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

by Charles Klein and Arthur Hornblow

  CHAPTER XI

  The Hon. Fitzroy Bagley had every reason to feel satisfied withhimself. His affaire de coeur with the Senator's daughter wasprogressing more smoothly than ever, and nothing now seemed likely tointerfere with his carefully prepared plans to capture an Americanheiress. The interview with Kate Roberts in the library, so awkwardlydisturbed by Jefferson's unexpected intrusion, had been followed byother interviews more secret and more successful, and the plausiblesecretary had contrived so well to persuade the girl that he reallythought the world of her, and that a brilliant future awaited her ashis wife, that it was not long before he found her in a mood to refusehim nothing.

  Bagley urged immediate marriage; he insinuated that Jefferson hadtreated her shamefully and that she owed it to herself to show theworld that there were other men as good as the one who had jilted her.He argued that in view of the Senator being bent on the match withRyder's son it would be worse than useless for him, Bagley, to makeformal application for her hand, so, as he explained, the only thingwhich remained was a runaway marriage. Confronted with the faitaccompli, papa Roberts would bow to the inevitable. They could getmarried quietly in town, go away for a short trip, and when the Senatorhad gotten over his first disappointment they would be welcomed backwith open arms.

  Kate listened willingly enough to this specious reasoning. In her heartshe was piqued at Jefferson's indifference and she was foolish enoughto really believe that this marriage with a British nobleman, twiceremoved, would be in the nature of a triumph over him. Besides, thisproject of an elopement appealed strangely to her frivolousimagination; it put her in the same class as all her favourite novelheroines. And it would be capital fun!

  Meantime, Senator Roberts, in blissful ignorance of this little plotagainst his domestic peace, was growing impatient and he approached hisfriend Ryder once more on the subject of his son Jefferson. The youngman, he said, had been back from Europe some time. He insisted onknowing what his attitude was towards his daughter. If they wereengaged to be married he said there should be a public announcement ofthe fact. It was unfair to him and a slight to his daughter to letmatters hang fire in this unsatisfactory way and he hinted that bothhimself and his daughter might demand their passports from the Rydermansion unless some explanation were forthcoming.

  Ryder was in a quandary. He had no wish to quarrel with his usefulWashington ally; he recognized the reasonableness of his complaint. Yetwhat could he do? Much as he himself desired the marriage, his son wasobstinate and showed little inclination to settle down. He even hintedat attractions in another quarter. He did not tell the Senator of hisrecent interview with his son when the latter made it very plain thatthe marriage could never take place. Ryder, Sr., had his own reasonsfor wishing to temporize. It was quite possible that Jefferson mightchange his mind and abandon his idea of going abroad and he suggestedto the Senator that perhaps if he, the Senator, made the engagementpublic through the newspapers it might have the salutary effect offorcing his son's hand.

  So a few mornings later there appeared among the society notes inseveral of the New York papers this paragraph:

  "The engagement is announced of Miss Katherine Roberts, only daughterof senator Roberts of Wisconsin, to Jefferson Ryder, son of Mr. JohnBurkett Ryder."

  Two persons in New York happened to see the item about the same timeand both were equally interested, although it affected them in adifferent manner. One was Shirley Rossmore, who had chanced to pick upthe newspaper at the breakfast table in her boarding house.

  "So soon?" she murmured to herself. Well, why not? She could not blameJefferson. He had often spoken to her of this match arranged by hisfather and they had laughed over it as a typical marriage ofconvenience modelled after the Continental pattern. Jefferson, sheknew, had never cared for the girl nor taken the affair seriously. Somepowerful influences must have been at work to make him surrender soeasily. Here again she recognized the masterly hand of Ryder, Sr., andmore than ever she was eager to meet this extraordinary man and measureher strength with his. Her mind, indeed, was too full of her father'stroubles to grieve over her own however much she might have beeninclined to do so under other circumstances, and all that day she didher best to banish the paragraph from her thoughts. More than a weekhad passed since she left Massapequa and what with corresponding withfinanciers, calling on editors and publishers, every moment of her timehad been kept busy. She had found a quiet and reasonable pricedboarding house off Washington Square and here Stott had called severaltimes to see her. Her correspondence with Mr. Ryder had now reached aphase when it was impossible to invent any further excuses for delayingthe interview asked for. As she had foreseen, a day or two after herarrival in town she had received a note from Mrs. Ryder asking her todo her the honour to call and see her, and Shirley, after waitinganother two days, had replied making an appointment for the followingday at three o'clock. This was the same day on which the paragraphconcerning the Ryder-Roberts engagement appeared in the societychronicles of the metropolis.

  Directly after the meagre meal which in New York boarding houses isdignified by the name of luncheon, Shirley proceeded to get ready forthis portentous visit to the Ryder mansion. She was anxious to make afavourable impression on the financier, so she took some pains with herpersonal appearance. She always looked stylish, no matter what shewore, and her poverty was of too recent date to make much difference toher wardrobe, which was still well supplied with Paris-made gowns. Sheselected a simple close-fitting gown of gray chiffon cloth and apicture hat of Leghorn straw heaped with red roses, Shirley's favouriteflower. Thus arrayed, she sallied forth at two o'clock--a little graymouse to do battle with the formidable lion.

  The sky was threatening, so instead of walking a short way up FifthAvenue for exercise, as she had intended doing, she cut across townthrough Ninth Street, and took the surface car on Fourth Avenue. Thiswould put her down at Madison Avenue and Seventy-fourth Street, whichwas only a block from the Ryder residence. She looked so pretty and wasso well dressed that the passers-by who looked after her wondered whyshe did not take a cab instead of standing on a street corner for acar. But one's outward appearance is not always a faithful index to thecondition of one's pocketbook, and Shirley was rapidly acquiring theart of economy.

  It was not without a certain trepidation that she began this journey.So far, all her plans had been based largely on theory, but now thatshe was actually on her way to Mr. Ryder all sorts of misgivings besether. Suppose he knew her by sight and roughly accused her of obtainingaccess to his house under false pretences and then had her ejected bythe servants? How terrible and humiliating that would be! And even ifhe did not how could she possibly find those letters with him watchingher, and all in the brief time of a conventional afternoon call? It hadbeen an absurd idea from the first. Stott was right; she saw that now.But she had entered upon it and she was not going to confess herselfbeaten until she had tried. And as the car sped along Madison Avenue,gradually drawing nearer to the house which she was going to enterdisguised as it were, like a burglar, she felt cold chills run up anddown her spine--the same sensation that one experiences when one ringsthe bell of a dentist's where one has gone to have a tooth extracted.In fact, she felt so nervous and frightened that if she had not beenashamed before herself she would have turned back. In about twentyminutes the car stopped at the corner of Seventy-fourth Street. Shirleydescended and with a quickened pulse walked towards the Ryder mansion,which she knew well by sight.

  There was one other person in New York who, that same morning, had readthe newspaper item regarding the Ryder-Roberts betrothal, and he didnot take the matter so calmly as Shirley had done. On the contrary, ithad the effect of putting him into a violent rage. This was Jefferson.He was working in his studio when he read it and five minutes later hewas tearing up-town to seek the author of it. He understood its object,of course; they wanted to force his hand, to shame him into thismarriage, to so entangle him with the girl that no other alternativewould be possible to an honourable ma
n. It was a despicable trick andhe had no doubt that his father was at the back of it. So his mind nowwas fully made up. He would go away at once where they could not makehis life a burden with this odious marriage which was fast becoming anightmare to him. He would close up his studio and leave immediatelyfor Europe. He would show his father once for all that he was a man andexpected to be treated as one.

  He wondered what Shirley was doing. Where had she gone, what was thismysterious work of which she had spoken? He only realized now, when sheseemed entirely beyond his reach, how much he loved her and how emptyhis life would be without her. He would know no happiness until she washis wife. Her words on the porch did not discourage him. Under thecircumstances he could not expect her to have said anything else. Shecould not marry into John Ryder's family with such a charge hangingover her own father's head, but, later, when the trial was over, nomatter how it turned out, he would go to her again and ask her to behis wife.

  On arriving home the first person he saw was the ubiquitous Mr. Bagley,who stood at the top of the first staircase giving some letters to thebutler. Jefferson cornered him at once, holding out the newspapercontaining the offending paragraph.

  "Say, Bagley," he cried, "what does this mean? Is this any of yourdoing?"

  The English secretary gave his employer's son a haughty stare, andthen, without deigning to reply or even to glance at the newspaper,continued his instructions to the servant:

  "Here, Jorkins, get stamps for all these letters and see they aremailed at once. They are very important."

  "Very good, sir."

  The man took the letters and disappeared, while Jefferson, impatient,repeated his question:

  "My doing?" sneered Mr. Bagley. "Really, Jefferson, you go too far! Doyou suppose for one instant that I would condescend to trouble myselfwith your affairs?"

  Jefferson was in no mood to put up with insolence from anyone,especially from a man whom he heartily despised, so advancingmenacingly he thundered:

  "I mean--were you, in the discharge of your menial-like duties,instructed by my father to send that paragraph to the newspapersregarding my alleged betrothal to Miss Roberts? Yes or No?"

  The man winced and made a step backward. There was a gleam in the Rydereye which he knew by experience boded no good.

  "Really, Jefferson," he said in a more conciliatory tone, "I knowabsolutely nothing about the paragraph. This is the first I hear of it.Why not ask your father?"

  "I will," replied Jefferson grimly,

  He was turning to go in the direction of the library when Bagleystopped him.

  "You cannot possibly see him now," he said. "Sergeant Ellison of theSecret Service is in there with him, and your father told me not todisturb him on any account. He has another appointment at three o'clockwith some woman who writes books."

  Seeing that the fellow was in earnest, Jefferson did not insist. Hecould see his father a little later or send him a message through hismother. Proceeding upstairs he found Mrs. Ryder in her room and in afew energetic words he explained the situation to his mother. They hadgone too far with this matchmaking business, he said, his father wastrying to interfere with his personal liberty and he was going to put astop to it. He would leave at once for Europe. Mrs. Ryder had alreadyheard of the projected trip abroad, so the news of this suddendeparture was not the shock it might otherwise have been. In her heartshe did not blame her son, on the contrary she admired his spirit, andif the temporary absence from home would make him happier, she wouldnot hold him back. Yet, mother like, she wept and coaxed, but nothingwould shake Jefferson in his determination and he begged his mother tomake it very plain to his father that this was final and that a fewdays would see him on his way abroad. He would try and come back to seehis father that afternoon, but otherwise she was to say good-bye forhim. Mrs. Ryder promised tearfully to do what her son demanded and afew minutes later Jefferson was on his way to the front door.

  As he went down stairs something white on the carpet attracted hisattention. He stooped and picked it up. It was a letter. It was inBagley's handwriting and had evidently been dropped by the man to whomthe secretary had given it to post. But what interested Jefferson morethan anything else was that it was addressed to Miss Kate Roberts.Under ordinary circumstances, a king's ransom would not have temptedthe young man to read a letter addressed to another, but he wasconvinced that his father's secretary was an adventurer and if he werecarrying on an intrigue in this manner it could have only one meaning.It was his duty to unveil a rascal who was using the Ryder roof andname to further his own ends and victimize a girl who, althoughsophisticated enough to know better, was too silly to realize the riskshe ran at the hands of an unscrupulous man. Hesitating no longer,Jefferson tore open the envelope and read:

  My dearest wife that is to be:

  I have arranged everything. Next Wednesday--just a week from to-day--wewill go to the house of a discreet friend of mine where a minister willmarry us; then we will go to City Hall and get through the legal partof it. Afterwards, we can catch the four o'clock train for Buffalo.Meet me in the ladies' room at the Holland House Wednesday morning at11 a.m. I will come there with a closed cab. Your devoted

  FITZ.

  "Phew!" Jefferson whistled. A close shave this for Senator Roberts, hethought. His first impulse was to go upstairs again to his mother andput the matter in her hands. She would immediately inform his father,who would make short work of Mr. Bagley. But, thought Jefferson, whyshould he spoil a good thing? He could afford to wait a day or two.There was no hurry. He could allow Bagley to think all was goingswimmingly and then uncover the plot at the eleventh hour. He wouldeven let this letter go to Kate, there was no difficulty in procuringanother envelope and imitating the handwriting--and when Bagley wasjust preparing to go to the rendezvous he would spring the trap. Such acad deserved no mercy. The scandal would be a knock-out blow, hisfather would discharge him on the spot and that would be the last theywould see of the aristocratic English secretary. Jefferson put theletter in his pocket and left the house rejoicing.

  While the foregoing incidents were happening John Burkett Ryder wassecluded in his library. The great man had come home earlier thanusual, for he had two important callers to see by appointment thatafternoon. One was Sergeant Ellison, who had to report on his missionto Massapequa; the other was Miss Shirley Green, the author of "TheAmerican Octopus," who had at last deigned to honour him with a visit.Pending the arrival of these visitors the financier was busy with hissecretary trying to get rid as rapidly as possible of what business andcorrespondence there was on hand.

  The plutocrat was sitting at his desk poring over a mass of papers.Between his teeth was the inevitable long black cigar and when heraised his eyes to the light a close observer might have remarked thatthey were sea-green, a colour they assumed when the man of millions wasabsorbed in scheming new business deals. Every now and then he stoppedreading the papers to make quick calculations on scraps of paper. Thenif the result pleased him, a smile overspread his saturnine features.He rose from his chair and nervously paced the floor as he always didwhen thinking deeply.

  "Five millions," he muttered, "not a cent more. If they won't sellwe'll crush them--"

  Mr. Bagley entered. Mr. Ryder looked up quickly.

  "Well, Bagley?" he said interrogatively. "Has Sergeant Ellison come?"

  "Yes, sir. But Mr. Herts is downstairs. He insists on seeing you aboutthe Philadelphia gas deal. He says it is a matter of life and death."

  "To him--yes," answered the financier dryly. "Let him come up. We mightas well have it out now."

  Mr. Bagley went out and returned almost immediately, followed by ashort, fat man, rather loudly dressed and apoplectic in appearance. Helooked like a prosperous brewer, while, as a matter of fact, he waspresident of a gas company, one of the shrewdest promoters in thecountry, and a big man in Wall Street. There was only one bigger manand that was John Ryder. But, to-day, Mr. Herts was not in goodcondition. His face was pale and his manner flustered and nervo
us. Hewas plainly worried.

  "Mr. Ryder," he began with excited gesture, "the terms you offer arepreposterous. It would mean disaster to the stockholders. Our gasproperties are worth six times that amount. We will sell out for twentymillions--not a cent less."

  Ryder shrugged his shoulders.

  "Mr. Herts," he replied coolly, "I am busy to-day and in no mood forarguing. We'll either buy you out or force you out. Choose. You haveour offer. Five millions for your gas property. Will you take it?"

  "We'll see you in hell first!" cried his visitor exasperated.

  "Very well," replied Ryder still unruffled, "all negotiations are off.You leave me free to act. We have an offer to buy cheap the oldGermantown Gas Company which has charter rights to go into any of thestreets of Philadelphia. We shall purchase that company, we will putten millions new capital into it, and reduce the price of gas inPhiladelphia to sixty cents a thousand. Where will you be then?"

  The face of the Colossus as he uttered this stand and deliver speechwas calm and inscrutable. Conscious of the resistless power of hisuntold millions, he felt no more compunction in mercilessly crushingthis business rival than he would in trampling out the life of a worm.The little man facing him looked haggard and distressed. He knew wellthat this was no idle threat. He was well aware that Ryder and hisassociates by the sheer weight of the enormous wealth they controlledcould sell out or destroy any industrial corporation in the land. Itwas plainly illegal, but it was done every day, and his company was notthe first victim nor the last. Desperate, he appealed humbly to thetyrannical Money Power:

  "Don't drive us to the wall, Mr. Ryder. This forced sale will meandisaster to us all. Put yourself in our place--think what it means toscores of families whose only support is the income from theirinvestment in our company."

  "Mr. Herts," replied Ryder unmoved, "I never allow sentiment tointerfere with business. You have heard my terms. I refuse to argue thematter further. What is it to be? Five millions or competition? Decidenow or this interview must end!"

  He took out his watch and with his other hand touched a bell. Beads ofperspiration stood on his visitor's forehead. In a voice broken withsuppressed emotion he said hoarsely:

  "You're a hard, pitiless man, John Ryder! So be it--five millions. Idon't know what they'll say. I don't dare return to them."

  "Those are my terms," said Ryder coldly. "The papers," he added, "willbe ready for your signature to-morrow at this time, and I'll have acheque ready for the entire amount. Good-day."

  Mr. Bagley entered. Ryder bowed to Herts, who slowly retired. When thedoor had closed on him Ryder went back to his desk, a smile of triumphon his face. Then he turned to his secretary:

  "Let Sergeant Ellison come up," he said.

  The secretary left the room and Mr. Ryder sank comfortably in hischair, puffing silently at his long black cigar. The financier wasthinking, but his thoughts concerned neither the luckless gas presidenthe had just pitilessly crushed, nor the detective who had come to makehis report. He was thinking of the book "The American Octopus," and itsbold author whom he was to meet in a very few minutes. He glanced atthe clock. A quarter to three. She would be here in fifteen minutes ifshe were punctual, but women seldom are, he reflected. What kind of awoman could she be, this Shirley Green, to dare cross swords with a manwhose power was felt in two hemispheres? No ordinary woman, that wascertain. He tried to imagine what she looked like, and he pictured atall, gaunt, sexless spinster with spectacles, a sort of nightmare inthe garb of a woman. A sour, discontented creature, bitter to allmankind, owing to disappointments in early life and especiallyvindictive towards the rich, whom her socialistic and evenanarchistical tendencies prompted her to hate and attack. Yet, withal,a brainy, intelligent woman, remarkably well informed as to politicaland industrial conditions--a woman to make a friend of rather than anenemy. And John Ryder, who had educated himself to believe that withgold he could do everything, that none could resist its power, had nodoubt that with money he could enlist this Shirley Green in hisservice. At least it would keep her from writing more books about him.

  The door opened and Sergeant Ellison entered, followed by thesecretary, who almost immediately withdrew.

  "Well, sergeant," said Mr. Ryder cordially, "what have you to tell me?I can give you only a few minutes. I expect a lady friend of yours."

  The plutocrat sometimes condescended to be jocular with hissubordinates.

  "A lady friend of mine, sir?" echoed the man, puzzled.

  "Yes--Miss Shirley Green, the author," replied the financier, enjoyingthe detective's embarrassment. "That suggestion of yours worked out allright. She's coming here to-day."

  "I'm glad you've found her, sir."

  "It was a tough job," answered Ryder with a grimace. "We wrote her halfa dozen times before she was satisfied with the wording of theinvitation. But, finally, we landed her and I expect her at threeo'clock. Now what about that Rossmore girl? Did you go down toMassapequa?"

  "Yes, sir, I have been there half a dozen times. In fact, I've justcome from there. Judge Rossmore is there, all right, but his daughterhas left for parts unknown."

  "Gone away--where?" exclaimed the financier.

  This was what he dreaded. As long as he could keep his eye on the girlthere was little danger of Jefferson making a fool of himself; with herdisappeared everything was possible.

  "I could not find out, sir. Their neighbours don't know much aboutthem. They say they're haughty and stuck up. The only one I could getanything out of was a parson named Deetle. He said it was a sad case,that they had reverses and a daughter who was in Paris--"

  "Yes, yes," said Ryder impatiently, "we know all that. But where's thedaughter now?"

  "Search me, sir. I even tried to pump the Irish slavey. Gee, what avixen! She almost flew at me. She said she didn't know and didn't care."

  Ryder brought his fist down with force on his desk, a trick he had whenhe wished to emphasize a point.

  "Sergeant, I don't like the mysterious disappearance of that girl. Youmust find her, do you hear, you must find her if it takes all thesleuths in the country. Had my son been seen there?"

  "The parson said he saw a young fellow answering his descriptionsitting on the porch of the Rossmore cottage the evening before thegirl disappeared, but he didn't know who he was and hasn't seen himsince."

  "That was my son, I'll wager. He knows where the girl is. Perhaps he'swith her now. Maybe he's going to marry her. That must be prevented atany cost. Sergeant, find that Rossmore girl and I'll give you $1,000."

  The detective's face flushed with pleasure at the prospect of soliberal a reward. Rising he said:

  "I'll find her, sir. I'll find her."

  Mr. Bagley entered, wearing the solemn, important air he alwaysaffected when he had to announce a visitor of consequence. But beforehe could open his mouth Mr. Ryder said:

  "Bagley, when did you see my son, Jefferson, last?"

  "To-day, sir. He wanted to see you to say good-bye. He said he would beback."

  Ryder gave a sigh of relief and addressing the detective said:

  "It's not so bad as I thought." Then turning again to his secretary heasked:

  "Well, Bagley, what is it?"

  "There's a lady downstairs, sir--Miss Shirley Green."

  The financier half sprang from his seat.

  "Oh, yes. Show her up at once. Good-bye, sergeant, good-bye. Find thatRossmore woman and the $1,000 is yours."

  The detective went out and a few moments later Mr. Bagley reappearedushering in Shirley.

  The mouse was in the den of the lion.