Erle Gardner - The Case of the Half-Wakened Wife

She laughed. “I’m not talking. Sealed orders.”

“He’s probably going to the island,” Scott Shelby said.

She laughed. “I don’t want to seem impolite, but I’ve been married twenty years. During that time I’ve learned to let my husband do the talking. About some things,” she added hastily.

They all laughed politely and followed her down to the canopied after-deck where a radio had been tuned in to dance music.

Della Street had been dancing with Parker Benton and from the sparkle of animation in her eyes Mason saw that she had been enjoying herself immensely. Marion Shelby had been dancing with Lawton Keller, and from the somewhat amused tolerance mingled with a slightly watchful glint in the woman’s eyes, Mason felt that Keller had probably been making passes at her, passes which had not been serious enough to call for definite action, yet which had left the woman slightly amused and slightly wary.

Scott Shelby seemed nervously restless. He said in an undertone to Mason, “I wish he’d get all this social stuff over and get down to brass tacks.”

“Got some proposition?” Mason asked.

“I may have.”

A steward in a white mess coat brought in cocktails and the conversation and drinking became general. Once or twice Shelby tried to bring the subject around to business but Parker Benton always headed him off.

With darkness, the faint mist which had been forming on the water thickened into fog, and as they sat down to dinner the hoarse fog whistle boomed out its eerie warning. Thereafter at regular intervals through the meal the fog whistle served to remind them that they were on the water and that a fog was settling down.

“Doesn’t look as though we’ll get back tonight,” Parker Benton said.

“Wouldn’t you tackle it in a fog?” Della Street inquired.

“Not unless I have to. It’s dangerous in the channel.”

“A collision?” Jane Keller asked anxiously. “Would the boat sink?”

“Not so much danger of a collision as danger of missing the channel and running aground on a mud flat and staying there for a lot longer than we’d like to,” Benton said.

“Oh, but I couldn’t stay all night,” Mrs. Stanhope objected and then glanced at her sister.

“I’m afraid you may not have much choice in the matter. I’ve plenty of room and we can put everybody up nicely, but...”

“Look here,” Scott Shelby interrupted, “what’s the idea behind this thing? You know as well as I do that at this season of the year there’s always fog that forms at night on this part of the river.”

“Not always,” Benton said.

“Well, nearly always.”

Parker Benton was very suave. “I can get out the motorboat and put you ashore at a little town about ten miles upstream. There’s an electric line which will get you back to the city.”

“That would be deuced uncomfortable,” Shelby said, “and I’m just recovering from a severe case of stomach trouble.”

“Food poisoning,” Marion Shelby hastened to explain.

“Well,” Parker Benton announced, “I’m not going to risk the safety of the boat and the convenience of the other passengers. You can get in the launch and get an interurban if you want to.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Well, all right,” Benton laughed. “Sit here and enjoy life then. Let’s see, I believe I have some champagne on ice.”

“And I don’t talk business when I’ve been drinking,” Shelby declared.

At the close of the dinner as coffee and liqueurs were being served, the yacht suddenly throbbed and quivered as the engines were thrown into reverse. A moment later there was the rattle of the chain through the hawse pipes and a few minutes later the engines ceased running.

Parker Benton passed cigars, cigarettes, said, “Ladies and gentlemen, the island.”

For a moment no one said anything.

Then Benton turned to Scott Shelby. “All right,” he said. “What’s your proposition?”

Shelby was terse. “I haven’t any.”

“Going to sit tight?” Benton asked.

“Perhaps.”

Benton turned to Jane Keller, said, “You have thirty thousand dollars at stake, Mrs. Keller. Sometimes half a loaf is better than no bread. I have the island at stake. Sometimes a poor compromise is better than a good lawsuit. Now then, Shelby, what’s your proposition?”

Shelby said, “Give me ten thousand dollars in cash and I’ll make a quitclaim deed.”

Benton said instantly, “That’s too much.”

“To me, it is ridiculously small. I think there’s oil on the island.”

Benton studied the smoke which was curling up in a thin, blue wisp from the end of his cigar. “To be perfectly frank with you, Shelby, I had felt that if Mrs. Keller wanted to shave the price she was getting by two thousand dollars, I would add two thousand dollars to what the island was costing me. That would make four thousand dollars that you could have for a quitclaim deed and you could then step out of the picture.”

Shelby stiffly shook his head.

“Otherwise,” Benton said, “I will either back out of the deal entirely, or,” and here he glanced swiftly at Mason, and then slowed his delivery somewhat so that he spoke with calm deliberation, “I will instruct the escrow holder to accept a certificate of title, subject to the provisions of an outstanding oil lease. I feel that you don’t have a leg to stand on and that I can get an injunction prohibiting you from setting foot on the island.”

“You may get the injunction but it won’t become final until after it has gone through the Supreme Court,” Shelby said.

“And that also I am prepared to take into consideration,” Benton went on smiling. “I don’t think it will make such a great deal of difference to me, Mr. Shelby. I am not buying this island for speculation. I am buying it for a home and since I don’t intend to sell it, I don’t care how long the litigation takes. Just so I keep you off the island.”

“Suppose I win it?”

Parker Benton said, “My legal department is preparing an opinion on that. If their opinion coincides with that of Mr. Mason, I will be very much inclined to go ahead and complete the deal and then let you take any legal steps you see fit.”

Shelby shifted his position. “That means no one would make any money out of it except the lawyers.”

“And I’d have the island,” Benton said.

“I don’t think I’d like that idea,” Shelby blurted.

“You don’t have to take that way out,” Parker Benton told him. “You can take four thousand dollars in cold hard cash and forget about it. Otherwise you’ll have a lawsuit and a continuing expense.”

“Are you making that four thousand dollars in the form of a definite offer?”

Parker Benton glanced at Jane Keller, then at Mason, said, “As far as my two thousand of it is concerned, it’s an offer.”

Martha Stanhope spoke up quickly. “Jane, you understand what Mr. Benton wants.”

Lawton Keller said, “The way it looks to me, if Mr. Benton wants to buy that island, he should put up the entire four thousand dollars. After all, the price my sister-in-law is getting is low enough.”

Benton looked at Lawton Keller with cold dislike. He said, “As far as I am concerned, my offer is final. I considered the two thousand dollars I am willing to donate as a very material concession on my part. Usually, it’s up to the seller to convey a clear title.”

Keller said, “You want this island.”

“Of course, I want it.”

“Well, go ahead and pay for it then.”

“You mean you people won’t put up two thousand dollars?”

Martha Stanhope said, “Lawton, I wish you’d shut up. Don’t be so greedy. After all, Jane is the one that has the say and I think it’s a very reasonable settlement myself.”