John Covington's mind had been fully occupied during the few days which
succeeded Harris's call. Inwardly he blamed himself as a bungler not to
have covered his footsteps with greater skill; outwardly he was as
unruffled and self-satisfied as ever. He called on Brady with Harris, as
he promised. He allowed them both to explain their plans with even
greater detail than Harris's previous disclosures. He listened, calmly
and unprotestingly, to their confident statements as to what they
proposed to make him, as a director in the Consolidated Companies, do
for them. Then with equal serenity he flatly declined to yield to the
pressure brought to bear upon him.
"I suppose you understand what this means to you," Brady snapped,
angered by the unexpected refusal.
"Better than you do, I feel certain."
"What will the virtuous Mr. Gorham say when he finds out that you hold
all that stock?"
"He will give your statement no credence whatever."
"But we can prove it to him."
"On the contrary, you will find yourself unable to do this."
"Didn't Harris show you that list?"
"Yes; but that was some days ago."
"You've unloaded, eh? That won't help you any. We'll find out who's got
it."
"You need not take any trouble about the matter, as I am quite ready to
give you the necessary information. Miss Gorham now holds the shares."
"Gorham's daughter?" queried Harris. "Does he know it?"
"I really don't know whether Miss Gorham has advised her father or not;
that is her affair."
"Well, we'll see that he does know it," stormed Brady; "and will also
see that he knows how you've unloaded it on her."
"You may find some difficulty," Covington replied, suavely. "The
certificates, you know, never stood in my name. I simply acted as the
young lady's agent. If you can make any capital out of that, you are at
perfect liberty to do so. Was there any other detail in connection with
this matter which you wished to discuss with me? Mr. Harris and you have
been most confidential, and I might possibly feel inclined to
reciprocate."
"You know too damned much already," retorted Brady, savagely. "I was a
fool not to put the deal through before Gorham got into the game. After
that it was too late--the stockholders would never have stood for our
extra rake-off after he put them wise."
Harris's face paled. "You don't mean that there's danger of our getting
thrown down, do you?" he queried in a tense voice. "I've put every
dollar I own and some I don't own into this pool with you."
Brady struck him familiarly on the back and laughed. "You are in hard
when you show the white feather like that. Cheer up. There's no question
of being thrown down. What do you take me for? It's only a question of
whether or not we can get all there is in it--that's what I'm worrying
about. Gorham's been getting next to Littleton and Graham all summer.
I've tried to find out just what he was up to, but he's smarter in
covering his tracks than I am to uncover 'em, even if he ain't quite so
smart in some other directions. He's been in to see me several times,
and there hasn't been a word to make me think that things ain't going
through just as we planned 'em; but if they are, what's he monkeying
round with those other fellows for? That's what I want to know. If our
friend here feels like reciprocating, as he says he does, now's his
chance."
Covington watched the two men closely. He may have enjoyed the fact that
the course of the conversation had turned, but if so he gave no evidence
of it.
"You have placed me in possession of certain information which obviously
would not assist in carrying out your plans," he remarked, suggestively.
"Now, this whole transaction, as I informed Mr. Harris, is in Mr.
Gorham's hands. Under certain conditions, I might not feel it incumbent
upon me to interfere."
"And those are?" asked Harris.
"That you forget my insignificant part in the purchase of Miss Gorham's
stock," he replied. "It is not of great concern to me, and you are
perfectly free to communicate it to Mr. Gorham if you choose; but in
view of certain things which have occurred since, I should be glad to
have the matter dropped if agreeable to you."
"That's easy enough," Brady remarked, showing signs of relief. "Is that
all?"
"Yes," Covington replied; "I am not as avaricious as you are in
exacting my pound of flesh. Now, one other thing in order to give good
measure: it may interest you to know that Mr. Gorham went over the
contract with me yesterday in detail, and he is going to accept it as it
stands, paying you the price you named."
"You saw what it stipulated, Covington? It covers everything just as we
turn it over. He can find out all in good time what three lines ain't
included, and also the price his precious Companies will have to pay for
them."
"He appeared to be perfectly satisfied," Covington continued, calmly. "I
should judge that everything was all right."
"Then he's been wastin' time," growled Brady, "and he can have all the
pink teas he wants with Littleton and Graham. We directors have the
authority, anyhow; nobody could stop us. Who the devil is Gorham to
dictate to me? He thinks he's the whole show, he does. It makes me sick
to see him swellin' around with that girl wife of his. She's a stunner
all right, and I don't blame him; but who the devil is she? Somebody's
divorced wife, ain't she, Covington? Does anybody know anything about
her? He ain't so much." He took out his watch and looked at it
mechanically. "I guess I'm gettin' old to have these nervous spells--it
ain't like me."
Covington bade them good-morning and returned to his office fairly well
satisfied. The danger of the present situation had been minimized. He
felt sure that Alice would not go out of her way to acquaint her father
with the name of the stock by which her property would be handsomely
increased, and he knew that Gorham's mind was too full of other matters
to press her for the details unless she volunteered them. But he must
be more discreet, this he realized. If the matter could be dropped here,
he would have learned a useful lesson; and then, too, the interview had
not been without a suggestion which was well worth following up. It
occurred to Covington, in view of Brady's remark, that he had been
unpardonably obtuse in neglecting to acquaint himself with the details
of Mrs. Gorham's early life. He knew vaguely that she had been the
victim of unpleasant experiences before her present marriage, but what
they were he had never learned. There might be something in them which
it would be to his advantage to know, and it could surely do no harm to
make a quiet investigation.
On the following day, Covington found himself in front of an
old-fashioned brick building standing almost significantly in the shadow
of the Tombs. He paused for a moment to wonder at the enormous gaudy
sign, "Levy & Whitcher's Law Offices," running across the front and side
of the edifice, which impressed him with a sense of its vulgarity. The
door creaked as Covington opened it and passed on into the dingy
offices--even dingier than the nature of the business done in them
required, because of the dirt-trodden floors and their unwashed windows.
He pushed his way through the bunch of process-servers, messengers, and
clerks who littered up the outer office, almost tripping over a torn
law-book on the floor, and finally found his way to the waiting-room of
Mr. Levy's private sanctum in the rear. Here he was subjected to a
careful scrutiny by the lawyer's "secretary," whose personal appearance
seemed to indicate greater familiarity with the prize ring than with
clerical labors. There may have been method in his selection, as Mr.
Levy was a gentleman whose professional life had been spent in
undertakings which a conservative insurance company might classify under
"hazardous risks."
Levy had reached a point in his career when he could afford to keep his
clients waiting. He and his partner, during the twenty-five years they
had been together, had prospered even beyond their early dreams of
avarice. It was their boast that during their partnership it had not
been necessary to open a law-book three times. There was always a way to
beat a case "on the facts," and they had learned the way. They kept no
books, and the pleasantest part of each day's business was the
five-o'clock adjournment to a neighboring saloon, where the partners had
punctiliously divided the millions which came to the firm during the
years of their successful association.
After a delay which proved more or less aggravating to Covington, he was
ushered into the presence of the "great" man. Levy endeavored to be
courteous in his reception, but Covington showed scant interest in
conventions. He plunged at once into the nature of his business, finding
Levy an interested and sympathetic listener. It was some minutes after
his caller ceased speaking that the silence was broken.
"Well," Covington said at length, coldly, "does the matter interest
you?"
"I was deliberating," the lawyer rejoined, almost as if in apology.
"Do you think you can discover anything of interest?"
Levy smiled blandly. "How can I say as yet?" he replied, conservatively.
"There are certain elements which might contain interesting and
promising details--a famous man married to a divorced woman twenty-five
years his junior. We might easily find enough so that if you cared to
push it he would prefer to make some concessions rather than suffer any
unpleasant notoriety; and she may have a past which she would do much to
keep forgotten. Yes, there are possibilities. Do you wish me to
investigate?"
"How long will it take?"
"It may require a fortnight; it may take six months."
"By that time you would know whether there was anything in it?"
"Assuredly."
"Then you may proceed. Advise me when you are ready to talk and I'll
come in again."
"There is one other matter," added Levy. "In case the affair develops,
it may be fairly expensive."
Covington looked at him curiously. "I presume so," he said. "Before we
get into it too far, I shall insist upon some understanding. I am not
your debtor yet, am I?"
"The investigation will entail some expense and time," Levy continued,
thoughtfully. "You might pay me--say, five thousand as a retainer."
"This is a business proposition, Mr. Levy," Covington reminded him,
sharply. "Thus far I have looked upon myself as a possible plaintiff in
the affair--not as a defendant. I am not obliged to proceed in the
matter, and will drop it right here if you propose to start in by trying
extortion on me."
Levy was grieved that any one should so misconstrue his motives. "This
isn't a childish play we're going into, Mr. Covington," he replied,
mildly. "Gorham is big game, and I presume you expect to gain something
out of this little affair."
"You presume too much," Covington said, shortly. "Comments are neither
asked for nor desired. If you wish to do this work for me, I will pay
you a fair price--yes, a high price--for your services, but no
blood-money. I'll pay you a thousand dollars now as a retainer; I'll pay
all reasonable expenses and four thousand dollars more in case you find
anything of interest to me. Then, if I decide to use the information
later, I'll make a trade with you at that time on the basis of what it
is worth. Do you care to accept the case on these terms?"
"The conditions are most unusual," Levy wavered.
"The case itself is an unusual one," Covington replied. "The chances are
a hundred to one that you find nothing, in which case you will have
earned your fee easily. Beyond this the odds are at least as great that
I shall make no use of what you find out, anyway, which means that I
shall have paid a large price to gratify my whim."
"There is something in what you say," admitted Levy.
"Then you will undertake it on my terms?"
"Yes; give me your check for a thousand dollars and I'll start the ball
rolling."
"My check?" queried Covington. "I have no doubt currency will be equally
acceptable."
"Thank you very much," Levy replied, genially, placing the bills
carefully within a capacious wallet against the happy hour of five
o'clock in Mulligan's conveniently located saloon.