WHERE ALL MEN MEET
When Rimrock had caught the first train for New York he had thought it
was to seek out Mary Fortune--to kneel at her feet and tell her humbly
that he knew he had done her a wrong--but as the months went by and his
detectives reported no progress he forgot his early resolve. The rush
and excitement of that great gambling game that goes on in the Stock
Exchange, the plunges on copper and the rushes for cover, all the
give-and-take of the great chase; it picked him up as a great flowing
stream floats a leaf and hurries it along, and Gunsight and Tecolote
and the girl he had known there seemed far away, like a dream.
He was learning the game from the gamblers about him, all the ins and
outs of The Street; the names and methods of all the great leaders and
how they had won their success; and also, bold gambler that he was, he
was starting on a career of his own. In days gone by, at roulette or
faro, or in frontier poker games, he had learned to play with big
chances against him and, compared to them, Wall Street was safe. The
money that he staked was less than six months' earnings of his share of
the Tecolote Mine; and from the brief notes of L. W., who was acting as
his agent, there was more of it piling up. So he played it carelessly,
like the plunger he was, and fortune--and Mrs. Hardesty--smiled.
He won, on the Street; and, though the stakes were not specified, he
seemed to be winning with her. It was a question with him whether a
woman of her kind ever thought of such a thing as marriage. She had
money of her own, and all that money could buy; and her freedom,
whatever that was. In this new world about him all the terms of life
seemed changed and transposed and vague, and he never quite knew what
she meant. Every word that she said when they discussed life and love
seemed capable of a double intent, and whether by freedom she meant to
yield or to escape something he had never made out. All he knew was
that at times she seemed to beckon him on and at others to fend him
away. She was fickle as fortune which, as he plunged and covered,
sometimes smiled and again wore a frown.
But it was sparkling and stimulating as the champagne he now drank,
this new life with its win and lose, and he played his stakes with the
stoical repose of a savage, the delighted abandon of a boy. His broker
was always Buckbee, that gay, laughing Beau Brummel who had given him
his first start in the world. It was Buckbee who had met him when he
first came to the Waldorf with his assays and his samples of ore and,
after much telephoning and importuning and haggling, had arranged for
his interview with Stoddard. That interview had resulted in Rimrock's
first clash with Stoddard, and he had hated him ever since; for a man
who would demand a controlling interest in a mine for simply lending
his name was certainly one who was fully capable of grabbing the rest
if he could. So Rimrock had fought him; but for Buckbee, the broker,
he had nothing but the best of good will.
To be sure Buckbee worked for Stoddard--that was plainly made evident
at the time they had made the first deal--but he was open-hearted and
honest and generous with his tips, and Rimrock found they were good.
Buckbee even went further, he arranged credit for Rimrock at one of the
biggest banks and when in his plunges he was caught short of funds the
bank made him loans on his note. They took no chances, for he was
rated at millions as half owner of the Tecolote Mine, but it helped out
mightily as he extended his operations and found his margins
threatened. But all this buying and selling of stocks, the
establishment of his credit and the trying out of his strength, it was
all preliminary to that great contest to come when he would come out
into the open against Stoddard.
Whitney Stoddard was a man rated high up in the millions, but he was
fallible like the rest. His wealth, compared to Rimrock's was as a
hundred dollars to one, but it was spread out a hundred times as far;
and with his next dividend, which was due in December, Rimrock would
have nearly a million in cash. To Stoddard, at the same time, there
would come nearly the same amount of money, but it would be gone within
a few days. There were obligations to be met, as Rimrock well knew,
that would absorb his great profits and more. The Tecolote Mine,
before it began to pay, had cost several million dollars in dead work.
That money had been borrowed, and while Rimrock took in velvet,
Stoddard was obligated to pay his debts.
Several months went by and, patient Indian that he was, Rimrock still
followed on Stoddard's trail. He looked up his connections with the
Transcontinental railroad and there he made his first strike. Although
he moulded the policies of that great corporation and seemed endowed
with unlimited power his actual holdings in the stock of the company
were almost ridiculously small. Yet he took advantage of his
dominating position and the influence it gave him with the directors to
make such coups as he had made with the Tecolote, building the branch
line which had given value to his mine. As a business proposition it
was a good investment for the Company, but who was it that reaped the
big profits? By the investment of less than three million
dollars--which he had borrowed as he went along--Whitney Stoddard had
acquired practically a half interest in a property which he valued at a
hundred millions. And now he was bucking the Hackmeisters!
The thought of this man, who had come up from nothing and was even yet
barely on his feet, deliberately attempting to break the great copper
combine was hardly credible to Rimrock. He marveled now at the
presumption of Stoddard in offering him fifty millions for his half and
the control of the mine. From what he could gather Stoddard had never
possessed fifty millions, nor did he possess them then. He was trading
on his name and traveling on a shoestring; quite the common thing in
New York. But Rimrock knew as well as he knew anything that a man like
Stoddard was dangerous. As sure as the time came, by some hook or
crook, he would beat him out of his mine. The thing to do was to beat
him to it--to raid his newly acquired Navajoa stocks and then pinch him
until he let go of Tecolote. But it must be done secretly, not a word
to anybody, not even to Buckbee or Mrs. Hardesty. They were friends of
Stoddard's as well as his--it was safest to work alone.
So, while outwardly the same good-hearted plunger, Rimrock began his
campaign of revenge. It opened with a series of secret orders to
outside brokers that he knew and soon, by selling Navajoa short, he had
hammered the asking price down. Then he bought it in, a little at a
time, until the market began to rise; and then, vindictively, he
slaughtered it again and gathered in more at the bottom. Not for
nothing had he listened to Mrs. Hardesty and Buckbee and learned how
the market riggers worked, but neither to her nor to Buckbee did he so
much as hint of his purpose. His day would come when the Tecolote
dividend was voted, when he got his million dollar check; and the only
thing that could keep him from a notable revenge was some slip-up in
connection with the dividend.
In the continued absence of Mary Fortune, with her third and decisive
vote, it would be necessary for Rimrock to agree with Stoddard, to the
extent of dividing their profits. Not a great ways to go, even for men
who were sworn enemies, and Stoddard certainly needed the money. He
needed it badly, much worse than Rimrock, and would need it from time
to time; yet until Rimrock actually got his hands on the money it was
essential to conceal his plans. For a shrewd man like Stoddard, if he
got an inkling of his purpose, was perfectly capable of tying up their
profits and of stopping his credit at the bank. It was dangerous
ground and Rimrock trod it warily, buying Navajoa in the most
roundabout ways; yet month after month increased his holdings until his
credit at the bank was stretched. If they asked for collateral he
could turn over his Navajoa, although that would tip off his hand; but
his note was still good and he went in deeper as the date of the annual
meeting drew near.
There came a time when Buckbee asked shrewd questions and Mrs. Hardesty
took him playfully to task; but he carried it off by wise nods and
smiles and the statement that he knew something good. He was learning
the game and, to cover up his tracks, he joined the mad whirl of social
life. In place of his black sombrero and the high-heeled boots that
had given him his entree in New York he appeared one evening in a top
hat and dress suit, with diamonds glittering down the front of his
shirt. It was a new plunge for him, but Buckbee supplied the tailor
and Mrs. Hardesty launched his debut.
She had almost adopted him, this baffling, "free" woman, and yet she
still had her reserves. She went with him everywhere, but the
recherché suppers were almost a thing of the past. It was the opera
now, and the gayest restaurants, and dinners where they met
distinguished guests; but at the entrance of the St. Cyngia, when the
graven-faced doorman opened the door to let her pass, she had acquired
a way of giving Rimrock her hand without asking if he wouldn't come in.
She played him warily, for his nature was impetuous and might easily
lead him too far; but the time came at last when she found him
recalcitrant and insurgent against her will.
It was at the opera where, amid jewelled women and men in immaculate
attire, they had sat through a long and rather tedious evening during
which Mrs. Hardesty had swept the boxes with her lorgnette. Something
that she saw there had made her nervous and once in the cloakroom she
delayed. Rimrock waited impatiently and when at last she joined him he
forced his way aggressively into the slow-moving crowd and they were
swept on down the broad, marble stairs. Once a part of that throng,
there was no escaping its surge, and yet, as they drifted with the
rest, two great columns of humanity flowing together like twin brooks
that join in a river below, she clutched his arm and started back; but
the crowd swept her inexorably on. Then Rimrock caught her glance--it
was flashing across the foyer to the stream on the other side. He
followed it instinctively and there, tripping gracefully down the
stairway as he had seen her once before at Gunsight, was Mary Fortune,
his girl!
Yes, his girl! Rimrock knew it instantly, the girl he had always
loved. The One Woman he could love forever if fate would but give him
the chance. He started forward, but a hand restrained him; it was Mrs.
Hardesty at his side.
"Where are you going?" she asked and the slim, jewelled fingers closed
down on his hand like a vise.
"Let me go!" muttered Rimrock, as he struggled against her; but she
jerked him back to her side.
"Don't you dare to humiliate me!" she hissed into his ear, "don't you
dare to leave me--for her!"
"It's Mary!" mumbled Rimrock without taking his eyes from her and Mrs.
Hardesty tightened her grasp.
"If you do--I'll kill you!" she added dangerously; but Rimrock gave no
heed. He had forgotten all about her; forgotten she was there, the
dead weight that was holding him back; all he saw was Mary, more
radiant than ever, moving towards him down the stairs. She was dressed
in soft white and her glorious brown hair, that had before been crushed
down beneath its clasp, was fluffed out now in all its beauty; and she
talked and laughed as she came. At her side was an elderly,
distinguished gentleman who listened with an indulgent smile--and then
they were engulfed in the crowd. The mass of humanity that had swept
them down the stairway closed in and swallowed them up.
She was gone--but she was there--right there through the crowd--and
Rimrock started towards her. Mrs. Hardesty followed, dragged on by
main strength, and then resolutely she set her feet. The outraged
escorts of jostled ladies formed a solid phalanx against him and
Rimrock wheeled impatiently.
"Let go of my arm!" he commanded savagely and then he met her eyes. If
he had doubted before the nature of the tiger woman he could read it
now at a glance. She was choking with anger and her thin, even teeth
were bared as she hissed out her breath; and then she spoke, very
quietly:
"If you are a gentleman," she said in his ear, "you will not fail to
escort me home. Otherwise----"
She stopped, but the roll of her eyes conveyed a threat that went
beyond words. She was a tigress, after all, a woman of dark passions
and uncontrolled anger, a woman who beneath her languid grace had the
strength and the courage to strike. And now as she faced him the
mill-race of people surged against them and carried them on. They
moved with the crowd, there was no escape, and she lashed him with
bitter words. He listened, unchastened, his head held high, his eyes
still seeking for Mary; and as they plunged into the opposing currents
of the street, he met her, face to face.
The distinguished man was talking now and Mary was listening to what he
said; yet her eyes, that were accustomed to read from the lips, were
now free to look about. A swift, unbidden gladness leapt up into them
at first as she recognized Rimrock in the crowd; and then, quick as
lightning, she saw the other woman and the glad look went out of her
eyes. They flared up suddenly with the old anger and resentment and as
quickly took on a distant stare. Then they turned to her escort and as
Rimrock was shoved past them he heard her answer him pleasantly. It
was just a word, only a fraction of a word, and then Mrs. Hardesty
broke in. What she said fell again upon unheeding ears, but Rimrock
knew it was harsh. Harsh and threatening and yet with an undertone of
passion that thrilled him against his will.
He found himself in a gliding auto' with the street lights twinkling
past, and there he came out of his dream.
"What's the matter with you?" he asked at last as he discovered her
still walking on and she burst into hysterical tears.
"What's the matter!" she echoed, "why, can't you see? I'm in love with
you--that's what's the matter! Oh, I hate that woman! She's a cruel
thing--didn't you see the way she looked at me? But I'll pay her back,
I'll get even with her yet! Ah, my God, how I hate the sight of her!"
She fell to weeping and Rimrock, silenced, drew away and left her
alone. Then the automobile stopped and through the glass they could
see the imposing entrance of the St. Cyngia. The chauffeur reached
back and threw open the door and Rimrock leapt quickly out, but Mrs.
Hardesty did not follow. She sat in the half-darkness, composing her
hair and working swiftly to cover the traces of tears; and when she
stepped out she was calm.
"Excuse me," she whispered as he led her towards the door, "I didn't
mean what I said. But I do love you, Rimrock, in spite of myself,
and--won't you come in for a moment?"
They stood at the entrance and the Sphinxlike doorman opened the door
to let them pass. Outside it was cold and from the portals there came
forth a breath of warm air, but for the first time Rimrock held back.
"No, thank you very much," he said, bowing formally, and turned quickly
back towards the car. She watched him a moment, then drew her cloak
about her and hurried in swiftly through the door.