Part 58 (1/2)
Crane saw all this with fierce satisfaction. He had planned this sudden accusation with subtle forethought. It even gave him relief to feel his suffering s.h.i.+fted to another; he was no longer the a.s.sailed by evil fortune, he was the a.s.sailant. Already the sustaining force of right was on his side; what a dreadful thing it was to squirm and shrink in the toils of crime. A thought that he might have been like this had he allowed Mortimer to stand accused flashed through his mind. He waited for his victim to speak.
At last Ca.s.s found strength to say: ”Mr. Crane, this is a terrible accusation; there is some dreadful mistake--I did not--”
The other interrupted him. The man's defense must be so abjectly hopeless, such a cowardly weak string of lies, that out of pity, as he might have ceased to beat a hound, Crane continued, speaking rapidly, holding the guilty man tight in the grasp of his fierce denunciation.
”You stole that note. You sent it, with a quick-delivery stamp to your brother, Billy Ca.s.s, in New York, and he bet it for you on my horse, The Dutchman, on the 13th, and lost it. Mortimer, thinking that Alan Porter had taken the money, replaced it, and you nearly committed a greater crime than stealing when you allowed him to be dishonored, allowed him to be accused and all but convicted of your foolish sin. It is useless to deny it, all this can be proved in court. I have weighed the matter carefully, and if you confess you will not be prosecuted; if you do not, you will be sent to the penitentiary.”
Ca.s.s, stricken beyond the hope of defense, rose from his chair, steadying himself with his hands on the table, leaned far over it, as though he were drawn physically by the fierce magnetism of his accuser, and spoke in a voice scarce stronger than the treble of a child's: ”My G.o.d! Mr. Crane! Do you mean it, that you won't prosecute me? Did you say that?”
”Not if you confess.”
”Thank G.o.d--thank you, sir. I'm glad, I'm glad; I've been in h.e.l.l for days. I haven't slept. Mortimer's eyes have stared at me all through the night, for I liked him--everybody liked him--he was good to me. Oh, G.o.d!
I should have gone out of my mind with more of it. I didn't steal the money--no, no! I didn't mean to steal it; the Devil put it into my hands. Before G.o.d, I never stole a dollar in my life. But it wasn't that--it wasn't the money--it was to think that an innocent man was to suffer--to have his life wrecked because of my folly.”
How it was coming home to Crane. Had he not dabbled his hands in the same sin, almost committed it?
”You have never known what it is to suffer in that way. But let me tell you all. I must. Then perhaps you will understand how I was tempted. For years I have been ground in poverty. My mother and my sister, even my brother have all looked to me. My brother should have supported them, but all his money went on the race course, gambling. When I heard Alan Porter tell Mortimer that your horse was sure to win, for the first time in my life I felt a desire to get money that way. But I had no money to bet. That day as I went into the vault I saw under a lower shelf--the Devil drew my eyes that way--a bank note. I hardly knew it was a bank note, for I saw but a piece of paper indistinctly in the dim light. I picked it up. Oh, G.o.d! if I hadn't touched it! I looked at it. My heart jumped in my throat and choked me; my head swam. In my ears were strange voices, saying: 'Take it! Put it in your pocket!' Perhaps it was because it was so large--a thousand dollars--perhaps it was because it seemed lost, out of place, I don't know. I had handled thousands and thousands before, and never felt that way.
”The devil voices that were in my ears said: 'This is your chance. Take it, borrow it, no one will know. Bet it on the horse that will surely win, and you will get many thousands; then you can replace it, and for once in your life you will know what it is to have something of your own.'”
”I tried to put it back. I couldn't. The voices called me a fool, a coward. I thought of my mother, my sister, what I could do if I had the courage. I tried to take it in to Mr. Lane and say that I had found it.
I couldn't. Oh, my G.o.d! you don't know what it is to be tempted! You have been successful, and don't know how miserably weak ill-fortune makes a man. I yielded--I took it; then when its loss was discovered, and Mortimer was accused, I tried to confess--I couldn't; I was a coward, a traitor, a Judas. Oh, G.o.d!”
The overwrought man threw himself face down on the table in front of his grim accuser, like a child's broken doll, and wept with great sobs that shook his frame as the wind lashes the waters into turmoil.
An exultation of righteous victory swept through Crane's soul. He might have been like that; he had been saved from it by his love for a good woman. He could not despise the poor broken creature who confessed so abjectly, because all but in deed he also had sinned. The deepest cry of despair from Ca.s.s was because of the sin he had committed against his friend--against Mortimer.
Crane waited until Ca.s.s's misery had exhausted itself a little, and when he spoke his voice was soft in pity.
”I understand. Sit in your chair there and be a man. Half an hour ago I thought you a thief--I don't now. You had your time of weakness, perhaps all men have that; you fell by the wayside. I don't think you'll do it again.”
”No, no, no! I wouldn't go through the h.e.l.l I've lived in again for all the money in the world. And I'm so glad that it is known; I feel relief.”
”Well, it is better that the truth has come out, because everything can be put right. I was going to make you pay back the thousand dollars to Mortimer--I was going to drive you from the bank--I was going to let it be known that you had stolen the money, but now, I must think. You must have another chance. It's a dangerous thing to wreck lives--”
”My G.o.d! it is; that's what haunted me night and day. I felt as though I had murdered a man who had been my friend. I knew he thought young Porter had taken it and was s.h.i.+elding him. The memory of the misery in Mortimer's face at being counted a thief would have stuck to me if I had lived a hundred years.”
Ca.s.s had interrupted Crane. When he ceased again out of exhaustion, Crane proceeded, ”Mortimer must be paid back the money.”
”I'll save and work my fingers off till I do it.”
”You can't. Those dependent upon you would starve. I'll attend to that myself.”
”And you will let me go without--”
”No, you can't go.”
”My G.o.d! I'm to be prosecuted?”
”No, you can stay in the bank. I don't think you'll ever listen to the voices again; it's bad business.”