Air Trust

by George Allan England

  CHAPTER XVI.

  TIGER WALDRON "COMES BACK."

  Old Isaac Flint loved but two things in all this world--power, and hisdaughter Catherine.

  I speak advisedly in putting "power" first. Much as he idolized thegirl, much as she reminded him of the long-dead wife of his youth, hecould have survived the loss of her. The loss of power would inevitablyhave crushed and broken him, stunned him, killed him. Yet, so far ashuman affection could still blossom in that withered heart, shrunk bycold scheming and the cruel piracies of many decades, he loved the girl.

  And so it was that when the message came in, that evening, over thetelephone, the news that Kate had been injured in an auto-accident whichhad entirely destroyed the machine and killed Herrick, he paled,trembled, and clutched the receiver, hardly able to hold it to his earwith his shaking hand.

  "Here! You!" he cried. "She--she's not badly hurt? She's living? She'ssafe? No lies, now! The truth!"

  "Your daughter is very much alive, and perfectly safe," a voiceanswered. "This is Doctor MacDougal, of Haverstraw, speaking. Thepatient is now having a superficial scalp wound dressed by my assistant.You can speak to her, in a few minutes, if you like."

  "Now! For God's sake, let me speak _now_!" entreated the Billionaire;but the doctor refused. Not all Flint's urging or bribing would turn himone hair's breadth.

  "No," he insisted. "In ten minutes she can talk to you. Not now. Buthave no fear, sir. She is perfectly safe and--barring her wound, whichwill probably heal almost without a scar--is as well as ever. A littlenervous and unstrung, of course, but that's to be expected."

  "What happened, and how?" demanded Flint, in terrible agitation.

  The doctor briefly gave him such facts as he knew, ending with thestatement that a passing automobilist had brought the girl to him, andoutlining the situation of the first-aid measures in the sugar-house. Atthe thought that Herrick, the drunken cause of it all, was dead andburned, Flint smiled with real satisfaction.

  "Damn him! It's too good for the scum!" he muttered. Then, aloud, heasked over the wire:

  "And who was the rescuer?"

  "I don't know," MacDougal answered. "Your daughter didn't tell me. Butfrom what I've learned, he must have been a man of rare strength andpresence of mind. It may well be that you owe your daughter's life tohis prompt work."

  "I'll find him, yet. He'll be suitably rewarded," thought theBillionaire. "No matter what my enemies have called me, I'm notincapable of gratitude!"

  Some few minutes later, having paced the library floor meanwhile, ingreat excitement, he called the doctor's house again by long-distance,and this time succeeded in having speech with his daughter. Her voice,though a little weak, vastly reassured him. Once more he asked for theoutline of the story. She told him all the essentials, and finished by:

  "Now, come and get me, won't you, father dear? I want to go home. Andthe quicker you come for me, the happier I'll be."

  "Bless your heart, Kate!" he exclaimed, deeply moved. "Nothing like theold man, after all, is there? Yes, I'll start at once. I've only beenwaiting here, to talk with you and _know_ you're safe. In five minutesI'll be on my way, with the racing-car. And if I don't break a fewrecords between here and Haverstraw, my name's not Isaac Flint!"

  After an affectionate good-bye, the old man hung up, rang for Slawson,his private valet, and ordered the swiftest car in his garage made readyat once, for a quick run.

  Two hours later, Doctor MacDougal had pocketed the largest fee he everhad received or ever would, again; and Kate was safe at home, in IdleHour.

  On the homeward journey, Flint learned every detail of the affair, fromstart to finish; and again grimly consigned the soul of the deadchauffeur to the nethermost pits of Hell. Yes, he realized, he must havethe body brought in and decently buried, after the coroner's verdict hadbeen rendered; but in his heart he knew that, save for the eye of publicopinion and the law, he would let those charred remnants lie and rotthere, by the river bank, under the twisted wreckage of the car--andrevel in the thought of that last, barbarous revenge.

  Arrived at home, Flint routed specialists out of their offices, and at alarge expense satisfied himself the girl had really taken no seriousharm. Next day, and the days following, all that money and sciencecould do to make the gash heal without a scar, was done. Waldron called,greatly unnerved and not at all himself; and Kate received him withamicable interest. She had not yet informed her father of the rupturebetween Waldron and herself, nor did he suspect it. As for "Tiger," herealized the time was inopportune for any statement of conditions, andheld his peace. But once she should be well, again, he had savagelyresolved this decision of hers should not stand.

  "Damn it, it can't! It mustn't!" he reflected, as on the third eveninghe returned to his Fifth Avenue house. "Now that I'm really in danger oflosing her, I'm just beginning to realize what an extraordinary womanshe is! As a wife, the mistress of my establishment, a hostess, a socialleader, what a figure she would make! And too, the alliance betweenFlint and myself simply must not be shattered. Kate is the only child.The old man's billion, or more, will surely come to her, practicallyevery penny of it. Flint is more than sixty-three this very minute, he'sa dope-fiend, and his heart's damned weak. He's liable to drop off, anymoment. If I get Kate, and he dies, what a fortune! What a prize! Addedto my interests, it will make me master of the world!

  "Then, too, this new Air Trust scheme positively demands that Flint andI should be bound together by something closer than mere financialassociation. I've simply got to be one of the family. I've got to be hisson-in-law. That's a positive necessity! God, what a fool I was atLongmeadow, to have taken those three drinks, and have been piqued ather beating me--to have let my tongue and temper slip--in short, to haveacted like an ass!"

  Ugly and grim, he puffed at his Londres. Vast schemes of finance and ofconquest wove through his busy, plotting brain. Visions of the girlarose, too, tempting him still more, though his chill heart waspowerless to feel the urge of any real, self-sacrificing or devotedlove. Sensual passion he knew, and ambition, and the lust of power;nothing else. But these all opened his eyes to the vast blunder he hadcommitted, and nerved him to reconquest of the ground that he had lost.

  "I can win her, yet," reflected he, as his car swung into the long andbrilliant night-vista of Fifth Avenue. "I know women, and I understandthe game. Flowers, letters, telephone calls, attention every day--everyhour, if need be--these are the artillery to batter down the strongestfortresses of indifference, even of dislike. And she shall have themall--all and more. Wally, old chap, you've never been beaten at anygame, whether in the Street or in the pursuit of woman. You'll win yet;you're bound to win! And Kate shall yet open the door to you, towardwealth and power and position such as never yet were seen on earth!"

  Thus fortified by his own determination, he slept more calmly thatnight. And, on the morrow, his campaign began.

  It lasted but a week.

  At the end of that time, a friendly little note from Idle Hour told him,frankly and in the kindest manner possible, that--much as she stillliked and respected him--Catherine could not, now or ever, think of himin any other way than as a friend.

  Stunned by this body-blow, "Tiger" first swore with hideous blasphemiesthat caused his valet to retreat precipitately from the famous,nymph-frieze bedchamber; then ordered drink, then walked the floor awhile in a violent passion; and finally knit up his decision.

  "By God!" he swore, shaking his fist in the direction of Englewood."She's balky, eh? She won't, eh? But _I_ say she _will_! And if I can'tmake her, there's her father, who can. Together we can break thisstiff-necked spirit and bring her to time. Hm! Fancy anybody or anythingin this world setting up opposition to Flint and Waldron, combined! Justfancy it, that's all!

  "So then, what's to do? This: See her father and have a heart-to-hearttalk with him. It's obvious she hasn't told him, yet, the real state ofaffairs. I doubt if the old idiot has even noticed the absence of myring from her finger. And if he has,
she's been able to fool him, easilyenough. But not much longer, so help me!

  "No, this very morning he shall hear from me, the whole infernalstory--he shall learn his daughter's unreasonable rebellion, the slightshe's put upon me and her opposition to his will. _Then_ we shallsee--we shall see who's master in that family, he or the girl!"

  With this strong determination in his superheated mind, Waldron rang upFlint, asked for a private talk, at eleven, in the Wall Street office,and made ready the mustering of his arguments; his self-defense; hisappeals to Flint's every sense of interest and liking; his whole pleafor the resumption of the broken betrothal.

  And Catherine, all this time of convalescence--what were her thoughts,and whither were they straying? Not thoughts of Waldron, that is sure,despite his notes, his telephoning, his flowers, his visits. Not to himdid they wander, as she sat in her sunny bedroom bay-window, lookingout over the great, close cropped lawn, through the oaks and elms, tothe Palisades and the sparkling Hudson beneath.

  No, not to Waldron. Yet wander they did, despite her; and withpersistence they followed channels till then quite unknown to her.

  What might these channels be? And whither, I ask again, did the girl'smemories and fancies, her wondering thoughts, her vague, half-formulatedlongings, lead?

  You, perhaps, can answer, as well as I, if you but rememberthat--Billionaire's daughter though she was, and all unversed in thehard realities of life--she was, at heart and soul, very much a womanafter all.