Part 27 (1/2)

And Riatt found himself answering almost in the word of Cyrano:

”_Non, non, mon cher amour, je ne vous aimais pas_.”

The days that followed were the happiest that Riatt had ever known. Only those who have lived in a brief and agreeable present can understand the fullness of joy that he was able to extract from it. If he had been under sentence of death he could not have given less thought to the future. He gave himself up wholly to the two excitements of making love and losing money.

At first he prospered more at the former than the latter. For at first, for some time after he had acquired the stock of the mine, the reports from it grew more and more favorable and old friends came to him and begged him to allow them to take up a little of it. His curt refusal to all such propositions increased the impression that he knew he had a very good thing and meant to keep it all for himself.

But he did not have very long to wait for the turn of the tide. Within a few weeks he received a letter from Welsley, alarming only because its intention was so obviously to allay alarm. It appeared that a liberal revolution was threatened; the concession from the government then in power would not bear the scrutiny of an impartial witness such as our own State Department. If, in other words, the present government fell, the concession would fall, too.

”However,” Welsley wrote cheerfully, ”though the revolution has the support of the uneducated element of the population, which comprises most of the people, as they have neither arms, ammunition nor money, they can't do much, unless some fool in the north is induced to finance them.

You could help us a lot by looking about and seeing if there is any danger of such a thing.”

On receipt of this, Riatt instantly telegraphed to Welsley as follows:

”Count upon me. What is the name and address of the revolutionary agent here?”

The next day in a back bedroom of a down-town hotel, $10,000 changed hands between a slight, dark, very finished gentleman who spoke English with the slightest possible accent, and a tall, fine-looking young American whose name never appeared in the transaction. Within a month a s.h.i.+pment of arms had been smuggled into a certain South American country, with the result that the revolution was completely successful--as indeed it deserved to be. One of the first acts of the new government was to revoke the iniquitous concession of the San Pedro gold mine, made to ”a group of greedy North American capitalists by the former corrupt and evil administration.”

Riatt's bearing during this unhappy experience was universally praised.

As he went in and out of his broker's office, not a trace of anxiety visible upon his countenance, men would nudge each other and whisper, ”Did you ever see such nerve? He stands to lose a million.”

The only moment of regret that he suffered was when one day, when things first began to look badly, he met Linburne and another man in Wall Street, and there was something subtly insulting and triumphant in the former's manner of condoling with him about the situation.

Rumors of it reached Christine. She liked the picture of Riatt's courage and calm, and hated the danger of his losing money.

”You're not risking too much, are you, Max?” she asked.

”Wouldn't you enjoy love in a cottage, Christine?” he answered.

She tried to make it clear to him how little such a prospect would tempt her, and gathered from the fact that he hardly listened to her reply that he felt confident there was no real danger.

With the success of the revolution, Riatt realized that his holiday was over, that he must tell Christine the truth and then retire to his old home and begin a new method of life on his decreased income.

It was now early April--a warm advanced spring--when he decided that the next day should see the end of his little drama. But, as we all know, it sometimes happens that those who set a mine are the most startled by the explosion; and Riatt, at an early breakfast (for he and Christine were going into the country for the day), with a mind occupied with the phrases in which he should bid her good-by and eyes lazily reading the newspaper, was suddenly startled beyond words by a short paragraph on the financial page. This stated in the baldest terms the failure of his brokers at home.

There was no country expedition for Riatt that day. He rushed down-town, leaving a short message for Christine, and by night he knew the worst, knew that the liabilities of the firm far exceeded any possible a.s.sets, knew positively that the comfortable sum he had intended to preserve for himself had been swept away, knew that he now really had to begin life over.

That night when he came back to his hotel, he understood for the first time that he had throughout been cheris.h.i.+ng an unrecognized hope; that he had not been honest with himself, and that all the time beneath his great scheme had lain the belief that when the truth was known Christine would prefer him and his moderate income to Linburne and his wealth; that, in short, the great scheme had been all the time not a method of freeing himself, but a test of her affection.

Now any such possibility was over. Now he himself was facing the problem of mere existence--at least he would be as soon as he had collected his wits enough to face anything.

The next day, which was Sunday, he spent entirely with his lawyer. When he came back to his hotel, between the entrance and the elevator a figure rose in his path. It was Hickson.

”Riatt, I'm awfully sorry about this,” he said.

”Thank you, Hickson. It's very decent of you to be,” Max answered as cordially as he could, but he was tired and wanted to be let alone, and there was not as much real grat.i.tude in his heart as there should have been. He did not ask Ned to sit down until he had explained with his accustomed simplicity that he had something of importance to say. Then Riatt let him lead the way to one of those remote and stuffy sitting-rooms in which all hotels abound. He saw at once that Hickson found it difficult to say what he had come to say, but Riatt was in no humor this time to help him out.

”I'm awfully sorry this has happened,” Hickson went on, ”not only on your account, but on Christine's. I mean that I did begin to hope that life with you meant peace and happiness for her--”