Part 17 (1/2)
”I seldom make mistakes in my judgment of men, Mr. Ridgway,” the oily voice ran on. ”No small share of such success as it has been given me to attain has been due to this instinct for putting my finger on the right man. I am a.s.sured that in you I find one competent for the great work lying before you. The opportunity is waiting; I furnish it, and you the untiring energy of youth to make the most of the chance.” His wolfish smile bared the tusks for a moment. ”I find myself not so young as I was. The great work I have started is well under way. I must trust its completion to younger and stronger hands than mine. I intend to rest, to devote myself to my home, more directly to such philanthropic and educational work as G.o.d has committed to my hands.”
The Westerner gave him look for look, his eyes burning to get over the impa.s.se of the expressionless mask no man had ever penetrated. He began to see why n.o.body had ever understood Harley. He knew there would be no rest for that consuming energy this side of the grave. Yet the man talked as if he believed his own glib lies.
”Consolidated is the watchword of the age; it means elimination of ruinous compet.i.tion, and consequent harmony and reduced expense in management. Mr. Ridgway, may I count you with us? Together we should go far. Do you say peace or war?”
The younger man rose, leaning forward with his strong, sinewy hands gripping the table. His face was pale with the repression of a rage that had been growing intense. ”I say war, and without quarter. I don't believe you can beat me. I defy you to the test. And if you should--even then I had rather go down fighting you than win at your side.”
Simon Harley had counted acceptance a foregone conclusion, but he never winked a lash at the ringing challenge of his opponent. He met his defiance with an eye cold and steady as jade.
”As you please, Mr. Ridgway. I wash my hands of your ruin, and when you are nothing but a broken gambler, you will remember that I offered you the greatest chance that ever came to a man of your age. You are one of those men, I see, that would rather be first in h.e.l.l than second in heaven. So be it.” He rose and b.u.t.toned his overcoat.
”Say, rather, that I choose to go to h.e.l.l my own master and not as the slave of Simon Harley,” retorted the Westerner bitterly.
Ridgway's eyes blazed, but those of the New Yorker were cool and fishy.
”There is no occasion for dramatics,” he said, the cruel, pa.s.sionless smile at his thin lips. ”I make you a business proposition and you decline it. That is all. I wish you good day.”
The other strode past him and flung the door open. He had never before known such a pa.s.sion of hatred as raged within him. Throughout his life Simon Harley had left in his wake wreckage and despair. He was the best-hated man of his time, execrated by the working cla.s.ses, despised by the country at large, and distrusted by his fellow exploiters. Yet, as a business opponent, Ridgway had always taken him impersonally, had counted him for a condition rather than an individual. But with the new influence that had come into his life, reason could not reckon, and when it was dominant with him, Harley stood embodied as the wolf ready to devour his ewe lamb.
For he couldn't get away from her. Wherever he went he carried with him the picture of her sweet, shy smile, her sudden winsome moments, the deep light in her violet eyes; and in the background the sinister bared fangs of the wild beast d.o.g.g.i.ng her patiently, and yet lovingly.
CHAPTER 11. VIRGINIA INTERVENES
James K. Mott, local chief attorney for the Consolidated, was struggling with a white tie before the gla.s.s and crumpling it atrociously.
”This dress-suit habit is the most pernicious I know. It's sapping the liberties of the American people,” he grunted at last in humorous despair.
”Let me, dear.”
His wife tied it with neatness and dispatch, and returned to the inspection of how her skirt hung.
”Mr. Harley asked me to thank you for calling on his wife. He says she gets lonesome during the day while he is away so much. I was wondering if you couldn't do something for her so that she could meet some of the ladies of Mesa. A luncheon, or something of that sort, you know. Have you seen my hat-brush anywhere?”
”It's on that drawer beside your hat-box. She told me she would rather not. I suggested it. But I'll tell you what I could do: take Virginia Balfour round to see her. She's lively and good company, and knows some of the people Mrs. Harley knows.”
”That's a good idea. I want Harley to know that we appreciate his suggestions, and are ready to do our part. He has shown a disposition to consult me on a good many things that ought to lie in Hobart's sphere rather than mine. Something's going to drop. Now, I like Hobart, but I want to show myself in a receptive mood for advancement when his head falls, as it certainly will soon.”
Virginia responded eagerly to Mrs. Mott's suggestion that they call together on Mrs. Harley at the hotel.
”My dear, you have saved my life. I've been dying of curiosity, and I haven't been able to find vestige of an excuse to hang my call on. I couldn't ask Mr. Ridgway to introduce me, could I?”
”No, I don't see that you could,” smiled Mrs. Mott, a motherly little woman with pleasant brown eyes. ”I suppose Mr. Ridgway isn't exactly on calling terms with Mr. Harley's wife, even if he did save her life.”
”Oh, Mr. Ridgway isn't the man to let a little thing like a war a outrance stand in the way of his social duties, especially when those duties happen to be inclinations, too. I understand he DID call the evening of their arrival here.”
”He didn't!” screamed Mrs. Mott, who happened to possess a voice of the normal national register. ”And what did Mr. Harley say?”
”Ah, that's what one would like to know. My informant deponeth not beyond the fact unadorned. One may guess there must have been undercurrents of embarra.s.sment almost as p.r.o.nounced as if the President were to invite his Ananias Club to a pink tea. I can imagine Mr. Harley saying: 'Try this cake, Mr. Ridgway; it isn't poisoned;' and Mr.