by Leroy Scott
CHAPTER XX
A SPECTRE COMES TO TOWN
For many an hour Katherine's wrath continued high, and she repeated,with clinched hands, all her invectives against the bigotry of Bruce.He was a bully--a boor--a brute--a tyrant. He considered himself thesuperman. And in pitiable truth he was only a moral coward--for hisreal reason in opposing her had been that he was afraid to haveWestville say that his wife worked. And he had insulted her, for hisparting words to her had been a jeering statement that she had noability, only a certain charm of sex. How, oh, how, had she everimagined that they two might possibly share a happy life together?
But after a season her wrath began to subside, and she began to seethat after all Bruce was no very different man from the Bruce she hadloved the last few weeks. He had been thoroughly consistent withhimself. She had known that he was cocksure and domineering. She hadforeseen that the chances were at least equal that he would take theposition he had. She had foreseen and feared this very issue. Hisvirtues were just as big as on yesterday, when she and he had thoughtof marriage, and his faults were no greater. And she realized, afterthe first passion of their battle had spent its force, that she stillloved him.
In the long hours of the night a pang of emptiness, of vast,irretrievable loss, possessed her. She and Love had touched each otherfor a space--then had flung violently apart, and were speeding each intheir eternally separate direction. Life for her might be rich andfull of honour and achievement, but as she looked forward into thelong procession of years, she saw that life was going to have itsdreariness, its vacancies, its dull, unending aches. It was going tobe such a very, very different business from that life of work andlove and home and mutual aid she had daringly dreamed of during thetwo weeks she and Bruce had been lovers.
But she did not regret her decision. She did not falter. Herresentment of Bruce's attitude stiffened the backbone of her purpose.She was going straight ahead, bear the bitterness, and live the lifeshe had planned as best she could.
But there quickly came other matters to share her mind with a lostlove and a broken dream. First was the uproar created by Bruce'sdefiant announcement in the _Express_ of Blind Charlie's threatenedtreachery. That sensation reigned for a day or two, then was almostforgotten in a greater. This second sensation made its initialappearance quite unobtrusively; it had a bare dozen lines down in acorner of the same issue of the _Express_ that had contained Bruce'sdefiance and Doctor Sherman's departure. The substance of the item wasthat two cases of illness had been reported from the negro quarter inRiver Court, and that the doctors said the symptoms were similar tothose of typhoid fever.
Those two cases of fever in that old frame tenement up a narrow,stenchy alley were the quiet opening of a new act in the drama thatwas played that year in Westville. The next day a dozen cases werereported, and now the doctors unhesitatingly pronounced them typhoid.The number mounted rapidly. Soon there were a hundred. Soon there wasan epidemic. And the Spectre showed no deference to rank. It not onlystalked into the tenements of River Court and Railroad Alley--and laidits felling finger on starveling children and drink-shattered men--Itvisited the large and airy homes on Elm and Maple Streets and WabashAvenue, where those of wealth and place were congregated.
In Westville was the Reign of Terror. Haggard doctors were ever on thego, snatching a bite or a moment's sleep when chance allowed. Tillthen, modern history had been reckoned in Westville from the town'sinvasion by factories, or from that more distant time when lightninghad struck the Court House. But those milestones of time are to-dayforgotten. Local history is now dated, and will be for many a decade,from the "Days of Fever" and the related events which marked thatepoch.
In the early days of the epidemic Katherine heard one morning thatElsie Sherman had just been stricken. She had seen little of Elsieduring the last few weeks; the strain of their relation was too greatto permit the old pleasure in one another's company; but at this newsshe hastened to Elsie's bedside. Her arrival was a God-send to theworn and hurried Doctor Woods, who had just been called in. Shetelegraphed to Indianapolis for a nurse; she telegraphed to a sisterof Doctor Sherman to come; and she herself undertook the care of Elsieuntil the nurse should arrive.
"What do you think of her case, Doctor?" she asked anxiously whenDoctor Woods dropped in again later in the day.
He shook his head.
"Mrs. Sherman is very frail."
"Then you think----"
"I'm afraid it will be a hard fight. I think we'd better send for herhusband."
Despite her sympathy for Elsie, Katherine thrilled with thepossibility suggested by the doctor's words. Here was a situation thatshould bring Doctor Sherman out of his hiding, if anything could bringhim. Once home, and unnerved by the sight of his wife precariouslybalanced between life and death, she was certain that he would breakdown and confess whatever he might know.
She asked Elsie for her husband's whereabouts, but Elsie answered thatshe had had letters but that he had never given an address. Katherineat once determined to see Blake, and demand to know where DoctorSherman was; and after the nurse arrived on an afternoon train, sheset out for Blake's office.
But Blake was out, and his return was not expected for an hour. Tofill in the time, Katherine paid a visit to her father in the jail.She told him of Elsie's illness, and told at greater length than shehad yet had chance to do about the epidemic. In his turn he talked toher about the fever's causes; and when she left the jail and returnedto Blake's office an idea far greater than merely asking DoctorSherman's whereabouts was in her mind.
This time she was told that Blake was in, but could see no one.Undeterred by this statement, Katherine walked quickly past thestenographer and straight for his private door, which she quickly andquietly opened and closed.
Blake was sitting at his desk, his head bowed forward in one hand. Hewas so deep in thought, and she had entered so quietly, that he hadnot heard her. She crossed to his desk, stood opposite him, and for amoment gazed down upon his head.
"Mr. Blake," she remarked at length.
He started up.
"You here!" he ejaculated.
"Yes. I came to talk to you."
He did not speak at once, but stood staring a little wildly at her.She had not spoken to him since the day of her father's trial, norseen him save at a distance. She was now startled at the change thiscloser view revealed to her. His eyes were sunken and ringed withpurple, his face seemed worn and thin, and had taken on a tinge ofyellowish-green.
"I left orders that I could see no one," he said, trying to speaksharply.
"I know," she answered quietly. "But you'll see me."
For an instant he hesitated.
"Very well--sit down," he said, resuming his chair. "Now what is ityou wish?"
She seated herself and leaned across the desk toward him.
"I wish to talk to you about the fever," she said with her formercomposure, and looking him very steadily in the eyes. "I suppose youknow what caused it?"
"I am no doctor. I do not."
"Then let me tell you. My father has just told me that there must havebeen a case of typhoid during the summer somewhere back in thedrainage area of the water-system. That recent big storm carried thesummer's accumulation of germ-laden filth down into the streams. Andsince the city was unguarded by a filter, those germs were swept intothe water-mains, we drank them, and the epidemic----"
"That filter was useless--a complete failure!" Blake broke in ratherhuskily.
"You know, Mr. Blake, and I know," she returned, "that that filter hasbeen, and still is, in excellent condition. And you know, and I know,that if it had been in operation, purifying the water, there mightpossibly have been a few cases of typhoid, but there would never havebeen this epidemic. That's the God's truth, and you know it!"
He swallowed, but did not answer her.
"I suppose," she pursued in her steady tone, "you realize who isresponsible for all these scores of sick?"
"If what you say is true, then
your father is guilty, for buildingsuch a filter."
"You know better. You know that the guilty man is yourself."
His face grew more yellowish-green.
"It's not so! No one is more appalled by this disaster than I am!"
"I know you are appalled by the outcome. You did not plan to murdercitizens. You only planned to defraud the city. But this epidemic isthe direct consequence of your scheme. Every person who is now in asick bed, you put that person there. Every person who may later go tohis grave, you will have sent that person there."
Her steady voice grew more accusing. "What does your conscience say toyou? And what do you think the people will say to you, to the greatpublic-spirited Mr. Blake, when they learn that you, prompted by thedesire for money and power, have tried to rob the city and havestricken hundreds with sickness?"
His yellowish face contorted most horribly, but he did not answer.
"I see that your conscience has been asking you those same questions,"Katherine pursued. "It is something, at least, that your conscience isnot dead. Those are not pleasant questions to have asked one, arethey?"
Again his face twisted, but he seemed to gather hold of himself.
"You are as crazy as ever--that's all rot!" he said huskily, with adenying sweep of a clinched hand. "But what do you want?"
"Three things. First, that you have the filter put back in commission.Let's at least do what we can to prevent any more danger from thatsource."
"The filter is useless. Besides, I am no official, and have nothing todo with it."
"It is in perfect condition, and you have everything to do with it,"she returned steadily.
He swallowed. "I'll suggest it to the mayor."
"Very well; that is settled. To the next point. Have you heard thatMrs. Sherman is sick?"
"Yes."
"She wants her husband."
"Well?"
"My second demand is to know where you have hidden Doctor Sherman."
"Doctor Sherman? I have nothing to do with Doctor Sherman!"
"You also have everything to do with Doctor Sherman," she returnedsteadily. "He is one of the instruments of your plot. You feared thathe would break down and confess, and so you sent him out of the way.Where is he?"
Again his face worked spasmodically. "I tell you once more I havenothing whatever to do with Doctor Sherman! Now I hope that's all. Iam tired of this. I have other matters to consider. Good day."
"No, it is not all. For there is my third demand. And that is the mostimportant of the three. But perhaps I should not say demand. What Imake you is an offer."
"An offer?" he exclaimed.
She did not reply to him directly. She leaned a little farther acrosshis desk and looked at him with an even greater intentness.
"I do not need to ask you to pause and think upon all the evil youhave done the town," she said slowly. "For you have thought. You werethinking at the moment I came in. I can see that you are shaken withhorror at the unforeseen results of your scheme. I have come to you totake sides with your conscience; to join it in asking you, urging you,to draw back and set things as nearly right as you can. That is mydemand, my offer, my plea--call it what you will."
He had been gazing at her with wide fixed eyes. When he spoke, hisvoice was dry, mechanical.
"Set things right? How?"
"Come forward, confess, and straighten out the situation of your ownaccord. Westville is in a terrible condition. If you act at once, youcan at least do something to relieve it."
"By setting things right, as you call it, you of course include theclearing of your father?"
"The clearing of my father, of course. And let me say to you, Mr.Blake--and for this moment I am speaking as your friend--that it willbe better for you to clear this whole matter up voluntarily, at once,than to be exposed later, as you certainly will be. To clear thismatter at once may have the result of simplifying the fight againstthe epidemic--it may save many lives. That is what I am thinking offirst of all just now."
"You mean to say, then, that it is either confess or be exposed?"
"There is no use in my beating about the bush with you," she repliedin her same steady tone. "For I know that you know that I am afteryou."
He did not speak at once. He sat gazing fixedly at her, with twitchingface. She met his gaze without blinking, breathlessly awaiting hisreply.
Suddenly a tremor ran through him and his face set with desperatedecision.
"Yes, I know you are after me! I know you are having mefollowed--spied upon!" There was a biting, contemptuous edge to histone. "Even if I were guilty, do you think I would be afraid ofexposure from you? Oh, I know the man you have sleuthing about on mytrail. Elijah Stone! And I once thought you were a clever girl!"
"You refuse, then?" she said slowly.
"I do! And I defy you! If your accusations against me are true, go outand proclaim them to the city. I'm willing to stand for whateverhappens!"
She regarded his flushed, defiant face. She perceived clearly that shehad failed, that it was useless to try further.
"Very well," she said slowly. "But I want you to remember in thefuture that I have given you this chance; that I have given you yourchoice, and you have chosen."
"And I tell you again that I defy you!"
"You are a more hardened man, or a more desperate man, than Ithought," said she.
He did not reply upon the instant, but sat gazing into her searchingeyes. Before he could speak, the telephone at his elbow began to ring.He picked it up.
"Hello! Yes, this is Mr. Blake.... Her temperature is the same, yousay?... No, I have not had an answer yet. I expect a telegram anyminute. I'll let you know as soon as it comes. Good-by."
"Is some one sick?" Katherine asked, as he hung up the receiver.
"My mother," he returned briefly, his recent defiance all gone.
Katherine, too, for the moment, forgot their conflict.
"I did not know it. There are so many cases, you know. Who isattending her?"
"Doctor Hunt, temporarily," he answered. "But these Westvilledoctors are all amateurs in serious cases. I've telegraphedfor a specialist--the best man I could hear of--Doctor Brenholtzof Chicago."
His defiance suddenly returned.
"If I have seemed to you worn, unnerved, now you know the real cause!"he said.
"So," she remarked slowly, "the disaster you have brought on Westvillehas struck your own home!"
His face twitched convulsively.
"I believe we have finished our conversation. Good afternoon."
Katherine rose.
"And if she dies, you know who will have killed her."
He sprang up.
"Go! Go!" he cried.
But she remained in her tracks, looking him steadily in the eyes.While they stood so, the stenographer entered and handed him atelegram. He tore it open, glanced it through, and stood staring at itin a kind of stupor.
"My God!" he breathed.
He tore the yellow sheet across, dropped the pieces in thewaste-basket and began to pace his room, on his face a wild, dazedlook. He seemed to have forgotten Katherine's presence. But a turnbrought her into his vision. He stopped short.
"You still here?"
"I was waiting to hear if Doctor Brenholtz was coming," she said.
He stared at her a moment. Then he crossed to his desk, took the twofragments of the telegram from his waste-basket and held them out toher.
"There is what he says."
She took the telegram and read:
"No use my coming. Best man on typhoid in West lives in your own town. See Dr. David West."
Katherine laid down the yellow pieces and raised her eyes to Blake'swhite, strained face. The two gazed at each other for a long moment.
"Well?" he said huskily.
"Well?" she quietly returned.
"Do you think I can get him?"
"How can you get a man who is serving a sentence in jail?"
"If I--if I----" He co
uld not get the words out.
"Yes. If you confess--clear him--get him out of jail--of course hewill treat the case."
"I didn't mean that! God!" he cried, "is confession of a thing I neverdid the fee you exact for saving a life?"
"What, you still hold out?"
"I'm not guilty! I tell you, I'm not guilty!"
"Then you'll not confess?"
"Never! Never!"
"Not even to save your mother?"
"She's sick--very sick. But she's not going to die--I'll not let herdie! Your father does not have to be cleared to get out of jail. Inthis emergency I can arrange to get him out for a time on parole. Whatdo you say?"
She gazed at the desperate, wildly expectant figure. A little shiverran through her.
"What do you say?" he repeated.
"There can be but one answer," she replied. "My father is too big aman to demand any price for his medical skill--even the restoration ofhis honest name by the man who stole it. Parole him, and he will goinstantly to Mrs. Blake."
He dropped into his chair and seized his telephone.
"Central, give me six-o-four--quick!" There was a moment of waiting."This you, Judge Kellog?... This is Harrison Blake. I want you toarrange the proper papers for the immediate parole of Doctor West.I'll be responsible for everything. Am coming right over and willexplain."
He fairly threw the receiver back upon its hook. "Your father will befree in an hour," he cried. And without waiting for a reply, he seizedhis hat and hurried out.
