Chapter 4

by Upton Sinclair

　　Two or three days after this Montague met Jim Hegan at a directors'meeting. He watched him closely, but Hegan gave no sign ofconstraint. He was courteous and serene as ever. "By the way, Mr.Montague," he said, "I mentioned that railroad matter to a friendwho is interested. You may hear from him in a few days."

　　"I am obliged to you," said the other, and that was all.

　　The next day was Sunday, and Montague came to take Lucy to church,and told her of this remark. He did not tell her about the episodewith Colonel Cole, for he thought there was no use disturbing her.

　　She, for her part, had other matters to talk about. "By the way,Allan," she said, "I presume you know that the coaching parade isto-morrow."

　　"Yes," said he.

　　"Mr. Ryder has offered me a seat on his coach," said Lucy.--"Isuppose you are going to be angry with me," she added quickly,seeing his frown.

　　"You said you would go?" he asked.

　　"Yes," said Lucy. "I did not think it would be any harm. It is sucha public matter--"

　　"A public matter!" exclaimed Montague. "I should think so! To sit upon top of a coach for the crowds to stare at, and for thirty orforty newspaper reporters to take snap-shots of! And to haveyourself blazoned as the fascinating young widow from Mississippiwho was one of Stanley Ryder's party, and then to have all Societylooking at the picture and winking and making remarks about it!"

　　"You take such a cynical view of everything," protested Lucy. "Howcan people help it if the crowds will stare, and if the newspaperswill take pictures? Surely one cannot give up the pleasure of goingfor a drive--"

　　"Oh, pshaw, Lucy!" said Montague. "You have too much sense to talklike that. If you want to drive, go ahead and drive. But when a lotof people get together and pay ten or twenty thousand dollars apiecefor fancy coaches and horses, and then appoint a day and send outnotice to the whole city, and dress themselves up in fancy costumesand go out and make a public parade of themselves, they have noright to talk about driving for pleasure."

　　"Well," said she, dubiously, "it's nice to be noticed."

　　"It is for those who like it," said he; "and if a woman chooses toset out on a publicity campaign, and run a press bureau, and makeherself a public character, why, that's her privilege. But forheaven's sake let her drop the sickly pretence that she is onlydriving beautiful horses, or listening to music, or entertaining herfriends. I suppose a Society woman has as much right to advertiseher personality as a politician or a manufacturer of pills; all Iobject to is the sham of it, the everlasting twaddle about her loveof privacy. Take Mrs. Winnie Duval, for instance. You would think tohear her that her one ideal in life was to be a simple shepherdessand to raise flowers; but, as a matter of fact, she keeps ascrap-album, and if a week passes that the newspapers do not havesome paragraphs about her doings, she begins to get restless."

　　Lucy broke into a laugh. "I was at Mrs. Robbie Walling's lastnight," she said. "She was talking about the crowds at the opera,and she said she was going to withdraw to some place where shewouldn't have to see such mobs of ugly people."

　　"Yes," said he. "But you can't tell me anything about Mrs. RobbieWalling. I have been there. There's nothing that lady does from thetime she opens her eyes in the morning until the time she goes tobed the next morning that she would ever care to do if it were notfor the mobs of ugly people looking on."

　　--"You seem to be going everywhere," said Montague, after a pause.

　　"Oh, I guess I'm a success," said Lucy. "I am certainly having agorgeous time. I never saw so many beautiful houses or such dazzlingcostumes in my life."

　　"It's very fine," said Montague. "But take it slowly and make itlast. When one has got used to it, the life seems rather dull andgrey."

　　"I am invited to the Wymans' to-night," said Lucy,--"to play bridge.Fancy giving a bridge party on Sunday night!"

　　Montague shrugged his shoulders. "_Cosí fan tutti_," he said.

　　"What do you make of Betty Wyman?" asked the other.

　　"She is having a good time," said he. "I don't think she has muchconscience about it."

　　"Is she very much in love with Ollie?" she asked.

　　"I don't know," he said. "I can't make them out. It doesn't seem totrouble them very much."

　　This was after church while they were strolling down the Avenue,gazing at the procession of new spring costumes.--"Who is thatstately creature you just bowed to?" inquired Lucy.

　　"That?" said Montague. "That is Miss Hegan--Jim Hegan's daughter."

　　"Oh!" said Lucy. "I remember--Betty Wyman told me about her."

　　"Nothing very good, I imagine," said Montague, with a smile.

　　"It was interesting," said Lucy. "Fancy having a father with ahundred millions, and talking about going in for settlement work!"

　　"Well," he answered, "I told you one could get tired of thesplurge."

　　Lucy looked at him quizzically. "I should think that kind of a girlwould rather appeal to you," she said.

　　"I would like to know her very much," said he, "but she didn't seemto like me."

　　"Not like you!" cried the other. "Why, how perfectly outrageous!"

　　"It was not her fault," said Montague, smiling; "I am afraid I gotmyself a bad reputation."

　　"Oh, you mean about Mrs. Winnie!" exclaimed Lucy.

　　"Yes," said he, "that's it."

　　"I wish you would tell me about it," said she.

　　"There is nothing much to tell. Mrs. Winnie proceeded to take me upand make a social success of me, and I was fool enough to come whenshe invited me. Then the first thing I knew, all the gossips werewagging their tongues."

　　"That didn't do you any harm, did it?" asked Lucy.

　　"Not particularly," said he, shrugging his shoulders. "Only here isa woman whom I would have liked to know, and I don't know her.That's all."

　　Lucy gave him a sly glance. "You need a sister," she said, smiling."Somebody to fight for you!"

　　* * *

　　According to Jim Hegan's prediction, it was not long before Montaguereceived an offer. It came from a firm of lawyers of whom he hadnever heard. "We understand," ran the letter, "that you have a blockof five thousand shares of the stock of the Northern MississippiRailroad. We have a client on whose behalf we are authorised tooffer you fifty thousand dollars cash for these shares. Will youkindly consult with your client, and advise us at your earliestconvenience?"

　　He called up Lucy on the 'phone and told her that the offer hadcome.

　　"How much?" she asked eagerly.

　　"It is not satisfactory," he said. "But I would rather not discussthe matter over the 'phone. How can I arrange to see you?"

　　"Can't you send me up the letter by a messenger?" she asked.

　　"I could," said Montague, "but I would like to talk with you aboutit; and also I have that mortgage, and the other papers for you tosign. There are some things to be explained about these, also.Couldn't you come to my office this morning?"

　　"I would, Allan," she said, "but I have just made a most importantengagement, and I don't know what to do about it."

　　"Couldn't it be postponed?" he asked.

　　"No," she said. "It's an invitation to join a party on Mr.Waterman's new yacht."

　　"The _Brünnhilde_!" exclaimed Montague. "You don't say so!"

　　"Yes, and I hate to miss it," said she.

　　"How long shall you be gone?" he asked.

　　"I shall be back sometime this evening," she answered. "We are goingup the Sound. The yacht has just been put into commission, youknow."

　　"Where is she lying?"

　　"Off the Battery. I am to be on board in an hour, and I was justabout to start. Couldn't you possibly meet me there?"

　　"Yes," said Montague. "I will come over. I suppose they will wait afew minutes."

　　"I am half dying to know about the offer," said Lucy.

　　Montague had a couple of callers, which delayed him somewhat;finally he jumped into a cab and drove to the Battery.

　　Here, in the neighbourhood of Castle Garden, was a sheltered placepopularly known as the "Millionaires' Basin," being the favouriteanchorage of the private yachts of the "Wall Street flotilla." Atthis time of the year most of the great men had already moved out totheir country places, and those of them who lived on the Hudson orup the Sound would come to their offices in vessels of every size,from racing motor-boats to huge private steamships. They would havetheir breakfasts served on board, and would have their secretariesand their mail.

　　Many of these yachts were floating palaces of incrediblemagnificence; one, upon which Montague had been a guest, had aglass-domed library extending entirely around its upper deck. Thisone was the property of the Lester Todds, and the main purpose itserved was to carry them upon their various hunting trips; itsequipment included such luxuries as a French laundry, a model dairyand poultry-yard, an ice-machine and a shooting-gallery.

　　And here lay the _Brünnhilde_, the wonderful new toy of old Waterman.Montague knew all about her, for she had just been completed thatspring, and not a newspaper in the Metropolis but had had herpicture, and full particulars about her cost. Waterman had purchasedher from the King of Belgium, who had thought she was everything thesoul of a monarch could desire. Great had been his consternationwhen he learned that the new owner had given orders to strip herdown to the bare steel hull and refit and refurnish her. The saloonwas now done with Louis Quinze decorations, said the newspapers. Itswalls were panelled in satinwood and inlaid walnut, and under footwere velvet carpets twelve feet wide and woven without seam. Itsclosets were automatically lighted, and opened at the touch of abutton; even the drawers of its bureaus were upon ball-bearings. Theowner's private bedroom measured the entire width of the vessel,twenty-eight feet, and opened upon a Roman bath of white marble.

　　Such was the _Brünnhilde_, Montague looked about him for one of theyacht's launches, but he could not find any, so he hailed a boatmanand had himself rowed out. A man in uniform met him at the steps."Is Mrs. Taylor on board?" he asked.

　　"She is," the other answered. "Is this Mr. Montague? She left wordfor you."

　　Montague had begun to ascend; but a half a second later he stoppedshort in consternation.

　　Through one of the portholes of the vessel he heard distinctly amuffled cry,--

　　"Help! help!"

　　And he recognised the voice. It was Lucy's!