Blow the Man Down, Holman Day [e ink epub reader TXT] 📗

it!" Marston repeated the last phrase several times with increasing violence. He pushed his daughter off the arm of the chair and struggled up. Only heroic measures could save that situation--and the girl knew her father! She forced herself between him and his desk.
"You'd better listen!" she warned him, hysterically. "A few days ago I ran away to be married!"
He stood there, stricken motionless, and she put her hands against his breast and pressed him back into his chair.
"But this is not the man, father!"
Marston had been gathering his voice for wild invective, but that last statement took away all his power of speech.
"I warned you that you'd better listen!"
In that moment she dominated the situation as completely as if she stood between the two men with a lighted bomb in her hand.
Mayo was overwhelmed even more completely than the financier. He realized that her extortion of a pledge from him had been subterfuge; her triumphant eyes flashed complete information on that point. Both anger and bewilderment made him incapable of any sane attempt to press his case with Marston at that time. He turned and started for the door.
"Stop that man, father. You'll be sorry if you do not! He must stay!"
"Come back here!" shouted Marston.
Mayo looked behind.
The magnate stood with finger on the push-button. "Come back, I say!"
"I protest. This is none of my business. I am here for something else than to listen to your daughter's private affairs."
"You come back!" commanded the father in low tones of menace, "or I'll have you held for the United States marshals the minute you step foot outside that door."
Raging within himself at the tactics of this incomprehensible girl, Captain Mayo walked slowly to the desk; it occurred to him that it was as hard to get out of Julius Marston's office as it was to get in.
"I would never have come in here if I had dreamed that your daughter would tell you what she has. I am in a false position. I insist that you allow me to leave."
"You'll leave when I get to the bottom of this thing! Now, Alma, what new craziness is all this?"
"I am not resenting the word you apply to it," she replied, facing him resolutely. "I did it--and I don't know why I did it!"
"Did what?"
"I ran away. I did it because the girls dared me to do it. I promised a man I would marry him."
"This man, eh?"
"No. I have told you this is not the man."
"Well, who, then?" Incredulity was mingled with her father's wrath.
"One of your trusted young gentlemen. Mr. Ralph Bradish."
"Where did you meet him?"
"At the dances."
"Not at our house?"
"I do not know how you are so sure of that, father," she returned, a touch of rather wistful reproach in her tones. "You have left me alone in that house ever since mother went away. But it was not at our house--it was in the public ball-rooms."
"Hell set to music!" he rasped. "I ought to have realized that you are still an infant!"
"No; I am a woman to-day. I lived a whole lifetime in one night on the ocean. I know you have reason to be ashamed of me. But I'll never give you cause for shame again. Now what are you going to say to this man who saved my life--who did more than that? He saved me from myself!"
Marston narrowed his eyes and scrutinized Mayo. "I don't understand this thing yet! The story doesn't ring right." He turned on his daughter. "How did this man save your life? Be quick and be short!"
He interrupted her in the middle of her eager recital. He had been scowling while she talked, staring into vacancy in meditation.
"A story-book tale!" he declared, impatiently, and yet there was a shade of insincerity in that impatience. "I would be bitterly ashamed of you, Alma, if you had run away as you are trying to make me believe. But--"
"Don't you believe me?"
"Silence! But this trumped-up story is too transparent. You are still acting the fool in the matter of this person, here. Now see here, my man, you are here to-day on the _Montana_ affair. Isn't that so?"
"It is, sir."
"I was sure of it. How did you dare to sneak into that job after I had discharged you from the _Olenia_?"
"There was no sneaking to it! I was hired by Mr. Fogg and I--"
"You may be sure that I did not know you were on board the _Montana_. But I cannot attend to all the details of my business. You realize, don't you, that you are a fugitive from justice?"
"I am a scapegoat for the dirty dogs who operate for you!"
"That's enough! I am investigating this matter now? Sit down in that chair!"
Mayo obeyed, lulled by the assurance.
"Alma, you go home!"
"I am going to stay here, father, until Captain Mayo--"
"I have listened to all the falsehoods I propose to hear!" This rejoinder astounded his two listeners. "I see into this matter clear to the bottom. I am amazed that you should think such a silly yarn would deceive me for a moment." He had pressed one of the buttons. To the man who opened the door he said: "Tell Mr. Bradish that I want to see him here at once. He is in the office, isn't he?"
"Yes, sir! I will inform him."
Mayo and the girl exchanged eloquent looks; they had been leaving Mr. Bradish out of their calculations; they had discarded him from their thoughts; that he had had the effrontery to reappear in the Marston & Waller offices was news indeed.
Marston took the girl by the arm and led her toward a door. "I tell you to go home!" he cried, angrily, stopping her protests. "No, you are going by this side door. I do not believe one word you have told me. It's all a transparent attempt to continue your folly. I'll know how to look after you from now on!" He closed the door behind her and locked it.
"I swear this is all true, sir," pleaded Mayo. "I'm not trying to deceive you through your daughter. I did not understand what she intended to say. I want my rights as a man who has been tricked, abused--"
Mr. Bradish appeared, bowing respectfully. He was once more part of the smooth machinery of the Marston & Waller offices. He was pale, calm, cool, subdued master of his emotions as the employees of Julius Marston were trained to be.
"Did you ever see this man before? Of course you never did!" prompted the financier.
"I never saw him before, sir."
"Certainly not! What have you to say to the ridiculous, nonsensical story that you attempted to elope with my daughter?"
Not by a flicker of the eyelids did the imperturbable maker of million-dollar checks show confusion.
"If such a lie needs denial from me I most firmly do deny it, sir."
"You cheap renegade!" roared the captain.
"That will do, Mr. Bradish!"
The clerk obeyed the wave of his master's hand and retired quickly.
"Mr. Marston," raved Mayo, "I'm fighting for all that's worth while to me in life. My reputation as a master mariner, my chance to make a living in my work. I was a fool on board your yacht! With all my soul I am penitent. I will-"
"Enough! Don't you dare to discuss my own daughter with me!"
"I don't intend to, sir. I'm going to believe that you don't know what your understrappers have done to me. You only see results. But find out what is being done in your name, Mr. Marston. Some day it will be bad for you if you don't stop 'em."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's only my appeal for justice. My God, sir--"
"There's justice waiting for you."
"Then send out for your marshals. Let them drag me into court! Your man Bradigh's mouth is closed now, but it has been open. I know what has been done to me. Let them put me on the stand. You don't dare to have me stand up in court and tell what I know."
"Do you suppose I am running the Federal courts?"
"You'd better find out whether you have power or not. There are men in this world who will believe an honest man's true story!"
"Good day!" said Mr. Marston, significantly.
Mayo hesitated, gazed into the impassive countenance of the magnate, and then conviction of the uselessness of argument overwhelmed him. He started for the door.
"Certain sensible things can be done," Marston called after him. "You'd better get out of New York. If you know of a place to hide you'd better get into it."
Mayo did not reply. He strode out through the offices, descended to the street, and went on his way.
He did not notice that an automobile pursued him through the roaring traffic of the streets, halting ahead of him when, he had turned into one of the quieter thoroughfares.
The car was close to the curb, and Alma Marston put out her hand and signaled to him. "He gave-you no hope-nothing?"
"Nothing!"
"I have waited. I thought of asking you to come for a talk with me."
He shook his head.
"Perhaps it's better as it is! There isn't very much to be said-not now!" She leaned over the side of the tonneau and the clatter of traffic enabled her to talk without taking the eavesdropping chauffeur into their confidence. "I am not worthy of your thoughts or your confidence after this, Boyd. What I was yesterday I am not to-day; I have told you that. No, do not say anything! I know, now, that I was only playing with love. I cannot name what I feel for you now; I have insulted the word 'love' too much in the past. I'm not going to say anything about it. Was it any excuse for me that you had sunk a ship, were going to prison for killing men, so the papers hinted? No, it was not! But I allowed myself to make it an excuse for folly."
"You don't know what love is," he declared. In the agony of his degradation he had no relish for softer sentiments. But he did not dare to look up at her.
"I _did_ not know! But perhaps some day I can show you that I do now know," she replied, humbly. "That will be the day when I can give you the proofs against the men who have tried to ruin you. I am inside the camp of your enemies, Boyd, and I'll give you those proofs--even against my own father, if he is guilty. That's all! Let's wait. But while you are working I hope it's going to give you a bit of courage to know that I am working for you!" She patted his cheek. "Go on!" she called to her driver. The car jerked forward and was hidden among the chariots roaring down through the modern Babylon.
Without power for self-analysis, without being able to penetrate the inner recesses of his own soul in that crisis, he trudged on.
A little later, almost unconscious of volition in the matter, he found himself at a steamboat office buying a ticket. He was going back to the obscurity of Maquoit. But he was fully conscious that he was not obeying Julius Marston's injunction to go and hide. A deeper sentiment was drawing him. He knew where there existed simple faith in him and affection for him, and he craved that solace. There were humble folks in Maquoit who would welcome him.
"I'll go back--I'll go home," he said. Once he would have smiled at the thought that he would ever