CHAPTER VII
THE DEED IN TRUST
Her little gasoline-driven car--delicate as though a jeweler had madeit--was waiting for them under the canopy beside the house, when theywent out. She delayed a moment to ask Alan to let down the windows;the sky was still clear, and the sunshine had become almost warm,though the breeze was sharp and cold. As the car rolled down thedrive, and he turned for a long look past her toward the lake, shewatched his expression.
"It's like a great shuttle, the ice there," she commented, "a monstershuttle nearly three hundred miles long. All winter it moves back andforth across the lake, from east to west and from west to east as thewinds change, blocking each shore half the time and forcing the winterboats to fight it always."
"The gulls go opposite to it, I suppose, sticking to open water."
"The gulls? That depends upon the weather. 'Sea-gull, sea-gull,'" shequoted, "'sit on the sand; It's never fair weather when you're on theland.'"
Alan started a little. "What was that?" he asked.
"That rhyme? One which the wives of the lake men teach their children.Did you remember that too?"
"After you said it."
"Can you remember the rest of it?"
"'Green to Green--Red to Red,'" Alan repeated to himself. "'Green togreen' and then something about--how is it, 'Back her--back andstopper.'"
"That's from a lake rhyme too, but another one!" she cried. "Andthat's quite a good one. It's one of the pilot rules that every lakeperson knows. Some skipper and wheelsman set them to rhyme years ago,and the lake men teach the rhymes to their children so that they'llnever go wrong with a ship. It keeps them clearer in their heads thanany amount of government printing. Uncle Benny used to say they'vesaved any number of collisions.
"Meeting steamers do not dread,"
she recited,
"When you see three lights ahead! Port your helm and show your red. For passing steamers you should try To keep this maxim in your eye, Green to Green--or Red to Red-- Perfect safety--go ahead. Both in safety and in doubt, Always keep a good lookout; Should there be no room to turn, Stop your ship and go astern."
"Now we're coming to your 'back and stopper':
"If to starboard Red appear, 'Tis your duty to keep clear; Act as judgment says is proper. Port or starboard--back or stop her! But when on your port is seen A steamer with a light of Green, There's not much for you to do-- The Green light must look out for you."
She had driven the car swiftly on the boulevard to the turn where themotorway makes west to Rush Street, then it turned south again towardthe bridge. As they reached the approach to the bridge and the carscongested there, Constance was required to give all her attention tothe steering; not until they were crossing the bridge was she able toglance at her companion's face.
To westward, on both sides of the river, summer boats were laid up,their decks covered with snow. On the other side, still nearer to thebridge, were some of the winter vessels; and, while the motor was onthe span, the bells began ringing the alarm to clear the bridge so itcould turn to let through a great steamer just in from the lake, thesun glistening on the ice covering its bows and sides back as far asAlan could see.
Forward of the big, black, red-banded funnel, a cloud of steam bellowedup and floated back, followed by another, and two deep, reverberatingblasts rumbled up the river majestically, imperiously. The shrilllittle alarm bells on the bridge jangled more nervously and excitedly,and the policeman at the south end hastily signalled the motor carsfrom the city to stop, while he motioned those still on the bridge toscurry off; for a ship desired to pass.
"Can we stop and see it?" Alan appealed, as Constance ran the car fromthe bridge just before it began to turn.
She swung the car to the side of the street and stopped; as he gazedback, he was--she knew--seeing not only his first great ship close by,but having his first view of his people--the lake men from whom now heknew from the feeling he had found within himself, and not only fromwhat had been told him, that he had come.
The ship was sheathed in ice from stem to stern; tons of the gleaming,crystal metal weighed the forecastle; the rail all round had become afrozen bulwark; the boats were mere hummocks of ice; the bridge wasencased, and from the top of the pilot house hung down giantstalactites which an axeman was chopping away. Alan could see theofficers on the bridge, the wheelsman, the lookout; he could see thespurt of water from the ship's side as it expelled with each thrust ofthe pumps; he could see the whirlpool about the screw, as slowly,steadily, with signals clanging clearly somewhere below, the steamerwent through the draw. From up the river ahead of it came the janglingof bells and the blowing of alarm whistles as the other bridges werecleared to let the vessel through. It showed its stern now; Alan readthe name and registry aloud: "'_Groton of Escanaba_!' Is that one ofyours, Miss Sherrill; is that one of yours and my--Mr. Corvet's?"
She shook her head, sorry that she had to say no. "Shall we go on now?"
The bridge was swinging shut again; the long line of motor cars, whichhad accumulated from the boulevard from the city, began slowly to move.Constance turned the car down the narrow street, fronted by warehouseswhich Alan had passed the morning before, to Michigan Avenue, with thepark and harbor to the left. When she glanced now at Alan, she sawthat a reaction of depression had followed excitement at seeing thesteamer pass close by.
Memory, if he could call it that, had given him a feeling for ships andfor the lake; a single word--_Miwaka_--a childish rhyme and story,which he might have heard repeated and have asked for a hundred timesin babyhood. But these recollections were only what those of athree-years' child might have been. Not only did they refuse toconnect themselves with anything else, but by the very finality oftheir isolation, they warned him that they--and perhaps a few morevague memories of similar sort--were all that recollection ever wouldgive him. He caught himself together and turned his thoughts to theapproaching visit to Sherrill--and his father's offices.
Observing the towering buildings to his right, he was able to identifysome of the more prominent structures, familiar from photographs of thecity. Constance drove swiftly a few blocks down this boulevard; then,with a sudden, "Here we are!" she shot the car to the curb and stopped.She led Alan into one of the tallest and best-looking of the buildings,where they took an elevator placarded "Express" to the fifteenth floor.
On several of the doors opening upon the wide marble hall where theelevator left them, Alan saw the names, "Corvet, Sherrill andSpearman." As they passed, without entering, one of these doors whichstood propped open, and he looked in, he got his first realization ofthe comparatively small land accommodations which a great businessconducted upon the water requires. What he saw within was only onelarge room, with hardly more than a dozen, certainly not a score ofdesks in it; nearly all the desks were closed, and there were not morethan three or four people in the room, and these apparentlystenographers. Doors of several smaller offices, opening upon thelarger room, bore names, among which he saw "Mr. Corvet" and "Mr.Spearman."
"It won't look like that a month from now," Constance said, catchinghis expression. "Just now, you know, the straits and all the northernlakes are locked fast with ice. There's nothing going on now exceptthe winter traffic on Lake Michigan and, to a much smaller extent, onOntario and Erie; we have an interest in some winter boats, but wedon't operate them from here. Next month we will be busy fitting out,and the month after that all the ships we have will be upon the water."
She led the way on past to a door farther down the corridor, which boremerely the name, "Lawrence Sherrill"; evidently Sherrill, who hadinterests aside from the shipping business, had offices connected withbut not actually a part of the offices of Corvet, Sherrill, andSpearman. A girl was on guard on the other side of the door; sherecognized Constance Sherrill at once and, saying that Mr. Sherrill hadbeen awaiting Mr. Conrad, she opened an inner door and led Alan into alarge, many-windowed room, where Sherrill was sittin
g alone before atable-desk. He arose, a moment after the door opened, and spoke a wordto his daughter, who had followed Alan and the girl to the door, butwho had halted there. Constance withdrew, and the girl from the outeroffice also went away, closing the door behind her. Sherrill pulledthe "visitor's chair" rather close to his desk and to his own bigleather chair before asking Alan to seat himself.
"You wanted to tell me, or ask me, something last night, my daughterhas told me," Sherrill said cordially. "I'm sorry I wasn't home whenyou came back."
"I wanted to ask you, Mr. Sherrill," Alan said, "about those facts inregard to Mr. Corvet which you mentioned to me yesterday but did notexplain. You said it would not aid me to know them; but I foundcertain things in Mr. Corvet's house last night which made me want toknow, if I could, everything you could tell me."
Sherrill opened a drawer and took out a large, plain envelope.
"I did not tell you about these yesterday, Alan," he said, "not onlybecause I had not decided how to act in regard to these matters, butbecause I had not said anything to Mr. Spearman about them previously,because I expected to get some additional information from you. Afterseeing you, I was obliged to wait for Spearman to get back to town.The circumstances are such that I felt myself obliged to talk them overfirst with him; I have done that this morning; so I was going to sendfor you, if you had not come down."
Sherrill thought a minute, still holding the envelope closed in hishand.
"On the day after your father disappeared," he went on, "but before Iknew he was gone--or before any one except my daughter felt any alarmabout him--I received a short note from him. I will show it to youlater, if you wish; its exact wording, however, is unimportant. It hadbeen mailed very late the night before and apparently at the mail boxnear his house or at least, by the postmark, somewhere in theneighborhood; and for that reason had not been taken up before themorning collection and did not reach the office until I had been hereand gone away again about eleven o'clock. I did not get it, therefore,until after lunch. The note was agitated, almost incoherent. It toldme he had sent for you--Alan Conrad, of Blue Rapids, Kansas--but spokeof you as though you were some one I ought to have known about, andcommended you to my care. The remainder of it was merely an agitated,almost indecipherable farewell to me. When I opened the envelope, akey had fallen out. The note made no reference to the key, butcomparing it with one I had in my pocket, I saw that it appeared to bea key to a safety deposit box in the vaults of a company where we bothhad boxes.
"The note, taken in connection with my daughter's alarm about him, madeit so plain that something serious had happened to Corvet, that myfirst thought was merely for him. Corvet was not a man with whom onecould readily connect the thought of suicide; but, Alan, that was theidea I had. I hurried at once to his house, but the bell was notanswered, and I could not get in. His servant, Wassaquam, has very fewfriends, and the few times he has been away from home of recent yearshave been when he visited an acquaintance of his--the head porter in aSouth Side hotel. I went to the telephone in the house next door andcalled the hotel and found Wassaquam there. I asked Wassaquam aboutthe letter to 'Alan Conrad,' and Wassaquam said Corvet had given it tohim to post early in the evening. Several hours later, Corvet had senthim out to wait at the mail box for the mail collector to get theletter back. Wassaquam went out to the mail box, and Corvet came outthere too, almost at once. The mail collector, when he came, toldthem, of course, that he could not return the letter; but Corvethimself had taken the letters and looked them through. Corvet seemedvery much excited when he discovered the letter was not there; and whenthe mail man remembered that he had been late on his previous trip andso must have taken up the letter almost at once after it was mailed,Corvet's excitement increased on learning that it was already probablyon the train on its way west. He controlled himself later enough atleast to reassure Wassaquam; for an hour or so after, when Corvet sentWassaquam away from the house, Wassaquam had gone without feeling anyanxiety about him.
"I told Wassaquam over the telephone only that something was wrong, andhurried to my own home to get the key, which I had, to the Corvethouse; but when I came back and let myself into the house, I found itempty and with no sign of anything having happened.
"The next morning, Alan, I went to the safe deposit vaults as soon asthey were open. I presented the numbered key and was told that itbelonged to a box rented by Corvet, and that Corvet had arranged aboutthree days before for me to have access to the box if I presented thekey. I had only to sign my name in their book and open the box. Init, Alan, I found the pictures of you which I showed you yesterday andthe very strange communications that I am going to show you now."
Sherrill opened the long envelope from which several thin, foldedpapers fell. He picked up the largest of these, which consisted ofseveral sheets fastened together with a clip, and handed it to Alanwithout comment. Alan, as he looked at it and turned the pages, sawthat it contained two columns of typewriting carried from page to pageafter the manner of an account.
The column to the left was an inventory of property and profits andincome by months and years, and the one to the right was a list oflosses and expenditures. Beginning at an indefinite day or month inthe year 1895, there was set down in a lump sum what was indicated asthe total of Benjamin Corvet's holdings at that time. To this, insometimes undated items, the increase had been added. In the oppositecolumn, beginning apparently from the same date in 1895, were themissing man's expenditures. The painstaking exactness of these left nodoubt of their correctness; they included items for naturaldepreciation of perishable properties and, evidently, had been workedover very recently. Upon the last sheet, the second column had beendeducted from the first, and an apparently purely arbitrary sum of twohundred thousand dollars had been taken away. From the remainder therehad been taken away approximately one hundred and fifty thousanddollars more.
Alan having ascertained that the papers contained only this account,looked up questioningly to Sherrill; but Sherrill, without speaking,merely handed him the second of the papers.... This, Alan saw, hadevidently been folded to fit a smaller envelope. Alan unfolded it andsaw that it was a letter written in the same hand which had written thesummons he had received in Blue Rapids and had made the entries in thelittle memorandum book of the remittances that had been sent to JohnWelton.
It began simply:
Lawrence--
This will come to you in the event that I am not able to carry out theplan upon which I am now, at last, determined. You will find with thisa list of my possessions which, except for two hundred thousand dollarssettled upon my wife which was hers absolutely to dispose of as shedesired and a further sum of approximately one hundred and fiftythousand dollars presented in memory of her to the Hospital Service inFrance, have been transferred to you without legal reservation.
You will find deeds for all real estate executed and complete exceptfor recording of the transfer at the county office; bonds,certificates, and other documents representing my ownership ofproperties, together with signed forms for their legal transfer to you,are in this box. These properties, in their entirety, I give to you intrust to hold for the young man now known as Alan Conrad of BlueRapids, Kansas, to deliver any part or all over to him or to continueto hold it all in trust for him as you shall consider to be to hisgreatest advantage.
This for the reasons which I shall have told to you or him--I cannotknow which one of you now, nor do I know how I shall tell it. But whenyou learn, Lawrence, think as well of me as you can and help him to becharitable to me.
With the greatest affection, BENJAMIN CORVET.
Alan, as he finished reading, looked up to Sherrill, bewildered anddazed.
"What does it mean, Mr. Sherrill?-- Does it mean that he has gone awayand left everything he had--everything to me?"
"The properties listed here," Sherrill touched the pages Alan first hadlooked at, "are in the box at the vault with the executed forms oftheir transfer to me.
If Mr. Corvet does not return, and I do notreceive any other instructions, I shall take over his estate as he hasinstructed for your advantage."
"And, Mr. Sherrill, he didn't tell you why? This is all you know?"
"Yes; you have everything now. The fact that he did not give hisreasons for this, either to you or me, made me think at first that hemight have made his plan known to some one else, and that he had beenopposed--to the extent even of violence done upon him--to prevent hiscarrying it out. But the more I have considered this, the less likelyit has seemed to me. Whatever had happened to Corvet that had so muchdisturbed and excited him lately, seems rather to have precipitated hisplan than deterred him in it. He may have determined after he hadwritten this that his actions and the plain indication of hisrelationship to you, gave all the explanation he wanted to make. Allwe can do, Alan, is to search for him in every way we can. There willbe others searching for him too now; for information of hisdisappearance has got out. There have been reporters at the officethis morning making inquiries, and his disappearance will be in theafternoon papers."
Sherrill put the papers back in their envelope, and the envelope backinto the drawer, which he relocked.
"I went over all this with Mr. Spearman this morning," he said. "He isas much at a loss to explain it as I am."
He was silent for a few moments.
"The transfer of Mr. Corvet's properties to me for you," he saidsuddenly, "includes, as you have seen, Corvet's interest in the firm of'Corvet, Sherrill and Spearman.' I went very carefully through thedeeds and transfers in the deposit box, and it was plain that, while hehad taken great care with the forms of transfer for all the properties,he had taken particular pains with whatever related to his holdings inthis company and to his shipping interests. If I make over theproperties to you, Alan, I shall begin with those; for it seems to methat your father was particularly anxious that you should take apersonal as well as a financial place among the men who control thetraffic of the lakes. I have told Spearman that this is my intention.He has not been able to see it my way as yet; but he may change hisviews, I think, after meeting you."
Sherrill got up. Alan arose a little unsteadily. The list ofproperties he had read and the letter and Sherrill's statementportended so much that its meaning could not all come to him at once.He followed Sherrill through a short private corridor, flanked withfiles lettered "Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman," into the large room hehad seen when he came in with Constance. They crossed this, andSherrill, without knocking, opened the door of the office marked, "Mr.Spearman." Alan, looking on past Sherrill as the door opened, saw thatthere were some half dozen men in the room, smoking and talking. Theywere big men mostly, ruddy-skinned and weather-beaten in look, and hejudged from their appearance, and from the pile of their hats and coatsupon a chair, that they were officers of the company's ships, idlewhile the ships were laid up, but reporting now at the offices andreceiving instructions as the time for fitting out approached.
His gaze went swiftly on past these men to the one who, half seated onthe top of the flat desk, had been talking to them; and his pulseclosed upon his heart with a shock; he started, choked withastonishment, then swiftly forced himself under control. For this wasthe man whom he had met and whom he had fought in Benjamin Corvet'shouse the night before--the big man surprised in his blasphemy ofCorvet and of souls "in Hell" who, at sight of an apparition with abullet hole above its eye, had cried out in his fright, "You got Ben!But you won't get me--damn you! Damn you!"
Alan's shoulders drew up slightly, and the muscles of his handstightened, as Sherrill led him to this man. Sherrill put his hand onthe man's shoulder; his other hand was still on Alan's arm.
"Henry," he said to the man, "this is Alan Conrad. Alan, I want you toknow my partner, Mr. Spearman."
Spearman nodded an acknowledgment, but did not put out his hand; hiseyes--steady, bold, watchful eyes--seemed measuring Alan attentively;and in return Alan, with his gaze, was measuring him.