The Best Policy Part 22

"He didn't know I was in the insurance business until he came up here to be examined."

"Then why did you fail to recognize each other until you got out in the hall where you thought you were un.o.bserved?"

Mays did not even hesitate. Evidently he had prepared himself for this.

"Another man had got his application," he said, "and I was afraid it would look as if I were trying to interfere in some way. I did nod to him, but very likely it wasn't noticed."

"What are your relations with Schlimmer?" persisted Murray.

"Oh, I got into a little business deal with him, for which I am sincerely sorry. I'm trying to get out now."

"Insurance?" asked Murray.

"No, sir; it had nothing whatever to do with insurance."

Murray was thoughtful and silent for several minutes.

"Mays," he said at last, speaking slowly, "I don't know whether you're worth saving or not. You've got in with a bad crowd and you're mixed up in a bad deal. But you impressed me favorably when you came here, and I think you are capable of being legitimately successful. Of course, you lied to me about your mother-"

"I was very anxious for the job, sir."

"I quite appreciate that, although your motive for wanting the job will hardly bear close scrutiny. Still, you are young and I am anxious to give you another chance. Now, tell me the whole story."

"There is nothing to tell, sir," Mays replied with an ingenuous air.

"Your words and insinuations are a deep mystery to me."

"Think again," advised Murray. "I know the story pretty well myself."

"I shall be glad to have you tell it, sir," said Mays. "Your earnestness leads me to think it must be interesting."

"If I tell it," said Murray, "it removes your last chance of escaping any of the consequences."

"Go ahead," said Mays.

At least, he had magnificent nerve.

"Schlimmer," said Murray, fixing his eyes sharply on Mays, "was once mixed up in a little trouble over rebates, which are unlawful. He tried to get me to give him a rebate on a policy, but I refused, and he seems to have got the idea that I was directly responsible for the failure of his scheme elsewhere. He learned, however, that the informer gets half of the fine a.s.sessed against the company in each case, but that only another policy-holder is empowered to make the necessary complaint. It occurred to Schlimmer that, if he could find enough rebate cases, there would be a good bit of money in it on the division of the fines. Being a man of low cunning, it occurred to Schlimmer that these cases might be manufactured, if he could get hold of a complaisant insurance solicitor, for the company is held responsible for the act of the agent, and the easiest way to get hold of a complaisant solicitor was to make one. So he went to a young man who was absorbed in the study of tricky finance and who couldn't see why he couldn't do that sort of thing himself, and the young man got a job in this office. The young man, Max Mays by name, immediately began preparing rebate cases for future use. He worked among a cla.s.s of people who knew little of insurance or insurance laws and who are in the habit of figuring very closely, and this rebate proposition looked pretty good to them.

"Next, Schlimmer and Mays got a lawyer into the scheme, because they would need him when it came to the later proceedings, and they further prepared for their _coup_ by having a confederate, named Tainter, take out a policy in the company, so that he would be in a position to make the necessary complaint. In order to avert suspicion, when the time for action came, Tainter applied for his policy through another solicitor. I think that is about all, Mays, except that you were ready to spring your surprise as soon as the policies had been issued on two or three applications now under consideration. I was in the next room to you when you held your meeting yesterday, Mays."

Mays had grown very white during this recital, but he still kept his nerve, although he now showed it in a different way.

"Yes," he said, "that is about all. There are some details lacking, but the story is practically correct. What do you intend to do with me?"

Then Mays was suddenly conscious of the fact that a man, a stranger, was standing beside him. The man had emerged quietly from the room in which he had been concealed.

"There are the warrants for the whole crowd, including this man," said Murray, handing the stranger a number of doc.u.ments. "The charge is conspiracy, and, if they could have secured half the fine in each of the cases they prepared so carefully, they would have made a pretty good thing. Now, I've got the job of straightening this matter out so that both the policies and the company will be una.s.sailable under the rebate law. But, at any rate, Schlimmer has got his second lesson, and it's a good one. Look out for him especially, officer. If you keep this man away from the telephone, you'll have no difficulty in getting Schlimmer and all the others."

AN INCIDENTAL COURTs.h.i.+P

Harry Renway was the kind of man that people refer to as "a simple soul." He might feel deeply, but he did not think that way. As a matter of fact, it was stretching things a little to call him a man, for he was hardly more than a boy-a youth in years, but a boy in everything else.

Nevertheless, it is worth recording that he was a reasonably thrifty boy, although his earning capacity had not permitted him to put aside anything resembling a fortune.

Love, however, visits the poor as well as the wealthy, the simple as well as the wise. Indeed, sometimes it seems as if Love rather avoids the wealthy and wise and chooses the companions.h.i.+p of less-favored mortals. So, perhaps, it is not at all extraordinary that Harry Renway was in love, and the object of his affections was one of the most tantalizing specimens of femininity that ever annoyed and delighted man.

She said frankly that she was mercenary, but it is probable she exaggerated. She had been poor all her life, but she had no dreams of great wealth and no ambition for it: she merely wanted to be a.s.sured reasonable comfort-that is, what seemed to her reasonable comfort. A really mercenary girl would have deemed it poverty and hards.h.i.+p.

Somehow, when one has been poor and has suffered some privations, one learns to give some thought to worldly affairs, and it is to the credit of Alice Jennings that she did not grade men more exactly by the money standard. Harry's modest salary would be sufficient to meet her requirements, but Harry had nothing but his salary. A larger salary might give something of luxury, in addition to comfort, but, a.s.sured the comfort and freedom from privation, she would be guided by the inclinations of her heart. So, perhaps, she was wise rather than mercenary. Love needs a little of the fostering care of money, although too much of this tends to idleness and scandal.

"But if anything should happen to you," argued Alice, when Harry tried to tell her how hard he would work for her.

"What's going to happen to me?" he demanded.

"I don't know," she answered lightly. "You're a dear, good boy, Harry, and I like you, but I've had all the poverty I want."

"Who's talking about poverty?" persisted Harry stoutly. "I've got more than two hundred dollars saved up, and I'll have a bigger salary pretty soon."

"What's two hundred dollars!" she returned. "We'd use that to begin housekeeping. Then, if anything should happen to you-Why, Harry, I'd be worse off than I am now. I don't want much, but I've learned to look ahead-a little. I've neither the disposition nor the training to be a wage-earner, and I'll never go back home after I marry. Dad has a hard enough time of it, anyhow." There was raillery in her tone, but there was also something of earnestness in it. "Now, Tom Nelson has over two thousand dollars," she added.

"Oh, if you're going to sell yourself!" exclaimed Harry bitterly.

"I didn't say I'd marry him," she retorted teasingly, "but, if I did and anything happened to him-"

"You'd probably find he'd lost it in some scheme," put in Harry.

"He might," admitted Alice thoughtfully, "but he's pretty careful."

"And too old for you," added Harry angrily. "Still, if it's only money-"

"It isn't," she interrupted more seriously; "it's caution. I've had enough to make me just a little cautious. You don't know how hard it has been, Harry, or you'd understand. If you knew more of the disappointments and heartaches of some of the girls who are deemed mercenary, you wouldn't blame them for sacrificing sentiment to a certain degree of worldliness. 'I just want to be sure I'll never have to go through this again,' says the girl, and she tries to make sure. It isn't a question of the amount of money she can get by marriage, nor of silks or satins, but rather of peace and security after some years of privation and anxiety. She learns to think of the future, if only in a modest way-that is, some girls do. I'm one of them. What could I do-alone?"

"Then you won't marry me?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then you will marry me?"

"I didn't say that, either. There's no hurry."

Thus she tantalized him always. It was unfair, of course-unless she intended to accept him eventually. In that case, it was merely unwise.

It is accepted as a girl's privilege to be thus perverse and inconsistent in her treatment of the man she intends to marry, but sometimes she goes too far and loses him. However, Alice Jennings was herself uncertain. She had known Harry a long time, and she liked him.

She had known Tom Nelson a shorter time, and she liked him also. It may be said, however, that she did not love either of them. Love is self-sacrificing and gives no thought to worldly affairs. Alice Jennings might have been capable of love, if she could have afforded the luxury, but circ.u.mstances had convinced her that she could not afford it, so she did not try. She would not sell herself solely for money, and her standard of comfort was not high, but she was trying hard to "like" the most promising man well enough to marry him. As far as possible, she was disposed to follow the advice of the man who said, "Marry for love, my son, marry for love and not for money, but, if you can love a girl with money, for heaven's sake do so."

As a natural result of her desire to make sure of escaping for all time the thraldom of poverty that was so galling to her, she was irresolute and capricious. She dressed unusually well for a girl in her position, but this was because she had taste and had learned to make her own clothes, so the money available for her gowns could be put almost entirely into the material alone. She was a capable housekeeper, because necessity had compelled her to give a good deal of time to housework in her own home. She had no thought of escaping all these duties, irksome as they were, but she did not wish to be bound down to them. A comfortable flat, with a maid-of-all-work to do the cooking and cleaning, and a sewing girl for a week once or twice a year, was her idea of luxury. This, even though there was still much for her to do, would give her freedom, and this, with reasonably careful management, either of the men could give her. But she looked beyond, and hesitated; she had schooled herself to go rather deeply into the future.