"Seven million three hundred and twenty thousand," he repeated. "Well,
make out a check to yourself for that amount. Now help me up while I
sign it. What are you waiting for? Give me that pen."
I was somewhat dashed by the responsibility that was being thrust upon
me, but I could think of no better course. So we propped him to a
sitting posture, and he signed his name somewhat unsteadily to the
check.
"Now take it, Hampden," he said. "You won't see me go down, will you?
Look out for my interests. They're yours, Hampden. Stand by me this
time, and I'll stand by you always." His voice trailed off into
indistinctness as we laid him back on the pillow, and after a struggle
to speak, his face flushed a startling red, he mumbled a few incoherent
sounds, and was lost to his surroundings.
Mercy Fillmore uttered a cry at this sudden change.
"Oh, I wish Doctor Roberts was back!"
"Here is Doctor Roberts," said the quiet professional voice, as the
physician entered the room and stepped to his patient's side. "No more
business to-night," he continued sharply. "I am afraid there will be no
more for many days. I must ask you to retire, Mr. Hampden; the
atmosphere is too exciting for Mr. Kendrick."
I denied myself the pleasure of interrupting Mr. Baldwin's conversation,
as I went out, and hastened to the Coleman house.
Partridge and Nelson had already arrived, and I found them earnestly
discussing the situation with Mr. Coleman. They greeted me with
condescension, inquired civilly of the condition of Wharton Kendrick,
and warmly expressed their indignation against the mob.
"Was Kendrick able to sign the check to Nelson?" asked Coleman, coming
abruptly to the matter of business.
I explained, as diplomatically as I was able, the arrangement my client
had made.
"Well, then," said Nelson, "it is very easily settled. All you have to
do is to indorse the check over to me." And he looked at me with the
self-satisfied air of the business man whose word is law to his
employees.
The calm assumption that I was to be eliminated from the proceedings
without so much as saying "by your leave," roused my combative
instincts, and it was only by drawing a firm rein on my temper that I
was able to reply calmly:
"I do not think I am justified by my instructions to take such a step."
"What do you propose to do, then?" asked Partridge shortly.
The tone in which the question was put added fire to my resentment, and
I replied with emphasis:
"I shall be guided by the wishes of my client, and where he has not
expressed a wish, I shall follow my own judgment."
Partridge and Nelson looked at each other.
"I think I shall go and see Kendrick," said Partridge.
"Mr. Kendrick is in a stupor, and the doctor would not permit him to be
seen, even if he could be roused," I replied.
"This is very awkward," said Nelson, drumming on the table with his
fingers.
"Not at all," said Coleman, in calm and tactful voice. "Mr. Hampden has
the money that was intrusted to Kendrick. He has Kendrick's power of
attorney. For all practical purposes he is Kendrick. He will sign the
checks just as Kendrick would have signed them. Is not that your idea,
Mr. Hampden?"
"You have stated exactly my understanding of my instructions, Mr.
Coleman. I am ready to sign any checks that Mr. Kendrick would sign if
he were here."
Partridge nodded his assent to this construction of my orders, but
Nelson still looked sourly at me.
"What checks do you think he would sign?" asked Nelson.
"Why, in general, I should say that they would be any that are approved
by you three gentlemen."
Nelson's face cleared and he stopped drumming on the table.
"That is satisfactory," he said. "Then we had better make our
headquarters again in Mr. Kendrick's office. It is the most central
location. We shall be there a little before ten o'clock."
"You had better see the bank about transferring the money to your
account before the opening," said Partridge, as we rose to go. "When
the fun begins, you'll have no time to waste."
*CHAPTER XXIII*
*THE COMMITTEE OF SAFETY*
I came out of the bank from my morning visit in a daze of emotions. The
street was thronged with hurrying crowds. The air was electric with the
tension of social storm. The echoes of the mob's outburst could be
heard in the indignant comments that passed from mouth to mouth; the
fears that it inspired could be read in the tense lines that it had
written on men's faces. But it was all one to me. I saw and I saw not.
I heard and I heard not. I walked the street stunned, overwhelmed with
the conviction that an irreparable blunder had snatched the control of
events from my hands, and doomed Wharton Kendrick to swift and certain
ruin.
I had found the president of the Golconda Bank in his private office at
a few minutes after nine o'clock, and Wharton Kendrick's card had
secured me prompt admission. I had known the president slightly for
several years, and he received me with brusk kindness as I stated my
errand and exhibited my credentials.
"Oh, we'll arrange that for you in two minutes," he said, after he had
examined my papers, and questioned me on Wharton Kendrick's condition.
"Just indorse that check, and I'll have the account put in your name."
When he had sent his messenger to the cashier with his directions, he
continued:
"That is a heavy responsibility you have on your shoulders to-day.
There is plenty of trouble ahead. We look to the syndicate to do the
work of a commercial fire-patrol." And he favored me with a few words
of advice for which I professed myself grateful. He was still giving
counsel, when the cashier reappeared with a troubled face.
"There's something wrong about this," he said, laying my check before
the president.
"That is Kendrick's signature," said the president, scrutinizing it once
more.
"But look at the figures," urged the cashier.
"Seven million three hundred and twenty thousand dollars?"
"Yes; but there is only six million eight hundred and twenty thousand in
the special account on which this check is drawn."
The president drew his lips into a whistle, and then said:
"Well, we can't do anything with it, you see. You'll have to go back to
Kendrick and get him to correct it."
If I had been as wise at the moment as I became by subsequent reflection
I should have summoned all my powers of eloquence to convince him that
the safety of the bank as a part of the commercial structure of the city
lay in getting that fund promptly released for use in the coming crisis.
The arguments with which I could have supported such a thesis came to me
in abundance a day later. But at the moment I was stricken dumb and my
wits were scattered by the thought that Wharton Kendrick had used for
his own purposes a half-million dollars of the syndicate's money, and
was to be dishonored before the world.
Before I could recover myself the president had bowed me out of his
room, and I was mechanically guided by my subconscious self to Wharton
Kendrick's office. In my bewilderment I came into collision with a man
who stood by the door, and begged his pardon without getting an
impression of his personality.
"Why, God bless my soul, Hampden! What's the matter with you? You run
over a man without even the politeness to call out 'Hi there!' and then
you look at him as though it was the first time you'd ever set eyes on
him. Is this the day you pick out to send your wits a-wool-gathering?
Where's Kendrick? I see by the papers there was a row up at his house
last night, and he got a nasty knock on the head."
It was General Wilson, looking more fiery and self-important than ever.
"What's the matter?" he continued, slapping me jovially on the back.
"Is Kendrick worse hurt than the papers say? You look as though the
bank had broken."
I told the general of the assault on Kendrick and of his perilous
condition, and the general puffed out his red cheeks, blew out his
breath with a noise like a porpoise, and cursed the mob with a
heartiness and good will that was inspiring.
"Put me in charge of this town for twenty-four hours, and I'd hang every
mother's son of those agitators higher than Haman," said the general,
when the ready stock of curses ran out. "That's the way to deal with
'em. But cheer up! Kendrick will be all right in a few days."
I felt an inward shrinking from telling General Wilson the rest of the
woeful truth. But the truth would be the property of the street within
an hour, and it could not be made worse by trusting it to even so
garrulous a confidant as he. Perhaps I had a faint hope that the old
campaigner might make a suggestion that would help me out of my
difficulties; but the overmastering thought in my mind was that I held
the position of a conductor of a runaway train that was plunging down a
mountain grade to certain wreck, and it did not matter what I did or
said. So taking the general into Wharton Kendrick's office, I told him
my tale of the dishonored check.
He took it more calmly than I had expected. "How much did you say he's
overdrawn?" he asked in businesslike tones.
"Five hundred thousand dollars."
"That was the deuce of a mistake for Kendrick to make. Can't you get
him to correct it?"