As I drew near the shipping-office, I saw the light was still burning
bright, and the window-blinds, though drawn, allowed it to stream
through the space between them and the sash. Few business houses in this
section have lights burning at night. I stopped a moment to consider
what to do. Of course it was none of my business what took place between
Brown and Anderson, but, as the young man had served with me as an
officer and had acquitted himself thoroughly, I felt some interest and I
might confess also a bit of curiosity. I had heard enough to know that
there was something irregular with the business of Brown going out with
me on that fateful voyage. I believed him innocent of any wrong-doing,
but, as it had been Mr. Ropesend himself who had sent him, I was not
certain. A young man might do many things which would get him into
trouble and still not be a very bad sort of chap. I had committed
several little acts in my day that I would not care to repeat, but I
never held that I was a great villain because of them. Ignorance and
temptation are factors which the tolerant and trained observer of events
must take into consideration. I’ve always noticed that the man who is
quick to condemn is quick to commit crime.
Crime is the practical application of selfishness and the unselfish man
does not condemn his fellow. I was prepared to hear Brown own up to some
foolish speculation which involved the firm’s finances, and I went
boldly to the side door, the door which opened into the room in which I
had seen them talking but a short time before.
Knocking loudly, I listened for further developments. There were sounds
of a scuffle, then panting and shuffling of feet, as when men are
struggling in desperate encounter. A loud crash followed this, and then
there was a cessation of noises, but the panting breaths of the men
continued.
“It’s Gore, let me in,” I cried, pounding again upon the panels and
putting the whole weight of my shoulder upon the door.
“I can’t get up, he has me down,” gasped Brown from somewhere within.
“What’s the matter?” I bawled. “Open the door.”
Anderson, probably seeing that I would force an entrance directly, went
to the latch, and in a moment I entered the room. Brown was in the act
of rising from the floor. He greeted me with a knowing look.
“Well, what’s the trouble?” I asked.
Anderson gave a deprecatory gesture with both hands and sat down at the
desk. He evidently had nothing to say. Brown hesitated while he regained
his composure. Then he spoke.
“You know what I went to sea for,” he began, “you know that I was
accused of appropriating the firm’s money--”
He stopped a moment, and I nodded.
“Yes,” I said, “I had heard something to that effect.”
“Well, here is the culprit,” said he, and pointed to Anderson.
“I always thought as much,” I said, with some feeling, and as I spoke
the man at the table turned upon me.
“See here, Gore,” said he, “you are not wanted in this affair, my
father--Mr. Ropes--” Here he stopped a moment.
“He doesn’t know, but as long as you have begun, you might as well tell
him all,” said Brown. “Mr. Ropesend is Mr. Anderson’s father, and you
will doubtless incur the wrath of the firm if you meddle with this, so
you might just as well go.”
“I’ll go if you say so,” I said, “but it looked as though murder was
being done when I broke in,” and for the life of me I could not help the
following question, “And Miss Anderson is not your sister, then?”
“Thank God, no, she is not,” put in Brown.
“Mr. Ropesend will not care to have any of his sailing-masters taking
part in this affair,” said Anderson, coldly. “What you have heard you
can keep to yourself. If you don’t you will probably suffer the
consequences. Now you can get out, for Mr. Brown and I will settle this
matter before we leave here to-night.”
“I fail to see how we can settle it without you making good and
confessing everything,” said Brown. “There is hardly room in the firm
for both of us, and I’m tired of going to sea.”
Anderson rose from his chair. He was cool and collected, but something
in his manner made me think he was on the point of collapse.
“You had better go, Mr. Gore,” said he, quietly. “There will be no more
disturbance, I forgot myself just before you arrived, and I thank you
for coming when you did. You can go without fear of any harm to Mr.
Brown. Good-bye.”
He held out his hand and I took it. His fingers were cold and, although
he was a large and powerful fellow, he shook visibly when I let go.
“Good night,” I said, and turned to the door.
“Good night, Gore,” said Brown. “I have your word not to talk about
anything you have seen or heard.”
“Yes,” I answered, “good night.” And I went forth.