CHAPTER XV
CAROLINA LANGDON'S ADVICE
"Let me speak to Mr. Haines alone," said Carolina to Norton and her brother.
Norton turned a triumphant grin at Randolph as he beckoned him out and whispered: "Leave him to her. It's all right. That New York dude has been riding for a fall—he's going to get it now."
"I am sorry, so sorry this should have occurred, Mr. Haines," Carolina said gently.
The secretary looked up slowly, his face drawn. It was an effort for him to speak.
"I can't understand it," he said. "I mightn't have thought so much of this a month ago, but I have come to love the Senator almost as a son, and to think that he could be like the rest of that bunch is awful."
"You are too much of an idealist, Mr. Haines," said the girl.
"And you? What do you think of it?" he demanded.
The girl's glance wavered.
"Don't idealize me too much, either, Mr. Haines. I didn't think it was much. Perhaps I don't understand business any too well."
"But you see now?" insisted the man.
The girl looked up at him sorrowfully.
"Yes; I see at least that you and father can never work together now."
Haines nodded affirmatively.
"I suppose so. I'm thinking of that. How am I to leave him? We've been so close. I've been so fond of him. I don't know how I could tell him."
In girlish, friendly fashion Carolina rested her hand on his arm.
"Won't you take my advice, Mr. Haines? Go away without seeing him. Just leave a note to say you have gone. He will understand. It will be easier for both that way—easier for him, easier for you." She paused, looking at him appealingly as she ended very softly, "And easier for me, Mr. Haines."
He looked at her thoughtfully.
"Easier for you?" he said. "Very well, I'll do it that way."
The secretary stepped slowly to his desk, sat down and started to write the note. Carolina watched him curiously.
"What will you do," she asked, "now that you have given up this position?"
"Oh, I can always go back to newspaper work," he answered without looking up.
The term "newspaper work" gave Carolina a shock. She had forgotten that this man had been a reporter. Here he was turned loose with the knowledge of this "deal," which she knew would be popular material for newspapers to print. She must gain still another point, and she felt that she had enough power to win against him.
"I'm going to ask you still another favor," she said.
Bud returned her look with a bitter smile.
"What is it?"
"You have learned about this—this land matter and—"
"Oh, yes! I can guess. You want me to keep quiet about it—to hush it up," a shade of scorn in his tone.
"I only asked this so that you would not disgrace me," she pleaded.
Disillusioned at last, robbed of his lifelong optimism, shorn of his ideals, even his love—for he began to despise this beautiful, misguided woman—Haines sat broken in spirit, thinking how quickly the brightness of life fades to blackness.
"Very well," he said sadly. "I suppose you are innocent. I'll save you. If they're all—your father, too—crooked, why shouldn't I be crooked? All right; I won't say anything."
"I only ask you not to disgrace me," pleaded the girl. "You will promise that?"
"It's a promise."
She sighed in relief.
"Father will be coming back soon," she said. "You won't want to see him."
Haines arose.
"No, I won't want to see him. Give him this note. I'll have to come back while he's away to clear up some things. Good-by."
Haines bowed and hurried from the room through a side doorway just as
Senator Langdon came in through the main entrance.
"Bud! Bud!" he called, but the secretary did not halt.
Carolina Langdon stood with Haines' note in her hand, wondering at what she had done. She regretted having become entangled in the wars of men in Washington. She saw that the man's game was played too strongly, too furiously fast, for most women to enter, yet she rejoiced that the coveted fortune had not been lost. She was sorry that her means of saving it had not been less questionable. She saw that ambition and honesty, ambition and truth, with difficulty follow the same path.
Senator Langdon's face was unusually grave as he came to greet Carolina. Lines showed in his face that the daughter had never noticed before.
She saw Norton and Randolph, who had followed him, exchange significant glances—jubilant glances—and wondered what new development they had maneuvered.
"He's gone without a word," the Senator sighed. "Well, perhap's that's best."
"He left a note for you," said the girl, handing him the letter which
Haines had given her.
Langdon opened it and read:
"I am giving up the job. You can understand why. The least said about it between us the better. I am sorry. That's all. BUD HAINES."
Slowly he read the letter a second time.
"And he was making the best kind of a secretary, I thought."
Divining that something against Haines had been told her father,
Carolina glanced at Norton.
"I told your father how we caught Mr. Haines," he spoke as an answer to her.
The girl was startled. She had not thought that things would go this far.
"I told him how Haines wanted to get in some land speculation scheme with Altacoola, how we tricked him and caught him with the goods when he made the proposition to me and how we forced him to confess."
"You told father that?" gasped Carolina.
Norton nodded.
"I don't understand it," said Langdon. "To think that he was that kind!"
Son Randolph now took his turn in the case against the secretary.
"We were both here, father. I heard him—Carolina heard him," he said.
"Didn't you, Carolina?"
"Yes," said the girl weakly, "I was here." Then she turned abruptly. "I must go," she said, "must go right away. Mrs. Holcomb is waiting for me."
The Senator turned to his desk bent and discouraged.
"I suppose I should have taken a secretary who was a Southerner and a gentleman. Well, Randolph, you'll have to act now. Take this letter—"
The young man sat down and took the following from the Senator's diction:
"MR. HAINES—
"Sir: I quite understand your feelings and the impossibility of your continuing in my employ. The least said about it the better. I am sorry, too.
"WILLIAM H. LANGDON."
"You boys run away. I've got to think," said the Senator.
When the pair had gone the old man drew the letter to him, and below his signature he added a postscript: "Don't forget there's some money coming to you."
Walking across the room to leave, he sighed:
"He was making the best kind of a secretary."