*CHAPTER XXIV*
*GRETCHEN DECIDES*
Lawrence Berkely was doing scout duty in the neighborhood of the seat ofwar, keeping closely in touch with Wray by wire code. Although he had aroom at the Brown Palace Hotel, he went elsewhere for his meals, andsince the arrival of General Bent's party he had eluded the detection ofCornelius Bent, Curtis Janney, or Cortland. He had been advised by abrief wire from Gretchen Janney of the date of her departure from NewYork and had noted the arrival of his business enemies with mingledfeelings. In response to his note to her room Gretchen had stolen awayand met him quietly in one of the hotel parlors, where, unknown toCurtis Janney, they had renewed their vows of eternal fidelity.
Gretchen was, of course, familiar with Larry's position as a businessrival of her father's pet company, and she had thought it best, sinceLarry's departure from New York, to keep their engagement a secret fromher parents. She had heard from him regularly, and distance, it seemed,had made no difference in the nature of her feelings for him, but sheknew from her father's disappointment at Cortland Bent's defection thatthe time to take her parents into her confidence had not yet arrived.
It had not occurred to Curtis Janney to think of Lawrence Berkely'sattentions seriously, but Gretchen knew that her mother, at least, hadbreathed a sigh of relief when Larry had left New York. Mrs. Janney hadquestioned her daughter anxiously, but Gretchen had answered in riddles,and in the end had succeeded in convincing her that marriage was thelast thing in the world she was thinking of. Gretchen was a littleafraid of her father. Once or twice he had expressed himself ratherfreely as to the kind of man he expected his daughter to marry, fromwhich it was clear that his list of eligibles did not include LawrenceBerkely. She had written all of this tearfully to Larry, so that whenshe reached Denver he decided that matters had reached a crisis whichdemanded some sort of an understanding with Janney pere. Theclandestine meetings, which rather appealed to Gretchen's sense of theromantic, made Larry unhappy. He had nothing to be ashamed of and sawno reason why he had to court the woman he loved under cover ofdarkness. So he made up his mind to settle the thing in his own way.
In this crisis it had occurred to Gretchen to enlist Mrs. Cheyne'sservices in their behalf, for Rita had always been a favorite of herfather's; but an evening or two after her arrival in Denver that ladyhad mysteriously disappeared from the hotel, only leaving word that shehad gone to visit friends in the neighborhood and would advise GeneralBent of her future plans. No one but Larry, with whom she had beentalking, had for a moment suspected that the "friends" in theneighborhood were only Jeff, and, though she had not bound Larry tosecrecy, both duty and discretion demanded his silence.
Larry's position was difficult, but when he discovered that nothing wasto be gained by keeping his movements hidden from Cornelius Bent he tookthe bull by the horns and boldly sent up his card to Curtis Janney'ssuite. He was so full of his own affairs that Mr. Janney's possiblemisconception of the object of his visit had not occurred to him. Hewas welcomed cordially--so jovially, in fact, that for a moment he wastaken off his guard.
"Well, Berkely, by George! glad to see you. Rather a surprise to find usall out here invading your own country, eh?"
Larry sat rather soberly, refused a cigar, and expressed well-bredsurprise.
"I can't imagine anybody wanting to leave Braebank in April," he said.
"Well, I didn't want to, Berkely--I'm doing a little scientific farmingthis summer--but we had to come out on this smelter business--theGeneral and I----" He stopped and puffed rapidly at his cigar. "It'stoo bad--really--I'm sorry, sorry, but I think Wray made a mistake. Ilike Wray, Berkely. He's got stuff in him, but he overleaped himself inthis smelter business. It's a pity he thought he had to fight us, butyou've got to admit we gave him every chance."
"I didn't come to see you about the smelter business, Mr. Janney," saidBerkely rather quietly, "but on a matter of my own--a personal--aprivate matter."
Janney's face grew grave.
"A private matter?"
"Yes, sir." Larry closed his lips firmly for a moment, and then came tothe point without further words. "Mr. Janney, I suppose I should havespoken to you before I left New York. Our business relations seemed tomake it difficult. But the very fact that we can't be friends inbusiness makes it necessary for me, at least, to be honest with you inthis other matter."
"What on earth are you driving at?"
"I want to marry your daughter, sir, that's all," said Larry with thesuddenness of desperation.
"Gretchen? My daughter?" Janney said, explosively. He rose, with onehand on the back of his chair, and glared at Larry as though he doubtedhis sanity. "You want to marry Gretchen?" Then he laughed--and Larrydiscovered in that laugh wherein Janney and General Bent had points ofcontact. Janney took three long strides to the window, then wheeledsuddenly. "You must be crazy. My daughter--marry _you_?"
Larry had risen and met Janney's impertinent scrutiny with some dignity.
"Yes, sir; I'm not aware of anything in my family, my connections, myprospects, or my character which can be found objectionable. Yourdaughter cares for me----"
"Why, you insolent young fortune-hunter!"
"Wait a moment!" and Larry's voice dominated. "You'll speak to me as onegentleman does to another--or you'll not speak to me at all." He tookup his hat from the table, and then, more evenly, "I take it, you refuseyour consent?"
By this time Curtis Janney's usual poise had completely deserted him.
"Refuse--my consent? Well, rather!"
He went to the door through which Berkely had entered. But instead ofopening the door Janney turned and put his back to it.
"See here, young man, you don't like my language. Perhaps you'll like itless when I'm through talking. Colorado seems to breed big ambitions. Iknow nothing of your family and care less. But I do know something ofyour prospects. Inside of forty-eight hours you won't have prospects ofany kind. You're going to be blotted out. Do you understand? I've madeother plans for my daughter--and I'm not in the mood to listen to anysilly romantic nonsense from her or any far-sighted propositions fromyou. Your proposal is impudent sir, d--d impudent--the proposition of adesperate man who, failing to win by fair means----"
"Will you open the door, sir?" said Larry, now white with rage. "Ifnot, I'll find means to open it myself." He took a step forward, andthe two men glared into each other's eyes not a pace apart. There was nomistaking Larry's determination, and Mr. Janney's surprise was manifest.This was not the manner of the fortune-hunters he had met. Somewhatuncertainly he stood aside, and Berkely put his hand on the door-knob.
"I did you an honor in consulting you, sir. It's a pity you couldn'tappreciate it. In the future I'll act on my own initiative. Goodafternoon."
And, before the older man had even realized what the words meant, Larryhad opened the door and was gone. He hurried down the corridor, stilltrembling at the meaning of Janney's insults, which had touched hisSouthern pride. For Gretchen's sake it would have been better if hecould have kept himself under control, and he realized that he had lostevery chance of getting Curtis Janney's permission and approval. Butthat did not daunt him. He had acquitted his mind of a responsibility,and he was glad that in the future there could be no misunderstanding.If he could not marry Gretchen with the approval of her family, he wouldmarry her without it.
Halfway up the block above the hotel on Seventeenth Street Larrystopped, able for the first time to review more calmly the incidents ofthe last half hour. What was it Curtis Janney had said about hisprospects? In forty-eight hours he would be wiped off the earth. Thatmeant Jeff, too. He had a sudden guilty sense of shock, that in hisselfish absorption in his own affairs he had for the moment forgottenJeff and the business of the Company. Forty-eight hours! That wasimportant information--and Janney had let it slip in anger--there was nodoubt about that. What did it mean? That all the Amalgamated Company'swire
s were laid, and the only thing left was to touch the button whichwould blow the Wray interests to pieces?
It looked that way, and yet Larry still hoped. The rails of the SaguacheShort Line would be joined to those of the D. & C. to-morrow. Muchdepended on Symonds. Larry hurried over to the offices of the Denverand California and emerged later with a look of satisfaction. Symondswas still General Manager and was still loyal. Within thirty-six hours,at his orders, a locomotive and one passenger car from the D. & C. yardsat Pueblo would carry Clinton, Symonds, Mulrennan, Judge Weigel, andother stockholders of the Development Company from Pueblo over the lineto Saguache, establishing their connection at Pueblo in accordance withJeff's agreements with the road. It would take some queer constructionof the law for Jeff's enemies to get around that. Larry knew that itmeant a long fight, one which lack of money might lose in the end, buthe assured himself that he could establish a nice legal point whichwould be worth fighting for. The calling of Jeff's loans by the bankswas a more dangerous matter. Larry had hoped that this could have beenarranged, but only a small amount of the money had been forthcoming, andwhere Jeff was going to raise the rest of it Providence only knew!
When Larry reached his room at the hotel he found a brief note fromGretchen:
"I have heard about everything. I shall never speak to father again.You must marry me at once, Larry. I can't stand the suspense anylonger. Mother is here with me, but I'm going to get away somehow. Meetme at the Shirley at ten o'clock."
Larry smiled and kissed the penciled scrawl rapturously. "God blessyou, I'll do it--Gretchen, dear," he said to himself.
That was a busy evening for Larry. It was six o'clock when he wrote aline to Gretchen and rang for a page, to whom he gave carefulinstructions--also, some money. Then he sat at his desk and with hiscode sent a long wire to Jeff. At half-past six he was dressingcarefully in the intervals between packing a suit case and 'phoning to alegal friend of his, Dick Wetherall, about a minister and a license. Atseven-thirty he dined with Wetherall. At eight he received RitaCheyne's mysterious wire. At nine he found the cashier of the TenthNational Bank at his home and planned for the taking up of theDevelopment Company's notes and arranging to deposit Mrs. Cheyne's moneyto Jeff Wray's account on the following morning. At ten he met Gretchenat the Shirley Hotel, and, at half-past ten, had married her.
* * * * *
In response to Larry's first telegram and speeding eastward on the earlytrain, Jeff Wray read all this astonishing news in the sheaf oftelegrams handed him at the station by Ike Matthews. His brow lifted,and the hard lines at his mouth relaxed in a smile. Good old Larry! Hetried to conjure a vision of Curtis Janney's face as he heard the news.Larry was carrying the war into the enemy's camp with a vengeance.
It took Jeff longer to decipher the second telegram:
"Mrs. Cheyne has arranged with her Denver agents--deposit eight hundredthousand dollars your credit Tenth National to-morrow morning. Awaitinstructions."
It seemed incredible. When had Rita done this? The grim lines that hislong night's vigil had seared at the corners of his mouth grew deeper,but his eyes glowed with a sombre fire. There was still an even chanceto win--for Larry was holding the fort awaiting reinforcements, and RitaCheyne had restored the break in Jeff's line of communication. Theastonishing information in Larry's last wire seemed to clear his mind ofthe doubts which had assailed it all night long. The possibility ofsuccess now gave his own affairs a different complexion. He could neverhave told the truth to General Bent (Jeff couldn't think of him as afather) unless he won the fight for the independence of the SaguacheSmelter. Jeff was no man to come cringing in the hour of failure at thefeet of his enemy, asking immunity on the strength of such arelationship as that which existed between them. It had been clear toJeff all night long that if he lost his fight he could never faceGeneral Bent with the truth. That was the real bitterness of defeat.
But if he won? The long years of dishonor through which he hadstruggled, without a name, without kindred, without friends, loomedlarge before him--mute, merciless years of struggle, privation, andemptiness. If he won, there was more than one victory to be gained inthis fight, a moral victory as well as a physical one--the triumph of aneternal truth, the vindication of a forgotten wrong. If he won he wouldtell General Bent the truth--not as a son to a father, but as onemerciless enemy to another, asking no quarter and giving none.
The only connection for Kinney at Saguache was with the later train, butJeff had arranged for a motor-car which took him over the Pass andlanded him at Kinney in time for the twelve o'clock train for Denver,where he arrived at six o'clock that evening. Larry met him at thestation, smiling broadly.
"I think we've put a spoke in their wheel, Jeff," he laughed. "But wemust keep dark. To-morrow morning when the banks open you're going totake up that stock, then we're going to call on the General."
"Is everything all right?"
"Yes, Symonds is standing pat, but they don't know it. The new GeneralManager comes in to-morrow, but Symonds's orders will go through first.That train will run, Jeff--sure."
"Poor old Larry! a fine honeymoon you're having! Where's your wife?"
"At the Wetherall Ranch. Went out there last night. Her mother hasbeen out to see her. It looks as though they might come around. It'stoo bad I had to go against them just now, but Mr. Janney forced myhand, and I had to. You understand, don't you, Jeff?" And, explainingas they went, Berkely followed Jeff out of the station, into a motor-carthat was awaiting them.