TOST CARDS 
 
 STATIONERY 
 
 ~^~ 3 ft ". 
 
 , CALIF. 
 
 OE CALIE* IIBRABY,- IDS
 
 THE 
 INTERFERENCE OF PATRICIA
 
 The Works of 
 
 LILIAN BELL 
 * 
 
 Hope Loring * . * $1*50 
 Abroad with the Jimmies 1,50 
 The Interference of Patricia 1. 00 
 
 The Lilian Bell Birthday Book J.50 
 
 * 
 
 L. C PAGE & COMPANY 
 New England Building, Boston, Mass.
 
 '
 
 PATRICIA MARSTON
 
 Interference of Patricia 
 
 Lilian/Bell 
 
 Author of 
 
 " Hope Loring," " Abroad with the Jimmies," 
 " Love Affairs of an Old Maid," etc. 
 
 With a Frontispiece by 
 
 Frank T. Merrill 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 L C PAGE fie COMPAN
 
 Copyright, 1903 
 BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY 
 
 (INCORPORATED) 
 All rights reserved 
 
 Published July, 1903 
 
 Electrotypad and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. 
 Boston, Mass., U. S. A.
 
 MY GREATEST ADMIRATION AMONG MKN 
 
 A FRIEND, A COUNSELLOR, A CONFIDANT 
 
 WHOSE GENTLE SOUL KNOWS NAUGHT BUT GOOD 
 
 BELIEVES ONLY THE BEST 
 
 AIMS AT NOTHING BELOW THE HIGHEST 
 
 AND WHOSE RIGHT AND LEFT HANDS 
 
 ARE STRANGERS ONE TO 
 
 THE OTHER 
 
 2128751
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 I. THE MARSTON METHOD . . .11 
 II. IN WHICH MARSTON APPLIES His 
 
 METHOD ...... 21 
 
 III. CORNELIA WINTHROP ... 30 
 
 IV. ABERNETHY AND MARSTON . . 49 
 V. PATRICIA MARSTON .... 63 
 
 VI. How PATRICIA PREPARED FOR HER 
 
 PART 77 
 
 VII. THE FORTUNE-TELLER'S BOOTH . 87 
 
 VIII. AT THE DENVER CLUB . . .no 
 
 IX. PATRICIA AND LORD ABERNETHY . 121 
 
 X. THE Two MARSTONS . . . 139
 
 The 
 
 Interference of Patricia 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE MARSTON METHOD 
 
 GW. was the Boss Croker of Den- 
 ver, and president of the largest 
 bank in the town. 
 
 G. W. was not his whole name, but it 
 was what everybody who had borrowed 
 money of him called him, and as about the 
 only people in Denver who had not been 
 obliged to borrow money since the panic of 
 '93, when the bottom dropped out of the 
 town, were the dead and the unborn, you will 
 see that practically the entire population of 
 Denver called Mr. Marston " G. W." 
 
 Those whose mortgages G. W. had fore- 
 closed were inclined to say disagreeable 
 things about him and the way he had ac- 
 ii
 
 12 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 quired his wealth, and to call his success 
 luck. But in that they were mistaken, 
 blinded, led away, perhaps, by the bitterness 
 of their penniless condition. Possibly they 
 were inclined to brood morbidly as they saw 
 G. W. gather in and sell their real estate 
 and homes and horses which he had honestly 
 acquired when, in their panic, they had ap- 
 pealed to him, and he, out of friendship, 
 had accommodated them. He always re- 
 minded them of this, when they became 
 rude and said things to his face. He had 
 helped them, he declared, because in their 
 prosperous days they had been friends of 
 his. " I don't forget," he often said, " the 
 fine old trips East we used to take in your 
 private car and the way the champagne 
 flowed." So for that reason he lent them 
 money at eight per cent, and reluctantly 
 foreclosed on them a few years later, deeply 
 regretting the necessity, and offering to let 
 them have the property back at any time. 
 
 So with this handsome offer before them, 
 of course it was sheer foolishness of them 
 to complain besides being ungrateful. 
 But G. W. was used to ingratitude of this 
 sort. What philanthropist is not?
 
 The Marston Method 13 
 
 G. W.'s success was not due to luck, but 
 to a shrewdness and foresight which had 
 properly earned him the position he held. 
 He never foreclosed on city officials, news- 
 paper men, or clever lawyers. He lowered 
 the interest on the city fathers, not low 
 enough to allow them to get ahead and 
 pay up, but low enough to encourage them 
 to keep on with the interest. He took stock 
 as security from his newspaper acquaint- 
 ances, and led them to believe that they 
 could redeem it at any time. 
 
 He only foreclosed on old friends who 
 were not in active business or politics, but 
 did this with a reluctance which vastly 
 became him. In return for foreclosing, he 
 gave them sound advice, in case they cared 
 to make a fresh start. But the ungrateful 
 old creatures merely made a few pungent 
 remarks, and then sometimes they died. 
 Not from a broken heart, you understand, 
 for people never die of that, not even proud 
 men, ruined and chagrined in their old age, 
 nor beautiful young girls nor neglected 
 wives. They just die, that's all, and the 
 doctor sends in his certificate and then his 
 bill.
 
 14 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 Once G. W.'s health broke down and 
 they said he suffered from insomnia, but 
 Sylvestre, the young Eastern contractor, 
 suggested that it might be his conscience 
 working, and this was considered the best 
 joke got off in the Denver Club for many 
 a day. 
 
 But G. W. had such a tender heart that 
 he seldom did business of this sort person- 
 ally. He generally let Crossfuylen, the 
 cashier of the bank, attend to it. Cross- 
 fuylen had no heart, people said (which 
 was a calumny), and really seemed to take 
 delight in humbling the proud, but in 
 reality it was only Crossfuylen's business 
 enthusiasm, and he really did not under- 
 stand pride. His wife once complained that 
 his disagreeable duties of this sort injured 
 her in society, but Crossfuylen had a quiet 
 hour alone with her, in which he pointed 
 out the consequences of going contrary to 
 G. W.'s wishes, as thoroughly understood 
 by his henchman, and then he further paci- 
 fied her by buying one of the foreclosed 
 houses in the most aristocratic part of the 
 town, where she could fight it out. 
 
 j another banker, whose Hebraic
 
 The Marston Method 15 
 
 origin was more evident from his manner 
 than his name, was closely associated with 
 G. W. in many of his vaster schemes, but 
 he concealed himself behind G. W., even 
 as G. W. made use of the coat skirts of 
 Crossfuylen. 
 
 Ostensibly they were all now interested 
 in a scheme to sell the Denver trolley sys- 
 tem, the real reason for which was fully 
 known only to G. W. The other two prin- 
 cipal owners were partially aware of the 
 necessity, but of the complete plan they 
 were as positive they were in ignorance 
 as they were that they knew G. W. of old. 
 They watched him warily. 
 
 G. W. had just returned from a mys- 
 terious trip to New York, when the door 
 of his private office was flung open so un- 
 ceremoniously that a more nervous man 
 would have jumped, but G. W. was used 
 to Patricia's stormy ways and did not even 
 look up. 
 
 Patricia was his daughter. 
 
 " You're a nice one, you are ! " observed 
 the girl, standing in front of him and tap- 
 ping the leather of her riding-boots with 
 her whip. The handle was of gold, set
 
 1 6 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 with diamonds. She treated it as if it were 
 tin. It was lost half of the time. 
 
 G. W. waved his hand for her to be quiet, 
 and went on figuring. But Patricia was not 
 afraid of G. W. Far from it. She reached 
 out and flirted her whip up and down on 
 the page on which he was writing with an 
 impertinence which deserved a touch of her 
 jewelled toy. 
 
 "Let up on that stuff and listen to me, 
 will you, dad ? I haven't much time to spare. 
 I'm going to ride with Cornelia Winthrop 
 and Bob Sylvestre in an hour." 
 
 " * Cornelia Winthrop and Bob Syl- 
 vestre,' " repeated her father, removing his 
 gold-rimmed glasses and plunging into the 
 conversation as if he had left it off only 
 an hour ago, whereas he had not seen his 
 daughter for three weeks. " Who are 
 they?" 
 
 "Well, I don't call them Cornelia and 
 Bob to their faces, you can just bet your 
 life. They are Eastern. She is Mrs. Win- 
 throp, a widow, and Mr. Sylvestre is a 
 contractor who has come to bid on build- 
 ing the new road." 
 
 " Oh, new friends of yours ! "
 
 y The Marston Method 17 
 
 "Not yet, they aren't, but I want them 
 to be. It was the merest accident their 
 asking me to go with them to-day. I'll tell 
 you all about it some day. But I want you 
 to do something for me. I want to break 
 into society. I want to know these swells 
 who are for ever coming to Denver to get 
 rich God help 'em ! I want to be in it ! 
 The Bunces are. Why aren't you ? " 
 
 "What's that? What is Bunce in that 
 I'm not? If that damned Jew " 
 
 " Oh, he hasn't done anything since you 
 went away. You are not listening to me." 
 
 " Yes, I am. You said you wanted to 
 but your head into a stone wall." 
 
 Patricia laughed. 
 
 " Well, you must turn the stone wall into 
 a soft pillow so I won't break my nose." 
 
 G. W. got out his cheque-book. 
 
 " How much do you want? " 
 
 " I don't know. I want you to tell me 
 how to get in." 
 
 " How to get into society ? " repeated 
 G. W., in a bewildered tone. " How do 
 I know ? How do other people do it ? " 
 
 " Oh, they are willing to wait years and 
 do it gradually. Give little tea-parties and
 
 1 8 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 get to know the right people in that way. 
 But I want to do it in a big way. I want 
 to knock people silly. I want to flabbergast 
 the whole bunch." 
 
 G. W. looked at her proudly. His method 
 exactly! The Marston method! But he 
 thought a minute without speaking. He 
 was wholly at sea with a proposition of 
 that nature. He looked at his daughter 
 shrewdly. 
 
 " What do you want to do this for, 
 Patrichy?" 
 
 His keen eyes disconcerted her. She 
 looked away and he saw the colour flame 
 into her face, a bewitching face, where tiny 
 invisible muscles under her clear skin were 
 always twitching into suggestions of dim- 
 ples which never became tangible facts. 
 
 "Oh, just because!" she said, vaguely. 
 
 " I'll bet she is in love with that fellow 
 Sylvestre and wants to get him away from 
 the widow ! " thought her father. " She'll 
 do it, too! Trust her!" He laughed in- 
 wardly. 
 
 " Why don't you ask Mrs. Winthrop? " 
 he demanded suddenly, with deep diplomacy.
 
 The Marston Method 19 
 
 To his surprise her face gladdened with 
 relief. 
 
 "I just will!" she exclaimed. "Will 
 you foot the bills? They'll be hummers, 
 I warn you ! " 
 
 " Yes, I'll pay the piper. A man can't 
 turn such a cracker- jack loose in his bank- 
 account without expecting to fork over the 
 whole concern. Give me a kiss now, and 
 get out ! " 
 
 She made a graceful swoop at him as if 
 a swallow had dipped in her flight and fled, 
 slamming the door violently behind her. 
 
 G. W. rubbed his head. 
 
 " I feel as if I'd been visited by a cyclone 
 and unroofed," he said. 
 
 He ran his hand through his hair and 
 tipped back in his chair. He scrutinized 
 his note-book carefully, making notes in 
 cipher. Then he whistled softly. 
 
 " This is the biggest thing yet ! " he said 
 to himself. " Wheels within wheels, and 
 old G. W. the mainspring. Everybody go- 
 ing to get rich out of it. Bunce thinks he 
 can retire! Can he, or will he have to hire 
 out as my office boy? Crossfuylen thinks 
 he is on to the whole game! Is he? And
 
 2O The Interference of Patricia 
 
 old Jed! Jed Brown! Lord! It is to 
 laugh! He kicked like a Texas steer when 
 I notified him that I would take up my 
 option on his trolley stock at $125. One 
 hundred and twenty-five dollars ! He bought 
 it at 70. He ought to thank me. But not 
 old Jed. He is the nearest on to me of any- 
 body. Well, just you watch Papa twist the 
 whole bunch ! Specially Abernethy ! " he 
 added as an afterthought. 
 
 He despised the Englishman because he 
 wore a bracelet-watch.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 IN WHICH MARSTON APPLIES HIS METHOD 
 
 NOT a few would have been glad 
 for a quiet hour alone with that 
 little fat red note-book of G. W.'s 
 if they had known the key to his cipher. 
 But G. W. kept his own counsel. But to 
 explain the matter as it now stood in as 
 simple a manner as possible, although in 
 G. W.'s hands it was anything but a simple 
 proposition, his plans were these. 
 
 They were very complex, but Marston 
 prided himself on this very complexity. He 
 delighted to employ a rascal and then to 
 beat him at his very rascality. He loved 
 the course tortuous, the maze, the labyrinth. 
 No one really ever knew what he was up 
 to, but everybody suspected him. He was 
 an excellent poker player, and his business 
 was conducted on the same method. He 
 
 21
 
 22 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 bluffed with an air that was childlike and 
 bland. 
 
 Now no one admired this turn of his mind 
 more than Jimmie Cheroot, the paid hench- 
 man of Jed Brown. Jed and G. W. were 
 business associates in everything, but never 
 a day passed that Jed did not try to " do " 
 G. W. or that G. W. did not endeavour to 
 wreck Jed. They watched each other like 
 two bulldogs. 
 
 Jed was a strange combination of busi- 
 ness tyrant and domestic coward. His early 
 married life was a mystery about which 
 people continually whispered. His wife 
 beggars description. She was unspeakable. 
 Their one daughter was a timid, deprecating 
 girl, afraid of her mother's language and 
 temper and ashamed of her father. 
 
 The Browns were not in society any 
 more than the Marstons were. Even Denver 
 draws the line somewhere. But Jimmie 
 Cheroot, by virtue of a nice wife, was. He 
 "always made it a point to know the 
 swells" from which statement the en- 
 lightened can determine his standing in 
 society and just how far he was entitled 
 to go.
 
 f Marston Applies His Method 23 
 
 Jimmie was a slim, dapper little blond, 
 who was always looking for the crumbs 
 which fell from a rich man's table. He was 
 both clever and cautious. Although in the 
 confidence and pay of Jed Brown, many were 
 the little quiet turns he made for G. W., 
 whose methods he madly admired. He em- 
 ulated them also to the extent that, if the 
 time ever came, when he could make a for- 
 tune by selling out both Jed and G. W., for 
 a sure thing from a third party, Jimmie 
 Cheroot, slim, dapper and blond, could be 
 counted upon to do it. 
 
 Jimmie had of late been assiduous in 
 furnishing information to G. W. unavail- 
 able from any other source. For instance 
 it was Jimmie's habit to ingratiate himself 
 with the people who owed G. W. money, 
 by virtue of his wife's calling acquaintance, 
 and over a glass of wine and a cigar to 
 offer to appraise the mortgaged property, 
 quite as a matter of friendship, and if 
 he discovered a weakness even on the way, 
 he made a note of it for G. W. But to his 
 friends, over another glass df wine and 
 several more cigars, he suggested a shifting 
 of securities to obtain more time, which
 
 24 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 often, since he was doing all this as a matter 
 of friendship, earned him valuable presents 
 from the grateful and unsuspicious creatures. 
 They never connected the almost immediate 
 foreclosure of G. W.'s mortgages on their 
 property with Jimmie's intimate knowledge 
 of their affairs. In fact he often dined with 
 them afterward. 
 
 Knowing these things, and feeling sure 
 that his reward was bound to come, it was 
 not a surprise when one day G. W. sent 
 for Jimmie and showed his hand. That is, 
 Jimmie thought he showed his hand. G. 
 W.'s frank and genial air had deceived 
 cleverer men than Jimmie Cheroot. 
 
 " You know/' said G. W., " that Bunce 
 and Jed and I practically own the trolley 
 and that we want to sell it. I am going into 
 politics and I want cash. The other two 
 don't want to stay in it without me, so we 
 have conceived this plan. Seen the papers 
 lately? Then you must have noticed that 
 in every one of them are big advertisements 
 for * applications for stock of a new trans- 
 continental railroad.' Applications, you un- 
 derstand. Now, Bunce got his brother, the 
 New York one, I don't believe the Omaha
 
 ^Marston Applies His Method 25 
 
 one would have done it, to father the 
 scheme. It won't surprise a little devil like 
 you to know that that railroad will never 
 be built. But it will sell the trolley. 
 
 " Now, I happen to know that Lord 
 Abernethy has millions to invest. I want 
 him to buy this trolley for a quick turn, 
 you understand, to sell it to the railroad. 
 Tell him the road has got to have it, for 
 it has no right of way through Denver and 
 that the franchise can be arranged. Go to 
 him on your own hook, in a confidential 
 way. He will probably at once ask you 
 why we don't hold on and sell it ourselves. 
 To this you must answer that I am going 
 into politics, and, as I must not be identified 
 with any corporations existing upon a public 
 franchise, I would probably sell for cash 
 now at a moderate figure, rather than wait 
 a couple of years and then take stock in 
 the railroad company for it. That's your 
 strong point, see? The stock is now worth 
 $105. I have an option on Jed's and Bunce's 
 at $125, and you must tell him that you 
 think you could get an option from me on 
 more than a controlling interest say, prac- 
 tically the whole thing at $150. I think
 
 26 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 he'll jump at it. If you can do this, there 
 will be a big bunch of cash in it for you." 
 
 Jimmie's eyes glistened. He said nothing 
 for a moment, and G. W. watched him 
 warily. No one knew better than Marston 
 himself what big chances he was taking 
 chances which would have staggered a more 
 timid man, but G. W. was an inordinate 
 poker player, and while sometimes playing 
 so careful a game as to savour more of 
 whist than poker, again his recklessness was 
 enough to make one's hair stand on end. 
 He used the same tactics in business. As 
 Jed Brown expressed it, " With G. W., you 
 never can tell which way the cat's going to 
 jump." 
 
 But it gave his enemies something to 
 think about. 
 
 Just now G. W. was confronted by tre- 
 mendous odds. He wondered how much 
 Jimmie knew. He would have paid a neat 
 little sum to know if Jimmie suspected that 
 his hold over the city council was weaken- 
 ing and that his real reason for selling was 
 that they were going to make an election 
 issue of the removal of the cable conduit, 
 which hitherto G. W. had been able to pre-
 
 * Marston Applies His Method 27 
 
 vent. The expense of this would practi- 
 cally put the road back into bankruptcy and 
 seriously handicap its three chief owners, 
 Marston, Bunce, and Brown. 
 
 G. W. had, by great diplomacy, persuaded 
 the more influential newspapers to give him 
 a little more time, promising all sorts of 
 return favours if they would. To accom- 
 modate their largest and most powerful 
 stockholder, they were amenable to a cer- 
 tain extent. But the time was short 
 alarmingly short. And so Marston and 
 Bunce had contrived a scheme of which 
 they thought best to say nothing to Jed 
 Brown. 
 
 Jed felt the sting of this more than the 
 loss of his second profit. He knew some 
 game was up of which he was to know 
 nothing when G. W. took his trolley stock 
 at $125. 
 
 He too was now an enemy to G. W.'s 
 scheme, but the safety of it lay in the swift- 
 ness with which G. W. hoped to act and 
 the amount of secrecy with which he could 
 invest his moves. 
 
 How much did Jimmie know and how 
 far could he be bought?
 
 28 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 Marston paid high for his men, and firmly 
 agreed with the wit who declared that " an 
 honest man was one who would stay 
 bought." 
 
 " Do you know Lord Abernethy ? " asked 
 Jimmie. 
 
 " No, never saw him but once, and then 
 I had all I could do to keep from giving 
 him a swift kick for wearing a bracelet- 
 watch. The ass ! " 
 
 Jimmie laughed good-humouredly. He 
 felt infinitely above G. W. in that he did 
 not resent such signs of an effete civilization. 
 He felt that G. W. was very Western and 
 doubted if he would feel at all at home in 
 the Waldorf-Astoria. Jimmie always used 
 the hyphen when speaking of that hotel. 
 
 " You know him, don't you ? " said 
 G. W. 
 
 Jimmie shot out his cuffs. 
 
 " Oh, yes, 7 know him," he said. 
 
 " Then don't lose an hour. See him this 
 afternoon, if possible, and don't forget. 
 Politics!" 
 
 Jimmie took his hat and went out. He 
 paused a moment on the steps to light a 
 cigar.
 
 Marston Applies His Method 29 
 
 " I wonder," he said to himself, " if 
 G. W. is an ass or if he only takes me for 
 one! He would have done a little better 
 for himself if he had told me more. Going 
 into politics ! G. W. ! " 
 
 And Jimmie Cheroot's tongue went into 
 his cheek.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 CORNELIA WINTHROP 
 
 DENVER lay blinking in the brilliant 
 white sunshine which makes the 
 town such a glory to some and 
 such a horror to others. Only Athens, of 
 all the other cities in the world, can boast 
 such a limpid atmosphere and such a blind- 
 ing glare. But Denver lies so high that 
 the heat never seems oppressive. The sun 
 does not descend with a damp, languorous 
 heat. It beats down dry, hot, baking. It 
 cooks the already cooked earth into still 
 greater hardness. It powders the alkali dust 
 into still finer particles. It parches even 
 the edges of the irrigating ditches into a 
 substance as hard as stone. Not a shadow 
 nor a cloud breaks its pitiless glare. Tired 
 eyes blink in vain for a rest from its blind- 
 ing clearness. Gray days are a luxury 
 almost unknown.
 
 Cornelia Winthrop 31 
 
 The air, clear, cool, transparent, is charged 
 with an ozone and electricity which invig- 
 orate the lungs but shatter the nerves and 
 exhaust the heart. Jaded men who go to 
 Denver for the first time feel ten years 
 younger. They declare that they could 
 walk twenty miles. Their blood dances; 
 their feet prance. They square off and spar 
 at their own images in the mirror and feel 
 inclined to slap every man on the back in 
 sheer rejuvenation and exhilaration. 
 
 Nervous women, after a few months of 
 Denver, sit with every muscle unconsciously 
 drawn tense, and grow hysterical on the 
 slightest provocation. 
 
 High-strung race-horses pound their deli- 
 cate feet to pieces on the hard white roads 
 and run themselves to death if not restrained. 
 Family horses brought from a lower altitude 
 astonish people by running away and kick- 
 ing the dashboard of the family carriage 
 into unregenerate splinters. Mules, accus- 
 tomed elsewhere to blows and curses, go 
 with only a polite urging in Denver, where- 
 fore it is said that the climate is hard on 
 women and fine horses and good for men 
 and mules.
 
 32 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 This strangely exhilarating effect of alti- 
 tude is made responsible for all the excesses 
 committed in cities which lie as high as 
 Denver. A consumptive husband goes to 
 Denver and is cured, but his wife dies of 
 heart disease. It is the altitude. Men who 
 gambled and drank moderately in the East 
 go to Denver and do both to excess. Ex- 
 citement must be worked off in some 
 manner, they say. Again the altitude. If 
 a man ran away with his friend's wife, there 
 would surely be some one to excuse it on 
 the plea of the altitude. 
 
 So it will be seen that sun and air, like 
 poisons, are only remedial when used in 
 diluted form, and have a disastrous effect 
 upon overexposed nerves and morals. 
 
 For this reason Denver society has more 
 sharply divided social lines than most cities 
 of its size and youth. One set stops at 
 nothing; the other is almost puritanical. 
 Those who are shocked by the excesses of 
 the first, and repelled by the limitations of 
 the second, have the dullest time of all, 
 being obliged to watch their every word 
 and choose their every act, for malignant 
 gossip, which in lower altitudes merely
 
 Cornelia Winthrop 33 
 
 flourishes, attains to a poisonous tropical 
 growth in Denver, while perhaps if it lay 
 lower 
 
 But however 
 
 It is idle to speculate. Let it simply be 
 said that moderation is looked upon with 
 suspicion by the extremists of both sets, 
 for the Puritans are as vain of their narrow- 
 ness as the other class is of its breadth. 
 
 There were charming people in Denver 
 society in both sets, such as Mrs. Lowe and 
 her three sisters, all tall, beautiful women, 
 and one the wife of ex-Governor Charnley. 
 Denver is full of ex-governors most of 
 them able men with admirable wives, but 
 some, alas, boors so ignorant of society and 
 its ways that one marvels that even politics 
 could seat them in the gubernatorial chair. 
 One governor elected from the southern 
 part of the State arrived in Denver with his 
 luggage in gunny-sacks tied with clothes- 
 line. He rented one of the handsomest 
 houses in Denver, with tapestry-covered 
 walls and priceless rugs, but finding living 
 more expensive than he had calculated upon, 
 he sent his wife back to the ranch, dismissed 
 his servants, and cooked his own meals on an
 
 34 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 oil stove, set up in a white and gold boudoir 
 on the second floor. 
 
 But the sister of Mrs. Lowe, Mrs. Charn- 
 ley, was of a different sort. These ladies 
 would have graced a drawing-room on Fifth 
 Avenue and have been quite at home there. 
 In addition to these graces, they were so 
 charmingly devoted to each other that, when 
 the four of them paid a round of calls to- 
 gether, the footman always had to speak 
 twice, each was so absorbed in conversation 
 with her own sisters. 
 
 So difficult is this task of steering between 
 the two sets that it might almost be said 
 that there was no middle course in Denver 
 society. Money reigns supreme, nor will 
 it do to inquire too closely into your neigh- 
 bour's past. The early days lie too near. 
 Miners, who struck it rich and about whose 
 eldest children there floats a suspicion of 
 carelessness as to the marriage dates of their 
 parents, bring their wives, once cooks or 
 even women of the town, to Denver. Their 
 millions buy them all that is required. A 
 few years, a very few, and they are able 
 to see their daughters return from an East- 
 ern school and lock arms with the blue-
 
 Cornelia Winthrop 35 
 
 blooded, who cannot repel the onslaught of 
 such colossal fortunes. The blue-blooded, 
 the well-born, are there, but are tossed help- 
 lessly on the in-rolling sea of money, even 
 though it covers more than coarseness and 
 illiteracy. 
 
 It was into this heterogeneous mass of 
 so-called society that Cornelia Winthrop 
 found herself plunged, when her husband's 
 death on board his yacht left her with only 
 a pittance of money and an all but worth- 
 less gold mine in Colorado. 
 
 As she unearthed his debts and paid them 
 all, even the most disgraceful, the last rem- 
 nant of her respect and love for him died. 
 She wiped out his debts with a flush of 
 scorn and averted face. She felt that the 
 money which paid them polluted her finger- 
 tips. The cheques she signed reeked of their 
 foul errands. But of all this even her near- 
 est and dearest were ignorant. She tried to 
 conceal it from even her lawyers. Bob 
 Sylvestre, who had loved her before she 
 married Gallup Winthrop, only suspected. 
 But when she declared that the only thing 
 to do was to go to Denver and see if any- 
 thing could be done with the mine, he
 
 36 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 followed and soon unearthed in the Marston 
 railroad an excuse for staying. 
 
 These two were riding along Grant Ave- 
 nue several weeks after the morning of 
 Patricia's interview with her father, wait- 
 ing for her to overtake them. They were 
 going to select a polo ground. They drew 
 rein to let the trolley flash by. As they 
 rode up on the track Sylvestre pointed with 
 his crop. 
 
 " Here is one of the greatest puzzles of 
 the business world." 
 
 " What? This trolley? " asked Cornelia. 
 
 " The trolley is part of it. I can't make 
 Marston out. I am positive that he is up 
 to some devilment. He claims that he wants 
 to retire from active business and go into 
 politics. But I don't believe it. I can't help 
 thinking that he is in some way interested in 
 this transcontinental railroad, although it is 
 being financed and put through by the New 
 York set." 
 
 " But what would be his motive? " asked 
 Cornelia. 
 
 ' That is what I don't know. Abernethy 
 has about decided to buy the trolley for his 
 syndicate. He is quite chuckling over the
 
 Cornelia Winthrop 37 
 
 snap. He was approached by a party 
 he didn't give his name with inside 
 knowledge which was very valuable to 
 Abernethy. Of course he will have to pay 
 the middleman handsomely for it some- 
 thing like two thousand pounds cash on the 
 day the money is paid over and the price 
 made Abernethy gasp, but he declares it is 
 worth it. He expects to sell the trolley to 
 the railroad inside of a year. I don't like 
 the looks of it. I warned him to look out 
 for a nigger in the fence, but, like all Eng- 
 lishmen, he is quite confident of his own 
 abilities and told me he could look out for 
 himself." 
 
 Cornelia smiled. She knew Sylvestre 
 well. She knew that he was in a mood when 
 he could find a grievance in one thing as 
 well as in another. He had no particular 
 interest in Abernethy beyond that of an 
 ordinary acquaintance. No, his grievance 
 lay with Cornelia herself. 
 
 Sylvestre was in that partially irritated 
 and jealous state in which a man finds him- 
 self, when he has begun to feel a proprietary 
 interest in a woman before he has the rights 
 of either lover or husband.
 
 38 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 Cornelia lived at the Brown Palace Hotel 
 with a colourless mother who counted for 
 nothing. Cornelia often went into the din- 
 ing-room alone. She was young. She was 
 beautiful, and men stared at her. Of all 
 this Bob Sylvestre highly disapproved. He 
 came perilously near disapproving of her 
 beauty except when he was alone with her. 
 He disapproved most of all of her acquaint- 
 ance with Patricia Marston. 
 
 " She rides like a centaur, Bob, and you 
 can't deny that she has a lovely face and 
 the figure of a goddess," she was saying. 
 
 "She rides like Buffalo Bill and talks 
 like a cowboy," answered Sylvestre, with 
 drawn brows. 
 
 " But she is honest and fearless and good. 
 Oh, Bob, you ought to appreciate such an 
 innocent creature as Patricia. Her heart 
 is one I would try to win if I were a man." 
 
 " You aren't suggesting that I might try 
 for it, are you ? " asked the man, bending 
 his sudden gaze upon her. 
 
 A wave of colour swept over her face. 
 
 " No," she said, softly. " I don't care to 
 have you love her, Bob."
 
 Cornelia Winthrop 39 
 
 Their love for each other was understood, 
 but was not to be spoken of at present. 
 
 " But you have taken her up, have you 
 not? " he went on. " Do you think you can 
 afford to be seen going about with a girl 
 who is not in even the society of her own 
 town, who " 
 
 Cornelia gave him a look. 
 
 " Do you think," she said, evenly, " that 
 I care what anybody in Denver thinks of 
 me? Is not my position secure enough 
 where I come from, to bear even a few com- 
 ments from such as would comment upon 
 what I choose to do? And if I am seen with 
 Patricia Marston, will she not be counte- 
 nanced by even the choice society of Den- 
 ver?" 
 
 Sylvestre's face flushed. 
 
 " There's no use in being so nasty about 
 it, Cornelia. I didn't mean to annoy you 
 nor to insinuate I was only thinking that 
 people here don't know who you are. They 
 have heard of you at Newport and in New 
 York and Washington, but that means noth- 
 ing to people who don't belong, to people 
 who get their idea of society from the ' So- 
 cial Column ' of the Sunday papers, whether
 
 40 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 they live in Denver or Salt Lake or Chicago. 
 To these people you are forgive me, Cor- 
 nelia, but I'm going to be rude to these 
 people you are no more than any pretty little 
 widow who comes to Denver with a scheme. 
 You might just as well be in Washington 
 with a ' claim.' They don't know who your 
 people are. They don't know, as I do, that 
 anything you might do or say would be 
 forgiven at home, because you are Cornelia 
 Winthrop and have all the backing there is. 
 You don't seem to understand and I'm only 
 trying to explain " 
 
 " I do understand more than you think," 
 she interrupted, " and I'm not even annoyed 
 at your brutality, because you are only try- 
 ing to take care of me, and you don't quite 
 know how. I know that these people do 
 not know who I am, but why should they? 
 And who am I anyway? A woman, well 
 born. But I have no money, so my birth 
 counts for nothing out here. Well, why 
 should it? And do we care for the opinion 
 of those whose good-will I could buy if I 
 had a fortune? I did not come out here 
 for society. God knows I have had enough 
 of that," she exclaimed, with sudden bitter-
 
 ' Cornelia Winthrop 41 
 
 ness, and Sylvestre knew she was thinking 
 of her husband. She recovered herself and 
 went on: 
 
 " People talk everywhere you know 
 that. But if I befriend a pure and lovely 
 girl who has no faults which I can discover, 
 except those of a merry tomboy, why not 
 let me do it? I can do her much good, 
 and she can do me no harm." 
 
 " But her language, Cornelia ! I have 
 never heard a beautiful mouth so disfigure 
 itself with such slang." 
 
 " But that is a fault which she may 
 will correct. And I know just why she will 
 correct it. You might be surprised, you 
 who dislike it so, to know what that very 
 slang and her wild ways and her wilful 
 manner have done for her." 
 
 " I can't believe that they have done any- 
 thing very good," said Sylvestre, with a 
 frown. 
 
 " But they have, although it is a secret as 
 yet. Perhaps it is a secret even from her." 
 
 " What is it? " asked the man. 
 
 " I can't tell you. Keep your eyes open 
 and you will learn," answered the woman. 
 
 Sylvestre shook his head and sighed, as
 
 42 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 if he gave it all up. But he was uncon- 
 vinced. 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop squared in her saddle and 
 looked at him. 
 
 " Bob," she said, " you are a good man, 
 refined and gentle, but sometimes you appear 
 narrow to me and very young. Perhaps 
 I don't understand you. Possibly you don't 
 understand me. I have lived through a 
 good deal, Bob, more than you will ever 
 know, and perhaps it has given me a changed 
 view. At any rate it has taught me to 
 appreciate purity and truth and honour in 
 man or woman. But only purity and truth 
 and honour, with no enlivening sense of 
 humour to lend excitement or patience would 
 bore me to death ! " 
 
 Sylvestre looked at her with puzzled and 
 slightly troubled eyes. He was a trifle 
 stupid. 
 
 " I don't quite see how a sense of humour 
 would " he began, but the woman inter- 
 rupted him, with one of her lightning flashes 
 of intuition which so dazzled him. 
 
 'You are going to say you don't see 
 how a sense of humour lends patience. But 
 think. How could I have borne my life
 
 Cornelia Winthrop 43 
 
 you knew Gallup and you knew my father 
 how could any woman have borne what 
 I have without a sense of humour? Grim, 
 perhaps, at times, but it always enabled me 
 to step outside of myself and take the point 
 of view of a third person, who was neither 
 my husband nor myself. Yet who, know- 
 ing us both so well, could laugh! I should 
 have gone mad or committed suicide if I 
 hadn't been able to laugh. Oh, you can 
 bear things, if occasionally you can step 
 aside and laugh at them ! " 
 
 " I see," said Sylvestre, slowly. But he 
 did not see. Very few men can see when 
 a woman they love is trying to unravel an 
 objectionable knot in the feminine make-up. 
 " But," he added, with a slight flush, " par- 
 don my referring to it, but if you have as 
 you have gone through all you say you have, 
 why do you long for more of the same 
 er ' excitement/ I believe you called it? " 
 
 " Not the same kind," said Cornelia, 
 quickly, "but excitement of some kind. 
 That's why I came out here to investigate 
 my mine. I only reproach myself because 
 I let you waste your time helping me to 
 look into it. If I choose to waste mine, that
 
 44 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 is my affair. A woman's time is not valua- 
 ble. But yours " 
 
 " I couldn't have done better with my 
 summer," declared Sylvestre. " I surveyed 
 a connecting line between Jed Brown's little 
 ten-mile railroad and Sick Devil Gap 
 where the new railroad must run if it goes 
 at all. I'm going to New York to offer my 
 plan to those men. The road must go 
 through Agua there is no other way. 
 You need mention it to no one urge your 
 claim upon no one. Sit still and make the 
 promoters come to you. Your mine might 
 as well not exist for you, with no capital. 
 It is a rich man's mine. It will take the 
 most expensive of machinery and millions 
 of capital, which may take you years to get. 
 Therefore my advice is to sell it and let 
 somebody else do the waiting." 
 
 " That is my idea exactly. I'd rather 
 have a hundred thousand now than a mil- 
 lion ten years from now," said Cornelia. 
 
 " Won't this furnish you with your ' ex- 
 citement ' ? " asked Sylvestre. 
 
 "Of one sort yes. But I also crave a 
 social sort, such as Patricia furnishes. Why 
 do I wish it? Because I am I! Because
 
 Cornelia Winthrop 45 
 
 I am the kind who hates a dead level. Be- 
 cause I I often think " she sank her 
 voice to a whisper " that was why I mar- 
 ried Gallup Winthrop. I didn't realize how 
 much more he was than I wanted, nor what 
 it would seem at close range. That is why 
 no woman of my temperament should 
 marry young. Too often she marries from 
 curiosity. She thinks she knows the 
 world " 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop covered her eyes with her 
 hand, as if, in a backward glance, she saw 
 too much. She recovered herself quickly 
 and went on: 
 
 " Perhaps you will understand me better 
 if I ask you if you don't actually hate a hero- 
 ine in a book who is too beautiful and too 
 good and who never uses slang, nor uses 
 rouge nor powder nor has sick headaches 
 nor anything natural! Don't you long to 
 hiss such a leading lady on the stage? " 
 
 " Why, no ! " exclaimed Sylvestre, in a 
 shocked tone. He glanced half fearfully at 
 the complexion of the woman at his side, 
 wondering if he would be able to detect it, 
 if she did use rouge.
 
 46 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 She met his glance with a disconcerting 
 laugh. 
 
 " You are too stupid to know it if I did ! " 
 she mocked. " But just to prove to you that 
 I don't that is, that I have none on to- 
 day," she interrupted herself to laugh a 
 little he was such easy game! 
 " Look." 
 
 She rubbed her cheek fiercely with her 
 handkerchief and held it out to him. His 
 eyes took in the reddened cheek, but he 
 turned his head away. He refused to look 
 at the handkerchief. She saw the gauntlet 
 which held the reins tighten. 
 
 "Bob," she said, softly. "Forgive me! 
 I didn't mean to tease you." 
 
 He turned and looked at her. 
 
 " Cornelia," he said, simply. " I have 
 only been trying to say that I feel like taking 
 off my hat when I even think of you ! " 
 
 He never made any other apology or 
 excuse for his lack of comprehension or 
 excess of zeal, and the woman riding at his 
 side drew her breath sharply. She looked at 
 him with grateful, shining eyes. 
 
 " It isn't money or position or any of 
 those things which matter to me now," she
 
 Cornelia Winthrop 47 
 
 breathed. " All I want is to be happy. To 
 be happy just once! " 
 
 Sylvestre's face flushed understandingly. 
 He opened his lips to reply, but hesitated, 
 for suddenly the clatter of a madly ridden 
 horse sounded behind them, and they drew 
 up to wait. It was Patricia, of course. 
 
 The clatter came nearer and nearer. Mrs. 
 Winthrop's eyes sparkled and her cheek 
 flushed. 
 
 " Listen ! " she cried. " Hear the girl 
 ride! Oh, Bob, I wish I could ride like 
 that!" 
 
 But Sylvestre was not envying nor admir- 
 ing Patricia's riding. He was wondering 
 what Cornelia meant when she said that 
 Patricia had a secret. What could her secret 
 be ? Had somebody fallen in love with her ? 
 It was not impossible, for there were men 
 somewhere who would not be repelled 
 by the freedom of her speech. Perhaps some 
 of the officers at Fort Logan. He remem- 
 bered to have seen her dancing quite fre- 
 quently with two lieutenants, Buckerman 
 and Coatsworth he believed they were. But 
 Patricia Marston married into the army? 
 He fairly gasped at the idea. He ran over
 
 48 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 the list of the bachelors at the Denver Club. 
 It might be one of these. But would Cor- 
 nelia call their falling in love with a girl 
 " a good thing " for her? He thought not. 
 His mind turned to the list of transients in 
 Denver always a long one and one which 
 frequently bore honoured names. There was 
 Lord Abernethy. He smiled involuntarily 
 at the idea of his caring for Patricia. He 
 would be a catch. But Abernethy? The 
 idea! It might be Sir Wemyss Lombard. 
 He was a sport and fond of yes, by Jove ! 
 He was fond of polo! They were intent 
 upon introducing the game to Denver, and 
 that very morning were on their way to 
 select a ground. Well, well! Sylvestre 
 involuntarily straightened himself, being 
 puffed up with vainglorious pride at having 
 put two and two together and made one out 
 of it. Cornelia Winthrop couldn't have done 
 it better, he reflected. 
 
 He was so pleased with himself that he 
 became benevolent to Patricia and felt in- 
 clined to look with different eyes upon her 
 beauty.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 ABERNETHY AND MARSTON 
 
 JIMMIE CHEROOTS report to G. W. 
 was in all respects satisfactory. He 
 carefully baited the Englishman, and 
 negotiated between them until Abernethy 
 was convinced that he had a wonderful bar- 
 gain in his option on the trolley stock at 
 $150 per share, and G. W. frankly said that 
 Cheroot was a wonder. 
 
 At a game where both parties were to be 
 outwitted by a third and that third was 
 Jimmie, he certainly was a " wonder." 
 
 Up to this point Jimmie had been an 
 effectual go-between and G. W. had not met 
 Lord Abernethy. But the time came when 
 a meeting was inevitable and Jimmie could 
 no longer keep them apart. He was a little 
 anxious, as was only pardonable, that no 
 private conversation should take place be- 
 tween them, as it might prove a trifle embar- 
 49
 
 50 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 rassing if they should learn that he was tak- 
 ing a commission from both. Jimmy was 
 sensitive about things of that sort. 
 
 But Marston was not anxious for a close 
 acquaintance with the noble English lord, 
 for he despised, as only a rough Westerner 
 can, the rings on Abernethy's hands, his 
 monocle, and above all his bracelet-watch. 
 No red rag was ever so irritating to a bull 
 as that bit of leather was to Marston. His 
 fingers curled involuntarily whenever he 
 thought of it. He wondered if he would be 
 able to hold himself in when they met. 
 
 Fitzhugh St. John Goddard, Lord Aber- 
 nethy, only son of the Duke of Strowther and 
 brother of the famous beauty, Lady Mary 
 Goddard, was of the slender, fair, blue- 
 eyed type, with narrow shoulders and an 
 incipient cough. Having been wounded in 
 South Africa and being curious of temper, 
 he naturally came to America and to the 
 high altitude of the Rockies. 
 
 He came intending to lead an idle life as 
 far as work was concerned, but strenuous 
 as to play. But no sooner was it learned that 
 he was in the vicinity of mines, railroads, 
 and other colossal ways of making money,
 
 Abernethy and Marston 51 
 
 than several of his father's friends, with 
 more money than judgment, wrote him to 
 keep his weather eye open for investments, 
 " preferably mining," they said. 
 
 " Preferably mining ! " 
 
 It would seem almost a pity for even an 
 honest man to let slip an opportunity to 
 annex money which was so easy as that. 
 But with the Denver business market in the 
 state it was then, one need not worry for 
 fear Abernethy's English friends would not 
 be accommodated with opportunities to in- 
 vest, for no sooner had the indiscreet young 
 man casually mentioned that he had been so 
 instructed, than the vultures which infest the 
 town for the express purpose of robbing the 
 unwary by foolish investments of wise capi- 
 tal, circled around him and roosted, so to 
 speak, in every dead tree near which he 
 halted. 
 
 Had his friends in England only known 
 this phase of Denver life, it would have been 
 wiser if they had frankly cabled him, " If 
 you see any gold bricks, buy them for us." 
 
 But Abernethy had all of an Englishman's 
 good opinion of himself and his capacity for 
 knowing what's what, and if any one had
 
 52 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 warned him, he would have felt offended. 
 He was stubborn in spite of his gentle speech 
 and opinionated in spite of his courteous 
 manner. He never thrust his views upon 
 any one, but if you asked for them, you got 
 them straight, no matter whose feelings 
 were hurt. You could drive him into a 
 corner, but you could not make him sur- 
 render. 
 
 He had no tact and he was ignorant of 
 the small prejudices of American men. He 
 had been brought up as an English gentle- 
 man, and he never knew how certain small 
 so-called affectations of this up-bringing 
 could sting those who were unfamiliar with 
 them. He had never had occasion to realize 
 that the hide of an American man in busi- 
 ness may be as thick as that of a pachyderm, 
 while in things social a gnat-bite would raise 
 a poisoned white welt. 
 
 It was only natural that Abernethy should 
 fall a victim to the dazzling glories of the 
 Marston trolley scheme, as set forth by 
 Cheroot, and when G. W. was told the result 
 of the negotiations, he licked his jaws pre- 
 paratory to making one bite of Abernethy 
 and his trusting English friends.
 
 im 
 
 Abernethy and Marston 53 
 
 An informal meeting of those interested 
 had been called for three o'clock in the 
 afternoon at the Marston Bank, and 
 promptly at the hour the men began to 
 file in. 
 
 Bunce came first, being anxious to look 
 the ground over and see if he saw any signs 
 of the Marston method. Bunce was impor- 
 tant to G. W., for Bunce had a brother who 
 was president of a bank in Omaha, and 
 another in New York. It would never do to 
 offend Bunce. Therefore G. W. received 
 him with cordiality and offered him a 
 cigar. 
 
 Next Crossfuylen, the cashier, and Jed 
 Brown entered. Crossfuylen had a waist 
 like a girl, delicate lungs, a furtive manner, 
 and light green eyes. 
 
 Sir Wemyss Lombard followed these 
 *two. Marston liked Sir Wemyss. He was 
 big, red-faced, near-sighted, and silent. He 
 blushed if spoken to suddenly, but no one 
 who looked long into those choleric blue 
 eyes of his would care to offend him. 
 
 In addition to these qualities, he could 
 drink a quart of Scotch whiskey between 
 ten o'clock at night and bedtime and walk
 
 54 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 up-stairs without touching the banisters. 
 This inspired Denver men with absolute 
 awe. When G. W. saw him do it, he at 
 once offered to take him into the company, 
 and as Sir Wemyss had no money, G. W. 
 promptly " staked " him, Sir Wemyss put- 
 ting up some perfectly worthless shares in 
 an East Indian company against shares in the 
 Denver trolley. This was done in a game of 
 poker in which they each played for stock 
 and G. W. promptly lost purposely to Sir 
 Wemyss a not unheard-of act if you 
 knew the other side of the man. No one 
 could say that G. W. was not appreciative 
 of merit whenever and wherever he found it. 
 
 When Lord Abernethy entered, G. W. 
 glanced involuntarily at his bracelet-watch, 
 and when he saw it, a look of disgust spread 
 over his features. 
 
 No two men could have been more unlike 
 than Abernethy and Marston. 
 
 Marston's was of the bulldog variety of 
 countenance. . His eyes were small and 
 brown, with inflamed rims. His nose was 
 small and smoothly bulbous, with tiny pur- 
 plish veins showing against the red. It was 
 embedded in his face, while his jaws were
 
 Abernethy and Marston 55 
 
 loose-hung and closed with the snap of a 
 steel trap. He was an exaggeration of 
 the type of men who have made the West, 
 while Abernethy's was that of an English 
 type, overrefined, overcivilized, gone to seed. 
 
 The meeting was one called by Marston 
 for the double purpose of entering into the 
 agreement with Abernethy to give to him a 
 sixty-day option on the trolley stock for 
 the English syndicate, and to show to Tap- 
 pen and Wright, the city fathers, that he was 
 really going to do as he had promised them. 
 
 Whenever Marston spoke he kept his eye 
 on Abernethy, but did not observe that the 
 small, piercing eyes, the colour of Delft 
 china, of Lombard were fixed closely upon 
 his own person. Sir Wemyss, fumbling with 
 his watch-guard, and his general bungling 
 manner completely threw the American off 
 his guard. " A damned good fellow, but 
 somewhat of an ass as most Englishmen 
 are," was Marston's description of Sir 
 Wemyss. But the glorious scheme had en- 
 tered the American's mind of securing Sir 
 Wemyss for a son-in-law. He leaned back 
 in his chair in deep contemplation, ending by
 
 56 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 a grave shake of the head, every time he 
 thought of that quart of Scotch whiskey. 
 
 Meantime Sir Wemyss had his suspicion 
 of that poker game, and he had all of an 
 honest man's suspicion of a proposition to 
 give something for nothing. So, while he 
 was too wise to refuse to sit in the game, 
 he saw no harm in watching the shuffling of 
 the cards and the movements of the dealer. 
 
 Jimmie Cheroot and Ajbernethy repre- 
 sented the purchasing syndicate. 
 
 Things went smoothly in the meeting 
 until it developed that the purchasing price 
 was at $150 per share. Then Jed Brown's 
 eyes met those of G. W., for G. W. had 
 during the past ten days taken up his option 
 on Jed's stock at $125, and although legally 
 the action could not be questioned, Jed recog- 
 nized the Marston method in it, and he then 
 and there made up his mind to get even with 
 G. W. He glanced piercingly at Jimmie 
 Cheroot, but such innocence beamed from 
 the dapper little blond that Jed passed on 
 to the next. Suddenly, as he saw the shift- 
 ing, uneasy demeanour of Tappen and 
 Wright, he made a mental note of them. 
 He also determined to look up Sylvestre,
 
 Abernethy and Marston 57 
 
 because he heard that Sylvestre had gone 
 to New York to offer his survey of the pass 
 over the mountains to Lucius Bunce o>f New 
 York, the man who was ostensibly pro- 
 moting the railroad. 
 
 But notwithstanding Jed's indifference to 
 the proceedings, the option was made over 
 to the syndicate, represented by Lord Aber- 
 nethy, for $150 per share, for sixty days. 
 
 Abernethy fumbled with his gold ciga- 
 rette-case for a moment^ then said, absent- 
 mindedly : 
 
 " With your permission, gentlemen," and 
 then took out a cigarette. 
 
 Unfortunately the watch-bracelet came 
 plainly into view. 
 
 Instantly, as if having waited for an 
 opening, Marston said: 
 
 " I suppose you didn't notice that the rest 
 of us are smoking ! " 
 
 Lord Abernethy's hand trembled almost 
 imperceptibly as he replied : 
 
 " Pardon me, Mr. Marston, but I have 
 had no occasion to notice that the rest of you 
 were smoking." 
 
 The American gripped the arms of his 
 chair convulsively for a moment, but his
 
 58 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 Western idea of hospitality overrode his 
 anger at the reproof, and with an effort he 
 said: 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Abernethy, I did 
 not notice that cigars had not been passed 
 to you. Crossfuylen, damn it, am I to tell 
 you every time a gentleman comes in, to 
 offer him cigars ? " 
 
 Crossfuylen coloured angrily as he has- 
 tened to repair his omission. He had been 
 writing when his chief spoke, and as he 
 rose to obey he thrust his pen behind his 
 ear, with the habit of his clerkly days, and 
 as he proffered the cigars to the English- 
 man, the pen dropped, leaving a large splash 
 of ink on Abernethy's shirt cuff. 
 
 Marston hated accidents and awkward- 
 ness. He glared upon his unfortunate 
 henchman. 
 
 " See what you have done! " he growled. 
 " Well, Abernethy, I am sorry, but it's a 
 good thing it wasn't on the bosom, or you'd 
 have to change your whole shirt. Now all 
 you will have to do is to turn your cuffs." 
 
 " Turn my cuffs ? " repeated the English- 
 man, uncomprehendingly. " How do you 
 mean?"
 
 Abernethy and Marston 59 
 
 " Reverse them ! Turn them end for 
 end," said Marston, pulling up his coat 
 sleeve and exhibiting a surgical sort of thing 
 which held his own in place, beneath which 
 his red flannel undershirt could be plainly 
 seen. 
 
 Abernethy leaned forward to look. 
 
 " Aren't your cuffs sewed to your shirt ? " 
 he asked, in genuine surprise. " Can you 
 change one without the other ? " 
 
 " Now listen to him ! " derided the West- 
 erner. "Don't you wear detached cuffs?" 
 
 Abernethy coloured, but he realized that 
 Marston was honest. 
 
 " No, I don't," he said. " I never saw 
 any before." 
 
 " Why, don't they wear them in Eng- 
 land ? f Why, it's a Yankee trick to save 
 time and trouble." 
 
 " And washing, I should say," said Aber- 
 nethy. 
 
 " You bet ! And washing ! Honest, now, 
 didn't you ever hear of them?" 
 
 " Yes, I think I have. I think my man 
 wears them, because I've had occasion to 
 reprove him for forgetting them once or
 
 60 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 twice, but I never saw er the process 
 of reversing them, as you call it." 
 
 Marston was quite innocent of any cause 
 for offence. 
 
 As the room cleared, G. W. went into his 
 private office and beckoned to the cashier. 
 Crossfuylen had never responded to his 
 chief's command with more alacrity. Bit- 
 terness twofold rankled in his soul against 
 Abernethy. First, he had refused Mrs. 
 Crossfuylen's invitation to dinner with no 
 excuse, and second, he had been the cause 
 of his Crossfuylen's being sworn at in 
 public by Marston. G. W. was too shrewd 
 to let the public know how completely the 
 cashier was dominated by the president. 
 Crossfuylen was thin-skinned and rancor- 
 ous. He determined to discover just how 
 far G. W. intended to go with the English- 
 man, and, if possible, to add to the plan. 
 
 " We'll make it go, Crossfuylen," said 
 Marston, rubbing his hands. " I shall hold 
 off Tappen and Wright by explaining my 
 plans some of them to-night." 
 
 Crossfuylen made a few rapid notes. 
 
 " By the way," said Crossfuylen, with a 
 smile parting his thin, dry lips, " allow me
 
 Abernethy and Marston 6 1 
 
 to congratulate you on the way you con- 
 trolled yourself when Lord Abernethy in- 
 sulted you about wearing reversible cuffs. 
 Said he believed his servant wore them as 
 much as to say a gentleman wouldn't and 
 right on top of your having showed him 
 yours. But you took it beauti " 
 
 " What ! " roared Marston, with a red 
 face, " was that what he meant ? Hum ! 
 Hum! Your congratulations are a little 
 previous, Crossfuylen. I don't deserve 
 them. I don't know what I could have been 
 thinking about not to have understood what 
 he was driving at, but I don't mind telling 
 you that I didn't see it at the time, at all! 
 Damn me, if I did! What do you think 
 I'd have done! But are you sure he meant 
 that?" 
 
 " Oh, sure ! " answered the cashier. " I 
 saw him give Sir Wemyss a look when he 
 said it." 
 
 " He meant it, did he? Well, that settles 
 his hash! The moment his syndicate pays 
 the money over for that trolley, I'll not only 
 not hold Tappen and Wright back any 
 longer, but I'll sick 'em on. They'll make 
 them take up that conduit, and it'll ruin
 
 62 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 them! It'll ruin Abernethy and ruin his 
 company. Abernethy doesn't know that 
 we'd have had to remove that conduit long 
 ago if I did not control the city council. 
 Well, he won't find it out for a little while 
 longer, and then it will be too late. Said 
 nobody but servants wore detached cuffs, did 
 he? Well, he'll have to do more than re- 
 verse his cuffs when he comes to dig up that 
 conduit ! Eh, Crossfuylen ? " 
 
 The cashier grinned silently, then gathered 
 up his papers and went out to where Tappen 
 and Wright were still nervously awaiting 
 him. 
 
 " Mr. Marston will see you at his house 
 to-night at eight," he said, significantly. 
 
 And it was Patricia who overheard that 
 short, but pointed conference the only 
 conference which held the key to the whole 
 of Marston's scheme at the house that 
 night. It only lasted a quarter of an hour, 
 and was so innocent in character, viewed 
 apart from its bearing upon the rest of the 
 plan, that G. W. unconsciously raised his 
 voice. 
 
 And Patricia heard it all.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 PATRICIA MARSTON 
 
 A FEW days after the scenes in the 
 foregoing chapter, Cornelia was sit- 
 ting in her room smiling to herself 
 over a visit she had just received from Syl- 
 vestre. In a way his visit had been dis- 
 appointing. The New York people, while 
 admitting that in all probability his was 
 the most practicable route over the moun- 
 tains, to Agua, the town nearest Cornelia's 
 property, had refused to buy his survey. 
 Lucius Bunce even refused to look at it at 
 first, until Sylvestre, in a burst of rage, in- 
 timated that, if the scheme were not a gi- 
 gantic fake, he would be glad at least to 
 examine it, the result of two summers' work. 
 At that Bunce consented to look into it. 
 
 Cornelia did not attach any importance 
 to this point. She argued that the thousands 
 of dollars spent in advertising in every 
 63
 
 64 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 paper from Maine to California could not 
 possibly be wasted by any sane man. If the 
 scheme to mislead the public could have been 
 done cheaply, she might have believed it, but 
 not at such great cost. 
 
 She lost herself pleasantly in a dream of 
 how she could spend the income from the 
 sum she could not fail to realize from the 
 sale of her property to the railway company, 
 and she felt infinitely wise and masculine and 
 commercial to think that she was going to 
 act as so few women would, in selling for a 
 moderate sum in cash, rather than wait to 
 develop a gold mine which would take years 
 and millions to realize on. 
 
 Sylvestre had declared that the road must 
 run through Agua, and she believed Bob 
 implicitly on a matter of business, but when 
 he invaded her realm and hazarded a guess 
 that it was Sir Wemyss Lombard who had 
 captivated Patricia Marston 
 
 A sudden sharp knock at the door made 
 her start. She had not time to answer it 
 before the door opened and Patricia Mars- 
 ton, flushed, nervous, incoherent, rushed into 
 her presence. 
 
 Patricia was beautifully gowned in gray
 
 Patricia Marston 65 
 
 velvet and chinchilla a suggestion from 
 Cornelia herself. But at the first glance 
 Cornelia knew that something was vitally 
 wrong with Patricia, for never before had 
 her appearance been so nearly distraught. 
 
 " Well, my dear," said Cornelia, tenta- 
 tively. 
 
 Patricia got up and walked to the win- 
 dow. She held her muff to her lips and 
 gazed over its gray fluff at the range of 
 distant mountains, with the outline of the 
 Holy Cross distinct before her eyes. 
 
 " I've got to tell you, but it's awful 
 work," she murmured, indistinctly. 
 
 " Put your muff down and talk so that 
 I can hear you," said Cornelia. " May I 
 give you a cup of tea? " 
 
 " A cup of tea ! " cried Patricia, explo- 
 sively. " I can't be bothered with tea to- 
 day! Oh, excuse me! But if you knew 
 but how am I going to begin without 
 being absolutely brazen ? " 
 
 Cornelia saw that something serious was 
 the matter, and forebore to disturb her. 
 
 " If I had a mother " began Patricia. 
 Then seeing Mrs. Winthrop's 'ook of sur- 
 prise, she added, " I mean one that was any
 
 66 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 I'd go to her, but mother is 
 probably reading a novel by the Duchess, 
 and wouldn't care to be annoyed." 
 
 The girl spoke bitterly, but the nervous 
 eagerness of her manner only increased. 
 
 " If you can tell me " began Cornelia. 
 
 " I've got to ! I'm simply driven to it. 
 There's no other way ! " said Patricia. " If 
 you hate me afterward, I can't help it. If 
 you are horrified at my disclosures, I shall 
 lose your friendship. But, oh, God! what 
 am I to do? " 
 
 Her voice broke into a wail and she flung 
 herself on to the couch, her whole frame 
 shaking with tearless, convulsive sobs. 
 
 Instantly, even if she had been lukewarm 
 before, Cornelia Winthrop became heart 
 and soul the friend of this untamed creature 
 of the Rockies, for suffering roused all the 
 maternal instinct in her, which had been 
 thwarted all her brief but brilliant married 
 life. 
 
 " Patricia," she said, gently, " tell me 
 everything. I'll stand by you." 
 
 Those words, although unlike Cornelia's 
 usually carefully selected sentences, were 
 just the tonic which Patricia needed. She
 
 Patricia Marston 67 
 
 sat up and looked the Eastern woman 
 squarely in the eye. She made no further 
 apology nor explanation. It was her way 
 to be direct and fearless after once commit- 
 ting herself to a line of action. 
 
 " I have discovered a vile plot against 
 Lord Abernethy," she began, colouring 
 divinely at the mention oi his name, " and 
 it will shock you more than it does me to 
 know that my father is at the bottom of it, 
 for I've never had any confidence in my 
 father's business methods, since I found out 
 about one of his deals and taxed him with it. 
 When I discovered this and asked him about 
 it, he admitted it, didn't seem to know that 
 it was dishonourable, didn't care when I told 
 him, and refused to pull out when I begged 
 him, so it's up to me now to beat him at 
 his own game. I can't call him off. He 
 wouldn't listen." 
 
 Although Cornelia carefully concealed 
 any horror she might feel at Patricia's 
 words, the girl herself seemed instinctively 
 to realize that she must explain. Her bril- 
 liant sense of humour came to her rescue 
 and saved her from becoming tragic. She 
 gave a little wintry smile.
 
 68 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 " Father himself once gave the best ex- 
 planation of business here in Denver that 
 I ever heard. An old friend of his came out 
 here and father met him on the street. 
 * Have you come for your health ? ' he asked. 
 ' No,' the man answered. ' Marston, I have 
 come to Denver to try and make an honest 
 living.' ' Well/ said father, ' you have 
 struck the only line in Denver in which you 
 will have no competition ! ' 
 
 Her pale face twitched a moment with 
 appreciation, then she continued : 
 
 " Lord Abernethy's syndicate is about to 
 buy the Denver trolley system. He told me 
 so. He mentioned it when he was saying 
 how much he liked me oh, I never would 
 have dared to tell you if I hadn't heard 
 enough to make me think he cares! For 
 I care so much! I care enough to ruin my 
 father to save him! Is that wicked? / 
 don't know. I don't know right from wrong 
 as other people see it. I only know that I 
 never see but one road ahead, and that's the 
 road I travel on. It never forks for me. 
 It leads straight, and all that rot about a 
 daughter's duty to her father may go to
 
 Patricia Marston 69 
 
 the devil for all of me, if my father is bent 
 on ruining and disgracing an honest man ! " 
 
 " But would you," asked Cornelia, " if 
 you didn't love the man ? " 
 
 " No," she said, decidedly. " I wouldn't 
 bother. I'm not here to reform twentieth 
 century business methods. Let other people 
 take care of themselves. I am here with you 
 to-day to protect Abernethy. Tell me one 
 thing you know the world. He hasn't 
 proposed to me. He has only said he cared. 
 He wouldn't deceive me, would he, just for 
 the fun of it ? " 
 
 " Indeed he would not ! " said Cornelia, 
 earnestly, striving to allay the baleful light 
 which for a moment blazed from Patricia's 
 eyes. 
 
 " Because I'd kill him, if he did," said the 
 girl in gray velvet, simply. 
 
 Cornelia's conventional self gasped. 
 Then her pagan self that side of her 
 which had impelled her to come West 
 asserted itself, and her soul linked itself to 
 Patricia's. At that moment, she felt that 
 she approved of Patricia. Nay, she would 
 even help, if help were needed. 
 
 " Night before last two men called on
 
 JO The Interference of Patricia 
 
 father. Their names are Tappen and 
 Wright. They are councilmen, and father 
 owns them body and soul, but it is near 
 election time and they must do certain 
 things. Now, public opinion demands that 
 the underground conduit, which should have 
 been taken up when the cable was made into 
 a trolley, but which father refused to do, 
 must b'e taken up now. It will be ruinously 
 expensive, so father wants to sell the trolley 
 first, and then let the city council do as it 
 pleases. Of course he would just as soon 
 sell his stock, but of course nobody will 
 buy, because everybody here knows what 
 must be done. He controls the newspapers, 
 so you never hear anything about it. Aber- 
 nethy's only chance is to have somebody tell 
 him about it, but so few know that he is 
 the purchaser, and those who know are all 
 stockholders and as anxious to sell as father 
 is." 
 
 " Tell him yourself," cried Cornelia. 
 
 "I couldn't," said Patricia. "I simply 
 couldn't. I thought of that. I have thought 
 of everything. But it would look so brazen 
 so immodest I thought perhaps you 
 could suggest something "
 
 Patricia Marston 71 
 
 She broke off suddenly, for Cornelia had 
 risen abruptly and walked to the window. 
 She saw her own ruined prospects stare her 
 in the face. She began to piece bits of in- 
 formation together. Sylvestre had told her 
 that the trolley was to be used as part of the 
 new railroad which was to run through her 
 property. She had never heard of the 
 abandoned conduit, nor had Bob. They 
 were new people in Denver. So was Aber- 
 nethy. And the newspapers were occupied 
 with fresher news. If the railroad did not 
 succeed in obtaining a right of way through 
 Denver, it would not run to Agua. If 
 Abernethy were not warned, the English 
 syndicate would buy the trolley, and resell 
 it to the railroad. But Patricia's marriage 
 would never take place. Abernethy would 
 never marry the daughter of the man who 
 had disgraced him in the eyes of his peers. 
 
 It cut like a knife, in the face of her bitter 
 disappointment, at what she thought 
 would delay, if not postpone altogether, the 
 sale of her mine, to be obliged to face the 
 situation and decide to help Patricia. For 
 a moment she almost hated the girl for 
 bringing the information to her. She hated
 
 72 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 herself for taking Patricia up. Bob warned 
 her not to. This was the result. But that 
 would not aid nor hinder the fraud of the 
 trolley scheme. Patricia moved uneasily in 
 her chair, and Cornelia turned to look at 
 her. The girl's wide eyes held a look of 
 appeal, yet in their depths was an expres- 
 sion of fearlessness and a bravery which 
 brought Cornelia back to her better self. 
 Patricia rose to her feet, uncertain how to 
 translate Cornelia's silence. She stood so 
 alone, practically motherless and fatherless, 
 yet with her instinct for the true and right, 
 and with those eyes! 
 
 Cornelia decided. But her decision drew 
 blood. She forgot to take any intermediate 
 steps. 
 
 " I have decided how to bring you out," 
 she began, too full of her own sacrifice to 
 choose her words. 
 
 Patricia started. 
 
 "Into society?" she asked, in astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 "Yes," answered Cornelia. 
 
 Patricia walked toward the door. 
 
 "Good-bye, Mrs. Winthrop," she said, 
 with flashing eyes. "I came to ask your
 
 Patricia Marston 73 
 
 help in a matter which means life or death 
 to me. I trusted you with my secret. And 
 you talk to me about my debut into 
 society ! " 
 
 " Patricia ! " cried Cornelia. " Don't fly 
 off in that manner! Listen to me. It is 
 part of my plan." 
 
 But the shock to Patricia's nerves had 
 been too great. She stood, with her hand on 
 the knob, looking doubtfully at her friend. 
 
 " This is my plan for warning Lord 
 Abernethy. You know that Mrs. Lowe's 
 bazar in aid of the hospital has almost been 
 abandoned. It was to have been held at the 
 governor's house, but Governor Coolidge's 
 illness has put an end to everything. They 
 have been working six months on it, but not 
 a house in town is large enough except 
 yours. Strangely enough, your house was 
 not even mentioned in canvassing possibili- 
 ties. It is thrown open so seldom, I suppose 
 they never thought of it." 
 
 Patricia coloured hotly. She well knew 
 that was not the reason Mrs. Lowe had not 
 suggested it. The Marstons were not con- 
 sidered at all in any capacity unless for 
 subscriptions! She wondered if even Mrs.
 
 74 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 Winthrop's influence were strong enough 
 to secure an acceptance of it, if she should 
 offer it. But her faith in Cornelia's influ- 
 ence was great. 
 
 " Perhaps your mother may object," Cor- 
 nelia went on, " but you must persuade her 
 to do it. Then you must slip away from the 
 flower-table, which I had planned to get 
 for you, and disguise yourself as a gipsy 
 fortune-teller. I will see to it that Abernethy 
 goes to you to have his palm read, and 
 you can then warn him about the abandoned 
 conduit." 
 
 Patricia was only a woman, and her head 
 swam with the brilliance and magnitude of 
 the plan. She knew that she could manage 
 her mother. And to think of having Mrs. 
 Lowe, Mrs. De Lancy, Mrs. O'Toole, and 
 Mrs. Charnley, the leaders of Denver society, 
 familiarly in her house, discussing things, 
 driving up informally mornings, telephoning 
 her in short, that she was at one bound to 
 be one of them thrilled her quite as de- 
 lightfully as the fact that at the same time she 
 would rescue her lover from danger and dis- 
 grace. Patricia was only human, and she was 
 young. A tremendous capacity for heroism
 
 Patricia Marston 75 
 
 was closely interwoven with a truly femi- 
 nine vanity. It made her very nice to know. 
 
 " Is that as good a way to get into society 
 as a ball, or something of that kind ? " asked 
 Patricia, with an idea buzzing in her mind 
 worthy of G. W. himself. 
 
 " Much better," answered Cornelia. 
 " There is nothing like charity for covering 
 a multitude of sins ! " 
 
 Cornelia had only intended to be witty, 
 but she was appalled at the look which 
 crossed Patricia's face. Too well the West- 
 ern girl understood the neglect with which 
 her mother had been treated. In this case, 
 however, she intended to make assurance 
 doubly sure. 
 
 " The hospital looks lopsided with only 
 one wing. Why don't they build the 
 other?" 
 
 " They haven't the money. It is their 
 cherished plan, however, to build it some- 
 time. This bazar is to furnish what they 
 have already built." 
 
 " Would it make a person very popular to 
 build that other wing, now ? " asked Patricia. 
 
 Cornelia looked at her. Then she leaned 
 forward and touched Patricia's knee.
 
 76 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 " Do you mean that ? Patricia Marston ! 
 Could you manage to do that ? " 
 
 "Certainly I could." 
 
 There was a little justifiable pride in her 
 voice. Involuntarily she bit her lip and ran 
 her finger under the edge of her veil. After 
 all, it was not so bad to have nothing but 
 money. It made even Mrs. Winthrop sit 
 up to know Patricia's power in that direc- 
 tion. Patricia cleared her throat in a pleased 
 way and smoothed her muff complacently. 
 
 " That will make the whole thing more 
 than simple. It will make it easy. I will 
 call on Mrs. Lowe to-day." 
 
 Patricia rose to go. 
 
 " Will your mother consent to have the 
 bazar?" asked Cornelia. 
 
 !( You may have the house at any time you 
 choose," Patricia replied. 
 
 It was the American girl's answer.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 HOW PATRICIA PREPARED FOR HER PART 
 
 DENVER experienced something of 
 a shock when it was learned that 
 the Marston house was to be the 
 scene of Mrs. Lowe's fair for the hospital. 
 But as excitement of any sort is welcome 
 in Denver (owing to the altitude), and as 
 Mrs. Lowe and her three sisters represented 
 the strongest social element in town, it soon 
 came to be taken as a matter of course. 
 
 No little enthusiasm, however, grew in 
 the minds of the promoters of the bazar, 
 when they saw what a magician Patricia 
 proved. Conveniences arose as if by magic. 
 Servants were in profusion. Her carriages 
 and horses were at the disposal of the com- 
 mittee day and night. Electricians wired 
 and rewired the house and grounds and con- 
 servatories. Car-loads of flowers were 
 77
 
 78 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 ordered. Such profusion and magnificence 
 were unknown. 
 
 Meantime, although the time was short, 
 three persons had not been idle. Patricia 
 herself, Cornelia, and Jed Brown were all 
 working for the same end, the two women 
 ignorant of their man ally. Patricia and 
 Cornelia were gathering all the information 
 possible for Patricia's part as fortune-teller. 
 Jed Brown was groping for a plan to ruin 
 G. W. 
 
 Patricia's instinct somehow told her to 
 question Mrs. Jimmie Cheroot, and she 
 came out from her interview with flames 
 of colour in her cheeks. Sundry adroit 
 questionings secured from her father suffi- 
 cient information to cause her to clap her 
 hands with delight. A few more such suc- 
 cesses and she would have the threads of 
 destiny in her hands for half the people 
 in Denver. She checked the names off on 
 her fingers. Cornelia must see to it that 
 Jed Brown, Jimmie Cheroot, and Abernethy 
 must come to her booth to have their palms 
 read. 
 
 During all this time G. W., too, was in 
 his element. He began to think that mov-
 
 How Patricia Prepared 79 
 
 ing in the best society was more exciting 
 than making money. It flattered his vanity 
 to be consulted by such women as Mrs. 
 Lowe and her sisters. He gave Patricia 
 her cheque to build a wing to the hospital 
 with a twinkle of delight in his eye. 
 
 " Patrichy's the stuff," he said to him- 
 self over and over as he viewed the disorder 
 and chaos of his house. 
 
 " Trust that girl of mine to get what 
 she wants," and he let his mind wander hap- 
 pily to the time when the Englishman who 
 could stand up under a quart of whiskey 
 should be safely shelved as Patricia's hus- 
 band and his son-in-law. 
 
 The younger set were not slow to see 
 in Patricia a new and valuable addition to 
 their circle. They viewed her possibilities 
 in a flash and opened their arms. The girl 
 accepted their advances with proud humility, 
 but saw to it that she gave them value re- 
 ceived for whatever they did for her. 
 
 Every morning now, she, too, was in- 
 cluded in the little group which made a daily 
 showing at Showalter's drug store on Six- 
 teenth Street, where the soda-water was 
 the best, and where, around its marble
 
 8o The Interference of Patricia 
 
 counters, it was the fashion to congregate. 
 Everybody, in passing, looked in at Sho- 
 walter's to see who was there. It was like 
 the market in Washington. One held little 
 receptions there, and the sayings of the 
 negro Charlie, who drew the soda-water, 
 were not least of the attractions. To one 
 who said : 
 
 "Well, Showalter's is getting to be a 
 regular rendezvous," Charlie said, in indig- 
 nant remonstrance: 
 
 " Dat's right ! Mek use ob a place en 
 den call it names ! " 
 
 But much as Patricia enjoyed what these 
 hurried days brought her, the real interest 
 in her life lay in the part she intended to 
 play as fortune-teller. After it was all over, 
 several thought she must possess second 
 sight or have a gift for mind-reading, but 
 they little knew what a clever woman, 
 whose lover was in danger, could do, when 
 she had pitted herself against men who were 
 unsuspicious and susceptible to the flattery 
 of a pretty girl. As an example, it will 
 be seen how easy it was for her to gain ma- 
 terial, when she discovered from an idle 
 boast of her father's that he had neatly
 
 How Patricia Prepared 8 1 
 
 " done " Jed Brown out of thousands by 
 taking up his option on Jed's stock at $125, 
 when he had a purchaser in Abernethy at 
 $150. Patricia's quick mind flew at once 
 to the conclusion that Jed's desire for re- 
 venge might be useful to her. 
 
 But the day before the bazar was to open, 
 Sylvestre nearly upset the whole affair by 
 mentioning to Patricia that the new railroad 
 was to run through Cornelia's property 
 and make her rich. 
 
 It was fortunate that Sylvestre was a 
 trifle stupid regarding women, as has been 
 indicated, otherwise he would have seen 
 how white Patricia grew and how suddenly 
 she sank into a chair. 
 
 " What makes you think so ? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh, it's bound to. I only mentioned 
 it to you because you like her so much. 
 I knew you would be glad. It isn't in you 
 to be envious." 
 
 But Patricia did not even hear the com- 
 pliment the first he had ever paid her. 
 Her mind flew back to the day of her in- 
 terview with Cornelia when she asked her 
 to help her warn Abernethy. Patricia saw 
 it all. She realized the shock which must
 
 82 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 have come to Cornelia when she saw that 
 her hopes had been built on sand, and the 
 girl's heart suddenly overflowed in passion- 
 ate gratitude to the woman who had so 
 nobly put her own disappointment in the 
 background, and had at once flung herself 
 into a plan to aid Patricia and Abernethy. 
 
 Patricia leaned her head on her arm for 
 a moment. 
 
 "Tired?" asked Sylvestre. 
 
 "Very!" 
 
 " Better have a cup of tea," said Syl- 
 vestre. " There's nothing which sets my 
 mother up like a cup of " 
 
 " I thought Mrs. Winthrop's property 
 was a gold mine," interrupted Patricia. 
 
 " It is, and the biggest one in the State. 
 It's too big for her to handle. It is abso- 
 lutely what is called a rich man's mine, so, 
 while in ten or fifteen years she might find 
 people to take it up, the railroad will pay 
 a good round sum in cash and stock to her 
 now, and she is just sensible enough to see 
 it." 
 
 " But the railroad," insisted Patricia. 
 " What makes you think it will run through 
 her property ? "
 
 ^ 
 
 How Patricia Prepared 83 
 
 " It's got to if it goes at all," answered 
 Sylvestre. " I have spent two summers 
 making an exhaustive survey of the route. 
 Last week I took it to New York and left 
 it with the promoters." 
 
 " Did they examine it ? Did they accept 
 it?" asked Patricia, eagerly. 
 
 Sylvestre looked at her with suspicion. 
 
 " Excuse me for asking. But I am so 
 interested for for Cornelia's sake," 
 said Patricia. 
 
 "Oh, I see! Well, they wouldn't look 
 at it at first. In fact, although I brought a 
 letter from one of his best friends, old 
 Bunce Lucius, I mean, the New York 
 one wouldn't even see me. But I in- 
 sisted, and when I saw him he wouldn't 
 even look at my survey said they had 
 their own engineers. That made me pretty 
 hot, so I told him that what was it I 
 said? Oh, that unless the whole thing was 
 a fake, he ought to give me a chance." 
 
 " You said that to Lucius Bunce? " cried 
 Patricia. 
 
 "I did just that! Nervy, wasn't it? 
 But my fighting blood was up. He gave 
 me a sharp look, but took my papers and
 
 84 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 blue-prints, and said it should have his 
 personal attention and that I should hear 
 from him." 
 
 " Have you heard ? " asked Patricia. 
 
 "Not yet. I haven't had time. But I 
 know that he will be obliged to take my 
 plans, for it includes Jed Brown's road 
 ten miles only, to be sure, but still ten miles 
 of good road is not to be ignored." 
 
 " Does Mr. Brown know that your sur- 
 vey includes his road ? " asked Patricia. 
 
 " Oh, yes. I told him, of course. He 
 just laughed and said the railroad would 
 come after him quickly enough if they 
 wanted it." 
 
 Patricia got up and walked around aim- 
 lessly for awhile. They were in the con- 
 servatory, and servants were serving tea 
 for the tired committee, who flitted in and 
 out without paying much attention to the 
 two who were talking so quietly behind 
 the palms. 
 
 Suddenly Patricia came close to Sylves- 
 tre. She held a fold of a heavy curtain 
 she was measuring nervously in her hand, 
 and she spoke excitedly. 
 
 " What do you know of mines ? Is Cor-
 
 How Patricia Prepared 85 
 
 nelia's really a valuable one? You know 
 I don't give that for the best mining prop- 
 osition on earth ! " 
 
 " But your father has made millions in 
 them," said Sylvestre. 
 
 " Yes, but never until somebody else had 
 prospected. Dad never risked a penny on a 
 theory. He has men on the lookout all the 
 time for a good thing in the hands of poor 
 men. Then when they need more money, 
 father advances it to them and takes stock 
 as security. Soon they get to a tight place, 
 or discouraged or something, when father 
 very reluctantly takes over the mine, works 
 it, and gets, for almost nothing, all their 
 toil and hardship and experience. That's 
 how father mines ! Oh, / know him ! " 
 
 " Well, Cornelia's has been opened up, 
 and twenty, perhaps thirty or forty, thou- 
 sand dollars sunk in it already. I've been 
 over the ground carefully and know what 
 is there, but it is too far away; there is no 
 railroad nearer than Jed's, which heads 
 toward Agua, and the veins are deep and 
 inaccessible to all but the most expensive 
 machinery. If I could only have got hold 
 of Abernethy before he tied himself up
 
 86 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 with the trolley of course you won't 
 agree with me there, for your father will 
 sell his property instead of Mrs. Winthrop 
 and myself! but I only learned a day or 
 two ago that his syndicate instructed him 
 to buy mining property if possible, and only 
 yielded their consent to the trolley on his 
 representations of the quick turn he could 
 make with the railroad. But it's no good 
 crying over spilled milk. I sha'n't see such 
 a chance as that again for ten years. Why, 
 whatever is the matter ? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing," cried Patricia, " but I do 
 think that you and Mrs. Winthrop are the 
 very best friends I ever had. I hope that 
 some day I can make you both as happy as 
 you have made me ! " 
 
 As she flew out of the room Sylvestre 
 looked after her thoughtfully. 
 
 " She's more like a cyclone than a 
 woman. She's a nice little thing, but I 
 wouldn't live in the same house with her 
 for a fortune. She lacks continuity."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE FORTUNE - TELLER'S BOOTH 
 
 ON the night of the bazar, all Denver 
 made it a point to go. Some went 
 because they were friends of Mrs. 
 Lowe and her committee; others because 
 they wanted to see the Marstons' house; 
 others because there was nothing else in 
 town to go to. A few went because they 
 were interested in the hospital. Fortunately 
 an admittance fee was charged, so that the 
 hospital profited by all these motives. 
 
 As is usual with bazars, some old feuds 
 were healed and some new jealousies be- 
 gun. Charity is a large word. It excuses 
 everything. Women do things under its 
 broad name which no other power could 
 excuse them for doing. They make conces- 
 sions or go to extremes, always protected 
 by its elastic mantle. It seems to be a cap- 
 8?
 
 88 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 ital way for compressed natures to let off 
 steam. 
 
 But no one could deny that this bazar 
 was a success. Marston had cause to be 
 proud of himself. He strolled through the 
 brilliantly lighted rooms, heavy with the 
 fragrance of costly flowers and murmuring 
 with the silken rustle of women's robes, 
 self-satisfied and complacent as he never 
 had been before. Only once was his seren- 
 ity disturbed. His hands were behind his 
 back and his head thrust forward on his 
 chest, when on a long rug which lay 
 through a narrow corridor he met Jed 
 Brown walking in the same manner, with 
 his hands behind him and his chin resting 
 on his shirt-front. 
 
 Both men looked at each other and in- 
 voluntarily backed off the rug as if they had 
 stepped on a snake. They walked around 
 it with their little red eyes on each other 
 like two bulldogs. Neither spoke. For 
 the first time a dirty trick had caused a cool- 
 ness between them. Marston vaguely won- 
 dered why. He had played so many other 
 and dirtier tricks on Jed Brown without
 
 y The Fortune - Teller's Booth 89 
 
 his getting mad, it seemed queer to see the 
 old man angry at this one. 
 
 In the flower booth, radiant in pink silk, 
 with a string of pearls around her neck, 
 with her shining hair piled high on her 
 head and pushed forward in the prevailing 
 fashion, Patricia sold blossoms at fabulous 
 prices. She was becoming undeniably pop- 
 ular. She was being approved of by her 
 small world, and the success of it flushed 
 her cheeks and shone starry in her eyes. 
 Cornelia, brilliant in dead black, which set 
 off the radiance of her glorious red hair, 
 occasionally approached and whispered 
 some private information about some one 
 into Patricia's ear. 
 
 Then when the flowers were all sold out, 
 as care had been taken that they should 
 be early, Patricia mingled with the crowd 
 for half an hour and suddenly disappeared. 
 
 Soon afterward a gipsy hag, with black 
 hair braided in small braids tightly all over 
 her head, with swarthy skin and darkened 
 teeth, clad in red calico, with coins in her 
 ears and dangling from her breast and in 
 her hair, with her slim brown hands cov- 
 ered with curious cheap silver rings,
 
 9 
 
 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 squatted on a divan between two heavy 
 red curtains, while dull blue flames from 
 antique lamps threw a weird light upon her, 
 distorting her features and adding mystery 
 to the scene. 
 
 Gently rocking herself to and fro, she 
 shuffled and dealt the cards, not even rais- 
 ing her eyes when the curious parted the 
 curtains and paused to gaze upon her. She 
 sang softly to herself a wild, unrhythmic 
 song with wholly unintelligible words. 
 
 A young man entered and asked her to 
 tell his fortune. He was impertinent and 
 inclined to take liberties. The gipsy told 
 his fortune, and he left her booth, pale and 
 trembling, nor would he tell what she had 
 said. 
 
 A school friend came next, a girl who 
 had done Patricia a great wrong. The 
 gipsy told her fortune and the girl left 
 the booth in tears. 
 
 Others followed. Some were pleased 
 and laughed, albeit somewhat nervously. 
 Others were plainly frightened. 
 
 Suddenly, to Patricia's horror, her father 
 entered. 
 
 "What fool nonsense is this? My good
 
 *The Fortune - Teller's Booth 91 
 
 woman, this is a private house. Don't you 
 know I can't have a professional here? 
 Come, you must go away. You are fright- 
 ening people with your lies ! " 
 
 "If I tell you true, may I stay? I no 
 tell you lies. Show me your hand ! " 
 
 " I'll not show you my hand. Yours are 
 dirty. You may be bringing contagion 
 into my house. Be off with you." 
 
 For reply Patricia gazed at him strangely, 
 and an expression of horror grew on her 
 face. 
 
 " Danger ! " she whispered. " Great 
 danger is on your head. I see it in the 
 air. You must be warned. Perhaps I can 
 save you ! " 
 
 The old man wavered for a moment, but 
 she seized his hand and looked at it intently. 
 
 " Go away ! " she said, pushing it from 
 her. " You are in wild danger. Enemies 
 are on your trail, but it is written that there 
 is no escape. Go. I can tell you no more. 
 Yours is a bad hand/' 
 
 "What's the matter with my hand?" 
 asked G. W., with some show of nervous- 
 ness.
 
 92 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 " It has done evil deeds. But the end is 
 near. Vengeance is on the way." 
 
 "What do you mean, you hag?" In 
 spite of himself G. W. was superstitious, 
 and he was too much of a gambler by na- 
 ture not to believe in omens. " Tell me 
 what you see, but if you lie to me, I'll throw 
 you out of the house with those same bad 
 hands of mine." 
 
 Patricia grinned, disclosing darkened 
 teeth. 
 
 " Pay," she said. 
 
 G. W. handed her a silver dollar. She 
 flung it back at him. 
 
 " Pay five of those ten for what I 
 have to say ! " she said, contemptuously. 
 
 " Well, you've got your nerve with you ! " 
 he said. " You make me pay ten dollars 
 to hear bad news. And in my own house, 
 too!" 
 
 "This your house?" said the gipsy, 
 eagerly, as she took the money. " It will 
 not be yours long. You will lose it. You 
 will lose your money. You will lose your 
 friends. There are two tracks shining 
 tracks of steel which are leading you 
 down, down to destruction. A great gulf
 
 The Fortune - Teller's Booth 93 
 
 lies at the end. You have planned to push 
 others down this track. It is written that 
 you finish there yourself instead." 
 
 The gipsy paused. G. W.'s face was 
 beaded in sweat. To tell the truth, although 
 everything looked safe, he never had felt 
 sure that this deal would go through. 
 Never before had he possessed so little 
 power over the right men. Never had he 
 been so nearly in the power of those who 
 could ruin him by a false move. 
 
 "Do you see any more?" he asked, 
 hoarsely. 
 
 " Yes ; two men. One light, with blue 
 eyes and red in his cheeks. He is not of 
 this land. The other, heavier, darker, 
 older, your bitter enemy. They stand on 
 the bank and watch you sinking into the 
 black water. They laugh, for it is what you 
 planned for them ! " 
 
 " Jed and Abernethy ! " burst uncon- 
 sciously from G. W.'s pale lips. 
 
 He made an effort to pull himself to- 
 gether. He did not wholly believe in the 
 gipsy, yet her prophecy was disquieting. 
 
 " Is there no way out ? " he demanded.
 
 94 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 Patricia consulted the cards. Marston 
 watched her impatiently. 
 
 " Stop that damned fooling ! " he cried. 
 " You don't see anything in a pack of cards. 
 You get it somewhere else. Look in my 
 hand look over my head. Tell me what 
 you see." 
 
 But Patricia was at her wit's end. She 
 took refuge in sullenness. 
 
 " You no believe in my cards. My eyes 
 grow blind to you. I see no more. Go 
 away." 
 
 " I'm sorry I didn't mean it," said 
 Marston. " If I come back again if I 
 pay you well, will you try again? " 
 
 " Perhaps," said Patricia. " Come again 
 in two hours. Perhaps the light will shine 
 again. In two hours." 
 
 Marston went out and made her famous. 
 He told everybody that she told the 
 damnedest things he ever heard in his life. 
 The curious, easily excited (on account of 
 the altitude) flocked to the fortune-teller's 
 booth. Marston accidentally made quite a 
 sum of money for the hospital. 
 
 In the meantime Cornelia had not been
 
 *The Fortune - Teller's Booth 95 
 
 idle. She adroitly steered those Patricia 
 wanted to see toward the gipsy booth. 
 
 Jimmie Cheroot went in, and came out 
 clenching and unclenching his hands. The 
 gipsy told him that he had tried to take 
 money from those who sold and from those 
 who bought, and that he would make from 
 neither. 
 
 " It's all rot ! " he said to himself, fiercely. 
 He did not believe in her. Nevertheless, 
 he went into the smoking-room and smoked 
 violently for an hour. Then he resolved on 
 a desperate move. He hunted up Jed 
 Brown. 
 
 " Say, Jed, you are feeling pretty sore 
 about G. W.'s taking up his option on your 
 stock, aren't you?" 
 
 " Should say I was," growled Jed. 
 " Damned, dirty, low, Irish trick. But 
 just like G. W. He got that option of me 
 when the trolley stock was only seventy- 
 two. One twenty-five looked like the mil- 
 lennium then. Well, what about it? What 
 are you grinning like a sick cat for ? " 
 
 " Nothing. Only there's a gipsy a 
 professional up-stairs who as good as 
 told me that the trolley deal was not going
 
 96 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 through. I thought maybe you would like 
 to try your luck and see if she tells you 
 anything." 
 
 "A gipsy? Oh, hell! I don't believe 
 in 'em." 
 
 "All right." 
 
 " Hold on ! Where is she and what does 
 she charge? " 
 
 " She charges five dollars. Come along. 
 I'll show you." 
 
 He led the way, and Jed went in and 
 showed his palm. 
 
 " There is some one you trust without 
 who listens. He is not true to you. Look 
 quickly ! " whispered Patricia. 
 
 Jed jumped to the door, and in doing so 
 nearly knocked Jimmie Cheroot down. 
 
 " Get out, Jimmie. Don't listen. She 
 was on to you." 
 
 The old man came back, smiling and 
 walking as usual with one hand in his 
 trousers pocket. 
 
 "It's all right. He didn't mean any 
 harm. He only wanted to hear what you 
 said to me for fun," he said. 
 
 " He wanted to hear what I said to you
 
 ' The Fortune - Teller's Booth 97 
 
 for evil," crooned the gipsy. " Beware of 
 him!" 
 
 "Nonsense!" said Brown. 
 
 " No ! " cried the gipsy, in sudden, Rom- 
 any anger. She lifted her hand and pointed 
 her finger menacingly. " Not nonsense ! 
 The gipsy sees true. His hand is there, 
 as yours is, in your pocket." 
 
 Jed stared in a bewildered way at his 
 pocket. 
 
 " His hand is there, in your pocket ! " 
 she repeated. " And in the air above your 
 head I see in figures of fire one and two 
 and five. You have lost money by him with 
 one twenty-five. Ah, ha! You start! 
 The gipsy knows! The gipsy sees! The 
 gipsy tells ! " 
 
 Jed gnawed his fingers furiously. 
 
 " It would be just like the little devil," 
 he muttered. 
 
 " See ! " cried the gipsy. " I have a great 
 fortune for you. It is worth much more 
 than five of those beautiful silver pieces. 
 It is worth ten twenty one hundred ! " 
 
 '' You won't get another cent! " growled 
 Jed. 
 
 "But see," wheedled the gipsy. "If I
 
 98 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 read revenge in your heart, and show you 
 how to get vengeance on the old man who 
 has robbed you by aid of the young man, 
 will you give me more? " 
 
 Jed snorted with passion. 
 
 " Yes ! " he shouted. " Show me how 
 and I'll give you this ! " 
 
 He dragged a thick roll of bills from 
 his pocket, and the gipsy's eyes gleamed 
 to see the figures on the outside bill. 
 
 Truly Patricia knew the gipsy nature. 
 
 She shuffled the cards, but her breath 
 came short. She was tremendously excited. 
 
 " Money ! Money ! " she muttered. 
 
 "For me?" asked Jed. 
 
 The hag nodded and all her coins jingled. 
 The lamps burned blue, and the old man 
 watched her feverishly. 
 
 " Treachery from a friend an old 
 man," she said. " You have been good 
 to him, but he repays it not. He robs you 
 for his own gain, but the stars say no. His 
 plan goes wrong. There is a tall man of 
 another nation, with a strap of leather on 
 his wrist. It tells him the hour. In two 
 days from now he expects to pay the money 
 of his friends to the old man, your enemy.
 
 'The Fortune - Teller's Booth 99 
 
 But at the last moment something happens. 
 He does not buy. I see you and him to- 
 gether and between you much, much money. 
 You go to him and he gives you vengeance." 
 
 She paused and looked at him. 
 
 " Do you understand ? " 
 
 Jed nodded. He was beyond speech. 
 
 The gipsy peered at him. 
 
 " You do not understand ! " she cried. 
 " Ask me questions. I will answer." 
 
 " I understand some of it. But how does 
 Aber the man with the leather strap on 
 his wrist give me vengeance?" 
 
 The gipsy shook her head and shuffled 
 the cards again. 
 
 " There is a woman with red hair. 
 There is a tall, dark man. They do not 
 live here. They come from far to sell 
 to sell gold, but the gold is in the ground. 
 The man with the leather strap on his 
 wrist buys. He comes to you and says, 
 ' Carry my gold for me on your steel rails. 
 I do not buy of the other old man. I buy 
 of you and her and him.' ' 
 
 " By Jove ! By the Lord Harry ! Here, 
 woman! You may be the damnedest liar 
 on the top of God's footstool, but you've
 
 loo The Interference of Patricia 
 
 given me an idea which will make me mil- 
 lions. Here, take the money, you've earned 
 it. Lemme out of here." 
 
 " Wait ! " cried the gipsy. " You must 
 dream three nights over what I have told. 
 If you speak to-night it will not come true." 
 
 " Three nights ! " stammered Jed. " Gee ! 
 I can scarcely wait to get hold of my man." 
 
 " Three nights must you dream over it, 
 with this charm held in your hand while you 
 fall asleep." She detached a coin from her 
 neck. " In the morning mark well where 
 the coin lies, for so will your plans go 
 now up, now down, but always, if you obey 
 me, will they come true ! " 
 
 The old man was furiously impatient, 
 but Patricia knew enough of the gambler's 
 nature, the superstitious side of those who 
 deal in stocks and all ventures which de- 
 pend upon fluctuations of the market, to 
 know that even sailors are not more de- 
 pendent on signs of good and bad luck. 
 Her father never rode on a ticket numbered 
 thirteen; nor started anywhere on Friday; 
 nor opened an umbrella in the house; nor 
 walked under a ladder. And on any large
 
 The Fortune - Teller's Booth 101 
 
 venture he always consulted a fortune- 
 teller. 
 
 Patricia knew, therefore, that Jed would 
 not dare to speak before the three days were 
 up. On the second, the money was to be 
 paid over by Abernethy for the syndicate 
 for the purchase of the trolley. 
 
 As Jed came out of the thick, hot atmos- 
 phere of the gipsy's booth, a wave of reason 
 and common sense swept over him. 
 
 " What an old fool I am to believe her ! " 
 he muttered in the depths of his ragged 
 beard. " But then, how in hell does she 
 know so much? And suppose Abernethy 
 does hear of the conduit? Suppose by 
 Jove! Suppose she tells him! She won't 
 let me speak to him for three days, but I'm 
 damned if I don't watch to see his face 
 when he comes out of there ! " 
 
 G. W. also hung around the booth watch- 
 ing those who came out. He and Jed 
 avoided each other's eye. 
 
 Sir Wemyss Lombard, who heartily dis- 
 believed, but only went because Cornelia 
 made a point of it on behalf of the hospital, 
 returned dragging at his moustache. Mars- 
 ton approached him:
 
 IO2 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 " Well, what did she say to you ? " 
 
 " Most extraordinary," muttered Sir 
 Wemyss. " She told me about my fiancee, 
 Lady Mary Goddard, and I've never men- 
 tioned her to a soul but Mrs. Winthrop." 
 
 " Your fiancee ! " exclaimed G. W. " Are 
 you engaged, then ? " 
 
 " Most certainly. Ever since last week. 
 She's a ripping girl. Rides as well as your 
 daughter. Beautiful figger, too." 
 
 G. W. took out his handkerchief and 
 wiped his forehead. Then he turned on his 
 heel and walked away without speaking. 
 His hands were clasped behind his back 
 and his head bent forward. The English- 
 man screwed his glass into his eye and 
 watched him. 
 
 " Most extraordinary man," he muttered, 
 " not to congratulate a chap when he says 
 he's engaged! Nor even to offer him a 
 drink. Deuced queer, I must say ! " 
 
 Cornelia parted the curtains behind Pa- 
 tricia and whispered: 
 
 " What shall I do? Abernethy swears 
 he won't come. He says it's such awful rot. 
 He's been asking for you." 
 
 "Tell him I've had mine told, and the
 
 Fortune - Teller's Booth 103 
 
 gipsy told me about the man who loves me 
 best. Tell him I begged him just for fun 
 to have his told and see if she can describe 
 his sweetheart. If he asks about me any 
 more, tell him I'm having a rent sewed up 
 in my dress (that's the truth), and that I'll 
 be down in fifteen minutes." 
 
 " I'll try it," whispered Cornelia. 
 
 " But make him hurry, for father is to 
 come back in half an hour, and I must be 
 gone before he comes. Here, take all this 
 money. I may have to fly." 
 
 When, a few moments later, the curtains 
 at the entrance were parted, and Lord Aber- 
 nethy entered, Patricia felt that her time 
 had come. She trembled in every limb. 
 All her former insouciance was gone. She 
 feared discovery. She feared to sink in 
 his esteem. For one wild moment the im- 
 pulse was upon her to turn and flee. But 
 as she shuffled the cards and rocked and 
 crooned, she saw that he was not in the 
 least suspicious, and her courage returned. 
 This was her supreme hour. This was 
 what she had planned and agonized to do. 
 This moment, as far as Patricia Marston
 
 IO4 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 was concerned, was the reason for the whole 
 bazar. 
 
 She would not touch his hand with hers 
 for fear of their trembling. She traced the 
 lines in his palm with a curious old stylus 
 with a turquoise in the handle. 
 
 "Why do you sigh, good mother?" 
 asked Abernethy. He knew the gipsy 
 formulas, from Henley week and the races 
 at Goodwood and Epsom Downs. He had 
 talked to scores of them. 
 
 " Because there is so much to see and so 
 much to tell," murmured Patricia. 
 
 Abernethy smiled and handed her a gold 
 piece. 
 
 Involuntarily Patricia drew back. Aber- 
 nethy looked surprised, and for a moment 
 the situation trembled in the balance. Then 
 she recovered herself. 
 
 " Thank you, my pretty gentleman," she 
 said. " You will have a rich wife. She will 
 bring you many such." 
 
 The gipsy's eyes looked keenly into his. 
 
 " That gives me no pleasure, goodwife," 
 he said. "Tell me if I shall win her. 
 What is she like?"
 
 *The Fortune - Teller's Booth 105 
 
 It seemed to Abernethy that the gipsy's 
 lips trembled. 
 
 " Her face is fair enough, but to a gen- 
 tleman like yourself, it will be welcome to 
 know that she loves you rarely, that she 
 would do anything to save you from the 
 danger which threatens." 
 
 " Am I in any danger ? " said Abernethy, 
 with a smile. 
 
 " Your greatest danger, pretty gentle- 
 man, is from thinking too well of yourself." 
 
 "Well, I like that!" said the English- 
 man, stroking his moustache. 
 
 " The gipsy wastes no more fine words 
 with you. Believe, or I tell no more." 
 
 " I believe you ! Go on, my good 
 woman." 
 
 " You are not of this land. You do not 
 know the men here, nor their ways. Once 
 you have been warned, but you laughed. 
 To-night the gipsy warns you again. You 
 mock. In two days more it will be too 
 late." 
 
 A gleam of interest came into the Eng- 
 lishman's bored face. 
 
 " In two days more. What will happen 
 then?"
 
 io6 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 " You are to pay much money to the old 
 man the old man who owns all this ; but 
 if you do, you are lost. Disgrace waits for 
 you at home. Dishonour here. No more 
 will men trust you with their money, for 
 the money you are to pay is not yours." 
 
 Abernethy started and looked keenly at 
 Patricia. But the fever and excitement of 
 it were in her blood and she gave no heed. 
 She waved her hand at him for silence, and 
 he motioned her to proceed. 
 
 " I see two long, shining rails. Things 
 whiz by on them. Sparks fly overhead. 
 Bells clang. Women scream. Danger 
 lurks in them. But not to you. Your 
 danger lies in the long, cold grave beneath. 
 The power to make cars fly once lay there. 
 It is forgotten now. But when you have 
 paid the money the money of your 
 friends it will be remembered. Mark well 
 the gipsy's words. It will be remembered ! 
 For it should not be there ! " 
 
 In spite of himself, against his strong 
 will and bulldog determination not to be 
 taken in, Abernethy dared not interrupt. 
 Drops of perspiration stood on his brow. 
 Patricia saw them.
 
 The Fortune - Teller's Booth 107 
 
 " There is no money there for any 
 man. The old man knows this. He sends 
 to you, who are a stranger, a young man, 
 light of skin and glib of tongue. He makes 
 you feel that he has brought a fortune to 
 you. Do not trust him. He was sent by 
 the old man ! " 
 
 Abernethy let out just one word a bad 
 one. 
 
 " Together they plan your ruin. All 
 their words are idle. You buy, but you can 
 never sell. The old man lays a trap. He 
 puts it before men's eyes. They read it 
 in large letters. It is all a lie, a lie cun- 
 ningly planned, by an old man in the moun- 
 tains and an old man by the sea." 
 
 " No railroad ! " exclaimed Abernethy, 
 involuntarily. Then he pulled himself to- 
 gether and smiled. The gipsy was dramatic, 
 but he was not going to be flimflammed 
 not. he! 
 
 " The gipsy speaks true. But listen. 
 There is more. Three days from now an 
 old man will come to you and tell you of 
 gold in the ground. It is there. Buy. For 
 your friends. For yourself. Honour and 
 riches are in the ground. A woman with
 
 io8 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 red hair, the colour of the sun god when 
 he sets, owns it. She will tell you true. 
 The young man will build machinery and 
 dig out the gold. The old man will carry 
 it on his steel rails. But pay no money in 
 two days. It is Friday and the thirteenth." 
 
 In spite of himself, Abernethy felt a 
 quiver of fear. 
 
 " How can I prove this ? " he asked. 
 
 " Tell my words to the dark young man, 
 the lover of the woman with the gold hair. 
 His business is to dig and measure. He 
 will prove it to you." 
 
 The gipsy dropped her face forward in 
 her hands. 
 
 " Go," she muttered. " I see no more." 
 
 She was rocking herself to and fro. 
 Abernethy rose and tossed an additional 
 coin into her lap. 
 
 " Stop ! " she whispered. " The old man 
 waits to see your face and to question you. 
 Avoid him. Go out this door. Do not 
 talk to him to-night. A girl in pink is 
 waiting for you down-stairs by an open 
 door between two windows. Seek her." 
 
 Abernethy, who was in no mood to see 
 Marston or Jed, obeyed the gipsy and
 
 
 
 The Fortune - Teller's Booth 109 
 
 pushed through the curtains behind her. 
 Patricia listened until his footsteps died 
 away, then sprang up and followed him, 
 intending to gain her own room. But at 
 the door she found herself gripped by two 
 strong hands. With a repressed scream 
 she looked up to see Abernethy's stern blue 
 eyes on her face. 
 
 " You are no gipsy, woman," he said, 
 sternly. " Who are you, to know the se- 
 crets of every man in this manner? Tell 
 me your name, or I will call the mistress 
 of this house." 
 
 " It is true that I am no gipsy," said 
 Patricia. " But I know these things, and 
 I have warned you out of friendship. If 
 you are a gentleman, you will release me." 
 
 Abernethy released her and stepped back. 
 Patricia flew, rather than ran, and when 
 he came through the drawing-rooms, 
 twenty minutes later, Patricia, in pink, 
 was waiting for him beside an open door 
 between two windows.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 AT THE DENVER CLUB 
 
 LATER that night at the Denver Club 
 little was discussed except the bril- 
 liance of Mrs. Lowe's bazar, and 
 the skill of the fortune-teller. Some con- 
 tended that she was a lady, made up as a 
 gipsy, others that she was a professional. 
 
 " You needn't tell me," said Jed Brown. 
 " She was a regular gipsy with the best gift 
 of second sight I ever saw. I've tried 'em 
 all. I've been to that famous one in Louis- 
 ville I went down from New York on 
 purpose. I've been to all those mediums 
 in Chicago over on the West Side. I've 
 been to the best ones everywhere, and I 
 tell you this one lays over every other one 
 I ever saw. You can make all the fun you 
 want, but you'll see old Jed Brown follow- 
 ing her advice to beat the band." 
 
 Abernethy and Sylvestre looked at each 
 no
 
 At the Denver Club ill 
 
 other. They hated to admit that they put 
 any faith in her words. Finally Sylvestre 
 strolled away and Abernethy followed. 
 
 " Did you go to her? " asked the English- 
 man. 
 
 Sylvestre shook his head. 
 
 Abernethy removed his cigar and looked 
 at it critically. 
 
 " She was no gipsy," he said, tentatively. 
 
 Again Sylvestre said nothing. Without 
 understanding human nature in the least, 
 Sylvestre often stumbled on the best way to 
 handle different people, as in this instance, 
 where a confidence from Sylvestre, like that 
 they had just listened to from Jed Brown, 
 would have made the Englishman hesitate 
 to own himself similarly moved. With 
 Cornelia, Sylvestre succeeded because he 
 was honest, and clean, and good. And as 
 to his being a trifle stupid, a clever woman 
 rather likes it in a man. It not only shows 
 off her own wit, but is sometimes as sooth- 
 ing and comfortably companionable as to 
 own a big Newfoundland dog. 
 
 After a second silence Abernethy squared 
 himself as if to take the plunge and said : 
 
 " After due deliberation, however, gipsy
 
 112 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 or no, I have decided to follow her advice, 
 for she is a clever woman, a deucedly clever 
 woman, whoever she is." 
 
 Sylvestre showed no surprise. He simply 
 went on smoking. He possessed the power 
 of remaining absolutely quiet, a rare gift 
 in an American, and Abernethy loved him 
 for it. The conversational and physical 
 agility of most American men bored the 
 Englishman to extinction. For example, 
 after a heavy dinner he wished to remain 
 inert; to stagnate; to hibernate, so to 
 speak. He wouldn't have moved even for 
 Patricia, and yet " some damn fool " was 
 for ever suggesting billiards or pool! Just 
 after dinner! Fancy! 
 
 " She told me," went on Abernethy, hop- 
 ing to take a rise out of the quiet American, 
 " to consult you." 
 
 Not a muscle in Bob Sylvestre's face 
 moved. Abernethy knocked the ashes from 
 his cigar with a gesture of impatience. 
 
 " I would like to engage you, in behalf 
 of the syndicate which I have the honour 
 to represent " 
 
 " No one but an Englishman would say 
 that," thought the American.
 
 At the Denver Club 113 
 
 " To investigate that trolley. I ought 
 to have done it before, for now the time 
 is short. Investigate particularly what is 
 beneath it. I know that it was once a cable 
 system, but I do not know whether the 
 conduit is still there. If it is, ascertain if 
 there is any danger of our being compelled 
 to remove it. Will you do this for me?" 
 
 " I can do it without leaving this room. 
 Marston has bought Jed Brown out, and I 
 hear that he is sore over it. If there is 
 anything crooked about the deal to give 
 away, Jed is my man. Wait for me here." 
 
 Jed had been watching the conference of 
 these two out of the corner of his little red- 
 brown eyes. He grinned as Sylvestre ap- 
 proached him. But it was not a pleasant 
 grin. It suggested the grin of the tiger as 
 he saw his prey approaching, only, in this 
 instance, in Sylvestre Jed saw the man who 
 would help him to catch and devour his 
 prey. 
 
 Jed had been brooding over the perfidy 
 of Marston and Cheroot, and consuming a 
 beverage which assisted him in the process 
 of stirring himself up. But he was no- 
 body's fool, and he proposed to irritate Syl-
 
 114 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 vestre until there would be two on Marston's 
 trail instead of one. It would only assist 
 in the final project the fortune-teller had 
 outlined to him, anyway. If Jed helped 
 Sylvestre, Sylvestre would be in a frame 
 of mind to assist Jed. 
 
 " Let's have a drink," suggested Syl- 
 vestre when they had shaken hands. 
 
 Jed nodded with alacrity. 
 
 " I want to ask you a few questions, if 
 you don't mind," said the young man. " I 
 understand that you have sold your trolley 
 stock." 
 
 " Under compulsion," growled Jed. 
 
 ' Then you would have liked to keep it. 
 You think it is a good thing? " 
 
 " At present, yes. It is a snap. In two 
 months from now it will be a gold brick ! " 
 
 "How's that?" 
 
 " City council are going to make an elec- 
 tion issue of the company's refusal to take 
 up the cable conduit, and will compel the 
 English syndicate to do it." 
 
 " Why is everybody keeping so quiet 
 about it? Abernethy has heard nothing." 
 
 " Kind of fun to do John Bull. These
 
 At the Denver Club 115 
 
 Britishers think they are so infernally 
 smart." 
 
 " But do you think it is a square deal ? " 
 asked Sylvestre. 
 
 " It's as fair treatment as we would get 
 from them if we went to London with a 
 proposition to buy anything besides hav- 
 ing to wait thirty years while all the dif- 
 ferent directors were gathered up from 
 Scotland and France and Egypt for a con- 
 ference. I wore a path in the floor of the 
 Cecil Hotel once, charging up and down 
 while waiting for a directors' meeting in 
 London. And I had cabled them a month 
 beforehand that I'd be there on a certain 
 day. I never was so mad in my life. Good 
 chance to get even with the whole blamed 
 island in a deal like this." 
 
 " You won't get even with them this 
 time," said Sylvestre. 
 
 "Why not?" cried Jed, with a start. 
 Could it be possible that the gipsy's words 
 were coming true already? 
 
 " Because the English syndicate is not 
 going to buy the trolley. I have been en- 
 gaged by their representative, Lord Aber-
 
 Il6 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 nethy, to examine into it, and I shall tell 
 them what you have just told me." 
 
 The old man's eyes were snapping with 
 eagerness. He reached across the table and 
 seized Sylvestre's arm. 
 
 " What will they buy instead ? " he whis- 
 pered. 
 
 " I don't know. Here's a coin you just 
 dropped." 
 
 Jed took the gipsy's coin with trembling 
 fingers. Already he had forgotten her in- 
 junction not to speak of the new project for 
 three days. He pulled himself up with 
 nervous fear. He must be cautious, but 
 to listen was not the same as to broach, he 
 reflected. He fixed his eyes on the young 
 man opposite with ill-concealed eagerness. 
 
 " Now one thing more," said Sylvestre. 
 " I think this business of Marston's owning 
 the town has gone far enough. Why don't 
 you cut the ground from under him ? Who 
 are these people he owns, body and soul? 
 If he can buy them, you can release them. 
 Let's have free speech and fair play." 
 
 Old Jed Brown grinned. His shrewd old 
 face looked positively queer above his Paris- 
 made shirt, his London evening clothes, and
 
 At the Denver Club 117 
 
 the lilies in his buttonhole. The cigarette 
 between his fingers completed the carica- 
 ture. If he had worn jeans or overalls and 
 a slouch hat, if his cigarette had turned 
 into a short, black pipe, and if a yellow dog 
 had cringed at his heels, these accessories 
 would have matched his weather-beaten 
 face and his little weasel eyes. 
 
 The grin with which he greeted Sylves- 
 tre's words was irresistibly satirical. It 
 was about as incongruous a suggestion as 
 if a man should sit on the side of his bed 
 in his pyjamas and urge the burglar who 
 was robbing him to reform and join the 
 church. 
 
 " He must just about own the city coun- 
 cil," said Sylvestre. 
 
 " He does," grinned Jed. 
 
 "Do you know which ones?" 
 
 " Yep. And so do you. They were at 
 that meeting. Sat over by the window and 
 said nothing. Just looked." 
 
 " What were they there for ? They don't 
 own any stock." 
 
 " To see that Marston was doing what he 
 had promised 'em he would do. He told 
 'em he was going to sell out to the English
 
 1 1 8 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 syndicate, and had asked them to hold back 
 the city council until he had made the deal. 
 He asked 'em to come to the meeting and 
 see for themselves." 
 
 Sylvestre gave vent to an exclamation. 
 Then he considered. Jed watched him joy- 
 ously. 
 
 " Then how about this railroad ? There 
 never was any chance " 
 
 But Jed interrupted him with a smoth- 
 ered shout. 
 
 "Railroad!" he cried. "Railroad! 
 Who said there was any?" 
 
 " Well, but the papers the advertise- 
 ments the " 
 
 " Young man," said Jed, laying his hand 
 on Sylvestre's arm, " you want to go to a 
 dentist and have him lance your wisdom 
 teeth through. Make him hurry 'em up, 
 or else go back East where you belong." 
 
 Sylvestre coloured with anger. 
 
 " Don't get mad. Listen to your Uncle 
 Dudley. Those advertisements were made 
 up by a jim dandy. What do they say? 
 Do they claim to have the stock? No! 
 They say they are ' ready to receive appli- 
 cations for stock/ See? Now who i be-
 
 At the Denver Club 119 
 
 hind that deal? Hey? Lucius Bunce. 
 Whose brother is he? See? Who put 
 him up to it? Tell me that! The grayest 
 old fox in the bunch! G. W. Marston, of 
 Denver." 
 
 " By the Lord ! " cried Sylvestre, stung 
 into violent speech, as he remembered his 
 bootless journey to New York and his in- 
 terview with the New York banker. Syl- 
 vestre was slow to anger, but when once he 
 was aroused, he was what men call " an 
 ugly customer." 
 
 Jed watched him in glee. It was a jovial 
 sight for the old man to see such fury 
 stirred up against his enemy. Marston had 
 tried to do him, had he? And he had hired 
 his own paid henchman, Jimmie Cheroot, 
 to do the business, had he? And they were 
 both going to make a handsome wad out 
 of it, were they? And old Jed Brown was 
 left out of it, was he? Jed almost snarled 
 these thoughts aloud. Well, watch him 
 stir up the animals. If there was any such 
 thing as crippling G. W. for good and all, 
 he was determined to do it. 
 
 " You're mad, are you, sonny? " he said.
 
 120 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 " Well, that ain't a circumstance to what 
 G. W. can do!" -? 
 
 "I've heard enough," said Sylvestre, 
 shortly. " And I've a plan in my head. 
 With three of us hot on his trail we ought 
 to be able to catch up with even ' the gray- 
 est old fox in the bunch.' But to do it thor- 
 oughly we must let the newspapers in." 
 
 He looked at Jed significantly. 
 
 " I think," said the old man, lighting a 
 long, black cigar, " that I'll help along this 
 reform business of yours. As you say, it 
 ain't right to squeeze the Britishers. Maybe 
 some of 'em are orphans. I think, to-mor- 
 row, I'll just step around and see Tappen 
 and Wright. They might be willing to let 
 me assume their obligations to our old col- 
 lege chum Mr. Marston. I might even " 
 puff, puff " offer them a slight in- 
 ducement to jump head over heels into the 
 campaign issue now. In that case," he 
 paused and blew out the match, " watch 
 for the newspapers day after to-morrow 
 morning."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 PATRICIA AND LORD ABERNETHY 
 
 ON the day after the bazar, Patricia 
 was physically ill. The sight of the 
 house, in the chaos of disorder, 
 sickened her. She read languidly the glow- 
 ing reports of the bazar's brilliance and suc- 
 cess, which the newspapers served up with 
 true Western enthusiasm. Even the con- 
 gratulations of the beautiful Mrs. Lowe 
 and the thanks of her tired but happy com- 
 mittee stirred her with but feeble gratitude. 
 The reaction had set in. She had perhaps 
 ruined her father. The thought terrified 
 her. But she was brave enough to say to 
 Mrs. Lowe: 
 
 " In what bank do you deposit your hos- 
 pital funds?" 
 
 " Why, I thought I would put them in 
 your father's, my dear. Mr. Lowe sug- 
 gested it. Why?"
 
 122 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 " Because I would rather you didn't. It 
 would look better, I think, to take them 
 somewhere else. It is a large sum of 
 money, and I don't want any one to think 
 it will be of the slightest use to my father." 
 
 " You dear child ! " laughed Mrs. Lowe. 
 " I am sure no one would even think of 
 such a thing." 
 
 " Perhaps not. Still, to please me, will 
 you do it ? " 
 
 " Why, certainly. And I am sure, my 
 dear, that such delicacy is very rare to 
 find." 
 
 Patricia coloured with shame at receiving 
 praise for a quality she had not exercised. 
 All she was thinking of was the safety of 
 those funds. Besides, she wanted that 
 cheque of hers cashed before the cloud 
 burst, for she had no idea how seriously 
 or how lightly her father would be affected 
 by his failure to sell the trolley. She hoped 
 to " squeeze him," as the saying went, with 
 sufficient severity to make him remember 
 her as a dangerous opponent. 
 
 It was curiously characteristic of her 
 that she did not in the least dread her fath- 
 er's discovery of her acts. In fact, she
 
 Patricia and Lord Abernethy 123 
 
 looked forward to it with some anticipation. 
 She would have been glad if she could have 
 fought it out with him that day. It would 
 have served as a mental restorative to her 
 exhausted mind and body. 
 
 As for her feelings toward Abernethy, 
 she could not have analyzed them. At one 
 moment, she longed to have him know what 
 she had done as proof of how valiantly she 
 loved him and how greatly she had dared 
 for his sake. At another, she shook with 
 dread at the thought of such a discovery. 
 
 To Patricia, love had come as a whirl- 
 wind. It had swept her off her feet with 
 relentless force. She was a pagan in many 
 respects, and loved fiercely, as pagans do. 
 Civilization had no part in Patricia's pas- 
 sion for Abernethy. And it was a pale, 
 gentle, self-contained past product of the 
 highest civilization which had so won the 
 primeval love of this daughter of the un- 
 tamed West. 
 
 She was at times wholesomely afraid of 
 him, as a fiery woman must be of the man 
 she loves if she is to live happily with him. 
 At other times she was fiercely maternal in 
 her rage to defend and protect him from his
 
 124 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 enemies. In one mood she felt very simple 
 and young and wholly dependent upon his 
 wider knowledge of the world and society. 
 In another she felt years older and wiser 
 than he, and longed to beg him to do noth- 
 ing without first consulting her. It was 
 well for her love that she never yielded to 
 this desire and so pricked the bubble of an 
 Englishman's self-esteem. 
 
 Abernethy had listened to Sylvestre's re- 
 port of his conversation with Jed Brown 
 with mixed feelings. He felt as if an un- 
 seen hand had snatched him back at the 
 moment he was about to slide over a preci- 
 pice. He was keenly alive to the fact that 
 some woman had saved, not only his money, 
 but his honour. The question was, who 
 was the woman? 
 
 Naturally Patricia's name was the first 
 to flash into his mind. But as his thoughts 
 wandered to the role she would have been 
 obliged to play in order to warn him, not 
 even his good opinion of himself would 
 permit him to believe that a daughter would 
 so far prefer a lover's safety to that of her 
 own father. Nor could it be Mrs. Win- 
 throp, for she was in love with Sylvestre,
 
 Patricia and Lord Abernethy 125 
 
 and could have no motive. Friendship, the 
 friendship of a lifetime, might so dare, but 
 not the ephemeral acquaintanceship which 
 he had with her. Yet the woman, who- 
 ever she might prove to be, was clever, 
 beastly clever. Who, in the name of 
 Heaven, could it be but Patricia? The 
 blood coursed swiftly through his veins as 
 his suspicions returned again and yet again 
 to this girl. What if, after all, she did 
 love him enough for that? What a wife 
 she would make! And how the history of 
 such an unprecedented act of devotion 
 would make his people sit up! His wife, 
 were she American or Hottentot, would 
 need no further introduction to the proud 
 old house of Strowther than that. 
 
 He was very honourable and chivalrous, 
 was this descendant of the Goddards, and 
 he had so far abstained from asking Pa- 
 tricia to be his wife, partly because of her 
 great wealth and because he had hoped to 
 have something to offer her besides an old 
 name and an empty title. Nor was he sure 
 of her love for him. Now, however, he was 
 restless from dread and fear. If, as Jed 
 Brown more than hinted, the attack of the
 
 126 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 newspapers and public opinion and the op- 
 position forces should be opened up sud- 
 denly on Marston, and he was caught own- 
 ing not only all his own stock but all of Jed 
 Brown's, he would be practically ruined, 
 for, at the first sign of the weakening of the 
 Despot of Denver, all the jackals would be 
 upon him in an instant. There might even 
 be a run on the bank and total annihilation 
 might result. In that case, Patricia might 
 as well be a Capulet and he a Montague and 
 be done with it, as far as her father's con- 
 sent and any amicable alliance was to be 
 thought of. He did not, you see, know Pa- 
 tricia Marston in the least. 
 
 On the other hand, if it should prove that 
 Patricia had really been the fortune-teller, 
 it might be wise to secure her promise be- 
 fore the whole affair came out in the news- 
 papers, in which case, there was no time 
 to be lost. While not understanding the 
 heights and depths of Patricia's character, 
 he was coming to depend upon her resource- 
 fulness and to lean, in a manner, on her 
 strength. 
 
 Thus it was that, in the afternoon of the 
 day following the bazar, Abernethy sud-
 
 'Patricia and Lord Abernethy 127 
 
 denly decided to call on Patricia, to ascer- 
 tain, if possible, where he stood with her. 
 
 To say that he was ill at ease, while he 
 was waiting for his name to be announced 
 to Patricia, would be to state the case 
 mildly. The only thing which gave him 
 any confidence was the sight of Patricia's 
 equally great consternation as she entered 
 the room. She actually turned pale. As 
 she gave him her hand, neither spoke. 
 Abernethy fumbled with his monocle and 
 dropped his hat: A faint twitching of 
 Patricia's lip showed itself. But Abernethy 
 had no sense of humour. 
 
 " You are laughing at me," he said. 
 
 " No, indeed I am not ! " said Patricia. 
 " How can you think so? " 
 
 " I'm nervous, I suppose. I want to tell 
 you something to ask you something, 
 and it will make me out such an awful ass, 
 I am afraid to begin." 
 
 Instantly Patricia divined what was in 
 the air. She turned cold. 
 
 Abernethy got up and stood near her, 
 with his arm on the mantel. He drew his 
 gloves through his hand as he talked. 
 
 " You must forgive me if I seem too bold,
 
 128 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 but no man who loved you could be mis- 
 taken. I suspected your voice last night 
 and the glance of those eyes, but when I 
 caught you by the arms, I was sure. You 
 were the gipsy in the fortune-teller's 
 booth!" 
 
 Patricia's colour came and went. 
 
 " Suppose I was? " she said at last. 
 
 He bent over her. 
 
 " My God, Patricia ! Do you know what 
 you are acknowledging ? " 
 
 She made no reply. But she looked up 
 at him with a frightened, helpless glance. 
 His eyes burned into hers. 
 
 " You are admitting that to save me you 
 sacrificed your own father. You jeopar- 
 dized your own fortune. You may have 
 impoverished yourself. And for me! You 
 are admitting that that you love me ! " 
 
 A quiver of emotion swept over the girl 
 from head to foot, but her eyes never 
 wavered. He held them with his own. 
 
 "Patricia!" 
 
 He knelt on one knee and took her face 
 between his hands. 
 
 " Patricia ! " he said again. 
 
 She smiled at him, half dreamily, al-
 
 "Patricia and Lord Abernethy 129 
 
 though her lips burned and her cheeks 
 flamed red. 
 
 "Is it so strange?" she said. 
 
 " That you should love me like that ? 
 Yes! It is strange that any woman should 
 care more for a penniless lover than for 
 such a fortune as you have imperilled. But 
 perhaps you don't realize what you have 
 done?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I do! " said Patricia. " I have 
 sacrificed my father. Well, such a man 
 deserves to be sacrificed! If he had made 
 his money honestly I would feel differently. 
 But he has no sense of honour. He doesn't 
 care how decent people feel how his own 
 daughter feels ! Don't think I took this way 
 of convincing him of my sincerity without 
 exhausting all other methods! I have 
 argued with him, pleaded with him, threat- 
 ened him with this very thing, and what 
 did he do ? He laughed at me and gave 
 me a cheque! I hate his money! I don't 
 enjoy this house or fine clothes or horses 
 and carriages ! They are not ours ! They 
 belong to honest men who have trusted 
 my father, and he took advantage of their 
 weaknesses and betrayed them. I would
 
 130 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 rather walk barefoot through life as the 
 companion of an honest man than to be 
 the daughter of such a father and sur- 
 rounded by all this. Does that shock you? 
 Does it sound unfilial and disloyal and all 
 the rest of it? Perhaps I am wrong, but 
 I never believed in being blindly loyal to 
 parents who were unworthy of respect just 
 because one happens to be born their daugh- 
 ter! It's all nonsense! It's all wrong! 
 The only thing to be loyal to is honour 
 wherever you find it, and I find it in you ! " 
 
 Abernethy's pale face was flushed with 
 feeling. He drew the girl closer to his 
 breast and hid his face in her hair. 
 
 " I didn't know that such a woman as 
 you existed ! " he said. " Those are men's 
 ideas you have been uttering, and very 
 honest and loyal men's at that. I didn't 
 know that women had such a keen sense 
 of honesty. You will forgive my saying 
 that?" 
 
 " It is true that's why I forgive it," 
 answered Patricia. " That is why I don't 
 get on with women very well. That is why 
 I love Cornelia Winthrop." 
 
 " But oh," interrupted Abernethy, unwill-
 
 Patricia and Lord Abernethy 131 
 
 ing to have the conversation swerve to Mrs. 
 Winthrop or anywhere, in fact, except back 
 to the subject of the wonder and beauty of 
 such a love as he had discovered in Patricia, 
 " how could you be so magnificent ! I can 
 hardly believe yet that you gave it all up for 
 me. How can I ever love you enough to 
 repay you for such a sacrifice? What a 
 woman you are ! Surely there is no one else 
 in all the world like you ! " 
 
 Now if Patricia had been a woman of the 
 world, she would have accepted that state- 
 ment as soul-satisfying and quite as it 
 should be, and she would have let it go at 
 that. But in the divine generosity of her 
 eager young soul, she flew at once to the 
 task of disproving it, in order to give a 
 friend her just due. 
 
 " Oh, but you don't know," she cried. 
 " I gave it up because I loved you ! It was 
 easy to do that because you were on the 
 other side of it, and I was doing it to save 
 you to warn you. Women will always 
 dare such things for the men they love. 
 But for an abstract idea? For good, just 
 because it is right and honourable? Will
 
 132 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 they throw away a fortune or even an oppor- 
 tunity to make one? Tell me that! " 
 
 " I am afraid," said Abernethy, " that 
 they will not. Unless, as you say, there is 
 a man in the case." 
 
 "Yet Cornelia Winthrop did just that! 
 And there was no man in the case unless 
 you could be the man in two cases ! " 
 
 "I? What have I to do with it? " 
 
 " Everything. She did it for you and for 
 me. And in so doing, she destroyed all her 
 hopes of money and all Sylvestre's pros- 
 pects. And they wanted to be married ! " 
 
 " How do you mean ? Tell me," said 
 Abernethy. 
 
 " Why," and Patricia almost stuttered 
 in her eagerness, " you knew of course that 
 Cornelia was here to sell her mine, didn't 
 you ? And you know it is situated in Monte 
 Cristo County near Agua. Well, Cornelia 
 and Sylvestre were planning and working 
 in every way possible to have the new trans- 
 continental railroad go through Agua and 
 buy her property." 
 
 She paused a moment and looked at 
 Abernethy. 
 
 " Didn't she know that there was to be no
 
 Y 
 
 Patricia and Lord Abernethy 133 
 
 railroad? That it was all part of the pi 
 plan to sell the trolley ? " he asked. 
 
 "Go on ! Use the word you intended 
 to ! " cried Patricia. " It was a plot ! No, 
 she didn't know it. Any more than you did. 
 I found it out accidentally and went and 
 told her that you must be warned, and that 
 she must help me warn you. I remember 
 now how pale she grew and how suddenly 
 she walked to the window and stood staring 
 out at the mountains. I thought she took 
 no interest in my troubles and I felt angry 
 with her brute that I was! When all 
 the time she was fighting down her disap- 
 pointment. The shock of suddenly realiz- 
 ing that if you did not buy the trolley the 
 railroad would not go through her property 
 and would leave her mine and the town of 
 Agua as it had always been, was almost too 
 much for her. But realizing all that, she 
 helped me to warn you. There's a woman 
 for you ! " 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me she was going 
 to sacrifice her gold mine to the railroad ? " 
 
 " Certainly. Why, that mine of hers 
 won't be sold until somebody comes along 
 with millions and a wild desire to sink
 
 134 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 them ! " cried Patricia, with her eager eyes 
 on the Englishman's face. 
 
 " I have only just learned in the last day 
 or two what a valuable mine it is," said 
 Abernethy, stroking his moustache. Patri- 
 cia afterward learned to watch for that 
 familiar movement whenever he was think- 
 ing deeply. Then after a pause he added: 
 " Did you know that I was instructed to 
 buy mining property, and that I had to 
 work hard to persuade my father's friends 
 to buy the trolley instead ? " 
 
 " I didn't until day before yesterday. 
 Then Sylvestre told me. Did you have 
 you would you consider looking into 
 Cornelia's property?" stammered Patricia. 
 
 Abernethy laughed outright. He leaned 
 nearer and pressed her face close to his. It 
 was burning hot and her breath came short. 
 
 " Anybody would think, you dear thing, 
 that you were trying to sell me something 
 of your own, from your embarrassment," 
 he said. " I have thought of it. In fact, 
 I have all of Sylvestre's data about it in 
 my pocket and I am going into the thing 
 thoroughly. Does that please you ? " 
 
 " Please me ! " cried the girl, radiantly.
 
 * Patricia and Lord Abernethy 135 
 
 " It delights me ! And then, too, it is only 
 justice! Justice and common grati- 
 tude." 
 
 " Why, how is that? " asked Abernethy. 
 
 " It was Cornelia who suggested the for- 
 tune-teller. She gathered herself together 
 in the very teeth of her own disappointment 
 and we decided on it that day. Oh, can you 
 fathom such nobility as that ? / didn't know 
 that she was counting on such a thing until 
 a long time afterward. And she has led 
 such a sad life in spite of her wealth and 
 beauty." 
 
 " I heard that she had a brute of a hus- 
 band," said Abernethy. 
 
 " She did. He broke her heart and went 
 through her fortune and left her with just 
 this mine that he had vainly tried to sell 
 for eight years. The hopes of both Cornelia 
 and Sylvestre were pinned to the railroad. 
 And they looked forward to a quiet life with 
 no great amount of money, but happiness 
 in each other." 
 
 " By Jove ! " said the Englishman, whose 
 emotions, although deep-lying, had been 
 stirred, " if her mine is half as good as Syl- 
 vestre says, she and that young man won't
 
 136 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 be obliged to live in obscurity and dull 
 respectability. For if we buy it, Sylvestre 
 thinks Jed Brown will join forces with us 
 and continue his railroad down to Agua. 
 But he won't give us his decision until day 
 after to-morrow." 
 
 Patricia flung back her head and burst 
 into a peal of laughter. Abernethy looked 
 at her in surprise. 
 
 " It's because the gipsy told him to dream 
 three nights on her coin before speaking ! " 
 she cried. " He was so wild to ruin father 
 that he wanted to hunt you up and make a 
 deal with you that night! And that would 
 have ruined things ! " 
 
 " Then you foresaw all this ? Patricia, 
 girl ! I am beginning to be afraid of you." 
 
 Abernethy was not the first Englishman 
 to be surprised and a little frightened at 
 the cleverness and versatility of the Ameri- 
 can girl. It did him no harm to stand in 
 a little wholesome awe of her. 
 
 " Don't worry about his not going in with 
 you, if you give him a chance. He has 
 known all about that mine for years, and it 
 is my private belief that he built that ten 
 miles of road for this very purpose about
 
 Patricia and Lord Abernethy 137 
 
 eight years ago when there was a good 
 prospect of Mr. Winthrop selling it to a 
 syndicate of New York men. Father said 
 something about it, but he didn't make it 
 very clear." 
 
 Lord Abernethy's eyes flashed with re- 
 pressed excitement. 
 
 " If it is as good as all that and as well 
 known, it will not only be the means of sav- 
 ing my pride, but it will be quite a feather 
 in my cap to buy it," he said. " I confess 
 to a desperate shrinking from explaining 
 the whole matter to our syndicate. But to 
 offer them a better proposition, and along 
 the lines they first wished for, will not only 
 remove the little dissatisfaction which now 
 exists among them, but will open up their 
 pockets to greater investments. We may 
 yet make a colossal fortune out of this thing. 
 And then, Patricia, I shall have something 
 to offer you ! " 
 
 " Don't," cried the girl, sharply. " I have 
 a little of my own, a legacy from my grand- 
 mother. It is enough for us. Don't leave 
 me here! Take me away from it all! I'm 
 sick of the atmosphere of the whole place.
 
 138 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 I want to go with you! I can't exist 
 with these people ! " 
 
 Abernethy needed no more. 
 
 "Would you?" he breathed. "Would 
 you dare risk it with me, knowing no more 
 of me than you do ? Don't you need wealth 
 to make you happy? Could you get along 
 without all this?" 
 
 " How little you know me," whispered 
 Patricia.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE TWO MARSTONS 
 
 BEFORE leaving Patricia, Abernethy 
 had begged her permission to write 
 or speak to her father immediately, 
 but Patricia had so repeatedly been obliged 
 to listen to her father's contemptuous re- 
 marks about " that damned Englishman," 
 that she exacted a promise from her lover to 
 wait a few days and give events a reason- 
 able time to develop. 
 
 In this, Patricia was urged by a twofold 
 motive. First, she knew that no consent 
 obtained from her father now would hold 
 good when he discovered that Abernethy's 
 syndicate would not buy the trolley. In the 
 second place, she wished to confess to her 
 father her part in the transaction, bear his 
 reproaches, and stem the tide of his fury. 
 Ajfter all this was done, she would feel at 
 liberty to believe any promise of clemency 
 139
 
 140 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 he might be persuaded to make, for G. W.'s 
 anger was as short-lived as it was intense 
 and profane in its expression. 
 
 Fortunately for her eager temper, she 
 would not have long to wait, for the next 
 day was the last of Abernethy's option and 
 the one set for the payment of the money, 
 should no untoward event occur to disturb 
 his decision. 
 
 Patricia, unable to sleep, rose early and 
 was off before breakfast for a gallop on 
 her chestnut mare. She was horrified on 
 crossing Logan Avenue to see that one oi its 
 handsomest houses was burned to the 
 ground and that the ruins were still smoul- 
 dering. The Denver Fire Department was 
 so excellent that she wondered that nothing 
 had been saved. The engines were still 
 pumping, and an enormous crowd prevented 
 her going close enough to learn anything 
 of the particulars. As it must have burned 
 early in the night she hurried home to see 
 the morning papers. The house burned was 
 that of Judge Beckwith, and one of which 
 Denver was peculiarly proud, as it boasted 
 a fine library and many valuable engravings. 
 
 The fire, if it had been instigated by Jed
 
 The Two Marstons 141 
 
 Brown, could not have served his purpose 
 better, for the overhead trolley wires had 
 prevented the working of the hook and 
 ladder company and had materially aided in 
 the complete destruction of the judge's ele- 
 gant home. 
 
 Judge Beckwith, honourable, upright, and 
 fearless, was one of the few men whom 
 Marston did not own, and with his statement 
 to the press of the chief reason his posses- 
 sions were destroyed, the press of Denver, 
 stimulated by Jed Brown, took a long breath, 
 rolled up its sleeves, so to speak, and went 
 to work. 
 
 Seldom has any man been treated to so 
 varied yet universal invective as that which 
 was served up to George Washington Mars- 
 ton on the day after the fire. To say that 
 he was handled without gloves is not to 
 do justice to the spirited journalism of trie 
 West. It would express their method more 
 concisely to say that in lieu o>f gloves every 
 editorial fist was equipped with brass 
 knuckles. They began with G. W.'s arrival 
 in Denver and opened up every sharp deal 
 and too shrewd transaction of his shady 
 career. They aired the trolley affair. They
 
 142 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 published Abernethy's statement that his 
 syndicate's option would be allowed to lapse. 
 They raged against the abandoned conduit. 
 They demanded in the name of the city of 
 Denver, of the great Commonwealth in 
 which they resided, that the trolley company 
 should remove it. They showed how G. 
 W. had crowded Jed Brown out of the com- 
 pany on an almost forgotten option, just in 
 time to prevent his making the profit which 
 was soon to flow into Marston's pocket. 
 They jeered at Marston's disappointment 
 and derided him for owning three-quarters 
 of the stock. 
 
 " Caught With The Goods On " were the 
 headlines of one particularly enterprising 
 sheet. 
 
 Patricia dared not meet her father at 
 breakfast. She sent out for copies of all 
 the papers, after having glanced at the head- 
 lines, and read them in her room. She 
 heard the slamming of the two library doors 
 and knew that her father was reading them 
 also. 
 
 Several reporters called, but were refused 
 admittance. Finally, from behind closed
 
 The Two Marstons 143 
 
 blinds, Patricia saw her father leave the 
 house and start for the bank. 
 
 He was gone all day. Patricia knew that 
 there would be no use in seeking her mother, 
 for Mrs. Marston would know nothing of it. 
 Mrs. Lowe and her committee tactfully kept 
 away. Cornelia telephoned, but Patricia 
 was in no mood to see even Cornelia. 
 
 Abernethy sent some tiger-lilies with a 
 note which delighted Patricia. 
 
 " Both roses and violets seem tame when 
 I think of you and all you have done for 
 me," he wrote. " These fiercely beautiful 
 flowers are strangely emblematic of your 
 magnificent courage and the purity and 
 singleness of your purpose. You have 
 fought like a little tigress and you are as 
 pure and sweet as a lily." 
 
 He called in the afternoon and was im- 
 mensely diverted at seeing his flowers in a 
 tall vase on the piano in the music-room, 
 while Patricia sat down at the instrument 
 and sang, with an inimitable accent, that 
 song from " Aunt Hannah," " You is mah 
 lily mah tiger-lily ! " 
 
 Abernethy was delighted. Her sense of 
 humour, perhaps because his own was not
 
 144 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 abnormally developed, seemed to him irre- 
 sistible. An English girl in her place would 
 have been so bowled over by the sentiment 
 of his note that she would have quoted 
 Cowper to him in return. He found Pa- 
 tricia's way much more exhilarating, for in 
 spite of her fun he read in her expressive 
 eyes that his words had been amply appre- 
 ciated. 
 
 After he had gone Patricia had not long 
 to wait before her father arrived. It proved 
 that the girl was no coward in that she dared 
 to follow him into the library after she had 
 seen the storm in his face. 
 
 He was not sorry to see her. His rage 
 demanded an outlet, and his daughter was 
 familiar with his bursts of fury and his 
 frightful profanity. On this occasion, he not 
 only uttered all his old oaths, but on the 
 spur of the moment he invented some new 
 ones of a particularly fantastic and descrip- 
 tive pattern. 
 
 Perhaps it was the softening and refining 
 influence of her new friendship with Cornelia 
 and her love for Ajbernethy, but something 
 caused the girl to shrink in sudden horror 
 from her father's familiar invective.
 
 The Two Marstons 145 
 
 " I tell you, Patrichy," he said, finally, 
 "you wouldn't sit there so quietly if you 
 knew how damned near ruined your old 
 father is. I had let everything else slide 
 
 while I tried to sell this trolley. I 
 
 made a mistake a big mistake in crowd- 
 ing Jed Brown out of his share in the profits, 
 for if I had left him in, he wouldn't have 
 rotted on me. Do you know what he did? 
 He went and hunted up, helped by that little 
 skunk Cheroot (just you wait until I can 
 get at him!), every man in the city council 
 and in the newspaper line who owed me 
 money, and he released 'em! Think of that 
 for a dirty back-hander at me! It must 
 have cost him a pretty penny, but old Jed 
 is as mean as an Indian when he wants 
 revenge, and he'd spend his last cent to 
 get even. That loosed every hell-hound in 
 town and to-day they all landed on me. 
 Have you seen the papers ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Patricia. " I read them all." 
 " Pretty reading, weren't they ? " 
 " I must say I think you deserved it," said 
 Patricia, quietly. 
 
 G. W. glared at her. 
 "What? "he shouted.
 
 146 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 " I must say I think you deserved every 
 word they said and more," she repeated. 
 " They don't know everything. For in- 
 stance, they don't know some of the things 
 on you that I do." 
 
 The old man's fingers worked convul- 
 sively. If Patricia had been a man, he would 
 have sprung at her throat. But the girl sat 
 quiet and defenceless before him, and he 
 knew that she was not afraid of him. She 
 looked at him scornfully. 
 
 " You have defied public opinion for 
 years," she said. " There wasn't one line 
 in the papers to-day that was news to you. 
 What are you so hot about? " 
 
 " Because I'm caught, I suppose," said 
 G. W., his grim sense of humour not desert- 
 ing him even in this crisis, " with the goods 
 on. It isn't pleasant to be caught, Pa- 
 trichy." 
 
 " No, but you never would be warned. 
 How many times have I begged you not to 
 go on as you were doing? How often have 
 I told you that this time would surely 
 come?" 
 
 " I know you have, Patrichy, but I never 
 believed yon. I thought I could pull
 
 Af 
 
 The Two Marstons 147 
 
 through. I never counted on treachery from 
 an old friend ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Patricia, vehemently. " You 
 never counted on your own treachery com- 
 ing home to you ! You have been ruined by 
 the very methods you have used to ruin 
 others. You induced people to trust you that 
 you might trade on their weaknesses and 
 rob them. Now you have got a taste of your 
 own medicine. The two you most trusted 
 betrayed you, and you've only got what you 
 deserved." 
 
 "The two? Who else besides Jed?" 
 
 " I am going to marry Lord Abernethy," 
 said Patricia, with apparent irrelevance. 
 " Think it over." 
 
 G. W. possessed the self-control in a 
 crisis which had made him what he was. 
 Not a muscle of his face moved at this ex- 
 traordinary piece of news. His quick mind 
 flew backward and pieced a little here and 
 a little there until he almost saw the truth. 
 
 " Ah, ha ! " he said, scratching his bristly 
 chin. " Then it was you who told him 
 about the abandoned conduit, and upset the 
 whole apple cart, was it ? "
 
 148 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 " Did I or did I not plead with you not 
 to go on with this thing? " 
 
 "You did." 
 
 " Did you refuse me? " 
 
 " As I remember it, seems to me, I did." 
 
 " Well, it may interest you to know 
 that I was the gipsy fortune-teller night 
 before last." 
 
 The two Marstons, father and daughter, 
 stared straight into each other's eyes across 
 the library-table. Patricia's, at that mo- 
 ment, had the same cold, fearless, steely glare 
 that G. W.'s enemies had learned to dread. 
 Her father recognized and admired it, 
 even in that supreme crisis, when in his 
 fury he could have struck her dead for 
 thwarting him. 
 
 " You deliberately ruined me, then, did 
 you ? Your own father, to save your lover ? " 
 
 " That's what I did." 
 
 " It may interest you to know that Cross- 
 fuylen predicts a run on the bank to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " It doesn't concern me," said Patricia. 
 " My money isn't invested where you can 
 touch it." 
 
 Marston changed his tactics.
 
 The Two Marstons 149 
 
 " And is this the reward I get for having 
 slaved all my life to make money for you? " 
 
 Patricia laughed. It was so exactly G. 
 W.'s own mirthless laugh that the old man 
 started. Verily she was a chip off the old 
 block and there was no bluffing her. 
 
 " You'll change your tune, miss, when 
 you find what it is to be poor. You've never 
 known what it was. You've been fed and 
 lodged like a princess. You've never had 
 your will crossed since you were a baby. 
 I'll be glad to see you come down to hard 
 pan, you ungrateful hussy. And as to that 
 skunk of an Englishman, with a watch on 
 his wrist and bells on his toes say, Pa- 
 trichy, why don't he wear a ring in his 
 nose?" 
 
 " Oh, father, why will you go to so much 
 trouble to be vulgar? Surely I am not 
 worth the effort," said Patricia, wearily. 
 
 " He hasn't got a cent. You'll be as poor 
 as Job's turkey," said her father. 
 
 " Perhaps so. But he and Sylvestre are 
 investigating Mrs. Winthrop's mine with 
 a view to buying it for his syndicate, and 
 Jed Brown is thinking of continuing his 
 road down to Agua and going in with
 
 150 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 them," said the girl, with elaborate careless- 
 ness. 
 
 Her shot told. G. W.'s red face turned 
 purple. His lips drew back over his teeth 
 like the snarl of a tiger. 
 
 " Is that your doing too? " he hissed. 
 
 *' I believe the gipsy suggested it/' said 
 Patricia. 
 
 Then Marston broke loose and treated 
 the situation as it seemed to him to deserve. 
 He skipped nothing, neither Patricia, Aber- 
 nethy, nor any man or woman concerned 
 in his present unfortunate predicament. He 
 cursed them all, and Patricia sat and lis- 
 tened. It was what she wanted. After 
 airing his emotion, her father would be 
 amenable to reason. When he paused for 
 sheer lack of breath, the girl leaned forward 
 and said: 
 
 " Now, father, listen to me. I'm sick of 
 this whole thing. I am sick of your way 
 of doing business. I am tired of being 
 despised by honest people. I want to get 
 out of it all, and I took the only way I saw 
 to do it. You say you are ruined, but I 
 know you are not. You are just chagrined 
 at being done by your own methods. Your
 
 tjr 
 
 The Two Marstons 151 
 
 vanity is hurt. You are mad at me, at Jed, 
 at Abernethy, and at everybody except the 
 only one you have a right to be mad at, 
 and that's yourself. It's every bit your 
 own fault. You brought me up to think 
 such things were right, and when the time 
 came I put my knowledge to good use. I've 
 saved the money and the honour of the 
 man I love. And I'd do it again, so don't 
 think I'm weakening. I'd kill anybody who 
 stood in my way! Oh, I am your own 
 daughter, you see! 
 
 " Now there is no use in your saying 
 I sha'n't marry him, for you know I am 
 going to do it. You've only been wasting 
 your breath. But listen. I'm ready to 
 make a bargain with you. Suppose I could 
 suggest something to you which would more 
 than get your money back. Suppose it 
 would make people think well of you 
 better than they ever did before. What 
 then?" 
 
 The old man had never admired his 
 daughter as during this interview when 
 she had been most impertinent, most un- 
 filial, most unbearable, in fact. She had 
 taken the only method, reprehensible though
 
 152 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 it was, to subdue her tigerish old father 
 and reduce him to a civilization where it 
 would be safe for Abernethy to address 
 him unarmed. Even in the midst of his 
 anger, the thought would intrude itself that 
 it was " Patrichy," his own girl, who had 
 done him at last. It was the instinct of 
 the habitual gambler. His respect for her, 
 therefore, induced him to listen carefully 
 to her proposal and even to make liberal 
 terms with her. ' .. 
 
 "What will I do? Well, I'll tell you. 
 I won't make any fuss about your marry- 
 ing that that Englishman, and I'll give 
 you the handsomest wedding that Denver 
 ever saw." 
 
 " That isn't enough," said Patricia, 
 shortly. 
 
 " Well," said her father, stroking his 
 face to hide a grin of amusement, "I'll 
 give you a house and " 
 
 " Well, go on," said Patricia, impatiently. 
 
 " Carriage and horses." 
 
 " Oh father, what is the use of trifling? " 
 cried the girl. " Will you give me half of 
 what you make? Half your trolley stock 
 if I can make it pay? "
 
 t 
 
 The Two Marstons 153 
 
 *' Yes, I will ! I'll make you an even 
 partner," cried the old man 2 his eyes snap- 
 ping at the prospect. " What's your idea? " 
 
 "Now mind, that's a bargain, is it?" 
 
 " Here's my hand on it." 
 
 " I'd rather have your hand writing on 
 it. Just sign your name to this, will you ? " 
 
 G. W. put on his glasses with a look at 
 his daughter which might mean anything. 
 
 "Who drew this up?" he asked. 
 
 " A lawyer." 
 
 " Patrichy, you're a little devil." 
 
 He drew the inkstand toward him and 
 signed a legal contract which bound him. 
 
 *' Now let her go," said her father. 
 
 " You know very well," began his daugh- 
 ter, " how powerful Judge Beckwith's in- 
 fluence is with the best people of Denver. 
 Now then, as I look at it, you are more 
 injured, from a business point of view, by 
 his statements of the danger of the trolley 
 wires than by any of the other things the 
 papers said against you. Isn't that so? " 
 
 " Shouldn't wonder if it was," replied 
 her father. 
 
 " Well, you are face to face with the 
 proposition of being obliged to take up the
 
 1 54 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 conduit. Now, just fall in with public 
 sentiment go it one better for once in 
 your life and put the trolley wires in the 
 conduit! " 
 
 For a moment an intense silence reigned. 
 Finally the old man leaned across and held 
 out his hand : 
 
 " Patrichy," he said, " I never was so 
 sorry in my life as I am this moment that 
 you aren't a man." 
 
 " Then you think the plan a good one? " 
 
 " I only think what chuckle-headed asses 
 the company was not to think of it when 
 we changed the road from a cable to a 
 trolley. Lord! Lord! And to be taught 
 such a stroke by a woman a little girl 
 like you." 
 
 Patricia laughed. 
 
 u There's one thing I'm sorry for," he 
 added, " and that is, if you are so hell-bent 
 on marrying an Englishman that you didn't 
 take the other fellow Sir Wemyss Lom- 
 bard." 
 
 " But he didn't want me, father. He's 
 engaged to a beautiful girl in England." 
 
 " That's nothing. You could have cut 
 her out if you'd half tried. Why, that man,
 
 or 
 
 The Two Marstons 155 
 
 Patrichy, can drink a quart of whiskey, of 
 Scotch, mind you, and strong as lye, all by 
 himself with nobody to help him, between 
 dinner and bedtime, and walk tip-stairs, by 
 the Lord, without touching the banisters ! " 
 
 Patricia burst into a shout of laughter. 
 
 " Is that your only reason for preferring 
 him to Lord Abernethy ? " 
 
 " But what a head it shows ! " 
 
 "How little head it shows! Think of 
 him in ten years! And think of his wife! 
 No, thank you, father. I'll keep Lord 
 Abernethy, if you don't mind." 
 
 The old man sighed. 
 
 " Patrichy, promise me one thing. If 
 you have any influence with him, get him 
 to throw away that damned bracelet- watch. 5 ' 
 
 " I will, if you'll give him a repeater like 
 yours," said the girl, dimpling. 
 
 " I'll do it! I'll do it! I'll order it to- 
 morrow! Anything on God's earth to get 
 a man to leave off earrings and bracelets." 
 
 The old man rose. 
 
 " God ! I'm sorry it's night and I can't 
 begin this thing for twelve hours," he said, 
 pacing up and down.
 
 156 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 A cautious knock at the door came just 
 then. 
 
 " A reporter to see Mr. Marston," said 
 the maid. 
 
 " Tell him to come in," said Patricia. 
 " You see, father, now you won't have to 
 wait. You can begin to-night." 
 
 The old man stood and watched her as 
 she left the room. Then he shook his head 
 with a gusty sigh. 
 
 " Lord ! Lord ! Why wasn't Patrichy a 
 boy ? " he said. 
 
 THE END.
 
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