The Secret of the Reef Read online

  CHAPTER XXIII--THE FIRST ATTACK

  Clay made no marked change in his mode of living, and shortly after hisvisit to the doctor he engaged in a struggle with a group of speculatorswho opposed one of his business schemes. They were clever men, withmoney enough to make them troublesome enemies, and Clay realized that hemust spare no effort if he meant to win. He beat them and determined toexact a heavy indemnity, but the battle was stubbornly fought and duringthe month it lasted he had little rest by night or day. Long after thecity offices were closed he entertained his supporters in his rooms atthe hotel, and, rising early, altered and improved his plans before thebusiness day began.

  To his delight, he felt no bad effects; he was somewhat limp and lazy,but that, no doubt, was a natural reaction from the strain. He couldnow, however, afford to take a few days' rest, and he telegraphedAynsley that he would spend the week-end at Osborne's house, which wasalways open to both. Enjoying the first-fruits of his victory, in theshape of some tempting offers, shortly before he left his office, hetraveled down the Sound in high content, and, to complete hissatisfaction, he learned on arriving that Aynsley had secured some largeand profitable orders for lumber.

  Dinner was served early on the Saturday evening, and Clay, finding thathe had an excellent appetite, ate and drank more than usual. He wasquite well, he told himself, but had had an anxious time and neededbracing. Miss Dexter watched him with disapproval when, after dinner wasfinished, he stood in the hall with a large glass in his hand. The manhad a high color, but his eyes had a strained look and his lips acurious bluish tinge. He appeared to be quite sober, which caused hersome surprise, but he was talking rather freely and his laugh was harsh.She thought he looked coarse and overbearing in his present mood.

  The large hall was tastefully paneled in cedar, a fire of pine logsburned on the open hearth, and small lamps hung among the woodenpillars. A drawing-room and a billiard-room, both warmed and lighted,opened out of it, but Osborne left his guests to do what they likedbest, and nobody seemed inclined to move. Ruth and Aynsley were talkingnear the hearth, Miss Dexter had some embroidery in her hands, andOsborne lounged in a deep chair beside the table. Clay, with the nowempty glass in his hand, leaned negligently upon the table, feeling wellsatisfied with himself. His manners were not polished, but he was awareof it, and never pretended to graces he did not possess. He smiled whenhe caught Miss Dexter's censorious glance.

  "I'm often in trouble, ma'am, and find I can't fight on coffee andice-water," he explained humorously.

  "Perhaps that's one of their advantages," Miss Dexter replied. "But aswe're not quarrelsome people, you ought to enjoy a few days' peace."

  "That's so. I guess I warmed up over telling your brother-in-law aboutmy latest battle." He turned to Osborne. "Frame and Nesbitt were in thismorning, ready to take what I'd give them on their knees. Fletcher cameand tried to bluff, but he wilted when I cracked the whip. I have thegang corralled, and they'll go broke before they get out."

  Clay's rather obvious failings included an indulgence in coarsevainglory, though he had generally the sense to check it when it mightprove a handicap. Now, however, he was in an expansive mood, inclined tomake the most of his triumph.

  "The joke is that they were plumb-sure they'd squeeze me dry," he wenton. "Got hold of a tip about the development land purchase plan andnever guessed I'd planted it for them. Morgan cost me high, and hisnerve is bad, but he's a cute little rat, and works well in the dark."

  "I thought the opposition had bought him," Osborne said.

  "So they did," Clay chuckled. "Now they want his blood, and I believeDenby's mad enough about it to have him sandbagged. That plays into myhand, because the fellow will stick to me for protection. If he tries tostrike me for extra pay, I've only to threaten I'll throw him to thewolves. Guess the way they're howling has scared him pretty bad."

  "Have you begun the clean-up yet?"

  "Washed out the first panful before I came away," Clay replied inminers' phraseology. "Ten thousand dollars for two small back lots. It'sall good pay-dirt, carrying heavy metal."

  "In a way, I'm sorry for Fletcher. He's had a bad time lately, and, ashe has got into low water, I'm afraid this will finish him."

  "He joined the gang. Now he has to take the consequences."

  Clay saw that Miss Dexter was listening with disapproval. He was notaverse to having an audience and he had spoken loudly.

  "If you saw the people who'd conspired to rob you come to grief throughtheir greediness, what would you do about it, Miss Dexter?" he asked.

  "I should try not to gloat over their downfall," she answered with someasperity.

  "Looks better," Clay agreed. "But when I have the fellows down, it seemsprudent to see that they don't get up again too soon."

  Miss Dexter studied him. Admitting that modesty would have become himbetter, she did not believe he was boasting at random. There was powerin the man, though she imagined he did not often use it well. Shedisliked his principles, and he frequently repelled her, but sometimesshe felt attracted. He had, she thought, a better side than the one hegenerally showed.

  "Does it never pay to be merciful?" she asked.

  "Very seldom. In my line of business you have, as a rule, to break or bebroken hard. It's a hard fight. I keep the rules of the ring. Sometimesthey're pretty liberally interpreted, but if you go too far, you gethustled out and disqualified. In this country the stakes are high, butI've been through the hardest training since I was a boy, and I've gotto win." He paused with a glance toward Aynsley. "Sounds prettyegotistical, doesn't it? But I know my powers, and I can't be stopped."

  His forceful air gave him a touch of dignity and redeemed the crudedaring of his boast. Osborne looked at him curiously, but Miss Dexterfelt half daunted. She thought his attitude grossly defiant; theinordinate pride he showed would bring its punishment.

  "It sounds very rash," she said. "You don't know what you may have tocontend with."

  Clay laughed harshly.

  "I've some suspicion; but there comes a time, often after years ofstruggle, when a man knows he has only to hold on and win the game.Curious, isn't it? But he does know, and sets his teeth as he braceshimself for the effort that's going to give him the prize."

  He spoke with vehemence, the color darkening in his face. Miss Dexterwondered whether the last glass of whisky and potass had gone to hishead; but the flush suddenly faded and his lips turned blue. Osborne wasthe first to notice it. Jumping up, he grabbed Clay by the arms andshoved him toward the nearest chair. Clay fell into it heavily, andbegan fumbling at his vest pocket, but he soon let his hand drop in anerveless manner. The next moment Aynsley was at his side. The hall waslarge, and the boy had been sitting some distance off, but he did notrun and he made no noise. He had inherited his father's swiftness ofaction, and Ruth, following in alarm, noticed the lithe grace of hismovements. The girl's impressions were, however, somewhat blurred, andit was not until afterward that the scene fixed itself vividly in hermind.

  "Perhaps we'd better get the car out," Aynsley said quickly. "We maywant it if this is going to last."

  Osborne rang a bell and there was silence for a few moments while theywaited, uncertain what to do. Clay's face was livid and his eyes werehalf shut. He seemed unconscious of their presence, and they imaginedthat he was struggling against the weakness that was mastering him. Hislips were tight set, his brows knit, and his hand was firmly clenched.Osborne gave an order to a servant, who immediately disappeared, andthen Clay's tense pose relaxed. He sank back in the chair, loose andlimp, as if all power had suddenly gone out of him.

  The change was more startling to those watching than the first attack.They had long known his strength and resolution; but now he lay inert,with head falling forward, a bulky, flaccid figure, suddenly stripped ofeverything that had made him feared. He was grotesque in hishelplessness, and Ruth had a curious feeling that there was somethingunfitting, almost indecent, in their watching him. It appeared, however,that he was conscious,
for when Osborne held a glass to his lips hefeebly moved his head in refusal, and his slack fingers began to fumbleat the pocket again.

  "There's something he wants there!" Ruth said sharply. "Perhaps it'ssomething he ought to take!"

  Aynsley thrust his hand into the pocket and brought out a small bottle.

  "Six drops," he read out and was about to lift his father's head whenMiss Dexter stopped him.

  "No," she said; "you'll spill it. Wait for a spoon."

  She brought one and with some trouble they administered the dose. For awhile there was no visible result, and then Clay sighed and with a slackmovement changed his pose. A little later he opened his eyes andbeckoned.

  "The medicine!" Aynsley requested in a hoarse voice.

  "No," said Miss Dexter firmly. "He has had six drops."

  Aynsley yielded, for it was plain that his father was recovering. Amoment later Clay raised himself in his chair and looked at Miss Dexterwith a feeble, apologetic smile.

  "Sorry I made this disturbance."

  "Are you feeling better?" Aynsley asked.

  "Quite all right in a minute." Clay turned to Osborne. "It would be badmanners to blame your cook; guess the fault was mine. Got breakfastearly, and had no time for lunch."

  Though he had made a hearty dinner, the explanation he suggested did notsatisfy the others, and Ruth thought it significant that he had made itso promptly. They did not, however, trouble him with questions, andafter a while he rose and walked to another chair.

  "The car won't be needed," Aynsley said to Osborne.

  "The car?" Clay interposed. "What did you want it for?"

  "We had thought of sending for a doctor," Aynsley answereddeprecatingly.

  Clay frowned.

  "Shucks! You're easily scared; I wouldn't have seen him. Where's thatbottle?" He slipped it hastily into his pocket and turned to Ruth. "Verysorry all this happened; feel ashamed of myself. Now I wonder whetheryou'll give us some music."

  They went into the drawing-room, and Clay chose an easy chair at somedistance from the others. He cared nothing for music, but he felt shaky,and he was glad of an excuse for sitting quiet. Moreover, he wanted timeto think. It looked as if the doctor, whom he had begun to doubt, hadafter all been right. He had had a warning which he could not neglect;and as he rather vacantly watched the girl at the piano it was borne inupon him that she had probably saved his life. The others had thoughthim insensible, but she had guessed that he was feeling for the remedywhich had pulled him round.

  It was a pity she had refused Aynsley, but he bore her no ill-will,although he was generally merciless to those who thwarted him. He wouldhave liked to thank her, but that was inadvisable, for he must not admitthat he had had a dangerous attack. Then it struck him that if he wereseriously threatened, it might be well to take precautions. There was agood offer he had received for some property he wished to sell, but hehad not answered because all the terms were not settled, and he did notwish to seem eager. It might be better to close the matter now. When hehad thanked Ruth for the song, he quietly made his way to Osborne'swriting-room.

  It was necessary to write several letters, and he found his fingersnerveless and composition difficult. Indeed, he laid the pen down andthen resolutely took it up again. He was not going to be beaten by abodily weakness, and nobody must notice that his writing was shaky. Hetore up the first letter and wrote it again in a firm, legible hand,though the sweat the effort cost him gathered on his forehead. Hisschemes must be completed and all his affairs straightened out before hegave in. The man was ruthless and unscrupulous, but he had unflinchingcourage and an indomitable will.

  In the billiard-room Osborne was talking to Aynsley.

  "What do you think about your father?" he asked.

  "I'm anxious. Of course, he made light of the matter, and, so far as Iknow, he's never been troubled in this way before, but I didn't like hislook."

  "It struck me as significant that he'd seen a doctor," Osborne remarked."The bottle proves that. From the careful directions about the dose itmust have been made up from a prescription. Anyway, he's been overdoingit lately, and perhaps you had better go along and see what he's about.If he's attending to any business, make him stop and bring him down."

  Aynsley entered the writing-room and left it in a few minutes, rudelydismissed. Coming down, he made an excuse for taking Ruth into the hall.

  "I know you'll do me a favor," he begged.

  "Of course. I suppose it concerns your father?"

  Aynsley nodded.

  "He's writing letters, and I'm afraid it will do him harm. He looks farfrom fit, but he's in a most contrary mood, and ordered me out when Ihinted that he'd better stop. Knowing what he's capable of, I thoughtI'd better go."

  He spoke lightly, but Ruth saw the uneasiness he wished to conceal.

  "Do you think I could persuade him?"

  "I'd like you to try. Anyway, he won't be rude to you; and I've asuspicion that you have some influence over him. You ought to beflattered, because nobody else has."

  Ruth went to the writing-room and stood beside Clay with a reproachfulsmile. She felt pitiful. The man looked ill.

  "We really can't allow you to leave us in this way," she said. "Besides,it's too late to think of business matters."

  "I suppose Aynsley sent you," he answered with grim bluntness. "It wouldbe better if you took him in hand instead of me. The boy wants lookingafter; he's got no nerve."

  "You ought not to blame him for feeling anxious about you. However, I'myour hostess and I don't think you are treating me well. When I tell youto put away those papers you can't disobey."

  Clay gave her a steady look.

  "Anything you ask me will be done," he said. "But, as a favor, will yougive me another five minutes?"

  "Of course. But you might exceed it, so I think I'll wait."

  Before the time had quite elapsed Clay closed the last envelope with afirm hand, and a few minutes later they entered the drawing-room andAynsley gave Ruth a grateful glance.

  When Clay returned to Vancouver he called at once on the doctor; andwhen he left his face was grim, for he had been plainly told that he wasworse, and must change his mode of life at once; but this was more thanClay could consent to do. He had money in a number of ventures, none ofwhich had yet achieved the success he looked for. Time was needed beforehe could bring them to the desired consummation, and if he sold out nowit must be at a sacrifice of the handsome profit that might otherwise besecured. He would be left with only a moderate fortune, and he meant tobe rich. Ambitious as he was for his son, he had also a keen reluctanceto leaving his work half finished. In fact, it was obvious that he musthold on for a year or two longer.

  Moreover, the doctor had warned him against increasing the dose of therestorative, which Clay admitted having done. The powerful drug hadbraced him up when he suffered from reaction after any unusual strainand he had come to regard it as a reliable standby. Now he must curtailits use, and he would feel the deprivation. Then, since he was runningsome risk, it was advisable to take precautions. First of all, the wreckmust be destroyed. If he should be cut off suddenly, no evidence must beleft behind to spoil his son's career. Aynsley must bear an untarnishedname.

  The first step would be to get Jimmy Farquhar and his companions out ofthe way--to buy them off if possible; if not--A hard look crept intoClay's eyes, and he sat down at once and wrote a short note to Jimmy.