Part 17 (1/2)

When they had gone, Murray rang for his office-boy.

”You tell Mr. Ross,” he said to the boy, ”to keep out of my way for a few days. I'm not in a mental condition to stand the sight of the man who loaded this trouble on me.”

For the next three days Murray saw as little of his office as he possibly could, fearing another call from Mr. and Mrs. Tucker. Then he learned that they had left again for the West, and he breathed more freely. But, shortly thereafter, a stock-broker called upon him.

”I am commissioned,” said the broker, ”to buy some stock in your company, and I thought possibly you might know of some that is for sale.”

”I do not,” replied Murray. ”As you know, it is not a speculative stock, but is held, for the most part, by conservative investors. A little gets on the market occasionally, when some estate is being settled or some holder becomes financially embarra.s.sed, but that is about your only chance.”

”So my client informed me,” said the broker, ”but he also informed me that he was sure he could get some himself, and he wished me to use every effort to add to his prospective holdings.”

”Mr. Tucker, your client, tried to buy some from me before he left for the West,” said Murray, for he had no doubt as to the ident.i.ty of the man who wanted the stock.

”Indeed!” returned the broker. ”I didn't know that. He explained his anxiety for prompt action by the rather extraordinary statement that he wished to get the stock before somebody foreclosed on his life!”

”By thunder!” cried Murray, ”somebody _will_ foreclose on his life, and take the Limited west to do it, if he keeps this thing up!”

In some amazement, the broker apologized and retired, and Murray began to wonder what would happen to him if Mrs. Tucker ever did get enough of the stock to make her influence felt. Of course, there was little chance of that, but even a small stock-holder could be annoying when so disposed. He began to dream about the Tucker case, and an incidental mention of it in the office would make the atmosphere unpleasant for the day. Every clerk and solicitor understood that it was a dangerous topic.

Once the name ”Tucker” was mentioned in the ordinary course of business, and Murray had things at a fever heat before it could be explained to him that it was another Tucker. Then came a letter from the West, with a Tucker return card on the envelop. A council of war was held before it was delivered to Murray, and even then a time was chosen when he was absent to lay it on his desk. It was very brief-just an announcement that ”the patient” had rallied splendidly after the fatigue of the journey and exhibited ”really wonderful vitality for a sick man.” No one cared to go near Murray all the rest of that day.

Soon after the first of the following month another missive arrived-a mere formal affidavit, headed ”Certificate of Life,” and solemnly averring that ”Ralph Tucker's heart has not ceased to murmur along in the land of the living.” This was followed a month later by a certificate from a physician to the effect that ”a restful ranch life is especially conducive to longevity, and Mr. Tucker's health continues to show all the improvement that can be expected in a man who had nothing the matter with him in the first place.”

These facetious reports continued to arrive at monthly intervals for a period of nearly a year. Usually they were brief, but occasionally the doctor, who seemed to enter into the spirit of the affair, would go into such details as weight, endurance, appet.i.te, lifting power, respiration and-heart murmur. ”The heart,” he wrote at one time, ”seems to be too well satisfied to murmur now, and the patient was able to sit up and eat a large steak to-day, after which a little gentle exercise-about twenty miles on horseback-seemed to do him some good.”

Murray promptly turned this over to the company doctor, and the latter sighed. Almost the only satisfaction in life that Murray had during this time arose from his ability to make the doctor miserable.

”He was not a good risk when I examined him,” the doctor insisted, ”but he may be a good one now. We can't be certain of results in such a case, and the law of probabilities frequently works out wrong. He could not have done a better thing, under the circ.u.mstances, than to go in for a simple, outdoor life. The basis of trouble was there, in my judgment, but it may have been overcome.”

”The basis of trouble is still there,” declared Murray; ”not only the basis of trouble, but the whole blame structure, and it's resting on us.

I can feel the weight.”

”So can I,” replied the doctor disconsolately.

Less than a week after this Tucker telegraphed to know if Murray had changed his mind about disposing of any stock.

”No,” was the reply sent back.

”All right,” Tucker answered. ”I just wanted to give Mrs. Tucker another slice of your company. She has a little of it already.”

Investigation showed that the broker had succeeded in picking up a few shares, but hardly enough to exert any considerable influence. Still, it was disquieting to find the Tuckers so persistent.

”I'll bet,” said Murray, ”that mental worry has put me where you wouldn't pa.s.s me for a risk.”

”If your wife,” returned the doctor, ”is anything like Mrs. Tucker I'd pa.s.s you for any kind of risk rather than incur her displeasure. They'll begin to take a stock-holder's interest in the affairs of this particular office pretty soon.”

”The affairs are in good shape,” declared Murray.

”But a real determined stock-holder can stir up a devil of a rumpus over nothing,” a.s.serted the doctor. ”If she should send all those physicians'

reports to headquarters, they would rather offset my report on which he was turned down, and the company would feel that it had lost a good thing. The company will not stop to think that my report may have been justified by conditions at the time.”