by Leroy Scott
CHAPTER IV
DOCTOR WEST'S LAWYER
Katherine's refusal of Harrison Blake's unforeseen proposal, duringthe summer she had graduated from Vassar, had, until the present hour,been the most painful experience of her life.
Ever since that far-away autumn of her fourteenth year when Blake hadled an at-first forlorn crusade against "Blind Charlie" Peck and sweptthat apparently unconquerable autocrat and his corrupt machine frompower, she had admired Blake as the ideal public man. He had seemed sofine, so big already, and loomed so large in promise--it was the fallfollowing his proposal that he was elected lieutenant-governor--thatit had been a humiliation to her that she, so insignificant, sounworthy, could not give him that intractable passion, love. Butthough he had gone very pale at her stammered answer, he had borne hisdisappointment like a gallant gentleman; and in the years since thenhe had acquitted himself to perfection in that most difficult ofroles, the lover who must be content to be mere friend.
Katherine still retained her girlish admiration of Mr. Blake. Despitehis having been so conspicuous at the forefront of public affairs, noscandal had ever soiled his name. His rectitude, so said people whosememories ran back a generation, was due mainly to fine qualitiesinherited from his mother, for his father had been a good-natured,hearty, popular politician with no discoverable bias towardover-scrupulosity. In fact, twenty years ago there had been a greatto-do touching the voting, through a plan of the elder Blake'sdevising, of a gang of negroes half a dozen times down in ariver-front ward. But his party had rushed loyally to his rescue, andhad vindicated him by sending him to Congress; and his sudden death onthe day after taking his seat had at the time abashed all accusation,and had suffused his memory with a romantic afterglow of sentiment.
Blake lived alone with his mother in a house adjoining the Wests',and a few moments after Katherine had left her father she turned intothe Blakes' yard. The house stood far back in a spacious lawn, shadywith broad maples and aspiring pines, and set here and there withshrubs and flower-beds and a fountain whose misty spray hung a goldenaureole upon the sunlight. It was quite worthy of Westville's mostdistinguished citizen--a big, roomy house of brick, its sterner linesall softened with cool ivy, and with a wide piazza crossing its entirefront and embracing its two sides.
The hour was that at which Westville arose from its accustomed mid-daydinner--which was the reason Katherine was calling at Blake's homeinstead of going downtown to his office. She was informed that he wasin. Telling the maid she would await him in his library, where sheknew he received all clients who called on business at his home, sheascended the well-remembered stairway and entered a large, light roomwith walls booked to the ceiling.
Despite her declaration to her father that that old love episodehad been long forgotten by Mr. Blake, at this moment it was notforgotten by her. She could not subdue a fluttering agitation overthe circumstance that she was about to appeal for succour to a manshe had once refused.
She had but a moment to wait. Blake's tall, straight figure enteredand strode rapidly across the room, his right hand outstretched.
"What--you, Katherine! I'm so glad to see you!"
She had risen. "And I to see you, Mr. Blake." For all he had oncevowed himself her lover, she had never overcome her girlhood awe ofhim sufficiently to use the more familiar "Harrison."
"I knew you were coming home, but I had not expected to see you sosoon. Please sit down again."
She resumed her soft leather-covered chair, and he took theswivel chair at his great flat-topped library desk. His manner wasmost cordial, but lurking beneath it Katherine sensed a certainconstraint--due perhaps, to their old relationship--perhaps due tomeeting a friend involved in a family disgrace.
Blake was close upon forty, with a dark, strong, handsome face,penetrating but pleasant eyes, and black hair slightly marked withgray. He was well dressed but not too well dressed, as became a publicman whose following was largely of the country. His person gave animmediate impression of a polished but not over-polished gentleman--ofa man who in acquiring a large grace of manner, has lost nothing ofvirility and bigness and purpose.
"It seems quite natural," Katherine began, smiling, and trying tospeak lightly, "that each time I come home it is to congratulate youupon some new honour."
"New honour?" queried he.
"Oh, your name reaches even to New York! We hear that you are spokenof to succeed Senator Grayson when he retires next year."
"Oh, that!" He smiled--still with some constraint. "I won't try tomake you believe that I'm indifferent about the matter. But I don'tneed to tell you that there's many a slip betwixt being 'spoken of'and actually being chosen."
There was an instant of awkward silence. Then Katherine went straightto the business of her visit.
"Of course you know about father."
He nodded. "And I do not need to say, Katherine, how very, very sorryI am."
"I was certain of your sympathy. Things look black on the surface forhim, but I want you to know that he is innocent."
"I am relieved to be assured of that," he said, hesitatingly. "For,frankly, as you say, things do look black."
She leaned forward and spoke rapidly, her hands tightly clasped.
"I have come to see you, Mr. Blake, because you have always been ourfriend--my friend, and a kinder friend than a young girl had any rightto expect--because I know you have the ability to bring out the truthno matter how dark the circumstantial evidence may seem. I have come,Mr. Blake, to ask you, to beg you, to be my father's lawyer."
He stared at her, and his face grew pale.
"To be your father's lawyer?" he repeated.
"Yes, yes--to be my father's lawyer."
He turned in his chair and looked out to where the fountain wasflinging its iridescent drapery to the wind. She gazed at his strong,clean-cut profile in breathless expectation.
"I again assure you he is innocent," she urged pleadingly. "I know youcan clear him."
"You have evidence to prove his innocence?" asked Blake.
"That you can easily uncover."
He slowly swung about. Though with all his powerful will he strove tocontrol himself, he was profoundly agitated, and he spoke with a verygreat effort.
"You have put me in a most embarrassing situation, Katherine."
She caught her breath.
"You mean?"
"I mean that I should like to help you, but--but----"
"Yes? Yes?"
"But I cannot."
"Cannot! You mean--you refuse his case?"
"It pains me, but I must."
She grew as white as death.
"Oh!" she breathed. "Oh!" She gazed at him, lips wide, in utterdismay.
Suddenly she seized his arm. "But you have not yet thought itover--you have not considered," she cried rapidly. "I cannot takeno for your answer. I beg you, I implore you, to take the case."
He seemed to be struggling between two desires. A slender, well-knithand stretched out and clutched a ruler; his brow was moist; but hekept silent.
"Mr. Blake, I beg you, I implore you, to reconsider," she feverishlypursued. "Do you not see what it will mean to my father? If you takethe case, he is as good as cleared!"
His voice came forth low and husky. "It is because it is beyond mypower to clear him that I refuse."
"Beyond your power?"
"Listen, Katherine," he answered. "I am glad you believe your fatherinnocent. The faith you have is the faith a daughter ought to have. Ido not want to hurt you, but I must tell you the truth--I do not shareyour faith."
"You refuse, then, because you think him guilty?"
He inclined his head. "The evidence is conclusive. It is beyond mypower, beyond the power of any lawyer, to clear him."
This sudden failure of the aid she had so confidently counted asalready hers, was a blow that for the moment completely stunned her.She sank back in her chair and her head dropped down into her hands.
Blake wiped his face with his handkerchief
. After a moment, he went onin an agitated, persuasive voice:
"I do not want you to think, because I refuse, that I am any lessyour friend. If I took the case, and did my best, your father wouldbe convicted just the same. I am going to open my heart to you,Katherine. I should like very much to be chosen for that senatorship.Naturally, I do not wish to do any useless thing that will impairmy chances. Now for me, an aspirant for public favour, to championagainst the aroused public the case of a man who has--forgive me theword--who has betrayed that public, and in the end to lose that case,as I most certainly should--it would be nothing less than politicalsuicide. Your father would gain nothing. I would lose--perhapseverything. Don't you see?"
"I follow your reasons," she said brokenly into her hands, "I do notblame you--I accept your answer--but I still believe my fatherinnocent."
"And for that faith, as I told you, I admire and honour you."
She slowly rose. He likewise stood up.
"What are you going to do?" he asked.
"I do not know," she answered dully. "I was so confident of your aid,that I had thought of no alternative."
"Your father has tried other lawyers?"
"Yes. They have all refused. You can guess their reason."
He was silent for an instant.
"Why not take the case yourself?"
"I take the case!" cried Katherine, amazed.
"Yes. You are a lawyer."
"But I have never handled a case in court! I am not even admitted tothe bar of the state. And, besides, a woman lawyer in Westville----No, it's quite out of the question."
"I was only suggesting it, you know," he said apologetically.
"Oh, I realized you did not mean it seriously."
Her face grew ashen as her failure came to her afresh. She gazed athim with a final desperation.
"Then your answer--it is final?"
"I am sorry, but it is final," said he.
Her head dropped.
"Thank you," she said dully. "Good-by." And she started away.
"Wait, Katherine."
She paused, and he came to her side. His features were gray-hued andwere twitching strangely; for an instant she had the wild impressionthat his old love for her still lived.
"I am sorry that--that the first time you asked aid of me--I shouldfail you. But but----"
"I understand."
"One word more." But he let several moments pass before he spoke it,and he wet his lips continually. "Remember, I am still your friend.Though I cannot take the case, I shall be glad, in a private way, toadvise you upon any matters you may care to lay before me."
"You are very good."
"Then you accept?"
"How can I refuse? Thank you."
He accompanied her down the stairway and to the door. Heavy-hearted,she returned home. This was sad news to bring her father, whom buthalf an hour before she had so confidently cheered; and she knew notin what fresh direction to turn for aid.
She went straight up to her father's room. With him she found astranger, who had a vague, far-distant familiarity.
The two men rose.
"This is my daughter," said Doctor West.
The stranger bowed slightly.
"I have heard of Miss West," he said, and in his manner Katherine'squick instinct read strong preconceived disapprobation.
"And, Katherine," continued her father, "this is Mr. Bruce."
She stopped short.
"Mr. Bruce of the _Express_?"
"Of the _Express_," Bruce calmly repeated.
Her dejected figure grew suddenly tense, and her cheeks glowed withhot colour. She moved up before the editor and gazed with flashingeyes into his square-jawed face.
"So you are the man who wrote those brutal things about father?"
He bristled at her hostile tone and manner, and there was a quicksnapping behind the heavy glasses.
"I am the man who wrote those true things about your father," he saidwith cold emphasis.
"And after that you dare come into this house!"
"Pardon me, Miss West, but a newspaper man dares go wherever hisbusiness takes him."
She was trembling all over.
"Then let me inform you that you have no business here. Neither myfather nor myself has anything whatever to say to yellow journalists!"
"Katherine! Katherine!" interjected her father.
Bruce bowed, his face a dull red.
"I shall leave, Miss West, just as soon as Doctor West answers my lastquestion. I called to see if he wished to make any statement, and Iwas asking him about his lawyer. He told me he had as yet securednone, but that you were applying to Mr. Blake."
Doctor West stepped toward her eagerly.
"Yes, Katherine, what did he say? Will he take the case?"
She turned from Bruce, and as she looked into the white, worn face ofher father, the fire of her anger went out.
"He said--he said----"
"Yes--yes?"
She put her arms about him.
"Don't you mind, father dear, what he said."
Doctor West grew yet more pale.
"Then--he said--the same as the others?"
She held him tight.
"Dear daddy!"
"Then--he refused?"
"Yes--but don't you mind it," she tried to say bravely.
Without a sound, the old man's head dropped upon his chest. He held toKatherine a moment; then he moved waveringly to an old haircloth sofa,sank down upon it and bowed his face into his hands.
Bruce broke the silence.
"I am to understand, then, that your father has no lawyer?"
Katherine wheeled from the bowed figure, and her anger leapedinstantly to a white heat.
"And why has he no lawyer?" she cried. "Because of the inhuman thingsyou wrote about him!"
"You forget, Miss West, that I am running a newspaper, and it is mybusiness to print the news."
"The news, yes; but not a malignant, ferocious distortion of the news!Look at my father there. Does it not fill your soul with shame tothink of the black injustice you have done him?"
"Mere sentiment! Understand, I do not let conventional sentiment standbetween me and my duty."
"Your duty!" There was a world of scorn in her voice. "And, pray, whatis your duty?"
"Part of it is to establish, and maintain, decent standards of publicservice in this town."
"Don't hide behind that hypocritical pretence! I've heard about you. Iknow the sort of man you are. You saw a safe chance for a yellow storyfor your yellow newspaper, a safe chance to gain prominence by yelpingat the head of the pack. If he had been a rich man, if he had had astrong political party behind him, would you have dared assail him asyou have? Never! Oh, it was brutal--infamous--cowardly!"
There was an angry fire behind the editor's thick glasses, and hissquare chin thrust itself out. He took a step nearer.
"Listen to me!" he commanded in a slow, defiant voice. "Your opinionis to me a matter of complete indifference. I tell you that a man whobetrays his city is a traitor, and that I would treat an old traitorexactly as I would treat a young traitor, I tell you that I take itas a sign of an awakening public conscience when reputable lawyersrefuse to defend a man who has done what your father has done. And,finally, I predict that, try as you may, you will not be able to finda decent lawyer who will dare to take his case. And I glory in it, andconsider it the result of my work!" He bowed to her. "And now, MissWest, I wish you good afternoon."
She stood quivering, gasping, while he crossed to the door. As hishand fell upon the knob she sprang forward.
"Wait!" she cried. "Wait! He has a lawyer!"
He paused.
"Indeed! And whom?"
"One who is going to make you take back every cowardly word you haveprinted!"
"Who is it, Katherine?" It was her father who spoke.
She turned. Doctor West had raised his head, and in his eyes was aneager, hopeful light. She bent over him and slipped an arm about hisshoul
ders.
"Father dear," she quavered, "since we can get no one else, will youtake me?"
"Take you?" he exclaimed.
"Because," she quavered on, "whether you will or not, I'm going tostay in Westville and be your lawyer."
