THE CRASH
Bansemer was not losing his courage; it was only the dread of having
Graydon find out. He stuck close to his office, seeing but few
people. However, he did saunter into Rigby's office for a friendly
chat, but learned nothing from, the manner of that astute young
man. With a boldness that astonished himself--and he was at no
time timid--he asked if Harbert intended to remain in Chicago for
any length of time. After he had gone away, Rigby rubbed his forehead
in a bewildered sort of way and marvelled at the nerve of the man.
The day passed slowly; but late in the afternoon the suspense became
so keen that he found it difficult to keep himself from making
inquiries of the proper officials as to whether affidavits had been
filed by Harbert or any other person. His hand did not shake now,
but there was a steady pain at the back of his head.
"Droom, I think I'll go home. If I don't appear in the morning,
you'll know that I'm at some police station. Good-day!"
"Good-bye!" said Elias, with correcting emphasis. Bansemer laughed
heartily.
"I believe you'd like to see me jugged."
"Not unless you could be convicted. I'll have to remain in your
employ until then, I suppose."
"I've often wondered why you don't quit of your own accord--it
seems so distasteful to you."
"I'm working for you from force of habit."
"You'll turn State's evidence if I'm arrested, no doubt, curse
you."
"If my word counted for anything," and he raised his hand; "I'd
say--'So help me-I shan't."
"I've never been able to understand you."
"I guess you've always understood my feelings towards you."
"You hate me?"
"I'm no exception to the rule."
"But hang you, you're faithful?"
"Oh, I'll pay for it, never fear. You won't hesitate to sacrifice
me if it will help you in any way. But, let me tell you something.
Elias Droom has been smart enough to cover every one of his tracks,
even if he hasn't been able to cover yours. I can't perform miracles.
You don't seem as keen to bring about the family explosion as you
were, I observe."
"By heavens, I can't bear the thought of that boy--oh, well, close
up the office as soon as you like."
After he was safely out of the office Elias Droom glided into the
private office, drew forth his bunch of keys and opened his employer's
desk. A big revolver lay in the top drawer. The old clerk quickly
removed the five cartridges and as deftly substituted a new set of
them in their stead. The new ones were minus the explosive power.
He grinned as he replaced the weapon and closed the desk. Dropping
the cartridges into his coat pocket, he returned to his own desk,
chuckling as he set to work on his papers.
"I won't betray him to the law, but I've fixed it so that he can't
escape it in that way."
Bansemer's man informed him upon his arrival home that Mr. Graydon
would not be in for dinner. He had left word that Mrs. Cable was
very much improved and that he and Miss Cable were going out for a
long drive-in a hansom. It was his intention to dine with Mr. and
Miss Cable, very informally.
Bansemer sat in surly silence for a long time, trying to read.
A fierce new jealousy was growing in his heart. It was gradually
dawning upon him that the Cables had alienated his son's affections
to no small degree. The fear grew upon him that Graydon ultimately
would go over to them, forgetting his father in the love for the
girl. Resentment, strong and savage, flooded his heart. He could
eat no dinner. He was full of curses for the fate which forced him
to dine alone while his son was off rejoicing with people whom he
was beginning to hate with a fervour that pained him. Jealousy,
envy, malice, fired his blood.
He went out and bought the evening papers. The thought came to him
that Graydon had heard the stories and was deliberately staying
away from him. Perhaps the Cables had been talking to him.
"By Heaven," he grated as he paused in front of his home, "if
she's turned him against me I'll turn this city into anything but
a paradise for her. What a fool I've been to wait so long. I've
given her the chance to tell her side of the case first. She's made
the first impression. What could I have been thinking of? Droom
was right. I should have demanded less of her. A man is never too
old to be a fool about women. Oh, if she's turned that boy against
me, I'll---"
He did not finish the threat, but started off swiftly through the
night toward the Cable home. He had no especial object in view;
it was simply impossible for him to conquer the impulse to be near
his son. Like a thief he lurked about the street in the vicinity
of Cable's house, standing in the shadows, crossing and recrossing
the street many times, always watching the lighted windows with
hateful eyes. It was after eight o'clock and the night was damp
with the first breath of spring. There was a slight chill in the
air, but he did not feel it, although he was without an overcoat.
The lights on the second floor, he knew, were in Mrs. Cable's room.
In his mind's eye, he could see Graydon there with the others
listening to the story as it fell from prejudiced, condemning lips--the
pathetic, persuasive lips of a sick woman. He knew the effect on
the chivalrous nature of his son; he could feel the coldness that
took root in his boy's heart.
A light mist began to blow in his face as he paced back and forth
along the short block in which the Cables lived. He was working
his imagination up to a state bordering on frenzy. In his fancy he
could hear Graydon cursing him in the presence of his accusers. At
the end of the street he could see the break in the sea wall where
Cable and his wife had met, and he could not help wishing that Droom
had not pulled her from the water. Then he found himself wondering
if they had told Jane the story of her origin. The hope that she
was still undeceived flashed through him; it would give him a chance
for sweet revenge.
He confessed to himself that he was reckless. The transactions of
the past few days had left him at the edge of the abyss; he recognised
his peril, but could not see beyond his own impulses.
"I believe I'll do it," he was muttering to himself as he paused
across the street from their door. "Graydon ought to hear both
sides of the story."
He crossed the street with hesitating steps. His thin coat collar
was buttoned close about his neck; his gloveless hands were wet and
cold from the mist. As he stopped at the foot of the stone steps
a man came hurrying along, glancing at the house numbers as he
approached.
"Do you know whether this is David Cable's house?" he asked.
Bansemer saw that he was a young man and an eager one.
"I think it is."
The other bounded up the steps and rang the bell. When the servant
opened the door Bansemer heard the new arrival ask for Cable, adding
that he was from one of the newspapers, and that he must see him
at once.
Bansemer stood stark and dumb at the foot of the steps. The whole
situation had rushed upon him like an avalanche. Harbert had filed
his charges and the hasty visit of the reporter proved that David
Cable was an instrument in them. The blood surged to his head; he
staggered under the shock of increased rage.
"Graydon is against me! They've won him over! Open the door, damn
you! I want my son!" He shouted the demand in the face of the
startled servant as he pushed rudely past him.
"You stay here, young fellow, and you'll hear a story that will
fill a whole paper. I am James Bansemer. Where is Cable? You!" to
the servant.
"Sh!" cried the frightened servant, recognising him. "Mrs. Cable
is resting, sir."
"What are you doing here?" Bansemer demanded of the reporter, exerting
all his crafty resourcefulness in the effort to calm himself.
"Cable has been elected president of the---" began the young man
just as Cable himself started down the stairway.
"Cable, where is my son?" demanded Bansemer loudly, starting toward
the steps. He had not removed his hat and was, indeed, an ominous
figure. Cable clutched the stair rail and glared down at him in
amazement. Before he could pull himself together sufficiently to
reply, Graydon Bansemer hurried past him and stared in alarm at
the unexpected figure below.
"What's the matter, dad?" he cried. "What has happened?"
"Aha? You think something could have happened, eh? Damn all of
their souls, you shan't be taken in by them. Come down here, boy!"
"Father, are you crazy?" gasped Graydon, rushing down the stairs.
"Get him away from here, Graydon, for God's sake," exclaimed Cable.
"Take him away! He's your father, but if he stays in this house a
minute longer I'll kill him!"
The man from the newspaper was shrewd enough to withdraw into a
less exposed spot. He saw a great "beat" in prospect.
Graydon stopped as if stunned by a blow. Bobby Rigby came running
to the head of the stairs, followed by Jane and another young woman.
James Bansemer could not have been expected to know it, but Rigby
and Miss Clegg had come to tell these friends that they were to be
married in December.
"Kill me, eh? Not if you can't do a better job than you did
the other night. Here, you reporter, ask Mr. Cable to explain the
mystery of that affair on the lake front. Oh, I know all about it!
You've started in to ruin me, but I'll be in on it myself. We'll
have a general cleaning up."
"Father! What are you talking about?" cried Graydon, aghast.
"They haven't told you about the lake front, eh? I should think
not! See him cringe!"
Cable had indeed fallen back against the wall, halfway up the steps,
white and trembling. His eyes were raised, and he was the first to
see Mrs. Cable as she came from her room.
"Go back!" he whispered hoarsely to her. She reached the banister
and leaned over, her eyes filling with terror after a swift glance
at Jane.
"Take Jane away," she murmured, realising that the blow was to
fall.
"I'll stop his infernal tongue!" shouted Cable, leaping down the
steps, his eyes blazing. James Bansemer laughed as he braced himself
for the shock. They did not come together, for Graydon threw his
big frame in the path of the assailant. For an instant there was a
frightful uproar. Rigby and the servant rushed to the young man's
assistance. The women were screaming with terror, the men were
shouting and there was a. violent struggle which played havoc in
the hallway.
"Call the police!" shouted Rigby.
"You infernal traitor!" hissed James Bansemer. "You claim to be
Graydon's friend, and yet you are the one who has led the plot to
ruin me."
"What does it all mean?" cried Graydon, holding; the shaking Cable
tightly.
There was a moment of intense silence, except for the heavy
breathing of the men. Graydon was staring wide-eyed at his father.
He saw the cruel, sardonic smile spread over his face and shuddered.
"I've simply come to take you out of the clutches of these people.
I've waited to see if that scheming woman, up there would tell
you of her own accord. She hasn't told you; so I will. You cannot
marry that girl, for your haughty Jane Cable is a child of shame,
picked up on a doorstep, cast off by the woman who conceived her!"
The crash had come. The heartless accuser stood like a tragic
player in the centre of his stage, pouring out his poison without
a touch of pity for the stricken girl who, after the first thrill
of indignation and horror, had shrunk back into her mother's arms,
bewildered.
"Call the police, if you like," laughed Bansemer, at the end of
his tirade. "It isn't a criminal offence to tell the truth. It will
sound just as well in court, Mr. Rigby."
"Jane, Jane," Mrs Cable was murmuring, "I might have saved you all
this, but I couldn't--oh, I couldn't pay the price."
"You snake!" groaned Cable, weak and hoarse with rage. "Jane, he
has lied! There is not a word of truth in what he says. I swear it
to you."
"Ho, ho! By Heaven, she hasn't told you, after all!" cried Bansemer.
"You still think she is yours!"
"Father!" exclaimed Graydon, standing straight before the other.
David Cable had dropped limply into a chair, his hand to his heart.
"I won't stand by and hear you any longer. Take back what you've
said about her, or, damn you, I'll forget that you are my father
and---"
"Graydon!" exclaimed Bansemer, falling back, his expression
changing like a flash. The smile of triumph left his face and his
lip twitched. "You forget I--I am doing this for your sake. My God,
boy, you don't understand. Don't turn from me to them. They have---"
"That's enough, father! Don't say another word! You've talked like
a madman. See! Look what you've done! Oh, Jane!" he caught sight
of the girl on the landing and rushed up to her.
"Is it true, Graydon--is it true?" she wailed, beating her hands
upon his arm.
"No! It can't be true! He's gone mad, dearest."
"Is it true, mother? Tell me, tell me!"
Frances Cable's white lips moved stiffly, but no sound came forth.
Her eyes spoke the truth, however. The girl sank limp and helpless
in Graydon's arms and knew no more. At the foot of the steps Rigby
was pointing his trembling finger at James Bansemer.
"You'll pay for this to-morrow!" he was saying. "Your day has come!
You cutthroat! You blackmailer!"
"Graydon!" called the father. "Come, let us go home. Come, boy!"
"Not now--not now," answered the son hoarsely. "I'll--I'll try to
come home to-night, father. I'm not sure that I can. My place is
here--with her."
Without a word James Bansemer turned and rushed out into the street,
tears of rage and disappointment in his eyes. He had not expected
the gall. Until the break of day he sat in his chill room waiting
for the rasp of his son's night key--but Graydon did not come home.