The Green Box

CHAPTER V THE DEAL

AT eight o’clock that evening, one of the trim Southfield taxicabs pulled up in front of a brick mansion on the outskirts of the city. Slade Farrow alighted, and the cab pulled away.

A few moments later, a coupe rolled up and parked beneath a clump of trees not far distant. Harry Vincent, seated in the darkness of the car, watched Farrow enter the house.

This was the home of Norton Granger. Slade Farrow, entering, was met by an elderly servant who solemnly ushered him into a small room which appeared to be a study. Two persons were there: one was Norton Granger; the other was a young woman whose attractive features made an immediate impression upon Slade Farrow.

“Good evening, Mr. Farrow,” exclaimed Granger, rising as he gave the greeting. “I should like you to meet Miss Mildred Legrand.”

Slade Farrow bowed. He took the chair which Norton Granger offered him. Seating himself behind a desk, Granger produced a stack of papers.

“The Southfield Clothing Shop,” explained the young lawyer, “is owned by Miss Legrand. She has had charge of it since her father’s illness, which terminated, unfortunately, in his death.

“I have informed Miss Legrand of your desire to purchase such an establishment, and she has agreed to the sale. These papers” — Granger was unfolding the packet — “contain full data concerning the present stock and assets of the Southfield Clothing Shop, Mr. Farrow.”

Nodding, Slade Farrow drew his chair beside the desk. He began to go over the documents, while Norton Granger added comments. At times the lawyer paused to ask questions of Mildred Granger. On these occasions, Slade Farrow’s gaze was keen.

THE ex-convict noted a listlessness to Mildred Legrand’s tone. He also detected a kindliness on the part of Norton Granger. These were facts which Farrow kept in mind. Although his entire attention seemed concerned with the matter of the business deal.

Half an hour passed. Slade Farrow settled back in his chair and folded his hands. He seemed to be quite pleased with the affairs of the Southfield Clothing Shop.

“I am ready to make an offer,” he declared. “This, of course, is subject to my inspection of the establishment. The information which you have here seems to be quite complete, so I have no reason to suppose that any proviso will be required.”

“You mean a cash offer,” interposed Granger.

“Yes,” rejoined Farrow. “For all stock, fixtures and good-will; immediate occupation of the premises; and I am to assume the lease. Fourteen thousand dollars.”

A slight gasp came from Mildred Legrand. Norton Granger covered it by turning immediately to Slade Farrow.

“I believe,” asserted the lawyer, “that your offer will be acceptable to Miss Legrand. I am acting as her attorney as well as yours, Mr. Farrow. I have taken the liberty to draw up the bill of sale, leaving spaces only for the amount and the signature.”

He produced the document in question, wrote in the sum of fourteen thousand dollars, and passed pens to Slade Farrow and Mildred Legrand. The signatures were made. Farrow drew a check book from his pocket and wrote out a check for the stipulated amount.

“You can deposit this tomorrow,” he told Granger. “If there is any change in the amount, we can settle that among ourselves.”

Mildred Legrand’s face had brightened. Slade Farrow noted it, but made no comment. Norton Granger began to speak in a friendly tone to Farrow when the old servant appeared at the door of the study.

“Doctor Broomfield is here, sir.”

Granger’s face clouded. The lawyer arose to his feet. Mildred Legrand placed a hand upon his arm.

“Doctor Broomfield has come to take me home, Norton,” she explained. “He — he promised to stop for me after he brought me here.”

“I thought,” returned Granger, solemnly, “that you might stay a while longer, Mildred. I wanted to take you home myself.”

“My business here is finished,” insisted Mildred, rising. “I–I think that it would be best for me to leave. I want to thank you, Norton, for doing so much in my behalf. I am pleased to have met you, Mr. Farrow.”

A protest was on Norton Granger’s lips. It was too late. The girl had reached the door. Granger, following, stopped on the threshold and watched Mildred join a tall, dignified gentleman at the outer door. He turned back into the study, his face morose.

GRANGER said nothing for a few moments after he had taken his seat behind the desk. He chanced to glance in Farrow’s direction, and saw that the visitor was eyeing him intently. The lawyer shifted uneasily as he gathered the papers, then turned to face Farrow squarely.

“I believe it right,” declared Granger, “that I should be frank with you, Mr. Farrow. Your purchase of this business has been a fair one. Yet I must admit that the price is higher than either Miss Legrand or myself had anticipated. That was the reason for Miss Legrand’s surprise.”

“I observed it,” returned Farrow, quietly.

“You are buying a business,” asserted Granger, “which is worth considerably more than the price that you are paying. At the same time, had you not entered the picture, the Southfield Clothing Shop would soon have reached the point where it would be worth absolutely nothing.”

“I see.” Farrow smiled. “Miss Legrand is benefiting to the extent of exactly fourteen thousand dollars.”

“Yes.”

“It is quite all right with me. At the same time, Granger, you are my attorney as well as Miss Legrand’s. I am a stranger here in Southfield. She is evidently a person whom you have known for a very long while.”

“That is true.” Norton Granger nodded solemnly as he caught the mild innuendo. “I knew that you might bring up that fact. That is why I intend to explain matters to your satisfaction.”

Farrow waited until Granger thoughtfully resumed.

“Miss Legrand,” stated the young lawyer, “is the victim of unfortunate circumstances. If you remain long in Southfield, Mr. Farrow, you will undoubtedly hear mention of them. Therefore, I may as well discuss them with you now.

“Her father, Ferris Legrand, was a man who had once had a rather doubtful reputation, but who had settled down to business. Ferris Legrand, five years ago, was making a success with the Southfield Clothing Shop. He owed some of this success to the aid which he had been given by my father, Wilbur Granger.”

The young attorney’s eyes wandered to a photograph which hung upon the wall. Farrow’s gaze followed the same direction. The ex-convict studied the pictured features of an elderly, stern-faced man.

“Your father,” he questioned, “was an attorney also?”

“Yes,” replied Norton Granger. “He handled the affairs of the most important men in Southfield. He was attorney for Rutherford Blogg, the manufacturer; for Hiram Marker, who owns the waterworks and the electric plant; for Townsend Rowling, the real-estate owner who controls the Southfield Bank.”

“Big men, eh?”

“Very big. My father was prominent because of his association with them. He was wealthy and influential. Then came tragedy.”

Farrow listened as the young lawyer lowered his tone to deal in solemn reminiscence.

“FOUR years ago,” declared Norton Granger, “I was away at law school, in my senior year. Father was living alone in this home. Banks, our old retainer, left one afternoon. Father was here when Banks went out.

“That night, a motorist from out of town happened to cut through an abandoned road which no one used. He saw a body lying in a ditch. It was my father. He had been murdered. The motorist hurried into town. The police came here to the house.

“They surprised a man who was leaving by the back door. They trailed him and the path led to Ferris Legrand’s store. They entered and discovered Legrand. He was hiding money and documents which he had taken from this house.”

“A burglar!”

“So the evidence showed. The prosecutor set out to prove that Legrand had murdered my father, also. Legrand had no alibi to show where he had been that evening. Nevertheless, the murder charge was dropped for lack of evidence. Ferris Legrand was sent to the State penitentiary for ten years, convicted of burglary.”

“You mentioned that he had died just—”

“He is dead. He passed away in prison one week ago. His daughter, Mildred, had been carrying on the business while he was in prison. She had hoped that he would be paroled. Her hopes are now ended.”

“I understand.” Farrow’s voice seemed sympathetic. “Now that her father is dead, her interest in the store has ended.”

“Precisely. Time and again, she had balked at selling her father’s business. She knew that it must inevitably fail if she tried to conduct it. Nevertheless, she bravely kept it above water, so that her father could resume when his prison term was ended.”

Norton Granger paused. He sat with chin in hand, his elbow on the table, staring solemnly at his father’s portrait. Farrow intervened with a subtle question.

“You are Miss Legrand’s lawyer,” he asked, “in spite of the crime that her father committed?”

“Yes!” challenged Granger, angrily. “I took over my father’s work. I represent the men whom he represented. Ferris Legrand, though not a man of importance, was one of my father’s clients. I took it upon myself to offer my services to Ferris Legrand’s daughter.”

“Commendable,” declared Farrow. Granger softened at the tone. “That is a fine bit of sentiment, Granger. If I may speak from my brief meeting with Miss Legrand, I can say that she apparently appreciates what you have done for her.”

“I know she has,” returned the young lawyer. “But the past still intervenes.” His tone saddened. “No matter what I do, Mildred still remembers that her father was convicted for a crime committed against my father. She seems to feel that that constitutes a permanent barrier between us.”

“Unfortunate.”

“It is. I have tried to argue that her father might be innocent — even though the evidence was complete against him. That makes no difference to her way of thinking. Until her father’s name is cleared, she will never feel free to marry me.”

Slade Farrow nodded knowingly. The truth was out. Norton Granger was in love with Mildred Legrand. The young lawyer’s disappointment at the arrival of Doctor Broomfield to take the girl downtown was merely another proof of Granger’s interest in Mildred.

“It is too bad,” commented Farrow, as he arose to leave the study. “I am glad, Granger, that I have been able to do a good turn through my purchase. Let me express the hope that it may be a step toward bringing understanding between yourself and Miss Legrand.”

THE new owner of the Southfield Clothing Shop extended his hand. Norton Granger accepted it warmly. He telephoned for a cab; then accompanied Slade Farrow to the door. While they waited for the taxi, they arranged a meeting on the morrow to visit the store which Farrow had purchased.

When Slade Farrow entered the cab which arrived for him, he indulged in a broad smile. He was thinking of the past — of his long sojourn in the prison cell with Ferris Legrand, former owner of the business which Farrow had just purchased.

The present, so far as Slade Farrow was concerned, was linked with the past. The future that the ex-convict planned would be built upon this present.

A coupe trailed the taxi to the Southfield Home. Harry Vincent, agent of The Shadow, had watched the house until Slade Farrow had come out.

Tonight, The Shadow’s agent intended to dispatch a report through Rutledge Mann. The Shadow would learn all that Harry Vincent had observed in Southfield.