Bertram Atkey

“ It's fierce, the wolves there are in this town,” urged Mr. Jay.
“I have anything to do with them? Oh, Mr. Jay!” Winnie shivered. He nodded.
“I see you haven't changed. Still the same sweet, unspoiled—-er—fresh outlook on life. That's fine—very fine. It's nice to meet somebody who isn't mistrustful watchful—suspicious of their best friends. You want to keep that way.”
There were quick footsteps in the outer office, and Mr. Jay arose. “Here's Mr. Slite, my friend. You will like him—very nice—polished man of the world. Not wolfy, ha-ha! Certainly not! Charming man.” ”

“ Mr. Jay moved his hands rather feebly.
“It's her innocence—her ignorance,” he said. “She doesn't know the value of money!”
“Let me understand,” said Mr. Slite. “You want two thousand pounds down for remaining with Mr. Bradburn and answering no questions about your parents until such time as your engagement is terminated by telegram from me. Is that it?”
“Yes, please,” said Winnie quite simply.
Mr. Jay raised his hands to his jaws like one suffering from toothache, and the almond eyes of Mrs. Eustace Tolbar glowed greenly.
“There is nothing else you require?” demanded Slite. ”

“ Fourth, Boyde and Slite, one of the gang, were careless enough to let me suspect that there was some secret collusion between them. Fifth, Boyde made it completely clear that he had set his heart desperately upon Mr. Bradburn liking me. I think anyone would have wondered a little at all that. So I set to work to puzzle it all out. I learned—from Mrs. Beaton—of that tragic quarrel of Mrs. Cleves with her father, and that there was a daughter. It seemed so odd that the granddaughter should remain unknown to so generous and rich and powerful a man as Mr. Bradburn, and I made some inquiries. ”

“ Cairns Bradburn, who was lying upon a couch in his big, comfortable study.
“The lady I have engaged to read to you, sir—Miss O'Wynn,” said Mr. Boyde.
Winnie found herself looking into a pair of gray eyes from which increasing years and ill health as yet had been powerless to delete the keenness.
As she took in the worn face she realized that Mr. Bradburn was a handsome old man, and if not one who was prone to overleniency nevertheless a just and reasonable man. But it was evident that he was ill—even clear that he had fought his last big fight in the world of business and finance. ”

“ It seems that a great friend of mine is in need of the services of just such a little gentlewoman as yourself. Nothing much—merely to do a little light reading for an invalid. But the lady must be a lady, you understand, such as yourself; natural, reliable, charming, young. As I say, such as yourself. He does not want one of these keen, worldly witty ladies with their future somewhere back in the past, but just a nice, sweet, fresh, innocent little country girl.” Here the telephone spurted a metallic jet of sound at him and he turned. “Ah, there's my friend Slite—just a moment. ”

“ Well, get me to the manor as quickly as you can. It is imperative. You cannot drive too fast to please me and to render a great service to Mr. Bradburn.”
She got in, and the Frenchman swung her across the four miles from the railway station to the house like a stone from a sling. Mrs. Beaton, in tears, met her in the hall.
“The master is very ill,” she whimpered.
Straight to the sunny study went Winnie. She paused on the threshold for a moment. The big table was drawn up close to the couch on which the steel master lay, his face gray, strangely thinner, heavily lined with pain. ”

“ Her quick intuition had almost instantly told her that deep down under the armor of chill, hard reserve which the rich man had been driven to assume by the envious, grasping and rapacious swarms that for years had eddied round his knees, like waves round a lighthouse base, there was a mine of sheer selfless kindliness and good will, and she had been really anxious to please him. ”

“ A client of mine—a valued client is now growing old, and suffers increasingly from failing sight. He has been ever a great reader, and now that he is no longer able to follow the print for himself he is anxious to engage a sympathetic young lady to read to him. The engagement may be only temporary, as my friend—for so I think I may term him—might go abroad shortly. If you will permit me to say so, dear Miss O'Wynn, you are rather young”—Winnie's face fell—“but fortunately,” he hastened to add, “my friend stipulates for a young lady. ”

“ I was afraid you would be out at tea. Are you alone in the office? How lucky for me. . . . It's only a little thing I wanted your advice about—little to you, but important to me. Do you know—have you ever heard of a lady named Winifred May Cleves? She was the daughter of a Mrs. Raymond Cleves. She might be a client of Mr. Jay or of his friend, Mr. Slite.”
It was quite a shot in the dark, but it found the bull. Mr. Golding did know of the lady. He said so—at length and with emphasis. And when, a little later, Winnie sweetly choked him off she had learned several things from the clerk. ”

“ Bradburn's health failed she contrived to meet and to captivate Boyde, and with his assistance they planned to secure the inheritance by means of a reconciliation, in spite of the forgeries. But she is a woman of peculiar temperament and disposition. Her temper is deadly; so deadly that it is not a weakness but an affliction—a curse. ”

“ Jay and a client of Mr. Slite. Gus could not conceive why she was friendly to his employer, and he certainly did not understand how she could permit herself to be a client of Mr. Slite. He spoke with similar definiteness about the lady herself. If Miss O'Wynn would picture a lady exactly different in every respect from herself she would achieve an admirable idea of Miss Cleves.
“She's tall like a Maypole,” said Mr. Golding, “and slender like a long sword. She's twenty-four years old, a rust-red blonde, with a French chalk complexion and geranium lips. ”

“ Jay jumped at that.
“It is, man! I tell you, know her! She is the most ingenuous little girl in town. She feels that way. I know it! I admire her! She shall have a thousand!” But there was agony in his voice.
Slite threw out his arms, glaring. Then a new voice broke in from behind—a woman's voice.
“Let me see her! I will tell you if she is really ingenuous.”
Winnie turned to this far more dangerous attack, and was face to face with that rust-red, French chalk, geranium blonde, Mrs. Eustace Tolbar, the Tiger Cat! Winnie sighed with relief as she looked at her. ”

“ He will not have her mentioned in this house, and I don't think he can be blamed.” The old lady shook her head sadly. “I am afraid her mother passed on her wild hatred of Mr. Bradburn to the girl. It is very sad—mother and daughter alike hating him, who is at heart the kindest man. Give me your cup, my dear.
Winnie passed it in silence, too occupied with her thoughts to speak for a moment. For she had now the clew, the very key, to the windings of the labyrinth in the heart of which, busily spinning its web, sat the spider—Jay, Slite, Mrs. Eustace Tolbar; or was it Boyde, the expressionless? ”

“ A long shaft of sunlight dropping through the deep mullioned window caught her beautiful pile of hair so that it looked like spun gold, and her sweet face was hardly less serious and perturbed than that of the old steel master as, together, they lost themselves in mazy politics of ancient Rome:
“'A people elated by pride or soured by discontent is seldom qualified to form a just estimate of their actual situation. ”

“ He did so briefly, and rang off.
“He is coming round, Miss O'Wynn.”
“Thank you,” said Winnie. She smiled upon Mr. Jay. “You are very kind to a lonely little person new to London and a tiny bit afraid of it,” she continued. “You know, men are so big and clever and quick, and sometimes they seem so—so fierce that they are almost like wolves, aren't they, Mr. Jay? Don't you find it so too?”
Mr. Jay screwed up his eyes.
“Wolves—wolves, do you say, my dear little lady?” he said. “Believe me, there are men in this city that would make a respectable God-fearin' wolf lie down and howl. That's so.” ”

“ Slite softly, and crammed a big wad of notes into her hand. “Here, take this! It's for expenses. Dress yourself well—well, you understand. Quiet, ladylike, demure, but well. Do you see? Well, mind!”
“Very well,” said Winnie submissively.
Boyde turned to the footman, who answered his ring, with instructions that the housekeeper be required to show Miss O'Wynn to her rooms, and this was done. She was a dear old lady—Mrs. Beaton, these many years housekeeper to Mr. Bradburn, and she took Winnie under an ample wing at once. “You're tired, child, my dear,” she said, smiling at the girl. ”

“ I look round me and see other empires making the same terrible mistakes, heading along the same fatal path, so surely and swiftly that one might almost believe they were deliberately modeling themselves upon ancient Rome. ”

“ That the city was full of those whom it amused her to term wolves had become abundantly evident to her, and since she had acquired the beginnings of her fortune, together with raiment befitting a minor capitalist, it was equally evident that it would not be only her slim wild-flower loveliness which attracted the roving eyes of some of the wolves. ”

“ But nowadays they are so sharp and keen that a lonely, unprotected girl can hardly expect more than the scraps which fall from their table.” She smiled.
“Still one may try. The first duty of an officer is to see to the welfare of his men; the first thought of a colonel must always be of his regiment. Daddy never told me that, but he would have if he had thought of it. ”

“ Mr. Jay reminded them, “what is two thousand when we're closing in on millions? Boyde says the old man is crazy about her. You want to keep a sense of proportion, Slite.”
“I want to keep my money—that's what I want to keep,” growled Slite, not altogether unreasonably.
IV
WINNIE took the fastest-looking taxi on the rank to Mr. Slite's bank, cashed the check and promptly paid the resultant notes into her own account. She gave the taxi man five shillings, and that journey cost her five millions.
Then she hurried back to Bradburn Manor. ”

“ Mrs. Beaton was only too willing. Winnie gossiped a little, then dutifully found Boyde, played him a quick nine holes, as Mr. Bradburn had wished her to, and then strolled into the town, where she headed at once to the nearest telephone call office and called up a certain youth who used at least fifty per cent of his brains for the purpose of producing quite hopeless dreams exclusively concerned with Winnie—one Mr. Gus Golding, a clerk for Mr. Jay.
“Is that Mr. Golding?” she cooed. “Ah, dear Mr. Golding, I want you to help me with your advice, please. . . . ”

“ The men who are satisfied with what they have. You won't be troubled much by these, for they are mainly in institutions suitable for them.
“The men who throw away what they have never earned, because they don't know the value of it—it goes to those who do. ”

“ He lives not far from London, in a quiet way, and he would not demand more than, let us say, an average of three or four hours' reading a day. For the rest you would be free to do as you choose—to play golf, to ride, to motor with his secretary, what you choose. ”

“ Bradburn to know who I am, which may mean that they want him to believe me somebody I am not,” she told herself rather intricately.
“And they are in a very great hurry,” she noted further. “So, to sum up, here is the position: Two wolves are in very urgent need of a nice, demure, ingenuous girl to read to a very rich business man in failing health. They seem to desire him to believe that she is a certain person. What person? ”