The Carleton Case Part 3

Carleton, with a most disconcerting lack of gallantry, obstinately shook his head. "This very important," he said, "we'll go back way of Birches; leave you there; this 'xceedingly important. You don't understand. You never went college. Quincentennial--no, quinquecentennial, no, quinquen--oh, d.a.m.n, five years out of college, that's what it is.

Special dinner. Oh, what a fool I was to forget. How could I?"

The girl sat with frowning brows. "Oh, very well," she said, offended, "you needn't ask _me_ to go anywhere with you again; that's all;" and then, this remark having no noticeable effect, she began softly to cry.

Instantly Carleton's shifting mood had veered again, and in a moment his arm was once more around her waist, and he leaned protectingly over her.

"Come, come," he cried, "don' do that. Can't stan' that. We'll go out there s'mother time, my dear. But not t'night, not t'night; special t'night; special; awful good fellows, both of 'em; better'n I am, d.a.m.n sight. Both good fellows. Don't cry."

With a quick, sinuous movement she wrenched herself free, putting half the distance of the broad cushioned seat between them. "Don't," she cried, "I hate you!" and in constrained and moody silence the big motor whirred along upon its homeward way.

Nor was home to be gained without further misadventure. Presently, even before they had covered half the distance to The Birches, something went wrong with the machine, and the chauffeur, steering in close to the side of the road, dismounted and began to search for the trouble, spurred on by the accompaniment of Carleton's speech, which seemed every moment to gain in picturesqueness and force. Suddenly out of the darkness appeared two broad white streaks of dazzling light, the wail of a horn sounded in their ears, and another automobile pa.s.sed them, to draw up, just beyond, with a quick grinding and jarring of brakes. A friendly voice hailed them. "Anything wrong? Help you out?" Carleton started at the words. He leaned forward in the seat, and whispered hastily to the chauffeur.

Instantly the latter answered, "No thank you, sir, nothing wrong," and the second motor sped along upon its way. Carleton's brow contracted.

"Wonder if he saw," he muttered, "light's pretty bright; looked like Marjory, too; didn't know the colonel drove much at night, anyway."

There was a moment's pause; then all at once, he added, "Friday! Friday!

Good G.o.d! that was the other thing. d.a.m.n the luck! d.a.m.n everything!" and mingling threats and entreaties, he renewed his urging to the worried chauffeur.

An hour later, at the Press Club, Vaughan's cigar was well under way, and Helmar was helping himself to a second cup of coffee, when suddenly the door burst open, and there appeared before them the somewhat unsteady figure of their absent friend. Before either of them could speak, he had begun a rambling and incoherent apology, continuing it as he sank limply into the chair reserved for him.

"Must 'scuse me," was the burden of his speech, "mem'ry comple'ly wen'

back on me; thoroughly 'shame myself--" and there was much more in the same vein; then, all at once reaching the sentimental stage of his orgy, he began to develop a vein of maudlin self-pity; "Helmar," he cried despairingly, "you been good fren' me always. I tell you, 's no good. I try--I try 's hard's anyone--and oh, Helmar--" his voice broke, and with a mixture of the ridiculous and the pathetic that made both his hearers choke a little hysterically, even while their eyes were moist, he culminated despairingly, "'S no use, fellers; 's no use; I'll tell you where'm going; _I'm going to h.e.l.l in a hack_; thash what I am," and forthwith he laid his head upon the table, and began to weep.

It was long after midnight when Helmar and Vaughan finally deposited him, remonstrating and unwilling, in safety at the Mayflower, leaving him in skilful hands well versed in the treatment of his malady, and found themselves, flushed, weary, and not in the best of humors, again in the street.

"And so ends our great reunion," said Vaughan, mopping his heated forehead. "Jack ought to feel pleased with himself; he's certainly succeeded in knocking all the pleasure out of it for everybody, about as well as any one could. And I think, on the whole, that I'm inclined to agree with him about where he's bound."

Helmar sighed, a sigh of honest disappointment and anxiety. "Jack's a mighty good fellow," he answered, "but he's certainly in a bad way now.

If he ever means to amount to anything, he's got to fight, and fight hard, too. Well, come on, Arthur, I suppose we'd better get to bed," and thus the long-planned quinquennial reunion came sadly and dismally to an end.

CHAPTER IV

A FOOL AND HIS MONEY

"Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances."

_Shakespeare._

Jack Carleton stood in front of the ticker in Turner and Driver's office, letting the narrow white ribbon run lightly through his fingers.

For the moment he was alone. The big clock over on the post-office building had just boomed slowly the hour of twelve, and the little knot of customers, calmly or hurriedly, according to their several temperaments, had one by one gone out to lunch, for man must eat, though black care sit at his elbow. And indeed, though the little ticker still buzzed and whirred unceasingly, and the tape, with scarcely a halt or pause in its onward course, still ran as smoothly and persistently as ever, for the moment the worst of the drive seemed really to be over. So that presently Carleton lifted his eyes, red-rimmed and tired from the blur of black and white beneath them, letting the quotations run on unheeded, and stood with eyes fixed on the spot where, just visible through the very top of the tall window, framed in with line and bar of blackened roof and dingy chimney top, there smiled cheerfully down into the gloom of the darkened office a cloudless patch of bright blue sky.

Imperceptibly the sound of the ticker ceased, and the white ribbon began fantastically to curl and twist in his hand, for all unconsciously his fingers had closed upon it, checking the smoothness of its onward flow.

The little patch of blue sky had sent his thoughts wandering far afield.

A moment before he had been standing there in the office, wondering miserably whether to try to pull out, while there was yet time, with a good part of his little fortune gone, or whether, with anchors grappling desperately for holding ground, to strive somehow to ride out the storm.

And now, so long had his mind run upon things trivial and unimportant, that despite the panic, despite the danger he was in, thanks to that casual upward glance, he stood already in imagination at the first tee at the Country Club, the green of the valley lying smooth and fair beneath him, the couple ahead just disappearing over the farther dip of the hill, and he himself, well-limbered up, driver in hand, in the act of placing the new white ball on the well-made tee, properly confident of smashing it out a hundred and eighty yards away, amid the close-cropped velvet of the rolling turf. Absolutely a perfect day, he reflected, for the medal round; no wind, a bright sun, greens quick, yet true--and above all, he felt that he could win. Barnes was entered, of course, and Henderson himself--he was paired with him--and Henderson had told Jake Rogers that since he had changed his grip he could "put it all over" Carleton, match or medal, any time they met. Rogers, with his little crooked smile, had taken pains, of course, to repeat the remark, and while Jack had laughed and said, "Oh, sure, he can lick me all right," in his own heart of hearts, nevertheless, he knew that he could trim Henderson, and somewhat grimly had awaited his chance. About a hundred and sixty would do it, he figured; say a seventy-nine to-day and an eighty-one to-morrow--two such perfect days in succession could hardly be--yes, about a couple of eighties would do the trick.

His vision faded as swiftly as it had come. The green of the links had vanished, and in its stead the four square walls of the office, swinging smoothly into place, had closed tightly in again upon him and his troubled fortunes. With a start, and a half-guilty flush, he glanced hastily over the yard or two of tape which he still held, looped and bent, in his tense fingers. But to his relief, as he quickly scanned the quotations, there seemed to be no cause for further immediate alarm. On the contrary, the general tone of things was still improving. Akme Mining was seventeen now, up two and a quarter; Suburban Electric had rallied to sixty-three; Fuel was up four, at eighty. With a sigh, Carleton's eyes were raised again to the patch of blue sky.

And now into the office bustled Jim Turner, hurried and preoccupied, showing plainly the nervous strain of the last three days, and especially of that grim and ghastly yesterday, when for five endless hours it had seemed that the bottom of the market, if not, indeed, of the earth itself, might be going to fall out for ever and a day; a troubled, anxious time alike for broker and customer, banker and depositor, a time when the emergency brakes had been put on so suddenly and so hard that the whole great financial stage-coach had come momentarily to a standstill, with a jar so tremendous that scores of pa.s.sengers, especially those who occupied only precarious standing-room, had been hurled bodily to the ground, and some indeed, according to the stern panic-law of self-preservation, had even been quietly and with despatch pushed over the side, in order to make better the chances of those remaining for keeping in safety the threatened security of their seats.

Turner headed straight for the ticker, as he neared it striving, with an obviousness scarcely rea.s.suring, to appear cheerful and unconcerned.

"Hullo, Jack," he said, "how they coming now?" and without waiting for a reply, gathered up a dozen yards of the tape and let it pa.s.s quickly under his practised eye. "H'm," he said, almost immediately, in a tone that plainly enough showed his relief, "not so bad, are they? Quite a lot better than they were an hour ago. Oh, I guess we'll come through it somehow, after all."

His tone gave Carleton measureless comfort. He found himself nodding with a.s.surance. "Oh, yes," he answered, "they're really a lot better. I guess things are all right now. Do you suppose, Jim--" he hesitated, stopped, and then, with a flush of color, and his eyes averted from Turner's face, "do you suppose, Jim, you'll be able to see me through?"

Turner non-committally shrugged his shoulders. "Why," he answered, not unkindly, "I guess so. Yes, if things don't go all to the devil again, I guess we can. But you're in too deep, Jack, for a man that hasn't unlimited resources. It isn't right, really. I'll stand by you as long as I can--and when I can't, I'll let you know--and then, if you can't do anything, and it gets too bad, why, business is business, Jack, and we'll have to chuck you. That's all we _can_ do."

Carleton gazed at him a little helplessly; then asked, "But you think the worst's over, don't you?" He spoke so trustfully, and with such confidence in the other's judgment, that Turner gave a half-contemptuous, half-embarra.s.sed laugh. "Why, yes," he answered slowly, "I _think_ it is, but good Lord, Jack, at a time like this I'm not on the inside. I'm only one of the small fry. If I could tell you what you wanted to know, instead of just guessing at it, I wouldn't be here, working for a living; I can tell you that; I'd be over touring the continent in a big French six-cylinder. That's where I'd be." He paused a moment; then, laying a hand on Carleton's arm, continued, "But to the best of my knowledge, I really think the worst _is_ over, and that things are going to right themselves. Gradually, of course; it's going to take time; but they'll right themselves, for all that. And I wouldn't worry too much, Jack, if I were you. I'll give you warning anyway, and if worst should come to worst, why, I suppose your old man would see you through, wouldn't he, if it was a case of that or bust?"

Carleton shook his head. "No, I guess not," he answered, "he would if he could, but there's something queer about the property now. I didn't know about it till a little while ago, and I don't understand all the details yet; but the idea is that my father's made Henry trustee of everything. Henry's the whole shooting-match at home now, you know. So I guess it wouldn't do to try the old gentleman. No, I've got in too deep, like a fool, and I've got to get out by myself or else drown; one of the two. But if I can only get by, this time, you can bet I'll never be such an a.s.s again. You see, Jim," he added, ruefully enough, "I wanted to show people--"

Turner laughed, though without amus.e.m.e.nt. "Yes, I know," he said dryly, "you wanted to come the young Napoleon racket. There've been others. You needn't kick yourself for being the only one. But there must be some one that would help you out, Jack. Why couldn't you go to your uncle himself?"

He made the suggestion casually enough, yet with a shrewd eye on the younger man's expression. Carleton frowned. "Well," he answered doubtfully, "I'd hate to do that. You know what Henry and I think of each other. I suppose I could, though, if I was dead up against it. But I'm not going to worry yet." He glanced once more at the tape; then added, "Things really have steadied, haven't they, Jim? I guess we're all safe for to-day."

Turner did not at once reply. The events of the last three days had to a large extent discouraged him from hazarding further prophecies. "Can't tell," he answered guardedly, at length, "can't tell these days, but they've certainly steadied quite a bit; that's sure; perhaps they'll begin to pick up now."

As he spoke, a clerk entered with a bundle of papers in his hand. "For you to sign, Mr. Turner," he said, and Turner, taking them, departed into his private office. One or two quick lunchers, the vanguard of the returning stream of regular patrons, came in at the outer door; the first, thin, pale and dyspeptic looking, making hastily for the ticker, with no attempt to conceal his anxiety; the other, stout, red-faced, and philosophic, following more calmly, his hat on the back of his head, making leisurely exploration with a toothpick the while, evidently with a certain not unpraiseworthy desire to show that even in the throes of a panic a man could still be game. As they approached, Carleton glanced first at the tape, then at his watch, then at the patch of blue sky.

The tape said that Akme Mining was seventeen and a quarter, and that Suburban Electric was sixty-four and a half; the watch said that it was twelve-fifteen, and that the twelve-thirty train would get him to the Country Club in time for lunch; the patch of blue sky said "Come." With a rather guilty haste he walked quickly toward the door, for a moment paused on the threshold, still listening to the whirring of the ticker; and then pa.s.sed hurriedly out into the street.

It was Championship Cup day at the Country Club, and the locker room, when Carleton entered it two hours later, was crowded with excited men in various stages of dress and undress; men who had entered the Club five minutes before as respectable doctors, lawyers, bankers and business men, and who, five minutes later, were to emerge in a common indecorous garb of faded flannel shirts, dingy gray trousers and shapeless felt hats, making their way toward the first tee with an eagerness which in fulfilling their professional engagements, they were seldom, if ever, seen to display.

Carleton, entering, with the mechanical dexterity of long habit, almost with one motion stripped off coat and vest, collar and tie, and opening his locker, began pulling out his clubs and his battered golfing clothes. He affected not to see Henderson, thin and spare and brown, seated on a bench with knees drawn up under his chin and clasped by bare, sinewy arms.

Presently his rival rose and sauntered over to him across the room. He stood near Carleton in silence, and the two eyed each other with grins, hostile, yet friendly. Finally Henderson spoke. "Well," he observed, without enthusiasm, "how's the boy? Looking a little bit fine, what? A little bit pale for him, hey?" Carleton laughed, with elaborate disdain.

"Oh, no, Tommy," he returned, "can't catch me that way. That's too old a gag. Never felt better in my life, thanks. How are they scoring?

Barnes finished yet?"

Henderson nodded. "Played this morning," he said, "was going fine till the eighteenth, and then drove into the quarry, and dropped his nerve.

Cost him nine for the hole, and did an eighty-five at that. Said his caddie moved just as he was swinging back for his drive; too bad, wasn't it?"

His tone belied the grief expressed by his last words, and at his humorous wink Carleton openly smiled. Both could exult in the common enjoyment of seeing a dangerous rival put out of the running. "Yes, too bad," he rejoined, "his eighty-five the best?"

Henderson shook his head. "No," he answered, "fellow from Brooklawn did an eighty-three. Nothing much else under ninety, though; one or two eighty-nines, I believe, and an eighty-eight; better get limbered up a bit, Jack; it's getting near our turn. See you outside."

Carleton nodded, tightened his belt another hole, and reached for his clubs. Then, for a moment turning his back on the crowded room, he held out his hand, scanning the fingers critically. His ideas of conditioning himself were his own. He frowned slightly, shaking his head in displeasure. "That's the first time that's happened again so soon," he muttered, "I thought I looked out for that this morning. Well, I know the answer, anyway," and a couple of minutes later, wiping his lips with his handkerchief, he joined Henderson outside the club-house, and began leisurely to limber up.

It was a quarter of an hour later when, in answer to their names, they stepped forward to the first tee. Henderson, having the honor, surveyed his footing with care, and then, absolutely cool and phlegmatic, teed his ball, eyed the direction flag waving on the cop bunker some seventy yards away, and with his provokingly easy swing drove a ball without much "ginger" behind it, a trifle high yet superlatively safe, unerring in direction and with some distance to it as well, for the road was a full hundred and fifty yards from the tee, and the little white sphere stood out plainly against the green of the turf some twenty yards beyond. Still with the utmost deliberation he stepped back off the tee, and Carleton took his place. His style was almost the ant.i.thesis of Henderson's. His tee was scarcely more than a pinch of the damp sand, just enough to insure a good lie for his ball; almost negligently, it seemed, he fell at once into his stance, swinging back with an astonishing freedom, yet with complete mastery of a somewhat dashing style, and coming through into a finish absolutely superb. Low and straight sped his ball, hardly more than twenty feet over the top of the bunker; then, beginning slowly to rise, soaring magnificently onward, finally to come to a stop some fifty or sixty yards beyond the road.

Henderson whistled as they walked down the path. "Some one's feeling fine," he said. "Glad you got in one good one, anyway, Jack."

Carleton smiled grimly. "Oh, a few more at home like that I guess," he retorted, "you've got to crack an eighty to-day, Tommy, if you want to be in the game."

His second shot, indeed, seemed to bear out his words. Henderson had taken an iron, cleared the bunker that guarded the green, and was safely on its farther edge in two, but Carleton, playing a high, clean mashie, with plenty of back-spin, managed to lay his ball up within a dozen feet of the flag. On the green Henderson putted true and straight, his ball stopping so near the hole as to make a four a certainty.

Carleton, with a little more deliberation than he had yet shown, eyed the line of his put. "Easy," he muttered to himself, half-aloud, "nothing to it; easiest thing you know; just get the line, follow her through, and she--goes--_down_."

With the final word the ball ticked against the farther edge of the cup, and dropped gently in for a three. Henderson, holing out, whistled again. "Somebody's got their good eye with 'em," he observed, and Carleton, picking up his ball, drew a long breath of content. "Oh, the devil," he answered good-naturedly, "this is one of my days; I can do anything I want to to 'em to-day;" and in silence they strode away for the second tee.

Outward for the first nine holes they played, into a world, green under foot and blue and white above, the sunshine just pleasantly warm, the cool westerly breeze barely stirring the green leaves in the tree-tops, and faintly rousing the drooping direction flags below. A world of good-fellowship, a world of youth and joy, and withal, the rigor of the game to make them at times wholly unconscious, at times all the more conscious, of the glory above, around, beneath them. Henderson, the safe and sane, was on his game, making the first nine holes in an even forty, but Carleton played beyond himself. Twice only on the outward journey did he make mistakes, and for both he atoned by pulling off two shots well-nigh marvelous--one a clean, slashing bra.s.sie that put him on the edge of the green on the long fifth--four hundred and fifty yards--in two; one a straight, deadly put of twenty-five feet at the eighth; no wonder that Henderson unwillingly totaled a thirty-six for his rival, puckered his lips, but this time without the whistle, and mournfully shook his head. Coming in, indeed, Carleton's pace slackened a bit, and his playing became, in Henderson's phrase, "considerably more like a human being's." Mistakes, one or two of them costly, were not lacking; his putting fell off a bit; his confidence seemed a little to diminish; yet, spite of all, he still played brilliantly, and when on the eighteenth, he drove a long, straight ball, far over the quarry, with no danger between him and the home hole, Henderson was forced to admit defeat. He himself finished as steadily as ever, coming in without any serious error, without anything especially brilliant, with a card all fours and fives, in forty-two, and thus handed it an eighty-two for the round. Carleton's card in was more irregular; it was marred by two sixes, but these were balanced by two threes and an occasional four, altogether forty-one for the second nine, and a total of seventy-seven.