The Scarlet Feather Part 22

"It was you, father--you--you who denounced him."

"Lies, lies! I did nothing of the sort. The bank people suspected him because he was a man, because they didn't think that any child of mine could rob me of seven thousand dollars--seven thousand dollars! Think of it, madam--seven thousand dollars! D'ye know how many nickels there are in seven thousand dollars? Why, I could send you to Sing-Sing for years, if I chose to lift my finger."

"But you won't father--you won't! You'll have mercy. You'll spare us. If you knew what I have suffered, you'd be sorry for me."

"Oh, I can guess what you have suffered. And you're going to suffer a good deal more yet. Don't tell me you've come up here to get more money--not more?"

"No, father--indeed, no. John and I are going to lead a different kind of life. I've come to entreat you not to press the bank for that money.

We'll pay it all back, somehow. John and I will earn it, if necessary."

"Earn it! Rubbis.h.!.+ You couldn't earn a dime."

"We'll repay every penny--if you will only give us time, only stop pressing the bank--"

"I shall do nothing of the sort. You've robbed them, not me. You must answer to them. If you've got any of it left, pay it back to Ormsby. If your husband is such an idiot as to beggar himself to restore the spoils, more fool he, that's all I can say. When you steal, steal and stick to it. Never give up money."

"Father, you'll not betray me! You won't tell them--"

"I don't know. I'll have to think it over. Get up off your knees, and sit on a chair. That sort of thing has no effect with me. You ought to have found that out long ago."

She arose wearily, and dropped back limply into the chair like a witness under fire in a court of law. The old man sat chewing the ta.s.sel of his cap, and mumbling, sn.i.g.g.e.ring, chuckling, spluttering with indecent mirth.

"Listen to me, madam," he said at last, leaning forward. "Behind my back you've always called me a skinflint, a miser, a villain. I always told you I'd pay you out some day--and now's my chance. I'm not going to lose anything. I'm going to leave you to your own conscience and to the guidance of your virtuous sky-pilot. People'll believe anything of a clergyman's son. They're a bad lot as a rule, but your boy was not; he was only a fool. But he was my heir. I'd left him everything in my will."

"Father, you always declared that--"

"Never mind what I declared. It wasn't safe to trust you with the knowledge while he lived. You would have poisoned me."

"Father, your insults are beyond all endurance!" she cried, writhing under the lash and stung to fury. She started up with hands clenched.

"There, there, I told you so!" he whined, recoiling in mock terror.

"Trimmer, Trimmer! Help! She'll kill me!"

"It would serve you right if I did lay violent hands upon you," she cried. "If I took you by the throat, and squeezed the life out of you, as I could, though you are my father. You're not a man, you're a beast--a monster--a soulless caricature, whose only delight is the torturing of others. I could have been a good woman and a good daughter, but for your carping, sneering insults. At different times, you have imputed to me every vile motive that suggested itself to your evil brain. You hated me from my birth. You hate me still--and I hate you. Yes, it would serve you right if I killed you. It would separate you from your wretched money, and send your soul to torment--"

"Trimmer! Trimmer!" screamed the old man, as she advanced nearer with threatening gestures, and fingers working nervously.

Trimmer entered as noiselessly as a cat.

"Trimmer, save me from this woman--she'll kill me. I'm an old man! I'm helpless. She's threatening to choke me. Have her put out. I can't protect myself, or I'd--I'd have her prosecuted--the vampire!"

Mrs. Swinton recovered herself in the presence of Trimmer, and drew away in contempt. She flung back the chair upon which she had been sitting with an angry movement, and she would have liked to sweep out of the room; but fear seized her at the thought of what she had done. This was not the way to mollify the old man, who could ruin her by a word.

"I am sorry, father," she faltered. "I forgot that you are an invalid, and not responsible for your moods."

He leaned forward on the edge of the bed, resting on his hands, and positively spat out his next words.

"Bah! You're a hypocrite. Go home to your sky-pilot. But keep your mouth shut--do you hear?"

"I hear, father."

"Pay them back your money if you like, but don't ask me for another cent, or I'll tell the truth--do you hear?"

"I hear, father," she replied, with a sob.

"Open the door for her, Trimmer."

Trimmer darted to the door as if his politeness had been questioned, and bowed the daughter out.

When her footsteps had died away, he walked to the bed and looked down contemptuously at the mumbling creature. He surveyed him critically, as a doctor might look at a feverish patient.

"You're overdoing it," he said. "You're getting foolish."

"That's right, Trimmer--that's right. You abuse me, too!" whined the old man, bursting into tears. "Isn't it bad enough to have one's child a thief, without servants bullying one?"

"You are the last person to talk to Mrs. Swinton about stealing."

"Keep your tongue still!"

"If your daughter knew what I know!"

"You don't know anything, sir--you don't know anything!"

"I know a good deal. Three times during your illness, you were light-headed--you remember?"

"I tell you, I'm not a thief. The money was mine--mine! Her mother was my wife--it belonged to me. Doesn't a wife's money belong to her husband?"

"Tut, tut! Lie down and be quiet. I only kept quiet on condition that you set things straight for your daughter in your will, and left her the three thousand a year her mother placed in your care."

"Trimmer, you're presuming. Trimmer, you're a bully. I'll--I'll cut your fifty thousand dollars out of my will--"

"And I'll promptly cut you out of existence, if you do," murmured Trimmer, bending down.

"That's right, threaten me--threaten me," whined the old man. "You're all against me--a lot of thieves and scoundrels! What would become of the world, if there weren't a few people like me to look after the money and save it from being squandered in soup-kitchens, and psalm-smiting, and Sunday schools?"

"Lie down and be quiet. You've done enough talking for to-day. I'm going to have you moved into the other room."

"I'll not be treated as a child, sir. I'll stop your wages, sir. I'll--"

"I've had no wages for many months. Lie down."

CHAPTER XVII

MRS. SWINTON GOES HOME