A FATHER'S RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION
For an instant the old cashier stood like one suddenly paralyzed before
the door of the private office from which that terrified scream had
issued.
Great God! was he mad or dreaming, that he should imagine he heard his
daughter Margery's voice calling for help from within?
But even as he stood there, trembling, irresolute, the piercing cry was
repeated more shrilly, more piteous than before, and it cut through the
frightened father's heart like the thrust of a dagger.
"I am coming, I am here, Margery!" he answered, twisting the bronze knob
fiercely; But the door did not yield to his touch as usual, and to his
horror he realized that it was locked upon the inside!
With the fury of a tiger, David Conway threw himself against it with all
his strength; strong as the lock was, it could not withstand the weight
that was brought to bear upon it, and in an instant it was snapped
asunder, the door falling in with a crash.
With a terrible imprecation Kendale wheeled about, his grasp around the
girl's waist slackening for a single instant.
And in that instant Margery sprang from him, darting into the arms of
her father, who had leaped over the threshold.
"How dare you enter here?" shrieked Kendale, fairly beside himself with
baffled rage.
The old cashier thrust his daughter behind him and walked up to the
foiled villain, gazing him steadily, unflinchingly in the eye.
"I am here just in time to defend my child," he cried, white to the
lips, "and here to chastise you, you villain, old man as I am"--and with
the rapidity of lightning his clinched fist fell upon the face of the
man before him with stinging blows, that resounded with all the strength
and force of a steel hammer.
Kendale, who was by this time entirely under the influence of the brandy
he had imbibed, was no match for the enraged cashier, who followed up
his advantage by ringing blows, which fell as thick and fast as driving
hail, until the other, coward as he was, fell down on his knees before
him, shrieking out for mercy.
The unusual disturbance soon brought a throng of cashiers, bookkeepers
and clerks flocking to the scene.
The old cashier turned upon them, holding up his hand to stay their
steps as they crowded over the threshold, Mr. Wright, the manager,
calling upon him anxiously to explain at once this unusual scene--this
disgraceful encounter between his employer, who seemed unable to speak
because of his injuries, and himself.
"It is due you all to know just what has happened," replied the old
cashier, in a high, clear voice, "but I say to you, by the God above me,
if this hound dares arise from his knees ere I have finished, I will
kill him before your very eyes. There is something he has to say before
you all while still on his knees. Let no man speak until I have had my
say, and then you--my companions of years, my fellow-workers, my friends
of a lifetime--shall judge of my action in this matter and deal with me
accordingly."
The scene was so extraordinary that no man among them seemed capable of
uttering so much as a syllable, so great was their consternation at
beholding their employer on his knees, groveling before the old cashier,
who stood over him like an aroused, avenging spirit.
In a voice high and clear the old cashier, whom they had known and
revered for years, told his story in a simple, straightforward way, yet
quivering with excitement, drawing his terror-stricken daughter Margery
into the shelter of his strong arms as he spoke.
"I am Margery's father--her only protector," he said, in conclusion.
"Is there a man among you with a father's heart beating in his bosom who
would not have done as I have done to the villain who dared to thus
insult his child. Ay, there are men among you who would not have
hesitated to have stricken him dead with a single blow--who would have
considered it a crime to have spared him."
By this time Kendale was recovering from the stunning blows which had
been dealt him--realized that help was at hand; the employees would be
in duty bound to protect him from the enraged man before him.
He realized, too, that the old cashier meant that he should remain there
on his knees and beg the girl's pardon before all these people.
Ere Mr. Conway could judge of his design the bogus Lester Armstrong had
bounded to his feet and into the midst of the crowd.
"You are discharged!" he cried, turning to the old cashier. "I will give
you just ten minutes to get out of this building--you and the girl, both
of you. It was a plan hatched up between you and her to extort money
from me."
The old cashier attempted to spring at him, but the strong hands of
indignant, pitying friends held him back.
Suddenly he stopped short, saying, with a dignity wonderful to behold:
"It is not necessary, I think, to ask any of you, who all know me so
well and know also my little Margery, not to give credence to so heinous
a statement. I am going from this place, friends. I would not stay
another moment in this villain's employ, nor would my Margery, though he
weighed us down with all the wealth the world holds. Come, Margery."
The crowd slowly parted, making way for them, and together Margery and
her father passed through the line of sympathizing faces, hand in
hand--the old man white, stern and resolute, pretty Margery sobbing as
though her heart would break.
Mr. Wright, the manager, who had been--like the old cashier--fully five
and twenty years beneath that roof, turned and faced the throng, saying,
huskily:
"Mr. Armstrong, I herewith tender you my resignation. My friend of a
lifetime is going, and I shall go, too."
"And I," "And I," "And I," quickly rang out, voice after voice.
"Confound you all, I discharge the whole lot of you!" shouted Kendale,
now quite sobered by the excitement he was passing through. "Don't think
your going troubles me even a little bit. The set of men don't live who
will ever trouble me or my business!"
With great rapidity the men fled from the private office, and, without
waiting even to close their ledgers, took down their coats and hats, got
into them quickly and filed downstairs.
Kendale never could fully comprehend how it happened that in five
minutes' time the five hundred employees of the place heard what had
occurred, and in less time than it takes to recount it the strangest
event that had ever taken place in the annals of a great New York
business house occurred--there was a mighty uproar and by one accord the
great throng of employees quitted their tasks--badly as they needed
work--and dashed out into the street, leaving the vast emporium to the
hundreds of astonished customers with which it was crowded at that hour.
For an instant Kendale was horror-stricken when he realized what was
occurring.
"God Almighty!" he gasped, "I am ruined, disgraced! A thousand furies
take that girl; but she shall pay dearly for this. The police will be
here to quell the riot and disperse the crowd outside, and turn out the
people who are still inside!"
Looking from the window, he saw that the throng of angry employees were
gathered around the old cashier and his daughter in a mighty mob.
"Good Lord! if Halloran were only here, to advise me this time," he
muttered, turning pale with fear. He could hear their loud, angry voices
hurling imprecations at him, and he knew full well that he would never
be able to pass through that throng of thoroughly aroused and angry men
without their doing him bodily injury, and he told himself in affright
that all the Marsh millions for which he had bartered his soul would not
save him from the hands of that raging mob.