It was nearly seven o'clock when Shirley got back to Seventy-fourth
Street. No one saw her come in, and she went direct to her room, and
after a hasty dinner, worked until late into the night on her book to
make up for lost time. The events of the afternoon caused her
considerable uneasiness. She reproached herself for her weakness and
for having yielded so readily to the impulse of the moment. She had
said only what was the truth when she admitted she loved Jefferson, but
what right had she to dispose of her future while her father's fate was
still uncertain? Her conscience troubled her, and when she came to
reason it out calmly, the more impossible seemed their union from every
point of view. How could she become the daughter-in-law of the man who
had ruined her own father? The idea was preposterous, and hard as the
sacrifice would be, Jefferson must be made to see it in that light.
Their engagement was the greatest folly; it bound each of them when
nothing but unhappiness could possibly come of it. She was sure now
that she loved Jefferson. It would be hard to give him up, but there
are times and circumstances when duty and principle must prevail over
all other considerations, and this she felt was one of them.
The following morning she received a letter from Stott. He was
delighted to hear the good news regarding her important discovery, and
he urged her to lose no time in securing the letters and forwarding
them to Massapequa, when he would immediately go to Washington and lay
them before the Senate. Documentary evidence of that conclusive nature,
he went on to say, would prove of the very highest value in clearing
her father's name. He added that the judge and her mother were as well
as circumstances would permit, and that they were not in the least
worried about her protracted absence. Her Aunt Milly had already
returned to Europe, and Eudoxia was still threatening to leave daily.
Shirley needed no urging. She quite realized the importance of acting
quickly, but it was not easy to get at the letters. The library was
usually kept locked when the great man was away, and on the few
occasions when access to it was possible, the lynx-eyed Mr. Bagley was
always on guard. Short as had been her stay in the Ryder household,
Shirley already shared Jefferson's antipathy to the English secretary,
whose manner grew more supercilious and overbearing as he drew nearer
the date when he expected to run off with one of the richest catches of
the season. He had not sought the acquaintance of his employer's
biographer since her arrival, and, with the exception of a rude stare,
had not deigned to notice her, which attitude of haughty indifference
was all the more remarkable in view of the fact that the Hon. Fitzroy
usually left nothing unturned to cultivate a flirtatious intimacy with
every attractive female he met. The truth was that what with Mr.
Ryder's demands upon his services and his own preparations for his
coming matrimonial venture, in which he had so much at stake, he had
neither time nor inclination to indulge his customary amorous
diversions.
Miss Roberts had called at the house several times, ostensibly to see
Mrs. Ryder, and when introduced to Shirley she had condescended to give
the latter a supercilious nod. Her conversation was generally of the
silly, vacuous sort, concerning chiefly new dresses or bonnets, and
Shirley at once read her character--frivolous, amusement-loving,
empty-headed, irresponsible--just the kind of girl to do something
foolish without weighing the consequences. After chatting a few moments
with Mrs. Ryder she would usually vanish, and one day, after one of
these mysterious disappearances, Shirley happened to pass the library
and caught sight of her and Mr. Bagley conversing in subdued and eager
tones. It was very evident that the elopement scheme was fast maturing.
If the scandal was to be prevented, Jefferson ought to see his father
and acquaint him with the facts without delay. It was probable that at
the same time he would make an effort to secure the letters. Meantime
she must be patient. Too much hurry might spoil everything.
So the days passed, Shirley devoting almost all her time to the history
she had undertaken. She saw nothing of Ryder, Sr., but a good deal of
his wife, to whom she soon became much attached. She found her an
amiable, good-natured woman, entirely free from that offensive
arrogance and patronizing condescension which usually marks the
parvenue as distinct from the thoroughbred. Mrs. Ryder had no claims to
distinguished lineage; on the contrary, she was the daughter of a
country grocer when the then rising oil man married her, and of
educational advantages she had had little or none. It was purely by
accident that she was the wife of the richest man in the world, and
while she enjoyed the prestige her husband's prominence gave her, she
never allowed it to turn her head. She gave away large sums for
charitable purposes and, strange to say, when the gift came direct from
her, the money was never returned on the plea that it was "tainted."
She shared her husband's dislike for entertaining, and led practically
the life of a recluse. The advent of Shirley, therefore, into her quiet
and uneventful existence was as welcome as sunshine when it breaks
through the clouds after days of gloom. Quite a friendship sprang up
between the two women, and when tired of writing, Shirley would go into
Mrs. Ryder's room and chat until the financier's wife began to look
forward to these little impromptu visits, so much she enjoyed them.
Nothing more had been said concerning Jefferson and Miss Roberts. The
young man had not yet seen his father, but his mother knew he was only
waiting an opportunity to demand an explanation of the engagement
announcements. Her husband, on the other hand, desired the match more
than ever, owing to the continued importunities of Senator Roberts. As
usual, Mrs. Ryder confided these little domestic troubles to Shirley.
"Jefferson," she said, "is very angry. He is determined not to marry
the girl, and when he and his father do meet there'll be another scene."
"What objection has your son to Miss Roberts?" inquired Shirley
innocently.
"Oh, the usual reason," sighed the mother, "and I've no doubt he knows
best. He's in love with another girl--a Miss Rossmore."
"Oh, yes," answered Shirley simply. "Mr. Ryder spoke of her."
Mrs. Ryder was silent, and presently she left the girl alone with her
work.
The next afternoon Shirley was in her room busy writing when there came
a tap at her door. Thinking it was another visit from Mrs. Ryder, she
did not look up, but cried out pleasantly:
"Come in."
John Ryder entered. He smiled cordially and, as if apologizing for the
intrusion, said amiably:
"I thought I'd run up to see how you were getting along."
His coming was so unexpected that for a moment Shirley was startled,
but she quickly regained her composure and asked him to take a seat. He
seemed pleased to find her making such good progress, and he stopped to
answer a number of questions she put to him. Shirley tried to be
cordial, but when she looked well at him and noted the keen, hawk-like
eyes, the cruel, vindictive lines about the mouth, the square-set,
relentless jaw--Wall Street had gone wrong with the Colossus that day
and he was still wearing his war paint--she recalled the wrong this man
had done her father and she felt how bitterly she hated him. The more
her mind dwelt upon it, the more exasperated she was to think she
should be there, a guest, under his roof, and it was only with the
greatest difficulty that she remained civil.
"What is the moral of your life?" she demanded bluntly.
He was quick to note the contemptuous tone in her voice, and he gave
her a keen, searching look as if he were trying to read her thoughts
and fathom the reason for her very evident hostility towards him.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"I mean, what can you show as your life work? Most men whose lives are
big enough to call for biographies have done something useful--they
have been famous statesmen, eminent scientists, celebrated authors,
great inventors. What have you done?"
The question appeared to stagger him. The audacity of any one putting
such a question to a man in his own house was incredible. He squared
his jaws and his clenched fist descended heavily on the table.
"What have I done?" he cried. "I have built up the greatest fortune
ever accumulated by one man. My fabulous wealth has caused my name to
spread to the four corners of the earth. Is that not an achievement to
relate to future generations?"
Shirley gave a little shrug of her shoulders.
"Future generations will take no interest in you or your millions," she
said calmly. "Our civilization will have made such progress by that
time that people will merely wonder why we, in our day, tolerated men
of your class so long. Now it is different. The world is money-mad. You
are a person of importance in the eyes of the unthinking multitude, but
it only envies you your fortune; it does not admire you personally.
When you die people will count your millions, not your good deeds."
He laughed cynically and drew up a chair near her desk. As a general
thing, John Ryder never wasted words on women. He had but a poor
opinion of their mentality, and considered it beneath the dignity of
any man to enter into serious argument with a woman. In fact, it was
seldom he condescended to argue with anyone. He gave orders and talked
to people; he had no patience to be talked to. Yet he found himself
listening with interest to this young woman who expressed herself so
frankly. It was a decided novelty for him to hear the truth.
"What do I care what the world says when I'm dead?" he asked with a
forced laugh.
"You do care," replied Shirley gravely. "You may school yourself to
believe that you are indifferent to the good opinion of your fellow
man, but right down in your heart you do care--every man does, whether
he be multi-millionaire or a sneak thief."
"You class the two together, I notice," he said bitterly.
"It is often a distinction without a difference," she rejoined promptly.
He remained silent for a moment or two toying nervously with a paper
knife. Then, arrogantly, and as if anxious to impress her with his
importance, he said:
"Most men would be satisfied if they had accomplished what I have. Do
you realize that my wealth is so vast that I scarcely know myself what
I am worth? What my fortune will be in another fifty years staggers the
imagination. Yet I started with nothing. I made it all myself. Surely I
should get credit for that."
"How did you make it?" retorted Shirley.
"In America we don't ask how a man makes his money; we ask if he has
got any."
"You are mistaken," replied Shirley earnestly. "America is waking up.
The conscience of the nation is being aroused. We are coming to realize
that the scandals of the last few years were only the fruit of public
indifference to sharp business practice. The people will soon ask the
dishonest rich man where he got it, and there will have to be an
accounting. What account will you be able to give?"
He bit his lip and looked at her for a moment without replying. Then,
with a faint suspicion of a sneer, he said:
"You are a socialist--perhaps an anarchist!"
"Only the ignorant commit the blunder of confounding the two," she
retorted. "Anarchy is a disease; socialism is a science."
"Indeed!" he exclaimed mockingly, "I thought the terms were synonymous.
The world regards them both as insane."
Herself an enthusiastic convert to the new political faith that was
rising like a flood tide all over the world, the contemptuous tone in
which this plutocrat spoke of the coming reorganization of society
which was destined to destroy him and his kind spurred her on to
renewed argument.
"I imagine," she said sarcastically, "that you would hardly approve any
social reform which threatened to interfere with your own business
methods. But no matter how you disapprove of socialism on general
principles, as a leader of the capitalist class you should understand
what socialism is, and not confuse one of the most important movements
in modern world-history with the crazy theories of irresponsible
cranks. The anarchists are the natural enemies of the entire human
family, and would destroy it were their dangerous doctrines permitted
to prevail; the socialists, on the contrary, are seeking to save
mankind from the degradation, the crime and the folly into which such
men as you have driven it."
She spoke impetuously, with the inspired exaltation of a prophet
delivering a message to the people. Ryder listened, concealing his
impatience with uneasy little coughs.
"Yes," she went on, "I am a socialist and I am proud of it. The whole
world is slowly drifting toward socialism as the only remedy for the
actual intolerable conditions. It may not come in our time, but it will
come as surely as the sun will rise and set tomorrow. Has not the flag
of socialism waved recently from the White House? Has not a President
of the United States declared that the State must eventually curb the
great fortunes? What is that but socialism?"
"True," retorted Ryder grimly, "and that little speech intended for the
benefit of the gallery will cost him the nomination at the next
Presidential election. We don't want in the White House a President who
stirs up class hatred. Our rich men have a right to what is their own;
that is guaranteed them by the Constitution."
"Is it their own?" interrupted Shirley.
Ryder ignored the insinuation and proceeded:
"What of our boasted free institutions if a man is to be restricted in
what he may and may not do? If I am clever enough to accumulate
millions who can stop me?"
"The people will stop you," said Shirley calmly. "It is only a question
of time. Their patience is about exhausted. Put your ear to the ground
and listen to the distant rumbling of the tempest which, sooner or
later, will be unchained in this land, provoked by the iniquitous
practices of organized capital. The people have had enough of the
extortions of the Trusts. One day they will rise in their wrath and
seize by the throat this knavish plutocracy which, confident in the
power of its wealth to procure legal immunity and reckless of its
danger, persists in robbing the public daily. But retribution is at
hand. The growing discontent of the proletariat, the ever-increasing
strikes and labour disputes of all kinds, the clamour against the
Railroads and the Trusts, the evidence of collusion between both--all
this is the writing on the wall. The capitalistic system is doomed;
socialism will succeed it."
"What is socialism?" he demanded scornfully. "What will it give the
public that it has not got already?"
Shirley, who never neglected an opportunity to make a convert, no
matter how hardened he might be, picked up a little pamphlet printed
for propaganda purposes which she had that morning received by mail.
"Here," she said, "is one of the best and clearest definitions of
socialism I have ever read:
"Socialism is common ownership of natural resources and public
utilities, and the common operation of all industries for the general
good. Socialism is opposed to monopoly, that is, to private ownership
of land and the instruments of labor, which is indirect ownership of
men; to the wages system, by which labor is legally robbed of a large
part of the product of labor; to competition with its enormous waste of
effort and its opportunities for the spoliation of the weak by the
strong. Socialism is industrial democracy. It is the government of the
people by the people and for the people, not in the present restricted
sense, but as regards all the common interests of men. Socialism is
opposed to oligarchy and monarchy, and therefore to the tyrannies of
business cliques and money kings. Socialism is for freedom, not only
from the fear of force, but from the fear of want. Socialism proposes
real liberty, not merely the right to vote, but the liberty to live for
something more than meat and drink.
"Socialism is righteousness in the relations of men. It is based on the
fundamentals of religion, the Fatherhood of God and the Brotherhood of
men. It seeks through association and equality to realize fraternity.
Socialism will destroy the motives which make for cheap manufacturers,
poor workmanship and adulterations; it will secure the real utility of
things. Use, not exchange, will be the object of labour. Things will be
made to serve, not to sell. Socialism will banish war, for private
ownership is back of strife between men. Socialism will purify
politics, for private capitalism is the great source of political
corruption. Socialism will make for education, invention and discovery;
it will stimulate the moral development of men. Crime will have lost
most of its motive and pauperism will have no excuse. That," said
Shirley, as she concluded, "is socialism!"
Ryder shrugged his shoulders and rose to go.
"Delightful," he said ironically, "but in my judgment wholly Utopian
and impracticable. It's nothing but a gigantic pipe dream. It won't
come in this generation nor in ten generations if, indeed, it is ever
taken seriously by a majority big enough to put its theories to the
test. Socialism does not take into account two great factors that move
the world--men's passions and human ambition. If you eliminate ambition
you remove the strongest incentive to individual effort. From your own
account a socialistic world would be a dreadfully tame place to live
in--everybody depressingly good, without any of the feverish turmoil of
life as we know it. Such a world would not appeal to me at all. I love
the fray--the daily battle of gain and loss, the excitement of making
or losing millions. That is my life!"
"Yet what good is your money to you?" insisted Shirley. "You are able
to spend only an infinitesimal part of it. You cannot even give it
away, for nobody will have any of it."
"Money!" he hissed rather than spoke, "I hate money. It means nothing
to me. I have so much that I have lost all idea of its value. I go on
accumulating it for only one purpose. It buys power. I love power--that
is my passion, my ambition, to rule the world with my gold. Do you
know," he went on and leaning over the desk in a dramatic attitude,
"that if I chose I could start a panic in Wall Street to-morrow that
would shake to their foundations every financial institution in the
country? Do you know that I practically control the Congress of the
United States and that no legislative measure becomes law unless it has
my approval?"
"The public has long suspected as much," replied Shirley. "That is why
you are looked upon as a menace to the stability and honesty of our
political and commercial life."
An angry answer rose to his lips when the door opened and Mrs. Ryder
entered.
"I've been looking for you, John," she said peevishly. "Mr. Bagley told
me you were somewhere in the house. Senator Roberts is downstairs."
"He's come about Jefferson and his daughter, I suppose," muttered
Ryder. "Well, I'll see him. Where is he?"
"In the library. Kate came with him. She's in my room."
They left Shirley to her writing, and when he had closed the door the
financier turned to his wife and said impatiently:
"Now, what are we going to do about Jefferson and Kate? The senator
insists on the matter of their marriage being settled one way or
another. Where is Jefferson?"
"He came in about half an hour ago. He was upstairs to see me, and I
thought he was looking for you," answered the wife.
"Well," replied Ryder determinedly, "he and I have got to understand
each other. This can't go on. It shan't."
Mrs. Ryder put her hand on his arm, and said pleadingly:
"Don't be impatient with the boy, John. Remember he is all we have. He
is so unhappy. He wants to please us, but--"
"But he insists on pleasing himself," said Ryder completing the
sentence.
"I'm afraid, John, that his liking for that Miss Rossmore is more
serious than you realize--"
The financier stamped his foot and replied angrily:
"Miss Rossmore! That name seems to confront me at every turn--for years
the father, now the daughter! I'm sorry, my dear," he went on more
calmly, "that you seem inclined to listen to Jefferson. It only
encourages him in his attitude towards me. Kate would make him an
excellent wife, while what do we know about the other woman? Are you
willing to sacrifice your son's future to a mere boyish whim?"
Mrs. Ryder sighed.
"It's very hard," she said, "for a mother to know what to advise. Miss
Green says--"
"What!" exclaimed her husband, "you have consulted Miss Green on the
subject?"
"Yes," answered his wife, "I don't know how I came to tell her, but I
did. I seem to tell her everything. I find her such a comfort, John. I
haven't had an attack of nerves since that girl has been in the house."
"She is certainly a superior woman," admitted Ryder. "I wish she'd ward
that Rossmore girl off. I wish she--" He stopped abruptly as if not
venturing to give expression to his thoughts, even to his wife. Then he
said: "If she were Kate Roberts she wouldn't let Jeff slip through her
fingers."
"I have often wished," went on Mrs. Ryder, "that Kate were more like
Shirley Green. I don't think we would have any difficulty with Jeff
then."
"Kate is the daughter of Senator Roberts, and if this marriage is
broken off in any way without the senator's consent, he is in a
position to injure my interests materially. If you see Jefferson send
him to me in the library. I'll go and keep Roberts in good humour until
he comes."
He went downstairs and Mrs. Ryder proceeded to her apartments, where
she found Jefferson chatting with Kate. She at once delivered Ryder
Sr.'s message.
"Jeff, your father wants to see you in the library."
"Yes, I want to see him," answered the young man grimly, and after a
few moments more badinage with Kate he left the room.
It was not a mere coincidence that had brought Senator Roberts and his
daughter and the financier's son all together under the Ryder roof at
the same time. It was part of Jefferson's well-prepared plan to expose
the rascality of his father's secretary, and at the same time rid
himself of the embarrassing entanglement with Kate Roberts. If the
senator were confronted publicly with the fact that his daughter, while
keeping up the fiction of being engaged to Ryder Jr., was really
preparing to run off with the Hon. Fitzroy Bagley, he would have no
alternative but to retire gracefully under fire and relinquish all idea
of a marriage alliance with the house of Ryder. The critical moment had
arrived. To-morrow, Wednesday, was the day fixed for the elopement. The
secretary's little game had gone far enough. The time had come for
action. So Jefferson had written to Senator Roberts, who was in
Washington, asking him if it would be convenient for him to come at
once to New York and meet himself and his father on a matter of
importance. The senator naturally jumped to the conclusion that
Jefferson and Ryder had reached an amicable understanding, and he
immediately hurried to New York and with his daughter came round to
Seventy-fourth Street.
When Ryder Sr. entered the library, Senator Roberts was striding
nervously up and down the room. This, he felt, was an important day.
The ambition of his life seemed on the point of being attained.
"Hello, Roberts," was Ryder's cheerful greeting. "What's brought you
from Washington at a critical time like this? The Rossmore impeachment
needs every friend we have."
"Just as if you didn't know," smiled the senator uneasily, "that I am
here by appointment to meet you and your son!"
"To meet me and my son?" echoed Ryder astonished.
The senator, perplexed and beginning to feel real alarm, showed the
financier Jefferson's letter. Ryder read it and he looked pleased.
"That's all right," he said, "if the lad asked you to meet us here it
can mean only one thing--that at last he has made up his mind to this
marriage."
"That's what I thought," replied the senator, breathing more freely. "I
was sorry to leave Washington at such a time, but I'm a father, and
Kate is more to me than the Rossmore impeachment. Besides, to see her
married to your son Jefferson is one of the dearest wishes of my life."
"You can rest easy," said Ryder; "that is practically settled.
Jefferson's sending for you proves that he is now ready to meet my
wishes. He'll be here any minute. How is the Rossmore case progressing?"
"Not so well as it might," growled the senator. "There's a lot of
maudlin sympathy for the judge. He's a pretty sick man by all accounts,
and the newspapers seem to be taking his part. One or two of the
Western senators are talking Corporate influence and Trust legislation,
but when it comes to a vote the matter will be settled on party lines."
"That means that Judge Rossmore will be removed?" demanded Ryder
sternly.
"Yes, with five votes to spare," answered the senator.
"That's not enough," insisted Ryder. "There must be at least twenty.
Let there be no blunders, Roberts. The man is a menace to all the big
commercial interests. This thing must go through."
The door opened and Jefferson appeared. On seeing the senator talking
with his father, he hesitated on the threshold.
"Come in, Jeff," said his father pleasantly. "You expected to see
Senator Roberts, didn't you?"
"Yes, sir. How do you do, Senator?" said the young man, advancing into
the room.
"I got your letter, my boy, and here I am," said the senator smiling
affably. "I suppose we can guess what the business is, eh?"
"That he's going to marry Kate, of course," chimed in Ryder Sr. "Jeff,
my lad, I'm glad you are beginning to see my way of looking at things.
You're doing more to please me lately, and I appreciate it. You stayed
at home when I asked you to, and now you've made up your mind regarding
this marriage."
Jefferson let his father finish his speech, and then he said calmly:
"I think there must be some misapprehension as to the reason for my
summoning Senator Roberts to New York. It had nothing to do with my
marrying Miss Roberts, but to prevent her marriage with someone else."
"What!" exclaimed Ryder, Sr.
"Marriage with someone else?" echoed the senator. He thought he had not
heard aright, yet at the same time he had grave misgivings. "What do
you mean, sir?"
Taking from his pocket a copy of the letter he had picked up on the
staircase, Jefferson held it out to the girl's father.
"Your daughter is preparing to run away with my father's secretary.
To-morrow would have been too late. That is why I summoned you. Read
this."
The senator took the letter, and as he read his face grew ashen and his
hand trembled violently. At one blow all his ambitious projects for his
daughter had been swept away. The inconsiderate act of a silly,
thoughtless girl had spoiled the carefully laid plans of a lifetime.
The only consolation which remained was that the calamity might have
been still more serious. This timely warning had saved his family from
perhaps an even greater scandal. He passed the letter in silence to
Ryder, Sr.
The financier was a man of few words when the situation called for
prompt action. After he had read the letter through, there was an
ominous silence. Then he rang a bell. The butler appeared.
"Tell Mr. Bagley I want him."
The man bowed and disappeared.
"Who the devil is this Bagley?" demanded the senater.
"English--blue blood--no money," was Ryder's laconic answer.
"That's the only kind we seem to get over here," growled the senator.
"We furnish the money--they furnish the blood--damn his blue blood! I
don't want any in mine." Turning to Jefferson, he said: "Jefferson,
whatever the motives that actuated you, I can only thank you for this
warning. I think it would have broken my heart if my girl had gone away
with that scoundrel. Of course, under the circumstances, I must abandon
all idea of your becoming my son-in-law. I release you from all
obligations you may have felt yourself bound by."
Jefferson bowed and remained silent.
Ryder, Sr. eyed his son closely, an amused expression hovering on his
face. After all, it was not so much he who had desired this match as
Roberts, and as long as the senator was willing to withdraw, he could
make no objection. He wondered what part, if any, his son had played in
bringing about this sensational denouement to a match which had been so
distasteful to him, and it gratified his paternal vanity to think that
Jefferson after all might be smarter than he had given him credit for.
At this juncture Mr. Bagley entered the room. He was a little taken
aback on seeing the senator, but like most men of his class, his
self-conceit made him confident of his ability to handle any emergency
which might arise, and he had no reason to suspect that this hasty
summons to the library had anything to do with his matrimonial plans.
"Did you ask for me, sir? he demanded, addressing his employer.
"Yes, Mr. Bagley," replied Ryder, fixing the secretary with a look that
filled the latter with misgivings. "What steamers leave to-morrow for
England?"
"To-morrow?" echoed Mr. Bagley.
"I said to-morrow," repeated Ryder, slightly raising his voice.
"Let me see," stammered the secretary, "there is the White Star, the
North German Lloyd, the Atlantic Transport--" "Have you any
preference?" inquired the financier.
"No, sir, none at all."
"Then you'll go on board one of the ships to-night," said Ryder. "Your
things will be packed and sent to you before the steamer sails
to-morrow."
The Hon. Fitzroy Bagley, third son of a British peer, did not
understand even yet that he was discharged as one dismisses a housemaid
caught kissing the policeman. He could not think what Mr. Ryder wanted
him to go abroad for unless it were on some matter of business, and it
was decidedly inconvenient for him to sail at this time.
"But, sir," he stammered. "I'm afraid--I'm afraid----"
"Yes," rejoined Ryder promptly, "I notice that--your hand is shaking."
"I mean that I----"
"You mean that you have other engagements!" said Ryder sternly.
"Oh no--no but----"
"No engagement at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning?" insisted Ryder.
"With my daughter?" chimed in the senator.
Mr. Bagley now understood. He broke out in a cold perspiration and he
paled visibly. In the hope that the full extent of his plans were not
known, he attempted to brazen it out.
"No, certainly not, under no circumstances," he said.
Ryder, Sr. rang a bell.
"Perhaps she has an engagement with you. We'll ask her." To the butler,
who entered, he said: "Tell Miss Roberts that her father would like to
see her here."
The man disappeared and the senator took a hand in cross-examining the
now thoroughly uncomfortable secretary.
"So you thought my daughter looked pale and that a little excursion to
Buffalo would be a good thing for her? Well, it won't be a good thing
for you, young man, I can assure you of that!"
The English aristocrat began to wilt. His assurance of manner quite
deserted him and he stammered painfully as he floundered about in
excuses.
"Not with me--oh dear, no," he said.
"You never proposed to run away with my daughter?" cried the irate
father.
"Run away with her?" stammered Bagley.
"And marry her?" shouted the senator, shaking his fist at him.
"Oh say--this is hardly fair--three against one--really--I'm awfully
sorry, eh, what?"
The door opened and Kate Roberts bounced in. She was smiling and full
of animal spirits, but on seeing the stern face of her father and the
pitiable picture presented by her faithful Fitz she was intelligent
enough to immediately scent danger.
"Did you want to see me, father?" she inquired boldly.
"Yes, Kate," answered the senator gravely, "we have just been having a
talk with Mr. Bagley, in which you were one of the subjects of
conversation. Can you guess what it was?"
The girl looked from her father to Bagley and from him to the Ryders.
Her aristocratic lover made a movement forward as if to exculpate
himself but he caught Ryder's eye and remained where he was.
"Well?" she said, with a nervous laugh.
"Is it true?" asked the senator, "that you were about to marry this man
secretly?"
She cast down her eyes and answered:
"I suppose you know everything."
"Have you anything to add?" asked her father sternly.
"No," said Kate shaking her head. "It's true. We intended to run away,
didn't we Fitz?"
"Never mind about Mr. Bagley," thundered her father. "Haven't you a
word of shame for this disgrace you have brought upon me?"
"Oh papa, don't be so cross. Jefferson did not care for me. I couldn't
be an old maid. Mr. Bagley has a lovely castle in England, and one day
he'll sit in the House of Lords. He'll explain everything to you."
"He'll explain nothing," rejoined the senator grimly. "Mr. Bagley
returns to England to-night. He won't have time to explain anything."
"Returns to England?" echoed Kate dismayed.
"Yes, and you go with me to Washington at once."
The senator turned to Ryder.
"Good-bye Ryder. The little domestic comedy is ended. I'm grateful it
didn't turn out a drama. The next time I pick out a son-in-law I hope
I'll have better luck."
He shook hands with Jefferson, and left the room followed by his
crestfallen daughter.
Ryder, who had gone to write something at his desk, strode over to
where Mr. Bagley was standing and handed him a cheque.
"Here, sir, this settles everything to date. Good-day."
"But I--I--" stammered the secretary helplessly.
"Good-day, sir."
Ryder turned his back on him and conversed with his son, while Mr.
Bagley slowly, and as if regretfully, made his exit.