Someone coughed and, startled, they both looked up. Mr. Ryder had entered the room unobserved and stood watching them. Shirley immediately rose to her feet indignant, resenting this intrusion on her privacy after she had declined to receive the financier. Yet, she reflected quickly, how could she prevent it? He was at home, free to come and go as he pleased, but she was not compelled to remain in the same room with him. She picked up the few things that lay about and with a contemptuous toss of her head, retreated into the inner apartment, leaving father and son alone together.

"Hum," grunted Ryder, Sr. "I rather thought I should find you here, but I didn't quite expect to find you on your knees—dragging our pride in the mud."

"That's where our pride ought to be," retorted Jefferson savagely. He felt in the humor to say anything, no matter what the consequences.

"So she has refused you again, eh?" said Ryder, Sr. with a grin.

"Yes," rejoined Jefferson with growing irritation, "she objects to my family. I don't blame her."

The financier smiled grimly as he answered:

"Your family in general—me in particular, eh? I gleaned that much when I came in." He looked towards the door of the room in which Shirley had taken refuge and as if talking to himself he added: "A curious girl with an inverted point of view—sees everything different to others—I want to see her before she goes."

He walked over to the door and raised his hand as if he were about to knock. Then he stopped as if he had changed his mind and turning towards his son he demanded:

"Do you mean to say that she has done with you?"

"Yes," answered Jefferson bitterly.

"Finally?"

"Yes, finally—forever!"

"Does she mean it?" asked Ryder, Sr., sceptically.

"Yes—she will not listen to me while her father is still in peril."

There was an expression of half amusement, half admiration on the financier's face as he again turned towards the door.

"It's like her, damn it, just like her!" he muttered.

He knocked boldly at the door.

"Who's there?" cried Shirley from within.

"It is I—Mr. Ryder. I wish to speak to you."

"I must beg you to excuse me," came the answer, "I cannot see you."

Jefferson interfered.

"Why do you want to add to the girl's misery? Don't you think she has suffered enough?"

"Do you know what she has done?" said Ryder with pretended indignation. "She has insulted me grossly. I never was so humiliated in my life. She has returned the cheque I sent her last night in payment for her work on my biography. I mean to make her take that money. It's hers, she needs it, her father's a beggar. She must take it back. It's only flaunting her contempt for me in my face and I won't permit it."

[Photo, from the play, of Mr. Ryder holding out a cheque to Shirley.]

"So I contaminate even good money?"—Act IV.

"I don't think her object in refusing that money was to flaunt contempt in your face, or in any way humiliate you," answered Jefferson. "She feels she has been sailing under false colours and desires to make some reparation."

"And so she sends me back my money, feeling that will pacify me, perhaps repair the injury she has done me, perhaps buy me into entering into her plan of helping her father, but it won't. It only increases my determination to see her and her—" Suddenly changing the topic he asked: "When do you leave us?"

"Now—at once—that is—I—don't know," answered Jefferson embarrassed. "The fact is my faculties are numbed—I seem to have lost my power of thinking. Father," he exclaimed, "you see what a wreck you have made of our lives!"

"Now, don't moralize," replied his father testily, "as if your own selfishness in desiring to possess that girl wasn't the mainspring of all your actions!" Waving his son out of the room he added: "Now leave me alone with her for a few moments. Perhaps I can make her listen to reason."

Jefferson stared at his father as if he feared he were out of his mind.

"What do you mean? Are you—?" he ejaculated.

"Go—go leave her to me," commanded the financier. "Slam the door when you go out and she'll think we've both gone. Then come up again presently."

The stratagem succeeded admirably. Jefferson gave the door a vigorous pull and John Ryder stood quiet, waiting for the girl to emerge from sanctuary. He did not have to wait long. The door soon opened and Shirley came out slowly. She had her hat on and was drawing on her gloves, for through her window she had caught a glimpse of the cab standing at the curb. She started on seeing Ryder standing there motionless, and she would have retreated had he not intercepted her.

"I wish to speak to you Miss—Rossmore," he began.

"I have nothing to say," answered Shirley frigidly.

"Why did you do this?" he asked, holding out the cheque.

"Because I do not want your money," she replied with hauteur.

"It was yours—you earned it," he said.

"No, I came here hoping to influence you to help my father. The work I did was part of the plan. It happened to fall my way. I took it as a means to get to your heart."

"But it is yours, please take it. It will be useful."

"No," she said scornfully, "I can't tell you how low I should fall in my own estimation if I took your money! Money," she added, with ringing contempt, "why, that's all there is to you! It's your god! Shall I make your god my god? No, thank you, Mr. Ryder!"

"Am I as bad as that?" he asked wistfully.

"You are as bad as that!" she answered decisively.

"So bad that I contaminate even good money?" He spoke lightly but she noticed that he winced.

"Money itself is nothing," replied the girl, "it's the spirit that gives it—the spirit that receives it, the spirit that earns it, the spirit that spends it. Money helps to create happiness. It also creates misery. It's an engine of destruction when not properly used, it destroys individuals as it does nations. It has destroyed you, for it has warped your soul!"

"Go on," he laughed bitterly, "I like to hear you!"

"No, you don't, Mr. Ryder, no you don't, for deep down in your heart you know that I am speaking the truth. Money and the power it gives you, has dried up the well-springs of your heart."

He affected to be highly amused at her words, but behind the mask of callous indifference the man suffered. Her words seared him as with a red hot iron. She went on:

"In the barbaric ages they fought for possession, but they fought openly. The feudal barons fought for what they stole, but it was a fair fight. They didn't strike in the dark. At least, they gave a man a chance for his life. But when you modern barons of industry don't like legislation you destroy it, when you don't like your judges you remove them, when a competitor outbids you you squeeze him out of commercial existence! You have no hearts, you are machines, and you are cowards, for you fight unfairly."

"It is not true, it is not true," he protested.

"It is true," she insisted hotly, "a few hours ago in cold blood you doomed my father to what is certain death because you decided it was a political necessity. In other words he interfered with your personal interests—your financial interests—you, with so many millions you can't count them!" Scornfully she added: "Come out into the light—fight in the open! At least, let him know who his enemy is!"

"Stop—stop—not another word," he cried impatiently, "you have diagnosed the disease. What of the remedy? Are you prepared to reconstruct human nature?"

Confronting each other, their eyes met and he regarded her without resentment, almost with tenderness. He felt strangely drawn towards this woman who had defied and accused him, and made him see the world in a new light.

"I don't deny," he admitted reluctantly, "that things seem to be as you describe them, but it is part of the process of evolution."

"No," she protested, "it is the work of God!"

"It is evolution!" he insisted.

"Ah, that's it," she retorted, "you evolve new ideas, new schemes, new tricks—you all worship different gods—gods of your own making!"

He was about to reply when there was a commotion at the door and Theresa entered, followed by a man servant to carry down the trunk.

"The cab is downstairs, Miss," said the maid.

Ryder waved them away imperiously. He had something further to say which he did not care for servants to hear. Theresa and the man precipitately withdrew, not understanding, but obeying with alacrity a master who never brooked delay in the execution of his orders. Shirley, indignant, looked to him for an explanation.

"You don't need them," he exclaimed with a quiet smile in which was a shade of embarrassment. "I—I came here to tell you that I—" He stopped as if unable to find words, while Shirley gazed at him in utter astonishment. "Ah," he went on finally, "you have made it very hard for me to speak." Again he paused and then with an effort he said slowly: "An hour ago I had Senator Roberts on the long distance telephone, and I'm going to Washington. It's all right about your father. The matter will be dropped. You've beaten me. I acknowledge it. You're the first living soul who ever has beaten John Burkett Ryder."

Shirley started forward with a cry of mingled joy and surprise. Could she believe her ears? Was it possible that the dreaded Colossus had capitulated and that she had saved her father? Had the forces of right and justice prevailed, after all? Her face transfigured, radiant she exclaimed breathlessly:

"What, Mr. Ryder, you mean that you are going to help my father?"

"Not for his sake—for yours," he answered frankly.

Shirley hung her head. In her moment of triumph, she was sorry for all the hard things she had said to this man. She held out her hand to him.

"Forgive me," she said gently, "it was for my father. I had no faith. I thought your heart was of stone."

Impulsively Ryder drew her to him, he clasped her two hands in his and looking down at her kindly he said, awkwardly:

"So it was—so it was! You accomplished the miracle. It's the first time I've acted on pure sentiment. Let me tell you something. Good sentiment is bad business and good business is bad sentiment—that's why a rich man is generally supposed to have such a hard time getting into the Kingdom of Heaven." He laughed and went on, "I've given ten millions apiece to three universities. Do you think I'm fool enough to suppose I can buy my way? But that's another matter. I'm going to Washington on behalf of your father because I—want you to marry my son. Yes, I want you in the family, close to us. I want your respect, my girl. I want your love. I want to earn it. I know I can't buy it. There's a weak spot in every man's armour and this is mine—I always want what I can't get and I can't get your love unless I earn it."

Shirley remained pensive. Her thoughts were out on Long Island, at Massapequa. She was thinking of their joy when they heard the news—her father, her mother and Stott. She was thinking of the future, bright and glorious with promise again, now that the dark clouds were passing away. She thought of Jefferson and a soft light came into her eyes as she foresaw a happy wifehood shared with him.

"Why so sober," demanded Ryder, "you've gained your point, your father is to be restored to you, you'll marry the man you love?"

"I'm so happy!" murmured Shirley. "I don't deserve it. I had no faith."

Ryder released her and took out his watch.

"I leave in fifteen minutes for Washington," he said. "Will you trust me to go alone?"

"I trust you gladly," she answered smiling at him. "I shall always be grateful to you for letting me convert you."

"You won me over last night," he rejoined, "when you put up that fight for your father. I made up my mind that a girl so loyal to her father would be loyal to her husband. You think," he went on, "that I do not love my son—you are mistaken. I do love him and I want him to be happy. I am capable of more affection than people think. It is Wall Street," he added bitterly, "that has crushed all sentiment out of me."

Shirley laughed nervously, almost hysterically.

"I want to laugh and I feel like crying," she cried. "What will Jefferson say—how happy he will be!"

"How are you going to tell him?" inquired Ryder uneasily.

"I shall tell him that his dear, good father has relented and—"

"No, my dear," he interrupted, "you will say nothing of the sort. I draw the line at the dear, good father act. I don't want him to think that it comes from me at all."

"But," said Shirley puzzled, "I shall have to tell him that you—"

"What?" exclaimed Ryder, "acknowledge to my son that I was in the wrong, that I've seen the error of my ways and wish to repent? Excuse me," he added grimly, "it's got to come from him. He must see the error of his ways."

"But the error of his way," laughed the girl, "was falling in love with me. I can never prove to him that that was wrong!"

The financier refused to be convinced. He shook his head and said stubbornly:

"Well, he must be put in the wrong somehow or other! Why, my dear child," he went on, "that boy has been waiting all his life for an opportunity to say to me: 'Father, I knew I was in the right, and I knew you were wrong,' Can't you see," he asked, "what a false position it places me in? Just picture his triumph!"

"He'll be too happy to triumph," objected Shirley.

Feeling a little ashamed of his attitude, he said:

"I suppose you think I'm very obstinate." Then, as she made no reply, he added: "I wish I didn't care what you thought."

Shirley looked at him gravely for a moment and then she replied seriously:

"Mr. Ryder, you're a great man—you're a genius—your life is full of action, energy, achievement. But it appears to be only the good, the noble and the true that you are ashamed of. When your money triumphs over principle, when your political power defeats the ends of justice, you glory in your victory. But when you do a kindly, generous, fatherly act, when you win a grand and noble victory over yourself, you are ashamed of it. It was a kind, generous impulse that has prompted you to save my father and take your son and myself to your heart. Why are you ashamed to let him see it? Are you afraid he will love you? Are you afraid I shall love you? Open your heart wide to us—let us love you."

Ryder, completely vanquished, opened his arms and Shirley sprang forward and embraced him as she would have embraced her own father. A solitary tear coursed down the financier's cheek. In thirty years he had not felt, or been touched by, the emotion of human affection.

The door suddenly opened and Jefferson entered. He started on seeing Shirley in his father's arms.

"Jeff, my boy," said the financier, releasing Shirley and putting her hand in his son's, "I've done something you couldn't do—I've convinced Miss Green—I mean Miss Rossmore—that we are not so bad after all!"

Jefferson, beaming, grasped his father's hand.

"Father!" he exclaimed.

"That's what I say—father!" echoed Shirley.

They both embraced the financier until, overcome with emotion, Ryder, Sr., struggled to free himself and made his escape from the room crying:

"Good-bye, children—I'm off for Washington!"



THE END



Transcriber's Notes:

The following words used an 'ae' or 'oe' ligature in the original: Croesus, manoeuvre, subpoena, coeur, vertebrae, Caesar.

There were a number of faded/missing letters and some transposition errors in the edition this eBook was taken from. The following corrections were made:

Chapter headers standardised: V-VII previously had a trailing full-stop.

Opening quote inserted: "Yes, and it was worth it to him... Typo "determinatioin": ...arriving at this determination. Opening quote inserted: "Tell me, what do the papers say?" Single quote moved: "You sent him a copy of 'The American Octopus'?" Single quote doubled: ...hatred of the hero of your book." Acute accent inserted: ...proceeded to the Hotel de l'Athenee... Typo "I'ts": ...life to my father. It's no use... Quote moved/reversed: ...said Shirley decisively. "What is more... Closing quote inserted: ...What account will you be able to give?" Typo "Rosmore": ...Judge Rossmore—that is by saving him... Closing quote inserted: "How?" asked Shirley calmly. Closing quote inserted: "Upon my word—" he said. Opening quote inserted: "The dying father, the sorrowing mother... Opening quote inserted: ...a meddlesome man," insisted Ryder "and... Opening quote inserted: ...she replied seriously. "Nothing can be... Closing quote inserted: ...a hopeless love?" He approached her... Quote moved/reversed: ...answered Jefferson embarrassed. "The fact...

THE END