He screamed and dropped his club, both hands going to his face. Bully Benson was already in a staggering run, choking on his own blood. The third and wiser man had never closed, and he was maintaining a fair lead as he ran.
Turning quickly, Finian saw Johnny Gibbons had a man against the wall and was slugging him with both fists. Archie had put one man down, and the third was running away.
Finian Chantry’s heart was pounding as he watched them go; then, taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped clean the sword blade and returned it to the cane. “A pack of scoundrels,” he commented as Johnny Gibbons came up beside him. “This will give them something to consider before they try it again.”
When they reached the carriage, Chantry got in and Johnny followed. “Archie?” he invited.
“Thank you, sir, your coachman is a friend, I shall ride out with him.”
“Back there,” Gibbons commented, “you spoke of giving that chap fifty good ones with a ‘Penang lawyer.’ I had never heard the phrase.”
“A Penang lawyer is a strip of rattan. It was used to influence discipline aboard craft in the Indian Ocean.”
“You were a ship’s officer?”
“Briefly. Like my brother, I was a merchant venturer, investing in cargoes and often going along to handle the trading myself. I had read for the law, as had he, so I finally settled for that. It was a fortunate choice.”
“In the O’Hara affair, if I can be of any assistance, you have only to ask.”
“No, it is a small matter. What you have told me is sufficient.”
Alone in his bedroom, Finian Chantry looked down upon his hands. “Useful,” he muttered, “useful still. And there was no fear, that is important.”
He felt no sympathy for Bully Benson. They had chosen the time, the place, and their weapons. What they got was less than what they deserved.
At supper I was seated in the same place, and discovered that in boardinghouses as at home, most people wanted to sit in the same seats. The bald-headed man who sat across from me was named Prescott. He nodded and smiled when I came in. “How are you enjoying Philadelphia?” he asked.
“There’s so much to see! After I saw Mr. White and Mr. Chantry — ”
The fat man farther down the table looked up from his food long enough to give me a sharp, somewhat impatient glance. He clutched his knife and fork as if prepared for battle. “Chantry, did you say? You saw Finian Chantry?”
“I did. He was very nice.”
“Young lady” — he spoke with authority — “you must be mistaken. Nobody, but nobody just walks in and sees Finian Chantry.”
“I saw him. I shall see him again in the morning. He is coming with me to see Mr. White.”
Very patiently the man said, “Miss Sackett, I know very important men who have tried for weeks to see Mr. Chantry. He is a busy man and accepts no new clients. You must have met somebody else who you assumed was Finian Chantry.”
He resumed eating and for a moment I thought of replying, then thought it was no use. And what did it matter, anyway?
Amy Sulky came in and seated herself. “Echo, there’s a man in the sitting room who wishes to speak to you. His name is White. He said you would know him, but I told him we were at supper and he could not see you until it was over.”
Mr. Prescott said, “Miss Sackett? If I can be of service? A witness or something?”
“Thank you. I cannot imagine why Mr. White is here. We were to meet in the morning, when Mr. Chantry can be there.”
The man down the table gave me an exasperated glance, but his mouth was full as usual and he said nothing. I am sure he wished to. He was called Mr. Butts, and judging by the size of his stomach, he was a very important man. He mopped the gravy from his plate with a piece of bread and looked enviously across the table at the skinny young man’s plate whose meal was only half-eaten.
Amy Sulky arose. “If I can help in any way … ?” she paused, lifting her eyebrows in question.
“No, ma’am. I have met him before. It will be all right.”
White got quickly to his feet when I came into the room. “Ah! Miss Sackett! How good of you to see me! Knowing how anxious you were to return to your mountains, I thought I had best do as much as possible to expedite your trip.
“I have the money here, and you’ve only to sign a release and you can be on your way. A receipt, that is.”
Taking from his pocket a small sack, he began counting out gold pieces on the table. For a moment I could only stare. Never before in my life had I seen even one gold piece, and here they were in shining stacks, and all mine. It was unbelievable.
He placed a sheet of paper on the table before me.
All I could think of was the gold and what it would do for all of us, and I wished that Pa had lived until now.
Mr. White dipped a pen in the inkwell and handed it to me. “Just sign right there” — he put a pudgy finger on the line — “just sign right there and it is all yours.”
He pushed a stack of the gold toward me, and I reached for the pen.
5
First I sat down and looked at that paper. Five hundred dollars in gold was a sight of money, and it would do a lot for my folks, but I did not like that bit about “paid in full.” How did I know that was all there was? And Mr. Prescott, him with the bald head and the beard, he had said, “Don’t sign anything.”
“Mr. White,” I said, “I can’t do it. I talked to Finian Chantry and he is coming to your office with me tomorrow morning. There’s no reason why I can’t wait until then.”
His mean little eyes tightened a bit around the edges. “Miss Sackett” — he held his voice patient — “I do not have time to waste. I have brought you the money, five hundred dollars in gold. Sign that paper and it is yours.
“I won’t,” he added, “even deduct the cost of advertising or my expenses. You can have it all.”
Whenever a man like James White gets generous, a body had better hold on to his pocketbook. “No, I’ve asked Mr. Chantry to handle it for me. It wouldn’t be polite if I went ahead without him.”
“Finian Chantry,” White said impatiently, “is too busy to bother with any mountain girl. You are just using his name. Now, you just sign that paper. I have another appointment and I simply can’t wait.”
“Tomorrow morning. Finian Chantry will be with me. We can get it all straightened out in a few minutes.”
He stared at me; then he got up. “You’ve had your chance,” he said. “You may never see that gold again. I have no idea what your Finian Chantry hopes to do — ”
A voice spoke from behind me. It was the tall young man from down the table. “Mister, if I were you, I would leave that gold with the young lady. Anybody who carries that much in the streets at night is crazy.”
James White ignored him. He pushed the paper at me again, and then the pen. “If you want that money,” he said, “you had better sign.”
“I am sorry, sir.” I got to my feet. “Not until tomorrow morning.”
He got up too, and he was almighty angry, I could see that. His face was flushed a mean red and he glared at me. “You are a very stubborn, foolish young lady, and you may lose it all.”
The young man had moved up beside me, and Mr. Prescott had come into the room. He said, “If the money is due her,” he said, “you will have it or the courts will take steps to recover it.”
He glared at us, then put the money back in the black bag he was carrying and without another word went out and slammed the door.
“Thank you,” I said.
“So that is James White?” Mr. Prescott said. “I have heard of him. If you wish, I could arrange the time to accompany you?”
“No, thanks. Mr. Chantry will be there.”
We talked a few minutes and they left, going to their rooms. For a few minutes I just stood there staring down at where all that gold had been.
Had I been a fool? Just think! Tomorrow morning I could have been on a stage starting for home again. Now how long would it be? And would I get any money at all? What the law said, I had no idea, and maybe there were ways he could keep it, and I would have to return with empty pockets.