WADE watched Stephen furtively out of the corner of his eye. To his practical mind, partisanship had its price. Self-interest had always been the paramount consideration with him, and he believed it would be so with Stephen. He had urged Virginia to act independently, but to this she would not hear; so he had brought Stephen to her.
“I wish, Mr. Wade,” it was Virginia who spoke. “I wish you would tell Stephen what it is we have discovered, I think you can make it clearer to him than I can.”
Stephen turned to Wade in mute surprise. He had not understood why his aunt had sent for him.
“Certainly, if you wish it, Mrs. Landray.” Stephen had the uneasy feeling that something not entirely pleasant was about to happen. Wade began by telling briefly of the papers Reddy had sent.
“Now, Steve,” he said, “there was just one curious fact that the examination of these papers revealed. Among the properties described was a certain tract of land. Mrs. Landray knew about this land, that her husband and your grandfather had accepted it from a man by the name of Levi Tucker in part payment for property in the town here. Your aunt knew of this first transaction; but her husband's memorandum shows that there must have been a subsequent transfer by Tucker. The first transaction was for a thousand acres, the second was for the same acreage. This land your aunt accepted in the division of the estate when your grandmother married a second time. She supposed she was getting a thousand acres, the records show that she actually received two thousand acres. This land she held for a number of years, but finally at Mr. Benson's instigation, sold it. That is, to the best of her knowledge she sold a thousand acres. The records tell quite another story. She deeded away two thousand and some odd acres.”
At first Stephen had hardly comprehended the drift of Ben's explanation. Now he wheeled on him with quick anger.
“What do you mean to insinuate, Wade!” he demanded.
“Hold on, Steve—” began Wade steadily.
“Don't Steve me!” cried the younger man hotly. “We are not friends after this.”
“That may be as it may be,” said Wade grimly, the colour creeping into his sallow cheeks; “but you will have to hear me out, Lan-dray. Not because it concerns me in the least, but because it is a matter that vitally concerns your aunt. I didn't suppose you'd like to hear what I'm going to say. In your place, I shouldn't.”
Stephen told Wade curtly to go on; he avoided looking in Virginia's direction. He wished to spare her the knowledge of the bitterness of his feeling toward her. But Wade's level voice broke the painful silence, he had carefully marshalled his facts, for while he believed he knew just the stand Stephen would take, for the sake of the case itself he wished to make the points very clear to him; then if he desired to break violently with his aunt, so much the better, she would have a double motive for wishing to go on with the suit.
He held Stephen with his eyes as he piled up the evidence against Benson, and Landray's face went red and white by turns, for as he warmed to his task, Wade's arraignment of the old lawyer became more and more incisive and vicious. He dwelt almost passionately on Virginia's trust and confidence in Benson, and then he told of the sale of the land, of the pittance she had received for it, and of Benson's subsequent transaction with Southerland.
“And I've copies of the records, Steve, properly attested by the County Clerk, you can compare the dates.” He took the papers from his pocket, and tossed them on the table. Hardly knowing why he did it, Stephen took them up with shaking hands.
“There is some mistake,” he said, but his voice was strange even to himself.
“I think not, Steve,” said Wade smoothly. “Can you point it out?”
Virginia said nothing. She was watching Stephen's face, but his eyes were turned resolutely from her, he would not meet her glance, and her heart sank. Did it mean, that right or wrong, he would cast his lot with Benson!
“I want to look over these papers myself,” said Stephen gruffly, and he spread them out on the table before him. “No, I don't want your help;” for Wade had made as if to draw up a chair.
Rebuffed, Ben withdrew to the window. The young fellow would have a bad quarter of an hour while he mastered the facts contained in those papers, and he was conscious of a sense of placid satisfaction at the thought. Stephen pored over the papers with burning eyes; their legal phrasing obscured their real significance at first, but in the end he was able to grasp the facts that Wade wanted him to grasp, the number of acres, and the dates of the various transfers.
“Well?” he said, glancing up, and turning toward Wade.
“Your aunt supposed she was selling one thousand acres. Am I right, Mrs. Landray?”
“Yes,” said Virginia, but her eyes dwelt yearningly on her nephew, though he still avoided her gaze.
“She received five thousand dollars for the land. Mr. Benson was more fortunate. He received fifty thousand dollars for it. Look at the dates, you will see that not two weeks elapsed between the two transactions.”
“But here, what about this man Stark?” asked Stephen, catching at a straw.
“Stark was merely used as a decoy, your aunt never saw him. That his name appears only makes the evidence of premeditated fraud the stronger.”
Stephen winced at the word.
“You saw the original—” he was at a loss for the right word.
“The original entries, yes.” Wade's voice was hard and emotionless, but it rang with a triumph he could not wholly repress or deny himself.
“And you are sure that they correspond in every particular—the dates I mean—with those given in the copies?” asked Stephen.
“Those copies are correct in every particular,” said Wade shortly.
“Well, what does it mean!”
“It means, Steve, that Mr. Benson tricked your aunt out of forty-five thousand dollars by a most inartistic swindle. It means also, that he bargained for a thousand acres, and took two.”
“I don't believe it!” cried the young man hoarsely. “There is some mistake, it is impossible!”
0445
“Not unless dates and figures lie, Steve.”
“Have you seen Uncle Jake?”
“Not yet, there is plenty of time for that,” and Wade smiled evilly.
“He can probably explain the whole thing away.”
“Will you go to him for an explanation?” demanded Wade eagerly. He would have liked that, it would probably finish Stephen with the old lawyer, and force him to side with his aunt.
“I? What do you take me for?” exclaimed Stephen, and his face was white. “Do you think I'd so grossly insult him, do you suppose for one minute I could doubt him—I, of all people, when he has conferred nothing but benefits on me all my life long!”
“According to my figures there is still something due you in the shape of cash,” said Wade coldly. “Your father's interest in that thousand acres.”
“Well, what does that amount to?”
“Very little, I grant you, Landray, but your aunt is not related to Mr. Benson as you are; she does not feel under any special obligations to him, she considers that she has been defrauded out of a large sum of money by him. That, you must admit, is a serious matter to her; a matter she can't well ignore.”
“And what are you going to do?” asked Stephen in a dry-throated whisper.
“If Mrs. Landray will take my advice, she will sue Mr. Benson.”
Stephen looked helplessly from one to the other.
“You are all wrong!” he burst out almost entreatingly. “I'd stake my life on it! You'll find you have no case; but think of the humiliation to him, the opportunity for mean-souled envy to smirch a great reputation!”
Wade shrugged his shoulders.
“He'll have a chance to clear his reputation in the courts, he'll come out spotless if he is spotless.”
“Go to him first!” urged Stephen. “Ask him to look over these papers with you. Why, probably a word from him will explain the whole thing, and make it clear as day.”
“Will you do that, Landray?” then he turned to Virginia. “You are quite willing he should discuss this question with Mr. Benson?”
“Yes.”
But Stephen drew back from this.
“I've told you it is impossible for me to bring it to his notice.”
“I mean in the most delicate way you can, not formally as a direct charge reflecting on his honesty. Look here, Stephen, it's only fair to yourself that you should hear from his own lips what he has to say. There is no haste, you'd better think it over, I don't doubt that you can bring the thing to his notice with less offence than another.”
“But if Stephen feels as he does,” began Virginia. She did not like the manner in which Wade was forcing the matter upon him.
“No, no, Aunt Virginia, it's right enough. If you are in doubt on these points, they should be made plain to you. I am sure Uncle Jake will be ready and anxious to explain, for his own sake as well as yours.”
But Virginia was not so sure of this; her conception of Benson's character being quite different from Stephen's. The Benson she had known and liked and trusted had died long ago, and in his place stood a hard, tyrannical man, a man she confessed she did not know, but feared. He had sacrificed Stephen Landray; and he had taken from her Stephen Landray's son. She owned to the bitterest feeling toward him, she wanted to see him despoiled and published to the world for what he was. She had no mercy for him. He had done the Landrays a monstrous evil, and it was right that he should suffer. Her code was simple and severe.
She put no faith in those possible benefits that might come to Stephen if he remained friendly with him. She did not believe for one moment that Benson had ever, or even now expected to do for Stephen in any large way. At best the benefits he conferred smacked of charity and gifts, the boy's character was being destroyed by his indulgence. But if they could only recover this money, it would give him a start in life of which he need not be shamed, for it was the Landray money, and time and circumstance had wonderfully increased it.
The loss of Stephen's affection and respect she believed would be but a slight matter to Benson; certainly the boy's father had loved him once, and he had quickly parted with him, and apparently without even a passing regret; it would be the same with this Stephen. As for the disgrace, the shame of exposure, she knew the world too well to suppose that the world's manifestation of scorn would ever touch Benson; the tangible evidence of his power and riches were too apparent for that; whatever men might feel in secret, they would not falter in the external show of respect; they would still need and desire his help and countenance in their affairs. She did not even believe that Benson himself would suffer. That he could have done this thing, argued to her an utter and astonishing depravity. She remembered that at the very time when he had bought the land, he had not ceased to declare his love for her. She flushed hotly at the recollection. If she could only make Stephen understand his duty as she saw his duty, all would be well with him. There would again be a Landray fortune, the family would again step into its old place of importance in the community, and the young fellow before her would be the same sort of a man his grandfather and her husband had been. She thought with bitterness of his father, and his pathetic failures; and her eyes filled with tears.
But Wade wished to arrive at some definite conclusion. If suit was to be brought, he wanted to know it soon.
“See here, Landray,” he said, “you can't decide at once; the matter can rest for a day or so, if Mrs. Landray is willing, while you make up your mind.”
Stephen glanced at Virginia. He was incapable of feeling any very great sympathy for her just then, but he wanted to spare Benson if he could. The mere suspicion they had been seeking to implant in his mind seemed as insulting as it was untenable. That there was any foundation for it, except what might have arisen out of the loss of some papers or through some stupid blunder, was too absurd for him to even entertain. He did not doubt Benson's ability to fully vindicate himself. Now he grudgingly admitted that he might furnish such an opportunity with less offence than another, certainly he did not want Wade to go to him. Wade was too assertive, too sure of his ground, too sure of Benson's trickery. Mentally he sought to frame the question with all the delicacy, the vagueness, he could wish. He quitted his chair by the table.
“I'll let you know in a day or two, whether or not I can tell Uncle Jake of this, Aunt Virginia.” He ignored Wade. He was willing to think that the lawyer might be solely responsible for the situation.
“Wait,” said Wade, “I am going your way, if you will have it.” He was determined not to be snubbed or affronted, and as soon as they were out of the house he said kindly and with an air of good-natured remonstrance that Stephen could not well resist. “Look here, Steve, you can't act this way with me. I won't have it. You've got to be reasonable. I've been your friend, and I'm bound to remain your friend. I'm your aunt's lawyer though, and she's got a right to expect me to take an interest in her concerns. If she hasn't me, whom has she? Not you, certainly; and you must just bear this in mind, it's an important matter to her, for if there's, any chance of getting thirty or forty thousand dollars out of Benson, she can't afford to let it pass, particularly as the money's hers. Don't you see this?”
“Yes, I suppose so; but, Ben, this whole thing's absurd, why, you know that Uncle Jake could not have done anything of this kind, it's just some mistake.”
“Well, if it is, he can best explain it away,” said Wade encouragingly. “I pledge you my word I spent a good deal of time in trying to find the mistake, but it baffles me. Still you never can tell,” he added cheerfully.
“I'd stake my life on it that he never wronged anyone—man, woman, or child!” cried Stephen.
“Ask him about it,” urged Wade. “I swear I'd like to see him stand clear. I'm no harpy; ask him, Steve.”
“I'd like to, that is I feel it's my duty to, but don't you see, I'm afraid of hurting him; I'm bound to him by numberless kindnesses.”
“Of course you are, and you can put the matter to him without offence,” said Wade soothingly.
“If I only thought I could!” said Stephen. “If I only thought I could!”
“Now, if I went to him—” began Wade meditatively.
“You—you mustn't!” interposed Stephen shortly.
“No, I suppose not. He might freeze up with me, and I wouldn't stand for that. After all, I'm your aunt's lawyer, and my dignity's my client's. If I go to him, I'll exact what's due me; it's not a personal matter; really, I have every reason to like Mr. Benson.” He seemed so reasonable, so charitable, that Stephen's heart warmed toward him, as Wade intended it should. “I think you are counting on his being rather more sensitive than he is, Steve. He's been in active practice for a great many years, and disagreeable things are always cropping up. Just ask him about it offhand, in no formal way you understand, but make it clear to him what we have stumbled on. I agree with you that he should have every chance to explain we don't want to rush into litigation that is going to make us appear absurd; for I tell you when we really fall foul of Mr. Benson it's going to stir up a hornet's nest, it'll shake things loose!”
“You mustn't count on me,” said Stephen. “It's not that I'd be making a sacrifice, the sacrifice would be nothing in itself, but I can't hurt him.”
“I understand exactly how you feel. I don't want to see you get yourself involved; but I do think that you are the best person to bring this to his notice.”
But Wade had no illusions concerning Benson. The explanation he was urging Stephen to invite, he knew could explain nothing; but it might bring about a rupture with Benson, and then Virginia would have every motive for beginning suit at once; and Wade saw himself on the threshold of a great career, his plodding shyster days at an end.
