Part 19

Ilingsworth crossed to her side and looked down upon her kindly.

"My dear child, it was you that saved me. We all know what would have happened if the Governor had never seen you. I don't want to tell anybody, and I'm sure Elinor doesn't, either; nor am I sure that I am under obligations to tell anybody. I bought the gun to kill; you killed in a fit of anger. We're in precisely the same position, aren't we? We had murder in our souls and this man Wilkinson put it there."

"I want you to know," she went on falteringly, "that all the lies I've told, all the things I've done, all the weakness that's in me; he's responsible for them all. There was never anybody in my life but Peter Wilkinson."

There was a long silence. Giles Ilingsworth was the first to break it.

"Miss Braine, I've been trying to figure out some way so that we can all take care of each other. We all seem to need looking after. Perhaps my courage and strength will come back now that my own little girl has been returned to me. I've got to make a home for her, you see--there'll be a place there for you, too, always, if you'll come."

Madeline had not expected so much kindness, and the tears began to roll down her cheeks.

"May we come in?" asked a voice at the door.

And Leslie Wilkinson, a new light in her face--a light that was worth while, for she had solved a weighty problem in the last half-hour--once more entered, Beekman following close at her heels.

"There are some things I wish to say to ex-Governor Beekman in the presence of you all--some things that you don't know, though I've heard some of you charge my father with them," she went on, her face paling. "I learned the truth myself less than a month ago, Eliot," now turning to him, "that somewhere and somehow there are standing in my name securities amounting to a hundred million dollars. I know it's so--I can testify to it--they don't belong to me."

"They belong to Wilkinson," broke in Ilingsworth. "I've known it all along, but I've never been able to prove it."

"They don't belong to my father," went on Leslie, her eyes meeting Beekman's in triumph, "but to the depositors in my father's trust companies."

Beekman looked at the girl in amazement, Ilingsworth muttered something to himself and was about to speak, but Leslie interrupted him.

"One word more, Mr. Ilingsworth, if you please," she said. And again turning to Beekman, she went on: "Eliot, you know that I have money in my own right--money to do with as I wish. Therefore, I retain you now, not on my own behalf, but on behalf of half a million depositors in three States, to start a fight to get that money back. We'll begin right now," she concluded, her voice ringing with determination, "with Giles Ilingsworth. You are retained by him...."

The fire leaped into Beekman's eyes; he sniffed with excitement.

"Half a million depositors!" he cried, hope growing in his voice. "That means half a million clients. I'm still a counsellor-at-law--the good old Appellate Division withstood all attempts to disbar me. Half a million clients--yes, I accept."

"What about the evidence?" queried Ilingsworth.

Beekman held up his hand.

"The Bank Le Boeuf of Buffalo--they charged these things. They must have evidence...."

"I can furnish some," said Ilingsworth.

"I have overheard Peter Wilkinson," faltered Madeline Braine.

"And so have I," cried Leslie; "and besides, everything is in my name, and I won't sign another paper or pay out another dollar until everybody has had his rights."

Leaving Ilingsworth with his two charges joyfully planning their future, Eliot and Leslie returned to the next room.

"We've got a long fight ahead, Leslie--a running fight, as Colonel Morehead calls it, but I'm ready. Come, we begin to-night--we cannot start too soon."

"You remind me of that night," Leslie whispered, "that night when you brought the ring." He seemed scarcely to hear her, the room was reeling about him. But the girl, knowing that she must do the wooing if she were to win him back at all, went over to him, and, laying an affectionate hand upon his shoulder as she looked up into his eyes, she said very tenderly now:

"Eliot, if we're going to fight, don't you think we'll fight better if we fight together? I wouldn't dare to ask you this if I didn't see the hunger in your eyes for me just as the hunger is in my heart for you. And Eliot," she went on, nestling closer all the while, "won't you marry me to-night--won't you say you will?"

This sudden rush of happiness was too much for Beekman, and he could hardly speak. For answer he drew his arm round her waist and pressed her close to him, their lips meeting in one long kiss, as they had that night so long ago, when she had promised herself to him.

A little while later, Beekman drew his shabby coat about him, but Leslie saw nothing but the man underneath it. His shoulders that had been drooping under the burden of adversity, when she entered the room, now squared themselves; his mouth was firm, and his eyes sparkled as side by side they passed out into the darkness.

* * * * *

"What do you want of me?" Wilkinson was saying as he glanced first at Flomerfelt and then at his wife. They had bearded him in his Den a little while before, broken in upon his reverie, and instinctively he felt that their presence there augured no good to him.

It was Flomerfelt who answered:

"Thirds, Wilkinson. One-third for me and one for Mrs. Wilkinson."

"By what right do you demand it?" asked Peter V., lolling back in his chair. "And you?" he added, looking at his wife.

"I'll tell everything----" began Mrs. Peter V. But Flomerfelt interposed with:

"She's your wife, Wilkinson." And lowering his voice, he continued: "Your property is personalty, stocks and bonds. In case of your death she would be entitled to a third. She merely asks her right."

"In case of my death," mused Wilkinson. "But I'm not going to die--not yet," he added, a moment later.

Flomerfelt's brows contracted, his eyes narrowed, he looked Wilkinson full in the face.

"How do you know you're not?" he asked.

"Is that a threat?" asked Wilkinson, rising.

Flomerfelt, who hoped in the long run to wind up in Paris with two-thirds of Peter's hidden fortune, for he expected that Mrs. Peter V., with her third, in time would join him there, was glad to note that at his suggestion of death the woman had regarded him once more with fear. She had believed him responsible for the death of Roy Pallister, and he had fostered this belief, had held her within the circle of conspiracy, had held her as one chargeable, too, with death of the boy. It was a safe venture, for not once had he by word of mouth connected himself with that tragedy. Indeed, he had not the slightest idea as to who was responsible for it, but all through he felt that Mrs. Peter V., believing him responsible, felt herself mixed up, felt, too, perhaps, that they had gone too far. And, watching her out of the tail of his eye, he held his glance impudently upon Wilkinson's face.

"Not a threat, but a surmise," he answered in the same even tone. "People have sought your life before, you know," he went on, his face breaking out into a disagreeable smile, "and even you have attempted suicide. If you should die, what would become of her?"

"When I die will be time enough to talk about it," snarled Wilkinson. And thrusting his face now into that of the other, he demanded: "Come, what's the game? Lay your cards down on the table--out into the open. Why do you want a third ...?"

"Chiefly because I've earned it."

"Earned it! I took you out of the gutter, you ingrate!"

Flomerfelt shrugged his shoulders.

"If I haven't earned it so far, then I shall earn it in the future," he said.

"How?"

"By keeping silent in the presence of one person."

"Who?"

Flomerfelt smiled, but did not answer.

"Leslie Wilkinson, of course," put in Mrs. Peter V.

"I don't understand," muttered Wilkinson, once more puffing on his cigar. "Why silent in her presence? What's that to me?"

"It isn't necessary to go over the facts," returned Flomerfelt. "To be brief, you've got a mint of money in her hands, which she knows nothing about. You know where it is, the missus knows, and I know. Some chaps in Vienna know, thirds for us, or tell her ...?"

Peter laughed aloud.

"Tell her if you want to," he roared. "But do you suppose she'd give the game away? She! Why, she's the only trump I ever had about me! She'll stick through thick and thin! Tell her and be hanged!"

Flomerfelt held up his hands, saying:

"I must say that you don't know your own daughter."

"You're a fool, Peter!" said his wife, sharply.

"The instant the girl knows, it's all up with you, my friend," went on Flomerfelt. "But she needs managing, watching. It takes more than you to manage, to watch her, too. What is it--thirds for us, or tell her...."

Peter turned his back upon them.

"Tell her and be hanged!" he said.

Flomerfelt's eyes sought those of the lady. "What's the next move?" hers seemed to ask of him. A smile of cunning crossed his face.

"Then, Peter, we'll tell the public," he ventured.

Peter swung about, crying:

"Ah, why didn't you get down to that in the first place! I can understand that--I've understood it all along--you were bound to hold me up. I'm used to that--have had it all my life. Now, look here, Flomerfelt, I'm through with you--through with both of you. But I'm willing to be fair. I bought Leech with a million dollars, as you know. And I'll do the same with you--with her. You can take it or leave it, just as you please."

"It's not enough," spoke up Flomerfelt.

"I should think not," said the lady.

Peter V. took out his watch and said:

"I'll give you just one minute to accept."

Flomerfelt took out his watch, and answered:

"I'll give you two minutes to divide with us."

At the end of a minute they were glaring into each other's faces like beasts of prey. Wilkinson held up his hand and repeated:

"You can take it or leave it, just as you please."

"Thirds or nothing," answered the other stubbornly, at which reply Wilkinson thrust his watch into his pocket and strolled toward the door, where he waited until Flomerfelt raised his hand; and in that brief moment it was borne in upon him that he was not the Wilkinson of old, that he had, somehow, lost his grip.

"You decline?" asked Flomerfelt. "All right! Then to-morrow the whole story goes to Leslie Wilkinson."

"What whole story, Mr. Flomerfelt?" asked a young woman, now entering the room, and so pleasantly that for a moment Flomerfelt fell back aghast.

"What story, Mr. Flomerfelt?" she repeated. But again he did not answer. And her father, taking his courage in both hands, came forward and said:

"The time has come, girlie, when you've got to make a choice for life--you've got to tell me where you stand--on my side or theirs."

Leslie slowly retreated to the door; a man entered and stood beside her.

"I've made my choice, father. This is Eliot Beekman, my husband," she announced bravely, a smile on her lips.

Wilkinson could not believe his ears. For a moment he did not speak, but looked helplessly from one to the other; and Leslie, waiting for the words that did not come, saw her step-mother grow pale, saw Flomerfelt's fingers stealthily grope into the depths of his sleeves, draw down his cuffs, and heave a sigh as he watched the latter settle into place.

"Yes, father, I've made my choice," she repeated, placing her hand in Beekman's.

It was indeed an odd-looking pair that Wilkinson looked upon: the girl all smiles and gladness, happy in the love that she had at last won; the man, a scarecrow, almost, his ragged coat revealing a ragged flannel shirt and clothes worn thread-bare. He frowned. For an instant he seemed vengeance personified.

"You----" faltered her father.

"Mr. Wilkinson," cried Beekman, advancing to that individual, "I've come back to strip you naked as the day you were born, and I'm going to do it, too."

"You'll have a good time doing it," Wilkinson answered with bravado, although a growing fear was upon him.

"I expect to, I assure you," returned the other, "for I represent the depositors in your rotten banks. Once they sought your life, Mr. Wilkinson,"--for even he didn't know the truth,--"and now they're after money--the money that belongs to them and not to you. I've started in to get it, I've come to get possession of it, to find out where it is."

"You'll have a good time doing it," was all that Peter V. could find, apparently, to say.

"All I want to know is the name of the safe deposit vault where you keep your securities. I'll be content with that, Mr. Wilkinson."

"What securities?" Wilkinson paled.

"All of them--everything," answered Beekman.

Wilkinson started, glared at Leslie, then he sank into a chair, for he saw that she knew and had judged him, condemned him.

"You see, what you got for your pains," Wilkinson said presently to Flomerfelt, sneeringly.

Flomerfelt nodded; but as the two men stared at each other, they registered a silent pact; Flomerfelt agreed with Wilkinson, and Wilkinson agreed with Flomerfelt, that there should be a truce.

This Beekman was a common enemy, and there must be no disclosures now: to give the game away would be to rob them both of everything.

"You may as well answer, Mr. Wilkinson," continued Beekman, "for I'm determined on cleaning you up from top to toe. I'm your enemy and I shall make it my business to represent every other enemy you have. I've begun with Ilingsworth. I'm going to clear his name, put him where he belongs; I'm going to clear up mysteries and let daylight into the hidden places,--every mystery from the giving of your million-dollar bail bond to the secret of your pardon. Nothing shall escape me, I'll even ferret out the mystery of the death of Pallister, for," and his finger pointed straight toward Wilkinson, "for all I know you're at the bottom of that thing yourself."

"Fidelity Deposit vaults," came gasping from the throat of Mrs. Peter V. from the other side of the room; and holding out her hands pleadingly toward Beekman, she added:

"I had nothing, nothing whatever, to do with the murder of Roy. I am innocent, I can prove my innocence. I'll tell all I know. The Fidelity Deposit vaults--that's where...." She sank cowering into a chair.

Flomerfelt realised now that he had made an egregious blunder in his method of the past: this wholesome fear that he had instilled in her had been his own undoing, a boomerang. But he was not yet through; he saw another loophole open for him.

"Peter," he cried, "come to my terms and I'll help you to fight. If you don't----"

Beekman stood by with folded arms. He had come there in a sort of frenzy, to give vent to his pent-up sense of injury. He had regretted his coming, it is true, the instant he stepped inside of the room. Yet it was this same frenzy, this determined air of his, this sweeping into the open and offering fight, they had really done the trick, struck terror to the hearts of all three.

And now he actually smiled. Flomerfelt's game suddenly became clear, and Beekman knew that they were playing right into his hands. So he waited in silence.

"Wilkinson," cried Flomerfelt, with quick, incisive tones, like dagger thrusts they were, "which shall it be?"

"Neither!" exclaimed Wilkinson, his clenched hand crashing down upon the table, and then going over to his son-in-law, he laid his chubby hand upon his shoulder and said: "Eliot, my boy, you've got me beat--but I'm going to surrender, and--" he leered at Flomerfelt and Mrs. Peter V.; then added: "and not be given up."

A moment later Flomerfelt started softly for the door, followed by Mrs. Peter V. But Beekman barred the way.

"Hold on there!" he cried. "Peter V. Wilkinson possibly is immune from further criminal prosecution, but I don't know about you two. But whatever part you've had in the conspiracy you may be sure that I'll find out. There's no escape for you."

* * * * * *

Transcriber's note:

Obvious typographical and punctuation errors have been corrected.

Blank pages opposite illustrations have been removed.