The Best Man

by Harold MacGrath

  III

  CARRINGTON tumbled out of bed at six and threw out the old-fashionedgreen blinds. A warm, golden summer morning greeted his eyes, and thepeaceful calm of Sunday lay upon the land. A robin piped in anapple-tree, an oriole flashed across the flower-beds, and a bee buzzedjust outside the sill. A brave day! He stepped into his tub, bathed, anddressed in his riding-clothes, for there was to be a canter down to thesea and return before breakfast. From the window he could see the groomwalking the beautiful thoroughbreds up and down the driveway. There wereonly two this morning; evidently Norah was not going.

  The Cavenaugh girls had created almost a scandal and a revolution whenthey first appeared at Glenwood. People had read and talked about womenriding like men, they had even seen pictures of them, but to find themclose at hand was something of a shock. Yet, when they saw with whatease the Cavenaugh girls took the hedges, ditches and fences, how theirmounts never suffered from saddle-galls, and, above all, how the twoalways kept even pace with the best men riders, opinion veered; andseveral ladies changed their habits.

  Norah, who saw the droll side of things, once said that the acceptedriding habit for women reminded her of a kimono for a harp.

  Carrington stole gently down to the horses. He had great affection forthe sleek thoroughbreds. Their ears went forward when they saw him, andthey whinnied softly. He rubbed their velvet noses and in turn theynozzled him for sugar-loaves. Had it not been for the night and theattendant mysteries, his happiness would have been complete. Peoplewaste many precious moments in useless retrospection; so Carringtonresolutely forced the subject from his mind. One thing was certain, theCavenaughs knew who the burglar was; and there was something strange inthe idea of an empty safe in a millionaire's home. Pshaw! He took outthe expected sugar-loaves and extended them on both palms. The pairlipped his hand and crunched the sweets with evident relish.

  "How are they to-day, James?"

  "Fit for twenty miles, straight away or 'cross-lots, sir. Your mount isfeeling his oats this morning; he hasn't been out for a run sinceThursday, sir. I've put the curb on him in case he takes it into hishead to cut up shines. Here comes Miss Kate, sir."

  Carrington's pulse rose. Kate was approaching them. She was pale butserene. She smiled a good morning, which took in the gentleman and thegroom.

  "I hope I haven't kept you waiting."

  "Not a moment; I only just got down myself," said Carrington.

  She mounted without assistance and adjusted her skirts. The filly beganto waltz, impatient to be off.

  "To the beach?" Carrington asked, swinging into his saddle.

  She nodded, and they started off toward the highway at a smart trot.Once there, the animals broke into an easy canter, which they maintainedfor a mile or more. Then Kate drew down to a walk.

  "What a day!" said he, waving his hand toward the sea-line.

  There was color a-plenty on her cheeks now, and her eyes shone likeprecious stones. There is no exhilaration quite like it. She flicked theelders with her crop, and once or twice reached up for a ripening apple.In the air there was the strange sea-smell, mingled with the warm scentof clover.

  "I'll race you to the beach!" she cried suddenly.

  "Done! I'll give you to the sixth tree." He laughed. There was reallynothing at all in the world but this beautiful girl, the horses, and thewhite road that wound in and out to the sea.

  She trotted her mount to the sixth tree, turned, and then gave thesignal. Away they went, the horses every bit as eager as their riders.With their ears laid back, their nostrils wide, their feet drumming,they thundered down the road. Carrington gained, but slowly, and he hadto hold his right arm as a shield for his eyes, as the filly's heelsthrew back a steady rain of sand and gravel. Faster and faster; amilk-wagon veered out just in time; foolish chickens scampered to thewrong side of the road, and the stray pigs in the orchards squealed andbolted inland. It was all very fine. And when they struck deep tawnysand the animals were neck and neck. It was now no easy task to bringthem to a stop. Carrington's hunter had made up his mind to win, and thelithe filly was equally determined. As an expedient, they finally guidedthe animals toward the hull of an ancient wreck; nothing else would havestopped them.

  "How I love it!" said Kate breathlessly, as she slid from the saddle."Beauty, you beat him, didn't you!" patting the dripping neck of herfavorite.

  They tethered the horses presently, and sat down in the shade of thehull.

  "Nothing like it, is there, girl?"

  "I hate automobiles," she answered irrelevantly.

  The old, old sea quarreled murmurously at their feet, and the whitegulls sailed hither and thither, sometimes breasting the rollers just asthey were about to topple over into running creamy foam. The man and thegirl seemed perfectly content to remain voiceless. There was no soundbut the song of the sea: the girl dreamed, and the man wondered what herdream was. Presently he glanced at his watch. He stood up, brushing thesand from his clothes.

  "Half an hour between us and breakfast, Kate. All aboard!"

  The night before might have been only an idle dream.

  So they took the road back. Only the sea and the gulls saw the tenderkiss.

  * * * * *

  The pariah sauntered in at two o'clock that afternoon, just as thefamily were sitting down to luncheon. He was a revelation. There wasnothing shabby about him now. He wore a new suit, spats, a new strawhat, and twirled a light bamboo. There was something jaunty andconfident in his air, a bubbling in his eyes; altogether, he was in finefettle about something. He cast aside his hat and cane with a flourish.

  "Aha! just in time," he said. "Another chair, William."

  The butler sent a dubious glance at his master; there was the usual curtnod and the frown. So grandpa sat down beside Norah, whose usualeffervescence had strangely subsided; he pinched her cheek, anddeliberated between the cold ham and chicken.

  "A fine day! A beautiful day! A day of days!" he cried, surrendering tothe appetitious lure of both meats.

  Nobody replied to this outburst of exuberance; nobody had the power to.A strange calm settled over every one. This was altogether a new kind ofgrandpa. There was nothing timid or hesitant here, nothing meek andhumble; neither was there that insufferable self-assurance and arroganceof a disagreeable man. Grandpa's attitude was simply that of an equal,of a man of the world, of one who is confident of the power he holds inreserve; that was all. But for all that, he was a sensation of somemagnitude. Carrington was seized with a wild desire to laugh. The truthcame to him like an illumination; but he wisely held his peace.

  "There is something in the air to-day that renews youth in old age; eh,my son?" with a sly wink at Cavenaugh.

  Cavenaugh's expression of wonder began to freeze and remained frozen tothe end of the meal. So all the honors of conversation fell to grandpa,who seemed to relish this new privilege.

  "Father," said Cavenaugh, holding back his accumulated wrath, "I want tosee you in my study."

  "Immediately, my son. I was just about to make that same request."Grandpa looked at Kate, then at Carrington. "I suppose you young personswill invite poor old grandpa to the wedding?"

  "Father!" This was altogether too much for patrician blood. Cavenaugh'sface reddened and his fists closed ominously. "You will do me the honor,father, not to meddle with my private affairs. Kate is my daughter, andshe shall marry the man it pleases me to accept."

  Carrington felt this cut dart over grandpa's shoulder. He stirreduneasily.

  "Oh, if that's the way you look at it!" with a comical deprecatoryshrug. Grandpa touched Carrington on the arm. "Young man, do you lovethis girl? No false modesty, now; the truth, and nothing but the truth.Do you love her?"

  "With all my heart!" Carrington felt the impulse occult. Somethingwhispered that his whole future depended upon his answer.

  "And you, Kate?"

  "I love him, grandpa," bravely.

  "That's all
I want to know," said grandpa.

  Cavenaugh released one of his fists; it fell upon the table and rattledthings generally.

  "Am I in my own house?" he bawled.

  "That depends," answered grandpa suavely. "You've got to behaveyourself. Now, then, let us repair to the secret chamber of finance. Itis the day of settlement," grimly.

  Mrs. Cavenaugh was gently weeping. The dread moment had come, come whenshe had been lulled into the belief that it would never come. Kateunderstood, and longed to go to her and comfort her; and she trembledfor her father, who knew nothing of the pit that lay at his feet.Carrington dallied with his fork; he wished he was anywhere in the worldbut at the Cavenaugh table. The desire to laugh recurred to him, but herealized that the inclination was only hysterical.

  Cavenaugh was already heading for the study. He was in a fine rage.Grandpa was close on his heels. At the threshold he turned once more toCarrington.

  "You know your _Tempest_, young man, I'm sure," he said. "Well, this isthe revolt of Caliban--Caliban uplifted, as it were."

  The door closed behind them, and father and son faced each other.

  "I'll trouble you for those papers you took from the safe last night,"said the son heavily.

  "Ah, indeed!" said grandpa.

  "At once; I have reached the limit of my patience."

  "So have I," returned grandpa. "Perhaps you know what these papers areabout?"

  "I know nothing whatever, save that they belong to Mr. Carrington. Handthem over."

  Grandpa helped himself to a cigar and sat down. He puffed two or threetimes, eyed the lighted end, and sighed with satisfaction.

  "If you but knew what they were about, these papers, you would pay acool million for their possession. My word, it is a droll situation;reads like the fourth act in a play. If you have a duke picked out forKate, forget him."

  "She will never marry Carrington!" Cavenaugh's voice rose in spite ofhis effort to control it.

  "My son, they will hear you," the pariah warned. He blew a cloud ofsmoke into the air and sniffed it. "You never offered me this particularbrand," reproachfully.

  "Enjoy it," snapped the other, "for it is the last you will ever smokein any house of mine."

  "You don't tell me!"

  "Those papers, instantly!"

  "'Be it known by these presents, et cetera, et cetera,'" said the oldman. He rose suddenly, the banter leaving his lips and eyes, and his jawsetting hard. "You had better get your check-book handy, my son, forwhen I'm through with you, you'll be only too glad to fill out a blankfor fifty thousand. I consider myself quite moderate. This youngCarrington is a mighty shrewd fellow; and I'd rather have him as afriend than an enemy. He has made out his case so strongly that it willcost you a pretty penny to escape with a whole skin."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "The case of the people versus Cavenaugh et al. It concerns the cleverway in which you and your partners slid under the seven per cent.dividend due your investors; which caused a slump in the price of theshares, forcing thousands to sell their stock; which you bought back ata handsome profit. Moloch! The millions you have are not enough; youmust have more. There are about twelve of you in all, not one of youworth less than three millions. What a beautiful chance for blackmail!"

  Cavenaugh stepped back, and his legs, striking a chair, toppled him intoit. His father had become Medusa's head!

  "Aha! That jars you some," chuckled grandpa.

  It took Cavenaugh some time to recover his voice, and when he did it wasfaint and unnatural.

  "Is this true?" he gasped.

  "It is so true that I'll trouble you for the check now."

  "Come, father, this is no time for nonsense." Cavenaugh waved his handimpatiently. "Let me see the document."

  "Hardly. But the moment you place the check in my hands, I shall bepleased to do so. But there must be no reservation to have paymentstopped."

  "I will not give you a single penny!" The mere suggestion of giving upso large a sum without a struggle seemed preposterous. "Not a penny! Andfurthermore, I am through with you for good and all. Shift for yourselfhereafter. Fifty thousand! You make me laugh!"

  "I shall make you laugh, my son; but not on the humorous side." The oldman reached out his hand and struck the bell.

  "What do you want?" asked Cavenaugh, mystified.

  "I want the author of the document. I propose to take the familyskeleton out of the closet and dangle it up and down before the youngman's eyes. You will laugh, I dare say."

  Cavenaugh fell back in his chair again. The door opened and Williamlooked in.

  "You rang, sir?" to Cavenaugh _fils_.

  "No, William," said Cavenaugh _pere_ affably; "I rang. Call Mr.Carrington." The butler disappeared. "It is my turn, Henry, and I havewaited a long time, as you very well know. Ha! Sit down, Mr. Carrington,sit down."

  Carrington, who had entered, obeyed readily.

  "You left some papers in the dining-room safe last night," begangrandpa.

  "I was about to ask you to return them," replied Carrington, withassumed pleasantry.

  The two Cavenaughs looked at each other blankly. Finally grandpalaughed.

 

  "I told you he was clever!"

  "It is true, then," snarled the millionaire, "that you have beenmeddling with affairs that in no wise concern you. I warn you that yourcase in court will not have a leg to stand on."

  "I prefer not to discuss the merits of the case," said Carringtonquietly.

  "I have been your host, sir; you have eaten at my table." Cavenaugh, ashe spoke, was not without a certain dignity.

  "All of which, recognizing the present situation, I profoundly regret."

  "Good!" said grandpa. "Henry, if you had been the general they give youcredit for, you would have offered Mr. Carrington that seventeenthousand two or three years ago. There is nothing so menacing todishonesty as the free lance. Now, listen to me for a space. We'll cometo the documentary evidence all in good time. I spoke of Calibanuplifted," ironically. "For years I have been treated as a pariah, as abeast of burden, as a messenger boy, as a go-between to take tricks thatmight have soiled my son's delicate hands. Father and son, yes; but inname only. Blood is thicker than water only when riches and ambition arenot touched in the quick. This dutiful son of mine could easily haveelevated me along with himself; but he would not do so. He was afraidthat people might learn something of my past, which would greatly hinderhis advancement. He prospered, he grew rich and arrogant; he put hisheel on my neck, and I dared not revolt. You wouldn't believe it, wouldyou, Mr. Carrington, that I was graduated with honors from OxfordUniversity. I speak three tongues fluently, and have a smattering of adozen others; am a doctor of philosophy, an Egyptologist. But I wasindolent and loved good times, and so, you see, it came about that Ifell into evil ways. Formerly, I was a burglar by profession."

  He stopped, eying Carrington's stupefaction. The son gnawed his lipsimpotently.

  "I was a master, after a fashion," resumed the old man, satisfied withhis denouement. "I committed a dozen splendid burglaries. I never left atrail behind. The police sought for me, but did not know me either byname or by sight. This was the sword my son kept over my neck. Theslightest rebellion, and he threatened to expose me. Oh, I know the boywell enough; he would have done it in those days. Once extradited toEngland, thirty years ago, no one would have connected our names. Yet hewas afraid of me; he wasn't sure that at any time the old desire wouldspring up renewed. I robbed to gratify my craving for excitement ratherthan to fill my purse. I made an unhappy marriage; something Kate norNorah shall do while I live. Henry was clever. He made me an allowanceof two hundred a month. And how do you suppose he arranged the payment?On the first day of the month he placed the cash in a safe in the house,and changed the combination. If I got the money without being caught itwas mine; otherwise I went hungry. Ingenious idea, wasn't it? For I hadall the excitement, and none of the peril of a real burglary. Henryforgot,
yesterday, that it was the first of the month."

  The millionaire found it impossible to remain seated. He rose and pacedthe floor, his brows knit, his hands clenched. He was at bay. Carringtonfelt as if he were in the midst of some mad dream.

  "Sometimes I succeeded in opening the safe; and sometimes, when luckwent against me for two or three months, Norah tipped me thecombination. She dared not do it too often. So the months went on. Oncea month I was permitted to visit my grandchildren. My son grew richerand richer; for myself, I remained in the valley of humiliation. I hadno chance. I had never met any of my son's friends; he took good carethat I did not; so they were in total darkness as to my existence. Butthe ball and chain were knocked off last night. Your papers are, afterall, only an incident. Caliban revolts. Mr. Carrington, my son! Oh, I amproud of him. I believed the genius for robbery was mine. I am averitable tyro beside Henry. Half a dozen millions from the pockets ofthe poor at one fell swoop! Where's your Robin Hood and his ilk? But itisn't called robbery; it is called high finance."

  He applied a match to his dead cigar and thoughtfully eyed his son.

  "And there is a good joke on me, weaving in and out of all this. Iregularly invested half my allowance in buying shares in my son'scompany, to insure my old age. It jarred me when I read the truth lastnight. I hate to be outwitted. Henry, sit down; you make me nervous."

  "Well, what are you going to do?" asked the son. As he faced his fatherthere was something lion-like in his expression.

  "Sit down, my son, and I will tell you," answered the old man quietly.He knew that his son was a fighter, and that to win he would have tostrike quick and hard.

  Cavenaugh flung himself into his chair. At that moment he did not knowwhich he hated the most, his father or Carrington.

  "First, you will write out that check for fifty thousand."

  "Blackmail!"

  "Nothing of the sort. For twenty years you have kept your heel on myneck. I could do nothing; opportunities came and I dared not grasp them;my genuine ability was allowed to rust. It is simply compensation.Blackmail? I think not. I could easily force a million from you. But Iam and have been for years an honest man. And heaven knows how well Ihave paid for my early transgression," bitterly. "This hour is mine, andI propose to use it."

  "What guaranty have I of your good faith?" fiercely.

  "My word," calmly. "I have never yet broken it."

  Carrington gazed longingly toward the door. It was horriblyembarrassing. He began to realize that Kate's father would hate himbitterly indeed, and that his own happiness looked very remote.

  Cavenaugh turned to his desk, filled out the blank, and passed it to hisfather, who, with scarcely a glance at it, passed it back with anegative shake of the head.

  "The official certifying stamp lies on your desk; use it."

  There was no getting around this keen-eyed old man. He knew every pointin the game.

  "You will live to regret this," said Cavenaugh, his eyes sparkling withvenom.

  "I have many things to regret; principally that fate made me a father."The old man passed the check over to Carrington. "You're a lawyer; doesthat look legal to you?"

  Carrington signified that it did.

  "Now, then, Henry, you will write down on official paper yourresignation as president and director of the General Trust Company ofAmerica. You will give orders for the restitution of the millions thatwere fraudulently added to your capital. I am not the least interestedin what manner the restitutions are made, so long as they are made. I amnow representing the investors. As for your partners, it will be easyfor you to impress them with the necessity of the action."

  "And if I refuse?"

  "Nothing less than the attorney-general. I intend to make this businessas complete as possible."

  Cavenaugh turned again to his desk. He knew his father even as hisfather knew him. He wrote hurriedly, the pen sputtering angrily.

  "What else?" with a cold fury.

  Again the old man gave Carrington the paper.

  "It is perfectly intelligible," he said. He began to feel a bit sorryfor Cavenaugh junior.

  "Now, those papers," said Cavenaugh sharply.

  "I believe they belong to me," interposed Carrington.

  Grandpa smiled. "It all depends."

  "I could easily force you," suggestively.

  Grandpa smiled again. "Of that I haven't the least doubt. Of course,what I have is only a copy?"

  "It is the only copy in existence," replied Carrington anxiously. Andthen a flush of shame mantled his cheeks. Where was his legal cunning?

  "Ah!" The ejaculation came from Cavenaugh junior.

  "There is but one thing more," said grandpa urbanely. "I am determinedthat Kate shall be happy. She shall marry Mr. Carrington before the snowflies. It is an excellent policy to keep valuable secrets in thefamily."

  "Give your papers to the attorney-general. I'll see you all hangedbefore I'll give my consent!" Cavenaugh roared out these words. Hispatience had truly reached the limit of endurance.

  "Softly, softly!" murmured grandpa.

  "I mean it!" _con agitata_.

  "Ah, well; what will be, will be. Son, I came down here yesterday withaltogether a different piece of business in mind. The documents Idiscovered last night changed these plans. You own rich oil lands inTexas; or, rather, you did own them before you sold out to the company.The land you sold was not, and never had been, legally yours; you ownednot a single tuft of grass. Government land-grab, I believe they callit. It is not now a question of refunding money; it is a question ofavoiding prison. The supreme court at Washington can not be purchased.It cost me five hundred, which I could ill afford, to get a copy of theoriginal transfer. The real owner mistook me for you, son; that is how Ilearned. Your consent to this marriage; or, my word for it, I'll put youwhere you would have put me, had you dared. Quick! My patience is quiteas tense as yours."

  The collapse of Cavenaugh was total. He saw the futility of furtherstruggle. Ah! and he had believed all these transgressions securelyhidden and forgotten, that the fortress of his millions would protecthim from all attack. Too late he realized that he had gone too far withhis father. There was no mercy in the old man's eyes, and Cavenaugh knewin his heart that he deserved none.

  "Very sensible," said the retired burglar. He folded the check and putit in his wallet, while his son covered his face with his hands. "Murderwill out, even among the most pious. I know that what has passed betweenus will be forgotten by Mr. Carrington. For myself, I shall return toEngland. I have always had a horror of dying in this country. Likefather, like son; the parable reads truly. It was in the blood, Mr.Carrington; it was in the blood. But Henry here went about it in a moregenteel manner." He struck the bell. "William, send Miss Kate here."

  William bowed. He recognized the change; grandpa's voice was full ofconfident authority.

  Kate entered the study shortly after. She had been weeping; her eyeswere red. Seeing her father's bowed head, she sprang to his side like alioness.

  "What have they been doing to you, father?"

  "Nothing but what is just," softly answered her parent. The little dukesand princes faded away as a dream fades.

  "Grandpa ..." she began.

  "Child, it is all settled. The hatchet is buried in frozen ground. Yourfather consents to your marriage with Mr. Carrington. It has been aheated argument, but he has come around to my way of thinking. 'All'sright with the world,' as Browning says. Bless you, my children, blessyou!" with tender irony.

  "And now, my papers," said Carrington, smiling up at the girlreassuringly.

  "And you still wish to marry me?" asked the girl, her face burning andher eyes moist.

  "I'd marry you if your grandpa was Beelzebub himself!"

  "Here's your papers, young man," said grandpa. He passed the envelopeacross the table.

  "What's this?" cried Carrington.

  "It means, my boy," said grandpa, "that blood is thicker than water, andthat I really intended no harm t
o Henry. And then, besides, I like towin when all the odds are against me."

  Carrington gently turned the envelope upside down. Nothing but burntpaper fluttered upon the table.