The Three Partners

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"As happy as a man can be who has his child here with a nurse while his
wife is gallivanting in San Francisco, and throwing her money--and
Lord knows what else--away at the bidding of a smooth-tongued, shady
operator."

"Does HE complain of it?" asked Demorest.

"Not he; the fool trusts her!" said Stacy curtly.

Demorest laughed. "That is happiness! Come, Jim! don't let us begrudge
him that. But I've heard that his affairs have again prospered."

"He built this railroad and this hotel. The bank owns both now. He
didn't care to keep money in them after they were a success; said he
wasn't an engineer nor a hotel-keeper, and drew it out to find something
new. But here he comes," he added, as a horseman dashed into the drive
before the hotel. "Question him yourself. You know you and he always get
along best without me."

In another moment Barker had burst into the room, and in his first
tempestuous greeting of Demorest the latter saw little change in his
younger partner as he held him at arm's length to look at him. "Why,
Barker boy, you haven't got a bit older since the day when--you
remember--you went over to Boomville to cash your bonds, and then came
back and burst upon us like this to tell us you were a beggar."

"Yes," laughed Barker, "and all the while you fellows were holding four
aces up your sleeve in the shape of the big strike."

"And you, Georgy, old boy," returned Demorest, swinging Barker's two
hands backwards and forwards, "were holding a royal flush up yours in
the shape of your engagement to Kitty."

The fresh color died out of Barker's cheek even while the frank laugh
was still on his mouth. He turned his face for a moment towards the
window, and a swift and almost involuntary glance passed between the
others. But he almost as quickly turned his glistening eyes back to
Demorest again, and said eagerly, "Yes, dear Kitty! You shall see her
and the baby to-morrow."

Then they fell upon the supper with the appetites of the Past, and for
some moments they all talked eagerly and even noisily together, all at
the same time, with even the spirits of the Past. They recalled every
detail of their old life; eagerly and impetuously recounted the old
struggles, hopes, and disappointments, gave the strange importance of
schoolboys to unimportant events, and a mystic meaning to a shibboleth
of their own; roared over old jokes with a delight they had never since
given to new; reawakened idiotic nicknames and bywords with intense
enjoyment; grew grave, anxious, and agonized over forgotten names,
trifling dates, useless distances, ineffective records, and feeble
chronicles of their domestic economy. It was the thoughtful and
melancholy Demorest who remembered the exact color and price paid for
a certain shirt bought from a Greaser peddler amidst the envy of his
companions; it was the financial magnate, Stacy, who could inform them
what were the exact days they had saleratus bread and when flapjacks;
it was the thoughtless and mercurial Barker who recalled with unheard-of
accuracy, amidst the applause of the others, the full name of the
Indian squaw who assisted at their washing. Even then they were almost
feverishly loath to leave the subject, as if the Past, at least, was
secure to them still, and they were even doubtful of their own free and
full accord in the Present. Then they slipped rather reluctantly
into their later experiences, but with scarcely the same freedom or
spontaneity; and it was noticeable that these records were elicited from
Barker by Stacy or from Stacy by Barker for the information of Demorest,
often with chaffing and only under good-humored protest. "Tell Demorest
how you broke the 'Copper Ring,'" from the admiring Barker, or, "Tell
Demorest how your d----d foolishness in buying up the right and plant of
the Ditch Company got you control of the railroad," from the mischievous
Stacy, were challenges in point. Presently they left the table, and, to
the astonishment of the waiters who removed the cloth, common brier-wood
pipes, thoughtfully provided by Barker in commemoration of the Past,
were lit, and they ranged themselves in armchairs before the fire quite
unconsciously in their old attitudes. The two windows on either side of
the hearth gave them the same view that the open door of the old cabin
had made familiar to them, the league-long valley below the shadowy bulk
of the Black Spur rising in the distance, and, still more remote, the
pallid snow-line that soared even beyond its crest.

As in the old time, they were for many moments silent; and then, as in
the old time, it was the irrepressible Barker who broke the silence.
"But Stacy does not tell you anything about his friend, the beautiful
Mrs. Horncastle. You know he's the guardian of one of the finest women
in California--a woman as noble and generous as she is handsome. And
think of it! He's protecting her from her brute of a husband, and
looking after her property. Isn't it good and chivalrous of him?"

The irrepressible laughter of the two men brought only wonder and
reproachful indignation into the widely opened eyes of Barker. HE was
perfectly sincere. He had been thinking of Stacy's admiration for
Mrs. Horncastle in his ride from Boomville, and, strange to say, yet
characteristic of his nature, it was equally the natural outcome of his
interview with her and the singular effect she had upon him. That he
(Barker) thoroughly sympathized with her only convinced him that Stacy
must feel the same for her, and that, no doubt, she must respond to him
equally. And how noble it was in his old partner, with his advantages of
position in the world and his protecting relations to her, not to avail
himself of this influence upon her generous nature. If he himself--a
married man and the husband of Kitty--was so conscious of her charm, how
much greater it must be to the free and INEXPERIENCED Stacy.

The italics were in Barker's thought; for in those matters he felt
that Stacy and even Demorest, occupied in other things, had not his
knowledge. There was no idea or consciousness of heroically sacrificing
himself or Mrs. Horncastle in this. I am afraid there was not even an
idea of a superior morality in himself in giving up the possibility
of loving her. Ever since Stacy had first seen her he had fancied that
Stacy liked her,--indeed, Kitty fancied it, too,--and it seemed almost
providential now that he should know how to assist his old partner to
happiness. For it was inconceivable that Stacy should not be able
to rescue this woman from her shameful bonds, or that she should not
consent to it through his (Barker's) arguments and entreaties. To a
"champion of dames" this seemed only right and proper. In his unfailing
optimism he translated Stacy's laugh as embarrassment and Demorest's as
only ignorance of the real question. But Demorest had noticed, if he had
not, that Stacy's laugh was a little nervously prolonged for a man of
his temperament, and that he had cast a very keen glance at Barker. A
messenger arriving with a telegram brought from Boomville called Stacy
momentarily away, and Barker was not slow to take advantage of his
absence.

"I wish, Phil," he said, hitching his chair closer to Demorest,
"that you would think seriously of this matter, and try to persuade
Stacy--who, I believe, is more interested in Mrs. Horncastle than he
cares to show--to put a little of that determination in love that he has
shown in business. She's an awfully fine woman, and in every way suited
to him, and he is letting an absurd sense of pride and honor keep him
from influencing her to get rid of her impossible husband. There's no
reason," continued Barker in a burst of enthusiastic simplicity, "that
BECAUSE she has found some one she likes better, and who would treat
her better, that she should continue to stick to that beast whom all
California would gladly see her divorced from. I never could understand
that kind of argument, could you?"

Demorest looked at his companion's glowing cheek and kindling eye with
a smile. "A good deal depends upon the side from which you argue. But,
frankly, Barker boy, though I think I know you in all your phases, I am
not prepared yet to accept you as a match-maker! However, I'll think it
over, and find out something more of this from your goddess, who seems
to have bewitched you both. But what does Mistress Kitty say to your
admiration?"

Barker's face clouded, but instantly brightened. "Oh, they're the best
of friends; they're quite like us, you know, even to larks they have
together." He stopped and colored at his slip. But Demorest, who had
noticed his change of expression, was more concerned at the look of half
incredulity and half suspicion with which Stacy, who had re-entered
the room in time to hear Barker's speech, was regarding his unconscious
younger partner.

"I didn't know that Mrs. Horncastle and Mrs. Barker were such friends,"
he said dryly as he sat down again. But his face presently became so
abstracted that Demorest said gayly:--

"Well, Jim, I'm glad I'm not a Napoleon of Finance! I couldn't stand
it to have my privacy or my relaxation broken in upon at any moment, as
yours was just now. What confounded somersault in stocks has put that
face on you?"

Stacy looked up quickly with his brief laugh. "I'm afraid you'd be none
the wiser if I told you. That was a pony express messenger from New
York. You remember how Barker, that night of the strike, when we were
sitting together here, or very near here, proposed that we ought to have
a password or a symbol to call us together in case of emergency, for
each other's help? Well, let us say I have two partners, one in Europe
and one in New York. That was my password."

"And, I hope, no more serious than ours," added Demorest.

Stacy laughed his short laugh. Nevertheless, the conversation dragged
again. The feverish gayety of the early part of the evening was gone,
and they seemed to be suffering from the reaction. They fell into their
old attitudes, looking from the firelight to the distant bulk of Black
Spur without a word. The occasional sound of the voices of promenaders
on the veranda at last ceased; there was the noise of the shutting of
heavy doors below, and Barker rose.

"You'll excuse me, boys; but I must go and say good-night to little
Sta, and see that he's all right. I haven't seen him since I got back.
But"--to Demorest--"you'll see him to-morrow, when Kitty comes. It is as
much as my life is worth to show him before she certifies him as being
presentable." He paused, and then added: "Don't wait up, you fellows,
for me; sometimes the little chap won't let me go. It's as if he
thought, now Kitty's away, I was all he had. But I'll be up early in the
morning and see you. I dare say you and Stacy have a heap to say to each
other on business, and you won't miss me. So I'll say good-night." He
laughed lightly, pressed the hands of his partners in his usual hearty
fashion, and went out of the room, leaving the gloom a little deeper
than before. It was so unusual for Barker to be the first to leave
anybody or anything in trouble that they both noticed it. "But for
that," said Demorest, turning to Stacy as the door closed, "I should say
the dear fellow was absolutely unchanged. But he seemed a little anxious
to-night."

"I shouldn't wonder. He's got two women on his mind,--as if one was not
enough."

"I don't understand. You say his wife is foolish, and this other"--

"Never mind that now," interrupted Stacy, getting up and putting down
his pipe. "Let's talk a little business. That other stuff will keep."

"By all means," said Demorest, with a smile, settling down into his
chair a little wearily, however. "I forgot business. And I forgot, my
dear Jim, to congratulate you. I've heard all about you, even in New
York. You're the man who, according to everybody, now holds the
finances of the Pacific Slope in his hands. And," he added, leaning
affectionately towards his old partner, "I don't know any one better
equipped in honesty, straightforwardness, and courage for such a
responsibility than you."

"I only wish," said Stacy, looking thoughtfully at Demorest, "that I
didn't hold nearly a million of your money included in the finances of
the Pacific Slope."

"Why," said the smiling Demorest, "as long as I am satisfied?"

"Because I am not. If you're satisfied, I'm a wretched idiot and not
fit for my position. Now, look here, Phil. When you wrote me to sell
out your shares in the Wheat Trust I was a little staggered. I knew your
gait, my boy, and I knew, too, that, while you didn't know enough to
trust your own opinions or feeling, you knew too much to trust any one's
opinion that wasn't first-class. So I reckoned you had the straight tip;
but I didn't see it. Now, I ought not to have been staggered if I was
fit for your confidence, or, if I was staggered, I ought to have had
enough confidence in myself not to mind you. See?"

"I admit your logic, old man," said Demorest, with an amused face, "but
I don't see your premises. WHEN did I tell you to sell out?"

"Two days ago. You wrote just after you arrived."

"I have never written to you since I arrived. I only telegraphed to you
to know where we should meet, and received your message to come here."

"You never wrote me from San Francisco?"

"Never."

Stacy looked concernedly at his friend. Was he in his right mind? He had
heard of cases where melancholy brooding on a fixed idea had affected
the memory. He took from his pocket a letter-case, and selecting a
letter handed it to Demorest without speaking.

Demorest glanced at it, turned it over, read its contents, and in
a grave voice said, "There is something wrong here. It is like my
handwriting, but I never wrote the letter, nor has it been in my hand
before."

Stacy sprang to his side. "Then it's a forgery!"

"Wait a moment." Demorest, who, although very grave, was the more
collected of the two, went to a writing-desk, selected a sheet of paper,
and took up a pen. "Now," he said, "dictate that letter to me."

Stacy began, Demorest's pen rapidly following him:--

"DEAR JIM,--On receipt of this get rid of my Wheat Trust shares at
whatever figure you can. From the way things pointed in New York"--

"Stop!" interrupted Demorest.

"Well?" said Stacy impatiently.

"Now, my dear Jim," said Demorest plaintively, "when did you ever know
me to write such a sentence as 'the way things pointed'?"

"Let me finish reading," said Stacy. This literary sensitiveness at such
a moment seemed little short of puerility to the man of business.

"From the way things pointed in New York," continued Stacy, "and from
private advices received, this seems to be the only prudent course
before the feathers begin to fly. Longing to see you again and the dear
old stamping-ground at Heavy Tree. Love to Barker. Has the dear old boy
been at any fresh crank lately?

"Yours, PHIL DEMOREST."

The dictation and copy finished together. Demorest laid the freshly
written sheet beside the letter Stacy had produced. They were very much
alike and yet quite distinct from each other. Only the signature seemed
identical.

"That's the invariable mistake with the forger," said Demorest; "he
always forgets that signatures ought to be identical with the text
rather than with each other."

But Stacy did not seem to hear this or require further proof. His face
was quite gray and his lips compressed until lost in his closely set
beard as he gazed fixedly out of the window. For the first time, really
concerned and touched, Demorest laid his hand gently on his shoulder.

"Tell me, Jim, how much does this mean to you apart from me? Don't think
of me."

"I don't know yet," said Stacy slowly. "That's the trouble. And I won't
know until I know who's at the bottom of it. Does anybody know of your
affairs with me?"

"No one."

"No confidential friend, eh?"

"None."

"No one who has access to your secrets? No--no--woman? Excuse me, Phil,"
he said, as a peculiar look passed over Demorest's face, "but this is
business."

"No," he returned, with that gentleness that used to frighten them
in the old days, "it's ignorance. You fellows always say 'Cherchez la
femme' when you can't say anything else. Come now," he went on more
brightly, "look at the letter. Here's a man, commercially educated,
for he has used the usual business formulas, 'on receipt of this,' and
'advices received,' which I won't merely say I don't use, but which
few but commercial men use. Next, here's a man who uses slang, not only
ineptly, but artificially, to give the letter the easy, familiar turn
it hasn't from beginning to end. I need only say, my dear Stacy, that
I don't write slang to you, but that nobody who understands slang ever
writes it in that way. And then the knowledge of my opinion of Barker is
such as might be gained from the reading of my letters by a person who
couldn't comprehend my feelings. Now, let me play inquisitor for a few
moments. Has anybody access to my letters to YOU?"

"No one. I keep them locked up in a cabinet. I only make memorandums of
your instructions, which I give to my clerks, but never your letters."

"But your clerks sometimes see you make memorandums from them?"

"Yes, but none of them have the ability to do this sort of thing, nor
the opportunity of profiting by it."

"Has any woman--now this is not retaliation, my dear Jim, for I fancy I
detect a woman's cleverness and a woman's stupidity in this forgery--any
access to your secrets or my letters? A woman's villainy is always
effective for the moment, but always defective when probed."

The look of scorn which passed over Stacy's face was quite as distinct
as Demorest's previous protest, as he said contemptuously, "I'm not such
a fool as to mix up petticoats with my business, whatever I do."

"Well, one thing more. I have told you that in my opinion the forger has
a commercial education or style, that he doesn't know me nor Barker, and
don't understand slang. Now, I have to add what must have occurred
to you, Jim, that the forger is either a coward, or his object is not
altogether mercenary: for the same ability displayed in this letter
would on the signature alone--had it been on a check or draft--have
drawn from your bank twenty times the amount concerned. Now, what is the
actual loss by this forgery?"

"Very little; for you've got a good price for your stocks, considering
the depreciation in realizing suddenly on so large an amount. I told my
broker to sell slowly and in small quantities to avoid a panic. But the
real loss is the control of the stock."

"But the amount I had was not enough to affect that," said Demorest.

"No, but I was carrying a large amount myself, and together we
controlled the market, and now I have unloaded, too."

"You sold out! and with your doubts?" said Demorest.

"That's just it," said Stacy, looking steadily at his companion's face,
"because I HAD doubts, and it won't do for me to have them. I ought
either to have disobeyed your letter and kept your stock and my own, or
have done just what I did. I might have hedged on my own stock, but
I don't believe in hedging. There is no middle course to a man in my
business if he wants to keep at the top. No great success, no great
power, was ever created by it."

Demorest smiled. "Yet you accept the alternative also, which is ruin?"

"Precisely," said Stacy. "When you returned the other day you were bound
to find me what I was or a beggar. But nothing between. However," he
added, "this has nothing to do with the forgery, or," he smiled grimly,
"everything to do with it. Hush! Barker is coming."

There was a quick step along the corridor approaching the room. The
next moment the door flew open to the bounding step and laughing face
of Barker. Whatever of thoughtfulness or despondency he had carried from
the room with him was completely gone. With his amazing buoyancy and
power of reaction he was there again in his usual frank, cheerful
simplicity.

"I thought I'd come in and say goodnight," he began, with a laugh.
"I got Sta asleep after some high jinks we had together, and then I
reckoned it wasn't the square thing to leave just you two together, the
first night you came. And I remembered I had some business to talk over,
too, so I thought I'd chip in again and take a hand. It's only the shank
of the evening yet," he continued gayly, "and we ought to sit up at
least long enough to see the old snow-line vanish, as we did in old
times. But I say," he added suddenly, as he glanced from the one to the
other, "you've been having it pretty strong already. Why, you both look
as you did that night the backwater of the South Fork came into our
cabin. What's up?"

"Nothing," said Demorest hastily, as he caught a glance of Stacy's
impatient face. "Only all business is serious, Barker boy, though you
don't seem to feel it so."

"I reckon you're right there," said Barker, with a chuckle. "People
always laugh, of course, when I talk business, so it might make it a
little livelier for you and more of a change if I chipped in now. Only I
don't know which you'll do. Hand me a pipe. Well," he continued, filling
the pipe Demorest shoved towards him, "you see, I was in Sacramento
yesterday, and I went into Van Loo's branch office, as I heard he was
there, and I wanted to find out something about Kitty's investments,
which I don't think he's managing exactly right. He wasn't there,
however, but as I was waiting I heard his clerks talk about a drop in
the Wheat Trust, and that there was a lot of it put upon the market.
They seemed to think that something had happened, and it was going down
still further. Now I knew it was your pet scheme, and that Phil had a
lot of shares in it, too, so I just slipped out and went to a broker's
and told him to buy all he could of it. And, by Jove! I was a little
taken aback when I found what I was in for, for everybody seemed to have
unloaded, and I found I hadn't money enough to pay margins, but I knew
that Demorest was here, and I reckoned on his seeing me through." He
stopped and colored, but added hopefully, "I reckon I'm safe, anyway,
for just as the thing was over those same clerks of Van Loo's came
bounding into the office to buy up everything. And offered to take it
off my hands and pay the margins."

"And you?" said both men eagerly, and in a breath.

Barker stared at them, and reddened and paled by turns. "I held on," he
stammered. "You see, boys"--

Both men had caught him by the arms. "How much have you got?" they said,
shaking him as if to precipitate the answer.

"It's a heap!" said Barker. "It's a ghastly lot now I think of it. I'm
afraid I'm in for fifty thousand, if a cent."

To his infinite astonishment and delight he was alternately hugged and
tossed backwards and forwards between the two men quite in the fashion
of the old days. Breathless but laughing, he at length gasped out, "What
does it all mean?"

"Tell him everything, Jim,--EVERYTHING," said Demorest quickly.

Stacy briefly related the story of the forgery, and then laid the letter
and its copy before him. But Barker only read the forgery.

"How could YOU, Stacy--one of the three partners of Heavy Tree--be
deceived! Don't you see it's Phil's handwriting--but it isn't PHIL!"

"But have you any idea WHO it is?" said Stacy.

"Not me," said Barker, with widely opened eyes. "You see it must be
somebody whom we are familiar with. I can't imagine such a scoundrel."

"How did YOU know that Demorest had stock?" asked Stacy.

"He told me in one of his letters and advised me to go into it. But just
then Kitty wanted money, I think, and I didn't go in."

"I remember it," struck in Demorest. "But surely it was no secret. My
name would be on the transfer books for any one to see."

"Not so," said Stacy quickly. "You were one of the original
shareholders; there was no transfer, and the books as well as the shares
of the company were in my hands."

"And your clerks?" added Demorest.

Stacy was silent. After a pause he asked, "Did anybody ever see that
letter, Barker?"

"No one but myself and Kitty."

"And would she be likely to talk of it?" continued Stacy.

"Of course not. Why should she? Whom could she talk to?" Yet he stopped
suddenly, and then with his characteristic reaction added, with a laugh,
"Why no, certainly not."

"Of course, everybody knew that you had bought the shares at
Sacramento?"

"Yes. Why, you know I told you the Van Loo clerks came to me and wanted
to take it off my hands."

"Yes, I remember; the Van Loo clerks; they knew it, of course," said
Stacy with a grim smile. "Well, boys," he said, with sudden alacrity,
"I'm going to turn in, for by sun-up to-morrow I must be on my way to
catch the first train at the Divide for 'Frisco. We'll hunt this thing
down together, for I reckon we're all concerned in it," he added,
looking at the others, "and once more we're partners as in the old
times. Let us even say that I've given Barker's signal or password," he
added, with a laugh, "and we'll stick together. Barker boy," he went on,
grasping his younger partner's hand, "your instinct has saved us this
time; d----d if I don't sometimes think it better than any other man's
sabe; only," he dropped his voice slightly, "I wish you had it in other
things than FINANCE. Phil, I've a word to say to you alone before I go.
I may want you to follow me."