"I will tell you, Mr. Wainwright. It was the only way to avoid
failure--the one chance to save me from utter financial ruin. You look
at me as though I were crazy.--Well, I'm not. You think you know a good
deal of my business affairs, but you know precious little and I tell you
now, without discussing it, I had to die to make life worth living. If I
had failed--well, there's no use talking 'ifs.' The point is this. I've
been carrying a load that's pretty nearly done for me, but which'll give
me the biggest harvest I've ever reaped. The devils think they've got me
down, but I'll teach 'em who Josiah Bateman is!"
The old man's eyes glittered and he struck the desk with his fist, but
his manner was no more extravagant than usual, so I only said, "We are
still dealing in mysteries, Mr. Bateman."
"I'm explaining as fast as I can, Sir! When I first entered upon the
deal I'm now carrying through I thought I had plenty of money for it.
But the unexpected happened again and again, and last month I began to
turn things into cash. Since then I've needed more and more money,
needed it so badly I dare not ask for it, needed it cruelly, horribly.
I've borrowed in every place where it would not ruin me to negotiate a
loan--I'm at the end of my rope and I must have more money by Tuesday
next."
"By Tuesday next?" I queried.
"Yes. Do you know how much life insurance I carry and where?"
"A hundred thousand in the Equitable and a hundred thousand in the
Mutual," I replied.
"Quite so--" he answered. "Well then--I've got to have that money."
I looked at the stern, haggard face before me. Anxiety and sleeplessness
had wrought great havoc with the man.--What if it had touched his brain?
He interpreted my thought instantly.
"Leave your revolver alone, Mr. Wainwright! I'm quite as sane as you are
and a good bit smarter if you don't yet see my scheme."
"I think I prefer not to see it or hear it either," I answered.
"Nonsense, you've got to do both, and in the shortest possible time too,
for I've had to waste a week already. I observe you were about to open
my old Will. Well, it's no good. I've made another and here it is,
signed, sealed, published, declared, witnessed and all the rest of the
rot. This you will probate to-morrow morning. It appoints you my sole
executor, gives you absolute power for five years to continue and
conduct my business just as it is, leaves the bulk of my property to
clerks and charities (for I haven't got as much as a second cousin
living in the world), and it provides that my executor have one hundred
thousand dollars in lieu of his fees."
"That is generous," I observed.
"I think it just," he replied, taking no notice of my smile. "Now
listen," he continued. "By Tuesday morning you will be able to collect
on my life insurance. The proofs are complete. Yes, and genuine too. The
doctor, the undertaker, the guides, all honestly believe I'm the corpse,
and it does resemble me wonderfully. Lord, but I've sweated in working
it out! By Tuesday, I say, those Insurance Companies will be satisfied,
and they pay promptly, for the bigger the claim the better the
advertisement. But if they delay, the fact of my death will tie up those
devils who are trying to down me, for a few days at least. When you get
the cash, pay it out under my directions and we'll roast the whole gang
of them and Josiah Bateman will return to life ten times a millionaire,
for I tell you, Wainwright, this is the biggest thing you've ever been
in!"
"It is unique in more respects than one," I answered.
"It is simplicity itself. Only the details were difficult. Even getting
here, disguised as I am, was not easy without attracting too much
notice, and----"
"You might have saved yourself that trouble," I interrupted.
"No, I had to see you to-night. To-morrow you would have probated that
old Will instead of----"
"Writing out our resignations."
"What do you mean?" he gasped.
"Am I not clear enough?"
"You don't mean to say you won't carry this thing through?"
"I hoped you would come to your senses, Mr. Bateman, before a
declination was necessary," I observed, keeping my eyes steadily upon
the twitching face of my client.
He stared at me for a moment in silence, and then burst out,
"Nonsense, Wainwright, nonsense! You don't understand! What's the matter
with you, anyway? I have desperate need of money and cannot get it from
any ordinary channel without ruin. I so arrange that I shall be thought
dead. I have absolutely no relations. You collect my life insurance and
pay the money where I direct, and I am saved financially. I can then
return and the amount paid by the life Insurance Companies will be
refunded, and who, in God's name, is hurt?"
"I have heard," I began, smiling, "that emergency evolves ethics,
but----"
"O don't go sermonizing about ethics, and stop that silly smiling!
Either I'm crazy, in which case you ought to humour me, or sane, and
entitled to an intelligent hearing. I understand the proposition is a
new one. It is made for new facts. But that does not argue it a crime.
The only possible wrong in it is involved in the probate affidavits,
but you know in nine out of ten cases you don't comply with the statutes
in making affidavits, so there's no perjury. I only ask you to tell a
lie--a lie which cannot possibly hurt anybody, but which will save me."
"And incidentally help to perpetrate a fraud on the Insurance
Companies."
"An innocent fraud!--We will return the money with interest the moment
it goes through."
"And if it does not go through?"
"It will.--It cannot fail, I tell you! But if it does," Mr. Bateman
looked me steadily in the eyes, "if it does fail, no harm will be done.
I shall be dead. Before God, I swear it."
There was tragedy written on the man's earnest face, and a note of
pathos sounded in his voice. For a moment neither of us spoke.
"Mr. Bateman," I said at last. "Because I have listened to you, you must
not suppose I have for one instant countenanced your scheme. It is
impossible from beginning to end. Suppose we terminate this
interview----"
"I see it!" he exclaimed suddenly--"I see it! You think the plan will
fail and you take some risk for no gain in case my estate is bankrupt. I
have said that if I do not get money I am ruined. I would not be,
strictly speaking, a bankrupt. With my plans gone wrong my estate would
still amount to $75,000. Your fee is safe. I have provided for that in
the Will. Read it and see if I am not right. I cannot prove to-night the
accuracy of my figures. To that extent you must trust me."
It was pathetic to hear this rough old man pleading in such a manner. I
suddenly felt more sorry than indignant and answered him quite gently.
"I'm not practicing law, Mr. Bateman, merely for fees, or for only one
case. I am following it as a career."
"What in hell's name has that got to do with it?" he burst forth
angrily. "I'm sick and tired of your hypocrisy and that of your whole
legal crew. You take cases you don't believe in, argue to prove what you
know is false, defeat the laws, shield the dishonest, help criminals to
escape, bully and insult honest men, tell lies, act lies, live lies,--do
anything and everything that's safe and disgusting--and yet you prate
to me about your career! Your career indeed! God save me from the smirch
and smirk of it all!"
"Have you quite finished, Mr. Bateman?"
The old man's face was purple with rage and his hands trembled as they
clutched the arms of his chair. It was not until the look of hate faded
from his eyes that he spoke again.
"No, Sir, I've not finished--but I apologise for what I said. It was
childish--foolish. I was at the end of my patience for it seems so
unjust that you should take such a stand. I ask you to save me from what
would be ruin to me, for what should be a fortune to you. I ask you to
do no wrong to any man, woman or child in the world. I have toiled years
and years in my business. I have suffered to get what I have, and I
made every dollar honestly, by my brains alone. I have only one
ambition--have had only one thought for years--to die a rich man--the
successful merchant of my time. A poor ambition you think? Well, it's my
heart's desire. Take it away and I am dead. I have no wife, no children,
no relatives of any sort. Examine my Will and see what I propose to do
with my money. What have I to live for save the joy of making? Oh, man,
man, can't you understand? Don't you see what this means to me?"
I could not at once find an answer for the poor wretch, almost frantic
with anxiety. He interpreted my silence hopefully, for he continued,
"I ask you to take but little upon faith. If my plan succeeds, as it
must, no one will lose save those who in commercial venture have staked
upon my failure, and who have no idea to-day how near I am to it. The
Insurance Companies will regain their money and more advertisement than
they could get elsewhere in twenty years. If I fail, they will only have
paid the money a few days too soon. You believe that? You must know I
could not survive failure. But you need not rely on this, for you are
safe in the fact that I cannot return without facing a prison for my few
remaining years. When first I came here to-night, Mr. Wainwright, it was
to open your safe and substitute the Wills and let you do unknowingly
what I now ask and implore you to do knowingly.--You will do it, will
you not?"
"Mr. Bateman,--once and for all,--I will not."
"You won't help me? Then, by God, you shan't hinder me!"
I sprang to my feet, but before I understood what was taking place I saw
a flash, and one of the window panes behind me shattered. Almost at the
same instant I launched myself upon the old man with such force that we
both crashed to the floor, I upon his prostrate body. The struggle was
brief, for I was young and powerfully built, and the man beneath me well
advanced in years. Pinning his arms with my knees I tore the revolver
from his hand and hurled it across the room. Then he ceased struggling
and I turned him over easily, tying his arms with my handkerchief. But
there was little need of this precaution, for his strength was gone, and
it was necessary to help him into a chair. Some moments passed before he
said anything. When he spoke there were tears in his voice.
"Forgive me, Mr. Wainwright. I don't know what possessed me. The
disappointment--the disappointment of a life's work must have suddenly
crazed me. But I am sane now and I was before. Everything I told you is
true.--I know it is impossible now to hope for anything.--Will you take
me to a hospital? I am a sick man, Mr. Wainwright--a very sick man, but
I do not wish to live. Everything--I told you--is true."
* * * * *
Ten days later Josiah Bateman died at the hospital where I took him that
night.
"It is a singular case," the House Physician told me, "but not unheard
of. He simply lacked the zest for living."
Mr. Bateman's second Will was never probated. A few days before he died
he sent for it.
"What is to-day?" he asked as I gave him the document.
"Wednesday," I answered.
"It is too late now," he whispered. "I have lived too long. I revoke
this." He tore the paper as he spoke.
We proved the old Will, but he had perfected his plans only too well. It
was difficult to make out a case of mistaken identity for the body in
the Adirondacks, and it was months before we established our rights to
the insurance moneys. His estate did not realise quite $100,000, but
after a close examination into his affairs I am persuaded all Josiah
Bateman claimed he could accomplish was possible, and that everything he
told me that night was absolutely true.