11. CHAPTER XI.
“SHAW & CO.”
Mr. Gray understood sufficiently well that he
was expected to restore the shattered fortunes
of the once great firm of Shaw & Co. He was
not more astonished at the inner view vouchsafed
to him of the affairs of the firm than at
the means adopted forits restoration. Himself
utterly unknown, his law studies but irregularly
followed, with no prestige of name, he seemed
a weak support for a man of Mr. Shaw's
weight to lean upon.
But he went to work with a will. Pretty well
read in common law and tolerably familiar with
the statutes of the State, a few weeks under the
intelligent direction of Mr. Shaw enabled him
to pass a creditable examination, and he was
admitted a member of the San Francisco bar.
At the same time he took the aspiring Hopp's
place as the `Co.' of the firm.
Mr. Shaw's practice at this time was neither
large nor profitable. Mr. Hopp had drawn the
heaviest clients of the old firm to the firm with
which he formed an alliance. Mr. Shaw's habits
had impaired public confidence. He was still
regarded as a brilliant and powerful advocate,
but men with large interests at stake were afraid
to trust him.
There came also signs of pecuniary embarrassment.
Bills of long standing were urged
with provoking persistence. Mr. Shaw evidently
had no idea of the value of money. He used
it freely until he discovered there was none to
use, and then seemed rather surprised than annoyed.
He regarded a lack of funds as a kind
of joke of which his creditors were the victims.
If he did not complain at having no money to
pay, surely his creditors should not complain at
not being paid.
Mr. Gray gradually became the business man
as well as managing partner of the firm. He
carried the key of the safe, paid bills which could
not be deferred, gave Mr. Shaw such sums as
could be spared, and supplied his own more
modest wants
The equanimity of the senior partner was
never disturbed. He came to the office every
day, bright and smiling, glanced over the business
laid out for the day, and mastered details
as if by intuition. If money came in freely, he
received it graciously; if the cash box was
empty he extended his commiseration to his
creditors.
Meantime Mr. Gray worked night and day.
His perfect health enabled him for a time to
defy the laws of nature. He sought no relaxation,
made no acquaintances, and almost forgot
the very existence of Mliss.
One afternoon Mr. Gray sat in his own private
office, busily engaged at a case that was to be
called the next morning. Mr. Shaw was in his
private office also, busily engaged in sleeping
off the effects of a too frequent toning up of his
system. The office-boy had asked and obtained
a ten minutes' leave of absence, and had been
gone something more than an hour. The autumn
sun gilded the roofs of the tall buildings opposite
but within the shadows of evening were
gathering fast. The young man, wearied with
intense application, sat for a moment leaning
back in his large office-chair, his hands clasped
behind his head. The case under consideration
was of some importance, and from a successful
issue he looked for substantial results. He had
carefully examined every point, and so arranged
papers and authorities that fifteen minutes on
Mr. Shaw's part would enable that gentleman to
present the case in court. A sensation of unusual
weariness came over him. For once his
thoughts took a wider range than his will often
permitted, and carried him back to Smith's
Pocket. How calm and happy seemed those idle
days by contrst! What a fund of amusement
had the elfish Mliss afforded, and how pleasant
seemed the innocent coquetries of Clytie. Would
the latter bestow her soit glances on his successor?
Would Mliss—”
A light tapping at the door of the outer office
aroused him. Turning languidly in his chair he
beheld the figure of a slight but elegant woman
in the doorway, and encountered a pair of curious
but smiling eyes. The shadowy light in
which she stood did not reveal her features distinctly,
but the general effect was that of youth
and beauty.
“May I disturb you?” asked a clear and rather
imperious voice, in whose tone there was an
accent of mock humility, “to ask if Mr. Shaw
is in.”
“Mr. Shaw is not in,” replied Mr. Gray, employing
a harmless fiction by which much useless
explanation was avoided.
The lady hesitated a moment. Mr. Gray had
risen in deference to the sex of Mr. Shaw's visitor,
but stood in the attitude of one ready and
willing to bow that visitor out rather than persuade
her to enter. With the intuitive perception
of her sex the lady perceived this indifference
to a presence that rarely failed to produce
an impression, and perversely determined not to
be bowed out.
“Will Mr. Shaw return this evening do you
think?”
“Probably not. It is past his office hours.”
“Should I disturb you very much if I should
wait?”
“Not in the least,” and he placed a chair at
the window and invited her to a seat.
Mr. Gray resumed his seat and his work. He
knew perfectly well who had honored him with
a visit, but was rather vexed than flattered by
her manner of approach. So, without failing in
the courtesy due a stranger and a lady, he quietly
ignored her presence.
The visitor found waiting rather tedious. She
might have repelled an attempt at conversation,
but the attempt not being made she could not
repress a feeling of resentment at the want of
attention. The young man's quick ear caught
the soft but impatient tapping of a tiny foot on
the carpet, and the occasional click of a parasol.
He was not unprepared, therefore, for the
movement which brought her once more beforn
him.
“It is growing dark,” she said, a little petulantly,
as if he was the party to blame.
“Pardon me; since the sun was so inconsiderate
as to retire, I will light the gas.”
He took a match from the safe, lighted it,
turned on the gas, and in a moment the office
was flooded with a brilliant light.
It would have been an affectation of indifference
not to cast a glance upon the lady who
stood thus revealed. A lovelier girl he had
never seen. Just in the flush of youth, with a
woman's maturity of form, a woman's intelligence
in her eyes, a certain poise to her head
and grace of carriage which bespoke a lady accustomed
to the most refined society, she seemed
to combine in her person the two most charming
periods in the life of her sex—girlhood and
early womanhood.
But Mr. Gray was not in a humor to be charmed.
For six months this proud girl had ignored
his existence, when a friendly word would have
given him a world of courage for the unequal
strife in which he had been engaged. Nature
had so constracted him that he could not be deficient
in courtesy to a woman, but habit had
given him that supreme self control which enabled
him to repress the slightest sign of the
admiration that was justly her due.
The glimpse of a smile hovered for a moment
on the scarlet lips of the young girl as her eyes
met his. It was an approach to acquaintance
which quickly died away beneath his unresponsive
regard. She turned, biting her red lips, approached
the window and stood there looking
out into the street.
Five minutes thus passed. The young lawyer
seemed to find a volume of Supreme Court Reports
more entertaining than a contemplation of
youth and beauty. The young girl half-turned
her head, doubtless expecting to detect him in
a stealthy glance, but even this little triumph
was denied her. A handsome profile and the
side of a well-shaped head covered with dark
curly hair, was all of him that met her view.
Somehow her resentment vanished. The profile
was undeniably handsome; the man was
evidently a gentleman. She consoled herself
with the reflection that he might not be accustomed
to ladies' society, and that being alone
with her in his own office he was somewhat too
scrupulous not to offend.
At last, made bold by this reflection, she advanced
and stood by his side.
“Is that book so very entertaining?” she
asked.
“Yes; it has, for me, all the charm of fiction.”
“Will you lend it to me—sometime?”
“I will give you another copy to read while
you choose to remain.”
“Thank you, you are very kind.”
Mr. Gray arose and took from the library a
huge volume bound in calf and gravely approached
his companion. The young girl, with
a laugh dancing in her eyes, seated herself and
held out two little white hands somewhat as she
might had she been about to receive an infant.
Another five minutes passed. The young girl
read a page and then her pretty face was momentarily
distorted by a yawn. The productions
of the Supreme Court evidently did not
possess for her the charm of fiction. She lacked
patience for this kind of a contest. Rising a
last she dropped the volume on the table with a
thump and confronted her silent companion.
“I guess I'll go,” she said; “it's no use to
stay.”
“Mr. Shaw is not likely to return. Do you
wish me to tell him who called?”
“Yes; if you will.”
“Pardon me—your name?”
“My name?”
“If you wish me to tell Mr. Shaw who
called.”
“I am Miss Shaw.”
Mr. Gray gravely bowed his thanks, wrote the
name on a card and placed it on the rack.
“If you will remain a moment longer,” he
said, “I will call a carriage. It is late for you
to appear in the streets alone.”
“Thank you, sir. I am not the least afraid.”
She gave him a freezing bow, emphasized with
a look that would have transfixed a more vulnerable
man, and disappeared.
