The Lever Part 32

"He is doing this for money. Now that he has come out into the open, I can take care of him."

"But that won't do, dear. If there is any question about the divorce, your buying him off won't settle it, will it?"

"It must," was Gorham's decisive answer.

"It can't." Eleanor rose and regarded him with an infinite tenderness.

"It can't, Robert; you know it can't, dear. If the divorce is not legal, then there was no marriage between us, and what Ralph Buckner says or does cannot affect that. We must know the facts now, dear."

"In all probability the divorce was perfectly regular. It is questioned now purely for blackmailing purposes; but I will submit to that, if necessary, rather than have the matter go any further. Don't be quixotic and play into the hands of these scoundrels who have gotten hold of Buckner, and are trying to reach me through you, knowing well that this is my vulnerable point."

Mrs. Gorham was so long silent that her husband felt his argument had won.

"Eleanor," he said more calmly, "can you ever fully realize what you are to me? All these gigantic transactions which have fallen to my lot mean only so many contests with the world that I may bring my victories back to you. The struggle is inspiring, the strife is intoxicating while it is on, but how hollow the successes except for you! My life and all its activities are centred about this one inmost shrine in which I mean to keep you, unsullied by even the implied contamination which these blackmailers would bring upon you. I will fight them with their own weapons, and, thank G.o.d, I can ward off the blow."

"Robert--my Robert!" Mrs. Gorham's voice was low but masterful in the force which lay behind the words. "Nothing can ever come to me so bitter as to make me forget that this has caused you to say what you have just said. You mean every word, and to have won such devotion from such a man is enough to make any woman's life complete. But it is your heart which speaks, and our sober judgment must acknowledge without a question the necessity of settling beyond the reach of doubt the validity of the legal tie which binds us. We need no court to settle the question of our love, my Robert--that is the real marriage which I know G.o.d only recognizes; but there can be no happiness for us if we disregard even for a moment those conventions which are necessary to our every-day life. You know it, dear, just as I do."

"It is unnecessary, Eleanor--it is unwise. We are so certain that there is no real basis for doubt."

"Would you feel the same if Alice were involved?" she asked, quietly.

"Alice?" he repeated.

"Yes; suppose this same question came up with her, would you not be the first to insist that the facts be proven?"

"What can I say?" he asked, brokenly. "This means a public trial and all the scandal that goes with it. It means a rehearsing of all that past which I have tried to help you to forget. It means pain and sorrow and suffering to you, dear--to you whom I would s.h.i.+eld with my life from just what now threatens you."

"A trial, Robert?" Mrs. Gorham asked, looking at him with a startled expression. "Do you mean that there has to be a trial?"

"Of course," Gorham replied, wondering at the unexpected change in her att.i.tude.

Suddenly she buried her face against his shoulder and burst into tears.

"Oh, I couldn't stand that!" she cried.

Gorham gently held her face from him and looked into it kindly but questioningly. "Why not?" he asked.

"It would kill me," she replied, not meeting his look.

"Is there anything which the trial could bring out which you have not already told me, Eleanor?" he asked, quietly.

"Don't you know enough already to understand why I could never live through it?"

Gorham urged no further and caressed her gently, yet there was an expression of distinct disappointment in his face.

"There must be no trial," he said, firmly. "You shall be s.h.i.+elded from that and from everything else which threatens to bring you sorrow. You must leave it all in my hands."

XXIII

Allen went over the list of names lying on the desk before him for a third time, carefully running down the column with his finger. Then he leaned back in his chair and reflected. The single light flooded the desk and cast its shadows out into the great office, but the boy's eyes never left the papers before him.

"That's mighty strange," he said aloud. "I'll bet Lady Pat got it straight, but if she did that list ought to show it."

He leaned forward again and turned to the early pages. "Courtney, Cousens, Covell, Coveney--Covington ought to come in right there." Then he turned the pages over rapidly--"Goodrich, Goodspeed, Goodwin, Gordon, Gore--there isn't any Gorham there, either."

For several moments he sat there deep in thought. Suddenly he rose and struck the top of the desk a resounding blow with his fist.

"Chump!" he cried. "Of course he didn't. Oh, I'm a great business man, I am, thinking he'd buy those shares in his own name or in Alice's. It's back to the dear old farm for me. Chump!"

He restored the papers to their proper places, picked up Patricia's bank, which he still had with him, turned out the light, and then tramped down the long flights of stairs to work off his excitement. He was disappointed not to have succeeded in this first attempt to prove his suspicions, but he found some consolation in the certainty which came to him, even in the face of this defeat, that he was on the right track.

For the next few days more immediate matters kept him completely occupied. Gorham told him enough of what had happened at the meeting to make him feel at once elated and concerned.

"You were right to a degree, my boy, and I give you credit for it; but don't think for a moment that there is going to be any change in the administration of the Consolidated Companies."

"You'll have a hard fight on your hands, Mr. Gorham. They aren't the kind of men to let you force them any longer than they have to."

"That will be as long as we remain a.s.sociated in the corporation,"

Gorham said, with conviction. "It does mean a greater burden for me and for Covington and for you, as for all those who remain loyal, but the game is worth the struggle. This is what makes life worth living, boy.

Struggles are nothing--I've had them always; it's only the lost faith which slips in under one's guard and stings."

Allen longed to ask just where Covington claimed to stand, but he dreaded further imputations as to the motives underlying his question.

Then, later, it occurred to him that he might take advantage of the new relations created by Covington himself. Watching his opportunity, he opened up the subject with a proper air of mystery.

"I wish you would advise me, Mr. Covington."

The words may have caused surprise, but Covington turned to the boy as though his remark were perfectly natural.

"I shall be glad to if I can," he said.

"You see, I don't quite know where I stand just now. There's evidently going to be a struggle between the chief and the committee, and I'd like to be put in right. How do you think it's going to turn out?"

Covington did not doubt the sincerity which Allen's words and tone apparently expressed.

"There is only one possible outcome," he replied, frankly. "Mr. Gorham will have to compromise or they will find a way to take his power away from him."

"But you don't think he will, do you?"

"He's bound to. No man except a fool is going to let his ideals rob him of his power, and Robert Gorham is no fool."

"No, but those ideals are pretty well developed."

"Of course they are, and he will hold to them as long as he can; but when Litchfield and the others begin to take real action, as they will soon, he will see things differently."

"Then you advise me to stick to him?"

Covington looked at him critically. "If I were you," he said, carefully, "I would stick to the Companies. I am with him, of course, but the clerks have no special obligation to any one. You have been closer to him than the others, but I don't suppose that is any reason why you shouldn't look out for yourself if a break comes. But personally, I'm not expecting any break."