CHAPTER XXIV
A HIDDEN SAFE DEPOSIT
Upon reaching the New York railway station, Adrian had stopped longenough to send his mother an explanatory telegram, so that she mightnot worry over his sudden disappearance. He had also urged her in it,to "make a good visit, since he would be at home to look after hisfather."
In this new consideration for the feelings of others he was nowthankful that Mrs. Wadislaw was away. "She gets so anxious andfrightened over father's 'spells,' though he always comes out of themwell," he reflected; then did what he remembered to have seen her doon similar occasions. He helped his father to the lounge, loosened hiscollar, bathed his head, and administered a few drops of a restorativekept near at hand.
In a few moments the banker sat up again and remarked:
"It is queer that no doctor can stop these attacks. I never quite loseconsciousness, or rather I seem to be somebody else. I have an impulseto do things I would not do at other times--yet what these things areI do not clearly remember when the attack passes. But I always feelbetter for some days after them. For that reason I do not dread themas I would, otherwise. Strange, that a man has to lose his senses inorder to regain them! A paradox, but a fact."
"Do you have them as often as formerly?"
"Oftener, I think. They are irregular. I may feel one coming on againwithin a few hours or it may not be for weeks. The trouble is that Imay be stricken some time more severely and fall senseless in someunsafe place."
"Don't fear about that, father. I am at home again, you know, andshall keep you well in sight. If you would only give up business andgo away to Europe, or somewhere. Take a long rest. You might recoverentirely then and enjoy a ripe old age."
"I can't afford it, lad. If those stolen bonds--but what's the use ofrecalling them? Your talk has brought my loss so freshly before me. Iwish you hadn't asked me about it. However, it's done, and it's late.Let's get to bed. I must be early at the bank, to-morrow. The buildersare coming to look things over and estimate on the cost of safedeposit vaults in the basement. Ours is one of the oldest buildings inthe city and every inch of space has increased in value since it wasput up. The waste room of that basement should bring us in a princelyincome, if the inspector will give the permit to construct the vaults.My head must be clear in the morning, if ever, and I must rest now.Good-night."
Adrian saw his father to his room and sought his own, resolving to bepresent at the next day's interview with the builders, and to givethe banker his own most watchful care. But his thoughts soon returnedto the startling knowledge he had gained concerning Margot's history,and when he fell asleep, at last, it was to dream of a prison on anisland, of his mother in a cell, and other most distressing scenes. Sothat he awoke unrefreshed, and in greater perplexity than ever as tohow he could find Margot or be of any help to Number 526.
But Mr. Wadislaw seemed brighter than usual, and was almost jovial inhis discussion of the proposed alterations of his property.
"You will be a rich man, Adrian, a very rich man, as I figure it.Money is the main thing. Get money and--and--keep it;" he added with acautious glance around the breakfast room.
But there was nobody except the old butler to hear this worldly adviceand he had always been hearing it. Adrian, to whom it was given, heardit not at all. He was thinking of his island friends and wondering howhe should find them. However, when they reached the bank, he ralliedhis wandering thoughts and gave strict attention to the talk betweenthe banker and the builders, trying to impress upon his mind the dryfacts and figures which meant so much to them.
"You say that this wall will have to be torn down. To reach bottomrock. Why, sir, that wall has stood--Adrian, what is that racket inthe outer office? Stop it. The porter should not allow---- But, sir,that wall is as thick as the safe built into it. I mean----"
Mr. Wadislaw passed his hand across his forehead and Adrian, seeingthis familiar sign of impending trouble, felt that his place was athis father's side rather than in quelling that slight disturbance inthe adjoining room. He took his stand behind the banker's chair andrested his hand upon it.
Mr. Wadislaw cast a hurried, appealing glance upward, and the sonsmiled and nodded. The contractor moved about the place, tapping thewalls, the floor, and the great chimney beside the safe; pausing atthis spot and listening, tapping afresh, listening again, with amarked interest growing in his face.
But nobody noticed this, for, suddenly, the door slid open and therestood in the aperture a girl with wonderful, flowing hair and a facestrangely stern and defiant.
"Margot!"
But it was not at Adrian she looked. At last she was in the presenceof the man who had ruined her father. And--he knew her! Aye, knew her,though they two had never met before and, as yet, she had spoken noaccusing word. For he had sunk back in his seat, his face white, hiseyes staring, his jaw dropped. To him she was an apparition, one risenfrom the dead to confront him with the darkest hour of all his past,when a broken-hearted wife had kneeled to him, begging her husband'slife. Yet it was broad daylight and he wide awake.
"Are you Malachi Wadislaw?"
"I--I--thought you were dead!"
"No, not dead. Alive and come at last to make you right the wrong youdid my father. To make you open his prison doors and set him free."
"Are you Philip Romeyn's wife? Her hair--his eyes--I--I--amconfused--Adrian!"
"Yes, father. I am here. Margot!"
Her glance passed from the father to the son but there was norelenting kindness in it. When the young suffer it is profoundly, andthe inmost depths of Margot's nature were stirred by this first sightof her father's enemy.
"Philip Romeyn's wife lies in the grave, whither your persecution senther. I am her daughter and his, come to make you do a tardy justice.To make you lead me to the place where you have hidden the bonds, thegold, you said he stole! For if stealing was done it was by your ownhands, not his."
"Margot--MARGOT! This is my father!" cried Adrian, aghast.
"Yes, Adrian, and my father--my father--wears a convict's garb thisday because of yours!"
"No, no! No, no. I tried to save him, but he would not save himself! Ibegged him, almost on my knees I begged him, the little shaver, toconfess and get the benefit of that. But he would not. There was nohope for him from the beginning. None. They found me all but dead. Themoney gone. He by me, the steel rod in his hand with which we used tofasten the--that very safe. I---- Why, I can see it all as if it wereto-day, even though they lifted me for dead, and found him standing,dazed and speechless. When they questioned him about the money hesaid: 'Ask Malachi Wadislaw. I never touched it.' That was all. Butthey proved it against him. I was dead--almost--and I was beggared.Beggared!" his voice rose to a scream, "by that brave little shaverwho had once--once saved my life. Robbed and murdered--his benefactor,who had made him rich and prosperous. Should he not suffer? Aye,forever!"
The silence that followed this speech was intense. The builder ceasedhis inquisitive tapping and listened spellbound. Old Joe stood rigidlybehind the girl whom he had followed. Adrian scarcely breathed.Accused and accuser faced one another, motionless.
Then: "Where--was--it?" demanded Margot. "Show me--the place."
"Here. Here, in this very sanctum to which nobody had the entrance butus two. There--is the monster safe that was robbed. With such anotherrod of steel"--he pointed to a bar resting above the safe--"was Istruck--here." His hand touched for an instant a deep scar on histemple and an involuntary shudder passed over the girl's frame.
But her face did not change nor the defiance of her eyes grow less.She moved a step forward, and, as if to make way for her, the builder,also, stepped aside. As he did so his hammer caught upon the littleledge of the chimney projection which he had been testing and whosehollow sound had aroused his curiosity. The small slab of marbleslipped and fell, though it had seemingly been securely plastered inthe wall. It left an aperture of a few inches, and the contractorejaculated:
"Pshaw! That's queer. Must have b
een loose, I never saw just such ahole in such a place. I'm sorry, sir, yet----" He turned to addressthe banker but paused, amazed. What had he done?
The effect of that trivial accident upon the owner of the building wasmarvelous. He sprang to his feet, clasped his head with his hands, andgazed upon that tiny opening with the fascination of horror. For amoment it seemed as if his staring eyes would start from their socketsand he gasped in his effort to breathe.
"Father! What is it? What ails you?"
But the distraught man tossed off his son's arm like one who neededno support, and to whom each second of delay was unendurable.
"Look, look! What they told me--I believed--look, look!" then heswayed and Adrian caught him.
But Margot's anxious love leaped to a swift comprehension of whatmerely amazed the others.
"That hole! The bonds--the bonds are in that hole! That's what hemeans. Look, look!"
Incredulous, but impelled by her insistence, the builder peered intothe opening. It was too small to admit his head and his gaze couldpass no further than its opposite side.
"There's nothing there, miss, but a hole, as he said."
She tossed him aside, not noticing, and thrust her arm down as far asit would reach.
"A stick, a string, something--quick! It is deep."
Nobody moved, till she turned upon the Indian.
"For the master, Joe! a string and a weight. Quick, quick!"
The empty-handed son of the forest was the man who filled her need. Anew, well-leaded fishing line that had caught his fancy, passing downthe street, came from his pocket. She seized, uncoiled, and dropped itdown the hole.
"Oh! it is so deep. But we must get to the bottom. We must, even if Itear that wall down with my own hands. You'll help me, Joe, dear Joe,won't you? For the master?"
He moved forward, instantly, but Adrian interposed. He was colorlesswith excitement yet his voice had the ring of hope and expectation, ashe bent and looked into Malachi Wadislaw's eyes.
"Is she right, father? Do you hear me? Is there anything in that smallplace?"
"I remember--I remember. The bonds. The bonds are safe. Always--alwayskeep your money in a hidden----"
"God forbid!" groaned the lad. Then to the builder, "Get your men.Tear down that wall. Quick. A man's life is at stake, or more thanlife--his honor."
The contractor hesitated, then remarked:
"Well, it won't weaken the building, as I see; and we had decided onthe work. It would have to come down anyway."
He stepped to the street and summoned a waiting workman. They wereskilled and labored rapidly, with little scattering of dust or mortar,though Margot would not move aside even from that, but gave them roomfor working only, standing with gaze riveted on that deepening shaft.A mere shell of single bricks, plastered and painted as the remainingwall, had hidden it; and its depth was little below the thick-beamedfloor.
At last the workman stood up.
"I think I see the bottom, sir, and there seems to be stuff in it.Would you like to feel, young man?"
"No, no! I! It is I--to me the right--to find them!" cried Margot,flinging herself between, and downward on the floor.
SHE STOOPED AND FLUNG THEM OUT]
"But, Margot, little girl, don't be so sure. It's scarcelyprobable----" began Adrian, compassionately, shrinking from sight ofher bitter disappointment, should disappointment come. Alas! it wouldbe almost as great to him, and whether a glad or sorry one he couldnot yet realize.
"His face! Look at your father's face. That tells the story. The bondsare there, and 'tis Philip Romeyn's daughter shall bring them to thelight."
Indeed, the banker's expression confirmed her faith. Its frenziedeagerness had given place to a satisfied expectation, and a normalcolor tinged his cheeks. But he still watched intently, sayingnothing.
"Catch them, Adrian, catch them! But hold them fast, the horrible,accursed things!"
One after one, stooping, the exultant daughter lifted and flung themout. The folded papers seemingly so worthless but of such value;the little canvas bags of gold; the precious documents and vouchers,hidden from all other men by one unhappy man, in his miserlyaberration. The price of fifteen years of agony and shame. Now,fifteen years to be forgotten, and honor restored.
In that far past Philip Romeyn's story had been simple and it had beentrue. He had been unaccountably anxious and had risen in the night andgone to the bank. He believed that the safe had not been locked,though he had been assured it should be by Mr. Wadislaw, the onlyother person who had a key to it. To his surprise he had found thebanker in his office, but in dire mishap. He was lying on the floor,unconscious, bleeding from a wound upon his temple. The safe was open,empty. The steel bar which, at night, was padlocked upon it for extrasecurity lay on the floor, beside the senseless man. Mr. Romeyn hadpicked this up and was standing with it in his hand, horrified andhalf-stupefied by the shocking affair, when the watchman, discoveringlight and noise, had entered and found them. It was his hasty,accusing voice which started the cry of robbery and murder; and thecircumstances had seemed so aggravated, the circumstantial evidence sostrong, that the judge had imposed the heaviest penalty within hispower. The hypothesis that Mr. Wadislaw had himself put the contentsof the safe away, had even perverted them to his own use; and that hehad injured himself by falling against the sharp corner of the safe'sheavy and open door, had been set aside as too trivial forconsideration.
The hypothesis had been correct, the circumstantial evidenceincorrect; yet in the name of justice, the latter had prevailed.
"Count them! have you counted them, Adrian?"
"Yes, Margot. It is all here. The very sum of which I have so oftenheard. Thank God, that it is found!"
"My father! Come, Joe, we're going to my father."
"And I go with you. In my father's name and to begin his lifelongreparation."
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