THE VISIT OF HARBERT
"It's Harbert," said Elias Droom.
"Why didn't you say to him that I am busy? I don't want to see
him," said his employer in a sharp undertone. Droom's long finger
was on his lips, enjoining silence.
"He said that you wouldn't want to see him, but that it didn't make
any difference. He'll wait, he says."
They were in the private office, with the door closed. Bansemer's
face was whiter and more firmly set than ever. The ugly fighting
light was in his eyes again.
"If he has come here to threaten me, I'll kill him," he said
savagely.
"You'll do nothing of the kind," said the clerk with what was meant
to be a conciliatory smile. "Meet him squarely and hear what he
has to say."
"Do you suppose she has told Cable? He may have sent Harbert here."
"Cable's hands are tied. I know too much. If I were to tell the police
what I know he'd have a devil of a time getting the presidency of
his road. Besides, they both owe me a vote of thanks. Didn't I
have sense enough to make it look like robbery?"
"Yes, but curse your stupidity, they may charge you with the job.
Nobody would believe that Cable would attempt to rob his own wife."
"But they would, in any event, decide that he had taken the rings
to make it appear like robbery." There was a hard rap on the glass
panel. "He's bound to see you, sir."
"Well, then, show him in!" snarled Bansemer.
"Mr. Bansemer will see you, sir," said Droom suavely, opening the
door suddenly.
"Thanks," said Harbert shortly. He entered the private office
and faced the lawyer, who was standing near his desk. "I've taken
advantage of your invitation to drop in and see you."
"This is one of my busy days, Mr. Harbert," said Bansemer, determined
to come to the point at once. "However, I hardly expected a social
call from you, so it must be of a business nature. What is it?"
"It concerns your son, Mr. Bansemer. I'm here in the capacity
of a physician. You must go away for his health." Harbert smiled
as though he thought it a good joke. Bansemer turned red and then
white.
"I don't quite appreciate your wit, sir."
"My humour, I'd suggest as a substitute. Well, to be perfectly
plain, sir, your son does not know the true nature of the malady.
He--"
"Do I understand you to say that he really has an ailment?" exclaimed
Bansemer seriously.
"It isn't hopeless, my dear sir. My only desire is to keep him
from ever finding out that he has a malady. He is sure to learn
the truth if you remain here."
"Damn you, Harbert, I understand you now, and I want to say this
to you: I'll not drag that boy away from this city. He's successful
here and he's one of the most promising young men in town. I'm not
going to have him hounded from town to town by--"
"You don't quite understand me, sir. On the contrary, he should
remain here. What I do mean to say is this: he won't feel like
staying here if the truth about his father is uttered. That's the
brutal way to put it, Bansemer, but you've GOT TO GET OUT."
The two glared at each other for a full minute. Bansemer was as
white as a sheet--but not with fear.
"Harbert," he said in low tones, "I've half a mind to kill you."
"Don't. You'd hang for it. There are at least a dozen members of
the bar who know that I have come here to see you, and they know
why, too. See here, Bansemer, you're a scoundrel to begin with.
You've always been a knave. How you happen to have a son like
Graydon I can't imagine. If I did not know that your wife was a
noble, honest woman, it wouldn't be difficult to supply a reason
for--"
"Stop! By God, you shall not say a word against my wife! I'll brain
you with this weight! You--"
"I have not said a word against her--nor against your son. For her
and for him I have the deepest respect. I am trying to protect the
memory of one and the future of the other. Bansemer, I believe that
I drove you out of New York. You escaped without exposure simply
because the witnesses lost their nerve. That won't be the case
here. You think you've covered your tracks nicely. You haven't.
You've tripped into half a dozen traps. I don't know what your
game is with the Cables, but you're base enough to take advantage
of your son's position in that home. Don't interrupt! I'll soon be
through. I'm a man of few words. If it were not for your son I'd
swear out the warrants for you to-day on five different charges.
For his sake I'm going to give you a chance. I've worked on you for
three years. I swore I'd get you some time. Well, I've got you, and
I'm going to cheat myself out of a whole lot of pleasure. I'm not
going to smash you as I intended. Your son's friends have prevailed.
To show you that I'm not bluffing, I have every bit of evidence
in the Burkenday case, the Flossie Bellamy job, the widow Hensmith
affair--and it was a damnable one, too--with two or three more. You
broke that woman's heart. I don't suppose you know that she died
last month. You never noticed it, eh? Her precious coachman is living
like a lord on the money you and he took from her. Old Burkenday's
housemaid has bought a little home in Edgewater--but not from
her wages. The two jobs you now have on hand never will be pulled
off. The girl in the Banker Watts case has been cornered and has
confessed. She is ready to appear against you. McLennan's wife
has had the courage to defy your accomplice--that dastardly butler
of theirs--and he has left town, frightened out of his wits. Your
time has come. The jig is up. It won't be as it was in New York,
because we have the proof. There is a committee of three down in
Rigby's office now waiting for me to report. If I take word to them
that you expect to sail for Europe next week, never to return to
this country, all well and good. It is for your son's good health,
bear in mind. If you go, the public may never learn the truth about
you; if you stay you will be in jail before you are a week older.
And, Mr. Bansemer, you've got to decide DAMNED QUICK."
Bansemer looked his accuser straight in the eye, a faint smile of
derision touching his lips, but not his eyes.
"Mr. Harbert, the first thing you have to learn in connection with
your patient's father is that he is not a coward. I refuse to run,
sir. I am innocent of any intentional wrong, and I'll stand my
ground. My son will stand beside me, too; he is that sort. Go back
to your committee and tell them that Bansemer will not go to Europe
for his son's health. Good-day, sir!"
"Nonsense, Bansemer," exploded Harbert. "You know we've got you
fast enough. Why be a fool as well as a knave? You haven't a ghost
of a chance. I'm trying to do you a good turn."
"A good turn? Mr. Harbert, I am neither a fool nor a knave. If
I were a fool I'd kill you where you stand. I would be justified
in killing the man who represents a crowd of blackmailers. That's
what you are, sir. I refuse to pay your price. If I were a knave
I'd pay it. I want you to understand one thing. I shall stand my
ground here. If you persecute me, I'll not stop flaying you until
death ends my endeavours. We'll see what justice can give me in
exchange for your bulldozing. I will have restitution, remember
that. Now, you've nothing more to say to me. Get out!"
"Sir!"
"Get out!"
"By George, you're a wonderful bluffer."
"Do you expect me to throw you out, sir?"
"It isn't necessary. I've had a change of heart in the last minute,
Mr. Bansemer. I withdraw my proposition. By all that's holy, I
intend to go after you now without pity. Hang your son's feelings!
You won't take my advice. I didn't give it as a friend, because I
detest you. It was done in a weak spirit of fairness toward your
son and toward the girl he is to marry. Now, I put them out of my
consideration. They---"
"Get out!"
Harbert, very red in the face, slammed the door after him and
strode angrily through the outer office into the corridor. Droom
immediately entered the consultation room.
"Well? What is it?" demanded Bansemer.
"What did he want?"
"He invited me to go to Europe for an indefinite stay. I refused.
We'll fight it out, Droom. We have covered our trail better than he
thinks. They can't convict me. I'm sure of that. They have nothing
but conjectures, and they won't go in court."
"I'm afraid of him, just the same. You're bull-headed about it.
Every criminal thinks his tracks are covered until it is too late
to cover them properly."
"Curse you, Droom, I'm no criminal."
"A slip of the tongue on my part. Do you know who is down there in
Rigby's office with those fellows?"
"An officer, I daresay."
"No. David Cable."
"Cable? Then, his wife has told him everything. Well, I've something
to tell, too. By the Lord Harry, Elias, there will be several
sensations in high life."
"You don't mean that you'll tell all there is to tell about the
girl?"
"No! That's just it! That is one thing I won't tell. If you tell
whose blood she has in her veins, I'll kill you like a dog. But,
I'll see that Miss Cable is dropped by Chicago society inside of
a week. I'm mad, Droom--do you understand?"
"But Graydon loves her."
"He won't love her long. I was a fool to let him go this far--a
blind, loving fool. But I'll end it now. He shan't marry her. He
has no---"
"I haven't much of a heart to boast of, Bansemer, but I beg of you
not to do this thing. I love Graydon. He doesn't deserve any pain
or disgrace. Take my advice and leave the city. Let me call Harbert
back."
"No! They can't drive me out! Telephone over and ask Graydon to
stop here on his way up this afternoon."
The opening and closing of the outer door attracted their attention.
Droom peeped forth. In spite of himself, Bansemer started and his
eyes widened with sudden alarm. A glance of apprehension passed
between the two men.
"It's that Deever boy from Judge Smith's," reported Droom.
"Tell him to get out," said Bansemer, with a breath of relief.
"I thought it might have been---" began Droom with a wry grin.
"Nonsense!"
"It is a bit too soon. They haven't had time."
As Droom left the room, Bansemer crossed to the window and looked
down into the seething street far below. He saw that his hand
trembled and he tried to laugh at his weakness. For a long time
he stood there, his unseeing eyes focused on the hurrying masses,
his ears alert for unusual sounds from the outer office.
"If it were not for Graydon," he was muttering between set teeth.
"God, how I hate to have him know!"
Droom had told Eddie Deever to "get out," but Eddie was there to
talk and be talked to, so he failed to take the hint.
"Say, I haven't seen you since you played the hero up in the
fashionable part of town. Gee, that was a startler! I'll bet old
man Cable rewards you in some way. What's your theory about the
hold-up?"
Droom looked up sharply. For the first time there shot into his
mind the thought that the breezy boy might be a spy.
"I haven't any," he replied shortly. He was trying to remember if
he had ever said anything incriminating to the boy.
"How d' you happen to be over there just at that time?"
"I haven't time to talk about it. Please don't bother me. It
happened three days ago and I've really forgotten about it. Don't
throw that cigarette into the wastebasket. Haven't you any sense?"
"Gee, you don't suppose I'm going to throw it away, do you? There's
half an inch of it left. Not me. Say, I've heard your boss has quite
a case on Mrs. Cable. How about it?" he almost whispered this.
"You shouldn't talk like that."
"Oh, you mean that gag about people living in glass houses? Gee,
don't worry about that. Chicago is a city of glass houses. A blind
man could throw rocks all day and smash a hole in somebody's house
every crack. I believe the hold-up man was one of those strikers
who have been out of jobs all winter. Smith thinks so."
"Who?"
"Judge Smith."
"That's better."
"Did you see his face?"
"What are you, bub--a detective?"
"Rosie Keating says I'd make a better policeman than lawyer. She's
sore at me for taking Miss Throckmorton to Mam' Galli's the other
night. Fellow stood on the piano and sang the derndest song I've
ever heard. But, gee, I don't think Miss Throck was on. She didn't
seem to notice, I mean. Say, on the dead, do you think you could
identify that fellow?"
"Look here, boy, if anyone ever asks you whether I'd know that
man's face if I saw it again, you just say that I'd know it in a
thousand. I saw it plainly."
Eddie gulped suddenly and looked more interested than ever.
"Do you think they'll get him?"
"They will if he talks too much."
"I hope so. Say, how's that new patent coming on?"
"I'm not making a patent. I'm making a model. It's nearly completed.
The strike in the shops is holding me back with it. Curse these
strikes."
"Oh, they bust 'em up mighty quick. There hasn't been a big one on
since Debs engineered his and Cleveland called out the troops."
"Boy, you wait a few years and you'll see a strike that will
paralyse you. Look at these teamsters. They're powerful now. They'll
get licked, but they'll come back. When the next big money panic
comes--it'll be in my day, too--you'll see the streets of Chicago
running with blood. These fellows will go after the rich, and
they'll get 'em. You will live to see the day when women who wear
diamonds around their throats will have harsh, horny ringers there
instead. There will be rich men's blood on every paving stone and
beautiful necks will be slit with less mercy than marked the French
butchery years ago. That's my prophecy. Some day you'll recall it
to mind, especially if you happen to become very prosperous. It's
bound to come. Now get out. I have a lot of writing to do." Eddie
snickered.
"What will the law be doing all this time?"
"Bosh! The law can't even capture Mrs. Cable's assailant. Do you
know what the human lust for blood is? Take an enraged man, doesn't
he hunger for blood? He wants to kill and he does kill. Well, he
is but an atom--an individual. Now, can you imagine what it will
mean when a whole class of people, men and women, are forced to one
common condition--the lust for blood? The individual lusts, and so
will the mass. The rage of the mass will be the same as the fury
of the individual. It will be just like one tremendous man of many
parts rioting for---"
The outer door opened suddenly and an old gentleman entered.
"Is Mr. Bansemer here?" he asked, removing his silk hat nervously.
"Yes, Mr. Watts. I'll tell him you are here."
Watts, the banker, confronted Bansemer a moment later, an anxious,
hunted look in his eyes. John Watts was known as one of the meanest
men in the city. No one had bested him in a transaction of any kind.
As hard as nails and as treacherous as a dog, he was feared alike
by man and woman.
Watts, perhaps for the first time in his self-satisfied life, was
ready to bow knee to a fellow-man. A certain young woman had fallen
into the skilful hands of Counsellor James Bansemer, and Mr. Watts
was jerked up with a firmness that staggered him.
"Mr. Bansemer, I have come in to see if this thing can't be settled
between us. I don't want to go into court. My wife and daughters
won't understand that it's a case of blackmail on the part of this
woman. Let's come to terms."
Bansemer smiled coolly. It was impossible to resist the temptation
to toy with him for a while, to humble and humiliate this man who
had destroyed hundreds in his juggernaut ride to riches. Skilfully
he drew the old man out. He saw the beads of perspiration on hit,
brow and heard the whine come from his voice. Then, in the end, he
sharply changed his tactics.
"See here, Watts, you've got a wrong impression of this affair.
I don't like your inferences. I am not asking you for a cent.
I wouldn't take it. You have just offered me $25,000 to drop the
affair. That's an insult to my integrity. I've investigated this
girl's claim pretty thoroughly and I believe she is trying to fleece
you. I have given up the case. None of that sort of thing for me.
She'll go to some unscrupulous lawyer, no doubt, but I am out of
it. I don't handle that kind of business. You have insulted me.
Get out of my office, sir, and never enter it again."
"Give me that in writing," began the wily banker, but Bansemer had
called to Droom. Eddie Deever was standing near the door, almost
doggedly curious.
"Show Mr. Watts the door, and if he ever comes here again call the
police. He has tried to bribe me."
Watts departed in a dazed sort of way and Droom closed the door.
"Are you still here?" he demanded of Eddie Deever in such a manner
that the young man lost no time in leaving.
"There goes twenty-five thousand," said Bansemer, with a cold grin.
"I guess you can afford to lose it," muttered Droom. "It was slick,
I suppose, but it's probably too late to help."
"Have you telephoned to Graydon?"
"Not yet."
"Don't."
"Change of heart?"
"Change of mind."
"That's so. You haven't any heart."