Home > Authors Index > William MacLeod Raine > Big-Town Round-Up > This page
The Big-Town Round-Up, a fiction by William MacLeod Raine |
||
Chapter 37. On The Carpet |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER XXXVII. ON THE CARPET The question at issue was not whether Beatrice would break with her fiance, but in what way it should be done. If her father found him guilty of what Durand had said, he was to dismiss him brusquely; if not, Beatrice wanted to disengage herself gently and with contrition. Whitford summoned Bromfield to his office where the personal equation would be less pronounced. He put to him plainly the charge made by Jerry and demanded an answer. The younger man was between the devil and the deep sea. He would have lied cheerfully if that would have availed. But a denial of the truth of Durand's allegations would be a challenge for him to prove his story. He would take it to the papers and spread it broadcast. From that hour Clarendon Bromfield would be an outcast in the city. Society would repudiate him. His clubs would cast him out. All the prestige that he had built up by a lifetime of effort would be swept away. No lie could save him. The only thing he could do was to sugarcoat the truth. He set about making out a case for himself as skillfully as he could. "I'm a man of the world, Mr. Whitford," he explained. "When I meet an ugly fact I look it in the face. This man Lindsay was making a great impression on you and Bee. Neither of you seemed able quite to realize his--his deficiencies, let us say. I felt myself at a disadvantage with him because he's such a remarkably virile young man and he constantly reminded you both of the West you love. It seemed fair to all of us to try him out--to find out whether at bottom he was a decent fellow or not. So I laid a little trap to find out." Bromfield was sailing easily into his version of the affair. It was the suavest interpretation of his conduct that he had been able to prepare, one that put him in the role of a fair-minded man looking to the best interests of all. "Not the way Durand tells it," answered the miner bluntly. "He says you paid him a thousand dollars to arrange a trap to catch Lindsay." "Either he misunderstood me or he's distorting the facts," claimed the clubman with an assumption of boldness. "That ought to be easy to prove. We'll make an appointment with him for this afternoon and check up by the dictagraph." Bromfield laughed uneasily. "Is that necessary, Mr. Whitford? Surely my word is good. I have the honor to tell you that I did nothing discreditable." "It would have been good with me a week ago," replied the Coloradoan gravely. "But since then--well, you know what's happened since then. I don't want to hurt your feelings, Clarendon, but I may as well say frankly that I can't accept your account without checking up on it. That, however, isn't quite the point. Durand has served notice that unless we call off the prosecution of him he's going to ruin you. Are you satisfied to have us tell him he can go to the devil?" "I wouldn't go that far." Bromfield felt for his words carefully. "Maybe in cold type what I said might be misunderstood. I wouldn't like to push the fellow too far." Whitford leaned back in his swivel chair and looked steadily at the man to whom his daughter was engaged. "I'm going to the bottom of this, Bromfield. That fellow Durand ought to go to the penitentiary. We're gathering the evidence to send him there. Now he tells me he'll drag you down to ruin with him it he goes. Come clean. Can he do it?" "Well, I wouldn't say--" "Don't evade, Bromfield. Yes or no." "I suppose he can." The words came sulkily after a long pause. "You did hire him to destroy Lindsay's reputation." "Lindsay had no business here in New York. He was disturbing Bee's peace of mind. I wanted to get rid of him and send him home." "So you paid a crooked scoundrel who hated him to murder his reputation." "That's not what I call it," defended the clubman. "It doesn't matter what you call it. The fact stands." "I told him explicitly--again and again--that there was to be no violence. I intended only to show him up. I had a right to do it." Whitford got up and walked up and down the room. He felt like laying hands on this well-dressed scamp and throwing him out of the office. He tasted something of his daughter's sense of degradation at ever having been connected with a man of so little character. The experience was a bitterly humiliating one to him. For Bee was, in his opinion, the cleanest, truest little thoroughbred under heaven. The only questionable thing he had ever known her to do was to engage herself to this man. Colin came to a halt in front of the other. "We've got to protect you, no matter how little you deserve it. I can't have Bee's name dragged into all the papers of the country. The case against Durand will have to be dropped. He's lost his power anyhow and he'll never get it back." "Then it doesn't matter much whether he's tried or not." That phase of the subject Whitford did not pursue. He began to feel in his vest pocket for something. "Of course you understand that we're through with you, Bromfield. Neither Beatrice nor I care to have anything more to do with you." "I don't see why," protested Bromfield. "As a man of the world--" "If you don't see the reason I'm not able to explain it to you." Whitford's fingers found what they were looking for. He fished a ring from his pocket and put it on the desk. "Beatrice asked me to give you this." "I don't think that's fair. If she wants to throw me over she ought to tell me her reasons herself." "She's telling them through me. I don't want to be more explicit unless you force me." "Of course I'm not good enough. I know that. No man's good enough for a good woman. But I'm as good as other fellows. We don't claim to be angels. New York doesn't sprout wings." "I'm not going to argue this with you. And I'm not going to tell you what I think of you beyond saying that we're through with you. The less said about it the better. Man, don't you see I don't want to have any more talk about it? The engagement was a mistake in the first place. Bee never loved you. Even if you'd been what we thought you, it wouldn't have done. She's lucky to have found out in time." "Is this a business rupture, too, Mr. Whitford?" "Just as you say about that, Bromfield. As an investor in the Bird Cage you're entitled to the same consideration that any other stockholder is. Since you're the second largest owner you've a right to recognition on the board of directors. I'm not mixing my private affairs with business." "Good of you, Mr. Whitford." The younger man spoke with a hint of gentle sarcasm. He flicked a speck of dirt from his coat-sleeve and returned to the order of the day. "I understand then that you'll drop the case against Durand on condition that he'll surrender anything he may have against me and agree to keep quiet." "Yes. I think I can speak for Lindsay. So far most of the evidence is in our hands. It is not yet enough to convict him. We can probably arrange it with the district attorney to have the thing dropped. You can make your own terms with Durand. I'd rather not have anything to do with it myself." Bromfield rose, pulled on the glove he had removed, nodded good-bye without offering to shake hands, and sauntered out of the office. There was a look on his face the mining man did not like. It occurred to Whitford that Clarendon, now stripped of self-respect by the knowledge of the regard in which they held him, was in a position to strike back hard if he cared to do so. The right to vote the proxies of the small stockholders of the Bird Cage Company had been made out in his name at the request of the president of the corporation. _ |
||