"That has got nothing to do with it," replied Jefferson warmly. He resented Shirley's name being dragged into the discussion. Then more calmly he went on: "Now, mother, be reasonable, listen. I purpose to live my own life. I have already shown my father that I will not be dictated to, and that I can earn my own living. He has no right to force this marriage on me. There has never been any misunderstanding on Kate's part. She and I understand each other thoroughly."

"Well, Jefferson, you may be right from your point of view,"

replied his mother weakly. She invariably ended by agreeing with the last one who argued with her. "You are of age, of course. Your parents have only a moral right over you. Only remember this: it would be foolish of you to do anything now to anger your father.

His interests are your interests. Don't do anything to jeopardize them. Of course, you can't be forced to marry a girl you don't care for, but your father will be bitterly disappointed. He had set his heart on this match. He knows all about your infatuation for Miss Rossmore and it has made him furious. I suppose you've heard about her father?"

"Yes, and it's a dastardly outrage," blurted out Jefferson. "It's a d.a.m.nable conspiracy against one of the most honourable men that ever lived, and I mean to ferret out and expose the authors. I came here to-day to ask father to help me."

"You came to ask your father to help you?" echoed his mother incredulously.

"Why not?" demanded Jefferson. "Is it true then that he is selfishness incarnate? Wouldn't he do that much to help a friend?"

"You've come to the wrong house, Jeff. You ought to know that.

Your father is far from being Judge Rossmore's friend. Surely you have sense enough to realize that there are two reasons why he would not raise a finder to help him. One is that he has always been his opponent in public life, the other is that you want to marry his daughter."

Jefferson sat as if struck dumb. He had not thought of that. Yes, it was true. His father and the father of the girl he loved were mortal enemies. How was help to be expected from the head of those "interests" which the judge had always attacked, and now he came to think of it, perhaps his own father was really at the bottom of these abominable charges! He broke into a cold perspiration and his voice was altered as he said:

"Yes, I see now, mother. You are right." Then he added bitterly: "That has always been the trouble at home. No matter where I turn, I am up against a stone wall--the money interests. One never hears a glimmer of fellow-feeling, never a word of human sympathy, only cold calculation, heartless reasoning, money, money, money! Oh, I am sick of it. I don't want any of it. I am going away where I'll hear no more of it."

His mother laid her hand gently on his shoulder.

"Don't talk that way, Jefferson. Your father is not a bad man at heart, you know that. His life has been devoted to money making and he has made a greater fortune than any man living or dead. He is only what his life has made him. He has a good heart. And he loves you--his only son. But his business enemies--ah! those he never forgives."

Jefferson was about to reply when suddenly a dozen electric bells sounded all over the house.

"What's that?" exclaimed Jefferson, alarmed, and starting towards the door.

"Oh, that's nothing," smiled his mother. "We have had that put in since you went away. Your father must have just come in. Those bells announce the fact. It was done so that if there happened to be any strangers in the house they could be kept out of the way until he reached the library safely."

"Oh," laughed Jefferson, "he's afraid some one will kidnap him?

Certainly he would be a rich prize. I wouldn't care for the job myself, though. They'd be catching a tartar."

His speech was interrupted by a timid knock at the door.

"May I come in to say good-bye?" asked a voice which they recognized as Kate's. She had successfully escaped from Mr.

Bagley's importunities and was now going home with the Senator.

She smiled amiably at Jefferson and they chatted pleasantly of his trip abroad. He was sincerely sorry for this girl whom they were trying to foist on him. Not that he thought she really cared for him, he was well aware that hers was a nature that made it impossible to feel very deeply on any subject, but the idea of this ready-made marriage was so foreign, so revolting to the American mind! He thought it would be a kindness to warn her against Bagley.

"Don't be foolish, Kate," he said. "I was not blind just now in the library. That man is no good."

As is usual when one's motives are suspected, the girl resented his interference. She knew he hated Mr. Bagley and she thought it mean of him to try and get even in this way. She stiffened up and replied coldly:

"I think I am able to look after myself, Jefferson. Thanks, all the same."

He shrugged his shoulders and made no reply. She said good-bye to Mrs. Ryder, who was again immersed in her tradespeople bills, and left the room, escorted by Jefferson, who accompanied her downstairs and on to the street where Senator Roberts was waiting for her in the open victoria. The senator greeted with unusual cordiality the young man whom he still hoped to make his son-in-law.

"Come and see us, Jefferson," he said. "Come to dinner any evening. We are always alone and Kate and I will be glad to see you."

"Jefferson has so little time now, father. His work and--his friends keep him pretty busy,"

Jefferson had noted both the pause and the sarcasm, but he said nothing. He smiled and the senator raised his hat. As the carriage drove off the young man noticed that Kate glanced at one of the upper windows where Mr. Bagley stood behind a curtain watching.

Jefferson returned to the house. The psychological moment had arrived. He must go now and confront his father in the library.

CHAPTER IX

The library was the most important room in the Ryder mansion, for it was there that the Colossus carried through his most important business deals, and its busiest hours were those which most men devote to rest. But John Burkett Ryder never rested. There could be no rest for any man who had a thousand millions of dollars to take care of. Like Macbeth, he could sleep no more. When the hum of business life had ceased down town and he returned home from the tall building in lower Broadway, then his real work began. The day had been given to mere business routine; in his own library at night, free from inquisitive ears and prying eyes, he could devise new schemes for strengthening his grip upon the country, he could evolve more gigantic plans for adding to his already countless millions.

Here the money Moloch held court like any king, with as much ceremony and more secrecy, and having for his courtiers some of the most prominent men in the political and industrial life of the nation. Corrupt senators, grafting Congressmen, ambitious railroad presidents, insolent coal barons who impudently claimed they administered the coal lands in trust for the Almighty, unscrupulous princes of finance and commerce, all visited this room to receive orders or pay from the head of the "System."

Here were made and unmade governors of States, mayors of cities, judges, heads of police, cabinet ministers, even presidents. Here were turned over to confidential agents millions of dollars to overturn the people's vote in the National elections; here were distributed yearly hundreds of thousands of dollars to grafters, large and small, who had earned it in the service of the "interests."

Here, secretly and unlawfully, the heads of railroads met to agree on rates which by discriminating against one locality in favour of another crushed out compet.i.tion, raised the cost to the consumer, and put millions in the pockets of the Trust. Here were planned tricky financial operations, with deliberate intent to mislead and deceive the investing public, operations which would send stocks soaring one day, only a week later to put Wall Street on the verge of panic. Half a dozen suicides might result from the coup, but twice as many millions of profits had gone into the coffers of the "System." Here, too, was perpetrated the most heinous crime that can be committed against a free people--the conspiring of the Trusts abetted by the railroads, to arbitrarily raise the prices of the necessaries of life--meat, coal, oil, ice, gas--wholly without other justification than that of greed, which, with these men, was the unconquerable, all-absorbing pa.s.sion. In short, everything that unscrupulous leaders of organized capital could devise to squeeze the life blood out of the patient, defenceless toiler was done within these four walls.

It was a handsome room, n.o.ble in proportions and abundantly lighted by three large and deeply recessed, mullioned windows, one in the middle of the room and one at either end. The lofty ceiling was a marvellously fine example of panelled oak of Gothic design, decorated with gold, and the shelves for books which lined the walls were likewise of oak, richly carved. In the centre of the wall facing the windows was a ma.s.sive and elaborately designed oak chimney-piece, reaching up to the ceiling, and having in the middle panel over the mantel a fine three-quarter length portrait of George Washington. The room was furnished sumptuously yet quietly, and fully in keeping with the rich collection of cla.s.sic and modern authors that filled the bookcases, and in corners here and there stood pedestals with marble busts of Shakespeare, Goethe and Voltaire. It was the retreat of a scholar rather than of a man of affairs.

When Jefferson entered, his father was seated at his desk, a long black cigar between his lips, giving instructions to Mr. Bagley.

Mr. Ryder looked up quickly as the door opened and the secretary made a movement forward as if to eject the intruder, no matter who he might be. They were not accustomed to having people enter the sanctum of the Colossus so unceremoniously. But when he saw who it was, Mr. Ryder's stern, set face relaxed and he greeted his son amiably.

"Why, Jeff, my boy, is that you? Just a moment, until I get rid of Bagley, and I'll be with you."

Jefferson turned to the book shelves and ran over the t.i.tles while the financier continued his business with the secretary.

"Now, Bagley. Come, quick. What is it?"

He spoke in a rapid, explosive manner, like a man who has only a few moments to spare before he must rush to catch a train. John Ryder had been catching trains all his life, and he had seldom missed one.

"Governor Rice called. He wants an appointment," said Mr. Bagley, holding out a card.

"I can't see him. Tell him so," came the answer, quick as a flash.

"Who else?" he demanded. "Where's your list?"

Mr. Bagley took from the desk a list of names and read them over.

"General Abbey telephoned. He says you promised--"

"Yes, yes," interrupted Ryder impatiently, "but not here. Down town, to-morrow, any time. Next?"

The secretary jotted down a note against each name and then said:

"There are some people downstairs in the reception room. They are here by appointment."

"Who are they?"

"The National Republican Committee and Sergeant Ellison of the Secret Service from Washington," replied Mr. Bagley.

"Who was here first?" demanded the financier.