XII
Quicksands
A short week after the Reclamation Service headquarters had been movedfrom the log-built offices on the government reservation to thecommodious and airy suite on the sixth floor of the Niquoia BuildingBrouillard received the summons which he had been expecting ever sincethe night of rioting and lawlessness which had marked the close of therailroad celebration.
"Mr. Cortwright would like to see you in his rooms at the Metropole,"was the message the office boy brought, and Brouillard closed his deskwith a snap and followed the boy to Bongras's.
The shrewd-eyed tyrant of Mirapolis was in his shirt-sleeves, busilydictating to two stenographers alternately, when the engineer enteredthe third room of the series; but the work was suspended and thestenographers were sent away as soon as Brouillard was announced.
"Well," was the millionaire's greeting, "you waited to be sent for,didn't you?"
"Why not?" said Brouillard shortly. "I have my work to do and you haveyours."
"And the two jobs are at opposite ends of the string, you'd say. Nevermind; we can't afford to throw each other down, and just now you cantell me a few things that I want to know. How is young Massingalegetting along?"
"As well as could be expected. Carruthers--the doctor--says he is out ofdanger."
"H'm. It has been handed in to me two or three times lately that the oldman is out gunning for Van Bruce or for me. Any truth in that?"
"I think not. Massingale is a Kentuckian, and I fancy he is quitecapable of potting either one or both of you for the attack on his son.But so far he has done nothing--has hardly left Steve's bedside."
Mr. J. Wesley Cortwright flung himself back in his luxurious swing chairand clasped his pudgy hands over the top of his head where thereddish-gray hair was thinning reluctantly.
"I've been putting it off to see which way the cat was going to jump,"he admitted. "If young Massingale is out of danger, it is time to getaction. What was the quarrel about, between him and Van Bruce?"
"Why do you ask me?" queried Brouillard.
"Because you are pretty thick with the Massingales, and you probablyknow," was the blunt accounting for the question.
"It occurs to me that your son would be a better source of information,"said Brouillard, still evading.
"Van Bruce has told me all he remembers--which isn't much, owing to hisown beastly condition at the time. He says young Massingale wasthreatening something--something in connection with the CoronidaGrant--and that he got the insane idea into his head that the only wayto stop the threat was by killing Massingale."
The sandy-gray eyes of the millionaire promoter were shifting while hespoke, but Brouillard fixed and held them before he said: "Why shouldMassingale threaten your son, Mr. Cortwright?"
"I don't know," denied the promoter, and he said it without flinching ahair's-breadth.
"Then I can tell you," was the equally steady rejoinder. "Some time agoyou lent David Massingale, through the bank, a pretty large sum of moneyfor development expenses on the 'Little Susan,' taking a mortgage oneverything in sight to cover the loan."
"I did."
"Massingale's obligation was in short-time, bankable paper, which heexpected to take up when the railroad should come in and give him amarket for the ore which he has already taken out of the mine."
"Yes."
"But when the railroad was an assured fact he learned that the Red Buttesmelters wouldn't take his ore, giving some technical reason which heknew to be a mere excuse."
Mr. Cortwright nodded. "So far you might be reading it out of a book."
"In consequence of these successive happenings, David Massingale findshimself in a fair way to become a broken man by the simplest ofcommercial processes. The bank holds his notes, which will presentlyhave to be paid. If he can't pay, the bank comes back on you as hisindorser, and you fall back on your mortgage and take the mine. Isn'tthat about the size of it?"
"It is exactly the size of it."
Brouillard laughed quietly. "And yet you said a moment ago that youdidn't know why young Massingale should threaten your son."
"And I don't know yet," blustered the magnate. "Is it my fault thatMassingale can't pay his debts?"
The engineer had stopped laughing when he said definitely and decidedly:"It is."
It was the promoter's turn to laugh.
"What sort of a bug have you got in your cosmos this morning,Brouillard? Why, man, you're crazy!"
Brouillard rose and relighted his cigar.
"If that is your last word, Mr. Cortwright, I may as well go back to myoffice. You don't need me."
"Oh, hold on; don't go off in a huff. You're too thin-skinned for anycommon kind of use. I was only trying you to see how far you'd carry it.Let it stand. Assume, for the sake of argument, that I _do_ want the'Little Susan' and that I've got a good friend or two in the Red Buttesmelters who will help me get it. Now, then, does that stand theband-wagon upon its wheels again?"
Brouillard's black eyes were snapping, but his voice was quite steadywhen he said: "Thank you; now we shall go on better. You want the'Little Susan,' and Massingale naturally thinks you're taking an unfairadvantage of him to get it. Quite as naturally he is going to makereprisals if he can. That brings us down to the mention of the CoronidaGrant and Stephen Massingale's threat--which your son can't remember."
"Right-o," said Mr. Cortwright, still with predetermined geniality."What was the threat?"
"I don't know, but the guessing list is open to everybody. There wasonce a grant of many square miles of mountain and desert somewhere inthis region made to one Don Estacio de Montarriba Coronida. Like thoseof most of the great Spanish land grants, the boundaries of this onewere loosely described and----"
Mr. Cortwright held up a fat hand.
"I know what you're going to say. But we went into all that atWashington before we ever invested a single dollar in this valley. Asyou may or may not know, the Reclamation Service bureau tried to chokeus off. But when it came down to brass tacks, they lacked a witness. Wemay be in the bed of your proposed lake, but we're safely on Coronidaland."
"So you say," said Brouillard quietly, "and on the strength of that youhave been guaranteeing titles."
"Oh, no," protested the millionaire. "We have merely referred purchasersto the record. There is a clause in every deed."
"But you have caused it to be believed that your title was good, thatthe government's claim to the land will not hold."
"It won't hold if we're on Coronida land."
"Ah! Just there is where Massingale comes in, I imagine. He has spenttwenty years or more in this region, and he knows every landmark in it.What if he should be able to put a lighted match to your pile ofkindling, Mr. Cortwright?"
The promoter pulled himself erect with a grip on either arm of thechair.
"Brouillard, do you know what you are talking about?" he demanded.
"No; it is only a guess. But as matters stand--with your son indictablefor an attempted murder ... if I were you, Mr. Cortwright, I believe I'dgive David Massingale a chance to pay those notes at the bank."
"And let him blackmail me? Not in a month of Sundays, Brouillard! Lethim sell his ore and pay the notes if he can. If he can't, I'll take themine."
"All right," said the visitor placably. "You asked, and I've answered.Now let's come to something more vital to both of us. There is a prettypersistent rumor on the street that you and your associates succeeded ingetting a resolution through both houses of Congress at the lastsession, appointing a committee to investigate this Coronida claimright here on the ground. Nobody seems to have any definite details, andit possibly hasn't occurred to any one that Congress hasn't been insession since Mirapolis was born. But that doesn't matter. The committeeis coming: you have engaged rooms for it here in Bongras's. You areexpecting the private-car special next week."
"Well?" said the magnate. "You're a pretty good kindergartner. But whatof it?"
"Oh, nothing. Only I think you might
have taken me in on the little sideplay. What if I had gone about town contradicting the rumor?"
"Why should you? It's true. The Congressional party will be here nextweek, and nobody has made any secret of it."
"Still, I might have been taken in," persisted Brouillard suavely."You'll surely want to give me my instructions a little beforehand,won't you? Just think how easily things might get tangled. Suppose Ishould say to somebody--to Garner, for example--that the town was hugelymistaken; that no Congressional committee had ever been appointed; thatthese gentlemen who are about to visit us are mere complaisant friendsof yours, coming as your guests, on a junketing trip at your expense.Wouldn't that be rather awkward?"
The mayor of Mirapolis brought his hands together, fist in palm, and fora flitting instant the young engineer saw in the face of the father thesame expression that he had seen in the face of the son when Van BruceCortwright was struggling for a second chance to kill a man.
"Damn you!" said the magnate savagely; "you always know too much! You'rebargaining with me!"
"Well, you have bargained with me, first, last, and all the time," wasthe cool retort. "On each occasion I have had my price, and you havepaid it. Now you are going to pay it again. Shall I go over to the_Spot-Light_ office and tell Harlan what I know?"
"You can't bluff me that way, Brouillard, and you ought to sense it bythis time. Do you suppose I don't know how you are fixed?--that you'vegot money--money that you used to say you owed somebody else--tied up inMirapolis investments?"
Brouillard rose and buttoned his coat.
"There is one weak link in your chain, Mr. Cortwright," he said evenly;"you don't know men. Put on your coat and come over to Harlan's officewith me. It will take just about two minutes to satisfy you that I'm notbluffing."
For a moment it appeared that the offer was to be accepted. But when hehad one arm in a coat sleeve, Brouillard's antagonist in the game ofhardihood changed his tactics.
"Forget it," he growled morosely. "What do you want this time?"
"I want you to send a wire to Red Butte telling the smelter people thatyou will be glad to have them handle the 'Little Susan' ore."
"And if I do?"
"If you do, two things otherwise due to happen adversely will go over toyour side of the market. I'll agree to keep out of the way of the shamWashington delegation, and I think I can promise that Harlan won't makea scare-head of the facts concerning the Coronida land titles."
Mr. Cortwright thrust the other arm into the remaining coat sleeve andscowled. But the rebound to the norm of brusque good-nature came almostimmediately.
"You are improving wonderfully, Brouillard, and that's no joke. I have alarge respect for a man who can outbid me in my own corner. You ought tobe in business--and you will be, some time. I'll send the wire, but Iwarn you in advance that I can't make the smelter people takeMassingale's ore if they don't want to. All I can do is to give the oldman a free field."
"That is all he will ask--all I'll ask, except one small personal favor:don't rub your masquerading Washington delegation into me too hard. Afine quality of non-interference is about all you are buying from me,and----"
The interruption came in the form of a tap at the door opening into thehotel corridor, and Brouillard, at a sign from the master of theprecincts, turned the knob. It was Miss Genevieve who entered, bringingthe sweet breeziness and audacity of youth and beauty and health withher.
"How fortunate!" she exclaimed, with the charming smile that accorded soperfectly with her fresh, early-morning radiance. And while the hand ofgreeting still lay in Brouillard's: "I have just been up to your office,and they told me they hadn't the smallest idea where you could be found.Are you going to be _very_ busy this afternoon?"
Brouillard gave the required denial, and she explained her quest of him.There was to be an auto party to the newly opened casino at the upperpower dam. Would he go, if he might have the post of honor behind thepilot-wheel of the new sixty-horse, seven-passenger flyer? _Please!_
Mr. Cortwright leaned heavily upon his desk while the asking andanswering went on, and the shrewd, gray eyes were busy. When hisdaughter went out and Brouillard was about to follow her, the genial webspinner stopped him.
"Tell me one thing, Brouillard: what is your stake in the Massingalegame? Are you a silent partner in the 'Little Susan'?"
"No."
"Then why are you so anxious to make old David a rich man at my expense?Are you going to marry the girl?"
The engineer did not resent the question as he would have resented it afew weeks earlier. Instead he smiled and said: "A little while ago, Mr.Cortwright, I told you that you didn't know men; now I'll add that youdon't know women."
"I know Gene," said the web spinner cryptically, and this was the wordthat Brouillard took with him when he went back to his offices in theNiquoia Building.
The City of Numbered Days Page 12