Page:Scribners Magazine volume 27.djvu/260

 was ashen gray and his voice shook. His hat was on and he was about to go. He knew that what he did to hush the scandal must be done quickly, and that with all the work before him for the coming five hours he could not be handicapped with the bonds. He pointed to the valise and said to the woman, huskily: "I'll leave that here. Take it to your room and keep it locked up. It's got some valuable papers in it. Don't let any one touch it."

He started away and answered her protesting gesture with: "Yes, I got to." She noticed that he tottered a little at first, but seemed to walk steadily when he reached the sidewalk, and boarded the car before it had fully stopped.

By half-past eight that night Senator Wharton had done several important things, to wit: He had made an engagement by telephone with Williams, the president of the new Consolidated Electric Company; sent a messenger-boy to his wife telling her not to expect to see him that night; devoured a thick and greasy porterhouse steak garnished with an enormous quantity of Saratoga chips; and consumed a pint of whiskey. As the clock was marking the half-hour the bartender at Chamberlain's was mixing for Wharton his second absinthe cocktail, and the liquor had put the Senator into fine form and high spirits. It was a beautiful June night when he got into a landau and directed the driver to a house in Chevy Chase. Wharton lolled in the seat with his two arms sprawled over the cushion, his hat tilted back and the cigar in his mouth angling upward reflectively. He intended to play his favorite game, and by the force of arrogant insistence and domineering threats of utter destruction he expected to bring the president of the Consolidated Company to terms. Wharton's terms were these: First, the interview in the Star must be denied; second, the Wharton shares in the Suburban Company must be recognized in the consolidation; third, as a reparation for damages done by the Star's interview Wharton must be given at least a temporary place in the Consolidated Company's directorate. It was an old game with Wharton, and he had learned long since that the higher the stakes the more likelihood he had of winning. He jabbed the electric button in the door of Williams's house with a stiff, fat forefinger, and tried to put some of his boiling rage into this greeting. A servant explained that Mr. Williams was busy, and took Wharton into a reception-parlor. Wharton fancied, as he sat waiting on the edge of a chair, that he could hear men laughing in some distant room of the house. The iron rattle of a voice that sounded like Felt's invaded the recesses of Wharton's consciousness and hurt him like a sword twisting in his vitals. Five minutes, ten minutes passed; twenty minutes dragged by, and he began pacing the floor like a caged jackal. The room was close, and as Wharton's rage mounted his collar wilted. He turned to leave the house in a fury. He saw the servant and sent up a second card to Williams. The servant brought back word that Mr. Williams would be at leisure in fifteen minutes.

Wharton entered Williams's smoking-room with a burst of profanity. Williams, who was alone in the room writing a letter, did not look up, but said:

"Be careful, sir, there are women in the house."

In the minute that followed Wharton executed a sort of war-dance before his host and chanted a bill of wrongs and a defy. He ended by thumping the writing-table and glaring at Williams.

"Won't you sit down?" asked Williams as he folded his letter and addressed the envelope. Wharton dropped into a chair and Williams continued: "I fancied you'd be out to-night, Senator, even before you telephoned. I broke a social engagement this afternoon that I might be with you to-night."

"I'm sorry I spoiled any of your infernal drop-the-handkerchief orgies," retorted Wharton, unbuttoning his vest and changing his position in the leather chair.

Williams was a small, gray-haired man, with a sallow skin at least three sizes too large for his face. His beady, black eyes glittered as he went on, ignoring Wharton's demands: "We thought you were good for that $75,000, when we arranged the matter this morning. You probably value your reputation a little higher than $75,000, and we knew it would be safe to let you have the money temporarily without security. We also desired to have a