As soon as Sam and I were alone, I apologized. “I hope you'll tell your sister I'm sorry for that break,” said I.
“Oh, that's all right,” he answered, easy again, now that we were away from the others. “You meant well—and motive's the thing.”
“Motive—hell!” cried I in my anger at myself. “Nobody but a man's God knows his motives; he doesn't even know them himself. I judge others by what they do, and I expect to be judged in the same way. I see I've got a lot to learn.” Then I suddenly remembered the Travelers Club, and asked him what he'd done about it.
“I—I've been—thinking it over,” said he. “Are you sure you want to run the risk of an ugly cropper, Matt?”
I turned him round so that we were facing each other. “Do you want to do me that favor, or don't you?” I demanded.
“I'll do whatever you say,” he replied. “I'm thinking only of your interests.”
“Let me take care of them,” said I. “You put me up at that club to-morrow. I'll send you the name of a seconder not later than noon.”
“Up goes your name,” he said. “But don't blame me for the consequences.”
And my name went up, with Mowbray Langdon's brother, Tom, as seconder. Every newspaper in town published the fact, most of them under big black headlines. “The fun's about to begin,” thought I, as I read. And I was right, though I hadn't the remotest idea how big a ball I had opened.
V. DANGER SIGNALS
At that time I did not myself go over the bills before the legislatures of those states in which I had interests. I trusted that work to my lawyers—and, like every man who ever absolutely trusted an important division of his affairs to another, I was severely punished. One morning my eye happened to light upon a minor paragraph in a newspaper—a list of the “small bills yesterday approved by the governor.” In the list was one “defining the power of sundry commissions.” Those words seemed to me somehow to spell “joker.” But why did I call up my lawyers to ask them about it? It's a mystery to me. All I know is that, busy as I was, something
Prev.
Back
Top