Читать книгу The Marryers - Irving Bacheller - Страница 5

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IT had been a misty morning, with slush in the streets. For hours the great fog-siren had been bellowing to the ships on the sound and breaking into every conversation. “Go slow and keep away!” it screeched, in a kind of mechanical hysterics.

I was sitting at my desk when Norris's pirate came in. I didn't like the look of him, for I saw at once that he was hard wood, and that he wouldn't whittle. He was a sleek, handsome, well-dressed man of middle age, with gray eyes, iron-gray hair and mustache, the latter close-cropped. Here, then, was Wilton—a man of catlike neatness from top to toe. He stepped softly like a cat. Then he began smoothing his fur—neatly folded his coat and carefully laid it over the back of a chair; blew a speck of dust from his hat, and tenderly flicked its brim with his handkerchief and placed it with gentle precision on the top of the coat. It's curious how the habit of taking care gets into the character of a gentleman thief. He almost purred when he said “Good morning.” Then he seemed to smell the dog, and stopped and took in his surroundings. His hands were small and bony; he felt his necktie, adjusted his cuffs with an outward thrust of both arms, and sat down. Without a word more he handed me the note from Norris, and I read it.

“Yes,” I said; “Mr. Norris has given me a brief history of your affectionate regard for him.”

He tried to take my measure with a keen glance. I looked serious, and he took me seriously.

“You see,” he began, in a low voice, “for years I have been trying to protect him from unscrupulous men.”

He gently touched the end of one forefinger with the point of the other as he spoke. His words were neatly said, and were like his clothing, neatly pressed and dusted, and calculated to present a respectable appearance.

“Tell me all about it,” I said. “Norris didn't go into details.”

“Understand,” he went on, gently moving his head as if to shake it down in his linen a little more comfortably, “I have never made a cent out of this. I have only kept enough to cover my expenses.”

It was the old story long familiar to me. The gentleman knave generally operates on a high moral plane. Sometimes he can even fool himself about it. He had climbed on a saint's pedestal and was looking down on me. It shows the respect they all have for honor.

“There are two men besides myself who know the facts, and I have succeeded so far in keeping them quiet,” he added.

“I don't know you, but you won't be offended if I assume that you're a man of honor,” I said.

In the half-moment of silence that followed the old fog-siren screeched a warning.

There was a quick, nervous movement of the visitor's body that brought his head a little nearer to me. The fur had begun to rise on the cat's back.

“There's nothing to prevent it,” said he, with a look of surprise.

“Save a possible element of professional pride,” was my answer.

“That vanishes in the presence of a lawyer,” said he.

It was a kind of swift and surprising cuff with the paw, after which I knew him better.

“But we're licensed, you know, and now, your reputation being established, I suggest that you are in honor bound to let us know the names of those men.”

“Excuse me! I'm above that kind of thing—way above it,” said he, with a smile of regret for my ignorance.

“Perhaps you wouldn't be above explaining.”

“Not at all. If I told you that, I would be as bad as they are. Why, sir, I would be the yellowest yellow dog in the country.”

“Frankness is not apt to have an effect so serious,” I said.

Again the points of his forefingers came together as he gently answered:

“You see, the first demand they made of me, after putting the story in my hands, was that I should never give out their names. I had to promise that.”

“Oh, I see. They've elected you to the office of Guardian Angel and Secretary of the Treasury. How did it happen?”

The query didn't annoy him. He was getting used to my sallies, and went on:

“It was easy and natural as drawing your breath. Those men knew that I had met Mr. Norris—that I was a man of his class, and could talk to him on even terms. They had got the story from a man now dead—paid him five hundred dollars for it. They wanted my help to make a profit, see? I had met Mr. Norris and liked him. He is one of Nature's noblemen. So I played a friendly part in the matter, and bought the story and turned it over to Mr. Norris for what it cost me, and he gave me two hundred dollars for my time. Unfortunately, they have turned out to be rascals, and we have had to keep them in spending money, and prosperity has made them extravagant. The whole thing has become a nuisance to me, and I wish I was out of it.”

“What do they want now?” I asked.

“Ten thousand dollars.”

That was all he said—just those three well-filled words—with a sad but firm look in his face and a neat little gesture of both hands. “When do they want it?”

“To-day; they're getting impatient.”

“Suppose you tell them that they'll have to practise economy for a week or so at least. I don't know but we shall decide to let them go ahead and do their worst. It isn't going to hurt Norris. He's been foolish about it; I'm trying to stiffen his backbone.” Wilton rose with a look of impatience in his face that betrayed him.

“Very well; but I shall not be responsible for the consequences.”

The cat had hissed for the first time, but he quickly recovered himself; the tender look returned to his eyes.

“I think you're foolish,” he began again, while his right forefinger caressed the point of his left. “These men are not going to last long. One of them has had delirium tremens twice, and the other is in the hospital with Bright's disease. They're both of them broke, and you know as well as I that they could get this money in an hour from some newspaper. It's almost dead sure that both of these men will be out of the way in a year or so. Norris wants to be protected, and it's up to you and me to do it.”

“Personally I do not see the object,” I insisted. “Protecting him from one assault only exposes him to another.”

“You see, the daughter isn't married yet, and we'd better protect the name until she's out of the way, anyhow. That girl can go to Europe and take her pick. She's good enough for any title. But if this came out it would hurt her chances.”

“Mr. Wilton, I congratulate you,” was my remark.

“I thought you would see the point,” he answered, with a smile.

“I am thinking not of the point, but of your philanthropy. It is beautiful. Do you sleep well nights?”

“Very,” he answered, with a quick glance into my eyes.

“I should think that the troubles of the world would keep you awake.”

His face flushed a little, and then he smiled. “You lawyers have no suspicion of the amount of goodness there is in the world—you're always looking for rascals,” he said.

“But we have wandered. Let us take the nearest road to Rome. You say they must have money to-day.”

“Before three o'clock.”

“We'll give them ten thousand dollars—not a cent more. You must tell them to use it gently, for it's the last they'll get from us. To whom shall I draw the check?”

“To me—Lysander Wilton,” he answered, with a look of relief.

I gave him the check. He put on his coat and began to purr again; he was glad to know me, and rightly thought that he could turn some business my way.

As he left my office I went to one of the front windows and took out my handkerchief. The fog-whistle blew a blast that swept sea and land with its echoes. In a moment I saw a certain clever, keen-eyed man who was studying current history under the direction of Prof. William J. Bums come out of a door opposite and walk at a leisurely pace down the main street of Pointview toward the station. He was now taking the first steps in a systematic effort to see what was in and behind the man Wilton.