The Barrier: A Novel

  CHAPTER XXX

  TIME BEGINS HIS REVENGES

  Political and social undercurrents were slowly working to the surface inthe world of Stirling. Though it was barely spring, the mayoraltycampaign was well under way, promising a close struggle in the fall. Amore immediate matter was the threatened strike, which the men's leaderswere urging in the hope that the approaching annual meeting of thestockholders of the street-railway might bring some relief. In theseaffairs the attitude of Ellis was of importance.

  The newspapers called him the Sphinx, since he gave no sign of hispurposes. In politics, of course, it was to be assumed that he was onthe side of the machine. But against the strike he might take a varietyof courses, with a variety of results, all of which were, by thespeculative, mapped and calculated in advance. He might yield and avoidthe strike, he might defy it, or at the last minute he might by somesudden action entirely change the aspect of affairs and bring himselfprofit and credit. Just how this last could be done no one seemed to besure, but since from day to day matters were growing worse and Ellismade no move, it was confidently stated that he had "something up hissleeve."

  Otherwise there was no explaining his conduct. His opponents did notdare to believe that he was blinded by self-confidence, and yet his ownfollowers, trust him as they might, were uneasy. His manner showed asteady, almost savage determination to win, and yet he did not "tend tobusiness." There were days when he was absent from his officealtogether, refusing to talk with his subordinates except bytelephone--and they hated to discuss plans except within four walls.There was even one day when he disappeared altogether, just when theStirling representatives had come down from the State capital to conferwith him on the street-railway bill, the prospects of which, on accountof the clause conferring eminent domain, were none too bright. Ellis,when at last his men found him in the evening, said only that he hadbeen at Chebasset. Moreover, his men got little out of him: with an oddnew gleam in his eye, he merely listened as they spoke; he gave nodirections, and when they begged him to run up to the capital and lobbyfor himself he thanked them and said he'd think it over. Feeling theirjourney to have been for nothing, they left him, grumbling amongthemselves. Something seemed wrong with him.

  Something was wrong with him. A man with a pain gnawing at his heart anda ghost always before his eyes cannot attend to his work. It was not theColonel's ghost that dogged Ellis: he never troubled for his part inBlanchard's death. Judith, splendid in cold anger, haunted him. Shespoiled his sleep, she came between him and his work, she tormented himby the vision of what he had lost. There was a steady drain upon him, asfrom an unhealed wound--or from that inward bleeding which, on the veryfirst day of their acquaintance, he had felt on leaving her. No, he wasnot himself; his mind was confused, his energies wasted, by the constantalternation of anger and despair.

  When realisation swept upon him suddenly, then he shut himself up,refused himself to all, and fought his fury until he had controlled it.That day when he went to Chebasset he had not intended to go, but onhis way to his office there suddenly rushed over him the sense of hisloss. Possessed by the thought, he took the train to Chebasset andwandered half the day among his grounds, tormenting himself by therecollection that these drives, walks, shrubberies were laid out forJudith, and now she would never live among them. When he took out of hispocket a slip of paper bearing her signature and told himself that shewas in his power--in his power!--he found no pleasure in the thought.

  In the evening he had not cast off his mood, and when he met his men,sent them away dissatisfied. One, bolder or more foolhardy than theothers, lingered a moment. "Say," he asked, "what's wrong?"

  "Nothing," answered Ellis.

  "Honest I'm telling you," said his henchman, "a strike will kill thebill. And the men on the road are getting ugly."

  "Thanks," Ellis replied impatiently. The glow in his eyes suddenlybecame fierce, and the man took himself off.

  All this was extremely irritating to Ellis; he felt more angry with hisown men than with his opponents, and was ready to punish them forinsubordination without considering the cause of their alarm. It wasunfortunate for Mr. Price that he chose to come to Ellis just after hislegislators had left him. Price wore the same uneasy air.

  "Now, what are you worried about?" Ellis began on him.

  It was his street-railway stock, Price explained. The quotations were socontinually dropping----

  "Only fifteen dollars!" Ellis interrupted scornfully.

  "Yes," agreed Price, "but they will soon be down again to where I boughtthem."

  "Bought?" sneered Ellis. "_Bought!_"

  "Well----" hesitated Price.

  "What is it to you," demanded Ellis in jarring tones, "where the priceof the stock is, up or down? It cost you nothing, it pays you well, it'sa sure thing. Just you hold it and send me your proxies."

  "But," suggested Price, very much brow-beaten, yet endeavouring to saywhat he came for, "if it's such a good thing, won't you, perhaps, takeit?"

  "What!" rasped Ellis. "My God, Price, haven't you the decency to sitstill and say nothing?"

  "Oh, well," mumbled the jeweller, writhing, "if the stock is sosure--you're sure it's solid?"

  "Certainly," Ellis said. "Price, don't be an ass! The other side is justselling itself a share or two, every little while, to make theimpression that the value is falling. Don't you be taken in."

  "Oh, if that's all!" breathed Price, much relieved. He took his hat.

  "There, run along," said Ellis. "You know who are your best friends." Hespoke as if directing a child, and Price went away with an irritatedsense of his own impotence and meanness.

  But Ellis found no relief in scolding his dependents. He missedsomething; he knew that he needed a place where he might sit quiet andforget the grind and grime of his affairs. The best that was left to himwas Mrs. Harmon, but she never could equal Judith, and when he went tosee her now she bothered him with her advice.

  "I wanted to see you," were her first words. "I have been thinking oftelephoning you."

  "What is it now?" he asked drearily.

  "Stephen," she demanded with energy, "do you realise what is going on?They are all organising against you."

  "What can they do?" he snarled.

  "Your own men are frightened," she said. "Two of them came to meto-day--no, I won't tell their names. They begged me to tell you theremustn't be a strike. You'll lose your bill, your mayor will be defeated.Can't you see that?"

  "No!" he returned.

  "The papers are all calling for Mather as street-railway president," shewent on. "The men say they would never strike under him. It's all verywell for you to say that the travelling public must take what you givethem, but people won't----"

  "Lydia," he interrupted, "it's very good of you to be interested in myposition, but suppose you give your time to your own. It needs it badenough."

  He touched a sore, for Judge Harmon's old friends, remembering hisdisappointment in his wife, were dropping her. She was irritated, andsnapped in return. "You look very badly," she said critically. "Just fora girl, Stephen?"

  He glared at her so furiously, at a loss for speech, that she wasfrightened and begged his pardon. Yet after she had given him tea shereturned again to the charge.

  "You said, Stephen, that you control a majority of shareholders' votes.You aren't afraid that some of your men will sell out to the other side?I see the stock is down."

  "But is it traded in?" he asked. "Only a share or two. You are likePrice; he came whimpering to me yesterday about his fifty shares."

  "But the balance is pretty even, isn't it?" she inquired. "Mightn'tfifty shares just make the whole difference?"

  "If you mean whether Price would sell me out," he answered. "He neverbought his shares. They came to him through me. He's tied to me."

  "I don't see how?" she said doubtfully. "He's not in politics now; he'sindependent, and he gets his money from the upper people--the other sideentirely. But I suppose you know. Still, I wish Abiel ha
d never sold hisstock."

  "Don't worry," he commanded. "Confound it, I have to supply courage tothe whole of you."

  His men had need of his courage as day by day matters drifted nearer toa crisis and they saw their enemies organising. Those nervous and eagerpersons, the reform politicians, had long talks with the men of money,who were not now averse to giving them interviews. The men of moneytalked together, and the newspapers claimed that at last, after almost ageneration, the society leaders were to take a hand in politics. Asseveral of the reformers held railway stock, and as the fashionablescould (if they chose) muster many votes for the election, their allianceagainst Ellis might prove formidable. The reformers grew more cheerful,old Mr. Fenno more grim, Pease more thoughtful as the days went by. Thetime was near for the annual meeting of the street-railway shareholders,and the strike, if it came at all, would come before that. The wholecity was intent upon the event.

  And Judith, tired as she was, roused to watch the struggle. Was hersluggish class waking at last? Was Ellis at bay? Was Mather to comeforward and lead? Judith read the newspapers, but gleaned only suchstatements as: "Mr. Fenno and Mr. Branderson at last control a majorityof street-railroad votes," or "Mr. Watson has added largely to hisholdings of street-railway stock." She knew these reports could not betrue: the stock was tied fast long ago, and Ellis would take everypains to maintain his supremacy. But Mather would explain to her thecondition of affairs.

  Yet he came seldom to the house. She knew that his mind was occupied, hewas interviewed and pestered on all hands. Day by day she read in thepapers: "Mr. Mather refuses to make any statement." But he might speakto her. His only desire, when he came to call, appeared to be to throwoff every care save for her health. She did not like to broach theimportant topic, yet with repression her interest grew, and she feltdeeply disappointed when, the opportunity being given to speak upon it,he was reserved.

  He met her in a street-car, and sat by her side. When the conductor camefor his fare Mather nodded to him and called him by name. "Good-day,Wilson."

  "I've taken Mr. Ellis's fare every day for two years," said the man,"yet I don't think he knows me by sight. Ah, Mr. Mather, if we only hadyou back there wouldn't be no strike."

  Mather smiled. "We were all good friends in those days."

  The man went away, and Judith asked as much as she dared. "How does itseem to be so in demand?"

  "I'm not so sure how much in demand I am," he replied, and then spoke ofother things.

  She thought that he was avoiding the subject, and told herself that hedid not need her any more. Far away were those days when he sought heradvice--and this thought made her sigh occasionally over her work. Thetasks grew harder as she felt herself left out; she became eager to domore than merely study, feeling that, with so much going on around her,she was nothing.

  One night when Mather came he spoke for a while with Pease privately,then hurried away without waiting to see the others. Judith had put herbooks away; now she took them again, and went into the dining-room towork. But she could not fix her mind on her figures, and after a whileshe said aloud in the room: "A month ago when he came to see me I wouldnot stop work to speak with him. Now when he comes I put away my books,but he does not wait."

  Then she heard Pease speaking with Beth in the parlour, and heardGeorge's name coupled with Ellis's. So Beth was learning all about theplans! Smothering a sudden jealousy, Judith determined to go and askwhat had been said, yet at the door her resolution failed her, and sheturned back. Let others know, she would go without--and she appliedherself to her figures until her head swam with them. She went unhappilyto bed and lay there thinking.

  Through her loneliness was rising a dread of Ellis as an overhangingmenace; she began to fear that he would defeat Mather a second time.Ellis's sinister force began to oppress her, not only as a cause ofgeneral evil, but also as threatening disaster to that friend whosevalue, even whose excellence, her anxieties were teaching her toacknowledge. As Judith's thoughts dwelt on the man in whom, withoutbrilliance or the stamp of genius, there was nothing false, nothing baseor mean, and nothing hidden, Ellis seemed like an enemy who, oncesuccessful against herself, was slowly approaching for an attack onMather--an enemy whose skill she knew, whose resources she feared, andwhose mercy she doubted. Dreading thus for Mather, she began to tremblealso for herself: she was in Ellis's debt so deep that only a miraclecould ever clear her, while every day was rolling up the interestagainst her. Where would this end?

  And through her dread increased her loneliness. Looking for help, shefound that she must depend solely upon herself. Day by day she hadlearned how small were her powers beside the immense energies of thecity. The definite fear of Ellis suggested still other calamities,vague, hid in the impenetrable future; there was no misfortune whichfate could not bring upon her, no defense which she could interpose. Shewas alone--and suddenly she began to long for companionship, thefellowship which some one could give, which some one once offered, whichthen she had refused, but which now seemed more precious than anythingin the world.

  Thus Judith, in her trouble, was unmindful of the power which still washers, and ignorant of the revenge which she was to take for all of hermisfortunes. For though she felt herself so weak, it was she, and shealone, who brought on Ellis the strike which his supporters were soanxious to prevent.

  On a morning, the consequences of whose events were to reach far, goingas usual to her school she passed Ellis in the street. Faltering andshocked, he stood still while she passed. He had not seen her since thenight of her rejection of him, and the change in her was startling. Shewas in black, had grown thin and pale, and her spirited carriage hadchanged to the walk of weariness, yet her beauty of face shone out theclearer, and still she was a picture which men turned to watch. She didnot notice Ellis, but passed with face set, eyes looking far away,absorbed in thought. When she had gone from his sight Ellis hurried tohis offices and locked himself in the inner room. There for an hour hewalked up and down, up and down.

  His clerk heard him, and dared not interrupt him for small matters; theroutine business of the morning was easily discharged. But about nooncame a deputation from the street-railway employees, asking to see Mr.Ellis.

  The secretary listened at the door; Ellis was still pacing the room, yetthe matter was important. The secretary knocked.

  "Men from the union to see you," he said through the door.

  "Tell them to come again," answered Ellis.

  The secretary went with this answer to the deputation. The spokesmananswered: "We have wasted enough time. We must see him now or not atall."

  The secretary knocked again at Ellis's door. "They say they must see younow, sir," he said.

  "Send them to the devil," Ellis replied. The secretary, without thoughtof the irony of his interpretation of the order, asked the men to wait.They consulted among themselves and went away.

  That morning the cars on the streets had run as usual, but the delegatesof the union, returning angrily from Ellis's office, gave the order forthe men to strike. As each car returned to the barn its crew left; byone o'clock almost all the cars were housed. Then the supporters ofEllis began to gather in his outer office. Price was there, Daggett wasthere, a dozen others as well; they consulted anxiously. Not one of themhad expected that Ellis would let the trouble go so far.

  At last, with pale face and fierce eye, he appeared among them. "Ha," hesaid sardonically when he saw so many of them. "What has frightened youall?"

  They told him of the strike; there was still one day, they reminded him,before the transfer books of the road should close. Some of his menthought he was staggered at the news, and the hastier, Price loudestamong them, begged him to conciliate the men.

  But the old fighting fire kindled within him, and he stopped them withscorn. "Don't be fools," he said. "Price, you're a coward. The men willhit first, will they? Well, we'll give them all they want!"

  He began to give directions how to meet the strike, and his energy wascommunicat
ed to them all, save one. Even that one applauded with therest, and outwardly approved.