Part 7 (1/2)

”_And_ an education,” said Judge Barklay.

”And a gold-mine for us--in just one little year. We could do it; I _know_ we could.”

”And if the stupid fool who's had it this last year could make money out of it,” added the Judge, ”and you used any intelligence on it, you'd come out ahead. John made up his figures very carefully. That's the kind of man he was.”

Henry stared at them alternately. ”But if I _did_ fall down--”

”Henry!” The Judge was using a professional gesture. ”What do you suppose your time is worth, at its present market value? Don't you think you can afford to risk a year of it against half a million dollars?”

”But when I've practically closed with Mix--”

”Sign any agreement?”

”No, he's having one typed.”

The judge breathed in relief. ”You're lucky. You'd lose money if you took a third interest for a gift, and if you took _all_ of it as a gift you'd lose three times as much. Because you'd have to a.s.sume your share of his liabilities. People think he's got money, but he hasn't; he's broke. He must have picked you for a life preserver.”

Henry's jaw dropped. ”What makes you think so?”

”I don't think so; I _know_ so. Oh, he's pretty s.h.i.+fty on his feet, and he's got a good many people hoodwinked--your uncle always gave him too much credit, incidentally--but his New York correspondents happened to be clients of mine when I was practising law, and they've both asked me about him and told me about him, inside of the last six weeks.”

Henry sat unblinking ”Is that--a fact!”

”And if you wanted to sell out,” continued the Judge, with a trifle of asperity, ”why on earth didn't you go to Bob Standish? Why didn't you go to an expert? And why didn't you have an audit made of Mix's company--why didn't you get a little information--why didn't you know what you were buying? Oh, it isn't too late, if you haven't signed anything, but--Henry, it looks to me as if you need a guardian!”

At the sight of his face, Anna went over to him, and perched on the arm of his chair. ”That's enough, Dad.... _I_'m his guardian; aren't I, dear? And he's just upset and dizzy and I don't blame him a bit. We won't say another word about it; we've told him what we think; and tonight he can have a long talk with Bob. You'd want to do that, wouldn't you, Henry? Of course you would. You wish you'd done it before. You're feeling awfully ashamed of yourself for being so hasty.

_And_ sn.o.bbish. I know you.”

Henry looked across at the Judge. ”Might as well have my brains where my hair is, mightn't I? She sees it just as easy.... All right; we'll let the whole thing ride 'till I've seen Bob.”

His friend Standish, gazing with childlike solemnity out of his big blue eyes, listened to both sides of the story, and to Henry's miscalculation, at no time during the recital did he laugh uproariously, or exclaim compa.s.sionately, or indicate that he shared any of Henry's conclusions:

”Oh, yes,” he said, ”people might giggle a bit. But they always giggle at a man's first shot at business, anyway. Like his first pair of long trousers. It's done. But how many times will they do it? A thousand?

Ten thousand? A hundred thousand? At maybe seven dollars a giggle? For less than that, I'd be a comedian. I'd be a contortionist. I'd be a pie-thrower. Henry, old rubbish, you do what they tell you to.”

”Would you do it if you were in my place?”

”Would I lie down like a yellow dog, and let people say I hadn't sand enough to stop a wrist.w.a.tch?”

”I know, but Bob--the Orpheum!”

”I know, but Henry--don't you sort of owe it to Mr. Starkweather? You wouldn't have put on this milk-fed expression if he'd soaked it to you himself, would you?”

At this precise instant, Henry was required on the telephone. It was his Aunt Mirabelle; and even if he had been dining with royalty, she would still have called him--if she could have got the address.

”Henry,” she said acidly. ”I've just found out what kind of a building it was your uncle deeded you. Theodore Mix told me. _I_ didn't know your uncle was ever messed up in that kind of a thing. He never told me. Good reason he didn't, too. I certainly hope you aren't going to spread this news around town, Henry--it's scandalous enough to have it in the family, even. Of all the h.e.l.lish influences we've got to contend with in this day and generation--”

”Well,” said Henry, ”it isn't any of it _my_ fault, is it?”