Chapter 7

by Upton Sinclair

　　It was a week before Montague saw Lucy again. She came in to lunchwith Alice one day, when he happened to be home early.

　　"I went to dinner at Mrs. Frank Landis's last night," she said. "Andwho do you think was there--your friend, Mrs. Winnie Duval."

　　"Indeed," said Montague.

　　"I had quite a long talk with her," said she. "I liked her verymuch."

　　"She is easy to like," he replied. "What did you talk about?"

　　"Oh, everything in the world but one thing," said Lucy,mischievously.

　　"What do you mean?" asked Montague.

　　"You, you goose," she answered. "Mrs. Winnie knew that I was yourfriend, and I had a feeling that every word she was saying was amessage to you."

　　"Well, and what did she have to say to me?" he asked, smiling.

　　"She wants you to understand that she is cheerful, and not piningaway because of you," was the answer. "She told me about all thethings that she was interested in."

　　"Did she tell you about the Babubanana?"

　　"The what?" exclaimed Lucy.

　　"Why, when I saw her last," said Montague, "she was turning into aHindoo, and her talk was all about Swamis, and Gnanis, and so on."

　　"No, she didn't mention them," said Lucy.

　　"Well, probably she has given it up, then," said he. "What is itnow?"

　　"She has gone in for anti-vivisection."

　　"Anti-vivisection!"

　　"Yes," said the other; "didn't you see in the papers that she hadbeen elected an honorary vice-president of some society or other,and had contributed several thousand dollars?"

　　"One cannot keep track of Mrs. Winnie in the newspapers," saidMontague.

　　"Well," she continued, "she has heard some dreadful stories abouthow surgeons maltreat poor cats and dogs, and she would insist ontelling me all about it. It was the most shocking dinner-tableconversation imaginable."

　　"She certainly is a magnificent-looking creature," said Lucy, aftera pause. "I don't wonder the men fall in love with her. She had herhair done up with some kind of a band across the front, and Ideclare she might have been an Egyptian princess."

　　"She has many roles," said Montague.

　　"Is it really true," asked the other, "that she paid fifty thousanddollars for a bath-tub?"

　　"She says she did," he answered. "The newspapers say it, too, so Isuppose it is true. I know Duval told me with his own lips that shecost him a million dollars a year; but then that may have beenbecause he was angry."

　　"Is he so rich as all that?" asked Lucy.

　　"I don't know how rich he is personally," said Montague. "I know heis one of the most powerful men in New York. They call him the'System's' banker."

　　"I have heard Mr. Ryder speak of him," said she.

　　"Not very favourably, I imagine," said he, with a smile.

　　"No," said she, "they had some kind of a quarrel. What was thematter?"

　　"I don't know anything about it," was the answer. "But Ryder is afree lance, and a new man, and Duval works with the big men whodon't like to have trespassers about."

　　Lucy was silent for a minute; her brows were knit in thought. "Is itreally true that Mr. Ryder's position is so unstable? I thought theGotham Trust Company was one of the largest institutions in thecountry. What are those huge figures that you see in theiradvertisements,--seventy millions--eighty millions--what is it?"

　　"Something like that," said Montague.

　　"And is not that true?" she asked.

　　"Yes, I guess that's true," he said. "I don't know anything aboutRyder's affairs, you know--I simply hear the gossip. Everyone sayshe is playing a bold game. You take my advice, and keep your moneysomewhere else. You have to be doubly careful because you haveenemies."

　　"Enemies?" asked Lucy, in perplexity.

　　"Have you forgotten what Waterman said to you?" Montague asked.

　　"You don't mean to tell me," cried she, "that you think thatWaterman would interfere with Mr. Ryder on my account."

　　"It sounds incredible, I know," said Montague, "but such things havehappened before this. If anyone knew the inside stories of thebattles that have shaken Wall Street, he would find that many ofthem had some such beginning."

　　Montague said this casually, and with nothing in particular in mind.He was not watching his friend closely, and he did not see theeffect which his words had produced upon her. He led theconversation into other channels; and he had entirely forgotten thematter the next day, when he received a telephone call from Lucy.

　　It had been a week since he had written to Smith and Hanson, thelawyers, in regard to the sale of her stock. "Allan," she asked, "noletter from those people yet?"

　　"Nothing at all," he answered.

　　"I was talking about it with a friend this morning, and he made asuggestion that I thought was important. Don't you think it might bewell to find out whom they are representing?"

　　"What good would that do?" asked Montague.

　　"It might help us to get an idea of the prospects," said she. "Ifancy they know who wants to sell the stock, and we ought to knowwho is thinking of buying it. Suppose you write them that you don'tcare to negotiate with agents."

　　"But I am in no position to do that," said Montague. "I have alreadyset the people a figure, and they have not replied. We should onlyweaken our position by writing again. It would be much better to tryto interest someone else."

　　"But I would like to know very much who made that offer," Lucyinsisted. "I have heard rumours about the stock, and I really wouldlike to know."

　　She reiterated this statement several times, and seemed to be verykeen about it; Montague wondered a little who had been talking toher, and what she had heard. But warned by what the Major had toldhim, he did not ask these questions over the 'phone. He answered,finally, "I think you are making a mistake, but I will do what youwish."

　　So he sat down and wrote a note to Messrs. Smith and Hanson, andsaid that he would like to have a consultation with a member oftheir firm. He sent this note by messenger, and an hour or so latera wiry little person, with a much-wrinkled face and a shrewd look inhis eyes, came into his office and introduced himself as Mr. Hanson.

　　"I have been talking with my client about the matter of the NorthernMississippi stock," said Montague. "You know, perhaps, that thisroad was organised under somewhat unusual circumstances; most of thestockholders were personal friends of our family. For this reason myclient would prefer not to deal with an agent, if it can possibly bearranged. I wish to find out whether your client would consent todeal directly with the owner of the stock."

　　Montague finished what he had to say, although while he was speakinghe noticed that Mr. Hanson was staring at him with very evidentastonishment. Before he finished, this had changed to a slightsneer.

　　"What kind of a trick is this you are trying to play on me?" the mandemanded.

　　Montague was too much taken aback to be angry. He simply stared. "Idon't understand you," he said.

　　"You don't, eh?" said the other, laughing in his face. "Well, itseems I know more than you think I do."

　　"What do you mean?" asked Montague.

　　"Your client no longer has the stock that you are talking about,"said the other.

　　Montague caught his breath. "No longer has the stock!" he gasped.

　　"Of course not," said Hanson. "She sold it three days ago." Then,unable to deny himself the satisfaction, he added, "She sold it toStanley Ryder. And if you want to know any more about it, she soldit for a hundred and sixty thousand dollars, and he gave her a sixmonths' note for a hundred and forty thousand."

　　Montague was utterly dumfounded. He could do nothing but stare.

　　It was evident to the other man that his emotion was genuine, and hesmiled sarcastically. "Evidently, Mr. Montague," he said, "you havebeen permitting your client to take advantage of you."

　　Montague caught himself together, and bowed politely. "I owe you anapology, Mr. Hanson," he said, in a low voice. "I can only assureyou that I was entirely helpless in the matter."

　　Then he rose and bade the man good morning.

　　When the door of his office was closed, he caught at the chair byhis desk to steady himself, and stood staring in front of him. "ToStanley Ryder!" he gasped.

　　He turned to the 'phone, and called up his friend.

　　"Lucy," he said, "is it true that you have sold that stock?"

　　He heard her give a gasp. "Answer me!" he cried.

　　"Allan," she began, "you are going to be angry with me--"

　　"Please answer me!" he cried again. "Have you sold that stock?"

　　"Yes, Allan," she said, "I didn't mean--"

　　"I don't care to discuss the matter on the telephone," he said. "Iwill stop in to see you this afternoon on my way home. Please be in,because it is important." And then he hung up the receiver.

　　He called at the time he had set, and Lucy was waiting for him. Shelooked pale, and very much distressed. She sat in a chair, andneither arose to greet him nor spoke to him, but simply gazed intohis face.

　　It was a very sombre face. "This thing has given me a great deal ofpain," said Montague; "and I don't want to prolong it any more thannecessary. I have thought the matter over, and my mind is made up,so there need be no discussion. It will not be possible for me tohave anything further to do with your affairs."

　　Lucy gave a gasp: "Oh, Allan!"

　　He had a valise containing all her papers. "I have broughteverything up to date," he said. "There are all the accounts, andthe correspondence. Anyone will be able to find exactly how thingsstand."

　　"Allan," she said, "this is really cruel."

　　"I am very sorry," he answered, "but there is nothing else that Ican do."

　　"But did I not have a right to sell that stock to Stanley Ryder?"she cried.

　　"You had a perfect right to sell it to anyone you pleased," he said."But you had no right to ask me to take charge of your affairs, andthen to keep me in the dark about what you had done."

　　"But, Allan," she protested, "I only sold it three days ago."

　　"I know that perfectly well," he said; "but the moment you made upyour mind to sell it, it was your business to tell me. That,however, is not the point. You tried to use me as a cat's-paw topull chestnuts out of the fire for Stanley Ryder."

　　He saw her wince under the words. "Is it not true?" he demanded."Was it not he who told you to have me try to get that information?"

　　"Yes, Allan, of course it was he," said Lucy. "But don't you see myplight? I am not a business woman, and I did not realise--"

　　"You realised that you were not dealing frankly with me," he said."That is all that I care about, and that is why I am not willing tocontinue to represent you. Stanley Ryder has bought your stock, andStanley Ryder will have to be your adviser in the future."

　　He had not meant to discuss the matter with her any further, but hesaw how profoundly he had hurt her, and the old bond between themheld him still.

　　"Can't you understand what you did to me, Lucy?" he exclaimed."Imagine my position, talking to Mr. Hanson, I knowing nothing andhe knowing everything. He knew what you had been paid, and he evenknew that you had taken a note."

　　Lucy stared at Montague with wide-open eyes. "Allan!" she gasped.

　　"You see what it means," he said. "I told you that you could notkeep your doings secret. Now it will only be a matter of a few daysbefore everybody who knows will be whispering that you havepermitted Stanley Ryder to do this for you."

　　There was a long silence. Lucy sat staring before her. Then suddenlyshe faced Montague.

　　"Allan!" she cried. "Surely--you understand!"

　　She burst out violently, "I had a right to sell that stock! Ryderneeded it. He is going to organise a syndicate, and develop theproperty. It was a simple matter of business."

　　"I have no doubt of it, Lucy," said Montague, in a low voice, "buthow will you persuade the world of that? I told you what wouldhappen if you permitted yourself to be intimate with a man likeStanley Ryder. You will find out too late what it means. Certainlythat incident with Waterman ought to have opened your eyes to whatpeople are saying."

　　Lucy gave a start, and gazed at him with horror in her eyes."Allan!" she panted.

　　"What is it?" he asked.

　　"Do you mean to tell me that happened to me because Stanley Ryder ismy friend?"

　　"Of course I do," said he. "Waterman had heard the gossip, and hethought that if Ryder was a rich man, he was a ten-times-richerman."

　　Montague could see the colour mount swiftly over Lucy's throat andface. She stood twisting her hands together nervously. "Oh, Allan!"she said. "That is monstrous!"

　　"It is not of my making. It is the way the world is. I found it outmyself, and I tried to point it out to you."

　　"But it is horrible!" she cried. "I will not believe it. I will notyield to such things. I will not be coward enough to give up afriend for such a motive!"

　　"I know the feeling," said Montague. "I'd stand by you, if it wereanother man than Stanley Ryder. But I know him better than you, Ibelieve."

　　"You don't, Allan, you can't!" she protested. "I tell you he is agood man! He is a man nobody understands--"

　　Montague shrugged his shoulders. "It is possible," he said. "I haveheard that before. Many men are better than the things they do inthis world; at any rate, they like to persuade themselves that theyare. But you have no right to wreck your life out of pity for Ryder.He has made his own reputation, and if he had any real care for you,he would not ask you to sacrifice yourself to it."

　　"He did not ask me to," said Lucy. "What I have done, I have done ofmy own free will. I believe in him, and I will not believe thehorrible things that you tell me."

　　"Very well," said Montague, "then you will have to go your own way."

　　He spoke calmly, though really his heart was wrung with grief. Heknew exactly the sort of conversation by which Stanley Ryder hadbrought Lucy to this state of mind. He could have shattered thebeautiful image of himself which Ryder had conjured up; but he couldnot bear to do it. Perhaps it was an instinct which guided him--heknew that Lucy was in love with the man, and that no facts thatanyone could bring would make any difference to her. All he couldsay was, "You will have to find out for yourself."

　　And then, with one more look at her pitiful face of misery, heturned and went away, without even touching her hand.