"Strong, Strong," said Amidon musingly. "The author, I believe, by the notes?"

"I never said she was!" protested the judge. "Not positively, but only----"

"Well, let's go down--or perhaps I had better go alone," said Florian.

"Please come down in an hour or so, won't you?"

The judge noted for the first time the decision of returning confidence in Amidon's manner. Two things contributed to this: the first was the sense of something tangible and intelligible in this going down to business in the morning like an ordinary American; and the other was rising anger at the attack made on him by this man Stevens in the street last night. What sort of discipline can there be in the business, thought he, when an employee dares use such language toward his employer? A good towering pa.s.sion is a great steadier of the nerves, sometimes. He walked into the counting-room, saw his name and the word "Private" on the gla.s.s of a certain door, went boldly beyond it, and was followed by a young woman with a note-book and pencil.

Presently, in came Mr. Stevens without knocking.

"Here's another pretty how-de-do!" he exclaimed, without any greeting except an angry snort. "You promised to sign that contract for the output of the Bunn's Ferry wells while you were in New York, and didn't! The papers are back with a notice that the deal is off except at a lower price. How'm I to make anything of this business, I'd like to know, if you----"

Amidon was surprised that Stevens was ignoring his threat to resign; but he was firm in his resolution to enforce discipline. The fact that he himself had been so long in a state of fear and under control, made the luxury of a.s.suming the att.i.tude of command an irresistible temptation.

"Mr. Stevens," said he sternly, "have the kindness to read what is painted on that door!"

Though he had no need, Mr. Stevens gazed in astonishment at the word "Private."

"Kindly ask Mr. Alderson to step here a moment," went on Mr. Amidon.

Stevens stood mute, but Alderson overheard and came.

"You may draw Mr. Stevens a salary check to date, and a month in advance, in lieu of notice," said Mr. Amidon. "Mr. Stevens, you are no longer in the employ of this concern. Mr. Alderson, you may take charge until a successor to Mr. Stevens is found. I should now regard it as a favor if I might have my private office to myself and my stenographer!"

Alderson took the paralyzed Stevens by the shoulders and walked him out into the main office. Amidon's spirits rose, as he waited for the check to come in for his signature. He stabbed his letters with the paper-knife, and felt in a blissful state of general insurrection. The subjection of the past fortnight seemed to fall from him. After he had signed the check, he turned to Miss Strong.

"If you please," said he, in a voice of tense stridency, "I will give you a few letters."

The stenographer, who seemed to regard the events of the past few minutes as nothing short of a cataclysm, flutteringly leafed over her book, and just as Amidon began wondering what he could think of to put into a letter, she burst into tears. Amidon closed his desk with a bang, and giving Alderson orders covering his absence, walked out into the streets, full of the joy of gratified destructiveness. He met Alvord, and temerariously agreed to go with him to the lodge that evening. He finally found Blodgett, and informed him of what had been the result of his first morning in the office.

"Well, it's your business, Florian," said he, "but you'll need somebody who knows something about your affairs. And if you go on attending lodge meetings where you don't know the pa.s.swords, and nosing into houses where you don't intend to go, and discharging all the trusted men in your employ, you'll soon have more things to attend to than a couple of mesmerists and an elderly lawyer can take care of! But it's your affair; I've known you too long to try to turn you when you get one of your tantrums on. The smash-up ought to be worth seeing, anyhow!"

XIII

THE MARTYRDOM OF MR. STEVENS

_Pietro_: Th' offense, it seemeth me, Is one that by mercy's extremest stretch Might be o'erpa.s.sed.

_Cosimo_: Never, Pietro, never!

The Brotherhood's honour untouchable Is touch'd thereby. We build our labyrinth Of sacred words and potent spells, and all The deep-involved horrors of our craft-- Its entrance hedg'd about with dreadful oaths, And every step in thridding it made dank By dripping terror and out-seeping awe.

Shall it be said that e'en Ludovico May break our faith and live? Never, say I!

--_Vision of Cosimo_.

The Bellevale lodge of the Ancient Order of Christian Martyrs held its meetings in the upper story of a tall building. Mr. Alvord called for Amidon at eight, and took him up, all his boldness in the world of business replaced by wariness in the atmosphere of mystery. As he and his companion went into an anteroom and were given broad collars from which were suspended metal badges called "jewels," he felt a good deal like a spy. They walked into the lodgeroom where twenty-five or thirty men with similar "jewels" sat smoking and chatting. All seemed to know him, but (much to his relief) before he could be included in the conversation, the gavel fell; certain ones with more elaborate "jewels"

and more ornate collars than the rest took higher-backed and more highly upholstered chairs at the four sides of the room, another stood at the door; and still another, in complete uniform, with sword and belt, began hustling the members to seats.

"The Deacon Militant," said the wielder of the gavel, "will report if all present are known and tested members of our Dread and Mystic Conclave."

"All, Most Sovereign Pontiff," responded the Deacon Militant, who proved to be the man in the uniform, "save certain strangers who appear within the confines of our sacred basilica."

"Let them be tested," commanded the Sovereign Pontiff, "and, if brethren, welcomed; if spies, executed!"

Amidon started, and looked about for aid or avenue of escape. Seeing none, he warily watched the Deacon Militant. That officer, walking in the military fashion which, as patristic literature teaches, was adopted by the early Christians, and turning square corners as was the habit of St. Paul and the Apostles, received whispered pa.s.swords from the two or three strangers, and, with a military salute, announced that all present had been put to the test and welcomed. Then, for the first time remembering that he was not among the strangers, so far as known to the lodge, Amidon breathed freely, and rather regretted the absence of executions.

"Bring forth the Mystic Symbols of the Order!" was the next command.

The Mystic Symbols were placed on a stand in the middle of the room, and turned out to be a gilt fish about the size of a four-pound ba.s.s, a jar of human bones, and a rolled-up scroll said to contain the Gospels.

The fish, as explained by the Deacon Militant, typified a great many things connected with early Christianity, and served always as a reminder of the pa.s.sword of the order. The relics in the jar were the bones of martyrs. The scroll was the Book of the Law. Amidon was becoming impressed: the solemn and ornate ritual and the dreadful symbols sent shivers down his inexperienced and unfraternal spine.

Breaking in with uninitiated eyes, as he had done, now seemed more and more a crime.

There was an "Opening Ode" which was so badly sung as to mitigate the awe; and an "order of business" solemnly gone through. Under the head "Good of the Order" the visiting brethren spoke as if it were a cla.s.s-meeting and they giving "testimony," one of them very volubly reminding the a.s.sembly of the great principles of the order, and the mighty work it had already accomplished in ameliorating the condition of a lost and wandering world. Amidon felt that he must have been very blind in failing to note this work until it was thus forced on his notice; but he made a mental apology.

"By the way, Bra.s.sfield," said Mr. Slater during a recess preceding the initiation of candidates, "you want to give Stevens the best you've got in the Catacombs scene. Will you make it just straight ritual, or throw in some of those specialties of yours?"

"Stevens! Catacombs!" gasped Amidon, "specialties! I----"

"I wish you could have been here when I was put through," went on Mr.

Slater. "I don't see how any one but a professional actor, or a person with your dramatic gifts, can do that part at all--it's so sort of ripping and--and intense, you know. I look forward to your rendition of it with a good deal of pleasurable antic.i.p.ation."

"You don't expect me to do it, do you?" asked Amidon.

"Why, who else?" was the counter-question. "We can't be expected to play on the bench the best man in Pennsylvania in that part, can we?"

"Come, Bra.s.sfield," said the Sovereign Pontiff, "get on your regalia for the Catacombs. We are about to begin."

"Oh, say, now!" said Amidon, trying to be off-hand about it, "you must get somebody else."

"What's that! Some one else? Very likely we shall! Very likely!"

thus the Sovereign Pontiff with fine scorn. "Come, the regalia, and no nonsense!"

"I--I may be called out at any moment," urged Amidon, amidst an outcry that seemed to indicate a breach with the Martyrs then and there.

"There are reasons why----"

Edgington took him aside. "Is there any truth in this story," said he, "that you have had some trouble with Stevens, and discharged him?"

"Oh, that Stevens!" gasped Amidon, as if the whole discussion had hinged on picking out the right one among an army of Stevenses. "Yes, it's true, and I can't help confer this----"

Edgington whispered to the Sovereign Pontiff; and the announcement was made that in the Catacombs scene Brother Bra.s.sfield would be excused and Brother Bulliwinkle subst.i.tuted.

"I know I never, in any plane of consciousness, saw any of this, or knew any of these things," thought Florian. "It is incredible!"

Conviction, however, was forced on him by the fact that he was now made to don a black domino and mask, and to march, carrying a tin-headed spear, with a file of similar figures to examine the candidate, who turned out to be the discharged Stevens, sitting in an anteroom, foolish and apprehensive, and looking withal much as he had done in the counting-room. He was now asked by the leader of the file, in a sepulchral tone, several formal questions, among others whether he believed in a Supreme Being. Stevens gulped, and said "Yes." He was then asked if he was prepared to endure any ordeal to which he might be subjected, and warned that unless he possessed nerves of steel, he had better turn back--for which measure there was yet time. Stevens, in a faint voice, indicated that he was ready for the worst, and desired to go on. Then all (except Amidon) in awesome accents intoned, "Be brave and obedient, and all may yet be well!" and they pa.s.sed back into the lodge-room. Amidon was now thoroughly impressed, and wondered whether Stevens would be able to endure the terrible trials hinted at.

Clad in a white robe "typifying innocence," and marching to minor music played upon a piano, Stevens was escorted several times around the darkened room, stopping from time to time at the station of some officer, to receive highly improving lectures. Every time he was asked if he were willing to do anything, or believed anything, he said "Yes."

Finally, with the Scroll of the Law in one hand, and with the other resting on the Bones of Martyrs, surrounded by the brethren whose drawn swords and leveled spears threatened death, he repeated an obligation which bound him not to do a great many things, and to keep the secrets of the order. To Amidon it seemed really awful--albeit somewhat florid in style; and when Alvord nudged him at one pa.s.sage in the obligation, he resented it as an irreverence. Then he noted that it was a pledge to maintain the sanct.i.ty of the family circle of brother Martyrs, and Alvord's reference of the night before to the obligation as affecting his a.s.sociation with the "strawberry blonde" took on new and fearful meaning.

Stevens seemed to be vibrating between fright and a tendency to laugh, as the voice of some well-known fellow citizen rumbled out from behind a deadly weapon. He was marched out, to the same minor music, and the first act was ended.