WHEN I laid rising three thousand dollars in front of Zebulon Kingsley
on his office table as my card of reintroduction to that glum gentleman,
I really jumped him.
The money was in bills and there was a stack of it. A mere check
would not have been half as impressive. A lot of men in this world are
extravagant because they pay by check; handling real money makes one
more appreciative of values, I think.
“I have wound up the wood-lot proposition to the last cent,” I informed
him. “All collections made, all the men paid, and I hope you are as well
satisfied as the rest. There’s the cash!”
“How much is there?” His voice trembled when he asked me.
“Count it.”
“I’ll take your word, and later--”
“You have told-me several times that the truth isn’t in me. Count that
money! I insist!” A bit nasty of me, I admit, but I had resolved to
make my bigness, where Judge Kingsley was concerned. I saw no chance of
winning unless I made him understand that I was not to be kicked around
any more.
I stood over him while he counted. His bony fingers shook. Even though
he was handling money--rather a favorite indoor sport of his--I knew he
was finding the job a bitter one, with me at his elbow and acting just
as if I belonged there. He jotted down amounts as he counted, and then
he added the figures.
“I make it three thousand three hundred and fifty four dollars and
twenty-nine cents,” he reported.
“You are right, sir.” I held my little account-book in front of his nose
and tapped my totals. “I did a bit better than I figured.”
“The two thousand which belongs to me--”
“There are no divisions in that pile, sir. We are not going to have any
such argument as we had once before about price and land and deed. You
need that money for immediate use and you’re going to take it. And don’t
tell me again that you don’t need my help. You do!” Big talk, but he
needed it! “But don’t you be afraid that I shall ever twit you about
this help. Now is there any way of staving off this widow who wants her
three thousand?”
“No! I have promised her. After what you told me--I reckoned on--”
“Ah! Then you have been admitting to yourself the last few days that I’m
not so much of a renegade and crook, after all!”
His eyes shifted. “You must make allowances in my case, Mr. Sidney!”
That looked promising. He was giving me a handle for my name.
“Then we’ll pay the widow so that she will not be wagging her jaw while
we’re away.”
“While we’re away?” he repeated.
“Yes, sir! You and I are going to start on the trail of that last batch
of money you invested.”
“But we’ll never get money that way.”
“How else are you going to raise ten thousand dollars before the
fifteenth of April?”
“I have no way of raising it!” he lamented.
“That’s it! No sensible, business way! Therefore, we must do the next
best--grab from the men who have grabbed from you. It’s either that or
go steal money!”
I pulled up to the table and before his eyes counted back to myself the
money over and above three thousand dollars. I put it in my pocket.
“It’s our common purse--for traveling expenses,” I explained.
“But it’s--” he gasped.
“Yes, it’s a long journey, sir. However, I must go and you must go along
with me.”
“I am not in condition to travel.”
“I know that, sir, and I’m sorry. I wish I did not need you on the job,
but you must be with me in order to identify those men who robbed you.
Your complaint will put them in the jug if we can’t scare them and twist
the money out of them in another way. I can’t do a thing without your
presence, unless I catch up with them and knock them down. I may just as
well stay East here and commit highway robbery for you!”
I had another reason for insisting on his making the trip with me, but
I kept it to myself. If I left him behind there in Levant with my
rambunctious uncle barking at his heels and creditors waking up to
suspicions, I could not have one moment’s peace of mind. I felt pretty
sure that he would betray himself by face, his actions, or by suicide
or confession. He was in no shape to endure inquisition if he were left
where folks could get at him.
“You must go,” I insisted.
“Where?”
“It’s more or less of a blind run.”
“But I must know.”
“We’re only wasting time by talking it over ahead, Judge Kingsley,
because I don’t know much about the trip myself.”
He began to show temper, and I could not blame him much. My comfortable
craziness which I had put on along with my “dream suit” was helping a
lot; the judge was frostily sane.
“The project is crazy,” he stormed.
“So is the fix you’re in!”
“I can tell my wife and daughter nothing sensible!”
“As near as I can find out, sir, you have never told them anything
special about your business. Why begin now?”
“Because they are worried. My actions--those strangers--”
“I know, sir. They told me. But when you go away this time you’ll be
going in my company and that may help with them.”
He gave me a look which hinted that he was not at all sure about that.
“We have been in one business deal; it’s easy to say we’re in another,”
I suggested, choosing to overlook his manner.
But my feelings got away from me when he began to protest and argue and
ask questions about why and where and when. The balky old mule! And I
was giving him my soul and service free!
I pounded my knuckles on the heaped money. “We are going to leave this
town on the night train, Judge Kingsley. That gives you time enough to
settle with the widow and tell your folks something and get them calmed
down.”
“Don’t you dare to browbeat me, young man!”
“Yes, and you’ll have time to think the thing over for yourself, sir,
before I call for you with a hitch just before train-time! There will be
no arguments then. I shall expect you to be all ready with your bag in
hand. Go light on luggage. We shall go a long way and we shall go in a
hurry.”
I left him and went about a few final affairs of my own, and when I
finished I was squared with everybody in Levant. Before handing that
money to the judge I had paid my personal debts--I felt that I was
entitled to that much!
That evening Dodovah Vose loaned me a hitch and a driver and clapped me
on the shoulder with great zest and pride.
“When the judge picked you for a partner he picked the right one,” he
declared. “You make a team which will bring this old town up on its
feet. The judge needs you, son. He has been going behind.”
And then once more he tried to pump me regarding this latest venture,
for I had purposely dropped a word to him that the judge and I were off
on a big deal. I knew that a seed planted in Dodovah Vose would bring
forth fruit of the sort the judge and I needed.
“You can just hint to folks, if you feel like it, Mr. Vose, that Judge
Kingsley and I have seen a way to help this town very much.” That was
true. “Incidentally, the judge will make a great deal of money out of
certain things where his capital has been tied up.”
“I’ve always said he knew his business as a financier. Some of the old
tom-cats in this town have been prowling and meraouwing because he has
been tied up lately by mortgages; but you’ve got to bait with money to
catch money! Don’t fret, son. I’ll hand ’em out something now to warm
their ear-wax.”
“Oh, he knows how to make money for himself and for other folks!”
“Am I too late to slip in a few hundred on this deal?” asked Mr. Vose,
anxiously.
It was promptly on my tongue, of course, to put him aside as gently as
possible. But I knew that he had been wondering why I had not let him in
on the thing before, for truly he had been my best friend in that town.
I had no good excuse to give him. I needed his friendship and his loyal
good word even more then than in the past, for suspicion was darkly
brooding in Levant. I hated to leave behind with him the impression that
I would do everything for Zebulon Kingsley, who had been my foe, and
would not turn even a little leak of prosperity into an old friend’s
porringer.
While I was struggling with my thoughts--feeling like a scoundrel
reaching for his brother’s wallet--a strange notion came to me. It
fitted in with that comfortable craziness of mine. If I accepted his
money, would I not be pledging my very soul to do and to dare? My
devotion to Celene Kingsley I had set at one side as my true and sacred
motive. I was mighty sure that I was not at all enthusiastic in regard
to her father. However, if I took Dodovah Vose’s hard-earned money from
his hands--and taking it meant a pledge that he was to benefit from a
sure thing--had I not another sacred and even more compelling motive?
Truly I had, for my man’s honor was concerned as well as my love for a
girl!
“What have you handy?” I asked.
“Five hundred,” he said. “I ask no questions. I want no promises. I know
you’ll do your best for me, son. I hate to bother you--but profits come
slow in a country tavern, and I’d like to do a little extra repairing
this spring.”
He was on his way to his rusty old safe while he talked.
So I took his money and went away from him with the warmth of his palm
on mine.
The grinding of the wagon-wheels on the grit in front of Judge
Kingsley’s house brought Celene to the door, and when I did not climb
down from the wagon she called to me.
“Will you not come into the house?” she pleaded. I had not intended to
do so. In spite of my longing to see her and to have her parting smile
go along with me on that amazing journey I was undertaking, I had made
up my mind to duck judiciously a meeting-up with the women folks of my
traveling partner. But I had no will to disobey when she called to me. I
found the judge with his overcoat on and his bag in his hand. Evidently
he had thought the matter over! But he did not look like a bridegroom
starting on a honeymoon trip, and he scowled at me with as much ferocity
as if we were two tom-cats tied by the tails over a clothes-line.
His wife was hanging to his arm and she was white, even to her lips.
“Mr. Sidney, I must know what this mysterious business is.”
“I’m sure the judge will tell you what is necessary.”
“He will tell me nothing. I have endured much in the past, Zebulon! I
have not asked to know much about your affairs,” she went on, trying to
get a square look into his eyes. “This time I _must_ know!”
“I have told you!” From his tone it was hard to tell what his emotions
were. The words sounded as if somebody were talking into a tin spout a
long way off.
“You have told me nothing except that you are going! You do not say
where. You have not told me when you are coming back.”
“We don’t exactly know, Mrs. Kingsley. But I assure you that the trip is
very necessary,” I put in.
“I must tell you that mother is not well,” said Celene, wistfully. “I’m
sure everything is all right, but we must know where you are going so
that we may be in touch with you.”
“We can keep you posted--when we know where we are,” I said; but I did
not sound very convincing, I fear. God knows, I wanted to put my arms
around her and comfort her and tell her that I was madly trying to save
her, her home, her mother, and her father from disgrace and ruin. I
guess no man has ever figured out beyond doubt whether it’s better to
tell the woman everything or to hide trouble as long as possible. When
women are proud they never forget the disgrace, whether it is revealed
outside or if it’s merely kept secret in the household. And in Zebulon
Kingsley’s case I was proposing to keep the effect of the disgrace as
well as all knowledge of it away from those women.
I knew how he felt in the matter! He had chosen revolvers and ropes
rather than face them. I was determined to be just as resolute as
he--until a show-down was inevitable.
It would be a sorry triumph, a half job, if they were obliged to live
out their lives knowing that the master of the household had lived for
years in the shadow of prison; it meant the wrecking of all their pride
and ideals--no more joy in home or life itself in the case of such
women as they. I understood!
The big dock was ticking off minutes rapidly. Our time was short. I
shuffled my feet, impatiently wishing that Judge Kingsley would hurry
up. His woe-begone, frozen face was making the thing worse every minute
he stayed there.
“There is mystery here,” insisted his wife. “There should be no mystery
about business that’s honest!”
“You surely can tell us something to comfort us before you go,” urged
Celene, coming dose to me, pleading with her eyes.
But I knew I must stay away from the edges of explanation in her
presence; once I got started, I’d be sure to tumble into a mess. I
looked over her head.
“We must hurry, Judge!” I warned.
“I know that my husband would never go into any business that isn’t
honest,” declared Mrs. Kingsley, beginning to show temper. She faced me
and her eyes glittered. “But he is growing old, and his judgment may
not be what it was. There are always men trying to lead others into
trouble.”
“That’s so,” I admitted.
“Forgive mother if she says anything harsh! But we are in such a state
of mind!”
Well, so was I!
“I have mortgaged the home over my head,” cried Mrs. Kingsley. “I have
given the money to my husband willingly--but I will not allow thieves to
waste it!”
It was about time for me to assert myself a little. The judge was merely
working his mouth like a dying fish, and it was plain that he could be
no help.
“I don’t blame your mother,” I told the girl. I took her hands in mine,
glad I could carry away the memory of her touch. “Some of those men who
have been hanging around the judge are not good men, but I was born
in this town and you know me! I’m helping your father in an important
matter. I swear I’m telling the truth. And I’ll bring him back safe and
sound.”
I left her before I should be tempted to kiss her right before their
eyes, and I took the judge’s bag in one hand and boosted him along with
a clutch on his arm.
“We simply must catch that train!” I urged.
It was a sad scene for a few moments. I was obliged fairly to tussle
with that woman for the possession of the old man. But I ran him out
and left the mother sobbing in the daughter’s arms, and they were in the
doorway when I helped the judge into the wagon.
“Brace up!” I whispered. “Give ’em just a word or two.”
“I’m all right,” he quavered. “It’s only business! It must be attended
to. There’s nothing to fret about!”
Wasn’t, eh?
“Lick up!” I told the driver. “Lay on the braid!”
We went rattling out of Levant behind a galloping horse and I liked the
sensation of that haste. We were chasing ten thousand dollars and had
less than twenty days for the job.