The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him Part 44

The moment she was gone, Watts held out his hand, saying: "Here, old man, let us shake hands again. It's almost like going back to college days to see my old chum. Come to the snuggery, where we shan't be interrupted." They went through two rooms, to one fitted up as a smoking-room and office. "It's papa-in-law's workshop. He can't drop his work at the bank, so he brings it home and goes on here. Sit down. Here, take a cigar. Now, are you comfortable?"

"Yes."

"_Maintenant_, I suppose you want to know why I wrote you to come so quickly?"

"Yes."

"Well, the truth of it is, I'm in an awful mess. Yesterday I was so desperate I thought I should blow my brains out. I went round to the club to see if I couldn't forget or drown my trouble, just as sick as a man could be. Fellows talking. First thing I heard was your name. 'Just won a great case.' 'One of the best lawyers in New York.' Thinks I to myself, 'That's a special providence.' Peter always was the fellow to pull me through my college sc.r.a.pes. I'll write him.' Did it, and played billiards for the rest of the evening, secure in the belief that you would come to my help, just as you used to."

"Tell me what it is?"

"Even that isn't easy, chum. It's a devilish hard thing to tell even to you."

"Is it money trou--?"

"No, no!" Watts interrupted. "It isn't that. The truth is I've a great deal more money than is good for me, and apparently always shall have. I wish it were only that!"

"How can I help you?" began Peter.

"I knew you would," cried Watts, joyfully. "Just the same old reliable you always were. Here. Draw up nearer. That's it. Now then, here goes. I shan't mind if you are shocked at first. Be as hard on me as you like."

"Well?"

"Well, to make a long story short, I'm entangled with a woman, and there's the devil to pay. Now you'll pull me through, old man, won't you?"

"No."

"Don't say that, Peter! You must help me. You're my only hope.

"I do not care to mix myself in such a business," said Peter, very quietly. "I would rather know nothing about it." Peter rose.

"Don't desert me," cried Watts, springing to his feet, and putting his hand on Peter's shoulder, so as to prevent his progress to the door.

"Don't. She's going to expose me. Think of the disgrace! My G.o.d, Peter, think--"

"Take your hand off my shoulder."

"But Peter, think--"

"The time to think was before--not now, Watts. I will not concern myself in this."

"But, old man. I can't face it. It will kill Helen!"

Peter had already thrown aside the arm, and had taken a step towards the doorway. He stopped and turned. "She does not know?"

"Not a suspicion. And nothing but absolute proof will make her believe it. She wors.h.i.+ps me. Oh, Peter, save her! Save Leonore--if you won't save me!"

"Can they be saved?"

"That's what I want to know. Here--sit down, please! I'll tell you all about it."

Peter hesitated a moment, and then sat down.

"It began in Paris twelve years ago. Such affairs have a way of beginning in Paris, old man. It's in the atmosphere. She--"

"Stop. I will ask questions. There's no good going over the whole story." Peter tried to speak calmly, and to keep his voice and face from showing what he felt. He paused a moment, and then said: "She threatens to expose you. Why?"

"Well, after three years I tired of it and tried to end it. Then she used it to blackmail me for ten years, till, in desperation, I came to America, to see if I couldn't escape her."

"And she followed you?"

"Yes. She was always tracking me in Europe, and making my life a h.e.l.l on earth, and now she's followed me here."

"If it's merely a question of money, I don't see what you want of me."

"She says she doesn't want money now--but revenge. She's perfectly furious over my coming off without telling her--always had an awful temper--and--well, you know an infuriated woman is capable of anything.

The Spaniard was right who said it was easier to take care of a peck of fleas than one woman, eh, chum?"

"So she threatens to tell your wife?"

"No. She says she's going to summon me into court."

"On what grounds?"

"That's the worst part of it. You see, chum, there's a child, and she says she's going to apply for a proper support for it. Proper support!

Heavens! The money I've paid her would support ten children. It's only temper."

Peter said, "Watts, Watts," in a sad voice.

"Pretty bad, isn't it? If it wasn't for the child I could--"

Peter interrupted. "Has she any proofs of paternity besides--?"

Watts interrupted in turn. "Yes. Confound it! I was fool enough to write letters during my infatuation. Talleyrand was right when he said only fools and women wrote letters."

"How could you?"

"That's what I've asked myself a hundred times. Oh, I'm sorry enough.

I've sworn never to put pen to paper again. _Jamais!_"

"I did not mean the letters. But your vow."

"My vow?"

"Your marriage vow."

"Oh, yes. I know. But you know, chum, before you promise to love one woman for all time you should have seen them all."

"And that display ten minutes ago was all mockery?"