Sevenoaks Part 55

"Permit me to say, in closing, that, as I bear you no malice, I will show you the a.s.signment at your pleasure, and thus relieve you from the danger of entering upon a conspiracy to defraud me of rights which I propose, with all the means at my disposal, to defend.

"Yours, ROBERT BELCHER."

Mr. Belcher read over this letter with great satisfaction. It seemed to him very dignified and very wise. He had saved his ten thousand dollars for a while, at least, and bluffed, as he sincerely believed, his dreaded antagonist.

Mr. Balfour did more than to indulge in his professional smile, over the frank showing of the General's hand, and the voluntary betrayal of his line of defence. He filed away the note among the papers relating to the case, took his hat, walked across the street, rang the bell, and sent up his card to Mr. Belcher. That self-complacent gentleman had not expected this visit, although he had suggested it. Instead, therefore, of inviting Mr. Balfour to his library, he went down to the drawing-room, where he found his visitor, quietly sitting with his hat in his hand.

The most formal of courtesies opened the conversation, and Mr. Balfour stated his business at once. "You were kind enough to offer to show me the a.s.signment of Mr. Benedict's patents," he said. "I have called to see it."

"I've changed my mind," said the General.

"Do you suspect me of wis.h.i.+ng to steal it?" inquired Mr. Balfour.

"No, but the fact is, I wrote my note to you without consulting my lawyer."

"I thought so," said Mr. Balfour. "Good-day, sir."

"No offence, I hope," said Mr. Belcher, with a peculiar toss of the head, and a laugh.

"Not the least," said the lawyer, pa.s.sing out of the door.

The General felt that he had made a mistake. He was in the habit of making mistakes in those days. The habit was growing upon him. Indeed, he suspected that he had made a mistake in not boldly exhibiting his a.s.signment. How to manage a lie, and not be managed by it, was a question that had puzzled wiser heads than that of the General. He found an egg in his possession that he was not ready to eat, though it was too hot to be held long in either hand, and could not be dropped without disaster.

For a week, he was haunted with the expectation of a suit, but it was not brought, and then he began to breathe easier, and to feel that something must be done to divert his mind from the subject. He drank freely, and was loud-mouthed and bl.u.s.tering on the street. Poor Talbot had a hard time, in endeavoring to s.h.i.+eld him from his imprudences. He saw that his effort to make his princ.i.p.al "last" was not likely to be successful.

Rallied by his "friends" on his ill luck, the General declared that he only speculated for fun. He knew what he was about. He never risked any money that he could not afford to lose. Everybody had his amus.e.m.e.nt, and this was his.

He was secure for some months in his seat as President of the Crooked Valley Railroad, and calculated, of course, on buying back his stock in his own time, at his own price. In the meantime, he would use his position for carrying on his private schemes.

The time came at last when he wanted more ready money. A grand combination had been made, among his own unprincipled set, for working up a "corner" in the Muscogee Air Line, and he had been invited into it.

He was flattered by the invitation, and saw in it a chance for redeeming his position, though, at bottom, the scheme was one for working up a corner in Robert Belcher.

Under the plea that he expected, at no distant day, to go to Europe, for rest and amus.e.m.e.nt, he mortgaged his house, in order, as he declared, that he might handle it the more easily in the market. But Wall street knew the fact at once, and made its comments. Much to the proprietor's disgust, it was deemed of sufficient importance to find mention in the daily press.

But even the sum raised upon his house, united with that which he had received from unloading his Crooked Valley stock, was not sufficient to give him the preponderance in the grand combination which he desired.

He still held a considerable sum in Crooked Valley bonds, for these were valuable. He had already used these as collaterals, in the borrowing of small sums at short time, to meet emergencies in his operations. It was known by money-lenders that he held them. Now the General was the manufacturer of these bonds. The books of the corporation were under his control, and he intended that they should remain so. It was very easy for him to make an over-issue, and hard for him to be detected in his fraud, by any one who would be dangerous to him. The temptation to make this issue was one which better men than he had yielded to in a weak moment, and, to the little conscience which he possessed, the requisite excuses were ready. He did not intend that any one should lose money by these bonds. He only proposed a temporary relief to himself. So he manufactured the bonds, and raised the money he wanted.

Meantime, the members of the very combination in which he had engaged, having learned of his rascally operation with the stock, were secretly buying it back from the dupes along the road, at their own figures, with the purpose of ousting him from the management, and taking the road to themselves. Of this movement he did not learn, until it was too late to be of use to him.

It was known, in advance, by the combination, that the working up of the corner in Muscogee Air Line would be a long operation. The stock had to be manipulated with great care, to avoid exciting a suspicion of the nature of the scheme, and the General had informed the holders of his notes that it might be necessary for him to renew them before he should realize from his operations. He had laid all his plans carefully, and looked forward with an interest which none but he and those of his kind could appreciate, to the excitements, intrigues, marches and counter-marches of the mischievous campaign.

And then came down upon him the prosecution which he had so long dreaded, and for which he had made the only preparation consistent with his greedy designs. Ten thousand dollars of his ready money pa.s.sed at once into the hands of Mr. Cavendish, and Mr. Cavendish was satisfied with the fee, whatever may have been his opinion of the case. After a last examination of his forged a.s.signment, and the putting of Phipps to an exhaustive and satisfactory trial of his memory with relation to it, he pa.s.sed it into the lawyer's hands, and went about his business with uncomfortable forebodings of the trial and its results.

It was strange, even to him, at this point of his career, that he felt within himself no power to change his course. No one knew better than he, that there was money enough in Benedict's inventions for both inventor and manufacturer. No one knew better than he, that there was a prosperous course for himself inside the pale of equity and law, yet he found no motive to walk there. For the steps he had taken, there seemed no retreat. He must go on, on, to the end. The doors that led back to his old life had closed behind him. Those which opened before were not inviting, but he could not stand still. So he hardened his face, braced his nerves, stiffened his determination, and went on.

Of course he pa.s.sed a wretched summer. He had intended to get away for rest, or, rather, for an exhibition of himself and his equipage at Newport, or Saratoga, or Long Branch; but through all the burning days of the season he was obliged to remain in the city, while other men were away and off their guard, to watch his Wall street operations, and prepare for the _coup de grace_ by which he hoped to regain his lost treasure and his forfeited position. The legal trial that loomed up before him, among the clouds of autumn, could not be contemplated without a s.h.i.+ver, and a sinking of the heart. His preparations for it were very simple, as they mainly related to the establishment of the genuineness of his a.s.signment.

The months flew away more rapidly with the proprietor than with any of the other parties interested in the suit, and when, at last, only a fortnight was wanting to the time of the expected trial, Mr. Balfour wrote to Number Nine, ordering his family home, and requiring the presence of Mr. Benedict, Mrs. Dillingham, Harry and Jim.

Just at this time, the General found himself in fresh difficulty. The corner in Muscogee Air Line, was as evasive as a huckleberry in a mouth bereft of its armament. Indeed, to use still further the homely but suggestive figure, the General found that his tongue was in more danger than his huckleberry. His notes, too, secured by fraudulent collaterals, were approaching a second and third maturity. He was without ready money for the re-purchase of his Crooked Valley stock, and had learned, in addition, that the stock had already changed hands, in the execution of a purpose which he more than suspected. Large purchases of material for the execution of heavy contracts in his manufactures had drained his ready resources, in the department of his regular business. He was getting short, and into a tight place. Still he was desperate, and determined to sacrifice nothing.

Mr. Benedict and Jim, on their arrival in the city, took up their residence in Mrs. Dillingham's house, and the landlord of Number Nine spent several days in making the acquaintance of the city, under the guidance of his old companion, who was at home. Jim went through a great mental convulsion. At first, what seemed to him the magnitude of the life, enterprise and wealth of the city, depressed him. He declared that he "had ben growin' smaller an' smaller every minute" since he left Sevenoaks. "I felt as if I'd allers ben a fly, crawlin' 'round on the edge of a pudden," he said, when asked whether he enjoyed the city. But before the trial came on, he had fully recovered his old equanimity. The city grew smaller the more he explored it, until, when compared with the great woods, the lonely rivers, and the broad solitudes in which he had spent his life, it seemed like a toy; and the men who chaffered in the market, and the women who thronged the avenues, or drove in the park, or filled the places of amus.e.m.e.nt, came to look like children, engaged in frolicsome games. He felt that people who had so little room to breathe in must be small; and before the trial brought him into practical contact with them, he was himself again, and quite ready to meet them in any encounter which required courage or address.

CHAPTER XXVI.

IN WHICH THE CASE OF "BENEDICT _VS._ BELCHER" FINDS ITSELF IN COURT, AN INTERESTING QUESTION OF IDENt.i.tY IS SETTLED, AND A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE TAKES PLACE.

"OYEZ! _Oyez_! _All-persons-having-business-to-do-with-the -Circuit-Court-of-the-United-States-for-the-Southern-District-of -New-York,-draw-near,-give-your-attention,-and-you-shall-be-heard."_

"That's the crier," whispered Mr. Benedict to Jim.

"What's the matter of 'im?" inquired the latter.

"That's the way they open the court."

"Well, if he opens it with cryin', he'll have a tough time a shuttin' on it," responded Jim, in a whisper so loud that he attracted attention.

There within the bar sat Mr. Balfour, calmly examining his papers. He looked up among the a.s.sembled jurors, witnesses and idlers, and beckoned Benedict to his side. There sat Robert Belcher with his counsel. The great rascal was flas.h.i.+ly dressed, with a stupendous show of s.h.i.+rt-front, over which fell, down by the side of the diamond studs, a heavy gold chain. Brutality, vulgarity, self-a.s.surance and an over-bearing will, all expressed themselves in his broad face, bold eyes and heavy chin. Mr. Cavendish, with his uneasy scalp, white hands, his scornful lips and his thin, twitching nostrils, looked the very impersonation of impatience and contempt. If the whole court-room had been thronged with vermin instead of human beings, among which he was obliged to sit, he could not have appeared more disgusted. Quite retired among the audience, and deeply veiled, sat Mrs. Dillingham. Mr. Belcher detected her, and, though he could not see her face, felt that he could not be mistaken as to her ident.i.ty. Why was she there? Why, but to notice the progress and issue of the trial, in her anxiety for him? He was not glad to see her there.

He beckoned for Phipps, who sat uneasily, with a scared look upon his face, among the crowd.

"Is that Mrs. Dillingham?" he asked in a whisper.

Phipps a.s.sured him that it was. Then Mr. Belcher wrote upon his card the words: "Do not, for my sake, remain in this room."

"Give this to her," he said to his servant.

The card was delivered, but the lady, quite to his surprise, did not stir. He thought of his little book, but it seemed impossible that his idol, who had so long been hidden from his sight and his knowledge, could betray him.

A jury was empanneled, the case of Benedict _vs._ Belcher was called, and the counsel of both parties declared themselves ready for the trial.

The suit was for damages, in the sum of half a million dollars, for the infringement of patents on machines, implements and processes, of which it was declared that the plaintiff was the first and only inventor. The answer to the complaint alleged the disappearance and death of Benedict, and declared the plaintiff to be an impostor, averred the a.s.signment of all the patents in question to the defendant, and denied the profits.

The judge, set somewhat deep in his s.h.i.+rt-collar, as if his head and his heart were near enough together to hold easy communication, watched the formal proceedings listlessly, out of a pair of pleasant eyes, and when they were completed, nodded to Mr. Balfour, in indication that he was ready to proceed.

Mr. Balfour, gathering his papers before him, rose to make the opening for the prosecution.

"May it please the Court," he said, "and gentlemen of the jury, I have to present to you a case, either issue of which it is not pleasant for me to contemplate. Either my client or the defendant will go out of this court, at the conclusion of this case, a blackened man; and, as I have a warm friends.h.i.+p for one of them, and bear no malice to the other, I am free to confess that, while I seek for justice, I shrink from the results of its vindication."

Mr. Cavendish jumped up and interjected spitefully: "I beg the gentleman to spare us his hypothetical sentiment. It is superfluous, so far as my client is concerned, and offensive."

Mr. Balfour waited calmly for the little explosion and the clearing away of the smoke, and then resumed. "I take no pleasure in making myself offensive to the defendant and his counsel," said he, "but, if I am interrupted, I shall be compelled to call things by their right names, and to do some thing more than hint at the real status of this case. I see other trials, in other courts, at the conclusion of this action,--other trials with graver issues. I could not look forward to them with any pleasure, without acknowledging myself to be a knave. I could not refrain from alluding to them, without convicting myself of carelessness and frivolity. Something more than money is involved in the issue of this action. Either the plaintiff or the defendant will go out of this court wrecked in character, blasted in reputation, utterly ruined. The terms of the bill and the answer determine this result."

Mr. Cavendish sat through this exordium as if he sat on nettles, but wisely held his tongue, while the brazen-faced proprietor leaned carelessly over, and whispered to his counsel. Phipps, on his distant seat, grew white around the lips, and felt that he was on the verge of the most serious danger of his life.