Morton and Carrington were just finishing their low-toned, but very
animated, conference at the end of the drawing-room, when their
attention, together with that of Cicily, was attracted by a noise at the
door. All three looked up, to see Hamilton striding into the room.
Behind him came Delancy. At a gesture of warning from his wife, Hamilton
faced about, and saw his two business foes.
"Well, well, I didn't know that you were here," he exclaimed, with a
fair showing of cordiality, as he advanced, and shook hands with the
visitors. Delancy contented himself with bowing to each in turn, then
went to Cicily, and asked for a cup of tea. During the few moments spent
in offering this hospitality, Cicily whispered rapidly to the old
gentleman, who appeared mightily startled at her words.
"Mrs. Hamilton has been entertaining us again," Morton remarked, in an
acid tone, to his host. "Really, she has been rather more interesting
than she was before."
At this statement, Hamilton shifted uneasily. He turned an indignant
stare on his wife, wondering dismally what new imbroglio had been
precipitated by her lack of restraint.
"Oh, you needn't look at me in that fashion," Cicily objected, with a
pout. "I didn't say anything this time, either. I only told them about
our winning the strike, and--"
"What!" Hamilton brought out the word like a pistol-shot.
"Surely, you couldn't mind my telling them that," Cicily said, in a
voice suspiciously demure. "And that's all I told them, except--"
"Except what?" Hamilton fairly shouted.
"Why, except about the contracts to do the work for the independents at
fifteen cents--that's all."
"You--you told them that!" the astounded husband gasped. He whirled
toward Morton. "Why, it isn't so, Mr. Morton--not a word of it! You must
realize that it isn't--that it couldn't be so."
Morton, however, was not convinced by the earnestness of the young man's
repudiation. Instead, he looked his host up and down with a sneering
scrutiny that was infinitely galling.
[Illustration]
"I see," he said harshly, "that you're just like your father before
you. He could always manage to contrive some way by which to accomplish
his ends, without being over-troubled with scruples. Only, he would
never have confided his business secrets to a woman."
Hamilton turned reproachful eyes on his wife.
"Cicily," he cried entreatingly, "I want you to tell Mr. Morton--"
But that resourceful woman interrupted him. Her face showed a shocked
amazement, as she spoke swiftly:
"Charles, do you mean that you want me to--?" She did not finish the
sentence; but the inference was so plain that Morton did not hesitate to
make use of it.
"Trying to make your wife lie for you won't do any good, Hamilton," he
advised, disagreeably.
But, if Hamilton had been perplexed before, he was now suddenly dazed by
the inexplicable conduct of Delancy, who advanced nimbly from the
tea-table, caught Hamilton by the arm, and drew him apart a little. He
spoke hurriedly, in a low voice, but intentionally pitched so that
Morton could overhear.
"It's no good, my boy," he declared, warningly. "You see, the fact of
the matter is, you're caught--caught with the goods on, as the police
say. And, when you're caught with the goods, don't waste time in lying.
It makes a bad business worse, that's all." Having uttered these
extraordinary words of advice to his marveling nephew, the old gentleman
turned jauntily on the seething Morton. "Well, what are you going to do
about it?" he demanded, composedly.
Morton, frantic over the trickery that, as he believed, had been
attempted against him, made no pretense of suavity in this emergency. In
his vindictiveness, he spoke with a candor unusual to him in his
business dealings.
"Do?" he rasped. "I'll show you mighty quick what I'll do! You seem to
forget, Hamilton, that we have a contract with you. You are under
agreement with us to put all your work out for us at eleven cents a
box."
Hamilton would have entered a violent protest against any purpose of
evading his obligations; but Delancy silenced the young man by an
imperative gesture, and took it on himself to reply, bearing in mind
the whispered directions of his niece. He addressed Morton in a
condescending fashion that was unspeakably annoying to that important
personage.
"I never heard of any such contract," he declared blandly, "and I have a
bit of money invested in the plant, too.... Has he one, Charles?"
"He has a verbal one," Hamilton answered, more and more bewildered by
the progress of affairs. "He wouldn't give a written one."
"Huh! A verbal agreement!" Delancy sniffed. "Well, Morton, may I ask how
you are going to work to prove this verbal agreement?"
"We'll show that he did the work at that price," was the aggressive
answer. "That will suffice."
"Very good," Delancy said, judicially. "Only, Morton, I venture to
predict that you can't prove your verbal contract--not by any manner of
means.... Who was with you at the time when that verbal agreement was
made between you and Hamilton, as you allege?"
Carrington, who had been almost as greatly puzzled over the course of
affairs as was Hamilton, now perceived something that was definitely
within his own knowledge.
"Mr. Morton and I were together," he vouchsafed.
"And, so, you met the two Hamilton partners?" Delancy queried.
Both Morton and Carrington denied that the wife had been present at the
interview.
"I have an idea," Delancy continued imperturbably, "that Mrs. Hamilton
here would be quite willing to go on the stand and swear that she was
present at the interview with her husband, to which you have referred.
From something she has let drop to me, I have a very strong impression
to this effect." There was a whimsicality in the old gentleman's tone
that none save his niece marked.
"But I tell you," Carrington vociferated, "she wasn't there!"
"I hardly see what that has to do with it," Cicily interpolated
languidly, from her place at the tea-table. "I remember it all quite
perfectly." There was a smothered ejaculation from Morton, which sounded
almost profane; Carrington's eyes were widely rounded as he stared at
his hostess. "Yes," she went on, her musical voice gently casual in its
modulations, "I remember it so well, because it was the day
after--after--oh, well, after something or other! I shall remember what
presently. And I wore--"
"Never mind all that," Delancy interrupted. "It doesn't matter what you
wore, or whether you wore anything, or not."
"Uncle Jim," Cicily cried, horrified. On this occasion, the emotion in
her voice was wholly genuine.
But Delancy was in a combative mood, and eager to get on with the fight
toward which he had been guided involuntarily by the whispered
instructions of his niece.
"Morton," he inquired briskly, "have you read those recent decisions of
Bischoff's on unfair contracts?" Then, as the other shook his head in
sullen negation, the old gentleman went on complacently: "Well, I
have--every word! Incidentally, the last one was against myself, so,
naturally, I took a rather keen interest. Especially, as the Court of
Appeals has just sustained it.... It happens, therefore, that I know
what I'm talking about."
"If it's fight you want, you'll get it--more than you want, I fancy,"
Morton growled. "We'll put the price down to nine cents, and break you."
"You might as well put your price down to eight cents, while you're
about it," Delancy retorted, with a chuckle. "You see, your price won't
really matter a particle to us, since we have a fair--notice, please,
that I said fair--contract at fifteen cents for five years, with a
privilege of renewal at the same terms. Oh, yes, put your price down to
eight cents, by all means!"
Carrington's face turned purple, as he heard the fleering announcement
of his rival's success, and Morton betrayed signs of a consuming
anxiety.
"Have you such a contract?" he questioned, more mildly than he had
spoken hitherto.
Delancy turned to face Hamilton, and put the question bluntly.
"Have we, Charles?" There was no reply forthcoming from the distracted
young man, only a burst of sardonic laughter. It seemed to him clear
that everyone had gone mad together. Quickly, then, the old gentleman
directed the question to his niece. "Have we, Mrs. Partner?"
"You bet we have!" Cicily answered on the instant, inelegantly, but with
convincing emphasis.
A faint ray of illumination stole into the mental blackness of
Hamilton. Under its influence, he addressed Morton with a half-sneer:
"Do you think any man would have the nerve to try bluffing on a thing
like that?" In his thoughts there was a forceful emphasis on the word
"man," but he carefully avoided letting it appear in the spoken word.
There followed a lengthy and acrimonious debate among the men, to which
Cicily listened with an air of half-amused, half-bored tolerance. She
was, in fact, thrilling with delight over her inspiration, which had at
last come after such long waiting. She felt an intuitive conviction that
her ruse would win the battle for her husband's success. She need worry
no more over the powerlessness of her women allies to bend the husbands
to their will. Hereafter, she would retain the friendship of those
worthy women, but without any ulterior object beyond their own welfare.
It appealed to her as vastly more fitting that triumph should come from
duping these men, who were her husband's enemies, who would have ruined
him by their schemes, but for her intervention with a woman's wiles
where man's vaunted sagacity had proved itself utterly at fault. The
sincerity of her belief had sufficed in a minute to win the cooeperation
of Uncle Jim, that most determined opponent to woman's intrusion on
business affairs. He had listened to her suggestion at the tea-table, at
first with scornful displeasure over her venturing an opinion of any
sort on business. Then, as he comprehended the purport of her scheme,
his instinct for finesse had caused him to seize on it impetuously, to
act upon it immediately.... Surely, Cicily thought, since Uncle Jim had
been won over, there remained only the working out of details to insure
a glorious victory--her victory for Charles!
She aroused herself from her abstraction with a start of alarm as she
heard Morton crying out defiance.
"I tell you," he was saying heatedly, "those independent people have
contracts with us. All this plotting of yours is just damned
foolishness--I beg your pardon, Mrs. Hamilton." The enraged capitalist
flushed with new annoyance, for he prided himself greatly on the
elegance of his manners, and it horrified him that he should have so far
forgotten himself as to swear in the presence of a lady. "But they've
no place in business anyhow!" he thought to himself consolingly.
"Oh, don't mention it!" Cicily answered, with an air of unconcern. To
herself, she was reflecting amusedly on how much greater than the
offender knew was his discourtesy toward herself, since she it was who
was the author of that "damned foolishness" to which he had so feelingly
referred.
But Delancy had no time to fritter away on niceties of etiquette.
"Oh, no, Morton!" he scoffed. "Johnson of the independents told me that
you never gave them contracts, except for each lot. You see, that's how
we got in on the deal."
"Yes, that's how we got in," Cicily echoed, in a gentle murmur. There
was an infinity of satisfaction in her voice.
"We'll make them break with you," Carrington shouted, roughly.
"Just try it!" taunted Hamilton, who, at last, found himself embarked on
this mad adventure in chicanery.
"I have five millions in negotiable securities," Delancy added. "I'm
willing to spend every penny of it in 'busting' you, if you try it."
Hamilton now took up the argument, with a spirit that delighted the
listening wife. It was evident to her that he had grasped the
significance of her deceit, and was enthusiastic in following it up to
the best of his ability.
"So," he said to Morton, "you fancy that you can make the independents
leave us! Well, you'll learn your mistake presently. Do you suppose for
a minute that they'll pass us up, when we offer a fair contract for
fifteen cents, to deal with you, after you've just put the price up to
twenty-two? Nonsense!"
Morton raised an imperatively restraining hand as Carrington was about
to splutter some threat. Of a sudden, the diplomatic man of affairs
resumed his gracious, suave bearing; and his voice was agreeably
modulated when he spoke:
"Gentlemen, it seems to me that we're arguing a great deal, needlessly.
Now, you know, both of you, that I always liked old Charley Hamilton.
Well, as a matter of fact, I'm delighted to discover that his son here
has the same quality of business ability. So, my boy, why shouldn't you
come in with us? There's ample future for brains with us.... Of course,
I'm saying this on the supposition that everything is just as you have
represented it." The cold caution of the man of business cropped out in
the concluding sentence.
"Make a proposition," Hamilton directed, curtly.
"Well," Morton replied, speaking with thoughtful deliberation, "we might
take over a controlling interest in your factory for, say, two hundred
and fifty thousand."
"Such an offer as that is merely a joke," was Hamilton's contemptuous
retort.
"What do you think it's worth?"
"Conservatively, a million."
"Oh, absurd!" Morton exclaimed, reprovingly; but his voice retained its
pleasant quality. "Dear me! Youth is so hasty! Now, my boy, the truth is
that you know your factory isn't worth anything like that sum."
"I suspect that you have forgotten five fat years of prospective
profits." There came a groan from Carrington at this reference, and
Morton's face lost for a moment its wheedling amiability. But the
latter's discomfiture was of the briefest, if one might judge by
appearance.
"Is a million your lowest figure?" he demanded. Then, as a nod of assent
from the owner answered his question, he added: "And a sixty-days'
option goes with your offer?"
Hamilton, however, had other conditions to impose.
"If you take over the control," he asked, "do I stay in charge as
president and manager? I must stipulate for that."
"Oh, well," Morton agreed graciously, "the brain that could pull off
this deal ought to be of some use to us.... All right, my boy."
At this final statement from the magnate, Cicily could not forbear a
subdued ripple of laughter. "The brain that could pull off this
deal"--oh, splendid! Who now would dare deny that she was a partner in
very truth, a partner worth while!... Then, her inspiration again urged
her on. She was beset with feverish impatience, as the four men dallied
tediously over their adieux. When, at last, the visitors were safely out
of the house, the young wife bore down like a whirlwind on Delancy. She
could not waste even a word on Hamilton yet.
"Quick! Quick!" she commanded. The red in her cheeks was deeper than it
had been for weary weeks; her eyes shot fires of eagerness; her delicate
fingers clutched the old gentleman's arm in a grasp so earnest that he
winced from the pain of it.
"Eh, what?" he demanded, confused by the violence of her onslaught.
"Oh, do hurry, Uncle Jim!" Cicily cried. "The telephone--Johnson!"
"Good heavens, yes!" Delancy exclaimed, instantly aroused to the
exigencies of the situation, while Hamilton stared blankly at the two
conspirators. "I should say so! I've got to get hold of Johnson."
"He's on the wire by this time, I'm sure," Cicily announced. "While you
were getting rid of those men, I sent Watson to call him up."
"Bully, Cicily!" Hamilton shouted, in irrepressible enthusiasm. For the
first time, he had spoken honest praise of his wife's business ability,
and the soul of the woman was filled with a glorious triumph.
Delancy was already on his way toward the telephone in the hall. But he
turned to speak his mind:
"Why on earth don't your Aunt Emma have ideas like that," he
questioned, resentfully; "practical ideas?"
"Perhaps she has," Cicily replied, accusingly. "But you would never
listen." There was no answer beyond an unintelligible grunt from the old
gentleman.
"Hurry! Uncle Jim!" Hamilton urged, in his turn. "And do your best. If
Johnson's with us, the deal will go through. He's never gone back on his
word, and he controls the independents."
"Yes, boy," Delancy cried over his shoulder, as he vanished through the
doorway, "if he's with us, we--your wife--wins!"
"Anyhow," Hamilton soliloquized, "win or lose, it's a great game!"
Then, he turned to regard his wife, with eyes in which amazement vied
with admiration.