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But the presence of well-dressed, attractive womanhood is so „unusual in the annals of the rotunda of the court-house . . .
See page 17
THE WEB
FREDERICK TREVOR HILL
Illustrated by A.J. KELLER
LONDON
WN HEINEMANN
15 0 3
BRACOWNIA ZŁOTNICZA
Piotr Zimny
; ul. Gtkitixka
I w budynku leczniey dla zwierząt) 48-100 GŁUBCZYCE
This Edition enjoys Copyright in all Countries signatory to the Bernt Treaty, and is not to be imported into the United States of America
Printed by Manhattan Press, New York., U. S. A.
uo s. 49. e.
CONTENTS
i.
ii.
in.
IV.
v.
VI.
VII.
VIII.
IX.
X.
XI.
XII.
XIII.
XIV.
XV.
XVI.
XVII.
XVIII.
XIX.
XX.
XXI.
PAGE
3 16 26 34 45 53 6o 67 75 84 9°
97 102 109 114 121 127 133 141 150 156
CONTENTS—Continued
chapter Page
XXII...165
XXIII ...I73 XXIV ... 181
XXV...187
XXVI... 196
XXVII...205
XXVIII...211
XXIX...222
XXX. . . '...231
XXXI... 241
XXXII...249
XXXIII... 265
XXXIV... 27s XXXV... 28s XXXVI... 297
XXXVII... 309
XXXVIII... 318
XXXIX... 329
XL...336
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
“But the presence of well-dressed, attractive womanhood isso unusual in the annals of the rotunda of thecourt-house”. . . Frontispiece
PACING PAGR
“ ‘ Do I understand that you rest your case, Mister—er Counsellor?’ ‘No, sir; I retire
from the room.’” ... 14
“‘I’ll keep it to crown my client’s victory and claim my reward at the same time.’” . 92
“‘Can you call yourself a man,’ she continued,
‘and consent to do the bidding of that piti
ful wretch?’”...138
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CHAPTER I
J
UDGE OSTERFIELD’S court-room was stifling with the windows closed, and draughty the moment they were opened.The choice of these evils resulted in an atmos
phere which varied from stuffy to poisonous, according to the season. In winter, visitors coughed and complained of an indescribable odour; in summer, they not infrequently fainted.
But these were the delicate, sensitive sort. The vast majority soon forgot their uncomfortable surroundings in listening to the proceedings, which seldom lacked excitement when the Honourable Tanner Osterfield occupied the bench.
A man and a woman who had hurriedly crossed the rotunda paused before Judge Osterfield’s court late one afternoon in June and gazed anxiously through the oval glass panels of the swing-doors as though undecided whether to enter or not. The hot sunlight streaming through the long, curtainless, tightly closed windows, and the crowded, perspiring audience, made the place particularly unattractive. A steam-like vapour had turned the dry dust on the window-panes
3
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into mud, forming dirty tears which trickled in every direction, to the evident annoyance of the flies, which buzzed noisy protests every time they were dislodged. Even the Judge’s water-pitcher seemed porous, for it had started a little rivulet of its own, which had overrun the desk and was slowly dripping to the floor. The stenographer’s hand resting on the rail beside him left a damp, spreading stain on the painted woodwork.
Everything was moist and sticky except the judicial canopy of crimson rep, and that was clothy and breathless.
Uninviting as the prospect was, it did not seem to discourage the tardy visitors, for after a moment’s hesitation the man turned to his com
panion with a sharp nod and, pushing open a door, led the way through the densely packed spectators to one of the rear benches. The room was hushed as the newcomers hastily tiptoed toward the nearest vacant seats with a guilty feeling of having interrupted the pro
ceedings—a self-consciousness wholly unjustified by the facts, for business was often suspended to enable Judge Osterfield to consult with political henchmen, one of whom was at that moment behind the judicial desk.
His Honour had turned his back upon the audi
ence and was listening to the whispered words confided in his ear—his face averted from his confidant. Nothing could be seen of the Judge except one shoulder and the back of his head, the latter exhibiting a remarkably symmetrical bald spot, presumably caused by contact with
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the leather of the high-backed judicial chair.
Every eye in the room was fixed on this peculiar spot as though fascinated by it. Every ear seemed to be straining to catch the whispered conference. Perhaps Osterfield was aware of this concentrated attention, for he placed a hand on the arm of his visitor’s chair and slowly swung its occupant until he, too, faced the red- rep canopy. Lip-reading is a common accom
plishment, and the Honourable Tanner Osterfield was nothing if not a cautious man.
The movement, slight as it was, diverted the attention of the spectators, who began to exchange deep respirations, until the hush was gradually wafted away in a fluttering crackle of hats, papers and improvised fans of all sorts. The men unbuttoned their coats, stuffed their hand
kerchiefs into their wilting collars, and whipped them out again to mop their perspiring faces.
The women fanned with exhausting vigour.
At the counsels’ table, the waiting lawyers were suffering equally with the unacclimated public. Only one of the legal group even attempted to occupy himself, and he sat quietly at the end of the long table, his head resting between his hands and an open book lying between his elbows—the picture of serenity and coolness. Save when he mechanically turned a page of his book, this exceptional individual made no movement of any kind, and appeared quite as oblivious to the fretful stir in his imme
diate neighbourhood as he was superior to the atmospheric conditions. Yet the moment an
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inquisitive clerk craned a neck to discover what volume was engaging his attention, he immediately looked up, held out the book so its title might be read, and resumed its perusal without any comment whatsoever. The clerk’s sallow face flushed for an instant, and then he whispered to his employer that the book had no bearing on the case at bar. It was merely a History of the French Revolution.
Brief as this pantomime was, it did not escape the attention of the late arrivals on the rear bench, for the man touched his companion’s arm the instant the lawyer looked up. The face she saw was thin, almost gaunt, its profile suggesting a high type of North American Indian; the eyes were dark-brown and wonder
fully clear, the clean-shaved mouth and chin well and firmly moulded, the slightly hooked nose large without being disproportioned to the other features, the brown hair tinged with gray, although the man was clearly not much over thirty—not a handsome face, but unforgettably strong; a pleasant face, even when its expression was flushing the cheeks of the spying clerk.
The woman nodded comprehendingly at her companion as the lawyer resumed his reading, and almost at the same instant the audience heard the creak of a swing-chair and observed the heavy-paunched visitor rise and then pause for a few parting words. At last the Judge’s bald spot nodded rapidly and the visitor turned away, carefully descended the one-step platform, and waddled past the Bench, stoop
THE WEB 7 ing low before it to avoid obstructing His Honour’s view of the court. But this customary- courtesy was superfluous, for Judge Osterfield did not turn to the spectators for some seconds after his guest departed, and when he did so it was merely to write a note, which he enclosed in an envelope, addressed, and tossed to an at
tendant. Then he looked out of a side window abstractedly and, leaning back in his chair, mut
tered something which sounded like “Proceed.”
No one at the counsels’ table stirred, and the room remained as quiet as it had been from the instant His Honour faced it.
Judge Osterfield turned sharply toward the group of lawyers and repeated the word “Pro
ceed !”-—this time quite distinctly.
The student of the French Revolution raised his eyebrows slightly, glanced at the Bench inquiringly, tore a strip from the sheet of paper by his side, placed it between the pages of his book and closed the volume very deliberately.
Then he packed it carefully into a leather bag which rested on the table and slowly rose from his chair.
“May it please the Court,” he began, casually, glancing at a paper in his hand, “I respectfully request that the stenographer be directed to note that the examination of the witness Delaplaine was adjourned against my protest and objection, and that twenty minutes elapsed before the trial again proceeded, and that during said inter
mission the witness communicated with his counsel and consulted various papers.”
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The silence of the room was intense, and the buzzing of the flies on the sweating window-panes was plainly audible.
“Proceed with your case, Mr. Maddox.’’
The Judge spoke as though he had not heard the lawyer’s words.
“Have you noted my request, Mr. Stenog
rapher?”
The official shook his head and looked inquir
ingly at the Bench. Another pause ensued, during which Maddox gazed steadily at the Judge, whose eyes were fixed upon a spot on the wall directly over the lawyer’s head. The expression of His Honour’s face seemed to terrify the audience, who stirred neither hand nor foot.
“The stenographer will please note---”
Maddox spoke quietly, but every syllable could be heard in the farthest corner of the room.
“The stenographer will please note that defend
ant’s counsel requested the Court to place upon the record the fact that the cross-examination of the witness Delaplaine was interrupted---”
“No one will take an order in this court except from me !”
Judge Osterfield roared out the words without taking his eyes off the wall. The stenographer started and blotted his record.
Maddox leaned against the table, propped his body with straightened arms and, crossing his feet in a lounging attitude, smiled good-naturedly, almost indulgently, at the dark face above the desk.
THE WEB 9
“Your Honour probably misunderstood my request,” he began, imperturbably. “Shall I repeat it?”
No answer came from the Bench, and the spectators watched the Judge’s glassy stare and twitching lips in fascinated silence.
“All I desire,” continued Maddox, smilingly,
“is to introduce a little variety into the record by placing upon it the statement of an undisputed fact. It must certainly be a relief to Your Honour to encounter every now and again in the desert of contradictions an oasis in the shape of an uncontroverted fact.”
“The Court has heard enough of this, sir—
more than enough. Your levity is ill-timed.”
“ I should regret to work at cross-purposes with this Court,” answered Maddox, dryly, “but I feel certain Your Honour does not see my point, and I trust the Court will not think me guilty of levity if I refer to the ‘Jack of Hearts’
trial of ‘Alice in Wonderland,’ where a ruling that all important happenings be omitted from the minutes would have been in keeping with the rest of the procedure.”
Osterfield fairly crouched behind his desk as he heard a faint ripple of laughter from the audience, but his small eyes never left the spot on the wall.
“ Now I submit with all due deference,” Maddox continued, good-naturedly, “ that if one important event is to be expunged from the record, another may be, and in the end we will have ‘a perfect and absolute blank.’”
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“The Court warns counsel against further trifling,” muttered Osterfield, without moving his lips. “You will find the matter serious enough, sir, if you do not proceed,” he added, in an ugly tone.
“I fear my clients would find it serious if I did proceed without insisting upon their rights, Your Honour, and I cannot understand---”
“The Court is not responsible for your under
standing, sir.”
“I have no desire to overtax the Court’s responsibilities. On the contrary, I am suggesting that Your Honour shift responsibility by con
forming to the established practice.”
The speaker’s face was perfectly grave, but his nostrils were slowly dilating, and Osterfield was conscious of a laugh in the irritatingly calm drawl.
“The Court resents counsel’s insinuations,”
he growled, so inaudibly that Maddox placed a hand behind his ear.
“Insinuations, if the Court please,” he replied, still speaking affably, “imply things hinted at but not fully expressed. I certainly have nothing to gain by indirection, and with Your Honour’s permission I will proceed to make myself entirely clear.”
He shifted his position slightly and folded his arms.
“The interruption of which I complain,” he began, in a more serious tone, “came at the crucial moment in my cross-examination of the most important witness in this case. I protested,
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but Your Honour saw fit to overrule me, and I know my remedy if Your Honour erred. But I desire that the fact of this interruption, its cause and duration, be noted on the record, together with my objection and exception, and I also ask the Court to take notice of the conduct of the witness, who has---”
A red-faced lawyer sitting near the speaker sprang to his feet.
“If the Court please,” he interposed angrily,
“I object to the statement of counsel that the witness has communicated with me. Mr. Dela
plaine has never moved from the witness chair, and I have not crossed the rail which guards it.
Not one word has passed between us.”
“Actions sometimes speak louder than words,”
retorted Maddox, emphatically, without glancing at the attorney, “and I assert that the learned counsel and his now equally learned witness have exchanged signals---”
“I protest—-if the Court please! I protest!”
“The counsel doth protest too much,” quoted Maddox, with a drawl. “Does he deny?”
“ Most emphatically I deny---”
“Take your seat, Mr. Fletcher!”
The red-faced attorney dropped into his chair as though his legs had been knocked from under him by the Judge’s words, and then Osterfield’s eyes sought Maddox. For some seconds the two men faced each other in absolute silence, and the spectators watched them as though they were athletes poised for deadly grapple.
Osterfield’s hand groped for a pen, but his
12 THE WEB
small eyes watched Maddox under half-closed lids.
“I warn counsel—” the Judge’s words were scarcely more than a whisper, tense and strained—
“ I warn counsel that he has carried this matter quite as far as he can with safety. One step more will be dangerous. I advise him to proceed at once to the trial of his case.”
Maddox, who had been leaning easily against the counsels’ table, stepped forward and laid his hands lightly on the rail before him.
“ I accept whatever responsibility attaches to my action,” he began, quietly but earnestly, “and I certainly do not underestimate the gravity of the present situation. I most respectfully but positively deny the right of this or any other Court to interrupt a cross-examination or to suspend proceedings except for good and sufficient reason, and I am not at all satisfied that the personal or private convenience of the Court affords either good or sufficient reason.
But,” he continued, aggressively and with rapidly gathering force, “when the exercise of that personal convenience coincides with the necessi
ties of a hard-pressed witness, then it is high time the legality of such action was tested, and I am prepared to test it, if necessary, in the highest court of this State! I therefore demand——”
“Stop, sir! Take your seat, sir!”
Maddox obeyed the thundered order slowly and without relaxing his stem gaze. The flush which had crimsoned Osterfield’s face at the
THE WEB 13 lawyer’s first words had deepened until it was noticeable even through the sparse yellow and gray hairs of his closely cropped beard. Then it suddenly faded, leaving him deathly pale, his unshaved upper lip trembling and twitching.
When he spoke again his eyes once more sought the side window and his voice, though low, shook with passion.
“Were I not convinced,” he began, his words pouring forth in jerky sentences between panting pauses—“were I not certain that counsel is trying to—advertise himself by—by his unseemly words and actions, and were I not unwilling to—
to gratify a craving for cheap notoriety, I should adjudge him guilty of contempt. I shall not, however, at present, officially notice his conduct.
As for the supposed legal points---” he turned savagely to the stenographer and pointed a shaking finger at the official’s note-book—“In order that this altercation may not be—be accorded an importance to which it is not entitled, I direct you to note that the convenience of the Court required an adjournment, to which de
fendant’s attorney objected and excepted; that the adjournment lasted twenty minutes, and the same attorney again objected and excepted, making unsupported accusations against the opposing counsel and his witness, which accusa
tions were denied. The Court refused to entertain any issue of veracity between counsel, and the defendant’s attorney once more objected and excepted. The Court then announced, once and for all, that the defendant’s attorney could
14 THE WEB
take an exception to each and every ruling made against him during the course of this trial without further application to the Court. So much for your exceptions ! Now, sir, proceed immediately with your case or take the consequences !”
Maddox had been bunching his papers as the Judge spoke, but at the last words he looked up and met Osterfield’s angry glare with a smile of quiet amusement.
“If Your Honour will further instruct the stenographer to note that the defendant’s attorney further objected and excepted to what Your Honour has just said, and to Your Honour’s manner of saying it, and then left the room, it will complete the record as far as I am concerned.”
Some one in the audience must have expressed audible astonishment, for the Judge’s gavel crashed upon the desk and the attendants leaped to their feet and glowered fiercely at the crowded benches.
“Do I understand that you rest your case—
Mister—er Counsellor ? ’ ’
“No, sir; I retire from the room.”
Maddox stuffed the last papers into his bag and closed it with a snap.
Judge Osterfield wrote rapidly in his Minute Book—so rapidly that he broke his pen. But before he completed his memorandum and snapped out “Judgment for the plaintiff!” Maddox had passed through the swinging doors.
The words of the court crier announcing adjournment were lost in the buzz of excited comment, and the sharp commands to “ Pass out
‘
“
DoIunderstandthatyourestyourcase,Mister—erCounsellor? “‘ No,sir;Iretirefromtheroom.’”THE WEB i s quietly!” were unheeded by the audience. But the late comers on the rear bench did not speak until they were again in the rotunda. Then the man pressed the woman’s arm and whispered:
“Wait till I find a place where we can talk in quiet, Mrs. Lorimer. That’s the man you want.”
CHAPTER II
I
HE rotunda of the County Court-House is the result of an architectural design, but it looks like an accident. It might have made aified lobby had not the centre been cut out, forming a great well or light-shaft into the basement and depriving it of a floor. It might have been an excellent central office or court-room had not the extension of the light-shaft deprived it of a ceiling. As it is, it forms a circular passage that leads from nothing to nowhere, surrounded on one’’side by high, dirty walls and on the other by an iron rail guarding the “well.” The saving grace ,of this architectural monstrosity is its severe simplicity. The few feeble attempts at decoration which have been made suggest the hideous possibilities of further adornment.
Decorating the rotunda would be as hopeless as beautifying an ordinary gas-tank.
At the recess hour, and indeed during most of the business day, the rotunda resembles a sluggish whirlpool where the driftwood collects in groups and clings together. Sometimes this legal flotsam and jetsam floats around the wall or outer circle, sometimes it is sucked toward the well-rail or inner circle, but whatever changes occur are scarcely noticeable. The pool always looks the same.
16
THE WEB W One would not think such environment stimu
lating to the imagination, and yet many a log in this soaked and battered drift, watching the swirl and rush about it, thinks itself moving with the current or even directing the course of events. Here, too, at the outer and inner circles are to be heard the most wonderful stories of legal sagacity, the most remarkable testimony concerning human cunning, the most marvellous accounts of daring action and ready wit—every word bespeaking the possibilities of highly devel
oped imagination.
The outpouring from Judge Osterfield’s court had swept the late arrivals far into the rotunda, where Myrick left his companion leaning against the well-rail and disappeared in the crowd. It did not require more than a glance for the rotunda habitues to discover that Mrs. Lorimer was young—scarcely more than a girl—and handsome. Another glance, slightly prolonged, informed the starers that this young woman was neither alarmed nor embarrassed at finding herself the object of attention, and that she knew how to disarm scrutiny by a return glance of nicely adjusted dignity and disdain. But the presence of well- dressed, attractive womanhood is so unusual in the annals of the rotunda that it requires much more than a reproving glance to discourage the habitues. Even the bloated, pimply gentlemen who, as a rule, brook no interruption of their greasy confidences, stopped for an instant to join in the general stare.
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The coffee-stand woman, the only other repre
sentative of her sex in the immediate vicinity, was in the act of diving into a mysterious inside pocket for a customer’s change when she caught sight of the stranger resting gracefully against the rail. The pocket was no more difficult to locate than usual, nor were the coins hard to recognise by the touch, but when the coffee-stand woman withdrew her hand she knew every stitch in the visitor’s clothes, and could have described her from the tip of her patent-leather shoes to the smallest rosebud nodding above her dainty summer hat. Not only this, but by the exercise of similar intuitions the coffee-stand lady knew in one glance that the well-dressed, distinguished- looking Mrs. Lorimer was exceedingly ill at ease
—which was something the male population of the rotunda would not have discovered in a year of staring.
“All ready ! I’ve found a place.”
Mrs. Lorimer started as she recognised Myrick’s voice, and immediately moved away with him, followed by the eyes of the leerers, to whom she suggested the always pleasing topic of divorce, corespondents male and female, and all the choice details thereunto appertaining which delight the palate of fat-paunched, perspiring masculinity.
The court-room of Special Term, Part II., was vacant save for Van, the gray-haired clerk, who nodded to Myrick as the couple entered and then disappeared again behind his high-topped desk.
Myrick ushered Mrs. Lorimer to a comer seat, placed a chair close beside her and sat down.
THE WEB 19
“Well, what do you think of him?” he began, in a low voice.
‘ ‘ Of Mr. Maddox ? I thought him quite hand
some.”
The man laughed.
“There’s a woman’s answer for you ! I mean what did you think of the way he handled old Osterfield?”
“ I thought he was quite right.”
“Right? Of course he was right. There are not half a dozen men at the bar, however, who dare beard the old rascal, and not two in the half-dozen who would gain anything except notoriety by doing it. But Maddox saved his case.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t understand the whole situation.”
“Well, I shouldn’t have understood it myself if I hadn’t happened to be in the court this morning at the beginning of the row. The story is simply this: Maddox didn’t want to try that case before Osterfield, and fought hard to have it postponed, but his opponent, Fletcher, forced him to go on. Maddox no doubt feared that Osterfield and Fletcher—who are great pals
—would beat him between them, and when Osterfield’s caller spoiled his cross-examination Maddox probably jumped to the conclusion that the interruption had been arranged beforehand.
You look surprised, but I tell you it isn’t the first time a thing of that kind has happened in Osterfield’s court. He doesn’t have a man like Maddox to deal with every day—that’s the only
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difference. I wouldn’t have missed it for any
thing ! Did you notice how beautifully he maneuvered? No, of course you couldn’t appre
ciate that; but I tell you his tactics showed that he was sure of himself and knew his business, and that he had taken Osterfield’s measure to an inch. You see, all he wanted was to plant a good exception in the record, and he played and worried and scared Osterfield until he did it. A good exception will upset any decision, and once he had that Maddox could abandon his case and let the old scamp do his worst. It took courage to make the move, but the calm nerve and cheek of the thing appealed to me. By Jove, I shall never forget Osterfield’s face!”
“But didn’t he decide against Mr. Maddox?”
“Of course; but he had no right to do so.
Maddox will appeal and reverse him. Most of the Appellate judges hate Osterfield. If Maddox had continued he would have lost his case ‘on the merits,’ as we say. Now he’ll get a new trial and a new judge. Not only that, but he’s heard the plaintiff’s testimony and the plaintiff hasn’t heard his.”
“That doesn’t sound quite fair.”
Myrick sat back in his chair and smiled indul
gently at his companion.
“ Not fair ?” he laughed. “ You’ve no idea how funny that sounds to a lawyer. Why, it was the cleverest part of the whole campaign.”
Myrick chuckled softly to himself, but his laughter had an unpleasant note and his face
THE WEB 21 expressed cunning rather than mirth. Mrs.
Lorimer took no notice of his comment.
“Of course you know Mr. Maddox very well? ” she resumed, quietly.
“I was at the law school with him and I’ve seen more or less of him professionally ever since. Yes, I know him well—quite well. I told you he was smart, but I wanted you to see him yourself, so you might feel confident of his ability. If you call at his office now you are almost sure to find him in. You think he’s the right man for your case—don’t you?”
Mrs. Lorimer did not answer for a moment.
When she spoke it was without looking at her questioner.
“You’re certain I have a case, Mr. Myrick?”
“Certain!” he repeated in surprise. “Do you feel any doubt about it yourself ? I advised you to get a divorce almost a year ago, but you.
wouldn’t listen to me then. I understood you’d thought it all over and changed your mind.
Didn’t you say you’d rather die than live with Lorimer again? I certainly thought---”
“Yes, yes,” she interrupted, nervously; “but I’m not living with him—I haven’t even seen him for months. I don’t need a divorce in order to escape that.”
“No; but---”
Myrick hesitated and began studying the gold seal ring on his little finger. Mrs. Lorimer watched him twist it on and off several times before she prompted him.
“But what?”
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“ I don’t like to speak of it, but you can’t live without money, you know—” Myrick was still studying the ring as he spoke, “and—and unless you begin proceedings I don’t believe Lorimer will continue to—to contribute —”
“I told you I didn’t want his money!” she interrupted, almost angrily. “I loathe him and his money, and his house and his family and everything belonging to him. I can earn my own living. I have done it before, and not so very long ago. If you think that is my reason for--- ”
“I hoped it was not, Ainslee.”
Myrick lowered his voice and looked up quickly as he spoke, but Mrs. Lorimer was gazing straight before her and took no notice of his interruption.
“As long as I am married to that man,” she continued, rapidly, “I have to use his name—I am constantly reminded of his presence; all my independence is fettered; I am conscious that the law gives him certain claims upon me--- Oh, I can’t explain it, if you don’t understand; but the very thought of being bound to him in any way chokes me. I want to be free. Can’t you under
stand? I just want—to—be—free !”
Mrs. Lorimer spoke in a low tone, but her voice trembled with excitement and her cheeks flushed. Van, happening to glance up from his work, wondered who Myrick’s handsome client was, and Myrick, watching her, thought he had never seen Ainslee Lorimer look more lovely.
“I understand,” he answered, sympathetically.
The words seemed to calm Mrs. Lorimer, for the
THE WEB 23 flush faded from her cheeks, and when she spoke again after a little pause her voice was steady and dispassionate.
“ I want to be free, Mr. Myrick; but I must be sure I have a good case. I could not endure failure. Do you fear the outcome? Is that the reason why you will not represent me?”
Her eyes met his as she put the question.
They were wonderful gray eyes, fearless, searching and appealing—difficult eyes to lie to. Myrick spoke directly to them as he answered.
‘‘You know it is not, Ainslee.”
It was the third time he had so addressed her, but Mrs. Lorimer’s expression showed she had not noticed it before.
“You have been very kind, Mr. Myrick,” she began, slowly, “but---”
She hesitated, and her eyes again met his for an instant.
“You don’t want me to call you Ainslee.
Very well; I won’t. I thought perhaps——
Myrick studied his ring again—“perhaps you would rather hear it than—than the other name.”
Mrs. Lorimer glanced gratefully at the speaker.
“I would much rather hear it,” she admitted.
“You are very thoughtful, Jarvis. You cannot act because you know Dick Lorimer and have been his guest. That is your reason, isn’t it?”
“That is one reason,” he began, tentatively.
Then he paused and glanced at his companion, but something in Mrs. Lorimer’s expression warned him to omit further explanations.
24 THE WEB
“Yes, that is the reason,” he repeated; but his words were addressed to the seal ring on his little finger.
Mrs. Lorimer rose from her chair.
“I understand—I understand perfectly. You have been more than kind. I will see Mr. Maddox in the morning. Please give me his address again.”
He wrote it on an envelope and handed it to her as they left the court-room.
“I’ll give you a letter of introduction if you’d rather have one,” he began, hesitatingly.
“No, no,” she interrupted. “I understand.
I can say I heard him in court and came to him for that reason. That is certainly true.”
“You won’t hesitate to let me know if I can be of any further service?”
“If Mr. Maddox will not take my case?” she asked, smilingly. “ No, of course not,” she added, seriously. “ I came to you first of all, did I not—
Jarvis?”
They passed through the rotunda again, silent now and well-nigh deserted, but even more notice
ably ugly and dirty than in its busy hours. The high, barren walls, stained and smeared to the head-level and sweatily sticky above, made the place seem like a pit—the finger-marks upon its sides suggesting vain struggles to escape. The stone floor, slippery with the tramp of warring feet, sounded ominously hollow, and the oval eyes in the swing-doors seemed to follow the departing visitors with the knowing, half-amused, half-contemptuous glance of those who see a
THE WEB 25 locked door tried or a cul-de-sac attempted.
Crowded, the rotunda is brutal with heartless striving; deserted, it is brutal still, but with a sinister, mocking secretiveness which baffles and bewilders.
Mrs. Lorimer apparently felt this, for she turned to her companion as he followed her down the stairs.
“What a disagreeable place!” she exclaimed, with a little shudder. “I’ve never been afraid of anything in my life, but that corridor almost frightens me. I feel as though its walls hid hundreds of spying eyes.”
“It’s not the part of the court-house I’m afraid of,” answered Myrick, oracularly, “and it’s a mighty poor place for spies.”
But somebody was watching the speaker at that very moment, and had Myrick glanced up as he passed through the basement he would have discovered a very disquieting face peering down at him and his companion over the railing of the “weh.”
CHAPTER III
M
ADDOX’S office desk was the despair of every letter-file and document-case agent in town. Its litter of bundles and paper-weighted miscellany demonstrated the necessity of reform, but Maddox was deaf to all arguments.
He not only defended the wild disorder of his surroundings, but also occasionally attacked the patented systems. A contrivance as simple and orderly as the document-case was positively dan
gerous, he once asserted to a persistent salesman.
With such a methodical system to guide them, evil-disposed persons would know just where to lay their hands on what they wanted, whereas no one but the owner could possibly locate any
thing in a delightful heap of disorder—which was manifestly an advantage.
It is difficult to overcome obstinacy in any form, but against smiling obstinacy all argument is wasted. So the salesmen retreated, and the encumbering papers and packages kept increasing year by year until the broad top of the lawyer’s desk fairly groaned under their weight and the barricades of folios towered above his head, almost screening him from the door of his private room.
The striking of a distant clock caused Maddox to glance up from the confused mass of books
26
THE WEB 27 and papers spread out before him. Eleven o’clock! That was a late hour for night work even after a day in court. He pushed back the chair from his desk, yawned wearily, stretched himself, and gazed absent-mindedly out of the open window beside him. The night was black, and the narrow street, shadowed by its towering buildings, resembled a gloomy chasm. The flare of a gas-lamp as a whiff of air fanned the flame, and the ominous rap of a policeman’s club against the flagstones, were the only sounds in the still night air. Not a light was to be seen in the thousands upon thousands of windows staring blankly at one another like unresponsive dead eyes. The prospect was not cheerful, and Maddox picked up a closely printed brief, creased it till it lay flat on the desk, cleared a little space for his elbows, and resumed his favourite attitude for study, with his head resting between his hands.
The sound of a step on the stairs below almost immediately arrested his attention and set him wondering who could be intruding at such an hour of the night. Probably the roundsman had found the front door open and was investigating the cause.
He shoved back his chair and mechanically counted the footsteps. The building was an old one and the stairs creaked loudly at every touch...Fourteen...That was the third flight. Maddox knew exactly the number of treads in each staircase. How he had come to know this, or why, he could not have said. It
28 THE WEB
was part of what he called his “misfit informa
tion”—one of the odds and ends which he unconsciously stored away in his mind to carry a critical moment—or to serve some other useful
(and undreamed of) purpose.
Ten—eleven—twelve—thirteen...
The visitor paused on the fourth landing for a moment, and then continued his upward march until he could be heard puffing and blowing in the hall outside the general offices. Maddox shouted an answer to the knock on the door of the outer office, and in a few seconds the visitor tapped on the green-baize door of the private room.
“Come in.”
The swing-door partly opened, showing a thin, almost dwarf-like man standing furtively on the threshold, nervously twisting a felt hat in his hands, and breathing heavily.
Maddox glanced at the visitor inquiringly for a moment and then resumed his reading of the brief.
“I wish you’d come in or go out, Rat,” he remarked, without lifting his eyes; “preferably out. The draught is annoying.”
Mr. Ratcliffe Ricketts, process-server, familiarly known as “Rat,” stepped inside the room, allowing the door to swing to very slowly and quietly, as though he feared to be seen or heard.
Mr. Ricketts’s every movement, look and tone was the embodiment of secrecy. Some one said of him that he could not even take a drink without seeming to whisper in the glass. His habitual attitude was something between a
THE WEB 29 cringe and a crouch—one could never be quite certain which, and his walk was a combination of slink and tiptoe. Had Mr. Ricketts’s parents not provided him with his nickname at baptism, his face would certainly have procured it for him. His nose was long and thin, his forehead and chin receded, his eyes were narrow and closely set together, and above his protruding front teeth (one of which was missing) dangled a few light-coloured moustache hairs which he continually curled into his mouth with the tip of a grayish tongue. Not only was the man small of stature, but his sallow, perspiring cheeks and prominent cheek bones suggested consump
tion, and his narrow chest and wet, stringy hair—worn just long enough to touch his coat collar—confirmed the suggestion. Mr. Ricketts was a damp personality—damp and clammy. Un
pleasant as was Rat’s general appearance, it was not repulsive except when he smiled. Then his face assumed an expression of loathsome cunning which made him resemble an animal disguised as a man.
Ricketts sidled toward the revolving book
case, laid his hat upon the top and, leaning against it, swung back and forth until Maddox looked up.
“I was in court this afternoon, Mr. Maddox,”
he began confidentially, as he caught the lawyer’s eye.
“You generally manage to be where you’re not wanted, Rat. What of it?”
“I thought perhaps”—Ricketts hesitated and
3° THE WEB
lowered his voice almost to a whisper—“ I thought perhaps you might like to know who Judge Osterfield’s caller was.”
Maddox did not answer, and the process-server continued swinging the book-case to and fro.
‘‘I know him, Mr. Maddox,” he volunteered at last.
“That is a privilege, Rat.”
Maddox did not look up as he spoke, and another pause ensued, broken only by the squeak of the book-case.
“I thought maybe,” resumed Mr. Ricketts diffidently—“I thought maybe you’d like to know all you could about him and perhaps what His Honour did after he left court to-day.”
Maddox glanced contemptuously at the mean little figure of a man, but when he spoke his face expressed more amusement than anger.
“You’ll have to sing your secrets elsewhere, Rat,” he answered; “they’re not salable here.”
“ I don’t want to sell anything, Mr. Maddox.
You used to give me lots of good jobs and always paid me well. Any little favour I can do---”
“The last time you were in this office, Rat, I told you that if you ever came here again I should kick you downstairs. You happen in at a favourable moment. I’m busy now. Good
night.”
The process-server snatched up his hat and began twisting it in his hands again, but gave no other indication of flight.
“That was all a mistake, Mr. Maddox,” he began, studying the floor as he spoke—“ altogether
THE WEB 3i a misunderstanding. I thought that affidavit was true. So help me God, I did, Mr. Maddox. If you’d let me, I could prove--- ”
“That’s the trouble with you, Rat,” drawled Maddox, good-naturedly; “you can prove too much—even things which don’t happen. It’s become a habit with you, and you’ll find yourself in Sing Sing some fine day if you don’t cure it.
Now we’ve thrashed all this out before. You began right enough, but you’ve grown too smart for this office. That’s all there is to it, and I’m too busy to discuss it further. Good-night.”
Ricketts shifted his position and took a step toward the desk.
“You’re hard on me, Mr. Maddox—mighty hard on me, but I won’t complain. I know I made a mistake, and all I want is a chance to set it right. That’s why I came here to-night.
I saw what you was driving at this afternoon, Mr. Maddox,” he continued, with a sly glance and a note of pride. “ I saw it as soon as anybody, Mr. Maddox, and you played him prettily, sir—nobody could have done it any smarter—and I thought you’d want Judge Osterfield and his friend, the interrupter, run down, so I shadowed ’em; and then, knowing you often worked late, I came down
town, saw your light burning, and am here to report.”
“To report what I say to Osterfield and his friend, Bert Callahan?” queried Maddox, smil
ingly.
“Mr. Maddox!”
32 THE WEB
“ Now, Rat, go home, and don’t bother me any more. I’m growing restless.”
“Mr. Maddox, you wrong me cruelly; you do, indeed, sir. I only came here to do you a favour
—because—well, because of that old mistake and because I want you to say a good word for me now I’m going into a new business for myself.
Here’s my card, sir.”
He fumbled in his waistcoat pocket for a moment and produced a small slip of paper, which seemed to distract his attention, for he unfolded and studied it carefully without con
tinuing his hunt for the card.
“Do you know Counsellor Myrick, Mr. Mad
dox?” he asked, suddenly, his eyes still upon the paper—“Counsellor Jarvis Myrick, I mean?”
Maddox nodded carelessly, and Rat thrust the paper before him.
“Isn’t this his writing?” he asked, with a ludicrous imitation of the cross-examining manner.
Maddox glanced at the paper. It was part of an envelope bearing the pencilled memorandum,
“David Maddox, Marshall Building, New York.”
“ I don’t know whose writing it is,” he answered, indifferently, “and I don’t care. Where did you get it?”
“I saw Mr. Myrick give it to a lady in the rotunda to-night. She dropped it on the stairs going out. Women are terribly careless. But this one was mighty handsome, and when the ladies are good-looking, who could ask more?”
Maddox glanced at the speaker and then hastily looked away. Rat Ricketts was smiling.
THE WEB 33
“If you want to know anything about this lady, Mr. Maddox--- ”
“I don’t. Good-night!”
“Or Mr. Myrick---”
“Get out!”
“Or about this paper, I’ll do it for you, Mr.
Maddox, without charge—without one cent of expense to you, sir. I’m in a little different line of business now, and I want you as a client, and I hope you’ll say a good word for me and keep this card on file.”
He dived into another pocket and produced a flimsy pasteboard, which he laid upon the desk, a moist stain showing where his fingers had touched it.
RATCLIFFE RICKETTS Private Detective
Temple Court Building Difficult Papers Served and
All Sorts of Evidence Procured New York
at Lowest Rates
Maddox glanced up from the card, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
“ This is very happily worded, Rat,” he observed with perfect seriousness. “All sorts of evidence procured—eh ? Um ! I should think this ought to bring you plenty of business and just the kind you want. Good-night.”
CHAPTER IV
I
T would be difficult to imagine three men more widely opposed in character, taste and personal appearance than Rutledge, Bailey and Nugent, counsellors at law. The most popular reason for the partnership was that the given name of each member began with the letter I—a fact which would never have obtruded itself had not some wag dubbed the firm “ Incompetent, Imma
terial and Irrelevant,” a nickname which clung to it forever after. The fact that Mr. Irving Rutledge was far from incompetent, Mr. Innes Bailey distinctly material, and Mr. Isidore Nugent relevant to the last degree, did not detract from the joke, but it explained the partnership of these very dissimilar gentlemen, and accounted in a large measure for the success of their joint endeavours.
The offices of Rutledge, Bailey & Nugent were models of convenience and luxury. They were sufficiently businesslike to appeal to the pro
fession, and sufficiently luxurious to impress needy laymen with the desirability of seeking legal assistance elsewhere. The square entrance
hall, enclosed by handsome brass railings, was flanked on one side by the general clerical offices, and on the other by a private reception-room, beautifully furnished in Flemish oak, dark-green
34
THE WEB 35 hangings, and rugs. This in turn led into the library, a semicircular room, surrounded by the private offices of the members of the firm and their chiefs of staff. Each of these private offices harmonised perfectly with the general oak-brown tone of the library, and each was provided with every accessory for the convenient practice of the law.
The partners’ rooms were especially complete in all their fittings and appointments, and each had the additional advantage of an exit and entrance into a private hall. Clients whose dignity refused brass rails, or whose modesty shunned the stares of the reception-room, or who for any other reason desired to be heard rather than seen, announced their advent by telephone and were quietly admitted into the private hall the moment they arrived.
Of course, the individuality of each occupant had stamped itself to a greater or less degree on the partners’ rooms, and to that extent had changed the original colour scheme and effect of harmony. For instance, Mr. Bailey had rolled up the heavy Persian rug and supplied himself with four generous spittoons, and had also substituted a very flattering lithograph of Boss McNeil for the engraving of Chief Justice Marshall.
Mr. Rutledge’s walls were adorned with framed and autographed portraits of most of the promi
nent local judges, and beside his desk, in a purple velvet-covered plaque, hung the handsome piece of plate presented to him by his grateful clients “ In the Matter of the Assignment of Latham,
36 THE WEB
Newcombe & Company"—a trophy which Mr.
Nugent could never pass without smiling.
Mr. Nugent’s room had acquired several excel
lent oil colours almost lost in massive gold frames, an engrossed set of resolutions from the Catholic Club, and a soft-toned engraving of Archbishop Corrigan.
The professional aptitudes of the partners were as distinct as their personalities. Mr.
Rutledge could not have tried the simplest case alone, but made such an admirable appearance when supported by Mr. Nugent that the reporters rarely noted the latter’s presence. Mr. Bailey had never been in court more than a dozen times in his entire career, and had never tried a case in his life. Mr. Nugent was one of the ablest and most industrious practitioners at the bar, and the terror of his office staff, whom he worked relentlessly and ruled despotically. The few clients who knew Isidore Nugent were suspicious of him and distant in their manner, but every one was as jocular and familiar with fat, good-natured “In” Bailey as they were punctilliously polite and dignified with Mr. Irving Rutledge.
There was nothing unusual, therefore, in the stiffly formal note which the senior partner found upon his desk one morning at the close of the June term, and yet he read it with no little surprise. It read as follows:
"Mr. Joseph Searing begs Mr. Rutledge to appoint an early hour on Thursday, June 20th, for a consultation on a matter of immediate importance.”
THE WEB 37 Mr. Rutledge’s surprise came from the fact that he had only just that morning noticed Mr. Searing’s name among the arrivals at Newport.
However, newspapers are notoriously inaccurate, and the lawyer immediately despatched his secretary to inform the firm’s most important client that Mr. Rutledge would see him in two hours’ time. The senior partner never put pen to paper where word of mouth would serve equally well.
Mr. Joseph Searing was president of the Coast and Gulf Railroad, president of the Middle States Bank, first vice-president of The Interior Trust and Securities Company, and supposedly the personal representative of the Hepworth and other large financial interests. Mr. Searing was a client to be reckoned with, but his importance, which he did not underestimate, met its foil in Mr. Rutledge’s manner, which was superior to the last degree. More than once the Coast and Gulf Railroad would have changed its counsel had not the senior partner’s calm stare of superi
ority mastered President Searing. It was his knowledge of this power that caused Mr. Rutledge to postpone his client’s visit for two hours, although he had no intervening engagement, and his reception of the gentleman when he did arrive was carefully calculated to produce a proper effect.
Mr. Rutledge was seated at his desk when Mr. Searing entered from the private hallway.
“ Good-morn--- ”
Mr. Searing’s greeting was cut short by an
3« THE WEB
imperious shake of the lawyer’s head and a gesture which indicated, first, the telephone receiver, and then sealed lips. The client closed the door softly and sank into the nearest arm
chair, watching Mr. Rutledge’s face, which expressed, in turn, annoyance, impatience, sur
prise, amusement and decision, but always wore the far-away look of telephone concentration.
His share of the consultation consisted of a series of indefinite monosyllables, meaningless to the outsider, and perhaps for that reason sounding oracular. At last Mr. Rutledge said
“good-by,” hung up the receiver, and turned to his client with a pleasant smile.
“You must pardon me for silencing you,” he began, extending his hand without rising, “but I thought you might not want our friends on the other end of the wire to know you were here, and a voice is so easily recognised through these confounded things. I was talking with Shep- pardson,” he added, by wray of explanation.
“He’s welcome to know I’m here,” replied Searing, as he drew his chair toward the desk.
“However, you were right. There are times when it is exceedingly inconvenient to have one’s whereabouts located.”
“I thought perhaps this might be one of those times.” Mr. Rutledge picked up the morning paper as he spoke and pointed to the paragraph announcing the day’s arrivals in Newport.
Mr. Searing smiled.
“Another proof of the danger of telephones.
I did intend to go, and my secretary must have
THE WEB 39 notified the captain of my yacht over the private wire, which sometimes leaks straight to the newspapers.”
“Possibly via the secretary or the captain.”
“More likely the former than the latter.”
“A secretary who can’t be trusted is more dangerous than an incompetent yacht captain.”
“ I don’t trust him any more than I can help.
By Jove, Rutledge, I don’t believe I trust any
body these days.”
Mr. Rutledge winced inwardly, more at the omission of the formal handle to his name than at the remark which might be taken to include legal advisers. He made no answer, however, and merely regarded his client with the wide- eyed stare of surprise which he had practised until it had become his habitual expression.
The pause which ensued continued so long, however, that the lawyer began to write a note, which he nearly completed before Mr. Searing interrupted him.
“I think I know the answers to most of the questions I shall ask you this morning, Mr.
Rutledge,” he began. “However, I want to refresh my memory, as you lawyers say.”
Mr. Rutledge looked up from his writing, smiled indulgently without lowering his eyebrows or relax ng his stare, leaned back in his chair, and began playing a silent tattoo with his pen
holder against his lips.
“ If two companies are about to do business together, and some of the directors in one com
pany are also directors in the other, there is
40 THE WEB
nothing in that fact to forbid the transaction, is there?”
“Not if both sides are acting in good faith.”
“You mean it might be charged that some of the directors were more interested in one com
pany than in the other, and therefore it would be better to avoid the dual representation?”
“Certainly; if possible.”
“Directors do not incur any personal liability in making contracts for their company—do they?”
“Not if they act with ordinary prudence and in good faith.”
“Good faith is the string you lawyers always tie to your opinions, isn’t it?”
The tattoo of the penholder continued for some seconds before Mr. Rutledge stopped it by opening his lips to reply.
“ Good faith is the basis of all legal transactions, Mr. Searing.”
“Quite so! But if the contract proved unprofitable, or even disastrous, would the directors incur personal responsibility?”
“Not unless they knew or ought to have anticipated the disastrous result.”
“Um! Well, most contracts turn out better for one side than the other—don’t they?”
Mr. Rutledge nodded acquiescently and resumed the tattoo on his lips. Searing pulled a cigar from his pocket, bit off the end, mechanically lighted the match which his lawyer offered him, but let it burn out, throwing it away when it scorched his fingers. Then he replaced the cigar
THE WEB 4i in his pocket, glanced sharply at Mr. Rutledge, and began a series of questions about contracts and the methods of enforcing them—was this way safe, or that way desirable ?
If Mr. Rutledge answered “Yes,” the client pressed the matter no further; but when his adviser doubted the prudence of any move, Mr. Searing wanted every detail. He seemed particularly interested in the stories of disaster which Mr. Rutledge related for his benefit, and that their lesson might not be lost he asked question after question until the subject was exhausted.
Could not the “Mr. A--- ” of whom Rutledge spoke have saved himself by doing thus and so ? If not, why not?...Could not “the B--- Company,” in the given instance, have taken advantage of such and such facts and avoided the difficulty?...Suppose the circumstances of
“the C--- Company” had been, not as the lawyer stated, but, like this, for instance, would the disaster have been unavoidable ?...
Had any one insinuated that Mr. Rutledge was teaching his client how to perpetrate fraud with safety, his set expression of surprise would undoubtedly have turned to a convincing glance of horror and indignation.
“I think perhaps you would get a clearer insight into the matter, Mr. Searing,” he inter
posed, “ if you stated the particular case you have in mind, so I might apply the law directly to it.
Abstract principles are difficult to remember.”
Mr. Searing gazed thoughtfully at the speaker
42 THE WEB
as though considering the suggestion. Then he shook his head slowly and lapsed into a reverie. Mr. Rutledge signed quite an accumu
lation of correspondence before his attention was again required.
“Mr. Rutledge, you incorporated the Placento Company, didn’t you?”
The senior partner thought for a moment without looking up and then nodded as he signed the last letter. It was some time, however, before Searing spoke again.
“I suppose,” he resumed, tentatively, “that no board of directors should allow its company to enter a contract without first submitting it to an attorney?”
“Ordinary prudence would suggest that.”
Mr. Searing nodded acquiescently. He re
membered the phrase, “ordinary prudence.”
“And I suppose it would not do,” he continued, with a side glance at the lawyer, “for the same attorney to act for both parties.”
“ Certainly not! ”
Mr. Rutledge’s tone was dangerously sharp, but Searing disregarded its warning.
“ Not even if both sides thought it undesirable to—well—to spread the business out more than was absolutely necessary?”
“Under no circumstances.”
“Wouldn’t a formal representation meet the legal requirements? For instance, don’t your clerks sometimes appear as attorneys when confidential transactions demand---”
“No, sir!”
THE WEB 43 Mr. Searing’s pale face flushed at the stern interruption, though he affected not to notice Mr. Rutledge’s indignant glance.
“ They do in some offices,” he answered, calmly.
“However, I dare say your rule is the right one.
By the way, who are some of the reliable corpora
tion lawyers in the city now?”
“They are to be found in almost every large office building, Mr. Searing.”
The senior partner’s tone was cold, and he glanced over the contents of a letter as he spoke.
“ How about young Myrick ? ”
“Mr. Jarvis Myrick? He has had excellent training.”
“In this office, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“You are on good terms with him, aren’t you ? ”
“Oh, good enough.”
Mr. Searing noted the indifferent shrug of the shoulders which accompanied the answer.
“ Um,” he observed. “ I rather thought you’d started him in business for himself. Still, as you say, there are plenty of good attorneys to be had, and--- ”
“I don’t wish you to think,” Mr. Rutledge interrupted, looking up, “that I’ve anything against young Myrick. He is a capable lawyer.
I have employed him myself, and there is nobody--- However, I don’t want to indorse any one. I recommend nobody and object to no one. You will understand and excuse me, I am sure.”
44 THE WEB
There was a trace of a smile on Mr. Searing’s lips. But he wiped it away with his handkerchief as he rose to take his leave. He understood his counsel perfectly.
CHAPTER V
W
HY are you so particularly interested in the French Revolution?”Miss Harmony Frayer glanced up from the book in her lap as she asked the question and gazed inquiringly at her companion. But Maddox did not seem to hear her. He was lying stretched out at his ease, his chin in his hands, his pipe in his mouth, and his elbows sunk in the brown pine needles which cushioned the little forest clearing. Even when Miss Frayer repeated her question he did not answer, but continued gazing dreamily into the screening trees. She made no further effort to attract his attention, but sat watching him with a smile of quiet amusement.
The July afternoon sun was piercing the forest with broken shafts of light from which luminous banners drooped, veiling the nearer recesses, and curtaining the background with deep, contrasting shadows. Here and there the light merely flecked a single leaf, again it burnished an entire branch, and again it touched a distant pine top into a golden spear-point. Scarcely a breath of air stirred. Far away the musical notes of bubbling water mingled with the drowsy hum of insect life, but save for these distant sounds the forest was hushed. Indeed, so intense was the stillness that a dried pine needle falling upon
45
46 THE WEB
Miss Frayer’s book was almost startlingly audible, and Maddox turned quickly at the sound.
“ I beg your pardon,” he began, with a puzzled air. “You asked me a question a moment ago.
Would you mind repeating it?”
The girl laughed good-naturedly.
“Repeating it!” she exclaimed. “Reiterating it, you mean. Yes, I mind very much. Here I’ve been all the afternoon, curled up like a Turk, reading a stupid history solely for your benefit, and you actually haven’t been listening. Now I rebel. I close the book like this—bang! I throw it on the ground—thus ! I get up and stretch my cramped and tired self, and--- Ah, this is something like comfort!”
The girl dropped gracefully upon the pine needles, closed her eyes and lay on her side, cushioning her head upon one arm and allowing the other to droop in an attitude of complete relaxation.
Maddox made no reply to his companion’s mock tirade and watched her pantomime without comment. The sunlight touched her hair, turning it to burnished gold, and giving a ruddy tint to the bronzed cheek exposed to the slanting rays.
Miss Harmony’s sleeves were rolled slightly above the elbow and her outflung arm showed a contrasting line of white against the deep tan.
“ Did you consult Mother Nature when you chose your costume to-day?” drawled Maddox, lazily.
Miss Frayer made no answer.
THE WEB 47
“Because,” he continued, “you’ve outdone her. Your hair is brown, your face and arms are brown, your skirt is brown, so are your stockings and shoes, and your carpet is of brown pine needles. Nature always strives to conceal her favourites by clothing them in harmony with their environment. But you are out of sight! ”
A slight shudder was the only notice Miss Frayer deigned to take of this speech, and for a few moments there was absolute quiet in the little clearing. Then Maddox suddenly rose to a sitting posture, tapped the ashes from his pipe, and blew through its stem.
“ I’m interested in the French Revolution,” he began, slowly, “because—well, because it proves that you can’t civilise humanity out of existence.
There!”
“Where?”
Miss Frayer sprang up and gazed with a startled expression at Maddox’s grave face.
Then she slowly rubbed her eyes and screened an exaggerated yawn.
“Did you speak?” she began, innocently.
“Yes, I think you must have done so. Excuse me while I imitate a trance for an hour or so and perhaps your words may come back to me. Ah, yes,” she continued, nodding her head solemnly,
“if I do not mistake, one of my thoughts was interrupted by a distant voice which seemed to say---”
“Shall I apologise?”
“Wouldn’t that be ‘civilising humanity out of existence’? Rather a neat phrase, though I’m
