by Leroy Scott
CHAPTER VIII
ROGERS MAKES AN OFFER
The October day was sinking to its close as David, who was walkingsouthward through Broadway, came to a pause at Thirty-fourth Street towait till a passage should break through the vortex of cabs, trucks, andstreet cars, created here by the crossing of three counter-currents oftraffic.
As he stood waiting he saw a woman in disarranged dress, about whomthere instantly seemed to be a vaguely familiar air, step from the crowdand walk unsteadily into the turbulence of vehicles. A policeman calleda sharp warning to her, but she went on, and the next second theshoulder of a horse sent her to the pavement, and only the promptbackward jerking of the driver saved her from the horse's feet. Thepoliceman dragged her out of danger, and David joined the curious groupthat ringed the pair.
"That'll be your finish some day if you don't leave the bottle alone,"he heard the policeman say severely.
Her answer was a reckless, half-fearful laugh. Her voice roused again inDavid the sense of vague familiarity. Presently she turned her face. Itwas the face of Lillian Drew.
He stared at her a moment, then, careful to hide himself from her eyes,he hurried through the passage that had opened, and on down crowdedBroadway. The sight of her had startled him deeply. His one meeting withher flashed back into his mind, and all the horrible business of hisdiscovery of Morton's guilt, his own accusation, his trial, hissentence--and he lived them through again with sickening vividness.
Presently he began to study if there was any way in which Lillian Drewmight affect the future. Morton she could not injure. Morton was toolong dead; she had sunk to too low a level for her unsupported word tohave belief, and the letters which were her only power had been ashesthese five years. As for himself, him she could not touch. No, LillianDrew was harmless.
And yet he could not wholly rid himself of a feeling of uneasiness.
When David reached home he found Tom waiting at the head of the littlestairway that led down into the basement. The boy had grown much in thelast nine months, and the pinched look had given place to a healthyfulness. But he was still the same boy: his cow-lick still was like acurling wave; his clothes would not stay in order, nor his hands clean,despite his desire to please David and Helen Chambers; and thevernacular of the street, notwithstanding his efforts to "talkschoolroom," still mastered his tongue.
He stopped David with an air of subdued excitement. "Say," he whispered,"de owner o' de house here, he's downstairs waitin' for you. Andsay!--but ain't he mad!"
The owner of the tenement, who had recently moved into another house heowned in the neighbourhood, had before shown an irascible disposition tointerfere in the tenement's management, so Tom's news was no surprise toDavid.
"What's he want?"
"I dunno. But he's swearin' like he'd like to eat you alive."
The owner, drawn by their voices, came out of David's room and mountedthe steps. He belonged to that class of men whose life is a balancebetween gratification of appetite and the relentless pursuit of smallgain, and his coarse, full-lipped, small-eyed face bore the familylikeness.
"Ain't you this fellow Aldrich?" he demanded aggressively, blocking thehead of the stairway.
"You know I am," said David.
"Yes--but I wanted to hear you confess it with your own lips. I havebeen hearin' about you from St. Christopher's Mission. Ain't you thefellow that stole that money from there?"
David saw the brink of a new disaster. But the owner's manner made himbristle.
"Well?"
"Well, no crook can be janitor in my house! Take your things out o' thatroom, and git!"
David wanted to seize the owner by the shoulders and shake his meanlittle soul out upon the sidewalk. "I take my orders from Mr. Rogers,"he returned, controlling himself.
"And Rogers takes his orders from me. See? Now you git!"
"Rogers is my employer."
He swore fiercely at David. "Get too fresh, you dirty thief, and I'llpunch your face in!"
"Please try!"
He looked into David's gleaming eyes, at the shoulders that promised toomuch strength, and his threatening attitude subsided.
"Well, if you won't go for me, we'll see what you'll say to Rogers!" hesnorted. "You come with me to his office."
"If you want me, you'll find me in my room."
David brushed roughly by the owner and went down the stairway. A minutelater, the owner and Rogers entered the room.
"Now you fire him," the owner ordered Rogers. "I ain't goin' to have nojailbirds around."
"But he's given most excellent service for almost a year," Rogersprotested in his quiet voice.
"I ain't to be fooled by that trick," sneered the owner, with a wiselook. "I ain't one o' them muckheads that believes because a thief'sbeen straight for nine months he's always goin' to be straight. No sir!He's nine months nearer his next crooked stunt! Now fire him."
"But--"
"Cut out your 'buts'!" he roared, savagely. "Fire him or"--he lookedthreateningly at Rogers--"there's agents that will!"
Rogers turned slowly upon David who was standing beside his table withburning eyes and clenched face.
"I think you'll have to go, Aldrich," he said, after a moment.
Without a word David picked up his hat and, followed by Tom, walked outof the room. As he tramped hotly through the streets--the boy, pale andsilent, beside him--his bitterness was at first directed even againstRogers. But in a little while he remembered Rogers's situation, and thatRogers could not have saved him--and the bitterness ran out of him. Inits place came the sharp realisation that he was again in theabyss--stronger, better able than a year before to make his way from itssmooth-walled depths--but nevertheless in the abyss. What should he do?how should he get out?--these questions were constantly begging answerstill, two hours later, wearied from walking, he came again into hisroom.
Rogers rose from his table as he entered and looked questioningly athim.
"You understand?--I had to do it?"
"Yes," said David, taking the hand he held out.
Rogers sent Tom out on an errand. After the boy had gone, anger slowlylit its fires in Rogers's thin white cheeks.
"The hardest part of it all is, I dare not be a man, be myself!" heburst out fiercely. "You don't know how heavy and revolting this mask ofdiscretion, of control, of subserviency, becomes at times! He shouldhave been kicked out, stamped on! Ah, to be unafraid!--that's thegreatest thing in the world!"
He stood leaning on his tightened fists, which rested on the table, hiseyes blazing across at David. But after a moment the red and flame beganto die from his face and eyes.
"Come, sit down," he said abruptly. "There's something I want to say toyou."
They both took chairs. "I've been thinking of a plan for several weeks,and I guess this is the time to tell you," Rogers began. "As you know,the land syndicate that's been secretly buying in land up along thePalisades has been sending its agents to me. The syndicate is stillkeeping itself in the dark, but I've learned that it's called the NewJersey Home Company, and that Alexander Chambers is its president. Theactive work of making a deal with them has just begun, and the dealought to come to a head in a month or six weeks."
He paused and gazed steadily at David, his thin face drawing withdespair. Then he said in a low voice:
"Haven't you noticed--during the last year--I've been losing strength?"
David nodded.
"Yes--these prison lungs!" he breathed, with fierce bitterness. "I sawmy doctor last week. He told me in this climate I might last a year--alittle more, a little less. If I went to Colorado or New Mexico I mightlast several years, might even get well. That's what I want todo--finish up this deal, then drop everything and go West.
"He told me I must do no work, and keep away from excitement. I knewthat already. Yet this deal's going to mean a lot of both. I simplyhaven't got the strength to see it through. I must have someone to helpme--and I want that someone to be you."
"Me!
" cried David. "Why, I don't know the first thing about realestate."
"You don't need to. The chief thing will be just to stick to the price Iset. There'll be a lot of stiff talking--you can do that. And Mr.Hoffman will help some; he's got a little interest in the deal."
"But my record. They'll doubtless learn about it. Aren't you afraid thatmay endanger you?"
"I count that they'll say I've taken you in to give you a new chance inlife--and perhaps think no more about it. As for the danger, I'd ratherhave a man I can trust whose record they may find out, than have near mea man who may find out _my_ record--and tell."
David nodded. "I see your point."
"You'll be with me, won't you?"
"Can a drowning man refuse a rope thrown him?"
They shook hands.
"The financial situation is like this," Rogers went on. "In my option Iguaranteed the owners to sell the land for one hundred and fifteenthousand; I had to guarantee high to keep the land. I am to have half ofall I get over that amount, and in addition, an agent's commission offive per cent. of the sale price. I am demanding from the syndicate avery much larger price than it has been paying for similar tracts. AndI'll get my price, too--for they must have the land; and besides, theprice is fair, much less than the land is worth to the syndicate. I'masking one hundred and fifty thousand.
"That makes my share twenty-five thousand. And I shall have earned it.Several times in the last five years the owners--they're a pretty weaklot--have wanted to sell at insignificant prices, but I wouldn't letthem. And if I hadn't been holding them together, they would have soldout months ago to the syndicate at the syndicate's price--eighty orninety thousand. So you see I'm doing a mighty good thing for theowners.
"Now as to terms between you and me. Twenty-five thousand is more thanI'll need even if I live longer than the doctor has promised me. Now Iknow what you want to do about that Mission money. If the deal comes offas I expect, five thousand will be your share."
"Five thousand dollars!" gasped David. "For a month's work? I can't takeit. I shall not have earned the smallest fraction of it!"
"Yes, you will take it. Without your help, I'll fail--so you'll earn itall right. Besides, even if you didn't earn it, with whom should Idivide the money I don't need if not with you?"
David still objected, and at length Rogers cried out:
"Oh, take it as a loan, then, and pay off the Mission! You'd rather oweme than it, wouldn't you? You can pay me back when I need it. Theproposition is the same either way, for I'll be dead before I need it,and I'll make you a present of the amount in my will."
In the end David consented. Rogers went on with the other details of hisplan. David should live with him, and Tom could sleep on a cot in theoffice. It would be wise, with this big deal on, to make a morepretentious office show; Kate Morgan (he spoke of her calmly, but Davidsurmised the quality of the calmness within), who had recently finishedher business course and was looking for a better place than her presentone, should be their stenographer. For the sake of the help it would beto her, and to try the effect of the work-cure upon him, old Jimmieshould succeed to David's place as janitor, and of course he and Kateshould have the basement flat as their home.
When Rogers had gone David walked up and down his basement room--hislast night there!--and looked excitedly into the future. The book--heexpected nothing of that. But here only a month away, almost within hishand, was the sum which, as far as money alone could pay for it, wouldbuy his fair name. He felt an impulse to write Helen of the greatpromise the next month held, but the memory that her father was engagedon the other side vaguely prompted him not to do so; and then came thesecond thought that it would be better to surprise her. Yes, he wouldwait till he had repaid the money to St. Christopher's, and then go toher with the receipt in his hand.
