Hendrie nodded.
"Sure you have."
"Still it doesn"t matter," the simple woman went on. "There"s lots and lots of work still before us. And Angus," she smiled over at the Scot playfully, "--well, I think he"s really glad I"m going. Aren"t you?"
Angus flushed. Then his eyes met the curious gleam in his employer"s.
"I think it"s best I stay, mam," he said guardedly. "If labor troubles get busy I"d say I"m the more fitted to deal with them."
"Of course you are." Monica was quite herself again, and she laughed as she picked up her husband"s suit case. "I"ll take this along for you, dear," she went on. "Good night, Angus. Good night, Alec--for the present."
She hurried out of the room, bearing the suit case in her hand, and, replying to her salutation, the two men stood watching her as she went.
The door closed.
For some moments Hendrie did not move. His great head was slightly inclined out of its usual erect position. Angus waited for him to speak. For himself he had nothing to say.
At last the cigar in the millionaire"s mouth was tilted and he turned.
He reached out and drew the chair Monica had occupied toward him. Then he sat down quite suddenly.
"Guess she"ll find the library empty," he said, in a curiously dull tone. He crossed his legs and reached for a match. "He"s well on his way to Calford--now," he added, without enthusiasm.
Angus nodded.
"They"ve got him?"
The millionaire did not answer. Nor did he display the least elation at the success of the trap he had laid and successfully worked.
Only the stony light of his eyes remained. If he had no elation it is doubtful that he possessed any feeling of a gentler nature. He had simply done what he had set out to do--done the thing he intended, as he always did. He rarely experienced any feeling of triumph in the working of his plans. That he possessed pa.s.sionate human feelings there was little enough doubt. But these were quite apart from the scheming of his machine-like brain.
His cigar glowed under the pressure at which he was smoking, and this was the only indication Angus beheld of any unusual emotion.
The manager stirred uneasily at the lengthening silence.
"She tried to go--when you first came," he said hesitatingly.
Hendrie only nodded, and the quick glance of his eyes silenced any further attempt on the part of the other.
Angus watched him silently, and, as he watched, it almost seemed to him that somehow the man"s great figure had shrunk. Maybe it was the way he was sitting, huddled in his chair. Certainly the old command of his personality seemed to have lessened, he looked older, and there was a curious, gray look about his face. He looked weary, an utterly tired man. Yes, if he could only have a.s.sociated such a thing with Alexander Hendrie, he looked like--a beaten man.
But at last the silence was broken, and with it vanished the last sign which Angus had read so pessimistically in his employer. The great head was lifted alertly, and the steady eyes lit anew.
"Guess you don"t know much about women, Angus," he said thoughtfully.
Angus shook his head.
"Don"t want to," he replied coldly. "Guess I got all I need worrying out wheat."
The other accepted the denial, and went on--
"Maybe I don"t know as much as I ought--at my age. Maybe we"ve both been too busy--worrying wheat."
Angus smiled coldly. But there was no smile in Hendrie"s eyes. He was gazing steadily before him, his cigar poised, forgotten, in his hand.
He had definitely addressed himself to Angus, but now he seemed to have forgotten his presence.
"Pshaw! What"s the use?" he cried suddenly, with an irritable shift of his position. "It"s not the woman"s fault--ever. It"s the man"s--the dirty, low-down cur who can always trade on her weakness. I ought to know. By G.o.d! I ought to know."
He picked up a match almost mechanically and struck it. But his cigar remained where it was, and the match was allowed to burn out in his fingers. He threw the end of it away with a vicious movement.
Suddenly he looked up and caught his manager"s eyes fixed on him curiously.
"What are you staring at, man?" he cried. Then with sudden heat, "What in h.e.l.l are you staring at? Do you think me a doddering fool--a weak imbecile? That"s it!" he cried, working himself up into a sort of frenzy, and breaking into a laugh, as terrible a sound as Angus remembered to have heard. "I tell you she"s not to blame," he went on furiously. "I tell you I"ll not give her up. Say, you cold-blooded, herring-bodied Scotchman, have you ever loved a woman in the whole of your grouchy life?" Again he laughed. Again Angus felt the horror of it. "Never!" he went on furiously. "Never, never, never! Love? G.o.d, it"s h.e.l.l! Thank your G.o.d, you miserable, cold-blooded fish, you are incapable of loving any woman."
He reached out again for a match and struck it. But he threw it away from him at once.
"I can"t give her up," he said, in a low, pa.s.sionate tone. "I can win her back. I will win her back." His voice rose. "She is mine, and he--G.o.d have mercy on him, for I won"t. Say, there"s h.e.l.l waiting for him. He"ll be tried and condemned, and not a word of his trial will reach the outside world. He is utterly cut off from the world. I have seen to that. And then afterwards. By G.o.d, I"ll hunt him down. I"ll hunt him to his grave, if it costs me every cent I possess. Rob me? He would rob me of--my love? Love? It"s the worst h.e.l.l ever man blindly fell into, but--it"s worth while."
Again he broke off, and his companion waited uneasily for what might yet come. He knew that for the moment something like madness had been turned loose in him. A pa.s.sing madness, but still something to be dreaded.
He had not long to wait. All abruptly the gray eyes lit anew, and flashed in his direction.
"Why don"t you say something?" he cried fiercely. "Why do you sit there in silence? Are you afraid to speak? Bah! Say, Angus, when you told me those things I promised you, if they were not true, I"d--kill you. You remember? They were true. And because they were true"--the man"s eyes glowered--"I"d like--to kill you--anyway. Yes, I"d like to tear your miserable heart out of you, as you have helped to tear the heart out of me."
Angus offered no protest. He sat there still and watchful. He knew that the man"s brain was fighting for sanity. Now had come the awful reaction. His purpose had been accomplished, the strain was over, and there was nothing left him but the knowledge of his own terrible disaster. He felt that any ill-timed word of his might upset the balance. This man, who had proved victorious in a thousand battles in the arena of commerce, was now torn in conflict with his own soul. He must fight his battle alone. He must fight it to the end.
"G.o.d! If you"d help rob me of all the wealth I possess you could not have begun to hurt me as--as you have hurt me in this. All that I have, or am, is--in that woman"s love. All that makes my life worth while is in her smile. Do you understand? No. Or you"d never have come to me with your miserable tale." His face was working. "You"re all the same.
You"re all in the conspiracy. Oh, I could crush you, as well as the others, with these two hands. I could squeeze the wretched life out of you, and it would please me. Yes, it would please me."
Angus held his watchful att.i.tude.
The man was breathing hard, and his usually cold eyes were burning. He shifted his position spasmodically.
Presently a deep sigh came from between his clenched teeth. Again he moved, but this time it was to cross his legs. Angus saw the movement, and, all unconsciously, he sighed, too. He understood the relaxing of tension which permitted such a movement. Was the end near? Had the battle worn itself out? Had the man emerged victorious?
Suddenly Hendrie turned to the cigar, still poised between his fingers.
He smiled. And Angus knew that victory was within sight. A match was again struck, and this time the millionaire lit his cigar. The next moment his companion beheld a glimpse of the suffering heart so deeply hidden in that broad bosom.
"I"m--I"m sorry, old friend," Hendrie said, with an unusual note of genuine kindness in his voice. "I"m sorry. Guess I said a whole heap of rotten stuff to you. Maybe you"ll forget. Maybe you understand something of what I"m feeling about now. You see--I--just love her, and, well--I just love her."
CHAPTER XX
THE VERDICT
The machinery at the command of Alexander Hendrie had been set in motion. Nor was its power in doubt for a single moment. Wealth may not be able to bias the ruling of a court, but it can do all those things which can force conviction upon the mind of the most upright judge on the bench. It"s subtle working in the hands of men who live by corruption is more powerful than, perhaps, the ordinary mind would believe. No innocence is sufficient that its victim need not fear for liberty--even for life itself.