Flowing Gold | Page 6

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 of official routine. I felt sure he was a loyal American citizen."
"Exactly. But he makes more of the incident than you do, and he gave me my instructions. So--what can I do for you on his behalf? You have only to ask."
Gray pondered the unexpected offer. He was still a bit shaken, for a moment ago he had been more deeply stirred even than Haviland suspected, and the emotional reaction had left him weak. After all the hollow pretense of this day a genuine proffer of aid was welcome, and the temptation to accept was strong. Herman Dietz was indeed indebted to him, and he believed the old German- American would