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Within the Law: From the Play of Bayard Veiller, a novel by Marvin Dana |
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Chapter 3. Only Three Years |
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_ CHAPTER III. ONLY THREE YEARS When, at last, the owner of the store entered the office, his face showed extreme irritation. He did not vouchsafe any greeting to the secretary, who regarded him with an accurate perception of his mood. With a diplomacy born of long experience, in her first speech Sarah afforded an agreeable diversion to her employer's line of thought. "Mr. Hastings, of the Empire store, called you up, Mr. Gilder, and asked me to let him know when you returned. Shall I get him on the wire?" The man's face lightened instantly, and there was even the beginning of a smile on his lips as he seated himself at the great mahogany desk. "Yes, yes!" he exclaimed, with evident enthusiasm. The smile grew in the short interval before the connection was made. When, finally, he addressed his friend over the telephone, his tones were of the cheerfulest. "Oh, good morning. Yes, certainly. Four will suit me admirably.... Sunday? Yes, if you like. We can go out after church, and have luncheon at the country club." After listening a moment, he laughed in a pleased fashion that had in it a suggestion of conscious superiority. "My dear fellow," he declared briskly, "you couldn't beat me in a thousand years. Why, I made the eighteen holes in ninety-two only last week." He laughed again at the answer over the wire, then hung up the receiver and pushed the telephone aside, as he turned his attention to the papers neatly arranged on the desk ready to his hand. The curiosity of the secretary could not be longer delayed. "What did they do with the Turner girl?" she inquired in an elaborately casual manner. Gilder did not look up from the heap of papers, but answered rather harshly, while once again his expression grew forbidding. "I don't know--I couldn't wait," he said. He made a petulant gesture as he went on: "I don't see why Judge Lawlor bothered me about the matter. He is the one to impose sentence, not I. I am hours behind with my work now." For a few minutes he gave himself up to the routine of business, distributing the correspondence and other various papers for the action of subordinates, and speaking his orders occasionally to the attentive secretary with a quickness and precision that proclaimed the capable executive. The observer would have realized at once that here was a man obviously fitted to the control of large affairs. The ability that marches inevitably to success showed unmistakably in the face and form, and in the fashion of speech. Edward Gilder was a big man physically, plainly the possessor of that abundant vital energy which is a prime requisite for achievement in the ordering of modern business concerns. Force was, indeed, the dominant quality of the man. His tall figure was proportionately broad, and he was heavily fleshed. In fact, the body was too ponderous. Perhaps, in that characteristic might be found a clue to the chief fault in his nature. For he was ponderous, spiritually and mentally, as well as materially. The fact was displayed suggestively in the face, which was too heavy with its prominent jowls and aggressive chin and rather bulbous nose. But there was nothing flabby anywhere. The ample features showed no trace of weakness, only a rude, abounding strength. There was no lighter touch anywhere. Evidently a just man according to his own ideas, yet never one to temper justice with mercy. He appeared, and was, a very practical and most prosaic business man. He was not given to a humorous outlook on life. He took it and himself with the utmost seriousness. He was almost entirely lacking in imagination, that faculty which is essential to sympathy. "Take this," he directed presently, when he had disposed of the matters before him. Forthwith, he dictated the following letter, and now his voice took on a more unctuous note, as of one who is appreciative of his own excellent generosity. "THE EDITOR, He turned an inquiring glance toward Sarah. "That's what I usually give, isn't it?" The secretary nodded energetically. "Yes," she agreed in her brisk manner, "that's what you have given every year for the last ten years." The statement impressed Gilder pleasantly. His voice was more mellow as he made comment. His heavy face was radiant, and he smiled complacently. "Ten thousand dollars to this one charity alone!" he exclaimed. "Well, it is pleasant to be able to help those less fortunate than ourselves." He paused, evidently expectant of laudatory corroboration from the secretary. But Sarah, though she could be tactful enough on occasion, did not choose to meet her employer's anticipations just now. For that matter, her intimate services permitted on her part some degree of familiarity with the august head of the establishment. Besides, she did not stand in awe of Gilder, as did the others in his service. No man is a hero to his valet, or to his secretary. Intimate association is hostile to hero-worship. So, now, Sarah spoke nonchalantly, to the indignation of the philanthropist: "Oh, yes, sir. Specially when you make so much that you don't miss it." Gilder's thick gray brows drew down in a frown of displeasure, while his eyes opened slightly in sheer surprise over the secretary's unexpected remark. He hesitated for only an instant before replying with an air of great dignity, in which was a distinct note of rebuke for the girl's presumption. "The profits from my store are large, I admit, Sarah. But I neither smuggle my goods, take rebates from railroads, conspire against small competitors, nor do any of the dishonest acts that disgrace other lines of business. So long as I make my profits honestly, I am honestly entitled to them, no matter how big they are." The secretary, being quite content with the havoc she had wrought in her employer's complacency over his charitableness, nodded, and contented herself with a demure assent to his outburst. "Yes, sir," she agreed, very meekly. Gilder stared at her for a few seconds, somewhat indignantly. Then, he bethought himself of a subtle form of rebuke by emphasizing his generosity. "Have the cashier send my usual five hundred to the Charities Organization Society," he ordered. With this new evidence of his generous virtue, the frown passed from his brows. If, for a fleeting moment, doubt had assailed him under the spur of the secretary's words, that doubt had now vanished under his habitual conviction as to his sterling worth to the world at large. It was, therefore, with his accustomed blandness of manner that he presently acknowledged the greeting of George Demarest, the chief of the legal staff that looked after the firm's affairs. He was aware without being told that the lawyer had called to acquaint him with the issue in the trial of Mary Turner. "Well, Demarest?" he inquired, as the dapper attorney advanced into the room at a rapid pace, and came to a halt facing the desk, after a lively nod in the direction of the secretary. The lawyer's face sobered, and his tone as he answered was tinged with constraint. "Judge Lawlor gave her three years," he replied, gravely. It was plain from his manner that he did not altogether approve. But Gilder was unaffected by the attorney's lack of satisfaction over the result. On the contrary, he smiled exultantly. His oritund voice took on a deeper note, as he turned toward the secretary. "Good!" he exclaimed. "Take this, Sarah." And he continued, as the girl opened her notebook and poised the pencil: "Be sure to have Smithson post a copy of it conspicuously in all the girls' dressing-rooms, and in the reading-room, and in the lunch-rooms, and in the assembly-room." He cleared his throat ostentatiously and proceeded to the dictation of the notice: "Mary Turner, formerly employed in this store, was to-day sentenced to prison for three years, having been convicted for the theft of goods valued at over four hundred dollars. The management wishes again to draw attention on the part of its employees to the fact that honesty is always the best policy.... Got that?" "Yes, sir." The secretary's voice was mechanical, without any trace of feeling. She was not minded to disturb her employer a second time this morning by injudicious comment. "Take it to Smithson," Gilder continued, "and tell him that I wish him to attend to its being posted according to my directions at once." Again, the girl made her formal response in the affirmative, then left the room. Gilder brought forth a box of cigars from a drawer of the desk, opened it and thrust it toward the waiting lawyer, who, however, shook his head in refusal, and continued to move about the room rather restlessly. Demarest paid no attention to the other's invitation to a seat, but the courtesy was perfunctory on Gilder's part, and he hardly perceived the perturbation of his caller, for he was occupied in selecting and lighting a cigar with the care of a connoisseur. Finally, he spoke again, and now there was an infinite contentment in the rich voice. "Three years--three years! That ought to be a warning to the rest of the girls." He looked toward Demarest for acquiescence. The lawyer's brows were knit as he faced the proprietor of the store. "Funny thing, this case!" he ejaculated. "In some features, one of the most unusual I have seen since I have been practicing law." The smug contentment abode still on Gilder's face as he puffed in leisurely ease on his cigar and uttered a trite condolence. "Very sad!--quite so! Very sad case, I call it." Demarest went on speaking, with a show of feeling: "Most unusual case, in my estimation. You see, the girl keeps on declaring her innocence. That, of course, is common enough in a way. But here, it's different. The point is, somehow, she makes her protestations more convincing than they usually do. They ring true, as it seems to me." Gilder smiled tolerantly. "They didn't ring very true to the jury, it would seem," he retorted. And his voice was tart as he added: "Nor to the judge, since he deemed it his duty to give her three years." "Some persons are not very sensitive to impressions in such cases, I admit," Demarest returned, coolly. If he meant any subtlety of allusion to his hearer, it failed wholly to pierce the armor of complacency. "The stolen goods were found in her locker," Gilder declared in a tone of finality. "Some of them, I have been given to understand, were actually in the pocket of her coat." "Well," the attorney said with a smile, "that sort of thing makes good-enough circumstantial evidence, and without circumstantial evidence there would be few convictions for crime. Yet, as a lawyer, I'm free to admit that circumstantial evidence alone is never quite safe as proof of guilt. Naturally, she says some one else must have put the stolen goods there. As a matter of exact reasoning, that is quite within the measure of possibility. That sort of thing has been done countless times." Gilder sniffed indignantly. "And for what reason?" he demanded. "It's too absurd to think about." "In similar cases," the lawyer answered, "those actually guilty of the thefts have thus sought to throw suspicion on the innocent in order to avoid it on themselves when the pursuit got too hot on their trail. Sometimes, too, such evidence has been manufactured merely to satisfy a spite against the one unjustly accused." "It's too absurd to think about," Gilder repeated, impatiently. "The judge and the jury found no fault with the evidence." Demarest realized that this advocacy in behalf of the girl was hardly fitting on the part of the legal representative of the store she was supposed to have robbed, so he abruptly changed his line of argument. "She says that her record of five years in your employ ought to count something in her favor." Gilder, however, was not disposed to be sympathetic as to a matter so flagrantly opposed to his interests. "A court of justice has decreed her guilty," he asserted once again, in his ponderous manner. His emphasis indicated that there the affair ended. Demarest smiled cynically as he strode to and fro. "Nowadays," he shot out, "we don't call them courts of justice: we call them courts of law." Gilder yielded only a rather dubious smile over the quip. This much he felt that he could afford, since those same courts served his personal purposes well in deed. "Anyway," he declared, becoming genial again, "it's out of our hands. There's nothing we can do, now." "Why, as to that," the lawyer replied, with a hint of hesitation, "I am not so sure. You see, the fact of the matter is that, though I helped to prosecute the case, I am not a little bit proud of the verdict." Gilder raised his eyebrows in unfeigned astonishment. Even yet, he was quite without appreciation of the attorney's feeling in reference to the conduct of the case. "Why?" he questioned, sharply. "Because," the lawyer said, again halting directly before the desk, "in spite of all the evidence against her, I am not sure that Mary Turner is guilty--far from it, in fact!" Gilder uttered an ejaculation of contempt, but Demarest went on resolutely. "Anyhow," he explained, "the girl wants to see you, and I wish to urge you to grant her an interview." Gilder flared at this suggestion, and scowled wrathfully on the lawyer, who, perhaps with professional prudence, had turned away in his rapid pacing of the room. "What's the use?" Gilder stormed. A latent hardness revealed itself at the prospect of such a visitation. And along with this hardness came another singular revelation of the nature of the man. For there was consternation in his voice, as he continued in vehement expostulation against the idea. If there was harshness in his attitude there was, too, a fugitive suggestion of tenderness alarmed over the prospect of undergoing such an interview with a woman. "I can't have her crying all over the office and begging for mercy," he protested, truculently. But a note of fear lay under the petulance. Demarest's answer was given with assurance, "You are mistaken about that. The girl doesn't beg for mercy. In fact, that's the whole point of the matter. She demands justice--strange as that may seem, in a court of law!--and nothing else. The truth is, she's a very unusual girl, a long way beyond the ordinary sales-girl, both in brains and in education." "The less reason, then, for her being a thief," Gilder grumbled in his heaviest voice. "And perhaps the less reason for believing her to be a thief," the lawyer retorted, suavely. He paused for a moment, then went on. There was a tone of sincere determination in his voice. "Just before the judge imposed sentence, he asked her if she had anything to say. You know, it's just a usual form--a thing that rarely means much of anything. But this case was different, let me tell you. She surprised us all by answering at once that she had. It's really a pity, Gilder, that you didn't wait. Why, that poor girl made a--damn--fine speech!" The lawyer's forensic aspirations showed in his honest appreciation of the effectiveness of such oratory from the heart as he had heard in the courtroom that day. "Pooh! pooh!" came the querulous objection. "She seems to have hypnotized you." Then, as a new thought came to the magnate, he spoke with a trace of anxiety. There were always the reporters, looking for space to fill with foolish vaporings. "Did she say anything against me, or the store?" "Not a word," the lawyer replied, gravely. His smile of appreciation was discreetly secret. "She merely told us how her father died when she was sixteen years old. She was compelled after that to earn her own living. Then she told how she had worked for you for five years steadily, without there ever being a single thing against her. She said, too, that she had never seen the things found in her locker. And she said more than that! She asked the judge if he himself understood what it means for a girl to be sentenced to prison for something she hadn't done. Somehow, Gilder, the way she talked had its effect on everybody in the courtroom. I know! It's my business to understand things like that. And what she said rang true. What she said, and the way she said it, take brains and courage. The ordinary crook has neither. So, I had a suspicion that she might be speaking the truth. You see, Gilder, it all rang true! And it's my business to know how things ring in that way." There was a little pause, while the lawyer moved back and forth nervously. Then, he added: "I believe Lawlor would have suspended sentence if it hadn't been for your talk with him." There were not wanting signs that Gilder was impressed. But the gentler fibers of the man were atrophied by the habits of a lifetime. What heart he had once possessed had been buried in the grave of his young wife, to be resurrected only for his son. In most things, he was consistently a hard man. Since he had no imagination, he could have no real sympathy. He whirled about in his swivel chair, and blew a cloud of smoke from his mouth. When he spoke, his voice was deeply resonant. "I simply did my duty," he said. "You are aware that I did not seek any consultation with Judge Lawlor. He sent for me, and asked me what I thought about the case--whether I thought it would be right to let the girl go on a suspended sentence. I told him frankly that I believed that an example should be made of her, for the sake of others who might be tempted to steal. Property has some rights, Demarest, although it seems to be getting nowadays so that anybody is likely to deny it." Then the fretful, half-alarmed note sounded in his voice again, as he continued: "I can't understand why the girl wants to see me." The lawyer smiled dryly, since he had his back turned at the moment. "Why," he vouchsafed, "she just said that, if you would see her for ten minutes, she would tell you how to stop the thefts in this store." Gilder displayed signs of triumph. He brought his chair to a level and pounded the desk with a weighty fist. "There!" he cried. "I knew it. The girl wants to confess. Well, it's the first sign of decent feeling she's shown. I suppose it ought to be encouraged. Probably there have been others mixed up in this." Demarest attempted no denial. "Perhaps," he admitted, though he spoke altogether without conviction. "But," he continued insinuatingly, "at least it can do no harm if you see her. I thought you would be willing, so I spoke to the District Attorney, and he has given orders to bring her here for a few minutes on the way to the Grand Central Station. They're taking her up to Burnsing, you know. I wish, Gilder, you would have a little talk with her. No harm in that!" With the saying, the lawyer abruptly went out of the office, leaving the owner of the store fuming. _ |
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