the cost-第33章

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〃Oh；　don't　mention　it；〃　he　said；　seating　himself　again。　　〃As　I　was　saying；　the　raid　was　a　success。　　I　did　the　best　I　could。　　Some　called　our　loans　and　some　demanded　more　collateral。　　And　while　I　was　fighting　front　and　rear　and　both　sides；　bang　came　that　lie　about　your　condition。　　The　market　broke。　　All　I　could　do　was　sell；　sell；　sell；　to　try　to　meet　or　protect　our　loans。〃

Giddings　heard　a　sound　that　made　him　glance　at　Dumont。　　His　head　had　fallen　forward　and　he　was　snoring。　　Giddings　looked　long　and　pityingly。

〃A　sure　enough　dead　one；〃　he　muttered；　unconsciously　using　the　slang　of　the　Street　which　he　habitually　avoided。　　And　he　went　away；　closing　the　door　behind　him。

After　half　an　hour　Dumont　roused　himselfout　of　a　stupor　into　a　half…delirious　dream。

〃Must　get　cash；〃　he　mumbled；　〃and　look　after　the　time　loans。〃　　He　lifted　his　head　and　pushed　back　his　hair　from　his　hot　forehead。　　〃I'll　stamp　on　those　curs　yet！〃

He　took　another　drinkhis　hands　were　so　unsteady　that　he　had　to　use　both　of　them　in　lifting　it　to　his　lips。　　He　put　the　flask　in　his　pocket　instead　of　returning　it　to　the　drawer。　　No　one　spoke　to　him；　all　pretended　not　to　see　him　as　he　passed　through　the　offices　on　his　way　to　the　elevator。　　With　glassy　unseeing　eyes　he　fumbled　at　the　dash…board　and　side　of　the　hansom；　with　a　groan　like　a　rheumatic　old　man's　he　lifted　his　heavy　body　up　into　the　seat；　dropped　back　and　fell　asleep。　　A　crowd　of　clerks　and　messengers；　newsboys　and　peddlers　gathered　and　gaped；　awed　as　they　looked　at　the　man　who　had　been　for　five　years　one　of　the　heroes　of　the　Street；　and　thought　of　his　dazzling　catastrophe。

〃What's　the　matter？〃　inquired　a　new…comer；　apparently　a　tourist；　edging　his　way　into　the　outskirts　of　the　crowd。

〃That's　Dumont；　the　head　of　the　Woolens　Trust；〃　the　curb…broker　he　addressed　replied　in　a　low　tone。　　〃He　was　raided　yesterdaywoke　up　in　the　morning　worth　a　hundred　millions；　went　to　bed　worthperhaps　five；　maybe　nothing　at　all。〃

At　this　exaggeration　of　the　height　and　depth　of　the　disaster；　awe　and　sympathy　became　intense　in　that　cluster　of　faces。　　A　hundred　millions　to　nothing　at　all；　or　at　most　a　beggarly　five　millionswhat　a　dizzy　precipice！　　Great　indeed　must　be　he　who　could　fall　so　far。　　The　driver　peered　through　the　trap；　wondering　why　his　distinguished　fare　endured　this　vulgar　scrutiny。　　He　saw　that　Dumont　was　asleep；　thrust　down　a　hand　and　shook　him。　　〃Where　to；　sir？〃　he　asked；　as　Dumont　straightened　himself。

〃To　the　National　Industrial　Bank；　you　fool；〃　snapped　Dumont。　　〃How　many　times　must　I　tell　you？〃

〃Thank　you；　sir；〃　said　the　driverwithout　sarcasm；　thinking　steadfastly　of　his　payand　drove　swiftly　away。

Theretofore；　whenever　he　had　gone　to　the　National　Industrial　Bank　he　had　been　received　as　one　king　is　received　by　another。　　Either　eager　and　obsequious　high　officers　of　King　Melville　had　escorted　him　directly　to　the　presence；　or　King　Melville；　because　he　had　a　caller　who　could　not　be　summarily　dismissed；　had　come　out　apologetically　to　conduct　King　Dumont　to　another　audience　chamber。　　That　day　the　third　assistant　cashier　greeted　him　with　politeness　carefully　graded　to　the　due　of　a　man　merely　moderately　rich　and　not　a　factor　in　the　game　of　high　finance。

〃Be　seated；　Mr。　Dumont；〃　he　said；　pointing　to　a　chair　just　inside　the　railinga　seat　not　unworthy　of　a　man　of　rank　in　the　plutocratic　hierarchy；　but　a　man　of　far　from　high　rank。　　〃I'll　see　whether　Mr。　Melville's　disengaged。〃

Dumont　dropped　into　the　chair　and　his　heavy　head　was　almost　immediately　resting　upon　his　shirt…bosom。　　The　third　assistant　cashier　returned；　roused　him　somewhat　impatiently。　　〃Mr。　Melville's　engaged；〃　said　he。　　〃But　Mr。　Cowles　will　see　you。〃　　Mr。　Cowles　was　the　third　vice…president。

Dumont　rose。　　The　blood　flushed　into　his　face　and　his　body　shook　from　head　to　foot。　　〃Tell　Melville　to　go　to　hell；〃　he　jerked　out；　the　haze　clearing　for　a　moment　from　his　piercing；　wicked　eyes。　　And　he　stalked　through　the　gateway　in　the　railing。　　He　turned。　　〃Tell　him　I'll　tear　him　down　and　grind　him　into　the　gutter　within　six　months。〃

In　the　hansom　again；　he　reflected　or　tried　to　reflect。　　But　the　lofty　buildings　seemed　to　cast　a　black　shadow　on　his　mind；　and　the　roar　and　rush　of　the　tremendous　tide　of　traffic　through　that　deep　canon　set　his　thoughts　to　whirling　like　drink…maddened　bacchanals　dancing　round　a　punch…bowl。　　〃That　woman！〃　he　exclaimed　suddenly。　　〃What　asses　they　make　of　us　men！　　And　all　these　vulturesI'm　not　carrion　yet。　　But　THEY　soon　will　be！〃　　And　he　laughed　and　his　thoughts　began　their　crazy　spin　again。

A　newsboy　came；　waving　an　extra　in　at　the　open　doors　of　the　hansom。　　〃Dumont's　downfall！〃　he　yelled　in　his　shrill；　childish　voice。　　〃All　about　the　big　smash！〃

Dumont　snatched　a　paper　and　flung　a　copper　at　the　boy。

〃Gimme　a　tip　on　Woolens；　Mr。　Dumont；〃　said　the　boy；　with　an　impudent　grin；　balancing　himself　for　flight。　　〃How's　Mrs。　Fanshaw？〃

The　newspapers　had　made　his　face　as　familiar　as　the　details　of　his　private　life。　　He　shrank　and　quivered。　　He　pushed　up　the　trap。　　〃Home！〃　he　said；　forgetting　that　the　hansom　and　driver　were　not　his　own。

〃All　right；　Mr。　Dumont！〃　replied　the　driver。　　Dumont　shrank　again　and　sat　cowering　in　the　cornerthe　very　calling　him　by　his　name；　now　a　synonym　for　failure；　disgrace；　ridicule　and　contempt；　seemed　a　subtile　insult。

With　roaring　brain　and　twitching；　dizzy　eyes　he　read　at　the　newspaper's　account　of　his　overthrow。　　And　gradually　there　formed　in　his　mind　a　coherent　notion　of　how　it　had　come　to　pass；　of　its　extent；　of　why　he　found　himself　lying　in　the　depths；　the　victim　of　humiliations　so　frightful　that　they　penetrated　even　to　him；　stupefied　and　crazed　with　drink　and　fever　though　he　was。　　His　courage；　his　self…command　were　burnt　up　by　the　brandy。　　His　body　had　at　last　revolted；　was　having　its　terrible　revenge　upon　the　mind　that　had　so　long　misused　it　in　every　kind　of　indulgence。

〃I'm　done　fordone　for；〃　he　repeated　audibly　again　and　again；　at　each　repetition　looking　round　mentally　for　a　fact　or　a　hope　that　would　deny　this　assertionbut　he　cast　about　in　vain。　　〃Yes；　I'm　done　for。〃　　And　flinging　away　the　newspaper　he　settled　back　and　ceased　to　try　to　think　of　his　affairs。　　After　a　while　tears　rolled　from　under　his　blue　eyelids；　dropped　haltingly　down　his　cheeks；　spread　out　upon　his　lips；　tasted　salt　in　his　half…open　mouth。

The　hansom　stopped　before　his　brick　and　marble　palace。　　The　butler　hurried　out　and　helped　him　alightnot　yet　thirty…seven；　he　felt　as　if　he　were　a　dying　old　man。　　〃Pay　the　cabby；〃　he　said　and　groped　his　way　into　the　house　and　to　the　elevator　and　mechanically　ran　himself　up　to　his　floor。　　His　valet　was　in　his　dressing…room。　　He　waved　him　away。　　〃Get　out！　　And　don't　disturb　me　till　I　ring。〃

〃The　doctor〃　began　Mallow。

〃Do　as　I　tell　you！〃

When　he　was　alone　he　poured　out　brandy　and　gulped　it　down　a　drink　that　might　have　eaten　the　lining　straight　out　of　a　stomach　less　powerful　than　his。　　He　went　from　door　to　door；　locking　them　all。　　Then　he　seated　himself　in　a　lounging…chair　before　the　long　mirror。　　He　stared　toward　the　image　of　himself　but　was　so　dim…eyed　that　he　could　see　nothing　but　spinning　black　disks。　　〃Life's　not　such　a　good　game　even　when　a　man's　winning；〃　he　said　aloud。　　〃A　rotten　bad　game　when　he's　losing。〃

His　head　wabbled　to　fall　forward　but　he　roused　himself。　　〃Wife　gone〃　　The　tears　flooded　his　eyestears　of　pity　for　himself；　an　injured　and　abandoned　husband。　　〃Wife　gone；〃　he　repeated。　　〃Friends　gone〃　　He　laughed　sardonically。　　〃No；　never　had　friends；　thank　God；　or　I　shouldn't　have　lasted　this　long。　　No　such　thing　as　friendsa　man　gets　what　he　can　pay　for。　　Grip　goneluck　gone！　　What's　the　use？〃

He　dozed　off；　presently　to　start　into　acute；　shuddering　consciousness。　　At　the　far　end　of　the　room；　stirring；　slowly　oozing　from　under　the　divan　was　aa　Thing！　　He　could　not　define　its　shape；　but　he　knew　that　it　was　vast；　that　it　was　scaly；　with　many　short　fat　legs　tipped　with　claws；　that　its　color　was　green；　that　its　purpose　was　hideous；　gleaming　in　craft　from　large；　square；　green…yellow　eyes。　　He　wiped　the　sticky　sweat　from　his　brow。　　〃It's　only　the　brandy；〃　he　said　loudly；　and　the　Thing　faded；　vanished。　　He　drew　a　deep　breath　of　relief。

He　went　to　a　case　of　drawers　and　stood　before　it；　supporting　himself　by　the　handles　of　the　second　drawer。　　〃Yes；〃　he　reflected；　〃the　revolver's　in　that　drawer。〃　　He　released　the　handles　and　staggered　back　to　his　chair。　　〃I'm　crazy；〃　he　muttered；　〃crazy　as　a　loon。　　I　ought　to　ring　for　the　doctor。〃

In　a　moment　he　was　up　again；　but　instead　of　going　toward　the　bell　he　went　to　the　drawers　and　opened　the　second　one。　　In　a　compartment　lay　a　pearl…handled；　self…cocking　revolver。　　He　put　his　hand　on　it；　shivered；　drew　his　hand　awaythe　steel　and　the　pearl　were　cold。　　He　closed　the　drawer　with　a　quick　push；　opened　it　again　slowly；　took　up　the　revolver；　staggered　over　to　his　desk　and　laid　it　there。　　His　face　was　chalk…white　in　spots　and　his　eyes　were　stiff　in　their　sockets。　　He　rested　his　aching；　burning；　reeling　head　on　his　hands　and　stared　at　the　revolver。

〃But；〃　he　said　aloud；　as　if　contemptuously　dismissing　a　suggestion；　〃why　should　I　shoot　myself？　　I　can　smash　'em　allto　powdergrind　'em　into　the　dirt。〃

He　took　up　the　revolver。　　〃What'd　be　the　use　of　smashing　'em？〃　he　said　wearily。　　He　felt　tired　and　sick；　horribly　sick。

He　laid　it　down。　　〃I'd　better　be　careful；〃　he　thought。　　〃I'm　not　in　my　right　mind。　　I　might〃

He　took　it　in　his　hand　and　went　to　the　mirror　and　put　the　muzzle　against　his　temple。　　He　laughed　crazily。　　〃A　little　pressure　on　that　trigger　andbang！　　I'd　be　in　kingdom　come　and　shouldn't　give　a　damn　for　anybody。〃　　He　caught　sight　of　his　eyes　in　the　mirror　and　hastily　dropped　his　arm　to　his　side。　　〃No；　I'd　never　shoot　myself　in　the　temple。　　The　heart'd　be　better。　　Just

here〃and　he　pressed　the　muzzle　into　the　soft　material　of　his　coat〃if　I　touched　the　trigger〃

And　his　finger　did　touch　the　trigger。　　Pains　shot　through　his　chest　like　cracks　radiating　in　glass　when　a　stone　strikes　it。　　He　looked　at　his　facewhite；　with　wild　eyes；　with　lips　blue　and　ajar；　the　sweat　streaming　from　his　forehead。

〃What　have　I　done？〃　he　shrieked；　mad　with　the　dread　of　death。　　〃I　must　call　for　help。〃　　He　turned　toward　the　door；　plunged　forward；　fell　unconscious；　the　revolver　flung　half…way　across　the　room。


When　he　came　to　his　senses　he　was　in　his　bedcomfortable；　weak；　lazy。　　With　a　slight　effort　he　caught　the　thread　of　events。　　He　turned　his　eyes　and　saw　a　nurse；　seated　at　the　head　of　his　bed；　reading。　　〃Am　I　going　to　die？〃　he　askedhis　voice　was　thin　and　came　in　faint　gusts。

〃Certainly　not；〃　replied　the　nurse；　putting　down　her　book　and　standing　over　him；　her　face　showing　genuine　reassurance　and　cheerfulness。

〃You'll　be　well　very　soon。　　But　you　must　lie　quiet　and　not　talk。〃

〃Was　it　a　bad　wound？〃

〃The　fever　was　the　worst。　　The　bullet　glanced　round　just　under　the　surface。〃

〃It　was　an　accident；〃　he　said；　after　a　moment's　thought。　　〃I　suppose　everybody　is　saying　I　tried　to　kill　myself。〃

〃‘Everybody'　doesn't　know　anything　about　it。　　Almost　nobody　knows。　　Even　the　servants　don't　know。　　Your　secretary　sent　them　away；　broke　in　and　found　you。〃

He　closed　his　eyes　and　slept。

When　he　awoke　again　he　felt　that