Cap'n Warren's Wards Part 47

Sylvester did not smile. "It is," he answered. "Come."

He led the way into the room opening from the rear of his own. It was a large apartment with a long table in the center. Mr. Kuhn, brisk and business-like, was already there. He shook hands with his client. As he did so, Graves, dignified and precise as ever, entered, carrying a small portfolio filled with papers.

"Mornin', Mr. Graves," said the captain; "glad to see you, even under such distressin' circ.u.mstances, as the undertaker said to the sick man.

Feelin' all right again, I hope. No more colds or nothin' like that?"

"No. Thank you. I am quite well, at present."

"That's hearty. If you and me don't do any more buggy ridin' in Cape Cod typhoons, we'll last a spell yet, hey? What you got there, the death warrant?" referring to the portfolio and its contents.

Mr. Graves evidently did not consider this flippancy worth a reply, for he made none.

"Sit down, gentlemen," said Sylvester.

The four took chairs at the table. Graves untied and opened the portfolio. Captain Elisha looked at his solemn companions, and his lips twitched.

"You'll excuse me," he observed, "but I feel as if I was goin' to be tried for piracy on the high seas. Has the court any objection to tobacco smoke? I'm puttin' the emphasis strong on the 'tobacco,'" he added, "because this is a cigar you give me yourself, Mr. Sylvester, last time I was down here."

"No, indeed," replied the senior partner. "Smoke, if you wish. No one here has any objection, unless it may be Graves."

"Oh, Mr. Graves ain't. He and I fired up together that night we fust met. Hot smoke tasted grateful after all the cold water we'd had poured onto us in that storm. Graves is all right. He's a sportin' character, like myself. Maybe he'll jine us. Got another cigar in my pocket."

But the invitation was declined. The "sporting character" might deign to relax amid proper and fitting surroundings, but not in the sacred precincts of his office. So the captain smoked alone.

"Well," he observed, after a few preliminary puffs, "go on! Don't keep me in suspenders, as the feller said. Where did the lightnin' strike, and what's the damage?"

Sylvester took a card from his pocket and referred to a penciled memorandum on its back.

"Captain Warren," he began, slowly, "as you know, and as directed by you, my partners here and I have been engaged for months in carefully going over your brother's effects, estimating values, tabulating and sorting his various properties and securities, separating the good from the worthless--and there was, as we saw at a glance, a surprising amount of the latter--"

"Um-hm," interrupted the captain, "Cut Short bonds and the like of that.

I know. Excuse me. Go on."

"Yes. Precisely. And there were many just as valueless. But we have been gradually getting those out of the way and listing and appraising the remainder. It was a tangle. Your brother's business methods, especially of late years, were decidedly unsystematic and slipshod. It may have been the condition of his health which prevented his attending to them as he should. Or," he hesitated slightly, "it may have been that he was secretly in great trouble and mental distress. At all events, the task has been a hard one for us. But, largely owing to Graves and his patient work, our report was practically ready a month ago."

He paused. Captain Elisha, who had been listening attentively, nodded.

"Yes," he said; "you told me 'twas. What does the whole thing tot up to?

What's the final figger, Mr. Graves?"

The junior partner adjusted his eyegla.s.ses to his thin nose.

"I have them here," he said. "The list of securities, et cetera, is rather long, but--"

"Never mind them now, Graves," interrupted Kuhn. "The amount, roughly speaking, is close to over our original estimate, half a million."

The captain drew a breath of relief. "Well," he exclaimed, "that's all right then, ain't it? That's no poorhouse pension."

Sylvester answered. "Yes," he said, "that's all right, as far as it goes."

"Humph! Well, I cal'late _I_ could make it go to the end of the route; and then have enough left for a return ticket. Say!" with another look at the solemn faces of the three, "what _is_ the row? If the estate is wuth ha'f a million, what's the matter with it?"

"That is what we are here this morning to discuss, Captain. A month ago, as I said, we considered our report practically ready. Then we suddenly happened on the trail of something which, upon investigation, upset all our calculations. If true, it threatened, not to mention its effect upon the estate, to prove so distressing and painful to us, Rodgers Warren's friends and legal advisers, that we decided not to alarm you, his brother, by disclosing our suspicions until we were sure there was no mistake. I did drop you a hint, you will remember--"

"I remember. _Now_ we're comin' to the rock!"

"Yes. Captain Warren, I think perhaps I ought to warn you that what my partners and I are about to say will shock and hurt you. I, personally, knew your brother well and respected him as an honorable business man. A lawyer learns not to put too much trust in human nature, but, I confess, this--this--"

He was evidently greatly disturbed. Captain Elisha, regarding him intently, nodded.

"I judge it's sort of hard for you to go on, Mr. Sylvester," he said.

"I'll help you all I can. You and Mr. Kuhn and Mr. Graves here have found out somethin' that ain't exactly straight in 'Bije's doin's? Am I right?"

"Yes, Captain Warren, you are."

"Somethin' that don't help his character, hey?"

"Yes."

"Somethin's he's, done that's--well, to speak plain, that's crooked?"

"I'm afraid there's no doubt of it."

"Humph!" The captain frowned. His cigar had gone out, and he idly twisted the stump between his fingers. "Well," he said, with a sigh, "our family, gen'rally speakin', has always held its head pretty high.

Dad was poor, but he prided himself on bein' straight as a plumb line.

And, as for mother, she...." Then, looking up quickly, he asked, "Does anybody outside know about this?"

"No one but ourselves--yet."

"Yet? Is it goin' to be necessary for anybody else to know it?"

"We hope not. But there is a possibility."

"I was thinkin' about the children."

"Of course. So are we all."

"Um-hm. Poor Caroline! she put her father on a sort of altar and bowed down afore him, as you might say. Any sort of disgrace to his name would about kill her. As for me," with another sigh, "I ain't so much surprised as you might think. I know that sounds tough to say about your own brother, but I've been afraid all along. You see, 'Bije always steered pretty close to the edge of the channel. He had ideas about honesty and fair dealin' in business that didn't jibe with mine. We split on just that, as I told you, Mr. Graves, when you and I fust met.

He got some South Denboro folks to invest money along with him; sort of savin's account, they figgered it; but I found out he was usin' it to speculate with. So that's why we had our row. I took pains to see that the money was paid back, but he and I never spoke afterwards. Fur as my own money was concerned, I hadn't any kick, but.... However, I'm talkin'

too much. Go on, Mr. Sylvester, I'm ready to hear whatever you've got to say."

"Thank you, Captain. You make it easier for me. It seems that your brother's first step toward wealth and success was taken about nineteen years ago. Then, somehow or other, probably through a combination of luck and shrewdness, he obtained a grant, a concession from the Brazilian Government, the long term lease of a good-sized tract of land on the upper Amazon. It was very valuable because of its rubber trees."

"Hey?" Captain Elisha leaned forward. "Say that again!" he commanded sharply.

Sylvester repeated his statement. "He got the concession by paying twenty thousand dollars to the government of Brazil," he continued. "To raise the twenty thousand he formed a stock company of two hundred and fifty shares at one hundred dollars each. One hundred of these shares were in his own name. Fifty were in the name of one 'Thomas A. Craven,'

a clerk at that time in his office. Craven was only a dummy, however. Do you understand what I mean by a dummy?"

"I can guess. Sort of a wooden image that moved when 'Bije pulled the strings. Like one of these straw directors that clutter up the insurance companies, 'cordin' to the papers. Yes, yes; I understand well enough.