The Adventures of Jimmie Dale [36]
"You see the game! He wanted to get me in deep enough so that I couldn't wriggle out, deeper than ten thousand that I could get at any time on my insurance, he wanted me where I couldn't get away--and he got me. The first ten thousand wasn't enough. I went to him for a second, a third, a fourth, a fifth--hoping always that each would be the last. Each time a new note, a demand note for the total amount, was made, cancelling the former one. I didn't know his game, didn't suspect it--I blessed God for giving me such a friend--until this, or, rather, yesterday afternoon, when I received a telegram from my manager at the mine saying that he had struck what looked like a very rich vein--the mother lode. And"--Wilbur's fist curled until the knuckles were like ivory in their whiteness--"he added in the telegram that Thurl had wired the news of the strike to a man in New York by the name of Markel. Do you see? I hadn't had the telegram five minutes, when a messenger brought me a letter from Markel curtly informing me that I would have to meet my note to-morrow morning. I can't meet it. He knew I couldn't. With wealth in sight--I'm wiped out. A DEMAND note, a call loan, do you understand--and with a few months in which to develop the new vein I could pay it readily. As it is--I default the note--Markel attaches all I have left, which is the mine. The mine is sold to satisfy my indebtedness. Markel buys it in legally, upheld by the law--and acquires, ROBS me of it, and--" "And so," said Jimmie Dale musingly, "you were going to shoot yourself?" Wilbur straightened up, and there was something akin to pathetic grandeur in the set of the old shoulders as they squared back. "Yes!" he said, in a low voice. "And shall I tell you why? Even if, which is not likely, there was something reverting to me over the purchase price, it would be a paltry thing compared with the mine. I have a wife and children. If I have worked for them all my life, could I stand back now at the last and see them robbed of their inheritance by a black-hearted scoundrel when I could still lift a hand to prevent it! I had one way left. What is my life? I am too old a man to cling to it where they are concerned. I have referred to my insurance several times. I have always carried heavy insurance"--he smiled a little curious, mirthless smile--"THAT HAS NO SUICIDE CLAUSE." He swept his hand over the desk, indicating the papers scattered there. "I have worked late to-night getting my affairs in order. My total insurance is fifty-two thousand dollars, though I couldn't BORROW anywhere near the full amount on it--but at my death, paid in full, it would satisfy the note. My executors, by instruction would pay the note--and no dollar from the mine, no single grain of gold, not an ounce of quartz, would Markel ever get his hands on, and my wife and children would be saved. That is--" His words ended abruptly--with a little gasp. Jimmie Dale had opened the cash box and was dangling the necklace under the light--a stream of fiery, flashing, sparkling gems. Then Wilbur spoke again, a hard, bitter note in his voice, pointing his hand at the necklace. "But now, on top of everything, you have brought me disgrace-- because you broke into his safe to-night for THAT? He would and will accuse me. I have heard of you--the Gray Seal--you have done a pitiful night's work in your greed for that thing there." "For this?" Jimmie Dale smiled ironically, holding the necklace up. Then he shook his head. "I didn't break into Markel's safe for this--it wouldn't have been worth while. It's only paste." "PASTE!" exclaimed Wilbur, in a slow way. "Paste," said Jimmie Dale placidly, dropping the necklace back into its case. "Quite in keeping with Markel, isn't it--to make a sensation on the cheap?" "But that doesn't change matters!" Wilbur cried out sharply, after a numbed instant's pause. "You still broke into the safe, even if you didn't know then that the necklace was paste." "Ah, but, you see--I did know then," said Jimmie Dale softly. "I am really--you must take