The Moneychangers Part 4

"They obey him!" said Montague. "No mistake about that! There is not a man in Wall Street who could live for twenty-four hours if old Dan Waterman went after him in earnest."

"How in the world does he do it?" asked Lucy. "Is he so enormously rich?"

"It is not the money he owns," said Montague; "it's what he controls. He is master of the banks; and no man can take a step in Wall Street without his knowing it if he wants to. And he can break a man's credit; he can have all his loans called. He can swing the market so as to break a man. And then, think of his power in Washington! He uses the Treasury as if it were one of his branch offices."

"It seems frightful," said Lucy. "And that old man--over eighty! I'm glad that I met him, at any rate."

She paused, seeing Stanley Ryder in the doorway. He was evidently looking for her. He took her in to dinner; and every now and then, when Montague stole a glance at her, he saw that Ryder was monopolising her attention.

After dinner they adjourned to the music-room, and Ryder played a couple of Chopin's Nocturnes. He never took his eyes from Lucy's face while he was playing. "I declare," remarked Betty Wyman in Montague's hearing, "the way Stanley Ryder makes love at the piano is positively indecent."

Montague dodged several invitations to play cards, and deliberately placed himself at Lucy's side for the evening. And when at last Stanley Ryder had gone away in disgust to the smoking-room, he turned to her and said, "Lucy, you must let me speak to you about this."

"I don't mind your speaking to me, Allan," she said; with a feeble attempt at a smile.

"But you must pay attention to me," he protested. "You really don't know the sort of man you are dealing with, or what people think about him."

She sat in silence, biting her lip nervously, while Montague told her, as plainly as he could, what Ryder's reputation was. All that she could answer was, "He is such an interesting man!"

"There are many interesting men," said he, "but you will never meet them if you get people talking about you like this."

Lucy clasped her hands together.

"Allan," she exclaimed, "I did my best to persuade him not to come out here. And you are right. I will do what you say--I will have nothing to do with him, honestly. You shall see! It's his own fault that he came, and he can find somebody else to entertain him while he's here."

"I wish that you would tell him plainly, Lucy," said Montague.

"Never mind if he gets angry. Make him understand you--once for all."

"I will--I will!" she declared.

And Montague judged that she carried out her promise quickly, for the rest of the evening Ryder gave to entertaining the company.

About midnight Montague chanced to look into the library, and he saw the president of the Gotham Trust in the midst of a group which was excitedly discussing divorce. "Marriage is a sin for which the church refuses absolution!" he heard Stanley Ryder exclaiming.

CHAPTER III

A few days after these incidents, Montague was waiting for a friend who was to come to dinner at his hotel. He was sitting in the lobby reading a paper, and he noticed an elderly gentleman with a grey goatee and rather florid complexion who pa.s.sed down the corridor before him. A minute or two later he happened to glance up, and he caught this gentleman's eye.

The latter started, and a look of amazement came over his face. He came forward, saying, "I beg pardon, but is not this Allan Montague?"

"It is," said Montague, looking at him in perplexity.

"You don't remember me, do you?" said the other.

"I must confess that I do not," was the answer.

"I am Colonel Cole."

But Montague only knitted his brows in greater perplexity. "Colonel Cole?" he repeated.

"You were too young to remember me," the other said. "I have been at your house a dozen times. I was in your father's brigade."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Montague. "I beg your pardon."

"Don't mention it, don't mention it," said the other, taking a seat beside him. "It was really extraordinary that I should recall you.

And how is your brother? Is he in New York?"

"He is," said Montague.

"And your mother? She is still living, I trust?"

"Oh, yes," said he. "She is in this hotel."

"It is really an extraordinary pleasure!" exclaimed the other. "I did not think I knew a soul in New York."

"You are visiting here?" asked Montague.

"From the West," said the Colonel.

"It is curious how things follow out," he continued, after a pause.

"I was thinking about your father only this very day. I had a proposal from someone who wanted to buy some stock that I have--in the Northern Mississippi Railroad."

Montague gave a start. "You don't mean it!" he said.

"Yes," said the other. "Your father persuaded me to take some of the stock, away back in the old days. And I have had it ever since. I had forgotten all about it."

Montague smiled. "When you have disposed of yours," he said, "you might refer your party to me. I know of some more that is for sale."

"I have no doubt," said the Colonel. "But I fancy it won't fetch much now. I don't remember receiving any dividends."

There was a pause. "It is a curious coincidence," said the other.

"I, too, have been thinking about the railroad. My friend, Mrs.

Taylor, has just come up from New Orleans. She used to be Lucy Dupree."

The Colonel strove to recall. "Dupree?" he said.

"Judge Dupree's daughter," said Montague. "His brother, John Dupree, was the first president of the road."

"Oh, yes," said the Colonel. "Of course, of course! I remember the Judge now. Your father told me he had taken quite a lot of the stock."

"Yes, he was the prime mover in the enterprise."

"And who was that other gentleman?" said the Colonel, racking his brains. "The one who used to be so much in his house, and was so much interested in him--"

"You mean Mr. Lee Gordon?" said Montague.