Chapter 10

"This is a business proposition, Mr. Levy," Covington reminded him, sharply. "Thus far I have looked upon myself as a possible plaintiff in the affair--not as a defendant. I am not obliged to proceed in the matter, and will drop it right here if you propose to start in by trying extortion on me."

Levy was grieved that any one should so misconstrue his motives. "This isn't a childish play we're going into, Mr. Covington," he replied, mildly. "Gorham is big game, and I presume you expect to gain something out of this little affair."

"You presume too much," Covington said, shortly. "Comments are neither asked for nor desired. If you wish to do this work for me, I will pay you a fair price--yes, a high price--for your services, but no blood-money. I'll pay you a thousand dollars now as a retainer; I'll pay all reasonable expenses and four thousand dollars more in case you find anything of interest to me. Then, if I decide to use the information later, I'll make a trade with you at that time on the basis of what it is worth. Do you care to accept the case on these terms?"

"The conditions are most unusual," Levy wavered.

"The case itself is an unusual one," Covington replied. "The chances are a hundred to one that you find nothing, in which case you will have earned your fee easily. Beyond this the odds are at least as great that I shall make no use of what you find out, anyway, which means that I shall have paid a large price to gratify my whim."

"There is something in what you say," admitted Levy.

"Then you will undertake it on my terms?"

"Yes; give me your check for a thousand dollars and I'll start the ball rolling."

"My check?" queried Covington. "I have no doubt currency will be equally acceptable."

"Thank you very much," Levy replied, genially, placing the bills carefully within a capacious wallet against the happy hour of five o'clock in Mulligan's conveniently located saloon.

XIV

The merger of the New York street railways, which occurred three weeks later, was Gorham's first chance to demonstrate to the public what the Consolidated Companies could accomplish in handling a great metropolitan transportation problem. The further he got into it, however, the more serious the problem became, and he had moved slowly to prevent any possible mistake. But now he was ready to proceed without further delay to complete his previous negotiations to secure the traction franchise for which Collins had bribed the Aldermen, and for a part interest in which Brady had intimidated Collins. It had been a nauseating piece of work even to Gorham, who had become only too familiar with the particular grade of business "morality" permeating those possessed of opportunity and fortified by responsibility. Covington was never able to reconcile Gorham's willingness to do business with men of this stamp, and the apparent personal stand which he took against both their practices and their methods.

"It is all perfectly consistent," Gorham assured him on more than one occasion. "It is often necessary to walk through filth and slime in order to reach high ground. It is a serious fault in our business system that these crimes can be committed, but the Consolidated Companies is not responsible for the system. To accomplish its own high ends, the Companies must possess itself of certain properties. These properties are at present in the hands of dishonest stewards, but these same dishonest stewards are legally authorized to sell them. The Companies buys, therefore, from those who have to sell, and its moral responsibility begins only upon its acquisition."

The transaction, large as it was, proved not a lengthy one. The franchise was formally made over to the Consolidated Companies, and the controlling stock in the New York Street Railways Company changed ownership. Properly certified checks for the franchise and for the stock were duly delivered into Brady's hands, and the business of the conference seemed to be completely settled to the satisfaction of all concerned. Still, Mr. Gorham and those who had come with him showed no disposition to depart.

"There ain't anything more, is there?" asked Brady, eager to terminate the conference, "except to congratulate the Consolidated Companies on acquirin' a damned valuable property."

"Only a little more," Gorham replied, quietly. "I have asked my friends, Mr. Littleton and Mr. Graham, to be present this morning, as I found that they, like the other and smaller stockholders, had very little knowledge of how their affairs were being handled for them by their directors. They have received their dividends regularly and promptly and were satisfied."

"What in hell is this a preamble to?" Brady whispered to Harris. "My nerves ain't quiet yet, even with the cash in my jeans."

But Gorham was still talking in the same low, quiet voice.

"These gentlemen," he was saying, "have honored the Consolidated Companies by becoming stockholders, so I thought it might be illuminating for them to be present at this conference, which will serve, I believe, as well as any to demonstrate the methods which the Consolidated Companies is obliged to meet and those which it proposes to employ."

"I don't know that this interests me much," interrupted Brady, ill-humoredly. "Our business is done, ain't it?"

"Not quite," Gorham continued, scarcely heeding the break. "On behalf of the Consolidated Companies, and exercising the rights vested in me by my Board of Directors, I have just handed to you, Mr. Brady, a certified check for one hundred thousand dollars. Why it should go to you instead of to Mr. Collins you probably know better than I--it is enough that you have his authority to receive it. I happen to be aware that this check represents fifty thousand dollars more than Mr. Collins paid to get the franchise through the Board of Aldermen, so it is fair to assume that the price of twelve city fathers is the same as two private citizens."

Harris found some difficulty in restraining Brady at this point, but their joint uncertainty regarding Gorham's ultimate purpose resulted in preserving silence.

"In addition to the check for the franchise," he continued, "I have also handed to Mr. Brady other certified checks for some twenty million dollars beyond the par value of the stocks of the various companies included in the merger which has just been consummated."

"What are you kickin' about?" demanded Brady. "Ain't that the price you agreed to?"

"It is; and I consider the properties worth the price or I should not have agreed to it."

"The stockholders ought to be satisfied, hadn't they? They're gettin' good returns."

"Yes, they ought to be satisfied, and I have no doubt they are."

"Then what's the point, friend--what's all this palaver?"

"I was just coming to that. There are three short lines which are not mentioned in that contract. May I ask if there was any special reason for their omission?"

"That's our business," snarled Brady.

"I know it is," Gorham replied, sharply, "and I'm going to ask you to attend to it right now."

"We'll attend to it when we get good and ready." Brady squared himself for the issue. "If you was as smart as you think you are, you'd have thought of those three lines before you cashed up."

"I didn't overlook them," Gorham replied. "I can buy them cheaper now."

Brady was amused and showed his appreciation of the speaker's humor in his sidelong glance at Harris.

"You think so, do you?" he calmed himself enough to reply. "I presume you've settled on the price you're goin' to pay?"

"I have," answered Gorham; "but I'm not quite ready to quote it. The stockholders of these small companies understood that you were purchasing their stock to be merged with the New York Street Railways Company, didn't they?"

"It don't make a damned bit of difference what they thought. We paid 'em their price."

"And the stockholders of the New York Street Railways Company thought you were buying this stock to be merged with theirs, didn't they?"

"We used our own money to buy that stock. You can't find a thing about it that ain't straight."

"Very good. Now I'll name my price for the three lines. The Consolidated Companies will pay you fifty thousand dollars for them."

"Fifty thousand!" gasped Brady. "Why, we paid two hundred thousand."

"Thank you. I had wondered what you did pay for them, and this information is no doubt authentic. The stockholders made a better thing out of it than you will."

"But we won't sell at anything like that figure."

"Oh, yes, you will if you sell at all," Gorham rejoined. "One method by which the Consolidated Companies has succeeded is that of taking the public into its confidence whenever there is need of it. To-morrow we shall announce the birth of the Manhattan Traction Company, explaining its inception and its intentions. We shall show that, although we have paid an enormous price for the purchase of the properties, we shall capitalize at one-half the amount originally planned by those who would have carried through the merger if our Companies had not stepped in. We shall announce an increase of transfer privileges and a reduction of fares. We shall guarantee better equipment and better service. We shall also carefully explain that one of the reasons we can do this is that the company will be run in the interests of the public and the stockholders instead of in the interests of a few individuals; and we shall quote, in proof of this, that we purchased the three lines referred to for fifty thousand dollars when it was originally planned to have them cost the Companies something over two millions."

"They will still cost the Companies 'something over two millions,'" shouted Brady, "and the public be damned."

"Our slogan is, 'The public be pleased,'" smiled Gorham. "The offer of the Consolidated Companies will hold for twenty-four hours only," he continued, rising. "The franchise, you will perhaps remember, grants full privileges for the construction of further subway connections. Under these circumstances, we do not urge you to accept our offer--we merely invite your consideration. Now, gentlemen"--Gorham placed a peculiar emphasis on the word--"I believe our business is completed. The time limit on our offer will expire at noon to-morrow."

Covington was an interested spectator throughout the conference, and Gorham's supreme command of the situation won from him his silent but profound admiration. He rejoiced that this force was directed against others rather than himself, and he realized more than ever the importance of taking no chances of coming into conflict with this man who swept everything before him. He had enjoyed watching the faces of Brady and Harris as the game progressed, but his enjoyment encouraged him to remain too long after the departure of the others. Harris was cowed and frightened and seemed almost ready to break into tears, but Brady assumed an attitude which fitted him singularly well. It was not dismay, it was not chagrin--he was angry to the point of bursting. To Brady the one sin more flagrant than all others in the category of crime was failure, and in order to relieve his own conscience from the pollution of having failed he saw fit to attribute the entire responsibility to Covington.

"You damned skunk!" he cried, "you've sold us out after promisin' not to, that's what you've done! But I'll get back at you if it costs me ten years in Sing Sing!"

Covington for a second time went directly from Brady's office to his own, but the former complacency was replaced by a vague apprehension. A threat from Brady was worthy of consideration. Among the personal mail which he found upon his desk was a plain envelope, which, for some unknown reason, attracted his attention enough to cause him to open it before the one which lay on top. The signature interested him even more, particularly at the present moment, with his thoughts filled with what had recently passed. It is a precaution of the experienced mariner to inspect his lifeboats with especial care as he passes by a dangerous reef. The letter read:

"_The divorce papers prove to be shockingly irregular, and there are developments in the early life. Please call at your convenience._"

Covington crushed the paper in his hand and turned toward his desk with a changed expression. He smiled as he looked forward into space--the first smile which had lighted up his face for several days. Then he brought his clenched fist down hard on the desk for no apparent reason and muttered something to himself.

XV

As evidenced in the message received by Covington, Levy had not been neglectful of the case which had been intrusted to him by his new client. Without much difficulty Buckner was located in New Orleans, and identified as the proprietor of a low dive which had become the rendezvous for the most vicious outcasts of the city. Drink and debauchery had long since destroyed the physical advantages he had possessed over other men at the time of his marriage. The death of his child, to whom he had given as much affection as his nature possessed, the stern arraignment of the neighbor who helped him to his ranch and later brought him the tragic news, and the consciousness of his own responsibility in the accident, all combined to drive him almost immediately away from the scenes which reminded him of it; and as time passed the bitterness turned to resentment against his wife. If she had not left the ranch that day, he argued to himself, the accident would never have happened. She had loathed him for months before the final separation, and he had resented the disgust which she made no effort to conceal. There had been enough manhood left in him then to feel it and to resent it.

When he first heard that she had instituted divorce proceedings his anger returned, and he determined to hold her to the unwelcome bonds if for nothing else than to know that she still suffered; but a consultation with an attorney showed him the futility of any defence, so he simply held this up against her as another affront to be wiped out if the time ever came which gave him the opportunity.

But he had long since given up all hope that this time would ever come. During the years which had elapsed he had drifted from one city to another, each time taking a stand a degree lower than the preceding. In New Orleans he had succeeded in getting a little better living than heretofore, so he had settled down there with the idea of making it a permanency.

It was a welcome break in the monotony for him to receive a call from Levy's agent, and the fact that the visitor felt inclined to provide liquid refreshment of a grade considerably higher than he had been able to indulge himself in for many years did not detract from his welcome. As the evening wore on he was quite willing--almost eager--to tell the story of his life to this agreeable and sympathetic listener, so Levy had been materially assisted in the preliminary investigation of his case. Nor was the welcome any less cordial when the agent appeared for a second time, on this occasion offering Buckner five hundred dollars in exchange for his "time and trouble." He was given no intimation regarding the nature of his errand; he really had little curiosity. It was enough that it paid what was now to him a princely sum, and also guaranteed him an attractive experience at some one else's expense.

On his arrival Levy gave Buckner a welcome which raised his self-esteem almost to the bursting-point. A box of costly cigars and a decanter of fine brandy close at his elbow appeared to him as the height of hospitality, as one gentleman would extend it to another. And when he found that his new host manifested even as deep an interest in his previous life as his earlier friend who had provided the money, he was prepared to reciprocate in every way that lay in his power.

With the preliminary acquaintance thus happily and firmly established, Levy opened up for business.

"In this suit for divorce which your wife brought," he asked, "the summons was never served on you, was it?"

"Why, yes," Buckner replied, slowly refilling his glass from the decanter; "it was served on me by a man named Murray, at Colorado Springs."

"Oh, dear; oh, dear!" groaned Levy, with a mixture of pathos and incredulity, "what an unfortunate memory you have! There was no one else in Colorado Springs who knew about it, I presume?"

"Not there," Buckner answered; "I sent the paper to a lawyer in Denver named Jennings."

"But there was no correspondence between you?"

"Yes; there were two or three letters."

"Where is Jennings now?"

"Dead, for all I know," he responded, with a cheerfulness which came from his comfortable environment rather than from any particular pleasure from the possible demise of the gentleman in question. "He moved away from Denver later, and I haven't heard of him since."

Levy was absorbed in his own thoughts for several moments, which time was profitably employed by Buckner again to replenish his glass, and to help himself to a fresh cigar.

"Look here, Buckner." Levy spoke so suddenly that his companion guiltily replaced the unlighted cigar in the box. "How difficult would it be for you to forget that you ever had a summons served on you, provided there was enough in it to make it worth while?"

Buckner boldly placed the cigar between his lips and straightened up.

"What's the game?" he asked. "Tell me what's up, and perhaps we can make a trade."

"I have a client who might like to see that divorce decree set aside," Levy began.

"Another friend of mine, eh?" Buckner laughed at his own joke. "Never knew before I was so popular." The brandy was getting in its work. "Every one is interested in my marriage troubles, and here's one wants to give me back my wife!"

"Never mind that," Levy stopped him. "This client of mine isn't interested in you or in your wife, but he evidently has a private spite against Gorham, who married her. He may not care to push it, but, if he does, do you see what the game is?"

"Sure I do, sure I do," Buckner answered, thickly. "Damned good game--I'll play it with you. It would hit her hard, too, wouldn't it?"

"What do you care if it does?"

"I don't care--glad of it--that's the special reason why I'm willing to play the game."

"All right; we'll get down to business. I'm going to draw up an affidavit that, as far as the divorce proceedings are concerned, you never retained any lawyer, and never were served with a summons, either in Colorado Springs or anywhere else; that you never knew of the pending of the action, nor that this suit was to be brought to trial. And you are to swear to this, do you understand?"

Buckner whistled suggestively. "What's the financial proposition?"

"Five thousand dollars if I use it; five hundred if I don't."

"Suppose Jennings turns up with those letters. There's a penalty for that, isn't there?"

"We'll take good care that Jennings doesn't turn up," Levy assured him, "and we would be taking all the risk."

It was Buckner's turn to become absorbed, and this time it was Levy who refilled his glass.

"It would be a lot of money," he muttered to himself, as he nervously gulped the brandy down, "and it would hit her hard. Go ahead, Levy. Draw up your damned paper and I'll sign it. Never knew I was so popular, anyhow."

Levy left him for a few moments while he dictated the affidavit, returning to his private office while the stenographer was writing out her notes.

"I don't suppose you know anything about the personal affairs of Mrs. Buckner-Gorham which would be of assistance to us in this case, do you?"

Buckner thought hard. Ideas came slowly to him in his present condition, but at last he looked up with an expression which interested the lawyer.

"She thought herself too good for me," he muttered, "but there is something I should like to have her explain," he said.

"And what is that?" Levy asked, quickly jumping at a possible clew.

"After she found me in the trail she disappeared for two weeks before she returned to her father's ranch, and I should like to know where she spent that time."

"Where do you think she spent it?"

"I don't know for sure, but there are people who say she was with a prospector in his shack four or five miles from my ranch. I didn't hear about it until afterward; but, anyhow, there was a man rode back with her to her father's ranch who got her into the hospital in Denver after she found her father was dead. She thinks she's better than I am, but, just the same, I'd like to know who that man was."

Levy quickly made a few notes. "I think I may be able to assist you in gratifying that desire," he remarked.

* * * * *

The next day after receiving the message, Covington again found himself within Levy's dingy offices, and this time he experienced no delay in being conducted to the sanctum in the rear, where he found the lawyer ready to receive him with a genial smile and a cordiality which expressed itself in the briskness with which he rubbed his hands together.

"I think you will be well pleased with the rapid progress of our investigations," Levy began.

"I judged so by your letter." Covington was noncommittal.

"There will be no difficulty in having the divorce decree granted to Mrs. Buckner--now Mrs. Gorham--set aside whenever you say the word. Here is the affidavit of Buckner himself, and the fellow is not only willing but eager to push the case through."

Covington took the document in his hand and examined it carefully. Then: "How would you undertake to do it?" he asked.

"It is a principle of our firm not to discuss methods with our clients. Results are what count, and our reputation for securing these is perhaps a sufficient guarantee that my statement is based on facts."

"Your position is undoubtedly fully justified," Covington replied, a slight expression of amusement showing in his face. "We hardly need to discuss that phase of it, however, as this is probably as far as I shall ask you to go."

"Oh, Mr. Covington, you wouldn't drop a nice case like this, would you?" Levy begged. "There is a lot of money in it for both of us."

Covington answered him, coldly: "I believe the terms of our business arrangement were clearly understood at the beginning."

"Yes, but it is such a nice case," Levy still pleaded. "You need not appear in it at all if you don't want to. Mr. Buckner can become the plaintiff, and it need not cost you anything. We can make Mr. Gorham pay all the bills."

"That's enough of that," was the sharp reply. "Now, what was it that you found out about Mrs. Gorham's early history?"

Levy accepted the inevitable with equanimity, contenting himself with a gesture which expressed more than words.

"I have learned that after her child's death Mrs. Gorham, then Mrs. Buckner, disappeared for a period of two weeks, during which time she is alleged to have lived in a prospector's shack alone with him. Do you catch the significance?"

Covington again held out his hand, taking the second affidavit, which he scrutinized with the same care he gave the first.

"This is merely the unconfirmed statement of a prejudiced party," he remarked; "it is of no value unless you could prove it."

Levy smiled. "My dear Mr. Covington, we can prove anything--that is our business."

"Well"--Covington rose--"you seem to have carried out your end of the affair." He drew a roll of bills from his pocket. "Here is the balance due you. If I decide to make use of these documents, I will see you again and make a trade. Kindly give me an acknowledgment of my payment."

Levy held up a hand protestingly. "I explained before that we never give receipts--"

"Oh, yes; it had slipped my mind," Covington acquiesced.

"I hope to see you again soon, Mr. Covington," Levy said in parting. "It is a nice case, such a nice case."