CHAPTER XXVI
ON THE PRECIPICE
The air of gloom that enveloped Wharton Kendrick's home was almost physical in its intensity. It was with apprehension that I awaited the opening of the door, and it was with anxious eagerness that I looked to Mercy Fillmore as she stood behind the servant who answered my ring.
"Oh, Mr. Hampden," she exclaimed, as she advanced and gave me her hand, "I have been wishing you would come."
I was gratified at the tone of relief and confidence with which she spoke, but my response was to ask of the condition of Wharton Kendrick.
"He is still out of his head," she replied, dropping into a seat. "Sometimes he talks a little–a few broken words–but most of the time he lies there silent, with vacant eyes. If it were not for his heavy breathing we should hardly know that he was alive." Her sympathetic face was filled with concern as she spoke.
"What does the doctor say?"
"He tries to look cheerful and speak confidently, but it is such an effort, I am afraid. Yet for Laura's sake I hope, and try to be convinced by the doctor's words." Then she added quickly: "I said I wanted to see you. Mr. Parks was here to-day. We had a long talk, and truly, Mr. Hampden, I want you to believe that he is a man of noble impulses. He is so unselfish, so eager for the good of others."
"I don't complain about his instincts. His heart is in the right place, as the saying goes, but his head is upside down."
"Oh, Mr. Hampden, you do not understand him!" said Mercy in a pained voice.
"Perhaps not; but surely he has not convinced you that he is wise to engage in such desperate enterprises as the overthrow of the government?"
Mercy was silent a little, and then she said:
"I should be glad if he could see some other way to work for the good of the people, but I am not wise myself, so how can I judge him? He tells me that it is not right to reason from womanly fears. Do you think he is in danger, Mr. Hampden? He is planning some important enterprise for to-night. Is there anything we can do to save him?"
My private opinion was that Parks would end by getting shot or thrown into jail. But I could not pain Mercy with any such brutal statements, so I soothed her fears as best I could. "We can't influence him to keep out of the movement," I said, "but ten to one it won't amount to anything but a lot of oratory, and hard words break no bones. You have no cause to worry about him."
"Well, I'm glad to hear you say so," said Mercy, looking relieved. "And now I want to tell you about Danny Regan. You know that Moon Ying recognized him as that old Chinaman's express-man?"
"Yes. She told me."
"Well, I talked to him until he confessed the whole plot to me. It began last week, after a good deal of bargaining, when he agreed to steal the girl. He came late one night with two others, and thought there would be nobody watching the house. But your men surprised them coming over the fence, and caught Danny's friend. He is the sergeant-at-arms of an anti-coolie club, he said. Danny and the other one got away. Then Danny came around in the daytime, and pretended to be a tramp, and got something to eat and talked everything out of the cook. She told him all about Moon Ying, and where she slept, and Danny raised a company to attack the house. He was going to set it on fire, and capture the girl as we all ran out, and when the hoodlums came in front, he thought it would be easy. I asked him how he could do such a thing, and his excuse was that he was drunk. He wants to know if you are going to have him arrested, and tries to lay the blame on the Chinaman he calls Little John. Do you intend to put him in jail?"
"I can't think of a better place for him. How soon can he be moved?"
"I suppose he ought to be punished. But he has suffered much for his crime, and now appears to be truly repentant. And at best he can not well be moved until next week. Don't you think we might forgive him?"
"No, I don't. You and Miss Laura might have been killed. I am angrier every time I think of it. Where is she now?"
"She is with Mr. Kendrick. She has hardly left his side to-day. She gave ten minutes to Moon Ying–it's a blessing that our little protégée is getting able to help herself–and she gave about as much more to looking after the house. The rest of the day she has spent with her uncle."
"I should say, then, that it was about time she took some rest."
"Well," said Mercy, rising, "I hope you can convince her of it. I'll tell her you are here." And she left me alone.
It was ten minutes before the door opened and Miss Kendrick entered. I greeted her with some surprise, for she was dressed as though she had just come in from the street.
"Oh, you needn't look so astonished," she said, as she gave me her hand with a tired smile. "I haven't been out of the house to-day, so I thought I'd enlist your services as cavalier. I'm dying for a breath of fresh air."
"I'm glad to find you with some spirit left. I was afraid you would be dead."
"I am," she returned, leading the way out of the door. "But I shall be alive after a little walk. I don't like being a ghost, but it's much more tolerable than one would suppose before trying it."
She was in no mood to make conversation, and walked by my side for a while without speaking. But there was such an air of confidence in her manner, such unspoken expression of comradeship in her attitude, that I was content to follow her example and find satisfaction in the silent communion and feel delight at the pressure of her hand upon my arm. We had walked a few blocks thus before she said, with an abruptness that startled me:
"Tell me about to-day."
I had been thinking of far more agreeable things than business, but I recovered myself from the momentary confusion into which I was thrown, and replied:
"It was a very lively day indeed." And, once started, I described, with such entertaining details as I could recall, some of the incidents of our struggle to keep the car of commerce on the track.
"I didn't mean all that," she said at last. "It's very amusing, but I'm not in the mood to be amused. Neither are you. What I want to know about is uncle's business."
"Well, as for that," I replied, "we got through another day safely. We had one or two exceedingly tight pinches, but we wriggled out all right. I guess the worst of it is over, and we shall pull through in good shape."
She dropped my arm with an impatient gesture, and I felt a sudden breaking of the current of silent communication that had drawn us together.
"Won't you tell me just what happened at the office to-day, and just how we stand? Didn't I tell you that I find nothing so terrible as uncertainty? It is the unknown that scares me. Let me see what is before me, and I'll have the courage to face it. Tell me the truth as you would tell it to uncle if you were talking to him instead of to me." Her tone was so pleading that my heart melted within me, and I was shaken with the desire to take her in my arms and tell her that it would be the business of my life to shield her from harm. It was a minute before I had a firm grasp on myself. Then I laid the whole account of Wharton Kendrick's business before her, as fully as I knew it.
She heard me soberly, with only a question here and there to clear up the points she did not understand. Then she asked:
"The troubles aren't over yet, are they?"
"No."
"And what shall you do to-morrow?"
"I wish I knew."
She reflected a little, and then said:
"You can't perform miracles every day. You could not get through another day like to-day, could you?"
"Not without help from somewhere. But I hope that the worst is over."
"Oh, you needn't think I'll blame you if everything goes to pieces. You've done ten times as much as anybody had a right to expect. But there is a limit to the things that can be done, and I know it very well."
I tried to speak, but she continued quickly:
"Oh, I haven't given up hope. Not a bit of it. But I have to look ahead. That's a part of me. But I won't talk about it if you don't like."
At the thought of her anxieties my feelings over-mastered me and I said:
"I do like. But I want you to look ahead to something else–to another future than taking care of your uncle's house." My heart thumped in my breast, and I felt a throb in my throat playing strange tricks with my voice. In the instant I thought of all that I had put at stake, and wished I had not begun. But with an effort of will I continued: "I want you to think of another future. I love you more than all the world, and I want you to be my wife."
She walked silently by my side, neither increasing her distance nor drawing nearer to me. But she walked on and spoke no word, and I fell into a panic over the boldness that had inspired me to my avowal. We had proceeded thus for two or three blocks before I plucked up the courage to ask:
"And what is the answer?"
She kept her head down, but replied with a trace of drollery in her tone:
"It wasn't a question. And there isn't any answer."
"I'll make it a question then."
She looked quickly up into my face.
"It wouldn't do any good if you did. Anybody can ask questions, but it takes a very wise person to answer them."
"But," I pleaded, looking into her eyes till she cast them down once more, "it means everything to me, and–"
"I know all that you would say," she interrupted. "But how can I think of such a thing when I have so much that must be done–so many uncertainties to face?"
She laid her hand appealingly on my arm, and looked up into my face again. Then she continued:
"My uncle is perhaps dying. I don't have to tell you how all his affairs are in confusion. And you are the friend I have most to look to for help and counsel. You won't take my chiefest reliance away from me, will you?"
Her appealing look and tone were too much for me. It was a very quiet place on a very quiet street, and the dusk had fallen almost to darkness; so I yielded to the impulse and stopped and kissed her. She did not resist, but drew a quick breath that was almost a gasp, and lowered her eyes. Then she said quietly:
"There–all that is to be put away with the things that were. And you're to think of all you have said as something that came in a dream. And now we'll wake up and look to the serious business of life. It isn't such a very pleasant season of life is it?"
Her voice broke a little as she ended and my heart smote me.
"I hope," I said, "that I don't have to tell you that you can depend on me for every service that I have power to give."
She took my arm again with an air of confidence.
"You are always to be my good friend," she said. "And now we'll go back. It's getting dark, and maybe the fresh air wasn't what I wanted after all. I'm a bit upset."
I felt somewhat upset myself. I was certainly left hanging in a most uncertain and unsatisfactory position; but I saw no way to better it, and held my tongue, and wondered with a jealous pang if Baldwin had, after all, won the prize I coveted.
We walked on in silence for a time, but at last she suddenly said:
"Oh, there was something I was near forgetting to tell you. I've been sitting by uncle, almost all day, and for the most of the time he has lain there more like a log than a man. But sometimes he has talked–not to know what he was saying, you understand–but some ideas are bothering his poor head. I am supposing that they have to do with his business. A dozen times in the day he spoke your name, and seemed to be trying to tell you something. He told it over and over, but the only words I could make out were 'notes,' 'million,' and 'five hundred and sixteen.' The figures seem to mean something to him, for he has repeated them oftener than anything else."
She paused for comment, and I submitted my guesses:
"The notes are probably those that Peter Bolton presented to-day. The million is roughly the amount we are short in the business, counting the deficit in the syndicate fund. I can't imagine what the 'five hundred and sixteen' can mean. It is not the number of his office, for that is in the four hundred block. There doesn't seem to be anything in the business that it could signify."
Laura Kendrick halted me, and looked up in my face.
"I am not given to intuitions," she said, her tone thrilling with earnestness, "but I have one now. As sure as you stand there, uncle made provision for paying the notes and raising the rest of the money you have had to find, and the number 'five hundred and sixteen' has something to do with it. Find the five hundred and sixteen and you'll find the million dollars." And with a nod of conviction she walked forward once more.
"It may be one of the banks," I ventured to suggest, "but I can't remember that any of them are at that number."
"Mightn't it be the place of business of some friend, where he has left this money?"
I shook my head at this improbable guess, and turned the problem over in my mind without result. Then I ventured to propose that I should see Wharton Kendrick.
"My presence might stir his thoughts to some more definite speech," I argued.
"Well, I'll let you in for just a minute. But Doctor Roberts said that nothing must be done to excite him, and I don't know as it is right to take the risk."
In a few minutes we were in the sick-room where Wharton Kendrick lay. His large frame was motionless, except for his breathing. His face was flushed, and the lines of strength and power that it bore in health had faded into expressionless weakness.
"He is like this for the greater part of the time," said Laura; "yet I have the feeling that under it all he is conscious of what is going on about him, and I do everything just as if I were sure that he could hear and see."
It was beyond all bounds of probability, yet at the conceit a sudden thought came into my mind.
"If you should be right, he must be horribly worried about his affairs. I'll just say a word to relieve his mind." Then speaking slowly and distinctly I gave a brief account of the course of the markets, dwelt on the success of the syndicate in sustaining the business fabric, and hinted at the need for more money on the morrow.
There was no physical response. If there was an intelligent brain in that inert body, it found no servant at its call among the flaccid muscles, and not even the moving of an eyelid gave sign that I was understood. Yet as I spoke, there came somewhere in my consciousness the conviction that I was heard, and that my words had brought relief to an overstrained mind.
Laura Kendrick looked quickly from the face of her uncle to mine, and a sudden light sprang into her eyes.
"You felt it, too," she said.
"Yes."
"You have done good; but you mustn't stay here any longer. Don't leave the house, though, unless you have to. I shall be afraid when you are gone."
As she opened the door to banish me from the sick-room, a servant had just raised his hand to tap at the panel.
"What is it?" she asked.
"A man to see Mr. Hampden. I took him into the library."
CHAPTER XXVII
A CALL TO ARMS
I followed the servant and was surprised to find Clark uneasily seated on the edge of a cushioned chair, nervously twisting his hat, and looking as though he was afraid he was going to break something.
"I'm sorry to bother you here," he said awkwardly, "but things have come to a head."
"What is it now? Do you think that to-night's meeting is going to make more trouble than the other one did?"
"Well, no, sir. The meeting don't amount to much. To tell you the truth, sir, the meeting is only a blind. Parks got out the notices, and he's going to make a speech. But he's the only one of the Council's people who will be there. The others are down at headquarters getting ready for the real work of the night."
"The real work? What do you mean by that?"
"Well, the truth of the business is," said Clark, "that the rifle clubs are to be called out to-night. Orders have gone out to all the Council's clubs to assemble at eleven. At twelve they will be given their guns, and then they will be sent out to seize the city. One company is to take possession of the City Hall; another will take the Committee of Safety's headquarters; and others the National Guard Armories, the Mint, the Subtreasury, and so on."
"Are they crazy? Why, the Committee of Safety has fifteen thousand men enrolled by this time."
"Crazy? Not a bit of it," protested Clark warmly. "The Committee of Safety won't have any leaders or any guns left by to-morrow. Coleman, and Mayor Bryant, and General McComb, and every man of the Committee of Twenty-Four will be under lock and key before morning if something isn't done about it. They all go home to sleep, and there isn't a man of 'em that's thought of having a guard about his house. They'll all be taken like rats in a trap. Then where's the Committee of Safety and the militia? They'll be without leaders and without guns, and what'll they do? They'll scatter like sheep. The whole scheme has been worked out like the plans for a building, and if the Council isn't stopped before twelve you'll wake up to-morrow morning under a new government."
"Nonsense!" I said. "They can't do that."
"All right," said Clark, with a hurt and offended look, "they can't, then. But it was my duty, sir, to warn you, and I've done it, so I'll be going."
"I beg your pardon, Clark," I said hastily. "I didn't mean to doubt your word or hurt your feelings. You've done quite right in coming here, and it's my business to see that they don't carry out their crazy schemes. Wait a minute, and I'll walk along down with you."
I had a hurried word with Laura Kendrick, and explained to her the importance of the information Clark had brought, and the necessity of laying it promptly before the Committee of Safety.
She looked up at me with some apprehension in her eyes.
"Well, if you must, you must," she said. "But don't you get into any mobs or into any fighting. Just remember that it's the man who orders somebody else to do his fighting that gets the glory out of it. If there's any trouble, see that you're one of the orderers instead of one of the ordered."
I laughed at her anxious counsel, and promising to use all the caution with which nature had endowed me, I joined Clark and left the house.
Directing Clark to attend the sand-lot meeting and to get word to Andrews at once if the mob should head for the Kendrick house, I caught a car and rode to the headquarters of the Committee of Safety.
Horticultural Hall resembled a beehive on swarming day. Wealth and poverty were represented side by side. Merchants, workmen, lawyers, doctors, laborers rubbed elbows, and their stern and serious faces testified to the depth of feeling that had brought them out to the defense of the city. It was an outburst of the same spirit that had given birth to the nation, and had again called forth vast armies to preserve it when its existence was threatened by civil war.
At the end of the hall a number of desks had been arranged where enrolment was still in progress. Behind the desks was a platform, and as I approached it I saw William T. Coleman walk briskly to the speaker's stand.
"Three cheers for Coleman!" came the cry from a strong-lunged Vigilante, and three cheers were given with a will.
The president of the Committee raised his hand to command silence.
"Fellow-citizens:" he cried in a full, resonant voice. "You have come here to fight–not to talk or cheer. We find a mob spirit abroad, very dangerous to the peace and order of the city. It is your business to put that spirit down. For this purpose you are clothed with all the powers of police officers. The mayor has issued his proclamation, commanding disorderly persons to disperse, and it is our part to see that this proclamation is obeyed. You have behind you the armed force of the State and Nation. But it should be a part of your pride as San Franciscans that this force should not be needed for your protection. The people have shown on former occasions that they were able to protect themselves. Show now that your courage and self-reliance have not degenerated in twenty years."
There was a warm response to this exhortation, and, at a sign from Coleman, the adjutants began calling forward the companies, and despatching them to their work.
"Captain Korbel!" called the commanding voice of the adjutant at the desk nearest us.
"Here!" came the reply in a strong German accent, and a man with energetic face stepped out from a company of twenty men.
"You will patrol Mission Street, from Sixth to Twelfth. Keep the street clear of all persons having no business there. If they resist, put them under arrest, and turn them over to the police at the Southern Station. Get your arms from that pile."
"So ist righdt," said the captain, and giving a salute he marched his company to the west side of the hall where a great number of pick-handles that had been sawn in two, base-ball bats, and wagon spokes, had been arranged in convenient stacks. Each man of the company picked up a club, balanced it in his hand, and brought it down on the head of an imaginary hoodlum with the solemnity of a prepared ritual. Then at the word of command the company marched out while others were receiving their orders from the desks of the adjutants.
I had observed this lively scene with but half an eye, shouldering my way forward to meet William T. Coleman as he descended from the platform. He had talked for a little with some member of the Committee, but as he came down the steps on his way to the side room that served as a private office, I hailed him. He looked up quickly, and his face changed as he caught sight of me.
"Is Kendrick dead?" he asked anxiously.
"No. He is still unconscious, but living."
"What is the trouble, then?" he asked, looking keenly into my eyes. "You have bad news."
Then before I could reply, he said, "Come in here," and led me into the private office. "Now let's hear about it," he said.
"The Council of Nine is ready to use its rifles," I replied. And I gave with rapid phrases the tale of the imminent revolution as it had come from Clark.
William T. Coleman listened with a rapt attention that showed he took the warning more seriously than I had taken it.
"Then we have till midnight," he said, after he had digested the information.
"My informant said that the rifle clubs are ordered to assemble at eleven o'clock."
He looked out of the window into the darkness; then he turned to me again.
"It will never do to let those men come together with arms in their hands. That would mean bloodshed–terrible bloodshed. I am using every effort to prevent an appeal to arms. I have refused to call for the militia. The National Guard is under arms, but I have a promise from Bryant that he will not ask for it until I give the word. I have refused an offer of Federal troops from the Presidio. I have a note from the admiral that the marines and sailors at Mare Island have been put under arms, and that the Pensacola is ready to take a position that will command the city. But I have refused to permit them to be summoned. I shall never summon them except as a last resort. It is an awful thing to have men shot down, and the memory of such an affair would be a lasting stain on the city."
"It would be sad to have innocent men killed," I said; "but I shouldn't weep over the loss of some of those demons I saw raiding wash-houses and trying to kill Wharton Kendrick. The world would be better off without them."
"Do not judge them too hastily," said Coleman quickly. "Civilization is at best only skin-deep. Scratch the civilized man, and you find the wild beast. It takes a little deeper scratch to find it in some men than in others; but it is there. You and I think ourselves well-balanced, Hampden, yet I have seen men of our nature turn into ferocious beasts. I pray God I may never see the like again. These men you saw in the shape of demons the other night may be good citizens in quiet times. Thank God, young man, for government. It is the blessing of organized society–of organized government–that keeps the wild beast behind bars." He spoke with feeling, yet with the philosophic calm of the lecturer on law, and he impressed me profoundly with his momentary unveiling of a broad and tolerant mind. Then he became the man of affairs again.
"Do you know where to find the headquarters of the Council?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Do you know these men by sight?"
"I believe I can recognize eight of the nine."
"Well, then, I shall have to ask you to go down to the Council's headquarters at once, and arrest the leaders of the movement. You will have the honor of ending the uprising before it has begun."