The Golden Age of Pulp Fiction MEGAPACK ™, Vol. 1: George Allan England. George Allan England

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СКАЧАТЬ time passed, Cozzens waxed fat, Brant became powerful. Aalborg was forgotten by the world; and presently three years and seven months were gone. Then the prison gates swung open for him and he walked out—a man who had well served his purpose, a free man, with his debt to society all paid.

      Society, having long since dismissed him from its mind, gave him no slight­est heed. What is deader than dead news?

      Another question: Does all this mean our story is completely done? Not in the least, as we shall very presently see.

      V.

      Half a year after Aalborg’s release, Aalborg himself sent in his card to Dis­trict Attorney Coolidge Brant. The card read: “John Carl Enemark.” The visitor requested only a few words in private. Brant, expansive with pros­perity and power, bade the clerk usher Mr. Enemark into the private office.

      “Mr. Brant,” said the visitor, laying his hat and gloves on the glass-topped desk, “I did you a great favor, just a little more than five years ago. Your conviction of me was the first case that brought you prominently into the public eye. I am not overstating the facts when I say you are now district attorney because of that case. Do you remember me?”

      “Perfectly,” answered Brant, which was quite true. Vestine, Aalborg, Ene­mark—whatever you choose to call him—had not changed appreciably. He had grown a little higher in the fore­head, perhaps, where the hair had faded; had taken on a few pounds of flesh, and showed a fresher color, that was all. His clothes still were of the quiet blue with the faint vertical stripe, that he always wore. He looked content and well-to-do. Prosperity seemed to have knocked at his door and found that door open.

      “Are you amicably disposed toward me, Mr. Brant?” asked Vestine, for so we shall name him.

      “Sit down, please,” invited the dis­trict attorney with a smile.

      Vestine sat down, crossed one leg over the other, and waited.

      “Well?” asked Brant.

      “I still have a question before you, Mr. Brant. Are you amicable?”

      “Perfectly. To be frank with you, Mr.—er—Enemark, I’m sorry I couldn’t send you to the chair. I did my best to, and failed. That’s all part of the fortunes of war, and I hold no ill will. So long as you go straight, and break no laws, I bear no animus.”

      “Neither do I against you. I am planning to go back to Denmark in about a month. ‘My native country, thee,’ and all that sort of thing. Be­fore I start, I have a favor to ask of you.”

      “What is it?”

      “I want to get married.”

      Brant smiled and drummed his fin­gers on the desk.

      “That’s very laudable,” he answered. “Marriage is often an excellent asset to a man’s success and honesty.”

      “Quite so. Have I your permission to marry the young lady of my choice, under honorable conditions?”

      “Certainly! Why ask me?”

      “There’s a very special reason, Mr. Brant.”

      “Which is—”

      “She happens, at present, to be under indictment for forgery in this city, and out on bail. This forgery she com­mitted without my knowledge or con­sent, in a kind of moment of inadvert­ence, so to speak. Her bail is two thousand dollars. I’m her bondsman—indirectly. Well?”

      “Well?”

      “I want the indictment quashed and the bail bond returned. She could jump bail, easily enough, and I could afford to lose two thousand dollars without serious inconvenience. But that doesn’t suit my purpose. First, because two thousand dollars is really money; and second because forgery’s an extraditable offense, and I don’t intend to have my wife a fugitive from justice. There­fore, I’m asking you to do me this favor.”

      “Well, you are a cool one, I must say!” exclaimed the district attorney.

      “Very true. Will you arrange the matter for me?”

      “I like your nerve!”

      “I’m glad of that, Mr. Brant. It’s helped you before now. Please make a note of my fiancée’s case. It’s dock­eted as No. 327, for the spring term. And—”

      “Why, this is preposterous!” cried Brant, reaching for the push button. “Good day, sir!”

      “Wait,” smiled Vestine, gently push­ing back the other’s hand. “Suppose you refuse me, what then?”

      “Why—why—”

      “Imagine the disastrous effect on you, if the facts of my trial and convic­tion—the inside facts—should come out.”

      “What d’you mean?”

      “I mean,” answered Vestine, with not a trace of emotion, “that if you re­fuse me what I ask, I shall positively have to tell you the truth about your­self.”

      “What truth?”

      “Truth that you won’t want the op­position newspapers to get hold of. Will you quash the indictment?”

      “Certainly not!”

      Vestine sighed, as if with regret for Brant’s obstinacy.

      “Too bad,” said he. “You force me to disclose facts that might so easily have remained hidden. Facts that will forever destroy your peace of mind and your confidence in—well, in certain per­sons you might prefer to trust. Before I tell you, I ask again whether you will do what—”

      “Why, this is insanity! I should say not!”

      “It can all be done very quietly. ‘No bill’ is a formula covering a multitude of errors. And I am prepared to make restitution on the check forged by the young lady. Then away we go, back to Denmark, and all is merry as the tra­ditional marriage bell. What do you say, Mr. Brant?”

      “I say this interview is ended! And do you realize you’re trying to intimi­date me, to suborn justice? Do you know what the consequences of that may be to you?”

      “My dear Mr. Brant, pray listen to reason,” persisted Vestine. “I assisted you in your marital program, and brought happiness to your wife and you. Now I am asking a little recipro­cation, that’s all. In the name of your excellent wife, I beg you will allow another woman to become mine, free and clear.”

      “See here, Enemark, or whoever you are,” rapped out the district attorney, “we’re not going to discuss this any further. My wife’s name isn’t going to be dragged into any matter by a man who—”

      “Sh!” smiled the Dane imperturbably. “My good young man, I see you are one of those unfortunate beings who can’t be led, but must be driven. Well, then, on your own head be it. The fact is—”

      “I don’t want to hear your ‘facts!’ I’ve heard enough, had enough of you. I advise you to go, now, before—”

      “The СКАЧАТЬ