"Certainly," said Siward curiously.
"Then, first of all, he is a sentimentalist."
"Oh! oh!" jeered Siward.
"A sentimentalist of the weakest type," continued Plank obstinately; "because he sentimentalises over himself. Siward, look out for the man with elaborate whiskers! Look out for a pallid man with eccentric hair and a silky beard! He's a sentimentalist of the sort I told you, and is usually utterly remorseless in his dealings with women. I suppose you think me a fool."
"I think Quarrier is indifferent concerning women," said Siward.
"You are wrong. He is a sensualist," insisted Plank.
"Oh, no, Plank--not that!"
"A sensualist. His sentimental vanity he lavishes upon himself--the animal in him on women. His caution, born of self-consideration, is the caution of a beast. Such men as he believe they live in the focus of a million eyes. Part of his vanity is to deceive those eyes and be what he is under the mask he wears; and to do that one must be the very master of caution. That is Quarrier's vanity. To conceal, is his monomania."
"I cannot see how you draw that conclusion."
"Siward, he is a bad man, and crafty--every inch of him."
"Oh, come, now! Only characters in fiction have no saving qualities. You never heard of anybody in real life being entirely bad."
"No, I didn't; and Quarrier isn't. For example, he is kind to valuable animals--I mean, his own."
"Good to animals! The bad man's invariable characteristic!" laughed Siward. "I'm kind to 'em, too. What else is he good to?"
"Everybody knows that he hasn't a poor relation left; not one. He is loyal to them in a rare way; he filled one subsidiary company full of them. It is known down town as the 'Home for Destitute Nephews.'"
"Seriously, Plank, the man must have something good in him."
"Because of your theory?"
"Yes. I believe that nobody is entirely bad. So do the great masters of fiction."
Plank said gravely: "He is a good son to his father. That is perfectly true--kind, considerate, dutiful, loyal. The financial world is perfectly aware that Stanley Quarrier is to-day the most unscrupulous old scoundrel who ever crushed a refinery or debauched a railroad! and his son no more believes it than he credits the scandalous history of the Red Woman of Wall Street. Why, when I was making arrangements for that chapel Quarrier came to me, very much perturbed, because he understood that all the memorial chapels for the cathedral had been arranged for, and he had desired to build one to the memory of his father! His father! Isn't it awful to think of!--a chapel to the memory of the briber of judges and of legislatures, the cynical defier of law!--this hoary old thief, who beggared the widow and stripped the orphan, and whose only match, as a great unpunished criminal, was that sinister little predecessor of his, who dreamed even of debauching the executive of these United States!"