The Lion and the Mouse; a Story of an American Life

by Charles Klein and Arthur Hornblow

  CHAPTER VIII

  A whirling maelstrom of human activity and dynamic energy--the citywhich above all others is characteristic of the genius and virility ofthe American people--New York, with its congested polyglot populationand teeming millions, is assuredly one of the busiest, as it is one ofthe most strenuous and most noisy places on earth. Yet, despite itsswarming streets and crowded shops, ceaselessly thronged with men andwomen eagerly hurrying here and there in the pursuit of business orelusive pleasure, all chattering, laughing, shouting amid thedeafening, multisonous roar of traffic incidental to Gotham's dailylife, there is one part of the great metropolis where there is nobustle, no noise, no crowd, where the streets are empty even indaytime, where a passer-by is a curiosity and a child a phenomenon.This deserted village in the very heart of the big town is themillionaires' district, the boundaries of which are marked by Carnegiehill on the north, Fiftieth Street on the south, and by Fifth andMadison Avenues respectively on the west and east. There is nothingmore mournful than the outward aspect of these princely residenceswhich, abandoned and empty for three-quarters of the year, stand instately loneliness, as if ashamed of their isolation and utteruselessness. Their blinds drawn, affording no hint of life within,enveloped the greater part of the time in the stillness and silence ofthe tomb, they appear to be under the spell of some baneful curse. Nomerry-voiced children romp in their carefully railed off gardens, nosounds of conversation or laughter come from their hermetically closedwindows, not a soul goes in or out, at most, at rare intervals, doesone catch a glimpse of a gorgeously arrayed servant gliding about inghostly fashion, supercilious and suspicious, and addressing the chancevisitor in awed whispers as though he were the guardian of a house ofaffliction. It is, indeed, like a city of the dead.

  So it appeared to Jefferson as he walked up Fifth Avenue, bound for theRyder residence, the day following his arrival from Europe. Although hestill lived at his father's house, for at no time had there been anopen rupture, he often slept in his studio, finding it more convenientfor his work, and there he had gone straight from the ship. He felt,however, that it was his duty to see his mother as soon as possible;besides he was anxious to fulfil his promise to Shirley and find whathis father could do to help Judge Rossmore. He had talked about thecase with several men the previous evening at the club and the generalimpression seemed to be that, guilty or innocent, the judge would bedriven off the bench. The "interests" had forced the matter as a partyissue, and the Republicans being in control in the Senate the outcomecould hardly be in doubt. He had learned also of the other misfortuneswhich had befallen Judge Rossmore and he understood now the reason forShirley's grave face on the dock and her little fib about summering onLong Island. The news had been a shock to him, for, apart from the factthat the judge was Shirley's father, he admired him immensely as a man.Of his perfect innocence there could, of course, be no question: thesecharges of bribery had simply been trumped up by his enemies to get himoff the bench. That was very evident. The "interests" feared him and sohad sacrificed him without pity, and as Jefferson walked along CentralPark, past the rows of superb palaces which face its eastern wall, hewondered in which particular mansion had been hatched this wicked,iniquitous plot against a wholly blameless American citizen. Here, hethought, were the citadels of the plutocrats, America's aristocracy ofmoney, the strongholds of her Coal, Railroad, Oil, Gas and Ice barons,the castles of her monarchs of Steel, Copper, and Finance. Each ofthese million-dollar residences, he pondered, was filled from cellar toroof with costly furnishings, masterpieces of painting and sculpture,priceless art treasures of all kinds purchased in every corner of theglobe with the gold filched from a Trust-ridden people. For every stonein those marble halls a human being, other than the owner, had beensold into bondage, for each of these magnificent edifices, which theplutocrat put up in his pride only to occupy it two months in the year,ten thousand American men, women and children had starved and sorrowed.

  Europe, thought Jefferson as he strode quickly along, pointed with envyto America's unparalleled prosperity, spoke with bated breath of hergreat fortunes. Rather should they say her gigantic robberies, hercolossal frauds! As a nation we were not proud of ourmulti-millionaires. How many of them would bear the search-light ofinvestigation? Would his own father? How many millions could one manmake by honest methods? America was enjoying unprecedented prosperity,not because of her millionaires, but in spite of them. The UnitedStates owed its high rank in the family of nations to the country'svast natural resources, its inexhaustible vitality, its great wheatfields, the industrial and mechanical genius of its people. It was theplain American citizen who had made the greatness of America, not themillionaires who, forming a class by themselves of unscrupulouscapitalists, had created an arrogant oligarchy which sought to rule thecountry by corrupting the legislature and the judiciary. Theplutocrats--these were the leeches, the sores in the body politic. Anorganized band of robbers, they had succeeded in dominating legislationand in securing control of every branch of the nation's industry,crushing mercilessly and illegally all competition. They were the MoneyPower, and such a menace were they to the welfare of the people that,it had been estimated, twenty men in America had it in their power, byreason of the vast wealth which they controlled, to come together, andwithin twenty-four hours arrive at an understanding by which everywheel of trade and commerce would be stopped from revolving, everyavenue of trade blocked and every electric key struck dumb. Thosetwenty men could paralyze the whole country, for they controlled thecirculation of the currency and could create a panic whenever theymight choose. It was the rapaciousness and insatiable greed of theseplutocrats that had forced the toilers to combine for self-protection,resulting in the organization of the Labor Unions which, in time,became almost as tyrannical and unreasonable as the bosses. And thebreach between capital on the one hand and labour on the other waswidening daily, masters and servants snarling over wages and hours, thequarrel ever increasing in bitterness and acrimony until one day theextreme limit of patience would be reached and industrial strikes wouldgive place to bloody violence.

  Meantime the plutocrats, wholly careless of the significant signs ofthe times and the growing irritation and resentment of the people,continued their illegal practices, scoffing at public opinion, snappingtheir fingers at the law, even going so far in their insolence as tomock and jibe at the President of the United States. Feeling secure inlong immunity and actually protected in their wrong doing by thecourts--the legal machinery by its very elaborateness defeating theends of justice--the Trust kings impudently defied the country andtried to impose their own will upon the people. History had thusrepeated itself. The armed feudalism of the middle ages had beensucceeded in twentieth century America by the tyranny of capital.

  Yet, ruminated the young artist as he neared the Ryder residence, theAmerican people had but themselves to blame for their presentthralldom. Forty years before Abraham Lincoln had warned the countrywhen at the close of the war he saw that the race for wealth wasalready making men and women money-mad. In 1864 he wrote these words:

  "Yes, we may congratulate ourselves that this cruel war is nearing itsclose. It has cost a vast amount of treasure and blood. The best bloodof the flower of American youth has been freely offered upon ourcountry's altar that the nation might live. It has been indeed a tryinghour for the Republic, but I see in the near future a crisisapproaching that unnerves me and causes me to tremble for the safety ofmy country. As a result of the war, corporations have been enthronedand an era of corruption in high places will follow and the money powerof the country will endeavor to prolong its reign by working upon theprejudices of the people until all the wealth is aggregated in a fewhands and the Republic is destroyed."

  Truly prophetic these solemn words were to-day. Forgetting the austeresimplicity of their forebears, a love of show and ostentation hadbecome the ruling passion of the American people. Money, MONEY,_MONEY_! was to-day the only standard, the only god! The whole nation,frenzied with a wild lust for
wealth no matter how acquired, hadtacitly acquiesced in all sorts of turpitude, every description ofmoral depravity, and so had fallen an easy victim to the band ofcapitalistic adventurers who now virtually ruled the land. With thethieves in power, the courts were powerless, the demoralization wasgeneral and the world was afforded the edifying spectacle of an entirecountry given up to an orgy of graft--treason in the Senate--corruptionin the Legislature, fraudulent elections, leaks in government reports,trickery in Wall Street, illegal corners in coal, meat, ice and otherprime necessaries of life, the deadly horrors of the Beef and DrugTrusts, railroad conspiracies, insurance scandals, the wrecking ofsavings banks, police dividing spoils with pickpockets and sharing thewages of prostitutes, magistrates charged with blackmailing--a foulstench of social rottenness and decay! What, thought Jefferson, wouldbe the outcome--Socialism or Anarchy?

  Still, he mused, one ray of hope pierced the general gloom--the commonsense, the vigour and the intelligence of the true American man andwoman, the love for a "square deal" which was characteristic of theplain people, the resistless force of enlightened public opinion. Thecountry was merely passing through a dark phase in its history, it wasthe era of the grafters. There would come a reaction, the rascals wouldbe exposed and driven off, and the nation would go on upward toward itshigh destiny. The country was fortunate, too, in having a strongpresident, a man of high principles and undaunted courage who hadalready shown his capacity to deal with the critical situation. Americawas lucky with her presidents. Picked out by the great politicalparties as mere figureheads, sometimes they deceived their sponsors,and showed themselves men and patriots. Such a president was TheodoreRoosevelt. After beginning vigorous warfare on the Trusts, attackingfearlessly the most rascally of the band, the chief of the nation hadsounded the slogan of alarm in regard to the multi-millionaires. Theamassing of colossal fortunes, he had declared, must be stopped--a manmight accumulate more than sufficient for his own needs and for theneeds of his children, but the evil practice of perpetuating great andever-increasing fortunes for generations yet unborn was recognized as aperil to the State. To have had the courage to propose such a sweepingand radical restrictive measure as this should alone, thoughtJefferson, ensure for Theodore Roosevelt a place among America'sgreatest and wisest statesmen. He and Americans of his calibre wouldeventually perform the titanic task of cleansing these Augean stables,the muck and accumulated filth of which was sapping the health andvitality of the nation.

  Jefferson turned abruptly and went up the wide steps of an imposingwhite marble edifice, which took up the space of half a city block. Afine example of French Renaissance architecture, with spire roofs,round turrets and mullioned windows dominating the neighbouring houses,this magnificent home of the plutocrat, with its furnishings and arttreasures, had cost John Burkett Ryder nearly ten millions of dollars.It was one of the show places of the town, and when the "rubber neck"wagons approached the Ryder mansion and the guides, through theirmegaphones, expatiated in awe-stricken tones on its external and hiddenbeauties, there was a general craning of vertebrae among the "seeingNew York"-ers to catch a glimpse of the abode of the richest man in theworld.

  Only a few privileged ones were ever permitted to penetrate to theinterior of this ten-million-dollar home. Ryder was not fond ofcompany, he avoided strangers and lived in continual apprehension ofthe subpoena server. Not that he feared the law, only he usually foundit inconvenient to answer questions in court under oath. The explicitinstructions to the servants, therefore, were to admit no one under anypretext whatever unless the visitor had been approved by the Hon.Fitzroy Bagley, Mr. Ryder's aristocratic private secretary, and tofacilitate this preliminary inspection there had been installed betweenthe library upstairs and the front door one of those ingenious electricwriting devices, such as are used in banks, on which a name is hastilyscribbled, instantly transmitted elsewhere, immediately answered andthe visitor promptly admitted or as quickly shown the door.

  Indeed the house, from the street, presented many of thecharacteristics of a prison. It had massive doors behind a row ofhighly polished steel gates, which would prove as useful in case ofattempted invasion as they were now ornamental, and heavily barredwindows, while on either side of the portico were great marble columnshung with chains and surmounted with bronze lions rampant. It wasunusual to keep the town house open so late in the summer, but Mr.Ryder was obliged for business reasons to be in New York at this time,and Mrs. Ryder, who was one of the few American wives who do not alwaysget their own way, had good-naturedly acquiesced in the wishes of herlord.

  Jefferson did not have to ring at the paternal portal. The sentinelwithin was at his post; no one could approach that door without beingseen and his arrival and appearance signalled upstairs. But the greatman's son headed the list of the privileged ones, so without ado thesmartly dressed flunkey opened wide the doors and Jefferson was underhis father's roof.

  "Is my father in?" he demanded of the man.

  "No, sir," was the respectful answer. "Mr. Ryder has gone out driving,but Mr. Bagley is upstairs." Then after a brief pause he added: "Mrs.Ryder is in, too."

  In this household where the personality of the mistress was socompletely overshadowed by the stronger personality of the master thelatter's secretary was a more important personage to the servants thanthe unobtrusive wife.

  Jefferson went up the grand staircase hung on either side with fine oldportraits and rare tapestries, his feet sinking deep in the rich velvetcarpet. On the first landing was a piece of sculptured marble ofinestimable worth, seen in the soft warm light that sifted through agreat pictorial stained-glass window overhead, the subject representingAjax and Ulysses contending for the armour of Achilles. To the left ofthis, at the top of another flight leading to the library, was hung afine full-length portrait of John Burkett Ryder. The ceilings here asin the lower hall were richly gilt and adorned with paintings by famousmodern artists. When he reached this floor Jefferson was about to turnto the right and proceed direct to his mother's suite when he heard avoice near the library door. It was Mr. Bagley giving instructions tothe butler.

  The Honourable Fitzroy Bagley, a younger son of a British peer, hadleft his country for his country's good, and in order to turn an honestpenny, which he had never succeeded in doing at home, he had enteredthe service of America's foremost financier, hoping to gather a few ofthe crumbs that fell from the rich man's table and disguising themenial nature of his position under the high-sounding title of privatesecretary. His job called for a spy and a toady and he filled theserequirements admirably. Excepting with his employer, of whom he stoodin craven fear, his manner was condescendingly patronizing to all withwhom he came in contact, as if he were anxious to impress on theseAmerican plebeians the signal honour which a Fitzroy, son of a Britishpeer, did them in deigning to remain in their "blarsted" country. InMr. Ryder's absence, therefore, he ran the house to suit himself,bullying the servants and not infrequently issuing orders that werecontradictory to those already given by Mrs. Ryder. The latter offeredno resistance, she knew he was useful to her husband and, what to hermind was a still better reason for letting him have his own way, shehad always had the greatest reverence for the British aristocracy. Itwould have seemed to her little short of vulgarity to question theactions of anyone who spoke with such a delightful English accent.Moreover, he dressed with irreproachable taste, was an acknowledgedauthority on dinner menus and social functions and knew his Burkebackwards--altogether an accomplished and invaluable person.

  Jefferson could not bear the sight of him; in fact, it was this man'scontinual presence in the house that had driven him to seek refugeelsewhere. He believed him to be a scoundrel as he certainly was a cad.Nor was his estimate of the English secretary far wrong. The man, likehis master, was a grafter, and the particular graft he was after nowwas either to make a marriage with a rich American girl or to socompromise her that the same end would be attained. He was shrewdenough to realize that he had little chance to get what he wanted inthe open m
atrimonial market, so he determined to attempt a raid andcarry off an heiress under her father's nose, and the particularproboscis he had selected was that of his employer's friend, SenatorRoberts. The senator and Miss Roberts were frequently at the RyderHouse and in course of time the aristocratic secretary and the daughterhad become quite intimate. A flighty girl, with no other purpose inlife beyond dress and amusement and having what she termed "a goodtime," Kate thought it excellent pastime to flirt with Mr. Bagley, andwhen she discovered that he was serious in his attentions she feltflattered rather than indignant. After all, she argued, he was of noblebirth. If his two brothers died he would be peer of England, and shehad enough money for both. He might not make a bad husband. But she wascareful to keep her own counsel and not let her father have anysuspicion of what was going on. She knew that his heart was set on hermarrying Jefferson Ryder and she knew better than anyone how impossiblethat dream was. She herself liked Jefferson quite enough to marry him,but if his eyes were turned in another direction--and she knew allabout his attentions to Miss Rossmore--she was not going to break herheart about it. So she continued to flirt secretly with the HonourableFitzroy while she still led the Ryders and her own father to think thatshe was interested in Jefferson.

  "Jorkins," Mr. Bagley was saying to the butler, "Mr. Ryder will occupythe library on his return. See that he is not disturbed."

  "Yes, sir," replied the butler respectfully. The man turned to go whenthe secretary called him back.

  "And, Jorkins, you will station another man at the front entrance.Yesterday it was left unguarded, and a man had the audacity to addressMr. Ryder as he was getting out of his carriage. Last week a reportertried to snapshot him. Mr. Ryder was furious. These things must nothappen again, Jorkins. I shall hold you responsible."

  "Very good, sir." The butler bowed and went downstairs. The secretarylooked up and saw Jefferson. His face reddened and his manner grewnervous.

  "Hello! Back from Europe, Jefferson? How jolly! Your mother will bedelighted. She's in her room upstairs."

  Declining to take the hint, and gathering from Bagley's embarrassedmanner that he wanted to get rid of him, Jefferson lingered purposely.When the butler had disappeared, he said:

  "This house is getting more and more like a barracks every day. You'vegot men all over the place. One can't move a step without falling overone."

  Mr. Bagley drew himself up stiffly, as he always did when assuming anair of authority.

  "Your father's personality demands the utmost precaution," he replied."We cannot leave the life of the richest and most powerful financier inthe world at the mercy of the rabble."

  "What rabble?" inquired Jefferson, amused.

  "The common rabble--the lower class--the riff-raff," explained Mr.Bagley.

  "Pshaw!" laughed Jefferson. "If our financiers were only half asrespectable as the common rabble, as you call them, they would need nobars to their houses."

  Mr. Bagley sneered and shrugged his shoulders.

  "Your father has warned me against your socialistic views." Then, witha lofty air, he added: "For four years I was third groom of thebedchamber to the second son of England's queen. I know myresponsibilities."

  "But you are not groom of the bedchamber here," retorted Jefferson.

  "Whatever I am," said Mr. Bagley haughtily, "I am answerable to yourfather alone."

  "By the way, Bagley," asked Jefferson, "when do you expect father toreturn? I want to see him."

  "I'm afraid it's quite impossible," answered the secretary with studiedinsolence. "He has three important people to see before dinner. There'sthe National Republican Committee and Sergeant Ellison of the SecretService from Washington--all here by appointment. It's quiteimpossible."

  "I didn't ask you if it were possible. I said I wanted to see him and Iwill see him," answered Jefferson quietly but firmly, and in a tone andmanner which did not admit of further opposition. "I'll go and leaveword for him on his desk," he added.

  He started to enter the library when the secretary, who was visiblyperturbed, attempted to bar his way.

  "There's some one in there," he said in an undertone. "Someone waitingfor your father."

  "Is there?" replied Jefferson coolly. "I'll see who it is," with whichhe brushed past Mr. Bagley and entered the library.

  He had guessed aright. A woman was there. It was Kate Roberts.

  "Hello, Kate! how are you?" They called each other by their firstnames, having been acquainted for years, and while theirs was anindifferent kind of friendship they had always been on good terms. Atone time Jefferson had even begun to think he might do what his fatherwished and marry the girl, but it was only after he had met and knownShirley Rossmore that he realized how different one woman can be fromanother. Yet Kate had her good qualities. She was frivolous and sillyas are most girls with no brains and nothing else to do in life butdress and spend money, but she might yet be happy with some otherfellow, and that was why it made him angry to see this girl with$100,000 in her own right playing into the hands of an unscrupulousadventurer. He had evidently disturbed an interesting tete-a-tete. Hedecided to say nothing, but mentally he resolved to spoil Mr. Bagley'sgame and save Kate from her own folly. On hearing his voice Kate turnedand gave a little cry of genuine surprise.

  "Why, is it you, Jeff? I thought you were in Europe."

  "I returned yesterday," he replied somewhat curtly. He crossed over tohis father's desk where he sat down to scribble a few words, while Mr.Bagley, who had followed him in scowling, was making frantic dumb signsto Kate.

  "I fear I intrude here," said Jefferson pointedly.

  "Oh, dear no, not at all," replied Kate in some confusion. "I waswaiting for my father. How is Paris?" she asked.

  "Lovely as ever," he answered.

  "Did you have a good time?" she inquired.

  "I enjoyed it immensely. I never had a better one."

  "You probably were in good company," she said significantly. Then sheadded: "I believe Miss Rossmore was in Paris."

  "Yes, I think she was there," was his non-committal answer.

  To change the conversation, which was becoming decidedly personal, hepicked up a book that was lying on his father's desk and glanced at thetitle. It was "The American Octopus."

  "Is father still reading this?" he asked. "He was at it when I left."

  "Everybody is reading it," said Kate. "The book has made a bigsensation. Do you know who the hero is?"

  "Who?" he asked with an air of the greatest innocence.

  "Why, no less a personage than your father--John Burkett Ryder himself!Everybody says it's he--the press and everybody that's read it. He saysso himself."

  "Really?" he exclaimed with well-simulated surprise. "I must read it."

  "It has made a strong impression on Mr. Ryder," chimed in Mr. Bagley."I never knew him to be so interested in a book before. He's trying hisbest to find out who the author is. It's a jolly well written book andraps you American millionaires jolly well--what?"

  "Whoever wrote the book," interrupted Kate, "is somebody who knows Mr.Ryder exceedingly well. There are things in it that an outsider couldnot possibly know."

  "Phew!" Jefferson whistled softly to himself. He was treading dangerousground. To conceal his embarrassment, he rose.

  "If you'll excuse me, I'll go and pay my filial respects upstairs. I'llsee you again." He gave Kate a friendly nod, and without even glancingat Mr. Bagley left the room.

  The couple stood in silence for a few moments after he disappeared.Then Kate went to the door and listened to his retreating footsteps.When she was sure that he was out of earshot she turned on Mr. Bagleyindignantly.

  "You see what you expose me to. Jefferson thinks this was a rendezvous."

  "Well, it was to a certain extent," replied the secretary unabashed."Didn't you ask me to see you here?"

  "Yes," said Kate, taking a letter from her bosom, "I wanted to ask youwhat this means?"

  "My dear Miss Roberts--Kate--I"--stammered the secretary.
<
br />   "How dare you address me in this manner when you know I and Mr. Ryderare engaged?"

  No one knew better than Kate that this was not true, but she said itpartly out of vanity, partly out of a desire to draw out thisEnglishman who made such bold love to her.

  "Miss Roberts," replied Mr. Bagley loftily, "in that note I expressedmy admiration--my love for you. Your engagement to Mr. Jefferson Ryderis, to say the least, a most uncertain fact." There was a tinge ofsarcasm in his voice that did not escape Kate.

  "You must not judge from appearances," she answered, trying to keep upthe outward show of indignation which inwardly she did not feel. "Jeffand I may hide a passion that burns like a volcano. All lovers are notdemonstrative, you know."

  The absurdity of this description as applied to her relations withJefferson appealed to her as so comical that she burst into laughter inwhich the secretary joined.

  "Then why did you remain here with me when the Senator went out withMr. Ryder, senior?" he demanded.

  "To tell you that I cannot listen to your nonsense any longer,"retorted the girl.

  "What?" he cried, incredulously. "You remain here to tell me that youcannot listen to me when you could easily have avoided listening to mewithout telling me so. Kate, your coldness is not convincing."

  "You mean you think I want to listen to you?" she demanded.

  "I do," he answered, stepping forward as if to take her in his arms.

  "Mr. Bagley!" she exclaimed, recoiling.

  "A week ago," he persisted, "you called me Fitzroy. Once, in anoutburst of confidence, you called me Fitz."

  "You hadn't asked me to marry you then," she laughed mockingly. Thenedging away towards the door she waved her hand at him playfully andsaid teasingly: "Good-bye, Mr. Bagley, I am going upstairs to Mrs.Ryder. I will await my father's return in her room. I think I shall besafer."

  He ran forward to intercept her, but she was too quick for him. Thedoor slammed in his face and she was gone.

  Meantime Jefferson had proceeded upstairs, passing through long andluxuriously carpeted corridors with panelled frescoed walls, and hungwith grand old tapestries and splendid paintings, until he came to hismother's room. He knocked.

  "Come in!" called out the familiar voice. He entered. Mrs. Ryder wasbusy at her escritoire looking over a mass of household accounts.

  "Hello, mother!" he cried, running up and hugging her in his boyish,impulsive way. Jefferson had always been devoted to his mother, andwhile he deplored her weakness in permitting herself to be socompletely under the domination of his father, she had always found himan affectionate and loving son.

  "Jefferson!" she exclaimed when he released her. "My dear boy, when didyou arrive?"

  "Only yesterday. I slept at the studio last night. You're lookingbully, mother. How's father?"

  Mrs. Ryder sighed while she looked her son over proudly. In her heartshe was glad Jefferson had turned out as he had. Her boy certainlywould never be a financier to be attacked in magazines and books.Answering his question she said:

  "Your father is as well as those busybodies in the newspapers will lethim be. He's considerably worried just now over that new book 'TheAmerican Octopus.' How dare they make him out such a monster? He's noworse than other successful business men. He's richer, that's all, andit makes them jealous. He's out driving now with Senator Roberts. Kateis somewhere in the house--in the library, I think."

  "Yes, I found her there," replied Jefferson dryly. "She was with thatcad, Bagley. When is father going to find that fellow out?"

  "Oh, Jefferson," protested his mother, "how can you talk like that ofMr. Bagley. He is such a perfect gentleman. His family connectionsalone should entitle him to respect. He is certainly the best secretaryyour father ever had. I'm sure I don't know what we should do withouthim. He knows everything that a gentleman should."

  "And a good deal more, I wager," growled Jefferson. "He wasn't groom ofthe backstairs to England's queen for nothing." Then changing thetopic, he said suddenly: "Talking about Kate, mother, we have got toreach some definite understanding. This talk about my marrying her muststop. I intend to take the matter up with father to-day."

  "Oh, of course, more trouble!" replied his mother in a resigned tone.She was so accustomed to having her wishes thwarted that she was neversurprised at anything. "We heard of your goings on in Paris. That MissRossmore was there, was she not?"

  "That has got nothing to do with it," replied Jefferson warmly. Heresented Shirley's name being dragged into the discussion. Then morecalmly he went on: "Now, mother, be reasonable, listen. I purpose tolive my own life. I have already shown my father that I will not bedictated to, and that I can earn my own living. He has no right toforce this marriage on me. There has never been any misunderstanding onKate's part. She and I understand each other thoroughly."

  "Well, Jefferson, you may be right from your point of view," repliedhis mother weakly. She invariably ended by agreeing with the last onewho argued with her. "You are of age, of course. Your parents have onlya moral right over you. Only remember this: it would be foolish of youto do anything now to anger your father. His interests are yourinterests. Don't do anything to jeopardize them. Of course, you can'tbe forced to marry a girl you don't care for, but your father will bebitterly disappointed. He had set his heart on this match. He knows allabout your infatuation for Miss Rossmore and it has made him furious. Isuppose you've heard about her father?"

  "Yes, and it's a dastardly outrage," blurted out Jefferson. "It's adamnable conspiracy against one of the most honourable men that everlived, and I mean to ferret out and expose the authors. I came hereto-day to ask father to help me."

  "You came to ask your father to help you?" echoed his motherincredulously.

  "Why not?" demanded Jefferson. "Is it true then that he is selfishnessincarnate? Wouldn't he do that much to help a friend?"

  "You've come to the wrong house, Jeff. You ought to know that. Yourfather is far from being Judge Rossmore's friend. Surely you have senseenough to realize that there are two reasons why he would not raise afinger to help him. One is that he has always been his opponent inpublic life, the other is that you want to marry his daughter."

  Jefferson sat as if struck dumb. He had not thought of that. Yes, itwas true. His father and the father of the girl he loved were mortalenemies. How was help to be expected from the head of those "interests"which the judge had always attacked, and now he came to think of it,perhaps his own father was really at the bottom of these abominablecharges! He broke into a cold perspiration and his voice was altered ashe said:

  "Yes, I see now, mother. You are right." Then he added bitterly: "Thathas always been the trouble at home. No matter where I turn, I am upagainst a stone wall--the money interests. One never hears a glimmer offellow-feeling, never a word of human sympathy, only cold calculation,heartless reasoning, money, money, money! Oh, I am sick of it. I don'twant any of it. I am going away where I'll hear no more of it."

  His mother laid her hand gently on his shoulder.

  "Don't talk that way, Jefferson. Your father is not a bad man at heart,you know that. His life has been devoted to money making and he hasmade a greater fortune than any man living or dead. He is only what hislife has made him. He has a good heart. And he loves you--his only son.But his business enemies--ah! those he never forgives."

  Jefferson was about to reply when suddenly a dozen electric bellssounded all over the house.

  "What's that?" exclaimed Jefferson, alarmed, and starting towards thedoor.

  "Oh, that's nothing," smiled his mother. "We have had that put in sinceyou went away. Your father must have just come in. Those bells announcethe fact. It was done so that if there happened to be any strangers inthe house they could be kept out of the way until he reached thelibrary safely."

  "Oh," laughed Jefferson, "he's afraid some one will kidnap him?Certainly he would be a rich prize. I wouldn't care for the job myself,though. They'd be catching a tartar."

  His speech was interrupted b
y a timid knock at the door.

  "May I come in to say good-bye?" asked a voice which they recognized asKate's. She had successfully escaped from Mr. Bagley's importunitiesand was now going home with the Senator. She smiled amiably atJefferson and they chatted pleasantly of his trip abroad. He wassincerely sorry for this girl whom they were trying to foist on him.Not that he thought she really cared for him, he was well aware thathers was a nature that made it impossible to feel very deeply on anysubject, but the idea of this ready-made marriage was so foreign, sorevolting to the American mind! He thought it would be a kindness towarn her against Bagley.

  "Don't be foolish, Kate," he said. "I was not blind just now in thelibrary. That man is no good."

  As is usual when one's motives are suspected, the girl resented hisinterference. She knew he hated Mr. Bagley and she thought it mean ofhim to try and get even in this way. She stiffened up and repliedcoldly:

  "I think I am able to look after myself, Jefferson. Thanks, all thesame."

  He shrugged his shoulders and made no reply. She said good-bye to Mrs.Ryder, who was again immersed in her tradespeople bills, and left theroom, escorted by Jefferson, who accompanied her downstairs and on tothe street where Senator Roberts was waiting for her in the openvictoria. The senator greeted with unusual cordiality the young manwhom he still hoped to make his son-in-law.

  "Come and see us, Jefferson," he said. "Come to dinner any evening. Weare always alone and Kate and I will be glad to see you."

  "Jefferson has so little time now, father. His work and--his friendskeep him pretty busy."

  Jefferson had noted both the pause and the sarcasm, but he saidnothing. He smiled and the senator raised his hat. As the carriagedrove off the young man noticed that Kate glanced at one of the upperwindows where Mr. Bagley stood behind a curtain watching. Jeffersonreturned to the house. The psychological moment had arrived. He must gonow and confront his father in the library.