When I saw I was to have a respite of a month or so, I went over to the
National Industrial Bank with Healey's roll, which my tellers had counted
and prepared for deposit. I finished my business with the receiving teller
of the National Industrial, and dropped in on my friend Lewis, the first
vice-president. I did not need to pretend coolness and confidence; my
nerves were still in that curious state of tranquil exhilaration, and I
felt master of myself and of the situation. Just as I was leaving, in came
Tom Langdon with Sam Ellersly.
Tom's face was a laughable exhibit of embarrassment. Sam--really, I felt
sorry for him. There was no reason on earth why he shouldn't be with Tom
Langdon; yet he acted as if I had caught him “with the goods on him.” He
stammered and stuttered, clasped my hand eagerly, dropped it as if it had
stung him; he jerked out a string of hysterical nonsense, ending with
a laugh so crazy that the sound of it disconcerted him. Drink was the
explanation that drifted through my mind; but in fact I thought little
about it, so full was I of other matters.
“When is your brother returning?” said I to Tom.
“On the next steamer, I believe,” he replied. “He went only for the rest
and the bath of sea air.” With an effort he collected himself, drew me
aside and said: “I owe you an apology, Mr. Blacklock. I went to the steamer
with Mowbray to see him off, and he asked me to tell you about our new
dividend rate--though it was not to be made public for some time. Anyhow,
he told me to go straight to you--and I--frankly, I forgot it.” Then, with
the winning, candid Langdon smile, he added, ingenuously: “The best excuse
in the world--yet the one nobody ever accepts.”
“No apology necessary,” said I with the utmost good nature. “I've no
personal interest in Textile. My house deals on commission only, you
know--never on margins for myself. I'm a banker and broker, not a gambler.
Some of our customers were alarmed by the news of the big increase, and
insisted on bringing suit to stop it. But I'm going to urge them now to let
the matter drop.”
Tom tried to look natural, and as he is an apt pupil of his brother's, he
succeeded fairly well. His glance, however, wouldn't fix steadily on my
gaze, but circled round and round it like a bat at an electric light. “To
tell you the truth,” said he, “I'm extremely nervous as to what my brother
will say--and do--to me, when I tell him. I hope no harm came to you
through my forgetfulness.”
“None in the world,” I assured him. Then I turned on Sam. “What are you
doing down town to-day?” said I. “Are you on your way to see me?”
He flushed with angry shame, reading an insinuation into my careless
remark, when I had not the remotest intention of reminding him that his
customary object in coming down town was to play the parasite and the
sponge at my expense. I ought to have guessed at once that there was
some good reason for his recovery of his refined, high-bred, gentlemanly
super-sensibilities; but I was not in the mood to analyze trifles, though
my nerves were taking careful record of them.
“Oh, I was just calling on Tom,” he replied rather haughtily.
Then Melville himself came in, brushing back his white tufted burnsides and
licking his lips and blinking his eyes--looking for all the world like a
cat at its toilet.
“Oh! ah! Blacklock!” he exclaimed, with purring cordiality--and I knew he
had heard of the big deposit I was making. “Come into my office on your way
out--nothing especial--only because it's always a pleasure to talk with
you.”
I saw that his effusive friendliness confirmed Tom Langdon's fear that I
had escaped from his brother's toils. He stared sullenly at the carpet
until he caught me looking at him with twinkling eyes. He made a valiant
effort to return my smile and succeeded in twisting his face into a knot
that seemed to hurt him as much as it amused me.
“Well, good-by, Tom,” said I. “Give my regards to your brother when he
lands, and tell him his going away was a mistake. A man can't afford to
trust his important business to understrappers.” This with a face free from
any suggestion of intending a shot at him. Then to Sam: “See you to-night,
old man,” and I went away, leaving Lewis looking from one to the other as
if he felt that there was dynamite about, but couldn't locate it. I stopped
with Melville to talk Coal for a few minutes--at my ease, and the last man
on earth to be suspected of hanging by the crook of one finger from the
edge of the precipice.
I rang the Ellerslys' bell at half-past nine that evening. The butler faced
me with eyes not down, as they should have been, but on mine, and full
of the servile insolence to which he had been prompted by what he had
overheard in the family.
“Not at home, sir,” he said, though I had not spoken.
I was preoccupied and not expecting that statement; neither had I skill,
nor desire to acquire skill, in reading family barometers in the faces of
servants. So, I was for brushing past him and entering where I felt I had
as much right as in my own places. He barred the way.
“Beg pardon, sir. Mrs. Ellersly instructed me to say no one was at home.”