Vera, The Medium | Page 8

too." The mind of the old man suddenly veered at a tangent. "How the devil can Helen retain him?" he demanded peevishly. "She can't retain him. She hasn't any money. And he's District Attorney too. It's against the law. Is he doing it as a speculation? Does he want to marry her?"
Judge Gaylor laughed soothingly.
"Heavens, no!" he said. "She's in his office, that's all. When she took this craze to be independent of you, he gave her a position as secretary, or as stenographer, or something. She's probably told him her story, her side of it, and he's helping her out of charity.:" The Judge smiled tolerantly. "He does that sort of thing, I believe."
The old man struck the library table with his palm. "I wish he'd mind his own business," he cried. "It's my money. She has no claim to it, never had any claim --"
The Judge interrupted quickly.
"That's all right, Stephen; that's all right," he said. "Don't excite yourself. Just get what you're to say straight in your mind and stick to it. Remember," he went on, as though coaching a child in a task already learned, "there never was a written agreement.
"No!" muttered Hallowell. "Never was!"
"Repeat this to yourself," commanded the Judge. "The understanding between you and your brother-in-law was that if you placed his patent on the market, for the first five years you would share the profits equally. After the five years, all rights in the patent became yours. It was unfortunate," commented the Judge dryly, "that your brother-in-law and your sister died before the five years were up, especially as the patent did not begin to make money until after five years. Remember -- until after five years."
"Until after five years," echoed Mr. Hallowell. "It was over six years," he went on excitedly, "before it made a cent. And, then, it was my money -- and anything I give my niece is charity. She's not entitled -- "
Garrett appeared at the door. "Miss Coates," he announced, "and Mr. Winthrop." Judge Gaylor raised a hand for silence, and as Mr. Hallowell sank back in his chair, Helen Coates, the only child of Catherine Coates, his sister, and the young District Attorney of New York came into the library. Miss Coates was a woman of between twenty-five and thirty, capable, and self- reliant. She had a certain beauty of a severe type, but an harassed expression about her eyes made her appear to be always frowning. At times, in a hardening of the lower part of her face, she showed a likeness to her uncle. Like him, in speaking, also, her manner was positive and decided.
In age the young man who accompanied her was ten years her senior, but where her difficulties had made her appear older than she really was, the enthusiasm with which he had thrown himself against those of his own life, had left him young.
The rise of Winthrop had been swift and spectacular. Almost as soon as he graduated from the college in the little "up-state" town where he had been educated, and his family had always lived, he became the prosecuting attorney of that town, and later, at Albany, represented the district in the Assembly. From Albany he entered a law office in New York City, and in the cause of reform had fought so many good fights that on an independent ticket, much to his surprise, he had been lifted to the high position he now held. No more in his manner than in his appearance did Winthrop suggest the popular conception of his role. He was not professional, not mysterious. Instead, he was sane, cheerful, tolerant. It was his philosophy to believe that the world was innocent until it was proved guilty.
He was a bachelor and, except for two sisters who had married men of prominence in New York and who moved in a world of fashion into which he had not penetrated, he was alone.
When the visitors entered, Mr. Hallowell, without rising, greeted his niece cordially.
"Ah, Helen! I am glad to see you," he called, and added reproachfully, "at last."
"How do you do, sir?" returned Miss Helen stiffly. With marked disapproval she bowed to Judge Gaylor.
"And our District Attorney," cried Mr. Hallowell. "Pardon my not rising, won't you? I haven't seen you, sir, since you tried to get the Grand Jury to indict me." He chucked delightedly. "You didn't succeed," he taunted.
Winthrop shook hands with him, smiling, "Don't blame me," he said, "I did my best. I'm glad to see you in such good spirits, Mr. Hallowell. I feared, by the Despatch -- "
"Lies, lies," interrupted Hallowell curtly. "You know Judge Gaylor?"
As he shook hands, Winthrop answered that the Judge and he were old friends; that they knew each other well.
"Know each other so well!" returned the Judge,