Part 13

"She's wrong," he said to himself. "But she'll not do anything foolish. She's the kind that can go in safety along the wrong road, because they always keep a line of retreat open." And that reflection somewhat reassured him.

Narcisse went direct to Fosdick at his office. As there was only one caller ahead of her, she did not have long to wait in the anteroom guarded by Waller of the stealthy, glistening smile. "Mr. Fosdick is very busy this morning," explained he. It was the remark he always made to callers as he passed them along; it helped Fosdick to cut them short. "The big railway consolidation, you know?"

"No, I don't know," replied Narcisse.

"Oh--you artists! You live quite apart from our world of affairs. But I supposed news of a thing of such tremendous public benefit would have reached everybody."

Narcisse smiled faintly. She could not imagine any of these gentlemen, roosted so high and with eyes training in every direction in search of prey, occupying themselves for one instant with a thing that was a public benefit, except in the hope of changing it into a "private snap."

"It's marvelous," continued Waller, "how Fosdick and these other men of enormous wealth go on working for their fellow men when they might be taking their ease and amusing themselves."

"Amusing themselves--how?" asked she.

"Oh--in a thousand ways."

"I'm afraid they'd find it hard to pass the time, if they didn't have their work," said she. "The world isn't a very amusing place unless one happens to have work that interests him."

"There's something in that--there's something in that," said Waller, in as good an imitation as he could give of his master's tone and manner. It had never before occurred to him to question the current theory that, while poor men toiled for bread and selfishness, rich men refrained from boring themselves to death in idling about, only because they passionately yearned to serve their fellow beings.

"Do you still teach a class in Mr. Fosdick's Sunday school?"

"I'm assistant superintendent now," replied he.

"That's good," said she, as if she really meant it. She was feeling sorry for him. He had worked so long and so hard, and had striven so diligently to please Fosdick in every way; Fosdick had got from him service that money could not have bought. And the worst of it was, Fosdick had never tried to find a money expression for it that was anything like adequate, but had ingeniously convinced poor Waller he was more than well paid in the honor of serving in such an intimate capacity such a great and generous man. The mitigating circumstance was that Fosdick firmly believed this himself--but Narcisse that day was not in the humor to see the mitigations of Fosdick.

And now Fosdick himself came hurrying in, eyes alight, strong face smiling--"Miss Siersdorf--this is a surprise! I don't believe I ever before saw you downtown--though, of course, you must have come." He looked at her with an admiration that was genuine. "Excuse an old man for saying it, but you are so beautifully dressed--as always--and handsome--that goes without saying. Come right in. You can have all the time you want. I know you--know you are a business woman. Now, that man who was just with me--Bishop Knowlton--a fine, noble man, with a heart full of love for God and his fellows--but not an idea of the value of a business man's time. Finally I had to say to him, 'I'll give you what you ask--and I'll double it if you don't say another word but go at once.'"

They were now in the innermost room, and Fosdick had bowed her into a chair and had seated himself. "I came to see you," said Narcisse, formal to coldness, "about the two office buildings--about the accounts our firm has been approving."

"Oh, but you needn't fret about them," said Fosdick, in his bluff, hearty, offhand manner. "Your brother is looking after them."

"Then they are all right?" she said, fixing her gaze on him.

"Why, certainly, certainly. I have absolute confidence in your brother. Have you seen Overlook? Yes--of course--my daughter told me. You delighted her by what you said. It is beautiful----"

"To keep to the accounts, Mr. Fosdick," Narcisse interrupted, "I am not satisfied with our firm's position in the matter."

"My dear young lady, talk to your brother about that. I've a thousand and one matters. I really know nothing of details, and, as you are perhaps aware, my interest in the O.A.D. is largely philanthropic. I can give but little of my time."

"I've come," said Narcisse, as he paused for breath, "to get from you a statement relieving us from all responsibility as to those accounts, and authorizing us to sign them as a mere formality, to expedite their progress."

Fosdick laughed. "I'd like to do anything to oblige you," said he, "but really, I couldn't do that. You must know that I have nothing to do with the buildings--with the details of the affairs of the O.A.D."

"You gave us the contracts," said Narcisse.

"Pardon me, _I_ did not give you the contracts. They were not mine to give. What you mean to say is that I used for you what influence I have. It was out of friendship for you and your brother."

There he touched her. "We had every reason to believe that we got the contracts solely because our plans were the most satisfactory," said she coldly. "If we had suspected that friendship had anything to do with it, we should certainly have withdrawn. I assure you, sir, we feel under no obligation--and my present purpose is to prevent you from putting yourself under obligation to us."

"I don't quite follow you," said Fosdick, most conciliatory.

"There has been some kind of--'bookkeeping,' I believe you call it--in connection with the payments for the work on those buildings. If we were to aid you in your--'bookkeeping,' you would certainly be under heavy obligations to us. We cannot permit that."

Fosdick laughed with the utmost good nature. "I see you misunderstood some remarks I made to you and your brother one day at my house. However, anything to keep peace among friends. I'll do as you wish."

His manner was so frank and so friendly, and his concession so unreserved, that Narcisse was surprised into being ashamed of her suspicions. "I believe 'Lois is right," she said to herself. "I've been led astray by my prejudice."

Those shrewd old eyes of Fosdick's could not have missed an opportunity for advantage so plain as was written on her honest face. He hastened to score. "I'll dictate it to Waller," said he, rising, "when he comes in to round up the day. You'll get it in the early morning mail. Good-by. You don't come to see us up at the house nearly often enough--at least, not when I'm there." He had opened the door. "Waller, conduct Miss Siersdorf to the elevator. Good-by, again."

With nods and smiles he had cleared himself of her, easily, without abruptness, rather as if she were hurrying him than he her. And Waller, quick to take his cue, had passed her into the elevator before she was quite aware what was happening. Not until she was on the ground floor and walking toward the door did her mind recover. "What have you _got_?" it said, and promptly answered, "Nothing--for, what is a promise from Josiah Fosdick?" That seemed cynical, unjust; as Fosdick not only was by reputation a man of his word, but also had always kept his word with her. But she stopped short and debated; and it was impossible for her to shake her conviction that the man meant treachery. "He'll sacrifice us," she said to herself, "if it's necessary to save intact the name and fame of Josiah Fosdick--or even if he should think it would be helpful." What were two insignificant mere ordinary mortals in comparison with that name and fame, that inspiration to honesty and fidelity for the youth of the land, that bulwark of respectability and religion--for, as all the world knows, the eternal verities are kept alive solely by the hypocrites who preach and profess them; if those "shining examples" were exposed and disgraced, down would crash truth and honor. No, Josiah Fosdick was not one to hesitate before the danger of such a cataclysm. Further, she felt that he had been plotting while he and she were talking and had found some way to pinion her and her brother during the day he had gained. "To-morrow morning," she decided, "I'll not get the paper, and it'll be useless to try to get it. Something must be done, and at once."

She turned back, reentered the elevator. "To Mr. Armstrong," she said.

Armstrong, whom she knew but slightly, received her with great courtesy, and an evident interest that in turn roused her curiosity. "It's as if he knew about our affairs," she thought. To him she said, "I want to see you a few minutes alone."

He took her into his inner room. "Well, what is it?" he asked, with the sort of abruptness that invites confidence.

She had liked what she had seen of him; her good impression was now strengthened. She thought there was courage and honesty in his face, along with that look of experience and capacity which is rarely seen in young faces, except in America with its group of young men who have already risen to positions of great responsibility. There was bigness about him, too-bigness of body and of brow and of hands, and the eyes that go with large ways of judging and acting--eyes at once keen and good-humored. A man to turn a shrewd trick, perhaps; but it would be exceedingly shrewd, and only against a foe who was using the same tactics. Half confidences are worse than none, are the undoing weakness of the timid who, though they know they must play and play desperately, yet cannot bring themselves to play in the one way that could win. Narcisse flung all her cards upon the table.

"I've got to trust somebody," she said. "My best judgment is that that somebody is you. Here is my position." And she related fully, rapidly, everything except the source of her warning against Fosdick. She told all she knew about the unwarranted vouchers A. & N. Siersdorf had been approving--"at least, I think they are unwarranted," she said. "We know nothing about them."

"And why do you come to _me_?" said Armstrong when he had the whole affair before him from the first interview with Fosdick to and including the last interview.

"Because you are president of the O.A.D.," she replied. "We have nothing to conceal. You are the responsible executive officer. If you do not know about these things, you ought to be told. And I am determined that our firm shall not remain in its present false position."

Armstrong sat back in his chair, his face heavy and expressionless, as if the mind that usually animated it had left it a lifeless mask and had withdrawn and concentrated upon something within. No one ever got an inkling of what Armstrong was turning over in his mind until he was ready to expose it in speech. When he came back to the surface, he turned his chair until he was facing her squarely. His scrutiny seemed to satisfy him, for presently he said, "I see that you trust me," in his friendliest way.

"Yes," she replied.

"It's a great gift--a great advantage," he went on, "to make up one's mind to trust and then to do it without reserve.... I think you will not falter, no matter what happens."

"No," she said.

"Well--you came to just the right person. I don't understand it."

"Woman's instinct, perhaps."

He shook his head. "I doubt it. That's simply a phrase to get round a mystery. No, your judgment guided you somehow. Judgment is the only guide."

Narcisse had been debating; she could not see how it could possibly do any harm to mention Neva. "Before I came downtown," said she, "it drifted into my mind that I might have to come to you. So I asked Neva Carlin about you."

"Oh!" Armstrong settled back in his chair abruptly and masked his face. "And what did she say?"

"That she was sure you wouldn't do anything small or mean."

The big Westerner suddenly beamed upon her. "Well, she ought to know," said he with a blush and a hearty, boyish laugh. Then earnestly: "I think I can do more for you than anyone else in this matter--and I will. You must say nothing, and do nothing. Let everything go on as if you had no suspicion."

"But, when Mr. Fosdick does not send me the authorization?"

"Wait a few days; write, reminding him; then let the matter drop."

She reflected; the business seemed finished so far as she could finish it. She rose and put out her hand. "Thank you," she said simply, and again, with a fine look in her fine eyes, "Thank you."

"You owe me nothing," he replied. "In the first place, I've done nothing, and I can't promise absolutely that I can do anything. In the second place, you have given me some extremely valuable information. In return I merely engage not to use it to as great advantage as I might in some circumstances."

In the entrance hall once more, she wondered at the complete change in her state of mind. She now felt content; yet she had nothing tangible, apparently less than at the end of her interview with Fosdick--for he had promised something definite, while Armstrong had merely said, "I'll do my best." She wondered at her content, at her absolute inability to have misgiving or doubt.

*XV*

*ARMSTRONG SWOOPS*

About an hour after Narcisse left Fosdick, he sent for Westervelt, the venerable comptroller of the O.A.D. But Westervelt came before the message could possibly have reached him.

Westervelt's position--chief financial officer of one of the greatest fiduciary institutions of a world whose fiduciary institutions have become more important than its governments--would have made him in any event important and conspicuous; but he was a figure in finance large out of all proportion to his office. He was one of the stock "shining examples" of Wall Street. If industry was talked of, what more natural than to point to old Westervelt, for fifty years at his desk early and late, without ever taking a vacation? If honesty was being discussed, where a better instance of it than honest old Bill Westervelt, who had handled billions yet was worth only a modest three or four millions? If fidelity was the theme, there again was old Bill with his long white whiskers, refusing offer after offer of high stations because he was loyal to the O.A.D. Why, he had even refused the financial place in the Cabinet! If anyone had been unkind enough to suggest, in partial mitigation of this almost oppressive saintliness, that old Bill had no less than ninety-six relatives by blood and marriage in good to splendid berths in the O.A.D.; that he had put his brother, his two sons and his three sons-in-law in positions where they had made fortunes as dealers in securities for the O.A.D. and its allied institutions; that a Cabinet position at eight thousand a year, where such duties as were not clerical consisted in obeying the "advice" of the big financial lords, would have small charm for a man so placed that he was a real influence in the real financial councils of the nation--if such suggestions as these had been made, the person who made them would have been denounced as a cynic, gangrened with envy. If anyone had ventured to hint that, in view of the truly monstrous increase in the expenses of the O.A.D., old Bill's industry seemed to be bearing rather strange fruit for so vaunted a tree, and that his fidelity ought to have a vacation while expert accountants verified it--such insinuations would have been repelled as sheer slander, an attempt to undermine the confidence of mankind in the reality of virtue. So great was Westervelt's virtue that he himself had come to revere it as profoundly as did the rest of the world; it seemed to him that one so wholly right could do no wrong; that evil itself, passing through the crucible of that white soul of his, emerged as good.

Fosdick simply glanced at his old friend and associate as he entered. "Hello, Bill," he exclaimed. "I was just going to send for you. I want the Siersdorfs suspended from charge of those new buildings. And give the head bookkeeper of the real estate department a six months' vacation--say, for a tour of the world."

But Westervelt had not heard. He had dropped into a chair, and was white as his whiskers, and the hand with which he was stroking them was shaking. As he did not reply, Fosdick looked at him. "Why, Bill, what's the matter?" he cried, friendly alarm in voice and face. "Not sick?"

"I've been--suspended," gasped Westervelt. "I--suspended!"

Josiah stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Armstrong has just suspended me."

"Armstrong!" cried Fosdick. "Why, you're crazy, man! He's got no more authority over you than he has over me."

"He sent for me just now," said Westervelt, "and when I came in he looked savagely at me and said, 'Mr. Westervelt, you will take a vacation until further notice. I put it in that way to keep the scandal from becoming public. You can say you have become suddenly ill. You will leave the offices at once, and not return until I send for you.'"

Fosdick was listening like a man watching the fantastic procession of a dream which not even the wild imagination of a sleeper could credit. "You're crazy, Bill," he repeated.

"I laughed at him," continued Westervelt. "And then he said--it seems to me I must really be crazy--but, no, he said it--'We have reason to believe that the books are in wild, in criminal disorder,' he said. 'I have telegraphed for Brownell. He will be here in the morning to take charge.'"

Fosdick bounded to his feet. "Brownell! Why, he's Armstrong's old side-partner in Chicago. Brownell!" Fosdick's face grew purple, and he jerked at his collar and swung his head and rolled his eyes and mouthed as if he were about to have a stroke. Then he rushed to his bell and leaned upon the button. Waller came into the room, terror in his face. "Armstrong!" cried Fosdick. "Bring him here--instantly!"

But it was full ten minutes before Waller could find and bring him. In that time Fosdick's mind asserted itself, beat his passion into its kennel where it could be kept barred in or released, as events might determine. "Caution--caution!" he said to Westervelt. "Let _me_ do all the talking."

The young president entered deliberately, with impassive countenance. He looked calmly at Westervelt, then at Fosdick.

"I suppose you know what I want to see you about, Horace," Fosdick began. "Sit down. There seems to be some sort of misunderstanding between you and Westervelt--eh?"

Armstrong simply sat, the upper part of his big frame resting by the elbows upon the arms of his chair, a position which gave him an air of impenetrable stolidity and immovable solidity.

When Fosdick saw that Armstrong was determined to hold his guard, he went on, "It won't do for you two to quarrel. At any price we must have peace, must face the world, united and loyal. I want to make peace between you two. Westervelt has told me his side of the story. Now, you tell me yours."

"I suspended him, pending a private investigation--that's all," said Armstrong. And his lips closed as if that were all he purposed to say.

Fosdick's eyes gleamed dangerously. "You know, you have no authority to suspend the comptroller?" he said quietly.

"That's true."

"Then he is not suspended."

"Yes, he is," said Armstrong. "And on my way down here I looked in at his department and told them he was ill and wouldn't be back to-day."

Westervelt started up. "How dare you!" he shrilled in the undignified fury of the old.

"Bill, Bill!" warned Fosdick. Then to Armstrong, "The way to settle it is for Bill to go home for to-day. In the morning, he will return to his work as usual."

"Brownell will be here, will be in charge," said Armstrong. "If Westervelt returns, I'll have him put out."

"Will you permit me to ask the why of all this?" inquired Fosdick.

"The man's been up to some queer business," replied Armstrong. "The books have got to be straightened out, and it looks as if he'd have to disgorge some pretty big sums."

Westervelt groaned and fell heavily back into his chair. "That I should live to hear such insults to me!" he cried, and the tears rolled down his cheeks. Armstrong simply looked at him.

"You are mistaken, terribly mistaken, Horace," said Fosdick smoothly. "You have been woefully misled." He did not know what to do. He dared not break with Westervelt, the chief stay of his power over the staff of the O.A.D.; yet neither did he dare, just then and over just that matter, break with Armstrong.

"If Westervelt is innocent," replied Armstrong, "he ought to be laughing at me--for, if he's innocent, I have ruined myself."

"I know you have no honor, no pride," cried Westervelt. "But have you no sense of what honor and pride are? After all my years of service, after building high my name in this community, to be insulted by an adventurer like you! How do I know what you would cook up against me, if you had control of the books? Fosdick, we'll have the board together this afternoon, and suspend him!"

Fosdick saw the look in Armstrong's face at this. "No, no, Bill," he said. "We must sleep on this. By morning a way out will be found."

"By morning!" exclaimed Westervelt. "I'll not see the sun go down with a cloud shadowing my reputation."

"Leave me alone with my old friend for a few minutes, Horace," said Fosdick.

"Certainly," agreed Armstrong, rising.

"I'll come up to see you presently," Fosdick called after him, as he was closing the door. The two veterans were alone. Fosdick said, "That young man is a very ugly customer, Westervelt. We must go slowly if we are to get rid of him without scandal."

"All we've got to do is to throw him out," replied Westervelt. "What reputable man or newspaper would listen to him? And if he has hold of the books for a few weeks, a few days even, he can twist and turn them so that he will at least be stronger than he is now. The stupendous impudence of the man! Why did you ever let him get into the company?"

"Bad judgment," said Fosdick gloomily. "I had no idea he was so short-sighted or so swollen with his own importance. I saw only his ability. But we'll soon be rid of him."

"Can it be that he has gotten wind of our plans about him?" said Westervelt uneasily.

Fosdick waved his hand. "Nobody knows them but you and I. Impossible. I haven't even let Morris into that secret yet. Armstrong's quite sure of his ground--and he must be kept sure. When he goes, it must be with a brand on him that will make him as harmless a creature as there is in the world."

"But the books--he must not get hold of the books," persisted Westervelt.

"I'll see to that. Can you suggest any way to keep him quiet, except pretending to give him his head at present?"

Westervelt reflected. Suddenly he cried out, "No, Josiah; I can't let him--anyone--handle those books. They're my reputation."

"But you have got them into good shape for the legislative investigation, haven't you?"

"Yes--certainly. But there are the private books!"

"Um," grunted Fosdick. "How many of them?"

"Three--beside the one I slipped into my pocket on my way down here. They're too big to take away."

"They must be destroyed," said Fosdick. "Go now and get them. Have them carried down here at once."

Westervelt hurried away. As he entered his office, he was astounded at seeing Armstrong seated at a side desk, dictating to a stenographer. At sight of Westervelt, Armstrong started up and went to meet him. "You ought not to be lingering here, Mr. Westervelt," he said, so that all the clerks could hear. "You owe it to yourself to take no such risk."