"Ah! My friend of many years!" he exclaimed as Cleland was ushered into his office in the building of the Manhattan Charities Concern. "And how, I pray, can I be of service to my old friend, John Cleland? M-m-m'yes my friend of many years!"
Cleland told his story very simply, adding:
"I understand that your Concern is handling Case 119, Grismer acting, I believe, for a child-placing agency."
"Which case?" demanded Grismer, almost sharply.
"Case 119. The case of Stephanie Quest," repeated Cleland.
Grismer looked at him with odd intentness for a moment, then his eyes shifted, as though something were disturbing his suave mental tranquillity:
"M-m-m'yes. Oh, yes. I believe we have this case to handle among many others. M-m-m! Quite so; quite so. Case 119? Quite so."
"May I have the child?" asked Cleland bluntly.
"Bless me! Do you really wish to take such chances, Cleland?"
"Why not? Others take them, don't they?"
"M-m-m'yes. Oh, yes. Certainly. But it is usually people of the ah middle and lower classes who adopt children. M-m-m'yes; the middle and lower classes. And, naturally, they would not be very much disappointed in a foundling or waif who failed to ah develop the finer, subtler, more delicate Christian qualities that a gentleman in your position might reasonably expect m-m-m'yes! might, as it were, demand in an adopted child."
"I'll take those chances in the case in question," said Cleland, quietly.
"M-m-m'yes, the case in question. Case 119. Quite so I am wondering " he passed a large, dry hand over his chin and mouth, reflectively, while his light-coloured eyes remained alertly on duty. "I have been wondering whether you have looked about before deciding on this particular child. There are a great many other deserving cases, m-m-m'yes a great many deserving cases "
"I want this particular child, Grismer."
"Quite so. M-m-m'yes." He looked up almost furtively. "You ah have some previous knowledge, perhaps, of this little girl's antecedents?"
Mr. Grismer's voice grew soft and persuasive; his finger tips were gently joined. Cleland, looking up at him, caught a glimmer resembling suspicion in those curiously light-coloured eyes.
"Yes, I have learned certain things about her," he said shortly. "I know enough! I want that child for mine and I'm going to have her."
"May I ask ah just what facts you have learned about this unfortunate infant?"
Cleland, bored to the verge of irritation, told him what he had learned.
There was a silence during which Grismer came to the conclusion that he had better tell Cleland another fact which necessary legal investigation of the child's antecedents might more bluntly reveal. Yes, certainly Grismer felt that he ought to place himself on record at once and explain this embarrassing fact in his own way before others cruelly misinterpreted it to Cleland. For John Cleland's position in New York among men of wealth, of affairs, of influence, and of culture made this sudden and unfortunate whim of his for Stephanie Quest a matter of awkward importance to Chiltern Grismer, who had not cared to figure in the case at all.
Grismer's large, dry hand continued to massage his jaw. Now and then the bony fingers wandered caressingly toward the white side-whiskers, but always returned to screen the thin lips with a gentle, incessant massage.
"Cleland," he began in a solemn voice, "have you ever heard that this child is ah is a very distant connection of my family? m-m-m'yes my immediate family. Have you ever heard any ill-natured gossip of this nature?"
Cleland, too astonished to reply, merely gazed at him. And Grismer wrongly concluded that he had heard about it, somewhere or other.
"M-m-m'yes a connection very distant, of course. In the event that you have heard of this unfortunate affair from sources perhaps unfriendly to myself and family m-m-m'yes, unfriendly possibly it were judicious to explain the matter to you in justice to myself."
"I never heard of it," said Cleland, " never dreamed of such a connection."
But to Grismer all men were liars.
"Oh, I did not know. I thought you might have heard malicious rumours. But it is just as well that you should be correctly informed Do you recollect ever reading anything concerning my ah late sister?"
"Do you mean something that happened many, many years ago?"
"That is what I refer to. Did you read of it in the newspapers?"
"Yes," said Cleland. "I read that she ran away with a married man."
"Doubtless," continued Grismer with a sigh, "you recollect the dreadful disgrace she brought upon my family? The cruel scandal exploited by a pitiless and malicious press?"
Cleland said nothing.
"Let me tell you the actual facts," continued Grismer gently. "The unfortunate woman became infatuated with a common Pullman conductor an Irishman named Conway a very ordinary man who already was married.
"His religion forbade divorce; my wretched sister ran away with him. We have always striven to bear the disgrace with resignation m-m-m'yes, with patience and resignation. That is the story."
Cleland, visibly embarrassed, sat twisting the handle of his walking-stick, looking persistently away from Grismer. The latter sighed heavily.
"And so," he murmured, "our door was forever closed to her and hers. She became as one ignobly dead to us as a soul damned for all eternity."
"Oh, come, Grismer "
"Damned hopelessly, and for all eternity," repeated Grismer with a slight snap of his jaw; " she and her children, and her children's children "
"What!"
" The sins of the parents that are borne through generations!"
"Nonsense! That is Old Testament bosh "
"Pardon!" said Grismer, with a pained forbearance. "It is the creed of those who worship and believe the truth as taught in the church of which I am a member."
"Oh, I beg your pardon."
"Granted," said Grismer sadly.
He sat caressing his jaw in silence for a while, then:
"Her name was Jessie Grismer. She ah assumed the name of Conway God did not bless the unholy union. There was a daughter, Laura. A certain Harry Quest, the profligate, wasted son of that good man, the Reverend Anthony Quest, married this girl, Laura Conway God, mindful of His wrath, still punished the seed of my sinful sister, even until the second generation Stephanie Quest is their daughter."
"Good heavens, Grismer! I can't understand that you, knowing this, have not done something "
"Why? Am I to presume to interfere with God's purpose? Am I to question the righteousness of His wrath?"
"But she is the little grandchild of your own sister! "
"A sister utterly cut off from among us! A sister dead to us a soul eternally lost and to be eternally forgotten."
"Is that your creed Grismer?"
"It is."
"Oh. I thought that sort of I mean, I thought such creeds were out of date old-fashioned "
"God," said Chiltern Grismer patiently, "is old-fashioned, I believe m-m-m'yes very old fashioned, Cleland. But His purposes are terrible, and His wrath is a living thing to those who have the fear of God within their hearts."
"Oh. Well, I'm sorry, but I really can't be afraid of God. If I were, I'd doubt Him, Grismer Come; may I have the little girl?"
"Do you desire her to abide under your roof after what you have learned?"
"Why, Grismer, I'd travel all the way to hell to get her now, if any of your creed had managed to send her there. Come; I've seen the child. It may be a risk, as you say. In fact, it can't help being a risk, Grismer. But I want her. May I have her?"