Galusha did not answer. He regarded his relative vacantly, opened his
mouth, closed it, sighed and turned toward the dining room. By this time
most of the congregation were already in the yard and, as Cabot and
his companion emerged into the dripping blackness of out-of-doors, from
various parts of that blackness came the clatter of tongues and the
sound of fervent ejaculations and expressions of amazement.
“Well! WELL! Don't talk to ME! If this don't beat all ever _I_ see!...”
“I should say it did! I was just sayin' to Sarah B., s' I, 'My soul and
body,' s' I, 'if this ain't--'”... “And what do you s'pose made him--”
“And when they turned up them lights and I see him standin' there
jammin' her down into that chair and wavin' that big fist of his over
top her head, thinks I, 'Good-NIGHT! He's goin' to hammer her right down
through into the cellar, don't know's he ain't!'”
These were a few fragments which Cousin Gussie caught as they pushed
their way to the gate. In one spot where a beam of light from the window
faintly illuminated the wet, he glimpsed a flowered and fruited hat
picturesquely draped over its wearer's ear while from beneath its
lopsided elegance a tearful voice was heard hysterically demanding to
be taken home. “Take me home, 'Phelia. I--I--I... Oh, take me home!
I--I--I've forgot my rubbers and--and I feel's if my hair was comin'
off--down, I mean--but--oh, I don't CARE, take me HOME!”
Galusha, apparently, heard and saw nothing of this. He blundered
straight on to the gate and thence along the road to the Phipps'
cottage. It seemed to Cabot that he found it by instinct, for the fog
was so thick that even the lighted windows could not be seen further
than a few yards. But he did find it and, at last, the two men stood
together in the little sitting room. Then Cousin Gussie once more laid a
hand on his relative's arm.
“Well, Galusha,” he said, again, “what about it?”
Galusha heaved another sigh. “Yes--ah--yes,” he answered.
“Yes--ah--quite so.”
“Humph! What is quite so? I want to know about that stock of the
Wellmouth Development Company.”
“Yes.... Yes, certainly, I know.”
“That Captain--um--What's-his-name, the picturesque old lunatic with the
whiskers--Hallett, I mean--made a statement that was, to say the least,
surprising. I presume he was crazy. That was the most weird collection
of insanity that I ever saw or heard. Ha, ha! Oh, dear!... Well, never
mind. But what did old Hallett mean by saying he had sold YOU his four
hundred shares of that stock?”
Galusha closed his eyes. He smiled sadly.
“He meant that he had--ah--sold them to me,” he answered.
“LOOSH!”
“Yes.”
“Loosh, are you crazy, too?”
“Very likely. I often think I may be. Yes, I bought the--ah--stock.”
“You bought the--YOU? Loosh, sit down.”
Mr. Bangs shook his head. “No, Cousin Gussie,” he said. “If you don't
mind I--I won't sit down. I shall go to my room soon. I bought Captain
Hallett's stock. I bought Miss Phipps', too.”
It was Cabot himself who sat down. He stared, slowly shook his head, and
then uttered a fervent, “Whew!”
Galusha nodded. “Yes,” he observed. “Ah--yes.”
“Loosh, do you know what you are saying? Do you mean that you actually
bought Hallett's four hundred shares and this woman's--?”
“Miss Phipps is her name. Miss Martha Phipps.”
“Yes, yes, of course. And you bought... Eh? By Jove! Is THAT what you
did with that thirteen thousand dollars?”
Again Galusha nodded. “Yes,” he said.
Cousin Gussie whistled again. “But why did you do it, Loosh?” he asked,
after a moment. “For heaven's sake, WHY?”
Galusha did not answer immediately. Then he said, slowly: “If--if you
don't mind, Cousin Gussie, I think I should tell HER that first. That
is, I mean she should--ah--be here when I do tell it.... I--I think I
will change my mind and sit down and wait until she comes.... Perhaps.
you will wait, too--if you don't mind.... And, please--please don't
think me rude if I do not--ah--talk. I do not feel--ah--conversational.
Dear me, no.”
He sat down. Cabot stared at him, crossed his knees, and continued to
stare. Occasionally he shook his head, as if the riddle were proving
too much for him. Galusha did not move. Neither man spoke. The old clock
ticked off the minutes.
Primmie came home first. “Miss Martha said to tell you she would be over
in a few minutes,” she announced. “Cap'n Jeth, he's a-comin' around all
right, so Miss Martha and Zach and them think. But, my savin' soul, how
he does hang onto Lulie! Keeps a-sayin' she's all he's got that's true
and honest and--and all that sort of talk. Give me the crawlin' creeps
to hear him. And after that seance thing, too! When that everlastin'
foghorn bust loose the first time, I cal'lated--”
Galusha interrupted. “Primmie,” he suggested, gravely, “would you--will
you be--ah--kind enough to go into the kitchen?”
“Hey? Go into the kitchen? Course I will. What do you want in the
kitchen, Mr. Bangs?”
He regarded her solemnly. “I should like to have you there, if you don't
mind,” he observed. “This gentleman and I are--we would prefer to be
alone. I'm very sorry, but you must excuse me this time and--ah--go.”
“Go? You want me to go out and--and not stay here?”
“Yes. Yes--ah--quite so, Primmie. Ah--good-night.”
Primmie departed, slamming the door and muttering indignation. Galusha
sighed once more. Then he relapsed into silence.
Twenty minutes later Martha herself came in. They heard her enter the
dining room, then Primmie's voice in resentful explanation. When Miss
Phipps did come into the sitting room, she was smiling slightly.
“Primmie's heart is broken,” she observed. “Oh, don't worry, it isn't
a very serious break. She hasn't had so much to talk about for goodness
knows when and yet nobody wants to listen to her. I told her to tell
Luce about it, but that didn't seem to soothe her much. Luce is Lucy
Larcom, Mr. Cabot,” she explained. “He is our cat.”
Cousin Gussie, already a much bewildered man, looked even more
bewildered, but Martha did not observe his condition. She turned to his
companion.
“Mr. Bangs,” she said, “it's all right. Or goin' to be all right, I'm
sure. Cap'n Jeth is takin' the whole thing a good deal better than I was
afraid there at first. He is dreadfully shaken, poor man, and he seems
to feel as if the last plank had foundered from beneath him, as father
used to say; but, if it doesn't have any worse effect than that, I shall
declare the whole business a mercy and a miracle. If it has the effect
of curin' him of the Marietta Hoag kind of spiritualism--and it really
looks like a cure--then it will be worth all the scare it gave us. At
first all he would say was that everything was a fraud and a cheat,
that his faith had been taken away, there was nothin' left--nothin'. But
Lulie, bless her heart, was a brave girl and a dear one. She said, 'I am
left, father. You've got me, you know.' And he turned to her and clung
to her as if she was his only real sheet anchor. As, of course, she is,
and would have been always if he hadn't gone adrift after Little Cherry
Blossom and such rubbish. Mr. Bangs, I--”
She paused. She looked first at Galusha and then at the Boston banker.
Her tone changed.
“Why, what is it?” she asked, quickly. “What is the matter?... Mr.
Bangs--”
Galusha had risen when she entered. He was pale, but resolute.
“Miss Phipps,” he began, “I--I have been waiting to--to say something to
you. I--ah--yes, to say something. Yes, Miss Phipps.”
It was the first time he had addressed her as “Miss Phipps” for many
months. He had, ever since she granted him permission and urged him to
drop formality, addressed her as Miss Martha and seemed to take pride
in that permission and to consider it an honor. Now the very fact of his
returning to the old manner was, although she did not yet realize it, an
indication that he considered his right to her friendship forfeited.
“Miss Phipps,” he began once more, “I--I wish to make a confession, a
humiliating confession. I shall not ask you to forgive me. I realize
that what I have done is quite beyond pardon.”
He stopped again; the road was a hard one to travel. Martha gazed at
him, aghast and uncomprehending. Cabot, understanding but little more,
shrugged his shoulders.
“For heaven's sake, old man,” he exclaimed, “don't speak like that! You
haven't committed murder, have you?”
Galusha did not answer nor heed him. It was to Martha Phipps he spoke
and at her that he looked, as a guilty man in the prisoners' dock might
regard the judge about to pronounce his death sentence.
“Miss Phipps,” he began, for the third time, “I have deceived you. I--I
have lied to you, not only once but--ah--ah--a great many times. I am
quite unworthy of your respect--ah, quite.”
Martha's face expressed many things, absolute amazement predominant.
“Why--why, Mr. Bangs!” she gasped. “What--”
“Pardon me,” went on Galusha. “I was about to explain. I--I will try to
make the explanation brief. It is--ah--very painful to me to make and
will be, I fear, as painful for you to hear. Miss Phipps, when I told
you--or gave you to understand--that my cousin here, or his firm, Cabot,
Bancroft and Cabot, bought that--ah--Development stock of yours, I
deceived you; I told you a falsehood. They did not buy it.... I bought
it, myself.”
He blurted out the last sentence, after a short but apparent mental
struggle. Martha's chest heaved, but she said no word. The criminal
continued:
“I will not attempt at this time to tell you how I was--ah--forced into
buying it,” he said; “further than to say that I--I had very foolishly
led you to count upon my cousin's buying it and--and felt a certain
responsibility and--a desire not to disappoint you. I--of course,
I should have told you the truth, but I did not. I bought the stock
myself.”
Again he paused and still Martha was silent. Cousin Gussie seemed about
to speak and then to change his mind.
“Perhaps,” went on Galusha, with a pitiful attempt at a smile, “you
might have forgiven me that, although it is doubtful, for you had
expressly forbidden my lending you money or--or assisting you in any
way, which I was--please believe this--very eager to do. But,
after having bought it, I, as I say, deceived you, falsified,
prevaricated--excuse me--lied to you, over and over.... Oh, dear me!”
he added, in a sudden burst, “I assure you it is unbelievable how many
falsehoods seemed to be necessary. I lied continually, I did, indeed.
“Well, that is all,” he said. “That is all, I believe.... I--I am
very sorry.... After your extreme kindness to me, it was--I... I think
perhaps, if you will excuse me, I will go to my room. I am--ah--somewhat
agitated. Good-night.”
He was turning away, but Cabot called to him.
“Here, wait a minute, Loosh,” he cried. “There is one thing more
you haven't told us. Why on earth did you buy Hallett's four hundred
shares?”
Galusha put his hand to his forehead.
“Oh, yes, yes,” he said. “Yes, of course. That was very simple. I
was--ah--as one may say, coerced by my guilty conscience. Captain
Hallett had learned--I don't know precisely how, but it is quite
immaterial--that Miss Phipps had, through me and to you, Cousin Gussie,
as he supposed, sold her shares. He wished me to sell his. I said I
could not. Then he said he should go to your office in Boston and see
you, or your firm, and sell them himself. I could not allow that, of
course. He would have discovered that I had never been there to sell
anything at all and--and might have guessed what had actually happened.
So I was obliged to buy his stock also and--and pretend that you had
bought it. I lied to him, too, of course. I--I think I have lied to
every one.... I believe that is really all. Good-night.”
“One more thing, Loosh. What did you do with the certificates, Hallett's
and Miss Phipps'? You got them, I suppose.”
“Eh? Yes, oh, yes, I got them. I don't know where they are.”
“WHAT? Don't know where they ARE?”
“No. I took them to your office, Cousin Gussie. I enclosed them in
a large envelope and took them there. I gave them to a person
named--ah--Taylor, I think that was the name.”
“Taylor? There is no Taylor in our office.”
“It was not Taylor. It may have been Carpenter, although that doesn't
seem exactly right, either. It was the name of some one--ah--a person
who does something to you, you know, like a tailor or a carpenter or
a--a butcher--or--”
“Barbour! Was it Barbour?”
“Yes, that was it--Barbour. I gave Mr. Barbour the envelope. I don't
know what he did with it; I told him I preferred not to know.... Please
excuse me. Good-night.”
He turned abruptly and walked from the room. They heard him ascending
the stairs. For a moment the pair he had left looked at each other in
silence. Then Cabot burst into a shout of laughter. He rocked back and
forth in his chair and laughed until Martha, who was not laughing, began
to think he might laugh forever.
“Oh, by Jove, this is funny?” he exclaimed, as soon as he could speak.
“This is the funniest thing I ever heard of. Excuse the hysterics, Miss
Phipps, but it certainly is. For the past month Williams and I, through
this fellow Pulcifer down here, have been working heaven and earth to
get the six hundred and fifty shares of that stock we supposed you and
Hallett owned. And all the time it was locked up in my own safe there
in Boston! And to think that old Loosh, of all persons, should have put
this over on us. Ho, ho, ho! Isn't it rich!”
He roared and rocked for another interval. Still Martha did not speak,
nor even smile. She was not looking at him, but at the braided rug
beneath her feet, and he could not see the expression of her face.
“I may as well explain now,” he went on, when this particular laugh was
over, “that my friend Williams is one of the leading hotel men of this
country. He owns two very big hotels in Florida and one in the Tennessee
mountains. He has for some time been looking for a site on which to
build another here on the northern coast. He was down this way a while
ago and, quite by accident, he discovered this shore property which, he
found out later, was owned by the Wellmouth Development Company. It was
ideal, according to his estimate--view, harbor, water privileges,
still water and surf bathing, climate--everything. He came to me and we
discussed buying it. Then we discovered that this Development Company
owned it. Fifty thousand dollars, the concern's capitalization, was
too much to pay. A trust company over here in your next town had
twelve hundred shares, but we found out that they knew the value of the
property and, if they learned what we were up to, would hold for a
fancy price. So, through this chap Pulcifer--we bought HIS five hundred
shares--we began buying up the thirteen hundred which would give us a
controlling interest and force the other crowd to do what we wanted. We
picked up the small holdings easily enough, but we couldn't get yours or
Hallett's. And for a very good reason, too. Ho, ho, ho! And old Loosh,
of all people! Ho, ho!”
Still Miss Phipps did not laugh, nor did she look at him. “By the way,”
he observed, “I presume my--er--relative paid you a fair price for the
stock, Miss Phipps?”
“He paid me twenty dollars a share,” she said, quietly.
“Did he, indeed! Well, that is more than we've paid any one else, except
Pulcifer. We allowed him a commission--a margin--on all he succeeded in
buying.... Humph!... And I suppose Galusha paid old Hallett par, too.
But why he should do such a thing is--well, it is beyond me.”
She answered, but still she did not look at him.
“He told you,” she said. “He knew I needed money. I was foolish enough
to let him guess--yes, I told him that I had a hard time to get along.
He was interested and he tried to cheer me up by tellin' me he thought
you might buy that stock of mine. He couldn't have been more interested
if it had been somethin' of his own. No, not nearly so much; he and his
own interests are the last thing he thinks about, I guess. And then he
kept cheerin' me up and pretendin' to be more and more sure you would
buy and--and when he found you wouldn't he--but there, he told us the
truth. _I_ understand why he did it, Mr. Cabot.”
The banker shook his head. “Well, I suppose I do, too, in a way,” he
said. “It is because he is Galusha Bangs. Nobody else on earth would
think of doing such a thing.”
“No, nobody else would. But thirteen thousand dollars, Mr. Cabot! Why,
that's dreadful! It's awful! He must have used every cent he owns, and
I didn't suppose he owned any, scarcely. Oh, Mr. Cabot, I must pay
him back; I must pay him right away. DO you want to buy that stock he
bought? Will you buy it of him, so he can have his money again?”
She was looking at him now and her voice was shaking with anxiety. Cabot
laughed once more.
“Delighted, Miss Phipps,” he assured her. “That is what I have been
trying to do for a month or more. But don't worry about old Galusha's
going broke. He--why, what is it?”
“Oh, nothin'. I was thinkin' about what he did and--and--”
“Yes, I know. Isn't it amazing? I have known him all my life, but I'm
never sure how he will fly off the handle next. Of course, I realize you
must think him a perfect jackass, an idiot--”
“What! Think him WHAT?”
“An idiot, an imbecile. Nine people out of ten, those who don't know him
well, do consider him just that. Yet he isn't. In some respects he is a
mighty clever man. In his own line, in this musty-dusty museum business
of his, this Egyptology he is so cracked about, he is really very close
to the top. Geographic societies all over the world have given him
medals; he is--why, if he wished to he could write a string of letters
after his name a yard long. I believe--hang it, it sounds absurd, but
I believe he has been--er--knighted or something like it, in one
heathenish little kingdom. And in Washington there, at the Institute,
they swear by him.”
She nodded. “They have just made him a wonderful offer to be the head of
another expedition,” she said.
“So? Well, I am not surprised. But in most respects, outside of his
mummy-chasing, he is an absolute ass. Money? Why, he would give away
every cent if it occurred to him to do so. HE wouldn't know nor care.
And what might become of him afterward he wouldn't care, either. If it
wasn't that I watch him and try to keep his money out of his hands, I
don't know what would happen. Kind? Yes, of course. And generous; good
Lord! But when it comes to matters of sentiment like--well, like this
stock business for example, he is, as I say, an ass, that's all.... I am
telling you this, Miss Phipps, because I wouldn't wish you to consider
old Loosh altogether a fool, but only--”
He was sitting there, his knee in his hands, gazing blandly at the
ceiling and, in judicial fashion, summing up his relative's failings and
virtues, when he was interrupted. And the interruption was a startling
one. Martha Phipps sprang to her feet and faced him, her cheeks crimson
and her eyes flashing.
“Oh, how dare you!” she cried, with fiery indignation. “How CAN you?
You sit there and talk about him and--and call him names in that--that
condescendin' way as if he was dirt under our feet and yet--and yet he's
as far above us as the sky is. Oh, how can you! Don't you see how good
he is? Don't you SEE how he's sufferin' now, poor soul, and why? You say
he doesn't care for money; of course he doesn't. If it had cost fifty
thousand and he had it, I suppose he'd have used it just the same if he
thought it would help--help some friend of his out of trouble. But
what is tearin' him to pieces is the idea that he has, as he calls it,
cheated ME. That he has lied to Jethro and to me and hasn't been the
same straight, honest--GENTLEMAN he always is. That's all. HE doesn't
give himself credit for takin' his own money to help other folks with.
YOU would, _I_ would, but HE doesn't. He talks as if he'd robbed us,
or--or killed somebody or somethin'. He is the best--yes, I think he
is the best and finest soul that ever breathed. And you sit there
and--swing your foot and--and patronize--and call him a fool. A FOOL!...
I--I mustn't talk any more or--or I'll say somethin' I'll wish I
hadn't.... Good-night, Mr. Cabot.”
She had held her handkerchief tightly crumpled in her hand during this
outburst. Now she dabbed hastily with it at either eye, turned and
hastened into the dining room, closing the door behind her.
A minute later Primmie came into the room, bearing a lighted lamp.
“I cal'late now I can dast come in here, can't I?” she observed, with
dignity. “Anyhow, I hope so, 'cause Miss Martha sent me. She said I was
to show you where your bedroom was, Mr. Cabot.”
The Boston banker, who had scarcely recovered from the blast launched
at his head by his hostess, rose, still blinking in a dazed fashion, and
followed the lamp-bearer up the steep and narrow stairs. She opened a
door.
“Here you be,” she said, tartly. “And I hope you'll sleep 'cause I'm
precious sure _I_ sha'n't. All I'll see from now till mornin' is Cap'n
Jeth gettin' ready to lam that Marietta Hoag one over the top of the
head. My Lord of Isrul! Don't talk to ME!”
Cabot regarded her with interest. “What is YOUR name?” he inquired.
“Primrose Cash.”
“Eh? Primrose?”
“Um-hm. Name of a flower, 'tis. Some folks don't like it, but I do.”
“Primrose!” The visitor slowly shook his head. “Well--er--Primrose,” he
asked, “is there any other asylum in this vicinity?”
“Hey? ASYLUM? What--”
“Never mind. I wondered, that's all. Good-night.”
He took the lamp from her hand and went into his room. The amazed
Primmie heard from behind the door of that room a mighty roar of
laughter, laughter loud and long continued. Martha, in her room, heard
it and stirred indignantly. Galusha, in his room, heard it and moaned.
He wondered how, in all the world, there was any one who, on this night
of misery, could laugh.