CHAPTER XXXIII
THE FLIGHT OF JONES
Everything seemed like a dream to Brewster as he rushed off through thenight to the office of Grant & Ripley. He was dazed, bewildered, hardlymore than half-conscious. A bitter smile crept about his lips as hedrew away from the street-car track almost as his hand touched the railof a car he had signaled. He remembered that he did not have moneyenough to pay his fare. It was six or seven blocks to the office of thelawyers, and he was actually running before he stopped at the entranceof the big building.
Never had an elevator traveled more slowly than the one which shot himto the seventh floor. A light shone through the transom above theattorneys' door and he entered without so much as a rap on the panel.Grant, who was pacing the floor, came to a standstill and faced hisvisitor.
"Close the door, please," came in steady tones from Ripley. Mr. Grantdropped into a chair and Brewster mechanically slammed the door.
"Is it true?" he demanded hoarsely, his hand still on the knob.
"Sit down, Brewster, and control yourself," said Ripley.
"Good God, man, can't you see I am calm?" cried Monty. "Go on--tell meall about it. What do you know? What have you heard?"
"He cannot be found, that's all," announced Ripley, with deadlyintentness. "I don't know what it means. There is no explanation. Thewhole thing is inconceivable. Sit down and I will tell you everythingas quickly as possible."
"There isn't much to tell," said Grant, mechanically.
"I can take it better standing," declared Brewster, shutting his jawstightly.
"Jones was last seen in Butte on the third of this month," said Ripley."We sent several telegrams to him after that day, asking when heexpected to leave for New York. They never were claimed and thetelegraph company reported that he could not be found. We thought hemight have gone off to look after some of his property and were notuneasy. Finally we began to wonder why he had not wired us on leavingfor the east. I telegraphed him again and got no answer. It dawned uponus that this was something unusual. We wired his secretary and receiveda response from the chief of police. He asked, in turn, if we couldtell him anything about the whereabouts of Jones. This naturallyalarmed us and yesterday we kept the wires hot. The result of ourinquiries is terrible, Mr. Brewster."
"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Brewster.
"There can be no doubt that Jones has fled, accompanied by hissecretary. The belief in Butte is that the secretary has murdered him."
"God!" was the only sound that came from the lips of Brewster.
Ripley moistened his lips and went on
"We have dispatches here from the police, the banks, the trustcompanies and from a half dozen mine managers. You may read them if youlike, but I can tell you what they say. About the first of this monthJones began to turn various securities into money. It is now known thatthey were once the property of James T. Sedgwick, held in trust foryou. The safety deposit vaults were afterward visited and inspectionshows that he removed every scrap of stock, every bond, everything ofvalue that he could lay his hands upon. His own papers and effects werenot disturbed. Yours alone have disappeared. It is this fact thatconvinces the authorities that the secretary has made away with the oldman and has fled with the property. The bank people say that Jones drewout every dollar of the Sedgwick money, and the police say that herealized tremendous sums on the convertible securities. The strangepart of it is that he sold your mines and your real estate, thepurchaser being a man named Golden. Brewster, it--it looks very much asif he had disappeared with everything."
Brewster did not take his eyes from Ripley's face throughout theterrible speech; he did not move a fraction of an inch from the rigidposition assumed at the beginning.
"Is anything being done?" he asked, mechanically.
"The police are investigating. He is known to have started off into themountains with this secretary on the third of September. Neither hasbeen seen since that day, so far as any one knows. The earth seems tohave swallowed them. The authorities are searching the mountains andare making every effort to find Jones or his body. He is known to beeccentric and at first not much importance was attached to his actions.That is all we can tell you at present. There may be developmentsto-morrow. It looks bad--terribly bad. We--we had the utmost confidencein Jones. My God, I wish I could help you, my boy."
"I don't blame you, gentlemen," said Brewster, bravely. "It's just myluck, that's all. Something told me all along that--that it wouldn'tturn out right. I wasn't looking for this kind of end, though. My onlyfear was that--Jones wouldn't consider me worthy to receive thefortune. It never occurred to me that he might prove to be the--theunworthy one."
"I will take you a little farther into our confidence, Brewster," saidGrant, slowly. "Mr. Jones notified us at the beginning that he would begoverned largely in his decision by our opinion of your conduct. Thatis why we felt no hesitation in advising you to continue as you weregoing. While you were off at sea, we had many letters from him, all inthat sarcastic vein of his, but in none of them did he offer a word ofcriticism. He seemed thoroughly satisfied with your methods. In fact,he once said he'd give a million of his own money if it would purchaseyour ability to spend one-fourth of it."
"Well, he can have my experience free of charge. A beggar can't be achooser, you know," said Brewster, bitterly. His color was graduallycoming back. "What do they know about the secretary?" he asked,suddenly, intent and alive.
"He was a new one, I understand, who came to Jones less than a yearago. Jones is said to have had implicit faith in him," said Ripley.
"And he disappeared at the same time?"
"They were last seen together."
"Then he has put an end to Jones!" cried Monty, excitedly. "It is asplain as day to me. Don't you see that he exerted some sort ofinfluence over the old man, inducing him to get all this money togetheron some pretext or other, solely for the purpose of robbing him of thewhole amount? Was ever anything more diabolical?" He began pacing thefloor like an animal, nervously clasping and unclasping his hands. "Wemust catch that secretary! I don't believe Jones was dishonest. He hasbeen duped by a clever scoundrel."
"The strangest circumstance of all, Mr. Brewster, is that no suchperson as Golden, the purchaser of your properties, can be found. He issupposed to reside in Omaha, and it is known that he paid nearly threemillion dollars for the property that now stands in his name. He paidit to Mr. Jones in cash, too, and he paid every cent that the propertyis worth."
"But he must be in existence somewhere," cried Brewster, in perplexity."How the devil could he pay the money if he doesn't exist?"
"I only know that no trace of the man can be found. They know nothingof him in Omaha," said Grant, helplessly.
"So it has finally happened," said Brewster, but his excitement haddropped. "Well," he added, throwing himself into a deep chair, "it wasalways much too strange to be true. Even at the beginning it seemedlike a dream, and now--well, now I am just awake, like the little boyafter the fairy-tale. I seem like a fool to have taken it so seriously."
"There was no other way," protested Ripley, "you were quite right."
"Well, after all," continued Brewster, and the voice was as of one in adream, "perhaps it's as well to have been in Wonderland even if youhave to come down afterward to the ordinary world. I am foolish,perhaps, but even now I would not give it up." Then the thought ofPeggy clutched him by the throat, and he stopped. After a moment hegathered himself together and rose. "Gentlemen," he said sharply, andhis voice had changed; "I have had my fun and this is the end of it.Down underneath I am desperately tired of the whole thing, and I giveyou my word that you will find me a different man to-morrow. I am goingto buckle down to the real thing. I am going to prove that mygrandfather's blood is in me. And I shall come out on top."
Ripley was obviously moved as he replied, "I don't question it for amoment. You are made of the right stuff. I saw that long ago. You maycount on us to-morrow for any amount you need."
Grant en
dorsed the opinion. "I like your spirit, Brewster," he said."There are not many men who would have taken this as well. It's prettyhard on you, too, and it's a miserable wedding gift for your bride."
"We may have important news from Butte in the morning," said Ripley,hopefully; "at any rate, more of the details. The newspapers will havesensational stories no doubt, and we have asked for the latestparticulars direct from the authorities. We'll see that things areproperly investigated. Go home now, my boy, and go to bed. You willbegin to-morrow with good luck on your side and you may be happy allyour life in spite of to-night's depression."
"I'm sure to be happy," said Brewster, simply. "The ceremony takesplace at seven o'clock, gentlemen. I was coming to your office at nineon a little matter of business, but I fancy it won't after all benecessary for me to hurry. I'll drop in before noon, however, and getthat money. By the way, here are the receipts for the money I spentto-night. Will you put them away with the others? I intend to live upto my part of the contract, and it will save me the trouble ofpresenting them regularly in the morning. Good night, gentlemen. I amsorry you were obliged to stay up so late on my account."
He left them bravely enough, but he had more than one moment ofweakness before he could meet his friends. The world seemed unreal andhimself the most unreal thing in it. But the night air acted as astimulant and helped him to call back his courage. When he entered thestudio at one o'clock, he was prepared to redeem his promise to be "thejolliest fellow of them all."
CHAPTER XXXIV
THE LAST WORD
"I'll tell you about it later, dear," was all that Peggy, pleading,could draw from him.
At midnight Mrs. Dan had remonstrated with her. "You must go home,Peggy, dear," she said. "It is disgraceful for you to stay up so late.I went to bed at eight o'clock the night before I was married."
"And fell asleep at four in the morning," smiled Peggy.
"You are quite mistaken, my dear. I did not fall asleep at all. But Iwon't allow you to stop a minute longer. It puts rings under the eyesand sometimes they're red the morning after."
"Oh, you dear, sweet philosopher," cried Peggy; "how wise you are. Doyou think I need a beauty sleep?"
"I don't want you to be a sleepy beauty, that's all," retorted Mrs. Dan.
Upon Monty's return from his trying hour with the lawyers, he had beenbesieged with questions, but he was cleverly evasive. Peggy alone wasinsistent; she had curbed her curiosity until they were on the wayhome, and then she implored him to tell her what had happened. Themisery he had endured was as nothing to his reckoning with the womanwho had the right to expect fair treatment. His duty was clear, but thestrain had been heavy and it was not easy to meet it.
"Peggy, something terrible has happened," he faltered, uncertain of hiscourse.
"Tell me everything, Monty, you can trust me to be brave."
"When I asked you to marry me," he continued gravely, "it was with thethought that I could give you everything to-morrow. I looked for afortune. I never meant that you should marry a pauper."
"I don't understand. You tried to test my love for you?"
"No, child, not that. But I was pledged not to speak of the money Iexpected, and I wanted you so much before it came."
"And it has failed you?" she answered. "I can't see that it changesthings. I expected to marry a pauper, as you call it. Do you think thiscould make a difference?"
"But you don't understand, Peggy. I haven't a penny in the world."
"You hadn't a penny when I accepted you," she replied. "I am notafraid. I believe in you. And if you love me I shall not give you up."
"Dearest!" and the carriage was at the door before another word wasuttered. But Monty called to the coachman to drive just once around theblock.
"Good night, my darling," he said when they reached home. "Sleep tilleight o'clock if you like. There is nothing now in the way of havingthe wedding at nine, instead of at seven. In fact, I have a reason forwanting my whole fortune to come to me then. You will be all that Ihave in the world, child, but I am the happiest man alive."
In his room the strain was relaxed and Brewster faced the bitterreality. Without undressing he threw himself upon the lounge andwondered what the world held for him. It held Peggy at least, hethought, and she was enough. But had he been fair to her? Was he rightin exacting a sacrifice? His tired brain whirled in the effort todecide. Only one thing was clear--that he could not give her up. Thefuture grew black at the very thought of it. With her he could makethings go, but alone it was another matter. He would take the plungeand he would justify it. His mind went traveling back over thegraceless year, and he suddenly realized that he had forfeited theconfidence of men who were worth while. His course in profligacy wouldnot be considered the best training for business. The thought nervedhim to action. He must make good. Peggy had faith in him. She came tohim when everything was against him, and he would slave for her, hewould starve, he would do anything to prove that she was not mistakenin him. She at least should know him for a man.
Looking toward the window he saw the black, uneasy night give way tothe coming day. Haggard and faint he arose from the couch to watch theapproach of the sun that is indifferent to wealth and poverty, togayety and dejection. From far off in the gray light there came thesound of a five o'clock bell. A little later the shrieks of factorywhistles were borne to his ears, muffled by distance but pregnant withthe importance of a new day of toil. They were calling him, with allpoor men, to the sweat-shop and the forge, to the great mill of life.The new era had begun, dawning bright and clear to disperse the gloomin his soul. Leaning against the casement and wondering where he couldearn the first dollar for the Peggy Brewster that was Peggy Gray, herose to meet it with a fine unflinching fearlessness.
Before seven o'clock he was down stairs and waiting. Joe Bragdon joinedhim a bit later, followed by Gardner and the minister. The DeMillesappeared without an invitation, but they were not denied. Mrs. Dansagely shook her head when told that Peggy was still asleep and thatthe ceremony was off till nine o'clock.
"Monty, are you going away?" asked Dan, drawing him into a corner.
"Just a week in the hills," answered Monty, suddenly remembering thegenerosity of his attorneys.
"Come in and see me as soon as you return, old man," said DeMille, andMonty knew that a position would be open to him.
To Mrs. Dan fell the honor of helping Peggy dress. By the time she hadhad coffee and was ready to go down, she was pink with excitement andhad quite forgotten the anxiety which had made the night an age.
She had never been prettier than on her wedding morning. Her color wasrich, her eyes as clear as stars, her woman's body the picture of graceand health. Monty's heart leaped high with love of her.
"The prettiest girl in New York, by Jove," gasped Dan DeMille,clutching Bragdon by the arm.
"And look at Monty! He's become a new man in the last five minutes,"added Joe. "Look at the glow in his cheeks! By the eternal, he'sbeginning to look as he did a year ago."
A clock chimed the hour of nine.
"The man who was here yesterday is in the hall to see Mr. Brewster,"said the maid, a few minutes after the minister had uttered the wordsthat gave Peggy a new name. There was a moment of silence, almost ofdread.
"You mean the fellow with the beard?" asked Monty, uneasily.
"Yes, sir. He sent in this letter, begging you to read it at once."
"Shall I send him away, Monty?" demanded Bragdon, defiantly. "What doeshe mean by coming at this time?"
"I'll read the letter first, Joe."
Every eye was on Brewster as he tore open the envelope. His face wasexpressive. There was wonder in it, then incredulity, then joy. Hethrew the letter to Bragdon, clasped Peggy in his arms spasmodically,and then, releasing her, dashed for the hall like one bereft of reason.
"It's Nopper Harrison!" he cried, and a moment later the tall visitorwas dragged into the circle. "Nopper" was quite overcome by theheartiness of his welcome.
"Y
ou are an angel, Nopper, God bless you!" said Monty, with convincingemphasis. "Joe, read that letter aloud and then advertise for thereturn of those Boston terriers!"
Bragdon's hands trembled and his voice was not sure as he translatedthe scrawl, "Nopper" Harrison standing behind him for the gleefulpurpose of prompting him when the writing was beyond the range of humanintelligence:
HOLLAND HOUSE, Sept. 23, 19--
"MR. MONTGOMERY BREWSTER,
"My Dear Boy:
"So you thought I had given you the slip, eh? Didn't think I'd show uphere and do my part? Well, I don't blame you; I suppose I've acted likea damned idiot, but so long as it turns out O.K. there's no harm done.The wolf won't gnaw very much of a hole in your door, I reckon. Thisletter introduces my secretary, Mr. Oliver Harrison. He came to me lastJune, out in Butte, with the prospectus of a claim he had staked out upin the mountains. What he wanted was backing and he had such a goodshow to win out that I went into cahoots with him. He's got a mine upthere that is dead sure to yield millions. Seems as though he has togive you half of the yield, though. Says you grub-staked him. Goodfellow, this Harrison. Needed a secretary and man of affairs, so tookhim into my office. You can see that he did not take me up into themountains to murder me, as the papers say this morning. Damned rot.Nobody's business but my own if I concluded to come east withouttelling everybody in Butte about it.
"I am here and so is the money. Got in last night. Harrison came fromChicago a day ahead of me. I went to the office of G. & R. at eightthis morning. Found them in a hell of a stew. Thought I'd skipped outor been murdered. Money all gone, everything gone to smash. That's whatthey thought. Don't blame 'em much. You see it was this way: Iconcluded to follow out the terms of the will and deliver the goods inperson. I got together all of Jim Sedgwick's stuff and did a lot ofother fool things, I suppose, and hiked on to New York. You'll findabout seven million dollars' worth of stuff to your credit when youendorse the certified checks down at Grant & Ripley's, my boy. It's allhere and in the banks.
"It's a mighty decent sort of wedding gift, I reckon.
"The lawyers told me all about you. Told me all about last night, andthat you were going to be married this morning. By this time you'recomparatively happy with the bride, I guess. I looked over your reportand took a few peeps at the receipts. They're all right. I'm satisfied.The money is yours. Then I got to thinking that maybe you wouldn't careto come down at nine o'clock, especially as you are just recoveringfrom the joy of being married, so I settled with the lawyers andthey'll settle with you. If you have nothing in particular to do thisafternoon about two o'clock, I'd suggest that you come to the hotel andwe'll dispose of a few formalities that the law requires of us. And youcan give me some lessons in spending money. I've got a little I'd liketo miss some morning. As for your ability as a business man, I havethis to say: Any man who can spend a million a year and have nothing toshow for it, don't need a recommendation from anybody. He's in a classby himself, and it's a business that no one else can give him a pointerabout. The best test of your real capacity, my boy, is the way youlisted your property for taxation. It's a true sign of businesssagacity. That would have decided me in your favor if everything elsehad been against you.
"I'm sorry you've been worried about all this. You have gone through agood deal in a year and you have been roasted from Hades to breakfastby everybody. Now it's your turn to laugh. It will surprise them toread the 'extras' to-day. I've done my duty to you in more ways thanone. I've got myself interviewed by the newspapers and to-day they'llprint the whole truth about Montgomery Brewster and his millions.They've got the Sedgwick will and my story and the old town will boilwith excitement. I guess you'll be squared before the world, all right.You'd better stay indoors for awhile though, if you want to have aquiet honeymoon.
"I don't like New York. Never did. Am going back to Butte to-night. Outthere we have real skyscrapers and they are not built of brick. Theyare two or three miles high and they have gold in 'em. There is realgrass in the lowlands and we have valleys that make Central Park looklike a half inch of nothing. Probably you and Mrs. Brewster were goingto take a wedding trip, so why not go west with me in my car? We startat 7:45 P.M. and I won't bother you. Then you can take it anywhere youlike.
"Sincerely yours,
"SWEARENGEN JONES.
"P.S. I forgot to say there is no such man as Golden. I bought yourmines and ranches with my own money. You may buy them back at the samefigures. I'd advise you to do it. They'll be worth twice as much in ayear. I hope you'll forgive the whims of an old man who has liked youfrom the start.
J."
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