CHAPTER XXI.
Life is so complicated a game that the devices of skill are liable to be defeated at every turn by air-blown chances incalculable as the descent of thistledown.--GEORGE ELIOT'S _Romola_.
During Jack's visit to her father's office, Nina passed the time indesultory shopping until she met him on King Street.
"I need not ask what your success was," said she, smiling, as she joinedhim. "Your face shows that clearly enough."
"Nothing less than a dook," groaned Jack, good-humoredly. "He seems tothink they can be had at auction sales in England."
"I am glad he refused," said Nina, "because his consent would delay mywhims. We have done our duty in asking him, and now I am going to marryyou to-morrow, Jack."'
"To-morrow?"
"Yes, I am afraid, dear Jack, that if I allowed the marriage to be putoff till next week or longer you might change your mind." She gave Jacka look that disturbed thought. Affection toward him on her part wassomething so new that this, together with her startling announcement,made it difficult for him accurately to distinguish his head from hisheels.
"But I can not leave the bank at a moment's notice."
"No; but you can get your holidays a week sooner. You were going to takethem in a week."
"Had we not better wait, then, for the week to expire?"
"Fiddlesticks! Don't you see that I want to give you a chance? What I am_really_ afraid of is that I shall change my own mind. Father said onlyyesterday he was thinking of taking me to England at once. If you don'twant to take your chances you can take your consequences instead."
It did not seem anything new or strange to Jack that she should give alittle stamp of her foot imperiously, and in all the willfulness of aspoiled child determine suddenly upon carrying out a whim in spite ofany objections. And Jack needed no great force of argument to push himon in this matter. His head was throbbing with excitement. To think ofthe bank was habitual to him; but the wildness of the new move commendeditself to his young blood. The holidays were a mere matter ofarrangement, for the most part, between the clerks, and he thought hesaw his way to arranging for a fortnight's absence. "I'll make it allright," he said, thinking aloud. "I will arrange it with Sappy."
Whether "Sappy" was the bank manager or a fellow-clerk did not at themoment interest Nina.
"Why, Nina, I didn't know you were a person to go in for anything halfso wild. It suits me. It will be the spree of my life! But how have youarranged everything? or have you arranged anything?"
"Oh, there is nothing very much to arrange. I know you can not leave thebank finally without giving due notice. So we will just go off now andget married, and when you come back, after a week or so, you can givethe usual notice and then we will go to California. If your brotherthere wants you to go into the grape-farming he must know well enoughthat you have better chances there than here in the bank, and if, afterall, the business there did not get on well, I dare say father will havechanged his mind by that time."
"And how will you account for your absence from home?"
"Nothing simpler," said she, with a sagacious toss of her head. "I amjust telegraphing to Sophronia B. Hopkins at Lockport, New York. Youremember Sophronia B., when she was with us? I have telegraphed that Iam coming to see her. She will answer to say 'Come along'; and then Iwill put her off for a couple of weeks and tell her to keep any lettersforwarded for me from here until I come."
Jack was astonished. "I thought your head was only valuable as anornament," said he, with affectionate rudeness.
"I have never, with you, had occasion to use it before. To-morrow, athalf-past seven in the morning, you will take the train for Hamilton. Iwill take the 9.30 and we will go through to Buffalo together, where wewill arrive about two o'clock, and then we can be married there and goWest. But we need not arrange anything more now. You will be at theCampbells' to-night, and anything further can be spoken about there. Gooff now to the bank and get everything ready. And, by the way,Jack"--here she held out her hand as if for good-by--while she asked,with what seemed to Jack an almost unimaginable coquetry and beauty,"you won't change your mind, dear Jack?" She gave him one glance fromunder her sweeping eyelashes, and then she left him to grope his way tothe bank.
She thought, as she walked along, "I think I have read somewhere that'whom the gods wish to take they first drive mad,' or something likethat. It is just as well, as Geoffrey suggested, to keep Jack slightlyinsane to-day. It will prevent him from thinking my proposal strange.Poor Jack! To-day he would give me his right arm as a present. Howshabbily I have treated him, and how well he has always behaved!"
About eleven on the following forenoon, Jack was waiting in thedining-room of the Hamilton railway station, looking out through thewindow to see Nina's train come in. He thought it better to escapeobservation in this way. Nor did Nina indulge in looking out the windowof the Pullman. Everything had been fully arranged, and as the bridgetrain moved out of the station, Jack left his obscure post ofobservation and hastily passed through the crowd on the station and goton board the "smoker" in front. When clear of Hamilton he made his wayback through the cars to the drawing-room car, where he found Nina, whowas beginning to look a little anxious for his arrival.
The train took nearly two hours to trundle along to the bridge. For atime they talked together, but Nina was feeling the reaction of theexcitement of getting away. She had had a good deal to do, and she didnot feel that going away with Jack would prevent her from enjoying afairly comfortable nap in the large swinging arm-chairs. She soon dozedoff, and Jack, who was pleased to see her rest, walked to the end of thecar and back again to calm his nerves. This sort of thing was new tohim. He had a novel with him, but he could not read it. His "only bookswere woman's looks" to-day. Other people's adventures seemed poor to himjust now, in comparison with his own.
While thus moving about restlessly he became a little interested in anelderly gentleman, evidently a clergyman, who was sitting unobtrusivelybehind a copy of the Detroit Church Herald. He passed this retiringperson several times, in loitering about, and then, seeing him with hispaper laid down beside him, stopped and said cheerfully:
"Got the car all to ourselves to-day."
"Yes," said the grave-looking person, with an American accent. "Andpleasant, too, on a warm day like this. It's worth the extra quarter toget out from among the crying babies and orange-peel and come in hereand travel comfortably. Going far?"
"Only as far as Buffalo," said Jack, taking a seat beside him, for wantof anything better to do.
"That is where I reside."
"Ah, indeed!" said Jack. "You make Buffalo the scene of your officialduties?"
The other nodded. "I have been for a visit to Detroit, and now I amgoing back to relieve my superior in the church, so that he may take aholiday also. I think we clergy need a holiday as much as any otherpeople I ever saw. Do you know Buffalo at all?"
"Never was there in my life," said Jack.
"Humph! Well, it ain't a bad place, Buffalo, when you know the peoplewell. I have only been there five years, but I have found in ourcongregation some real nice folks. Of course, mine is the EpiscopalChurch, and I have generally found the Episcopalians, in my sojourningsin different places, to be the superior people of the locality."
From the compliment to the Episcopalians it was evident that theclergyman had no doubt Jack belonged to that aristocratically inclinedsect, and Jack smiled at his friend's shrewdness, forgetting the factthat "Church of England--mild, acquiescent, and gentlemanly"--waswritten all over him, and that the cut of his clothes, the shape of hiswhisker, the turn of his head when listening, and even the solidity ofhis utility-first boots made it almost impossible for any person tosuppose he belonged to any other denomination.
"I have heard," Jack said, "that the Buffalo people, many of them, havelots of money, and that they give freely to the churches. I supposemoney is an element in a congregation which gentlemen of your calling donot object to?"
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p; It seemed to Jack that the long gray eyes of the minister smiled at thispoint more because he thought he was expected to smile than from anysense of mirth. He was a grave man, who, behind a dignified reserve,seemed capable of taking in a great deal at a glance.
"No one can deny the power of money," he said. "But, though there is agood deal of it in St. James's Church, what with a paid choir, and thechurch debt, and repairs, and the new organ, and the paying of mysuperior in office, I can tell you there is not very much left for theperson who plays second fiddle, as one may say."
"Ah!" said Jack sympathetically.
"When a man has a wife and a growing family to support and bring up in alarge city, and prices away up, twelve hundred dollars a year don't go avery great ways, young man, and if it were not for our perquisites someof us would find it difficult to make both ends of the string meetaround the parcel we have got to carry."
Jack was becoming slightly interested in this man and was wondering whathis previous history was. He wondered that his new acquaintance had notmade more money than he seemed to possess. There was something behindhis grave immobility of countenance that suggested ability of some sort,he did not know what. His slightly varying expressions of countenancedid not always seem to appear spontaneously, but to be placed there by adirecting intelligence that first considered what expression would bethe right one. It seemed like a peculiar mannerism which might inanother man be the result of a slightly sluggish brain.
They conversed with each other all the way to the bridge, and althoughthe dignified reserve of the clergyman never quite thawed out, Jackbegan to rather like him and be interested in his large fund ofinformation about the United States and anecdotes of frontier life inCalifornia, where as a youth he had had a varied experience.
Their baggage was examined by the customs officer on the American sideof the bridge, and the clergyman noticed a monogram in silver on Nina'sshopping-bag, "N. L.," and the initials "J. C." on Jack's valises, andcame to the conclusion from Jack's studied attentions to Nina when sheawoke that, if the young couple were not married yet, it was quite timethey were; and no doubt it entered the clerical mind that there might bea marriage fee for himself to come out of the little acquaintance. Inview of this he renewed the conversation himself after the car went onby the New York Central toward Buffalo. Jack introduced the Rev. MatthewSimpson to Nina, and he made the short run to Buffalo still shorter withamusing stories of clerical life, ending up with one about his ownmarriage, which was not the less interesting on account of its being arunaway match and the fact that he had never regretted it. Jack feltthat behind this elderly man's dignity there was a heart that understoodthe world and knew what young people were. So he told a short story onhis account, which did not seem to surprise the reverend gentleman agreat deal, and it was arranged that he should perform the ceremony forthem at the hotel. On arriving in Buffalo they left their luggage at thestation, intending to go on to Cleveland at four o'clock. On the way upMain Street, Mr. Simpson pointed out St. James's Church--a largeedifice, partly covered with ivy--and also showed the parsonage where helived. He urged them to wait and be married in the church, but Ninashunned the publicity of it and pleaded their want of time.
Jack and Nina had some dinner at the Genesee House, while Mr. Simpsongot the marriage license ready. As luck would have it, Mr. Simpsonhimself issued marriage licenses, which, as he explained, also assistedhim to eke out his small income; and as soon as they had had a hurriedlunch, they all retired to a private parlor and the marriage ceremonywas performed very quietly.
Two waiters were called in as witnesses, and it was arranged that ontheir return to Buffalo in a few days, they could call at the parsonageand then sign the church register, for which there was now no timebefore the four o'clock train left for Cleveland. The license wasproduced, filled out, and signed in due form, and on the large red sealwere stamped the words, "Matthew Simpson, Issuer of Marriage Licenses."The presence of the stamp showed that he was a duly authorized person,and satisfied Jack that in employing a chance acquaintance he was notmaking any mistake.
They were glad when the ceremony was finished, and Jack was verypleasant with Mr. Simpson. They all got into the cab again, and rattledoff toward the station. As they came near the parsonage of St. James'sChurch, Mr. Simpson said he thought he would go as far as the suburbswith them in their train to see how some people in the hospital weregetting on. He said he would get down, now, at the parsonage, because hewished to take something with him to one of the patients, but that theymust not risk losing the train.
"I will take another cab and meet you at the train. It is not a matterof much moment if I fail to catch it; but, Mr. Cresswell, if you get abottle of wine into the car (perhaps you will have time to get it at thestation), I will be pleased to drink Mrs. Cresswell's health."
"That's a capital idea," said Jack with spirit. "The wine will bedoubtful, perhaps, but that won't be my fault. And now," he added, asthe carriage stopped at the parsonage, "I want to leave with you yourfee, Mr. Simpson, and I hope you will not consider that it cancels ourindebtedness to you." Jack pulled out a roll of bills.
"Never mind, my dear young man," said Mr. Simpson heartily, "any timewill do. I will catch you at the station, and, if I don't, you can leaveit with me when you return here to sign the register."
Mr. Simpson got out, and Jack, finding he had only two five dollarbills, the rest being all in fifties, was rather in a dilemma how to payMr. Simpson twenty dollars for his fee.
"Here;" he said hurriedly, handing out a fifty, "you get this changed,if you have time, on your way down. You may possibly miss us at thestation, and I can not hear of your waiting until we return."
"Very well," said Mr. Simpson, speaking as fast as his tongue would lethim, "I will have to take my chance, and, if I can not catch you, justcall in for the balance when you return. Don't lose a moment!" With awave of his hand and a direction to the driver, Mr. Simpson wenthurriedly up the parsonage steps, and the cab dashed off toward theMichigan Southern depot.
Jack had time to purchase the wine, which ought to have been good,judging from the price. Unfortunately, Mr. Simpson was too late to jointhem. The train went off without him, and Jack and Nina drank his jollygood health in half the bottle, and afterward the Pullman conductorstruggled successfully with the rest.
Altogether they were in high spirits, Jack especially, and Nina'sthankfulness for being safely married to one of the best of men made hervery amiable.
* * * * *
Mr. and Mrs. John Cresswell approached Buffalo again, from the West, atthe close of Jack's two weeks' holidays. They decided that it would bebetter for Nina to go straight to Lockport on the train which connectedwith the one on which they were traveling. There was nothing for Nina todo in Buffalo but sign the register and get her marriage "lines" fromMr. Simpson, and Jack could do this, they thought, without a delay onher part to do so. To arrange about the register she had written hername on a narrow slip of paper which Jack could paste in the book at theparsonage. This they considered would suffice, and Nina went on to payher intended visit to Sophronia B. Hopkins. The run to Lockport occupiedonly a short time, and then she went to her friend's house.
In the mean time Jack, who was not like the husband in Punch in thatstage of the honeymoon when the presence of a friend "or even an enemy"would be a grateful change of companionship, walked up Main Streetsmoking a cigar and trying to make the best of his sudden bereavement.He said after the first ten minutes that he was infernally lonely, butstill the flavor of the cigar was from fair to middling. And, after all,tobacco and quiet contemplation _have_ a place in life which can not bealtogether neglected, and they come in well again after a while, nomatter what may have caused their temporary banishment.
He strolled leisurely up to the parsonage and inquired for Mr. Simpson.The maid-servant said he did not live there. Jack thought this wasstrange.
"I mean the clergyman who has charge of the church alongside."
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"Oh, yes, Mr. Toxham lives here. He is inside. Will you walk in?"
Jack was ushered into a clergyman's library, where a thin man with aworn face was sitting. Jack bowed, introduced himself, and said he hadcome here to see Mr. Matthew Simpson, "one of the associate clergymen inSt. James's Church close by."
"I do not think I know anybody by the name of Simpson," said theclergyman. "My name is Toxham. I have no associate clergyman with me inthe neighboring church. My church is called St. Luke's, not St. James's.I don't think there is any St. James's Church in Buffalo." Jack graspedthe back of the chair and unconsciously sat down to steady himself. Ahorrible fear overwhelmed him. His face grew ashen in hue, and theclergyman jumped up in a fright, thinking something was going to happen.
"It's all right," said Jack weakly. "Sit down, please. You have given mea shock, and I feel as I never felt before. There, I am better now."
As he wiped away the cold perspiration that had started out in beads onhis forehead he related the facts as to his marriage to Mr. Toxham, whowas greatly shocked.
An idea occurred to him, and on looking through the city directory, as asort of last chance, he found the name "Matthew Simpson, issuer ofmarriage licenses."
Jack started up, filled with wild and sudden hope. He got the address,and dashed from the house before Mr. Toxham could give him a word ofadvice. Arrived at the office of Matthew Simpson, he walked in and askedfor that gentleman.
"I am Matthew Simpson," said the man he spoke to.
Jack looked at him as if he had seven heads, feeling the same tremblingin the knees which he had felt when with Mr. Toxham. "Really," hethought, "if this goes on I'll be a driveling idiot by nightfall."
"Did you issue a marriage license on, let me see, two weeks agoto-morrow--on the 23d?"
"More than likely I did. Perhaps a good many on that day. You don't lookas if you wanted one yourself. Anything gone wrong? But you can have oneif you like. I do the biggest business in Buffalo. I sell more marriagelicenses than any two men between here and--"
"Turn up your books," interrupted Jack savagely. He was beginning towish to kill somebody.
"I always make a charge for a search," said the man cunningly, which wasnot true.
"Well, damn it, I can pay you. Look lively now, or the police will do itfor me in five minutes, and put you where your frauds will be of no useto you."
It was Mr. Simpson's turn to lose color now. He was one of the trusteesof a public institution in Buffalo, and people should be careful howthey talk too suddenly about police to trustees. The books wereproduced, and Jack hurriedly looked over the list of the licenses soldon the 23d of the last month, and was surprised to find that one hadbeen sold to himself. His age was entered and sworn to as fifty-fiveyears, and the license was to marry Nina Lindon, spinster, aged twentyyears. The addresses given were all Buffalo.
"There has been a great fraud done here," said Jack vehemently.
"All perfectly regular, my dear sir," said Mr. Simpson. "I remember thecircumstance well. Old party, called John Cresswell, came in, dressedlike a preacher, and wanted a license for himself. 'All right, my oldcovey,' says I to myself; 'trust an old stager like you to pick up theyoungest and best.' So I perdooced the papers, which took about fiveminutes to fill up. He took the oath, I sealed and stamped the license,like this one here, and as soon as he got it he took out his purse andthere was nothing in it. His face fell about a quarter of a yard. 'Mygoodness,' he says. 'I have come out without any money!' He then laiddown the license and rushed to the door, and then turned round and says,quite distressed: 'I'll take a cab,' says he, 'and drive home and getyour money. They're all waiting at the church for the marriage to takeplace, but, of course, you must be paid first.'"
"Well, I hated to see an old gent put about so, and his speaking about'taking a cab' and coming from 'home' in such a natural, put-about sortof way kinder made me think he was solid, and, like a dum fool, I slingshim the license and tells him to call in after the ceremony. He thankedme, with what I should call Christian gratitude in his face. Yes, sir,it was Christian gratitude, there, every time. And--would you believeit?--the old boozer never showed up since!"
"Ha!" said Jack, who only heard the main facts of what Simpson wassaying. "Did you never see this old man before?" he added.
"Well, that is a funny thing about it. It seemed to me I knew the face.That was one thing that made me trust him. I could not swear to it, butI have a great mind for faces, and I believe I have, at some time orother, sold the old coon a license before."
Jack thought this would account for the old man, while on the train,giving the name Matthew Simpson, when he had the whole scheme quicklyarranged in his head. Still, it might be that he was in fact someprofligate, ruined clergyman, who played these confidence games to makea livelihood. The license was issued in his and Nina's names, and,although incorrect on its face and not paid for, might still, hethought, be a legal license for him to claim a _bona-fide_ marriageunder. If the license was good enough, the next thing to do was to goto the police office and find out what he could there. "The marriagemight be a good one still."
He threw down the price of the license for Mr. Simpson, and asked him tobe good enough to keep the papers in his possession carefully, as theymight be required afterward. He left Mr. Simpson rather mystified as tothe interest he took in the matter, and then, having still two hoursbefore train-time, he repaired to the police headquarters. There herelated in effect what had taken place to Superintendent Fox. Two orthree quiet-looking men were lounging about, seeming to take but littleinterest in Jack's story. Detectives are not easily disturbed by thatwhich excites the victim who tells his unfortunate experience. Thesefellows were smoking cigars, and they occasionally exchanged a lowsentence with each other in which Jack thought he heard the word"Faro-Joseph." What that meant he did not know; but he described thegentleman of dignified aspect, whom he had known on the train as Rev.Matthew Simpson, and then he heard one of them mutter "Faro-Joseph"again, while they nodded significantly.
One of the men, who had his boots on a desk in front of him, wasconsulting his note-book. He then said:
"On the 23d of last month Faro-Joseph got off the train at the CentralDepot at two o'clock. On the 26th he left on the Michigan Southern at 10P. M."
It dawned upon Jack that his clerical friend was called "Faro-Joseph" inpolice circles.
"Why did you not warn me when you saw me in company with this man. Hegot off the train with me at the the time you say. Surely I should havehad some word from you!"
"Well, gent, I tell you why. I was just about to arrest another man, andin the crowd I did not see that you were with him. Don't remember everseeing you before. I might pass you twenty times and never know I hadseen you. You're not the kind we reaches out for. Now, I dare say,unless a woman is of a fine figure--tall, possibly, or the kind offigure you admire--chances are you don't see her at all. That is, youcould not tell afterward whether you had seen her or not. Same thinghere. You're not the kind we hunt."
Jack turned to the superintendent and asked him whether this man,Faro-Joseph, was not really at one time a clergyman. The superintendentsmiled pityingly.
"Why, he only started the sky-pilot game during the last ten years, andonly takes it up occasionally. Though I believe it's his best holt. As aGospel-sharp he'll beat anybody out of their socks. He's immense on thatlay. What I call just perfect. He's all on the confidence ticket now andthe pasteboards. Has quite given up the heavy business. Why, sir, youwould forgive him most anything if you could see him handle card-board.We pulled him for a 'vag.' one night about four months ago; and, just tofind out how he did things, I played a little game with him after we lethim go on promise to quit. We put the stakes about as low as they couldbe put--five-cent ante, and twenty-five cent limit--just for theexperiment. Now, sir, you would be surprised. He cheated me from theword 'go,' and I don't know yet how it was done. If he dealt the cardshe would get an all-fired hand himself, and if I dealt him nothing he'
dbluff me right up the chimney. For poker he has no match, I believe. AllI know about that game is that I lost three dollars in thirty minutes."
"Perhaps you have his record written down somewhere?" said Jack, feelingsick at heart, and yet fascinated by the account of Faro-Joseph.
"Perhaps we have," said the superintendent, smiling toward one of theloungers near by. "Just come in this way."
The superintendent opened a large case like a wardrobe, and beganflapping back a large number of thin flat wings that all worked onseparate hinges. These wings were covered with photographs ofcriminals--a terrible collection of faces--and from one of them he tooka very fair likeness of our clerical friend in another dress. Pasted atthe back of the photograph was a folded paper containing a list in finewriting of his known convictions and suspected offenses for a period ofover forty years. He had been burglar, counterfeiter, and forger, whichthe superintendent called the 'heavy business' that he had given up.Since those earlier days he had been train-gambler, confidence-man, andsneak-thief.
There was nothing to be done. Faro-Joseph never had been a clergyman. Toput the law in force was out of the question for several reasons. Jackgot away to catch his train for Toronto and to think and think what itwould be best to do about Nina, and where and how they could get marriedproperly.