CHAPTER XVII
“Very well, Hammond,” Hugh arose wearily from his chair, “I’m not going to quarrel with you,” he informed. “I’m sorry to lose your friendship, but as long as you feel the way you do—perhaps it’s just as well.”
“Benton, I’m going to be candid with you, and tell you that I intend offering my services to Howard and Mrs. Benton. The boy will need help and I’m going to stand by him,” Hammond announced as he stood up to leave.
“Griggs,” he said to the waiting butler when he reached the hall, “will you kindly ask Mrs. Benton to see me for a few moments? Tell her I wish to speak to her on a matter of great importance.”
“Mrs. Benton will be with you directly, sir.” Griggs returned with the message almost immediately. “Will you wait here?” he asked, indicating Marjorie’s morning room as he opened the door.
Hammond stood gazing out of the window when the mother of Howard entered.
She held out her hand. “You wish to see me, Mr. Hammond?” she murmured politely, though the paleness of her face, the distraught manner showed plainly how pain had been with her through the hours. She added, hesitatingly: “I think I know why. But after the events of last night, and this morning, don’t you think Hugh could have been a little more considerate, and at least had waited a day before sending his attorney to me?”
“Mr. Benton didn’t send me at all, Mrs. Benton—I’ve come of my own accord.”
“But I don’t understand. You’ve always been Hugh’s attorney, so naturally I thought he had consulted you, and Howard told me you were with him—last night.” Her lips quivered pitifully over the last two words.
Hammond nodded. “Yes—I was with him last night, and I have been closeted with him in the library for the past half hour or so, just long enough for me to refuse to act as his attorney in the future.”
Marjorie’s astonishment was great as she heard him and saw the tightening of the lips under the grizzled mustache.
“Why, Mr. Hammond, you’ve been friends for years! Have you—have—you—quarreled?” she queried.
“We haven’t exactly quarreled, Mrs. Benton, but we can’t agree on certain points, so——”
But to the mother, with thought now only for the son she loved, such a contingency could only take on the proportions of a catastrophe. She knew the reputation held by John Hammond. For years, since he had been her husband’s attorney she had been told of his legal prowess, and had come to believe that anything he undertook of that nature could mean only triumph for his client. All the hours since the painful scene in the library she had hugged to her breast the thought that Howard would be defended by this cleverest of lawyers, and the outcome was to her a foregone conclusion. She caught her breath painfully as she realized now that Howard might, through some nonsensical quarrel of his father’s, be denied the lawyer’s protection. She caught at his sleeve with an appealing gesture.
“Oh—Mr. Hammond,” she cried, her lips trembling, “you can’t desert us now! What will Howard do? Your cleverness, your knowledge means so much to my boy!”
“There, there, Mrs. Benton! Sit down and calm yourself!” He pulled a chair forward and forced her into it. Then, still standing, he went on: “When I came here this morning to see your husband, I hadn’t an idea of this estrangement between you—my business concerned Howard. I only learned of the other affair a short while ago. It was over that Mr. Benton and I could not agree.”
“I must confess that you have aroused my curiosity, Mr. Hammond. I’ve always been under the impression that a lawyer obeyed his clients’ instructions in a case like this,” she smiled wanly, “without questioning.”
“Some lawyers,” he amended, as he, too, smiled. “No, Mrs. Benton, I disapprove of the step your husband is about to take. His dismissal and my resignation were delivered at the same time. So now, I have sent for you to offer my services in Howard’s behalf as well as your own.”
“Then Hugh has evidently told you about Howard’s defense of me?” Marjorie was eager and her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “Oh, he was so wonderful, Mr. Hammond, and I’m so grateful to you for standing by him! That is all you—anyone—can do for me. You know I have consented to give Hugh his freedom?”
“You don’t have to do it, Mrs. Benton,” he answered sternly.
“I am to receive a great deal of money from Hugh in payment of my kind consideration of him,” she informed bitterly.
Hammond went over to Marjorie and bowed low before her. “You’re a big woman, Mrs. Benton,” he paid homage, “and there are very few like you in these days. I understand your motive thoroughly, but—” and he looked at her sharply. “Mrs. Benton—you don’t believe in divorce——”
She waved away the matter with resignation as her nervous hands pulled to pieces the rose she had taken from a floor vase near.
“Nothing matters about me, Mr. Hammond,” was her firm reply. “It’s only my boy of whom I’m thinking! I must save him!”
Hammond’s jovial countenance turned apoplectic in his sudden burst of rage as he looked at the shrinking, suffering mother and thought of the man he had just left who was responsible for so much of her sorrow, so proudly borne.
“What a beastly advantage to take of mother love!” he fumed. “Your own husband, the father of your children, forcing you to relinquish the doctrine in which you have always believed! In a fit of rage he turned Howard adrift, as it were, little dreaming at the time that you would come forward and accept his bribe. I’m sorry to hurt you, Mrs. Benton,” he apologized gently, as Marjorie buried her face in her arm and shuddered at the word, “but that is exactly what it is—his bribe! When you, in your beautiful loyalty and love for your son, offered him his freedom in return for the money, he considered it ‘an act of Providence’ providing him with the means to gratifying his desire.” Each word was cutting sarcasm that should have buoyed Marjorie Benton. But she was passed caring for most things. She scattered the petals in a shower at her feet, watching them fall idly.
“After all,” she sighed and shook her head sadly, “it doesn’t make any difference. I can’t hold him if he doesn’t care for me.”
“You may not be able to hold his love,” he replied, “but you can prevent him from remarrying if you wish to, as you need never divorce him. That is what I am here to tell you. I will take Howard’s case, I’ll save him, too, and it will never cost you a dollar!”
“Oh—Mr. Hammond.” The tears sprang to her eyes. “You are indeed a friend, and I’m at a loss for words in which to express my gratitude! But I’ve quite made up my mind to let Hugh have his freedom.”
“That is entirely up to you. Candidly speaking, I don’t think he’s worth holding, but I hate to see you hurt so deeply,” he asserted.
“Don’t you think there can come a time, when one is past being hurt?” Her lips formed a smile, but her eyes were heavy with tears. “There have been so many shocks the last few weeks, I just can’t seem to feel at all—any more.”
“It doesn’t surprise me—it seems remarkable to me, that you have been able to hold up at all. Ah—” he turned as Howard entered, “Good morning—I was just about to send for you.”
“Good morning, Mr. Hammond,” Howard’s heavy eyes betrayed the lack of sleep and the tension. “Hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”
“No, I was just going over a little business with your mother. We’ll have to be going downtown soon though. We’re due at the coroner’s inquest at two o’clock.”
“Shall I come with you?” Marjorie asked quickly.
“No, indeed, Mrs. Benton—not at all necessary,” Hammond assured her. “Nothing will go wrong. You must try to trust me implicitly, Mrs. Benton. Rest all you can. We may have a case before us, and then you will require your strength, but I assure there is nothing to fear. We will have to hurry a bit, my boy,” Hammond went on, in his curt, businesslike manner that he had discarded with Marjorie. “We can talk in my car on the way to town. I’ll leave a message with Griggs for your father. I want him to bring Elinor down ahead of time, so that I can have a few words with her. Good-by, Mrs. Benton,” and he held both her hands in a warm, firm grip, “keep up your courage, little woman! Everything’s going to be all right!”
“I feel assured of that, Mr. Hammond.” She smiled as brightly as possible. “How could it be otherwise—in your capable hands. When will I know anything?”
“We’ll ’phone you just as soon as it’s over. I’m going to see Griggs a moment—I’ll meet you in the car, Howard.”
“Good-by, mother.” Howard held his mother tightly in his arms for a moment. Strange what comfort he got from those arms—how new that comfort was—that he had never known these years. He kissed her mouth and the eyes which bravely forced back the tears. “Don’t you worry, dear!”
Hugh Benton and his daughter arrived at John Hammond’s office but a short time after his arrival there with the financier’s accused son. He had had time for only a short talk with Howard, who only repeated his story of the night before, when Hugh and Elinor were announced.
“They might just as well come in now,” he told Howard. “There are some questions I would like to ask you and your sister together.”
Elinor Benton, pale, and dramatically conscious of the part she played in her own mind of being all but widowed, entered the inner office of the lawyer leaning heavily on the arm of her father. John Hammond frowned annoyedly when he saw she had chosen to costume herself in black; that she gave all outward evidences of being grief stricken, and he thought it ill became her at such a time. But he was not altogether surprised. He had known the girl since she was a tiny child, and her character was an open book to him.
“Sit down,” he said, brusquely, motioning to them to be seated. “This will not take very long.”
Neither Elinor nor Hugh deigned to notice Howard, who sat looking at them through partly closed eyes. Notwithstanding the fact that he was under the strain he was, he could scarcely suppress a smile as he looked at Elinor.
“Just like her,” he muttered, “to dress the part.”
Hammond drew a pad in front of him and dipped his pen in the ink. “Now then, Elinor!” He looked up.
The pale, small figure in black met his eye again. It was too much for him. He fairly exploded:
“What in—well—what in thunderation do you mean by dressing like that? Do you want to play upon the sympathy of a jury and ruin your brother?”
“Why, Mr. Hammond!” Elinor’s handkerchief went straight to her eyes. “How can you talk—to me—like that? Can’t you see—I’m heart-broken?”
Hugh had her in his arms instantly.
“There, darling, don’t cry,” he said soothingly. He turned savagely to Hammond. “I won’t have you talking to her like that! She’s suffering enough—hasn’t she just told you she’s heart-broken?”
“Well, then, let her be sensibly heart-broken!” Hammond brought his fist down upon the desk. “Can you imagine the light it is going to throw upon the case when this slip of a girl appears upon the scene in the garb of an inconsolable widow?”
Elinor removed the handkerchief from her eyes—eyes that were hard behind the glistening of newly shed tears. Her voice was steely as she spoke, the toss of her head defiant.
“I care nothing whatever about Howard!” she said. “You may as well understand that right now! I shall tell the truth, and nothing will induce me to alter my testimony. If things go against him, he will have to suffer the consequences—that’s all!”
“But that is all I require of you—simply to tell the truth. There can’t be anything damaging in your testimony?” The lawyer was evidently a bit worried over Elinor’s peculiar attitude.
“That depends entirely upon how you look at it,” she replied frigidly. “All I know is that Howard quarreled with me at home early in the evening, when I told him I was going to Templeton’s——”
“I didn’t quarrel with you, Elinor,” Howard interrupted. “I merely told you what I thought of Druid, and tried to persuade you——”
“I choose to call it quarreling,” she replied loftily, without permitting him to finish.
“Well, what if he did quarrel with you when he discovered that you were associating with the wrong kind of a man?” Hammond spoke up. “That only goes to prove his brotherly love——”
“Brotherly love! Brotherly devotion!” Elinor’s voice rose to a shriek. “I’m sick of the very words! Everyone knows how we have always disagreed! Why we were never in each other’s society for ten minutes without quarreling—even mother and dad can tell you that! And now everyone expects me to shout from the housetops and proclaim him my valiant defender!” She sneered and her most ardent admirer would not have called Elinor Benton beautiful at that moment of denouncing her brother. “Well, I refuse to do it!” she hastened on, and the stubbornness that had been her birthright was clearly in the ascendant as she spoke. “He killed the man I loved! You can never make me see anything heroic in that!”
“Very well, then, if that’s your attitude, I see no use in my attempting to question you at all.” Hammond laid down his pen. “I can only trust to your sense of justice in answering the questions at the inquest. I have but one request to make, and that is that you will not deliberately try to place a false conception upon everything you say?”
“You need never fear, Mr. Hammond,” she answered. “I shall be perfectly truthful.”
“Benton, I’d like to speak with you alone for a moment before we start.” Hammond turned bluntly to Hugh. “Will you step in here?” He opened the door of a smaller office.
Hugh followed him, Elinor and Howard remaining where they were, each one busy with his and her own thoughts. They may as well have been total strangers for all the notice they deigned to take of one another.
“Hugh,” Hammond began, as soon as they were alone, “I know that you and I parted in anger a short while ago, and that I have since offered my services to Mrs. Benton and Howard. But I can’t allow our personal grievances to stand between right and wrong. It is my duty to warn you that if you don’t use your influence with Elinor before the inquest, I am afraid her testimony is going to do Howard a great deal of damage.”
“I have very little influence over her, I’m sorry to say,” Hugh answered unconcernedly. “She is terribly embittered.”
“But do you realize what this means to your son?”
“I haven’t any son.”
Hugh Benton’s sharp declaration showed plainly that all the embitterment in the Benton family was not monopolized by his daughter.
“Why—why—” Hammond found it difficult to control himself. “You can’t actually be mean enough to want to see the boy get the worst of it?” he blurted.
“I’ll do the best I can with Elinor,” carelessly answered the financier. “I can’t promise any more. Hadn’t we better go?”
“By all means, let’s go. If we remain here much longer, I’ll not be responsible for myself!” Hammond banged the door shut as they returned to the other room.
Elinor Benton was one of the last witnesses to be examined at the inquest into the death of Templeton Druid. She took the stand, trembling, nervous, and in an apparently dazed condition. She stumbled and faltered over her answers. More than once she had to be reprimanded sharply.
John Hammond was thoroughly exasperated. He knew so well the workings of the girl’s mind. But he saw that the face of every juryman bore a look of pity as he took in the pitiful little figure in black with the sad eyes and the distress over the death of the man she loved so evident, though as evidently torn between that love and the love she felt for her own brother, who had been the cause of the tragedy.
True, Elinor Benton was being true to her promise. She was telling the truth, but as each word came from her tight lips as though forced, telling glances passed between the newspapermen seated at the long table in the center of the room, scribbling for dear life. This was a story something like, those glances said! Aside from Hammond and Howard himself, not one in that packed court room (for the inquest had brought out an eager crowd of morbid curiosity seekers to dip into this scandal which touched the lives of those of high estate) could even guess at the double meaning that was in each word that fell hesitatingly from the society beauty’s lips.
Hammond realized that the best he could do for Howard was to cut short Elinor’s testimony as quickly as possible. But he was not quicker than she. In a moment she had grasped his intention. She wavered for a second, then both hands went to her face and her head bowed forward as she wept silently for a moment. Then she looked up, and it was with stricken eyes and the bewildering despair of a child who did not understand that she hurled the bomb that she knew would bring both brother and mother into the dust. For a moment there was an awed silence. The furious scribbling of the newspaper men could be heard. One of them half stood up as he beckoned to a messenger boy in back of him.
“Here!” he whispered in a rasping voice that cut the stillness. “Shoot this along for the extra. Tell the boss it’s the head!”
From where he stood facing the witness chair, John Hammond caught a glance at the letters that sprawled across the one sheet of copy paper.
SOCIETY GIRL’S TESTIMONY CONVICTS BROTHER
Without another question, John Hammond sat down. The girl had beaten him. For, in that moment of dueling, when the fate of her brother had trembled in the balance, Elinor Benton had looked up with those stricken eyes, those bewildered eyes of a child who did not understand, and her arms had gone out toward her father pleadingly as she wailed; half choked:
“Oh, Daddy! Daddy! I can’t say any more! Please, please, don’t let them ask me any more! I—I—don’t want to incriminate Howard! You warned me to be careful, but you see, they are forcing me to speak!”
At the harsh command of the coroner, Hugh Benton was compelled to explain that his only warning to Elinor had been that she be absolutely truthful.
But Elinor’s victory was complete. The jury returned the verdict of manslaughter.
Elinor sat with her handkerchief to her eyes, her father’s arm protectingly about her. Hammond jumped to his feet and rushed over to her.
“I don’t blame you for weeping, Elinor. Let me congratulate you upon your cleverness!”
“Why Mr. Hammond—I did the best I could! After you and Daddy spoke to me, I thought it over,” Elinor looked up at him, as innocently as a child, “and I decided that you were right. After all, he is my brother—so you heard me tell them. I didn’t want to speak—they forced——”
“Please don’t say another word.” Hammond made no effort to conceal his contempt. “You may have succeeded in fooling a great many people, Elinor, but you could never deceive me. You knew exactly what you were doing, and said just the things you wanted to say, yet you made it appear that every word you uttered was dragged from you. The only regret I have is that Howard ever felt it his duty to defend you. You’re a clever woman of the world, my dear, and you could cope with many a woman of forty, despite your youth—and innocence!”
“Oh, Daddy!” Elinor sobbed as she hid her face in his coat sleeve. “Do you hear what he is saying to me? I—I don’t deserve it!”
“Never mind, dear,” Hugh soothed her, then he turned to Hammond with flashing eyes. “Be careful you don’t go too far, Hammond! I’ve had enough—so has she!”
Howard sat as if stunned. He uttered no word, and he stared at the floor, his eyes riveted upon some invisible object. Elinor and Hugh passed him on their way out.
“I’m sorry about this, Howard,” Hugh said, trying to speak kindly. “But don’t worry—Hammond will get you out of it all right.”
Elinor smiled as she added her mite: “I did the very best I could for you, Howard.”
He didn’t attempt to answer either one of them, and was still staring at nothing, when Hammond touched him on the arm.
“There, there, my boy—you mustn’t allow this to discourage you,” he said cheerfully. “It only means that it will take longer, and put us to a little more trouble, but such evidence can never convict you.”
“I’m not thinking about that, Mr. Hammond—I’m not afraid! I just can’t realize that my sister has really done this terrible thing to me. Why, she didn’t want to have them dismiss me! She was anxious for them to bring in a charge against me! Just think of it—my own sister!”
“It does seem terrible, Howard, but she’ll suffer for it a great deal more than you will. At present her mind is filled with but one thought, and that is, revenge. But it won’t be long before remorse will step in.”
“I can’t understand her still loving that fellow after it has been proven to her that he was a married man,” Howard said wonderingly. “His intentions toward her were not honorable—and she knew it!”
“It’s a strange thing, my boy—but women always seem to love that sort of a man—but it isn’t really love with Elinor. She was infatuated with him true enough, and now she imagines herself the heroine of a tragic love affair. This posing in the limelight isn’t quite as distasteful to her as she would have you think.”
“How was it, Mr. Hammond,” Howard questioned, “that you and I saw through her actions instantly when she was on the stand, and yet dad believed her implicitly, and thought she was hysterical and not accountable for what she was saying?”
Hammond smiled knowingly. “Your father believed her because he wanted to believe her. But now, my boy, we must telephone your mother.”
“Poor mother! Can you imagine the shock this will be to her? She thought it would all be over in a few hours, and now, there may be months of anxiety ahead of her.”
“Oh no,” Hammond hastened to assure him, “it will never take that long. We’ll have it rushed through as expeditiously as possible. Come, boy,” and the hand he laid on the stricken youth’s shoulder held all the gentleness and sympathy the father had denied.
Marjorie was pacing up and down the living room when the summons came. She had passed the never-ending afternoon she knew not how. Half of the time she had spent upon her knees within the sanctuary of her own room, praying as she had not prayed in years. The remainder of the time she had traveled throughout the house, covering an area of miles, it seemed.
She reached the telephone white and trembling. “Yes,” she faltered, her hands shaking so violently she could scarcely hold the receiver to her ear.
“Mrs. Benton,” Hammond’s voice sounded quite cheerful, “we were detained a little longer than I expected. I know you have been waiting to hear from us.”
“Yes—yes—” came the eager voice, “I’m almost wild with anxiety. Is—is everything all right?”
“Why, yes, Mrs. Benton. Everything’s all right, or rather, everything’s going to be all right. The verdict was not exactly what we looked for, but that doesn’t mean a thing outside of a little extra work and inconvenience. There’s not the least necessity for you to worry at all.” He was doing his best to make as light of it as possible.
“What—what was the verdict?” she barely breathed.
It was a second or two before the reply came; then his voice seemed miles away, as he said slowly: “Manslaughter. Here, Mrs. Benton, Howard has something to say to you.” There was no answer. “I say—Mrs. Benton, are you there?” He shook the hook violently. All was silent at the other end of the wire.
Marjorie Benton had slipped quietly to the floor, a little crushed heap of unconsciousness.
Howard snatched the telephone away from Hammond. “Hello, mother, I’m all right. Why don’t you speak? I——”
“What’s the trouble?” the operator cut in. “Didn’t you get your party?”
“Why, yes, I was talking to her—we must have been disconnected.”
“Wait a minute.”
“What is it, do you suppose?” Howard turned anxiously to Hammond.
“You haven’t been disconnected,” Central returned. “They’ve left the receiver off the hook at the other end, and we can’t get a reply.”
“Something’s happened to my mother!” Howard dropped the ’phone to leap for the door. “The shock may have killed her!”
“I’ll go with you, Howard.” Hammond hurried him below to the waiting car. “I don’t believe it’s anything serious. She fainted most likely. Poor little woman!”
All the way home, although the chauffeur exceeded the speed limit at every opportunity, the car, to Howard, seemed actually to crawl.
Marjorie Benton had been picked up by Griggs and the housekeeper, and carefully put to bed. She regained consciousness in time to prevent them from sending for the doctor.
“It’s nothing at all,” she assured them. “I wouldn’t think of having Doctor Morton.”
“But Mrs. Benton!” The housekeeper leaned over her solicitously. “You’re so white, and it was some time before we could bring you around.”
“I’ve been under a terrific strain for some time, Mrs. Williams. This little spell doesn’t mean a thing otherwise than a sort of let-down. All I need is a couple of hours’ rest to set me right.”
“Very well, ma’am,” Mrs. Williams assented. “You’re the best judge, I suppose—although I think you’re a lot sicker than you imagine.”
“Dear, kind Mrs. Williams!” Marjorie smiled gratefully. “Just lower the shades and I’ll try to relax. Only the very moment Mr. Howard comes in, send him to me.”
“Yes, ma’am—just ring if you should need me.” She did as her mistress requested, and left the room, softly closing the door behind her.
Left to herself, the stricken woman buried her head in the pillow and gave free vent to her grief. Her frail body was shaken like a reed, as she went from one paroxysm of convulsive sobbing into another. One word rang in her ears like a death knell—Manslaughter! Manslaughter! She was totally unaware of the opening of the door, until Howard knelt impetuously beside her.
“How are you, mother?” he asked worriedly. “Mrs. Williams tells me you had a severe fainting spell.”
“Oh, my dear! My dear!” She gathered him in her arms, and held him as though she would never let him go again. “I’m—I’m perfectly well now!” With all her might she tried to force a smile through her tears. “But you, dear, are you nervous—or frightened?”
“Why no, mother dear.” (It sounded almost like bravado.) “As far as I’m concerned, I’m as calm as can be! It’s only about you that I’m nervous and worried.”
“Well, you won’t have to be.” She sat up and resolutely brushed the tears from her eyes. “I’ll show you from now on, dear, that I can be just as brave as you.”
“That’s the way to talk.” He kissed her again. “Just make up your mind that there isn’t anything to worry about, and there won’t be! Mr. Hammond says: ‘there are two kinds of people in the world—the negatives and the positives—and the positives always come out on top!’ ”
“There’s a good deal of logic to that, just as there is to everything Mr. Hammond says. What a splendid man he is!” She was fervent in her encomium.
“Indeed he is, and that reminds me,” he said as he placed her gently back among the pillows, “he’s downstairs now. He brought me home when we couldn’t get a response from you at the telephone. I think he was as badly frightened as I.”
“You’ll thank him for me, for his kindness, won’t you, dear? And ask him to pardon me for not coming down? I do feel the need of a little rest—unless it is important for him to see me.”
“Just you rest, dearest! There isn’t a thing for him to see you about now. I’ll come back later and sit beside you, ready to tell you whatever you wish to know.”
She closed her eyes obediently and heaved a little sigh of contentment, as she heard him hurrying down the stairs. It had taken a dreadful crisis to bring her boy to her arms; but the overwhelming joy the knowledge of possessing his love gave her, made all the suffering of years fade into insignificance.