Floyd-Rosney could scarcely restrain his fury when the papers were
served upon him. The whole subject had grown doubly distasteful because
of its singular connection with his domestic concerns. He could not fall
to so poor spirited a plane as to imagine that his wife preferred
another man--he was too ascendant in his own estimation to harbor the
thought. Logic, simple, plain common sense, forbade the conclusion. She
had thrown this man over for him years ago at the first summons. He did
not esteem his wealth as the lure; it was only an incident of his other
superlative advantages. She had not seen the discarded lover since, yet
from the moment of the appearance of the facsimile brother was
inaugurated a change in her manner, her conversation, the very look in
her eyes, which he could not explain, except as the result of old
associations which he did not share, antagonistic to his interest and
his domestic peace.
She had very blandly explained on the first opportunity, volunteering
the communication, indeed, the mystery of the return of the key--an old
_gage d’amour_, a trifle--the slightness of which he mentally conceded,
for he had large ideas in _bijouterie_. She did not wish to keep it, nor
to send it back without explanation; in fact, she was not willing to
return it at all except in her husband’s presence.
“Dear me, you need not have been so particular,” he declared
cavalierly. “A matter of no importance.”
She had magnified it in her fear of him till it loomed great and
menacing. She felt cheapened and crestfallen by his manner of receiving
the disclosure. Yet he had marked the occurrence, she was sure; he had
resented it--though he now flouted it as a trifle. This added to her
respect for him, and it riveted the fetters in which he held her.
The inauguration of the suit to rip up and annul the ancient
foreclosure, the many irritating questions as to whether the lapse of
time could be pleaded in bar of the remedy, whether disabilities could
be brought forward to affect the operation of the statute of
limitations, what line of attack would be pursued by the Ducie brothers,
all wrought him almost to a frenzy. He could scarcely endure even
canvassing with his lawyers the points of his adversary’s position. Any
intimation of the development of possible strength on their part
affected him like the discovery of disloyalty in his counsel. More than
once the senior of these gentlemen saw fit to explain that this effort
to probe the possibilities, to foresee and provide against the maneuvers
of the enemy, to weigh the values in their favor, was not the result of
conviction, but merely to ascertain the facts in the case.
The counsel, in closer conference still, closeted together, canvassed in
surprise and disaffection the difficulty of handling their client, and
the best method of avoiding rousing from his lair the slumbering lion of
his temper. It was a case involving so much opportunity of distinction,
of professional display, as well as heavy fees, that they were loath to
risk public discomfiture because Mr. Floyd-Rosney was prone to gnash his
teeth at a mere inquiry which bore upon one of the many sensitive points
with which the case seemed to bristle. He was as prickly as a porcupine,
and to stroke him gently required the deftness of a conjurer. At the
most unexpected junctures this proclivity of sudden rage, of
unaccountable discomfiture broke forth, amazing and harassing the
counsel, who, with all their perspicacity, could not perceive, lurking
in the background of Floyd-Rosney’s consciousness, the mirage of his
wife’s ancient romance, more especially as he himself could not justify
its formulation on the horizon.
As Floyd-Rosney was accustomed to handle large business interests and
was ordinarily open to any proposition of a practical nature,
conservative in his views, and close and accurate in his calculation of
chances, his attitude in this matter mystified his co-adjutors, who had
had experience hitherto in his affairs and were versed in his peculiar
characteristics. The legal firm had come to avoid speaking of any point
that might redound to the advantage of the opponent, unless, indeed,
there was some bit of information necessary to secure from Floyd-Rosney.
Thus matters had been going more smoothly, save that he was wont to come
to the conferences with his counsel bearing always a lowering brow and a
smoldering fire in his surly, brown eyes. It flared into open flame when
one day Mr. Stacey, the senior counsel, observed:
“They will, doubtless, call Mrs. Floyd-Rosney.”
The client went pale for a moment, then his face turned a deep purplish
red. Twice he sought to speak before he could enunciate a word.
“Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,” he sputtered at length. “As their witness? It is
monstrous! I will not suffer it! It is monstrous!”
“Oh, no; not at all.”
Mr. Stacey had a colorless, clear-cut face of the thin, hatchet-like
type. His straight hair, originally of some blonde hue, had worn sparse,
and neither showed the tint of youth nor demanded the respect due to the
bleach of age. It seemed wasted out. He was immaculately groomed and was
very spare; he looked, somehow, as if in due process of law he had been
ground very sharp, and had lost all extraneous particles. There seemed
nothing of Mr. Stacey but a legal machine, very cleverly invented, and,
as he sat in his swivel chair, his thin legs crossed, he turned a bit
from his desk, intently regarding Mr. Floyd-Rosney, who was thrown back
in a cushioned armchair beside him, flanked by the great waste-paper
basket, containing the off-scourings of the lawyer’s desk. Mr. Stacey’s
light gray eyes narrowed as he gazed,--he was beginning to see into the
dark purlieus of his client’s reasonless conduct.
“Mrs. Floyd-Rosney is perfectly competent to testify in the case.” Mr.
Stacey wore a specially glittering set of false teeth which made no
pretense to nature, but gave effect to his clear-clipped enunciation.
“Her deposition will certainly be taken by them.”
“As against her husband?” foamed Floyd-Rosney in vehement argument. “She
can be introduced _by_ her husband to testify in his behalf, but not
_against_ him, except in her own interest, as you know right well.”
“That incompetency is limited to the Mississippi law as regards third
persons, in the case of husband and wife. But in the proceedings in
reference to the Tennessee property the local statutes will obtain,--she
can testify against her husband’s interest and, in my opinion, will be
constrained to do this.” After this succinct, dispassionate statement
Mr. Stacey paused for a moment; then, in response to Floyd-Rosney’s
stultified bovine stare, as in speechless amazement, he went on with a
tang of impatience in his tone. “Why, you know, of course, there is a
bit of Tennessee property involved,--that small business house in South
Memphis,--I forget, for the moment, the name of the street. You are
aware that in the foreclosure proceedings nearly forty years ago the
plantation and mansion house of Duciehurst were bid in for the estate of
the mortgagee, but as the amount of the highest bid at the sale did not
equal the indebtedness in the shrunken condition of real estate values
at that time, the executors pursued and subjected other property of the
mortgagor for the balance due, this Tennessee holding being a part of
it, and the Ducies now contend that the debt having been previously
fully satisfied and paid in full, this whole proceeding was null and
void from the beginning. They bring suit for all in sight. Mrs.
Floyd-Rosney can testify in their interest under the Tennessee
statutes.”
Floyd-Rosney sprang up and strode across the room, coming flush against
the waste-paper basket as he threw himself once more into his chair,
overturning the papers and scattering them about the floor. He took no
notice of them, but the tidy Stacey glanced down at the litter, though
with an inscrutable eye.
“Oh, I’ll get her out of the country. They shall not have her testimony.
They shall not call her as their witness. She has been wanting a trip to
the Orient--she shall go--at once--at once!”
Mr. Stacey very closely and critically examined a paper knife that had
been lying on the table. Then, putting it down, he rejoined, without
looking at Floyd-Rosney, who was scarcely in case to be seen, the veins
of his forehead swollen and stiff, his face apoplectically red, his eyes
hot and angry: “They can have her deposition taken in a foreign
country.”
“If they can find her,” said Floyd-Rosney in prophetic triumph. “But
they would not take the time for that.”
“Why, you don’t reflect,” said the lawyer very coolly, “the cause may
not come to trial for two or three years. In view of the usual delays,
continuances and the like, you could not expatriate her for that length
of time.”
Floyd-Rosney’s face was a mask of stubborn conviction as he replied:
“The Ducies will want to race the matter through. They claim that they
and their predecessors have been wrongfully kept out of their own for
forty years. They will think that is long enough. _I_ won’t make delays.
The question is a legal one, and can be decided on the jump--yes or no.
The case can come to trial at the April term of the court, and by that
time Mrs. Floyd-Rosney will be in Jerusalem or Jericho.”
“This will damage your position in the case, Mr. Floyd-Rosney,” urged
the lawyer. “I think, myself, that it is a particularly valuable point
for you that it should be your wife, who, at considerable risk and in a
very dramatic manner, discovered and secured these family jewels and
papers, knowing what they were and that they threatened the title of her
husband, and restored them to the complainants. It proves your good
faith in your title--the foreclosure of the mortgage in ignorance of the
outstanding release. Your wife as their witness is a valuable witness
for us, and the motives of your contention being thus justified there
remains nothing but the question of title to come before the court.”
“All that rigamarole can be proved by other witnesses,” said
Floyd-Rosney doggedly. “There were twenty people who saw her come
bouncing down the stairs with the box and give it to Adrian Ducie.”
There is a species of anger expressed in unbecoming phraseology. Mr.
Stacey made no sign, but the words “rigamarole,” applied to his own
lucid prelection, and “bouncing” to the gait of the very elegant Mrs.
Floyd-Rosney, did not pass unnoted.
“I am sure the case on neither side can be ready for the April
term,--the docket is crowded and there is always the possibility of
continuances.”
“There are to be no continuances on our side,” declared Floyd-Rosney,
both glum and stubborn; “I don’t choose that my wife shall testify in
their interest. She goes to the Orient, and stays there till the
testimony is all in and the case closed.”