SHEILA RETREATS
The explanation of this extraordinary meeting, which had so mystified
Sheila, lay in a last revolt of the miser. Once out of her presence, Max
Fargus was constantly terrified at the gradual perversion of his own
character. He could refuse his wife nothing, or resisted only long
enough to learn anew the completeness of his surrender. From an agony of
foreboding he vacillated to an ecstasy of defeat. His own impotence
mystified him, for he believed that he resisted with all his being, not
realizing that in an infatuation half of the man combats for the woman.
Then he could never comprehend the use of money. Money spent was money
lost. He would have denied angrily being a miser and would have argued
that in allowing his wealth to accumulate he individualized it and
turned it into a human agency which returned him the most satisfying of
sensations,--power.
For the first time in his life he felt the need of a friend to advise
and to steady him. But what he had cried out to Sheila was literally
true, he had not a friend in the world, not even an acquaintance to whom
he could turn. In all his business dealings he had sought to make
himself feared. He disdained conciliation, to prevail by sheer autocracy
alone intoxicated him.
In this perplexed mood he found himself one morning, in what seemed to
him the most accidental manner, face to face with his former attorney,
Alonzo Bofinger. The familiar face evoked the memory of an unexampled
moderation. A quick thought was followed by a bow. He stopped, giving
him a smiling,
"Good morning, Sir."
The lawyer shifted his glance a moment, then with a blank countenance
passed on.
"But I'm not mistaken, it must be him," Fargus said doubtfully, and he
called again, "Mr. Bofinger, hello there!"
The lawyer halted, wheeled, and said in a puzzled voice:
"Yes? What? Who is it?"
"Say now," Fargus protested, "you know me."
"Not at all, sir."
"Why, I was your client a month ago."
"Indeed?"
"You remember me now?"
"Not in the street, sir," Bofinger said with a smile. "My memory stops
at my office."
"But if I let you," Fargus said, much impressed.
"That is different. How do you do? You may remember I don't know your
name."
Such scrupulousness completed the favorable impression of the
misanthrope. He nodded approvingly and said:
"Mr. Bofinger, you please me, I like your ways. And if you'll come
around to the restaurant, I'd like to consult you--I want some advice.
My name's Fargus, Max Fargus--you know that name, I'll bet."
"What, are you _the_ Fargus!" Bofinger exclaimed, taking a step
backwards.
"The same," Fargus said with a chuckle, flattered by the tribute. "You
wonder why I came to you, don't you--on the quiet?"
"I am a little puzzled, I admit it, Mr. Fargus," Bofinger replied,
putting a new deference into his address.
"I've been bitten too often," Fargus said with a grim nod. "There's a
lot of your profession, Mr. Bofinger, who ain't no better than crooks!"
"Far too many," Bofinger said solemnly. "But I hope a better day will
come."
They arrived in the private office. For the third time Fargus fidgeted
and repeated:
"I want some advice."
"Well, sir, I hope I can help you," Bofinger said encouragingly.
"Mr. Bofinger," Fargus blurted out, "you remember Miss Vaughn?"
"Perfectly."
"Mr. Bofinger, won't you have something?" Fargus said desperately. The
lawyer named his drink. His host, turning from the waiter, faced him
with the manner of one about to overwhelm him with his disclosure.
"She is now Mrs. Fargus--my wife."
"Indeed?" the lawyer said politely, shooting up his cuffs, but nodding
without astonishment.
"Well, doesn't that surprise you?" Fargus said, opening his eyes. Shrewd
and tricky in his little specialty, in the minor experiences of life he
was a little dull.
"Yes and no," the lawyer answered, examining the ash of his cigar. "From
the standpoint of your attorney, yes. From any other standpoint," he
added with a smile, "no."
"Then you suspected all the time?"
"Pardon me," Bofinger said, raising his hand half-way. "It was not my
business to suspect, my business was to believe what you said. So Miss
Vaughn is your wife?"
"Yes."
"I hope you're happy."
"That's just it," Fargus said, seizing the opening, "that's the point.
You put your finger on it without knowing it. I can't say I am
happy--altogether happy."
"Well, let's hear about it," Bofinger said with bluff directness.
"The trouble is this," Fargus said doubtfully. "A woman has no idea of
money, except to spend it and--you know yourself--it ain't easy to
refuse one anything--particularly--well--when you're fond of her."
"Say, now, ain't this about it?" Bofinger said, abandoning his stilted
accents for an air of rough and confidential understanding. "This is the
trouble. You're in love with a pretty woman, a remarkably pretty and
charming woman--a whole lot in love. Now she, like a woman, a pretty
woman, thinks more of pleasure than you do, wants to be out and seeing
and wants to be out and be seen."
"Yes," Fargus assented, and with a sigh he echoed faintly, "yes."
"And she probably thinks that you're much better off than you are,"
Bofinger said with a wise nod.
"That's it; there, that is it!"
In his eagerness, Fargus extended his hand until it touched the lawyer
on the sleeve.
"Doesn't understand that just because you run a few fine places, that
don't mean money--but expenses."
"Ah, Mr. Bofinger!" Fargus said, raising his hands.
"Come, now, you're worried over expenses at home, or rather at what you
may be getting into, and you find the trouble is here,--dealing with a
woman you're in love with ain't like talking business to a man."
"Mr. Bofinger," Fargus said solemnly, "You've struck the nail on the
head. That's my case--you can't handle a woman like a man."
"Of course not. You're not the man to do it either. You'd spend
everything on her!"
Fargus, with an effort, allowed the statement to pass without betraying
his emotion.
"I'll tell you the best way," Bofinger said, after drumming a moment
with his fingers, while Fargus pricked up his ears. "Here, this is it!
Get a friend to talk to her."
"How so?"
"Why, a friend--the right sort--could do this," Bofinger continued. "He
could tell her confidentially--that he thought--that he rather
suspected, well, that he'd heard things weren't going as well with you
as people thought. In fact, he feared you were going to have a close
squeeze. He needn't say anything direct now, that would make her
suspicious, but he might advise _her_ to beg _you_ to cut expenses down
all you could."
"Mr. Bofinger," Fargus cried, slapping his hands together, as Bofinger
with a satisfied chuckle turned to him for his approval, "that's an
elegant idea! And you're the man to do it!"
"Me?" Bofinger exclaimed, in real surprise at such quick success. "But
I'm not exactly, do you think, in the position of a friend?"
"She'd never know it!" Fargus insisted. "I say, you're the man."
"Why, frankly, sir," the lawyer objected, "I can't see I'd do--I really
don't--you can't say those things off-hand--I'd have to get acquainted
more--"
Bofinger resisted so well and protested so earnestly that, an hour
later, Fargus carried him away, under his arm, to that meeting which had
come so near to Sheila's undoing.
The situation was a perilous one for the lawyer. There was, he knew, the
insane jealousy of the misanthrope to be reckoned with, the danger that
Fargus would fear more from his intimacy than from the prodigality of
his wife. Fortunately for Bofinger, Sheila's attitude had completely
reconciled Fargus, who wanted her to receive advice, but more that it
should come from unwelcome lips.
In a fever of trepidation, Sheila awaited the next meeting with the
lawyer. The sense of peril had sent her panic-stricken, with almost
affection, to the shelter of her husband. The instinct of safeguarding
her home and the memory of her pinched and wandering career impelled her
towards all the virtues, in an incentive to flight from the menace of
the lawyer.
Many times she debated the consequences which would follow confession
and an appeal to her husband's generosity. Invariably she recoiled, as
before an impossibility, convinced that he would never pardon the
slightest deception. She had divined under the intoxication of love the
implacable, dormant fierceness of the misanthrope, and with this
perception she came to recognize by what slender bonds she held his
savage nature imprisoned. To surrender a moment her supremacy meant at
best servitude. Besides, in her ignorance of the law she saw no escape
from the marriage contract which lay in the hands of Bofinger.
To her annoyance, it was not until the third afternoon that the lawyer
arrived. From her window she discovered him sauntering elegantly toward
her, displaying to the street a brilliant tan vest, a pair of lavender
trousers, and a smooth gray cutaway. A villain masked has thrice the
terror of a villain seen, and to the despairing woman this outward
semblance of the negligent dandy magnified immeasurably the lurking
venom of the shyster beneath.
She went hurriedly down the stairs, rehearsing the dozen and one
evasions she had prepared in making up the account he had come to
demand.
"He cannot prove I am lying," she thought defiantly. "Let him make a
scene if he wants to. As for the furniture and the expense of fitting up
the house, that belongs to Fargus. On that point I won't yield." Then,
as his step sounded, she opened the door and said pleasantly, "Well,
you've come at last."
"Ah, Mrs. Fargus, I am unlucky! You are going out?" he said, starting
back with a frown and speaking punctiliously. "But I may come in, for a
moment? Just for a moment, then."
"Fargus is not in," she said, sneering at his sleek hypocrisy, "and no
one is around."
"Excuse me, every one is around!" he said savagely, pushing past her.
"Neighbors have eyes as well as ears. Oblige me by not coming to the
door until I ring!"
"A pleasant introduction."
He shrugged his shoulders and made a quick survey. Returning to the
parlor he took his seat by the window, to command a view of the street.
"Sit there," he said, placing a chair. "Now no one can steal in on us."
He stretched out his legs, quizzing her with a smile, in which he took
no pains to conceal his vanity.
"You were a little surprised to see me the other night, just a leettle,
eh?"
"How long have you known Fargus?" she said instantly.
"You heard what he said."
"Then you deceived me."
"If what he said is true."
She saw that she would learn nothing from him, so, drawing back, she
said angrily:
"Very well. Is this why you came?"
"No," he said sharply, and abandoning his coxcomb attitude he sat erect
with a jerk, brought his brows together above his joined fingers,
staring at her so fixedly that Sheila nerved herself for the dreaded
demand.
"Sheila," he said moodily, "why didn't you complain of this box of a
house, as I told you?"
"Because I did not intend to play blindly."
He shifted his glance, gazing moodily out of the window until, with a
pucker of his lips, he said condescendingly:
"Blindly, Sheila? I thought you more clever than that. You missed a
trick. We must quarrel before him. If you had obeyed me I should have
pooh-poohed your extravagant ideas. We would have been at once on bad
terms. Do what I tell you another time."
"Why, what is the use?"
"To work into his confidence and get rid of his infernal jealousy, my
dear."
"But why make him stingy? Certainly that's not our game."
"That's but temporary," he said after a long pause.
"Now be frank with me," she said anxiously. "What are you trying to do?
You've got a new plan, haven't you?"
"None whatever," he said with emphasis. "One may come. On my honor, I
have nothing in mind now but to work into his confidence and become the
friend of the family. The advantage to us is obvious."
The reply did not convince her. Despite his glibness she felt that he
was deceiving her. She pressed him for some time, but without success.
Finally, as she persisted, demanding his confidence, he cut her short by
rising and saying:
"I mustn't stay too long. It's understood now you are to hate me?"
"Very well."
"Not difficult, eh?" he said with a laugh.
"No."
He turned upon her violently, catching her wrists.
"Don't try any tricks on me, my dear!"
"You hurt," she said in white anger, but without resistance.
"You heard?"
"I hear."
"And remember this," he said without releasing her. "When Fargus asks
what we talked about, say that I told you I thought he was hard up and
worried over his business."
"I hear."
"And I told you to make him go slow."
"I hear."
"There," he said, smiling and releasing his hold. "Don't be a little
fool. Act square and you won't regret it. Au revoir."
It was not until he had gone that she remembered with a shudder of
foreboding that he had not once referred to their contract or demanded
his account. The thought left her frightened and dismayed. Without a
doubt he had changed his plan of campaign. Yet what could be his new
purpose and why should he want to cater to her husband's avarice? Did he
plan, when he had gained his complete confidence, to carry off by some
master stroke what he would have to wait for painfully, year by year?
She asked herself twenty such uneasy questions and resolved that, until
she had forced Bofinger's confidence she would do nothing to further his
purposes.
"Well, have you seen Mr. Bofinger yet?" Fargus asked on his return.
"He called."
"Indeed," he said with a start. "And what did you talk about?"
"Mr. Bofinger preached to me about--economy," she said slowly.
"Well, well," he said, at loss for a comment. "And how do you like him
now?"
"Max, I wish you'd tell me something?" she said earnestly, laying her
hand on his shoulder. "Is he your lawyer? Does he have charge of
anything for you?"
"No, no!" he said, shaking his head. "I look after my own business,
thank you! Still, Bofinger is a good fellow; though you're set against
him, aren't you?"
"I?" she said in surprise, "oh, I was--"
"Well?" he said fretfully.
"Why, this afternoon I liked him better. Why did you say he wasn't a
lady's man? I should say just the opposite."
"Nonsense!" he said angrily. "So you like him?"
"Yes," she admitted thoughtfully. "Yes, I do. He's quite different when
you talk to him, alone." She added pensively, "What funny eyes he
has,--very handsome, don't you think?"
"What do you mean? What makes you say that?" Fargus said in great
disturbance.
"Oh, you silly man!" she said, throwing back her head and laughing.
"Don't look so fierce. The idea! A man doesn't make love to you the
first time he calls!"