CHAPTER XXVII
A MEETING BETWEEN GENTLEMEN
"Hello, Wheaton," said Margrave cheerfully. "I've had the devil's owntime finding you."
He advanced upon Wheaton and shook him warmly by the hand. Then, thishaving been for the benefit of the watchman, he said, in a low tone:
"Let's go into the directors' room, Jim, I want to see you."
The main bank room was only dimly lighted, but a cluster of electriclights burned brilliantly above the directors' mahogany table, aroundwhich were chairs of the Bank of England pattern.
"Have a seat, Mr. Margrave," said Wheaton formally. He had left the dooropen, but Margrave closed it carefully. Porter's bundle of papers in itsmanila wrapper lay on the table, and Wheaton sat down close to it.
"What you got there, greenbacks?" asked Margrave. "If you were justleaving for Canada, don't miss the train on my account."
"That isn't funny," said Wheaton, severely.
"Oh, I wouldn't be so damned sensitive," said Margrave, throwing openhis overcoat and placing his hat on the table in front of him. "I guessyou ain't any better than some of the rest of 'em."
"I suppose you didn't come to say that," said Wheaton. He ran hisfingers over the wax seal on the packet. He wished that it were back inPorter's box.
"We were having a little talk this afternoon, Jim," began Margrave in afriendly and familiar tone, "about Traction matters. As I remember it,in our last talk, it was understood that if I needed your little bunchof Traction shares you'd let me have 'em when the time came. Now ourfriend Porter's sick," continued Margrave, watching Wheaton sharply withhis small, keen eyes.
"Yes; he's sick," repeated Wheaton.
"He's pretty damned sick."
"I suppose you mean he is very sick; I don't know that it's so serious.I was at the house this evening."
"Comforting the daughter, no doubt," with a sneer. "Now, Jim, I'm goingto say something to you and I don't want you to give back any prayermeeting talk. The chances are that Porter's going to die." He waited amoment to let the remark sink into Wheaton's consciousness, and then hewent on: "I guess he won't be able to vote his stock to-morrow. Isuppose you've got it or know where it is." He eyed the bundle on whichWheaton's hand at that moment rested nervously, and Wheaton sat back inhis chair and thrust his hand into his trousers' pockets, lookingunconcernedly at Margrave.
"I want that stock, Jim," said the railroader, quietly, "and I want youto give it to me to-night."
"Margrave," said Wheaton, and it was the first time he had so addressedhim, "you must be crazy, or a fool."
"Things are going pretty well with you, Jim," Margrave continued, as ifin friendly canvass of Wheaton's future. "You have a good position here;when the old man's out of the way, you can marry the girl and bepresident of the bank. It's dead easy for a smart fellow like you. Itwould be too bad for you to spoil such prospects right now, when thegame is all in your own hands, by failing to help a friend in trouble."Wheaton said nothing and Margrave resumed:
"You're trying to catch on to this damned society business here, and Iwant you to do it. I haven't got any objections to your sailing as highas you can. I know all about you. I gave you your first job when youcame here--"
"I appreciate all that, Mr. Margrave," Wheaton broke in. "You said theword that got me into the Clarkson National, and I have never forgottenit."
"Well, I don't want you to forget it. But see here: as long as Irecommended you and stood by you when you were a ratty little trainbutcher, and without knowing anything about you except that you werealways on hand and kept your mouth shut, I think you owe something tome." He bent forward in his chair, which creaked under him as he shiftedhis bulk. "One night last fall, just before the Knights of Midas show, adrunken scamp came into my yard, and made a nasty row. I was about toturn him over to the police when he began whimpering and said he knewyou. He wasn't doing any particular harm and I gave him a quarter andtold him to get out; but he wanted to talk. He said--" Margrave droppedhis voice and fastened his eyes on Wheaton--"he was a long-lost brotherof yours. He was pretty drunk, but he seemed clear on your familyhistory, Jim. He said he'd done time once back in Illinois, and got youout of a scrape. He told me his name was William Wheaton, but that hehad lost it in the shuffle somewhere and was known as Snyder. I gave hima quarter and started him toward Porter's where I knew you were doingthe society act. I heard afterward that he found you."
Margrave creaked back in his chair and chuckled.
"He was an infernal liar," said Wheaton hotly. "And so you sent thatscamp over there to make a row. I didn't think you would play me a tricklike that." He was betrayed out of his usual calm control and his mouthtwitched.
"Now, Jim," Margrave continued magnanimously, "I don't care a damn aboutyour family connections. You're all right. You're good enough for me,you understand, and you're good enough for the Porters. My father was abutcher and I began life sweeping out the shop, and I guess everybodyknows it; and if they don't like it, they know what they can do."
Wheaton's hand rested again on the packet before him; he had flushed tothe temples, but the color slowly died out of his face. It was verystill in the room, and the watchman could be heard walking across thetiled lobby outside. A patrol wagon rattled in the street with a greatclang of its gong. Wheaton had moved the brown parcel a little nearer tothe edge of the table; Margrave noticed this and for the first time tooka serious interest in the packet. He was not built for quick evolutions,but he made what was, for a man of his bulk, a sudden movement aroundthe table toward Wheaton, who was between him and the door.
"What you got in that paper, Jim?" he asked, puffing from his exertion.
Still Wheaton did not speak, but he picked up the parcel and took a steptoward the door, Margrave advancing upon him.
Wheaton reached the door, holding the package under his arm.
"Don't touch me; don't touch me," he said, hoarsely. Margrave still cametoward him. Wheaton's unengaged hand went nervously to his throat, andhe fumbled at his tie. The sweat came out on his forehead. It was acurious scene, the tall, dark man in his evening clothes, pitiful in hisagitation, with his back against the door, hugging the bundle under onearm; and Margrave, in his rough business suit, walking slowly towardWheaton, who retreated before him.
"I want that package, Jim."
"Go away! go away!" The sweat shone on Wheaton's forehead in greatdrops. "I can't, I can't--you know I can't!"
"You damned coward!" said Margrave, laughing suddenly. "I want thatbundle." He made a gesture and Wheaton dodged and shrank away. Margravelaughed again; a malicious mirth possessed him. But he grew suddenlyfierce and his fat fingers closed about Wheaton's neck. Wheaton huddledagainst the door, holding the brown packet with both hands.
"Drop it! Drop it!" blurted Margrave. He was breathing hard.
A sharp knock at the door against which they struggled caused Margraveto spring away. He walked down the room several paces with an assumptionof carelessness, and Wheaton, with the bundle still under his arm,turned the knob of the door.
"Hello, Wheaton!" called Fenton, blinking in the glare of the lights.
"Good evening," said Wheaton.
"How're you, Fenton," said Margrave, carelessly, but mopping hisforehead with his handkerchief.
"Here are your papers," said Wheaton, almost thrusting his parcel intothe lawyer's hands.
"All right," said Fenton, looking curiously from one to the other. Andthen he glanced at the package, as if absent-mindedly, and saw that theseal was unbroken.
"Good night, gentlemen," he said. "Sorry to have disturbed you."
"Hope you're not going to work to-night," said Margrave, solicitously.
"Oh, not very long," said the lawyer.
"Hard on honest men when lawyers work at night," continued Margrave, asthe lawyer walked across the lobby.
"Yes, you railroad people can say that," Fenton flung back at him.
"How much Traction was in that package?" asked Margrave, clo
sing thedoor.
"I don't know," said Wheaton, smoothing his tie. The watchman could beheard closing the outside door on Fenton.
"No, I don't think you do," returned Margrave. "You'd fixed it prettywell with Fenton. If he'd only been a minute later I'd have got thatbundle. I didn't realize at first what you had there, Jim, until youkept fingering it so desperately."
"Now," he said amiably, as if the real business of the evening had justbeen reached, "there are those shares you own, Jim. I hope we won't beinterrupted while you're getting them for me."
Wheaton hesitated.
"You get them for me," said Margrave with a change of manner, "quick!"
Wheaton still hesitated.
Margrave picked up his hat.
"I'm going from here to the _Gazette_ office. You know they do what Itell 'em over there. They'd like a little story about the aristocraticWheaton family of Ohio. Porter's girl would like that for breakfastto-morrow morning."
Wheaton hung between two inclinations, one to make terms with Margraveand assure his friendship at any hazard, the other to break with him,let the consequences be what they might. It is one of the impressivefacts of human destiny that the frail barks among us are those which aresent into the least known seas. Great mariners have made charts and setwarning lights, but the hidden reefs change hourly, and the greatchartographer Experience cannot keep pace with them.
"Hurry up," said Margrave impatiently; "this is my busy night and Ican't wait on you. Dig it up."
Wheaton's hand went slowly to his pocket. As he drew out his owncertificate with nervous fingers, the certificate which Evelyn Porterhad given him an hour before fell upon the table.
"That's the right color," said Margrave, snatching the paper as Wheatonsprang forward to regain it.
"Not that! not that! That isn't mine!"
Margrave stepped back and swept the face of the certificate with hiseyes.
"Well, this does beat hell! I knew you stood next, Jim," he saidinsolently, "but I didn't know that you were on such confidential termsas all this. And you witnessed the signature. Gosh! How sweet and prettyit all is!" The paper exhaled the faint odor of sachet, and Margravelifted it to his nostrils with a mockery of delight.
"I must have that, Margrave. I will do anything, but I must havethat---- You wouldn't----"
Margrave watched him maliciously, thoroughly enjoying his terror.
"How do you know I wouldn't? Give me the other one, Jim."
Still Wheaton held his own certificate; he believed for a moment that hecould trade the one for the other.
"I'm not going to fool with you much longer, Jim; you either give methat certificate or I go to the _Gazette_ office as straight as I canwalk. Just sign it in blank, the way the other one is. I'll witness itall right."
Wheaton wrote while Margrave stood over him, holding ready a blotterwhich he applied to Wheaton's signature with unnecessary care.
"I hope this won't cause you any inconvenience with the lady, but you'reundoubtedly a fair liar and you can fix that all right,particularly"--with a chuckle--"if the old man cashes in."
Wheaton followed Margrave's movements as if under a spell that he couldnot shake off. Margrave walked toward the door with an air ofnonchalance, pulling on his gloves.
"I haven't my check-book with me, Jim, but I'll settle for your stockand Miss Evelyn's, too, after I get things reorganized. It'll be worthmore money then. Please give the young lady my compliments," withirritating suavity. He stopped, smoothing the backs of his glovesplacidly. "That's all right, Jim, ain't it?" he asked mockingly.
"I hope you're satisfied," said Wheaton weakly. Twice, within a year, hehad felt the fingers of an angry man at his throat and he did not relishthe experience.
"I'm never satisfied," said Margrave, picking up his hat.
Wheaton wished to make a bargain with him, to assure his own immunity;but he did not know how to accomplish it. Margrave had threatened him,and he wished to dull the point of the threat, but he was afraid to aska promise of him. He said, as Margrave opened the door to go out:
"Do you think Fenton noticed anything?" His tone was so pitiful in itseagerness that Margrave laughed in his face.
"I don't know, Jim, and I don't give a damn."
Wheaton did not follow him to the door, but Margrave seemed in no hurryto leave. The watchman went forward to let him out at the side entrance,and Margrave paused to light a cigar very deliberately and to urge oneon the watchman.
"If he'd only been sure the old man would have died to-night," hereflected as he walked up the street, "he'd have given me Porter'sshares, easy." He went to his office, entertaining himself with thispleasant speculation. "If I'd got out of the bank with that package he'dnever dared squeal," he presently concluded.
Timothy Margrave was a fair judge of character.
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