CHAPTER XVCALEB CONOVER LIES
One morning, a week or so later, Caine strolled into Conover’s private office. Under the young newspaper owner’s customary jauntiness was a hint of something more serious. Conover, as skilled in reading men as he was ignorant in deciphering any problem relating to woman, was aware, at a glance, of the subtle change.
“Sit down,” he said, nodding to his secretary to go, “What’s wrong? If you’re scared because Steeloid fell off three-quarters of a point yesterday, you can rest easy. I did it myself on ‘match’ sales; and a few others—”
“It isn’t Steeloid,” said Caine, “It’s nothing that really concerns me. But I thought you would want to know about it.”
“Fire away, then,” vouchsafed Caleb, “Have a cigar? These with the gold-an’-red life belts are nice to look at. But if you want something that tastes better’n it looks, try one of the panatelas. The ones without illustrations on ’em. Now what is it?”
“It’s about Miss Shevlin,” began Caine, with reluctance.
Conover’s massive calm fled. He brought down hiscrossed legs from the desk corner with a bang and whirled his chair about.
“Speak it out, quick!” he ordered sharply. “Ain’t sick, is she?”
“No, no. This is different. You’ve heard of Ex-Governor Parkman’s plan to start an anti-graft crusade, of course?”
“Sure!” grinned Caleb, “Them croosades are as certain as measles. Ev’ry city goes through ’em ev’ry once in so often. They don’t do any real hurt and they can’t tie upmybus’ness so’s to bother me any. Let ’em croosade till they’re black in the face. It’ll be good for you noospaper fellers, an’ it won’t harm anybody it’s aimed at. But,” uneasily, “what’s that got to do with Dey?”
“I’m coming to the point if you’ll give me a chance. Parkman’s preparing a set of tables showing not only how municipal funds are squandered at present but how they were misspent in the past. In the course of his investigations, he has come to the City Hall and the County Court House.”
“Well?” queried Conover, “What then? Both of ’em was built ten years ago. That’s over an’ done with.”
“The Shevlin Contracting Company did the work,” interpolated Caine.
“What of that? Neither building’s caved in, has it?”
“Not yet. Though, if all Parkman claims is true,I don’t know why they haven’t. He came to me this morning with the whole story. Proofs, affidavits and all. He wants to give theStarfirst chance to publish the exposure. I told him to come back at noon, and—”
“What exposure?” asked Caleb in perplexity.
“It seems he took pains to hunt up the original specifications on both buildings,” resumed Caine, “And then he hired an architectural expert to go over the plans and the work and see how the two agreed. Thus far, he has found cheap foundations and sandstone bedding where the best concrete and granite were called for. Stucco has been used in no less than four corridors where the plans called for marble. The ‘solid marble pillars’ on the east portico are ‘composition,’ shells filled with cement. Then the facade—”
“Say, son,” interrupted Conover with perfect sincerity, “what in blazes is the matter with you and Parkman? You’ve bit into a mare’s nest, an’ any practical man’ll tell you so. Of course a contractor’s goin’ to make what he can on a job. He ain’t in the business for his health or to endow the city, is he? He’s got to get his, an’ the pol’ticians who throw the job to him have got to get theirs. An’ that bein’ so, how’s he goin’ to foller out all the arch’tect’s spec’fications an’ still make the right money out of it? Hecan’t. I thought ev’rybody knew that much pol’tics.”
“Conover,” observed Caine, in unwilling admiration.“I’ve heard people say you’re a man of bad morals. It isn’t true. You’re simply a man of no morals at all. Do you mean to say—?”
“I mean to say business is business an’ pol’tics is business too. I never heard of any good comin’ from mixin’ up morals with either of ’em. If you came here to-day to tell me this story, with an idee that I’d slap my manly brow an’ say: ‘Great heaven! Can such things be?’ you’ve brought your s’prise party to the wrong house. Of course, Shevlin made a good thing out of those two buildin’s. Even after the folks higher up had got their rake-off, I guess he must a’ cleaned up close to $800,000. An’ then the old fool went an’ blowed it all in Wall Street, an’ died before he could make a new pile. But, say! What’s this got to do with—?”
“With Miss Shevlin? I am coming to that. This ‘mare’s nest,’ as you call it, that Parkman has unearthed, may look harmless to you and to other practical business-politicians. But to nine people out of ten it will have very much the look of bare-faced robbery. So much so that it will prove the biggest newspaper sensation of the year. Mr. Shevlin will be everywhere spoken of as—”
“I catch your meanin’!” broke in Caleb, “The ‘Holier’n Thou’ crowd will raise a yell, drag Shevlin out of his snug, comf’table grave an’ croocify him. He’ll be spoke of by the papers an’ by the man on the street as the rottenest grafter of the century. An’ ev’rywhere Dey goes, folks’ll nudge each other an’whisper: ‘Them fine clo’es was bought out o’ the dough her ol’ man stole from the city.’ An’ all the time there’s no less than a dozen cases of city graft goin’ on in Granite to-day that are raw enough to make Shevlin’s deals look like a game of Old Maid! Still,” he muttered, dropping his head on his chest in thought, “all that won’t keep this story from queerin’ Dey in s’ciety and givin’ her a black eye as the daughter of a crook.”
“That’s why I put off Parkman till I could see you,” explained Caine, “He came direct to me with the news. It’s lucky I happened to be in town. If he had gone to my managing editor instead, there would be a scare-head Extra on the streets by now.”
“Well,” returned Conover, “the story’s got to be hushed up, of course. An’ I hate to pay hush-money. But I guess this is one of the times when it’s got to be done. I wonder what’s Parkman’s price?”
Caine laughed, mirthlessly.
“Parkman’s as rich a man as you are,” he said, “And he’s so upright that he bends backward. He would like nothing better than to prove attempted bribery against you. No, the adage about ‘every man having his price’ won’t apply in Parkman’s case.”
“Rot!” growled Conover. “There ain’t a case on earth where it won’t apply. The price ain’t always money; but it’s always dead sure to besomethin’. Only, I ain’t got time, I s’pose, to find out what Parkman’s partic’lar rates are. I wish I had. If I’d had wind of this a week earlier I’d have been able by nowto lay my finger on his pet weakness or fav’rite sin or cash price an’ say ‘Shut up!’ An’ he’d a’ done it, quicker’n greased lightning.”
“You’re mistaken,” averred Caine. “But that has nothing to do—”
“I know it has nothin’ to do with this muddle we’re in now,” snapped Conover, “I ain’t sayin’ it has. But Parkman has his price just the same, if only we could find out what it is. There never was but one Man that hadn’t. An’ that was why they put Him to death. What do you want for keepin’ the story out of theStar?” he ended, abruptly.
Caine’s handsome face contracted in sudden wrath. Then, in spite of himself, he broke into a laugh.
“If only youknewbetter,” he sighed in comic resignation, “you’d be horsewhipped three times a week. What a mighty, impregnable armor is profound ignorance! Unfortunately,” he went on, more gravely, “I couldn’t avail myself of your very tactfully veiled offer even if I chose. TheStaris but one of Granite’s four daily newspapers. If I refuse to print the story, the three others remain to—”
“H’m,” mused Conover. “I s’pose so. I s’pose so. In another five years there won’t be a paper in Granite that’ll dare print a word I tell ’em not to. I wish now I’d bought up their stock already; instead of waitin’ until I get some more important deals off my hands. A noospaper is a good weapon for a big man to keep for emergencies. If ’twasn’t for the papers I could a’ pulled off lots of dandy schemes.What a cinch the old-time business men must a’ had before printin’ was invented!”
His voice trailed away. His head once more sank. His eyes were shut; his forehead contracted.
“I thought it only fair—” began Caine.
“Shut up!” grunted Conover, “I’m thinkin’. Leave me be.”
Caine, in no wise offended, held his peace, and watched the big concentrated figure that sprawled so motionless in the desk chair. For several minutes the two sat in silence. Then Caleb opened his eyes. The frown had cleared; the light of battle flickered beneath his shrewd lids.
“Caine,” he said solemnly, “I got a confession to make. You’re the first to hear it. So be flattered. Caine, Ol’ Man Shevlin had nothin’ to do with the Shevlin Contractin’ Company, at the time the City Hall an’ the County Courthouse was started. Six months before then, he’d sold out the whole business to me.”
“What are—?”
“Hold on a second,” ordered Caleb. “Hear all the sad, sad secret before you fly up in the air. I bought out the Shevlin Contractin’ Com’pany, lock, stock an’ bar’l; good will an’ fixtures. I still ran it under Shevlin’s name, so’s to get the good of his old trade. That’s why I worked through agents.Ididn’t appear in it at all. I built the Court House an’ the noo City Hall, an’ made close onto a million out of the deal. It was crooked work if you like. But thestatoot of limitations’ll keep me from bein’ indicted for it, I guess. An’ if I am indicted, I’ll bet fifty dollars to fifty doughnuts the case’ll never come to trial. Yessir, I’m the guilty man, all right. An’ I can prove it.”
“Are you quite through?” asked Caine with exaggerated politeness, as the Fighter paused.
“Yep. That’s ’bout all. Good story for the papers, hey?”
“An excellent story—for the horse marines,” retorted Caine. “Really, Conover,” he continued almost plaintively, “I don’t see what overt acts of idiocy I have ever committed that you should offer so vile an insult to my intelligence.”
“What d’ye mean?” queried Caleb with bland innocence.
“I mean, every word of that rigmarole is a thread in one of the clumsiest tangles of lies I have ever had the misfortune to listen to. I thought better of your inventive powers!”
“You don’t believe me?” exclaimed Conover, aggrieved.
“I’m not lucky enough to have had the Chess Queen’s training in ‘believing at least three impossible things before breakfast every morning,’” misquoted Caine. “Really, Conover, did it never occur to you that telling an unnecessary lie is almost tempting Providence?”
“The story’s true,” persisted Caleb, doggedly, “Just like I told it to you. I owned the Shevlin Contractin’Comp’ny. Shevlin had been out of it six months. I was the one that did the graftin’ when the two buildin’s was put up. An’ I ain’t ashamed of it.”
Caine looked long, quizzically, into the light, alert eyes that so brazenly met his.
“I really believe you mean to stick to it,” he said at last. “But why? And don’t you see that a single glance at the records will disprove it all? If Shevlin really transferred his business to you, there would be a record of it.”
“There’ll be a record—if it’s needed,” countered the Fighter, “That the easiest part of it all. But it won’t be needed. My say-so will be b’lieved for once. Folks won’t s’pose a man would accuse himself of bein’ a crook if he was reelly on the square.”
“Do as you please,” replied Caine impatiently, “but don’t keep up the farce withme.”
“All right,” assented Caleb with cheerful acquiescence, “I won’t, if it jars you. But that’s the story that’s goin’ out under my name. An’ you’re the man who’s goin’ to help me. Now, listen to me, an’ be sure you get my instructions right. An’ don’t butt in with any objections. Because I need you to help me. If you don’t, some other paper will. May as well get a ‘beat’ for theStar. Besides, you know I can help folks sometimes who helps me. There’s other deals besides Steeloid. Will you stand by me? Is it a go?”
The Fighter’s tone had deepened to a growl thatheld more menace than appeal. His eyes were fixed in scowling command on his visitor’s face.
“This cringing attitude of yours touches me to the heart,” said Caine; speaking lightly, though he felt the other’s magnetic domination throughout his entire being, “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you,” dictated Conover, “to go back to your office and send for your best reporter. Don’t put this up to your managin’ editor, but handle it yourself. The reporter will work a lot better when he thinks it’s a story the owner’s int’rested in. That’s workman-nature, ain’t it?”
“Go ahead,” smiled Caine, fighting against that merciless domination which found expression in the man himself, not in his words.
“Send for your best, sharpest reporter,” resumed Caleb, “Give him an outline of this case against old Shevlin. Tell him to spread himself on it. As a starter, tell him Shevlin an’ me used to be friends, an’ suggest that he’d better chase around here first of all an’ interview me, to find out if I ever heard of the graft trick that was worked on those two public buildin’s. I never let reporters get in here; but I’ll make an exception in this case, ’cause he’ll bring a pers’nal note from my pers’nal friend, Amzi Nicholas Caine, Esquire. I’ll talk to him kind of guarded-like. But pretty soon I’ll get rattled under his questions, an’ let out enough to put him on the right track. Then when I see he’s s’picious, I’ll give in an’ tell him the whole thing, an’ exonerate ol’ Shevlin to beat the band.That reporter’ll feel like the man who went out for squirrels an’ brought home a bear. Then, when he reports back to you, I want you should be firm in your dooty to the c’moonity. You must decide that pers’nal friendship can’t stand in the way of the public’s sacred right to find out things that’s none of their business. Print the whole terr’ble trooth. Don’t spareme. But see that you clear Shevlin’s name till it shines like it had a Sat’dy night bath. An’Dey—ain’t—to—be—mentioned! Understand?”
“Perfectly,” answered Caine, “And I’ll do nothing of the sort.”
“D’ye mean you—?”
“I mean just this: You are the most conscienceless, inhuman brute I ever met; but I have a sort of morbid liking for you. Besides, as you so often take graceful occasion to remind me, I am in your debt for certain financial favors. Also, I have some regard for the truth of what appears in my own newspaper. For all those reasons—and for several more—I’m not going to help you to commit social suicide, nor to stamp yourself as more of a highwayman than you really are. Is that plain?”
“So plain that it’s plumb ugly,” replied Caleb, “But you’ll do it just the same. If it ain’t theStar, it’ll be one of the other papers. That story’s goin’ to be in print by to-morrow mornin’. You speak ’bout likin’ me an’ bein’ in my debt. The best way you can show that likin’ an’ gratitood is by doin’ as I ask now. TheStar’sthe best paper in Granite an’ it’sread by the best people. Don’t you s’pose I’d rather have folks get their first idee of the story from such a paper as that than to have ’em see it plastered all over the front page of some screechin’ sheet, in letters two feet high?”
“But,” argued Caine, “What sense is there in doing it at all?”
“From a grown man’s point of view,” admitted Caleb, “There ain’t a mite of sense in it. It’s straight craziness. But if you think I’m goin’ to let Dey go around knowin’ the trooth about her old crook of a father who she worships, you’re wrong. She thinks he was a measly saint with a tin halo. An’ she gets pleasure out of thinkin’ it. An’ she’s goin’ to go right on thinkin’ it to the end of the game. What sort of a yellow dog wouldIbe to let her hear things about him that’d make her cry an’ that would sure break her heart? There’s another thing: She’s got into a good crowd now. She goes to folks’ houses an’ has a good time there. Who’s goin’ to invite a crook’s daughter to their house? Or, do you think she’d go to such places, knowin’ how they thought of her father? Not her. She’d die first. Why, ev’ry time folks looked at her in the street, she’d be thinkin’ to herself: ‘It ain’t because I’m so pretty an’ ’cause my eyes look like two chunks of heaven, an’ ’cause when I smile at you it makes you feel as if someone had lent you money.’ She’d think: ‘They’re pointin’ me out as the daughter of Shevlin who stole cash from the city!’ No, no, son! She ain’t goin’ to have none of thosethings happen to her. Not while Caleb Conover’s on deck. Butterfly smashin’ ain’t in my line. That’s why I say you’ve got to help me. An’ you’ll do it, too.”
“Of course you know,” suggested Caine, “that this will ruin those weird social ambitions of yours?”
“I know nothin’ of the sort. Even if I did, I s’pose I’d have it to do just the same. But it won’t. I’m too well off to go to jail; or to have folks say: ‘Get out!’ when I say ‘Let me in!’ There’ll be a sight of talk in the papers an’ all through the State. But folks get tired talkin’, after awhile. An’Inever get tiredrisin’. So I’ll win out. When I flash on ’em that merger of the Up-State R. R. with my C. G. & X., they’ll see I’m too big a man to be sat on. That’s comin’ off next week, by the way. An’ bigger schemes to foller. Oh, folks won’t be sore on me long! So you see it ain’t such a great stunt of heroism I’m doin’ for the little girl after all. Now you’d better start. For we—”
“But Miss Shevlin? She will read what the papers are bound to say of you. She will hear what her friends—”
“Yes,” ruefully admitted the Fighter, “She will. I’ll have to take my chances on that. If she drops me, why it’s better’n if s’ciety droppedher. Better for ev’rybody concerned. Unless maybe forme. How’s Miss Standish?”
“Quite well, thank you. She—”
“I’ve been meanin’ to come ’round and pay thatdinner call. But I’ve been pretty busy. An’ Dey says there’s no great hurry.”
“Just now,” answered Caine, remembering Letty’s moist appeal, “The Standish household is a little upset. I’d call sometime later, if I were you. They will understand. Clive Standish is down with mumps, poor little chap.”
“There’s only two kind of kids,” philosophized Conover, “Bad ones and sick ones. But I ain’t afraid of catchin’ anything. I’ll be ’round there in a day or two, tell her.”
“By the way,” remarked Caine, to change the subject he found vaguely distasteful, “Miss Shevlin tells me she has been invited to spend the summer at the Hawardens’ cottage at the Antlers.”
“Yes,” returned Caleb, drily, “Kind of Mrs. Hawarden, wasn’t it? Dey’s as pleased as a small boy with a revolver. She’s been crazy to go to the Adirondacks. I never knew she wanted to till last week, or—”
“And Mrs. Hawarden providentially invited her the next day?” put in Caine, his mouth-corners twitching.
“That’s right,” assented Caleb, “I guess some big-hearted philanthrofist just took such a fancy to Mrs. Hawarden as to pay the whole fam’ly’s board bill there for the season;—on condition she asked Dey. But keep that to yourself; for maybe it’s just a wrong guess. An’ I wouldn’t have Dey know it for a thousand dollars. Now go an’ send that reporter here.”
“I wonder,” mused Caine, as he departed on his queer mission, “what Caleb Conover would be if all the rest of the world were like Desirée Shevlin. It’s more interesting, though,” he added, “to conjecture what he would be likewithoutDesirée Shevlin. Where would he stop, if she were out of his life?”