clay made no marked change in his mode of living, and shortly after his visit to the doctor he engaged in a struggle with a group of speculators who opposed one of his business schemes. they were clever men, with money enough to make them troublesome enemies, and clay realized that he must spare no effort if he meant to win. he beat them and determined to exact a heavy indemnity, but the battle was stubbornly fought and during the month it lasted he had little rest by night or day. long after the city offices were closed he entertained his supporters in his rooms at the hotel, and, rising early, altered and improved his plans before the business day began.
to his delight, he felt no bad effects; he was somewhat limp and lazy, but that, no doubt, was a natural reaction from the strain. he could now, however, afford to take a few days’ rest, and he telegraphed aynsley that he would spend the week-end at osborne’s house, which was always open to both. enjoying the first-fruits of his victory, in the shape of some tempting offers, shortly before he left his office, he traveled down the sound in high content, and, to complete his satisfaction, he learned on arriving that aynsley had secured some large and profitable orders for lumber.
dinner was served early on the saturday evening, and clay, finding that he had an excellent appetite, ate and drank more than usual. he was quite well, he told himself, but had had an anxious time and needed bracing. miss dexter watched him with disapproval when, after dinner was finished, he stood in the hall with a large glass in his hand. the man had a high color, but his eyes had a strained look and his lips a curious bluish tinge. he appeared to be quite sober, which caused her some surprise, but he was talking rather freely and his laugh was harsh. she thought he looked coarse and overbearing in his present mood.
the large hall was tastefully paneled in cedar, a fire of pine logs burned on the open hearth, and small lamps hung among the wooden pillars. a drawing-room and a billiard-room, both warmed and lighted, opened out of it, but osborne left his guests to do what they liked best, and nobody seemed inclined to move. ruth and aynsley were talking near the hearth, miss dexter had some embroidery in her hands, and osborne lounged in a deep chair beside the table. clay, with the now empty glass in his hand, leaned negligently upon the table, feeling well satisfied with himself. his manners were not polished, but he was aware of it, and never pretended to graces he did not possess. he smiled when he caught miss dexter’s censorious glance.
“i’m often in trouble, ma’am, and find i can’t fight on coffee and ice-water,” he explained humorously.
“perhaps that’s one of their advantages,” miss dexter replied. “but as we’re not quarrelsome people, you ought to enjoy a few days’ peace.”
“that’s so. i guess i warmed up over telling your brother-in-law about my latest battle.” he turned to osborne. “frame and nesbitt were in this morning, ready to take what i’d give them on their knees. fletcher came and tried to bluff, but he wilted when i cracked the whip. i have the gang corralled, and they’ll go broke before they get out.”
clay’s rather obvious failings included an indulgence in coarse vainglory, though he had generally the sense to check it when it might prove a handicap. now, however, he was in an expansive mood, inclined to make the most of his triumph.
“the joke is that they were plumb-sure they’d squeeze me dry,” he went on. “got hold of a tip about the development land purchase plan and never guessed i’d planted it for them. morgan cost me high, and his nerve is bad, but he’s a cute little rat, and works well in the dark.”
“i thought the opposition had bought him,” osborne said.
“so they did,” clay chuckled. “now they want his blood, and i believe denby’s mad enough about it to have him sandbagged. that plays into my hand, because the fellow will stick to me for protection. if he tries to strike me for extra pay, i’ve only to threaten i’ll throw him to the wolves. guess the way they’re howling has scared him pretty bad.”
“have you begun the clean-up yet?”
“washed out the first panful before i came away,” clay replied in miners’ phraseology. “ten thousand dollars for two small back lots. it’s all good pay-dirt, carrying heavy metal.”
“in a way, i’m sorry for fletcher. he’s had a bad time lately, and, as he has got into low water, i’m afraid this will finish him.”
“he joined the gang. now he has to take the consequences.”
clay saw that miss dexter was listening with disapproval. he was not averse to having an audience and he had spoken loudly.
“if you saw the people who’d conspired to rob you come to grief through their greediness, what would you do about it, miss dexter?” he asked.
“i should try not to gloat over their downfall,” she answered with some asperity.
“looks better,” clay agreed. “but when i have the fellows down, it seems prudent to see that they don’t get up again too soon.”
miss dexter studied him. admitting that modesty would have become him better, she did not believe he was boasting at random. there was power in the man, though she imagined he did not often use it well. she disliked his principles, and he frequently repelled her, but sometimes she felt attracted. he had, she thought, a better side than the one he generally showed.
“does it never pay to be merciful?” she asked.
“very seldom. in my line of business you have, as a rule, to break or be broken hard. it’s a hard fight. i keep the rules of the ring. sometimes they’re pretty liberally interpreted, but if you go too far, you get hustled out and disqualified. in this country the stakes are high, but i’ve been through the hardest training since i was a boy, and i’ve got to win.” he paused with a glance toward aynsley. “sounds pretty egotistical, doesn’t it? but i know my powers, and i can’t be stopped.”
his forceful air gave him a touch of dignity and redeemed the crude daring of his boast. osborne looked at him curiously, but miss dexter felt half daunted. she thought his attitude grossly defiant; the inordinate pride he showed would bring its punishment.
“it sounds very rash,” she said. “you don’t know what you may have to contend with.”
clay laughed harshly.
“i’ve some suspicion; but there comes a time, often after years of struggle, when a man knows he has only to hold on and win the game. curious, isn’t it? but he does know, and sets his teeth as he braces himself for the effort that’s going to give him the prize.”
he spoke with vehemence, the color darkening in his face. miss dexter wondered whether the last glass of whisky and potass had gone to his head; but the flush suddenly faded and his lips turned blue. osborne was the first to notice it. jumping up, he grabbed clay by the arms and shoved him toward the nearest chair. clay fell into it heavily, and began fumbling at his vest pocket, but he soon let his hand drop in a nerveless manner. the next moment aynsley was at his side. the hall was large, and the boy had been sitting some distance off, but he did not run and he made no noise. he had inherited his father’s swiftness of action, and ruth, following in alarm, noticed the lithe grace of his movements. the girl’s impressions were, however, somewhat blurred, and it was not until afterward that the scene fixed itself vividly in her mind.
“perhaps we’d better get the car out,” aynsley said quickly. “we may want it if this is going to last.”
osborne rang a bell and there was silence for a few moments while they waited, uncertain what to do. clay’s face was livid and his eyes were half shut. he seemed unconscious of their presence, and they imagined that he was struggling against the weakness that was mastering him. his lips were tight set, his brows knit, and his hand was firmly clenched. osborne gave an order to a servant, who immediately disappeared, and then clay’s tense pose relaxed. he sank back in the chair, loose and limp, as if all power had suddenly gone out of him.
the change was more startling to those watching than the first attack. they had long known his strength and resolution; but now he lay inert, with head falling forward, a bulky, flaccid figure, suddenly stripped of everything that had made him feared. he was grotesque in his helplessness, and ruth had a curious feeling that there was something unfitting, almost indecent, in their watching him. it appeared, however, that he was conscious, for when osborne held a glass to his lips he feebly moved his head in refusal, and his slack fingers began to fumble at the pocket again.
“there’s something he wants there!” ruth said sharply. “perhaps it’s something he ought to take!”
aynsley thrust his hand into the pocket and brought out a small bottle.
“six drops,” he read out and was about to lift his father’s head when miss dexter stopped him.
“no,” she said; “you’ll spill it. wait for a spoon.”
she brought one and with some trouble they administered the dose. for a while there was no visible result, and then clay sighed and with a slack movement changed his pose. a little later he opened his eyes and beckoned.
“the medicine!” aynsley requested in a hoarse voice.
“no,” said miss dexter firmly. “he has had six drops.”
aynsley yielded, for it was plain that his father was recovering. a moment later clay raised himself in his chair and looked at miss dexter with a feeble, apologetic smile.
“sorry i made this disturbance.”
“are you feeling better?” aynsley asked.
“quite all right in a minute.” clay turned to osborne. “it would be bad manners to blame your cook; guess the fault was mine. got breakfast early, and had no time for lunch.”
though he had made a hearty dinner, the explanation he suggested did not satisfy the others, and ruth thought it significant that he had made it so promptly. they did not, however, trouble him with questions, and after a while he rose and walked to another chair.
“the car won’t be needed,” aynsley said to osborne.
“the car?” clay interposed. “what did you want it for?”
“we had thought of sending for a doctor,” aynsley answered deprecatingly.
clay frowned.
“shucks! you’re easily scared; i wouldn’t have seen him. where’s that bottle?” he slipped it hastily into his pocket and turned to ruth. “very sorry all this happened; feel ashamed of myself. now i wonder whether you’ll give us some music.”
they went into the drawing-room, and clay chose an easy chair at some distance from the others. he cared nothing for music, but he felt shaky, and he was glad of an excuse for sitting quiet. moreover, he wanted time to think. it looked as if the doctor, whom he had begun to doubt, had after all been right. he had had a warning which he could not neglect; and as he rather vacantly watched the girl at the piano it was borne in upon him that she had probably saved his life. the others had thought him insensible, but she had guessed that he was feeling for the remedy which had pulled him round.
it was a pity she had refused aynsley, but he bore her no ill-will, although he was generally merciless to those who thwarted him. he would have liked to thank her, but that was inadvisable, for he must not admit that he had had a dangerous attack. then it struck him that if he were seriously threatened, it might be well to take precautions. there was a good offer he had received for some property he wished to sell, but he had not answered because all the terms were not settled, and he did not wish to seem eager. it might be better to close the matter now. when he had thanked ruth for the song, he quietly made his way to osborne’s writing-room.
it was necessary to write several letters, and he found his fingers nerveless and composition difficult. indeed, he laid the pen down and then resolutely took it up again. he was not going to be beaten by a bodily weakness, and nobody must notice that his writing was shaky. he tore up the first letter and wrote it again in a firm, legible hand, though the sweat the effort cost him gathered on his forehead. his schemes must be completed and all his affairs straightened out before he gave in. the man was ruthless and unscrupulous, but he had unflinching courage and an indomitable will.
in the billiard-room osborne was talking to aynsley.
“what do you think about your father?” he asked.
“i’m anxious. of course, he made light of the matter, and, so far as i know, he’s never been troubled in this way before, but i didn’t like his look.”
“it struck me as significant that he’d seen a doctor,” osborne remarked. “the bottle proves that. from the careful directions about the dose it must have been made up from a prescription. anyway, he’s been overdoing it lately, and perhaps you had better go along and see what he’s about. if he’s attending to any business, make him stop and bring him down.”
aynsley entered the writing-room and left it in a few minutes, rudely dismissed. coming down, he made an excuse for taking ruth into the hall.
“i know you’ll do me a favor,” he begged.
“of course. i suppose it concerns your father?”
aynsley nodded.
“he’s writing letters, and i’m afraid it will do him harm. he looks far from fit, but he’s in a most contrary mood, and ordered me out when i hinted that he’d better stop. knowing what he’s capable of, i thought i’d better go.”
he spoke lightly, but ruth saw the uneasiness he wished to conceal.
“do you think i could persuade him?”
“i’d like you to try. anyway, he won’t be rude to you; and i’ve a suspicion that you have some influence over him. you ought to be flattered, because nobody else has.”
ruth went to the writing-room and stood beside clay with a reproachful smile. she felt pitiful. the man looked ill.
“we really can’t allow you to leave us in this way,” she said. “besides, it’s too late to think of business matters.”
“i suppose aynsley sent you,” he answered with grim bluntness. “it would be better if you took him in hand instead of me. the boy wants looking after; he’s got no nerve.”
“you ought not to blame him for feeling anxious about you. however, i’m your hostess and i don’t think you are treating me well. when i tell you to put away those papers you can’t disobey.”
clay gave her a steady look.
“anything you ask me will be done,” he said. “but, as a favor, will you give me another five minutes?”
“of course. but you might exceed it, so i think i’ll wait.”
before the time had quite elapsed clay closed the last envelope with a firm hand, and a few minutes later they entered the drawing-room and aynsley gave ruth a grateful glance.
when clay returned to vancouver he called at once on the doctor; and when he left his face was grim, for he had been plainly told that he was worse, and must change his mode of life at once; but this was more than clay could consent to do. he had money in a number of ventures, none of which had yet achieved the success he looked for. time was needed before he could bring them to the desired consummation, and if he sold out now it must be at a sacrifice of the handsome profit that might otherwise be secured. he would be left with only a moderate fortune, and he meant to be rich. ambitious as he was for his son, he had also a keen reluctance to leaving his work half finished. in fact, it was obvious that he must hold on for a year or two longer.
moreover, the doctor had warned him against increasing the dose of the restorative, which clay admitted having done. the powerful drug had braced him up when he suffered from reaction after any unusual strain and he had come to regard it as a reliable standby. now he must curtail its use, and he would feel the deprivation. then, since he was running some risk, it was advisable to take precautions. first of all, the wreck must be destroyed. if he should be cut off suddenly, no evidence must be left behind to spoil his son’s career. aynsley must bear an untarnished name.
the first step would be to get jimmy farquhar and his companions out of the way—to buy them off if possible; if not—a hard look crept into clay’s eyes, and he sat down at once and wrote a short note to jimmy.
