The Lion and the Mouse; a Story of an American Life

by Charles Klein and Arthur Hornblow

  CHAPTER IX

  The library was the most important room in the Ryder mansion, for itwas there that the Colossus carried through his most important businessdeals, and its busiest hours were those which most men devote to rest.But John Burkett Ryder never rested. There could be no rest for any manwho had a thousand millions of dollars to take care of. Like Macbeth,he could sleep no more. When the hum of business life had ceased downtown and he returned home from the tall building in lower Broadway,then his real work began. The day had been given to mere businessroutine; in his own library at night, free from inquisitive ears andprying eyes, he could devise new schemes for strengthening his gripupon the country, he could evolve more gigantic plans for adding to hisalready countless millions.

  Here the money Moloch held court like any king, with as much ceremonyand more secrecy, and having for his courtiers some of the mostprominent men in the political and industrial life of the nation.Corrupt senators, grafting Congressmen, ambitious railroad presidents,insolent coal barons who impudently claimed they administered the coallands in trust for the Almighty, unscrupulous princes of finance andcommerce, all visited this room to receive orders or pay from the headof the "System." Here were made and unmade governors of States, mayorsof cities, judges, heads of police, cabinet ministers, even presidents.Here were turned over to confidential agents millions of dollars tooverturn the people's vote in the National elections; here weredistributed yearly hundreds of thousands of dollars to grafters, largeand small, who had earned it in the service of the "interests."

  Here, secretly and unlawfully, the heads of railroads met to agree onrates which by discriminating against one locality in favour of anothercrushed out competition, raised the cost to the consumer, and putmillions in the pockets of the Trust. Here were planned trickyfinancial operations, with deliberate intent to mislead and deceive theinvesting public, operations which would send stocks soaring one day,only a week later to put Wall Street on the verge of panic. Half adozen suicides might result from the coup, but twice as many millionsof profits had gone into the coffers of the "System." Here, too, wasperpetrated the most heinous crime that can be committed against a freepeople--the conspiring of the Trusts abetted by the railroads, toarbitrarily raise the prices of the necessaries of life--meat, coal,oil, ice, gas--wholly without other justification than that of greed,which, with these men, was the unconquerable, all-absorbing passion. Inshort, everything that unscrupulous leaders of organized capital coulddevise to squeeze the life blood out of the patient, defenceless toilerwas done within these four walls.

  It was a handsome room, noble in proportions and abundantly lighted bythree large and deeply recessed, mullioned windows, one in the middleof the room and one at either end. The lofty ceiling was a marvellouslyfine example of panelled oak of Gothic design, decorated with gold, andthe shelves for books which lined the walls were likewise of oak,richly carved. In the centre of the wall facing the windows was amassive and elaborately designed oak chimney-piece, reaching up to theceiling, and having in the middle panel over the mantel a finethree-quarter length portrait of George Washington. The room wasfurnished sumptuously yet quietly, and fully in keeping with the richcollection of classic and modern authors that filled the bookcases, andin corners here and there stood pedestals with marble busts ofShakespeare, Goethe and Voltaire. It was the retreat of a scholarrather than of a man of affairs.

  When Jefferson entered, his father was seated at his desk, a long blackcigar between his lips, giving instructions to Mr. Bagley. Mr. Ryderlooked up quickly as the door opened and the secretary made a movementforward as if to eject the intruder, no matter who he might be. Theywere not accustomed to having people enter the sanctum of the Colossusso unceremoniously. But when he saw who it was, Mr. Ryder's stern, setface relaxed and he greeted his son amiably.

  "Why, Jeff, my boy, is that you? Just a moment, until I get rid ofBagley, and I'll be with you."

  Jefferson turned to the book shelves and ran over the titles while thefinancier continued his business with the secretary.

  "Now, Bagley. Come, quick. What is it?"

  He spoke in a rapid, explosive manner, like a man who has only a fewmoments to spare before he must rush to catch a train. John Ryder hadbeen catching trains all his life, and he had seldom missed one.

  "Governor Rice called. He wants an appointment," said Mr. Bagley,holding out a card.

  "I can't see him. Tell him so," came the answer, quick as a flash. "Whoelse?" he demanded. "Where's your list?"

  Mr. Bagley took from the desk a list of names and read them over.

  "General Abbey telephoned. He says you promised--"

  "Yes, yes," interrupted Ryder impatiently, "but not here. Down town,to-morrow, any time. Next?"

  The secretary jotted down a note against each name and then said:

  "There are some people downstairs in the reception room. They are hereby appointment."

  "Who are they?"

  "The National Republican Committee and Sergeant Ellison of the SecretService from Washington," replied Mr. Bagley.

  "Who was here first?" demanded the financier.

  "Sergeant Ellison, sir."

  "Then I'll see him first, and the Committee afterwards. But let themall wait until I ring. I wish to speak with my son." He waved his handand the secretary, knowing well from experience that this was a signthat there must be no further discussion, bowed respectfully and leftthe room. Jefferson turned and advanced towards his father, who heldout his hand.

  "Well, Jefferson," he said kindly, "did you have a good time abroad?"

  "Yes, sir, thank you. Such a trip is a liberal education in itself."

  "Ready for work again, eh? I'm glad you're back, Jefferson. I'm busynow, but one of these days I want to have a serious talk with you inregard to your future. This artist business is all very well--for apastime. But it's not a career--surely you can appreciate that--for ayoung man with such prospects as yours. Have you ever stopped to thinkof that?"

  Jefferson was silent. He did not want to displease his father; on theother hand, it was impossible to let things drift as they had beendoing. There must be an understanding sooner or later. Why not now?

  "The truth is, sir," he began timidly, "I'd like a little talk with younow, if you can spare the time."

  Ryder, Sr., looked first at his watch and then at his son, who, ill atease, sat nervously on the extreme edge of a chair. Then he said with asmile:

  "Well, my boy, to be perfectly frank, I can't--but--I will. Come, whatis it?" Then, as if to apologize for his previous abruptness, he added,"I've had a very busy day, Jeff. What with Trans-Continental andTrans-Atlantic and Southern Pacific, and Wall Street, and Rate Bills,and Washington I feel like Atlas shouldering the world."

  "The world wasn't intended for one pair of shoulders to carry, sir,"rejoined Jefferson calmly.

  His father looked at him in amazement. It was something new to hearanyone venturing to question or comment upon anything he said.

  "Why not?" he demanded, when he had recovered from his surprise."Julius Caesar carried it. Napoleon carried it--to a certain extent.However, that's neither here nor there. What is it, boy?"

  Unable to remain a moment inactive, he commenced to pick among the massof papers on his desk, while Jefferson was thinking what to say. Thelast word his father uttered gave him a cue, and he blurted outprotestingly:

  "That's just it, sir. You forget that I'm no longer a boy. It's time totreat me as if I were a man."

  Ryder, Sr., leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily.

  "A man at twenty-eight? That's an excellent joke. Do you know that aman doesn't get his horse sense till he's forty?"

  "I want you to take me seriously," persisted Jefferson.

  Ryder, Sr., was not a patient man. His moments of good humour were ofbrief duration. Anything that savoured of questioning his authorityalways angered him. The smile went out of his face and he retortedexplosively: "Go on--damn it all! Be serious if you want, only don'ttake so
long about it. But understand one thing. I want no preaching,no philosophical or socialistic twaddle. No Tolstoi--he's a greatthinker, and you're not. No Bernard Shaw--he's funny, and you're not.Now go ahead."

  This beginning was not very encouraging, and Jefferson felt somewhatintimidated. But he realized that he might not have another suchopportunity, so he plunged right in.

  "I should have spoken to you before if you had let me," he said. "Ioften--"

  "If I let you?" interrupted his father. "Do you expect me to sit andlisten patiently to your wild theories of social reform? You asked meone day why the wages of the idle rich was wealth and the wages of hardwork was poverty, and I told you that I worked harder in one day than atunnel digger works in a life-time. Thinking is a harder game than any.You must think or you won't know. Napoleon knew more about war than allhis generals put together. I know more about money than any man livingto-day. The man who knows is the man who wins. The man who takes adviceisn't fit to give it. That's why I never take yours. Come, don't be afool, Jeff--give up this art nonsense. Come back to the TradingCompany. I'll make you vice-president, and I'll teach you the businessof making millions."

  Jefferson shook his head. It was hard to have to tell his own fatherthat he did not think the million-making business quite a respectableone, so he only murmured:

  "It's impossible, father. I am devoted to my work. I even intend to goaway and travel a few years and see the world. It will help meconsiderably."

  Ryder, Sr., eyed his son in silence for a few moments; then he saidgently:

  "Don't be obstinate, Jeff. Listen to me. I know the world better thanyou do. You mustn't go away. You are the only flesh and blood I have."

  He stopped speaking for a moment, as if overcome by a sudden emotionover which he had no control. Jefferson remained silent, nervouslytoying with a paper cutter. Seeing that his words had made no effect,Ryder thumped his desk with his fist and cried:

  "You see my weakness. You see that I want you with me, and now you takeadvantage--you take advantage--"

  "No, father, I don't," protested Jefferson; "but I want to go away.Although I have my studio and am practically independent, I want to gowhere I shall be perfectly free--where my every move will not bewatched--where I can meet my fellow-man heart to heart on an equalbasis, where I shall not be pointed out as the son of Ready MoneyRyder. I want to make a reputation of my own as an artist."

  "Why not study theology and become a preacher?" sneered Ryder. Then,more amiably, he said: "No, my lad, you stay here. Study myinterests--study the interests that will be yours some day."

  "No," said Jefferson doggedly, "I'd rather go--my work and myself-respect demand it."

  "Then go, damn it, go!" cried his father in a burst of anger. "I'm afool for wasting my time with an ungrateful son." He rose from his seatand began to pace the room.

  "Father," exclaimed Jefferson starting forward, "you do me aninjustice."

  "An injustice?" echoed Mr. Ryder turning round. "Ye gods! I've givenyou the biggest name in the commercial world; the most colossal fortuneever accumulated by one man is waiting for you, and you say I've doneyou an injustice!"

  "Yes--we are rich," said Jefferson bitterly. "But at what a cost! Youdo not go into the world and hear the sneers that I get everywhere. Youmay succeed in muzzling the newspapers and magazines, but you cannotsilence public opinion. People laugh when they hear the nameRyder--when they do not weep. All your millions cannot purchase theworld's respect. You try to throw millions to the public as a bone to adog, and they decline the money on the ground that it is tainted.Doesn't that tell you what the world thinks of your methods?"

  Ryder laughed cynically. He went back to his desk, and, sitting facinghis son, he replied:

  "Jefferson, you are young. It is one of the symptoms of youth to worryabout public opinion. When you are as old as I am you will understandthat there is only one thing which counts in this world--money. The manwho has it possesses power over the man who has it not, and power iswhat the ambitious man loves most."

  He stopped to pick up a book. It was "The American Octopus." Turningagain to his son, he went on:

  "Do you see this book? It is the literary sensation of the year. Why?Because it attacks me--the richest man in the world. It holds me up asa monster, a tyrant, a man without soul, honour or conscience, caringonly for one thing--money; having but one passion--the love of power,and halting at nothing, not even at crime, to secure it. That is theportrait they draw of your father."

  Jefferson said nothing. He was wondering if his sire had a suspicionwho wrote it and was leading up to that. But Ryder, Sr., continued:

  "Do I care? The more they attack me the more I like it. Their puny penpricks have about the same effect as mosquito bites on the pachyderm.What I am, the conditions of my time made me. When I started inbusiness a humble clerk, forty years ago, I had but one goal--success;I had but one aim--to get rich. I was lucky. I made a little money, andI soon discovered that I could make more money by outwitting mycompetitors in the oil fields. Railroad conditions helped me. The wholecountry was money mad. A wave of commercial prosperity swept over theland and I was carried along on its crest. I grew enormously rich, mymillions increasing by leaps and bounds. I branched out into otherinterests, successful always, until my holdings grew to what they areto-day--the wonder of the twentieth century. What do I care for theworld's respect when my money makes the world my slave? What respectcan I have for a people that cringe before money and let it rule them?Are you aware that not a factory wheel turns, not a vote is counted,not a judge is appointed, not a legislator seated, not a presidentelected without my consent? I am the real ruler of the UnitedStates--not the so-called government at Washington. They are my puppetsand this is my executive chamber. This power will be yours one day,boy, but you must know how to use it when it comes."

  "I never want it, father," said Jefferson firmly. "To me your wordssavour of treason. I couldn't imagine that American talking that way."He pointed to the mantel, at the picture of George Washington.

  Ryder, Sr., laughed. He could not help it if his son was an idealist.There was no use getting angry, so he merely shrugged his shoulders andsaid:

  "All right, Jeff. We'll discuss the matter later, when you've cut yourwisdom teeth. Just at present you're in the clouds. But you spoke of mydoing you an injustice. How can my love of power do you an injustice?"

  "Because," replied Jefferson, "you exert that power over your family aswell as over your business associates. You think and will for everybodyin the house, for everyone who comes in contact with you. Yours is aninfluence no one seems able to resist. You robbed me of my right tothink. Ever since I was old enough to think, you have thought for me;ever since I was old enough to choose, you have chosen for me. You havechosen that I should marry Kate Roberts. That is the one thing I wishedto speak to you about. The marriage is impossible."

  Ryder, Sr., half sprang from his seat. He had listened patiently, hethought, to all that his headstrong son had said, but that he shouldrepudiate in this unceremonious fashion what was a tacit understandingbetween the two families, and, what was more, run the risk of injuringthe Ryder interests--that was inconceivable. Leaving his desk, headvanced into the centre of the room, and folding his arms confrontedJefferson.

  "So," he said sternly, "this is your latest act of rebellion, is it?You are going to welsh on your word? You are going to jilt the girl?"

  "I never gave my word," answered Jefferson hotly. "Nor did Kateunderstand that an engagement existed. You can't expect me to marry agirl I don't care a straw about. It would not be fair to her."

  "Have you stopped to think whether it would be fair to me?" thunderedhis father.

  His face was pale with anger, his jet-black eyes flashed, and his whitehair seemed to bristle with rage. He paced the floor for a few moments,and then turning to Jefferson, who had not moved, he said more calmly:

  "Don't be a fool, Jeff. I don't want to think for you, or to choose foryou, or to marry for you. I
did not interfere when you threw up theposition I made for you in the Trading Company and took that studio. Irealized that you were restless under the harness, so I gave you plentyof rein. But I know so much better than you what is best for you.Believe me I do. Don't--don't be obstinate. This marriage means a greatdeal to my interests--to your interests. Kate's father is all powerfulin the Senate. He'll never forgive this disappointment. Hang it all,you liked the girl once, and I made sure that--"

  He stopped suddenly, and the expression on his face changed as a newlight dawned upon him.

  "It isn't that Rossmore girl, is it?" he demanded. His face grew darkand his jaw clicked as he said between his teeth: "I told you some timeago how I felt about her. If I thought that it was Rossmore's daughter!You know what's going to happen to him, don't you?"

  Thus appealed to, Jefferson thought this was the most favourableopportunity he would have to redeem his promise to Shirley. So, littleanticipating the tempest he was about to unchain, he answered:

  "I am familiar with the charges that they have trumped up against him.Needless to say, I consider him entirely innocent. What's more, Ifirmly believe he is the victim of a contemptible conspiracy. And I'mgoing to make it my business to find out who the plotters are. I cameto ask you to help me. Will you?"

  For a moment Ryder was speechless from utter astonishment. Then, as herealized the significance of his son's words and their application tohimself he completely lost control of himself. His face became livid,and he brought his fist down on his desk with a force that shook theroom.

  "I will see him in hell first!" he cried. "Damn him! He has alwaysopposed me. He has always defied my power, and now his daughter hasentrapped my son. So it's her you want to go to, eh? Well, I can't makeyou marry a girl you don't want, but I can prevent you throwingyourself away on the daughter of a man who is about to be publiclydisgraced, and, by God, I will."

  "Poor old Rossmore," said Jefferson bitterly. "If the history of everyfinancial transaction were made known, how many of us would escapepublic disgrace? Would you?" he cried.

  Ryder, Sr., rose, his hands working dangerously. He made a movement asif about to advance on his son, but by a supreme effort he controlledhimself.

  "No, upon my word, it's no use disinheriting you, you wouldn't care. Ithink you'd be glad; on my soul, I do!" Then calming down once more, headded: "Jefferson, give me your word of honour that your object ingoing away is not to find out this girl and marry her unknown to me. Idon't mind your losing your heart, but, damn it, don't lose your head.Give me your hand on it."

  Jefferson reluctantly held out his hand.

  "If I thought you would marry that girl unknown to me, I'd haveRossmore sent out of the country and the woman too. Listen, boy. Thisman is my enemy, and I show no mercy to my enemies. There are morereasons than one why you cannot marry Miss Rossmore. If she knew one ofthem she would not marry you."

  "What reasons?" demanded Jefferson.

  "The principal one," said Ryder, slowly and deliberately, and eyeinghis son keenly as if to judge of the effect of his words, "theprincipal one is that it was through my agents that the demand was madefor her father's impeachment."

  "Ah," cried Jefferson, "then I guessed aright! Oh, father, how couldyou have done that? If you only knew him!"

  Ryder, Sr., had regained command of his temper, and now spoke calmlyenough.

  "Jefferson, I don't have to make any apologies to you for the way Iconduct my business. The facts contained in the charge were brought tomy attention. I did not see why I should spare him. He never spared me.I shall not interfere, and the probabilities are that he will beimpeached. Senator Roberts said this afternoon that it was a certainty.You see yourself how impossible a marriage with Miss Rossmore would be,don't you?"

  "Yes, father, I see now. I have nothing more to say."

  "Do you still intend going away?"

  "Yes," replied Jefferson bitterly. "Why not? You have taken away theonly reason why I should stay."

  "Think it well over, lad. Marry Kate or not, as you please, but I wantyou to stay here."

  "It's no use. My mind is made up," answered Jefferson decisively.

  The telephone rang, and Jefferson got up to go. Mr. Ryder took up thereceiver.

  "Hallo! What's that? Sergeant Ellison? Yes, send him up."

  Putting the telephone down, Ryder, Sr., rose, and crossing the roomaccompanied his son to the door.

  "Think it well over, Jeff. Don't be hasty."

  "I have thought it over, sir, and I have decided to go."

  A few moments later Jefferson left the house.

  Ryder, Sr., went back to his desk and sat for a moment in deep thought.For the first time in his life he was face to face with defeat; for thefirst time he had encountered a will as strong as his own. He who couldrule parliaments and dictate to governments now found himself powerlessto rule his own son. At all costs, he mused, the boy's infatuation forJudge Rossmore's daughter must be checked, even if he had to blackenthe girl's character as well as the father's, or, as a last resort,send the entire family out of the country. He had not lost sight of hisvictim since the carefully prepared crash in Wall Street, and the saleof the Rossmore home following the bankruptcy of the Great NorthwesternMining Company. His agents had reported their settlement in the quietlittle village on Long Island, and he had also learned of MissRossmore's arrival from Europe, which coincided strangely with thehome-coming of his own son. He decided, therefore, to keep a closerwatch on Massapequa now than ever, and that is why to-day's call ofSergeant Ellison, a noted sleuth in the government service, found soready a welcome.

  The door opened, and Mr. Bagley entered, followed by a tall, powerfullybuilt man whose robust physique and cheap looking clothes contrastedstrangely with the delicate, ultra-fashionably attired Englishsecretary.

  "Take a seat, Sergeant," said Mr. Ryder, cordially motioning hisvisitor to a chair. The man sat down gingerly on one of the richleather-upholstered chairs. His manner was nervous and awkward, as ifintimidated in the presence of the financier.

  "Are the Republican Committee still waiting?" demanded Mr. Ryder.

  "Yes, sir," replied the secretary.

  "I'll see them in a few minutes. Leave me with Sergeant Ellison."

  Mr. Bagley bowed and retired.

  "Well, Sergeant, what have you got to report?"

  He opened a box of cigars that stood on the desk and held it out to thedetective.

  "Take a cigar," he said amiably.

  The man took a cigar, and also the match which Mr. Ryder held out. Thefinancier knew how to be cordial with those who could serve him.

  "Thanks. This is a good one," smiled the sleuth, sniffing at the weed."We don't often get a chance at such as these."

  "It ought to be good," laughed Ryder. "They cost two dollars apiece."

  The detective was so surprised at this unheard of extravagance that heinhaled a puff of smoke which almost choked him. It was like burningmoney.

  Ryder, with his customary bluntness, came right down to business.

  "Well, what have you been doing about the book?" he demanded. "Have youfound the author of 'The American Octopus'?"

  "No, sir, I have not. I confess I'm baffled. The secret has been wellkept. The publishers have shut up like a clam. There's only one thingthat I'm pretty well sure of."

  "What's that?" demanded Ryder, interested.

  "That no such person as Shirley Green exists."

  "Oh," exclaimed, the financier, "then you think it is a mere nom deplume?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And what do you think was the reason for preserving the anonymity?"

  "Well, you see, sir, the book deals with a big subject. It gives somehard knocks, and the author, no doubt, felt a little timid aboutlaunching it under his or her real name. At least that's my theory,sir."

  "And a good one, no doubt," said Mr. Ryder. Then he added: "That makesme all the more anxious to find out who it is. I would willingly givethis moment a check for $5,000 to k
now who wrote it. Whoever it is,knows me as well as I know myself. We must find the author."

  The sleuth was silent for a moment. Then he said:

  "There might be one way to reach the author, but it will be successfulonly in the event of her being willing to be known and come out intothe open. Suppose you write to her in care of the publishers. Theywould certainly forward the letter to wherever she may be. If she doesnot want you to know who she is she will ignore your letter and remainin the background. If, on the contrary, she has no fear of you, and iswilling to meet you, she will answer the letter."

  "Ah, I never thought of that!" exclaimed Ryder. "It's a good idea. I'llwrite such a letter at once. It shall go to-night."

  He unhooked the telephone and asked Mr. Bagley to come up. A fewseconds later the secretary entered the room.

  "Bagley," said Mr. Ryder, "I want you to write a letter for me to MissShirley Green, author of that book 'The American Octopus. We willaddress it care of her publishers, Littleton & Co. Just say that ifconvenient I should like a personal interview with her at my office,No. 36 Broadway, in relation to her book, 'The American Octopus.' Seethat it is mailed to-night. That's all."

  Mr. Bagley bowed and retired. Mr. Ryder turned to the secret serviceagent.

  "There, that's settled. We'll see how it works. And now, Sergeant, Ihave another job for you, and if you are faithful to my interests youwill not find me unappreciative. Do you know a little place on LongIsland called Massapequa?"

  "Yes," grinned the detective, "I know it. They've got some finespecimens of 'skeeters' there."

  Paying no attention to this jocularity, Mr. Ryder continued:

  "Judge Rossmore is living there--pending the outcome of his case in theSenate. His daughter has just arrived from Europe. My son Jeffersoncame home on the same ship. They are a little more friendly than I careto have them. You understand. I want to know if my son visits theRossmores, and if he does I wish to be kept informed of all that'sgoing on. You understand?"

  "Perfectly, sir. You shall know everything."

  Mr. Ryder took a blank check from his desk and proceeded to fill it up.Then handing it to the detective, he said:

  "Here is $500 for you. Spare neither trouble or expense."

  "Thank you, sir," said the man as he pocketed the money. "Leave it tome."

  "That's about all, I think. Regarding the other matter, we'll see howthe letter works."

  He touched a bell and rose, which was a signal to the visitor that theinterview was at an end. Mr. Bagley entered.

  "Sergeant Ellison is going," said Mr. Ryder. "Have him shown out, andsend the Republican Committee up."