The Scarlet Feather - Houghton Townley

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coolness. He surely must be a scamp to be spoken of as his own grandfather spoke of him; and, of course, wherever he went, women flung themselves at his head. The 47 usual attraction of a good-looking, soft-eyed Adonis gained favor by the whispered suggestion that he was dangerous.

      But, in truth, Dick was only bored with women until he fell in love with Dora, and took the girl’s heart by storm.

      Ormsby was laying siege to the citadel cautiously, as was his way. Bluff Jack Lorrimer’s courage was paralyzed by his love, and he drank deep to dispel his melancholy. Harry Bent—who was already under the spell of Netty Swinton, Dick’s sister’s—was indifferent, and Carnaby had been rejected three times, despite his millions.

      Colonel Dundas saw nothing to alarm him in the admiration of these young men for his daughter until Dick Swinton came along, and Dora changed into a dreamy, solemn young person. She lost all her audacity, and her hot temper was put to rest for ever. Dick worshiped with his eyes in such a manner that only the blind could fail to read the signs. He was not loquacious, and Dora was unaccountably shy. They never spoke of love until one day Dick, with simple audacity, and favored by unusual circumstances—under the light of the moon—clasped the girl to his heart, and kissed her. She cried, and he imprisoned her in his arms for a full minute. For ransom and release, she gave her lips unresistingly, and he uncaged her. 48

      “Now, you’re mine,” he murmured, with a great sigh of relief, “and we’re engaged.”

      She smiled and nodded, and came to his heart again of her own accord.

      And not a word was said to anybody. It was all too precious and wonderful and beautiful. And yet she expected him to go away.

      At the club, to-day everybody stared to see Ormsby and Dick Swinton meet as though nothing had happened overnight, and the news was soon buzzing around that Swinton was going, after all. Jack Lorrimer explained that Dick had at last procured the consent of his grandfather, without which it would have been impossible for him to go. Everybody wondered why they had not thought of that before, and laughed at the overnight business.

      On his return to the rectory, Dick met his mother in the porch.

      “Mother!” he cried, in a voice that was husky with emotion. “I’ve got to go. I’ve just given my name in to the colonel, and the money must be found somehow. Ormsby has dared to insinuate that I’m a coward. I—”

      “It’s all right, Dick. You can have your outfit; I’ve got enough. I suppose five hundred dollars will cover it?”

      “It’ll have to, if that’s all I can get, mother.”

      “That is all I can spare.” 49

      “Out of grandfather’s two thousand?”

      “Most of it has already gone. A thousand to your father for the builder man, a hundred to that wretch who was here yesterday, and the rest to pay some of my own debts. My luck has deserted me lately. I shall have to beg of your grandfather again to get the five hundred you want.”

      Dick groaned.

      “I know, my boy, that it is very humiliating to have to beg for money which really belongs to one—for it does belong to us, to you and me, I mean—as much as to him, doesn’t it? It’s maddening to think that the law allows a man to ruin his relations because senility has weakened his intellect.”

      “He’s an old brute,” growled Dick, as he strode away.

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      Vivian Ormsby smarted under the blow given him by Dick at the dinner, and burned to avenge the affront. He tingled with impatience to get another look at the dubious check which promised such unexceptional possibilities of retaliation if, as he suspected and hoped, it was a forgery. Dick Swinton, publicly denounced as a felon, could not possibly hold up his head again; and as a rival in love he would be remorselessly wiped out. The young upstart should learn the penalty of striking an Ormsby.

      The captain was a familiar figure at the bank, which belonged almost entirely to his father and himself, and he had his private room there, where he appeared at intervals. Now, Ormsby sat at his desk in the manager’s room. He rang the bell and ordered the check to be brought to him once more. Then, he asked for Herresford’s pass-book, and any checks in the old man’s handwriting that were available. He displayed renewed eagerness in comparing the handwriting in the body of the check with others of a recent date. The result of his scrutiny was evidently interesting, as with his magnifying 51 glass he once more examined every stroke made by Mrs. Swinton’s spluttering pen.

      The color of the ink used by the forger was not the same as that in the signature. It had darkened perceptibly and swiftly. An undoubted forgery!

      It was beyond imagination that Mrs. Swinton, the wife of the rector, could stoop to a fraud. Surely, only a man would write heavily and thickly like that. It was a clumsy alteration.

      Dick Swinton had tampered with his grandfather’s figures. Well, what then? Would the old man thank his banker for making an accusation of criminality against his grandson? Herresford might be a mean man, but the honor of his name was doubtless dear to him.

      What would come of a public trial? Obviously, Dick Swinton would be disinherited and disgraced. The banker knew that it was his duty to proceed at once, if he detected a fraud. But it was not the way of Mr. Vivian Ormsby to act in haste—and it was near the hour for luncheon, to which he had been invited by Colonel Dundas. To-morrow, he could, if advisable, openly discover flaws in the check, and it would then be better if action were taken by his manager, and not by himself.

      Dora had been very sweet and kind to him—before Dick came along. Vivian had gone so far as to consult his father about a proposal of marriage to 52 the rich colonel’s daughter. They were cautious people, the Ormsbys, and made calculations in their love-affairs as in their bank-books. The old banker approved, and Vivian had hoped that Dora would accept him before he went away. He knew that Dick Swinton stood in his path; but, if he could drag his rival down, it was surely fair and honorable to do so before Dora could commit herself to any sentimental relationship with a criminal.

      Ormsby took the chauffeur’s seat in his waiting automobile, and drove as fast as the traffic would permit, for he feared lest he might be late. His pace in the upper part of Fifth avenue was far beyond anything the law permitted. As he reached Eighty-eighth street, in which was Colonel Dundas’s house, he hardly slackened speed as he swung around the corner. And there, just before him, a group of children playing stretched across the street. Instantly, Ormsby applied the emergency brake. The huge machine jarred abruptly to a standstill—so abruptly that both Ormsby and his chauffeur in the seat beside him were hurled out. The chauffeur scrambled to his feet after a moment, for he had escaped serious injury, but the banker lay white and motionless on the pavement before Colonel Dundas’s door.

      When the physician was asked to give his opinion some time later, he expressed a belief that the 53 patient would live, but he certainly would not go to the war. In the meantime, he could not be moved. He must remain where he was—in Dora’s tender care.

      And Dick was going to the war!

      The bright morning sunlight was streaming in at the window of the rector’s study, sunlight which pitilessly showed up patches of obliterated pattern in the carpet and sorry signs of wear in the leather chairs. A glorious morning; one of those rare days which go to make the magic of spring; a day when all the golden notes in the landscape become articulate as they vibrate to the caress of the soft, warm air.

      The rector was only dimly conscious of its rare

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