The Desired Woman | Page 4

baggy trousers, disreputable shoes, and a battered silk hat of
ancient, bell-shaped pattern. He was smooth-shaven, quite pale, and
had scant gray hair which in greasy, rope-like strands touched his
shoulders. He was nervously chewing a cheap, unlighted cigar, and

flakes of damp tobacco clung to his shirt-front.
"You were inquiring for Mostyn," Saunders said, quietly. "He is not at
work this morning, Mr. Henderson. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"I don't know whether you can or not," the old man said, as he sank into
a chair and leaned forward on his walking-cane. "I don't know whether
anybody can or not. I don't believe there is any law or justice anywhere.
You and him are partners, but I don't believe you know him clean to the
bottom as well as I do. You wouldn't be in business with him if you did,
for you are a straight man--a body can tell that by your eye and
voice--and I've never heard of any shady, wildcat scheme that you ever
dabbled in."
"We are getting away from the other matter," Saunders reminded him,
softly. "You came to see Mostyn."
"I came to give him a piece of my mind, young man--that's what I'm
here for. He dodges me. Say, do you know how he got his start--the
money he put in this bank? Well, I can tell you, and I'll bet he never did.
He started the Holly Creek Cotton Mills. It was his idea. I thought he
was honest and straight. He was going round trying to interest capital. I
never had a head for business. The war left me flat on my back with all
the family niggers free, but a chunk of money came to my
children--fifty thousand dollars. It stood in their name, but I got their
legal consent to handle it. Mostyn knew I had it and was constantly
ding-donging at me about his mill idea. Well, I went in--I risked the
whole amount. He was made president although he didn't hold ten
thousand dollars' worth of stock. Then I reckon you know what
happened. He run the thing plumb in the ground, claimed to be losing
money--said labor was too high; claimed that the wrong sort of
machinery had been put in. It went from bad to worse for twelve
months, then it shut down. The operatives moved away, and it was sold
under the hammer. Who bought it in--my God, who do you reckon bid
it in for twenty-five cents on the dollar? Why, the same smooth young
duck that is taking a nap in his fine private quarters back there now.
Then what did he do? Why, all at once he found that the machinery was
all right and labor could be had. Out of his own pocket with money he

had made in some underhand deal or other he added on a wing, filled it
with spindles and looms, built more cottages, and three years later the
stock had hopped up to two for one, and little to be had at that. He next
started this bank, and here I sit in it"--the old man swept the interior
with a slow glance--"without a dollar to my name and my daughters
hiring out for barely enough to keep rags on their bodies. Say, what do
you think--"
"I am afraid the courts are the only place to settle a matter upon which
two parties disagree," Saunders said, diplomatically, though a frown of
sympathy lay on his handsome dark face.
"The courts be damned!" the old man growled, pounding the floor with
his stick. "I did take it to law. I spent the twelve thousand and odd
dollars that I rescued from the ruin in suing him, only to discover that
the law itself favors the shyster who has money and is sharp enough to
circumvent it."
"I am sorry, but there is absolutely nothing I can do to help you, Mr.
Henderson," Saunders said, lamely. "Of course, I mean in regard to this
particular matter. If you are in want, however, and any reasonable
amount would be of service to you--why, on my own account I am
willing--"
"I don't mean that," the old man broke in, tremulously. "You are very
kind. I know you would help me, you show it in your face; but I don't
want that sort of thing. It is--is my rights I'm after. I--I can't face my
children after the way I acted. I simply trusted Mostyn with my all--my
life's blood--don't you see? I remember when I was hesitating, and a
neighbor had hinted that Mostyn was too high a flyer--going with fast
women and the like--to be quite safe--I remember, I say, that the
commandment 'Judge not that ye be not judged' came in my