Chapter 18

Litchfield drew some papers from his pocket and handed them to Gorham. "We don't undertake to criticise you for making the most of this opportunity," he said, "but out of respect to your ridiculous 'code,' we have ourselves refrained. Next time we shall expect you to give us a chance too; and, incidentally, don't you think we can now come to a mutual understanding regarding the morality basis of the Consolidated Companies?"

"Where did you get these papers?" Gorham demanded.

"From Mr. Brady, who was interested enough to supply us with the sworn statements which you see here."

"Do you really believe that I invested a penny of my money in that stock?"

"Come, Gorham, admit that the joke's on you," Litchfield laughed. "Of course, it was your daughter who did it, and, of course, you knew nothing about it!--Don't try to hide behind her skirts."

Gorham looked across to where Covington was sitting, pale and unnerved by the unexpected development. He might have suspected this, but the remoteness of the chance had as a matter of fact precluded any thought of the possibility. Gorham started to speak, but checked himself. He could not bring his daughter's name into this discussion without more time to consider the situation. Then he turned again to his associates.

"Gentlemen," he said, quietly, "it seems hardly necessary for me to make this statement, but I wish to put myself on record: I have never invested one cent of my own money, or any one else's, in any stock whose value was likely to be affected by the action of the Consolidated Companies. No one else has ever done so with my knowledge or consent. I shall have more to say upon this matter when I have had sufficient time to acquaint myself with all the facts. Until then, I ask that this meeting be adjourned, subject to an early call."

Litchfield, puzzled, as were the others, by Gorham's flat denial in the face of the overwhelming evidence, put the motion for adjournment which the president requested.

XXVII

The bachelor apartment-house which Allen Sanford called his home in New York, though constantly referred to by him as his "two by twice hall bedroom," was considerably more pretentious and expensive than a young man receiving his modest income would ordinarily have selected; yet when he decided upon it, the chief point in question was whether or not it suited his tastes. The fact that the rent alone exceeded the salary assured him by his position in the Consolidated Companies did not strike him as of any particular significance. He had sold his motor before leaving Washington, and with this nest-egg and what remained of his last allowance to draw upon, the necessity of economy had not occurred to him. "I've eaten up the tires, and now I'm beginning on the chassis," he had once remarked in conversation; but with characteristic confidence in the future, he made no provision for the time when he should have thoroughly fletcherized the entire machine.

Now that he had joined the army of the unemployed, and had decided to return to Pittsburgh, it was incumbent upon him to pack up his belongings. This was a project which failed to appeal to him. He had formally terminated his connection with the Consolidated Companies on the day before, and this Sunday morning had been set apart by him for his tremendous undertaking. His trunks were in the middle of the floor, and his clothes deposited in various stages of disorder upon every chair in the room, preparatory to making the start toward packing which appalled him. The empty drawers of the dresser and the chiffonnier, and the bare hooks of the closet bore silent tribute to the thoroughness of his work thus far.

He was sitting upon the edge of a trunk, regarding in dismay the confusion around him and wondering where to make a start, when the bell rang vigorously. He opened the door in surprise, and was relieved to find no more formidable a visitor than the elevator boy.

"A young lady down-stairs to see you, sir."

"A--what?" demanded Allen.

"She wouldn't give her name, sir."

"I'll be right down," he cried, slamming the door unceremoniously in the boy's face, and rushing into his coat and waistcoat. Could it be that Alice had really meant what she said that night, and had come to convince him of it! There was a girl for you! He would never accept the sacrifice, he told himself resolutely, still he fairly danced as he straightened his necktie, tripped over his evening clothes, which he had knocked onto the floor, and almost stumbled over a little figure in the hallway, as he threw open the door and started to rush to the elevator.

"They wouldn't let me come up in the elevator, so I walked," announced Patricia, looking up at him with a beaming smile.

"What are you doing here? Is Alice down-stairs?" Allen demanded, completely bewildered by the unexpected apparition.

"I've come to go away with you, and Alice is at home," the child answered, simply. "Papa said you were going back to Pittsburgh. Aren't you glad to see me? I've got all my things packed up in this bag, except my _Knights of the Round Table_, which wouldn't go in, so I carried it under my arm."

He looked at her, speechless with astonishment as she proudly held up the diminutive satchel and displayed her precious volume.

"Of course I'm glad to see you, Lady Pat," he said at length; "but you ought not to come here alone, you know."

"I'm not alone," she insisted. "Riley is down-stairs in my pony cart. Phillips didn't know where you lived, but he's only a groom, so I brought Riley. Now, how shall we get rid of him, and have you made a hundred thousand dollars with my money?"

"I'm ashamed to say I haven't--I was too late. The storks had all gone South for the winter, but I must give you back your bank."

Allen turned into his room, closely followed by Patricia.

"Then you haven't money enough to get married?" she asked in a pathetic little voice. Suddenly her face brightened. "But I don't mind; I'll keep house for you without any money; and storks always come to newly married people, I've heard them say so."

"We couldn't do that, Lady Pat; we'd starve to death unless we ate the storks. Come, let's go and find Riley."

But Riley's anxiety had resulted in his anticipating them, and the familiar face at that moment showed above the stairway, as the old man approached them, out of breath.

"Ah, there ye are, praise be ter th' Virgin Mary," he panted. "Ah, sich a mess as ye're gettin' poor old Riley in. I cudn't hilp it, Misther Allen, I cudn't nohow," heading off any criticism from that quarter--"she wud have it, and that's th' ind iv it. I'm thinkin' that's why they named her Miss Pat--'tis th' Irish persistency iv her name that crops out, an' th' cajolery. I cudn't hilp it, nohow."

"Of course he couldn't help it." Patricia assented. "I had to see you, and some one had to show me where you lived. But you may go now if you want to, Riley."

"We had better come inside and talk it over--if we can get in," Allen suggested, opening the door again, and pushing the things one side.

"Ah, Misther Allen--all ye'er clothes will be spiled, kickin' 'round like this. Shall I fold 'em up an' put 'em in th' thrunks fer ye, sor?"

Riley was in his element again, and Allen grasped at the old man's offer with an eagerness not assumed.

"That's just the thing," he said. "You pack the trunk, Riley, while Lady Pat and I sit on the window-seat and have a little visit."

"Here are my things, too, Riley." Patricia handed the old man her satchel and book. "Perhaps you'd better pack those on top."

"Why should I pack thim in Misther Allen's thrunk?" he demanded.

"Because we're going away to be married," she announced, grandly. "You are the first one in the family to know it, and you mustn't tell."

Riley started to speak, but a signal from Allen silenced him; so he continued his work, bringing order out of chaos so quickly that he won instant admiration.

"Now, look here, Lady Pat," said Allen, kindly, as the child sat on her heels in front of him on the window-seat, "we must talk this matter over very carefully."

"Yes, Sir Launcelot," Patricia assented, expectantly.

"In the first place, I have made your father very angry with me."

"Were you a naughty boy?"

"He thinks so, and he must be right; but it wouldn't do to make him any more angry by taking you away without his permission. You see that, don't you?"

"But they wouldn't blame you--they'd blame me," the child persisted. "Alice would frown at me and say 'Pa-tri-ci-a.' Papa would be severe and say, 'I shall have to ask mamma Eleanor to punish you,' and mamma Eleanor would look sad and say, 'Oh, my darling,' But she'd forget all about it as soon as I kissed her."

"No; they would blame me, because I'm older--and, besides, a true knight could never stand by and see his Lady Fair blamed, could he? The only thing is for me to go away, and for you to go back home with Riley, and then, later, for me to storm the castle and carry you off."

"But if you did that, you might carry off Alice instead of me," she objected.

"That's so," Allen assented, laughing, "unless she hurries up and gets married. That was our agreement, Lady Pat--as long as Alice is free, we can't make any plans for ourselves."

"Wouldn't it be grand to have you storm the castle and carry me off!" Patricia was quite taken by the idea. "Anyhow, next to Alice, you love me best, don't you, Sir Launcelot?"

"I certainly do," Allen said, truthfully. "Now, you'll go home with Riley and wait to see what happens, won't you?"

"All right," the child said, entirely satisfied. "Gee, but I wish Mr. Covington would hurry up!"

Patricia rose obediently and took Riley's hand, as they left the room.

"Wit ye well," she said as she bade Allen good-bye at the elevator. "I shall wait at the window with a silken ladder every night until you come."

Allen turned slowly back into his room, closed the door, and sat down alone on the window-seat which had so recently also sustained his animated little companion. Not until now had the full force of the wrench come upon him, and he was conscious of a lump in his throat as he thought of Alice, first always, then of Mr. Gorham, and last of the city itself. During the months since he had accidentally met Alice in Washington, there had never been a wavering of his purpose. She was the one girl to him among the many he met during the social rounds into which he had plunged while living in New York. He had been undaunted by her attitude, undismayed by the seeming hopelessness of it all--but now her very sympathy proved to him the necessity of at last giving up the one great hope upon which he had set his heart. The pain at separating from his chief, while of a different nature, was no less keen. Mr. Gorham still stood to Allen as the epitome of the best that a man could express. The shock which had come to him when Gorham admitted a knowledge of Covington's investment of Alice's money, did not weaken his respect for the man, but rather was the final event to convince him that his own conception of business must be entirely wrong. If Mr. Gorham sanctioned it, then it was right, it could be nothing else; but all his efforts, conscientious as he knew them to have been, to master the intricacies of the code his preceptor had tried to teach him, had accomplished nothing.

And the great city, which contained so many of his classmates and friends, who had made him welcome in their homes, must in the future receive him only as a stranger. He loved the individuality of the great towering buildings, the wonderful harbor with its kaleidoscopic shipping, the surging masses of the striving people in the streets, the blinding glare of Broadway at night, and the tense, eager business competition keeping each man, irrespective of position, constantly on his taps to hold his own or to forge ahead against the incoming tide of growing prosperity. Everything he craved seemed centred here, yet he had been a part of it all, and had failed to keep his grip. His opportunity had been given him, and he had not taken advantage of it. The city contained no room for failures--only those who could force success from its grinding turmoil belonged within its ever-grasping arms. He must turn his back upon it all, and go to some place less critical, less overpowering, taking with him as memories, in place of triumphs, the thoughts of what might have been.

Amid the gloom which surrounded him, a childish face forced its sweet features upon him, and it relieved the tension of the moment. Dear little Patricia, at least, had faith in him. Alice's attitude was that of sympathy and pity, but little Pat saw in him, the failure, those attributes which belong to the Knight Courageous, undaunted by the hostile flings of Fortune. As she grew older, she too would discover that the gold was paint and the silver, tinsel; but until then, he knew her faith was in him. He pressed his hands against his aching temples--"God bless her for that," he said, softly, "God bless her for that."

XXVIII

The first train which left Pittsburgh after the arrival of Mr. Gorham's letter bore Stephen Sanford to New York. Gorham had found time, even with the pressure of the conflicting details, to write his old friend at length regarding the situation which made it necessary for Allen to terminate his connection with the Consolidated Companies. There was no word of censure against the boy--he even took pains to express in full his admiration for certain sterling qualities which this, Allen's first business experience, had brought out.

"_The time has come_," he wrote, "_when Allen needs the sympathy and assistance of his father more than he ever has, or ever will need it again. I believe I know you well enough, Stephen, to feel certain that you won't refuse it to him simply because he has not asked for it. What I have tried to do for him has been more for your sake than for his own, though you have misunderstood my motive. The boy has developed rapidly, and possesses an ability for business naturally inherited from you; but when his mind is once made up it seems impossible to change him. I hope you will set him a good example by showing him your own strength of character in going to him now. As for our relations, Stephen, in spite of the last stormy interview, and your attitude since, I know that I have no firmer friend than you, and you know well that my affection for you has not lessened because of anything so trivial as what has passed. Old friends are like old wine in more than one respect--the explosion made by the blowing out of the cork does not affect the quality. Come to me first, and let me tell you the whole story_."

"I'll do nothing of the sort," Sanford fumed as he finished the letter; yet the first train leaving Pittsburgh which he could catch carried him to New York.

The months which had intervened had left their impress upon him, and his friends had noticed it, though ignorant of the cause. Allen had been away from home so much during the past few years, that his failure to appear beneath the parental roof after his return from Europe was no occasion for comment. Yet it was not the fact that he was separated from the boy that wore on Stephen Sanford, but rather the knowledge that a barrier had arisen between them. He had honestly expected that Allen would refuse to take him seriously when he cast him adrift. They had quarrelled before and nothing had come of it, so he had no reason to think that this would be any exception. He knew the boy's tastes, and while blaming him for his extravagances, he was proud to have him "live like a gentleman." Even with the income assured from the position given him by Mr. Gorham, Sanford knew how small it must be compared with the allowance which Allen had previously received; and he suffered over again the privations of his own youth while thinking of the self-denials which his son must be obliged to practise. Picturing him living in a hall bedroom of meagre proportions, taking his meals at cheap restaurants and generally resorting to those economies common to ambitious youth fighting its battle against the world, the father would many times have sent him a substantial check if he could have made sure that the source would remain unknown.

Yet he insisted to himself that Allen must come to him. He would respond to Gorham's letter to the extent of going to New York and discussing the matter, but he refused to admit any possibility of a reconciliation unless the overtures came from the boy himself. As he hastened to arrange matters for his departure, he muttered imprecations against him with the same breath that drew an unquestioned joy from the thought that a sight of him was near at hand; and no idea entered his mind other than to reach New York at the earliest possible moment.

Covington was surprised that the blow did not fall upon him immediately after the meeting of the committee adjourned. He was ignorant of the exact contents of the papers handed to Gorham by Litchfield, but they could scarcely fail to give his chief all the information necessary to show his connection with the transaction, and he knew well how great would be Gorham's resentment. Yet no mention was made of the matter during the few minutes which remained of the business day after the others had taken their departure. There were two or three routine matters which Gorham turned over to him, with a few words of comment, then he said good-night and left the office. Could it be that something still intervened to keep the real facts covered up?

All doubts were removed the following morning. Gorham sent for him to come to his office, and when he appeared he found that Brady was also present. Covington seemed not to recognize him, but Brady's face assumed a significant and satisfied expression.

"Mr. Brady has been good enough to respond to my request," Gorham began, "and is here to supply me with fuller details concerning the matter which was brought up at the meeting of the committee yesterday. As it interests you even more than it does me, I have asked you to be present during our interview."

Covington seated himself in silence.

"Now, Mr. Brady," Gorham continued, "I understand that you made a statement to Mr. Litchfield to the effect that I had personally secured some of the stock in the New York Street Railways Company, with a view to profiting by the advance in price made inevitable by its proposed merger into the Manhattan Traction Company, of which I was cognizant at the time."

"No, I didn't say all that," Brady protested; "I simply said that a big block of the stock was bought for you. It wasn't necessary to say why."

"But you don't really believe that this stock was purchased for me, or with my knowledge, do you?"

Few men could resist the frank appeal of Gorham's eyes when he chose to exert it, and Brady was not one of these. He moved uncomfortably in his chair, and laughed consciously.

"Why, no, guv'nor, since you put it that way, man to man, I don't."

"Then why did you say what you did? I can't blame you for harboring some resentment against me because I interfered with your plans in that railway deal, but this statement is so easily refuted that I wonder why you made it. It was to discover this that I asked you to come here this morning."

Brady looked over at Covington meaningly. "That was just why I did do it," he said. "I knew it would bring out certain facts that I wanted to have known. I ain't harborin' any resentment against you. You licked me, an' I took my medicine. P'raps I've worried you a bit in Washington since,--that's another matter. I'm a sport all right, an' I know when to take my hat off to any man. But there is other slick Alecks, who think they're so all-fired smart, that I like to get even with when they try to be funny with me,--an' there's one of 'em sittin' in that chair over there now."

"Well--go on." Gorham encouraged him as he paused, at the same time studying the unexpressive face of Covington as the man progressed.

"Just before that railway deal was put through, an' Harris an' me was feelin' nervous about you gettin' so close to the big stockholders, I found out that this Covington here was saltin' away some good blocks of stock of the New York Street Railways Company. He wasn't buyin' them direct, you understand, an' the stool-pigeon he was usin' happened to be one of my own men. Then I sent Harris to see Covington, to get his influence with you to let our personal scheme go through, usin' the little information we had gained to act as an argument to help him make up his mind. He see the game was up, of course, an' then he tried to be smart. He had it all figured out that if he could unload that stock on your daughter, it would make things run easier for him when the facts come out. I wouldn't have held this up against him, for it was nothin' but a cheap trick, but then he come to us of his own accord, an' told us that you an' him had gone all over the matter, an' you was goin' to let the thing go through all right. Well, you remember what happened. He evidently went right back to you an' told you what we had up our sleeve. I swore then I'd get even with him, an' this is the way I chose to do it."

"That's the whole story, is it?" Gorham asked.

"Yes; unless friend Covington here can add a few details."

"I don't think he can,--but you do him an injustice in thinking that he spoke to me of your plans. His failure to do so is noteworthy, but it affects others rather than yourself. I am exceedingly obliged to you for your time and frankness. I will not detain you further unless Mr. Covington would like to make any comments."

"I have nothing to say," Covington replied.

Gorham waited until Brady had made his departure before he turned to the man sitting in silence before him.

"This is all that is needed to make the blow complete, is it not?" he asked, in a voice which betrayed the feeling beneath by its quiet restraint. "Even the awakening which came to me when the committee showed their real selves was not enough. I still believed that I could carry through my purpose, and I relied on you to help make this possible. I, who felt myself strong enough to undertake the revolutionizing of the business world because of my magnificent support, find myself, like Samson, shorn of my strength, and face to face with a realization that man is by nature the cringing slave of the almighty dollar. He may, for a time, or for a purpose, disguise it even from himself, but when the real test comes, he dare not disregard the compelling voice of his master. This is enough of an awakening, but think of the pain which accompanies it when one finds that the friend in whom he trusted, that the one man whom he was most proud to honor, fails even to measure up to the simple test of honesty! Oh, Covington, I find it hard to bring myself to believe it!"

"What do you propose to do?" Covington asked.

"First of all, I shall place the facts before the Directors. They at least shall know that I have not been false to them or to myself."

"When will you do this?"

"As soon as possible,--this afternoon if I can get them together."

"Would you mind postponing it until to-morrow?"

"What is to be gained by that?"

"May I have an interview with you at your house to-night? It is for this that I ask the postponement."

"Certainly," Gorham replied, wonderingly. "I will see you at nine o'clock."

"I thank you," said Covington, rising and leaving the office without further comment.

XXIX

Gorham received two callers on that Saturday night. Sanford came first, and the heartiness of the welcome extended him thawed out the blustering exterior which made it so difficult for the warm heart underneath to assert itself.