THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume L, Issue 60, 31 August 1907, Page 4

THE STORYTELLER.

, SCANDAL IN CKAitCSkY.

. Vice-Chancellor Satterthwaite =at at -?' the green cloth table in his study in "J ,W«st Park street. Alius Fortesuuc, his . stenographer, was with him. Suddenly : ke heard the rattle of a key in the . street door below. lie looked up. A pleased smile lighted up hi- face. "It's Boy," he said softly to Miss Fortescue. "Strange," he went on, musing, ■that we should have finished this opiaion just as Boy came in." There was a light step on the soft : kail carpet just outside. Miss Fortescue v Hushed up a bit A man came in. He . waa a young man, tall, slender, dark; distinguished in appearance. He was itke son of Vice-Chancellor Stattertkwaite, and tore that the hair of one ; was white and the other black, these two - "Men were counterparts. The younger 'man stepped to Miss Fortcseue anl •hoe* her by the hand. She flushed •tin more deeply. Then he crossed to tke table, where his father was seated, •ad greeted him with greater vigor. A genial smile was on the face of each. Mas Fortescue glanced from one face to tke Other. Her eye kindled. She lov.ed these men—loved both of them for their gentleness, their stray!;' barKud -" BeM ' fo l_li?f lI ' Hl'fflTlMll I ill II ' Ring, A/r their honor. i"he Vice-Chancellor sighed. "It's good , fc see you, Boy," he said. And yet tkb was no welcome home after a long ] journey. It was mere routine. The < ■UM thing happened at No. 5 West Park ■tree* erery night at half-past five. It i -»**• the daily, early evening greeting, > that waa ill. They were friends, this j oil man «nd this young one; they never e admitted, the one to the other, that one 'vm father, the other son. They were ( Comrades, cronies, if you please. ( Tke old Vice-Chancellor wiped his « jittae*. "Boy," he said finally, "I have j pit finished the dictation to Miss Forteaene of my revised opinion in " g •Hot the Dalton divorce V the young j, . man queried. , "Wot tke Dalton divorce," the elder „ Ban assented; "the—the Interstate and d Ms-State Merger case: Copersmiths v. 1> and T. S.RJI. That's the case, ray I*i ,*oy» *:

*Bo-*oon?" faltered the Vke-Chaneel-tort eon. He remembered afterwards, years aftarwnrds, that he bid glanced from his father's face to the large figures of a •deodar on the wall. He remcmWed •Howards, years afterwards, that this calendar informed him that the day was Awl! s—* date that seared itself into hit brain.

_ "Mas Fortescue win read it to you fcmn her notes," went on the old ViceChneeDor. IGh Fortescue began in a clear, low tola* The Vice-Chancellor stopped her. He -had readjusted his glasses, and was fuing intently on the young man's face. Iwjr," the old man interrupted, "there'* something wrong with you." Hb son smiled a forlorn smile. "I ■Usual think there was," he answered. Tltsra wm a, sudden silence. Miss Fortaaeae rose, and stepped out and closed ,tt» door behind her, leaving the two men ■Jobs. She knew their ways. After •ha hid gone, the young nun rose. "Vba-Cfcancellor," he said, "I— l've sad* a mistake. I've been over to Raw York to-day. I've been down opflß the Street" The old man nodded timir. His son went on: "You gave dollars on the first of January loir • New Year's present It's—it's ■H, I dropped it On the street tojfay—took me just five minutes to do It, too." I

Ef , Again the old man nodded. "My sal- *■ ■ VJ a* Yiee-Chancellor Is 7000 dollars. %-■ H> took me more than five minutes to | : am the money that yon dropped to-day, £ 'Boy. And to save it—well, it took lis e\ hag enough to save it, eh!" There EV «M m rebuke contained in his tone. He a mm merely reasoning things out ft- - r The trouble with It all is," his son Pi v Vats on, "I was laying out to marry P Mary Jortesene on that money— not on L tt» SOO doßtrs," he added hastily, "but jpf « the profits of it, don't yon see?" A S lit Of becoming red color was added to f 4at pallor of his face. "I—l want to jgr aeka money. - f want to make it fast." |f There were no financial secrets lies'. 4*een these two men. They spent mo--2 aty; they lived well. Bat, hitherto they F JMmi oa the Vice-chancellor's salary. ». B djdnt seem so much to Daniel Stitr-' tarttwaite.'the son. They had the old ft fcurjaas, and Peter the coachman, and 'c 4be jtir of high steppers. They cost a £J goo* deal, I>ot were seemly only nera- £- a»rfci, after aIL In the summer I hey

P. old-Europe. They enjoyed life, well, & vMy together. Daniel was a lawyer. J -He had a law-office down on the Main (tract, a - good, spartan;, old-fashioned F trite. It was. And he had law business §* —* steady, alow, humdrum, discouraging IJ ' kw. business. When he had first hung KL. ant his shingle clients had flocked tn him |T lar one reason only. Chancery litigants I? - Wfcved that to employ the «n of the S,t VfaaHdaneeUor Statterthwaite was in W" Uglty. He was wfte, very wisp. He £- «M the ablest jurist in the State; not 9f Che Boat influential, not the most talked [L. Of, tart he was the man who knew. He Ey hh as honest as the day Is Ion?, and he p« tftHlifl content. But his son craved £ janatta, affluence. £ ' "l want to make something onf of if aotUßf, by a tnm of the wrist. r.s otlier fc (aw do," he said to his father. &*■ . "Ae pther men do," smiled the greyg" * kabed jurist. He stepped across the K |m to his safe, unlocked a little draw, k; tad took out a batch of papers. "As 8T other men do," he reiterated slowly. E - fßoy," be said sudd'enly, "if all lhr» faille am were recorded and remembered, and • '' none of the successes, bow successful ~ ■W* would all be! If only the losses £«* yen written in large hand on the ledK gar and the profits erased, we'd all get %. Hfb listen, Boy. If ever I had made & % atrfke—if ever I had really bought P Bnr-*M»fl with nothing, I'd never tell t" B*a. But, my transaction on the E* - Street was-just like yours. IsunkaWO K' dollars at a time when that 5000 dollars £* came out of our life-blood—your mo- £. tker's and mine, and yours; when partIE -*" lag Willi 5000 dollars meant almost starft. Vatbm. It might have meant dishonesty, f&.- almost! I sunk 6000 dollars. I was gj i» get thousands and thousands back." ¥ . Be stopped. "I wish," he finally went S" en, "that I had the"something—the enerfe afee T wasted, the sleep we lost, the &"" anflss that, left your mother's face. I \ wfah I bad the something that we gave 't fcMWthing.'' _ £ Eb held out his hand. The young £ 1»« slowly returned the shares of minE tag itock. He hardly noted what they & ■ ***■ is "Ultramarine Bine Mining Company, ¥ Mad the old man, "owners of the Green |$ Saafl, Pigeon's Egg, and No. 33 copper |r- ufaec. Dear me!" » He replaced the worthless share* to jj* |ha Jittle box and locked it .SB £■ That's what Wall Street did to ■ %~ ■ Jbft laid, "and I begged, borrowed, almoW % »We that 6000 oolalra to get <>n the %■ ground floor. Well, I got in, and I—fe'- dropped through." F* EJ* eon thanked his father with his fe atea, Tve learned my lesson, VC.-C," B a* returned dejectedly, with his glance ■F opoa the pattern of the Beloochistan on £ the floor. K "Danny, boy," said the jurist, leaning I forward and tapping his son upon the ST knee, "you stick to the law. You don't L know men as I know them. But I something about you. You will be Sr"~iwat, some day." f "to great as you!" the younger man asked hopefully. It seemed an imposr athflity to him. ' *<F% ' "Greater," returned the old man. "I * aai not great. They know me here, but ~ rffl only local. I'm in a nit. But •' you'll be heard from, Boy. See if you are not,'

"II I were as honest," faltered the yoOBB man. The Vfce-Chancrllor smote his thigh. *ltet reminds me," he said, "we're knptng the poor girl «1I this while. Open that door, Boy, if you please." Kin Fortexeue read her notes. Boy lUened. The Inter-State and Tri-SH;.- ';. sue w«s the rase of the year in the Coart Of Chancery. ITpon the Interstate and Tri-State railway were fo CBind the suspicion and the vigilance tt all newspapcrdom. Around the . later-State and Tri State the ,-trifc of " BoUtin was carried on. Platforms were baaed upon it, or ag.ifn«t it. And suddenly, ont of the chaos, a new party had reared its head, a party backed by the local press, chunpioned by decency, j "» The chief pledge -if this party was to ( fight Inter-State and Tri-State to ih» - death, until it l.io-cd its grip upoi the - State that it had bought up. l.»lv and aoul. That State was the State >.f ViceChancellor Stattcrthwalte, and the great " Verger case was not merely the | of a ulrntle stockholder again-i 111- big ' torporatiop. It was the ease of i\v : Vtigit versus fn-atiatc Corruption. THt papers had said it. The people

Miss Fortescue road. Boy listened. Again and again, as he listened, his glance became fixed upon that calendar on the wall—"April 5." It stared him out of countenance. Suddenly he rose to his feet and passed the room. Miss Fortescue had finished reading. "Why—why," gasped the son of the Vice-Chancellor Statterthwaite, "you—you've found in favor of the Inter-State and Tri-State railway! You—you've denied the application of tho writ! You "

"Exactly," returned the Vice-Chancel-[lor dryly, without moving a muscle of his face. "I have found, in accordance with the law. How else could I have found 1"

The young man stood stock-still and looked at his father steadily for fully half-a-minute. Then the greatness, the bigness of it all smote upon him with sudden force.

"What a man you arc!" he burst out. "What a.great man! What a daringlv honest man! At this time, when po*pular clamor would place you ou the highest pedestal in the commonwealth, when you could have all the people of the State kissing the hem of your garment, when editorial approval would fill scrapbooks by the hundreds, to find •" "According to the law," repeated his father, still unmoved "You know now Jdfllt" tneyll say of me—some of them surely, most of them perhaps?" The young man shuddered. He had not thought of that. He did not answer.

"The people and the papers," went on his father calmly, "will say that ViceChancellor Satterthwaite was bought." "They—they dare not!" exclaimed Miss Fortescue. clenching her haird. Then they all laughed. They had to. It was the only way to relieve the tension.

They laughed hysterically. "To-day's the fifth," finally went on the Vic?Chincellor, "and in about ten days' time this 'decision will be handed down. And then "

The decision was handed down on the fifteenth. And the Vice-Chancellor had been right: the storm broke; the conIdemning voice of the people rolled in upon him. There was anathema, pandemonium.

The last citadel has surrendered," said the people's press, "the only honest Vice-Chancellor has been bought." The old man bore it without a murmur. His judicial brains were upheld by the brains of the bar. They dissectted the opinion and found it flawless. But the brand of the people's displeasure and suspicion burns. The Vice-Chan cellnr was flesh and,blood; he winced under the lash. The party of the people was relentless, and the reform Governor hecame the executioner. - ViceChraecllor Satterthwnite's term Of office expired within three years. He had held office for twenty-one years. He had !>een reappointed twice

This time he was dropped. It was probably the inaction that killed him at_last. He knew his health was failing. He talked quite freely about it with his son.

"You know," he would say, "Matthews of the grocery house, and Burtis of Burtis and Co. went to pieces after they retired from active business. It always follows. If a man must keep up he keeps up. If—" There was nothing to do. He was a born Vicc-Chaneellor. The office had been a part of liis life; had entered into bis blood. His office had been as of some vital part. "I'm going to die, Danny," he would «ay.

David Satterthwaite, the son, had married Mary Fortescue shortly before the old man's deafn. There were economies, sacrifices to make. A 7000 dollar income had been ruthlessly cut off. They let Peter and the high-steppers go. They didn't go to Europe. Still, the

I Vice-Chancellor had some money saved. All three knew just how little if was. Daniel Satterthwnite's practice was creeping along in its steady, humdrum

way. He was making a living. They were merely comfortable, the three. "You'll be great, Danny," the old man told him time and time again. "But listen, Boy; read ahont the failures. Why, yes, if—if I make a strike I'd never tell you, Danny. You can't get something for nothing. Boy. You've gwt to pay for what you get. If not in one way then in another. You've got to pay At the very last it semed to Danny as though something troubled the old man. But it was a mere shadow that never even deepened.

"Ytiu watch the failures. You'll bo great. Something for nothing? Never!'' That was the hnrden of his song. Up died, and fully three weeks passed before Daniel Sattcrthwaite undertook to enter the old study with its {rreentloth tabic, and straighten out the old Vice-Chancellor's affairs, such of them as there were to straighten out. He went in alone.

He had been there fully half an hour before he unearthed the six savings-bank liooks and the five trust company's deposit books.

"What in thunder's this!" he exclaimed softly to himself.

He cloned the first of the books—one on the Trust Company of Monroe. "Fifteen thousand dollars!" he exclaimed. He was right. lie could not be mistaken. That book evidenced the fact that the Trust Company had on deposit, to the credit of Sylvester Ratterthwarte, his father, the sum of fifteen thousand dollars. He opened the next. "Ten thousand!" he exclaimed. He looked into a third. "Twenty-seven hundred." It was a Ravings-bank book on a bank whose in-terest-bearing limit was three thousand. The interest had not been written up in any of the books. Hastily, eagerly, Daniel Satterthwaite seized a piece of paper and jotted down the figures one after the other, rapidly, hysterically. He added them.

"One hundred and fifty thousand!" he almost yelled. .

He forced himself to be calm. He went over his addition carefully, and carefully examined each book; carefully assured himself that there was no mistake. Then he strode into the hall and cried at the top of his lungs: "Mary, girl! Oh, Man-!" A distant voice answered: "Coming, Boy!"

He stepped back into the room to wait. Aa he did so his glance fell upon the calendar on the wall. A date came back to him: 5." He stood for an instant like a statue, staring at the calendar. He heard the footsteps of his young wife tripping up the stairs. Terrible inaction seized him. He could [not move. Then as she came breathlessly along the hall, he sprang to the door, shut it and locked her out.

"Boy!" she protested, puzzled, in a pleading voice, from without. •'l—l'm not ready, dear," he answered in a hoarse voice. "I—l only made a IBvistake. I—please go away." : "You're not sick?"

His voice returned: "N*o, no." he laughed pleasantly, speaking to her through the closed door; "it was a false alarm. I thought I had found something, but—l haven't." He went back to the table. He had remembered other things in those Iwoks than the dollars. He had remembered a date here and there. Now with a sliced that was nerve-racking, he tore book after lxx>k open, and glanced at it I once more for an instant.

Each entry, each deposit, had been

made upon the tenth of April some few years before. There were two dates

in that same vear that thrust themselves home: the fi'fth of April in that year and the fifteenth of April in that year. He remembered well. Tt was on the fifth that Marv Fortcscue had read to him her notes "of the Merger ease opinion. It was on the fifteenth that that revised decision ha.l been handed down. A thousand memories were crowding in upon him, drivins him to but one conclii-ion—the inevitable.

lint he fought it hard. He turned Hi- study almost upside down before he finished his nervous, hasty search for evidew'o. He found none. But he jkn»w : his instinct forced him to believe. [.'■ id lie dropped weakly to the lounge \kv] l.iv there, supine, inane.

The people had been Tight: Viecf'h.ineeller Satterthwaite had been bought up by the Interstate and Tris(iite railway.

The price was one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Tt was a good deal. It was something. But the Vice-Chan-cellor had not been able to obtain it for nothing. He had sold bis soul. "If there were only some loophole." iii-ix'Jif Diniel. He racked his brain for =-. mc wav out. Racking it, be turned [,i„ I'.nT-fors-.dten fragments that only 'mad- lert.iinty more certain. The Merger derision had lieen wrong;

-•' h-i-l not been law. !!« recalled now the nights that he In I -!>cnt. al»no. in his own room, with l,is Ikii.V-s. just after Hie Vice-Chancel lor had decided this big case. He remembered the brief he himself had made

up. He had never said a word about it. Why? Because; on one side of a great question had been ranged his father, wisdom incarnate, backed up by the better judgment of the bar. The bur luid said that the opinion had been right. Yet the son, a man without tho courage of his convictions, had known that it was wrong; had worked it out, in solitude, to his own satisfaction. He had supposed that his father, the Vicechancellor, had believed that the decision had been according to law. Now lie saw the truth clearly. Viee-Chau-collor Satterthwaite had known that he was wrong.

"He knew!" groaned Daniel. ''He lied to me, and he sold his soul. I know he did! I know!"

A sudden anger filled his heart, an anger not against his father, but against this hydra-headed monster, the I. and T, S.H.H.; again-t the relentless, pitiless, insatiable greed of a big cor|«)rate machine in the grip of which human flesh and blood were helpless; against this car of Juggernaut that crushed its victims into pulp.

| "He- couldn't belli it! He couldn't help it!" wailed Daniel SatlertJlwaite. "I would Iv'V" -Ame the same.'' Yet hi" knew in his heart of hearts that he never would have yielded. He loved money, yes. But this—it was beyond

He struggled to his feet, and stood, tottering in tho gloom, .shaking his clenched hand in the air. "I—l'll kill you!" lie ti'ied out, as one who would cast a challenge into tho

dragon's throat, for this."

'l'll even up with you

The more he thought of his father—

I his good kind gentle father—his father who would have been honest if he. had been left alone—the more his gorge rose.. "I'll even up with you!" he kept repeating to himself. He started in. It mattered not to him that the big railroad was once more

in the ascendancy; that the reform movement had been beaten down and flattened out; that the necks of the people were bending more than ever under the big corporate burden. Years before, when he had thrashed out the big Merger ease by himself, in solitude, lie hail found n. clean, white pebble of wisdom among his law liooks. It was a pebble fitted for a sling. "Vnry, girl," Daniel Satterthwalite) told his wife, 'it's up to mo to take a fall out of the Phillistines. Tt's a fight to the death. We'll have to Fit up nights, you and I, and work. We've got to win." He didn't tell her why. He did not want to toll her why. He must keep that to himself.

"TTas your client any money?" she asked of him, when he told her casually that he had been retained to fight. He had not told her that he had sought this solitary stockholder out; had bound him by a solemn pledge never to settle, never to retreat; that this client was a figurehead, anil Daniel Satterthwnite was the real complainant.

"He has no' money," Satterthwaite told his wife.

"You might as well throw up your hands," she laughed, "if you're going to fight the I. and T. S.R.Ii., Dan."

He shook his head; his client had no money, but Sa'tterthwaite had. lie had ono hundred and fifty thousand dollars, not for all purposes, but for one purpose. He would-fight the monopoly with its own coin.

He did. Insido of three months the Commonwealth well understood ono thing that It had never known before. It found out, suddenly, that Daniel Saterthwaite was great. Over night he had stepped into the ranks of the few great lawyers in the State. Single-handed, he had entered the arena of events, had tossed his gauntlet lightly into the face of the arch-enemy, the big. invulnerable railroad system. And the, big system had passed out Its retainers and had arrayed on it's side all the able counsel in .the Btate save one. Daniel Satterthwaite had merely laughed, and won. It was all so easy, «o logical, so complete. He developed [a new theory, one simple in its applica-

tion—one sure, swift, true. It's in the law books now. It has been applied in every State from* Maine to Texas. It stood. And on the day that the railroad stepped down and out the people rose as one man and shouted aloud; the voice of the press made itself heard above the tumult; and there was but one burden to the song: "Dan Satterthwaite!"

He was great. They made him fioTcrnor. And then they were not through. They made him United States Senator after that. One day he looked over the trust

company books that he still had left. When hi- added up the moiipy that re-

mained it amounted, not to thousands, hut to hundreds merely. Up smiled. 'lt took it all to smash 'em," he said to himself. "And by Hip way," he reminded himself finally. "I never have straightened out the V.-C-. estate."

Uttle by little, paper by paper, he brought order out of chaos.

''l guess everything is straight now," he told himself. He looked at the calendar. It was midsummer by this, and very hot. duly .">. His mind groped tack to that April .1 that seemed so long ago. Suddenly he started.

"Ultramarine Blue." he said to him*

■lf, "where have I heard that name?"

It was just a fragment. Blue." Then lie laughed.

't'ltramarine "Oil," he

■mid to himself, "it was the old man's 5000 venture! I wonder where those iliares are, anyway. Must'vc thrown em In the waste paper basket, I suppose," he told himself.

Search as he might he could not find them. They had disappeared completely. Tie forgot about them for a time. "l.Ttramarlne Blue," he said: "Pigeon's Egg. Where " . lie seized a daily paper. He sought

\agerly for the financial column.

thought T had seen that name somewhere recently," he said. He found

Ultramarine Blue copper stock was quoted, actually epioted. Quoted? It was more than quoted. It was selling on the market for 200 dollars per share.

"And the old man threw those shares •way!" he groaned.

He searched afresh. lie didn't find them. But away down, away back, in n corner of the old Vice-Chancellor's desk, he found a note, addressed to him. It was written in his father's handwriting. It was dated April 10 of that 'dreaded year. It said:

"Danny, boy, I'll never dare to tell till I'm gone. We little thought five days ago that my venture on the street would pan out right. It has, lam sorry to say; sorry. Danny, because I want to keep you off The Street. I want you to watch the failures, not the successes.

I've wild this stock to-day for ]2.">, liny. The mine's panned out. And I've, kinked the money. Hut I'll never tell you till I'm dead. Bemcmber, I didn't get comcthing for nothing. The 51100 dollars was worth more to me years ago than the 150,000 dollars to-day. You can't get something for nothing, cspeci<illy on the street. Stick to the law, Boy. And some day you'll be great. I know you will. V.-C."

And there, with it, crumpled up, was tho newspaper quotation of the day, with the figures and the explanation of the sudden rise of Ultramarine Blue. "Thank find!" said Dan Satlenthwaile [reverently to himself. A great burden hail been lifted from his soul.

He strode to the door. ".Mary, girl!" he called. She came.

Dan Sattenthwaite groaned.

'1 want

somclmdy to take me out and kick me all round the block, my dear. I—l have just discovered -that I have squandered one hundred and fifty thousand dollars that rightfully belonged to us, and. therefore, dear, by rights belonged to von,"

ITe dropped into a chair and told her all about it.

"As for the hundred and fifty thousand dollars, dear," said Mary, "why, you'll soon make that, somehow, in the llaw."

She was right. He did. For Dan Satterthwailo is not only great. Ho is not only honest. Tie is also rich.