Part 37 (2/2)
”And palaces,” I added.
”And palaces,” a.s.sented he. ”Every vast fortune is a monument to the credulity of man. Instead of getting after these heavy-laden rascals, Matthew, you'd better have turned your attention to the public that has made rascals of them by leaving its property unguarded.”
Fortunately, Edmunds had held out, or, rather, Langdon had delayed approaching him, long enough for me to gain my main point. The uproar over the Textile Trust had become so great that the national Department of Commerce dared not refuse an investigation; and I straightway began to spread out in my daily letters the facts of the Trust's enormous earnings and of the shameful sources of those earnings. Thanks to Langdon's political pull, the president appointed as investigator one of those rascals who carefully build themselves good reputations to enable them to charge higher prices for dirty work. But, with my facts before the people, whitewash was impossible.
I was expecting emissaries from Langdon, for I knew he must now be actually in straits. Even the Universal Life didn't dare lend him money; and was trying to call in the millions it had loaned him. But I was astounded when my private door opened and Mrs. Langdon ushered herself in.
”Don't blame your boy, Mr. Blacklock,” cried she gaily, exasperatingly confident that I was as delighted with her as she was with herself. ”I told him you were expecting me and didn't give him a chance to stop me.”
I a.s.sumed she had come to give me wholly undeserved thanks for revenging her upon her recreant husband. I tried to look civil and courteous, but I felt that my face was darkening--her very presence forced forward things I had been keeping in the far background of my mind, ”How can I be of service to you, Madam?” said I.
”I bring you good news,” she replied--and I noted that she no longer looked haggard and wretched, that her beauty was once more smiling with a certain girlishness, like a young widow's when she finds her consolation. ”Mowbray and I have made it up,” she explained.
I simply listened, probably looking as grim as I felt.
”I knew you would be interested,” she went on. ”Indeed, it means almost as much to you as to me. It brings peace to _two_ families.”
Still I did not relax.
”And so,” she continued, a little uneasy, ”I came to you immediately.”
I continued to listen, as if I were waiting for her to finish and depart.
”If you want, I'll go to Anita.” Natural feminine tact would have saved her from this rawness; but, convinced that she was a ”great lady” by the flattery of servants and shopkeepers and sensational newspapers and social climbers, she had discarded tact as worthy only of the lowly and of the aspiring before they ”arrive.”
”You are too kind,” said I. ”Mrs. Blacklock and I feel competent to take care of our own affairs.”
”Please, Mr. Blacklock,” she said, realizing that she had blundered, ”don't take my directness the wrong way. Life is too short for pose and pretense about the few things that really matter. Why shouldn't we be frank with each other?”
”I trust you will excuse me,” said I, moving toward the door--I had not seated myself when she did. ”I think I have made it clear that we have nothing to discuss.”
”You have the reputation of being generous and too big for hatred. That is why I have come to you,” said she, her expression confirming my suspicion of the real and only reason for her visit. ”Mowbray and I are completely reconciled--_completely_, you understand. And I want you to be generous, and not keep on with this attack. I am involved even more than he. He has used up his fortune in defending mine. Now, you are simply trying to ruin me--not him, but _me_. The president is a friend of Mowbray's, and he'll call off this horrid investigation, and everything'll be all right, if you'll only stop.”
”Who sent you here?” I asked.
”I came of my own accord,” she protested. Then, realizing from the sound of her voice that she could not have convinced me with a tone so unconvincing, she hedged with: ”It was my own suggestion, really it was.”
”Your husband permitted _you_ to come--and to _me_?”
She flushed.
”And you have accepted his overtures when you knew he made them only because he needed your money?”
She hung her head. ”I love him,” she said simply. Then she looked straight at me and I liked her expression. ”A woman has no false pride when love is at stake,” she said. ”We leave that to you men.”
<script>