MR. JORDAN HEARS A STORY.
The children were delighted with the news of their mother’s speedy
return. During her long absence all grievances had been forgotten,
and they only remembered that the absent mother, whom they loved, was
coming back to them.
All through the house was a flutter of excitement, which even the
servants were unable to escape. Mary Louise, like the sweet and dainty
house-fairy she was, wandered through her mother’s long deserted
rooms, putting everything in order with a discretion and taste that
was essentially womanly. And Annabel prepared vases of her mother’s
favorite flowers, whose fragrance would be sure to prove a tender
greeting to the returned traveller. Even little Gladys insisted on
helping “to get ready for mamma,” although her sisters would gladly
have dispensed with her assistance.
Annabel had another source of pleasure, for her father had said, rather
briefly but with an odd look in his eyes: “Will is coming back with
your mother, although it is sooner than I had expected him.”
She knew from the gravity of his voice that he did not wish to be asked
questions, so she only smiled happily at the news, and kissed him.
Over at the Carden cottage Mr. Jordan was having a restless night. He
returned from his evening walk as usual, but when he had locked himself
in his room he began pacing the floor restlessly, a thing which Mrs.
Carden, who could hear his footsteps plainly, did not remember that he
had ever done before.
Had anyone been able to peep within the room--which no one ever
could--he would have found the secretary’s thin face distorted by a
wrathful scowl. Indeed, Mr. Jordan was not at all pleased with the way
things were going at the mills. Mr. Williams’s evident repugnance
to him, which had been growing for some time, and his flat refusal
that day to confer with his secretary, had awakened in the man vague
misgivings for which he could not account. And then that discovery by
Mr. Williams of the English steel made by the Carden process was liable
to precipitate a crisis.
Mr. Jordan had known of this foreign steel for years, but had hoped
Mr. Williams would never discover it. There was an ominous atmosphere
surrounding him just now that warned the secretary that he must no
longer delay action--such action as he had planned for long ago.
He thought the matter over carefully, as he paced the floor, and
finally made his decision. But even after he went to bed he could not
sleep, and tossed restlessly upon his couch until morning came.
Then he arose and dressed with his usual care. His personal possessions
were not very great. The old horse-hair trunk contained little of
value, and as his eyes roved over the room he saw few things that he
really cared for.
In the end he put together a few toilet articles and some linen and
underwear, which he made into a package and wrapped with a newspaper.
Then, with a last look around, he left the house in his usual quiet
manner and walked up the road to the village.
The man had frequently consulted his watch, and timed his actions to
a nicety. He passed the village and reached the railway station just
as the early train to the city was due. But he did not go upon the
platform, where his presence might excite surprise, preferring to stand
behind the square, brick station-house until he heard the train draw
in. Even then he calculated his time. It would take so long to unload
passengers; so long for the people to enter the cars; so long to load
the baggage, and----
“All aboard!” cried the conductor.
Mr. Jordan smiled grimly and walked around the corner of the building.
Yes, he had just time to swing aboard as the train drew out.
But then a disagreeable accident happened. A commercial traveller,
dressed in a loud checked suit, dashed out of a door of the depot in
the direction of the train and ran plump against Mr. Jordan, almost
knocking that gentleman down and sending his newspaper bundle flying
several yards away. The blundering fellow actually tumbled down, and in
struggling to rise caught Mr. Jordan around the knees and held him so
fast that he could not move.
“Let go--release me!” shouted the secretary, angrily.
“I beg your pardon! I beg your pardon!” the other kept repeating,
humbly; but by the time he had scrambled up and released his victim
the train had pulled away, and now at constantly increasing speed was
flying along the tracks in the direction of the city.
“You scoundrel!” roared the exasperated gentleman, “you’ve made me lose
my train!”
“I beg your pardon! I _really_ beg your pardon, sir!” answered the
traveller, in a meek voice, as he stooped to pick up his sample cases.
“It was horribly awkward of me, I know; but I’ve missed the train,
myself. There’s another at noon, however, so I’ll go back to the hotel
and get some breakfast.”
Mr. Jordan glared at him without reply. Then he decided to make the
best of his misfortune and return to the hotel for breakfast himself.
He walked into the office a little earlier than usual, deposited his
newspaper bundle beside his desk, and went to work as methodically and
calmly as ever. The clerks noticed no change in him. He was as positive
in his orders as usual, and his manner gave no indication of the fact
that he had secretly planned to abandon his post.
At ten o’clock Dr. Meigs came in, and was shown at once into Mr.
Williams’s private office. A few minutes later a clerk said to the
secretary:
“Mr. Williams wishes to see you, sir.”
Mr. Jordan glanced at the clock, and then at his bundle, and hesitated.
But a moment’s thought served for him to decide how to act, and with a
sullen frown upon his brow he arose and entered the private office.
“Sit down,” said Mr. Williams, pointing to a chair that faced both his
own and the one in which the doctor was seated.
Mr. Jordan obeyed.
“I want to tell you a story,” said his employer, gravely; “and I wish
you to listen to it carefully and without interruption.”
The man flushed, but answered nothing.
“About eleven years ago,” began Mr. Williams, “two men lived in Bingham
who were friends. One was a clerk in a bank, the other was a steel
manufacturer who was experimenting to find a better way to make his
product. He did, indeed, discover a new and valuable process, but at a
time when his fortunes were at a low ebb, and all his resources, save a
few hundred dollars, had been exhausted. Being unable to form a company
in America to manufacture his steel under the new process he decided
to go to Birmingham, England, where he thought he would have a better
opportunity to interest capitalists. He divided his remaining money
into two parts, taking half with him and leaving the remainder with his
friend to be applied for the use of his wife and three children until
he could send for them to join him, or return himself to support them.
This man, whom he thought he could trust, promised faithfully to care
for his friend’s family as if they were his own.”
Mr. Jordan was now regarding the narrator with interest, but there was
an amused and slightly scornful smile upon his thin lips.
“The inventor--let us call him John Carden--sailed on a White Star
steamer to England,” resumed Mr. Williams; “but that fact was known
only to his friend, who did not advertise it. Instead, he watched the
newspapers, and when he saw that a sailing vessel, the _Pleiades_,
which left New York about the same time that Carden did, had foundered
at sea and gone down with all hands on board, he went to the wife of
his friend with well-assumed horror and told her that her husband had
been upon this sailing ship, and was now dead. He even showed a letter
in her husband’s handwriting, carefully forged, stating that he had
arranged to sail on the _Pleiades_ from motives of economy. And here
was a newspaper report of the vessel’s loss. A very pretty plot to
get rid of John Carden, and it succeeded perfectly. Not only was all
Bingham soon aware that Carden was lost at sea, but slanderous stories
were circulated that he had run away to escape his creditors, and also
that he owned his false friend, Ezra Jordan, ten thousand dollars,
which he had borrowed to carry on his experiments--a story which Mr.
Jordan himself confirmed with hypocritical sighs.”
“Sir, you are insulting!” cried Jordan, springing to his feet with a
livid face. “I will hear no more of this lying tale.”
“Sit down!” was the stern command. “You must hear it either from me or
in a court of justice--perhaps both, before we are done.”
Mr. Jordan sat down.
“I am not sure that you realize the full horror of this abominable
crime,” resumed Mr. Williams. “It transformed a bright and happy
woman--happy--despite their impending poverty--in her husband’s love,
into a brokenhearted, crushed and desolate widow, whose only incentive
to drag her weary way through life was the necessity of caring for her
fatherless little ones. It was worse than murder, sir, for it prolonged
for years the suffering of a human heart.”
For a moment he paused, and in the stillness that ensued the doctor
could be heard muttering dreadful words, as if to himself. Indeed, he
could not trust himself to look at Mr. Jordan, who sat as motionless as
if turned to stone.
“Before Carden went away,” continued Mr. Williams, suddenly arousing
himself and speaking in a sharp, clear tone, “he left in a sealed
envelope an exact description of his secret process for making steel,
and gave it into his friend’s keeping with instructions that it must
not be opened unless he met with sudden death. In that case Jordan was
to lease or sell the process for the benefit of Carden’s family.”
“It’s a lie,” said Jordan, sullenly. “He transferred the right to me.
You have seen the paper.”
“A mere forgery,” declared Mr. Williams. “Long before I came to
Bingham, to find the man who could make such wonderful steel, you
had opened the sealed envelope and prepared the forged transfer of
all rights to yourself. I was very fully deceived, at that time; and
although you exacted from me excessive royalties for the use of the
process, I made a contract with you in good faith and built this
establishment.”
“Well, you have made a fortune out of it,” retorted Jordan, savagely.
“Why are you now hounding _me_, who gave you the opportunity to make
millions?”
“Because you are an unprincipled scoundrel, sir! Because you have never
been entitled to one dollar of the money I have paid you. The money
belonged to the family of John Carden, or to John Carden himself.”
“The Carden family has not suffered,” answered the man, moving uneasily
in his seat. “I’ve boarded with them, and always helped support them.”
The doctor uttered an exclamation that was like a roar, and clinching
his fists half started to rise from his chair. But Mr. Williams
restrained him with a look, and motioned him to have patience.
“Let us continue the story,” he said, “for its appalling details are
not half told. With John Carden well out of the way it was necessary
he should not return to life to confound his destroyer. This required
all of Jordan’s ingenuity. For Carden not only wrote to him, when he
had arrived in England, but he also wrote to his wife, and Jordan had
to watch the mails carefully in order to intercept these letters. If
one had reached Mrs. Carden the conspiracy would have been foiled. It
was a bold game, and I marvel even now that it succeeded. Carden found
friends in Birmingham almost at once, who saw the value of his process
and were eager to promote the manufacture of the new steel. The Atlas
Steel Company was formed, with Carden a large stock-holder, and soon
he had sufficient means to send for his wife and family. I am almost
sure that Jordan forged letters from Mrs. Carden to her husband about
that time, purporting to be answers to those she received, for in no
other way could his suspicions have been lulled. But the proofs of this
are missing. I know, however, that when Carden forwarded to Jordan the
money to enable his family to proceed to England, that Jordan kept the
money for his own uses, making various excuses to his friend to account
for the delay of the family in starting.
“His object in this was to work upon the husband the same horrible plot
that had succeeded in ruining the life of the wife. He was watching the
newspapers again.”
Jordan listened with his bald head thrust eagerly forward. His face was
white and terrified.
“After several months the opportunity came, for the devil seems to
favor his servants at times. The Italian steamer _Victor Chalfante_
went down in mid-ocean, in a terrible storm, and Jordan, on receipt of
the news, cabled John Carden that his family was on board.
“We may well imagine the agony of the unhappy husband and father when
he learned that his wife and children had been so suddenly swept
into eternity. Indeed, he wrote one pitiful letter to his old friend
that would surely bring tears to the eyes of any honest man. It is
here,” touching a bundle of papers with a gesture almost tender. “But
Jordan--Jordan the fiend, the worse than murderer--only chuckled
gleefully at the success of his plot. John Carden would never return to
America now, and Mrs. Carden would never be able to tell her husband
of the new steel mills that had been started in Bingham. Jordan was
triumphant, and began to accumulate the fortune which he had so
cleverly arranged to steal from his friend.
“He made two mistakes, however. One was that he forget that there is
an Almighty God watching over us all. The other was that he foolishly
intrusted all the incriminating papers in his conspiracy to a hollow in
an oak tree.”
“It’s false!” shouted Jordan, now fully beside himself and rising to
shake an impotent and trembling fist in Mr. Williams’s face. “It’s
false, and I can prove it. John Carden is dead, and the money is all
mine! John Carden is dead, and----”
“John Carden is alive!” cried a clear voice, as the door burst open to
admit the speaker. And then John Carden himself strode into the room,
followed by his son Will.
“Hurrah!” shouted the doctor, and springing to his feet he dashed at
his old friend and actually embraced him in the exuberance of his joy.
Chester D. Williams had never seen John Carden before; but the men
were not strangers, for all that, since Will had told his father all
the details of the great manufacturer’s history, and never wearied
singing his praises. So in a moment the two men had clasped hands, the
beginning of a friendship long to continue.
Jordan, shrinking back against the wall in abject terror at this
denouement, made a stealthy effort to escape through the open door, but
was halted by the burly form of the commercial traveller in the checked
suit, who suddenly occupied the doorway.
“Beg pardon, sir, but there’s no hurry,” said the fellow, with a grin.
“Better stay and see the fun. It’s going to be hot in a minute.”
Then he retreated and closed the door behind him, and Jordan turned to
confront the blazing eyes and sternly set features of the man he had so
bitterly wronged.