A DISAPPEARANCE
The iron thrall of winter was broken at last. Great winds still blew in
the valley, but their keen edge was dulled. Their errand was not to
destroy now, but to build. Robins and bluejays, coming before the
daffodils dared, looked down from bare boughs upon the receding line of
snow on the Porter hillside. The yellow river had shaken itself free of
ice, and its swollen flood rolled seaward. Porter watched it from his
windows; and early in March he was allowed to take short walks in the
grounds, followed by his Scotch gardener, with whom he planned the
floral campaign of the summer. Indoors he studied the alluring
catalogues of the seedsmen, an annual joy with him.
Grant was still at home. He had not been well, and Evelyn kept him out
of school on the plea that he would help to amuse his father. Porter was
much weakened by his illness, and though he pleaded daily to be allowed
to go to the bank, he submitted to Evelyn's refusal with a tameness that
was new in him. Fenton came several times for short interviews; Thompson
called as an old friend as well as a business associate, but he was
prone to discuss his own health to the exclusion of bank affairs.
Wheaton was often at the house, and Porter preferred his account of
bank matters to Thompson's. Wheaton carried the figures in his head, and
answered questions offhand, while Thompson was helpless without the
statements which he was always having the clerks make for him. Porter
fretted and fumed over Traction matters, though Fenton did his best to
reassure him.
He did not understand why Saxton should have been made receiver; if
Fenton was able to dictate the appointment, why did he ignore Wheaton,
who could have been spared from the bank easily enough when Thompson
returned. Fenton did not tell him the true reason--he was not sure of it
himself--but he urged the fact that Saxton represented certain shares
which were entitled to consideration, and he made much of the danger of
Thompson's breaking down at any moment and having to leave. Porter
dreaded litigation, and wanted to know how soon the receivership could
be terminated and the company reorganized. The only comfort he derived
from the situation was the victory which had been gained over Margrave,
who had repeatedly sent messages to the house asking for an interview
with Porter at the earliest moment possible. The banker's humor had not
been injured by the fever, and he told Evelyn and the doctor that he'd
almost be willing to stay in bed a while longer merely to annoy Tim
Margrave.
"If I'd known I was going to be sick, I guess I wouldn't have tackled
it," he said to Fenton one day, holding up his thin hand to the fire.
The doctors had found his heart weak and had cut off his tobacco, which
he missed sorely. "I might unload as soon as we can rebond and
reorganize."
"That's for you to say," answered the lawyer. "Margrave wanted it, and
no doubt he would be glad to take it off your hands if you care to deal
with him."
"If I was sure I had a dead horse, I guess I'd as lief let Tim curry him
as any man in town; but I don't believe this animal is dead."
"Not much", said the lawyer reassuringly. "Saxton says he's making money
every day, now that nobody is stealing the revenues. He's painting the
open cars and expects to do much better through the summer."
"I guess Saxton doesn't know much about the business," said Porter.
"He knows more than he did. He's all right, that fellow--slow but sure.
He's been a surprise to everybody. He's solid with the men too, they
tell me. I guess there won't be any strikes while he's in charge."
"You'd better get a good man to keep the accounts," Porter suggested.
"Wheaton's pretty keen on such things."
"Oh, that's all fixed. Saxton brought a man out from an Eastern audit
company to run that for him, and he deposits with the bank."
"All right," said Porter, weakly.
Saxton came and talked to him of the receivership several times, and
Porter quizzed him about it in his characteristic vein. Saxton was very
patient under his cross-examination, and reassured the banker by his
manner and his facts. Porter had lost his cocky, jaunty way, and after
the first interview he contented himself with asking how the receipts
were running and how they compared with those of the year previous.
Saxton suggested several times to Fenton that he would relinquish the
receivership, now that Porter was able to nominate some one to his own
liking. The lawyer would not have it so. He believed in Saxton and he
felt sure that when Porter could get about and see what the receiver had
accomplished he would be satisfied. It would be foolish to make a change
until Porter had fully recovered and was able to take hold of Traction
matters in earnest.
Saxton had suddenly become a person of importance in the community. The
public continued to be mystified by the legal stroke which had placed
William Porter virtually in possession of the property; and it naturally
took a deep interest in the court's agent who was managing it so
successfully. Warry Raridan was delighted to find Saxton praised, and he
dealt ironically with those who expressed surprise at Saxton's capacity.
He was glad to be associated with John, and when he could find an
excuse, he liked to visit the power house with him, and to identify
himself in any way possible with his friend's work. During the extreme
cold he paid, from his own pocket for the hot coffee which was handed up
to the motormen along all the lines, and gave it out to the newspapers
that the receiver was doing it. John warned him that this would appear
reckless and injure him with the judge of the court to whom he was
responsible.
Though Porter was not strong enough to resume his business burdens, he
was the better able in his abundant leisure to quibble over domestic and
social matters with an invalid's unreason. He was troubled because
Evelyn would not go out; she had missed practically all the social
gaiety of the winter by reason of his illness, and he wished her to feel
free to leave him when she liked. In his careful reading of the
newspapers he noted the items classified under "The Giddy Throng" and
"Social Clarkson," and it pained him to miss Evelyn's name in the list
of those who "poured," or "assisted," or "were charming" in some
particular raiment. Evelyn was now able to plead Lent as an excuse for
spending her evenings at home, but when he found invitations lying about
as he prowled over the house, he continued to reprove her for declining
them. He had an idea that she would lose prestige by her abstinence; but
she declared that she had adopted a new rule of life, and that
henceforth she would not go anywhere without him.
The doctor now advised a change for Porter, the purpose of which was to
make it impossible for him to return to his work before his complete
recovery. Evelyn and the doctor chose Asheville before they mentioned it
to him, and the plan, of course, included Grant. Mrs. Whipple still
supervised the Porter household at long range, and the general
frequently called alone to help the banker over the hard places in his
convalescence, and to soothe him for the loss of his tobacco, which the
doctors did not promise to restore.
A day had been fixed for their departure, and Mrs. Whipple was reviewing
and approving their plans in the library, as Evelyn and her father and
Grant discussed them.
"We shall probably not see you at home much in the future," Mrs. Whipple
said to Mr. Porter, who lay in invalid ease on a lounge, with a Roman
comforter over his knees. "You'll be sure to become the worst of
gad-abouts--Europe, the far East, and all that."
Porter groaned, knowing that she was mocking him.
"I guess not," he said, emphatically. "I never expect to have any time
for loafing, and you can't teach an old dog new tricks."
"Well, you're going now, anyhow. Don't let this girl get into mischief
while you're away. An invalid father--only a young brother to care for
her and keep the suitors away! Be sure and bring her back without a
trail of encumbrances. Grant," she said, turning to the boy, "you must
protect Evelyn from those Eastern men."
"I'll do my best," the lad answered. "Evelyn doesn't like dudes, and
Warry says all the real men live out West."
"I guess that's right," said Mr. Porter.
She rose, gathering her wrap about her. Grant rose as she did. His
manners were very nice, and he walked into the hall and took up his hat
to go down to the car with Mrs. Whipple. It was dusk, and a man was
going through the grounds lighting the lamps. Mrs. Whipple talked with
her usual vivacity of the New Hampshire school which the boy had
attended, and of the trip he was about to make with his father and
sister. They stood at the curb in front of the Porter gate waiting for
her car. A buggy stopped near them and a man alighted and stood talking
to a companion who remained seated.
"Is this the way to Mr. Porter's stable?" one of the men called to them.
"Yes," Grant answered, as he stepped into the street to signal the car.
The man who had alighted got back into the buggy as if to drive into the
grounds. The street light overhead hissed and then burned brightly above
them. Mrs. Whipple turned and saw one of the men plainly. The car came
to a stop; Grant helped her aboard, and waved his hand to her as she
gained the platform.
At nine o'clock a general alarm was sent out in Clarkson that Grant
Porter had disappeared.