"Do you think," asked Coleman, "that Kendrick will be able to get down
to-morrow?"
"No, the doctor said it would be impossible."
"That is very awkward. The syndicate's money is deposited in his name,
and he is the man to sign our checks."
I saw the advantage of keeping this power in Wharton Kendrick's hands,
and suggested:
"Possibly he can attend to that part of the business at the house. I
can have a line of messengers to carry the checks back and forth."
Coleman wrinkled his brows, and gave his head a forceful shake.
"That won't do. The arrangement would lose us forty minutes on every
transaction. You had better get Kendrick to make out a check for the
whole amount in favor of Nelson, and Nelson will look out for the
details."
I was far from satisfied that this was the best way out of the
difficulty. It eliminated Wharton Kendrick as a factor in the
operations of the syndicate, and I had a vague but controlling feeling
that this would fit badly with his plans. But I could give no sound
reason for dissent from the suggestion, and at last Coleman said:
"Go to Kendrick, and ask him for the check. I'll have Nelson and
Partridge here by the time you get back, and we can talk the business
over more fully."
The Kendrick house was bright with lights as I reached it, and I was
more annoyed than pleased to find Mr. Baldwin busily assisting Miss
Kendrick, and directing the servants in the work of clearing up the
broken glass and securing the open windows with boards.
Mr. Baldwin recognized me in his most superior way, and assumed his most
magnificent airs of proprietorship from the top of the ladder, as he
waved a hammer as his baton of command.
"Ah, Hampden," he said with a cool nod, "this is a fine mess your
friends have made of things."
"Gracious, me!" exclaimed Miss Kendrick. "Is that the way friends act?
I've seen men play some pretty rough pranks in the name of friendship,
but I'm sure I never knew them to go so far as they did with Mr.
Hampden. It's a mercy he wasn't killed. You should have seen him when
he came in from the fracas!"
Mr. Baldwin appeared to be put out of countenance by this railing
acknowledgment of my share in the defense of the house, and I judged by
his tone that he considered it a reflection on him for being absent in
the crisis.
"I had been out of town," he said stiffly, apparently for my
enlightenment, "and got in on the eight o'clock boat. Later I heard
that your friends were on the war-path, and threatening to burn Nob Hill
and Van Ness Avenue. Then I came up here to see if I could be of
service, and found that it was all over--except the repairs." And with
this attempt to set himself right, he resumed his air of importance.
"Well, it's very lucky you weren't here," said Miss Kendrick. "I don't
doubt you would have got your head broken, and you'd never be able to
stand up on that ladder if it was going around the way Mr. Hampden's is.
Oh," she cried suddenly, "what have you done with that bandage I put
over your bump?"
"It came off," I said weakly, bringing the damp and offending rag out of
my pocket.
"I believe you took it off," she said with an air of reprimand.
"You can put it on again," I pleaded with meek submission.
"No--it can stay off," she said. "You're getting on entirely too well
to be fussed over any more. And now if you'll go in and see uncle, I'll
be obliged. He has been dozing, but he comes to with a start every few
minutes and asks for you. I'm hoping you can quiet his mind, for his
worry isn't at all good for him." And her voice quivered with a
pathetic note of affectionate anxiety.
Wharton Kendrick lay on the couch with his eyes closed, but opened them
vacantly as I came in. Mercy Fillmore sat by his side. He collected
himself with an effort, and said:
"I've been wanting you, Hampden! What was it you were to see about?
Some business, wasn't it?" His eyes wandered, as though he were seeking
for some lost thread of memory.
I gave him a condensed account of my visit to William T. Coleman. He
heard me listlessly until I came to the request to make out a check for
the syndicate's balance in favor of Nelson. Then he started violently,
and half raised himself.
"I'll see 'em damned first!" he cried. "How can I protect myself if the
money is turned over to Nelson?" He looked about wildly, fiercely; then
sank back and closed his eyes.
Mercy Fillmore shook her head at me, and her eyes expressed reproach.
"You are exciting him," she whispered. "Isn't this business something
that can be put off?"
He heard her and answered:
"No, it can't be put off. There'll be a smash in the market in the
morning, and I shan't be there to stop it!" He had begun with energy,
but his voice trailed off into a querulous tone as he added: "What shall
I do? What shall I do?" Then suddenly a look of resolution came into
his face. "Bring me my check-book," he cried with feverish impatience.
"There's one in that coat pocket. Be quick about it!"
The book was produced, and after looking at it helplessly for a little
he handed it back to me. Then he seemed to collect his faculties and
asked:
"What was the balance? Why can't I remember?"