John Marsh's Millions Part 10

The door opened and Mrs. Parkes entered, carrying a tray with tea.

"Here we are--here we are," she said cheerily, "a fresh cup of tea--I opened a new packet of Lipton on purpose. Say, that Lipton makes elegant tea! Oh, I've forgotten the toast. Harry, run down and get it, there's a dear boy." Turning to Paula, she added: "He is a dear boy, isn't he?"

"Just like his father, I think you once told me," rejoined Paula, with a covert smile.

"Did I? Well, he is in some ways--and in some ways he isn't."

"Mother, please!" exclaimed Harry. "I'm afraid I'm like you, Miss Paula--I don't like to be reminded of my relations-- I'll get the toast, mother."

He left the room to go foraging for toast, while Mrs. Parkes began pouring out tea.

"Did the dear boy tell you?" she asked. "He said he was going to apologize but----"

"Will you kindly tell me what the dear boy did that needs so much apology?" said Paula.

"He's so impulsive," said Mrs. Parkes, with a sigh. "To that extent he is like his father--but--he feels as I do that until your lawsuit is settled one way or the other, he should not have asked you to be his wife. One lump or two?"

Paula opened wide her eyes.

"Be his wife?" she exclaimed. "One lump? No, two. Did he ask me to marry him?"

"Yes. Didn't he? He said he did----"

"So that's what it was--great Heavens! I've been proposed to--and I didn't know it----"

"Of course, he has my consent," went on Mrs Parkes, in a patronizing tone.

"Of course, I mean--thank you--that's rather nice," rejoined Paula, trying to conceal a laugh. "You're awfully good--but--this is nice tea, isn't it?"

"Why, you haven't tasted it yet," protested the landlady.

"No--I'm just going to. The aroma--is----" Gulping the tea down she scalded herself. "It's hot, isn't it?"

The door reopened and Harry reappeared with the toast.

"Mr. Ricaby has just come in," he blurted out. "He wants to see you at once--says it is most important. I told him to come right up. Why, Miss Marsh, what's the matter----?"

Paula had turned pale. The teacup almost fell from her trembling hand.

Perhaps her attorney had brought the message which she had been so anxiously expecting. Had he brought good news?

"You look frightened to death, my dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Parkes.

Paula rose.

"May I ask you to excuse me?" she said. "Mr. Ricaby wants to see me on most important business connected with my lawsuit. I would like to see him alone."

"Certainly, my dear," said Mrs. Parkes, rising. "We'll take the tea in my room. Come, Harry, help me with the tray."

The young man frowned disapproval at this most untimely interruption, but there was no help for it. With a glance at Paula that received no response, he rebelliously picked up the tray and followed his mother out.

CHAPTER VIII.

Mr. Ricaby entered the room hurriedly. His face was serious and his manner agitated. Paula advanced eagerly to meet him.

"Bad news!" he began. "That which I feared has happened."

The young girl turned pale.

"You mean that we have lost?"

The lawyer sank wearily into a chair, and in a tone of utter discouragement went on:

"Yes--we've lost! I did all I could. The court allows that you were born in wedlock--oh, yes--that much they admit. Also that your father was not insane when he made his will--very kind of them--and that you, his daughter, may inherit his estates--but----"

"But what?" she demanded anxiously.

The lawyer looked at her in silence. He hesitated to let her know the worst all at once. Slowly he said:

"Your uncle--is appointed your guardian and custodian during your minority, and that means he will have complete control of you--and of your money----"

"My uncle?" she cried in dismay. "Oh, Mr. Ricaby--couldn't you have prevented that?"

He shook his head. Then, jumping to his feet, and pacing the floor nervously, he exclaimed angrily:

"How can one man cope with a gang of crooks or break up a well-organized System? Bascom Cooley, your uncle's lawyer, is a prominent member of the inner political ring which controls everything. He presented his pet.i.tion to a judge who received his appointment from this very organization. It was a foregone conclusion what the outcome would be.

Now we're no better off than before. The granting of the pet.i.tion will give your uncle complete control of your fortune."

Paula looked at him blankly. This was too much. Her patience was almost exhausted. She had borne everything patiently up to now, but this new insult went too far. Tears started to her eyes, and, stamping her foot angrily, she cried:

"He shan't have my father's money to squander how and on whom he pleases! On that I'm determined. I'll give it away-- I'll-- Oh! surely something can be done!"

Mr. Ricaby shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm afraid not," he answered. "Your uncle is in the hands of an unscrupulous gang. He has spent money like water to break the will. His lawyers resorted to every questionable device under a loosely constructed legal jurisprudence. Where did the money come from? Your uncle didn't have it. His marriage to Mrs. Chase--an extravagant widow with an extravagant son--used up all the money he had. This is Cooley's venture--and Cooley never goes into anything unless he's sure of results."

"And they have won!" she exclaimed.

The lawyer nodded.

"They have absolute control of you--and your money----"

"Can't anything be done?" cried the young girl, wringing her hands in despair. "Can't you do something? Surely I have some rights. Can't you try?--can't you?"

The lawyer was silent for a moment. Then he said thoughtfully: