Meanwhile outside in the waiting-room, Lawrence Challoner walked
dismally to and fro. For, notwithstanding, that in the last hour a great
joy had come to him, this room had awakened memories of that other
occasion, when, likewise, waiting for Murgatroyd, his life had hung in
the balance. A wave of pity took possession of him--pity for himself for
his then mistaken views of life, pity for the little wife, who had stood
so nobly by him; and, suddenly, he quickened his steps, as if impatient
for the time to come when he could make amends for the great wrong he
had done her. In a measure, entering into his thoughts, though her own
were somewhat complex, Shirley Bloodgood, from where she sat in a far
corner of the room, also waited nervously for the door to open. And it
was thus that Miriam Challoner came upon them, her eyes glistening, a
happy smile on her face.
"Laurie, Shirley," she stammered, "Mr. Murgatroyd says--no, come, he'll
tell you himself." And taking their willing hands into hers, she led
them back into the prosecutor's private office, from which they had been
so unceremoniously evicted a little while before.
Miriam Challoner's intimation that good news would be forthcoming was
indeed rather vague; nevertheless, unconsciously, both were affected by
her mood, and came into the room, smiling. Perhaps it affected
Murgatroyd, too, for it was with his most genial manner that the
hitherto imperturbable prosecutor, from where he sat on the edge of the
table, his arms folded, singled out Shirley, and said:--
"Ready for the lynching, Miss Bloodgood?"
A look of surprise crossed Shirley's features, but she scorned to
answer.
Murgatroyd was now standing, his back still to the table.
"Would you mind locking that door," he called to Challoner; and turning
to the ladies: "Mrs. Challoner, take that chair, please," pointing to
one nearest to him, "and, Miss Bloodgood, that," indicating one next to
Miriam's.
Meantime, Challoner had returned, and was waiting, hesitatingly, near
the door.
"Aren't you going to join the family circle, Laurie?" the prosecutor
said lightly.
Challoner then came forward, and placed his chair between the two women.
Murgatroyd's manner suddenly became chilly, stern, in short, once more
he was the prosecutor of the pleas. Addressing Challoner, whom he looked
well in the eye, he began:--
"Mrs. Challoner has asked me to go on a hundred thousand dollar
construction-bond for you; also, to loan you considerable money."
There was a dramatic pause. And except for a questioning glance from
Challoner and Shirley, which found a ready answer in the eyes of Miriam,
his listeners did not move nor speak.
"There it is," announced Murgatroyd, in the same business-like tone; and
stepping aside from the table, revealed two old, battered, dust-covered,
sheet-iron boxes.
"Those boxes!" exclaimed Mrs. Challoner, who was visibly excited. "What
is in them?" she asked in bewilderment.
"I don't know," returned Murgatroyd calmly.
There was no question in the minds of the prosecutor's visitors but that
these boxes were the same that Miriam had brought to him so long ago,
filled with negotiable securities, to the extent,--as Miriam was not
likely to forget,--of eight hundred and sixty thousand dollars; but, as
to their present contents, all, naturally, were at a loss to conjecture.
So, no one spoke, but continued to wait expectantly for Murgatroyd to
make the next move. Apparently, however, that was far from his
intention, and after a moment Shirley broke out with:--
"Do you mean to say that you don't know what is in them?"
"Miss Bloodgood, there's only one person in this room who knows that,"
he replied quietly. Then turning to Mrs. Challoner, he went on in the
same tone:--
"Do you see these seals?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Unbroken, are they not?"
"Yes," again she assented faintly.
"Well, then, you know what is inside of them; I do not."
"I?--" faltered Miriam. "Why----"
Then followed a moment of racking suspense for all, except, perhaps,
Murgatroyd.
"Mrs. Challoner," he resumed, "you told me once that there were eight
hundred and sixty thousand dollars in negotiable securities in these
boxes. If what you then said was true, there they are, coupons and all."
"But, Mr. Murgatroyd," protested Mrs. Challoner, "you said that you did
not have any money...."
Murgatroyd smiled.
"I spoke the truth. But you...." And now, to Challoner's great surprise,
Murgatroyd fixed his eyes on him, and said in a voice that impressed
them all the more, inasmuch as it was filled with a kindly confidence
rather than with distrust:--
"There's eight hundred and sixty thousand dollars in those boxes,
Challoner, belonging to your wife. Can you stand having it back again?"
Challoner looked puzzled; for as Miriam had told Shirley, he had had no
reason to believe that his wife's fortune had not all been spent by
them. Slowly he began to understand, but he was too overcome to speak.
Presently he found his voice and said:--
"Can I stand----"
"Yes," interrupted Murgatroyd, "you know what money did for you
before--what it led to--" He broke off abruptly, and turning to Shirley
he added: "I told you once, Miss Bloodgood, that there was but one way
to cure a bad millionaire, but one way to reform him, and that was to
take away his millions. Well, I took away his!"
All eyes now rested on Challoner, who, oblivious to his surroundings,
seemed lost in thought,--and who can tell what dreams may come to one
suddenly lifted from the depths of poverty back again to affluence. But
in any event, looking the prosecutor straight in the face he said in an
easy, determined voice:--
"Billy Murgatroyd, a little while ago you asked whether I could stand
having all this again; the past five years of my life is my answer to
that."
This reply brought to his wife's face a look of pride, and unconsciously
she straightened up in her chair; while Shirley sighed perceptibly.
"Laurie," went on Murgatroyd, still probing, but not unkindly, "what are
you going to do with all this money?"
"You'll have to ask Miriam about that," he returned quickly; and then
with a charming smile, he added: "I have learned that a man's mission is
to make money, and a woman's...."
Suddenly, Challoner grew thoughtful again.
"To think of the time," he said, half-aloud, "that it took Miriam and me
to save five hundred dollars!"
"That five hundred that you saved," commented Murgatroyd solemnly, "is
worth more to you than all this eight hundred and sixty thousand."
"There's no mistake about that either, Murgatroyd," spoke up Challoner
promptly; but bending over his wife, he added with a fascinating
smile:--
"Miriam, you're going to let me build that hospital, aren't you?"
Simultaneously with Miriam's monosyllabic answer, Murgatroyd glanced at
Challoner sharply, not forgetting, quite naturally, how easy in the past
it had been for the husband to get whatever he wanted from his wife; his
doubts, however, were only momentary, for presently he pushed the boxes
toward them, saying:--
"There it is--it all belongs to you."
But in all this Shirley had been strangely silent.
"Mr. Murgatroyd," she now said icily, "do you mean to tell us that your
only motive in taking this money was to save Mr. Challoner?"
Murgatroyd took a few steps toward her and regarded her coolly.
"No--and you alone were right. I was bribed--I was corrupt--I was a
thief."
"No, no," cried out Shirley, relenting.
"Yes," he went on mercilessly, "it is true. It was my ambition that did
it. Besides, I was tempted by a woman----"
"A woman----" faltered the girl.
"Like Adam, I'm blaming it on Eve. This woman wanted me to be, well,
really great----"
"You----"
"Yes," he persisted, "I was bribed. I took the money. Oh, you don't know
about me! You don't know what I was five years ago! It seemed to me then
that money was the only thing that could make me really great. I knelt
at the shrine of money--loved it as a dipsomaniac loves his bottle."