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A Woman Intervenes

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The girl's amazement at seeing her enemy there was so great that the
obvious act of shutting the door in his face did not occur to her until
it was too late, and Fleming had carelessly placed his large foot in the
way of its closing.

'How dare you come here, when I refused to see you?' she cried, with her
eyes ablaze.

'Oh, I understood the messenger to say I might come,' replied the
untruthful politician. 'You see, it's not a personal matter, but the very
biggest sensation that ever went under the ocean on a cable, and I
thought--Well, you know, I felt I had done you--quite unintentionally--a
mean trick on board the _Caloric_ and this was kind of to make up for it,
don't you know.

'You can never repair what you have done.'

'Oh yes, I can, Jennie.'

'I shall be obliged to you if you remember that my name is Miss
Brewster,' said the girl, drawing herself up; but Fleming noticed, with
relief, that since he had mentioned the sensation she had made no motion
to close the door, while the eagerness of the newspaper woman was
gradually replacing the anger with which she had at first regarded him.

'All right, Miss Brewster. I meant no disrespect, you know; and,
honestly, I would rather give you a big item than anybody else.'

'Oh, you're very honest--I know that.'

'Well, I am, you know, Jen--I mean Miss Brewster; although I tell you
it don't pay in politics any more than in the newspaper business.'

'If you only came to speak like that of the newspapers, I don't care to
listen to you.'

'Wait a minute. I don't blame you for being angry----'

'Thank you.'

'But, all the same, if you let this item get away, you'll be sorry. I'm
giving you the straight tip. I could get more gold than you ever saw for
giving this snap away, yet here you're treating me as if I were----'

'A New York politician. Why do you come to me with this valuable piece
of information? Just because you have a great regard for me, I suppose?'

'That's right. That's it exactly.'

'I thought so. Very well. There is a parlour on this floor where we can
talk without being interrupted. Come with me.'

Jennie closed the door and walked down the passage, followed by Fleming,
who smiled with satisfaction at his own tact and shrewdness, as, indeed,
he had every right to do.

In the deserted sitting-room was a writing-table, and Jennie sat down
beside it, motioning Fleming to a chair opposite her.

'Now,' she said, drawing some paper towards her, and taking up a pen,
'what is this important bit of news?'

'Well, before we begin,' replied Fleming, 'I would like to tell you why I
interfered on shipboard and let that Englishman know who you were.'

'Never mind that. Better let it rest.' There was a flash of anger in the
girl's eye, but, in spite of it, Fleming continued. He was a persistent
man.

'But it has some bearing on what I'm going to tell you. When I saw you on
board the _Caloric_, my heart went down into my boots. I thought the game
was up, and that you were after me. I was bound to find out whether the
_Argus_ knew anything of my trip or not, and whether it had put you on my
track. Only five men in New York knew of my journey across, and as a good
deal depended on secrecy, I had to find out in some way whether you were
there for the purpose of--well, you know. So I spoke to the Englishman,
and raised a hornets' nest about my ears; but I soon saw you had no
suspicion of what I was engaged in, otherwise I would have had to
telegraph to certain persons then in London, and scatter them.'

'Dear me! And what villainy were you concocting? Counterfeiting?'

'No; politics. Just as bad, I suppose you think. Now, do you know where
Crupper is?'

'The Boss of New York? I heard before I left that he was at Carlsbad for
his health.'

'He was there,' said Fleming mysteriously; 'but now----'

The politician solemnly pointed downwards with his forefinger.

'What! Dead?' cried Jennie, the ominous motion of Fleming's finger
naturally suggesting what all good people believed to be the arch-thief's
ultimate destination.

'No,' said Fleming, laughing; 'he's in this hotel.'

'Oh!'

'Yes, and Senator Smollet, leader of the Conscientious Party, is here
too, although you don't meet them in the halls as often as you do me.
These good men supposed to be political opponents, are lying low and
saying nothing.'

'I see. And they've had a conference.'

'Exactly. Now, it's like this.' Fleming pulled a sheet of paper towards
him, and drew on it an oval. 'That's New York. We'll call it a
pumpkin-pie, if you like, the material of which it is composed being
typical of the heads of its conscientious citizens. Or a pigeon-pie,
perhaps, for the New Yorker is made to be plucked. Well, look here.'
Fleming drew from a point in the centre several radiating lines. 'That's
what Crupper and Smollet are doing in London. They're dividing the pie
between the two parties.'

'That's very interesting, but how are they going to deliver the pieces?'

'Simple as shelling peas. You see, our great pull is the conscientious
citizen--the voter who wants to vote right, and for a good man. If it
weren't for the good men as candidates and the good men as voters, New
York politics would be a pretty uncertain game. You see, the so-called
respectable element in both parties is our only hope. Each believes in
his party, thinks his crowd is better than the other fellow's, so all you
have to do is to nominate an honest man to represent each party, and then
that divides what they call the reputable vote, and we real politicians
get our man in between the two. That's all there is in New York politics.
Well, Senator Smollet threatened not to put up a good man on the
conscientious ticket, and that would have turned the whole unbribable
vote of both parties against us, so we had to make a deal with him, and
throw in the next Presidential election. Crupper's no hog; he knows when
he's had plenty, and New York's good enough for him. He don't care who
gets the Presidency.'

'And this conference has been held?'

'That's right. It took place in this hotel.'

'The bargain was made, I suppose?'

'It was. The pie was divided.'

'And you didn't get a slice?'

'Oh, I beg your pardon, I did!'

'Then, why do you come to me and tell me all this--if it's true?'

Honest indignation shone in Fleming's face.

'_If_ it's true? Of course it's true. Why do I come to you? Because I
want to be friendly with you, that's why.'

Jennie, nibbling the end of her pen, looked thoughtfully across at him
for a few moments, then slowly shook her head.

'If you get me to believe that, Mr. Fleming, I'll not cable a word. No, I
must have an adequate motive, for I won't cable anything I don't believe
to be absolutely true.'

'I assure you, Jennie----'

'Wait a moment. You say you are promised your share in the new deal, but
it is not as big a slice as what you have now. It stands to reason that,
if Crupper is to divide with Smollet's rascals, each of Crupper's rascals
must content himself with a smaller piece. The greater the number of
thieves, the smaller each portion of booty. You didn't see that when you
left New York, and therefore you were afraid of publicity. You see it
now, and you want a sensational article published, so that Senator
Smollet will be forced to deny it, or further arouse the suspicions of
the honest men in his party. In either case publicity will nullify the
results of the deal, and you will hold the share you have. As you didn't
know any of the regular London representatives of the New York papers,
you couldn't trust them not to tell on you, and so you came to me. Now
that I see a good substantial selfish motive for your action, I am ready
to believe you.'

An expression of dismay at first overspread the countenance of the
politician, but this gave way to a look of undisguised admiration as the
girl went on.

'By Jove, Jennie!' he cried, bringing his fist down on the table when she
had finished; 'you're wasted in the newspaper business; you ought to be a
politician! Say, girl, if you marry me, I'll be President of the United
States yet.'

'Oh no, you wouldn't,' said Jennie, quite unabashed by his handsome, if
excited, proposal. 'No corrupt New York politician will ever be President
of the United States. You have the great honest bulk of the people to
deal with there, and I'm Democrat enough to believe in them when it comes
to big issues, however much you may befog them in small; you can't fool
all people for all time, Mr. Fleming, as a man who was not in little
politics once said. Every now and then the awakened people will get up
and smash you.'

Fleming laughed boisterously.

'That's just it,' he said. 'It's every now and then. If they did it every
year I would have to quit politics. But will you send the particulars of
this meeting to the _Argus_ without giving me away?'

'Yes, I recognise its importance. Now, I want you to give me every
detail--the number of the room they met in, the exact hour, and all that.
What I like to get in a report of a secret meeting is absolute accuracy
in small matters, so that those who were there will know it is not
guesswork. That always takes the backbone out of future denials. I'll
mention your name----'

'Bless my soul, don't do that!'

'I must say you were present.'

'Why?'

'Why? Dear me! you can't be so stupid as not to see that, if your name
is left out, suspicion will at once point to you as the divulger?'

'Yes I suppose that is so.'

'And this man is a ruler in one of the greatest cities in the world! Go
on, Mr. Fleming; who else was there besides Crupper, Smollet, and
yourself?'

The account--two columns and a half--was a bombshell in political New
York the morning it appeared in the _Argus_. Senator Smollet cabled from
Paris that there wasn't a word of truth in it, that he wasn't in London
on the date mentioned, and had never seen Crupper there or elsewhere.
Crupper cabled from Carlsbad that he was ill, and had not been out of
bed for a month. He would sue the _Argus_ for libel, which, by the way,
he never did. The reporters flocked to meet Fleming when his steamer
came in, but of course _he_ knew nothing about it; he had been across
the ocean solely on private business that had no connection with
politics. He knew nothing of Crupper's whereabouts, but he knew _one_
thing, which was that Crupper was too honest and honourable a man to
traffic with the enemy.

Notwithstanding all these denials, the report bore the marks of truth on
its face, and everybody believed it, although many pretended not to. The
division of the spoils aroused the greatest consternation and indignation
among Crupper's own following, and a deputation went over to see the old
man.

Meanwhile, the _Argus_, with much dignity of diction, explained that it
stood for the best interests of the people, and in the people's cause was
fearless. It defied all and sundry to bring libel suits if they wanted
to; it was prepared to battle for the people's rights. And its
circulation went up and up, its many web presses being taxed to their
utmost in supplying the demand. Thus are the truly good rewarded.

A great newspaper is as lavishly generous as a despotic monarch, to those
who serve it well, and the cheque which Jennie cashed when Lady Willow
accompanied her to the City lined her purse with banknotes to a fulness
that receptacle had never known before.

After a few weeks with Lady Willow, Jennie seemed to tire of the
frivolities of society, and even of the sedate company of the good lady
with whom she lived. She announced that she was going to Paris for a week
or two, but, owing to uncertainty of address, her letters were not to be
forwarded. She merely took a hand-bag, leaving the rest of her luggage
with Lady Willow, who was thus sustained by the hope that her paying
guest would soon return.

Jennie took a hansom to Charing Cross, but instead of departing on the
Paris express, she hailed a four-wheeler, and, giving a West End address
to the driver, entered the closed vehicle.




CHAPTER XXIV.


On the big plate-glass windows of the new rooms there soon appeared, in
gilt letters with black edges, the words, 'Canadian Mica Mining Company,
Limited: London Offices.' But the workmen who were finishing the
interior were not so quick as the painters and gilders. The new offices
took a long time to prepare, and both Kenyon and Wentworth chafed at the
delay, because Longworth said nothing could be done until the rooms
were occupied.

'It is like this, Longworth,' said Wentworth to him: 'every moment is of
value. Time is running on, and we have not for ever in which to form
this company.'

'And you must remember,' replied young Mr. Longworth, gazing
reproachfully at him through his glittering monocle, 'that I am equally
interested in this project with you. It is just as much to my interest to
save time as it is to yours. You must not worry about the matter, Mr.
Wentworth; everything is all right. The men are doing a good job for us,
and it will not be long before their work is completed. As I have told
you time and again, a great deal depends on the appearance we present to
the public. We have nearly the best offices in the City. The workmen have
certainly taken longer than I expected they would, but, you see, they
have a great deal of work on hand. When we get this started it will not
take long. I, in the meanwhile, have not been idle. At least half a dozen
moneyed men are ready to go in with us on this project. The moment the
offices are finished we will have a meeting of the proposed shareholders.
If they subscribe sufficiently large amounts--and I think they will--all
the rest is a mere matter of detail which our solicitors will attend to.
But if you imagine that you and Mr. Kenyon can manage everything better
than I am doing, you are perfectly at liberty to go ahead. I am sure I
have no desire to monopolize all the work. What have _you_ done, for
instance? What has Mr. Kenyon done?'

'Kenyon, as I think you know, has got all the facts in reference to the
demand for the mineral, and I have arranged them. We have had everything
printed as you suggested, and the papers are ready. They were delivered
at my office to-day.'

'Very well,' answered young Longworth; 'we are getting on. That is so
much done which will not have to be done over again. Perhaps it will be
as well to send me some of the printed matter, so that I can give it to
the men I was speaking of. Meanwhile, don't worry about the offices; they
will be ready in good time.'

Wentworth and Kenyon visited the new offices time and again, but still
the work seemed to drag. At last Wentworth said very sharply to the
foreman:

'Unless this is finished by next Monday, we will have nothing to do with
it.'

The foreman seemed astonished.

'I understood from Mr. Longworth,' he said, 'from whom we take our
instructions, that there was no particular hurry about this job.'

'Well, there is a particular hurry. We must be in here by the first of
next week, and if you have not finished by that time, we shall have to
come in with it unfinished.'

'In that case,' said the foreman, 'I will do the best I can. I think we
can finish it this week.'

And finished it was accordingly.

When Kenyon entered his new offices, he found them rather oppressive for
so modest a man as himself. Wentworth laughed at his doleful expression
as he viewed the general grandeur of his surroundings.

'What bothers me,' said John, 'is knowing that all this has to be paid
for.'

'Ah, yes,' answered Wentworth; 'but by the time the debts become due I
hope we shall have plenty of money.'

'I must confess I do not understand Longworth in this matter. He seems to
be doing nothing; at least, he has nothing to show for what he has done,
and he does not appear to realize that time is an object with us; in
fact, that our company-forming has really become a race against time.'

'Well, we shall see very shortly what he is going to do. I have sent a
messenger for him to meet us here--he ought to be here now--and we must
certainly push things. There is no time to lose.'

'Has he said anything to you--he talks more freely with you than he does
to me--about what the next move is to be?'

'No; he has said nothing.'

'Well, don't you see the situation in which we stand? We are practically
doing nothing--leaving everything in his hands. Now, if he should tell us
some fine day that he can have nothing more to do with our project (and I
believe he is quite capable of it), here we are with our time nearly
spent, deeply in debt, and nothing done.'

'My dear John, what a brain you have for conjuring up awful
possibilities! Trust me, Longworth won't act in the way you suggest. It
would be dishonourable, and he is, so far as I know, an honourable man of
business. I think you take a certain prejudice against a person, and then
can see nothing good in anything he does. Longworth told me the other day
that he had five or six people who are ready to go into this business
with us, and if such is the case he has certainly done his share.'

'Yes, I admit that. Did he give you their names?'

'No, he did not.'

'The thing that troubles me is our own helplessness. We seem, in some way
or other, to have been shoved into the background.'

'So far from that being the case,' said Wentworth, 'Longworth told me
that, if anything suggested itself to us, we were to go ahead with it. He
asked what you had done and what I had done, and I told him. He seemed
quite anxious that we should do everything we could, as he is doing.'

'Well, but, don't you see, the situation is this: if we make a move at
all, we may do something of which he does not approve. Haven't you
noticed that whenever I suggest anything, or whenever you suggest
anything, for that matter, he always has something counter to it? And I
don't like the solicitors he has engaged for this business. They are what
is known as "shady"; you know that as well as I do.'

'Bless me, John! then suggest something yourself if you have such dark
suspicions of Longworth. I'm sure I'm willing to do anything you want
done. Suggest something.'

Before John could make the required suggestion, the messenger Wentworth
had sent to young Longworth returned.

'His uncle says, sir,' began the messenger, 'that Master William has gone
to the North, and will not be back for a week.'

'A week!' cried both the young men together.

'Yes, sir, a week was what he said. He left a note to be given to either
of you if you called. Here is the note, sir.'

Wentworth took the envelope handed to him and tore it open. The contents
ran thus:

'I have been suddenly called away to the North, and may be gone for a
week or ten days. I am sorry to be away at this particular juncture, but
as it is not likely that the men will have the offices finished before I
come back, no great harm will be done. Meanwhile I shall see several
gentlemen I have in my mind's eye, men that seldom come to London, who
will be of great service to us. If you think of anything to forward the
mica-mine, pray go on with it. You can send any letters for me to my
uncle, and I shall get them. As there is no hurry in the matter of time,
however, I should strongly advise that nothing be done until my return,
when we can all go at the business with a will.

'Yours truly,

'WILLIAM LONGWORTH.'

When Wentworth had finished reading this letter, the two young men looked
at each other.

'What do you make of that?' said Kenyon.

'I'm sure I do not know. In the first place, he is gone for a week.'

'Yes; that one thing is certain.'

'Well now, John, one of two things has to be done. We have either to
trust this Longworth, or we have to go on alone without him. Which is
it to be?'

'I am sure I don't know,' answered Kenyon.

'But, my dear fellow, we have come to a point when we must decide. You
are, evidently, suspicious of Longworth. What you say really amounts to
this: that he, for some reason of his own, which I confess I cannot see
or understand, desires to delay forming this company until it is too
late.'

'I didn't say that.'

'You say what practically amounts to that. Either he is honest or he is
not. Now, we have to decide to-day, and here, whether we are going to
ignore him and go on with the forming of the company, or work with him.
Unless you can give some good reason for doing otherwise, I propose to
work with him. I think it will be very much worse if he leaves us now
than if he had never gone into it. People will ask why he left.'

'Probably he wouldn't leave, even if you wanted him to do so. He has your
signature to an agreement, and you have his.'

'Certainly.'

'I do not see how we can help ourselves.'

'Then I think these suspicions should be dropped, because you cannot work
with a man whom you suspect of being a rascal.'

'I quite admit of the justice of that, so I shall say nothing more.
Meanwhile, do you propose to wait until he comes back?'

'I shall write him to-night and ask him what he intends to do. I shall
tell him, as I have told him before, that time is pressing, and we want
to know what is being done.'

'Very well,' said John; 'I will wait till you get the answer to your
letter. In the meantime, I do not see that there is anything to do but
occupy this gorgeous office as well as I can, and wait to see what
turns up.'

'That is my own idea. I think, myself, it is rather unfair to suspect
a man of being a villain when he has really done nothing to show that
he is one.'

To this John made no answer.

The next day Kenyon occupied the new offices, and set himself to the
task of getting accustomed to them. The first day a few people dropped
in, made inquiries about the mine, took some printed matter, and
generally managed to ask several questions to which Kenyon was unable to
reply. On the second day a number of newspaper men called--advertising
canvassers, most of them, who left cards or circulars with Kenyon,
showing that unless a commercial venture was advertised in their
particular papers it was certain not to be a success. One very swell
individual, with a cast of countenance that betokened a frugal,
money-making, and shrewd race, asked Kenyon for a private interview. He
said he belonged to the _Financial Field_, the great newspaper of London,
which was read by every investor both in the City and in the country. All
he wanted was some particulars of the mine.

Had the company been formed yet?

No, it had not.

When did they intend to go to the public?

That Kenyon could not say.

What was the peculiarity about the mine which constituted its
recommendation to investors?

Kenyon said the full particulars would be found in the printed sheet he
handed him, and with profuse thanks the newspaper man put it in his
pocket.

How had the mine paid in previous years?

It had paid a small dividend.

On what amount?

That Kenyon was not prepared to answer.

How long had it been in operation?

For several years.

Had it ever been placed on the London market before?

Not so far as Kenyon was aware.

Who was at present interested in the mine?

That Mr. Kenyon did not care to answer, and he further stated, so far as
giving out advertisements was concerned, he was not yet prepared to do
any advertising. The visitor, who had taken down these notes, said his
object was not to get an advertisement, but to obtain information about
the mine. People could advertise in his paper or not, as they chose. The
journal was such a well-known medium for reaching investors that everyone
who knew his business advertised in it as a matter of course, and so they
kept no canvassers, and made no applications for advertisements.

'The chances are,' said the newspaper man, as he took his leave, 'that
our editor will write an editorial on this mine, and, in order that there
may be no inaccuracy, I shall bring it to you to read, and shall be very
much obliged if you will correct any mistakes.'

'I shall be glad to do so,' returned Kenyon, as the representative of the
_Financial Field_ took his leave.

The newspaper men were rather hard to please, and to get rid of; but John
had a visitor on the afternoon of the second day who almost caused his
wits to desert him. He looked up from his desk as the door opened, and
was astonished to see the smiling face of Edith Longworth, while behind
her came the old lady who had been an occupant of the carriage when John
had taken his drive to the west.

'You did not expect to see me here among the investors who have been
calling upon you, Mr. Kenyon, did you?'

Kenyon held out his hand, and said:

'I am very pleased indeed to see you, whether you come as an investor or
not.'

'And so this is your new office?' she cried, looking round. 'How you have
blossomed out, haven't you? These offices are as fine as any in the
City.'

'Yes,' said John; 'they are too fine to suit me.'

'Oh, I don't see why you should not have handsome offices as well as
anyone else. You have been in my father's place of business, of course.
But it is not so grand as these rooms.'

'I think that helps to show the absurdity of ours. Your father's house is
an old-standing one, and this gives us an air of new riches which, I must
confess, I don't like, especially as we have not the riches.'

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