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.
[Photo, from the play, of Mr. Ryder discussing his son
with Miss Green.]
"Marry Jefferson yourself."--Act III.
"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 senator.
"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 tomorrow 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.