A Chicago Princess

“Not likely. She didn’t engage me, and therefore has no standing in the contract. But, to return to ourselves, which is always the paramount subject of interest, this dread secret, as you called it, puts an entirely different complexion on our relations. You must see that. Here have I been suing you under the impression that you were a helpless dependent. Now you turn out to be an heiress of the most pronounced transatlantic type. You once accused me of being dull in comprehension.”

“I never did.”

“Well, people do accuse me of that; nevertheless I am brilliant enough to perceive that this is a transformation scene, and that the dreams which I have indulged in regarding our relationship are no longer feasible.”

Hilda clasped her hands and rested her elbows on the wicker table, leaning forward toward me with an expression half quizzical, half pathetic.

“I never called you dull, Mr. Tremorne – ”

“Rupert, if you please.”

“ – but I did think you slightly original, Rupertus. Now, your talk of all this making a great difference is quite along the line of conventional melodrama. I see you are about to wave me aside. ‘Rich woman, begone,’ say you. You are going out into the world, registering a vow that until you can place dollar for dollar on the marriage altar you will shun me. Now I have read that sort of thing ever since I perused ‘The Romance of a Poor Young Man,’ but I never expected to encounter in real life this haughty, inflexible, poor young man.”

“Rich woman, there are many surprises here below, and of course you cannot avoid your share of them. However, I shall not so haughtily wave you aside until you have answered that important question with a word of three letters rather than one of two. I cannot refuse what is not proffered. So will you kindly put me in a position to enact a haughty poor young man by saying definitely whether you will marry me or not?”

“I reply, ‘Yes, yes, yes, yes,’ and a thousand other yes’s, if you wish them. Now, young man, what have you to say?”

“I have this to say, young woman, that your wealth entirely changes the situation.”

“And I maintain it doesn’t, not a particle.”

“I will show you how it does. I was poor, and I thought you were poor. Therefore it was my duty, as you remarked, to go out into the world and wring money from somebody. That, luckily, is no longer necessary. Hilda, we may be married this very day. Come, I dare you to consent.”

“Oh!” she cried, dropping her hands to her side and leaning back in her creaking chair, looking critically at me with eyes almost veiled by their long lashes, a kindly smile, however, hovering about her pretty lips. “You are in a hurry, aren’t you?”

“Yes, you didn’t expect to clear the way so effectively when you spoke?”

Before she could reply we were interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Hemster, who carried a long sealed envelope in his hand. He gazed affectionately at the girl for a moment or two, then pinched her flushed cheek.

“Hilda, my dear,” he said, “I never saw you looking exactly like this before. What have you two been talking about? Something pleasant, I suppose.”

“Yes, we were,” replied Hilda pertly; “we were saying what a nice man Silas K. Hemster is.”

The old gentleman turned his glance toward me with something of shrewd inquiry in it.

“Hilda,” he said slowly, “you mustn’t believe too much in nice men, young or old. They sometimes prove very disappointing. Especially do I warn you against this confidential secretary of mine. He is the most idiotically impractical person I have ever met. Would you believe it, my dear, that he was to-day offered two hundred and fifty thousand dollars if he would merely keep quiet about something he knew which he thought was his duty to tell me, and he was fool enough to refuse the good and useful cash?”

“Please tell Miss Stretton, Mr. Hemster, that the good and useful cash bore the ugly name of bribe, and tell her further that you would have refused it yourself.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I don’t want the girl to think me quite in my dotage yet. Such a sum is not picked up so easily every day on the streets of Nagasaki, as I think you found out a while ago.”

“It may be picked up on board a yacht,” said Hilda archly, smiling up at him.

“Ah, you’re getting beyond me now. I don’t know what you mean, Hilda,” and he pinched her cheek again.

“And now, Mr. Tremorne, I am sorry to send you away again without lunch, but business must be attended to even if we have to subsist on sandwiches. How old a man is this Cammerford?”

“About forty, I should think.”

“Does he strike you as a capable individual?”

“Naturally he does. He has proved himself to be much more capable than I am.”

“Oh, that’s no recommendation. Well, I want you to take this letter to him; it is my ultimatum, and you may tell him so. He must either accept or refuse. I shall not dicker or modify my terms. If he accepts, then bring him right over to the yacht with you; if he refuses, you tell him I will have him wiped out before he can set foot in San Francisco.” He handed me the sealed envelope.

“You see you were in at the beginning of this business, so I’d like you to be on hand at the finish. I’m sorry to make an errand-boy of you, Tremorne, but we are a little distant from the excellent messenger service of Chicago.”

I rose at once, placed the envelope in my inside pocket, and said:

“I shall do my best, Mr. Hemster, although, as you have remarked, I seem to be little more than a messenger-boy in the negotiations.”

“Oh, not at all; you’re ambassador, that’s what you are; a highly honourable position, and I feel certain that as you are not particularly fond of Cammerford your manner will go far toward showing him his own insignificance. When he once realizes how powerless he is, we’ll have no further difficulty with him.”

I laughed, received a sweet smile from Hilda and a kindly nod from Hemster, then turned to the gangway and was in the ever-ready naptha launch a moment later.

Cammerford was not expecting me, so I had to search for him, and at last ran him down at the equivalent of the American bar which Nagasaki possesses for the elimination of loneliness from the children of the Spread Eagle.

“Have a drink with me, Tremorne,” cried Cammerford, as genially as if we were the oldest possible friends.

“Thanks, no!” I replied. “I’d sooner meet the muzzle of a revolver than imbibe the alleged American drinks they furnish at this place. You see, I know the town; besides, I’ve come on business.”

“Ah, is the old man going to see me, then?”

“That will depend on your answer to his letter which I have here in my pocket. May I suggest an adjournment to your rooms in the hotel?”

“Certainly, certainly,” muttered Cammerford hastily, evidently all aquiver with excitement and anxiety.

When we reached his apartments he thrust out his hand eagerly for the letter, which I gave to him. He ripped it open on the instant, and, standing by the window, read it through to the end, then, tossing it on the table, he threw back his head and gave utterance to a peal of laughter which had an undercurrent of relief in it.

“I was to tell you,” said I, as soon as I could make myself heard, “that this document is by way of being an ultimatum, and if you do not see fit to accept it – ”

“Oh, that’s all right, my dear boy,” he cried, interrupting me. “Accept it? Of course I do, but first I must tender an abject apology to you.”

“There is no necessity, Mr. Cammerford,” I protested, “I hope that is not a proviso in the communication?”

“No, my dear boy, it is not. I offer the apology most sincerely on my own initiative. Actually I took you for a fool, but you are a damned sight shrewder man than I am. I told you when you were here that I could not get on to your game, but now I see it straight as a string, and I wonder I was such a chump as not to suspect it before. Tremorne, you’re a genius. Of course your proper way of working was through the old man with that cursed high-bred air of honesty which you can assume better than any one I ever met. That kind of thing was bound to appeal to the old man because he’s such an unmitigated rogue himself. Yes, my dear boy, you’ve played your cards well, and I congratulate you.”

“I haven’t the least idea what you are driving at,” I said.

“Do you mean to tell me you don’t know what is in this letter?”

“The letter was delivered to me sealed, and I have delivered it sealed to you. I have no more notion what it contains than you had before I handed it to you.”

“Is that really a fact? Well, Tremorne, you’re a constant puzzle and delight to me. This world would be a less interesting place if you were out of it. It is an ever-recurring problem to me whether you’re deep or shallow; but if you are shallow I’ll say this, that it cuts more ice than depth would do. Well, just cast your eyes over the last paragraph in that letter.” He tossed across the final sheet to me, and I read as follows:

“The condition under which I shall treat with you is this: You will place at once in the Bank of Japan, to the order of Rupert Tremorne, the five hundred thousand dollars you borrowed from him, together with interest compounded for three years at six per cent. If, as is likely, you are not in a position to hand over such a sum, you may pay half the amount into the Bank of Japan here, and cable to have the other half similarly placed in the First National Bank of Chicago. The moment I receive cable advice from my confidential man of business in Chicago that the money is in the bank there, or the moment you show me the whole amount is in the bank here, I shall carry out the promises I have made in the body of this letter.

“Yours truly,“Silas K. Hemster.”

The look of astonishment that doubtless came into my face must have appeared genuine to Cammerford as he watched me keenly across the table. I handed the letter back to him.

“I assure you I know nothing of this proviso.”

“In that case,” said Cammerford airily, “I hope you will have no objection to paying me back the money when once you have received it. I trust that your silk-stockinged idea of strict honesty will impel you toward the course I have suggested.”

“I am very sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Cammerford, but circumstances have changed since I saw you last, and, if you don’t mind, I’ll keep the money.”

Cammerford laughed heartily; he was in riotous good humour, and I suppose his compensation in this trust-forming business would be so enormous that the amount paid into the bank seemed trifling by comparison.

“I should be glad,” said I, rising, “if you would pen a few words to Mr. Hemster accepting or declining his offer.”

“Of course I will, dear boy,” he replied, taking the latest pattern of fountain pen from his waistcoat pocket; “you are the most courteous of messengers, and I shall not keep you two shakes.” Whereupon he rapidly scrawled a note, blotted it, sealed it, and handed it to me.

He arose and accompanied me to the door, placing me under some temporary inconvenience by slapping me boisterously on the shoulder.

“Tremorne, old man, you’re a brick, and a right-down deep one after all. I’m ever so much obliged to you for lending me your money, although I did not think it would be recalled so soon, and I did not expect the interest to be so heavy. Still, I needed it at the time, and put it where it has done the most good. So long, old fellow. You will imagine yourself a rich man to-morrow.”

“I imagine myself a rich man to-day, Mr. Cammerford.”

CHAPTER XX

On reaching the yacht I went directly to the old gentleman’s office and handed him Cammerford’s letter, which he tore open, read, and tossed on the desk.

“Mr. Hemster,” said I, while an emotion which I had not suspected myself of possessing caused my voice to tremble a little; “Mr. Hemster, I don’t know how I can thank you for what you have done for me to-day.”

“Oh, that’s all right, that’s all right!” he said gruffly, as if the reference annoyed him. “What you need is a guardian.”

“I think,” said I, “I have secured one.”

The old gentleman glanced up at me quickly.

“Is that so? Well, if the land lays as I have suspected, I congratulate you. Yes, and I congratulate Hilda also. As for a guardian, you have chosen a good one, and now don’t begin to thank me over again, but go and tell her all about it.”

Thus dismissed, I went to the saloon, and there found the lady of whom I was in search, and persuaded her to come up on deck with me. In spite of the vexatious interruption to which we had been forced to submit at this spot, I had become attached to the locality of the two chairs and the wicker table.

“I like this place,” said I, “for its associations, and yet I am certain, the moment we begin to talk, Mr. Hemster will order me overboard, or his daughter will tell you to go down below.”

“There is no immediate danger,” answered Hilda. “Mr. Hemster is busy, and his daughter has not returned from Nagasaki; I suspect, however, that you should be down in the office helping your chief, rather than up here frivolously gossiping with me.”

“I am obeying orders in being up here. My chief, as you call him, told me to search you out and tell you all about it.”

“All about what?”

“Did you tell Mr. Hemster anything of our conversation after I left?”

“Not a word. Poor dear, his mind was occupied with other matters. He talked about you, and fished, – in, oh, such an awkward way, – to find out what I thought of you. He gave me much good counsel which I shall ever treasure, and he warned me to beware of fascinating young men, and not allow myself to become too deeply interested. Indeed I yearned to let him know that his caution was already too late; but, not being sure whether that would ease his mind or cause it greater anxiety, I held my peace. I wish you would tell him. Perhaps I should do it myself, but I cannot find the exact words, I am afraid.”

“I’ll tell him with great pleasure. No, to be honest, I have already told him.”

“Really, and what did he say?”

“Oh, he said I needed a guardian, and I informed him I had already secured one. He twigged the situation in a moment, congratulated me on my choice, and ordered me to come and tell you all about it.”

“Tell me all about what? I’ve asked you that before.”

“Why, about the money with which we are to start housekeeping. Mr. Hemster estimates that it will amount to something more than half a million.”

Hilda sat back in her chair with a remote resemblance to a frown on her pretty brow.

“That was what you were discussing with Mr. Hemster, was it?” she said primly.

“Of course. Don’t you think it most important?”

“I suppose it is.”

“He certainly thought so, and looked on me as very fortunate coming into such a tidy sum so easily.”

“Easily! Did he, indeed?”

“Yes, he’s awfully pleased about it, and so am I.”

“I am delighted to hear it.”

“He said you would be, and he regards me as more than lucky, which, to tell the truth, I acknowledge that I am. You see it was such a complete surprise. I hadn’t expected anything at all, and to find myself suddenly the possessor of such a sum, all because of a few words, seemed almost too good to be true.”

Hilda was leaning back in her chair; there was no question about the frown now, which was visible enough, and, as I prattled on, the displeasure in her speaking eyes became deeper and deeper.

“All because of a few words!” she murmured, as if talking to herself.

“Certainly. Plain, simple, straightforward words, yet look what an effect they had. They practically make me an independent man, even rich, as I should count riches, although I suppose Mr. Hemster wouldn’t consider the amount very important.”

“Probably not, but you seem to look upon the amount as very, very important, – even of paramount importance, I should say.”

“Oh, not of paramount importance, of course, but nevertheless I shall always regard this day as the most fortunate of my life.”

“Really? Because of the money, I suppose?”

“Now, Hilda,” I protested, “you must admit that money is exceedingly necessary.”

“I do admit it. So Mr. Hemster was more pleased about your getting the money than anything else?”

“Oh, I don’t say that, but he certainly was delighted with my luck, and what true friend wouldn’t be? I am sure my people at home will be overjoyed when they hear the news.”

“Because of the money?” reiterated Hilda, with more of irritation in her tone than I had ever heard there before.

“Why not? Such a lump of gold is not won every day.”

“By a few simple words,” suggested Hilda tartly.

“Exactly. If you choose the psychological moment and use the right words they form a great combination, I can tell you, and success is sure to follow.”

“Deserving man! I think those that called you a fool were mistaken, don’t you?”

“Yes, I rather imagine they are, and in fact that has been admitted.”

“So you and Mr. Hemster have been discussing this money question down in your office?”

“Yes, at first, of course. I began about the money at once, and thanked him sincerely for what he had done.”

“You were quite right; if it had not been for him there would have been no money to make you so jubilant.”

“That’s exactly what I told him. ‘Mr. Hemster’ said I, ‘if it had not been for your action I should never have got a penny.’”

“Well,” said Hilda, with a little break in her voice that went right to my heart and made me ashamed of myself, while the moisture gathered in her eyes, “and so you and Mr. Hemster at last got to me, and began to discuss me after the money question had been exhausted. Really, I suppose I should be thankful to have received so much attention. I wish I had known that gold occupied so large a space in your thoughts, and then I should have entered more accurately into particulars. I told you the amount was two or three times the face value of the stock, but it is what you say, over half a million, and now if you don’t mind I shall go downstairs for a while.”

“I do mind. I want to speak to you, Hilda.”

“I would rather not talk any more just now. If you are wise you will say nothing until I have had time to think it all over.”

“But I never claimed to be wise, Hilda. Sit down again, I beg of you. Indeed you must, I shall not let you go at this juncture.”

The flash in her eyes chased away the mist that had veiled them.

“Sir,” she cried, “you are only making matters worse. If you have any care for me, say no more until I see you again.”

“Hilda,” said I, “I can make it all right with you in five minutes. What will you bet?”

“If you are jesting, I am tired of it. Can’t you see I don’t want to talk. Don’t you understand you have said enough? Do be content. I wish I hadn’t a penny of money, and that I had never told you.”

I now became aware that I was on the horns of a dilemma; I had gone too far, as a stupid man will who thinks he is on the track of a joke. The dear girl was on the verge of tears, and I saw that if I suddenly proclaimed the jest her sorrow would turn into anger against me, and my last state might be worse than my first. I had got this joke by the tail, and the whole dilemma arose through not knowing whether it was safer to hang on or let go. I quickly decided to hang on. I trusted to escape by reason of our national reputation for unreadiness, and determined to stand to my guns and proclaim that all along I had been speaking of my own fortune and not of hers. My obtuseness she would pity and forgive, but ill-timed levity and trifling with her most cherished feelings on this day of all others might produce consequences I dared not face.

“Hilda,” I said, with what dignity I could bring to my command, “you actually seem sorry at my good fortune. I assure you I expected you would rejoice with me. When I spoke to you this morning I was to all intents and purposes a penniless man, and yet, as Mr. Hemster himself informed you, I had but an hour before refused two hundred and fifty thousand dollars as a bribe. That money was but half of the fortune which this man Cammerford had previously looted from me. Now, through a few simple words in the letter Mr. Hemster wrote to him, this man is going to refund the whole half million, with interest for three years at six per cent. Therefore, my darling, imagine the delight with which I learned of this great stroke of good luck. No living person could assert here or hereafter that I was an impecunious fortune-hunter, although equally, of course, no person could have convinced you that your money weighed a particle with me when I asked you to honour me as you have done. And now, really perhaps I am too sensitive, but it seems to me that you do not take the news so kindly as I had expected.”

She swayed a moment, then sank helplessly down into the armchair again.

“Rupert,” she said, looking across at me with a puzzled pathos in her eyes that made me ashamed of myself; “Rupert, what are you talking about? Or am I dreaming? What half million is this you are referring to? I told you that my fortune was two or three times the hundred thousand, but I supposed you had found out its real value. Now you seem to have been speaking of something else.”

“Hilda,” I cried, with a horror that I hope was well simulated, – Lord forgive me for the necessity of using it, – “Hilda, you never supposed for a moment that I was referring to your money?”

Her troubled face seemed fixed on something intangible in the distance, as if her mind were trying to recall our conversation, that she might find some point in what I had said to account for the mistake she supposed herself to have made. The double meaning of my words was apparent enough, but of course every sentence I had uttered applied to her money equally well with my own. Now that enlightenment had come, her supposed error became obtrusively plain to her. She turned her puzzled face to me, and her expression melted into one of great tenderness as she reached forward her two hands and laid her palms on the back of mine, which rested on the wicker table.

“Rupert,” she said in a low voice, “will you forgive me? I have deeply misjudged you.”

“Hilda,” said I, “would you have forgiven me if I had been in the wrong?”

“I would, I would, I would,” she cried, and it was plain that she meant it, yet I did not dare to risk a full confession. What brutes we men are after all, and how much we stand in need of forgiveness every day of our lives!

“Tell me all about this newly found treasure,” she said, and now I launched out on fresh ground once more, resolving never to get on such thin ice again after so narrow an escape. As we talked, the indefatigable little naphtha launch came alongside, and Gertrude Hemster appeared at the gangway, followed by her miniature Countess. Miss Hemster was good enough to ignore us entirely, and, after a few words to her new companion, disappeared down the companion-way. The Countess toddled up to where we sat, and, addressing Hilda, said in her high-keyed Japanese voice:

“Mees Stretton, the mistress desires your attendance immediately,” and with that she toddled away again. Hilda rose at once.

“Don’t go,” I commanded; but she smiled, and held out her hand to me.

“Isn’t it funny,” she said; “you and I together are equal to one millionaire, yet we have to dance attendance when called upon, but, unlike others in bondage, we don’t need to cry, ‘How long, O Lord! how long?’ do we?”

“Not on your life, Hilda, as they say in the Wild West. The day of jubilee is a-coming my dear,” and, in spite of her trying to slip away, I put my arm around her and drew her toward me.

“Oh, the captain is looking at us,” she whispered in alarm.

“The captain is a good friend of ours, and has done the same in his time, I dare say,” and with that I – . Hilda swung herself free and fled, red as a rose. On glancing up at the bridge I noticed that the captain had suddenly turned his back on us. I always did like that rough man from Cape Cod, who would haunt the bridge during his waking hours whether the ship had steam up or not.

CHAPTER XXI

Next day was the most eventful I had spent on the yacht in spite of all that had gone before, for a few moments were filled with a peril which we escaped, as one might say, by a miracle, or more accurately by the prompt and energetic action of a capable man whom I shall always regard with deep affection. If Cape Cod has turned out many like him, it is a notable section of a great country.