Flowing Gold — Chapter 28
CHAPTER XXVIII
Gray returned to his desk that morning after his call on "Bob" Parker determined to tackle energetically the numerous business details needing his attention, but he found that he could not do so.
As usual, his brief sight of the girl, instead of satisfying him, had merely increased his hunger; made him the more restless, the more eager to see her again--alone.
He gave up fighting his desires, presently, and invented the necessity of a hurried trip to the Avenger lease.
Her ready acceptance of the invitation he construed to indicate an eagerness akin to his own, and during the several hours they were together he had hard work to keep from breaking his resolve and telling her all she had come to mean to him.
"Bob" seemed to expect something of the sort, as a matter of fact.
Her shyness, her fluttering agitation when his voice unconsciously became tender--and he realized that, in spite of himself, the tone of his voice conveyed a message quite at variance with his words--taxed his self-control to the utmost.
Well, it wouldn't be long now--another two weeks perhaps!
But two weeks is an eternity when hearts are pounding, when ears are strained and lips are waiting.
Two callers were awaiting Gray when, late that afternoon, he mounted the stairs to his office--Tom Parker and Judge Halloran--and something in their formal, awkward greeting sent a quick chill of alarm through him.
Mechanically he ushered them into his private room and offered them chairs.
He heard himself chatting casually enough, but neither his own words nor theirs conveyed much meaning to him.
Nelson, it seemed, scorned no advantage, however dishonorable.
Gray's hatred of the man attained deeper, blacker depths than ever.
To-day of all days!
What a reckoning was due!
The two old men were talking, one lamely supplementing the other's efforts to lead up to the object of their visit.
Gray turned a set face to Tom Parker finally, and interrupted by saying: "Permit me to ease your embarrassment, sir.
You object to my attentions to your daughter.
Is that it?"
Tom dropped his eyes and mumbled an uncomfortable affirmative.
"Not, I hope, because you question the nature of my intentions?"
"Oh no!"
"I'd say yes and no to that," Halloran declared, argu-mentatively.
"Tom and I are gentlemen of the old school; we live by the code and 'Bob' is our joint property, in a way.
Any man who aspires to the honor of--well, of even paying attentions to that girl must stand the acid test.
There must be no blot upon his 'scutcheon."
"You imply, then, that there is a blot upon mine?"
"That is what prompts our visit, sir.
Can you assure us that there is none?"
After a moment of hesitation Gray inquired, curiously: "Judge, do you believe that a man can live down disgrace?"
"Disgrace, yes.
Dishonor, never!
A man's honor is so sensitive that to stain it is to wound it.
Like the human eye it cannot suffer the slightest injury without serious damage."
The younger man ignored the pompous tone of this speech; he nodded.
"I see.
Someone said also that it is like an island, rugged and without landing place; and once outside of it we can never re-enter.
That is your idea, I dare say."
"Precisely!"
Tom Parker stirred; irritably he broke out, "I'm damned if I think you did it!"
"Did what?"
Tom remained silent, but when his companion drew a deep, preparatory breath, Gray lifted a hand.
He rose nervously and in a changed tone continued: "Again let me speak for you and shorten our mutual distress.
First, however, I must make my own position plain.
I--love your daughter, Mr. Parker."
The declaration came at great cost, the speaker turned away to hide his emotion.
"I think--I hope she is not indifferent to me.
I
would give my life to marry her and, God willing, I shall.
So much for that."
He swung himself about and met the eyes of first one old man, then the other.
Harshly, defiantly, he added: "Understand me, nothing you can do, nothing on earth--nothing in Heaven or in hell, for that matter--will stop me from telling her about my love, when the time comes.
Now then, Henry Nelson has told you that I was--that I was sent back from overseas in disgrace.
You want to know if he spoke the truth.
He did!"
After a moment of silence Judge Halloran said, with stiff finality: "Under the circumstances there is nothing more to talk about.
You amaze me when you say--" "I want to know more than if he was just telling the truth," Tom interrupted, grimly.
"I want to know if you were guilty."
"That was the verdict of the court martial."
"To hell with that!
Innocent men have been hung."
A faint smile softened Gray's face.
"And guilty men have gone to the gallows protesting their innocence.
Which are you to believe?
I made the best defense possible, but it was insufficient.
I have no new evidence.
I would rather endure the stigma of guilt than have you consider me a liar, and, of course, that is what you would think if I denied it."
Halloran was on his feet now, and evidently anxious to terminate the interview.
"There are two sides to every case, of course, and justice is not always done.
However, that really makes no difference in this instance.
The findings of a military tribunal are as conclusive as those of any court of law, and it is not for us to question them.
To repeat what I started to say just now, I fail to understand how you can expect us to tolerate your further attentions to Miss Barbara or how you can persist in your insane determination to ask her hand in marriage."
"Perhaps you'll understand when I say that I propose to clear myself."
"How?
When?"
"Soon, I hope."
"And in the meantime?"
Gray considered this question briefly.
"In the meantime--if you will agree to say nothing to 'Bob,' I will promise not to declare my feelings, not to see her alone."
"That's a go," said the father.
"Mind you, I may fail to right myself.
In that event I shall feel at liberty to tell her the facts and ask her to believe in me against the world.
I trust she will do so.
If she loves me as I love her, she will marry me even though she knows I am a liar and a blackguard."
"Never!"
Halloran exploded.
"'Bob' isn't that sort of a girl."
"I hope it never comes to the test."
"I hope so, too," the father declared, earnestly.
"I'm--right fond of 'Bob,' and I wouldn't like to see her team up with a man she couldn't be proud of.
_I_ wouldn't take it easy."
Mild as were these words, coming from Tom Parker they had the ominous effect of a threat.
Without further ado the two old men left.
There was little sleep that night for Calvin Gray, and the days that followed were a torture.
It was a torment to avoid "Bob," for self-denial only whetted his appetite to see her, and those cunning plans he had laid at the time of their last meeting--plans devised solely to bring them together--he had to alter upon one excuse or another; he even forced Buddy Briskow to substitute for him.
Fortunately, there were certain negotiations requiring his presence in Dallas, in Tulsa, and elsewhere, and it some what relieved his irritation to put miles between him and the city he had come to regard as his home.
The Nelsons' bank was known as the Security National, and it represented the life work of two generations of the family.
Bell's father had founded it, in the early cattle days, but to the genius and industry of Bell himself had been due its growth into one of the influential institutions of the state.
Other banks had finer quarters, but none in this part of the country had a more solid standing nor more powerful names upon its directorate.
Bennett Swope, for instance, was the richest of the big cattle barons; Martin Murphy was known as the Arkansas hardwood king, and Herman Gage owned and operated a chain of department stores.
The other two--there were but seven, including Bell and his son--were Northern capitalists who took no very active interest in the bank and almost never attended its meetings.
For that matter, the three local men above named concerned themselves little with the actual running of the institution, for the Nelsons, who owned nine-tenths of the stock, were supreme in that sphere.
It was only at the annual meetings when directors were re-elected--and invariably they succeeded themselves--that they forgathered to conduct the dull routine business which is a part of all annual meetings.
After they had adjourned as stockholders they reconvened as directors, and again mumbled hurried and perfunctory ayes to the motions put before them, so that Bell could the more quickly get out his bottle of fine old Bourbon, the one really ceremonious procedure of the day.
The Security National was as conservative, as rock ribbed, as respectable, and as uninteresting as any bank could well be, and its directors were always bored when election time came around.
In spite of the fact that the program this year was as thoroughly cut and dried as usual, the day of the meeting found both father and son decidedly nervous, for there were certain questions of management and of policy which they did not wish to touch upon, and their nervousness manifested itself in an assumption of friendliness and good fellowship quite unusual.
Senator Lowe, the bank's attorney and secretary, was arranging his minute books, his reports, and his miscellaneous papers, Martin Murphy was telling his latest story, when a knock came at the door to the directors' room.
Bell himself answered it, but his protest at the interruption died upon his lips when he beheld Calvin Gray, Gus Briskow, and the latter's son, Ozark, facing him.
Gray spoke sharply, and his words fell with the effect of a bomb, at least upon Bell and Henry, for what he said was: "We are attending this meeting as stockholders, and we came early to enable the secretary to record the necessary transfer of our shares."
Disregarding the president's gasp of astonishment, the speaker pushed past him and entered, then introduced himself and his companions to the other men present.
Henry Nelson experienced a sick moment of dizziness; the room grew black before his eyes.
It was Bell who broke out, harshly: "_Stockholders?
_ Where did _you_ get any stock in this bank, I'd like to know?"
"We bought it.
Picked it up here and there--" "I don't believe it!"
Bell glared at the speaker, then he turned his eyes upon Swope, upon Murphy, upon Gage.
"Did any of you sell out?"
"We don't own enough to make it worth while," Swope said, dryly.
Murphy and Gage agreed.
Bell's peculiar display of emotion surprised them;
they exchanged glances.
"I thought there wasn't any stock outside of what's owned by our group.
What's the idea?"
Gray answered, easily.
"There is now a considerable amount outside of that.
A very considerable amount."
Henry Nelson made himself audible for the first time, and sneered angrily.
"Quite theatric, Gray, this eleventh-hour move.
How much have you got?
What's your--your object?"
In spite of himself his voice shook.
"My object is purely selfish."
Gray's tone was equally unpleasant.
He had expected to create a sensation, and he was not disappointed.
"Mr. Briskow and his son are looking for a secure investment, and I have convinced them of the soundness of your institution.
My operations make it necessary for me to establish a close banking affiliation--one where I can ask for and receive consideration"--his mockery was now unmistakable--"so where should I turn, except to my friends?
I assume you make no objection to the stock transfer?
Very well."
He drew from his pocket a bundle of shares and tossed them across the table to Senator Lowe.
Henry made his way to his father's side; they withdrew to a corner and bent their heads together, murmuring inaudibly.
Gray watched them with unblinking intensity; he nodded to Buddy Briskow, and the latter, as if heeding some prearranged signal, removed his hands from his pockets and stepped farther into the room.
He, too, watched the agitated pair.
"Why--look here!"
the secretary gasped, after a moment or two.
"This--this gives you control!"
Bell Nelson raised a stricken face.
"Control?"
he repeated, faintly.
"_Control_?"
He strode to the end of the table, and with shaking hands he ran through the sheaf of neatly folded certificates.
"Sold out, by God!"
He fell to cursing certain men, the names of whom caused Swope and Murphy and Gage to prick up their ears.
Gray was still staring at the junior Nelson; it was to him more than to the father that he spoke: "Sold out is right!
It came high, but I think it was worth the price.
We intend to vote our stock."
"By that I infer that you're going to take the bank over--take its management away from Bell and Henry?"
Bennett Swope ventured.
"Naturally."
The elder Nelson voiced an unintelligible exclamation.
"That's a pretty rough deal.
Bell has put his life into it.
It is an--an institution, a credit to the community.
It would be a misfortune if it fell into the hands of--into the control of somebody who--" The ranchman hesitated, then blurted forth, angrily: "Well, I don't like the look of this thing.
I want to know what it means."
"I'll tell you," Henry cried, unevenly.
"I'll tell you what it means.
Persecution!
Revenge!
Hatred!
I quarreled with this man, in France.
He's vindictive; he followed me here--tried every way to ruin me--cost me thousands, hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Father and I were--we were pinched.
We had to realize some quick money to protect our oil holdings--offsets and the like--and we sold a lot of our stock with the understanding that we could--that we would buy it back at a higher figure.
We only borrowed on it, you might say--hypothecated it.
We thought we were dealing with friends, but--_Friends_!
My God!"
The speaker seized his head.
"The stock was not hypothecated.
You sold it," Gray said, quietly, "and we bought it in."
"It is all a personal matter, a grudge."
"Is that true, Mr. Gray?"
Swope inquired.
"Substantially.
But I'm waiting for Colonel Nelson to tell you more; to tell you the whole story of our antagonism."
Martin Murphy, who had been a silent onlooker up to this point, made himself heard.
"Mr. Gray, I don't like the look of this any better than Swope does.
Your quarrel with Henry is wholly your and his affair, but the welfare of the Security National is partly ours.
Banks are not toys, to be juggled and played with in mischief or in spite.
You say you paid high for your stock; do you intend to wreck the institution, lose a fortune--?"
"By no means."
"That's precisely what you will succeed in doing."
"I had ventured to hope that you three gentlemen would remain on the board."
"Am I dreaming?"
Bell Nelson's collar appeared to be choking him, and with clumsy fingers he tugged at it.
"Going to kick Henry and me off the board, eh?
Rob us?
Well, I'm damned if you do!
You'll not kick us off--" "He doesn't want the bank," the son exclaimed, hoarsely.
"That's all a bluff.
He wants blackmail.
That's the kind of man he is.
He wants his price.
I know him.
How much, Gray?
What'll it cost us?"
"I'll tell you what it will cost--" "Ha!
Didn't I say so?"
"Oh, there is a price for everything!
Mine will surprise you, however, it is so low.
Can't you guess what it is?"
The speaker's intent gaze had never left Henry Nelson's face; it was fixed there now, as cold, as relentless as the stare of a python.
Bell Nelson leaned forward, his lips parted, a new eagerness came into his purple countenance.
"Well, well!
What is it?"
he demanded, querulously.
"Vindication!"
There was a moment of silence.
"What is he talking about, Henry?"
Bell's eyes were strained toward his son.
"I don't know," the latter said, in a thin voice.
"He's crazy--always was."
"I'm giving you a chance, Colonel.
You'd better take it.
Think carefully."
When there came no response to this warning, Gray shrugged.
"Very well!
There is nothing further, except to complete the transfer and proceed with the business of the meeting.
Mr. Briskow will be the next president, and I shall occupy the position of vice-president and treasurer now held by you--" The effect of this declaration was electric.
With a cry the younger Nelson lunged forward.
Confusion followed.
It was of short duration, however, for Henry found himself locked in the arms of the Briskow giant.
Others lent Buddy their assistance, and, in spite of his struggles, the vice-president was flung backward upon a deep leather divan.
He rose unsteadily, but, meeting Buddy's threatening gaze and realizing the impossibility of getting past him, he cried: "Let me out of here!
Let me out, damn you!
I--I'll get you for this, Gray.
Let me out, I tell you!"
"Buddy!"
Gray jerked his head in the direction of the door to one of the adjoining offices.
"He keeps a gun in his desk--top drawer.
Get it before me makes a fool of himself."
Young Briskow stepped out of the room.
Gray continued, speaking to the others, "I have something to say to you gentlemen before we go on with the meeting, and I wish to say it in the presence of Colonel Nelson and his--" "You'll not keep me here.
I refuse to stay," Henry shouted, and he pushed past Swope toward the door.
"Wait!"
It was the elder Nelson speaking, and in his voice was a new note--a note of triumph.
"Stock can't be transferred at an annual meeting.
It has to be done in advance--ten days, I think it is.
Am I right, Senator?"
"That is the usual procedure," Senator Lowe agreed.
"Better look it up and make sure," Gray directed.
There followed a few moments of uncomfortable silence while the bank's attorney ran through the by-laws.
It seemed to those waiting that it was a long time before he frowned and shook his head.
"I--ah--I can find nothing against it.
It seems I have nothing to do except transfer the shares."
"Then there won't be any meeting!"
Bell loudly declared.
The three directors greeted this remark with exclamations of genuine relief.
"Sure!
Let's adjourn--put it over until--" one of them began, but the bank's president was bellowing in rising fury at the interlopers: "Get out!
Get out of my office, d'you hear?
Get out--" "Looks to me like it's _my_ office," Gus Briskow said, quietly, "or it will be, directly.
You, Bell, put on the muffler!
I came a long ways to attend this meetin'.
It's the first one I ever been to, an' it's goin' to happen.
Shut up your fuss!
I want you to hear what Mr. Gray's got to say."
"To hell with him, and you, too!"
stormed the financier.
"Hold the meeting, eh?
Hold it if you dare!
I defy you.
Steal my bank, double-cross me--We'll see about that.
Come along, Henry."
"You're in," Gray said, menacingly; "you'd better stay and vote your stock or you may never get back again."
But neither father nor son heeded him.
When they had gone he frowned.
"I'm sorry.
Really I am.
I
hoped I could force--" "I think we'd better go, too," some one said.
"This is too extraordinary--We're in no frame of mind to go ahead--" "I must insist that you remain long enough to hear me out.
You have no right to refuse.
There is something you _must_ be told."
"I'll admit I'm curious to know what the devil it all means," Murphy, the lumberman, confessed; "but I don't know that I should accept an explanation from you.
Not after Henry's accusations.
I've known him and Bell for years--" "I respect your friendship for them, and I sha'n't expect you to put trust in my words.
It seems to me, however, that you owe it to that friendship to hear me.
This incident has taken a turn wholly unexpected, and, I must confess, disappointing.
I looked for a different outcome--hoped I'd be able to force an explanation--" The speaker shook his head and frowned again, perplexedly.
When, after a moment of indecisive murmuring, the three directors seated themselves, Gray thanked them with a bow.
"I'll be as brief as possible, and if you don't mind I'll stand as I talk.
I'm in no mood to sit.
I'll have to go back a bit--" It was several seconds before he resumed.
"When it became evident that the United States was going to war, I managed to get in at Plattsburg and took the officers' training course.
It was easy for me to complete that course, because I had served in the Spanish War and had kept up my interest in military affairs.
Something convinced those who ought to know that I possessed qualifications of unusual value to the country--a wide business experience at home and abroad, a knowledge of languages perhaps--anyhow, I was called to Washington.
There I met Henry Nelson--a valuable man, too, in his way.
We were commissioned at the same time and sent overseas on the same ship to engage in the same work--military intelligence.
I didn't like the job, but it was considered important, and naturally I couldn't pick and choose.
