The Judge's choler got the better of his uneasiness. "You're a pretty
one to come ordering me around!" he broke out. "You slanderer, do you
suppose I haven't heard how you're going about traducing me,
undermining my character in this community, spreading scandals that I
am the real owner of Beaver Beach--"
"It can easily be proved, Judge," Joe interrupted, quietly, "though
you're wrong: I haven't been telling people. I haven't needed to--even
if I'd wished. Once a thing like that gets out you can't stop
it--ever! That isn't all: to my knowledge you own other property worse
than the Beach; I know that you own half of the worst dens in the town:
profitable investments, too. You bought them very gradually and
craftily, only showing the deeds to those in charge--as you did to Mike
Sheehan, and not recording them. Sheehan's betrayal of you gave me the
key; I know most of the poor creatures who are your tenants, too, you
see, and that gave me an advantage because they have some confidence in
me. My investigations have been almost as quiet and careful as your
purchases."
"You damned blackmailer!" The Judge bent upon him a fierce, inquiring
scrutiny in which, oddly enough, there was a kind of haggard
hopefulness. "And out of such stories," he sneered, "you are going to
try to make political capital against the Tocsin, are you?"
"No," said Joe. "It was necessary in the interests of my client for me
to know pretty thoroughly just what property you own, and I think I do.
These pieces I've mentioned are about all you have not mortgaged. You
couldn't do that without exposure, and you've kept a controlling
interest in the Tocsin clear, too--for the sake of its influence, I
suppose. Now, do you want to hear any more, or will you agree to meet
me at Miss Tabor's this evening?"
Whatever the look of hopefulness had signified, it fled from Pike's
face during this speech, but he asked with some show of contempt, "Do
you think it likely?"
"Very well," said Joe, "if you want me to speak here." And he came a
little closer to him. "You bought a big block of Granger Gas for Roger
Tabor," he began, in a low voice. "Before his death you sold
everything he had, except the old house, put it all into cash for him,
and bought that stock; you signed the check as his attorney-in-fact,
and it came back to you through the Washington National, where Norbert
Flitcroft handled it. He has a good memory, and when he told me what
he knew, I had him to do some tracing; did a little myself, also.
Judge Pike, I must tell you that you stand in danger of the law. You
were the custodian of that stock for Roger Tabor; it was transferred in
blank; though I think you meant to be 'legal' at that time, and that
was merely for convenience in case Roger had wished you to sell it for
him. But just after his death you found yourself saddled with
distillery stock, which was going bad on your hands. Other
speculations of yours were failing at the same time; you had to have
money--you filed your report as administrator, crediting Miss Tabor
with your own stock which you knew was going to the wall, and
transferred hers to yourself. Then you sold it because you needed
ready money. You used her fortune to save yourself--but you were
horribly afraid! No matter how rotten your transactions had been, you
had always kept inside the law; and now that you had gone outside of
it, you were frightened. You didn't dare come flat out to Miss Tabor
with the statement that her fortune had gone; it had been in your
charge all the time and things might look ugly. So you put it off,
perhaps from day to day. You didn't dare tell her until you were
forced to, and to avoid the confession you sent her the income which
was rightfully hers. That was your great weakness."
Joe had spoken with great rapidity, though keeping his voice low, and
he lowered it again, as he continued: "Judge Pike, what chance have
you to be believed in court when you swear that you sent her twenty
thousand dollars out of the goodness of your heart? Do you think SHE
believed you? It was the very proof to her that you had robbed her.
For she knew you! Do you want to hear more now? Do you think this is
a good place for it? Do you wish me to go over the details of each
step I have taken against you, to land you at the bar where this poor
fellow your paper is hounding stands to-day?"
The Judge essayed to answer, and could not. He lifted his hand
uncertainly and dropped it, while a thick dew gathered on his temples.
Inarticulate sounds came from between his teeth.
"You will come?" said Joe.
Martin Pike bent his head dazedly; and at that the other turned quickly
from him and went away without looking back.
Ariel was in the studio, half an hour later, when Joe was announced by
the smiling Mr. Warden. Ladew was with her, though upon the point of
taking his leave, and Joe marked (with a sinking heart) that the young
minister's cheeks were flushed and his eyes very bright.
"It was a magnificent thing you did, Mr. Louden," he said, offering his
hand heartily; "I saw it, and it was even finer in one way than it was
plucky. It somehow straightened things out with such perfect good
nature; it made those people feel that what they were doing was
ridiculous."
"So it was," said Joe.
"Few, under the circumstances, could have acted as if they thought so!
And I hope you'll let me call upon you, Mr. Louden."
"I hope you will," he answered; and then, when the minister had
departed, stood looking after him with sad eyes, in which there dwelt
obscure meditations. Ladew's word of farewell had covered a deep look
at Ariel, which was not to be mistaken by Joseph Louden for anything
other than what it was: the clergyman's secret was an open one, and Joe
saw that he was as frank and manly in love as in all other things.
"He's a good fellow," he said at last, sighing. "A good man."