"Oh, I haven't given up hope. Not a bit of it. But I have to look
ahead. That's a part of me. But I won't talk about it if you don't
like."
At the thought of her anxieties my feelings over-mastered me and I said:
"I do like. But I want you to look ahead to something else--to another
future than taking care of your uncle's house." My heart thumped in my
breast, and I felt a throb in my throat playing strange tricks with my
voice. In the instant I thought of all that I had put at stake, and
wished I had not begun. But with an effort of will I continued: "I want
you to think of another future. I love you more than all the world, and
I want you to be my wife."
She walked silently by my side, neither increasing her distance nor
drawing nearer to me. But she walked on and spoke no word, and I fell
into a panic over the boldness that had inspired me to my avowal. We had
proceeded thus for two or three blocks before I plucked up the courage
to ask:
"And what is the answer?"
She kept her head down, but replied with a trace of drollery in her
tone:
"It wasn't a question. And there isn't any answer."
"I'll make it a question then."
She looked quickly up into my face.
"It wouldn't do any good if you did. Anybody can ask questions, but it
takes a very wise person to answer them."
"But," I pleaded, looking into her eyes till she cast them down once
more, "it means everything to me, and--"
"I know all that you would say," she interrupted. "But how can I think
of such a thing when I have so much that must be done--so many
uncertainties to face?"
She laid her hand appealingly on my arm, and looked up into my face
again. Then she continued:
"My uncle is perhaps dying. I don't have to tell you how all his
affairs are in confusion. And you are the friend I have most to look to
for help and counsel. You won't take my chiefest reliance away from me,
will you?"
Her appealing look and tone were too much for me. It was a very quiet
place on a very quiet street, and the dusk had fallen almost to
darkness; so I yielded to the impulse and stopped and kissed her. She
did not resist, but drew a quick breath that was almost a gasp, and
lowered her eyes. Then she said quietly:
"There--all that is to be put away with the things that were. And
you're to think of all you have said as something that came in a dream.
And now we'll wake up and look to the serious business of life. It
isn't such a very pleasant season of life is it?"
Her voice broke a little as she ended and my heart smote me.
"I hope," I said, "that I don't have to tell you that you can depend on
me for every service that I have power to give."
She took my arm again with an air of confidence.
"You are always to be my good friend," she said. "And now we'll go back.
It's getting dark, and maybe the fresh air wasn't what I wanted after
all. I'm a bit upset."
I felt somewhat upset myself. I was certainly left hanging in a most
uncertain and unsatisfactory position; but I saw no way to better it,
and held my tongue, and wondered with a jealous pang if Baldwin had,
after all, won the prize I coveted.
We walked on in silence for a time, but at last she suddenly said:
"Oh, there was something I was near forgetting to tell you. I've been
sitting by uncle, almost all day, and for the most of the time he has
lain there more like a log than a man. But sometimes he has talked--not
to know what he was saying, you understand--but some ideas are bothering
his poor head. I am supposing that they have to do with his business. A
dozen times in the day he spoke your name, and seemed to be trying to
tell you something. He told it over and over, but the only words I
could make out were 'notes,' 'million,' and 'five hundred and sixteen.'
The figures seem to mean something to him, for he has repeated them
oftener than anything else."
She paused for comment, and I submitted my guesses:
"The notes are probably those that Peter Bolton presented to-day. The
million is roughly the amount we are short in the business, counting the
deficit in the syndicate fund. I can't imagine what the 'five hundred
and sixteen' can mean. It is not the number of his office, for that is
in the four hundred block. There doesn't seem to be anything in the
business that it could signify."
Laura Kendrick halted me, and looked up in my face.
"I am not given to intuitions," she said, her tone thrilling with
earnestness, "but I have one now. As sure as you stand there, uncle
made provision for paying the notes and raising the rest of the money
you have had to find, and the number 'five hundred and sixteen' has
something to do with it. Find the five hundred and sixteen and you'll
find the million dollars." And with a nod of conviction she walked
forward once more.
"It may be one of the banks," I ventured to suggest, "but I can't
remember that any of them are at that number."
"Mightn't it be the place of business of some friend, where he has left
this money?"
I shook my head at this improbable guess, and turned the problem over in
my mind without result. Then I ventured to propose that I should see
Wharton Kendrick.
"My presence might stir his thoughts to some more definite speech," I
argued.
"Well, I'll let you in for just a minute. But Doctor Roberts said that
nothing must be done to excite him, and I don't know as it is right to
take the risk."
In a few minutes we were in the sick-room where Wharton Kendrick lay.
His large frame was motionless, except for his breathing. His face was
flushed, and the lines of strength and power that it bore in health had
faded into expressionless weakness.
"He is like this for the greater part of the time," said Laura; "yet I
have the feeling that under it all he is conscious of what is going on
about him, and I do everything just as if I were sure that he could hear
and see."
It was beyond all bounds of probability, yet at the conceit a sudden
thought came into my mind.
"If you should be right, he must be horribly worried about his affairs.
I'll just say a word to relieve his mind." Then speaking slowly and
distinctly I gave a brief account of the course of the markets, dwelt on
the success of the syndicate in sustaining the business fabric, and
hinted at the need for more money on the morrow.
There was no physical response. If there was an intelligent brain in
that inert body, it found no servant at its call among the flaccid
muscles, and not even the moving of an eyelid gave sign that I was
understood. Yet as I spoke, there came somewhere in my consciousness the
conviction that I was heard, and that my words had brought relief to an
overstrained mind.
Laura Kendrick looked quickly from the face of her uncle to mine, and a
sudden light sprang into her eyes.
"You felt it, too," she said.
"Yes."
"You have done good; but you mustn't stay here any longer. Don't leave
the house, though, unless you have to. I shall be afraid when you are
gone."
As she opened the door to banish me from the sick-room, a servant had
just raised his hand to tap at the panel.
"What is it?" she asked.
"A man to see Mr. Hampden. I took him into the library."
*CHAPTER XXVII*
*A CALL TO ARMS*
I followed the servant and was surprised to find Clark uneasily seated
on the edge of a cushioned chair, nervously twisting his hat, and
looking as though he was afraid he was going to break something.
"I'm sorry to bother you here," he said awkwardly, "but things have come
to a head."
"What is it now? Do you think that to-night's meeting is going to make
more trouble than the other one did?"
"Well, no, sir. The meeting don't amount to much. To tell you the
truth, sir, the meeting is only a blind. Parks got out the notices, and
he's going to make a speech. But he's the only one of the Council's
people who will be there. The others are down at headquarters getting
ready for the real work of the night."
"The real work? What do you mean by that?"
"Well, the truth of the business is," said Clark, "that the rifle clubs
are to be called out to-night. Orders have gone out to all the Council's
clubs to assemble at eleven. At twelve they will be given their guns,
and then they will be sent out to seize the city. One company is to
take possession of the City Hall; another will take the Committee of
Safety's headquarters; and others the National Guard Armories, the Mint,
the Subtreasury, and so on."
"Are they crazy? Why, the Committee of Safety has fifteen thousand men
enrolled by this time."
"Crazy? Not a bit of it," protested Clark warmly. "The Committee of
Safety won't have any leaders or any guns left by to-morrow. Coleman,
and Mayor Bryant, and General McComb, and every man of the Committee of
Twenty-Four will be under lock and key before morning if something isn't
done about it. They all go home to sleep, and there isn't a man of 'em
that's thought of having a guard about his house. They'll all be taken
like rats in a trap. Then where's the Committee of Safety and the
militia? They'll be without leaders and without guns, and what'll they
do? They'll scatter like sheep. The whole scheme has been worked out
like the plans for a building, and if the Council isn't stopped before
twelve you'll wake up to-morrow morning under a new government."
"Nonsense!" I said. "They can't do that."
"All right," said Clark, with a hurt and offended look, "they can't,
then. But it was my duty, sir, to warn you, and I've done it, so I'll
be going."
"I beg your pardon, Clark," I said hastily. "I didn't mean to doubt
your word or hurt your feelings. You've done quite right in coming here,
and it's my business to see that they don't carry out their crazy
schemes. Wait a minute, and I'll walk along down with you."
I had a hurried word with Laura Kendrick, and explained to her the
importance of the information Clark had brought, and the necessity of
laying it promptly before the Committee of Safety.
She looked up at me with some apprehension in her eyes.
"Well, if you must, you must," she said. "But don't you get into any
mobs or into any fighting. Just remember that it's the man who orders
somebody else to do his fighting that gets the glory out of it. If
there's any trouble, see that you're one of the orderers instead of one
of the ordered."
I laughed at her anxious counsel, and promising to use all the caution
with which nature had endowed me, I joined Clark and left the house.
Directing Clark to attend the sand-lot meeting and to get word to
Andrews at once if the mob should head for the Kendrick house, I caught
a car and rode to the headquarters of the Committee of Safety.
Horticultural Hall resembled a beehive on swarming day. Wealth and
poverty were represented side by side. Merchants, workmen, lawyers,
doctors, laborers rubbed elbows, and their stern and serious faces
testified to the depth of feeling that had brought them out to the
defense of the city. It was an outburst of the same spirit that had
given birth to the nation, and had again called forth vast armies to
preserve it when its existence was threatened by civil war.
At the end of the hall a number of desks had been arranged where
enrolment was still in progress. Behind the desks was a platform, and as
I approached it I saw William T. Coleman walk briskly to the speaker's
stand.
"Three cheers for Coleman!" came the cry from a strong-lunged Vigilante,
and three cheers were given with a will.
The president of the Committee raised his hand to command silence.
"Fellow-citizens:" he cried in a full, resonant voice. "You have come
here to fight--not to talk or cheer. We find a mob spirit abroad, very
dangerous to the peace and order of the city. It is your business to
put that spirit down. For this purpose you are clothed with all the
powers of police officers. The mayor has issued his proclamation,
commanding disorderly persons to disperse, and it is our part to see
that this proclamation is obeyed. You have behind you the armed force
of the State and Nation. But it should be a part of your pride as San
Franciscans that this force should not be needed for your protection.
The people have shown on former occasions that they were able to protect
themselves. Show now that your courage and self-reliance have not
degenerated in twenty years."
There was a warm response to this exhortation, and, at a sign from
Coleman, the adjutants began calling forward the companies, and
despatching them to their work.
"Captain Korbel!" called the commanding voice of the adjutant at the
desk nearest us.
"Here!" came the reply in a strong German accent, and a man with
energetic face stepped out from a company of twenty men.
"You will patrol Mission Street, from Sixth to Twelfth. Keep the street
clear of all persons having no business there. If they resist, put them
under arrest, and turn them over to the police at the Southern Station.
Get your arms from that pile."
"So ist righdt," said the captain, and giving a salute he marched his
company to the west side of the hall where a great number of
pick-handles that had been sawn in two, base-ball bats, and wagon
spokes, had been arranged in convenient stacks. Each man of the company
picked up a club, balanced it in his hand, and brought it down on the
head of an imaginary hoodlum with the solemnity of a prepared ritual.
Then at the word of command the company marched out while others were
receiving their orders from the desks of the adjutants.
I had observed this lively scene with but half an eye, shouldering my
way forward to meet William T. Coleman as he descended from the
platform. He had talked for a little with some member of the Committee,
but as he came down the steps on his way to the side room that served as
a private office, I hailed him. He looked up quickly, and his face
changed as he caught sight of me.
"Is Kendrick dead?" he asked anxiously.
"No. He is still unconscious, but living."
"What is the trouble, then?" he asked, looking keenly into my eyes.
"You have bad news."
Then before I could reply, he said, "Come in here," and led me into the
private office. "Now let's hear about it," he said.
"The Council of Nine is ready to use its rifles," I replied. And I gave
with rapid phrases the tale of the imminent revolution as it had come
from Clark.
William T. Coleman listened with a rapt attention that showed he took
the warning more seriously than I had taken it.
"Then we have till midnight," he said, after he had digested the
information.
"My informant said that the rifle clubs are ordered to assemble at
eleven o'clock."
He looked out of the window into the darkness; then he turned to me
again.
"It will never do to let those men come together with arms in their
hands. That would mean bloodshed--terrible bloodshed. I am using every
effort to prevent an appeal to arms. I have refused to call for the
militia. The National Guard is under arms, but I have a promise from
Bryant that he will not ask for it until I give the word. I have
refused an offer of Federal troops from the Presidio. I have a note
from the admiral that the marines and sailors at Mare Island have been
put under arms, and that the Pensacola is ready to take a position that
will command the city. But I have refused to permit them to be
summoned. I shall never summon them except as a last resort. It is an
awful thing to have men shot down, and the memory of such an affair
would be a lasting stain on the city."
"It would be sad to have innocent men killed," I said; "but I shouldn't
weep over the loss of some of those demons I saw raiding wash-houses and
trying to kill Wharton Kendrick. The world would be better off without
them."
"Do not judge them too hastily," said Coleman quickly. "Civilization is
at best only skin-deep. Scratch the civilized man, and you find the wild
beast. It takes a little deeper scratch to find it in some men than in
others; but it is there. You and I think ourselves well-balanced,
Hampden, yet I have seen men of our nature turn into ferocious beasts.
I pray God I may never see the like again. These men you saw in the
shape of demons the other night may be good citizens in quiet times.
Thank God, young man, for government. It is the blessing of organized
society--of organized government--that keeps the wild beast behind
bars." He spoke with feeling, yet with the philosophic calm of the
lecturer on law, and he impressed me profoundly with his momentary
unveiling of a broad and tolerant mind. Then he became the man of
affairs again.
"Do you know where to find the headquarters of the Council?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Do you know these men by sight?"
"I believe I can recognize eight of the nine."
"Well, then, I shall have to ask you to go down to the Council's
headquarters at once, and arrest the leaders of the movement. You will
have the honor of ending the uprising before it has begun."
*CHAPTER XXVIII*
*WITH THE PICK-HANDLE BRIGADE*
If I had stopped to consider how fully the safety of Wharton
Kendrick--to say nothing of his niece--depended upon me, I should
perhaps have found courage to decline the dangerous mission. But
William T. Coleman's commanding eye was upon me; and after a gulp to
moisten my dry throat, I replied with an attempt to put a cheerful
spirit into my voice:
"Very well; but I'd like to take a man or two along--merely as a
guaranty to the Council that I'm not joking."
Coleman smiled.
"Oh, I didn't expect you to go alone. Take as many men as you like.
Will twenty be enough?"