The Money Gods Part 17

Thus thrown upon his own resources, desperation seized him, and a blind fury at the treachery of the man whom they had trusted as their friend. Hastily crossing the room, and mindful of the old savage drill upon the football field, he ran full speed and hurled himself bodily against the door. Before that terrific impact, the wood split and splintered, and Mills, tearing wildly, with torn fingers, at the gap thus made, managed to force an opening--only to see, s.h.i.+mmering in the lamplight, again the glint of polished steel. And now despair, grim and relentless, gripped his heart. To him, who had loved life so ardently, and had lived it so emptily, appeared the shadow of Death.

Staggering, helpless, with blood trickling from nose and mouth, he retreated once again; again, with a last flicker of energy, charged the gate of steel; struck it, full force; fell reeling to his knees; tried to rise, tottered, and then, slowly, like some giant tree beneath the woodsman's axe, he crashed headlong, and lay still.

CHAPTER XX

The End

The glory of the morning turned the world to gold, and presently Atherton awakened, strengthened and refreshed, and for the first time since his accident, feeling that he was really himself once more.

Consciousness, or rather semi-consciousness, had returned a week ago, and since that time he had dwelt in a state of delightful convalescence, sleeping, eating, sleeping again, his body slowly regaining the energy destroyed by the ravages of the fever. He had been forbidden to talk, and at first, indeed, his brain had been too incurious for him to wonder greatly concerning the events of the night on which he had been struck down.

Helen herself was safe, for she had come often to relieve the nurse and to sit by his side, while he had purposely feigned sleep for the delight of watching her from half-closed eyes. And Mr. Hamilton was unharmed, for he too had found time to make occasional visits to the sick room. And therefore the success or failure of Stoat's mission had seemed to him, at first, a matter of relative unimportance. But now, as his strength returned, so did his interest in the whole affair, and he found himself hoping that Stoat had achieved what he was after, for that, he felt, would be the surest way of freeing the Hamilton household from danger. And if successful, how, he wondered, were Mills and Blagden progressing with their hair-brained scheme of acquiring riches untold.

His curiosity was soon to be gratified, for that afternoon, after the doctor had made his visit, Marshall Hamilton came into the room, and drew up a chair beside the bed.

"Doctor Carrington informs me," he began, "that you are out of all danger, and on the high-road to recovery."

Atherton felt instinctively that there was something behind the words, and that they were not the mere commonplaces they seemed. "Yes, indeed," he answered. "I'm feeling very fit. Almost as well as ever."

"That is good," the banker answered, "and I am doubly glad, because it now becomes necessary for us to have a talk of some importance."

It was coming, then. Atherton mentally braced himself for the ordeal.

"I am ready," he said.

There was silence. Then, "You had two friends," said Marshall Hamilton, "named Blagden and Mills."

Atherton gave him a quick glance, but the face of the financier was inscrutable. Yet Atherton was sure that the "had" was no mere slip of the tongue, and the significance of the word was not lost upon him.

"Yes," he answered, "that is so."

"They are dead," said Marshall Hamilton.

Atherton drew a quick breath, and though he heard with emotions strangely mingled, yet sorrow was uppermost in his heart. With Blagden he had differed, and Blagden had played him false, yet he had admired the man's courage, his energy, his enthusiasm, while as for Mills, poor old Tubby had always been a genial, kindly boy. And there was moisture in his eyes and a tightening in his throat as the financier went on, "They played with fire, and the flame consumed them. Yet through no fault of their own. They played boldly for a high stake and they played well. They must have been brave, ingenious, shrewd--"

He paused; then slowly and thoughtfully continued, "I have lived for over fifty years. I have enjoyed this world. I have tried to observe and study both myself and my fellow men. But to me the most fascinating thing in life has been to watch Destiny play its game with us all. Do you believe in G.o.d?"

Atherton hesitated. "No," he answered, "I do not think that I do."

"My own belief," said the banker, "is in a G.o.d, but not the G.o.d of the Bible. Moore, the novelist, has described him in a phrase which I have always admired. 'The Greater Aristophanes.' Isn't that perfect? He is not the blameless, faultless G.o.d of Scripture, but infinitely more human. He is a humorist; sometimes a grim one. Doubtless I appear to you to be wandering, but I am not. Here is the point. This Greater Aristophanes has played with us all--with you and your friends, with me and my friends, with my family and with Bellingham, my secretary--weaving us all into a strange, fantastic web, and always on the side of your friends until the final moment. And then--a sudden humor seizes him--he changes sides, and allows a blow to fall on your head. You become ill--delirious--and in your ravings you lay bare the whole mystery which has puzzled me for so long, and incidentally, through no fault of your own, you sign the death warrant of your friends."

Atherton, overwhelmed, lay silent. "Then you know," he said at length, "what the burglary was for?"

For answer, the banker drew forth his watch, held it up before Atherton's eyes, and replaced it in his pocket. "I know everything,"

he said. "This was no time for half measures. Rightly or wrongly, your belongings have been searched, and I have found the paper which explains the whole affair."

The pause lengthened. Apparently, it seemed to Atherton, the banker was giving him time to a.s.similate this news, and surely he needed it.

And more and more, as he reflected, grew his wonder as to what his position might be. Death had been meted out to Mills and Blagden for their knowledge. Why should he escape? Instinctively he glanced at the financier as if to read his thoughts, and as if he understood the look--indeed, as if he had been expecting it--Hamilton spoke.

"You are, perhaps, wondering," he said, "as to my att.i.tude toward you."

"That," responded Atherton, "is precisely what I should like to know."

"I have been," the banker answered, "greatly puzzled, but it has seemed to me that we should have a moment's talk of a most confidential nature. And I am not," he added grimly, "going to extort any pledge of secrecy. Knowing the fate of Bellingham, of Mills and of Blagden, you will understand why I deem that unnecessary."

In spite of himself, Atherton shuddered. He felt weak, powerless, as if he were lying bound in the path of some huge engine of destruction.

"This system, of which you are cognizant," continued the financier, "really exists. It is our policy to deny it, but with you that would hardly serve. It exists. It has existed for forty years. It is international in its scope, and although vague rumors are occasionally heard regarding it, and it is periodically a.s.sailed upon suspicion, so far our secrets have been so well guarded, and the punishment meted out to those who have spied upon us, or even talked about us, have been so crus.h.i.+ngly severe, that we have maintained an impregnable defence. The system is open to criticism; I do not deny that. To many men and women it has brought disaster, ruin, and even death. Yet people so const.i.tuted that they must gamble in the stock market would probably be unsuccessful in any event in whatever else they undertook; they are the world's weaklings, and their loss means little to the world. Moreover, somebody must rule this country; that is our real defence. Democracy is a farce, a failure, an idle dream. In any land, there must be an aristocracy of brains. Therefore we rule, and on the whole, I think, wisely. We permeate everywhere; we dominate everything; Politics, Commerce, the whole domain of Trade, they are all ours; we are the Country's uncrowned kings. Thus the market is only one source of our revenue, though our most important source.

Without us, there would exist a state of chaos. For forty years, we have averted panics; steered the nation through crisis after crisis; our function is really that of a mighty balance wheel. In a word, we do evil that ultimate good may come. Do I make myself clear?"

Atherton had listened, spell-bound. At last doubt had changed to certainty; the picture was complete. "Yes," he answered, "I understand."

"And now," continued Hamilton, "as to your position. By all the rules of the game, you should have ceased to trouble us, two weeks ago. One thing has saved you. Unfortunately for me, it appears that my daughter cares for you. Though why," he added whimsically, "she could not have fallen in love with someone else, is more than I can see."

Atherton flushed. "I know," he began, "I'm not in the least worthy of her--" But the banker cut him short. "There, there," he said, "I wasn't really serious. I believe you are a clean and honorable young man--you have shown that in many ways--and I think I may offer you a choice. You may take a subordinate place in our organization. It will have many attractions. You will prosper; you will make money; you may rise, if you possess the ability, even to the greatest heights of all.

But you will give your undivided allegiance. You will rid yourself of all emotions of pity. You will see the lambs led to the shearing; you will help to lead them there. But you will gain the pride of place, and glory in the eyes of men."

Before Atherton's eyes swept a vision of the seething brokerage offices, the eager crowds, the whirring, clicking tickers, the dreamers of dreams that were destined never to come true. And unhesitatingly he answered, "Mr. Hamilton, never again, as long as I live, do I wish to see the inside of a broker's office; never again do I wish to hear the opening bell, to see the tape begin to tell its lying story. Let me be a poor man all my life; but let me do some honest work, if it's no more than turning out bolts or nails on a machine. Anything in the world but what you offer me."

The banker regarded him, apparently not displeased. "I will not say,"

he answered, "that you are unwise. We play a great game, but a dangerous one. Our fortunes swell to the bursting point; labor watches and threatens; the people are not blind; it is a condition which may bring about its own cure. There may come revolution, death and destruction--no man can tell. Therefore, you are perhaps wise to choose the factory and the chance to rise through your own endeavors.

And that, I take it, is your choice."

"There is nothing," Atherton answered, "that I should like better."

"Very well," the banker responded, "but remember this." And as he spoke, his voice became low and stern. "You have done me more than one favor; I do you one now. But I consider that by doing so we are quits, and more than quits. Forget what you have seen, what you have heard, what you know. Think of it as a dream, dissolving into air. For if ever in the future you breathe one word, one whisper, of what you have learned, you are that moment a dead man, and mine will be the first hand raised to strike you down."

Atherton, without flinching, returned his gaze, realizing as never before the power of this vast order which ruled with such an iron hand, and realizing, too, his own insignificance, his utter helplessness, his inability to do aught else than to comply. "I give you my word," he answered. "What I know is forgotten."

The banker rose. "Then the whole incident," he said, "is closed. I wish you a speedy recovery, and now I think there is another visitor waiting to see you, no doubt impatiently."

He left the room, and Atherton, wearied, for a moment closed his eyes.

A splendor of suns.h.i.+ne flooded the world without; an oriole in the swaying elm filled the air with song. All things spoke of youth and life and joy.

So softly did she enter that he did not hear her cross the room, and it was only when he opened his eyes again that he knew that dream and reality were one, and that before them lay the long, bright years, for him and the girl he loved to traverse, side by side.