Counsel for the Defense

by Leroy Scott

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE EDITOR OF THE _EXPRESS_

  Katherine stumbled down into the dusty, quivering heat of the Square.She was still awed and dumfounded by her discovery; she could not asyet realize its full significance and whither it would lead; but hermind was a ferment of thoughts that were unfinished and questions thatdid not await reply.

  How had a man once so splendid come to sell his soul for money orambition? What would Westville think and do, Westville who worshippedhim, if it but knew the truth? How was she to give battle to anantagonist, so able in himself, so powerfully supported by the public?What a strange caprice of fate it was that had given her as the manshe must fight, defeat, or be defeated by, her former idol, her formerlover!

  Shaken with emotion, her mind shot through with these fragmentarythoughts, she turned into a side street. But she had walked beneathits withered maples no more than a block or two, when her largestimmediate problem, her father's trial on the morrow, thrust itselfinto her consciousness, and the pressing need of further action droveall this spasmodic speculation from her mind. She began to think uponwhat she should next do. Almost instantly her mind darted to the manwhom she had definitely connected with the plot against her father,Arnold Bruce, and she turned back toward the Square, afire with a newidea.

  She had made great advance through suddenly, though unintentionally,confronting Blake with knowledge of his guilt. Might she not make somefurther advance, gain some new clue, by confronting Bruce in similarmanner?

  Ten minutes after she had left the office of Harrison Blake, Katherineentered the _Express_ Building. From the first floor sounded a deepand continuous thunder; that afternoon's issue was coming from thepress. She lifted her skirts and gingerly mounted the stairway, overwhich the _Express's_ "devil" was occasionally seen to makeincantations with the stub of an undisturbing broom.

  At the head of the stairway a door stood open. This she entered, andfound herself in the general editorial room, ankle-deep with dirt andpaper. The air of the place told that the day's work was done. In onecorner a telegraph sounder was chattering its tardy world-gossip tounheeding ears. In the centre at a long table, typewriters beforethem, three shirt-sleeved young men sprawled at ease reading the_Express_, which the "devil" had just brought them from the netherregions, moist with the black spittle of the beast that there roaredand rumbled.

  At sight of her tall, fresh figure, a red spot in her either cheek,defiance in her brown eyes, Billy Harper, quicker than the rest,sprang up and crossed the room.

  "Miss West, I believe," he said. "Can I do anything for you?"

  "I wish to speak with Mr. Bruce," was her cold reply.

  "This way," and Billy led her across the wilderness of proofs,discarded copy and old newspapers, to a door beside the stairway thatled down into the press-room. "Just go right in," he said.

  She entered. Bruce, his shirt-sleeves rolled up and his baredfore-arms grimy, sat glancing through the _Express_, his feet crossedon his littered desk, a black pipe hanging from one corner of hismouth. He did not look round but turned another page.

  "Well, what's the matter?" he grunted between his teeth.

  "I should like a few words with you," said Katherine.

  "Eh!" His head twisted about. "Miss West!"

  His feet suddenly dropped to the floor, and he stood up and laid thepipe upon his desk. For the moment he was uncertain how to receiveher, but the bright, hard look in her eyes fixed his attitude.

  "Certainly," he said in a brusque, businesslike tone. He placed theatlas-bottomed chair near his own. "Be seated."

  She sat down, and he took his own chair.

  "I am at your service," he said.

  Her cheeks slowly gathered a higher colour, her eyes gleamed with apre-triumphant fire, and she looked straight into his square, rathermassive face. Over Blake she had felt an infinity of regret and pain.For this man she felt only boundless hatred, and she thrilled with avengeful, exultant joy that she was about to unmask him--that latershe might crush him utterly.

  "I am at your service," he repeated.

  She slowly wet her lips and gathered herself to strike, alert to watchthe effects of her blow.

  "I have called, Mr. Bruce," she said with slow distinctness, "to letyou know that I know that a conspiracy is under way to steal thewater-works! And to let you know that I know that you are near itscentre!"

  He started.

  "What?" he cried.

  Her devouring gaze did not lose a change of feature, not so much asthe shifting in the pupil of his eye.

  "Oh, I know your plot!" she went on rapidly. "It's every detail! Thefirst step was to ruin the water-works, so the city would sell andsell cheap. The first step toward ruining the system was to get myfather out of the way. And so this charge against my father wastrumped up to ruin him. The leader of the whole plot is Mr. Blake; hisright hand man yourself. Oh, I know every detail of your infamousscheme!"

  He stared at her. His lips had slowly parted.

  "What--you say that Mr. Blake----"

  "Oh, you are trying to play your part of innocence well, but youcannot deceive me!" she cried with fierce contempt. "Yes, Mr. Blake isthe head of it. I just came from his office. There's not a doubt inthe world of his guilt. He has admitted it. Oh----"

  "Admitted it?"

  "Yes, admitted it! Oh, it was a fine and easy way to make afortune--to dupe the city into selling at a fraction of its value abusiness that run privately will pay an immense and ever-growingprofit."

  He had stood up and was scratching his bristling hair.

  "My God! My God!" he whispered.

  She rose.

  "And you!" she cried, glaring at him, her voice mounting to a climaxof scorn, "You! Don't walk the room"--he had begun to do so--"but lookme in the face. To think how you have attacked my father, malignedhim, covered him with dishonour! And for what? To help you carrythrough a dirty trick to rob the city! Oh, I wish I had the words totell you----"

  But he had begun again to pace the little room, scratching his head,his eyes gleaming behind the heavy glasses.

  "Listen to me!" she commanded.

  "Oh, give me all the hell you want to!" he cried out. "Only don't askme to listen to you!"

  He paused abruptly before her, and, eyes half-closed, staredpiercingly into her face. As she returned his stare, it began to dawnupon her that he did not seem much taken aback. At least his guiltbore no near likeness to that of Mr. Blake.

  Suddenly he made a lunge for the door, jerked it open, and his voicedescended the stairway, out-thundering the press.

  "Jake! Oh, Jake!"

  A lesser roar ascended:

  "Yes!"

  "Stop the press! Rip open the forms! Get the men at the linotypes! Andbe alive down there, every damned soul of you! And you, Billy Harper,I'll want you here in two minutes!"

  He slammed the door, and turned on Katherine. She had looked uponexcitement before, but never such excitement as was flaming in hisface.

  "Now give me all the details!" he cried.

  She it was that was taken aback.

  "I--I don't understand," she said.

  "No time to explain now. Looks like I've been all wrong about yourfather--perhaps a little wrong about you--and perhaps you've been alittle wrong about me. Let it go at that. Now for the details. Quick!"

  "But--but what are you going to do?"

  "Going to get out an extra! It's the hottest story that ever came downthe pike! It'll make the _Express_, and"--he seized her hand in hisgrimy ones, his eyes blazed, and an exultant laugh leaped from hisdeep chest--"and we'll simply rip this old town wide open!"

  Katherine stared at him in bewilderment.

  "Oh, won't this wake the old town up!" he murmured to himself.

  He dropped into his chair, jerked some loose copy paper toward him,and seized a pencil.

  "Now quick! The details!"

  "You mean--you are going to print this?" she stammered.

  "Didn't I say so!" he answered s
harply.

  "Then you really had nothing to do with Mr. Blake's----"

  "Oh, hell! I beg pardon. But this is no time for explanations. Come,come"--he rapped his desk with his knuckles--"don't you know whatgetting out an extra is? Every second is worth half your lifetime. Outwith the story!"

  Katherine sank rather weakly into her chair, beginning to see newthings in this face she had so lately loathed.

  "The fact of the matter is," she confessed, "I guess I stated myinformation a little more definitely than it really is."

  "You mean you haven't the facts?"

  "I'm afraid not. Not yet."

  "Nothing definite I could hinge a story on?"

  She shook her head. "I didn't come prepared for--for things to takethis turn. It would spoil everything to have this made public before Ihad my case worked up."

  "Then there's no extra!"

  He flung down his pencil and sprang up. "Nothing doing, Billy," hecalled to Harper, who that instant opened the door; "go on back withyou." He began to walk up and down the little office, scowling, handsclenched in his trousers' pockets. After a moment he stopped short,and looked at Katherine half savagely.

  "I suppose you don't know what it means to a newspaper man to have abig story laid in his hands and then suddenly jerked out?"

  "I suppose it is something of a disappointment."

  "Disappointment!" The word came out half groan, half sneer. "Rot! Ifyou were waiting in church and the bridegroom didn't show up, if youwere----oh, I can't make you understand the feeling!"

  He dropped back into his chair and scratched viciously at the copypaper with his heavy black pencil. She watched him in a sort offascination, till he abruptly looked up. Suspicion glinted behind theheavy glasses.

  "Are you sure, Miss West," he asked slowly "that this whole affairisn't just a little game?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "That your whole story is nothing but a hoax? Nothing but a trick toget out of a tight hole by calling another man a thief?"

  Her eyes flashed.

  "You mean that I am telling a lie?"

  "Oh, you lawyers doubtless have a better-tasting word for it. Youwould call it, say, a 'professional expedient.'"

  She was still not sufficiently recovered from her astonishment to beangry. Besides, she felt herself by an unexpected turn put in thewrong regarding Bruce.

  "What I have said to you is the absolute truth," she declared. "Hereis the situation--believe me or not, just as you please. I ask you,for the moment, to accept the proposition that my father is the victimof a plot to steal the water-works, and then see how everything fitsin with that theory. And bear in mind, as an item worth considering,my father's long and honourable career--never a dishonouring wordagainst him till this charge came." And she went on and outlined, morefully than on yesterday before her father, the reasoning that had ledher to her conclusion. "Now, does not that sound possible?" shedemanded.

  He had watched her with keen, half-closed eyes.

  "H'm. You reason well," he conceded.

  "That's a lawyer's business," she retorted. "So much for theory. Nowfor facts." And she continued and gave him her experience of half anhour before with Blake, the editor's boring gaze fixed on her all thewhile. "Now I ask you this question: Is it likely that even a poorwater system could fail so quickly and so completely as ours has done,unless some powerful person was secretly working to make it fail? Doyou not see it never could? We all would have seen it, but we've allbeen too busy, too blind, and thought too well of our town, to suspectsuch a thing."

  His eyes were still boring into her.

  "But how about Doctor Sherman?" he asked.

  "I believe that Doctor Sherman is an innocent tool of the conspiracy,just as my father is its innocent victim," she answered promptly.

  Bruce sat with the same fixed look, and made no reply.

  "I have stated my theory, and I have stated my facts," said Katherine."I have no court evidence, but I am going to have it. As I remarkedbefore, you can believe what I have said, or not believe it. It's allthe same to me." She stood up. "I wish you good afternoon."

  He quickly rose.

  "Hold on!" he said.

  She paused at the door. He strode to and fro across the little office,scowling with thought. Then he paused at the window and looked out.

  "Well?" she demanded.

  He wheeled about.

  "It sounds plausible."

  "Thank you," she said crisply. "I could hardly expect a man who hasbeen the champion of error, to admit that he has been wrong and acceptthe truth. Good afternoon."

  Again she reached for the door-knob.

  "Wait!" he cried. There was a ring of resentment in his voice, but hissquare face that had been grudgingly non-committal was now aglow withexcitement. "Of course you're right!" he exclaimed. "There's a damnedinfernal conspiracy! Now what can I do to help?"

  "Help?" she asked blankly.

  "Help work up the evidence? Help reveal the conspiracy?"

  She had not yet quite got her bearings concerning this new Bruce.

  "Help? Why should you help? Oh, I see," she said coldly; "it wouldmake a nice sensational story for your paper."

  He flushed at her cutting words, and his square jaw set.

  "I suppose I might follow your example of a minute ago and say that Idon't care what you think. But I don't mind telling you a few things,and giving you a chance to understand me if you want to. I was on aChicago paper, and had a big place that was growing bigger. I couldhave sold the _Express_ when my uncle left it to me, and stayed there;but I saw a chance, with a paper of my own, to try out some of my ownideas, so I came to Westville. My idea of a newspaper is that itsfunction is to serve the people--make them think--bring them newideas--to be ever watching their interests. Of course, I want to makemoney--I've got to, or go to smash; but I'd rather run a candy storethan run a sleepy, apologetic, afraid-of-a-mouse, mere money-makingsheet like the _Clarion_, that would never breathe a word against thedevil's fair name so long as he carried a half-inch ad. You called mea yellow journalist yesterday. Well, if to tell the truth in thehardest way I know how, to tell it so that it will hit people squarebetween the eyes and make 'em sit up and look around 'em--if that isyellow then I'm certainly a yellow journalist, and I thank GodAlmighty for inventing the breed!"

  As Katherine listened to his snappy, vibrant words, as she looked athis powerful, dominant figure, and into his determined face with itsflashing eyes, she felt a reluctant warmth creep through her being.

  "Perhaps--I may have been mistaken about you," she said.

  "Perhaps you may!" he returned grimly. "Perhaps as much as I was aboutyour father. And, speaking of your father, I don't mind addingsomething more. Ever since I took charge of the _Express_, I've beenadvocating municipal ownership of every public utility. Thewater-works, which were apparently so satisfactory, were a good start;I used them constantly as a text for working up municipal ownershipsentiment. The franchises of the Westville Traction Company expirenext year, and I had been making a campaign against renewing thefranchises and in favour of the city taking over the system andrunning it. Opinion ran high in favour of the scheme. But DoctorWest's seeming dishonesty completely killed the municipal ownershipidea. That was my pet, and if I was bitter toward your father--well, Icouldn't help it. And now," he added rather brusquely, "I've explainedmyself to you. To repeat your words, you can believe me or not, justas you like."

  There was no resisting the impression of the man's sincerity.

  "I suppose," said Katherine, "that I should apologize for--for thethings I've called you. My only excuse is that your mistake about myfather helped cause my mistake about you."

  "And I," returned he, "am not only willing to take back, publicly, inmy paper, what I have said against your father, but am willing toprint your statement about----"

  "You must not print a word till I get my evidence," she put inquickly. "Printing it prematurely might ruin my case."

  "Very well.
And as for what I have said about you, I take backeverything--except----" He paused; she saw disapprobation in his eyes."Except the plain truth I told you that being a lawyer is no work fora woman."

  "You are very dogmatic!" said she hotly.

  "I am very right," he returned. "Excuse my saying it, but you appearto have too many good qualities as a woman to spoil it all by goingout of your sphere and trying----"

  "Why--why----" She stood gasping. "Do you know what your uncle told meabout you?"

  "Old Hosie?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Hosie's an old fool!"

  "He said that the trouble with you was that you had not been thrashedenough as a boy. And he was right, too!"

  She turned quickly to the door, but he stepped before her.

  "Don't get mad because of a little truth. Remember, I want to helpyou."

  "I think," said she, "that we're better suited to fight each otherthan to help each other. I'm not so sure I want your help."

  "I'm not so sure you can avoid taking it," he retorted. "This isn'tyour father's case alone. It's the city's case, too, and I've got aright to mix in. Now do you want me?"

  She looked at him a moment.

  "I'll think it over. For the present, good afternoon."

  He hesitated, then held out his hand. She hesitated, then took it.After which, he opened the door for her and bowed her out.