The Best Policy

“My rule of life shall be: the premiums first, the payments on the note next,” declared Lake. “If I fall behind in the latter, the security will still be good. I only ask that anything in excess of what may be due you, in case of my death, shall go to my wife, and she, of course, becomes the sole beneficiary the moment you are paid. But, for the love of heaven, hurry!”

Instead of hurrying, Belden leaned back in his chair and looked at the young man with bewildered admiration.

“Such ingenuity,” he said at last, “ought not to go unrewarded. As a strict business proposition, your plan would hardly find favor with a conservative banker, but, as a matter of friendship and confidence – ” He reached for his check-book. “Such a head as yours is worth a risk,” he added a moment later.

Lake reached the office of the Bington road at 11:30 on the day his option expired. The colonel was already there, waiting. So were some of the majority stock-holders. The colonel was confident and unusually loquacious.

“Now that the matter is practically settled,” he remarked with the cheerful frankness of a man who has won, “I may admit that the young man had us up a tree. He succeeded in putting the other route through Bington practically beyond our reach, and forced us to take the risk of doing business with the minority stock-holders at a possible dead loss. But we knew he didn’t have the money, so we went ahead with our plans and our work without delay. A little ready cash – ”

It was then that Lake entered and deposited a small satchel on the long table.

“I will take the stock under my option,” he announced briefly to such of the majority stock-holders as were present. “I think I have got all I need, with the exception of what is represented by you gentlemen. It has been a pretty busy morning for me.” He emptied the stock certificates already acquired and some bundles of bank-notes on the table. “Colonel,” he said with a joyous and triumphant laugh, “you’d better sit up and begin to take notice.”

The colonel’s attitude and air of easy confidence already had changed, and his look of amazement and dismay was almost laughable.

“Quick, gentlemen,” cautioned Lake, with a glance at the clock. “I’ve tendered the money in time, but I’ll feel a little more comfortable when I have the rest of the needed stock.”

Like one in a dream the colonel leaned over the table and watched the transaction.

“Do – do you want to sell some of that stock?” he asked at last.

“No,” replied Lake; “I don’t want to sell some of it; I want to sell all of it.”

“We don’t need all of it,” said the colonel.

“Well, I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” returned Lake magnanimously. “I’ll sell you all or any part of it for fifty thousand dollars.”

“On the basis of fifty thousand for your entire holdings?” asked the colonel.

“No; at the set price of fifty thousand for whatever you take.”

“Too much,” said the colonel.

“As you please,” said Lake carelessly. “The price of the control of the Bington road goes up one thousand dollars a day. It’s dirt cheap at fifty thousand now, but, of course, if you don’t need it, Colonel, the bargain price doesn’t interest you.”

The colonel did need it; in fact, the company, in its sublime confidence, had put itself in a position where failure to get it meant a considerable loss.

“On second thought,” remarked Lake, “I’ll have to add a thousand to compensate me for the indignity of being called a half-baked financier. Do you remember that, Colonel?”

“We’ll take it,” said the colonel resignedly. Then he added reflectively: “You’ve made a pretty good thing out of this, Lake.”

“Fair, fair,” replied Lake. “After I’ve repaid the twenty thousand five hundred that I borrowed, I’ll have thirty thousand five hundred left, not to mention an insurance policy for twenty thousand in favor of my wife, with the first premium paid. You ought to study the insurance question, Colonel. There are wonderful financial possibilities in it, and some day, perhaps, you will wake up to the fact that insurance beat you in this deal.”

AN INCIDENTAL FAVOR

On the same day two women called to see Dave Murray in regard to the same matter, and that was the beginning of the trouble.

The first was Mrs. Albert Vincent. The obituary columns of the morning papers had given a few lines to the death of Albert Vincent, but Murray had not expected to hear from his widow so promptly, and she was a little too businesslike to meet his idea as to the proprieties of the occasion. In fact, there was no indication of either outward mourning or inward grief.

“Perhaps you will recall,” she said, without the slightest trace of emotion, “that I wrote to you some time ago to ask if the premiums on my husband’s insurance had been fully paid.”

“I recall it,” replied Murray.

“And you answered that they had been paid.”

“I recall that also,” said Murray.

“Well, he died last night,” explained the widow, “and I would like to know when I can get the insurance money.”

Murray looked at her in amazement. He had had to deal with many people whom necessity made importunate, but never before had he met such cold-bloodedness as this woman displayed in tone and manner. Apparently, it was no more to her than a business investment, upon which she was now about to realize.

“There are certain formalities necessary,” he said, “but there will be little delay after proper proof of death has been filed. You will, of course, have the attending physician – ”

“I don’t know who he is,” interrupted the woman.

“You don’t know who he is!” repeated Murray in astonishment.

“No. But I will find out and see him at once. It is important that there shall be as little delay as possible.”

Previous experiences made Murray quick at jumping to conclusions in such cases, and he now thought he had the explanation of this unusually prompt call. The woman was stylishly dressed, but that was no proof that she had the ready cash essential at such a time.

“I think I understand,” said Murray delicately. “You can not meet the expenses incident to – ”

“I have nothing to do with any expenses,” the woman again interrupted coldly. “She looked after him in life, and she can look after him now.”

“She!” exclaimed Murray. “Who?”

“The nurse,” replied the woman scornfully. “But she can’t have the insurance – not a cent of it. And that’s what she has been after.”

“Let me understand this,” said Murray thoughtfully. “You and your husband have not been living together?”

“Not for five years.”

“And this other woman?”

“She was an old flame, and she went to him when he became ill.”

“Did he send for you?”

“No. He knew better than to do that. But the insurance is in my name, and I’m going to have it – all of it. That’s my right, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” replied Murray slowly; “I’m sorry to say that is your absolute right.” The supreme selfishness and heartlessness of the woman were revolting to Murray. “The policy names you as beneficiary, and when it is presented, with proof of death, the money will have to be paid to you.”

“How am I to get the policy?” asked the woman. “He had it put away somewhere.”

“That is a matter upon which I can not undertake to advise you,” replied Murray.

“Anyhow,” declared the woman defiantly, for Murray’s words and expression showed his disapprobation, “I want to serve notice on you that not one cent of the money is to be paid to any one else. It would be just like that nurse to try to get it.”