Flowing Gold | Page 6

interval of
grace. Haviland was probably in a cold rage at the discovery of the
fraud, and Gray could only hope that he wouldn't get noisy over it, for
scenes were always annoying and sometimes they ran to unfortunate
lengths.
There was a curious brightness to the imposter's eyes, a reckless,
mocking smile upon his lips, when he stepped into the manager's office
and stood beside the desk. He declined Haviland's invitation to be
seated--it seemed more fitting that a man should take sentence on his
feet.
"Have you seen the Post?" the manager inquired.
"No."
Haviland handed him a copy of the leading afternoon paper, and Gray's
eyes flashed to the headline of an article reading:

CALVIN GRAY, HERO OF SENSATIONAL EXPLOITS, IN
DALLAS ADVENTURES READ LIKE PAGE OF ROMANCE
FAMOUS FINANCIER ADMITS LARGE OIL INTERESTS
BEHIND HIM
From the opening paragraph Gray judged that he had impressed the
reporter even more deeply than he had supposed, but he took no
satisfaction there from, for Haviland was saying:
"I've read the whole story, but I want you to tell me something more
about yourself."
"What do you wish to know?"
"Were you in France?"
Over the visitor's face there came a subtle change. Whereas, upon
entering, he had worn an expression of careless defiance, now he
appeared 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 his
interrogator, 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? Out with
it."
The interview had taken an unexpectedly disagreeable turn. Gray had
anticipated an unpleasant moment or two, but this--well, it was indeed
the crash. Calamity had overtaken him from the very quarter he had
least expected and most dreaded, and his mind raced off at a tangent; a
dozen unwelcome queries presented themselves.

"Strange what circles we move in," Haviland was saying. "Do you
know who owns the controlling interest in this hotel? Surely you must
know or can guess. Think a moment. It's somebody you met over there
and have reason to remember."
A sound escaped, from the throat of Colonel Gray--not a cry, but rather
a gasp of amazement, or of rage.
"Aha!" Haviland grinned in triumph. "I thought--"
His guest leaned forward over the desk, with face twitching. Passion
had driven the blood from it, and his whole expression was one of such
hatred, such fury, the metamorphosis was so startling, that the hotel
man 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 head
slowly, his blazing eyes searched the office as if expecting to discover a
presence concealed somewhere; they returned to the hotel man's face,
and he inquired:
"Well, where is he?"
Haviland stirred. "I don't know what you're talking about. Who's
Nelson?" After a second he exclaimed: "Good Lord! I thought I had a
pleasant 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 the hotel and
everything in it is yours."
"Eh?"
"Why, the Ajax is one of the Dietz chain! Herman Dietz of Cincinnati
owns it. He left for the North not an hour ago. At the last minute he
heard you were here--read this story in the paper --and had bellboys
scouring the place for you. You must know why he wanted to see you,
and what he said when he found that he'd have to leave before you
came in."

Colonel Gray uttered another exclamation, this time an expletive of
deep 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 some other--friend."
"_Friend?_"
"Exactly!" Gray was himself again now. He ran a loosening finger
between his collar and throat. "Quite a start, I'll admit, but --some of
my friends are great practical jokers. They have a way of jumping out
at me and crying 'Boo!' when I least expect it."
"Um-m! I see. Mr. Dietz told me that he was under lifelong obligation
to 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 imprisoned
for the duration of the war and you managed to get him back home."
"Merely a matter