Loaded Dice Part 20

"I will be frank with you," she said, "it's so hard to know what to do. Jack was here to-night before you came, and he asked me the same question you're asking now. Jack's rough, and he isn't educated, but he's big and strong, and I know he thinks a lot of me, and, besides, he's really a man."

Gordon, with the skill not to provoke opposition, nodded a.s.sent.

"You're right," he said with conviction, "no one thinks more of Jack than I do. But, Ethel, without flattery, you're a woman in a thousand--in looks, in charm, in every way. And Jack--it isn't his fault--Jack is rough and uneducated, and it's too late to change him now. And, with all his good qualities, you'd never be happy with him all your life through. You couldn't, Ethel. Think what it would mean to live your life here on the mountain, no friends, no interests, nothing but life with Jack and the mine. No, we only live once, and it's our duty to make the most of it. And think of the other side of the picture. Wealth, social position, everything you could desire. I'm not a man of great wealth yet, but let me swing the mine the way I want to, and I'll be a millionaire ten times over. Think of it, Ethel.

Your city house, your country place, servants, horses, motors, around the world in a steam yacht; we'd get out of life what only a chosen few can get. Say you'll marry me, Ethel, and you'll never live to regret it, so help me G.o.d."

There was a silence even longer than before. Then the girl rose and began to pace the room with quick, nervous steps.

"Oh, I don't know," she cried, "you make it so hard. It's my whole life you're asking me to decide. And I believe you're honest, too, and sincere; but, I've known Jack all my life. Oh, I don't know what to do."

Gordon rose, and coming quickly across the room, took her in his arms.

She made no resistance, and very gently he stooped and kissed her.

"I know it's hard," he said. "It's hard to give up Jack. It's hard to leave the place that's always been your home; but, Ethel, it's the only way. I'm not going to urge my claims too far. After all's said, you're the one to decide. I'm going back now, and I'm coming here at ten o'clock to-morrow morning. Make your decision then, and whatever it is, in every way, Ethel, I'll always stand your friend. Good night, and I shall hope--and expect--to find you ready when I come."

He was gone, and the girl was left alone. Alone, to lie awake the long night through, thinking, planning, deciding and then changing her decision, in a tremor of doubt and uncertainty, until the morning sunlight, sweet and wholesome, forced its cheery way through the shutters of the little room.

For Jack Harrison, never did day seem so long. The hours dragged on leaden feet, even the minutes seemed mockingly to lengthen all through the dreary day. It was dusk when he started for the cabin, and as he neared it, absently he noticed that the light was not yet lit in the kitchen window. With a step so buoyant as to become almost a run, he thrust open the gate, and gained the porch. The door was shut, and the latch did not yield to his eager pressure. Then, suddenly coming to himself, he gave a gasp of fear, and half staggered back on the porch.

As he did so, his eye caught, pinned to the door, a square of white.

With trembling fingers he lit a match, tore open the letter, and read the few brief words it contained. Then, silent, as if mortally stricken, he staggered here and there, as if still blindly seeking, in the place she had loved so well, the girl he had loved--and lost.

On his knees he dropped, clasping the railing with his hands, and in dumb agony gazed out as if for help across the mighty silences of the darkening valley. The west wind, sweeping free, moaned through the tree tops below; dark clouds, driven low, one by one blotted out the light of stars; faintly, here and there, on the mountain side, gleamed the lights of other cabins, homes--such as the home he had some day meant to build. With a sudden uncontrollable gesture, he raised his eyes to the heavens, where, amid the flying cloud wrack, one star still faintly shone.

"Oh, G.o.d! Oh, G.o.d!" he cried. "And I loved her so."

Faster sped the hurrying clouds, louder moaned the freshening wind; even the single star no longer shone, and darkness, like a pall, settled down over Burnt Mountain.

CHAPTER XI

THE LAUNCHING OF THE KONAHa.s.sETT

The hands of the big clock in the "customers' room" at Gordon and Randall's pointed to five minutes of ten. Pervading the place was a general air of extreme tension, somehow suggesting that all present were about to start in a race of some kind, and were undergoing the agonies of the last few nerve-racking moments before the start. And this, indeed, in a sense was true. When the clock should strike ten, and the opening bell of the Exchange should be heard, a race of a kind began for all.

The two thin-faced, alert, nervous young men at the tickers, steadily calling the quotations, must keep pace with the whirring tape; the two boys standing in front of the big stock board, marking up the eighths and quarters, or indeed, the whole points, as the favorites receded or advanced, must make their nimble fingers fly; and the customers themselves, according to their several temperaments sitting at ease in the big arm-chairs or pacing nervously up and down the room, must keep close watch of their holdings; make up their minds, if winning, when to quit at the right time; if losing, whether to take their loss with a philosophical shrug of the shoulders, or whether to dig deeper into their pockets, make the depleted margin good, and desperately hold on for better things.

The day and hour marked the third month of the great copper boom, an "era of good-feeling" when bulls were rampant in every pasture, and bears had retreated so far into the woods that their distant growlings pa.s.sed all unnoticed and unheard; when every little lamb had his little day and on the strength of his paper profits bought an automobile for himself and a set of furs for his wife; when brokers were encouragingly urbane and polite and customers eager and enthusiastic in their pleasant and successful chase after the jingling dollars; that splendid time, in short, when anybody and everybody could make money, when there were all winners and no losers, when "getting rich quick" was so easy that one felt almost ashamed of his winnings, and thought with good-humored self-contempt of what he had been making in "straight" business, his year's earnings now in a week or two doubled or even trebled, and all without effort, all with scarcely the exertion even of lifting a finger. Prosperity, happiness, glorious country, beautiful world!

Among the other customers was little Mott-Smith, as usual, anxious, worried, hesitating between the conservative wish to make sure of what he had gained by following Gordon's lead, and the maddening desire to hold on and take his chances of seeing things mount higher and yet higher still. A week ago, on Gordon's word of advice, let fall after a game of bridge at the Federal, he had bought two hundred Arizona and Eureka at forty-seven; two days later a drop to forty-five had cost him a sleepless night and two restless, nervous days; then, in a forenoon, it had jumped to forty-nine, and thence had risen steadily on what was described in the learned language of the financial columns as "acc.u.mulative buying of the very highest cla.s.s, rumored to be that of prominent insiders who are in receipt of most gratifying news direct from the mine." In turn it had touched fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two and one-half, and the night before had closed strong at fifty-three bid, and no stock offered.

Thus Mott-Smith worried and planned and mentally bought and sold stocks right and left twenty times in two minutes. On the one hand, twelve hundred dollars in real money was for him a sum well worth having, and yet, in spite of that, he could not forget the tone of Gordon's voice as he had looked Mott-Smith squarely in the eye in answer to the latter's timid question. "Arizona and Eureka," he had said, "yes, indeed, it's a good mine; a very good mine," and then he had glanced over his shoulder and distinctly dropped his voice a trifle before he added: "and from what I hear, I should judge that before many days it's going considerably higher, too."

It had been on the strength of this opinion that he had bought his two hundred shares, for Gordon and Randall were already known as a house remarkably well posted on coppers, and Gordon's weekly market letter, well-written, entirely lacking in anything bordering on the tipster's objectionable art, well poised, and steadily but conservatively bullish, numbered among its readers thousands of Gordon's eager followers. And in this special case, Gordon, as usual, had been right.

But "considerably higher"; just what that meant was the hard point to determine. Was six points "considerably higher" or was it not?

While he stood pondering the problem, suddenly the bell struck.

Instantly the clerks at the tickers began to call, "Copper, one hundred fourteen and a quarter; U. P., one hundred thirty-seven; Reading, one hundred eight; Copper, one hundred fourteen and a half; Copper, one hundred fifteen;" the race was on.

From long experience, Mott-Smith knew the exact spot on the local board where he should look to find Arizona and Eureka. For some moments, however, he purposely avoided looking in that direction.

Supposing there should be bad news from the mine; a cave-in, a washout, a fire; supposing the whole market should suddenly break sharply on foreign war news or something of the sort--momentarily he felt a slight giddiness creep over him, and involuntarily he gave a little gasp as he sought to pull his unruly nerves together. Then, with lips tightly compressed, he glanced a third of the way down the list of local stocks. Opposite Arizona and Eureka was already posted a long row of figures, and even as he looked the boy was putting up others. Heavens! Mott-Smith hardly dared trust his eyes. Fifty-six and a half, seven, six and a half, seven, eight and a half, eight and a quarter, three-quarters, nine and a half, sixty, sixty-one--

A sudden rush of grat.i.tude and self-congratulation swept over him. Oh, if he had sold, he could never have forgiven himself. Twenty-eight hundred dollars--and he had thought twelve was good. Oh, what a splendid thing was life, after all. Twenty-eight hundred dollars--what a world of opportunity it was for men of foresight and ability and sound judgment; for men, in short, like Arthur Fitzhenry Mott-Smith.

Twenty-eight hundred dollars--could the whole city produce a man happier than he?

Meantime in their private consulting room Gordon and Randall sat planning the various details of the day's campaign. Randall, pulling out his watch, had just risen to take his departure for the customers'

room, when Gordon called him back.

"Oh, Bob," he cried genially, "just a minute, please. I forgot to say that I think we're ready now for the preliminary work on the Konaha.s.sett; getting the ground in shape, so to speak, for the circulars and advertis.e.m.e.nts that will come a little later on. If you can, I'd like you to start to get the tip in circulation to-day, and it seems to me I'd do it something like this. During the forenoon pick out six or eight men that you know trade with half-a-dozen different houses, and in the course of casual conversation just give it to them in the strictest confidence that I've got a mine about to be launched, which you understand, on the very best authority, is going to be, in the course of a year or two, one of the richest producers in the whole world--a genuine bonanza. Tell them of course not to mention it to a soul. Tell them that for a while yet there'll be nothing doing anyway; but you want them to have it in mind in case you shouldn't get another chance to speak to them about it before the stock is really listed.

Well, I needn't go into all the details with you, Bob. You know how to do it better than I do, by a long shot. You catch my idea, anyway.

Mystery; immense size; inconceivable richness; chance to make a barrel of money, either by out-and-out speculation or by buying the stock as a genuine investment. Savvy?"

Randall nodded. "Sure," he answered briefly, "I'll get you in right; you needn't worry a minute about that. Any men in particular you've got in mind?"

Gordon thought an instant. "Harry Atkinson, for one," he answered, "and Holliday, and Bancroft. Oh, and if Mott-Smith's around, be sure and see him anyway. He's the greatest he-gossip of the lot. Tell him to sell Arizona and Eureka, and then to wait for the word from me. And tell him it's my personal tip to a few old friends, and that it's given in absolute secrecy. Rub that in. If there were any doubt about his not spreading it, that'll clench it. He'll tell, all right. He's human. Absolute secrecy, remember. It's got to be kept quiet."

Randall, pausing on the threshold, smiled grimly. "d.i.c.k," he said, "your ability is only equalled by your sincerity, and--you're a d.a.m.ned good judge of human nature," and the door slammed to behind him before Gordon could frame a reply.

Ensuing events certainly seemed fully to bear out Randall's estimate of his partner's cleverness. Little Mott-Smith, indeed, after Randall's guarded talk with him in a quiet corner of the customers'

room, fairly grudged the time necessary for closing out his Arizona and Eureka, and bustled away from the office, almost bursting with the magnitude of his secret. In five different offices, before the closing bell rang, he spread the news of Gordon's glorious find, and left behind him a trail of eager speculators, each striving to solve the problem of how best to get in on the ground floor for the largest possible amount within his means, and each wondering what special strings might perchance be worked to get at Gordon himself, and thus to have the wonderful news really verified at first hand.

To cap the climax, Mott-Smith, later in the day, chanced to dine at the Travelers' with Holden, of the _Post_. Even with the oysters, Mott-Smith could not refrain from dropping a mysterious hint or two; with the arrival of the punch he was in full blast, and by the time the demi-ta.s.se was served Holden had at his command a very pretty little two-column "scoop." It appeared duly in next morning's _Post_; by afternoon all the other papers had copied it, and then the real rush to get at Gordon, or some one near him, began.

Gordon, of course, was immensely annoyed. Reluctantly after a day or two, he did in self-defense grant one interview, and that interview served to whet the popular appet.i.te almost beyond restraint It appeared that everything which had been said of the mine was true, only in reality far short of the whole truth. The samples Mr. Gordon showed the reporter were alive with the very richest copper. The stock would be listed in due time, probably, but for the present Mr. Gordon did not intend doing this, lest the excitement caused by the newspapers might change what was strictly an investment affair into a mere speculative venture.

Human nature being always much the same, and the best and the worst of us being alike ever tormented with the desire to attain that which we can not attain, and possess that which we can never possess, the name and fame of the Konaha.s.sett lost nothing in the few weeks' delay which followed. From time to time new strikes, of still greater richness than ever before, were duly made and recorded. And then, one fine morning, appeared the first of Gordon's famous public advertis.e.m.e.nts, modeled somewhat on the style of the pyrotechnic Lamson, with whom, some years previous, the idea had originated. With this difference, however, that the English of Gordon's advertis.e.m.e.nts was perfect, his reasoning clear, his statements terse and directly to the point. In one respect, on Doyle's advice, he did copy Lamson direct, and that was in the matter of advising that no one should buy on margin. As Doyle justly observed, not only was the moral effect of this advice excellent, but there was practical advantage to be gained as well, those who had intended buying on margin in the first place most certainly not being deterred by the advertis.e.m.e.nt from doing so, while on the other hand, many who had never dreamed of experimenting with this risky form of gambling, being told not to do so, and finding in addition that, if they did, they were bound to make four or five times as much--when Konaha.s.sett went up--would yield to temptation, and thus largely increase the amount of the stock subscribed.

For three days the advertis.e.m.e.nts were continued, and then at last the stock was in reality listed. Even Gordon, knowing as he did that he had picked the ideal moment for his venture, knowing as he did that the country was in the midst of tremendous prosperity and fairly on the upswing of a big bull market, knowing that money was still easy and speculation rampant, even Gordon was absolutely amazed at the public response. All day long the stock was bought in small lots, in huge blocks, bought outright, bought on the flimsiest imaginable margin, bought in every possible way that it could be bought, legitimately or otherwise; and with the ringing of the closing bell Konaha.s.sett preferred, with its par of twenty-five, closed at thirty-three and one-half, while Konaha.s.sett common, with its par at five, after the heaviest transactions ever recorded in any copper stock in one day's trading, closed triumphantly at nine and three-quarters. And Gordon and Doyle, dining together at the Federal, looked upon their work and saw that it was good.

CHAPTER XII

GORDON LISTENS TO GOOD ADVICE

Fast, true and strong the little black pacer came through the last quarter mile of the speedway. Gradually Vanulm, quietly soothing him with voice and rein, steadied him down to an ordinary road gait, and then, as they swung sharp to the left into the quiet of the old country road, with its crumbling stone walls, shaded on either side by the overhanging elms, the little black reluctantly slowed to a walk, and Vanulm, with a smile, relaxed his hold upon the reins, and leaned comfortably back against the buggy's cushioned seat.

Gordon drew a long breath of satisfaction. "He's all right," he said approvingly, "you've got hold of a great little horse, Herman, and you were mighty kind to give me a chance to see him step, too. Fresh air's been scarce with me, lately; your stopping at the office was a happy accident."

Vanulm's brow wrinkled quizzically. "It wasn't really an accident, d.i.c.k," he confessed, "it was only a subterfuge to get you off by yourself where you couldn't run away. You're so confoundedly busy that it was really the only way I could think of to get you where I'd have a fair chance to give you a good talking to."

Gordon gave him a quick glance. "Well," he answered good-humoredly, "they say you might as well kill a man as scare him to death. What's the trouble now?"

Vanulm looked as if he did not altogether relish his task. "Look here, d.i.c.k," he said at last, "I'm an older man than you are by twenty years, or I wouldn't be fool enough to try to give you advice. But here's one thing that's the trouble right away. You're driving yourself altogether too hard. Your business has increased enormously; you're fathering this Konaha.s.sett scheme; you've married a young and exceedingly attractive wife, and the success she's made socially demands at least a part of your time there; I keep reading of you making speeches in all sorts of places; they tell me you're beginning to dabble in politics; you're taking on a hundred and one new interests, d.i.c.k, and it's too much for any one man; you simply can't stand it, that's all; and I want you to promise me you'll begin to go light on some of these things; why not let up on this Konaha.s.sett business a little?"

Gordon laughed. "And you get me away from the office to tell me that,"