"'We, the undersigned citizens of San Francisco, do hereby enroll ourselves as a General Committee of Safety, subject to the requirements of the Special Committee of Twenty-Four, of which William T. Coleman, Esq., is President, and we do hereby bind ourselves to act with the committee to preserve the peace and well-being of the city with our money and persons.'"You will be given directions where to assemble, and what duties you are to perform. I hope no able-bodied citizen will fail to give us his services and support."At a significant gesture from the president, these solid men of the city crowded about the secretary to sign their names, and the Committee of Safety was born.CHAPTER XXIVTHE JUSTICE OF BIG SAM"You seem to have done a good day's work," was Miss Kendrick's comment on my brief account of the commercial struggle, "and you'll make a business man yet if you keep on. I wish you could tell uncle about it, but he's still unconscious." And her lip trembled at the sudden remembrance of Wharton Kendrick's peril, until I thought for the moment that she was going to burst into tears. But she commanded herself, and continued in steady voice: "And now that you've done so well, I'll give one of those reward-of-merit cards you used to get in school. It came this afternoon, and I'm dying to know what's in it." And she brought out a letter addressed in fine Spencerian copperplate script to "Mr. Hampden, the Lawyer of Mr. Kendrick's House on Van Ness Avenue, San Francisco."I read the address with some wonder, and Laura Kendrick continued:"Moon Ying says that funny little sign up in the corner is Big Sam's seal; but he surely never wrote that remarkable address. I suppose it is by one of his clerks."At this, I hastily opened the envelope, and found within a formal note:Kwan Sam Suey requests the pleasure of Mr. Hampden's company, at his office in Waverly Place, this evening, at as early an hour as convenient.I passed the note over to Miss Kendrick."It looks as though there was going to be a party," she said, "or a supper at the very least. I hope you won't overeat--or worse.""Big Sam has never suggested such an idea as eating or drinking, though I don't put it beyond him. But he surely hasn't picked out this season of alarms to give a reception. So if you'll excuse me, I'll run down to his place. It may be something important.""Of course you must go--and you must come back, too. I'm sure I can't sleep till I know what it's about. I shall be up most of the night, and so will Mercy; so you needn't have qualms about ringing the bell, even if you are later than late. There will be somebody to let you in.""As I'd rather be here than anywhere else, I shan't miss the chance to come back," I said boldly.She ignored my words, and evaded my devouring glances, and with a sage nod suggested that the sooner I was on my way, the sooner I should have a chance to come back.As I went down the steps I was stricken with a jealous pang to see Mr. Baldwin coming up with the air of a conquering army. He gave me a cool "Good evening," and then asked, in his most superior manner, if I were on my way to stir my friends to further exertions."I have but one object in life," I returned in a confidential tone, "and that is to put your particular friend and client inside four stone walls where he can't do any more harm. And you can tell Mr. Bolton so with my compliments, too."From his muttered response, I gathered that my reminder of his connection with Peter Bolton did not give him unalloyed pleasure, and pleased with the consciousness that I had given more than I had received in the way of irritation, I went my way to Chinatown.There were abundant signs of unrest in both the white and the yellow city. Bands of hoodlums still ranged the streets, and fought runaway actions with the police. Householders seemed in fear, and windows that were customarily cheerful with lights now looked with darkened shades upon the streets.Chinatown was as forbidding as on the night of my last visit, and such lights as were to be seen shone through closed shutters and barred doors. But despite the atmosphere of sullen hostility that lay like a fog upon the district, I made my way without interference to Waverly Place and rapped on Big Sam's door. My name secured prompt admittance. The door was unbarred for a moment for my entrance, and promptly barred once more, and I was led through a crowd of sullen, hostile-faced hatchet-men to Big Sam's reception-hall.The King of Chinatown sat by his desk in his flowing robes of state, but rose and offered me his hand as I entered."I thank you for your prompt attention, Mr. Hampden," he said, motioning me courteously to a high-backed chair at his side. I thought I could detect a trace of worry in his eyes, but his face was as impassive as ever."I am flattered to receive your invitation.""It is not an idle one.""I should be slow to believe so--especially after the prompt fulfilment of your last prophecy.""You have the eye of the reader of thoughts," said Big Sam with a faint smile. "You speak of the very point I wish to ask about. I note by the papers that you were attacked--or Mr. Kendrick, to be accurate.""Oh, I was fortunate enough to share in it," I said nonchalantly."Hardly a matter for congratulation, Mr. Hampden. Kindly let me know what happened. Was it by my people, or--"He paused, and I replied:"We were attacked in front by the anti-Chinese mob, three hundred or more strong, and in the rear by a score or so of ruffians that I have reason to suppose were hired by your people.""I should be obliged for your reasons.""They are at your service." And I gave the accumulated facts from Little John's attempt to drag away the Chinese girl, to Danny Regan's identification by Moon Ying.As I set forth my tale, a certain fire of rage kindled in Big Sam's face without disturbing the impassivity of his features. He seemed to grow larger, and I could understand how great monarchs cause men to tremble by something more than the physical forces at their command. Some subtle force irradiated from the man, and only a strong will could refuse to yield to the fear that he inspired.As I ended my tale, he muttered, "The dogs--to violate their word--to cross my orders--to risk everything at this crisis!"Then he clapped his hands, and two men appeared, and after a few words vanished."I hope you will not object if I detain you for a time," said Big Sam, relaxing something of his anger."Not at all, if I can be of service.""You mean that you would not stay as a social diversion," he said with a faint smile. "Well, you can be of service, Mr. Hampden, and permit me in the interval to offer you the hospitalities that should pass between friends." He gave his hands another clap, and in a moment a servant entered bearing a tray with a teapot and cups, and placed it before Big Sam. My host poured the tea as I exclaimed at the beauty of the porcelain in the highly decorated pot and the thin cups."I presume you prefer sugar and milk," said Big Sam, hesitating.If I had possessed an insatiable appetite for these luxuries, the note of scorn in his voice would have forbidden me to confess it. But I had been dealing with Chinese clients long enough, and had drunk tea enough in Chinese fashion, to make it a matter of indifference to me, and I gave him a cheerful negative."What an exquisite flavor!" I exclaimed, as I sipped from the dainty cups. "Where do you get such tea?""I have it brought over by a special agent. It is not such as you can buy in the stores. That you may realize that you do not see all of China in the externals we present in San Francisco, I will remind you that you consider that you get a very good tea when you pay two dollars a pound for it. It is a good tea. But this that you are drinking costs eighty dollars a pound in China. You see we have a few luxuries--possibly some that you would not recognize. This is the tea of the gods, and I am pleased to see that you do not profane its flavor." The servant had brought in another tray, and Big Sam pressed me to eat of some preserved fish, which he praised more highly than I thought it deserved, and a fowl deliciously cooked with strange seasonings, ending with Chinese sweetmeats and a dash of fine Chinese brandy. I ate without hesitation, for all my suspicion of Chinese dishes, for I could believe that the man who drank tea at eighty dollars a pound would have nothing below the best.And as we ate, Big Sam questioned me with a devouring curiosity of my views on the relations of China and the United States, on the future of the Orient, on the possible waking of China, on the destiny of the races, on the results of the anti-Chinese agitation; and though he gave little expression to his own views, he let drop many statesmanlike observations that showed how deeply he had thought upon these problems. Then at a sound from without, he had the trays cleared away, and the look of stern anger came back to his face."Now, Mr. Hampden, is the time for your assistance," he said. "I did not, as you may assume, invite you here to talk politics. That pleasure might have waited till a less troubled time. Matters of more importance await us. With your kind permission, we shall hold a high court of justice."I had ceased to be astonished at anything that might happen in Big Sam's apartments. I bowed assent, and at a sharp rap on the desk, a score or more of sullen-faced Chinese entered, and formed in line along the walls. Apparently they bore no arms, but I judged from their expression that they belonged to the notorious hatchet-men, and carried all the paraphernalia of war under their loose blouses. Then entered two men of stern aspect, who walked with an air of command, and after greeting Big Sam they were introduced to me as the presidents of the Sare Bo and the See Yung tongs and were given seats beside us. Then at a curt order from Big Sam, another door opened, and two men entered dragging a protesting prisoner between them.It was Little John, and by the fear that gleamed in his eyes and set his chin a-tremble, his forecast of the judgment of the high court of justice was most grave. He dropped to his knees, as he was dragged in front of the desk and made to face us, and beat his forehead on the floor with exclamations of protest and appeals for mercy. At a word from Big Sam the guards brought him to his feet, and Big Sam spoke briefly in Chinese. Then he turned to me."Is this the man, Mr. Hampden?""I have no doubt it is," I responded."Please repeat your story to these men," and he indicated the two Chinese presidents who looked with stern, impassive faces upon the trembling wretch before us."You will understand that this is not evidence," I said. "It is nothing that could be received in court, as I speak for the most part by hearsay.""Proceed," said Big Sam. "Our justice is not pinioned in the bonds of your rules of evidence." And I repeated the account of the first visit of Little John, of his attempt to capture Moon Ying, of the assault on the Kendrick house by Danny Regan's ruffians, and Regan's identification by Moon Ying as Little John's expressman. From time to time Big Sam acted as interpreter, though in the main the Chinese appeared to understand me well enough.The prisoner shook as with an ague at my disclosures, and his coarse goatee fluttered in sympathy with his flying heart. A few questions were put to him, and after admitting that he had visited the Kendrick place, he turned to denial, and became glib in his own defense. Big Sam translated to me in an undertone, and I could feel the anger in his voice rising higher and higher at each prevarication. At last Big Sam sprang to his feet, and pointing at me, thundered a question at Little John.Little John hesitated, stumbled in his speech, hastily denied his words, then stopped and looked about him with evident realization that he was lost; and with a scream of terror he would have fallen had not the guards caught him and brought him roughly to his feet."Mr. Hampden, what shall be done with this man?" asked Big Sam."I have a warrant out for his arrest for disturbing the peace. I'm afraid I haven't evidence enough to satisfy our courts on a higher charge.""Well, this court is satisfied--you believe him guilty, Mr. Hampden?""He is certainly guilty of attempted abduction."He apparently put the same question to the two stern-faced men beside us, and they gave assent in brief phrases."The court is unanimous," said Big Sam. "Guilty of attempted abduction, violation of the bargain between the tongs, sacrificing the interests of his race to the interest of his tong by challenging the white vengeance. What should the penalty be, Mr. Hampden?""I think in our court he would get two years for the attempted abduction, assuming that he was convicted.""A mild punishment, Mr. Hampden. I do not wonder that crime flourishes in your country with justice so feeble. But we have no prisons at our command. Death or exile or fine--these are the punishments we can enforce."I shuddered at his words and tone, but it seemed impossible that we were discussing more than a theoretical case."Do you mean to say that our judgment will be carried out?" I cried."Certainly. An example is necessary; an offense has been committed; the guilty is before us for sentence.""I should be satisfied with exile," I said, as Big Sam's eye demanded my choice.He spoke to the two stern-faced men beside us, and at their answer turned to me."All but you, Mr. Hampden, favor death. It is less costly, and more effective.""But he has not committed a capital offense," I protested."It is a capital offense by the laws of his own land. And if he had succeeded in burning Mr. Kendrick's house and killing Mr. Kendrick's family, I understand that it would have been a capital offense, even by the emasculate laws of your country. Is he the less guilty that his accomplices failed in the parts he had arranged for them?""Our laws give a lower punishment to the attempt than to the completed offense," I objected."Thereby making the suffering of the innocent and not the wickedness of the criminal the measure of guilt," said Big Sam. "It is enough. Let the sentence stand." And with a few words to the men who held the hapless Little John between them, the prisoner was dragged protesting through one of the mysterious doors of Big Sam's apartment, and disappeared at a turn of the labyrinth. Then with ceremonious bows, the stern-faced presidents of the tongs took their leave, and lastly Big Sam's retainers filed out."Do you mean that this man is to be killed?" I cried, when the doors had closed behind the departing. "Why, he is not even the principal in the crime. You have told me yourself that he is the representative of the Hop Sing Tong.""When we can not catch the shark, we catch the pilot-fish," said Big Sam."But this is murder.""Mr. Hampden," said Big Sam calmly, "this has been a very unpleasant affair, but, believe me, necessary. Let us not discuss it further. I have put it from my mind. I advise you to do the same. Do you believe that the organization of the Committee of Safety will have any effect on the troubles in the city?""I have every confidence in the man at the head of it. I believe it will be of material assistance in suppressing disorder.""The revolutionary elements are strong," said Big Sam. "I have information that there is to be an armed outbreak to-morrow night. Will the Committee of Safety have its organization completed in time to check it? After that, it may be too late."I wondered whether this warning had come from Peter Bolton, but I saw the futility of asking such a question of the man before me. I could merely express the hope that the huge task of enrolling, arming and instructing the men who were flocking to the Committee's leadership would be far enough advanced to make it of service before a serious outbreak occurred."If the Committee is overpowered, I presume we shall be left to our own defense," said Big Sam. "Well, we shall try to be ready. Permit me to thank you again for the pleasure of your company; and good night."The retainers who held Big Sam's store in force looked at me impassively from their slant-eyes as I went out, and they appeared undisturbed at the scene that so many of them had witnessed. But as the door was closed and barred behind me, their voices broke forth in a chatter of singsong tones that revealed the excitement they had repressed to the eye. Big Sam's justice had at least impressed his followers.Once more in the streets, the scene in Big Sam's hall seemed impossible, far away, of another world. I studied my duties to the laws of my own land, as I made my way through the darkened thoroughfares. Should I interfere, and try to save the life of Little John--even supposing that it was possible to find him in the Chinese labyrinths? Why? Did he not deserve his fate? And as the picture of Laura Kendrick crushed in the burning ruins of her house rose before my mind's eye, I could not deny that the world would be better off without the man who had planned such a deed. And with the conclusion to leave Chinese justice to the Chinese, I made my way back to the Kendrick house.As I came up the steps, I was struck by the coincidence of meeting Mr. Baldwin coming down, and wished him a polite "Good night." He halted in evident anger, as though my words had been a personal insult. Then with a muttered "Go to the devil!" he strode up the street.These signs of perturbation upon the cold and unemotional Baldwin were a portent to wonder at, and I suspected that his visit had not been as happy as he considered to be his desert.Inside the house, I discovered some reflection of the perturbation displayed by the retreating Baldwin. Miss Kendrick's face was flushed, and I thought I discovered traces of tears on her cheeks, and a tendency to hysteric laughter, very foreign to her nature. Miss Fillmore was embracing her with sympathetic attention as I entered."Men are such queer creatures," said Miss Kendrick sagely, "and they do make themselves ridiculous when--"Then catching sight of me she uttered a cry of dismay, and said:"Why, what is the matter? Is the house in danger again from those shocking hoodlums?" But she recalled herself as soon as she spoke, and said: "Oh, I remember now. I am Miss Scatterbrain to-night. What did Big Sam want?""He wished to assure me that there was no further danger from Little John," I returned, with prudent reserve.She looked at me suspiciously, as though she detected something behind my words."Do you believe him?""I have no doubt of his good faith.""Well, that's one relief. But just the same Moon Ying doesn't go outside this house till all the troubles are over.""Is there any fighting to-night?" asked Mercy anxiously."Only a few hoodlums. I think we shall get through the night without serious trouble, and to-morrow the Vigilantes will be organized. Then the city can sleep in peace.""Well, I hope so," said Laura, and Mercy breathed an assent. "I feel as though I hadn't slept for a week. And now you go and get some sleep yourself, for you're going to have a hard day to-morrow."Between the recollections of business, of Big Sam's justice, and of Laura Kendrick, sleep was long in coming. Yet of all problems that kept my mind in ferment, the most disturbing was "What happened to Baldwin?" And after arguing myself to the pleasing conclusion that he had, in his most superior manner, put his fate to the test, and had fallen from the full height of his self-esteem to the bottomless pit of rejection, I fell into dreamless slumber.CHAPTER XXVFACING A CRISISAs I neared the office on the following morning in some depression of spirits at the reports from Wharton Kendrick's bedside, I heard my name called, and turned to find Parks signaling me. His face was alight with self-importance, his hair stood out with electric aggressiveness, and he seemed to tremble with superfluous energy, like a superheated boiler."You should have stayed to the rest of our meeting on last Monday night," he said abruptly. "We succeeded in strengthening our cause among the working-people, even though the misguided violence of a few young men interfered with our plans for freeing the people from their oppressors.""I had other business than listening to speeches.""Sir," he cried, "you do wrong to speak with contempt of those appeals that rouse men to a knowledge of their rights and their powers. I want you to be with us again to-night. We are to hold another meeting on the New City Hall lots, as you will see by this circular." And he waved a number of sheets that called upon all men to "Rally, Rally!" at the "Great Anti-Coolie Mass Meeting" at eight o'clock."Another meeting!" I exclaimed. "You are very indiscreet to hold it at this time.""Not at all," returned Parks enthusiastically. "Now is the time. We must take advantage of the roused feelings of the people. The outbreak the other night came to nothing because it was but an ebullition of misdirected energy. But it was prompted by a generous desire for action that would free the people, and had we been prepared to take advantage of the opportunity, the strength that for want of intelligent leadership was wasted in profitless attacks on Chinese wash-houses would have put us in possession of the city government.""Do you think you are prepared now?""We are ready to seize the opportunities that fortune may offer.""Why, you're not so absurd as to suppose that you can seize the government now," I said. "Even supposing you might have done something the other night--which I don't think you could--the time has gone by. The city is roused. The Committee of Safety is organized. The militia is under arms. You will certainly land in jail if you make a move, and if you're locked up, there will be one very unhappy girl in this city. For her sake, Parks, keep out of this affair.""Sir," said Parks, his aggressive manner a little softened, "I am committed. I can not in honor draw back, even to please the best of women. But you underestimate our strength. The Committee of Safety itself springs from the people, and will assist, not hinder, our movement. The militia is recruited from the same class, and will not fire on the people at the command of plutocracy. We shall meet and we shall triumph. Be with us to-night, at eight sharp." And he hurried on.A second warning of the intended meeting came from Clark, who was lying in wait for me at the office door."Parks just told me about it," I said. "What are they going to do?""Why, the men of the Council are talking about taking possession of the city government, but the talk of the men around town runs to burning the Pacific Mail docks and the steamers, and running the Chinese out of Chinatown.""Burning the Mail steamers!" I cried."Yes. We've got word that theCity of Tokiois in with a cargo of a thousand coolies, and the men say that the only way to stop them from landing is to burn them in the steamer, and make an end of the docks. Anyhow, if they don't do that, they'll do something else that's likely to be as bad. Waldorf and Reddick held up Bolton in his office last night and got more money out of him--ten thousand or twenty thousand dollars, I don't know which--so they are in funds to organize trouble."This information seemed to call for action, but I could think of nothing better to do than to order Clark to engage a dozen more stout fellows to be on guard at the Kendrick place in case the mob should pay it another visit. And this done, I walked with some perturbance of mind into the office.Nelson soon arrived, carefully groomed, fresh-shaven, his side-whiskers trimmed, and his eyeglasses heightening his air of authority, and greeted me with more consideration than he had shown yesterday. A few minutes later Partridge followed in more free and easy fashion."I met Coleman on the street just now," said Partridge. "He's too busy with his Vigilantes to do much with us to-day.""I hope he'll get his twenty thousand men and drive every hoodlum out of town," said Nelson. "Is it true that Kendrick is going to die?"My heart climbed into my throat at this disturbing question. The business as well as the personal reasons that would make his death a calamity had led me to put this thought rigorously out of my mind, and it was an emotional shock to be compelled to face it."I can't think so," I replied, as soon as I could command my voice. "But I'm sorry to say he is no better. When I left the house this morning, he was still unconscious.""I heard he had no chance," said Nelson, "but I hoped it wasn't so."For a moment I lost the firmness of mind that had supported me in the trials of the situation. Between the affection I had conceived for Wharton Kendrick and the thought of the confusion in which his affairs would be left, the apprehension of his death threw me into mental distraction. I was recalled by the voice of Partridge:"Well, we must get down to business. Here's a list of men who will call for loans. There'll be plenty of others. By the way, Hampden, I got pledges of seven hundred and twenty-five thousand more to go into the pool. You can deposit it, if you like, with the rest of the syndicate fund." And he tossed me a bundle of checks.This simple act of confidence pleased me more than words. These men treated me as one of them. I was trusted as Wharton Kendrick would have been trusted under the same circumstances, and at this certificate of confidence I was warmed by a pardonable glow of pride.The morning was a repetition of its predecessor, as the elements of the city's commercial woes trickled in concentrated form through the office. It was a depressing business, as the line of embarrassed merchants, brokers and speculators passed rapidly before us. Some were snatched from the brink of ruin. Some were sent about their business as frauds, seeking to use the syndicate's funds in speculation. Some--too unimportant to affect the commercial fabric in their failure--were left to stand or fall as their own strength should determine."I never supposed there was so much rotten timber afloat," said Partridge.William T. Coleman joined us at the lunch hour, and the sight of his face, masterful and calm, renewed our spirits."You are keeping things pretty near even in the markets," he said. "We shall weather the gale if there isn't another outbreak.""Well, that's on the cards," I said. "The circulars are out for another meeting on the sand-lots.""Come with me, and tell what you know about this, while we have a bite of lunch," he said.I was more than pleased at this request, but looked doubtfully at the accumulation of papers before us with the feeling that I was the indispensable man at the desk. Coleman interpreted my unspoken thought, and said:"Oh, sign a dozen checks in blank, and Partridge and Nelson can attend to everything necessary while you are gone."I was reluctant to surrender my place as dispenser of fortune, even for a brief space of time. The position of a financial magnate in a period of storm and stress was not one that I could conscientiously describe as free from anxieties and perturbations. But it was clothed with power, and power possesses a fascination of its own. Monarchs do not abdicate, except under compulsion; and even among minor office-holders, whose mastership is far more limited than that of a millionaire in business, we have the word of a president that "few die and none resign." But at the compelling glance of William T. Coleman I signed my name to twelve checks, and said that I was happy to attend him.During our hasty luncheon I told of the warning of coming outbreak that had been given me by Big Sam, of the words of Parks, and of the information I had received from Clark. Then, at his inquiries, I told all that I knew of the Council of Nine--its organization from among the anarchists, socialists and communists, its visionary idea of seizing the city government, and the manner in which it was using the anti-Chinese agitation to secure the physical force to bring about its revolutionary ends."You think the anti-Chinese leaders are being used without their knowledge?" asked Coleman thoughtfully."To a large extent, yes. They know, of course, that these men have wider designs, but they do not take them seriously.""Nevertheless," said Coleman, "they may prove dangerous in a crisis like this. They have the reckless courage of leadership that may turn a mob into a destroying body. We must do everything we can to hasten the enrollment and organization of the Committee of Safety's forces. By the way, have you signed the roll yet?""No. I haven't had time to think of it.""This will never do. You are a leading citizen now and must set a good example. Come with me. We have our headquarters in the Chamber of Commerce rooms for the day, but at night we shall assemble in Horticultural Hall. We are going to have a big force, and must have a big armory."The assembly hall of the Chamber of Commerce was fitted up with desks, and a score of clerks were busy with books and papers. Two or three hundred men had gathered in the hall, and the clerks were surrounded by confused but orderly groups. Coleman led me to one of the desks, and I signed my name while he himself pinned on my coat the badge of the Vigilantes.As I wrote, I was astonished to see a dozen lines above my pen the signature of Peter Bolton, and it struck fire to my anger that the arch-conspirator--the man who had inspired the disorder that threatened the city--should have enrolled his name among those who pledged their lives and fortunes to its defense. I gave a quick look about the room with the thought that I should discover the spare face and sardonic smile of the curmudgeon enjoying the flutter into which he had thrown the solid men of the city. But he was nowhere to be seen, and I debated whether I should call Mr. Coleman's attention to the matter; but as I remembered that Wharton Kendrick had checked a mention of Bolton's name in Coleman's own house, and saw no present purpose to be served by the discovery, I followed the sound rule of keeping my mouth shut. And as William T. Coleman retired to the office of the Committee of Twenty-four, I returned to my duties.On entering the door of my office I was given a shock of surprise. A man of spare figure, tall, with bowed and narrow shoulders, sat facing Partridge and Nelson, and presented only his back to my view; but the back was unmistakably the back of Peter Bolton. Nelson leaned forward, watching him with close attention, while Partridge was running rapidly through a bundle of papers."I've got to have the money," were the first words that came to me in Peter Bolton's complaining voice. "Here are the securities--pretty good securities, too--better than you took from Packenham, or Hooper, or a dozen others--ten times as good as you took from the Sundown Bank."Partridge swiftly sorted the papers into two packets. The larger one he threw across the desk to Bolton."The banks will take those," he said with crisp brevity. "We can advance three hundred thousand on the others, if necessary. What do you want to do with the money?"Peter Bolton gave his head a slow shake."I've got to save myself from going under," he said in a whining tone. "I've got notes to pay, and three hundred thousand dollars won't cover them. I ought to have a million.""Let's see the statement of your liabilities," said Partridge.Peter Bolton fumbled in his inside coat pocket, brought out a large pocket-book, untied the string with which he had secured it, and then looked through its bulging compartments."I don't like to show it," he complained. "It's Private Business, and I don't like to trust any one with my Private Business.""Suit yourself," said Partridge. "Try some other place if you like."Peter Bolton's trembling hand brought out a sheet of paper from one of the recesses of the pocket-book, and passed it over to Partridge."There it is," he said. "You can see I've got to have money right away. If I don't pay them notes, I'll be posted on the Exchange; and you can't afford to have that happen. If I go down, there'll be such a smash in the markets as you've never seen. I shan't go down alone."Partridge rapidly drew his pencil through several of the items of Peter Bolton's statement."Those will renew," he said. "You can get four hundred thousand from the banks on the securities you have in your hand. Three hundred thousand will be enough for us to let you have. It will see you through.""I don't see how I am to get along without more than that," said Peter Bolton, with a slow shake of the head. "But I'll do the best I can with it." He gave the outward evidences of dissatisfaction, but there was an undertone of triumph in his voice, inaudible to any ear but mine.I had listened thus far without an attempt to interrupt. I was curious to see what plea Peter Bolton would make in support of his audacious attempt to turn the syndicate's money against the syndicate's objects; and it had not occurred to me as possible that Partridge and Nelson would fail to penetrate his scheme. I forgot for the moment that my colleagues were not informed of the purposes of the arch-plotter, and it was therefore with something of a shock that I heard Partridge consent to put three hundred thousand dollars into Bolton's hands, and saw Nelson dip his pen in ink to fill out the check."I beg pardon," I said, stepping forward, "but I think it will be better to hold that money."At the sound of my voice Peter Bolton gave a violent start, and for a moment his face turned ashy gray, as he seized the arms of the chair to support himself. Then with an effort he recovered his self-possession, and gave me a nod that was meant to be ingratiating."Well," said Partridge, "if you'd like to look over Mr. Bolton's papers, here they are."I waved them away."I don't doubt your judgment on the securities. It is beyond question. I merely object to making the loan at all."Peter Bolton raised his hand, threw back his head with open mouth, and spoke in his most sarcastic drawl."Some Young Men like to interfere with Other Men's Business. But all that has been discussed. The matter is settled."I took up the signed checks that lay before Nelson and replied:"Oh, no; there are several points to be explained before we go further.""We haven't time to run a debating club," said Nelson, a little huffed by my strategic move in securing the checks. "We have consented to the loan for excellent reasons. Mr. Bolton's failure would be certain to start the panic we have been staving off for two days.""Very true. But Mr. Bolton is unduly anxious. He is in no more danger of failing than the Bank of California."Peter Bolton turned on me with suppressed anger glowing in his eyes, and drew down the corners of his mouth in a sarcastic snarl."Maybe, young man, you know more about My Business than I know.""I shouldn't put it that way," I retorted. "I should say that I know more about your business than you are ready to tell."Peter Bolton drew down the corners of his mouth again and turned to Partridge with the air of putting me aside."Young Men have Strange Ideas," he drawled, "but you are Men of Experience, and you know what it means to refuse this loan. If you are sure a Panic would help your Business, why, all you have to do is to say I can't have the money. If I don't get it, I'll be posted on the Exchange this afternoon.""And I warn you that Mr. Bolton is perfectly solvent," I said.Partridge rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and Nelson studied the floor in perplexity."I am inclined to overrule Mr. Hampden in this matter," said Partridge; "but he represents Mr. Kendrick, and I don't wish to go in flat opposition to his judgment."Peter Bolton gave me a malignant glance."Judgment! judgment!" he exclaimed in his most sarcastic drawl. "The Young Man knows that Kendrick and I haven't been on good terms, and he thinks he can Curry Favor by ruining me. But if I can have a word with him, I can convince him it's to Kendrick's interest to keep me afloat this time." And seizing my arm, he attempted to draw me to the other end of the room."I don't care to hear anything you can't say before these gentlemen," I replied."Come just a minute," he persisted, with a wheedling tone in his voice, and drew me to a farther corner. Then he said in a low, eager tone: "It will be fifty thousand dollars in your pocket if you say yes.""No!" was my curt reply."It will be cash," he urged. "You can hold the money out from the advance from the committee. You'll be perfectly safe.""No!" I repeated, with the emphasis of disgust, and walked swiftly back to the desk. For an instant I had the resolve to explain to my fellow-members the offense that Peter Bolton had proposed. But an uneasy conscience reminded me that I had brought it upon myself, and instead of revealing the shameless offer, I said sharply:"I ought to have saved time by telling you at the first that nothing could serve this man's profit so well as a panic. He above all other men is responsible for the present troubles, and any money advanced to him will be used against the interests we are here to protect."Peter Bolton's hand trembled, and a look of desperation came into his eyes. Otherwise he gave no sign of lessening self-possession."It's a lie, it's a lie!" he cried. "I shall be ruined." Nelson turned to me."That is a very serious assertion. You should be certain of your ground to make such a charge.""He can't prove it. It's a lie!" repeated Peter Bolton eagerly."Mr. Bolton is the father of the present crisis," I said. "He is the financial backer of the agitators that the Committee of Safety has been organized to put down. It was not so much as two weeks ago that he paid thirty thousand dollars to the Council of Nine."Peter Bolton attempted to resume his sarcastic air, and drew down the corners of his mouth into his sardonic mask, though his lip trembled with the effort."You can't believe lies like that," he said, in appeal to Partridge and Nelson."And last night," I continued, "he received two members of the Council of Nine in his office, and paid them a sum of money that I believe was ten thousand dollars. It may have been twenty. An armed outbreak is planned for to-night. If it comes, there stands the man who furnished the money for it." And I pointed an accusing finger at the spare, bent form of the arch-conspirator.At this evidence of the accuracy of my information, the sallow face of Peter Bolton once more turned to an ashy gray, and he looked from side to side as though seeking some avenue of escape. Then he faced me."You're talking nonsense," he cried with tense determination in his voice. "Nobody will believe you. You ought to be sent to the asylum."I looked into his eyes."Waldorf and Parks are within call," I said with calm and assured mendacity. "Shall I bring them in?"Peter Bolton dropped his eyes, trembled as he stood silent for a moment, then seized his papers and walked to the door. As his hand was on the knob, he turned and shook his fist at us."I'll smash you yet!" he cried in a harsh voice, his anger getting the better of his fears. "I'll smash you and that scoundrel Kendrick. I'll grind the whole pack of you down into the dirt." And he went out with unexpected nimbleness, and slammed the door behind him.I looked at my associates with a word of self-congratulation on my tongue. But the shamed and apologetic air with which they studied the documents before them stopped my mouth. It was evident that they needed no one to inform them that they had been gulled by Peter Bolton, and I had the discretion to perceive that the temper of the office would not be improved by discussion of the circumstances. So I took my seat without a word.The stream of imperiled merchants again trickled through the room, and for an hour we worked rapidly and with exemplary harmony. The self-esteem of Partridge, cut down by the treacherous hand of Peter Bolton, spread and blossomed once more as his skill in estimating the value of securities and the needs of borrowers was put to the test and proved without flaw. The phlegmatic Nelson had shown his discomposure for but a moment, so we were again upon a footing of close confidence.It was half-past two when Brown, Wharton Kendrick's head clerk, peered in at the door and beckoned to me with a face full of trouble. I made some excuse, and followed him to his office. He closed and locked the door and looked at me in silent dismay."What's the matter?" I asked."We're ruined!" he gasped."What's that?" I cried."We must close the doors--unless you have three hundred and fifty thousand," he whispered slowly.He looked at me with the white face and colorless lips of a man in the final stages of nausea. The misfortunes of Wharton Kendrick were taken to heart by at least one man."It's some of Mr. Kendrick's notes," he said. "They've just been presented. There's four hundred and fifty thousand of them altogether--lacking a few hundreds, and all the money we've got is a little over one hundred thousand.""Where do these notes come from? Who presents them?""They are made out to different persons; but they are presented by the El Dorado Bank.""Didn't Mr. Kendrick make any provision to meet them?""Maybe he did--I suppose so, for some of them are three weeks overdue. But he never said anything to me about them.""Let me see them."The bank's messenger was brought in, and I scrutinized the notes he presented. They were on their face made payable to a dozen or more men--some to one, some to another--but all had been indorsed to Peter Bolton.There was no time to waste in lamentations, and there was but one resource in sight. I bade the messenger wait a minute, and hastened back to the syndicate's office."Here are three checks for you to sign," said Partridge. "The men are waiting for them in the anteroom."They were for but small amounts, and I hastily added my name to the slips."I have something more important yet to lay before you," I said boldly. "I want three hundred and fifty thousand dollars.""What's that?" cried Partridge.Nelson looked too shocked for words, and I repeated my request."What do you want it for?" demanded Partridge."Gentlemen," I replied, "I am sorry to say that we are face to face with the greatest danger we have yet met. Peter Bolton has made good his threat. He has struck quick and hard. He has presented for payment through the El Dorado Bank nearly four hundred and fifty thousand of Wharton Kendrick's notes, and there is only one hundred thousand in the house to pay them with. I must ask you for the balance."Partridge drew a whistle of surprise, and Nelson turned pale."The old fox!" cried Nelson. "We might have known he was up to mischief.""And he put them in through the El Dorado Bank," said Partridge reflectively. "I wonder if he is with the bank's wrecking combination.""He is at the head of it," I said.Partridge drummed on the desk with nervous fingers, and his face took on a grim look. As neither of my associates spoke, I said:"Well, there can be no doubt of our duty to support Wharton Kendrick in this emergency.""Of course not," said Partridge. "What security can you offer?""Haven't the least idea," I replied curtly."You'd better make us a general assignment," said Nelson. "I suppose that will cover it.""I couldn't think of doing such a thing," I replied, restraining my indignation with an effort. "A note will have to do.""It's a very irregular proposition," said Nelson. "Even the Sundown Bank has put up a pretense of collateral.""Well," I returned, "as a business proposition, wouldn't you rather hold Wharton Kendrick's note than the Sundown Bank's collateral?""Yes, of course--provided Wharton Kendrick lives. But Wharton Kendrick is likely to die. The question we have to consider is, What will his note be worth in the Probate Court?""You see how it is," said Partridge, with the patient air of one instructing a novice. "If you haven't anything to pledge, why, an assignment is the thing."I faced my associates with the determination to yield nothing."I act on the assumption that Wharton Kendrick will get well," I replied. "And if he gets well only to find that I have made a general assignment of his business, how much further do you suppose he will trust me with his affairs?""That's all right for you," said Partridge. "But how shall we look when we present our account to the syndicate and show that we have loaned one of our members three hundred and fifty thousand without security? How long do you think it would be before we got a chance to handle any more of their money? We'd be waiting till the next day after never, I guess."The knot of circumstances seemed to be pretty firmly tangled, and I saw no way but to cut it by a bold stroke."I don't want to act without your consent--" I began."You have no right to act without our consent," interrupted Partridge, with quick insight into my resolve."Right or not, I have the power. And you will be relieved of responsibility if I pay the money without your consent.""You wouldn't do that!" cried Nelson and Partridge in a breath, their faces showing signs of rising temper."I certainly shall do it before I see Wharton Kendrick's notes go to protest and a financial panic start in San Francisco."Partridge and Nelson looked at me with concern and anger pictured on their faces. But before either could speak, the door opened and William T. Coleman entered."You're just in time, Coleman," said Partridge explosively. "See if you can't put reason into this young man's head.""What's the trouble?" asked Coleman, looking calmly at the flushed and angry countenances before him.Partridge and I attempted to explain our positions at the same time, but Coleman picked out the facts from the confusion, and with a few tactful questions had the situation clearly in his mind."The solution is very simple," he said. "Wharton Kendrick subscribed five hundred thousand to the syndicate. Mr. Hampden will assign us three hundred and fifty thousand out of that sum, and we shall be perfectly protected."Coleman's plan was so logical and businesslike a way out of our difficulties that I breathed a sigh of relief, and the anger of my associates evaporated in a laugh at our stupidity in not thinking of it for ourselves."How much does that leave in the fund?" asked Coleman, when I had taken up the notes, and sent the clerk on his way."A trifle over twenty-three thousand.""Gentlemen," said Partridge, rising with a theatric gesture, "the syndicate retires from business. Thank Heaven it is striking three.""And what of to-morrow?" I asked.Partridge shrugged his shoulders."I wish to God I knew," he said.
"'We, the undersigned citizens of San Francisco, do hereby enroll ourselves as a General Committee of Safety, subject to the requirements of the Special Committee of Twenty-Four, of which William T. Coleman, Esq., is President, and we do hereby bind ourselves to act with the committee to preserve the peace and well-being of the city with our money and persons.'
"You will be given directions where to assemble, and what duties you are to perform. I hope no able-bodied citizen will fail to give us his services and support."
At a significant gesture from the president, these solid men of the city crowded about the secretary to sign their names, and the Committee of Safety was born.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE JUSTICE OF BIG SAM
"You seem to have done a good day's work," was Miss Kendrick's comment on my brief account of the commercial struggle, "and you'll make a business man yet if you keep on. I wish you could tell uncle about it, but he's still unconscious." And her lip trembled at the sudden remembrance of Wharton Kendrick's peril, until I thought for the moment that she was going to burst into tears. But she commanded herself, and continued in steady voice: "And now that you've done so well, I'll give one of those reward-of-merit cards you used to get in school. It came this afternoon, and I'm dying to know what's in it." And she brought out a letter addressed in fine Spencerian copperplate script to "Mr. Hampden, the Lawyer of Mr. Kendrick's House on Van Ness Avenue, San Francisco."
I read the address with some wonder, and Laura Kendrick continued:
"Moon Ying says that funny little sign up in the corner is Big Sam's seal; but he surely never wrote that remarkable address. I suppose it is by one of his clerks."
At this, I hastily opened the envelope, and found within a formal note:
Kwan Sam Suey requests the pleasure of Mr. Hampden's company, at his office in Waverly Place, this evening, at as early an hour as convenient.
I passed the note over to Miss Kendrick.
"It looks as though there was going to be a party," she said, "or a supper at the very least. I hope you won't overeat--or worse."
"Big Sam has never suggested such an idea as eating or drinking, though I don't put it beyond him. But he surely hasn't picked out this season of alarms to give a reception. So if you'll excuse me, I'll run down to his place. It may be something important."
"Of course you must go--and you must come back, too. I'm sure I can't sleep till I know what it's about. I shall be up most of the night, and so will Mercy; so you needn't have qualms about ringing the bell, even if you are later than late. There will be somebody to let you in."
"As I'd rather be here than anywhere else, I shan't miss the chance to come back," I said boldly.
She ignored my words, and evaded my devouring glances, and with a sage nod suggested that the sooner I was on my way, the sooner I should have a chance to come back.
As I went down the steps I was stricken with a jealous pang to see Mr. Baldwin coming up with the air of a conquering army. He gave me a cool "Good evening," and then asked, in his most superior manner, if I were on my way to stir my friends to further exertions.
"I have but one object in life," I returned in a confidential tone, "and that is to put your particular friend and client inside four stone walls where he can't do any more harm. And you can tell Mr. Bolton so with my compliments, too."
From his muttered response, I gathered that my reminder of his connection with Peter Bolton did not give him unalloyed pleasure, and pleased with the consciousness that I had given more than I had received in the way of irritation, I went my way to Chinatown.
There were abundant signs of unrest in both the white and the yellow city. Bands of hoodlums still ranged the streets, and fought runaway actions with the police. Householders seemed in fear, and windows that were customarily cheerful with lights now looked with darkened shades upon the streets.
Chinatown was as forbidding as on the night of my last visit, and such lights as were to be seen shone through closed shutters and barred doors. But despite the atmosphere of sullen hostility that lay like a fog upon the district, I made my way without interference to Waverly Place and rapped on Big Sam's door. My name secured prompt admittance. The door was unbarred for a moment for my entrance, and promptly barred once more, and I was led through a crowd of sullen, hostile-faced hatchet-men to Big Sam's reception-hall.
The King of Chinatown sat by his desk in his flowing robes of state, but rose and offered me his hand as I entered.
"I thank you for your prompt attention, Mr. Hampden," he said, motioning me courteously to a high-backed chair at his side. I thought I could detect a trace of worry in his eyes, but his face was as impassive as ever.
"I am flattered to receive your invitation."
"It is not an idle one."
"I should be slow to believe so--especially after the prompt fulfilment of your last prophecy."
"You have the eye of the reader of thoughts," said Big Sam with a faint smile. "You speak of the very point I wish to ask about. I note by the papers that you were attacked--or Mr. Kendrick, to be accurate."
"Oh, I was fortunate enough to share in it," I said nonchalantly.
"Hardly a matter for congratulation, Mr. Hampden. Kindly let me know what happened. Was it by my people, or--"
He paused, and I replied:
"We were attacked in front by the anti-Chinese mob, three hundred or more strong, and in the rear by a score or so of ruffians that I have reason to suppose were hired by your people."
"I should be obliged for your reasons."
"They are at your service." And I gave the accumulated facts from Little John's attempt to drag away the Chinese girl, to Danny Regan's identification by Moon Ying.
As I set forth my tale, a certain fire of rage kindled in Big Sam's face without disturbing the impassivity of his features. He seemed to grow larger, and I could understand how great monarchs cause men to tremble by something more than the physical forces at their command. Some subtle force irradiated from the man, and only a strong will could refuse to yield to the fear that he inspired.
As I ended my tale, he muttered, "The dogs--to violate their word--to cross my orders--to risk everything at this crisis!"
Then he clapped his hands, and two men appeared, and after a few words vanished.
"I hope you will not object if I detain you for a time," said Big Sam, relaxing something of his anger.
"Not at all, if I can be of service."
"You mean that you would not stay as a social diversion," he said with a faint smile. "Well, you can be of service, Mr. Hampden, and permit me in the interval to offer you the hospitalities that should pass between friends." He gave his hands another clap, and in a moment a servant entered bearing a tray with a teapot and cups, and placed it before Big Sam. My host poured the tea as I exclaimed at the beauty of the porcelain in the highly decorated pot and the thin cups.
"I presume you prefer sugar and milk," said Big Sam, hesitating.
If I had possessed an insatiable appetite for these luxuries, the note of scorn in his voice would have forbidden me to confess it. But I had been dealing with Chinese clients long enough, and had drunk tea enough in Chinese fashion, to make it a matter of indifference to me, and I gave him a cheerful negative.
"What an exquisite flavor!" I exclaimed, as I sipped from the dainty cups. "Where do you get such tea?"
"I have it brought over by a special agent. It is not such as you can buy in the stores. That you may realize that you do not see all of China in the externals we present in San Francisco, I will remind you that you consider that you get a very good tea when you pay two dollars a pound for it. It is a good tea. But this that you are drinking costs eighty dollars a pound in China. You see we have a few luxuries--possibly some that you would not recognize. This is the tea of the gods, and I am pleased to see that you do not profane its flavor." The servant had brought in another tray, and Big Sam pressed me to eat of some preserved fish, which he praised more highly than I thought it deserved, and a fowl deliciously cooked with strange seasonings, ending with Chinese sweetmeats and a dash of fine Chinese brandy. I ate without hesitation, for all my suspicion of Chinese dishes, for I could believe that the man who drank tea at eighty dollars a pound would have nothing below the best.
And as we ate, Big Sam questioned me with a devouring curiosity of my views on the relations of China and the United States, on the future of the Orient, on the possible waking of China, on the destiny of the races, on the results of the anti-Chinese agitation; and though he gave little expression to his own views, he let drop many statesmanlike observations that showed how deeply he had thought upon these problems. Then at a sound from without, he had the trays cleared away, and the look of stern anger came back to his face.
"Now, Mr. Hampden, is the time for your assistance," he said. "I did not, as you may assume, invite you here to talk politics. That pleasure might have waited till a less troubled time. Matters of more importance await us. With your kind permission, we shall hold a high court of justice."
I had ceased to be astonished at anything that might happen in Big Sam's apartments. I bowed assent, and at a sharp rap on the desk, a score or more of sullen-faced Chinese entered, and formed in line along the walls. Apparently they bore no arms, but I judged from their expression that they belonged to the notorious hatchet-men, and carried all the paraphernalia of war under their loose blouses. Then entered two men of stern aspect, who walked with an air of command, and after greeting Big Sam they were introduced to me as the presidents of the Sare Bo and the See Yung tongs and were given seats beside us. Then at a curt order from Big Sam, another door opened, and two men entered dragging a protesting prisoner between them.
It was Little John, and by the fear that gleamed in his eyes and set his chin a-tremble, his forecast of the judgment of the high court of justice was most grave. He dropped to his knees, as he was dragged in front of the desk and made to face us, and beat his forehead on the floor with exclamations of protest and appeals for mercy. At a word from Big Sam the guards brought him to his feet, and Big Sam spoke briefly in Chinese. Then he turned to me.
"Is this the man, Mr. Hampden?"
"I have no doubt it is," I responded.
"Please repeat your story to these men," and he indicated the two Chinese presidents who looked with stern, impassive faces upon the trembling wretch before us.
"You will understand that this is not evidence," I said. "It is nothing that could be received in court, as I speak for the most part by hearsay."
"Proceed," said Big Sam. "Our justice is not pinioned in the bonds of your rules of evidence." And I repeated the account of the first visit of Little John, of his attempt to capture Moon Ying, of the assault on the Kendrick house by Danny Regan's ruffians, and Regan's identification by Moon Ying as Little John's expressman. From time to time Big Sam acted as interpreter, though in the main the Chinese appeared to understand me well enough.
The prisoner shook as with an ague at my disclosures, and his coarse goatee fluttered in sympathy with his flying heart. A few questions were put to him, and after admitting that he had visited the Kendrick place, he turned to denial, and became glib in his own defense. Big Sam translated to me in an undertone, and I could feel the anger in his voice rising higher and higher at each prevarication. At last Big Sam sprang to his feet, and pointing at me, thundered a question at Little John.
Little John hesitated, stumbled in his speech, hastily denied his words, then stopped and looked about him with evident realization that he was lost; and with a scream of terror he would have fallen had not the guards caught him and brought him roughly to his feet.
"Mr. Hampden, what shall be done with this man?" asked Big Sam.
"I have a warrant out for his arrest for disturbing the peace. I'm afraid I haven't evidence enough to satisfy our courts on a higher charge."
"Well, this court is satisfied--you believe him guilty, Mr. Hampden?"
"He is certainly guilty of attempted abduction."
He apparently put the same question to the two stern-faced men beside us, and they gave assent in brief phrases.
"The court is unanimous," said Big Sam. "Guilty of attempted abduction, violation of the bargain between the tongs, sacrificing the interests of his race to the interest of his tong by challenging the white vengeance. What should the penalty be, Mr. Hampden?"
"I think in our court he would get two years for the attempted abduction, assuming that he was convicted."
"A mild punishment, Mr. Hampden. I do not wonder that crime flourishes in your country with justice so feeble. But we have no prisons at our command. Death or exile or fine--these are the punishments we can enforce."
I shuddered at his words and tone, but it seemed impossible that we were discussing more than a theoretical case.
"Do you mean to say that our judgment will be carried out?" I cried.
"Certainly. An example is necessary; an offense has been committed; the guilty is before us for sentence."
"I should be satisfied with exile," I said, as Big Sam's eye demanded my choice.
He spoke to the two stern-faced men beside us, and at their answer turned to me.
"All but you, Mr. Hampden, favor death. It is less costly, and more effective."
"But he has not committed a capital offense," I protested.
"It is a capital offense by the laws of his own land. And if he had succeeded in burning Mr. Kendrick's house and killing Mr. Kendrick's family, I understand that it would have been a capital offense, even by the emasculate laws of your country. Is he the less guilty that his accomplices failed in the parts he had arranged for them?"
"Our laws give a lower punishment to the attempt than to the completed offense," I objected.
"Thereby making the suffering of the innocent and not the wickedness of the criminal the measure of guilt," said Big Sam. "It is enough. Let the sentence stand." And with a few words to the men who held the hapless Little John between them, the prisoner was dragged protesting through one of the mysterious doors of Big Sam's apartment, and disappeared at a turn of the labyrinth. Then with ceremonious bows, the stern-faced presidents of the tongs took their leave, and lastly Big Sam's retainers filed out.
"Do you mean that this man is to be killed?" I cried, when the doors had closed behind the departing. "Why, he is not even the principal in the crime. You have told me yourself that he is the representative of the Hop Sing Tong."
"When we can not catch the shark, we catch the pilot-fish," said Big Sam.
"But this is murder."
"Mr. Hampden," said Big Sam calmly, "this has been a very unpleasant affair, but, believe me, necessary. Let us not discuss it further. I have put it from my mind. I advise you to do the same. Do you believe that the organization of the Committee of Safety will have any effect on the troubles in the city?"
"I have every confidence in the man at the head of it. I believe it will be of material assistance in suppressing disorder."
"The revolutionary elements are strong," said Big Sam. "I have information that there is to be an armed outbreak to-morrow night. Will the Committee of Safety have its organization completed in time to check it? After that, it may be too late."
I wondered whether this warning had come from Peter Bolton, but I saw the futility of asking such a question of the man before me. I could merely express the hope that the huge task of enrolling, arming and instructing the men who were flocking to the Committee's leadership would be far enough advanced to make it of service before a serious outbreak occurred.
"If the Committee is overpowered, I presume we shall be left to our own defense," said Big Sam. "Well, we shall try to be ready. Permit me to thank you again for the pleasure of your company; and good night."
The retainers who held Big Sam's store in force looked at me impassively from their slant-eyes as I went out, and they appeared undisturbed at the scene that so many of them had witnessed. But as the door was closed and barred behind me, their voices broke forth in a chatter of singsong tones that revealed the excitement they had repressed to the eye. Big Sam's justice had at least impressed his followers.
Once more in the streets, the scene in Big Sam's hall seemed impossible, far away, of another world. I studied my duties to the laws of my own land, as I made my way through the darkened thoroughfares. Should I interfere, and try to save the life of Little John--even supposing that it was possible to find him in the Chinese labyrinths? Why? Did he not deserve his fate? And as the picture of Laura Kendrick crushed in the burning ruins of her house rose before my mind's eye, I could not deny that the world would be better off without the man who had planned such a deed. And with the conclusion to leave Chinese justice to the Chinese, I made my way back to the Kendrick house.
As I came up the steps, I was struck by the coincidence of meeting Mr. Baldwin coming down, and wished him a polite "Good night." He halted in evident anger, as though my words had been a personal insult. Then with a muttered "Go to the devil!" he strode up the street.
These signs of perturbation upon the cold and unemotional Baldwin were a portent to wonder at, and I suspected that his visit had not been as happy as he considered to be his desert.
Inside the house, I discovered some reflection of the perturbation displayed by the retreating Baldwin. Miss Kendrick's face was flushed, and I thought I discovered traces of tears on her cheeks, and a tendency to hysteric laughter, very foreign to her nature. Miss Fillmore was embracing her with sympathetic attention as I entered.
"Men are such queer creatures," said Miss Kendrick sagely, "and they do make themselves ridiculous when--"
Then catching sight of me she uttered a cry of dismay, and said:
"Why, what is the matter? Is the house in danger again from those shocking hoodlums?" But she recalled herself as soon as she spoke, and said: "Oh, I remember now. I am Miss Scatterbrain to-night. What did Big Sam want?"
"He wished to assure me that there was no further danger from Little John," I returned, with prudent reserve.
She looked at me suspiciously, as though she detected something behind my words.
"Do you believe him?"
"I have no doubt of his good faith."
"Well, that's one relief. But just the same Moon Ying doesn't go outside this house till all the troubles are over."
"Is there any fighting to-night?" asked Mercy anxiously.
"Only a few hoodlums. I think we shall get through the night without serious trouble, and to-morrow the Vigilantes will be organized. Then the city can sleep in peace."
"Well, I hope so," said Laura, and Mercy breathed an assent. "I feel as though I hadn't slept for a week. And now you go and get some sleep yourself, for you're going to have a hard day to-morrow."
Between the recollections of business, of Big Sam's justice, and of Laura Kendrick, sleep was long in coming. Yet of all problems that kept my mind in ferment, the most disturbing was "What happened to Baldwin?" And after arguing myself to the pleasing conclusion that he had, in his most superior manner, put his fate to the test, and had fallen from the full height of his self-esteem to the bottomless pit of rejection, I fell into dreamless slumber.
CHAPTER XXV
FACING A CRISIS
As I neared the office on the following morning in some depression of spirits at the reports from Wharton Kendrick's bedside, I heard my name called, and turned to find Parks signaling me. His face was alight with self-importance, his hair stood out with electric aggressiveness, and he seemed to tremble with superfluous energy, like a superheated boiler.
"You should have stayed to the rest of our meeting on last Monday night," he said abruptly. "We succeeded in strengthening our cause among the working-people, even though the misguided violence of a few young men interfered with our plans for freeing the people from their oppressors."
"I had other business than listening to speeches."
"Sir," he cried, "you do wrong to speak with contempt of those appeals that rouse men to a knowledge of their rights and their powers. I want you to be with us again to-night. We are to hold another meeting on the New City Hall lots, as you will see by this circular." And he waved a number of sheets that called upon all men to "Rally, Rally!" at the "Great Anti-Coolie Mass Meeting" at eight o'clock.
"Another meeting!" I exclaimed. "You are very indiscreet to hold it at this time."
"Not at all," returned Parks enthusiastically. "Now is the time. We must take advantage of the roused feelings of the people. The outbreak the other night came to nothing because it was but an ebullition of misdirected energy. But it was prompted by a generous desire for action that would free the people, and had we been prepared to take advantage of the opportunity, the strength that for want of intelligent leadership was wasted in profitless attacks on Chinese wash-houses would have put us in possession of the city government."
"Do you think you are prepared now?"
"We are ready to seize the opportunities that fortune may offer."
"Why, you're not so absurd as to suppose that you can seize the government now," I said. "Even supposing you might have done something the other night--which I don't think you could--the time has gone by. The city is roused. The Committee of Safety is organized. The militia is under arms. You will certainly land in jail if you make a move, and if you're locked up, there will be one very unhappy girl in this city. For her sake, Parks, keep out of this affair."
"Sir," said Parks, his aggressive manner a little softened, "I am committed. I can not in honor draw back, even to please the best of women. But you underestimate our strength. The Committee of Safety itself springs from the people, and will assist, not hinder, our movement. The militia is recruited from the same class, and will not fire on the people at the command of plutocracy. We shall meet and we shall triumph. Be with us to-night, at eight sharp." And he hurried on.
A second warning of the intended meeting came from Clark, who was lying in wait for me at the office door.
"Parks just told me about it," I said. "What are they going to do?"
"Why, the men of the Council are talking about taking possession of the city government, but the talk of the men around town runs to burning the Pacific Mail docks and the steamers, and running the Chinese out of Chinatown."
"Burning the Mail steamers!" I cried.
"Yes. We've got word that theCity of Tokiois in with a cargo of a thousand coolies, and the men say that the only way to stop them from landing is to burn them in the steamer, and make an end of the docks. Anyhow, if they don't do that, they'll do something else that's likely to be as bad. Waldorf and Reddick held up Bolton in his office last night and got more money out of him--ten thousand or twenty thousand dollars, I don't know which--so they are in funds to organize trouble."
This information seemed to call for action, but I could think of nothing better to do than to order Clark to engage a dozen more stout fellows to be on guard at the Kendrick place in case the mob should pay it another visit. And this done, I walked with some perturbance of mind into the office.
Nelson soon arrived, carefully groomed, fresh-shaven, his side-whiskers trimmed, and his eyeglasses heightening his air of authority, and greeted me with more consideration than he had shown yesterday. A few minutes later Partridge followed in more free and easy fashion.
"I met Coleman on the street just now," said Partridge. "He's too busy with his Vigilantes to do much with us to-day."
"I hope he'll get his twenty thousand men and drive every hoodlum out of town," said Nelson. "Is it true that Kendrick is going to die?"
My heart climbed into my throat at this disturbing question. The business as well as the personal reasons that would make his death a calamity had led me to put this thought rigorously out of my mind, and it was an emotional shock to be compelled to face it.
"I can't think so," I replied, as soon as I could command my voice. "But I'm sorry to say he is no better. When I left the house this morning, he was still unconscious."
"I heard he had no chance," said Nelson, "but I hoped it wasn't so."
For a moment I lost the firmness of mind that had supported me in the trials of the situation. Between the affection I had conceived for Wharton Kendrick and the thought of the confusion in which his affairs would be left, the apprehension of his death threw me into mental distraction. I was recalled by the voice of Partridge:
"Well, we must get down to business. Here's a list of men who will call for loans. There'll be plenty of others. By the way, Hampden, I got pledges of seven hundred and twenty-five thousand more to go into the pool. You can deposit it, if you like, with the rest of the syndicate fund." And he tossed me a bundle of checks.
This simple act of confidence pleased me more than words. These men treated me as one of them. I was trusted as Wharton Kendrick would have been trusted under the same circumstances, and at this certificate of confidence I was warmed by a pardonable glow of pride.
The morning was a repetition of its predecessor, as the elements of the city's commercial woes trickled in concentrated form through the office. It was a depressing business, as the line of embarrassed merchants, brokers and speculators passed rapidly before us. Some were snatched from the brink of ruin. Some were sent about their business as frauds, seeking to use the syndicate's funds in speculation. Some--too unimportant to affect the commercial fabric in their failure--were left to stand or fall as their own strength should determine.
"I never supposed there was so much rotten timber afloat," said Partridge.
William T. Coleman joined us at the lunch hour, and the sight of his face, masterful and calm, renewed our spirits.
"You are keeping things pretty near even in the markets," he said. "We shall weather the gale if there isn't another outbreak."
"Well, that's on the cards," I said. "The circulars are out for another meeting on the sand-lots."
"Come with me, and tell what you know about this, while we have a bite of lunch," he said.
I was more than pleased at this request, but looked doubtfully at the accumulation of papers before us with the feeling that I was the indispensable man at the desk. Coleman interpreted my unspoken thought, and said:
"Oh, sign a dozen checks in blank, and Partridge and Nelson can attend to everything necessary while you are gone."
I was reluctant to surrender my place as dispenser of fortune, even for a brief space of time. The position of a financial magnate in a period of storm and stress was not one that I could conscientiously describe as free from anxieties and perturbations. But it was clothed with power, and power possesses a fascination of its own. Monarchs do not abdicate, except under compulsion; and even among minor office-holders, whose mastership is far more limited than that of a millionaire in business, we have the word of a president that "few die and none resign." But at the compelling glance of William T. Coleman I signed my name to twelve checks, and said that I was happy to attend him.
During our hasty luncheon I told of the warning of coming outbreak that had been given me by Big Sam, of the words of Parks, and of the information I had received from Clark. Then, at his inquiries, I told all that I knew of the Council of Nine--its organization from among the anarchists, socialists and communists, its visionary idea of seizing the city government, and the manner in which it was using the anti-Chinese agitation to secure the physical force to bring about its revolutionary ends.
"You think the anti-Chinese leaders are being used without their knowledge?" asked Coleman thoughtfully.
"To a large extent, yes. They know, of course, that these men have wider designs, but they do not take them seriously."
"Nevertheless," said Coleman, "they may prove dangerous in a crisis like this. They have the reckless courage of leadership that may turn a mob into a destroying body. We must do everything we can to hasten the enrollment and organization of the Committee of Safety's forces. By the way, have you signed the roll yet?"
"No. I haven't had time to think of it."
"This will never do. You are a leading citizen now and must set a good example. Come with me. We have our headquarters in the Chamber of Commerce rooms for the day, but at night we shall assemble in Horticultural Hall. We are going to have a big force, and must have a big armory."
The assembly hall of the Chamber of Commerce was fitted up with desks, and a score of clerks were busy with books and papers. Two or three hundred men had gathered in the hall, and the clerks were surrounded by confused but orderly groups. Coleman led me to one of the desks, and I signed my name while he himself pinned on my coat the badge of the Vigilantes.
As I wrote, I was astonished to see a dozen lines above my pen the signature of Peter Bolton, and it struck fire to my anger that the arch-conspirator--the man who had inspired the disorder that threatened the city--should have enrolled his name among those who pledged their lives and fortunes to its defense. I gave a quick look about the room with the thought that I should discover the spare face and sardonic smile of the curmudgeon enjoying the flutter into which he had thrown the solid men of the city. But he was nowhere to be seen, and I debated whether I should call Mr. Coleman's attention to the matter; but as I remembered that Wharton Kendrick had checked a mention of Bolton's name in Coleman's own house, and saw no present purpose to be served by the discovery, I followed the sound rule of keeping my mouth shut. And as William T. Coleman retired to the office of the Committee of Twenty-four, I returned to my duties.
On entering the door of my office I was given a shock of surprise. A man of spare figure, tall, with bowed and narrow shoulders, sat facing Partridge and Nelson, and presented only his back to my view; but the back was unmistakably the back of Peter Bolton. Nelson leaned forward, watching him with close attention, while Partridge was running rapidly through a bundle of papers.
"I've got to have the money," were the first words that came to me in Peter Bolton's complaining voice. "Here are the securities--pretty good securities, too--better than you took from Packenham, or Hooper, or a dozen others--ten times as good as you took from the Sundown Bank."
Partridge swiftly sorted the papers into two packets. The larger one he threw across the desk to Bolton.
"The banks will take those," he said with crisp brevity. "We can advance three hundred thousand on the others, if necessary. What do you want to do with the money?"
Peter Bolton gave his head a slow shake.
"I've got to save myself from going under," he said in a whining tone. "I've got notes to pay, and three hundred thousand dollars won't cover them. I ought to have a million."
"Let's see the statement of your liabilities," said Partridge.
Peter Bolton fumbled in his inside coat pocket, brought out a large pocket-book, untied the string with which he had secured it, and then looked through its bulging compartments.
"I don't like to show it," he complained. "It's Private Business, and I don't like to trust any one with my Private Business."
"Suit yourself," said Partridge. "Try some other place if you like."
Peter Bolton's trembling hand brought out a sheet of paper from one of the recesses of the pocket-book, and passed it over to Partridge.
"There it is," he said. "You can see I've got to have money right away. If I don't pay them notes, I'll be posted on the Exchange; and you can't afford to have that happen. If I go down, there'll be such a smash in the markets as you've never seen. I shan't go down alone."
Partridge rapidly drew his pencil through several of the items of Peter Bolton's statement.
"Those will renew," he said. "You can get four hundred thousand from the banks on the securities you have in your hand. Three hundred thousand will be enough for us to let you have. It will see you through."
"I don't see how I am to get along without more than that," said Peter Bolton, with a slow shake of the head. "But I'll do the best I can with it." He gave the outward evidences of dissatisfaction, but there was an undertone of triumph in his voice, inaudible to any ear but mine.
I had listened thus far without an attempt to interrupt. I was curious to see what plea Peter Bolton would make in support of his audacious attempt to turn the syndicate's money against the syndicate's objects; and it had not occurred to me as possible that Partridge and Nelson would fail to penetrate his scheme. I forgot for the moment that my colleagues were not informed of the purposes of the arch-plotter, and it was therefore with something of a shock that I heard Partridge consent to put three hundred thousand dollars into Bolton's hands, and saw Nelson dip his pen in ink to fill out the check.
"I beg pardon," I said, stepping forward, "but I think it will be better to hold that money."
At the sound of my voice Peter Bolton gave a violent start, and for a moment his face turned ashy gray, as he seized the arms of the chair to support himself. Then with an effort he recovered his self-possession, and gave me a nod that was meant to be ingratiating.
"Well," said Partridge, "if you'd like to look over Mr. Bolton's papers, here they are."
I waved them away.
"I don't doubt your judgment on the securities. It is beyond question. I merely object to making the loan at all."
Peter Bolton raised his hand, threw back his head with open mouth, and spoke in his most sarcastic drawl.
"Some Young Men like to interfere with Other Men's Business. But all that has been discussed. The matter is settled."
I took up the signed checks that lay before Nelson and replied:
"Oh, no; there are several points to be explained before we go further."
"We haven't time to run a debating club," said Nelson, a little huffed by my strategic move in securing the checks. "We have consented to the loan for excellent reasons. Mr. Bolton's failure would be certain to start the panic we have been staving off for two days."
"Very true. But Mr. Bolton is unduly anxious. He is in no more danger of failing than the Bank of California."
Peter Bolton turned on me with suppressed anger glowing in his eyes, and drew down the corners of his mouth in a sarcastic snarl.
"Maybe, young man, you know more about My Business than I know."
"I shouldn't put it that way," I retorted. "I should say that I know more about your business than you are ready to tell."
Peter Bolton drew down the corners of his mouth again and turned to Partridge with the air of putting me aside.
"Young Men have Strange Ideas," he drawled, "but you are Men of Experience, and you know what it means to refuse this loan. If you are sure a Panic would help your Business, why, all you have to do is to say I can't have the money. If I don't get it, I'll be posted on the Exchange this afternoon."
"And I warn you that Mr. Bolton is perfectly solvent," I said.
Partridge rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and Nelson studied the floor in perplexity.
"I am inclined to overrule Mr. Hampden in this matter," said Partridge; "but he represents Mr. Kendrick, and I don't wish to go in flat opposition to his judgment."
Peter Bolton gave me a malignant glance.
"Judgment! judgment!" he exclaimed in his most sarcastic drawl. "The Young Man knows that Kendrick and I haven't been on good terms, and he thinks he can Curry Favor by ruining me. But if I can have a word with him, I can convince him it's to Kendrick's interest to keep me afloat this time." And seizing my arm, he attempted to draw me to the other end of the room.
"I don't care to hear anything you can't say before these gentlemen," I replied.
"Come just a minute," he persisted, with a wheedling tone in his voice, and drew me to a farther corner. Then he said in a low, eager tone: "It will be fifty thousand dollars in your pocket if you say yes."
"No!" was my curt reply.
"It will be cash," he urged. "You can hold the money out from the advance from the committee. You'll be perfectly safe."
"No!" I repeated, with the emphasis of disgust, and walked swiftly back to the desk. For an instant I had the resolve to explain to my fellow-members the offense that Peter Bolton had proposed. But an uneasy conscience reminded me that I had brought it upon myself, and instead of revealing the shameless offer, I said sharply:
"I ought to have saved time by telling you at the first that nothing could serve this man's profit so well as a panic. He above all other men is responsible for the present troubles, and any money advanced to him will be used against the interests we are here to protect."
Peter Bolton's hand trembled, and a look of desperation came into his eyes. Otherwise he gave no sign of lessening self-possession.
"It's a lie, it's a lie!" he cried. "I shall be ruined." Nelson turned to me.
"That is a very serious assertion. You should be certain of your ground to make such a charge."
"He can't prove it. It's a lie!" repeated Peter Bolton eagerly.
"Mr. Bolton is the father of the present crisis," I said. "He is the financial backer of the agitators that the Committee of Safety has been organized to put down. It was not so much as two weeks ago that he paid thirty thousand dollars to the Council of Nine."
Peter Bolton attempted to resume his sarcastic air, and drew down the corners of his mouth into his sardonic mask, though his lip trembled with the effort.
"You can't believe lies like that," he said, in appeal to Partridge and Nelson.
"And last night," I continued, "he received two members of the Council of Nine in his office, and paid them a sum of money that I believe was ten thousand dollars. It may have been twenty. An armed outbreak is planned for to-night. If it comes, there stands the man who furnished the money for it." And I pointed an accusing finger at the spare, bent form of the arch-conspirator.
At this evidence of the accuracy of my information, the sallow face of Peter Bolton once more turned to an ashy gray, and he looked from side to side as though seeking some avenue of escape. Then he faced me.
"You're talking nonsense," he cried with tense determination in his voice. "Nobody will believe you. You ought to be sent to the asylum."
I looked into his eyes.
"Waldorf and Parks are within call," I said with calm and assured mendacity. "Shall I bring them in?"
Peter Bolton dropped his eyes, trembled as he stood silent for a moment, then seized his papers and walked to the door. As his hand was on the knob, he turned and shook his fist at us.
"I'll smash you yet!" he cried in a harsh voice, his anger getting the better of his fears. "I'll smash you and that scoundrel Kendrick. I'll grind the whole pack of you down into the dirt." And he went out with unexpected nimbleness, and slammed the door behind him.
I looked at my associates with a word of self-congratulation on my tongue. But the shamed and apologetic air with which they studied the documents before them stopped my mouth. It was evident that they needed no one to inform them that they had been gulled by Peter Bolton, and I had the discretion to perceive that the temper of the office would not be improved by discussion of the circumstances. So I took my seat without a word.
The stream of imperiled merchants again trickled through the room, and for an hour we worked rapidly and with exemplary harmony. The self-esteem of Partridge, cut down by the treacherous hand of Peter Bolton, spread and blossomed once more as his skill in estimating the value of securities and the needs of borrowers was put to the test and proved without flaw. The phlegmatic Nelson had shown his discomposure for but a moment, so we were again upon a footing of close confidence.
It was half-past two when Brown, Wharton Kendrick's head clerk, peered in at the door and beckoned to me with a face full of trouble. I made some excuse, and followed him to his office. He closed and locked the door and looked at me in silent dismay.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"We're ruined!" he gasped.
"What's that?" I cried.
"We must close the doors--unless you have three hundred and fifty thousand," he whispered slowly.
He looked at me with the white face and colorless lips of a man in the final stages of nausea. The misfortunes of Wharton Kendrick were taken to heart by at least one man.
"It's some of Mr. Kendrick's notes," he said. "They've just been presented. There's four hundred and fifty thousand of them altogether--lacking a few hundreds, and all the money we've got is a little over one hundred thousand."
"Where do these notes come from? Who presents them?"
"They are made out to different persons; but they are presented by the El Dorado Bank."
"Didn't Mr. Kendrick make any provision to meet them?"
"Maybe he did--I suppose so, for some of them are three weeks overdue. But he never said anything to me about them."
"Let me see them."
The bank's messenger was brought in, and I scrutinized the notes he presented. They were on their face made payable to a dozen or more men--some to one, some to another--but all had been indorsed to Peter Bolton.
There was no time to waste in lamentations, and there was but one resource in sight. I bade the messenger wait a minute, and hastened back to the syndicate's office.
"Here are three checks for you to sign," said Partridge. "The men are waiting for them in the anteroom."
They were for but small amounts, and I hastily added my name to the slips.
"I have something more important yet to lay before you," I said boldly. "I want three hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
"What's that?" cried Partridge.
Nelson looked too shocked for words, and I repeated my request.
"What do you want it for?" demanded Partridge.
"Gentlemen," I replied, "I am sorry to say that we are face to face with the greatest danger we have yet met. Peter Bolton has made good his threat. He has struck quick and hard. He has presented for payment through the El Dorado Bank nearly four hundred and fifty thousand of Wharton Kendrick's notes, and there is only one hundred thousand in the house to pay them with. I must ask you for the balance."
Partridge drew a whistle of surprise, and Nelson turned pale.
"The old fox!" cried Nelson. "We might have known he was up to mischief."
"And he put them in through the El Dorado Bank," said Partridge reflectively. "I wonder if he is with the bank's wrecking combination."
"He is at the head of it," I said.
Partridge drummed on the desk with nervous fingers, and his face took on a grim look. As neither of my associates spoke, I said:
"Well, there can be no doubt of our duty to support Wharton Kendrick in this emergency."
"Of course not," said Partridge. "What security can you offer?"
"Haven't the least idea," I replied curtly.
"You'd better make us a general assignment," said Nelson. "I suppose that will cover it."
"I couldn't think of doing such a thing," I replied, restraining my indignation with an effort. "A note will have to do."
"It's a very irregular proposition," said Nelson. "Even the Sundown Bank has put up a pretense of collateral."
"Well," I returned, "as a business proposition, wouldn't you rather hold Wharton Kendrick's note than the Sundown Bank's collateral?"
"Yes, of course--provided Wharton Kendrick lives. But Wharton Kendrick is likely to die. The question we have to consider is, What will his note be worth in the Probate Court?"
"You see how it is," said Partridge, with the patient air of one instructing a novice. "If you haven't anything to pledge, why, an assignment is the thing."
I faced my associates with the determination to yield nothing.
"I act on the assumption that Wharton Kendrick will get well," I replied. "And if he gets well only to find that I have made a general assignment of his business, how much further do you suppose he will trust me with his affairs?"
"That's all right for you," said Partridge. "But how shall we look when we present our account to the syndicate and show that we have loaned one of our members three hundred and fifty thousand without security? How long do you think it would be before we got a chance to handle any more of their money? We'd be waiting till the next day after never, I guess."
The knot of circumstances seemed to be pretty firmly tangled, and I saw no way but to cut it by a bold stroke.
"I don't want to act without your consent--" I began.
"You have no right to act without our consent," interrupted Partridge, with quick insight into my resolve.
"Right or not, I have the power. And you will be relieved of responsibility if I pay the money without your consent."
"You wouldn't do that!" cried Nelson and Partridge in a breath, their faces showing signs of rising temper.
"I certainly shall do it before I see Wharton Kendrick's notes go to protest and a financial panic start in San Francisco."
Partridge and Nelson looked at me with concern and anger pictured on their faces. But before either could speak, the door opened and William T. Coleman entered.
"You're just in time, Coleman," said Partridge explosively. "See if you can't put reason into this young man's head."
"What's the trouble?" asked Coleman, looking calmly at the flushed and angry countenances before him.
Partridge and I attempted to explain our positions at the same time, but Coleman picked out the facts from the confusion, and with a few tactful questions had the situation clearly in his mind.
"The solution is very simple," he said. "Wharton Kendrick subscribed five hundred thousand to the syndicate. Mr. Hampden will assign us three hundred and fifty thousand out of that sum, and we shall be perfectly protected."
Coleman's plan was so logical and businesslike a way out of our difficulties that I breathed a sigh of relief, and the anger of my associates evaporated in a laugh at our stupidity in not thinking of it for ourselves.
"How much does that leave in the fund?" asked Coleman, when I had taken up the notes, and sent the clerk on his way.
"A trifle over twenty-three thousand."
"Gentlemen," said Partridge, rising with a theatric gesture, "the syndicate retires from business. Thank Heaven it is striking three."
"And what of to-morrow?" I asked.
Partridge shrugged his shoulders.
"I wish to God I knew," he said.