THE METROPOLIS

BY

UPTON SINCLAIR

FIRST PUBLISHED 1908

PRINTED BY OFFSET IN GREAT BRITAIN

CHAPTER I

"Return at ten-thirty, " the General said to his chauffeur, and thenthey entered the corridor of the hotel. 

Montague gazed about him, and found himself trembling just a littlewith anticipation. It was not the magnificence of the place. The quietuptown hotel would have seemed magnificent to him, fresh as he was fromthe country; but, he did not see the marble columns and the gildedcarvings-he was thinking of the men he was to meet. It seemed too muchto crowd into one day-first the vision of the whirling, seething city, the centre of all his hopes of the future; and then, at night, thismeeting, overwhelming him with the crowded memories of everything thathe held precious in the past. 

There were groups of men in faded uniforms standing about in thecorridors. General Prentice bowed here and there as they retired andtook the elevator to the reception-rooms. In the doorway they passed astout little man with stubby white moustaches, and the General stopped, exclaiming, "Hello, Major!" Then he added: "Let me introduce Mr. AllanMontague. Montague, this is Major Thorne. "

A look of sudden interest flashed across the Major's face. "GeneralMontague's son?" he cried. And then he seized the other's hand in bothof his, exclaiming, "My boy! my boy! I'm glad to see you!"

Now Montague was no boy--he was a man of thirty, and rather sedate inhis appearance and manner; there was enough in his six feet one to havemade two of the round and rubicund little Major. And yet it seemed tohim quite proper that the other should address him so. He was back inhis boyhood to-night--he was a boy whenever anyone mentioned the nameof Major Thorne. 

"Perhaps you have heard your father speak of me?" asked the Major, eagerly; and Montague answered, "A thousand times. "

He was tempted to add that the vision that rose before him was of astout gentleman hanging in a grape-vine, while a whole battery ofartillery made him their target. 

Perhaps it was irreverent, but that was what Montague had alwaysthought of, ever since he had first laughed over the tale his fathertold. It had happened one January afternoon in the Wilderness, duringthe terrible battle of Chancellorsville, when Montague's father hadbeen a rising young staff-officer, and it had fallen to his lot tocarry to Major Thorne what was surely the most terrifying order thatever a cavalry officer received. It was in the crisis of the conflict, when the Army of the Potomac was reeling before the onslaught ofStonewall Jackson's columns. There was no one to stop them-and yet theymust be stopped, for the whole right wing of the army was going. Sothat cavalry regiment had charged full tilt through the thickets, andinto a solid wall of infantry and artillery. The crash of their volleywas blinding--and horses wore fairly shot to fragments; and the Major'shorse, with its lower jaw torn off, had plunged madly away and left itsrider hanging in the aforementioned grape-vine. After he had kickedhimself loose, it was to find himself in an arena where pain-maddenedhorses and frenzied men raced about amid a rain of minie-balls andcanister. And in this inferno the gallant Major had captured a horse, and rallied the remains of his shattered command, and held the lineuntil help came-and then helped to hold it, all through the afternoonand the twilight and the night, against charge after charge. --And nowto stand and gaze at this stout and red-nosed little personage, andrealize that these mighty deeds had been his!

Then, even while Montague was returning his hand-clasp and telling himof his pleasure, the Major's eye caught some one across the room, andhe called eagerly, "Colonel Anderson! Colonel Anderson!"

And this was the heroic Jack Anderson! "Parson" Anderson, the men hadcalled him, because he always prayed before everything he did. Prayersat each mess, --a prayer-meeting in the evening, --and then rumour saidthe Colonel prayed on while his men slept. With his battery ofartillery trained to perfection under three years of divine guidance, the gallant Colonel had stood in the line of battle at ColdHarbour--name of frightful memory!--and when the enemy had swarmed outof their intrenchments and swept back the whole line just beyond him, his battery had stood like a cape in a storm-beaten ocean, attacked ontwo sides at once; and for the half-hour that elapsed before infantrysupport came up, the Colonel had ridden slowly up and down his line, repeating in calm and godly accents, "Give 'em hell, boys--give 'emhell!"--The Colonel's hand trembled now as he held it out, and hisvoice was shrill and cracked as he told what pleasure it gave him tomeet General Montague's son. 

"Why have we never seen you before?" asked Major Thorne. Montaguereplied that he had spent all his life in Mississippi--his fatherhaving married a Southern woman after the war. Once every year theGeneral had come to New York to attend the reunion of the Loyal Legionof the State; but some one had had to stay at home with his mother, Montague explained. 

There were perhaps a hundred men in the room, and he was passed aboutfrom group to group. Many of them had known his father intimately. Itseemed almost uncanny to him to meet them in the body; to find them oldand feeble, white-haired and wrinkled. As they lived in the chambers ofhis memory, they were in their mighty youth-heroes, transfigured andradiant, not subject to the power of time. 

Life on the big plantation had been a lonely one, especially for aSouthern-born man who had fought in the Union army. General Montaguehad been a person of quiet tastes, and his greatest pleasure had beento sit with his two boys on his knees and "fight his battles o'eragain. " He had collected all the literature of the corps which he hadcommanded--a whole library of it, in which Allan had learned to findhis way as soon as he could read. He had literally been brought up onthe war--for hours he would lie buried in some big illustrated history, until people came and called him away. He studied maps of campaigns andbattle-fields, until they became alive with human passion and struggle;he knew the Army of the Potomac by brigade and division, with the namesof commanders, and their faces, and their ways-until they lived andspoke, and the bare roll of their names had power to thrill him. --Andnow here were the men themselves, and all these scenes and memoriescrowding upon him in tumultuous throngs. No wonder that he was a littledazed, and could hardly find words to answer when he was spoken to. 

But then came an incident which called him suddenly back to the worldof the present. "There is Judge Ellis, " said the General. 

Judge Ellis! The fame of his wit and eloquence had reached even farMississippi--was there any remotest corner of America where men had notheard of the silver tongue of Judge Ellis? "Cultivate him!" Montague'sbrother Oliver had laughed, when it was mentioned that the Judge wouldbe present--"Cultivate him--he may be useful. "

It was not difficult to cultivate one who was as gracious as JudgeEllis. He stood in the doorway, a smooth, perfectly groomed gentleman, conspicuous in the uniformed assembly by his evening dress. The Judgewas stout and jovial, and cultivated Dundreary whiskers and a beamingsmile. "General Montague's son!" he exclaimed, as he pressed the youngman's hands. "Why, why--I'm surprised! Why have we never seen youbefore?"

Montague explained that he had only been in New York about six hours. "Oh, I see, " said the Judge. "And shall you remain long?"

"I have come to stay, " was the reply. 

"Well, well!" said the other, cordially. "Then we may see more of you. Are you going into business?"

"I am a lawyer, " said Montague. "I expect to practise. "

The Judge's quick glance had been taking the measure of the tall, handsome man before him, with his raven-black hair and grave features. "You must give us a chance to try your mettle, " he said; and then, asothers approached to meet him, and he was forced to pass on, he laid acaressing hand on Montague's arm, whispering, with a sly smile, "I meanit. "

Montague felt his heart beat a little faster. He had not welcomed hisbrother's suggestion--there was nothing of the sycophant in him; but hemeant to work and to succeed, and he knew what the favour of a man likeJudge Ellis would mean to him. For the Judge was the idol of New York'sbusiness and political aristocracy, and the doorways of fortune yieldedat his touch. 

There were rows of chairs in one of the rooms, and here two or threehundred men were gathered. There were stands of battle-flags in thecorners, each one of them a scroll of tragic history, to one likeMontague, who understood. His eye roamed over them while the secretarywas reading minutes of meetings and other routine announcements. Thenhe began to study the assemblage. There were men with one arm and menwith one leg--one tottering old soldier ninety years of age, stoneblind, and led about by his friends. The Loyal Legion was an officers'organization, and to that extent aristocratic; but worldly successcounted for nothing in it--some of its members were struggling to existon their pensions, and were as much thought of as a man like GeneralPrentice, who was president of one of the city's largest banks, and arich man, even in New York's understanding of that term. 

The presiding officer introduced "Colonel Robert Selden, who will readthe paper of the evening: 'Recollections of Spottsylvania. '" Montaguestarted at the name--for "Bob" Selden had been one of his father'smessmates, and had fought all through the Peninsula Campaign at hisside. 

He was a tall, hawk-faced man with a grey imperial. The room was stillas he arose, and after adjusting his glasses, he began to read hisstory. He recalled the situation of the Army of the Potomac in thespring of 1864; for three years it had marched and fought, stumblingthrough defeat after defeat, a mighty weapon, lacking only a man whocould wield it. Now at last the man had come--one who would put theminto the battle and give them a chance to fight. So they had marchedinto the Wilderness, and there Lee struck them, and for three days theygroped in a blind thicket, fighting hand to hand, amid suffocatingsmoke. The Colonel read in a quiet, unassuming voice; but one could seethat he had hold of his hearers by the light that crossed theirfeatures when he told of the army's recoil from the shock, and of thewild joy that ran through the ranks when they took up their march tothe left, and realized that this time they were not going back. --Sothey came to the twelve days' grapple of the Spottsylvania Campaign. 

There was still the Wilderness thicket; the enemy's intrenchments, covering about eight miles, lay in the shape of a dome, and at thecupola of it were breastworks of heavy timbers banked with earth, andwith a ditch and a tangle of trees in front. The place was the keystoneof the Confederate arch, and the name of it was "the Angle"--"BloodyAngle!" Montague heard the man who sat next to him draw in his breath, as if a spasm of pain had shot through him. 

At dawn two brigades had charged and captured the place. The enemyreturned to the attack, and for twenty hours thereafter the two armiesfought, hurling regiment after regiment and brigade after brigade intothe trenches. There was a pouring rain, and the smoke hung black aboutthem; they could only see the flashes of the guns, and the faces of theenemy, here and there. 

The Colonel described the approach of his regiment. They lay down for amoment in a swamp, and the minie-balls sang like swarming bees, andsplit the blades of the grass above them. Then they charged, overground that ran with human blood. In the trenches the bodies of deadand dying men lay three deep, and were trampled out of sight in the mudby the feet of those who fought. They would crouch behind the works, lifting their guns high over their heads, and firing into the throngson the other side; again and again men sprang upon the breastworks andfired their muskets, and then fell dead. They dragged up cannon, oneafter another, and blew holes through the logs, and raked the' groundwith charges of canister. 

While the Colonel read, still in his calm, matter-of-fact voice, youmight see men leaning forward in their chairs, hands clenched, teethset. They knew! They knew! Had there ever before been a time in historywhen breastworks had been charged by artillery? Twenty-four men in thecrew of one gun, and only two unhurt! One iron sponge-bucket withthirty-nine bullet holes shot through it! And then blasts of canistersweeping the trenches, and blowing scores of living and dead men tofragments! And into this hell of slaughter new regiments charging, inlines four deep! And squad after squad of the enemy striving tosurrender, and shot to pieces by their own comrades as they clamberedover the blood-soaked walls! And heavy timbers in the defences shot tosplinters! Huge oak trees--one of them twenty-four inches indiameter--crashing down upon the combatants, gnawed through byrifle-bullets! Since the world began had men ever fought like that?

Then the Colonel told of his own wound in the shoulder, and how, towarddusk, he had crawled away; and how he became lost, and strayed into theenemy's line, and was thrust into a batch of prisoners and marched tothe rear. And then of the night that he spent beside a hospital camp inthe Wilderness, where hundreds of wounded and dying men lay about onthe rain-soaked ground, moaning, screaming, praying to be killed. Againthe prisoners were moved, having been ordered to march to the railroad;and on the way the Colonel went blind from suffering and exhaustion, and staggered and fell in the road. You could have heard a pin drop inthe room, in the pause between sentences in his story, as he told howthe guard argued with him to persuade him to go on. It was their dutyto kill him if he refused, but they could not bring themselves to doit. In the end they left the job to one, and he stood and cursed theofficer, trying to get up his courage; and finally fired his gun intothe air, and went off and left him. 

Then he told how an old negro had found him, and how he lay delirious;and how, at last, the army marched his way. He ended his narrative thesimple sentence: "It was not until the siege of Petersburg that I wasable to rejoin my Command. "

There was a murmur of applause; and then silence. Suddenly, fromsomewhere in the room, came the sound of singing--"Mine eyes have seenthe glory of the coming of the Lord!" The old battle-hymn seemed tostrike the very mood of the meeting; the whole throng took it up, andthey sang it, stanza by stanza. It was rolling forth like a mightyorgan-chant as they came to the fervid closing:--

"He hath sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat; He issifting out the hearts of men before his judgment seat; Oh! be swift, my soul, to answer Him; be jubilant, my feet, --Our God is marching on!"

There was a pause again; and the presiding officer rose and said that, owing to the presence of a distinguished guest, they would forego oneof their rules, and invite Judge Ellis to say a few words. The Judgecame forward, and bowed his acknowledgment of their welcome. Then, perhaps feeling a need of relief after the sombre recital, the Judgetook occasion to apologize for his own temerity in addressing a roomfulof warriors; and somehow he managed to make that remind him of a storyof an army mule, a very amusing story; and that reminded him of anotherstory, until, when he stopped and sat down, every one in the room brokeinto delighted applause. 

They went in to dinner. Montague sat by General Prentice, and he, inturn, by the Judge; the latter was reminded of more stories during thedinner, and kept every one near him laughing. Finally Montague wasmoved to tell a story himself--about an old negro down home, who passedhimself off for an Indian. The Judge was so good as to consider this animmensely funny story, and asked permission to tell it himself. Severaltimes after that he leaned over and spoke to Montague, who felt aslight twinge of guilt as he recalled his brother's cynical advice, "Cultivate him!" The Judge was so willing to be cultivated, however, that it gave one's conscience little chance. 

They went back to the meeting-room again; chairs were shifted, andlittle groups formed, and cigars and pipes brought out. They moved theprecious battle-flags forward, and some one produced a bugle and acouple of drums; then the walls of the place shook, as the wholecompany burst forth:--

"Bring the good old bugle, boys! we'll sing another song--Sing it witha spirit that will start the world along--Sing it as we used to singit, fifty thousand strong, --While we were marching through Georgia!"

It was wonderful to witness the fervour with which they went throughthis rollicking chant--whose spirit we miss because we hear it toooften. They were not skilled musicians--they could only sing loud; butthe fire leaped into their eyes, and they swayed with the rhythm, andsang! Montague found himself watching the old blind soldier, who satbeating his foot in time, upon his face the look of one who seesvisions. 

And then he noticed another man, a little, red-faced Irishman, one ofthe drummers. The very spirit of the drum seemed to have entered intohim--into his hands and his feet, his eyes and his head, and his roundlittle body. He played a long roll between the verses, and it seemed asif he must surely be swept away upon the wings of it. CatchingMontague's eye, he nodded and smiled; and after that, every once in awhile their eyes would meet and exchange a greeting. They sang "TheLoyal Legioner" and "The Army Bean" and "John Brown's Body" and "Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching"; all the while the drum rattledand thundered, and the little drummer laughed and sang, the veryincarnation of the care-free spirit of the soldier!

They stopped for a while, and the little man came over and wasintroduced. Lieutenant O'Day was his name; and after he had left, General Prentice leaned over to Montague and told him a story. "Thatlittle man, " he said, "began as a drummer-boy in my regiment, and wentall through the war in my brigade; and two years ago I met him on thestreet one cold winter night, as thin as I am, and shivering in asummer overcoat. I took him to dinner with me and watched him eat, andI made up my mind there was something wrong. I made him take me home, and do you know, the man was starving! He had a little tobacco shop, and he'd got into trouble--the trust had taken away his trade. And hehad a sick wife, and a daughter clerking at six dollars a week!"

The General went on to tell of his struggle to induce the little man toaccept his aid--to accept a loan of a few hundreds of dollars fromPrentice, the banker! "I never had anything hurt me so in all my life, "he said. "Finally I took him into the bank--and now you can see he hasenough to eat!"

They began to sing again, and Montague sat and thought over the story. It seemed to him typical of the thing that made this meeting beautifulto him--of the spirit of brotherhood and service that reignedhere. --They sang "We are tenting to-night on the old camp ground"; theysang "Benny Havens, Oh!" and "A Soldier No More"; they sang other songsof tenderness and sorrow, and men felt a trembling in their voices anda mist stealing over their eyes. Upon Montague a spell was falling. 

Over these men and their story there hung a mystery--a presence ofwonder, that discloses itself but rarely to mortals, and only to thosewho have dreamed and dared. They had not found it easy to do theirduty; they had had their wives and children, their homes and friendsand familiar places; and all these they had left to serve the Republic. They had taught themselves a new way of life--they had forgedthemselves into an iron sword of war. They had marched and fought indust and heat, in pouring rains and driving, icy blasts; they hadbecome men grim and terrible in spirit-men with limbs of steel, whocould march or ride for days and nights, who could lie down and sleepupon the ground in rain-storms and winter snows, who were ready to leapat a word and seize their muskets and rush into the cannon's mouth. They had learned to stare into the face of death, to meet its fieryeyes; to march and eat and sleep, to laugh and play and sing, in itspresence--to carry their life in their hands, and toss it about as ajuggler tosses a ball. And this for Freedom: for the star-crownedgoddess with the flaming eyes, who trod upon the mountain-tops andcalled to them in the shock and fury of the battle; whose trailingrobes they followed through the dust and cannon-smoke; for a glimpse ofwhose shining face they had kept the long night vigils and charged uponthe guns in the morning; for a touch of whose shimmering robe they hadwasted in prison pens, where famine and loathsome pestilence and ravingmadness stalked about in the broad daylight. 

And now this army of deliverance, with its waving banners and itsprancing horses and its rumbling cannon, had marched into theshadow-world. The very ground that it had trod was sacred; and one whofingered the dusty volumes which held the record of its deeds wouldfeel a strange awe come upon him, and thrill with a sudden fear oflife--that was so fleeting and so little to be understood. There wereboyhood memories in Montague's mind, of hours of consecration, when thevision had descended upon him, and he had sat with face hidden in hishands. 

It was for the Republic that these men had suffered; for him and hischildren--that a government of the people, by the people, for thepeople, might not perish from the earth. And with the organ-music ofthe Gettysburg Address echoing within him, the boy laid his soul uponthe altar of his country. They had done so much for him--and now, wasthere anything that he could do? A dozen years had passed since then, and still he knew that deep within him--deeper than all other purposes, than all thoughts of wealth and fame and power--was the purpose thatthe men who had died for the Republic should find him worthy of theirtrust. 

The singing had stopped, and Judge Ellis was standing before him. TheJudge was about to go, and in his caressing voice he said that he wouldhope to see Montague again. Then, seeing that General Prentice was alsostanding up, Montague threw off the spell that had gripped him, andshook hands with the little drummer, and with Selden and Anderson andall the others of his dream people. A few minutes later he foundhimself outside the hotel, drinking deep draughts of the cold Novemberair. 

Major Thorne had come out with them; and learning that the General'sroute lay uptown, he offered to walk with Montague to his hotel. 

They set out, and then Montague told the Major about the figure in thegrape-vine, and the Major laughed and told how it had felt. There hadbeen more adventures, it seemed; while he was hunting a horse he hadcome upon two mules loaded with ammunition and entangled with theirharness about a tree; he had rushed up to seize them--when a solid shothad struck the tree and exploded the ammunition and blown the mules tofragments. And then there was the story of the charge late in thenight, which had recovered the lost ground, and kept Stonewall Jacksonbusy up to the very hour of his tragic death. And there was the storyof Andersonville, and the escape from prison. Montague could havewalked the streets all night, exchanging these war-time reminiscenceswith the Major. 

Absorbed in their talk, they came to an avenue given up to the poorerclass of people; with elevated trains rattling by overhead, and rows oflittle shops along it. Montague noticed a dense crowd on one of thecorners, and asked what it meant. 

"Some sort of a meeting, " said the Major. 

They came nearer, and saw a torch, with a man standing near it, abovethe heads of the crowd. 

"It looks like a political meeting, " said Montague, "but it can't be, now--just after election. "

"Probably it's a Socialist, " said the Major. "They're at it all thetime. "

They crossed the avenue, and then they could see plainly. The man waslean and hungry-looking, and he had long arms, which he waved withprodigious violence. He was in a frenzy of excitement, pacing this wayand that, and leaning over the throng packed about him. Because of apassing train the two could not hear a sound. 

"A Socialist!" exclaimed Montague, wonderingly. "What do they want?"

"I'm not sure, " said the other. "They want to overthrow the government. "

The train passed, and then the man's words came to them: "They forceyou to build palaces, and then they put you into tenements! They forceyou to spin fine raiment, and then they dress you in rags! They forceyou to build jails, and then they lock you up in them! They force youto make guns, and then they shoot you with them! They own the politicalparties, and they name the candidates, and trick you into voting forthem--and they call it the law! They herd you into armies and send youto shoot your brothers--and they call it order! They take a piece ofcoloured rag and call it the flag and teach you to let yourself beshot--and they call it patriotism! First, last, and all the time, youdo the work and they get the benefit--they, the masters and owners, andyou--fools--fools--fools!"

The man's voice had mounted to a scream, and he flung his hands intothe air and broke into jeering laughter. Then came another train, andMontague could not hear him; but he could see that he was rushing on inthe torrent of his denunciation. 

Montague stood rooted to the spot; he was shocked to the depths of hisbeing--he could scarcely contain himself as he stood there. He longedto spring forward to beard the man where he stood, to shout him down, to rebuke him before the crowd. 

The Major must have seen his agitation, for he took his arm and led himback from the throng, saying: "Come! We can't help it. "

"But--but--, " he protested, "the police ought to arrest him. "

"They do sometimes, " said the Major, "but it doesn't do any good. "

They walked on, and the sounds of the shrill voice died away. "Tellme, " said Montague, in a low voice, "does that go on very often?"

"Around the corner from where I live, " said the other, "it goes onevery Saturday night. "

"And do the people listen?" he asked. 

"Sometimes they can't keep the street clear, " was the reply. 

And again they walked in silence. At last Montague asked, "What does itmean?"

The Major shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps another civil war, " said he. 

CHAPTER II

Allan Montague's father had died about five years before. A couple ofyears later his younger brother, Oliver, had announced his intention ofseeking a career in New York. He had no profession, and no definiteplans; but his father's friends were men of influence and wealth, andthe doors were open to him. So he had turned his share of the estateinto cash and departed. 

Oliver was a gay and pleasure-loving boy, with all the material of aprodigal son in him; his brother had more than half expected to see himcome back in a year or two with empty pockets. But New York had seemedto agree with Oliver. He never told what he was doing--what he wrotewas simply that he was managing to keep the wolf from the door. But hisletters hinted at expensive ways of life; and at Christmas time, and atCousin Alice's birthday, he would send home presents which made thefamily stare. 

Montague had always thought of himself as a country lawyer and planter. But two months ago a fire had swept away the family mansion, and thenon top of that had come an offer for the land; and with Olivertelegraphing several times a day in his eagerness, they had taken thesudden resolution to settle up their affairs and move to New York. 

There were Montague and his mother, and Cousin Alice, who was nineteen, and old "Mammy Lucy, " Mrs. Montague's servant. Oliver had met them atJersey City, radiant with happiness. He looked just as much of a boy asever, and just as beautiful; excepting that he was a little paler, NewYork had not changed him at all. There was a man in uniform from thehotel to take charge of their baggage, and a big red touring-car forthem; and now they were snugly settled in their apartments, with theyounger brother on duty as counsellor and guide. 

Montague had come to begin life all over again. He had brought hismoney, and he expected to invest it, and to live upon the income untilhe had begun to earn something. He had worked hard at his profession, and he meant to work in New York, and to win his way in the end. Heknew almost nothing about the city--he faced it with the wide-open eyesof a child. 

One began to learn quickly, he found. It was like being swept into amaelstrom: first the hurrying throngs on the ferry-boat, and then thecabmen and the newsboys shouting, and the cars with clanging gongs;then the swift motor, gliding between trucks and carriages and aroundcorners where big policemen shepherded the scurrying populace; and thenFifth Avenue, with its rows of shops and towering hotels; and at last asudden swing round a corner--and their home. 

"I have picked a quiet family place for you, " Oliver had said, and thathad greatly pleased his brother. But he had stared in dismay when heentered this latest "apartment hotel"--which catered for two or threehundred of the most exclusive of the city's aristocracy--and noted itsgreat arcade, with massive doors of bronze, and its entrance-hall, trimmed with Caen stone and Italian marble, and roofed with a vaultedceiling painted by modern masters. Men in livery bore their wraps andbowed the way before them; a great bronze elevator shot them to theproper floor; and they went to their rooms down a corridor walled withblood-red marble and paved with carpet soft as a cushion. Here were sixrooms of palatial size, with carpets, drapery, and furniture of asplendour quite appalling to Montague. 

As soon as the man who bore their wraps had left the room, he turnedupon his brother. 

"Oliver, " he said, "how much are we paying for all this?"

Oliver smiled. "You are not paying anything, old man, " he replied. "You're to be my guests for a month or two, until you get yourbearings. "

"That's very good of you, " said the other; "--we'll talk about itlater. But meantime, tell me what the apartment costs. "

And then Montague encountered his first full charge of New Yorkdynamite. "Six hundred dollars a week, " said Oliver. 

He started as if his brother had struck him. "Six hundred dollars aweek!" he gasped. 

"Yes, " said the other, quietly. 

It was fully a minute before he could find his breath. "Brother, " heexclaimed, "you're mad!"

"It is a very good bargain, " smiled the other; "I have some influencewith them. "

Again there was a pause, while Montague groped for words. "Oliver, " heexclaimed, "I can't believe you! How could you think that we could paysuch a price?"

"I didn't think it, " said Oliver; "I told you I expected to pay itmyself. "

"But how could we let you pay it for us?" cried the other. "Can youfancy that _I_ will ever earn enough to pay such a price?"

"Of course you will, " said Oliver. "Don't be foolish, Allan--you'llfind it's easy enough to make money in New York. Leave it to me, andwait awhile. "

But the other was not to be put off. He sat down on the embroideredsilk bedspread, and demanded abruptly, "What do you expect my income tobe a year?"

"I'm sure I don't know, " laughed Oliver; "nobody takes the time to addup his income. You'll make what you need, and something over for goodmeasure. This one thing you'll know for certain--the more you spend, the more you'll be able to make. "

And then, seeing that the sober look was not to be expelled from hisbrother's face, Oliver seated himself and crossed his legs, andproceeded to set forth the paradoxical philosophy of extravagance. Hisbrother had come into a city of millionaires. There was a certain groupof people--"the right set, " was Oliver's term for them--and among themhe would find that money was as free as air. So far as his career wasconcerned, he would find that there was nothing in all New York socostly as economy. If he did not live like a gentleman, he would findhimself excluded from the circle of the elect--and how he would manageto exist then was a problem too difficult for his brother to face. 

And so, as quickly as he could, he was to bring himself to a state ofmind where things did not surprise him; where he did what others didand paid what others paid, and did it serenely, as if he had done itall his life. He would soon find his place; meantime all he had to dowas to put himself into his brother's charge. "You'll find in time thatI have the strings in my hands, " the latter added. "Just take lifeeasy, and let me introduce you to the right people. "

All of which sounded very attractive. "But are you sure, " askedMontague, "that you understand what I'm here for? I don't want to getinto the Four Hundred, you know--I want to practise law. "

"In the first place, " replied Oliver, "don't talk about the FourHundred--it's vulgar and silly; there's no such thing. In the nextplace, you're going to live in New York, and you want to know the rightpeople. If you know them, you can practise law, or practise billiards, or practise anything else that you fancy. If you don't know them, youmight as well go practise in Dahomey, for all you can accomplish. Youmight come on here and start in for yourself, and in twenty years youwouldn't get as far as you can get in two weeks, if you'll let meattend to it. "

Montague was nearly five years his brother's senior, and at home hadtaken a semi-paternal attitude toward him. Now, however, the situationseemed to have reversed itself. With a slight smile of amusement, hesubsided, and proceeded to put himself into the attitude of a docilestudent of the mysteries of the Metropolis. 

They agreed that they would say nothing about these matters to theothers. Mrs. Montague was half blind, and would lead her placid, indoorexistence with old Mammy Lucy. As for Alice, she was a woman, and wouldnot trouble herself with economics; if fairy godmothers chose to showergifts upon her, she would take them. 

Alice was built to live in a palace, anyway, Oliver said. He had criedout with delight when he first saw her. She had been sixteen when heleft, and tall and thin; now she was nineteen, and with the pale tintsof the dawn in her hair and face. In the auto, Oliver had turned and, stared at her, and pronounced the cryptic judgment, "You'll go!"

Just now she was wandering about the rooms, exclaiming with wonder. Everything here was so quiet and so harmonious that at first one'ssuspicions were lulled. It was simplicity, but of a strange andperplexing kind--simplicity elaborately studied. It was luxury, butgrown assured of itself, and gazing down upon itself with aristocraticdisdain. And after a while this began to penetrate the vulgarest mind, and to fill it with awe; one cannot remain long in an apartment whichis trimmed and furnished in rarest Circassian walnut, and "papered"with hand-embroidered silk cloth, without feeling some excitement--eventhough there be no one to mention that the furniture has cost eightthousand dollars per room, and that the wall covering has been importedfrom Paris at a cost of seventy dollars per yard. 

Montague also betook himself to gazing about. He noted the great doublewindows, with sashes of bronze; the bronze fire-proof doors; the bronzeelectric candles and chandeliers, from which the room was flooded witha soft radiance at the touch of a button; the "duchesse" and "marquise"chairs, with upholstery matching the walls; the huge leather"slumber-couch, " with adjustable lamp at its head. When one opened thedoor of the dressing-room closet, it was automatically filled withlight; there was an adjustable three-sided mirror, at which one couldstudy his own figure from every side. There was a little bronze boxnear the bed, in which one might set his shoes, and with a locked dooropening out into the hall, so that the floor-porter could get themwithout disturbing one. Each of the bath-rooms was the size of anordinary man's parlour, with floor and walls of snow-white marble, anda door composed of an imported plate-glass mirror. There was a greatporcelain tub, with glass handles upon the wall by which you could helpyourself out of it, and a shower-bath with linen duck curtains, whichwere changed every day; and a marble slab upon which you might lie tobe rubbed by the masseur who would come at the touch of a button. 

There was no end to the miracles of this establishment, as Montaguefound in the course of time. There was no chance that the antiquebronze clock on the mantel might go wrong, for it was electricallycontrolled from the office. You did not open the window and let in thedust, for the room was automatically ventilated, and you turned aswitch marked "hot" and "cold. " The office would furnish you a guidewho would show you the establishment; and you might see your breadbeing kneaded by electricity, upon an opal glass table, and your eggsbeing tested by electric light; you might peer into huge refrigerators, ventilated by electric fans, and in which each tiny lamb chop reposedin a separate holder. Upon your own floor was a pantry, provided withhot and cold storage-rooms and an air-tight dumb-waiter; you might haveyour own private linen and crockery and plate, and your own familybutler, if you wished. Your children, however, would not be permittedin the building, even though you were dying--this was a smallconcession which you made to a host who had invested a million dollarsand a half in furniture alone. 

A few minutes later the telephone bell rang, and Oliver answered it andsaid, "Send him up. "

"Here's the tailor, " he remarked, as he hung up the receiver. 

"Whose tailor?" asked his brother. 

"Yours, " said he. 

"Do I have to have some new clothes?" Montague asked. 

"You haven't any clothes at present, " was the reply. 

Montague was standing in front of the "costumer, " as the elaboratemirror was termed. He looked himself over, and then he looked at hisbrother. Oliver's clothing was a little like the Circassian walnut; atfirst you thought that it was simple, and even a trifle careless--itwas only by degrees you realized that it was original anddistinguished, and very expensive. 

"Won't your New York friends make allowance for the fact that I amfresh from the country?" asked Montague, quizzically. 

"They might, " was the reply. "I know a hundred who would lend me money, if I asked them. But I don't ask them. "

"Then how soon shall I be able to appear?" asked Montague, with visionsof himself locked up in the room for a week or two. 

"You are to have three suits to-morrow morning, " said Oliver. "Genethas promised. "

"Suits made to order?" gasped the other, in perplexity. 

"He never heard of any other sort of suits, " said Oliver, with graverebuke in his voice. 

M. Genet had the presence of a Russian grand duke, and the manner of acourt chamberlain. He brought a subordinate to take Montague's measure, while he himself studied his colour-scheme. Montague gathered from theconversation that he was going to a house-party in the country the nextmorning, and that he would need a dress-suit, a hunting-suit, and a"morning coat. " The rest might wait until his return. The two discussedhim and his various "points" as they might have discussed a horse; hepossessed distinction, he learned, and a great deal could be done withhim--with a little skill he might be made into a personality. HisFrench was not in training, but he managed to make out that it was M. Genet's opinion that the husbands of New York would tremble when hemade his appearance among them. 

When the tailor had left, Alice came in, with her face shining from acold bathing. "Here you are decking yourselves out!" she cried. "Andwhat about me?"

"Your problem is harder, " said Oliver, with a laugh; "but you beginthis afternoon. Reggie Mann is going to take you with him, and get yousome dresses. "

"What!" gasped Alice. "Get me some dresses! A man?"

"Of course, " said the other. "Reggie Mann advises half the women in NewYork about their clothes. "

"Who is he? A tailor?" asked the girl. 

Oliver was sitting on the edge of the canapé, swinging one leg over theother; and he stopped abruptly and stared, and then sank back, laughingsoftly to himself. "Oh, dear me!" he said. "Poor Reggie!"

Then, realizing that he would have to begin at the beginning, heproceeded to explain that Reggie Mann was a cotillion leader, the idolof the feminine side of society. He was the special pet and protege ofthe great Mrs. De Graffenried, of whom they had surely heard--Mrs. DeGraffenried, who was acknowledged to be the mistress of society atNewport, and was destined some day to be mistress in New York. Reggieand Oliver were "thick, " and he had stayed in town on purpose to attendto her attiring--having seen her picture, and vowed that he would makea work of art out of her. And then Mrs. Robbie Walling would give her adance; and all the world would come to fall at her feet. 

"You and I are going out to 'Black Forest, ' the Wallings'shooting-lodge, to-morrow, " Oliver added to his brother. "You'll meetMrs. Robbie there. You've heard of the Wallings, I hope. "

"Yes, " said Montague, "I'm not that ignorant. "

"All right, " said the other, "we're to motor down. I'm going to takeyou in my racing-car, so you'll have an experience. We'll start early. "

"I'll be ready, " said Montague; and when his brother replied that hewould be at the door at eleven, he made another amused note as to thehabits of New Yorkers. 

The price which he paid at the hotel included the services of a valetor a maid for each of them, and so when their baggage arrived they hadnothing to do. They went to lunch in one of the main dining-rooms ofthe hotel, a room with towering columns of dark-green marble and a mazeof palms and flowers. Oliver did the ordering; his brother noticed thatthe simple meal cost them about fifteen dollars, and he wondered ifthey were to eat at that rate all the time. 

Then Montague mentioned the fact that before leaving home he hadreceived a telegram from General Prentice, asking him to go with himthat evening to the meeting of the Loyal Legion. Montague wondered, half amused, if his brother would deem his old clothing fit for such afunction. But Oliver replied that it would not matter what he worethere; he would not meet anyone who counted, except Prentice himself. The General and his family were prominent in society, it appeared, andwere to be cultivated. But Oliver shrewdly forbore to elaborate uponthis, knowing that his brother would be certain to talk about oldtimes, which would be the surest possible method of lodging himself inthe good graces of General Prentice. 

After luncheon came Reggie Mann, dapper and exquisite, with slenderlittle figure and mincing gait, and the delicate hands and soft voiceof a woman. He was dressed for the afternoon parade, and wore awonderful scarlet orchid in his buttonhole. Montague's hand he shook athis shoulder's height; but when Alice came in he did not shake handswith her. Instead, he stood and gazed, and gazed again, and lifting hishands a little with excess of emotion, exclaimed, "Oh, perfect!perfect!"

"And Ollie, I told you so!" he added, eagerly. "She it tall enough towear satin! She shall have the pale blue Empire gown--she shall havethe pale blue Empire gown if I have to pay for it myself! And oh, whattimes we shall have with that hair! And the figure--Reval will simplygo wild!"

So Reggie prattled on, with his airy grace; he took her hand andstudied it, and then turned her about to survey her figure, while Aliceblushed and strove to laugh to hide her embarrassment. "My dear MissMontague, " he exclaimed, "I bring all Gotham and lay it at your feet!Ollie, your battle is won! Won without firing a shot! I know the veryman for her--his father is dying, and he will have four millions inTranscontinental alone. And he is as handsome as Antinous and asfascinating as Don Juan! Allons! we may as well begin with thetrousseau this afternoon!"

CHAPTER III

Oliver was not rooming with them; he had his own quarters at the club, which he did not wish to leave. But the next morning, about twentyminutes after the hour he had named, he was at the door, and Montaguewent down. 

Oliver's car was an imported French racer. It had only two seats, openin front, with a rumble behind for the mechanic. It was long and lowand rakish, a most wicked-looking object; whenever it stopped on thestreet a crowd gathered to stare at it. Oliver was clad in a blackbearskin coat, covering his feet, and with cap and gloves to match; hewore goggles, pushed up over his forehead. A similar costume lay readyin his brother's seat. 

The suits of clothing had come, and were borne in his grips by hisvalet. "We can't carry them with us, " said Oliver. "He'll have to takethem down by train. " And while his brother was buttoning up the coat, he gave the address; then Montague clambered in, and after a quickglance over his shoulder, Oliver pressed a lever and threw over thesteering-wheel, and they whirled about and sped down the street. 

Sometimes, at home in Mississippi, one would meet automobiling parties, generally to the damage of one's harness and temper. But until the daybefore, when he had stepped off the ferry, Montague had never ridden ina motor-car. Riding in this one was like travelling in a dream--it slidalong without a sound, or the slightest trace of vibration; it shotforward, it darted to right or to left, it slowed up, it stopped, as ifof its own will--the driver seemed to do nothing. Such things as cartracks had no effect upon it at all, and serious defects in thepavement caused only the faintest swelling motion; it was only when itleaped ahead like a living thing that one felt the power of it, by thepressure upon his back. 

They went at what seemed to Montague a breakneck pace through the citystreets, dodging among trucks and carriages, grazing cars, whirlinground corners, taking the wildest of chances. Oliver seemed always toknow what the other fellow would do; but the thought that he might dosomething different kept his companion's heart pounding in a painfulway. Once the latter cried out as a man leapt for his life; Oliverlaughed, and said, without turning his head, "You'll get used to it byand by. "

They went down Fourth Avenue and turned into the Bowery. Elevatedtrains pounded overhead, and a maze of gin-shops, dime-museums, cheaplodging-houses, and clothing-stores sped past them. Once or twiceOliver's hawk-like glance detected a blue uniform ahead, and then theyslowed down to a decorous pace, and the other got a chance to observethe miserable population of the neighbourhood. It was a cold Novemberday, and an "out of work" time, and wretched outcast men walked withshoulders drawn forward and hands in their pockets. 

"Where in the world are we going?" Montague asked. 

"To Long Island, " said the other. "It's a beastly ride--this part ofit--but it's the only way. Some day we'll have an overhead speedway ofour own, and we won't have to drive through this mess. "

They turned off at the approach to the Williamsburg Bridge, and foundthe street closed for repairs. They had to make a detour of a block, and they turned with a vicious sweep and plunged into the very heart ofthe tenement district. Narrow, filthy streets, with huge, canon-likeblocks of buildings, covered with rusty iron fire-escapes and decoratedwith soap-boxes and pails and laundry and babies; narrow stoops, crowded with playing children; grocery-shops, clothing-shops, saloons;and a maze of placards and signs in English and German and Yiddish. Through the throngs Oliver drove, his brows knitted with impatience andhis horn honking angrily. "Take it easy, "--protested Montague; but theother answered, "Bah!" Children screamed and darted out of the way, andmen and women started back, scowling and muttering; when a blockade ofwagons and push-carts forced them to stop, the children gathered aboutand jeered, and a group of hoodlums loafing by a saloon flung ribaldryat them; but Oliver never turned his eyes from the road ahead. 

And at last they were out on the bridge. "Slow vehicles keep to theright, " ran the sign, and so there was a lane for them to the left. They sped up the slope, the cold air beating upon them like ahurricane. Far below lay the river, with tugs and ferry-boats ploughingthe wind-beaten grey water, and a city spread out on either bank--awilderness of roofs, with chimneys sticking up and white jets of steamspouting everywhere. Then they sped down the farther slope, and intoBrooklyn. 

There was an asphalted avenue, lined with little residences. There wasblock upon block of them, mile after mile of them--Montague had never, seen so many houses in his life before, and nearly all poured out ofthe same mould. 

Many other automobiles were speeding out by this avenue, and they racedwith one another. The one which was passed the most frequently got thedust and smell; and so the universal rule was that when you were behindyou watched for a clear track, and then put on speed, and went to thefront; but then just when you had struck a comfortable pace, there wasa whirring and a puffing at your left, and your rival came stealingpast you. If you were ugly, you put on speed yourself, and forced himto fall back, or to run the risk of trouble with vehicles coming theother way. For Oliver there seemed to be but one rule, --pass everything. 

They came to the great Ocean Driveway. Here were many automobiles, nearly all going one way, and nearly all racing. There were two whichstuck to Oliver and would not be left behind--one, two, three--one, two, three--they passed and repassed. Their dust was blinding, and thecontinual odour was sickening; and so Oliver set his lips tight, andthe little dial on the indicator began to creep ahead, and they whirledaway down the drive. "Catch us this time!" he muttered. 

A few seconds later Oliver gave a sudden exclamation, as a policeman, concealed behind a bush at the roadside, sprang out and hailed them. The policeman had a motor-cycle, and Oliver shouted to the mechanic, "Pull the cord!" His brother turned, alarmed and perplexed, and saw theman reach down to the floor of the car. He saw the policeman leap uponthe cycle and start to follow. Then he lost sight of him in the cloudsof dust. 

For perhaps five minutes they tore on, tense and silent, at a pace thatMontague had never equalled in an express train. Vehicles coming theother way would leap into sight, charging straight at them, it seemed, and shooting past a hand's breadth away. Montague had just about madeup his mind that one such ride would last him for a lifetime, when henoticed that they were slacking up. "You can let go the cord, " saidOliver. "He'll never catch us now. "

"What is the cord?" asked the other. 

"It's tied to the tag with our number on, in back. It swings it up soit can't be seen. "

They were turning off into a country road, and Montague sank back andlaughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. "Is that a common trick?"he asked. 

"Quite, " said the other. "Mrs. Robbie has a trough of mud in theirgarage, and her driver sprinkles the tag every time before she goesout. You have to do something, you know, or you'd be taken up all thetime. "

"Have you ever been arrested?"

"I've only been in court once, " said Oliver. "I've been stopped a dozentimes. "

"What did they do the other times--warn you?"

"Warn me?" laughed Oliver. "What they did was to get in with me andride a block or two, out of sight of the crowd; and then I slipped thema ten-dollar bill and they got out. "

To which Montague responded, "Oh, I see!"

They turned into a broad macadamized road, and here were more autos, and more dust, and more racing. Now and then they crossed a trolley ora railroad track, and here was always a warning sign; but Oliver musthave had some occult way of knowing that the track was clear, for henever seemed to slow up. Now and then they came to villages, and didreduce speed; but from the pace at which they went through, thevillagers could not have suspected it. 

And then came another adventure. The road was in repair, and was verybad, and they were picking their way, when suddenly a young man who hadbeen walking on a side path stepped out before them, and drew a redhandkerchief from his pocket, and faced them, waving it. Olivermuttered an oath. 

"What's the matter?" cried his brother. 

"We're arrested!" he exclaimed. 

"What!" gasped the other. "Why, we were not going at all. "

"I know, " said Oliver; "but they've got us all the same. "

He must have made up his mind at one glance that the case was hopeless, for he made no attempt to put on speed, but let the young man stepaboard as they reached him. 

"What is it?" Oliver demanded. 

"I have been sent out by the Automobile Association, " said thestranger, "to warn you that they have a trap set in the next town. Sowatch out. "

And Oliver gave a gasp, and said, "Oh! Thank you!" The young manstepped off, and they went ahead, and he lay back in his seat and shookwith laughter. 

"Is that common?" his brother asked, between laughs. 

"It happened to me once before, " said Oliver. "But I'd forgotten itcompletely. "

They proceeded very slowly; and when they came to the outskirts of thevillage they went at a funereal pace, while the car throbbed inprotest. In front of a country store they saw a group of loungerswatching them, and Oliver said, "There's the first part of the trap. They have a telephone, and somewhere beyond is a man with anothertelephone, and beyond that a man to stretch a rope across the road. "

"What would they do with you?" asked the other. 

"Haul you up before a justice of the peace, and fine you anywhere fromfifty to two hundred and fifty dollars. It's regular highwayrobbery--there are some places that boast of never levying taxes; theyget all their money out of us!"

Oliver pulled out his watch. "We're going to be late to lunch, thanksto these delays, " he said. He added that they were to meet at the"Hawk's Nest, " which he said was an "automobile joint. "

Outside of the town they "hit it up" again; and half an hour later theycame to a huge sign, "To the Hawk's Nest, " and turned off. They ran upa hill, and came suddenly out of a pine-forest into view of a hostelry, perched upon the edge of a bluff overlooking the Sound. There was abroad yard in front, in which automobiles wheeled and sputtered, and along shed that was lined with them. 

Half a dozen attendants ran to meet them as they drew up at the steps. They all knew Oliver, and two fell to brushing his coat, and one gothis cap, while the mechanic took the car to the shed. Oliver had a tipfor each of them; one of the things that Montague observed was that inNew York you had to carry a pocketful of change, and scatter it aboutwherever you went. They tipped the man who carried their coats and theboy who opened the door. In the washrooms they tipped the boys whofilled the basins for them and those who gave them a second brushing. 

The piazzas of the inn were crowded with automobiling parties, in allsorts of strange costumes. It seemed to Montague that most of them wereflashy people--the men had red faces and the women had loud voices; hesaw one in a sky-blue coat with bright scarlet facing. It occurred tohim that if these women had not worn such large hats, they would nothave needed quite such a supply of the bright-coloured veiling whichthey wound over the hats and tied under their chins, or left to floatabout in the breeze. 

The dining-room seemed to have been built in sections, rambling abouton the summit of the cliff. The side of it facing the water was allglass, and could be taken down. The ceiling was a maze of streamers andJapanese lanterns, and here and there were orange-trees and palms andartificial streams and fountains. Every table was crowded, it seemed;one was half-deafened by the clatter of plates, the voices andlaughter, and the uproar of a negro orchestra of banjos, mandolins, andguitars. Negro waiters flew here and there, and a huge, stouthead-waiter, who was pirouetting and strutting, suddenly espied Oliver, and made for him with smiles of welcome. 

"Yes, sir--just come in, sir, " he said, and led the way down the room, to where, in a corner, a table had been set for sixteen or eighteenpeople. There was a shout, "Here's Ollie!"--and a pounding of glassesand a chorus of welcome--"Hello, Ollie! You're late, Ollie! What's thematter--car broke down?"

Of the party, about half were men and half women. Montague bracedhimself for the painful ordeal of being introduced to sixteen people insuccession, but this was considerately spared him. He shook hands withRobbie Walling, a tall and rather hollow-chested young man, with slightyellow moustaches; and with Mrs. Robbie, who bade him welcome, andpresented him with the freedom of the company. 

Then he found himself seated between two young ladies, with a waiterleaning over him to take his order for the drinks. He said, a littlehesitatingly, that he would like some whisky, as he was about frozen, upon which the girl on his right, remarked, "You'd better try achampagne cocktail--you'll get your results quicker. " She added, to thewaiter, "Bring a couple of them, and be quick about it. "

"You had a cold ride, no doubt, in that low car, " she went on, toMontague. "What made you late?"

"We had some delays, " he answered. "Once we thought we were arrested. "

"Arrested!" she exclaimed; and others took up the word, crying, "Oh, Ollie! tell us about it!"

Oliver told the tale, and meantime his brother had a chance to lookabout him. All of the party were young--he judged that he was theoldest person there. They were not of the flashily dressed sort, but noone would have had to look twice to know that there was money in thecrowd. They had had their first round of drinks, and started in toenjoy themselves. They were all intimates, calling each other by theirfirst names. Montague noticed that these names always ended in"ie, "--there was Robbie and Freddie and Auggie and Clarrie and Bertieand Chappie; if their names could not be made to end properly, they hadnicknames instead. 

"Ollie" told how they had distanced the policeman; and Clarrie Mason(one of the younger sons of the once mighty railroad king) told of asimilar feat which his car had performed. And then the young lady whosat beside him told how a fat Irish woman had skipped out of their wayas they rounded a corner, and stood and cursed them from thevantage-point of the sidewalk. 

The waiter came with the liquor, and Montague thanked his neighbour, Miss Price. Anabel Price was her name, and they called her "Billy"; shewas a tall and splendidly formed creature, and he learned in due timethat she was a famous athlete. She must have divined that he would feela little lost in this crowd of intimates, and set to work to make himfeel at home--an attempt in which she was not altogether successful. 

They were bound for a shooting-lodge, and so she asked him if he werefond of shooting. He replied that he was; in answer to a furtherquestion he said that he had hunted chiefly deer and wild turkey. "Ah, then you are a real hunter!" said Miss Price. "I'm afraid you'll scornour way. "

"What do you do?" he inquired. 

"Wait and you'll see, " replied she; and added, casually, "When you getto be pally with us, you'll conclude we don't furnish. "

Montague's jaw dropped just a little. He recovered himself, however, and said that he presumed so, or that he trusted not; afterward, whenhe had made inquiries and found out what he should have said, he hadcompletely forgotten what he HAD said. --Down in a hotel in Natchezthere was an old head-waiter, to whom Montague had once appealed toseat him next to a friend. At the next meal, learning that the requesthad been granted, he said to the old man, "I'm afraid you have shown mepartiality"; to which the reply came, "I always tries to show it asmuch as I kin. " Montague always thought of this whenever he recalledhis first encounter with "Billy" Price. 

The young lady on the other side of him now remarked that Robbie wasordering another "topsy-turvy lunch. " He inquired what sort of a lunchthat was; she told him that Robbie called it a "digestion exercise. "That was the only remark that Miss de Millo addressed to him during themeal (Miss Gladys de Mille, the banker's daughter, known as "Baby" toher intimates). She was a stout and round-faced girl, who devotedherself strictly to the business of lunching; and Montague noticed atthe end that she was breathing rather hard, and that her big round eyesseemed bigger than ever. 

Conversation was general about the table, but it was not easyconversation to follow. It consisted mostly of what is known as"joshing, " and involved acquaintance with intimate details ofpersonalities and past events. Also, there was a great deal of slangused, which kept a stranger's wits on the jump. However, Montagueconcluded that all his deficiencies were made up for by his brother, whose sallies were the cause of the loudest laughter. Just now heseemed to the other more like the Oliver he had known of old--forMontague had already noted a change in him. At home there had neverbeen any end to his gaiety and fun, and it was hard to get him to takeanything seriously; but now he kept all his jokes for company, and whenhe was alone he was in deadly earnest. Apparently he was working hardover his pleasures. 

Montague could understand how this was possible. Some one, forinstance, had worked hard over the ordering of the lunch--to secure themaximum of explosive effect. It began with ice-cream, moulded in fancyshapes and then buried in white of egg and baked brown. Then there wasa turtle soup, thick and green and greasy; and then--horror ofhorrors--a great steaming plum-pudding. It was served in a strangephenomenon of a platter, with six long, silver legs; and the waiter setit in front of Robbie Walling and lifted the cover with a sweepinggesture--and then removed it and served it himself. Montague had aboutmade up his mind that this was the end, and begun to fill up onbread-and-butter, when there appeared cold asparagus, served inindividual silver holders resembling andirons. Then--appetite now beingsufficiently whetted--there came quail, in piping hot littlecasseroles--; and then half a grape-fruit set in a block of ice andfilled with wine; and then little squab ducklings, bursting fat, and anartichoke; and then a _café parfait_; and then--as if to crown theaudacity--huge thick slices of roast beef! Montague had given up longago--he could keep no track of the deluge of food which poured forth. And between all the courses there were wines of precious brands, tumbled helter-skelter, --sherry and port, champagne and claret andliqueur. Montague watched poor "Baby" de Mille out of the corner of hiseye, and pitied her; for it was evident that she could not resist theimpulse to eat whatever was put before her, and she was visiblysuffering. He wondered whether he might not manage to divert her byconversation, but he lacked the courage to make the attempt. 

The meal was over at four o'clock. By that time most of the otherparties were far on their way to New York, and the inn was deserted. They possessed themselves of their belongings, and one by one theircars whirled away toward "Black Forest. "

Montague had been told that it was a "shooting-lodge. " He had a visionof some kind of a rustic shack, and wondered dimly how so many peoplewould be stowed away. When they turned off the main road, and hisbrother remarked, "Here we are, " he was surprised to see a rather largebuilding of granite, with an archway spanning the road. He was stillmore surprised when they whizzed through and went on. 

"Where are we going?" he asked. 

"To 'Black Forest, '" said Oliver. 

"And what was that we passed?"

"That was the gate-keeper's lodge, " was Oliver's reply. 

CHAPTER IV

They ran for about three miles upon a broad macadamized avenue, laidstraight as an arrow's flight through the forest; and then the sound ofthe sea came to them, and before them was a mighty granite pile, looming grim in the twilight, with a draw-bridge and moat, and fourgreat castellated towers. "Black Forest" was built in imitation of afamous old fortress in Provence--only the fortress had forty smallrooms, and its modern prototype had seventy large ones, and now everywindow was blazing with lights. A man does not let himself be caughttwice in such a blunder; and having visited a "shooting-lodge" whichhad cost three-quarters of a million dollars and was set in a preserveof ten thousand acres, he was prepared for Adirondack "camps" which hadcost half a million and Newport "cottages" which had cost a million ortwo. 

Liveried servants took the car, and others opened the door and tooktheir coats. The first thing they saw was a huge, fireplace, afireplace a dozen feet across, made of great boulders, and with wholesections of a pine tree blazing in it. Underfoot was polished hardwood, with skins of bear and buffalo. The firelight flickered upon shieldsand battle-axes and broad-swords, hung upon the oaken pillars; whilebetween them were tapestries, picturing the Song of Roland and thebattle of Roncesvalles. One followed the pillars of the great hall tothe vaulted roof, whose glass was glowing blood-red in the westernlight. A broad stairway ascended to the second floor, which opened upongalleries about the hall. 

Montague went to the fire, and stood rubbing his hands before thegrateful blaze. "Scotch or Irish, sir?" inquired a lackey, hovering athis side. He had scarcely given his order when the door opened and asecond motor load of the party appeared, shivering and rushing for thefire. In a couple of minutes they were all assembled--and roaring withlaughter over "Baby" de Mille's account of how her car had run over adachshund. "Oh, do you know, " she cried, "he simply POPPED!"

Half a dozen attendants hovered about, and soon the tables in the hallwere covered with trays containing decanters and siphons. By this meanseverybody in the party was soon warmed up, and then in groups theyscattered to amuse themselves. 

There was a great hall for indoor tennis, and there were half a dozensquash-courts. Montague knew neither of these games, but he wasinterested in watching the water-polo in the swimming-tank, and instudying the appointments of this part of the building. The tank, withthe walls and floor about it, were all of marble; there was a bronzegallery running about it, from which one might gaze into the greendepths of the water. There were luxurious dressing-rooms for men andwomen, with hot and cold needle-baths, steam-rooms with rubbers inattendance and weighing and lifting machines, electric machines forproducing "violet rays, " and electric air-blasts for the drying of thewomen's hair. 

He watched several games, in which men and women took part; and lateron, when the tennis and other players appeared, he joined them in aplunge. Afterward, he entered one of the electric elevators and wasescorted to his room, where he found his bag unpacked, and his eveningattire laid out upon the bed. 

It was about nine when the party went into the dining-room, whichopened upon a granite terrace and loggia facing the sea. The room wasfinished in some rare black wood, the name of which he did not know;soft radiance suffused it, and the table was lighted by electriccandles set in silver sconces, and veiled by silk shades. It gleamedwith its load of crystal and silver, set off by scattered groups oforchids and ferns. The repast of the afternoon had been simply a lunch, it seemed--and now they had an elaborate dinner, prepared by RobbieWalling's famous ten-thousand-dollar chef. In contrast with the uproarof the inn was the cloistral stillness of this dining-room, where theimpassive footmen seemed to move on padded slippers, and the coursesappeared and vanished as if by magic. Montague did his best to accustomhimself to the gowns of the women, which were cut lower than any he hadever seen in his life; but he hesitated every time he turned to speakto the young lady beside him, because he could look so deep down intoher bosom, and it was difficult for him to realize that she did notmind it. 

The conversation was the same as before, except that it was a littlemore general, and louder in tone; for the guests had become moreintimate, and as Robbie Walling's wines of priceless vintage pouredforth, they became a little "high. " The young lady who sat onMontague's right was a Miss Vincent, a granddaughter of one of thesugar-kings; she was dark-skinned and slender, and had appeared at arecent lawn fete in the costume of an Indian maiden. The company amuseditself by selecting an Indian name for her; all sorts of absurd oneswere suggested, depending upon various intimate details of the younglady's personality and habits. Robbie caused a laugh by suggesting"Little Dewdrop"--it appeared that she had once been discovered writinga poem about a dewdrop; some one else suggested "Little Raindrop, " andthen Ollie brought down the house by exclaiming, "Little Raindrop inthe Mud-puddle!" A perfect gale of laughter swept over the company, andit must have been a minute before they could recover their composure;in order to appreciate the humour of the sally it was necessary to knowthat Miss Vincent had "come a cropper" at the last meet of the LongIsland Hunt Club, and been extricated from a slough several feet deep. 

This was explained to Montague by the young lady on his left--the onewhose half-dressed condition caused his embarrassment. She was onlyabout twenty, with a wealth of golden hair and the bright, innocentface of a child; he had not yet learned her name, for every one calledher "Cherub. " Not long after this she made a remark across the table toBaby de Mille, a strange jumble of syllables, which sounded likeEnglish, yet was not. Miss de Mille replied, and several joined in, until there was quite a conversation going on. "Cherub" explained tohim that "Baby" had invented a secret language, made by transposingletters; and that Ollie and Bertie were crazy to guess the key to it, and could not. 

The dinner lasted until late. The wine-glasses continued to be emptied, and to be magically filled again. The laughter was louder, and now andthen there were snatches of singing; women lolled about in theirchairs-one beautiful boy sat gazing dreamily across the table atMontague, now and then closing his eyes, and opening them more and morereluctantly. The attendants moved about, impassive and silent as ever;no one else seemed to be cognizant of their existence, but Montaguecould not help noticing them, and wondering what they thought of it all. 

When at last the party broke up, it was because the bridge-playerswished to get settled for the evening. The others gathered in front ofthe fireplace, and smoked and chatted. At home, when one planned aday's hunting, he went to bed early and rose before dawn; but here, itseemed, there was game a-plenty, and the hunters had nothing toconsider save their own comfort. 

The cards were played in the vaulted "gun-room. " Montague strolledthrough it, and his eye ran down the wall, lined with glass cases andfilled with every sort of firearm known to the hunter. He recalled, with a twinge of self-abasement, that he had suggested bringing hisshotgun along!

He joined a group in one corner, and lounged in the shadows, andstudied "Billy" Price, whose conversation had so mystified him. "Billy, " whose father was a banker, proved to be a devotee of horses;she was a veritable Amazon, the one passion of whose life was glory. Seeing her sitting in this group, smoking cigarettes, and drinkinghighballs, and listening impassively to risqué stories, one mighteasily draw base conclusions about Billy Price. But as a matter of factshe was made of marble; and the men, instead of falling in love withher, made her their confidante, and told her their troubles, and soughther sympathy and advice. 

Some of this was explained to Montague by a young lady, who, as theevening wore on, came in and placed herself beside him. "My name isBetty Wyman, " she said, "and you and I will have to be friends, becauseOllie's my side partner. "

Montague had to meet her advances; so had not much time to speculate asto what the term "side partner" might be supposed to convey. Betty wasa radiant little creature, dressed in a robe of deep crimson, made ofsome soft and filmy and complicated material; there was a crimson rosein her hair, and a living glow of crimson in her cheeks. She was brightand quick, like a butterfly, full of strange whims and impulses;mischievous lights gleamed in her eyes and mischievous smiles playedabout her adorable little cherry lips. Some strange perfume haunted thefilmy dress, and completed the bewilderment of the intended victim. 

"I have a letter of introduction to a Mr. Wyman in New York, " saidMontague. "Perhaps he is a relative of yours. "

"Is he a railroad president?" asked she; and when he answered in theaffirmative, "Is he a railroad king?" she whispered, in a mocking, awe-stricken voice, "Is he rich--oh, rich as Solomon--and is he aterrible man, who eats people alive all the time?"

"Yes, " said Montague--"that must be the one. "

"Well, " said Betty, "he has done me the honour to be my granddaddy; butdon't you take any letter of introduction to him. "

"Why not?" asked he, perplexed. 

"Because he'll eat YOU, " said the girl. "He hates Ollie. "

"Dear me, " said the other; and the girl asked, "Do you mean that theboy hasn't said a word about me?"

"No, " said Montague--"I suppose he left it for you to do. "

"Well, " said Betty, "it's like a fairy story. Do you ever read fairystories? In this story there was a princess--oh, the most beautifulprincess! Do you understand?"

"Yes, " said Montague. "She wore a red rose in her hair. "

"And then, " said the girl, "there was a young courtier--very handsomeand gay; and they fell in love with each other. But the terrible oldking--he wanted his daughter to wait a while, until he got throughconquering his enemies, so that he might have time to pick out someprince or other, or maybe some ogre who was wasting his lands--do youfollow me?"

"Perfectly, " said he. "And then did the beautiful princess pine away?"

"Um--no, " said Betty, pursing her lips. "But she had to dance terriblyhard to keep from thinking about herself. " Then she laughed, andexclaimed, "Dear me, we are getting poetical!" And next, looking soberagain, "Do you know, I was half afraid to talk to you. Ollie tells meyou're terribly serious. Are you?"

"I don't know, " said Montague--but she broke in with a laugh, "We weretalking about you at dinner last night. They had some whipped creamdone up in funny little curliques, and Ollie said, 'Now, if my brotherAllan were here, he'd be thinking about the man who fixed this cream, and how long it took him, and how he might have been reading "TheSimple Life. "' Is that true?"

"It involves a question of literary criticism"--said Montague. 

"I don't want to talk about literature, " exclaimed the other. In truth, she wanted nothing save to feel of his armour and find out if therewere any weak spots through which he could be teased. Montague was tofind in time that the adorable Miss Elizabeth was a very thorny speciesof rose--she was more like a gay-coloured wasp, of predatorytemperament. 

"Ollie says you want to go down town and work, " she went on. "I thinkyou're awfully foolish. Isn't it much nicer to spend your time in animitation castle like this?"

"Perhaps, " said he, "but I haven't any castle. "

"You might get one, " answered Betty. "Stay around awhile and let usmarry you to a nice girl. They will all throw themselves at your feet, you know, for you have such a delicious melting voice, and you lookromantic and exciting. " (Montague made a note to inquire whether it wascustomary in New York to talk about you so frankly to your face. )

Miss Betty was surveying him quizzically meantime. "I don't know, " shesaid. "On second thoughts, maybe you'll frighten the girls. Then it'llbe the married women who'll fall in love with you. You'll have to watchout. "

"I've already been told that by my tailor, " said Montague, with a laugh. 

"That would be a still quicker way of making your fortune, " said she. "But I don't think you'd fit in the rôle of a tame cat. "

"A _what_?" he exclaimed; and Miss Betty laughed. 

"Don't you know what that is? Dear me--how charmingly naive! Butperhaps you'd better get Ollie to explain for you. "

That brought the conversation to the subject of slang; and Montague, ina sudden burst of confidence, asked for an interpretation of MissPrice's cryptic utterance. "She said"--he repeated slowly--"that when Igot to be pally with her, I'd conclude she didn't furnish. "

"Oh, yes, " said Miss Wyman. "She just meant that when you knew her, you'd be disappointed. You see, she picks up all the race-trackslang--one can't help it, you know. And last year she took her coachover to England, and so she's got all the English slang. That makes ithard, even for us. "

And then Betty sailed in to entertain him with little sketches of othermembers of the party. A phenomenon that had struck Montague immediatelywas the extraordinary freedom with which everybody in New Yorkdiscussed everybody else. As a matter of fact, one seldom discussedanything else; and it made not the least difference, though the personwere one of your set, --though he ate your bread and salt, and you atehis, --still you would amuse yourself by pouring forth the most painfuland humiliating and terrifying things about him. 

There was poor Clarrie Mason: Clarrie, sitting in at bridge, with anexpression of feverish eagerness upon his pale face. Clarrie alwayslost, and it positively broke his heart, though he had ten millionslaid by on ice. Clarrie went about all day, bemoaning his brother, whohad been kidnapped. Had Montague not heard about it? Well, thenewspapers called it a marriage, but it was really a kidnapping. PoorLarry Mason was good-natured and weak in the knees, and he had beencarried off by a terrible creature, three times as big as himself, andwith a temper like--oh, there were no words for it! She had been anactress; and now she had carried Larry away in her talons, and wasbuilding a big castle to keep him in--for he had ten millions too, alas!

And then there was Bertie Stuyvesant, beautiful and winning--the boywho had sat opposite Montague at dinner. Bertie's father had been acoal man, and nobody knew how many millions he had left. Bertie wasgay; last week he had invited them to a brook-trout breakfast--inNovember--and that had been a lark! Somebody had told him that troutnever really tasted good unless you caught them yourself, and Bertiehad suddenly resolved to catch them for that breakfast. "They have abig preserve up in the Adirondacks, " said Betty; "and Bertie orderedhis private train, and he and Chappie de Peyster and some othersstarted that night; they drove I don't know how many miles the nextday, and caught a pile of trout--and we had them for breakfast the nextmorning! The best joke of all is that Chappie vows they were so fullthey couldn't fish, and that the trout were caught with nets! PoorBertie--somebody'll have to separate him from that decanter now!"

From the hall there came loud laughter, with sounds of scuffling, andcries, "Let me have it!"--"That's Baby de Mille, " said Miss Wyman. "She's always wanting to rough-house it. Robbie was mad the last timeshe was down here; she got to throwing sofa-cushions, and upset a vase. "

"Isn't that supposed to be good form?" asked Montague. 

"Not at Robbie's, " said she. "Have you had a chance to talk with Robbieyet? You'll like him--he's serious, like you. "

"What's he serious about?"

"About spending his money, " said Betty. "That's the only thing he hasto be serious about. "

"Has he got so very much?"

"Thirty or forty millions, " she replied; "but then, you see, a lot ofit's in the inner companies of his railroad system, and it pays himfabulously. And his wife has money, too--she was a Miss Mason, youknow, her father's one of the steel crowd. We've a saying that thereare millionaires, and then multi-millionaires, and then Pittsburgmillionaires. Anyhow, the two of them spend all their income inentertaining. It's Robbie's fad to play the perfect host--he likes tohave lots of people round him. He does put up good times--only he's sovery important about it, and he has so many ideas of what is proper! Iguess most of his set would rather go to Mrs. Jack Warden's any day;I'd be there to-night, if it hadn't been for Ollie. "

"Who's Mrs. Jack Warden?" asked Montague. 

"Haven't you ever heard of her?" said Betty. "She used to be Mrs. VanAmbridge, and then she got a divorce and married Warden, the big lumberman. She used to give 'boy and girl' parties, in the English fashion;and when we went there we'd do as we please--play tag all over thehouse, and have pillow-fights, and ransack the closets and get upmasquerades! Mrs. Warden's as good-natured as an old cow. You'll meether sometime--only don't you let her fool you with those soft eyes ofhers. You'll find she doesn't mean it; it's just that she likes to havehandsome men hanging round her. "

At one o'clock a few of Robbie's guests went to bed, Montague amongthem. He left two tables of bridge fiends sitting immobile, the womenwith flushed faces and feverish hands, and the men with cigarettesdangling from their lips. There were trays and decanters beside eachcard-table; and in the hall he passed three youths staggering about ineach other's arms and feebly singing snatches of "coon songs. " Ollieand Betty had strolled away together to parts unknown. 

Montague had entered his name in the order-book to be called at nineo'clock. The man who awakened him brought him coffee and cream upon asilver tray, and asked him if he would have anything stronger. He wasprivileged to have his breakfast in his room, if he wished; but he wentdownstairs, trying his best to feel natural in his elaborate huntingcostume. No one else had appeared yet, but he found the traces of lastnight cleared away, and breakfast ready--served in English fashion, with urns of tea and coffee upon the buffet. The grave butler and hissatellites were in attendance, ready to take his order for anythingelse under the sun that he fancied. 

Montague preferred to go for a stroll upon the terrace, and to watchthe sunlight sparkling upon the sea. The morning wasbeautiful--everything about the place was so beautiful that he wonderedhow men and women could live here and not feel the spell of it. 

Billy Price came down shortly afterward, clad in a khaki hunting suit, with knee kilts and button-pockets and gun-pads and Cossackcartridge-loops. She joined him in a stroll down the beach, and talkedto him about the coming winter season, with its leading personalitiesand events, --the Horse Show, which opened next week, and the prospectsfor the opera, and Mrs. De Graffenried's opening entertainment. Whenthey came back it was eleven o'clock, and they found most of the guestsassembled, nearly all of them looking a little pale and uncomfortablein the merciless morning light. As the two came in they observed BertieStuyvesant standing by the buffet, in the act of gulping down a tumblerof brandy. "Bertie has taken up the 'no breakfast fad, '" said Billywith an ironical smile. 

Then began the hunt. The equipment of "Black Forest" included a granitebuilding, steam-heated and elaborately fitted, in which an Englishexpert and his assistants raised imported pheasants--magnificentbronze-coloured birds with long, floating black tails. Just before theopening of the season they were dumped by thousands into thecovers--fat, and almost tame enough to be fed by hand; and now came the"hunters. "

First they drew lots, for they were to hunt in pairs, a man and awoman. Montague drew Miss Vincent--"Little Raindrop in the Mud-puddle. "Then Ollie, who was master of ceremonies, placed them in a long line, and gave them the direction; and at a signal they moved through theforest; Following each person were two attendants, to carry the extraguns and reload them; and out in front were men to beat the bushes andscare the birds into flight. 

Now Montague's idea of hunting had been to steal through the bayouforests, and match his eyes against those of the wild turkey, and shootoff their heads with a rifle bullet. So, when one of these birds rosein front of him, he fired, and the bird dropped; and he could have doneit for ever, he judged--only it was stupid slaughter, and it sickenedhim. However, if the creatures were not shot, they must inevitablyperish in the winter snows; and he had heard that Robbie sent the gameto the hospitals. Also, the score was being kept, and Miss Vincent, whowas something of a shot herself, was watching him with eagerexcitement, being wild with desire to beat out Billy Price and Chappiede Peyster, who were the champion shots of the company. Baby de Mille, who was on his left, and who could not shoot at all, was blunderingalong, puffing for breath and eyeing him enviously; and the attendantsat his back were trembling with delight and murmuring their applause. So he shot on, as long as the drive lasted, and again on their wayback, over a new stretch of the country. Sometimes the birds would risein pairs, and he would drop them both; and twice when a blunderingflock took flight in his direction he seized a second gun and broughtdown a second pair. When the day's sport came to an end his score wasfifteen better than his nearest competitor, and he and his partner hadwon the day. 

They crowded round to congratulate him; first his partner, and then hisrivals, and his host and hostess. Montague found that he had suddenlybecome a person of consequence. Some who had previously taken no noticeof him now became aware of his existence; proud society bellescondescended to make conversation with him, and Clarrie Mason, whohated de Peyster, made note of a way to annoy him. As for Oliver, hewas radiant with delight. "When it came to horses and guns, I knewyou'd make good, " he whispered. 

Leaving the game to be gathered up in carts, they made their way home, and there the two victors received their prizes. The man's consisted ofa shaving set in a case of solid gold, set with diamonds. Montague wassimply stunned, for the thing could not have cost less than one or twothousand dollars. He could not persuade himself that he had a right toaccept of such hospitality, which he could never hope to return. He wasto realize in time that Robbie lived for the pleasure of thushumiliating his fellow-men. 

After luncheon, the party came to an end. Some set out to return asthey had come; and others, who had dinner engagements, went back withtheir host in his private car, leaving their autos to be returned bythe chauffeurs. Montague and his brother were among these; and aboutdusk, when the swarms of working people were pouring out of the city, they crossed the ferry and took a cab to their hotel. 

CHAPTER V

They found their apartments looking as if they had been struck by asnowstorm-a storm of red and green and yellow, and all the colours thatlie between. All day the wagons of fashionable milliners and costumiershad been stopping at the door, and their contents had found their wayto Alice's room. The floors were ankle-deep in tissue paper and tape, and beds and couches and chairs were covered with boxes, in which laywonderful symphonies of colour, half disclosed in their wrappings ofgauze. In the midst of it all stood the girl, her eyes shining withexcitement. 

"Oh, Allan!" she cried, as they entered. "How am I ever to thank you?"

"You're not to thank me, " Montague replied. "This is all Oliver'sdoings. "

"Oliver!" exclaimed the girl, and turned to him. "How in the worldcould you do it?" she cried. "How will you ever get the money to payfor it all?"

"That's my problem, " said the man, laughing. "All you have to thinkabout is to look beautiful. "

"If I don't, " was her reply, "it won't be for lack of clothes. I neversaw so many wonderful things in all my life as I've seen to-day. "

"There's quite a show of them, " admitted Oliver. 

"And Reggie Mann! It was so queer, Allan! I never went shopping with aman before. And he's so--so matter-of-fact. You know, he boughtme--everything!"

"That was what he was told to do, " said Oliver. "Did you like him?"

"I don't know, " said the girl. "He's queer--I never met a man like thatbefore. But he was awfully kind; and the people just turned theirstores inside out for us--half a dozen people hurrying about to wait onyou at once!"

"You'll get used to such things, " said Oliver; and then, steppingtoward the bed, "Let's see what you got. "

"Most of the things haven't come, " said Alice. "The gowns all have tobe fitted. --That one is for to-night, " she added, as he lifted up abeautiful object made of rose-coloured chiffon. 

Oliver studied it, and glanced once or twice at the girl. "I guess youcan carry it, " he said. "What sort of a cloak are you to wear?"

"Oh, the cloak!" cried Alice. "Oliver, I can't believe it's really tobelong to me. I didn't know anyone but princesses wore such things. "

The cloak was in Mrs. Montague's room, and one of the maids brought itin. It was an opera-wrap of grey brocade, lined with unborn babylamb--a thing of a gorgeousness that made Montague literally gasp forbreath. 

"Did you ever see anything like it in your life?" cried Alice. "AndOliver, is it true that I have to have gloves and shoes andstockings--and a hat--to match every gown?"

"Of course. " said Oliver. "If you were doing things right, you ought tohave a cloak to match each evening gown as well. "

"It seems incredible, " said the girl. "Can it be right to spend so muchmoney for things to wear?"

But Oliver was not discussing questions of ethics; he was examiningsets of tinted crepe de chine lingerie, and hand-woven hose of spunsilk. There were boxes upon boxes, and bureau drawers and closetshelves already filled up with hand-embroidered and lace-trimmedcreations-chemises and corset-covers, night-robes of "handkerchieflinen" lawn, lace handkerchiefs and veils, corsets of French coutil, dressing-jackets of pale-coloured silks, and negligees of softbatistes, trimmed with Valenciennes lace, or even with fur. 

"You must have put in a full day, " he said. 

"I never looked at so many things in my life, " said Alice. "And Mr. Mann never stopped to ask the price of a thing. "

"I didn't think to tell him to, " said Oliver, laughing. 

Then the girl went in to dress--and Oliver faced about to find hisbrother sitting and staring hard at him. 

"Tell me!" Montague exclaimed. "In God's name, what is all this tocost?"

"I don't know, " said Oliver, impassively. "I haven't seen the bills. It'll be fifteen or twenty thousand, I guess. "

Montague's hands clenched involuntarily, and he sat rigid. "How longwill it all last her?" he asked. 

"Why, " said the other, "when she gets enough, it'll last her untilspring, of course--unless she goes South during the winter. "

"How much is it going to take to dress her for a year?"

"I suppose thirty or forty thousand, " was the reply. "I don't expect tokeep count. "

Montague sat in silence. "You don't want to shut her up and keep her athome, do you?" inquired his brother, at last. 

"Do you mean that other women spend that much on clothes?" he demanded. 

"Of course, " said Oliver, "hundreds of them. Some spend fiftythousand--I know several who go over a hundred. "

"It's monstrous!" Montague exclaimed. 

"Fiddlesticks!" was the other's response. "Why, thousands of peoplelive by it--wouldn't know anything else to do. "

Montague said nothing to that. "Can you afford to have Alice competewith such women indefinitely?" he asked. 

"I have no idea of her doing it indefinitely, " was Oliver's reply. "Isimply propose to give her a chance. When she's married, her bills willbe paid by her husband. "

"Oh, " said the other, "then this layout is just for her to be exhibitedin. "

"You may say that, " answered Oliver, --"if you want to be foolish. Youknow perfectly well that parents who launch their daughters in Societydon't figure on keeping up the pace all their lifetimes. "

"We hadn't thought of marrying Alice off, " said Montague. 

To which his brother replied that the best physicians left all theycould to nature. "Suppose, " said he, "that we just introduce her in theright set, and turn her loose and let her enjoy herself--and then crossthe next bridge when we come to it?"

Montague sat with knitted brows, pondering. ' He was beginning to see alittle daylight now. "Oliver, " he asked suddenly, "are you sure thestakes in this game aren't too big?"

"How do you mean?" asked the other. 

"Will you be able to stay in until the show-down? Until either Alice ormyself begins to bring in some returns?"

"Never worry about that, " said the other, with a laugh. 

"But hadn't you better take me into your confidence?" Montaguepersisted. "How many weeks can you pay our rent in this place? Have yougot the money to pay for all these clothes?"

"I've got it, " laughed the other--"but that doesn't say I'm going topay it. "

"Don't you have to pay your bills? Can we do all this upon credit?"

Oliver laughed again. "You go at me like a prosecuting attorney, " hesaid. "I'm afraid you'll have to inquire around and learn some respectfor your brother. " Then he added, seriously, "You see, Allan, peoplelike Reggie or myself are in position to bring a great deal of customto tradespeople, and so they are willing to go out of their way tooblige us. And we have commissions of all sorts coming to us, so it'snever any question of cash. "

"Oh!" exclaimed the other, opening his eyes, "I see! Is that the wayyou make money?"

"It's one of the ways we save it, " said Oliver. "It comes to the samething. "

"Do people know it?"

"Why, of course. Why not?"

"I don't know, " said Montague. "It sounds a little queer. "

"Nothing of the kind, " said Oliver. "Some of the best people in NewYork do it. Strangers come to the city, and they want to go to theright places, and they ask me, and I send them. Or take Robbie Walling, who keeps up five or six establishments, and spends several millions ayear. He can't see to it all personally--if he did, he'd never doanything else. Why shouldn't he ask a friend to attend to things forhim? Or again, a new shop opens, and they want Mrs. Walling's trade forthe sake of the advertising, and they offer her a discount and me acommission. Why shouldn't I get her to try them?"

"It's quite intricate, " commented the other. "The stores have more thanone price, then?"

"They have as many prices as they have customers, " was the answer. "Whyshouldn't they? New York is full of raw rich people who value things bywhat they pay. And why shouldn't they pay high and be happy? Thatopera-cloak that Alice has--Reval promised it to me for two thousand, and I'll wager you she'd charge some woman from Butte, Montana, thirty-five hundred for one just like it. "

Montague got up suddenly. "Stop, " he said, waving his hands. "You takeall the bloom off the butterfly's wings!"

He asked where they were going that evening, and Oliver said that theywere invited to an informal dinner-party at Mrs. Winnie Duval's. Mrs. Winnie was the young widow who had recently married the founder of thegreat banking-house of Puval and Co. --so Oliver explained; she was achum of his, and they would meet an interesting set there. She wasgoing to invite her cousin, Charlie Carter--she wanted him to meetAlice. "Mrs. Winnie's always plotting to get Charlie to settle down, "said Oliver, with a merry laugh. 

He telephoned for his man to bring over his clothes, and he and hisbrother dressed. Then Alice came in, looking like the goddess of thedawn in the gorgeous rose-coloured gown. The colour in her cheeks waseven brighter than usual; for she was staggered to find how low thegown was cut, and was afraid she was committing a faux pas. "Tell meabout it, " she stammered. "Mammy Lucy says I'm surely supposed to wearsome lace, or a bouquet. "

"Mammy Lucy isn't a Paris costumier, " said Oliver, much amused. "Dearme--wait until you have seen Mrs. Winnie!"

Mrs. Winnie had kindly sent her limousine car for them, and it stoodthrobbing in front of the hotel-entrance, its acetylenes streaming farup the street. Mrs. Winnie's home was on Fifth Avenue, fronting thepark. It occupied half a block, and had cost two millions to build andfurnish. It was known as the "Snow Palace, " being all of white marble. 

At the curb a man in livery opened the door of the car, and in thevestibule another man in livery bowed the way. Lined up just inside thedoor was a corps of imposing personages, clad in scarlet waistcoats andvelvet knee-breeches, with powdered wigs, and gold buttons, and goldbuckles on their patent-leather pumps. These splendid creatures tooktheir wraps, and then presented to Montague and Oliver a bouquet offlowers upon a silver salver, and upon another salver a tiny envelopebearing the name of their partner at this strictly "informal"dinner-party. Then the functionaries stood out of the way and permittedthem to view the dazzling splendour of the entrance hall of the SnowPalace. There was a great marble staircase running up from the centreof the hall, with a carved marble gallery above, and a marble fireplacebelow. To decorate this mansion a real palace in the Punjab had beenbought outright and plundered; there were mosaics of jade, andwonderful black marble, and rare woods, and strange and perplexingcarvings. 

The head butler stood at the entrance to the salon, pronouncing theirnames; and just inside was Mrs. Winnie. 

Montague never forgot that first vision of her; she might have been areal princess out of the palace in the Punjab. She was a brunette, rich-coloured, full-throated and deep-bosomed, with scarlet lips, andblack hair and eyes. She wore a court-gown of cloth of silver, withwhite kid shoes embroidered with jewelled flowers. All her life she hadbeen collecting large turquoises, and these she had made into a tiara, and a neck ornament spreading over her chest, and a stomacher. Each ofthese stones was mounted with diamonds, and set upon a slender wire. Soas she moved they quivered and shimmered, and the effect was dazzling, barbaric. 

She must have seen that Montague was staggered, for she gave him alittle extra pressure of the hand, and said, "I'm so glad you came. Ollie has told me all about you. " Her voice was soft and melting, notso forbidding as her garb. 

Montague ran the gauntlet of the other guests: Charlie Carter, abeautiful, dark-haired boy, having the features of a Greek god, but asallow and unpleasant complexion; Major "Bob" Venable, a stout littlegentleman with a red face and a heavy jowl; Mrs. Frank Landis, amerry-eyed young widow with pink cheeks and auburn hair; Willie Davis, who had been a famous half-back, and was now junior partner in thebanking-house; and two young married couples, whose names Montaguemissed. 

The name written on his card was Mrs. Alden. She came in just afterhim--a matron of about fifty, of vigorous aspect and ample figure, approaching what he had not yet learned to call embonpoint. She worebrocade, as became a grave dowager, and upon her ample bosom there layan ornament the size of a man's hand, and made wholly out of blazingdiamonds--the most imposing affair that Montague had ever laid eyesupon. She gave him her hand to shake, and made no attempt to disguisethe fact that she was looking him over in the meantime. 

"Madam, dinner is served, " said the stately butler; and the glitteringprocession moved into the dining-room--a huge state apartment, finishedin some lustrous jet-black wood, and with great panel paintingsillustrating the Romaunt de la Rose. The table was covered with a clothof French embroidery, and gleaming with its load of crystal and goldplate. At either end there were huge candlesticks of solid gold, and inthe centre a mound of orchids and lilies of the valley, matching incolour the shades of the candelabra and the daintily painted menu cards. 

"You are fortunate in coming to New York late in life, " Mrs. Alden wassaying to him. "Most of our young men are tired out before they havesense enough to enjoy anything. Take my advice and look aboutyou--don't let that lively brother of yours set the pace for you. "

In front of Mrs. Alden there was a decanter of Scotch whisky. "Will youhave some?" she asked, as she took it up. 

"No, I thank you, " said he, and then wondered if perhaps he should nothave said yes, as he watched the other select the largest of thehalf-dozen wine-glasses clustered at her place, and pour herself out agenerous libation. 

"Have you seen much of the city?" she asked, as she tossed itoff--without as much as a quiver of an eyelash. 

"No, " said he. "They have not given me much time. They took me off tothe country--to the Robert Wallings'. "

"Ah, " said Mrs. Alden; and Montague, struggling to make conversation, inquired, "Do you know Mr. Walling?"

"Quite well, " said the other, placidly. "I used to be a Walling myself, you know. "

"Oh, " said Montague, taken aback; and then added, "Before you weremarried?"

"No, " said Mrs. Alden, more placidly than ever, "before I was divorced. "

There was a dead silence, and Montague sat gasping to catch his breath. Then suddenly he heard a faint subdued chuckle, which grew into openlaughter; and he stole a glance at Mrs. Alden, and saw that her eyeswere twinkling; and then he began to laugh himself. They laughedtogether, so merrily that others at the table began to look at them inperplexity. 

So the ice was broken between them; which filled Montague with a vastrelief. But he was still dimly touched with awe--for he realized thatthis must be the great Mrs. Billy Alden, whose engagement to the Dukeof London was now the topic of the whole country. And that huge diamondornament must be part of Mrs. Alden's million-dollar outfit ofjewellery!

The great lady volunteered not to tell on him; and added generouslythat when he came to dinner with her she would post him concerning thecompany. "It's awkward for a stranger, I can understand, " said she; andcontinued, grimly: "When people get divorces it sometimes means thatthey have quarrelled--and they don't always make it up afterward, either. And sometimes other people quarrel--almost as bitterly as ifthey had been married. Many a hostess has had her reputation ruined bynot keeping track of such things. "

So Montague made the discovery that the great Mrs. Billy, though. Forbidding of aspect, was good-natured when she chose to be, and with apretty wit. She was a woman with a mind of her own--a hard-fightingcharacter, who had marshalled those about her, and taken her place atthe head of the column. She had always counted herself a personageenough to do exactly as she pleased; through the course of the dinnershe would take up the decanter of Scotch, and make a pass to helpMontague--and then, when he declined, pour out imperturbably what shewanted. "I don't like your brother, " she said to him, a little later. "He won't last; but he tells me you're different, so maybe I will likeyou. Come and see me sometime, and let me tell you what not to do inNew York. "

Then Montague turned to talk with his hostess, who sat on his right. 

"Do you play bridge?" asked Mrs. Winnie, in her softest and mostgracious tone. 

"My brother has given me a book to study from, " he answered. "But if hetakes me about day and night, I don't know how I'm to manage it. "

"Come and let me teach you, " said Mrs. Winnie. "I mean it, really, " sheadded. "I've nothing to do--at least that I'm not tired of. Only Idon't believe you'd take long to learn all that I know. "

"Aren't you a successful player?" he asked sympathetically. 

"I don't believe anyone wants me to learn, " said Mrs. Winnie. --"They'drather come and get my money. Isn't that true, Major?"

Major Venable sat on her other hand, and he paused in the act ofraising a spoonful of soup to his lips, and laughed, deep down in histhroat--a queer little laugh that shook his fat cheeks and neck. "I maysay, " he said, "that I know several people to whom the status quo issatisfactory. "

"Including yourself, " said the lady, with a little moue. "The wretchedman won sixteen hundred dollars from me last night; and he sat in hisclub window all afternoon, just to have the pleasure of laughing at meas I went by. I don't believe I'll play at all to-night--I'm going tomake myself agreeable to Mr. Montague, and let you win from VirginiaLandis for a change. "

And then the Major paused again in his attack upon the soup. "My dearMrs. Winnie, " he said, "I can live for much more than one day uponsixteen hundred dollars!"

The Major was a famous club-man and bon vivant, as Montague learnedlater on. "He's an uncle of Mrs. Bobbie Walling's, " said Mrs. Alden, inhis ear. "And incidentally they hate each other like poison. "

"That is so that I won't repeat my luckless question again?" askedMontague, with a smile. 

"Oh, they meet, " said the other. "You wouldn't be supposed to knowthat. Won't you have any Scotch?"

Montague's thoughts were so much taken up with the people at thisrepast that he gave little thought to the food. He noticed withsurprise that they had real spring lamb--it being the middle ofNovember. But he could not know that the six-weeks-old creatures fromwhich it had come had been raised in cotton-wool and fed on milk with aspoon--and had cost a dollar and a half a pound. A little later, however, there was placed before him a delicately browned sweetbreadupon a platter of gold, and then suddenly he began to pay attention. Mrs. Winnie had a coat of arms; he had noticed it upon her auto, andagain upon the great bronze gates of the Snow Palace, and again uponthe liveries of her footmen, and yet again upon the decanter of Scotch. And now--incredible and appalling--he observed it branded upon thedelicately browned sweetbread!

After that, who would not have watched? There were large dishes of rarefruits upon the table--fruits which had been packed in cotton wool andshipped in cold storage from every corner of the earth. There werepeaches which had come from South Africa (they had cost ten dollarsapiece). There were bunches of Hamburg grapes, dark purple and burstingfat, which had been grown in a hot-house, wrapped in paper bags. Therewere nectarines and plums, and pomegranates and persimmons from Japan, and later on, little dishes of plump strawberries-raised in pots. Therewere quail which had come from Egypt, and a wonderful thing called"crab-flake a la Dewey, " cooked in a chafing-dish, and served withmushrooms that had been grown in the tunnels of abandoned mines inMichigan. There was lettuce raised by electric light, and lima beansthat had come from Porto Rico, and artichokes brought from France at acost of one dollar each. --And all these extraordinary viands werewashed down by eight or nine varieties of wines, from the cellar of aman who had made collecting them a fad for the last thirty years, whohad a vineyard in France for the growing of his own champagne, and kepttwenty thousand quarts of claret in storage all the time--and procuredhis Rhine wine from the cellar of the German Emperor, at a cost oftwenty-five dollars a quart!

There were twelve people at dinner, and afterward they made two tablesfor bridge, leaving Charlie Carter to talk to Alice, and Mrs. Winnie todevote herself to Montague, according to her promise. "Everybody likesto see my house, " she said. "Would you?" And she led the way from thedining-room into the great conservatory, which formed a central courtextending to the roof of the building. She pressed a button, and a softradiance streamed down from above, in the midst of which Mrs. Winniestood, with her shimmering jewels a very goddess of the fire. 

The conservatory was a place in which he could have spent the evening;it was filled with the most extraordinary varieties of plants. "Theywere gathered from all over the world, " said Mrs. Winnie, seeing thathe was staring at them. "My husband employed a connoisseur to hunt themout for him. He did it before we were married--he thought it would makeme happy. "

In the centre of the place there was a fountain, twelve or fourteenfeet in height, and set in a basin of purest Carrara marble. By thetouch of a button the pool was flooded with submerged lights, and onemight see scores of rare and beautiful fish swimming about. 

"Isn't it fine!" said Mrs. Winnie, and added eagerly, "Do you know, Icome here at night, sometimes when I can't sleep, and sit for hours andgaze. All those living things; with their extraordinary forms-some ofthem have faces, and look like human beings! And I wonder what theythink about, and if life seems as strange to them as it does to me. "

She seated herself by the edge of the pool, and gazed in. "These fishwere given to me by my cousin, Ned Carter. They call him Buzzie. Haveyou met him yet?--No, of course not. He's Charlie's brother, and hecollects art things--the most unbelievable things. Once, a long timeago, he took a fad for goldfish--some goldfish are very rare andbeautiful, you know--one can pay twenty-five and fifty dollars apiecefor them. He got all the dealers had, and when he learned that therewere some they couldn't get, he took a trip to Japan and China onpurpose to get them. You know they raise them there, and some of themare sacred, and not allowed to be sold or taken out of the country. Andhe had all sorts of carved ivory receptacles for them, that he broughthome with him--he had one beautiful marble basin about ten feet long, that had been stolen from the Emperor. "

Over Montague's shoulder where he sat, there hung an orchid, a mostcurious creation, an explosion of scarlet flame. "That is theodonto-glossum, " said Mrs. Winnie. "Have you heard of it?"

"Never, " said the man. 

"Dear me, " said the other. "Such is fame!"

"Is it supposed to be famous?" he asked. 

"Very, " she replied. "There was a lot in the newspapers about it. Yousee Winton--that's my husband, you know--paid twenty-five thousanddollars to the man who created it; and that made a lot of foolishtalk--people come from all over to look at it. I wanted to have it, because its shape is exactly like the coronet on my crest. Do younotice that?"

"Yes, " said Montague. "It's curious. "

"I'm very proud of my crest, " continued Mrs. Winnie. "Of course thereare vulgar rich people who have them made to order, and make themridiculous; but ours is a real one. It's my own--not my husband's; theDuvals are an old French family, but they're not noble. I was a Morris, you know, and our line runs back to the old French ducal house ofMontmorenci. And last summer, when we were motoring, I hunted up one oftheir chateaux; and see! I brought over this. "

Mrs. Winnie pointed to a suit of armour, placed in a passage leading tothe billiard-room. "I have had the lights fixed, " she added. And shepressed a button, and all illumination vanished, save for a faint redglow just above the man in armour. 

"Doesn't he look real?" said she. (He had his visor down, and abattle-axe in his mailed hands. ) "I like to imagine that he may havebeen my twentieth great-grandfather. I come and sit here, and gaze athim and shiver. Think what a terrible time it must have been to livein--when men wore things like that! It couldn't be any worse to be acrab. "

"You seem to be fond of strange emotions, " said Montague, laughing. 

"Maybe I am, " said the other. "I like everything that's old andromantic, and makes you forget this stupid society world. "

She stood brooding for a moment or two, gazing at the figure. Then sheasked, abruptly, "Which do you like best, pictures or swimming?"

"Why, " replied the man, laughing and perplexed, "I like them both, attimes. "

"I wondered which you'd rather see first, " explained his escort; "theart gallery or the natatorium. I'm afraid you'll get tired beforeyou've seen every thing. "

"Suppose we begin with the art-gallery, " said he. "There's not much tosee in a swimming-pool. "

"Ah, but ours is a very special one, " said the lady. --"And some day, ifyou'll be very good, and promise not to tell anyone, I'll let you seemy own bath. Perhaps they've told you, I have one in my own apartments, cut out of a block of the most wonderful green marble. "

Montague showed the expected amount of astonishment. 

"Of course that gave the dreadful newspapers another chance to gossip, "said Mrs. Winnie, plaintively. "People found out what I had paid forit. One can't have anything beautiful without that question beingasked. "

And then followed a silence, while Mrs. Winnie waited for him to askit. As he forebore to do so, she added, "It was fifty thousand dollars. "

They were moving towards the elevator, where a small boy in thewonderful livery of plush and scarlet stood at attention. "Sometimes, "she continued, "it seems to me that it is wicked to pay such prices forthings. Have you ever thought about it?"

"Occasionally, " Montague replied. 

"Of course, " said she, "it makes work for people; and I suppose theycan't be better employed than in making beautiful things. Butsometimes, when I think of all the poverty there is, I get unhappy. Wehave a winter place down South--one of those huge country-houses thatlook like exposition buildings, and have rooms for a hundred guests;and sometimes I go driving by myself, down to the mill towns, and gothrough them and talk to the children. I came to know some of themquite well--poor little wretches. "

They stepped out of the elevator, and moved toward the art-gallery. "Itused to make me so unhappy, " she went on. "I tried to talk to myhusband about it, but he wouldn't have it. 'I don't see why you can'tbe like other people, ' he said--he's always repeating that to me. Andwhat could I say?"

"Why not suggest that other people might be like you?" said the man, laughing. 

"I wasn't clever enough, " said she, regretfully. --"It's very hard for awoman, you know--with no one to understand. Once I went down to asettlement, to see what that was like. Do you know anything aboutsettlements?"

"Nothing at all, " said Montague. 

"Well, they are people who go to live among the poor, and try to reformthem. It takes a terrible lot of courage, I think. I give them moneynow and then, but I am never sure if it does any good. The trouble withpoor people, it seems to me, is that there are so many of them. "

"There are, indeed, " said Montague, thinking of the vision he had seenfrom Oliver's racing-car. 

Mrs. Winnie had seated herself upon a cushioned seat near the entranceto the darkened gallery. "I haven't been there for some time, " shecontinued. "I've discovered something that I think appeals more to mytemperament. I have rather a leaning toward the occult and themystical, I'm afraid. Did you ever hear of the Babists?"

"No, " said Montague. 

"Well, that's a religious sect--from Persia, I think--and they arequite the rage. They are priests, you understand, and they givelectures, and teach you all about the immanence of the divine, andabout reincarnation, and Karma, and all that. Do you believe any ofthose things?"

"I can't say that I know about them, " said he. 

"It is very beautiful and strange, " added the other. "It makes yourealize what a perplexing thing life is. They teach you how theuniverse is all one, and the soul is the only reality, and so bodilythings don't matter. If I were a Babist, I believe that I could behappy, even if I had to work in a cotton-mill. "

Then Mrs. Winnie rose up suddenly. "You'd rather look at the pictures, I know, " she said; and she pressed a button, and a soft radianceflooded the great vaulted gallery. 

"This is our chief pride in life, " she said. "My husband's object hasbeen to get one representative work of each of the great painters ofthe world. We got their masterpiece whenever we could. Over there inthe corner are the old masters--don't you love to look at them?"

Montague would have liked to look at them very much; but he felt thathe would rather it were some time when he did not have Mrs. Winnie byhis side. Mrs. Winnie must have had to show the gallery quitefrequently; and now her mind was still upon the Persiantranscendentalists. 

"That picture of the saint is a Botticelli, " she said. "And do youknow, the orange-coloured robe always makes me think of the swami. Thatis my teacher, you know--Swami Babubanana. And he has the mostbeautiful delicate hands, and great big brown eyes, so soft andgentle--for all the world like those of the gazelles in our place downSouth!"

Thus Mrs. Winnie, as she roamed from picture to picture, while thesouls of the grave old masters looked down upon her in silence. 

CHAPTER VI

Montague had now been officially pronounced complete by his tailor; andReval had sent home the first of Alice's street gowns, elaboratelyplain, but fitting her conspicuously, and costing accordingly. So thenext morning they were ready to be taken to call upon Mrs. Devon. 

Of course Montague had heard of the Devons, but he was not sufficientlyinitiated to comprehend just what it meant to be asked to call. Butwhen Oliver came in, a little before noon, and proceeded to examine hiscostume and to put him to rights, and insisted that Alice should haveher hair done over, he began to realize that this was a specialoccasion. Oliver was in quite a state of excitement; and after they hadleft the hotel, and were driving up the Avenue, he explained to themthat their future in Society depended upon the outcome of this visit. Calling upon Mrs. Devon, it seemed, was the American equivalent tobeing presented at court. For twenty-five years this grand lady hadbeen the undisputed mistress of the Society of the metropolis; and ifshe liked them, they would be invited to her annual ball, which tookplace in January, and then for ever after their position would beassured. Mrs. Devon's ball was the one great event of the social year;about one thousand people were asked, while ten thousand disappointedones gnashed their teeth in outer darkness. 

All of which threw Alice into a state of trepidation. 

"Suppose we don't suit her!" she said. 

To that the other replied that their way had been made smooth by ReggieMann, who was one of Mrs. Devon's favourites. 

A century and more ago the founder of the Devon line had come toAmerica, and invested his savings in land on Manhattan Island. Otherpeople had toiled and built a city there, and generation aftergeneration of the Devons had sat by and collected the rents, until nowtheir fortune amounted to four or five hundred millions of dollars. They were the richest old family in America, and the most famous; andin Mrs. Devon, the oldest member of the line, was centred all itssocial majesty and dominion. She lived a stately and formal life, precisely like a queen; no one ever saw her save upon her raised chairof state, and she wore her jewels even at breakfast. She was thearbiter of social destinies, and the breakwater against which thefloods of new wealth beat in vain. Reggie Mann told wonderful talesabout the contents of her enormous mail--about wives and daughters ofmighty rich men who flung themselves at her feet and pleaded abjectlyfor her favour--who laid siege to her house for months, and intriguedand pulled wires to get near her, and even bought the favour of herservants! If Reggie might be believed, great financial wars had beenfought, and the stock-markets of the world convulsed more than once, because of these social struggles; and women of wealth and beauty hadoffered to sell themselves for the privilege which was so freelygranted to them. 

They came to the old family mansion and rang the bell, and the solemnbutler ushered them past the grand staircase and into the frontreception-room to wait. Perhaps five minutes later he came in androlled back the doors, and they stood up, and beheld a withered oldlady, nearly eighty years of age, bedecked with diamonds and seatedupon a sort of throne. They approached, and Oliver introduced them, andthe old lady held out a lifeless hand; and then they sat down. 

Mrs. Devon asked them a few questions as to how much of New York theyhad seen, and how they liked it, and whom they had met; but most of thetime she simply looked them over, and left the making of conversationto Oliver. As for Montague, he sat, feeling perplexed anduncomfortable, and wondering, deep down in him, whether it could reallybe America in which this was happening. 

"You see, " Oliver explained to them, when they were seated in theircarriage again, "her mind is failing, and it's really quite difficultfor her to receive. "

"I'm glad I don't have to call on her more than once, " was Alice'scomment. "When do we know the verdict?"

"When you get a card marked 'Mrs. Devon at home, '" said Oliver. And hewent on to tell them about the war which had shaken Society long ago, when the mighty dame had asserted her right to be "Mrs. Devon, " and theonly "Mrs. Devon. " He told them also about her wonderful dinner-set ofchina, which had cost thirty thousand dollars, and was as fragile as ahumming-bird's wing. Each piece bore her crest, and she had a chinaexpert to attend to washing and packing it--no common hand was everallowed to touch it. He told them, also, how Mrs. Devon's housekeeperhad wrestled for so long, trying to teach the maids to arrange thefurniture in the great reception-rooms precisely as the mistressordered; until finally a complete set of photographs had been taken, sothat the maids might do their work by chart. 

Alice went back to the hotel, for Mrs. Robbie Walling was to call andtake her home to lunch; and Montague and his brother strolled round toReggie Mann's apartments, to report upon their visit. 

Reggie received them in a pair of pink silk pyjamas, decorated withribbons and bows, and with silk-embroidered slippers, set withpearls--a present from a feminine adorer. Montague noticed, to hisdismay, that the little man wore a gold bracelet upon one arm! Heexplained that he had led a cotillion the night before--or rather thismorning; he had got home at five o'clock. He looked quite white andtired, and there were the remains of a breakfast of brandy-and-soda onthe table. 

"Did you see the old girl?" he asked. "And how does she hold up?"

"She's game, " said Oliver. 

"I had the devil's own time getting you in, " said the other. "It'sgetting harder every day. "

"You'll excuse me, " Reggie added, "if I get ready. I have anengagement. " And he turned to his dressing-table, which was coveredwith an array of cosmetics and perfumes, and proceeded, in amatter-of-fact way, to paint his face. Meanwhile his valet was flittingsilently here and there, getting ready his afternoon costume; andMontague, in spite of himself, followed the man with his eyes. Ahaberdasher's shop might have been kept going for quite a while uponthe contents of Reggie's dressers. His clothing was kept in a roomadjoining the dressing-room; Montague, who was near the door, could seethe rosewood wardrobes, each devoted to a separate article ofclothing-shirts, for instance, laid upon sliding racks, tier upon tierof them, of every material and colour. There was a closet fitted withshelves and equipped like a little shoe store--high shoes and lowshoes, black ones, brown ones, and white ones, and each fitted over alast to keep its shape perfect. These shoes were all made to orderaccording to Reggie's designs, and three or-four times a year there wasa cleaning out, and those which had gone out of fashion became the preyof his "man. " There was a safe in one closet, in which Reggie'sjewellery was kept. 

The dressing-room was furnished like a lady's boudoir, the furnitureupholstered with exquisite embroidered silk, and the bed hung withcurtains of the same material. There was a huge bunch of roses on thecentre-table, and the odour of roses hung heavy in the room. 

The valet stood at attention with a rack of neckties, from which Reggiecritically selected one to match his shirt. "Are you going to takeAlice with you down to the Havens's?" he was asking; and he added, "You'll meet Vivie Patton down there--she's had another row at home. "

"You don't say so!" exclaimed Oliver. 

"Yes, " said the other. "Frank waited up all night for her, and he weptand tore his hair and vowed he would kill the Count. Vivie told him togo to hell. "

"Good God!" said Oliver. "Who told you that?"

"The faithful Alphonse, " said Reggie, nodding toward his valet. "Hermaid told him. And Frank vows he'll sue--I half expected to see it inthe papers this morning. "

"I met Vivie on the street yesterday, " said Oliver. "She looked aschipper as ever. "

Reggie shrugged his shoulders. "Have you seen this week's paper?" heasked. "They've got another of Ysabel's suppressed poems in. "--And thenhe turned toward Montague to explain that "Ysabel" was the pseudonym ofa young débutante who had fallen under the spell of Baudelaire andWilde, and had published a volume of poems of such furious eroticismthat her parents were buying up stray copies at fabulous prices. 

Then the conversation turned to the Horse Show, and for quite a whilethey talked about who was going to wear what. Finally Oliver rose, saying that they would have to get a bite to eat before leaving for theHavens's. "You'll have a good time, " said Reggie. "I'd have gonemyself, only I promised to stay and help Mrs. De Graffenried design adinner. So long!"

Montague had heard nothing about the visit to the Havens's; but now, asthey strolled down the Avenue, Oliver explained that they were to spendthe weekend at Castle Havens. There was quite a party going up thisFriday afternoon, and they would find one of the Havens's private carswaiting. They had nothing to do meantime, for their valets would attendto their packing, and Alice and her maid would meet them at the depot. 

"Castle Havens is one of the show places of the country, " Oliver added. "You'll see the real thing this time. " And while they lunched, he wenton to entertain his brother with particulars concerning the place andits owners. John had inherited the bulk of the enormous Havens fortune, and he posed as his father's successor in the Steel Trust. Some daysome one of the big men would gobble him up; meantime he amused himselffussing over the petty details of administration. Mrs. Havens had takena fancy to a rural life, and they had built this huge palace in thehills of Connecticut, and she wrote verses in which she picturedherself as a simple shepherdess--and all that sort of stuff. But no oneminded that, because the place was grand, and there was always so muchto do. They had forty or fifty polo ponies, for instance, and everyspring the place was filled with polo men. 

At the depot they caught sight of Charlie Carter, in his big redtouring-car. "Are you going to the Havens's?" he said. "Tell them we'regoing to pick up Chauncey on the way. "

"That's Chauncey Venable, the Major's nephew, " said Oliver, as theystrolled to the train. "Poor Chauncey--he's in exile!"

"How do you mean?" asked Montague. 

"Why, he daren't come into New York, " said the other. "Haven't you readabout it in the papers? He lost one or two hundred thousand the othernight in a gambling place, and the district attorney's trying to catchhim. "

"Does he want to put him in jail?" asked Montague. 

"Heavens, no!" said Oliver. "Put a Venable in jail? He wants him for awitness against the gambler; and poor Chauncey is flitting about thecountry hiding with his friends, and wailing because he'll miss theHorse Show. "

They boarded the palatial private car, and were introduced to a numberof other guests. Among them was Major Venable; and while Oliver buriedhimself in the new issue of the fantastic-covered society journal, which contained the poem of the erotic "Ysabel, " his brother chattedwith the Major. The latter had taken quite a fancy to the big handsomestranger, to whom everything in the city was so new and interesting. "

"Tell me what you thought of the Snow Palace, " said he. "I've an ideathat Mrs. Winnie's got quite a crush on you. You'll find her dangerous, my boy--she'll make you pay for your dinners before you get through!"

After the train was under way, the Major got himself surrounded withsome apollinaris and Scotch, and then settled back to enjoy himself. "Did you see the 'drunken kid' at the ferry?" he asked. "(That's whatour abstemious district attorney terms my precious youngheir-apparent. ) You'll meet him at the Castle--the Havens are good tohim. They know how it feels, I guess; when John was a youngster hispiratical uncle had to camp in Jersey for six months or so, to escapethe strong arm of the law. "

"Don't you know about it?" continued the Major, sipping at hisbeverage. "Sic transit gloria mundi! That was when the great CaptainKidd Havens was piling up the millions which his survivors are spendingwith such charming insouciance. He was plundering a railroad, and theoriginal progenitor of the Wallings tried to buy the control away fromhim, and Havens issued ten or twenty millions of new stock overnight, in the face of a court injunction, and got away with most of his money. It reads like opera bouffe, you know--they had a regular armed campacross the river for about six months--until Captain Kidd went up toAlbany with half a million dollars' worth of greenbacks in a satchel, and induced the legislature to legalize the proceedings. That was justafter the war, you know, but I remember it as if it were yesterday. Itseems strange to think that anyone shouldn't know about it. "

"I know about Havens in a general way, " said Montague. 

"Yes, " said the Major. "But I know in a particular way, because I'vecarried some of that railroad's paper all these years, and it's neverpaid any dividends since. It has a tendency to interfere with myappreciation of John's lavish hospitality. "

Montague was reminded of the story of the Roman emperor who pointed outthat money had no smell. 

"Maybe not, " said the Major. "But all the same, if you weresuperstitious, you might make out an argument from the Havens fortune. Take that poor girl who married the Count. "

And the Major went on to picture the denouement of that famousinternational alliance, which, many years ago, had been the sensationof two continents. All Society had attended the gorgeous wedding, anarchbishop had performed the ceremony, and the newspapers had devotedpages to describing the gowns and the jewels and the presents and allthe rest of the magnificence. And the Count was a wretched littledegenerate, who beat and kicked his wife, and flaunted his mistressesin her face, and wasted fourteen million dollars of her money in acouple of years. The mind could scarcely follow the orgies of thishalf-insane creature--he had spent two hundred thousand dollars on abanquet, and half as much again for a tortoise-shell wardrobe in whichLouis the Sixteenth had kept his clothes! He had charged a diamondnecklace to his wife, and taken two of the four rows of diamonds out ofit before he presented it to her! He had paid a hundred thousanddollars a year to a jockey whom the Parisian populace admired, and afortune for a palace in Verona, which he had promptly torn down, forthe sake of a few painted ceilings. The Major told about one outdoorfete, which he had given upon a sudden whim: ten thousand Venetianlanterns, ten thousand metres of carpet; three thousand gilded chairs, and two or three hundred waiters in fancy costumes; two palaces builtin a lake, with sea-horses and dolphins, and half a dozen orchestras, and several hundred chorus--girls from the Grand Opera! And in betweenadventures such as these, he bought a seat in the Chamber of Deputies, and made speeches and fought duels in defence of the Holy CatholicChurch--and wrote articles for the yellow journals of America. "Andthat's the fate of my lost dividends!" growled the Major. 

There were several automobiles to meet the party at the depot, and theywere whirled through a broad avenue up a valley, and past a littlelake, and so to the gates of Castle Havens. 

It was a tremendous building, a couple of hundred feet long. Oneentered into a main hall, perhaps fifty feet wide, with a greatfireplace arid staircase of marble and bronze, and furniture of gildedwood and crimson velvet, and a huge painting, covering three of thewalls, representing the Conquest of Peru. Each of the rooms wasfurnished in the style of a different period--one Louis Quatorze, oneLouis Quinze, one Marie Antoinette, and so on. There was a drawing-roomand a regal music-room; a dining-room in the Georgian style, and abilliard-room, also in the English fashion, with high wainscoting andopen beams in the ceiling; and a library, and a morning-room andconservatory. Upstairs in the main suite of rooms was a royal bedstead, which alone was rumoured to have cost twenty-five thousand dollars; andyou might have some idea of the magnificence of things when you learnedthat underneath the gilding of the furniture was the rare and preciousCircassian walnut. 

All this was beautiful. But what brought the guests to Castle Havenswas the casino, so the Major had remarked. It was really a privateathletic club--with tan-bark hippodrome, having a ring the size of thatin Madison Square Garden, and a skylight roof, and thirty or fortyarc-lights for night events. There were bowling-alleys, billiard andlounging-rooms, hand-ball, tennis and racket-courts, a completelyequipped gymnasium, a shooting-gallery, and a swimming-pool withTurkish and Russian baths. In this casino alone there were rooms forforty guests. 

Such was Castle Havens; it had cost three or four millions of dollars, and within the twelve-foot wall which surrounded its grounds lived twoworld-weary people who dreaded nothing so much as to be alone. Therewere always guests, and on special occasions there might be three orfour score. They went whirling about the country in their autos; theyrode and drove; they played games, outdoor and indoor, or gambled, orlounged and chatted, or wandered about at their own sweet will. Comingto one of these places was not different from staying at a great hotel, save that the company was selected, and instead of paying a bill, yougave twenty or thirty dollars to the servants when you left. 

It was a great palace of pleasure, in which beautiful and graceful menand women played together in all sorts of beautiful and graceful ways. In the evenings great logs blazed in the fireplace in the hall, andthere might be an informal dance--there was always music at hand. Nowand then there would be a stately ball, with rich gowns and flashingjewels, and the grounds ablaze with lights, and a full orchestra, andspecial trains from the city. Or a whole theatrical company would bebrought down to give an entertainment in the theatre; or a minstrelshow, or a troupe of acrobats, or a menagerie of trained animals. Orperhaps there would be a great pianist, or a palmist, or a trancemedium. Anyone at all would be welcome who could bring a new thrill--itmattered nothing at all, though the price might be several hundreddollars a minute. 

Montague shook hands with his host and hostess, and with a number ofothers; among them Billy Price who forthwith challenged him, andcarried him off to the shooting-gallery. Here he took a rifle, andproceeded to satisfy her as to his skill. This brought him to thenotice of Siegfried Harvey, who was a famous cross-country rider and"polo-man. " Harvey's father owned a score of copper-mines, and hadnamed him after a race-horse; he was a big broad-shouldered fellow, afavourite of every one; and next morning, when he found that Montaguesat a horse like one who was born to it, he invited him to come out tohis place on Long Island, and see some of the fox-hunting. 

Then, after he had dressed for dinner, Montague came downstairs, andfound Betty Wyman, shining like Aurora in an orange-coloured cloud. Sheintroduced him to Mrs. Vivie Patton, who was tall and slender andfascinating, and had told her husband to go to hell. Mrs. Vivie hadblack eyes that snapped and sparkled, and she was a geyser of animationin a perpetual condition of eruption. Montague wondered if she wouldhave talked with him so gaily had she known what he knew about herdomestic entanglements. 

The company moved into the dining-room, where there was served anotherof those elaborate and enormously expensive meals which he concluded hewas fated to eat for the rest of his life. Only, instead of Mrs. BillyAlden with her Scotch, there was Mrs. Vivie, who drank champagne interrifying quantities; and afterward there was the inevitable groupingof the bridge fiends. 

Among the guests there was a long-haired and wild-looking foreignpersonage, who was the "lion" of the evening, and sat with half a dozenadmiring women about him. Now he was escorted to the music-room, andrevealed the fact that he was a violin virtuoso. He played what wascalled "salon music"--music written especially for ladies and gentlemento listen to after dinner; and also a strange contrivance called aconcerto, put together to enable the player to exhibit within a briefspace the utmost possible variety of finger gymnastics. To learn toperform these feats one had to devote his whole lifetime to practisingthem, just like any circus acrobat; and so his mind became atrophied, and a naive and elemental vanity was all that was left to him. 

Montague stood for a while staring; and then took to watching thecompany, who chattered and laughed all through the performance. Afterward, he strolled into the billiard-room, where Billy Price andChauncey Venable were having an exciting bout; and from there to thesmoking-room, where the stout little Major had gotten a group of youngbloods about him to play "Klondike. " This was a game of deadly hazards, which they played without limit; the players themselves were silent andimpassive, but the spectators who gathered about were tense withexcitement. 

In the morning Charlie Carter carried off Alice and Oliver and Betty inhis auto; and Montague spent his time in trying some of Havens'sjumping horses. The Horse Show was to open in New York on Monday, andthere was an atmosphere of suppressed excitement because of thisprospect; Mrs. Caroline Smythe, a charming young widow, strolled aboutwith him and told him all about this Show, and the people who wouldtake part in it. 

And in the afternoon Major Venable took him for a stroll and showed himthe grounds. He had been told what huge sums had been expended inlaying them out; but after all, the figures were nothing compared withan actual view. There were hills and slopes, and endless vistas ofgreen lawns and gardens, dotted with the gleaming white of marblestaircases and fountains and statuary. There was a great Italian walk, leading by successive esplanades to an electric fountain with a basinsixty feet across, and a bronze chariot and marble horses. There weresunken gardens, with a fountain brought from the South of France, andGreek peristyles, and seats of marble, and vases and other treasures ofart. 

And then there were the stables; a huge Renaissance building, with aperfectly equipped theatre above. There was a model farm and dairy; apolo-field, and an enclosed riding-ring for the children; anddog-kennels and pigeon-houses, greenhouses and deer-parks--one wasprepared for bear-pits and a menagerie. Finally, on their way back, they passed the casino, where musical chimes pealed out thequarter-hours. Montague stopped and gazed up at the tower from whichthe sounds had come. 

The more he gazed, the more he found to gaze at The roof of thisbuilding had many gables, in the Queen Anne style; and from the midstof them shot up the tower, which was octagonal and solid, suggestive ofthe Normans. It was decorated with Christmas-wreaths in white stucco, and a few miscellaneous ornaments like the gilded tassels one sees uponplush curtains. Overtopping all of this was the dome of a Turkishmosque. Rising out of the dome was something that looked like adove-cot; and out of this rose the slender white steeple of a Methodistcountry church. On top of that was a statue of Diana. 

"What are you looking at?" asked the Major. 

"Nothing, " said Montague, as he moved on. "Has there ever been anyinsanity in the Havens family?"

"I don't know, " replied the other, puzzled. "They say the old man nevercould sleep at night, and used to wander about alone in the park. Isuppose he had things on his conscience. "

They strolled away; and the Major's flood-gates of gossip were opened. There was an old merchant in New York, who had been Havens's privatesecretary. And Havens was always in terror of assassination, and sowhenever they travelled abroad he and the secretary exchanged places. "The old man is big and imposing, " said the Major, "and it's funny tohear him tell how he used to receive the visitors and be stared at bythe crowds, while Havens, who was little and insignificant, wouldpretend to make himself useful. And then one day a wild-lookingcreature came into the Havens office, and began tearing the wrappingsoff some package that shone like metal--and quick as a flash he andHavens flung themselves down on the floor upon their faces. Then, asnothing happened, they looked up, and saw the puzzled stranger gazingover the railing at them. He had a patent churn, made of copper, whichhe wanted Havens to market for him!"

Montague could have wished that this party might last for a week ortwo, instead of only two days. He was interested in the life, and inthose who lived it; all whom he met were people prominent in the socialworld, and some in the business world as well, and one could not haveasked a better chance to study them. 

Montague was taking his time and feeling his way slowly. But all thetime that he was playing and gossiping he never lost from mind his realpurpose, which was to find a place for himself in the world of affairs;and he watched for people from whose conversation he could get a viewof this aspect of things. So he was interested when Mrs. Smytheremarked that among his fellow-guests was Vandam, an official of one ofthe great life-insurance companies. "Freddie" Vandam, as the ladycalled him, was a man of might in the financial world; and Montaguesaid to himself that in meeting him he would really be accomplishingsomething. Crack shots and polo-players and four-in-hand experts wereall very well, but he had his living to earn, and he feared that theproblem was going to prove complicated. 

So he was glad when chance brought him and young Vandam together, andSiegfried Harvey introduced them. And then Montague got the biggestshock which New York had given him yet. 

It was not what Freddie Vandam said; doubtless he had a right to beinterested in the Horse Show, since he was to exhibit many fine horses, and he had no reason to feel called upon to talk about anything moreserious to a stranger at a house party. But it was the manner of theman, his whole personality. For Freddie was a man of fashion, with allthe exaggerated and farcical mannerisms of the dandy of the comicpapers. He wore a conspicuous and foppish costume, and posed with alittle cane; he cultivated a waving pompadour, and his silky moustacheand beard were carefully trimmed to points, and kept sharp by hisactive fingers. His conversation was full of French phrases and Frenchopinions; he had been reared abroad, and had a whole-souled contemptfor all things American-even dictating his business letters in French, and leaving it for his stenographer to translate them. His shirts wereembroidered with violets and perfumed with violets--and there werebunches of violets at his horses' heads, so that he might get the odouras he drove!

There was a cruel saying about Freddie Vandam--that if only he had hada little more brains, he would have been half-witted. And Montague sat, and watched his mannerisms and listened to his inanities, with his mindin a state of bewilderment and dismay. When at last he got up andwalked away, it was with a new sense of the complicated nature of theproblem that confronted him. Who was there that could give him the keyto this mystery--who could interpret to him a world in which a man suchas this was in control of four or five hundred millions of trust funds?

CHAPTER VII

It was quite futile to attempt to induce anyone to talk about seriousmatters just now--for the coming week all Society belonged to thehorse. The parties which went to church on Sunday morning talked abouthorses on the way, and the crowds that gathered in front of the churchdoor to watch them descend from their automobiles, and to get "points"on their conspicuous costumes--these would read about horses allafternoon in the Sunday papers, and about the gowns which the womenwould wear at the show. 

Some of the party went up on Sunday evening; Montague went with therest on Monday morning, and had lunch with Mrs. Robbie Walling andOliver and Alice. They had arrayed him in a frock coat and silk hat andfancy "spats"; and they took him and sat him in the front row ofRobbie's box. 

There was a great tan-bark arena, in which the horses performed; andthen a railing, and a broad promenade for the spectators; and then, raised a few feet above, the boxes in which sat all Society. For theHorse Show had now become a great social function. Last year a visitingforeign prince had seen fit to attend it, and this year "everybody"would come. 

Montague was rapidly getting used to things; he observed with a smilehow easy it was to take for granted embroidered bed and table linen, and mural paintings, and private cars, and gold plate. At first it hadseemed to him strange to be waited upon by a white woman, and by awhite man quite unthinkable; but he was becoming accustomed to havingsilent and expressionless lackeys everywhere about him, attending tohis slightest want. So he presumed that if he waited long enough, hemight even get used to horses which had their tails cut off to stumps, and their manes to rows of bristles, and which had been taught to lifttheir feet in strange and eccentric ways, and were driven with burredbits in their mouths to torture them and make them step lively. 

There were road-horses, coach-horses, saddle-horses and hunters, polo-ponies, stud-horses--every kind of horse that is used forpleasure, over a hundred different "classes" of them. They were putthrough their paces about the ring, and there was a committee whichjudged them, and awarded blue and red ribbons. Apparently their highlyartificial kind of excellence was a real thing to the people who tookpart in the show; for the spectators thrilled with excitement, andapplauded the popular victors. There was a whole set of conventionswhich were generally understood--there was even a new language. Youwere told that these "turnouts" were "nobby" and "natty"; they were"swagger" and "smart" and "swell. "

However, the horse was really a small part of this show; before one hadsat out an afternoon he realized that the function was in reality ashow of Society. For six or seven hours during the day the broadpromenade would be so packed with human beings that one moved aboutwith difficulty; and this throng gazed towards the ring almostnever--it stared up into the boxes. All the year round the discontentedmillions of the middle classes read of the doings of the "smart set";and here they had a chance to come and see them-alive, and real, anddressed in their showiest costumes. Here was all the grand monde, innumbered boxes, and with their names upon the programmes, so that onecould get them straight. Ten thousand people from other cities had cometo New York on purpose to get a look. Women who lived inboarding-houses and made their own clothes, had come to get hints; allthe dressmakers in town were present for the same purpose.. Societyreporters had come, with notebooks in hand; and next morning theimitators of Society all over the United States would read about it, insuch fashion as this: "Mrs. Chauncey Venable was becomingly gowned inmauve cloth, made with an Eton jacket trimmed with silk braid, andopening over a chemisette of lace. Her hat was of the same colour, draped with a great quantity of mauve and orange tulle, and surmountedwith birds of paradise to match. Her furs were silver fox. "

The most intelligent of the great metropolitan dailies would printcolumns of this sort of material; and as for the "yellow" journals, they would have discussions of the costumes by "experts, " and half apage of pictures of the most conspicuous of the box-holders. WhileMontague sat talking with Mrs. Walling, half a dozen cameras weresnapped at them; and once a young man with a sketch-book placed himselfin front of them and went placidly to work. --Concerning such things thesociety dame had three different sets of emotions: first, the one whichshe showed in public, that of bored and contemptuous indifference;second, the one which she expressed to her friends, that of outragedbut helpless indignation; and third, the one which she really felt, that of triumphant exultation over her rivals, whose pictures were notpublished and whose costumes were not described. 

It was a great dress parade of society women. One who wished to play aproper part in it would spend at least ten thousand dollars upon hercostumes for the week. It was necessary to have a different gown forthe afternoon and evening of each day; and some, who were adepts atquick changes and were proud of it, would wear three or four a day, andso need a couple of dozen gowns for the show. And of course there hadto be hats and shoes and gloves to match. There would be robes ofpriceless fur hung carelessly over the balcony to make a setting; andin the evening there would be pyrotechnical displays of jewels. Mrs. Virginia Landis wore a pair of simple pearl earrings, which she toldthe reporters had cost twenty thousand dollars; and there were twowomen who displayed four hundred thousand dollars' worth ofdiamonds--and each of them had hired a detective to hover about in thecrowd and keep watch over her!

Nor must one suppose, because the horse was an inconspicuous part ofthe show, that he was therefore an inexpensive part. One man was to beseen here driving a four-in-hand of black stallions which had costforty thousand; there were other men who drove only one horse, and hadpaid forty thousand for that. Half a million was a moderate estimate ofthe cost of the "string" which some would exhibit. And of course thesehorses were useless, save for show purposes, and to breed other horseslike them. Many of them never went out of their stables except forexercise upon a track; and the cumbrous and enormous; expensive coacheswere never by any possibility used elsewhere--when they were taken fromplace to place they seldom went upon their own wheels. 

And there were people here who made their chief occupation in life thewinning of blue ribbons at these shows. They kept great country estatesespecially for the horses, and had private indoor exhibition rings. Robbie Walling and Chauncey Venable were both such people; in thesummer of next year another of the Wallings took a string across thewater to teach the horse-show game to Society in London. He took twentyor thirty horses, under the charge of an expert manager and a dozenassistants; he sent sixteen different kinds of carriages, and two greatcoaches, and a ton of harness and other stuff. It required one wholedeck of a steamer, and the expedition enabled him to get rid of sixhundred thousand dollars. 

All through the day, of course, Robbie was down in the ring with histrainers and his competitors, and Montague sat and kept his wifecompany. There was a steady stream of visitors, who came tocongratulate her upon their successes, and to commiserate with Mrs. Chauncey Venable over the sufferings of the un-happy victim of anotoriety-seeking district attorney. 

There was just one drawback to the Horse Show, as Montague gatheredfrom the conversation that went on among the callers: it was public, and there was no way to prevent undesirable people from taking part. There were, it appeared, hordes of rich people in New York who were notin Society, and of whose existence Society was haughtily unaware; butthese people might enter horses and win prizes, and even rent a box andexhibit their clothes. And they might induce the reporters to mentionthem--and of course the ignorant populace did not know the difference, and stared at them just as hard as at Mrs. Robbie or Mrs. Winnie. Andso for a whole blissful week these people had all the sensations ofbeing in Society! "It won't be very long before that will kill theHorse Show, " said Mrs. Vivie Patton, with a snap of her black eyes. 

There was Miss Yvette Simpkins, for instance; Society frothed at themouth when her name was mentioned. Miss Yvette was the niece of astock-broker who was wealthy, and she thought that she was in Society, and the foolish public thought so, too. Miss Yvette made a specialityof newspaper publicity; you were always seeing her picture, with somenew "Worth creation, " and the picture would be labelled "Miss YvetteSimpkins, the best-dressed woman in New York, " or "Miss YvetteSimpkins, who is known as the best woman whip in Society. " It was saidthat Miss Yvette, who was short and stout, and had a rosy German face, had paid five thousand dollars at one clip for photographs of herselfin a new wardrobe; and her pictures were sent to the newspapers inbundles of a dozen at a time. Miss Yvette possessed over a milliondollars' worth of diamonds--the finest in the country, according to thenewspapers; she had spent a hundred and twenty-six thousand dollarsthis year upon her clothes, and she gave long interviews, in which sheset forth the fact that a woman nowadays could not really be welldressed upon less than a hundred thousand a year. It was Miss Yvette'sboast that she had never ridden in a street-car in her life. 

Montague always had a soft spot in his heart for the unfortunate MissYvette, who laboured so hard to be a guiding light; for it chanced tobe while she was in the ring, exhibiting her skill in driving tandem, that he met with a fateful encounter. Afterward, when he came to lookback upon these early days, it seemed strange to him that he shouldhave gone about this place, so careless and unsuspecting, while thefates were weaving strange destinies about him. 

It was on Tuesday afternoon, and he sat in the box of Mrs. Venable, asister-in-law of the Major. The Major, who was a care-free bachelor, was there himself, and also Betty Wyman, who was making sprightlycomments on the passers-by; and there strolled into the box Chappie dePeyster, accompanied by a young lady. 

So many people had stopped and been introduced and then passed on, thatMontague merely glanced at her once. He noticed that she was tall andgraceful, and caught her name, Miss Hegan. 

The turnouts in the ring consisted of one horse harnessed in front ofanother; and Montague was wondering what conceivable motive couldinduce a human being to hitch and drive horses in that fashion. Theconversation turned upon Miss Yvette, who was in the ring; and Bettyremarked upon the airy grace with which she wielded the long whip shecarried. "Did you see what the paper said about her this morning?" sheasked. "' Miss Simpkins was exquisitely clad in purple velvet, ' and soon! She looked for all the world like the Venus at the Hippodrome!"

"Why isn't she in Society?" asked Montague, curiously. 

"She!" exclaimed Betty. "Why, she's a travesty!"

There was a moment's pause, preceding a remark by their young ladyvisitor. "I've an idea, " said she, "that the real reason she never gotinto Society was that she was fond of her old father. "

And Montague gave a short glance at the speaker, who was gazing fixedlyinto the ring. He heard the Major chuckle, and he thought that he heardBetty Wyman give a little sniff. A few moments later the young ladyarose, and with some remark to Mrs. Venable about how well her costumebecame her, she passed on out of the box. 

"Who is that?" asked Montague. 

"That, " the Major answered, "that's Laura Hegan--Jim Hegan's daughter. "

"Oh!" said Montague, and caught his breath. Jim Hegan--Napoleon offinance--czar of a gigantic system of railroads, and the power behindthe political thrones of many states. 

"His only daughter, too, " the Major added. "Gad, what a juicy morselfor somebody!"

"Well, she'll make him pay for all he gets, whoever he is!" retortedBetty, vindictively. 

"You don't like her?" inquired Montague; and Betty replied promptly, "Ido not!"

"Her daddy and Betty's granddaddy are always at swords' points, " put inMajor Venable. 

"I have nothing to do with my granddaddy's quarrels, " said the younglady. "I have troubles enough of my own. "

"What is the matter with Miss Hegan?" asked Montague, laughing. 

"She's an idea she's too good for the world she lives in, " said Betty. "When you're with her, you feel as you will before the judgment throne. "

"Undoubtedly a disturbing feeling, " put in the Major. 

"She never hands you anything but you find a pin hidden in it, " went onthe girl. "All her remarks are meant to be read backward, and my lifeis too short to straighten out their kinks. I like a person to say whatthey mean in plain English, and then I can either like them or not. "

"Mostly not, " said the Major, grimly; and added, "Anyway, she'sbeautiful. "

"Perhaps, " said the other. "So is the Jungfrau; but I prefer somethingmore comfortable. "

"What's Chappie de Peyster beauing her around for?" asked Mrs. Venable. "Is he a candidate?"

"Maybe his debts are troubling him again, " said Mistress Betty. "Hemust be in a desperate plight. --Did you hear how Jack Audubon proposedto her?"

"Did Jack propose?" exclaimed the Major. 

"Of course he did, " said the girl. "His brother told me. " Then, forMontague's benefit, she explained, "Jack Audubon is the Major's nephew, and he's a bookworm, and spends all his time collecting scarabs. "

"What did he say to her?" asked the Major, highly amused. 

"Why, " said Betty, "he told her he knew she didn't love him; but alsoshe knew that he didn't care anything about her money, and she mightlike to marry him so that other men would let her alone. "

"Gad!" cried the old gentleman, slapping his knee. "A masterpiece!"

"Does she have so many suitors?" asked Montague; and the Major replied, "My dear boy--she'll have a hundred million dollars some day!"

At this point Oliver put in appearance, and Betty got up and went for astroll with him; then Montague asked for light upon Miss Hegan's remark. 

"What she said is perfectly true, " replied the Major; "only it riledBetty. There's many a gallant dame cruising the social seas who hasstowed her old relatives out of sight in the hold. "

"What's the matter with old Simpkins?" asked the other. 

"Just a queer boy, " was the reply. "He has a big pile, and his one joyin life is the divine Yvette. It is really he who makes herridiculous--he has a regular press agent for her, a chap he loads upwith jewellery and cheques whenever he gets her picture into thepapers. "

The Major paused a moment to greet some acquaintance, and then resumedthe conversation. Apparently he could gossip in this intimate fashionabout any person whom you named. Old Simpkins had been very poor as aboy, it appeared, and he had never got over the memory of it. MissYvette spent fifty thousand at a clip for Paris gowns; but every dayher old uncle would save up the lumps of sugar which came with theexpensive lunch he had brought to his office. And when he had severalpounds he would send them home by messenger!

This conversation gave Montague a new sense of the complicatedness ofthe world into which he had come. Miss Simpkins was "impossible"; andyet there was--for instance--that Mrs. Landis whom he had met at Mrs. Winnie Duval's. He had met her several times at the show; and he heardthe Major and his sister-in-law chuckling over a paragraph in thesociety journal, to the effect that Mrs. Virginia van Rensselaer Landishad just returned from a successful hunting-trip in the far West. Hedid not see the humour of this, at least not until they had told him ofanother paragraph which had appeared some time before: stating thatMrs. Landis had gone to acquire residence in South Dakota, taking withher thirty-five trunks and a poodle; and that "Leanie" Hopkins, thehandsome young stock-broker, had taken a six months' vow of poverty, chastity, and obedience. 

And yet Mrs. Landis was "in" Society! And moreover, she spent nearly asmuch upon her clothes as Miss Yvette, and the clothes were quite asconspicuous; and if the papers did not print pages about them, it wasnot because Mrs. Landis was not perfectly willing. She was painted andmade up quite as frankly as any chorus-girl on the stage. She laughed agreat deal, and in a high key, and she and her friends told storieswhich made Montague wish to move out of the way. 

Mrs. Landis had for some reason taken a fancy to Alice, and invited herhome to lunch with her twice during the show. And after they had gothome in the evening, the girl sat upon the bed in her fur-trimmedwrapper, and told Montague and his mother and Mammy Lucy all about hervisit. 

"I don't believe that woman has a thing to do or to think about in theworld except to wear clothes!" she said. "Why, she has adjustablemirrors on ball-bearings, so that she can see every part of her skirts!And she gets all her gowns from Paris, four times a year--she saysthere are four seasons now, instead of two! I thought that my newclothes amounted to something, but my goodness, when I saw hers!"

Then Alice went on to describe the unpacking of fourteen trunks, whichhad just come up from the custom-house that day. Mrs. Virginia'scouturiere had her photograph and her colouring (represented in actualpaints) and a figure made up from exact measurements; and so every oneof the garments would fit her perfectly. Each one came stuffed withtissue paper and held in place by a lattice-work of tape; and attachedto each gown was a piece of the fabric, from which her shoemaker wouldmake shoes or slippers. There were street-costumes and opera-wraps, robes de chambre and tea-gowns, reception-dresses, and wonderful balland dinner gowns. Most of these latter were to be embroidered withjewellery before they were worn, and imitation jewels were sewn on, toshow how the real ones were to be placed. These garments were made ofreal lace or Parisian embroidery, and the prices paid for them werealmost impossible to credit. Some of them were made of lace so filmythat the women who made them had to sit in damp cellars, because thesunlight would dry the fine threads and they would break; a single yardof the lace represented forty days of labour. There was a pastel"batiste de soie" Pompadour robe, embroidered with cream silk flowers, which had cost one thousand dollars. There was a hat to go with it, which had cost a hundred and twenty-five, and shoes of greyantelope-skin, buckled with mother-of-pearl, which had cost forty. There was a gorgeous and intricate ball-dress of pale green chiffonsatin, with orchids embroidered in oxidized silver, and a long courttrain, studded with diamonds--and this had cost six thousand dollarswithout the jewels! And there was an auto-coat which had cost threethousand; and an opera-wrap made in Leipsic, of white unborn baby lamb, lined with ermine, which had cost twelve thousand--with a thousandadditional for a hat to match! Mrs. Landis thought nothing of payingthirty-five dollars for a lace handkerchief, or sixty dollars for apair of spun silk hose, or two hundred dollars for a pearl andgold-handled parasol trimmed with cascades of chiffon, and made, likeher hats, one for each gown. 

"And she insists that these things are worth the money, " said Alice. "She says it's not only the material in them, but the ideas. Eachcostume is a study, like a picture. 'I pay for the creative genius ofthe artist, ' she said to me--'for his ability to catch my ideas andapply them to my personality--my complexion and hair and eyes. Sometimes I design my own costumes, and so I know what hard work itis!'"

Mrs. Landis came from one of New York's oldest families, and she waswealthy in her own right; she had a palace on Fifth Avenue, and nowthat she had turned her husband out, she had nothing at all to put init except her clothes. Alice told about the places in which she keptthem--it was like a museum! There was a gown-room, made dust-proof, ofpolished hardwood, and with tier upon tier of long poles runningacross, and padded skirt-supporters hanging from them. Everywhere therewas order and system--each skirt was numbered, and in achiffonier-drawer of the same number you would find the waist--and soon with hats and stockings and gloves and shoes and parasols. There wasa row of closets, having shelves piled up with dainty lace-trimmed andberibboned lingerie; there were two closets full of hats and three ofshoes. "When she went West, " said Alice, "one of her maids counted, andfound that she had over four hundred pairs! And she actually has acabinet with a card-catalogue to keep track of them. And all theshelves are lined with perfumed silk sachets, and she has tiny sachetssewed in every skirt and waist; and she has her own privateperfume--she gave me some. She calls it Occur de Jeannette, and shesays she designed it herself, and had it patented!"

And then Alice went on to describe the maid's work-room, which was alsoof polished hardwood, and dust-proof, and had a balcony for brushingclothes, and wires upon which to hang them, and hot and cold water, anda big ironing-table and an electric stove. "But there can't be muchwork to do, " laughed the girl, "for she never wears a gown more thantwo or three times. Just think of paying several thousand dollars for acostume, and giving it to your poor relations after you have worn itonly twice! And the worst of it is that Mrs. Landis says it's allnothing unusual; you'll find such arrangements in every home of peoplewho are socially prominent. She says there are women who boast of neverappearing twice in the same gown, and there's one dreadful personage inBoston who wears each costume once, and then has it solemnly crematedby her butler!"

"It is wicked to do such things, " put in old Mrs. Montague, when shehad heard this tale through. "I don't see how people can get anypleasure out of it. "

"That's what I said, " replied Alice. 

"To whom did you say that?" asked Montague. "To Mrs. Landis?"

"No, " said Alice, "to a cousin of hers. I was downstairs waiting forher, and this girl came in. And we got to talking about it, and I saidthat I didn't think I could ever get used to such things. "

"What did she say?" asked the other. 

"She answered me strangely, " said the girl. "She's tall, and verystately, and I was a little bit afraid of her. She said, 'You'll getused to it. Everybody you know will be doing it, and if you try to dodifferently they'll take offence; and you won't have the courage to dowithout friends. You'll be meaning every day to stop, but you neverwill, and you'll go on until you die. '"

"What did you say to that?"

"Nothing, " answered Alice. "Just then Mrs. Landis came in, and MissHegan went away. "

"Miss Hegan?" echoed Montague. 

"Yes, " said the other. "That's her name--Laura Hegan. Have you met her?"

CHAPTER VIII

The Horse Show was held in Madison Square Garden, a building occupyinga whole city block. It seemed to Montague that during the four days heattended he was introduced to enough people to fill it to the doors. Each one of the exquisite ladies and gentlemen extended to him adelicately gloved hand, and remarked what perfect weather they werehaving, and asked him how long he had been in New York, and what hethought of it. Then they would talk about the horses, and about thepeople who were present, and what they had on. 

He saw little of his brother, who was squiring the Walling ladies mostof the time; and Alice, too, was generally separated from him and takencare of by others. Yet he was never alone--there was always some youngmatron ready to lead him to her carriage and whisk him away to lunch ordinner. 

Many times he wondered why people should be so kind to him, a stranger, and one who could do nothing for them in return. Mrs. Billy Aldenundertook to explain it to him, one afternoon, as he sat in her box. There had to be some people to enjoy, it appeared, or there would be nofun in the game. "Everything is new and strange to you, " said she, "andyou're delicious and refreshing; you make these women think perhapsthey oughtn't to be so bored after all! Here's a woman who's bought agreat painting; she's told that it's great, but she doesn't understandit herself--all she knows is that it cost her a hundred thousanddollars. And now you come along, and to you it's really a painting--anddon't you see how gratifying that is to her?"

"Oliver is always telling me it's bad form to admire, " said the man, laughing. 

"Yes?" said the other. "Well, don't you let that brother of yours spoilyou. There are more than enough of blase people in town--you beyourself. "

He appreciated the compliment, but added, "I'm afraid that when thenovelty is worn off, people will be tired of me. "

"You'll find your place, " said Mrs. Alden--"the people you like and wholike you. " And she went on to explain that here he was being passedabout among a number of very different "sets, " with different peopleand different tastes. Society had become split up in that manner oflate--each set being jealous and contemptuous of all the other sets. Because of the fact that they overlapped a little at the edges, it waspossible for him to meet here a great many people who never met eachother, and were even unaware of each other's existence. 

And Mrs. Alden went on to set forth the difference between these"sets"; they ran from the most exclusive down to the most "yellow, "where they shaded off into the disreputable rich--of whom, it seemed, there were hordes in the city. These included "sporting" and theatricaland political people, some of whom were very rich indeed; and thesesets in turn shaded off into the criminals and the demi-monde--whomight also easily be rich. "Some day, " said Mrs. Alden "you should getmy brother to tell you about all these people. He's been in politics, you know, and he has a racing-stable. "

And Mrs. Alden told him about the subtle little differences in theconventions of these various sets of Society. There was the matter ofwomen smoking, for instance. All women smoked, nowadays; but some woulddo it only in their own apartments, with their women friends; and somewould retire to an out-of-the-way corner to do it; while others wouldsmoke in their own dining-rooms, or wherever the men smoked. All agreedhowever, in never smoking "in public"--that is, where they would beseen by people not of their own set. Such, at any rate, had always beenthe rule, though a few daring ones were beginning to defy even that. 

Such rules were very rigid, but they were purely conventional, they hadnothing to do with right or wrong: a fact which Mrs. Alden set forthwith her usual incisiveness. A woman, married or unmarried, mighttravel with a man all over Europe, and every one might know that shedid it, but it would make no difference, so long as she did not do itin America. There was one young matron whom Montague would meet, araging beauty, who regularly got drunk at dinner parties, and had to beescorted to her carriage by the butler. She moved in the most exclusivecircles, and every one treated it as a joke. Unpleasant things likethis did not hurt a person unless they got "out"--that is, unless theybecame a scandal in the courts or the newspapers. Mrs. Alden herselfhad a cousin (whom she cordially hated) who had gotten a divorce fromher husband and married her lover forthwith and had for this beenostracized by Society. Once when she came to some semi-public affair, fifty women had risen at once and left the room! She might have livedwith her lover, both before and after the divorce, and every one mighthave known it, and no one would have cared; but the convenancesdeclared that she should not marry him until a year had elapsed afterthe divorce. 

One thing to which Mrs. Alden could testify, as a result of alifetime's observation, was the rapid rate at which these conventions, even the most essential of them, were giving way, and being replaced bya general "do as you please. " Anyone could see that the power of womenlike Mrs. Devon, who represented the old regime, and were dignified andaustere and exclusive, was yielding before the onslaught of new people, who were bizarre and fantastic and promiscuous and loud. And theyounger sets cared no more about anyone--nor about anything underheaven, save to have a good time in their own harum-scarum ways. In theold days one always received a neatly-written or engraved invitation todinner, worded in impersonal and formal style; but the other day Mrs. Alden had found a message which had been taken from the telephone:"Please come to dinner, but don't come unless you can bring a man, orwe'll be thirteen at the table. "

And along with this went a perfectly incredible increase in luxury andextravagance. "You are surprised at what you see here to-day, " saidshe--"but take my word for it, if you were to come back five yearslater, you'd find all our present standards antiquated, and our presentpace-makers sent to the rear. You'd find new hotels and theatresopening, and food and clothing and furniture that cost twice as much asthey cost now. Not so long ago a private car was a luxury; now it's asmuch a necessity as an opera-box or a private ball-room, and people whoreally count have private trains. I can remember when our girls worepretty muslin gowns in summer, and sent them to wash; now they wearwhat they call lingerie gowns, dimity en princesse, with silkembroidery and real lace and ribbons, that cost a thousand dollarsapiece and won't wash. Years ago when I gave a dinner, I invited adozen friends, and my own chef cooked it and my own servants served it. Now I have to pay my steward ten thousand a year, and nothing that Ihave is good enough. I have to ask forty or fifty people, and I call ina caterer, and he brings everything of his own, and my servants go offand get drunk. You used to get a good dinner for ten dollars a plate, and fifteen was something special; but now you hear of dinners thatcost a thousand a plate! And it's not enough to have beautiful flowerson the table--you have to have 'scenery'; there must be a rurallandscape for a background, and goldfish in the finger-bowls, and fivethousand dollars' worth of Florida orchids on the table, and floralfavours of roses that cost a hundred and fifty dollars a dozen. Iattended a dinner at the Waldorf last year that had cost fifty thousanddollars; and when I ask those people to see me, I have to give them asgood as I got. The other day I paid a thousand dollars for atablecloth!"

"Why do you do it?" asked Montague, abruptly. 

"God knows, " said the other; "I don't. I sometimes wonder myself. Iguess it's because I've nothing else to do. It's like the story theytell about my brother--he was losing money in a gambling-place inSaratoga, and some one said to him, 'Davy, why do you go there--don'tyou know the game is crooked?' 'Of course it's crooked, ' said he, 'but, damn it, it's the only game in town!'"

"The pressure is more than anyone can stand, " said Mrs. Alden, after amoment's thought. "It's like trying to swim against a current. You haveto float, and do what every one expects you to do--your children andyour friends and your servants and your tradespeople. All the world isin a conspiracy against you. "

"It's appalling to me, " said the man. 

"Yes, " said the other, "and there's never any end to it. You think youknow it all, but you find you really know very little. Just think ofthe number of people there are trying to go the pace! They say thereare seven thousand millionaires in this country, but I say there aretwenty thousand in New York alone--or if they don't own a million, they're spending the income of it, which amounts to the same thing. Youcan figure that a man who pays ten thousand a year for rent is payingfifty thousand to live; and there's Fifth Avenue--two miles of it, ifyou count the uptown and downtown parts; and there's Madison Avenue, and half a dozen houses adjoining on every side street; and then thereare the hotels and apartment houses, to say nothing of the West Sideand Riverside Drive. And you meet these mobs of people in the shops andthe hotels and the theatres, and they all want to be better dressedthan you. I saw a woman here to-day that I never saw in my life before, and I heard her say she'd paid two thousand dollars for a lacehandkerchief; and it might have been true, for I've been asked to payten thousand for a lace shawl at a bargain. It's a common enough thingto see a woman walking on Fifth Avenue with twenty or thirty thousanddollars' worth of furs on her. Fifty thousand is often paid for a coatof sable, and I know of one that cost two hundred thousand. I knowwomen who have a dozen sets of furs--ermine, chinchilla, black fox, baby lamb, and mink and sable; and I know a man whose chauffeur quithim because he wouldn't buy him a ten-thousand-dollar fur coat! Andonce people used to pack their furs away and take care of them; but nowthey wear them about the street, or at the sea-shore, and you canfairly see them fade. Or else their cut goes out of fashion, and sothey have to have new ones!"

All that was material for thought. It was all true--there was noquestion about that. It seemed to be the rule that whenever youquestioned a tale of the extravagances of New York, you would hear thenext day of something several times more startling. Montague wasstaggered at the idea of a two-hundred-thousand-dollar fur coat; andyet not long afterward there arrived in the city a titled Englishwoman, who owned a coat worth a million dollars, which hard-headed insurancecompanies had insured for half a million. It was made of the softplumage of rare Hawaiian birds, and had taken twenty years to make;each feather was crescent-shaped, and there were wonderful designs incrimson and gold and black. Every day in the casual conversation ofyour acquaintances you heard of similar incredible things; a tinyantique Persian rug, which could be folded into an overcoat pocket, forten thousand dollars; a set of five "art fans, " each blade painted by afamous artist and costing forty-three thousand dollars; a crystal cupfor eighty thousand; an edition de luxe of the works of Dickens for ahundred thousand; a ruby, the size of a pigeon's egg, for three hundredthousand. In some of these great New York palaces there were fountainswhich cost a hundred dollars a minute to run; and in the harbour therewere yachts which cost twenty thousand a month to keep in commission. 

And that same day, as it chanced, he learned of a brand-new kind ofsquandering. He went home to lunch with Mrs. Winnie Duval, and theremet Mrs. Caroline Smythe, with whom he had talked at Castle Havens. Mrs. Smythe, whose husband had been a well-known Wall Street plunger, was soft and mushy, and very gushing in manner; and she asked him tocome home to dinner with her, adding, "I'll introduce you to my babies. "

From what Montague had so far seen, he judged that babies played a verysmall part in the lives of the women of Society; and so he wasinterested, and asked, "How many have you?"

"Only two, in town, " said Mrs. Smythe. "I've just come up, you see. "

"How old are they?" he inquired politely; and when the lady added, "About two years, " he asked, "Won't they be in bed by dinner time?"

"Oh my, no!" said Mrs. Smythe. "The dear little lambs wait up for me. Ialways find them scratching at my chamber door and wagging their littletails. "

Then Mrs. Winnie laughed merrily and said, "Why do you fool him?" andwent on to inform Montague that Caroline's "babies" were griffonsBruxelloises. Griffons suggested to him vague ideas of dragons andunicorns and gargoyles; but he said nothing more, save to accept theinvitation, and that evening he discovered that griffons Bruxelloiseswere tiny dogs, long-haired, yellow, and fluffy; and that for her twopriceless treasures Mrs. Smythe had an expert nurse, to whom she paid ahundred dollars a month, and also a footman, and a special cuisine inwhich their complicated food was prepared. They had a regular dentist, and a physician, and gold plate to eat from. Mrs. Smythe also owned twolong-haired St. Bernards of a very rare breed, and a fierce Great Dane, and a very fat Boston bull pup--the last having been trained to go foran airing all alone in her carriage, with a solemn coachman and footmanto drive him. 

Montague, deftly keeping the conversation upon the subject of pets, learned that all this was quite common. Many women in Societyartificially made themselves barren, because of the inconvenienceincidental to pregnancy and motherhood; and instead they lavished theiraffections upon cats and dogs. Some of these animals had elaboratecostumes, rivalling in expensiveness those of their step-mothers. Theywore tiny boots, which cost eight dollars a pair--house boots, andstreet boots lacing up to the knees; they had house-coats, walking-coats, dusters, sweaters, coats lined with ermine, andautomobile coats with head and chest-protectors and hoods andgoggles--and each coat fitted with a pocket for its tiny handkerchiefof fine linen or lace! And they had collars set with rubies and pearlsand diamonds--one had a collar that cost ten thousand dollars!Sometimes there would be a coat to match every gown of the owner. Therewere dog nurseries and resting-rooms, in which they might be lefttemporarily; and manicure parlours for cats, with a physician incharge. When these pets died, there was an expensive cemetery inBrooklyn especially for their interment; and they would be dulyembalmed and buried in plush-lined casket, and would have costly marblemonuments. When one of Mrs. Smythe's best loved pugs had fallen ill ofcongestion of the liver, she had had tan-bark put upon the street infront of her house; and when in spite of this the dog died, she hadsent out cards edged in black, inviting her friends to a "memorialservice. " Also she showed Montague a number of books with very costlybindings, in which were demonstrated the unity, simplicity, andimmortality of the souls of cats and dogs. 

Apparently the sentimental Mrs. Smythe was willing to talk about thesepets all through dinner; and so was her aunt, a thin and angularspinster, who sat on Montague's other side. And he was willing tolisten--he wanted to know it all. There were umbrellas for dogs, to befastened over their backs in wet weather; there were manicure andtoilet sets, and silver medicine-chests, and jewel-studded whips. Therewere sets of engraved visiting-cards; there were wheel-chairs in whichinvalid cats and dogs might be taken for an airing. There were showsfor cats and dogs, with pedigrees and prizes, and nearly as greatcrowds as the Horse Show; Mrs. Smythe's St. Bernards were worth seventhousand dollars apiece, and there were bull-dogs worth twice that. There was a woman who had come all the way from the Pacific coast tohave a specialist perform an operation upon the throat of her Yorkshireterrier! There was another who had built for her dog a tiny Queen Annecottage, with rooms papered and carpeted and hung with lace curtains!Once a young man of fashion had come to the Waldorf and registeredhimself and "Miss Elsie Cochrane"; and when the clerk made the usualinquiries as to the relationship of the young lady, it transpired thatMiss Elsie was a dog, arrayed in a prim little tea-gown, and requiringa room to herself. And then there was a tale of a cat which hadinherited a life-pension from a forty-thousand-dollar estate; it had atwo-floor apartment and several attendants, and sat at table and ateshrimps and Italian chestnuts, and had a velvet couch for naps, and afur-lined basket for sleeping at night!

Four days of horses were enough for Montague, and on Friday morning, when Siegfried Harvey called him up and asked if he and Alice wouldcome out to "The Roost" for the week-end, he accepted gladly. CharlieCarter was going, and volunteered to take them in his car; and so againthey crossed the Williamsburg Bridge--"the Jewish passover, " as Charliecalled it--and went out on Long Island. 

Montague was very anxious to get a "line" on Charlie Carter; for he hadnot been prepared for the startling promptness with which this youngman had fallen at Alice's feet. It was so obvious, that everybody wassmiling over it--he was with her every minute that he could arrange it, and he turned up at every place to which she was invited. Both Mrs. Winnie and Oliver were quite evidently complacent, but Montague was byno means the same. Charlie had struck him as a good-natured but ratherweak youth, inclined to melancholy; he was never without a cigarette inhis fingers, and there had been signs that he was not quite proofagainst the pitfalls which Society set about him in the shape ofdecanters and wine-cups: though in a world where the fragrance ofspirits was never out of one's nostrils, and where people drank withsuch perplexing frequency, it was hard to know where to draw a line. 

"You won't find my place like Havens's, " Siegfried Harvey had said. "Itis real country. " Montague found it the most attractive of all thehomes he had seen so far. It was a big rambling house, all in rusticstyle, with great hewn logs outside, and rafters within, and a windingoak stairway, and any number of dens and cosy corners, and broadwindow-seats with mountains of pillows. Everything here was built forcomfort--there was a billiard-room and a smoking-room, and a reallibrary with readable books and great chairs in which one sank out ofsight. There were log fires blazing everywhere, and pictures on thewalls that told of sport, and no end of guns and antlers and trophiesof all sorts. But you were not to suppose that all this elaboraterusticity would be any excuse for the absence of attendants in livery, and a chef who boasted the cordon bleu, and a dinner-table resplendentwith crystal and silver and orchids and ferns. After all, though thehost called it a "small" place, he had invited twenty guests, and hehad a hunter in his stables for each one of them. 

But the most wonderful thing about "The Roost" was the fact that, at atouch of a button, all the walls of the lower rooms vanished into thesecond story, and there was one huge, log-lighted room, with violinstuning up and calling to one's feet. They set a fast pace here--thedancing lasted until three o'clock, and at dawn again they were dressedand mounted, and following the pink-coated grooms and the hounds acrossthe frost-covered fields. 

Montague was half prepared for a tame fox, but this was spared him. There was a real game, it seemed; and soon the pack gave tongue, andaway went the hunt. It was the wildest ride that Montague ever hadtaken--over ditches and streams and innumerable rail-fences, andthrough thick coverts and densely populated barnyards; but he was in atthe death, and Alice was only a few yards behind, to the immensedelight of the company. This seemed to Montague the first real life hehad met, and he thought to himself that these full-blooded andhigh-spirited men and women made a "set" into which he would have beenglad to fit--save only that he had to earn his living, and they did not. 

In the afternoon there was more riding, and walks in the crisp Novemberair; and indoors, bridge and rackets and ping-pong, and a fast andfurious game of roulette, with the host as banker. "Do I look much likea professional gambler?" he asked of Montague; and when the otherreplied that he had not yet met any New York gamblers, young Harveywent on to tell how he had gone to buy this apparatus (the sale ofwhich was forbidden by law) and had been asked by the dealer how"strong" he wanted it!

Then in the evening there was more dancing, and on Sunday another hunt. That night a gambling mood seemed to seize the company--there were twobridge tables, and in another room the most reckless game of poker thatMontague had ever sat in. It broke up at three in the morning, and oneof the company wrote him a cheque for sixty-five hundred dollars; buteven that could not entirely smooth his conscience, nor reconcile himto the fever that was in his blood. 

Most important to him, however, was the fact that during the game he atlast got to know Charlie Carter. Charlie did not play, for the reasonthat he was drunk, and one of the company told him so and refused toplay with him; which left poor Charlie nothing to do but get drunker. This he did, and came and hung over the shoulders of the players, andtold the company all about himself. 

Montague was prepared to allow for the "wild oats" of a youngster withunlimited money, but never in his life had he heard or dreamed ofanything like this boy. For half an hour he wandered about the table, and poured out a steady stream of obscenities; his mind was like aswamp, in which dwelt loathsome and hideous serpents which came to thesurface at night and showed their flat heads and their slimy coils. Inthe heavens above or the earth beneath there was nothing sacred to him;there was nothing too revolting to be spewed out. And the companyaccepted the performance as an old story--the men would laugh, and pushthe boy away, and say, "Oh, Charlie, go to the devil!"

After it was all over, Montague took one of the company aside and askedhim what it meant; to which the man replied: "Good God! Do you meanthat nobody has told you about Charlie Carter?"

It appeared that Charlie was one of the "gilded youths" of theTenderloin, whose exploits had been celebrated in the papers. And afterthe attendants had bundled him off to bed, several of the men gatheredabout the fire and sipped hot punch, and rehearsed for Montague'sbenefit some of his leading exploits. 

Charlie was only twenty-three, it seemed; and when he was ten hisfather had died and left eight or ten millions in trust for him, in thecare of a poor, foolish aunt whom he twisted about his finger. At theage of twelve he was a cigarette fiend, and had the run of thewine-cellar. When he went to a rich private school he took whole trunksfull of cigarettes with him, and finally ran away to Europe, to acquirethe learning of the brothels of Paris. And then he came home and struckthe Tenderloin; and at three o'clock one morning he walked through aplate-glass window, and so the newspapers took him up. That hadsuddenly opened a new vista in life for Charlie--he became a devotee offame; everywhere he went he was followed by newspaper reporters and astaring crowd. He carried wads as big round as his arm, and gave awayhundred-dollar tips to bootblacks, and lost forty thousand dollars in agame of poker. He gave a fete to the demi-monde, with a jewelledChristmas tree in midsummer, and fifty thousand dollars' worth ofsplendour. But the greatest stroke of all was the announcement that hewas going to build a submarine yacht and fill it withchorus-girls!--Now Charlie had sunk out of public attention, and hisfriends would not see him for days; he would be lying in a "sportinghouse" literally wallowing in champagne. 

And all this, Montague realized, his brother must have known! And hehad said not a word about it--because of the eight or ten millionswhich Charlie would have when he was twenty-five!

CHAPTER IX

In the morning they went home with others of the party by train. Theycould not wait for Charlie and his automobile, because Monday was theopening night of the Opera, and no one could miss that. Here Societywould appear in its most gorgeous raiment, and, there would be a showof jewellery such as could be seen nowhere else in the world. 

General Prentice and his wife had opened their town-house, and hadinvited them to dinner and to share their box; and so at abouthalf-past nine o'clock Montague found himself seated in a great balconyof the shape of a horseshoe, with several hundred of the richest peoplein the city. There was another tier of boxes above, and three galleriesabove that, and a thousand or more people seated and standing belowhim. Upon the big stage there was an elaborate and showy play, thewords of which were sung to the accompaniment of an orchestra. 

Now Montague had never heard an opera, and he was fond of music. Thesecond act had just begun when he came in, and all through it he satquite spellbound, listening to the most ravishing strains that ever hehad heard in his life. He scarcely noticed that Mrs. Prentice wasspending her time studying the occupants of the other boxes through ajewelled lorgnette, or that Oliver was chattering to her daughter. 

But after the act was over, Oliver got him alone outside the box, andwhispered, "For God's sake, Allan, don't make a fool of yourself. "

"Why, what's the matter?" asked the other. 

"What will people think, " exclaimed Oliver, "seeing you sitting therelike a man in a dope dream?"

"Why, " laughed the other, "they'll think I'm listening to the music. "

To which Oliver responded, "People don't come to the Opera to listen tothe music. "

This sounded like a joke, but it was not. To Society the Opera was agreat state function, an exhibition of far more exclusiveness andmagnificence than the Horse Show; and Society certainly had the rightto say, for it owned the opera-house and ran it. The real music-loverswho came, either stood up in the back, or sat in the fifth gallery, close to the ceiling, where the air was foul and hot. How much Societycared about the play was sufficiently indicated by the fact that all ofthe operas were sung in foreign languages, and sung so carelessly thatthe few who understood the languages could make but little of thewords. Once there was a world-poet who devoted his life to trying tomake the Opera an art; and in the battle with Society he all butstarved to death. Now, after half a century, his genius had triumphed, and Society consented to sit for hours in darkness and listen to thedomestic disputes of German gods and goddesses. But what Society reallycared for was a play with beautiful costumes and scenery and dancing, and pretty songs to which one could listen while one talked; the storymust be elemental and passionate, so that one could understand it inpantomime--say the tragic love of a beautiful and noble-mindedcourtesan for a gallant young man of fashion. 

Nearly every one who came to the Opera had a glass, by means of whichhe could bring each gorgeously-clad society dame close to him, andstudy her at leisure. There were said to be two hundred milliondollars' worth of diamonds in New York, and those that were not in thestores were very apt to be at this show; for here was where they couldaccomplish the purpose for which they existed--here was where all theworld came to stare at them. There were nine prominent Society women, who among them displayed five million dollars' worth of jewels. Youwould see stomachers which looked like a piece of a coat of mail, andwere made wholly of blazing diamonds. You would see emeralds and rubiesand diamonds and pearls made in tiaras--that is to say, imitationcrowns and coronets--and exhibited with a stout and solemn dowager fora pediment. One of the Wallings had set this fashion, and now every oneof importance wore them. One lady to whom Montague was introduced madea speciality of pearls--two black pearl ear-rings at forty thousanddollars, a string at three hundred thousand, a brooch of pink pearls atfifty thousand, and two necklaces at a quarter of a million each!

This incessant repetition of the prices of things came to seem verysordid; but Montague found that there was no getting away from it. Thepeople in Society who paid these prices affected to be above all suchconsiderations, to be interested only in the beauty and artisticexcellence of the things themselves; but one found that they alwaystalked about the prices which other people had paid, and that somehowother people always knew what they had paid. They took care also to seethat the public and the newspapers knew what they had paid, and kneweverything else that they were doing. At this Opera, for instance, there was a diagram of the boxes printed upon the programme, and a listof all the box-holders, so that anyone could tell who was who. Youmight see these great dames in their gorgeous robes coming from theircarriages, with crowds staring at them and detectives hovering about. And the bosom of each would be throbbing with a wild and wonderfulvision of the moment when she would enter her box, and the music wouldbe forgotten, and all eyes would be turned upon her; and she would layaside her wraps, and flash upon the staring throngs, a vision ofdazzling splendour. 

Some of these jewels were family treasures, well known to New York forgenerations; and in such cases it was becoming the fashion to leave thereal jewels in the safe-deposit vault, and to wear imitation stonesexactly like them. From homes where the jewels were kept, detectiveswere never absent, and in many cases there were detectives watching thedetectives; and yet every once in a while the newspapers would be fullof a sensational story of a robbery. Then the unfortunates who chancedto be suspected would be seized by the police and subjected to what wasjocularly termed the "third degree, " and consisted of tortures aselaborate and cruel as any which the Spanish Inquisition had invented. The advertising value of this kind of thing was found to be so greatthat famous actresses also had costly jewels, and now and then wouldhave them stolen. 

That night, when they had got home, Montague had a talk with his cousinabout Charlie Carter. He discovered a peculiar situation. It seemedthat Alice already knew that Charlie had been "bad. " He was sick andmiserable; and her beauty and innocence had touched him and made himashamed of himself, and he had hinted darkly at dreadful evils. Thuscarefully veiled, and tinged with mystery and romance, Montague couldunderstand how Charlie made an interesting and appealing figure. "Hesays I'm different from any girl he ever met, " said Alice--a remark ofsuch striking originality that her cousin could not keep back his smile. 

Alice was not the least bit in love with him, and had no idea of being;and she said that she would accept no invitations, and never go alonewith him; but she did not see how she could avoid him when she met himat other people's houses. And to this Montague had to assent. 

General Prentice had inquired kindly as to what Montague had seen inNew York, and how he was getting along. He added that he had talkedabout him to Judge Ellis, and that when he was ready to get to work, the Judge would perhaps have some suggestions to make to him. Heapproved, however, of Montague's plan of getting his bearings first;and said that he would introduce him and put him up at a couple of theleading clubs. 

All this remained in Montague's mind; but there was no use trying tothink of it at the moment. Thanksgiving was at hand, and in countlesscountry mansions there would be gaieties under way. Bertie Stuyvesanthad planned an excursion to his Adirondack camp, and had invited ascore or so of young people, including the Montagues. This would be anew feature of the city's life, worth knowing about. 

Their expedition began with a theatre-party. Bertie had engaged fourboxes, and they met there, an hour or so after the performance hadbegun. This made no difference, however, for the play was like theopera-a number of songs and dances strung together, and with only plotenough to provide occasion for elaborate scenery and costumes. From theplay they were carried to the Grand Central Station, and a littlebefore midnight Bertie's private train set out on its journey. 

This train was a completely equipped hotel. There was a baggagecompartment and a dining-car and kitchen; and a drawing-room andlibrary-car; and a bedroom-car--not with berths, such as the ordinarysleeping-car provides, but with comfortable bedrooms, furnished inwhite mahogany, and provided with running water and electric light. Allthese cars were built of steel, and automatically ventilated: and theywere furnished in the luxurious fashion of everything with which BertieStuyvesant had anything to do. In the library-car there were velvetcarpets upon the floor, and furniture of South American mahogany, andpaintings upon the walls over which great artists had laboured foryears. 

Bertie's chef and servants were on board, and a supper was ready in thedining-car, which they ate while watching the Hudson by moonlight. Andthe next morning they reached their destination, a little station inthe mountain wilderness. The train lay upon a switch, and so they hadbreakfast at their leisure, and then, bundled in furs, came out intothe crisp pine-laden air of the woods. There was snow upon the ground, and eight big sleighs waiting; and for nearly three hours they drove inthe frosty sunlight, through most beautiful mountain scenery. A goodpart of the drive was in Bertie's "preserve, " and the road was private, as big signs notified one every hundred yards or so. 

So at last they reached a lake, winding like a snake among toweringhills, and with a huge baronial castle standing out upon the rockyshore. This imitation fortress was the "camp. "

Bertie's father had built it, and visited it only half a dozen times inhis life. Bertie himself had only been here twice, he said. The deerwere so plentiful that in the winter they died in scores. Neverthelessthere were thirty game-keepers to guard the ten thousand acres offorest, and prevent anyone's hunting in it. There were many such"preserves" in this Adirondack wilderness, so Montague was told; oneman had a whole mountain fenced about with heavy iron railing, and hadmoose and elk and even wild boar inside. And as for the "camps, " therewere so many that a new style of architecture had been developedhere--to say nothing of those which followed old styles, like thisimported Rhine castle. One of Bertie's crowd had a big Swiss chalet;and one of the Wallings had a Japanese palace to which he came everyAugust--a house which had been built from plans drawn in Japan, and bylabourers imported especially from Japan. It was full of Japaneseware--furniture, tapestry, and mosaics; and the guides remembered withwonder the strange silent, brown-skinned little men who had labouredfor days at carving a bit of wood, and had built a tiny pagoda-liketea-house with more bits of wood in it than a man could count in a week. 

They had a luncheon of fresh venison and partridges and trout, and inthe afternoon a hunt. The more active set out to track the deer in thesnow; but most prepared to watch the lake-shore, while the game-keepersturned loose the dogs back in the hills. This "hounding" was againstthe law, but Bertie was his own law here--and at the worst there couldsimply be a small fine, imposed upon some of the keepers. They droveeight or ten deer to water; and as they fired as many as twenty shotsat one deer, they had quite a lively time. Then at dusk they came back, in a fine glow of excitement, and spent the evening before the blazinglogs, telling over their adventures. 

The party spent two days and a half here, and on the last evening, which was Thanksgiving, they had a wild turkey which Bertie had shotthe week before in Virginia, and were entertained by a minstrel showwhich had been brought up from New York the night before. The nextafternoon they drove back to the train. 

In the morning, when they reached the city, Alice found a note fromMrs. Winnie Duval, begging her and Montague to come to lunch and attenda private lecture by the Swami Babubanana, who would tell them allabout the previous states of their souls. They went--though not withouta protest from old Mrs. Montague, who declared it was "worse than BobIngersoll. "

And then, in the evening, came Mrs. De Graffenried's openingentertainment, which was one of the great events of the social year. Inthe general rush of things Montague had not had a chance properly torealize it; but Reggie Mann and Mrs. De Graffenried had been workingover it for weeks. When the Montagues arrived, they found the Riversidemansion--which was decorated in imitation of an Arabian palace--turnedinto a jungle of tropical plants. 

They had come early at Reggie's request, and he introduced them to Mrs. De Graffenried, a tall and angular lady with a leathern complexionpainfully painted; Mrs. De Graffenried was about fifty years of age, but like all the women of Society she was made up for thirty. Just atpresent there were beads of perspiration upon her forehead; somethinghad gone wrong at the last moment, and so Reggie would have no time toshow them the favours, as he had intended. 

About a hundred and fifty guests were invited to this entertainment. Asupper was served at little tables in the great ball-room, andafterward the guests wandered about the house while the tables werewhisked out of the way and the room turned into a play-house. A companyfrom one of the Broadway theatres would be bundled into cabs at the endof the performance, and by midnight they would be ready to repeat theperformance at Mrs. De Graffenried's. Montague chanced to be near whenthis company arrived, and he observed that the guests had crowded uptoo close, and not left room enough for the actors. So the manager hadplaced them in a little ante-room, and when Mrs. De Graffenriedobserved this, she rushed at the man, and swore at him like a dragoon, and ordered the bewildered performers out into the main room. 

But this was peering behind the scenes, and he was supposed to bewatching the play. The entertainment was another "musical comedy" likethe one he had seen a few nights before. On that occasion, however, Bertie Stuyvesant's sister had talked to him the whole time, while nowhe was let alone, and had a chance to watch the performance. 

This was a very popular play; it had had a long run, and the paperstold how its author had an income of a couple of hundred thousanddollars a year. And here was an audience of the most rich andinfluential people in the city; and they laughed and clapped, and madeit clear that they were enjoying themselves heartily. And what sort ofa play was it?

It was called "The Kaliph of Kamskatka. " It had no shred of a plot; theKaliph had seventeen wives, and there was an American drummer whowanted to sell him another--but then you did not need to remember this, for nothing came of it. There was nothing in the play which could becalled a character--there was nothing which could be connected with anyreal emotion ever felt by human beings. Nor could one say that therewas any incident--at least nothing happened because of anything else. Each event was a separate thing, like the spasmodic jerking in the faceof an idiot. Of this sort of "action" there was any quantity--at aninstant's notice every one on the stage would fall simultaneously intothis condition of idiotic jerking. There was rushing about, shouting, laughing, exclaiming; the stage was in a continual uproar ofexcitement, which was without any reason or meaning. So it wasimpossible to think of the actors in their parts; one kept thinking ofthem as human beings--thinking of the awful tragedy of full-grown menand women being compelled by the pressure of hunger to dress up andpaint themselves, and then come out in public and dance, stamp, leapabout, wring their hands, make faces, and otherwise be "lively. "

The costumes were of two sorts: one fantastic, supposed to representthe East, and the other a kind of reductio ad absurdum of fashionablegarb. The leading man wore a "natty" outing-suit, and strutted with alittle cane; his stock-in-trade was a jaunty air, a kind of perpetualflourish, and a wink that suggested the cunning of a satyr. The leadinglady changed her costume several times in each act; but it invariablycontained the elements of bare arms and bosom and back, and a skirtwhich did not reach her knees, and bright-coloured silk stockings, andslippers with heels two inches high. Upon the least provocation shewould execute a little pirouette, which would reveal the rest of herlegs, surrounded by a mass of lace ruffles. It is the nature of thehuman mind to seek the end of things; if this woman had worn a suit oftights and nothing else, she would have been as uninteresting as anunderwear advertisement in a magazine; but this incessantnot-quite-revealing of herself exerted a subtle fascination. Atfrequent intervals the orchestra would start up a jerky little tune, and the two "stars" would begin to sing in nasal voices some wordsexpressive of passion; then the man would take the woman about thewaist and dance and swing her about and bend her backward and gaze intoher eyes--actions all vaguely suggestive of the relationship of sex. Atthe end of the verse a chorus would come gliding on, clad in any sortof costume which admitted of colour and the display of legs; thepainted women of this chorus were never still for an instant--if theywere not actually dancing, they were wriggling their legs, and jerkingtheir bodies from side to side, and nodding their heads, and in allother possible ways being "lively. "

But it was not the physical indecency of this show that struck Montagueso much as its intellectual content. The dialogue of the piece was whatis called "smart"; that is, it was full of a kind of innuendo whichimplied a secret understanding of evil between the actor and hisaudience--a sort of countersign which passed between them. After all, it would have been an error to say that there were no ideas in theplay--there was one idea upon which all the interest of it was based;and Montague strove to analyze this idea and formulate it to himself. There are certain life principles-one might call them moralaxioms--which are the result of the experience of countless ages of thehuman race, and upon the adherence to which the continuance of the racedepends. And here was an audience by whom all these principleswere--not questioned, nor yet disputed, nor yet denied--but to whom thedenial was the axiom, something which it would be too banal to stateflatly, but which it was elegant and witty to take for granted. In thisaudience there were elderly people, and married men and women, andyoung men and maidens; and a perfect gale of laughter swept through itat a story of a married woman whose lover had left her when he gotmarried:--

"She must have been heartbroken, " said the leading lady. 

"She was desperate, " said the leading man, with a grin. 

"What did she do?" asked the lady "Go and shoot herself?"

"Worse than that, " said the man. "She, went back to her husband and hada baby!"

But to complete your understanding of the significance of this play, you must bring yourself to realize that it was not merely a play, but akind of a play; it had a name--a "musical comedy"--the meaning of whichevery one understood. Hundreds of such plays were written and produced, and "dramatic critics" went to see them and gravely discussed them, andmany thousands of people made their livings by travelling over thecountry and playing them; stately theatres were built for them, andhundreds of thousands of people paid their money every night to seethem. And all this no joke and no nightmare--but a thing that reallyexisted. Men and women were doing these things--actual flesh-and-bloodhuman beings. 

Montague wondered, in an awestricken sort of way, what kind of humanbeing it could be who had flourished the cane and made the grimaces inthat play. Later on, when he came to know the "Tenderloin, " he met thissame actor, and he found that he had begun life as a little Irish"mick" who lived in a tenement, and whose mother stood at the head ofthe stairway and defended him with a rolling-pin against a policemanwho was chasing him. He had discovered that he could make a living byhis comical antics; but when he came home and told his mother that hehad been offered twenty dollars a week by a show manager, she gave hima licking for lying to her. Now he was making three thousand dollars aweek--more than the President of the United States and his Cabinet; buthe was not happy, as he confided to Montague, because he did not knowhow to read, and this was a cause of perpetual humiliation. The secretdesire of this little actor's heart was to play Shakespeare; he had"Hamlet" read to him, and pondered how to act it--all the time that hewas flourishing his little cane and making his grimaces! He had chancedto be on the stage when a fire had broken out, and five or six hundredvictims of greed were roasted to death. The actor had pleaded with thepeople to keep their seats, but all in vain; and all his lifethereafter he went about with this vision of horror in his mind, andhaunted by the passionate conviction that he had failed because of hislack of education--that if only he had been a man of culture, he wouldhave been able to think of something to say to hold thoseterror-stricken people!

At three o'clock in the morning the performance came to an end, andthen there were more refreshments; and Mrs. Vivie Patton came and satby him, and they had a nice comfortable gossip. When Mrs. Vivie oncegot started at talking about people, her tongue ran on like a windmill. 

There was Reggie Mann, meandering about and simpering at people. Reggiewas in his glory at Mrs. De Graffenried's affairs. Reggie had arrangedall this-he did the designing and the ordering, and contracted for theshows with the agents. You could bet that he had got his commission onthem, too--though sometimes Mrs. De Graffenried got the shows to comefor nothing, because of the advertising her name would bring. Commissions were Reggie's speciality--he had begun life as an autoagent. Montague didn't know what that was? An auto agent was a man whowas for ever begging his friends to use a certain kind of car, so thathe might make a living; and Reggie had made about thirty thousand ayear in that way. He had come from Boston, where his reputation hadbeen made by the fact that early one morning, as they were driving homefrom a celebration, he had dared a young society matron to take off hershoes and stockings, and get out and wade in the public fountain; andshe had done it, and he had followed her. On the strength of the eclatof this he had been taken up by Mrs. Devon; and one day Mrs. Devon hadworn a white gown, and asked him what he thought of it. "It needs butone thing to make it perfect, " said Reggie, and taking a red rose, hepinned it upon her corsage. The effect was magical; every one exclaimedwith delight, and so Reggie's reputation as an authority upon dress wasmade for ever. Now he was Mrs. De Graffenried's right-hand man, andthey made up their pranks together. Once they had walked down thestreet in Newport with a big rag doll between them. And Reggie hadgiven a dinner at which the guest of honour had been a monkey--surelyMontague had heard of that, for it had been the sensation of theseason. It was really the funniest thing imaginable; the monkey wore asuit of broad-cloth with collar and cuffs, and he shook hands with allthe guests, and behaved himself exactly like a gentleman--except thathe did not get drunk. 

And then Mrs. Vivie pointed out the great Mrs. Ridgley-Clieveden, whowas sitting with one of her favourites, a grave, black-beardedgentleman who had leaped into fame by inheriting fifty million dollars. "Mrs. R. -C. " had taken him up, and ordered his engagement book for him, and he was solemnly playing the part of a social light. He hadpurchased an old New York mansion, upon the decoration of which threemillion dollars had been spent; and when he came down to business fromTuxedo, his private train waited all day for him with steam up. Mrs. Vivie told an amusing tale of a woman who had announced her engagementto him, and borrowed large sums of money upon the strength of it, before his denial came out. That had been a source of great delight toMrs. De Graffenried, who was furiously jealous of "Mrs. R. C. "

From the anecdotes that people told, Montague judged that Mrs. DeGraffenried must be one of those new leaders of Society, who, as Mrs. Alden said, were inclined to the bizarre and fantastic. Mrs. DeGraffenried spent half a million dollars every season to hold theposition of leader of the Newport set, and you could always count uponher for new and striking ideas. Once she had given away as cotillionfavours tiny globes with goldfish in them; again she had given a danceat which everybody got themselves up as different vegetables. She wasfond of going about at Newport and inviting people haphazard tolunch--thirty or forty at a time--and then surprising them with asplendid banquet. Again she would give a big formal dinner, and perplexpeople by offering them something which they really cared to eat. "Yousee, " explained Mrs. Vivie, "at these dinners we generally get thickgreen turtle soup, and omelettes with some sort of Florida water pouredover them, and mushrooms cooked under glass, and real hand-madedesserts; but Mrs. De Graffenried dares to have baked ham and sweetpotatoes, or even real roast beef. You saw to-night that she had greencorn; she must have arranged for that months ahead--we can never get itfrom Porto Rico until January. And you see this little dish of wildstrawberries--they were probably transplanted and raised in a hothouse, and every single one wrapped separately before they were shipped. "

All these labours had made Mrs. De Graffenried a tremendous power inthe social world. She had a savage tongue, said Mrs. Vivie, and everyone lived in terror of her; but once in a while she met her match. Onceshe had invited a comic opera star to sing for her guests, and all themen had crowded round this actress, and Mrs. De Graffenried had flowninto a passion and tried to drive them away; and the actress, lollingback in her chair, and gazing up idly at Mrs. De Graffenried, haddrawled, "Ten years older than God!" Poor Mrs. De Graffenried wouldcarry that saying with her until she died. 

Something reminiscent of this came under Montague's notice that sameevening. At about four o'clock Mrs. Vivie wished to go home, and askedhim to find her escort, the Count St. Elmo de Champignon--the man, bythe way, for whom her husband was gunning. Montague roamed all aboutthe house, and finally went downstairs, where a room had been set apartfor the theatrical company to partake of refreshments. Mrs. DeGraffenried's secretary was on guard at the door; but some of the boyshad got into the room, and were drinking champagne and "making dates"with the chorus-girls. And here was Mrs. De Graffenried herself, pushing them bodily out of the room, a score and more of them--andamong them Mrs. Vivie's Count!

Montague delivered his message, and then went upstairs to wait untilhis own party should be ready to leave. In the smoking-room were anumber of men, also waiting; and among them he noticed Major Venable, in conversation with a man whom he did not know. "Come over here, " theMajor called; and Montague obeyed, at the same time noticing thestranger. 

He was a tall, loose-jointed, powerfully built man, a small head and avery striking face: a grim mouth with drooping corners tightly set, anda hawk-like nose, and deep-set, peering eyes. "Have you met Mr. Hegan?"said the Major. "Hegan, this is Mr. Allan Montague. " Jim Hegan!Montague repressed a stare and took the chair which they offered him. "Have a cigar, " said Hegan, holding out his case. 

"Mr. Montague has just come to New York, " said the Major. "He is aSoutherner, too. "

"Indeed?" said Hegan, and inquired what State he came from. Montaguereplied, and added, "I had the pleasure of meeting your daughter lastweek, at the Horse Show. "

That served to start a conversation; for Hegan came from Texas, andwhen he found that Montague knew about horses--real horses--he warmedto him. Then the Major's party called him away, and the other two wereleft to carry on the conversation. 

It was very easy to chat with Hegan; and yet underneath, in the other'smind, there lurked a vague feeling of trepidation, as he realized thathe was chatting with a hundred millions of dollars. Montague was newenough at the game to imagine that there ought to be something strange, some atmosphere of awe and mystery, about a man who was master of adozen railroads and of the politics of half a dozen States. He wassimple and very kindly in his manner, a plain man, interested in plainthings. There was about him, as he talked, a trace of timidity, almostof apology, which Montague noticed and wondered at. It was only later, when he had time to think about it, that he realized that Hegan hadbegun as a farmer's boy in Texas, a "poor white"; and could it be thatafter all these years an instinct remained in him, so that whenever hemet a gentleman of the old South he stood by with a little deference, seeming to beg pardon for his hundred millions of dollars?

And yet there was the power of the man. Even chatting about horses, youfelt it; you felt that there was a part of him which did not chat, butwhich sat behind and watched. And strangest of all, Montague foundhimself fancying that behind the face that smiled was another face, that did not smile, but that was grim and set. It was a strange face, with its broad, sweeping eyebrows and its drooping mouth; it hauntedMontague and made him feel ill at ease. 

There came Laura Hegan, who greeted them in her stately way; and Mrs. Hegan, bustling and vivacious, costumed en grande dame. "Come and seeme some time, " said the man. "You won't be apt to meet me otherwise, for I don't go about much. " And so they took their departure; andMontague sat alone and smoked and thought. The face still stayed withhim; and now suddenly, in a burst of light, it came to him what it was:the face of a bird of prey--of the great wild, lonely eagle! You haveseen it, perhaps, in a menagerie; sitting high up, submittingpatiently, biding its time. But all the while the soul of the eagle isfar away, ranging the wide spaces, ready for the lightning swoop, andthe clutch with the cruel talons!

CHAPTER X

The next week was a busy one for the Montagues. The Robbie Wallings hadcome to town and opened their house, and the time drew near for thewonderful débutante dance at which Alice was to be formally presentedto Society. And of course Alice must have a new dress for the occasion, and it must be absolutely the most beautiful dress ever known. In anidle moment her cousin figured out that it was to cost her about fivedollars a minute to be entertained by the Wallings!

What it would cost the Wallings, one scarcely dared to think. Theirballroom would be turned into a flower-garden; and there would be asupper for a hundred guests, and still another supper after the dance, and costly favours for every figure. The purchasing of these latter hadbeen entrusted to Oliver, and Montague heard with dismay what they wereto cost. "Robbie couldn't afford to do anything second-rate, " was theyounger brother's only reply to his exclamations. 

Alice divided her time between the Wallings and her costumiers, andevery evening she came home with a new tale of important developments. Alice was new at the game, and could afford to be excited; and Mrs. Robbie liked to see her bright face, and to smile indulgently at hereager inquiries. Mrs. Robbie herself had given her orders to hersteward and her florist and her secretary, and went on her way andthought no more about it. That was the way of the great ladies--or, atany rate, it was their pose. 

The town-house of the Robbies was a stately palace occupying a blockupon Fifth Avenue--one of the half-dozen mansions of the Walling familywhich were among the show places of the city. It would take a catalogueto list the establishments maintained by the Wallings--there was anestate in North Carolina, and another in the Adirondacks, and others onLong Island and in New Jersey. Also there were several in Newport--onewhich was almost never occupied, and which Mrs. Billy Aldensarcastically described as "a three-million-dollar castle on a desert. "

Montague accompanied Alice once or twice, and had an opportunity tostudy Mrs. Robbie at home. There were thirty-eight servants in herestablishment; it was a little state all in itself, with Mrs. Robbie asqueen, and her housekeeper as prime minister, and under them as manydifferent ranks and classes and castes as in a feudal principality. There had to be six separate dining-rooms for the various kinds ofservants who scorned each other; there were servants' servants andservants of servants' servants. There were only three to whom themistress was supposed to give orders--the butler, the steward, and thehousekeeper; she did not even know the names of many of them, and theywere changed so often, that, as she declared, she had to leave it toher detective to distinguish between employees and burglars. 

Mrs. Robbie was quite a young woman, but it pleased her to pose as acare-worn matron, weary of the responsibilities of her exalted station. The ignorant looked on and pictured her as living in the lap of ease, endowed with every opportunity: in reality the meanest kitchen-maid wasfreer--she was quite worn thin with the burdens that fell upon her. Thehuge machine was for ever threatening to fall to pieces, and requiredthe wisdom of Solomon and the patience of Job to keep it running. Onepaid one's steward a fortune, and yet he robbed right and left, andquarrelled with the chef besides. The butler was suspected of gettingdrunk upon rare and costly vintages, and the new parlour-maid hadturned out to be a Sunday reporter in disguise. The man who had comeevery day for ten years to wind the clocks of the establishment wasdead, and the one who took care of the bric-a-brac was sick, and thehousekeeper was in a panic over the prospect of having to train another. 

And even suppose that you escaped from these things, the real problemsof your life had still to be faced. It was not enough to keep alive;you had your career--your duties as a leader of Society. There was thedaily mail, with all the pitiful letters from people beggingmoney--actually in one single week there were demands for two milliondollars. There were geniuses with patent incubators and stove-lifters, and every time you gave a ball you stirred up swarms of anarchists andcranks. And then there were the letters you really had to answer, andthe calls that had to be paid. These latter were so many that people inthe same neighbourhood had arranged to have the same day at home; thus, if you lived on Madison Avenue you had Thursday; but even then it tooka whole afternoon to leave your cards. And then there were invitationsto be sent and accepted; and one was always making mistakes andoffending somebody--people would become mortal enemies overnight, andexpect all the world to know it the next morning. And now there were somany divorces and remarryings, with consequent changing of names; andsome men knew about their wives' lovers and didn't care, and some didcare, but didn't know--altogether it was like carrying a dozen chessgames in your head. And then there was the hairdresser and themanicurist and the masseuse, and the tailor and the bootmaker and thejeweller; and then one absolutely had to glance through a newspaper, and to see one's children now and then. 

All this Mrs. Robbie explained at luncheon; it was the rich man'sburden, about which common people had no conception whatever. A personwith a lot of money was like a barrel of molasses--all the flies in theneighbourhood came buzzing about. It was perfectly incredible, thelengths to which people would go to get invited to your house; not onlywould they write and beg you, they might attack your businessinterests, and even bribe your friends. And on the other hand, whenpeople thought you needed them, the time you had to get them to come!"Fancy, " said Mrs. Robbie, "offering to give a dinner to an Englishcountess, and having her try to charge you for coming!" And incredibleas it might seem, some people had actually yielded to her, and thedisgusting creature had played the social celebrity for a whole season, and made quite a handsome income out of it. There seemed to be no limitto the abjectness of some of the tuft-hunters in Society. 

It was instructive to hear Mrs. Robbie denounce such evils; andyet--alas for human frailty--the next time that Montague called, thegreat lady was blazing with wrath over the tidings that a new foreignprince was coming to America, and that Mrs. Ridgely-Clieveden hadstolen a march upon her and grabbed him. He was to be under hertutelage the entire time, and all the effulgence of his magnificencewould be radiated upon that upstart house. Mrs. Robbie revenged herselfby saying as many disagreeable things about Mrs. Ridgley-Clieveden asshe could think of; winding up with the declaration that if she behavedwith this prince as she had with the Russian grand duke, Mrs. RobbieWalling, for one, would cut her dead. And truly the details which Mrs. Robbie cited were calculated to suggest that her rival's hospitalitywas a reversion to the customs of primitive savagery. 

The above is a fair sample of the kind of conversation that one heardwhenever one visited any of the Wallings. Perhaps, as Mrs. Robbie said, it may have been their millions that made necessary their attitudetoward other people; certain it was, at any rate, that Montague foundthem all most disagreeable people to know. There was always sometempest in a teapot over the latest machinations of their enemies. Andthen there was the whole dead mass of people who sponged upon them andtoadied to them; and finally the barbarian hordes outside the magiccircle of their acquaintance--some specimens of whom came up every dayfor ridicule. They had big feet and false teeth; they ate mush andmolasses; they wore ready-made ties; they said: "Do you wish that Ishould do it?" Their grandfathers had been butchers and pedlars andother abhorrent things. Montague tried his best to like the Wallings, because of what they were doing for Alice; but after he had sat attheir lunch-table and listened to a conversation such as this, he foundhimself in need of fresh air. 

And then he would begin to wonder about his own relation to thesepeople. If they talked about every one else behind their backs, certainly they must talk about him behind his. And why did they go outof their way to make him at home, and why were they spending theirmoney to launch Alice in Society? In the beginning he had assumed thatthey did it out of the goodness of their hearts; but now that he hadlooked into their hearts, he rejected the explanation. It was not theirway to shower princely gifts upon strangers; in general, the attitudeof all the Wallings toward a stranger was that of the Londonhooligan--"'Eave a 'arf a brick at 'im!" They considered themselvesespecially appointed by Providence to protect Society from the vulgarnewly rich who poured into the city, seeking for notoriety andrecognition. They prided themselves upon this attitude--they called ittheir "exclusiveness"; and the exclusiveness of the younger generationsof Wallings had become a kind of insanity. 

Nor could the reason be that Alice was beautiful and attractive. Onecould have imagined it if Mrs. Robbie had been like--say, Mrs. WinnieDuval. It was easy to think of Mrs. Winnie taking a fancy to a girl, and spending half her fortune upon her. But from a hundred littlethings that he had seen, Montague had come to realize that the RobbieWallings, with all their wealth and power and grandeur, were actuallyquite stingy. While all the world saw them scattering fortunes in theirpathway, in reality they were keeping track of every dollar. And Robbiehimself was liable to panic fits of economy, in which he went to themost absurd excesses--Montague once heard him haggling over fifty centswith a cabman. Lavish hosts though they both were, it was the literaltruth that they never spent money upon anyone but themselves--the endand aim of their every action was the power and prestige of the RobbieWallings. 

"They do it because they are friends of mine, " said Oliver, andevidently wished that to satisfy his brother. But it only shifted theproblem and set him to watching Robbie and Oliver, and trying to makeout the basis of their relationship. There was a very grave questionconcerned in this. Oliver had come to New York comparatively poor, andnow he was rich--or, at any rate, he lived like a rich man. And hisbrother, whose scent was growing keener with every day of his stay inNew York, had about made up his mind that Oliver got his money fromRobbie Walling. 

Here, again, the problem would have been simple, if it had been anotherperson than Robbie; Montague would have concluded that his brother wasa "hanger-on. " There were many great families whose establishments wereinfested with such parasites. Siegfried Harvey, for instance, was a manwho had always half a dozen young chaps hanging about him; good-lookingand lively fellows, who hunted and played bridge, and amused themarried women while their husbands were at work, and who, if ever theydropped a hint that they were hard up, might be reasonably certain ofbeing offered a cheque. But if the Robbie Wallings were to writecheques, it must be for value received. And what could the value be?

"Ollie" was rather a little god among the ultra-swagger; his taste wasa kind of inspiration. And yet his brother noticed that in suchquestions he always deferred instantly to the Wallings; and surely theWallings were not people to be persuaded that they needed anyone toguide them in matters of taste. Again, Ollie was the very devil of awit, and people were heartily afraid of him; and Montague had noticedthat he never by any chance made fun of Robbie--that the fetiches ofthe house of Walling were always treated with respect. So he hadwondered if by any chance Robbie was maintaining his brother inprincely state for the sake of his ability to make other peopleuncomfortable. But he realized that the Robbies, in their own view ofit, could have no more need of wit than a battleship has need ofpopguns. Oliver's position, when they were about, was rather that ofthe man who hardly ever dared to be as clever as he might, because ofthe restless jealousy of his friend. 

It was a mystery; and it made the elder brother very uncomfortable. Alice was young and guileless, and a pleasant person to patronize; buthe was a man of the world, and it was his business to protect her. Hehad always paid his own way through life, and he was very loath to puthimself under obligations to people like the Wallings, whom he did notlike, and who, he felt instinctively, could not like him. 

But of course there was nothing he could do about it. The date for thegreat festivity was set; and the Wallings were affable and friendly, and Alice all a-tremble with excitement. The evening arrived, and withit came the enemies of the Wallings, dressed in their jewels and fineraiment. They had been asked because they were too important to beskipped, and they had come because the Wallings were too powerful to beignored. They revenged themselves by consuming many courses ofelaborate and costly viands; and they shook hands with Alice and beamedupon her, and then discussed her behind her back as if she were aFrench doll in a show-case. They decided unanimously that her eldercousin was a "stick, " and that the whole family were interlopers andshameless adventurers; but it was understood that since the RobbieWallings had seen fit to take them up, it would be necessary to invitethem about. 

At any rate, that was the way it all seemed to Montague, who had beenbrooding. To Alice it was a splendid festivity, to which exquisitepeople came to take delight in each other's society. There weregorgeous costumes and sparkling gems; there was a symphony of perfumes, intoxicating the senses, and a golden flood of music streaming by;there were laughing voices and admiring glances, and handsome partnerswith whom one might dance through the portals of fairyland. --And then, next morning, there were accounts in all the newspapers, withdescriptions of one's costume and then some of those present, and eventhe complete menus of the supper, to assist in preserving the memoriesof the wonderful occasion. 

Now they were really in Society. A reporter called to get Alice's photofor the Sunday supplement; and floods of invitations came--and withthem all the cares and perplexities about which Mrs. Robbie had told. Some of these invitations had to be declined, and one must know whom itwas safe to offend. Also, there was a long letter from a destitutewidow, and a proposal from a foreign count. Mrs. Robbie's secretary hada list of many hundreds of these professional beggars and blackmailers. 

Conspicuous at the dance was Mrs. Winnie, in a glorious electric-bluesilk gown. And she shook her fan at Montague, exclaiming, "You wretchedman--you promised to come and see me!"

"I've been out of town, " Montague protested. 

"Well, come to dinner to-morrow night, " said Mrs. Winnie. "There'll besome bridge fiends. "

"You forget I haven't learned to play, " he objected. 

"Well, come anyhow, " she replied. "We'll teach you. I'm no playermyself, and my husband will be there, and he's good-natured; and mybrother Dan--he'll have to be whether he likes it or not. "

So Montague visited the Snow Palace again, and met Winton Duval, thebanker, --a tall, military-looking man of about fifty, with a big greymoustache, and bushy eyebrows, and the head of a lion. His was one ofthe city's biggest banking-houses, and in alliance with powerfulinterests in the Street. At present he was going in for mines in Mexicoand South America, and so he was very seldom at home. He was a man ofmost rigid habits--he would come back unexpectedly after a month'strip, and expect to find everything ready for him, both at home and inhis office, as if he had just stepped round the corner. Montagueobserved that he took his menu-card and jotted down his comments uponeach dish, and then sent it down to the chef. Other people's dinners hevery seldom attended, and when his wife gave her entertainments, heinvariably dined at the club. 

He pleaded a business engagement for the evening; and as brother Dandid not appear, Montague did not learn any bridge. The other fourguests settled down to the game, and Montague and Mrs. Winnie sat andchatted, basking before the fireplace in the great entrance-hall. 

"Have you seen Charlie Carter?" was the first question she asked him. 

"Not lately, " he answered; "I met him at Harvey's. "

"I know that, " said she. "They tell me he got drunk. "

"I'm afraid he did, " said Montague. 

"Poor boy!" exclaimed Mrs. Winnie. "And Alice saw him! He must beheartbroken!"

Montague said nothing. "You know, " she went on, "Charlie really meanswell. He has honestly an affectionate nature. "

She paused; and Montague Said, vaguely, "I suppose so. "

"You don't like him, " said the other. "I can see that. And I supposenow Alice will have no use for him, either. And I had it all fixed upfor her to reform him!"

Montague smiled in spite of himself. 

"Oh, I know, " said she. "It wouldn't have been easy. But you've no ideawhat a beautiful boy Charlie used to be, until all the women set towork to ruin him. "

"I can imagine it, " said Montague; but he did not warm to the subject. 

"You're just like my husband, " said Mrs. Winnie, sadly. "You have nouse at all for anything that's weak or unfortunate. "

There was a pause. "And I suppose, " she said finally, "you'll beturning into a business man also--with no time for anybody or anything. Have you begun yet?"

"Not yet, " he answered. "I'm still looking round. "

"I haven't the least idea about business, " she confessed. "How does onebegin at it?"

"I can't say I know that myself as yet, " said Montague, laughing. 

"Would you like to be a protege of my husband's?" she asked. 

The proposition was rather sudden, but he answered, with a smile, "Ishould have no objections. What would he do with me?"

"I don't know that. But he can do whatever he wants down town. And he'dshow you how to make a lot of money if I asked him to. " Then Mrs. Winnie added, quickly, "I mean it--he could do it, really. "

"I haven't the least doubt of it, " responded Montague. 

"And what's more, " she went on, "you don't want to be shy about takingadvantage of the opportunities that come to you. You'll find you won'tget along in New York unless you go right in and grab what you can. People will be quick enough to take advantage of you. "

"They have all been very kind to me so far, " said he. "But when I getready for business, I'll harden my heart. "

Mrs. Winnie sat lost in meditation. "I think business is dreadful, " shesaid. "So much hard work and worry! Why can't men learn to get alongwithout it?"

"There are bills that have to be paid, " Montague replied. 

"It's our dreadfully extravagant way of life, " exclaimed the other. "Sometimes I wish I had never had any money in my life. "

"You would soon tire of it, " said he. "You would miss this house. "

"I should not miss it a bit, " said Mrs. Winnie, promptly. "That isreally the truth--I don't care for this sort of thing at all. I'd liketo live simply, and without so many cares and responsibilities. Andsome day I'm going to do it, too--I really am. I'm going to get myselfa little farm, away off somewhere in the country. And I'm going thereto live and raise chickens and vegetables, and have my ownflower-gardens, that I can take care of myself. It will all be plainand simple--" and then Mrs. Winnie stopped short, exclaiming, "You arelaughing at me!"

"Not at all!" said Montague. "But I couldn't help thinking about thenewspaper reporters--"

"There you are!" said she. "One can never have a beautiful dream, ortry to do anything sensible--because of the newspaper reporters!"

If Montague had been meeting Mrs. Winnie Duval for the first time, hewould have been impressed by her yearnings for the simple life; hewould have thought it an important sign of the times. But alas, he knewby this time that his charming hostess had more flummery about her thananybody else he had encountered--and all of her own devising! Mrs. Winnie smoked her own private brand of cigarettes, and when she offeredthem to you, there were the arms of the old ducal house of Montmorencion the wrappers! And when you got a letter from Mrs. Winnie, youobserved a three-cent stamp upon the envelope--for lavender was hercolour, and two-cent stamps were an atrocious red! So one might feelcertain that it Mrs. Winnie ever went in for chicken-raising, thechickens would be especially imported from China or Patagonia, and thechicken-coops would be precise replicas of those in the old Chateau deMontmorenci which she had visited in her automobile. 

But Mrs. Winnie was beautiful, and quite entertaining to talk to, andso he was respectfully sympathetic while she told him about herpastoral intentions. And then she told him about Mrs. Caroline Smythe, who had called a meeting of her friends at one of the big hotels, andorganized a society and founded the "Bide-a-Wee Home" for destitutecats. After that she switched off into psychic research--somebody hadtaken her to a seance, where grave college professors and ladies inspectacles sat round and waited for ghosts to materialize. It was Mrs. Winnie's first experience at this, and she was as excited as a childwho has just found the key to the jam-closet. "I hardly knew whether tolaugh or to be afraid, " she said. "What would you think?"

"You may have the pleasure of giving me my first impressions of it, "said Montague, with a laugh. 

"Well, " said she, "they had table-tipping--and it was the most uncannything to see the table go jumping about the room! And then there wereraps--and one can't imagine how strange it was to see people who reallybelieved they were getting messages from ghosts. It positively made myflesh creep. And then this woman--Madame Somebody-or-other--went into atrance--ugh! Afterward I talked with one of the men, and he told meabout how his father had appeared to him in the night and told him hehad just been drowned at sea. Have you ever heard of such a thing?"

"We have such a tradition in our family, " said he. 

"Every family seems to have, " said Mrs. Winnie. "But, dear me, it mademe so uncomfortable--I lay awake all night expecting to see my ownfather. He had the asthma, you know; and I kept fancying I heard himbreathing. "

They had risen and were strolling into the conservatory; and sheglanced at the man in armour. "I got to fancying that his ghost mightcome to see me, " she said. "I don't think I shall attend any moreseances. My husband was told that I promised them some money, and hewas furious--he's afraid it'll get into the papers. " And Montague shookwith inward laughter, picturing what a time the aristocratic andstately old banker must have, trying to keep his wife out of the papers!

Mrs. Winnie turned on the lights in the fountain, and sat by the edge, gazing at her fish. Montague was half expecting her to inquire whetherhe thought that they had ghosts; but she spared him this, going off onanother line. 

"I asked Dr. Parry about it, " she said. "Have you met him?"

Dr. Parry was the rector of St. Cecilia's, the fashionable Fifth Avenuechurch which most of Montague's acquaintances attended. "I haven't beenin the city over Sunday yet, " he answered. "But Alice has met him. "

"You must go with me some time, " said she. "But about the ghosts--"

"What did he say?"

"He seemed to be shy of them, " laughed Mrs. Winnie. "He said it had atendency to lead one into dangerous fields. But oh! I forgot--I askedmy swami also, and it didn't startle him. They are used to ghosts; theybelieve that souls keep coming back to earth, you know. I think if itwas his ghost, I wouldn't mind seeing it--for he has such beautifuleyes. He gave me a book of Hindu legends--and there was such a sweetstory about a young princess who loved in vain, and died of grief; andher soul went into a tigress; and she came in the night-time where herlover lay sleeping by the firelight, and she carried him off into theghost-world. It was a most creepy thing--I sat out here and read it, and I could imagine the terrible tigress lurking in the shadows, withits stripes shining in the firelight, and its green eyes gleaming. Youknow that poem--we used to read it in school--'Tiger, tiger, burningbright!'"

It was not very easy for Montague to imagine a tigress in Mrs. Winnie'sconservatory; unless, indeed, one were willing to take the propositionin a metaphorical sense. There are wild creatures which sleep in theheart of man, and which growl now and then, and stir their tawny limbs, and cause one to start and turn cold. Mrs. Winnie wore a dress of filmysoftness, trimmed with red flowers which paled beside her own intensercolouring. She had a perfume of her own, with a strange exoticfragrance which touched the chorus of memory as only an odour can. Sheleaned towards him, speaking eagerly, with her soft white arms lyingupon the basin's rim. So much loveliness could not be gazed at withoutpain; and a faint trembling passed through Montague, like a breezeacross a pool. Perhaps it touched Mrs. Winnie also, for she fellsuddenly silent, and her gaze wandered off into the darkness. For aminute or two there was stillness, save for the pulse of the fountain, and the heaving of her bosom keeping time with it. 

And then in the morning Oliver inquired, "Where were you, last night?"And when his brother answered, "At Mrs. Winnie's, " he smiled and said, "Oh!" Then he added, gravely, "Cultivate Mrs. Winnie--you can't dobetter at present. "

CHAPTER XI

Montague accepted his friend's invitation to share her pew at St. Cecilia's, and next Sunday morning he and Alice went, and found Mrs. Winnie with her cousin. Poor Charlie had evidently been scrubbed andshined, both physically and morally, and got ready to appeal for "onemore chance. " While he shook hands with Alice, he was gazing at herwith dumb and pleading eyes; he seemed to be profoundly grateful thatshe did not refuse to enter the pew with him. 

A most interesting place was St. Cecilia's. Church-going was another ofthe customs of men and women which Society had taken up, like theOpera, and made into a state function. Here was a magnificent temple, with carved marble and rare woods, and jewels gleaming decorously in adim religious light. At the door of this edifice would halt thecarriages of Society, and its wives and daughters would alight, rustling with new silk petticoats and starched and perfumed linen, eachone a picture, exquisitely gowned and bonneted and gloved, and carryinga demure little prayer-book. Behind them followed the patient men, allin new frock-coats and shiny silk hats; the men of Society were alwaysnewly washed and shaved, newly groomed and gloved, but now they seemedto be more so--they were full of the atmosphere of Sunday. Alas forthose unregenerate ones, the infidels and the heathen who scoff inouter darkness, and know not the delicious feeling of Sunday--the joyof being washed and starched and perfumed, and made to be clean andcomfortable and good, after all the really dreadful wickedness of sixdays of fashionable life!--And afterward the parade upon the Avenue, with the congregations of several score additional churches, and such ashow of stylish costumes that half the city came to see!

Amid this exquisite assemblage at St. Cecilia's, the revolutionarydoctrines of the Christian religion produced neither perplexity noralarm. The chance investigator might have listened in dismay to solemnpronouncements of everlasting damnation, to statements about rich menand the eyes of needles, and the lilies of the field which did notspin. But the congregation of St. Cecilia's understood that thesethings were to be taken in a quixotic sense; sharing the view of theFrench marquis that the Almighty would think twice before damning agentleman like him. 

One had heard these phrases ever since childhood, and one accepted themas a matter of course. After all, these doctrines had come from thelips of a divine being, whom it would be presumptuous in a mere mortalto attempt to imitate. Such points one could but leave to those whosebusiness it was to interpret them--the doctors and dignitaries of thechurch; and when one met them, one's heart was set at rest--for theywere not iconoclasts and alarmists, but gentlemen of culture and tact. The bishop who presided in this metropolitan district was a statelypersonage, who moved in the best Society and belonged to the mostexclusive clubs. 

The pews in St. Cecilia's were rented, and they were always in greatdemand; it was one of the customs of those who hung upon the fringe ofSociety to come every Sunday, and bow and smile, and hope against hopefor some chance opening. The stranger who came was dependent uponhospitality; but there were soft-footed and tactful ushers, who wouldfind one a seat, if one were a presentable person. The contingency ofan unpresentable person seldom arose, for the proletariat did not swarmat the gates of St. Cecilia's. Out of its liberal income the churchmaintained a "mission" upon the East Side, where young curates wrestledwith the natural depravity of the lower classes--meantime cultivating asoul-stirring tone, and waiting until they should be promoted to a realchurch. Society was becoming deferential to its religious guides, andwould have been quite shocked at the idea that it exerted any pressureupon them; but the young curates were painfully aware of a process ofunnatural selection, whereby those whose manner and cut of coat werenot pleasing were left a long time in the slums. --On one occasion therehad been an amusing blunder; a beautiful new church was built atNewport, and an eloquent young minister was installed, and all Societyattended the opening service--and sat and listened in consternation toan arraignment of its own follies and vices! The next Sunday, needlessto say, Society was not present; and within half a year the church wasstranded, and had to be dismantled and sold!

They had elaborate music at St. Cecilia's, so beautiful that Alice feltuncomfortable, and thought that it was perilously "high. " At this Mrs. Winnie laughed, offering to take her to an afternoon service around thecorner, where they had a full orchestra, and a harp, and opera music, and incense and genuflexions and confessionals. There were people, itseemed, who like to thrill themselves by dallying with the wickednessof "Romanism"; somewhat as a small boy tries to see how near he canwalk to the edge of a cliff. The "father" at this church had a jewelledrobe with a train so many yards long, and which had cost someincredible number of thousands of dollars; and every now and then hemarched in a stately procession through the aisles, so that all thespectators might have a good look at it. There was a fierce controversyabout these things in the church, and libraries of pamphlets werewritten, and intrigues and social wars were fought over them. 

But Montague and Alice did not attend this service--they had promisedthemselves the very plebeian diversion of a ride in the subway; for sofar they had not seen this feature of the city. People who lived inSociety saw Madison and Fifth Avenues, where their homes were, with thechurches and hotels scattered along them; and the shopping districtjust below, and the theatre district at one side, and the park to thenorth. Unless one went automobiling, that was all of the city one needever see. When visitors asked about the Aquarium, and the StockExchange, and the Museum of Art, and Tammany Hall, and Ellis Island, where the immigrants came, the old New Yorkers would look perplexed, and say: "Dear me, do you really want to see those tilings? Why, I havebeen here all my life, and have never seen them!"

For the hordes of sightseers there had been provided a specialcontrivance, a huge automobile omnibus which seated thirty or fortypeople, and went from the Battery to Harlem with a young man shoutingthrough a megaphone a description of the sights. The irreverent hadnicknamed this the "yap-wagon"; and declared that the companymaintained a fake "opium-joint" in Chinatown, and a fake "dive" in theBowery, and hired tough-looking individuals to sit and be stared at bycredulous excursionists from Oklahoma and Kalamazoo. Of course it wouldnever have done for people who had just been passed into Society toclimb upon a "yap-wagon"; but they were permitted to get into thesubway, and were whirled with a deafening clatter through a long tunnelof steel and stone. And then they got out and climbed a steep hill likeany common mortals, and stood and gazed at Grant's tomb: a huge whitemarble edifice upon a point overlooking the Hudson. Architecturally itwas not a beautiful structure--but one was consoled by reflecting thatthe hero himself would not have cared about that. It might have beendescribed as a soap-box with a cheese-box on top of it; and thesehomely and familiar articles were perhaps not altogether out of keepingwith the character of the humblest great man who ever lived. 

The view up the river was magnificent, quite the finest which the cityhad to offer; but it was ruined by a hideous gas-tank, placed squarelyin the middle of it. And this, again, was not inappropriate--it wastypical of all the ways of the city. It was a city which had grown upby accident, with nobody to care about it or to help it; it was hugeand ungainly, crude, uncomfortable, and grotesque. There was nowhere init a beautiful sight upon which a man could rest his eyes, withouthaving them tortured by something ugly near by. At the foot of theslope of the River Drive ran a hideous freight-railroad; and across theriver the beautiful Palisades were being blown to pieces to make pavingstone--and meantime were covered with advertisements of land-companies. And if there was a beautiful building, there, was sure to be a tobaccoadvertisement beside it; if there was a beautiful avenue, there weretrucks and overworked horses toiling in the harness; if there was abeautiful park, it was filled with wretched, outcast men. Nowhere wasany order or system--everything was struggling for itself, and jarringand clashing with everything else; and this broke the spell of powerwhich the Titan city would otherwise have produced. It seemed like amonstrous heap of wasted energies; a mountain in perpetual labour, andproducing an endless series of abortions. The men and women in it werewearing themselves out with toil; but there was a spell laid upon them, so that, struggle as they might, they accomplished nothing. 

Coming out of the church, Montague had met Judge Ellis; and the Judgehad said, "I shall soon have something to talk over with you. " SoMontague gave him his address, and a day or two later came aninvitation to lunch with him at his club. 

The Judge's club took up a Fifth Avenue block, and was stately andimposing. It had been formed in the stress of the Civil War days; leanand hungry heroes had come home from battle and gone into business, andthose who had succeeded had settled down here to rest. To see them now, dozing in huge leather-cushioned arm-chairs, you would have had a hardtime to guess that they had ever been lean and hungry heroes. They werediplomats and statesmen, bishops and lawyers, great merchants andfinanciers--the men who had made the city's ruling-class for a century. Everything here was decorous and grave, and the waiters stole aboutwith noiseless feet. 

Montague talked with the Judge about New York and what he had seen ofit, and the people he had met; and about his father, and the war; andabout the recent election and the business outlook. And meantime theyordered luncheon; and when they had got to the cigars, the Judgecoughed and said, "And now I have a matter of business to talk overwith you. "

Montague settled himself to listen. "I have a friend, " the Judgeexplained--"a very good friend, who has asked me to find him a lawyerto undertake an important case. I talked the matter over with GeneralPrentice, and he agreed with me that it would be a good idea to lay thematter before you. "

"I am very much obliged to you, " said Montague. 

"The matter is a delicate one, " continued the other. "It has to do withlife insurance. Are you familiar with the insurance business?"

"Not at all. "

"I had supposed not, " said the Judge. "There are some conditions whichare not generally known about, but which I may say, to put it mildly, are not altogether satisfactory. My friend is a large policy-holder inseveral companies, and he is not satisfied with the management of them. The delicacy of the situation, so far as I am concerned, is that thecompany with which he has the most fault to find is one in which Imyself am a director. You understand?"

"Perfectly, " said Montague. "What company is it?"

"The Fidelity, " replied the other--and his companion thought in a flashof Freddie Vandam, whom he had met at Castle Havens! For the Fidelitywas Freddie's company. 

"The first thing that I have to ask you, " continued the Judge, "isthat, whether you care to take the case or not, you will consider myown intervention in the matter absolutely entre nous. My position issimply this: I have protested at the meetings of the directors of thecompany against what I consider an unwise policy--and my protests havebeen ignored. And when my friend asked me for advice, I gave it to him;but at the same time I am not in a position to be publicly quoted inconnexion with the matter. You follow me?"

"Perfectly, " said the other. "I will agree to what you ask. "

"Very good. Now then, the condition is, in brief, this: the companiesare accumulating an enormous surplus, which, under the law, belongs tothe policy-holders; but the administrations of the various companiesare withholding these dividends, for the sake of the banking-powerwhich these accumulated funds afford to them and their associates. Thisis, as I hold, a very manifest injustice, and a most dangerouscondition of affairs. "

"I should say so!" responded Montague. He was amazed at such astatement, coming from such a source. "How could this continue?" heasked. 

"It has continued for a long time, " the Judge answered. 

"But why is it not known?"

"It is perfectly well known to every one in the insurance business, "was the answer. "The matter has never been taken up or published, simply because the interests involved have such enormous and widelyextended power that no one has ever dared to attack them. "

Montague sat forward, with his eyes riveted upon the Judge. "Go on, " hesaid. 

"The situation is simply this, " said the other. "My friend, Mr. Hasbrook, wishes to bring a suit against the Fidelity Company to compelit to pay to him his proper share of its surplus. He wishes the suitpressed, and followed to the court of last resort. "

"And do you mean to tell me, " asked Montague, "that you would have anydifficulty to find a lawyer in New York to undertake such a case?"

"No, " said the other, "not exactly that. There are lawyers in New Yorkwho would undertake anything. But to find a lawyer of standing whowould take it, and withstand all the pressure that would be brought tobear upon him--that might take some time. "

"You astonish me, Judge. "

"Financial interests in this city are pretty closely tied together, Mr. Montague. Of course there are law firms which are identified withinterests opposed to those who control the company. It would be veryeasy to get them to take the case, but you can see that in that eventmy friend would be accused of bringing the suit in their interest;whereas he wishes it to appear, as it really is, a suit of anindependent person, seeking the rights of the vast body of thepolicy-holders. For that reason, he wished to find a lawyer who wasidentified with no interest of any sort, and who was free to give hisundivided attention to the issue. So I thought of you. "

"I will take the case, " said Montague instantly. 

"It is my duty to warn you, " said the Judge, gravely, "that you will betaking a very serious step. You must be prepared to face powerful, and, I am afraid, unscrupulous enemies. You may find that you have made itimpossible for other and very desirable clients to deal with you. Youmay find your business interests, if you have any, embarrassed--yourcredit impaired, and so on. You must be prepared to have your characterassailed, and your motives impugned in the public press. You may findthat social pressure will be brought to bear on you. So it is a stepfrom which most young men who have their careers to make would shrink. "

Montague's face had turned a shade paler as he listened. "I amassuming, " he said, "that the facts are as you have stated them tome--that an unjust condition exists. "

"You may assume that. "

"Very well. " And Montague clenched his hand, and put it down upon thetable. "I will take the case, " he said. 

For a few moments they sat in silence. 

"I will arrange, " said the Judge, at last, "for you and Mr. Hasbrook tomeet. I must explain to you, as a matter of fairness, that he is a richman, and will be able to pay you for your services. He is asking agreat deal of you, and he should expect to pay for it. "

Montague sat in thought. "I have not really had time to get my bearingsin New York, " he said at last. "I think I had best leave it to you tosay what I should charge him. "

"If I were in your position, " the Judge answered, "I think that Ishould ask a retaining-fee of fifty thousand dollars. I believe he willexpect to pay at least that. "

Montague could scarcely repress a start. Fifty thousand dollars! Thewords made his head whirl round. But then, all of a sudden, he recalledhis half-jesting resolve to play the game of business sternly. So henodded his head gravely, and said, "Very well; I am much obliged toyou. "

After a pause, he added, "I hope that I may prove able to handle thecase to your friend's satisfaction. "

"Your ability remains for you to prove, " said the Judge. "I have onlybeen in position to assure him of your character. "

"He must understand, of course, " said Montague, "that I am a stranger, and that it will take me a while to study the situation. "

"Of course he knows that. But you will find that Mr. Hasbrook knows agood deal about the law himself. And he has already had a lot of workdone. You must understand that it is very easy to get legal adviceabout such a matter--what is sought is some one to take the conduct ofthe case. "

"I see, " said Montague; and the Judge added, with a smile, "Some one toget up on horseback, and draw the fire of the enemy!"

And then the great man was, as usual, reminded of a story; and then ofmore stories; until at last they rose from the table, and shook handsupon their bargain, and parted. 

Fifty thousand dollars! Fifty thousand dollars! It was all Montaguecould do to keep from exclaiming it aloud on the street. He couldhardly believe that it was a reality--if it had been a less-knownperson than Judge Ellis, he would have suspected that some one must beplaying a joke upon him. Fifty thousand dollars was more than many alawyer made at home in a lifetime; and simply as a retaining-fee in onecase! The problem of a living had weighed on his soul ever since thefirst day in the city, and now suddenly it was solved; all in a fewminutes, the way had been swept clear before him. He walked home as ifupon air. 

And then there was the excitement of telling the family about it. Hehad an idea that his brother might be alarmed if he were told about theseriousness of the case; and so he simply said that the Judge hadbrought him a rich client, and that it was an insurance case. Oliver, who knew and cared nothing about law, asked no questions, and contentedhimself with saying, "I told you how easy it was to make money in NewYork, if only you knew the right people!" As for Alice, she had knownall along that her cousin was a great man, and that clients would cometo him as soon as he hung out his sign. 

His sign was not out yet, by the way; that was the next thing to beattended to. He must get himself an office at once, and some books, andbegin to read up insurance law; and so, bright and early the nextmorning, he took the subway down town. 

And here, for the first time, Montague saw the real New York. All therest was mere shadow--the rest was where men slept and played, butthere was where they fought out the battle of their lives. Here thefierce intensity of it smote him in the face--he saw the cruel wasteand ruin of it, the wreckage of the blind, haphazard strife. 

It was a city caught in a trap. It was pent in at one end of a narrowlittle island. It had been no one's business to foresee that it mustsome day outgrow this space; now men were digging a score of tunnels toset it free, but they had not begun these until the pressure had becomeunendurable, and now it had reached its climax. In the financialdistrict, land had been sold for as much as four dollars a square inch. Huge blocks of buildings shot up to the sky in a few months--fifteen, twenty, twenty-five stories of them, and with half a dozen stories hewnout of the solid rock beneath; there was to be one building offorty-two stories, six hundred and fifty feet in height. And betweenthem were narrow chasms of streets, where the hurrying crowdsoverflowed the sidewalks. Yet other streets were filled with trucks andheavy vehicles, with electric cars creeping slowly along, and littleswirls and eddies of people darting across here and there. 

These huge buildings were like beehives, swarming with life andactivity, with scores of elevators shooting through them at bewilderingspeed. Everywhere was the atmosphere of rush; the spirit of it seizedhold of one, and he began to hurry, even though he had no place to go. The man who walked slowly and looked about him was in the way--he wasjostled here and there, and people eyed him with suspicion andannoyance. 

Elsewhere on the island men did the work of the city; here they did thework of the world. Each room in these endless mazes of buildings was acell in a mighty brain; the telephone wires were nerves, and by thewhole huge organism the thinking and willing of a continent were done. It was a noisy place to the physical ear; but to the ear of the mind itroared with the roaring of a thousand Niagaras. Here was the StockExchange, where the scales of trade were held before the eyes of thecountry. Here was the clearing-house, where hundreds of millions ofdollars were exchanged every day. Here were the great banks, thereservoirs into which the streams of the country's wealth were poured. Here were the brains of the great railroad systems, of the telegraphand telephone systems, of mines and mills and factories. Here were thecentres of the country's trade; in one place the shipping trade, inanother the jewellery trade, the grocery trade, the leather trade. Alittle farther up town was the clothing district, where one might seethe signs of more Hebrews than all Jerusalem had ever held; in yetother districts were the newspaper offices, and the centre of themagazine and book-publishing business of the whole country. One mightclimb to the top of one of the great "sky-scrapers, " and gaze down upona wilderness of houses, with roofs as innumerable as tree-tops, andpeople looking like tiny insects below. Or one might go out into theharbour late upon a winter afternoon, and see it as a city of a millionlights, rising like an incantation from the sea. Round about it was anunbroken ring of docks, with ferry-boats and tugs darting everywhere, and vessels which had come from every port in the world, emptying theircargoes into the huge maw of the Metropolis. 

And of all this, nothing had been planned! All lay just as it hadfallen, and men bore the confusion and the waste as best they could. Here were huge steel vaults, in which lay many billions of dollars'worth of securities, the control of the finances of the country; and ablock or two in one direction were warehouses and gin-mills, and inanother direction cheap lodging-houses and sweating-dens. And at acertain hour all this huge machine would come to a halt, and itsmillions of human units would make a blind rush for their homes. Thenat the entrances to bridges and ferries and trams, would be seen sightsof madness and terror; throngs of men and women swept hither andthither, pushing and struggling, shouting, cursing--fighting, now andthen, in sudden panic fear. All decency was forgotten here--peoplewould be mashed into cars like football players in a heap, and guardsand policemen would jam the gates tight--or like as not be swept awaythemselves in the pushing, grunting, writhing mass of human beings. Women would faint and be trampled; men would come out with clothingtorn to shreds, and sometimes with broken arms or ribs. And thinkingpeople would gaze at the sight and shudder, wondering--how long a citycould hold together, when the masses of its population were thus forcedback, day after day, habitually, upon the elemental brute within them. 

In this vast business district Montague would have felt utterly lostand helpless, if it had not been for that fifty thousand dollars, andthe sense of mastery which it gave him. He sought out General Prentice, and under his guidance selected his suite of rooms, and got hisfurniture and books in readiness. And a day or two later, byappointment, came Mr. Hasbrook. 

He was a wiry, nervous little man, who did not impress one as much of apersonality; but he had the insurance situation at his fingers'ends--his grievance had evidently wrought upon him. Certainly, if halfof what he alleged were true, it was time that the courts took hold ofthe affair. 

Montague spent the whole day in consultation, going over every aspectof the case, and laying out his course of procedure. And then, at theend, Mr. Hasbrook remarked that it would be necessary for them to makesome financial arrangement. And the other set his teeth together, andtook a tight grip upon himself, and said, "Considering the importanceof the case, and all the circumstances, I think I should have aretainer of fifty thousand dollars. "

And the little man never turned a hair! "That will be perfectlysatisfactory, " he said. "I will attend to it at once. " And the other'sheart gave a great leap. 

And sure enough, the next morning's mail brought the money, in theshape of a cashier's cheque from one of the big banks. Montaguedeposited it to his own account, and felt that the city was his!

And so he flung himself into the work. He went to his office every day, and he shut himself up in his own rooms in the evening. Mrs. Winnie wasin despair because he would not come and learn bridge, and Mrs. ViviePatton sought him in vain for a week-end party. He could not exactlysay that while the others slept he was toiling upward in the night, forthe others did not sleep in the night; but he could say that while theywere feasting and dancing, he was delving into insurance law. Oliverargued in vain to make him realize that he could not live for ever uponone client; and that it was as important for a lawyer to be a sociallight as to win his first big case. Montague was so absorbed that heeven failed to be thrilled when one morning he opened an invitationenvelope, and read the fateful legend: "Mrs. Devon requests the honourof your company"--telling him that he had "passed" on that criticalexamination morning, and that he was definitely and irrevocably inSociety!

CHAPTER XII

Montague was now a capitalist, and therefore a keeper of the gates ofopportunity. It seemed as though the seekers for admission must havehad some occult way of finding it out; almost immediately they began tolay siege to him. 

About a week after his cheque arrived, Major Thorne, whom he had metthe first evening at the Loyal Legion, called him up and asked to seehim; and he came to Montague's room that evening, and after chattingawhile about old times, proceeded to unfold a business proposition. Itseemed that the Major had a grandson, a young mechanical engineer, whohad been labouring for a couple of years at a very important invention, a device for loading coal upon steamships and weighing it automaticallyin the process. It was a very complicated problem, needless to say, butit had been solved successfully, and patents had been applied for, anda working model constructed. But it had proved unexpectedly difficultto interest the officials of the great steamship companies in thedevice. There was no doubt about the practicability of the machine, orthe economies it would effect; but the officials raised trivialobjections, and caused delays, and offered prices that wereridiculously inadequate. So the young inventor had conceived the ideaof organizing a company to manufacture the machines, and rent them upona royalty. "I didn't know whether you would have any money, " said MajorThorne, "--but I thought you might be in touch with others who could begot to look into the matter. There is a fortune in it for those whotake it up. "

Montague was interested, and he looked over the plans and descriptionswhich his friend had brought, and said that he would see the workingmodel, and talk the proposition over with others. And so the Major tookhis departure. 

The first person Montague spoke to about it was Oliver, with whom hechanced to be lunching, at the latter's club. This was the "All Night"club, a meeting-place of fast young Society men and millionaireBohemians, who made a practice of going to bed at daylight, and hadtaken for their motto the words of Tennyson--"For men may come and menmay go, but I go on for ever. " It was not a proper club for his brotherto join, Oliver considered; Montague's "game" was the heavyrespectable, and the person to put him up was General Prentice. But hewas permitted to lunch there with his brother to chaperon him--and alsoReggie Mann, who happened in, fresh from talking over the itinerary ofthe foreign prince with Mrs. Ridgley-Clieveden, and bringing adiverting account of how Mrs. R. -C. Had had a fisticuffs with her maid. 

Montague mentioned the invention casually, and with no idea that hisbrother would have an opinion one way or the other. But Oliver hadquite a vigorous opinion: "Good God, Allan, you aren't going to letyourself be persuaded into a thing like that!"

"But what do you know about it?" asked the other. "It may be atremendous thing. "

"Of course!" cried Oliver. "But what can you tell about it? You'll belike a child in other people's hands, and they'll be certain to robyou. And why in the world do you want to take risks when you don't haveto?"

"I have to put my money somewhere, " said Montague. 

"His first fee is burning a hole in his pocket!" put in Reggie Mann, with a chuckle. "Turn it over to me, Mr. Montague; and let me spend itin a gorgeous entertainment for Alice; and the prestige of it willbring you more cases than you can handle in a lifetime!"

"He had much better spend it all for soda water than buy a lot of coalchutes with it, " said Oliver: "Wait awhile, and let me find you someplace to put your money, and you'll see that you don't have to take anyrisks. "

"I had no idea of taking it up until I'd made certain of it, " repliedthe other. "And those whose judgment I took would, of course, go inalso. "

The younger man thought for a moment. "You are going to dine with MajorVenable to-night, aren't you?" he asked; and when the other answered inthe affirmative, he continued, "Very well, then, ask him. The Major'sbeen a capitalist for forty years, and if you can get him to take itup, why, you'll know you're safe. "

Major Venable had taken quite a fancy to Montague--perhaps the oldgentleman liked to have somebody to gossip with, to whom all hisanecdotes were new. He had seconded Montague's name at the"Millionaires', " where he lived, and had asked him there to make theacquaintance of some of the other members. Before Montague parted withhis brother, he promised that he would talk the matter over with theMajor. 

The Millionaires' was the show club of the city, the one which theineffably rich had set apart for themselves. It was up by the park, ina magnificent white marble palace which had cost a million dollars. Montague felt that he had never really known the Major until he saw himhere. The Major was excellent at all times and places, but in this clubhe became an edition de luxe of himself. He made his headquarters here, keeping his suite of rooms all the year round; and the atmosphere andsurroundings of the place seemed to be a part of him. 

Montague thought that the Major's face grew redder every day, and thepurple veins in it purpler; or was it that the old gentleman's shirtbosom gleamed more brightly in the glare of the lights? The Major methim in the stately entrance hall, fifty feet square and all of Numidianmarble, with a ceiling of gold, and a great bronze stairway leading tothe gallery above. He apologized for his velvet slippers and for hishobbling walk--he was getting his accursed gout again. But he limpedaround and introduced his friend to the other millionaires--and thentold scandal about them behind their backs. 

The Major was the very type of a blue-blooded old aristocrat; he wasall noblesse oblige to those within the magic circle of hisintimacy--but alas for those outside it! Montague had never heardanyone bully servants as the Major did. "Here you!" he would cry, whensomething went wrong at the table. "Don't you know any better than tobring me a dish like that? Go and send me somebody who knows how to seta table!" And, strange to say, the servants all acknowledged hisperfect right to bully them, and flew with terrified alacrity to do hisbidding. Montague noticed that the whole staff of the club leaped intoactivity whenever the Major appeared; and when he was seated at thetable, he led off in this fashion--"Now I want two dry Martinis. And Iwant them at once--do you understand me? Don't stop to get me anybutter plates or finger-bowls--I want two cock-tails, just as quick asyou can carry them!"

Dinner was an important event to Major Venable--the most important inlife. The younger man humbly declined to make any suggestions, and satand watched while his friend did all the ordering. They had some verysmall oysters, and an onion soup, and a grouse and asparagus, with somewine from the Major's own private store, and then a romaine salad. Concerning each one of these courses, the Major gave specialinjunctions, and throughout his conversation he scattered comments uponthem: "This is good thick soup--lots of nourishment in onion soup. Havethe rest of this?--I think the Burgundy is too cold. Sixty-five is ascold as Burgundy ought ever to be. I don't mind sherry as low assixty. --They always cook a bird too much--Robbie Walling's chef is theonly person I know who never makes a mistake with game. "

All this, of course, was between comments upon the assembledmillionaires. There was Hawkins, the corporation lawyer; a shrewdfellow, cold as a corpse. He was named for an ambassadorship--a veryefficient man. Used to be old Wyman's confidential adviser and buyaldermen for him. --And the man at table with him was Harrison, publisher of the Star; administration newspaper, sound andconservative. Harrison was training for a cabinet position. He was anice little man, and would make a fine splurge in Washington. --And thattall man coming in was Clarke, the steel magnate; and over there wasAdams, a big lawyer also--prominent reformer--civic righteousness andall that sort of stuff. Represented the Oil Trust secretly, and wentdown to Trenton to argue against some reform measure, and took alongfifty thousand dollars in bills in his valise. "A friend of mine gotwind of what he was doing, and taxed him with it, " said the Major, andlaughed gleefully over the great lawyer's reply--"How did I know but Imight have to pay for my own lunch?"--And the fat man with him--thatwas Jimmie Featherstone, the chap who had inherited a big estate. "PoorJimmie's going all to pieces, " the Major declared. "Goes down town toboard meetings now and then--they tell a hair-raising story about himand old Dan Waterman. He had got up and started a long argument, whenWaterman broke in, 'But at the earlier meeting you argued directly tothe contrary, Mr. Featherstone!' 'Did I?' said Jimmie, lookingbewildered. 'I wonder why I did that?' 'Well, Mr. Featherstone, sinceyou ask me, I'll tell you, ' said old Dan--he's savage as a wild boar, you know, and won't be delayed at meetings. 'The reason is that thelast time you were drunker than you are now. If you would adopt auniform standard of intoxication for the directors' meetings of thisroad, it would expedite matters considerably. '"

They had got as far as the romaine salad. The waiter came with a bowlof dressing--and at the sight of it, the old gentleman forgot JimmieFeatherstone. "Why are you bringing me that stuff?" he cried. "I don'twant that! Take it away and get me some vinegar and oil. "

The waiter fled in dismay, while the Major went on growling under hisbreath. Then from behind him came a voice: "What's the matter with youthis evening, Venable? You're peevish!"

The Major looked up. "Hello, you old cormorant, " said he. "How do youdo these days?"

The old cormorant replied that he did very well. He was a pudgy littleman, with a pursed-up, wrinkled face. "My friend Mr. Montague--Mr. Symmes, " said the Major. 

"I am very pleased to meet you, Mr. Montague, " said Mr. Symmes, peeringover his spectacles. 

"And what are you doing with yourself these days?" asked the Major. 

The other smiled genially. "Nothing much, " said he. "Seducing myfriends' wives, as usual. "

"And who's the latest?"

"Read the newspapers, and you'll find out, " laughed Symmes. "I'm toldI'm being shadowed. "

He passed on down the room, chuckling to himself; and the Major said, "That's Maltby Symmes. Have you heard of him?"

"No, " said Montague. 

"He gets into the papers a good deal. He was up in supplementaryproceedings the other day--couldn't pay his liquor bill. "

"A member of the Millionaires'?" laughed Montague. 

"Yes, the papers made quite a joke out of it, " said the other. "But yousee he's run through a couple of fortunes; the last was hismother's--eleven millions, I believe. He's been a pretty lively old boyin his time. "

The vinegar and oil had now arrived, and the Major set to work to dressthe salad. This was quite a ceremony, and Montague took it with amusedinterest. The Major first gathered all the necessary articles together, and looked them all over and grumbled at them. Then he mixed thevinegar and the pepper and salt, a tablespoonful at a time, and pouredit over the salad. Then very slowly and carefully the oil had to bepoured on, the salad being poked and turned about so that it would beall absorbed. Perhaps it was because he was so busy narrating theescapades of Maltby Symmes that the old gentleman kneaded it about solong; all the time fussing over it like a hen-partridge with herchicks, and interrupting himself every sentence or two: "It was Lenore, the opera star, and he gave her about two hundred thousand dollars'worth of railroad shares. (Really, you know, romaine ought not to beserved in a bowl at all, but in a square, flat dish, so that one couldkeep the ends quite dry. ) And when they quarrelled, she found the oldscamp had fooled her--the shares had never been transferred. (One isnot supposed to use a fork at all, you know. ) But she sued him, and hesettled with her for about half the value. (If this dressing were doneproperly, there ought not to be any oil in the bottom of the dish atall. )"

This last remark meant that the process had reached its climax--thatthe long, crisp leaves were receiving their final affectionateoverturnings. While the waiter stood at respectful attention, two orthree pieces at a time were laid carefully upon the little silver plateintended for Montague. "And now, " said the triumphant host, "try it! Ifit's good, it ought to be neither sweet nor bitter, but justright. "--And he watched anxiously while Montague tasted it, saying, "Ifit's the least bit bitter, say so; and we'll send it out. I've toldthem about it often enough before. "

But it was not bitter, and so the Major proceeded to help himself, after which the waiter whisked the bowl away. "I'm told that salad isthe one vegetable we have from the Romans, " said the old boy, as hemunched at the crisp green leaves. "It's mentioned by Horace, youknow. --As I was saying, all this was in Symmes's early days. But sincehis son's been grown up, he's married another chorus-girl. "

After the salad the Major had another cocktail. In the beginningMontague had noticed that his hands shook and his eyes were watery; butnow, after these copious libations, he was vigorous, and, if possible, more full of anecdotes than ever. Montague thought that it would be agood time to broach his inquiry, and so when the coffee had beenserved, he asked, "Have you any objections to talking business afterdinner?"

"Not with you, " said the Major. "Why? What is it?"

And then Montague told him about his friend's proposition, anddescribed the invention. The other listened attentively to the end; andthen, after a pause, Montague asked him, "What do you think of it?"

"The invention's no good, " said the Major, promptly. 

"How do you know?" asked the other. 

"Because, if it had been, the companies would have taken it long ago, without paying him a cent. "

"But he has it patented, " said Montague. 

"Patented hell!" replied the other. "What's a patent to lawyers ofconcerns of that size? They'd have taken it and had it in use fromMaine to Texas; and when he sued, they'd have tied the case up in somany technicalities and quibbles that he couldn't have got to the endof it in ten years--and he'd have been ruined ten times over in theprocess. "

"Is that really done?" asked Montague. 

"Done!" exclaimed the Major. "It's done so often you might say it's theonly thing that's done. --The people are probably trying to take you inwith a fake. "

"That couldn't possibly be so, " responded the other. "The man is afriend--"

"I've found it an excellent rule never to do business with friends, "said the Major, grimly. 

"But listen, " said Montague; and he argued long enough to convince hiscompanion that that could not be the true explanation. Then the Majorsat for a minute or two and pondered; and suddenly he exclaimed, "Ihave it! I see why they won't touch it!"

"What is it?"

"It's the coal companies! They're giving the steamships short weight, and they don't want the coal weighed truly!"

"But there's no sense in that, " said Montague. "It's the steamshipcompanies that won't take the machine. "

"Yes, " said the Major; "naturally, their officers are sharing thegraft. " And he laughed heartily at Montague's look of perplexity. 

"Do you know anything about the business?" Montague asked. 

"Nothing whatever, " said the Major. "I am like the German who shuthimself up in his inner consciousness and deduced the shape of anelephant from first principles. I know the game of big business from Ato Z, and I'm telling you that if the invention is good and thecompanies won't take it, that's the reason; and I'll lay you a wagerthat if you were to make an investigation, some such thing as that iswhat you'd find! Last winter I went South on a steamer, and when we gotnear port, I saw them dumping a ton or two of good food overboard; andI made inquiries, and learned that one of the officials of the companyran a farm, and furnished the stuff--and the orders were to get rid ofso much every trip!"

Montague's jaw had fallen. "What could Major Thorne do against such acombination?" he asked. 

"I don't know, " said the Major, shrugging his shoulders. "It's a caseto take to a lawyer--one who knows the ropes. Hawkins over there wouldknow what to tell you. I should imagine the thing he'd advise would beto call a strike of the men who handle the coal, and tie up thecompanies and bring them to terms. "

"You're joking now!" exclaimed the other. 

"Not at all, " said the Major, laughing again. "It's done all the time. There's a building trust in this city, and the way it put all itsrivals out of business was by having strikes called on their jobs. "

"But how could it do that?"

"Easiest thing in the world. A labour leader is a man with a great dealof power, and a very small salary to live on. And even if he won't sellout--there are other ways. I could introduce you to a man right in thisroom who had a big strike on at an inconvenient time, and he had thepresident of the union trapped in a hotel with a woman, and the poorfellow gave in and called off the strike. "'

"I should think the strikers might sometimes get out of hand, " saidMontague. 

"Sometimes they do, " smiled the other. "There is a regular procedurefor that case. Then you hire detectives and start violence, and callout the militia and put the strike leaders into jail. "

Montague could think of nothing to say to that. The programme seemed tobe complete. 

"You see, " the Major continued, earnestly, "I'm advising you as afriend, and I'm taking the point of view of a man who has money in hispocket. I've had some there always, but I've had to work hard to keepit there. All my life I've been surrounded by people who wanted to dome good; and the way they wanted to do it was to exchange my real moneyfor pieces of paper which they'd had printed with fancy scroll-work andeagles and flags. Of course, if you want to look at the thing from theother side, why, then the invention is most ingenious, and trade isbooming just now, and this is a great country, and merit is all youneed in it--and everything else is just as it ought to be. It makes allthe difference in the world, you know, whether a man is buying a horseor selling him!"

Montague had observed with perplexity that such incendiary talk as thiswas one of the characteristics of people in these lofty altitudes. Itwas one of the liberties accorded to their station. Editors and bishopsand statesmen and all the rest of their retainers had to believe in therespectabilities, even in the privacy of their clubs--the people's earswere getting terribly sharp these days! But among the real giants ofbusiness you might have thought yourself in a society ofrevolutionists; they would tear up the mountain tops and hurl them ateach other. When one of these old war-horses once got started, he wouldtell tales of deviltry to appall the soul of the hardiest muck-rakeman. It was always the other fellow, of course; but then, if you pinnedyour man down, and if he thought that he could trust you--he wouldacknowledge that he had sometimes fought the enemy with the enemy's ownweapons!

But of course one must understand that all this radicalism was forconversational purposes only. The Major, for instance, never had theslightest idea of doing anything about all the evils of which he told;when it came to action, he proposed to do just what he had done all hislife--to sit tight on his own little pile. And the Millionaires' was anexcellent place to learn to do it!

"See that old money-bags over there in the corner, " said the Major. "He's a man you want to fix in your mind--old Henry S. Grimes. Have youheard of him?"

"Vaguely, " said the other. 

"He's Laura Hegan's uncle. She'll have his money also some day--butLord, how he does hold on to it meantime! It's quite tragic, if youcome to know him--he's frightened at his own shadow. He goes in forslum tenements, and I guess he evicts more people in a month than youcould crowd into this building!"

Montague looked at the solitary figure at the table, a man with awizened-up little face like a weasel's, and a big napkin tied aroundhis neck. "That's so as to save his shirt-front for to-morrow, " theMajor explained. "He's really only about sixty, but you'd think he waseighty. Three times every day he sits here and eats a bowl of grahamcrackers and milk, and then goes out and sits rigid in an arm-chair foran hour. That's the regimen his doctors have put him on--angels andministers of grace defend us!"

The old gentleman paused, and a chuckle shook his scarlet jowls. "Onlythink!" he said--"they tried to do that to me! But no, sir--when BobVenable has to eat graham crackers and milk, he'll put in arsenicinstead of sugar! That's the way with many a one of these rich fellows, though--you picture him living in Capuan luxury, when, as a matter offact, he's a man with a torpid liver and a weak stomach, who is put tobed at ten o'clock with a hot-water bag and a flannel night-cap!"

The two had got up and were strolling toward the smoking-room; whensuddenly at one side a door opened, and a group of men came out. At thehead of them was an extraordinary figure, a big powerful body with agrim face. "Hello!" said the Major. "All the big bugs are hereto-night. There must be a governors' meeting. "

"Who is that?" asked his companion; and he answered, "That? Why, that'sDan Waterman. "

Dan Waterman! Montague stared harder than ever, and now he identifiedthe face with the pictures he had seen. Waterman, the Colossus offinance, the Croesus of copper and gold! How many trusts had Watermanorganized! And how many puns had been made upon that name of his!

"Who are the other men?" Montague asked. 

"Oh, they're just little millionaires, " was the reply. 

The "little millionaires" were following as a kind of body-guard; oneof them, who was short and pudgy, was half running, to keep up withWaterman's heavy stride. When they came to the coat-room, they crowdedthe attendants away, and one helped the great man on with his coat, andanother held his hat, and another his stick, and two others tried totalk to him. And Waterman stolidly buttoned his coat, and then seizedhis hat and stick, and without a word to anyone, bolted through thedoor. 

It was one of the funniest sights that Montague had ever seen in hislife, and he laughed all the way into the smoking-room. And, when MajorVenable had settled himself in a big chair and bitten off the end of acigar and lighted it, what floodgates of reminiscence were opened!

For Dan Waterman was one of the Major's own generation, and he knew allhis life and his habits. Just as Montague had seen him there, so he hadbeen always; swift, imperious, terrible, trampling over all opposition;the most powerful men in the city quailed before the glare of his eyes. In the old days Wall Street had reeled in the shock of the conflictsbetween him and his most powerful rival. 

And the Major went on to tell about Waterman's rival, and his life. Hehad been the city's traction-king, old Wyman had been made by him. Hewas the prince among political financiers; he had ruled the Democraticparty in state and nation. He would give a quarter of a million at atime to the boss of Tammany Hall, and spend a million in a singlecampaign; on "dough-day, " when the district leaders came to get theelection funds, there would be a table forty feet long completelycovered with hundred-dollar bills. He would have been the richest manin America, save that he spent his money as fast as he got it. He hadhad the most famous racing-stable in America; and a house on FifthAvenue that was said to be the finest Italian palace in the world. Overthree millions had been spent in decorating it; all the ceilings hadbeen brought intact from palaces abroad, which he had bought anddemolished! The Major told a story to show how such a man lost allsense of the value of money; he had once been sitting at lunch withhim, when the editor of one of his newspapers had come in and remarked, "I told you we would need eight thousand dollars, and the check yousend is for ten. " "I know it, " was the smiling answer--"but somehow Ithought eight seemed harder to write than ten!"

"Old Waterman's quite a spender, too, when it comes to that, " the Majorwent on. "He told me once that it cost him five thousand dollars a dayfor his ordinary expenses. And that doesn't include a million-dollaryacht, nor even the expenses of it. 

"And think of another man I know of who spent a million dollars for agranite pier, so that he could land and see his mistress!--It's a fact, as sure as God made me! She was a well-known society woman, but she waspoor, and he didn't dare to make her rich for fear of the scandal. Soshe had to live in a miserable fifty-thousand-dollar villa; and whenother people's children would sneer at her children because they livedin a fifty-thousand-dollar villa, the answer would be, 'But you haven'tgot any pier!' And if you don't believe that--"

But here suddenly the Major turned, and observed a boy who had broughthim some cigars, and who was now standing near by, pretending tostraighten out some newspapers upon the table. "Here, sir!" cried theMajor, "what do you mean--listening to what I'm saying! Out of the roomwith you now, you rascal!"

CHAPTER XIII

Another week-end came, and with it an invitation from the Lester Toddsto visit them at their country place in New Jersey. Montague was buriedin his books, but his brother routed him out with strenuous protests. His case be damned--was he going to ruin his career for one case? Atall hazards, he must meet people--"people who counted. " And the Toddswere such, a big money crowd, and a power in the insurance world; ifMontague were going to be an insurance lawyer, he could not possiblydecline their invitation. Freddie Vandam would be a guest--and Montaguesmiled at the tidings that Betty Wyman would be there also. He hadobserved that his brother's week-end visits always happened at placeswhere Betty was, and where Betty's granddaddy was not. 

So Montague's man packed his grips, and Alice's maid her trunks; andthey rode with a private-car party to a remote Jersey suburb, and werewhirled in an auto up a broad shell road to a palace upon the top of amountain. Here lived the haughty Lester Todds, and scattered about onthe neighbouring hills, a set of the ultra-wealthy who had withdrawn tothis seclusion. They were exceedingly "classy"; they affected to regardall the Society of the city with scorn, and had their ownall-the-year-round diversions--an open-air horse show in summer, and inthe fall fox-hunting in fancy uniforms. 

The Lester Todds themselves were ardent pursuers of all varieties ofgame, and in various clubs and private preserves they followed theseasons, from Florida and North Carolina to Ontario, with occasionalside trips to Norway, and New Brunswick, and British Columbia. Here athome they had a whole mountain of virgin forest, carefully preserved;and in the Renaissance palace at the summit-which they carelesslyreferred to as a "lodge"--you would find such articles de vertu as aten-thousand-dollar table with a set of two-thousand-dollar chairs, andquite ordinary-looking rugs at ten and twenty thousand dollarseach. --All these prices you might ascertain without any difficulty atall, because there were many newspaper articles describing the house tobe read in an album in the hall. On Saturday afternoons Mrs. Toddwelcomed the neighbours in a pastel grey reception-gown, the front ofwhich contained a peacock embroidered in silk, with jewels in everyfeather, and a diamond solitaire for an eye; and in the evening therewas a dance, and she appeared in a gown with several hundred diamondssewn upon it, and received her guests upon a rug set with jewels tomatch. 

All together, Montague judged this the "fastest" set he had yetencountered; they ate more and drank more and intrigued more openly. Hehad been slowly acquiring the special lingo of Society, but thesepeople had so much more slang that he felt all lost again. A young ladywho was gossiping to him about those present remarked that a certainyouth was a "spasm"; and then, seeing the look of perplexity upon hisface, she laughed, "I don't believe you know what I mean!" Montaguereplied that he had ventured to infer that she did not like him. 

And then there was Mrs. Harper, who came from Chicago by way of London. Ten years ago Mrs. Harper had overwhelmed New York with the millionsbrought from her great department-store; and had then moved on, sighingfor new worlds to conquer. When she had left Chicago, her grammar hadbeen unexceptionable; but since she had been in England, she said "youain't" and dropped all her g's; and when Montague brought down a birdat long range, she exclaimed, condescendingly, "Why, you're quite a dabat it!" He sat in the front seat of an automobile, and heard the greatlady behind him referring to the sturdy Jersey farmers, whose ancestorshad fought the British and Hessians all over the state, as "yourpeasantry. "

It was an extraordinary privilege to have Mrs. Harper for a guest; "athome" she moved about in state recalling that of Queen Victoria, withflags and bunting on the way, and crowds of school children cheering. She kept up half a dozen establishments, and had a hundred thousandacres of game preserves in Scotland. She made a speciality ofcollecting jewels which had belonged to the romantic and picturesquequeens of history. She appeared at the dance in a breastplate ofdiamonds covering the entire front of her bodice, so that she wasliterally clothed in light; and with her was her English friend, Mrs. Percy, who had accompanied her in her triumph through the courts andcamps of Europe, and displayed a famous lorgnette-chain, containing onespecimen of every rare and beautiful jewel known. Mrs. Percy wore agown of cloth of gold tissue, covered with a fortune in Venetian lace, and made a tremendous sensation--until the rumour spread that it was arehash of the costume which Mrs. Harper had worn at the Duchess ofLondon's ball. The Chicago lady herself never by any chance appeared inthe same costume twice. 

Alice had a grand time at the Todds'; all the men fell in love withher--one in particular, a young chap named Fayette, quite threw himselfat her feet. He was wealthy, but unfortunately he had made his money byeloping with a rich girl (who was one of the present party), and so, from a practical point of view, his attentions were not desirable forAlice. 

Montague was left with the task of finding these things out forhimself, for his brother devoted himself exclusively to Betty Wyman. The way these two disappeared between meals was a jest of the wholecompany; so that when they were on their way home, Montague felt calledupon to make paternal inquiries. 

"We're as much engaged as we dare to be, " Oliver answered him. 

"And when do you expect to marry her?"

"God knows, " said he, "I don't. The old man wouldn't give her a cent. "

"And you couldn't support her?"

"I? Good heavens, Allan--do you suppose Betty would consent to be poor?"

"Have you asked her?" inquired Montague. 

"I don't want to ask her, thank you! I've not the least desire to livein a hovel with a girl who's been brought up in a palace. "

"Then what do you expect to do?"

"Well, Betty has a rich aunt in a lunatic asylum. And then I'm makingmoney, you know--and the old boy will have to relent in the end. Andwe're having a very good time in the meanwhile, you know. "

"You can't be very much in love, " said Montague--to which his brotherreplied cheerfully that they were as much in love as they felt likebeing. 

This was on the train Monday morning. Oliver observed that his brotherrelapsed into a brown study, and remarked, "I suppose you're going backnow to bury yourself in your books. You've got to give me one eveningthis week for a dinner that's important. "

"Where's that?" asked the other. 

"Oh, it's a long story, " said Oliver. "I'll explain it to you sometime. But first we must have an understanding about next week, also--Isuppose you've not overlooked the fact that it's Christmas week. Andyou won't be permitted to do any work then. "

"But that's impossible!" exclaimed the other. 

"Nothing else is possible, " said Oliver, firmly. "I've made anengagement for you with the Eldridge Devons up the Hudson--"

"For the whole week?"

"The whole week. And it'll be the most important thing you've done. Mrs. Winnie's going to take us all in her car, and you will make no endof indispensable acquaintances. "

"Oliver, I don't see how in the world I can do it!" the other protestedin dismay, and went on for several minutes arguing and explaining whathe had to do. But Oliver contented himself with the assurance thatwhere there's a will, there's a way. One could not refuse an invitationto spend Christmas with the Eldridge Devons!

And sure enough, there was a way. Mr. Hasbrook had mentioned to himthat he had had considerable work done upon the case, and would havethe papers sent round. And when Montague reached his office thatmorning, he found them there. There was a package of several thousandpages; and upon examining them, he found to his utter consternationthat they contained a complete bill of complaint, with all thenecessary references and citations, and a preliminary draught of abrief--in short, a complete and thoroughgoing preparation of his case. There could not have been less than ten or fifteen thousand dollars'worth of work in the papers; and Montague sat quite aghast, turningover the neatly typewritten sheets. He could indeed afford to attendChristmas house parties, if all his clients were to treat him like this!

He felt a little piqued about it--for he had noted some of these pointsfor himself, and felt a little proud about them. Apparently he was tobe nothing but a figure-head in the case! And he turned to the phoneand called up Mr. Hasbrook, and asked him what he expected him to dowith these papers. There was the whole case here; and was he simply totake them as they stood?

No one could have replied more considerately than did Mr. Hasbrook. Thepapers were for Montague's benefit--he would do exactly as he pleasedwith them. He might use them as they stood, or reject them altogether, or make them the basis for his own work--anything that appealed to hisjudgment would be satisfactory. And so Montague turned about and wrotean acceptance to the formal invitation which had come from the EldridgeDevons. 

Later on in the day Oliver called up, and said that he was to go out todinner the following evening, and that he would call for him at eight. "It's with the Jack Evanses, " Oliver added. "Do you know them?"

Montague had heard the name, as that of the president of a chain ofWestern railroads. "Do you mean him?" he asked. 

"Yes, " said the other. "They're a rum crowd, but there's money in it. I'll call early and explain it to you. "

But it was explained sooner than that. During the next afternoonMontague had a caller--none other than Mrs. Winnie Duval. Some one hadleft Mrs. Winnie some more money, it appeared; and there was a lot ofred tape attached to it, which she wanted the new lawyer to attend to. Also, she said, she hoped that he would charge her a lot of money byway of encouraging himself. It was a mere bagatelle of a hundredthousand or so, from some forgotten aunt in the West. 

The business was soon disposed of, and then Mrs. Winnie asked Montagueif he had any place to go to for dinner that evening: which was theoccasion of his mentioning the Jack Evanses. "O dear me!" said Mrs. Winnie, with a laugh. "Is Ollie going to take you there? What a funnytime you'll have!"

"Do you know them?" asked the other. 

"Heavens, no!" was the answer. "Nobody knows them; but everybody knowsabout them. My husband meets old Evans in business, of course, andthinks he's a good sort. But the family--dear me!"

"How much of it is there?"

"Why, there's the old lady, and two grown daughters and a son. Theson's a fine chap, they say--the old man took him in hand and put himat work in the shops. But I suppose he thought that daughters were toomuch of a proposition for him, and so he sent them to a fancyschool--and, I tell you, they're the most highly polished humanspecimens that ever you encountered!"

It sounded entertaining. "But what does Oliver want with them?" askedMontague, wonderingly. 

"It isn't that he wants them--they want him. They're cumbers, youknow--perfectly frantic. They've come to town to get into Society. "

"Then you mean that they pay Oliver?" asked Montague. 

"I don't know that, " said the other, with a laugh. "You'll have to askOllie. They've a number of the little brothers of the rich hanginground them, picking up whatever plunder's in sight. "

A look of pain crossed Montague's face; and she saw it, and put out herhand with a sudden gesture. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "I've offended you!"

"No, " said he, "it's not that exactly--I wouldn't be offended. But I'mworried about my brother. "

"How do you mean?"

"He gets a lot of money somehow, and I don't know what it means. "

The woman sat for a few moments in silence, watching him. "Didn't hehave any when he came here?" she asked. 

"Not very much, " said he. 

"Because, " she went on, "if he didn't, he certainly managed it verycleverly--we all thought he had. "

Again there was a pause; then suddenly Mrs. Winnie said: "Do you know, you feel differently about money from the way we do in New York. Do yourealize it?"

"I'm not sure, " said he. "How do you mean?"

"You look at it in an old-fashioned sort of way--a person has to earnit--it's a sign of something he's done. It came to me just now, all ina flash--we don't feel that way about money. We haven't any of usearned ours; we've just got it. And it never occurs to us to expectother people to earn it--all we want to know is if they have it. "

Montague did not tell his companion how very profound a remark heconsidered that; he was afraid it would not be delicate to agree withher. He had heard a story of a negro occupant of the "mourners' bench, "who was voluble in confession of his sins, but took exception to thefervour with which the congregation said "Amen!"

"The Evanses used to be a lot funnier than they are now, " continuedMrs. Winnie, after a while. "When they came here last year, they werereally frightful. They had an English chap for social secretary--ayounger son of some broken-down old family. My brother knew a man whohad been one of their intimates in the West, and he said it wasperfectly excruciating--this fellow used to sit at the table and giveorders to the whole crowd: 'Your ice-cream fork should be at your righthand, Miss Mary. --One never asks for more soup, Master Robert. --AndMiss Anna, always move your soup-spoon from you--that's better!'"

"I fancy I shall feel sorry for them, " said Montague. 

"Oh, you needn't, " said the other, promptly. "They'll get what theywant. "

"Do you think so?"

"Why, certainly they will. They've got the money; and they've beenabroad--they're learning the game. And they'll keep at it until theysucceed--what else is there for them to do? And then my husband saysthat old Evans is making himself a power here in the East; so thatpretty soon they won't dare offend him. "

"Does that count?" asked the man. 

"Well, I guess it counts!" laughed Mrs. Winnie. "It has of late. " Andshe went on to tell him of the Society leader who had dared to offendthe daughters of a great magnate, and how the magnate had retaliated byturning the woman's husband out of his high office. That was often theway in the business world; the struggles were supposed to be affairs ofmen, but oftener than not the moving power was a woman's intrigue. Youwould see a great upheaval in Wall Street, and it would be two of thebig men quarrelling over a mistress; you would see some man rushsuddenly into a high office--and that would be because his wife hadsold herself to advance him. 

Mrs. Winnie took him up town in her auto, and he dressed for dinner;and then came Oliver, and his brother asked, "Are you trying to put theEvanses into Society?"

"Who's been telling you about them?" asked the other. 

"Mrs. Winnie, " said Montague. 

"What did she tell you?"

Montague went over her recital, which his brother apparently foundsatisfactory. "It's not as serious as that, " he said, answering theearlier question. "I help them a little now and then. "

"What do you do?"

"Oh, advise them, mostly--tell them where to go and what to wear. Whenthey first came to New York, they were dressed like paraquets, youknow. And"--here Oliver broke into a laugh--"I refrain from makingjokes about them. And when I hear other people abusing them, I pointout that they are sure to land in the end, and will be dangerousenemies. I've got one or two wedges started for them. "

"And do they pay you for doing it?"

"You'd call it paying me, I suppose, " replied the other. "The old mancarries a few shares of stock for me now and then. "

"Carries a few shares?" echoed Montague, and Oliver explained theprocedure. This was one of the customs which had grown up in acommunity where people did not have to earn their money. The recipientof the favour put up nothing and took no risks; but the other personwas supposed to buy some stock for him, and then, when the stock wentup, he would send a cheque for the "profits. " Many a man who would haveresented a direct offer of money, would assent pleasantly when apowerful friend offered to "carry a hundred shares for him. " This wasthe way one offered a tip in the big world; it was useful in the caseof newspaper men, whose good opinion of a stock was desired, or ofpoliticians and legislators, whose votes might help its fortunes. Whenone expected to get into Society, one must be prepared to strew suchtips about him. 

"Of course, " added Oliver, "what the family would really like me to dois to get the Robbie Wallings to take them up. I suppose I could getround half a million of them if I could manage that. "

To all of which Montague replied, "I see. "

A great light had dawned upon him. So that was the way it was managed!That was why one paid thirty thousand a year for one's apartments, andthirty thousand more for a girl's clothes! No wonder it was better tospend Christmas week at the Eldridge Devons than to labour at one's lawbooks!

"One more question, " Montague went on. "Why are you introducing me tothem?"

"Well, " his brother answered, "it won't hurt you; you'll find itamusing. You see, they'd heard I had a brother; and they asked me tobring you. I couldn't keep you hidden for ever, could I?"

All this was while they were driving up town. The Evanses' place was onRiverside Drive; and when Montague got out of the cab and saw itlooming up in the semi-darkness, he emitted an exclamation of wonder. It was as big as a jail!

"Oh, yes, they've got room enough, " said Oliver, with a laugh. "I putthis deal through for them--it's the old Lamson palace, you know. "

They had the room; and likewise they had all the trappings ofsnobbery--Montague took that fact in at a glance. There wereknee-breeches and scarlet facings and gold braid--marble balconies andfireplaces and fountains--French masters and real Flemish tapestry. Thestaircase of their palace was a winding one, and there was a whitevelvet carpet which had been specially woven for it, and had to bechanged frequently; at the top of it was a white cashmere rug which hada pedigree of six centuries--and so on. 

And then came the family: this tall, raw-boned, gigantic man, withweather-tanned face and straggling grey moustache--this was Jack Evans;and Mrs. Evans, short and pudgy, but with a kindly face, and not toomany diamonds; and the Misses Evans, --stately and slender and perfectlyarrayed. "Why, they're all right!" was the thought that came toMontague. 

They were all right until they opened their mouths. When they spoke, you discovered that Evans was a miner, and that his wife had been cookon a ranch; also that Anne and Mary had harsh voices, and that theynever by any chance said or did anything natural. 

They were escorted into the stately dining-room--Henri II. , with ahistoric mantel taken from the palace of Fontainebleau, and four greatallegorical paintings of Morning, Evening, Noon, and Midnight upon thewalls. There were no other guests--the table, set for six, seemed likea toy in the vast apartment. And in a sudden flash--with a start ofalmost terror--Montague realized what it must mean not to be inSociety. To have all this splendour, and nobody to share it! To haveHenri II. Dining-rooms and Louis XVI. Parlours and Louis XIV. Libraries--and see them all empty! To have no one to drive with or talkwith, no one to visit or play cards with--to go to the theatre and theopera and have no one to speak to! Worse than that, to be stared at andsmiled at! To live in this huge palace, and know that all the horde ofservants, underneath their cringing deference, were sneering at you! Toface that--to live in the presence of it day after day! And then, outside of your home, the ever widening circles of ridicule andcontempt--Society, with all its hangers-on and parasites, its imitatorsand admirers!

And some one had defied all that--some one had taken up the sword andgone forth to beat down that opposition! Montague looked at this littlefamily of four, and wondered which of them was the driving force inthis most desperate emprise!

He arrived at it by a process of elimination. It could not be Evanshimself. One saw that the old man was quite hopeless socially; nothingcould change his big hairy hands or his lean scrawny neck, or hisirresistible impulse to slide down in his chair and cross his long legsin front of him. The face and the talk of Jack Evans broughtirresistibly to mind the mountain trail and the prospector's pack-mule, the smoke of camp-fires and the odour of bacon and beans. Seventeenlong years the man had tramped in deserts and mountain wildernesses, and Nature had graven her impress deep into his body and soul. 

He was very shy at this dinner; but Montague came to know him well inthe course of time. And after he had come to realize that Montague wasnot one of the grafters, he opened up his heart. Evans had held on tohis mine when he had found it, and he had downed the rivals who hadtried to take it away from him, and he had bought the railroads who hadtried to crush him--and now he had come to Wall Street to fight the menwho had tried to ruin his railroads. But through it all, he had keptthe heart of a woman, and the sight of real distress was unbearable tohim. He was the sort of man to keep a roll of ten-thousand-dollar billsin his pistol pocket, and to give one away if he thought he could do itwithout offence. And, on the other hand, men told how once when he hadseen a porter insult a woman passenger on his line, he jumped up andpulled the bell-cord, and had the man put out on the roadside atmidnight, thirty miles from the nearest town!

No, it was the women folks, he said to Montague, with his grim laugh. It didn't trouble him at all to be called a "noovoo rich"; and when hefelt like dancing a shakedown, he could take a run out to God'scountry. But the women folks had got the bee in their bonnet. The oldman added sadly that one of the disadvantages of striking it rich wasthat it left the women folks with nothing to do. 

Nor was it Mrs. Evans, either. "Sarey, " as she was called by the headof the house, sat next to Montague at dinner; and he discovered thatwith the very least encouragement, the good lady was willing to becomehomelike and comfortable. Montague gave the occasion, because he was astranger, and volunteered the opinion that New York was a shamelesslyextravagant place, and hard to get along in; and Mrs. Evans took up thesubject and revealed herself as a good-natured and kindly personage, who had wistful yearnings for mush and molasses, and flap-jacks, andbread fried in bacon-grease, and similar sensible things, while herchef was compelling her to eat _paté de foie gras_ in aspic, andmilk-fed guinea-chicks, and _biscuits glacées Tortoni_. Of course shedid not say that at dinner, --she made a game effort to play herpart, --with the result of at least one diverting experience forMontague. 

Mrs. Evans was telling him what a dreadful place she considered thecity for young men; and how she feared to bring her boy here. "The menhere have no morals at all, " said she, and added earnestly, "I've cometo the conclusion that Eastern men are naturally amphibious!"

Then, as Montague knitted his brows and looked perplexed, she added, "Don't you think so?" And he replied, with as little delay as possible, that he had never really thought of it before. 

It was not until a couple of hours later that the light dawned uponhim, in the course of a conversation with Miss Anne. "We met LadyStonebridge at luncheon to-day, " said that young person. "Do you knowher?"

"No, " said Montague, who had never heard of her. 

"I think those aristocratic English women use the most abominableslang, " continued Anne. "Have you noticed it?"

"Yes, I have, " he said. 

"And so utterly cynical! Do you know, Lady Stonebridge quite shockedmother--she told her she didn't believe in marriage at all, and thatshe thought all men were naturally polygamous!"

Later on, Montague came to know "Mrs. Sarey"; and one afternoon, sitting in her Petit Trianon drawing-room, he asked her abruptly, "Whyin the world do you want to get into Society?" And the poor lady caughther breath, and tried to be indignant; and then, seeing that he was inearnest, and that she was cornered, broke down and confessed. "It isn'tme, " she said, "it's the gals. " (For along with the surrender went areversion to natural speech. ) "It's Mary, and more particularly Anne. "

They talked it over confidentially--which was a great relief to Mrs. Sarey's soul, for she was cruelly lonely. So far as she was concerned, it was not because she wanted Society, but because Society didn't wanther. She flashed up in sudden anger, and clenched her fists, declaringthat Jack Evans was as good a man as walked the streets of NewYork--and they would acknowledge it before he got through with them, too! After that she intended to settle down at home and be comfortable, and mend her husband's socks. 

She went on to tell him what a hard road was the path of glory. Therewere hundreds of people ready to know them--but oh, such a riffraff!They might fill up their home with the hangers-on and the yellow, butno, they could wait. They had learned a lot since they set out. Onevery aristocratic lady had invited them to dinner, and their hopes hadbeen high--but alas, while they were sitting by the fireplace, some oneadmired a thirty-thousand-dollar emerald ring which Mrs. Evans had onher finger, and she had taken it off and passed it about among thecompany, and somewhere it had vanished completely! And another personhad invited Mary to a bridge-party, and though she had played hardly atall, her hostess had quietly informed her that she had lost a thousanddollars. And the great Lady Stonebridge had actually sent for her andtold her that she could introduce her in some of the very best circles, if only she was willing to lose always! Mrs. Evans had possessed a veryhomely Irish name before she was married; and Lady Stonebridge had gotfive thousand dollars from her to use some great influence shepossessed in the Royal College of Heralds, and prove that she wasdescended directly from the noble old family of Magennis, who had beenthe lords of Iveagh, way back in the fourteenth century. And now Oliverhad told them that this imposing charter would not help them in theleast!

In the process of elimination, there were the Misses Evans left. Montague's friends made many jests when they heard that he had metthem--asking him if he meant to settle down. Major Venable went so faras to assure him that there was not the least doubt that either of thegirls would take him in a second. Montague laughed, and answered thatMary was not so bad--she had a sweet face and was good-natured; butalso, she was two years younger than Anne; and he could not get overthe thought that two more years might make another Anne of her. 

For it was Anne who was the driving force of the family! Anne who hadplanned the great campaign, and selected the Lamson palace, and priedthe family loose from the primeval rocks of Nevada! She was cold as aniceberg, tireless, pitiless to others as to herself; for seventeenyears her father had wandered and dug among the mountains; and forseventeen years, if need be, she would dig beneath the walls of thefortress of Society!

After Montague had had his heart to heart talk with the mother, MissAnne Evans became very haughty toward him; whereby he knew that the oldlady had told about it, and that the daughter resented his presumption. But to Oliver she laid bare her soul, and Oliver would come and tellhis brother about it: how she plotted and planned and studied, andbrought new schemes to him every week. She had some of the real peoplebought over to secret sympathy with her; if there was some especialfavour which she asked for, she would set to work with the good-naturedold man, and the person would have some important money service donehim. She had the people of Society all marked--she was learning alltheir weaknesses, and the underground passages of their lives, andworking patiently to find the key to her problem--some one family whichwas socially impregnable, but whose finances were in such a shape thatthey would receive the proposition to take up the Evanses, anddefinitely put them in. Montague used to look back upon all this withwonder and amusement--from those days in the not far distant future, when the papers had cable descriptions of the gowns of the Duchess ofArden, nee Evans, who was the bright particular star of the Londonsocial season!

CHAPTER XIV

Montague had written a reluctant letter to Major Thorne, telling himthat he had been unable to interest anyone in his proposition, and thathe was not in position to undertake it himself. Then, according to hisbrother's injunction, he left his money in the bank, and waited. Therewould be "something doing" soon, said Oliver. 

And as they drove home from the Evanses', Oliver served notice upon himthat this event might be expected any day. He was very mysterious aboutit, and would answer none of his brother's questions--except to saythat it had nothing to do with the people they had just visited. 

"I suppose, " Montague remarked, "you have not failed to realize thatEvans might play you false. "

And the other laughed, echoing the words, "Might do it!" Then he wenton to tell the tale of the great railroad builder of the West, whosedaughter had been married, with elaborate festivities; and some of theyoung men present, thinking to find him in a sentimental mood, hadasked him for his views about the market. He advised them to buy thestock of his road; and they formed a pool and bought, and as fast asthey bought, he sold--until the little venture cost the boys a total ofseven million and a half!

"No, no, " Oliver added. "I have never put up a dollar for anything ofEvans's, and I never shall. --They are simply a side issue, anyway, " headded carelessly. 

A couple of mornings later, while Montague was at breakfast, hisbrother called him up and said that he was coming round, and would godown town with him. Montague knew at once that that meant somethingserious, for he had never before known his brother to be awake so early. 

They took a cab; and then Oliver explained. The moment had arrived--thetime to take the plunge, and come up with a fortune. He could not tellmuch about it, for it was a matter upon which he stood pledged toabsolute secrecy. There were but four people in the country who knewabout it. It was the chance of a lifetime--and in four or five hours itwould be gone. Three times before it had come to Oliver, and each timehe had multiplied his capital several times; that he had not mademillions was simply because he did not have enough money. His brothermust take his word for this and simply put himself into his hands. 

"What is it you want me to do?" asked Montague, gravely. 

"I want you to take every dollar you have, or that you can lay yourhands on this morning, and turn it over to me to buy stocks with. "

"To buy on margin, you mean?"

"Of course I mean that, " said Oliver. Then, as he saw his brotherfrown, he added, "Understand me, I have absolutely certain informationas to how a certain stock will behave to-day. "

"The best judges of a stock often make mistakes in such matters, " saidMontague. 

"It is not a question of any person's judgment, " was the reply. "It isa question of knowledge. The stock is to be MADE to behave so. "

"But how can you know that the person who intends to make it behave maynot be lying to you?"

"My information does not come from that person, but from a person whohas no such interest--who, on the contrary, is in on the deal with me, and gains only as I gain. "

"Then, in other words, " said Montague, "your information is stolen?"

"Everything in Wall Street is stolen, " was Oliver's concise reply. 

There was a long silence, while the cab rolled swiftly on its way. "Well?" Oliver asked at last. 

"I can imagine, " said Montague, "how a man might intend to move acertain stock, and think that he had the power, and yet find that hewas mistaken. There are so many forces, so many chances to beconsidered--it seems to me you must be taking a risk. "

Oliver laughed. "You talk like a child, " was his reply. "Suppose that Iwere in absolute control of a corporation, and that I chose to run itfor purposes of market manipulation, don't you think I might comepretty near knowing what its stock was going to do?"

"Yes, " said Montague, slowly, "if such a thing as that wereconceivable. "

"If it were conceivable!" laughed his brother. "And now suppose that Ihad a confidential man--a secretary, we'll say--and I paid him twentythousand a year, and he saw chances to make a hundred thousand in anhour--don't you think he might conceivably try it?"

"Yes, " said Montague, "he might. But where do you come in?"

"Well, if the man were going to do anything worth while, he'd needcapital, would he not? And he'd hardly dare to look for any money inthe Street, where a thousand eyes would be watching him. What morenatural than to look out for some person who is in Society and has theear of private parties with plenty of cash?"

And Montague sat in deep thought. "I see, " he said slowly; "I see!"Then, fixing his eyes upon Oliver, he exclaimed, earnestly, "One thingmore!"

"Don't ask me any more, " protested the other. "I told you I waspledged--"

"You must tell me this, " said Montague. "Does Bobbie Walling know aboutit?"

"He does not, " was the reply. But Montague had known his brother longand intimately, and he could read things in his eyes. He knew that thatwas a lie. He had solved the mystery at last!

Montague knew that he had come to a parting of the ways. He did notlike this kind of thing--he had not come to New York to be astock-gambler. But what a difficult thing it would be to say so; andhow unfair it was to be confronted with such an issue, and compelled todecide in a few minutes in a cab!

He had put himself in his brother's hands, and now he was underobligations to him, which he could not pay off. Oliver had paid all hisexpenses; he was doing everything for him. He had made all hisdifficulties his own, and all in frankness and perfect trust--upon theassumption that his brother would play the game with him. And now, atthe critical moment, he was to face about, and say; "I do not like thegame. I do not approve of your life!" Such a painful thing it is tohave a higher moral code than one's friends!

If he refused, he saw that he would have to face a complete break; hecould not go on living in the world to which he had been introduced. Fifty thousand had seemed an enormous fee, yet even a week or two hadsufficed for it to come to seem inadequate. He would have to have manysuch fees, if they were to go on living at their present rate; and ifAlice were to have a social career, and entertain her friends. And toask Alice to give up now, and retire, would be even harder than to facehis brother here in the cab. 

Then came the temptation. Life was a battle, and this was the way itwas being fought. If he rejected the opportunity, others would seizeit; in fact, by refusing, he would be handing it to them. This greatman, whoever he might be, who was manipulating stocks for his ownconvenience--could anyone in his senses reject a chance to wrench fromhim some part of his spoils? Montague saw the impulse of refusal dyingaway within him. 

"Well?" asked his brother, finally. 

"Oliver, " said the other, "don't you think that I ought to know moreabout it, so that I can judge?"

"You could not judge, even if I told you all, " said Oliver. "It wouldtake you a long time to become familiar with the circumstances, as Iam. You must take my word; I know it is certain and safe. "

Then suddenly he unbuttoned his coat, and took out some papers, andhanded his brother a telegram. It was dated Chicago, and read, "Guestis expected immediately. --HENRY. " "That means, 'Buy Transcontinentalthis morning, '" said Oliver. 

"I see, " said the other. "Then the man is in Chicago?"

"No, " was the reply. "That is his wife. He wires to her. "

"--How much money have you?" asked Oliver, after a pause. 

"I've most of the fifty thousand, " the other answered, "and aboutthirty thousand we brought with us. "

"How much can you put your hands on?"

"Why, I could get all of it; but part of the money is mother's, and Iwould not touch that. "

The younger man was about to remonstrate, but Montague stopped him, "Iwill put up the fifty thousand I have earned, " he said. "I dare notrisk any more. "

Oliver shrugged his shoulders. "As you please, " he said. "You may neverhave another such chance in your life. "

He dropped the subject, or at least he probably tried to. Within a fewminutes, however, he was back at it again, with the result that by thetime they reached the banking-district, Montague had agreed to drawsixty thousand. 

They stopped at his bank. "It isn't open yet, --" said Oliver, "but thepaying teller will oblige you. Tell him you want it before the Exchangeopens. "

Montague went in and got his money, in six new, crisp, ten-thousand-dollar bills. He buttoned them up in his inmost pocket, wondering a little, incidentally, at the magnificence of the place, andat the swift routine manner in which the clerk took in and paid outsuch sums as this. Then they drove to Oliver's bank, and he drew ahundred and twenty thousand; and then he paid off the cab, and theystrolled down Broadway into Wall Street. It lacked a quarter of an hourof the time of the opening of the Exchange; and a stream ofprosperous-looking men were pouring in from all the cars and ferries totheir offices. 

"Where are your brokers?" Montague inquired. 

"I don't have any brokers--at least not for a matter such as this, "said Oliver. And he stopped in front of one of the big buildings. "Inthere, " he said, "are the offices of Hammond and Streeter--second floorto your left. Go there and ask for a member of the firm, and introduceyourself under an assumed name--"

"What!" gasped Montague. 

"Of course, man--you would not dream of giving your own name! Whatdifference will that make?"

"I never thought of doing such a thing, " said the other. 

"Well, think of it now. "

But Montague shook his head. "I would not do that, " he said. 

Oliver shrugged his shoulders. "All right, " he said; "tell him youdon't care to give your name. They're a little shady--they'll take yourmoney. "

"Suppose they won't?" asked the other. 

"Then wait outside for me, and I'll take you somewhere else. "

"What shall I buy?"

"Ten thousand shares of Transcontinental Common at the opening price;and tell them to buy on the scale up, and to raise the stop; also totake your orders to sell over the 'phone. Then wait there until I comefor you. "

Montague set his teeth together and obeyed orders. Inside the doormarked Hammond and Streeter a pleasant-faced young man advanced to meethim, and led him to a grey-haired and affable gentleman, Mr. Streeter. And Montague introduced himself as a stranger in town, from the South, and wishing to buy some stock. Mr. Streeter led him into an inneroffice and seated himself at a desk and drew some papers in front ofhim. "Your name, please?" he asked. 

"I don't care to give my name, " replied the other. And Mr. Streeter putdown his pen. 

"Not give your name?" he said. 

"No, " said Montague quietly. 

"Why?"--said Mr. Streeter--"I don't understand--"

"I am a stranger in town, " said Montague, "and not accustomed todealing in stocks. I should prefer to remain unknown. "

The man eyed him sharply. "Where do you come from?" he asked. 

"From Mississippi, " was the reply. 

"And have you a residence in New York?"

"At a hotel, " said Montague. 

"You have to give some name, " said the other. 

"Any will do, " said Montague. "John Smith, if you like. "

"We never do anything like this, " said the broker. 

"We require that our customers be introduced. There are rules of theExchange--there are rules--"

"I am sorry, " said Montague; "this would be a cash transaction. "

"How many shares do you want to buy?"

"Ten thousand, " was the reply. 

Mr. Streeter became more serious. "That is a large order, " he said. 

Montague said nothing. 

"What do you wish to buy?" was the next question. 

"Transcontinental Common, " he replied. 

"Well, " said the other, after another pause-, -"we will try toaccommodate you. But you will have to consider it--er--"

"Strictly confidential, " said Montague. 

So Mr. Streeter made out the papers, and Montague, looking them over, discovered that they called for one hundred thousand dollars. 

"That is a mistake, " he said. "I have only sixty thousand. "

"Oh, " said the other, "we shall certainly have to charge you a ten percent, margin. "

Montague was not prepared for this contingency; but he did some mentalarithmetic. "What is the present price of the stock?" he asked. 

"Fifty-nine and five-eighths, " was the reply. 

"Then sixty thousand dollars is more than ten per cent, of the marketprice, " said Montague. 

"Yes, " said Mr. Streeter. "But in dealing with a stranger we shallcertainly have to put a 'stop loss' order at four points above, andthat would leave you only two points of safety--surely not enough. "

"I see, " said Montague--and he had a sudden appalling realization ofthe wild game which his brother had planned for him. 

"Whereas, " Mr. Streeter continued, persuasively, "if you put up ten percent. , you will have six points. "

"Very well, " said the other promptly. "Then please buy me six thousandshares. "

So they closed the deal, and the papers were signed, and Mr. Streetertook the six new, crisp ten-thousand-dollar bills. 

Then he escorted him to the outer office, remarking pleasantly on theway, "I hope you're well advised. We're inclined to be bearish uponTranscontinental ourselves--the situation looks rather squally. "

These words were not worth the breath it took to say them; but Montaguewas not aware of this, and felt a painful start within. But heanswered, carelessly, that one must take his chance, and sat down inone of the customer's chairs. Hammond and Streeter's was like a littlelecture-hall, with rows of seats and a big blackboard in front, withthe initials of the most important stocks in columns, and yesterday'sclosing prices above, on little green cards. At one side was a ticker, with two attendants awaiting the opening click. 

In the seats were twenty or thirty men, old and young; most of themregular habitues, victims of the fever of the Street. Montague watchedthem, catching snatches of their whispered conversation, with itsintricate and disagreeable slang. He felt intensely humiliated anduncomfortable--for he had got the fever of the Street into his ownveins, and he could not conquer it. There were nasty shivers running upand down his spine, and his hands were cold. 

He stared at the little figures, fascinated; they stood for some vastand tremendous force outside, which could not be controlled or evencomprehended, --some merciless, annihilating force, like the lightningor the tornado. And he had put himself at the mercy of it; it might doits will with him! "Tr. C. 59 5/8" read the little pasteboard; and hehad only six points of safety. If at any time in the day that figureshould be changed to read "53 5/8"--then every dollar of Montague'ssixty thousand would be gone for ever! The great fee that he had workedso hard for and rejoiced so greatly over--that would be all gone, and aslice out of his inheritance besides!

A boy put into his hand a little four-page paper--one of the countlessnews-sheets which different houses and interests distributed free foradvertising or other purposes; and a heading "Transcontinental" caughthis eye, among the paragraphs in the Day's Events. He read: "Thedirectors' meeting of the Transcontinental R. R. Will be held at noon. It is confidently predicted that the quarterly dividend will be passed, as it has been for the last three quarters. There is greatdissatisfaction among the stock-holders. The stock has been decidedlyweak, with no apparent inside support; it fell off three points justbefore closing yesterday, upon the news of further proceedings byWestern state officials, and widely credited rumours of dissensionsamong the directors, with renewed opposition to the control of theHopkins interests. "

Ten o'clock came and went, and the ticker began its long journey. Therewas intense activity in Transcontinental, many thousands of shareschanging hands, and the price swaying back and forth. When Oliver camein, in half an hour, it stood at 59 3/8. 

"That's all right, " said he. "Our time will not come till afternoon. "

"But suppose we are wiped out before afternoon?" said the other. 

"That is impossible, " answered Oliver. "There will be big buying allthe morning. "

They sat for a while, nervous and restless. Then, by way of breakingthe monotony, Oliver suggested that his brother might like to see the"Street. " They went around the corner to Broad Street. Here at the headstood the Sub-treasury building, with all the gold of the governmentinside, and a Gatling gun in the tower. The public did not know it wasthere, but the financial men knew it, and it seemed as if they hadhuddled all their offices and banks and safe-deposit vaults under itsshelter. Here, far underground, were hidden the two hundred millions ofsecurities of the Oil Trust--in a huge six-hundred-ton steel vault, with a door so delicately poised that a finger could swing it on itshinges. And opposite to this was the white Grecian building of theStock Exchange. Down the street were throngs of men within a ropedarena, pushing, shouting, jostling; this was "the curb, " where onecould buy or sell small blocks of stock, and all the wild-cat miningand oil stocks which were not listed by the Exchange. Rain or shine, these men were always here; and in the windows of the neighbouringbuildings stood others shouting quotations to them through megaphones, or signalling in deaf and dumb language. Some of these brokers worecoloured hats, so that they could be distinguished; some had officesfar off, where men sat all day with strong glasses trained upon them. Everywhere was the atmosphere of speculation--the restless, feverisheyes; the quick, nervous gestures; the haggard, care-worn faces. For inthis game every man was pitted against every other man; and the dicewere loaded so that nine out of every ten were doomed in advance toruin and defeat. They procured passes to the visitors' gallery of theExchange. From here one looked down into a room one or two hundred feetsquare, its floor covered with a snowstorm of torn pieces of paper, andits air a babel of shouts and cries. Here were gathered perhaps twothousand men and boys; some were lounging and talking, but most werecrowded about the various trading-posts, pushing, climbing over eachother, leaping up, waving their hands and calling aloud. A "seat" inthis exchange was worth about ninety-five thousand dollars, and so noone of these men was poor; but yet they came, day after day, to playtheir parts in this sordid arena, "seeking in sorrow for each other'sjoy": inventing a thousand petty tricks to outwit and deceive eachother; rejoicing in a thousand petty triumphs; and spending theirlives, like the waves upon the shore, a very symbol of human futility. Now and then a sudden impulse would seize them, and they would becomelike howling demons, surging about one spot, shrieking, gasping, clawing each other's clothing to pieces; and the spectator shuddered, seeing them as the victims of some strange and dreadful enchantment, which bound them to struggle and torment each other until they wereworn out and grey. 

But one felt these things only dimly, when he had put all his fortuneinto Transcontinental Common. For then he had sold his own soul to theenchanter, and the spell was upon him, and he hoped and feared andagonized with the struggling throng. Montague had no need to ask whichwas his "post"; for a mob of a hundred men were packed about it, withlittle whirls and eddies here and there on the outside. "Somethingdoing to-day all right, " said a man in his ear. 

It was interesting to watch; but there was one difficulty--there wereno quotations provided for the spectators. So the sight of thisactivity merely set them on edge with anxiety--something must behappening to their stock! Even Oliver was visibly nervous--after all, in the surest cases, the game was a dangerous one; there might be a bigfailure, or an assassination, or an earthquake! They rushed out andmade for the nearest broker's office, where a glance at the boardshowed them Transcontinental at 60. They drew a long breath, and satdown again to wait. 

That was about half-past eleven. At a quarter to twelve the stock wentup an eighth, and then a quarter, and then another eighth. The twogripped their hands in excitement. Had the time come?

Apparently it had. A minute later the stock leaped to 61, on largebuying. Then it went three-eighths more. A buzz of excitement ranthrough the office, and the old-timers sat up in their seats. The stockwent another quarter. 

Montague heard a man behind him say to his neighbour, "What does itmean?"

"God knows, " was the answer; but Oliver whispered in his brother's ear, "I know what it means. The insiders are buying. "

Somebody was buying, and buying furiously. The ticker seemed to set allother business aside and give its attention to the trading inTranscontinental. It was like a base-ball game, when one side begins topile up runs, and the man in the coacher's box chants exultantly, andthe dullest spectator is stirred--since no man can be indifferent tosuccess. And as the stock went higher and higher, a little wave ofexcitement mounted with it, a murmur running through the room, and athrill passing from person to person. Some watched, wondering if itwould last, and if they had not better take on a little; then anotherpoint would be scored, and they would wish they had done it, andhesitate whether to do it now. But to others, like the Montagues, who"had some, " it was victory, glorious and thrilling; their pulses leapedfaster with every new change of the figures; and between times theyreckoned up their gains, and hung between hope and dread for the newgains which were on the way, but not yet in sight. 

There was little lull, and the boys who tended the board had a chanceto rest. The stock was above 66; at which price, owing to the device of"pyramiding. " Montague was on "velvet, " to use the picturesque phraseof the Street. His earnings amounted to sixty thousand dollars, andeven if the stock were to fall and he were to be sold out, he wouldlose nothing. 

He wished to sell and realize his profits; but his brother gripped himfast by the arm. "No! no!" he said. "It hasn't really come yet!"

Some went out to lunch--to a restaurant where they could have atelephone on their table, so as to keep in touch with events. But theMontagues had no care about eating; they sat picturing the directors insession, and speculating upon a score of various eventualities. Thingsmight yet go wrong, and all their profits would vanish like earlysnow-flakes--and all their capital with them. Oliver shook like a leaf, but he would not stir. "Stay game!" he whispered. 

He took out his watch, and glanced at it. It was after two o'clock. "Itmay go over till to-morrow!" he muttered. --But then suddenly came thestorm. 

The ticker recorded a rise in the price of Transcontinental of a pointand a half, upon a purchase of five thousand shares; and then half apoint for two thousand more. After that it never stopped. It went apoint at a time; it went ten points in about fifteen minutes. And babelbroke loose in the office, and in several thousand other offices in thestreet, and spread to others all over the world. Montague had got up, and was moving here and there, because the tension was unendurable; andat the door of an inner office he heard some one at the telephoneexclaiming, "For the love of God, can't you find out what's thematter?"--A moment later a man rushed in, breathless and wild-eyed, andhis voice rang through the office, "The directors have declared aquarterly dividend of three per cent, and an extra dividend of two!"

And Oliver caught his brother by the arm and started for the door withhim. "Get to your broker's, " he said. "And if the stock has stoppedmoving, sell; and sell in any case before the close. " And then hedashed away to his own headquarters. 

At about half after three o'clock, Oliver came into Hammond andStreeter's, breathless, and with his hair and clothing dishevelled. Hewas half beside himself with exultation; and Montague was scarcely lesswrought up--in fact he felt quite limp after the strain he had beenthrough. 

"What price did you get?" his brother inquired; and he answered, "Anaverage of 78 3/8. " There had been another sharp rise at the end, andhe had sold all his stock without checking the advance. 

"I got five-eighths, " said Oliver. "O ye gods!"

There were some unhappy "shorts" in the office; Mr. Streeter was one ofthem. It was bitterness and gall to them to see the radiant faces ofthe two lucky ones; but the two did not even see this. They went out, half dancing, and had a drink or two to steady their nerves. 

They would not actually get their money until the morrow; but Montaguefigured a profit of a trifle under a quarter of a million for himself. Of this about twenty thousand would go to make up the share of hisunknown informant; the balance he considered would be an ample rewardfor his six hours' work that day. 

His brother had won more than twice as much. But as they drove up home, talking over it in awe-stricken whispers, and pledging themselves toabsolute secrecy, Oliver suddenly clenched his fist and struck his knee. 

"By God!" he exclaimed. "If I hadn't been a fool and tried to save anextra margin, I could have had a million!"

CHAPTER XV

After such a victory one felt in a mood for Christmas festivities, --formusic and dancing and all beautiful and happy things. 

Such a thing, for instance, as Mrs. Winnie, when she came to meet him;clad in her best automobile coat, a thing of purest snowy ermine, sotruly gorgeous that wherever she went, people turned and stared andcaught their breath. Mrs. Winnie was a picture of joyful health, with aglow in her rich complexion, and a sparkle in her black eyes. 

She sat in her big touring-car--in which one could afford to wearermine. It was a little private self-moving hotel; in the limousinewere seats for six persons, with revolving easy chairs, and berths forsleeping, and a writing-desk and a wash-stand, and a beautiful electricchandelier to light it at night. Its trimmings were of South Americanmahogany, and its upholstering of Spanish and Morocco leathers; it hada telephone with which one spoke to the driver; an ice-box and a lunchhamper--in fact, one might have spent an hour discovering new gimcracksin this magic automobile. It had been made especially for Mrs. Winnie acouple of years ago, and the newspapers said it had cost thirtythousand dollars; it had then been quite a novelty, but now "everybody"was getting them. In this car one might sit at ease, and laugh andchat, and travel at the rate of an express train; and with never a jaror a quiver, nor the faintest sound of any sort. 

The streets of the city sped by them as if by enchantment. They wentthrough the park, and out Riverside Drive, and up the river-road whichruns out of Broadway all the way to Albany. It was a macadamizedavenue, lined with beautiful and stately homes. As one went fartheryet, he came to the great country estates-a whole district of hundredsof square miles given up to them. There were forests and lakes andstreams; there were gardens and greenhouses filled with rare plants andflowers, and parks with deer browsing, and peacocks and lyre-birdsstrutting about. The road wound in and out among hills, the surfaces ofwhich would be one unbroken lawn; and upon the highest points stoodpalaces of every conceivable style and shape. 

One might find these great domains anywhere around the city, at adistance of from thirty to sixty miles; there were two or three hundredof them, and incredible were the sums of money which had been spentupon their decoration. One saw an artificial lake of ten thousandacres, made upon land which had cost several hundred dollars an acre;one saw gardens with ten thousand rose-bushes, and a quarter of amillion dollars' worth of lilies from Japan; there was one estate inwhich had been planted a million dollars' worth of rare trees, importedfrom all over the world. Some rich men, who had nothing else to amusethem, would make their estates over and over again, changing the viewabout their homes as one changes the scenery in a play. Over in NewJersey the Hegans were building a castle upon a mountain-top, and hadbuilt a special railroad simply to carry the materials. Here, also, wasthe estate of the tobacco king, upon which three million dollars hadbeen spent before the plans of the mansion had even been drawn; therewere artificial lakes and streams, and fantastic bridges and statuary, and scores of little model plantations and estates, according to thewhim of the owner. And here in the Pocantico Hills was the estate ofthe oil king, about four square miles, with thirty miles of modeldriveways; many car-loads of rare plants had been imported for itsgardens, and it took six hundred men to keep it in order. There was agolf course, a little miniature Alps, upon which the richest man in theworld pursued his lost health, with armed guards and detectivespatrolling the place all day, and a tower with a search-light, wherebyat night he could flood the grounds with light by pressing a button. 

In one of these places lived the heir of the great house of Devon. Hiscousin dwelt in Europe, saying that America was not a fit place for agentleman to live in. Each of them owned a hundred million dollars'worth of New York real estate, and drew their tribute of rents from thetoil of the swarming millions of the city. And always, according to thepolicy of the family, they bought new real estate. They were directorsof the great railroads tributary to the city, and in touch with thepolitical machines, and in every other way in position to know what wasunder way: if a new subway were built to set the swarming millionsfree, the millions would find the land all taken up, andapartment-houses newly built for them--and the Devons were the owners. They had a score of the city's greatest hotels--and also slumtenements, and brothels and dives in the Tenderloin. They did not evenhave to know what they owned; they did not have to know anything, or doanything--they lived in their palaces, at home or abroad, and in theiroffices in the city the great rent-gathering machine ground on. 

Eldridge Devon's occupation was playing with his country-place and hisautomobiles. He had recently sold all his horses, and turned hisstables into a garage equipped with a score or so of cars; he wasalways getting a new one, and discussing its merits. As to HudsonCliff, the estate, he had conceived the brilliant idea of establishinga gentleman's country-place which should be self-supporting--that is tosay, which should furnish the luxuries and necessities of its owner'stable for no more than it would have cost to buy them. Considering theprices usually paid, this was no astonishing feat, but Devon took achild's delight in it; he showed Montague his greenhouses, filled withrare flowers and fruits, and his model dairy, with marble stables andnickel plumbing, and attendants in white uniforms and rubber gloves. Hewas a short and very stout gentleman with red cheeks, and hisconversation was not brilliant. 

To Hudson Cliff came many of Montague's earlier acquaintances, andothers whom he had not met before. They amused themselves in all theways with which-he had become familiar at house-parties; likewise onChristmas Eve there were festivities for the children, and on Christmasnight a costume ball, very beautiful and stately. Many came from NewYork to attend this, and others from the neighbourhood; and inreturning calls, Montague saw others of these hill-top mansions. 

Also, and most important of all, they played bridge--as they had playedat every function which he had attended so far. Here Mrs. Winnie, whohad rather taken him up, and threatened to supplant Oliver as hissocial guide and chaperon, insisted that no more excuses would beaccepted; and so for two mornings he sat with her in one of thesun-parlours, and diligently put his mind upon the game. As he provedan apt pupil, he was then advised that he might take a trial plunge. 

And so Montague came into touch with a new social phenomenon; perhapson the whole the most significant and soul-disturbing phenomenon whichSociety had exhibited to him. He had just had the experience of gettinga great deal of money without earning it, and was fresh from thedisagreeable memories of it--the trembling and suspense, the burninglustful greed, the terrible nerve-devouring excitement. He had hopedthat he would not soon have to go through such an experience again-andhere was the prospect of an endless dalliance with it!

For that was the meaning of bridge; it was a penalty which people werepaying for getting their money without earning it. The disease got intotheir blood, and they could no longer live without the excitement ofgain and the hope of gain. So after their labours were over, when theywere supposed to be resting and enjoying themselves, they would gettogether and torment themselves with an imitation struggle, mimickingthe grim and dreadful gamble of business. Down in the Street, Oliverhad pointed out to his brother a celebrated "plunger, " who hadsometimes won six or eight millions in a single day; and that man wouldplay at stocks all morning, and "play the ponies" in the afternoon, andthen spend the evening in a millionaires' gambling-house. And so it waswith the bridge fiends. 

It was a social plague; it had run through all Society, high and low. It had destroyed conversation and all good-fellowship--it would end bydestroying even common decency, and turning the best people into vulgargamblers. --Thus spoke Mrs. Billy Alden, who was one of the guests; andMontague thought that Mrs. Billy ought to know, for she herself wasplaying all the time. 

Mrs. Billy did not like Mrs. Winnie Duval; and the beginning of theconversation was her inquiry why he let that woman corrupt him. Thenthe good lady went on to tell him what bridge had come to be; howpeople played it on the trains all the way from New York to SanFrancisco; how they had tables in their autos, and played while theywere touring over the world. "Once, " said she, "I took a party to seethe America's Cup races off Sandy Hook; and when we got back to thepier, some one called, 'Who won?' And the answer was, 'Mrs. Billy'sahead, but we're going on this evening. ' I took a party of friendsthrough the Mediterranean and up the Nile, and we passed Venice andCairo and the Pyramids and the Suez Canal, and they never once lookedup--they were playing bridge. And you think I'm joking, but I mean justliterally what I say. I know a man who was travelling from New York toPhiladelphia, and got into a game with some strangers, and rode all theway to Palm Beach to finish it!"

Montague heard later of a well-known Society leader who was totallyincapacitated that winter, from too much bridge at Newport; and she waspassing the winter at Hot Springs and Palm Beach--and playing bridgethere. They played it even in sanitariums, to which they had beendriven by nervous breakdown. It was an occupation so exhausting to thephysique of women that physicians came to know the symptoms of it, andbefore they diagnosed a case, they would ask, "Do you play bridge?" Ithad destroyed the last remnants of the Sabbath--it was a universalcustom to have card-parties on that day. 

It was a very expensive game, as they played it in Society; one mighteasily win or lose several thousand dollars in an evening, and therewere many who could not afford this. If one did not play, he would bedropped from the lists of those invited; and when one entered a game, etiquette required him to stay in until it was finished. So one heardof young girls who had pawned their family plate, or who had sold theirhonour, to pay their bills at the game; and all Society knew of oneyouth who had robbed his hostess of her jewels and pawned them, andthen taken her the tickets--telling her that her guests had robbed him. There were women received in the best Society, who lived asadventuresses pure and simple, upon their skill at the game; hostesseswould invite rich guests and fleece them. Montague never forgot thesense of amazement and dismay with which he listened while first Mrs. Winnie and then his brother warned him that he must avoid playing witha certain aristocratic dame whom he met in this most aristocratichousehold--because she was such a notorious cheater!

"My dear fellow, " laughed his brother, when he protested, "we have aphrase 'to cheat at cards like a woman. '" And then Oliver went on totell him of his own first experience at cards in Society, when he hadplayed poker with several charming young débutantes; they would calltheir hands and take the money without showing their cards, and he hadbeen too gallant to ask to see them. But later he learned that this wasa regular practice, and so he never played poker with women. And Oliverpointed out one of these girls to his brother--sitting, as beautiful asa picture and as cold as marble, with a half-smoked cigarette on theedge of the table, and whisky and soda and glasses of cracked icebeside her. Later on, as he chanced to be reading a newspaper, hisbrother leaned over his shoulder and pointed out another of thesymptoms of the craze--an advertisement headed, "Your luck willchange. " It gave notice that at Rosenstein's Parlours, just off FifthAvenue, one might borrow money upon expensive gowns and furs!

All during the ten days of this house-party, Mrs. Winnie devotedherself to seeing that Montague had a good time; Mrs. Winnie sat besidehim at table--he found that somehow a convention had been establishedwhich assigned him to Mrs. Winnie as a matter of course. Nobody saidanything to him about it, but knowing how relentlessly the affairs ofother people were probed and analyzed, he began to feel exceedinglyuncomfortable. 

There came a time when he felt quite smothered by Mrs. Winnie; andimmediately after lunch one day he broke away and went for a long walkby himself. This was the occasion of his meeting with an adventure. 

An inch or two of snow had fallen, and lay gleaming in the sunlight. The air was keen, and he drank deep draughts of it, and went stridingaway over the hills for an hour or so. There was a gale blowing, and ashe came over the summits it would strike him, and he would see theriver white with foam. And then down in the valleys again all would bestill. 

Here, in a thickly wooded place, Montague's attention was arrestedsuddenly by a peculiar sound, a heavy thud, which seemed to shake theearth. It suggested a distant explosion, and he stopped for a momentand then went on, gazing ahead. He passed a turn, and then he saw agreat tree which had fallen directly across the road. 

He went on, thinking that this was what he had heard. But as he camenearer, he saw his mistake. Beyond the tree lay something else, and hebegan to run toward it. It was two wheels of an automobile, sticking upinto the air. 

He sprang upon the tree-trunk, and in one glance he saw the wholestory. A big touring-car had swept round the sharp turn, and swerved toavoid the unexpected obstruction, and so turned a somersault into theditch. 

Montague gave a thrill of horror, for there was the form of a manpinned beneath the body of the car. He sprang toward it, but a secondglance made him stop--he saw that blood had gushed from the man's mouthand soaked the snow all about. His chest was visibly crushed flat, andhis eyes were dreadful, half-started from their sockets. 

For a moment Montague stood staring, as if turned to stone. Then fromthe other side of the car came a moan, and he ran toward the sound. Asecond man lay in the ditch, moving feebly. Montague sprang to help him. 

The man wore a heavy bearskin coat. Montague lifted him, and saw thathe was a very elderly person, with a cut across his forehead, and aface as white as chalk. The other helped him to a position with hisback against the bank, and he opened his eyes and groaned. 

Montague knelt beside him, watching his breathing. He had a sense ofutter helplessness--there was nothing he could think of to do, save tounbutton the man's coat and keep wiping the blood from his face. 

"Some whisky, " the stranger moaned. Montague answered that he had none;but the other replied that there was some in the car. 

The slope of the bank was such that Montague could crawl under, andfind the compartment with the bottle in it. The old man drank some, anda little colour came back to his face. As the other watched him, itcame to him that this face was familiar; but he could not place it. 

"How many were there with you?" Montague asked; and the man answered, "Only one. "

Montague went over and made certain that the other man--who wasobviously the chauffeur--was dead. Then he hurried down the road, anddragged some brush out into the middle of it, where it could be seenfrom a distance by any other automobile that came along; after which hewent back to the stranger, and bound his handkerchief about hisforehead to stop the bleeding from the cut. 

The old man's lips were tightly set, as if he were suffering greatpain. "I'm done for!" he moaned, again and again. 

"Where are you hurt?" Montague asked. 

"I don't know, " he gasped. "But it's finished me! I know it--it's thelast straw. "

Then he closed his eyes and lay back. "Can't you get a doctor?" heasked. 

"There are no houses very near, " said Montague. "But I can run--"

"No, no!" the other interrupted, anxiously. "Don't leave me! Some onewill come. --Oh, that fool of a chauffeur--why couldn't he go slow whenI told him? That's always the way with them--they're always trying toshow off. "

"The man is dead, " said Montague, quietly. 

The other started upon his elbow. "Dead!" he gasped. 

"Yes, " said Montague. "He's under the car. "

The old man's eyes had started wild with fright; and he caught Montagueby the arm. "Dead!" he said. "O my God--and it might have been me!"

There was a moment's pause. The stranger caught his breath, andwhispered again: "I'm done for! I can't stand it! it's too much!"

Montague had noticed when he lifted the man that he was very frail andslight of build. Now he could feel that the hand that held his arm wastrembling violently. It occurred to him that perhaps the man was notreally hurt, but that his nerves had been upset by the shock. 

And he felt certain of this a moment later, when the stranger suddenlyleaned forward, clutching him with redoubled intensity, and staring athim with wide, horror-stricken eyes. 

"Do you know what it means to be afraid of death?" he panted. "Do youknow what it means to be afraid of death?"

Then, without waiting for a reply, he rushed on--"No, no! You can't!you can't! I don't believe any man knows it as I do! Think of it--forten years I've never known a minute when I wasn't afraid of death! Itfollows me around--it won't let me be! It leaps out at me in places, like this! And when I escape it, I can hear it laughing at me--for itknows I can't get away!"

The old man caught his breath with a choking sob. He was clinging toMontague like a frightened child, and staring with a wild, hunted lookupon his face. Montague sat transfixed. 

"Yes, " the other rushed on, "that's the truth, as God hears me! Andit's the first time I've ever spoken it in my life! I have to hideit--because men would laugh at me--they pretend they're not afraid! ButI lie awake all night, and it's like a fiend that sits by my bedside! Ilie and listen to my own heart--I feel it beating, and I think how weakit is, and what thin walls it has, and what a wretched, helpless thingit is to have your life depend on that!--You don't know what that is, Isuppose. "

Montague shook his head. 

"You're young, you see, " said the other. "You have health--everybodyhas health, except me! And everybody hates me--I haven't got a friendin the world!"

Montague was quite taken aback by the suddenness of this outburst. Hetried to stop it, for he felt almost indecent in listening--it was notfair to take a man off his guard like this. But the stranger could notbe stopped--he was completely unstrung, and his voice grew louder andlouder. 

"It's every word of it true, " he exclaimed wildly. "And I can't standit any more. I can't stand anything any more. I was young and strongonce--I could take care of myself; and I said: I'll make money, I'll bemaster of other men! But I was a fool--I forgot my health. And now allthe money on earth can't do me any good! I'd give ten million dollarsto-day for a body like any other man's--and this--this is what I have!"

He struck his hands against his bosom. "Look at it!" he cried, hysterically. "This is what I've got to live in! It won't digest anyfood, and I can't keep it warm--there's nothing right with it! Howwould you like to lie awake at night and say to yourself that yourteeth were decaying and you couldn't help it--your hair was fallingout, and nobody could stop it? You're old and worn out--falling topieces; and everybody hates you--everybody's waiting for you to die, sothat they can get you out of the way. The doctors come, and they're allhumbugs! They shake their heads and use long words--they know theycan't do you any good, but they want their big fees! And all they do isto frighten you worse, and make you sicker than ever!"

There was nothing that Montague could do save to sit and listen to thisoutburst of wretchedness. His attempts to soothe the old man only hadthe effect of exciting him more. 

"Why does it all have to fall on me?" he moaned. "I want to be likeother people--I want to live! And instead, I'm like a man with a packof hungry wolves prowling round him--that's what it's like! It's likeNature--hungry and cruel and savage! You think you know what life is;it seems so beautiful and gentle and pleasant--that's when you're ontop! But now I'm down, and I KNOW what it is--it's a thing like anightmare, that reaches out for you to clutch you and crush you! Andyou can't get away from it--you're helpless as a rat in acorner--you're damned--you're damned!" The miserable man's voice brokein a cry of despair, and he sank down in a heap in front of Montague, shaking and sobbing. The other was trembling slightly, and strickenwith awe. 

There was a long silence, and then the stranger lifted his tear-stainedface, and Montague helped to support him. "Have a little more of thewhisky, " said he. 

"No, " the other answered feebly, "I'd better not. "

"--My doctors won't let me have whisky, " he added, after a while. "That's my liver. I've so many don'ts, you know, that it takes anote-book to keep track of them. And all of them together do me nogood! Think of it--I have to live on graham crackers andmilk--actually, not a thing has passed my lips for two years but grahamcrackers and milk. "

And then suddenly, with a start, it came to Montague where he had seenthis wrinkled old face before. It was Laura Hegan's uncle, whom theMajor had pointed out to him in the dining-room of the Millionaires'Club! Old Henry S. Grimes, who was really only sixty, but lookedeighty; and who owned slum tenements, and evicted more people in amonth than could be crowded into the club-house!

Montague gave no sign, but sat holding the man in his arms. A littletrickle of blood came from under the handkerchief and ran down hischeek; Montague felt him tremble as he touched this with his ringer. 

"Is it much of a cut?" he asked. 

"Not much, " said Montague; "two or three stitches, perhaps. "

"Send for my family physician, " the other added. "If I should faint, oranything, you'll find his name in my card-case. What's that?"

There was the sound of voices down the road. "Hello!"' Montagueshouted; and a moment later two men in automobile costume came runningtoward him. They stopped, staring in dismay at the sight whichconfronted them. 

At Montague's suggestion they made haste to find a log by means ofwhich they lifted the auto sufficiently to drag out the body of thechauffeur. Montague saw that it was quite cold. 

He went back to old Grimes. "Where do you wish to go?" he asked. 

The other hesitated. "I was bound for the Harrisons'--" he said. 

"The Leslie Harrisons?" asked Montague. (They were people he had met atthe Devons'. )

The other noticed his look of recognition. "Do you know them?" he asked. 

"I do, " said Montague. 

"It isn't far, " said the old man. "Perhaps I had best go there. "--Andthen he hesitated for a moment; and catching Montague by the arm, andpulling him toward him, whispered, "Tell me--you-you won't tell--"

Montague, comprehending what he meant, answered, "It will be betweenus. " At the same time he felt a new thrill of revulsion for this mostmiserable old creature. 

They lifted him into the car; and because they delayed long enough tolay a blanket over the body of the chauffeur, he asked peevishly whythey did not start. During the ten or fifteen minutes' trip he satclinging to Montague, shuddering with fright every time they rounded aturn in the road. 

They reached the Harrisons' place; and the footman who opened the doorwas startled out of his studied impassivity by the sight of a bigbundle of bearskin in Montague's arms. "Send for Mrs. Harrison, " saidMontague, and laid the bundle upon a divan in the hall. "Get a doctoras quickly as you can, " he added to a second attendant. 

Mrs. Harrison came. "It's Mr. Grimes, " said Montague; and then he hearda frightened exclamation, and turned and saw Laura Hegan, in a walkingcostume, fresh from the cold outside. 

"What is it?" she cried. And he told her, as quickly as he could, andshe ran to help the old man. Montague stood by, and later carried himupstairs, and waited below until the doctor came. 

It was only when he set out for home again that he found time to thinkabout Laura Hegan, and how beautiful she had looked in her furs. Hewondered if it would always be his fate to meet her under circumstanceswhich left her no time to be aware of his own existence. 

At home he told about his adventure, and found himself quite a hero forthe rest of the day. He was obliged to give interviews to severalnewspaper reporters, and to refuse to let one of them take his picture. Every one at the Devons' seemed to know old Harry Grimes, and Montaguethought to himself that if the comments of this particular group ofpeople were a fair sample, the poor wretch was right in saying that hehad not a friend in the world. 

When he came downstairs the next morning, he found elaborate accountsof the accident in the papers, and learned that Grimes had nothingworse than a scalp wound and a severe shock. Even so, he felt it wasincumbent upon him to pay a visit of inquiry, and rode over shortlybefore lunch. 

Laura Hegan came down to see him, wearing a morning gown of white. Sheconfirmed the good news of the papers, and said that her uncle wasresting quietly. (She did not say that his physician had comepost-haste, with two nurses, and taken up his residence in the house, and that the poor old millionaire was denied even his graham crackersand milk). Instead she said that he had mentioned Montague's kindnessparticularly, and asked her to thank him. Montague was cynical enoughto doubt this. 

It was the first time that he had ever had any occasion to talk withMiss Hegan. He noticed her gentle and caressing voice, with the leasttouch of the South in it; and he was glad to find that it was possiblefor her to talk without breaking the spell of her serene and noblebeauty. Montague stayed as long as he had any right to stay. 

And all the way as he rode home he was thinking about Laura Hegan. Herefor the first time was a woman whom he felt he should like to know; awoman with reserve and dignity, and some ideas in her life. And it wasimpossible for him to know her--because she was rich!

There was no dodging this fact--Montague did not even try. He had metwomen with fortunes already, and he knew how they felt aboutthemselves, and how the rest of the world felt about them. They mightwish in their hearts to be something else besides the keepers of atreasure-chest, but their wishes were futile; the money went with them, and they had to defend it against all comers. Montague recalled oneheiress after another--débutantes, some of them, exquisite and delicateas butterflies--but under the surface as hard as chain-armour. Alltheir lives they had been trained to think of themselves asrepresenting money, and of every one who came near them as adventurersseeking money. In every word they uttered, in every glance and motion, one might read this meaning. And then he thought of Laura Hegan, withthe fortune she would inherit; and he pictured what her life mustbe--the toadies and parasites and flatterers who would lay siege toher--the scheming mammas and the affectionate sisters and cousins whowould plot to gain her confidence! For a man who was poor, and whomeant to keep his self-respect, was there any possible conclusionexcept that she was entirely unknowable to him?

CHAPTER XVI

Montague came back to the city, and dug into his books again; whileAlice gave her spare hours to watching the progress of the new gown inwhich she was to uphold the honour of the family at Mrs. Devon'sopening ball. The great event was due in the next week and Society wasas much excited about it as a family of children before Christmas. Allwhom Montague met were invited and all were going unless they happenedto be in mourning. Their gossip was all of the disappointed ones, andtheir bitterness and heartburning. 

Mrs. Devon's mansion was thrown open early on the eventful evening, butfew would come until midnight. It was the fashion to attend the Operafirst, and previous to that half a dozen people would give big dinners. He was a fortunate person who did not hear from his liver after thisoccasion; for at one o'clock came Mrs. Devon's massive supper, and thenagain at four o'clock another supper. To prepare these repasts a dozenextra chefs had been imported into the Devon establishment for aweek--for it was part of the great lady's pride to permit no outsidecaterer to prepare anything for her guests. 

Montague had never been able to get over his wonder at the socialphenomenon known as Mrs. Devon. He came and took his chances in thejostling throngs; and except that he got into casual conversation withone of the numerous detectives whom he took for a guest he came offfairly well. But all the time that he was being passed about andintroduced and danced with, he was looking about him and wondering. Thegrand staircase and the hall and parlours had been turned into tropicalgardens, with palms and trailing vines, and azaleas and roses, andgreat vases of scarlet poinsettia, with hundreds of lights glowingthrough them. (It was said that this ball had exhausted the flowersupply of the country as far south as Atlanta. ) And then in thereception room one came upon the little old lady, standing' beneath abower of orchids. She was clad in a robe of royal purple trimmed withsilver, and girdled about with an armour-plate of gems. If one mightcredit the papers, the diamonds that were worn at one of these ballswere valued at twenty million dollars. 

The stranger was quite overwhelmed by all the splendour. There was acotillion danced by two hundred gorgeously clad women and theirpartners--a scene so gay that one could only think of it as happeningin a fairy legend, or some old romance of knighthood. Four sets offavours were given during this function, and jewels and objects of artwere showered forth as if from a magician's wand. Mrs. Devon herselfsoon disappeared, but the riot of music and merry-making went on untilnear morning, and during all this time the halls and rooms of the greatmansion were so crowded that one could scarcely move about. 

Then one went home, and realized that all this splendour, and the humaneffort which it represented, had been for nothing but a memory! Norwould he get the full meaning of it if he failed to realize that it wassimply one of thousands--a pattern which every one there would striveto follow in some function of his own. It was a signal bell, which toldthe world that the "season" was open. It loosed the floodgates ofextravagance, and the torrent of dissipation poured forth. From then onthere would be a continuous round of gaieties; one might have threebanquets every single night--for a dinner and two suppers was now thecustom, at entertainments! And filling the rest of one's day werereceptions and teas and musicales--a person might take his choice amonga score of opportunities, and never leave the circle he met at Mrs. Devon's. Nor was this counting the tens of thousands of aspirants andimitators all over the city; nor in a host of other cities, each withthousands of women who had nothing to do save to ape the ways of theMetropolis. The mind could not realize the volume of this deluge ofdestruction--it was a thing which stunned the senses, and thundered inone's ears like Niagara. 

The meaning of it all did not stop with the people who poured it forth;its effects were to be traced through the whole country. There werehordes of tradesmen and manufacturers who supplied what Society bought, and whose study it was to induce people to buy as much as possible. Andso they devised what were called "fashions"--little eccentricities ofcut and material, which made everything go out of date quickly. Therehad once been two seasons, but now there were four; and through windowdisplays and millions of advertisements the public was lured into thetrap. The "yellow" journals would give whole pages to describing "Whatthe 400 are wearing"; there were magazines with many millions ofreaders, which existed for nothing save to propagate these ideas. Andeverywhere, in all classes of Society, men and women were starvingtheir minds and hearts, and straining their energies to follow thisphantom of fashion; the masses were kept poor because of it, and theyouth and hope of the world was betrayed by it. In country villagespoor farmers' wives were trimming their bonnets over to be "stylish";and servant-girls in the cities were wearing imitation sealskins, andshop-clerks and sempstresses selling themselves into brothels for thesake of ribbons and gilt jewellery. 

It was the instinct of decoration, perverted by the money-lust. In theMetropolis the sole test of excellence was money, and the possession ofmoney was the proof of power; and every natural desire of men and womenhad been tainted by this influence. The love of beauty, the impulse tohospitality, the joys of music and dancing and love--all these thingshad become simply means to the demonstration of money-power! The menwere busy making more money--but their idle women had nothing in lifesave this mad race in display. So it had come about that the woman whocould consume wealth most conspicuously--who was the most effectiveinstrument for the destroying of the labour and the lives of otherpeople--this was the woman who was most applauded and most noticed. 

The most appalling fact about Society was this utter blind materialism. Such expectations as Montague had brought with him had been derivedfrom the literature of Europe; in a grand monde such as this, heexpected to meet diplomats and statesmen, scientists and explorers, philosophers and poets and painters. But one never heard anything aboutsuch people in Society. It was a mark of eccentricity to be interestedin intellectual affairs, and one might go about for weeks and not meeta person with an idea. When these people read, it was a sugar-candynovel, and when they went to the play, it was a musical comedy. The onesingle intellectual product which it could point to as its own, was arancid scandal-sheet, used mainly as a means of blackmail. Now and thensome aspiring young matron of the "elite" would try to set up a salonafter the fashion of the continent, and would gather a few feeble witsabout her for a time. But for the most part the intellectual workers ofthe city held themselves severely aloof; and Society was left a littleclique of people whose fortunes had become historic in a decade or two, and who got together in each other's palaces and gorged themselves, andgambled and gossiped about each other, and wove about theirpersonalities a veil of awful and exclusive majesty. 

Montague found himself thinking that perhaps it was not they who wereto blame. It was not they who had set up wealth as the end and goal ofthings--it was the whole community, of which they were a part. It wasnot their fault that they had been left with power and nothing to useit for; it was not their fault that their sons and daughters foundthemselves stranded in the world, deprived of all necessity, and of thepossibility of doing anything useful. 

The most pitiful aspect of the whole thing to Montague was this "secondgeneration" who were coming upon the scene, with their lives allpoisoned in advance. No wrong which they could do to the world wouldever equal the wrong which the world had done them, in permitting themto have money which they had not earned. They were cut off for everfrom reality, and from the possibility of understanding life; they hadbig, healthy bodies, and they craved experience--and they hadabsolutely nothing to do. That was the real meaning of all this orgy ofdissipation--this "social whirl" as it was called; it was the franticchase of some new thrill, some excitement that would stir the senses ofpeople who had nothing in the world to interest them. That was why theywere building palaces, and flinging largesses of banquets and balls, and tearing about the country in automobiles, and travelling over theearth in steam yachts and private trains. 

And first and last, the lesson of their efforts was, that the chasewas futile; the jaded nerves would not thrill. The most conspicuousfact about Society was its unutterable and agonizing boredom; of itsgreat solemn functions the shop-girl would read with greedy envy, butthe women who attended them would be half asleep behind their jewelledfans. It was typified to Montague by Mrs. Billy Alden's yachting partyon the Nile; yawning in the face of the Sphinx, and playing bridgebeneath the shadow of the pyramids--and counting the crocodiles andproposing to jump in by way of "changing the pain"!

People attended these ceaseless rounds of entertainments, simplybecause they dreaded to be left alone. They wandered from place toplace, following like a herd of sheep whatever leader would inauguratea new diversion. One could have filled a volume with the list of their"fads. " There were new ones every week--if Society did not invent them, the yellow journals invented them. There was a woman who had her teethfilled with diamonds; and another who was driving a pair of zebras. Oneheard of monkey dinners and pyjama dinners at Newport, of horsebackdinners and vegetable dances in New York. One heard of fashion-albumsand autograph-fans and talking crows and rare orchids and reindeermeat; of bracelets for men and ankle rings for women; of "vanity-boxes"at ten and twenty thousand dollars each; of weird and repulsive pets, chameleons and lizards and king-snakes--there was one young woman whowore a cat-snake as a necklace. One would take to slumming and anotherto sniffing brandy through the nose; one had a table-cover made ofwoven roses, and another was wearing perfumed flannel at sixteendollars a yard; one had inaugurated ice-skating in August, and anotherhad started a class for the study of Plato. Some were giving tennistournaments in bathing-suits, and playing leap-frog after dinner;others had got dispensations from the Pope, so that they might haveprivate chapels and confessors; and yet others were giving "progressivedinners, " moving from one restaurant to another--a cocktail andblue-points at Sherry's, a soup and Madeira at Delmonico's, someterrapin with amontillado at the Waldorf--and so on. 

One of the consequences of the furious pace was that people's healthbroke down very quickly; and there were all sorts of bizarre ways ofrestoring it. One person would be eating nothing but spinach, andanother would be living on grass. One would chew a mouthful of soupthirty-two times; another would eat every two hours, and another onlyonce a week. Some went out in the early morning and walked bare-footedin the grass, and others went hopping about the floor on their handsand knees to take off fat. There were "rest cures" and "water cures, ""new thought" and "metaphysical healing" and "Christian Science"; therewas an automatic horse, which one might ride indoors, with a registershowing the distance travelled. Montague met one man who had anelectric machine, which cost thirty thousand dollars, and which tookhold of his arms and feet and exercised him while he waited. He met awoman who told him she was riding an electric camel!

Everywhere one went there were new people, spending their money in newand incredible ways. Here was a man who had bought a chapel and turnedit into a theatre, and hired professional actors, and persuaded hisfriends to come and see him act Shakespeare. Here was a woman whocostumed herself after figures in famous paintings, with arrangementsof roses and cherry leaves, and wreaths of ivy and laurel--and withcostumes for her pet dogs to match! Here was a man who paid six dollarsa day for a carnation four inches across; and a girl who wore a hattrimmed with fresh morning-glories, and a ball costume with swarms ofreal butterflies tied with silk threads; and another with a hat made ofwoven silver, with ostrich plumes forty inches long made entirely ofsilver films. Here was a man who hired a military company to drill allday long to prepare a floor for dancing; and another who put up abuilding at a cost of thirty thousand dollars to give a débutante dancefor his daughter, and then had it torn down the day after. Here was aman who bred rattlesnakes and turned them loose by thousands, and haddriven everybody away from the North Carolina estate of one of theWallings. Here was a man who was building himself a yacht with a modeldairy and bakery on board, and a French laundry and a brass band. Herewas a million-dollar racing-yacht with auto-boats on it and a platoonof marksmen, and some Chinese laundrymen, and two physicians for itshalf-insane occupant. Here was a man who had bought a Rhine castle forthree-quarters of a million, and spent as much in restoring it, andfilled it with servants dressed in fourteenth-century costumes. Herewas a five-million-dollar art collection hidden away where nobody eversaw it!

One saw the meaning of this madness most clearly in the young men ofSociety. Some were killing themselves and other people in automobileraces at a hundred and twenty miles an hour. Some went in forauto-boats, mere shells of things, shaped like a knife-blade, that torethrough the water at forty miles an hour. Some would hire professionalpugilists to knock them out; others would get up dog-fights andbear-fights, and boxing matches with kangaroos. Montague was taken tothe home of one young man who had given his life to hunting wild gamein every corner of the globe, and would travel round the world for anew species to add to his museum of trophies. He had heard that BaronRothschild had offered a thousand pounds for a "bongo, " a hugegrass-eating animal, which no white man had ever seen; and he had takena year's trip into the interior, with a train of a hundred and thirtynatives, and had brought out the heads of forty different species, including a bongo--which the Baron did not get! He met another who hadhelped to organize a balloon club, and two twenty-four-hour trips inthe clouds. (This, by the way, was the latest sport--at Tuxedo they hadraces between balloons and automobiles; and Montague met one young ladywho boasted that she had been up five times. ) There was another youngmillionaire who sat and patiently taught Sunday School, in the presenceof a host of reporters; there was another who set up a chain ofnewspapers all over the country and made war upon his class. There wereothers who went in for settlement work and Russianrevolutionists--there were even some who called themselves Socialists!Montague thought that this was the strangest fad of all; and when hemet one of these young men at an afternoon tea, he gazed at him withwonder and perplexity--thinking of the man he had heard ranting on thestreet-corner. 

This was the "second generation. " Appalling as it was to think of, there was a third growing up, and getting ready to take the stage. Andwith wealth accumulating faster than ever, who could guess what theymight do? There were still in Society a few men and women who hadearned their money, and had some idea of the toil and suffering that itstood for; but when the third generation had taken possession, thesewould all be dead or forgotten, and there would no longer be any linkto connect them with reality!

In the light of this thought one was moved to watch the children of therich. Some of these had inherited scores of millions of dollars whilethey were still in the cradle; now and then one of them would bepresented with a million-dollar house for a birthday gift. When such ababy was born, the newspapers would give pages to describing itslayette, with baby dresses at a hundred dollars each, and lacehandkerchiefs at five dollars, and dressing-sets with tiny gold brushesand powder-boxes; one might see a picture of the precious object in a"Moses basket, " covered with rare and wonderful Valenciennes lace. 

This child would grow up in an atmosphere of luxury andself-indulgence; it would be bullying the servants at the age of six, and talking scandal and smoking cigarettes at twelve. It would bepetted and admired and stared at, and paraded about in state, dressedup like a French doll; it would drink in snobbery and hatefulness withthe very air it breathed. One might meet in these great houses littletots not yet in their teens whose talk was all of the cost of things, and of the inferiority of their neighbours. There was nothing in theworld too good for them. --They had little miniature automobiles to rideabout the country in, and blooded Arabian ponies, and doll-houses inreal Louis Seize, with jewelled rugs and miniature electric lights. AtMrs. Caroline Smythe's, Montague was introduced to a pale andanaemic-looking youth of thirteen, who dined in solemn state alone whenthe rest of the family was away, and insisted upon having all thefootmen in attendance; and his unfortunate aunt brought a storm abouther ears by forbidding the butler to take champagne upstairs into thenursery before lunch. 

A little remark stayed in Montague's mind as expressing the attitude ofSociety toward such matters. Major Venable had chanced to remarkjestingly that children were coming to understand so much nowadays thatit was necessary for the ladies to be careful. To which Mrs. ViviePatton answered, with a sudden access of seriousness: "I don't know--doyou find that children have any morals? Mine haven't. "

And then the fascinating Mrs. Vivie went on to tell the truth about herown children. They were natural-born savages, and that was all therewas to it. They did as they pleased, and no one could stop them. TheMajor replied that nowadays all the world was doing as it pleased, andno one seemed to be able to stop it; and with that jest theconversation was turned to other matters. But Montague sat in silence, thinking about it--wondering what would happen to the world when it hadfallen under the sway of this generation of spoiled children, and hadadopted altogether the religion of doing as one pleased. 

In the beginning people had simply done as they pleased spontaneously, and without thinking about it; but now, Montague discovered, the customhad spread to such an extent that it was developing a philosophy. Therewas springing up a new cult, whose devotees were planning to make overthe world upon the plan of doing as one pleased. Because its memberswere wealthy, and able to command the talent of the world, the cult wasdeveloping an art, with a highly perfected technique, and a literaturewhich was subtle and exquisite and alluring. Europe had had such aliterature for a century, and England for a generation or two. And nowAmerica was having it, too!

Montague had an amusing insight into this one day, when Mrs. Vivieinvited him to one of her "artistic evenings. " Mrs. Vivie was in touchwith a special set which went in for intellectual things, and includedsome amateur Bohemians and men of "genius. " "Don't you come if you'llbe shocked, " she had said to him--"for Strathcona will be there. "

Montague deemed himself able to stand a good deal by this time. Hewent, and found Mrs. Vivie and her Count (Mr. Vivie had apparently notbeen invited) and also the young poet of Diabolism, whose work was justthen the talk of the town. He was a tall, slender youth with a whiteface and melancholy black eyes, and black locks falling in cascadesabout his ears; he sat in an Oriental corner, with a manuscript copiedin tiny handwriting upon delicately scented "art paper, " and tied withpassionate purple ribbons. A young girl clad in white sat by his sideand held a candle, while he read from this manuscript his unprinted(because unprintable) verses. 

And between the readings the young poet talked. He talked about himselfand his work--apparently that was what he had come to talk about. Hiswords flowed like a swift stream, limpid, sparkling, incessant; leapingfrom place to place--here, there, quick as the play of light upon thewater. Montague laboured to follow the speaker's ideas, until he foundhis mind in a whirl and gave it up. Afterward, when he thought it over, he laughed at himself; for Strathcona's ideas were not serious things, having relationship to truth--they were epigrams put together to dazzlethe hearer, studies in paradox, with as much relation to life asfireworks. He took the sum-total of the moral experience of the humanrace, and turned it upside down and jumbled it about, and used it asbits of glass in a kaleidoscope. And the hearers would gasp, andwhisper, "Diabolical!"

The motto of this "school" of poets was that there was neither good norevil, but that all things were "interesting. " After listening toStrathcona for half an hour, one felt like hiding his head, and denyingthat he had ever thought of having any virtue; in a world where allthings were uncertain, it was presumptuous even to pretend to know whatvirtue was. One could only be what one was; and did not that mean thatone must do as one pleased?

You could feel a shudder run through the company at his audacity. Andthe worst of it was that you could not dismiss it with a laugh; for theboy was really a poet--he had fire and passion, the gift of melodiousecstacy. He was only twenty, and in his brief meteor flight he had runthe gamut of all experience; he had familiarized himself with all humanachievement--past, present, and future. There was nothing any one couldmention that he did not perfectly comprehend: the raptures of thesaints, the consecration of the martyrs--yes, he had known them;likewise he had touched the depths of depravity, he had been lost inthe innermost passages of the caverns of hell. And all this had beeninteresting--in its time; now he was sighing for new worlds ofexperience--say for unrequited love, which should drive him to madness. 

It was at this point that Montague dropped out of the race, and took tostudying from the outside the mechanism of this young poet'sconversation. Strathcona flouted the idea of a moral sense; but inreality he was quite dependent upon it--his recipe for making epigramswas to take what other people's moral sense made them respect, andidentify it with something which their moral sense made them abhor. Thus, for instance, the tale which he told about one of the members ofhis set, who was a relative of a bishop. The great man had occasion torebuke him for his profligate ways, declaring in the course of hislecture that he was living off the reputation of his father; to whichthe boy made the crushing rejoinder: "It may be bad to live off thereputation of one's father, but it's better than living off thereputation of God. "--This was very subtle and it was necessary toponder it. God was dead; and the worthy bishop did not know it! But lethim take a new God, who had no reputation, and go out into the worldand make a living out of him!

Then Strathcona discussed literature. He paid his tribute to the"Fleurs de Mal" and the "Songs before Sunrise"; but most, he said, heowed to "the divine Oscar. " This English poet of many poses and somevices the law had seized and flung into jail; and since the law is athing so brutal and wicked that whoever is touched by it is madethereby a martyr and a hero, there had grown up quite a cult about thememory of "Oscar. " All up-to-date poets imitated his style and hisattitude to life; and so the most revolting of vices had the cloak ofromance flung about them--were given long Greek and Latin names, anddiscussed with parade of learning as revivals of Hellenic ideals. Theyoung men in Strathcona's set referred to each other as their "lovers";and if one showed any perplexity over this, he was regarded, not withcontempt--for it was not aesthetic to feel contempt--but with a slightlifting of the eyebrows, intended to annihilate. 

One must not forget, of course, that these young people were poets, andto that extent were protected from their own doctrines. They wereinterested, not in life, but in making pretty verses about life; therewere some among them who lived as cheerful ascetics in garret rooms, and gave melodious expression to devilish emotions. But, on the otherhand, for every poet, there were thousands who were not poets, butpeople to whom life was real. And these lived out the creed, andwrecked their lives; and with the aid of the poet's magic, the glamourof melody and the fire divine, they wrecked the lives with which theycame into contact. The new generation of boys and girls were derivingtheir spiritual sustenance from the poetry of Baudelaire and Wilde; andrushing with the hot impulsiveness of youth into the dreadful trapswhich the traders in vice prepared for them. One's heart bled to seethem, pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, pursuing the hem of the Muse's robein brothels and dens of infamy!

CHAPTER XVII

The social mill ground on for another month. Montague withdrew himselfas much as his brother would let him; but Alice, was on the go allnight and half the day. Oliver had sold his racing automobile to afriend--he was a man of family now, he said, and his wild days wereover. He had got, instead, a limousine car for Alice; though shedeclared she had no need of it--if ever she was going to any place, Charlie Carter always begged her to use his. Charlie's siege was aspersistent as ever, as Montague noticed with annoyance. 

The great law case was going forward. After weeks of study andinvestigation, Montague felt that he had the matter well in hand; andhe had taken Mr. Hasbrook's memoranda as a basis for a new work of hisown, much more substantial. Bit by bit; as he dug into the subject, hehad discovered a state of affairs in the Fidelity Company, and, indeed, in the whole insurance business and its allied realms of banking andfinance, which shocked him profoundly. It was impossible for him toimagine how such conditions could exist and remain unknown to thepublic--more especially as every one in Wall Street with whom he talkedseemed to know about them and to take them for granted. 

His client's papers had provided him with references to the books;Montague had taken this dry material and made of it a protest which hadthe breath of life in it. It was a thing at which he toiled with deadlyearnestness; it was not merely a struggle of one man to get a fewthousand dollars, it was an appeal in behalf of millions of helplesspeople whose trust had been betrayed. It was the first step in a longcampaign, which the young lawyer meant should force a great evil intothe light of day. 

He went over his bill of complaint with Mr. Hasbrook, and he was gladto see that the work he had done made its impression upon him. In fact, his client was a little afraid that some of his arguments might be tooradical in tone--from the strictly legal point of view, he made hasteto explain. But Montague reassured him upon this point. 

And then came the day when the great ship was ready for launching. Thenews must have spread quickly, for a few hours after the papers in thesuit had been filed, Montague received a call from a newspaperreporter, who told him of the excitement in financial circles, wherethe thing had fallen like a bomb. Montague explained the purpose of thesuit, and gave the reporter a number of facts which he felt certainwould attract attention to the matter. When he picked up the paper thenext morning, however, he was surprised to find that only a few lineshad been given to the case, and that his interview had been replaced byone with an unnamed official of the Fidelity, to the effect that theattack upon the company was obviously for black-mailing purposes. 

That was the only ripple which Montague's work produced upon thesurface of the pool; but there was a great commotion among the fish atthe bottom, about which he was soon to learn. 

That evening, while he was hard at work in his study, he received atelephone call from his brother. "I'm coming round to see you, " saidOliver. "Wait for me. "

"All right, " said the other, and added, "I thought you were dining atthe Wallings'. "

"I'm there now, " was the answer. "I'm leaving. "

"What is the matter?" Montague asked. 

"There's hell to pay, " was the reply--and then silence. 

When Oliver appeared, a few minutes later, he did not even stop to setdown his hat, but exclaimed, "Allan, what in heaven's name have youbeen doing?"

"What do you mean?" asked the other. 

"Why, that suit!"

"What about it?"

"Good God, man!" cried Oliver. "Do you mean that you really don't knowwhat you've done?"

Montague was staring at him. "I'm afraid I don't, " said he. 

"Why, you're turning the world upside down!" exclaimed the other. "Everybody you know is crazy about it. "

"Everybody I know!" echoed Montague. "What have they to do with it?"

"Why, you've stabbed them in the back!" half shouted Oliver. "I couldhardly believe my ears when they told me. Robbie Walling is simplywild--I never had such a time in my life. "

"I don't understand yet, " said Montague, more and more amazed. "Whathas he to do with it?"

"Why, man, " cried Oliver, "his brother's a director in the Fidelity!And his own interests--and all the other companies! You've struck atthe whole insurance business!"

Montague caught his breath. "Oh, I see!" he said. 

"How could you think of such a thing?" cried the other, wildly. "Youpromised to consult me about things--"

"I told you when I took this case, " put in Montague, quickly. 

"I know, " said his brother. "But you didn't explain--and what did Iknow about it? I thought I could leave it to your common sense not tomix up in a thing like this. "

"I'm very sorry, " said Montague, gravely. "I had no idea of any suchresult. "

"That's what I told Robbie, " said Oliver. "Good God, what a time I had!"

He took his hat and coat and laid them on the bed, and sat down andbegan to tell about it. "I made him realize the disadvantage you wereunder, " he said, "being a stranger and not knowing the ground. Ibelieve he had an idea that you tried to get his confidence on purposeto attack him. It was Mrs. Robbie, I guess--you know her fortune is allin that quarter. "

Oliver wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "My!" he said. --"Andfancy what old Wyman must be saying about this! And what a time poorBetty must be having! And then Freddie Vandam--the air will be blue forhalf a mile round his place! I must send him a wire and explain that itwas a mistake, and that we're getting out of it. "

And he got up, to suit the action to the word. But half-way to the deskhe heard his brother say, "Wait. "

He turned, and saw Montague, quite pale. "I suppose by 'getting out ofit, '" said the latter, "you mean dropping the case. "

"Of course, " was the answer. 

"Well, then, " he continued, very gravely, --"I can see that it's goingto be hard, and I'm sorry. But you might as well understand me at thevery beginning--I will never drop this case. "

Oliver's jaw fell limp. "Allan!" he gasped. 

There was a silence; and then the storm broke. Oliver knew his brotherwell enough to realize just how thoroughly he meant what he said; andso he got the full force of the shock all at once. He raved and sworeand wrung his hands, and declaimed at his brother, saying that he hadbetrayed him, that he was ruining him--dumping himself and the wholefamily into the ditch. They would be jeered at and insulted--they wouldbe blacklisted and thrown out of Society. Alice's career would be cutshort--every door would be closed to her. His own career would diebefore it was born; he would never get into the clubs--he would be apariah--he would be bankrupted and penniless. Again and again Oliverwent over the situation, naming person after person who would beoutraged, and describing what that person would do; there were theWallings and the Venables and the Havens, the Vandams and the Todds andthe Wymans--they were all one regiment, and Montague had flung a bombinto the centre of them!

It was very terrible to him to see his brother's rage and despair; buthe had seen his way clear through this matter, and he knew that therewas no turning back for him. "It is painful to learn that all one'sacquaintances are thieves, " he said. "But that does not change myopinion of stealing. "

"But my God!" cried Oliver; "did you come to New York to preachsermons?"

To which the other answered, "I came to practise law. And the lawyerwho will not fight injustice is a traitor to his profession. "

Oliver threw up his hands in despair. What could one say to a sentimentsuch as that?

--But then again he came to the charge, pointing out to his brother theposition in which he had placed himself with the Wallings. He hadaccepted their hospitality; they had taken him and Alice in, and doneeverything in the world for them--things for which no money could everrepay them. And now he had struck them!

But the only effect of that was to make Montague regret that he hadever had anything to do with the Wallings. If they expected to usetheir friendship to tie his hands in such a matter, they were people hewould have left alone. 

"But do you realize that it's not merely yourself you're ruining?"cried Oliver. "Do you know what you're doing to Alice?"

"That is harder yet for me, " the other replied. "But I am sure thatAlice would not ask me to stop. "

Montague was firmly set in his own mind; but it seemed to be quiteimpossible for his brother to realize that this was the case. He wouldgive up; but then, going back into his own mind, and facing the thoughtof this person and that, and the impossibility of the situation whichwould arise, he would return to the attack with new anguish in hisvoice. He implored and scolded, and even wept; and then he would gethimself together again, and come and sit in front of his brother andtry to reason with him. 

And so it was that in the small hours of the morning, Montague, paleand nervous, but quite unshaken, was sitting and listening while hisbrother unfolded before him a picture of the Metropolis as he had cometo see it. It was a city ruled by mighty forces--money-forces; greatfamilies and fortunes, which had held their sway for generations, andregarded the place, with all its swarming millions, as theirbirthright. They possessed it utterly--they held it in the hollow oftheir hands. Railroads and telegraphs and telephones--banks andinsurance and trust companies--all these they owned; and the politicalmachines and the legislatures, the courts and the newspapers, thechurches and the colleges. And their rule was for plunder; all thestreams of profit ran into their coffers. The stranger who came totheir city succeeded as he helped them in their purposes, and failed ifthey could not use him. A great editor or bishop was a man who taughttheir doctrines; a great statesman was a man who made the laws forthem; a great lawyer was one who helped them to outwit the public. Anyman who dared to oppose them, they would cast out and trample on, theywould slander and ridicule and ruin. 

And Oliver came down to particulars--he named these powerful men, oneafter one, and showed what they could do. If his brother would only bea man of the world, and see the thing! Look at all the successfullawyers! Oliver named them, one after one--shrewd devisers ofcorporation trickery, with incomes of hundreds of thousands a year. Hecould not name the men who had refused to play the game--for no one hadever heard of them. But it was so evident what would happen in thiscase! His friends would cast him off; his own client would get hisprice--whatever it was--and then leave him in the lurch, and laugh athim! "If you can't make up your mind to play the game, " cried Oliver, frantically, "at least you can give it up! There are plenty of otherways of getting a living--if you'll let me, I'll take care of youmyself, rather than have you disgrace me. Tell me--will you do that?Will you quit altogether?"

And Montague suddenly leaped to his feet, and brought his fist downupon the desk with a bang. "No!" he cried; "by God, no!"

"Let me make you understand me once for all, " he rushed on. "You'veshown me New York as you see it. I don't believe it's the truth--Idon't believe it for one single moment! But let me tell you this, Ishall stay here and find out--and if it is true, it won't stop me! Ishall stay here and defy those people! I shall stay and fight them tillthe day I die! They may ruin me, --I'll go and live in a garret if Ihave to, --but as sure as there's a God that made me, I'll never stoptill I've opened the eyes of the people to what they're doing!"

Montague towered over his brother, white-hot and terrible. Olivershrank from him--he never had seen such a burst of wrath from himbefore. "Do you understand me now?" Montague cried; and he answered, ina despairing voice, "Yes, yes. "

"I see it's all up, " he added weakly. "You and I can't pull together. "

"No, " exclaimed the other, passionately, "we can't. And we might aswell give up trying. You have chosen to be a time-server and alick-spittle, and I don't choose it! Do you think I've learned nothingin the time I've been here? Why, man, you used to be daring andclever--and now you never draw a breath without wondering if these richsnobs will like the way you do it! And you want Alice to sell herselfto them--you want me to sell my career to them!"

There was a long pause. Oliver had turned very pale. And then suddenlyhis brother caught himself together, and said: "I'm sorry. I didn'tmean to quarrel, but you've goaded me too much. I'm grateful for whatyou have tried to do for me, and I'll pay you back as soon as I can. But I can't go on with this game. I'll quit, and you can disown me toyour friends--tell them that I've run amuck, and to forget they everknew me. They'll hardly blame you for it--they know you too well forthat. And as for Alice, I'll talk it out with her to-morrow, and lether decide for herself--if she wants to be a Society queen, she can putherself in your hands, and I'll get out of her way. On the other hand, if she approves of what I'm doing, why we'll both quit, and you won'thave to bother with either of us. "

That was the basis upon which they parted for the night; but like mostresolutions taken at white heat, it was not followed literally. It wasvery hard for Montague to have to confront Alice with such a choice;and as for Oliver, when he went home and thought it over, he began todiscover gleams of hope. He might make it clear to every one that hewas not responsible for his brother's business vagaries, and take hischances upon that basis. After all, there were wheels within wheels inSociety; and if the Robbie Wallings chose to break with him--why, theyhad plenty of enemies. There might even be interests which would bebenefited by Allan's course, and would take him up. 

Montague had resolved to write and break every engagement which he hadmade, and to sever his connection with Society at one stroke. But thenext day his brother came again, with compromises and newprotestations. There was no use going to the other extreme: he, Oliver, would have it out with the Wallings, and they might all go on their wayas if nothing had happened. 

So Montague made his début in the rôle of knight-errant. He went withmany qualms and misgivings, uncertain how each new person would takeit. The next evening he was promised for a theatre-party with SiegfriedHarvey; and they had supper in a private room at Delmonico's, and therecame Mrs. Winnie, resplendent as an apple tree in early April--andmurmuring with bated breath, "Oh, you dreadful man, what have you beendoing?"

"Have I been poaching on YOUR preserves?" he asked promptly. 

"No, not mine, " she said, "but--" and then she hesitated. 

"On Mr. Duval's?" he asked. 

"No, " she said, "not his--but everybody else's! He was telling me aboutit to-day--there's a most dreadful uproar. He wanted me to try to findout what you were up to, and who was behind it. "

Montague listened, wonderingly. Did Mrs. Winnie mean to imply that herhusband had asked her to try to worm his business secrets out of him?That was what she seemed to imply. "I told him I never talked businesswith my friends, " she said. "He can ask you himself, if he chooses. Butwhat DOES it all mean, anyhow?"

Montague smiled at the naive inconsistency. 

"It means nothing, " said he, "except that I am trying to get justicefor a client. "

"But can you afford to make so many powerful enemies?" she asked. 

"I've taken my chances on that, " he replied. 

Mrs. Winnie answered nothing, but looked at him with wonderingadmiration in her eyes. "You arc different from the men about you, " sheremarked, after a while-and her tone gave Montague to understand thatthere was one person who meant to stand by him. 

But Mrs. Winnie Duval was not all Society. Montague was amused tonotice with what suddenness the stream of invitations slacked up; itwas necessary for Alice to give her calling list many revisions. Freddie Vandam had promised to invite them to his place on Long Island, and of course that invitation would never come; likewise they wouldnever again see the palace of the Lester Todds, upon the Jerseymountain-top. 

Oliver put in the next few days in calling upon people to explain hisembarrassing situation. He washed his hands of his brother's affairs, he said; and his friends might do the same, if they saw fit. With theRobbie Wallings he had a stormy half hour, about which he thought itbest to say little to the rest of the family. Robbie did not break withhim utterly, because of their Wall Street Alliance; but Mrs. Robbie'sfeeling was so bitter, he said, that it would be best if Alice sawnothing of her for a while. He had a long talk with Alice, andexplained the situation. The girl was utterly dumbfounded, for she wasdeeply grateful to Mrs. Robbie, and fond of her as well; and she couldnot believe that a friend could be so cruelly unjust to her. 

The upshot of the whole situation was a very painful episode. A fewdays later Alice met Mrs. Robbie at a reception; and she took the ladyaside, and tried to tell her how distressed and helpless she was. Andthe result was that Mrs. Robbie flew into a passion and railed at her, declaring in the presence of several people that she had sponged uponher and abused her hospitality! And so poor Alice came home, weepingand half hysterical. 

All of which, of course, was like oil upon a fire; the heavens werelighted up with the conflagration. The next development was a paragraphin Society's scandal-sheet--telling with infinite gusto how a certainultra-fashionable matron had taken up a family of stranded waifs from afar State, and introduced them into the best circles, and even gone sofar as to give a magnificent dance in their honour; and how thediscovery had been made that the head of the family had been secretlypreparing an attack upon their business interests; and of the tearingof hair and gnashing of teeth which had followed--and the violentquarrel in a public place. The paragraph concluded with the predictionthat the strangers would find themselves the centre of a merry socialwar. 

Oliver was the first to show them this paper. But lest by any chancethey should miss it, half a dozen unknown friends were good enough tomail them copies, carefully marked. --And then came Reggie Mann, who asfree-lance and gossip-gatherer sat on the fence and watched the fun;Reggie wore a thin veil of sympathy over his naked glee, and broughtthem the latest reports from all portions of the battle-ground. Thusthey were able to know exactly what everybody was saying aboutthem--who was amused and who was outraged, and who proposed to dropthem and who to take them up. 

Montague listened for a while, but then he got tired of it, and wentfor a walk to escape it--but only to run into another trap. It wasdark, and he was strolling down the Avenue, when out of a brilliantlylighted jewellery shop came Mrs. Billy Alden to her carriage. And shehailed him with an exclamation. 

"You man, " she cried, "what have you been doing?"

He tried to laugh it off and escape, but she took him by the arm, commanding, "Get in here and tell me about it. "

So he found himself moving with the slow stream of vehicles on theAvenue, and with Mrs. Billy gazing at him quizzically and asking him ifhe did not feel like a hippopotamus in a frog-pond. 

He replied to her raillery by asking her under which flag she stood. But there was little need to ask that, for anyone who was fighting aWalling became ipso facto a friend of Mrs. Billy's. She told Montaguethat if he felt his social position was imperilled, all he had to dowas to come to her. She would gird on her armour and take the field. 

"But tell me how you came to do it, " she said. 

He answered that there was very little to tell. He had taken up a casewhich was obviously just, but having no idea what a storm it wouldraise. 

Then he noticed that his companion was looking at him sharply. "Do youreally mean that's all there is to it?" she asked. 

"Of course I do, " said he, perplexed. 

"Do you know, " was her unexpected response, "I hardly know what to makeof you. I'm afraid to trust you, on account of your brother. "

Montague was embarrassed. "I don't know what you mean, " he said. 

"Everybody thinks there's some trickery in that suit, " she answered. 

"Oh, " said Montague, "I see. Well, they will find out. If it will helpyou any to know it, I've been having no end of scenes with my brother. "

"I'll believe you, " said Mrs. Billy, genially. "But it seems strangethat a man could have been so blind to a situation! I feel quiteashamed because I didn't help you myself!"

The carriage had stopped at Mrs. Billy's home, and she asked him todinner. "There'll be nobody but my brother, " she said, --"we're restingthis evening. And I can make up to you for my negligence!"

Montague had no engagement, and so he went in, and saw Mrs. Billy'smansion, which was decorated in imitation of a Doge's palace, and metMr. "Davy" Alden, a mild-mannered little gentleman who obeyed orderspromptly. They had a comfortable dinner of half-a-dozen courses, andthen retired to the drawing-room, where Mrs. Billy sank into a hugeeasy chair, with a decanter of whisky and some cracked ice in readinessbeside it. Then from a tray she selected a thick black cigar, andplacidly bit off the end and lighted it, and then settled back at herease, and proceeded to tell Montague about New York, and about thegreat families who ruled it, and where and how they had got theirmoney, and who were their allies and who their enemies, and whatparticular skeletons were hidden in each of their closets. 

It was worth coming a long way to listen to Mrs. Billy tete-a-tete; herthoughts were vigorous, and her imagery was picturesque. She spoke ofold Dan Waterman, and described him as a wild boar rooting chestnuts. He was all right, she said, if you didn't come under his tree. AndMontague asked, "Which is his tree?" and she answered, "Any one hehappens to be under at the time. "

And then she came to the Wallings. Mrs. Billy had been in on the insideof that family, and there was nothing she didn't know about it; and shebrought the members up, one by one, and dissected them, and exhibitedthem for Montague's benefit. They were typical bourgeois people, shesaid. They were burghers. They had never shown the least capacity forrefinement--they ate and drank, and jostled other people out of theway. The old ones had been boors, and the new ones were cads. 

And Mrs. Billy sat and puffed at her cigar. "Do you know the history ofthe family?" she asked. "The founder was a rough old ferryman. Hefought his rivals so well that in the end he owned all the boats; andthen some one discovered the idea of buying legislatures and buildingrailroads, and he went into that. It was a time when they simplygrabbed things--if you ever look into it, you'll find they're makingfortunes to-day out of privileges that the old man simply sat down onand held. There's a bridge at Albany, for instance, to which theyhaven't the slightest right; my brother knows about it--they've giventhemselves a contract with their railroad by which they're paid forevery passenger, and their profit every year is greater than the costof the bridge. The son was the head of the family when I came in; and Ifound that he had it all arranged to leave thirty million dollars toone of his sons, and only ten million to my husband. I set to work tochange that, I can tell you. I used to go around to see him, andscratch his back and tickle him and make him feel good. Of course thefamily went wild--my, how they hated me! They set old Ellis to work tokeep me off--have you met Judge Ellis?"

"I have, " said Montague. 

"Well, there's a pussy-footed old hypocrite for you, " said Mrs. Billy. "In those days he was Walling's business lackey--used to pass the moneyto the legislators and keep the wheels of the machine greased. One ofthe first things I said to the old man was that I didn't ask him toentertain my butler, and he mustn't ask me to entertain his valet--andso I forbid Ellis to enter my house. And when I found that he wastrying to get between the old man and me, I flew into a rage and boxedhis ears and chased him out of the room!"

Mrs. Billy paused, and laughed heartily over the recollection. "Ofcourse that tickled the old man to death, " she continued. "The Wallingsnever could make out how I managed to get round him as I did; but itwas simply because I was honest with him. They'd come snivelling round, pretending they were anxious about his health; while I wanted hismoney, and I told him so. "

The valiant lady turned to the decanter. "Have some Scotch?" she asked, and poured some for herself, and then went on with her story. "When Ifirst came to New York, " she said, "the rich people's houses were allalike--all dreary brownstone fronts, sandwiched in on one or two citylots. I vowed that I would have a house with some room all aroundit--and that was the beginning of those palaces that all New York walksby and stares at. You can hardly believe it now--those houses were ascandal! But the sensation tickled the old man. I remember one day wewalked up the Avenue to see how they were coming on; and he pointedwith his big stick to the second floor, and asked, 'What's that?' Ianswered, 'It's a safe I'm building into the house. ' (That was a newthing, too, in those days. )--'I'm going to keep my money in that, ' Isaid. 'Bah!' he growled, 'when you're done with this house, you won'thave any money left. '--'I'm planning to make you fill it for me, ' Ianswered; and do you know, he chuckled all the way home over it!"

Mrs. Billy sat laughing softly to herself. "We had great old battles inthose days, " she said. "Among other things, I had to put the Wallingsinto Society. They were sneaking round on the outside when Icame--licking people's boots and expecting to be kicked. I said tomyself, I'll put an end to that--we'll have a show-down! So I gave aball that made the whole country sit up and gasp--it wouldn't benoticed particularly nowadays, but then people had never dreamed ofanything so gorgeous. And I made out a list of all the people I wantedto know in New York, and I said to myself: 'If you come, you're afriend, and if you don't come, you're an enemy. ' And they all came, letme tell you! And there was never any question about the Wallings beingin Society after that. "

Mrs. Billy halted; and Montague remarked, with a smile, that doubtlessshe was sorry now that she had done it. 

"Oh, no, " she answered, with a shrug of her shoulders. "I find that allI have to do is to be patient--I hate people, and think I'd like topoison them, but if I only wait long enough, something happens to themmuch worse than I ever dreamed of. You'll be revenged on the Robbiessome day. "

"I don't want any revenge, " Montague answered. "I've no quarrel withthem--I simply wish I hadn't accepted their hospitality. I didn't knowthey were such little people. It seems hard to believe it. "

Mrs. Billy laughed cynically. "What could you expect?" she said. "Theyknow there's nothing to them but their money. When that's gone, they'regone--they could never make any more. "

The lady gave a chuckle, and added: "Those words make me think ofDavy's experience when he wanted to go to Congress! Tell him about it, Davy. "

But Mr. Alden did not warm to the subject; he left the tale to hissister. 

"He was a Democrat, you know, " said she, "and he went to the boss andtold him he'd like to go to Congress. The answer was that it would costhim forty thousand dollars, and he kicked at the price. Others didn'thave to put up such sums, he said--why should he? And the old mangrowled at him, 'The rest have other things to give. One can deliverthe letter-carriers, another is paid for by a corporation. But what canyou do? What is there to you but your money?'--So Davy paid themoney--didn't you, Davy?" And Davy grinned sheepishly. 

"Even so, " she went on, "he came off better than poor Devon. They gotfifty thousand out of him, and sold him out, and he never got toCongress after all! That was just before he concluded that Americawasn't a fit place for a gentleman to live in. "

And so Mrs. Billy got started on the Devons! And after that came theHavens and the Wymans and the Todds--it was midnight before she gotthrough with them all. 

CHAPTER XVIII

The newspapers said nothing more about the Hasbrook suit; but infinancial circles Montague had attained considerable notoriety becauseof it. And this was the means of bringing him a number of new cases. 

But alas, there were no more fifty-thousand-dollar clients! The firstcaller was a destitute widow with a deed which would have entitled herto the greater part of a large city in Pennsylvania--only unfortunatelythe deed was about eighty years old. And then there was a poor old manwho had been hurt in a street-car accident and had been tricked intosigning away his rights; and an indignant citizen who proposed to bringa hundred suits against the traction trust for transfers refused. Allwere contingency cases, with the chances of success exceedingly remote. And Montague noticed that the people had come to him as a last resort, having apparently heard of him as a man of altruistic temper. 

There was one case which interested him particularly, because it seemedto fit in so ominously with the grim prognosis of his brother. Hereceived a call from an elderly gentleman, of very evident refinementand dignity of manner, who proceeded to unfold to him a most amazingstory. Five or six years ago he had invented a storage-battery, whichwas the most efficient known. He had organised a company with threemillion dollars' capital to manufacture it, himself taking a thirdinterest for his patents, and becoming president of the company. Notlong afterward had come a proposal from a group of men who wished toorganize a company to manufacture automobiles; they proposed to form analliance which would give them the exclusive use of the battery. Butthese men were not people with whom the inventor cared to deal--theywere traction and gas magnates widely known for their unscrupulousmethods. And so he had declined their offer, and set to work instead toorganize an automobile company himself. He had just got under way whenhe discovered that his rivals had set to work to take his inventionaway from him. A friend who owned another third share in his companyhad hypothecated his stock to help form the new company; and now came acall from the bank for more collateral, and he was obliged to sell out. And at the next stockholders' meeting it developed that their rivalshad bought it, and likewise more stock in the open market; and theyproceeded to take possession of the company, ousting the formerpresident--and then making a contract with their automobile company tofurnish the storage-battery at a price which left no profit for themanufacturers! And so for two years the inventor had not received adollar of dividends upon his million dollars' worth of paper; and tocap the climax, the company had refused to sell the battery to hisautomobile company, and so that had gone into bankruptcy, and hisfriend was ruined also!

Montague went into the case very carefully, and found that the storywas true. What interested him particularly in it was the fact that hehad met a couple of these financial highwaymen in social life; he hadcome to know the son and heir of one of them quite well, at SiegfriedHarvey's. This gilded youth was engaged to be married in a very fewdays, and the papers had it that the father-in-law had presented thebride with a cheque for a million dollars. Montague could not butwonder if it was the million that had been taken from his client!

There was to be a "bachelor dinner" at the Millionaires' on the nightbefore the wedding, to which he and Oliver had been invited. As he wasthinking of taking up his case, he went to his brother, saying that hewished to decline; but Oliver had been getting back his courage day byday, and declared that it was more important than ever now that heshould hold his ground, and face his enemies--for Alice's sake, if notfor his own. And so Montague went to the dinner, and saw deeper yetinto the history of the stolen millions. 

It was a very beautiful affair, in the beginning. There was a largeprivate dining-room, elaborately decorated, with a string orchestraconcealed in a bower of plants. But there were cocktails even on theside-board at the doorway; and by the time the guests had got to thecoffee, every one was hilariously drunk. After each toast they wouldhurl their glasses over their shoulders. The purpose of a "bachelordinner, " it appeared, was a farewell to the old days and the booncompanions; so there were sentimental and comic songs which had beencomposed for the occasion, and were received with whirlwinds oflaughter. 

By listening closely and reading between the lines, one might get quitea history of the young host's adventurous career. There was a house upon the West Side; and there was a yacht, with, orgies in every part ofthe world. There was the summer night in Newport harbour, when some onehad hit upon the dazzling scheme of freezing twenty-dollar gold piecesin tiny blocks of ice, to be dropped down the girls' backs! And therewas a banquet in a studio in New York, when a huge pie had been broughton, from which a half-nude girl had emerged, with a flock of canarybirds about her! Then there was a damsel who had been wont to danceupon the tops of supper tables, clad in diaphanous costume; and who hadgot drunk after a theatre-party, and set out to smash up a Broadwayrestaurant. There was a cousin from Chicago, a wild lad, who made aspeciality of this diversion, and whose mistresses were bathed inchampagne. --Apparently there were numberless places in the city wheresuch orgies were carried on continually; there were private clubs, andartists' "studios"--there were several allusions to a high tower, whichMontague did not comprehend. Many such matters, however, were explainedto him by an elderly gentleman who sat on his right, and who seemed tostay sober, no matter how much he drank. Incidentally he gravelyadvised Montague to meet one of the young host's mistresses, who was a"stunning" girl, and was in the market. 

Toward morning the festivities changed to a series of wrestling-bouts;the young men stripped off their clothing and tore the table to pieces, and piled it out of the way in a corner, smashing most of the crockeryin the process. Between the matches, champagne would be opened byknocking off the heads of the bottles; and this went on until fouro'clock in the morning, when many of the guests were lying in heapsupon the floor. 

Montague rode home in a cab with the elderly gentleman who had sat nextto him; and on the way he asked if such affairs as this were common. And his companion, who was a "steel man" from the West, replied bytelling him of some which he had witnessed at home. At SiegfriedHarvey's theatre-party Montague had seen a popular actress in a musicalcomedy, which was then the most successful play running in New York. The house was sold out weeks ahead, and after the matinee you mightobserve the street in front of the stage-entrance blocked by peoplewaiting to see the woman come out. She was lithe and supple, like apanther, and wore close-fitting gowns to reveal her form. It seemedthat her play must have been built with one purpose in mind, to see howmuch lewdness could be put upon a stage without interference by thepolice. --And now his companion told him how this woman had been invitedto sing at a banquet given by the magnates of a mighty Trust, and hadgone after midnight to the most exclusive club in the town, and sungher popular ditty, "Won't you come and play with me?" The merrymagnates had taken the invitation literally--with the result that theactress had escaped from the room with half her clothing torn off her. And a little while later an official of this trust had wished to getrid of his wife and marry a chorus-girl; and when public clamour hadforced the directors to ask him to resign, he had replied bythreatening to tell about this banquet!

The next day--or rather, to be precise, that same morning--Montague andAlice attended the gorgeous wedding. It was declared by the newspapersto be the most "important" social event of the week; and it took half adozen policemen to hold back the crowds which filled the street. Theceremony took place at St. Cecilia's, with the stately bishopofficiating, in his purple and scarlet robes. Inside the doors were allthe elect, exquisitely groomed and gowned, and such a medley ofdelicious perfumes as not all the vales in Arcady could equal. Thegroom had been polished and scrubbed, and looked very handsome, thoughsomewhat pale; and Montague could not but smile as he observed the bestman, looking so very solemn, and recollected the drunken wrestler of afew hours before, staggering about in a pale blue undershirt ripped upthe back. 

The Montagues knew by this time whom they were to avoid. They weregraciously taken under the wing of Mrs. Eldridge Devon--whose realestate was not affected by insurance suits; and the next morning theyhad the satisfaction of seeing their names in the list of thosepresent--and even a couple of lines about Alice's costume. (Alice wasalways referred to as "Miss Montague"; it was very pleasant to be the"Miss Montague, " and to think of all the other would-be Miss Montaguesin the city, who were thereby haughtily rebuked!) In the "yellow"papers there were also accounts of the trousseau of the bride, and ofthe wonderful gifts which she had received, and of the long honeymoonwhich she was to spend in the Mediterranean upon her husband's yacht. Montague found himself wondering if the ghosts of its former occupantswould not haunt her, and whether she would have been as happy, had sheknown as much as he knew. 

He found food for a good deal of thought in the memory of this banquet. Among the things which he had gathered from the songs was a hint thatOliver, also, had some secrets, which he had not seen fit to tell hisbrother. The keeping of young girls was apparently one of theestablished customs of the "little brothers of the rich"--and, for thatmatter, of many of the big brothers, also. A little later Montague hada curious glimpse into the life of this "half-world. " He had occasionone evening to call up a certain financier whom he had come to knowquite well-a man of family and a member of the church. There were someimportant papers to be signed and sent off by a steamer; and the greatman's secretary said that he would try to find him. A minute or twolater he called up Montague and asked him if he would be good enough togo to an address uptown. It was a house not far from Riverside Drive;and Montague went there and found his acquaintance, with several otherprominent men of affairs whom he knew, conversing in a drawing-roomwith one of the most charming ladies he had ever met. She was exquisiteto look at, and one of the few people in New York whom he had foundworth listening to. He spent such an enjoyable evening, that when hewas leaving, he remarked to the lady that he would like his cousinAlice to meet her; and then he noticed that she flushed slightly, andwas embarrassed. Later on he learned to his dismay that the charmingand beautiful lady did not go into Society. 

Nor was this at all rare; on the contrary, if one took the trouble tomake inquiries, he would find that such establishments were everywheretaken for granted. Montague talked about it with Major Venable; and outof his gossip storehouse the old gentleman drew forth a string ofanecdotes that made one's hair stand on end. There was one all-powerfulmagnate, who had a passion for the wife of a great physician; and hehad given a million dollars or so to build a hospital, and had providedthat it should be the finest in the world, and that this physicianshould go abroad for three years to study the institutions of Europe!No conventions counted with this old man--if he saw a woman whom hewanted, he would ask for her; and women in Society felt that it was anhonour to be his mistress. Not long after this a man who voiced theanguish of a mighty nation was turned out of several hotels in New Yorkbecause he was not married according to the laws of South Dakota; butthis other man would take a woman to any hotel in the city, and no onewould dare oppose him!

And there was another, a great traction king, who kept mistresses inChicago and Paris and London, as well as in New York; he had one justaround the corner from his palatial home, and had an undergroundpassage leading to it. And the Major told with glee how he had shownthis to a friend, and the latter had remarked, "I'm too stout to getthrough there. "--"I know it, " replied the other, "else I shouldn't havetold you!"

And so it went. One of the richest men in New York was a sexualdegenerate, with half a dozen women on his hands all the time; he wouldsend them cheques, and they would use these to blackmail him. Thisman's young wife had been shut up in a closet for twenty-four hours byher mother to compel her to marry him. --And then there was the charmingtale of how he had gone away upon a mission of state, and had writtenlong messages full of tender protestations, and given them to anewspaper correspondent to cable home "to his wife. " The correspondenthad thought it such a touching example of conjugal devotion that hetold about it at a dinner-party when he came back; and he was struck bythe sudden silence that fell. "The messages had been sent to a codeaddress!" chuckled the Major. "And every one at the table knew who hadgot them!"

A few days after this, Montague received a telephone message fromSiegfried Harvey, who said that he wanted to see him about a matter ofbusiness. He asked him to lunch at the Noonday Club; and Montaguewent--though not without a qualm. For it was in the Fidelity Building, the enemy's bailiwick: a magnificent structure with halls of whitemarble, and a lavish display of bronze. It occurred to Montague thatsomewhere in this structure people were at work preparing an answer tohis charges; he wondered what they were saying. 

The two had lunch, talking meanwhile about the coming events inSociety, and about politics and wars; and when the coffee was servedand they were alone in the room, Harvey settled his big frame back inhis chair, and began:--

"In the first place, " he said, "I must explain that I've something tosay that is devilish hard to get into. I'm so much afraid of yourjumping to a wrong conclusion in the middle of it--I'd like you toagree to listen for a minute or two before you think at all. "

"All right, " said Montague, with a smile. "Fire away. "

And at once the other became grave. "You've taken a case against thiscompany, " he said. "And Ollie has talked enough to me to make meunderstand that you've done a plucky thing, and that you must beeverlastingly sick of hearing from cowardly people who want you to dropit. I'd be very sorry to be classed with them, for even a moment; andyou must understand at the outset that I haven't a particle of interestin the company, and that it wouldn't matter to me if I had. I don't tryto use my friends in business, and I don't let money count with me inmy social life. I made up my mind to take the risk of speaking to youabout this case, simply because I happen to know one or two thingsabout it that I thought you didn't know. And if that's so, you are at agreat disadvantage; but in any case, please understand that I have nomotive but friendship, and so if I am butting in, excuse me. "

When Siegfried Harvey talked, he looked straight at one with his clearblue eyes, and there was no doubting his honesty. "I am very muchobliged to you, " said Montague. "Pray tell me what you have to say. "

"All right, " said the other. "It can be done very quickly. You havetaken a case which involves a great many sacrifices upon your part. AndI wondered if it had ever occurred to you to ask whether you might notbe taken advantage of?"

"How do you mean?" asked Montague. 

"Do you know the people who are behind you?" inquired the other. "Doyou know them well enough to be sure what are their motives in thecase?"

Montague hesitated, and thought. "No, " he said, "I couldn't say that Ido. "

"Then it's just as I thought, " replied Harvey. "I've been watchingyou--you are an honest man, and you're putting yourself to no end oftrouble from the best of motives. And unless I'm mistaken, you're beingused by men who are not honest, and whom you wouldn't work with if youknew their purposes. "

"What purposes could they have?"

"There are several possibilities. In the first place, it might be a'strike' suit--somebody who is hoping to be bought off for a big price. That is what nearly every one thinks is the case. But I don't; I thinkit's more likely some one within the company who is trying to put theadministration in a hole. "

"Who could that be?" exclaimed Montague, amazed. 

"I don't know that. I'm not familiar enough with the situation in theFidelity--it's changing all the time. I simply know that there arefactions struggling for the control of it, and hating each otherfuriously, and ready to do anything in the world to cripple each other. You know that their forty millions of surplus gives an enormous power;I'd rather be able to swing forty millions in the Street than to haveten millions in my own right. And so the giants are fighting for thecontrol of those companies; and you can't tell who's in and who'sout--you can never know the real meaning of anything that happens inthe struggle. All that you can be sure of is that the game is crookedfrom end to end, and that nothing that happens in it is what itpretends to be. "

Montague listened, half dazed, and feeling as if the ground he stood onwere caving beneath his feet. 

"What do you know about those who brought you this case?" asked hiscompanion, suddenly. 

"Not much, " he said weakly. 

Harvey hesitated a moment. "Understand me, please, " he said. "I've nowish to pry into your affairs, and if you don't care to say any more, I'll understand it perfectly. But I've heard it said that the man whostarted the thing was Ellis. "

Montague, in his turn, hesitated; then he said, "That iscorrect--between you and me. "

"Very good, " said Harvey, "and that is what made me suspicious. Do youknow anything about Ellis?"

"I didn't, " said the other. "I've heard a little since. "

"I can fancy so, " said Harvey. "And I can tell you that Ellis is mixedup in life-insurance matters in all sorts of dubious ways. It seems tome that you have reason to be most careful where you follow him. "

Montague sat with his hands clenched and his brows knitted. Hisfriend's talk had been like a flash of lightning; it revealed hugemenacing forms in the darkness about him. All the structure of hishopes seemed to be tottering; his case, that he had worked so hardover--his fifty thousand dollars that he had been so proud of! Could itbe that he had been tricked, and had made a fool of himself?

"How in the world am I to know?" he cried. 

"That is more than I can tell, " said his friend. "And for that matter, I'm not sure that you could do anything now. All that I could do was towarn you what sort of ground you were treading on, so that you couldwatch out for yourself in future. "

Montague thanked him heartily for that service; and then he went backto his office, and spent the rest of the day pondering the matter. 

What he had heard had made a vast change in things. Before iteverything had seemed simple; and now nothing was clear. He wasoverwhelmed with a sense of the utter futility of his efforts; he wastrying to build a house upon quicksands. There was nowhere a solid spotupon which he could set his foot. There was nowhere any truth--therewere only contending powers who used the phrases of truth for their ownpurposes! And now he saw himself as the world saw him, --a party to apiece of trickery, --a knave like all the rest. He felt that he had beentripped up at the first step in his career. 

The conclusion of the whole matter was that he took an afternoon trainfor Albany; and the next morning he talked the matter out with theJudge. Montague had realized the need of going slowly, for, after all, he had no definite ground for suspicion; and so, very tactfully andcautiously he explained, that it had come to his ears that many peoplebelieved there were interested parties behind the suit of Mr. Hasbrook;and that this had made him uncomfortable, as he knew nothing whateverabout his client. He had come to ask the Judge's advice in the matter. 

No one could have taken the thing more graciously than did the greatman; he was all kindness and tact. In the first place, he said, he hadwarned him in advance that enemies would attack him and slander him, and that all kinds of subtle means would be used to influence him. Andhe must understand that these rumours were part of such a campaign; itmade no difference how good a friend had brought them to him--how couldhe know who had brought them to that friend?

The Judge ventured to hope that nothing that anyone might say couldinfluence him to believe that he, the Judge, would have advised him todo anything improper. 

"No, " said Montague, "but can you assure me that there are nointerested parties behind Mr. Hasbrook?"

"Interested parties?" asked the other. 

"I mean people connected with the Fidelity or other insurancecompanies. "

"Why, no, " said the Judge; "I certainly couldn't assure you of that. "

Montague looked surprised. "You mean you don't know?"

"I mean, " was the answer, "that I wouldn't feel at liberty to tell, even if I did know. "

And Montague stared at him; he had not been prepared for this frankness. 

"It never occurred to me, " the other continued, "that that was a matterwhich could make any difference to you. "

"Why--" began Montague. 

"Pray understand me, Mr. Montague, " said the Judge. "It seemed to methat this was obviously a just case, and it seemed so to you. And theonly other matter that I thought you had a right to be assured of wasthat it was seriously meant. Of that I felt assured. It did not seem tome of any importance that there might be interested individuals behindMr. Hasbrook. Let us suppose, for instance, that there were someparties who had been offended by the administration of the Fidelity, and were anxious to punish it. Could a lawyer be justified in refusingto take a just case, simply because he knew of such private motives?Or, let us assume an extreme case--a factional fight within thecompany, as you say has been suggested to you. Well, that would be acase of thieves falling out; and is there any reason why the publicshould not reap the advantage of such a situation? The men inside thecompany are the ones who would know first what is going on; and if yousaw a chance to use such an advantage in a just fight--would you not doit?"

So the Judge went on, gracious and plausible--and so subtly andexquisitely corrupting! Underneath his smoothly flowing sentencesMontague could feel the presence of one fundamental thought; it wasunuttered and even unhinted, but it pervaded the Judge's discourse as amood pervades a melody. The young lawyer had got a big fee, and he hada nice easy case; and as a man of the world, he could not really wishto pry into it too closely. He had heard gossip, and felt that hisreputation required him to be disturbed; but he had come, simply to besmoothed down the back and made at ease, and enabled to keep his feewithout losing his good opinion of himself. 

Montague quit, because he concluded that it was not worth while to tryto make himself understood. After all, he was in the case now, andthere was nothing to be gained by a breach. Two things he felt that hehad made certain by the interview--first, that his client was a"dummy, " and that it was really a case of thieves falling out; andsecond, that he had no guarantee that he might not be left in the lurchat any moment--except the touching confidence of the Judge in someparties unknown. 

CHAPTER XIX

Montague came home with his mind made up that there was nothing hecould do except to be more careful next time. For this mistake he wouldhave to pay the price. 

He had still to learn what the full price was. The day after his returnthere came a caller--Mr. John C. Burton, read his card. He proved to bea canvassing agent for the company which published the scandal-sheet ofSociety. They were preparing a de luxe account of the prominentfamilies of New York; a very sumptuous affair, with a highly exclusiveset of subscribers, at the rate of fifteen hundred dollars per set. Would Mr. Montague by any chance care to have his family included?

And Mr. Montague explained politely that he was a comparative strangerin New York, and would not belong properly in such a volume. But theagent was not satisfied with this. There might be reasons for hissubscribing, even so; there might be special cases; Mr. Montague, as astranger, might not realize the important nature of the offer; after hehad consulted his friends, he might change his mind--and so on. AsMontague listened to this series of broad hints, and took in themeaning of them, the colour mounted, to his cheeks--until at last herose abruptly and bid the man good afternoon. 

But then as he sat alone, his anger died away, and there was left onlydiscomfort and uneasiness. And three or four days later he boughtanother issue of the paper, and sure enough, there was a new paragraph!

He stood on the street-corner reading it. The social war was raginghotly, it said; and added that Mrs. De Graffenried was threatening totake up the cause of the strangers. Then it went on to picture acertain exquisite young man of fashion who was rushing about among hisfriends to apologize for his brother's indiscretions. Also, it said, there was a brilliant social queen, wife of a great banker, who hadtaken up the cudgels. --And then came three sentences more, which madethe blood leap like flame into Montague's cheeks:

"There have not been lacking comments upon her suspicious ardour. Ithas been noticed that since the advent of the romantic-lookingSoutherner, this restless lady's interest in the Babists and the trancemediums has waned; and now Society is watching for the denouement of amost interesting situation. "

To Montague these words came like a blow in the face. He went on downthe street, half dazed. It seemed to him the blackest shame that NewYork had yet shown him. He clenched his fists as he walked, whisperingto himself, "The scoundrels!"

He realized instantly that he was helpless. Down home one would havethrashed the editor of such a paper; but here he was in the wolves' owncountry, and he could do nothing. He went back to his office, and satdown at the desk. 

"My dear Mrs. Winnie, " he wrote. "I have just read the enclosedparagraph, and I cannot tell you how profoundly pained I am that yourkindness to us should have made you the victim of such an outrage. I amquite helpless in the matter, except to enable you to avoid any furtherannoyance. Please believe me when I say that we shall all of usunderstand perfectly if you think that we had best not meet again atpresent; and that this will make no difference whatever in ourfeelings. "

This letter Montague sent by a messenger; and then he went home. Perhaps ten minutes after he arrived, the telephone bell rang--andthere was Mrs. Winnie. 

"Your note has come, " she said. "Have you an engagement this evening?"

"No, " he answered. 

"Well, " she said, "will you come to dinner?"

"Mrs. Winnie--" he protested. 

"Please come, " she said. "Please!"

"I hate to have you--" he began. 

"I wish you to come!" she said, a third time. 

So he answered, "Very well. "

He went; and when he entered the house, the butler led him to theelevator, saying, "Mrs. Duval says will you please come upstairs, sir. "And there Mrs. Winnie met him, with flushed cheeks and eagercountenance. 

She was even lovelier than usual, in a soft cream-coloured gown, and acrimson rose in her bosom. "I'm all alone to-night, " she said, "sowe'll dine in my apartments. We'd be lost in that big room downstairs. "

She led him into her drawing-room, where great armfuls of new rosesscattered their perfume. There was a table set for two, and two bigchairs before the fire which blazed in the hearth. Montague noticedthat her hand trembled a little, as she motioned him to one of them; hecould read her excitement in her whole aspect. She was flinging downthe gauntlet to her enemies!

"Let us eat first and talk afterward, " she said, hurriedly. "We'll behappy for a while, anyway. "

And she went on to be happy, in her nervous and eager way. She talkedabout the new opera which was to be given, and about Mrs. DeGraffenried's new entertainment, and about Mrs. Ridgley-Clieveden'sball; also about the hospital for crippled children which she wanted tobuild, and about Mrs. Vivie Patton's rumoured divorce. And, meantime, the sphinx-like attendants moved here and there, and the dinner cameand went. They took their coffee in the big chairs by the fire; and thetable was swept clear, and the servants vanished, closing the doorsbehind them. 

Then Montague set his cup aside, and sat gazing sombrely into the fire. And Mrs. Winnie watched him. There was a long silence. 

Suddenly he heard her voice. "Do you find it so easy to give up ourfriendship?" she asked. 

"I didn't think about it's being easy or hard, " he answered. "I simplythought of protecting you. "

"And do you think that my friends are nothing to me?" she demanded. "Have I so very many as that?" And she clenched her hands with a suddenpassionate gesture. "Do you think that I will let those wretchesfrighten me into doing what they want? I'll not give in to them--notfor anything that Lelia can do!"

A look of perplexity crossed Montague's face. "Lelia?" he asked. 

"Mrs. Robbie Walling!" she cried. "Don't you suppose that she isresponsible for that paragraph?"

Montague started. 

"That's the way they fight their battles!" cried Mrs. Winnie. "They paymoney to those scoundrels to be protected. And then they send nastygossip about people they wish to injure. "

"You don't mean that!" exclaimed the man. 

"Of course I do, " cried she. "I know that it's true! I know that RobbieWalling paid fifteen thousand dollars for some trumpery volumes thatthey got out! And how do you suppose the paper gets its gossip?"

"I didn't know, " said Montague. "But I never dreamed--"

"Why, " exclaimed Mrs. Winnie, "their mail is full of blue and goldmonogram stationery! I've known guests to sit down and write gossipabout their hostesses in their own homes. Oh, you've no idea ofpeople's vileness!"

"I had some idea, " said Montague, after a pause. --"That was why Iwished to protect you. "

"I don't wish to be protected!" she cried, vehemently. "I'll not givethem the satisfaction. They wish to make me give you up, and I'll notdo it, for anything they can say!"

Montague sat with knitted brows, gazing into the fire. "When I readthat paragraph, " he said slowly. "I could not bear to think of theunhappiness it might cause you. I thought of how much it might disturbyour husband--"

"My husband!" echoed Mrs. Winnie. 

There was a hard tone in her voice, as she went on. "He will fix it upwith them, " she said, --"that's his way. There will be nothing morepublished, you can feel sure of that. "

Montague sat in silence. That was not the reply he had expected, and itrather disconcerted him. 

"If that were all--" he said, with hesitation. "But I could not know. Ithought that the paragraph might disturb him for another reason--thatit might be a cause of unhappiness between you and him--"

There was a pause. "You don't understand, " said Mrs. Winnie, at last. 

Without turning his head he could see her hands, as they lay upon herknees. She was moving them nervously. "You don't understand, " sherepeated. 

When she began to' speak again, it was in a low, trembling voice. "Imust tell you, " she said; "I have felt sure that you did not know. "

There was another pause. She hesitated, and her hands trembled; thensuddenly she hurried on. --"I wanted you to know. I do not love myhusband. I am not bound to him. He has nothing to say in my affairs. "

Montague sat rigid, turned to stone. He was half dazed by the words. Hecould feel Mrs. Winnie's gaze fixed upon him; and he could feel the hotflush that spread over her throat and cheeks. 

"It--it was not fair for you not to know, " she whispered. And her voicedied away, and there was again a silence. Montague was dumb. 

"Why don't you say something?" she panted, at last; and he caught thenote of anguish in her voice. Then he turned and stared at her, and sawher tightly clenched hands, and the quivering of her lips. 

He was shocked quite beyond speech. And he saw her bosom heavingquickly, and saw the tears start into her eyes. Suddenly she sank down, and covered her face with her hands and broke into frantic sobbing. 

"Mrs. Winnie!" he cried; and started to his feet. 

Her outburst continued. He saw that she was shuddering violently. "Thenyou don't love me!" she wailed. 

He stood trembling and utterly bewildered. "I'm so sorry!" hewhispered. "Oh, Mrs. Winnie--I had no idea--"

"I know it! I know it!" she cried. "It's my fault! I was a fool! I knewit all the time. But I hoped--I thought you might, if you knew--"

And then again her tears choked her; she was convulsed with pain andgrief. 

Montague stood watching her, helpless with distress. She caught hold ofthe arm of the chair, convulsively, and he put his hand upon hers. 

"Mrs. Winnie--" he began. 

But she jerked her hand away and hid it. "No, no!" she cried, interror. "Don't touch me!"

And suddenly she looked up at him, stretching out her arms. "Don't youunderstand that I love you?" she exclaimed. "You despise me for it, Iknow--but I can't help it. I will tell you, even so! It's the onlysatisfaction I can have. I have always loved you! And I thought--Ithought it was only that you didn't understand. I was ready to braveall the world--I didn't care who knew it, or what anybody said. Ithought we could be happy--I thought I could be free at last. Oh, you've no idea how unhappy I am--and how lonely--and how I longed toescape! And I believed that you--that you might--"

And then the tears gushed into Mrs. Winnie's eyes again, and her voicebecame the voice of a little child. 

"Don't you think that you might come to love me?" she wailed. 

Her voice shook Montague, so that he trembled to the depths of him. Buthis face only became the more grave. 

"You despise me because I told you!" she exclaimed. 

"No, no, Mrs. Winnie, " he said. "I could not possibly do that--"

"Then--then why--" she whispered. --"Would it be so hard to love me?"

"It would be very easy, " he said, "but I dare not let myself. "

She looked at him piteously. "You are so cold--so merciless!" she cried. 

He answered nothing, and she sat trembling. "Have you ever loved awoman?" she asked. 

There was a long pause. He sat in the chair again. "Listen, Mrs. Winnie"--he began at last. 

"Don't call me that!" she exclaimed. "Call me Evelyn--please. "

"Very well, " he said--"Evelyn. I did not intend to make you unhappy--ifI had had any idea, I should never have seen you again. I will tellyou--what I have never told anybody before. Then you will understand. "

He sat for a few moments, in a sombre reverie. 

"Once, " he said, "when I was young, I loved a woman--a quadroon girl. That was in New Orleans; it is a custom we have there. They have aworld of their own, and we take care of them, and of the children; andevery one knows about it. I was very young, only about eighteen; andshe was even younger. But I found out then what women are, and whatlove means to them. I saw how they could suffer. And then she died inchildbirth--the child died, too. "

Montague's voice was very low; and Mrs. Winnie sat with her handsclasped, and her eyes riveted upon his face. "I saw her die, " he said. "And that was all. I have never forgotten it. I made up my mind thenthat I had done wrong; and that never again while I lived would I offermy love to a woman, unless I could devote all my life to her. So yousee, I am afraid of love. I do not wish to suffer so much, or to makeothers suffer. And when anyone speaks to me as you did, it brings itall back to me--it makes me shrink up and wither. "

He paused, and the other caught her breath. 

"Understand me, " she said, her voice trembling. "I would not ask anypledges of you. I would pay whatever price there was to pay--I am notafraid to suffer. "

"I do not wish you to suffer, " he said. "I do not wish to takeadvantage of any woman. "

"But I have nothing in the world that I value!" she cried. "I would goaway--I would give up everything, to be with a man like you. I have noties--no duties--"

He interrupted her. "You have your husband--" he said. 

And she cried out in sudden fury--"My husband!"

"Has no one ever told you about my husband?" she asked, after a pause. 

"No one, " he said. 

"Well, ask them!" she exclaimed. "Meantime, take my word for it--I owenothing to my husband. "

Montague sat staring into the fire. "But consider my own case, " hesaid. "_I_ have duties--my mother and my cousin--"

"Oh, don't say any more!" cried the woman, with a break in her voice. "Say that you don't love me--that is all there is to say! And you willnever respect me again! I have been a fool--I have ruined everything! Ihave flung away your friendship, that I might have kept!"

"No, " he said. 

But she rushed on, vehemently--"At least, I have been honest--give mecredit for that! That is how all my troubles come--I say what is in mymind, and I pay the price for my blunders. It is not as if I were coldand calculating--so don't despise me altogether. "

"I couldn't despise you, " said Montague. "I am simply pained, because Ihave made you unhappy. And I did not mean to. "

Mrs. Winnie sat staring ahead of her in a sombre reverie. "Don't thinkany more about it, " she said, bitterly. "I will get over it. I am notworth troubling about. Don't you suppose I know how you feel about thisworld that I live in? And I'm part of it--I beat my wings, and try toget out, but I can't. I'm in it, and I'll stay in till I die; I mightas well give up. I thought that I could steal a little joy--you have noidea how hungry I am for a little joy! You have no idea how lonely Iam! And how empty my life is! You talk about your fear of making meunhappy; it's a grim jest--but I'll give you permission, if you can!I'll ask nothing--no promises, no sacrifices! I'll take all the risks, and pay all the penalties!"

She smiled through her tears, a sardonic smile. He was watching her, and she turned again, and their eyes met; again he saw the blood mountfrom her throat to her cheeks. At the same time came the old stirringof the wild beasts within him. He knew that the less time he spent insympathizing with Mrs. Winnie, the better for both of them. 

He had started to rise, and words of farewell were on his lips; whensuddenly there came a knock upon the door. 

Mrs. Winnie sprang to her feet. "Who is that?" she cried. 

And the door opened, and Mr. Duval entered. 

"Good evening, " he said pleasantly, and came toward her. 

Mrs. Winnie flushed angrily, and stared at him. "Why do you come hereunannounced?" she cried. 

"I apologize, " he said--"but I found this in my mail--"

And Montague, in the act of rising to greet him, saw that he had theoffensive clipping in his hand. Then he saw Duval give a start, andrealized that the man had not been aware of his presence in the room. 

Duval gazed from Montague to his wife, and noticed for the first timeher tears, and her agitation. "I beg pardon, " he said. "I am evidentlytrespassing. "

"You most certainly are, " responded Mrs. Winnie. 

He made a move to withdraw; but before he could take a step, she hadbrushed past him and left the room, slamming the door behind her. 

And Duval stared after her, and then he stared at Montague, andlaughed. "Well! well! well!" he said. 

Then, checking his amusement, he added, "Good evening, sir. "

"Good evening, " said Montague. 

He was trembling slightly, and Duval noticed it; he smiled genially. "This is the sort of material out of which scenes are made, " said he. "But I beg you not to be embarrassed--we won't have any scenes. "

Montague could think of nothing to say to that. 

"I owe Evelyn an apology, " the other continued. "It was entirely anaccident--this clipping, you see. I do not intrude, as a rule. You maymake yourself at home in future. "

Montague flushed scarlet at the words. 

"Mr. Duval, " he said, "I have to assure you that you are mistaken--"

The other stared at him. "Oh, come, come!" he said, laughing. "Let ustalk as men of the world. "

"I say that you are mistaken, " said Montague again. 

The other shrugged his shoulders. "Very well, " he said genially. "Asyou please. I simply wish to make matters clear to you, that's all. Iwish you joy with Evelyn. I say nothing about her--you love her. Suffice it that I've had her, and I'm tired of her; the field is yours. But keep her out of mischief, and don't let her make a fool of herselfin public, if you can help it. And don't let her spend too muchmoney--she costs me a million a year already. --Good evening, Mr. Montague. "

And he went out. Montague, who stood like a statue, could hear himchuckling all the way down the hall. 

At last Montague himself started to leave. But he heard Mrs. Winniecoming back, and he waited for her. She came in and shut the door, andturned toward him. 

"What did he say?" she asked. 

"He--was very pleasant, " said Montague. 

And she smiled grimly. "I went out on purpose, " she said. "I wanted youto see him--to see what sort of a man he is, and how much 'duty' I owehim! You saw, I guess. "

"Yes, I saw, " said he. 

Then again he started to go. But she took him by the arm. "Come andtalk to me, " she said. "Please!"

And she led him back to the fire. "Listen, " she said. "He will not comehere again. He is going away to-night--I thought he had gone already. And he does not return for a month or two. There will be no one todisturb us again. "

She came close to him and gazed up into his face. She had wiped hertears away, and her happy look had come back to her; she was lovelierthan ever. 

"I took you by surprise, " she said, smiling. "You didn't know what tomake of it. And I was ashamed--I thought you would hate me. But I'm notgoing to be unhappy any more--I don't care at all. I'm glad that Ispoke!"

And Mrs. Winnie put up her hands and took him by the lapels of hiscoat. "I know that you love me, " she said; "I saw it in your eyes justnow, before he came in: It is simply that you won't let yourself go. You have so many doubts and so many fears. But you will see that I amright; you will learn to love me. You won't be able to help it--I shallbe so kind and good! Only don't go away--"

Mrs. Winnie was so close to him that her breath touched his cheek. "Promise me, dear, " she whispered--"promise me that you won't stopseeing me--that you will learn to love me. I can't do without you!"

Montague was trembling in every nerve; he felt like a man caught in anet. Mrs. Winnie had had everything she ever wanted in her life; andnow she wanted him! It was impossible for her to face any other thought. 

"Listen, " he began gently. 

But she saw the look of resistance in his eyes, and she cried "Nono--don't! I cannot do without you! Think! I love you! What more can Isay to you? I cannot believe that you don't care for me--you HAVE beenfond of me--I have seen it in your face. Yet you're afraid of me--why?Look at me--am I not beautiful to look at! And is a woman's love such alittle thing--can you fling it away and trample upon it so easily? Whydo you wish to go? Don't you understand--no one knows we are here--noone cares! You can come here whenever you wish--this is my place--mine!And no one will think anything about it. They all do it. There isnothing to be afraid of!"

She put her arms about him, and clung to him so that he could feel thebeating of her heart upon his bosom. "Oh, don't leave me here aloneto-night!" she cried. 

To Montague it was like the ringing of an alarm-bell deep within hissoul. "I must go, " he said. 

She flung back her head and stared at him, and he saw the terror andanguish in her eyes. "No, no!" she cried, "don't say that to me! Ican't bear it--oh, see what I have done! Look at me! Have mercy on me!"

"Mrs. Winnie, " he said, "you must have mercy on ME!"

But he only felt her clasp him more tightly. He took her by the wrists, and with quiet force he broke her hold upon him; her hands fell to hersides, and she stared at him, aghast. 

"I must go, " he said, again. 

And he started toward the door. She followed him dumbly with her eyes. 

"Good-bye, " he said. He knew that there was no use of any more words;his sympathy had been like oil upon flames. He saw her move, and as heopened the door, she flung herself down in a chair and burst intofrantic weeping. He shut the door softly and went away. 

He found his way down the stairs, and got his hat and coat, and wentout, unseen by anyone. He walked down the Avenue-and there suddenly wasthe giant bulk of St. Cecilia's lifting itself into the sky. He stoppedand looked at it--it seemed a great tumultuous surge of emotion. Andfor the first time in his life it seemed to him that he understood whymen had put together that towering heap of stone!

Then he went on home. 

He found Alice dressing for a ball, and Oliver waiting for her. He wentto his room, and took off his coat; and Oliver came up to him, and witha sudden gesture reached over to his shoulder, and held up a trophy. 

He drew it out carefully, and measured the length of it, smilingmischievously in the meanwhile. Then he held it up to the light, to seethe colour of it. 

"A black one!" he cried. "Coal black!" And he looked at his brother, with a merry twinkle in his eyes. "Oh, Allan!" he chuckled. 

Montague said nothing. 

CHAPTER XX

It was about a week from the beginning of Lent, when there would be alull in the city's gaieties, and Society would shift the scene of itsactivities to the country clubs, and to California and Hot Springs andPalm Beach. Mrs. Caroline Smythe invited Alice to join her in anexpedition to the last-named place; but Montague interposed, because hesaw that Alice had been made pale and nervous by three months ofnight-and-day festivities. Also, a trip to Florida would necessitateten or fifteen thousand dollars' worth of new clothes; and these wouldnot do for the summer, it appeared--they would be faded and passe bythat time. 

So Alice settled back to rest; but she was too popular to be letalone--a few days later came another invitation, this time from GeneralPrentice and his family. They were planning a railroad trip--to be gonefor a month; they would have a private train, and twenty five people inthe party, and would take in California and Mexico--"swinging round thecircle, " as it was called. Alice was wild to go, and Montague gave hisconsent. Afterward he learned to his dismay that Charlie Carter was oneof those invited, and he would have liked to have Alice withdraw; butshe did not wish to, and he could not make up his mind to insist. 

These train trips were the very latest diversion of the well-to-do; ayear ago no one had heard of them, and now fifty parties were leavingNew York every month. You might see a dozen of such hotel-trains atonce at Palm Beach; there were some people who lived on board all thetime, having special tracks built for them in pleasant locationswherever they stopped. One man had built a huge automobile railroadcar, shaped like a ram, and having accommodation for sixty people. ThePrentice train had four cars, one of them a "library car, " finished inSt. Iago mahogany, and provided with a pipe-organ. Also there werebath-rooms and a barber-shop, and a baggage car with two autos on boardfor exploring purposes. 

Since the episode of Mrs. Winnie, Oliver had apparently concluded thathis brother was one of the initiated. Not long afterward he permittedhim to a glimpse into that side of his life which had been hinted at inthe songs at the bachelors' dinner. 

Oliver had planned to take Betty Wyman to the theatre; but Betty'sgrandfather had come home from the West unexpectedly, and so Olivercame round and took his brother instead. 

"I was going to play a joke on her, " he said. "We'll go to see one ofmy old flames. "

It was a translation of a French farce, in which the maritalinfidelities of two young couples were the occasion of many mishaps. One of the characters was a waiting-maid, who was in love with ahandsome young soldier, and was pursued by the husband of one of thecouples. It was a minor part, but the young Jewish girl who played ithad so many pretty graces and such a merry laugh that she made it quiteconspicuous. When the act was over, Oliver asked him whose acting heliked best, and he named her. 

"Come and be introduced to her, " Oliver said. 

He opened a door near their box. "How do you do, Mr. Wilson, " he said, nodding to a man in evening dress, who stood near by. Then he turnedtoward the dressing-rooms, and went down a corridor, and knocked uponone of the doors. A voice called, "Come in, " and he opened the door;and there was a tiny room, with odds and ends of clothing scatteredabout, and the girl, clad in corsets and underskirt, sitting before amirror. "Hello, Rosalie, " said he. 

And she dropped her powder-puff, and sprang up with a cry--"Ollie!" 'Ina moment more she had her arms about his neck. 

"Oh, you wretched man, " she cried. "Why don't you come to see me anymore? Didn't you get my letters?"

"I got some, " said he. "But I've been busy. This is my brother, Mr. Allan Montague. "

The other nodded to Montague, and said, "How do you do?"--but withoutletting go of Oliver. "Why don't you come to see me?" she exclaimed. 

"There, there, now!" said Oliver, laughing good-naturedly. "I broughtmy brother along so that you'd have to behave yourself. "

"I don't care about your brother!" exclaimed the girl, without evengiving him another glance. Then she held Oliver at arm's length, andgazed into his face. "How can you be so cruel to me?" she asked. 

"I told you I was busy, " said he, cheerfully. "And I gave you fairwarning, didn't I? How's Toodles?"

"Oh, Toodles is in raptures, " said Rosalie. "She's got a new fellow. "And then, her manner changing to one of merriment, she added: "Oh, Ollie! He gave her a diamond brooch! And she looks like acountess--she's hoping for a chance to wear it in a part!"

"You've seen Toodles, " said Oliver, to his brother "She's in 'TheKaliph of Kamskatka. '". 

"They're going on the road next week, " said Rosalie. "And then I'll beall alone. " She added, in a pleading voice: "Do, Ollie, be a good boyand take us out to-night. Think how long it's been since I've seen you!Why, I've been so good I don't know myself in the looking-glass. Please, Ollie!"

"All right, " said he, "maybe I will. "

"I'm not going to let you get away from me, " she cried. "I'll comeright over the footlights after you!"

"You'd better get dressed, " said Oliver. "You'll be late. "

He pushed aside a tray with some glasses on it, and seated himself upona trunk; and Montague stood in a corner and watched Rosalie, while shepowdered and painted herself, and put on an airy summer dress, andpoured out a flood of gossip about "Toodles" and "Flossie" and "Grace"and some others. A few minutes later came a stentorian voice in thehallway: "Second act!" There were more embraces, and then Ollie brushedthe powder from his coat, and went away laughing. 

Montague stood for a few moments in the wings, watching thescene-shifters putting the final touches to the new set, and thevarious characters taking their positions. Then they went out to theirseats. "Isn't she a jewel?" asked Oliver. 

"She's very pretty, " the other admitted. 

"She came right out of the slums, " said Oliver--"over on RivingtonStreet. That don't happen very often. "

"How did you come to know her?" asked his brother. 

"Oh, I picked her out. She was in a chorus, then. I got her firstspeaking part. "

"Did you?" said the other, in surprise. "How did you do that?"

"Oh, a little money, " was the reply. "Money will do most anything. AndI was in love with her--that's how I got her. "

Montague said nothing, but sat in thought. 

"We'll take her out to supper and make her happy, " added Oliver, as thecurtain started up. "She's lonesome, I guess. You see, I promised BettyI'd reform. "

All through that scene and the next one Rosalie acted for them; she wasso full of verve and merriment that there was quite a stir in theaudience, and she got several rounds of applause. Then, when the playwas over, she extricated herself from the arms of the handsome youngsoldier, and fled to her dressing-room, and when Oliver and Montaguearrived, she was half ready for the street. 

They went up Broadway, and from a group of people coming out of anotherstage-entrance a young girl came to join them--an airy little creaturewith the face of a doll-baby, and a big hat with a purple feather ontop. This was "Toodles"--otherwise known as Helen Gwynne; and she tookMontague's arm, and they fell in behind Oliver and his companion. 

Montague wondered what one said to a chorus-girl on the way to supper. Afterward his brother told him that Toodles had been the wife of areal-estate agent in a little town in Oklahoma, and had run away fromrespectability and boredom with a travelling theatrical company. Nowshe was tripping her part in the musical comedy which Montague had seenat Mrs. Lane's; and incidentally swearing devotion to a handsome young"wine-agent. " She confided to Montague that she hoped the latter mightsee her that evening--he needed to be made jealous. 

"The Great White Way" was the name which people had given to this partof Broadway; and at the head of it stood a huge hotel with flaminglights, and gorgeous marble and bronze, and famous paintings upon thewalls and ceilings inside. At this hour every one of its manydining-rooms was thronged with supper-parties, and the place rang withlaughter and the rattle of dishes, and the strains of severalorchestras which toiled heroically in the midst of the uproar. Herethey found a table, and while Oliver was ordering frozen poached eggsand quails in aspic, Montague sat and gazed about him at the revelry, and listened to the prattle of the little ex-sempstress from RivingtonStreet. 

His brother had "got her, " he said, by buying a speaking part in a playfor her; and Montague recalled the orgies of which he had heard at thebachelors' dinner, and divined that here he was at the source of thestream from which they were fed. At the table next to them was a youngHebrew, whom Toodles pointed out as the son and heir of a greatclothing manufacturer. He was "keeping" several girls, said she; andthe queenly creature who was his vis-a-vis was one of the chorus in"The Maids of Mandalay. " And a little way farther down the room was aboy with the face of an angel and the air of a prince of the blood--hehad inherited a million and run away from school, and was making a namefor himself in the Tenderloin. The pretty little girl all in green whowas with him was Violet Pane, who was the artist's model in a new playthat had made a hit. She had had a full-page picture of herself in theSunday supplement of the "sporting paper" which was read here--soRosalie remarked. 

"Why don't you ever do that for me?" she added, to Oliver. 

"Perhaps I will, " said he, with a laugh. "What does it cost?"

And when he learned that the honour could be purchased for only fifteenhundred dollars, he said, "I'll do it, if you'll be good. " And fromthat time on the last trace of worriment vanished from the face and theconversation of Rosalie. 

As the champagne cocktails disappeared, she and Oliver becameconfidential. Then Montague turned to Toodles, to learn more about howthe "second generation" was preying upon the women of the stage. 

"A chorus-girl got from ten to twenty dollars a week, " said Toodles;and that was hardly enough to pay for her clothes. Her work was veryuncertain--she would spend weeks at rehearsal, and then if the playfailed, she would get nothing. It was a dog's life; and the keys offreedom and opportunity were in the keeping of rich men, who hauntedthe theatres and laid siege to the girls. They would send in notes tothem, or fling bouquets to them, with cards, or perhaps money, hiddenin them. There were millionaire artists and bohemians who kept astanding order for seats in the front rows at opening performances;they had accounts with florists and liverymen and confectioners, andgave carte blanche to scores of girls who lent themselves to theirpurposes. Sometimes they were in league with the managers, and a girlwho held back would find her chances imperilled; sometimes these menwould even finance shows to give a chance to some favourite. 

Afterward Toodles turned to listen to Oliver and his companion; andMontague sat back and gazed about the room. Next to him was a longtable with a dozen, people at it; and he watched the buckets ofchampagne and the endless succession of fantastic-looking dishes offood, and the revellers, with their flushed faces and feverish eyes andloud laughter. Above all the tumult was the voice of the orchestra, calling, calling, like the storm wind upon the mountains; the music waswild and chaotic, and produced an indescribable sense of pain andconfusion. When one realized that this same thing was going on inthousands of places in this district it seemed that here was a flood ofdissipation that out-rivalled even that of Society. 

It was said that the hotels of New York, placed end to end, would reachall the way to London; and they took care of a couple of hundredthousand people a day--a horde which had come from all over the worldin search of pleasure and excitement. There were sight-seers and"country customers" from forty-five states; ranchers from Texas, andlumber kings from Maine, and mining men from Nevada. At home they hadreputations, and perhaps families to consider; but once plunged intothe whirlpool of the Tenderloin, they were hidden from all the world. They came with their pockets full of money; and hotels and restaurants, gambling-places and pool-rooms and brothels--all were lying in wait forthem! So eager had the competition become that there was a tailoringestablishment and a bank that were never closed the year round, excepton Sunday. 

Everywhere about one's feet the nets of vice were spread. The headwaiter in one's hotel was a "steerer" for a "dive, " and the housedetective was "touting" for a gambling-place. The handsome woman whosmiled at one in "Peacock Alley" was a "madame"; the pleasant-facedyoung man who spoke to one at the bar was on the look-out for customersfor a brokerage-house next door. Three times in a single day in anotherof these great caravanserais Montague was offered "short change"; andso his eyes were opened to a new kind of plundering. He was struck bythe number of attendants in livery who swarmed about him, and to whomhe gave tips for their services. He did not notice that the boys in thewash-rooms and coat-rooms could not speak a word of English; he couldnot know that they were searched every night, and had everything takenfrom them, and that the Greek who hired them had paid fifteen thousanddollars a year to the hotel for the privilege. 

So far had the specialization in evil proceeded that there were placesof prostitution which did a telephone-business exclusively, and wouldsend a woman in a cab to any address; and there were high-classassignation-houses, which furnished exquisite apartments and theservices of maids and valets. And in this world of vice the moderndoctrine of the equality of the sexes was fully recognized; there weregambling-houses and pool-rooms and opium-joints for women, anddrinking-places which catered especially for them. In the "orange room"of one of the big hotels, you might see rich women of every rank andtype, fingering the dainty leather-bound and gold-embossed wine cards. In this room alone were sold over ten thousand drinks every day; andthe hotel paid a rental of a million a year to the Devon estate. Notfar away the Devons also owned negro-dives, where, in the early hoursof the morning, you might see richly-gowned white women drinking. 

In this seething caldron of graft there were many strange ways ofmaking money, and many strange and incredible types of human beings tobe met. Once, in "Society, " Montague had pointed out to him a woman whohad been a "tattooed lady" in a circus; there was another who had beena confederate of gamblers upon the ocean steamships, and another whohad washed dishes in a mining-camp. There was one of these great hotelswhose proprietor had been a successful burglar; and a department-storewhose owner had begun life as a "fence. " In any crowd of theserevellers you might have such strange creatures pointed out to you; amultimillionaire who sold rotten jam to the people; another who hadinvented opium soothing-syrup for babies; a convivial old gentleman whodisbursed the "yellow dog fund" of several railroads; a handsomechauffeur who had run away with an heiress. 'Once a great scientist hadinvented a new kind of underwear, and had endeavoured to make it a giftto humanity; and here was a man who had seized upon it and mademillions out of it! Here was a "trance medium, " who had got a fortuneout of an imbecile old manufacturer; here was a great newspaperproprietor, who published advertisements of assignations at a dollar aline; here was a cigar manufacturer, whose smug face was upon everybillboard--he had begun as a tin manufacturer, and to avoid the duty, he had had his raw material cast in the form of statues, and broughtthem in as works of art!

And terrible and vile as were the sources from which the fortunes hadbeen derived, they were no viler nor more terrible than the purposesfor which they had been spent. Mrs. Vivie Patton had hinted to Montagueof a "Decameron Club, " whose members gathered in each others' homes andvied in the telling of obscene stories; Strathcona had told him aboutanother set of exquisite ladies and gentlemen who gave elaborateentertainments, in which they dressed in the costumes of bygoneperiods, and imitated famous characters in history, and the vices andorgies of courts and camps. One heard of "Cleopatra nights" on board ofyachts at Newport. There was a certain Wall Street "plunger, " who hadbegun life as a mining man in the West; and when his customers came intown, he would hire a trolley-car, and take a load of champagne andhalf a dozen prostitutes, and spend the night careering about thecountry. This man was now quartered in one of the great hotels in NewYork; and in his apartments he would have prize fights and chickenfights; and bloodthirsty exhibitions called "purring matches, " in whichmen tried to bark each other's shins; or perhaps a "battle royal, " witha diamond scarf-pin dangling from the ceiling, and half a dozen negroesin a free-for-all fight for the prize. 

No picture of the ways of the Metropolis would be complete which didnot force upon the reluctant reader some realization of the extent towhich new and hideous incitements to vice were spreading. To say thatamong the leisured classes such practices were raging like a pestilencewould be no exaggeration. Ten years ago they were regarded withaversion by even the professionally vicious; but now the commonestprostitute accepted them as part of her fate. And there was no heightto which they had not reached--ministers of state were enslaved bythem; great fortunes and public events were controlled by them. InWashington there had been an ambassador whose natural daughter taughtthem in the houses of the great, until the scandal forced theminister's recall. Some of these practices were terrible in theireffects, completely wrecking the victim in a short time; and physicianswho studied their symptoms would be horrified to see them appearing inthe homes of their friends. 

And from New York, the centre of the wealth and culture of the country, these vices spread to every corner of it. Theatrical companies andtravelling salesmen carried them; visiting merchants and sightseersacquired them. Pack-pedlers sold vile pictures and books--themanufacturing or importing of which was now quite an industry; onemight read catalogues printed abroad in English, the contents of whichwould make one's flesh creep. There were cheap weeklies, costing tencents a year, which were thrust into area-windows for servant-girls;there were yellow-covered French novels of unbelievable depravity forthe mistress of the house. It was a curious commentary upon the moralsof Society that upon the trains running to a certain suburban communityfrequented by the ultra-fashionable, the newsboys did a thrivingbusiness in such literature; and when the pastor of the fashionablechurch eloped with a Society girl, the bishop publicly laid the blameto the morals of his parishioners!

The theory was that there were two worlds, and that they were keptrigidly separate. There were two sets of women; one to be toyed withand flung aside, and the other to be protected and esteemed. Suchthings as prostitutes and kept women might exist, but people ofrefinement did not talk about them, and were not concerned with them. But Montague was familiar with the saying, that if you follow the chainof the slave, you will find the other end about the wrist of themaster; and he discovered that the Tenderloin was wreaking itsvengeance upon Fifth Avenue. It was not merely that the men of wealthwere carrying to their wives and children the diseases of vice; theywere carrying also the manners and the ideals. 

Montague had been amazed by the things he had found in New YorkSociety; the smoking and drinking and gambling of women, their hard andcynical views of life, their continual telling of coarse stories. Andhere, in this under-world, he had come upon the fountain head of thecorruption. It was something which came to him in a sudden flash ofintuition;--the barriers between the two worlds were breaking down!

He could picture the process in a hundred different forms. There wasBetty Wyman. His brother had meant to take her to the theatre, to lether see Rosalie, by way of a joke! So, of course, Betty knew of hisescapades, and of those of his set; she and her girl friends werewhispering and jesting about them. Here sat Oliver, smiling andcynical, toying with Rosalie as a cat might toy with a mouse; andto-morrow he would be with Betty--and could anyone doubt any longerwhence Betty had derived her attitude towards life? And the habits ofmind that Oliver had taught her as a girl she would not forget as awife; he might be anxious to keep her to himself, but there would beothers whose interest was different. 

And Montague recalled other things that he had seen or heard inSociety, that he could put his finger upon, as having come out of thisunder-world. The more he thought of the explanation, the more it seemedto explain. This "Society, " which had perplexed him--now he coulddescribe it: its manners and ideals of life were those which he wouldhave expected to find in the "fast" side of stage life. 

It was, of course, the women who made Society, and gave it its tone;and the women of Society were actresses. They were actresses in theirlove of notoriety and display; in their taste in clothes and jewels, their fondness for cigarettes and champagne. They made up likeactresses; they talked and thought like actresses. The only obviousdifference was that the women of the stage were carefullyselected--were at least up to a certain standard of physicalexcellence; whereas the women of Society were not selected at all, andsome were lean, and some were stout, and some were painfully homely. 

Montague recalled cases where the two sets had met as at some of theprivate entertainments. It was getting to be the fashion to hobnob withthe stage people on such occasions; and he recalled how naturally theyounger people took to this. Only the older women held aloof; lookingdown upon the women of the stage from an ineffable height, as belongingto a lower caste--because they were obliged to work for their livings. But it seemed to Montague, as he sat and talked with this poorchorus-girl, who had sold herself for a little pleasure, that it waseasier to pardon her than the woman who had been born to luxury, andscorned those who produced her wealth. 

But most of all, one's sympathies went out to a person who was not tobe met in either of these sets; to the girl who had not sold herself, but was struggling for a living in the midst of this raveningcorruption. There were thousands of self-respecting women, even on thestage; Toodles herself had been among them, she told Montague. "I keptstraight for a long time, " she said, laughing cheerfully--"and on tendollars a week! I used to go out on the road, and then they paid mesixteen; and think of trying to live on one-night stands--to boardyourself and stop at hotels and dress for the theatre--on sixteen aweek, and no job half the year! And all that time--do you know CyrilChambers, the famous church painter?"

"I've heard of him, " said Montague. 

"Well, I was with a show here on Broadway the next winter; and everynight for six months he sent me a bunch of orchids that couldn't havecost less than seventy-five dollars! And he told me he'd open accountsfor me in all the stores I chose, if I'd spend the next summer inEurope with him. He said I could take my mother or my sister withme--and I was so green in those days, I thought that must mean hedidn't intend anything wrong!"

Toodles smiled at the memory. "Did you go?" asked the man. 

"No, " she answered. "I stayed here with a roof-garden show that failed. And I went to my old manager for a job, and he said to me, 'I can onlypay you ten a week. But why are you so foolish?' 'How do you mean?' Iasked; and he answered, 'Why don't you get a rich sweetheart? Then Icould pay you sixty. ' That's what a girl hears on the stage!"

"I don't understand, " said Montague, perplexed. "Did he mean he couldget money out of the man?"

"Not directly, " said Toodles; "but tickets--and advertising. Why, menwill hire front-row seats for a whole season, if they're interested ina girl in the show. And they'll take all their friends to see her, andshe'll be talked about--she'll be somebody, instead of just nobody, asI was. "

"Then it actually helps her on the stage!" said Montague. 

"Helps her!" exclaimed Toodles. "My God! I've known a girl who'd beenabroad with a tip-top swell--and had the gowns and the jewels to proveit--to come home and get into the front row of a chorus at a hundreddollars a week. "

Toodles was cheerful and all unaware; and that only made the tragedy ofit all one shade more black to Montague. He sat lost in sombre reverie, forgetting his companions, and the blare and glare of the place. 

In the centre of this dining-room was a great cone-shaped stand, containing a display of food; and as they strolled out, Montaguestopped to look at it. There were platters garnished with flowers andherbs, and containing roast turkeys and baked hams, jellied meats andgame in aspic, puddings and tarts and frosted cakes--every kind offood-fantasticality imaginable. One might have spent an hour instudying it, and from top to bottom he would have found nothing simple, nothing natural. The turkeys had paper curls and rosettes stuck overthem; the hams were covered with a white gelatine, the devilled crabswith a yellow mayonnaise-and all painted over in pink and green andblack with landscapes and marine views--with "ships and shoes andsealing-wax and cabbages and kings. " The jellied meats and the puddingswere in the shape of fruits and flowers; and there were elaborate worksof art in pink and white confectionery--a barn-yard, for instance, withhorses and cows, and a pump, and a dairymaid--and one or two alligators. 

And all this was changed every day! Each morning you might see aprocession of a score of waiters bearing aloft a new supply. Montagueremembered Betty Wyman's remark at their first interview, apropos ofthe whipped cream made into little curleques; how his brother had said, "If Allan were here, he'd be thinking about the man who fixed thatcream, and how long it took him, and how he might have been reading'The Simple Life'!"

He thought of that now; he stood here and gazed, and wondered about allthe slaves of the lamp who served in this huge temple of luxury. Helooked at the waiters--pale, hollow-chested, harried-looking men: heimagined the hordes of servants of yet lower kinds, who never emergedinto the light of day; the men who washed the dishes, the men whocarried the garbage, the men who shovelled the coal into the furnaces, and made the heat and light and power. Pent up in dim cellars, manystories under ground, and bound for ever to the service ofsensuality--how terrible must be their fate, how unimaginable theircorruption! And they were foreigners; they had come here seekingliberty. And the masters of the new country had seized them and pentthem here!

From this as a starting-point his thought went on, to the hordes oftoilers in every part of the world, whose fate it was to create thethings which these blind revellers destroyed; the women and children incountless mills and sweatshops, who spun the cloth, and cut and sewedit; the girls who made the artificial flowers, who rolled thecigarettes, who gathered the grapes from the vines; the miners who dugthe coal and the precious metals out of the earth; the men who watchedin ten thousand signal-towers and engines, who fought the elements fromthe decks of ten thousand ships--to bring all these things here to bedestroyed. Step by step, as the flood of extravagance rose, and theenergies of the men were turned to the creation of futility andcorruption--so, step by step, increased the misery and degradation ofall these slaves of Mammon. And who could imagine what they would thinkabout it--if ever they came to think?

And then, in a sudden flash, there came back to Montague that speechhe had heard upon the street-corner, the first evening he had been inNew York! He could hear again the pounding of the elevated trains, andthe shrill voice of the orator; he could see his haggard and hungryface, and the dense crowd gazing up at him. And there came to him thewords of Major Thorne:

"It means another civil war!"

CHAPTER XXI

Alice had been gone for a couple of weeks, and the day was drawing nearwhen the Hasbrook case came up for trial. The Saturday before thatbeing the date of the Mi-carême dance of the Long Island Hunt Club, Siegfried Harvey was to have a house-party for the week-end, andMontague accepted his invitation. He had been working hard, putting thefinishing touches to his brief, and he thought that a rest would begood for him. 

He and his brother went down upon Friday afternoon, and the firstperson he met was Betty Wyman, whom he had not seen for quite a while. Betty had much to say, and said it. As Montague had not been seen withMrs. Winnie since the episode in her house, people had begun to noticethe break, and there was no end of gossip; and Mistress Betty wanted toknow all about it, and how things stood between them. 

But he would not tell her, and so she saucily refused to tell him whatshe had heard. All the while they talked she was eyeing himquizzically, and it was evident that she took the worst for granted;also that he had become a much more interesting person to her becauseof it. Montague had the strangest sensations when he was talking withBetty Wyman; she was delicious and appealing, almost irresistible; andyet her views of life were so old! "I told you you wouldn't do for atame cat!" she said to him. 

Then she went on to talk to him about his case, and to tease him aboutthe disturbance he had made. 

"You know, " she said, "Ollie and I were in terror--we thought thatgrandfather would be furious, and that we'd be ruined. But somehow, itdidn't work out that way. Don't you say anything about it, but I've hada sort of a fancy that he must be on your side of the fence. "

"I'd be glad to know it, " said Montague, with a laugh--"I've beentrying for a long time to find out who is on my side of the fence. "

"He was talking about it the other day, " said Betty, "and I heard himtell a man that he'd read your argument, and thought it was good. "

"I'm glad to hear that, " said Montague. 

"So was I, " replied she. "And I said to him afterward, 'I suppose youdon't know that Allan Montague is my Ollie's brother. ' And he did youthe honour to say that he hadn't supposed any member of Ollie's familycould have as much sense!"

Betty was staying with an aunt near by, and she went back beforedinner. In the automobile which came for her was old Wyman himself, onhis way home from the city; and as a snowstorm had begun, he came inand stood by the fire while his car was exchanged for a closed one fromHarvey's stables. Montague did not meet him, but stood and watched himfrom the shadows-a mite of a man, with a keen and eager face, full ofwrinkles. It was hard to realize that this little body held one of thegreat driving minds of the country. He was an intensely nervous andirritable man, bitter and implacable--by all odds the most hated andfeared man in Wall Street. He was swift, imperious, savage as a hornet. "Directors at meetings that I attend vote first and discuss afterward, "was one of his sayings that Montague had heard quoted. Watching himhere by the fireside, rubbing his hands and chatting pleasantly, Montague had a sudden sense of being behind the scenes, of beingadmitted to a privilege denied to ordinary mortals--the beholding ofroyalty in everyday attire!

After dinner that evening Montague had a chat in the smoking-room withhis host; and he brought up the subject of the Hasbrook case, and toldabout his trip to Washington, and his interview with Judge Ellis. 

Harvey also had something to communicate. "I had a talk with FreddieVandam about it, " said he. 

"What did he say?" asked Montague. 

"Well, " replied the other, with a laugh, "he's indignant, needless tosay. You know, Freddie was brought up by his father to regard theFidelity as his property, in a way. He always refers to it as 'mycompany. ' And he's very high and mighty about it--it's a personalaffront if anyone attacks it. But it was evident to me that he doesn'tknow who's behind this case. "

"Did he know about Ellis?" asked Montague. 

"Yes, " said the other, "he had found out that much. It was he who toldme that originally. He says that Ellis has been sponging off thecompany for years--he has a big salary that he never earns, and hasborrowed something like a quarter of a million dollars on worthlesssecurities. "

Montague gave a gasp. 

"Yes, " laughed Harvey. "But after all, that's a little matter. Thetrouble with Freddie Vandam is that that sort of thing is all he sees;and so he'll never be able to make out the mystery. He knows that thisclique or that in the company is plotting to get some advantage, or touse him for their purposes--but he never realizes how the big men arepulling the wires behind the scenes. Some day they'll throw himoverboard altogether, and then he'll realize how they've played withhim. That's what this Hasbrook case means, you know--they simply wantto frighten him with a threat of getting the company's affairs into thecourts and the newspapers. "

Montague sat for a while in deep thought. 

"What would you think would be Wyman's relation to the matter?" heasked, at last. 

"I wouldn't know, " said Harvey. "He's supposed to be Freddie'sbacker--but what can you tell in such a tangle?"

"It is certainly a mess, " said Montague. 

"There's no bottom to it, " said the other. "Absolutely--it would takeyour breath away! Just listen to what Vandam told me to-day!"

And then Harvey named one of the directors of the Fidelity who was wellknown as a philanthropist. Having heard that the wife of one of hisjunior partners had met with an accident in childbirth, and that thedoctor had told her husband that if she ever had another child, shewould die, this man had asked, "Why don't you have her life insured?"The other replied that he had tried, and the companies had refused her. "I'll fix it for you, " said he; and so they put in another application, and the director came to Freddie Vandam and had the policy put through"by executive order. " Seven months later the woman died, and theFidelity had paid her husband in full--a hundred thousand or two!

"That's what's going on in the insurance world!" said Siegfried Harvey. 

And that was the story which Montague took with him to add to hisenjoyment of the festivities at the country club. It was a verygorgeous affair; but perhaps the sombreness of his thoughts was toblame; the flowers and music and beautiful gowns failed entirely intheir appeal, and he saw only the gluttony and drunkenness--more of itthan ever before, it seemed to him. 

Then, too, he had an unpleasant experience. He met Laura Hegan; andpresuming upon her cordial reception of his visit, he went up and spoketo her pleasantly. And she greeted him with frigid politeness; she wasso brief in her remarks and turned away so abruptly as almost to snubhim. He went away quite bewildered. But later on he recalled the gossipabout himself and Mrs. Winnie, and he guessed that that was theexplanation of Miss Hegar's action. 

The episode threw a shadow over his whole visit. On Sunday he went outinto the country and tramped through a snowstorm by himself, filledwith a sense of disgust for all the past, and of foreboding for thefuture. He hated this money-world, in which all that was worst in humanbeings was brought to the surface; he hated it, and wished that he hadnever set foot within its bounds. It was only by tramping until he wastoo tired to feel anything that he was able to master himself. 

And then, toward dark, he came back, and found a telegram which hadbeen forwarded from New York. 

"Meet me at the Penna depot, Jersey City, at nine to-night. Alice. "

This message, of course, drove all other thoughts from his mind. He hadno time even to tell Oliver about it--he had to jump into an automobileand rush to catch the next train for the city. And all through thelong, cold ride in ferry-boats and cabs he pondered this mystery. Alice's party had not been expected for two weeks yet; and only twodays before there had come a letter from Los Angeles, saying that theywould probably be a week over time. And here she was home again!

He found there was an express from the West due at the hour named;apparently, therefore, Alice had not come in the Prentice's train atall. The express was half an hour late, and so he paced up and down theplatform, controlling his impatience as best he could. And finally thelong train pulled in, and he saw Alice coming down the platform. Shewas alone!

"What does it mean?" were the first words he said to her. 

"It's a long story, " she answered. "I wanted to come home. ";

"You mean you've come all the way from the coast by yourself!" hegasped. 

"Yes, " she said, "all the way. "

"What in the world--" he began. 

"I can't tell you here, Allan, " she said. "Wait till we get to somequiet place. "

"But, " he persisted. "The Prentice? They let you come home alone?"

"They didn't know it, " she said. "I ran away. "

He was more bewildered than ever. But as he started to ask morequestions, she laid a hand upon his arm. "Please wait, Allan, " shesaid. "It upsets me to talk about it. It was Charlie Carter. "

And so the light broke. He caught his breath and gasped, "Oh!"

He said not another word until they had crossed the ferry and settledthemselves in a cab, and started. "Now, " he said, "tell me. "

Alice began. "I was very much upset, " she said. "But you mustunderstand, Allan, that I've had nearly a week to think it over, and Idon't mind it now. So I want you please not to get excited about it; itwasn't poor Charlie's fault--he can't help himself. It was my mistake. I ought to have taken your advice and had nothing to do with him. "

"Go on, " said he; and Alice told her story. 

The party had gone sight-seeing, and she had had a headache and hadstayed in the car. And Charlie Carter had come and begun making love toher. "He had asked me to marry him already--that was at the beginningof the trip, " she said. "And I told him no. After that he would neverlet me alone. And this time he went on in a terrible way--he flunghimself down on his knees, and wept, and said he couldn't live withoutme. And nothing I could say did any good. At last he--he caught hold ofme--and he wouldn't let me go. I was furious with him, and frightened. I had to threaten to call for help before he would stop. And so--yousee how it was. "

"I see, " said Montague, gravely. "Go on. "

"Well, after that I made up my mind that I couldn't stay anywhere whereI had to see him. And I knew he would never go away without a scene. IfI had asked Mrs. Prentice to send him away, there would have been ascandal, and it would have spoiled everybody's trip. So I went out, andfound there was a train for the East in a little while, and I packed upmy things, and left a note for Mrs. Prentice. I told her a story--Isaid I'd had a telegram that your mother was ill, and that I didn'twant to spoil their good time, and had gone by myself. That was thebest thing I could think of. I wasn't afraid to travel, so long as Iwas sure that Charlie couldn't catch up with me. "

Montague said nothing; he sat with his hands gripped tightly. 

"It seemed like a desperate thing to do, " said Alice, nervously. "Butyou see, I was upset and unhappy. I didn't seem to like the party anymore--I wanted to be home. Do you understand?"

"Yes, " said Montague, "I understand. And I'm glad you are here. "

They reached home, and Montague called up Harvey's and told his brotherwhat had happened. He could hear Oliver gasp with astonishment. "That'sa pretty how-do-you-do!" he said, when he had got his breath back; andthen he added, with a laugh, "I suppose that settles poor Charlie'schances. "

"I'm glad you've come to that conclusion, " said the other, as he hungup the receiver. 

This episode gave Montague quite a shock. But he had little time tothink about it--the next morning at eleven o'clock his case was to comeup for trial, and so all his thoughts were called away. This case hadbeen the one real interest of his life for the last three months; itwas his purpose, the thing for the sake of which he endured everythingelse that repelled him. And he had trained himself as an athlete for agreat race; he was in form, and ready for the effort of his life. Hewent down town that morning with every fibre of him, body and mind, alert and eager; and he went into his office, and in his mail was aletter from Mr. Hasbrook. He opened it hastily and read a message, brief and direct and decisive as a sword-thrust:

"I beg to inform you that I have received a satisfactory propositionfrom the Fidelity Company. I have settled with them, and wish towithdraw the suit. Thanking you for your services, I remain, sincerely. "

To Montague the thing came like a thunderbolt. He sat utterlydumbfounded--his hands went limp, and the letter fell upon the desk infront of him. 

And at last, when he did move, he picked up the telephone, and told hissecretary to call up Mr. Hasbrook. Then he sat waiting; and when thebell rang, picked up the receiver, expecting to hear Mr. Hasbrook'svoice, and to demand an explanation. But he heard, instead, the voiceof his own secretary: "Central says the number's been discontinued, sir. "

And he hung up the receiver, and sat motionless again. The dummy haddisappeared!

To Montague this incident meant a change in the prospect of his wholelife. It was the collapse of all his hopes. He had nothing more to workfor, nothing more to think about; the bottom had fallen out of hiscareer!

He was burning with a sense of outrage. He had been tricked and made afool of; he had been used and flung aside. And now there was nothing hecould do--he was utterly helpless. What affected him most was his senseof the overwhelming magnitude of the powers which had made him theirpuppet; of the utter futility of the efforts that he or any other mancould make against them. They were like elemental, cosmic forces; theyheld all the world in their grip, and a common man was as much at theirmercy as a bit of chaff in a tempest. 

All day long he sat in his office, brooding and nursing his wrath. Hehad moods when he wished to drop everything, to shake the dust of thecity from his feet, and go back home and recollect what it was to be agentleman. And then again he had fighting moods, when he wished todevote all his life to punishing the men who had made use of him. Hewould get hold of some other policy-holder in the Fidelity, one whom hecould trust; he would take the case without pay, and carry it throughto the end! He would force the newspapers to talk about it--he wouldforce the people to heed what he said!

And then, toward evening, he went home, bitter and sore. And there washis brother sitting in his study, waiting for him. 

"Hello, " he said, and took off his coat, preparing his mind for onemore ignominy--the telling of his misfortune to Oliver, and listeningto his inevitable, "I told you so. "

But Oliver himself had something to communicate something that wouldnot bear keeping. He broke out at once--"Tell me, Allan! What in theworld has happened between you and Mrs. Winnie?"

"What do you mean?" asked Montague, sharply. 

"Why, " said Oliver, "everybody is talking about some kind of a quarrel. "

"There has been no quarrel, " said Montague. 

"Well, what is it, then?"

"It's nothing. "

"It must be something!" exclaimed Oliver. "What do all the storiesmean?"

"What stories?"

"About you two. I met Mrs. Vivie Patton just now, and she swore me tosecrecy, and told me that Mrs. Winnie had told some one that you hadmade love to her so outrageously that she had to ask you to leave thehouse. "

Montague shrunk as from a blow. "Oh!" he gasped. 

"That's what she said, " said he. 

"It's a lie!" he cried. 

"That's what I told Mrs. Vivie, " said the other; "it doesn't sound likeyou--"

Montague had flushed scarlet. "I don't mean that!" he cried. "I meanthat Mrs. Winnie never said any such thing. "

"Oh, " said Oliver, and he shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe not, " headded. "But I know she's furious with you about something--everybody'stalking about it. She tells people that she'll never speak to youagain. And what I want to know is, why is it that you have to do thingsto make enemies of everybody you know?"

Montague said nothing; he was trembling with anger. 

"What in the world did you do to her?" began the other. "Can't youtrust me---"

And suddenly Montague sprang to his feet. "Oh, Oliver, " he exclaimed, "let me alone! Go away!"

And he went into the next room and slammed the door, and began pacingback and forth like a caged animal. 

It was a lie! It was a lie! Mrs. Winnie had never said such a thing! Hewould never believe it--it was a nasty piece of backstairs gossip!

But then a new burst of rage swept over him What did it matter Whetherit was true or not--whether anything was true or not? What did itmatter if anybody had done all the hideous and loathsome things thateverybody else said they had done? It was what everybody was saying! Itwas what everybody believed--what everybody was interested in! It wasthe measure of a whole society--their ideals and their standards! Itwas the way they spent their time, repeating nasty scandals about eachother; living in an atmosphere of suspicion and cynicism, with endlesswhispering and leering, and gossip of lew intrigue. 

A flood of rage surged up within him, and swept him, away--rage againstthe world into which he had come, and against himself for the part hehad played in it. Everything seemed to have come to a head at once; andhe hated everything--hated the people he had met, and the things theydid, and the things they had tempted him to do. He hated the way he hadgot his money, and the way he had spent it. He hated the idleness andwastefulness, the drunkenness and debauchery, the meanness and thesnobbishness. 

And suddenly he turned and flung open the door of the room where Oliverstill sat. And he stood in the doorway, exclaiming, "Oliver, I'm donewith it!"

Oliver stared at him. "What do you mean?" he asked. 

"I mean, " cried his brother, "that I've had all I can stand of'Society!' And I'm going to quit. You can go on--but I don't intend totake another step with you! I've had enough--and I think Alice has hadenough, also. We'll take ourselves off your hands--we'll get out!"

"What are you going to do?" gasped Oliver. 

"I'm going to give up these expensive apartments--give them upto-morrow, when our week is up. And I'm going to stop squandering moneyfor things I don't want. I'm going to stop accepting invitations, andmeeting people I don't like and don't want to know. I've tried yourgame--I've tried it hard, and I don't like it; and I'm going to get outbefore it's too late. I'm going to find some decent and simple place tolive in; and I'm going down town to find out if there isn't some way inNew York for a man to earn an honest living!"

THE END