Otherwise Phyllis Part 43

"I suppose," said Fred deliberately, "that if you wanted to marry Phil Kirkwood yourself there would be no disloyalty to our family in that. It would be perfectly proper; quite the right thing."

"I didn't say I wanted to marry her," jerked Charles.

He was pacing the floor with bent head. His brother's equanimity irritated him and intensified his anger. He struck his hands together suddenly as though emphasizing a resolution, and arrested Fred, who had knocked the ashes from his pipe and was walking slowly toward the door.

"I say, Fred, I didn't mean to flare up that way, but all this Sycamore business has got on my nerves. Sit down a minute. Uncle Will's in a terrible funk. Plumb scared to death. And just between you and me he's got a right to be."

He crossed to the door, opened it and peered into the hall. Fred balanced himself on the footboard of the bed, and watched his brother expectantly. Earlier in the interview Charles had begun to say something as to their father's affairs, but had failed to reach the point, either by design or through the chance drift of their talk. Charles was deeply worried; that was clear; and Fred resolved to give him time to swing back to the original starting-point.

"I'm sorry if Uncle Will's in trouble," he remarked.

"It's the First National," Charles went on in an excited whisper. "The examiner made a bad report last month and the Comptroller sent a special agent out who's raised the devil--threatened to shut him up. That's bad enough. If old Kirkwood gets ugly about Sycamore, you can't tell what he may do. He's playing an awful deep, quiet game. The fact is he's got us all where he wants us. If he turned the screws right now we're pinched.

And here's something I didn't mean to tell you; but I've got to; and you've got to come in and help me. Father knew the Sycamore was over-bonded. The construction company was only a fake and charged about double a fair price for its work. Father only cashed part of the bonds he got on the construction deal and hid the rest; and when he died suddenly I had to think hard and act quick, for I saw the road was going to the bad, and that the people who had bought bonds in good faith would rise up and howl. When I took hold as administrator, I inventoried only the obvious stuff--that's why it looked so small. I meant to give you and Ethel your share when the danger was all over--didn't want to involve you; you see how it was. And now Kirkwood's trying to trace that stuff--about three hundred thousand--a hundred thousand apiece for you and Ethel and me. No; not a word till I get through," he whispered hoa.r.s.ely as Fred tried to break in. "They can send me up for that; juggling the inventory; but you see how we're all in the same boat. And what you can do to save me and the bank and father's good name is to go to Kirkwood--he thinks well of you and will believe you--and tell him you know positively that father never got any of the construction bonds.

You can be sure the construction company fellows got rid of theirs and took themselves off long ago. It was a fake company, anyhow. It's all in Kirkwood's hands; if you shut him off, Uncle Will can pull the bank through. And I'll give you your share of the bonds now."

The perspiration glistened on his forehead; he ran his hands through his hair nervously. Misreading the look in Fred's face for incredulity, he pointed to the closet door.

"I've got the bonds in my suit-case; I was afraid Kirkwood might find a way of getting into my safety box at Indianapolis. He's no end smart, that fellow. And I figure that if the road goes into a receivership the bonds will pay sixty anyhow. You see where that puts you--no more of this farmer rot. You'd be well fixed. And it will be easy for you to satisfy Kirkwood. Just the right word and he will pull his probe out of the administratorship, and get a receiver who will represent us and give us the proceeds when the trouble's all over. d.a.m.n it! Don't look at me that way! Don't you see that I've been taking big chances in hiding that stuff, just for you and Ethel! I'm going crazy with the responsibility of all this, and now you've got to help me out. And if Kirkwood gets to the grand jury with that administration business, you see where it puts us--what it means to you and Ethel, the disgrace of it. Don't forget that father took those bonds--his share of Sycamore swag--and left it up to me to defend his good name and divide the proceeds when it was safe.

Don't stand there like a dead man! Say something, can't you!"

It had slowly dawned upon Fred that he was listening to an appeal for mercy, a cry for help from this jaunty, c.o.c.ksure brother. It was a miserable mess; beyond doubt much of what he had heard in the stuffy hotel room was true. It would not be Charles's way to incriminate himself so far unless driven to it by direst necessity. It was clear that he was alarmed for his personal safety. Fred did not doubt that Charles had attempted to swindle him; had in fact gone the full length of doing so. His simple, direct nature was awed by a confession that combined so many twists and turns, so many oblique lines and loops and circles. He sank into a creaky rocker, and rapped the arm idly with his pipe-bowl, conscious that Charles hovered over him as though fearful that he might escape.

"Come back to life, can't you! It's not much I'm asking of you; it won't cost you anything to help tide this thing over with Kirkwood. And you get your share right now--to-night. Why--" His lip curled with scornful depreciation as he began again to minimize the importance of the transaction.

Fred shook himself impatiently.

"Please don't! Don't go over that story again or I may do something ugly. Sit down over there in that chair."

He bent forward, his elbows on his knees and gesticulated with the pipe, speaking slowly.

"Let's shake the chaff out and see what's left of all this. You stole my share of those bonds, and now that you're in danger of getting caught you want me to help you hide the boodle. You flatter me with the idea that my reputation is so much better than yours that I'm in a position to keep you out of jail. And for a little thing like that you're willing to give me my honest share of a crooked deal! You're a wonder, Charlie!

It must have tickled you to death to see me turning my poor old farm over to Kirkwood to uphold the family honor while you were chasing over the country with the real stuff packed away with your pajamas. It's picturesque, I must say!"

His eyes rested upon his brother's face lingeringly, but his tone and manner were indulgent, as though he were an older brother who had caught a younger one in a misdemeanor.

"Cut that out! I've told you the whole truth. If you won't help, all right."

"No, it isn't all right. There's no all right about any of this. It's rotten clean through."

He frowned with the stress of his thought, then rose, and began b.u.t.toning his coat.

"Well?" Charles questioned harshly, impatient for his brother's decision.

"I won't do it. I won't have anything to do with your scheme. After the trouble you've taken to steal those bonds it would be a shame to take any of them away from you. I advise you to carry them back to Indianapolis and turn them over to Kirkwood. He's not half the cold-blooded scoundrel you seem to think. You'd make a big hit with him."

"And after I've told you everything--after I've shown you that I was only covering up father's share in that construction business, for your sake, and our sister's, that's all you've got to say about it!"

"Every word!"

A malevolent grin crossed the older man's face. He was white with pa.s.sion.

"You'll pay for this; I'll land one on you for this that will hurt."

He waited expectantly for Fred to demand the nature of this vengeance; his rage cried for the satisfaction of seeing him flinch at the blow.

Fred settled his cap on his head and walked stolidly toward the door.

Charles caught him by the shoulder and flung him round.

"You think you can drop me like that! Not by a d.a.m.ned sight you can't!

You think you stand pretty close to the Montgomerys, don't you?--the only real good Holton in the bunch--but I'll give you a jar. You imagine you're going to marry Phil, don't you?--but I'll show you a thing or two. I'm going to marry Phil myself; it's all practically understood."

"That's all right, too, Charlie," replied Fred calmly. "The ambition does you proud. I suppose when you tell Kirkwood you're engaged to his daughter he will call off the dogs."

"Oh, they're not so high and mighty! Now that Phil's mother has brought her smirched reputation back here, Phil will be glad to marry and get out."

"Just for old time's sake, Charlie, I advise you not to play that card."

"You're too late with your advice. That day Phil and I climbed The Cliffs she promised to marry me. You saw us up there; that was before her mother came back. But as far as her mother's concerned, I'll stand for her. A woman that's been through the divorce mill twice has got to be humble. You can be dead sure she would never have shown up here if it hadn't been for old Amzi's ducats. Women like that go where the money comes easiest."

Fred listened with a kind of bewildered intensity. That a man should speak thus of the mother of a girl whom he meant to marry touched the uttermost depths of vulgarity. Little as he had in common with his brother, he had never believed him capable of anything so base. Yet much as he distrusted him, he half-believed the story of the engagement.

There must be some basis for his declaration, and it would be quite like Charles to hasten matters with a view to blocking Kirkwood's investigations of the Holton estate. Jealousy and anger surged in his heart. The air of the room stifled him.

"You've lost your mind; that's the only way I can explain you. If you were quite sane, you wouldn't forget the part our father's brother played in Phil's mother's affairs."

"Don't take that tragic tone with me; Uncle Jack's told me all about that woman. She's the very devil. She led him a dog's life until he chucked her."

Fred nodded, slowly drawing on his gloves, whose shabbiness affected his brother disagreeably. Charles had expected to score heavily with his declaration that Phil had promised to marry him; but this had apparently been a wasted shot. He wondered whether he had misread the symptoms that had seemed to indicate Fred's interest in that quarter.

Fred's composure was irritating. Charles was never sure what impression he made on this quiet brother, whose very unresponsiveness had driven him to disclosures he had not meant to make. He had managed the interview clumsily; he was not up to the mark, or he would not have made so many false starts in this talk, on whose results he had counted much.

His fingers touched his scarfpin and tie nervously.

"Now that you know the whole business I needn't ask you to keep your mouth shut. But I suppose with your delicate sense of honor I'm safe."

"You are quite safe, Charlie. I'd repeat my advice if I thought it would do any good. I'd turn that stuff over to Kirkwood as quickly as I could."

He had opened the door and started down the hall when Charles, his apprehensions aroused as he saw his brother's determined stride toward the stairs, sprang after him.

"What are you up to; where are you going?" he demanded excitedly.

"Stop 7. Good-night!"

CHAPTER XXI

PHIL'S FISTS