Ancestors Part 42

"What is it?" he demanded, testily. "I wish you would get a pair of creaky boots."

"A gentleman," replied the impervious Oriental.

"I told you I would not see anybody."

"But he has a card." It was not often that the cool even tones of Imura Kisabura Hinomoto fluctuated, but Gwynne detected a faint accent of respect. Somewhat surprised himself, he glanced at the card. It bore the name of one of the judges of one of the benches provided for by the const.i.tutions of both nation and State. He had a summer home on the mountain opposite and relatives in Rosewater, so there was nothing remarkable in his being in the little town on a rainy winter Sunday.

Nevertheless, Gwynne's instinct of caution, more active than usual during the past year, stirred sharply.

"Show him in," he said. "And bring the whiskey--both Rye and Scotch."

This was the most perfect specimen of the bluff, hearty, breezy, almost ingenuous Westerner that Gwynne had encountered. The judge, who had been relieved of his hat and overcoat by the admirable Imura, advanced with both hands outstretched, and Gwynne could do no less than surrender his, although he had never fancied any one less. The judge was a big man with a round jolly face, set with a sensual mouth, a pendulous nose, and merry twinkling eyes. Although possibly no more than fifty-five years of age, the baldness of his head had amplified the common n.o.ble domelike American brow: behind which Gwynne had so often groped and found nothing. This man was indubitably clever, and to a less educated eye than Gwynne's his face would appeal and fascinate. His magnetism was superlative.

"My dear Mr. Gwynne!" he exclaimed. "Believe me when I say that this is one of the most satisfactory moments of my life. I was forced to come to this G.o.d-forsaken hole last night, and had it not been for you I should have taken the morning train back to the city. But when I heard that you were in town--you were pointed out to me as we both left the train--I knew that my opportunity had come. And--my dear young gentleman--I throw away no opportunities; I throw away no opportunities."

By this time Gwynne had steered him into the largest of the chairs, and offered him his choice of the whiskies. The judge, after an instant's hesitation, accepted the Scotch; and Gwynne felt that he had a tactful and dangerous man to deal with.

"Excellent!" exclaimed the judge, and he smacked his lips. He inhaled the aroma of the cigar voluptuously. "But my dear old friend, Judge Leslie, whom I ran in to see for a few moments this morning, told me--with his customary humor--that you were as remarkable for the superior quality of your whiskey and tobacco as for the many personal qualities that have so rapidly endeared you to the citizens of Rosewater."

"Thanks," said Gwynne.

The judge changed his tactics instantly. "I cannot beat about in the dark and merely turn myself loose in pleasant generalities, Mr. Gwynne,"

he said, gravely. "I am going to tell you at once that I am positive you are Elton Gwynne. Judge Leslie would give me no satisfaction this morning, but I needed none. I happened to be employed in old Colton's bank in my younger days--as secretary--and although that was a long time ago--a long time ago!--it came back to me, when I began to hear so much about our new rancher, that his full name was John Elton Cecil Gwynne, and that he was the only son of his mother. Or--if impressions are confused after so long an interval--I may have gathered the last fact from James Otis, whom I knew very well. He and Hi, indeed, I may honestly say, were among my few intimate friends, despite some disparity in years. So, I have a double interest and, I modestly hope, claim upon you. The former at least has been accentuated since yesterday, when your likeness to Hi struck me very painfully. You are a vast improvement, I grant, for Hi was as ugly as mud and as cross as two sticks, but the resemblance is acute, odd as it may appear. Those things are very subtle, very subtle."

Gwynne had heard the keys of his secret weakness tinkle for a full bar, but while it improved his humor it did not cloud his judgment, and he applied himself to finding out the purpose of the man's visit.

"I regret very much that I have come too late to know any of my male relatives," he said, affably. "Hiram Otis, from all I hear, was an able man, if somewhat soured, and his unfortunate brother one of the most brilliant lawyers of his day. Terrible thing, this reckless drinking in San Francisco. I was told yesterday that when--a few years ago--an editor was sent out from New York to a.s.sume charge of one of your most flouris.h.i.+ng dailies, he made the entire staff go down to Los Gatos and take the Keeley cure. Then, for a time, he had _relays_ of sober men, at least, but until then he had felt himself a lonely Philistine--besides taking a hand in every department of the 'shop,' even setting type at times. But it's a fascinating old town, all the same. Too fascinating, I fear." And he managed to fetch a remorseful sigh.

The judge, who had laughed heartily at the anecdote, dismissed his twinkle for a moment, and looked at the young man with concern.

"For G.o.d's sake," he said, softly, "don't tell me that you have inherited that microbe."

"Oh no, indeed!" said Gwynne, cheerfully. "I never could take to drink now--a man's character is pretty well formed at thirty-two, I fancy, and I scarcely ever touch spirits when alone--prefer the lighter wines.

Only, as San Francisco is so convivial, one naturally imbibes a good deal, especially with friends addicted to the 'c.o.c.ktail route'--and I am afraid I shall have to give up the city for the present and stick to work."

"The judge tells me that your legal powers are really amazing--that you have acc.u.mulated more law in four months--"

"Tut! Tut!" cried Gwynne, springing to his feet and reaching the table in a stride. "Have some more whiskey, judge. And don't flatter me any more. I am afraid that vanity is my besetting weakness--"

"Thank G.o.d it is not the other!" said the older man, fervently. "And vanity keeps the heart younger than anything I know of. Lose the power of being tickled by a compliment and inflated by success, and you lose the salt of life. But I am delighted that you have taken to the law. I know your English career like a book, and although I do not pretend even to guess at the motives which induced you to fling aside not only the most promising career in England, but one of the n.o.blest of her t.i.tles, I may say, sir--and I may speak for my fellow-citizens, the whole million of them--I am deeply flattered, and gratified, that, whatever your motive, which could only be an honorable one, you have chosen this fair State as the theatre of your future triumphs. I hope I shall see you beside me on the bench--unless, to be sure, you have higher ambitions than the mere practice of law."

"The first men in the country have been lawyers," said Gwynne, politely.

"Why aspire higher?"

"Why, indeed? But I think you will. The law frequently leads either to one of the benches or into the more active field of politics. And you--with your enormous energies--you will never be content with the law, pure and simple, no matter how brilliant a reputation you might achieve."

"But honest lawyers are so rare!" exclaimed Gwynne, boyishly. "I do believe I should be an honest one. That, at least, is the intention I have set beside my ambition. I am ambitious, judge, as no doubt you have divined, and the prospect of being shelved among the lords sickened me.

I wanted to make a career for myself, so cut the whole business and came here where my American properties were. Besides, as it happened, I inherited practically nothing with which to keep up my English estates.

There! You have my reasons, judge, and you are welcome to them. t.i.tles without money are mere embarra.s.sments. Still, I really should have left, had it been otherwise--I am certain I should. I never could stand the inaction of the Upper House. Nor do I care for those compensatory honors that my position and family influence might have secured for me. And now I feel more the American every day. I have even grown keen on making money--which I rather disdained at home; for the matter of that, thought little about it. You may not know that I am--in partners.h.i.+p, as it were, with my mother and cousin--putting up a large Cla.s.s A building in San Francisco?"

He inferred that there was little about him the judge did not know, but accepted the interested "Ah!" and rhapsodized over his new interests.

The Judge listened with a benignant smile and a twinkling eye, every once in a while giving the tip of his long fleshy nose an abrupt shove, as if it impeded his breathing.

"Just so!" he exclaimed. "Just so! It is the Otis blood. No better pioneer blood in the State. Jim was the wild one. The others were as steady as rocks. Their father and grandfather--your ancestors, sir--helped to make this great State what it is. Their names will always be honored in the annals of California. Terrible pity Jim and Hi got away with so much. If they'd hung on as your mother and her mother did, Miss Isabel would be one of the heiresses. But she seems able to take care of herself, and with that face and form, I guess she can redeem her fortunes any way she chooses. I hear that young Harry Hofer can't talk of anything else."

Gwynne wondered if this were what the judge had come for, but exonerated him, concluding that he was merely rambling on in the hope of an opening.

"No doubt!" he said, heartily. "Miss Otis could marry any one she pleased. One of the best t.i.tles in England was hers for the asking, by-the-way. But like myself she is too good an American--shall I say Californian?--to live anywhere but here. She is immensely successful with her chickens, and we shall all make money on this new deal--I am certain of that."

"No doubt, no doubt. Things are booming in San Francisco. You'll get a huge rent from a building of that size--in time. Pity it has to be divided among three of you. And there will be a big mortgage to pay off first, I suppose; and it is in a very precarious district, a very precarious district." And once more the twinkle retired and he gazed dreamily at the fire.

"Oh, even golden apples have to ripen. And I have taken every precaution against fires. Have some more whiskey, Judge."

"Don't care if I do." Gwynne knew that the Scotch scalded a throat caressed these many years with the oily rye, and put as little seltzer in it as he dared. But the judge sipped it heroically. Suddenly the twinkle danced back to his eye as he turned it upon Gwynne.

"You can't delude me!" he cried. "You can't, sir. I know you intend to go in for politics. Nothing else would ever satisfy your genius. Own up, now."

"Well," said Gwynne, modestly. "I have thought of it. After my five years are up, of course--makes one feel rather like a convict. Meanwhile I can make some headway with the law: or, shall I say, build up a reputation that may be useful to me when I am able to run for office."

"Ah! Just so! Great pity you were ever discharged from your American indigenate. Then one year in California would settle the matter. Which of our parties makes the strongest appeal to you?"

Gwynne's eyes had contracted and he was staring at the stove. But his abstraction was too brief to be noticed, and he answered in a confidential tone, "Well, Judge, to tell you the truth--" And then he stopped and laughed.

"I see. You think one is about as bad as the other."

"Well, I am afraid that is it."

"Oh, my boy, they're not nearly as bad as they are made out to be--our American politics. Judge Leslie is dotty on that subject, and so are a good many of the other old fossils of Rosewater. I don't say but that San Francisco would be the better for a good spring cleaning, but the State's not nearly so bad as it's painted, not nearly so bad as it's painted."

He delivered his repeated phrases with an unctuous indulgent roll that made Gwynne long to grind his teeth. But the prospective American merely raised an interrogative eyebrow. "I don't hear much good in any direction," he murmured.

"Of course, I can understand that you have seen through Tom Colton, and that he has appalled you as much as the fossils. He's in a hurry, and if he isn't mighty careful the machine will throw him down. For all his affected simplicity he's too fond of the limelight: loves to see his name in print; and when he makes a donation to a charity or an improvement scheme he uses up all the fireworks in the State."

"I was under the impression that he was in high favor with the district Boss--"

"The district Boss is getting old, and Tom, one way or another, has acquired a great influence over him; but I happen to know that he doesn't stand any too well with the State Democratic Boss."

"If Tom were really earnest in his reforms, really had the interest of the common people at heart--although I never saw common people so well off in my life--but the point is that if Tom were really sincere he might form an independent party."

"Well, he can. It won't do him any good. It wouldn't do even you any good to work up a reform party, and your abilities are to his as a thousand to one. In fact a man like yourself would have far less chance.

They would let Tom amuse himself, but they would find you really dangerous, and the upshot would be that the two parties would unite and crush you. Crush you flat. You might be a George Was.h.i.+ngton, Alexander Hamilton, and Abraham Lincoln rolled into one, and you would emerge from the swift and simultaneous impact of those two cast-iron walls flatter than the sole of your boot. Even if you made a good running on a reform wave, so much the worse. Reform waves merely serve the purpose of making some poor devil conspicuous and recklessly optimistic, then subside and leave him high and dry--at the mercy of the ever-recuperating machine.

It's enough to make a man wish he'd never been born. I've seen it more than once. There's only one of two results. They are either so disgusted with politics that they stay out of them for the rest of their lives, or they pick themselves up and make a bolt for the machine they think most likely to give them a career. Look at some of our most ill.u.s.trious inc.u.mbents. Great bluff on the outside--which the machine don't mind one little bit--and the best sort of a party man inside; walking a chalked line with no rebellious wings on his feet. Wings don't grow on clay. But they are right, Mr. Gwynne, and not because they are wrong, either. In this great country organization is absolutely essential, and in all vast complicated organizations some chicanery will creep in. But take them all in all, American politics are not half as bad as they are painted, not half as bad as they are painted."

"Well, that is a relief. You certainly should know. But what of the great corporations that rule this State--as well as the country? The State Democratic or Republican Boss is president or treasurer of one of them, is he not? I haven't taken the trouble to be very specific as yet.

My time is so far off. Of course I do not need to be told that organizations, trusts, or whatever you like to call them, are inevitable--because they are in the line of progress; and unabused, they would be as much to the advancement of the individual as of the country.

But they have been abused, from all I can make out--quite shockingly. I am taking the course on 'The Law of Corporations' at the University, partly because I want to understand so vital a question as thoroughly as possible--and partly--well--at least, I fancied I should--for a time--for what money there might be in it--But really!"

"Oh, I don't say that some trusts are not reprehensible, and the sooner they are exposed the better. But they are sensational cases. The majority of the great complex aggregations of capital are monuments to American genius and progress; I am sure that if you waste any time on the yellow press you know how to discount it. Some of even the best of the trusts may have swollen to a size that renders them practically unmanageable, as well as injudiciously provocative of much jealousy and unrest. But the principle is sound, as you have admitted, and the great law of adjustment will correct all that is undesirable, and in a very few years. Meanwhile, get rich yourself, Mr. Gwynne. I'm delighted to learn that corporation law has appealed to you so strongly, for the money is there. I'm glad I came. I'd like to do one of your blood a good turn, to say nothing of yourself. Perfect yourself in corporation law and Leslie says you acc.u.mulate more rapidly than any hundred ordinarily well-equipped men one might name--and I can put you in the way of clearing a hundred thousand a year."

"_Could_ you?"