BROTHERS
William Holton spoke the truth to Amzi when he said that he had had no
warning of his brother's return. William, with all his apparent
prosperity, was not without his troubles, and he took it unkindly that
this brother, who for sixteen years had kept out of the way, should have
chosen so unfortunate a moment for reintroducing himself to his native
town. He had not set eyes on Jack since his flight with Lois Kirkwood,
though Samuel had visited the Western coast several times on business
errands and had kept in touch with him. William had been glad enough to
forget Jack's existence, particularly as the reports that had reached
him--even those brought back by the sanguine Samuel--had been far from
reassuring as to Jack's status in Seattle.
Jack's return meant a recrudescence of wounds which time had seemingly
healed, with resulting discomforts that might have far-reaching
consequences. Mrs. William had a pride of her own, and it was unjust to
her for a man who had so shocked the moral sensibilities of the town to
thrust himself back upon his family, especially when he had chosen to
present himself first at the domicile of the head of a house against
which he had so grossly sinned.
William took Jack home and put him to bed; and when Charles followed a
little later with Mrs. Holton, the prodigal slept the sleep of weary
intoxication in her guest chamber.
The next day the town buzzed, and the buzzing was loud enough to make
itself heard at the desk of the president of the First National Bank.
William had left word at home that when Jack came to himself, he was to
be dispatched to the bank forthwith. He meant to deal with this
unwelcome pilgrim upon a business basis strictly, without any softening
domestic influences. The honor of the Holtons was touched nearly and
Jack must be got rid of. Mrs. Holton telephoned at eleven o'clock that
Jack was on his way downtown, and William was prepared for the interview
when his brother strolled in with something of his old jauntiness.
The door of the directors' room closed upon them. The word passed along
Main Street that Jack and William were closeted in the bank. Phil,
walking downtown on an errand, with the happiness of her party still in
her eyes, was not without her sense of the situation. At the
breakfast-table her father, deeply preoccupied, had brought himself with
an effort to review the happier events of the party. Knowing what was in
his mind Phil mentioned the untoward misfortune that had cast Jack
Holton of all men upon the threshold of her uncle's house.
"It really didn't make any difference, daddy,--that man's coming.
Everybody tried to forget it. And some of the young people didn't know
him at all."
"No; it didn't matter, Phil. Your Uncle Amzi is a fine gentleman: I
never fully appreciated his goodness and generosity as much as I did
last night."
Phil did not know that Amzi had sought Kirkwood in the den where the
lawyer had gone to take counsel with himself, and had blown himself
purple in the face in his kind efforts to make light of the incident.
The two men had never been drawn closer together in their lives than in
that meeting.
"It wasn't Uncle Amy's fault that the William Holtons were asked to the
party; I think it was Aunt Kate who started that. And when I heard of
it, it was all over and the invitations had been sent," Phil said.
Kirkwood repeated his assurance that it made no difference in any way.
And Phil remembered for a long time a certain light in his gentle,
candid eyes as he said:--
"We get over most of our troubles in this world, Phil; and I want you to
know that that particular thing doesn't hurt me any more. Only it was a
shock; the man had aged so and his condition and the suddenness of
it--But it's all over and it didn't spoil the party; that's the main
thing."
Phil was immensely relieved, for she knew that her father told the
truth.
Jack Holton greeted a number of old friends on his way to the bank, but
the president emeritus of the college cut him. The cold stare he
received from this old man, who had been president of Madison College
for forty years, expressed a contempt that hurt. Mrs. King, in whose
yard he had played as a boy, looked over his head, though he was
confident she knew him. His nostrils caught no scent of roast veal in
the familiar streets. At his brother's house his sister-in-law, whom he
had never seen, had not appeared when he went down for his breakfast.
He followed his brother into the directors' room in a defiant humor.
They took account of each other with a frank curiosity begotten of their
long separation.
"You haven't changed much, Will. You've grown a little stouter than
father did, but dear old Sam never lost his shape, and you're like him."
There was little resemblance between the two men. William's face,
clean-shaven save for a mustache, showed few lines, though his hair had
whitened at the temples. Jack's hair and mustache were well sprinkled
with gray, and his crown was bald. He fingered a paper-weight on the
table nervously. A history of dissipation was written legibly in his
eyes and he had a disconcerting way of jerking his head.
"Damn it all! I guess you're not tickled to death to see me. And I need
hardly say that if I hadn't been drunk, I wouldn't have turned up at old
Amzi's on the night of that kid's coming-out party. Drunk when I struck
town--hadn't been feeling well, and fell in with some old friends at
Indianapolis and filled up. Hope you'll overlook my little
indiscretions. Reckon the town would have found out I was here soon
enough and there's nothing like coming right out in the open. When they
told me at your house you were at Amzi's, I couldn't believe it and I
was just drunk enough to want to investigate."
William muttered something that Jack preferred to ignore.
"Well, I wasn't so drunk I didn't take in Kirkwood. Old Tom has held his
own pretty well; but he's the type Time don't batter much. I'd thought a
good deal about what might happen if we ever met--had rather figured on
a little pistol work; but Lord! it's funny how damned soon we get over
these things. Trifles, Will, trifles--bubbles of human experience that
vanish in thin air. Damn it all! life's a queer business. We put our
faith in women and they're a bad investment, damned uncertain and
devilish hard to please, and shake you when the night falleth and you
need a prop to lean on. By the way, your own consort ducked me this
morning; I had to have breakfast alone, with only one of Africa's
haughty daughters to break my eggs. I hope madam your wife is well. By
the way, has she given any hostages to fortune? Thought I hadn't heard
of it. You've treated me in a hell of a little brotherly fashion, Will.
If it hadn't been for Sam, who was a true sport if I know one, I
shouldn't have known anything about you, dead or alive."
William had listened with an almost imperceptible frown while he
minutely studied his brother. The items he collected were not calculated
to inspire confidence or quicken fraternal feeling. Jack, whom he
remembered as fastidious in old times, was sadly crumpled. The cuffs of
his colored shirt were frayed; there were spots on his tie, and his
clothes looked as though they had been slept in. The lining of the
ulster he had thrown across a chair had been patched, and threads hung
where his legs had rubbed it. The impressions reflected in William's
eyes were increasingly disagreeable ones, as he diagnosed moral,
physical, and financial decrepitude. It was nothing short of impudence
on Jack's part to intrude himself upon the town and upon his family. It
was with a slight sneer that William replied to his brother's long
speech by ejaculating:--
"Well, I like your nerve! You come back drunk just when the community
had begun to forget you, and wander into the last house in the world
where you ought to show yourself. Your being drunk doesn't excuse you.
Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"
Jack smiled ironically.
"Suppose you climb off your high horse for a little bit. If I have to
get a permit from my only brother to come back to the town where I was
born, things have come to a nice pass. Better cut all that out."
"You're certainly a past-master at making a mess of things," William
continued. "Your coming back that way fits neatly into your departure.
You needn't think people have forgotten that you ran off with another
man's wife. And your coming back right now, just when the Montgomerys
had buried the hatchet, was calculated with the Devil's own mind."
"So that's the tune, is it?" said Jack, stretching his arms upon the
table and clasping his fingers to subdue their nervous twitchings.
"That's just the tune! This town isn't big enough to hold you and the
rest of us. You've cost me a lot of money first and last. You made it
necessary for us to pull away from Amzi and start all over again, and
there was a prejudice against me from the start that I've just about
lived down."
Jack grinned unpleasantly.
"Oh, the bank hasn't been terribly prosperous, then!"
William blinked at the thrust. He had given the conversation an
unfortunate turn, and he sought uncomfortably for another line of
attack. Jack unwittingly opened the way for him.
"You were the good boy of the family and used to be a pillar in the
church. I have a distinct though melancholy impression that when I took
myself hence you were passing the basket in Center Church every Sunday
morning. I don't recall that I ever _saw_ you do it, but it was a
matter of common knowledge in this town, Will, that you did that very
thing. And being a Christian, just how do you square your effusive
brotherly welcome with the gospel? The only reason God makes sinners is
to give 'em a chance to repent. Without repentance what do you suppose
would become of your churches anyhow?"
"I don't see any repentance in you; and I want to know right now what
you've done with that woman?"
Jack blinked, then smiled and gave a laugh expressive of disdain and
contempt.
"If you please, which woman?"
William's frown deepened. The one woman was certainly enough, and his
rage was increased by the leer that accompanied the question.
"Oh, I dare say there have been enough of them! I mean the one you took
away from here; I mean Lois Kirkwood."
"Oh, Lois!" He spoke as though surprised that she should be chosen for
particular attention, and his lip curled scornfully. "When a man goes
wrong, Will, he pays for it. Take it from me that that's one gospel
truth that I've proved to my entire satisfaction. It's queer, Will, how
soon a bonfire burns out--the bigger the fire the quicker it goes. I
went plum crazy about that girl. She'd married the one particular man on
earth who was least likely to make her happy. He bored her. And I guess
her baby bored her, too,--she wasn't a domestic animal,--no pussy cat to
sit by the fire and play with the baby and have hubby's slippers
toasting when he came home to supper. And I had time to play with her; I
wasn't so intellectual as Tom, but my nature was a damned sight more
sympathetic. It looked as though we had been made for each other, and I
was fooled into thinking so. And I was bored myself--this silly little
town, with nothing to hold anybody. Lois and I were made for a bigger
world--at least we thought so: and by Jove, it was funny how we fooled
each other--it was altogether too damned funny!"
"I'm glad you take a humorous view of it," replied William coldly. "Not
satisfied with disgracing the family, you come back to rub it in. Where
did you leave the woman? I suppose you've chucked her--the usual way."
Jack threw back his head and laughed.
"Well, I like that! You don't know what I had to put up with! She made
me suffer, I can tell you! I don't believe she'd deny herself that she
made it damned uncomfortable for me. She liked to spend money, for one
thing, and I couldn't make it fast enough; and she wanted to mingle with
the rich and gay, and our story had followed us, and it's funny, Will,
what a lot of old-fashioned, stupid, Thursday-night-prayer-meeting and
the-pastor-in-to-tea morality there is left in this fool world! It cut
Lois up a good deal, being snubbed by people she wanted to stand well
with. It gave me a jolt to find that I wasn't all-sufficient for her
after all; which hurt some when we'd decided we could be happy alone
together in the woods for the rest of our days. It's a long story, and
I'm not going to talk about it. With the money I took away from here I
began monkeying with real estate; it didn't seem that anybody out there
could lose just then: but I was a bad guesser. In five years I had
played in all my chips, and had to sneak around office buildings trying
to sell life insurance, which wasn't dignified nor becoming in a member
of the haughty house of Holton."
"Sam told me a different story. Why don't you tell the truth if you talk
about it at all? You gambled and lost your money--that's what happened;
and real estate speculation was only a side line. But Lois had money; I
suppose you played that away, too. Sam never seemed quite clear about
your relations with her."
"I guess he didn't! There's a queer woman, Will. The inscrutable ways of
Providence were not in it with hers. She hated me, but she wouldn't let
go of me; seemed to be her idea that shaking one man was enough and she
wouldn't let me make her a widow a second time. By George, I couldn't
shake her--I had to live off her!"
William shrugged his shoulders and scowled. It was incredible that this
could be his own brother who spoke thus of the gravest relationships of
life. And it was with a steady sinking of spirit that it was beaten in
upon him that this man had come back to plant himself at his door. He
was busy calculating the effect upon himself, his family, and his
business of the prodigal's return. He was shocked, disgusted, alarmed.
His wife had told him in the long vigil that followed her return from
Amzi Montgomery's house, when she learned that her brother-in-law was
sleeping off his spree in her guest-room, that Jack had to go. She was
proud and arrogant, and she had no idea of relinquishing her social
pre-eminence--not too easily won--in the town to which William Holton
had brought her to live out her life. One or two of the old families had
never received her with any cordiality, clearly by reason of the old
scandal. And where there are only seventeen thousand people in a town
the indifference of two or three, when they happen to include a woman
like Mrs. King, was not to be ignored or borne without rancor. William's
indignation was intensified as he reviewed Jack's disclosures from the
angle his wife had drawn for him in the midnight conference. His
curiosity was sharpened, however, as to the subsequent relationship of
Jack and Lois Kirkwood. Seattle is a long way from Montgomery and lines
of communication few and slight. Samuel, returning from his visits to
the coast, had usually been too full of his own schemes to furnish any
satisfactory details of Jack and his wife. William dropped his
plumb-line in a new spot where he fancied the water would prove shallow.
"You lived off her, didn't you, until you had lived up all she had? The
gospel didn't neglect her; she got her share of the punishment."
"Look here, Will, you mustn't make me laugh like that! You know I used
to think I understood human nature, but I never started with that woman.
I did live at her expense,--I had to,--and she stood for it until I got
to hanging round the saloons too much. She used to pay my dues in the
club, damned if she didn't, until I got fired for too much poker in the
chamber over the gate. I must say she was a good sport: as a fair-minded
man, I've got to admit that. And she swung the lash over me--never laid
it on, but made it sizz--whistle--till I'd duck and sniffle; and she did
exactly what she pleased without caring a damn whether I liked it or
not! By George, I knew she was a wonder when I took her off Kirkwood's
hands, but she wasn't wonderful in just the way I thought she'd be. That
was where the joke came in. And she made people like her; she could do
that; and she got on, so that wherever she could go without me she was
welcome. That was after people got sorry for her because she was hooked
up to me; but most of 'em, I guess, liked her on her own account. A
queer development, Will. For the past five years I've just been a piece
of furniture, to be dusted and moved occasionally like an old
rocking-chair that gets into a house, nobody knows exactly how, and is
shoved around, trying corners where it won't be noticed much, until it
winds up in the garret. But after all the corners had been tried,--she
didn't have any garret; we lived mostly in hotels and flats,--I was
gradually worked out on the second-hand man's wagon, and here I am."
"She kept her money, then?" asked William with assumed indifference.
"Will," said Jack with a mockingly confidential air, leaning forward on
the table, "after the first two or three years I never knew whether she
had a cent or not, that's the straight of it. Considering that she had
thrown away her reputation like an old shoe just for me, and that we
lived along under the same roof, that was the most astonishing thing of
all. She began by handing me out a hundred now and then when I was
broke; then it dropped to ten, and then it got down to a dollar a
week,--humiliating, Will, considering that I had given up my interest in
the ancient and honorable firm of Montgomery & Holton, Bankers, just for
her! But when she shook me for good, I'm damned if she didn't give me a
clean thousand just as a consolation prize."
William was more interested in this phase of the relationship than in
anything that had gone before. He was aware of the local belief that
Jack had thrown away his wife's share of her father's estate in his real
estate speculations in Seattle and that Amzi supported her dutifully by
a regular allowance; in fact, the three sisters had encouraged this
impression by characteristic insinuations.
"What's become of her? Where is she now?"
"That's where you've got me stung: how do I know where she is! After she
slipped me the thousand and bade me a long and chilling farewell, I used
to keep track of her in one way or another. She had a restless streak in
her,--that's why she couldn't stand Tom and the rest of it,--and when it
was all peach blossoms and spring with us she liked to take spurts over
the world. We used to run down to San Francisco for little sprees, and
then when that played out she shifted to New York. But I've lost her
trail--I don't any more know where she is than if I'd never laid eyes on
her. She went abroad a couple of times and she may be over there now.
Say, if Amzi's putting up for her you will lose your main competitor one
of these days! She'd bust the biggest bank in Wall Street, that woman!
She's a luxurious little devil, and a wonder for looks. Even the harsh
trial of living with me didn't wear her to a frazzle the way you might
suppose it would. I guess if I hadn't poisoned the wells for her, she
could have shaken me for most any man she liked. By George, I'll get to
weeping on your neck in a minute, just thinking about her. I started in
to tell you what a miserable little wretch she is and I'm winding up by
bragging about her. She's got that in her! But she'll bust Amzi before
she winds up. And I hope you appreciate the value of that news. Old
Amzi, if he hasn't changed, is a fat-head who's content to sit in his
little bank and watch the world go by. And I guess he's got a nice bunch
of brothers-in-law on his hands. Poor old Amzi! There was always
something amusing about the cuss, even when he was a smug little
roly-poly as a boy. But I passed his bank this morning and it looked
like an undertaker's office. The contrast between that old tomb and
your plant pleases me, Will; it soothes my family pride. You are an able
man and I congratulate you on your success. Sam liked to cut didoes on
thin ice a little too well; but you're a born banker--inherited it from
father; and I guess I didn't do you so ill a turn after all when I cut
loose with Lois and broke up the old partnership. There wasn't enough
room in Montgomery & Holton for all of us."
Several times William shifted his position uneasily. His brother's
flattery merely paved the way to a demand--he was confident of this;
and he had no intention of yielding to demands. To begin advances to
this melancholy wreck would be to establish a precedent for interminable
benefactions. It was better to deal with the matter at once. A clerk
called him out to speak to a customer and when he came back, Jack was
moodily glaring out upon the little court at the rear of the bank.
William did not seat himself again, but stood by the table, as though to
indicate his intention of terminating the interview.
"I can't give you any more time. Just what have you come back for? I'm
entitled to know, and we may as well have it out."
"What have I come back for? I've come back to stay, that's what I'm back
for! I want a job, that's all, and if you won't give me one, I'd like to
know just where your brotherly heart expects me to go."
"You can't stay here, Jack. You've got to clear out. I don't mean to be
hard on you, and I'll give you enough to take you wherever you want to
go; but you can't camp here; you've got to move on. If you'd come back
like a gentleman, it might have been different; but the whole town's
upset. I'd just about lived you down, and here you come back and stir up
the whole mess. The way you came back puts us all in the hole; the
sympathy of the community was swinging round to our side a little, and
even the Montgomerys were making it clear that they were willing to let
bygones be bygones and here you come to spoil it all! And you've not
only got to go, but you've got to go now, this very day by the first
train."
This was received blinkingly. Jack shook his head as though in pity for
his brother's harshness.
"For a man brought up by a Christian father and mother to point the door
to a long-lost brother is painful, Will. It wounds me deeply. I tell you
right now that I'm not going away from here until I get good and ready.
Do you follow me?"
He rested the tips of his fingers on the table and bent toward his
brother with a cold glitter in his eyes. Under the mockery of his
phrases a hot anger lurked.
"All right," said William. "Stay, then. But you can't hang yourself
around my neck. Understand that right here."
"You haven't heard all my story yet--"
"I've heard all I'm going to hear. I've heard enough to make me sick. I
hope nobody else in this town will ever hear it. It's worse than I had
ever imagined--you allowing that woman to support you! And it's
nauseating to think that you don't realize the rottenness of it. But you
seem to be incapable of any decent feeling about anything."
"Stop sentimentalizing and listen to me. I didn't come back here to
enter upon a new social career; I came back on business. You remember,
Will, that Sam came West when you and he were selling bonds in this
Sycamore Traction line on which I rode proudly home last night. I helped
Sam sell a pretty big bunch of those bonds out there. Sam could sell
anything--Sam was a wonder! and he planted a big bunch of those things
along the coast--my friends, you know. Sam's dead and gone now and I
ain't going to knock him--but Sam was an exuberant chap and he
overcalculated the cost of building the road. That was on the
construction company, but you and Sam were in that--same old game of
working both sides of the street. It was just a mistake in figures, of
course, but some of those people out there hear the road ain't doing
well, and they're friends of mine, Will, valued friends, and now that
Sam's gone it's up to you and me to take care of 'em--do you follow
me?"
"If that's what you're up to you've made a big mistake. That road's one
of the most successful traction lines in the West, and pays its bond
interest on the dot."
"Nothing easier; but I happen to know that the last payment was made
with borrowed money. Of course, only a little temporary accommodation,
but just the same it wasn't paid out of earnings. And, Will, you ought
to be mighty careful--you oughtn't to advance bank funds for such a
purpose; it's damned bad business; it's downright immoral; that's all!
But how about the bonds your construction company got--that nice little
margin between a fair profit for building the road and a big fat steal
at the expense of the bondholders? And you authorized the sale of bonds
at eighty to pay the construction bill, got ninety, and pocketed the
difference. Oh, you needn't get white and blink at me. I know what he
did with his share of the boodle--he had to take care of his political
chums he got into other schemes. I know all about Sam--he was always
borrowing, we will call it, from Peter to pay Paul, and most of it got
into Sam's pocket. Now here's my position; right here's where I come in.
I'm going to help you take care of this, but you've got to act white
with me. I'm not going to be kicked out of town--not unless you go with
me. Is that plain?"
"You're a fool. I understand nothing except that you're trying to
blackmail me; and it won't go. Why, you ought to know that the thing you
accuse Sam of doing would have landed him and me, too, in the
penitentiary. What do you suppose the trustee for the bondholders was
doing? What do you imagine the New York investors were thinking about?"
"They were asleep, Will," Jack replied, with a gleam of malignant humor.
"And Sam was awful slick. Sam could sell winter underwear in hell. And I
guess you could sell anthracite at a profit down there, too. You talk
about the family dignity;--by George, I never started with you fellows!
Running away with another man's wife is tame business compared with your
grafting. And I've got a little more news for you. The clouds are
gathering, you might say, in all parts of the horizon." He swept the
room with a comprehensive gesture. "It's just one of those queer twists
of the screw of fate that brings us all up against Tom Kirkwood. Tom's
smart: he always was, and as straight a man as God Almighty ever put on
the footstool, and he's prying into Sycamore Traction. I stopped off for
a day or two in Indianapolis and got on to this. There was a lawyer and
an officer of the Desbrosses Trust & Guaranty Company out here from New
York to talk things over with Kirkwood,--he has some pull down
there,--and they've employed him. While Sam lived he watched little
things like that; filled up the accountants with champagne and took care
of the statements, but I guess you are not quite as smart as Sam. I
guess it's about all you can do to take care of the bank examiner when
he drops in to shake hands."
William had listened intently, his arms folded, a smile of derision on
his face.
"Just how much do you charge for this information?" he demanded coldly.
"I'm not going to charge you; I'm going to help you, Will. It's my duty
as a brother to warn you and help you out of trouble. Family feeling is
strong in me: I'm not a man to let my own brother go down if I can keep
him up. I see it in your eye that--"
William flung round to the door and swung it open.
"Get out of here!"
"Oh, is that the answer? Then, all right!"
He picked up his hat, drew on his coat unhurriedly, walked calmly round
the table and lounged out of the bank.