CHAPTER II
ONE WOMAN WHO DARED
These two men, the banker who had weathered so many financial stormsof "the street" and had inevitably issued from the wreckage unscathedand buoyant, and the young multi-millionaire who faced him withuplifted hand even after the former returned to his chair, were exactopposites in everything save wealth alone. Roderick Duncan, son andheir of Stephen Langdon's former partner, was the possessor, byinheritance, of one of those colossal fortunes which are expressed inso many figures that the average man ceases to contemplate theirmeaning. Nevertheless, Duncan had kept himself clean and straight. Inperson, he was tall, handsome, distinguished in appearance, andgenuinely a fine specimen of young American manhood. The older manregarded him with undoubted approval, and affection, too, while Duncanlowered the partly uplifted arm, and permitted the anger to die out ofhis face slowly. But there remained a decidedly troubled expression inhis gray eyes, and there were two straight lines between hisbrows--lines of anxiety which would not disappear, wholly. He wasplainly perplexed and, also, as plainly frightened by the almosttragic climax that had just occurred.
The elder man, whose face was always a mask save when he was alonewith his daughter, or with this young man who now stood before him,had been at first angered by the words and conduct of Patricia. Butthe exclamation uttered by the young Croesus impressed himludicrously, notwithstanding the financial straits he was supposed tobe in, and he grinned broadly into the anxious face that glowered uponhim. Langdon's heart was not at stake; he had no woman's love to lose,or even to risk losing; and so far as the financial character of histroubles was concerned, he knew that Roderick Duncan would provide themillions he needed, in any case. That fact was not dependant upon anywhim of Patricia's. Langdon could afford to laugh, believing that therupture in the relations of these young people would be healedquickly. The old man did desire that the two should marry; he wishedit more than anything else, save possibly the winning of his "street"contests.
It was the younger man who broke the silence. He did it first bystriking a match on the sole of his shoe and lighting a cigar; then bycrossing to one of the chairs at the oblong table, into which heliterally threw himself; and as he did this, he exclaimed, with anexpression of petulance that might have belonged to a boy better thanto a man:
"Well, you've made a mess of it, haven't you? You have got us bothinto a very devil of a fix. I ought to have shot you, or myself,before I consented to such a fool plan as that one was. Oh, yes; we'rein a fix all right!"
"How so?" asked the old man, rising and selecting a chair at theopposite side of the table, and calmly lighting a fresh cigar, whilehe swung one leg across the corner of the solid piece of furniture.
"Patricia won't stand for that little scheme of yours, not for aminute; and you know it, Uncle Steve." This was an affectionate termof familiarity which Duncan sometimes used in addressing Patricia'sfather. "I was afraid of it when you proposed it, but I allowedmyself, like an idiot, to be influenced by you. I tell you, Langdon,she won't stand for it; not for a minute. I have made her angry, manytimes before now, but I have never known her to be quite socontemptuously angered."
"No," said Langdon, and he chuckled audibly. "I agree with you. Ithink my little girl is going to make it hot for you before we arethrough with this deal. In fact, I shouldn't wonder if she made itwarm for both of us. She is like her old dad about one thing--shewon't be driven."
The younger man said something under his breath which, because it wasnot audible to his companion, need not be repeated here; but it wasprobably not an expression that he would have used in polite society.He drummed on the table with his fingertips, and smoked savagely.
"You're mighty cheerful about it, aren't you?" he demanded, withsarcastic emphasis. "What I want to know is, how are we going to fixit up?"
"Fix what up?"
"Why, this business about collateral, and all that rot, with Patricia.How are we going to square ourselves? That's what I'd like to know!Maybe you can see a way out of it, but I'm darned if I can."
The banker took the cigar from his mouth, flicked the ashes into thecuspidor, removed his leg from the table, and replied calmly, with ahalf-smile:
"It looks to me as if it were all fixed up, now. Patricia has agreedto marry you all right; she told me in plain English that I coulddeliver the goods. You heard her, didn't you? As far as I can see,she has only raised the ante just a little--a small matter of tenmillions, which you won't mind at all. What's the matter with you,anyhow? You get what you wanted--Patricia's consent to an earlymarriage." The old man grinned maddeningly at his companion.
"Confound you!" shouted Duncan, starting to his feet, and he smashedone hand down upon the top of the table, in the intensity of theresentment he felt at this remark.
"Do you suppose--damn you!--that I want her like that? Can't you seehow the whole thing outraged her? She hates me now, with every fibreof her being. She hates me, and you, too, for this day's work!"
Langdon shrugged his shoulders.
"You want her, don't you?" he asked, placidly, as if he were inquiringabout a quotation on 'change.
"Of course, I want her. God only knows how greatly I want her."
"Well, you get her, don't you, by this transaction? She'll keep theterms of the agreement. She's enough like me for that. She said Icould deliver the goods. She meant it, too. You get her, don't you?"
"Yes--but how?" was the sulky reply. "How do I get her? What will shedo to me, after I do get her? Tell me that, confound you!"
The old man chuckled again. "I am not a mind-reader," he said.
"What will she do to me, Uncle Steve? What did she threaten? What am Ito expect from her, now?"
"Oh, I don't know. I confess that I don't. Sometimes, Patricia is alittle too much for the old man, Roderick," he added, wistfully. Then,with another change of manner, he exclaimed: "But you get her! And Iget the twenty-millions credit. What more can either of us ask? Eh?"
"The twenty millions have nothing to do with it, and you know it. Theynever did have anything to do with it, and you know that, also. It wasonly your cursed suggestion, that we should make her promise to marryme the condition of keeping you from failure. You know as well as I dothat there is nothing belonging to me which you cannot have at anytime, for the asking; and that you do not stand, and have not stood,in any more danger of failure than I do."
"I would have failed if I had not known where to get the credit forthe twenty millions," the banker remarked, quietly.
"Yes; but--confound it--you did know. You only had to ask me. Butinstead of doing it in a straight, business-like way, you set thathorrible fly to buzzing in my ears, that we could make use of thecircumstance to compel Patricia to an immediate consent. And I, like afool, listened to you. Patricia never meant not to marry me; butnow--!"
He strode across the floor, then back again to his chair and flunghimself into it. The old man watched him warily, keen-eyed, observant,and with a certain expression of fondness that no one but his daughterand this young man had ever compelled from him. But, presently, heemitted another chuckling laugh; and said:
"That was a sharp stroke of hers to have the ten millions paid over toher. It was worthy of her old dad; eh? She is a bright one, all right.She's a chip off the old block, my boy. I couldn't have done itbetter, myself."
"Damn you!" Duncan exclaimed, and he sprang to his feet, grasped hishat, and rushed from the office to the street with much more apparentexcitement than Patricia herself had shown. He had the feeling that hehad allowed himself to be tricked into the commission of an unmanlyact, and he was thoroughly ashamed of it.
Stephen Langdon, left alone, chuckled again, although his face quicklyfell into that reposeful, mask-like expression which was habitual toit--an expression not to be changed by the loss or gain of millions.He remained for a time quietly in the chair he had been occupying, butsoon he rose and crossed to his desk, throwing back the top of it. Hepulled a bundle of papers from one of the pigeonholes a
nd calmlyexamined certain portions of them. He glanced over three letters leftthere by his stenographer for him to sign and post. These he signed,and after enclosing them in their respective envelopes, dropped themlightly into a side-pocket of his coat. Then, he pulled toward him thebracket that held the telephone, and placed the receiver against hisear. Having presently secured the desired number, he said:
"I wish to speak with Mr. Melvin, personally."
"Mr. Melvin is not in his office at the present moment," came thereply over the telephone. "Who is it, please?"
"This is Stephen Langdon, and I wanted to speak--"
He was interrupted by the person at the other end of the wire, whouttered an exclamation of surprise, followed by these words:
"Why, Mr. Langdon, Mr. Melvin has gone to your house to see you, as wesupposed. A telephone call came from your residence, and he departedat once, saying that he would not return to the office to-day."
"The devil he did!" exclaimed the banker, as he hung up the receiver.Then, he leaned back in his chair and smoked hard for a moment, withthe nearest approach to a frown that had appeared on his face duringall that exciting afternoon; and he did another thing unusual withhim: he spoke aloud his thoughts, with no one but himself forlistener.
"I'll be blowed if I thought Patricia would go as far as that!" waswhat he said. "If she hasn't sent for Malcolm Melvin to draw thosepapers she hinted at, I'm a Dutchman! By Jove, I begin to think thatDuncan was right after all, and that he is up against it in thislittle play we have had this afternoon. But I hadn't an idea that mygirl would go quite so far. H'm! It looks as if it is up to me tospoil her interview with Melvin, if I can get there in time."
Five minutes later, he left the banking-house, paused at a letter-boxlong enough to drop in the correspondence he had signed, and then wentswiftly onward to the subway, by which he was conveyed rapidly to thevicinity of his home. Somewhat later, when he entered the sumptuouslyappointed library, he discovered precisely what he had expected tofind: his lawyer, Malcolm Melvin, and his daughter Patricia werefacing each other across the table, the former having before himseveral sheets of paper, which were already covered with the pencilednotes and memoranda he had evidently been engaged in making.
Langdon stopped in the middle of the floor and looked at them. For thefirst time since the beginning of the interview with his daughter atthe office, he realized that she had been in deadly earnest at itsclose. He understood, suddenly, how deeply her pride had been wounded,and he knew that she was enough like himself to resent it with all thepower she could command.
"Since when, Melvin, have you ceased to be my attorney!" he inquiredsharply, determined to put an end to the scene, at once.
The elderly lawyer and the young woman had raised their heads fromearnest conversation when Stephen Langdon entered the room. Thelawyer, with a startled, although amused, expression on hisprofessional face; the daughter with a cold smile and an almostimperceptible nod of her shapely, Junoesque head. But her black eyessnapped with something very nearly approaching defiance, and shereplied, before Melvin could do so:
"Do not misunderstand the situation, please," she said, quickly. Andher father noticed with deep misgiving that she omitted the customaryterm of endearment between them. "Mr. Melvin is here at my request,and because he is your attorney. I have been instructing him how todraw the papers that are to accompany the collateral offered for yourloan, and the bonus that goes with it; and just how those papers areto be used, in accordance with the discussion between you and me, atthe bank, this afternoon. I told you, then, to inform Mr. Duncan thatyou would meet his requirements. Later, when I realized that he hadoverheard us--"
"What's the matter with you, Pat?" demanded the father, interruptingher with a touch of anger. "Have you lost your head, entirely?"
"No," she replied, with utter calmness; "I have only lost my Dad. Iwent down to his office this afternoon to see him, and I left himthere. Just now, I have been instructing Mr. Melvin concerning theparticulars of the agreement I want drawn and signed in thetransaction that is to take place between you and Roderick Duncan, inwhich I am, personally, so deeply concerned, in which I am to figureas the collateral security."
The old man stared at his daughter, with an expression that had mademany a Wall-street financier turn pale with apprehension. It was agrim visage that she saw then--hard and set, stern and unrelenting,and many a strong man had surrendered to Stephen Langdon, frightenedby the aspect of it. Not so this daughter of his. She met his gazeunflinchingly and calmly, without a change in her outward demeanor.After a moment, Langdon turned with a shrug toward the lawyer.
"Melvin," he said, "how many years have you been my attorney?"
"Fourteen, I think, Mr. Langdon," was the smiling reply. One wouldhave thought that the man of law found something highly amusing inthis incident.
"About that--yes. Well, do you see that door?" He half-turned andindicated the entrance he had just used. "Melvin, I want you to pickup those papers and tell John, outside, to give you your hat; then Iwant you to get out of here as quick as God'll let you. If you don't,our relations are severed from this moment. And if you complete thedraft of those papers, without my permission, or submit them to anyperson whatever, without my having seen them first, I will haveanother attorney to replace you, Monday morning. Go right along now.You needn't answer me. If you don't want my business, all you've gotto do is to say so. If you do want it, you'll come mighty near doingwhat I have told you to do, just now."
The lawyer, quietly, but with dignity, rose from his chair, folded thepapers, placed them in an inner pocket of his coat, bowed to Patriciaand then to her father, and without a word passed from the room,closing the door quietly behind him; but before he quite accomplishedthis last act, the clear even tones of the girl called after him:
"I am sure, Mr. Melvin, that we had quite concluded our conference. Iwill ask you please to draw those papers as I have directed. You maysubmit copies to Mr. Langdon at the time you bring the originals tome."
He did not answer, for there was no occasion to do so, and a secondlater Stephen Langdon and his daughter were alone together for thesecond time that afternoon.
"Now, Patricia," he said, turning toward her, with his feet wideapart and his hands thrust deep into his trousers-pockets, "what inblazes is this all about?"
His daughter replied coldly and precisely:
"I have merely been dictating to your lawyer the substance of theconditions I wish to have embodied in the papers that are to completethe transaction we have discussed at your office. I selected Mr.Melvin because I knew him to be in your confidence, and I surmisedthat you would prefer that the condition of affairs under which youare now struggling, which forces you to borrow twenty-million dollars,should not be made known to an outsider."
"Well, I'll tell you that I won't hear of it! It's got to stop rightnow. I won't have those papers drawn at all. I won't have it. Thewhole thing is preposterous, and you seem to be determined to make afool of yourself. I won't have it!"
"But you must have it," she said, quietly.
"Must have it? Patricia, there isn't a man in the city of New York whodares to say that to me."
"Possibly not, sir; but there is a woman in New York who dares to sayit to you, and who does say it, here and now. That woman is,unfortunately, your daughter."
"Patricia! Are you crazy?"
"No; but I am more hurt and angry, more outraged and incensed, than Ibelieved it possible ever to be. I shall insist upon the drawing ofthose papers, and the fulfillment of the stipulations I have directed.If you are determined that Mr. Melvin shall not finish what he hasbegun for me, I shall select another lawyer, and shall have the papersdrawn just the same."
"But, my child, it is all foolishness. The papers are not necessary.Roderick will supply what cash I need without anything of that sort,and you know it!"
"Am I to understand, sir, that you have lied to me?"
Langdon dropped upon a chair, breathing an oath which
his daughter didnot hear, and she continued, without awaiting a reply from him:
"You have taught me, since I was a child, that in a businesstransaction in the Street, where there is no time for the drawing ofpapers, a man must live up to his word, absolutely. I took youseriously in what occurred at your office this afternoon. I surmised,when we were near the end of our interview,--nay, I assumed it--thatRoderick Duncan was inside the inner office. My surmise proved to betrue, and now I have only this to say: We shall carry out thetransaction precisely as it was stipulated between us, and accordingto the papers I have dictated to Mr. Melvin, or I shall go to anotherlawyer and have those same papers drawn and offered to you and to Mr.Duncan, for your signatures. He overheard our conversation, and thusbecame a party to it. I was forced into the situation without myconsent, and I shall now insist upon a certain recognition of myrights in the matter. If you choose to deny me those rights, the factwill not deter me from proceeding in my own way--a way which Mr.Melvin, your attorney, thoroughly understands. I have explained itfully to him."
The old man leaned back in his chair, glaring at his daughter, and yetin that burning gaze of his there was undoubted admiration. He likedher pluck, and deep down in his heart he gloried in her ability tomaintain the position she had assumed, where she literally held himhelpless. For it would never do that she should be permitted to go toanother lawyer; such a proceeding would betray to other parties thefinancial embarrassment into which he had been drawn. The news wouldget out. There would be a whisper here, a murmur there, and beforenoon on Monday, all New York would know it. His daughter understoodher momentary power over him, and she was determined to make the mostof it.
Patricia returned her father's gaze for a moment, then turnednegligently away and moved toward the door.
"Wait," he called to her.
"Well?" She stopped, and half-turned.
"Don't you know, girl, that the whole business was tomfoolery?"
"No; and I would not believe you, or Mr. Duncan--now."
"Wait just a minute longer, Patricia; let me explain this thing toyou, fully. Let me make you understand just how it came about," herfather exclaimed. "It was all a mistake, you know, and I must confessthat the mistake was mostly mine. Of course, Roderick was ready to letme have the twenty millions, or fifty if I had asked for them. Therewas never any doubt about that, and could have been none. He has themoney, and there never has been a time, since he inherited it, when Icould not use it as if it were my own. You knew that. I have neverhesitated to go to him, either. That is why I went to him to-day.Before I had an opportunity to explain the purpose of my call, heasked about you, and the question suggested to my mind the idea ofutilizing the desperate situation I was in to hasten your marriage tohim. You know how I have looked forward to that. I have known, or atleast I have supposed I knew, for years, that you thought more of himthan of anyone else. You are twenty years old now; it is high timethat you were married, and it would break my old heart to see you takeup with any of those society-beaux who hover around you at everyfunction where you appear. On the other hand, I shall be very gladwhen you are Roderick Duncan's wife. He is the son of the best friendI ever had, the only man I ever trusted. And he is every bit as good aman as his father was. He is square and on the level. He has wealth,and he doesn't go bumming around town, giving champagne parties, andmonkey dinners. He knows how to be a good fellow without making a foolof himself, and that is more than you can say of most young men whohave money to burn. You have grown up together, and why in the worldyou have kept putting him off is more than I can guess. Besides allthat, he is easily worth a hundred millions. But this has nothing todo with the present question. I want you to have him, and I want himto have you; and if he didn't have a dollar in the world, I shouldfeel just the same about it. All that happened to-day was at myinstigation; not at his. And now, daughter, you must find it in yourheart to forgive him--and me."
She listened to him to the end, quietly and outwardly unmoved. When heconcluded, she replied in the same even tone she had used ever sinceher father entered the library:
"I don't know, and I don't care to know, any of the particularsregarding how the arrangement came about between you and Mr. Duncan.What I do know is this: the arrangement was made between you, and wasagreed upon between you. I was called in, to be consulted, at yourprivate office, with the third interested party concealed like a spyin an inner room. I agreed to the transaction as I understood it. Iwill carry it out as I agreed to do, while at your office, and in noother way. If Roderick Duncan wishes to make me his wife, he must doit according to the stipulations I have dictated to Mr. Melvin, thisafternoon, or he can never do it at all. That, sir, is all I have tosay."
She turned and went from the room, closing the door behind her assoftly as the lawyer had done.
The old man slipped down more deeply into his chair, covered his eyeswith one hand, and murmured, audibly:
"I have had to live almost seventy years to find out that, after all,I am nothing but an old fool."