The Mystery of the Sycamore

“But need you subscribe to the objectionable points to use your influence for young Sam?”

“Tacitly, of course. And I do not choose even to appear to agree to principles abhorrent to my sense of justice and honesty, thereby secretly gaining something for myself.”

“Meaning your full pardon?”

Wheeler turned a look of surprise on the speaker.

“I thought you said you hadn’t Appleby’s full confidence,” he said.

“Nor have I. I do know – as do many men – that you were pardoned with a condition, but the condition I do not know. It can’t be very galling.” And Keefe looked about on the pleasant surroundings.

“You think not? That’s because you don’t know the terms. And yet, galling though they are, hateful though it makes my life, and the lives of my wife and daughter, we would all rather bear it than to deviate one iota from the path of strict right.”

“I must admire you for that, as must any honorable man. But are there not degrees or shadings of right and wrong – ”

“Mr. Keefe, as an old man, I take the privilege of advising you for your own good. All through your life I beg you remember this: Anyone who admits degrees or shadings of right or wrong – is already wrong. Don’t be offended; you didn’t claim those things, you merely asked the question. But, remember what I said about it.”

CHAPTER III

ONE LAST ARGUMENT

Adjoining the bedroom of Samuel Appleby at Sycamore Ridge was a small sitting-room, also at his disposal. Here, later that same evening he sat in confab with his two assistants.

“We leave to-morrow afternoon,” he said to Keefe and Miss Lane. “But before that, we’ve much to do. So far, we’ve accomplished nothing. I am a little discouraged but not disheartened. I still have a trump card to play, but I don’t want to use it unless absolutely necessary.”

“If you were inclined to take us further into your confidence, Mr. Appleby,” Keefe began, and the older man interrupted:

“That’s just what I propose to do. The time has come for it. Perhaps if you both know the situation you may work more intelligently.”

“Sure we could!” exclaimed Genevieve. She was leaning forward in her chair, clasping her knees, her pretty evening frock disclosing her babyishly soft neck and arms; but without a trace of self-consciousness, she thought only of the subject they were discussing.

“There’s something queer,” she went on. “I can’t see through it. Why does Mr. Wheeler act so polite most of the time, and then do some outrageous thing, like – ”

“Like what?”

“Like refusing to cross the room – or – why, he declined point-blank to go with me to the north arbor, yet was perfectly willing to take me to the Japanese tea-house!”

“That’s just the point of the whole thing,” said Appleby, seriously; “here’s the explanation in a nutshell. Years ago, Daniel Wheeler was pardoned for a crime he had committed – ”

“He did commit it, then?” interrupted Keefe.

“He was tried and convicted. He was sentenced. And I, being governor at the time, pardoned him on the one condition, that he never again set foot inside the boundaries of the State of Massachusetts.”

“Whee!” exclaimed Genevieve; “never go to Boston!”

“Nor anywhere else in the state. But this is the complication: Mrs. Wheeler, who is, by the way, a distant connection of my own family, inherited a large fortune on condition that she live in Massachusetts. So you see, the situation was peculiar. To keep her inheritance, Mrs. Wheeler must live in Massachusetts. Yet Mr. Wheeler could not enter the state without forfeiting his pardon.”

“What a mess!” cried Genevieve, but Keefe said: “You planned that purposely, Mr. Appleby?”

“Of course,” was the straightforward reply.

“Then I don’t see how you can expect Mr. Wheeler’s help in the campaign.”

“By offering him a complete pardon, of course.”

“But go on with the story,” demanded Genevieve. “What did they do about the Massachusetts business?”

“As you see,” returned Appleby, “this house is built on the state line between Massachusetts and Connecticut. It is carefully planned and built, and all the rooms or parts of rooms that Mr. Wheeler uses or enters are on the Connecticut side, yet the house is more than half in Massachusetts, which secures the estate to Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Well, I never!” Genevieve exclaimed. “So that’s why he can’t go to the north arbor – it’s in Massachusetts!”

“Of course it is. Also, he never goes into the northern end of the dining-room or the living-room.”

“Or hall.”

“Or hall. In fact, he merely is careful to keep on his own side of a definitely drawn line, and therefore complies with the restrictions. His den and his own bedroom and bath are all on the south side, while Mrs. Wheeler has a sitting-room, boudoir, and so forth, on the north side. She and Maida can go all over the house, but Mr. Wheeler is restricted. However, they’ve lived that way so long, it has become second nature to them, and nobody bothers much about it.”

“Do people know?” asked Keefe. “The neighbors, I mean.”

“Oh, yes; but, as I say, it makes little confusion. The trouble comes, as Miss Lane suggested, when Wheeler wants to go to Boston or anywhere in Massachusetts.”

“Yet that is a small thing, compared with his freedom,” observed Keefe; “I think he got off easy.”

“But with Wheeler it isn’t so much the deprivation as the stigma. He longs for a full pardon, and would do most anything to have it, but he refuses to stand for Sam’s election, even with that for a bribe.”

“You can’t pardon him now that you aren’t governor, can you, Mr. Appleby?” asked Genevieve.

“I can arrange to have it done. In fact, the present governor is ready and even anxious to pardon him, but I hold the key to that situation, myself. You two needn’t know all the details, but now you know the principal points, and I expect you to utilize them.”

“I’m willing enough,” and Genevieve rocked back and forth thoughtfully, “and I may think of a way – but, for the moment, I don’t.”

“Get chummy with Maida,” suggested Appleby.

“Let me do that,” Keefe interrupted. “Without undue conceit, I believe I can influence the young lady, and I think Miss Lane, now that she knows the truth, can jolly up Mr. Wheeler to good effect.”

“But, good gracious! What do you want to do?” and Genevieve giggled. “Say I entice the old gentleman over the line – then his pardon is canceled and he’s a criminal – then you agree to ignore the lapse if he meets your wishes – is that the idea?”

Appleby smiled. “A little crude, Miss Lane. And beside, you couldn’t get him over the line. He’s too accustomed to his limitations to be caught napping, and not even your charms could decoy him over intentionally.”

“Think so? Probably you’re right. Well, suppose I try to work through Maida. If I could persuade Mr. Wheeler that she suffers from the stigma of her father’s incomplete pardon – ”

“Yes, that’s it. This thing can’t be accomplished by brutal threats, it must be done by subtle suggestion and convincing hints.”

“That’s my idea,” agreed Keefe. “If I can talk straight goods to Miss Wheeler and make her see how much better it would be for her father in his latter years to be freed from all touch of the past disgrace, she might coax him to listen to you.”

“That’s right. Now, you know what you’re here for; just do what you can – but don’t make a mess of things. I’d rather you did nothing than to do some fool thing!”

“Trust us!” Genevieve encouraged him, as she rose. “Me and Curt may not put over a big deal, but we won’t do anything silly.”