CHAPTER XXIII.
WHAT THE OLD CAMEL BLANKET CONCEALED.
“Happy Jack” knows enough of dramatic rules of rhetoric to pause after this climax. He changes his posture, thrusts one hand into the breast of his coat,à laNapoleon, whilethe other emphasizes his words with pointed and quivering finger. Taken in all, he makes a fine study. Those present, realizing that the fellow really has something of importance to tell, listen with attention, and this gives him courage to pose as might a Cicero addressing the Roman courts of old.
“I have not had the pleasure of being introduced, sir, but I take it that you are the lordly host of the manor, Samson Cereal. Glad to see you—happy to have been of service to your daughter last night—delighted to meet you now, for it is against the king of the wheat pit the Turk’s arrows are directed.
“He’s a good hater, I knew that as soon as I set eyes on him; and it would make your flesh creep to hear him tell the many things he would do to wipe out the past, if ever he caught one Samson Cereal on Turkish soil. That is not to the point, however. They settled down to business after a while, and we had it all.
“Now pay attention, friends, and I will tell you what is in the wind. This vendetta of Cairo Street aims to carry out the will of a master mind. Against two persons thegrudge is held, one of them our Canadian friend, who has interfered with the nabob’s plans in several ways, the other King Cereal himself.
“I learned that one of the men was in your employ, sir, and you may recognize him by the name of Anthony, which I heard him called.”
“The rascal, the traitor—and I have done so much for him!” says the operator angrily.
“Never mind. He is an ungrateful dog, and the Turk’s gold bought him. I understand that you expect a friend or two here to-morrow, and have arranged to show them the Midway in the evening, as they are especially interested in the foreign countries or something in that line; didn’t bother my head to catch the particulars. Well, sir, these fellows have got it in for you and Craig. The trap will be set and baited, and before another day dawns on Chicago, Turkish vengeance wins.
“This is to be brought about by strategy, gentlemen, in which a woman figures whom the said Samson Cereal has long believed dead.”
“Don’t mention her again,” says the operator, turning deathly white, and thinking ofDorothy, who must hear every word; but although the sudden warning causes Phœnix to be more guarded in his speech, what he has already said has aroused a curiosity in the mind of Dorothy that will grow rapidly, until it brings her in at the grand climax.
“In palmy days of yore, before I took to tramping in order to see the undercurrent of life, I used to be a shorthand reporter, and my old tricks of the trade cling to me still. Under that miserable old camel blanket, with a gleam of electric light coming in at a hole, I did some of the tallest scribbling of my experience, jotting down whatever seemed of importance. Lo, the result, messieurs, of that enterprise!”
He takes from his pocket a notebook, and shows page after page of scribbling, the strange hieroglyphics of the stenographer. The lines awry and the characters often faulty, but, considering the peculiar circumstances under which it was written, the work is rather creditable to the scribe.
“A little out of practice, I fear, gentlemen, but on the whole I reckon you can have it easily written out into everyday English.Between these covers lies a story as thrilling, as weird as any I ever read inPuck. It will a tale unfold to harrow up your soul and make your blood run cold.
“This, then, I leave as a legacy. Hire some poor hungry devil of a shorthand writer to spin the yarn. My word for it, you will be amply repaid. I would dearly love to undertake the task myself, without hope of reward, but two things prevent. I always hated rendering into prosy English the poetic signs of shorthand. Then again my time is limited in this romantic city by the lakeside. I am uneasy—like the Wandering Jew I find no rest, but must cross the border to Canada’s domain. An important engagement necessitates my leaving on the next train. Hence, you will excuse me if I retire. Aleck, my dear boy, always remember you with pleasure. Look you up in Montreal if I settle there. Reckon I’ll make a good Canuck in the end. Mr. Cereal, yours to command. Young lady, proud to have served one so lovely. As to you, sir,” addressing the party who still persists in keeping his back turned, “if you will step outside with me, where we run no chance of disturbing the elements ofthis charming gathering, the question of your right to break upon my narrative with insulting grunts that are significant of contempt will speedily be settled,” and with this explosive shot the man from Denver takes a step toward the door.
“We can settle the whole business right here and now, Phœnix, my boy,” says John suddenly.
At the sound of that voice, together with the mention of his name, Happy Jack whirls around, uttering a sharp cry. John’s back is no longer toward him—they look into each other’s face. Phœnix is terribly stricken. As if by magic the jaunty air leaves him, his knees quake, and his whole appearance is that of a man upon whom a thunderbolt has descended without the slightest warning.
“Good God! John Atherton—here!”
“Why not—my father’s house. The question is what brings you here—you whose duty lay in faithful service while I was away. Ah, Jack! your eyes fall. I was terribly mistaken in you. We know all. Colonel Bob Rocket, a sheriff from Denver, left this house not more than fifteen minutes ago. He wantsyou.”
The young man’s appearance has undergone a terrible change. Sudden fear sets its stamp upon his face. For days he has kept this panic away from his mind by continual libations, so that he has been in a hilarious condition. Without warning the mask drops and he finds himself face to face with the man who has trusted him. All is known. The end is at hand—the terrible termination that generally winds up such cases as his. Before his eyes looms up the penitentiary or perhaps the dreadful fate of a suicide.
Caught!
No wonder his head hangs in shame—no wonder he dares not meet the eye of the man he so basely deceived.
“Jack, how much of that money have you squandered?” asks the president firmly.
“Less than a thousand, sir.”
Jack seems to feel compelled to talk, even against his will. He has been accustomed to manifest the deepest respect for John Atherton.
“Have you the rest of it with you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me have it.”
He acts like one in a dream, taking out a roll of bills and handing it to Atherton.
“You may not believe me, sir, but I’m really glad it’s off my person. The temptation came; like a fool I yielded, and I’ve had not a minute of peace since. Now, do with me what you please. I deserve no mercy.”
“Jack, you have a mother.”
“For God’s sake, sir, don’t remind me of that! It’s the thought of her that’s set me almost crazy. My ruin will kill her,” and a shudder convulses his frame.
If he had only considered his mother more before starting into this ugly business, he might have avoided the disgrace.
Atherton is in a position to be lenient. Besides, he has always had a great interest in the young man.
“Have you anything left, Jack?” he asks.
“A few dollars, I believe, sir,” fumbling in his pockets, as if to chase the fugitive pieces.
“No, no, I didn’t mean that. Here is one hundred dollars.”
“Sir?” gasps Phœnix.
“I may be compounding a felony, but I’ll take my chances of that. Leave this city andcross over, as you intended, to Canada. There endeavor to be a better man. This will all be hushed up, and your mother need never know of it. I do this, Jack, my boy, to give you a chance to redeem yourself.”
At this Phœnix breaks completely down, his form shakes as great sobs rack his frame.
“Oh, Mr. Atherton! what a vile wretch I have been to abuse your confidence. A man never had a better friend than you have been to me. How can I ever thank you enough for giving me this chance. In her name, my poor mother’s, I bless you. Yes, I will go to Canada, and in the sight of Heaven I swear that if I live to threescore years and ten nothing can ever tempt me to fall again. This lesson has taught me I am not made for a rascal; my peace of mind demands that I have a clear conscience. Would you condescend to shake hands with me before I go, sir?”
“Willingly, Jack; and if you can show me a year from now what you have done—if you can prove to me that this lesson has sunk into your heart, I’ll give you another trial, Jack.”
“God bless you, sir. You will hear from me if I live.”
Unable to say another word the young man turns and leaves the library. If any of the guests see him as he quits the house, their curiosity must be aroused by his manifest signs of emotion.
“There will be one disappointed man in Chicago, I warrant,” says Aleck, whose eyes are moist.
“You mean Bob Rocket. I can fix the matter up with him. In that case it’s only a question of dollars and cents. Under the circumstances I feel as though I had made a wise move. Almost the entire sum recovered, and poor Jack given a chance to redeem himself. What a strange fatality led him to this place to-night. It was probably a fortunate thing for him, as the colonel by this time would have had hold of him.”
There is much that Wycherley does not understand, but he is not in a position to ask questions, so he guesses how things have gone. Aleck is relieved in several ways. There remains one more cause for speculation—the presence of Adela under this roof. Will she continue to keep her presence a secret from the man who was once her husband?Seeing her boy must indeed be a source of mingled joy and grief, since, yearning to make herself known, she dares not for fear of being repulsed.
If the opportunity comes, he means to see her again and find out if something cannot be done to ease her last steps through life, for the end is not far away—Aleck is enough of a physician to read that in the hectic flush on her cheeks.
They pass out among the guests. At the first opportunity Aleck tells Wycherley about her presence here, and that worthy is surprised, but knowing her story, soon grasps the situation. Can anything be done to aid her cause? They hardly dare approach the stern old man with the story, not being able to hazard a guess as to how he will take it. Something they have not counted on takes a hand in the game—the same power that brought Jack Phœnix to the house where his employer chanced to be—that peculiar combination of circumstances known as Fate.