He was on the verge of a big step — the adventure of his career. A secret blazed in his brain and the knowledge that no one shared that secret in its entirety was thrilling knowledge. He felt like a minor god, with power over the lives of others. He looked down the table.
There was Vi Dawson, a sweet child in her way and quite pretty. He felt a little bit sorry for her because the girl would probably have to bear the brunt of her aunt’s peevishness when this business was done. He didn’t envy her the experience.
“But Cooper will probably marry her,” he thought. “A good man, Cooper.”
He smiled smugly. Next to the satisfaction that he felt over breaking free from the thralldom of his sister, Emily, he was most pleased over the fact that he was going to put one over on Cooper. Cooper had been right too often in the past. It would be good to surprise him, to shock him and to see the consternation on his face.
“Cooper will probably catch hell from little Vivian, too. Unless I miss my guess, that business of his down town had something to do with me. Vivian would like to keep me safely on ice till Emily gets back from the hospital.”
His eyes glittered. He felt a hard pounding under his ribs, the speeded action of his heart that always accompanied waves of hatred. The mere thought of Emily Weller was enough to make his heart hammer.
Two years older than himself, she had always dominated him. She was invincibly right on everything; an irresistible force, that would brook no obstacle when she was moving toward an objective — and an immovable object when she settled down to block a project that she did not approve. True, she was a strong character. She had shared his lean days and she had worked tirelessly in the face of many defeats. She had steered his career over many a treacherous social reef and she had saved him a score of times from making an imperishable fool of himself.
He granted her everything that she was and everything that she had been — and still he hated her. He had hated her for years and she didn’t know. He had played the hypocrite with her — the loving and appreciative brother — because he lacked the courage to force an issue. For his own hypocrisy, he hated her.
“If I were free, I would be different.”
He had said that often when feelings of personal inferiority goaded him. He changed that refrain now to “When I am free,” and his soul soared. He was going to avenge himself on them all — on those who had been right when he had been wrong and who had made him feel inferior with their rightness. He would be nobody’s man, nobody’s creation, nobody’s responsibility. At the same time, he would assume no responsibility for anyone else. He was looking at his brother, Tim, from beneath narrowed lids.
Tim, too, had always been an irritation. Tim never forgot that he was the eldest of the family. Showing his age noticeably and far less active than Bradford, Tim had still retained his ego; dismissing with a snort the things which he personally did not approve; refusing to argue and standing pat on the fact that, politically, Bradford Weller was his own creation, his own special protegé — the man whom he had boosted and coaxed and jockeyed into the senate and into political power.
The fact that Bradford Weller knew himself for a pawn that his brother had moved made his resentment deeper. He walked in his brother’s shadow, even now when long years led back to the day when Tim Weller’s name had meant anything by itself.
Bradford Weller had his own reputation but he could not forget that the reputation had been made for him, given to him.
There had been times when his stomach had rolled and he had turned sick with thoughts like these. But not tonight! Tonight he would break them all upon the shock of his surprise.
All? No. He looked at Mildred Harney and his expression softened. She wore soft blue tonight and there was heaven in a color like that when the woman who wore it had hair that formed a golden aureole about her head. He would not break her. He would never break her or hurt her. She was his recompense for long years of inferiority and his reward for the bold stroke that would end those years.
With the thought, the senator was young again. The years dropped from him. He was no longer a veteran of the political arena with a governorship and two senate terms behind him; he was a man who had won the love of a glorious golden woman.
Dinner was over; a meal so smoothly and effortlessly served by the faultless Hito that one was not aware of service at all. The senator looked around the table.
“I would like to see you all in my study within the next ten minutes,” he said.
He rose and Mildred Harney was beside him. Her hand rested lightly, caressingly, on his arm. He looked down into her eyes and was conscious of a wave of excitement. Her eyes were ice blue and yet, in the depths, he saw a warm glowing spark. He laid his hand over hers and liked the softness of the contact.
The others were taking his “ten minutes” provision literally, so he walked on to the study with the girl. The grim-visaged Mike Deshler was on guard before the door. The senator nodded to him.
“Come in after the others do,” he said. “I will want you.”
Mike Deshler touched his forehead with two fingers in a rough salute. The senator unlocked the study door and clicked the switch which controlled the wall bracket lights. They were soft lights and did not emphasize the mark of the years upon his face. He could see himself in the mirror over the mantel and in tailcoat and white tie, he looked taller than his five feet ten. His wig had cost him a thousand dollars in Paris and not even an expert could tell that it was not his own hair. He had been careful, too, about his teeth. When his upper plate was made, he had had the dentist put gold crowns on two of the teeth and fillings in three of the others. His own teeth had not looked more real.
He squared his shoulders and turned to the girl. “You still believe in me, Mildred?” he said softly.
Her fingers tightened on his forearm and her face lifted to his. “You know I do, Bradford,” she said. “In everything.”
He squeezed her fingers and released her. “Give me your support tonight,” he said. “After that...”
There was a promise in his voice and she smiled back at him. He looked at his old-fashioned safe in the corner of the room and then at the two boxes beside Cooper’s desk. A chuckle rose in his throat. He rubbed his hands together and went behind his desk. Mildred Harney sat down and stretched her legs straight out before her.
The door opened and Tim Weller came in. Tim was a six-footer, a bony-faced man with sunken eyes that glowed as cleanly as the eyes of a young man. He had never had much to do with dentists and the few teeth that he had left were discolored. He was biting a cigar with them now and looking at his brother from under bushy gray brows. Bradford Weller did not meet that questing regard.
Greg Cooper and Vi Dawson had stopped outside the dining room door.
“I’m a silly person, Greg, and bad company and hard to get along with and—”
“And a nail biter, a fireplug parker, an eater of hot dogs with soda pop and—”
“Stop! I’m serious. I know when I’m dreadful. But Greg, I’m worried and scared and I can’t help myself. All of that money in the house means trouble and Uncle Brad isn’t himself. You won’t let me down, Greg. You won’t let him be swindled or—”
“I gave you a promise, Vi.”
“I know.”
They went down the hall together. The senator watched them come in with a cynical smile on his lips. It was a newly developed theory of his that the young neither felt nor understood the true meaning of love. Young emotions, he felt, were essentially shallow, subject to too many future stresses which they probably would not survive. Only rich maturity could know the full flower of love. He looked at Mildred Harney and his shoulders unconsciously squared. Mike Deshler and Hito had come in. He had his full audience.