The Banker and the Bear

by Henry Kitchell Webste

  They had not been three minutes in the little reception room before they heard footsteps and voices in the hall. The portiere was thick, but Dick heard first a high voice, which she did not know, and then a gruffer one, which she seemed to recognize. As she glanced toward the por- tiere, Mrs. Curtin said,

  “ That must be Mr. Sponley with Mr. Curtin.” Mrs. Curtin had not the smallest interest in Melville Sponley, but something must serve for conversation until the kettle could be got to boil, and he made the best material at hand, so she talked about him : how a few months ago he had come to see Mr. Curtin a number of times ; how once he had brought Mrs. Sponley to call on them. She told Dick what she thought of them, and what her friends thought of them and a great deal more, which bored Dick and herself also exceedingly, so that both of them were very much relieved when it was possible for Dick to take her leave.

  But now !

  Sponley had never thought Dick worth tak- ing into account. He believed her apparent interest in the fight for the bank to be nothing more than a pose. He had met many of those women who will affect an interest in anything so long as it is out of what used to be consid- ered “woman’s sphere,” and he took it for granted that Dick was doing the same thing. So though his eyes were everywhere else, they never fell on Dick. Had he looked at her now, he would have seen that she knew he had lied.

  She began to try to think out the meaning of it, but checked herself, for she must follow the discussion.

  “He’s holding out for something, that’s all there is to it,” said Robins. “What do you suppose he wants? Board of Directors?”

  “ He can’t have that, if he does want it,” said John. “We couldn’t get him in if we wanted to try, and he’s not the right sort, any way.”

  “Wonder how something with 9. salary to it would suit him,” Sponley said thoughtfully. “ I don’t believe it would have to be too near the top, either.”

  “ Assistant cashier ? “ asked John.

  Sponley nodded. “ Guess we could land him with that,” he said.

  John smiled rather ruefully. “ We’ve got to have him, so I suppose we’ll have to pay the price. It’ll simply mean putting in a high-priced man for discount clerk to do his work.”

  Those were busy days, for while John was bringing every available resource into line for the approaching struggle, Alice and Dick were superintending the rehabilitation of the gloomy old house where John had spent his boyhood, and which was now to be their home. It would be unfair not to mention Jack Dorlin in this connection, for his taste, his energy, when he chose to exert it, and his unlimited leisure made him a most valuable ally. The three spent about half their days in the big house, con- sulting, arguing the advisibility of this change or that, arranging and rearranging, until even Dick admitted she was tired.

  But she found time to tell Jack all she knew about the fight for the bank, and to her surprise she found that her enthusiasm had proved con- tagious, for Jack was infected with as great an eagerness over the result as she herself.

  Melville Sponley had the lion’s share of their discussions, but they could not make out the purpose of his deceit. They were agreed that what they knew was too indefinite to speak to John about, at least as yet.

  “ And any way,” Jack observed, “ Sponley isn’t an out-and-out villain.”

  “All the same,” said Dick, “I wish we could find out what his purpose was in saying he didn’t know Mr. Curtin.” Then she added, laughing, “That does sound detectivish, doesn’t it? We might set a detective to following Mr. Curtin.”

  “ Yes,” he answered ; “ say we do.”

  The days of preparation and struggle came to an end at last, and John won. His father’s stock was not voted, and of the Board of Direc- tors elected by the outside stock only two were likely to attempt to oppose his policy, while the other four were men he could count on to help him. He was sorry he had been forced to pledge to Curtin the position of assistant cashier; but he comforted himself with the reflection that the concession had been well worth the price.

  He had arrived, not at the goal, but rather, after years of waiting, at what he regarded as the starting line. The situation was very dif- ferent from what he had been looking forward to. His hold on the presidency was so insecure that one of a dozen accidents might dislodge him ; but he was in no humor for complaining. He had a chance, and that was all John Bags- bury needed.

  When he came home, bearing the good news, even Alice was excited, and Dick could scarcely contain herself. Jack came over while they were still at dinner, and hearing his voice in the hall, she rushed from the table to welcome him.

  “ Well, we’ve won,” they cried simultaneously. Then they laughed and shook hands, both hands, and then for a second there seemed to be nothing more to say.

  Jack broke the silence. “ When we get fairly settled, you must come down to see us.”

  “ We ! Us ! “ she exclaimed. “ Jack ! what do you mean ? “

  “Why,” he said, “ I asked Mr. Bagsbury for a job, and he has promised me one. I believe it is in what they call the kindergarten.”

  She had been looking at him in doubt as to whether or not he was making game of her ; but now she saw that he was telling the truth, and she interrupted.

  “ Jack ! Jack ! “ she cried. Then with a little laugh she began again. “ Oh, you absurd “ Again she stopped and said composedly :

  “ We’ve not finished dinner yet. Will you come into the dining room to wait, or would you rather go into the library where you can smoke ? “

  Jack went into the library and lighted a cigar very deliberately. Then he remarked with con- viction,

  “ If she’d looked that way for another second, I’d have kissed h

  CHAPTER V

  OLD FRIENDS

  SPONLEY drove home immediately after the re- sult of the election became known ; but Harriet had expected him earlier, and when she heard the carriage drive up, she hurried into the hall and opened the door before he reached it.

  “ How did you come out ? “ she asked.

  “ We win,” he answered, “ and comfortably, too.”

  He closed the door behind him and then kissed her, and while she was helping him out of his great-coat, he asked her how her day had gone.

  “Well enough,” she answered briefly, “but never mind about that. I want to know all about the stockholders’ meeting.”

  From a casual glance they seem to have changed but little since John Bagsbury’s wed- ding day. Sponley has put on another twenty pounds of flesh ; he is so heavy now that he walks but little and sits down whenever it is possible. His hair is thinner and his lower eye- lids sag somewhat, showing the red. As for Harriet, her once black hair is really very gray, and the lines are drawn deeper in her face ; but her color is as fresh as ever, and her carriage is erect. Only a close observer would note that her eyes are too bright and are seldom still, and that the color in her cheeks flickers at a sudden noise or movement. When she is left alone and is sure that no one sees, her nervous energy seems to depart suddenly and leave her limp and exhausted ; then her face grows haggard, and she stares at objects without seeing them.

  Twenty years ago Sponley would have ob- served; he would have surrounded her with doctors and nurses, or have taken her away tosome quiet place where she might rest. He would do all that now, and more, only he does not see. For the years have changed him too.

  Melville Sponley and others like him are the soldiers of fortune of to-day. The world has always known these gentry in every grade in the social scale, from the great duke, who once led the armies of the queen of England and was never unwilling to sell out to any one who could afford to pay his price, to the poor devil who, for a half crown, would drive a knife into a man’s back; whatever their ability, whatever their weapons, daggers, or collateral securities, they are all alike in this : that not having, but getting, is their purpose ; it is not the stake but the play that interests them. In all the active years of business, Sponley has never
pro- duced any wealth, he has never fostered an industrial enterprise or any commercial inter- est whatever ; he has juggled with many and has wrecked not a few. He has fought now on this side of the market, now on that, and he has yet to meet with his first real defeat. That is partly due to luck, no doubt, but not so much as many men suppose. Like any other soldier of fortune, he wins by the difference between his nerve and quickness of judgment and that of other men.

  It is very easy to call such a man a rascal when you are reading about him in a book ; but if you begin doing it among the men of your acquaintance, it will be awkward.

  There is indeed a blind spot on Melville Sponley’s moral retina which gives him only a very confused sense of the eighth command- ment;but still Jack Dorlin was right in saying that he is not a thorough-going villain. In the score of years past he has done much good ; he has, whenever possible, been loyal to his friends, and he has never ceased to hold a genuine affection for his wife ; but the struggle has hardened him, has cased him in a shell, and like an old-time man-at-arms in a helmet, he can see only the thing immediately in front of him. Harriet has been in the fight, too, only hers has been the harder part. When she married Melville Sponley, she gave up everything to him, and through all the years she has had no interests but his. She has followed all his campaigns, has praised him and schemed with him, and been ambitious as he himself for his success. Had she borne him any children whose care would have brought a gentler influ- ence into her life, or even if she had been able to find any real companionship among other women, it might have been different. But as it is, in spite of her courage and determination, the strain has been unendurable, and her nerves have been breaking, slowly at first, but more rapidly in these last few months ; and as her own ambition has always been thatshe might help him win, the terror that has dogged her has been that she may prove a drag upon him. So she has told herself every day that she is glad he does not see.

  To their friends, their home life shows few changes after the twenty years. It was still as comfortable and quiet and unostentatious as when John Bagsbury was first introduced into it. They live in the same house, and to-night, after dinner, they came out into the same big fire-lit room where John met Alice Blair.

  Sponley lighted a cigar and dropped into his easy-chair before the fire, while Harriet sat down at the piano. He never tired of hearing her play, and now he listened comfortably and blew smoke rings. But as the minutes went by her music lost consequence and ceased to be anything but a fitful progression of hard, disso- nant chords. Once he glanced curiously at her, but her eyes were on the keys, and she did not see him. Finally she struck a grating discord, softly, and continued it as though loath to let it go until it throbbed away in silence.

  “ What the dickens are you playing ! “ he exclaimed.

  Her hands leaped from the keys ; she caught her breath in a gasp, and there came a splash of color into her face followed by a dead pallor. Two or three seconds passed before she could command her voice.

  “ You startled me,” she said monotonously ; “ I was thinking.”

  “ I’m sorry,” he said, with real concern. “You’re so different from other women in the matter of nerves that I never think of your having any.”

  She smiled somewhat ruefully at the com- pliment. “ I was thinking,”she said, “ about that Jervis Curtin affair. It puzzles me. You haven’t told me all about it.”

  She paused to give him a chance to reply, but he only gazed meditatively at the thread of blue smoke rising from his cigar, and after a moment she went on :

  “ Of course I know that you helped him out a few months ago when he mixed himself up in some speculation or other, and I know Mrs. JervisCurtin, too ; so that it seems queer that he should have been able to get hold of enough of the Bagsbury stock to lay down the law to you and John.”

  “ There’s nothing to make a mystery about,” he said at length. “ He hasn’t any of the stock ; not a dollar of it. I hold all that’s in his name. I had him get it for me because I thought I might be able to use it to better advantage if it wasn’t known to belong to me.”

  “Why did you put him in the bank ? “

  “ He wanted it ; he can’t afford to do nothing. You’re right in thinking that his wife spends more than his income, and he needed the salary. I put him in just on general principles.”

  “ With the understanding that he’s to watch John Bagsbury,” she said quickly.

  “ With no definite understanding at all. Of course, in a general way, he’s there in my inter- est, and he knows it.”

  “ What are you planning to do to John ? “ she asked. “ Stick him or squeeze him or something ? I thought you two were friends.”

  “ We are friends,” Sponley answered slowly, patiently, as one might speak to a child. “ And I’m not laying any plot to stick him. Nobody does that wantonly, unless he’s a great fool. It’s a kind of smartnessthat doesn’t pay. We are friends,” he repeated, “and I hope we always may be. I honestly believe that our interests lie together.”

  “ Then I don’t see why you go to the trouble of hiring a man to spy on him.”

  “ If a man could trust absolutely to his fore- sight, he wouldn’t have to do things like that, but he can’t. I don’t expect to have to fight John Bagsbury ; but something may turn up that I’m not looking for. If it does, I’m better off for not laying all my cards on the table. That’s all. But I’d go a long way to avoid a fight with him.”

  “Then your friendship for him is just like your friendship for other men, only a little more so ; it goes just as far as it pays.”

  He said nothing. She rose abruptly, walked to the window, and drawing aside the curtain, stood looking at the dusty snow on the ledge. She had suddenly felt that she could not bear to look at him, he sat so still. After a moment she spoke again.

  “ I knew it was that way at first. We made friends with him because we thought it would help along. But I thought that in all these years he had got to be something more to you than just a good investment that you’d hate to have to take your money out of.”

  Still he did not speak. He had not even turned his head when she had walked to the window.

  “ I wonder “ her voice, in spite of her effort, was fast getting beyond her control “ I wonder if there’s anything anything in the world that’s any more to you than that, or if I’m just part of the game. Oh,” she choked, but recovered her voice and went on rapidly, “you didn’t want to tell me about the Curtin business. Is it because “

  He rose heavily from his chair ; and, coming up behind her, laid his hands on her shoulders. “ Steady,” he said ; “ you’re tired to-night. I hadn’t noticed before, but you must be rather played out. I never knew you to break this way before. What you need is a good rest. You go to bed now, and to-morrow, when you feel better, we’ll talk about going away somewhere where you can rest up.”

  “ No,” she said quickly, facing him, “ I don’t want to go away. I’d rather see it out here.”

  With an effort, which he did not at all appre- ciate, she was rapidly regaining control of her- self. When next she spoke, her manner was natural.

  “I’m rather fagged to-night,” she admitted; “but I’ll be all right in the morning. And I had been worrying over your not telling me about that. I’ve been acting in a very silly way about it. Forget it, dear, won’t you ? “

  “ I think we’d better call it square,” he an- swered, smiling. “ I ought to have told you all about it. I don’t quite know why I didn’t.”

  He went upstairs with her ; then, leaving her at the door, came down to finish his cigar.

  He sat there a long time, thinking. Harriet’s break, as he called it, alarmed him ; largely, it must be confessed, on his own account. She was the only companion he had ; she stimulated him and rested him, and, what was most impor- tant, she appreciated him. The delight would be gone out of a successful campaign if she were not at his elbow to perceive and applaud and suggest. Yet his thoughts wer
e not wholly selfish. Harriet was the best part of him ; his affection for her was perhaps induced only by her strong devotion to him, but whatever its cause and its limitations, it was genuine. But he did not at all appreciate how serious her condition really was, and he soon ceased think- ing about her at all.

  He took up the evening paper, and after reflecting a long while over the commercial pages, he decided that lard was going to be a lot higher in the next few months, and that he would buy some next day. Then he threw aside the paper, and his mind reverted to John Bagsbury. In telling Harriet that he did not expect ever to be forced into a fight with John, he had not been frank. There was, indeed, as yet no reason for anticipating such an occur- rence ; but Sponley was intelligent enough to trust his intuitions, and he felt sure that sooner or later he and John would have to settle the question as to which was the better man.

  He had no idea when the struggle would come ; he would have been greatly surprised had he known how imminent it really was ; and he could form no guess as to what could precipi- tate it. But he knew he would be ready for it when it did come, and at the thought he smiled in genuine artistic anticipation. John Bagsbury was a worthy antagonist. Sponley did not wish to fight him, he would go far to avoid fighting him ; but if it should come to that, and he knew in his heart it would, well, the fight would be worth coming a long way to see.

  CHAPTER VI

  LARD

  “ Is Mr. Bagsbury in ? “

  The question was addressed to Jervis Curtin, who was sitting at his desk just outside the private office.

  “ I think so,” he answered. “ Just go right through into the inner office. I fancy you’ll find him there.”

  The visitor nodded, and, walking through the cashier’s private office, entered John Bagsbury’s sanctum and closed the door behind him.