Kennedy Square Part 24

"Let us change the subject, Talbot, or we will both forget ourselves.

If you have anything to say to me that will benefit Harry and settle the difficulty between him and you, I will meet you more than half-way, but I give you fair warning that the apology must come from you. You have--if you will permit me to say it in my own house--behaved more like a brute than a father. I told you so the night you turned him out in the rain for me to take care of, and I told you so again at the club when you tried to make a laughing-stock of him before your friends--and now I tell you so once more! Come!--let us drop the subject--what may I offer you to drink?--you must be rather chilled with your ride in."

Rutter was about to flare out a denial when his better judgment got the best of him; some other tactics than the ones he had used must be brought into play. So far he had made but little headway against Temple's astounding coolness.

"And I am to understand, then, that you are going to keep him here?"

he demanded, ignoring both his host's criticisms and his proffered hospitality.

"I certainly am"--he was abreast of him now, his eyes boring into his--"just as long as he wishes to stay, which I hope will be all his life, or until you have learned to be decent to him. And by decency, I mean companions.h.i.+p, and love, and tenderness--three things which your d.a.m.ned, high-toned notions have always deprived him of!" His voice was still under control, although the emphasis was unmistakable.

Rutter made a step forward, his eyes flas.h.i.+ng, his teeth set:

"You have the impertinence, sir, to charge me with----"

"--Yes!--and it's true and you know it's true!"--the glance, steady as a rifle, had not wavered. "No, you needn't work yourself up into a pa.s.sion--and as for your lordly, dictatorial airs, I am past the age when they affect me--keep them for your servants. By G.o.d!--what a farce it all is! Let us talk of something else--I am tired of it!"

The words cut like a whip, but the Lord of Moorlands had come to get his son, not to fight St. George. Their sting, however, had completely changed his plans. Only the club which Gorsuch had put into his hands would count now.

"Yes--a d.a.m.nable farce!" he thundered, "and one played by a man with beggary staring him straight in the face, and yet to hear you talk one would think you were a Croesus! You mortgaged this house to get ready money, did you not?" He was not sure, but this was no time in which to split words.

St. George turned quickly: "Who told you that?"

"Is it true?"

"Yes! Do you suppose I would let Harry sneak around corners to avoid his creditors?"

The colonel gave an involuntary start, the blood mounting to the roots of his hair, and as suddenly paled:

"You tell me that--you dared to--pay Harry's debts?" he stammered in amazement.

"Dared!" retorted St. George, lifting his chin contemptuously. "Really, Talbot, you amuse me. When you set that dirty hound Gadgem on his trail, what did you expect me to do?--invite the dog to dinner?--or have him sleep in the house until I sold furniture enough to get rid of him?"

The colonel leaned back against the mantel's edge as if for support.

All the fight was out of him. Not only was the situation greatly complicated, but he himself was his host's debtor. The seriousness of the whole affair confronted him. For a brief instant he gazed at the floor, his eyes on the hearthrug, "Have you any money left, St. George?"

he asked. His voice was subdued enough now. Had he been his solicitor he could not have been more concerned.

"Yes, a few thousand," returned St. George. He saw that some unexpected shot had hit the colonel, but he did not know he had fired it.

"Left over from the mortgage, I suppose?--less what you paid out for Harry?"

"Yes, left over from the mortgage, less what I paid Gadgem," he bridled.

"If you have brought any more of Harry's bills hand them out. Why the devil you ask, Talbot, is beyond my ken, but I have no objection to your knowing."

Rutter waved his hand impatiently, with a deprecating gesture; such trifles were no longer important.

"You bank with the Patapsco, do you not?" he asked calmly. "Answer me, please, and don't think I'm trying to pry into your affairs. The matter is much more serious than you seem to think." The tone was so sympathetic that St. George looked closer into his antagonist's face, trying to read the cause.

"Always with the Patapsco. I have kept my account there for years," he rejoined simply. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because it has closed its doors--or will in a few hours. It is bankrupt!"

There was no malice in his tone, nor any note of triumph. That St.

George had beggared himself to pay his son's debts had wiped that clear.

He was simply announcing a fact that caused him the deepest concern.

St. George's face paled, and for a moment a peculiar choking movement started in his throat.

"Bankrupt!--the Patapsco! How do you know?" He had heard some ugly rumors at the club a few days before, but had dismissed them as part of Harding's croakings.

"John Gorsuch received a letter last night from one of the directors; there is no doubt of its truth. I have suspected its condition for some time, so has Gorsuch. This brought me here. You see now how impossible it is for my son to be any longer a burden on you."

St. George walked slowly across the room and drawing out a chair settled himself to collect his thoughts the better;--he had remained standing as the better way to terminate the interview should he be compelled to exercise that right. The two announcements had come like successive blows in the face. If the news of the bank's failure was true he was badly, if not hopelessly, crippled--this, however, would wait, as nothing he might do could prevent the catastrophe. The other--Harry's being a burden to him--must be met at once.

He looked up and caught the colonel's eye scrutinizing his face.

"As to Harry's being a burden," St. George said slowly, his lip curling slightly--"that is my affair. As to his remaining here, all I have to say is that if a boy is old enough to be compelled to pay his debts he is old enough to decide where he will live. You have yourself established that rule and it will be carried out to the letter."

Rutter's face hardened: "But you haven't got a dollar in the world to spare!"

"That may be, but it doesn't altar the situation; it rather strengthens it." He rose from his chair: "I think we are about through now, Talbot, and if you will excuse me I'll go down to the bank and see what is the matter. I will ring for Todd to bring your hat and coat." He did not intend to continue the talk. There had just been uncovered to him a side of Talbot Rutter's nature which had shocked him as much as had the threatened loss of his money. To use his poverty as a club to force him into a position which would be dishonorable was inconceivable in a man as well born as his antagonist, but it was true: he could hardly refrain from telling him so. He had missed, it may be said, seeing another side--his visitor's sympathy for him in his misfortune. That, unfortunately, he did not see: fate often plays such tricks with us all.

The colonel stepped in front of him: his eyes had an ugly look in them--the note of sympathy was gone.

"One moment, St. George! How long you are going to keep up this fool game, I don't know; but my son stays here on one condition, and on one condition only, and you might as well understand it now. From this time on I pay his board. Do you for one instant suppose I am going to let you support him, and you a beggar?"

St. George made a lunge toward the speaker as if to strike him. Had Rutter fired point-blank at him he could not have been more astounded.

For an instant he stood looking into his face, then whirled suddenly and swung wide the door.

"May I ask you, Talbot, to leave the room, or shall I? You certainly cannot be in your senses to make me a proposition like that. This thing has got to come to an end, and NOW! I wish you good-morning."

The colonel lifted his hands in a deprecatory way.

"As you will, St. George."

And without another word the baffled autocrat strode from the room.

CHAPTER XVII

There was no one at home when Harry returned except Todd, who, having kept his position outside the dining-room door during the heated encounter, had missed nothing of the interview. What had puzzled the darky--astounded him really--was that no pistol-shot had followed his master's denouncement and defiance of the Lord of Moorlands. What had puzzled him still more was hearing these same antagonists ten minutes later pa.s.sing the time o' day, St. George bowing low and the colonel touching his hat as he pa.s.sed out and down to where Matthew and his horses were waiting.

It was not surprising, therefore, that Todd's recital to Harry came in a more or less disjointed and disconnected form.

"You say, Todd," he exclaimed in astonishment, "that my father was here!" Our young hero was convinced that the visit did not concern himself, as he was no longer an object of interest to any one at home except his mother and Alec.

"Dat he was, sah, an' b'ilin' mad. Dey bofe was, on'y Ma.r.s.e George lay low an' de colonel purty nigh rid ober de top ob de fence. Fust Ma.r.s.e George sa.s.s him an' den de colonel sa.s.s him back. Purty soon Ma.r.s.e George say he gwinter speak his min'--and he call de colonel a brute an'