Sons and Fathers

by Harry Stillwell Edwards

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  HOW THE CHALLENGE WAS WRITTEN.

  The search for Royson was unavailing. His determined pursuer tried hisoffice door; it was locked. He walked every business street, enteredevery restaurant and billiard saloon, every hotel lobby. The politicianwas not to be found. He himself attracted wide-spread attention whereverhe went. Had he met Royson he would have killed him without a word, butas he walked he did a great deal of thinking. He had no friend in thecity. The nature of this attack was such that few people would care tosecond him. The younger Montjoy was away and he was unwilling to setfoot in the colonel's house again. Through him, Edward Morgan, howeverinnocently it may be, had come the fatal blow.

  He ran over the list of acquaintances he had formed among the youngermen. They were not such as pleased him in this issue, for a strong,clear head, a man of good judgment and good balance, a determined man,was needed.

  Then there came to his memory the face of one whom he had met at supperhis first night in town--the quiet, dignified Barksdale. He sought thisman's office. Barksdale was the organizer of a great railroad in processof construction. His reception of Edward was no more nor less than wouldhave been accorded under ordinary circumstances. Had he come on the daybefore he would have been greeted as then.

  "How do you do, Mr. Morgan? Be seated, sir." This with a wave of hishand. Then, "What can I do for you?" His manner affected Edward in thebest way; he began to feel the business atmosphere.

  "I have called, Mr. Barksdale, upon a personal matter and to ask yourassistance. I suppose you have read to-day's extra?"

  "I have."

  "My first inclination, after fully weighing the intent and effect ofthat famous publication," said Edward, "was to seek and kill the author.For this purpose I have searched the town. Royson is not to be found. Iam so nearly a stranger here that I am forced to come to myacquaintances for assistance, and now I ask that you will advise me asto my next proceeding."

  "Demand a retraction and apology at once!"

  "And if it is refused?"

  "Challenge him!"

  "If he refuses to fight?"

  "Punish him. That is all you can do."

  "Will you make the demand for me--will you act for me?"

  Barksdale reflected a moment and then said: "Do not misunderstand myhesitation; it is not based upon the publication, nor upon unwillingnessto serve you. I am considering the complications which may involveothers; I must, in fact, consult others before I can reply. In themeantime will you be guided by me?"

  "I will."

  "You are armed and contemplating a very unwise act. Leave your weaponhere and take a hack home and remain there until I call. It is now 3:30o'clock. I will be there at 8. If I do not act for you I will suggest afriend, for this matter should not lie over-night. But under nocircumstances can I go upon the field; my position here involvesinterests covering many hundreds of thousands of invested funds, which Ihave induced. Dueling is clearly out of vogue in this country andclearly illegal. For the president of a railroad to go publicly into aduel and deliberately break the law would lessen public confidence inthe north in both him and his business character and affect the futureof his enterprise, the value of its stocks and bonds. You admit thereasonableness of this, do you not?"

  "I do. There is my weapon! I will expect you at 8. Good evening, Mr.Barksdale."

  The hours wore slowly away at home. Edward studied his features in thecheval glass; he could not find in them the slightest resemblance to thewoman in the picture. He had not erred in that. The absence of anyportrait of John Morgan prevented his making a comparison there. He knewfrom descriptions given by Eldridge that he was not very like him inform or in any way that he could imagine, but family likeness is anelusive fact. Two people will resemble each other, although they maydiffer in features taken in detail.

  He went to Gerald's room, moved by a sudden impulse. Gerald wasdemonstrating one of his theories concerning mind pictures and found inthe professor a smiling and tolerant listener.

  He was saying: "Now, let us suppose that from youth up a child haslooked into its mother's face, felt her touch, heard her voice; that hissenses carried to that forming brain their sensations, each nervetouching the brain, and with minute force setting up day by day, monthby month, and year by year a model. Yes, go back further and rememberthat this was going on before the child was a distinct individual; wehave the creative force in both stages! Tell me, is it impossible thenthat this little brain shall grow into the likeness it carries as itsmost serious impression, and that forced to the effort would on canvasor in its posterity produce the picture it has made----"

  "How can you distinguish the mind picture from the memory picture? Whatis the difference?"

  "Not easily, but if I can produce a face which comes to me in my dreams,which haunts my waking hours, which is with me always, the face of one Ihave never seen, it must come to me as a mind picture; and if thatpicture is the feminine of my own, have I not reason to believe that itstands for the creative power from which I sprang? Such a picture asthis."

  He drew a little curtain aside and on the wall shone the fair face of awoman; the face from the church sketch, but robbed of its terror, thecounterpart of the little painting upstairs. The professor looked grave,but Edward gazed on it in awe.

  "Now a simple brain picture," he said, almost in a whisper; "draw me theface of John Morgan."

  The artist made not more than twenty strokes of the crayon upon theblackboard.

  "Such is John Morgan, as I last saw him," said Gerald; "a merephotograph; a brain picture!"

  Edward gazed from one to the other; from the picture to the artistastounded. The professor had put on his glasses; it was he who broke thesilence.

  "That is Herr Abingdon," he said. Gerald smiled and said:

  "That is John Morgan."

  Without a word Edward left the room. Under an assumed name, deterredfrom open recognition by the sad facts of the son's birth, his fatherhad watched over and cherished him. No wonder the letter had come back.Abingdon was dead!

  The front door was open. He plunged directly into the arms of Barksdaleas he sought the open air. Barksdale was one of those men who seem to bewithout sentiment, because they have been trained by circumstances tolook at facts from a business standpoint only. Yet the basis of hiswhole life was sentiment.

  In the difficulty that had arisen his quick mind grasped at once thesituation. He knew Royson and was sure that he shielded himself behindsome collateral fact, not behind the main truth. In the first place hewas hardly in position to know anything of Morgan's history more thanthe general public would have known. In the second, he would not havedared to use it under any circumstances if those circumstances did notprotect him. What were these? First there was Morgan's isolation; onlyone family could be said to be intimate with him, and they could not, onaccount of the younger Montjoy, act for Edward. The single controllingidea that thrust itself into Barksdale's mind was the proposition thatRoyson did not intend to fight.

  Then the position of the Montjoy family flashed upon him. The blow hadbeen delivered to crush the colonel politically and upon a man who washis unselfish ally. Owing to the nature of the attack Col. Montjoy couldask no favors of Royson, and owing to the relationship, he could notproceed against him in Morgan's interest. He could neither act for noradvise, and in the absence of Col. Montjoy, who else could be found?

  Before replying to Edward, a plan of action occurred to him. When hesent that excited individual home he went direct to Royson's office. Hefound the door open and that gentleman serenely engaged in writing. Evenat this point he was not deceived; he knew that his approach had beenseen, as had Edward's, and preparations made accordingly.

  Royson had been city attorney and in reality the tool of a ring. Hisambition was boundless. Through friends he had broached a subject verydear to him; he desired to become counsel for the large corporationsthat Barksdale represented, and there was a surprised satisfaction inhis tones as he welcomed t
he railroad president and gave him a seat.

  Barksdale opened the conversation on this line and asked for a writtenopinion upon a claim of liability in a recent accident. He went furtherand stated that perhaps later Royson might be relied upon frequently insuch cases. The town was talking of nothing else at that time but theRoyson card. It was natural that Barksdale should refer to it.

  "A very stiff communication, that of yours, about Mr. Morgan," he said,carelessly; "it will probably be fortunate for you if your informant isnot mistaken."

  "There is no mistake," said Royson, leaning back in his chair, glad thatthe subject had been brought up. "It does seem a rough card to write,but I have reason to think there was no better way out of a very uglycomplication."

  "The name of your informant will be demanded, of course."

  "Yes, but I shall not give it!"

  "Then will come a challenge."

  "Hardly!" Royson arose and closed the door. "If you have a few momentsand do not mind hearing this, I will tell you in confidence the wholebusiness. Who would be sought to make a demand upon me for the name ofmy informant?"

  "One of the Montjoys naturally, but your relationship barring them theywould perhaps find Mr. Morgan a second."

  "But suppose that I prove conclusively that the information came from amember of the Montjoy family? What could they do? Under thecircumstances which have arisen their hands are tied. As a matter offact I am the only one that can protect them. If the matter came to thatpoint, as a last resort I could refuse to fight, for the reason given inthe letter."

  Barksdale was silent. The whole devilish plot flashed upon him. He knewin advance the person described as a member of the Montjoy family, andhe knew the base motives of the man who at that moment was dishonoringhim with his confidence. His blood boiled within him. Cool and calm ashe was by nature, his face showed emotion as he arose and said:

  "I think I understand."

  Royson stood by the door, his hand upon the knob, after his visitor hadgone.

  "It was a mistake; a great mistake," he said to himself in a whisper. "Ihave simply acted the fool!"

  Barksdale went straight to a friend upon whose judgment he relied andlaid the matter before him. Together they selected three of the mosthonorable and prominent men in the city, friends of the Montjoys, andsubmitted it to them.

  The main interest was now centered in saving the Montjoy family. Edwardhad become secondary. An agreement was reached upon Barksdale'ssuggestion and all was now complete unless the aggrieved party shouldlose his case in the correspondence about to ensue.

  Barksdale disguised his surprise when he assisted Edward at the door torecover equilibrium.

  "I am here sir, as I promised," he said, "but the complications extendfurther than I knew. I now state that I cannot act for you in anycapacity and ask that I be relieved of my promise." Edward bowedstiffly.

  "You are released."

  "There is but one man in this city who can serve you and bring about ameeting. Gerald Morgan must bear your note!" Edward repeated the name.He could not grasp the idea. "Gerald Morgan," said Barksdale again. "Hewill not need to go on the field. Good-night. And if that fails you hereis your pistol; you are no longer under my guidance. But one wordmore--my telephone is 280; if during the night or at any time I canadvise you, purely upon formal grounds, summon me. In the meantime seeto it that your note does not demand the name of Royson's informant. Donot neglect that. The use he has made of his information must be madethe basis of the quarrel; if you neglect this your case is lost.Good-night."

  The thought flashed into Edward's mind then that the world was againsthim. This man was fearful of becoming responsible himself. He had namedGerald. It was a bruised and slender reed, but he would lean upon it,even if he crushed it in the use. He returned to the wing-room.

  "Professor," he said, "you know that under no possible circumstanceswould I do you a discourtesy, so when I tell you, as now, that forto-night and possibly a day, we are obliged to leave you alone, you willunderstand that some vital matter lies at the bottom of it."

  "My young friend," exclaimed that gentleman, "go as long as you please.I have a little world of my own, you know," he smiled cheerfully, "inwhich I am always amused. Gerald has enlarged it. Go and come when youcan; here are books--what more does one need?" Edward bowed slightly.

  "Gerald, follow me." Gerald, without a word, laid aside his crayon andobeyed. He stood in the library a moment later looking with tremulousexcitement upon the man who had summoned him so abruptly. By reflectionhe was beginning to share the mental disturbance. His frail figurequivered and he could not keep erect.

  "Read that!" said Edward, handing him the paper. He took the sheet andread. When he finished he was no longer trembling, but to theastonishment of Edward, very calm. A look of weariness rested upon hisface.

  "Have you killed him?" he asked, laying aside the paper, his mind atonce connecting the incident of the pistol with this one.

  "No, he is in hiding."

  "Have you challenged him?"

  "No! My God, can you not understand? I am without friends! The wholecity believes the story." A strange expression came upon the face ofGerald.

  "We must challenge him at once," he said. "I am, of course, the propersecond. I must ask you in the first place to calm yourself. The recordsmust be perfect." He seated himself at a desk and prepared to write.Edward was walking the room. He came and stood by his side.

  "Do not demand the name of his informant," he said; "make thepublication and circulation of the letter the cause of our grievance."

  "Of course," was the reply. The letter was written rapidly. "Sign it ifyou please," said Gerald. Edward read the letter and noticed that it waswritten smoothly and without a break. He signed it. Gerald had alreadyrung for the buggy and disappeared. "Wait here," he had said, "until Ireturn. In the meantime do not converse with anyone upon this subject."The thought that flashed upon the mind of the man left in thedrawing-room was that the race courage had become dominant, and for thetime being was superior to ill-health, mental trouble and environment.It was in itself a confirmation of the cruel letter. The manhood ofAlbert Evan had become a factor in the drama.