The arrival of Fitz in a cab at the police-station half an hour later—just time enough for me to run all the way to his office—the bailing out of the Colonel much against his protest, his consent being gained only when Fitz and I assured him that such things were quite within the limit of our judicial code, and that no stain on his honor would or could ensue from any such relief; the Colonel’s formal leave-taking of the Captain, the Sergeant and the Turnkey, each of whom he thanked impressively for the courtesies they had shown him; our driving—the Colonel and I—post-haste to Bedford Place, lest by any means Chad might have heard of the affair and so be frightened half out of his wits; the calm indifference of that loyal darky when he ushered us into the hall and heard the Colonel’s statement, and Chad’s sententious comment: “In de Calaboose, Colonel! Well, fo’ Gawd! what I tell ye ’bout dis caanin’ bis’ness. Got to git dem barkers ready jes’ I tol’ ye; dat’s de only thing dat’ll settle dis muss,”—these and other incidents of the day equally interesting form connecting links in a story which has not only become part of the history of the Carter family but which still serve as delightful topics whenever the Colonel’s name is mentioned by his many friends in the Street.

More important things, however, than the arrest and bailing out of the Colonel were taking place in the Street. One of those financial bombs which are always lying around loose—a Pacific Mail, or Erie, or N. P.—awaiting some fool-match to start it, sailed out from its hiding-place a few minutes before the Exchange closed—while Fitz was bailing out the Colonel, in fact—hung for an instant trembling in mid-air, and burst into prominence with a sound that shook the Street to its foundations. In five minutes the floor of the Exchange was a howling mob, the brokers fighting, tearing, yelling themselves hoarse. Money went up to one per cent and legal interest over night, and stocks that had withstood every financial assault for years tottered, swayed and plunged headlong. Into the abyss fell Consolidated Smelting. Not only were the ten points of the day’s rise wiped out, but thirty points besides. Shares that at the opening sold readily at 55 went begging at 30. Klutchem and his backers were clinging to the edges of the pit with ruin staring them in the face, and Fitz was sailing over the crater thousands of dollars ahead of his obligations.

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The following morning another visitor—a well-dressed man with a diamond pin in his scarf—walked up and down Fitz’s office awaiting his arrival—a short, thick-set, large-paunched man with a heavy jaw, a straight line of a mouth, two little restless eyes wobbling about in a pulp of wrinkles, flabby cheeks, a nose that was too small for the area it failed to ornament, and a gray stubbly beard shaven so closely at its edges that it looked as if its owner might either wear it on his chin or put it in his pocket at his pleasure.

“Down yet?” asked the visitor in a quick, impatient voice.

“Not yet, Mr. Klutchem. Take a seat.” Then the clerk passed his hand over his face to straighten out a rebellious smile and hid his head in the ledger.

“I’ll wait,” retorted the banker, and stepping inside Fitz’s private office he settled himself in a chair, legs apart, hands clasped across his girth.

Fitz entered with an air that would have carried comfort to the Colonel’s soul—with a spring, a breeze, a lightness; a being at peace with all the world; and best of all with a self-satisfied repose that was in absolute contrast to the nervousness of the day before.

“Who?” he asked of his clerk.

“Klutchem.”

“Where?”

The clerk pointed to the office door.

Fitz’s face straightened out and grew suddenly grave, but he stepped briskly into his sanctum and faced his enemy.

“Well, what is it, Mr. Klutchem?”

Before his visitor opened his mouth, Fitz saw that the fight was all out of the Head Centre of Consolidated Smelting. A nervous, conciliatory smile started from the line of Klutchem’s mouth, wrinkled the flesh of his face as far as his cheeks, and died out again.

“We got hit pretty bad yesterday, Fitzpatrick, and I thought we might as well talk it over and see if we couldn’t straighten out the market.”

“Then it isn’t about Colonel Carter?” said Fitz coldly.

He had all the Consolidated he wanted and didn’t see where Klutchem could be of the slightest use in straightening out anything.

“I’ll attend to him later,” replied Klutchem, and a curious expression overspread his face. “You heard about it, then?”

“Heard about it! I bailed him out. If you wanted to lock anybody up why didn’t you get after some one who knew the ropes, not a man like the Colonel who never had a dishonest thought in his head and who is as tender-hearted as a child.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” flared Klutchem. “He came down with a cock-and-bull story and wanted me to take——”

“I know the whole story, every word of it. He came down to offer you every dollar of his interest in a scheme that is as real to him as if the bonds were selling on the Exchange at par. They are all he has in the world, and if some miracle should occur and they should be worth their face value he would never touch a penny of the proceeds if he was starving to death, because of the promise he made you. And in my interest, too, not his own, and all for love of me, his friend.”

“But it was only a letter from a concern offering to print——”

“Certainly. And across it he had written his name—both, I grant you, not worth the paper they were written on. But why didn’t you have the decency to humor the dear old fellow as we all do, and treat him with the same courtesy with which he treated you, instead of insulting him by throwing the letter in his face. You’ll excuse me, Mr. Klutchem, when I say it gets me pretty hot when I think of it. I don’t blame him for cracking you over the head, and neither would you, if you understood him as I do.”

Klutchem looked out of the window and twisted his thumbs for an instant as if in deep thought. The outcome of the interview was of the utmost importance to him, and he did not want anything to occur which would prejudice his case with the broker. Fitz sat in front of him, bent forward, his hands on his knees, his eyes boring into Klutchem’s.

Then a puzzled, and strange to say what appeared to be a more kindly expression broke over Klutchem’s face.

“I guess I was rough, but I didn’t mean it, really. You know how it was yesterday—regular circus all day. I wouldn’t have made the charge at the police-station—for he didn’t hurt me much—if the policeman hadn’t compelled me. And then don’t forget, this isn’t the first time I’ve come across him. He came to my house once when I was laid up with the gout, and——”

“Yes,” interrupted Fitz, “I haven’t forgotten it, and what did he come for? To apologize, didn’t he? I should have thought you’d have seen enough of him at that time to know what kind of a man he was. Down here in the Street we’ve got to put things down on paper and we don’t trust anybody. We don’t understand the kind of a man whose word is literally as good as his bond, and who, to help any man he calls his friend, would spend his last cent and go hungry the balance of his life. I’ve lived round here a good deal in my time and I’ve seen all kinds of men, but the greatest compliment I ever had paid me in my life was when the Colonel offered you yesterday the scrap of paper that you threw back in his face.”

As Fitz talked on Klutchem’s tightly knit brows began to loosen. He hadn’t heard such things for a good many years. Life was a scramble and devil take the hindermost with him. If anybody but Fitz—one of the level-headed men in the Street—had talked to him thus, he might not have paid attention, but he knew Fitz was sincere and that he spoke from his heart. The still water at the bottom of the banker’s well—the water that was frozen over or sealed up, or so deep that few buckets ever reached it—began to be stirred. His anxiety over Consolidated only added another length to the bucket’s chain.

“Fitzpatrick, I guess you’re right. What ought I to do?”

“You ought to go up to his house this very day and beg his pardon, and then wipe out that idiotic charge you made at the police-station.”

“I will, Fitzpatrick.”

“You will?”

“Yes.”

“There’s my hand. Now bring out your Consolidated Smelting, and I’ll do what’s decent.”

At four o’clock that same day Fitz, with Mr. Klutchem beside him, swung back the wicket-gate of the tunnel, traversed its gloom, crossed the shabby yard piled high with snow heaped up by Chad’s active shovel, and rapped at the front door of the little house.

The Colonel was in his chair by the fire. I had just told him the good news, and he and I were sampling a fresh bottle of the groceryman’s Madeira in celebration of the joyous turn in Fitz’s affairs, when Chad with eyes staring from his head announced:

“Misser Klutchem and Misser Fitzpatrick.”

What the old darky thought was coming I do not know, but I learned afterwards, that as soon as he had closed the door behind the visitors, he mounted the stairs three steps at a time, grabbed up the case of pistols from his master’s dressing-table, pulled the corks from their mouths, and hurrying down laid the case and its contents on the hall table to be ready for instant use.

The announcement of Klutchem’s name brought the Colonel to his feet as straight as a ramrod.

“It’s all right, Colonel,” said Fitz, noting the color rise in his friend’s face. “Mr. Klutchem and I have settled all our differences. He has just offered me a barrel of Consolidated, and at my own price. That fight’s all over, and I bear him no grudge. As to yourself, he has come up to tell you how sorry he is for what occurred yesterday, and to make any reparation to you in his power.”

Klutchem had not intended to go so far as that, and he winced a little under Fitz’s allusion to the “barrel,” but he was in for it now, and would follow Fitz’s lead to the end. Then again, the papers in the Consolidated matter would not be signed until the morning.

“Yes, Carter, I’m sorry. Fact is, I misunderstood you. I was very busy, you remember, and I’m sorry, too, for what occurred at the police-station; that, however, you know I couldn’t help.”

The omission of the Virginian’s title scraped the skin from the Colonel’s amour propre, but the words “I’m sorry” coming immediately thereafter healed the wound.

The military bearing of our host began to relax.

“And you have come here with my friend Mr. Fitzpatrick to tell me this?”

“I have.”

“And you intended no reflection on my honor when you—when you—handed me back my secu’ities?”

“No, I didn’t. The stuff wasn’t our kind, you know. If I had stopped to hear what you had to say I’d——”

“Let it all pass, suh. I accept yo’ apology in the spirit in which it was given, suh. As to my imprisonment, that is a matter which is not of the slightest consequence. We soldiers are accustomed to these inconveniences, suh. It is part of the fortunes of war. Take that chair, Mr. Klutchem, and let my servant relieve you of yo’ coat and hat.”

The promptness with which that individual answered to his name left no doubt in my mind that that worthy defender of the Colonel’s honor had been standing ready outside the door, which had been left partly open for the purpose, his hand on the knob.

“Yes, sah. I heard ye, Colonel.”

“And, Chad, bring some glasses for the gentlemen.”

Klutchem settled his large frame in the chair that had been vacated by the Colonel, and watched the glass being slowly filled from a decanter held in his host’s own hands. Fitz and I retired to the vicinity of the sideboard, where he gave me in an undertone an account of the events of the morning.

“Got a nice box of a place here, Colonel,” remarked Mr. Klutchem. He remembered the title this time—the surroundings had begun to tell upon him. “Cost you much?” and the broker’s eyes roamed about the room, taking in the big mantel, the brass andirons, India blue china and silver candlesticks.

“A mere trifle, suh,” said the Colonel, stiffening. The cost of things were never mentioned in this atmosphere. “To associate bargain and sale with the appointments of yo’ household is like puttin’ yo’ hospitality up at auction,” he would frequently say.

“A mere trifle, suh,” he repeated. “My estates, as you probably know, are in Virginia, near my ancestral town of Caartersville. Are you familiar with that part of the country, suh?”

And thereupon, on the banker’s expressing his entire ignorance of Fairfax County and its contiguous surroundings, the Colonel, now that his honor as a duellist had been satisfied by Klutchem’s apologies; his friend’s ruin averted by the banker’s generosity, as was attested by his offering Fitz a barrel full of securities which the day previous were worth their weight in gold; and especially because this same philanthropist was his guest, at once launched forth on the beauty of his section of the State. In glowing terms he described the charms of the river Tench; the meadows knee-deep in clover; the mountains filled with the riches of the Orient looming up into the blue; the forests of hardwood, etc., etc., and all in so persuasive and captivating a way that the practical banker, always on the lookout for competent assistants, made a mental memorandum to consult Fitz in the morning on the possibility of hiring the Colonel to work off an issue of State bonds which at the moment were dead stock on his hands.

By this time Klutchem, warmed by his host’s Madeira and cheery fire, had not only become really interested in the man beside him, but had lost to a certain extent something of his blunt Wall Street manner and hard commercial way of looking at things. It was, therefore, not surprising to either Fitz or myself, who had watched the gradual adjustment of the two men, to hear the Colonel, who had now entirely forgotten all animosity towards his enemy say to Klutchem with great warmth of manner, and with the evident intention of not being outdone in generosity at such a time:

“I would like to show you that gaarden, suh. Perhaps some time I may have the pleasure of entertainin’ you in my own home at Caartersville.”

Mr. Klutchem caught his breath. He saw the Colonel was perfectly sincere, and yet he could not but admit the absurdity of the situation. Invited to visit the private estate of a man who had caned him the day before, and against whom he was expected in the morning to make a complaint of assault and battery!

“Oh, that’s mighty kind, Colonel, but I guess you’ll have to excuse me.”

The banker, as he spoke, glanced at Fitz. He didn’t want to do anything to offend Fitz—certainly not until the papers in the Consolidated Smelting settlement were complete and the documents signed—and yet he didn’t see how he could accept.

“But I won’t take no for an answer, suh. Miss Caarter will be here in a day or two, and I will only be too happy to discuss with her the date of yo’ visit.”

Before Klutchem could refuse again Fitz stepped forward, and, standing over Mr. Klutchem’s chair, dug his knuckles into the broker’s back. The signal was unmistakable.

“Well, thank you, Colonel. I’ll speak to my daughter about it, and if——”

“Yo’ daughter, suh? Then I am sure the last obstacle is removed. Miss Caarter will be mo’ than delighted, suh, to entertain her, too. I will ascertain my aunt’s plans as soon as she arrives, and will let you know definitely when she will be best p’epared for yo’ entertainment.”

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When the party broke up, and Fitz and Mr. Klutchem had been helped on with their coats by Chad, Klutchem remarked to Fitz as we all walked through the tunnel:

“Queer old party, Fitzpatrick; queerest I ever saw. You were right—not a crooked hair in his head. Glad I came. Of course I can’t go down to his place—haven’t got the time—but I bet you he’d be glad to see me if I did. Funny, too—poor as a rat and busted, and yet he never said ‘Garden Spots,’ once.”

On my re-entering the house,—Fitz had gone on with Klutchem—Chad, who was waiting for me, took me into a corner of the hall and said in a voice filled with disappointment:

“What I tell ye, Major? Ain’t dat too bad? I ain’t never gwine ter forgib de Colonel for lettin’ him git away. Gor-A-Mighty! Did ye see de size of him—hardly git frough de gate! Why, der warn’t no chance o’ missin’ him. Colonel could a-filled him ful o’ holes as a sieve.”

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