Part 75 (2/2)

He roared and rocked for another interval. Still Martha did not speak, nor even smile. She was not looking at him, but at the braided rug beneath her feet, and he could not see the expression of her face.

”I may as well explain now,” he went on, when this particular laugh was over, ”that my friend Williams is one of the leading hotel men of this country. He owns two very big hotels in Florida and one in the Tennessee mountains. He has for some time been looking for a site on which to build another here on the northern coast. He was down this way a while ago and, quite by accident, he discovered this sh.o.r.e property which, he found out later, was owned by the Wellmouth Development Company. It was ideal, according to his estimate--view, harbor, water privileges, still water and surf bathing, climate--everything. He came to me and we discussed buying it. Then we discovered that this Development Company owned it. Fifty thousand dollars, the concern's capitalization, was too much to pay. A trust company over here in your next town had twelve hundred shares, but we found out that they knew the value of the property and, if they learned what we were up to, would hold for a fancy price. So, through this chap Pulcifer--we bought HIS five hundred shares--we began buying up the thirteen hundred which would give us a controlling interest and force the other crowd to do what we wanted. We picked up the small holdings easily enough, but we couldn't get yours or Hallett's. And for a very good reason, too. Ho, ho, ho! And old Loosh, of all people! Ho, ho!”

Still Miss Phipps did not laugh, nor did she look at him. ”By the way,”

he observed, ”I presume my--er--relative paid you a fair price for the stock, Miss Phipps?”

”He paid me twenty dollars a share,” she said, quietly.

”Did he, indeed! Well, that is more than we've paid any one else, except Pulcifer. We allowed him a commission--a margin--on all he succeeded in buying.... Humph!... And I suppose Galusha paid old Hallett par, too.

But why he should do such a thing is--well, it is beyond me.”

She answered, but still she did not look at him.

”He told you,” she said. ”He knew I needed money. I was foolish enough to let him guess--yes, I told him that I had a hard time to get along.

He was interested and he tried to cheer me up by tellin' me he thought you might buy that stock of mine. He couldn't have been more interested if it had been somethin' of his own. No, not nearly so much; he and his own interests are the last thing he thinks about, I guess. And then he kept cheerin' me up and pretendin' to be more and more sure you would buy and--and when he found you wouldn't he--but there, he told us the truth. _I_ understand why he did it, Mr. Cabot.”

The banker shook his head. ”Well, I suppose I do, too, in a way,” he said. ”It is because he is Galusha Bangs. n.o.body else on earth would think of doing such a thing.”

”No, n.o.body else would. But thirteen thousand dollars, Mr. Cabot! Why, that's dreadful! It's awful! He must have used every cent he owns, and I didn't suppose he owned any, scarcely. Oh, Mr. Cabot, I must pay him back; I must pay him right away. DO you want to buy that stock he bought? Will you buy it of him, so he can have his money again?”

She was looking at him now and her voice was shaking with anxiety. Cabot laughed once more.

”Delighted, Miss Phipps,” he a.s.sured her. ”That is what I have been trying to do for a month or more. But don't worry about old Galusha's going broke. He--why, what is it?”

”Oh, nothin'. I was thinkin' about what he did and--and--”

”Yes, I know. Isn't it amazing? I have known him all my life, but I'm never sure how he will fly off the handle next. Of course, I realize you must think him a perfect jacka.s.s, an idiot--”

”What! Think him WHAT?”

”An idiot, an imbecile. Nine people out of ten, those who don't know him well, do consider him just that. Yet he isn't. In some respects he is a mighty clever man. In his own line, in this musty-dusty museum business of his, this Egyptology he is so cracked about, he is really very close to the top. Geographic societies all over the world have given him medals; he is--why, if he wished to he could write a string of letters after his name a yard long. I believe--hang it, it sounds absurd, but I believe he has been--er--knighted or something like it, in one heathenish little kingdom. And in Was.h.i.+ngton there, at the Inst.i.tute, they swear by him.”

She nodded. ”They have just made him a wonderful offer to be the head of another expedition,” she said.

”So? Well, I am not surprised. But in most respects, outside of his mummy-chasing, he is an absolute a.s.s. Money? Why, he would give away every cent if it occurred to him to do so. HE wouldn't know nor care.

And what might become of him afterward he wouldn't care, either. If it wasn't that I watch him and try to keep his money out of his hands, I don't know what would happen. Kind? Yes, of course. And generous; good Lord! But when it comes to matters of sentiment like--well, like this stock business for example, he is, as I say, an a.s.s, that's all.... I am telling you this, Miss Phipps, because I wouldn't wish you to consider old Loosh altogether a fool, but only--”

He was sitting there, his knee in his hands, gazing blandly at the ceiling and, in judicial fas.h.i.+on, summing up his relative's failings and virtues, when he was interrupted. And the interruption was a startling one. Martha Phipps sprang to her feet and faced him, her cheeks crimson and her eyes flas.h.i.+ng.

”Oh, how dare you!” she cried, with fiery indignation. ”How CAN you?

You sit there and talk about him and--and call him names in that--that condescendin' way as if he was dirt under our feet and yet--and yet he's as far above us as the sky is. Oh, how can you! Don't you see how good he is? Don't you SEE how he's sufferin' now, poor soul, and why? You say he doesn't care for money; of course he doesn't. If it had cost fifty thousand and he had it, I suppose he'd have used it just the same if he thought it would help--help some friend of his out of trouble. But what is tearin' him to pieces is the idea that he has, as he calls it, cheated ME. That he has lied to Jethro and to me and hasn't been the same straight, honest--GENTLEMAN he always is. That's all. HE doesn't give himself credit for takin' his own money to help other folks with.

YOU would, _I_ would, but HE doesn't. He talks as if he'd robbed us, or--or killed somebody or somethin'. He is the best--yes, I think he is the best and finest soul that ever breathed. And you sit there and--swing your foot and--and patronize--and call him a fool. A FOOL!...

I--I mustn't talk any more or--or I'll say somethin' I'll wish I hadn't.... Good-night, Mr. Cabot.”

She had held her handkerchief tightly crumpled in her hand during this outburst. Now she dabbed hastily with it at either eye, turned and hastened into the dining room, closing the door behind her.

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