"I act on the assumption that Wharton Kendrick will get well," I
replied. "And if he gets well only to find that I have made a general
assignment of his business, how much further do you suppose he will
trust me with his affairs?"
"That's all right for you," said Partridge. "But how shall we look when
we present our account to the syndicate and show that we have loaned one
of our members three hundred and fifty thousand without security? How
long do you think it would be before we got a chance to handle any more
of their money? We'd be waiting till the next day after never, I
guess."
The knot of circumstances seemed to be pretty firmly tangled, and I saw
no way but to cut it by a bold stroke.
"I don't want to act without your consent--" I began.
"You have no right to act without our consent," interrupted Partridge,
with quick insight into my resolve.
"Right or not, I have the power. And you will be relieved of
responsibility if I pay the money without your consent."
"You wouldn't do that!" cried Nelson and Partridge in a breath, their
faces showing signs of rising temper.
"I certainly shall do it before I see Wharton Kendrick's notes go to
protest and a financial panic start in San Francisco."
Partridge and Nelson looked at me with concern and anger pictured on
their faces. But before either could speak, the door opened and William
T. Coleman entered.
"You're just in time, Coleman," said Partridge explosively. "See if you
can't put reason into this young man's head."
"What's the trouble?" asked Coleman, looking calmly at the flushed and
angry countenances before him.
Partridge and I attempted to explain our positions at the same time, but
Coleman picked out the facts from the confusion, and with a few tactful
questions had the situation clearly in his mind.
"The solution is very simple," he said. "Wharton Kendrick subscribed
five hundred thousand to the syndicate. Mr. Hampden will assign us
three hundred and fifty thousand out of that sum, and we shall be
perfectly protected."
Coleman's plan was so logical and businesslike a way out of our
difficulties that I breathed a sigh of relief, and the anger of my
associates evaporated in a laugh at our stupidity in not thinking of it
for ourselves.
"How much does that leave in the fund?" asked Coleman, when I had taken
up the notes, and sent the clerk on his way.
"A trifle over twenty-three thousand."
"Gentlemen," said Partridge, rising with a theatric gesture, "the
syndicate retires from business. Thank Heaven it is striking three."
"And what of to-morrow?" I asked.
Partridge shrugged his shoulders.
"I wish to God I knew," he said.
*CHAPTER XXVI*
*ON THE PRECIPICE*
The air of gloom that enveloped Wharton Kendrick's home was almost
physical in its intensity. It was with apprehension that I awaited the
opening of the door, and it was with anxious eagerness that I looked to
Mercy Fillmore as she stood behind the servant who answered my ring.
"Oh, Mr. Hampden," she exclaimed, as she advanced and gave me her hand,
"I have been wishing you would come."
I was gratified at the tone of relief and confidence with which she
spoke, but my response was to ask of the condition of Wharton Kendrick.
"He is still out of his head," she replied, dropping into a seat.
"Sometimes he talks a little--a few broken words--but most of the time
he lies there silent, with vacant eyes. If it were not for his heavy
breathing we should hardly know that he was alive." Her sympathetic
face was filled with concern as she spoke.
"What does the doctor say?"
"He tries to look cheerful and speak confidently, but it is such an
effort, I am afraid. Yet for Laura's sake I hope, and try to be
convinced by the doctor's words." Then she added quickly: "I said I
wanted to see you. Mr. Parks was here to-day. We had a long talk, and
truly, Mr. Hampden, I want you to believe that he is a man of noble
impulses. He is so unselfish, so eager for the good of others."
"I don't complain about his instincts. His heart is in the right place,
as the saying goes, but his head is upside down."
"Oh, Mr. Hampden, you do not understand him!" said Mercy in a pained
voice.
"Perhaps not; but surely he has not convinced you that he is wise to
engage in such desperate enterprises as the overthrow of the
government?"
Mercy was silent a little, and then she said:
"I should be glad if he could see some other way to work for the good of
the people, but I am not wise myself, so how can I judge him? He tells
me that it is not right to reason from womanly fears. Do you think he is
in danger, Mr. Hampden? He is planning some important enterprise for
to-night. Is there anything we can do to save him?"
My private opinion was that Parks would end by getting shot or thrown
into jail. But I could not pain Mercy with any such brutal statements,
so I soothed her fears as best I could. "We can't influence him to keep
out of the movement," I said, "but ten to one it won't amount to
anything but a lot of oratory, and hard words break no bones. You have
no cause to worry about him."
"Well, I'm glad to hear you say so," said Mercy, looking relieved. "And
now I want to tell you about Danny Regan. You know that Moon Ying
recognized him as that old Chinaman's express-man?"
"Yes. She told me."
"Well, I talked to him until he confessed the whole plot to me. It
began last week, after a good deal of bargaining, when he agreed to
steal the girl. He came late one night with two others, and thought
there would be nobody watching the house. But your men surprised them
coming over the fence, and caught Danny's friend. He is the
sergeant-at-arms of an anti-coolie club, he said. Danny and the other
one got away. Then Danny came around in the daytime, and pretended to
be a tramp, and got something to eat and talked everything out of the
cook. She told him all about Moon Ying, and where she slept, and Danny
raised a company to attack the house. He was going to set it on fire,
and capture the girl as we all ran out, and when the hoodlums came in
front, he thought it would be easy. I asked him how he could do such a
thing, and his excuse was that he was drunk. He wants to know if you
are going to have him arrested, and tries to lay the blame on the
Chinaman he calls Little John. Do you intend to put him in jail?"
"I can't think of a better place for him. How soon can he be moved?"
"I suppose he ought to be punished. But he has suffered much for his
crime, and now appears to be truly repentant. And at best he can not
well be moved until next week. Don't you think we might forgive him?"
"No, I don't. You and Miss Laura might have been killed. I am angrier
every time I think of it. Where is she now?"
"She is with Mr. Kendrick. She has hardly left his side to-day. She
gave ten minutes to Moon Ying--it's a blessing that our little protegee
is getting able to help herself--and she gave about as much more to
looking after the house. The rest of the day she has spent with her
uncle."
"I should say, then, that it was about time she took some rest."
"Well," said Mercy, rising, "I hope you can convince her of it. I'll
tell her you are here." And she left me alone.
It was ten minutes before the door opened and Miss Kendrick entered. I
greeted her with some surprise, for she was dressed as though she had
just come in from the street.
"Oh, you needn't look so astonished," she said, as she gave me her hand
with a tired smile. "I haven't been out of the house to-day, so I
thought I'd enlist your services as cavalier. I'm dying for a breath of
fresh air."
"I'm glad to find you with some spirit left. I was afraid you would be
dead."
"I am," she returned, leading the way out of the door. "But I shall be
alive after a little walk. I don't like being a ghost, but it's much
more tolerable than one would suppose before trying it."
She was in no mood to make conversation, and walked by my side for a
while without speaking. But there was such an air of confidence in her
manner, such unspoken expression of comradeship in her attitude, that I
was content to follow her example and find satisfaction in the silent
communion and feel delight at the pressure of her hand upon my arm. We
had walked a few blocks thus before she said, with an abruptness that
startled me:
"Tell me about to-day."
I had been thinking of far more agreeable things than business, but I
recovered myself from the momentary confusion into which I was thrown,
and replied:
"It was a very lively day indeed." And, once started, I described, with
such entertaining details as I could recall, some of the incidents of
our struggle to keep the car of commerce on the track.
"I didn't mean all that," she said at last. "It's very amusing, but I'm
not in the mood to be amused. Neither are you. What I want to know
about is uncle's business."
"Well, as for that," I replied, "we got through another day safely. We
had one or two exceedingly tight pinches, but we wriggled out all right.
I guess the worst of it is over, and we shall pull through in good
shape."
She dropped my arm with an impatient gesture, and I felt a sudden
breaking of the current of silent communication that had drawn us
together.
"Won't you tell me just what happened at the office to-day, and just how
we stand? Didn't I tell you that I find nothing so terrible as
uncertainty? It is the unknown that scares me. Let me see what is
before me, and I'll have the courage to face it. Tell me the truth as
you would tell it to uncle if you were talking to him instead of to me."
Her tone was so pleading that my heart melted within me, and I was
shaken with the desire to take her in my arms and tell her that it would
be the business of my life to shield her from harm. It was a minute
before I had a firm grasp on myself. Then I laid the whole account of
Wharton Kendrick's business before her, as fully as I knew it.
She heard me soberly, with only a question here and there to clear up
the points she did not understand. Then she asked:
"The troubles aren't over yet, are they?"
"No."
"And what shall you do to-morrow?"
"I wish I knew."
She reflected a little, and then said:
"You can't perform miracles every day. You could not get through
another day like to-day, could you?"
"Not without help from somewhere. But I hope that the worst is over."
"Oh, you needn't think I'll blame you if everything goes to pieces.
You've done ten times as much as anybody had a right to expect. But
there is a limit to the things that can be done, and I know it very
well."