CHAPTER III. ONLY THREE YEARS.
When, at last, the owner of the store entered the office, his faceshowed extreme irritation. He did not vouchsafe any greeting to thesecretary, who regarded him with an accurate perception of his mood.With a diplomacy born of long experience, in her first speech Sarahafforded an agreeable diversion to her employer's line of thought.
"Mr. Hastings, of the Empire store, called you up, Mr. Gilder, and askedme to let him know when you returned. Shall I get him on the wire?"
The man's face lightened instantly, and there was even the beginning ofa smile on his lips as he seated himself at the great mahogany desk.
"Yes, yes!" he exclaimed, with evident enthusiasm. The smile grew inthe short interval before the connection was made. When, finally,he addressed his friend over the telephone, his tones were of thecheerfulest.
"Oh, good morning. Yes, certainly. Four will suit me admirably....Sunday? Yes, if you like. We can go out after church, and have luncheonat the country club." After listening a moment, he laughed in a pleasedfashion that had in it a suggestion of conscious superiority. "My dearfellow," he declared briskly, "you couldn't beat me in a thousand years.Why, I made the eighteen holes in ninety-two only last week." He laughedagain at the answer over the wire, then hung up the receiver and pushedthe telephone aside, as he turned his attention to the papers neatlyarranged on the desk ready to his hand.
The curiosity of the secretary could not be longer delayed.
"What did they do with the Turner girl?" she inquired in an elaboratelycasual manner.
Gilder did not look up from the heap of papers, but answered ratherharshly, while once again his expression grew forbidding.
"I don't know--I couldn't wait," he said. He made a petulant gesture ashe went on: "I don't see why Judge Lawlor bothered me about the matter.He is the one to impose sentence, not I. I am hours behind with my worknow."
For a few minutes he gave himself up to the routine of business,distributing the correspondence and other various papers for the actionof subordinates, and speaking his orders occasionally to the attentivesecretary with a quickness and precision that proclaimed the capableexecutive. The observer would have realized at once that here was aman obviously fitted to the control of large affairs. The ability thatmarches inevitably to success showed unmistakably in the face and form,and in the fashion of speech. Edward Gilder was a big man physically,plainly the possessor of that abundant vital energy which is a primerequisite for achievement in the ordering of modern business concerns.Force was, indeed, the dominant quality of the man. His tall figure wasproportionately broad, and he was heavily fleshed. In fact, the body wastoo ponderous. Perhaps, in that characteristic might be found a clueto the chief fault in his nature. For he was ponderous, spiritually andmentally, as well as materially. The fact was displayed suggestively inthe face, which was too heavy with its prominent jowls and aggressivechin and rather bulbous nose. But there was nothing flabby anywhere.The ample features showed no trace of weakness, only a rude, aboundingstrength. There was no lighter touch anywhere. Evidently a just manaccording to his own ideas, yet never one to temper justice with mercy.He appeared, and was, a very practical and most prosaic business man. Hewas not given to a humorous outlook on life. He took it and himself withthe utmost seriousness. He was almost entirely lacking in imagination,that faculty which is essential to sympathy.
"Take this," he directed presently, when he had disposed of the mattersbefore him. Forthwith, he dictated the following letter, and now hisvoice took on a more unctuous note, as of one who is appreciative of hisown excellent generosity.
"THE EDITOR,
"The New York Herald.
"DEAR SIR: Inclosed please find my check for a thousand dollars for yourfree-ice fund. It is going to be a very hard summer for the poor, andI hope by thus starting the contributions for your fine charity atthis early day that you will be able to accomplish even more good thanusually.
"Very truly yours."
He turned an inquiring glance toward Sarah.
"That's what I usually give, isn't it?"
The secretary nodded energetically.
"Yes," she agreed in her brisk manner, "that's what you have given everyyear for the last ten years."
The statement impressed Gilder pleasantly. His voice was more mellow ashe made comment. His heavy face was radiant, and he smiled complacently.
"Ten thousand dollars to this one charity alone!" he exclaimed. "Well,it is pleasant to be able to help those less fortunate than ourselves."He paused, evidently expectant of laudatory corroboration from thesecretary.
But Sarah, though she could be tactful enough on occasion, did notchoose to meet her employer's anticipations just now. For that matter,her intimate services permitted on her part some degree of familiaritywith the august head of the establishment. Besides, she did not stand inawe of Gilder, as did the others in his service. No man is a hero tohis valet, or to his secretary. Intimate association is hostile tohero-worship. So, now, Sarah spoke nonchalantly, to the indignation ofthe philanthropist:
"Oh, yes, sir. Specially when you make so much that you don't miss it."
Gilder's thick gray brows drew down in a frown of displeasure, while hiseyes opened slightly in sheer surprise over the secretary's unexpectedremark. He hesitated for only an instant before replying with an airof great dignity, in which was a distinct note of rebuke for the girl'spresumption.
"The profits from my store are large, I admit, Sarah. But I neithersmuggle my goods, take rebates from railroads, conspire against smallcompetitors, nor do any of the dishonest acts that disgrace otherlines of business. So long as I make my profits honestly, I am honestlyentitled to them, no matter how big they are."
The secretary, being quite content with the havoc she had wrought in heremployer's complacency over his charitableness, nodded, and contentedherself with a demure assent to his outburst.
"Yes, sir," she agreed, very meekly.
Gilder stared at her for a few seconds, somewhat indignantly. Then,he bethought himself of a subtle form of rebuke by emphasizing hisgenerosity.
"Have the cashier send my usual five hundred to the CharitiesOrganization Society," he ordered. With this new evidence of hisgenerous virtue, the frown passed from his brows. If, for a fleetingmoment, doubt had assailed him under the spur of the secretary's words,that doubt had now vanished under his habitual conviction as to hissterling worth to the world at large.
It was, therefore, with his accustomed blandness of manner that hepresently acknowledged the greeting of George Demarest, the chief of thelegal staff that looked after the firm's affairs. He was aware withoutbeing told that the lawyer had called to acquaint him with the issue inthe trial of Mary Turner.
"Well, Demarest?" he inquired, as the dapper attorney advanced into theroom at a rapid pace, and came to a halt facing the desk, after a livelynod in the direction of the secretary.
The lawyer's face sobered, and his tone as he answered was tinged withconstraint.
"Judge Lawlor gave her three years," he replied, gravely. It was plainfrom his manner that he did not altogether approve.
But Gilder was unaffected by the attorney's lack of satisfaction overthe result. On the contrary, he smiled exultantly. His oritund voicetook on a deeper note, as he turned toward the secretary.
"Good!" he exclaimed. "Take this, Sarah." And he continued, as the girlopened her notebook and poised the pencil: "Be sure to have Smithsonpost a copy of it conspicuously in all the girls' dressing-rooms, and inthe reading-room, and in the lunch-rooms, and in the assembly-room." Hecleared his throat ostentatiously and proceeded to the dictation of thenotice:
"Mary Turner, formerly employed in this store, was to-day sentenced toprison for three years, having been convicted for the theft of goodsvalued at over four hundred dollars. The management wishes again todraw attention on the part of its employees to the fact that honesty isalways the best policy.... Got that?"
"Yes, sir." The secretary's voice wa
s mechanical, without any trace offeeling. She was not minded to disturb her employer a second time thismorning by injudicious comment.
"Take it to Smithson," Gilder continued, "and tell him that I wish himto attend to its being posted according to my directions at once."
Again, the girl made her formal response in the affirmative, then leftthe room.
Gilder brought forth a box of cigars from a drawer of the desk, openedit and thrust it toward the waiting lawyer, who, however, shook hishead in refusal, and continued to move about the room rather restlessly.Demarest paid no attention to the other's invitation to a seat, but thecourtesy was perfunctory on Gilder's part, and he hardly perceivedthe perturbation of his caller, for he was occupied in selecting andlighting a cigar with the care of a connoisseur. Finally, he spokeagain, and now there was an infinite contentment in the rich voice.
"Three years--three years! That ought to be a warning to the rest of thegirls." He looked toward Demarest for acquiescence.
The lawyer's brows were knit as he faced the proprietor of the store.
"Funny thing, this case!" he ejaculated. "In some features, one of themost unusual I have seen since I have been practicing law."
The smug contentment abode still on Gilder's face as he puffed inleisurely ease on his cigar and uttered a trite condolence.
"Very sad!--quite so! Very sad case, I call it." Demarest went onspeaking, with a show of feeling: "Most unusual case, in my estimation.You see, the girl keeps on declaring her innocence. That, of course, iscommon enough in a way. But here, it's different. The point is, somehow,she makes her protestations more convincing than they usually do. Theyring true, as it seems to me."
Gilder smiled tolerantly.
"They didn't ring very true to the jury, it would seem," he retorted.And his voice was tart as he added: "Nor to the judge, since he deemedit his duty to give her three years."
"Some persons are not very sensitive to impressions in such cases, Iadmit," Demarest returned, coolly. If he meant any subtlety of allusionto his hearer, it failed wholly to pierce the armor of complacency.
"The stolen goods were found in her locker," Gilder declared in atone of finality. "Some of them, I have been given to understand, wereactually in the pocket of her coat."
"Well," the attorney said with a smile, "that sort of thing makesgood-enough circumstantial evidence, and without circumstantial evidencethere would be few convictions for crime. Yet, as a lawyer, I'm free toadmit that circumstantial evidence alone is never quite safe as proof ofguilt. Naturally, she says some one else must have put the stolen goodsthere. As a matter of exact reasoning, that is quite within the measureof possibility. That sort of thing has been done countless times."
Gilder sniffed indignantly.
"And for what reason?" he demanded. "It's too absurd to think about."
"In similar cases," the lawyer answered, "those actually guilty of thethefts have thus sought to throw suspicion on the innocent in orderto avoid it on themselves when the pursuit got too hot on their trail.Sometimes, too, such evidence has been manufactured merely to satisfy aspite against the one unjustly accused."
"It's too absurd to think about," Gilder repeated, impatiently. "Thejudge and the jury found no fault with the evidence."
Demarest realized that this advocacy in behalf of the girl was hardlyfitting on the part of the legal representative of the store she wassupposed to have robbed, so he abruptly changed his line of argument.
"She says that her record of five years in your employ ought to countsomething in her favor."
Gilder, however, was not disposed to be sympathetic as to a matter soflagrantly opposed to his interests.
"A court of justice has decreed her guilty," he asserted once again,in his ponderous manner. His emphasis indicated that there the affairended.
Demarest smiled cynically as he strode to and fro.
"Nowadays," he shot out, "we don't call them courts of justice: we callthem courts of law."
Gilder yielded only a rather dubious smile over the quip. This much hefelt that he could afford, since those same courts served his personalpurposes well in deed.
"Anyway," he declared, becoming genial again, "it's out of our hands.There's nothing we can do, now."
"Why, as to that," the lawyer replied, with a hint of hesitation, "I amnot so sure. You see, the fact of the matter is that, though I helped toprosecute the case, I am not a little bit proud of the verdict."
Gilder raised his eyebrows in unfeigned astonishment. Even yet, he wasquite without appreciation of the attorney's feeling in reference to theconduct of the case.
"Why?" he questioned, sharply.
"Because," the lawyer said, again halting directly before the desk, "inspite of all the evidence against her, I am not sure that Mary Turner isguilty--far from it, in fact!"
Gilder uttered an ejaculation of contempt, but Demarest went onresolutely.
"Anyhow," he explained, "the girl wants to see you, and I wish to urgeyou to grant her an interview."
Gilder flared at this suggestion, and scowled wrathfully on the lawyer,who, perhaps with professional prudence, had turned away in his rapidpacing of the room.
"What's the use?" Gilder stormed. A latent hardness revealed itself atthe prospect of such a visitation. And along with this hardness cameanother singular revelation of the nature of the man. For there wasconsternation in his voice, as he continued in vehement expostulationagainst the idea. If there was harshness in his attitude there was,too, a fugitive suggestion of tenderness alarmed over the prospect ofundergoing such an interview with a woman.
"I can't have her crying all over the office and begging for mercy," heprotested, truculently. But a note of fear lay under the petulance.
Demarest's answer was given with assurance,
"You are mistaken about that. The girl doesn't beg for mercy. In fact,that's the whole point of the matter. She demands justice--strange asthat may seem, in a court of law!--and nothing else. The truth is, she'sa very unusual girl, a long way beyond the ordinary sales-girl, both inbrains and in education."
"The less reason, then, for her being a thief," Gilder grumbled in hisheaviest voice.
"And perhaps the less reason for believing her to be a thief," thelawyer retorted, suavely. He paused for a moment, then went on. Therewas a tone of sincere determination in his voice. "Just before the judgeimposed sentence, he asked her if she had anything to say. You know,it's just a usual form--a thing that rarely means much of anything.But this case was different, let me tell you. She surprised us all byanswering at once that she had. It's really a pity, Gilder, that youdidn't wait. Why, that poor girl made a--damn--fine speech!"
The lawyer's forensic aspirations showed in his honest appreciation ofthe effectiveness of such oratory from the heart as he had heard in thecourtroom that day.
"Pooh! pooh!" came the querulous objection. "She seems to havehypnotized you." Then, as a new thought came to the magnate, he spokewith a trace of anxiety. There were always the reporters, looking forspace to fill with foolish vaporings.
"Did she say anything against me, or the store?"
"Not a word," the lawyer replied, gravely. His smile of appreciation wasdiscreetly secret. "She merely told us how her father died when she wassixteen years old. She was compelled after that to earn her own living.Then she told how she had worked for you for five years steadily,without there ever being a single thing against her. She said, too, thatshe had never seen the things found in her locker. And she said morethan that! She asked the judge if he himself understood what it meansfor a girl to be sentenced to prison for something she hadn't done.Somehow, Gilder, the way she talked had its effect on everybody in thecourtroom. I know! It's my business to understand things like that. Andwhat she said rang true. What she said, and the way she said it,take brains and courage. The ordinary crook has neither. So, I had asuspicion that she might be speaking the truth. You see, Gilder, it allrang true! And it's my business to know how things ring in thatway." Ther
e was a little pause, while the lawyer moved back and forthnervously. Then, he added: "I believe Lawlor would have suspendedsentence if it hadn't been for your talk with him."
There were not wanting signs that Gilder was impressed. But the gentlerfibers of the man were atrophied by the habits of a lifetime. What hearthe had once possessed had been buried in the grave of his young wife, tobe resurrected only for his son. In most things, he was consistently ahard man. Since he had no imagination, he could have no real sympathy.
He whirled about in his swivel chair, and blew a cloud of smoke from hismouth. When he spoke, his voice was deeply resonant.
"I simply did my duty," he said. "You are aware that I did not seekany consultation with Judge Lawlor. He sent for me, and asked me what Ithought about the case--whether I thought it would be right to let thegirl go on a suspended sentence. I told him frankly that I believed thatan example should be made of her, for the sake of others who might betempted to steal. Property has some rights, Demarest, although it seemsto be getting nowadays so that anybody is likely to deny it." Then thefretful, half-alarmed note sounded in his voice again, as he continued:"I can't understand why the girl wants to see me."
The lawyer smiled dryly, since he had his back turned at the moment.
"Why," he vouchsafed, "she just said that, if you would see her for tenminutes, she would tell you how to stop the thefts in this store."
Gilder displayed signs of triumph. He brought his chair to a level andpounded the desk with a weighty fist.
"There!" he cried. "I knew it. The girl wants to confess. Well, it'sthe first sign of decent feeling she's shown. I suppose it ought to beencouraged. Probably there have been others mixed up in this."
Demarest attempted no denial.
"Perhaps," he admitted, though he spoke altogether without conviction."But," he continued insinuatingly, "at least it can do no harm if yousee her. I thought you would be willing, so I spoke to the DistrictAttorney, and he has given orders to bring her here for a few minutes onthe way to the Grand Central Station. They're taking her up to Burnsing,you know. I wish, Gilder, you would have a little talk with her. No harmin that!" With the saying, the lawyer abruptly went out of the office,leaving the owner of the store fuming.
Within the Law: From the Play of Bayard Veiller Page 3
