Out of the Ashes. Ethel Watts Mumford Grant
mentioned, which are now about to pass into the possession of your emissaries if all goes well. Of course, if these letters were placed in the hands of those most interested it would cause you to make your purchase at a vastly higher figure; it might prevent the transaction altogether. But far more important than that, they conclusively prove that your company is a monopoly framed in the restraint of trade--proof that will be a body blow to your defense if the threatened action of the federal authorities takes place.
"Of course," continued Mrs. Marteen, as Gard uttered a suppressed oath, "you couldn't foresee a year ago what future conditions would make the writing of those letters a very dangerous thing; otherwise you would have conducted your business by word of mouth. Believe me, I do not underrate your genius."
He laid his hands roughly upon the photographs. "I have a mind to have you arrested this instant," he snarled.
"But you won't," she added--"not while you don't know where the originals are. It means too much to you. The slightest menacing move toward me would be fatal to your interests. I don't wish you any harm, Mr. Gard; I simply want money."
In spite of his perturbation, amazement held him silent. If a shining angel with harp and halo had confronted him with a proposition to rob a church, the situation could not have astonished him more. She gave him time to recover.
"Of course you must readjust your concepts, particularly as to me. You thought me a rich woman--well, I'm not. I've about twenty-five thousand dollars left, and a few--resources. My expenses this season will be unusually heavy."
"Why this season?" He asked the question to gain time. He was thinking hard.
"My daughter Dorothy makes her début, as perhaps you may have heard."
Gard gave another gasp. Here was a mother blackmailing the Gibraltar of finance for her little girl's coming-out party. Suddenly, quite as unexpectedly to himself as to his hearer, he burst into a peal of laughter.
"I see--I see. 'The time has come to talk of many things.'"
She met his mood. "Well, not so much time. You see, not all kings are cabbage heads--and while pigs may not have wings, riches have."
"You are versatile, Mrs. Marteen. I confess this whole interview has an 'Alice in Wonderland' quality." He was regaining his composure. "But I see you want to get down to figures. May I inquire your price?"
"Fifty thousand dollars." There was finality in her tone.
"And how soon?"
"Within the next week. You know this is a crisis in this affair--I waited for it."
"Indeed! You seem to have singular foresight."
She nodded gravely. "Yes, and unusual means of obtaining information, as it is needless for me to inform you. I am, I think, making you a very reasonable offer, Mr. Gard. You would have paid twice as much for the Vandyke."
"And how do you propose, Mrs. Marteen, to effect this little business deal without compromising either of us?" His tone was half banter, but her reply was to the point.
"I will place my twenty-five thousand with your firm, with the understanding that you are to invest for me, in any deal you happen to be interested in--Texas, for instance. It wouldn't be surprising if my money should treble, would it? In fact, there is every reason to expect it--is there not? If all I own is invested in these securities, I would not desire them to decline, would I? I merely suggest this method," she continued, with a shrug as if to deprecate its lack of originality, "because it would be a transaction by no means unusual to you, and would attract no attention."
He looked at her grimly. "You think so?" Let me hear how you intend to carry out the rest of the transaction--the delivery of the autographs in question."
"To begin with, I will place in your hands the plates--all the photographs."
"How can I be sure?" he demanded.
"You can't, of course; but you will have to accept my assurance that I am honest. I promise to fulfill my part of the bargain--literally to the letter. You may verify and find that the series is complete. Your attorneys, to whom you wrote these, will doubtless tell you that they personally destroyed these documents, but they doubtless have a record of the dates of letters received at this time. You can compare; they are all there; I hold out nothing."
"But if they say they have destroyed the letters--what in the name of--"
"Oh, no; they destroyed your communications perhaps, after 'contents noted.' But they never had your letters, for the simple reason that they never received them. Very excellent copies they were--most excellent."
Mr. Marcus Gard was experiencing more sensations during his chat with Mrs. Marteen than had fallen to his lot for many a long day. His tremendous power had long made his position so secure that he had met extraordinary situations with the calm of one who controls them. He had startled and held others spellbound by his own infinite foresight, resource and energy. The situation was reversed. He gazed fascinated in the fine blue eyes of another and more ruthless general.
"My dear madam, do you mean to infer that this coup of yours was planned and executed a year ago, when I, even I," and he thumped his deep chest, "had no idea what these letters might come to mean? Do you mean to tell me that?"
"Yes"--and she smiled at his evident reluctance to believe--"yes, exactly. You see, I saw what was coming--I knew the trend. I have friends at court--the Supreme Court, it happens--and I was certain that the 'little cloud no larger than a man's hand' might very well prove to contain the whirlwind; so--well, there was just a flip of accident that makes the present situation possible. But the rest was designed, I regret to admit--cold-blooded design on my part."
"With this end in view?" He tapped the photographs strewn upon his desk.
"With this end in view," she confessed.
He was silent a moment, lost in thought; then he turned upon her suddenly.
"Mind, I haven't acceded to your demands," he shouted.
"Is the interview at an end?" she asked, rising and adjusting the furs about her throat. "If so, I must tell you the papers are in the hands of persons who would be very much interested in their contents. If they don't see me--hearing from me won't do, you understand, for a situation is conceivable, of course, when I might be coerced into sending a message or telephoning one--if they don't see me personally, the packet will be opened--and eventually, after the Texas Purchase is adjusted, they will find their way into the possession of the District Attorney. I have taken every possible precaution."
"I don't doubt that in the least, madam--confound it, I don't! Now when will you put the series, lock, stock and barrel, into my hands?"
"When you've done that little turn for me in the market, Mr. Gard. You may trust me."
"On the word--of a débutante?" he demanded, with a snap of his square jaws.
For the first time she flushed, the color mantling to her temples; she was a very handsome woman.
"On the word of a débutante," she answered, and her voice was steady.
"Well, then"--he slapped the table with his open hand--"if you'll send me, to the office, what you want to invest, I'll give orders that I will personally direct that account."
"Thank you so much," she murmured, rising.
"Don't go!" he exclaimed, his request a command. "I want to talk with you. Don't you know you're the first person, man or woman, who has held me up--me, Marcus Gard! I don't see how you had the nerve. I don't see how you had the idea." He changed his bullying tone suddenly. "I wish--I wish you'd talk to me. I'm as curious as any woman."
Mrs. Martin Marteen moved toward the door.
"I'm selling you your autographs--not my autobiography. I'm so glad to have seen you. Good afternoon, Mr. Gard."
She was gone, and the Great Man had