Books: The Lion and the Mouse
C >>
Charles Klein >> The Lion and the Mouse
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 | 12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 |
18 |
19
DEAR MADAM.--If convenient, I should like to see you at my office,
No. 36 Broadway, in relation to your book "The American Octopus."
Kindly inform me as to the day and hour at which I may expect you.
Yours truly,
JOHN BURKETT RYDER, per B.
Shirley almost shouted from sheer excitement. At first she was
alarmed--the name John Burkett Ryder was such a bogey to frighten
bad children with, she thought he might want to punish her for
writing about him as she had. She hurried to the porch and sat
there reading the letter over and over and her brain began to
evolve ideas. She had been wondering how she could get at Mr.
Ryder and here he was actually asking her to call on him.
Evidently he had not the slightest idea of her identity, for he
had been able to reach her only through her publishers and no
doubt he had exhausted every other means of discovering her
address. The more she pondered over it the more she began to see
in this invitation a way of helping her father. Yes, she would go
and beard the lion in his den, but she would not go to his office.
She would accept the invitation only on condition that the
interview took place in the Ryder mansion where undoubtedly the
letters would be found. She decided to act immediately. No time
was to be lost, so she procured a sheet of paper and an envelope
and wrote as follows:
MR. JOHN BURKETT RYDER,
Dear Sir.--I do not call upon gentlemen at their business office.
Yours, etc.,
SHIRLEY GREEN.
Her letter was abrupt and at first glance seemed hardly calculated
to bring about what she wanted--an invitation to call at the Ryder
home, but she was shrewd enough to see that if Ryder wrote to her
at all it was because he was most anxious to see her and her
abruptness would not deter him from trying again. On the contrary,
the very unusualness of anyone thus dictating to him would make
him more than ever desirous of making her acquaintance. So Shirley
mailed the letter and awaited with confidence for Ryder's reply.
So certain was she that one would come that she at once began to
form her plan of action. She would leave Massapequa at once, and
her whereabouts must remain a secret even from her own family. As
she intended to go to the Ryder house in the assumed character of
Shirley Green, it would never do to run the risk of being followed
home by a Ryder detective to the Rossmore cottage. She would
confide in one person only--Judge Stott. He would know where she
was and would be in constant communication with her. But,
otherwise, she must be alone to conduct the campaign as she judged
fit. She would go at once to New York and take rooms in a boarding
house where she would be known as Shirley Green. As for funds to
meet her expenses, she had her diamonds, and would they not be
filling a more useful purpose if sold to defray the cost of saving
her father than in mere personal adornment? So that evening, while
her mother was talking with the judge, she beckoned Stott over to
the corner where she was sitting:
"Judge Stott," she began, "I have a plan."
He smiled indulgently at her.
"Another friend like that of yesterday?" he asked.
"No," replied the girl, "listen. I am in earnest now and I want
you to help me. You said that no one on earth could resist John
Burkett Ryder, that no one could fight against the Money Power.
Well, do you know what I am going to do?"
There was a quiver in her voice and her nostrils were dilated like
those of a thoroughbred eager to run the race. She had risen from
her seat and stood facing him, her fists clenched, her face set
and determined. Stott had never seen her in this mood and he gazed
at her half admiringly, half curiously.
"What will you do?" he asked with a slightly ironical inflection
in his voice.
"I am going to fight John Burkett Ryder!" she cried.
Stott looked at her open-mouthed.
"You?" he said.
"Yes, I," said Shirley. "I'm going to him and I intend to get
those letters if he has them."
Stott shook his head.
"My dear child," he said, "what are you talking about? How can you
expect to reach Ryder? We couldn't."
"I don't know just how yet," replied Shirley, "but I'm going to
try. I love my father and I'm going to leave nothing untried to
save him."
"But what can you do?" persisted Stott. "The matter has been
sifted over and over by some of the greatest minds in the
country."
"Has any woman sifted it over?" demanded Shirley.
"No, but--" stammered Stott.
"Then it's about time one did," said the girl decisively. "Those
letters my father speaks of--they would be useful, would they
not?"
"They would be invaluable."
"Then I'll get them. If not--"
"But I don't understand how you're going to get at Ryder,"
interrupted Stott.
"This is how," replied Shirley, passing over to him the letter she
had received that afternoon.
As Stott recognized the well-known signature and read the
contents, the expression of his face changed. He gasped for breath
and sank into a chair from sheer astonishment.
"Ah, that's different!" he cried, "that's different!"
Briefly Shirley outlined her plan, explaining that she would go to
live in the city immediately and conduct her campaign from there.
If she was successful, it might save her father and if not, no
harm could come of it.
Stott demurred at first. He did not wish to bear alone the
responsibility of such an adventure. There was no knowing what
might happen to her, visiting a strange house under an assumed
name. But when he saw how thoroughly in earnest she was and that
she was ready to proceed without him, he capitulated. He agreed
that she might be able to find the missing letters or if not, that
she might make some impression on Ryder himself. She could show
interest in the judge's case as a disinterested outsider and so
might win his sympathies. From being a skeptic, Stott now became
enthusiastic. He promised to cooperate in every way and to keep
Shirley's whereabouts an absolute secret. The girl, therefore,
began to make her preparations for departure from home by telling
her parents that she had accepted an invitation to spend a week or
two with an old college chum in New York.
That same evening her mother, the judge, and Stott went for a
stroll after dinner and left her to take care of the house. They
had wanted Shirley to go, too, but she pleaded fatigue. The truth
was that she wanted to be alone so she could ponder undisturbed
over her plans. It was a clear, starlit night, with no moon, and
Shirley sat on the porch listening to the chirping of the crickets
and idly watching the flashes of the mysterious fireflies. She was
in no mood for reading and sat for a long time rocking herself,
engrossed in her thoughts. Suddenly she heard someone unfasten the
garden gate. It was too soon for the return of the promenaders; it
must be a visitor. Through the uncertain penumbra of the garden
she discerned approaching a form which looked familiar. Yes, now
there was no doubt possible. It was, indeed, Jefferson Ryder.
She hurried down the porch to greet him. No matter what the father
had done she could never think any the less of the son. He took
her hand and for several moments neither one spoke. There are
times when silence is more eloquent than speech and this was one
of them. The gentle grip of his big strong hand expressed more
tenderly than any words, the sympathy that lay in his heart for
the woman he loved. Shirley said quietly:
"You have come at last, Jefferson."
"I came as soon as I could," he replied gently. "I saw Father only
yesterday."
"You need not tell me what he said," Shirley hastened to say.
Jefferson made no reply. He understood what she meant. He hung his
head and hit viciously with his walking stick at the pebbles that
lay at his feet. She went on:
"I know everything now. It was foolish of me to think that Mr.
Ryder would ever help us."
"I can't help it in any way," blurted out Jefferson. "I have not
the slightest influence over him. His business methods I consider
disgraceful--you understand that, don't you, Shirley?"
The girl laid her hand on his arm and replied kindly:
"Of course, Jeff, we know that. Come up and sit down."
He followed her on the porch and drew up a rocker beside her.
"They are all out for a walk," she explained.
"I'm glad," he said frankly. "I wanted a quiet talk with you. I
did not care to meet anyone. My name must be odious to your
people."
Both were silent, feeling a certain awkwardness. They seemed to
have drifted apart in some way since those delightful days in
Paris and on the ship. Then he said:
"I'm going away, but I couldn't go until I saw you."
"You are going away?" exclaimed Shirley, surprised.
"Yes," he said, "I cannot stand it any more at home. I had a hot
talk with my father yesterday about one thing and another. He and
I don't chin well together. Besides this matter of your father's
impeachment has completely discouraged me. All the wealth in the
world could never reconcile me to such methods! I'm ashamed of the
role my own flesh and blood has played in that miserable affair. I
can't express what I feel about it."
"Yes," sighed Shirley, "it is hard to believe that you are the son
of that man!"
"How is your father?" inquired Jefferson. "How does he take it?"
"Oh, his heart beats and he can see and hear and speak," replied
Shirley sadly, "but he is only a shadow of what he once was. If
the trial goes against him, I don't think he'll survive it."
"It is monstrous," cried Jefferson. "To think that my father
should be responsible for this thing!"
"We are still hoping for the best," added Shirley, "but the
outlook is dark."
"But what are you going to do?" he asked. "These surroundings are
not for you--" He looked around at the cheap furnishings which he
could see through the open window and his face showed real
concern.
"I shall teach or write, or go out as governess," replied Shirley
with a tinge of bitterness. Then smiling sadly she added: "Poverty
is easy; it is unmerited disgrace which is hard."
The young man drew his chair closer and took hold of the hand that
lay in her lap. She made no resistance.
"Shirley," he said, "do you remember that talk we had on the ship?
I asked you to be my wife. You led me to believe that you were not
indifferent to me. I ask you again to marry me. Give me the right
to take care of you and yours. I am the son of the world's richest
man, but I don't want his money. I have earned a competence of my
own--enough to live on comfortably. We will go away where you and
your father and mother will make their home with us. Do not let
the sins of the fathers embitter the lives of the children."
"Mine has not sinned," said Shirley bitterly.
"I wish I could say the same of mine," replied Jefferson. "It is
because the clouds are dark about you that I want to come into
your life to comfort you."
The girl shook her head.
"No, Jefferson, the circumstances make such a marriage impossible.
Your family and everybody else would say that I had inveigled you
into it. It is even more impossible now than I thought it was when
I spoke to you on the ship. Then I was worried about my father's
trouble and could give no thought to anything else. Now it is
different. Your father's action has made our union impossible for
ever. I thank you for the honour you have done me. I do like you.
I like you well enough to be your wife, but I will not accept this
sacrifice on your part. Your offer, coming at such a critical
time, is dictated only by your noble, generous nature, by your
sympathy for our misfortune. Afterwards, you might regret it. If
my father were convicted and driven from the bench and you found
you had married the daughter of a disgraced man you would be
ashamed of us all, and if I saw that it would break my heart."
Emotion stopped her utterance and she buried her face in her hands
weeping silently.
"Shirley," said Jefferson gently, "you are wrong. I love you for
yourself, not because of your trouble. You know that. I shall
never love any other woman but you. If you will not say 'yes' now,
I shall go away as I told my father I would and one day I shall
come back and then if you are still single I shall ask you again
to be my wife."
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"I shall travel for a year and then, may be, I shall stay a couple
of years in Paris, studying at the Beaux Arts. Then I may go to
Rome. If I am to do anything worth while in the career I have
chosen I must have that European training."
"Paris! Rome!" echoed Shirley. "How I envy you! Yes, you are
right. Get away from this country where the only topic, the only
thought is money, where the only incentive to work is dollars. Go
where there are still some ideals, where you can breathe the
atmosphere of culture and art."
Forgetting momentarily her own troubles, Shirley chatted on about
life in the art centres of Europe, advised Jefferson where to go,
with whom to study. She knew people in Paris, Rome and Munich and
she would give him letters to them. Only, if he wanted to perfect
himself in the languages, he ought to avoid Americans and
cultivate the natives. Then, who could tell? if he worked hard and
was lucky, he might have something exhibited at the Salon and
return to America a famous painter.
"If I do," smiled Jefferson, "you shall be the first to
congratulate me. I shall come and ask you to be my wife. May I?"
he added.
Shirley smiled gravely.
"Get famous first. You may not want me then."
"I shall always want you," he whispered hoarsely, bending over
her. In the dim light of the porch he saw that her tear-stained
face was drawn and pale. He rose and held out his hand.
"Good-bye," he said simply.
"Good-bye, Jefferson." She rose and put her hand in his. "We shall
always be friends. I, too, am going away."
"You going away--where to?" he asked surprised.
"I have work to do in connection with my father's case," she said.
"You?" said Jefferson puzzled. "You have work to do--what work?"
"I can't say what it is, Jefferson. There are good reasons why I
can't. You must take my word for it that it is urgent and
important work." Then she added: "You go your way, Jefferson; I
will go mine. It was not our destiny to belong to each other. You
will become famous as an artist. And I--"
"And you--" echoed Jefferson.
"I--I shall devote my life to my father. It's no use, Jefferson--
really--I've thought it all out. You must not come back to me--you
understand. We must be alone with our grief--father and I. Good-
bye."
He raised her hand to his lips.
"Good-bye, Shirley. Don't forget me. I shall come back for you."
He went down the porch and she watched him go out of the gate and
down the road until she could see his figure no longer. Then she
turned back and sank into her chair and burying her face in her
handkerchief she gave way to a torrent of tears which afforded
some relief to the weight on her heart. Presently the others
returned from their walk and she told them about the visitor.
"Mr. Ryder's son, Jefferson, was here. We crossed on the same
ship. I introduced him to Judge Stott on the dock."
The judge looked surprised, but he merely said:
"I hope for his sake that he is a different man from his father."
"He is," replied Shirley simply, and nothing more was said.
Two days went by, during which Shirley went on completing the
preparations for her visit to New York. It was arranged that Stott
should escort her to the city. Shortly before they started for the
train a letter arrived for Shirley. Like the first one it had been
forwarded by her publishers. It read as follows:
MISS SHIRLEY GREEN,
Dear Madam.--I shall be happy to see you at my residence--Fifth
Avenue--any afternoon that you will mention.
Yours very truly,
JOHN BURKETT RYDER, per B.
Shirley smiled in triumph as, unseen by her father and mother, she
passed it over to Stott. She at once sat down and wrote this
reply:
MR. JOHN BURKETT RYDER,
Dear Sir.--I am sorry that I am unable to comply with your
request. I prefer the invitation to call at your private residence
should come from Mrs. Ryder.
Yours, etc.,
SHIRLEY GREEN.
She laughed as she showed this to Stott: "He'll write me again,"
she said, "and next time his wife will sign the letter."
An hour later she left Massapequa for the city.
CHAPTER XI
The Hon. Fitzroy Bagley had every reason to feel satisfied with
himself. His affaire de coeur with the Senator's daughter was
progressing more smoothly than ever, and nothing now seemed likely
to interfere with his carefully prepared plans to capture an
American heiress. The interview with Kate Roberts in the library,
so awkwardly disturbed by Jefferson's unexpected intrusion, had
been followed by other interviews more secret and more successful,
and the plausible secretary had contrived so well to persuade the
girl that he really thought the world of her, and that a brilliant
future awaited her as his wife, that it was not long before he
found her in a mood to refuse him nothing.
Bagley urged immediate marriage; he insinuated that Jefferson had
treated her shamefully and that she owed it to herself to show the
world that there were other men as good as the one who had jilted
her. He argued that in view of the Senator being bent on the match
with Ryder's son it would be worse than useless for him, Bagley,
to make formal application for her hand, so, as he explained, the
only thing which remained was a runaway marriage. Confronted with
the fait accompli, papa Roberts would bow to the inevitable. They
could get married quietly in town, go away for a short trip, and
when the Senator had gotten over his first disappointment they
would be welcomed back with open arms.
Kate listened willingly enough to this specious reasoning. In her
heart she was piqued at Jefferson's indifference and she was
foolish enough to really believe that this marriage with a British
nobleman, twice removed, would be in the nature of a triumph over
him. Besides, this project of an elopement appealed strangely to
her frivolous imagination; it put her in the same class as all her
favourite novel heroines. And it would be capital fun!
Meantime, Senator Roberts, in blissful ignorance of this little
plot against his domestic peace, was growing impatient and he
approached his friend Ryder once more on the subject of his son
Jefferson. The young man, he said, had been back from Europe some
time. He insisted on knowing what his attitude was towards his
daughter. If they were engaged to be married he said there should
be a public announcement of the fact. It was unfair to him and a
slight to his daughter to let matters hang fire in this
unsatisfactory way and he hinted that both himself and his
daughter might demand their passports from the Ryder mansion
unless some explanation were forthcoming.
Ryder was in a quandary. He had no wish to quarrel with his useful
Washington ally; he recognized the reasonableness of his
complaint. Yet what could he do? Much as he himself desired the
marriage, his son was obstinate and showed little inclination to
settle down. He even hinted at attractions in another quarter. He
did not tell the Senator of his recent interview with his son when
the latter made it very plain that the marriage could never take
place. Ryder, Sr., had his own reasons for wishing to temporize.
It was quite possible that Jefferson might change his mind and
abandon his idea of going abroad and he suggested to the Senator
that perhaps if he, the Senator, made the engagement public
through the newspapers it might have the salutary effect of
forcing his son's hand.
So a few mornings later there appeared among the society notes in
several of the New York papers this paragraph:
"The engagement is announced of Miss Katherine Roberts, only
daughter of senator Roberts of Wisconsin, to Jefferson Ryder, son
of Mr. John Burkett Ryder."
Two persons in New York happened to see the item about the same
time and both were equally interested, although it affected them
in a different manner. One was Shirley Rossmore, who had chanced
to pick up the newspaper at the breakfast table in her boarding
house.
"So soon?" she murmured to herself. Well, why not? She could not
blame Jefferson. He had often spoken to her of this match arranged
by his father and they had laughed over it as a typical marriage
of convenience modelled after the Continental pattern. Jefferson,
she knew, had never cared for the girl nor taken the affair
seriously. Some powerful influences must have been at work to make
him surrender so easily. Here again she recognized the masterly
hand of Ryder, Sr., and more than ever she was eager to meet this
extraordinary man and measure her strength with his. Her mind,
indeed, was too full of her father's troubles to grieve over her
own however much she might have been inclined to do so under other
circumstances, and all that day she did her best to banish the
paragraph from her thoughts. More than a week had passed since she
left Massapequa and what with corresponding with financiers,
calling on editors and publishers, every moment of her time had
been kept busy. She had found a quiet and reasonable priced
boarding house off Washington Square and here Stott had called
several times to see her. Her correspondence with Mr. Ryder had
now reached a phase when it was impossible to invent any further
excuses for delaying the interview asked for. As she had foreseen,
a day or two after her arrival in town she had received a note
from Mrs. Ryder asking her to do her the honour to call and see
her, and Shirley, after waiting another two days, had replied
making an appointment for the following day at three o'clock. This
was the same day on which the paragraph concerning the Ryder-
Roberts engagement appeared in the society chronicles of the
metropolis.
Directly after the meagre meal which in New York boarding houses
is dignified by the name of luncheon, Shirley proceeded to get
ready for this portentous visit to the Ryder mansion. She was
anxious to make a favourable impression on the financier, so she
took some pains with her personal appearance. She always looked
stylish, no matter what she wore, and her poverty was of too
recent date to make much difference to her wardrobe, which was
still well supplied with Paris-made gowns. She selected a simple
close-fitting gown of gray chiffon cloth and a picture hat of
Leghorn straw heaped with red roses, Shirley's favourite flower.
Thus arrayed, she sallied forth at two o'clock--a little gray
mouse to do battle with the formidable lion.
The sky was threatening, so instead of walking a short way up
Fifth Avenue for exercise, as she had intended doing, she cut
across town through Ninth Street, and took the surface car on
Fourth Avenue. This would put her down at Madison Avenue and
Seventy-fourth Street, which was only a block from the Ryder
residence. She looked so pretty and was so well dressed that the
passers-by who looked after her wondered why she did not take a
cab instead of standing on a street corner for a car. But one's
outward appearance is not always a faithful index to the condition
of one's pocketbook, and Shirley was rapidly acquiring the art of
economy.
It was not without a certain trepidation that she began this
journey. So far, all her plans had been based largely on theory,
but now that she was actually on her way to Mr. Ryder all sorts of
misgivings beset her. Suppose he knew her by sight and roughly
accused her of obtaining access to his house under false pretences
and then had her ejected by the servants? How terrible and
humiliating that would be! And even if he did not how could she
possibly find those letters with him watching her, and all in the
brief time of a conventional afternoon call? It had been an absurd
idea from the first. Stott was right; she saw that now. But she
had entered upon it and she was not going to confess herself
beaten until she had tried. And as the car sped along Madison
Avenue, gradually drawing nearer to the house which she was going
to enter disguised as it were, like a burglar, she felt cold
chills run up and down her spine--the same sensation that one
experiences when one rings the bell of a dentist's where one has
gone to have a tooth extracted. In fact, she felt so nervous and
frightened that if she had not been ashamed before herself she
would have turned back. In about twenty minutes the car stopped at
the corner of Seventy-fourth Street. Shirley descended and with a
quickened pulse walked towards the Ryder mansion, which she knew
well by sight.
There was one other person in New York who, that same morning, had
read the newspaper item regarding the Ryder-Roberts betrothal, and
he did not take the matter so calmly as Shirley had done. On the
contrary, it had the effect of putting him into a violent rage.
This was Jefferson. He was working in his studio when he read it
and five minutes later he was tearing up-town to seek the author
of it. He understood its object, of course; they wanted to force
his hand, to shame him into this marriage, to so entangle him with
the girl that no other alternative would be possible to an
honourable man. It was a despicable trick and he had no doubt that
his father was at the back of it. So his mind now was fully made
up. He would go away at once where they could not make his life a
burden with this odious marriage which was fast becoming a
nightmare to him. He would close up his studio and leave
immediately for Europe. He would show his father once for all that
he was a man and expected to be treated as one.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 | 12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 |
18 |
19