"I never saw any one cotton so to anything as Mr. Gorham does to those ideals of his," Allen continued. "I believe he talks them all day and dreams them all night. It would break his heart to be obliged to take back water."

Covington laughed at the boy's simplicity. "Mr. Gorham was in business long before the Consolidated Companies was born, and from what they tell me he was a clever one even back there. His ideals didn't trouble him any then, yet he succeeded. He figures that it is necessary for him to test his strength against the committee at this point, and he has accomplished all he wants. He will play with them for a time, and eventually make a compromise which will fool them into thinking that they have carried their point, but which in reality will give him a still stronger grip on the Companies. Mr. Gorham has taught me a good many lessons, not the least of which is how to turn ideals into business a.s.sets. I would suggest that you don't give yourself a great deal of anxiety over his 'broken heart.'"

Covington's conversation with Allen was as frank and cordial as the boy could have asked, yet between the two there was a barrier beyond which Allen could not venture to pa.s.s. But the ice was broken, and this first conversation which approached even a semblance of friendliness might open the way for more important conferences in the future.

Gorham, during these days, was working hard to discover the real crux in Buckner's affairs. His secret-service men supplied him with a detailed record of the man's history, and reported frequent interviews between him and Levy or Levy's agents. Gorham had even seen the lawyer himself, but gained only a deeper conviction that it was a case of blackmail for revenue only. Levy laid before him all the papers in the case with praiseworthy frankness. He would even have extended his sympathy, except that his first efforts in this direction had not been received in the spirit he thought they should have been. If Buckner's statement was correct, there had been a cruel blunder on the part of Eleanor's counsel; yet unless he was certain of his ground, Gorham could not comprehend his daring to place himself in so dangerous a position.

Already the machinery was in motion to settle this point, but so far the telegrams from the Colorado lawyers threw no light on the situation.

James Riley made frequent reports, drawing liberal expense accounts each time he called, but as yet no single fact had been unearthed which gave any promise of relief. Gorham relished an open fight, but this guerilla warfare, threatening Eleanor's happiness and peace of mind, caused him real anxiety.

Eleanor's att.i.tude throughout this period puzzled him not a little. The more he thought the matter over, the more convinced he was that she was right in her position that the question of the legality of the divorce must be settled once and for all and at whatever cost. There must be some way to arrive at this point without the necessity of a public trial, but even if it came to that the facts must be established. Yet as Gorham gradually came squarely over to his wife's viewpoint, Eleanor seemed to be coming nearer to accepting the one which he had originally advanced. This was what mystified him. He recognized that what she had told him, when they first talked the matter over, was the natural expression of the woman's self which he knew so well; her later att.i.tude showed the influence of some factor in her life unknown to him. She had repeatedly been on the point of confiding to him, yet the confidence had never been given, and Gorham was not a man who could urge beyond what it was her voluntary desire to speak.

It never had occurred to him to take offence or to criticise Eleanor's att.i.tude. He wished that she would come to him with the burden which lay so heavily upon her heart, but he wished it only because he felt that he could lighten it. Ever since the cloud had become apparent, his tenderness toward her had increased to such an extent that she felt herself weakened by his sympathy and swept along relentlessly by the flood of events which crowded one on top of another. He had told her that there should be no trial, and she showed him by every word and act that she depended blindly upon his ability to make good his promise.

The calm which existed at the offices of the Consolidated Companies during the fortnight succeeding the stormy session of the committee, while unexpected, did not lull Gorham into any false sense of security.

Now that his vision had been cleared, he knew that it was their strength pitted against his own. He had his own plans for meeting this, but with supreme confidence in himself he preferred to let them make the first move. Covington had not retreated from his position that a compromise of some sort was desirable, but he succeeded in convincing Gorham that this was simply a difference in viewpoint, and that his chief's judgment would, of course, be final. Acting upon the definite authority which Gorham had forced from the committee to replace the tacit understanding which had existed from the first, he plunged ahead with renewed energy to perfect the organizations which the Companies had in hand. But while conscious that his a.s.sociates were undoubtedly concentrating their energies upon some plan which might be used effectively against him, he was grateful for the postponement of the issue, in that it gave him time to work upon his present domestic problem.

Covington congratulated himself upon the happy solution of the most dangerous horn of his dilemma. He did not wish Gorham to yield, and he found that the more he urged him to compromise, the more firmly set he was against doing it. Thus he could accomplish his purpose, and at the same time put himself on record without risk of being called disloyal, while advising him for his own best good. The others were working hard, and Covington could have posted his chief upon many interesting points had he chosen to do so. Instead, he preferred to bring added pressure upon Alice to name an early date for their wedding. He seemed to have overlooked the fact that as yet she had not given him her formal consent, but as the event was apparently accepted by her father and Eleanor and Covington himself as a foregone conclusion, the girl took no definite exceptions to his att.i.tude. He was, of course, aware of the family complications, and, in expressing his sympathy, explained that he could be of much greater a.s.sistance in helping to straighten matters out if he were actually included in the family circle.

But Covington, with all his astuteness, was frankly surprised by a piece of information which one of the committee confided to him; and this was nothing less than that unquestionable evidence had been secured that Gorham himself had, at least in one instance, taken advantage of his position for personal gain. What this instance was his informant could not at that moment say--the facts were being carefully compiled, but the evidence was beyond dispute. This autocrat, who talked of principle and honor, had been caught red-handed in the very act against which he pretended to stand; and, of course, this instance was but one of many.

Doctor Jekyll could take it upon himself to deliver plat.i.tudes upon moral rect.i.tude, while Mr. Hyde gathered in the shekels on the side!

The members of the Executive Committee were hugely pleased, and Covington no less so. All was playing into his hands with surprising directness, and he even began to feel that his approaching marriage into Mr. Gorham's family was an act of supreme sacrifice on his part. Still, it were better to safeguard both exits to the house, and Alice was an amusing little minx, after all.

XXIV

The elder Riley felt the tenseness in the atmosphere of the Gorham family, and his inability to discover the occasion for it proved trying to his soul. The mysterious visits of his son James, and the apparent confidences between him and his employer, made the old man feel strongly that, if James were not a part of the new condition, at least he was acquainted with the cause. Patience with Riley had ceased to be a virtue, and he so contrived it that he pa.s.sed an evening with his son at the latter's lodgings.

Much to his relief, he found James in an unusually agreeable mood; and, although the younger man made no effort to move from the comfortable position he had a.s.sumed with the a.s.sistance of an extra chair for his feet, the welcome extended was far more cordial than that to which the elder Riley was accustomed.

"Well, well, well," the old man e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, as he closed the door and stood for a moment contemplating the scene before him. James smiled complacently at the look of mingled surprise and admiration his father so plainly showed, as his eye roved from the new pieces of gaudy furniture to the box of cigars upon the table, particularly noting the att.i.tude which the son a.s.sumed as the nearest he could imagine to that of a gentleman in repose.

"Well, well, well," Riley repeated, coming down to earth again, and seating himself upon a near-by chair not required for James's feet, which the host had been too preoccupied to think of offering. "Things is comin' good f'r ye, ain't they, Jimmie?"

The old man had discovered a fact which James had no desire to dispute, so he admitted it graciously, at the same time blowing clouds of smoke from his over-fragrant cigar.

"They is," he replied, sententiously; "and soon they'll be comin' better still."

"Ah, Jimmie"--the old man lowered his voice--"are ye goin' ter run f'r mayor?"

"Not--yet," James replied, dwelling upon his words in such a way as to convince his hearer that the delay was wholly a matter of his own convenience. "Politics is movin' some, father, but 'tis in my private capacity that I'm makin' my present strides."

"So," murmured Riley; "an' phwat may ye'er private capacity be, Jimmie?"

"'Tis of a confidential nature," he replied, loftily.

"Has it ter do wid Misther Robert?"

"Him--and others."

"Who is th' others?" the old man persisted.

"That's my affair. 'Tis confidential, I tell you."

"Not wid me, Jimmie," Riley begged; "not when I've watched over Misther Robert iver sence he was a little la-ad, not wid me when I've brought ye up fr'm a howlin' little brat. There can't be nothin' confidential, I tell ye, when it's affectin' thim I loves best in all th' whole wide world. Shure ye'll tell me about it, Jimmie, shure ye will."

In James's present mood, it was easier to talk than to keep silent. If his father really knew the importance of the part he felt himself to be playing in Mr. Gorham's family complication, the old man's appreciation of his son's true position in the community could not fail to be enhanced. James Riley's most vulnerable point was his vanity, and the present opportunity to gratify it was more than he could well resist.

The elder Riley, without having a.n.a.lyzed his son's characteristics to this extent, was intuitively conscious of a yielding to his appeal, and he was not slow to follow it up.

"That's th' good la-ad, Jimmie," he said, coaxingly. "Ye knows how tight I keeps me mouth shut; an' phwat hits ye or Misther Robert hits me."

"Well," James replied, indulgently, blowing another cloud of smoke--"'tis his wife that it's all about."

"His wife!" the old man repeated, surprised and excited--"about Mrs.

Gorham, d'ye say?"

"That is--provided she is his wife. There is them that says she ain't."

"Who says she ain't?" Riley almost shouted the words as he rose excitedly to his feet. "Who says she ain't? By G.o.d, I'll kill th' man phwat says that!"

"Slowly, slowly," James answered, soothingly, thoroughly enjoying his father's amazement and excitement. "That's for them to settle as knows how, but it's to me Mr. Gorham must look to help him out. Now, do you understand where I come in?"

"Ah, Jimmie, ye're killin' me wid yer slowness. Out wid it, la-ad! What do they say, an' who done phwat? Out wid it!"

"The divorce was crooked, so they say; and now her first husband is here in New York and wants her back."

"But it ain't true, Jimmie--it ain't true; tell me that."

"I don't know yet myself," James admitted; "but there's a few things I do know what ought to be worth the coin to Mr. Gorham."

"An' ye're goin' ter give 'em ter him?"

"Perhaps," James replied, indifferently--"if he thinks they're worth what I do."

"But Misther Robert has paid ye already, hasn't he? Hasn't these new prosperity things come out iv Misther Robert's pay?"

"He's got what he's paid for," James a.s.serted. "These new tips come to me while I was workin' on my own account. They're worth the coin to either side."

"That's phwat ye meant when ye said there was more prosperity comin'?"

"Sure."

"An' if Misther Robert don't pay ye ye'er price, ye'll sell 'em ter th'

other feller who says his wife ain't his wife?"