In the transaction with Mellin, there was one thing that cut Elijah more
deeply than all others. Mellin had insisted that the mortgage be
registered. He was too shrewd to let this pass by. He had a hold upon
Elijah and he had no intention of loosening it without a consideration.
The registration was a public recognition of the fact that Elijah had
dealings with Mellin and on a large scale. There was no use in
requesting that the transaction be kept in obscurity. The object of
registration was publicity, and publicity was not confined to those
concerned in knowing; the books were open to inspection by the busiest
gossip as well as by the most earnest business man.
For the first time in his life, Elijah was learning the bitter lesson,
that even divine guidance does not release the guided from
responsibility for his actions. There was bitterness in his heart, the
feeling that he had been betrayed.
Ysleta lived on sensations, and it was a dainty morsel, when the news of
Elijah's connection with Mellin became known. Yet it had no malice
toward Elijah, it simply welcomed him as one of themselves and this was
what cut. He could no longer conceal from himself that he had fallen.
The news of course reached Uncle Sid and Winston. Winston was shocked,
yet after the first effects had passed away, he recognized the fact,
that after all, he was not surprised. Absorbed in his field duties, he
had put from him for the time his feeling that Elijah was not wholly to
be trusted, that for all his vaunted beliefs, he yet lacked the subtle
sense of honor that would keep him true to himself and to his fellows.
Winston did not know, nor did Uncle Sid, of the darker stain that was on
Elijah's soul.
"Perhaps it ain't as bad as it looks," the old seaman remarked when he
had broken the news to Winston.
"Perhaps not," Winston replied, "but I have been in pretty close touch
with Elijah since he has been in California, and I know he's sailed
close to the wind, mighty close," he added decisively.
Uncle Sid looked thoughtful.
"Where'd he get money to start with?"
Winston waited a long time before replying. He was turning over in his
mind the best thing to be done. He felt that he could trust the old man.
"You remember the Pacific failure?"
"I reckon I do, young man. I have cause to. I lost fifteen dollars and
sixty-five cents in that failure."
Winston smiled at Uncle Sid's earnestness.
"The Las Cruces lost more than that. An even fifty thousand. At least
our books show that."
Uncle Sid started. He looked at Winston with wide-open eyes, every line
of his wrinkled face drawn tense.
"I declare, Ralph, if I ever thought the Lord would lead 'Lige quite so
far as that!"
"I guess, Uncle Sid, that you and I think alike about the Almighty's
share in this transaction. If this isn't the devil's work, I don't know
the gentleman."
Uncle Sid made no immediate reply. A little later they entered the Las
Cruces office. Helen looked up as the door opened. A frank cordial smile
illumined her face as she recognized her callers.
"Hello, Ralph! It's about time you came in. If you'd waited much longer,
I'd have asked for a letter of introduction." She turned to Uncle Sid
with the same cordial smile. "Well Captain, I see you aren't dry-docked
yet."
"No. My seams ain't started yet. What water there is in these parts is
just as wet as any."
"Oh we've got plenty of water here and we're going to have more."
"Yes, I guess you have, such as 'tis. Good enough for old-fashioned
sailin' craft. But when folks ain't satisfied with goin' as fast as
God's wind blows 'em, an' they put in engines an' boilers, the dum
water's liable to eat holes in their boilers an' blow 'em up." He looked
around the room curiously. "There's a power o' steam escapin' around
here. Where's 'Lige? Look's as if 'Lige had got a hole eat in his
boilers, an' me an' Ralph's come in to see if we can help patch 'em up."
Helen noted the keen, old eyes and the humorous wrinkles that for all
their humor were yet hard.
"He hasn't been in this morning; I expect him every moment."
Uncle Sid turned to Winston.
"It's your watch, Ralph. You take the wheel."
Winston felt reassured to a certain extent, by Helen's perfectly natural
manner. There were the same frank eyes, the same friendly smile that he
knew so well. Did she know all that they wished to know or was she as
ignorant as they of all but public gossip? He was going to find out.
"I suppose you know, Helen," he began soberly, "that there are some
pretty ugly rumors about Elijah flying around Ysleta?"
"Yes, I do know." Helen's face grew hard.
"How much truth is there in them?"
Helen met Winston's piercing look squarely.
"I don't know any more than you know." There was no apparent hesitation
in her manner, but her thoughts were busy anticipating what was to come.
Ralph made an impatient gesture.
"We can talk till doomsday, Helen, and you can answer and tell us
nothing, if you choose. You know we are not gossips, and you know that
we are Elijah's friends."
"Why didn't you say that to start with?" Helen flashed back. "You began
asking me questions and I answered your questions truthfully."
Uncle Sid noted the strained situation.
"She's laid you broadside on there, Ralph; that gun is out o' action.
You'll have to limber up another battery."
Winston and Helen both turned to Uncle Sid; then, smiling, their eyes
met and the threatened storm passed by.
"Just what is it, Ralph?"
"We want to know the whole business, Helen, so far as you know."
Uncle Sid again broke in.
"When a bell rattles, we want to know whether its cracked, or whether
there's just something on it that can be got off."
"I don't think Elijah's cracked, Uncle Sid." She grew very sober as she
turned once more to Winston.
"The rumor that Mellin holds Elijah's note for one hundred thousand
dollars, that the note is secured by a mortgage on the Palm Wells tract,
is true. These facts are recorded. I have seen the records. Further than
that, I know nothing."
"Ur-r-rh!" grunted Uncle Sid, whose thoughts suddenly reverted to Eunice
MacGregor. "I guess I know the tree to smoke that coon out of."
Helen shot an intelligent glance at Uncle Sid, her lips parted, then she
thought better of her impulse and remained silent.
Winston again turned to Helen.
"I shall have to ask you another direct question, Helen. Did the company
get their deposit from the Pacific?"
Helen looked squarely at Winston.
"I don't know."
"Perhaps you don't _know_, Helen, but you are in a better position to
guess than we are. There's no use playing with words. That Palm Wells
business called for ready money. I know as well as you do that Elijah
had no such amount. The question is, where did he get it?"
"If I knew absolutely, I would tell you. I will tell you what I do know,
but I shall have to ask you to keep it to yourselves for a little." Then
she told of Elijah's discovery of the frostless belt; how, half in jest,
half in earnest, she had told him that she might avail herself of her
knowledge; of Elijah's alarm; of their agreement to acquire the tract
together.
"We have," she concluded, "got the Pico ranch in our hands. My five
thousand is in it. There was fifty-five thousand paid down. Elijah did
not tell me where he got the money, but I supposed at the time that he
had pledged a part of his holdings in the Las Cruces to raise it."
Uncle Sid looked up. There was sternness but yet kindness in the keen
eyes that held Helen's.
"Don't you think you ought to know, Helen?"
Helen's face grew suddenly drawn and white.
"I have told you all that I ought to tell you, perhaps more than was
right. I went into this business of my own free will and there have come
complications that I did not foresee, but I am not justified in trying
to free myself at the expense of another. I am telling you the truth so
far as I know it. It isn't for me to make inferences."
The interview, so far as its object was concerned, was ended. Uncle Sid
rose stiffly and took the girl's hand in his own.
"I'm afraid that you've made mistakes, lassie, but so have the rest of
us. You've got stuff in you worth savin', an' we're goin' to stand by
you."
Winston also rose. As Helen placed her hand in his, he said:
"Uncle Sid has spoken for me too, Helen." He held her hand for a moment
only, but there was, in the clasp of it, that which went straight to her
heart. She did not dare to look in his eyes. She had told him the truth
as she knew it, but not as she suspected it. How much more could she
have known if she would; how much more ought she to have known? She had
not until now, seen clearly where her course was bound to lead if
followed to the end. Had she wilfully declined to see? She was going
over her past, analyzing it clearly, logically, unsparing of herself.
Even yet she could not understand the subtle influence with which Elijah
had surrounded her, but at last her eyes were open to its danger. She
had given admiration, sympathy, her best to help him, her warm but
disquieting friendship. Here she stopped abruptly, her eyes wide open,
her face scarlet, her heart throbbing in an agony of pain and shame. The
parting pressure of Ralph's hand came to her, the eager look of sympathy
which she had felt but not seen. She longed to hear his voice again, to
feel the touch of his hand in her own. Slowly she raised her head. Her
face was pale and set. Her sins were upon her; the sins of innocence,
but the burden was none the lighter for that; yet she would bear it
alone and in silence.