XII
ONE LEARNED IN THE LAW
It was evening, when Croyden returned to Hampton--an evening whichcontained no suggestion of the Autumn he had left behind him on theEastern Shore. It was raw, and damp, and chill, with the presage ofwinter in its cold; the leaves were almost gone from the trees, theblackening hand of frost was on flower and shrubbery. As he passed upthe dreary, deserted street, the wind was whistling through thebranches over head, and moaning around the houses like spirits of thedamned.
He turned in at Clarendon--shivering a little at the prospect. He wasbeginning to appreciate what a winter spent under such conditionsmeant, where one's enjoyments and recreations are circumscribed by thebounds of comparatively few houses and few people--people, hesuspected, who could not understand what he missed, of the hurly-burlyof life and amusement, even if they tried. Their ways were sufficientfor them; they were eminently satisfied with what they had; they couldnot comprehend dissatisfaction in another, and would have no patiencewith it.
He could imagine the dismalness of Hampton, when contrasted with thebrightness of Northumberland. The theatres, the clubs, the constantdinners, the evening affairs, the social whirl with all that itcomprehended, compared with an occasional dinner, a rare party,interminable evenings spent, by his own fireside, alone! Alone! Alone!
To be sure, Miss Carrington, and Miss Borden, and Miss Lashiel, andMiss Tilghman, would be available, when they were home. But the winterwas when they went visiting, he remembered, from late November untilearly April, and, at that period, the town saw them but little. Therewas the Hampton Club, of course, but it was worse than nothing--anopportunity to get mellow and to gamble, innocent enough to those whowere habituated to it, but dangerous to one who had fallen, byadversity, from better things....
However, Macloud would be there, shortly, thank God! And the dear girlswere not going for a week or so, he hoped. And, when the worst came, hecould retire to the peacefulness of his library and try to eke out afour months' existence, with the books, and magazines and papers.
Moses held open the door, with a bow and a flourish, and the lightsleaped out to meet him. It was some cheer, at least, to come home to abright house, a full larder, faithful servants--and supper ready on thetable, and tuned to even a Clubman's taste.
"Moses, do you know if Miss Carrington's at home?" he asked, the coffeeon and his cigar lit.
"Yass, seh! her am home, seh, I seed she herse'f dis mornin' cum downde parf from de front poach wid de dawg, seh."
Croyden nodded and went across the hall to the telephone.
Miss Carrington, herself, answered his call.--Yes, she intended to behome all evening. She would be delighted to see him and to hear a fullaccount of himself.
He was rather surprised at his own alacrity, in finishing his cigar andchanging his clothes--and he wondered whether it was the girl, or thecompanionship, or the opportunity to be free of himself? A little ofall three, he concluded.... But, especially, the _girl_, as she camefrom the drawing-room to meet him.
"So you have really returned," she said, as he bowed over her slenderfingers. "We were beginning to fear you had deserted us."
"You are quite too modest," he replied. "You don't appreciate your ownattractions."
The "you" was plainly singular, but she refused to see it.
"Our own attractions require us to be modest," she returned; "witha--man of the world."
"Don't!" he laughed. "Whatever I may have been, I am, now, a man ofHampton."
She shook her head. "You can never be a man of Hampton."
"Why not, if I live among you?"
"If you live here--take on our ways, our beliefs, our mode of thinking,you may, in a score of years, grow like us, outwardly; but, inwardly,where the true like must start, _never_!"
"How do we differ?"
"Ask me something easier! You've been bred differently, used todifferent things, to doing them in a different way. We do thingsslowly, leisurely, with a fine disregard of time, you, with the modernrush, and bustle, and hurry. You are a man of the world--I repeatit--up to the minute in everything--never lagging behind, unless youwish. You never put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day. We neverdo anything to-day that can be put off till to-morrow."
"And which do you prefer, the to-day or the to-morrow?" he asked.
"It depends on my humor, and my location, at the time--though, I mustadmit, the to-day makes for thrift, and business, and success inacquiring wealth."
"And success also in getting rid of it. It is a return toward theprimitive condition--the survival of the fittest. There must be losersas well as acquirers."
"There's the pity of it!" she exclaimed, "that one must lose in orderthat another may gain."
"But as we are not in Utopia or Altruria," he smiled, "it will continueso to be. Why, even in Baltimore, they----"
"Oh, Baltimore is only an overgrown country town!" she exclaimed.
"Granted!" he replied. "With half a million population, it is asprovincial as Hampton, and thanks God for it--the most smug,self-satisfied, self-sufficient municipality in the land, with itscobblestones, its drains-in-the-gutters, its how much-holier-than-thouair about everything."
"But it has excellent railway facilities!" she laughed.
"Because it happens to be on the main line between Washington and theNorth."
"At least, the people are nice, barring a few mushrooms who are makinga great to-do."
"Yes, the people _are_ delightful!--And, when it comes to mushrooms,Northumberland has Baltimore beaten to a frazzle. We raise a fresh cropevery night."
"Northumberland society must be exceedingly large!" she laughed.
"It is--but it's not overcrowded. About as many die every day, as areborn every night; and, at any rate, they don't interfere with those whoreally belong--except to increase prices, and the cost of living, andclog the avenue with automobiles."
"That is progress!"
"Yes, it's progress! but whither it leads no one knows--to the devil,likely--or a lemon garden."
"'Blessed are the lemons on earth, for they shall be peaches inHeaven!'" she quoted.
"What a glorious peach your Miss Erskine will be," he replied.
"I'm afraid you don't appreciate the great honor the lady did you, incondescending to view the _treasures_ of Clarendon, and to talk aboutthem afterward. To hear her, she is the most intimate friend you havein Hampton."
"Good!" he said, "I'm glad you told me. Somehow, I'm always drawinglemons."
"Am I a lemon?" she asked, abruptly.
"You! do you think you are?"
"One can never know."
"Have I drawn _you_?" he inquired.
"Quite immaterial to the question, which is: A lemon or not a lemon?"
"If you could but see yourself at this moment, you would not ask," hesaid, looking at her with amused scrutiny.
The lovely face, the blue black hair, the fine figure in the simplepink organdie, the slender ankles, the well-shod feet--a lemon!
"But as I can't see myself, and have no mirror handy, your testimony isdesired," she insisted. "A lemon or not a lemon?"
"A lemon!" he answered.
"Then you can't have any objection----"
"If you bring Miss Erskine in?" he interrupted. "Nay! Nay! _Nay!_ NAY!"
"----if I take you there for a game of Bridge--shall we go this veryevening?"
"If you wish," he answered.
She laughed. "I don't wish--and we are growing very silly. Come, tellabout your Annapolis trip. You stayed a great while."
"Something more than three weeks!"
"It's a queer old town, Annapolis--they call it the 'Finished City!'It's got plenty of landmarks, and relics, but nothing more. If it werenot for the State Capitol and Naval Academy, it would be only a lot ofruins, lost in the sand. In midsummer, it's absolutely dead. No one onthe streets, no one in the shops, no one any place.--Deserted--untilthere's a fire. Then you should see them come out!"
"That is
sufficiently expressed!" laughed Croyden. "But, with theautumn and the Academy in session, the town seemed very much alive. Wesampled 'Cheney's Best,' Wegard's Cakes, and saw the Custard-and-CreamChapel."
"You've been to Annapolis, sure!" she replied. "There's only one thingmore--did you see Paul Jones?"
He shook his head. "We missed him."
"Which isn't surprising. You can't find him without the aid of adetective or a guide."
"Then, who ever finds him?"
"No one!--and there is the shame. We accepted the vast labors and themoney of our Ambassador to France in locating the remains of America'sfirst Naval Hero; we sent an Embassy and a warship to bring them back;we received them with honor, orated over them, fired guns over them.And then, when the spectators had departed--assuming they were to bedeposited in the crypt of the Chapel--we calmly chucked them away on acouple of trestles, under a stairway in Bancroft Hall, as we would anold broom or a tin can. That's _our_ way of honoring the only NavalCommander we had in the Revolution. It would have been better, muchbetter, had we left him to rest in the quiet seclusion of his grave inFrance--lost, save in memory, with the halo of the past and privacy ofdeath around him."
"And why didn't we finish the work?" said Croyden. "Why bring him here,with the attendant expense, and then stop, just short of completion?Why didn't we inter him in the Chapel (though, God save me from burialthere), or any place, rather than on trestles under a stairway in amidshipmen's dormitory?"
"Because the appropriation was exhausted, or because the Act wasn'tworded to include burial, or because the Superintendent didn't want thebother, or because it was a nuisance to have the remains around--orsome other absurd reason. At all events, he is there in the cellar, andhe is likely to stay there, till Bancroft Hall is swallowed up by theBay. The junket to France, the parade, the speeches, the spectacularpart are over, so, who cares for the entombment, and the respect duethe distinguished dead?"
"I don't mean to be disrespectful," he observed, "but it's hard luck tohave one's bones disturbed, after more than a hundred years oftranquillity, to be conveyed clear across the Atlantic, to be oratedover, and sermonized over, and, then, to be flung aside like old junkand forgot. However, we have troubles of our own--I know I have--morereal than Paul Jones! He may be glad he's dead, so he won't have any toworry over. In fact, it's a good thing to be dead--one is saved from aheap of worry."
She looked at him, without replying.
"What's the use?" he said. "A daily struggle to procure fuel sufficientto keep up the fire."
"What's the use of anything! Why not make an end of life, at once?" sheasked.
"Sometimes, I'm tempted," he admitted. "It's the leap in the dark, andno returning, that restrains, I reckon--and the fact that we must faceit alone. Otherwise----"
She laughed softly. "Otherwise death would have no terrors! You havebegged the question, or what amounts to it. But, to return toAnnapolis; what else did you see?"
"You have been there?"
"Many times."
"Then you know what I saw," he replied. "I had no wonderfuladventures. This isn't the day of the rapier and the mask."
She half closed her eyes and looked at him through the long lashes.
"What were you doing down on Greenberry Point?" she demanded.
"How did you know?" he asked, surprised.
"Oh! very naturally. I was in Annapolis--I saw your name on theregister--I inquired--and I had the tale of the camp. No one, however,seemed to think it queer!" laughing.
"Why should they? Camping out is entirely natural," Croyden answered.
"With the Chairman of the Senate Committee on Naval Affairs?"
"We were in his party!"
"A party which until five days ago he had not joined--at least, so theSuperintendent told me, when I dined at his house. He happened tomention your name, found I knew you--and we gossiped. Perhaps weshouldn't, but we did."
"What else did he tell you?"
"Nothing! he didn't seem even to wonder at your being there----"
"But _you_ did?"
"It's the small town in me, I suppose--to be curious about other peopleand their business; and it was most suspicious."
"What was most suspicious?" he asked.
"Your actions. First, you hire a boat and cross the Bay direct fromHampton to Annapolis. Second, you procure, through Senator Rickrose, apermit from the Secretary of the Navy to camp on Greenberry Point.Third, you actually do camp, there, for nearly, or quite three weeks.Query:--Why? Why go clear to the Western Shore, and choose acomparatively inaccessible and exposed location on United Statesproperty, if the idea were only a camp? Why not camp over on KentIsland, or on this coast? Anywhere, within a few miles of Hampton,there are scores of places better adapted than Greenberry Point."
"You should be a story teller!" he laughed. "Your imagination ismarvelous. With a series of premises, you can reach whatever conclusionyou wish--you're not bound by the probabilities."
"You're simply obscuring the point," she insisted. "In this instance,my premises are facts which are not controverted. You admit them to becorrect. So, why? Why?----" She held up her hand. "Don't answer! I'mnot asking for information. I don't want to be told. I'm simply'chaffing of you,' don't you know!"
"With just a lingering curiosity, however," he added.
"A casual curiosity, rather," she amended.
"Which, some time, I shall gratify. You've trailed me down--we _were_on Greenberry Point for a purpose, but nothing has come of it, yet--andit's likely a failure."
"My dear Mr. Croyden, I don't wish to know. It was a mistake to referto it. I should simply have forgot what I heard in Annapolis--I'llforget now, if you will permit."
"By no means, Miss Carrington. You can't forget, if you would--and Iwould not have you, if you could. Moreover, I inherited it along withClarendon, and, as you were my guide to the place, it's no more thanright that you should know. I think I shall confide in you--no use toprotest, it's got to come!" he added.
"You are determined?--Very well, then, come over to the couch in thecorner, where we can sit close and you can whisper."
He arose, with alacrity. She put out her hand and led him--and hesuffered himself to be led.
"Now!" when they were seated, "you may begin. Once upon a time----" andlaughed, softly. "I'll take this, if you've no immediate use for it,"she said, and released her hand from his.
"For the moment," he said. "I shall want it back, presently, however."
"Do you, by any chance, get all you want?" she inquired.
"Alas! no! Else I would have kept what I already had."
She put her hands behind her, and faced around.
"Begin, sir!" she said. "Begin! and try to be serious."
"Well,--once upon a time----" Then he stopped. "I'll go over to thehouse and get the letter--it will tell you much better than I can. Youwill wait here, _right here_, until I return?"
She looked at him, with a tantalizing smile.
"Won't it be enough, if I am here _when_ you return?" she asked.
When he came out on the piazza the rain had ceased, the clouds weregone, the temperature had fallen, and the stars were shining brightlyin a winter sky.
He strode quickly down the walk to the street and crossed it diagonallyto his own gates. As he passed under the light, which hung near theentrance, a man walked from the shadow of the Clarendon grounds andaccosted him.
"Mr. Croyden, I believe?" he said.
Croyden halted, abruptly, just out of distance.
"Croyden is my name?" he replied, interrogatingly.
"With your permission, I will accompany you to your house--to which Iassume you are bound--for a few moments' private conversation."
"Concerning what?" Croyden demanded.
"Concerning a matter of business."
"My business or yours?"
"Both!" said the man, with a smile.
Croyden eyed him suspiciously. He was about thirty years of age, talland slender, was
well dressed, in dark clothes, a light weighttop-coat, and a derby hat. His face was ordinary, however, and Croydenhad no recollection of ever having seen it--certainly not in Hampton.
"I'm not in the habit of discussing business with strangers, at night,nor of taking them to my house," he answered, brusquely. "If you haveanything to say to me, say it now, and be brief. I've no time towaste."
"Some one may hear us," the man objected.
"Let them--I've no objection."
"Pardon me, but I think, in this matter, you would have objection."
"You'll say it quickly, and here, or not at all," snapped Croyden.
The man shrugged his shoulders.
"It's scarcely a subject to be discussed on the street," he observed,"but, if I must, I must. Did you ever hear of Robert Parmenter? Oh! Isee that you have! Well, the business concerns a certain letter--need Ibe more explicit?"
"If you wish to make your business intelligible."
The fellow shrugged his shoulders again.
"As you wish," he said, "though it only consumes time, and I was underthe impression that you were in a hurry. However: To repeat--thebusiness concerns a letter, which has to do with a certain treasureburied long ago, on Greenberry Point, by the said Robert Parmenter. DoI make myself plain, now, sir?"
"Your language is entirely intelligible--though I cannot answer for thefacts recited."
The man smiled imperturbably, and went on:
"The letter in question having come into your possession recently, you,with two companions, spent three weeks encamped on Greenberry Point,ostensibly for your health, or the night air, or anything else thatwould deceive the Naval authorities. During which time, you dug up theentire Point, dragged the waters immediately adjoining--and thendeparted, very strangely choosing for it a time of storm and change ofweather. My language is intelligible, thus far?"
Croyden nodded--rather amused. Evidently, the thieves had managed tocommunicate with a confederate, and this was a hold-up. They assumed hehad been successful.
"Therefore, it is entirely reasonable to suppose that your search wasnot ineffectual. In plain words, you have recovered the treasure."
The man paused, waiting for an answer.
Croyden only smiled, and waited, too.
"Very good!--we will proceed," said the stranger. "The jewels werefound on Government land. It makes no difference whether recovered onthe Point or on the Bay--the law covering treasure trove, I aminformed, doesn't apply. The Government is entitled to the entire find,it being the owner in fee of the land."
"You talk like a lawyer!" said Croyden.
The stranger bowed. "I have devoted my spare moments to the study ofthe law----"
"And how to avoid it," Croyden interjected.
The other bowed again.
"And also how to prevent _others_ from avoiding it," he replied,suggestively. "Let us take up that phase, if it please you."
"And if it doesn't please?" asked Croyden, suppressing an inclinationto laugh.
"Then let us take it up, any way--unless you wish to forfeit your findto the Government."
"Proceed!" said Croyden. "We are arriving, now, at the pith of thematter. What do you offer?"
"We want an equal divide. We will take Parmenter's estimate andmultiply it by two, though jewels have appreciated more than that invaluation. Fifty thousand pounds is two hundred and fifty thousanddollars, which will total, according to the calculation, half a milliondollars,--one half of which amount you pay us as our share."
"Your share! Why don't you call it properly--blackmail?" Croydendemanded.
"As you wish!" the other replied, airily. "If you prefer blackmail toshare, it will not hinder the contract--seeing that it is quite asillegal on your part as on ours. Share merely sounds a little betterbut either obtains the same end. So, suit yourself. Call it what youwill--but _pay_."
"Pay--or what?"
"Pay--or lose everything!" was the answer. "If you are not familiarwith the law covering the subject under discussion, let me enlightenyou."
"Thunder! how you do roll it out!" laughed Croyden. "Get on! man, geton!"
"I was endeavoring to state the matter succinctly," the strangerreplied, refusing to be hurried or flustered. "The Common Law and thepractice of the Treasury Department provide, that all treasure found onGovernment land or within navigable waters, is Government property. Ifdeclared by the finder, immediately, he shall be paid such reward asthe Secretary may determine. If he does not declare, and is informedon, the informer gets the reward. You will observe that, under the law,you have forfeited the jewels--I fancy I do not need to draw furtherdeductions."
"No!--it's quite unnecessary," Croyden remarked. "Your fellow thieveswent into that phase (good word, I like it!) rather fully, down onGreenberry Point. Unluckily, they fell into the hands of the police,almost immediately, and we have not been able to continue theconversation."
"I have the honor to continue the conversation--and, in the interim,you have found the treasure. So, Parmenter's letter won't beessential--the facts, circumstances, your own and Mr. Macloud'stestimony, will be sufficient to prove the Government's case. Then, asyou are aware, it's pay or go to prison for larceny."
"There is one very material hypothesis, which you assume as a fact, butwhich is, unfortunately, not a fact," said Croyden. "We did not findthe treasure."
The man laughed, good-humoredly.
"Naturally!" he replied. "We don't ask you to acknowledge thefinding--just pay over the quarter of a million and we will forgeteverything."
"My good man, I'm speaking the truth!" Croyden answered. "Maybe it'sdifficult for you to recognize, but it's the truth, none the less. Ionly wish I _had_ the treasure--I think I'd be quite willing to shareit, even with a blackmailer!"
The man laughed, again.
"I trust it will give no offence if I say I don't believe you."
"You can believe what you damn please!" Croyden retorted.
And, without more ado, he turned his back and went up the path toClarendon.
In Her Own Right Page 12
