CHAPTER XII.
SIMPLE SIMON.
"The appointment you heard them make. I missed the rendezvous."
"Harry Arnold said Wednesday was his locky day----"
"Lucky day," corrected Shagarach.
"His lucky day," said Aronson, "and if the old lady put up he wouldbreak the bank."
"That I understand. A gambling tryst. The old lady is his mother. Put upmeans to pay his money. But the place--what was the name of the place?"
"When they left each other Arnold said: 'Wednesday at the Tough-Coat,'and Kennedy said: 'All right, Harry.'"
"Repeat that word."
"Tough-Coat."
"Repeat it again."
"Tough-Coat."
Still Shagarach looked nonplused. The syllables conveyed no meaningwhatever. Yet Aronson felt sure of the substantial accuracy of hisversion.
"Very well." The lawyer dismissed the subject, sent Aronson off onirrelevant business and gave a few hours of attention to his otherclients. The law's delay had not infected Shagarach. Whatever the matterhe undertook, he was punctual as the clock in its performances, thoughnot, in the ordinary sense of the word, a methodical man.
Early in the afternoon an unlooked-for visitor took his place amongthose waiting in the outer room. Jacob hastened to give him the chair ofprecedence, and announced his name to Shagarach, then in closetconference with an honest-appearing bookkeeper, whose acquittal on acharge of forgery he had just procured.
"I will see Mr. Rabofsky next," said the lawyer to Jacob.
The man so called was a short, bulky Hebrew, of 60-odd winters (onewould prefer reckoning his years by the more rigorous season). His nosewas like an owl's beak and his beard spread itself luxuriantly over hisface, plainly undefiled of the scissors. The hair was indeterminatelyreddish and gray and his eyes were the color of steel. Shagarach bowedhim into his private room, the caller strutting like one accustomed tohomage.
Although the door was closed behind him as usual, Rabofsky glancedsuspiciously around and spoke in the Hebrew jargon--that grafting offoreign idioms on a German patois which his tribe has carried all overeastern Europe, and latterly, via Hamburg, into the cities of America.
"It is a long time since we have met, kinsman Shagarach," he said.
"A long time since I have had that honor," replied the lawyer, bowingwith the Hebrew's respect for age.
"Not since your respected father's funeral, I believe. He was one of myfriends, whose memory always remains to uplift me--a glory to our raceand religion."
"My respected father's friends are my friends to the end of my days."
Shagarach's father had been a rabbin or expounder of the sacred books.Great was the scandal when Rabbi Moses' son abandoned daily attendanceat the synagogue and gave himself over to the ways, though not to thesociety, of the gentiles. His mother, with whom he lived, still kept upthe observances of the law, baking the unleavened bread at the paschalseason and purchasing the flesh only of the lawfully butchered ox. Herson neither praised nor blamed, but she knew he was no longer ofIsrael's sects; not even of the mystical Essenes, among whom his fathermight be counted, and whose study is the unpronounceable name of God.Others of his people who lacked a mother's indulgence knew this, and itwas rarely that one of the orthodox children of Israel brought hisworldly troubles to Shagarach.
"Your health is strong under Jehovah, I trust," continued SimonRabofsky.
"Have you come to inquire about my health?" asked Shagarach. The oldman's prelude, beginning so fitfully and far away, threatened to prolongitself interminably.
"Nay, a small affair of consultation which it shall be richly worth yourwhile to advise upon," answered the other, craftily.
"State the facts with brevity and clearness."
"Speedily, kinsman Shagarach, speedily." Again he looked cautiouslyaround. "You are aware that out of the savings of my days of hard laborI occasionally permit the use of small sums to my friends."
"You are a money-lender? That I know. One of my clients desires a loanof you. Which is it?"
"Not one of your clients, kinsman Shagarach."
"Who?"
"Mrs. Arnold."
Not a muscle of Shagarach's well-schooled countenance quivered, thoughthe old Jew's eyes almost pierced him as he uttered the name. Oppositeas the two men were in every trait, a substratum of affinity came out inthis deadlock of their glances. On both sides the same set lip, the sameimmobile forehead, trained by centuries of traffic to conceal thefermentation of the powerful brain within.
"I am not acquainted with the lady," said Shagarach.
"But you are acquainted with her estate under the will of herbrother-in-law."
Thoroughly aroused now to his subject, Rabofsky had abandoned hisroundabout manner and pushed his words rapidly forth in an indistinctgrowl.
"Slightly so. State the facts."
"I will. Yesterday there came to my office a lady, all veiled, and askedme for $10,000. 'That is a large sum,' said I. 'You have it,' said she,'and I want it. I will pay for it.' 'Yes, indeed, you shall pay for it,'I said to myself, but aloud I only asked her: 'What security could yougive me if I should go about among my friends and trouble them andtrouble myself for your service?' 'The security of my name,' sheanswered, proudly, like a queen commanding her scullion. 'I am Mrs.Arnold, widow of the banker, Henry Arnold, and a daughter of EzraBrewster of Lynn.' 'Oh, madam,' said I, 'I am Simon Rabofsky, husband ofRebecca Rabofsky, and a son of the high priest Levi, who is twicementioned in the talmud; but I could not borrow $10,000 without pledgingsomething more substantial than my great ancestor's name.' Then shesneered a little under her veil, the proud unbeliever, and took out herrubies and diamonds and watch--a glittering heap. 'Keep these until Ireturn you the money,' she said. 'This is not enough,' said I, examiningthe stones. 'Have you nothing more?' 'My son's interest in the estate ofthe late Prof. Arnold will cover your paltry loan 500 times over.' 'Iwill reflect upon the subject,' said I. 'Call again in two days.' So Icame to consult kinsman Shagarach."
"Well?"
"Has her son any interest in Prof. Arnold's estate?"
The question had come point-blank at last and Shagarach found himselfless prepared to answer it than he could have wished.
The Arnolds were financially embarrassed, possibly ruined, by Harry'sinfatuation for the gaming-table. This was to be inferred from theconversation with Kennedy over-heard by Aronson. Their real estate mustbe mortgaged to the limit, perhaps beyond its shrunken value, or Mrs.Arnold would not be begging a loan at a money-lender's shop. Familyjewels were invariably the last resort of declining fortunes unwillingto abandon cherished appearances. Should he advise the loan and letHarry cast it away, as he seemed likely to do, in his ambition to "breakthe bank?" Such a step might place the young man in his power.
For the standing of the will was still uncertain. Evidence might be inexistence sufficient to uphold the destroyed document. In that eventMrs. Arnold's promissory note to Rabofsky would be worth no more thanthe value of the securities he held. Robert's statement was positivethat Harry was disinherited. This opened up a new view to Shagarach.
It would be fatal to the interests of Floyd if the will should beignored and half the estate allowed him as heir-at-law. Such a parade ofthe profits of the incendiary's crime could not fail to rearouse a burstof public indignation which would work its way into the jury-box.Shagarach determined then and there to strive for the upholding of thewill, though it should mean the ruin of the Arnold fortune and the lossto Robert Floyd of $5,000,000.
"I do not know," he answered. Something was due to Rabofsky.
"You have waited a long time. You have been thinking. What do youthink?"
"It is a difficult part of a difficult problem. My advice----"
"You will not charge your respected father's friend unreasonably?" putin the Jew.
Shagarach knew that Rabofsky was a pharisee of the strictest sect andhad not been his father's friend. He knew also that reasonableness ofcharge wa
s not one of his own eccentricities, and probably would not beexemplified in the loan to Mrs. Arnold. But he replied:
"Certainly not. I shall consider that when the work is done."
"Now, kinsman Shagarach."
"Not now. I cannot foresee the amount of labor, the number ofconsultations, involved," said Shagarach, resolutely. "Do you wish myadvice?"
"I shall not pay the charge if it is unreasonable," growled Rabofsky.
"For the present I advise you to lend only what you can with safety onthe pledges. I will see Mrs. Arnold about the estate and confer with youfurther after our interview."
At that moment Aronson opened the door, his eyes dancing withexcitement. He panted, as if he had just run upstairs.
"Meester Shagarach," he broke in, but stood awed in the presence ofRabofsky, who was a potent man in the Ghetto.
"Escort Mr. Rabofsky to the stairs," said Shagarach, approachingAronson, so that the latter might have an opportunity to whisper hismessage. He was none too soon, for a young man had already entered thedoor of the outer room.
"Kennedy," whispered Aronson.
It was Harry Arnold's friend.
The Incendiary: A Story of Mystery Page 12