CHAPTER X.
EXPLANATIONS WANTED.
When Catlin regained consciousness he was in the house on a divan. Myra Randolph was kneeling beside him, and a man was holding a glass to his lips. Catlin pushed the glass away and sat up.
It was a peculiar scene that met his eyes. Before him were twelve men dressed in red gowns, the hoods pulled up over their heads. They stood in a semicircle, regarding him. On one side was Hargrove, his face discolored and full of wrath, standing with folded arms. Beside him were Donald McHugh and another, the third man of the party. And behind them, still in his Mephistopheles costume, with the exception of the cloak, stood Scott. Catlin remembered—Scott had dashed from the trees to his aid during the fight in the garden.
One of the red-gowned men stepped forward. “I am William Randolph, sir,” he said. “I want to thank you for the aid you have given us. My daughter has told me a part of what you have done. You went to her assistance in a good cause, taking her word for it that it was a good cause; you fought for her, yon even saved her life—”
The man’s voice broke. The hood fell from his head, and Catlin saw a man of perhaps sixty, noble looking, with white hair. “I am glad to have been of service,” Catlin said.
“I regret exceedingly that I am unable to explain to you just what you have done,” Randolph continued. “But I want to assure you that it’ll never be forgotten. I’ll have you taken to a room upstairs and given attention, and in the morning we’ll talk.”
“Perhaps, sir,” replied Catlin, “you may explain without fear. I, too, am a member of the Red Brotherhood.”
“You?” cried Myra Randolph.
“You?” gasped Donald McHugh and William Randolph in a breath.
“Even so—of the Eastern District,” said Catlin. “I have been a member for years, almost since the brotherhood was first organized. If you doubt—” William Randolph bent forward, and Catlin whispered something in his ear.
“I am doubly glad that one of the brothers has done this,” said Randolph, clasping him by the hand.
Catlin fumbled in his pocket. “And here is the seal,” he said, handing it to Randolph.
“The seal!” Randolph cried the words happily. Hargrove turned his back.
“The seal!” Randolph said again. “And it is more than two hours until sunrise. We have ample time.” He turned and motioned to the red-gowned men behind him. They surrounded Hargrove, McHugh, and their companion, and led the way to an adjoining room. Randolph took one of Catlin’s arms and Myra the other, and they followed. Scott walked behind them.
The other room was large, and the shades were fitted to the windows so that no light could show through. At one end of the room was a dais, with a huge chair upon it, and a table beside the chair. Randolph ascended the dais and sat down. Before him were rows of other chairs, and the eleven red-gowned men took their places, and the others sat behind them. Randolph touched a button, and a gong struck.
From the distance came the sound of closing doors. Presently another brother entered and advanced to the dais.
“The sentries are posted, master,” he said, and backed to the door again.
“The council of the Pacific Coast District is in session,” Randolph declared.
Again the gong struck. The brothers adjusted their hoods. Catlin was looking at Donald McHugh, who would not meet his eyes. McHugh’s face was swelling and discolored, and Catlin realized that he had done it. His friend had not had time at the hotel to change clothing; he had torn off the Mephistopheles cloak and drawn on coat and trousers over the remainder of the costume. Now he hung his head, as if ashamed.
“At the rise of the sun this morning a new brotherhood year begins,” Randolph was saying. “At the rise of sun, I, your master, give up my office to another. On this night every year a new vice master is chosen, and of the brotherhood a member is chosen to take seat in the council, so that the number may be maintained when the master becomes past master.”
He paused. “Aye!” cried the brothers, and Catlin joined them.
“Brother Hargrove is vice master of this council,” Randolph went on. “He is a member of many years’ standing, and should know the principles that govern the brotherhood. There are charges against this brother that must be heard now, before the rising of the sun,” Randolph paused again, but Hargrove did not answer. He glared at the master on the dais, and waited.
“The Red Brotherhood was organized fifteen years ago,” he went on. “It is so secret that scarcely anyone outside the membership knows of its existence. The brotherhood works for good. It was founded by a score of earnest, sincere men of wealth who wanted to do all in their power for the worthy ones of humanity. They planned to work in silence, to aid those worthy of aid, to forward those projects that were best for mankind.
“The brotherhood spread, and today we have districts and councils throughout the civilized world. A word is passed from brother to brother, after anyone of the masters has spoken, and some worthy man in despair finds that his enterprise suddenly has become successful. The brotherhood has elected good men to office without letting them know. It has furnished capital for affairs that were on the verge of ruin. It has helped build character. And, as we all know, it has raised its hand against men unworthy and defeated them, though they knew not the reason for their defeat. But the foremost rule and principle has been—no member or members should use the power of the brotherhood to aid himself or themselves.”
He stopped and looked down at Hargrove again, then let his eyes fall to the seal Catlin had helped to rescue; it had been placed in the center of a table at the foot of the dais, where all could see it.
“The master of a council,” he went on, “is supreme in carrying out the orders of that council. An order is written, and the council master, and he only, affixes the seal of the division. A copy of that order, with the seal attached, is sent to the master of every other council, and those masters, by word of mouth, give the order to the local members. The seal, the only thing recognized as power, is always to be in the hands of the master. It is supposed, of course, that he will not use it unworthily.
“Brother Hargrove is vice master of this council, and, following the usual method, he should become master at sunrise this morning, when my term of office expires. Some three months ago it became known to this council that Brother Hargrove was unworthy. He was plotting to use the power of the brotherhood, once he became master of the council, to further his own enterprises. In fact, he had planned a gigantic swindle, and, by affixing the seal of the order to a document, expected to get every member of the brotherhood in the world to aid a project that would pour millions into Brother Hargrove’s safe and bring despair and poverty to countless men and women.
“At first we could scarcely believe that a brother would stoop to such a thing. But the temptation was great, and Brother Hargrove could not resist it. The matter was put before the council, and, after due deliberation and a fair hearing, it decided that Brother Hargrove should be expelled from the order at once, and that he should be made known to every member of the brotherhood as an unworthy man. It was a dreadful sentence, for it meant that thousands of reputable men in all walks of life would shun him thereafter.
“The order of expulsion had but to be written, and the great seal affixed. Before that could be done, Brother Hargrove, by using violence, stole the seal of the order and put it in a hiding place. Without it, the order of expulsion could not be put out. He had but to keep the seal until this morning at sunrise, and at that time, becoming master by virtue of his rank of vice master, and because the expulsion had not been carried out, he could proceed with his unworthy plan.”
There was a sound from Hargrove; but, though Randolph waited, the accused man spoke no word. All in the room were looking at him in scorn, though it was an old story to all except Catlin.
“‘We
tried to regain the seal,” Randolph continued, “but could not. We called upon the entire membership of the local council to help. His office was searched, his safe opened, his safety-deposit box, even, inspected. His apartments at Hotel del Coronado were searched, but to no avail.
“We had reason to believe that the seal was hidden at the hotel. We called in the members of the Women’s Auxiliary to help. Last night, our last night of grace, there was a masquerade at the hotel, and Hargrove was entertaining. It was a chance for masked persons to invade his apartments. He had two members, whom he had won over to his side, to aid him; they knew all our men. But the women might be able to pass unnoticed, so we depended upon the women. One man was to be there, dressed in a certain manner, to aid any of the women who discovered the whereabouts of the seal. Thank heaven, it was recovered. Gentlemen of the council, we have now but to affix the seal to the order of expulsion, and this man Hargrove goes from our midst as unworthy, to be scorned by worthy men and women—and the brotherhood is free of the stain he would have put upon it!”
Hargrove sprang to his feet, his swollen face purple with passion. “Then affix your seal!” he cried. “What do I care if the brotherhood expels me? I entered it fifteen years ago when it was organized—entered it more for a lark than anything else. As it grew, I saw its possibilities. I played you for fools, did your work, seemed to enter heart and soul into that work, and you made me a member of the council. I kept on, until I was vice master, and knew that I would be master at the end of the year. Once master, with that seal in my hands, I could make the brotherhood do my bidding, force its members to help me win a gigantic fortune.
“You got wise—yes! You tried to expel me, and I stole the seal so the order could not be properly signed. I got two men to help me, promising them reward. I laughed as I watched you trying to get the seal back. I knew you had ransacked my office and apartment. And I know what you contemplated doing last night. I knew of the man to be in the devil’s garb. One of my men assumed the same garb, and we tried to outwit you. And this—this stranger, who happened to assume a similar costume, mixed in. I lost! It was a pretty fight, but, I lost! Well, you have your seal—make the most of it!”
He glared around at the others. Donald McHugh, with a cry of anger, sprang to his feet and confronted Hargrove. “You—you!” he cried. “And you lied to me! You told me Randolph wanted to use his power and expel you because you had become aware of something unworthy he contemplated! You convinced me with clever proof. And I joined you because I thought I was fighting for the brotherhood and the right. You crook—you thief!”
“No man can talk to me like that and—”
“I can talk to you like that! You’d make me a scoundrel and an outcast, would you, to further your own devilish schemes?”
He sprang at Hargrove’s throat, and in an instant they were locked in each other’s arms. The brothers sprang forward to separate them; the master left the dais and stepped down, crying his protests. Myra Randolph stepped back to the other end of the room and turned her face away.
There was confusion for a moment, then Hargrove was forced into a chair, and Donald McHugh was led to another, and brothers held them there, apart.
The master went to his chair again. “It is almost sunrise,” he said, taking a document from beneath his robe. “We must choose a vice master to take my office at that hour. But first we must expel this man, the present vice master. The secretary will hand me the seal.” The secretary’s cry startled them:
“The seal! It is gone again!”
CHAPTER XI.
A QUESTION OF MINUTES.
“Gone! The seal—gone!” In the silence that followed this cry, the brothers looked at one another, then Hargrove’s harsh laugh broke in.
“I haven’t lost yet, it seems,” he said. Randolph left the dais again, and stepped down to his daughter’s side. “Please go to your room on the second floor,” he said, “and get on some dry clothing.”
She understood what he meant; there might be a scene which her eyes should not see. So she hurried away, and Randolph raised his hand. The brothers seized Hargrove and subjected him to a close search, but the seal could not be found. Next, they searched Donald McHugh, who made no resistance. McHugh was an object of self-condemnation and despair. The third man of Hargrove’s party, whose name Catlin had not heard, followed McHugh’s lead and made no resistance. Then the room was searched carefully, for it was thought the seal might have been knocked off the table when the brothers rushed to separate Hargrove and McHugh.
“It is gone—gone!” said Randolph.
A search of everyone in the room followed, and still the seal was not found. Randolph went back to the dais, and Hargrove taunted them. “I haven’t lost yet,” he said. “Another hour, and I’ll be master of the council. I’ll make you pay for this then. I’ll use the seal whenever I wish, and the council cannot stop me. Only an expulsion by the grand council, after a long hearing, can stop me, and that would take months and months. I’ve got you—got you!”
“The grand council!” Randolph exclaimed. “We appealed to the grand council, brothers, and received word that they would send the grand secretary to us from New York. He was to bring the grand seal, and if, after an examination, he was convinced we were in the right, he was to sign the order for Hargrove’s expulsion himself.
“Early yesterday morning I received a telephone message from Los Angeles. It was the grand secretary. We do not know him by name, of course, but he gave me the proper countersign. He said he would arrive in San Diego yesterday some time, and I arranged to have an automobile meet him at one o’clock this morning in front of the U.S. Grant Hotel. The automobile is there yet. The brother who was driving it telephoned me twice that the grand secretary had not put in an appearance. It was the only thing that could save us, unless we regained our own seal, and that has failed. Perhaps”—he looked at Hargrove with quick suspicion—“perhaps the grand secretary has been cared for by certain persons—”
“Well, suppose I did ‘care for’ him?” Hargrove sneered. “I’m in this fight to win, remember?”
“If such a man as you can win in such a cause—” Randolph began, then stopped and bent his head on his hands.
The clock on the wall ticked away the minutes. It was half an hour, now, until sunrise. Half an hour more—and Hargrove would be triumphant.
Catlin got up and walked slowly toward the dais. He staggered a bit for he was still weak from the experiences of the night. His wet clothes still clung to him—he had not thought of changing. His face was haggard, but his eyes blazed. “Master,” he said, and bowed low before the dais.
“Brother?”
“I am the grand secretary!” Catlin said.
“You? You?” All in the room took up the cry. Rage was in Hargrove’s face again. Donald McHugh looked up, aghast. Randolph and the brothers crowded forward, around him.
“The questions, master?” he requested.
Randolph put them; Catlin answered them. Then he unbuttoned his shirt at the throat, and the underwear beneath it. In a bag of silk, suspended around his neck by a gold chain, was a round disk. He took it out and held it up.
“The grand seal!” he exclaimed, and the others echoed his cry. “Give me a handle, master. Heat the wax. Prepare the order for the expulsion of this man, and I’ll sign it and affix the grand seal!”
They ran to do his bidding. Hargrove started to get up from his chair, but two of the brothers hurled him back into it and held him there.
“Because I was not to meet your automobile until one o’clock in the morning, I went to the masquerade at Coronado,” Catlin explained. “I did not know the parties to this controversy, of course. I knew only the telephone number of the local master, and could identify him by the countersigns. My orders were to hold an investigation and use the seal if I thought it right. Through an accid
ent, I was drawn into this matter at the ball. I began to suspect the truth in Donald McHugh’s rooms at the Hotel U.S. Grant, when he said I was participating in a controversy between two factions of an organization.
“After Miss Randolph compelled me to aid her, I made up my mind to desert her at Old Town and return to the city, there to a wait the automobile, because I did not want to take sides. I wanted to be fair and honest. But I read truth and sincerity in her manner at Old Town, and gave her my help. She took the seal from the pigeon, and handed it to me, and then I knew for certain that I was playing a part in the trouble. Still, I did not take sides, only helped Miss Randolph, determined to decide against her father if, after an investigation, I believed him to be in the wrong.
“But here in this council room I have heard this man you call Hargrove admit his perfidy. I have heard him boast of what he intended to do. As for your own seal, I took it from the table during the trouble a few minutes ago. I tossed it through the door into the hall, and you’ll find it there, I think, among the rugs in the corner.”
“But why—why?” Randolph gasped.
“Because I want to stamp the order for his expulsion with the grand seal. I want to condemn this man with that instead of with the seal of a local council. There’ll be no question then—and every brother throughout the world will know it is not a mere local matter, but that the grand council itself has acted. Master, the wax!”
Catlin ascended the dais. He picked up a pen, dipped it in the red ink there, and scrawled at the foot of the order the character of his rank. Then he sanded the signature—for writings of the secret brotherhood must never be duplicated, even on a piece of blotting paper, and the fine sand of colonial times was always used—smeared the wax on the corner, pressed the seal upon it, held it there for a moment, and withdrew it.
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