The Road Of Crime

CHAPTER XII DELKIN CONFIDES

THAT same evening, Graham Wellerton was seated alone in the living room of Ralph Delkin’s Southwark home. The former gentleman of crime was now a gentleman of leisure. Sprawled in a large chair, his feet stretched out on a comfortable stool, Graham Wellerton was reading a newspaper which he had selected from a stack beside him.

During his sojourn at Ralph Delkin’s home, Graham had not turned his hand to a single bit of work. He had shown no inclination to do anything but loaf. Attired in new clothes which his benefactor had bought him, well-fed with sumptuous fare, he was living at ease and showing a constant indifference toward those who had befriended him.

Reading the newspaper, Graham found passing interest in the account of a small and rather unprofitable bank robbery which had been committed in a town not many miles from Southwark. Graham smiled. Wolf Daggert and his defeated minions were trying their luck on a small scale.

Graham wondered if Wolf were afraid to return to New York. Probably, Graham decided. After cracking a few more cribs, the skulking gang leader would probably head for a more profitable territory, but he would not be likely to show up in Manhattan for some time to come.

Graham could figure the system that Wolf was using. With three men at his command, the leader was making short, quick raids; then lying low, probably in some obscure section of the countryside. Graham wondered if, by any chance, Wolf and his men would visit Southwark.

This town would be a logical spot. The State bank, owned by Graham’s uncle, Ezra Talboy, was a profit-making institution. The region surrounding Southwark was hilly and it possessed some isolated and abandoned strips of farm land. Hiding out — an art in which Wolf Daggert excelled — would be easy hereabouts.

Graham pondered. Much though he disliked the thought, it seemed wise to remain in Southwark for some time to come. It was the part of sanity to continue this life of leisure.

Graham realized that his own status was none too good in his home town. While he lived quietly here at Delkin’s, he was free from suspicion; but should he make a sudden departure, others might wonder.

What irony it would be if he should go away just prior to a chance raid by Wolf Daggert and his men. He, Graham Wellerton, might be suspected of criminal activity. Should Wolf Daggert be captured and questioned, a mere mention of Graham’s name would cause the yellow gang leader to squeal.

With a past to protect, Graham decided that it would be best to lie low and wait until Wolf Daggert had departed from this district — or until something had happened to the skulking gang leader who had already caused Graham trouble.

Later, opportunity would arrive to leave. Graham had been looking forward to the time when he could safely leave Southwark. Yet, as he considered the matter now, that day seemed strangely remote. Growling to himself, Graham wondered if he were becoming soft — if the thought of future crime might be actually distasteful.

FLINGING the newspaper to the floor, Graham lighted a cigarette and stared upward at the ceiling. Analyzing himself, he was forced to the realization that he was not a crook at heart. For the first time in many months, necessity for crime was no longer existent, so far as Graham was concerned. The young man found himself regretful of his past.

Why? Graham angrily asked himself the reason. What influence had prevailed, here in Southwark, to bring Graham to such a realization?

Various reasons were possible. One by one, the young man rejected them. While Graham was in this state of mind, the real answer appeared. Eunice Delkin entered the room.

Graham stared moodily and gave no greeting as the girl sat down in a chair a short distance away. Despite the sullenness in his gaze, Graham found himself admitting that Eunice was more than merely attractive. She was beautiful; and the quiet smile which she gave Graham had an immediate effect.

The young man realized that he admired Eunice Delkin beyond all persons whom he had ever met before. The reason for his mental conflict regarding crime was now apparent.

In his heart, Graham was in love with Eunice Delkin. At the same time, he realized that insurmountable barriers made it impossible for him to express the sentiment which he felt.

His past — with its crime — that was bad enough. Had his career been the only obstacle, Graham might have seen a possibility toward future happiness. It would be possible, under proper circumstances, to make amends for deeds of crime. Graham had no money; there was no way of establishing himself, except through taking advantage of Ralph Delkin’s friendship. Even that might lead to happiness; but a final barrier remained. Graham was thinking of Carma.

That marriage into which he had been tricked! It was the factor that made happiness impossible. Graham had never thought of Carma as his wife. To him she was still Carma Urstead, a gangster’s moll who had worked deceit and profited thereby.

As he studied Eunice Delkin, Graham Wellerton admired her frank, understanding countenance. He thought of Carma Urstead, whose overpainted face always bore traces of a mean, selfish nature. If the past few years could only be obliterated! That was Graham’s single thought.

Although Eunice Delkin did not know the thoughts that were passing in Graham’s mind, she realized that something was troubling the young man. She smiled sympathetically. Graham, to cover his thoughts, mumbled in grouchy fashion as he puffed his cigarette.

“Are you worrying about anything, Graham?” questioned Eunice in a kindly tone.

“No,” growled the young man. “What difference would it make, anyway?”

“A great deal,” rejoined Eunice. “I should like to see you happy — to see you enjoying life here.”

“Not much chance of that,” retorted Graham. “I hate this town. Maybe you think I’m ungrateful toward you and your father. Maybe he wonders why I won’t take a job in his factory, even after he showed me the plant and made me an offer. But I don’t care. Think what you want about me.”

“Would you like to know what I think about you?”

“Yes.” Graham’s tone was challenging. “Go ahead. Criticize me. Speak out.”

“I think,” declared Eunice gently, “that you have suffered greatly in the past. Your mind is overburdened by misfortune. You need friendship; and it must be given patiently, with no thought of a response on your part.

“The longer that you resist the kindness which my father and I are seeking to show you, the longer will I, at least, be patient with you. Life has treated you badly. It may take many months for old wounds to heal. I am determined, however, that you will some day appreciate our friendship and come to remember it as the real brightness in your life.”

Graham Wellerton had no reply. One word of criticism might have brought an outburst; but he realized that it was impossible to argue with one so fair-minded as Eunice Delkin. The young man sat in silence. Feelings of hatred surged through his brain; but they were all directed toward himself.

DURING this long pause, while Graham Wellerton was coming to stern realization of his past mistakes, Ralph Delkin entered the living room. Eunice arose to greet her father. Delkin kissed his daughter; then spoke in a serious tone.

“I should like to talk to Graham,” he said. “Alone. You do not mind leaving—”

“What is the trouble, daddy?” questioned Eunice, in a tone of apprehension.

“I can tell you later, darling,” responded Delkin. “For the present” — the man’s tone was worried — “I would rather talk with Graham.”

Nodding, the girl left the living room. The door closed behind her.

Ralph Delkin turned to Graham Wellerton. The young man was perplexed. He wondered if something had occurred to give his protector an inkling of his past. Delkin’s first words, however, dispelled that idea.

“I’m in trouble, Graham,” declared Delkin. “Something very unforeseen has arisen. I have to talk to someone.”

“Thanks,” returned Graham dryly.

Delkin did not note the sarcasm in the young man’s tone. Pacing back and forth, the Southwark manufacturer wore a worried, doubtful air. Finally he turned. and spoke again.

“Your uncle,” he said to Graham, “is deliberately set to swindle me. Yet his means are fair — within the law.”

“As Ezra Talboy’s ways always are,” interposed Graham.

“You mean your father’s case,” nodded Delkin. “Graham, that’s why I’m talking to you. Ezra Talboy swindled your father. I have detested the man ever since. I have only done business with him under pressure. Now I have come to a point of regret.

“I needed money not long ago. Fifty thousand dollars. I wanted it to keep my plant open — to pay deserving men and let them work during a poor business period. I wanted to avert unemployment in Southwark.

“Ezra Talboy loaned me the money for three months, with a promise of renewal for another ninety days. I gave him the best security possible — my plant and its equipment, valued at more than a quarter of a million.

“I exhausted nearly all of the fifty thousand. I saw my business through the difficult period. The plant is now showing a slight profit. One month from now, it will be wiping out all deficits.”

“But in the meantime,” reminded Graham.

“That’s it,” admitted Delkin. “My notes are due within a few days, I dropped in to see Ezra Tallboy — to remind him of the extension. He has refused to give it.”

“Which means?”

“That my entire plant passes into his control. I lose everything — all for fifty thousand dollars.”

“Money which you do not have.”

“Money which I paid to my faithful employees.”

Graham Wellerton leaned back in his chair and emitted a raucous laugh. Ralph Delkin stood in amazement as he heard the young man’s merriment.

“That’s what comes from your folly, Delkin,” jeered Graham. “You dealt with that old skinflint — although it was against good judgment. Why? To help out a lot of employees who should have been laid off. Your workmen have been living along at your expense. Now you are going to pay the piper.

“Gratitude! Where is it? What does it amount to? You brought me here — you insisted upon treating me well. I took your favors; and I warned you that I did not want them — that I would give you no return.

“If you expect advice from me, I have none to give. If you want sympathy or encouragement, those are lacking also. You deserve what you are getting — and it’s coming from the chap that’s most capable of giving it — Ezra Talboy.”

RALPH DELKIN was frantic. Graham Wellerton’s jeers had a double effect; they made the manufacturer angry and they also drove him to a state of pitiable hopelessness. Between these mingled emotions, Delkin paced across the room and half staggered from the door. Graham could hear his footsteps pounding up the stairs. The young man chuckled with evil glee.

Graham looked up to see Eunice Delkin standing beside him. The girl had entered the room silently. As her eyes met Graham’s, Eunice put a question:

“What is the trouble with father?”

“Business,” sneered Graham. “Misplaced trust. He is going to lose everything, because he was big-hearted and believed what other people told him. I rubbed it in — I told him he was a fool. How do you like that? You’ve found cause to criticize me now, haven’t you?”

“None at all,” replied Eunice patiently. “I am sorry for you, Graham. Sorrier for you than I am for father. He and I can stand poverty. My only regret is that you will suffer also if we can give you a home no longer.”

Quietly, the girl left the living room. Graham could hear her going upstairs to talk to her father. The young man found himself recalling the sincere words that Eunice had uttered. He began to fume — to curse himself for his own meanness. Rising from his chair, Graham walked about the room. His eyes fell upon the newspaper which he had dropped on the floor.

A determined sparkle came in Graham Wellerton’s eye.

Crime!

He had abandoned that profession. He realized now that he would never be a crook again. But with a consummate desire to go straight came a willingness to once more participate in criminal activity.

Stealthily, Graham Wellerton donned hat and coat. He strolled out through the front door and stepped into darkness. The chill wind of the night was invigorating. It gave him a new impetus.

Once again — for the last time in his life, he decided — Graham Wellerton would play the part of a gentleman of crime.