Seed on the Wind

“No? Me, I never do. As for your courage — well, courage is merely the absence of fear, and you may as well know that there I’m your master. I’m not afraid of death or prison or ignominy or any torture you could devise. I do not even fear the loss of my reputation — for a most excellent reason. No, I’m sorry, your little threat is so puny that I regret having taken the trouble to laugh at it.” Suddenly he frowned, and his mouth twisted. He went on in a different tone, “Look here, Mr. Kane, there’s no use cutting any deeper. Let’s get it over. You can’t scare me out. To be frank, I don’t know what the hell I’ll do with fifty thousand dollars, but I’ll take a chance on my ingenuity. You see, I didn’t start this affair. The paper I worked for, like its competitors, has an informal intelligence service which is constantly on the lookout for items of news that will further its efforts to educate the masses in the various aspects of modern life. But for this laudable enterprise the people would remain grossly ignorant of many salient points in the careers of prizefighters, chorus girls, bankers, politicians and pimps. A few weeks ago I was admitted to a discussion of a new and especially juicy item just dug up by one of our research workers, and naturally I was peculiarly interested when I learned the name of the woman chiefly concerned. I came out here to the charming village of Maidstone and unobtrusively established the identity. Like all investigations of this nature, we did it thoroughly. We learned the names of the fathers of the four children. We got dates and addresses, with hardly a gap. We took pictures of everyone involved, without their knowledge in all cases but one; Mr. Scher nearly smashed a camera in Washington Square last week. We sent an agent to the woman’s childhood home, where he secured items of great interest — among others the details of the father’s suicide the day after his daughter departed, many years ago, under peculiar and suspicious circumstances. He found her childhood chum in Chicago and interviewed her — a Mrs. Ogilvy, formerly Miss Cecelia Harper—”

He stopped abruptly, looking at Lora, who had half risen from her chair and then dropped back into it. She was staring at Pete with her mouth open; her face looked vacant and stupid, not like herself at all. Lewis, following Pete’s glance, was looking at her too.

“My father. You said...” she stammered.

“Sure. Shot himself the day after you left.” He leaned forward to peer at her, looking suddenly astonished and incredulous. “Good god, don’t tell me you didn’t know! Preposterous! You must have known. As long ago as that...”

Lora was leaning back in her chair again, her mouth closed, her lips pressed tight together. She shook her head with a faint sidewise movement, and kept on shaking it, saying nothing.

“That’s about enough, don’t you think?” said Lewis Kane.

Lora could see Pete grinning with his mouth crooked.

“My infallible luck,” he said. “What do you mean it’s about enough? I arranged it I suppose. Ha, there’s only one time it’s enough, when you quit breathing for good, then it’s plenty. Mr. Leroy Winter had enough apparently, but you and Lora and me, hell, we’ve no end of fun to look forward to. It makes me maudlin just to think of it. To continue: you understand that all this was the enterprise of my paper, admittedly a public servant, not mine. It was entrusted to my charge at my own request — my first major operation, for I’m a comparatively new hand. So it was within my power to convey to you an offer of personal cooperation; and by the way, you would have done well to accept it offhand. That might easily have aroused my admiration and sympathy; they’re on a hair-trigger as Lora will tell you; it would probably have saved you a lot of money. But you insulted my pride; you got me fired from my job; my dander rose; and there’s nothing doing. You know my terms, and I’m ready to close.”

Lewis had got up from his chair and was standing with his back to the fire, looking down at Lora. She did not return his gaze; she sat motionless with her eyes still on Pete.

“I’m sorry I brought him, Lora,” he said. “Forgive me. I thought you should be consulted...”

She turned her head to glance at him. “What?”

“I say, I thought you should be consulted.”

She nodded. “I suppose so. What are you going to do?”

“That’s what I’m asking you. What do you want me to do?”

“How can I decide?” she said. “I have no money to give him. I don’t care anyway. What about you? I don’t care.”

He turned to Pete. “Of course fifty thousand dollars is out of the question. Even if I had it. I’ll tell you what I’ll do, I’ll give you ten thousand in cash tomorrow morning if you can furnish satisfactory assurance that that will be the end of it.”

“I said nothing doing.”

“Take it or leave it.”