Part 17 (1/2)
”No--not yet.” Marie choked up. ”The firm has an idea that his friends may help him restore the money, and they won't prosecute if he can make the loss good. He has been hoping to get help out there among his wife's people, but has failed. The time is nearly up--only two days left, and I--My G.o.d, do you think I can live after that boy is put in jail? It has made a fiend of me, for if I hadn't taken up with you I would have gone to Texas with him and it might not have happened. There is a streak of bad blood in our family. My father was none too good. He was like you, able to dodge the law, that's all. But poor Hal didn't cover his tracks.”
”Stop, Marie!” Mostyn demanded, in rising anger. ”What do you mean by mentioning _me_ in that sort of connection?”
”Humph! What do I mean? Well, I mean that men say--oh, I've heard them talk! I don't have to tell you who said it, but I have heard them say if you hadn't broken old Mr. Henderson all to pieces several years ago you'd never have been where you are to-day.”
”You don't understand that, Marie,” Mostyn answered, impatiently.
”Henderson took it to court, and the decision was--”
”Oh, I know!” She tossed her head. ”Your lawyers pulled you through for a rake-off, and the Henderson girls went to work. They live in a shabby little four-room house not far from here. I often see them at the wash-tub in the back yard. The old man hates you like a snake, and so do the girls. I can't blame them. When you get down in the very dregs through dealing with a person you learn how to hate. The thing stays in the mind night and day till it festers like a boil and you want to even up some way.”
”Marie, listen to me,” Mostyn began, desperately deliberate. ”Why can't we come to an agreement? You want to help your brother out of his trouble, I am sure. Now, that is a big amount of money, as you know, and even a banker can't always get up ready funds in such quant.i.ties as that, but suppose I give it to you?”
”You--you give it to me?” she stammered, incredulously, her lips falling apart, her white teeth showing. ”Why, you said, not a month ago, that you were too hard pushed for money even to--”
”This is different,” he broke in. ”Through your conduct you are actually driving me to the wall and I am desperate. I am ready to make this proposition to you. I will get up that money. I'll send you a draft for it to-day provided--provided, Marie, that you solemnly agree not to disturb me at all in the future.”
”Do you really mean it?” She leaned forward, eagerly. ”Because--because if you _don't_ you ought not to mention it. I'd cut off my hands and feet to save that dear boy.”
”I mean it,” he answered, firmly. ”But this time you must keep your promise, and, no matter what I do in the future, you must not molest me.”
”I am willing, d.i.c.k. I agree. I love you--I really do, but from now on you may go your way and I'll go mine. I swear it. May I--may I telegraph Hal that--”
”Yes, telegraph him that the money is on the way to him,” Mostyn said.
Marie sank into a chair opposite him and rested her tousled head on her crossed arms. A trembling sob escaped her, and she looked up. He saw tears filling her eyes. ”After all, I may not be so very, very bad,”
she said, ”for this will be a merciful act, and it comes through my knowing you.”
”But it must be the end, Marie,” he urged, firmly. ”It is costing me more than you can know, but I must positively be free.”
”I know it,” she answered. ”I will let you alone, d.i.c.k. You may marry--you may do as you like from now on.”
”Then it is positively settled,” he said, a new light flaring in his eyes. ”For good and all, we understand each other.”
”Yes, for good and all,” she repeated, her glance on the floor.
A moment later he was in the street. The sun had never shown more brightly, the sky had never seemed so fathomless and blue. He inhaled a deep breath. He felt as if he were swimming through the air.
”Free, free!” he chuckled, ”free at last!”
Reaching the bank, he was about to enter when he met, coming out, a dark, straight-haired, beardless young man who promptly grasped his hand. It was Alan Delbridge.
”h.e.l.lo!” Delbridge said, with a laugh. ”Glad to see you back. You look better. The wild woods have put new life in you. I knew you'd come as soon as the Mitch.e.l.ls got home.”
”It wasn't that,” Mostyn said, lamely.
”Oh, of course not,” Delbridge laughed. ”You were not at all curious to learn the particulars of the old chap's big deal--oh no, you are not that sort! A hundred or two thousand to the credit of a fellow's fiancee doesn't amount to anything with a plunger like you.”
Mostyn laid a hesitating hand on the shoulder of the other.
”Say, Delbridge,” he faltered, ”this sort of thing has gone far enough.
I am not engaged to the young lady in question, and--”