A Woman Intervenes by Robert Barr

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'Miss Brewster, how can I induce you not to send that from Queenstown to
your paper?'

The young woman looked up at him with a pleasant bright smile.

'Induce me? Why, you couldn't do it--it couldn't be done. This will be
one of the greatest triumphs I have ever achieved. Think of Rivers
failing in it, and me accomplishing it!'

'Yes; I have thought of that,' replied the young man despondently. 'Now,
perhaps you don't know that the full report was mailed from Ottawa to our
house in London, and the moment we get to Queenstown I will telegraph my
partners to put the report in the hands of the directors?'

'Oh, I know all about that,' replied Miss Brewster; 'Rivers told me. He
read the letter that was enclosed with the documents he took from your
friend. Now, have you made any calculations about this voyage?'

'Calculations? I don't know what you mean.'

'Well, I mean just this: We shall probably reach Queenstown on Saturday
afternoon. This report, making allowance for the difference in the time,
will appear in the _Argus_ on Sunday morning. Your telegram will reach
your house or your firm on Saturday night, when nothing can be done with
it. Sunday nothing can be done. Monday morning, before your report will
reach the directors, the substance of what has appeared in the _Argus_
will be in the financial papers, cabled over to London on Sunday night.
The first thing your directors will see of it will be in the London
financial papers on Monday morning. That's what I mean, Mr. Wentworth, by
calculating the voyage.'

Wentworth said no more. He staggered to his feet and made his way as best
he could to the state-room, groping like a blind man. There he sat down
with his head in his hands, and there his friend Kenyon found him.

CHAPTER IX.

'Tell me what has happened,' demanded John Kenyon.

Wentworth looked up at him.

'Everything has happened,' he answered.

'What do you mean, George? Are you ill? What is the matter with you?'

'I am worse than ill, John--a great deal worse than ill. I wish I
were ill.'

'That wouldn't help things, whatever is wrong. Come, wake up. Tell me
what the trouble is.'

'John, I am a fool--an ass--a gibbering idiot.'

'Admitting that, what then?'

'I trusted a woman--imbecile that I am; and now--now--I'm what you see
me.'

'Has--has Miss Brewster anything to do with it?' asked Kenyon
suspiciously.

'She has everything to do with it.'

'Has she--rejected you, George?'

'What! _that_ girl? Oh, you're the idiot now. Do you think I would
ask _her_?'

'I cannot be blamed for jumping at conclusions. You must remember "that
girl," as you call her, has had most of your company during this voyage;
and most of your good words when you were not with her. What _is_ the
matter? What has she to do with your trouble?'

Wentworth paced up and down the narrow limits of the state-room as if he
were caged. He smote his hand against his thigh, while Kenyon looked at
him in wonder.

'I don't know how I can tell you, John,' he said. 'I must, of course; but
I don't know how I can.'

'Come on deck with me.'

'Never.'

'Come out, I say, into the fresh air. It is stuffy here, and, besides,
there is more danger of being overheard in the state-room than on deck.
Come along, old fellow.'

He caught his companion by the arm, and partly dragged him out of the
room, closing the door behind him.

'Pull yourself together,' he said. 'A little fresh air will do you good.'

They made their way to the deck, and, linking arms, walked up and down.
For a long time Wentworth said nothing, and Kenyon had the tact to hold
his peace. Suddenly Wentworth noticed that they were pacing back and
forth in front of Miss Brewster, so he drew his friend away to another
part of the ship. After a few turns up and down, he said:

'You remember Rivers, of course.'

'Distinctly.'

'He was employed on that vile sheet, the _New York Argus_.'

'I suppose it is a vile sheet. I don't remember ever seeing it. Yes, I
know he was connected with that paper. What then? What has Miss Brewster
to do with Rivers?'

'She is one of the _Argus_ staff, too.'

'George Wentworth, you don't mean to tell me that!'

'I do.'

'And is she here to find out about the mine?'

'Exactly. She was put on the job after Rivers had failed.'

'George!' said Kenyon, suddenly dropping his companion's arm and facing
him. 'What have you told her?'

'There is the misery of it. I have told her everything.'

'My dear fellow, how could you be----'

'Oh, I know--I know! I know everything you would say. Everything you can
say I have said to myself, and ten times more and ten times worse. There
is nothing you can say of me more bitter than what I think about myself.'

'Did you tell her anything about _my_ report?'

'I told her everything--_everything_! Do you understand? She is going
to telegraph from Queenstown the full essence of the reports--of both
our reports.'

'Heavens! this is fearful. Is there no way to prevent her sending it?'

'If you think you can prevent her, I wish you would try it.'

'How did you find it out? Did _she_ tell you?'

'Oh, it doesn't matter how I found it out. I did find it out. A man told
me who she was; then I asked her, and she was perfectly frank about it.
She read me the report, even.'

'Read it to you?'

'Yes, read it to me, and punctuated it in my presence--put in some words
that I suggested as being better than those she had used. Oh, it was the
coolest piece of work you ever saw!'

'But there must be some way of preventing her getting that account to New
York in time. You see, all we have to do is to wire your people to hand
in our report to the directors, and then hers is forestalled. She has to
telegraph from a British office, and it seems to me that we could stop
her in some way.'

'As, for instance, how?'

'Oh, I don't know just how at the moment, but we ought to be able to do
it. If it were a man, we could have him arrested as a dynamiter or
something; but a woman, of course, is more difficult to deal with.
George, I would appeal to her better nature if I were you.'

Wentworth laughed sneeringly.

'Better nature?' he said. 'She hasn't any; and that is not the worst of
it. She has "calculated," as she calls it, all the possibilities in the
affair; she "calculates" that we will reach Queenstown about Saturday
night. If we do, she will get her report through in time to be
published on Sunday in the _New York Argus_. If that is the case, then
see where our telegram will be. We telegraph our people to send in the
report. It reaches the office Saturday night, and is not read. The
office closes at two o'clock; but even if they got it, and understood
the urgency of the matter, they could not place the papers before the
directors until Monday morning, and by Monday morning it will be in the
London financial sheets.'

'George, that woman is a fiend.'

'No, she isn't, John. She is merely a clever American journalist, who
thinks she has done a very good piece of work indeed, and who, through
the stupidity of one man, has succeeded, that's all.'

'Have you made any appeal to her at all?'

'Oh, haven't I! Of course I have. What good did it do? She merely laughed
at me. Don't you understand? That is what she is here for. Her whole
voyage is for that one purpose; and it's not likely the woman is going to
forego her triumph after having succeeded--more especially as somebody
else in the same office has failed. That's what gives additional zest to
what she has done. The fact that Rivers has failed and she has triumphed
seems to be the great feather in her cap.'

'Then,' said Kenyon, 'I'm going to appeal to Miss Brewster myself.'

'Very well. I wish you joy of your job. But do what you can, John,
there's a good fellow. Meanwhile, I want to be alone somewhere.'

Wentworth went down the stairway that led to the steerage department, and
for a few moments sat among the steerage passengers. Then he climbed up
another ladder, and got to the very front of the ship. Here he sat down
on a coil of rope, and thought over the situation. Thinking, however, did
him very little good. He realized that, even if he got hold of the paper
Miss Brewster had, she could easily write another. She had the facts in
her head, and all that she needed to do was to get to a telegraph office
and there hand in her message.

Meanwhile, Kenyon took a few turns up and down the deck, thinking deeply
on the same subject. He passed over to the side where Miss Brewster sat,
but on coming opposite her had not the courage to take his place beside
her. She was calmly reading her book. Three times he came opposite her,
paused for a moment, and then continued his hopeless march. He saw that
his courage was not going to be sufficient for the task, and yet he felt
the task must be accomplished. He didn't know how to begin. He didn't
know what inducement to offer the young woman for foregoing the fruits of
her ingenuity. He felt that this was the weak point in his armour. The
third time he paused in front of Miss Brewster; she looked up and
motioned him to the chair beside her, saying:

'I do not know you very well, Mr. Kenyon, but I know who you are. Won't
you sit down here for a moment?'

The bewildered man took the chair she indicated.

'Now, Mr. Kenyon, I know just what is troubling you. You have passed
three or four times wishing to sit down beside me, and yet afraid to
venture. Is that not true?'

'Quite true.'

'I knew it was. Now I know also what you have come for. Mr. Wentworth
has told you what the trouble is. He has told you that he has given me
all the particulars about the mines, hasn't he?'

'He has.'

'And he has gone off to his state-room to think over the matter, and has
left the affair in your hands, and you imagine you can come here to me
and, perhaps, talk me out of sending that despatch to the _Argus_. Isn't
that your motive?'

'That is about what I hope to be able to do,' said Kenyon, mopping his
brow.

'Well, I thought I might just as well put you out of your misery at once.
You take things very seriously, Mr. Kenyon--I can see that. Now, don't
you?'

'I am afraid I do.'

'Why, of course you do. The publication of this, as I told Mr. Wentworth,
will really not matter at all. It will not be any reflection on either of
you, because your friends will be sure that, if you had known to whom you
were talking, you would never have said anything about the mines.'

Kenyon smiled grimly at this piece of comfort.

'Now, I have been thinking about something since Mr. Wentworth went away.
I am really very sorry for him. I am more sorry than I can tell.'

'Then,' said Kenyon eagerly, 'won't you----'

'No, I won't, so we needn't recur to that phase of the subject. That is
what I am here for, and, no matter what you say, the despatch is going to
be sent. Now, it is better to understand that at the first, and then it
will create no trouble afterwards. Don't you think that is the best?'

'Probably,' answered the wretched man.

'Well, then, let us start there. I will say in the cablegram that the
information comes from neither Mr. Kenyon nor Mr. Wentworth.'

'Yes, but that wouldn't be true.'

'Why, of course it wouldn't be true; but that doesn't matter, does it?'

'Well, on our side of the water,' said Kenyon, 'we think the truth
does matter.'

Miss Brewster laughed heartily.

'Dear me!' she said, 'what little tact you have! How does it concern you
whether it is true or not? If there is any falsehood, it is not you who
tell it, so you are free from all blame. Indeed, you are free from all
blame anyhow, in this affair; it is all your friend Wentworth's fault;
but still, if it hadn't been Wentworth, it would have been you.'

Kenyon looked up at her incredulously.

'Oh yes, it would,' she said, nodding confidently at him. 'You must not
flatter yourself, because Mr. Wentworth told me everything about it, that
you wouldn't have done just the same, if I had had to find it out from
you. All men are pretty much alike where women are concerned.'

'Can I say nothing to you, Miss Brewster, which will keep you from
sending the message to America?'

'You cannot, Mr. Kenyon. I thought we had settled that at the beginning.
I see there is no use talking to you. I will return to my book, which is
very interesting. Good-morning, Mr. Kenyon.'

Kenyon felt the hopelessness of his project quite as much as Wentworth
had done, and, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, he wandered
disconsolately up and down the deck.

As he went to the other side of the deck, he met Miss Longworth walking
alone. She smiled a cordial welcome to him, so he turned and changed his
step to suit hers.

'May I walk with you a few minutes?' he said.

'Of course you may,' was the reply, 'What is the matter? You are looking
very unhappy.'

'My comrade and myself are in great trouble, and I thought I should like
to talk with you about it.'

'I am sure if there is anything I can do to help you, I shall be most
glad to do it.'

'Perhaps you may suggest something. You see, two men dealing with one
woman are perfectly helpless.'

'Ah, who is the one woman--not I, is it?'

'No, not you, Miss Longworth. I wish it were, then we would have no
trouble.'

'Oh, thank you!'

'You see, it is like this: When we were in Quebec--I think I told you
about that--the _New York Argus_ sent a man to find out what we had
reported, or were going to report, to the London Syndicate.'

'Yes, you told me that.'

'Rivers was his name. Well, this same paper, finding that Rivers had
failed after having stolen the documents, has tried a much more subtle
scheme, which promises to be successful. They have put on board this ship
a young woman who has gained a reputation for learning secrets not
intended for the public. This young woman is Miss Brewster, who sits next
Wentworth at the table. Fate seems to have played right into her hand
and placed her beside him. They became acquainted, and, unfortunately, my
friend has told her a great deal about the mines, which she professed an
interest in. Or, rather, she pretended to have an interest in him, and so
he spoke, being, of course, off his guard. There is no more careful
fellow in the world than George Wentworth, but a man does not expect that
a private conversation with a lady will ever appear in a newspaper.'

'Naturally not.'

'Very well, that is the state of things. In some manner Wentworth came to
know that this young woman was the special correspondent of the _New York
Argus_. He spoke to her about it, and she is perfectly frank in saying
she is here solely for the purpose of finding out what the reports will
be, and that the moment she gets to Queenstown she will cable what she
has discovered to New York.'

'Dear me! that is very perplexing. What have you done?'

'We have done nothing so far, or rather, I should say, we have tried
everything we could think of, and have accomplished nothing. Wentworth
has appealed to her, and I made a clumsy attempt at an appeal also, but
it was of no use. I feel my own helplessness in this matter, and
Wentworth is completely broken down over it.'

'Poor fellow! I am sure of that. Let me think a moment.'

They walked up and down the deck in silence for a few minutes. Then Miss
Longworth looked up at Kenyon, and said;

'Will you place this matter in my hands?'

'Certainly, if you will be so kind as to take any interest in it.'

'I take a great deal of interest. Of course, you know my father is deeply
concerned in it also, so I am acting in a measure for him.'

'Have you any plan?'

'Yes; my plan is simply this: The young woman is working for money; now,
if we can offer her more than her paper gives, she will very quickly
accept, or I am much mistaken in the kind of woman she is.'

'Ah, yes,' said Kenyon; 'but we haven't the money, you see.'

'Never mind; the money will be quickly forthcoming. Don't trouble any
more about it. I am sure that can be arranged.'

Kenyon thanked her, looking his gratitude rather than speaking it, for
he was an unready man, and she bade him good-bye until she could think
over her plan.

That evening there was a tap at the state-room door of Miss Jennie
Brewster.

'Come in,' cried the occupant.

Miss Longworth entered, and the occupant of the room looked up, with a
frown, from her writing.

'May I have a few moments' conversation with you?' asked the visitor
gravely.

CHAPTER X.

Miss Jennie Brewster was very much annoyed at being interrupted, and she
took no pains to conceal her feelings. She was writing an article
entitled 'How People kill Time on Shipboard,' and she did not wish to be
disturbed; besides, as she often said of herself, she was not 'a woman's
woman,' and she neither liked, nor was liked by, her own sex.

'I desire a few moments' conversation with you, if I have your
permission,' said Edith Longworth, as she closed the door behind her.

'Certainly,' answered Jennie Brewster. 'Will you sit down?'

'Thank you,' replied the other, as she took a seat on the sofa. 'I do not
know just how to begin what I wish to say. Perhaps it will be better to
commence by telling you that I know why you are on board this steamer.'

'Yes; and why am I on board the steamer, may I ask?'

'You are here, I understand, to get certain information from Mr.
Wentworth. You have obtained it, and it is in reference to this that I
have come to see you.'

'Indeed! and are you so friendly with Mr. Wentworth that you----'

'I scarcely know Mr. Wentworth at all.'

'Then, why do you come on a mission from him?'

'It is not a mission from him. It is not a mission from anyone. I was
speaking to Mr. Kenyon, or, rather, Mr. Kenyon was speaking to me, about
a subject which troubled him greatly. It is a subject in which my father
is interested. My father is a member of the London Syndicate, and he
naturally would not desire to have your intended cable message sent to
New York.'

'Really; are you quite sure that you are not speaking less for your
father than for your friend Kenyon?'

Anger burned in Miss Longworth's face, and flashed from her eyes as
she answered:

'You must not speak to me in that way.'

'Excuse me, I shall speak to you in just the way I please. I did not ask
for this conference; you did, and as you have taken it upon yourself to
come into this room uninvited, you will have to put up with what you
hear. Those who interfere with other people's business, as a general
thing, do not have a nice time.'

'I quite appreciated all the possible disagreeableness of coming here,
when I came.'

'I am glad of that, because if you hear anything you do not like, you
will not be disappointed, and will have only yourself to thank for it.'

'I would like to talk about this matter in a spirit of friendliness if I
can. I think nothing is to be attained by speaking in any other way.'

'Very well, then. What excuse have you to give me for coming into my
state-room to talk about business which does not concern you?'

'Miss Brewster, it _does_ concern me--it concerns my father, and that
concerns me. I am, in a measure, my father's private secretary, and am
intimately acquainted with all the business he has in hand. This
particular business is his affair, and therefore mine. That is the reason
I am here.'

'Are you sure?'

'Am I sure of what?'

'Are you sure that what you say is true?'

'I am not in the habit of speaking anything but the truth.'

'Perhaps you flatter yourself that is the case, but it does not deceive
me. You merely come here because Mr. Kenyon is in a muddle about what I
am going to do. Isn't that the reason?'

Miss Longworth saw that her task was going to be even harder than she
had expected.

'Suppose we let all question of motive rest? I have come here--I have
asked your permission to speak on this subject, and you have given me the
permission. Having done so, it seems to me you should hear me out. You
say that I should not be offended----'

'I didn't say so. I do not care a rap whether you are offended or not.'

'You at least said I might hear something that would not be pleasant.
What I wanted to say is this: I have taken the risk of that, and, as you
remark, whether I am offended or not does not matter. Now we will come to
the point----'

'Just before you come to the point, please let me know if Mr. Kenyon told
you he had spoken to me on this subject already.'

'Yes, he told me so.'

'Did he tell you that his friend Wentworth had also had a conversation
with me about it?'

'Yes, he told me that also.'

'Very well, then, if those two men can do nothing to shake my purpose,
how do you expect to do it?'

'That is what I am about to tell you. This is a commercial world, and I
am a commercial man's daughter. I recognise the fact that you are going
to cable this information for the money it brings. Is that not the case?'

'It is partly the case.'

'For what other consideration do you work, then?'

'For the consideration of being known as one of the best newspaper women
in the city of New York. That is the other consideration.'

'I understood you were already known as the most noted newspaper woman in
New York.'

This remark was much more diplomatic than Miss Longworth herself
suspected.

Jennie Brewster looked rather pleased, then she said:

'Oh, I don't know about that; but I intend it shall be so before a
year is past.'

'Very well, you have plenty of time to accomplish your object without
using the information you have obtained on board this ship. Now, as I was
saying, the _New York Argus_ pays you a certain amount for doing this
work. If you will promise not to send the report over to that paper, I
will give you a cheque for double the sum the _Argus_ will pay you,
besides refunding all your expenses twice over.'

'In other words, you ask me to be bribed and refuse to perform my duty to
the paper.'

'It isn't bribery. I merely pay you, or will pay you, double what you
will receive from that paper. I presume your connection with it is purely
commercial. You work for it because you receive a certain amount of
money; if the editor found someone who would do the same work cheaper, he
would at once employ that person, and your services would be no longer
required. Is that not true?'

'Yes, it is true.'

'Very well, then, the question of duty hardly enters into such a compact.
They have sent you on what would be to most people a very difficult
mission. You have succeeded. You have, therefore, in your possession
something to sell. The New York paper will pay you a certain sum in cash
for it. I offer you, for the same article, double the price the _New York
Argus_ will pay you. Is not that a fair offer?'

Jennie Brewster had arisen. She clasped and unclasped her hands
nervously. For a small space of time nothing was said, and Edith
Longworth imagined she had gained her point. The woman standing looked
down at the woman sitting.

'Do you know all the particulars about the attempt to get this
information?' asked Miss Brewster.

'I know some of them. What particulars do you mean?'

'Do you know that a man from the _Argus_ tried to get this information
from Mr. Kenyon and Mr. Wentworth in Canada?'

'Yes; I know about that.'

'Do you know that he stole the reports, and that they were taken from him
before he could use them?'

'Yes.'

'Do you know he offered Mr. Kenyon and Mr. Wentworth double the price the
London Syndicate would have paid them, on condition they gave him a
synopsis of the reports?'

'Yes, I know that also.'

'Do you know that, in doing what he asked, they would not have been
keeping back for a single day the real report from the people who engaged
them? You know all that, do you?'

'Yes; I know all that.'

'Very well, then. Now you ask me to do very much more than Rivers asked
them, because you ask me to keep my paper completely in the dark about
the information I have got. Isn't that so?'

'Yes, you can keep them in the dark until after the report has been given
to the directors; then, of course, you can do what you please with the
information.'

'Ah, but by that time it will be of no value. By that time it will have
been published in the London financial papers. At that time anybody can
get it. Isn't that the case?'

'I suppose so.'

'Now, I want to ask you one other question, Miss--Miss--I don't think you
told me your name.'

'My name is Edith Longworth.'

'Very well, Miss Longworth. I want to ask you one more question. What do
you think of the conduct of Mr. Kenyon and Mr. Wentworth in refusing to
take double what they had been promised for making the report?'

'What do I think of them?' repeated the girl.

'Yes; what do you think of them? You hesitate. You realize that you are
in a corner. You think Mr. Wentworth and Mr. Kenyon did very nobly in
refusing Rivers' offer?'

'Of course I do.'

'So do I. I think they acted rightly, and did as honourable men should
do. Now, when you think that, Miss Longworth, how dare you come and offer
me double, or three times, or four times, the amount my paper gives to me
for getting this information? Do you think that I am any less honourable
than Kenyon or Wentworth? Your offer is an insult to me; nobody but a
woman, and a woman of your class, would have made it. Kenyon wouldn't
have made it. Wentworth wouldn't have made it. You come here to bribe
me. You come here to do exactly what J. K. Rivers tried to do for the
_Argus_ in Canada. You think money will purchase anything--that is the
thought of all your class. Now, I want you to understand that I am a
woman of the people. I was born and brought up in poverty in New York.
You were born and brought up amid luxury in London. I have suffered
privation and hardships that you know nothing of, and, even if you read
about them, you wouldn't understand. You, with the impudence of your
class, think you can come to me and bribe me to betray my employer. I am
here to do a certain thing, and I am going to do that certain thing in
spite of all the money that all the Longworths ever possessed, or ever
will possess. Do I make myself sufficiently plain?'

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