The Leather Duke

Elliott Towner stepped out of the single file formation. “Let her alone,” he said ominously.

“You’re the boss’s son,” said Johnny, shrugging. He continued on after the others. But at the door of Towner’s office he looked back. Nancy Miller was getting up from her switchboard desk. And as Johnny waited, she came forward.

Harry Towner watched the entry of his visitors. In the office already were his daughter Linda and her fiancé, Freddie Wendland.

“What’s this?” The Leather Duke asked. “A shop grievance committee?”

“The last act,” Johnny said, “the finale, in which you will learn everything... well, almost everything. Remember what I said to you yesterday when I took on this job?”

“No,” said Towner, “but Wendland’s just been telling me some things about you...”

“Phooey on Freddie,” said Johnny flippantly. “Mr. Wendland will sit in the corner and keep his mouth shut while his inferiors carry on.”

Wendland cried out and started forward, but The Leather Duke waved his hand and Wendland swerved and went to a far corner of the room and seated himself.

Johnny looked around the circle of faces. “Well,” he said, “does anyone want to make a confession and save us all time?”

No one in the room said a word.

Johnny nodded. “I thought not. You’re still hoping against hope that I’m nothing but a loud-mouthed fool.” He drew a deep breath. “Mr. Towner, since everyone here is a member of the great big Towner leather family, you won’t mind, I’m sure, if I wash a little dirty family linen.”

“Go ahead, wash,” said Harry Towner grimly, “but you’d better wash it clean, because I’ll probably throw you out of this office on your ear when you get through.”

“It’s about your first marriage, Mr. Towner,” said Johnny.

“Dad’s only been married once,” Elliott Towner cut in.

“Twice,” Johnny corrected. “Of course, I guess he doesn’t count the first one because it was annulled after only a few days. He married beneath his station, you know, a chorus girl or someone like that. A gold-digging chorus girl, with rather low morals... Did you say something, Karl?”

“I said you were a liar,” Kessler said clearly. “A dirty, no-good, stinking liar, Elsie was—”

“Your sister?” Johnny asked quickly.

“What’s that?” cried Harry Towner.

Johnny’s eyes slitted. “You didn’t know?”

“Of course not. Her name was Elsie King...”

“Her professional name. Before she went on the stage, it was Elsie Kessler.”

Towner looked at Kessler in bewilderment. “But, Karl, you never breathed a word...”

“And lose my job?” Kessler asked bitterly. “Your father paid Elsie off. Five hundred dollars he gave her, for the child—”

“Child!” Towner cried hoarsely. “What child?”

“Your daughter.”

“Nancy Miller,” Johnny said quietly.

Harry Towner looked at Johnny, then stared for a moment at Karl Kessler. Then he suddenly strode across the room to where Nancy was standing stiffly just inside the door. He peered into her face for a long time. Then he slowly shook his head. “No,” he said, “I don’t believe it.”

“And neither do I,” Johnny said.

“I have a birth certificate to prove it,” said Karl Kessler. “Also hospital records.”

“I’ve seen them, Dad,” suddenly said Elliott Towner.

“You?” cried The Leather Duke.

“I’ve known about it for months. I... I asked Nancy to marry me, then Karl, well Karl told me I couldn’t, because she was my half sister.”

“They really sold you that bill of goods, Elliott?” Johnny asked.

“I’ve seen the documents.”

“You’ve seen some pieces of paper. And some old newspaper clippings about the first marriage and annulment. The newspaper clippings were real.” Johnny paused. “And you were in love with Nancy.” He laughed shortly. “Funny, how a man in love with a girl will believe every word she tells him. How much has it cost you, so far?”

Elliott Towner winced. His father saw it and came toward him. “Elliott, have you been giving money to these people?” He waited for his son to answer and when he didn’t, he gripped his arm. “Answer me!”

“Yes,” Elliott finally admitted miserably. “They — I mean, he,” indicating Karl, “said he’d been quiet long enough. He was going to tell the newspapers the whole story.”

“But there isn’t any story, son,” exclaimed Harry Towner. “It’s true I was married to a girl named Elsie King and that the marriage was annulled. My father — your grandfather — proved to me that she—”

“That’s a lie!” cried Karl Kessler.

“All right,” said Harry Towner, “let’s say then that I was drunk when I married her. And that’s true. I woke up in Lake Geneva one morning and discovered that I had a wife.”

“And six months later, you married another woman who had to go to Europe to have her baby because—”

“That,” said Harry Towner coolly, “is a lie!” He regarded Kessler steadily. “How long have you worked for this company?”

“Thirty-nine years, eight months and eleven days. A lifetime and now, in my old age, I am fired!”

“You’re not fired,” said Johnny, “you’re just taking a leave of absence. Until they take you down to Joliet for the execution...”