CHAPTER XVIII.
BY SPECIAL DELIVERY.
The words, the tone in which they are spoken, and what he knows of the woman cause Aleck to sympathize with her. At the same time he is surprised to find her in Samson Cereal’s mansion. A suspicion flashes into his mind that perhaps she is here for no good purpose, but he immediately dismisses it with scorn.
“What brings you here—I feel as though I had a right to ask?” he says.
“A double reason—my desire to see my boy, for he is mine even though the cruel law took him from me—and the longing that for one night I might be under the same roof that shelters them both. Once in the long ago we made a happy family. O God! that Satan’s hand came between! Years of atonement have followed—will suffering never wash out a sin like that? But I forget myself—I vowed I would control my feelings if I came. You will not betray one so wretched?”
“Not for worlds. But you must tell me how you managed to gain access here.”
“I know his housekeeper. She was a nurse in the hospital when I was head nurse, and she owed me some gratitude. When I asked this favor she readily granted it, though of course utterly ignorant of my motive.”
He has not forgotten what she declared was her hope—that Heaven would give her a chance to prove her love, her repentance, before the grim Destroyer, who had fastened upon her, came to claim his victim.
Thus he is assured that she will do no harm, though he can hardly believe she is wise in enduring the melancholy pleasure of gazing upon forbidden fruit.
“Have you met him?” he asks, curious to know whether Samson Cereal could suspect.
“Oh, yes! but I am utterly unlike the Adela he married in the long ago. Besides, these glasses which I carry give me a different look.”
She puts them on, and Aleck admits he would not have known her.
“He failed to recognize you, then?”
“Yes. I trembled a little, for he looked at me steadily with those stern eyes; but believing me to be dead years ago, he did not suspect.Oh, sir! imagine my feelings in this house, where but for that one fatal indiscretion I even now might be the proud and happy mistress. God give me courage and strength to warn others to avoid the rocks upon which my life was wrecked.”
“Amen!” says Aleck solemnly, for he feels as though he is in the presence of a priestess.
She turns and leaves him, as some ladies need her assistance. Aleck reflects upon the strange combination of circumstances that have been grouped amid these scenes of pleasure and beauty. The guests move about, singing takes place, with occasional gentle serenades by the company of musicians hidden among the palms and ferns; and none of them even suspect what an undercurrent of human tragedy is occurring beneath the placid surface. Apparently all is mirth and good cheer; people nowadays do not carry their hearts on their sleeves. The swan is said to sing as it dies. Brave mariners on the stormy deep go down with colors flying. So, in this day of sudden changes, men have laughed and joked merrily over yawning financial graves, takingthe old saying to heart, “Let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die.”
Will a thunderbolt drop from this clear sky and bring consternation among those present?
Again he observes Samson Cereal and notes a certain fact. His son has come, and everything passed off well, yet the look of concern is still upon the father’s face, and he glances ever and anon in the direction of the door, as though he longs for yet dreads the coming ofsomething.
Surely this man cannot fear the Turk. Aleck shakes his head negatively at the thought. There is something of the lion in the operator’s make-up. He was a soldier in the war—a young captain at the time he fell in love with the Kentucky girl, Adela; and his reputation has always been that of a brave man. Many a time has he met the masses on the financial battleground, and rolled back the mad assault with the strength of his will. This is hardly the man to fear Scutari at home, when he braved the powerful pasha upon the latter’s own ground. Something else worries him, of which Aleck is ignorant.
He puts two or three things together and then readies a decision.
“I believe it is the expected telegram. Perhaps he has big issues at stake. The life of a speculator is not all rose-colored, I can see,” the Canadian mutters.
By and by Aleck chances to run across the man from Colorado, who greets him with the warmth that is a part of his nature; and the hand-shake that follows is marked by unusual vigor.
“No need of my asking why you are here, Colonel Rocket,” he says meaningly.
“Well, you understood what brought me from Colorado. Business is business with me. I knew Cereal, and took advantage of a former meeting to call, when he asked me to drop in. I’m not in the habit of wearing these duds, you see; and privately, between you and the gate post, Mr. Craig, I rented out this suit from a costumer; but my life has taken me among all classes of men, and I’m pretty much at home wherever I chance to go. Quite a swell gathering here, and I reckon there’ll be a dandy spread to top off with. What d’ye think of him anyway?” with a crook of his thumb over his shoulder.
“Do you mean our host?”
“The deuce, no! It’s John.”
“He makes a fine looking gentleman.”
“Correct, Mr. Craig! Now I’ve had a long experience, and you can bet I’ve seen some strange ones in my day, but I give you my word for it I’ve never set eyes on so smooth a customer. Why, he’d fool the keenest of ’em. His face bears the stamp of honesty. Reckon that’s how he came to have such a good chance to rake in so big a pile.”
“Colonel, have you ever known mistakes to occur in such things?”
Bob Rocket turns his eagle eye upon the other.
“Certainly I have—why?”
“Might it not be possible under these circumstances?”
“Hardly! You saw the picture yourself, and you can see he owns to the name of Phœnix—at least they call him John.”
“Of course I know little or nothing about the many secrets of your business. My only guide is the reading of character on the face, and I admit that is very deceptive.”
“Yes, you have much to learn, sir. It’s been a business with me to study human nature since I was knee high to a duck. I’d be glad, for the old gentleman’s sake, if his boy turned out innocent, but there’s about one chance in fifty of its happening.”
“Speaking of Phœnix reminds me of something. It had slipped my mind before. There’s a young fellow in Chicago from your region who seems to know him.”
“That information might be valuable to me, under certain conditions. Who is he?”
“Bless me, the only name I heard him give was Happy Jack!”
“Not very much to the point.”
“He is stopping at the Sherman House. I met him last night on the Midway under peculiar circumstances,” and Aleck proceeds to relate the adventure near the western exit, when the Turk and his hired myrmidons attempted to carry off a daughter of Chicago.
“Come, I’m interested in Happy Jack. From the words he dropped while in that stupid state it’s plain he’s a Western man; a miner, I reckon. Knows John Phœnix, does he—I may yet have to call upon him toidentify my man, so that I can get the necessary requisition papers. I’ll just make a note of the fact—always jot ’em down—memory might confuse things. There, that settles it beyond all question. Folks must think we’re making a trade. Such things are allowable in the house of a big plunger like Cereal, eh?”
The sheriff from Colorado laughs in a good-natured way, as though he enjoys the joke; but somehow Aleck has found a new matter upon which to ponder, an idea that opens up an avenue the end of which no man can see.
“We’ll wait and see how you turn out, colonel. Meanwhile I’ve written something on this piece of paper—I put it in this envelope and sealed it up. There, place it in your pocket. Now, when the crisis of your game occurs, open this and see how near the truth I’ve come.”
“Quite a clever idea. I’ll do it, by Jove. Here comes some of the ladies, bless ’em! Won’t leave me alone—Cereal been telling some of my adventures and making out I’m a Buffalo Bill sort of a dashing hero. All I want is to keep my man in sight. Only for him and duty,howI would enjoy this 'ereracket. Ladies, your servant. What can I do for you?”
The Colorado sheriff bows with the grace of a Chesterfield, and a chorus of feminine voices arises:
“Oh, Colonel Rocket, Mr. Cereal has just been telling us about the time you rescued a lovely maiden from the Indians who raided the border. He was unable to finish the romance and sent us to you. What became of Mary?”
The colonel’s eyes twinkle.
“Oh! she married a worthless scamp out in Denver afterward, and I reckon has been sorry for it ever since,” he says nonchalantly.
A chorus of indignant exclamations arises.
“It was a shame—after you risked your life to save her!”
The colonel, as they flit away like a bevy of butterflies, turns to Aleck and adds dryly:
“Mary is my wife.”
At this the Canadian bursts out laughing.
“Why didn’t you say so, then?”
“Ah! I’ve cut my eye-teeth, Mr. Craig. So long as they believe me a bachelor there’s a halo of romance around my head, no matterhow homely I may be. Once stamp me a married man, and I’m left to amuse myself—the glamour is gone. Now, my private affairs have nothing to do with these giddy young rosebuds, and I don’t care to have my family under microscopic examination. Hence my silence.”
Aleck falls to musing.
“Wycherley would say you were right. At least I could depend on him until to-night, but he seems to have turned over a new leaf, and there you have him cutting a heavy swell with the banker’s daughter, and playing the devoted. Jove! he’s the most remarkable of men.”
“Quite a clever fellow, and you can bet I’m ready to yell myself hoarse if success comes to him. I wanted to see him on the top wave. He deserves it all. The little sister who is now living with my wife and family never forgets to pray for Claude Wycherley.”
“Well, I think he’s on the road to success, for Samson Cereal has taken to him, and means to utilize some talent he has for reading between the lines of stock quotations.”
“I see—feeling the pulse of the market asit were. Pardon me, every ring at the bell attracts my attention. I must keep an eye on the door. The colored footman opens it. Eureka! a messenger boy with a note. He refuses to deliver it over. Wise chap—long head! Such important matters ought only be given to those they’re meant for. My telegram has arrived. Now we’ll know what’s what, and be able to wind matters up. Ah, there! my colored friend, lead him this way, that’s right. Here I am. Colonel Robert Rocket of Colorado,” and with a broad smile of pleasure, and an eagerness he cannot disguise, the Western sheriff holds out his hand for the message.