the fortune hunter(闯世界的人)-第15章
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Carteret； in the Postal Telegraph Building。 He told Windisch the whole
story。 ‘‘And；'' he ended； ‘‘I've got a detective looking up the rascal。
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He's a wretcha black wretch。''
‘‘We can't take your case； Mr。 Ganser；'' said Windisch。 ‘‘It's wholly
out of our line。 We don't do that kind of work。 I should say Beck and
Brown were your people。 They stand well； and at the same time they
know all the tricks。''
‘‘But they may play me the tricks。''
‘‘I think not。 They stand well at the bar。''
‘‘Yes； yes；'' sneered Peter； who was never polite； was always
insultingly frank to any one who served him for pay。 ‘‘I know that bar。''
‘‘Well； Mr。 Ganser；'' replied Windisch； angry but willing to take almost
anything from a rich client； ‘‘I guess you can look out for yourself。 Of
course there's always danger； once you get outside the straight course of
justice。 As I understand it； your main point is no publicity？''
‘‘That's right；'' replied Ganser。 ‘‘No newspapersno trial。''
‘‘Then Beck and Brown。 Drive as close a bargain as you can。 But
you'll have to give up a few thousands； I'm afraid。''
Ganser went over into Nassau Street and found Beck in his office。
He gazed with melancholy misgivings at this lean man with hair and
whiskers of a lifeless black。 Beck suggested a starved black spider；
especially when you were looking into his cold； amused； malignant black
eyes。 He made short work of the guileless brewer； who was dazed and
frightened by the meshes in which he was enveloped。 Staring at the
horrid specter of publicity which these men of craft kept before him； he
could not vigorously protest against extortion。 Beck discovered that
twenty thousand was his fighting limit。
‘‘Leave the matter entirely in our hands；'' said Beck。 ‘‘We'll make
the best bargain we can。 But Feuerstein has shrewd lawyersnone better。
That man Loeb'' Beck threw up his arms。 ‘‘Of course；'' he continued；
‘‘I had to know your limit。 I'll try to make the business as cheap for you
as possible。''
‘‘Put 'em off；'' said Ganser。 ‘‘My Lena's sick。''
His real reason was his hopes from the reports on Feuerstein's past；
which his detective would make。 But he thought it was not necessary to
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tell Beck about the detective。
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CHAPTER VI
TRAGEDY IN TOMPKINS SQUARE
After another talk with Travis； Feuerstein decided that he must give up
Hilda entirely until this affair with the Gansers was settled。 Afterward
well； there would be time to decide when he had his five thousand。 He
sent her a note； asking her to meet him in Tompkins Square on Friday
evening。 That afternoon he carefully prepared himself。 He resolved
that the scene between her and him should be； so far as his part was
concerned； a masterpiece of that art of which he knew himself to be one of
the greatest living exponents。 Only his own elegant languor had
prevented the universal recognition of this and his triumph over the envy
of professionals and the venality of critics。
It was a concert night in Tompkins Square； and Hilda； off from her
work for an hour； came alone through the crowds to meet him。 She made
no effort to control the delight in her eyes and in her voice。 She loved
him； he loved her。 Why suppress and deny？ Why not glory in the
glorious truth？ She loved him； not because he was her conquest； but
because she was his。
Mr。 Feuerstein was so absorbed in his impending ‘‘act'' that he barely
noted how pretty she was and how utterly in lovewhat was there
remarkable in a woman being in love with him？ ‘‘The women are all
crazy about me；'' was his inward comment whenever a woman chanced to
glance at him。 As he took Hilda's hand he gave her a look of intense；
yearning melancholy。 He sighed deeply。 ‘‘Let us go apart；'' he said。
Then he glanced gloomily round and sighed again。
They seated themselves on a bench far away from the music and the
crowds。 He did not speak but repeated his deep sigh。
‘‘Has it made you worse to come； dear？'' Hilda asked anxiously。
‘‘Are you sick？''
‘‘Sick？'' he said in a hollow voice。 ‘‘My soul is sickdying。 My
God！ My God！'' An impressive pause。 ‘‘Ah； child； you do not know
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what suffering isyou who have lived only in these simple； humble
surroundings。''
Hilda was trembling with apprehension。 ‘‘What is it； Carl？ You can
tell me。 Let me help you bear it。''
‘‘No！ no！ I must bear it alone。 I must take my dark shadow from
your young life。 I ought not to have come。 I should have fled。 But
love makes me a coward。''
‘‘But I love you； Carl；'' she said gently。
‘‘And I have missed youdreadfully； dreadfully！''
He rolled his eyes wildly。 ‘‘You torture me！'' he exclaimed； seizing
her hand in a dead man's clutch。 ‘‘How CAN I speak？''
Hilda's heart seemed to stand still。 She was pale to the lips； and he
could see； even in the darkness； her eyes grow and startle。
‘‘What is it？'' she murrmured。 ‘‘You know Ican bear anything for
you。''
‘‘Not that tone；'' he groaned。 ‘‘Reproach me！ Revile me！ Be
harsh； scornfulbut not those tender accents。''
He felt her hand become cold and he saw terror in her eyes。
‘‘Forgive me；'' she said humbly。 ‘‘I don't know what to say or do。 I
you look so strange。 It makes me feel all queer inside。 Won't you tell
me； please？''
He noted with artistic satisfaction that the band was playing passionate
love…music with sobs and sad ecstasies of farewell embraces in it。 He
kissed her； then drew back。 ‘‘No；'' he groaned。 ‘‘Those lips are not for
me； accursed that I am。'' She was no longer looking at him； but sat
gazing straight ahead； her shoulders bent as if she were crouching to
receive a blow。 He began in a low voice； and； as he spoke； it rose or fell
as his words and the distant music prompted him。 ‘‘Mine has been a
luckless life；'' he said。 ‘‘I have been a football of destiny； kicked and
flung about； hither and yon。 Again and again I have thought in my
despair to lay me down and die。 But something has urged me on； on； on。
And at las
