The King's Men: A Tale of To-morrow

by Nathan Schachner

  CHAPTER XVI.

  MRS. CAREY'S HUSBAND.

  Oswald Carey's father had just died and left him a great fortune madeupon the Stock Exchange when the son met his wife for the first time atthe country-house of his father's old partner and his thenexecutor--Benjamin Bugbee. "Young Croesus," as he was then familiarlycalled, fell head over heels in love with the beautiful daughter of thepenniless and disestablished clergyman, and during the short space ofhis courtship and honeymoon he forgot the one thing which had previouslyabsorbed his life--the gaming-table. If his wife had been a good woman,or if she had loved him, he might have stayed his hand from baccarat.But Eleanor had married him simply because he was rich and good-naturedand she was ambitious and poor; and after their marriage she plungedinto the gayest of fashionable society.

  At first Carey yawned in the anterooms of balls, waiting for hisbeautiful wife, but after a while he tired of this; and, letting her gointo the world alone, he betook himself to the Turf and Jockey Club,where the play ran very high, for there adventurers and gamesters of allnations congregated--the rich Russian met his great rival wheat-growerof America, and the price of great farms changed hands at poker or atbaccarat. The hawks who infested the club, eager for the quarry,speedily settled upon such a plump pigeon as Carey, and while his wifewore his diamonds at gay balls, night after night, he sat over the greencloth, throwing away his youth and his fortune to the harpies. It beganto be whispered in a few years that "Young Croesus," the beauty'shusband, was cleaned out. The hawks found his I. O. U.'s wereunredeemed, and his gorgeous establishment in Mayfair was closed. Bysome influence Carey succeeded in getting an appointment as a clerk inthe Stamp and Sealing Wax Office, while his wife went on in her careeras a "beauty."

  At the office Carey matched for half-crowns with his fellow-clerks, readthe sporting news, and busied himself in computations, in connectionwith his "system" by which he should infallibly win at cards. Little bylittle his system absorbed the wrecks left to him of his fortune; and hehad nothing to live upon but his salary and the money which his wifeallowed him.

  At last his habits lost him his place under government.

  He had borrowed money from every man in the office, and was in the habitof drinking brandy and soda during hours, and of smoking upon the bigleather sofa until the janitor, at dark, shook him to his senses. Afterthis he spent all his time at the Turf and Jockey, for he still kept hisname at this unsavory institution; he led much the same life there as atthe government office, save that the club servants let him sleep on thesofa until morning if he chose, and he earned no pay while he slumbered.As a counterbalance, the brandy and soda was cheaper and better thanthat which had been sent to him from the public house opposite to theStamp and Sealing Wax, and he had all his time to devote to his system,while in the office he had occasionally a little writing to do.

  Mrs. Carey had been living in her husband's lodging for three weeksafter her interview with the King, in the night before Aldershot. Allthe world was wild over the attempted revolution, the trial of the stateprisoners and the escape of the King to France--all the world but OswaldCarey, who gave no thought to what passed on around him; he made deepcalculations upon his "system" at the club between his draughts of "B.and S.," and played with other wrecked gamesters, until he lost hisready money, for his "system" worked to a charm conversely--hisopponents infallibly won. Early in the morning he would stumble home tohis lodgings cursing his luck.

  On the morning of his wife's departure to join the King in France, shehad informed him, as he sat at the breakfast-table, holding his achinghead in one hand, that she was going to Paris to buy some new gowns, andthat she would not be back for some time, but that during her absenceher bankers would pay him $100 every week. He begged for more money, buthis request was refused, and his wife coldly shook hands with him, andretired to her room to superintend her maid's packing. Oswald believedher story, and, finding that he could eat no breakfast, put on his topcoat and crawled to the Turf and Jockey for a "pick-me-up." Fortified bythis, he made up his mind that, since his "system" had failed because hehad had always too small a capital to work with, he would allow hisallowance to roll up at the bank for three weeks before he began playagain.

  Meanwhile he resolved to keep sober, and he spent his time trying toperfect his "system" and watching the other players at the club. Hisburning ambition was to win back his fortune from the sharpers who hadfleeced him. He cursed himself all the while for his folly in playingbefore he had learned the game. He knew the game now well enough, heflattered himself; all day long he pondered on the combinations, and atnight myriads of cards floated through his head. He dreamed that he heldthe bank, and that his old adversaries sat with pale faces opposite tohim aghast at their losses.

  One evening in April he appeared at the club and changed his accumulateddollars into chips. Fortune favored him that evening; his perfected"system" worked the right way. He walked home early the next morning,exhilarated and happy, with his pockets stuffed with bank-notes. Hesmoothed out and counted the crumpled bills when he arrived at hislodgings, and found that his pile had grown to $10,000, and for somedays his dreams of success were fulfilled, and he was "cock of the walk"at the Turf and Jockey. He ordered champagne recklessly at dinner forthe other men, though he drank little himself.

  He even wrote a little note to his wife in Paris, inclosing athousand-dollar bank-note to buy some bonnets and a gown.

  "Nell will be surprised," he had said to himself, as he slipped thenotes into the envelope. "By gad, when I get all my money back, I shallcut all this, and we will go to America on a ranch. Poor Nell! I haven'ttreated her right. I fear I have made a dreadful mess of it all."

  He went to the gaming-table that evening with a light heart, and withother thoughts than his "system" in his mind--thoughts which had notbeen his for years.

  It happened that a young Oxford undergraduate was at the table, and theyoung fellow had drank freely and had consumed a great deal of the"Golden Boy," as he affectionately termed the club champagne. As aconsequence of these libations and of his utter ignorance of the game,he played recklessly, and won from the beginning, although he wassurrounded by the most astute players in England. Poor Carey's cherished"system" was powerless against the boy's absurd play and tremendous runof luck, and his pile of chips melted away like snow in April, until hehad not a dollar left. He rushed down to the office of the club to getthe letter to his wife which he had put in the box, but the mail hadbeen sent away. He succeeded in borrowing $50 upon his watch from theclub steward, and returned to the table. But it was of no use; this soonfollowed the rest of his money. There were but two rules at the Turf andJockey--"no I. O. U.'s were allowed at the card-table, and no one waspermitted, under pain of expulsion from the club, to borrow or lendmoney." Carey had no alternative but to sit by the gaming-table andwatch the play. He slept at the club on the sofa that night, and lookedon at the play all the next day, drinking brandy all the while. TheOxford boy had left the club late in the night before, carrying most ofthe ready money of the establishment with him, and the broken gamblersplayed for but small stakes. The excitement of his losses and theconstant draughts of brandy had made Carey wild and nervous. He paced toand fro in the billiard-room, racking his fuddled brain to find out away for getting at ready money. His friends had long since ceasedlending to him; his wife had repeatedly told him that she would notsupply him with money to gamble with. Finally he remembered that shehad told him that she had called upon the President to induce that wiseruler to restore him to his place in the Stamp and Sealing Wax. If hecould only get that task, he would in a few weeks, with his hundreddollars' allowance a week and his salary, have a considerable sum togive his system another chance, taking care to avoid tipsy greenhornsthis time. He felt too rickety to face the President until he had drankseveral more glasses of brandy. This done, he hailed a cab and drovestraight to Buckingham Palace. Immediately he sent in his name by thepoliceman; he was shown into the President's private room, where theruler
of England was seated at a large desk looking over a heap ofofficial papers. The President looked sharply and inquiringly at him.

  "Mr. Oswald Carey?" he inquired, looking at the card which he heldbetween his thumb and forefinger.

  "Yes, sir," stammered Carey, who felt his hand shaking violently as heleaned against the President's desk. "I have come to shee about myreshtoration to Samp and Stealing-Wax Office--I beg pardon, I mean Stealand Sampling-Wax Office." He twirled the waxed end of his mustache witha trembling hand, and looked uneasily at the President, feeling that hehad taken more brandy than was necessary to settle his nerves.

  The President said nothing, but smiled a little scornfully. Nothing gaveBagshaw such keen delight as to see a gentleman, even such a wreck of agentleman as Carey, in a base position.

  "Mrs. Carey spoke to you about it some t-time ago, I be-believe,"stammered Carey, who was sorry that he had come there by this time. "Iwas a useful public servant."

  The President smiled grimly.

  "We are under great obligations to Mrs. Oswald Carey," he said, "and Ishall see that you are restored to your position, only you must not beso obstinate about your assessments in the future, as there is noLegitimate party now, thanks to your beautiful wife."

  "Thanks to my beautiful wife! What do you mean, sir?" blurted Carey,staggering over toward the President and resting upon his two hands onthe desk. "Thanks to my beautiful wife!"

  "Come, come, sir," said the President, "be seated. You, of course, knowwhat I mean. Your wife never spoke to me about restoring you to youroffice. She said that she would some time ask a favor of me in returnfor the information which she gave me. You have come to claim thatreturn. I will keep my promise to her. However, if you do not leavebrandy alone, the office will not do you much good."

  "Damn your office," cried Carey, who had been a gentleman and a man ofhonor before the passion for gambling had seized upon him. Once he haddreamed of a home, of children who should be proud to own him as theirfather, and he still loved his wife. "What information did Mrs. Careygive you?"

  Carey's hands nervously clutched a heavy bronze inkstand, which lay onthe table in front of the President.

  "The information which led to the suppression of the Royalist outbreakat Aldershot. Mrs. Carey is a government spy and informer," answeredBagshaw brutally. Then he tried to rise from his chair, for he saw athreatening look in Carey's eye.

  He was too late, for Carey, crying, "You lie, you hound!" lifted up theheavy inkstand which his hands had been mechanically clutching, andhurled it at the President's bald head.

  The missile stunned the President and cut a great gash in his head, andhe fell senseless forward on the desk, a stream of mingled ink and blooddripping from his forehead upon the papers.

  Carey looked at him disdainfully for a moment, and laughed derisively.

  The policeman at the door said nothing to him as he went out; there hadbeen no noise from the private room.

  Then he walked a little hurriedly to his cab and told the cabman todrive to the club.

  On the way there he trembled violently with rage as he thought of whatthe President had said to him of his wife, but chuckled when he thoughtof the revenge which he had taken.

  "He will wake up with a cursed headache," Carey said to himself, "and ifhe wishes to arrest me, he can do it. Even the President cannot slandera man's wife."

  He was quite sober now, and had forgotten all about his "system." Hethought of his wife, and wondered if she was pleased at the littlepresent which he had sent to her in Paris; he thought of the days of hisearly love for her, when she had seemed to him a goddess; and thisscoundrel had called her, his Eleanor, a spy, and asserted that he hadcome to claim the reward of her treachery. At the club he noticed thatall the men whispered to each other and smiled. When he entered thesmoking-room a group were eagerly reading the latest news, which rolledin over the "ticker" in the corner. He supposed that the other fellowswere making merry over his losses, and, with a hard laugh, he settledinto an easy-chair and lighted a cigar. It pleased him to think of thePresident's bald head smeared with blood and ink. He felt himself moreof a man than he had for years. Just then a waiter brought him a letterupon a tray. It was his letter to his wife in Paris, into which he hadslipped the bank-notes. Her bankers had returned it to him, and it wasmarked "Not found." He thrust it into his pocket, and wondered whereEleanor might be, and why he had not heard from her all this time. Heremembered now that she had been gone a long time; he had been soabsorbed in his play that he had not thought much about it before.Looking up, he saw that the other men were all clustered around the"ticker," and that one of them was reading a despatch, and the otherslistened attentively, every now and then glancing over to him. He couldnot imagine at first what they were after; then it occurred to him thatthey were sending the news of his assault upon the President.

  "What is it all about, you fellows?" he asked, walking over to them; "itmust be damned amusing!" The men scattered as he approached, and leftthe "ticker" for his use, looking uneasily at him as he lifted the whitetape in his hand and read the despatch which had so much interestedthem.

  It was from Boston, U. S. A., telling of the arrival of the steamer withKing George the Fifth and Mrs. Oswald Carey on board. The despatchdarkly hinted that she had been the cause of the King's failure to meethis adherents at Aldershot.

  The room grew dark to Carey, and seemed to whir around him; the othermen saw his face grow deadly white and his lips close firmly. He didnot seem to notice them, but he pulled his hat over his eyes andstaggered from the room.

  "God!" said one of the men. "I believe that Carey was the only man inEngland who didn't know what a woman his wife was. What do you supposehe will do?"

  "Heaven knows," said a second. "But, I say, boys, let's have a drink."

  Carey found in the office that there was time to catch the next mailsteamer from Liverpool for Boston if he rushed to the next train.

  "The cursed scoundrel spoke the truth," he said to himself, "but I hopethat I have crushed his head, just the same; and now I shall be inAmerica in five days--and then--" He looked out at the landscapewhirling by the windows of the railway carriage and set his teeth.