CHAPTER XXIX
ZELDA FACES A CRISIS
Morris expected Rodney Merriam to manifest wrath and indignation at the recital of Ezra Dameron’s ill-doing, but the old gentleman in Seminary Square listened in silence, and at the end, with something more than his usual urbanity, asked Morris to have a cigar. He filled a cob pipe for himself, however, and this was always a sign, Morris had observed, of inward perturbation.
“Well, what are we going to do about it?” asked Merriam, presently.
“That’s the rub—there’s not much of anything that you can do. The trust is a wide-open thing. He isn’t required to report to anybody and he gives no bond; but he must get the court’s approval before he sells anything; and then he must reinvest the money in other realty. It is significant that he has been selling at desperate prices toward the end of his trusteeship. He must be hard up.”
Merriam had never spoken of his brother-in-law to Leighton except in terms of respect, and he hesitated now.
“My sister’s idea in making that will,” he began quietly, “was to deal generously with a blackguard. It was her pride. She had made a mistake.”
He paused and the blood rushed to his face. He was checking his wrath with difficulty.
“He had ruined her life. We were all opposed to her marrying Ezra Dameron; but she was not a child, but a grown woman. She left her property to Zelda through him; and she wouldn’t admit to the rest of us, even at the end, that she did not trust him. She doubtless thought his avarice would protect her child.”
He blurted this out fiercely, with a certain shamefacedness, and then paused abruptly and stared at Leighton. Why, he asked himself, was he speaking thus to the son of Morris Leighton!
The situation angered him and his wrath kindled again as his memory swept the past; but he controlled himself, and bent forward in his chair.
“Morris, I’m not at all surprised or disappointed in him. I have never, at any time since Zee came home, had the slightest idea that her father would ever be able to turn over her property. I’ve been curious to know just what excuse he would offer for failing to settle on the day appointed. And I have hoped that he would fail,—that’s the truth about it. I have hoped that if he were to prove himself a thief I might get Zee to leave him. It hasn’t, perhaps, been creditable to my sense of Christian duty that I have felt so; but I have wanted to get that reptile at my mercy. I should like to show him mercy; it would be a revenge worth living for,—to be merciful to that ugly hypocrite. Now, just what has Ezra been doing?”
And as the old man relighted his pipe, its bowl spurted angry flashes.
“He’s been speculating in one thing and another. I don’t know to what extent, but that’s what Copeland tells me. He has a way of knowing things, you know. It was he that told me of the sale of those lots.”
Merriam threw back his head and laughed in a very disagreeable way.
“A gambler! Ezra a gambler! Well, I’ll be damned! I suppose, Morris, that where a doctor knows that a man has inherited some sort of poison that lies dormant in the blood, he constantly expects it to manifest itself. He can’t tell just how it will break out, but he knows that it will come; and some day he sees the first signs of it, probably with a satisfaction in the thought that the business of nature proceeds so inexorably. That’s the way I have felt about Ezra Dameron. I knew the yellow streak was in him and that it would show up some day; but I’ll be damned if I thought the bucket shops would get him.” And Rodney Merriam laughed again in a way that made Leighton uncomfortable.
“Now, Morris, if you have anything to propose, we’ll consider it.”
“As near as I can make out, all the property that Mr. Dameron will be able to turn over to his daughter will be the farm out here and the old homestead and the creek property. He sold the Dameron Block about two months ago. He has sold the original holdings and he has not bought any other real property with the money, as the will provided. There is, you know, no penalty for a non-performance of the obligations of the trust. His needs have undoubtedly grown quite recently, for he has been doing business with Balcomb,—fooling away the property. Maybe he’s insane!”
“Don’t be a fool; he’s sane enough; he’s a thief, that’s all!” declared Rodney, irascibly.
“If Miss Dameron wished to take advantage of her rights she might have this last sale set aside. I will undertake to do that.”
“And a nice lot of publicity we’d get out of it, too. No, sir, we won’t do that sort of business. My family has lived in this town a good many years; and some of us have been fools, and some of us have failed; but Zelda has the right key. She’s pitched it pretty high; but we’ll keep it at the same note, if we can. How much did he get for those lots?”
“Twenty thousand dollars; but no doubt my friend Balcomb kept a handsome commission. I’ll rather enjoy settling with him.”
“He’s one of the jewels produced by our college, isn’t he?”
“He was the bright particular star of my class. He was well fitted by nature to be a clerk in a rural general store, or more likely, a barker for a circus side-show or the advance agent for a hair tonic. His education ruined him. He has the smooth facility of the superficial mind,—even showed some literary gift, and wrote the best essays in the class.”
“I know the type. A short horse, soon curried.”
“There’s the option on that piece of ground out on the creek. It might possibly be binding on Miss Dameron after the trusteeship has been closed. Balcomb’s pretty smooth, and if the old man is in straits, you can’t tell what he’ll do.”
“Let him blow it all in, Morris. I shall be disappointed if there’s a cent left. He can have the money. I want the girl!”
Rodney Merriam
“Balcomb is undoubtedly swindling his associates in the land company; they are quite likely to squeal. Balcomb wouldn’t hesitate about throwing the blame for any irregularity on Dameron.”
“Let him do it. What do we care for Dameron!”
“But I thought you wanted to avoid a scandal, for Miss Dameron’s sake,—for all your sakes.”
“Yes; to be sure,” responded Merriam, more tamely. “Balcomb’s pretty crooked, I’ve no doubt, but he couldn’t have taught Ezra Dameron any cussedness. You needn’t try to mitigate this thing.”
“You know I’m not trying to. I want to do the best thing and the right thing. You are not anxious for publicity.”
“Most certainly not.”
“We’ve got to approach Miss Dameron, and tell her the whole matter. It is not a pleasant thing to do, but if we get her help—if that should seem the best way—”
They were deeply engrossed and did not hear the bell or the Japanese boy opening the front door.
“Uncle Rodney!”
Both men sprang to their feet. Zelda stood in the library door.
“Glad to see you, Zee,” said her uncle, quietly.
She looked from one to the other and nodded to Morris.
“You don’t look so awfully glad, I must say. If I’ve come in upon a conspiracy I’ll take myself off. The gloom here is so thick you could grow mushrooms in it.”
“I’m glad you happened in, Zee. There’s something I wish to speak to you about. We may as well discuss it now; and if it’s agreeable to you, I should like Mr. Leighton to stay. It’s a legal matter that we may want him to advise us about.”
“You have a serious air. I hope you haven’t been breaking any laws, you two. Certainly, Mr. Leighton may stay.”
“Sit down, Morris,” said Merriam, deliberately.
Zelda had taken a chair in the corner away from the smoldering fire, and Merriam found the chair that he liked least, with an unformed idea that such self-immolation fitted him better for an unpleasant task. He did not begin immediately, and while he collected his thoughts Zelda watched him with amusement.
“If you knew how funny you look, Uncle Rodney, I’m sure you’d laugh. And you seem a little ultra-serious, too, Mr. Leighton. Please, uncle, don’t scold me!”
“Yes. Yes, to be sure,” said Merriam, absent-mindedly, and Leighton and Zelda exchanged a smile.
“I want to speak to you about your property. There are some things connected with your affairs that you must know.”
“But father attends to everything—you’ll certainly waste your talents on me. Do let us talk of something cheerful.”
But her uncle went on now, and she listened attentively.
“You know that your property, what your mother had and wished to give to you, was left in trust. Your father is the trustee.”
“Yes, I know that.”
She bent forward in her chair, her hands clasped in her lap. She was wholly composed and heedful.
“Your father’s powers have been absolute. He is not required to give an accounting to any one—except, of course, to you, when he turns over the property on your birthday—that is, to-morrow.”
“Yes, I believe to-morrow is the first of October. I understand perfectly that mother wished me to know that she trusted father,—as she expected me to trust him. That is all very simple.”
There was a little sting in this, as though she knew what was coming and wished to warn her uncle to desist. He shot a sharp glance at the girl from his black eyes and went on, patiently and kindly.
“That is all very well. Everything was left to your father’s discretion, but there were a few minor requirements. In case he should sell real estate, he was to get the approval of the court; and he was to buy other real estate with whatever he realized.”
“That’s probably important, but not amusing. I really dropped in to ask what you were going to give me for my birthday. I’m almost sorry I came.”
“Your father has sold some of the real estate—”
“Of course. You escape a lot of trouble by not having real estate, so father says,—taxes and all that. But once more, pardon me!”
The color was dying out of her face and she twisted her fingers together nervously. Her heart was beating fiercely. It had come at last,—this hour in which she must face an attack upon her father. She had known that it would come, and she knew that she should meet it. It angered her that the terms her uncle used were unfamiliar. Law and business were unknown worlds to her. She again followed her uncle’s recital closely; he was speaking with a sharp precision that he had never used before in talking to her.
“Your father has sold a great deal of your property,” he repeated; “and it appears that through neglect,”—he hesitated—“or forgetfulness, the court’s approval was not secured in at least one case. Of course, this can be corrected.”
He waited, to study his ground a little, and he glanced at Leighton, as though to make sure that the young man had not deserted him.
“Father is a little forgetful sometimes,” said Zelda. “He isn’t a young man, you must remember.” The sympathy with which she spoke made Merriam uncomfortable; and Leighton moved uneasily. It was not a pleasant task,—that of telling a young woman that her father was a rascal.
“But while the order of court can be procured and injury to the purchaser prevented, there is another side of the matter that we must consider.”
“Yes, uncle,”—and she smiled a little forlornly. She knew that she should meet the blow bravely when it fell; but it hurt her now to feel her uncle’s kindness.
“It hurts me,—Zelda, it hurts me more than I can tell you, to have to say that all is not quite clear about this transaction. Your father has sold at an extraordinary price. I fear that he is in difficulties. In this real estate matter you have your remedy. It is of this that I wish to speak particularly. It is only right that I should protect you if I can.”
“You are very kind; you are always good to me, Uncle Rodney.”
“The failure to get the court’s approval of the sale of the real estate makes it possible for us to save it—this one piece, maybe, though nearly all the rest is gone—to get it back, perhaps. The situation is not agreeable. Your father received the money and I am afraid he has made—at least we are led to suspect—that he has made—ill use of it. But we may find it possible to set this sale aside, or get an additional sum from the purchaser,—”
Merriam was looking intently at the floor as he spoke these sentences. He was aware suddenly that Zelda had risen and crossed the room until she stood before him, with flaming cheeks and flashing eyes. He unconsciously rose and drew away from her. It seemed to Leighton that the air in the room grew tense. The girl stood between the two men, her lips parted, one hand on the back of a chair.
“Uncle Rodney, I never thought that you would—insult me—in your own house—under the pretense of kindness! I should like to know what you gentlemen mean, and what you think I am—that I should listen to such things from you! To think that I should be willing to take advantage of the law to defraud some one, on the theory that my father was defrauding me—stealing from me, I suppose you mean!”
“Zee, one moment—”
“No, sir! I shall hear no more from you. I never want to see you again,—either of you!” She had spoken brokenly, and the last three words came slowly, with a kind of hiss. “But before I go, I wish to say something to you, to ease your feelings of pity for me. It was by my request—and by my order—that father sold that property; and he gave me the money—do you understand?—gave me the money for it—and I have spent it—all of it!”
She was gone so quickly that the front door slammed on her last word, as though to add to the contempt that it carried.
Merriam ran into the hall, calling her name, but when he opened the door the iron gate was swinging violently, and she was walking rapidly away. Leighton seized his coat and hat in the hall and sped after her.
“Bring her back!” the old man roared after him.
“Miss Dameron, I’m sorry: I am sure—”
“Will you kindly stop following me?” she said, wheeling upon Morris, and then she turned and continued her flight; but Morris followed. Zelda continued straight ahead and did not look back or speak to him again, though she knew that he was behind her.
She continued up High Street to a cross-town thoroughfare that led to the old Merriam house. There was something wholly uncompromising in her walk; and her spirit, Morris declared to himself, was equally unyielding. Her assumption of responsibility for her father’s acts had amazed him, and in the cool air of the autumn evening he debated with himself as to how much, if anything, she really knew of Ezra Dameron’s affairs. It was a fine thing for her to have swept aside her uncle’s charges, and her words repeated themselves over and over again in his mind with thrilling effect. If it was merely a blind defense, to give her time for thought or inquiry, she had managed it with amazing dash.
When she reached the old house, Zelda ran up the steps, and pulled the bell. She did not turn her head, but Leighton stood, feeling the least bit foolish, until the door opened and Zelda disappeared within.