University of Virginia Library

45. CHAPTER XLV.
THE QUADRUPLE ALLIANCE—DOWNFALL OF THE TYRANT.

The secretary was in the zenith of his glory. Hitherto
everything had prospered under his hands. His expectations
had been mostly realized, or seemed to be in the
process of realization.

He was standing in the centre of the most spacious
saloon of the fine mansion he had recently purchased, and
surrounded by many of the great men of the nation, for

whom he had prepared a princely entertainment. Experienced
statesmen had owned that Mallex possessed extraordinary
administrative talents; for, truly, he seemed to
comprehend the official duties of his position, and they were
promptly performed in all their details. The resolutions
of Congress were never neglected by him, and no important
information called for long delayed, as had been so frequently
the case with some of the other heads of departments.
A man of business himself, he was admirably calculated
to have the labours pertaining to his subordinates
efficiently performed. And while he kept his wheel of the
government in motion, he still found the time, and possessed
the capacity, to keep in active operation his own imperium
in imperio. Fawner, his most available instrument in the accomplishment
of his selfish projects, now spent much of his
time in the federal city. Very large sums had been repeatedly
realized by them in the award of government contracts; in
the bestowal of the printing; in commissions for the procurement
of appointments; and, above all, from foreign
manufacturers, to whom however, they failed to render the
equivalents which had been stipulated between them—but
there was no remedy, no means of coercing restitution.

Flushed with pecuniary success, flattered by the attentions
of the great politicians, and idolized by the multitude
of hungry seekers of office, the great man strode hither and
thither in his magnificent mansion, with a proud smile and
an undaunted brow.

As the evening wore on, however, and the hilarity of
his guests increased, the smile of the secretary gradually
faded away, for hitherto he had listened in vain for
the announcement of the name of the President. And as
he became grave, the corpse-like features of Fawner
seemed to relax, and to assume an unwonted animation.

“Be careful, Fawner!” said he, aside, when happening
to witness an outburst of exhilaration on the part of his
creature. “Beware of the wine. It has been known to
make even old men imprudently garrulous.”

“The older the man the more prudent the politician,
and the more careful the capitalist, if you please, sir. I
am older than you, sir; but not so rich.”

“Enough. But you are rich, nevertheless. Perhaps
too rich. The President is not here.”

“No, I haven't seen him.”

“You utterit lightly, and carelessly. Too rich, I fear,
Fawner. But he who creates may destroy. I say the President
is not here, and it is getting late.”

“Very true, sir.”

“It is undeniably true! Why don't he come?”

“Why don't he come? I wonder why he don't come!”

“Fawner, you are drunk! Drink no more wine.” Saying
this angrily, the great man, assuming an air of ease
which he could no longer feel, joined the favoured guests
he was so sumptuously entertaining.

Fawner had not tasted wine that night. And he knew
perfectly well why the President did not make his appearance
on the occasion.

The old man had been too long buffeted by “outrageous
fortune,” had too often lamented his impotent poverty, and
too ardently prayed for an accumulation of wealth, to run
the hazard of losing what he had acquired in his old age.
And having amassed already quite as much as he perceived
it was the intention and the policy of his patron to permit
him to accumulate, he had taken such measures to secure
his gains as his careful mind deemed to be effectual.

He had intimated to Eugene Bainton his purpose to
withdraw from the service of Mallex; and the suggestion
was not only cordially approved, but the confidence was
reciprocated on the part of Eugene by a declaration that
the strongest desire of his heart was to be likewise detached
from his partner. Even Radley, convinced that, separately,
he could never circumvent the superior mind of his employer,
and hence could never gain any considerable recompense
in his service, was taken into the consultation, under
the stipulated guarantee of an ample compensation in the
event of the success of the justifiable conspiracy. And
such, unquestionably, was the proper term. For it instantly
became apparent to them all, that to avoid being
involved in disaster by the machinations of Mallex, it was
indispensably necessary to compass his destruction. Overtures
were made to Persever, with the professed object of
accomplishing the great man's ruin, and subsequently of
an entire relinquishment of the estates of the Parkes.
Persever, being assured of the co-operation of Bainton and

Fawner, pledged himself to secrecy with the protestation
that his demands in favour of his client were legitimately
and justly founded. He could conscientiously co-operate
in the righteous scheme for the overthrow of the bold bad
man, and heartily promised to do so. He had already obtained,
by the efforts of Lucy, an imperfect narration of the
crimes of Mallex, so far as they had come to the knowledge
of Mrs. Sutly. The old hag merely suppressed her
agency in the murder of Daniel L. Parke; but she was
willing to depose that he had been murdered, and by
the direction of Mallex. The manner of the act she described
with some degree of vagueness and without circumstantiality.
This was shocking enough to her daughter,
and a startling revelation for Persever. But he was silent.
The elucidation of the mystery of the certificate of Dr.
Drastic, asserting positively that Ned Lorn Parke had
expired in the house of refuge, was the matter in which
he was the most immediately concerned. The wretched
woman declared that the boy who died, and whom she
represented to the doctor as Ned, had been lame for several
years, produced by an enormous enlargement of the knee
joint. And with this intelligence Persever had waited
upon Dr. Drastic, who admitted that he had made no
examination at the time, and further declared that if the
old matron's tale were true, it would be confirmed by an
exhumation of the body so carefully buried by the bankers.
Such were the items Persever was enabled to contribute to
the general stock of destructive material, which the enemies
of Mallex were preparing for his ruin. A sort of quadruple
treaty was signed by the four men, and henceforth they
were pledged to act in harmony. The claims of Susan
and Dick were alike withdrawn. And it was in persuance
of this policy that Persever had sent to Summerton for
Susan, to whom certain explanations were made, and who
readily, even in the absence of Ned—who was to be
directly benefited by the withdrawal of her claim—sanctioned
the arrangement. Dick, of course, was not consulted.
But he did not fail to inform Radley, almost
daily, that his witnesses were forgetting more and more
of their testimony, and that if the cakes were not hurried
up, all the advances that had been made him might be as
so much money thrown away.

When the last of the guests had departed from the
great cabinet minister's soiree, the perturbed secretary,
placing his hand rudely upon the shoulder of Fawner,
said —

“He was not here, sir!”

“Who do you mean?” asked Fawner, brusquely, and
at the same time extricating himself from the spasmodic
grasp of his patron.

“Who do I mean? The President, sir! Who do I
mean! If you were not sodden with wine, you would know
who I mean.”

“Am I responsible for his absence?” asked Fawner,
concealing the feeble smile that corrugated his thin lips.

“You should have known the cause. Have we not a
spy at his door? Why have you not seen him?” Fawner
remained silent; and Mallex continued, “But no matter.
He can know nothing. I know all of his intrigues. He
will not, he durst not, be openly hostile. Go, Fawner—
forget my harsh language. My mind is burdened too
much. There is something hatching against me in Philadelphia.
I suspect Radley. Tell Eugene to keep an eye
upon him. Go, Fawner; you have been almost stupified
by the wine. I forgive you. Come to the office at 10
o'clock to morrow. The chief clerk will not be an eves-dropper
again, nor shall Spring admit any of the lions to
frighten you. Good night. Take a Seidletz powder.”
Saying this the great man turned about and promenaded
the saloon alone, while Fawner glided over to the White
House, and obtained admission to the President, even in
his bedroom. The words spoken were few, but the President
decided upon his course. The servant whom Mallex
supposed to be his spy was called up; a sealed envelope,
without superscription, was placed in his hand; and he
was directed to deliver it to Mallex in person and without
a moment's delay. Fawner accompanied the messenger,
and waited at a distance in the obscurity of the darkness,
until he returned from the secretary's door, and assured
him that he had placed the envelope in the hands of the
secretary himself. Then the old man sought his lodgings
and slept soundly.

Mallex stood beneath a large chandelier and gazed at

the broad seal of the President. He tore open the envelope,
convulsively, and gazed upon a page of charges, to
which there was no signature attached. But he recognized
the hand-writing of the President.

The paper contained a long catalogue of his offences.
Of the bribes he had received; of the treacherous bargains
he had made with politicians and political writers for his
own elevation; of his secret efforts to defeat the measures
of the administration, even those he had approved in cabinet
council; of the removal of the President's sincere
supporters from office; of the appointment of his enemies;
and of his agency in the procurement of attacks upon his
colleagues, by members of Congress, and in the columns
of newspapers in the interest of the opposition. That
was all. There were no words of comment, no reproaches.
The catalogue of his offences in the hand-writing of the
President sufficed.

The paper fell from his hand. The blood rushed to his
head, and he fell prostrate and insensible on the floor.

Then one who had been watching him glided in noiselessly,
and tearfully bent over him. It was Tom—his
humpbacked son, who had been an inmate of his establishment
since the liberation of Mrs. Sutly from the prison-room
of his country mansion.

Tom applied restoratives, and strove to lift his heavy
parent from the floor.

“It is useless, Tom,” said Mallex, recovering. “You
are too weak. Put out some of the lights. The glare is
painful. Give me wine.”

Tom did his bidding.

“Tom!” continued the fallen secretary, his head propped
by cushions brought from a sofa, “I will soon recover.
Close the doors. We must not be seen by the servants.”

“They are all asleep,” said Tom.

“It is well. But we must not trust them. Trust nobody,
Tom—nobody, nobody, nobody! All, all are false, false,
false! I would not trust you, Tom, if you were not my
son. But what assurance have you of that fact? I will
make `assurance doubly sure.' Bring me pen, ink, and
paper. I am strong now!” he continued, rising, and approaching
a table, while Tom placed the writing materials

before him. He then wrote a full acknowledgment of his
son's legitimacy, and declaration that if he died without
other issue, Tom was to be his sole heir.

“Tom!” said he, “rouse up the coachman, O'Connor,
and bring him hither.” Tom obeyed in silence. “O'Connor,”
said the secretary, when the coachman appeared,
“behold me sign this instrument of writing. Now sign it
yourself, as a witness, and be ready at any time in future,
to swear it is genuine.”

The coachman obeyed, and then returned to his couch,
not at all astonished at anything done by his imperious
lord and master.

“Take it, Tom,” said Mallex. “Preserve it. It is
more complete than the former document signed by me.
Now I may rely upon your co-operation, at least in defeating
the devices of my enemies who would bring me to an
ignominious end. Fear not that I will lead you into
crime. You have seen its consequences, and may witness
more. You will profit by the lesson. But I—there is no
escape for me. I cannot restore the dead. I will not retrace
my steps—my march is onward!”

“You might be forgiven, sir,” said Tom, “if you sincerely—”

“What? Repented? I do repent! Or rather regret
the necessity that existed, or appeared to exist for the perpetration
of the crimes I have committed: but that does
no good. Repentance! No! Defiance is now the word!
But there is danger, Tom. If the old hag should fall into
the hands of my enemies, they might hang me, sir! Go
back to Philadelphia, and become a spy again—a double
spy. Convince them that you are my enemy, and that
will entitle you to their confidence. They will never suspect
you to be my son. Go! I will join you soon, and
then let them beware!”

Tom did not close his eyes during the remainder of the
night; and before the dawn of day was seated silently in
the cars among the passengers travelling northward.

The next day Mallex was seated in his office as usual,
with a calm brow, but determined aspect.

Spring came in and said Mr. Fawner awaited his
pleasure. By a motion he was directed to admit him.

When the shrivelled old creature of avarice appeared,
Mallex leaned back in his great chair and regarded him in
silence. He scrutinized his features and form from the
crown of his head to the sole of his foot, as an amateur
might examine a statue. And the old man withstood the
inspection without trepidation—for his investments had
been securely made.

“You are guilty!” at length said Mallex, in a deep, deliberate
intonation. “You have betrayed me. No one
else could have given the information. You are silent.
You do not deny it. Receive the reward of an ungrateful
traitor!” Mallex took a pistol from a drawer of the table
at his side, and cocking it, aimed at the heart of the old
man.

“If you kill me,” said the unmoved Fawner, “the report
of the pistol will be heard, and witnesses will rush in.
I was your instrument used for the destruction of others.
The knife has wounded your hand. Why not cast it away
from you and be done with it? Would it be wise to break
the blade, when its point would inevitably rebound into
your own heart?”

“No!” said Mallex, replacing the pistol. “You are
right. An old man for wisdom. I take your advice, in
part. I will spare your life, but I will not throw you
aside until I see you enclosed in the almshouse! That
will be the most terrible punishment. Why do you
smile?”

“We have discovered the manner of Daniel L. Parke's
death!” was the imperturbable reply. At this annunciation
the limbs of the huge villain trembled violently. His
chin fell, and a deathly pallor spread over his face.

“Radley, Bainton, Persever and myself—we all know
it,” continued Fawner.

“Am I to be arrested? Tried?”

“It will depend upon circumstances.”

“Name them! Name them!”

“Messenger from the President of the United States!”
cried Spring, throwing open the door and admitting the
man, who placed a note in the hands of the secretary. He
tore off the envelope, which covered two papers. One was
simply as follows—“We await your resignation.” The

other was the form of the resignation—attributing the determination
to urgent private affairs and ill health—and
both in the well known hand of the President.

Mallex took up a pen, and in silence signed his resignation,
sealed it, and handed it to the messenger, who withdrew.

“That you consent to the withdrawal of your partner
from the establishment in Philadelphia.'

“I consent.”

“That you make no opposition to the claim of Edward
Lorn Parke to the estates of his father and his deceased
uncle.”

“I will make none. But the money must be refunded
by Bainton.”

“That you will pay Radley's fee without question or
demurrer.”

“I will.”

“That you sign this paper, authorizing the three respectable
and responsible citizens therein named to settle
the affairs of the banking house, and other business in
which Mr. Bainton may be interested.”

“I will sign,” said Mallex, reading the paper. “My
share of the proceeds is to be rendered me, and the men
named are competent and trustworthy. But why should
agents be employed?”

“You will learn. These stipulations are our ultimatum.
We are all agreed.”

“I'll sign!” said Mallex. “Here, Spring, witness my
signature. You need not read it!” It was signed and
witnessed.

“Next, and finally,” said Fawner, when Spring had retired,
“you must agree to shut yourself up in your country
house, under the pretence of illness, and see nobody.”

“Nobody?”

“Dr. Castor may visit you, and you may have your
housekeeper, and Tom Denny.”

“Well. I see no objection to that. Castor will fill the
papers with rumours of a mental malady, which will blind
the public to the real cause of my retirement, and furnish
a plausible pretext for winding up my affairs. Is there
anything else?”

“Nothing from the allies. But this from me. For
many years I have performed the disreputable drudgery
assigned me. Taking advantage of my necessities, you
have led me into the commission of many grievous acts—
though not deadly crimes—sufficient to draw down upon
me the disapprobation of the congregation of which I was
a member. I intend to make my peace with the church,
and I warn you against throwing any obstacles in the way.
Hitherto I have been your obedient slave—hereafter I
shall be your master!”

“Good! Have you any further commands?”

“Yes. Send by telegraph for Dr. Castor, and accompany
him to the place of your future abode without
delay.”

“Your orders shall be obeyed, sir.” Mallex then arose,
and taking his hat, walked gravely, and still preserving
some show of official dignity, through the crowd of visitors
without, who were waiting to pay their respects to him. He
returned the respectful bows of such of the subordinate
functionaries of the government as he happened to meet
with on his way to his mansion; and none but those interested
in preserving the secret of his discomfiture, could
have supposed that any extraordinary occurrence had
transpired.

Arrived at his mansion, he threw himself upon his couch,
and despatched his coachman with the message which had
been dictated to him to the telegraph office, in literal obedience
of the order he had received from the treacherous
minion of his own creation.