The Moneychangers | Page 9

She was full of all the wonderful things that she had seen in

Dan Waterman's art gallery. "And Allan," she exclaimed, "what do you
think, I met him!"
"You don't mean it!" said he.
"He was there the whole afternoon!" declared Lucy. "And he never did
a thing but be nice to me!"
"Then you didn't find him so terrible as you expected," said Montague.
"He was perfectly charming," said Lucy. "He showed me his whole
collection and told me the history of the different paintings, and stories
about how he got them. I never had such an experience in my life."
"He can be an interesting man when he chooses," Montague responded.
"He is marvellous!" said she. "You look at that lean figure, and the
wizened-up old hawk's face, with the white hair all round it, and you'd
think that he was in his dotage. But when he talks--I don't wonder men
obey him!"
"They obey him!" said Montague. "No mistake about that! There is not
a man in Wall Street who could live for twenty-four hours if old Dan
Waterman went after him in earnest."
"How in the world does he do it?" asked Lucy. "Is he so enormously
rich?"
"It is not the money he owns," said Montague; "it's what he controls.
He is master of the banks; and no man can take a step in Wall Street
without his knowing it if he wants to. And he can break a man's credit;
he can have all his loans called. He can swing the market so as to break
a man. And then, think of his power in Washington! He uses the
Treasury as if it were one of his branch offices."
"It seems frightful," said Lucy. "And that old man--over eighty! I'm
glad that I met him, at any rate."
She paused, seeing Stanley Ryder in the doorway. He was evidently
looking for her. He took her in to dinner; and every now and then,
when Montague stole a glance at her, he saw that Ryder was
monopolising her attention.
After dinner they adjourned to the music-room, and Ryder played a
couple of Chopin's Nocturnes. He never took his eyes from Lucy's face
while he was playing. "I declare," remarked Betty Wyman in
Montague's hearing, "the way Stanley Ryder makes love at the piano is
positively indecent."
Montague dodged several invitations to play cards, and deliberately

placed himself at Lucy's side for the evening. And when at last Stanley
Ryder had gone away in disgust to the smoking-room, he turned to her
and said, "Lucy, you must let me speak to you about this."
"I don't mind your speaking to me, Allan," she said; with a feeble
attempt at a smile,
"But you must pay attention to me," he protested. "You really don't
know the sort of man you are dealing with, or what people think about
him."
She sat in silence, biting her lip nervously, while Montague told her, as
plainly as he could, what Ryder's reputation was. All that she could
answer was, "He is such an interesting man!"
"There are many interesting men," said he, "but you will never meet
them if you get people talking about you like this."
Lucy clasped her hands together.
"Allan," she exclaimed, "I did my best to persuade him not to come out
here. And you are right. I will do what you say--I will have nothing to
do with him, honestly. You shall see! It's his own fault that he came,
and he can find somebody else to entertain him while he's here."
"I wish that you would tell him plainly, Lucy," said Montague. "Never
mind if he gets angry. Make him understand you--once for all."
"I will--I will!" she declared.
And Montague judged that she carried out her promise quickly, for the
rest of the evening Ryder gave to entertaining the company. About
midnight Montague chanced to look into the library, and he saw the
president of the Gotham Trust in the midst of a group which was
excitedly discussing divorce. "Marriage is a sin for which the church
refuses absolution!" he heard Stanley Ryder exclaiming.

CHAPTER III

A few days after these incidents, Montague was waiting for a friend
who was to come to dinner at his hotel. He was sitting in the lobby
reading a paper, and he noticed an elderly gentleman with a grey goatee
and rather florid complexion who passed down the corridor before him.
A minute or two later he happened to glance up, and he caught this

gentleman's eye.
The latter started, and a look of amazement came over his face. He
came forward, saying, "I beg pardon, but is not this Allan Montague?"
"It is," said Montague, looking at him in perplexity.
"You don't remember me, do you?" said