MONDAY, THE THIRTEENTH
The monotonous, but not unpleasing voice of Malcolm Melvin began the
reading of the stipulations in the contract to the three persons who
were seated before him around the table in the lawyer's private
office. The time was Monday morning, shortly after ten o'clock.
"This agreement, hereinafter made, between Roderick Duncan, of the
City, County, and State of New York, party of the first part; Stephen
Langdon, of the same place, party of the second part; and Patricia
Langdon of the same place, party of the third part, as follows: First,
the party of the first part--"
"Just wait a moment, Mr. Melvin, if you please," Duncan interrupted
him. "If it is all the same to you, and to the other parties concerned
in this transaction, I don't care to hear all that dry rot, you have
written. If you will be so kind as simply to state in plain English
what the stipulations are, it will answer quite as well for the
others, and it will suit me a whole lot better."
"It is customary, Mr. Duncan, to listen carefully to a legal document
one is about to sign with his name," said the lawyer, with a dry
smile.
"I don't care a rap about that, Melvin; and you know I don't. The
others know it, too."
"I think," said Patricia, quietly, "that the papers should be read,
from beginning to end."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed her father; "and besides, Pat, I haven't time. I
ought to be down-town, right now. Let Melvin get over with this
foolish nonsense, as quickly as possible; and then, if you and
Roderick will only kiss, and make up--"
Patricia interrupted him:
"Very well, Mr. Melvin," she said. "You may state the substance of the
agreement."
The lawyer turned toward Duncan. There was a twinkle of amusement in
his eyes, although his face remained perfectly calm and
expressionless.
"According to these papers as I have drawn them, Mr. Duncan," he said,
slowly, "you loan the sum of twenty million dollars to Stephen
Langdon, accepting as security therefor, and in lieu of other
collateral, the stated promise of Miss Langdon to become your wife.
She reserves to herself, the right to name the wedding-day, provided
it be within a reasonable time."
"May I ask how Miss Langdon defines the words, a reasonable time?"
asked Duncan, speaking as deliberately as the lawyer had done. "As for
the loan to Mr. Langdon--he already has that. But, the reasonable
time: just what does that expression mean?"
"I suppose, during the season; say, within three, or six, months from
date," replied the lawyer.
"That will do very well, thank you. You may now go on." Duncan was
determined, that morning, to meet Patricia on her own ground.
"The loan you make to the party of the second part, to Mr. Langdon, is
to be repaid to you at his convenience, and with the legal rate of
interest, within one year from date. At the church where the wedding
ceremony shall take place, and immediately before that event, you are
to give to Miss Langdon, a cashier's check for ten-million dollars,
which she will endorse and send to the bank, before the ceremony
proceeds. It is Miss Langdon's wish to have her maiden name appear as
the endorsement on that check. Later, she will have the account
transferred from Patricia Langdon to Patricia Duncan. You are--"
"Just one moment, again, Mr. Melvin." Duncan reached forward and
pulled the papers toward him. "Will you please show me where I am to
sign? What remains of the stipulations, I can hear at another time.
Unfortunately, at the present moment, I am in haste, and I happen to
know that Mr. Langdon is very anxious to get away."
"Is it your habit to sign legal papers without reading them?" demanded
Patricia, with just a little touch of resentment in her tone. She had
rather prided herself upon the wording of this document, which she had
so carefully dictated to Melvin, and it hurt her to think that her
stipulations were passed over so easily.
But the lawyer, who saw in the whole circumstance nothing but a huge
joke, which would presently come to a pleasant end, had already
pointed out to Duncan the places on the three papers where he was to
put his signature, and the young man was signing them, rapidly. He did
not reply until he had written his name the third time. Then, he left
his chair, and with a low and somewhat derisive bow to his affianced
wife, said:
"No, Patricia, it is not; but these circumstances are different from
those in which one is usually called upon to sign documents. I
certainly should have no hesitation in accepting, without reserve,
any conditions which you chose to insist upon, so long as those
conditions, in the end, made you my wife. You may sign the papers at
your leisure; but I shall ask you to excuse me, now." He bowed
smilingly to her, shook hands with the lawyer, and called across the
table to the banker:
"So long, Uncle Steve; I'll see you later." A moment afterward the
door closed behind him.
"The whole thing looks to me like tomfoolery!" ejaculated the banker,
as he drew the papers toward him, and signed them rapidly. "Patricia,
you are the party of the third part, here, and you can sign them at
your leisure. I've got to go, also. Melvin, you can send my copy of
the contract direct to me, when it is ready."
"It is your turn now, Miss Langdon," said the lawyer, in his most
professional tone, as soon as her father had gone. But, instead of
signing, Patricia, for the first time since the beginning of this
confused condition of affairs, lost her pride and became the emotional
young woman that she really was.
Without a word of warning, she burst into a passion of tears. Throwing
her arms upon the table, she buried her face in them, and sobbed on
and on, convulsively, vehemently, inconsolably.
The lawyer, stirred out of his professional calm by this human side of
the cold and haughty young woman, placed one hand tenderly, if
somewhat tentatively, upon her shoulder. For a time, he patted her
gently, while he waited for her tempest to pass.
"There, there, my dear. Don't let it affect you so," he said. "It is
nothing but a storm-cloud, that will quickly pass away. It is just
like a thunder-shower, very dark while it lasts, but making all the
brighter the sunshine that follows it. I know how you have been tried,
and how your pride has been hurt; but, child, there are two kinds of
pride in everybody, and it is never quite easy to determine which is
which. I strongly suspect, my dear, that you have been actuated by a
feeling of false pride, in the position you have taken as to this
matter. I won't attempt to advise you, now. Don't sob so, my dear. It
will all come out right."
She raised her head from the table, and looked at him, pathetically.
"I am so sorry, Mr. Melvin," she said, slowly, with a catch in her
breath as she spoke. "I seem to have done everything wrong, in this
matter. I've made everybody unhappy." Again, she buried her face in
her arms, and sobbed on, with even more abandon than before.
"My child," said the lawyer, "I've lived long enough in the world to
discover that it is never wise to permit ourselves to be actuated by
false motives. You will discover the truth of that statement, later
on; you are only just beginning to realize it, now."
She made no reply to this, but a moment later she started to her feet,
and again became the haughty, self-contained, relentless, Juno.
"Give me the pen," she said. "I will sign."
"If you will take my advice," replied the lawyer, without moving, "you
will tear up those three documents, or direct me to do so, and leave
things as they are."
"No," she replied. "I will sign."
"Very well, Patricia." He pushed the documents toward her, and watched
her with a half-smile on his professional face, while she appended her
signature to each of them. A moment later, he escorted her from the
office, and assisted her into the waiting car. Then, he stood quite
still and watched it as it carried her away from the business-section
of the city. He shook his head and sighed, as he reentered the
building where his office was located.
"Poor child," he was thinking to himself; "she didn't tee-off well, in
the beginning of this game, and she encountered the worst hazard of
her life when she came up against her own unyielding pride. Poor
child! So beautiful, so good, so tender of heart, she hides every real
emotion she possesses behind an impenetrable barrier, barring the
expressions of her natural affections with an icy shield which she
permits no one to penetrate. For just a moment, she let me see her as
she is; I wonder if she has ever permitted others." He got out of the
elevator, and walked slowly toward his office-door, pausing midway
along the corridor, and still thinking on, in the same fashion. "I
must find a way to help her, somehow. Old Malcolm Melvin, whose heart
is supposed to be like the parchments he works upon, must make himself
the champion of this misguided girl. Ah, well, we shall see what can
be done. We shall see; we shall see." He passed inside his office
then, and in a moment more had forgotten, in the multitudinous affairs
of his professional life, that such a person as Patricia Langdon
existed.
* * * * *
That Monday, in the evening, at his rooms, Roderick Duncan received
two letters. One was delivered by messenger; the other came by post.
He recognized the handwriting on the envelope of each, and for a
moment hesitated as to which of the two he should read first. One, he
knew, was sent by Sally Gardner; the other was from Patricia.
He laid them on the table in front of him, and stood beside it looking
down upon the two envelopes with a half-smile upon his face, which was
weary and troubled; then, with a broader smile, he took a coin from
his pocket and flipped it in the air.
A glance at the coin decided him, and he took up Sally's letter and
broke the seal. He read:
"My Dear Roderick:
"I promised you, when you left me Saturday night, to communicate with
you at once. Beatrice is quite ill, although you are not to infer from
this statement that her indisposition it at all serious. I have merely
insisted that she should remain in bed at my house yesterday and
to-day.
"On no account should you seek her at present nor should you attempt
to communicate with her. I will keep you informed as to her condition
because I realize that you will be anxious, inasmuch as you doubtless
hold yourself responsible for the present state of affairs. Be
satisfied with that, and believe me,"
"Loyally your friend,
"SALLY GARDNER.
"P. S. Doubtless you will see Jack at the club this evening. Let me
advise you not to discuss with him anything that happened Saturday
night after his departure with Patricia. I have thought it best to
keep that little foolish affair a secret between ourselves.
S. G."
Duncan stood for a considerable time with the letter held before his
eyes, while he went over in his mind the chain of incidents that
followed upon his meeting with Beatrice Brunswick in the box at the
opera-house. Presently, he returned the letter to the envelope, and
laid it aside, while he took up the other one, addressed in the
handwriting of Patricia.
He read it slowly, with widening eyes; and then he read it again, more
slowly, as if he were not certain that he had read it aright before.
Finally, with something very nearly approaching an oath, he crushed
the short document in his hand, and strode to the window, where he
stood for a long time, staring out into the darkness, without moving.
His valet entered the room and made some remark about dressing him for
the evening, but Duncan sharply ordered the man away, telling him to
return in half an hour. Afterward he went back to the table where
there was more light, and smoothed out the crumpled page of
Patricia's letter, so that he could read it a third time.
It was very short and very much to the point; and it had brought with
it a greater shock than he could possibly have anticipated. The
strange part of it was that he did not comprehend the precise
character of that shock. He did not know whether he was pleased, or
displeased; whether he was amused, or angry--or only startled.
Certainly, he had never thought of expecting such a communication as
this from Patricia Langdon. The letter was as follows:
Four, P. M., Monday.
"Dear Roderick:
"According to the document signed jointly by you, my father and
myself, and witnessed by Mr. Malcolm Melvin at his office at ten
o'clock this morning, I was given the undisputed right to name the day
for the ceremony, which is to complete the transaction as agreed upon
among us three, but more particularly between you and me. I have
thought the matter over calmly and dispassionately, since I parted
with you at the lawyer's office, and have decided that, all things
considered, it will be best not to defer too long the conditions of
that transaction.
"I have decided that the ceremony--a quiet one--shall be performed by
the Rev. Dr. Moreley, at the Church of the Annunciation, at ten
o'clock in the morning, one week from to-day, which will be Monday,
the thirteenth.
"If there should be any important reason why you prefer to change this
date, you may communicate the same to me at once, and I shall consider
it; but if not, I greatly prefer that matters should stand as I have
arranged them.
"PATRICIA LANGDON."