JOHN WINTHROPE IS SURROUNDED BY PERPLEXITIES.
The morbidly silent Monroe went about his duties with the serenity of a
cat out on a dark night. The immobility of his starched face left no
impression on the beholder of it as to whether he could be successfully
punctured with the light of pleasantry. His feline movements from office
to office among the clerical force cast an uncanny glamour over them
all; and when not in the act of always appearing to be ready to make a
spring upon them, as he glided whisperingly through the aisles of desks
and high stands, he would be sitting at his own desk, in a corner of his
private room, scanning sheet after sheet of reports and balances, and
running over leaf after leaf of notations that had been left on his
spindle for his especial perusal.
He was a very precise man, very accurate, very painstaking. He was a
very obdurate man, very exacting, very positive. He was a very efficient
man, very dependable, very obliging. He was a very incomprehensible man,
very calculating, very mysterious. And besides, he was by nature very
crafty, revengeful and egotistic. None of which traits could be read in
his marble-like physiognomy; but they had to be worked out, to see them
plainly, by a system of watching, and close scrutiny of his acts. He had
risen in the office force from the bottom, and held his present post by
right of apparent merit.
No one under him, or above, for that matter, ever dreamed that behind
his iron mask lay another man, unscrupulous and unfaithful. No one ever
thought of him but that he was honest, upright and beyond reproach. No
one ever thought of him being a depraved man, as being licentious, as
being impure in thought and actions; because all these things were
hidden under his bushel of contrarieties.
At his desk, Mr. Monroe always worked with dispatch in disposing of the
matters that daily came before him; and rarely could he be approached,
except by the carrier of messages, or by an important personage, and
then by announcement--except the head of the firm, who, of course, had
free access to his room.
He was sitting, one day, enveloped in a great pile of work, when it was
announced that Mr. Winthrope, the secretary, desired an audience with
him. The secretary was admitted; but he was not asked to sit down. He
stood before him in his own power; and he drew his own conclusions. But
he said:
"Mr. Monroe, do you have at hand the balance sheet of last month?"
"I can get it," he answered, automatically.
"Mr. Jarney desires to go over it again," said John.
Mr. Monroe procured the sheet, and stiffly handed it to John, with one
of his stony stares. John took the sheet and left him. When he reached
the door, going out, he turned and caught the stolid face of Monroe
still upon him. Neither said a word. John went out. Mr. Monroe pressed a
button. A short, heavy set, square shouldered man, with green eyes,
answered the button's call. He was Welty Morne, the head of the
bookkeeping department.
"Welty," said Monroe, familiarly, "do you ever see the secretary after
work hours?"
"No."
"Do you know where he lives?"
"At The King House, Diamond alley."
"He is never out at night, is he?"
"I have never seen him."
"He never associates with the boys, does he?"
"He seems to be a seclusive chap," said Welty.
"Yes; and very selfish," said Monroe, quietly. "Does he spend any
money?"
"Have no way of knowing--except, perhaps, he pays his board and rent."
"Let us call on him tonight, and initiate him; will you?"
"I should like a little outing in this disagreeable weather, and will be
happy to join you," replied Welty, with his green eyes beaming in
anticipation of a lark.
"Will you call at my place at nine p. m.?"
"I will--whee-e-e!"
Welty Morne retires. The button is pressed again. Bate Yenger, assistant
to the head bookkeeper, enters. He sits down, and looks indolent. He is
a slim chap, with a fair face and black eyes, which show indications of
night-hawking.
"Bate," said the impressionless Monroe, "have you met the new secretary
after work hours?"
"Have not."
"Know anything of his habits?"
"Nothing."
"Do you want to go on a lark tonight?"
"Wouldn't mind it."
"Then come to my place at nine p. m."
Bate Yenger disappears. Monroe resumes his work. John returns the
balance sheet, and hands it to Monroe. Monroe takes it, and scans it
over. He sees some check-marks upon it. He folds it up, and puts it
away. John remains a moment, as if he would like to speak to Monroe; but
Monroe does not speak. John, then, goes out.
* * * * *
Promptly on the hour of nine p. m., Welty Morne and his boon companion,
Bate Yenger, called at the apartments of Mr. Monroe at the St. Charles.
That chunk of stiffness they found was ready, and together the three
fared forth for a night of rounding.
They called upon John Winthrope in his dingy quarters--a hideous
contrast, they thought, to their own bright and luxurious living places.
John was surprised, of course, to see them. Would he go out with them?
Whither? For sight-seeing.
John looked at his open books and papers on his little table, glanced
down at himself, half inclined to accept; but very perplexed about it.
He hesitated, and then asked them into his room. They entered, but did
not sit down, as there was only one chair, which later was preempted by
Welty.
"Why don't you get decent quarters, Mr. Winthrope?" asked Welty, who was
a lively and a very talkative fellow.
"Cannot afford it," answered John.
"Oh, bosh! You receive as much, and more, than many of the other young
men in our office, and the way they fly one would think they were
millionaires' sons," replied Welty.
"I have a mother and father to assist," said John.
"Won't you go tonight; we will pay the way," insisted the persuasive
Welty.
John still hesitated. He pondered a moment, and then replied: "No, thank
you; I do not care to go."
"Just tonight, Mr. Winthrope; three is a company, and four is a crowd,"
pursued Welty.
"I thank you very much, Mr. Morne; but really, now, I do not care to
go," persisted John.
During this ineffectual conversation, Monroe stood leaning against the
door as passive as a tombstone, with Bate Yenger leaning awkwardly
against the wall near him, looking as vapid as a snake in winter time.
Welty was disconcerted, disappointed, and aggravated. At John's last
remark, he tried to hide his displeasure of it beneath a subtle smile
that was a cross between sarcasm and disgust. John sat on the edge of
his bed in a thoughtless mood, chewing the end of a tooth-pick. All four
were silent for an uncomfortable period of time. Then Welty broke the
spell.
"So you won't join us?" he asked.
"No; thank you; I do not care to go," answered John.
"Ah, he is not so easy as I thought," said Monroe to himself.
Silence followed. John sat still, masticating his tooth-pick, being
little concerned as to how they took his answer. He wanted to be curt to
them, by demeanor; and wished they would depart. For reasons of his own,
which he considered private, as far as he was concerned, he did not
desire their company under any circumstances. Therefore, while he aimed
always to be polite to the triumvirate schemers, he would rather show
himself to be a boor than to have them about him.
So, disgusted with John's susceptibility to fall into their trap, and
displeased at their own lack of tact, the three gentlemen went rattling
down the stairs, and out into the street.
"He's a Sunday-schooler, all right," said Welty, as they lined up side
by side, with Monroe in between, to go down the avenue.
"Aw, a cheap skate," said Bate.
After Monroe began to realize the abject failure of his scheme, and
after the words of the other gentlemen had percolated through his
adamantine head, he remarked, in reply to each of the other's opinion,
that Winthrope was a sissy, which application, it is readily seen, was
not well placed; then he said: "He is an impeccable good-for-nothing. He
needs to be shown a thing or two in this old town--but he will learn all
right, like the rest of them."
"You are a poor inveigler," said Welty to Monroe, facetiously.
"My time, like that of all dogs, will come yet," said Monroe.
"Well; I would like to know your motive?" asked Welty.
"Oh, I just wanted to get him limbered up a little," answered the astute
one.
Thus being vanquished in his purpose, Monroe excused himself, after they
had walked a few blocks, and retreated to his rooms, there to enter upon
the duties of outlining a more ingenious campaign toward the destruction
of John Winthrope's name, and to ruin his chances for continuing in the
office of Jarney & Lowman. His first conceived plan was to get John
Winthrope out of the way, in the head office. This he could only hope to
do by besmirching his character, or cause him to commit some overt act
of deportment that would be laid up against him in the eyes of Mr.
Jarney.
So, after being rebuffed in his first effort, Monroe concluded to take
another tack, and would thereafter become and be John's intimate friend,
a good fellow towards him, and a hearty supporter of him before the
firm, and thereby get results. These things he thought out pretty
clearly, and definitely decided that on the morrow he would bombard the
fort from another angle.
So on the morrow, as soon as Mr. Winthrope had arrived, he was surprised
to receive a polite little note, via the messenger, to call in the
office of Mr. Monroe as early as convenient, and without interference in
his official capacity. Ever prompt in complying with such informal
invitations (which he took it to be, instead of a command), and having
time to spare before the arrival of Mr. Jarney, he repaired at once to
the sanctum of Mr. Monroe.
That gentleman, John was also surprised to see, had unbended to such
proportions, that, when John approached his desk, he arose, and shook
hands with him, an heretofore unheard of performance of cordiality on
Mr. Monroe's part.
"I have asked you in, Mr. Winthrope," said Monroe, "to apologize for
intruding on you last night. It was only a whim of one of the boys out
on a lark, with whom, unfortunately, I fell in with at the untimely
hour."
"Oh, that is all right, Mr. Monroe," replied John. "I took no offense at
your visit."
"I thought, perhaps, you might have been offended."
"The fact is, I was very busy last night and forgot all about your
intrusion after you had gone," said John, smiling affably, but with
noticeable indifference in his voice.
"I should like to have your confidence, Mr. Winthrope," said the wily
one. "Inasmuch, as we are near to the head of the firm, we should be on
better terms."
"Perhaps we should," answered John, still indifferent.
"I shall deem it a pleasure to have you call on me some evening, and
accompany me to dinner; or, if you will set the time, I shall call on
you."
"You are very kind, Mr. Monroe."
"May I call, or will you call?"
"Neither," replied John, without exhibiting a sign of what he meant.
"Then, I am to understand, you do not court my company?" said the
unruffled one.
"No; not that, Mr. Monroe. I am very busy of evenings. Sometime I may
accept your invitation; but not for the present," responded John.
"What is it that so engrosses you of evenings, may I inquire?" asked the
worming Monroe.
"Yes; you may ask whatever you please--I am taking a post-graduate
course in business on my own time," said John.
"To what end?" asked Monroe.
"That I may be better prepared to perform my duties; for that reason I
do not care to spare the time to go out."
"Very well, Mr. Winthrope; success to you," said Monroe. "But may I not
anticipate your company to dinner before very long?"
"I cannot now decide, Mr. Monroe--not now; but will inform you of my
decision at a later date," replied John.
Hearing Mr. Jarney enter his office at this juncture, John said good bye
to the cat, and retired. He found Mr. Jarney tuned to a conversational
degree that morning that perplexed him. Mr. Jarney dictated a few
letters, beginning on them as was his custom, immediately after taking
his seat, and looking over some important ones; then he lighted a cigar,
and reared back in his chair in pleasant contemplation of the circles
that he blew out and sent upwards like escaping halos. John sat
regarding him for a few seconds with calm complacency; then, seeing that
he did not intend to proceed further, for the present, with the
dictation, said that he would retire and transcribe the letters.
"No hurry, Mr. Winthrope; no hurry," said Mr. Jarney, looking
searchingly at John. "You are the most unfathomable chap I ever saw, Mr.
Winthrope," he continued. "Here a week has gone by and you have not yet
made inquiry about my daughter's health."
John was astonished at this statement.
"Mr. Jarney, I should have inquired," he said; "but I felt it out of
place for me to be so familiar with your family matters."
"Why so?" he asked, with sharpness.
"I feared you might think me presumptuous," replied John, timidly.
"You presumptuous? I am not snobbish, Mr. Winthrope," he returned.
"Well, I felt that I would be keeping my place, by keeping silent," said
John.
"I never mentioned the matter, Mr. Winthrope, because I wanted to see
just how long you would be silent," said Mr. Jarney. "And don't you care
to know?"
"Why, Mr. Jarney, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to know
that Miss Jarney is improving."
"She is not," he said, despondently.
"Is she serious?" asked John.
"Very serious," he replied. Mr. Jarney must have noticed the pallor that
stole over John's face at this unwelcome information; but if he did not,
he divined John's eagerness to know more of Edith's complaint, and
continued: "Yes, Mr. Winthrope, she is very serious. She has brain
fever. The escapade of young Barton brought a great blow upon us all;
for I have great fears of her recovery."
"Do the doctors give no hope?" asked John, eagerly.
"No hope," was the reply, as Mr. Jarney shook his head, and resuming his
old demeanor of being affected by some inward impulses that had pervaded
him for the week past.
"I am very sorry, Mr. Jarney, that I did not know of this before now, so
that I could have sympathized with you," said John, feelingly.
"I appreciate your modesty, Mr. Winthrope, in not inquiring, and I
deplore my disposition in not being more communicative; for I knew all
along you were anxious to know, after the kind services you rendered us
by bringing her home," said Mr. Jarney, speaking now with considerable
emotion.
"I know I should have inquired, Mr. Jarney, and was on the point of
doing so several times, but I always felt that you were indifferent as
to how I felt about the matter."
"Mr. Winthrope, I must be frank with you, for dear Edith's sake, and
tell you all. She--"
"--not expected to recover," interrupted John, bending forward intently.
"No, that is not what I was about to say," he replied, scanning John's
face. "While in a delirium, she repeatedly calls for you. Every day and
every night she has been doing this, since you brought her home. We
would have sent for you to come to see her had we believed your presence
would have been of any avail in bringing her to her reason. But, as the
doctors said that is true in all such cases, we deferred to their
advice. As her father, I do not believe their opinion is of much moment
in her present critical condition, so I am going to request you to
accompany me to my home this evening for dinner, and incidentally you
may see Edith, for what comfort she, or you, may have in such a
meeting."
This was certainly startling information to Mr. Winthrope. He had put
through many fruitless hours wondering about the outcome of Edith's
illness, and suffered some pangs of heart thereby; but little did he
dream, or anticipate, that he could, in any manner, be considered by the
lady, whose station in life was miles and miles above him. The statement
of Mr. Jarney only caused him more regret, for he considered Edith's use
of his name, in her delirious hours, the wild fancies of an afflicted
brain. And he was perplexed.
"If it is your wish, I shall be glad to go with you, Mr. Jarney," said
John, after gaining his composure.
Mr. Jarney noticed the effect of what he said upon the young man, and he
could not restrain from saying: "I shall deem it a pleasure; and I know
it will be a great favor to Mrs. Jarney if you go."
"I shall go," he said.
"Then we will leave the office early," said Mr. Jarney.
"May I have time to dress?" asked John.
"All the time you require, Mr. Winthrope. You may leave the office at
three, and be ready to go at four."
"Thank you; I will be ready," returned John, as he gathered up his note
book and papers, and repaired to his office.