CHAPTER III
The third generation of the Gates family consisted of two girls and aboy. They were brought up as to their early childhood in what may becalled moderate circumstances. A small home near the little mill town, asingle Chinese servant, a setter dog, and plenty of horses formed theirentourage. When Charles, Jr., was eleven, and his sisters six and eight,however, the family moved to a pretentious "mansion" on Nob Hill in SanFrancisco. The environment of childhood became a memory: the reality oflife was comprised in the super-luxurious existence on Nob Hill.
It was not a particularly wise existence. Whims were too easilyrealized, consequences too lightly avoided, discipline too capricious.The children were sent to private schools where they met only their ownkind; they were specifically forbidden to mingle with the "hoodlums" inthe next street; they became accustomed to being sent here and there incarriages with two servants, or later, in motor cars; they had alwaysspending money for the asking.
"I know what it is like to scrimp and save, and my children are going tobe spared that!" was Mrs. Gates's creed in the matter.
The little girls were always dressed alike in elaborately simpleclothes, with frilly, starched underpinnies, silk stockings, high bootsbuttoned up slim legs; and across their shoulders, from beneathwonderful lingerie hats, hung shining curls. The latter were notnatural, but had each day to be elaborately constructed. They made adainty and charming picture.
"Did you ever see anything so sweet in all your life!" was theinvariable feminine exclamation.
Clara and Ethel-May always heard these remarks. They conductedthemselves with the poise and _savoir faire_ of grown women. Before theywere twelve they could "handle" servants, conduct polite conversationsin a correctly artificial accent, and adapt their manners to another'sstation in life.
Charley Junior's development was sharply divided into two periods, withthe second of which alone we have to do. The first, briefly, wasrepressive. He was not allowed to play with certain boys, he was notpermitted to stray beyond certain bounds, he was kept clean anddressed-up, he was taught his manners. In short, Mrs. Gatestried--without knowing what she was doing--to use the same formula onhim as she had on Ethel-May and Clara.
In the second period, he was a grief to his family. Roughly speaking,this period commenced about the time he began to be known as "Chuck"instead of Charley.
There was no real harm in the boy. He was high spirited, full of life,strong as a horse, and curious. Possessed of the patrician haughty goodlooks we breed so easily from shirtsleeves, free with his money, knownas the son of his powerful father, a good boxer, knowing no fear, hespeedily became a familiar popular figure around town. It delighted himto play the prince, either incognito or in person; to "blow off thecrowd," to battle joyously with longshoremen; to "rough house" thesemi-respectable restaurants. The Barbary Coast knew him, Taits,Zinkands, the Poodle Dog, the Cliff House, Franks, and many otherresorts not to be spoken of so openly. He even got into the policecourts once or twice; and nonchalantly paid a fine, with a joke at thejudge and a tip to the policeman who had arrested him. There was toomuch drinking, too much gambling, too loose a companionship, altogethertoo much spending; but in this case the life was redeemed from its usualsignificance by a fantastic spirit of play, a generosity of soul, aregard for the unfortunate, a courtliness toward all the world, arefusal to believe in meanness or sordidness or cruelty. Chuck Gates wasinbred with the spirit of _noblesse oblige_.
As soon as motor cars came in Chuck had the raciest possible. With it hemanaged to frighten a good many people half out of their wits. He had noaccidents, partly because he was a very good heady driver, and partlybecause those whom he encountered were quick witted. One day whiletouring in the south he came down grade around a bend squarely upon acar ascending. Chuck's car was going too fast to be stopped. He trieddesperately to wrench it from the road, but perceived at once that thiswas impossible without a fatal skid. Fortunately the only turnout for ahalf mile happened to be just at that spot. The other man managed tojump his car out on this little side ledge and to jam on his brakes atthe very brink, just as Chuck flashed by. His mud guards slipped underthose at the rear of the other car.
"Close," observed Chuck to Joe Merrill his companion, "I was going alittle too fast," and thought no more of it.
But the other man, being angry, turned around and followed him intotown. At the garage he sought Chuck out.
"Didn't you pass me on the grade five miles back?" he inquired.
"I may have done so," replied Chuck, courteously.
"Don't you realize that you were going altogether too fast for amountain grade? that you were completely out of control?"
"I'm afraid I'll have to admit that that is so."
"Well," said the other man, with difficulty suppressing his anger. "Whatdo you suppose would have happened if I hadn't just been able to pullout?"
"Why," replied Chuck, blandly, "I suppose I'd have had to pay heavily;that's all."
"Pay!" cried the man, then checked himself with an effort, "so youimagine you are privileged to the road, do whatever damage youplease--and _pay!_ I'll just take your number."
"That is unnecessary. My name is Charles Gates," replied Chuck, "of SanFrancisco."
The man appeared never to have heard of this potent cognomen. A monthlater the trial came off. It was most inconvenient. Chuck was in Oregon,hunting. He had to travel many hundreds of miles, to pay an expensivelawyer. In the end he was fined. The whole affair disgusted him, but hewent through with it well, testified without attempt at evasion. It wasa pity; but evidently the other man was no gentleman.
"I acknowledged I was wrong," he told Joe Merrill. He honestly felt thatthis would have been sufficient had the cases been reversed. In answerto a question as to whether he considered it fair to place the burden ofsafety on the other man, he replied:
"Among motorists it is customary to exchange the courtesies of theroad--and sometimes the discourtesies," he added with a faint scorn.
The earthquake and fire of 1906 caught him in town. During three daysand nights he ran his car for the benefit of the sufferers; goingpractically without food or sleep, exercising the utmost audacity andingenuity in getting supplies, running fearlessly many dangers.
For the rest he played polo well, shot excellently at the traps, wasgood at tennis, golf, bridge. Naturally he belonged to the best clubsboth city and country. He sailed a yacht expertly, was a keen fisherman,hunted. Also he played poker a good deal and was noted for his accuratetaste in dress.
His mother firmly believed that he caused her much sorrow; his sisterslooked up to him with a little awe; his father down on him with afiercely tolerant contempt.
For Chuck had had his turn in the offices. His mind was a good one; hiseducation both formal and informal, had trained it fairly well; yet hecould not quite make good. Energetic, ambitious, keen young men,clambering upward from the ruck, gave him points at the game and thenbeat him. It was humiliating to the old man. He could not see theperfectly normal reason. These young men were striving keenly for whatthey had never had. Chuck was asked merely to add to what he already hadmore than enough of by means of a game that itself did not interest him.
Late one evening Chuck and some friends were dining at the Cliff House.They had been cruising up toward Tomales Bay, and had had themselves putashore here. No one knew of their whereabouts. Thus it was that Chuckfirst learned of his father's death from apoplexy in the scareheads ofan evening paper handed him by the majordomo. He read the articlethrough carefully, then went alone to the beach below. It had been theusual sensational article; and but two sentences clung to Chuck'smemory: "This fortunate young man's income will actually amount to aboutten dollars a minute. What a significance have now his days--andnights!"
He looked out to sea whence the waves, in ordered rank, cast themselveson the shore, seethed upward along the sands, poised, and receded. Histhoughts were many, but they always returned to the same point. Tendollars a minute--roughly speaking, s
even thousand a day! What would hedo with it? "What a significance have now his days--and nights!"
His best friend, Joe Merrill, came down the path to him, and stoodsilently by his side.
"I'm sorry about your governor, old man," he ventured; and then, after along time:
"You're the richest man in the West."
Chuck Gates arose. A wave larger than the rest thundered and ran hissingup to their feet.
"I wonder if the tide is coming in or going out," said Chuck, vaguely.
CLIMBING FOR GOATS
The Killer Page 24