Within the Law: From the Play of Bayard Veiller Read online

  CHAPTER IV. KISSES AND KLEPTOMANIA.

  "Hello, Dad!"

  After the attorney's departure, Gilder had been rather fussily goingover some of the papers on his desk. He was experiencing a vague feelingof injury on account of the lawyer's ill-veiled efforts to arouse hissympathy in behalf of the accused girl. In the instinct of strengtheninghimself against the possibility of yielding to what he deemed weakness,the magnate rehearsed the facts that justified his intolerance, and,indeed, soon came to gloating over the admirable manner in whichrighteousness thrives in the world. And it was then that an interruptioncame in the utterance of two words, words of affection, of love, criedout in the one voice he most longed to hear--for the voice was that ofhis son. Yet, he did not look up. The thing was altogether impossible!The boy was philandering, junketing, somewhere on the Riviera. Hisfirst intimation as to the exact place would come in the form of a cableasking for money. Somehow, his feelings had been unduly stirred thatmorning; he had grown sentimental, dreaming of pleasant things.... Allthis in a second. Then, he looked up. Why, it was true! It was Dick'sface there, smiling in the doorway. Yes, it was Dick, it was Dickhimself! Gilder sprang to his feet, his face suddenly grown younger,radiant.

  "Dick!" The big voice was softened to exquisite tenderness.

  As the eyes of the two met, the boy rushed forward, and in the nextmoment the hands of father and son clasped firmly. They were silent inthe first emotion of their greeting. Presently, Gilder spoke, with aneffort toward harshness in his voice to mask how much he was shaken.But the tones rang more kindly than any he had used for many a day,tremulous with affection.

  "What brought you back?" he demanded.

  Dick, too, had felt the tension of an emotion far beyond that of theusual things. He was forced to clear his throat before he answeredwith that assumption of nonchalance which he regarded as befitting theoccasion.

  "Why, I just wanted to come back home," he said; lightly. A suddenrecollection came to give him poise in this time of emotionaldisturbance, and he added hastily: "And, for the love of heaven, giveSadie five dollars. I borrowed it from her to pay the taxi'. You see,Dad, I'm broke."

  "Of course!" With the saying, Edward Gilder roared Gargantuan laughter.In the burst of merriment, his pent feelings found their vent. Hewas still chuckling when he spoke, sage from much experience of oceantravel. "Poker on the ship, I suppose."

  The young man, too, smiled reminiscently as he answered:

  "No, not that, though I did have a little run in at Monte Carlo. But itwas the ship that finished me, at that. You see, Dad, they hired CaptainKidd and a bunch of pirates as stewards, and what they did to littleRichard was something fierce. And yet, that wasn't the real trouble,either. The fact is, I just naturally went broke. Not a hard thing to doon the other side."

  "Nor on this," the father interjected, dryly.

  "Anyhow, it doesn't matter much," Dick replied, quite unabashed. "Tellme, Dad, how goes it?"

  Gilder settled himself again in his chair, and gazed benignantly on hisson.

  "Pretty well," he said contentedly; "pretty well, son. I'm glad to seeyou home again, my boy." There was a great tenderness in the usuallyrather cold gray eyes.

  The young man answered promptly, with delight in his manner of speech,and a sincerity that revealed the underlying merit of his nature.

  "And I'm glad to be home, Dad, to be"--there was again that clearing ofthe throat, but he finished bravely--"with you."

  The father avoided a threatening display of emotion by an abrupt changeof subject to the trite.

  "Have a good time?" he inquired casually, while fumbling with the paperson the desk.

  Dick's face broke in a smile of reminiscent happiness.

  "The time of my young life!" He paused, and the smile broadened. Therewas a mighty enthusiasm in his voice as he continued: "I tell you, Dad,it's a fact that I did almost break the bank at Monte Carlo. I'd havedone it sure, if only my money had held out."

  "It seems to me that I've heard something of the sort before," wasGilder's caustic comment. But his smile was still wholly sympathetic. Hetook a curious vicarious delight in the escapades of his son, probablybecause he himself had committed no follies in his callow days. "Whydidn't you cable me?" he asked, puzzled at such restraint on the part ofhis son.

  Dick answered with simple sincerity.

  "Because it gave me a capital excuse for coming home."

  It was Sarah who afforded a diversion. She had known Dick while he wasyet a child, had bought him candy, had felt toward him a maternal likingthat increased rather than diminished as he grew to manhood. Now, herface lighted at sight of him, and she smiled a welcome.

  "I see you have found him," she said, with a ripple of laughter.

  Dick welcomed this interruption of the graver mood.

  "Sadie," he said, with a manner of the utmost seriousness, "you arelooking finer than ever. And how thin you have grown!"

  The girl, eager with fond fancies toward the slender ideal, accepted thecompliment literally.

  "Oh, Mr. Dick!" she exclaimed, rapturously. "How much do you think Ihave lost?"

  The whimsical heir of the house of Gilder surveyed his victimcritically, then spoke with judicial solemnity.

  "About two ounces, Sadie."

  There came a look of deep hurt on Sadie's face at the flippant jest,which Dick himself was quick to note.

  He had not guessed she was thus acutely sensitive concerning herplumpness. Instantly, he was all contrition over his unwitting offenseinflicted on her womanly vanity.

  "Oh, I'm sorry, Sadie," he exclaimed penitently. "Please don't be reallyangry with me. Of course, I didn't mean----"

  "To twit on facts!" the secretary interrupted, bitterly.

  "Pooh!" Dick cried, craftily. "You aren't plump enough to be sensitiveabout it. Why, you're just right." There was something very boyish abouthis manner, as he caught at the girl's arm. A memory of the days whenshe had cuddled him caused him to speak warmly, forgetting the presenceof his father. "Now, don't be angry, Sadie. Just give me a little kiss,as you used to do." He swept her into his arms, and his lips met hersin a hearty caress. "There!" he cried. "Just to show there's no illfeeling."

  The girl was completely mollified, though in much embarrassment.

  "Why, Mr. Dick!" she stammered, in confusion. "Why, Mr. Dick!"

  Gilder, who had watched the scene in great astonishment, now interposedto end it.

  "Stop, Dick!" he commanded, crisply. "You are actually making Sarahblush. I think that's about enough, son."

  But a sudden unaccustomed gust of affection swirled in the breast ofthe lad. Plain Anglo-Saxon as he was, with all that implies as to theavoidance of displays of emotion, nevertheless he had been for along time in lands far from home, where the habits of impulsive andaffectionate peoples were radically unlike our own austerer forms. Sonow, under the spur of an impulse suggested by the dalliance with thebuxom secretary, he grinned widely and went to his father.

  "A little kiss never hurts any one," he declared, blithely. Then headded vivaciously: "Here, I'll show you!"

  With the words, he clasped his arms around his father's neck, and,before that amazed gentleman could understand his purpose, he had kissedsoundly first the one cheek and then the other, each with a hearty,wholesome smack of filial piety. This done, he stood back, still beaminghappily, while the astounded Sarah tittered bewilderedly. For his ownpart, Dick was quite unashamed. He loved his father. For once, he hadexpressed that fondness in a primitive fashion, and he was glad.

  The older man withdrew a step, and there rested motionless, under thesway of an emotion akin to dismay. He stood staring intently at his sonwith a perplexity in his expression that was almost ludicrous. When, atlast, he spoke, his voice was a rumble of strangely shy pleasure.

  "God bless my soul!" he exclaimed, violently. Then he raised a hand, andrubbed first one cheek, and after it its fellow, with a gentleness thatwas significant. The feeling provoked by the embrace showed
plainly inhis next words. "Why, that's the first time you have kissed me, Dick,since you were a little boy. God bless my soul!" he repeated. And nowthere was a note of jubilation.

  The son, somewhat disturbed by this emotion he had aroused, neverthelessanswered frankly with the expression of his own feeling, as he advancedand laid a hand on his father's shoulder.

  "The fact is, Dad," he said quietly, with a smile that was good to see,"I am awfully glad to see you again."

  "Are you, son?" the father cried happily. Then, abruptly his mannerchanged, for he felt himself perilously close to the maudlin in this newyielding to sentimentality. Such kisses of tenderness, however agreeablein themselves, were hardly fitting to one of his dignity. "You clear outof here, boy," he commanded, brusquely. "I'm a working man. But here,wait a minute," he added. He brought forth from a pocket a neat sheaf ofbanknotes, which he held out. "There's carfare for you," he said with achuckle. "And now clear out. I'll see you at dinner."

  Dick bestowed the money in his pocket, and again turned toward the door.

  "You can always get rid of me on the same terms," he remarked slyly. Andthen the young man gave evidence that he, too, had some of his father'sability in things financial. For, in the doorway he turned with a finalspeech, which was uttered in splendid disregard for the packet of moneyhe had just received--perhaps, rather, in a splendid regard for it. "Oh,Dad, please don't forget to give Sadie that five dollars I borrowed fromher for the taxi'." And with that impertinent reminder he was gone.

  The owner of the store returned to his labors with a new zest, for themeeting with his son had put him in high spirits. Perhaps it might havebeen better for Mary Turner had she come to him just then, while hewas yet in this softened mood. But fate had ordained that other eventsshould restore him to his usual harder self before their interview. Theeffect was, indeed, presently accomplished by the advent of Smithsoninto the office. He entered with an expression of discomfiture on hisrather vacuous countenance. He walked almost nimbly to the desk andspoke with evident distress, as his employer looked up interrogatively.

  "McCracken has detained--er--a--lady, sir," he said, feebly. "She hasbeen searched, and we have found about a hundred dollars worth of laceson her."

  "Well?" Gilder demanded, impatiently. Such affairs were too common inthe store to make necessary this intrusion of the matter on him. "Whydid you come to me about it?" His staff knew just what to do withshoplifters.

  At once, Smithson became apologetic, while refusing to retreat.

  "I'm very sorry, sir," he said haltingly, "but I thought it wiser, sir,to--er--to bring the matter to your personal attention."

  "Quite unnecessary, Smithson," Gilder returned, with asperity. "You knowmy views on the subject of property. Tell McCracken to have the thiefarrested."

  Smithson cleared his throat doubtfully, and in his stress of feelinghe even relaxed a trifle that majestical erectness of carriage that hadmade him so valuable as a floor-walker.

  "She's not exactly a--er--a thief," he ventured.

  "You are trifling, Smithson," the owner of the store exclaimed, in highexasperation. "Not a thief! And you caught her with a hundred dollarsworth of laces that she hadn't bought. Not a thief! What in heaven'sname do you call her, then?"

  "A kleptomaniac," Smithson explained, retaining his manner of mildinsistence. "You see, sir, it's this way. The lady happens to be thewife of J. W. Gaskell, the banker, you know."

  Yes, Gilder did know. The mention of the name was like a spell in theeffect it wrought on the attitude of the irritated owner of the store.Instantly, his expression changed. While before his features had beenset grimly, while his eyes had flashed wrathfully, there was now onlyannoyance over an event markedly unfortunate.

  "How extremely awkward!" he cried; and there was a very real concernin his voice. He regarded Smithson kindly, whereat that rather pulinggentleman once again assumed his martial bearing. "You were quiteright in coming to me." For a moment he was silent, plunged in thought.Finally he spoke with the decisiveness characteristic of him. "Ofcourse, there's nothing we can do. Just put the stuff back on thecounter, and let her go."

  But Smithson had not yet wholly unburdened himself. Instead ofimmediately leaving the room in pursuance of the succinct instructionsgiven him, he again cleared his throat nervously, and made known afurther aggravating factor in the situation.

  "She's very angry, Mr. Gilder," he announced, timidly. "She--er--shedemands an--er--an apology."

  The owner of the store half-rose from his chair, then threw himself backwith an exclamation of disgust. He again ejaculated the words with whichhe had greeted his son's unexpected kisses, but now there was a vastdifference in the intonation.

  "God bless my soul!" he cried. From his expression, it was clear that apious aspiration was farthest from his thought. On the contrary! Again,he fell silent, considering the situation which Smithson had presented,and, as he reflected, his frown betrayed the emotion natural enoughunder the circumstances. At last, however, he mastered his irritation tosome degree, and spoke his command briefly. "Well, Smithson, apologizeto her. It can't be helped." Then his face lighted with a sardonicamusement. "And, Smithson," he went on with a sort of elephantineplayfulness, "I shall take it as a personal favor if you will tactfullyadvise the lady that the goods at Altman and Stern's are really evenfiner than ours."

  When Smithson had left the office, Gilder turned to his secretary.

  "Take this," he directed, and he forthwith dictated the following letterto the husband of the lady who was not a thief, as Smithson had sopainstakingly pointed out:

  "J. W. GASKELL, ESQ.,

  "Central National Bank, New York.

  "MY DEAR Mr. GASKELL: I feel that I should be doing less than my duty asa man if I did not let you know at once that Mrs. Gaskell is in urgentneed of medical attention. She came into our store to-day, and----"

  He paused for a moment. "No, put it this way," he said finally:

  "We found her wandering about our store to-day in a very nervouscondition. In her excitement, she carried away about one hundreddollars' worth of rare laces. Not recognizing her, our store detectivedetained her for a short time. Fortunately for us all, Mrs. Gaskell wasable to explain who she was, and she has just gone to her home. Hopingfor Mrs. Gaskell's speedy recovery, and with all good wishes, I am,

  "Yours very truly."

  Yet, though he had completed the letter, Gilder did not at once take upanother detail of his business. Instead, he remained plunged in thought,and now his frown was one of simple bewilderment. A number of minutespassed before he spoke, and then his words revealed distinctly what hadbeen his train of meditation.

  "Sadie," he said in a voice of entire sincerity, "I can't understandtheft. It's a thing absolutely beyond my comprehension."

  On the heels of this ingenuous declaration, Smithson entered the office,and that excellent gentleman appeared even more perturbed than before.

  "What on earth is the matter now?" Gilder spluttered, suspiciously.

  "It's Mrs. Gaskell still," Smithson replied in great trepidation. "Shewants you personally, Mr. Gilder, to apologize to her. She says that theaction taken against her is an outrage, and she is not satisfied withthe apologies of all the rest of us. She says you must make one,too, and that the store detective must be discharged for intolerableinsolence."

  Gilder bounced up from his chair angrily.

  "I'll be damned if I'll discharge McCracken," he vociferated, glaring onSmithson, who shrank visibly.

  But that mild and meek man had a certain strength of pertinacity.Besides, in this case, he had been having multitudinous troubles ofhis own, which could be ended only by his employer's placating of theoffended kleptomaniac.

  "But about the apology, Mr. Gilder," he reminded, speaking verydeferentially, yet with insistence.

  Business instinct triumphed over the magnate's irritation, and his facecleared.

  "Oh, I'll apologize," he said with a wry smile of discomfiture. "I'llmake things eve
n up a bit when I get an apology from Gaskell. I shrewdlysuspect that that estimable gentleman is going to eat humble pie, of mybaking, from his wife's recipe. And his will be an honest apology--whichmine won't, not by a damned sight!" With the words, he left the room, inhis wake a hugely relieved Smithson.

  Alone in the office, Sarah neglected her work for a few minutes to broodover the startling contrast of events that had just forced itself on herattention. She was not a girl given to the analysis of either persons orthings, but in this instance the movement of affairs had come close toher, and she was compelled to some depth of feeling by the two aspectsof life on which to-day she looked. In the one case, as she knew it, agirl under the urge of poverty had stolen. That thief had been promptlyarrested, finally she had been tried, had been convicted, had beensentenced to three years in prison. In the other case, a woman of wealthhad stolen. There had been no punishment. A euphemism of kleptomania hadbeen offered and accepted as sufficient excuse for her crime. A politelie had been written to her husband, a banker of power in the city. Toher, the proprietor of the store was even now apologizing in courteousphrases of regret.... And Mary Turner had been sentenced to three yearsin prison. Sadie shook her head in dolorous doubt, as she again bentover the keys of her typewriter. Certainly, some happenings in thisworld of ours did not seem quite fair.