Charles Holton met his brother Fred in the lobby of the Morton House on an afternoon near the end of January. Charles was presenting a buoyant exterior to the world despite a renewal of the disquieting rumors of the fall as to Sycamore Traction and equally disagreeable hints in inner financial and legal circles as to the reopening of Samuel Holton's estate. He resented Fred's meddling in the matter; he was the head of the family and a man of affairs, and he was not pleasantly impressed by the fact that on two occasions to his knowledge Fred had visited Kirkwood at his Indianapolis office.
"I want to see you," said Charles. "Why don't you come to see me when you're in the city and save me the trouble of chasing over here?"
"Well, Charlie, you've found me now. What is it you want?"
"Come up to my room. I don't care to have all Montgomery hear us."
When the door closed on them, Charles threw off his overcoat and confronted his brother with a dark countenance.
"You're playing the devil with the whole bunch of us—do you realize that! You've been sneaking over to Kirkwood to tell him all our family history. You think by playing up to him you'll get a lot of money. If you had any claims against father's estate you ought to have come to me with them—not gone to the man that's trying to pull us all down."
"Stop, right where you are! I went to Kirkwood because I felt that the only square thing was to turn the farm over to him until things were straightened out. And after I'd turned in the farm, you fell over yourself to surrender some stuff you had—things you'd tried to hide or placed a fake appraisement on."
Charles, standing by the window with his hands in his pockets, smiled derisively. Fred's long ulster accentuated his rural appearance. He was a big fellow and his deep voice had boomed with an aggressive note his brother resented.
"Don't bawl as though you were driving cattle. There's no need of telling all Main Street our affairs. Do you know what's the matter with you—Kirkwood's working you! He's trying to scare you with threats of the penitentiary into telling him a lot of stuff about the family. He meant to try it on me, but I beat him to it—I told him to go to the bottom of everything. And if you'd kept your mouth shut I'd have taken care of you, too. You took that farm with your eyes open; and I'll say to you right now that you got a better share of the estate than Ethel and I did."
"Then you haven't anything to be afraid of. If it's all straight there can't be any trouble. Is this all you wanted?"
This was evidently not in the least what Charles wanted, for he changed his tone and the direction of the talk.
"You know, Fred, I was in father's confidence very fully. I am older than you, and I was associated with him in his schemes and knew all about them. Father was a very able man; you know that; everybody said he was one of the shrewdest and most farseeing men in the state. I won't say that his methods were always just what they should have been; but he's dead and gone, and it's not for us to jump on him or let anybody else kick him. So far we understand each other, don't we?"
"All right; hurry up with the rest of it."
"This is not a hurrying matter. I've got to take you into my confidence, and I want it understood that what I say doesn't go back to Kirkwood. He's a relentless devil, once he gets started. I suppose it hasn't occurred to you that he may have a motive for pursuing us—you and me and any other Holton he has a chance to injure. You see that point, don't you?"
"No. What is it?"
"Well, you're duller than I think you are if it hasn't occurred to you that Kirkwood is trying to even up with us for the loss of his wife. It was our dear Uncle Jack that ran off with her; it was a Holton that did it! You recollect that, don't you?"
"I seem to recall it," replied Fred ironically. He had mechanically drawn out his pipe and was filling it from a canvas bag of cheap tobacco.
"And that's all there is to it. Kirkwood had mooned around town here for years, doing nothing. Then suddenly an old friend of his in the East took pity on him and gave him this Sycamore Company to meddle in, and he's contemptible enough to use a law case for personal vengeance against perfectly innocent people. And you walked into the trap like a silly sheep!"
"You know you don't believe that, Charlie. Kirkwood isn't that kind of man. He's on the level and high grade."
"He may be all that; but he's a human being too. There's no man on earth who'd pass a thing like that. An ignorant, coarse beast would have shot somebody; but an educated man like Kirkwood calculates carefully and sticks the knife in when he sees a chance to make it go clear through. That girl of his is the cutest kid in Indiana, and I wouldn't do anything to hurt her. But we've got to protect ourselves, you and I, Fred. We're not responsible for Uncle Jack's sins. The whole thing is blistering Kirkwood right now because Uncle Jack's turned up and the lady in the case has had so little decency as to follow him."
"I don't suppose she thought of doing anything of the kind. She and Uncle Jack broke long ago. He told me so, in fact, at Indianapolis, and made her cruel abandonment an excuse for borrowing five dollars of me."
"Well, we've got to get rid of him! He's doing all he can against us; sending people to Kirkwood with stories about father, and the traction business. I tell you, Fred," he declared ardently, "our family is in danger of going to hell if you and I don't do something pretty quick to stop it."
Fred puffed his pipe and watched his brother fidgeting nervously about the room. A phonograph across the street called attention to a moving-picture show. In the hotel office below, the porter proclaimed the departure of the 'bus to connect with the six-three for Peoria and all points West.
"There they go now!" exclaimed Charles from the window. "By George! She's a good-looking woman yet!"
Fred joined him and looked down. Phil and her mother were passing rapidly on the opposite side of the street. Unconsciously Fred drew off his cap.
"She's a very pleasant woman," he remarked. "Phil introduced me to her the other day."
"The devil she did! Where did all this happen?"
"At Mr. Montgomery's. Phil's staying there while her father's away."
"I like your cheek! They say my nerve is pretty well developed, but it isn't equal to that. How did our late aunt—I suppose that's what she is," he grinned—"take you?"
"Like a lady, for instance. My going there wasn't as cheeky as you imagine. I was invited."
"Phil?"
"No; Mr. Montgomery."
"There must be a trick in it somewhere. He's a foxy old boy, that Amzi. Has the general appearance of a fool, but he never loses any money."
"He's offered me a job," said Fred.
"He's what?"
"Offered me a job."
"What's the joke? You don't mean that with all this fuss over his sister's coming back he's picked out a Holton to offer a job to!"
"That's what's happened. They want Perry—his farmer—to take a teaching place at the agricultural school. It's a fine chance for him, and Mr. Montgomery has released him from his contract. Perry recommended me, and Mr. Montgomery asked me to the house a few evenings ago to talk it over. The arrangement includes my own farm, too, which Kirkwood holds as trustee until the Sycamore business is straightened out."
Charles backed away and stared at his brother scornfully.
"You idiot! don't you see what they're doing? They're buying you body and soul. They want to get you on their side—don't you see it?—to use against Uncle Will and me. Well! of all the smooth, cold-blooded, calculating scoundrels I ever heard of, they are the beatingest. Of course you saw it; you haven't walked into the trap!"
"I've accepted the position."
"You blundering fool, you can't accept it! I won't let you accept it!"
"I'm moving my traps to the Montgomery farmhouse to-morrow, so you'll have to call out the troops if you stop me."
"Well, of all the damned fools!" Then after a turn across the room he flashed round at his brother. "Look here, Fred; I see your game. You want to marry that girl. Well, you can't do that either!"
"All right, Charlie. Suppose you write out a list of the various things I can't do so I won't miss any of them. You haven't any sense of humor or you wouldn't talk about Phil marrying me. Phil's not likely to marry a clodhopper, her uncle's hired hand."
"Don't be an ass, Fred. Phil's a fine girl; she's a wonder."
"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 hoarsely 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. Damn 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, cocksure 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 buttoning 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 passion.
"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 damned 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!”