Читать книгу Bed Rock - Jack Bethea - Страница 3
ОглавлениеA QUESTION OF INFLUENCE
Blackford regretted his words the moment after he spoke. He had not intended to make such an admission. Angered by his father-in-law's sharp questions, he had struck back in the only way he knew.
That it was a contemptible thing to do, he did not consider. Reubens's bullying words probed him, the searching interrogations confused him, until at length he lost the iron self-control with which he had come to the interview.
He had not expected it to be easy. He knew Reubens too well for that. President of the Cahaba Coal and Iron Company, secure in the power of his millions, Reubens took interference from no one, and from a subordinate it was incredible.
For Blackford had interfered, had done it with calculation. He had planned to speak out coolly the accomplished fact of Alice Reubens's marriage to himself, expecting that it would disarm the ruthless old ironmaster.
Blackford's nerves had tightened when he received the summons from his own desk in the superintendent of mines' office to Reubens's private suite on the floor above. That moment was the crisis of the game he had set out to play. Clothed in an impassivity he had told himself nothing could shake, he had gone to the meeting, if not with confidence, at least without misgiving.
He was cynically sure of his plan. There would be a storm, but he knew Reubens's worship of Alice and was confident of getting what he wanted.
But he had overestimated his own strength. He had been trapped, his words twisted, his pride outraged; so he had spoken the heartless words, distinctly, quietly, in spite of the rage that shook him inwardly. A moment later as he saw the triumph in Reubens's gaze he was sorry, but it was too late.
To Reubens, Blackford's cool assurance was salt in the wound which had been opened by his daughter's announcement the night before. That an obscure clerk in his own office should have dared to do this was inconceivable, fantastic.
But Reubens wasted no time now in useless passion. He had set out to seek a remedy for a situation he did not like. Now, having found it, he nodded in satisfaction.
"I knew it was true, but I never thought you would admit it," he said quietly.
Blackford did not answer for a moment. His anger chilled and he braced himself for a blow.
"You underrate your powers, sir," he said finally. "You bring me in here with every advantage yours, you bully me, you browbeat me—what could you expect? You could make one admit anything."
"You have admitted enough," the older man retorted. Chewing an unlighted cigar, he stared at Blackford appraisingly. But Blackford's face, its pallor accentuated by his black hair, was a mask. The ironmaster flung his cigar into a waste-basket and spoke savagely:
"Well! Say something! What about it?"
"There doesn't seem much for me to say, sir. You seem perfectly able to say it all yourself."
"You're damned right I am," Reubens grunted. "And it's going to be to the point. It's a good thing I got back when I did."
Reubens whirled his chair, heaved to his feet, and padded over to a curtained alcove.
"Come out, Alice," he said, his tone suddenly tender. "You see, it's just as I told you. You heard."
The girl came from behind the curtains, putting out a groping hand that Reubens caught. She swayed for an instant and then went to the chair her father indicated. Her words came with difficulty:
"Yes, Dad, it's as you told me."
Her voice was low, the tones blurred.
"Well, are you convinced?" her father demanded.
She bent her head. "I am convinced," she replied.
There was regret in her tone, but no anger. The cadence of her voice was deliberate, as if she were holding herself in check.
"I should have known," she added. She seemed to be considering herself rather than any one else in the room, her chin in her hands, her eyes on the floor.
Blackford knew now the cause of the triumph in Reubens's face. His angry words had burned the bridge. There could be no going back. Reubens broke the silence, speaking to his daughter.
"You've heard your husband of a week admit that he married you only for what you could bring him. He stole you while I was away. And you told me last night that he was the finest man in the world!" A shiver was Alice Blackford's only admission that she heard. "The thing to do now," her father continued, "is to get you out."
For the first time, Alice looked up, her brown eyes filled with tears. "But, father," she said. "I can't——"
"Oh, yes, you can. There is always a way. And with his kind it is no mystery. Although up to now I have avoided blackmailers."
Alice shrank at the word. "You don't think that, do you?"
"You heard what he said. It is his idea, not mine. Blackmail isn't a pretty word, but that's what it is."
He took a checkbook from his desk, inked a pen and held it poised. He looked at Blackford in ironic politeness. "How much shall I make this for, sir?"
Blackford made no sign.
Alice broke the tension with outflung arms. "Oh, Warren! And I trusted you so!" she cried. "Why did you?"
Reubens swept her into his arms and strove to comfort her. "There! There! Honey. Never mind. Daddy will get you out of it. You ought to have told me ... there ... Daddy's right behind you as he always has been."
Alice, quieted, sat back in her chair, biting her lips. She was near the breaking point. Blackford knew it and marveled at her courage. He sat up and, leaning forward, began speaking slowly, weighing his words.
"Put up your checkbook, Mr. Reubens," he said, and paused, painfully striving for the phrases he needed. "I don't blame you for feeling as you do. I'm not very proud of myself right now. Whatever I may be and do, I have no illusions about myself."
"No one else will have very long," interjected Reubens.
For an instant Blackford looked toward Alice; his eyes appealed for understanding. But she turned away.
"Well!" Reubens urged harshly. "Say what you have to say!"
"It's foolish to play a game with all your cards on the table," said Blackford quietly. "But I am going to do it. I don't think you'll understand. I know you won't sympathize. You couldn't. Did you ever want anything badly? So badly you felt you would sell your soul for it and think it a good bargain? And you knew you couldn't get it? You knew it was hopeless?" Blackford was staring straight before him. "You don't remember it, of course, but you brought me to Pittsburgh. Do you recall your trip over the Alabama coal fields before you decided to buy in down there? You picked me up then. I was just a kid and slaving to put myself through school. I never did understand why you should have bothered with me. You forgot me as soon as it was done. I jumped at the chance to come East with you. I forgot about school. I thought it would be better than any school could be. I was crazy to get somewhere."
"You never told me that," Alice interrupted, a queer note in her voice.
"No," Blackford agreed.
"Go on! Go on!" prompted Reubens.
"Let him tell it his own way, Daddy," said Alice.
"That was twelve years ago," Blackford observed. "A long time. I worked hard when I came to Pittsburgh. I studied hard. I saved money and put myself through a technical school at nights. I already knew the practical things. The books didn't come easy, but I learned them. And then I found out something. I found that work didn't count. One must attract attention to get ahead. If you are known, things come your way. If you aren't known, you haven't a chance. At least, that is the way it seemed to me."
"I find this interesting," observed Reubens suavely. "Go on."
"I don't say that men who couldn't do the work were pushed up," Blackford resumed. "They were all good men, but no better than I was and not nearly so experienced. I wondered why I never got a chance. Then I saw it was because I wasn't known and they were. I was an out-lander, and when I got to be chief clerk to the superintendent of the mining division, I stayed there. I watched them go up. Drake was made director of blast furnaces because he was a nephew of the chief engineer. Hawkins is at the head of the by-products division because he went to college with the operating vice-president. I ought to have had both places. It was that way for six years. They were known and I was not. I was simply a good clerk. I guess I thought about it too much. I didn't have much else. I stood it as long as I could and then I made up my mind to do something. I would become known. One night I was working late when my ... your ... she ... came in looking for you. She ... was kind. That night ... I wondered. You went to Alabama ... so ..."
Blackford's voice trailed off into silence and Reubens sat up abruptly.
"Rot!" he declared. "I know your kind, Blackford. I know what is wrong with you. You never thought of anybody or anything but yourself. You couldn't give anything unless you could see where you would get Shylock interest for it." He laughed scornfully. "You've got to give. Do that and the jobs will take care of themselves." He paused for a moment and then went on. "And so you sneaked into my home and stole my daughter. Well, now that you are known, what do you want?"
