Blow The Man Down: A Romance Of The Coast
with him and went into Marston & Waller's office ahead of him, for he
had modestly stepped to one side to allow them to pass.
He heard some talk of a “board meeting.” It was plain that Mr. Marston
was to be occupied for a time. This was not a favorable moment in which
to project himself upon the attention of the financier; he needed a
clear field. Therefore he tramped up and down the corridor of the
office building, watching the elevator door, waiting to see the rotund
gentlemen go on their way. And with attention thus focused he saw Miss
Alma Marston arrive.
She waited until the elevator had passed on, and then she came directly
to him. Her expression did not reveal her mood except to hint that she
was self-possessed.
“I am not especially surprised to find you here,” she told him. “I
believe you said to Captain Downs--so he informed me--that you were
going to try to see my father. And men who try to see my father, without
proper introduction, usually kick their heels outside his office for
some days.”
There was a bit of hauteur in her voice. She preserved much of the
acerbity which had marked her demeanor when they had said good-by to
each other. He would not acknowledge to himself that he hoped she would
meet him on another plane; he meekly accepted her attitude as the proper
one. He was a sailor, and she was the daughter of Julius Marston.
“Do you blame me for being suspicious in regard to what you intend to
say to my father?” she demanded. “I tell you frankly that I came here
looking for you. We must settle our affair.”
“I am trying to get word with him about my own business--simply my own
business, Miss Marston.”
“But as to me! What are you going to say to him about me? You remember
I told you that I intended to protect myself,” she declared, with some
insolence.
“I thought you had a better opinion of me,” he protested. “Miss Marston,
as far as I am concerned, you never were on that schooner. I know
nothing about you. I do not even know you. Do you understand?”
He started away hastily. “Don't stay here. Don't speak to me. Somebody
may see you.”
“'Come back here!”
He stopped.
“I demand an explicit promise from you that if you are able to talk with
my father you will never mention my name to him or try to take advantage
of the dreadful mistake I made.”
“I promise, on my honor,” he said, straightening.
“Thank you, sir.”
“And now that I have promised,” he added, red in his tanned cheeks,
“I want to say to you, Miss Marston, that you have insulted me
gratuitously. I suppose I'm not much in the way of a gentleman as you
meet them in society. I'm only a sailor. But I'm neither a tattler nor
a blackmailer. I know the square thing to do where a woman is concerned,
and I would have done it without being put under a pledge.” He bowed and
walked away.
She gazed after him, a queer sparkle in her eyes. “We'll see about you,
you big child!” she murmured.
She entered the waiting-room of the Marston & Waller suite, and was
informed that her father was busy with a board meeting.
“But it's merely a bit of routine business. It will soon be over, Miss
Marston--if you will be so good as to wait.”
After a time the gentlemen filed out, but she waited on.
“Tell my father that I'm here and will be in presently,” she commanded
the guardian.
Before the messenger returned Mayo came in, rather apprehensively. He
tried to avoid her, but she met him face to face and accosted him with
spirit.
“Now that I have put you on your honor, I'm not afraid to have you talk
your business over with my father. Come with me. I will take you to him.
Then we will call accounts square between us.”
“Very well,” he consented. “After what I have been through here, I feel
that one service matches the other.” Mayo followed her and came into The
Presence.
Julius Marston was alone, intrenched behind his desk, on his throne of
business; the dark back of the chair, towering over his head, set off
in contrast his gray garb and his cold face; to Mayo, who halted
respectfully just inside the door, he appeared a sort of bas-relief
against that background--something insensate, without ears to listen or
heart to bestow compassion.
The girl, hurrying to him, engaged his attention until she had seated
herself on the arm of his chair. Then he saw Mayo, recognized him, and
tried to rise, but she pushed him back, urging him with eager appeal.
“You must listen to me, father! It is serious! It is important!”
He groped for the row of desk buttons, but she held his hand from them.
Captain Mayo strode forward, determined to speak for himself, rendered
bold by the courageous sacrifice the girl was making.
“Not a word! Not a word! The supreme impudence of it!” Marston repeated
the last phrase several times with increasing violence. He pushed his
daughter off the arm of the chair and struggled up. Only heroic measures
could save that situation--and the girl knew her father! She forced
herself between him and his desk.
“You'd better listen!” she warned him, hysterically. “A few days ago I
ran away to be married!”
He stood there, stricken motionless, and she put her hands against his
breast and pressed him back into his chair.
“But this is not the man, father!”
Marston had been gathering his voice for wild invective, but that last
statement took away all his power of speech.
“I warned you that you'd better listen!”
In that moment she dominated the situation as completely as if she stood
between the two men with a lighted bomb in her hand.
Mayo was overwhelmed even more completely than the financier. He
realized that her extortion of a pledge from him had been subterfuge;
her triumphant eyes flashed complete information on that point. Both
anger and bewilderment made him incapable of any sane attempt to press
his case with Marston at that time. He turned and started for the door.
“Stop that man, father. You'll be sorry if you do not! He must stay!”
“Come back here!” shouted Marston.
Mayo looked behind.
The magnate stood with finger on the push-button. “Come back, I say!”
“I protest. This is none of my business. I am here for something else
than to listen to your daughter's private affairs.”
“You come back!” commanded the father in low tones of menace, “or I'll
have you held for the United States marshals the minute you step foot
outside that door.”
Raging within himself at the tactics of this incomprehensible girl,
Captain Mayo walked slowly to the desk; it occurred to him that it was
as hard to get out of Julius Marston's office as it was to get in.
“I would never have come in here if I had dreamed that your daughter
would tell you what she has. I am in a false position. I insist that you
allow me to leave.”
“You'll leave when I get to the bottom of this thing! Now, Alma, what
new craziness is all this?”
“I am not resenting the word you apply to it,” she replied, facing him
resolutely. “I did it--and I don't know why I did it!”
“Did what?”
“I ran away. I did it because the girls dared me to do it. I promised a
man I would marry him.”
“This man, eh?”
“No. I have told you this is not the man.”
“Well, who, then?” Incredulity was mingled with her father's wrath.
“One of your trusted young gentlemen. Mr. Ralph Bradish.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“At the dances.”
“Not at our house?”
“I do not know how you are so sure of that, father,” she returned, a
touch of rather wistful reproach in her tones. “You have left me
alone in that house ever since mother went away. But it was not at our
house--it was in the public ball-rooms.”
“Hell set to music!” he rasped. “I ought to have realized that you are
still an infant!”
“No; I am a woman to-day. I lived a whole lifetime in one night on the
ocean. I know you have reason to be ashamed of me. But I'll never give
you cause for shame again. Now what are you going to say to this man who
saved my life--who did more than that? He saved me from myself!”
Marston narrowed his eyes and scrutinized Mayo. “I don't understand this
thing yet! The story doesn't ring right.” He turned on his daughter.
“How did this man save your life? Be quick and be short!”
He interrupted her in the middle of her eager recital. He had been
scowling while she talked, staring into vacancy in meditation.
“A story-book tale!” he declared, impatiently, and yet there was a shade
of insincerity in that impatience. “I would be bitterly ashamed of you,
Alma, if you had run away as you are trying to make me believe. But--”
“Don't you believe me?”
“Silence! But this trumped-up story is too transparent. You are still
acting the fool in the matter of this person, here. Now see here, my
man, you are here to-day on the _Montana_ affair. Isn't that so?”
“It is, sir.”
“I was sure of it. How did you dare to sneak into that job after I had
discharged you from the _Olenia_?”
“There was no sneaking to it! I was hired by Mr. Fogg and I--”
“You may be sure that I did not know you were on board the _Montana_.
But I cannot attend to all the details of my business. You realize,
don't you, that you are a fugitive from justice?”
“I am a scapegoat for the dirty dogs who operate for you!”
“That's enough! I am investigating this matter now? Sit down in that
chair!”
Mayo obeyed, lulled by the assurance.
“Alma, you go home!”
“I am going to stay here, father, until Captain Mayo--”
“I have listened to all the falsehoods I propose to hear!” This
rejoinder astounded his two listeners. “I see into this matter clear to
the bottom. I am amazed that you should think such a silly yarn would
deceive me for a moment.” He had pressed one of the buttons. To the man
who opened the door he said: “Tell Mr. Bradish that I want to see him
here at once. He is in the office, isn't he?”
“Yes, sir! I will inform him.”
Mayo and the girl exchanged eloquent looks; they had been leaving Mr.
Bradish out of their calculations; they had discarded him from their
thoughts; that he had had the effrontery to reappear in the Marston &
Waller offices was news indeed.
Marston took the girl by the arm and led her toward a door. “I tell
you to go home!” he cried, angrily, stopping her protests. “No, you are
going by this side door. I do not believe one word you have told me.
It's all a transparent attempt to continue your folly. I'll know how to
look after you from now on!” He closed the door behind her and locked
it.
“I swear this is all true, sir,” pleaded Mayo. “I'm not trying to
deceive you through your daughter. I did not understand what she
intended to say. I want my rights as a man who has been tricked,
abused--”
Mr. Bradish appeared, bowing respectfully. He was once more part of the
smooth machinery of the Marston & Waller offices. He was pale, calm,
cool, subdued master of his emotions as the employees of Julius Marston
were trained to be.
“Did you ever see this man before? Of course you never did!” prompted
the financier.
“I never saw him before, sir.”
“Certainly not! What have you to say to the ridiculous, nonsensical
story that you attempted to elope with my daughter?”
Not by a flicker of the eyelids did the imperturbable maker of
million-dollar checks show confusion.
“If such a lie needs denial from me I most firmly do deny it, sir.”
“You cheap renegade!” roared the captain.
“That will do, Mr. Bradish!”
The clerk obeyed the wave of his master's hand and retired quickly.
“Mr. Marston,” raved Mayo, “I'm fighting for all that's worth while
to me in life. My reputation as a master mariner, my chance to make a
living in my work. I was a fool on board your yacht! With all my soul I
am penitent. I will-”
“Enough! Don't you dare to discuss my own daughter with me!”