The Sword of Damocles: A Story of New York Life

by Anna Katharine Green

  XIX.

  A DAY AT THE BANK.

  "There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will."

  --HAMLET.

  There are days when the whole world seems to smile upon one withoutstint or reservation. Bertram Sylvester wending his way to the bank onthe morning following the reception, was a cheerful sight to behold.Youth, health, hope spake in every lineament of his face and brightenedevery glance of his wide-awake eye. His new life was pleasant to him.Bach, Beethoven and Chopin were scarcely regretted now by the ambitiousassistant cashier of the Madison Bank, with a friend in each of itsdirectors and a something more than that in the popular presidenthimself. Besides he had developed a talent for the business and was inthe confidence of the cashier, a somewhat sickly man who more than oncehad found himself compelled to rely upon the rapidly maturing judgmentof his young associate, in matters oftentimes of the utmost importance.The manner in which Bertram found himself able to respond to thesevarious calls, convinced him that he had been correct in his opinion ofhis own nature, when he informed his uncle that music was his pleasurerather than his necessity.

  Entering the building by way of Pearl Street, he was about to open thedoor leading into the bank proper, when he heard a little piping voiceat his side, and turning, confronted the janitor's baby daughter. Shewas a sweet and interesting child, and with his usual good natureBertram at once stopped to give her a kiss.

  "I likes you," prattled she as he put her down again after lifting herup high over his head, "but I likes de oder one best."

  "I hope the other one duly appreciates your preference," laughed he, andwas again on the point of entering the bank when he felt or thought hefelt a hand laid on his arm. It was the janitor himself this time, aworthy man, greatly trusted in the bank, but possessed of such anextraordinary peculiarity in the way of a pair of protruding eyes, thathis appearance was always attended by a shock.

  "Well, Hopgood, what is it?" cried Bertram, in his cheery tone.

  The janitor drew back and mercifully shifted his gaze from the youngman's face. "Nothing sir; did I stop you? Beg pardon," he continued,half stammering, "I'm dreadful awkward sometimes." And with a nod hesidled off towards his little one whom he confusedly took up in hisarms.

  Now Bertram was sure the man had touched him and that, too, with a veryeager hand, but being late that morning and consequently in somewhat ofa hurry, he did not stop to pursue the matter. Hastening into the Bank,he assisted the teller in opening the safe, that being his especialduty, and was taking out such papers as he himself required, when he wassurprised to catch another sight of those same extraordinary organs ofwhich I have just spoken, peering upon him from the door by which he hadpreviously entered. They vanished as soon as he encountered them, butmore than once during the morning he perceived them looking upon himfrom various quarters of the bank, till he felt himself growingseriously annoyed, and sending for the man, asked him what he meant bythis unusual surveillance. The janitor seemed troubled, flushedpainfully and fixed his eyes in manifest anxiety on the cashier who,engaged in some search of his own, was just handling over the tin boxesthat lined the vault before them. Not till he had seen him shove themback into their place and leave the spot, did he venture upon his reply."I'm sure, sir, I'm very sorry if I have annoyed you, but do you thinkMr. Sylvester will be down at the usual hour?"

  "I know of no reason why he should not," returned Bertram.

  "I have something to say to him when he comes in," stammered the man,evidently taken aback by Bertram's look of surprise. "Will you be kindenough to ring the bell the first moment he seems to be at leisure? Idon't know as it is a matter of any importance but--" He stopped,evidently putting a curb upon himself. "Can I rely on you, sir?"

  "Yes, certainly, I will tell my uncle when he comes in that you want tospeak to him. He will doubtless send for you at once."

  The man looked embarrassed. "Excuse me, sir, but that's just what I'drather you wouldn't do. Mr. Sylvester is always very busy and he mightthink I wished to annoy him about some matters of my own, sir, as indeedI have not been above doing at odd times. If you would ring when hecomes in, that is all I ask."

  Bertram thought this a strange request, but seeing the man so anxious,gave the required promise, and the janitor hurried off. "Curious!"muttered Bertram. "Can anything be wrong?" And he glanced about him withsome curiosity as he went to his desk. But every one was at his post asusual and the countenances of all were equally undisturbed.

  It was a busy morning and in the rush of various matters Bertram forgotthe entire occurrence. But it was presently recalled to him by hearingsome one remark, "Mr. Sylvester is late to-day," and looking up fromsome papers he was considering, he found it was a full hour after thetime at which his uncle was in the habit of appearing. Just then hecaught still another sight of the protruding eyes of Hopgood staring inupon him from the half-opened door at the end of the bank.

  "The fellow's getting impatient," thought he, and experienced a vaguefeeling of uneasiness.

  Another half hour passed. "What can have detained Mr. Sylvester?" criedMr. Wheelock the cashier, hastily approaching Bertram.

  "There is to be an important meeting of the Directors to-day, and someof the gentlemen are already coming in. Mr. Sylvester is not accustomedto keep us waiting."

  "I don't know, I am sure," returned Bertram, remembering with anaccession of uneasiness, the abruptness with which his uncle had leftthe entertainment the evening before.

  "Shall I telegraph to the house?"

  "No, that is not necessary. Besides Folger says he passed him onBroadway this morning."

  "Going down street with a valise in his hand," that gentlemen quietlyput in. Folger was the teller. "He was looking very pale and didn't seeme when I nodded."

  "What time was that?" asked Bertram.

  "About twelve; when I went out to lunch."

  A quick gasp sounded at their side, followed by a hurried cough.Turning, Bertram encountered for the fifth time the eyes of Hopgood. Hehad entered unperceived by the small door that separated the innerinclosure from the outer, and was now standing very close to them, eyingwith side-long looks the safe at their back, the faces of the gentlemanspeaking, yes, and even the countenances of the clerks, as they bentbusily over their books.

  "Did you ring, sir?" asked he, catching Bertram's look of displeasure.

  "No."

  The man seemed to feel the rebuke implied in this short response, andambled softly away. But in another moment he was stopped by Bertram.

  "What is the matter with you to-day, Hopgood? Can you have anything ofreal importance on your mind; anything connected with my uncle?"

  The janitor started, and looked almost frightened. "Be careful what yousay," whispered he; then with a keen look at Mr. Wheelock just then onthe point of entering the directors' room, he was turning to escape bythe little door just mentioned, when it opened and Mr. Stuyvesant camein. With a look almost of terror the janitor recoiled, throwing himselfas it were between the latter and the door of the safe; but recoveringhimself, surveyed the keen quiet visage of the veteran banker with arolling of his great eyes absolutely painful to behold. Mr. Stuyvesant,who was somewhat absorbed in thought, did not appear to notice theagitation he had caused, and with just a hurried nod followed Mr.Wheelock into the Directors' room. Instantly the janitor drew himself upwith an air of relief, and shortly glancing at the clock which lacked afew minutes yet of the time fixed for the meeting, slided hastily awayfrom Bertram's detaining hand, and disappeared in the crowd without. Inanother moment Bertram saw him standing at the outer door, lookinganxiously up and down the street.

  "Something _is_ wrong," murmured Bertram. "What?" And for a moment hefelt half tempted to return Mr. Stuyvesant's friendly bow with a fewwords expressive of his uneasiness, but the emphasis with which Hopgoodhad murmured the words, "Be careful what you say," unconsciouslydeterred him, and concealing his nervousness as best he might, heentered the Directors' office.
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  It was now time for the meeting to open, and the gentlemen were allseated around the low green baize table that occupied the centre of theroom. Impatience was written on all their countenances. Mr. Stuyvesantespecially was looking at the heavy gold watch in his hand, with a frownon his deeply wrinkled brow that did not add to its expression ofbenevolence. The empty seat at the head of the table stared upon Bertramuncompromisingly.

  "My wife gives a reception to-day," ventured one gentleman to hisneighbor.

  "And I have an engagement at five that won't bear postponement."

  "Sylvester has always been on hand before."

  "We can't proceed without him," was the reply.

  Mr. Wheelock looked thoughtful.

  With a nod of his head towards such gentlemen as met his eye, Bertramhastened to a little cupboard devoted to the use of himself and uncle.Opening it, he looked within, took down a coat he saw hanging beforehim, and unconsciously uttered an exclamation. It was a dress-coat suchas had been worn by Mr. Sylvester the evening before.

  "What does this mean! My uncle has been here!" were the words thatsprang to his lips; but he subdued his impulse to speak, and hastilyhanging up the coat, relocked the door. Proceeding at once to the outerroom, he asked two or three of the clerks if they were sure Mr.Sylvester had not been in during the day. But they all returned anunequivocal "no," and that too with a certain stare of surprise that atonce convinced him he was betraying his agitation too plainly.

  "I will telegraph whether Wheelock considers it necessary or not,"thought he, and was moving to summon a messenger boy when he caughtsight of Hopgood slowly making his way in from the street. He was verypale and walked with his eyes fixed on the ground, ominously shaking hisgreat head in a way that bespoke an inner struggle of no ordinarynature. Bertram at once sauntered out to meet him.

  "Hopgood," said he, "your evident anxiety is infectious. What hashappened to make my uncle's detention a matter of such apparent import?If you do not wish to confide in me, his nephew almost his son, speak toMr. Wheelock or to one of the directors, but don't keep anything toyourself which concerns his welfare or--What are you looking at?"

  The man was gazing as if fascinated at the keys in Bertram's hand.

  "Nothing sir, nothing. You must not detain me; I have nothing to say. Iwill wait ten minutes," he muttered to himself, glancing again at theclock. Suddenly he saw the various directors come filing out of theinner room, and darted for the second time from Bertram's detaininghand.

  "I hope nothing has happened to Mr. Sylvester," exclaimed one gentlemanto another as they filed by.

  "If he were given to a loose ends' sort of business it would be anotherthing."

  "He looked exceedingly well at the reception last night," exclaimedanother; "but in these days--"

  Suddenly there was a hush. A telegraph boy had just entered the door andwas asking for Mr. Bertram Sylvester.

  "Here I am," said Bertram, hastily taking the envelope presented him.Slightly turning his back, he opened it. Instantly his face grew whiteas chalk.

  "Gentlemen," said he, "you will have to excuse my uncle to-day; a greatmisfortune has occurred to him." Then with a slow and horror-strickenmovement, he looked about him and exclaimed, "_Mrs. Sylvester is dead_."

  A confused murmur at once arose, followed by a hurried rush; but of allthe faces that flocked out of the bank, none wore such a look of blankand helpless astonishment as that of Hopgood the janitor, as withbulging eyes and nervously working hands, he slowly wended his way tothe foot of the stairs and there sat down gazing into vacancy.