From the Plaza upward, the blank stare of the avenue was awakening into
renewed signs of habitation. Burglar-proof doors had come down and
boarded windows had yielded to curtained sashes. Already in the park the
trees were turning. Banners of crimson, yellow and burgundy flaunted
where the foliage had been sunburned and heat-corroded. The walks and
Mall had for scorching weeks been a breathing refuge, and the
sheep-pasture a sleeping place, for shirt-sleeved men who panted like
dogs. Haggard women and sunken-cheeked children--all heat-fagged and
exhausted--had held possession; but now the bridle-path echoed to
hoof-beats, and smartly togged equestrians galloped there, while along
the driveways droned a purr of motors.
The sun, which had assaulted, blighted and killed, now caressed a
revived city, for autumn had come with her clarifying elixirs and her
fever-cooling frosts.
Shop windows, freshly decked, tempted the passerby with foretastes of
the season's styles in gowns and hats and furs. All was color and
sparkle and activity. Soft tones awoke at sunset on old and seasoned
walls. Gilt street signs blazed and shaft-like buildings stood out in
splintered strips of a dozen hues against skies that were unsullied
turquoise.
In the veins of Hamilton Burton, as he motored up-town, a heady
exhilaration mounted like wine. As his car bowled up the avenue he
watched the human mosaic, and the drive seemed a progress through
Bagdad. He was finding it all the city of his dreams:
"--a city blazoned like a missal book,
Black with oaken gables, carven and enscrolled.
Every street a colored page: every sign a hieroglyph,
Dusky with enchantments: a city paved with gold."
Then as he entered his own house he remembered. Tonight he must go to
the opera and the prospect bored him. To Paul, of course, it was as wine
to the drunkard, but to Hamilton it meant a tedious evening. It was in a
way a duty and one of his few concessions to Society's requirements. Had
it not been written of another great figure, "the Emperor sat in his box
that night?" He would leave early and later in the evening he could
console himself with a matter of greater importance.
Yet when he arrived at the Metropolitan he forgot to be bored--until the
overture ended, and Music was enthroned in the place of Fashion.
Here at the opera each moment, so long as the house-lights blazed,
brought its own tribute of flattery to the Titan of the Street. The men
and women from whom these tributes came were the men and women whom the
world envied, and cursed--and worshiped. Hamilton Burton realized, as he
passed easily from box to box, chatting with this multi-millionaire and
that jewelled lady, that no single figure was more often signaled out by
pointing and envious fingers than his own. When he handed Mary out of
her limousine the street policeman had made the passage clear before
him. Ushers had kowtowed and the heads of fashionable women had nodded
and smiled. His way had been a march of triumph. To Hamilton Burton it
was all like the sniffing of frankincense and myrrh. His inner emotions
were those of a great tiger, purring like a house-cat.
That at his back, when he had passed on, these immaculately clad
gentlemen muttered derogatory oaths only flattered him further; their
hate, too, was a tribute to his power.
He came into Society's world as a monarch walks among the proletariat,
to receive homage and return to places where a monarch has better things
to do.
But at last the overture ended and the curtain rose. The opera had
begun.
For Paul the evening was just beginning, but for Hamilton it was done.
He stifled a yawn and rose from his seat, effecting his escape
unobserved from the box. From that point on his mind shook off the
lethargy of the incensed atmosphere and became dynamic. He looked at his
watch and found that his next appointment gave him an hour's leisure.
To his chauffeur he said, "Drive me to my mother's house."
Hannah Burton would be the only member of the household at home and with
her nephew would spend this leisure hour. He knew she would be there
because she was rarely elsewhere. The man who flashed the searchlight of
his thought into so many places at such broad angles smiled as he
thought of his Aunt Hannah, but it was a tender smile. He had
transplanted and remodeled his family--but Aunt Hannah he had been
powerless to alter.
The room where she received him was an anomalous hermitage, for in spite
of the generous comfort it reflected, there broke out here and there
jarring notes from many survivals of the old order; things from which
she refused to be parted. Upon a mantel over which hung a Gobelin
tapestry stood a tin alarm clock. It was an old companion which had once
shrilly announced that it was time to drag her rheumatic bones from bed
and take up her daily round of dusting and sweeping. Among carefully
chosen paintings a screaming chromo issued by the Middle Fork general
store proclaimed the superior quality of its staple and fancy groceries,
hardware, queensware and feed.
The old lady herself, though silk-gowned, wore her white hair drawn
severely back over parchment temples, as though repudiating the pomps
and vanities of this wicked world.
It was Ham's time-honored custom to tease his aunt, and while she
snorted and sniffed, she enjoyed it, for whatever she thought of a
Babylonian life, she secretly worshiped this brilliant young nephew who
so well fitted its stress and turmoil.
"Were you down-stairs at dinner tonight, flirting with the grand dukes
and big-wigs?" he demanded as he kissed her pale cheek.
"As if you didn't know," she austerely rebuked, "that, when company
comes, I always have supper right here in my own room."
It would have been a surrender of principle for Hannah Burton to call
"company" guests, or the evening meal "dinner."
"There were some very smart people down-stairs, I'm told," the man
heckled with twinkling eyes. "Divorcées in numbers and affinities
galore."
The old lady shuddered.
"Ham, I wish you wouldn't run on in that ungodly fashion. I'm sure it's
no laughing matter. I pray for you day and night, but when a body's
blinded by wealth and imagining vain things they're in mortal danger."
Her nephew's face softened. "As long as you're praying for me, Aunt
Hannah," he assured her, "I still have a fighting chance."
"Ham," she said suddenly with a shadow of deep anxiety in her eyes,
"ain't your father playing cards more than's good for him? I've worried
considerable about that here of late. He used to read his Scriptures
regular. Now he don't do it. Instead he gambles."
"Father only plays in amiable little games, for the sake of charity,
Aunt Hannah." Hamilton smiled indulgently as he enlightened her. "You
could hardly call it gambling. In gambling there is an element of
chance. Father merely contributes."
The old lady shook her head. "This town ain't much different from Tyre
and Sidon and Babylon, so far as I can see," she mournfully asserted.
"They were said to be live towns in their day," he admitted.
Then for the rest of his spare hour he chatted with her and teased her
solemnity into laughter, and before he left, because she asked it and
complained that her eyes were poor, he read to her a chapter from the
New Testament and kissed her good-night. Ten minutes later he was in his
own library and was directing that two gentlemen, whom he was expecting,
be ushered there to talk business.
The two were alike only in that each had a versatile and executive
brain. One was elderly and stout, and, though two decades of established
success had polished his original crudity into a certain dignity, there
survived in his eyes the darting shiftiness of glance that had settled
there in days when his one asset was an almost diabolical cleverness as
a criminal lawyer.
An old trick of badgering witnesses with a brow-beating stare from
half-closed lids clung unpleasantly to him, discounting his acquired
distinction of bearing. This was Isaac Ruferton, of the firm of Ruferton
and Willow. From criminal lawyer to corporation-scourge and from
corporation-scourge to corporation counsel are logical stages of
development. From clients who need, and can pay for, a mind of unusual
resource, as formerly from vagabond's in police-court cages, he earned
what he was paid.
The second visitor was younger. Mr. Tarring was also a specialist in
ideas and from his confidence of bearing one seemed to derive a snap of
electric energy. In many ways Hamilton Burton found him serviceable and
on the smaller scale of his delegated functions he operated as Hamilton
himself did along the broader front; with dash, determination and the
belief that nothing is impossible.
"Gentlemen," began Burton crisply, when the three were seated, "I sent
for you this evening to outline a simple matter--but one calling for a
nicety of execution. It can neither afford delay nor premature
undertaking. It must be done at its own instant. When the stock-holders'
meeting of Coal and Ore is called to order I must be in a position to
assume control."
Tarring leaned forward in his chair and fixed his gaze on a bronze
statuette. This casual announcement meant nothing less than a making
over of a map: the map of High Finance. Ruferton was never surprised. He
twirled his shell-rimmed glasses at the end of their broad tape and
nodded. "And you find yourself at this juncture short of just the
requisite balance--though you know where it is held?" Mr. Ruferton
always made a point of anticipating his client's next statement--if
possible. It was a small thing, but at times valuable. It indicated that
he was keeping not only abreast, but a step ahead of what was being told
him. Hamilton smiled.
"I still need a block held by Henry of the Deposit Savings and a block
held by Fairley of the Metallic National. These gentlemen think they
won't turn loose. To see that they do so is Tarring's work. It must be
accomplished by tomorrow evening."
Tarring said nothing. Under his imperturbable guise he found himself
stunned.
Burton turned to the attorney. "You know G.K. Hendricks?"
Mr. Ruferton's answer followed the question with no margin of a pause.
"State senator for three terms. At present candidate for the appellate
bench; Tammany's choice. Was very valuable when the charter of Coal and
Ore was before the assembly. Has increased his stock-holdings since he
acquired his first block as--er--the reward of merit."
For an instant Hamilton Burton eyed the lawyer keenly.
"I must also have his proxy by tomorrow evening. That, Ruferton, is your
work."
"Then you didn't know that Hendricks is up-state? He's out at his farm
on a narrow-gage branch that runs a train a day from Barry Spa. You are
cutting it fine, Mr. Burton. Too fine, perhaps."
The announcement brought to the eyes of the planning strategist a
nonplused shadow, but it lingered briefly.
"I have already told you that the moment had to be precisely timed.
Hendricks might run to Malone if given a margin of leisure. You can go
home and change your evening-clothes. Meantime I shall arrange for a
special train. Your instructions are to get that stock or the proxy. If
you can't handle him bring him to me; have him in this room at this hour
tomorrow evening."
Mr. Isaac Ruferton rose from his chair, and stood looking into the face
of his employer as though searching for some indication of incipient
lunacy. What he read was inflexible command.
"Mr. Burton," he said slowly, "I'm where I am in life because I have
been willing to undertake various things at various times. Other men
would have shied at some of them, and even I have my limits. Will you
suggest to me how I am, within twenty-four hours, to travel twenty hours
by rail, and compel an unwilling man to deliver, merely because you
order it, stock which he has no wish to sell?"
Burton's answer rose to anger as he spoke. "If you can't trade with
him--and I have given you _carte blanche_--I have already told you to
bring him here. I'll do the rest."
"In God's name, how? Can I drag him out of his own house and load him
like a trussed pig in a railway car?"
"The details are up to you. You are supposed to be a clever lawyer. The
man is in a political campaign and you know enough of his record to give
weight to your suggestions. You say he doesn't want to sell--make him
want to! My plans are rather too large to admit of 'buts' and 'ifs.'
Presumably I employ men who can override them."
Ruferton continued to stare blankly. "But--surely--"
Hamilton had already turned to Tarring and he wheeled with a snap in his
voice.
"Ruferton," he exclaimed, "in a moment more you will irritate me. I said
get his Coal and Ore, or get him. I don't give a damn how you do it.
Tell him, if you like that all Tammany can't boost him on to the
appellate bench if I go after him. If you prefer, gag him and drag him
here. Do what you like--except waste time by gaping at me. Succeed and
name your reward. Fail and--" Hamilton Burton shrugged his shoulders.
Slowly a light crept into the resourceful eyes of Mr. Ruferton, driving
out the vacancy. The matter by its very desperateness began to appeal to
him, and already a formula of campaign was shaping itself in his
constructive mind. This extraordinary man's hypnotic dominance of
personality had carried other audacious days and now it swept the lawyer
with its tide of confidence. Mr. Ruferton became at once the man who
recognizes the value of seconds and minutes. "I will be here tomorrow
evening at this hour," he categorically announced. "And I shall bring
with me a proxy or a senator--or his remains. Kindly arrange for my
train. I go direct to the Grand Central."
Hamilton Burton smiled at the door through which his emissary had
departed.
"He made as much furore about it as though I had required him to do
something really difficult," he commented to the lieutenant who still
awaited his orders. "Now for your part.... The Metallic National and the
Deposit Savings." Between sentences he picked up the desk-telephone and
called a private number.
"I want to talk to Mr. Carter.... Not at home! Where is he?... Doesn't
want to be disturbed--he's got to be.... Yes, this is Hamilton
Burton.... At the opera, you say? Thank you."
The snap of the receiver under his finger was abrupt and decisive as he
again called central, and while he waited he talked to Tarring.
"What funds have we in those banks?... Hello! I want Bryant 1146, yes,
the Metropolitan Opera.... Hello! Please have Mr. Carter brought from
his box to the 'phone. This is Hamilton Burton, talking ... a matter
that can't wait.... Tarring, I must have the stock those banks hold. You
must have them here tomorrow night.... Hello, is that you Carter? I need
a special train for Barry Spa in thirty minutes, and another to meet it
there for Lake Mosoc."
There was a moment's silence, then Burton's voice came with violent
explosiveness.
"Impossible? It seems to me that every man I talk to prates vacantly
about impossibilities. Damn it, when I need a train I need a train....
You understand me, don't you, Carter?"
Again there was the interruption of the voice at the further end. As
Burton listened his eyes kindled afresh under blackly drawn brows, but
when he spoke it was in a clear and cold voice, more unpleasant to hear
than a tirade of passion.
"To hell with explanations, Carter! I want action. Do I get my train?
You are burning time.... Kindly listen because I mean this to the last
syllable.... Unless you can achieve this highly impossible matter of
accommodation--" suddenly the voice leaped to a higher scale and shot
out its ultimatum like canister--"I will throw you out of the
presidency and the damned road-bed into the river and the shops into the
junk heap.... All right, please hurry." He clapped down the receiver,
then resumed his second thread of thought as though there had been no
interruption.
"I want those bankers here. That is your job, Tarring. They need know
only that it is of vital importance and that our meeting must be
attended with the strictest confidence. Intimate that my object is the
averting of ruinous runs which must follow unless we stop them--and
worse disasters."
Tarring rose. His task, as compared with the other he had seen assigned,
appeared easy. "Shall I come with them?" he inquired.
Burton nodded. "You are a notary. It may be necessary for you to take
acknowledgments."