AGAINST THE TIDE BY JOHN WYCLIFFE (Henry Bedford-Jones) NEW YORK DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 1924 COPYRIGHT, 1924, BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC. PRINTED IN U. S. A. VAIL-BALLOU PRESS, INC. BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK CONTENTS BOOK I "The Hidden Things of Dishonesty" BOOK II "He Who Did Eat of My Bread" BOOK III "A Man's Heart Deviseth His Way" BOOK I "THE HIDDEN THINGS OF DISHONESTY" AGAINST THE TIDE CHAPTER 1 The old-fashioned Deming mansion, for the hundredth time in its sedate existence, was filled with a gayety which offset even the menacing weather. Although noon was close at hand, the morning was deeply gloomy and ominous. Thunder clouds of late summer brooded over the Ohio, and rain, already sweeping across the wide crescent-bend of the river, was threatening to burst upon Evansville. Yet it was not because of these clouds that the old house was ablaze with light from cellar to attic. From the twelve-foot ceilings of the huge rooms hung electric clusters, whose glare was softened yet quickened by tinkling prisms and pendants of crystal. Along the walls twinkled sconces and candelabra; this richer glow brought out the scarlet coats of tapestried huntsmen, pursuing stags through indefinite forests of Gobelin weave. Everywhere was light and sound and laughter. A babel of tongues filled the rooms--crisply concise northern speech, mingled with the softer slur of southern accents. A listener might gather that this house was symbolic of Evansville itself, bordering both north and south, drinking of its best from either section; an Indiana city, yet of infinite variety, proudly exclusive, living more in past than present, yet cordial and open-hearthed. At noon, in this house, Dorothy Deming was to be married to Reese Armstrong. The wedding was yet some little distance away. Macgowan, who had been dressing for his part of best man and who was a house guest, crossed the upstairs hall toward the stairway, just as Dorothy herself appeared from a room which was aflutter with excited feminine voices. With the license of his age and position, he led her to the window-nook and began to speak of Armstrong. Dorothy, oblivious of the confusion around, yielded to the detention and listened eagerly. Why not? When Lawrence Macgowan spoke, few men but would have listened; not to mention a bride who was chatting with the groom's most intimate and trusted friend, and hearing wondrous things about the man whom she was soon to call her husband. Macgowan was impressive. More impressive than J. Fortescue Deming, in whose features the Deming Food Products Company had seared deep lines; more impressive than Deming's business directors and social friends here gathered; more impressive by far than young Armstrong, whose financial genius was making its mark so rapidly.