Making People Happy Part 25

"It must be a matter of great satisfaction that you have at last won this strike," he remarked, somewhat inanely.

"Of course, it is," Cicily agreed, with a renewal of her former enthusiasm. "Oh, I'm so glad, because now we can pay our men their old wages! That's how we won the strike, you know," she went on, with a manner of simplicity that was admirably feigned; "just by giving in to them. All we had to do was to give them what they wanted, and everything was all settled right away."

"Ahem!" Morton cleared his throat to disguise the laugh that would come.

"Yes. I've known a good many strikes that were won in that same way."

Carrington, who had been ruminating with a puzzled face, now voiced his difficulty.

"To save my life," he exclaimed to Morton, "I don't see how Hamilton can pay the old wages, and deliver boxes at eleven cents. I couldn't do it!"

"Why, you see, that's just it," Cicily declared blithely, still following her inspiration with blind faith. "We're not going to deliver boxes at eleven cents."

At this amazing statement, the two men first regarded their hostess in sheer astonishment, then stared at each other as if in search of a clue to the mystery in her words. The entrance of a maid with the tea-tray afforded a brief diversion, as Cicily rose and seated herself at the table, where she busied herself in preparing the three cups. When this was accomplished, and the guests had received each his portion, Carrington at once reverted to the announcement that had so bewildered him.

"You say, you're not going to deliver boxes for eleven cents?" he said, tentatively.

"No," Cicily replied earnestly, without the slightest hesitation; "we're going to sell to the independents at fifteen. We've gone in with them, now." She felt a grim secret delight as she observed the unmistakable confusion with which her news was received by the two men before her.

"You say you've gone in with the independents?" Carrington repeated, helplessly. His mouth hung open in indication of the turmoil in his wits as he waited for her reply.

"Yes, that's it!" Cicily reiterated, with an inflection of surpa.s.sing gladness over the event. "Oh, it does make me so happy, because now, you see, we can all be genuinely friendly together. We're not compet.i.tors any more."

But now, at last, Morton's temper overcame his caution. He turned to Carrington with a frown that made his satellite quake; but the fierceness of it was not for that miserable victim of his machinations: it was undoubtedly for Hamilton, who, according to the wife's revelations, dared pit himself against the trust by violating his contracts with it.

"We'll see Meyers about this," Morton declared, savagely. "So, he'd go in with the independents, would he? Well, let him try it on--that's all!"

Cicily stared from one to the other of the two men, with her golden eyes wide and frightened.

"Oh," she stammered nervously, "did I--have I said anything?... Oh, my goodness, Charles will be so angry!"

She maintained her att.i.tude and expression of acute distress, while the two men rose, and, very rudely, without a word of excuse to their hostess, moved to the far end of the drawing-room, where they were out of earshot. But, on the instant when their backs were turned, the volatile young wife cast off her mock anxiety, and, in the very best of spirits, wrinkled her nose saucily at the disturbed twain.... And, as long as they conferred together, with no eyes for her, she sat alertly erect, smiling to herself, as one highly gratified by the course of events.

"Now, if only Charles doesn't spoil things again!" she murmured.

CHAPTER XVIII

Morton and Carrington were just finis.h.i.+ng their low-toned, but very animated, conference at the end of the drawing-room, when their attention, together with that of Cicily, was attracted by a noise at the door. All three looked up, to see Hamilton striding into the room.

Behind him came Delancy. At a gesture of warning from his wife, Hamilton faced about, and saw his two business foes.

"Well, well, I didn't know that you were here," he exclaimed, with a fair showing of cordiality, as he advanced, and shook hands with the visitors. Delancy contented himself with bowing to each in turn, then went to Cicily, and asked for a cup of tea. During the few moments spent in offering this hospitality, Cicily whispered rapidly to the old gentleman, who appeared mightily startled at her words.

"Mrs. Hamilton has been entertaining us again," Morton remarked, in an acid tone, to his host. "Really, she has been rather more interesting than she was before."

At this statement, Hamilton s.h.i.+fted uneasily. He turned an indignant stare on his wife, wondering dismally what new imbroglio had been precipitated by her lack of restraint.

"Oh, you needn't look at me in that fas.h.i.+on," Cicily objected, with a pout. "I didn't say anything this time, either. I only told them about our winning the strike, and--"

"What!" Hamilton brought out the word like a pistol-shot.

"Surely, you couldn't mind my telling them that," Cicily said, in a voice suspiciously demure. "And that's all I told them, except--"

"Except what?" Hamilton fairly shouted.

"Why, except about the contracts to do the work for the independents at fifteen cents--that's all."

"You--you told them that!" the astounded husband gasped. He whirled toward Morton. "Why, it isn't so, Mr. Morton--not a word of it! You must realize that it isn't--that it couldn't be so."

Morton, however, was not convinced by the earnestness of the young man's repudiation. Instead, he looked his host up and down with a sneering scrutiny that was infinitely galling.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"I see," he said harshly, "that you're just like your father before you. He could always manage to contrive some way by which to accomplish his ends, without being over-troubled with scruples. Only, he would never have confided his business secrets to a woman."

Hamilton turned reproachful eyes on his wife.

"Cicily," he cried entreatingly, "I want you to tell Mr. Morton--"

But that resourceful woman interrupted him. Her face showed a shocked amazement, as she spoke swiftly:

"Charles, do you mean that you want me to--?" She did not finish the sentence; but the inference was so plain that Morton did not hesitate to make use of it.

"Trying to make your wife lie for you won't do any good, Hamilton," he advised, disagreeably.

But, if Hamilton had been perplexed before, he was now suddenly dazed by the inexplicable conduct of Delancy, who advanced nimbly from the tea-table, caught Hamilton by the arm, and drew him apart a little. He spoke hurriedly, in a low voice, but intentionally pitched so that Morton could overhear.

"It's no good, my boy," he declared, warningly. "You see, the fact of the matter is, you're caught--caught with the goods on, as the police say. And, when you're caught with the goods, don't waste time in lying.

It makes a bad business worse, that's all." Having uttered these extraordinary words of advice to his marveling nephew, the old gentleman turned jauntily on the seething Morton. "Well, what are you going to do about it?" he demanded, composedly.

Morton, frantic over the trickery that, as he believed, had been attempted against him, made no pretense of suavity in this emergency. In his vindictiveness, he spoke with a candor unusual to him in his business dealings.

"Do?" he rasped. "I'll show you mighty quick what I'll do! You seem to forget, Hamilton, that we have a contract with you. You are under agreement with us to put all your work out for us at eleven cents a box."

Hamilton would have entered a violent protest against any purpose of evading his obligations; but Delancy silenced the young man by an imperative gesture, and took it on himself to reply, bearing in mind the whispered directions of his niece. He addressed Morton in a condescending fas.h.i.+on that was unspeakably annoying to that important personage.

"I never heard of any such contract," he declared blandly, "and I have a bit of money invested in the plant, too.... Has he one, Charles?"

"He has a verbal one," Hamilton answered, more and more bewildered by the progress of affairs. "He wouldn't give a written one."

"Huh! A verbal agreement!" Delancy sniffed. "Well, Morton, may I ask how you are going to work to prove this verbal agreement?"

"We'll show that he did the work at that price," was the aggressive answer. "That will suffice."

"Very good," Delancy said, judicially. "Only, Morton, I venture to predict that you can't prove your verbal contract--not by any manner of means.... Who was with you at the time when that verbal agreement was made between you and Hamilton, as you allege?"