The Texas Mesquiter. (Mesquite, Tex.), Vol. 28, No. 6, Ed. 1 Friday, August 6, 1909 Page: 3 of 8
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SYNOPSIS.
The* story opens at Harvard where Col.
Rupert Winter, U. 8. A., visiting, saw the
sulcldo of young Mercer. He met Cary
Mercer, brother of the dead student.
Three years later, In Chicago, in MOO,
Col. Winter overheard Cary Mercer ap-
parently planning to kidnap Archie, tne
colonel's ward, and to gain possession of
Aunt Rebecca Winter's millions. A Miss
Smith was mentioned apparently as a
conspirator. A great financial magnate
was aboard the train on which Col. Win-
ter met his Aunt Rebecca, Miss Smith
and Archie. Col. Winter learned that the
financial magnate Is Edwin S. Keatcham.
Winter, aided by Archie, cleverly frus-
trated a hold-up on the train, lie took a
great liking to Miss Smith, despite her
alleged kidnaping plot. Archie mysteri-
ously disappeared In Frisco. Blood In a
nearby room at the hotel caused fears for
the buy's life. The lad's voice was heard
■over the telephone, however, and a min-
ute later a woman's voice—that of Miss
Smith. Col. Winter and a detective set
•out for the empty mansion owned by
Arnold, a Harvard graduate. They were
met with an explosion within. Mercer
appeared. He assured Winter that Archie
had returned. The colonel saw a vision
ilitting from the supposedly haunteci
house. It was Miss Janet Smith. Col.
Winter to himself admitted that he loved
Miss Smith. Mercer told Winter that
Archie had overheard plans for a coup
and hud been kidnaped. One of Mercer's
friends on returning the boy to his aunt
had been arrested for speeding and when
ho returned from the police station to his
auto the lad was gone. Mercer confessed
he was forcibly detaining Keatcham.
Mercer told his life story, relating how
Keatcham and his scoundrel secretary,
Atkins, had ruined him, the blow killing
his wife. Mercer was holding him prison-
er in order that he could not get control
•of a railroad which was the pet project of
the father of his college friend, Endicott
Tracy. Aunt Rebecca saw Archie in a
cab with two men. Then he vanished.
She followed In an auto into the Chinese
•district and by the use of a inysteriouB
Chinese jade ornament she secured a
promise from an influential Chinaman
that the boy would be returned. Archie
returned and told his story, Atkins, for-
mer secretary to Keatcham, being his
second kidnaper. Col. Winter and Tracy
returned to the "haunted house." They
found Keatcham, apparently stabbed to
death. Keatcham was not dead, how-
ever. Carv Mercer appeared on the scene.
Winter believing his actions suspicious
and observing blood on his cuffs and
trousers. Mrs. Millicent Melville., in let-
ters to her husband, revealed that she al-
lowed information to "leak" to Atkins.
•Suspicions directed themselves at Atkins
in the Keatcham assault. Unknowingly
Mrs. Melville had made herself a tool for
Atkins' dark scheme In stocks. The par-
ty having removed to the Arnold home,
lived in constant fear of bombs and in-
fernal machines from Atkins' gang.
Keatcham, convalescing, told Winter his
life story and its tragedy.
t
CHAPTER XVI.—Continued.
Conscious and free from fever, he
was barely able to articulate, but
when delirious fancies possessed him
he could talk rapidly, in a good voice.
Very soon it was clear that ho was
calmer for the colonel's presence.
Hence, the latter got into the habit
of sitting in the room. He would re-
quest imaginary ruined and desperate
beings to leave Keatcham in peace;
he would gravely rise and close the
door on their departure. He never was
surprised nor at a loss; and his dra-
matic nerve never failed. Later, as
the visions faded, a moody reserve
wrapped the sick man. He lay motion-
less, evidently absorbed by thought.
In one way he was what doctors call a
very good patient. He obeyed all di-
rections; he was not restless. But
neither was he ever cheerful. Every
day he asked for his pulse record and
his temperature and his respiration.
After a consultation with the doc-
tor, Miss Smith gave them to him.
"It is against the rules," grumbled
the doctor, "but I suppose each pa-
tient has to make his own rules." On
the same theory he permitted the colo-
nel's visits.
Therefore, with no surprise, Winter
received and obeyed the summons.
Keatcham greeted him with his usual
stiff courtesy.
"The doctor says I can have the—
papers—will you pick out—the—one—
day after 1 was stabbed."
Miss Smith indicated a pile on a
little table, placed ready at hand. "I
kept them for him," she said.
"Read about—the Midland," com-
manded the faint, indomitable voice.
"Want the election and the newspa-
per sentiments?" asked the colonel;
ho gave it all, conscious the while of
Janet Smith's compassionate, per-
plexed, sorrowful eyes.
"Don't skip!" Keatcham managed to
articulate after a pause.
The colonel gave him a keen glance.
"Want it straight, without a chaser?"
Keatcham closed his eyes and
nodded.
The colonel read about the virtually
unanimous election of Tracy; the as-
tonishment of the outsiders among the
supposed anti-Tracy element; the com-
posed and Impenetrable front of the
men closest to Keatcham; the reticence
and amiability of Tracy himself, in
whoso mien there could be detected no
hint either of hostility or of added
cordiality toward the men wh had
been expected "to drag his bleeding
pride in the dust;" finally of the re-
sponse of the stock-market in a phe-
nomenal rise of Midland.
Keatcham listened with his unde-
cipherable mask of attention; there
was not so much as the dicker of an
eyelid or the twitch of a muscle. All
he said was: "Now, read if there is
anything about the endowment, of the
new fellowships iu some medical
schools for experimental research."
"Who gives the endowment?"
"Anonymous. In memory of Maria
Warren Keatcham and Helen Bradford
Keatcham. Kind anything?"
The colonel found a great deal
about It. The paper was full of this
munificent gift, amounting to many
millions of dollars and filling (with
most carefully and wisely-planned de-
tails) an almost absolute vacuum in
the American scheme of education.
The dignity and fame of the chairs
and fellowships endowed were ample
to tempt the best ability of the profes-
sion. The reader grew enthusiastic
as he read.
"Why, it's immense! And we have
always needed it!" he exclaimed.
"There are some letters about it,
there"—Keatcham feebly motioned to
a number of neatly-opened, neatly-
assorted letters on a desk. "The doc-
tor said I might have the letters read
to me. Miss Smith got him to. For
fear of exciting you, the doctors usual-
ly let you worry your head off be-
cause you don't know about things.
I've got to carry a few things through
if it kills me. Don't you see?"
"I see," said the colonel, "you shall."
The next time he saw the financier,
although only a few days had elapsed,
ho was much stronger; he was able
to breathe comfortably, he spoke with
ease, in his ordinary voice; in fine, he
looked his old self again, merely thin-
ner and paler. Hardly was the colonel
seated before he said without preface
—Keatcham never made approaches to
his subject, regarding conversational
road-making as waste of brains for a
busy man:
"Colonel, Miss Smith hasn't time to
be my nurse and secretary both. I
won't have one sent from New York;
will you help her out?"
The colonel's lips twitched; he was
thinking that were Miss Smith work-
ing for Atkins, she couldn't have a
better chance to make a killing. "But
I'll bet my life she isn't," lie added;
"she may bo trying to save his life,
but she isn't playing his game!"
lie said aloud: "I will, Mr. Keatch-
am, if you will let me do it as part of
the obligation of the situation; and
there is no bally rot about compensa-
tion."
"Very well," said Keatcham. He
did not hesitate; it. was (as the colonel
had already discovered) the rarest
thing in the world for him to hesitate;
ho thought with astonishing rapidity;
and he formulated his answer while
his interlocutor talked; before the
speech was over the answer was
ready. Another trait of his had struck
the soldier, namely, the laborious cor-
rectness of his speech; it was often
formal and old-fashioned; Aunt Re-
becca said that ho talked like Daniel
Webster's speeches; but it had none
of the homely and pungent savor one
might expect from a man whose boy-
hood had scrambled through miners'
camps into a San Francisco stock of-
fice; who had never gone to school in
his life by daylight; who had been
mine superintendent, small speculator
and small director in California until
he became a big speculator and big
railway controller In New York.
"You might begin on th« morning
mail," Keatcham continued. "Let me
sort them first." He merely glanced
at the Inscriptions on the envelopes,
opening and taking, out one which he
read rather carelessly, frowning a lit-
tle before he placed it to one side.
A number of the letters concerned
the endowments of the experimental
chairs at the universities. Kcatcham's
attention was not lightened by any ray
of pleasure. Once lie said: "That
fellow has caught my idea," and once:
"That's right," but there was no ani-
mation in his voice, no interest in his
pallid face. Stealing a furtive scru-
tiny of it, now and then, Rupert Win-
ter was impressed with its mystical
likeness to that of Cary Mercer.
There was no physical similarity of
color or feature; it was a likeness of
the spirit rather than the flesh. The
colonel's eyes flashed.
"I have it!" he exclaimed within,
"I have it; they are fanatics, both of
them; Keatchani's a fanatic of finance
and Mercer is a. fanatic of another
sort; but fanatics they both are, ready
to go any length for their principles or
their ambitions or their revenge!
.T'al trouve le mot d'enigme, as Aunt
Becky would say—I wonder what she'll
say to this sudden psychological
splurge of mine."
"The business hour Is up"—it was
Miss Smith entering with a bowl on a
white-covered tray; the sun glinted
the lump of ico in the milk and the
silver spoon was dazzling against the
linen—"your biscuit and milk, Mr.
Keatcham. Didn't you have it when
you were a boy?"
"1 did, Miss Janet"—and Keatcham
actually smiled. "I used to think
crackers and milk the nicest thing in
the world."
"That is because you never tasted
corn pone and milk; but you are go-
ing to."
"When you make it for me. I'm glad
you're such a good cook. It's one of
your ways I like. My mother was a
very good cook. She could make bet-
ter dishes out of almost nothing than
these mongrel chefs can make with
the whole world."
"I reckon she could," said Miss
Smith; she was speaking sincerely.
"When my father didn't strike pay
dirt, my mother would open her bak-
ery and make pies for the miners;
she could make bread with potato
INSTALLMENT 1ft.
m
a
1
P
"Miss Cmith Opened Itl I Could See Her."
yeast or 'salt-emptins'—cau you make
salt-rising bread?"
"I can shall I make you some to-
morrow?"
"I'd like It. My mother used to make
more money than my father; some-
times when we children were low in
clothes and dad owed a bigger lot of
money than usual, we had a laundry
at our house as well as a bakery.
Yet, in spite of all the work, my
mother found time to teach all of us;
and she knew how to teach, too; for
she was principal of a school when
my father married her. She was a
New Englander; so was he; but they
went west. We're forty-niners. I saw
the place where our little cloth-and-
board shack used to stand. After the
big fire, you know. It burned us all
up; we had saved a good deal and
my mother had a nice bakery. She
worked too hard; It killed her. Work
and struggle and losing the children."
"They died?" sail? Miss Janet.
"Diphtheria. They didn't know any-
thing about the disease then. We all
had it; and my little sister and both
my brothers died; but I'm tough. I
lived. My mother fell into what they
called a decline. I was making a lit-
tle money then—I was 16; but I
couldn't keep her from working. Per-
haps It made no difference; but It did
mako a difference her not having the
—the right kind of food. Nobody knew
anything about consumption then. I
used to go out in the morning and be
afraid I'd find her dead when I got
back. One night I did." He stopped
abruptly, crimsoning up to liis eyes—
"I don't know why I'm telling you all
this."
"I call that tough"—as the colonel
blurted out the words, he was con-
scious of a sense of repetition. When
had he said those very same words
before, to whom? Of all people In the
world, to Cary Mercer, "Mighty
tough," murmured he softly.
"Yes," said Keatcham, "it was." He
did not say anything moro. Neither
did the colonel. Keatcham obediently
ate his milk and biscuit; and very
shortly the colonel took his leave.
The next morning after an unevent-
ful hour of sorting, reading and an-
swering letters for Miss Smith to copy
on the traveling typewriter, Keatcham
gave his new secretary a sharp sensa-
tion; he ordered in his quiet but per-
emptory fashion: "Now put that trash
away; sit down; tell me all you know
of Cary—real name is Cary Mercer,
isn't, it?"
The colonel said it was; he asked
him If he wanted everything.
"Everything. Straight. Without a
chaser," snapped Keatcham.
The colonel gave it to him. Ha be-
gan with his own acquaintance; he
told about Phi! Mercer; he did not slur
a detail; neither did ho underscore
one; Keatcham got the uncolored
facts. Ho heard them Impassively,
making only one comment: "A great
deal of damage would bo saved in this
world If youngsters could be shut up
until they had sense enough not to
fool with firearms." When Winter
came to Mercer's own exposition of
his motives and his design If success-
ful in his raid on the kings of the
market, Keatcham grunted; at the end
he breathed a uoiseless jet of a sigh.
"You don't think Mercer is at all"—
he tapped the side of the head.
"No more than you are."
"Or you?"
"Oh, well," the colonel jested, "we
all have a prejudice in favor of our
own sanity. What I meant was that
Mercer Is a bit of a fanatic; his hard
luck has—well, prejudiced him—"
Keatcham's cold, firm lips straight-
ened Into his peculiar smile, which
was rather of perception than of
humor.
One might say of him—Aunt Rebec-
ca Winter did say of him—that he
saw the incongruous, which makes up
for humor, but he never enjoyed It;
possibly it was only another factor In
his contempt of mankind.
"Colonel," said Keatcham, "do you
think Wall street is a den of thieves?"
'1 do," said the colonel promptly.
"I should like to take a machine gun
or two and clean you all out."
Keatcham did not smile; ho blinked
his eyes and nodded. "I presume a
good many people share your opinion
of us."
"Millions," replied the colonel.
Again Keatcham nodded. "I thought
so," said he. "Of course you are all
off; Wall street Is as necessary to the
commonwealth as the pores to your
skin; they don't make the poison In
the system any more than the pores
do; they only let it escape. And I sup-
pose you think that big financiers who
control the trusts and the railways
and—"
"Us," the colonel struck fn, "well?"
"You think we are thieves and liars
and murderers and despots?"
"All of that," said the colonel placid-
ly; "also fools."
"You certainly don't mince your
words."
"You don't want me to. What use
would my opinion be in a one-thou-
sandth attenuation? You're no homeo-
path; and whatever else you may be,
you're no coward."
"Yet, you think I surrendered to
Mercer? You think I did it because
I was afraid he would kill me? I sup-
pose he would have killed me if I
hadn't, eh?"
"He can speak for himself about
that; he seems—well, an earnest sort
of man. But I don't think you gave in
because you were afraid, if that is
what you mean. You are no more
afraid than he was! You wanted to
live, probably; you had big things on
hand. The Midland was only a trump
in the game; you could win the odd
trick with something else; you let the
Midland go."
"Pretty close,"—Keatcham really
smiled—"but there Is a good deal
moro of It I was shut up with the
results of my—my work. He did It
very cleverly. I had nothing to dis-
tract me. Thero were the big type-
written pages about the foolish peo-
plo who had lost their money. In some
cases really through my course, most-
ly because they got Beared and let go
end were wiped out when, If they had
had confidence in mo and held on,
they would bo very much better oft,
now. But they didn't, and they were
ruined and they starved and took
their boys out of college and mort-
gaged their confounded homes that
had been in thtrfr families ever since
Adam; and the old people died of
broken hearts and the girls wont
wrong and some of the idiotic quitters
killed themselves—It was not the kind
of crowd you would want shut up with
you iu the dark! I was shut up with
them. He had Bome sort of way of
switching oft! the lights from the out-
side. I never saw a face or heard a
voice. 1 would have to sit there In
the dark after he thought I had read
enough to occupy my mind. It was
unpleasant. Perhaps you suppose tluit
brought me round to his way of think-
ing?"
The colonel meditated. "I'll tell you
honestly," lie said, after a pause, "I
was of that opinion, or something of
the kind, until I talked your case over
with my aunt—"
"The old dame Is not a fool; what
did she say?"
"She said no, he didn't convert you;
but he convinced you how other peo-
ple looked at your methods. You
couldn't get round the fact that a
majority of your countrymen think
your typo of financier Is worse than
smallpox, and more contagious."
"Oh, she put it that way, did she?
I wish she would write a prospectus
for me. Well, you think she was
nearer right than you?"
"I think you do; I myself think it
was a little of both. You've got a
heart and a conscience originally,
though they have pretty well tanned
out In the weather; you didn't want
to bo sorry for those peoplo, but you
are. They have bothered you a lot;
but it has bothered you more to think
that instead of going down the ages as
a colossal benefactor and empire
builder, you are hung up on the hook
to see where you're at; and where
you will be if the people get thor-
oughly aroused. You all are building
bigger balloons when it ought to bo
you for the cyclone cellar! But you
are different. You can see ahead. 1
give you credit for seeing."
"Have you ever considered," said
Keatcham, slowly, "that in spite of the
iniquitous greed of the men you are
condemning, In .spite of their oppres-
sion of the people, the prosperity of
the country is unparalleled? How do
you explain it?'
"Crops," said the colonel; "the
crops were too big for you."
"You might give us a little credit—
your aunt does. She was here to-day;
she Is a manufacturer and she com-
prehended that the methods of busi-
ness cannot bo revolutionized with-
out somebody's getting hurt. Yet, on
the whole, the change might bo im-
mensely advantageous, Now, why
in a nutshell, do you condemn us?"
"You're after the opinion of the av-
erage man, are you?"
"I suppose so, the high average."
The colonel crossed his legs and un-
crossed them again; he looked straight
Into the other's eyes; his own nar-
rowed with thought..
"I'll tell you,' said he. "I don't
know much about the Street or high
finance or Industrial development.
I'm a plain soldier; I'm not a manu-
facturer and I'm not a speculator. I
understand perfectly that you can't
have great changes without some-
body's getting hurt in the shuffle. It
is beyond me to decide whether the
new industrial arrangements with the
stock jobber on top instead of the
manufacturer will mako for better
or for worse—but I know this: It is
against tho fundamental law to do
evil that good may come. And you
fellows In Wall street, when, to get
rich quick, you lie about stocks in
order to buy cheap and then He an-
other way to sell dear; when you
make a panic out of the whole cloth,
as you did In 1903, because, having
made about all you can out of things
going up, you want to make all you
can out of them going down; when
you play football with great railway
properties and Insurance properties,
because you are as willing to rob the
dead as the living; when you do all
that, and when your Imitators, who
haven't so much brains or so much
decency as you, when they buy up leg-
islatures and city councils; and their
imitators run tho Black Hand business
and hold people up who have money
and are not strong enough, they think,
to hunt them down—why, not being a
philosopher, but just a plain soldier,
I call it bad, rotten bad. What's more,
I can tell you the American people
won't stand for it."
"You think they can help them-
selves?"
"I know they can. You fellows are
big, but you won't last over night if
the American people got really
aroused. And tlicy are stirring in
their sleep and kicking off the bed-
clothes."
"Yet you ought to belong to tho
conservatives."
"I do. That's why the situation Is
dangerous. You as an old San Fran-
ciscan ought to remember how con-
servative was that celebrated vig-
ilance committee. It Is when tho long-
suffering, pusillanimous, conservative
element gets fighting mad that some-
thing Is doing."
"Maybe," muttered Keatcham,
thoughtfully. "I believe we can man-
age for you better than you can for
yourselves; but when the brakes are
broken good driving cant stop the
machine; all the chauffcur can do is
to keep the middle of the road. I like
to be beaten as little as any of them;
but I'm not a fool. Winter, you are
used to accomplishing things; what is
your notion of the secret?"
"Knowing when to stop exhausting
trumps, I reckon—but you don't play
cards."
"It Is the same old game whatever
you play," said the railway king. He
did not ptrrttuo tho discussion; his
questions, Winter had found, Invaria-
bly had a purpose, and that purpose
was never argument. He lay back on
the big leather cushions of the lounge,
his long, lean fingers drumming on the
table beside him and an odd smile
playing about the corners of his
mouth; his next speech dived into
new waters. He said: "Have those
men from New York got Atkins, yet?"
"They couldn't find him," answered
the colonel. "I have been having him
shadowed, on my own idea—I think
he stabbed you, though I have no
proof of it; I take It you have proof
of your matter."
"Plenty," said Keatcham. "I was
going to send him to the pen in self-
defense. It isn't safe for mo to have
it creep out that my secretary made
a fortune selliug my secrets. Besides,
I don't want to be killed. You say they
can't find him?"
"Seems to have gone to Japan—"
"Seems? What do you mean?"
"I am not. sure. He was booked for
a steamer; and a man under his name,
of his build and color, did actually
sail on the boat," announced the
colonel blandly.
"limn! He's right here in San
Francisco; read that note."
Winter read the note, written on
Palace hotel note-paper, In a sharp,
scrawling, Italian hand. Tho contents
were sufficiently startling.
"Dear friend Hoping this find you
well. Why do you disregard a true
Warning? We did write you afore
once for say you give that money or
we shal be unfortunately compel to
kill you quick. No? You laff. God
knows we got have that twenty-five
thousan dol. Yes. And now because
of such great expence it Is fifty thou-
san you shall pay. Wo did not mean
kill you dead only show you for sure
there is no place so secret you can
Hide no place so strong can defend
you. Bo Warn. You come with $50,-
000.00 in $100 bills. You go or send
Mr. Morcer to tho Red Hat; ask for
Louis. Say to Louis For the Blacb
Hand. Louis will come to you. You
will be forgive all heretobefores. Else
ways you must die April 15-20. This
Is sure. You have felt our dagger th«
other la worse.
"You well wishing Fren,
"Tho Black Hand."
"Sounds like Atkins pretending ta
be a Dago," Bald tho colonel dryly. "1
could do better myself."
"Very likely," said Keatcham-
"Does he mean business? What'i
he after?"
"To get me out of the way. Ha
knows he isn't safe until I'm dead.
Then he hasn't been cleaned out, but
j he has lost a lot of money In this
Midland business. The cipher he has
is of no use to him, there, or in the
other things which unluckily he knows
about. With me dead and the cipher
In his hands, ho could have made mil-
lions; even without the cipher, if he
knows I'm dead before the rest of the
world, he ought to make at least a
half-million. I think you will find that
he has put everything he has on the
chance. I told you ho was slick. And
unstable. What do you anticipate he
will do? Straight, with no chaser, as
you say."
"Well, straight with no chaser, I
should say a bomb was the meanest
trick In sight, so, naturally, he will
choose a bomb."
"I agreo with you. You Bay the
house is patroled?"
"The whole place. But we'll put
on a bigger force; I'll see Blrdsall at
once. Atkins would have to hire his
explosive talent, wouldn't he?" ques-
tioned tho colonel.
"Oh, ho knows plenty of the under-
world rascals; and besides, for a fel-
low of his habits, there Is a big chance
for loot. Mrs. Millicent Winter tells
me that your aunt has valuable jewels
with her. if she told me, she may
have told other people, and Atkins
may know. Ho will use other people,
but lie will come, too, in my opinion."
The Preacher's Advice.
"My friends," said an itinerant
preacher, "tho Scriptural rule for giv-
ing was one-tenth of what a man pos-
sessed. If you feel you can't afford so"
much, just give a sixth or a fourth, ao-
cording to your means. We will dis-
pense with the next hymn and take up
the collection."—Lippincott's.
Dope on Pronunciation.
Los Angeles has given to the world
tho officially correct pronunciation of
its name. The first section is pro-
nounced "Loce," as In "Was 1st los?"
The rest of It is pronounced like th«
pink stuff the manicure lady puts on
your nails.—Cleveland Leader
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Reference the current page of this Newspaper.
Davis, John E. The Texas Mesquiter. (Mesquite, Tex.), Vol. 28, No. 6, Ed. 1 Friday, August 6, 1909, newspaper, August 6, 1909; Mesquite, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth400486/m1/3/: accessed June 21, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Mesquite Public Library.