"It's quite worth while, after all," I said.
She colored, but looked steadily at me as she worked.
"Don't get too appreciative," she said.
"Impossible!" I interrupted.
"Because," she said, "I'm coming to believe that you're not so badly
hurt as your poor head looks. The blood on your face isn't yours at all,
but came from somebody else--"
"You ought to see the other fellow," I murmured softly.
"--and you've been getting sympathy under false pretenses, and I really
think I ought to call Jane to look after you while I attend to uncle."
"I shall sink into the last stages of dissolution," I protested, "if you
turn me over to an incompetent nurse."
"Incompetent! Why, Jane is twice as competent as I."
"It depends on the complaint. I'm sure she wouldn't understand mine at
all."
Laura smiled indulgently as she adjusted the last knot on the bandage.
"There," she said, "you're quite picturesque, and you'll be all right in
the morning. And I don't think you need anybody to look after you at
all."
I was about to protest that my condition was most serious when she was
called to Wharton Kendrick's couch, and I caught Moon Ying's eyes fixed
on mine. I smiled and nodded, and she beckoned me, so I wheeled my
chair to her side.
"What I tell-em you?" she said. "I no go 'way, bad man come, all same
shoot, fight, tly bu'n house, eh?"
"This not for you, Moon Ying," I reassured her. "Bad man come, anyhow.
Plenty of that kind outside of Chinatown."
Moon Ying shook her head and pointed to Danny Regan.
"Him Li'l John's explessman--I sabby him many time come Li'l John's
place."
I looked at Danny Regan's low-browed countenance, and realized that an
attack of the highbinders' mercenaries had been made under cover of the
larger attack of Bolton's hirelings and the anti-Chinese mob.
"I think you're right, Moon Ying," I said. "But just you sabby this:
bad men in front of house, they no come from Little John; they were
after Mr. Kendrick. You can claim those fellows behind the house. But
you see we are no worse off for having you here. 'Twas the other
fellows who broke the windows."
I was just on the point of interrogating Danny Regan as to the inspiring
cause of his raid when I heard Wharton Kendrick's voice rise in
querulous tones:
"Here, I must get up," he said with evident effort. "Is the city on
fire?"
"After a while," said the soothing voice of the doctor. "The city is
all safe, and you'll have to wait till to-morrow before you get out."
"I must look after things to-night," said the patient, his voice rising
complainingly. "I must look after things."
I got to my feet and walked softly to his couch. He was vainly trying to
rise, and beating the air helplessly with his hands.
"I must get out--help me, somebody!" he cried in an appealing voice. He
tried to lift himself, but his body refused to obey his will.
The doctor uttered a soothing protest.
Miss Kendrick added her voice to the authority of the doctor and at her
quieting words Wharton Kendrick closed his eyes. Then on a sudden he
opened them widely, and again attempted to raise his head.
"It's the business--it's the business!" he cried with the voice of one
who had brought a forgotten thing from the depths of his memory. "It's
all upset. I must see to it, or it will be too late."
She patted him again with gentle hand.
"There--there," she said, in the comforting mother-tone. "It will be
all right. You can't do anything to-night. It's after ten o'clock."
He gave a groan.
"The markets will go to smash in the morning unless we get ready for
them to-night. It's all up," he moaned. "It was all in my head, and
it's all gone. There'll be a smash in the market to-morrow, and I can't
help it." Then he broke into passionate sobbing, while Laura Kendrick
knelt over him, wiped away his tears, and made above him those murmuring
sounds with which the mother comforts the hurt child.
It was with something of the awe with which one meets the earthquake
that I witnessed the collapse of the fortitude and self-control in
Wharton Kendrick. The foundations of the earth seemed breaking up when I
saw this type of self-reliant manhood whimpering and weeping like a
whipped schoolboy.
Doctor Roberts had been attending to Danny Regan of the broken leg, but
he now returned to his more demonstrative patient.
"Come, come," he said in his most cheerful professional tone. "This is
no way to get well. If you want to be out to-morrow, you must be
quiet." And he motioned us away.
"It's all going to smash--I can hear it going," sobbed Kendrick, "and I
can't remember what to do." He lay looking anxiously from side to side
and repeated over and over, "I can't remember what to do."
As Doctor Roberts motioned us away again, I took him aside.
"Is there any chance of his getting down to business to-morrow?"
"Not the slightest. And he must not be excited by talking of it."
"I think I can ease his mind somewhat," I said. An idea had been slowly
forming in my brain, and now it sprang forth complete. I sat down by
him and took his hand to help his wandering attention.
"I'll look out for the business," I said. "I'll see Mr. Coleman
to-night. We'll get the syndicate together, and protect the markets
to-morrow."
"That's it--the syndicate--that's it," he cried with a visible relief.
"That's what I was trying to think of--the syndicate. Coleman will
know; Partridge will know."
I called for paper, pens and ink, and wrote out in duplicate a formal
authorization by which Wharton Kendrick gave Arthur Hampden, his
attorney, the power to act for him in all his business affairs.
In the meantime I had despatched one of my men to summon a notary who
lived down by Polk Street. The official was at home, up, and dressed,
and he hurried to the Kendrick house, hot on the scent of the liberal
fee that the name called up before his imagination. When he had come, I
read aloud the power of attorney I had drawn.
"That's it, Hampden; you won't see me go down, will you?" said my client
in a pleading voice. And with some difficulty he attached his
signature, and Doctor Roberts and Mercy Fillmore signed as witnesses,
while the notary affixed his official acknowledgment.
Armed with this evidence of power, I started for my hat, when Miss
Kendrick stopped me.
"You aren't going out in that fix, are you?" she demanded. And at her
gesture I remembered my torn and one-sleeved coat, and the chiaroscuro
of soil and grass stains with which I had been decorated.
"I was thinking that I should be all right if I got a hat, but I'm
afraid it will take more than that to fit me out," I said ruefully.
"Come to think of it, my hat is out on the lawn with the other sleeve of
my coat. There's quite a collection of second-hand clothing out there,
but it's rather dark to find one's own."
"Men are so fussy about their hats," said Miss Laura, "but I'll have the
collection brought in from the lawn, and maybe you can make yours do for
to-night. As for the coat, I'll bring down one of uncle's that's too
small for him, and you won't look so very ridiculous, after all."
My headgear, when recovered, bore evidence that it had been worn on a
militant heel; but when I had brought the torn edges together, I
flattered myself that in the darkness it would look almost as good as
new. And although the coat hung loosely upon me, and the stains of
battle refused to yield to the brush, I was consoled by the thought that
these departures from the rules of polite dress would add corroborative
details and a livelier interest to my tale of Wharton Kendrick's
undoing.
"Now, leave that bandage alone," commanded Miss Laura, as I raised my
hand to complete my toilet by removing that badge of battle. "You have
to wear it. And you have no idea how becoming it looks."
I submitted ruefully to this edict of petticoat tyranny, and Miss
Kendrick rewarded me by escorting me to the door. She gave me her hand,
and there was a look in her eyes that was near to carrying me off my
feet as she said with the suspicion of a tremble in her voice:
"I hope you don't think we are not appreciating what you have done--and
are doing."
"It is nothing," I said, looking into the magnetic depths of her eyes,
until she dropped her glance to the floor, and blushed divinely.
"It is nothing," I repeated. Then bending, I touched my lips to her
hand, and with no other word ran down the steps in a tumult of elation.
The Coleman house was alight as I rang the bell, and William T. Coleman
himself appeared close on the heels of the suspicious servant who took
in my card. He was able to recall the circumstances of our introduction
as he gave me a cordial greeting and shook me warmly by the hand.
"I was in hopes Kendrick would come himself," he said; "but as he
hasn't, I am glad he sent you."
"Mr. Kendrick didn't come because he couldn't come. He was badly hurt
in to-night's riot."
"Kendrick hurt? How badly?"
I described the extent of his injuries as well as I could, and Coleman's
eyes took on a troubled look.
"I wanted to consult him about affairs. A number of our leading men
have been here this evening, and General McComb has agreed to issue a
call for a citizens' meeting at the Chamber of Commerce to-morrow
afternoon. We must devise some way to assist the authorities, and I
looked to Kendrick to take a leading part."
"It will be some days before he can be out. But he is very anxious
about the state of business. He is afraid there will be a smash in the
markets to-morrow."
William T. Coleman smiled, and the calm sense of power that shone in his
eyes gave me renewed courage.
"Kendrick was always one of the men who think that nothing will be done
if they don't attend to it themselves," he said with good-natured
raillery.
"Well, it's usually true, isn't it? Most things don't get done."
"A very just observation, Mr. Hampden. Most things don't get done. The
man who has the brains and will to accomplish things is the invaluable
man. It's our main trouble in every branch of the world's work--to find
the man with ideas and the force to carry them out. But we must show
Kendrick that he isn't indispensable in this crisis. Did he explain to
you the state of affairs?"
"No. He could only refer me to you for details. He gave me the
authorization to represent him in the syndicate, and in his business
generally. It was all he was able to do."
"Well, the syndicate brought together a capital of ten million--I
suppose you know that."
"Yes, but I believe it was heavily drawn on in the raid of last month."
"We had to put out close to three million six hundred thousand of loans
that day, but some of it has come back since."
"Then the syndicate must have between six and seven million at its
disposal."
"Over seven, I think. Kendrick could give you the figures out of his
head--that is, before his head was broken--but I'll have to get them
from my memoranda."
"How long do you expect that to last in a storm?"
"It ought to see us through any crisis that can arise."
"But this is a more serious occasion than the other. See our riots, and
the explosion of violence in the East. Will not these frighten our
business men far more than the rumors that set off the hub-bub of last
month?"
Coleman leaned back in his chair, his face expressing confident
cheerfulness, and his eyes magnetic with power.
"Very true," he said. "But on the other hand, the flurry of last month
shook out the weaklings. Stocks and bonds are shifted into strong
hands. Doubtful accounts have been closed out. We are in much better
shape than before the squall struck us."
"I'm glad to hear it," I said with some relief, though the thought of
Peter Bolton's malign activities weighed on my mind, and I was tempted
to confide in William T. Coleman. But as Wharton Kendrick had kept the
matter to himself, I followed his example, and continued: "I believe the
interests of Mr. Kendrick can best be served by sustaining the markets
and preventing failures. But as to details, I should like your advice."
"Well, I will read you the memorandum made at our meeting of the other
night of the men and firms who are likely to need help, and the amounts
it would probably be safe to lend them." And Mr. Coleman brought a
sheet of paper from his desk and interpreted the cabalistic signs that
covered it. The freedom with which the names of banks, business houses
and individuals had been handled would have created a sensation if the
paper had been published. "And here is a list of the men who have had
advances," he said, taking out another sheet and reading off names and
figures.