The Carleton Case Part 10

"Yes, yes, I understand your feeling exactly," he said, "and your ambition is a most worthy one. I'm delighted to hear about the book, and if you will allow me to do so, I should be very happy to try to help a little. There are one or two ways that occur to me off-hand--understand me, of course,--ways perfectly legitimate and businesslike in every particular, in which I think a word from me with Small and White might at least do no harm. Won't you try to get me a list of the men who do their reading for them? We'll leave no stone unturned that properly may be turned to give your effort a fair show. Rose's happiness is my happiness, and to see you in a position when you may rightfully pay your addresses to her--that I most earnestly desire. And in the meantime, you must come out to The Birches--let me see--come out to-morrow night, won't you, and dine with us? Jack's coming, and another man, I think. I shall be delighted to have you join us, and I think, after what you have told me, I may safely answer for Rose."

He rose as he finished speaking, extending his hand in farewell.

Vaughan, rising also, could only stammer his thanks. "You're too kind, altogether, Mr. Carleton," he managed to say. "I know how any word from you would meet with the most respectful consideration from Small and White. It would help immensely. And as for to-morrow night, nothing could please me more. And how is Jack? I haven't seen him since he got back from the West."

"Jack is greatly improved, I think," Henry Carleton answered, as it seemed to Vaughan, a trifle shortly, "however, you'll see him to-morrow night, and can judge for yourself."

Vaughan nodded. "I'm glad to hear it," he said. "I got the impression from his letters that he was doing far better in every way, and I'm awfully glad if it's so. Well, I must go, Mr. Carleton. You've been very kind to take everything the way you have. I know, of course, in one way, at least, what a disappointment this must be for you. I don't care such a lot myself. Family trees and all that never meant such a great deal to me, and money bags even less, but for Rose's sake, why, I wish I were the wealthiest man in the world, and the most aristocratic; she ought to have everything that a girl can have. So you're awfully good not to make a row."

Again Henry Carleton smiled. "Nonsense," he said heartily, "those things make no difference with me, either. You've chosen a great career, and all we must do now is to make success a.s.sured, so that you can come to me as I know you want to come, saying, 'Mr. Carleton, I'm earning a fair living; I can keep your daughter from want; I wish to marry her.' That's the way you'll be coming some day, and you'll find no one more ready to congratulate you than I. Good-by again; good-by."

As Vaughan left the office, Carleton slowly reseated himself. "Strange,"

he murmured, "a prospective son-in-law in young Vaughan, and I never even dreamed of it. Very prospective, too; that's one comfort; and he seems actually to believe he may succeed in a literary career. Odd, what a time youth is for such dreams. He seems rather an inoffensive young man, at least; plastic, I should imagine, and rather easy to influence, if one only goes about it in the right way. That, I judge, is his weak point; that, and too great a tendency to confide in others. Due, I suppose, to the lack of a sound business training." He sat silently for some moments, then repeated thoughtfully, "The lack of a sound business training," and reached for the telephone. And then, a moment later, "Is Mr. c.u.mmings in? Oh, it's you, is it, Jim? Want to run over for a moment? Important? Yes, I should call it so. Thank you. Good-by," and restoring the receiver to its hook, he gave himself up to earnest thought.

CHAPTER X

THE BIRCHES AGAIN

"The ancient grudge I bear him."

_Shakespeare._

Opposite the gateway of the Eversley train, the three men stood grouped together, with growing impatience awaiting Jack Carleton's arrival. The gilded hands of the big clock, embedded in the solid masonry of the station wall, now pointed to three minutes of five; the Eversley "flyer"

left at five precisely; and the long train was filling more rapidly each instant. Henry Carleton's tone plainly enough showed his displeasure.

"Whatever else it may have done for him," he observed, "I can't see that a residence in Montana has improved Jack's habits of punctuality.

Perhaps, Vaughan, you wouldn't mind waiting here for him and letting us go ahead and make sure of getting seats. What do you say, c.u.mmings?"

c.u.mmings nodded with alacrity. He was a man between thirty and thirty-five, tall and heavily built. His face, while rather of the bulldog type, yet to the eye of the careful observer seemed to disclose a certain weakness under the outward show of strength. His complexion was of a vivid red, plentifully ornamented with those souvenirs which come at length as badges of distinction to those who have had the perseverance to drink hard and steadily over a long enough term of years. His hair was very black and very curly; his tie perfectly matched his complexion; and his clothes, though of excellent make and cut, yet seemed a little obtrusive as well, as if the effort at gentility had been somehow overdone. Possibly several small trifles in his apparel--the conspicuously high polish on his shoes, the violet-bordered corner of the immaculate handkerchief, just visible above the breast pocket of his coat, the pair of very new tan gloves that he carried in his left hand--all proclaimed something of the inner man; a man not lacking in a certain force and aggressiveness, even in a kind of bl.u.s.tering self-a.s.sertion and desire for recognition, yet one who still realized with vague discomfort, that there was something wrong about him. Jim c.u.mmings was far from being a fool. He was well-versed in the ways of the city; had "been around," had "seen life;" was altogether a pretty shrewd and capable young man. And yet--spite of all--there was still a mysterious something somewhere lacking. To save his soul, he could not have told what it was. Perhaps Henry Carleton could.

"What do I say?" he echoed. "Sure, Mr. Carleton; suit me fine. Just as cheap to sit down as to stand, you know. Sure, let's get along."

In thus voicing his delight, it chanced that he spoke the truth, as sometimes, indeed, he was wont to do. Merely to be seen alone with Henry Carleton, in what would doubtless have been his phrase, "meant a lot" to him. And to have an hour's ride with this versatile man of affairs, who had made a great name for himself in "straight" business, in the stock market, and in politics; who was possessed of "inside information"; who, if he chose, could give a friend a "straight tip"; and who had now been kind enough again to ask him out to spend the night, as on two or three memorable occasions he had done before; why, this was a chance that might well "mean a lot" to him in more senses than one.

Arthur Vaughan, no great admirer of c.u.mmings, appeared, as indeed he was, equally well pleased at Henry Carleton's words. "Yes, indeed," he a.s.sented cordially, "don't run the risk of missing a seat, Mr. Carleton.

I remember Jack's habits of old. You go right along, and I'll wait here for him."

Forthwith the two men took their departure, and Vaughan, waiting until only a scant half minute remained, was just on the point of leaving his post, when he espied Carleton threading his way hastily through the crowd. With only the briefest of greetings, they swung aboard the rear car, by good fortune found the one remaining vacant seat, and then Vaughan turned and slowly surveyed his friend from head to foot. At once he gave a quick smile of satisfaction. "Well, Jack," he said, "you are looking fit. I don't think you ever looked better in your life."

"Oh, pretty fair, thanks," Carleton answered, but his appearance, indeed, far more than bore out his words. He had regained and increased the physical vigor of his college days. He was broader, thicker, more solidly built, with an impression of reserve strength which he had lacked before. Nor did the change stop there. In face and feature, in his manner, in his whole bearing, there had come a change, and a change, too, in every way for the better. In his expression, the old uncertainty of purpose had given place to a look of determined resolve; in his manner there was a new alertness, a new interest; from his eyes and mouth a certain indescribable something had vanished, leaving them pleasantly frank and wholesome.

With a pleased laugh, Vaughan looked down at his friend's big brown hand, and placed his own, white and slender, beside it. "I guess," he said, "if it came to a fight, Jack, you could probably manage to lick me."

Carleton smiled, and with equal interest returned Vaughan's gaze. To him, Vaughan appeared scarcely to have changed at all. About him there was something of the man who is given to habitual overwork, yet otherwise, in his rather delicate way, he looked healthy and vigorous, and his face itself was still as pleasant and as kindly as of old.

Carleton shook his head. "I don't think there will be any fight, Arthur," he said, "my fighting days are over. I've learned that much since I went away. I've come to believe that they don't pay--fights of any kind."

Vaughan nodded, quick to take his meaning. "Good," he answered, "I'm mighty glad to hear it, Jack."

Carleton's glance had been roaming up and down the aisle. "By the way,"

he said, "where's the rest of our merry party? Where's my respected uncle? And wasn't there somebody else he was going to bring out with him?"

Vaughan's eyes searched the car in vain. "I guess Mr. Carleton's up ahead," he returned, "probably in the smoker with c.u.mmings."

Jack Carleton frowned. "c.u.mmings?" he queried, "which c.u.mmings? Jim?"

"Yes, Jim," Vaughan a.s.sented, "why? Know him?"

Carleton nodded. "Yes, I know him, all right." From his tone it would have been possible to draw the inference that his opinion of c.u.mmings was scarcely favorable. But when, after a pause, he turned again to his friend, it was not of c.u.mmings, but of Henry Carleton that he spoke.

"And how's Henry been standing it?" he asked. "I've hardly heard anything, you see, for practically three years now. I'm away behind the times."

"Why," Vaughan answered, "he's a bigger man than ever, Jack. I guess I'm pretty well posted on him. Being on the paper, you know, you pick up a lot. He's a power on the Street now, and he's been making big strides in politics, besides. Some folks think he's right in line for the vacancy in the United States senatorship. And I'm not sure but what it's so, too. Then he's doing more for charity now than he used to. He gave five thousand at one crack the other day to something or other--a musical conservatory, I think it was. And he does a lot here at Eversley. The people out this way think he's just about right. Gave a thousand last month to the Eversley library, they say. Oh, I tell you it's good to see a man on the crest of the wave who still has an eye for the poor devils down in the hollow;" he paused for a moment, then added, with a smile, "of whom I have the honor to be one, Jack. You know I haven't made more than a million out of reporting. It's funny, but journalists don't seem to get appreciated in the salary line. But then, I oughtn't to complain. I've made a living, and kept out of debt, and if I hadn't had the folks down home to look after, I might have had a little put by, too. I'm not discouraged, either. I still consider it a privilege to be alive, and not to be kicked.

"But I was going to tell you about Mr. Carleton, and what he's going to do for me. I've written a novel that I'm trying to get published, and he's going to help me. I don't mean, of course, that such things don't go strictly on their merits, but still, even then, a friend at court doesn't do any harm. I've seen a lot of it, or I wouldn't talk that way.

There's an inside story, I've come to believe, and an inside track, in everything, even in art, where of all places there shouldn't be. Not always, of course, but, I believe, oftener than you'd think. And Mr.

Carleton's surprisingly well known, everywhere. I've been amazed at it.

I can't for the life of me see how he manages to get the time for all his different interests, but he does it somehow, and what's more remarkable still, he contrives to do everything well. His last bit of literary criticism in _Cosmopolis_ was really excellently done. It's been well spoken of everywhere. So now that he's going to turn to and help, I'm immensely encouraged."

For a moment or two Carleton sat silent, as if perplexed. Then, "But why on earth," he asked, "is Henry taking all this sudden interest in _you_?"

With a laugh of enjoyment, Vaughan leaned forward. "I knew you'd ask that, Jack," he said triumphantly. "That's what I was leading up to.

He's interested in me because--there's a very good chance that some day he's going to have the delightful pleasure of welcoming me as his son-in-law."

For an instant Carleton stared at him; then puckered his lips in a whistle of amazement. "The devil you say," he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, and then, after a moment, as if he could think of nothing that would better do justice to the situation, he repeated, with even greater emphasis, "The _devil_ you say."

Vaughan sat silently enjoying his surprise; then, as his friend did not speak again, he said, a little anxiously, "I hope you're pleased, Jack."

Carleton recovered a little from his astonishment. The grip he gave Vaughan's hand was sufficient answer, even before he found his tongue.

"Pleased," he echoed, "of course I am. I couldn't be more so. You know that without my saying it. But more than surprised, Arthur. I didn't know you were even interested in that direction. I can't realize it yet.

Rose! Why, she hadn't put away her dolls when I left home. But three years. Let's see. Thirteen--fourteen--seventeen--that's right, she's almost eighteen, now. A child and a woman--I suppose that's the size of it. Well, well, Arthur, this is fine. And she's a splendid little girl, too. You're a lucky man. Any idea when you'll be married?"

Vaughan shook his head. "No, indeed," he answered, "I only wish I had.

You see it's just as I told you. I'm a poor man, and I've got to make good first, before I can decently ask her to leave a home like the one she's got now. Mr. Carleton put all that part of it to me plainly enough yesterday. Plainly enough, and fairly enough, too. I have to admit that.

But I can't help wishing, just the same, for once in my life, that I did have a little money to fall back on, or that my prospects were a little brighter. However, I surely can't complain; and now, Jack, it's your turn. How about yourself, and how about the ranching? Is it all you thought it would be?"

But Carleton did not seem disposed to talk of himself. "Oh, yes," he answered absently, "all that, and more. It's the greatest ever--" then, breaking off abruptly, he asked, "Do you know, Arthur, when Colonel Graham's expected back from England?"

Vaughan looked at him with a smile. "_Colonel_ Graham?" he said, "did you say _Colonel_, Jack?"

Carleton nodded. "That's what I said," he answered, "Colonel Graham. You know I used to be pretty good friends with him once on a time."

Vaughan's smile broadened. "Yes, I know," he answered dryly, "and you used to be _very_ good friends with some one else. Are you sure it isn't Marjory you mean, Jack, and not the colonel?"

At last Carleton smiled too. "Well," he returned, "I won't argue about it. You can put it that way if you like. When do they get back?"

"Three months, I believe," answered Vaughan, "I think that was what Rose said." He paused, then added with sympathy, "Sounds like a long time, too, I'll bet."

Carleton made no answer. Slackening speed, the train came to a halt, and rising, they filed down the aisle, and out on the Eversley platform, to find Henry Carleton and c.u.mmings awaiting them. Somewhat perfunctorily Jack Carleton shook hands with c.u.mmings; then turned to his uncle. "Wait for me just a minute," he said, "I've got a bag here somewhere," and he strode off into the station, while the others turned the corner, and took their places in Carleton's waiting motor, c.u.mmings and Vaughan ushered by their host into the tonneau, while he himself took his seat in front with the chauffeur, a short, thick-set young fellow, with a round, pleasant face, honest eyes, and a frank and good-humored smile.

He touched his cap, and Henry Carleton nodded in return. "Everything all right, Satterlee?" he asked, and the chauffeur quickly responded, "Yes, sir; everything all right, sir;"--then, very respectfully, as if he realized that his interest was leading him into a breach of strict decorum, "Isn't Mr. Jack coming, sir?"