Then Mays was suddenly conscious of the fact that a man, a stranger, was standing beside him. The man had emerged quietly from the room in which he had been concealed.
“There are the warrants for the whole crowd, including this man,” said Murray, handing the stranger a number of documents. “The charge is conspiracy, and, if they could have secured half the fine in each of the cases they prepared so carefully, they would have made a pretty good thing. Now, I’ve got the job of straightening this matter out so that both the policies and the company will be unassailable under the rebate law. But, at any rate, Schlimmer has got his second lesson, and it’s a good one. Look out for him especially, officer. If you keep this man away from the telephone, you’ll have no difficulty in getting Schlimmer and all the others.”
AN INCIDENTAL COURTSHIP
Harry Renway was the kind of man that people refer to as “a simple soul.” He might feel deeply, but he did not think that way. As a matter of fact, it was stretching things a little to call him a man, for he was hardly more than a boy—a youth in years, but a boy in everything else. Nevertheless, it is worth recording that he was a reasonably thrifty boy, although his earning capacity had not permitted him to put aside anything resembling a fortune.
Love, however, visits the poor as well as the wealthy, the simple as well as the wise. Indeed, sometimes it seems as if Love rather avoids the wealthy and wise and chooses the companionship of less-favored mortals. So, perhaps, it is not at all extraordinary that Harry Renway was in love, and the object of his affections was one of the most tantalizing specimens of femininity that ever annoyed and delighted man.
She said frankly that she was mercenary, but it is probable she exaggerated. She had been poor all her life, but she had no dreams of great wealth and no ambition for it: she merely wanted to be assured reasonable comfort—that is, what seemed to her reasonable comfort. A really mercenary girl would have deemed it poverty and hardship. Somehow, when one has been poor and has suffered some privations, one learns to give some thought to worldly affairs, and it is to the credit of Alice Jennings that she did not grade men more exactly by the money standard. Harry’s modest salary would be sufficient to meet her requirements, but Harry had nothing but his salary. A larger salary might give something of luxury, in addition to comfort, but, assured the comfort and freedom from privation, she would be guided by the inclinations of her heart. So, perhaps, she was wise rather than mercenary. Love needs a little of the fostering care of money, although too much of this tends to idleness and scandal.
“But if anything should happen to you,” argued Alice, when Harry tried to tell her how hard he would work for her.
“What’s going to happen to me?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” she answered lightly. “You’re a dear, good boy, Harry, and I like you, but I’ve had all the poverty I want.”
“Who’s talking about poverty?” persisted Harry stoutly. “I’ve got more than two hundred dollars saved up, and I’ll have a bigger salary pretty soon.”