Flowing Gold, Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  The representative of the Dallas _Post_ had anticipated some difficultyin interviewing the elusive Calvin Gray--whoever he might be--but luckappeared to be with him, for shortly after his arrival at the hotel theobject of his quest appeared. Mr. Gray was annoyed at being discovered;he was, in fact, loath to acknowledge his identity. Having justreturned from an important conference with some of the leadingfinanciers of the city, his mind was burdened with affairs of weight,and then, too, the mayor was expecting him--luncheon probably--hence hewas in no mood to be interviewed. Usually Mr. Gray's secretary sawinterviewers. However, now that his identity was known, he had not theheart to be discourteous to a fellow journalist. Yes! He had once owneda newspaper--in Alaska. Incidentally, it was the farthest-northpublication in the world.

  Alaska! The reporter pricked up his ears. He managed to elicit the factthat Mr. Gray had operated mines and built railroads there; that he hadbeen forced into the newspaper game merely to protect his interestsfrom the depredations of a gang of political grafters, and that it hadbeen a sensational fight while it lasted. This item was duly jotteddown in the reportorial memory.

  Alaska was a hard country, quite so, but nothing like Mexico during therevolution. Mexican sugar and mahogany, it transpired, had occupied Mr.Gray's attention for a time, as had Argentine cattle, Yucatanhennequin, and an engineering enterprise in Bolivia, not to mentionother investments closer to home.

  Once the speaker had become reconciled to the distasteful necessity oftalking about himself, he suggested an adjournment to his rooms, wherehe would perhaps suffer less embarrassment by reason of his unavoidableuse of the personal pronoun.

  Gray noted the effect upon his visitor of the Governor's suite and soonhad the young man at ease, with a Corona between his teeth. Thenfollowed a full three-quarters of an hour, during which the visitordiscoursed in his very best style and his caller sat spellbound, makingoccasional hieroglyphic hen tracks upon his note paper andcongratulating himself upon his good luck in striking a man like thisin one of his rare, talkative moods. Gray had set himself deliberatelyto the task of selling himself to this gentleman of the press, and,having succeeded, he was enough of a salesman to avoid the fatal errorof overselling.

  Alone at last, a sardonic grin crept over his features. So far, sogood. Now for the rest of those bankers and the mayor. Gray was workingrapidly, but he knew no other way of working, and speed was essential.It seemed to him not unlikely that delay of the slightest might forcehim to turn in desperation to a length of lead pipe and a mask, for--aman must live. As yet he had no very definite plans, he had merelyundertaken to establish himself in a position to profit by the firstopportunity, whatever it might be. And opportunity of some sort wouldsurely come. It always did. What is more, it had an agreeable way ofturning up just when he was most in need of it.

  Gray called at several other banks that morning. He strode in swiftly,introduced himself with quick incisiveness, and tarried only longenough to fix himself indelibly in the minds of those he had come tosee, then he left. There are right and wrong ways of closing a deal orof ending an interview, and Gray flattered himself that he possessed"terminal facilities." He was very busy, always a bit pressed for time,always a moment late; his theory of constant forward motion neverpermitted an awkward pause in conversation. On the street, his longlegs covered the ground at something less than a run, his eyes werekeenly alert, his face set in purposeful lines. Pedestrians turned tolook after him.

  At the mayor's office he was denied admission to the chief executive,but insisted so peremptorily as to gain his end. Once inside, heconveyed his compliments with such a graceful flourish that hisintrusion assumed the importance of a ceremony and the People's Choicewas flattered. He inferred that this Calvin Gray made a practice ofpresenting his formal respects to the dignitaries of all the largecities he visited and deemed it a favor to them. No doubt it was, if heso considered it, for he appeared to be fully aware of his ownimportance. After all, it was an agreeable practice. Since no man inpublic life can risk offending people of importance, His Honor unbent.Gray turned a current jest upon Texas politics into a neat complimentto the city's executive; they laughed; formality vanished; personalmagnetism made itself felt. The call ended by the two men lunchingtogether at the City Club, as Gray had assumed it would, and he tookpains that the bankers upon whom he had called earlier in the morningshould see him in company with the mayor.

  He returned to his hotel that afternoon pretty well satisfied with hisefforts and hopeful that some of the seed he had sown broadcast wouldbe ripe for the reaping ere-long. But he received an electric shock ashe approached the desk, for the bell captain addressed him, saying:

  "Mr. Haviland wishes to see you at once, in his office."

  "Indeed? Anything important?"

  "Very important, sir. I've been waiting for you to come in." There wassomething ominous about this unexpected summons, or perhaps about themanner of its delivery. At any rate, suspicion leaped into Gray's mind.

  So! Haviland was wise! Quick work that. Evidently he had investigated,through those mysterious sources of information available to greathotels. Or perhaps some one had seen and recognized him. Well, that wasthe way his luck had run, lately--every break against him.

  Now--Gray's shoulders lifted in a shrug of resignation--there wasnothing to do except wave aside the blindfold and face the firing squadlike an officer and a gentleman. But it was a pity that the crash hadcome so soon; fortune might have given him at least a short interval ofgrace. Haviland was probably in a cold rage at the discovery of thefraud, and Gray could only hope that he wouldn't get noisy over it, forscenes were always annoying and sometimes they ran to unfortunatelengths.

  There was a curious brightness to the imposter's eyes, a reckless,mocking smile upon his lips, when he stepped into the manager's officeand stood beside the desk. He declined Haviland's invitation to beseated--it seemed more fitting that a man should take sentence on hisfeet.

  "Have you seen the Post?" the manager inquired.

  "No."

  Haviland handed him a copy of the leading afternoon paper, and Gray'seyes flashed to the headline of an article reading:

  CALVIN GRAY, HERO OF SENSATIONAL EXPLOITS, IN DALLAS ADVENTURES READLIKE PAGE OF ROMANCE FAMOUS FINANCIER ADMITS LARGE OIL INTERESTS BEHINDHIM

  From the opening paragraph Gray judged that he had impressed thereporter even more deeply than he had supposed, but he took nosatisfaction there from, for Haviland was saying:

  "I've read the whole story, but I want you to tell me something moreabout yourself."

  "What do you wish to know?"

  "Were you in France?"

  Over the visitor's face there came a subtle change. Whereas, uponentering, he had worn an expression of careless defiance, now heappeared to harden in every fiber and to go on guard.

  "I have been many times in France."

  "I mean during the war. Did you serve?"

  There was a pause. "I did." Gray's eyes remained fixed upon hisinterrogator, but they had begun to smolder.

  "Then you're Colonel Gray. Colonel Calvin Gray."

  "Quite so." The speaker's voice was harsh, and it came with an effort."But you didn't read _that_ in the _Post_. Come! What's the idea? Outwith it."

  The interview had taken an unexpectedly disagreeable turn. Gray hadanticipated an unpleasant moment or two, but this--well, it was indeedthe crash. Calamity had overtaken him from the very quarter he hadleast expected and most dreaded, and his mind raced off at a tangent; adozen unwelcome queries presented themselves.

  "Strange what circles we move in," Haviland was saying. "Do you knowwho owns the controlling interest in this hotel? Surely you must knowor can guess. Think a moment. It's somebody you met over there and havereason to remember."

  A sound escaped, from the throat of Colonel Gray--not a cry, but rathera gasp of amazement, or of rage.

  "Aha!" Haviland grinned in triumph. "I thought--"

  His guest leaned fo
rward over the desk, with face twitching. Passionhad driven the blood from it, and his whole expression was one of suchhatred, such fury, the metamorphosis was so startling, that the hotelman stiffened in his chair and stared upward in sudden amazement.

  "_Nelson!_" Gray ejaculated. "Nelson! By God! So! He's _here_!"

  During the moment that Haviland sat petrified, Gray turned his headslowly, his blazing eyes searched the office as if expecting todiscover a presence concealed somewhere; they returned to the hotelman's face, and he inquired:

  "Well, where is he?"

  Haviland stirred. "I don't know what you're talking about. Who'sNelson?" After a second he exclaimed: "Good Lord! I thought I had apleasant surprise for you, and I was gracefully leading up to it,but--I must have jazzed it all up. I was going to tell you that thehotel and everything in it is yours."

  "Eh?"

  "Why, the Ajax is one of the Dietz chain! Herman Dietz of Cincinnatiowns it. He left for the North not an hour ago. At the last minute heheard you were here--read this story in the paper--and had bellboysscouring the place for you. You must know why he wanted to see you, andwhat he said when he found that he'd have to leave before you came in."

  Colonel Gray uttered another exclamation, this time an expletive ofdeep relief. He fought with himself a moment, then murmured an apology."Sorry. You gave me a start-decidedly. Herman Dietz, eh? Well, well!You made me think for a moment that I was a guest in the house of someother--friend."

  "_Friend?_"

  "Exactly!" Gray was himself again now. He ran a loosening fingerbetween his collar and throat. "Quite a start, I'll admit, but--some ofmy friends are great practical jokers. They have a way of jumping outat me and crying 'Boo!' when I least expect it."

  "Um-m! I see. Mr. Dietz told me that he was under lifelong obligationto a certain Colonel Calvin Gray. Something to do with passports--"

  "I once rendered him a slight favor."

  "He doesn't regard the favor as 'slight.' He was about to be imprisonedfor the duration of the war and you managed to get him back home."

  "Merely a matter of official routine. I felt sure he was a loyalAmerican citizen."

  "Exactly. But he makes more of the incident than you do, and he gave memy instructions. So--what can I do for you on his behalf? You have onlyto ask."

  Gray pondered the unexpected offer. He was still a bit shaken, for amoment ago he had been more deeply stirred even than Havilandsuspected, and the emotional reaction had left him weak. After all thehollow pretense of this day a genuine proffer of aid was welcome, andthe temptation to accept was strong. Herman Dietz was indeed indebtedto him, and he believed the old German-American would do anything, lendhim any amount of money, for instance, that he might ask for. Graywondered why he had not thought of Dietz before he came to Texas; itwould have made things much easier. But the offer had come too late, itseemed to him; at this moment he could see no means of profiting by itwithout wrecking the flimsy house of cards he had that very day erectedand exposing himself to ridicule, to obloquy as a rank four-flusher.The scarcely dry headlines of that afternoon paper ran before hiseyes--"_Famous Financier Admits Large Oil Interests Behind Him_."Probably there were other things in the body of the article that wouldnot harmonize with an appeal to Haviland for funds, nor sound well toMr. Dietz, once he learned the truth. The more Gray pondered thematter, the more regretfully he realized that he had overplayed hishand, as it were.

  Here was a situation indeed! To be occupying the most expensive suitein the hotel of a man who wished to lend him money, to be unable to payone day's rent therefore, and yet to be stopped from accepting aid.There was a grim irony about it, for a fact. Then, too, the seed he hadsown in banking circles, and his luncheon with the mayor! Haviland hada sense of humor; it would make a story too good to keep--the new oiloperator, the magnificent and mysterious New York financier, a"deadhead" at the Ajax. Oh, murder!

  "Well, name your poison! Isn't there something, anything we can do foryou?" Haviland repeated.

  "There is, decidedly." Gray smiled his warm appreciation of the tender."If it is not too great a drain upon the Dietz millions, you may keep asupply of cut flowers in my room. I'm passionately fond of roses, and Ishould like to have my vases filled every morning."

  "You shall dwell in a perfumed bridal bower."

  Gray paused at the door to light one of those sixty-cent cigars andbetween puffs observed: "Please assure Mr. Dietz that--his obligationis squared and that I am--deeply touched. I shall revel in the scent ofthose flowers."

  That evening, when Calvin Gray, formally and faultlessly attired,strolled into the Ajax dining room he was conscious of attracting nolittle attention. For one thing, few of the other guests were inevening dress, and also that article in the _Post_, which he had readwith a curiously detached amusement, had been of a nature to excitegeneral notice. The interview had jarred upon him in only onerespect--_viz_., in describing him as a "typical soldier of fortune."No doubt the reporter had intended that phrase in the kindest spirit;nevertheless, it implied a certain recklessness and instability ofcharacter that did not completely harmonize with Gray's inchoate,undeveloped banking projects. Bankers are wary of anything that soundsadventurous--or they pretend to be. As a matter of fact, Gray hadlearned enough that very day about Texas bankers to convince him thatmost of them were good, game gamblers, and that a large part of thedividends paid by most of the local institutions of finance werederived from oil profits. However, the newspaper story, as a whole, wassuch as to give him the publicity he desired, and he was well contentwith it.

  Its first results were prompt in coming. Even while the head waiter wasseating him, another diner arose and approached him with a smile. Grayrecognized the fellow instantly--one of that vast army of casuals thatmarch through every active man's life and disappear down the avenues offorgetfulness.

  After customary greetings had been exchanged, the newcomer, Coverly byname, explained that he had read the _Post_ article not five minutesbefore, and was delighted to learn how well the world had used Gray. Hewas dining alone; with alacrity he accepted an invitation to join hisold friend, and straightway he launched himself upon the current ofreminiscence. In answer to Gray's inquiry, he confessed modestly enough:

  "Oh, I'm not in your class, old man. I'm no 'modern Gil Blas,' as thepaper calls you. No Wall Street money barons are eating out of my hand,and I have no international interests 'reaching from the Yukon to thePlate,' but--I stand all right in little old Dallas. I'm the V. P. ofour biggest jewelry house, and business is great." After their orderhad been given, he recited in greater detail the nature of his success.

  Gray was interested. "Texas is booming," he said, at the conclusion ofthe story. "I'm told the new oil towns are something like our oldmining camps."

  "Except that they are more so. The same excitement, the same quickfortunes, only quicker and larger. Believe me, it's fine for thejewelry business. Look here." Coverly drew from his pocket a letterwritten in a painfully cramped hand upon cheap note paper, and this hespread out for his companion to read. "There's an example in point."

  The letter, which bore the Ranger postmark, ran as follows:

  DERE SIR--Your store has bin rekomend to me for dimons and I want some for my wife and dauter. Send me prises on rings of large sises.

  Yours truley GUS BRISKOW.

  "Um-m! Who is Mr. Briskow?"

  Coverly shrugged. "Probably some nester who never saw a hundred dollarsall in one place until recently. When they strike oil, they buydiamonds, nice large yellow ones, as a rule; then as the moneycontinues to flow in, they pay off the mortgage and buy a bank--or aninterest in one."

  "In Heaven's name, introduce me to the opulent Gus Briskow."

  "I wish I might. But I don't expect to make his acquaintance. The headof our firm is away and I haven't a man I'd dare trust to send out intothe field. Usually I handle these inquiries myself when the victimcan't tear himself away from contemplating the miraculous flow ofliquid gold long enough to co
me here. I take an assortment of gems withme and beard the _nouveau riche_ right on his derrick floor. Why, I'vecarried as much as a hundred thousand dollars' worth of merchandise onsome of my trips." Coverly sighed regretfully. "Tough luck! Too badyou're not a good jewelry salesman?"

  "I am," Gray declared. "I can sell anything. As for diamonds--I'vebought enough in my time to know their value."

  Coverly laughed in ready agreement with this statement. "Gad! I'm soreat missing this sale."

  "You needn't miss it. I'll go."

  "Don't kid an unfortunate--"

  "I'm not joking. If it's worth while, pack up your saffronsolitaires--all that you dare trust me with--and I'll be yourgentlemanly representative."

  "Worth while? Good Lord! I'd probably get a ten-thousand-dollar order!"

  "Very well. It's settled." Gray's decision had been quickly made.Opportunity had knocked--he was not one to deny her admission, nomatter how queer her garb. A hundred thousand dollars' worth of gems!The very figures intrigued him and--diamonds are readily negotiable.There would be a natural risk attached to the handling of so large anamount. A thousand things might happen to a treasure chest of thatsize. Gray began to believe that his luck had changed.

  "Where does Mr. Briskow live?" he inquired.

  "Out beyond Ranger, somewhere. But--"

  "I'm going to visit that field, anyhow. This will give me an excuse."

  "Nonsense!" The jeweler did not like to have fun poked at him. For sometime he refused to take the offer seriously, and even when his hostinsisted that he would enjoy the lark, he expostulated: "Why, the ideais ridiculous! You--Calvin Gray, the financier, peddling jewelry? Ha!Outside of the fact that you wouldn't, couldn't do it, it's not thesafest thing in the world to carry a small fortune in stones throughthe oil fields."

  "Of course you insure it against theft?"

  "That's the point. We can't. Have you ever heard of 'high-jackers'?That's the Texas term for hold-up men, robbers. Well, the country isfull of them."

  "Excellent! There no longer is any question about my going," Grayannounced, firmly. "I am bored; I am stale; a thrill, of whatever sort,would stir my blood. Animated by purely selfish motives, I now insistupon a serious consideration of my offer. First, you say I 'wouldn't,couldn't'; I assure you that I would, could--and _shall_, provided Ican qualify as a salesman."

  Coverly admitted without much argument that anybody could probablyeffect a sale in this instance, if the diamonds were plainly markedwith their prices; it would be a mere question of displaying the goods.That was not the point. Gray was a rich, a busy man--the idea wasfantastic.

  "Why, you're offering to do this as an accommodation to an old friend,and your time is probably worth more than our whole profit on the salewould amount to."

  "My time is worth nothing. If you hesitate to intrust this king'sransom to me, I'll go personally responsible for its value. That'sfair, isn't it?"

  "Don't be silly. How could I pay you if you did go?"

  "Um-m!" This idea, it seemed, had not occurred to Mr. Gray. It wasplain that money meant nothing to him.

  "You see? We couldn't permit--"

  "I have it. We'll divorce friendship and sentiment entirely from thediscussion and reduce it to a strictly business basis. You shall easeyour conscience by paying my traveling expenses. The emotional suspensethat I undergo shall be my reward. I'll take my commission in thrills."

  This offer evoked a light laugh from Gray's guest. "You'd get enough of'em," he asserted. "I'll advance a mild one, on account, at thismoment. Notice the couple dining at the third table to your left." Graylifted his eyes. "What do you see?"

  "A rather well-dressed, hard-faced man and a decidedly attractivewoman--brunette. There's a suggestion of repressed widowhood about her.It's the gown, probably. I am not yet in my dotage, and I had seen herbefore I saw you."

  "She's living here. I don't know much about her, but the man goes bythe name of Mallow."

  "No thrill yet."

  "He's been hanging about our store for the past month, making a fewpurchases and getting acquainted with some of the clerks. Wherever Igo, lately, there he is. I'll wager if I took to-night's train forRanger, he'd be on it."

  "And still my pulses do not leap."

  "Wait! I got a sort of report on him and it's bad. I believe, and sodoes the chief of police, that Mr. Mallow has something to do with thegang of crooks that infests this country. One thing is certain, they'renot the native product, and our hold-ups aren't staged by rope-chokersout of work."

  Calvin Gray turned now and openly stared at the object of Coverly'ssuspicions. There was an alert interest in his eyes. "You've cinchedthe matter with me," he declared, after a moment. "Get out yourdiamonds to-morrow; I'm going to take the night train to Ranger."

  Later that evening, after his guest had gone, Gray took occasiondeliberately to put himself in Mallow's way and to get intoconversation with him. This was not a difficult maneuver, for it wasnearly midnight and the lobby was well-nigh deserted; moreover, italmost appeared as if the restless Mr. Mallow was seeking anacquaintance.

  For the better part of an hour the two men smoked and talked, and hadCoverly overheard their conversation his blood would have chilled andhe would have prematurely aged, for his distinguished host, CalvinGray, the worldly-wise, suave man of affairs, actually permittedhimself to be pumped like a farmer's son. It would have been a ghastlysurprise to the jeweler to learn how careless and how confiding hisfriend could be in an off moment; he would have swooned when Gray toldabout his coming trip to Ranger and actually produced the misspelledBriskow letter for the edification of his chance acquaintance. Anylingering doubt as to his friend's honesty of purpose would havevanished utterly had he heard Mallow announce that he, too, was goingto Ranger, the very next night--a curious coincidence, truly--andGray's expression of pleasure at the prospect of such a congenialtraveling companion. The agitated Coverly no doubt would have phoned afrantic call for the police, then and there.

  Once Gray was in his rooms, however, his manner changed, and into hiseyes there came a triumphant glitter. Hastily he rummaged through oneof his bags, and from a collection of trinkets, souvenirs, and the likehe selected an object which he examined carefully, then took into thebathroom for further experiment. His step was springy, his lips werepuckered, he was whistling blithely when he emerged, for at last thosevaguely outlined plans that had been at the back of his mind hadassumed form and pattern. His luck had turned, he had made a new start.Mallow was indeed a crook, and Gray blessed the prompt good fortunethat had thrown both him and Coverly in his way.

  It had been a busy day; he was well content with its fruitage.