Джеймс Кейн - Root of His Evil [= Shameless]

“Very well, but I wish you’d make up your mind what you have against him. Because your mother is one thing, I’m something else.”

“Not necessarily.”

At this moment Mr. Hunt said, “Children, children,” and we became silent again. The significance of the threats about Mr. Holden did not dawn on me then, but in a minute or two I was to find out what lay back of them. The desk called promptly at eleven and said a Mrs. Harris was in the lobby, and I told them to send her up.

But when she knocked and I opened the door to let her in who should be with her but Mr. Holden.

I was so surprised that when she took me in her arms and kissed me I let her, although I had fully intended to refuse even to shake hands. He patted my arm, and apparently was not aware there was anything unusual going on. When I brought them in, though, and he saw Grant, he was on his guard at once. He spoke affably but I could see his quick glance shoot around at all of us. Grant nodded to him coldly, and then I introduced him to Mr. Hunt, who seemed as much surprised at his presence there as I was. Then we all sat down and he took out a cigarette and began tapping it on his finger. Then he looked at me and said: “Well. I had no idea I was going to wind up here when Mrs. Harris called me this morning, Carrie.”

“Oh, you’re back at the Wakefield?”

“M’m. For a day or two.”

“I didn’t know that.”

I was just saying things that meant nothing. I wanted to ask him how he could leave Penn-Duquesne, and what he was doing here, and what she had said to him, and a lot of other things, but I couldn’t do it before all the others, and I couldn’t quite make myself ask him to step into the bedroom. It was all going differently from the way I had planned, and I had some panicky instinct that she had got the jump on me, but there was nothing I could do but begin. I turned to her. “Mrs. Harris, I’ve asked you here to discuss a little matter of business.”

“Yes, Carrie? I love to talk business.”

Her voice was like honey, but her eyes had the old familiar glassy look, and I wanted to back down, to say never mind, that it was nothing important and I preferred not to mention it. But I knew I had to go on. “But before we get to the business part there are one or two matters I want to take up with you.”

“Why, certainly, Carrie. Speak freely. After all, you’re among friends... What matters?”

“...How you broke up my marriage, for instance.”

I sounded all muffled and frightened, and she laughed. “Now, Carrie, you’re joking.”

“No, I’m not joking.”

My voice came back when I said that, and I ripped it out as though I meant it, and stood up facing her. And she came back the same way, shrill and loud, the way she always talked when she got angry. “That’ll be enough of that, young woman. I’ve been expecting it, I know just what you’re up to—”

“You don’t know what I’m up to!”

“Yes, I do, and I warn you that anything of that kind that you attempt is going to have most unpleasant consequences.” She stood up, then, and faced me, and the two of us were in the center of the room like a pair of fighting hens. Grant said something quickly, but she paid no attention to him, and went on, shaking her finger at me. “I’m all ready for you. I’m quite prepared to prove that you never had a marriage to break up, that you deceived and betrayed my son even on his wedding day and before. I’ve taken good care to bring your paramour with me — and we’ll let him tell who broke up your marriage.”

She turned dramatically to Mr. Holden, and I don’t know what she thought he was going to say, but he just laughed. “Be your age, Agnes, if that’s why you insisted I come here with you. I broke up no marriage. And I’m not her paramour — worse luck.”

At this Grant jumped up, his fists clenching and unclenching. “That’s a lie, Holden. You’ve been traveling around the country with her. stopping at the same hotels—”

Mr. Holden looked up then, with such a queer look on his face that Grant stopped. “Mr. Harris, I understand your anger, but I don’t respect it. Only two people can break up a marriage, the husband and the wife. I can speak for the wife, in this case. I tried with every ounce that was in me to get her to come with me, to leave you, because I loved her and I thought you were no good. I tried without avail. She didn’t break up the marriage. That leaves you. Am I right?”

Grant tried to answer him and couldn’t, and slumped down in his chair again, twice as hangdog-looking as he had been before. Mr. Holden then added: “I have never been her lover, in the hotels or any other place — though I’ve tried to be, I say to my credit. I don’t care to hear any more out of you on this subject.”

Grant began to shake and put his fingers in his ears even while Mr. Holden was talking, so it was embarrassing to look at him, but Mrs. Harris wasn’t done yet. She ran over to Mr. Holden and screamed: “How about those stock deals? How about those stock deals?”

“What stock deals?”

“You can’t deny it! The stock deals you and she have been putting over! Do you mean to say you made her all that money — just to be nice to her?”

“I’ve never bought a share of stock, and I don’t think Carrie would know one from a hard-boiled egg—”

“What? Why, Bernie handled the deals! He—”

“Oh, mother, shut up, shut up — let Carrie finish and let’s get out of here, or I’ll go mad!” Grant sounded as though he was in agony, but I only half heard what he said. I was watching Mr. Holden, who had turned around suddenly toward Mr. Hunt. He then turned slowly around to me, and by the look on his face I knew he realized that what she said was true, that I had been dealing in stocks, and that he knew why. Mrs. Harris kept on screaming, but he paid no attention to her. He went over to the window and stood looking out at the sky. Then he turned to me. “That’s why you wanted to be my secretary, Carrie?”

“...Yes.”

I felt sick when I said it, and nobody spoke, and he kept looking at me. “That you could use for profit — something that was meant for glory? That men fought for, and bled for, and — believed in?”

“...Yes.”

Mrs. Harris began to scream again. “She made thousands... thousands,” but he sat down again, and motioned her to be quiet. “No more, Agnes, if you don’t mind. I had a flower in my heart when I came in here, and it’s not there any more... Give me a minute. I’ll mourn my dead, and be off.”

He sat staring ahead of him, and nobody said anything. Mr. Hunt came over and patted my cheeks with his handkerchief. Tears were pouring out of my eyes so I could hardly see.

Mr. Holden got up then, walked heavily over to the table, picked up his hat and went out. I took the handkerchief and hid my face in it. After a long time I felt Mr. Hunt tapping me on the shoulder. “Somebody’s out there. Do you want me to go, or—?”

“I’ll go.”

I went out in the hall. Mr. Holden was standing there. He closed the door, walked over toward the elevators, and stood leaning against the wall. “...I couldn’t leave you that way, Carrie.”

I went over and took his hand. “No — not that way.”

“Why did you do it, Carrie?”

“I... I had to pay her back. What I took from her. I... I just had to.”

“Well — I could have known it was something with a little spirit to it.”

“I couldn’t see that it hurt anyone—”

“It didn’t. Not Labor, certainly... But — there was no love in it. Or you would have told me.”

I began to cry again at that, and he took me in his arms, and held me until I was quiet. I wanted to tell him it wasn’t true, that there was love in it, but I couldn’t. “...Goodbye, Carrie.”