The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 1 February 1917, Page 3

The Storyteller

By Anna T. Sadliek.

PHILEAS FOX, ATTORNEY

[By Arrangement with the Ave Maria ; (Continued.) • - XVI. V ' , Fortunately, Phileas did catch the evening boat, deciding to take his supper on board; and, as the darkness settled down like a pall over the face of the waters, he sat upon the deck, watching the huge leviathan of a steamer churning its way, with dashing of . foam and whirring of machinery. Light talk and laughter sounded from the various groups around him, or came forth from the brilliantly lighted saloon, until gradually; as it grew late, the groups. dispersed and the apartment became almost portentously still. The young lawyer was now left in solitary possession of the deck, smoking his cigar, and letting, his thoughts wander over the whole range of impressions that had been stamped upon his mind during the recent weeks. Above his head, in the clear blue of the firmament, the Northern Crown and Bootes, the Herdsman, disputed the sovereignty of the heavens with the Dipper and the princely. Orion. Their radiance seemed fairly dazzling in that bright arc, thickly crowded with those constellations which, by the quaint symbolism of their names, recall the dawn of the world’s history. It was very late indeed when Phileas abandoned that peaceful scene and the soft lulling of the waters, for his cabin, where a fellow traveller was already sleeping the sleep of the weary. The early morn found the energetic lawyer astir, and hastening to the deck to watch the steamer ploughing through the harbor of Tea Party fame, and the crowd of hurrying people. They included every class and condition, from the commercial traveller, genial, bumptious, endlessly loquacious, or grim and taciturn, to the merchant prince whose family had long since ensconced themselves at Newport or elsewhere, and who was running down to Boston for the mere pleasure of the sail ; belonging for the most part, however, to the varied and often nondescript company of tourists, voluble anxious and ardent in the pursuit of sight-seeing. Phileas, who. had but little luggage and consequently no anxiety, observed them all, as he waited,, with the closeness of attention that his profession fostered, until presently the vessel came to anchor with a prodigious straining and creaking, a whistling and shrieking and before him lay the city, which is perhaps the most historic within the radius of the Northern States. There the pale ghosts of the Puritans seem to stalk, marvelling at modern progress; the quiet and peaceful Quakers appear to glide through the winding streets, where frequently they underwent persecution, and where, in common with other strange sectaries and the witches, ghastly victims of superstition, •they endured undeserved torments. The Colonial governors, the Revolutionary worthies, and the tribesmen of old Massasoit still haunt the shores and inhabit the thoroughfares, now given over to the rush and bustle of commerce. Phileas registered at a hotel ’which has been identified with the growth of the metropolis; and after breakfast set forth to seek that secluded spo£ where he hoped to find the widow’s mysterious lodger. The lawyer was tolerably well acquainted with the Puritan city, and admired, as he went, the Common, • oasis of verdure, and Beacon street, where the magnates of the East India Company’ and other commercial potentates had set up their palatial residence. He discovered without much trouble that quiet hostelry, where a gentleman answering to the lawyer’s description had taken up his abode some weeks previously, but, as the clerk added with a touch of resent-

' " ■-■'■•; .\ ;■■ ■' .'-s-. ...... t - * * -,u~ I merit, >without': registering. - He was elderly, he led a retired life, he saw no visitors. : Phileas suggested that he would like to send up his card, but the official behind the desk was inexorable. The orders from No. 48 were to admit no callers, and those orders, should be obeyed.- Phileas was baffled for the moment; but, by a happy inspiration, he resolved to make his way to / Father Driscoll, and see what assistance he could lend. , Putting on his hat, he took a trolley to the magnificent '■ church ’ where the priest from New York was now stationed. He was fortunate enough to find him at J home. * ' y--; He was a grey-haired, rugged-featured man, considerably above the average height, with a genial manner, an all-pervading atmosphere of common-sense, ■ and a particularly clear judgment. He heard ■Phileas’ story to the end, measuring him meantime with ■; that keen insight into the character of others that becomes almost a sixth sense. ‘ I am sorry,’ he said quietly, ‘ that you did not bring me an introductory line from Father Van Buren, which would have made assurance doubly sure. But I am going to take it upon myself, Mr. Fox, to introduce you as an old pupil of one of our colleges, and as a friend of Father Van Buren. And,’ he added half jestingly, ‘I hope you will do nothing to discredit me.’ - Phileas met. him eye' to eye, thus giving the experienced director of souls an assurance stronger than any spoken pledges. Just let me have one of your cards,’ he said, ‘ and I will write a line upon it.’ He did so; and almost immediately afterward Phileas rose to take his leave, having asked no questions and solicited no information which the priest might have preferred to withhold. ‘ I shall be glad to see you again,’ Father Driscoll said cordially; ‘that is, if you have a few minutes to spare; and if not, I shall be anxious to hear how your business has progressed.’ That interview, brief as it was, had established an unusual friendliness of feeling between the young man and the old, and their hand-shake was a warm one. The lawyer returned to the modest hostelry in that quiet neighborhood, where birds sang and trees waved as if forgetful of the rush of city life so near. Earlv in the afternoon, Phileas sent up the card upon which the priest had pencilled a few words. He waited in a very fever of suspense for the result of his application, and could scarcely control his impatience when after a few moments he saw the bell-boy leisurely advancing toward him. ‘ The gentleman in No. 48 will see you,’ he announced briefly; ‘ and you’re to go up.’ Phileas felt his heart beating almost to suffocation, so momentous did he realise that interview and its results to be. Interest, curiosity were, moreover, excited to an almost intolerable degree. He made an effort to gain a full command of his faculties before he followed the bell-boy to the elevator and into a corridor bordered on either side by a row of precisely similar doors. At one of these, which stood in about the centre, the boy knocked. On receiving the summons to enter, he ushered Phileas into the apartment, not without an evident lingering of curiosity concerning the unusual circumstance of a visitor being admitted. With an emotion that caused his face to pale and his pulses to beat, the lawyer beheld seated in an armchair, close to the window, an old man of an appearance so distinguished as to seem out of place in that small and narrow apartment. He could easily have imagined him presiding on the bench, filling a gubernatorial chair, or in any other position of distinction. ' But the impression that he made upon Phileas was deepened by the fact that the latter never had any doubt from the first that here was the hero in that old romance, the husband of the imperious mistress of the Monroe street mansion, and the defendant in the celebrated suit. V Nor was it alone the resemblance to the portrait which produced that conviction, since it did not so instantaneously seize him, but gradually grew from his study , of the face before him.

•As Phileas $ stood ( stunned, bewildered fas ? it; were, by the prospect of that success in his quest which he felt was at : hand, the old man spoke. His voice was singularly harmonious/ with a tone and accent that belonged to a more, tranquil and' possibly a more formal era than our own, when there was time to pronounce the syllables.' He extended to his visitor a shapely and, well-cared-for hand, which Phileas took with a deference that well became him, and elicited a mental note of approbation from the other.’ ‘ I must apologise, Mr. Fox,’: he said, ‘ for the seeming discourtesy of my attitude. lam just enough of an invalid to make motion at times irksome.’ ;‘ I should ■ rather : apologise for my intrusion,’ Phileas replied readily, ‘ only that it is justified by a grave necessity.’ ‘Any one introduced by Father Driscoll is welcome,’ said the other, courteously.; ‘ though, as perhaps he has told you, my visiting list under present circumstances is necessarily limited.’ The smile with which these words were uttered was singularly winning, and the lawyer could well understand the figure which this man must have cut in his youth. In the still noble physique were traces of that rare beauty which had been manifest in the portrait, and which detracted nothing from a dignified manliness. There was an ease and grace in the manner which betrayed an intimate association with the highest circles of society. This seemed, in fact, : a relic of the early Colonial days, when the beaux of the period were no less famed for wit and genial courtesy than for the carefulness of their attire. One could have fancied this old man sitting there in that obscure lodging, as Phileas reflected, the associate of Aaron Burr, of Alexander Hamilton, the Willises and the D’Orsays. As there was ever so slight a pause after the last remark, the lawyer felt called upon to explain the errand which had brought him thither. Yet he was conscious of all the difficulty of approaching a painful subject the more so that the exquisite courtesy of the older man served as a viewless but effectual barrier against any intrusion upon his private feelings. ‘I will tell you frankly, sir,’ said Phileas, that lamat a loss how to begin. The matter which has brought me here is vital, but at the same time it opens up issues that are so painful— ’ ‘ Perhaps,’ remarked the listener, who had visibly started at this preamble, and over whose face had crept a shadow, ‘ it might be better to leave them unopened.’ ‘ Unfortunately,’ said the young man, ‘it is imperative that you should give me a hearing.’ ‘Are you a lawyer?’ the gentleman inquired. Phileas answered in the affirmative; and the other turned away toward the window, as though he would fain have avoided a blow. After a moment he observed, in a low voice: ‘ I will hear what you have to say. I feel sure that you will not exceed your duty.’ ‘ I must necessarily ask a question,’ began the attorney, ‘ which I did not put even to Father Driscoll, and which I trust you will not consider intrusive, since upon the answer must depend all further communications upon my part. And perhaps it is only fair to say that I have already anticipated the answer.’ ‘ Ask what you will,’ replied the old man, with the same air of submitting to the inevitable; and . Phileas paused to arrange the form of his inquiry. ‘ Am I correct in assuming,’ he asked at length, ‘ that you are—the defendant in the case of Spooner vs. Vorst, —that you are, in fact, Mr. John Vorst himself ' , It was evident that the occupant of the chair, had not expected so point-blank a question, and for an instant he seemed to have lost his self-control. A mortal pallor overspread his features; he started from his reclining attitude to an erect position, and cried : ‘ By what right do you ask me such a question Upon what do you base your assumption as to my. identity ?’ My right is simply that of justice to yourself and others,’ answered Phileas, firmly, the strength of his character suddenly asserting itself, and to some extent

dominating the other. ‘ And as to my assumption, it , rests upon - many : small links in a ! chain - which has led me r here, - upon a • conviction 1 which has seized me : since I have come into your presence, and also ’ (he hesitated an instant) ‘ upon your resemblance to the portrait. . ‘You have seen the portrait?’ the older man ex- \ claimed, and there was a startled^look upon his face <i as of one driven: to bay. Then lie sank back into his V chair, passing his hand wearily over his face. ‘Am I never to be done with that miserable case,—never to be secure even in the most obscure retreat?’ w- Believe one thing, sir,’ interposed Phileas, s'eizing upon the tacit admission, and speaking under the influexxce of a strong emotion. ‘No word nor act of mine f vshall tend to your annoyance. lam here altogether / in the interests of right and justice, that old wrongs may be righted and old difficulties adjusted.’ ‘ That can scarcely be, sir,’ said the gentleman; coldly. ‘There are .difficulties which can not be adjusted, nor, I warn you, can they be discussed.’ ‘ But discussion is absolutely necessary, Mr. Vorst,’ pleaded the lawyer : ‘ and I am sure that your sense of justice will permit me to make a definite statement of r much that has transpired within the past year. The credentials which 1 have brought from one in whom you it ’have confidence must assure you that not without the gravest reasons would I have intruded upon your privacy. May I speak?’ The head was once more bowed and there was a look of distress upon the face, but the desired permission was given. -‘ Bet me preface my statement of the new aspect of affairs by axx announcement that may possibly be new to you,’ began the attorney,— ‘ that the plaintiff in the case of Spooner rs. Vox'st has become a Catholic.’ - She, Martha, a Catholic !’ cried the old man in amazement, while wonder- and incredulity were written*.upon every feature. ‘ Having been received into the Church by Father Van Buren just one year ago, she is naturally desirous of readjusting her business aff ail's.’ The old man looked steadily down at the floor, and there was a silence between the two. Then he said slowly : ‘ Your statement is, indeed, of the gravest importance, and no doubt must make a material difference. Did these business affair's, however, concern me alone, my preference would be to leave things as they are. Personally, I have but one desirefreedom from strife. But, since the rights and interests of others have to be considered, I will hear what is proposed.’ In the same attitude of weariness, and keeping a strained attention xxpon the lawyer, John Vorst listened, according a meed of admiration to the speaker for the brief and well-chosen words in which he made his statement, together with a delicacy that avoided all needlessly painful references. And this thought he expressed when Phileas had concluded. ‘ The plaintiff,’ he said, ‘ is fortunate in her attorney.’ ‘ Who,’ said Phileas, laughing off the compliment, ‘ was ixxtroduced to her by Father- Van Buren as a briefless young barrister, at liberty to give unlimited time to her affairs.’ ‘ I am quite sure he had other considerations in his mind when he made that recommendation,’ remarked the old man, courteously; ‘and as for the briefs, they will not be long in coming. But to return to the matter in hand. You must give me a little time to adjust my mind to new conditions. Of course it is now unnecessary to inform you that I am indeed John Vorst. I shall be most happy to see you again, in a day or two, when I have had time to considergthe new aspects of the case.’ He outstretched a cordial hand to Phileas, who, thus dismissed, took his leave, elated at the progress he had made, and promising to call within the week. I (To be continued.)