Jane Cable

by George Barr McCutcheon

  The spring floods delayed the Eastern Express, bringing the partyto Chicago nearly a day late. The Cables and the Harbins wentat once to the Annex, where David Cable had taken rooms. They hadgiven up their North Side home some months before, both he and hiswife retiring into the seclusion that a great hotel can afford whennecessary.

  Graydon hurried off to his father's office, eager, yet half fearingto meet the man who was responsible for the broken link in hislife--this odd year. He recalled, as he drove across town, that afull year had elapsed since he spent that unforgettable night inElias Droom's uncanny home. Was he never to forget that night--thatnight when his soul seemed even more squalid than the home of therecluse?

  All of his baggage, except a suit case, had been left at thestation. He did not know what had become of his belongings in theformer home of his father. Nor, for that matter, did he care.

  At the U---- Building he ventured a diffident greeting to theelevator boy, whom he remembered. The boy looked at him quizzicallyand nodded with customary aloofness. Graydon found himself hopingthat he would not meet Bobby Rigby. He also wondered, as the carshot up, how his father had managed to escape from the meshes thatwere drawn about him on the eve of his departure. His chances hadlooked black and hopeless enough then; yet, he still maintainedthe same old offices in the building. His name was on the directoryboard downstairs. Graydon's heart gave a quick bound with thethought that his father had proved the charges false after all.

  Elias Droom was busy directing the labours of two able-bodied menand a charwoman, all of whom were toiling as they had never toiledbefore. The woman was dusting law books and the men were packingthem away in boxes. The front room of the suite was in a state ofdevastation. A dozen boxes stood about the floor; rugs and furniturewere huddled in the most remote corner awaiting the arrival of the"second-hand man"; the floor was littered with paper. Droom wasdirecting operations with a broken umbrella. It seemed like a lashto the toilers.

  "Now, let's get through with this room," he was saying in his mostimpelling way. "The men will be here for the boxes at four. I don'twant 'em to wait. This back room stuff we'll put in the trunks.Look out there! Don't you see that nail?"

  Eddie Deever, with his usual indolence, was seated upon the edgeof the writing table in the corner, smoking his cigarette, andcommenting with rash freedom upon the efforts of the perspiringslaves.

  "How long are you going to keep these things in the warehouse?" heasked of Droom.

  "I'm not going to keep them there at all. They belong to Mr.Bansemer. He'll take them out when he has the time."

  "He's getting all the time he wants now, I guess." commented Eddie."Say, talking about time, I'll be twenty-one next Tuesday."

  "Old enough to marry."

  "I don't know about that. I'm getting pretty wise. Do you know,I've just found out how old Rosie Keating is? She's twenty-nine.Gee, it's funny how a fellow always gets stuck on a girl older thanhimself! Still, she's all right. I'm not saying a word against her.She wouldn't be twenty-nine if she could help it."

  "I suppose it's off between you, then."

  "I don't know about that, either. We lunched at Rector's to-day.That don't look like it's off, does it? Four sixty-five, includingthe tip. She don't look twenty-nine, does she?"

  "I've never noticed her."

  "Never--well, holy mackerel! You must be blind then. She says she'sseen you in the elevator a thousand times. Never noticed HER? Gee!"

  "I mean, I've never noticed anyone who looked less than twenty-nine.By the way, do you ever see Mr. Rigby? I believe she is in hisoffice."

  "I don't go to Rigby's any more," said Eddie, with sudden stiffness."He's a cheap skate."

  "I HEARD he threw you out of the office one day," with a dry cackle.

  "He did not! We couldn't agree in certain things regarding theBansemer affair, that's all. I told him to go to the devil, orwords to that effect."

  "Something loose about your testimony, I believe, wasn't there?"

  "Oh, the whole thing doesn't amount to a whoop. I'm trying to getRosie another job. She oughtn't to write in there with that guy."

  "Well, you're twenty-one. Why don't you open an office of your own?Your mother's got plenty of money. She can buy you a library anda sign, and that is all a young lawyer needs in Chicago."

  "Mother wants me to run for alderman in our ward, next spring. I'llbe able to vote at that election."

  "You've got as much right in the council as some others, I suppose."

  "Sure, mother owns property. The West Side ought to be as wellrepresented as the North Side. Property interests is what we needin the council. That's--"

  "I don't care to hear a political speech, boy. Are you busy thisafternoon?"

  "No. I wouldn't be here if I was."

  "Then get up there and hand those books down to me. Nobody loafsin this office to-day."

  "Well, doggone, if that isn't the limit! All right. Don't get mad.I'll do it." The young gentleman leisurely ascended to the top ofthe stepladder and fell into line under the lash.

  "Young Mr. Graydon Bansemer will be here this afternoon," saidDroom. "I want to get things cleaned up a bit beforehand."

  "How does he feel about his father?"

  "He doesn't know about him, I'm afraid."

  "Gee! Well, it'll jar him a bit, won't it?"

  The office door was opened suddenly and a tall young man strodeinto the room, only to stop aghast at the sight before him. Droom'slank figure swayed uncertainly and his eyes wavered.

  "What's all this?" cried Graydon, dropping his bag and coming towardthe old man, his hand outstretched. Droom's clammy fingers restedlifelessly in the warm clasp.

  "How are you, Graydon? I'm--I'm very glad to see you. You arelooking well. Oh, this? We--we are moving," said the old man. Thehelpers looked on with interest. "Come into the back office. Itisn't so torn up. I didn't expect you so soon. They said it wastwenty-four hours late. Well, well, how are you, my boy?"

  "I'm quite well again, Elias. Hard siege of it, I tell you. Moving,eh? What's that for?"

  "Never mind those books, Eddie. Thank you for helping me. Come insome other time. You fellows--I mean you--pack the rest of theseand then I'll tell you what to do next. Come in, Graydon."

  Eddie Deever took his departure, deeply insulted because he hadnot been introduced to the newcomer. Graydon, somewhat bewildered,followed Droom into his father's consultation room. He looked aroundinquiringly.

  "Where is father? I telegraphed to him."

  An incomprehensible grin came into Droom's face. He twirled theumbrella in his fingers a moment before replying. His glance atthe closed door was no more significant than his lowered tones.

  "It didn't go very well with him, Graydon. He isn't here any more."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean the trial. There was a trial, you see. Haven't you heardanything?"

  "Trial? He--he was arrested?" came numbly from the young man'slips.

  "I can't mince matters, Graydon. I'll get it over as quickly aspossible. Your father was tried for blackmail and was convicted.He is in--he's in the penitentiary."

  The son's face became absolutely bloodless; his eyes were fullof comprehension and horror, and his body stiffened as if he wereturning to stone. The word penitentiary fell slowly, mechanicallyfrom his lips. He looked into Droom's eyes, hoping it might be ajoke of the calloused old clerk.

  "You--it--it can't be true," he murmured, his trembling hands goingto his temples.

  "Yes, my boy, it is true. I didn't write to you about it, becauseI wanted to put it off as long as I could. It's for five years."

  "God!" burst from the wretched son. A wave of shame and grief sentthe tears flooding to his eyes. "Poor old dad!" He turned and walkedto the window, his shoulders heaving. Droom stood silent for a longtime, watching Bansemer's son, pity and triumph in his face.

  "Do you want to hear about it?" he asked at last. Graydon's headwas bent in assent.

  "It came the day after y
ou left Chicago with the recruits. I knewyou would not read the newspapers. So did he. Harbert swore outthe papers and he was arrested here in this office. I believe hewould have killed himself if he had been given time. His revolverwas--er--not loaded. Before the officers came he discharged me.I was at liberty to go or to testify against him. I did neither.Of course, I was arrested, but they could only prove that I was aclerk who knew absolutely nothing about the inside workings of theoffice. I offered to go on his bond but he would not have me. Hemade some arrangement, through his attorney, and bail was secured.In spite of the fact that he was charged with crime, he insisted onkeeping these offices and trying to do business. It wasn't becausehe needed money, Graydon, but because he wanted to lead an honestlife, he said. He has a great deal of money, let me tell you. Thegrand jury indicted him last spring but the trial did not come upuntil last month--nearly a year later--so swift is justice in thiscity. In the meantime, I saw but little of him. I was working onan invention and, besides, there were detectives watching everymovement I made. I stuck close to my rooms. By the way, I want toshow you a couple of models I have perfected. Don't let me forgetit. They--"

  "Yes, yes--but father? Go on!"

  "Well, the trial came up at last. That man Harbert is a devil. Hehad twenty witnesses, any one of whom could have convicted yourfather. How he got onto them, I can't imagine. He uncovered everydeal we've--er--he had in Chicago and--"

  "Then he really was guilty!" groaned Graydon.

  "Yes, my boy, I knew it, of course. They could not force me totestify against him, however. I was too smart for them. Well, tomake it short, he was sentenced five weeks ago. The motion for anew trial was overruled. He went to Joliet. If he had been a popularalderman or ward boss he would have been out yet on continuances,spending most of his sentence in some fashionable hotel, to say theleast."

  "Is he--wearing stripes?"

  "Yes, it's the fashion there."

  "For God's sake, don't jest. For five years!" The young man sankinto a chair and covered his face with his hands.

  "There'll be something off for good behaviour, my boy. He wantedto behave well before he went there, so I suppose he'll keep itup. The whole town was against him. He didn't have a friend."

  "How did you escape?" demanded Graydon, looking up suddenly."State's evidence?"

  "No, not even after he tried to put most of the blame upon me. Hetried that, my boy. I just let him talk. It saved me from prison.Usually the case with the man who keeps his mouth closed."

  "But, Elias--Elias, why have I been kept in the dark? Why did henot tell me about it? Why has--"

  "You forget, Graydon, that you turned from him first. You werereally the first to condemn him. He wanted you to stay away fromthis country until he is free. That was his plan. He didn't wantto see you. Now he wants you to come to him. He wants you to bringJane Cable to see him."

  "What!"

  "Yes, that's it. I believe he intends to tell her the names ofher father and mother. I think he wants her to forgive him and hewants to hear both of you say it to him."

  Graydon stared blankly from the window. The old clerk was smilingto himself, an evil, gloating smile that would have shocked Bansemerhad he turned suddenly.

  "He wants both of us to--to come to the penitentiary?" mutteredthe son.

  "Yes, as soon as possible. Do you think she'll go?" demanded Droomanxiously.

  "I don't know. I'm afraid not."

  "Not even to learn who her parents are?"

  "It might tempt her. But she hates father."

  "Well, she can gloat over him, can't she? That ought to be somesatisfaction. Talk it over with her. She's here, isn't she?"

  "Elias, do you know who her parents were?" asked Graydon quickly."I've thought you knew as much about it as father."

  The old man's eyes shifted.

  "It's a silly question to ask of me. I was not a member of the FourHundred, my boy."

  "Nor was my father. Yet you think he knows."

  "He's a much smarter man than I, Graydon. You'll go with me to seehim?"

  "Yes. I can't speak for Miss Cable."

  "See her to-morrow. Come out to my place to-night, where the reporterscan't find you. Maybe you won't care to sleep with me--I've butone bed, you see--but you can go to a quiet hotel downtown. I'mpacking these things to store them for your father. Then I'm goingback to New York to live on my income. It's honest money, too."

  "Who sent me the draft for five hundred?"

  "I did, Graydon. Forgive me. It was just a loan, you know. I thoughtyou'd need something--"

  "I haven't touched it, Elias. Here it is. Thank you. No, I won'taccept it."

  "I'm sorry," muttered the old man, taking the slip of paper.

  Graydon resumed his seat near the window and watched Droom withleaden eyes as he turned suddenly to resume charge of the packing."We'll soon be through," he said shortly.

  For an hour the work went on, and then Droom dismissed the workerswith their pay. The storage van men were there to carry the boxesaway. Graydon sat still and saw the offices divested. Secondhanddealers hurried off with the furniture, the pictures and the rugs;an expressman came in for the things that belonged to Elias Droom.

  "There," said the clerk, tossing the umbrella into a corner. "It'sfinished. There's nothing left to do but remove ourselves."

  "Elias, did Mr. Clegg know about father's conviction when he offeredme the place in New York?" asked Graydon as they started away.

  "Yes, that's the beauty of it. He admires you. You'll take theplace?"

  "Not until I've talked it all over with him--to-morrow."

  Droom called a cab and the two drove over to the Wells Streetrooms, Graydon relinquishing himself completely to the will of theold man. During the supper, which Droom prepared with elaboratecare, and far into the night, the young man sat and listenedwithout interest to the garrulous talk of his host, who explainedthe mechanism and purpose of two models.

  One was in the nature of a guillotine by which a person could chophis own head off neatly without chance of failure, and the otherhad to do with the improvement of science in respect to shoelaces.

  CHAPTER XXX

  THE DRINK OF GALL