Mr. Blake, the elderly financier whom all were ready to recognize as
the chief guest there. With an apologetic glance at Mr. Hammersley, the
impetuous young millionaire who had first proposed this embarrassing
procedure, he advanced to an empty side-table and began, in a quiet,
business-like way, to lay on it the contents of his various pockets.
As the pile rose, the silence grew, the act in itself was so simple,
the motive actuating it so serious and out of accord with the standing
of the company and the nature of the occasion. When all was done, he
stepped up to Mr. Sedgwick, with his arms raised and held out from his
body.
“Now accommodate me,” said he, “by running your hands up and down my
chest. I have a secret pocket there which should be empty at this time.”
Mr. Sedgwick, fascinated by his look, did as he was bid, reporting
shortly:
“You are quite correct. I find nothing there.”
Mr. Blake stepped back. As he did so, every eye, suddenly released
from his imposing figure, flashed towards the immovable Clifford, to
find him still absorbed by the action and attitude of the man who
had just undergone what to him doubtless appeared a degrading ordeal.
Pale before, he was absolutely livid now, though otherwise unchanged.
To break the force of what appeared to be an open, if involuntary,
self-betrayal, another guest stepped forward; but no sooner had he
raised his hand to his vest-pocket than Clifford moved, and in a high,
strident voice totally unlike his usual tones remarked:
“This is all--all--very interesting and commendable, no doubt. But
for such a procedure to be of any real value it should be entered
into by all. Gentlemen”--his rigidity was all gone now and so was his
pallor--“I am unwilling to submit myself to what, in my eyes, is an act
of unnecessary humiliation. Our word should be enough. I have not the
coin--” Stopped by the absolute silence, he cast a distressed look into
the faces about him, till it reached that of Mr. Sedgwick, where it
lingered, in an appeal to which that gentleman, out of his great heart,
instantly responded.
“One _should_ take the word of the gentleman he invites to his house.
We will excuse you, and excuse all the others from the unnecessary
ceremony which Mr. Blake has been good enough to initiate.”
But this show of favor was not to the mind of the last-mentioned
gentleman, and met with instant reproof.
“Not so fast, Sedgwick. I am the oldest man here and I did not feel it
was enough simply to state that this coin was not on my person. As to
the question of humiliation, it strikes me that humiliation would lie,
in this instance, in a refusal for which no better excuse can be given
than the purely egotistical one of personal pride.”
At this attack, the fine head of Clifford rose, and Darrow, remembering
the girl within, felt instinctively grateful that she was not here to
note the effect it gave to his person.
“I regret to differ,” said he. “To me no humiliation could equal that
of demonstrating in this open manner the fact of one’s not being a
thief.”
Mr. Blake gravely surveyed him. For some reason the issue seemed no
longer to lie between Clifford and the actual loser of the coin, but
between him and his fellow guest, this uncompromising banker.
“A thief!” repeated the young man, in an indescribable tone full of
bitterness and scorn.
Mr. Blake remained unmoved; he was a just man but strict, hard to
himself, hard to others. But he was not entirely without heart.
Suddenly his expression lightened. A certain possible explanation of
the other’s attitude had entered his mind.
“Young men sometimes have reasons for their susceptibilities which the
old forget. If you have such--if you carry a photograph, believe that
we have no interest in pictures of any sort to-night and certainly
would fail to recognize them.”
A smile of disdain flickered across the young man’s lip. Evidently it
was no discovery of this kind that he feared.
“I carry no photographs,” said he; and, bowing low to his host, he
added in a measured tone which but poorly hid his profound agitation,
“I regret to have interfered in the slightest way with the pleasure
of the evening. If you will be so good as to make my excuses to the
ladies, I will withdraw from a presence upon which I have made so poor
an impression.”
Mr. Sedgwick prized his coin and despised deceit, but he could not let
a guest leave him in this manner. Instinctively he held out his hand.
Proudly young Clifford dropped his own into it; but the lack of mutual
confidence was felt and the contact was a cold one. Half regretting his
impulsive attempt at courtesy, Mr. Sedgwick drew back, and Clifford
was already at the door leading into the hall, when Hammersley, who by
his indiscreet proposition had made all this trouble for him, sprang
forward and caught him by the arm.
“Don’t go,” he whispered. “You’re done for if you leave like this.
I--I was a brute to propose such an asinine thing, but having done so
I am bound to see you out of the difficulty. Come into the adjoining
room--there is nobody there at present--and we will empty our pockets
together and find this lost article if we can. I may have pocketed it
myself, in a fit of abstraction.”
Did the other hesitate? Some thought so; but, if he did, it was but
momentarily.
“I cannot,” he muttered; “think what you will of me, but let me go.”
And dashing open the door he disappeared from their sight just as light
steps and the rustle of skirts were heard again in the adjoining room.
“There are the ladies. What shall we say to them?” queried Sedgwick,
stepping slowly towards the intervening curtains.
“Tell them the truth,” enjoined Mr. Blake, as he hastily repocketed his
own belongings. “Why should a handsome devil like that be treated with
any more consideration than another? He has a secret if he hasn’t a
coin. Let them know this. It may save some one a future heartache.”
The last sentence was muttered, but Mr. Sedgwick heard it. Perhaps that
was why his first movement on entering the adjoining room was to cross
over to the cabinet and shut and lock the heavily paneled door which
had been left standing open. At all events, the action drew general
attention and caused an instant silence, broken the next minute by an
ardent cry:
“So your search was futile?”
It came from the lady least known, the interesting young stranger whose
personality had made so vivid an impression upon him.
“Quite so,” he answered, hastily facing her with an attempted smile.
“The gentlemen decided not to carry matters to the length first
proposed. The object was not worth it. I approved their decision.
This was meant for a joyous occasion. Why mar it by unnecessary
unpleasantness?”
She had given him her full attention while he was speaking, but her eye
wandered away the moment he had finished and rested searchingly on the
other gentlemen. Evidently she missed a face she had expected to find
there, for her color changed and she drew back behind the other ladies
with the light, unmusical laugh women sometimes use to hide a secret
emotion.
It brought Mr. Darrow forward.
“Some were not willing to subject themselves to what they considered an
unnecessary humiliation”, he curtly remarked. “Mr. Clifford--”
“There! let us drop it,” put in his brother-in-law. “I’ve lost my coin
and that’s the end of it. I don’t intend to have the evening spoiled
for a thing like that. Music! ladies, music and a jolly air! No more
dumps.” And with as hearty a laugh as he could command in face of the
somber looks he encountered on every side, he led the way back into the
music-room.
Once there the women seemed to recover their spirits; that is, such as
remained. One had disappeared. A door opened from this room into the
main hall and through this a certain young lady had vanished before the
others had had time to group themselves about the piano. We know who
this lady was; possibly, we know, too, why her hostess did not follow
her.
Meanwhile, Mr. Clifford had gone upstairs for his coat, and was
lingering there, the prey of some very bitter reflections. Though he
had encountered nobody on the stairs, and neither heard nor saw any
one in the halls, he felt confident that he was not unwatched. He
remembered the look on the butler’s face as he tore himself away from
Hammersley’s restraining hand, and he knew what that fellow thought
and also was quite able to guess what that fellow would do, if his
suspicions were farther awakened. This conviction brought an odd and
not very open smile to his face, as he finally turned to descend the
one flight which separated him from the front door he was so ardently
desirous of closing behind him for ever.
A moment and he would be down; but the steps were many and seemed to
multiply indefinitely as he sped below. Should his departure be noted,
and some one advance to detain him! He fancied he heard a rustle in
the open space under the stairs. Were any one to step forth, Robert
or-- With a start, he paused and clutched the banister. Some one had
stepped forth; a woman! The swish of her skirts was unmistakable. He
felt the chill of a new dread. Never in his short but triumphant career
had he met coldness or disapproval in the eye of a woman. Was he to
encounter it now? If so, it would go hard with him. He trembled as he
turned his head to see which of the four it was. If it should prove to
be his hostess-- But it was not she; it was Darrow’s young friend, the
pretty inconsequent girl he had chatted with at the dinner-table, and
afterwards completely forgotten in the events which had centered all
his thoughts upon himself. And she was standing there, waiting for him!
He would have to pass her,--notice her,--speak.
But when the encounter occurred and their eyes met, he failed to
find in hers any sign of the disapproval he feared, but instead a
gentlewomanly interest which he might interpret deeply, or otherwise,
according to the measure of his need.
That need seemed to be a deep one at this instant, for his countenance
softened perceptibly as he took her quietly extended hand.
“Good-night,” she said; “I am just going myself,” and with an
entrancing smile of perfect friendliness, she fluttered past him up the
stairs.
It was the one and only greeting which his sick heart could have
sustained without flinching. Just this friendly farewell of one
acquaintance to another, as though no change had taken place in his
relations to society and the world. And she was a woman and not a
thoughtless girl! Staring after her slight, elegant figure, slowly
ascending the stair, he forgot to return her cordial greeting. What
delicacy, and yet what character there was in the poise of her spirited
head! He felt his breath fail him, in his anxiety for another glance
from her eye, for some sign, however small, that she had carried the
thought of him up those few, quickly mounted steps. Would he get it?
She is at the bend of the stair; she pauses--turns, a nod--and she is
gone.
With an impetuous gesture, he dashed from the house.
In the drawing-room the noise of the closing door was heard, and
a change at once took place in the attitude and expression of
all present. The young millionaire approached Mr. Sedgwick and
confidentially remarked:
“There goes your precious coin. I’m sure of it. I even think I can
tell the exact place in which it is hidden. His hand went to his left
coat-pocket once too often.”
“That’s right. I noticed the action also,” chimed in Mr. Darrow, who
had stepped up, unobserved. “And I noticed something else. His whole
appearance altered from the moment this coin came on the scene. An
indefinable half-eager, half-furtive look crept into his eye as he saw
it passed from hand to hand. I remember it now, though it didn’t make
much impression upon me at the time.”
“And I remember another thing,” supplemented Hammersley in his anxiety
to set himself straight with these men of whose entire approval he was
not quite sure. “He raised his napkin to his mouth very frequently
during the meal and held it there longer than is usual, too. Once he
caught me looking at him, and for a moment he flushed scarlet, then
he broke out with one of his witty remarks and I had to laugh like
everybody else. If I am not mistaken, his napkin was up and his right
hand working behind it, about the time Mr. Sedgwick requested the
return of his coin.”
“The idiot! Hadn’t he sense enough to know that such a loss wouldn’t
pass unquestioned? The gem of the collection; known all over the
country, and he’s not even a connoisseur.”
“No; I’ve never even heard him mention numismatics.”
“Mr. Darrow spoke of its value. Perhaps that was what tempted him. I
know that Clifford’s been rather down on his luck lately.”
“He? Well, he don’t look it. There isn’t one of us so well set up.
Pardon me, Mr. Hammersley, you understand what I mean. He perhaps
relies a little bit too much on his fine clothes.”
“He needn’t. His face is his fortune--all the one he’s got, I heard
it said. He had a pretty income from Consolidated Silver, but that’s
gone up and left him in what you call difficulties. If he has debts
besides--”
But here Mr. Darrow was called off. His niece wanted to see him for
one minute in the hall. When he came back it was to make his adieu
and hers. She had been taken suddenly indisposed and his duty was to
see her immediately home. This broke up the party, and amid general
protestations the various guests were taking their leave when the whole
action was stopped by a smothered cry from the dining-room, and the
precipitate entrance of Robert, asking for Mr. Sedgwick.
“What’s up? What’s happened?” demanded that gentleman, hurriedly
advancing towards the agitated butler.
“Found!” he exclaimed, holding up the coin between his thumb and
forefinger. “It was standing straight up between two leaves of the
table. It tumbled and fell to the floor as Luke and I were taking them
out.”
Silence which could be felt for a moment. Then each man turned and
surveyed his neighbor, while the women’s voices rose in little cries
that were almost hysterical.
“I knew that it would be found, and found here,” came from the hallway
in rich, resonant tones. “Uncle, do not hurry; I am feeling better,”
followed in unconscious näiveté, as the young girl stepped in, showing
a countenance in which were small signs of indisposition or even of
depressed spirits.
Mr. Darrow, with a smile of sympathetic understanding, joined the
others now crowding about the butler.
“I noticed the crack between these two leaves when I pushed about the
plates and dishes,” he was saying. “But I never thought of looking in
it for the missing coin. I’m sure I’m very sorry that I didn’t.”
Mr. Darrow, to whom these words had recalled a circumstance he had
otherwise completely forgotten, anxiously remarked: “That must have
happened shortly after it left my hand. I recall now that the lady
sitting between me and Clifford gave it a twirl which sent it spinning
over the bare tabletop. I don’t think she realized the action. She was
listening--we all were--to a flow of bright repartee going on below us,
and failed to follow the movements of the coin. Otherwise, she would
have spoken. But what a marvel that it should have reached that crack
in just the position to fall in!”
“It wouldn’t happen again, not if we spun it there for a month of
Sundays.”
“But Mr. Clifford!” put in an agitated voice.
“Yes, it has been rather hard on him. But he shouldn’t have such keen
sensibilities. If he had emptied out his pockets cheerfully and at the
first intimation, none of this unpleasantness would have happened.
Mr. Sedgwick, I congratulate you upon the recovery of this valuable
coin, and am quite ready to offer my services if you wish to make Mr.
Clifford immediately acquainted with Robert’s discovery.”
“Thank you, but I will perform that duty myself,” was Mr. Sedgwick’s
quiet rejoinder, as he unlocked the door of his cabinet and carefully
restored the coin to its proper place.
When he faced back, he found his guests on the point of leaving. Only
one gave signs of any intention of lingering. This was the elderly
financier who had shown such stern resolve in his treatment of Mr.
Clifford’s so-called sensibilities. He had confided his wife to the
care of Mr. Darrow, and now met Mr. Sedgwick with this remark:
“I’m going to ask a favor of you. If, as you have intimated, it is your
intention to visit Mr. Clifford to-night, I should like to go with
you. I don’t understand this young man and his unaccountable attitude
in this matter, and it is very important that I should. Have you any
objection to my company? My motor is at the door, and we can settle
the affair in twenty-minutes.”
“None,” returned his host, a little surprised, however, at the
request. “His pride does seem a little out of place, but he was among
comparative strangers, and seemed to feel his honor greatly impugned by
Hammersley’s unfortunate proposition. I’m sorry way down to the ground
for what has occurred, and cannot carry him our apologies too soon.”
“No, you cannot,” retorted the other shortly. And so seriously did he
utter this that no time was lost by Mr. Sedgwick, and as soon as they
could get into their coats, they were in the motor and on their way to
the young man’s apartment.
Their experience began at the door. A man was lolling there who told
them that Mr. Clifford had changed his quarters; where he did not know.
But upon the production of a five-dollar bill, he remembered enough
about it to give them a number and street where possibly they might
find him. In a rush, they hastened there; only to hear the same story
from the sleepy elevator boy anticipating his last trip up for the
night.
“Mr. Clifford left a week ago; he didn’t tell me where he was going.”
Nevertheless the boy knew; that they saw, and another but smaller bill
came into requisition and awoke his sleepy memory.
The street and number which he gave made the two well-to-do men
stare. But they said nothing, though the looks they cast back at the
second-rate quarters they were leaving, so far below the elegant
apartment house they had visited first, were sufficiently expressive.
The scale of descent from luxury to positive discomfort was proving a
rapid one and prepared them for the dismal, ill-cared-for, altogether
repulsive doorway before which they halted next. No attendant waited
here; not even an elevator boy; the latter for the good reason that
there was no elevator. An uninviting flight of stairs was before them!
and on one the few doors within sight a simple card showed the name of
the occupant.
Mr. Sedgwick glanced at his companion.
“Shall we go up?” he asked.
Mr. Blake nodded. “We’ll find him,” said he, “if it takes all night.”
“Surely he cannot have sunk lower than this.”
“Remembering his get-up, I do not think so. Yet who knows? Some mystery
lies back of his whole conduct. Dining in your home, with this to come
back to! I don’t wonder--”
But here a thought struck him. Pausing with his foot on the stair, he
turned a flushed countenance towards Mr. Sedgwick. “I’ve an idea,” said
he. “Perhaps--” He whispered the rest.
Mr. Sedgwick stared and shook his shoulders. “Possibly,” said he,
flushing slightly in his turn. Then, as they proceeded up, “I feel like
a brute, anyway. A sorry night’s business all through, unless the end
proves better than the beginning.”
“We’ll start from the top. Something tells me that we shall find him
close under the roof. Can you read the names by such a light?”
“Barely; but I have matches.”
And now there might have been witnessed by any chance home-comer the
curious sight of two extremely well-dressed men pottering through the
attic hall of this decaying old domicile, reading the cards on the
doors by means of a lighted match.
And vainly. On none of the cards could be seen the name they sought.
“We’re on the wrong track,” protested Mr. Blake. “No use keeping this
up,” but found himself stopped, when about to turn away, by a gesture
of Sedgwick’s.
“There’s a light under the door you see there untagged,” said he. “I’m
going to knock.”
He did so. There was a sound within and then utter silence.
He knocked again. A man’s step was heard approaching the door, then
again the silence.
Mr. Sedgwick made a third essay, and then the door was suddenly
pulled inward and in the gap they saw the handsome face and graceful
figure of the young man they had so lately encountered amid palatial
surroundings. But how changed! how openly miserable! and when he saw
who his guests were, how proudly defiant of their opinion and presence.
“You have found the coin,” he quietly remarked. “I appreciate your
courtesy in coming here to inform me of it. Will not that answer,
without further conversation? I am on the point of retiring and--and--”
Even the hardihood of a very visible despair gave way for an instant as
he met Mr. Sedgwick’s eye. In the break which followed, the older man
spoke.
“Pardon us, but we have come thus far with a double purpose. First,
to tender our apologies, which you have been good enough to accept;
secondly, to ask, in no spirit of curiosity, I assure you, a question
that I seem to see answered, but which I should be glad to hear
confirmed by your lips. May we not come in?”
The question was put with a rare smile such as sometimes was seen on
this hard-grained handler of millions, and the young man, seeing it,
faltered back, leaving the way open for them to enter. The next minute
he seemed to regret the impulse, for backing against a miserable table
they saw there, he drew himself up with an air as nearly hostile as one
of his nature could assume.
“I know of no question,” said he, “which I feel at this very late hour
inclined to answer. A man who has been tracked as I must have been for
you to find me here, is hardly in a mood to explain his poverty or
the mad desire for former luxuries which took him to the house of one
friendly enough, he thought, to accept his presence without inquiry as
to the place he lived in or the nature or number of the reverses which
had brought him to such a place as this.”
“I do not--believe me--” faltered Mr. Sedgwick, greatly embarrassed
and distressed. In spite of the young man’s attempt to hide the
contents of the table, he had seen the two objects lying there--a piece
of bread or roll, and a half-cocked revolver.
Mr. Blake had seen them, too, and at once took the word out of his
companion’s mouth.
“You mistake us,” he said coldly, “as well as the nature of our errand.
We are here from no motive of curiosity, as I have before said, nor
from any other which might offend or distress you. We--or rather
I--am here on business. I have a position to offer to an intelligent,
upright, enterprising young man. Your name has been given me. It was
given me before this dinner, to which I went--if Mr. Sedgwick will
pardon my plain speaking--chiefly for the purpose of making your
acquaintance. The result was what you know, and possibly now you can
understand my anxiety to see you exonerate yourself from the doubts
you yourself raised by your attitude of resistance to the proposition
made by that headlong, but well-meaning, young man of many millions,
Mr. Hammersley. I wanted to find in you the honorable characteristics
necessary to the man who is to draw an eight thousand dollars a year
salary under my eye. I still want to do this. If then you are willing
to make this whole thing plain to me--for it is not plain--not wholly
plain, Mr. Clifford--then you will find in me a friend such as few
young fellows can boast of, for I like you--I will say that--and where
I like--”
The gesture with which he ended the sentence was almost superfluous, in
face of the change which had taken place in the aspect of the man he
addressed. Wonder, doubt, hope, and again incredulity were lost at last
in a recognition of the other’s kindly intentions toward himself, and
the prospects which they opened out before him. With a shamefaced look,
and yet with a manly acceptance of his own humiliation that was not
displeasing to his visitors, he turned about and pointing to the morsel
of bread lying on the table before them, he said to Mr. Sedgwick:
“Do you recognize that? It is from your table, and--and--it is not the
only piece I had hidden in my pockets. I had not eaten in twenty-four
hours when I sat down to dinner this evening. I had no prospect of
another morsel for to-morrow and--and--I was afraid of eating my
fill--there were ladies--and so--and so--”
They did not let him finish. In a flash they had both taken in the
room. Not an article which could be spared was anywhere visible. His
dress-suit was all that remained to him of former ease and luxury. That
he had retained, possibly for just such opportunities as had given
him a dinner to-night. Mr. Blake understood at last, and his iron lip
trembled.
“Have you no friends?” he asked. “Was it necessary to go hungry?”