John Marsh's Millions

CHAPTER VIII.

"Your uncle—is appointed your guardian and custodian during your minority, and that means he will have complete control of you—and of your money——"

"My uncle?" she cried in dismay. "Oh, Mr. Ricaby—couldn't you have prevented that?"

He shook his head. Then, jumping to his feet, and pacing the floor nervously, he exclaimed angrily:

"How can one man cope with a gang of crooks or break up a well-organized System? Bascom Cooley, your uncle's lawyer, is a prominent member of the inner political ring which controls everything. He presented his petition to a judge who received his appointment from this very organization. It was a foregone conclusion what the outcome would be. Now we're no better off than before. The granting of the petition will give your uncle complete control of your fortune."

Paula looked at him blankly. This was too much. Her patience was almost exhausted. She had borne everything patiently up to now, but this new insult went too far. Tears started to her eyes, and, stamping her foot angrily, she cried:

"He shan't have my father's money to squander how and on whom he pleases! On that I'm determined. I'll give it away— I'll— Oh! surely something can be done!"

Mr. Ricaby shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm afraid not," he answered. "Your uncle is in the hands of an unscrupulous gang. He has spent money like water to break the will. His lawyers resorted to every questionable device under a loosely constructed legal jurisprudence. Where did the money come from? Your uncle didn't have it. His marriage to Mrs. Chase—an extravagant widow with an extravagant son—used up all the money he had. This is Cooley's venture—and Cooley never goes into anything unless he's sure of results."

"And they have won!" she exclaimed.

The lawyer nodded.

"They have absolute control of you—and your money——"

"Can't anything be done?" cried the young girl, wringing her hands in despair. "Can't you do something? Surely I have some rights. Can't you try?—can't you?"

The lawyer was silent for a moment. Then he said thoughtfully:

"I could retain ex-Senator Wratchett—but he would ask twenty-five thousand dollars in advance. He's not as good a lawyer as Cooley, but he has more pull." Excitedly he went on: "Ah! that's what we want, Paula—political pull! My God! What a farce life is! When I was a minister of the Gospel I was a dreamer, howling for purity and truth. Now I'm awake, with my feet on the earth. I'm praying for a liar and a trickster to come and help us out—and cursing myself because I haven't the money to buy him——"

"Twenty-five thousand dollars!" she echoed helplessly. With a bitter laugh she went on: "I pawned my last ring this morning to pay Mrs. Parkes the money I owed her. You gave the Judge the whole history of the case—you told him how my uncle has deliberately stood in the way of my getting my rights for two years—you told him that he is my worst enemy?"

"Yes—everything."

"And yet he appointed him my custodian and guardian?"

The lawyer shrugged his shoulders. Dryly he replied:

"He belongs to the same political organization as Cooley. In this State," he went on, "in order to get the nomination, a judge or his friends are expected to contribute a large sum of money to the campaign fund—the idea is that he owes something to the men who pay that money for him, that he must show some gratitude to those who nominate and elect him—fine ethics, eh? I think I'll go back to the pulpit——"

"Can my uncle compel me to live with him?" demanded Paula.

"Yes," he replied. "I'm afraid so."

The girl jumped up, her hands clenched, her face flushed with anger. Hotly she cried:

"I won't—I won't—live with him! I hate that vulgar, showy woman—his wife! She sneered at me in court because I cried when they said my father drank himself to death. I hate that foolish, giggling son of hers—I hate them all! They've spoiled my life, they've robbed me of the joy of youth. I'm old before my time! My God! I'm not twenty, and I feel worn out. It's a shame the abominable way they've hounded me, but I won't give in—I won't——"

"Come, come, Paula," said the lawyer soothingly. "I feel just as badly as you do about it—I——"

He stopped abruptly and looked out of the window.

Paula watched him in silence. Something within told her that if this man felt bitter under defeat, it was more for her sake than for his own.

"Go on," she said, more gently.

"I don't see that we can do anything more just now," he continued. "The fact is, I'm a bit bewildered. I'm simply stunned!" Hesitatingly, he went on: "I feel I'm to blame to a certain extent. I don't think I quite understand my profession. There are so many laws—so many loopholes to evade the law—so many ramifications—so many interpretations. It's all law—law—law—nothing but law—the question of equity and justice is completely lost sight of in the chaos of procedure—the letter of the law is there, but the spirit is wanting!"

Sitting down, he buried his face in his hands, the picture of utter discouragement.

Paula approached and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"It's not your fault, Mr. Ricaby," she said kindly. "You've done your best, but just think! To be compelled to live with my uncle, the man who destroyed my father's memory, who reviled my mother! Oh, it's—it's monstrous! No, they shan't compel me—I defy them—I defy the law! What do you advise?"

The lawyer shook his head.

"You will gain nothing by openly defying them," he said. "When in doubt—wait! Meantime I'll go and see ex-Senator Wratchett. Perhaps I can interest him in our behalf. I'll move Heaven and earth to get him—set a thief to catch a thief, eh? Oh, it's a glorious game! God knows I've tried to be fair!"

They were so busy talking that they did not hear a timid knock on the door. Mrs. Parkes put her head in.

"A gentleman to see Miss Marsh!" she said, holding out a card.

Paula's face brightened and then grew serious as she caught sight of the name on the bit of pasteboard.

"It's Mr. Chase," she said, turning to the lawyer. "He hasn't been here for an age. I'm surprised he has called so soon after the rendering of the decision. Do you think I should receive him?"

Mrs. Parkes seemed surprised that there should be any question about it.

"He came in a beautiful motor car!" she exclaimed. "Oh, what a magnificent machine! Royal blue color and such a handsome uniform the chauffeur has——"

Mr. Ricaby frowned. He had never approved of this friendship with a young man whose motives he had reason to suspect very strongly. His calling so soon after the verdict was certainly not in the best of taste. It was more than likely that he was a spy sent by the ingenious Mr. Cooley to ferret out their plan of action. Mr. Chase had been very amiable and attentive to them in Paris and during the voyage home, but all that might be only part of the game. On the other hand, if it was a prearranged plan it would work both ways. With a little careful maneuvering they, too, might be able to find out from Tod what new tack the enemy was working on. So, on second thoughts, it might be well to encourage his visits.

"Tell him to come up," he said to the landlady.

Mrs. Parkes bounced out, and a moment later Tod entered.

"I hope I don't intrude," was his cheery greeting.

"Not at all," replied Paula, somewhat coldly. "Won't you sit down?" she said.

He took a seat and drew off his gloves. Affably, he said:

"Thanks—yes. I'll even take a cup of tea if you'll ask me. When I once get started on a proposition I go right round the course—even with a punctured tire." Turning to the lawyer, he went on: "Say, Mr. Ricaby—I just heard that the case has gone against you. That's fierce! I've come to have a little family talk-fest."

He stopped and looked at his hostess and the lawyer. Both remained silent and non-committal. With a shrug of his shoulders, he continued:

"No answer? Well, then, I'll talk to myself, and you can listen till you feel like joining in——"

"Are you here at the request of your stepfather?" interrupted Mr. Ricaby coldly.

The young man gave him a look that was intended to be withering. Instinctively he knew that Mr. Ricaby was no friend of his, and perhaps he guessed the reason. But he did not come to see the lawyer. He liked Paula and was sincerely sorry for her. He did not propose to be bluffed out of his newly made friendship by the unreasonable suspicion of a jealous rival. Sharply he retorted:

"No. I am here at my own request. I'm sorry for this little girl. I saw her in court several times when they were trying to break the will, and my heart went out to her. I want to help her. Oh, I know I don't look like anybody's friend. I'm fat—I'm selfish—and I love myself to distraction—and all that, but—I give you my word I felt sorry for her. I'll never forget her face the day she testified. Gee whiz! Cooley laid it onto Uncle John—your father I mean—didn't he? It wasn't right—I felt sorry, and I told Jimmy so. Miss Marsh, believe it or not—I'm here to express myself as thoroughly disgusted with the methods my folks have employed to get Uncle John's money."

"Why do you call my father Uncle John?" demanded Paula haughtily.

"I got your Uncle Jimmy when he married my mother," laughed Tod, "and I take everything that goes with him—including Uncle John and you—I don't see why I shouldn't have the nice things, too."

"Thank you," she answered, trying to suppress a smile.

Tod grinned.

"I understand you're coming to live with us?" he said.

Paula's face darkened again.

"Am I?" she said frigidly.

"Cooley says so," he went on, "and Jimmy seconded the motion, so I thought I'd come ahead—and sort of break the ice, as it were. I told mother and she said it wasn't a bad idea—for me—and here I am. You are coming, aren't you? It'll be awfully jolly for me. Please say yes—one plunge and it's all over."

Paula was forced to laugh in spite of herself. Then recalling suddenly his attitude at the trial, she demanded:

"Why did you laugh in court when they said my father was a drunkard?"

"Laugh?" he exclaimed. "I couldn't help it. All that Cooley was able to prove was that your father drank a quart of champagne at dinner, now and then. Why, I do that myself—even when I'm out of training! One quart? Why, it's pitiful! I'm laughing yet, but understand, I was laughing for you—not against you."

She turned away her head so he should not see she was smiling. But he was not slow to note the advance he was making, and, thus encouraged, he went on:

"Another—and perhaps the real reason why I came—and this is on the level—I'm responsible for this whole state of affairs."

Mr. Ricaby looked up in surprise.

"You?" he exclaimed.

"Yes," continued Tod, rising to go. "My mother married Jimmy because she wanted money. You know she's very extravagant, and I'm her chief extravagance. I run up bills and she pays 'em. We've both got the habit. Well, you see, if it wasn't for my debts, she wouldn't have married Jimmy and he probably wouldn't have tried to get his brother's estate. So you see it's all my fault. I'm the black sheep—the others are only dark-brown. But I'm going to do what's right from this out. To begin with, I'm going to turn my new eight-thousand-dollar car over to you."

"Why should you do that?" demanded Paula.

The young man chuckled as he replied:

"I got the cash on a note endorsed by mother, and Jimmy will have to pay it out of your money. It's your money that bought the car—so you take it—but I'll run it for you. It's a dandy. Just romps up the hills. I can squeeze seventy out of it. It's downstairs now. Say, Miss Marsh, come down and take a look at it——"

She shook her head.

"No—thank you all the same."

He looked at her with an injured expression.

"I give you my word of honor," he said, "I want to do what is right. Jimmy and mother always regarded Uncle John's money as theirs and I unconsciously fell into line. But I've woke up—I withdraw from the contest. I'm out of it—so we can be good friends—but—take my advice and watch Jimmy and keep your eyes on Cooley. You know Cooley cooks up all sorts of schemes for Jimmy, and Cooley isn't exactly working for charity. I don't like Cooley. He's too sharp. Of course, a lawyer ought to be sharp, but Cooley is almost too deuced sharp—one of these days he'll cut himself." As he made a move towards the door, he said: "You will come, won't you? When shall I say you're coming?"

He stopped to hear her answer, but none came. There was an embarrassing silence. Mr. Ricaby, who was walking nervously up and down the room, suddenly turned on the young man, and, looking him squarely in the face, said:

"You really wish to do what is right?"

"Yes," answered Tod promptly.

"Then tell the whole truth," said the lawyer, raising his voice, "how much are you to receive if you succeed in persuading Miss Marsh to accept her uncle's guardianship without protest?"

The young man answered the older man's steady gaze unflinchingly. If he was playing the role of a spy certainly his face did not betray it. With perfect sangfroid, he answered:

"This is unworthy of you. Yet I don't blame you for suspecting me. It was like this—I told them they didn't know how to handle women——"

"And you do?" laughed Paula.

"Well," replied Tod, his chest inflated with self-importance, "I've had a little experience with women. But I didn't promise to tell you the truth about that. I said to Jimmy and Cooley: Kindness—that's the idea—kindness. Don't jerk at her mouth. Hold the rein loose. Treat women and horses alike. Women and horses—the noblest creatures in God's creation. Leave her to me, I said—you see I wanted to get well acquainted with you—I'm interested—really I am."

"Indeed!" laughed Paula satirically. "I ought to feel quite complimented."

Tod broke out into a hearty laugh. Pointing gleefully at his hostess, he cried:

"Ha! ha! The ice is cracking. Miss Marsh—I warn you—you're warming up!"

Paula was about to make retort when the door opened and Harry Parkes appeared. He nodded stiffly to Tod and approached the lawyer.

"Mr. Ricaby," he said, "your office is calling you on the telephone."

The lawyer immediately excused himself and hurried out of the room. There was an awkward silence. Tod looked at Harry and the latter looked at Tod. Both rivals for the lady's good graces, neither seemed disposed to leave the field free for the other.

"Well—I suppose I'd better go——" growled Tod finally. Holding out his hand to Paula, he said: "May I report progress?" Seeing her smile and thinking he might be able to get the best of the other fellow after all, he went on: "My car is downstairs. Won't you come down and look it over?"

"Thank you, so——" she replied.

"Just a spin round the park," he pleaded. "I can do it in fifteen minutes. It's all right, you know. The speed limit don't go with me at all—I know all the policemen. You see Jimmy is running strong with the chief—and whatever we say, goes."

Paula laughed merrily.

"I'm afraid I can't accept your invitation, even with the special inducement of being able to break the law with impunity."

"Sorry. Well, good-bye—I'm off." His manner lost its flippancy, and there was genuine feeling in his voice as he added: "Good-bye, Miss Marsh. Whatever happens I'm really and truly glad I had this chat with you, but I'm afraid I did most of the talking. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Mr. Chase," she said, extending her hand.

The door closed and Paula returned slowly to the table.

"A curious boy," she murmured, more to herself than to her companion. "I rather like him."

"Do you?" exclaimed Harry blankly, looking at her over his gold eyeglasses. Awkwardly he went on: "I'm glad he's gone. I wanted to say something to you. Miss Marsh—I—I've thought it all over——"

Paula resumed her seat and took up a book.

"Now, Harry," she laughed, "you're going to propose again. I can see it in your face. Please don't. There's a good boy."

"I was only going to say," he stammered, "that the name of Parkes is at your disposal."

"That's very kind, but——"

"Fifteen hundred a year—no encumbrances—unlimited prospects——"

She looked up at him, much amused.

"It sounds a little like a real estate advertisement. But, seriously, Harry—don't—don't—can't you see I've no time for such nonsense? I'm driven almost to distraction. I owe Mr. Ricaby so much money. He has almost ruined himself for me. He has worked day and night on this case—neglected all his law practice. I hear him coming now. Perhaps he has some news."

There were sounds of hurried footsteps. The door opened, and the lawyer entered hurriedly. He looked flurried as if something important had happened. Turning to Harry, he said quickly:

"Will you excuse us a moment?"

"Certainly—certainly——" said the young man.

With a side glance at Paula, he went out, closing the door. Mr. Ricaby quickly approached Paula. Laboring under some excitement, he said:

"Your uncle demands an interview with you. I told him you refused to go to him."

"Quite right! Go to him indeed!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"He and Mr. Cooley are now at my office. They want to come here to see you."

"I won't see them," she cried.

"Perhaps it would be good policy," said the lawyer thoughtfully.

"No," she retorted emphatically. "I won't see them."

"Yes, Paula," said the lawyer kindly, but firmly, "they can keep up this legal battle for years—as long as they choose—until we're exhausted and most of the money we're fighting for is expended in fees and costs. Cooley will never give up—and we can't go on without money. Something might be gained by meeting them halfway." He hesitated a moment and then went on: "Cooley told me over the telephone just now that he had new evidence. He could prove that his client had a partnership with his brother, and was entitled to half——"

"He can prove anything," she cried contemptuously. "I refuse to degrade myself by a compromise. It shall be all or nothing."

Nervous and agitated, Mr. Ricaby strode up and down the room. He was advising the girl for the best. He had experience in these matters. Well he knew the law's terrible delays, and even then the result was uncertain.

"If you fight them," he said, "it means more costly litigation. I may be able to get Wratchett, but I'm not sure that he'll fight Cooley. They're such strong political cronies. You've nothing to lose by holding out the olive branch, and much to gain. Really, Paula, it's better for you to see them. I am so sure about it that I told them to come over."

With a gesture of discouragement Paula sank down in a chair.

"God knows I'm as tired of the struggle as you are, Mr. Ricaby," she cried, "but I hate to give up. I know you're advising me for the best—yes—I'll be guided by you—I will see them—and—and yield as gracefully as I can, but it seems hard, very hard. When will they come?"

"In a few minutes," replied the lawyer.

CHAPTER IX.

Bascom Cooley had not overestimated his abilities or the extent of his pull. He had not, indeed, been successful in his efforts to have the new will set aside. There are some things which not even crooked lawyers, with all their cunning and underhand methods, are unable to do. Even his perjured witnesses could not disprove the fact that John Marsh was legally married to Paula's mother, and that he was of sound mind when he made the second will. Backed by all the influence of the System, he could not prevent Paula from inheriting what was naturally and legally hers. Yet, thanks to the mysterious and powerful support behind him, he did manage to score in one important point. He was able to manipulate the legal wires in such a way that Paula, after the Court decision rendered in her favor, found herself no better off than she was before. Being a minor, she could not touch her inheritance. The appointment of a guardian was necessary, and Bascom Cooley, after much secret and underhand manœuvring, finally persuaded a judge to appoint the girl's uncle special administrator until she could come of age. It was clearly unconstitutional and at once evoked protest from Paula's attorney. But to no purpose. The court's order was peremptory. An appeal to a higher court would mean more endless and expensive litigation. The best plan, perhaps, was to wait patiently the one short year and then demand a strict accounting. At least, so argued Mr. Ricaby.

Bascom Cooley now had things going his way. Jimmy, his poor, weak tool, was in sole control of the Marsh millions. For twelve months he could do what he liked with the money. Much can be accomplished in a year—money can be made, money can be lost. If, when the day of accounting came, there was a scandal, Jimmy alone would be held responsible, and as for denouncing others as having shared in the division of the spoils, he would not dare. Cooley knew too much of his business for that.

The next important step was to control, as far as possible, the movements of the ward herself. It would never do to have her living in a cheap boarding house, going and coming as she pleased, surrounded by people who might tell her embarrassing truths. The influence of Leon Ricaby, especially, Mr. Cooley was anxious to remove. He felt that with the attorney out of the way, they would have less trouble with the girl. That is why he had impressed Jimmy with the urgent necessity of taking Paula as a more or less unwilling boarder under his roof.

"She'll kick like a steer," he growled. "But that's nothing. I like a gal with some spirit in her. She must do what we say, whether she likes it or not."

Overbearing, brutal, defiant, Mr. Cooley entered the sitting room of Mrs. Parkes' boarding house, followed meekly by Jimmy Marsh. Fashionably dressed, dyed and perfumed, Paula's uncle, in personal appearance, offered a sharp contrast to the burly, coarse-looking lawyer. The two men were types so utterly dissimilar that it was almost paradoxical to find them in such close association. It was as if the lamb suddenly found it to his taste to consort with the wolf. While the lawyer advanced into the room, his air arrogant, his manner insolent, Jimmy remained in the background, nervous and fidgetty. That he was completely under the mental control of his attorney was plainly evident.

Mr. Ricaby was alone in the room, awaiting their arrival.

"Hallo, Ricaby—howdy?" exclaimed the big lawyer. "You know Mr. Marsh——"

Jimmy nodded and Mr. Ricaby bowed stiffly. His manner was freezingly polite.

"Yes, I think I have that pleasure."

Without troubling to wait for an invitation, Mr. Cooley flopped his large person into an armchair. Then, looking all around as if in search of someone, he asked:

"Well, where's the young lady?"

"She'll be here in a moment," replied Mr. Ricaby. There was an awkward pause, and then he went on: "I need scarcely tell you that this sudden visit is most unexpected."

The big lawyer gave a coarse laugh.

"Always expect the unexpected from Bascom Cooley!" he cried. "Sit down, Mr. Marsh. Yes, Mr. Ricaby, Bascom Cooley aims at a certain point, but he never looks in the direction he's aiming, and while the other side is carefully guarding the wrong place—bing!—Bascom Cooley's got 'em where he wants 'em."

Mr. Ricaby nodded.

"Quite so!" he said, with a shade of irony.

Mr. Cooley grinned.

"That's why the aforesaid is in a class all by himself," he chuckled.

Mr. Marsh ventured to obtrude himself into the conversation. Timidly he said:

"Perhaps my niece may find the hour inconvenient. I'm perfectly willing to postpone——"

Mr. Cooley stamped his foot impatiently.

"Now, look here, Marsh, don't be a fool; don't establish a precedent of meekness, or you'll have to be meek all the time. That's the advice I give young married men, Ricaby."

He laughed boisterously at his own wit, and looked at Mr. Ricaby as if expecting him to join in the merriment. But Paula's attorney remained sober as a judge.

"Come, come, be cheerful!" went on Mr. Cooley; "why not let us be good friends? Why can't Miss Paula be made to understand that my client is her friend as well as her nearest relative? Flesh and blood is flesh and blood—you can't get away from that fact. He wants to open his heart to her. Hang it, they've been separated long enough! All his movements, however seemingly unfriendly, have been actuated only by a sense of justice to his own family."

"Perfectly true—perfectly true," broke in Jimmy eagerly. "She is my brother's child, and, although we've seen nothing of her, nevertheless I feel that I am far more competent to—to take charge of—the family estate—than she is."

"The family estate?" interrupted Mr. Ricaby, elevating his eyebrows.

"Yes," said Jimmy boldly. "My brother's estate and mine. You know, the woman he married——"

Cooley held up his hand with a deprecating gesture:

"Now, please, don't let us go into that phase of the matter. The marriage was kept secret, but we have conceded that it was a marriage. Once and for all, let us have done with this litigation business. My client doesn't want to drag this case through the courts for years. He can if he wants to—but he doesn't. What he wants is—peace and harmony."

"And his brother's estate," interrupted Mr. Ricaby sarcastically.

Mr. Cooley looked aggrieved.

"Ricaby," he said, "that insinuation is not in keeping with the friendly purpose of this meeting. My client is special administrator—an appointee of the Court—and we are acting under the law——"

"The law!" exclaimed Mr. Ricaby scornfully. "That's the damnable part of it! You're acting under a law that compels a widow or orphan to spend thousands of dollars on litigation in order to obtain what is theirs by right."

Mr. Cooley shrugged his shoulders.

"The law is all right."

"Then it's dishonest interpretation that's at fault," retorted the other hotly. "Something is rotten somewhere when the courts can be used to legally deprive this girl of her inheritance."

Mr. Cooley rolled his eyes and remained unperturbed. Suavely, glibly, he said:

"You're repeating yourself, brother Ricaby. So you told the judge, and it didn't do your case a particle of good. That's a sign of weakness. But come, I promised myself not to allow anything to interrupt the peaceful, harmonious flow of events." With an effort at flowery rhetoric, he went on pompously: "Let us bury the legal axe, let's bring flesh and blood together, that they may be reunited over the grave of a buried family feud. Let us bring our clients together on terms of peace. It's a sacred duty we owe our profession, Mr. Ricaby, a duty that exalts our profession over all other callings. The ministry may make peace for man in Heaven, but we are peacemakers here on earth."

"Quite true—quite true," chirped Jimmy from the far corner of the room.

Mr. Ricaby shrugged his shoulders.

"No wonder they call you the silver-lipped orator," he muttered contemptuously.

There was a knock at the door, and Mr. Ricaby went forward to see who it was. Speaking to someone in the hall outside, he said:

"My clerk? Oh, yes, ask him to come up. No—I'll go down." Turning to the others, he asked:

"Will you excuse me for a moment?"

"Certainly," said Mr. Cooley, "and, while I think of it, do your best to persuade Miss Paula that we are really acting for her best interests. She is alone in the world. Her uncle will take her into his own family, welcome her as his own child."

Mr. Ricaby, with an impatient shrug of his shoulders, went out without waiting to listen to any more. Mr. Cooley, who had not noticed the attorney's departure, went on:

"Can't you see the picture, Ricaby? Uncle—niece—bosom of family—happy home—cousins—smiling faces—all radiant with newly found happiness?"

Suddenly he noticed that Ricaby was no longer there. Turning to Jimmy, he exclaimed, in a changed tone of voice:

"You know that fellow is the damndest bore I was ever up against! His arguments to the judge were puerile—positively puerile! That one about the ethical aspect was a bird. You know it's all I can do to keep my temper with that brand of practitioner."

Jimmy nodded approval.

"You've been remarkably patient—remarkably," he said.

Mr. Cooley's face broke into a self-satisfied smile.

"Those fellows theorize and theorize by the yard. I've sat on the bench and listened to their cackle till I got so hot under the collar I'd like to jump down and bang 'em over the head with their own law books. They quote authorities by the stack and hand you all the old-time stuff from old Roman and British digest down to last year's decision. Those fellows forget that Henry Clay and Daniel Webster oratory is out of date. Marsh—while I think of it—don't make too much show of affection to the girl—not too much 'Uncle' business at the start, she may not take to it kindly."

"Of course, of course," said Jimmy impatiently. "I'm not exactly a fool."

"Not exactly—no—but sometimes perilously near," retorted Cooley dryly.

"My dear Cooley——"

"Now, my dear James, you must really be guided by me——"

"But there are limits," said the other.

"Quite so," acquiesced the lawyer, "and I apologize for not observing them, but I really can't allow you to lose control of your brother John's fortune without at least making the effort to guide you properly."

"No, of course not," muttered his vis-à-vis. "God knows how I should ever pay your fees if I did——"

The lawyer opened wide his eyes as if he did not quite comprehend.

"Pay my fees? Why, my dear Marsh, I don't want to be paid fees——"

"No?"

"You don't suppose I'm working for mere fees, do you? I'll tell you what I'm after when we get control of the estate."

"We?" echoed Jimmy interrogatively.

"Oui—oui"—snapped Cooley. "That's French for 'yes.' Do you imagine that Bascom Cooley intends to desert you after the battle is won? No—no—he will help you handle your victory."

"Quite so—quite so," nodded Jimmy vacuously, "but at the same time——"

"There is no same time," snapped Mr. Cooley; "you take your tempo from me." Holding up his hand he demonstrated with his fingers: "Move number 1—give her a regular allowance and regulate all expenditure. Move number 2—turn all her father's investments into cash. Move number 3—reinvest the cash, so that we can handle the profits."

"But suppose she—she refuses?" demanded the other.

"She won't. She daren't. If she does"— He hesitated as if unwilling to give expression to his secret thoughts, even to Jimmy—"we'll put her where she can't refuse."

"Put her where she can't refuse?" echoed his client, puzzled. "I don't understand."

The lawyer put his finger warningly to his lips.

"Hush!" he whispered, "I've got it all planned out. There isn't one chance in a thousand for us to miss fire, but you must follow—not lead. Bascom Cooley has never lost a case. He can't lose a case. Why, Marsh, I'll take either side of this case and win."

"What colossal confidence!" cried Jimmy admiringly.

Mr. Cooley looked around as if to make sure that there were no eavesdroppers. His manner became very serious and determined.

"That's the whole secret, Jimmy," he said. "Believe in yourself and that flock of sheep we call the world will follow you. The power to be is only the power to will. Whatever I will—happens, and that is a very valuable political asset. Why, I can take a rank outsider at a crowded caucus—over the heads of all the regular nominees—nominate him and jam him through to the front. I've done it—they can't resist me. When I say 'yes,' by God! it's yes! It's got to be 'yes.' Your claim wasn't worth a button when you first came to me. Well, what do you think of your chances now? You wouldn't take ninety cents on the dollar for it, would you? Well, I guess not!"

The door opened and Mr. Ricaby reappeared with a bag in his hand. He seemed surprised to see the two men still alone. Looking around, he exclaimed:

"Isn't Miss Marsh here yet?"

"No," said Cooley, with a covert sneer, "the young lady is taking her time——"

Jimmy made an effort to put on an air of offended dignity.

"My niece is perhaps unaware," he said loftily, "that Mr. Cooley is waiting. I don't mind for myself——"

Mr. Ricaby was about to leave the room to investigate, when suddenly the door of the bedroom on the right opened and Paula appeared. Her face was pale, but she was cool and self-composed. The girl's manner gave little indication of the agitation within. These men who had come to see her against her will, she feared and abhorred. That they were her mortal enemies instinct told her, that they would stop at nothing to gain their ends, she had every reason to believe. This new proposal sugar-coated as it was with proffers of friendliness, could only cloak some sinister, covert design. She would have liked to communicate her fears to Mr. Ricaby, but this unexpected visit had so taken her by surprise that there was no opportunity. But she would be on her guard. They should get nothing from her.

"Thank God!" she murmured to herself, "this is a free country. They may annoy me, but they can do me no bodily harm."

As she came in the two men arose, Jimmy feeling more and more uncomfortable, Mr. Cooley beaming with smiles, Mr. Ricaby anxious.

"Miss Marsh," began Mr. Ricaby, "these two gentlemen—er——"

Paula advanced and bowed distantly.

"Yes—I know—Mr. James Marsh and—Mr. Cooley."

"Will you—er—sit down—Paula?" stammered her uncle.

"Thank you—no," replied Paula, with quiet dignity. "I—I prefer to stand." Significantly she added: "It won't take us very long to say what we have to say."

Jimmy muttered something under his breath, and Mr. Cooley got ready for action. Taking the floor, he began pompously:

"Miss Paula, your uncle wants you to—— It is his earnest desire that bygones—bygones—and that the past be forgotten."

"We're not in court now, Mr. Cooley," answered the girl quickly. "If my uncle has anything to say to me I prefer to hear it directly from him. He does not need an attorney."

The lawyer shrugged his massive shoulders and sat down.

"Oh, just as you please," he said.

Jimmy came forward.

"Of course, of course," he said quickly. "I want you to—to come home—Paula. Your aunt also wishes you to come—she is eager to welcome you——"

Paula's face did not change its expression. She had made up her mind. Nothing could shake her from that determination. Still, it was perhaps just as well to find out just what the other side had to propose. Calmly she said:

"That much I understand, but I want to know exactly what you expect of me so that there may be no misunderstanding in the future. What is my exact position according to your idea——"

"Your position——" stammered Jimmy.

"Yes," she insisted. "My position in regard to my father's property? In other words, what are your demands?"

Mr. Ricaby interfered.

"Mr. Marsh—I think she means——"

Paula raised her hand as if she did not need any assistance.

"Mr. Ricaby, I wish to know from Mr. Marsh himself exactly what he expects of me."

"What we expect?" stammered Jimmy.

This was a question he was unprepared for. He looked at Paula helplessly and then turned to Mr. Cooley. There was a hurried whispering, during which time Paula and her attorney stood waiting. Finally Jimmy came forward:

"You will come and live with us, of course?" he said.

"Yes," she replied, with a careless nod.

"Yes, as our own child, Paula," he went on eagerly.

"Oh, yes," she repeated.

"You will have a regular allowance from the estate," continued her uncle.

"Yes."

"You will be your own mistress. That is—er—you will come and go as you please, of course. But I think it best that we—that is, your aunt—select such companions for you as—er—we deem advisable."

"To safeguard my morals, I presume?"

"No, no; just a—a social precaution. Perhaps it won't be necessary. I don't insist on it. It just occurred to me, that's all. Of course we shall be guided by your own desires, but as your uncle and guardian I reserve the right to decide what is best for your social welfare."

"What about my debts?"

"Your debts?"

He looked helplessly at Mr. Cooley. The big lawyer guffawed, and said promptly:

"They will be paid out of the estate."

"My counsel fees are very large," went on Paula. "I owe Mr. Ricaby an enormous sum."

"We'll examine his accounts carefully and decide," echoed Jimmy.

"No," said Paula decisively, "his accounts will not be examined carefully. They will be paid without question—and without delay."

Mr. Cooley shrugged his shoulders.

"We'll—we won't discuss that point now."

"We won't discuss that point now," echoed Jimmy. Turning to her attorney, he said: "Mr. Ricaby, you will turn over all the papers referring to this or any other matter that Miss Marsh may be interested in—as in future Mr. Cooley will be her counsel and legal adviser."

"Indeed!" cried Paula.

"Yes, my dear girl," said her uncle; "it would be rather inconvenient to have more than one legal adviser in the family. In fact, it will be impossible—quite impossible."

Paula shook her head.

"Mr. Ricaby is my friend—the only friend I have in the world," she said.

"That's rather a pity," answered Jimmy, with a feeble attempt at irony. He turned to Mr. Cooley and the lawyer shook his head. Jimmy went on:

"I am very sorry, Paula, but that doesn't alter the position. It's the one point I'm afraid I must insist on."

Paula turned to her attorney.

"Mr. Ricaby, will you kindly tell these gentlemen that our interview is at an end?"

Jimmy started forward.

"Paula! My dear niece——"

"I have nothing further to say," answered Paula coldly.

"Paula—won't you listen?"

"Please ask them to go," she repeated.

"Won't you reconsider?" cried her uncle. "I express my sincere regret for any annoyance I may have caused you."

She smiled bitterly. All the hate that she had nourished in her heart against this man was now heated to boiling point. Vehemently she burst out:

"I expect to suffer through coming in contact with a mean, mercenary nature like yours," she cried, "that's the penalty I pay for being 'your dear niece.' What I cannot understand and what I cannot forgive is your cruelty in blackening my dead father's memory—to stamp your own brother a lunatic and drunkard! Why, it's—it's horrible! Even the love of money in a degenerate age doesn't explain that. And my dead mother! Her name had to be dishonored, that I might be stamped as illegitimate. No accusation too scandalous, too shameful, or too degrading, could be made—because I had come between you and this miserable money!" Shaking her clenched fist in his face, she cried: "But you'll never get it, Uncle James, you'll never get it! You hear that, sir? You'll never get it—and, now—please go."

Mr. Cooley looked at her in silence for a moment, whispered a few words in Jimmy's ear, and then both men left the room.

CHAPTER X.

The excitement and turmoil incidental to the trial having quieted down, affairs at the boarding house soon resumed their normal aspect. Paula became more active daily in her Settlement duties, and was already well known as one of the most prominent and energetic workers in that humane organization. Conspicuous in the public eye as the heiress to a large fortune, the great interest she took in the condition of the poor attracted much attention in the newspapers. They printed her portrait with eulogistic comments, sent reporters to interview her, and printed statements, entirely unauthorized, to the effect that when she came into her inheritance she would devote her millions to the cause of charity. All day long she was busy downtown on her mission of mercy and even at night was frequently called away either to address some socialist gathering or attend a committee meeting.

Mr. Ricaby, ever attentive and devoted, always escorted her on these occasions, not realizing himself, perhaps, that he took keener pleasure in these nocturnal excursions than a legitimate interest in the case would warrant. Paula was grateful for his company, but that was all. For a pretty girl, full of life and sentiment, she was singularly heart whole. Of the deeper passions which disturb other normal healthy girls of her age she seemed entirely free. Men had declared her cold. The opposite sex appeared to have no attraction to her. But this was a mistaken impression. She was not cold. It was simply that the right man had not yet appeared. Certainly, Leon Ricaby with his grave manner and shattered illusions was not her ideal. She found him devoted, but dull. She found no pleasure in his society. Harry Parkes was shallow and impossible. The most interesting man she knew was Tod Chase. He was original and he interested her. His breezy manner and cheerful way of looking at things was just what her own life lacked. His mere presence, his droll utterance, and broad grin dispelled the blues and made her feel happier. She believed, too, that he was a friend. He had not called since her refusal to go and live with her uncle, but she had no reason to believe that he disapproved of her action. Perhaps he was afraid to intrude on her. She had offered to take him down to the slums to show him just how the poor people lived. Any day he might come to claim the promise.

But with all her courage Paula was far from happy. Often she wished that her father had not left her a cent, and that she was back in Paris, copying the old masters in the Louvre. All she had gone through could not have failed to affect her nervous system. She was singularly depressed. Try as she would, she was unable to shake off the idea, which soon became an obsession, that something serious was about to happen, that some catastrophe, compared with which all that had until now occurred were trifles, was hanging over her head. Never so much as now had she realized her utter loneliness and defencelessness. Mr. Ricaby and the Parkes were very kind and sympathetic, but at best they were only acquaintances. She had no real claim upon them. There was apparently nothing to fret about. Her uncle and Bascom Cooley gave no sign of life, yet still she worried. She tried to centre all her attention on her work, but always the silent question arose in her mind: "What is being plotted in the dark?" The uncertainty of suspense unnerved her so much that she was soon rendered unfit for work of any kind.

One evening about two weeks after the ignominious retreat of Messrs. Marsh and Cooley, she was sitting alone with Mr. Ricaby in Mrs. Parkes' parlor. She had been busy at the Settlement all day and returned home so tired that she was glad when, after dinner, the call of her attorney gave her an excuse for not going to a lecture which she had promised to attend.

"What do you think?" she asked anxiously. "Will they leave me alone now?"

The lawyer shook his head ominously:

"You don't know Bascom Cooley. He never admits defeat. Baffled in his attempt to keep you under close control in the Marsh house, he will scheme to gain his ends in some other way. While you are free to come and go as you please you are a hindrance to their plans. Besides, all this newspaper talk about your intention to spend millions on your Settlement work must have made them furious. They will seek other means to coerce you into passive obedience. They are both scoundrels, and there is not the slightest doubt in my mind that they have entered into a conspiracy to make unlawful use of your money. But until they show their hands we can do nothing."

The young girl sighed. Would all this trouble, the plotting and counterplotting, never end? How weary she was of it all! Mr. Ricaby heard the sigh and guessed the reason.

"Don't be discouraged," he said. "It's only the things which are worth having that are worth fighting for. Think of all the good you can do with your money when you get it."

Paula's dark eyes flashed.

"You are right," she murmured. "It is ungrateful of me to fret like this. You are so kind." She hesitated a moment, as if there were something on her mind to which she feared to give utterance. Then timidly she said: "Everything will come out all right, no doubt, but I can't shake off an uncomfortable feeling that there's still more trouble coming. I don't like that man Bascom Cooley. He talks and acts as if he had the power to do anything, even to compelling me by force to do what I don't wish to do." With a little shudder she added: "I had a horrible dream last night."

Mr. Ricaby laughed.

"Come—come, Paula! Don't let this thing take hold of you like that. What was the dream?"

The young girl's large eyes, turned toward him, were dilated with panicky terror. Her pallid face was still paler and the muscles about her sensitive mouth twitched spasmodically. In a low, frightened voice, she went on:

"I dreamed that my uncle came to see me. He said insolently that I must go and live with him. I replied that I would not, and I ordered him from the house. Instead of going, he merely laughed, and, opening the door, beckoned to a man who stood waiting outside. The man entered. He was a gaunt, sinister-looking person, with a cruel mouth and big, hollow, staring eyes that seemed to pierce me through. A sardonic smile was on his face. My uncle pointed at me. 'There she is!' he said. 'Take her away. She's mad.' I gave a scream, and woke up."

Mr. Ricaby laughed outright.

"You must have been eating something which disagreed with you," he said. "Surely you don't allow yourself to be frightened by anything so silly as that?"

Paula nodded.

"It was all so vivid that it seemed true. Suppose——"

She hesitated.

"Suppose what?" he demanded.

"Suppose they did something like that. Suppose they had me declared insane and placed in an asylum? One has read of such things. I think they are capable of anything."

The lawyer looked amused. Laughingly he asked:

"In what age do you think you are living, Paula—in the twentieth century or in the middle ages? Put all such nonsense out of your head. They couldn't do what you suggest unless a medical commission signed papers of commitment, and how could they get them? You'd have no difficulty in proving that you are as sane as they are."

Paula's face brightened. This dream had been haunting her, and she felt a sense of relief that she had been able to confide it to some one.

"I suppose it is foolish," she faltered. "But you know how it is when one gets a fixed idea. It's hard to shake it off."

Mr. Ricaby looked at her in silence, a wistful expression on his face. Had he dared, he would have gone forward and taken her in his arms, telling her hotly that he loved her, and asking her to let him henceforth be her natural protector. But there was no response in the girl's face to the tumult that raged in his own heart. Her thoughts were not of him. He checked the ardent words that rushed to his lips, and, as usual, was silent.

"Won't you have some tea?" she asked carelessly, quite unconscious of what was passing in his mind. Before he could reply there was a sharp rap at the door, which half opened.

"May a fellow come in?" called out a cheerful voice.

The next instant Tod Chase poked his head in the room. Paula rose.

"Come in— I'm very glad to see you," she said, advancing with outstretched hand. The flush of pleasure that covered her cheek was proof enough of the genuineness of her cordiality.

Tod came in, good humored as usual, and with a broad grin on his face. All in one sentence he blurted out:

"Hope I don't intrude—looks kind of cozy in here. Been trying to come round for a week, but our factory's been working overtime these days—greatest rush you ever saw—a fellow's kept on the jump—how have you been? You look just right. Howdy, Mr. Ricaby?"

He stopped to take breath. Paula laughed. It was the first laugh in weeks. It did her good.

"Take a seat, won't you?" she smiled.

Tod laid down his hat and drew up to the little circle.

"I wonder you look at me after what's happened," he said, as he drew off his gloves. "Anybody connected with our branch of the family ought to be kicked. Of course, you understand it isn't my fault. My sympathy is all yours. You see, Jimmy had looked upon this money as his own. He's sore, Cooley's sore, everybody's sore. I don't care a rap myself. I'm making an honest living for the first time in my life. I don't need your money. Why don't they leave you alone? The money's yours—that's all there is to it."

"I suppose you know that they wanted Miss Marsh to go and live at your stepfather's house?" interposed Mr. Ricaby.

Tod nodded.

"Yes—another pipe dream. That was Cooley's suggestion. I heard them talking about it. The day you turned Jimmy down he came home mad as a hornet."

"All I ask is to be let alone," cried Paula.

"Haven't you heard from them since?" inquired Tod.

Mr. Ricaby looked up quickly.

"No—we've heard nothing. What is it—some new nefarious scheme?"

Tod was silent, and looked at Paula. Noticing his hesitation, she was at once filled with apprehension. He had heard something and did not wish to cause her anxiety.

"Tell me," she said quickly, "what do you know of their plans? If you are my friend you will conceal nothing."

"Yes," chimed in Mr. Ricaby. "It would be a kindness to let us know."

Tod looked from one to the other in a perplexed sort of way. Evidently there was something on his mind that troubled him. Finally he said:

"I don't know a thing—honest I don't. They have some idea that I don't approve of their actions, so they tell me nothing. Only——"

Again he hesitated.

"Only what?" said Paula eagerly.

"There's a lot of talk going on," continued Tod. "Cooley's at the house every night, and they have long conferences in the library behind closed doors. Last night my curiosity got the better of my manners. I glued my eye to the keyhole and listened. Jimmy and Cooley were sitting at the table in silent consultation. There was another man present—Dr. Zacharie. You know Dr. Zacharie—the nerve specialist. I think he's a humbug and a charlatan myself, but he gets himself talked about, the women crowd his consulting rooms, and he's making piles of money. Suddenly your name was mentioned. I tried to hear what was said, but they spoke in low tones. Every now and then Cooley turned to Dr. Zacharie and asked something, whereupon the doctor nodded."

Paula looked at Mr. Ricaby.

"What does this mean?" she asked.

The lawyer shrugged his shoulders.

"How should I know? I wouldn't pay any attention to it, if I were you. Your uncle can surely have friends at his home without our getting alarmed over it."

"Mr. Ricaby's dead right," burst in Tod. "It's a bally shame that I told you. I wouldn't have said a word if you hadn't pressed me. The meeting probably had nothing to do with you——"

Mr. Ricaby looked thoughtful.

"Birds of a feather flock together. I've known Dr. Zacharie for years. He always had a bad name. One day he will be shown up as the scoundrel that he is. If he's in with Cooley and Jimmy Marsh it's for no good. Still, as Mr. Chase says, it may have nothing whatever to do with us."

Paula shook her head apprehensively.

"I don't know Dr. Zacharie," she said. "But I don't like his name. A chill came over me when I heard it. I'm dreadfully nervous."

Tod seized her hand.

"Now, Miss Marsh—say one word more and I'll go and kill him! Dismiss Zacharie and all the others from your mind. Why—they are not worthy to breathe the same air as you. If you don't brighten up and forget all about them I'll do something desperate. Anyhow, I came here to-night on a desperate errand. It was to remind you of a promise."

"A promise—what promise?"

"Didn't you say that you would take me down to the slums one day?"

"Yes, I did."

"Well, I'm ready to go. When shall it be?"

The young girl hesitated a moment. Then she said:

"To-morrow's an interesting day. There are classes at the Settlement home and house visits among the poor." Holding up a finger, she added warningly: "Mind, it isn't exactly fun. You'll see a new phase of life, something you do not know—the appalling misery and sordid wretchedness of a great, careless city."

"That's immense!" cried Tod, rising enthusiastically. "I'll come for you to-morrow. What time?"

"About eleven o'clock," she smiled.