He did not reach the door, nor was there necessity for him to ring,
for, before he had set foot on the lowest step, the Judge had hastened
to meet him. Not, however, with any fulsomely hospitable intent; his
hand and arm were raised to execute one of his Olympian gestures, of
the kind which had obliterated the young man upon a certain by-gone
morning.
Louden looked up calmly at the big figure towering above him.
"It won't do, Judge," he said; that was all, but there was a
significance in his manner and a certainty in his voice which caused
the uplifted hand to drop limply; while the look of apprehension which
of late had grown more and more to be Martin Pike's habitual expression
deepened into something close upon mortal anxiety.
"Have you any business to set foot upon my property?" he demanded.
"Yes," answered Joe. "That's why I came."
"What business have you got with me?"
"Enough to satisfy you, I think. But there's one thing I don't want to
do"--Joe glanced at the open door--"and that is to talk about it
here--for your own sake and because I think Miss Tabor should be
present. I called to ask you to come to her house at eight o'clock
to-night."
"You did!" Martin Pike spoke angrily, but not in the bull-bass of yore;
and he kept his voice down, glancing about him nervously as though he
feared that his wife or Mamie might hear. "My accounts with her estate
are closed," he said, harshly. "If she wants anything, let her come
here."
Joe shook his head. "No. You must be there at eight o'clock."
The Judge's choler got the better of his uneasiness. "You're a pretty
one to come ordering me around!" he broke out. "You slanderer, do you
suppose I haven't heard how you're going about traducing me,
undermining my character in this community, spreading scandals that I
am the real owner of Beaver Beach--"
"It can easily be proved, Judge," Joe interrupted, quietly, "though
you're wrong: I haven't been telling people. I haven't needed to--even
if I'd wished. Once a thing like that gets out you can't stop
it--ever! That isn't all: to my knowledge you own other property worse
than the Beach; I know that you own half of the worst dens in the town:
profitable investments, too. You bought them very gradually and
craftily, only showing the deeds to those in charge--as you did to Mike
Sheehan, and not recording them. Sheehan's betrayal of you gave me the
key; I know most of the poor creatures who are your tenants, too, you
see, and that gave me an advantage because they have some confidence in
me. My investigations have been almost as quiet and careful as your
purchases."
"You damned blackmailer!" The Judge bent upon him a fierce, inquiring
scrutiny in which, oddly enough, there was a kind of haggard
hopefulness. "And out of such stories," he sneered, "you are going to
try to make political capital against the Tocsin, are you?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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