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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mortmain, by Arthur Cheny Train
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mortmain
+
+Author: Arthur Cheny Train
+
+Release Date: September 8, 2011 [EBook #37346]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORTMAIN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MORTMAIN
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "'The problem, gentlemen, of limb-grafting has been
+solved.'" (Page 4)]
+
+
+
+
+MORTMAIN
+
+BY ARTHUR TRAIN
+
+
+NEW YORK
+CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
+1928
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY ESS ESS PUBLISHING COMPANY
+COPYRIGHT, 1905, 1906, 1907, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY
+COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY THE METROPOLITAN MAGAZINE COMPANY
+COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY ASSOCIATED SUNDAY MAGAZINES
+COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY THE BUTTERICK PUBLISHING COMPANY
+
+Printed in the United States of America
+
+
+[Illustration: THE SCRIBNER PRESS]
+
+
+
+
+             To
+            AMOS
+     ESNESTO AND SANDRO
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                       PAGE
+ MORTMAIN                                 1
+ THE RESCUE OF THEOPHILUS NEWBEGIN       65
+ THE VAGABOND                           109
+ THE MAN HUNT                           131
+ NOT AT HOME                            239
+ A STUDY IN SOCIOLOGY                   251
+ THE LITTLE FELLER                      269
+ RANDOLPH, '64                          275
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+                                                             FACING
+                                                               PAGE
+
+  "'The problem, gentlemen, of limb-grafting has been
+  solved!'"                                              Frontispiece
+
+  "Mortmain . . . lay motionless on the floor"                      22
+
+  "His blunt fingers twisted into the flesh deeper and deeper"      56
+
+  "She . . . studied the faces alternately"                        156
+
+  "The distinguished Flynn burst into a deluge of oratory"         262
+
+  "He caught sight of the waiting Maria"                           266
+
+  "'Back,' he shouted"                                             296
+
+
+
+
+MORTMAIN
+
+
+I
+
+
+Sir Penniston Crisp was a man of some sixty active years, whose ruddy
+cheeks, twinkling blue eyes, and convincingly innocent smile suggested
+forty. At thirty he had been accounted the most promising young surgeon
+in London; at forty he had become one of the three leading members of
+his profession; at fifty he had amassed a fortune and had begun to
+accept only those cases which involved complications of true scientific
+interest, or which came to him on the personal application of other
+distinguished physicians.
+
+Like many another in the medical world whose material wants are
+guaranteed, he found solace and amusement only in experimentation along
+new lines of his peculiar hobbies. His days were spent between his
+book-lined study with its cheery sea-coal fire and his adjacent
+laboratory, where three assistants, all trained Bachelors of Science,
+conducted experiments under his personal direction.
+
+His daily life was as well ordered as his career had been. Rising at
+seven, Sir Penniston partook of a meager breakfast, attended to his
+trifling personal affairs, read his newspaper, dictated his letters, and
+by nine was ready to don his uniform and receive his sterilized
+instruments from his young associate, Scalscope Jermyn, a capable and
+cheerful soul after Crisp's own heart. An operating theater adjoined the
+laboratory, and here the baronet made it a point to perform once each
+week, in the presence of various surgeons who attended by invitation, a
+few difficult and dangerous operations upon patients sent to him from
+the City Hospital.
+
+When Jermyn was with his familiars he was wont to refer to his master as
+the "howlingist cheese in surgery." This was putting it mildly, for,
+although Sir Penniston was indubitably, if you choose, quite the
+"howlingist cheese" in surgery, he was also a pathfinder, an explorer
+into the mysteries of the body and the essence of vitality in bone and
+tissue. He could do more things to a cat in twenty minutes than would
+naturally occur in the combined history of a thousand felines. He could
+handle the hidden arteries and vessels of the body as confidently and
+accurately as you or I would tie a shoe string. He had housed a tramp
+for thirteen months and inserted a plate-glass window in that
+gentleman's exterior in order that he might with the greater certainty
+study the complicated processes of a digestion stimulated after a
+chronic lack of food. He experimented on men, women, children,
+elephants, apes, ostriches, guinea pigs, rabbits, turtles, frogs, and
+goldfish. He could alter the shape of a nose, or perfect an irregular
+ear in the twinkling of an instrument; remove a human heart and insert
+it still beating without inconvenience to its owner; and was as much at
+home among the vessels of Thebesius as he was on Piccadilly Circus.
+
+He was single, kept but one servant--a Jap--neither smoked nor drank,
+attended the worst play he could find every Saturday night, and gave
+ponderous dinners to his professional brethren on Wednesdays. He was the
+dean of his order, and bade fair to remain so for a long time to come--a
+calm, passionless craftsman in flesh and bone. His rivals frequently
+were heard to say that there was nothing surgical in heaven or earth
+that Crisp would not undertake. A faint odor of chloroform followed his
+well-regulated progress through existence.
+
+On the morning upon which this narrative opens Sir Penniston had entered
+his laboratory with that urbanity so characteristic of him. A white
+frock hung jauntily upon his well-filled, if slenderly nourished,
+proportions, his blue eyes sparkled with good-natured activity, and his
+long, muscular hands rubbed themselves together in a manner which
+signified that they were anxious to be at the skilled work in which
+their owner took so keen a pleasure. Scalscope was already on hand, and
+with a bundle of dripping instruments in his grasp met his master
+halfway between the minor operating table and the antiseptic bath.
+
+"Ah, good morning, Scalscope! How is the Marchioness of Cheshire this
+fine morning?"
+
+Scalscope smiled deferentially at the little joke.
+
+"I presume you mean Lady Tabitha? Her ladyship is doing
+splendidly--better, I fancy, than could be expected under the
+circumstances."
+
+"Excellent, Scalscope! Delightful! Where is she?"
+
+At that moment a large Maltese cat, cognizant by some unknown instinct
+that she was the subject of this matutinal conversation, stalked slowly
+out of a patch of sunshine and rubbed herself between Sir Penniston's
+broadcloth-covered calves. The surgeon bent over and felt carefully of
+her foreleg, but the feline did not flinch; on the contrary, she
+screwed round her head and thrust it into the doctor's hand.
+
+"Perfect!" exclaimed Sir Penniston, his face lighting with a smile of
+scientific satisfaction. "Absolutely perfect! Scalscope, you have lived
+to participate in the highest achievement of modern surgery! Is the
+patient in the operating room? Very good. The gentlemen assembled?
+Excellent! While you are administering the somni-chloride I will
+announce our success."
+
+He bowed to the other assistants and, followed by the Marchioness of
+Cheshire, opened the door which led to the platform of the operating
+theater. Some dozen or fifteen professional-looking gentlemen rose as he
+made his appearance and bowed. A young woman with her arm in a sling sat
+by the table attended by a couple of women nurses.
+
+"Good morning, gentlemen! Good morning!" remarked Sir Penniston. "Mr.
+Jermyn, will you kindly prepare the patient? My friends, I have the
+pleasure of being able to announce to you, and thus permitting you in a
+measure to share in, what I regard as the most extraordinary achievement
+of our profession."
+
+A murmur of interest and appreciation made itself audible from the
+physicians who had resumed their seats upon the benches. If Sir
+Penniston regarded anything as remarkable, it must indeed be so, and
+they awaited his next words expectantly.
+
+"The problem, gentlemen, of limb-grafting has been solved!" he announced
+modestly.
+
+The assembled surgeons gazed at one another in amazement.
+
+"You may perhaps recall," continued the baronet, "that it has for years
+been my particular hobby, or, I should more properly say, theory, that
+there was no reason in the world why, if a severed finger or a nose
+could be replaced by surgery, the same should not be true of a major
+part, such as a hand or leg; and why, if a limb once severed could be
+replaced upon its stump, another person's might not be used.
+
+"Many gentlemen eminent in our profession, some of whom I believe I see
+before me, gave it as their opinion that such an operation was
+impossible. A few--and most of these, I regret to say, were upon the
+other side of the Atlantic--agreed with me that it could and would
+ultimately be accomplished. I studied the problem for years. Was it our
+inability to nourish a part once severed or so to reënervate it as to
+unite tendons, muscles, or bone? The latter surely gave no trouble.
+Tendons were sutured every day, and under favorable circumstances their
+functions were restored, while nerves were frequently sutured and
+functional restoration recorded.
+
+"The question, therefore, seemed to narrow itself down to whether or not
+it was impossible to restore an arterial supply once cut off. Veins, of
+course, were frequently cut and sutured, and performed perfectly
+afterwards. Was there no way to restore an artery? In other words, could
+a limb once severed be sufficiently nourished to restore it? This, then,
+became my special study--a fascinating study indeed, involving as it did
+the possibilities of untold benefit to mankind."
+
+Sir Penniston paused and glanced toward the table upon which was
+extended the now almost unconscious form of the patient. There was still
+plenty of time for him to conclude his remarks.
+
+"With a view, therefore, to observing whether a thin glass tube would be
+tolerated in a sterilized state within an artery (the only possible
+means I could devise to allow a continued flow of blood and
+contemporaneous restoration), I made a number of half-inch pieces to
+suit the caliber of a dog's femoral, constricted them very slightly to
+an hour-glass shape, and smoothed their ends by heat, so that no surface
+roughness should induce clotting. Cutting the femorals across, I tied
+each end on the tube by a fine silk thread, and tied the thread ends
+together. Primary union resulted, and the dog's legs were as good as
+ever! The first step had been successfully accomplished."
+
+The assembled surgeons clapped their hands faintly in token of
+appreciation, and one or two murmured, "My word!-- Extraordinary!--
+Marvelous!" Sir Penniston bowed slightly and resumed:
+
+"I now added one more step to my experiments. I dissected out the
+trachial artery and vein near the axilla of a dog's forelimb, and,
+holding these apart, amputated the limb through the shoulder muscles and
+sawed through the bone, leaving the limb attached only by the vessels. I
+then sutured the bone with a silver wire and the nerves with fine silk.
+Each muscle I sutured by itself with catgut, making a separate series of
+continuous suturing of the _fascia lata_ and skin. The leg was then
+enveloped in sterilized dressing, a liberal use of iodoform gauze being
+the essential part. Over all, cotton and a plaster jacket were placed,
+leaving him three legs to walk on. The dog's leg united perfectly."
+
+The assembled gentlemen broke into loud applause. The patient was lying
+motionless, her deep inspirations showing that she was under the
+anæsthetic. But Sir Penniston was now lost in the enthusiasm of his
+subject.
+
+"Thus, gentlemen, I demonstrated that, if in an amputated limb an
+artery could be left, the limb would survive the division and reuniting
+of everything else, and had good ground for the belief that if an
+arterial supply could be restored to a completely amputated limb, _that_
+limb also might be grafted back to its original or to a corresponding
+stump.
+
+"The final experiment only remained--the complete amputation of a limb
+and its restoration--a combination of all the others--difficult,
+dangerous, delicate--and requiring much preparation, assistance, and
+time. I finally selected a healthy cat, amputated its foreleg, inserted
+a glass tube in the artery, and sutured bone, muscles, nerves, and skin.
+Complete restoration occurred! And after four months you have here
+before you this morning the cat herself, fat, well, and strong, and as
+good as ever!--Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!"
+
+The Marchioness of Cheshire ran quickly to Sir Penniston and leaped into
+his lap, while the gentlemen left the benches and hastened forward to
+seize the master's hand and to examine the cat in wonder.
+
+"There is nothing, therefore, in the way of grafting which cannot be
+successfully undertaken. A human arm or leg crushed at thigh or
+shoulder, and requiring amputation, would admit of Esmarch's bandage
+being applied to expel its blood and of being used after amputation. Why
+not another man's blood as well as its owner's? No reason in the world!
+Had we here a suitable forearm ready to be applied I have no doubt but
+that I could successfully replace it upon the stump of the one I am now
+about to remove. Hereafter, so long as there are limbs enough to go
+round--so long as the demand does not transcend the supply--none of our
+patients need fear the permanent loss of a member!"
+
+The surgeons overwhelmed him with their congratulations, but Sir
+Penniston modestly waived them aside. His triumph was the triumph of
+science--and its purity was not marred by any thought of personal
+glorification.
+
+"The Crispan operation," some one whispered. The others caught it up.
+"The Crispan operation," they repeated. A slight look of gratification
+made itself apparent upon Sir Penniston's rosy countenance.
+
+"Thank you, gentlemen! Thank you! Mr. Jermyn, is the patient quite
+ready? Yes? We will proceed, gentlemen. My instruments, if you please."
+
+Among those who left the operating theater an hour later was Sir Richard
+Mortmain.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+The opalescent light from the bronze electric lamp on the mahogany
+writing table disclosed two gentlemen, whose attitudes and expressions
+left no doubt as to the serious import of their discussion. At the same
+time the _membra disjecta_ of afternoon tea which remained upon the teak
+tabaret, together with the still smoking butt of an Egyptian cigarette
+distilling its incense in a steadily perpendicular gray column toward
+the ceiling from a jade jar used as an ash receiver, showed that for one
+of them at least the situation had admitted of physical amelioration.
+The gentleman beside the table had rested his high, narrow forehead upon
+the delicate fingers of his left hand, and with contracted eyebrows was
+gazing in a baffled manner toward his companion, who had extended his
+limbs at length before the heavy chair in which he reclined, and with
+his elbows upon its arms was holding his finger tips lightly against
+each other before his face. To those who knew Ashley Flynt this meant
+that the last word had been spoken, and that nothing remained but to
+accept the situation as he stated it and follow his advice.
+
+His heavy yet shrewd countenance, whose florid hue bespoke a modern
+adjustment of golf to a more traditional use of port, had that cold,
+vacant look which it displayed when the mind behind the mask had
+recorded Q. E. D. beneath its unseen demonstration. The gentleman at
+the table twitched his shoulders nervously, slowly raised his head, and
+leaned back into his chair.
+
+"And you say that there is absolutely nothing which can be done?" he
+repeated mechanically.
+
+"I have already told you, Sir Richard," replied Flynt in even, incisive
+tones, "that the last day of grace expires to-morrow. Unless the three
+notes are immediately taken up you will be forced into bankruptcy. Your
+property and expectations are already mortgaged for more than they are
+worth. Your assets of every sort will not return your creditors--I
+should say your creditor--fifteen per cent. Seventy-nine thousand
+pounds, principal and interest--can you raise it or even a substantial
+part of it? No, not five thousand! You have no choice, so far as I can
+see, but to go into bankruptcy, unless--" He hesitated rather
+deprecatingly.
+
+"Well!" cried Sir Richard impatiently, "unless----"
+
+"Unless you marry."
+
+The baronet drew himself up and a flush crept into his cheeks and across
+his forehead.
+
+"As your legal adviser," continued Flynt unperturbed, "I give it as my
+opinion that your only alternative to bankruptcy is a suitable marriage.
+Of course, for a man of your position in society a mere engagement might
+be enough to----"
+
+Sir Richard sprang quickly to his feet and stepped in front of his
+solicitor.
+
+"To induce the money lenders to advance the amount necessary to put me
+on my feet? Bah! Flynt, how dare you make such a suggestion! If you were
+not my solicitor--Good heavens, that I should ever be brought to this!"
+
+Flynt shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"So far as that goes, bankruptcy is the cheapest way to pay one's
+debts."
+
+His client uttered an ejaculation of disgust. Then suddenly the red
+deepened in his cheeks and he clenched his white hand until the thin
+blue veins stood out like cords.
+
+"Curse him!" he cried in a voice shaken by anger. "Curse him now and
+hereafter! Why did I ever take advantage of his pretended generosity? He
+meant to ruin me! Why was I ever born with tastes that I could not
+afford to gratify? Why must I surround myself with music and flowers and
+marbles? He saw his chance, stimulated my extravagance, seduced my
+intellect, and now he casts me into the street a beggar! How I hate him!
+I believe I could _kill_ him!"
+
+Sir Richard turned quickly. The door had opened to admit the silent,
+deferential figure of Joyce, the butler.
+
+"Pardon me, Sir Richard. A clerk from Mr. Flynt's office, sir, with a
+package. Shall I let him in?"
+
+Mortmain still stood with his fist trembling in mid-air, and it was a
+moment before he regained sufficient control of himself to reply:
+
+"Yes, yes; let him in."
+
+The butler nodded to some one just behind him, and a nondescript,
+undersized man cringingly entered the room and stood hesitatingly by the
+threshold.
+
+"Have you the papers, Flaggs?" inquired Flynt.
+
+"Here, sir," replied the other, drawing forth a bundle tied with red
+tape and handing it to his employer.
+
+"Very good. You need not return to the office. Good night."
+
+"Good night, sir. Thank you, sir," mumbled Flaggs, and casting a
+furtive, beetling glance in the direction of Sir Richard, he shambled
+out.
+
+The solicitor followed him with his eye until the door had closed behind
+him, and then shrugged his shoulders for the second time.
+
+"My dear Sir Richard," he remarked, "many of our most distinguished
+peers have gone through bankruptcy. It will all be the same a year
+hence. Society will be as glad as ever to receive you. Your name will
+command the same respect and likely enough the same credit. Bankruptcy
+is still eminently respectable. As for Lord Russell--try to forget him.
+It is enough that you owe him the money."
+
+Mortmain's anger had been followed by the reaction of despair. Now he
+groped for a cigarette, and, drawing a jeweled match box from his
+pocket, lit it with trembling fingers.
+
+Flynt arose.
+
+"That's right!" he exclaimed; "just be sensible about it. Meet me
+to-morrow at my office at ten o'clock and we will call in Lord Russell's
+solicitors for a consultation. It will be amicable enough, I assure you.
+Well, I must be off. Good night." He extended his hand, but Mortmain had
+thrust his own into his trousers' pockets.
+
+"And you say nothing can prevent this?"
+
+"Why, yes," returned Flynt in a sarcastic tone; "I believe two things
+can do so."
+
+"Indeed," inquired Sir Richard. "What may they be?"
+
+Flynt had stepped impatiently to the door, which he now held half open.
+Sir Richard had failed to send him a draft for his last bill.
+
+"A fire from heaven to consume the notes--coupled with the death of Lord
+Russell--or your own. Good night!"
+
+The door closed abruptly and Sir Richard Mortmain was left alone.
+
+"The death of Lord Russell or my own!" he repeated with a harsh laugh.
+"Agreeable fellow, Flynt!" Then the bitter smile died out of his face
+and the lines hardened. Over on the heavy onyx mantel, between two
+grotesque bronze Chinese vases from whose ponderous sides dragons with
+bristling teeth and claws writhed to escape, a Sèvres clock chimed six,
+and was echoed by a dim booming from the outer hall.
+
+Mortmain glanced with regret about the little den that typified so
+perfectly the futility of his luxurious existence. The deadened walls
+admitted hardly a suggestion of the traffic outside. By a flower-set
+window the open piano still held the score of "Madame Butterfly," the
+opening performance of which he was to attend that evening with Lady
+Bella Forsythe. A bunch of lilies of the valley stood at his elbow upon
+the massive table that never bore anything upon its polished surface but
+an ancient manuscript, an etching, or a vase of flowers. Delicate
+cabinets showed row upon row of grotesque Capodimonte, rare Sèvres and
+Dresden porcelains, jade, and other examples of ceramic art. Two
+Rembrandts, a Corot, and a profile by Whistler occupied the wall space.
+The mantel was given over to a few choice antique bronzes, covered with
+verdigris. The only concession to modern utilitarianism was an extension
+telephone standing upon a bracket in the corner behind the fireplace.
+
+The sole surviving member of his family, Mortmain had inherited from
+his father, Sir Mortimer, a discriminating intellect and artistic
+tastes, united with a gentle, engaging, and unambitious disposition,
+derived from his Italian mother. Carelessly indifferent to his social
+inferiors, or those whom he regarded as such, he was brilliantly
+entertaining with his equals--a man of moods, conservative in habit, yet
+devoted to society, expensive in his mode of life, given to
+hospitality--and a spendthrift. These qualities combined to make him
+caviare to the general, an enigma to the majority, and the favorite of
+the few, whose favorite he desired to be. He had never married, for his
+calculation and his laziness had jumped together to convince him that he
+could be more comfortable, more independent, and more free to pursue his
+music and kindred tastes, if single. Altogether, Sir Richard, though
+perhaps a trifle selfish, was by no means a bad fellow, and one whose
+temperament fitted him to be what he was--a leader in matters of taste,
+a connoisseur, and an esteemed member of the gay world.
+
+No doubt, as Flynt had suggested, he could have liberated himself
+financially by donning the golden shackles of an aristocratic marital
+slavery. But his soul revolted at the thought of marrying for money, not
+only at the moral aspect of it, but because a certain individual
+tranquillity had become necessary to his mode of life. He was forty and
+a creature of habit. A conventional marriage would be as intolerable as
+earning his living. On the other hand, the odium of a bankruptcy
+proceeding, the publicity, the vulgarity of it, and the loss of prestige
+and position which it would necessarily involve brought him face to face
+with the only alternative which Flynt had flung at him in parting--the
+death of Lord Russell or his own.
+
+He had known that without being told. Months before, the silver-mounted
+pistol which was to round out his consistently inconsistent existence
+had been concealed among the linen in the bureau of his Louis XV
+bedroom, but it was to be invoked only when no other course remained.
+That nothing else did remain was clear. Flynt had read his client's
+sentence in that brutally unconscious jest.
+
+On the day of his interview with Flynt he was one of the most highly
+regarded critics of music and art in London, and his own brilliant
+accomplishments as a virtuoso had been supplemented by a lavish
+generosity toward struggling painters and musicians who found easy
+access to his purse and table, if not to his heart.
+
+He had introduced Drausche, the Austrian pianist, to the musical world
+at a heavy financial loss and had made several costly donations to the
+British Museum, in addition to which his collection of scarabs was one
+of the most complete on record and demanded constant replenishing to
+keep up to date. His expensive habits had required money and plenty of
+it, and when his patrimony had been exhausted he had mortgaged his
+expectations in his uncle's estate to launch the Austrian genius. It had
+been a lamentable failure. Mortmain's friends had said plainly enough
+that Drausche could play no better than his patron. This of itself
+implied no mean talent, but the public had resolutely refused to pay
+five shillings a ticket to hear the pianist, and the money was gone. Sir
+Richard had found himself in the hollow position of playing Mæcenas
+without the price, and rather than change his pose and his manner of
+life had borrowed twenty-five thousand pounds four years before from an
+elderly peer, who combined philanthropy and what some declared to be
+usury with a high degree of success.
+
+There were those who hinted that this eminently respectable aristocrat
+robbed Peter more than he paid Paul, but Lord Gordon Russell was a man
+with whose reputation it was not safe to take liberties. The next year
+Mortmain had renewed his note, and, in order to save his famous
+collection from being knocked down at Christie's, had borrowed
+twenty-five thousand more. The same thing happened the year after, and
+now all three notes were three days overdue.
+
+Sir Richard responded to the announcement of the little Sèvres clock by
+pressing a button at the side of his desk, which summons was speedily
+answered by Joyce.
+
+"My fur coat, if you please, Joyce."
+
+"Very good, sir." Joyce combined the eye of an eagle with the stolidity
+of an Egyptian mummy.
+
+Mortmain arose, stepped to the fire, rubbed his thin, carefully kept
+fingers together, then seated himself at the piano and played a few
+chords from the overture. As he sat there he looked anything but a
+bankrupt upon the eve of suicide--rather one would have said, a young
+Italian musician, just ready to receive and enjoy the crowning pleasures
+of life. The thin light of the heavily shaded lamps brought out the
+ivory paleness of his face and hands, and the delicate, sensitive
+outline of his form, as with eyes half closed and head thrown back he
+ran his fingers with facile skill across the keyboard.
+
+"Your coat, sir," said Joyce.
+
+Mortmain arose and presented his arms while the servant deftly threw on
+the seal-lined garment, and handed his master his silk hat, gloves, and
+gold-headed stick.
+
+"I am going for a short walk, Joyce. I shall be back by seven. You can
+reach me at the club, if necessary."
+
+Joyce held open the door of the study and then hurried ahead through the
+luxuriously furnished hall to push open the massive door at the
+entrance. On the threshold Mortmain turned and, looking Joyce in the
+eye, said sharply:
+
+"Why did you let that fellow Flaggs follow you to the door of my study,
+instead of leaving him in the hall?"
+
+"I beg pardon, sir," replied the servant, "but he slipped behind me
+afore I knew it, sir. He was a rum one, anyway, sir--a bit in liquor, I
+fancy, sir."
+
+Mortmain turned and passed out without reply. He hated intruders and had
+not liked the way in which Flynt had calmly received the clerk in his
+private study. On the whole, he regarded the solicitor as presuming.
+
+It was dark already and the street lamps glowed nebulously through the
+gathering fog. The air was chilly, and a thick mealy paste, half sleet,
+half water, formed a sort of icing upon the sidewalk, which made walking
+slippery and uncomfortable. Few people were abroad, for fashionable
+London was in its clubs and boudoirs, and the workers trudged in an
+entirely different direction.
+
+The club was but a few streets away, and it was only ten minutes after
+the hour when he entered it and strolled carelessly through the rooms.
+No one whom he cared particularly to see was there, and the fresh, if
+bitter, December air outside seemed vastly preferable to the stuffy
+atmosphere of the smoke-filled card and reading rooms. Therefore, as he
+had nearly an hour before it would be time to dress, he left the club,
+and, with the vague idea of extending his evening ramble, turned
+northward. Unconsciously he kept repeating Flynt's words: "The death of
+Lord Russell or your own." Then, without heed to where he was going, he
+fell into a reverie, in which he pondered upon the emptiness and
+uselessness of his life.
+
+At length he entered a large square, and found himself asking what was
+so familiar in the picket fence and broad flight of steps that led up to
+the main entrance of the mansion on the corner. A wing of the house made
+out into a side street and presented three brilliantly lighted windows
+to the night. Two were empty, but on the white shade of the third, only
+a few feet above the sidewalk, appeared the sharp shadow of a man's head
+bending over a table. Now and then the lips moved as if their owner were
+addressing some other occupant of the chamber. It was the head of an old
+man, bald and shrunken.
+
+Mortmain muttered an oath. What tricks was Fate trying to play with him
+by leading his footsteps to the house of the very man who, on the
+following morning, would ruin him as inevitably and inexorably as the
+sun would rise! A wave of anger surged through him and he shook his fist
+at the shadow on the curtain, exclaiming as he had done in his study
+half an hour before, "Curse him!"
+
+"Ain't got much bloomin' 'air, 'as 'e, guv'nor?" said a thick voice at
+his elbow.
+
+Sir Richard started back and beheld by the indistinct light of the
+street lamp the leering face of Flaggs, the clerk.
+
+"Tha'sh yer frien' S'Gordon Russell," continued the other with easy
+familiarity. "A bloomin' bad un, says I. 'Orrid li'l bald 'ead! Got'sh
+notes, too. _Your_ notes, S'Richard. Don't like 'im myself!"
+
+Mortmain turned faint. This wretched scrivener had stumbled upon or
+overheard his secret. That he was drunk was obvious, but that only made
+him the more dangerous.
+
+"Take yourself off, my man. It's too cold out here for you," ordered the
+baronet, slipping a couple of shillings into his hand.
+
+"Than' you, S'Richard," mumbled Flaggs, leaning heavily in Mortmain's
+direction. "I accept this as a 'refresher.' Although you've never given
+me a retainer! Ha! ha! Not so bad, eh? Lemme tell you somethin'. 'Like
+to kill 'im,' says you? Kill 'im, says I. Le's kill 'im together. 'Ere
+an' now! Eh?"
+
+"Leave me, do you hear?" cried the baronet. "You're in no condition to
+be on the street."
+
+Flaggs grinned a sickly grin.
+
+"Same errand as you, your worship. Both 'ere lookin' at li'l old bald
+'ead. Look at 'im now----"
+
+He raised his finger and pointed at the window, then staggered backward,
+lost his balance, and fell over the curb along the gutter. In another
+instant a policeman had him by the collar and had jerked him to his
+feet. The fall had so dazed the clerk that he made no resistance.
+
+"I 'ope 'e didn't hoffer you no violence, Sir Richard," remarked the
+bobby, touching his helmet with his unoccupied hand. "Hit's
+disgraceful--right in front of Lord Russell's, too!"
+
+"No, he was merely offensive," replied Mortmain, recognizing the
+policeman as an old timer on the beat. "Thank you. Good night."
+
+The baronet turned away as the bobby started toward the station house,
+conducting his bewildered victim by the nape of the neck. Without
+heeding direction, Mortmain strode on, trying to forget the drunken
+Flaggs and the little bald head in the window. The clerk's words had
+created in him a feeling of actual nausea, so that a perspiration broke
+out all over his body and he walked uncertainly. After he had covered
+half a mile or so, the air revived him, and, having taken his bearings,
+he made a wide circle so as to avoid Farringham Square again, and at the
+same time to approach his own house from the direction opposite to that
+in which he had started. He still felt shocked and ill--the same
+sensation which he had once experienced on seeing two navvies fighting
+outside a music hall. He remembered afterwards that there seemed to be
+more people on the streets as he neared his home, and that a patrol
+wagon passed at a gallop in the same direction. A hundred yards farther
+on he saw a long envelope lying in the slush upon the sidewalk, and
+mechanically he picked it up and thrust it in the pocket of his coat.
+Joyce came to the door just as the hall clock boomed seven. Sir Richard
+had been gone exactly an hour.
+
+"Fetch me a brandy and soda," ordered the baronet huskily, and stepped
+into the study without removing his furs. The fire had been replenished
+and was cracking merrily, but it sent no answering glow through Sir
+Richard's frame. The shadow of the little bald head still rested like a
+weight upon his brain, and his hands were moist and clammy. He thrust
+them into his pockets and came into contact with the wet manila cover
+of the envelope, and he drew it forth and tossed it upon the table as
+Joyce entered with the brandy.
+
+The butler removed his master's coat and noiselessly left the room,
+while Mortmain drained the glass and then carelessly examined the
+envelope. The names of "Flynt, Steele & Burnham" printed in the upper
+left-hand corner caught his eye. The names of his own solicitors! That
+was a peculiar thing. Perhaps Flynt had dropped it--or Flaggs. He turned
+it over curiously. It was unsealed, as if it had formed one of a package
+of papers. The baronet lifted the envelope to the lamp and peeped within
+it. There were three thin sheets of paper covered with writing, and
+unconsciously he drew them forth and examined them. At the foot of each,
+in delicate, firm characters, appeared his own name staring him
+familiarly in the face. In the corners were the unmistakable figures
+£25,000. He rubbed his forehead and read all three carefully. There
+could be no doubt of it--they were his own three notes of hand to Lord
+Gordon Russell. Fate was playing tricks with him again.
+
+"A fire from heaven to consume the notes," Flynt had said. Here were the
+notes--there was the fire. Had Heaven perhaps really interposed to save
+him? Was this chance or Providence? With a short breath the baronet
+grasped the notes and took a step toward the hearth. As he did so the
+extension telephone by the mantel began to ring excitedly. His heart
+thumped loudly as, with a feeling of guilt, he relaid the notes upon the
+table and seized the telephone.
+
+"Yes--yes--this is Mortmain!"
+
+"Richard," came the voice of a friend at the club in anxious tones, "are
+you there? Are you at home?"
+
+"Yes--yes!" repeated the baronet breathlessly. "What is it?"
+
+"Have you heard the news--the news about Lord Russell?"
+
+Mortmain's head swam with a whirl of premonition.
+
+"No," he replied, trying to master himself, while the perspiration again
+broke out over his body. "What news? What has happened?"
+
+"Lord Russell was murdered in his library at half after six this
+evening. Some one gained access to the room and killed the old man at
+his study table."
+
+"Killed Lord Russell!" gasped Sir Richard. "Have they caught the
+murderer?"
+
+"No," continued his friend. "The assassin escaped by one of the windows
+into the street. The police have taken possession. There is nothing to
+indicate who did the deed. There was blood everywhere. His secretary, a
+man named Leach, was discharged two days ago and a general alarm has
+been sent out for him."
+
+"This is terrible," groaned Sir Richard in horror.
+
+"It is, indeed. I thought you ought to know. I may see you at the opera.
+If not--good night."
+
+The receiver fell from the baronet's fingers, and the room grew black as
+he clutched at the mantel with his other hand. He staggered slightly,
+tried to regain his equilibrium, and in so doing upset one of the bronze
+dragon vases which grinned down upon him.
+
+The vase fell, and the baronet clutched at it in its descent. It was too
+late. The heavy bronze crashed downward to the floor carrying Sir
+Richard with it, and one of the verdigris-covered dragon's fangs pierced
+his right hand.
+
+Mortmain uttered a moan and lay motionless on the floor. The little
+Sèvres clock ticked off forty seconds and then softly chimed the
+quarter, while the blood from the baronet's hand spurted in a tiny
+stream upon the rug.
+
+[Illustration: "Mortmain . . . lay motionless on the floor."]
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+When Sir Richard Mortmain next opened his eyes after his fall he found
+himself in his bedchamber. The curtains were tightly drawn, allowing
+only a shimmer of sunshine to creep in and play upon the ceiling; an
+unknown woman in a nurse's uniform was sitting motionless at the foot of
+his bed; the air was heavy with the pungent odor of iodoform, and his
+right arm, tightly bandaged and lying extended upon a wooden support
+before him, throbbed with burning pains. Too weak to move, unable to
+recall what had brought him to such a pass, he raised his eyebrows
+inquiringly, and in reply the nurse laid her finger upon her lips and
+reaching toward a stand beside the bed held a tumbler containing a glass
+tube to the baronet's lips. Mortmain sucked the contents from the
+tumbler and felt his pulse strengthen--then weakness manifested itself
+and he sank back, his lips framing the unspoken question, "What has
+happened?"
+
+The nurse smiled--she was a pretty, plump young person--not the kind Sir
+Richard favored (Burne-Jones was his type), and whispered:
+
+"You have been unconscious over twelve hours. You must lie still. You
+have had a bad fall and your hand is injured."
+
+In some strange and unaccountable way the statement called to Mortmain's
+fuddled senses a confused recollection of a scene in Hauptmann's "Die
+Versunkene Glöcke," and half unconsciously he repeated the words:
+
+"I _fell_. I--fe--l--l!"
+
+"Yes, you did, indeed!" retorted the pretty nurse. "But Sir Penniston
+will never forgive me if I let you talk. How is your arm?"
+
+"It burns--and burns!" answered the baronet.
+
+"That horrid vase crushed right through the palm. Rather a nasty wound.
+But you will be all right presently. Do you wish anything?"
+
+Suddenly complete mental capacity rushed back to him. The disagreeable
+scene with Flaggs, the finding of the notes, the news of Russell's
+murder, and his accident. The murder! He must learn the details. And the
+notes. What had he done with them? He could not recollect, try hard as
+he would. Were they on the table? His head whirled and he grew suddenly
+faint. The nurse poured out another tumbler from a bottle and again held
+the tube to his lips. How delicious and strengthening it was!
+
+"Please get me a newspaper!" said Sir Richard.
+
+"A newspaper!" cried the nurse. "Nonsense! I'll do no such thing!"
+
+"Then please see if there are some papers in an envelope lying on the
+writing table in my private study."
+
+The nurse seemed puzzled. Where aristocratic patients were concerned,
+particularly if they were in a weakened condition, she was accustomed to
+accommodate them. She hesitated.
+
+"At once!" added Sir Richard.
+
+The nurse tiptoed out of the room, and in the course of a few moments
+returned.
+
+"The butler says that Mr. Flynt's clerk, a man named Faggs, or Flaggs,
+or something of the sort, came back for them half an hour ago. He
+explained that he thought Mr. Flynt might have left some papers by
+mistake, and the butler supposed it was all right and let him have them.
+The name of your solicitors was upon the envelope."
+
+Sir Richard stared at her stupidly. A queer feeling of horror and
+distrust pervaded him, the very same feeling which his first sight of
+the clerk had inspired in him. What could Flaggs have known of the
+notes? The clerk himself could not have committed the ghastly deed,
+since he had been under arrest at the time--but might he not have been
+an accomplice? Were the notes part of some terrible plot to enmesh
+_him_, Sir Richard Mortmain, in the murder? Was it a scheme of
+blackmail? The blood surged to his head and dimmed his eyesight. But why
+had Flaggs taken them away? Had he left them on the street hoping that
+Sir Richard would find them and bring them into the house, so that he
+could testify to having found them in the study? But, if so, why had he
+risked the possibility of their having been destroyed before he could
+regain them? Such a supposition was most unlikely. It must have been
+merely chance. The fellow had probably sneaked in simply to see what he
+could find. And what had he found! A shiver of terror quenched for an
+instant the burning of Mortmain's body. A horrible vision of himself
+standing outside the window of Lord Gordon Russell took shape before
+him. What if people should say--! He had been heard by Joyce and the
+clerk to express his hatred of the old man and his willingness to kill
+him. In addition there were the notes, overdue and about to be
+protested, which Flaggs had found in his study within twelve hours of
+Lord Russell's murder. Motive enough for any crime. Moreover, the
+policeman had seen him loitering there at almost the exact moment of the
+homicide!
+
+These momentous facts came crashing down upon his brain with the weight
+of stones, numbing for an instant his exquisite torture--then reason
+reasserted herself. Lord Russell was dead. If circumstances seemed to
+point in his direction, he had only to deny that the notes had been in
+his possession, and certainly his word would be taken as against that of
+the drunken clerk of a solicitor. Moreover, the notes were obviously not
+in the possession of the executors. Should, by any chance, no memoranda
+of them remain he might never be called upon to honor them. At all
+events, his bankruptcy had, for the time at least, been averted. Even
+were their existence known, legal procedure would intervene to give him
+time to evolve some means of escape--perhaps, in default of aught else,
+a marriage of convenience. Sir Richard, in spite of the burning pain in
+his right arm, leaned back his head with a sensation of relief.
+
+A soft knock came at the door and he heard the nurse's voice murmuring
+in low tones; then the curtain was partially raised and he recognized
+the figures of Sir Penniston Crisp and his young assistant.
+
+"Ah, my dear Mortmain! When you left me yesterday morning I hardly
+expected to see you so soon again. And how do you find yourself?" was
+the baronet's cheery salutation.
+
+Sir Richard smiled faintly.
+
+"Rather a nasty wound," continued the surgeon. "Fickles, hand me those
+bandage scissors. Well, we must take a look at it." And he seated
+himself comfortably by the bedside.
+
+Miss Fickles, who had elevated Sir Richard to a sitting posture, now
+handed Sir Penniston the scissors, and the great physician leisurely cut
+the bandage from the arm. Mortmain winced with pain and closed his eyes.
+For an instant the outer air soothed the burning palm and forearm, then
+the blood crept into the veins and the pain became veritable agony.
+
+"Hm!" remarked Sir Penniston. "I must open this up. It needs attending
+to."
+
+He might well say so, for the edges of the wound showed tinges of
+yellow, and the hand itself was torn pitifully.
+
+"Scalscope, pass those instruments to Miss Fickles, and open that bottle
+of somni-chloride. I shall have to give you a whiff of anæsthetic,
+Mortmain. These little exploring expeditions are apt to be painful,
+however gentle we try to be. Just enough to make you a mere
+spectator--you will not lose consciousness. Wonderful, isn't it? I'm
+afraid I shall have to pick out some slivers of bone and trim off the
+edges a little. It will only take a moment or two. Then a nice bandage
+and you will be quite at ease."
+
+While Jermyn was emptying Sir Penniston's bag of its heterogeneous
+contents, Miss Fickles boiled the surgeon's implements in a tray of
+water over a tiny electric stove, and then arranged them in order upon a
+soft bed of padded cotton. Scalscope pulled a table to the bedside, and
+laid out with military precision rolls of linen, absorbents, antiseptic
+gauze, scissors, tape, thread, needles, and finally the little bottle of
+somni-chloride. The nurse lowered Sir Richard back upon the pillow and
+quickly twisted a fresh towel into a cone.
+
+"How science leaps onward," continued Sir Penniston, meditatively
+taking the cone in his left hand. "Anodyne, ether, chloroform, nitrous
+oxide, ethyl-chloride, and at last the greatest of all boons,
+somni-chloride! And all within my lifetime--that is really the most
+extraordinary part of it. Ah, what are the miracles of art to the
+miracles of science? Think of being able at last, as you heard me
+announce, to feel sure of never permanently losing a limb!"
+
+He allowed a single drop from the bottle to fall into the cone. Even as
+it descended it resolved itself into a lilac-colored volatile filling
+the cone like a horn of plenty. Sir Penniston held it with a smile just
+over Mortmain's head and suffered it to escape gently downward. At the
+first faint odor the baronet felt a perfect calm steal over his tired
+brain, at the second he seemed translated from his body and hovering
+above it, retaining the while an almost supernatural acuteness of eye
+and ear. Of bodily pain he felt nothing. Then Crisp inverted the cone
+and poured out the lilac smoke in a faint iridescent cloud, which eddied
+round the baronet's head and filled his nostrils with the sweet
+fragrance of an old-fashioned garden. Its perfume almost smothered him,
+and for a moment his eyes were blurred as if he had inhaled a breath of
+strong ammonia. Then his sight cleared and he no longer smelled the
+flowers. The surgeon laid down the cone and took up a small, thin knife.
+
+"Fickles, hold the wrist; you, Scalscope, the fingers. Thank you, that
+will do nicely."
+
+Mortmain watched with fascinated interest as Sir Penniston applied the
+point to his palm. Then the surgeon suddenly raised his head and looked
+pityingly at Sir Richard. At the same moment the effect of the
+somni-chloride began to wear off and the baronet felt a throbbing in
+his hand. Jermyn also cast a glance of compassion at the patient, while
+Miss Fickles turned away her head as if unable to bear the sight of his
+suffering.
+
+"My poor Mortmain," said the surgeon. "I fear you can never use this
+hand again."
+
+Mortmain caught his breath and choked.
+
+"What do you mean?" he gasped, and the effort sent a sharp pain through
+his lungs. "Not use my hand again?" His words sounded like the roar of a
+waterfall.
+
+"I fear you cannot. It is an ugly-looking wound. I am sorry to say you
+will have to lose your hand. We shall be lucky if we can save the arm."
+
+Mortmain felt an extraordinary pity for himself. He sobbed aloud. He had
+been vaguely aware that certain unfortunate persons in lowly
+circumstances occasionally lost their limbs. He was accustomed to
+contribute handsomely toward the homes for cripples and the blind, but
+he had never associated such an affliction with himself. He could not
+appreciate the proximity of it. There must be a mistake--or an
+alternative.
+
+"No, no, no!" he exclaimed heavily. "Surely, you can restore my hand by
+treatment. I do not care how painful or tedious it may be. Why, I _must_
+have my hand. I have it now. Leave it as it is. I shall recover in
+time."
+
+Sir Penniston smiled cheerfully.
+
+"I am sorry," he repeated, and Mortmain fancied that he detected a gleam
+of exultation in his eye. "Nothing can save it. Gangrene has already set
+in. The verdigris of the vase has poisoned the flesh. Do you think I
+would trifle with you? That is not my business. Be a man. It is hard;
+true enough. But it might be much worse."
+
+"But my music!" cried Mortmain in agony. "I shall be a miserable
+cripple! A fellow with an empty sleeve or a stuffed hand in a glove!
+Horrible!" He groaned.
+
+"You have still another," remarked the surgeon calmly. "Bind up this
+arm," he ordered, turning sharply to Jermyn. "Mortmain, I shall have to
+amputate your hand at the wrist within twelve hours. Do you desire a
+consultation? I assure you any physician would unhesitatingly give the
+same opinion. Still, if you desire----"
+
+The room swam about the baronet, and for an instant the two surgeons
+seemed like two ogres hovering aloft with bloodthirsty faces glowering
+down at his helpless body.
+
+Scalscope finished the bandage and tied the ends. Then he looked across
+at Crisp and remarked:
+
+"How fortunate, Sir Penniston, that your experiments have been concluded
+in time to save Sir Richard. He will be the very first to benefit by
+your great discovery!"
+
+Crisp smiled responsively.
+
+"What is that?" cried Mortmain. "Save me? What do you mean?"
+
+"Merely this, Mortmain. That if you are willing I may still give you a
+hand in place of this ruined one. It is possible, as I announced
+yesterday, to graft another in its place."
+
+Mortmain stared stupidly at Sir Penniston. A great weight seemed
+stifling him.
+
+"Did you really _mean_ it?" he gasped.
+
+"Precisely," returned the surgeon. "It will be difficult, but not
+particularly dangerous."
+
+"Another's hand!" groaned the baronet.
+
+"And why not?" eagerly continued the surgeon. "Surely some one will be
+found who can be induced for a proper consideration to assist in an
+operation that will restore to usefulness so distinguished a member of
+society."
+
+"But is it _right_?" gasped Mortmain. "Is it lawful to maim a
+fellow-creature merely to serve oneself?" The idea disgusted him.
+
+"As you please," remarked Crisp dryly. "If you are to avail yourself of
+this opportunity, which has never been offered to another, you must say
+so at once. If you are indifferent to the loss of your hand or distrust
+my skill, there is nothing left but to amputate and be done with it."
+
+"It cannot be right!" moaned Mortmain. "I know it is a wicked thing."
+
+"Right?" sneered Crisp. "Why, I almost believe that it would be a sin if
+I let this opportunity go by."
+
+"What is that?" cried Miss Fickles sharply.
+
+There was a sharp knock at the door and Ashley Flynt entered, with a
+strange look on his face. Like a flash it occurred to Mortmain that the
+solicitor had called to see him about the bankruptcy. He looked again,
+and a terrible thought possessed him that it was for something else that
+the lawyer had come. Was it about the murder? Was he already suspected?
+Apprehension dwarfed the horror of Sir Penniston's suggestion.
+
+"Ah, Flynt," said the surgeon, "I am glad you have come. You can advise
+our friend here. I have offered to give him a new hand in place of the
+one which he must lose. He's afraid that it is unlawful. Come, give us
+an opinion!"
+
+Flynt sank silently into an armchair and rested his finger tips lightly
+together.
+
+"Flynt," cried Mortmain, "what a terrible thing it is to deprive a
+fellow-creature of a limb. Is it legal? Is it not criminal?"
+
+Flynt gazed fixedly at Sir Richard for a moment without replying.
+
+"Situations sometimes arise," he remarked in a toneless voice, "where
+the results desired, even if they do not justify the means employed, at
+least render legal opinions superfluous."
+
+"I do not understand you," groaned Mortmain. "Do you mean that what Sir
+Penniston proposes is a crime?"
+
+"I mean that in a transaction of such moment the purely legal aspect of
+the case may be of slight importance."
+
+"Exactly!" exclaimed Sir Penniston, whose face had assumed an expression
+of uneasiness. "To be sure! How plain he puts things, Mortmain. The law
+does not concern us when the integrity of the human body is involved."
+
+"But if I require and insist upon your advice?" continued Mortmain. "You
+know that you are my solicitor."
+
+"In a matter of this kind I should refuse to give an opinion in a
+specific case touching the interest of a client," returned Flynt.
+
+"I must know the law!" cried the baronet.
+
+"Very well," replied Flynt. "I have examined the statutes and find that
+the maiming of another (save where such maiming is necessary to preserve
+his life or health), even with his consent, is a felony. That is the
+law, if you must have it."
+
+"Well, well!" exclaimed Crisp. "There are so many laws that one can't
+help violating some of them every day. What an absurd statute! It only
+shows how ignorant our legislators used to be! I am sure there were no
+scientific men in Parliament. It is nonsensical."
+
+Flynt gave a short laugh and arose.
+
+"My dear Sir Richard," he remarked dryly, "this is entirely a matter for
+your own conscience and that of your physician. I trust that you will
+soon recover. I have an important engagement. I must beg you to excuse
+me."
+
+"Gad, sir," cried Crisp, making a wry face toward the door as it closed
+behind the solicitor, "what a fellow that is! You might as well try to
+wring juice out of a paving stone. I feel quite irritated by him."
+
+"If I consent," said Mortmain, "do you think you can find a proper
+person to--to----"
+
+"My dear Mortmain," responded Sir Penniston eagerly, "leave that to us.
+You may be sure that we shall accept no hand that is not perfect in
+every way and adapted to your particular needs. You need give yourself
+not the slightest uneasiness upon that score, I assure you. Of course,
+you will have to pay for it, but I am convinced that in an affair of
+this kind a satisfactory adjustment can easily be made--say, two hundred
+pounds down and an annuity of fifty pounds. How does that strike you?
+Why, it would be a godsend to many a poor fellow--say a clerk. He earns
+a beggarly five pounds a month. You give him two hundred pounds and as
+much a year for doing nothing as he was earning working ten hours a
+day."
+
+The pains in Mortmain's hand had begun again with renewed intensity and
+his whole arm throbbed in response. He felt excited and feverish, and
+his thoughts no longer came with the same clearness and consecutiveness
+as before. It was evident to him that Crisp's diagnosis was correct. But
+shocking as was the realization that he, who had been in the prime of
+health but a few hours before, must now undergo a major operation, it
+was as nothing compared with the moral difficulty in which he found
+himself. All his inherited tendencies drew him back from a violation of
+the law, particularly a violation which included the maiming of a
+fellow-being; and so, for that matter, did all his acquired tastes and
+characteristics. On the other hand, his confidence in Crisp's skill and
+knowledge was such that he never for an instant doubted his ability
+successfully to achieve that which he had proposed.
+
+"But the law! The law!" cried Mortmain in a last and almost pathetic
+effort to oppose that which he now in reality desired. Crisp laughed
+almost sneeringly.
+
+"What is the law? The law is for the general good, not the individual.
+Are we to follow it blindly when to do so would be suicidal? Bah! The
+law never dares transgress the sacred circle of a physician's
+discretion."
+
+"I suppose that is quite true!" exclaimed Sir Richard faintly. "I leave
+it to you. Do as you think best. I will follow your instructions. But I
+am suffering. My hand tortures me horribly. Let us have it over with as
+soon as possible. How soon can you make your arrangements?"
+
+"By this afternoon, Sir Richard."
+
+Mortmain sank back. In his eagerness he had half raised himself from the
+pillow, and now a sensation of nausea accompanied by dizziness took
+possession of him. He saw things dimly and in distorted forms. There
+was a strange roaring in his head as of a multitude of waters and he
+perceived that Crisp and Jermyn were talking eagerly together. He caught
+disconnected words muttered hurriedly in low tones. They moved slowly
+toward the door and he distinctly heard Crisp say as they passed out:
+
+"Yes, Flaggs is the very man!"
+
+The words filled him with a nameless terror.
+
+"Stop!" he cried, "stop! I will have nothing to do with that man--do you
+hear? Stop! Comeback!" But the door closed, and Mortmain, helpless and
+trembling, again fell back and shut his eyes.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+It was cold in the train--icy cold, and in spite of his fur coat Sir
+Richard found himself shivering. Only his arm hanging in a splint burned
+with the fires of hell, as if imps with red-hot pincers were slowly
+tearing apart the nerves. Sir Penniston, sitting opposite, smiled
+encouragingly at him.
+
+There were several people in the carriage. The lamps had been lighted
+and in the corner, beside a large black case, sat Jermyn. Next to him
+came Joyce, looking exceedingly respectable and very solemn. But the
+other three he did not remember to have seen before--that tall,
+white-whiskered man in the otter collar: he probably had been presented
+and Sir Richard had forgotten. Then there was a big, broad-shouldered
+fellow in a soft cap, and next to him a slender, white-faced youth whose
+chin was buried in the depths of his coat collar, and whose hands were
+thrust deep into his pockets. The big man looked out the window
+occasionally and inquired the time, but the youth beside him kept his
+eyes fast shut and hardly moved. Had he not been sitting bolt upright
+Sir Richard fancied that the latter might have been taken for a corpse.
+
+"Woxton next stop, gentlemen!" announced the guard, opening the door for
+an instant as the train paused at a way station. A cold blast of air
+followed and Mortmain's teeth chattered. It was quite dark in the
+compartment and he felt very weak and miserable. He could not remember
+getting aboard the train, but the purport of it all was unmistakable.
+The agonies of the morning rushed back across his memory, and his hand
+throbbed and twisted within the splint. He felt sick and faint and the
+atmosphere of the carriage seemed suffocating.
+
+"How much farther is it?" inquired the man in the otter collar. "We've
+been traveling for hours!"
+
+"Only eight miles," answered Crisp cheerfully. "It certainly has seemed
+an unearthly distance."
+
+There was a long silence punctuated only by the puffing of the engine
+and the shriek of the whistle. Suddenly the pale young man whimpered.
+The sound sent a chill to the marrow of Sir Richard's spine.
+
+"If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee--"
+whispered the youth. Then he fell to sobbing in the depths of his
+collar, but without opening his eyes.
+
+"Come, come, my man! None of that!" cried Crisp angrily. "You're a lucky
+fellow! Why, your fortune is as good as made."
+
+Mortmain shuddered.
+
+"If thy hand offend thee--" he repeated to himself. "If thy hand
+offend----"
+
+Then he became conscious of still another presence somewhere--a presence
+that watched him furtively, but hungrily, with eager, greedy eyes. He
+stared along the seats and into the crannies. Could it have been a face
+at the window? No, the black night rushed by steadily and blankly. And
+yet he could not convince himself that another face had not been there a
+moment before.
+
+The train slowed up with a screeching of the brakes and came to a stop.
+The door was flung open; his companions hurriedly arose, and the
+broad-shouldered young man placed his arm protectingly about the baronet
+and assisted him to the platform. A fine snow was sifting down silently
+over the lamplit road and upon two large depot wagons standing beside
+the station. Again Mortmain was conscious of a presence. He glanced
+quickly across the platform and thought he saw a shadow spring from a
+rear carriage and leap into the darkness of the bushes.
+
+"What was that?" he gasped.
+
+But the others paid no attention, being busily engaged in deporting
+their cases and portmanteaus. The train started on again. Only the
+station agent was left, his lantern making an opaque circle in the
+intense darkness of the snow-filled night.
+
+The horses champed impatiently, and as quickly as was possible the party
+divided and climbed into the wagons, Crisp, the nurse, and Mortmain
+entering the last. The doors were slammed to and they started. Still
+Mortmain felt convinced that they were not alone. Looking back just as
+they were leaving the dim lights of the station, he could have sworn
+that he saw the figure of a man running steadily along behind, crouching
+low against the road. To the south a distant glow bespoke the presence
+of a village, but the wagons swung sharply to the north and plunged into
+a wood.
+
+A drowsiness had come over the baronet and he pressed close to the
+nurse, terrified and shaken by the dread of some approaching peril. This
+hired man seemed nearer to him than any other living soul. He cried
+softly, fearing to be observed, and the tears coursed down his hot
+cheeks and lost themselves in his furs. Now and then he would listen
+intently for the sound of some one running, but he could hear nothing
+save the crunch of the wheels and the jingle of the harness. Yet he knew
+that just behind them, clinging to their wheel, was pressing that
+mysterious figure that had leaped into the darkness beside the station.
+
+After what seemed an hour, a bend in the road disclosed a single light
+not far ahead and in a few moments the wagons stopped before a high
+wall. The party got out and Crisp opened the gate. Mortmain stared
+fixedly down the road, waiting for the unbidden guest to creep swiftly
+into view.
+
+"Here we are!" cried Sir Penniston. "Wait a moment until I notify the
+farmer."
+
+As the surgeon hastened up the paved walk to the cottage, the wagons
+turned and started back at a brisk trot, like a home-going funeral
+procession. All the windows were dark and Mortmain clung sobbing to the
+nurse's arm.
+
+"Hit's all right, sir," whispered the latter sympathetically. "Hit's all
+right!"
+
+Slowly the party made their way to the porch. A light appeared in the
+lower windows, then the door was opened. The nurse, half carrying the
+baronet, helped him into the hall and seated him upon a wooden chair. As
+the door closed Mortmain saw a shadow at the gate.
+
+"Look! Look!" he cried. The warm air swallowed him up; he felt a rush of
+blood to his neck and face; the figures about him swayed and swam in the
+dim light; there was a stabbing pain in his hand and he knew no more.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+When Mortmain was able to reappear in society he was astonished to find
+that the murder of Lord Russell was no longer a matter of interest or of
+discussion. The temporarily shocked and horrified community had
+apparently within a short time placidly accepted it, and apart from
+occasional references in the newspapers, it was rapidly becoming a mere
+matter of history, taking its proper chronological place in the long
+list of London's unsolved mysteries. It had been given out at the time
+that the horrible death of his old friend had so prostrated the baronet
+that he had been threatened with total collapse, and had only been
+restored to health by remaining in bed under the constant care of a
+certain distinguished physician. At times Mortmain was almost inclined
+to believe this himself, for the ghastly night at the lonely farmhouse,
+his ensuing illness and slow recovery, seemed, in the full swing of the
+London season and contrasted with the brilliant colors of its
+festivities, less actuality than a dreadful nightmare which continually
+obtruded itself upon his recollection. He had resumed his place in
+fashionable life with his old assurance, picking up his cards where he
+had left them lying face downward upon the table. Within a week he was
+again "among those present" at every gathering of note, and he had
+dropped hints of his intention to give a new and unique musical
+entertainment which was to surpass anything of the kind theretofore
+attempted. He had also resumed his attentions to Lady Bella Forsythe
+with a definite purpose--that of rendering himself financially
+impregnable.
+
+But Sir Richard was not the same. His glass showed him to be paler than
+of yore, his eyes more deeply sunken, his hair touched at the edges with
+a ghost of white, the lines of his mouth more firmly marked. His friends
+jokingly told him that he was growing old. He had paid a heavy price for
+what he had bought, yet it was not loss of vitality, not physical shock
+alone that had thus aged him, but a ghastly, damning fact that never
+left him for an instant, waking or sleeping: _the fact that the man had
+died_. They had not told him at first--it might have affected his cure.
+The result upon his spiritual being when he learned of it had been no
+less disastrous. _The man had died._ There was no longer any pensioner
+to claim his annuity; no creditor even to demand the price of his awful
+bargain; no witness to testify to its hideous terms--he had fled the
+jurisdiction of all earthly courts. Sir Richard was free. But the
+thought of that life forfeited to his own egotism was a millstone about
+his neck, bowing him forever to the ground.
+
+He intentionally talked frankly of Lord Russell. The old man had been
+highly respected and, indeed, moderately prominent in philanthropic
+circles. Mortmain had made a point of going personally to see the
+bas-relief erected to his memory. He learned that the next of kin was a
+Devon man who never came up to town, and that the executors had taken
+possession almost immediately and disposed of the house to an American
+millionaire, who was even now remodeling the historic mansion, inserting
+Grecian columns and putting on a Château de Nevers roof. Of course he
+inspected this with friends, was properly disgusted, and seized the
+opportunity to gratify his curiously morbid hunger for the details of
+the murder. He learned that, though few of the facts were known to the
+public, opinion had crystallized into a settled acceptance that the
+murderer had made good his escape and that the identity of the murderer
+was known. In fact, the silence of Scotland Yard was rendered nugatory
+by the reward of £1,000 offered by the County Council for the
+apprehension of Saunders Leach, the recently discharged secretary of the
+philanthropist. Nothing had been heard of him since Lord Russell's
+butler had admitted him to the house, an hour or two before the murder,
+upon his representation that he had come to look over some papers at the
+request of his erstwhile master. The butler, a most respectable person,
+had introduced him into the library, where Lord Russell was, and
+departed. He had recalled afterwards--it had come out at the hearing at
+the Central Criminal Court--that he had heard the sound of voices raised
+at a high pitch, but, as his master was at times somewhat querulous,
+this had not particularly attracted his attention. An hour later, when
+he had brought the evening papers, he had discovered the aged man lying
+face downward upon his desk, and a window, bearing the bloody traces of
+the assassin, open to the night. And Leach had vanished--as if he had
+never lived.
+
+The thing most puzzling to Sir Richard, as to everybody else, was the
+failure of any apparent motive for so ghastly a deed. Leach, according
+to old Floyd the butler, had been a very decent sort of fellow, rather
+sickly Floyd took him to be, without any particular faults or virtues.
+It seemed to outrage reason to suppose that an anæmic little clerk
+could have murdered a helpless old man simply out of revenge for having
+lost his place. And then nothing had been stolen--that is, nobody but
+Sir Richard knew that anything had been stolen. Yet the public and the
+London County Council pronounced unhesitatingly as established fact that
+Saunders Leach was the assassin, and that he should be hunted down to
+the very ends of the world and, if need be, followed into the next. Only
+Scotland Yard remained silent after annexing the contents of the room,
+the windows, the carpet, and even portions of the faded paper from the
+very walls themselves. Then Parliament went into a convulsion over a
+proposed excise alteration and London forgot the murder of Lord Russell
+in its feverish interest in the expected legislative abortion. There was
+an appeal to the country; a premier retired to Italy; some few thousands
+were added to the credit column of the national ledger at the expense of
+a ministry, and once more the advent of royalty at St. James's dazzled
+the cockney eye and filled the cockney mouth to the stultification of
+the cockney brain. Lord Russell was forgotten--as completely as Saunders
+Leach--as totally as an isle sunk beneath the waters of oblivion.
+
+The first time Sir Richard had essayed to write he had been deliciously
+horrified at the ease with which his pencil had followed the pressure of
+his new fingers. His recent clothes added an extra inch to his sleeves,
+and his broad cuffs fully concealed the white seam that ran around his
+wrist. The hand itself served his purposes well enough, but unmistakably
+it was not his own. He never laid the two together--never let his eyes
+fall upon the vicarious fingers if he could avoid it, for inevitably a
+sickening sensation of repulsion followed. His own fingers were long
+and tapering, the nails fine with pronounced "crowns," the back of the
+hand slender and smooth; the new one was broader and hairy, the fingers
+shorter and square at the ends, the nails thick and dull with no
+"crowns," and the veins blue and prominent. There were too many pores!
+
+He loathed the thing, tell himself as often as he would that it was
+nothing but a mechanical device to supplement Nature. Physically he felt
+as if he were wearing a glove that was too small for him, into which he
+had been forced to stuff his hand. This seemed to produce a tight,
+swollen sensation which was the only indication of his abnormal
+condition. He ate, drove, used his keys, articulated his fingers, and
+even wrote with the same muscular freedom as before. His chirography
+actually and undeniably exhibited the same general characteristics, only
+intensified and with less certainty of stroke and pen-pressure. The
+letters which had previously been merely somewhat original in structure
+as suited a man of fashion, now became humpbacked and deformed. It was
+as though the spiritual qualities of Sir Richard's penmanship had shrunk
+away, leaving only the grotesque residue of a dwarfed and evil nature.
+
+But apart from the question of chirography one other manifestation
+constantly reminded Mortmain of his crime. This was an itching in the
+grafted hand whenever its possessor became angry or excited. Even hard
+physical exercise produced the same phenomenon. It seemed as if Nature,
+having provided for the circulation of a certain amount of blood, found
+on reaching this particular extremity that the supply exceeded the power
+of reception. If angered, he found himself indulging in ungovernable
+fits of passion, with his eyes suffused and his head buzzing. At times
+he experienced an almost irresistible impulse to throttle somebody. On
+the slightest provocation the fingers of his right hand would curve and
+clutch, and a fierce longing seize him to compass the extinction of life
+in some animate being--to feel the slackening of the muscles in some
+victim--an emotion elemental, barbarous, cruel, but keen, masterful and
+pervading. He had an exhilarating sensation of strength and vitality new
+to him. Moreover, his attitude toward his fellow-men had imperceptibly
+altered. Before his operation he had hated all evil doers and been
+strongly loyal to government and law; now he sympathized with the
+lawbreakers. In defying society and deliberately violating its statutes,
+he had allied himself with its enemies.
+
+This he realized and accepted. At any moment he might be called upon to
+face a criminal prosecution for the felony of mutilation; and there was
+still the peculiar and inexplicable silence of Flaggs in regard to the
+papers which he had taken away with him on the morning after the murder.
+No word had ever passed between them on the subject, and yet the notes
+were outstanding and in the hands of a more dangerous holder than even
+Lord Russell himself. By merely handing them to the executors, Flaggs
+could not only throw Sir Richard into bankruptcy, but could place him in
+the awkward position of having suppressed the notes at the time of Lord
+Russell's death. That, too, would lead to a still further and more
+delicate complication. He would naturally be asked how he had secured
+possession of the notes. It would be clear that they were in Lord
+Russell's hands at the time of the murder. Flaggs would explain that
+_he_ had procured them from Sir Richard. So far as _he_ was concerned,
+he had been safely "jugged" at the time of the murder. He could call a
+score of sergeants, matrons, and bobbies to prove that, and establish it
+by the police records themselves. Where, then, people would want to
+know, had Sir Richard obtained them? It would be a hard question to
+answer in such a way that the answer would carry any sort of conviction
+with it.
+
+No one, of course, would believe that he had found them, as in fact was
+the case. Any such explanation would excite instant suspicion. If he
+should say that he had paid them and had received the notes from Lord
+Russell's lawyers, inquiry would at once demonstrate that the lawyers
+had never had possession of the notes, or received any money from Sir
+Richard. If he said that he had taken the money to Lord Russell and
+received the notes _from him_, his own evidence would place him upon the
+scene of the murder at approximately the moment of it. Further, no draft
+in payment of the notes would be found among Lord Russell's papers, and
+the suspicion would immediately arise that he had proffered a forged
+draft to secure possession of the notes, and then murdered the old man
+to get it back.
+
+It was indeed a predicament of the worst sort. In Sir Richard the
+horrible unfairness of it bred a hatred for a society in which such
+things were possible. He looked at any moment to find himself made the
+defendant in a criminal prosecution, just or unjust--the unjust the more
+difficult of the two to escape. He needed money--money to fight with,
+money to live on, money to keep up his hollow pretense of
+respectability. And as his attitude toward society gradually changed,
+the dead-alive thing at his wrist with the white seam throbbed and
+itched until Mortmain longed fiercely to tear it off. At night he would
+dream--and this dream repeated itself over and over again--that he was
+fastened to some miserable convict, shackled by the wrist in such a way
+that somehow they two had grown together, and as he struggled in his
+sleep his fellow would turn into the grinning, jeering image of
+Flaggs--Flaggs fastened to him by a bond of burning, itching
+flesh--Flaggs joined to him like a Siamese twin, flesh of his flesh,
+blood of his blood--until by some unnatural evolution _he_ became Flaggs
+and could see his own wretched shape writhing at the other end of their
+mutual arm. Then shaking, chilled, and covered with perspiration he
+would awake and look for Flaggs beside him, and hold his hand to the
+blue night-light only to find the seam about his wrist and the
+dead-white hand throbbing until he thought he should go mad.
+
+By day he was haunted by the vision of Flaggs watching his house and
+following him along the streets. He could not get the fellow out of his
+mind. This terror of the drunken clerk became a positive obsession. As
+he walked the streets or drove in his brougham through the park he was
+constantly planning out what he should say when they should finally come
+together--when Flaggs should call for him, summon him as his own. Could
+he defy him? Could he palliate him? The hand twitched at the thought of
+it. He fancied that Flaggs followed him everywhere in various disguises,
+running swiftly behind, dodging into doorways and up side streets when
+he turned around. And this habit of turning around and glancing
+furtively up and down grew on Sir Richard, and with it grew the itching
+in his hand, until he suspected that people shook their heads and said
+that his illness had undermined his health more than they had supposed.
+
+It was no bodily illness that thus affected Sir Richard, but spiritual
+degeneration. He went from dinner party to dinner party and from
+musicale to musicale, paying court to Lady Bella Forsythe as if no
+grotesque face were peering from behind the arras of his brain. Yet in
+reality he was preparing to meet Flaggs in the final struggle for
+supremacy. Flaggs, like death and the tax man, was coming--_when_? He
+could not tell, but inevitably. And he must be ready, armed _cap-a-pie_
+to meet him on every ground. He had at last resolved to marry Lady
+Bella. It was an essential in his campaign to defeat Flaggs. There must
+be plenty of money--money, that was what he needed, what he wanted. It
+was partly for Lady Bella that he had planned his musical entertainment,
+for, in addition to its practical desirability, if he purposed to retain
+his position in the social world, it would afford an excellent
+opportunity for presenting himself to her as a person worthy of her own
+high station and acquaintance. His own music--! Alas! the brain was
+willing, but the fingers were powerless. Where before he had produced
+the most delicate of harmonies there now resulted nothing but harsh
+discords. The hand would not stretch an octave!
+
+The Milbank Street house blazed into the early evening with a thousand
+lights. All day long wagons of roses and asters had stood before the
+doors, and aproned men had staggered into the hall with pots of flowers
+and stands of palms. Confectioners' wagons, loads of camp chairs, and
+now a large awning were the indubitable evidences of what was afoot.
+Night came on. The white cloth on the carpet across the sidewalk was
+trampled to a dirty gray. The orchestra began to arrive, and, shedding
+their coats in the servants' entrance, toiled up the back stairs and
+tentatively made their way through the flower-banked halls to the
+conservatory. Sir Richard sitting in his den and awaiting the arrival of
+his first guests could hear the musicians tuning their basses and
+testing the wood winds. But there was no music in Sir Richard's soul.
+All day long he had been haunted by the ghost of Flaggs scuttling behind
+him, and his hand had seemed swollen and discolored. Well, if he could
+but get through the night, could succeed in his suit with Lady Bella, he
+would go away and rest. Perhaps he would leave London forever--Lady
+Bella was very fond of Rome. The sounds of the instruments grew more
+confused and louder, the violins mingling with the others. Occasionally
+the trombones would boom out and the kettles rumble ominously. Outside
+splashes of rain began to fall against the windows, and the wind,
+catching in the hollow column of the awning, swept into the halls and
+through the open door into the den. Mortmain looked at his watch and
+found it was ten o'clock. People would be arriving soon. His hand
+twitched and he lighted a cigarette. There was a great deal of traffic
+in the front hall--too much. He closed the door and poured out a
+thimbleful of brandy. Well, a day or two and he would be rid of Flaggs
+forever! Then he heard a low knock. He tried to cheat himself into the
+belief that it was Joyce.
+
+"Come in," he cried, but his voice was husky.
+
+Flaggs stood before him.
+
+"I have been expecting you," said Mortmain. It did not seem strange that
+he should make this declaration.
+
+"Yes?" queried Flaggs.
+
+"What do you want?" demanded the baronet.
+
+"Ten thousand pounds," answered the clerk. "To-morrow."
+
+Mortmain broke into a harsh laugh.
+
+"Ha! my good fellow! What do you think I am--a Crœsus? Come, come, I'll
+give you fifty--and I get the notes, eh?"
+
+"Ten thousand pounds," repeated Flaggs stubbornly, "by to-morrow noon,
+or I hand you over to the police."
+
+The blood jumped into Sir Richard's face and his dexter hand throbbed
+and tingled.
+
+"You miserable rascal!" he cried. "You wretched blackmailer! How dare
+you come into my house? Do you know that I could _kill_ you? And no one
+would ever be the wiser! Take a few pounds and be off with you or I'll
+summon the police myself."
+
+"Not so fast, not so fast, Sir Richard," muttered Flaggs. "I don't think
+you'll call the police."
+
+The look on the white scowling face before him told Sir Richard that the
+fellow meant to do his business. A haunting fear seized hold upon him
+like that which he had experienced in the depot wagon--a feeling that
+behind this grotesque, dwarfed figure of a man lurked the hand of Fate.
+
+"That's right. Be reasonable," said Flaggs soothingly. "Some folks would
+think ten thousand pounds was cheap to escape the gallows," he added in
+lower tones.
+
+"Gallows!" cried Sir Richard, his anger rising. He knew the fellow's
+game now. He was being lied to. Flaggs was trying to frighten, to bully
+him. "The gallows, my friend, ceased to be the punishment for felony in
+1826--even for blackmail!"
+
+"But not for murder," retorted Flaggs with a ghastly smile. "Not for
+murder!"
+
+"Enough of this!" exclaimed Sir Richard, but his knees were trembling.
+"Here are a hundred pounds. Go!" He put his hand to his breast pocket.
+
+Flaggs laughed.
+
+"Look!" he cried, pulling from the lining of his hat a printed slip
+which he unfolded and handed to the baronet.
+
+Mortmain took it in dread and held it to the light.
+
+      "_Murder in the first degree defined._
+
+      "_The taking of the life of a human being by another
+      with malice prepense or in the commission of a
+      felony._"
+
+The last six words were underlined in red ink.
+
+"Well?" he asked, but the word stuck in his throat.
+
+"Well?" returned the other. "It's plain enough, isn't it? What more do
+you want?"
+
+"It is not plain, you blackguard."
+
+"Maiming is a felony. You know that. Amputation is maiming. Flynt told
+you so. The fellow that sold you that hand of yours died of it, didn't
+he?"
+
+Mortmain uttered an exclamation of horror. He looked down at the fearful
+thing and it seemed to him to be the color of death. "They can never
+prove it!" he cried faintly. "They can't prove it! They cannot!"
+
+"Yes, they can! I saw it done," remarked Flaggs. "I saw him buried in
+the garden. He is there yet--minus his hand."
+
+"You villain!" gasped Mortmain. The room reeled, and Flaggs danced
+before him, gibbering with glee. The light darkened and brightened again
+and seemed to swing in circles.
+
+"Pull yourself together, Sir Richard!" remarked Flaggs mockingly. "Pull
+yourself together! Isn't it worth ten thousand pounds or one hundred
+thousand pounds? But I'm reasonable. Only ten thousand pounds! Come,
+come! Let me have it!"
+
+"_No!_" shouted Mortmain. "Not if I die for it."
+
+"Then you _will_ die for it," said Flaggs.
+
+The sound of the fiddles came through the closed door of the study. The
+cries of the lackeys and the roll of carriages arriving and departing
+could be heard in the front.
+
+"You will die for it, as there is a God in heaven, if I choose!"
+
+Mortmain stood silent. He had a presentiment of what Flaggs was going to
+say.
+
+"A word from me," continued the clerk, "and you hang for the _murder of
+Lord Russell_. Everyone knows you hated him. Flynt, Joyce, and I heard
+you say you would kill him. You owed him seventy-five thousand pounds
+and it was two days overdue. He would have ruined you next day. The
+officer saw you outside his window within five minutes of the murder,
+and so did I. There was nothing taken but the notes--nothing. They were
+found in your possession the next morning. How did they get there? The
+case is complete. The notes convict you. I've got them. They are yours
+for ten thousand pounds--only ten thousand pounds."
+
+"You villain," shouted Mortmain, springing toward him.
+
+The door from the hall opened and Joyce entered letting in the warm
+breath of roses and the loud strains of a waltz.
+
+"Lady Bella has arrived, Sir Richard," he announced.
+
+"Tell her I am coming," said Mortmain, starting for the door.
+
+"Wait!" shrieked Flaggs, his face horribly distorted. "Wait!" Joyce had
+retired.
+
+Mortmain paused with clinched fists.
+
+"Isn't it worth ten thousand pounds to save a guilty man--a man who
+can't escape?"
+
+"Why, you fool!" cried Mortmain, suddenly regaining his self-control.
+"Such evidence is valueless. My word is worth _yours_ ten times over,
+and I deny that you found the notes in my house. I say that _you_ are
+the murderer. And I believe you are!"
+
+"Not so fast! Not so fast!" leered Flaggs. "You know I was 'in quod' at
+the time. Don't forget that! And there's one more bit of evidence that
+nails you. You can't escape. You're done. I've got you--_the murderer's
+thumb marks on the glass_!"
+
+"The devil take you!" yelled Mortmain, the blood suffusing his eyes.
+
+"The devil has _you_ already!" retorted Flaggs. "He's part of you. You
+_are_ the devil. Whose hand is that? Tell me that! _Whose hand is
+that?_"
+
+Mortmain turned an agonized face toward his tormentor. His spirit was
+gone. He was ready to fall upon his knees, but he could not move. He
+raised his left hand pitifully as if to shield himself from the coming
+blow, and yet his parched lips uttered the soundless word:
+
+"Whose?"
+
+Flaggs gave a dry laugh.
+
+"_It belonged to Saunders Leach!_"
+
+With a sickening of the heart the baronet realized for the first time
+the terrible alternative which confronted him.
+
+His selfish willingness to violate the law and mutilate a fellow human
+being merely to gratify his own vanity had plunged him into an abyss
+from which there seemed no escape. "Murder in the first degree defined:
+the taking of the life of a human being by another with malice prepense
+_or in the commission of a felony_." By a cruel yet extraordinary chance
+he, the needless yet deliberate lawbreaker, had purchased the very hand
+which had slain his enemy--from the murderer himself, who was only too
+anxious to get rid of it. By an equally hideous but astonishing
+coincidence this devil's contract had proved in fact the death warrant
+of the murderer, and Mortmain had been his involuntary executioner.
+Saunders Leach had paid the penalty of his crime, but Mortmain carried
+dangling at the end of his dexter forearm the living evidence that he,
+and not Leach, was the assassin. The coil of the rope of fate, at one
+end of which hung the limp body of the common criminal, had fallen upon
+the neck of his aristocrat brother, and it needed but a word from Flaggs
+to send him spinning from the gallows. Should he seek to show that the
+finger prints upon the window of Lord Russell's library were not his
+own, and by this means to creep from beneath the meshes of the net of
+circumstantial evidence in which he was entangled, he would, in the same
+breath, be forced to confess that he was guilty of the murder of
+Saunders Leach--murder, as the result of the latter's mutilation--murder
+under the literal interpretation of the statute. Was ever rat so nicely
+trapped? The horror of the thing turned Mortmain into a madman. He
+sprang at the clerk in a delirium of rage, his right hand clutched
+Flaggs tightly by the throat, and its blunt fingers twisted into the
+flesh deeper and deeper. It was done so quickly that the clerk was
+unable to escape. His eyes started forward, his tongue protruded, and
+his mouth frothed as he made ineffectual attempts to break the baronet's
+hold.
+
+"You've got me, eh?" muttered Mortmain, gritting his teeth. "I think
+not, Mr. Flaggs!"
+
+The door opened and Joyce entered in much agitation. The orchestra had
+burst into a triumphant march and the sounds of many footsteps echoed in
+the hall outside.
+
+"Everybody is arrivin', Sir Richard!" exclaimed the butler, "an' Lady
+Bella has gone into the music room. His Grace of Belvoir was just askin'
+for you. Here are two gentlemen who wish to see you important, sir." He
+held the door open and two men in Inverness coats entered and stood
+irresolutely near the door.
+
+Mortmain released his grasp upon the neck of Flaggs, who lurched toward
+the corner and fell motionless behind a table.
+
+"Sir Richard Mortmain?" inquired the taller of the two, a man of massive
+build and with iron-gray mustache and hair.
+
+"The same," replied Mortmain, his fingers still twitching from the
+ferocity of his clutch upon the clerk.
+
+The two strangers bowed.
+
+"We have a card to you from Lieutenant Foraker--a friend of yours, I
+believe. Permit me," and the tall man stepped forward and extended a
+card to the baronet.
+
+Mortmain mechanically took it between the thumb and forefinger of his
+right hand. It felt like celluloid and a trifle slippery. But the
+stranger did not release his own hold upon it.
+
+"Pardon me, I have given you the wrong card," he exclaimed
+apologetically, and withdrawing the bit of board from Mortmain's fingers
+he opened a wallet and fumbled with the contents. As he did so he handed
+the first card to his companion, who stepped into the light of the lamp,
+and examined it carefully through a small microscope which he drew from
+his pocket.
+
+[Illustration: "His blunt fingers twisted into the flesh deeper and
+deeper."]
+
+"They are _the same_," remarked the stranger of the microscope to the
+iron-gray man.
+
+"What is all this?" cried Mortmain in an unnatural voice. His head swam.
+On the mantel the verdigris-covered dragon's face grinned mockingly at
+him--it was the face of Flaggs.
+
+"Sir Richard," replied the iron-gray man gravely, "I am Inspector
+Murtha, of Scotland Yard."
+
+Mortmain started back and his right hand twitched again. Through the
+silence came the measures of "The Flower Song."
+
+"I regret to say," continued the other, "that it is my most unpleasant
+duty to arrest you for the murder of Lord Gordon Russell."
+
+At the same instant the veil of Sir Richard's mental temple was rent in
+twain; out of a blackness so intense that it seemed substantive he saw
+the two inspectors from Scotland Yard fleeing away and diminishing in
+size until they seemed but puppets gesturing at the edge of an infinity
+of white desert; then with equal velocity they were carried forward
+again, growing bigger and bigger until they loomed like giants in his
+immediate foreground swinging huge scimitars and waving their arms
+frantically; the strains of the violins changed to voices shouting so
+sharply that they pained his ears, and waves of light and cosmic
+darkness over which scintillated a dazzling aurora followed one another
+in startling succession, until suddenly his soul, shot out of a tunnel,
+as it were, landed abruptly in a warm meadow covered with daisies, which
+dissolved before his eyes into the familiar chamber on Milbank Street. A
+gray mist floated hissing up through the ceiling, the chairs rocked with
+a strange rotary swing, and the two inspectors smiled cheerfully at him
+through a broad and painful band of London sunshine. He swallowed
+rapidly, and a horrible faintness seized him which gave place to a queer
+sort of anger.
+
+"There's--some--mistake!" he stuttered. The chairs anchored themselves
+and the ceiling assumed its normal tint.
+
+"No mistake at all," replied Sir Penniston Crisp.
+
+The problem was too much for the baronet and he gave it up. The
+murderer's hand no longer twitched, but it loomed white and loathsome
+from the bed before him, as if dead already, somehow--part of
+a--yes--what were those things? Bandages?
+
+Crisp and Jermyn saw a look of agonized bewilderment pass over the
+baronet's face.
+
+"Did they bring me here from the Old Bailey?" he asked. "Am I out on
+bail?"
+
+Crisp laughed.
+
+"That's one way of putting it," he remarked. "Yes, you're out on bail,
+and in another second or two you will be entirely free."
+
+"I'm glad you're going to take that thing off again," said Mortmain.
+"How could you have done it?"
+
+"It's all right," returned Crisp soothingly.
+
+Then Mortmain suddenly understood. But he waited shrewdly.
+
+"What day is this?" he asked in an innocent manner.
+
+"December 5th," replied Jermyn.
+
+"When did I have that fall; you know--the one that made it necessary for
+you to amputate?"
+
+"Your accident happened yesterday evening, but there is no necessity for
+amputation," returned Crisp. "Now, my dear fellow, just lie back, will
+you?--and don't ask questions. That somni-chloride is still lingering
+in your head. I shall have to be going in a minute."
+
+Mortmain obeyed the surgeon's instructions, but he was hard at work
+thinking the thing out logically. It was clear that there had been no
+amputation, no arrest, no inspectors from Scotland Yard. That scene with
+Flaggs, horribly distinct as it still was, had had no actuality. But
+where did fact end and illusion begin? Had the notes been taken? Had
+there been a murder? Was he a bankrupt? The different propositions
+entangled themselves helplessly with one another. At the end of a minute
+he asked deliberately:
+
+"Miss Fickles, did a man take some papers from my table this morning?"
+
+"Yes, Sir Richard," replied the nurse.
+
+Mortmain's heart sank.
+
+"Er--was--did anything happen to Lord Russell?" he asked the surgeon
+faintly.
+
+"Yes. But don't talk or think of it, Mortmain. I order you! Do you
+understand?"
+
+A ripple of perspiration broke out on his forehead and it seemed as if a
+film had rolled off his vision. Of course, he had taken the chloride
+just after Miss Fickles had gone downstairs for him, and then Crisp and
+Jermyn had come. He had felt so miserable! And now he felt so much
+better! He opened his eyes, the same Sir Richard that had inhaled the
+anæsthetic so obediently.
+
+"I am quite myself now, Sir Penniston," he asserted quietly. "I want to
+ask one more question. Flynt was not here, was he?"
+
+"No, of course not."
+
+"And we have not left the room? No railroad trip, eh?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Thank you," said the baronet. "May I have a cup of coffee?"
+
+What reply this preposterous demand would have invited will never be
+known, for at that moment a knock came upon the door and Joyce asked if
+Sir Richard could see Mr. Flynt.
+
+"I _must_ see him!" said Mortmain.
+
+"Oh, very well!" laughed Crisp. "You're getting better rapidly."
+
+Flynt entered with a breezy manner which he allowed himself to assume
+only when something really desirable had definitely occurred.
+
+"Good morning, Sir Penniston! Good morning, Sir Richard!" he remarked
+without sitting down. "I really had to come in and tell you the good
+news. The executors have just read Lord Russell's will----"
+
+"Mr. Flynt! Mr. Flynt!" interrupted Sir Penniston.
+
+"Oh, it's all right!" continued Flynt with a laugh. "Better than a
+tonic. You see, Fowler, the only next of kin, was just sailing for New
+Guinea, and it had to be done at once. I really did Lord Russell an
+injustice. May I speak before these gentlemen?"
+
+"Certainly," whispered Mortmain, his eyes fastened feverishly upon the
+lawyer.
+
+"Well, to put it briefly, he has made you a great gift! Here, read it!"
+and he handed the baronet a typewritten sheet. Mortmain read it eagerly,
+although his eyes pained him somewhat:
+
+      "To my friend, Sir Richard Mortmain, I devise and
+      bequeath the sum of five thousand pounds, and take it
+      upon myself to express the earnest hope that he will
+      before long publish his views upon art in such a form
+      that the public at large may have the opportunity to
+      profit by that which hitherto has been the privilege
+      only of the few. I desire, moreover, to express my
+      high personal regard for him and my admiration for his
+      whole-souled devotion to the arts, and I hereby
+      instruct my executors to cancel and destroy all
+      evidences of indebtedness owing to me by said Mortmain
+      and to treat said indebtedness as null, void and of no
+      effect, provided, nevertheless, that within six months
+      of my demise said Mortmain shall assign to the
+      directors of the Corporation of the British Museum all
+      his collections of ceramics, bronzes, china,
+      chronometers, scarabs, including the Howard
+      Collection, his cabinets of gems and cameos, including
+      the famous head of Alexander on an onyx of two strata
+      and the _altissimo relievo_ on cornelian--Jupiter
+      Ægiochus--the four paintings by Watteau in his music
+      room, and the paintings by Corot and Whistler from his
+      library. As the said moneys borrowed from me from time
+      to time by said Mortmain were, to my knowledge,
+      principally made use of by him for the purpose of
+      purchasing and enlarging said collections, which have
+      increased in value to no inconsiderable extent by
+      virtue of his care and discrimination since he
+      acquired them, I am prepared to regard said loans to
+      him in effect as gifts impressed with a trust in favor
+      of our National Museum, provided, however, that said
+      Mortmain is willing to accept the same and execute the
+      terms thereof as heretofore set forth within six
+      months; but nothing herein shall be taken to affect
+      the right of said Mortmain to take up and pay off said
+      indebtedness within said time, if he shall see fit to
+      do so, in which case the provisions of this codicil
+      shall be without any force or effect whatsoever, save
+      that I instruct my executors to receive said moneys
+      and hold the same in trust, however, for such
+      scientific and artistic uses as said Mortmain shall
+      direct, preference being given to the needs of the
+      British Museum along the lines of antique works of art
+      and Egyptology."
+
+As Sir Richard laid down the paper his eyes filled and he turned away
+his head.
+
+"A good old man!" said Flynt reverently.
+
+"Indeed he was!" assented Crisp.
+
+"I must know one thing," whispered Mortmain after a few moments. "Did
+you send your clerk here this morning to get some papers?"
+
+"Yes, to be sure. I had almost forgotten--I sent Flaggs after an
+envelope which I fancied I dropped last evening," answered the lawyer.
+
+"Which _you_ had dropped?" asked Mortmain stupidly.
+
+"Why, certainly. I had the papers connected with Lord Russell's loans
+sent here. Flaggs brought 'em--and I dropped an envelope. I _did_ drop
+it, because Flaggs found it here this morning."
+
+"What was in it?" asked Sir Richard eagerly.
+
+Flynt elevated his brows.
+
+"Why, if you don't mind my speaking of it, there were some old notes of
+yours which had been renewed at various times. I make a practice of
+keeping the originals as a matter of precaution."
+
+"Oh!" sighed Mortmain. "_Old_ notes?"
+
+"_Old_ notes," answered Flynt. "Notes taken up and renewed by others."
+
+"Ah!" sighed Mortmain again. "You _did_ drop them, but not in the
+study. I found them on the street. They gave me quite a turn."
+
+"Well, we will tear them up now," laughed Flynt.
+
+"Pardon me, sir," said Joyce, opening the door and handing a long box to
+Miss Fickles; "some roses with Lady Bella Forsythe's compliments, and
+'opin' as 'ow you'll soon be all right again, sir."
+
+
+
+
+THE RESCUE OF THEOPHILUS NEWBEGIN
+
+
+I
+
+
+The _Dirigo_ was a one-hundred-and-twenty-two foot gunboat, spick and
+span from the Cavite yard--lithe as a panther, swift as a petrel, gray
+as the mists off Hi-tai-sha--and she was his very own. The biggest,
+reddest day in all his twenty-three years of life was when the Admiral's
+order had come to leave the _Ohio_, where he had acted as a sort of
+apotheosized messenger boy and general escort to civilians' fat wives,
+and to proceed at once to Shanghai to assume command of her, provision
+and await further orders. It had cost him nine dollars and seventy-five
+cents to cable the joyful news adequately to his mother in Baltimore,
+and although the family resources were small--his father had died a
+lieutenant commander the year before--she had cabled back a "good luck
+and God bless you" to him. He only got as an ensign a paltry one hundred
+and twenty-eight dollars per month, and out of it came his mess bills
+and other expenses, but for all that he had enough to go down Nanking
+road and buy his mother a handsome mandarin cloak--Harry Dupont was
+going back on leave--and then to invite all the fellows he knew in
+Shanghai harbor to a jamboree at the club. It was going on at the time
+this story opens, boisterously and uproariously as befits the blow-out
+of a twenty-three-year old ensign who has just received his first
+command. The older civilians, who were drinking their comfortable
+"B & S" on the veranda, merely shrugged their shoulders as an impromptu
+refrain rose louder and louder to the pounding of bottles and the jingle
+of silverware.
+
+    Here's to the Kid and the _Dirigo_,
+    He's off for a cruise on the Hwang-ho!
+
+The officers of the squadron, not wishing to spoil the fun, slipped off
+to the billiard room or the bridge tables, or strolled back to the bar.
+Most of them had letters to write for the American mail, which would
+leave the following morning, and more than one sighed as he glanced
+toward the upper veranda from below the club house. They knew how many
+and how long the years would be before any of those boys would be called
+"captain"--well, let them enjoy themselves! What was the use of
+croaking? There were compensations--of a sort. Even if one's people
+_were_ all on the other side of the globe or migrating from boarding
+house to boarding house in a vain endeavor to keep up with the changes
+in the billets of their husbands and fathers, one was still an officer
+of Uncle Sam's navy.
+
+So reflected Follansbee, executive officer of the flagship _Ohio_, which
+had slipped into Woosung, ten miles below Shanghai, just as the sunset
+gun on the forts was echoing over the closely packed junks along the
+water front, and while the boy was engrossed to the extent of total
+oblivion with the club steward over the decoration of his dinner table
+and the choice between various highly recommended brands of Scotch and
+Irish. Follansbee was a good sort, who had already waited thirty-five
+years to get his battleship and was waiting still, and he had seen Jack
+Russell, the boy's father, die the year before at Teng-chan of a
+combination of liver and disappointment, all too common among naval
+officers in the East. Follansbee's own liver was none of the best, but
+he had cut down on the drink, and, anyhow, his wife was coming out on
+the _Empress of India_ next month. He hoped to God the _Ohio_ wouldn't
+be ordered to Sulu or some place impossible for her to follow him. That
+boy of Russell's--he liked that boy, he was all to the good; knew his
+place and kept his mouth shut. Follansbee wasn't going to butt in and
+spoil his fun. It would do him good to get a little drunk. He remembered
+when he got _his_ first gunboat--thirty years ago. Whew! Follansbee
+stared up at the veranda, then sighed again and started down the _bund_.
+
+Shanghai harbor was alive with light. The murmur of the city rose and
+fell on the soft, fragrant air, shockingly penetrated every now and then
+by the discordant shrieks of swiftly hurrying launches. The _bund_ was
+crowded with coolies, some toiling with heavy loads, others pulling
+their 'rikishas. Here and there flashed the colored lanterns of
+pedestrians. Beyond the junks lay many cruisers sweeping the starlit
+night with their quickly moving searchlights. Then one of these took him
+bang between the eyes and he stumbled and fell against some one coming
+up the walk.
+
+"Where the deuce--!" shouted a clear young voice angrily. Then the note
+changed. "I beg pardon, sir--these confounded lights--I didn't see you
+at all."
+
+Follansbee returned the midshipman's salute.
+
+"Don't mention it!" he growled. "But what are you doing ashore? I
+thought you had the deck."
+
+"I did, but I'm trying to find Russell. The Admiral wants him. I took
+the ship's launch to the _Dirigo_ and they said there he was ashore and
+hadn't left any word, only that he'd be back late. Have you seen him?"
+
+"Can't you _hear_ him?" inquired Follansbee laconically.
+
+A figure in white duck loomed suddenly into view on the veranda rail
+waving a bottle and shouting at the top of his lungs:
+
+    "I've got command of the _Dirigo_
+    An' I'm off for a cruise on the Hwang-ho!"
+
+followed by a tremendous chorus accompanied by cracking glass and
+unearthly yells.
+
+"Do I!" exclaimed the midshipman under his breath. "Is that him?"
+
+At that moment a searchlight illumined the figure in question and the
+midshipman answering his own question, "Yes, that's him," scrambled on
+up the steps.
+
+Follansbee wondered how long it would take to deliver the Admiral's
+order and felt his way gingerly through the crowded street.
+
+When the midshipman burst panting upon them they were standing on their
+chairs with their arms around one another's necks shouting the swinging
+chorus of
+
+    "The good old summer ti-i-me!
+    Oh, the good old summer ti-i-me!
+    For she's my tootsie-wootsie in
+    The good old summer ti-i-me!"
+
+"Come on up! There's plenty of room on my chair!" cried the boy
+excitedly, at sight of the midshipman, "we've only just begun." His
+face was very, very red and his eyes were very, very bright.
+
+    "Oh, the good old summer time!
+    Oh, the good old----"
+
+"Here, what's the matter with you? Let me alone! What?"
+
+He dropped his arms and climbed soberly enough down to the veranda floor
+while his comrades continued their refrain.
+
+"Orders! From the Admiral! Is he here? I didn't know that the _Ohio_ had
+come in. With you in a jiffy."
+
+"Don't wait," urged the midshipman, "it's important!"
+
+The boy turned white.
+
+"It isn't--bad news?" he asked apprehensively.
+
+"No, no," answered the other quickly, remembering the news the boy had
+had the year before. "Just orders."
+
+"Well, I won't spoil their fun," said the boy, echoing the sentiments
+earlier expressed by Follansbee. "Back in a minute, fellows: I've got to
+telephone! On with the dance, let joy be unrefined!"
+
+While they slipped through the door the chorus changed again, and as the
+boy seized his cap, sprang down the steps and started for the launch
+landing, high above and behind him, he could still hear them singing:
+
+    "Here's to the Kid and the _Dirigo_,
+    He's off for a cruise on the Hwang-ho!"
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+"You sent for me, sir?"
+
+Jack Russell stood in the doorway of the Admiral's cabin on the _Ohio_,
+cap in hand. The Admiral had been poring over some papers on his desk
+and for a moment did not dissect the voice from the whirring of the
+electric fan over his head, but as the boy took a step or two forward he
+turned and nodded.
+
+"Oh, it's you, Russell. I didn't mean to disturb you on shore, but I've
+something for you to do and the sooner you start the better."
+
+The boy awaited his words breathlessly--his first orders.
+
+"It's rather a mean job, but I've nobody else available and, if you make
+good--of course, you _will_ make good--in fact, it's rather a chance to
+distinguish yourself."
+
+"Thank you, sir."
+
+The Admiral paused as if surely to observe the effect of his words.
+
+"I want you to rescue a couple of missionaries."
+
+The boy's countenance remained immobile.
+
+"I received word this evening," continued the Admiral, picking up a
+half-smoked cigar, "that the rebellion has spread into Hu-peh and as far
+south as Kui-chan. They have murdered three American missionaries. Most
+of the others have escaped and have been reported safe, but nothing can
+be learned of two missionaries at Chang-Yuan--very estimable people,
+highly thought of in their denomination."
+
+"Yes, sir," said the boy, his eyes beaming on the Admiral.
+
+"You are to start at once--at once, understand, and go up the river past
+Hankow and Yochow. At Tung-an you reach the treaty limits, but you
+haven't time to explain, and probably explanations wouldn't do any good.
+There are two old forts there, and you'll just have to run by
+them--that's all. It is six hundred miles to Hankow. With luck you can
+be there easily inside of four days, but Chang-Yuan isn't on the
+Yang-tse-Kiang--it's on the Yuang-Kiang somewhere on Lake Tung-ting.
+You've got to find it first, and the charts are of no use. The trouble
+is that the lake dries up in winter and in summer overflows all the
+country round. If you can't get a local guide who knows the channel you
+will have to trust to luck. The fact that it's in the forbidden
+territory adds one more difficulty, but if I know Jack Russell's
+son----"
+
+"Oh, thank you, sir!" cried the boy. "What a chance!" he added half to
+himself.
+
+"Yes, it is a chance," answered the Admiral, "and I'm glad you've got
+it, but if you get aground among the rioting natives!--well, it's got to
+be done."
+
+"I have no interpreter, sir," said the boy.
+
+"Smith has secured one," replied the Admiral, "and through him we have
+found a Shan-si-man who says he knows the river above Hankow and is
+willing to act as guide. They are on the lower deck waiting. You will,
+of course, have the government pilot as far as Hankow. Now, good luck to
+you. I expect to be here for two weeks and you will report to me at
+once on your return your success or failure." He held out his hand.
+"Good luck to you again."
+
+The boy shook hands with the Admiral but still remained standing beside
+him.
+
+"Well?" said the Admiral. "Is there anything else?"
+
+"Yes," replied the boy apologetically, "you have not given me
+the--gentleman's name."
+
+"Bless my soul! So I haven't!" exclaimed the Admiral, fumbling among his
+papers, then raising one to the light: "The Rev. Theophilus Newbegin,"
+he read slowly, "and wife."
+
+The boy saluted his Admiral and retired with a respectful "Good night,
+sir." Once in the privacy of the wardroom companionway, however, he
+began to giggle, which giggle speedily expanded into a loud guffaw on
+his reaching the main deck. It sounded vaguely like "Newbegin." He
+leaned against the forward awning pole, shaking with laughter.
+
+"I say, what's the joke?" inquired the midshipman approaching him from
+the shadow of the main turret. "Let a fellow in, won't you?"
+
+But the boy still shook silently without replying.
+
+"Oh, go on! What's the joke?" repeated the other. "Did 'Whiskers' give
+you a 'Laughing Julip'?"
+
+"Newbegin!" exploded the boy. "Newbegin!"
+
+"New begin what?" persisted the midshipman irritably. "Have you gone
+dotty? I hope you didn't act that way in 'Whiskers'' cabin. I believe
+you're drunk!"
+
+The boy suddenly jerked himself together.
+
+"Look here, Smith, you shut up. I'm your rankin' officer and I won't
+have such language. I'll tell you the joke--when I know whether it is
+one or not."
+
+Smith made a face at him.
+
+"By the way, smarty," continued the boy, "have you got two Chinks for
+me? If you have, send 'em along. I'm off to the _Dirigo_ on the launch."
+
+"Yes, I got 'em at the English consul's. Say, what's up? Can't you tell
+a feller?"
+
+"Mr. Smith, send those two Chinks to the gangway!" thundered the boy.
+
+The midshipman turned and walked hastily around the turret.
+
+"Here you, Yen, come out of there!" he called.
+
+Two Chinamen arose from the deck where they had been sitting
+crosslegged, leaning against the turret, and shuffled slowly forward.
+
+"Here are your Chinks!" growled Smith, still aggrieved.
+
+The ensign paid no further attention to him but pushed the nearest
+Chinaman toward the gangway.
+
+"Get along, boys," he remarked, "your Uncle William is in a hurry." As
+the smaller of the two seemed averse to haste he gave him a slight
+forward impetus with his pipe-clayed boot. The two descended more
+rapidly and he followed. A sudden regret took possession of him as he
+thought of the possibility of his never seeing Smith again--of his dying
+of thirst, aground in a dried-up lake--or of being tortured to death in
+a cage in a Chinese prison.
+
+"Good-by, Smithy," he called over his shoulder. But there was no answer.
+
+The launch was bobbing at the foot of the steps, its screw churning the
+water into a boiling froth that reflected a million strange gleams
+against the warship's water line. The Chinamen hesitated.
+
+"Get along, boys," he repeated, stepping into the stern sheets. "We've
+got a long way to go and we might as well begin--Newbegin."
+
+The Chinamen huddled under the launch's canopy, the boy gave the word to
+go ahead, the bell rang sharply and the launch started on its long trip
+up to Shanghai.
+
+Slowly the _Ohio_ receded from him, somber, implacable, sphinxlike. On
+her bridge a man was wigwagging to the _Oregon_ with an electric signal.
+The searchlights from the war vessels arose and wavered like huge
+antennæ feeling for something through the night, now and again paving a
+golden path from the launch to the ships. The illusion was that the
+vessels were moving away from the launch, not the launch from them. Out
+of the zone of the searchlights the water was black and lonesome. Just
+as soon as the ships got far enough away to appear stationary the launch
+seemed racing through the water at a hundred miles an hour. Other
+launches shrieked past bearing to their ships officers who had just come
+down by train to Woosung. Up the Whompoa River the ten-mile-distant
+lights of Shanghai cast a dim, nebulous glow against the midnight sky.
+Two hours later the little _Dirigo_ seemed to loom out of the darkness
+and come rapidly toward them as the launch ran up to her gangway.
+
+"Is that you, McGaw?" called the boy sharply. "Here are two Chinks, an
+interpreter and another one. Fix 'em up somewhere. We start up the
+Yang-tse as soon as you can get up steam. I want to make Nanking by day
+after to-morrow sunrise. Send ashore and get the pilot. Don't waste any
+time, either."
+
+"All right, sir," answered the midshipman, "we can start in half an
+hour, sir."
+
+The boy ran up the ladder, followed slowly by the Chinamen. At the cabin
+companionway he paused and looked at his watch. It was half after one
+o'clock.
+
+"Here you, boys," he shouted after the Chinamen, "come down into my
+cabin, I want to speak to you."
+
+He led the way down into his tiny wardroom and threw himself into a
+wicker chair placed at the focus of two electric fans. The thermometer
+registered ninety degrees Fahrenheit, but it was almost as hot on deck
+as below, and below various thirst alleviators were at hand. He poured
+out a whisky and soda and beckoned to the Chinamen to draw nearer. The
+first was short, fat, and jovial, with chronic humor creases about his
+mouth, and his hair done in a long orthodox cue which hung almost to the
+heels of his felt slippers. The other, the Shan-si man, was tall and
+square-shouldered, and he carried his chin high and his arms folded in
+front of him. His cue was curled flat on his head, and on his face was
+the expression of him who walks with the immortal gods.
+
+"What's your name?" asked the boy, waving the Manila cheroot he was
+lighting at the fat Chinaman. The little man grinned instantly, his face
+breaking into stereotyped wrinkles like an alligator-skin wallet.
+
+"Me--Yen. Charley Yen. Me belong good fella," he added with confidence.
+"Mucha laugh."
+
+"Who's the other chap?" inquired the boy. "He no mucha laugh, eh?"
+
+Yen shrugged his shoulders and, looking straight in front of him, held
+voluble discourse with his comrade.
+
+"He no say," he finally replied. "He velly ploud. He say his ancestors
+belong number one men before Uncle Sam maka live. He say it maka no
+diffence. You maka pay, he maka show. Name no matter."
+
+"Well, I'm sort of proud myself," remarked the boy, hiding a smile by
+sucking on his cheroot. "Tell this learned one that I know just how he
+feels. Tell him I'm going to call him 'Mr. Dooley' after the most
+learned man in America."
+
+Yen addressed a few remarks to the Shan-si man who murmured something in
+reply.
+
+"He tanka you."
+
+"I suppose you're a Christian?" asked the boy, suddenly recollecting the
+object of his expedition.
+
+"I belong Clistian, allasame you," answered Yen, assuming a quasi-devout
+expression. "Me believe foreign man joss allight."
+
+The boy regarded him thoughtfully.
+
+"Me b'lieve Chinee joss pigeon, too," added Yen cheerfully. "Me mucha
+b'lieve. B'lieve everyt'ing. Me good fun."
+
+"Yes," said the boy, "how about 'Dooley'?--is he a Christian?"
+
+Yen turned, but at his first liquid syllable the man from Shan-si drew
+himself up until it seemed that his shoulders would touch the cabin
+roof, and burst forth into a torrent of speech. Yen translated rapidly,
+scurrying along behind his sentences like a carriage dog beneath an
+axletree.
+
+No, he was no Christian. The sword of Hung-hsui-chuen had slain his
+ancestors. Twenty millions of people had perished by the sword of the
+Taipings. The murderous cry of "Sha Yao"[1] had laid the land desolate.
+He was faithful to the gods of his ancestors.
+
+[Footnote 1: "Slay the Idolaters."]
+
+"Tell 'Dooley' I lika him. Say I think he's a good sport," said the boy,
+nodding at the Shan-si man.
+
+"He say mucha tanks," translated Yen.
+
+"Ask him if he knows Lake Tung-ting."
+
+Mr. Dooley conveyed to the boy through Yen that he had been once to
+Chang-Yuan. The lake was wide in summer and he had been there at that
+time. He took pleasure in the service of the American Captain. But the
+Captain must be patient. He was a musk buyer, buying musk in western
+Szechuan on the Thibetan border. Two years ago he had saved five hundred
+taels and returned home to bury his family--nine persons counting his
+wife--all of whom had perished in the famine. The famine was very
+devastating. Then he married again one whom he had left at home. He
+allowed her ten taels a year. She could live on one pickle of wheat and
+she had the rest to spend as she liked. He preferred better the musk
+buying and returned. He gave the Captain much thanks.
+
+"That is very interesting," said the boy. "You may go."
+
+There was a tremendous rattling of chains along the sides, the steam
+winch began to click, and the two Chinamen vanished silently up the
+companionway. The boy leaned back in his wicker chair and gazed
+contemplatively about him at the shotgun and sporting rifle over the
+bookcase, the piles of paper-covered novels, the pointer dog coiled up
+on the transom, the lithographs fastened to the walls, and the
+photographs of his father and mother. He took another sip of whisky and
+water and, putting down the glass, thought of how proud his father would
+have been to see him in his first command. He had the happy
+consciousness of having done well, and he was going to make good--the
+Admiral had said so. He had had a bully time in the East so far, away
+ahead of what he had dreamed when at the Naval Academy. That winter at
+Newchwang, racing the little Manchurian ponies over the springy turf of
+the polo ground, shooting the big golden pheasants, wandering on leave
+through the country, stopping at the Chinese inns and taking chances
+among the Hanghousers. It had been great. Hong Kong had been great. It
+had been good fun to play tennis and drink tea with the
+pink-and-white-faced English girls. Well, he was off! His naval career
+had really begun. He lit another cheroot and strolled leisurely on deck
+to superintend the operation of heaving up the anchors.
+
+Slowly the _Dirigo_ floated away from the lights of Shanghai, felt her
+way cautiously down the Wompoa to Woosung and into the broad expanse of
+the Yang-tse. Anchored well out lay the _Ohio_ black against the coming
+dawn. A band of crimson clouds swept the lowlands to the east and
+between them the tide flowed in an oily purple flood.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+A heavy jar followed by a motionless silence awoke the boy at ten
+o'clock the next morning. The electric fans were still going and he had
+a thick taste in his mouth, but he had hardly time to notice these
+things before he dashed up the companionway and out upon the deck. To
+starboard the water extended to the horizon, to port a thin line of
+brown, a shade deeper in color than the water, marked the bank of the
+great river. Alongside helplessly floated a junk with a great gash in
+her starboard beam. She was loaded with crockery, and several bales of
+blue-and-white rice bowls had tumbled into the water, their contents
+bobbing about like a flock of clay pigeons. The boy saw instantly that
+owing to the fact that the junk was built in compartments she was in no
+danger of sinking, and could easily reach shore. Her captain, a
+half-naked man in a straw hat the size of a small umbrella, was
+chattering like a monkey at Charley Yen, and a Chinese woman, with a
+black-eyed baby of two years or thereabouts, sat idly in the stern
+evincing no particular interest in the accident. The man at the wheel
+explained that the junk had suddenly tacked. The boy felt in his pocket
+and, pulling out a Mexican dollar, tossed it to the junk man, who,
+having rubbed it on his sleeve and bitten it, began to chatter anew to
+Charley Yen.
+
+"What does he say?" asked the boy.
+
+"He say Captain belong number one man--he mucha tanks," answered Yen
+with a grin. What a waste! he added. The fellow had sailed on the feast
+day of Sai-Kao because on that day the Likin or native customs were
+closed. The gods had punished him. He had no complaint to make and had
+made none. As the _Dirigo_ shot ahead the junk man sprang into the water
+and began rescuing his rice bowls. They passed no other junk that day,
+and the leaden sky did not change its shade. Save for the driving of the
+screw they might have been anchored in the midst of a coffee-colored
+ocean. Not even a bird relieved the eager search of the eye for relief
+from the immeasurable brown. The heat continued intense, and was even
+more unbearable than when the sun's rays created a fictitious contrast
+of shadow. Early in the afternoon Yen called the boy's attention to a
+couple of dolphins which were following them, racing first with the
+_Dirigo_ and then with each other. Indeed, they were all three very much
+alike, and the majestic sweep and rush of the gray-white sides as they
+rose from the water inspired him with a sense of companionship. How far
+would they follow, these faithlessly faithful wanderers of the sea? At
+sunrise the next morning they picked up Nanking and the river gave more
+evidence of life, but they kept on and soon the city and its walls faded
+behind them. At noon they passed Wu-hu, at the same hour next day
+Kiukiang, and when the boy rose on the morning of the third day out, the
+black mass of crowded up-country junks on the water front of Hankow,
+swarming like mosquitoes or water flies about a stagnant pool, loomed
+into view. The river was full of sampans and fishing boats. The man from
+Shan-si, who had not spoken since the night in the cabin, raised his
+arm, and pointing to the pagoda repeated majestically to Yen the words
+of the ancient Chinese proverb:
+
+    "Above is Heaven's Hall,
+    Below are the cities of Su and Hang."
+
+During the day they passed Kia-yu and Su-ki-kan, and late in the
+afternoon swept into sight of Yo-chow. The Shan-si man announced that
+Tung-ting was not so very far away. He even volunteered that this was
+the greatest country under "Heaven's Hall" for the exportation of
+bristles, feathers, fungus, musk, nutgalls, opium, and safflower. The
+place presented a crowded, if not particularly ambitious, appearance.
+The shore was jammed, as usual, with thousands of junks, and above the
+town the muddy banks were lined with Hunan timber and bamboo rafts. From
+the bridge of the _Dirigo_ the boy caught from time to time swiftly
+shifting views of vast swampy plains, with a ragged line of scattered
+distant mountains. Then they passed beyond the bend in the river and
+suddenly entered what seemed another ocean, a northwest passage to
+Cathay. As far as the eye could reach stretched an illimitable void of
+waters, turbid, motionless. A rocky point, some ten feet higher than the
+surrounding plain, just gave a foothold for a small temple, a two-story
+Ting-tse or pavilion, and a lighthouse shaped like a square paper
+lantern. Ten minutes later it was a black spot in their boiling, brown
+wake. They were in Tung-ting, that desolate waste of mud, water, and
+sandhill islands, half swamp, half lake that rises into being by virtue
+of the expanding spring torrents, and sinks into its spongelike alluvial
+bed as mysteriously as it comes.
+
+"Whew!" whistled the boy, "I only hope 'Dooley' knows where he's at. I
+wish we'd taken on a _lao-ta_ at Hankow. This hole must be a hundred
+miles long and it's just about ten feet deep!"
+
+In fact, the quartermaster had already called the boy's attention to the
+long grasses that swung idly upon the top of the water, and to the fact
+that here and there patches of bottom could be seen.
+
+"Where is Chang-Yuan in all this mess?" he inquired of 'Dooley' who with
+Yen occupied a place beside him on the bridge.
+
+The Shan-si pointed to a conical-shaped island several miles distant
+which raised itself steeply out of the water, on which the boy could see
+through his glasses clung a Chinese village. Flocks of wild fowl
+speckled the middle distance with a single lone fisherman on the
+starboard bow.
+
+"He says," interrupted Yen, "Sim-wu have got on that island. This place
+belong very good for Chinaman--have got plenty of rice. Plenty water
+summer time. Winter time water all finish. He says he no think enough
+water for this boat. Little more far--about thirty li--have got 'nother
+island--after while catchee Chang-Yuan."
+
+"Ask him how fast his bloomin' lake is drying up," directed the boy.
+
+The Shan-si man shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"He says," announced Yen, "if fish belong thirsty they drink water
+plenty quick. Fish no thirsty plenty water. Sometime fish drink one foot
+water in four days."
+
+The sun, which up to this time had been visible only as a dim circle in
+the gray western sky, suddenly broke through with scorching intensity
+and at the same moment the _Dirigo_ slid gracefully upon a mudbank, half
+turned, and slid gracefully off again. The boy bit his lips and stared
+hopelessly at the yellow plain of water all about him. Then he shook his
+fist at the Shan-si man.
+
+"Tell him," he roared, "that if we get aground in his infernal lake,
+I'll hang him up by the thumbs and cut off his head."
+
+Yen conveyed the message.
+
+"Even so," replied the Shan-si, through the interpreter, "the will of
+the Captain is my will and my head is at the Captain's service, but even
+the gods cannot prevent the fish from drinking up the lake."
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+"Ugh! What a town!" exclaimed the boy as the _Dirigo_ dropped anchor
+Sunday morning a hundred yards off the embankment of Chang-Yuan. A
+broiling sun beat pitilessly upon the deck of the gunboat and upon the
+half mile of mud and ooze which lay along the water edge of the town.
+Even in summer Chang-Yuan was well above the water, the shore pitching
+steeply to the level of the lake. Down this incline was thrown all the
+waste and garbage of the town, and in the slime grubbed and rooted a
+horde of Chinese dogs and pigs and a score of human scavengers. Just
+above the _Dirigo_ hung a house of entertainment, from the rickety
+balcony of which a throng of curious citizens stared down inquisitively.
+To the left stood a guild house and a pagoda, and five noble flights of
+stone steps crowned with archways led from the water to the roadway, but
+these last were so covered with slime that climbing up and over the muck
+seemed preferable to risking a fall on their treacherous surfaces.
+
+"Ugh! What a hole!" repeated the boy. "Hah! Get away there you!" he
+shouted at the _sampans_ which swarmed around the _Dirigo_. "Here you,
+Yen, tell the beggars to keep off!"
+
+This Yen did, assuring the occupants of the boats that boiling oil would
+be distributed upon them if they did not retire.
+
+So this was Chang-Yuan! The boy sniffed the malodorous air and wrinkled
+his nose.
+
+    "What though the spicy breezes blow soft o'er Ceylon's Isle,
+    Where every prospect pleases and only man is vile!
+
+Gee! I wish the old boy that wrote that could have seen this place!
+Every prospect pleases! Only _man_ is vile! This town is a sort of human
+pigsty so far as I can see. And I'll bet there is a fat old _erfu_
+hiding in the middle of this rabbit warren who makes a good thing out of
+it, you bet!"
+
+The crowd on the embankment was growing momentarily larger, a silent,
+slit-eyed crowd of uncanny yellow faces. Beyond and under the distant
+line of blue hills thin columns of smoke marked the sites of the towns
+devastated by the inconsiderate Wu. A friend of Yen's had told the
+latter all about it. He had come aboard and had breakfasted, and for
+five hundred cash had been induced to admit that at the present juncture
+Chang-Yuan was a most unhealthy place for missionaries, that the
+inhabitants were quite ready to join Wu, and that when he arrived there
+would be the Chinese devil to pay. He offered for five hundred cash more
+to act as guide to the _erfu_'s house. On the whole, it seemed desirable
+to accept his proposition. Half an hour later a boat put off from the
+_Dirigo_ containing the boy, Yen, the friend, and four bluejackets. The
+crowd on the embankment almost pushed one another off the edge in their
+eagerness to watch the white devils climbing up the steps, and hardly
+allowed room for the boy and his squad to force a way through them.
+
+Chang-Yuan was a typical example of an inland Chinese town, with dirty,
+narrow streets, swarming with human vermin. A throng followed close at
+the Americans' heels as they marched to the _erfu_'s house, but quailed
+before the bodyguard who rushed out threateningly at them. It took half
+an hour before the _erfu_ could receive them and then they were ushered
+into a dim room where a flabby old man, with a sly, vacant face sat
+crosslegged before a curtain. Through Yen, the boy explained that he had
+called as an act of official courtesy, and that he had come to remove
+certain American missionaries from danger which he understood existed by
+virtue of the proximity of the rebel Wu. The _erfu_ listened without
+expression. Then he spoke into the air.
+
+He was much honored at the visit of the American naval officer. But what
+could a poor old man like himself do against the great Wu? He had no
+soldiers. The townsfolk were ready to join the rebels. It was only a
+question of time. He could do nothing. He regretted extremely his
+inability to furnish assistance to the Americans.
+
+The boy asked if it was true that the rioters were on their way and
+might reach the town that afternoon. The _erfu_ said it was so. Then,
+after warning him that the United States Government would hold him
+responsible for the lives of its citizens, the boy retired, convinced
+that the sooner he got his missionaries away the better it would be for
+them.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+The Rev. Theophilus Newbegin had just concluded divine service upon the
+veranda of the mission. Beyond the iron gateway a crowd of twenty or so
+onlookers still lingered, commenting upon the performance which they had
+witnessed, and jeering at the Chinese women who had just hurried away.
+Two of the women were carrying babies and all had had the cholera the
+season before. Because they had not died they attended service and were
+objects of hatred to their relatives. The Rev. Newbegin closed his Bible
+and wiped his broad, shining forehead with a red silk handkerchief. He
+was a large man who had once been fat and was now thin. Owing to the
+collapse of his too solid flesh his Chinese garments hung baggily upon
+his person and gave him an unduly emaciated appearance.
+
+Mrs. Newbegin was still stout. Ten years of mission life had not
+disturbed her vague placidity and she sat as contentedly upon the
+veranda in Chang-Yuan as she had sat in her garden summer-house in
+distant Bangor, Maine, whence she and her husband had come. The fire of
+missionary zeal had not diminished in either of them. The word had come
+to them one July morning from the lips of an eloquent local preacher,
+and full of inspiration they had responded to the call and departed "for
+the glory of the Lord."
+
+And China had swallowed them up. Twice a year, sometimes oftener, a
+boat brought bundles of newspapers and magazines, and a barrel or two
+containing all sorts of valueless odds and ends, antiquated books,
+games, and ill-assorted clothing. These barrels were the great annoyance
+of their lives. Often as he dug into their variegated contents the meek
+soul of the Rev. Theophilus rebelled at being made the repository of
+such junk.
+
+"One would think, Henrietta," sadly sighed Newbegin, "that the good
+people at home imagined that we spent our time playing parchesi and the
+Mansion of Happiness, and reading Sandford and Merton."
+
+Once came a suit of clothes entirely bereft of buttons, and most of the
+undergarments were adapted to persons about half the size of the
+missionary and his wife, but the Rev. Newbegin had a little private
+fortune of his own and it cost very little to live in Chang-Yuan.
+
+The crowd at the gate had been bigger than usual this Sunday, and during
+the service had hurled a considerable quantity of mud and sticks and a
+few dead animals which now remained in the foreground, but this was due
+entirely to the new hatred of the foreign devils engendered by the
+rioters, and many of those who to-day howled at the gate of the compound
+had been glad enough six months before to creep to the veranda and beg
+for medicine and food. Now all was changed. The victorious Wu was coming
+to drive these child eaters from the land. Already he had laid the
+country waste for miles to the north and west, and had slain three witch
+doctors and hung their bodies upon pointed stakes before the temple
+gates. He was marching even now with his army from Tung-Kuan--a distance
+of fifteen miles. Nominally loyal to the dynasty, the inhabitants of
+Chang-Yuan eagerly awaited his coming. The white devils pretended to
+heal the sick but in reality they poisoned them and caused the sickness
+themselves. Those who survived their potions had an evil spirit. The
+crowd at the gate licked its lips at what would take place when Wu
+should arrive. There would be a fine bonfire and a great killing of
+child eaters. Their hatred even extended to the daughter of the foreign
+devil--her whom once they had been wont to call "The Little White
+Saint," who had nursed their children through the cholera and brought
+them rice and rhubarb during the famine. Wu would come during the day
+and then--! The uproar at the gate grew louder. Newbegin laid his moist
+hand upon that of his wife and looked warningly at her as there came a
+rustle of silk inside the open door and their niece made her appearance.
+
+Margaret Wellington, now eighteen years old, had lived with them at
+Chang-Yuan for ten years. Her father, a naval officer, had died the year
+they had come out from America and they had picked up the little girl,
+the daughter of Newbegin's deceased only sister, at Hong Kong and
+brought her with them. Since then she had been as their daughter,
+working with them and entering enthusiastically into all their
+missionary labors. Sometimes they regretted not being able to give her a
+better education, and that she had no white companions but themselves,
+but the girl herself never seemed to miss these things and they believed
+that what was best for them was best for her. Were they not earning
+salvation? And was she not also? Was it not better for her to live in
+the Lord than to dwell in the tents of wickedness? Great as was their
+love for her it was nothing to their love for the Lord Jesus. For that
+they were ready and eager to lay down their lives--and hers.
+
+"Chi says the rioters are coming," said Margaret. Her hair was done in
+the Chinese fashion, and she was clad in Chinese dress from head to
+foot, for she had outgrown all her English clothes years ago and there
+were no others to take their place.
+
+"Yes, dear," answered her aunt, "I am afraid they are."
+
+"He says they will kill us," continued the girl. She articulated her
+English words in a way peculiar to herself, due to her strange
+up-bringing, but there was no fear in her brown eyes, and the paleness
+of her face was due only to the heat.
+
+The mob at the gate set up a renewed yelling at sight of her.
+
+"Dear, dear!" said her uncle irresolutely, "I don't believe it will be
+as bad as that. They will calm down by and by." He really felt very
+badly about Margaret. To be killed was all in the day's work so far as
+Henrietta and he were concerned. They had anticipated it sooner or later
+almost as a matter of course, but Margaret----
+
+A stick hurtled across the compound and fell on the veranda at his feet.
+He knew that it would take but little to excite the mob at the gate to
+frenzy, but he had made no preparations to defend the compound, for it
+would have been quite useless. In that swarming city what could one aged
+missionary and two women do to protect themselves? Chi, the only male
+convert, was hardly to be depended upon and all the rest were women. No,
+when the time came they would surrender their lives and accept
+martyrdom. It was for that that they had come to China. Newbegin's mind
+worked slowly, but he was a man of infinite courage.
+
+"Dear, dear!" he repeated, looking toward the gate.
+
+"Cowards!" cried the girl, her eyes flashing. "Ungrateful people! They
+will kill us, and Chi, and Om, and Su, and the other women and their
+babies. We must do something to protect them."
+
+"Dear me! Dear me!" stammered her uncle again, rubbing his eyes. The
+crowd at the gate had fallen back and a strange vision had taken its
+place. Involuntarily he removed his hat. The girl uttered a cry of
+astonishment as the gate swung open and a young man in a white duck
+uniform entered the compound followed by four erect figures also in
+white and carrying rifles on their shoulders.
+
+"Bless me!" exclaimed Newbegin, "it looks like a naval officer!"
+
+The boy came straight to the veranda and touched his cap.
+
+"Are you the Rev. Theophilus Newbegin?" he inquired.
+
+"I am," answered the missionary, holding out his hand.
+
+"I am John Russell, ensign in command of the U. S. gunboat _Dirigo_. I
+have been sent by Admiral Wheeler to assist you to leave Chang-Yuan."
+
+"Bless me!" exclaimed the Rev. Theophilus. "Very kind of him, I'm sure!
+And you, too, of course, and you, too! Henrietta, let me introduce you
+to Ensign Russell. Er--won't those--er--gentlemen come inside and sit
+down?" he added, staring vaguely at the squad of bluejackets.
+
+"Oh, they're all right!" said the boy, shaking hands with Mrs. Newbegin,
+and wondering what sort of a queer old guy this was whom he had been
+sent to rescue. "Beastly hot, isn't it? Do you have it like this
+often?"
+
+"Eight months in the year," said Mrs. Newbegin, "but we're used to it."
+
+At this moment the boy became conscious of the presence of one whom he
+at first took to be the prettiest Chinese girl he had ever seen.
+
+"Let me present my niece--Ensign Russell," said Newbegin.
+
+The boy held out his hand but the girl only smiled.
+
+"It is very good of you to come so far to help us," said the girl.
+
+"Oh, no trouble at all!" exclaimed the boy without taking his eyes from
+her face. "I'm glad I got here in time," he added.
+
+"Did you come on a ship?" asked the girl.
+
+"Just a little gunboat," he answered, "but that makes me think. This
+plagued lake is sinking all the time. I got aground in half a dozen
+places. We've got to start right along back. I'm by no means sure we can
+get out as it is, but it's better than staying here. You'd oblige me by
+packing up as quickly as possible."
+
+"Eh?" said the Rev. Theophilus, with something of a start, "what's
+that?"
+
+"Why, that we've got to start right along or we'll be stuck here and
+won't be able to get away at all."
+
+"But I can't abandon the mission!" said Newbegin in wonder.
+
+"Certainly not!" echoed his wife placidly. "After all these years we
+cannot desert our post!"
+
+"But the rioters!" ejaculated the boy. "You'll be murdered! Wu will be
+here before night, they tell me, and there was a precious crowd of
+ruffians at the gate as I came along. Why, you can't stay to be
+killed!"
+
+Newbegin shook his head.
+
+"You do not understand," he said slowly. "We came out here to rescue
+these people from idolatry. Some of them have adopted Christianity.
+There are forty women and children converts. There are others who are
+almost persuaded; if we abandon them now we shall undo all our labor.
+No! we must stay with them, and die with them, if necessary, but we
+cannot go away now."
+
+"Great Scott!" cried the boy, "do you mean to say that----"
+
+"We cannot desert our post," repeated Mrs. Newbegin, looking fondly at
+her husband.
+
+"But--but--" began the boy.
+
+"Even if we die, there is the example," said Newbegin.
+
+The boy was puzzled. Of missionaries he had a poor enough opinion in
+general, and this one looked like a great oaf and so did his fat wife,
+but in the most ordinary way and with the commonest of accents he was
+talking of "dying for the example." Then his eyes returned to the girl
+who had been watching him intently all the time.
+
+"But," he exclaimed, "certainly you won't place your niece in such
+danger?"
+
+"No," said Newbegin, "that would not be right."
+
+"No," repeated the wife, "she had better go back."
+
+"I will not go back," cried the girl, "unless you go, too! This is my
+home. Your work is my work. I cannot leave Om and Su and their babies."
+
+"Good God!" muttered the boy hopelessly. "Don't you see you _must_ come?
+You _can't_ stay here to be murdered by the rioters! I can't _let_ you!
+On the other hand, I can only stay here an hour or two at the most. The
+_Dirigo_ is almost aground as it is and we shall have the dev--deuce of
+a time getting out of the lake."
+
+"Well," said Newbegin calmly, "I have told you that we cannot accept
+your offer. We are very grateful, of course, but it's impossible. It
+would not do; no, it would not do. A missionary expects this kind of a
+thing. I wish Margaret would go, but what can I do, if she won't go? I
+can't make her go."
+
+"I want to stay with you," said Margaret, taking his hand. "I will never
+leave you and Aunt Henrietta."
+
+The boy swore roundly to himself. The crowd of Chinese had returned to
+the gate, and the air of the compound stank in his nostrils. He took out
+his watch.
+
+"It's eleven o'clock," he said firmly. "At five I shall leave
+Chang-Yuan; till then you have to make up your minds. I will return in
+an hour or so."
+
+Newbegin shook his head.
+
+"Our answer will be the same. We are very grateful. I am sorry not to
+seem more hospitable. Have you seen the temple and the pagoda?"
+
+"No," answered the boy. "I suppose I might as well do the town, now I'm
+here."
+
+"I will show you the temple," said Margaret timidly. "They know me
+there, I nursed the child of the old priest. I will take you."
+
+"Yes," said Newbegin, "they all like Margaret, and I seem to be
+unpopular now. Will you not take dinner with us?"
+
+"Thank you," said the boy, "take dinner with _me_. Perhaps Mrs. Newbegin
+would like to see the gunboat, and I have some photographs of the new
+cruisers."
+
+Margaret gazed beseechingly at her.
+
+"Very well," said Newbegin, "if you will stop for us on your way back
+from the temple we shall be quite ready, but I must return at once after
+dinner in order to assemble the members of the mission."
+
+The girl led the way to the gate.
+
+"I'm sure you will not need the soldiers," she said; "it is but a short
+distance." The crowd, observing that the bluejackets had remained inside
+the compound, crowded close at the boy's heels as they threaded the
+streets to the temple.
+
+"I spend a good deal of time here," said the girl; "sometimes it is the
+only cool place."
+
+The boy paid the small charge for admission and followed his guide up
+the dim, winding stairs. It was dank and quiet; the priest had remained
+at the gate. From the blue-green shadows of the recesses upon the
+landings a score of Buddhas stared at them with sightless eyes. Suddenly
+they emerged into the clear air upon the platform of the top story and
+the girl spoke for the first time since they had entered.
+
+"There is Chang-Yuan," she said.
+
+The boy gazed down curiously. Below them blazed thousands of highly
+finished roofs, picturesque enough from this height, while beyond the
+town the soup-colored waters of the lake stretched limitless to the
+horizon. He could see the embankment and the little _Dirigo_ at anchor,
+the _sampans_ still swarming around it. To the south lay a country of
+swamps and of paddy fields; to the north the line of hills and the smoke
+of the burning towns.
+
+They sat down on a stone bench and gazed together at the uninviting
+prospect. He was beset with curiosity to ask her a thousand questions
+about herself, yet he did not know how to begin. She solved the problem
+for him, however.
+
+"I have lived here since I was eight years old," she remarked,
+apparently being unable to think of anything else to say.
+
+The boy whistled between his teeth.
+
+"Do you enjoy it?" he asked.
+
+"I don't know," she replied, "I don't know anything else. Sometimes it
+seems dull and one has to work very hard, but I think I like it."
+
+"But what do you do," he inquired, "to amuse yourself?"
+
+"I read," she said, "and play with Om and Su. I have taught them some
+American games. Do you know parchesi and the Mansion of Happiness?"
+
+"Yes, I've played them," he admitted cautiously. "But do you never see
+any white people except your uncle and aunt?"
+
+"Why, no," she said. "Two summers ago, after the cholera, we visited Dr.
+Ferguson at Chang-Wing--that is over there. He is a medical missionary,
+but I did not like him because he asked me to marry him. He was sixty
+years old. Do you think it was right?"
+
+"Right!" cried the boy. "It was a wicked sin."
+
+"Well, he is the only white man I have met except you," said the girl.
+"Of course, I can remember a little playing with boys and girls a long,
+long time ago. Where is your ship?"
+
+"That little white one down there. Can you see?" said the boy, pointing.
+
+"Oh, is that it?" she asked. "Where are its sails?"
+
+"There aren't any," he answered; "it goes by steam."
+
+"I have read the 'Voyage of the Sunbeam,'" she said, "it is a beautiful
+book. It came out last year in a box. I have nearly twenty books in
+all."
+
+The boy bit his lips. He was getting angry--angry that an American girl
+should have been imprisoned in such a hole all her young life--such a
+girl, too! What right had an elderly man and woman, even though they
+enjoyed the privilege of consanguinity, to exile a beautiful child from
+her native country and bring her up for the glory of God in a stewing,
+stinking, cholera-infested, famine-ridden Chinese village?
+
+"It is strange to find you here," he said finally. "I expected only some
+freckle-faced, jimmy-jawed, psalm-singing woman, who would tumble all
+over herself to get away."
+
+She looked at him puzzled for a moment and then burst into a ripple of
+laughter.
+
+"What funny things you say!" she cried. "I suppose it is strange to find
+me here, but why should I have freckles or a--what did you call it--a
+jimmy-jaw? I do sing psalms. But my being here is no stranger than that
+you should be here. I have often wished some young man would come. You
+are the first I have known. I am tired of only women."
+
+For a moment he was almost shocked at the open implication, but her
+frank eyes and matter-of-fact tone told him that the girl could not
+flirt. It was out of her sphere of existence.
+
+"Would you like to get married?" he hazarded.
+
+"Oh, yes!" she cried. "To a young man!"
+
+"But suppose you had to go away?"
+
+She looked a little puzzled for a moment.
+
+"Of course, I should not like to leave Om and Su, and I wouldn't leave
+uncle and aunt, but sometimes--sometimes I have wondered if one couldn't
+serve God in a pleasanter place and do just as much good."
+
+"Are there any men converts?" he asked.
+
+"Only Chi," she replied, "and I am quite sure he is an idolater at
+heart. Besides," she added, with a droll look in her eyes, "Chi is a
+gambler and is always drinking _samshu_. He had been drinking it this
+morning. I have often spoken to uncle about it, but he has not got the
+heart to send him away."
+
+The boy laughed.
+
+"I have a certain amount of sympathy with Chi," said he. "If I lived
+here I should be as bad as he is. I should think you would die of the
+heat and the smells, and never seeing anybody."
+
+"Oh, it's not so bad," she said spiritlessly. "You see, I have to work
+pretty hard. There are nearly twenty families now where there is
+sickness, and in case of anything contagious I go there and nurse.
+Sometimes I get very tired, but it keeps me occupied and so I suppose I
+don't think about--other things."
+
+"It's terrible to think of leaving you here," he said. "Can't you
+persuade your uncle and aunt that their duty does not require them to
+lay down their lives needlessly?"
+
+"No," she answered, "nothing would persuade them that it was not their
+duty to remain; nothing could persuade _me_ of that."
+
+"And you would not leave them?" he urged, almost tenderly.
+
+"Oh, how _could_ I? I must stay with them! Don't you see?" She took hold
+of his hand and held it. It was quite natural and totally unconscious.
+"That is what missionaries are for."
+
+A thrill traveled up the nerves of his arm and accelerated the motion of
+his heart.
+
+"That is not what _you_ are for," he said quietly.
+
+"I must! I must!" she repeated. "Oh, I should like to go with you, but I
+can't."
+
+"But think of yourself!" he cried harshly. "Your uncle and aunt can die
+for the glory of God if they choose, but they've no right to let you
+die, too, just out of loyalty to them. It's cruel and wrong. It makes me
+sick to think of you penned up here in this nasty, yellow place all
+these years when you ought to have been going to school, and riding and
+sailing, and playing tennis, and having a good time."
+
+"Oh!" she protested.
+
+"No, hear me out," he insisted, "and having a good time! You can serve
+God and yet be happy, can't you? And your place isn't here in the midst
+of cholera and famine and malaria. It's different with people who have
+lived their lives, but with you, so young and fresh and pretty."
+
+"Oh!" she cried joyfully, "do you think I am pretty? I'm so glad!"
+
+"Do I!" he replied hotly. "Too pretty to be allowed to go wandering
+around these crooked Chinese streets--" he checked himself. "I say it's
+a shame! And now to stay here, after all, to be butchered!" He jumped to
+his feet and ground his teeth.
+
+She gazed at him, startled, and said reproachfully:
+
+"I don't think it is right for you to say things like that. 'Whoso
+loseth his life for my sake shall find it.' Don't you remember?"
+
+He made no reply, realizing the hopelessness of his position.
+
+"Come," he said, "let us go back."
+
+She was afraid she had offended him but was too timid to do more than to
+take his hand and let him lead her gently down the winding stairs.
+
+At the gate of the temple they found the crowd augmented by several
+hundred persons, who closed in behind and marched along to the compound.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Newbegin were waiting on the veranda and the marines had
+been having a little _samshu_. The boy was by no means sorry to have the
+company of his escort for the rest of their walk, and the party made
+good time to the _Dirigo_. The _bund_ was alive with spectators and so
+was the whole long line of shore. There were Chinese everywhere, on the
+beach, on rafts, in _sampans_, swimming in the water, all around,
+wherever you looked there were a dozen yellow faces--waiting--waiting
+for something. Even in the broil of that inland sun the chills crept up
+the boy's spine.
+
+The Rev. Theophilus and his wife were much pleased with the gunboat and
+sat in the cabin in the draught of the two electric fans sipping
+lemonade, while the boy showed the girl over the _Dirigo_. He had made
+one last passionate appeal to the missionary and his wife, who had again
+flatly refused to leave the city. Margaret had likewise reasserted her
+determination not to desert them. The boy was in despair and cursed them
+to himself for stupid, bigoted fools. He was showing the girl his little
+stateroom with its tiny bookcase and pictures and she had paused
+fascinated before one which showed a group of young people gathered on a
+smooth lawn with tennis rackets in their hands. All were smiling or
+laughing. Margaret could not tear herself away from it.
+
+"How happy they look!" she whispered. "How fresh and clean and cool
+everything is! What are those things in their hands?"
+
+"What do you mean?" he asked.
+
+"The round things that look like nets," she explained.
+
+The boy gasped.
+
+"Tennis rackets! Do you mean to say you've never seen a tennis racket?"
+
+"I don't think so." She hesitated. "Perhaps ever so long ago when I was
+a little girl, but I've forgotten."
+
+The boy's anger flamed to a white heat as he glanced out through the
+stateroom door to where the Rev. Theophilus and wife sat stolidly
+luxuriating in the artificial draught.
+
+"When I was a child we lived for a while in Shanghai. My father's ship
+was there," she added.
+
+"Your father in the navy?" cried the boy hoarsely. "What was his name?"
+
+"Wellington," she answered. "He was a commander. He died at Hong Kong
+ten years ago."
+
+"Wellington! Richard Wellington? He was in my father's class at
+Annapolis!" cried the boy. Then he groaned and bit his lips. "Oh!--oh!
+it's a crime!"
+
+He dropped on one knee and took her hands.
+
+"Poor little girl!" he almost sobbed, "poor little girl! Think of it!
+Ten years! Poor child!"
+
+Margaret laid one hand on his head.
+
+"I am quite happy," she said calmly.
+
+"Happy!" He gave a half-hysterical laugh and shook his fist at the door.
+Then he leaned over and whispered eagerly:
+
+"You're tired, dear. Lie down for a few minutes and rest. Do--to please
+me."
+
+She smiled. "To please you," she repeated, as she leaned back among the
+cushions which he placed for her, and he closed the door.
+
+"Your niece is going to take a little nap," he explained to the
+missionary. "Here are some prints of the new battleships. I must ask you
+to excuse me for a moment. Saki will serve dinner directly."
+
+"Oh, certainly--of course," murmured Newbegin, recovering from
+semi-consciousness.
+
+The boy sprang up the hatch.
+
+"Here, McGaw!" he ejaculated, rushing to where his midshipman stood
+watching the swarm of _sampans_ that covered the lake around the
+_Dirigo_. "Get up steam! Do you hear? Get up steam as fast as you can!
+I'm going to hike out of this!"
+
+"All right, sir," replied McGaw in a rather surprised tone. "We can't
+get off any too soon to please me. Did you ever see such a hole? Hello!
+What's all that?" He pointed to a highly decorated _sampan_ coming
+rapidly toward them, before which the others parted of their own accord,
+making a broad line of water to the _Dirigo_.
+
+"By Godfrey! It's the mandarin!" cried the boy. "Where's Yen? Here you,
+Yen! Go make mucha laugh for the _erfu_!"
+
+The _sampan_, however, turned out not to contain the _erfu_. A small,
+fat Chinaman in the mandarin's livery stood up and bawled to Yen through
+his hands.
+
+"He say," translated Yen over his shoulder, "Wu no come. Viceroy soldier
+man make big fight--kill plenty--Wu finish. Allight now everybody.
+Missionary come back. Wu no make smoke, anyway. He long, long way off.
+This fella lika Melican naval officer maka lil _kumsha_[2] for good
+news. _Kumsha_ for maka mucha laugh."
+
+[Footnote 2: Present, gratuity.]
+
+"What!" roared the boy. "Pay him! Tell him to go to hell!"
+
+McGaw watched the boy as he stamped up and down the deck running his
+hands through his hair and wondered if he had a touch of sun. The
+mandarin's messenger still remained in an attitude of expectancy in the
+bow of the _sampan_. Suddenly the midshipman saw his superior officer
+rush to the side of the _Dirigo_ and throw a Mexican silver dollar at
+the Chinaman, who caught it with surprising dexterity.
+
+"Tell him," shouted the boy to Yen, "to say to the _erfu_ that he could
+not find us, that we had gone away before he could deliver his message!"
+
+The fat Chinaman prostrated himself in the _sampan_.
+
+"He say allight," remarked Yen.
+
+"Do you believe what he said?" demanded the boy threateningly of McGaw.
+
+"Sure," said the midshipman, "that's right enough! That old friend of
+Yen's was out here again about an hour ago, snooping around, drunk as a
+lord. He'd been loading up on _samshu_ ever since he went ashore. He
+says that Wu was killed over a month ago, that his head is on a temple
+gate five hundred miles north of here, and that the smoke over there is
+caused by burning brush on the hillsides. The rebellion is all over
+until next year. It's a great note for us, isn't it?"
+
+But the boy made no reply. He was staring straight through McGaw out
+across the lake. Suddenly he stepped close to the midshipman and
+muttered quietly:
+
+"Say, old man, for the sake of old times, can you forget all that?"
+
+"Sure," gasped McGaw, convinced that his previous suspicions had been
+correct.
+
+"Then forget it and get up steam!" said the boy, turning sharply on his
+heel.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+The click of the anchor engine was followed by the throbbing of the
+_Dirigo_'s screw, but both the Rev. Theophilus and wife supposed them to
+be the whirr of an unseen electric fan. Saki's dinner was exceptionally
+good, and there was a cold bottle of vichy for the missionary, who
+lingered a long time after the coffee to tell about the ravages of the
+cholera the year before. When at last they ascended to the deck there
+was nothing to be seen of Chang-Yuan but a glare of tile roofs on the
+distant horizon.
+
+"Bless me!" remarked the Rev. Theophilus, gazing stupidly at the
+coffee-colored waves about them. "What is the meaning of all this? Where
+are we going? I must go ashore. I have no time for pleasure sailing!"
+
+"Certainly not!" echoed his wife. "Kindly return at once! Why, we are
+miles from Chang-Yuan!"
+
+And then it was, according to McGaw, that the boy more than rose to the
+occasion and verified the prophecy of the Admiral, though under a
+somewhat different interpretation, that he would "make good," for,
+standing by Margaret's side, he saluted the missionary and with eyes
+straight to the front delivered himself of the following preposterous
+statement:
+
+"I exceedingly regret that my orders do not permit me to exercise the
+discretion necessary to return as you request. The Admiral commanding
+the Asiatic squadron specifically directed me to proceed at once to
+this place and rescue the Rev. Theophilus Newbegin and wife. I was given
+no option in the matter. I was to _rescue_ you, that is all. I received
+no instructions as to what to do in the event that you preferred not to
+be rescued, and I interpret my orders to mean that I am to rescue you
+whether you like it or not. Everything will be done for your entire
+comfort and Saki has already prepared my stateroom for Mrs. Newbegin. I
+trust that you will not blame me for obeying my orders."
+
+"Bless me!" stammered the Rev. Theophilus. "Dear me! I really do not
+know what to say! I am exceedingly disturbed. It seems to me like an
+unwarrantable interference--not on your part, of course, but on that of
+the Government. But," he added apologetically, "we cannot blame you for
+obeying your orders, can we, Henrietta?"
+
+But Mrs. Newbegin's ordinarily vacuous face bore a new and radiant
+expression.
+
+"I see the hand of Providence in this, Theophilus!" she said.
+
+"Yes--yes!" he answered, wiping his forehead. "God moves in a mysterious
+way--in an astonishing way, I might say." He looked regretfully over his
+shoulder toward the fast-vanishing Chang-Yuan.
+
+Margaret slipped her hand into his and laid her head on his arm. "I am
+so glad, uncle!" she whispered. He patted her cheek.
+
+"Yes, yes, it is probably better this way," he sighed. "Henrietta, let
+us retire to the cabin and consider what has happened. My young friend,
+be assured we bear you no ill will for your involuntary action in this
+matter."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Four evenings later under the snapping stars of the midsummer heaven
+Margaret Wellington and Jack Russell sat side by side in two camp chairs
+on the bridge of the _Dirigo_. The gunboat was sweeping round the great
+curve of the Yang-tse above Hankow and to starboard the pagodas of
+Wu-chang rose dimly through the lights of the city. Below in the hot
+cabin sat the Rev. Theophilus and his wife reading "The Spirit of
+Missions."
+
+"And now," said the boy, as he drew her hand through his, "you are going
+to be happy forever and always. The world is full of wonderful things
+and nice, kind people who are trying to do good and yet have a jolly
+time while they are doing it. And you will have the dearest mother a
+girl ever had. How proud she'll be of you! Now promise to forgive me;
+you know why I did it! Do you suppose I'd have dared to do it if I
+hadn't?"
+
+"Yes," she answered happily, "I knew why you did it and I forgive you,
+only, of course, it really was very wicked. But----"
+
+The sentence was never finished--to the delight of the government pilot
+behind them.
+
+"What do you think my uncle will say when we tell him?" she laughed.
+
+"He'll say, 'Bless me! Dear me! I don't know!'" answered the boy, and
+they both giggled hysterically.
+
+Abaft the black shadow of the smokestack Yen and the Shan-si man stood
+in silence watching the two on the bridge. The Shan-si man raised his
+arm once more in the direction of Wu-chang and made a joke.
+
+"Above is Heaven's Hall!" said he. "Below are--the two most foolish
+things in all the world--a boy and a girl!"
+
+
+
+
+THE VAGABOND
+
+
+      "There is no essential incongruity between crime and
+      culture."
+                    --_Oscar Wilde, "The Decay of Lying."_
+
+It was five o'clock, Sunday afternoon, and the slanting sunbeams had
+crawled across the bed and up the walls and vanished somehow into the
+ceiling when Voltaire McCartney came to himself, kicked off the
+patchwork quilt, elevated his torso upon one elbow and took an
+observation out of the dingy window. The prospect of the Palisades to
+the northwest was undimmed, for the wind was blowing fresh from the sea
+and the smoke from the glucose factory on the Jersey side was making
+straight up the river in a long, black horizontal bar, behind which the
+horizon glowed in a brilliant, translucent mass of cloud. McCartney
+swung his thin legs clear of the bed and fumbled with his left hand in
+the pocket of a plaid waistcoat dangling from the iron post. The act was
+unconscious, equivalent to the automatic groping for one's slippers
+which perchance the reader's own well-regulated feet perform on similar
+occasions. The pocket in question yielded a square of white tissue,
+which the fingers deftly folded, transferred to the other hand, and then
+filled with tobacco. Like others nourished upon stimulants and
+narcotics, McCartney awoke _absolutely_, without a trace of drowsiness,
+nervously ready to do the next thing, whatever that might chance to be.
+His first act was to pull on his shoes, the second to slip his
+suspenders over his rather narrow shoulders, and the third to light the
+cigarette. Then he sauntered across the room to the window sill, upon
+which slept profoundly a small tortoise-shell cat, and picked up a
+pocket volume, well worn, which he shook open at a point designated by a
+safety match. For several moments he devoured the page with his eyes,
+his hollow face filled with peculiar exaltation. Then he expelled a
+cloud of smoke sucked from the glowing end of his cigarette, tossed away
+the butt, and thrust the book into his hip pocket.
+
+    "O would there were a heaven to hear!
+    O would there were a hell to fear!
+    Ah, welcome fire, eternal fire,
+    To burn forever and not tire!
+
+    "Better Ixion's whirling wheel,
+    And still at any cost to feel!
+    Dear Son of God, in mercy give
+    My soul to flames, but--let me _live_!"
+
+He turned away from the window, and pale against the gaudy west his
+profile shone drawn and haggard. Restlessly he filched his pocket for
+another cigarette, and tossed himself wearily into a painted rocker. The
+cat awakened, elongated herself in a prodigious and voluptuous yawn of
+her whole body, dropped to the floor and leaped with a single spring
+into her master's lap. He stroked her sadly.
+
+"Isabeau! My poor Isabeau! I envy you--creature perfect in symmetry,
+perfect in feeling!"
+
+The cat rubbed her head against the buttons of his coat. McCartney
+leaned back his head. The little room was bare of ornament or of
+furniture other than the chair, save for a deal table at the foot of the
+bed, bearing a litter of newspapers and yellow pad paper.
+
+    "I am discouraged by the street,
+    The pacing of monotonous feet!"
+
+murmured the man in the rocker. The light died out above the Palisades;
+the cat snuggled down between her master's legs.
+
+    "Dear Son of God, in mercy give
+    My soul to flames, but let me _live_!"
+
+he added softly. Then he lifted the cat gently to the floor, threw on a
+short, faded reefer coat, and opened the door.
+
+"Well, Isabeau, it's time for us to go out and earn our supper!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+McCartney gazed solemnly down from the small rostrum upon which he was
+standing at the end of the saloon without so much as a smile in answer
+to the roar of appreciation with which his time-worn anecdote had been
+received.
+
+"Dot's goot!" shouted an abdominal "Dutchman," pounding the table with
+his beer mug. "Gif us 'n odder!"
+
+"Ya!" exclaimed his _confrère_. "Dot feller, he was a corker, eh?" He
+put up his hands and making a trumpet of them bawled at McCartney:
+"Here, kommen sie unt haf a glass bier mit us!"
+
+Three teamsters, a card sharp, a porter, two cabbies, and a dozen
+unclassables nodded their heads and stamped, while the bartender passed
+up a foaming stein to the performer. McCartney blew off the froth, bowed
+with easy grace to the assembled company, and drank. Then he descended
+to the table occupied by the Germans.
+
+"May you all have better luck than the gentleman in my story," he
+remarked. "But I for one shall go straight to the other place. Heaven
+for climate--hell for society, eh? Hoch der Kaiser!"
+
+The Germans threw back their heads and laughed boisterously.
+
+"Make that beer a sandwich, will you? Here, Bill, bring me a slice of
+cold beef and a cheese sandwich!"
+
+The bartender opened a small ice chest and produced the desired edibles,
+to which variation in their offered hospitality the two interposed no
+objection, being in fact somewhat in awe of their intellectual, if not
+distinguished, guest. As McCartney ate he produced a handful of
+transparent dice.
+
+"Ever see any dice like those?" he asked, rolling them across the wet
+table. The first German examined them with approval.
+
+"Dose is pooty, eh?" he remarked to his neighbor. "I trow you for die
+Schnapps, eh?"
+
+McCartney watched them covetously as they emptied the leathern shaker,
+solemnly counting the spots at the conclusion of each cast.
+
+"Here, let me show you how," volunteered their guest. "Poker hands." He
+rattled the dice and poured them forth. They came up indiscriminately.
+
+"Not so goot, eh?" commented the German. "I'll trow you. I'll trow
+ennyboty mit _clear_ dice. Venn dey ain't loated I can trow mit
+ennyboty." He held them up to the light. "Dese is clear--goot."
+
+"Three times for a dollar," said McCartney.
+
+"So," answered the German. He threw carefully, and counted two sixes, an
+ace, a three, and a five. He left in the sixes and threw the others.
+This time he got an ace and two fives. Once more he put them back, but
+accomplished no better result.
+
+"Now, I'll show you," said McCartney, and emptied the shaker. The dice
+tumbled upon the table to the tune of two aces, two deuces, and a five.
+He put back the deuces and the five and threw another ace, a three, and
+a five.
+
+"I win," he remarked. "You don't know how!"
+
+"Vat's dot? Don't know how, eh!" roared the other. "I trow you for fife
+dollars, see? Gif me dose leetle dice." He threw with a heavy bang that
+shook the table. This time he got two sixes, two aces, and a five, and
+put back the latter. Securing another ace he leaned back and took a
+heavy draught of beer. "Full house! Beat dat eef you can!"
+
+McCartney tossed the dice carelessly upon the board for two fours, one
+ace, and two fives. To the amazement of the Germans, he left in the ace
+and returned the other four to the shaker. This time he got two more
+aces. His last throw gave him another ace and a five.
+
+"Zum teuffel!" growled the German, thrusting his hand into his pocket
+and drawing forth a dirty wad of bills. "Here, take your money!" He
+handed McCartney six dollars.
+
+"Kind sirs, good night," remarked McCartney, thrusting the bills into
+his waistcoat pocket and arising from his place. "I must betake me
+hence. Experience is the only teacher. Let me advise you never to play
+games of chance with strangers."
+
+The two Germans stared at him stupidly.
+
+"You don't understand? Permit me. You saw the dice were not loaded? Very
+good! You examined them? Very good again. Your powers of observation are
+uncultivated, merely. The stern mother of invention--that is to say
+necessity--has obeyed the law of evolution. Three of the dice in my
+pocket bear no even numbers. The information is well worth your six
+dollars. Again, good night."
+
+"Betrüger!" cried the loser of the six dollars, arising heavily and
+upsetting his beer. "Dot feller skivinded us mit dice geloaded! _Sheet!
+Sheet!_"
+
+They blundered toward the side entrance, while McCartney side-stepped
+into an adjacent portal. Long Acre Square gleamed from end to end. Above
+him an electric display, momentarily vanishing and reappearing, heralded
+the attributes of the cigar sacred to the Scottish bard. Peering through
+the haze generated by the countless lights a few tiny stars repaid
+diligent search. A scanty number of pedestrians was abroad. The pantheon
+of delights shone silent save for an occasional clanging car. The
+Germans passed in search of an officer, excitedly jabbering about the
+"sheet," their angry expressions reverberating along the concrete,
+fading gradually into the hum of the lower town.
+
+Then slowly into view crept one of those anachronisms of the
+metropolis--a huge, shaggy horse slowly stalking northward, dragging a
+rickety express wagon whereon reposed a semisomnolent yokel. Hitched by
+its shafts to the tail of the wagon trailed a decrepit brougham
+(destined, probably, for country-depot service), behind this a
+debilitated Stanhope buggy, followed by a dogcart, a phaeton, a
+buckboard, with last of all a hoodless Victoria. This picturesquely
+mournful procession of vanished respectability staggered hesitatingly
+past our hero, who regarded it with vast amusement. To his fanciful
+imagination it appeared like the fleshless vertebræ of a sea serpent
+slowly writhing into the obscurity of the night. Occasionally one of the
+component dorsals would strike an inequality in the pavement and start
+upon a brief frolic of its own, swinging out of line at a tangent until
+hauled back into place again by the pull of the shaggy horse. Sometimes
+all started in different directions at one and the same time, and the
+semblance to a skeleton snake was heightened--even the ominous rattle
+was not wanting. The Victoria looked restful to McCartney, whose legs
+were always tired.
+
+    "Why should we fret that others ride?
+    Perhaps dull care sits by their side,
+    And leaves us foot-men free!"
+
+he hummed to himself, recollecting an old college glee.
+
+"All the same that old bandbox looks not uncomfortable. How long is it
+since I have used a cushion! Poverty makes a poor bedfellow!"
+
+As the last equipage swung by, McCartney took a few steps in the same
+direction and clambered in. He had become a "foot-man" in fact, but a
+very undignified and luxurious one, who lay back with his feet crossed
+against the box in front of him. Of all the lights on Broadway none
+glowed so comfortingly for McCartney as the tip of his cigarette.
+
+"My prayer is answered," he remarked softly to himself. "Thus do I
+escape the 'monotonous feet.' Had I only Isabeau I should have attained
+the height of human happiness--to have dined, to smoke, to ride on
+cushions under the starlight, to have six dollars, and not to know
+where one is going--a plethora of gifts. So I can spare Isabeau for the
+nonce. Doubtless she would not particularly care for the delights of
+locomotion."
+
+Thus Voltaire sailed northward, noticed only by solitary policemen and
+lonely wayfarers. Near Eightieth Street his eye caught the burning
+circle of a clock pointing at half-past nine, and he stretched himself
+and yawned again. They were passing the vestibule of an old church which
+contrasted quaintly with the more ambitious modern architecture of the
+neighborhood. From the interior floated out the gray unison of a hymn.
+McCartney swung himself to the ground and listened while the skeleton
+rattled up the avenue.
+
+"Egad!" thought he, "yon prayerful folk are not troubled with my
+disorder. Hell is for them what Jersey City is for me--a vital reality."
+
+A woman, her head shrouded in a worn gray shawl, approached timidly and
+stationed herself near the door. McCartney could see that she was
+weeping and that she had a baby in her arms. He grumbled a bit to
+himself at this business. It did not suit his fancy--his scheme. Having
+planned a continuation of this night of comedy so auspiciously begun, he
+disliked any incongruity.
+
+"Broke?" he inquired without rising. The woman nodded.
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+"Dan cleared out the flat and skipped yesterday afternoon. We've had
+nothing to eat--me and the kid--all day."
+
+"Let's look at your hands."
+
+The woman held out a thin, rough, red hand. McCartney gave it a glance
+and continued:
+
+"What's your kid's name?"
+
+"Catherine."
+
+McCartney gazed at her intently.
+
+"Look here, do you think those folks in there would help you?"
+
+"I don't know. It's better than the Island."
+
+"Don't try it," advised McCartney. "They'd think you were working some
+game on 'em. Leave this graft to me."
+
+The woman started back, half frightened, but McCartney's smile reassured
+her.
+
+"Here's yours on account." He handed her the five-dollar bill he had
+secured from the Germans. "_I_ know how. _You_ don't. _You_ need it. _I_
+don't." He waved aside her thanks. "Now go home, and, listen to me,
+don't take Dan back--he's no good."
+
+The woman hurried away, and with her departure silence fell again.
+
+McCartney seated himself upon the curb and lit still another cigarette,
+eying the door expectantly. Once he arose and dropped a piece of silver
+into the poorbox inside the porch, listening intently to the loud rattle
+it made in falling. It was clearly the sole occupant, for no answering
+clink came in response.
+
+    "Alas for the rarity
+    Of Christian charity
+      Under the sun,"
+
+softly murmured McCartney.
+
+"You will be lonely in there all by yourself, little one. Here's a
+brother to keep you company," said he, pushing in another.
+
+The hymn ceased and the congregation began to pass out. McCartney
+retired into the darkness of a corner, scrutinizing every face among the
+worshipers. Last of all came a little old man scuffling along with the
+aid of a cane. His snowy beard gave him an aspect singularly benign.
+McCartney laughed to himself.
+
+"Grandpapa, I trust we shall become better acquainted," he remarked
+under his breath, as he followed the old fellow down the street.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The loud vibrations of the bell in the deserted rooms of the floor below
+brought no immediate response, and instead of a brighter blaze of
+hospitality, the light in the hall was hurriedly extinguished. McCartney
+only pressed his thumb to the round receptacle of the bell the more
+assiduously, repeating the process at varying intervals until the light
+again illumined the door. A shadow hesitated upon the lace curtain, then
+the door itself was slowly, doubtfully opened, and the old man shuffled
+into the vestibule, peering suspiciously through the iron fretwork.
+McCartney, without going too close--he knew well the dread of human
+eyes, face to face--looked nonchalantly up and down the street,
+realizing that he must give his quarry time to regain the
+self-possession this midnight visit had shattered. After a pause the
+bolt was shot and the door opened upon its chain.
+
+"Was that you ringing? What do you want?"
+
+"Yes, it was I who rang. I trust you'll excuse the lateness of my call.
+It's imperative for me to see you."
+
+"Who are you? And what do you want to see me about?"
+
+"My name is Blake. Blake of the _Daily Dial_. It is a personal matter."
+
+"Don't know you. Don't know any Blake. Don't read the _Dial_. What is
+the personal matter?"
+
+"For God's sake, sir, let me speak with you! It's a matter of life and
+death. Don't deny me, sir. Hear me first."
+
+The little old man closed the door a couple of inches.
+
+"Want money, eh?"
+
+"Help, sir. Only a word of sympathy. I've a dying child----"
+
+"Can't you come round in the morning?"
+
+"It will be too late then. I implore you to listen to me for only a few
+moments. I've been waiting two hours upon the sidewalk for you to
+return, and it's too late for me to go elsewhere."
+
+The door opened sufficiently for the old man to thrust his face close to
+the crack and inspect his visitor from head to heels. Evidently
+McCartney's appearance and the manner of his speech had made an
+impression which was now struggling with prudence and common sense. The
+deacon, moreover, had a reputation to support. It would not do to turn
+an applicant away who might be in dire extremity--and who might go
+elsewhere and carry the tale with him.
+
+"Won't a bed ticket do you, eh? And come in the morning?"
+
+McCartney saw the vacillation in the other's mind.
+
+"I'm sorry, but I must see you now, if at all. To-morrow might be too
+late."
+
+The owner of the house closed the door, unslipped the chain and
+retreated inside the hall to the foot of the stairs, leaving the way
+free for his visitor to follow. McCartney entered, hat in hand, and
+shut the door behind him, catching at a glance the austerity of the
+furniture and walls. To him every inch of the Brussels carpet, the
+ponderous, polished walnut hatrack, the massive blue china stand with
+its lonely umbrella and stout bamboo cane, and the heavily framed oil
+copy of St. John spoke eloquently.
+
+"I must ask your pardon again, sir, for disturbing you. But a man of
+your character, as you have no doubt discovered, must suffer for the
+sake of his reputation. I----"
+
+McCartney swayed and seized a yellow-plush _portière_ for support. In a
+moment he had regained control of himself--apparently.
+
+"A touch of faintness. I haven't eaten since morning." He looked around
+for a chair. The old man made a show of concern.
+
+"Nothing to eat! Dear me! Well, well! Come in and sit down. Perhaps I
+can find something."
+
+Deacon Andrews led the way past the stairs and swung open the door to
+the dining room. It had a musty smell, just a hint of the prison pen at
+noon time, and McCartney shuddered. The old man disappeared into the
+darkness, struck a sulphur match, a fact noted by his guest, and with
+some difficulty lighted a gas jet in a grotesquely proportioned
+chandelier. The gas, which had blazed up, he turned down to half its
+original volume.
+
+"There, sit down," said he, pointing to a mahogany chair shrouded in a
+ticking cover, and settled himself in another on the opposite side of a
+great desert of table. McCartney did as he was bidden, mentally
+tabulating the additional facts offered to his observation by the
+remainder of the room. There was evident the same bare vastness as in
+the outer hall. Two more oils, one of mythological, the other of
+religious purport, balanced each other over the wings of a huge black
+carven sideboard. For the rest the yellow and brown wall paper repeated
+itself interminably into the shadow.
+
+"Feel better?" asked the deacon.
+
+"Yes, much," answered McCartney. "I'm used to going without food. The
+body can stand suffering better than the mind--and the heart."
+
+"Let's try and fix up the body first," remarked the deacon, opening a
+compartment beneath the sideboard. "Here, try some of these," and he
+placed a plate of water biscuits upon the table.
+
+McCartney essayed more or less successfully to eat one, while the old
+man retreated into the pantry and, after a hollow ringing of water upon
+an empty sink, returned with a thick tumbler of Croton.
+
+"Good, eh? Nothing like plain flour food and Adam's ale! Now, what is it
+you want to say? I must be getting to bed."
+
+McCartney hastily swallowed the last of the biscuit and leaned forward.
+
+"If I could be sure my dear wife and child could have this to-night, I
+should be happy indeed. Oh, sir, poverty can be borne--but to see those
+whom we love suffer and be powerless to help them--I can hardly address
+myself to you, sir. I have never asked for charity before. I'm a
+hard-working man. I had a good position, a little home of my own, and a
+wife and child whom I loved devotedly. I care for nothing else in the
+world. Then came the chance that ended so disastrously for us. I thought
+it was the tide in my affairs, you know, that might lead on to fortune.
+My wife was offered a position in a traveling company at sixteen
+dollars a week, and they agreed to take me with them as press agent at
+thirty-five--fifty dollars a week all told. Can you blame us?"
+
+"I don't approve of play acting," said the deacon.
+
+"Don't think the less of my wife for that. She meant it for the best."
+McCartney's face worked and he brushed his eyes with the back of his
+hand.
+
+"Look here, what's the use wasting time," interrupted the deacon. "How
+do I know who you are?"
+
+"You have only my word, sir, that is true."
+
+"What did you say you did for a living?"
+
+"I'm a reporter. I live by my pen, sir, and I write articles on various
+subjects for the newspapers. I have even written a very modest book. But
+the modern public has crude taste in literature," sighed McCartney.
+
+"Well, go on, now, and tell me about your trip or whatever it was," said
+the deacon.
+
+"I gave up for the time, as I said, the precarious livelihood of a space
+writer. We sublet our rooms. I spent what little money I had saved upon
+a costume for my wife, and we started out making one-night stands."
+
+"What was the name of your play?" inquired the deacon abruptly.
+
+"'The two Orphans,'" replied McCartney without hesitation. "We got along
+well enough until we reached Rochester, and there the show broke
+down--went to the wall. We were stranded, without a cent, in a
+theatrical boarding house. My wife was taken down with pneumonia and
+little Cathie----"
+
+"Little what?" asked the deacon.
+
+"Short for Catherine--caught the croup. We had nowhere to turn. I pawned
+my watch to pay our board bill. We were sleeping in a single room--the
+three of us. For days I tramped the streets of Rochester looking for
+some work to do, but I was absolutely friendless and could find nothing.
+My wife got a little better, but little Catherine seemed to grow worse.
+I pawned my wife's wedding ring, all my clothes but those I have on,
+even my baby's tiny little bracelet we bought for her on her second
+birthday--O God, how I suffered! We talked it all over and decided that
+as New York was the only place where I was known, I had better return
+and earn enough money to send for them as soon as I could. The manager
+let me use his pass back to the city. I reached here three days ago, but
+I have found no work of any sort. Some of the press boys have shared
+their meals with me, but for the moment I'm penniless. Meantime my wife
+is lying sick in a strange household and my little girl may be dying!"
+McCartney sobbed brokenly. "I'm at my last gasp. I've nowhere to sleep
+to-night. No money to buy breakfast. I can't even pay for a postage
+stamp to write to them!"
+
+"What street did you stay in at Rochester?"
+
+"1421 Maple Avenue," shot back McCartney. "I wish you could see my
+little Catherine--she's such a tiny ball of sunshine. Every morning she
+used to come and wake me, and say, 'Come, daddy, come to breaf-crust!'
+She couldn't pronounce the word right--I hope she never will. She called
+the little dog I gave her a fox 'terrial' dog. Some people say children
+are all alike. If they could only see _her_--if she's still alive. Why
+_I_ wouldn't give ten cents to live if I could only make sure Edith
+would have enough to get along on and give Catherine a decent education.
+I want that girl to grow up into a fine noble woman like her mother. And
+to think the last time I saw her she was lying in a stuffy hall bedroom
+in a third-class lodging house, her little forehead burning with fever,
+with my poor sick wife stretched beside her, fearing to move lest she
+should wake the child. She may be dead by this time, for I've had no
+work for three days, and I've been able to send them nothing--nothing!
+They may have been turned out into the streets, for the board bill was a
+week overdue when I left them. Don't you see it drives me nearly mad?
+I'm worse off a thousand times than if I stayed there with them.
+Sometimes I think there can't be any God, for if there was He'd never
+let me suffer so. And all for a little money--just because I can't pay
+the fare back to my sick wife and dying baby--my poor, sweet, little
+baby!"
+
+McCartney's voice broke and he buried his haggard face on his arms. For
+a moment or two neither spoke, then the deacon sighed deeply.
+
+"You do seem to have had hard luck," he remarked awkwardly. McCartney
+was still too overcome with emotion to reply.
+
+"I reckon I'll have to break my rule and help you without references. I
+don't believe in giving, as a rule, unless you know who you are giving
+to."
+
+He put his hand in his pocket.
+
+"But I'll do it this time." He placed two quarters upon the table.
+
+"There, half a dollar'll keep you nicely for a while. Of course, there's
+no use sendin' money to Rochester. Your landlady can't turn sick folks
+into the street, and if she does they can go to the hospital----"
+
+He paused, startled by the look on McCartney's face, for the latter had
+risen like an avenging angel, white and trembling. Pointing at the two
+harmless coins, he cried:
+
+"Is that your answer to the appeal of a starving man? Is that all your
+religion has done for you? Is that how you obey your Lord's teachings?
+'Cup of cold water' indeed! Cold water! Cold water! That's what you've
+got instead of blood; you withered old epidermis! You miserable,
+dried-up apology for a human being!" He paused for breath, sweeping the
+room with indignant scorn.
+
+"I know your kind! You old Christian Shylock! You bought those chromos
+at an auction! You took that old sideboard for a debt--yes, a debt at
+eighteen per cent interest. You don't pay a cent of taxes. You sing
+psalms and bag your trousers with kneeling on the platforms at prayer
+meetings and then loan out the church's money to yourself on worthless
+securities. You're too mean to keep a cat, for the cost of her milk. You
+read a penny newspaper and take books out of a circulating library. You
+put a petticoat on these chairs so your miserly little body won't wear
+out the seats."
+
+The lean vagabond half shouted his anathema, the pallor of his face and
+brow darkening red from the violence of his passion. It was the very
+ecstasy of anger. Before it the little man with the white hair shrank
+into himself, diminishing into his chair, seeking moral opportunity of
+escape.
+
+McCartney looked at the two coins contemptuously.
+
+"Bah!" he exclaimed in disgust. "Half a dollar for a dying child and a
+starving woman, to say nothing of a shelterless man!" He broke into a
+mirthless laugh. "Allow me to return your generous answer to my
+application for assistance. A code of morals of my own, which doubtless
+you would not appreciate, compels me to restore what is obviously ten
+times more precious to the donor than to the recipient."
+
+He filliped the two coins across the table into the lap of his host, who
+still crouched furtively with his head near the table.
+
+"It makes me sick to look at you! Who could gaze without disgust upon
+the spectacle of an ossified creature like yourself, creeping through
+bare, deserted old age toward a grave mortgaged to the devil? Ugh! It is
+the horridest spectacle I have seen in a month."
+
+"You're mad!" muttered the old man with hoarse fearfulness.
+
+"Sometimes, but not now!" retorted McCartney. "I'll hold my evening
+session for Misers a moment longer. I pity you, Lord Pinhead Penurious!
+I pity you that you should have gone through life, a small term of say
+sixty years, in such stupidity. Sixty years of grubbing, of weighing
+meat and adding figures, of watching the prices fools pay for stocks,
+and how many days of _life_? How many good deeds? Oh, marvelous lack of
+wit! What know you of real happiness? Let me introduce myself, since
+you're so blind. What do you think I am, my good old Noddy Numbskull?"
+
+"Crazy!" gasped the old man. "Do be quiet! Let me get you something more
+to eat."
+
+"A thief, at your service. Oh, don't start! I'll not carry away your
+mahogany sideboard nor your bronze chandelier. I steal only to keep
+myself in purse--to eat. You dig to add to the column of figures in your
+pass book. I walk among the gods. My brain is worth twenty gray bags
+like yours. I have thoughts and dreams in terms to you unintelligible. I
+can live more in a week than haply you have done in the course of your
+whole crawling existence. What do you know of the spirit? Behind your
+altar sits a calf of gold. You grovel before it and slip out at the
+bottom the shekels you drop in at the top. To you the moon will always
+be made of green cheese, that 'orbed maiden with white fire laden'! Your
+hands are callous from counting money, your brain is----"
+
+The old fellow arose. "Leave my house! Get out of here!"
+
+He was an absurd figure, not more than five feet high, in his black
+broadcloth suit and string tie, as he faced McCartney's blazing eyes,
+and the latter laughed at him.
+
+"I will fast enough. But you see I'm having a sensation--_living_. I'm
+doing good. Oh, yes, I am. If not to you, at least to myself. Do you
+think I'll ever forget little 'Cathie'? God! How I could have loved a
+real child! And I've only a cat." He laughed again. "I don't blame you
+for thinking me crazy--even you. Come, now, wasn't my picture of the
+phthisic wife and moaning child worth a place on the line--I mean,
+wasn't it good, eh? Worth more than two beggarly quarters? It gave me a
+thrill--what I need--it'll keep me alive for another twenty-four hours,
+without this." He held up a nickel-plated hypodermic syringe. It shone
+in the gaslight, and the old man started back and held out his hands.
+
+"Don't shoot!" he cried in senile terror.
+
+"Carrion!" cried McCartney. "Why do I waste my time on you? Why? Because
+I'm in your debt. I owe you little Catherine. I shall never forget her.
+And you, you--you are her foster father! God forbid!"
+
+The old man sat down resignedly at the extreme side of the table.
+
+"By God, I pity you!" exclaimed the lean man. "Do you hear that? _I_
+pity _you_--_I_!--a wretched, drugged, wilted, useless bundle of nerves
+twisted into the image of a man; a chap born with a silver spoon, with
+gifts, who tossed them all into the gutter--threw 'a pearl away richer
+than all his tribe'; a miserable creature who can't live without this"
+(he pressed the needles into his wrist), "and yet I wouldn't change with
+you! I'm more of a man than you. My very wants are sweeter than any joys
+your brutish senses can ever feel.
+
+    "O would there were a heaven to hear!
+    O would there were a hell to fear!
+    Dear Son of God, in mercy give
+    My soul to flames, but let me live!
+
+"You don't know what that means! Haven't the vaguest idea. You're a
+mummy. You'll be the same ten thousand years from now. I suppose you
+think I made it up, eh?
+
+    "I am discouraged by the street,
+    The pacing of monotonous feet.
+
+"That's all _you_ want. You couldn't understand anything else, and yet
+it's my torture, and my salvation!"
+
+The glow came back into McCartney's eyes and he repeated:
+
+"Yes, that picture of little Catherine was worth more than two quarters.
+It ought to have been good for twenty dollars. It's worth more than that
+to me."
+
+McCartney's voice had grown strong and clear.
+
+The old fellow looked at him sharply and changed his tone. He must get
+this madman out of his house. He must humor him.
+
+"Come, come, that's all right. Cheer up! Why, I had a little girl of my
+own once."
+
+McCartney pierced him through and through with swimming eyes.
+
+"And her memory was only worth two miserable quarters? You lie, you
+wretched old man, you lie!"
+
+The old fellow started back. The door banged. McCartney was gone.
+
+
+
+
+THE MAN HUNT
+
+
+I
+
+
+      _Note._--Action takes place about the year 1915.
+
+Ralston strode briskly up Fifth Avenue, conscious all about him of the
+electric pressure of War. It was six o'clock--the hour when the hard
+outlines of the tops of office buildings and the prosaic steeples of
+contemporary religion, flushed with rose, and "fretted with golden
+fire," melt with a glow of unreality into the darkening blue. Here and
+there in the eastern sky tiny points trembled elusively, and a molten
+crescent followed him along the housetops, its pale disk growing each
+instant brighter.
+
+Wheel traffic on the avenue, between the hours of nine and seven, had
+been suspended, and many pedestrians preferred the icy inequality of the
+street to the crowds upon the pavements. For the most part the movement
+was northward, meeting at the corners transverse streams of clerks and
+salesgirls jostling one another, arm in arm, down the side streets. Here
+and there could be seen an officer in service coat, with sword dangling
+beneath, and occasional knots of soldier boys in the uniform of the
+National Guard.
+
+A little lad with an air of vast importance ran just ahead of Ralston,
+unlocking the bases of the electric lights and, in some mysterious way,
+turning them on. To his intense gratification he had succeeded in
+distancing his fellow across the way by half a block. Above the shuffle
+of feet could be heard the cries of the newsmen, "Extra! Extra!
+President calls for twenty new regiments! Latest extra! Twelfth to the
+front." These, clutching huge bundles of papers to their breasts, hurled
+themselves against the tide of humanity, appearing from all directions
+and sweeping down like vultures upon any individual wayfarer so
+unfortunate as to have his hand momentarily in his pocket. Their bundles
+quickly disappeared. Then they would run panting to the corners where
+the paper wagons were in waiting. It was a scene full of inspiration to
+Ralston, but it impressed him that, after all, the crowd seemed
+primarily interested in its own affairs--its business, its cold ears,
+its suppers.
+
+For the newspapers the war had created a fierce, insatiable public maw.
+Circulations sprang by leaps into the millions. Extras followed one
+another by minutes. For the people in the shops it meant night work and
+longer hours; for society, something new to talk about; for the
+theaters, packed houses which roared at topical songs in which "war"
+rhymed with "bore," "rations" with "nations," "company" with "bump any,"
+"foes" with "toes," "sword" with "board," and gloried in "Eddie" Foy and
+"Jo" Weber dressed as major generals. "Light Cavalry" and "Dixie" had
+superseded all other selections upon the musical programmes, and special
+rows of seats were reserved for "officers in uniform." The bars were
+jammed, traveling men sat in more thickly serried ranks than usual in
+the hotel windows, and Slosson's Billiard Parlors were lined with
+standing spectators. The commercial life of the city boiled over. Only
+the brokers came home early.
+
+As Ralston entered Madison Square he found himself entangled in a dense
+throng wedged around an improvised scaffolding, upon which was displayed
+the electric-lighted bulletin of one of the big dailies. A man in a
+yellow-and-black-striped sweater was rapidly painting with a brush upon
+a blackboard in some white liquid the latest marching orders:
+
+     "_Twelfth Regiment leaves via Penn. R. R. to-morrow 7 A.M._"
+
+     "_Terrible Riots in Tokio._"
+
+     "_R. W. Ralston appointed Second Assistant Secretary of
+     the Navy._"
+
+As he fought his way through the crush he heard his name repeated on all
+sides, and a strange exaltation took possession of him. He had a curious
+desire to call out: "Yes. I'm Ralston! The Ralston up there! I'm he!
+That one! I'm Ralston!"
+
+He felt like a prince suddenly called from seclusion to rule his people.
+He was going to do things which these garlic-breathing folk would spell
+out and marvel at. How often his name would flash across the square or
+play duskily upon the curtains at the theaters, linked with generals and
+"fighting" admirals. He laughed with the joy of it, that he, the
+settled-down man of the world, the hunter, the manager of estates, the
+student of literature, the lover of poetry, was going to play the
+popular hero.
+
+He broke through the outer ring of the crowd and made for the park. A
+huge flag draped the porch of the Fifth Avenue Hotel. The flush in the
+west had faded to a streaky white and the stars had sprung from behind
+their curtains. A white beam of light played steadily from the tower of
+the Garden into the north. When it should swing to the south actual
+hostilities would have commenced. All the windows in the office
+buildings gleamed with activity. As he looked back he could see the man
+in the sweater erasing his name with a sponge, and his heart sank with
+momentary disappointment. Some new thing was coming over the wires hot
+with the fire of war. At the same moment he heard up the avenue the
+faint tapping of drums and the shriek of the fifes.
+
+A line of mounted police burst into the square. The throng in front of
+the bulletin board surged over to the park. Then with a clash of cymbals
+and a prolonged rattle from the drums a full band burst into "There'll
+be a Hot Time in the Old Town To-night." The regimental flags came into
+view. In the light of the stars, in the dying of the day, in the moment
+of his exaltation, Ralston recognized the colors of his old regiment.
+Had he chosen he might have been marching at the head of his company
+even then. The crowd, cheering, forced him to the curb and into the
+street. With brimming eyes he doffed his hat and saluted the colors.
+
+As he did so a sudden wild yell went up from the multitude. From one
+side of the square to the other reigned pandemonium. The very sound of
+the band was drowned in the uproar. From the top of the Flatiron
+Building a stream of rockets broke into the sky, and with a single
+movement the throng turned and gazed tensely at the Garden Tower, as the
+white shaft of light slowly swung into the south.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+The little white house on East Twenty-fifth Street was ablaze with light
+as Ralston eagerly mounted the low stoop and pressed the bell. The
+visitor knocked the slush from his overshoes, slapped the left pocket of
+his coat as if to make certain that something was still safely there,
+stepped quickly across the threshold when the butler opened the door,
+handed the man his hat, threw off his fur coat upon an ebony chair, and
+only paused, and that but for a moment, at the entrance of the
+drawing-room. He was a tall, clean-built, brisk young man, thoroughly
+American in type, with an alert face, which, if not handsome, was
+nevertheless agreeable and attractive--a man, in a word, whom one would
+not hesitate to address upon the street, provided the question was
+pertinent and the information essential.
+
+It was clear from his manner that he was no stranger, but to-day there
+were more women than usual at Miss Evarts's Monday afternoon, and the
+lights and chatter seemed a bit confusing to one whose mind was charged
+with the importance of a newly acquired responsibility. Miss Evarts was
+an old friend of his mother's, who, somewhat to his amused annoyance,
+took it upon herself to assume toward him a sort of sisterly attitude,
+which allowed her the privileges of relationship without prejudice to a
+certain degree of elderly sentiment. Attendance upon her selectly
+Bohemian gatherings was a duty which he performed when in town, with a
+regularity attributable less to a regard for Miss Evarts herself than to
+the fact that Ellen Ferguson was usually to be found there presiding
+over the tea table and ready for a brisk walk uptown afterwards.
+
+"Ha! There he is now!" exclaimed a middle-aged man, with iron-gray hair
+and pointed mustaches, as the newcomer parted the _portières_.
+
+The group about the warrior turned with one accord and stared, at
+present teacups, in his direction.
+
+"Good afternoon, ladies and soldier," said Ralston. "I am the
+torchbearer of war. Firing has begun. The searchlight on the Garden is
+leveled south--like the lance of the horseman on the tower in Irving's
+'Legend of the Arabian Astrologer.'"
+
+The colonel set down his cup and pulled his mustaches with a heavy
+frown. He took pains to let it be seen that he was overcome with
+conflicting emotions--that stern duty summoned him from home and dear
+ones, but that his heart was throbbing to avenge his country's honor.
+They all looked toward him as if expecting a few appropriate remarks.
+The colonel's hands trembled, the veins upon his forehead swelled, and
+he seemed about to speak. Then he did.
+
+"You don't say!" he remarked.
+
+There was a sigh of disappointment from the ladies, and in the hiatus
+which followed Miss Evarts shook hands with Ralston and introduced him
+to the others as "the newly appointed secretary, you know." Which, or
+what of, she did not disclose.
+
+"I always thought Ralston was cast for a topliner," continued the
+hostess, as he modestly evaded their congratulations.
+
+"It's about time I left the chorus," answered her guest, adapting his
+language to Miss Evarts's open predilection for the footlights.
+
+"Kicked your way up?" inquired, in a hoarse voice, a stout lady of stage
+traditions, who was clad in a wall-paper effect of gay brocade.
+
+"My dear Mrs. Vokes, don't judge everybody by your own professional
+experience," remarked a young lady in brown, whose aquiline features
+were accounted "perfectly lovely" by a large suburban, theater-going
+public.
+
+"Come! Come!" interrupted Miss Evarts loudly. "Miss Warren, order
+yourself more humbly before your betters."
+
+The two popular favorites glared at one another defiantly.
+
+"Well, in any event, Colonel Duer, he'll soon be giving you your sealed
+orders," said Miss Evarts, thus disposing of a situation which might
+have become awkward.
+
+"Not unless the colonel gets a transfer. I'm steering the navy, not the
+army," laughed Ralston.
+
+"The man behind!" murmured Mrs. Vokes.
+
+Ralston bowed. "Very good, Mrs. Vokes," said he. "Yes, too far behind!"
+
+"The navy, of course," Miss Evarts corrected herself, letting fall a
+lump of sugar and following it with an attenuated rivulet of cream.
+"Just a drop, as usual?"
+
+"Did you read the President's proclamation?" asked a young girl in a
+gray picture hat. "Wasn't it splendid?"
+
+"Mr. Ralston will probably write the next one," interjected another.
+
+"No, only correct the proof," amended the hostess.
+
+"And point it with 'Maxims'?" ventured the Vokes, now restored to
+complete good humor.
+
+"Very sweet of you, Mrs. Vokes," said Ralston, recognizing the
+artificial dove of theatrical peace.
+
+"You leave very soon, don't you, colonel?" asked Miss Evarts. "Is your
+kit-bag ready?"
+
+"Yes, we leave by the Pennsylvania, at seven o'clock. The armory's a
+perfect bedlam. It looks as if every man in New York had collected all
+his worldly goods and chattels and dumped them on the tan bark," replied
+the colonel.
+
+"The confusion must be something delightful. I suppose you have plenty
+of canned peaches?" inquired the brown girl innocently. "I understand
+that they are the staple food of heroes."
+
+"They're certainly an indispensable stage property," admitted the
+colonel with something of an effort, recalling various evaporated
+valiants of the Cuban campaign.
+
+During this profound discussion Ralston's eyes had been wandering from
+group to group, and at this moment the object of their search herself
+joined the party upon the other side of the table.
+
+"Have another cup of tea, Ellen," urged Miss Evarts.
+
+"I can't, positively, Aunt Bess," responded the girl; "I must go
+presently."
+
+"How are things?" said the girl in brown, looking significantly at the
+colonel. "Have all your officers turned up?"
+
+"Ye-es," he replied. "Constructively."
+
+"Constructively?" persisted his inquisitor. "What a queer way to be
+present! Rather bad for an officer in a swell regiment to be dilatory,
+isn't it?"
+
+"Every man has shown up," replied the rather nettled veteran, "except
+one, and he'll be along, all right."
+
+"Oh, of course!" murmured the girl. "By the way, have you seen John
+Steadman? My cousin Fred, you know, is an officer in the same company,
+and he said last night at dinner that he hadn't seen him at the armory.
+Some one was mean enough to suggest that these ferocious military men
+aren't always 'warlike.'"
+
+"There are no tin soldiers in my regiment," answered the colonel
+severely, turning for reënforcement to Mrs. Vokes.
+
+Ellen Ferguson bit her lip, flashed a glance at the girl in brown and
+pulling her chinchilla boa into place departed with her nose in the air
+toward the next room. She paused for a moment to read the faded
+inscription, framed and hanging beneath an old cavalry saber on the
+opposite wall, then turning toward Ralston, raised her eyebrows
+inquiringly as if to ask how long he was going to occupy himself with
+fat old ladies and cheap actresses, and vanished. But the brown girl
+turned her guns on Ralston again before he could get away.
+
+"I didn't know you had any drag at Washington," she remarked. "Who have
+you got on your staff--a senator or just a common garden M.C.?"
+
+"Neither," he answered politely. "I don't know either of our senators,
+and I couldn't name a single congressman from the State."
+
+"And then you have been away so long," added Miss Evarts. "Why, it's
+eight months, isn't it? If you ever had any pull I should think it would
+have faded away long ago."
+
+"I was certainly the most surprised of all," said Ralston. "I haven't a
+blessed qualification for the job. I suppose the fact that I've just
+come from the Philippines and have seen something of the Asiatic
+Squadron may have had a little to do with it."
+
+"For the navy as against the army, perhaps," said the brown girl. "But
+it doesn't explain your getting an appointment in the first place. You
+must be a politician in sheep's clothing."
+
+"Well, to be perfectly frank," answered Ralston, seeing that he was in
+for it, "a year ago last September, when I was shooting out at Jackson's
+Hole, I ran across the President and saw something of him for a week or
+so. I was able to help him in a matter of no importance, and you know he
+isn't the kind that forgets anything. He's a good fellow!"
+
+"Just like him," commented the young lady. "Now, why didn't he give it
+to my brother George, who got nervous prostration making stump speeches
+for him at the last election?"
+
+"Oh, I admit it's entirely undeserved, but I must plead guilty to being
+glad of a branch office in the White House and of a chance to be one of
+the boys in the conning tower," answered Ralston.
+
+"Well, you're only an assistant secretary, anyway," said the girl. "I'm
+green with jealousy as it is. But aren't you sorry not to be going with
+your old company?"
+
+"Don't!" he exclaimed. "You make me feel as if I belonged to the Home
+Guard. Honestly, I'd rather be back with the regiment, but, you see, I
+had served my five years ages before you were born. I ought to give the
+younger fellows a chance."
+
+"I see," said the girl. "When do you go?"
+
+"To-morrow morning at ten. I reach Washington in time to dine at the
+White House."
+
+Several of the women arose and the group about the table gradually
+drifted away. The crowd was thinning out. Ralston, knowing very well
+that Ellen would be waiting for him, mumbled something to Miss Evarts
+and escaped.
+
+"Well!" he exclaimed, entering the other room, and seizing her hands as
+she stood with her back to the fire. "Pretty good, isn't it?"
+
+"I should say it was!" she cried delightedly. "Why, Dick, it's the
+chance of your life. If you make good only a little bit you may get
+anywhere. It's perfectly splendid! I'm so glad!"
+
+Genuine pleasure shone in her eyes. Ralston's heart beat faster. Of
+course she cared for him. She must care for him. There was a tide in the
+affairs of men which, taken at the flood-- He stepped closer and bent
+his head toward hers.
+
+"Nell--" he began.
+
+But she apparently was not listening, and the glad look had quickly
+given place to another. He paused, wondering at the change. Her dark
+eyes, with their Oriental, upturned corners, were half veiled and her
+high-arched brows were contracted in a frown. He drew back and pulled
+out his cigarette case.
+
+"Dick," she cried suddenly, "I want to tell you something! I'm sorry to
+bother you when you're so happy, and I'm so proud of you, but I'm
+terribly worried about something."
+
+"Dear! Dear!" laughed Ralston, striking a match and seeing that his
+opportunity had somehow vanished. "What's up? Been losing at bridge?"
+
+She smiled faintly.
+
+"Don't make fun of me," she replied. "No, I'm really bothered." She put
+her hand to her forehead and pushed back her hair. "I'm afraid one of my
+friends isn't-- Oh, I don't know how to explain it!"
+
+A momentary suspicion flashed across his mind.
+
+"Do you think I ought to go to the front?" he asked, relieved.
+
+She gave a little laugh.
+
+"You? What a goose! Of course not!"
+
+Ralston experienced a shock of disappointment.
+
+"What is it, then?"
+
+"Dick," said she in quick, subdued tones, "I can't help speaking about
+it, and you're the best friend I've got. It's about John."
+
+Ralston moved uneasily.
+
+"John Steadman?"
+
+"We're old friends, you know."
+
+"Yes, I remember."
+
+"I don't suppose you've seen him?"
+
+"Not since I came back. Before that, often."
+
+Ellen again passed her hand wearily across her forehead and turned
+abruptly away from the fire. The action was unconscious, involuntary. He
+had never associated Ellen with Steadman.
+
+"What is it?" he asked sympathetically.
+
+"Oh, nothing definite. Only he's been a little irregular of late. I
+haven't seen him for over a week. I don't think anybody has."
+
+"He's a captain in the Twelfth, isn't he?"
+
+"Yes. O Dick! You heard what that spiteful Warren girl said about tin
+soldiers?"
+
+"Of course. Nonsense!"
+
+"I can't help it. It's _Honor_, you know!"
+
+"You mean you think he mayn't turn up?"
+
+"I can't--I won't think that."
+
+"But he hasn't?--and they're beginning to talk?"
+
+"You heard for yourself."
+
+"Oh, _that_!"
+
+"Some people never live down less."
+
+"But if he does turn up, why there's an end to it," he said.
+
+"But why isn't he here?" she cried.
+
+"How do I know? He may be on a business trip."
+
+"Of course I thought of that," she replied.
+
+"Oh, he'll be there, all right, when the time comes."
+
+She began arranging her furs. One thing Ralston always admired about her
+was her care in dress. He did not know how few clothes she really had.
+She seemed always elegantly, if not luxuriously, clad.
+
+They strolled slowly toward the door.
+
+"Well," he said, "I'm awfully sorry you're upset. I'm sure he'll turn up
+all right. A man couldn't afford not to. Don't worry. If there was
+anything that I could do, no matter what, you know I'd be glad to do it
+for your sake, Ellen."
+
+"Thank you, Dick. I know that," she answered.
+
+"Well, good-by," said he. "Say good night to Miss Evarts for me, will
+you? I've got to run. I'm late for dinner as it is."
+
+She gave him her hand and he held it for a moment. As he did so he
+looked her full in the face.
+
+"Ellen," said he, "tell me something. Do you care about--Steadman?"
+
+She turned her head slightly from him before replying. Then she looked
+back again and answered hesitatingly:
+
+"I think--I care."
+
+As she spoke the words she withdrew her hand. Then she flushed and her
+eyes brightened.
+
+"Dick," she said slowly, in a voice that trembled a little, "I _know_ I
+care."
+
+The _portières_ fell behind him. Mechanically he put on his overcoat and
+left the house, pausing for a moment at the top of the steps. A little
+smile hovered on his lips, but his eyes were very sad.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+Ralston walked as far as the Twenty-eighth Street subway station, where
+he caught a local for Forty-second Street. Thence he hurried to
+Delmonico's. It was now seven o'clock, and already the restaurant was
+nearly full.
+
+"Philip, have you seen Mr. Scott?" he asked of the doorman.
+
+"In the palm room, Mr. Ralston," answered the servant at once. "The head
+waiter told me to say that your dinner was ready."
+
+Ralston checked his coat, and soon caught sight of his newly engaged
+private secretary at a small table in a corner. They shook hands, and
+Scott pointed to a pile of letters and papers beside him.
+
+"This stuff came while you were out. I thought I'd better bring it along
+to save time."
+
+"Good!" commented Ralston. "What is most of it?"
+
+"Eight letters of congratulation, which I listed. A long letter from
+some old lady friend of yours when you were in Exeter----"
+
+"I know--Mrs. Gorringe."
+
+"Then that power of attorney from Bee, Single & Quick, that you
+expected. Oh, I don't know--a lot of circulars: 'Red Cross,' 'Special
+Relief,' 'Society for Assisting Wives and Children of Enlisted Men.'"
+
+"Send 'em twenty-five apiece."
+
+Mr. Scott took out his notebook and made an entry.
+
+"How about that power of attorney?"
+
+"It seemed all right. I don't know. We never had anything just like it
+in the law school."
+
+Ralston burst out laughing.
+
+"How old are you, Jim?"
+
+"Twenty-five."
+
+"Well, just wait ten years, and if you ever see a legal paper that looks
+like anything but a page out of Doomsday call my attention to it, will
+you?"
+
+"Well, it's got a seal, anyway."
+
+"How about those antelope heads from Livingston that were being
+mounted?"
+
+"Wilcox telephoned they'd be shipped to-morrow."
+
+By this time the soup had arrived, and both fell to with appetites born
+of a hard day's labor. The waiters were apparently serving "extras" with
+every course, and more than half the men at the tables were in uniform.
+Flags hung everywhere, and at each plate a _papier-maché_ cannon held
+the customary bonbons. In the extreme eastern corner the Hungarians were
+playing "Dixie," "Old Kentucky Home," "Maryland," "Star-Spangled
+Banner," "Suwanee River," "A Hot Time," and other patriotic airs, one
+after the other, the conclusion of each being marked by loud applause
+from all sides.
+
+"Isn't it great!" exclaimed Scott. "You know my governor thinks my going
+down with you is out of sight. He'd hate to have me enlist. Of course,
+I'd rather really, but in the long run I fancy there'll be more doin'
+right in Washington."
+
+"You'll be busy, all right," said Ralston. "Has Thompson packed all the
+trunks?"
+
+"Sure; ages ago."
+
+"And did you buy the tickets?"
+
+Scott produced the tickets with obvious pride.
+
+"Well, you're satisfactory so far. By the way, what are you going to do
+to-night?"
+
+"Mrs. Patterson's theater party--'The Martial Maid.'"
+
+"And you skipped the dinner?"
+
+"To dine with my chief. Orders, you know. Duty before pleasure."
+
+"Good boy!" said Ralston. "How did you fix it?"
+
+"Why, I spoke to Ellen and she managed it for me. Of course, if it was
+for you anything would go with her. Isn't she a stunner?"
+
+"You spoke to Ellen, did you? Well, you have a confidence born of your
+newly acquired elevation. I saw her at Miss Evarts's this afternoon. She
+didn't mention you, however."
+
+"Do you know a fellow named Steadman?" continued Scott. "Good-looking
+chap, but a 'weak sister,' I think."
+
+"Yes, I know him. Why?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. He's around with her a good deal."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, I hate to see a girl like that throw herself away, that's all,"
+burst out the secretary with energy.
+
+"Why, Steadman used to be a decent fellow enough," said Ralston,
+thinking rapidly. "Anything the matter with him that you know of?"
+
+"He bats an awful lot."
+
+"Something new?"
+
+"Yes; within six months. Uncle died and left him a lot of loose change.
+He's been blowing it in."
+
+"How? Of course, it's on the quiet?"
+
+"Oh, yes! He's at church every Sunday."
+
+"Yesterday?"
+
+"No. I meant metaphorically."
+
+By eight o'clock dinner had been entirely served, and Scott had received
+all his instructions.
+
+"Guess I'll step over to the Pattersons' now for a short cigar," he
+remarked, "and pick up the crowd. See you to-morrow at eight-thirty."
+
+"Good night. Have a good time," called Ralston after him, as the
+youthful figure passed out. He was very fond of Scott. He wondered if
+what the boy had said about Steadman was true. A fellow could go down a
+lot in six months, or in less. Steadman had always had a weakness.
+Ralston had never liked him, though forced to be in his company on many
+occasions.
+
+"I'll smoke at the room," he thought, and paid his bill. "I'm going off
+to Washington, William, so I'd better settle," he remarked to the old
+waiter.
+
+From Delmonico's he crossed the avenue, walked north for two blocks, and
+turned into his rooms, which were situated in a small, new bachelor
+apartment house. He found everything in confusion and Thompson hard at
+work packing books.
+
+He shed his frock coat for a smoking jacket, and took his seat at a low
+desk with a drop light, having brought his letters with him from the
+restaurant. First he rapidly answered his notes of congratulation,
+following a set form, then hastily read the power of attorney from his
+lawyers, and signed it, after which he O. K.'d a pile of bills, gave
+some instructions to Thompson about his library, wrote a long letter to
+his mother, who was spending the winter in Italy, then took up the
+letter from the "old lady in Exeter," and threw himself back into a
+chair before the fire.
+
+It was eighteen years since he had seen her, the woman who had kept the
+boarding house in which he had lived at school--who had mended his
+clothes, lent him small sums of money, brought him his meals when sick,
+served him for a temporary mother, lied for him when necessary, and been
+rewarded with the real affection of her young lodger. This was the first
+letter she had ever written him. In the left-hand corner of the white,
+blue-lined paper was an embossed reproduction of the State House in
+Boston, and the shaking penmanship filled every inch of space and ran
+back to the front page again.
+
+      EXETER, March 5, 19--.
+
+      DEAR RICHARD
+
+      You must forgive an old woman calling you Richard, who
+      worked so hard for you when you was a boy. You must be
+      quite a man by this time to be made Secretary of the
+      Navy as I was told by Deacon Stillwater. I am proud of
+      you, Richard, and so is everybody here, that one of my
+      boys should rise so high, whom I never thought of
+      except throwing apples at Mrs. Abbott's goat and
+      playing baseball in the middle of the street. I was
+      hoping to hear from you that you had married some
+      lovely young lady in New York. Don't put it off too
+      long. If you are not going to fight you would not even
+      have to wait until after the war. I am glad you are
+      not going to fight and yet will serve the country.
+      Think how long it is since I lost my dear husband at
+      Antietam--nearly fifty years. I am an old woman,
+      Richard, and shall not live long. I am going to leave
+      you my chest of drawers with brass handles you used to
+      like--you remember you used to keep chestnuts in the
+      bottom. Be a good boy. If you can spare the time from
+      your duties I shall be pleased to hear from you.
+
+      Your old friend,
+
+      SARAH GORRINGE.
+
+"Dear old soul!" he sighed, staring into the fire. "What a brute I am
+never to have written to her after all she did for me. The good woman's
+reward!"
+
+For nearly a half hour he sat thinking of his life at Exeter and of the
+changes time had wrought in his existence. Then he arose, carefully
+selected some writing materials, and wrote for some time without
+finishing his letter. Once he got up, crossed to the fire and studied
+for several minutes a photograph which stood on the mantel, after which
+he took a few strides around the room and returned to his task.
+
+Twenty minutes later he laid down his pen, and taking the pile of
+manuscript in his lap read it over carefully. The last paragraph he
+reread several times. Then he placed the whole thing in an envelope and
+addressed it--to Exeter, New Hampshire. The little clock on the mantel
+pointed to half-past nine as he took off his smoking jacket and called
+for his coat and hat. He was tired--very tired--but something made him
+restless.
+
+"I'm going to the club for a while," he said to his valet. "I'll be back
+in half an hour. Call a hansom."
+
+He waited with his back to the fire, still smoking.
+
+"Second Assistant Secretary to the Navy!" he muttered. "Not bad for
+thirty-four! . . . But what does it amount to? . . . What does anything
+amount to? . . . Who really cares? . . . It's like making the 'varsity
+or your senior society. . . . You always think there's some one--or that
+there may be some one . . ."
+
+"Cab's here, sir," said his man.
+
+Ralston gathered up the mail and started down the stairs. At the curb
+stood a hansom, the driver cloaked in a heavy waterproof. A fine rain
+had begun to fall, making the light from a nearby street lamp seem dim
+and uncertain. As Ralston stepped toward the lamp-post to mail his
+letters he observed a diminutive messenger boy vainly trying to decipher
+the address upon a telegram, which he was holding to the light. Ralston
+pushed the letters into the box and closed it with a slam.
+
+"Does Mr. Ralston live here?" asked the boy.
+
+"Right here!" answered Ralston, holding out his hand.
+
+"Please sign."
+
+He scrawled an apology for a signature upon the damp page of the book
+and tore the end off the envelope. Then, like the boy, he held the
+yellow paper to the light. It bore but nine words:
+
+      Please try to find John for my sake.--E.
+
+He read the words several times and repeated them aloud, as if in doubt
+as to their meaning. "Find Steadman!" Where? Find him! How? Why? . . .
+
+The messenger boy had started away, whistling shrilly "Marching Through
+Georgia." Ralston wrinkled his forehead. Here was irony of Fate for you!
+She called upon him to save the honor of this man, whom he hardly knew,
+for whom he cared not a whit, whom by this time he had begun to hate, to
+save him--for her. He stood motionless in the rain, the telegram hanging
+limply from his fingers. He had not seen Steadman for nine months. Knew
+practically nothing of him except from clubroom gossip. And Ellen asked
+him to find the man for her, in the seething life of the city--find him
+in such a way that, wherever found, his honor would be safe, find him
+secretly, surely, and place him upon his feet at the head of his company
+before the next morning at seven o'clock. He crumpled the paper into
+his pocket and turned to the waiting driver.
+
+"Just drive down the avenue slowly."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+He climbed in and threw himself back upon the seat.
+
+"Something of a large order, my dear young lady," he muttered. "If your
+attractive friend is to be found, it must be done without publicity. It
+would be a great deal worse to find him where he ought not to be, than
+not to find him at all. There are many cycles in New York's Inferno. If
+it were not for that, my old friend Inspector Donahue could send out a
+general alarm and turn him up before daylight. But that won't--no, that
+won't do. He's got to be located on the quiet and put into shape to
+march respectably off with his company.
+
+"By George!" he exclaimed aloud, "only a woman would think of asking a
+chap to set out on such a wild-goose chase! But then I don't suppose she
+realizes. She thinks he's playing billiards at the club, or something
+like that, maybe!" He set his teeth.
+
+"If she only knew!" he muttered. "Why didn't I speak a little sooner!"
+
+"She _thought_ she cared. . . . She _knew_ she cared!" he whispered to
+himself. Then he laughed rather grimly.
+
+And one who had happened to glance into the cab at that moment, as it
+passed a lamp, would have seen the gaunt face of a man smiling behind
+the tip of a cigar. Farther down the avenue another would have seen the
+same face without the cigar--without the smile.
+
+"Jerry's!" said Ralston sharply, through the manhole.
+
+The driver jerked the reins, wheeled his horse round abruptly, and
+started on a brisk trot through Forty-fourth Street. Then turning
+quickly down Sixth Avenue, he brought the hansom to a sudden stop in
+front of a restaurant whose electric lights flared valiantly into the
+rain and mist.
+
+There were three doors, but Ralston, without pausing, passed into the
+hostelry through the middle one. The cabman waited without orders, well
+aware that those who frequent Jerry's presumably desire the means of
+transportation therefrom. A bar ranged opposite an oyster counter gave a
+narrow passage to the dining room. At the end of the bar was a cashier's
+desk.
+
+The after-theater crowd had not yet arrived, it was too late for dinner
+guests, and few tables were occupied. Ralston, however, had not expected
+to find Steadman there. As he reached the desk a well-built, red-cheeked
+Irishman stepped forward.
+
+"How are you, Mr. Ralston? Congratulations!"
+
+Our friend grasped the hand of the other cordially.
+
+"How are you, Jerry?"
+
+"You're a bit of a stranger."
+
+"Yes. Something like a year. Been out looking over the Philippines."
+
+"Not so good as the little old place?"
+
+"I should say not. By the way, sit down over here a minute. I want to
+speak with you."
+
+Jerry led the way to the rear of the restaurant and offered Ralston a
+chair. Then he drew up across the table, while the latter put him a few
+brief questions.
+
+"Well, that's what I wanted," said Ralston, as they arose. "Yes, I
+remember now, he used to know her. I'll try it!"
+
+"I'm afraid it's the only tip I can give you, Mr. Ralston."
+
+"Thank you very much, Jerry. Remember, now. I haven't seen you--no
+matter what happens."
+
+"Not a word!"
+
+"Good night."
+
+"Good night, sir."
+
+Ralston crossed the sidewalk and sprang into the cab.
+
+"The Moonshine--stage," said he shortly.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+The party of which Ellen Ferguson was a member did not leave Sherry's
+until a comparatively late hour, and, while she was in no mood for
+gayety, anything which could fill the hours pending news of Steadman was
+a relief. She had found pleasure in talking to Jim Scott, that
+good-natured, immature, and loyal son of old Harvard, who had hardly
+opened his mouth the entire evening save in eulogy of his new chief.
+From the time they had left the house in the omnibus to the moment she
+had been deposited at her apartments he had not ceased his pæan of
+praise. Ralston was a "corker," a "crackajack," it was a great thing to
+be going to work with a man like that--a fellow who had done things, not
+one of your sit-in-the-club-window-and-have-a-little-drink style of
+chappies (this with a significant glance at a certain Mr. Teadle who
+made one of the party), but one who could use a rifle or write a book
+with equal skill.
+
+Mr. Teadle saw no particular reason for Ralston's appointment? Jim
+supposed sarcastically that the only proper candidate _would_ have been
+an absinthe-drinking scribbler of anæmic little poems. For a short time
+it looked as if Jim were going to utilize Mr. Teadle as a mop, until
+Ellen came to the rescue by entering into a violent flirtation with the
+new secretary, who furtively wondered if she really cared for that
+Steadman fellow, after all. Miss Ferguson, on her side, like the boy
+immensely, but did not stop to analyze her reasons. His freshness and
+enthusiasm were enough to account for the attraction.
+
+The Moonshine Theater had suggested a ludicrous parody of Brussels on
+the eve of Waterloo, and Scott had loudly regretted that his job did not
+carry a uniform with it. There were whole rows of them in the orchestra
+and the gallery. For a finale the chorus sang the "Star-Spangled
+Banner"--all up, of course, with the whole house cheering and waving
+hats and handkerchiefs. Tears were in Ellen's eyes as the party made
+their way out of the box, along the side of the house, to the entrance
+where the omnibus was waiting. They had piled in, and then, just as they
+had started--_Ralston!_
+
+How strange that she should cross him in this fashion at such an hour!
+Could he have received her message? Perhaps, even now, a yellow slip was
+lying beneath her door marked: "Party not found." But if not on her
+mission, what was he doing at the stage entrance of the Moonshine?
+
+All through the supper at Sherry's, with its martial airs, its patriotic
+ices and confections, its wine and laughter, she was tormented by
+uncertainty. If he had not received the message! Time was flying,
+Steadman was not being sought for, Ralston was--dallying.
+
+Her maid removed her cloak and helped her undo her dress.
+
+"Has anything come for me?"
+
+"No, miss."
+
+"Telephone to the Western Union office and ask if my telegram was
+delivered."
+
+The maid disappeared, returning presently with the information that it
+had been receipted for at nine-thirty o'clock. With a warm wave of
+relief flooding her heart Ellen slipped on a light wrapper, and threw
+herself into an armchair before the sea-coal fire.
+
+[Illustration: "She studied the faces alternately."]
+
+"You need not wait, Elise. I shall sit up and read."
+
+"Very well, miss. Good night."
+
+"Good night," answered her mistress dreamily.
+
+Outside the rain swept steadily against the glass with a soft, silting
+sound. From time to time drops fell down the chimney and hissed for a
+moment ere they vanished black splotches upon the vermilion coals.
+Behind her an electric lamp of bronze, with an opaque shade, threw a dim
+light over her shoulder and lit up the masses of her loosened hair.
+
+Presently she arose slowly and went into an adjoining room, returning
+with a large photograph in either hand. They were framed alike. Placing
+them side by side upon the rug before her, she locked her hands across
+her knee, and studied the faces alternately. One was of a young
+man--almost a boy--with a narrow, high-bred face, dark eyes, sallow,
+with a mouth curved like a woman's. The other was Dick Ralston, taken
+about five years before, although the high cheekbones, the gaunt energy,
+the mature thoughtfulness suggested a man much older. That she cared for
+Steadman there was no doubt in her own mind. Had she refused to admit it
+definitely heretofore, the fact that he was now on the verge of social
+and moral annihilation made it no longer a matter of question. She felt
+that Steadman's honor was at this moment the most vital thing in her
+existence. He had thrown it at her feet after a long and romantic
+wooing. Had laid bare his entire past. She was convinced that he loved
+her. But at the crucial moment she had hesitated, had not responded in
+quite the way she had probably given him reason to expect. She had
+asked for time for reflection, and could give no adequate explanation in
+answer to his imperative "Why?" When later he had renewed his suit she
+had again forced a postponement, and he had departed, annoyed and
+perplexed.
+
+It was at this juncture that the money had dropped into his hands and he
+had disappeared. Where was he? On a shooting trip? He frankly admitted
+caring nothing for sport or hunting. It was not the season for travel,
+and his name was not upon the sailing lists. Her instinct told her that
+somewhere in the great city Steadman, oblivious to the call of duty, was
+living the life from which her influence had called him for a time,
+reckless of consequences, disregardful of the beckoning finger of
+opportunity. She knew also that this was his last chance.
+
+She realized that she could never marry Steadman disgraced, yet she felt
+now that she loved him, and that could she see him and watch him start
+for the front with his regiment, she would promise him what he had
+asked.
+
+She took Ralston's picture in her hand and held it to the light. It
+trembled a little. She knew she could have cared for him--but he was so
+stern, so strong, so capable. He had never treated her save as a sort of
+younger sister. She had often wondered if he cared or could care for any
+woman. With her he was always the same--kindly, sympathetic, obliging,
+thoughtful. What must he think of her, sending him forth in the dead of
+night to search the city for a man whom he scarcely knew? Her cheeks
+burned at the thought of what she had done.
+
+She had hardly known what she was asking when she had sent the message.
+It had been done hurriedly, as she was leaving for the Pattersons', on
+the impulse of a moment when she felt that, unless John Steadman could
+be found, life would cease for her to be worth living--sent in a sort
+of hysteria in which she instinctively turned to the one man in all the
+world upon whom she could call for any service she might ask. Dear old
+Dick! How tired he had looked in the rain! He might be up all night
+looking for Steadman, and then not find him! And he was to leave for
+Washington to-morrow.
+
+She went to the window, against which the rain drove in a fine shower,
+blurring the myriad lights below her that marched in long, straight
+lines to north, south, and east. On the Tower the searchlight still
+burned steadily. She shivered and went back to the fire. Then she laid
+one of the pictures gently against her cheek.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+The Moonshine Theater blazes its defiance into the night from a gleaming
+Broadway promontory, whose cape divides the restless human tide that
+rises to its neap every evening about eleven and falls to its ebb in the
+neighborhood of two or three in the morning. Through its arched portals
+one might drive a hansom cab, and tradition says that the feat has been
+accomplished.
+
+Here Mrs. Vokes, under the alias of "Hélène DeLacy," first minced her
+way into popularity--but that was in the days of crinoline. The youths
+who loitered about its iron-bound stage entrance are gray-headed men
+to-day, those of them who are still alive. Only old Vincent remains, as
+rugged as a granite cliff, and as impervious to persuasion, bribery, or
+anger. "I'm sorry, gents, but it's against my orders," is said as
+conclusively to-night as it was twenty years ago. He got as far as:
+
+"I'm sorry, sir, but it's against--" then changed it to a wondering:
+"Bless my soul, Mr. Ralston! Is it you?" as he encountered the set face
+of our friend.
+
+"Why, Vincent," exclaimed the latter, "you still here? What luck! You
+don't look a day older!"
+
+"I can't say the same for you, sir. I understand congratulations are in
+order. Oh, I read the papers. But--" he hesitated.
+
+"But you think I'm rather old for 'Johnnying'?" interpolated Ralston.
+"You're quite right. I am. But don't be alarmed; this is business. I
+want to find a young woman named Ernestine Hudson. I must see her at
+once. Can you fix it for me?"
+
+"I think so," answered the guardian of the wings. "I'd do it if I lost
+my job. I won't forget in a hurry what you did for my little Bill. Just
+step----"
+
+At that instant the door was thrust violently open and a gray-coated
+messenger boy, carrying a large oblong box, projected himself violently
+against Vincent.
+
+"For Hudson!" he ejaculated shortly.
+
+"Put 'em on that desk," directed Vincent.
+
+"Say, boss, let me take 'em in," pleaded the boy.
+
+"Who do you think you are, anyway?" inquired the doorkeeper. "Get out of
+here."
+
+The boy lingered, gazing wistfully down the gas-lighted passage, through
+which floated the hum of the orchestra, confused by the shuffle of feet
+and inarticulate orders.
+
+Vincent took a threatening step in the direction of the boy, who made a
+grimace at him and backed slowly through the door. Ralston smiled and
+looked inquiringly at the box.
+
+"It might serve as an introduction," he suggested with a smile.
+
+"You don't need it," said Vincent. "I guess you remember the way. Just
+step down the passage, and you'll find the chorus ready to go on for the
+second act. Hudson's the wheel horse for the partridges. She has a bunch
+of tail sprouts like a feather duster. What fool things the public pay
+to see nowadays! Why, they ain't content to let a girl be a girl, but
+they have to turn her into a bird, or a dress form, or a wax figger, or
+an automobile, or a flower. Now take this show. It's supposed to be a
+kind of a 'flag-raiser.' 'Marchin' Through Georgy' and 'Campin'
+To-night' and all that, and the chorus is _birds_. Birds! Sparrers,
+canaries, and partridges!" he grunted scornfully. "Well, good luck. See
+you later."
+
+Ralston walked down the passage and pushed open the skeleton canvas door
+that separated him from the wings. The curtain was down, and a small
+army of men were noisily pulling enormous flies into place by means of
+pulleys. One group in the center of the stage were erecting a "Port
+Arthur" bristling with guns, and several with wheelbarrows were bringing
+in a foreground of rocks, which others arranged with elaborate
+carelessness. Overhead hung a wilderness of ropes and drops, with
+sections of scenery suspended in mid-air. Two spiral staircases of iron
+sprang from either side and lost themselves in the tangle above.
+Ascending and descending were a perpetual stream of heterogeneous
+figures, who went up as birds and came down as village maidens, or who
+from grand dames of fashion were transformed into Quakeresses or drummer
+boys. There was loud chattering on all sides, interspersed with deep
+invectives from the coatless hustlers on the stage. Above all shrieked
+and rattled the pulleys.
+
+The blinding light and the clouds of dust made the scene utterly
+confusing, and for a moment Ralston hesitated vaguely. To his left a
+flock of "partridges" clustered about one of the flies, while one little
+lady partridge sat apart on a nail keg, and eased her little partridge
+foot by loosening her slipper.
+
+To the nearest Ralston turned and inquired for Miss Hudson. The girl
+whom he had addressed stared boldly at him, and without replying waved
+languidly toward the partridge on the barrel. It was evident that she
+took no interest in the friends of Miss Hudson. Ralston turned, and at
+the same moment heard a shrill cackle from the group behind him. In
+spite of himself he could feel the red coursing up to his ears. The girl
+on the barrel had entirely removed her slipper and was stretching her
+toes. She did not look up at his approach, having already minutely
+studied his make-up under the shelter of her heavily corked eyebrows, as
+he emerged from the passage.
+
+"Are you Miss Hudson?"
+
+"Yes," said the partridge, critically examining her instep.
+
+"My name is Ralston," he began rapidly. "I'm looking for a friend of
+mine, who must be turned up at once. It's a matter of life and death,
+and he's got to be found. I have an idea you know him."
+
+"Have you?" said the partridge innocently.
+
+"The man I refer to is John Steadman. Do you know where he is?"
+
+The girl slowly lifted her head and looked at him rather impudently. She
+seemed more like a large doll than a girl.
+
+"I haven't the pleasure of your acquaintance, Mr. Ralston, if that is
+your name, and I don't know your friend Steadman."
+
+There was something about her manner that convinced Ralston that she
+knew more than she admitted, but it was obvious that for purposes of her
+own she had made up her mind to treat him with the scant courtesy
+usually extended by show girls to people who are not worth while, and to
+people it is worth while to keep for a time at a distance.
+
+"I'm very sorry," said Ralston. "I believed that you were the one
+person in New York who could tell me where he was. Of course, you might
+know him under some other name."
+
+"Why are you so interested in finding this Mr.--Steadman?" asked the
+partridge, studiously inserting her foot in a shoe that seemed all toe.
+
+"Simply for his own sake."
+
+"Don't you ever come behind for yours?" she inquired abstractedly.
+Ralston suppressed a smile.
+
+"See here, young lady--" he began, changing his tactics.
+
+"All on for the second!" shouted a big man in a Derby hat. "Here you,
+Hudson, stop fooling and get into your place! Clear the wings."
+
+From behind the wall of curtain came the distant crash of the contending
+chords of the overture. "Port Arthur" with its rocks was in place, the
+Japanese flag flying defiantly in a strong current of air, generated by
+a frenzied electric fan held by a "super" in the moat. The chorus
+trooped from the flies, and came tumbling down fire escapes and
+staircases.
+
+The partridge knocked her heels together and jumped lightly to her feet.
+
+"Peep-peep!" she said. "See you later, old man. Stage door about
+eleven-thirty."
+
+She nodded at him and started hopping toward the stage. The other
+partridges were forming in long lines, with much jostling of tail
+feathers and fluttering of pinions.
+
+"Hurry up there!" shouted the assistant "stage" in Miss Hudson's
+direction, and then turned hastily toward the opposite flies where some
+mix-up had attracted his attention.
+
+Ralston saw his last clew hopping away from him. A bell rang loudly, and
+the orchestra struck up the first few bars of the opening chorus. Hardly
+conscious of what he was doing Ralston strode quickly after the
+partridge and, grasping her firmly by the wings, drew her back into the
+flies.
+
+"Let me go!" she gasped, struggling to free herself. "Let me go! What
+are you trying to do? Do you want to get me fined?"
+
+"Keep quiet," whispered Ralston, "I've got to speak to you. Do you
+understand? I can't let you go on. I'll stand for any fine, and square
+you into the bargain. It's too late, anyway! The curtain's up already."
+
+"Let me go!" she cried, the tears starting into her eyes. "You're
+hurting me, you brute! I'll lose my job. The management don't stand for
+this kind of thing. You're a fine gentleman, _you_ are! Oh, what shall I
+do?"
+
+Ralston's heart smote him. He knew well the hideous uncertainty which
+being out of a job means to the chorus girl, and its more hideous
+possibilities.
+
+"I'm sorry," he said humbly. "I had to do it, and I promise you shall
+lose nothing by it. Now, quick, where can we talk? Not here? The manager
+would see you."
+
+The partridge wiped her eyes.
+
+"Do you promise to square the management?"
+
+"I certainly do--on my honor as a gentleman."
+
+"Then come!" Hudson darted quickly back among the scenery, and Ralston
+followed her down a flight of iron steps which led beneath the stage.
+Pipes ran in all directions, and great heaps of old flies and useless
+properties reached toward the low ceiling, between which narrow alleys
+led off into the darkness. A smell of mold and of paint filled the air.
+Even the scant gas jets seemed to burn with a peculiar dimness in the
+damp atmosphere.
+
+"Come along!" whistled the partridge.
+
+Beyond a pile of lumber in a sort of catacomb she stopped. A bead of gas
+showed blue against some whitewashed brickwork.
+
+"Turn it up," said Hudson, and Ralston did so.
+
+"Hungry?" she continued. "_I_ could eat anything that 'didn't bite me
+first!'"
+
+Ralston laughed.
+
+"Were you in that show?" he asked. "It was a good one. No, I'm not
+hungry. Suppose I were?"
+
+"This is our rathskeller," she laughed. "Are you thirsty?"
+
+Ralston admitted to a certain degree of dryness.
+
+"Certainly," he said, "I should like nothing better than a large
+schooner of dark, imported beer. What will you have?" he continued,
+carrying on the jest.
+
+Hudson, who had seated herself on a low seat by the wall, got up and
+struck sharply on the wooden partition with a stick.
+
+"What's that?" asked Ralston.
+
+"Perhaps some beer will come out!" remarked the partridge. "Moses was
+not the only one."
+
+A rattling followed, and a square opening appeared in the wall, in which
+the shaggy tow-head of a young man was visible.
+
+He grinned at sight of Miss Hudson.
+
+"How vas de shootink?" he inquired. "Does de bartridges vant more vet?
+Ha! Ha! You _vas_ a bird!"
+
+"Ya, Fritz. Two schooners and a hot dog. Hustle 'em up."
+
+Fritz closed the slide which covered the opening and the partridge
+turned gayly toward Ralston.
+
+"What do you think of that? Pretty good, eh?"
+
+"I don't understand," he replied. "Where did he come from? What is in
+there?"
+
+"I'll tell you. When 'Abe' Erlanger built this house there was a row of
+old tenements on the side street. Well, Jo Bimberger tore 'em down and
+built a rathskeller. While he was doing it one of the girls tipped off
+the boss carpenter to leave this place. Ain't it grand? Say, you get
+almost dead jumping around on the boards. It looks easy enough, but I
+tell you sometimes you're ready to scream."
+
+"Just the thing," answered our friend. "Do the management object?"
+
+"Not a bit. 'Abe' gets a rake-off from the saloon. It's good business."
+
+The slide opened and two dripping glasses made their appearance. Ralston
+received them and handed one to Miss Hudson. Then Fritz passed in a
+frankfurter about the size of a policeman's night stick.
+
+Ralston drew half a dollar from his pocket and exchanged it for the
+sausage.
+
+"That's all right, keep the change," he remarked.
+
+"My, you must have it to throw away!" said Hudson. "Twenty-three for
+you, Fritz. Shut the slide."
+
+Ralston took a deep draught of the beer. He could not help smiling as he
+thought of the picture he would present could any one of his associates
+see him at the moment. What, for instance, would the President have
+said? And the Secretary of War! Underneath the stage of a theater,
+drinking beer with a chorus girl! He put down the glass and pulled
+himself together.
+
+"Now to business!" he exclaimed. "This is jolly good fun, but I've a
+long night in front of me, and I've got work to do in it. Where is
+Steadman?"
+
+The partridge looked at him inquiringly.
+
+"You don't mean you really are trying to find anyone?"
+
+"Certainly I do."
+
+"Steadman?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+She shrugged her shoulders. It was clear, even to Ralston, that she was
+disappointed.
+
+"I can't help you."
+
+"You _know_ him?" Ralston's gaze penetrated her feathers.
+
+"Yes. But I don't know where he is--and what is more, I don't care. He's
+a cad."
+
+"Well, let it go at that. But I've got to find him. How long is it since
+you've seen him?"
+
+"Three weeks."
+
+"What was he up to?"
+
+"Oh, the usual business. He's badly in. Let him go; he's not worth your
+while."
+
+"I didn't say he was. But he must be turned up. Was he drinking?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Ah!" Ralston scowled.
+
+"He's a bad one," continued the partridge. "He began at the bottom and
+worked down."
+
+"You must help me to find him. Who is he running with?"
+
+"I don't know anything about him. I've heard he knows a girl named
+Florence Davenport. If you can find her she might help you."
+
+"Where does she live?"
+
+"On Forty-sixth Street," and she gave him a number.
+
+Ralston arose and put his hand in his pocket.
+
+"I am very much indebted to you," he said courteously. "You won't mind
+if I make good your fine?"
+
+He drew out a bill and placed it in her hand. She raised her eyebrows at
+sight of its denomination.
+
+"No," she said, "I haven't done anything for you. I don't want the
+money."
+
+"But your fine?"
+
+"That's all right," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "I could have
+gone on--if I'd wanted to. I was merely bluffing. You couldn't have held
+me. You're a gentleman, and I don't want the money." She spoke quietly,
+and looked him full in the face. Ralston wavered.
+
+"Please don't," said the girl, and held out the bill. Ralston took it
+and returned it to his pocket.
+
+"Miss Hudson," said he, "you have placed me under a great obligation,
+one that money cannot repay. If I can ever help you in any way let me
+know."
+
+The partridge got up and led the way toward the staircase. At the top
+she held out her hand and Ralston took it in his.
+
+"He's not worth it," she repeated. "Let him go."
+
+"_Noblesse oblige_," he smiled, looking down at her.
+
+The chorus had filed off the stage and were standing on the other side.
+
+"Here you, Hudson! Where have you been?" whispered the manager hoarsely,
+grasping her roughly by the shoulder. "Get over there."
+
+"Leave me alone!" she cried sharply, shaking off his arm. Then, turning
+to Ralston:
+
+"Good night, sir," she said.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+Outside the Moonshine Ralston found the usual congestion of cabs,
+landaus, and wagons. He had delayed to exchange a few reminiscences with
+old Vincent, and it was fully ten minutes before he could find his cabby
+in the tangle of vehicles. As he stepped into the street, to save the
+time requisite for the man to draw to the curb, an omnibus was vainly
+trying to force its way through the side street. It had paused for an
+instant in front of the stage entrance, and Ralston had caught a glimpse
+of Ellen's face inside.
+
+A momentary impulse had seized him to stop the coach and tell her of the
+hopelessness of the task upon which she had sent him, but in the instant
+of his uncertainty the way had cleared and they had driven on. He had
+climbed into his own hansom, little the wiser for his experience at the
+Moonshine.
+
+The sidewalks were jammed with the usual after-theater crowd hurrying
+either to get home as quickly as possible or to secure seats in
+restaurants which pandered less to the taste of the _gourmet_ than to
+those of the _roué_. For a solid mile on either side of Broadway
+stretched house after house of entertainment, any one of which could
+harbor a hundred Steadmans, and for a quarter of a mile on either hand
+lay twenty streets, lined with places of a character vastly more likely
+to do so. He followed the crowd slowly northward, wondering why so few
+of them walked in the opposite direction. Whenever he came to a
+well-known hostelry he went in and eagerly scanned the tables, but,
+although he recognized many he knew and who knew him, he found naught of
+Steadman.
+
+Having visited five "chophouses," a "rathskeller," two "hofbraus," and
+several more pretentious places, he abandoned the idea of trying to
+stumble upon his man, and returned to his original belief that only by
+following some sort of a clew could he succeed. Somewhere in the hot
+clasp of the city lay the miserable youth he had promised to find. For a
+moment he regretted the answer which he had just sent to Ellen's
+apartment--the four words that had pledged him to a fool's errand, the
+absurdity of which was now apparent. Then came a realizing sense of the
+importance to Ellen of his mission, and a grim determination to find
+this man wherever he might be.
+
+He had now reached Forty-second Street, and the crowd divided into two
+streams, one moving eastward and the other northward, a part of the
+latter to plunge beneath the Times Building into the subway, and the
+remainder to add to the already existing congestion in front of the
+Hotel Astor, Rector's, Shanley's, and the New York Theater. Longacre
+Square boiled with life--a life garish, tawdry, sensual and vulgar,
+unlike that of any other city or generation.
+
+The restaurants could seat no more, and a bejeweled, scented throng
+stood in the doorways and struggled for the vacant tables. The night
+hawks lining the curb peered eagerly at every passer-by to note signs of
+intoxication or indecision. Tiny newsboys thrust their bundles of papers
+against dress waistcoats and felt for loose watches, ready to dart into
+the throng at the first move of suspicion on the part of their victims.
+Clerks with their best girls pointed out these and made witticisms upon
+them, hoping thus to divert attention from the attractions of the
+restaurants, for whose splendors they intended later to substitute the
+more substantial, if more economical, pleasures of the dairy lunch.
+Automobiles, in which sat supercilious foreign chauffeurs, blocked the
+entrances of the pleasure palaces. Streams of country folk poured in and
+out of hotels which made a specialty of rural trade, promising to their
+patrons, in widely distributed circulars, easy access to everything
+"worth seeing." These came, were relieved of their money, and, after
+fervid correspondence on the hotel stationery, went home to poison the
+minds of their townfolk with descriptions of scenes which existed only
+in their imaginations.
+
+For every person on Longacre Square after midnight who is there for an
+honest purpose, there are three who are there either to do that which
+they should not do or to see that which they should not see. It is the
+white light in which the New York moth plays before he plunges into the
+withering flame. It was here Steadman had begun, and like enough he was
+not far off.
+
+The electric clock above the roof tops moved to a quarter before one as
+Ralston turned into Forty-sixth Street, and he looked both ways before
+springing from his hansom and dashing up the steps of the number to
+which he had been directed. After some time a mulatto maid opened the
+door and asked his business. Miss Davenport was out, she said. Ralston
+stretched the truth far enough to say that he was a friend. The girl had
+no idea where she could be found. Then Ralston also volunteered that he
+was a friend of Mr. Steadman's. Still the maid remained imperturbable.
+The sight of a bill, however, led to an immediate change of demeanor.
+
+Yes, Miss Davenport had gone out with a gentleman--not Mr.
+Steadman--early in the evening. Did she know Mr. Steadman? Yes, she
+thought she knew Mr. Steadman--a dark gentleman. She seemed anxious to
+help Ralston, but doubtful of success.
+
+As was not unreasonable, Ralston was beginning to be quite disgusted at
+the position in which he found himself, a condition which was by no
+means relieved by the fact that, as he reached the bottom of the steps,
+he found himself face to face with Colonel Duer and a somewhat elderly
+lady companion. The new Assistant Secretary felt distinctly
+uncomfortable. Another man might have turned away his face, but Ralston
+looked steadily into the colonel's under the full light of the street
+lamp. Simultaneously he raised his hand to his hat, then crossed the
+sidewalk and jumped into the hansom. The cabby lifted the manhole and
+looked down the air shaft.
+
+"Huh?" said he. "Where'll I go now?"
+
+"I don't know," said Ralston.
+
+The cabby chuckled. He was satisfied one way quite as well as another.
+From his seat of vantage he was able to look down critically upon
+mankind in general, and had learned to distinguish "the real thing" when
+he saw it. He had no doubts as to Ralston, and no misgivings at all as
+to the latter's ability to pay and pay well, and he was as confident
+that his tip would be in accordance with the most advanced ideas of
+liberality as he was that this same fare of his was quite out of the
+ordinary. He had sized Ralston for a thoroughbred from the moment that
+he had come downstairs. For one thing he did not waste words, for
+another he neither looked at his watch nor inquired the price; for
+another--and you could always tell by that--he knew just what he was
+doing. Moreover, he was perfectly sober. He belonged to that small and
+distinguished body of midnight travelers who realize that they are in a
+cab and not in a hammock. Hence Ralston's admission that he did not know
+where to go to next struck upon the cabby intelligence in the light of a
+joke.
+
+"Huh?" said he again, removing his cigar.
+
+"I said I didn't know," repeated Ralston.
+
+"Up against it!" said cabby with divination.
+
+"Exactly," returned his fare with a slight laugh. "You are a man of
+perspicacity."
+
+"Huh?" repeated the cabby.
+
+"I said you were a mind reader," answered Ralston.
+
+"I guess I can see furder'n most," admitted cabby complacently.
+
+Ralston had struck a match and lit a fresh cigar. He was feeling very,
+very tired. His watch showed that there were exactly six hours left
+before the Twelfth would start--not a minute more.
+
+The cabby was still peering down the manhole and dropping an occasional
+sympathetic ash on Ralston's silk hat. His fare interested him--he was
+beginning to have a notion that Ralston was somebody. Maybe a big
+military gun. He had that clean, hard look those fellers have.
+
+Suddenly the fare spoke again, in an even more amiable tone than before.
+
+"My friend, how long have you been in this business?"
+
+The cabby hesitated while he made an accurate mathematical computation.
+
+"Five years on a percentage--ten years on my own--fifteen years, sir."
+
+"You know the town pretty well, eh?"
+
+"Fairly well, sir."
+
+"Is there a _café_ somewhere a bit out of the way--something quiet, you
+know?"
+
+"Sure, across the square. Shall I drive you there?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The cabby clucked to his horse, and they wheeled about and crossed the
+White Way again. The pedestrians were thinning out. The rain had ceased,
+the clouds had parted, and the sky was sprinkled with brightly burning
+stars. Up in the Times Tower the afternoon before one of the editorial
+writers had polished up a "war-whoop" such as, he had said to himself,
+would make the Japanese emperor scratch his head. It was a half-column
+"drip" in the nature of a "Godspeed" to the first volunteer regiment to
+start for the front. He liked the Twelfth, and had been in it himself
+under Ralston. The thought had reminded him that he ought to give his
+old captain a bit of a send-off as well, and he had penned a dozen lines
+to be inserted after the other, and headed "A Wise Appointment," ending
+his short paragraph with the words: "The nation is to be sincerely
+congratulated on the wisdom of the Executive's selection."
+
+Twenty-five stories below, the subject of his encomium was now entering
+the side door of a shabby _café_, followed by his cabby. They seated
+themselves at a table in the corner of the sawdust-covered floor.
+
+"The situation is this," began Ralston, after the waiter had picked up
+his tip and retired. "I must, inside of six hours, turn up a man who is
+somewhere in the city. He doesn't know enough to want to be found. He
+must be located without outside help--quietly. The only clew I have to
+his whereabouts is that he knows a young woman named Florence Davenport.
+She lives in that house we stopped at. She has gone out with a man named
+Sullivan. I don't know the fellow, but the chances are he won't help me.
+But whether he will or not, I don't know where he is, and I must find
+him in order to find her."
+
+He looked at the cabby inquiringly.
+
+"I know him, all right," said the cabby. "A big 'harp' with a sandy
+mustache. I know her, too. I took 'em both out this very night."
+
+"Took them out!" exclaimed Ralston. "Why, in Heaven's name, didn't you
+say so before!" Then he remembered and laughed at the absurdity of his
+question. The fatigue of a severe day was dissipated in a moment.
+
+"Sure," continued the cabby, "I took 'em out just before I answered your
+call. She uses the same stable."
+
+"Where did they go?"
+
+"Proctor's."
+
+"Where do you suppose they are now?"
+
+"You can search me!" responded the cabby, now thoroughly interested.
+"The chances are about even between Shanley's and the Martin, but you
+tried Shanley's. Better hike right down to the other place."
+
+Ralston started swiftly to his feet, made his way to the cab, and in a
+moment more they were galloping down Broadway.
+
+The electric timepiece on the roofs marked four minutes past one as
+they rattled past. What people were still awake were most of them
+inside the shining windows of the restaurants, and the big porters
+were leaning sleepily against the doorposts of their hostelries. In
+the cab Ralston wondered what the President would say if he could see
+him then, chasing all over the town after a young woman and her male
+escort. He was dreadfully sleepy, and the cushions of the cab were so
+soft--soft--sof----
+
+He pulled himself together as the cab reined up sharply at the
+Twenty-sixth Street entrance of the Café Martin. His driver did not need
+to be told to wait, and Ralston hurriedly pushed his way through the
+revolving doors into the hot, scented air of the waiting hall. If it was
+late on Broadway, it was early enough inside the Martin.
+
+On the right, in a crowded _café_, two hundred soldier boys and
+civilians with their sweethearts sat noisily discussing broiled
+lobsters, Welsh rarebits, caviare sandwiches, and such less important
+matters as were suggested by the last news from Washington. The air
+reeked with the fumes of hot food, cigarette smoke, and steam heat. When
+the side door opened, and the draught pulled through from the main
+dining room, one caught a whiff of rice powder and violets. The chatter
+and clatter were deafening.
+
+To Ralston the chances seemed in favor of the other and more conspicuous
+company in the front room, so he turned back and crossed the hall. At
+the door of the main dining room he paused. At fully eighteen out of the
+twenty-five tables which were presented to his view sat an equal number
+of young women who might have qualified as Miss Florence Davenport.
+There was more room here, the music was louder, and the men had on
+either uniforms or evening dress. The confusion was even greater than in
+the _café_, due to the greater amount of light and music and the
+variation of color. Here and there at the larger tables sat groups of
+officers, indulging in pompous patriotic toasts.
+
+Ralston moved toward the center of the room, eagerly scanning the tables
+in search of a blond man with a light mustache, but he saw none to
+correspond with the cabby's description. Then from behind him he heard
+his name called, and he turned to be greeted by a chorus of
+congratulatory welcome from a party of his old comrades of the Twelfth,
+who crowded around him, drew him into a chair and ordered more bottles.
+
+Ralston protested but feebly. He was out of sorts with the whole
+miserable business.
+
+"Here's to you, old man!" exclaimed Peyton, one of Duer's lieutenants.
+"Boys, here's to the next Secretary of the Navy, and then, who
+knows--well, here's to Dick Ralston, the best ever--bumpers!"
+
+"Fellows," answered Ralston, "it's very good of you. It's very good of
+the President. I hope I'll do him credit, but the best any of us can do
+is the right way as each of us sees it at the moment--and no one knows
+where it may lead us. Here's to being on the level--here's to the right
+way and the _white_ way!" He started to drink off the toast when a man's
+head and shoulders arose behind Peyton, and a thick voice cried:
+
+"That for mine! Th' White Way--th' Great White Way!" and he raised a
+goblet and drained it. The men in the group laughed, and the laugh was
+echoed from several of the tables. As the fellow stumbled back into his
+seat Ralston realized suddenly that he had found his man. A red face and
+a blond mustache! The elusive Sullivan at last!
+
+For a moment our hero chatted animatedly with his friends, while taking
+note of the position of the table at which the fellow sat. As yet he
+could not see whether Sullivan had a companion, for the table was in a
+recess and behind a stand of artificial palms. Then he leaned across the
+shoulder of the man next him and caught sight of a gray silk dress and a
+rose-trimmed hat. Who the lady was it was impossible for him to
+discover, as her head was completely hidden by the paper foliage toward
+which her companion was bending. They were, apparently, by no means near
+the end of their supper, so that there was time to consider the
+situation and to decide upon a course of action. But the situation
+itself was a novel one to Ralston.
+
+Now the mere accosting of a young lady in a public restaurant is not a
+very serious matter, even if she be accompanied by a male escort, so
+long as the matter be done decently and in order. But to suddenly burst
+upon a _tête-à-tête_ couple from behind a bunch of palms, and demand
+what has been done with a young man, especially if it be nearly three in
+the morning, is somewhat different. One mistaken move, and the search
+would have to be abandoned. How was he to introduce himself to a strange
+woman and compel her to divulge information which she might have no
+intention of disclosing, and how, moreover, could this be accomplished
+in the presence of a person of the type of Mr. Sullivan? He had no claim
+on either of them. Even assuming that the bounder did not object to his
+having speech with the lady, it was unlikely that she would admit any
+intimacy with Steadman in the presence of her companion. No, he must
+speak to the girl by herself--that was clear enough. But how? Obviously,
+he could not invite her escort to step out into the next room for a few
+moments. Neither was it at all likely that she would accede to any
+request of his (carried by a waiter) either to speak to him or to get
+rid of her companion. Again he was, in the vernacular, "up against it"
+as his cabby had suggested on a previous occasion.
+
+Meantime the moments were slipping by, with Ralston trying hard to keep
+up his end of the conversation. Ten minutes more, and he had determined
+definitely that there was no course open but to trust to the girl
+herself for a solution. All he could do was to throw his hand down, face
+up, before her, and let her decide. In the event of his request being
+ignored, he must face it boldly out with both of them.
+
+Borrowing a pencil he wrote upon his visiting card: "Miss Davenport will
+place the writer under the greatest possible obligation by allowing him
+to speak to her privately upon a matter of the utmost importance. He is
+in civilian dress at the next table." Underneath his name he wrote:
+"Second Assistant Secretary of the Navy." Summoning the head waiter he
+instructed the latter to carry it to the lady behind the palm in such a
+manner that it should be unobserved by her companion.
+
+He felt instantly relieved--the relief the rider feels the moment he has
+decided to take the jump and his horse rises beneath him. He plunged
+anew into the banter going on about him. He saw, out of the corner of
+his eye, his messenger circle the room, approach the couple from the
+other side, address Mr. Sullivan, call his attention to something behind
+him, and slip the card into his companion's lap. Then the attendant
+moved on.
+
+Several moments passed. He began to feel that nothing had been
+accomplished when there came a crash of glass, the palm rocked, and the
+lady in some confusion sprang to her feet, shaking her dress. Her escort
+arose more slowly, cursing the nearest waiters in a comprehensive
+manner. The hubbub in the restaurant ceased momentarily, but quickly
+began again as the manager and his aids hurried forward to offer their
+assistance.
+
+They had hard work to appease Mr. Sullivan, however. He wanted to see
+the proprietor, and insisted loudly, although irrelevantly, that he was
+an "American gentleman." The table was righted, and the head waiter
+promised that a second supper should be instantly forthcoming, but
+Sullivan remained in a state of defiance. He insisted on seeing "Monseer
+Martin"--"my fren' Monseer Martin," and called loudly for a "garsoon" to
+take him there.
+
+Apparently the lady herself was indignant, and was not at all averse to
+having her escort see his "fren' Monseer Martin." Then, with his head
+high in air like a red harvest moon, the rampant Sullivan made his way
+toward the main door of the dining room, followed by the apologetic and
+deprecatory head waiter.
+
+As the two passed out Ralston arose.
+
+"Going?" inquired Peyton.
+
+"Not very far. I'll be right back," replied our friend.
+
+The others watched him curiously.
+
+In a moment he was behind the palm, and had sunk into Sullivan's vacant
+seat.
+
+"How d'y do, Mr. Second Assistant Secretary of the Navy?" remarked the
+young woman nonchalantly. "Glad to know you. Rather a noisy
+introduction, eh?"
+
+"I'm surprised you thought it worth while," answered Ralston. "Our
+friend has probably polished off Martin by this time, and is already on
+his way back. Then he'll be ready to polish off _me_!"
+
+"I guess you're able to take care of yourself, all right," replied the
+girl. "What is it you want?"
+
+"I don't know that it's wise for me to tell you on this short
+acquaintance."
+
+"Short? Yes. I suppose it is. But, you see, I know _you_. And if I can
+help Mr. Ralston, why I _will_."
+
+"Thank you," said Ralston. The words sounded entirely _malapropos_ and
+inadequate. "Tell me, then--tell me where to find John Steadman."
+
+Instantly the girl's whole manner changed and she drew back.
+
+"Steadman!" she exclaimed uneasily.
+
+"Yes, Steadman! John Steadman. I must find him _to-night_!"
+
+"You can't!" she cried in some agitation. "You can't. I've no business
+to tell you even that, but you _can't_."
+
+Ralston's face settled into a grim mask.
+
+"I _will_!" he answered steadily. "And you're going to help me."
+
+"I can't, Mr. Ralston. I can't. I don't know where he is."
+
+Ralston's heart fell again.
+
+"But you can _help_ me?" he asked.
+
+"I can't. I swear I can't," she replied almost hysterically, and Ralston
+could see that she was speaking the truth.
+
+"Tell me," he said, "tell me, and I'll give you anything you ask--does
+_Sullivan_ know?"
+
+As he spoke the girl's face turned pale under the electric light. She
+nodded her head slightly, while at the same moment a thick hand
+descended on Ralston's shoulder and a heavy, wine-laden voice growled in
+his ear:
+
+"Whatcher doin' in my seat?"
+
+Ralston sprang to his feet and shook off the hand.
+
+"Whatcher doin' talkin' to this lady?" inquired the other, his eyes
+blazing with anger. His voice rang loudly above the roar of
+conversation.
+
+"Miss Davenport is a friend of mine," replied Ralston as quietly as he
+could.
+
+"Frien' nothin'!" cried Sullivan. "I'll teach you to mind your own
+business." He took a step backward and began to pull off his dinner
+jacket.
+
+"Don't, Jim!" cried the girl. "Don't! Please! Please don't!"
+
+"Shut up!" snarled Sullivan. "I'll attend to you later!"
+
+There was a great uproar in the restaurant. At the same instant Sullivan
+led heavily at Ralston's head. Almost automatically, with every ounce of
+his body at the end of an arm trained into a steel rod, Ralston ducked
+and countered. His fist caught Sullivan squarely on the chin, and the
+man went down and backward like a duck shot on the wing. His head struck
+on a corner of the table, and he lay motionless.
+
+The next instant Ralston was the center of an excited, jostling crowd.
+Peyton had his arm around him and was whispering: "Get out quick, old
+man. Awfully unfortunate. Get out while there's time."
+
+"Some one ring for an ambulance!" shouted a civilian at a nearby table.
+
+"Is there a doctor here?" inquired the head waiter mechanically,
+hurrying toward the door.
+
+Ralston's head reeled. The President's latest appointee mixed up in a
+drunken brawl at a public hostelry! Worse than that, if possible, he
+had, perhaps, killed the only man who knew where Steadman could be
+found. It had all happened so quickly that he saw it like the scenes of
+a vitagraph, with little twinkles of light glinting all about. Then a
+girl's voice whispered in his ear:
+
+"Get away! You mustn't be mixed up in this. Get away while you can!"
+
+Somebody began to fling water in Sullivan's face and to rip off his
+collar. The crowd forced itself almost upon the prostrate man. "Get
+away," he heard Peyton repeating. "Don't be a fool! Think of the
+Administration!"
+
+Men were climbing upon tables to see what was going on. There was a
+deafening hubbub from the main hall, into which the crowd from the other
+room was pouring. Ralston was thinking as quickly as he could. He saw
+his whole public career shattered by a single blow. He saw Ellen's
+anxious face and heard her words: "Please find Steadman." He ground his
+teeth. The only clew to Steadman lay like a log before him, struck down
+by his own hand.
+
+Some one in the back of the room shouted: "Send for the police--a man
+has been shot!" and he heard the silly cry repeated in the outer
+corridor. Less than half a minute had passed, but to Ralston it had
+already seemed twenty, when he decided upon the only course Fate had
+left open to him.
+
+How he managed to do it he never really knew. Afterwards it appeared
+absurdly impossible, but Peyton said that at the time it seemed
+reasonable enough. There had been a moment when, in the confusion, the
+crowd had blocked its own efforts to get closer, a moment when no one
+apparently had known what to do, a moment which Ralston, in his
+businesslike and rather autocratic fashion, had turned to his own
+advantage.
+
+A hurried whisper to Peyton, and with the help of one of their brother
+officers they had raised Sullivan from the floor and, followed by the
+girl, had carried him to the Fifth Avenue entrance. "Keep back the
+crowd!" Peyton had cried to the head waiter. "We must give this man
+air," and in a moment more they had staggered with Sullivan's limp form
+to the ever-ready hansom, which had wheeled quickly to their assistance,
+and shoved him in.
+
+In another moment there had appeared around the corner of the building a
+throng of men and women in evening dress, among whom were mingled
+waiters, pedestrians, and cabmen.
+
+"To the hospital!" cried Ralston, and pushing in the girl, sprang after
+her himself. The cabman cut furiously at his horse, the bystanders
+parted, and the hansom leaped forward like a chariot in a Roman
+amphitheater, with Ralston, who had snatched the reins from above his
+head, guiding the excited animal down Fifth Avenue.
+
+A policeman made an ineffectual attempt to stop them at Twenty-third
+Street, but quickly stepped aside to avoid being run down.
+
+"Hully gee!" shouted the cabman inconsequently, "Hully gee!" while the
+girl, staring abstractedly at the motionless face beside her, murmured
+excitedly, "A clean get-away! A clean get-away!"
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+They turned west at Eighth Street and crossed Sixth Avenue at a slow
+trot. Ralston had surrendered the reins to the driver and was now
+racking his brains for a solution of his extraordinary and sensational
+predicament. The girl had taken Sullivan's motionless head into her lap.
+
+"Where to, sir?" inquired the cabby through the manhole.
+
+"I don't know," answered Ralston. "Lose us if you can, that's all. Lose
+us so we won't be able to find our own way back."
+
+They continued west, following narrow, dimly lit streets, under the
+shadow of high warehouses. Sullivan had given as yet no sign of life and
+the girl had not spoken since Twenty-third Street. The strain of the
+situation began to tell.
+
+"Well, what are we going to do now?" inquired Ralston with an attempt at
+jocularity. The girl did not reply, and as he heard her sobbing softly a
+pang of remorse touched him. What business had he to force this young
+woman into being an accessory after the fact in what might be heralded
+as a crime?
+
+"Miss Davenport," he said, "I'm awfully sorry to have dragged you into
+this. Indeed, I am. Let me drive you home. I'll look after Sullivan, and
+if necessary take him to a hospital."
+
+"And leave you to stick this out by yourself? Not on your life!" she
+replied. "It's a bad mix-up, but we've got to pull it off somehow. But
+first we've got to do something for Jim. Look, there's a drug store over
+there and a night light."
+
+"But that won't do," expostulated Ralston. "We never could explain to
+the officer on post. We'll have to go somewhere else. You know about
+these things. Where?"
+
+"Yes, yes--I know."
+
+"Well, quickly!"
+
+The cabman was peering down through the manhole.
+
+"Do you know Commerce Street?" asked the girl.
+
+"Sure I do," said the cabby.
+
+"Well, go to No. 589."
+
+The cabman jerked around his horse. They were in Greenwich Village now,
+and not far from the old New York Central freight depot. Trim little
+brick houses with white portals and tiny eves lined the streets. Slender
+lanes led away into black distances. The night was silent save for the
+rush and roar of the elevated and the clack of their own horse's hoofs.
+Not a window was agleam. In this respectable neighborhood folks went to
+bed betimes, and got up early.
+
+The cool night air soothed Ralston's nerves, but with it he felt limp
+and tired. The excitement at the restaurant, the wild dash down Fifth
+Avenue, the presence with them of a man who might perhaps be dead, the
+fear of pursuit, the extraordinary situation in which he, a man of so
+much recent prominence, found himself, the strange way in which this
+girl had become a partner in his fortunes, dazed and bewildered him.
+
+"He can't be dead," muttered Ralston. "He can't be dead!"
+
+The cab turned into a little street lined with irregularly shaped
+houses. A few gnarled and distorted trees, whose trunks burst out of the
+concrete pavement, raised their dust-laden branches, prehensile and
+unnatural, into the starlight. A hundred feet from where the street
+began it turned sharply to the left, forming a right angle, and
+debouched again into another thoroughfare. Had one of the ends of it
+been closed it would have formed a natural _cul-de-sac_--an appendix to
+one of the great canals of the city. And with curious impropriety the
+city fathers had named this "accidental" Commerce Street, leaving it to
+the imagination as to what sort of commerce had been intended. A rickety
+gas lamp leaned dangerously toward a flight of high wooden steps in the
+angle of the street. Strangely enough, when the street turned the house
+turned, too, so that half its front faced north and half east. The
+natural inference was that the inside of the house was shaped like a
+piece of pie, with its partially bitten point abutting on the corner.
+
+Ralston took charge of Sullivan and the girl sprang down and stepped
+into the area. Somewhere at a great distance a bell rang once, and then,
+more faintly, a second time. They waited in silence. On the main
+thoroughfare beyond the gnarled trees a policeman slowly sauntered
+across the street. At the top of one of the opposite houses a window was
+raised cautiously and voices could be heard whispering. Again the bell
+jangled loosely in the distance, then came the sound of iron bars
+rattling and bolts being shot back. A grating creaked rustily.
+
+"It's me--Floss. Let me in."
+
+The girl ran back to the cab and a match flared in the grating. Ralston
+thought he saw a wrinkled face behind the light.
+
+"All right. Bring him in," said the girl.
+
+Ralston and the cabman lifted the lank form of Sullivan to the sidewalk
+and half carried, half dragged him into the area. At their feet lay a
+small flight of steps upon which played a feeble light from the inside.
+Down this they pulled the victim of Ralston's strange quest. A passage
+opened before them, in the middle of which stood a tiny, wrinkled Jewish
+woman, who watched them with snapping, restless eyes, like those of a
+blackbird.
+
+The girl pushed by them and, taking the candle from the woman, opened a
+door leading to the right. The air was close and unwholesome. A bed with
+only a mattress covering the springs stood in the corner, and upon this
+Ralston and the cabman placed the still unconscious form of Mr.
+Sullivan.
+
+"That'll do for the present," said the girl. "Now you" (addressing the
+cabman) "wait outside. If the cop asks what you are doin', you're
+waiting for a fare in another house, see?"
+
+The cabman retired, and the Jewish woman lit a kerosene lamp. The girl
+disappeared and returned with a wet sponge and a bottle of ammonia. She
+now opened Sullivan's shirt and sponged his face with perfect
+confidence. Then she poured some ammonia upon the sponge and applied it
+to his nostrils. Ralston, leaning over the bed, coughed in spite of
+himself.
+
+Sullivan opened his eyes a little; the girl removed the sponge and put
+her head close to his face.
+
+"He's breathing--he'll come round all right," she said. "He stays 'out'
+an awful long time."
+
+She gave him the ammonia again and the patient gasped audibly. Ralston
+heaved a great sigh of relief. Although he had known himself to be
+absolutely in the right he was aware that this body-snatching was, to
+say the least, irregular. Had the fellow died it would have made a nasty
+story for the papers. He sank back on a horsehair rocking chair and the
+room grew black with little pricking stars. The next moment he felt the
+sponge thrust in his face.
+
+"You're almost out yourself, Mr. Ralston. I'll have a cup of coffee
+ready for you in a minute. Lie down on the sofa."
+
+Ralston indeed felt sick and faint, the lids of his eyes seemed like
+lead, pulled down by invisible but powerful strings. The man was not
+dead! But Steadman--he'd think of Steadman in a moment, after he had
+rested his eyes a little----
+
+He leaned back his head--and slept. A light touch on his forehead
+awakened him half an hour later, and he opened his eyes upon a strange
+picture. The room was stuffy and warm as ever. The lamp cast but an
+uncertain light on the walls, which, he noticed, were quite bare of
+ornament. Over the windows were heavy wooden shutters, bolted on the
+inside. On the bed lay Sullivan, breathing heavily. The floor was
+covered by a dirty rag carpet, and the only articles of furniture
+besides the bed itself were a horsehair-covered lounge, a small table,
+and two horsehair-covered chairs, and in the midst of these uncouth
+surroundings stood a girl in shimmering evening dress, her white
+shoulders shining in the lamplight, offering him a cup of hot and
+fragrant coffee.
+
+"You're a brick," said Ralston feebly.
+
+The girl smiled.
+
+"Kind of funny, ain't it? To think of you and me and him"--she pointed
+over her shoulder--"being here. What a rumpus the police'll make when
+they can't find him at any hospital. It's a queer mix-up, now, ain't
+it?"
+
+"I should say it _was_!" echoed Ralston. He gulped down the coffee. "Do
+you live here?" he asked, sweeping the room again with his eyes. The
+girl smiled.
+
+"Not generally," she said.
+
+"But this house--whose is it?"
+
+The girl shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"They've never been able to find out at the tax office," she said.
+
+"You're a good girl," said Ralston inconsequently.
+
+The smile on the girl's face changed. She started to speak. Then she
+closed her eyes and covered them with her hands.
+
+The figure in the bed gave vent to a long-drawn-out snort and tossed
+heavily. The girl dabbed her eyes with her wrists and turned with an
+anxious look.
+
+"He's waking up," she whispered. "He'll be crazy when he sees you here."
+
+"But I brought him here," said Ralston, "and it was his own fault.
+Besides, he is going to find Steadman for me."
+
+"Find Steadman for you?" she exclaimed.
+
+"Why, certainly! Why not?"
+
+The girl looked at him in amazement.
+
+"And that's why you carried him off?"
+
+"Yes--naturally--of course. What did you think?"
+
+She gave a low laugh and clapped her hands softly together.
+
+"And I thought all along it was just to get yourself out of the mess you
+were in--to avoid the publicity and all. I didn't see your game. I
+thought it was all up for you--and the best you could do was to get out
+of having to go to court! But they can't count you out, can they? My,
+you _have_ got a nerve!" she finished enthusiastically.
+
+Ralston shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I assure you it wasn't as clearly thought out as all that. It was like
+clutching at whatever was left. Sullivan's my only clew. How can I force
+a statement from this fellow? What has he done? What hold can I get on
+him?"
+
+The girl looked at him half frightened yet full of admiration.
+
+"Don't try it, Mr. Ralston," she whispered. "Give it up. You can't do
+it. It's too late. Besides, Sullivan's a dangerous man--a man who stands
+in with all the politicians--a bad fellow to threaten. He's done things
+enough, God knows, to send him to jail a dozen times--but leave him
+alone! You've done enough for Steadman. If you try to monkey with
+Sullivan _anything_ might happen to you. You mightn't leave this house
+alive. Get away before it's too late. You're probably due in Washington
+about now. This night's work will blow over, and Steadman isn't worth
+the powder to blow his brains out." She clasped her hands with a gesture
+of entreaty.
+
+"No," said Ralston. "I've begun, and I must finish the job. I mightn't
+have gone into it if I had known what it was going to cost, but it's too
+late to back out now. Besides, I've nothing to lose. I'm done for. This
+'Martin' business would kill the Administration if I didn't resign. In
+fact, the public need never know that I have accepted. Fancy! The police
+looking for the Second Assistant Secretary of the Navy as a fugitive
+from justice! Why, the papers will be full of it. But that doesn't help
+me with Steadman. I've got to force this fellow here to give up. Tell me
+something to use as a lever."
+
+The man on the bed groaned loudly and elevated one knee high in the air.
+The girl hesitated, evidently torn between various conflicting claims of
+loyalty.
+
+"Tell him," she whispered after a moment--"tell him you know all about
+Shackleton and the Mercantile bonds. If that isn't enough, say you'll
+hand him over for the Masterson deal--that'll fetch him, but be careful
+and don't get him angry. He may not know where Steadman is, after all.
+But I heard him say that the gang had almost finished trimming Steadman
+and were going to finish him up to-night--at cards I think. They've
+gotten almost every cent he has already----"
+
+Sullivan gave a harsh cough and arose to a sitting position.
+
+"Shackleton--Mercantile bonds--Masterson deal," murmured Ralston to
+himself.
+
+"Huh! That you, Floss?" grunted Sullivan. "What are we doin' here?
+Where's the old woman?"
+
+"Sh-h! It's all right, Jim," said the girl. "We made a clean get-away.
+You came near running in the lot of us."
+
+"Whatcher talking about?" mumbled Sullivan. "'Bout 'getaways'?" Then he
+caught sight of Ralston. "Who's this feller?"
+
+"All right, Mr. Sullivan, I'm a friend of yours," said Ralston quietly.
+
+Sullivan looked fixedly at him for a moment without speaking.
+
+"I've seen you before," he muttered. "Somewheres."
+
+"Sure," said Ralston with a laugh. "You tried to do me up at 'The
+Martin' not over an hour ago."
+
+Sullivan glared at him.
+
+"You that feller?"
+
+"I am."
+
+"Whatcher doin' here?"
+
+"Same thing I was going to do at 'The Martin' if you'd given me the
+chance--have a talk with you."
+
+Sullivan looked puzzled and rubbed the back of his head. He had none of
+the resplendency of his earlier appearance.
+
+"Must ha' fallen an' hit my head," said he in an explanatory manner.
+"Say, did anyone _club_ me?"
+
+"No," said Ralston. "But you got a pretty rough deal."
+
+"Say," repeated Sullivan, "how'd you come to bring me to the old
+woman's?"
+
+"I had to take you somewhere," said Ralston. There was a pause of
+several seconds, during which Sullivan endeavored to readjust himself.
+
+"What's yer name?" he inquired.
+
+"Sackett," said Ralston.
+
+"Sackett," repeated Sullivan. "I don't know Sackett. What's yer
+business?"
+
+"Oh, I'm a detective," answered Ralston lightly.
+
+Sullivan started and clutched at the mattress.
+
+"Detective!" he muttered. "What d'yer want?"
+
+"I don't want anything," said Ralston. "I know quite a lot about you,
+Mr. Sullivan, but it stays where it is. All I want is a little help."
+
+"You go to hell!" growled Sullivan.
+
+"No--no!" replied Ralston. "Not yet. I want you to tell me where I can
+find Steadman. You see, his folks are anxious, and it's worth quite a
+little to me to locate him. It needn't interfere with any of your
+plans. Besides, I imagine you're about through with him, eh?"
+
+The color returned to Sullivan's face and he snarled angrily.
+
+"None of that to me, see? I am on to you, understand? You'd better get
+out of here, while you're still able."
+
+The girl, who had remained silent, now spoke again:
+
+"Be careful, Jim; this man can make trouble for us."
+
+Sullivan looked sharply at her, but evidently nothing about her
+appearance or speech excited his suspicions.
+
+"Mr. Sullivan," continued Ralston from his seat in the horsehair rocker,
+"I don't mean you any harm. In fact, I can do you a good turn now and
+then if you'll help me out. All I want is my coin for turning up this
+chap Steadman. I know he's no good. He's anybody's money. He's nothing
+to me. But it's all in my day's work. Now, don't think me disagreeable.
+I want Steadman, you want--well, you don't want certain little incidents
+of your career to get to the ears of the district attorney--the
+Shackleton bonds, for example. Now, don't be alarmed. I haven't the
+slightest intention of giving you away, but, come now, let's be on the
+level with each other."
+
+Sullivan cast an evil look at him.
+
+"You think you've got something on me, eh? Prove it! What bonds did you
+say?"
+
+Ralston saw that he had nearly made a slip.
+
+"Quite right," said he. "I said Shackleton bonds--I was _thinking_ of
+Shackleton. Of course I meant the Mercantile bonds. But if you have any
+doubt about my sincerity I might go into the Masterson matter----"
+
+But Sullivan was on his feet, his eyes staring, and his face as pale as
+it had been on the floor of "The Martin."
+
+"For Heaven's sake!" he implored.
+
+Ralston rose.
+
+"Come! Come! Is it a bargain? You help me and I help you. Where is he?"
+
+"I'll go with you," muttered Sullivan. "Where's my coat?" He looked
+around anxiously. There was no doubt as to the effectiveness of the
+reference to the Masterson case.
+
+"Get me a coat," he ordered of the girl. Florence Davenport left the
+room, leaving the two men facing one another--the criminal and the
+gentleman. It would have been hard to say which looked the more haggard.
+The light of the dim lamp made the rings around Ralston's eyes look like
+huge horn-rimmed spectacles, and his mouth was drawn to a thin line.
+Inside his head was beginning to sing and the corners of his lids to
+twitch. He knew the symptoms. He was beginning to "fade out." But he was
+getting warm now and he paid no heed to himself.
+
+The girl returned, bringing in her arms a pile of new silk-lined black
+overcoats. Ralston remembered the incident afterwards, but at the time
+it did not impress him. It is doubtful whether he knew definitely the
+meaning of the term--"a fence."
+
+Mechanically he selected a coat to fit him and Sullivan did the same.
+The Davenport girl put on the smallest.
+
+"Gimme a hat," said Sullivan.
+
+Again the girl departed and presently returned with an odd collection of
+old felt hats of various styles. Now, fully arrayed, Sullivan felt his
+way gingerly to the door. A pale gleam filtered through the grating. The
+bolt was shot back and Ralston found himself in the fresh morning air.
+
+A white, misty light filled the sky like a diaphanous, pulsating sheet.
+If you looked for it it was gone, but as you watched the opposite houses
+you knew it to be there. Night was struggling with the day, and the
+cohorts of darkness were barely in the ascendant. The tang of the breeze
+told the story, filtering in from the river. But the lamps showed
+brighter than ever. On his box the cabman slumbered, while his steed did
+likewise in cabhorse fashion.
+
+Sullivan reached up and shook the man roughly. Across the end of the
+street heavy vans were making their way eastward, filling the little
+niche in which they stood with a deafening clatter.
+
+"Drive up Broadway," ordered Sullivan.
+
+The cabman removed his hat, ran his finger around the sweatband and
+replaced it on his head.
+
+"Hully gee!" he repeated reminiscently. Several yanks were required to
+hoist the horse into a position appropriate to locomotion, and when
+action was achieved the animal started as if walking on eggs. Sullivan
+and Ralston took Miss Davenport in her black overcoat between them.
+Ralston could not tell whether the sky above was white or blue.
+
+Slowly they dragged out into Barrow Street and turned into Green Street.
+Once or twice they passed a lonely pedestrian or a stray policeman. Soon
+they saw the lights of the elevated structure at Jefferson Market and
+caught the moving windows of the trains. A line of truck wagons was
+moving slowly southward, the drivers sleeping, unmindful of their route.
+Milk wagons jangling from Hudson Avenue added a livelier note. There was
+a smell of morning everywhere.
+
+Suddenly Ralston knew he saw white and not blue above the housetops.
+The thought filled him with a nervous anxiety to lose no time, and he
+pushed up the manhole and ordered the cabby to make haste.
+
+"What do you think I am--a bloomin' steamboat?" inquired the cabby in
+sleepy wrath.
+
+They wheeled into Sixth Avenue and Ralston noticed that the surface cars
+which passed already had some passengers. Men were standing in twos and
+threes upon the street corners. Most of them were smoking clay pipes. He
+wondered what manner of men went to work at this hour. They passed
+Fourteenth Street and found many persons walking westward--at nightfall
+they would plod back. It was a long, long way to go to work. No one had
+spoken in the cab as yet.
+
+"Funny how small the city seems at night," said the girl.
+
+Although there was a germ of psychological truth in the remark, Ralston
+could think of nothing in reply. He had often noticed the same
+phenomenon. Of an afternoon, with Fifth Avenue crowded to the curbs, the
+distance from his club to Forty-second Street appeared immense. By night
+it seemed no more than a block or two. Now, as they rode northward in
+the graying light, the distances which his mental cyclometer ticked off
+seemed small and their pace inordinately slow.
+
+Sullivan had maintained a consistent silence. The Masterson affair had
+effectually put a quietus upon his belligerency. Ralston was overwhelmed
+with sleep. There was a weight behind each of his eyeballs that seemed
+forcing them downward and outward, and the humming in the back of his
+head had returned. A faint odor of violets and rice powder emanated from
+the overcoat beside him. Now and again the small head, with its piles
+of brown hair and old slouch hat, would begin to incline gradually and
+gently in his direction, only to be raised again when the brim of the
+hat touched his shoulder. He leaned his own head in the corner and
+closed his eyes.
+
+Instantly a heavy curtain, warm, fragrant, deliciously soothing, seemed
+drawn over him. He found himself talking to Ellen in Miss Evarts's
+drawing-room. He felt again the elation of his appointment, the
+gratefulness of appreciation. The man was painting in his name on the
+blackboard--the man in the yellow-and-black sweater, and he heard the
+crowd spelling it out and repeating it. Once again he experienced the
+thrill it had occasioned him the night before. He realized anew the
+extent to which his selection had brought him into the public eye--the
+influence which the success or failure of his appointment would have
+upon the Administration.
+
+The President had been already severely criticised for giving important
+places to comparatively young and untried men--men of the silk-stocking
+class--and the President had but a doubtful hold upon the people.
+Several canards had been started which, in the face of recent
+socialistic propaganda, had made considerable headway. The yellow
+journals were denouncing the war as imperialistic, as an excuse for an
+ambitious executive to play the part of a Cæsar or a Napoleon. They
+charged that he was surrounding himself with the rich and powerful, and
+their sons. He was contrasted with Lincoln and Jefferson. In a word, the
+Administration was in a ticklish position.
+
+Then upon Ralston's wearied brain flashed the picture of his meeting
+with Colonel Duer; the tawdry, tarnished environment of his search for
+the worthless Steadman; his arrival at "The Martin" at two in the
+morning; his open solicitation of a woman's acquaintance, and the
+consequent free fight in which, so far as the onlookers knew, he might
+have killed her companion; then, and most unpleasant of all, his flight,
+bearing away his victim with him. How could he explain _that_? Why, the
+thing must have been wired to every morning paper in the country. He
+could see the headlines:
+
+      ASSISTANT SECRETARY OF NAVY KILLS MAN
+
+      FIGHT AROSE OVER WOMAN IN RESTAURANT
+
+      A NEW SCANDAL FOR THE PRESIDENT TO HUSH UP
+
+He shuddered at the thought of it. If he gave himself up and declared
+that he had struck in self-defense, how could he explain having dashed
+away with the woman in a hansom? Where had he gone? _Why_ had he gone
+there? His lips were sealed. He _could_ make no statement without
+publicly avowing the whole object of his night's work--the necessity for
+finding Steadman, and Steadman's relations with Ellen. He saw column
+after column of interviews with himself, real and imaginary. The most
+sacred passages of Ellen's life would be made public property, dressed
+up to suit the editor's fancy, and sold on the corner for a penny.
+
+The possibility sickened him. There was nothing to be done but to resign
+and go away. In that way only could the Administration be relieved from
+a most embarrassing situation, and by no other means could Ellen be
+saved from the humiliation incident to a truthful explanation of the
+affair. Then, too, he must continue his search. He could not give it up
+now. He must find Steadman, even while a fugitive from justice himself.
+He _would_ find him.
+
+He opened his eyes. They were still following Sixth Avenue beneath the
+elevated tracks. It had grown brighter. Sullivan had lighted a cigar.
+Ralston found himself trembling with excitement. A sweat had broken out
+all over him. Across the way, on the opposite corner, he saw the lights
+of a telegraph office, and he raised the manhole and told the cabby to
+stop.
+
+"What's up?" inquired Sullivan, removing his cigar.
+
+"I've got to send a telegram," said Ralston unsteadily.
+
+Sullivan looked at him with suspicion.
+
+"You ain't givin' me the double cross, eh?"
+
+"I give you my word I'm not," replied Ralston. "It's only a matter of
+private business."
+
+"Guess it can wait, can't it?"
+
+Ralston smiled in spite of himself. He wished he could tell Sullivan the
+purport of this telegram which gave him so much anxiety. Simultaneously
+it occurred to him that it was undesirable to leave the cab even for a
+moment Sullivan might take it into his head to disappear.
+
+"Oh, well," he retorted, "it doesn't entirely suit my book to allow you
+a chance to side-step me either, so we'll settle it by letting Miss
+Davenport send the wire for me. In that way we can each continue in the
+other's company. Much more agreeable, of course. Miss Davenport, may I
+ask you to get me a blank from inside?"
+
+The girl sprang down and quickly returned with a sheaf of blanks and a
+pencil. Ralston scribbled on his knee a hasty message:
+
+      To the President, White House, Washington. Am forced,
+      after all, to decline appointment. See morning papers.
+      Am writing fully.
+
+      RALSTON.
+
+He handed her half a dollar and she reëntered the office.
+
+Now Miss Davenport was a young person wise in her generation. She had
+seen many men in many situations, and she realized that the man who had
+handed her this particular telegram was in a condition bordering on
+collapse. Had she seen fit to use a sporting term she would have said
+that Ralston was "groggy" with nervousness and excitement. In addition
+she was not devoid of the usual amount of feminine curiosity. At any
+rate, her first move was to read the telegram.
+
+"He's crazy!" she exclaimed under her breath. "Why, he doesn't even know
+whether they got his name! And Jim's all right." She turned the message
+over in her hand.
+
+"I guess that telegram _can_ wait. There won't be anything in the
+papers. The presses are locked at one o'clock."
+
+"Say," she remarked to the sleepy operator, "what's the rate to
+Washington, D. C.?"
+
+"Twenty-five for ten words, and two cents a word over."
+
+"Change that for me, will you? Let me have some coppers?"
+
+The man fished out the small change and went back to his accounts.
+
+Miss Davenport slipped the paper into her pocket and returned to the
+cab.
+
+"Nineteen cents change," she said, handing it to Ralston.
+
+"Where to?" asked the cabby mechanically.
+
+"West Forty-fifth Street," said Sullivan.
+
+They started on. The street lamps were fast paling beneath the dawn. At
+Thirty-third Street and Broadway a newsboy was hopping on the cars and
+shouting his items. A strange thrill of determination had seized
+Ralston. The die was cast now. There was nothing more to consider.
+
+"Here's your _Morning Journal_!" cried the boy as the cab swung by. "New
+Assistant Secretary of the Navy. Twelfth Regiment starts with a full
+quota of officers!" He waved his sheets at them.
+
+Inside the cab Ralston set his teeth.
+
+"I'll make it a full quota!" he muttered.
+
+They turned down Thirty-third Street into Fifth Avenue.
+
+"Look here," said Sullivan suddenly, "all I do is to show him to you,
+see? Understand, I don't get into no mix-up myself! My job ends when I
+give you the pass."
+
+"All right," said Ralston. "Just show him to me. That's all I ask."
+
+"All right," repeated Sullivan.
+
+They passed Forty-second Street and turned into Forty-fifth, just as the
+lights in the crosstown cars had been put out.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+The house before which they stopped was an old-fashioned brownstone
+front. A brownstone flight of steps with a heavy brownstone balustrade
+and huge, carved newel post of the same depressing material led to a
+pair of ponderous stained doors tight shut with the air of finality
+possible only to a brownstone side street. The shades on the four rows
+of windows of this impenetrable mansion were smoothly drawn. At the
+grated window in the area the lower half of a bird cage, just visible
+beneath the screen, was the only indication of occupancy. The whole
+aspect of the place was that of somnolent respectability. One could
+imagine the door being swung wide, the rug shaken, the broom making a
+fictitious passage through the vestibule, the curtains going up unevenly
+in the front parlor, the shades raised in the area, the canary thrilling
+in response to the shaking of the kitchen range, and _Paterfamilias_
+coming down the steps at about eight twenty-five in a square Derby hat,
+to go to his real estate office. This is what occurs at four homes out
+of five in this locality every morning from the first day of October to
+the first day of July.
+
+But no eye within the last ten years had beheld a shade raised in this
+particular establishment. The census taker had never entered its doors.
+No woman had ever passed its threshold. No child had ever played within
+its halls. Once a year a load of wines was deposited there and once a
+month a grocer's wagon paused outside. The coal was put in during the
+summer--forty tons, C. O. D. and five per cent off. The milkman was the
+only matutinal visitor, and the milkman left his wares upon the flagging
+of the servants' entrance. At eleven o'clock a colored man emerged from
+the area and departed in the direction of Sixth Avenue with a basket
+upon his arm. In half an hour he returned. This was the chief occurrence
+of the day. At seven in the evening two hansom cabs drew up before the
+door to allow four men to enter the house--also by the area. That was
+all, except that the ice wagon stopped daily, but the colored man took
+the ice off the hooks at the door.
+
+The visitors at the house arrived in cabs between the hours of eight and
+twelve P.M., and departed between the latter hour and five in the
+morning. There are forty similar _ménages_ north of Thirty-third Street
+and east of Long Acre Square.
+
+"He's in here," said Sullivan. "But I ain't goin' inside."
+
+"You're not, eh?" remarked Ralston. "Very well, we stay here together
+then until he comes out--and then you go down to headquarters with
+_me_."
+
+"Look here, Sackett," whined Sullivan, "how can I go in? They'd see me
+and know I'd sold 'em out. I can't do it. It would finish me. Don't be
+unreasonable."
+
+"Well, how do I know he's here?" asked Ralston. "Don't be unreasonable
+yourself."
+
+"Well, I _know_ he's here," said Sullivan. "I tell you what I'll do.
+I'll go into the hall, and when you're satisfied I ain't givin' you the
+double-cross, I'll slip out. Suppose I showed you Steadman, that would
+satisfy you, wouldn't it?"
+
+"It certainly would," said Ralston.
+
+Sullivan looked up and down the street and then clambered out in a
+disjointed and rheumatic fashion.
+
+"I'm sorry, Miss Davenport, I can't let you have the cab," said Ralston.
+"I shall need it--I hope."
+
+Sullivan was on the sidewalk, looking at the house.
+
+The girl suddenly seized Ralston's hand.
+
+"Mr. Ralston," she said, "be careful while you are in that house. Don't
+mention a word of what I've told you about Sullivan. They're a reckless
+lot. Watch yourself and them. Play it easy, and good luck to you. Some
+time, I hope, I'll see you again."
+
+Ralston pressed her hand.
+
+He climbed down.
+
+"Where to?" mumbled the cabby.
+
+"Stay right _here_ until I come out--if it's six hours!" directed
+Ralston.
+
+The dawn was flushing the chocolate-colored fronts before them and a
+milk wagon was working gradually down the block. Ralston felt weak in
+the knees, but he pounded his feet on the pavement and stepped quickly
+after Sullivan, who had started up the steps.
+
+"I needn't warn you that there must be no funny business, Sullivan,"
+said Ralston, as the other fumbled in his trousers pocket. "Our bargain
+holds. Your life for mine and Steadman's."
+
+"You needn't worry," replied Sullivan. "Homicide isn't in our business.
+I wish I could turn Steadman over to you bound hand and foot, but I
+can't. You've got _him_ to deal with. The rest is easy. The gang's
+pretty near through with him. But you've got to handle _him_ yourself."
+
+Sullivan inserted the key and turned the handle of the door, which swung
+open as if on greased hinges.
+
+As Ralston crossed the threshold it occurred to him forcibly that
+although the house in which he now stood was not over three blocks from
+his lodgings, and that his round-the-clock chase had brought him, like a
+man lost in the woods, back almost to his starting point, the fact that
+he had actually struck Steadman's trail at all, to say nothing of having
+run him to earth, was in itself no less than a miracle. Fate had
+certainly favored him upon the one hand, if it had dashed his hopes upon
+the other. He was the same Ralston that had jumped into the same cab
+just around the corner some seven hours before, but in that short
+passage of time the current of his existence had gone swirling off in an
+entirely unexpected direction. The hopes and ambitions of the evening
+had faded to fair dreams lingering on after a disappointing awakening.
+Apart from his utter exhaustion a pall had fallen upon his spirit--he
+had become undervitalized physically and psychically. He did not care
+what might happen before he regained the street, and he knew that almost
+anything might happen. The gamblers had been in an ugly mood for a long
+time. Yet he knew that his hold on Sullivan, fictitious as it was, was
+for the time being a sure one. Moreover, the experiences of the night
+had not lessened his confidence in his capacity to handle any new
+situation as it might arise.
+
+Sullivan now addressed himself to the inner door, which opened as easily
+as its predecessor, and an old-fashioned hall disclosed itself before
+them. On the right a pair of heavy _portières_ concealed the entrance to
+what was, or at least some time had been, the drawing-room. The usual
+steep flight of carpeted walnut stairs ascended to the usual narrow
+hallway on the second floor. A massive walnut hatrack supported a huge
+mirror and a collection of Inverness coats and tall hats. A bronze gas
+chandelier burned brightly, and a colored man lay extended at full
+length upon the floor with his head resting upon the bottom stair. The
+air was close and heavy and filled with the thin blue smoke of distant
+cigars. Apart from the audible repose of the negro the house was as
+silent as a New England Sabbath morning.
+
+Sullivan strode toward the recumbent figure upon the floor and
+administered a stout kick, at which the sleeper suddenly raised his head
+and drew up his knees.
+
+"Here you, Marcus, wake up!" growled Sullivan. "Where's Mr. Farrer?"
+
+The negro rubbed his eyes and gazed stupidly at the two figures before
+him without replying.
+
+"Where's Mr. Farrer?" repeated Sullivan.
+
+Marcus pointed over his shoulders and up the stairs.
+
+"He's in de back room, boss."
+
+"Who's up there?"
+
+"Jes' a single game--five gen'lemen."
+
+"How long they been playin'?"
+
+"Couple days, Ah reckon."
+
+"How long have you been asleep?"
+
+"Couple days, Ah reckon, boss," repeated Marcus.
+
+"Is Mr. Steadman up there?"
+
+"He de gen'leman they calls Mr. X?" asked Marcus with more interest.
+
+"I think so," answered Sullivan.
+
+"Yes, sir, he's up dere. Say, boss, what day is this?" asked Marcus.
+"Sunday, ain't it? We began playin' Satudy, but Ah reckon Ah done got
+'fused 'bout de time."
+
+But Sullivan did not reply. Instead he turned to Ralston and said:
+
+"Look here, I don't see any way out of my having to introduce you to the
+game. After I've done that you'll have to manage the thing for
+yourself."
+
+He started laboriously upstairs. Marcus returned to his previous picture
+of elegant repose. At the top of the first flight they turned and,
+passing along the hall, ascended another. The smoke grew thicker as they
+progressed. The only light came from the gas brackets, for the skylight
+over the wall was draped with a sheet of black cloth. At the top of the
+second flight Ralston caught the faint click of chips.
+
+"It's up to you," said Sullivan, "if you want to go in."
+
+"I'll take the responsibility," answered Ralston, but his heart began to
+beat faster, a phenomenon he attributed to the fact that there was no
+elevator.
+
+At the top of the last flight they paused. The sound of chips and low
+voices came distinctly from beneath the door of the room in the back.
+Then followed a pause, during which some one cursed his luck loudly.
+
+Sullivan pushed open the door and Ralston entered at his elbow. At first
+he could see nothing, owing to the thick haze that hung like a cloud
+throughout the room. Then he made out the figures of five men in their
+shirt-sleeves seated at a medium-sized table. These started to their
+feet at the interruption, and one of them, larger than the others, cried
+out:
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+"It's only me--little, tiny me," said Sullivan with a laugh. "I've
+brought a new come-on that thinks he knows the game. Can you let him sit
+in?"
+
+Ralston was watching Sullivan narrowly for the first sign of betrayal,
+but it was clear that Sullivan was living up to his bargain.
+
+A drawling voice came from the table. "Five's the gambler's game--we're
+nearly through, anyhow."
+
+The tall man hesitated.
+
+"We're nearly through, as Mr. X says," he remarked, not impolitely.
+"It's quite late. Of course, if you're a friend of Sullivan's----"
+
+"Oh, let me take a stack. I've made a night of it and I want to get my
+bait back. I guess I've still got the price," said Ralston. He pulled a
+roll of bills from his pocket.
+
+"Well," said the other, "gamblers' rules. This is an open game. I'm
+afraid he's entitled to come in. Goin', Sullivan? Well, so-long. Close
+the door after you."
+
+"So-long, Sackett," said Sullivan.
+
+"Good-by!" said Ralston, with emphasis. "We're quits, aren't we?"
+
+"Sure," replied Sullivan.
+
+"Let me present you to the company," said the tall man. "My name's
+Farrer. I guess you've heard of me. These are my friends, Messrs. Brown,
+Jones, and Robinson, and Mr. X. Your own name is Mr. ----?"
+
+"Sackett," said Ralston.
+
+"All right, Mr. Sackett. We were just about goin' to pull out, but we'll
+hold the game open for you for a few minutes, just to give the boys a
+chance to even up. No, we're not playing dollar limit. The lid's off.
+But just out of respect for the cloth we don't go above a thousand at
+one clip. Take a full stack? Amounts to exactly forty-nine hundred and
+seventy-five. Brown, a thousand; yellow, five hundred; blue, one
+hundred; red, fifty; white, twenty-five and the blind."
+
+"Thank you," said Ralston, with a slight leap of the heart, as Farrer
+pushed over the little pile of ivory counters. "If you don't object I'll
+take off my overcoat for luck."
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+Ralston removed his dress coat and seized the opportunity for a rapid
+glance around the room. Farrer had retaken his seat and the others were
+moving over to make room for an extra chair. The curtains, tightly
+drawn, repelled the eddying smoke, which slowly drew toward the
+fireplace.
+
+Ralston had no time to study the men about him. He had recognized
+Steadman immediately, but it was apparent that Steadman himself was in
+no condition to recognize anybody. The boy sat limply in his chair with
+his head down and his eyes rolled toward the ceiling, apparently
+incapable of speech or action, yet suddenly returning to life and to
+complete lucidity at irregular intervals. Farrer he knew by reputation.
+The other three men were probably professional card sharps masquerading
+under the guise of men about town. Of what he should eventually do
+Ralston had no clear idea. It was obvious that the gang were not yet
+through with Steadman, and, moreover, that until Steadman wanted to go
+away he would stay where he was. He must fight for time and await his
+opportunity.
+
+Farrer sat with his back to the door, the two chairs to his left being
+occupied by the gentlemen introduced as "Brown" and "Jones." Next to
+them and facing Farrer came Steadman, with "Robinson" between him and
+Ralston, who sat immediately to the right of Farrer and filled the last
+seat. He thus had one of the most advantageous places at the table.
+
+"Deal out," said Farrer to the man on his left. "It's getting late. Ante
+up, boys. I have a hunch that something is coming my way this time."
+
+The dealer dealt rapidly round, using, Ralston was particular to notice,
+the same cards which had been laid on the table when he entered. It was
+clear that a pack "stacked" for five could not be used for six, and
+Ralston, picking up his hand and finding he had three jacks pat, pushed
+in his white chip.
+
+"I'll draw cards," said he quietly. All came in except Steadman, who
+threw his cards down upon the table with an oath.
+
+The dealer handed the remaining two men three cards each, Ralston took
+one, Farrer three, and the dealer one. Although our novice did not
+improve his hand, he raised a fifty-dollar bet made by the man upon his
+right by a blue chip. Farrer dropped out and the dealer raised Ralston
+another blue. The other two men dropped, and Ralston "saw" the dealer,
+who threw down a busted flush.
+
+"Good work, old man!" exclaimed Farrer. "You're no sucker. Deal for Mr.
+X, there, Robinson."
+
+"I can deal for myself, thanks," remarked Steadman, and indeed he
+managed to do so surprisingly well.
+
+This time Ralston held nothing and declined to play, while Steadman won
+a small amount with two large pair. Each man had lying before him a pile
+of greenbacks held in place by a heavy paper weight of brass surmounted
+by an ash receiver, Steadman's pile being composed almost entirely of
+one-thousand-dollar bills.
+
+Presently Ralston found himself holding three queens on the deal and
+filled on the draw with a pair of nines. The cards had been running
+low, and he had already won in the neighborhood of twelve or thirteen
+hundred dollars. The three queens following his three jacks struck him
+as rather a coincidence, and betting merely a white chip he watched the
+others to see what would happen. To his surprise all dropped out but
+Steadman, who had drawn but a single card and who raised him a blue
+chip. Ralston now raised in his turn a like amount, and Steadman, there
+now being nearly five hundred dollars on the table, raised him a yellow.
+But Ralston, feeling confident of his position, pushed in a brown--the
+first thousand-dollar bet he had ever made. The gamblers were watching
+them with interest.
+
+"I win," said Steadman, shoving over a brown chip and throwing down a
+flush. "All sky blue."
+
+"Sorry," answered Ralston, "three ladies and a little pair."
+
+"Curse the luck," growled Steadman. "One more hand and I quit."
+
+"Quit?" cried one of the men. "Why, the game's young yet. Nobody's won
+or lost anything to speak of. Don't go _now_! Mr. Sackett wants to play
+and he's got a lot of our money. We're entitled to our revenge."
+
+"I didn't ask him to play," mumbled Steadman. "I'm sick of the game and
+I don't feel just right. I feel sort of sick. I'm only goin' to play one
+more hand."
+
+"All right! Jack pot!" cried Farrer cheerfully. "It's a house rule. Jack
+pots on all full houses containing the royal family. A 'palace pot' we
+call it. Give us a new pack."
+
+One of the men leaned back and reached down a new unopened pack from a
+side table. The cards they had been playing with were red. These were
+blue and the revenue stamp was unbroken. But a new pack on a
+declaration that the game was going to end struck Ralston as curiously
+unnecessary. The air in the room was beginning to make his head swim,
+and a glance at his watch disclosed that it was half after five. It was
+time for him to get Steadman away, but how to do it?
+
+"Hundred-dollar ante," said Farrer, shuffling the cards ostentatiously
+and dealing himself a jack. They each put in a blue. Steadman was
+helplessly fumbling his chips, counting and recounting them. Silence
+fell upon the table as Farrer tossed the cards accurately to each
+player.
+
+As the last cards were being dealt Steadman's fifth card struck his
+glass, balanced, and fell slowly over. It was a deuce of hearts.
+
+"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Farrer apologetically.
+
+"Hang you!" escaped from one of the others, and Ralston saw that the
+man's hands were trembling.
+
+"I won't take that card," said Steadman, awaking suddenly as out of a
+trance. "It's no good. Gimme another!"
+
+Farrer flushed.
+
+"I'm sorry, you'll have to take it. It's on the deal, not the draw. The
+rule is as old as the game."
+
+"I say I won't take it," snarled Steadman. "I haven't seen my hand. I
+won't take it. I'll stay out, but I won't pick up that card--it's no
+good." He gave a silly laugh.
+
+One of the other men sprang to his feet.
+
+"You've got to take it," he cried. "You can't refuse it. You've got to
+abide by the rules."
+
+"Sit down, you fool!" shouted Farrer, almost losing control of himself.
+"Who's running this game? Mr. Steadman can't have another card. He can
+look at his hand, and if he wants to stay out he can, but he's got to
+play the cards he's got. Pick up your hand, old man. Don't let's get
+upset over a little thing like that. Why, it may be the very card you
+want."
+
+But Steadman's obstinacy was aroused.
+
+"I won't do either," said he. "_You_ can't make me play. I can stay out,
+can't I? I can forfeit my ante. That's my own business, ain't it? Well,
+I'll watch you fellers play for once. What's a blue chip!"
+
+"You fool!" broke in one of the others. "Why don't you look at your
+cards? Don't throw away a hundred dollars like that! Here, if you're so
+proud, I'll look at 'em for you--and stay out."
+
+He reached for the cards, but Steadman struck his hand away.
+
+"Touch those cards if you dare!" he shouted, his eyes glaring. "Leave my
+cards alone!"
+
+"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" exclaimed Farrer soothingly. "Of course, Mr. X
+can refuse to play if he likes. It's his privilege. Won't you change
+your mind? Well, take out your chip--nobody objects. Count it a dead
+hand."
+
+"My chip stays in and I stay out," muttered Steadman.
+
+Ralston saw a furtive look pass between two of the others. Farrer dealt
+the remaining cards and picked up his hand, grunting as he looked at his
+cards. The man next him swore softly.
+
+"I can't open it," he growled.
+
+"Nothin' doin'," said the second gambler.
+
+Steadman remained staring at his deuce of hearts.
+
+"By me!" remarked the third gambler. Then Ralston picked up his hand.
+He felt as he used to feel when under the student lamp in his college
+room he had calculated the chances of filling a bobtail straight as
+against a four flush. The others were watching him eagerly. Four jacks
+closely backed one another in his hand. He could hardly suppress a grin.
+
+"Ye-es, I'll open it," he remarked hesitantly. He toyed with the yellows
+and the browns. Then his fingers slipped across the pile. "I'll let you
+all in easy," he said affably, "for a little white seed."
+
+The gambler across the table bit his lip.
+
+"Well, I'm in!" exclaimed Farrer with an affectation of
+light-heartedness. "It's just about my limit."
+
+The other three pushed in their chips without comment. Each of them took
+one card. Ralston took one. Farrer took four.
+
+"Ah!" sighed the latter, half to himself.
+
+"Well, this looks pretty good to me," said the first gambler with a
+slight smile, pushing in a brown chip.
+
+The second gambler pursed up his lips and shrugged his shoulders. "Suits
+me, too," he remarked good-naturedly, "I'll up you a thousand."
+
+He contributed two brown chips with great deliberation. Steadman was
+giggling foolishly.
+
+"Where would I have been?" he gibbered. "The tall grass wouldn't have
+hidden me."
+
+The third gambler now came into the game. It appeared that he, also,
+thought highly of his hand, for he raised both his comrades by a brown
+chip.
+
+"One, two--and back again!" he murmured. "I've got you pinched. Only six
+thousand in the pot--and four aces will take it all! Come right in, Mr.
+Sackett, the water's warm." They watched him covetously.
+
+"Oh, I don't know," answered Ralston with deliberation. "I have one or
+two cards myself. They look pretty good to _me_! But then I'm not used
+to the game. I wonder if you'd stand a raise." He picked up four brown
+chips and counted them slowly. They eyed him, hardly breathing. Then
+Ralston laid the chips back on the table.
+
+"No," said he regretfully. "It's too high for me. Here are my openers,"
+and he threw down his hand face upward on the table.
+
+"Four j-jacks!" stammered Steadman, rubbing his eyes. "Four j-jacks!"
+
+The others, with the exception of Farrer, had arisen and stood glowering
+at Ralston.
+
+"What's this?" exclaimed Farrer harshly.
+
+"What's your game?" cried another.
+
+"Nothing, gentlemen. I lie down. That's all. It's my privilege."
+
+The gambler ground his teeth and placed his cards on the table.
+
+"Aren't you going to finish the game?" asked Ralston with elaborate
+sarcasm.
+
+"Of course we are," shot back Farrer. "Only to see a man do a damn fool
+thing like that is enough to bust up any game." He looked at his cards.
+
+"I'm out," he added shortly.
+
+The first gambler did not seem to regard his hand any longer with favor,
+for he "dropped" immediately. So also did the second, and the third drew
+the chips toward him, no cards having been disclosed.
+
+Steadman was still giggling feebly.
+
+"I say," he mumbled again, "you _are_ easy! Four jacks! O my! O----"
+
+"Do you think so?" inquired Ralston politely, as he reached quickly
+across the table and, picking up the first gambler's hand, turned it
+over. The man grabbed for the cards, but he was an instant too late.
+Four aces lay under the gaslight.
+
+"Not so easy, eh?" continued Ralston. "Pretty good judgment, it seems to
+me. I'll have my ante back, if you please," and he replaced one of the
+blue chips on his own pile. "It requires more nerve to lay down four
+aces than four jacks."
+
+The men stared at him without speaking, and Farrer arose abruptly.
+
+"I supposed I was in a respectable game," he announced with severity.
+"If you gentlemen," turning to Ralston and Steadman, "will step
+downstairs I will adjust matters with you. As for you," addressing the
+other three, "make yourselves scarce and never come into my house
+again." They moved slowly toward the door.
+
+"Don't worry on our account, Mr. Farrer," remarked Ralston suavely. "I'm
+sure the matter was merely a coincidence. Seeing a man lie down on four
+jacks is enough to account for any apparent little irregularity." But,
+before he had finished, the three, closely followed by Farrer, had
+departed. Then Ralston looked over to where Steadman was sitting with a
+smile of utter lassitude.
+
+"We were well out of that, I fancy," said he.
+
+"I wonder what _I_ had?" answered Steadman dreamily. He fumbled
+unsteadily for his hand and turned it over card by card.
+
+The first was a deuce of spades.
+
+"Oh!" he remarked, "a pair of 'em, anyhow."
+
+The next was a deuce of diamonds, and the last a deuce of clubs.
+
+Steadman looked stupidly around the table.
+
+"Four little twos!" he muttered. "And _you_ had four knaves and he had
+four aces. I guess there's a special Providence looking out for _me_.
+Say, what won that pot, anyway?"
+
+Farrer suddenly reappeared at the door.
+
+"Here's your money, gentlemen," he remarked, counting the chips in front
+of each of them and throwing down the appropriate number of bills.
+"Sorry to have the game broken up in such a way, but these sharps get in
+everywhere. I hope you won't mention the incident. I have a very fine
+line of patrons and nothing of the kind has ever occurred before."
+
+As he turned away Steadman raised his eyes and looked the gambler full
+in the face.
+
+"Farrer," said he, "you've robbed me--you and your gang. Some time I'll
+make you pay for it, you--thief!" Then the fire died as suddenly as it
+had come, his head dropped forward listlessly, his eyes rolled
+ceiling-ward, and he fell to mumbling and muttering to himself. Ralston
+sprang to his side, as Farrer slid through the door.
+
+"I'm Dick Ralston," he said. "Don't you recognize me?"
+
+Steadman gazed at him stolidly.
+
+"Rals'on?" he muttered. "Rals'on? So you are! I guess you are. Why not?
+What of it?"
+
+He put his head on his arms and leaned them against the table top.
+
+Ralston grasped him by the shoulder and shook him roughly.
+
+"Pull yourself together!" he cried. "You must get out of here quickly."
+He shook Steadman again.
+
+"Don't you understand?" he said sharply. "Your regiment leaves in an
+hour. _Your regiment!_ Your company!"
+
+Steadman looked at him dully. A burned-out cigarette hung from his under
+lip by its own cohesive ability.
+
+"Rats!" he muttered. "I've chucked all that. Regiment can go for all of
+me unless it wants to wait."
+
+"You fool!" shouted Ralston. "Don't you see it's the end of you if you
+don't go!"
+
+"The end's come already! I'm a dead one now!"
+
+"Get up there!" returned Ralston. "I'll put you at the head of your
+company in forty minutes. Get up, I say."
+
+"Don't be an ass, Rals'on!" snarled Steadman. "I'll do as I choose. I
+tell you it's too late!"
+
+"It's nothing of the kind. Why, man, your uniform's all ready for you.
+They haven't started yet. Buck up!"
+
+"You seem awful interested, it strikes me."
+
+"Never mind that. Just be thankful some one cared enough to give you the
+tip. Come on now."
+
+"I tell you it's too late. How the hell can I go--to _war_?" Steadman
+laughed in a sickly fashion.
+
+Ralston's heart sank and his gorge rose. Had he sacrificed his future
+for a cad like this? And was he going to fail besides?
+
+"You miserable snipe!" he cried, for an instant utterly losing control
+of himself.
+
+"You shan't--insult me!" chattered Steadman, rising unsteadily to his
+feet. In a flash Ralston perceived the possibilities of the situation.
+
+"You're a coward, Steadman!" he cried. "A welcher!"
+
+Steadman's eyes glared wildly. "I'll kill you for that!" he gasped.
+
+"Come on down and fight it out then, if you're a man," sneered Ralston,
+turning and making for the head of the stairs. Steadman groped his way
+after him along the wall.
+
+"Come on, you welcher!" taunted Ralston.
+
+With an inarticulate cry of anger, Steadman clasped the banisters and
+half slid, half stumbled to the entrance hall.
+
+"I'll fight you here!" he cried. "I'll kill you!"
+
+"No! No!" answered Ralston. "Outside."
+
+Marcus attempted to put on Steadman's coat, but the latter fought him
+angrily off. Then he staggered and nearly fell.
+
+"Oh, I'm sick!" he cried. "I can't see."
+
+"Catch him!" directed Ralston, springing to his side and guiding him
+across the threshold. They led him down the steps, hustled him across
+the sidewalk and into the hansom.
+
+"Where to?" inquired cabby automatically.
+
+"John McCullough's--drive like mad!" replied Ralston.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+"Keep away from me," muttered Steadman, as Ralston climbed into the cab
+beside him. "Keep away, or I'll kill you." His face had turned a livid
+yellow, and he lay limp against the cushions. The cabby started his
+horse round the corner into the avenue.
+
+"Steadman!" cried Ralston, sick at heart. "Steadman, old man! I
+apologize! I beg your pardon! Do you understand? I _apologize_. It was
+just a trick to get you out--away."
+
+"Ugh!" groaned the other.
+
+"Brace up! You'll be all right in a minute. All right--in a minute.
+Understand? Fit as a preacher!"
+
+"I don't know. I'm awfully sick!"
+
+They raced down the avenue in silence until, with a sharp turn, the
+hansom dashed into East Twenty-seventh Street and stopped with a lurch
+in front of a low red-brick house close to the corner.
+
+The clock on the corner church showed that he had less than an hour and
+a half as Ralston rushed to the steps and rang the bell. The door was
+almost instantly opened by a heavily built man with a pleasant Irish
+face.
+
+"Hello, Mr. Ralston!" he ejaculated.
+
+"Sh!" answered the other. "Get this man out quick and into the house.
+You've got to knock him into shape inside of ten minutes. He's at the
+end of a long one. Ten minutes, do you understand?"
+
+"Leave him to me," answered the matter-of-fact McCullough, then crossing
+to the cab, "Give me your arm, sir," he said to Steadman.
+
+"Leave me alone!" muttered Steadman.
+
+Without another word the Irishman put his arms around him, and, as if he
+were a child, lifted him to the ground, across the sidewalk, and into
+the house.
+
+Ralston followed and closed the door. Outside, the cabby fell asleep
+again and the horse stood with one hip six inches higher than the other
+and its head between its legs.
+
+"Hi there, Terry! Sthrip off the gent's clothes!"
+
+Another husky Irishman appeared from somewhere, and the two led Steadman
+into a sort of dressing room, where they speedily relieved him of his
+garments. Without a pause McCullough opened a glass door into a tiled
+passage at the end of which could be seen another door clouded with
+steam. First, however, he poured a teaspoonful of absinthe into the palm
+of his hand and held it to Steadman's face. "Snuff it up yer nose!" said
+he.
+
+Steadman seemed dazed. Like a half-resuscitated man he did as he was
+told, gagging and coughing.
+
+"Come here now," said Terry.
+
+Steadman walked quietly down the passage.
+
+"Only for a minute," said the bath man.
+
+He opened the door and shoved Steadman in, closing and locking it behind
+him.
+
+"That's all he needs," commented McCullough.
+
+"How long will you give him?"
+
+"Just five minutes. He didn't like the absinthe, did he?"
+
+Ralston laughed softly. He knew what twentieth century miracles
+McCullough could work.
+
+"Have you got a telephone?" he inquired.
+
+"Shure," answered Mac, leading the way to the office.
+
+Ralston lost no time in calling up the armory.
+
+"I want Clarence. Send him to the 'phone!"
+
+A wait of a couple of minutes followed.
+
+"Is that you, Clarence?"
+
+"Yassah."
+
+"Jump on a car and bring Mr. Steadman's uniform and valise to ---- East
+Twenty-seventh Street at once."
+
+When he returned to the passage Steadman was beating feebly on the glass
+door from the inside. Terry grinned and shook his head, holding up two
+fingers. The tortured one threw himself in agony into a steamer chair,
+only to leap instantly to his feet with an inaudible yell of pain.
+
+"Are you ready?" Terry inquired of his employer.
+
+"Shure."
+
+They threw open the door and each grabbed an arm of their victim,
+dragging him down the passage into the dressing room. Another door
+opened into a room in which was a large tank. Without ceremony the two
+Irishmen swung their glistening patient off the edge and into the water.
+Steadman shrieked, choked and splashed helplessly.
+
+"Down wit' him!" cried McCullough, and they forced him beneath the
+surface.
+
+"Ag'in!"
+
+Down he went.
+
+"Now up!" and they lifted him bodily up on to the floor once more, and
+yanked him streaming into the dressing room. Steadman's face was a
+bright red, but he walked to a corner, while the two Irishmen with two
+little towels gently blotted the water from his back, sides, and arms.
+His legs they left to take care of themselves.
+
+"Ready there!" cried McCullough, giving Steadman a sharp blow that sent
+him staggering across the room.
+
+"Back again!" yelled Terry, punching his victim in the chest with his
+open hand and sending him reeling toward McCullough.
+
+Then they threw themselves upon him, slapping him, banging him from side
+to side, pulling his ears, arms and nose until he holloed for mercy,
+tossing him from one to the other, and swinging him at full length by
+his hands and feet. Finally, they flung him helpless, red and gasping
+for breath, upon a table. Once more they slapped him until he glowed
+like a lobster, and then rubbed him down with alcohol.
+
+"On with his clothes!" shouted Ralston. "How do you feel, Jack, old
+man?"
+
+"All right!" replied Steadman weakly, with a grin. "How they murdered
+me!"
+
+At this moment the street bell rang and a middle-aged negro appeared
+with a valise, tin box, and chamois-covered sword.
+
+"Why, it's old Clarence!" ejaculated Steadman.
+
+The negro undid the valise and took out the olive-drab khaki field
+uniform. In a trice he had buckled and buttoned the delinquent officer
+into it. From the tin box came a campaign hat. Steadman fastened on the
+sword himself. There were tears of feeble excitement in his eyes.
+
+"Are you sure it's not too late?" he asked anxiously.
+
+"I've taken my oath to get you there," answered Ralston.
+
+"By George! You're a good fellow!" repeated Steadman. He held out his
+hand. "You've saved my reputation--I might almost say--my life."
+
+Ralston took the hand held out to him, the hand only a few moments
+before raised against him in anger. It was quite warm. McCullough had
+done his bit well.
+
+"You weren't yourself. You didn't realize--" he began, and stopped. The
+room swam before his eyes, and he groped for a chair. With the partial
+accomplishment of his object, and the consequent physical and mental
+relaxation, the fatigue of the pursuit and the nervous strain which he
+had been under took possession of him. He found the chair and sank into
+it, shutting out the light with his hand. Steadman called McCullough,
+who quickly brought him something to drink. Somewhat revived, Ralston
+staggered to his feet eager to escape from the warmth of the overheated
+room and to finish his task.
+
+"Come along, Steadman. We haven't much time. Less than an hour."
+
+"Poor old chap, you're done up!"
+
+"No, no; I'm all right. We must be getting along."
+
+"But we don't leave, you say, until seven!"
+
+"I know, but we must be getting along."
+
+"Where?"
+
+Ralston hesitated.
+
+"I'll tell you outside." He shuffled toward the door. Steadman followed.
+
+On the steps he turned toward Ralston inquiringly.
+
+"Ellen has been waiting," said the latter in a low voice, looking away.
+
+"What do you mean? Does she know?" asked Steadman in a whisper.
+
+"I don't know how much," replied Ralston. "She feared you were going to
+lose your chance--that you'd be done for, and asked me to try and look
+you up. She--she cares for you, I think."
+
+Steadman uttered a groan.
+
+"Oh, I'm a brute," he muttered.
+
+He looked anything but a brute in his olive-drab uniform, campaign hat
+and shining sword.
+
+"Come along," said Ralston, grabbing him by the arm. They took their
+seats in the hansom.
+
+"Where to?" asked the cabby monotonously.
+
+"The Chilsworth," said Ralston.
+
+Once more the exhausted animal climbed wearily up Fifth Avenue. A touch
+of yellow sunlight was just gilding the housetops on the left, and the
+street stretched gray and solitary northward.
+
+"You say she's waiting?" Steadman asked nervously.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"For how long?"
+
+"All night."
+
+Steadman shuddered.
+
+"How did you know where to look for me?"
+
+"I didn't."
+
+Ralston was beginning to feel the revivifying effects of the whisky and
+soda and the fresh morning air.
+
+"''Twas like looking for a needle in haystack,'" he hummed. "'Although
+the chance of finding it was small.' Not an easy job, my friend."
+
+"But I didn't know you were in New York!"
+
+"I'd only been back a few days."
+
+"And Ellen asked you to hunt me up?"
+
+"Ye-es."
+
+Again Ralston felt weary, awfully weary, and sleepy.
+
+"By George, you're a brick!"
+
+"Oh, don't mention it!" yawned this "finder of lost persons."
+
+"But why should you? You hardly knew me!"
+
+"Somebody had to do it."
+
+"And that somebody had to know _how_, eh?"
+
+"It would appear so. You'd concealed yourself pretty effectually for
+some time. Your friend the colonel was getting anxious, you know."
+
+"How on earth did you ever do it?"
+
+"Tell you some time," answered Ralston sleepily. "By the way, do you
+mind saying how long you'd been in that house?"
+
+"Three days."
+
+"And lost----?"
+
+"Twenty-seven thousand dollars."
+
+"No one seemed to know you gambled."
+
+"I don't. It was my first experience."
+
+"How long has this little expedition lasted?"
+
+"Two weeks."
+
+The Searcher glanced at his companion. Already the stimulus of the bath
+had succumbed to fatigue. The face was drawn and hollow; the eyes red;
+the mouth twitched. Ralston turned away, his old loathing and disgust
+returning in an instant.
+
+The driver turned into Fifty-seventh Street, and the sun jumped above
+the housetops. Suddenly Steadman burst into tears, sobbing in long-drawn
+hollow sobs like a wearied child, covering his face with his hands.
+
+"Come, come, buck up! This won't do!" exclaimed Ralston.
+
+"O God!" groaned Steadman tremulously. "I can't face her. Turn around!
+Anywhere!"
+
+"You shall see her!" answered the other. "And now!"
+
+Steadman wiped his eyes. His chest heaved convulsively. He had grown
+quite pale.
+
+"Don't make me!" he gasped.
+
+"You shall see her--as you are," repeated Ralston, "and thank her for
+having saved you from disgrace."
+
+Steadman said nothing more. The cab drew up before the door of an
+apartment house.
+
+"Here we are," said Ralston. "Get out!"
+
+Steadman hesitated.
+
+"Get out! Do you hear?" shouted Ralston, with anger in his eyes.
+
+Steadman obeyed, his companion following close behind him. Inside, a
+darky sat fast asleep by the elevator. Ralston rapped loudly upon the
+glass and the man moved, rubbed his eyes, and came stupidly to the door.
+
+"Take this gentleman up to Miss Ferguson's apartment," said Ralston.
+"I'll wait below for you. You can have just ten minutes, understand?"
+
+He returned to the sidewalk. The cabby had fallen asleep again. A
+feeling of intense loneliness swept over him. He longed to throw himself
+inside the hansom and rest his exhausted frame. His bones ached and his
+muscles seemed strange and raspy, and he kept himself awake by walking
+nervously backward and forward before the house. He could hardly keep
+his eyes from closing and his knees trembled as if he were convalescing
+from an illness.
+
+"I did it!" he repeated over and over to himself. "By George! I did
+it!--saved him for her. Only for me and he would be what he called
+himself--'a dead one.'"
+
+The sunlight in the street grew momentarily brighter. Milk wagons groped
+their way from door to door, the horses stopping undirected at the
+proper places, and starting up again in response to uncouth roars from
+the drivers.
+
+An elevated train rattled by at the end of the street, and some workmen
+in overalls, conversing loudly in a foreign dialect, hurried noisily
+past. A few maids unchained front doors, gave the rugs feeble flaps, and
+eyed Ralston curiously before going inside to resume their domestic
+duties.
+
+He found that he was walking in a circle. His brain had fallen asleep.
+He realized that he had been dreaming, but the dream was vague and
+indistinct. Then he heard the faint sound of distant music. A housemaid
+dropped her rug and ran toward the avenue. Two pedestrians turned back
+in the same direction. A driver jumped into his milk wagon and sent the
+horse galloping.
+
+Ralston listened. Yes, the music was getting louder. They were playing
+"Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by!" It must be the regiment on their way
+from the armory to the ferry. He looked at his watch with a lump in his
+throat. It was "good-by" for him as well as for Steadman. There was no
+longer any doubt. Perhaps he could get a commission. He'd go away,
+anyhow.
+
+A hastily formed group of spectators on the corner began to wave their
+hats. The band was very near. A squad of figures stepping briskly in
+time came into view, at their head the erect form of Colonel Duer. He
+could recognize the other members of the staff, the adjutant, the
+commissary, the quartermaster, the doctor--he knew them all. On the left
+trudged the chaplain.
+
+"Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by!"
+
+The drum major following the staff turned and swung his baton, then
+resumed his former position. By George, they were playing well! Ah! What
+a difference it made when it was real business. Just behind the band
+followed the field music, with old "Davie" carrying the drum.
+
+"Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by!"
+
+The drums passed and the fifers. Then at a little distance came the
+lieutenant colonel and his staff at the head of the first battalion,
+marching full company front down the avenue. Ralston's heart beat
+faster. That was where _he_ could have been. How well those boys
+marched; just like a parade, their yellow legs eating up--eating
+up--eating up--eating up the ground. The band had grown fainter. You
+could hear the chupp--chupp--chupp--chupp of the hundreds of feet. Eyes
+front! No one to look at them, but eyes front! This was business. How
+trim they looked, each man in his olive-drab uniform, leggings, and
+russet shoes. How set were the faces beneath the gray felt hats! How
+lightly they bore their heavy load of haversack, yellow blanket roll,
+canteen, and cartridge belt. How the sword bayonets at their sides
+clinked and threw back the light to the blue barrels of their
+Krag-Jorgensens!
+
+"Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by," came faintly from the distance. Still
+the yellow rows kept passing. The first battalion ended.
+
+Then a major appeared, walking alone, followed closely by a captain and
+first lieutenant. Ralston strained his eyes for the yellow line behind
+them. Ah, there they were! Good boys! Good boys!
+
+The even companies swung by until the battalion had passed.
+
+Then came another major at the head of the third battalion. The third
+battalion! The line swept across from curb to curb with a single man
+behind the major--a lieutenant. Company D! Steadman's! The major's face
+was set in a hard frown. Ralston laughed feebly. That was all right.
+He'd fix that. Just wait a few minutes. His captain would be there.
+
+The little crowd on the corner began to cheer. Another company came into
+view. They had the colors--the dear old colors. Ralston doffed his hat
+and held it to his breast, straining his glance after the flag. The
+pavement floated away from him and his eyes filled with hot tears. He
+could not see the lines of marching men, but stood staring at the corner
+beyond which the colors had disappeared.
+
+Overcome with utter exhaustion, he sobbed hysterically, grasping the
+iron railing at his side. In a moment he got the better of himself and
+brushed the tears hastily away. Then a hand was laid upon his shoulder
+and he turned to see Ellen, her own eyes moist, and her face pale,
+looking up at him.
+
+"Ellen!"
+
+"Dick!"
+
+That was all. At the end of the block the hospital corps with their
+stretchers were just passing out of sight. Steadman stood on the steps,
+leaning against the doorway. He grinned in a sheepishly good-natured
+manner at Ralston.
+
+"Well, I found him!" the latter managed to announce in a fairly natural
+tone.
+
+"So I see," answered Ellen, "and ready to report for duty."
+
+"Well, I guess I'll say good-by," said Ralston awkwardly. "You people
+can have the cab as long as the horse lasts."
+
+"No, you don't," said Steadman. "Remember you've agreed to put me at the
+head of my company. You haven't done it yet! Has he, Ellen?"
+
+"No, we intend to take you with us to the ferry," she answered with a
+smile.
+
+The word "we" sent a pang through Ralston's tired heart, and for an
+instant the sunlight paled before his eyes.
+
+"Come, jump in, both of you," said Ellen.
+
+She seemed very cheerful, and strangely enough, so did Steadman. Ralston
+wondered if when people cared like that just seeing each other again
+would have such a stimulating effect. For his own part he was too tired
+to speak. As they trotted slowly down Fifth Avenue Ellen and Steadman
+kept up a lively conversation. She admired his uniform, his sword, his
+belt; talked of the other men and officers she knew in the regiment, and
+of the chagrin of Lieutenant Coffin, when his captain should oust him
+from his temporary place at the head of the company. On Twenty-third
+Street, near Eighth Avenue, they overtook the regiment, and followed the
+remainder of the distance close behind the hospital corps. Then silence
+fell upon them. The actual parting loomed vividly just before them at
+the ferry.
+
+Crowds of people, mostly small tradesmen and persons living in the
+neighborhood, had already begun to collect and follow the troops toward
+the place of embarkation. Ahead, the band was playing "Garry Owen," and
+the colors blazed in the sunlight. The regiment looked like a field of
+yellow corn waving in the breeze. About a hundred yards from the ferry
+house a few sharp orders came down the line and the regiment halted--at
+"rest."
+
+Steadman looked at his watch.
+
+"Three minutes to seven," he said, snapping the case. "I guess the old
+man will drop when he sees _me_!"
+
+"Just in time!" murmured Ellen.
+
+"Drive along, cabby, to the head of the procession," added Steadman.
+
+There was plenty of space to allow the hansom to pass near the curb, and
+they drove slowly along past the three battalions to where the colonel
+and his staff stood waiting for the gates to be opened. The band had
+ceased playing. The men laughed and jested, watching the lone hansom and
+its three occupants with interest.
+
+At the stone posts by the entrance the cab stopped and Steadman shook
+hands with Ellen. The smile had gone from his face.
+
+"Good-by, Ellen--good-by!"
+
+"Good-by, John," she answered.
+
+Ralston had turned away his head.
+
+"Well, good-by, old man! Accept the prodigal's insufficient thanks.
+You're a brick, Ralston. Good-by!"
+
+Beside the hansom Steadman paused for an instant and looked up.
+
+"Don't forget what I said, Ellen! The fellow I spoke of is 'a prince.'
+Good-by!"
+
+He turned and walked rapidly to where the colonel stood talking to the
+chaplain. All the fatigue had vanished from his step as he drew himself
+up before his commanding officer and saluted.
+
+The staff had turned to him in amazement.
+
+"I report for duty, sir!" he said simply.
+
+The colonel stared at him for a moment.
+
+"Take your company, sir!" he replied tartly.
+
+Steadman saluted again, and grasping his sword ran down the line, while
+a wave of comment and ejaculation followed just behind him.
+
+At this moment a whistle blew inside the ferry house, and a porter
+slowly swung the gates open.
+
+The colonel drew his sword.
+
+"Attention!" said he, glancing behind him.
+
+"Attention!" ordered the lieutenant colonel.
+
+"Attention!" shouted the majors.
+
+As the regiment stiffened, Steadman stepped to the head of his company.
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Coffin," he remarked nonchalantly.
+
+"Good morning," replied the astounded lieutenant.
+
+Then as the order flew down the line Steadman drew his sword.
+
+"Attention!" he cried in a clear voice.
+
+Behind the staff the drum major held his baton in air, and the musicians
+stood with their instruments at their lips ready for the order.
+
+The colonel's eye flew down the line.
+
+"Forward--" he cried.
+
+Down came the drum major's baton. The band started "There'll be a Hot
+Time!"
+
+"--March!" concluded the colonel, and, turning front, stepped ahead.
+
+"Forward--march!" shouted the lieutenant colonel. The order was
+instantly repeated by the captains.
+
+The battalion came to shoulder arms and moved forward.
+
+"Horrard, Hutch! Horrard, Hutch!" howled the majors.
+
+"Urrgh! Uhh! Huh! Huh!" yelled the captains.
+
+Each company tossed its rifles into place, dressed down the line, marked
+step for a moment, and then flashed its hundred legs in unison to the
+band. The yellow field of corn once more wavered in the wind and blew
+slowly forward.
+
+Ellen and Ralston sat motionless in the hansom as the battalions tramped
+by. At the head of his company marching with drawn sword, his head
+slightly bent and his gaze straight before him, came Steadman, but his
+eyes sought them not. The hospital corps with their stretchers brought
+up the rear and disappeared through the gates. The commissariat wagons
+followed stragglingly. The band could be heard dimly in the distance.
+
+Then the whistle blew again and the man who had opened the gates ran out
+and closed them. The Twelfth had gone--with a full quota of officers.
+
+"The Chilsworth," said Ralston, through the manhole.
+
+The driver once more hitched the reins over the back of his moribund
+beast, and they started uptown.
+
+"Dick," said Ellen suddenly, in a whisper, "Dick!"
+
+He turned toward her inquiringly.
+
+"Yes, Ellen?"
+
+"I--I was mistaken last night," she said, coloring and looking away from
+him.
+
+"What do you mean?" cried Ralston, his heart leaping.
+
+"That--there was only one," she answered softly, smiling through her
+tears, "and--and--_it wasn't_ John!"
+
+The cabby grinned sleepily and silently closed the manhole, with a
+fatherly expression illuminating his corrugated countenance.
+
+"Hully gee!" he muttered meditatively. "I mighta known there was a woman
+mixed up in it, somehow! Glad he got her!--Git on thar, you!"
+
+Between the ferry houses the boat was swinging out into midstream, her
+decks crowded with yellow figures, and across the dancing waves the wind
+bore the faint strains of "Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by."
+
+
+
+
+NOT AT HOME
+
+
+    "For I say this is death and the sole death,--
+    When a man's loss comes to him from his gain,
+    Darkness from light, from knowledge ignorance,
+    And lack of love from love made manifest."
+          --_A Death in the Desert._
+
+
+"Harry might have stopped!" thought Brown, as a stalwart young man
+strode briskly past with a short "Good evening." "I've not had a chance
+to speak to him for a month." He hesitated as if doubtful whether or not
+to follow and overtake the other, then turned in his original direction.
+His delight in the scene about him was too exquisite to be interrupted
+even for a talk with his friend. Dusk was just falling. For an instant a
+purple glow lingered upon the spires of the beautiful gray cathedral
+whose chimes were softly echoing above the murmur of the city; then the
+light slipped upward and upward, until, touching the topmost point, it
+vanished into the shadows.
+
+All about him jingled the sleighbells; long lines of equipages carrying
+richly dressed women moved in continuous streams in each direction;
+hundreds of lamps began to gleam in the windows and along the avenue; a
+kaleidoscopic electric sign, changing momentarily, flashed parti-colored
+showers of light across the housetops; big automobiles, full of gay
+parties of men and women in enormous fur coats and grotesque visors,
+buzzed and hissed along; newsboys shrilly called their items; warm,
+humid breaths of fragrance rolled out from the florist's shops; and
+smells of confections, of sachet, of gasoline, of soft-coal smoke,
+together with that of roses and damp fur, hung on the keen air.
+
+The greatest pleasure in Brown's life, next to his friendship for Harry
+Rogers, was his continuously fresh wonder at and appreciation for the
+complex, brilliant, palpitating life of the great city in which he, the
+taciturn New Englander, had come to live. The richness of his present
+experience glowed against the somber background of his past, touching
+emotions hitherto dormant and unrecognized. He realized as yet only the
+mysterious charm, the overwhelming attraction of his new surroundings;
+and every sense, dwarfed by inheritance, chilled by the east wind,
+throbbed and tingled in response. So far as Brown knew happiness this
+was its consummation and it was all due to Rogers. As Brown wandered
+along the crowded thoroughfare his mind dwelt fondly upon his friend. He
+recalled their chance introduction two years before at the Colonial Club
+in Cambridge, through Rogers's friend Winthrop, and how his heart had
+instantly gone out to the courteous and responsive stranger. That
+meeting had been the first shimmer of light through the musty chrysalis
+of Brown's existence.
+
+Shortly afterwards he had given up his place in the English Department
+at Harvard at the suggestion of one of the faculty and accepted a
+position at Columbia. The professor had hinted that he was too good a
+man to wait for the slow promotion incident to a scholastic career in
+Cambridge, and had mentioned New York as offering immeasurably greater
+opportunities. The advice had appealed to Brown and he had acted upon
+it.
+
+He remembered how lonely he had been the first few weeks after his
+arrival. In that hot and sultry September the city had seemed a prison.
+He had longed for the green elms, the hazy downs, the earthy dampness of
+his solitary evening walks. One broiling day he had encountered Rogers
+on the elevated railroad. The latter had not recognized him at first,
+but presently had recalled their first meeting.
+
+Brown in his enthusiasm had spoken familiarly of Winthrop, explaining in
+detail his own departure from Cambridge and his plans for the future. He
+was nevertheless rather surprised to receive within a week a note from
+Mrs. Rogers inviting him to spend a Sunday with them at their country
+place. What had that not meant to him!
+
+At college he had taken high rank and was graduated at the top of his
+class, but he had made no friends. He would have given ten years of his
+life for a single companion to throw an arm around his shoulder and call
+him by his Christian name. He had never been "old man" to anybody--only
+"Mr. Brown." At night when he had heard the clinking of glasses and the
+bursts of laughter in the adjoining rooms as he sat by his kerosene lamp
+reading Milton or Bacon or "The Idio-Psychological Theory of Ethics," he
+would sometimes drop his books, turn out the light and creep into the
+hall, listening to what he could not share. Then with the tears burning
+in his eyes he would stumble back to his lonely room and to bed.
+
+When he had achieved the ambition of his college days and by
+heartbreaking and unremitted drudgery had secured a position upon the
+faculty, he had found his relations still unchanged. His shell had
+hardened. From Mr. Brown he had become merely "Old Brown."
+
+And then how easily he had stepped into this other life! The Rogers had
+received him with open arms; their house had become the only real home
+he had ever known; and his affection for his new friends had blossomed
+for him almost into a romance. Even when Harry was busy or away, Brown
+would drop in on Mrs. Rogers of an evening and read aloud to her from
+his favorite authors. He tried to guide her reading and sent her books,
+and little Jack he loved as his own child.
+
+The friendship, beginning thus auspiciously, continued for many months.
+Rogers put him up at the club and introduced him to his friends, so that
+Brown slipped into a delightful circle of acquaintances, and found his
+horizon broadening unexpectedly. Life assumed an entirely fresh
+significance, and although, by reason of a constitutional bluntness of
+perception, he failed utterly to discriminate between superficial
+politeness on the part of others and genuine interest, the world in
+which he was now living seemed to overflow with the milk of human
+kindness.
+
+Brown had been making afternoon calls. The friendly cup of tea was to
+him a delightful innovation, and he cultivated it assiduously. He paused
+in front of a large corner house and hopefully ascended the steps.
+
+"Not at 'ome," intoned the butler in response to his inquiry.
+
+He turned down a side street, but no better success awaited him. He had
+found no one "at home" that afternoon. Usually he had better luck. But
+it was getting late and almost time to dress for dinner, and, although
+Brown usually dined alone, he had become very particular about dressing
+for his evening meal. His heart was bursting with good nature as he
+sauntered along in the brisk evening air.
+
+This New York was a great place! There rose before him the vision of his
+little room in the Appian Way in Cambridge. Had he remained he would be
+just about going over to Memorial for his supper at the ill-assorted and
+uncongenial "graduates' table" to which he had belonged. Jaggers would
+have been there, and the Botany man, and that fresh chap, who ran the
+business end of _The Crimson_, and was always chaffing him about
+society. He smiled as he thought of the quiet corner of the club, and of
+the little table with its snowy linen by the window, which he had
+appropriated.
+
+In Cambridge he had passed long months without experiencing anything
+more stimulating than a Sunday afternoon call on a professor's daughter
+or an occasional trip into Boston for the theater, supplemented by a
+solitary Welsh rabbit at Billy Park's. Other men in the department had
+belonged to the Tavern Club, in Boston, or the Cambridge Dramatic
+Society, but he had never been asked to join anything, nor had he
+possessed the _entrée_ even to the modest society of Cambridge. He was
+obliged to acknowledge--and it was in a measure gratifying to him to do
+so, since it threw his success into the higher relief--that judged by
+present standards his old life had been an absolute failure. No matter
+how genial he had tried to be, he had elicited little or no response.
+The days had been one dull round of tramping from his meals to lectures,
+and from lectures to the library. Although he had had no friends among
+his classmates, he had at least known their faces, but after graduation
+he had found himself, as it were, alone among strangers. As time went on
+he had become desperately unhappy and his work had suffered in
+consequence.
+
+Then he had come to New York. As if sent by Fate, Rogers had appeared,
+sought his companionship, made much of him. He began to think that
+perhaps he had misinterpreted the attitude of his quondam
+associates--they were such a quiet, prosaic, hard-working lot--so
+different from these debonair New Yorkers. And was not the cane they had
+presented to him on his departure a good evidence of their esteem? He
+swung it proudly. How well he recalled the moment when old Curtis had
+placed the treasure of gold and mahogany in his hands and, in the
+presence of his colleagues, had made his little speech, expressing their
+regret at losing him and wishing him all success. Then the others had
+clapped and cheered and he had stammered out his thanks. The
+presentation had been a tremendous surprise. Well, they were a good
+sort; a little dull, perhaps, but a good sort!
+
+Then, too, he felt himself a better man for his association with Rogers
+and his friends. It was such a new sensation to be appreciated and made
+something of that he had grown spiritually broader and taller. It had
+been very hard in Cambridge, where he had felt himself neglected and
+passed over, not to be selfish and spiteful. His standards had
+imperceptibly lowered. He had "looked at mean things in a mean way."
+Here it was different. With genial, broad-minded associates he had
+become warm-hearted and liberal. His drooping ideals had reared their
+heads. He felt new confidence in and respect for himself. Now he looked
+the world squarely in the eye. His work was improving, and the faculty
+at Columbia had expressed their appreciation of it. Life had never been
+so worth living. No one, he resolved, should ever suspect how small and
+narrow he had been before. He would always be the cheerful, generous,
+kindly chap for whom everybody seemed to take him. He had become a new
+man by reason of a little human sympathy.
+
+"How busy people are!" he thought. "I guess I'll have another try at
+Rogers." He crossed the avenue, found the house, and rang the bell. The
+bay window of the drawing-room was on a level with where he stood, and
+he caught a glimpse of Mrs. Rogers sitting beside a cozy tea table, and
+of little Jack playing by the fire. The maid, slipping aside the silk
+curtain before opening the door, inspected the visitor.
+
+"Mrs. Rogers is not at home," she remarked.
+
+Brown was paralyzed at such open prevarication.
+
+"I--I beg your pardon. But I think Mrs. Rogers is in."
+
+"Mrs. Rogers is not receiving," curtly replied the maid.
+
+Brown, vanquished but unconvinced, turned down the steps. At the bottom
+he stopped with a quick breath and glanced back at the house. Then he
+gave his trousers leg a cut with his gold-headed cane, and with a
+courageous whistle started up the avenue again.
+
+He was a bit puzzled. He was sure he could have done nothing to
+displease his friends. It was probably just a mistake; they had
+visitors, perhaps, or the child was not well. He would call up Rogers on
+the telephone next day and inquire.
+
+He walked to the boarding house and in the little hall bedroom he called
+"his rooms" put on the dinner coat of which he was so proud. It had
+cost sixty dollars at Rogers's tailor. He had never owned anything of
+the sort before. When he had been invited out to tea in Cambridge, which
+had been but rarely, he had always worn a "cutaway."
+
+He found Tomlinson, the club bore, in the coat room, invited him to
+dinner, and insisted on ordering a bottle of fine old claret. Tomlinson,
+in his opinion, was most clever and entertaining. After the meal his
+companion hurried away to an engagement, and Brown, lighting a cigar,
+strolled into the common-room, drew an armchair into the embrasure of a
+window, and sat there dreaming, at peace with all the world. The kindly
+faces of Rogers, his wife, and little Jack mingled together in a drowsy
+picture above the fragrant smoke wreaths. The bitterness of his past was
+all forgotten. The poverty and loneliness of his college days, the
+torture of his isolation in Cambridge, the regret for his youth's lost
+opportunities faded from his mind, and in their place he felt the warm
+breath of love and friendship, of kindness and appreciation, and the
+tiny clasp of the hand of little Jack. "God bless them all!" he closed
+his eyes. It seemed as though the boy were lying in his arms, the little
+head pressed against his shoulder. He held him tight and kissed the
+curly hair; his own head dropped lower; the cigar fell from his hand;
+behind the curtain Brown fell fast asleep.
+
+Half an hour later into his dream floated the voices of Rogers and
+Winthrop. A slight draught of air flowed beneath the curtain. Some one
+struck a bell close by and ordered coffee and cigars, and the cracking
+of six or seven matches marked the number of those who had sat down
+together beside the window. He listened vaguely, too comfortably happy
+to disclose himself.
+
+"You've got a lot of college men, I hear, in the district attorney's
+office," remarked one of the group, evidently to Rogers. "How do you
+like the work down there?"
+
+"Oh, well enough," came the reply. "Trying cases is always interesting,
+you know. By the way, Win, speaking of college men, exactly who is your
+friend Brown?"
+
+The dreamer behind the curtain smiled to himself. "Rogers may well ask
+that," he thought.
+
+"Brown?" returned Winthrop. "You wrote me he was in New York, didn't
+you? Why, you must have known him in Cambridge. He was the great light
+of my class--don't you remember?--president of the 'Pudding,' stroked
+the 'Varsity, and took a commencement part besides. A kind of 'Admirable
+Crichton.' I'm glad you've seen something of him here."
+
+There was silence for a moment or two. Obviously, thought Brown,
+Winthrop was confusing him with some one else.
+
+"No, no!" exclaimed Rogers impatiently "_you_ mean Nelson Brown; but
+he's on a tobacco plantation down in Cuba. The man I speak of is a
+little chap with a big head and protruding ears. You introduced me to
+him at the Colonial Club a year ago last spring."
+
+"Oh, well, I may have done so," answered Winthrop. "I don't recall it I
+think there was a fellow named Brown who used to hang around there--but
+he's no friend of mine. Who said he was?"
+
+"Hang it! You did yourself, in your letter to me," came Rogers's retort.
+
+"Nonsense! I was writing about Nelson!"
+
+Rogers smothered an ejaculation more forcible than elegant, but his
+annoyance seemed presently to give way to amusement, and he laughed
+heartily.
+
+"Look here, boys, what do you think of this? Two years ago I run on to
+Cambridge, and while there happen to meet a chap named Brown. A year
+later he turns up on the Elevated and greets me like a long-lost
+brother. I mention the incident in a letter to Win. He replies that
+Brown is the finest thing that ever came down the pike. _He_ refers to
+_Nelson_ Brown. _I_ suppose he means _my_ Brown. Thereupon I take this
+unknown person to my bosom and place my home at his disposal. He
+promptly squats on the premises, drives my wife nearly frantic, bores
+all my friends to death, and in a short time makes himself an
+unmitigated nuisance. Fortunately, he hasn't asked me for money. Now,
+who the devil is he?"
+
+"Don't know him from Adam!" said Winthrop.
+
+"I know who he is," interjected one of the others. "Took a course of his
+on the 'Philology of Psychology' or the 'Psychology of Philology' or
+something. He's just an ass--a surly beggar--a sort of--of--curmudgeon!"
+
+The window curtain trembled slightly, but no one noticed it.
+
+"I can tell you rather a good story about Brown," spoke up a voice that
+had hitherto been silent. "You know I taught for a time in the English
+Department last year. Brown meant well enough, I guess, but he was an
+odd creature. His great ambition evidently was to get into society.
+Every Sunday he would put on his togs and call on all the unfortunate
+people he knew. Finally, everybody showed him the door. He got to be so
+intolerable that the department fired him, to our intense relief. No
+one cared what became of him--so long as he only went. But Curtis--you
+remember old Curtis with the white hair and mustache?--he felt sorry for
+Brown and thought we ought at least to make a pretense of regret at
+having him leave. He suggested various things, but his ideas didn't
+arouse any sympathy, and we thought that was going to end the matter.
+Not a bit of it. Curtis went into town, all alone, and, although he is
+rather hard up himself, bought a gold-headed mahogany cane for
+forty-five dollars, and next day, when we were all at a department
+meeting, presented it to Brown, from the crowd, and got off a whole lot
+of stuff intended to cheer our departing friend. Of course we had to be
+decent enough to see the thing through, and Brown took it all in and
+almost wept when he thanked us. A few days afterwards Curtis came around
+and wanted us all to contribute to pay for the cane."
+
+"Well!" responded Rogers. "Even my little boy knew there was something
+wrong with him the first time they met--children are like dogs, you
+know, in that way. Jack whispered to his mother while Brown was
+grimacing at him, 'Mamma, is that a gentleman?' Thought Brown was a gas
+man or a window cleaner, you know."
+
+"Poor brute!" commented Winthrop. "Anyhow, Harry, your mistake has
+probably given him a lot of pleasure. No wonder he seized the
+opportunity. You can drop him by degrees so that, perhaps, he'll never
+suspect. Still, if he's as thick as you say he may give you trouble yet!
+Hello, it's a quarter past eight already! We shall have to run if we
+expect to see the first act. Come on, fellows!"
+
+Half hidden behind the curtain in the window, Brown sat staring out into
+the night.
+
+Hour after hour passed; the servants looked into the deserted room,
+observed him, apparently asleep, and departed noiselessly. One o'clock
+came, and Peter, the doorman, crossed over and touched him gently on the
+shoulder, saying that it was time to close the club. Brown mechanically
+arose, followed Peter to the coat room, and then, with eyes still fixed
+vacantly before him, silently passed out.
+
+"You've left your cane, sir!" Peter called after him.
+
+But Brown paid no heed.
+
+
+
+
+A STUDY IN SOCIOLOGY
+
+
+"I move the case of the People against Ludovico Candido, indicted for
+murder," announced the assistant district attorney, addressing the
+court.
+
+"Bring up Candido," shouted the captain to one of the attendants.
+
+"Where's his lawyer?" inquired the clerk, glancing along the benches.
+
+"I haven't seen him since morning," answered the assistant.
+
+"Send to Mr. Fellini's office, at once," ordered the judge impatiently.
+"He has no business to delay the court."
+
+At this moment the door in the rear of the room opened to admit a small
+dusty-looking Italian, stumbling along in advance of a tall, muscular
+policeman, and clutching nervously in both hands a battered,
+brick-stained felt hat. He was an emaciated, gaunt little fellow of
+about forty-five, with a thin mustache, pointed nose, and wild, rapidly
+shifting brown eyes. Under his open coat a red undershirt, unbuttoned at
+the neck, disclosed his sinewy chest. The nondescript trousers, which
+reached only to his ankles, terminated in huge, formless, machine-made
+shoes, the original color of which had entirely disappeared in favor of
+a dull whitish-green streaked with red.
+
+He muttered beneath his breath as he saw the throng of strange faces,
+not knowing what was to happen next; but the attendant shoved him on
+without ceremony. Five years in America had taught him only twenty words
+of English, and for aught that he could tell this might well be the
+place of public execution. The rough, imperious lawyer who had consented
+to take his case on the instalment plan had not been to see him in over
+a week. This was because Maria had spent the first instalment on a
+little feast of chicken which she had cooked and brought to the Tombs in
+a newspaper for her husband, instead of taking the money to the
+attorney's office.
+
+As Candido was half dragged, half pushed to the bar, a plump,
+white-skinned, clean-shaven man in a surtout entered the court room and
+thrust his way forward. Suddenly the prisoner uttered a choking cry and
+sank trembling to his knees, his locked hands raised to the judge in
+piteous appeal, while the attendants strove unsuccessfully to lift him
+to his feet.
+
+"Madonna!" he cried in his native tongue. "O Madonna! I confess that I
+took the life of Beppe! _Salvatemi!_"
+
+The begoggled, piebald-bearded interpreter who had taken his stand
+beside the defendant began to translate in a dramatic, stilted
+bellowing.
+
+"He says: 'O Madonna, I confess----'"
+
+"Here! Stop him! Stop that! Tell him to keep still. That won't do,"
+interposed the assistant.
+
+The interpreter gesticulated at the Italian, chattering volubly the
+while. Candido, staring like a frightened animal, allowed himself to be
+placed upon his feet, and stood clinging to the rail.
+
+"Are you ready to proceed to trial?" sternly asked the court of the
+plump man in the surtout.
+
+"I am not, your honor," replied the man. "I have not been paid."
+
+Candido raised his hands in supplication. "_O giudice! Confesso_----"
+
+The lawyer glanced at him contemptuously. "Shut up, you fool!" he
+growled in Italian.
+
+"You have not been paid? That makes no difference. This is no time to
+throw over your client."
+
+"I do not represent the prisoner," replied the other stubbornly. "If
+your honor cares to assign me as counsel, I shall be pleased to do so."
+
+Candido, hearing the severity of the judge's tones, shook in every limb.
+
+"So that is your game!" exclaimed his honor wrathfully. "You have
+induced this man to retain you as his lawyer, in order that now, on the
+plea that you have not been paid, you may induce me to assign you as
+counsel, and thus secure the five-hundred-dollar fee allowed by the
+State. A fine performance! I order you to proceed to trial!"
+
+"Then I respectfully decline," retorted the other, turning toward the
+door.
+
+The judge bit his lips in well-controlled anger. "Mr. District Attorney,
+prepare an order at once and serve it upon this attorney to appear
+before me to-morrow morning and show cause why he should not be punished
+for contempt of court. I will assign ex-Judge Flynn to the defense.
+Adjourn court until to-morrow morning." The judge rose and strode
+indignantly from the bench, while the jurors surged toward the entrance.
+
+"Come on there," ordered the attendant. "You're goin' to get new lawyer.
+Lucky feller!"
+
+But Candido with a shriek threw himself on the floor, clutching at the
+feet of the officers. "Madonna! Madonna! Is it indeed all over? Have
+they ordered me to execution? _Salvatemi!_ Madonna!"
+
+The grizzled interpreter stooped down and muttered in his ear: "Courage,
+my countryman! Nothing has occurred. They are to give you a better and
+more learned advocate."
+
+Clinging to the arm of the attendant, Candido staggered toward the door
+leading to the prison pen. His face, ashen before, was now a dusky
+white. He understood nothing of this talk of advocates and adjournments.
+Let them but terminate his suspense. He was ready to expiate his
+offense. He had explained that to the lawyer. It was the will of God.
+
+Close to the wire gate stood a young Italian woman with a shawl thrown
+about her slender shoulders, her hand holding that of a little child.
+"_Ludovico! Ludovico mio!_" she cried passionately. "Is it over? What
+has happened?"
+
+Candido answered with a great gasping sob. "_Maria! Figlio mio!_ I do
+not know!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Candido sat at the bar by the side of the lawyer assigned to defend him.
+Over night in the Tombs he had been informed exactly what had been the
+meaning of the mysterious proceedings of the day before. The great
+advocate had intimated that there might still be a chance for him. After
+all, he had only killed another Italian, and American juries were
+merciful.
+
+The case, the assistant told the jury in opening, was simple
+enough--plainly murder in the first degree. Giuseppe, or "Beppe"
+Montaro, the deceased, and Ludovico Candido, the prisoner, had both
+come from the same town in Calabria and had been very old friends,
+although Beppe was the younger by some ten years. When Ludovico had
+sought his fortune in America, his wife Maria had remained behind; so
+had Beppe. Candido had been gone for five years, and had then sent for
+his wife. Beppe had come, too. In New York they all had lived together,
+Maria keeping house and taking a number of boarders. Then there had been
+a quarrel. The neighbors had said that Beppe did not always go out to
+work, or that sometimes he returned while Ludovico was away. One night
+Candido had closed the door in the face of his friend, who had sought
+lodgings elsewhere.
+
+It appeared that, the day before the homicide, Candido had purchased a
+revolver which he had exhibited to his wife. A neighbor later had
+overheard her crying, and had asked what was the matter, to which she
+had replied: "Ludovico has bought a pistol. I fear it is for Beppe!" The
+next Sunday evening the defendant and Montaro had met in a wine shop,
+walked to Candido's house together, and in front of the door had had
+violent words. Then the husband had shot the lover.
+
+It was as plain as daylight. There was the motive, the premeditation,
+the deliberation, and the intent. At the conclusion of the evidence the
+prosecution would ask for a verdict of murder in the first degree.
+
+Candido's eyes strayed away from the young prosecutor, furtively seeking
+the corner where Maria and the child were sitting. He could not see
+them, owing to the throngs of neighbors huddled upon the benches. There
+were Petulano the baker, Felutelli the janitor, little Frederico the
+proprietor of the wine shop, Condesso, Pettalino, and Mantelli, with
+their wives, their sisters, and friends.
+
+"Pietro Petrosino!" called the prosecutor. A lithe youngster slipped off
+the front bench smiling and made his way behind the jury box. The jury
+brightened instinctively as they caught sight of his picturesque figure,
+the round curly head, and the flush of the deep-olive complexion.
+Candido knew him for a gambler, cock-fighter, and worse. What plot could
+be brewing now? How did it come that this man was going to be a witness
+against him? How had the prosecution got hold of him?--this scum from
+Sicily, this man who knew less than nothing of the affair.
+
+Pietro's black eyes sparkled innocently as he took the oath and threw
+himself gracefully across the armchair on the platform, the center of
+collective observation.
+
+_O Dio!_ He knew the defendant, yes, to his cost, he knew him! And
+Beppe, also. Alas! Poor Beppe! A fine statue of a man, a good man, a
+peaceable man! He also had been with them in the wine shop when the two
+had talked together apart from the others. No doubt Candido had had the
+pistol in his pocket at the very moment. They had whispered between
+themselves, their heads close together, "_like one who is being
+shriven_," and Beppe had kissed the hand of Ludovico in friendship.
+Ludovico had returned the caress. Then the three had walked homeward,
+and from the darkness of the hallway Candido had shot out at Beppe--shot
+him _come un sacco_ (like a bag). Pietro illustrated, taking the part of
+Beppe. He whispered, he kissed an imaginary hand, he walked, he
+fell--"like a bag!"
+
+The jury listened entranced. It was like going to the theater, only
+better--much better, and cost nothing. Besides, afterward, they could
+turn down their thumbs or turn them up, as they might see fit. For a
+moment the jury saw or thought they saw the whole thing--the perfidious
+hand-kissing assassin--then--
+
+"_Bugiardo! Bugiardo!_" shrieked Candido, rising hysterically and
+tearing the air in impotent rage. "Liar! Liar! He was not there! He
+knows nothing! He is an enemy!"
+
+"_Silenzio!_" cried the fantastically bearded interpreter.
+
+"Keep still!" ordered a court officer, shaking the prisoner roughly by
+the shoulder. The jury were delighted. Pietro was entirely unconcerned.
+A rapid fire of Italian ran quickly along the benches.
+
+Ludovico subsided into a little heap, his head sunk beneath his
+shoulders, the tears coursing down his cheeks. Madonna! Would they take
+the word of an enemy? Did they not know he was a Sicilian? What other
+hidden motive might not Pietro have? Candido stiffened and again turned
+to where he knew his wife must be sitting. Ah, that wretch! He had
+noticed his looks and glances. Candido ground his teeth, then dropped
+his head upon his arms.
+
+"Maria Delsarto!" shouted the attendant.
+
+Candido shivered and groaned aloud. They were calling his own wife to
+testify against him! He grew cold with terror. There was a conspiracy to
+get rid of him. The two had a secret understanding! What if she admitted
+having seen the pistol in his hands? And his threats! Now in truth it
+was all over! He settled himself stolidly, his eyes fixed upon the
+varnished table before him.
+
+Maria came forward, carrying her babe in her arms--Ludovico's "_piccolo
+bambino!_" She was still young and slight; but cheeks a little sunken
+and lips a little set told the story of her dire struggle with poverty.
+In her eyes glowed the beauty of her race, and their long lashes drooped
+on her pale cheeks as her lips moved automatically, repeating after the
+interpreter the words of the oath.
+
+Candido did not raise his own eyes. For him all desire for life had
+vanished. His wife was about to sacrifice him for a new lover, a
+Sicilian! He sat motionless. The sooner it was done the better.
+
+Maria let one hand lie gently on the arm of the witness chair, while
+with the other she caressed the sleeping child in her lap. Her gray
+shawl fell away from behind her head and showed a white neck around
+which hung a slender gold chain bearing a little cross. She looked
+neither at Candido nor at the jury. Then she took the little cross in
+her hand and glanced down at it.
+
+"Your name?" asked the prosecutor.
+
+"Maria Delsarto." Her voice was soft, musical, distinct.
+
+"You are the wife of the defendant?"
+
+"Yes, signore, and this is his child."
+
+"Do you remember that the day before the homicide of Montaro your
+husband brought home a revolver?"
+
+Candido's head disappeared beneath his arms and his body shook
+convulsively.
+
+"No, he had no pistol."
+
+The prisoner raised his eyes and shot a quick, puzzled look at his wife.
+
+"What?" cried the assistant. "You say he had no revolver? Did you not
+swear that you saw one and sign a paper to that effect?"
+
+Maria looked steadily before her. "I did not understand the paper. I saw
+no pistol." The words came quietly, positively.
+
+The prosecutor looked helplessly toward the judge and nervously fingered
+an affidavit.
+
+"You cannot impeach your own witness, Mr. District Attorney," admonished
+his honor.
+
+The prosecutor turned again to Maria. "Did you not tell Sophia Mantelli
+that you were weeping because your husband had purchased a revolver with
+which to kill Beppe?"
+
+"Objected to!" shouted Flynn.
+
+"I will allow it," said his honor, "on the ground of refreshing memory.
+The witness may answer."
+
+"No," answered Maria in the same quiet voice.
+
+The prosecutor threw down the affidavit in disgust. That was what you
+got for taking the word of one of these Italians! Well, it would be a
+lesson! No, he had no more questions. Candido began to chatter at his
+lawyer and fell to nodding and smiling at Maria, who seemed to see him
+no more than before.
+
+Flynn rose deliberately, cleared his throat, and elevated and stretched
+his arms as if to secure freer action, exhibiting during the operation a
+large pair of soiled cuffs.
+
+"Do you know Pietro What's-his-name?" he inquired sharply.
+
+Maria flushed and her head sank toward the child. "Yes," she murmured.
+
+"You have heard him testify that he saw the killing of Montaro?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you know where he was at that time?"
+
+Maria's head fell so low that her face could not be seen, and her hand
+sought the cross upon her bosom.
+
+"Answer the question!" cried Flynn roughly.
+
+"He was with me when we heard the shots below." Her voice dropped to a
+whisper. "He had been there for an hour. He was not with Ludovico at
+all. He saw nothing."
+
+An excited chatter flew around the benches. The handsome Pietro sat
+dumfounded.
+
+Candido started from his chair, his face livid with passion, his eyes
+glaring. "_Traditrice!_ It is thus you deceive me! It is well that I
+should die. Faithless betrayer!"
+
+In the hysteria of the moment he entirely overlooked the value of the
+testimony in his behalf. The attendant and the distinguished Flynn
+thrust him down, and the interpreter hurled at him a torrent of
+remonstrances. Once more the prisoner buried his face in his hands.
+Maria, still hanging her head, left the chair, and with her babe in her
+arms sought a distant corner of the court room.
+
+With the testimony of an officer that a button photograph of Maria had
+been found pinned inside the coat of Montaro, the prosecution closed its
+case. The assistant district attorney sat down. The jury shifted their
+positions. The distinguished Flynn rose to make motions that the case be
+taken from the jury. It was plain, he argued in sonorous and
+reverberating tones, that the prosecution had impeached its principal
+witness by the testimony of the defendant's wife, Maria Delsarto. It had
+raised a reasonable doubt on its own evidence. There was nothing upon
+which the jury could predicate a verdict. He asked that they be directed
+to acquit. Was his motion denied? With an expression of well-simulated
+surprise, he made the other stereotyped motions. The court denied them
+all.
+
+Candido saw and trembled. That shaking of the head could mean only one
+thing! Well, they would let him see the priest first--before they did
+it.
+
+"Take the chair!" came Flynn's harsh voice from above.
+
+"The chair!" _La sedia!_ Madonna! He knew that word. So soon then? He
+stiffened with horror. A chilly perspiration broke out all over his
+body. The room swam and darkness surged across his bewildered vision.
+
+"Take the chair!" repeated the voice.
+
+"_La sedia!_" bellowed the interpreter. "_La sedia!_"
+
+Candido shivered as with ague. His teeth chattered. _Dio!_ Now?
+
+The attendant placed a hand upon his shoulder. Candido uttered a
+terrible cry, and fell senseless to the floor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A long adjournment, a talk with the priest, an explanation from the
+interpreter, and Candido "took the chair," telling his own story in a
+fluent but listless monotone. He spoke of his father and mother, of his
+home in Calabria, of Maria whom he had known from childhood. His speech
+was soft and dejected. Then he told of Beppe--Beppe, the great, coarse,
+bullying brute who had tormented and abused him! Yet he had never
+retaliated until the other had sought to ruin his home. Then he had
+refused him access. Montaro had publicly sworn to be revenged, declaring
+that he would kill him and marry his widow.
+
+Candido gritted his teeth and shook his curved fingers, uttering various
+_staccato_ adjectives. Then he recovered himself, and in a different
+tone began to speak slowly and with great care, pausing after each
+sentence. From time to time he looked to observe the effect of his
+testimony upon the distinguished Flynn. That night in the wine shop
+Montaro had called him aside and in the most insulting manner warned him
+of his approaching fate. He would be dead within a week, and Maria would
+belong to another. Then in mockery Montaro had bent over his hand as if
+to administer a caress and had _bitten_ it--the deadliest of affronts.
+Candido had hurried out of the shop toward his home, closely followed by
+Montaro. At the door of the tenement his enemy had rushed upon him with
+a drawn knife from behind, and to save his own life Candido had fired at
+him.
+
+"He was a bad man--_un perfido_. He would have killed me and taken my
+wife from me had I not killed him," continued the defendant. As for this
+Pietro, he had not been there at all. He was an enemy, a Sicilian.
+
+In response to a question of the assistant, he explained that the pistol
+was an old one. He had not bought it to kill Montaro. He had had it for
+four or five years. Had procured it for safety when working on the
+railroad.
+
+By degrees Candido recovered from his listlessness. He no longer seemed
+careless as to the result of the case. A new strong thirst for life had
+taken possession of him. There was an air of frankness about the
+weather-beaten little countenance, and a trustful look in the brown eyes
+that served far better than "character witnesses" to convince the jury
+of his ingenuousness. There was no doubt as to his having made an
+impression.
+
+The distinguished Flynn patted him on the back as he took his seat and
+felt greatly encouraged. These Italians were great actors--and no
+mistake!
+
+[Illustration: "The distinguished Flynn burst into a deluge of
+oratory."]
+
+But the prosecution had reserved a bombshell for the last, intended
+to annihilate the testimony of the defendant and neutralize the effect
+of his personality upon the jury. The assistant called in rebuttal a
+salesman from a large retail fire-arm store, who testified positively
+that the pistol in evidence had been purchased the day before the
+homicide. Flynn turned to the attendant, whom he knew well and cursed.
+These Guineas! Bought the day before! He had all the air of one who has
+been grossly and inexcusably deceived. He scowled at Candido, who
+quailed before him.
+
+"How long do you want to sum up, gentlemen?" inquired the court. "Will
+twenty minutes each be sufficient?"
+
+The distinguished Flynn burst into a deluge of oratory in which
+Self-Defense and The Unwritten Law played opposite one another, neither
+yielding precedence. His client was a hero! The instinct of every true
+American, of every husband, of every father, must stamp his deed as one
+blameless in the eyes of the Almighty, and worthy not of censure but of
+the approval of all honest men and lovers of virtue. At the risk of his
+own life he had preserved the integrity of his home and the honor of his
+wife. At the same time he had rid the community of a villain. Never,
+while the Stars and Stripes floated above their heads would an American
+jury on this sacred soil, consecrated by the blood of those who
+sacrificed their lives to liberty, etc.-- He subsided, panting and
+mopping his forehead.
+
+The assistant rose to reply. This explanation of the defendant that he
+had killed in self-defense was the last despairing effort of a guilty
+man to escape the consequences of his horrible crime. Of course the
+prisoner's own evidence was valueless. Jealousy! Calm, calculating
+jealousy! That was the key to this awful act. The tell-tale picture on
+Montaro's coat, the crimson admissions of the defendant's wife, the
+purchase of the pistol--all spoke for themselves. The prosecutor paused.
+
+"Sympathy is not for the assassin," he concluded. "Think rather of his
+innocent victim! On the sunny shores of Calabria sits a woman, old and
+gray, to whom this Beppe is her joy, her pride, who thinks of him by day
+working in the great America across the seas, and whose heart, as the
+time for the harvest draws near and the exiles are coming back to work
+in the fields, will beat with expectation. The others will come. Father
+will meet daughter, and mother will meet son, and they will tell of
+their life in the great country of Freedom; but for her there will be no
+gladness--her Beppe will return no more."
+
+The assistant sank into his seat. Candido was staring at him with wide
+eyes. He knew the _avvocato_ had been talking about Calabria. Madonna!
+Would he ever see it again?
+
+"Gentlemen of the jury," began his honor. "I shall first define the
+various degrees of murder and manslaughter."
+
+The sun fell lower and lower over the Tombs as the judge continued his
+charge. The jury twisted uneasily in their chairs. Candido grew tired.
+This interminable flow of talk! Why did not the judge say what should be
+done to him at once? Millions of motes swam in the sun, and with his
+head resting on his forearms he watched them idly. He had always loved
+the sun. A warm lassitude stole over him. On Sundays he had spent whole
+mornings curled up on a bench in Seward Park with Maria and the
+_bambino_ beside him. How funnily the motes danced about! He smiled
+drowsily at them. Some were so tiny as to be almost invisible, and some
+were really large--if you half closed your eyes and one got near it
+seemed almost as big as a cat--fluffy like a cat. Those little, tiny
+motes would float out of nowhere into the band of sunshine and sink and
+dart across it, vanishing into nothingness. Candido amused himself by
+blowing millions of them into eternity. He himself was just like that.
+Out of the black, into the warm sun for a little while, and then--pouf!
+
+There was a tremendous scuffling of feet beside him, and the jury rose
+and filed out. The noise brought him back out of his dream to the
+realities again. They were going away! Judgment had been pronounced! The
+judge bowed solemnly to the retreating foreman. Again the fierce chill
+of overwhelming animal fear seized him. An officer approached. Madonna!
+He could not pass into the black like the motes, he could not! And he
+was as yet unshriven! With his frail little body vibrating like a
+framework of slender steel, he turned and faced the officer, panting
+with fear, his eyes darting fire.
+
+"Aw, come along!" growled the attendant, raising his hand to seize him
+by the arm.
+
+"I cannot die unshriven!" shrieked Candido, and flung himself furiously
+upon the officer, biting, kicking, scratching, until, nearly fainting
+from his paroxysm of terror and in a coma of exhaustion, he allowed
+himself to be carried away by three burly Irishmen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Bring up the defendant!" directed the court. The jury were already in
+and waiting for the prisoner. The Italians had all been hustled out into
+the corridor. His honor had no mind for any sort of demonstration. The
+light still poured through the great windows, and the sky was a deep
+sunny blue over the Tombs. Resisting, clutching at sills and railing,
+hanging by his arms, Candido was carried in and held bodily at the bar.
+
+"Jurors, look upon the defendant. Defendant, look upon the jurors. How
+say you, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?" asked the
+clerk grandiloquently.
+
+"Not guilty," answered the foreman distinctly, and with a shade of
+defiance in his voice.
+
+"Listen to your verdict as it stands recorded," continued the clerk,
+unaffected. "You find the defendant not guilty, and so say you all."
+
+"Any other charges against the prisoner?" inquired his honor.
+
+"Not yet," replied the assistant with sarcasm.
+
+Suddenly Candido began again. "Madonna! Save me! I confess that I killed
+Beppe, my countryman----"
+
+The bifurcated interpreter jabbered furiously at him. An expression of
+dumb amazement overspread the dusty little face.
+
+"You are free, acquitted, discharged; you may return to your home!"
+announced the beard dramatically, waving a hand in the direction of the
+door. The officers lowered Candido slowly to his feet. He picked up his
+hat. Abject wonder was painted upon his countenance. He gazed from the
+judge to the jury, and back again to the prosecutor.
+
+"Madonna! I am pardoned for killing Beppe? _O giudici_, I kiss your
+hands." He seized that of the interpreter and devoured it with kisses.
+Then with a smile he added: "Ah, you see I could not but kill him! He
+had ruined my home! He had deprived me of honor!"
+
+[Illustration: "He caught sight of the waiting Maria."]
+
+The attendants faced him toward the door, and he started slowly away;
+but before he had taken half a dozen steps he caught sight of the
+waiting Maria. His face changed. Once more he turned to the interpreter
+and muttered something hoarsely beneath his breath.
+
+"He says," translated the interpreter, turning to the court, "that he
+would like to have his pistol."
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE FELLER
+
+
+Five feet high, in a suit of clothes three sizes too large for him, he
+stood in the doorway of my office impassively examining a card which he
+held in his hand and looking doubtfully about the room.
+
+"I want to see the assistant district attorney," he said.
+
+"Well, this is the right place," I answered in as encouraging a tone as
+I could assume.
+
+"I want to see you--to speak with you. That lawyer company----"
+
+"Oh, the Legal Aid? What do you want to see me about?"
+
+"The little feller," he replied, taking a step forward and grasping his
+flat Derby hat firmly before him with both hands.
+
+"What's the trouble?"
+
+"It's the little feller--Isaac--they have arrested him for larceny." He
+spoke the words in a matter-of-fact--rather hopeful--altogether engaging
+manner.
+
+"Larceny, eh! How old is he?"
+
+"Eight. But he didn't do nothin'. He was out with some bad boys, but he
+didn't do nothin' and the cop arrested him with the others. That's all.
+I came down to get him off, if I could." He smiled frankly.
+
+"What's your name?" I inquired, for ingenuousness of that sort is
+uncommon among the Jews.
+
+"Abraham Aselovitch--my father is Isidore and my mother she is Rachael
+Aselovitch."
+
+"And this little fellow--is he your brother?"
+
+"Sure."
+
+"When does his case come up?"
+
+"Next Monday in the Children's Court." He shifted his position.
+
+"Well, even if he is found guilty they will probably only send him to
+the Juvenile Asylum."
+
+"That's it--Juvenile Asylum. It's a bad place. I don't want him to go
+there," replied the boy with determination.
+
+"Why not, Abraham?" I inquired.
+
+"It is a bad place. He will meet bad boys there--like the ones that got
+him into trouble," he responded with an eager look.
+
+"It's not such a bad place," I ventured.
+
+"I know what it is!" he retorted fiercely. "They make criminals there.
+Good boys are put in with the bad. It makes no difference. One makes the
+other bad. Isaac is a _good_ boy."
+
+"How about the evidence?"
+
+"I think they will convict him," remarked Abraham conclusively. "Those
+cops will swear to anything."
+
+"Oh, it isn't as bad as that," I answered with a smile. "Still, I'm
+afraid I can't get him off, particularly if the evidence would warrant
+his conviction. After all, perhaps the Juvenile is the best place for
+him, or maybe" (the thought struck me) "they will parole him in the
+custody of his mother."
+
+"No, they won't!" he cried with harsh vindictiveness. "She _wants_ him
+to go there. The little feller, he makes too much trouble for her. She
+don't want that she should have to clean up after him. She don't want to
+have to cook for him." His eyes filled. "My mother, she has no use for
+the little feller--but he's all I've got."
+
+"Do you work?"
+
+"Sure, every morning I go with my father at six o'clock, and I work all
+day until seven. Then I come home, and the little feller is lying in my
+bed and I put my arms around him and go to sleep."
+
+"Six until seven!" I exclaimed.
+
+"Yes, that is the time my father works, and I work for him--on the
+pants."
+
+"My God! A sweatshop!" I murmured. "Don't you ever have any fun?"
+
+"Sure I do. Saturdays we don't do no work an' I take the little feller
+down to Coney, an' sit on the sand all day with him. Do we have fun?
+Well, say, I guess!"
+
+"What does your father give you a week?"
+
+"Sometimes a dollar. Sometimes a dollar and a half. Sometimes nothin'."
+
+"What does your father say about putting Isaac in the asylum?"
+
+"My father!" answered Abraham, his eyes flashing. "_He_ don't want him.
+Isaac won't work. He's an _American_ boy. He's only eight. He just hangs
+around the house and musses things up and won't do nothin' they tell
+him. My father would be glad to get rid of him."
+
+"Well, if he makes all this trouble, why do you want to keep him?" I
+asked.
+
+"Because I love him!" responded Abraham with a sob. "He's all I've
+got--that little feller. I want him to grow up a good boy. If they
+don't want to take care of him, _I will_. I'll earn the money. I'll send
+him to school, maybe, by and by, and make a _lawyer_ of him." Abraham
+spoke eagerly. "The old folks, my father and mother, they ain't like me
+and you, they ain't real Americans, they don't understand these things.
+All they think about is work and the synagogue. I'm up against it, I
+know. I've got to work. But the little feller--I want that little feller
+to come out on top and have a chance."
+
+"McCarthy," said I to the county detective assigned to the office,
+"kindly step into the next room. I want to speak to this boy alone.
+
+"Abraham, you are up against it, I guess. Don't you think you can go
+without the little feller for a year? I'll do what I can, but even if he
+goes up they won't keep him longer than that at the asylum, and probably
+when he comes out he'll be more of a help to your father and mother."
+
+The big tears stood in his eyes and he twisted his hands together as he
+answered:
+
+"I guess--maybe--maybe, I could give up going down to Coney for a year,
+if it was going to do him any good. Don't you think the asylum's so
+bad?"
+
+"No, indeed," said I. "It's fine. He can learn to play in the band.
+He'll have a good time. Let him go."
+
+For an instant I thought my words had made an impression. Then the two
+tears welled over.
+
+"You don't know--" the voice was low and passionate--"you don't know
+what it is to have nothin' but a little feller like that. And way off
+there--he would wake up in the night maybe--all alone--a little
+feller----"
+
+"Abraham!" I exclaimed, "the Juvenile be hanged! I'll see the judge and
+do my best to have the little fellow remanded in the custody of his
+brother. And Abraham----"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Where is the little feller? Out on bail?"
+
+"Yessir."
+
+I fumbled in my pocket for a dollar bill.
+
+"Will you be paid for to-day?" I asked.
+
+"No, there's nothin' doin' to-day," he answered.
+
+"Had any work this week?"
+
+"Nothin' much this week. There ain't much doin' at the shop. I won't get
+paid this week."
+
+"Well," I continued, "the little feller is free till Monday, anyhow.
+Take him down to Coney to-morrow. And see here, Abraham, just _spend_
+that dollar. Be a good sport." He grinned. "Take the little feller along
+and sit on the sand, and if there is anything you want to see, no matter
+if it costs five cents or ten cents, you go in and see it. Have a real
+good time. Something for the little fellow to remember."
+
+He smiled out of his eyes a heaven-born smile.
+
+"Thank you."
+
+"Never mind that, just do as I say. And Monday you go to court with him.
+I'll see what I can do."
+
+"You bet I will. I'll take the little feller down there to-morrow. You
+ought to see him, Mister. Some time I'll bring him in here."
+
+He shook hands and turned to open the door. As it closed behind him,
+there echoed faintly through the transom:
+
+"Just wait till you see that little feller!"
+
+
+
+
+RANDOLPH, '64
+
+
+    "For the good and the great, in their beautiful prime,
+    Through thy precincts have musingly trod--"
+
+The roll of the national anthem died away and the veterans stood with
+bowed heads while the chaplain pronounced the benediction. Then the
+color bearer elevated the regimental flags, the drums tapped, and the
+gray-haired soldier boys, in straggling twos, marched slowly out of
+Saunders's Theater, through the flower-bedecked transept, and into the
+broad sunshine of Memorial Day. Ralph and I lingered in our seats until
+the crowd had thinned. In the flag-draped balcony above the platform the
+members of the band were hurriedly departing with their impedimenta;
+here and there little old ladies dressed in gray, were making their way
+with tardy steps toward the side exit; while all around the theater the
+open windows poured in a battery of mote-filled sunshine upon the
+deserted benches. The air was heavy with the soft fragrance of the elms
+outside, the faint odor of starched linen, of pine dust, and of flowers.
+
+"There's a pair for you!" whispered Ralph, as an erect old gentleman
+accompanied by a white-haired negro came up the aisle. "I wish I knew
+who they were." He offered to wager large sums, based upon his alleged
+capacity for divination, that they were an "old grad," a Southerner,
+probably, and his body servant--"Old Marse" and "Uncle Ned." He
+instantly saw visions of them as characters in a story he was writing
+for one of the college papers. He is an imaginative boy.
+
+We followed them out into the transept, and waited in the jog by the
+entrance while they made the round of the tablets, the white man reading
+the various inscriptions to his companion, who now and then would nod as
+if in recollection, and once furtively wiped his eyes with a frayed
+red-bordered silk handkerchief. The last we saw of them, they were
+picking their way across the car tracks of Cambridge Street in the
+direction of the Yard.
+
+All the long spring afternoon, as we lay on the grass with our backs
+against the tree trunks, pretending to study, but really only watching
+the little gray denizens of the Yard intent upon their squirrel
+business, Ralph was making up stories about "Old Marse" and "Uncle Ned."
+I don't believe the chap read a line of his Stubbs on "Mediæval
+Architecture," and he was very loath to join me when I dragged him to
+his feet and said that it was time for supper.
+
+Darkness had fallen when, two hours later, we joined the group of men
+gathered under the elms around the main entrance of Holworthy, where the
+Glee Club had assembled for one of its evening concerts. Everywhere the
+old buildings gleamed with light, for the examinations were on, and each
+window had its cluster of coatless occupants, who from time to time
+vociferously participated in mournful, lingering calls for "M-o-r-e."
+The odor of pipe smoke mingled with the sweet, humid breath of the grass
+and the subtle perfume of professors' gardens from distant Quincy
+Street; in the western sky a crescent moon, just peeping from behind the
+tower of Massachusetts Hall, shyly nestled in the tree tops; while
+between the great elms we could look, as we lay flat upon our backs,
+into an infinity of faintly twinkling worlds. Between songs you could
+hear the creaking of the pump in front of Hollis Hall, and the tinkle of
+the cup upon its chain as it was tossed heedlessly away by the thirsty
+wayfarer after he had availed himself of its humble services. Ralph and
+I, joyously entangled in the anatomy of a dozen classmates, drank in
+with rapture the never cloying melodies of "Johnnie Harvard," "The
+Miller's Daughter," "The Independent Cadets," and "A Health to King
+Charles," none of which old favorites escaped without a second
+rendition, and it was well on to nine o'clock when with a last
+
+    Here's a health to King Charles,
+    _Fill him up_ to the brim!
+
+the assemblage broke up, in spite of savage disapproval from the
+windows.
+
+Then only did we surrender to our miserable apprehension of the
+imminent, deadly "exam." in Fine Arts 4, and with the earnestly avowed
+purpose of really mastering the difference between a gargoyle and a
+lintel before we retired to rest, reluctantly mounted the stone steps
+recently vacated by our musical brethren. Our room was Number 10, the
+first as you go in on the right, and the flickering gaslight in the hall
+showed that the door, in accordance with inviolable custom, was still
+ajar.
+
+"Wait a second while I light the lamp," I remarked to Ralph, and,
+feeling my way across the room to my desk, stood there fumbling for the
+matches. As I did so I was startled to hear a voice from the darkness in
+the direction of the fireplace.
+
+"I beg your pardon," it said. "I'm afraid I have usurped your room, but
+the door was open and its invitation was too attractive to be refused."
+
+The match flared up and I saw before me Ralph's "Old Marse."
+
+"Oh--of course--certainly," I replied. He had arisen from the armchair
+in which evidently he had been listening to the singing. Then the wick
+caught, and by the increased light I saw that the man before me looked
+older than he had in the morning. His hair was almost white, and his
+face about the eyes finely wrinkled, but its expression was full of
+kindly humor, and I felt somehow that this stranger quite belonged
+there, and that it was I who was the intruder.
+
+"You see," he continued with a smile, "I feel that I have a certain
+right to be here. This used to be my room. Let me introduce myself.
+Curtis is my name--Curtis, '64."
+
+"Glad to meet you, Mr. Curtis," said I. "I'm Jarvis, 190--. Was this
+really your room? That seems an awfully long time ago."
+
+He smiled again.
+
+"I'm afraid it seems longer ago to you than to me. Would you mind if I
+should smoke a cigar with you? I'd like to ask you some things about the
+old building."
+
+"Please do," said I. "And let me introduce my roommate, Ralph Hughes."
+
+Ralph shook hands with Mr. Curtis, and we all sat down around the
+fireplace. It seemed rather inhospitable not to be able to offer him any
+refreshments, but there was only one bottle of beer in the
+_papier-maché_ fire pail in my bedroom, and it was warm at that. Hence
+we accepted our guest's cigars with some diffidence and awaited his
+first interrogation. I could see that Ralph was brimming over with
+eagerness to ask about "Uncle Ned" and a hundred other things which that
+romantic ostrich of a boy had invented during the afternoon, and I felt
+quite sure that before Mr. Curtis got away he would be obliged to pay
+heavily for the temerity of his visit by being offered up upon the altar
+as a sacrifice to Ralph's bump of acquisitiveness.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Curtis, "this was my room for four years. If you look
+over on the windowpane I think you'll find my name scratched on the
+glass in the lower left-hand corner. I wonder if that old picture of the
+Belvoir Fox Hunt, that I left, is still here?"
+
+"Oh, was that yours?" exclaimed Ralph. He darted into the bedroom and
+unhooked a framed lithograph which had been the joy and pride of the
+occupants of the room for the past four decades. Mr. Curtis turned it
+round and pointed to his name in faded ink upon the back at the head of
+a long line of indorsements, each of which represented a temporary
+possessor.
+
+"The old room seems about the same. The wall-paper has been changed, but
+that big crack over by the bedroom I remember well. And there ought to
+be a bullet hole in the frame of the door."
+
+"A bullet hole!" exclaimed Ralph and I in unison.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Curtis quietly, "a bullet hole--a thirty-two caliber, I
+should judge."
+
+Ralph seized the lamp and, holding it high above his head, carefully
+scrutinized the woodwork of the door.
+
+"There it is!" he cried eagerly. "Right in the middle; and, by George,
+there's the bullet, too! There's a story about that, I bet--isn't there?
+Who fired it? How did it get there?"
+
+He replaced the lamp, quivering with interest.
+
+"A story if you like," responded Mr. Curtis, looking curiously out of
+his laughing brown eyes at my impetuous roommate. "Yes, quite a little
+story. I could hardly tell you about it unless I told you also something
+of the man who fired the shot. Did you ever hear of Randolph? Randolph,
+'64?"
+
+The blank look which came into our faces rendered answer unnecessary.
+
+"Never heard of Randolph, '64! _Sic fama est!_ I suppose some Jones or
+Smith or Robinson now holds his place. Outside of Prex himself, there
+wasn't a better-known figure in my time. Why, he occupied this very
+room. He was my roommate."
+
+"Did he, though!" ejaculated Ralph. "How did he come to be firing a
+pistol around? Didn't he fall foul of the Yard policeman?"
+
+"There were no Yard policemen in those days," said Mr. Curtis.
+
+"What luck!" ejaculated Ralph. "Do tell us about Randolph!" he pleaded
+in the same breath.
+
+"Certainly. If you really wish it. I trust you fellows haven't any
+examinations to-morrow."
+
+"Examinations be hanged!" exclaimed Ralph.
+
+"Well," began Mr. Curtis meditatively, "I remember as if it were only
+yesterday being awakened one bright September morning in '60 by the
+sound of a rich negro voice singing in time to the scuff-scuff of the
+blacking of a pair of shoes. The sound entered the open window through
+which the autumn sun was already pouring, and penetrated the stillness
+of my bedroom, over there. I sprang out of bed and, thrusting my head
+out of the window, beheld, seated comfortably upon the topmost step, a
+comically visaged darky, clad in a pair of brown overalls and battered
+felt hat, busily engaged in putting the finishing touches to a highly
+polished pair of russet riding boots. Piled indiscriminately upon the
+sidewalk, in front of the windows of the room opposite, lay several huge
+trunks, while at the foot of the steps reposed a long wicker basket,
+before which were ranged in order of height an astonishing collection of
+riding boots and shoes of all varieties, upon which the disturber of my
+dreams had evidently been hard at work, since they shone with a luster
+glorious to behold. The negro, having critically examined the boot upon
+his arm, and evidently satisfied with its condition, arose to place it
+by the side of its mate, and in so doing caught sight of me. Instantly
+he had doffed his old gray hat and was making a grave salutation.
+
+"'Good mornin', suh.'
+
+"For a moment this vision of darky courtesy deprived me of my ordinary
+self-possession. Then his grin became contagious.
+
+"'I heard you singing and thought I'd look out to see who it was. Do you
+know who those trunks belong to?'
+
+"'Dose? Why, dose is Marse Dick's. Oh, p'r'aps you ain't met Marse
+Dick--Marse Dick Randolph, ob Randolph Hall, Virginny, suh.' He drew
+himself up with conscious pride. 'We-uns jes' come las' night. Marse
+Dick's rooms is in dar'--nodding toward the window--'en I wuz jes'
+a-lookin' ober some ob his traps. Anyt'ing I kin do fo' you, suh? Glad
+to be of any service, suh. I'se Marse Dick's boy--Moses--Moses March,
+suh.'
+
+"'Well, Moses,' I answered, 'I'm glad to make your acquaintance. You can
+tell Mr. Randolph that if he is going to be a neighbor of mine I shall
+call upon him at the earliest opportunity.'
+
+"'Yah, suh. T'ank you, suh,' responded Moses.
+
+"Just then the old bell on Harvard Hall began to clamor for the morning
+chapel service, and realizing that the master of my new acquaintance
+might be unfamiliar with college regulations, I called out:
+
+"'You'd better wake Mr. Randolph or he'll be late for chapel.'
+
+"'Call Marse Dick!' exclaimed the darky in apparent horror. 'Golly, I
+darsn't call Marse Dick 'fo' ten o'clock. Why, he'd skin me alive.
+'Sides, he tole me to bring roun' Azam 'bout ten o'clock.'
+
+"'Azam?' I queried.
+
+"'Yah, suh; Azam's Marse Dick's hunter. Bes' Kentucky blood, suh. Sired
+by ole Marse's stallion Satan, out o' White Clover. Dar's a hunter fo'
+you, suh. You jes' ought ter see Marse Dick a-follerin' de hounds.
+'Scuse me, suh, fo' keepin' you a-waitin'. No, suh, t'ank you, suh; I
+won't forgit de card, suh.'
+
+"Hastily retiring to my bedroom I threw on my clothes and then hurried
+off to chapel. The shades of Number 9, the room across the hall, were
+still tightly drawn."
+
+Mr. Curtis stopped and relit his cigar. The yellow sash curtains on
+their sagging wires softly bellied in the night breeze, and through the
+open windows came the distant chanting of the Institute march and the
+tinkle of the pump.
+
+"This very room!" repeated the old gentleman half to himself. "And this
+very window!" His voice sank dreamily and he seemed for the moment to
+have forgotten our presence. "Those were happy times. As I look back
+over the forty years, the time I spent here seems one long vista of
+glorious autumn days. The same old red-brick buildings; the same green
+velvet sward; that old tolling bell; the gravel walks; the pump--I
+remember there always used to be a damp place about ten feet square
+about the pump; the old creaking stairs outside this very door; the
+quiet evenings on the steps where those jolly chaps were singing; the
+long talks before this very fireplace under the lamplight with Dick; and
+then that fatal rupture with the South! How little it means to you! Why,
+it is isn't even a dream. It's just tradition. I suppose you feel
+it--you can't help feeling it. But if you had sat here, as I did, with
+the fellows going away, and the company drilling on the Delta over
+there--what do you call it now: the Delta?--and had shared the feverish
+enthusiasm which we all felt, tempered by the sorrow of losing our
+comrades; the little scenes when they went off one by one, and we gave
+each fellow a sword or some knickknack to carry with him; and the long,
+sad, anxious days when you waited breathless for news--and then, when it
+came, often as not, had felt a pang at your heartstrings because some
+fellow that you loved had got it at Bull Run, or Antietam, or Cold
+Harbor! No, you can never know what that meant, and thank God you can't.
+The rest is about the same. I see you have squirrels in the Yard now. We
+never had any squirrels. I suppose you sit in these windows and watch
+'em by the hour. Busier than you, I guess.
+
+"But apart from the squirrels and the new buildings, the old place is
+about the same--bigger, more imposing, of course, with its modern
+equipment of museums and laboratories and all that, and best of all that
+splendid monument with its transept full of memories. But it's not the
+same to me. It's only when I turn toward the corner by Hollis and
+Stoughton, as I did this afternoon, with Holden Chapel just peeping in
+between, and the big elms swinging overhead, and, shutting my ears to
+the rattle of the electric cars, listen to the sound of the same old
+clanging bell, with the sun gilding the tree trunks and slanting along
+the gravel pathways, that I can call back those dear old days. Then, it
+seems as if I were back in '61."
+
+In the pause which followed Ralph volunteered that we all did feel
+somewhat of the same thing, only in a minor degree. He had often
+imagined the fellows going off to the war and had wondered if it was
+anything like what he supposed. He pattered on in his own peculiar way
+trying to put our guest at ease and, as he expressed it later, to cheer
+him up. It would never have done, he averred later in his own defense,
+to let "Old Marse" get groggy over the "sunlit elms." However, Mr.
+Curtis changed the tone himself.
+
+"And now to come to that first time that I ever saw Randolph. I had just
+come from tea and was sauntering along the Yard in front of Stoughton
+when I became conscious that my customary place upon the steps, out
+there, had been usurped. The trunks and paraphernalia of the morning had
+disappeared, and although Moses was absent, I knew somehow that this
+could be no other than 'Marse Dick.' He was tall, with muscular back and
+shoulders, and his clothes of dark-blue serge hung on him as if they had
+grown there. His feet were encased in long-toed vermilion morocco
+slippers, and the other elements of his costume which caught my eye were
+a yellow corduroy waistcoat, very faddish for those days, and a flowing
+red cravat. A broad-brimmed black slouch hat was well pulled down over
+his eyes, while from beneath protruded a long brierwood pipe from which
+voluminous clouds of smoke rolled forth upon the evening air without
+causing any annoyance, so it seemed, to an enormous mastiff, who sat
+contentedly between his master's knees, blinking his eyes and thumping
+his tail in response to the caresses of the hand upon his head. As I
+drew near the dog stalked over to meet me, sniffing good-naturedly, and
+the stranger stepped down, removed his hat, and held out his hand with a
+smile of greeting.
+
+"'Mr. Curtis, I believe, suh?' he said in a low but agreeable drawl. 'My
+boy Moses gave me the card you were kind enough to send by him this
+morning. We are neighbors, are we not?'
+
+"I had rather expected to see the face of a dandy, but instead a pair of
+black eyes under almost beetling black brows burned steadily into mine.
+He looked nearer thirty than twenty, and this appearance of maturity was
+heightened by a tiny goatee. His smile was straightforward and honest,
+the forehead, under the curly black locks, low and broad, the nose
+aquiline and the skin dark and ruddy. Yes, he was a very pretty figure
+of a man--as handsome a lad as one would care to meet on a summer's
+day--part pirate, part Spanish grandee, part student, and every inch a
+gentleman. Later there were plenty of fellows who said that no man could
+dress like that (we were all soberly arrayed in those days) and be a
+gentleman; or that no one could come flaunting his horses and dogs and
+niggers into Cambridge, as Randolph undoubtedly did, and be one; or
+could parade around the Yard smoking real cigars and keep dueling
+pistols on his mantel and rum under the bed, as Dick did, and be one.
+But he was, boys, he was!
+
+"Perhaps he did talk too much about his niggers and his acres; too much
+about his old mansion and its flower gardens, about stables, fox-hunting
+and fiddlers--what of it? The point was that we were a lot of
+soul-starved, psalm-singing Yankees, talking through our noses and
+counting our pennies; while Randolph was a warm-hearted, hot-headed,
+fire-eating, cursing Virginian.
+
+"We shook hands and I joined him on the steps. It was just such a night
+as this--calm and sweet, the stars peeping through the boughs, and the
+windows shining. And that's how I like to think of him.
+
+"He'd never been away from home before except to go to Paris. He talked
+like a feudal baron, seeming to think that life was just one long
+holiday; that no one had to earn a living; that things in general were
+constructed by an amiable Deity solely for our delectation; and there
+was in his attitude a recklessness and disregard for established usages
+that left me totally at a loss. Imagine a fellow like myself taught to
+regard card playing, the theater, and dancing as mortal sins, with a
+father who believed in infant damnation and predestination; a fellow
+brought up to gaze in silent admiration at Charles Sumner; and who was
+allowed a silver half-dollar a week pocket money--imagine me, I say,
+sitting out there with this free-thinking, free-hating, free-handed
+slave owner! Why, I loved him with my whole heart inside of five
+minutes. God bless my soul, how my father used to frown when they told
+him about my new friend's latest escapade! But with all his freedom of
+ideas he was as simple as a child. I don't believe the fellow ever had a
+mean or an impure thought. I believe that as I believe in God.
+
+"Well, I told him about my life--what there was to tell--and he told me
+about his; how his father had died three years before, leaving him the
+owner of very large estates and a great many hundred slaves--I forget
+how many. His mother was still living down on the plantation. They were
+Roman Catholics--'Papists,' my father called them. The doctrines of the
+Church, however, didn't seem to bother him at all, that I could see. His
+father had evidently been the big man of the county, and had shared all
+his sports and studies, cramming him with the most extraordinary amount
+of miscellaneous reading and curious Chesterfieldian ideas of honor and
+manners.
+
+"I can remember, now, just how he described the old place to me, sitting
+out there on the steps. He thought it the finest home in all the land.
+Perhaps it was. I never had the heart to go there afterwards. One thing
+I remember was a grand old garden laid out in terraces, the walks
+bordered by box two hundred years old and as high as your head, where
+little red and green snakes curled up and sunned themselves--a garden
+full of old-fashioned flowers and fountains and sundials, and a water
+garden, too, with lilies of every sort; and there was a family graveyard
+right on the place where they had all been buried--where his father had
+been--with a ghost--a female ghost--named Shirley, I recall that, who
+flitted among the trees on misty mornings. Oh, it was a great picture!
+I'll never see that old place. Perhaps it's just as well. It couldn't
+have been as beautiful as he painted it. You see I'd been born in a
+twenty-one-foot red-brick house on Beacon Hill.
+
+"Then as we were sitting there on the steps, I broad awake but in
+fairyland, out from under the trees shuffled Moses's quaint, crooked
+figure. Wanted to know if eb'ryt'ing was all right with young Marse.
+Azam and Bhurtpore was fixed first-class, suh. An' he'd done got a
+little cubby-hole down in the stable to sleep in. Wuz dere any orders
+to-night, suh? An' what time should he bring Azam roun' in de mornin'?
+
+"'Go 'long with Moses, Jim,' said Randolph. The dog obediently arose,
+stretched himself, and descended the steps.
+
+"'Good night, Marse Dick,' said Moses.
+
+"'Good night, Moses,' replied Dick. And the two, the darky and the dog,
+disappeared under the shadow of the elms."
+
+Mr. Curtis knocked the ash from his extinct cigar and relit it at the
+top of the lamp chimney.
+
+"I should just like to have seen him," remarked Ralph enthusiastically.
+"And to think that he really lived in this room. How did that happen?
+And which bedroom did he have?"
+
+"The one on the left, nearest the door," replied Mr. Curtis.
+
+Over in Stoughton some fool was strumming a banjo, singing "I'm a
+soldier now, Lizette"--rottenly. And some one else, of the same mind as
+myself apparently, leaned out of the window in the room above us and
+holloed:
+
+"Oh, quit that! Try being a freshman a while! Lizette won't care."
+
+Evidently the singer decided to follow the advice thus gratuitously
+given, for the banjo ceased. Then came one of those long silences when
+you felt instinctively that in a moment something might happen to spoil
+the excellent opportunity of it, throw us off the key as it were, or
+break its placid surface like an inconsequent pebble. But Ralph, in a
+singularly moderate tone, as if leading the theme gently that it might
+not become startled and break away, continued:
+
+"You said something about dueling pistols, you know."
+
+Mr. Curtis looked at him with that same quizzical smile which my
+roommate had called forth before.
+
+"That's it. All you want is gunpowder, treason, and plot. My feeble
+attempt at character sketching has been a failure. Well, now to your
+dessert."
+
+"You are entirely wrong," said Ralph, rather mortified. "Randolph must
+have been a perfect corker. I wish we had some chaps like that in 19--.
+But the Southerners nowadays all seem to go to Chapel Hill, or William
+and Mary, or Tulane, or some of those God-forsaken places where I don't
+believe they even have a ball nine. Only, naturally, I wanted to make
+sure of the bullet hole. You see," he added cunningly, "that bullet hole
+is the thing that links us together. That's how we'll know when you've
+gone that it wasn't all a dream."
+
+Mr. Curtis laughed outright.
+
+"You're a funny boy," said he. "Well, two or three days later I asked
+Randolph to room with me. The matter was easily adjusted, and Moses
+spent nearly a week in fixing up this den here with what he called
+'Marse Dick's contraptions.' Save the old picture there, there's not a
+thing in the place that suggests the room as it looked then. From
+extreme meagerness, if not poverty, of furniture it sprang into
+opulence--almost ornately magnificent it seemed to me with my
+conservative New England tastes and still more conservative New England
+pocketbook. I remember a silver-mounted revolver was always lying on one
+end of the mantelpiece, while in the center was a rosewood case of
+pistols, curious affairs, with long octagonal barrels, and stocks
+inlaid with mother-of-pearl and silver.
+
+"Randolph soon became a celebrity. He could no more avoid being the most
+conspicuous figure in Cambridge than he could help addressing his
+acquaintances as 'suh.' And in spite of his natural reserve, a quality
+which was curiously combined with entire ease in conversation, he soon
+acquired a large acquaintance and rather a following.
+
+"Needless to say, I became his almost inseparable companion. Dick's
+second hunter, Bhurtpore, had been placed entirely at my service, and
+scarce a day passed that autumn without our scouring the country roads
+for miles around, followed by three or four of the hounds. Jim, the
+mastiff, while we were absent on these excursions, spent his time lying
+beneath the ebony table in 10 Holworthy awaiting our return.
+
+"Randolph tried unsuccessfully to organize a hunt. It soon appeared that
+Azam and Bhurtpore were the only hunters in Cambridge, and polo had not
+yet been introduced into this country. Frequently we would take a circle
+of twenty miles in the course of an afternoon, galloping up quiet old
+Brattle Street, out around Fresh Pond, until we struck the Concord
+turnpike, which we followed over Belmont Hill, down past an old yellow
+farmhouse with blue blinds, at the juncture of the highway to Lexington
+and what we called the 'Willow Road,' and then under the overarching
+boughs, through soggy fields full of bright clumps of alders, until the
+fading light of the afternoon warned us that it was time to turn our
+horses' heads in the direction of Cambridge."
+
+"We have a Polo Club," said Ralph, "but we haven't any horses."
+
+"Well, now, to get down to your bullet hole," continued Mr. Curtis.
+"Hazing, of course, was an ordinary affair, and it was not uncommon to
+see a pitched battle of fisticuffs going on behind some college
+building.
+
+"Now, mind you, the hazing was not done by the best men, but by the
+worst, and it was always the tougher elements in the sophomore class
+that availed themselves of this method of showing that they were feeling
+their oats. Every one of us looked forward, sooner or later, to getting
+his dose, and any freshman who smoked cigars and kept a nigger might
+have expected it as a matter of course. But Dick was a chap that did
+just as he pleased, and did it with such a confounded air--the '_bel
+air_,' you know--that you'd have thought we were all a parcel of
+cavaliers walking in a palace garden. I don't blame them for feeling
+that he ought to be taken down a peg, when you take everything into
+consideration.
+
+"For example, imagine his kissing old Mrs. Podridge's hand at a faculty
+tea! Of course the antiquated thing liked it, but it was so conspicuous.
+And worse than all, inviting Prex into his room to have a cigar and a
+glass of Madeira! Think of that! The queer part of it was that Prex
+nearly accepted the invitation.
+
+"'Why not?' said Dick, in answer to my expostulation. 'Do you mean that
+in the North one gentleman cannot, without criticism, extend to another
+the hospitality of his own room?'
+
+"It was all in the point of view. What could you say?
+
+"Some carping fellows spread a canard that Randolph was trying to
+introduce slavery into Cambridge. Dick did not even notice it
+sufficiently to direct Moses to display his manumission papers. Of
+course there was a deal of talking about him, mostly good-natured
+chaff, and had it not been for Watkins I doubt if anything would have
+happened. This person was an ill-conditioned, dissatisfied fellow who
+had come from a small town in Rhode Island with a considerable amount of
+the initial velocity arising out of local prestige, which, wearing off,
+left him in a miserable state of doubt as to what to do to rehabilitate
+himself in the garments of distinction. As you would say, he 'had it in'
+for Randolph for no reason in the world. Dick was just too good-looking,
+too prosperous, too independent--that was all. He had an idea, I
+suppose, that if he could knock the statue off its pedestal he might
+perhaps occupy the vacant situation.
+
+"One evening I inquired carelessly of Randolph what he should do if the
+sophomores tried to haze him. He replied, nonchalantly, that he should
+exercise the sacred right of self-defense as circumstances might
+require. If anyone tried to interfere with him he must take the
+consequences. In certain situations the only thing to do was to shoot
+your aggressor. I looked up to see if he were joking, but his face was
+entirely serious.
+
+"Another chap who was sitting there laughed and slapped his knee. I can
+see now that it was just this kind of thing that gave Randolph's enemies
+some color for saying that he was a sort of crazy fool. Perhaps I was
+playing Sancho Panza to his Don Quixote, after all.
+
+"Presently a lot of other fellows joined us, and by the time Moses
+appeared we had disposed of a couple of bottles of old Port, from under
+Dick's bed, and were loudly declaiming our loyalty to the Old Dominion
+and consigning the class of '63 to eternal torment. In the midst of the
+uproar some one grabbed Moses and shoved him upon the steps, shouting
+'Speech! Speech!' What put the idea into his head I can't
+imagine--probably antislavery speeches in the square which he had
+overheard.
+
+"'Gem'men,' he began, 'I'se not 'customed ter makin' speeches outa
+meetin', 'specially ter gem'men like you-all, but I'se got suthin' I'se
+been a-studyin' ober an' what's a-worryin' me, what I'd like ter say.
+It's des' 'bout Marse Dick. I des' come from down de street whar I done
+hear some gem'men a-speechifyin' 'bout him an' me. Dey says' (his voice
+rose indignantly) 'dat Marse Dick didn't hab no business fo' ter hab me
+here. Dat he didn't hab no right ter hab me work fo' him nohow, or Old
+Marse; an' dey calls Marse Dick some mighty mean names. Now I des' 'ud
+like ter know ef I ain't Marse Dick's boy an' why he ain't got no right
+fo' ter hab me work fo' him. Didn't I work fo' Old Marse 'fo' he died,
+an' didn' my ole man work fo' him, an' ain't I allus been a-workin' fo'
+Ole Miss and Missy Dorothy? Him an' me's been bred up togedder; I'se
+been a-totin' with him eber since he wuz born, ain't I, Marse Dick?'
+
+"He paused amid a dead silence. None of us spoke. I looked at Randolph
+and saw that he was gripping his pipe hard between his teeth.
+
+"'Well, gem'men, I doesn't want leab Marse Dick, ef I is a free nigger,
+an' I doesn't want you ter let 'em tek me away from him, cuz he got no
+one else ter look out fo' him, an' Azam an' Bur'pore an' de dogs, an'
+Ole Miss say when I lef' de Hall how I was neber to leab Marse
+Dick--nohow. An', gem'men, you won't let 'em, will yer?'
+
+"He waited for our assurance. Oh, the constraint of generations of New
+England character! It was so difficult for us to say what we felt. Dick
+was staring out under the trees with glistening eyes. Some fellow made a
+few halting remarks and said we'd stick up for him and Moses to the last
+man, and then we all pounded Moses on the back, and Dick got out some
+more Port and we had another toast, but something had hit us hard."
+
+Mr. Curtis closed his eyes and leaned back his head for a moment as if
+trying to recall some forgotten memory.
+
+"The next evening," he continued presently, "we were both sitting before
+the fire. Jim lay as usual beneath the table, his head pointing toward
+the door. The lamps had not yet been lit and the windows, I remember,
+were open, for the day had been warm--one of those Cambridge
+Indian-summer days. From the lower end of the Yard came a confused
+murmur of voices, mingled with occasional shouts. The voices grew
+louder, and shortly there came a loud cheer, followed by the tramp of
+many feet. I stepped to the window and saw through the dusk a cluster of
+men moving slowly up the sidewalk by Massachusetts Hall. In a moment I
+realized that the time might be at hand for the application of my
+roommate's recently declared principles. With a distinct feeling of
+apprehension I drew in my head and was about hurriedly to suggest a
+walk, when there came the sound of flying feet, and Moses, with scared
+face and starting eyes, burst into the room.
+
+"'Oh, Marse Dick,' he cried in a trembling voice, 'dey's a-comin' ter
+kill yer an' tek me away from yer. Dey's goin' ter hurt yer drefful!
+Doan' let 'em do it, Marse Curtis!'
+
+"Dick had risen quietly and was now engaged in lighting the lamp upon
+the center table, while I shut and locked both door and windows. Jim got
+up from his place beneath the table and watched us uneasily. The noise
+of the crowd grew nearer. Then suddenly I heard a sharp click behind me
+and turned to see Randolph holding one of the silver-mounted pistols
+which he had taken from its case upon the mantel. He was calmly engaged
+in loading.
+
+"'Look here, Dick!' I cried, 'for Heaven's sake put that back!'
+
+"Before I could say another word our assailants entered the hallway of
+the building. There came a babel of voices, followed by a loud pounding
+upon the door. We returned no answer. Then there were shouts of:
+
+"'Run him out!'
+
+"'Liberty forever!'
+
+"'No slaves in Harvard!'
+
+"'Smash in the door!'
+
+"This last suggestion was accompanied by a yell and a rush against the
+door, which swayed inward, and, the lock snapping, burst open. There was
+an instant's hesitation on the part of the men outside; then they began
+to surge through the narrow doorway. Randolph quickly raised his pistol.
+
+"'Back!' he shouted. 'Leave the room!' Instinctively they retreated. I
+can see them now, crowding out through the doorway. Just here, where I
+am sitting, in the full light of the lamp, stood Randolph, the barrel of
+his pistol glistening wickedly. There was a cold gleam in his eyes and a
+drawn look about his mouth. Before him stood Jim, tail switching, and
+lips curled back in a snarl that showed all his sharp teeth, while in
+the background cowered Moses, fear pictured upon every feature, his
+eyeballs gleaming white in the shadowy doorway of the bedroom.
+
+"'I warn you, gentlemen,' said Randolph haughtily. 'I order you to leave
+the room. I shall shoot the first man that crosses my threshold.'
+
+"'Bosh!' cried a voice. 'Hear him!'
+
+"'D----d slave owner!' shouted another.
+
+"'Throw him out!'
+
+"Watkins thrust himself forward.
+
+"'Bah! I'm not afraid of any rum-drinking Southerner! He hasn't the
+nerve to shoot!'
+
+"'Look out!' called some one.
+
+"There was a sudden rush from outside and Watkins either sprang or was
+pushed, probably the latter, through the door. At the same instant there
+was a flash, a report, a snarl, a loud cry, a tumult of feet. The smoke
+cleared slowly away, showing the door empty. Across the threshold lay a
+sophomore, while over him stood Jim, motionless, with his feet on the
+man's chest and his teeth close to his face.
+
+"Randolph laid the smoking pistol upon the table and pointed grimly to a
+splintered crack in the strip above the door.
+
+"'Come here, Jim!' he called. The dog unwillingly drew away, still eying
+the man on the floor, who, finding himself unhurt, began to blubber
+loudly.
+
+"'You are free, suh,' remarked Randolph scornfully. 'Don't let me detain
+you.'
+
+"Watkins slowly and fearfully scrambled to his feet, and then, like a
+flash, vanished into the darkness.
+
+"'Golly, Marse Dick,' exclaimed Moses in an awestruck voice, 'I thought
+you'd killed that gem'man, sho'!'
+
+[Illustration: "'Back,' he shouted."]
+
+"'Give us a glass of brandy, Moses!' said his master, extinguishing the
+light. 'Where are they, Jack?'
+
+"I raised the window and looked out. The sophomores were gathered in an
+excited group about Jim's victim, gazing at our window, and talking
+loudly among themselves. Randolph reloaded the pistol and stepped to the
+door.
+
+"'Pleased to see you at any time, gentlemen,' he said. 'But just now I
+want to go to bed and don't like noise. Don't let me keep you. While I
+sometimes miss a single bird I'm not so bad at a covey. Now off with
+you!'
+
+"Again he whipped up the pistol into position. It looked even more
+wicked in the starlight than it had done inside. With one accord the
+crowd broke and ran, Watkins well in the lead.
+
+"Randolph came inside, lighted the lamp, and tossed off the brandy.
+
+"'By Gad, suh,' he drawled with a laugh. 'They really thought they were
+going to be murdered. You Yankees don't seem gifted with any sense of
+humor. Here, Moses, run around to my friends' rooms and give them my
+compliments and invite them all to the tavern for a bowl of punch.'"
+
+Ralph clapped his hands together.
+
+"Right in this very room!" he cried, "right in this room!" Then he
+jumped to his feet and again critically examined the door. "Just as
+fresh as ever!" he remarked delightedly. "Why, but that Randolph was a
+ripper! And to think it all happened right between these four walls and
+we never have heard a word about it before!"
+
+"Tell us some more about him," said I. "What did the faculty say?"
+
+"The faculty considered the case," replied Mr. Curtis, "but we never
+heard from them in regard to it. Of course the story got all around the
+college and Watkins was unmercifully guyed. But he had his turn."
+
+"How was that?" inquired Ralph. "Do go on."
+
+"I don't know," returned Mr. Curtis. "What do you think of Randolph?"
+
+"The best ever!" pronounced Ralph with conviction.
+
+"It's hard to resist such an enthusiastic audience--and so insistent,"
+smiled Mr. Curtis. "Well, they let him alone after that, and he pursued
+the even tenor of his way and increased in wisdom and stature and in
+favor--at least with man.
+
+"I can only tell you about Randolph's leaving college, and that takes me
+to those sadder times of which I spoke. It was late in the spring, when
+none of us had any longer time or inclination to think of college
+distinctions or college jealousies. We were all overwhelmed at the
+thought of the impending conflict. Already most of the Southerners had
+departed for their homes.
+
+"You see, I'm trying to give you an impression--a picture of a chap I
+believe to have been one of the truest gentlemen that ever came here--I
+feel you're entitled to know whose room it is you occupy and to share in
+these memories, which are, after all, the best thing left in my lonely
+old bachelor existence. When I tell you the rest and how we parted never
+to meet again you won't be able to get a true understanding of it unless
+you can grasp the real spirit of the times, the environment, the
+intensity of the whole affair.
+
+"Here I was rooming with a flamboyant Southerner who fully intended to
+enlist as soon as his native State should declare herself, when four of
+my uncles had already joined the Union army. Of course I wanted to go,
+but my father wouldn't hear of it. The whole miserable business only
+drew Randolph and me the closer together. I do not think that his
+performance with the pistol had increased his popularity; in fact, the
+sympathies of the undergraduates seemed on the whole to be with Watkins,
+and the general sentiment that he was the aggrieved party. If Dick had
+taken his medicine in good part it would doubtless have been better for
+him in the end. You see, it gave his slanderers a handle and they made
+the most of it. Neither did he abate any of those idiosyncrasies of
+which I have spoken, but simply out of bravado, I suppose, rather let
+himself go. His cravats increased in brilliancy, his waistcoats
+multiplied their colors, and he was always careering around on Azam
+through the Yard and Harvard Square. He had a trick of riding suddenly
+out of nowhere, and appearing at recitations on horseback, turning his
+beast over to Moses at the door until the lecture had concluded. I have
+known Randolph at this period to keep his horse waiting an hour in order
+that he might ride him the length of the Yard. Don't get the impression
+that I am criticising him unfavorably; I am merely endeavoring to give
+you the point of view of the outsiders who didn't like him. By April the
+class was pretty evenly divided on the Randolph question. To half of us
+he was a rather Quixotic hero--to the rest a sort of cheap _poseur_.
+Watkins was untiring in his innuendoes, and in this he was aided to a
+considerable extent by the bitterness of the feeling between North and
+South. Of course, everything possible was being done to conciliate the
+Southern States, and it was the aim of the entire North to avert if
+possible an open rupture. At the theaters the most popular music was
+the old Southern airs and plantation melodies, and the audiences
+conscientiously cheered when 'Dixie' was played. Naturally this was
+vastly gratifying to Randolph, who failed, it seemed to me, to realize
+its significance. I don't think that anyone really believed actual
+hostilities would occur.
+
+"Then like a lash across our faces came the firing on Sumter. The whole
+North gasped and then the blood boiled in our veins. Right here under
+these trees the war fever burned hottest.
+
+"That night will never be forgotten by the class of '64. A huge
+gathering of students filled the Yard, lights twinkled in all the
+windows, torches flared here and there among the tree trunks, while
+between Stoughton Hall and where Thayer now stands, just in front of
+these very windows, the fellows concentrated in a solid mass, cheering
+the Union again and again, as flights of rockets burst high above the
+trees, sending down their floating canopies of sparks. Into that big
+elm, out there, some of the seniors were hoisting a transparency,
+bearing upon one side the words, 'The Constitution and Enforcement of
+the Laws,' and upon the other, 'Harvard for War.'
+
+"I was sitting in this window--Randolph in that. Perhaps I should have
+been out on the grass shouting with the others, but the loneliest fellow
+in Cambridge was at my side. Poor old chap! No wonder he was gloomily
+silent. Outside the cheering continued and the rockets roared away over
+the tops of the old buildings, until the students, forming into an
+irregular procession, marched away singing patriotic airs, some to go to
+their rooms, but most to pass the remainder of the evening at the
+tavern, discussing the President's proclamation.
+
+"Dick got up quietly and came over to the window. 'Jack,' he said
+sadly, 'the game's about up with me. I can't stay here any longer. Now
+that war is an actuality, I must go home, and the sooner the better.'
+
+"'But Virginia hasn't seceded,' I answered, 'and most likely won't. If
+she does there will be time enough for you to go.'
+
+"'Virginia _will_ secede,' he replied, 'and blood will be shed in this
+cursed quarrel within two weeks. I can't stay here when I might be at
+home helping on the cause. I shall think you are acting from interested
+motives,' he added, smiling.
+
+"'What does your mother say?'
+
+"'That's the trouble. She wants me to stay.'
+
+"I read the letter which he handed me. It was plain enough. The good
+lady desired to keep her only son out of harm's way just as long as
+possible, although through it all I could perceive her consciousness of
+the futility of any idea of preventing a Randolph from taking an active
+part, in the event of the secession of his native State. I urged
+parental duty and the foolishness of taking for granted something that
+might not happen at all. He, of course, was keen for fighting anyhow,
+but he was prepared to stand by his State's decision.
+
+"Of course, you couldn't blame a woman for wanting to keep her only son
+from throwing his life away. From the very first I had a presentiment
+that that was what it would amount to, and I was for doing all I could
+to help her carry out her purpose.
+
+"But as the days dragged on it became harder and harder to keep Randolph
+in Cambridge. You see, by that time he was practically the only
+Southerner left there, and he found himself in a strangely awkward, not
+to say painful, position. Even some of his friends, while their manner
+toward him remained the same, ceased to come as frequently to our room.
+
+"We kept trying to deceive ourselves all along about the seriousness of
+the crisis. None of us did much studying--Randolph, none at all. He rode
+about the country or sat in his room reading his last letters from the
+Hall, fretting to get away from Cambridge. Nor did his continued
+presence pass uncommented upon by the more fiery of our student
+patriots.
+
+"Several anonymous letters suggesting that his presence in Cambridge was
+undesirable had been left at his room, while, quite accidentally of
+course, it frequently happened that the sidewalk in front of our windows
+was selected as the forum for vehement denunciation of the South, of
+slavery and slaveholders. Randolph gripped his pipe grimly between his
+teeth and held his head higher than ever. Once he actually tried to
+address a meeting in front of the post office on the Inherent Right of
+Secession. But he was groaned down. While few of us had been
+Abolitionists we were now all Unionists, and '_Harvard was for war_.'
+
+"After this experience I noticed a change in his demeanor, for there
+were among that shouting, hissing crowd several who had been his
+friends. Although he must have known that Virginia's supposed loyalty
+was but a pretext on the part of his mother to keep him out of danger,
+his devotion to her was such that he remained without a word to bear the
+whips and scorns of time and the humiliation of his position, waiting
+manfully until the official action of the government of Virginia should
+set him free.
+
+"It must have been exquisite torture for a chap of his high spirit to be
+obliged to hear his principles and those of his father denounced on
+every side, and the South that he really loved with all his heart
+charged with treachery and infidelity.
+
+"In those days the top story of Dane was used by the upper classmen and
+the members of the Law School as a debating hall, their discussions
+being frequently marked by personalities and a bitterness of invective
+unparalleled even in the national Senate and House of Representatives.
+After the firing upon Sumter these meetings grew more and more
+turbulent, and were held almost daily.
+
+"Randolph had at last made up his mind that he would wait but a week
+longer at the latest, and had notified his mother of his decision. He
+intended to leave Cambridge on April 18th, and nothing that I could say
+had been able to shake his determination. I am inclined to believe that
+the action of Virginia on the question of secession would not have made
+any difference to him at this time. We had watched the departure of the
+Sixth and Eighth Massachusetts regiments for Washington, and you can
+easily imagine how irksome his enforced inaction must have been. All his
+arrangements had been completed and he and Moses were to leave Boston on
+an early morning train for the South.
+
+"The morning of the 17th dawned clear and brilliant. I left Dick and
+Moses packing books and dismantling the room, and walked across the Yard
+to a recitation in Massachusetts Hall. After that I remember I attended
+a lecture in some scientific course, chemistry, I believe, in
+University, and about eleven o'clock wandered over to the square to see
+if there were any fresh war bulletins. A group of excited people was
+gathered about the telegraph office gesticulating toward a strip of
+foolscap pasted in the window, and it was really unnecessary for me to
+push my way among them and read what was written there: '_Virginia
+secedes_.' The words had almost a familiar look--we had waited for them
+so long.
+
+"With the intention of telling Randolph the news I hurried across the
+square. I did not get far, however. Just on the other side, tethered to
+a post in front of the door of Dane Hall, stood Azam. He whinnied when
+he saw me, for by this time we were old friends. His presence there
+could only mean that Dick was inside, and with a qualm of apprehension I
+pushed open the door and started up the stairs. From above came the hum
+of voices followed by confusion and silence. Then as I reached the
+landing I caught the tones of a familiar voice--Randolph's--and hurrying
+up the flight leading to the second story breathlessly opened the door
+into the hall. It was packed with students and hot almost to
+suffocation, while the grins on most of the faces of those near me
+showed plainly the state of their feelings toward the speaker.
+
+"In the middle of the room, in a sort of cleared space, stood Randolph,
+dressed with his customary braggadocio in riding boots, spurs, and
+gauntlets. Whip and hat lay before him on the floor. The crowd were
+jeering, and his face was flushed with an angry red--a thing I'd never
+seen before.
+
+"'Virginia has seceded,' he shouted, challenging the whole room with a
+defiant glance. 'I thank God for it! Had she remained three days longer
+in the Union I should have felt my native State humiliated. She has been
+the last to take up the sword against oppression. Now may she be the
+last to lay it down. For the last decade the rights of Virginia and of
+the South have been trampled under foot. She has borne slander and
+insult. She has bowed to an unlawful interpretation of the Constitution
+and unjust administration of the laws. She has seen her lawful property
+snatched from her outstretched hands. They tell me she has rebelled--I
+rejoice that Virginia has resisted! Who dares say that a sovereign
+State, who by her assent alone was joined to a union of other States,
+has not the right to separate herself from them when such a partnership
+has become intolerable!'
+
+"He was being continually interrupted by hisses and groans and sarcastic
+comments from all sides, but he continued unabashed:
+
+"'Do you realize that you who once threw off the yoke of England have
+yourselves become oppressors and are trampling the sacred rights of
+others wantonly under foot? That you have become destroyers of liberty?
+Virginia!--Virginia--' His voice broke. Absurdly theatrical as it all
+was, I believe he had some of the fellows with him. Then Watkins
+shouted:
+
+'She is a traitor!'
+
+"'That's a lie!' replied the orator fiercely.
+
+"I never quite knew how Watkins had the nerve, but I suppose he thought
+that Randolph was down and out, and he may have really believed that
+poor Dick was just a swaggering braggart, after all. Anyhow, before any
+of us realized what had happened, he had sprung forward and struck
+Randolph in the face with his cap, exclaiming:
+
+'Take that, you _Reb_!'
+
+"An extraordinary stillness fell upon us. I thought for a moment that
+Randolph would fall, for he turned deathly pale and his hands twitched
+as if he were going to have an epileptic fit. He swayed, recovered
+himself, tried to speak, choked, and finally said in a hoarse whisper:
+
+"'I suppose you understand what that means?'
+
+"Then in the silence he stooped, picked up his whip and hat, and looking
+straight before him strode out of the hall. I followed automatically.
+
+"The door behind us shut out a tremendous roar of laughter, in which
+could be distinguished cries of 'You're done for now, Watkins!' 'Better
+make your will, old chap!' We were hardly clear of the building before
+the whole meeting adjourned with a rush, pounding down the stairs with
+such impetuosity that it is a wonder they didn't carry the rickety
+structure along with them.
+
+"Shades of John Harvard and Cotton Mather! A duel was to be fought in
+Harvard College! The rumor flew from the college pump to the tavern; it
+sprang from lip to lip--from window to window; sneaked by professors'
+houses in silence; and burst into garrulity upon the steps of Hollis and
+Stoughton. If you had asked one from the jocular groups gathered in
+front of the different buildings and upon the gravel paths what was to
+pay, he would probably have replied with a twinkle in his eye,
+'_Virginia has seceded._'
+
+"I must confess to you that I felt like a fool. It was the same feeling
+that I had experienced in a lesser degree when my cavalier had kissed
+the hand of old Mrs. Podridge, but now it was clear I was playing Sancho
+Panza in earnest. I had followed Dick to the room and pleaded with him
+in vain. He was impervious to argument. There could be only one thing
+done under the circumstances. There was no question about it at all. He
+failed utterly to comprehend my alleged attitude in the case, or at any
+rate pretended to do so. Why hadn't he thrashed Watkins then and there?
+Simply because by so doing he'd have made himself nothing more nor less
+than a common brawler. It was not a case of a street fight, but of
+insulting a man's honor.
+
+"Of course I might have thrown him over. But somehow I couldn't leave
+Randolph to face the music all alone, and I knew well enough that
+laughter would be far harder for him to bear than the actual hatred or
+disapproval of his associates. And then he was going away the following
+morning and I might never see him again.
+
+"I'd hoped, and in fact expected, that Watkins would laugh in my face
+when I submitted Randolph's challenge. It would have been quite in
+keeping with the fellow's character and past performances, but he took
+the wind entirely out of my sails by the gravity with which he listened
+to what I had to say, and unhesitatingly chose '_pistols at twenty
+paces_.' Up to that time I'd felt merely that Dick had made an ass of
+himself and had rather unnecessarily dragged me into it, but now the
+other aspect of the thing--that I might become the accessory to a
+homicide--caused me a feeling of revolt against having anything to do
+with the affair.
+
+"I completed my arrangements with Watkins's second, a fellow named
+Scott, as quickly as possible, leaving to him most of the details. And
+then Dick and I took a long ride together in the country, supping at a
+farmhouse and not reaching home until after nine o'clock.
+
+"Randolph roused me from fitful slumbers early next morning by holding
+the lamp to my face, and I saw that he was fully dressed.
+
+"'You haven't been to bed at all!' I cried in reproach.
+
+"'I had no time. I've been writing,' he replied, as he replaced the
+lamp in the study. A dim suggestion of the dawn came through the
+windows, and the complete silence was broken only by the snapping of the
+fire which Moses had kindled and over which he was boiling coffee. While
+I hurried into my clothes Dick reëntered my room with a packet in his
+hand and sat down upon the bed.
+
+"'Jack,' said he, cheerily enough, 'of course there's no use disguising
+things. The beggar may wing me, and if anything happens I want you to
+take this to my mother. I'd like you to have the horses and--and Jim.
+You'll see that Moses gets back, won't you?'
+
+"O Dick!' I almost sobbed. 'Of course I'll do exactly as you say, but
+it's not too late, and perhaps Watkins will apologize or agree to fight
+it out with fists. What's the use of shooting at each other?'
+
+"'You can't understand!' he sighed. 'Well, here's the packet. Don't
+forget now.' He began to whistle 'Dixie' and oil his pistols. Two years
+later I learned that his father had been killed in a duel at Paxton
+Court House.
+
+"'Coffee's ready,' announced Moses. 'Look out, Marse Curtis, it's hot.'
+He laid two smoking cups upon the table, and Dick poured a finger of
+brandy into each.
+
+"'To the cause!' said he with a gay laugh.
+
+"'To the cause!' cried I.
+
+"And we drained them--each to his own.
+
+"From a distant steeple came four widely separated and mournful notes.
+
+"'We must be off!' exclaimed Dick, throwing on his greatcoat. 'Have the
+horses at the bridge, Moses, in twenty minutes.'
+
+"He thrust his pistol into his pocket and linking his arm through mine
+led me into the Yard. A cold mist hung over the lawn and the red
+buildings looked black in the vague light. A silence as of the grave was
+everywhere. At certain angles the windows looked out like blank,
+whitish, dead faces.
+
+"'On a morning like this,' remarked Dick, 'my great-aunt Shirley should
+be about. Joyful, isn't it?'
+
+"I was in no mood for joking. Already the effect of the brandy had
+vanished and a chill was creeping through my body. My arm trembled and
+Randolph felt it.
+
+"'Dear me, Jack!' he cried as we passed out into the Square, 'this will
+never do! Cheer up, man! Ague is contagious at this hour of the
+morning.'
+
+"I made a heroic effort to restrain the dance of my muscles. Our steps
+made a loud rattling on the cobblestones of the Square, but we met no
+one and were soon well on our way to the river. As we trudged along the
+sky grew lighter, and crossing the bridge I noticed that the roofs of
+old Cambridge showed black against the whiteness of the dawning.
+Everywhere the mist covered the downs with a thick mantle, and a light
+breeze had sprung up, which set it drifting and swirling fantastically.
+The creaking of the draw was the only sound in the heavy silence, save
+the lapping of the water against the sunken piles, and behind us the
+faint clatter of hoofs which told us that Moses was on his way.
+
+"We left the road and started across the downs, and the mist thinned as
+the day neared its breaking. A quarter of a mile away three figures
+moved slowly along the river.
+
+"Who's the third man?' asked Randolph.
+
+"'Watkins wanted a doctor,' I replied. He gave no answer, but strode
+rapidly over the harsh grass and dry reeds of the marshy fields. No
+note of bird added touch of life to the gray scene, and the three dim
+shapes before us seemed more like phantoms than fellow-creatures.
+Although warm from our half-mile walk, a cold perspiration broke out all
+over my body and I once more lost control of my muscles. Indeed, had not
+Dick pulled me somewhat roughly on, I doubt if my legs could have held
+me up, so intense was my fear of what was coming.
+
+"Scott, as we approached, came to meet us, and without further formality
+paced off the distance. Then, quite as if it were a common affair with
+him, he examined the priming of our pistols and offered them to me for
+selection. I took one, almost dropping it in my nervousness, and passed
+the weapon to Dick, who pressed my hand for a moment before
+relinquishing it. Hardly a word had been spoken, and before I knew it
+the two were in their places. The spot chosen was in a bend of the
+sluggish river, and at this point the mist had entirely blown away. Each
+raised his pistol and took aim, just as the first claret streaks of dawn
+shot up into the east. The water swept by, oily and purple, with here
+and there a swirl of iridescent color. A heron rose with a roar of
+flapping wings and rustled away into the mist, squawking harshly, and
+the strong, salt breath of the sea floated across the marshes and set me
+sneezing.
+
+"'One!' called Scott sharply. 'Two--three-- Fire!'
+
+"The two reports seemed but as one, two tiny spurts of white smoke
+leaped from the pistols, there was a sharp groan, and Watkins reeled,
+staggered, and fell upon his back among the reeds, his left hand
+grasping convulsively at a tuft of grass beside him. Randolph stood
+motionless with the smoking pistol in his hand, his eyes riveted upon
+the body on the ground, over which both the doctor and Scott were
+bending anxiously. Then the latter raised himself with a look of horror
+on his face, and said wildly:
+
+"'O God! You've killed him!'
+
+"'How is he, doctor?' asked Randolph unemotionally.
+
+"The doctor placed his hand to the heart of the man on the ground. Then
+he announced:
+
+"'He is dead. His heart has ceased to beat.'
+
+"I don't know exactly what happened after that. I think I fainted, for I
+have a dim recollection of some one thrusting a handkerchief strong with
+ammonia into my face. But the first thing I rightly recollect is
+striding hand in hand with Randolph over the downs toward the bridge,
+where Moses was in waiting with the two horses.
+
+"I was conscious of a hurried parting with Dick, of his saying that of
+course he could never come back, and that I must not think the less of
+him for what he had done, and that we must never forget one another. And
+then he leaped on Azam's back and galloped away in the direction of
+Boston with Moses riding hard behind him, just as the sun burst red
+above the roofs of Harvard College through the mist.
+
+"I stood there for a moment and then I ran, ran anywhere, until I
+thought that I should drop; until the pain in my side seemed eating me
+up; and when I really came to my senses I found myself wandering on the
+high road hard by Lexington. I sneaked into the back door of a farmhouse
+and asked for some milk and bread, but the woman refused me and, I
+thought, looked at me with suspicion. Probably they were already
+arranging for my arrest and a warrant had been issued. Visions of a
+trial as an accessory for murder in the East Cambridge court house, and
+of a judge with a black cap--a _hanging_ judge--nearly crazed me with
+apprehension. But I had only myself to blame. I could have prevented it.
+He could not have fought alone. And I remember feeling rather sorry for
+Watkins--that he hadn't been such a bad fellow, after all. I lay under a
+tree most of the afternoon, and I can't say which emotion was uppermost,
+fear or regret. It never entered my mind that I should escape with
+anything less than a long term in State's prison.
+
+"It came back to me again and again throughout that interminable
+afternoon, how, as I was hurrying with Dick across the downs after the
+fatal shot, and the sun had jumped above the roofs before us, I had
+turned for an instant and seen the doctor and Scott still bending over
+Watkins's body. Then, somehow realizing that flight was impossible, and
+feeling so utterly wretched that I cared nothing for what became of me,
+I begged a lift from a passing teamster most of the way back to
+Cambridge, and shortly after nine o'clock stealthily entered the College
+Yard. The dismantled room opened bare and empty like a sepulcher before
+me, and in its gravelike silence my steps echoed loudly as I crossed the
+floor and threw myself upon the window seat. With a rush the vanished
+happiness of our life together came over me. Never had any days been
+half so sweet as those we had passed in this very room. And now he had
+fled--a murderer--leaving me, his accomplice, to face the consequences
+alone.
+
+"Presently a group of fellows came strolling up the walk and seated
+themselves upon the step by the window, where Dick and I had always sat.
+I resented their presence, for it only served to heighten my desolation.
+One of them was evidently telling a funny story. For a moment or two I
+purposely paid no attention; then like a douche of cold water I
+recognized the voice. The revulsion of feeling almost sickened me.
+
+"'Yes,' the jubilant Watkins was saying, 'didn't I always say he was an
+ass? Why, the trick would've been impossible on any less of a fool.
+Curtis can't be much better. When the pistols were produced Scott merely
+turned his back and had no difficulty in reloading them with graphite
+bullets, for the mist was pretty thick, and he says Curtis was shivering
+like a wet dog. All I had to do was a little play-acting and, while I
+assure you it is easier to play dead than to play doctor, Hunt carried
+out his part to perfection. In fact, the whole thing went off like a
+full-dress rehearsal. Randolph must be half-way to Virginia by this
+time. I reckon they'll make him colonel of a regiment when they hear
+he's killed a Yankee in a duel!'"
+
+Mr. Curtis spoke with a shade of asperity in his voice, and from where I
+sat I could see disappointment in Ralph's face.
+
+"Why go further?" continued Mr. Curtis. "I brazened it out as best I
+could and denounced the whole wretched performance as a piece of
+unmitigated cowardice which should brand Watkins forever as unworthy the
+society of self-respecting men. The college, as a whole, however, did
+not take that position, although I never suffered very heavily for my
+part in the proceeding.
+
+"And now, boys, you've had the whole story, and you know, in part at
+least, something of what Randolph was like."
+
+"I bet I know that Watkins!" exclaimed Ralph. "Was his name _Samuel J._
+Watkins? There's a fellow in our class named Samuel J. Watkins, Jr. He
+makes me tired. Sometimes his father comes out to see him--an old fellow
+with bedspring whiskers. He looks just mean enough to put up a trick
+like that."
+
+"That was Watkins's name," admitted Mr. Curtis. "But he wasn't a bad
+fellow, after all, and later we became good friends." He took out his
+watch. "Heavens, it's half-past twelve! And to think I've been sitting
+here, the night before one of your examinations probably, dreaming away
+three hours and a half and boring you chaps to death. I had no idea it
+was so late."
+
+"I am awfully glad you did," said Ralph. "I tell you we don't have men
+like that nowadays. At least I don't know of any. But what became of
+Randolph--afterwards?"
+
+"Dick got it at Antietam!" he answered.
+
+Both of us felt very much embarrassed. But then, as Mr. Curtis lit
+another cigar, picked up his hat and cane, and held out his hand,
+Ralph's insatiable curiosity got the better of him.
+
+"And Moses--was that he with you to-day at the memorial service? We saw
+you, you know."
+
+"Yes," replied Mr. Curtis. "After Mrs. Randolph's death Moses came North
+to live with me."
+
+I thought Ralph had gone far enough, but I was rather glad afterwards
+that, as he took our guest's hand in parting, he said impulsively:
+
+"I think Mr. Randolph was a splendid gentleman!"
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note: The following typographical errors, present in the
+original text, have been corrected.
+
+"A shiver of terrror" was changed to "A shiver of terror".
+
+A quotation mark was removed before "Flynt was not here, was he?"
+
+"he in-inquired of 'Dooley'" was changed to "he inquired of 'Dooley'".
+
+"cabs, lan aus, and wagons" was changed to "cabs, landaus, and wagons".
+
+A quotation mark was added before "Sorry to have the game broken up".
+
+A misspaced quotation mark was moved from after "turning to the court"
+to before "that he would like to have his pistol".
+
+"in acordance with inviolable custom" was changed to "in accordance with
+inviolable custom".
+
+Some words, in particular Chinese place names, were spelled
+inconsistently in the original text.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mortmain, by Arthur Cheny Train
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORTMAIN ***
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diff --git a/37346-0.zip b/37346-0.zip
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mortmain, by Arthur Cheny Train
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mortmain
+
+Author: Arthur Cheny Train
+
+Release Date: September 8, 2011 [EBook #37346]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORTMAIN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MORTMAIN
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "'The problem, gentlemen, of limb-grafting has been
+solved.'" (Page 4)]
+
+
+
+
+MORTMAIN
+
+BY ARTHUR TRAIN
+
+
+NEW YORK
+CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
+1928
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY ESS ESS PUBLISHING COMPANY
+COPYRIGHT, 1905, 1906, 1907, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY
+COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY THE METROPOLITAN MAGAZINE COMPANY
+COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY ASSOCIATED SUNDAY MAGAZINES
+COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY THE BUTTERICK PUBLISHING COMPANY
+
+Printed in the United States of America
+
+
+[Illustration: THE SCRIBNER PRESS]
+
+
+
+
+             To
+            AMOS
+     ESNESTO AND SANDRO
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                       PAGE
+ MORTMAIN                                 1
+ THE RESCUE OF THEOPHILUS NEWBEGIN       65
+ THE VAGABOND                           109
+ THE MAN HUNT                           131
+ NOT AT HOME                            239
+ A STUDY IN SOCIOLOGY                   251
+ THE LITTLE FELLER                      269
+ RANDOLPH, '64                          275
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+                                                             FACING
+                                                               PAGE
+
+  "'The problem, gentlemen, of limb-grafting has been
+  solved!'"                                              Frontispiece
+
+  "Mortmain . . . lay motionless on the floor"                      22
+
+  "His blunt fingers twisted into the flesh deeper and deeper"      56
+
+  "She . . . studied the faces alternately"                        156
+
+  "The distinguished Flynn burst into a deluge of oratory"         262
+
+  "He caught sight of the waiting Maria"                           266
+
+  "'Back,' he shouted"                                             296
+
+
+
+
+MORTMAIN
+
+
+I
+
+
+Sir Penniston Crisp was a man of some sixty active years, whose ruddy
+cheeks, twinkling blue eyes, and convincingly innocent smile suggested
+forty. At thirty he had been accounted the most promising young surgeon
+in London; at forty he had become one of the three leading members of
+his profession; at fifty he had amassed a fortune and had begun to
+accept only those cases which involved complications of true scientific
+interest, or which came to him on the personal application of other
+distinguished physicians.
+
+Like many another in the medical world whose material wants are
+guaranteed, he found solace and amusement only in experimentation along
+new lines of his peculiar hobbies. His days were spent between his
+book-lined study with its cheery sea-coal fire and his adjacent
+laboratory, where three assistants, all trained Bachelors of Science,
+conducted experiments under his personal direction.
+
+His daily life was as well ordered as his career had been. Rising at
+seven, Sir Penniston partook of a meager breakfast, attended to his
+trifling personal affairs, read his newspaper, dictated his letters, and
+by nine was ready to don his uniform and receive his sterilized
+instruments from his young associate, Scalscope Jermyn, a capable and
+cheerful soul after Crisp's own heart. An operating theater adjoined the
+laboratory, and here the baronet made it a point to perform once each
+week, in the presence of various surgeons who attended by invitation, a
+few difficult and dangerous operations upon patients sent to him from
+the City Hospital.
+
+When Jermyn was with his familiars he was wont to refer to his master as
+the "howlingist cheese in surgery." This was putting it mildly, for,
+although Sir Penniston was indubitably, if you choose, quite the
+"howlingist cheese" in surgery, he was also a pathfinder, an explorer
+into the mysteries of the body and the essence of vitality in bone and
+tissue. He could do more things to a cat in twenty minutes than would
+naturally occur in the combined history of a thousand felines. He could
+handle the hidden arteries and vessels of the body as confidently and
+accurately as you or I would tie a shoe string. He had housed a tramp
+for thirteen months and inserted a plate-glass window in that
+gentleman's exterior in order that he might with the greater certainty
+study the complicated processes of a digestion stimulated after a
+chronic lack of food. He experimented on men, women, children,
+elephants, apes, ostriches, guinea pigs, rabbits, turtles, frogs, and
+goldfish. He could alter the shape of a nose, or perfect an irregular
+ear in the twinkling of an instrument; remove a human heart and insert
+it still beating without inconvenience to its owner; and was as much at
+home among the vessels of Thebesius as he was on Piccadilly Circus.
+
+He was single, kept but one servant--a Jap--neither smoked nor drank,
+attended the worst play he could find every Saturday night, and gave
+ponderous dinners to his professional brethren on Wednesdays. He was the
+dean of his order, and bade fair to remain so for a long time to come--a
+calm, passionless craftsman in flesh and bone. His rivals frequently
+were heard to say that there was nothing surgical in heaven or earth
+that Crisp would not undertake. A faint odor of chloroform followed his
+well-regulated progress through existence.
+
+On the morning upon which this narrative opens Sir Penniston had entered
+his laboratory with that urbanity so characteristic of him. A white
+frock hung jauntily upon his well-filled, if slenderly nourished,
+proportions, his blue eyes sparkled with good-natured activity, and his
+long, muscular hands rubbed themselves together in a manner which
+signified that they were anxious to be at the skilled work in which
+their owner took so keen a pleasure. Scalscope was already on hand, and
+with a bundle of dripping instruments in his grasp met his master
+halfway between the minor operating table and the antiseptic bath.
+
+"Ah, good morning, Scalscope! How is the Marchioness of Cheshire this
+fine morning?"
+
+Scalscope smiled deferentially at the little joke.
+
+"I presume you mean Lady Tabitha? Her ladyship is doing
+splendidly--better, I fancy, than could be expected under the
+circumstances."
+
+"Excellent, Scalscope! Delightful! Where is she?"
+
+At that moment a large Maltese cat, cognizant by some unknown instinct
+that she was the subject of this matutinal conversation, stalked slowly
+out of a patch of sunshine and rubbed herself between Sir Penniston's
+broadcloth-covered calves. The surgeon bent over and felt carefully of
+her foreleg, but the feline did not flinch; on the contrary, she
+screwed round her head and thrust it into the doctor's hand.
+
+"Perfect!" exclaimed Sir Penniston, his face lighting with a smile of
+scientific satisfaction. "Absolutely perfect! Scalscope, you have lived
+to participate in the highest achievement of modern surgery! Is the
+patient in the operating room? Very good. The gentlemen assembled?
+Excellent! While you are administering the somni-chloride I will
+announce our success."
+
+He bowed to the other assistants and, followed by the Marchioness of
+Cheshire, opened the door which led to the platform of the operating
+theater. Some dozen or fifteen professional-looking gentlemen rose as he
+made his appearance and bowed. A young woman with her arm in a sling sat
+by the table attended by a couple of women nurses.
+
+"Good morning, gentlemen! Good morning!" remarked Sir Penniston. "Mr.
+Jermyn, will you kindly prepare the patient? My friends, I have the
+pleasure of being able to announce to you, and thus permitting you in a
+measure to share in, what I regard as the most extraordinary achievement
+of our profession."
+
+A murmur of interest and appreciation made itself audible from the
+physicians who had resumed their seats upon the benches. If Sir
+Penniston regarded anything as remarkable, it must indeed be so, and
+they awaited his next words expectantly.
+
+"The problem, gentlemen, of limb-grafting has been solved!" he announced
+modestly.
+
+The assembled surgeons gazed at one another in amazement.
+
+"You may perhaps recall," continued the baronet, "that it has for years
+been my particular hobby, or, I should more properly say, theory, that
+there was no reason in the world why, if a severed finger or a nose
+could be replaced by surgery, the same should not be true of a major
+part, such as a hand or leg; and why, if a limb once severed could be
+replaced upon its stump, another person's might not be used.
+
+"Many gentlemen eminent in our profession, some of whom I believe I see
+before me, gave it as their opinion that such an operation was
+impossible. A few--and most of these, I regret to say, were upon the
+other side of the Atlantic--agreed with me that it could and would
+ultimately be accomplished. I studied the problem for years. Was it our
+inability to nourish a part once severed or so to reënervate it as to
+unite tendons, muscles, or bone? The latter surely gave no trouble.
+Tendons were sutured every day, and under favorable circumstances their
+functions were restored, while nerves were frequently sutured and
+functional restoration recorded.
+
+"The question, therefore, seemed to narrow itself down to whether or not
+it was impossible to restore an arterial supply once cut off. Veins, of
+course, were frequently cut and sutured, and performed perfectly
+afterwards. Was there no way to restore an artery? In other words, could
+a limb once severed be sufficiently nourished to restore it? This, then,
+became my special study--a fascinating study indeed, involving as it did
+the possibilities of untold benefit to mankind."
+
+Sir Penniston paused and glanced toward the table upon which was
+extended the now almost unconscious form of the patient. There was still
+plenty of time for him to conclude his remarks.
+
+"With a view, therefore, to observing whether a thin glass tube would be
+tolerated in a sterilized state within an artery (the only possible
+means I could devise to allow a continued flow of blood and
+contemporaneous restoration), I made a number of half-inch pieces to
+suit the caliber of a dog's femoral, constricted them very slightly to
+an hour-glass shape, and smoothed their ends by heat, so that no surface
+roughness should induce clotting. Cutting the femorals across, I tied
+each end on the tube by a fine silk thread, and tied the thread ends
+together. Primary union resulted, and the dog's legs were as good as
+ever! The first step had been successfully accomplished."
+
+The assembled surgeons clapped their hands faintly in token of
+appreciation, and one or two murmured, "My word!-- Extraordinary!--
+Marvelous!" Sir Penniston bowed slightly and resumed:
+
+"I now added one more step to my experiments. I dissected out the
+trachial artery and vein near the axilla of a dog's forelimb, and,
+holding these apart, amputated the limb through the shoulder muscles and
+sawed through the bone, leaving the limb attached only by the vessels. I
+then sutured the bone with a silver wire and the nerves with fine silk.
+Each muscle I sutured by itself with catgut, making a separate series of
+continuous suturing of the _fascia lata_ and skin. The leg was then
+enveloped in sterilized dressing, a liberal use of iodoform gauze being
+the essential part. Over all, cotton and a plaster jacket were placed,
+leaving him three legs to walk on. The dog's leg united perfectly."
+
+The assembled gentlemen broke into loud applause. The patient was lying
+motionless, her deep inspirations showing that she was under the
+anæsthetic. But Sir Penniston was now lost in the enthusiasm of his
+subject.
+
+"Thus, gentlemen, I demonstrated that, if in an amputated limb an
+artery could be left, the limb would survive the division and reuniting
+of everything else, and had good ground for the belief that if an
+arterial supply could be restored to a completely amputated limb, _that_
+limb also might be grafted back to its original or to a corresponding
+stump.
+
+"The final experiment only remained--the complete amputation of a limb
+and its restoration--a combination of all the others--difficult,
+dangerous, delicate--and requiring much preparation, assistance, and
+time. I finally selected a healthy cat, amputated its foreleg, inserted
+a glass tube in the artery, and sutured bone, muscles, nerves, and skin.
+Complete restoration occurred! And after four months you have here
+before you this morning the cat herself, fat, well, and strong, and as
+good as ever!--Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!"
+
+The Marchioness of Cheshire ran quickly to Sir Penniston and leaped into
+his lap, while the gentlemen left the benches and hastened forward to
+seize the master's hand and to examine the cat in wonder.
+
+"There is nothing, therefore, in the way of grafting which cannot be
+successfully undertaken. A human arm or leg crushed at thigh or
+shoulder, and requiring amputation, would admit of Esmarch's bandage
+being applied to expel its blood and of being used after amputation. Why
+not another man's blood as well as its owner's? No reason in the world!
+Had we here a suitable forearm ready to be applied I have no doubt but
+that I could successfully replace it upon the stump of the one I am now
+about to remove. Hereafter, so long as there are limbs enough to go
+round--so long as the demand does not transcend the supply--none of our
+patients need fear the permanent loss of a member!"
+
+The surgeons overwhelmed him with their congratulations, but Sir
+Penniston modestly waived them aside. His triumph was the triumph of
+science--and its purity was not marred by any thought of personal
+glorification.
+
+"The Crispan operation," some one whispered. The others caught it up.
+"The Crispan operation," they repeated. A slight look of gratification
+made itself apparent upon Sir Penniston's rosy countenance.
+
+"Thank you, gentlemen! Thank you! Mr. Jermyn, is the patient quite
+ready? Yes? We will proceed, gentlemen. My instruments, if you please."
+
+Among those who left the operating theater an hour later was Sir Richard
+Mortmain.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+The opalescent light from the bronze electric lamp on the mahogany
+writing table disclosed two gentlemen, whose attitudes and expressions
+left no doubt as to the serious import of their discussion. At the same
+time the _membra disjecta_ of afternoon tea which remained upon the teak
+tabaret, together with the still smoking butt of an Egyptian cigarette
+distilling its incense in a steadily perpendicular gray column toward
+the ceiling from a jade jar used as an ash receiver, showed that for one
+of them at least the situation had admitted of physical amelioration.
+The gentleman beside the table had rested his high, narrow forehead upon
+the delicate fingers of his left hand, and with contracted eyebrows was
+gazing in a baffled manner toward his companion, who had extended his
+limbs at length before the heavy chair in which he reclined, and with
+his elbows upon its arms was holding his finger tips lightly against
+each other before his face. To those who knew Ashley Flynt this meant
+that the last word had been spoken, and that nothing remained but to
+accept the situation as he stated it and follow his advice.
+
+His heavy yet shrewd countenance, whose florid hue bespoke a modern
+adjustment of golf to a more traditional use of port, had that cold,
+vacant look which it displayed when the mind behind the mask had
+recorded Q. E. D. beneath its unseen demonstration. The gentleman at
+the table twitched his shoulders nervously, slowly raised his head, and
+leaned back into his chair.
+
+"And you say that there is absolutely nothing which can be done?" he
+repeated mechanically.
+
+"I have already told you, Sir Richard," replied Flynt in even, incisive
+tones, "that the last day of grace expires to-morrow. Unless the three
+notes are immediately taken up you will be forced into bankruptcy. Your
+property and expectations are already mortgaged for more than they are
+worth. Your assets of every sort will not return your creditors--I
+should say your creditor--fifteen per cent. Seventy-nine thousand
+pounds, principal and interest--can you raise it or even a substantial
+part of it? No, not five thousand! You have no choice, so far as I can
+see, but to go into bankruptcy, unless--" He hesitated rather
+deprecatingly.
+
+"Well!" cried Sir Richard impatiently, "unless----"
+
+"Unless you marry."
+
+The baronet drew himself up and a flush crept into his cheeks and across
+his forehead.
+
+"As your legal adviser," continued Flynt unperturbed, "I give it as my
+opinion that your only alternative to bankruptcy is a suitable marriage.
+Of course, for a man of your position in society a mere engagement might
+be enough to----"
+
+Sir Richard sprang quickly to his feet and stepped in front of his
+solicitor.
+
+"To induce the money lenders to advance the amount necessary to put me
+on my feet? Bah! Flynt, how dare you make such a suggestion! If you were
+not my solicitor--Good heavens, that I should ever be brought to this!"
+
+Flynt shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"So far as that goes, bankruptcy is the cheapest way to pay one's
+debts."
+
+His client uttered an ejaculation of disgust. Then suddenly the red
+deepened in his cheeks and he clenched his white hand until the thin
+blue veins stood out like cords.
+
+"Curse him!" he cried in a voice shaken by anger. "Curse him now and
+hereafter! Why did I ever take advantage of his pretended generosity? He
+meant to ruin me! Why was I ever born with tastes that I could not
+afford to gratify? Why must I surround myself with music and flowers and
+marbles? He saw his chance, stimulated my extravagance, seduced my
+intellect, and now he casts me into the street a beggar! How I hate him!
+I believe I could _kill_ him!"
+
+Sir Richard turned quickly. The door had opened to admit the silent,
+deferential figure of Joyce, the butler.
+
+"Pardon me, Sir Richard. A clerk from Mr. Flynt's office, sir, with a
+package. Shall I let him in?"
+
+Mortmain still stood with his fist trembling in mid-air, and it was a
+moment before he regained sufficient control of himself to reply:
+
+"Yes, yes; let him in."
+
+The butler nodded to some one just behind him, and a nondescript,
+undersized man cringingly entered the room and stood hesitatingly by the
+threshold.
+
+"Have you the papers, Flaggs?" inquired Flynt.
+
+"Here, sir," replied the other, drawing forth a bundle tied with red
+tape and handing it to his employer.
+
+"Very good. You need not return to the office. Good night."
+
+"Good night, sir. Thank you, sir," mumbled Flaggs, and casting a
+furtive, beetling glance in the direction of Sir Richard, he shambled
+out.
+
+The solicitor followed him with his eye until the door had closed behind
+him, and then shrugged his shoulders for the second time.
+
+"My dear Sir Richard," he remarked, "many of our most distinguished
+peers have gone through bankruptcy. It will all be the same a year
+hence. Society will be as glad as ever to receive you. Your name will
+command the same respect and likely enough the same credit. Bankruptcy
+is still eminently respectable. As for Lord Russell--try to forget him.
+It is enough that you owe him the money."
+
+Mortmain's anger had been followed by the reaction of despair. Now he
+groped for a cigarette, and, drawing a jeweled match box from his
+pocket, lit it with trembling fingers.
+
+Flynt arose.
+
+"That's right!" he exclaimed; "just be sensible about it. Meet me
+to-morrow at my office at ten o'clock and we will call in Lord Russell's
+solicitors for a consultation. It will be amicable enough, I assure you.
+Well, I must be off. Good night." He extended his hand, but Mortmain had
+thrust his own into his trousers' pockets.
+
+"And you say nothing can prevent this?"
+
+"Why, yes," returned Flynt in a sarcastic tone; "I believe two things
+can do so."
+
+"Indeed," inquired Sir Richard. "What may they be?"
+
+Flynt had stepped impatiently to the door, which he now held half open.
+Sir Richard had failed to send him a draft for his last bill.
+
+"A fire from heaven to consume the notes--coupled with the death of Lord
+Russell--or your own. Good night!"
+
+The door closed abruptly and Sir Richard Mortmain was left alone.
+
+"The death of Lord Russell or my own!" he repeated with a harsh laugh.
+"Agreeable fellow, Flynt!" Then the bitter smile died out of his face
+and the lines hardened. Over on the heavy onyx mantel, between two
+grotesque bronze Chinese vases from whose ponderous sides dragons with
+bristling teeth and claws writhed to escape, a Sèvres clock chimed six,
+and was echoed by a dim booming from the outer hall.
+
+Mortmain glanced with regret about the little den that typified so
+perfectly the futility of his luxurious existence. The deadened walls
+admitted hardly a suggestion of the traffic outside. By a flower-set
+window the open piano still held the score of "Madame Butterfly," the
+opening performance of which he was to attend that evening with Lady
+Bella Forsythe. A bunch of lilies of the valley stood at his elbow upon
+the massive table that never bore anything upon its polished surface but
+an ancient manuscript, an etching, or a vase of flowers. Delicate
+cabinets showed row upon row of grotesque Capodimonte, rare Sèvres and
+Dresden porcelains, jade, and other examples of ceramic art. Two
+Rembrandts, a Corot, and a profile by Whistler occupied the wall space.
+The mantel was given over to a few choice antique bronzes, covered with
+verdigris. The only concession to modern utilitarianism was an extension
+telephone standing upon a bracket in the corner behind the fireplace.
+
+The sole surviving member of his family, Mortmain had inherited from
+his father, Sir Mortimer, a discriminating intellect and artistic
+tastes, united with a gentle, engaging, and unambitious disposition,
+derived from his Italian mother. Carelessly indifferent to his social
+inferiors, or those whom he regarded as such, he was brilliantly
+entertaining with his equals--a man of moods, conservative in habit, yet
+devoted to society, expensive in his mode of life, given to
+hospitality--and a spendthrift. These qualities combined to make him
+caviare to the general, an enigma to the majority, and the favorite of
+the few, whose favorite he desired to be. He had never married, for his
+calculation and his laziness had jumped together to convince him that he
+could be more comfortable, more independent, and more free to pursue his
+music and kindred tastes, if single. Altogether, Sir Richard, though
+perhaps a trifle selfish, was by no means a bad fellow, and one whose
+temperament fitted him to be what he was--a leader in matters of taste,
+a connoisseur, and an esteemed member of the gay world.
+
+No doubt, as Flynt had suggested, he could have liberated himself
+financially by donning the golden shackles of an aristocratic marital
+slavery. But his soul revolted at the thought of marrying for money, not
+only at the moral aspect of it, but because a certain individual
+tranquillity had become necessary to his mode of life. He was forty and
+a creature of habit. A conventional marriage would be as intolerable as
+earning his living. On the other hand, the odium of a bankruptcy
+proceeding, the publicity, the vulgarity of it, and the loss of prestige
+and position which it would necessarily involve brought him face to face
+with the only alternative which Flynt had flung at him in parting--the
+death of Lord Russell or his own.
+
+He had known that without being told. Months before, the silver-mounted
+pistol which was to round out his consistently inconsistent existence
+had been concealed among the linen in the bureau of his Louis XV
+bedroom, but it was to be invoked only when no other course remained.
+That nothing else did remain was clear. Flynt had read his client's
+sentence in that brutally unconscious jest.
+
+On the day of his interview with Flynt he was one of the most highly
+regarded critics of music and art in London, and his own brilliant
+accomplishments as a virtuoso had been supplemented by a lavish
+generosity toward struggling painters and musicians who found easy
+access to his purse and table, if not to his heart.
+
+He had introduced Drausche, the Austrian pianist, to the musical world
+at a heavy financial loss and had made several costly donations to the
+British Museum, in addition to which his collection of scarabs was one
+of the most complete on record and demanded constant replenishing to
+keep up to date. His expensive habits had required money and plenty of
+it, and when his patrimony had been exhausted he had mortgaged his
+expectations in his uncle's estate to launch the Austrian genius. It had
+been a lamentable failure. Mortmain's friends had said plainly enough
+that Drausche could play no better than his patron. This of itself
+implied no mean talent, but the public had resolutely refused to pay
+five shillings a ticket to hear the pianist, and the money was gone. Sir
+Richard had found himself in the hollow position of playing Mæcenas
+without the price, and rather than change his pose and his manner of
+life had borrowed twenty-five thousand pounds four years before from an
+elderly peer, who combined philanthropy and what some declared to be
+usury with a high degree of success.
+
+There were those who hinted that this eminently respectable aristocrat
+robbed Peter more than he paid Paul, but Lord Gordon Russell was a man
+with whose reputation it was not safe to take liberties. The next year
+Mortmain had renewed his note, and, in order to save his famous
+collection from being knocked down at Christie's, had borrowed
+twenty-five thousand more. The same thing happened the year after, and
+now all three notes were three days overdue.
+
+Sir Richard responded to the announcement of the little Sèvres clock by
+pressing a button at the side of his desk, which summons was speedily
+answered by Joyce.
+
+"My fur coat, if you please, Joyce."
+
+"Very good, sir." Joyce combined the eye of an eagle with the stolidity
+of an Egyptian mummy.
+
+Mortmain arose, stepped to the fire, rubbed his thin, carefully kept
+fingers together, then seated himself at the piano and played a few
+chords from the overture. As he sat there he looked anything but a
+bankrupt upon the eve of suicide--rather one would have said, a young
+Italian musician, just ready to receive and enjoy the crowning pleasures
+of life. The thin light of the heavily shaded lamps brought out the
+ivory paleness of his face and hands, and the delicate, sensitive
+outline of his form, as with eyes half closed and head thrown back he
+ran his fingers with facile skill across the keyboard.
+
+"Your coat, sir," said Joyce.
+
+Mortmain arose and presented his arms while the servant deftly threw on
+the seal-lined garment, and handed his master his silk hat, gloves, and
+gold-headed stick.
+
+"I am going for a short walk, Joyce. I shall be back by seven. You can
+reach me at the club, if necessary."
+
+Joyce held open the door of the study and then hurried ahead through the
+luxuriously furnished hall to push open the massive door at the
+entrance. On the threshold Mortmain turned and, looking Joyce in the
+eye, said sharply:
+
+"Why did you let that fellow Flaggs follow you to the door of my study,
+instead of leaving him in the hall?"
+
+"I beg pardon, sir," replied the servant, "but he slipped behind me
+afore I knew it, sir. He was a rum one, anyway, sir--a bit in liquor, I
+fancy, sir."
+
+Mortmain turned and passed out without reply. He hated intruders and had
+not liked the way in which Flynt had calmly received the clerk in his
+private study. On the whole, he regarded the solicitor as presuming.
+
+It was dark already and the street lamps glowed nebulously through the
+gathering fog. The air was chilly, and a thick mealy paste, half sleet,
+half water, formed a sort of icing upon the sidewalk, which made walking
+slippery and uncomfortable. Few people were abroad, for fashionable
+London was in its clubs and boudoirs, and the workers trudged in an
+entirely different direction.
+
+The club was but a few streets away, and it was only ten minutes after
+the hour when he entered it and strolled carelessly through the rooms.
+No one whom he cared particularly to see was there, and the fresh, if
+bitter, December air outside seemed vastly preferable to the stuffy
+atmosphere of the smoke-filled card and reading rooms. Therefore, as he
+had nearly an hour before it would be time to dress, he left the club,
+and, with the vague idea of extending his evening ramble, turned
+northward. Unconsciously he kept repeating Flynt's words: "The death of
+Lord Russell or your own." Then, without heed to where he was going, he
+fell into a reverie, in which he pondered upon the emptiness and
+uselessness of his life.
+
+At length he entered a large square, and found himself asking what was
+so familiar in the picket fence and broad flight of steps that led up to
+the main entrance of the mansion on the corner. A wing of the house made
+out into a side street and presented three brilliantly lighted windows
+to the night. Two were empty, but on the white shade of the third, only
+a few feet above the sidewalk, appeared the sharp shadow of a man's head
+bending over a table. Now and then the lips moved as if their owner were
+addressing some other occupant of the chamber. It was the head of an old
+man, bald and shrunken.
+
+Mortmain muttered an oath. What tricks was Fate trying to play with him
+by leading his footsteps to the house of the very man who, on the
+following morning, would ruin him as inevitably and inexorably as the
+sun would rise! A wave of anger surged through him and he shook his fist
+at the shadow on the curtain, exclaiming as he had done in his study
+half an hour before, "Curse him!"
+
+"Ain't got much bloomin' 'air, 'as 'e, guv'nor?" said a thick voice at
+his elbow.
+
+Sir Richard started back and beheld by the indistinct light of the
+street lamp the leering face of Flaggs, the clerk.
+
+"Tha'sh yer frien' S'Gordon Russell," continued the other with easy
+familiarity. "A bloomin' bad un, says I. 'Orrid li'l bald 'ead! Got'sh
+notes, too. _Your_ notes, S'Richard. Don't like 'im myself!"
+
+Mortmain turned faint. This wretched scrivener had stumbled upon or
+overheard his secret. That he was drunk was obvious, but that only made
+him the more dangerous.
+
+"Take yourself off, my man. It's too cold out here for you," ordered the
+baronet, slipping a couple of shillings into his hand.
+
+"Than' you, S'Richard," mumbled Flaggs, leaning heavily in Mortmain's
+direction. "I accept this as a 'refresher.' Although you've never given
+me a retainer! Ha! ha! Not so bad, eh? Lemme tell you somethin'. 'Like
+to kill 'im,' says you? Kill 'im, says I. Le's kill 'im together. 'Ere
+an' now! Eh?"
+
+"Leave me, do you hear?" cried the baronet. "You're in no condition to
+be on the street."
+
+Flaggs grinned a sickly grin.
+
+"Same errand as you, your worship. Both 'ere lookin' at li'l old bald
+'ead. Look at 'im now----"
+
+He raised his finger and pointed at the window, then staggered backward,
+lost his balance, and fell over the curb along the gutter. In another
+instant a policeman had him by the collar and had jerked him to his
+feet. The fall had so dazed the clerk that he made no resistance.
+
+"I 'ope 'e didn't hoffer you no violence, Sir Richard," remarked the
+bobby, touching his helmet with his unoccupied hand. "Hit's
+disgraceful--right in front of Lord Russell's, too!"
+
+"No, he was merely offensive," replied Mortmain, recognizing the
+policeman as an old timer on the beat. "Thank you. Good night."
+
+The baronet turned away as the bobby started toward the station house,
+conducting his bewildered victim by the nape of the neck. Without
+heeding direction, Mortmain strode on, trying to forget the drunken
+Flaggs and the little bald head in the window. The clerk's words had
+created in him a feeling of actual nausea, so that a perspiration broke
+out all over his body and he walked uncertainly. After he had covered
+half a mile or so, the air revived him, and, having taken his bearings,
+he made a wide circle so as to avoid Farringham Square again, and at the
+same time to approach his own house from the direction opposite to that
+in which he had started. He still felt shocked and ill--the same
+sensation which he had once experienced on seeing two navvies fighting
+outside a music hall. He remembered afterwards that there seemed to be
+more people on the streets as he neared his home, and that a patrol
+wagon passed at a gallop in the same direction. A hundred yards farther
+on he saw a long envelope lying in the slush upon the sidewalk, and
+mechanically he picked it up and thrust it in the pocket of his coat.
+Joyce came to the door just as the hall clock boomed seven. Sir Richard
+had been gone exactly an hour.
+
+"Fetch me a brandy and soda," ordered the baronet huskily, and stepped
+into the study without removing his furs. The fire had been replenished
+and was cracking merrily, but it sent no answering glow through Sir
+Richard's frame. The shadow of the little bald head still rested like a
+weight upon his brain, and his hands were moist and clammy. He thrust
+them into his pockets and came into contact with the wet manila cover
+of the envelope, and he drew it forth and tossed it upon the table as
+Joyce entered with the brandy.
+
+The butler removed his master's coat and noiselessly left the room,
+while Mortmain drained the glass and then carelessly examined the
+envelope. The names of "Flynt, Steele & Burnham" printed in the upper
+left-hand corner caught his eye. The names of his own solicitors! That
+was a peculiar thing. Perhaps Flynt had dropped it--or Flaggs. He turned
+it over curiously. It was unsealed, as if it had formed one of a package
+of papers. The baronet lifted the envelope to the lamp and peeped within
+it. There were three thin sheets of paper covered with writing, and
+unconsciously he drew them forth and examined them. At the foot of each,
+in delicate, firm characters, appeared his own name staring him
+familiarly in the face. In the corners were the unmistakable figures
+£25,000. He rubbed his forehead and read all three carefully. There
+could be no doubt of it--they were his own three notes of hand to Lord
+Gordon Russell. Fate was playing tricks with him again.
+
+"A fire from heaven to consume the notes," Flynt had said. Here were the
+notes--there was the fire. Had Heaven perhaps really interposed to save
+him? Was this chance or Providence? With a short breath the baronet
+grasped the notes and took a step toward the hearth. As he did so the
+extension telephone by the mantel began to ring excitedly. His heart
+thumped loudly as, with a feeling of guilt, he relaid the notes upon the
+table and seized the telephone.
+
+"Yes--yes--this is Mortmain!"
+
+"Richard," came the voice of a friend at the club in anxious tones, "are
+you there? Are you at home?"
+
+"Yes--yes!" repeated the baronet breathlessly. "What is it?"
+
+"Have you heard the news--the news about Lord Russell?"
+
+Mortmain's head swam with a whirl of premonition.
+
+"No," he replied, trying to master himself, while the perspiration again
+broke out over his body. "What news? What has happened?"
+
+"Lord Russell was murdered in his library at half after six this
+evening. Some one gained access to the room and killed the old man at
+his study table."
+
+"Killed Lord Russell!" gasped Sir Richard. "Have they caught the
+murderer?"
+
+"No," continued his friend. "The assassin escaped by one of the windows
+into the street. The police have taken possession. There is nothing to
+indicate who did the deed. There was blood everywhere. His secretary, a
+man named Leach, was discharged two days ago and a general alarm has
+been sent out for him."
+
+"This is terrible," groaned Sir Richard in horror.
+
+"It is, indeed. I thought you ought to know. I may see you at the opera.
+If not--good night."
+
+The receiver fell from the baronet's fingers, and the room grew black as
+he clutched at the mantel with his other hand. He staggered slightly,
+tried to regain his equilibrium, and in so doing upset one of the bronze
+dragon vases which grinned down upon him.
+
+The vase fell, and the baronet clutched at it in its descent. It was too
+late. The heavy bronze crashed downward to the floor carrying Sir
+Richard with it, and one of the verdigris-covered dragon's fangs pierced
+his right hand.
+
+Mortmain uttered a moan and lay motionless on the floor. The little
+Sèvres clock ticked off forty seconds and then softly chimed the
+quarter, while the blood from the baronet's hand spurted in a tiny
+stream upon the rug.
+
+[Illustration: "Mortmain . . . lay motionless on the floor."]
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+When Sir Richard Mortmain next opened his eyes after his fall he found
+himself in his bedchamber. The curtains were tightly drawn, allowing
+only a shimmer of sunshine to creep in and play upon the ceiling; an
+unknown woman in a nurse's uniform was sitting motionless at the foot of
+his bed; the air was heavy with the pungent odor of iodoform, and his
+right arm, tightly bandaged and lying extended upon a wooden support
+before him, throbbed with burning pains. Too weak to move, unable to
+recall what had brought him to such a pass, he raised his eyebrows
+inquiringly, and in reply the nurse laid her finger upon her lips and
+reaching toward a stand beside the bed held a tumbler containing a glass
+tube to the baronet's lips. Mortmain sucked the contents from the
+tumbler and felt his pulse strengthen--then weakness manifested itself
+and he sank back, his lips framing the unspoken question, "What has
+happened?"
+
+The nurse smiled--she was a pretty, plump young person--not the kind Sir
+Richard favored (Burne-Jones was his type), and whispered:
+
+"You have been unconscious over twelve hours. You must lie still. You
+have had a bad fall and your hand is injured."
+
+In some strange and unaccountable way the statement called to Mortmain's
+fuddled senses a confused recollection of a scene in Hauptmann's "Die
+Versunkene Glöcke," and half unconsciously he repeated the words:
+
+"I _fell_. I--fe--l--l!"
+
+"Yes, you did, indeed!" retorted the pretty nurse. "But Sir Penniston
+will never forgive me if I let you talk. How is your arm?"
+
+"It burns--and burns!" answered the baronet.
+
+"That horrid vase crushed right through the palm. Rather a nasty wound.
+But you will be all right presently. Do you wish anything?"
+
+Suddenly complete mental capacity rushed back to him. The disagreeable
+scene with Flaggs, the finding of the notes, the news of Russell's
+murder, and his accident. The murder! He must learn the details. And the
+notes. What had he done with them? He could not recollect, try hard as
+he would. Were they on the table? His head whirled and he grew suddenly
+faint. The nurse poured out another tumbler from a bottle and again held
+the tube to his lips. How delicious and strengthening it was!
+
+"Please get me a newspaper!" said Sir Richard.
+
+"A newspaper!" cried the nurse. "Nonsense! I'll do no such thing!"
+
+"Then please see if there are some papers in an envelope lying on the
+writing table in my private study."
+
+The nurse seemed puzzled. Where aristocratic patients were concerned,
+particularly if they were in a weakened condition, she was accustomed to
+accommodate them. She hesitated.
+
+"At once!" added Sir Richard.
+
+The nurse tiptoed out of the room, and in the course of a few moments
+returned.
+
+"The butler says that Mr. Flynt's clerk, a man named Faggs, or Flaggs,
+or something of the sort, came back for them half an hour ago. He
+explained that he thought Mr. Flynt might have left some papers by
+mistake, and the butler supposed it was all right and let him have them.
+The name of your solicitors was upon the envelope."
+
+Sir Richard stared at her stupidly. A queer feeling of horror and
+distrust pervaded him, the very same feeling which his first sight of
+the clerk had inspired in him. What could Flaggs have known of the
+notes? The clerk himself could not have committed the ghastly deed,
+since he had been under arrest at the time--but might he not have been
+an accomplice? Were the notes part of some terrible plot to enmesh
+_him_, Sir Richard Mortmain, in the murder? Was it a scheme of
+blackmail? The blood surged to his head and dimmed his eyesight. But why
+had Flaggs taken them away? Had he left them on the street hoping that
+Sir Richard would find them and bring them into the house, so that he
+could testify to having found them in the study? But, if so, why had he
+risked the possibility of their having been destroyed before he could
+regain them? Such a supposition was most unlikely. It must have been
+merely chance. The fellow had probably sneaked in simply to see what he
+could find. And what had he found! A shiver of terror quenched for an
+instant the burning of Mortmain's body. A horrible vision of himself
+standing outside the window of Lord Gordon Russell took shape before
+him. What if people should say--! He had been heard by Joyce and the
+clerk to express his hatred of the old man and his willingness to kill
+him. In addition there were the notes, overdue and about to be
+protested, which Flaggs had found in his study within twelve hours of
+Lord Russell's murder. Motive enough for any crime. Moreover, the
+policeman had seen him loitering there at almost the exact moment of the
+homicide!
+
+These momentous facts came crashing down upon his brain with the weight
+of stones, numbing for an instant his exquisite torture--then reason
+reasserted herself. Lord Russell was dead. If circumstances seemed to
+point in his direction, he had only to deny that the notes had been in
+his possession, and certainly his word would be taken as against that of
+the drunken clerk of a solicitor. Moreover, the notes were obviously not
+in the possession of the executors. Should, by any chance, no memoranda
+of them remain he might never be called upon to honor them. At all
+events, his bankruptcy had, for the time at least, been averted. Even
+were their existence known, legal procedure would intervene to give him
+time to evolve some means of escape--perhaps, in default of aught else,
+a marriage of convenience. Sir Richard, in spite of the burning pain in
+his right arm, leaned back his head with a sensation of relief.
+
+A soft knock came at the door and he heard the nurse's voice murmuring
+in low tones; then the curtain was partially raised and he recognized
+the figures of Sir Penniston Crisp and his young assistant.
+
+"Ah, my dear Mortmain! When you left me yesterday morning I hardly
+expected to see you so soon again. And how do you find yourself?" was
+the baronet's cheery salutation.
+
+Sir Richard smiled faintly.
+
+"Rather a nasty wound," continued the surgeon. "Fickles, hand me those
+bandage scissors. Well, we must take a look at it." And he seated
+himself comfortably by the bedside.
+
+Miss Fickles, who had elevated Sir Richard to a sitting posture, now
+handed Sir Penniston the scissors, and the great physician leisurely cut
+the bandage from the arm. Mortmain winced with pain and closed his eyes.
+For an instant the outer air soothed the burning palm and forearm, then
+the blood crept into the veins and the pain became veritable agony.
+
+"Hm!" remarked Sir Penniston. "I must open this up. It needs attending
+to."
+
+He might well say so, for the edges of the wound showed tinges of
+yellow, and the hand itself was torn pitifully.
+
+"Scalscope, pass those instruments to Miss Fickles, and open that bottle
+of somni-chloride. I shall have to give you a whiff of anæsthetic,
+Mortmain. These little exploring expeditions are apt to be painful,
+however gentle we try to be. Just enough to make you a mere
+spectator--you will not lose consciousness. Wonderful, isn't it? I'm
+afraid I shall have to pick out some slivers of bone and trim off the
+edges a little. It will only take a moment or two. Then a nice bandage
+and you will be quite at ease."
+
+While Jermyn was emptying Sir Penniston's bag of its heterogeneous
+contents, Miss Fickles boiled the surgeon's implements in a tray of
+water over a tiny electric stove, and then arranged them in order upon a
+soft bed of padded cotton. Scalscope pulled a table to the bedside, and
+laid out with military precision rolls of linen, absorbents, antiseptic
+gauze, scissors, tape, thread, needles, and finally the little bottle of
+somni-chloride. The nurse lowered Sir Richard back upon the pillow and
+quickly twisted a fresh towel into a cone.
+
+"How science leaps onward," continued Sir Penniston, meditatively
+taking the cone in his left hand. "Anodyne, ether, chloroform, nitrous
+oxide, ethyl-chloride, and at last the greatest of all boons,
+somni-chloride! And all within my lifetime--that is really the most
+extraordinary part of it. Ah, what are the miracles of art to the
+miracles of science? Think of being able at last, as you heard me
+announce, to feel sure of never permanently losing a limb!"
+
+He allowed a single drop from the bottle to fall into the cone. Even as
+it descended it resolved itself into a lilac-colored volatile filling
+the cone like a horn of plenty. Sir Penniston held it with a smile just
+over Mortmain's head and suffered it to escape gently downward. At the
+first faint odor the baronet felt a perfect calm steal over his tired
+brain, at the second he seemed translated from his body and hovering
+above it, retaining the while an almost supernatural acuteness of eye
+and ear. Of bodily pain he felt nothing. Then Crisp inverted the cone
+and poured out the lilac smoke in a faint iridescent cloud, which eddied
+round the baronet's head and filled his nostrils with the sweet
+fragrance of an old-fashioned garden. Its perfume almost smothered him,
+and for a moment his eyes were blurred as if he had inhaled a breath of
+strong ammonia. Then his sight cleared and he no longer smelled the
+flowers. The surgeon laid down the cone and took up a small, thin knife.
+
+"Fickles, hold the wrist; you, Scalscope, the fingers. Thank you, that
+will do nicely."
+
+Mortmain watched with fascinated interest as Sir Penniston applied the
+point to his palm. Then the surgeon suddenly raised his head and looked
+pityingly at Sir Richard. At the same moment the effect of the
+somni-chloride began to wear off and the baronet felt a throbbing in
+his hand. Jermyn also cast a glance of compassion at the patient, while
+Miss Fickles turned away her head as if unable to bear the sight of his
+suffering.
+
+"My poor Mortmain," said the surgeon. "I fear you can never use this
+hand again."
+
+Mortmain caught his breath and choked.
+
+"What do you mean?" he gasped, and the effort sent a sharp pain through
+his lungs. "Not use my hand again?" His words sounded like the roar of a
+waterfall.
+
+"I fear you cannot. It is an ugly-looking wound. I am sorry to say you
+will have to lose your hand. We shall be lucky if we can save the arm."
+
+Mortmain felt an extraordinary pity for himself. He sobbed aloud. He had
+been vaguely aware that certain unfortunate persons in lowly
+circumstances occasionally lost their limbs. He was accustomed to
+contribute handsomely toward the homes for cripples and the blind, but
+he had never associated such an affliction with himself. He could not
+appreciate the proximity of it. There must be a mistake--or an
+alternative.
+
+"No, no, no!" he exclaimed heavily. "Surely, you can restore my hand by
+treatment. I do not care how painful or tedious it may be. Why, I _must_
+have my hand. I have it now. Leave it as it is. I shall recover in
+time."
+
+Sir Penniston smiled cheerfully.
+
+"I am sorry," he repeated, and Mortmain fancied that he detected a gleam
+of exultation in his eye. "Nothing can save it. Gangrene has already set
+in. The verdigris of the vase has poisoned the flesh. Do you think I
+would trifle with you? That is not my business. Be a man. It is hard;
+true enough. But it might be much worse."
+
+"But my music!" cried Mortmain in agony. "I shall be a miserable
+cripple! A fellow with an empty sleeve or a stuffed hand in a glove!
+Horrible!" He groaned.
+
+"You have still another," remarked the surgeon calmly. "Bind up this
+arm," he ordered, turning sharply to Jermyn. "Mortmain, I shall have to
+amputate your hand at the wrist within twelve hours. Do you desire a
+consultation? I assure you any physician would unhesitatingly give the
+same opinion. Still, if you desire----"
+
+The room swam about the baronet, and for an instant the two surgeons
+seemed like two ogres hovering aloft with bloodthirsty faces glowering
+down at his helpless body.
+
+Scalscope finished the bandage and tied the ends. Then he looked across
+at Crisp and remarked:
+
+"How fortunate, Sir Penniston, that your experiments have been concluded
+in time to save Sir Richard. He will be the very first to benefit by
+your great discovery!"
+
+Crisp smiled responsively.
+
+"What is that?" cried Mortmain. "Save me? What do you mean?"
+
+"Merely this, Mortmain. That if you are willing I may still give you a
+hand in place of this ruined one. It is possible, as I announced
+yesterday, to graft another in its place."
+
+Mortmain stared stupidly at Sir Penniston. A great weight seemed
+stifling him.
+
+"Did you really _mean_ it?" he gasped.
+
+"Precisely," returned the surgeon. "It will be difficult, but not
+particularly dangerous."
+
+"Another's hand!" groaned the baronet.
+
+"And why not?" eagerly continued the surgeon. "Surely some one will be
+found who can be induced for a proper consideration to assist in an
+operation that will restore to usefulness so distinguished a member of
+society."
+
+"But is it _right_?" gasped Mortmain. "Is it lawful to maim a
+fellow-creature merely to serve oneself?" The idea disgusted him.
+
+"As you please," remarked Crisp dryly. "If you are to avail yourself of
+this opportunity, which has never been offered to another, you must say
+so at once. If you are indifferent to the loss of your hand or distrust
+my skill, there is nothing left but to amputate and be done with it."
+
+"It cannot be right!" moaned Mortmain. "I know it is a wicked thing."
+
+"Right?" sneered Crisp. "Why, I almost believe that it would be a sin if
+I let this opportunity go by."
+
+"What is that?" cried Miss Fickles sharply.
+
+There was a sharp knock at the door and Ashley Flynt entered, with a
+strange look on his face. Like a flash it occurred to Mortmain that the
+solicitor had called to see him about the bankruptcy. He looked again,
+and a terrible thought possessed him that it was for something else that
+the lawyer had come. Was it about the murder? Was he already suspected?
+Apprehension dwarfed the horror of Sir Penniston's suggestion.
+
+"Ah, Flynt," said the surgeon, "I am glad you have come. You can advise
+our friend here. I have offered to give him a new hand in place of the
+one which he must lose. He's afraid that it is unlawful. Come, give us
+an opinion!"
+
+Flynt sank silently into an armchair and rested his finger tips lightly
+together.
+
+"Flynt," cried Mortmain, "what a terrible thing it is to deprive a
+fellow-creature of a limb. Is it legal? Is it not criminal?"
+
+Flynt gazed fixedly at Sir Richard for a moment without replying.
+
+"Situations sometimes arise," he remarked in a toneless voice, "where
+the results desired, even if they do not justify the means employed, at
+least render legal opinions superfluous."
+
+"I do not understand you," groaned Mortmain. "Do you mean that what Sir
+Penniston proposes is a crime?"
+
+"I mean that in a transaction of such moment the purely legal aspect of
+the case may be of slight importance."
+
+"Exactly!" exclaimed Sir Penniston, whose face had assumed an expression
+of uneasiness. "To be sure! How plain he puts things, Mortmain. The law
+does not concern us when the integrity of the human body is involved."
+
+"But if I require and insist upon your advice?" continued Mortmain. "You
+know that you are my solicitor."
+
+"In a matter of this kind I should refuse to give an opinion in a
+specific case touching the interest of a client," returned Flynt.
+
+"I must know the law!" cried the baronet.
+
+"Very well," replied Flynt. "I have examined the statutes and find that
+the maiming of another (save where such maiming is necessary to preserve
+his life or health), even with his consent, is a felony. That is the
+law, if you must have it."
+
+"Well, well!" exclaimed Crisp. "There are so many laws that one can't
+help violating some of them every day. What an absurd statute! It only
+shows how ignorant our legislators used to be! I am sure there were no
+scientific men in Parliament. It is nonsensical."
+
+Flynt gave a short laugh and arose.
+
+"My dear Sir Richard," he remarked dryly, "this is entirely a matter for
+your own conscience and that of your physician. I trust that you will
+soon recover. I have an important engagement. I must beg you to excuse
+me."
+
+"Gad, sir," cried Crisp, making a wry face toward the door as it closed
+behind the solicitor, "what a fellow that is! You might as well try to
+wring juice out of a paving stone. I feel quite irritated by him."
+
+"If I consent," said Mortmain, "do you think you can find a proper
+person to--to----"
+
+"My dear Mortmain," responded Sir Penniston eagerly, "leave that to us.
+You may be sure that we shall accept no hand that is not perfect in
+every way and adapted to your particular needs. You need give yourself
+not the slightest uneasiness upon that score, I assure you. Of course,
+you will have to pay for it, but I am convinced that in an affair of
+this kind a satisfactory adjustment can easily be made--say, two hundred
+pounds down and an annuity of fifty pounds. How does that strike you?
+Why, it would be a godsend to many a poor fellow--say a clerk. He earns
+a beggarly five pounds a month. You give him two hundred pounds and as
+much a year for doing nothing as he was earning working ten hours a
+day."
+
+The pains in Mortmain's hand had begun again with renewed intensity and
+his whole arm throbbed in response. He felt excited and feverish, and
+his thoughts no longer came with the same clearness and consecutiveness
+as before. It was evident to him that Crisp's diagnosis was correct. But
+shocking as was the realization that he, who had been in the prime of
+health but a few hours before, must now undergo a major operation, it
+was as nothing compared with the moral difficulty in which he found
+himself. All his inherited tendencies drew him back from a violation of
+the law, particularly a violation which included the maiming of a
+fellow-being; and so, for that matter, did all his acquired tastes and
+characteristics. On the other hand, his confidence in Crisp's skill and
+knowledge was such that he never for an instant doubted his ability
+successfully to achieve that which he had proposed.
+
+"But the law! The law!" cried Mortmain in a last and almost pathetic
+effort to oppose that which he now in reality desired. Crisp laughed
+almost sneeringly.
+
+"What is the law? The law is for the general good, not the individual.
+Are we to follow it blindly when to do so would be suicidal? Bah! The
+law never dares transgress the sacred circle of a physician's
+discretion."
+
+"I suppose that is quite true!" exclaimed Sir Richard faintly. "I leave
+it to you. Do as you think best. I will follow your instructions. But I
+am suffering. My hand tortures me horribly. Let us have it over with as
+soon as possible. How soon can you make your arrangements?"
+
+"By this afternoon, Sir Richard."
+
+Mortmain sank back. In his eagerness he had half raised himself from the
+pillow, and now a sensation of nausea accompanied by dizziness took
+possession of him. He saw things dimly and in distorted forms. There
+was a strange roaring in his head as of a multitude of waters and he
+perceived that Crisp and Jermyn were talking eagerly together. He caught
+disconnected words muttered hurriedly in low tones. They moved slowly
+toward the door and he distinctly heard Crisp say as they passed out:
+
+"Yes, Flaggs is the very man!"
+
+The words filled him with a nameless terror.
+
+"Stop!" he cried, "stop! I will have nothing to do with that man--do you
+hear? Stop! Comeback!" But the door closed, and Mortmain, helpless and
+trembling, again fell back and shut his eyes.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+It was cold in the train--icy cold, and in spite of his fur coat Sir
+Richard found himself shivering. Only his arm hanging in a splint burned
+with the fires of hell, as if imps with red-hot pincers were slowly
+tearing apart the nerves. Sir Penniston, sitting opposite, smiled
+encouragingly at him.
+
+There were several people in the carriage. The lamps had been lighted
+and in the corner, beside a large black case, sat Jermyn. Next to him
+came Joyce, looking exceedingly respectable and very solemn. But the
+other three he did not remember to have seen before--that tall,
+white-whiskered man in the otter collar: he probably had been presented
+and Sir Richard had forgotten. Then there was a big, broad-shouldered
+fellow in a soft cap, and next to him a slender, white-faced youth whose
+chin was buried in the depths of his coat collar, and whose hands were
+thrust deep into his pockets. The big man looked out the window
+occasionally and inquired the time, but the youth beside him kept his
+eyes fast shut and hardly moved. Had he not been sitting bolt upright
+Sir Richard fancied that the latter might have been taken for a corpse.
+
+"Woxton next stop, gentlemen!" announced the guard, opening the door for
+an instant as the train paused at a way station. A cold blast of air
+followed and Mortmain's teeth chattered. It was quite dark in the
+compartment and he felt very weak and miserable. He could not remember
+getting aboard the train, but the purport of it all was unmistakable.
+The agonies of the morning rushed back across his memory, and his hand
+throbbed and twisted within the splint. He felt sick and faint and the
+atmosphere of the carriage seemed suffocating.
+
+"How much farther is it?" inquired the man in the otter collar. "We've
+been traveling for hours!"
+
+"Only eight miles," answered Crisp cheerfully. "It certainly has seemed
+an unearthly distance."
+
+There was a long silence punctuated only by the puffing of the engine
+and the shriek of the whistle. Suddenly the pale young man whimpered.
+The sound sent a chill to the marrow of Sir Richard's spine.
+
+"If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee--"
+whispered the youth. Then he fell to sobbing in the depths of his
+collar, but without opening his eyes.
+
+"Come, come, my man! None of that!" cried Crisp angrily. "You're a lucky
+fellow! Why, your fortune is as good as made."
+
+Mortmain shuddered.
+
+"If thy hand offend thee--" he repeated to himself. "If thy hand
+offend----"
+
+Then he became conscious of still another presence somewhere--a presence
+that watched him furtively, but hungrily, with eager, greedy eyes. He
+stared along the seats and into the crannies. Could it have been a face
+at the window? No, the black night rushed by steadily and blankly. And
+yet he could not convince himself that another face had not been there a
+moment before.
+
+The train slowed up with a screeching of the brakes and came to a stop.
+The door was flung open; his companions hurriedly arose, and the
+broad-shouldered young man placed his arm protectingly about the baronet
+and assisted him to the platform. A fine snow was sifting down silently
+over the lamplit road and upon two large depot wagons standing beside
+the station. Again Mortmain was conscious of a presence. He glanced
+quickly across the platform and thought he saw a shadow spring from a
+rear carriage and leap into the darkness of the bushes.
+
+"What was that?" he gasped.
+
+But the others paid no attention, being busily engaged in deporting
+their cases and portmanteaus. The train started on again. Only the
+station agent was left, his lantern making an opaque circle in the
+intense darkness of the snow-filled night.
+
+The horses champed impatiently, and as quickly as was possible the party
+divided and climbed into the wagons, Crisp, the nurse, and Mortmain
+entering the last. The doors were slammed to and they started. Still
+Mortmain felt convinced that they were not alone. Looking back just as
+they were leaving the dim lights of the station, he could have sworn
+that he saw the figure of a man running steadily along behind, crouching
+low against the road. To the south a distant glow bespoke the presence
+of a village, but the wagons swung sharply to the north and plunged into
+a wood.
+
+A drowsiness had come over the baronet and he pressed close to the
+nurse, terrified and shaken by the dread of some approaching peril. This
+hired man seemed nearer to him than any other living soul. He cried
+softly, fearing to be observed, and the tears coursed down his hot
+cheeks and lost themselves in his furs. Now and then he would listen
+intently for the sound of some one running, but he could hear nothing
+save the crunch of the wheels and the jingle of the harness. Yet he knew
+that just behind them, clinging to their wheel, was pressing that
+mysterious figure that had leaped into the darkness beside the station.
+
+After what seemed an hour, a bend in the road disclosed a single light
+not far ahead and in a few moments the wagons stopped before a high
+wall. The party got out and Crisp opened the gate. Mortmain stared
+fixedly down the road, waiting for the unbidden guest to creep swiftly
+into view.
+
+"Here we are!" cried Sir Penniston. "Wait a moment until I notify the
+farmer."
+
+As the surgeon hastened up the paved walk to the cottage, the wagons
+turned and started back at a brisk trot, like a home-going funeral
+procession. All the windows were dark and Mortmain clung sobbing to the
+nurse's arm.
+
+"Hit's all right, sir," whispered the latter sympathetically. "Hit's all
+right!"
+
+Slowly the party made their way to the porch. A light appeared in the
+lower windows, then the door was opened. The nurse, half carrying the
+baronet, helped him into the hall and seated him upon a wooden chair. As
+the door closed Mortmain saw a shadow at the gate.
+
+"Look! Look!" he cried. The warm air swallowed him up; he felt a rush of
+blood to his neck and face; the figures about him swayed and swam in the
+dim light; there was a stabbing pain in his hand and he knew no more.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+When Mortmain was able to reappear in society he was astonished to find
+that the murder of Lord Russell was no longer a matter of interest or of
+discussion. The temporarily shocked and horrified community had
+apparently within a short time placidly accepted it, and apart from
+occasional references in the newspapers, it was rapidly becoming a mere
+matter of history, taking its proper chronological place in the long
+list of London's unsolved mysteries. It had been given out at the time
+that the horrible death of his old friend had so prostrated the baronet
+that he had been threatened with total collapse, and had only been
+restored to health by remaining in bed under the constant care of a
+certain distinguished physician. At times Mortmain was almost inclined
+to believe this himself, for the ghastly night at the lonely farmhouse,
+his ensuing illness and slow recovery, seemed, in the full swing of the
+London season and contrasted with the brilliant colors of its
+festivities, less actuality than a dreadful nightmare which continually
+obtruded itself upon his recollection. He had resumed his place in
+fashionable life with his old assurance, picking up his cards where he
+had left them lying face downward upon the table. Within a week he was
+again "among those present" at every gathering of note, and he had
+dropped hints of his intention to give a new and unique musical
+entertainment which was to surpass anything of the kind theretofore
+attempted. He had also resumed his attentions to Lady Bella Forsythe
+with a definite purpose--that of rendering himself financially
+impregnable.
+
+But Sir Richard was not the same. His glass showed him to be paler than
+of yore, his eyes more deeply sunken, his hair touched at the edges with
+a ghost of white, the lines of his mouth more firmly marked. His friends
+jokingly told him that he was growing old. He had paid a heavy price for
+what he had bought, yet it was not loss of vitality, not physical shock
+alone that had thus aged him, but a ghastly, damning fact that never
+left him for an instant, waking or sleeping: _the fact that the man had
+died_. They had not told him at first--it might have affected his cure.
+The result upon his spiritual being when he learned of it had been no
+less disastrous. _The man had died._ There was no longer any pensioner
+to claim his annuity; no creditor even to demand the price of his awful
+bargain; no witness to testify to its hideous terms--he had fled the
+jurisdiction of all earthly courts. Sir Richard was free. But the
+thought of that life forfeited to his own egotism was a millstone about
+his neck, bowing him forever to the ground.
+
+He intentionally talked frankly of Lord Russell. The old man had been
+highly respected and, indeed, moderately prominent in philanthropic
+circles. Mortmain had made a point of going personally to see the
+bas-relief erected to his memory. He learned that the next of kin was a
+Devon man who never came up to town, and that the executors had taken
+possession almost immediately and disposed of the house to an American
+millionaire, who was even now remodeling the historic mansion, inserting
+Grecian columns and putting on a Château de Nevers roof. Of course he
+inspected this with friends, was properly disgusted, and seized the
+opportunity to gratify his curiously morbid hunger for the details of
+the murder. He learned that, though few of the facts were known to the
+public, opinion had crystallized into a settled acceptance that the
+murderer had made good his escape and that the identity of the murderer
+was known. In fact, the silence of Scotland Yard was rendered nugatory
+by the reward of £1,000 offered by the County Council for the
+apprehension of Saunders Leach, the recently discharged secretary of the
+philanthropist. Nothing had been heard of him since Lord Russell's
+butler had admitted him to the house, an hour or two before the murder,
+upon his representation that he had come to look over some papers at the
+request of his erstwhile master. The butler, a most respectable person,
+had introduced him into the library, where Lord Russell was, and
+departed. He had recalled afterwards--it had come out at the hearing at
+the Central Criminal Court--that he had heard the sound of voices raised
+at a high pitch, but, as his master was at times somewhat querulous,
+this had not particularly attracted his attention. An hour later, when
+he had brought the evening papers, he had discovered the aged man lying
+face downward upon his desk, and a window, bearing the bloody traces of
+the assassin, open to the night. And Leach had vanished--as if he had
+never lived.
+
+The thing most puzzling to Sir Richard, as to everybody else, was the
+failure of any apparent motive for so ghastly a deed. Leach, according
+to old Floyd the butler, had been a very decent sort of fellow, rather
+sickly Floyd took him to be, without any particular faults or virtues.
+It seemed to outrage reason to suppose that an anæmic little clerk
+could have murdered a helpless old man simply out of revenge for having
+lost his place. And then nothing had been stolen--that is, nobody but
+Sir Richard knew that anything had been stolen. Yet the public and the
+London County Council pronounced unhesitatingly as established fact that
+Saunders Leach was the assassin, and that he should be hunted down to
+the very ends of the world and, if need be, followed into the next. Only
+Scotland Yard remained silent after annexing the contents of the room,
+the windows, the carpet, and even portions of the faded paper from the
+very walls themselves. Then Parliament went into a convulsion over a
+proposed excise alteration and London forgot the murder of Lord Russell
+in its feverish interest in the expected legislative abortion. There was
+an appeal to the country; a premier retired to Italy; some few thousands
+were added to the credit column of the national ledger at the expense of
+a ministry, and once more the advent of royalty at St. James's dazzled
+the cockney eye and filled the cockney mouth to the stultification of
+the cockney brain. Lord Russell was forgotten--as completely as Saunders
+Leach--as totally as an isle sunk beneath the waters of oblivion.
+
+The first time Sir Richard had essayed to write he had been deliciously
+horrified at the ease with which his pencil had followed the pressure of
+his new fingers. His recent clothes added an extra inch to his sleeves,
+and his broad cuffs fully concealed the white seam that ran around his
+wrist. The hand itself served his purposes well enough, but unmistakably
+it was not his own. He never laid the two together--never let his eyes
+fall upon the vicarious fingers if he could avoid it, for inevitably a
+sickening sensation of repulsion followed. His own fingers were long
+and tapering, the nails fine with pronounced "crowns," the back of the
+hand slender and smooth; the new one was broader and hairy, the fingers
+shorter and square at the ends, the nails thick and dull with no
+"crowns," and the veins blue and prominent. There were too many pores!
+
+He loathed the thing, tell himself as often as he would that it was
+nothing but a mechanical device to supplement Nature. Physically he felt
+as if he were wearing a glove that was too small for him, into which he
+had been forced to stuff his hand. This seemed to produce a tight,
+swollen sensation which was the only indication of his abnormal
+condition. He ate, drove, used his keys, articulated his fingers, and
+even wrote with the same muscular freedom as before. His chirography
+actually and undeniably exhibited the same general characteristics, only
+intensified and with less certainty of stroke and pen-pressure. The
+letters which had previously been merely somewhat original in structure
+as suited a man of fashion, now became humpbacked and deformed. It was
+as though the spiritual qualities of Sir Richard's penmanship had shrunk
+away, leaving only the grotesque residue of a dwarfed and evil nature.
+
+But apart from the question of chirography one other manifestation
+constantly reminded Mortmain of his crime. This was an itching in the
+grafted hand whenever its possessor became angry or excited. Even hard
+physical exercise produced the same phenomenon. It seemed as if Nature,
+having provided for the circulation of a certain amount of blood, found
+on reaching this particular extremity that the supply exceeded the power
+of reception. If angered, he found himself indulging in ungovernable
+fits of passion, with his eyes suffused and his head buzzing. At times
+he experienced an almost irresistible impulse to throttle somebody. On
+the slightest provocation the fingers of his right hand would curve and
+clutch, and a fierce longing seize him to compass the extinction of life
+in some animate being--to feel the slackening of the muscles in some
+victim--an emotion elemental, barbarous, cruel, but keen, masterful and
+pervading. He had an exhilarating sensation of strength and vitality new
+to him. Moreover, his attitude toward his fellow-men had imperceptibly
+altered. Before his operation he had hated all evil doers and been
+strongly loyal to government and law; now he sympathized with the
+lawbreakers. In defying society and deliberately violating its statutes,
+he had allied himself with its enemies.
+
+This he realized and accepted. At any moment he might be called upon to
+face a criminal prosecution for the felony of mutilation; and there was
+still the peculiar and inexplicable silence of Flaggs in regard to the
+papers which he had taken away with him on the morning after the murder.
+No word had ever passed between them on the subject, and yet the notes
+were outstanding and in the hands of a more dangerous holder than even
+Lord Russell himself. By merely handing them to the executors, Flaggs
+could not only throw Sir Richard into bankruptcy, but could place him in
+the awkward position of having suppressed the notes at the time of Lord
+Russell's death. That, too, would lead to a still further and more
+delicate complication. He would naturally be asked how he had secured
+possession of the notes. It would be clear that they were in Lord
+Russell's hands at the time of the murder. Flaggs would explain that
+_he_ had procured them from Sir Richard. So far as _he_ was concerned,
+he had been safely "jugged" at the time of the murder. He could call a
+score of sergeants, matrons, and bobbies to prove that, and establish it
+by the police records themselves. Where, then, people would want to
+know, had Sir Richard obtained them? It would be a hard question to
+answer in such a way that the answer would carry any sort of conviction
+with it.
+
+No one, of course, would believe that he had found them, as in fact was
+the case. Any such explanation would excite instant suspicion. If he
+should say that he had paid them and had received the notes from Lord
+Russell's lawyers, inquiry would at once demonstrate that the lawyers
+had never had possession of the notes, or received any money from Sir
+Richard. If he said that he had taken the money to Lord Russell and
+received the notes _from him_, his own evidence would place him upon the
+scene of the murder at approximately the moment of it. Further, no draft
+in payment of the notes would be found among Lord Russell's papers, and
+the suspicion would immediately arise that he had proffered a forged
+draft to secure possession of the notes, and then murdered the old man
+to get it back.
+
+It was indeed a predicament of the worst sort. In Sir Richard the
+horrible unfairness of it bred a hatred for a society in which such
+things were possible. He looked at any moment to find himself made the
+defendant in a criminal prosecution, just or unjust--the unjust the more
+difficult of the two to escape. He needed money--money to fight with,
+money to live on, money to keep up his hollow pretense of
+respectability. And as his attitude toward society gradually changed,
+the dead-alive thing at his wrist with the white seam throbbed and
+itched until Mortmain longed fiercely to tear it off. At night he would
+dream--and this dream repeated itself over and over again--that he was
+fastened to some miserable convict, shackled by the wrist in such a way
+that somehow they two had grown together, and as he struggled in his
+sleep his fellow would turn into the grinning, jeering image of
+Flaggs--Flaggs fastened to him by a bond of burning, itching
+flesh--Flaggs joined to him like a Siamese twin, flesh of his flesh,
+blood of his blood--until by some unnatural evolution _he_ became Flaggs
+and could see his own wretched shape writhing at the other end of their
+mutual arm. Then shaking, chilled, and covered with perspiration he
+would awake and look for Flaggs beside him, and hold his hand to the
+blue night-light only to find the seam about his wrist and the
+dead-white hand throbbing until he thought he should go mad.
+
+By day he was haunted by the vision of Flaggs watching his house and
+following him along the streets. He could not get the fellow out of his
+mind. This terror of the drunken clerk became a positive obsession. As
+he walked the streets or drove in his brougham through the park he was
+constantly planning out what he should say when they should finally come
+together--when Flaggs should call for him, summon him as his own. Could
+he defy him? Could he palliate him? The hand twitched at the thought of
+it. He fancied that Flaggs followed him everywhere in various disguises,
+running swiftly behind, dodging into doorways and up side streets when
+he turned around. And this habit of turning around and glancing
+furtively up and down grew on Sir Richard, and with it grew the itching
+in his hand, until he suspected that people shook their heads and said
+that his illness had undermined his health more than they had supposed.
+
+It was no bodily illness that thus affected Sir Richard, but spiritual
+degeneration. He went from dinner party to dinner party and from
+musicale to musicale, paying court to Lady Bella Forsythe as if no
+grotesque face were peering from behind the arras of his brain. Yet in
+reality he was preparing to meet Flaggs in the final struggle for
+supremacy. Flaggs, like death and the tax man, was coming--_when_? He
+could not tell, but inevitably. And he must be ready, armed _cap-a-pie_
+to meet him on every ground. He had at last resolved to marry Lady
+Bella. It was an essential in his campaign to defeat Flaggs. There must
+be plenty of money--money, that was what he needed, what he wanted. It
+was partly for Lady Bella that he had planned his musical entertainment,
+for, in addition to its practical desirability, if he purposed to retain
+his position in the social world, it would afford an excellent
+opportunity for presenting himself to her as a person worthy of her own
+high station and acquaintance. His own music--! Alas! the brain was
+willing, but the fingers were powerless. Where before he had produced
+the most delicate of harmonies there now resulted nothing but harsh
+discords. The hand would not stretch an octave!
+
+The Milbank Street house blazed into the early evening with a thousand
+lights. All day long wagons of roses and asters had stood before the
+doors, and aproned men had staggered into the hall with pots of flowers
+and stands of palms. Confectioners' wagons, loads of camp chairs, and
+now a large awning were the indubitable evidences of what was afoot.
+Night came on. The white cloth on the carpet across the sidewalk was
+trampled to a dirty gray. The orchestra began to arrive, and, shedding
+their coats in the servants' entrance, toiled up the back stairs and
+tentatively made their way through the flower-banked halls to the
+conservatory. Sir Richard sitting in his den and awaiting the arrival of
+his first guests could hear the musicians tuning their basses and
+testing the wood winds. But there was no music in Sir Richard's soul.
+All day long he had been haunted by the ghost of Flaggs scuttling behind
+him, and his hand had seemed swollen and discolored. Well, if he could
+but get through the night, could succeed in his suit with Lady Bella, he
+would go away and rest. Perhaps he would leave London forever--Lady
+Bella was very fond of Rome. The sounds of the instruments grew more
+confused and louder, the violins mingling with the others. Occasionally
+the trombones would boom out and the kettles rumble ominously. Outside
+splashes of rain began to fall against the windows, and the wind,
+catching in the hollow column of the awning, swept into the halls and
+through the open door into the den. Mortmain looked at his watch and
+found it was ten o'clock. People would be arriving soon. His hand
+twitched and he lighted a cigarette. There was a great deal of traffic
+in the front hall--too much. He closed the door and poured out a
+thimbleful of brandy. Well, a day or two and he would be rid of Flaggs
+forever! Then he heard a low knock. He tried to cheat himself into the
+belief that it was Joyce.
+
+"Come in," he cried, but his voice was husky.
+
+Flaggs stood before him.
+
+"I have been expecting you," said Mortmain. It did not seem strange that
+he should make this declaration.
+
+"Yes?" queried Flaggs.
+
+"What do you want?" demanded the baronet.
+
+"Ten thousand pounds," answered the clerk. "To-morrow."
+
+Mortmain broke into a harsh laugh.
+
+"Ha! my good fellow! What do you think I am--a Croesus? Come, come, I'll
+give you fifty--and I get the notes, eh?"
+
+"Ten thousand pounds," repeated Flaggs stubbornly, "by to-morrow noon,
+or I hand you over to the police."
+
+The blood jumped into Sir Richard's face and his dexter hand throbbed
+and tingled.
+
+"You miserable rascal!" he cried. "You wretched blackmailer! How dare
+you come into my house? Do you know that I could _kill_ you? And no one
+would ever be the wiser! Take a few pounds and be off with you or I'll
+summon the police myself."
+
+"Not so fast, not so fast, Sir Richard," muttered Flaggs. "I don't think
+you'll call the police."
+
+The look on the white scowling face before him told Sir Richard that the
+fellow meant to do his business. A haunting fear seized hold upon him
+like that which he had experienced in the depot wagon--a feeling that
+behind this grotesque, dwarfed figure of a man lurked the hand of Fate.
+
+"That's right. Be reasonable," said Flaggs soothingly. "Some folks would
+think ten thousand pounds was cheap to escape the gallows," he added in
+lower tones.
+
+"Gallows!" cried Sir Richard, his anger rising. He knew the fellow's
+game now. He was being lied to. Flaggs was trying to frighten, to bully
+him. "The gallows, my friend, ceased to be the punishment for felony in
+1826--even for blackmail!"
+
+"But not for murder," retorted Flaggs with a ghastly smile. "Not for
+murder!"
+
+"Enough of this!" exclaimed Sir Richard, but his knees were trembling.
+"Here are a hundred pounds. Go!" He put his hand to his breast pocket.
+
+Flaggs laughed.
+
+"Look!" he cried, pulling from the lining of his hat a printed slip
+which he unfolded and handed to the baronet.
+
+Mortmain took it in dread and held it to the light.
+
+      "_Murder in the first degree defined._
+
+      "_The taking of the life of a human being by another
+      with malice prepense or in the commission of a
+      felony._"
+
+The last six words were underlined in red ink.
+
+"Well?" he asked, but the word stuck in his throat.
+
+"Well?" returned the other. "It's plain enough, isn't it? What more do
+you want?"
+
+"It is not plain, you blackguard."
+
+"Maiming is a felony. You know that. Amputation is maiming. Flynt told
+you so. The fellow that sold you that hand of yours died of it, didn't
+he?"
+
+Mortmain uttered an exclamation of horror. He looked down at the fearful
+thing and it seemed to him to be the color of death. "They can never
+prove it!" he cried faintly. "They can't prove it! They cannot!"
+
+"Yes, they can! I saw it done," remarked Flaggs. "I saw him buried in
+the garden. He is there yet--minus his hand."
+
+"You villain!" gasped Mortmain. The room reeled, and Flaggs danced
+before him, gibbering with glee. The light darkened and brightened again
+and seemed to swing in circles.
+
+"Pull yourself together, Sir Richard!" remarked Flaggs mockingly. "Pull
+yourself together! Isn't it worth ten thousand pounds or one hundred
+thousand pounds? But I'm reasonable. Only ten thousand pounds! Come,
+come! Let me have it!"
+
+"_No!_" shouted Mortmain. "Not if I die for it."
+
+"Then you _will_ die for it," said Flaggs.
+
+The sound of the fiddles came through the closed door of the study. The
+cries of the lackeys and the roll of carriages arriving and departing
+could be heard in the front.
+
+"You will die for it, as there is a God in heaven, if I choose!"
+
+Mortmain stood silent. He had a presentiment of what Flaggs was going to
+say.
+
+"A word from me," continued the clerk, "and you hang for the _murder of
+Lord Russell_. Everyone knows you hated him. Flynt, Joyce, and I heard
+you say you would kill him. You owed him seventy-five thousand pounds
+and it was two days overdue. He would have ruined you next day. The
+officer saw you outside his window within five minutes of the murder,
+and so did I. There was nothing taken but the notes--nothing. They were
+found in your possession the next morning. How did they get there? The
+case is complete. The notes convict you. I've got them. They are yours
+for ten thousand pounds--only ten thousand pounds."
+
+"You villain," shouted Mortmain, springing toward him.
+
+The door from the hall opened and Joyce entered letting in the warm
+breath of roses and the loud strains of a waltz.
+
+"Lady Bella has arrived, Sir Richard," he announced.
+
+"Tell her I am coming," said Mortmain, starting for the door.
+
+"Wait!" shrieked Flaggs, his face horribly distorted. "Wait!" Joyce had
+retired.
+
+Mortmain paused with clinched fists.
+
+"Isn't it worth ten thousand pounds to save a guilty man--a man who
+can't escape?"
+
+"Why, you fool!" cried Mortmain, suddenly regaining his self-control.
+"Such evidence is valueless. My word is worth _yours_ ten times over,
+and I deny that you found the notes in my house. I say that _you_ are
+the murderer. And I believe you are!"
+
+"Not so fast! Not so fast!" leered Flaggs. "You know I was 'in quod' at
+the time. Don't forget that! And there's one more bit of evidence that
+nails you. You can't escape. You're done. I've got you--_the murderer's
+thumb marks on the glass_!"
+
+"The devil take you!" yelled Mortmain, the blood suffusing his eyes.
+
+"The devil has _you_ already!" retorted Flaggs. "He's part of you. You
+_are_ the devil. Whose hand is that? Tell me that! _Whose hand is
+that?_"
+
+Mortmain turned an agonized face toward his tormentor. His spirit was
+gone. He was ready to fall upon his knees, but he could not move. He
+raised his left hand pitifully as if to shield himself from the coming
+blow, and yet his parched lips uttered the soundless word:
+
+"Whose?"
+
+Flaggs gave a dry laugh.
+
+"_It belonged to Saunders Leach!_"
+
+With a sickening of the heart the baronet realized for the first time
+the terrible alternative which confronted him.
+
+His selfish willingness to violate the law and mutilate a fellow human
+being merely to gratify his own vanity had plunged him into an abyss
+from which there seemed no escape. "Murder in the first degree defined:
+the taking of the life of a human being by another with malice prepense
+_or in the commission of a felony_." By a cruel yet extraordinary chance
+he, the needless yet deliberate lawbreaker, had purchased the very hand
+which had slain his enemy--from the murderer himself, who was only too
+anxious to get rid of it. By an equally hideous but astonishing
+coincidence this devil's contract had proved in fact the death warrant
+of the murderer, and Mortmain had been his involuntary executioner.
+Saunders Leach had paid the penalty of his crime, but Mortmain carried
+dangling at the end of his dexter forearm the living evidence that he,
+and not Leach, was the assassin. The coil of the rope of fate, at one
+end of which hung the limp body of the common criminal, had fallen upon
+the neck of his aristocrat brother, and it needed but a word from Flaggs
+to send him spinning from the gallows. Should he seek to show that the
+finger prints upon the window of Lord Russell's library were not his
+own, and by this means to creep from beneath the meshes of the net of
+circumstantial evidence in which he was entangled, he would, in the same
+breath, be forced to confess that he was guilty of the murder of
+Saunders Leach--murder, as the result of the latter's mutilation--murder
+under the literal interpretation of the statute. Was ever rat so nicely
+trapped? The horror of the thing turned Mortmain into a madman. He
+sprang at the clerk in a delirium of rage, his right hand clutched
+Flaggs tightly by the throat, and its blunt fingers twisted into the
+flesh deeper and deeper. It was done so quickly that the clerk was
+unable to escape. His eyes started forward, his tongue protruded, and
+his mouth frothed as he made ineffectual attempts to break the baronet's
+hold.
+
+"You've got me, eh?" muttered Mortmain, gritting his teeth. "I think
+not, Mr. Flaggs!"
+
+The door opened and Joyce entered in much agitation. The orchestra had
+burst into a triumphant march and the sounds of many footsteps echoed in
+the hall outside.
+
+"Everybody is arrivin', Sir Richard!" exclaimed the butler, "an' Lady
+Bella has gone into the music room. His Grace of Belvoir was just askin'
+for you. Here are two gentlemen who wish to see you important, sir." He
+held the door open and two men in Inverness coats entered and stood
+irresolutely near the door.
+
+Mortmain released his grasp upon the neck of Flaggs, who lurched toward
+the corner and fell motionless behind a table.
+
+"Sir Richard Mortmain?" inquired the taller of the two, a man of massive
+build and with iron-gray mustache and hair.
+
+"The same," replied Mortmain, his fingers still twitching from the
+ferocity of his clutch upon the clerk.
+
+The two strangers bowed.
+
+"We have a card to you from Lieutenant Foraker--a friend of yours, I
+believe. Permit me," and the tall man stepped forward and extended a
+card to the baronet.
+
+Mortmain mechanically took it between the thumb and forefinger of his
+right hand. It felt like celluloid and a trifle slippery. But the
+stranger did not release his own hold upon it.
+
+"Pardon me, I have given you the wrong card," he exclaimed
+apologetically, and withdrawing the bit of board from Mortmain's fingers
+he opened a wallet and fumbled with the contents. As he did so he handed
+the first card to his companion, who stepped into the light of the lamp,
+and examined it carefully through a small microscope which he drew from
+his pocket.
+
+[Illustration: "His blunt fingers twisted into the flesh deeper and
+deeper."]
+
+"They are _the same_," remarked the stranger of the microscope to the
+iron-gray man.
+
+"What is all this?" cried Mortmain in an unnatural voice. His head swam.
+On the mantel the verdigris-covered dragon's face grinned mockingly at
+him--it was the face of Flaggs.
+
+"Sir Richard," replied the iron-gray man gravely, "I am Inspector
+Murtha, of Scotland Yard."
+
+Mortmain started back and his right hand twitched again. Through the
+silence came the measures of "The Flower Song."
+
+"I regret to say," continued the other, "that it is my most unpleasant
+duty to arrest you for the murder of Lord Gordon Russell."
+
+At the same instant the veil of Sir Richard's mental temple was rent in
+twain; out of a blackness so intense that it seemed substantive he saw
+the two inspectors from Scotland Yard fleeing away and diminishing in
+size until they seemed but puppets gesturing at the edge of an infinity
+of white desert; then with equal velocity they were carried forward
+again, growing bigger and bigger until they loomed like giants in his
+immediate foreground swinging huge scimitars and waving their arms
+frantically; the strains of the violins changed to voices shouting so
+sharply that they pained his ears, and waves of light and cosmic
+darkness over which scintillated a dazzling aurora followed one another
+in startling succession, until suddenly his soul, shot out of a tunnel,
+as it were, landed abruptly in a warm meadow covered with daisies, which
+dissolved before his eyes into the familiar chamber on Milbank Street. A
+gray mist floated hissing up through the ceiling, the chairs rocked with
+a strange rotary swing, and the two inspectors smiled cheerfully at him
+through a broad and painful band of London sunshine. He swallowed
+rapidly, and a horrible faintness seized him which gave place to a queer
+sort of anger.
+
+"There's--some--mistake!" he stuttered. The chairs anchored themselves
+and the ceiling assumed its normal tint.
+
+"No mistake at all," replied Sir Penniston Crisp.
+
+The problem was too much for the baronet and he gave it up. The
+murderer's hand no longer twitched, but it loomed white and loathsome
+from the bed before him, as if dead already, somehow--part of
+a--yes--what were those things? Bandages?
+
+Crisp and Jermyn saw a look of agonized bewilderment pass over the
+baronet's face.
+
+"Did they bring me here from the Old Bailey?" he asked. "Am I out on
+bail?"
+
+Crisp laughed.
+
+"That's one way of putting it," he remarked. "Yes, you're out on bail,
+and in another second or two you will be entirely free."
+
+"I'm glad you're going to take that thing off again," said Mortmain.
+"How could you have done it?"
+
+"It's all right," returned Crisp soothingly.
+
+Then Mortmain suddenly understood. But he waited shrewdly.
+
+"What day is this?" he asked in an innocent manner.
+
+"December 5th," replied Jermyn.
+
+"When did I have that fall; you know--the one that made it necessary for
+you to amputate?"
+
+"Your accident happened yesterday evening, but there is no necessity for
+amputation," returned Crisp. "Now, my dear fellow, just lie back, will
+you?--and don't ask questions. That somni-chloride is still lingering
+in your head. I shall have to be going in a minute."
+
+Mortmain obeyed the surgeon's instructions, but he was hard at work
+thinking the thing out logically. It was clear that there had been no
+amputation, no arrest, no inspectors from Scotland Yard. That scene with
+Flaggs, horribly distinct as it still was, had had no actuality. But
+where did fact end and illusion begin? Had the notes been taken? Had
+there been a murder? Was he a bankrupt? The different propositions
+entangled themselves helplessly with one another. At the end of a minute
+he asked deliberately:
+
+"Miss Fickles, did a man take some papers from my table this morning?"
+
+"Yes, Sir Richard," replied the nurse.
+
+Mortmain's heart sank.
+
+"Er--was--did anything happen to Lord Russell?" he asked the surgeon
+faintly.
+
+"Yes. But don't talk or think of it, Mortmain. I order you! Do you
+understand?"
+
+A ripple of perspiration broke out on his forehead and it seemed as if a
+film had rolled off his vision. Of course, he had taken the chloride
+just after Miss Fickles had gone downstairs for him, and then Crisp and
+Jermyn had come. He had felt so miserable! And now he felt so much
+better! He opened his eyes, the same Sir Richard that had inhaled the
+anæsthetic so obediently.
+
+"I am quite myself now, Sir Penniston," he asserted quietly. "I want to
+ask one more question. Flynt was not here, was he?"
+
+"No, of course not."
+
+"And we have not left the room? No railroad trip, eh?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Thank you," said the baronet. "May I have a cup of coffee?"
+
+What reply this preposterous demand would have invited will never be
+known, for at that moment a knock came upon the door and Joyce asked if
+Sir Richard could see Mr. Flynt.
+
+"I _must_ see him!" said Mortmain.
+
+"Oh, very well!" laughed Crisp. "You're getting better rapidly."
+
+Flynt entered with a breezy manner which he allowed himself to assume
+only when something really desirable had definitely occurred.
+
+"Good morning, Sir Penniston! Good morning, Sir Richard!" he remarked
+without sitting down. "I really had to come in and tell you the good
+news. The executors have just read Lord Russell's will----"
+
+"Mr. Flynt! Mr. Flynt!" interrupted Sir Penniston.
+
+"Oh, it's all right!" continued Flynt with a laugh. "Better than a
+tonic. You see, Fowler, the only next of kin, was just sailing for New
+Guinea, and it had to be done at once. I really did Lord Russell an
+injustice. May I speak before these gentlemen?"
+
+"Certainly," whispered Mortmain, his eyes fastened feverishly upon the
+lawyer.
+
+"Well, to put it briefly, he has made you a great gift! Here, read it!"
+and he handed the baronet a typewritten sheet. Mortmain read it eagerly,
+although his eyes pained him somewhat:
+
+      "To my friend, Sir Richard Mortmain, I devise and
+      bequeath the sum of five thousand pounds, and take it
+      upon myself to express the earnest hope that he will
+      before long publish his views upon art in such a form
+      that the public at large may have the opportunity to
+      profit by that which hitherto has been the privilege
+      only of the few. I desire, moreover, to express my
+      high personal regard for him and my admiration for his
+      whole-souled devotion to the arts, and I hereby
+      instruct my executors to cancel and destroy all
+      evidences of indebtedness owing to me by said Mortmain
+      and to treat said indebtedness as null, void and of no
+      effect, provided, nevertheless, that within six months
+      of my demise said Mortmain shall assign to the
+      directors of the Corporation of the British Museum all
+      his collections of ceramics, bronzes, china,
+      chronometers, scarabs, including the Howard
+      Collection, his cabinets of gems and cameos, including
+      the famous head of Alexander on an onyx of two strata
+      and the _altissimo relievo_ on cornelian--Jupiter
+      Ægiochus--the four paintings by Watteau in his music
+      room, and the paintings by Corot and Whistler from his
+      library. As the said moneys borrowed from me from time
+      to time by said Mortmain were, to my knowledge,
+      principally made use of by him for the purpose of
+      purchasing and enlarging said collections, which have
+      increased in value to no inconsiderable extent by
+      virtue of his care and discrimination since he
+      acquired them, I am prepared to regard said loans to
+      him in effect as gifts impressed with a trust in favor
+      of our National Museum, provided, however, that said
+      Mortmain is willing to accept the same and execute the
+      terms thereof as heretofore set forth within six
+      months; but nothing herein shall be taken to affect
+      the right of said Mortmain to take up and pay off said
+      indebtedness within said time, if he shall see fit to
+      do so, in which case the provisions of this codicil
+      shall be without any force or effect whatsoever, save
+      that I instruct my executors to receive said moneys
+      and hold the same in trust, however, for such
+      scientific and artistic uses as said Mortmain shall
+      direct, preference being given to the needs of the
+      British Museum along the lines of antique works of art
+      and Egyptology."
+
+As Sir Richard laid down the paper his eyes filled and he turned away
+his head.
+
+"A good old man!" said Flynt reverently.
+
+"Indeed he was!" assented Crisp.
+
+"I must know one thing," whispered Mortmain after a few moments. "Did
+you send your clerk here this morning to get some papers?"
+
+"Yes, to be sure. I had almost forgotten--I sent Flaggs after an
+envelope which I fancied I dropped last evening," answered the lawyer.
+
+"Which _you_ had dropped?" asked Mortmain stupidly.
+
+"Why, certainly. I had the papers connected with Lord Russell's loans
+sent here. Flaggs brought 'em--and I dropped an envelope. I _did_ drop
+it, because Flaggs found it here this morning."
+
+"What was in it?" asked Sir Richard eagerly.
+
+Flynt elevated his brows.
+
+"Why, if you don't mind my speaking of it, there were some old notes of
+yours which had been renewed at various times. I make a practice of
+keeping the originals as a matter of precaution."
+
+"Oh!" sighed Mortmain. "_Old_ notes?"
+
+"_Old_ notes," answered Flynt. "Notes taken up and renewed by others."
+
+"Ah!" sighed Mortmain again. "You _did_ drop them, but not in the
+study. I found them on the street. They gave me quite a turn."
+
+"Well, we will tear them up now," laughed Flynt.
+
+"Pardon me, sir," said Joyce, opening the door and handing a long box to
+Miss Fickles; "some roses with Lady Bella Forsythe's compliments, and
+'opin' as 'ow you'll soon be all right again, sir."
+
+
+
+
+THE RESCUE OF THEOPHILUS NEWBEGIN
+
+
+I
+
+
+The _Dirigo_ was a one-hundred-and-twenty-two foot gunboat, spick and
+span from the Cavite yard--lithe as a panther, swift as a petrel, gray
+as the mists off Hi-tai-sha--and she was his very own. The biggest,
+reddest day in all his twenty-three years of life was when the Admiral's
+order had come to leave the _Ohio_, where he had acted as a sort of
+apotheosized messenger boy and general escort to civilians' fat wives,
+and to proceed at once to Shanghai to assume command of her, provision
+and await further orders. It had cost him nine dollars and seventy-five
+cents to cable the joyful news adequately to his mother in Baltimore,
+and although the family resources were small--his father had died a
+lieutenant commander the year before--she had cabled back a "good luck
+and God bless you" to him. He only got as an ensign a paltry one hundred
+and twenty-eight dollars per month, and out of it came his mess bills
+and other expenses, but for all that he had enough to go down Nanking
+road and buy his mother a handsome mandarin cloak--Harry Dupont was
+going back on leave--and then to invite all the fellows he knew in
+Shanghai harbor to a jamboree at the club. It was going on at the time
+this story opens, boisterously and uproariously as befits the blow-out
+of a twenty-three-year old ensign who has just received his first
+command. The older civilians, who were drinking their comfortable
+"B & S" on the veranda, merely shrugged their shoulders as an impromptu
+refrain rose louder and louder to the pounding of bottles and the jingle
+of silverware.
+
+    Here's to the Kid and the _Dirigo_,
+    He's off for a cruise on the Hwang-ho!
+
+The officers of the squadron, not wishing to spoil the fun, slipped off
+to the billiard room or the bridge tables, or strolled back to the bar.
+Most of them had letters to write for the American mail, which would
+leave the following morning, and more than one sighed as he glanced
+toward the upper veranda from below the club house. They knew how many
+and how long the years would be before any of those boys would be called
+"captain"--well, let them enjoy themselves! What was the use of
+croaking? There were compensations--of a sort. Even if one's people
+_were_ all on the other side of the globe or migrating from boarding
+house to boarding house in a vain endeavor to keep up with the changes
+in the billets of their husbands and fathers, one was still an officer
+of Uncle Sam's navy.
+
+So reflected Follansbee, executive officer of the flagship _Ohio_, which
+had slipped into Woosung, ten miles below Shanghai, just as the sunset
+gun on the forts was echoing over the closely packed junks along the
+water front, and while the boy was engrossed to the extent of total
+oblivion with the club steward over the decoration of his dinner table
+and the choice between various highly recommended brands of Scotch and
+Irish. Follansbee was a good sort, who had already waited thirty-five
+years to get his battleship and was waiting still, and he had seen Jack
+Russell, the boy's father, die the year before at Teng-chan of a
+combination of liver and disappointment, all too common among naval
+officers in the East. Follansbee's own liver was none of the best, but
+he had cut down on the drink, and, anyhow, his wife was coming out on
+the _Empress of India_ next month. He hoped to God the _Ohio_ wouldn't
+be ordered to Sulu or some place impossible for her to follow him. That
+boy of Russell's--he liked that boy, he was all to the good; knew his
+place and kept his mouth shut. Follansbee wasn't going to butt in and
+spoil his fun. It would do him good to get a little drunk. He remembered
+when he got _his_ first gunboat--thirty years ago. Whew! Follansbee
+stared up at the veranda, then sighed again and started down the _bund_.
+
+Shanghai harbor was alive with light. The murmur of the city rose and
+fell on the soft, fragrant air, shockingly penetrated every now and then
+by the discordant shrieks of swiftly hurrying launches. The _bund_ was
+crowded with coolies, some toiling with heavy loads, others pulling
+their 'rikishas. Here and there flashed the colored lanterns of
+pedestrians. Beyond the junks lay many cruisers sweeping the starlit
+night with their quickly moving searchlights. Then one of these took him
+bang between the eyes and he stumbled and fell against some one coming
+up the walk.
+
+"Where the deuce--!" shouted a clear young voice angrily. Then the note
+changed. "I beg pardon, sir--these confounded lights--I didn't see you
+at all."
+
+Follansbee returned the midshipman's salute.
+
+"Don't mention it!" he growled. "But what are you doing ashore? I
+thought you had the deck."
+
+"I did, but I'm trying to find Russell. The Admiral wants him. I took
+the ship's launch to the _Dirigo_ and they said there he was ashore and
+hadn't left any word, only that he'd be back late. Have you seen him?"
+
+"Can't you _hear_ him?" inquired Follansbee laconically.
+
+A figure in white duck loomed suddenly into view on the veranda rail
+waving a bottle and shouting at the top of his lungs:
+
+    "I've got command of the _Dirigo_
+    An' I'm off for a cruise on the Hwang-ho!"
+
+followed by a tremendous chorus accompanied by cracking glass and
+unearthly yells.
+
+"Do I!" exclaimed the midshipman under his breath. "Is that him?"
+
+At that moment a searchlight illumined the figure in question and the
+midshipman answering his own question, "Yes, that's him," scrambled on
+up the steps.
+
+Follansbee wondered how long it would take to deliver the Admiral's
+order and felt his way gingerly through the crowded street.
+
+When the midshipman burst panting upon them they were standing on their
+chairs with their arms around one another's necks shouting the swinging
+chorus of
+
+    "The good old summer ti-i-me!
+    Oh, the good old summer ti-i-me!
+    For she's my tootsie-wootsie in
+    The good old summer ti-i-me!"
+
+"Come on up! There's plenty of room on my chair!" cried the boy
+excitedly, at sight of the midshipman, "we've only just begun." His
+face was very, very red and his eyes were very, very bright.
+
+    "Oh, the good old summer time!
+    Oh, the good old----"
+
+"Here, what's the matter with you? Let me alone! What?"
+
+He dropped his arms and climbed soberly enough down to the veranda floor
+while his comrades continued their refrain.
+
+"Orders! From the Admiral! Is he here? I didn't know that the _Ohio_ had
+come in. With you in a jiffy."
+
+"Don't wait," urged the midshipman, "it's important!"
+
+The boy turned white.
+
+"It isn't--bad news?" he asked apprehensively.
+
+"No, no," answered the other quickly, remembering the news the boy had
+had the year before. "Just orders."
+
+"Well, I won't spoil their fun," said the boy, echoing the sentiments
+earlier expressed by Follansbee. "Back in a minute, fellows: I've got to
+telephone! On with the dance, let joy be unrefined!"
+
+While they slipped through the door the chorus changed again, and as the
+boy seized his cap, sprang down the steps and started for the launch
+landing, high above and behind him, he could still hear them singing:
+
+    "Here's to the Kid and the _Dirigo_,
+    He's off for a cruise on the Hwang-ho!"
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+"You sent for me, sir?"
+
+Jack Russell stood in the doorway of the Admiral's cabin on the _Ohio_,
+cap in hand. The Admiral had been poring over some papers on his desk
+and for a moment did not dissect the voice from the whirring of the
+electric fan over his head, but as the boy took a step or two forward he
+turned and nodded.
+
+"Oh, it's you, Russell. I didn't mean to disturb you on shore, but I've
+something for you to do and the sooner you start the better."
+
+The boy awaited his words breathlessly--his first orders.
+
+"It's rather a mean job, but I've nobody else available and, if you make
+good--of course, you _will_ make good--in fact, it's rather a chance to
+distinguish yourself."
+
+"Thank you, sir."
+
+The Admiral paused as if surely to observe the effect of his words.
+
+"I want you to rescue a couple of missionaries."
+
+The boy's countenance remained immobile.
+
+"I received word this evening," continued the Admiral, picking up a
+half-smoked cigar, "that the rebellion has spread into Hu-peh and as far
+south as Kui-chan. They have murdered three American missionaries. Most
+of the others have escaped and have been reported safe, but nothing can
+be learned of two missionaries at Chang-Yuan--very estimable people,
+highly thought of in their denomination."
+
+"Yes, sir," said the boy, his eyes beaming on the Admiral.
+
+"You are to start at once--at once, understand, and go up the river past
+Hankow and Yochow. At Tung-an you reach the treaty limits, but you
+haven't time to explain, and probably explanations wouldn't do any good.
+There are two old forts there, and you'll just have to run by
+them--that's all. It is six hundred miles to Hankow. With luck you can
+be there easily inside of four days, but Chang-Yuan isn't on the
+Yang-tse-Kiang--it's on the Yuang-Kiang somewhere on Lake Tung-ting.
+You've got to find it first, and the charts are of no use. The trouble
+is that the lake dries up in winter and in summer overflows all the
+country round. If you can't get a local guide who knows the channel you
+will have to trust to luck. The fact that it's in the forbidden
+territory adds one more difficulty, but if I know Jack Russell's
+son----"
+
+"Oh, thank you, sir!" cried the boy. "What a chance!" he added half to
+himself.
+
+"Yes, it is a chance," answered the Admiral, "and I'm glad you've got
+it, but if you get aground among the rioting natives!--well, it's got to
+be done."
+
+"I have no interpreter, sir," said the boy.
+
+"Smith has secured one," replied the Admiral, "and through him we have
+found a Shan-si-man who says he knows the river above Hankow and is
+willing to act as guide. They are on the lower deck waiting. You will,
+of course, have the government pilot as far as Hankow. Now, good luck to
+you. I expect to be here for two weeks and you will report to me at
+once on your return your success or failure." He held out his hand.
+"Good luck to you again."
+
+The boy shook hands with the Admiral but still remained standing beside
+him.
+
+"Well?" said the Admiral. "Is there anything else?"
+
+"Yes," replied the boy apologetically, "you have not given me
+the--gentleman's name."
+
+"Bless my soul! So I haven't!" exclaimed the Admiral, fumbling among his
+papers, then raising one to the light: "The Rev. Theophilus Newbegin,"
+he read slowly, "and wife."
+
+The boy saluted his Admiral and retired with a respectful "Good night,
+sir." Once in the privacy of the wardroom companionway, however, he
+began to giggle, which giggle speedily expanded into a loud guffaw on
+his reaching the main deck. It sounded vaguely like "Newbegin." He
+leaned against the forward awning pole, shaking with laughter.
+
+"I say, what's the joke?" inquired the midshipman approaching him from
+the shadow of the main turret. "Let a fellow in, won't you?"
+
+But the boy still shook silently without replying.
+
+"Oh, go on! What's the joke?" repeated the other. "Did 'Whiskers' give
+you a 'Laughing Julip'?"
+
+"Newbegin!" exploded the boy. "Newbegin!"
+
+"New begin what?" persisted the midshipman irritably. "Have you gone
+dotty? I hope you didn't act that way in 'Whiskers'' cabin. I believe
+you're drunk!"
+
+The boy suddenly jerked himself together.
+
+"Look here, Smith, you shut up. I'm your rankin' officer and I won't
+have such language. I'll tell you the joke--when I know whether it is
+one or not."
+
+Smith made a face at him.
+
+"By the way, smarty," continued the boy, "have you got two Chinks for
+me? If you have, send 'em along. I'm off to the _Dirigo_ on the launch."
+
+"Yes, I got 'em at the English consul's. Say, what's up? Can't you tell
+a feller?"
+
+"Mr. Smith, send those two Chinks to the gangway!" thundered the boy.
+
+The midshipman turned and walked hastily around the turret.
+
+"Here you, Yen, come out of there!" he called.
+
+Two Chinamen arose from the deck where they had been sitting
+crosslegged, leaning against the turret, and shuffled slowly forward.
+
+"Here are your Chinks!" growled Smith, still aggrieved.
+
+The ensign paid no further attention to him but pushed the nearest
+Chinaman toward the gangway.
+
+"Get along, boys," he remarked, "your Uncle William is in a hurry." As
+the smaller of the two seemed averse to haste he gave him a slight
+forward impetus with his pipe-clayed boot. The two descended more
+rapidly and he followed. A sudden regret took possession of him as he
+thought of the possibility of his never seeing Smith again--of his dying
+of thirst, aground in a dried-up lake--or of being tortured to death in
+a cage in a Chinese prison.
+
+"Good-by, Smithy," he called over his shoulder. But there was no answer.
+
+The launch was bobbing at the foot of the steps, its screw churning the
+water into a boiling froth that reflected a million strange gleams
+against the warship's water line. The Chinamen hesitated.
+
+"Get along, boys," he repeated, stepping into the stern sheets. "We've
+got a long way to go and we might as well begin--Newbegin."
+
+The Chinamen huddled under the launch's canopy, the boy gave the word to
+go ahead, the bell rang sharply and the launch started on its long trip
+up to Shanghai.
+
+Slowly the _Ohio_ receded from him, somber, implacable, sphinxlike. On
+her bridge a man was wigwagging to the _Oregon_ with an electric signal.
+The searchlights from the war vessels arose and wavered like huge
+antennæ feeling for something through the night, now and again paving a
+golden path from the launch to the ships. The illusion was that the
+vessels were moving away from the launch, not the launch from them. Out
+of the zone of the searchlights the water was black and lonesome. Just
+as soon as the ships got far enough away to appear stationary the launch
+seemed racing through the water at a hundred miles an hour. Other
+launches shrieked past bearing to their ships officers who had just come
+down by train to Woosung. Up the Whompoa River the ten-mile-distant
+lights of Shanghai cast a dim, nebulous glow against the midnight sky.
+Two hours later the little _Dirigo_ seemed to loom out of the darkness
+and come rapidly toward them as the launch ran up to her gangway.
+
+"Is that you, McGaw?" called the boy sharply. "Here are two Chinks, an
+interpreter and another one. Fix 'em up somewhere. We start up the
+Yang-tse as soon as you can get up steam. I want to make Nanking by day
+after to-morrow sunrise. Send ashore and get the pilot. Don't waste any
+time, either."
+
+"All right, sir," answered the midshipman, "we can start in half an
+hour, sir."
+
+The boy ran up the ladder, followed slowly by the Chinamen. At the cabin
+companionway he paused and looked at his watch. It was half after one
+o'clock.
+
+"Here you, boys," he shouted after the Chinamen, "come down into my
+cabin, I want to speak to you."
+
+He led the way down into his tiny wardroom and threw himself into a
+wicker chair placed at the focus of two electric fans. The thermometer
+registered ninety degrees Fahrenheit, but it was almost as hot on deck
+as below, and below various thirst alleviators were at hand. He poured
+out a whisky and soda and beckoned to the Chinamen to draw nearer. The
+first was short, fat, and jovial, with chronic humor creases about his
+mouth, and his hair done in a long orthodox cue which hung almost to the
+heels of his felt slippers. The other, the Shan-si man, was tall and
+square-shouldered, and he carried his chin high and his arms folded in
+front of him. His cue was curled flat on his head, and on his face was
+the expression of him who walks with the immortal gods.
+
+"What's your name?" asked the boy, waving the Manila cheroot he was
+lighting at the fat Chinaman. The little man grinned instantly, his face
+breaking into stereotyped wrinkles like an alligator-skin wallet.
+
+"Me--Yen. Charley Yen. Me belong good fella," he added with confidence.
+"Mucha laugh."
+
+"Who's the other chap?" inquired the boy. "He no mucha laugh, eh?"
+
+Yen shrugged his shoulders and, looking straight in front of him, held
+voluble discourse with his comrade.
+
+"He no say," he finally replied. "He velly ploud. He say his ancestors
+belong number one men before Uncle Sam maka live. He say it maka no
+diffence. You maka pay, he maka show. Name no matter."
+
+"Well, I'm sort of proud myself," remarked the boy, hiding a smile by
+sucking on his cheroot. "Tell this learned one that I know just how he
+feels. Tell him I'm going to call him 'Mr. Dooley' after the most
+learned man in America."
+
+Yen addressed a few remarks to the Shan-si man who murmured something in
+reply.
+
+"He tanka you."
+
+"I suppose you're a Christian?" asked the boy, suddenly recollecting the
+object of his expedition.
+
+"I belong Clistian, allasame you," answered Yen, assuming a quasi-devout
+expression. "Me believe foreign man joss allight."
+
+The boy regarded him thoughtfully.
+
+"Me b'lieve Chinee joss pigeon, too," added Yen cheerfully. "Me mucha
+b'lieve. B'lieve everyt'ing. Me good fun."
+
+"Yes," said the boy, "how about 'Dooley'?--is he a Christian?"
+
+Yen turned, but at his first liquid syllable the man from Shan-si drew
+himself up until it seemed that his shoulders would touch the cabin
+roof, and burst forth into a torrent of speech. Yen translated rapidly,
+scurrying along behind his sentences like a carriage dog beneath an
+axletree.
+
+No, he was no Christian. The sword of Hung-hsui-chuen had slain his
+ancestors. Twenty millions of people had perished by the sword of the
+Taipings. The murderous cry of "Sha Yao"[1] had laid the land desolate.
+He was faithful to the gods of his ancestors.
+
+[Footnote 1: "Slay the Idolaters."]
+
+"Tell 'Dooley' I lika him. Say I think he's a good sport," said the boy,
+nodding at the Shan-si man.
+
+"He say mucha tanks," translated Yen.
+
+"Ask him if he knows Lake Tung-ting."
+
+Mr. Dooley conveyed to the boy through Yen that he had been once to
+Chang-Yuan. The lake was wide in summer and he had been there at that
+time. He took pleasure in the service of the American Captain. But the
+Captain must be patient. He was a musk buyer, buying musk in western
+Szechuan on the Thibetan border. Two years ago he had saved five hundred
+taels and returned home to bury his family--nine persons counting his
+wife--all of whom had perished in the famine. The famine was very
+devastating. Then he married again one whom he had left at home. He
+allowed her ten taels a year. She could live on one pickle of wheat and
+she had the rest to spend as she liked. He preferred better the musk
+buying and returned. He gave the Captain much thanks.
+
+"That is very interesting," said the boy. "You may go."
+
+There was a tremendous rattling of chains along the sides, the steam
+winch began to click, and the two Chinamen vanished silently up the
+companionway. The boy leaned back in his wicker chair and gazed
+contemplatively about him at the shotgun and sporting rifle over the
+bookcase, the piles of paper-covered novels, the pointer dog coiled up
+on the transom, the lithographs fastened to the walls, and the
+photographs of his father and mother. He took another sip of whisky and
+water and, putting down the glass, thought of how proud his father would
+have been to see him in his first command. He had the happy
+consciousness of having done well, and he was going to make good--the
+Admiral had said so. He had had a bully time in the East so far, away
+ahead of what he had dreamed when at the Naval Academy. That winter at
+Newchwang, racing the little Manchurian ponies over the springy turf of
+the polo ground, shooting the big golden pheasants, wandering on leave
+through the country, stopping at the Chinese inns and taking chances
+among the Hanghousers. It had been great. Hong Kong had been great. It
+had been good fun to play tennis and drink tea with the
+pink-and-white-faced English girls. Well, he was off! His naval career
+had really begun. He lit another cheroot and strolled leisurely on deck
+to superintend the operation of heaving up the anchors.
+
+Slowly the _Dirigo_ floated away from the lights of Shanghai, felt her
+way cautiously down the Wompoa to Woosung and into the broad expanse of
+the Yang-tse. Anchored well out lay the _Ohio_ black against the coming
+dawn. A band of crimson clouds swept the lowlands to the east and
+between them the tide flowed in an oily purple flood.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+A heavy jar followed by a motionless silence awoke the boy at ten
+o'clock the next morning. The electric fans were still going and he had
+a thick taste in his mouth, but he had hardly time to notice these
+things before he dashed up the companionway and out upon the deck. To
+starboard the water extended to the horizon, to port a thin line of
+brown, a shade deeper in color than the water, marked the bank of the
+great river. Alongside helplessly floated a junk with a great gash in
+her starboard beam. She was loaded with crockery, and several bales of
+blue-and-white rice bowls had tumbled into the water, their contents
+bobbing about like a flock of clay pigeons. The boy saw instantly that
+owing to the fact that the junk was built in compartments she was in no
+danger of sinking, and could easily reach shore. Her captain, a
+half-naked man in a straw hat the size of a small umbrella, was
+chattering like a monkey at Charley Yen, and a Chinese woman, with a
+black-eyed baby of two years or thereabouts, sat idly in the stern
+evincing no particular interest in the accident. The man at the wheel
+explained that the junk had suddenly tacked. The boy felt in his pocket
+and, pulling out a Mexican dollar, tossed it to the junk man, who,
+having rubbed it on his sleeve and bitten it, began to chatter anew to
+Charley Yen.
+
+"What does he say?" asked the boy.
+
+"He say Captain belong number one man--he mucha tanks," answered Yen
+with a grin. What a waste! he added. The fellow had sailed on the feast
+day of Sai-Kao because on that day the Likin or native customs were
+closed. The gods had punished him. He had no complaint to make and had
+made none. As the _Dirigo_ shot ahead the junk man sprang into the water
+and began rescuing his rice bowls. They passed no other junk that day,
+and the leaden sky did not change its shade. Save for the driving of the
+screw they might have been anchored in the midst of a coffee-colored
+ocean. Not even a bird relieved the eager search of the eye for relief
+from the immeasurable brown. The heat continued intense, and was even
+more unbearable than when the sun's rays created a fictitious contrast
+of shadow. Early in the afternoon Yen called the boy's attention to a
+couple of dolphins which were following them, racing first with the
+_Dirigo_ and then with each other. Indeed, they were all three very much
+alike, and the majestic sweep and rush of the gray-white sides as they
+rose from the water inspired him with a sense of companionship. How far
+would they follow, these faithlessly faithful wanderers of the sea? At
+sunrise the next morning they picked up Nanking and the river gave more
+evidence of life, but they kept on and soon the city and its walls faded
+behind them. At noon they passed Wu-hu, at the same hour next day
+Kiukiang, and when the boy rose on the morning of the third day out, the
+black mass of crowded up-country junks on the water front of Hankow,
+swarming like mosquitoes or water flies about a stagnant pool, loomed
+into view. The river was full of sampans and fishing boats. The man from
+Shan-si, who had not spoken since the night in the cabin, raised his
+arm, and pointing to the pagoda repeated majestically to Yen the words
+of the ancient Chinese proverb:
+
+    "Above is Heaven's Hall,
+    Below are the cities of Su and Hang."
+
+During the day they passed Kia-yu and Su-ki-kan, and late in the
+afternoon swept into sight of Yo-chow. The Shan-si man announced that
+Tung-ting was not so very far away. He even volunteered that this was
+the greatest country under "Heaven's Hall" for the exportation of
+bristles, feathers, fungus, musk, nutgalls, opium, and safflower. The
+place presented a crowded, if not particularly ambitious, appearance.
+The shore was jammed, as usual, with thousands of junks, and above the
+town the muddy banks were lined with Hunan timber and bamboo rafts. From
+the bridge of the _Dirigo_ the boy caught from time to time swiftly
+shifting views of vast swampy plains, with a ragged line of scattered
+distant mountains. Then they passed beyond the bend in the river and
+suddenly entered what seemed another ocean, a northwest passage to
+Cathay. As far as the eye could reach stretched an illimitable void of
+waters, turbid, motionless. A rocky point, some ten feet higher than the
+surrounding plain, just gave a foothold for a small temple, a two-story
+Ting-tse or pavilion, and a lighthouse shaped like a square paper
+lantern. Ten minutes later it was a black spot in their boiling, brown
+wake. They were in Tung-ting, that desolate waste of mud, water, and
+sandhill islands, half swamp, half lake that rises into being by virtue
+of the expanding spring torrents, and sinks into its spongelike alluvial
+bed as mysteriously as it comes.
+
+"Whew!" whistled the boy, "I only hope 'Dooley' knows where he's at. I
+wish we'd taken on a _lao-ta_ at Hankow. This hole must be a hundred
+miles long and it's just about ten feet deep!"
+
+In fact, the quartermaster had already called the boy's attention to the
+long grasses that swung idly upon the top of the water, and to the fact
+that here and there patches of bottom could be seen.
+
+"Where is Chang-Yuan in all this mess?" he inquired of 'Dooley' who with
+Yen occupied a place beside him on the bridge.
+
+The Shan-si pointed to a conical-shaped island several miles distant
+which raised itself steeply out of the water, on which the boy could see
+through his glasses clung a Chinese village. Flocks of wild fowl
+speckled the middle distance with a single lone fisherman on the
+starboard bow.
+
+"He says," interrupted Yen, "Sim-wu have got on that island. This place
+belong very good for Chinaman--have got plenty of rice. Plenty water
+summer time. Winter time water all finish. He says he no think enough
+water for this boat. Little more far--about thirty li--have got 'nother
+island--after while catchee Chang-Yuan."
+
+"Ask him how fast his bloomin' lake is drying up," directed the boy.
+
+The Shan-si man shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"He says," announced Yen, "if fish belong thirsty they drink water
+plenty quick. Fish no thirsty plenty water. Sometime fish drink one foot
+water in four days."
+
+The sun, which up to this time had been visible only as a dim circle in
+the gray western sky, suddenly broke through with scorching intensity
+and at the same moment the _Dirigo_ slid gracefully upon a mudbank, half
+turned, and slid gracefully off again. The boy bit his lips and stared
+hopelessly at the yellow plain of water all about him. Then he shook his
+fist at the Shan-si man.
+
+"Tell him," he roared, "that if we get aground in his infernal lake,
+I'll hang him up by the thumbs and cut off his head."
+
+Yen conveyed the message.
+
+"Even so," replied the Shan-si, through the interpreter, "the will of
+the Captain is my will and my head is at the Captain's service, but even
+the gods cannot prevent the fish from drinking up the lake."
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+"Ugh! What a town!" exclaimed the boy as the _Dirigo_ dropped anchor
+Sunday morning a hundred yards off the embankment of Chang-Yuan. A
+broiling sun beat pitilessly upon the deck of the gunboat and upon the
+half mile of mud and ooze which lay along the water edge of the town.
+Even in summer Chang-Yuan was well above the water, the shore pitching
+steeply to the level of the lake. Down this incline was thrown all the
+waste and garbage of the town, and in the slime grubbed and rooted a
+horde of Chinese dogs and pigs and a score of human scavengers. Just
+above the _Dirigo_ hung a house of entertainment, from the rickety
+balcony of which a throng of curious citizens stared down inquisitively.
+To the left stood a guild house and a pagoda, and five noble flights of
+stone steps crowned with archways led from the water to the roadway, but
+these last were so covered with slime that climbing up and over the muck
+seemed preferable to risking a fall on their treacherous surfaces.
+
+"Ugh! What a hole!" repeated the boy. "Hah! Get away there you!" he
+shouted at the _sampans_ which swarmed around the _Dirigo_. "Here you,
+Yen, tell the beggars to keep off!"
+
+This Yen did, assuring the occupants of the boats that boiling oil would
+be distributed upon them if they did not retire.
+
+So this was Chang-Yuan! The boy sniffed the malodorous air and wrinkled
+his nose.
+
+    "What though the spicy breezes blow soft o'er Ceylon's Isle,
+    Where every prospect pleases and only man is vile!
+
+Gee! I wish the old boy that wrote that could have seen this place!
+Every prospect pleases! Only _man_ is vile! This town is a sort of human
+pigsty so far as I can see. And I'll bet there is a fat old _erfu_
+hiding in the middle of this rabbit warren who makes a good thing out of
+it, you bet!"
+
+The crowd on the embankment was growing momentarily larger, a silent,
+slit-eyed crowd of uncanny yellow faces. Beyond and under the distant
+line of blue hills thin columns of smoke marked the sites of the towns
+devastated by the inconsiderate Wu. A friend of Yen's had told the
+latter all about it. He had come aboard and had breakfasted, and for
+five hundred cash had been induced to admit that at the present juncture
+Chang-Yuan was a most unhealthy place for missionaries, that the
+inhabitants were quite ready to join Wu, and that when he arrived there
+would be the Chinese devil to pay. He offered for five hundred cash more
+to act as guide to the _erfu_'s house. On the whole, it seemed desirable
+to accept his proposition. Half an hour later a boat put off from the
+_Dirigo_ containing the boy, Yen, the friend, and four bluejackets. The
+crowd on the embankment almost pushed one another off the edge in their
+eagerness to watch the white devils climbing up the steps, and hardly
+allowed room for the boy and his squad to force a way through them.
+
+Chang-Yuan was a typical example of an inland Chinese town, with dirty,
+narrow streets, swarming with human vermin. A throng followed close at
+the Americans' heels as they marched to the _erfu_'s house, but quailed
+before the bodyguard who rushed out threateningly at them. It took half
+an hour before the _erfu_ could receive them and then they were ushered
+into a dim room where a flabby old man, with a sly, vacant face sat
+crosslegged before a curtain. Through Yen, the boy explained that he had
+called as an act of official courtesy, and that he had come to remove
+certain American missionaries from danger which he understood existed by
+virtue of the proximity of the rebel Wu. The _erfu_ listened without
+expression. Then he spoke into the air.
+
+He was much honored at the visit of the American naval officer. But what
+could a poor old man like himself do against the great Wu? He had no
+soldiers. The townsfolk were ready to join the rebels. It was only a
+question of time. He could do nothing. He regretted extremely his
+inability to furnish assistance to the Americans.
+
+The boy asked if it was true that the rioters were on their way and
+might reach the town that afternoon. The _erfu_ said it was so. Then,
+after warning him that the United States Government would hold him
+responsible for the lives of its citizens, the boy retired, convinced
+that the sooner he got his missionaries away the better it would be for
+them.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+The Rev. Theophilus Newbegin had just concluded divine service upon the
+veranda of the mission. Beyond the iron gateway a crowd of twenty or so
+onlookers still lingered, commenting upon the performance which they had
+witnessed, and jeering at the Chinese women who had just hurried away.
+Two of the women were carrying babies and all had had the cholera the
+season before. Because they had not died they attended service and were
+objects of hatred to their relatives. The Rev. Newbegin closed his Bible
+and wiped his broad, shining forehead with a red silk handkerchief. He
+was a large man who had once been fat and was now thin. Owing to the
+collapse of his too solid flesh his Chinese garments hung baggily upon
+his person and gave him an unduly emaciated appearance.
+
+Mrs. Newbegin was still stout. Ten years of mission life had not
+disturbed her vague placidity and she sat as contentedly upon the
+veranda in Chang-Yuan as she had sat in her garden summer-house in
+distant Bangor, Maine, whence she and her husband had come. The fire of
+missionary zeal had not diminished in either of them. The word had come
+to them one July morning from the lips of an eloquent local preacher,
+and full of inspiration they had responded to the call and departed "for
+the glory of the Lord."
+
+And China had swallowed them up. Twice a year, sometimes oftener, a
+boat brought bundles of newspapers and magazines, and a barrel or two
+containing all sorts of valueless odds and ends, antiquated books,
+games, and ill-assorted clothing. These barrels were the great annoyance
+of their lives. Often as he dug into their variegated contents the meek
+soul of the Rev. Theophilus rebelled at being made the repository of
+such junk.
+
+"One would think, Henrietta," sadly sighed Newbegin, "that the good
+people at home imagined that we spent our time playing parchesi and the
+Mansion of Happiness, and reading Sandford and Merton."
+
+Once came a suit of clothes entirely bereft of buttons, and most of the
+undergarments were adapted to persons about half the size of the
+missionary and his wife, but the Rev. Newbegin had a little private
+fortune of his own and it cost very little to live in Chang-Yuan.
+
+The crowd at the gate had been bigger than usual this Sunday, and during
+the service had hurled a considerable quantity of mud and sticks and a
+few dead animals which now remained in the foreground, but this was due
+entirely to the new hatred of the foreign devils engendered by the
+rioters, and many of those who to-day howled at the gate of the compound
+had been glad enough six months before to creep to the veranda and beg
+for medicine and food. Now all was changed. The victorious Wu was coming
+to drive these child eaters from the land. Already he had laid the
+country waste for miles to the north and west, and had slain three witch
+doctors and hung their bodies upon pointed stakes before the temple
+gates. He was marching even now with his army from Tung-Kuan--a distance
+of fifteen miles. Nominally loyal to the dynasty, the inhabitants of
+Chang-Yuan eagerly awaited his coming. The white devils pretended to
+heal the sick but in reality they poisoned them and caused the sickness
+themselves. Those who survived their potions had an evil spirit. The
+crowd at the gate licked its lips at what would take place when Wu
+should arrive. There would be a fine bonfire and a great killing of
+child eaters. Their hatred even extended to the daughter of the foreign
+devil--her whom once they had been wont to call "The Little White
+Saint," who had nursed their children through the cholera and brought
+them rice and rhubarb during the famine. Wu would come during the day
+and then--! The uproar at the gate grew louder. Newbegin laid his moist
+hand upon that of his wife and looked warningly at her as there came a
+rustle of silk inside the open door and their niece made her appearance.
+
+Margaret Wellington, now eighteen years old, had lived with them at
+Chang-Yuan for ten years. Her father, a naval officer, had died the year
+they had come out from America and they had picked up the little girl,
+the daughter of Newbegin's deceased only sister, at Hong Kong and
+brought her with them. Since then she had been as their daughter,
+working with them and entering enthusiastically into all their
+missionary labors. Sometimes they regretted not being able to give her a
+better education, and that she had no white companions but themselves,
+but the girl herself never seemed to miss these things and they believed
+that what was best for them was best for her. Were they not earning
+salvation? And was she not also? Was it not better for her to live in
+the Lord than to dwell in the tents of wickedness? Great as was their
+love for her it was nothing to their love for the Lord Jesus. For that
+they were ready and eager to lay down their lives--and hers.
+
+"Chi says the rioters are coming," said Margaret. Her hair was done in
+the Chinese fashion, and she was clad in Chinese dress from head to
+foot, for she had outgrown all her English clothes years ago and there
+were no others to take their place.
+
+"Yes, dear," answered her aunt, "I am afraid they are."
+
+"He says they will kill us," continued the girl. She articulated her
+English words in a way peculiar to herself, due to her strange
+up-bringing, but there was no fear in her brown eyes, and the paleness
+of her face was due only to the heat.
+
+The mob at the gate set up a renewed yelling at sight of her.
+
+"Dear, dear!" said her uncle irresolutely, "I don't believe it will be
+as bad as that. They will calm down by and by." He really felt very
+badly about Margaret. To be killed was all in the day's work so far as
+Henrietta and he were concerned. They had anticipated it sooner or later
+almost as a matter of course, but Margaret----
+
+A stick hurtled across the compound and fell on the veranda at his feet.
+He knew that it would take but little to excite the mob at the gate to
+frenzy, but he had made no preparations to defend the compound, for it
+would have been quite useless. In that swarming city what could one aged
+missionary and two women do to protect themselves? Chi, the only male
+convert, was hardly to be depended upon and all the rest were women. No,
+when the time came they would surrender their lives and accept
+martyrdom. It was for that that they had come to China. Newbegin's mind
+worked slowly, but he was a man of infinite courage.
+
+"Dear, dear!" he repeated, looking toward the gate.
+
+"Cowards!" cried the girl, her eyes flashing. "Ungrateful people! They
+will kill us, and Chi, and Om, and Su, and the other women and their
+babies. We must do something to protect them."
+
+"Dear me! Dear me!" stammered her uncle again, rubbing his eyes. The
+crowd at the gate had fallen back and a strange vision had taken its
+place. Involuntarily he removed his hat. The girl uttered a cry of
+astonishment as the gate swung open and a young man in a white duck
+uniform entered the compound followed by four erect figures also in
+white and carrying rifles on their shoulders.
+
+"Bless me!" exclaimed Newbegin, "it looks like a naval officer!"
+
+The boy came straight to the veranda and touched his cap.
+
+"Are you the Rev. Theophilus Newbegin?" he inquired.
+
+"I am," answered the missionary, holding out his hand.
+
+"I am John Russell, ensign in command of the U. S. gunboat _Dirigo_. I
+have been sent by Admiral Wheeler to assist you to leave Chang-Yuan."
+
+"Bless me!" exclaimed the Rev. Theophilus. "Very kind of him, I'm sure!
+And you, too, of course, and you, too! Henrietta, let me introduce you
+to Ensign Russell. Er--won't those--er--gentlemen come inside and sit
+down?" he added, staring vaguely at the squad of bluejackets.
+
+"Oh, they're all right!" said the boy, shaking hands with Mrs. Newbegin,
+and wondering what sort of a queer old guy this was whom he had been
+sent to rescue. "Beastly hot, isn't it? Do you have it like this
+often?"
+
+"Eight months in the year," said Mrs. Newbegin, "but we're used to it."
+
+At this moment the boy became conscious of the presence of one whom he
+at first took to be the prettiest Chinese girl he had ever seen.
+
+"Let me present my niece--Ensign Russell," said Newbegin.
+
+The boy held out his hand but the girl only smiled.
+
+"It is very good of you to come so far to help us," said the girl.
+
+"Oh, no trouble at all!" exclaimed the boy without taking his eyes from
+her face. "I'm glad I got here in time," he added.
+
+"Did you come on a ship?" asked the girl.
+
+"Just a little gunboat," he answered, "but that makes me think. This
+plagued lake is sinking all the time. I got aground in half a dozen
+places. We've got to start right along back. I'm by no means sure we can
+get out as it is, but it's better than staying here. You'd oblige me by
+packing up as quickly as possible."
+
+"Eh?" said the Rev. Theophilus, with something of a start, "what's
+that?"
+
+"Why, that we've got to start right along or we'll be stuck here and
+won't be able to get away at all."
+
+"But I can't abandon the mission!" said Newbegin in wonder.
+
+"Certainly not!" echoed his wife placidly. "After all these years we
+cannot desert our post!"
+
+"But the rioters!" ejaculated the boy. "You'll be murdered! Wu will be
+here before night, they tell me, and there was a precious crowd of
+ruffians at the gate as I came along. Why, you can't stay to be
+killed!"
+
+Newbegin shook his head.
+
+"You do not understand," he said slowly. "We came out here to rescue
+these people from idolatry. Some of them have adopted Christianity.
+There are forty women and children converts. There are others who are
+almost persuaded; if we abandon them now we shall undo all our labor.
+No! we must stay with them, and die with them, if necessary, but we
+cannot go away now."
+
+"Great Scott!" cried the boy, "do you mean to say that----"
+
+"We cannot desert our post," repeated Mrs. Newbegin, looking fondly at
+her husband.
+
+"But--but--" began the boy.
+
+"Even if we die, there is the example," said Newbegin.
+
+The boy was puzzled. Of missionaries he had a poor enough opinion in
+general, and this one looked like a great oaf and so did his fat wife,
+but in the most ordinary way and with the commonest of accents he was
+talking of "dying for the example." Then his eyes returned to the girl
+who had been watching him intently all the time.
+
+"But," he exclaimed, "certainly you won't place your niece in such
+danger?"
+
+"No," said Newbegin, "that would not be right."
+
+"No," repeated the wife, "she had better go back."
+
+"I will not go back," cried the girl, "unless you go, too! This is my
+home. Your work is my work. I cannot leave Om and Su and their babies."
+
+"Good God!" muttered the boy hopelessly. "Don't you see you _must_ come?
+You _can't_ stay here to be murdered by the rioters! I can't _let_ you!
+On the other hand, I can only stay here an hour or two at the most. The
+_Dirigo_ is almost aground as it is and we shall have the dev--deuce of
+a time getting out of the lake."
+
+"Well," said Newbegin calmly, "I have told you that we cannot accept
+your offer. We are very grateful, of course, but it's impossible. It
+would not do; no, it would not do. A missionary expects this kind of a
+thing. I wish Margaret would go, but what can I do, if she won't go? I
+can't make her go."
+
+"I want to stay with you," said Margaret, taking his hand. "I will never
+leave you and Aunt Henrietta."
+
+The boy swore roundly to himself. The crowd of Chinese had returned to
+the gate, and the air of the compound stank in his nostrils. He took out
+his watch.
+
+"It's eleven o'clock," he said firmly. "At five I shall leave
+Chang-Yuan; till then you have to make up your minds. I will return in
+an hour or so."
+
+Newbegin shook his head.
+
+"Our answer will be the same. We are very grateful. I am sorry not to
+seem more hospitable. Have you seen the temple and the pagoda?"
+
+"No," answered the boy. "I suppose I might as well do the town, now I'm
+here."
+
+"I will show you the temple," said Margaret timidly. "They know me
+there, I nursed the child of the old priest. I will take you."
+
+"Yes," said Newbegin, "they all like Margaret, and I seem to be
+unpopular now. Will you not take dinner with us?"
+
+"Thank you," said the boy, "take dinner with _me_. Perhaps Mrs. Newbegin
+would like to see the gunboat, and I have some photographs of the new
+cruisers."
+
+Margaret gazed beseechingly at her.
+
+"Very well," said Newbegin, "if you will stop for us on your way back
+from the temple we shall be quite ready, but I must return at once after
+dinner in order to assemble the members of the mission."
+
+The girl led the way to the gate.
+
+"I'm sure you will not need the soldiers," she said; "it is but a short
+distance." The crowd, observing that the bluejackets had remained inside
+the compound, crowded close at the boy's heels as they threaded the
+streets to the temple.
+
+"I spend a good deal of time here," said the girl; "sometimes it is the
+only cool place."
+
+The boy paid the small charge for admission and followed his guide up
+the dim, winding stairs. It was dank and quiet; the priest had remained
+at the gate. From the blue-green shadows of the recesses upon the
+landings a score of Buddhas stared at them with sightless eyes. Suddenly
+they emerged into the clear air upon the platform of the top story and
+the girl spoke for the first time since they had entered.
+
+"There is Chang-Yuan," she said.
+
+The boy gazed down curiously. Below them blazed thousands of highly
+finished roofs, picturesque enough from this height, while beyond the
+town the soup-colored waters of the lake stretched limitless to the
+horizon. He could see the embankment and the little _Dirigo_ at anchor,
+the _sampans_ still swarming around it. To the south lay a country of
+swamps and of paddy fields; to the north the line of hills and the smoke
+of the burning towns.
+
+They sat down on a stone bench and gazed together at the uninviting
+prospect. He was beset with curiosity to ask her a thousand questions
+about herself, yet he did not know how to begin. She solved the problem
+for him, however.
+
+"I have lived here since I was eight years old," she remarked,
+apparently being unable to think of anything else to say.
+
+The boy whistled between his teeth.
+
+"Do you enjoy it?" he asked.
+
+"I don't know," she replied, "I don't know anything else. Sometimes it
+seems dull and one has to work very hard, but I think I like it."
+
+"But what do you do," he inquired, "to amuse yourself?"
+
+"I read," she said, "and play with Om and Su. I have taught them some
+American games. Do you know parchesi and the Mansion of Happiness?"
+
+"Yes, I've played them," he admitted cautiously. "But do you never see
+any white people except your uncle and aunt?"
+
+"Why, no," she said. "Two summers ago, after the cholera, we visited Dr.
+Ferguson at Chang-Wing--that is over there. He is a medical missionary,
+but I did not like him because he asked me to marry him. He was sixty
+years old. Do you think it was right?"
+
+"Right!" cried the boy. "It was a wicked sin."
+
+"Well, he is the only white man I have met except you," said the girl.
+"Of course, I can remember a little playing with boys and girls a long,
+long time ago. Where is your ship?"
+
+"That little white one down there. Can you see?" said the boy, pointing.
+
+"Oh, is that it?" she asked. "Where are its sails?"
+
+"There aren't any," he answered; "it goes by steam."
+
+"I have read the 'Voyage of the Sunbeam,'" she said, "it is a beautiful
+book. It came out last year in a box. I have nearly twenty books in
+all."
+
+The boy bit his lips. He was getting angry--angry that an American girl
+should have been imprisoned in such a hole all her young life--such a
+girl, too! What right had an elderly man and woman, even though they
+enjoyed the privilege of consanguinity, to exile a beautiful child from
+her native country and bring her up for the glory of God in a stewing,
+stinking, cholera-infested, famine-ridden Chinese village?
+
+"It is strange to find you here," he said finally. "I expected only some
+freckle-faced, jimmy-jawed, psalm-singing woman, who would tumble all
+over herself to get away."
+
+She looked at him puzzled for a moment and then burst into a ripple of
+laughter.
+
+"What funny things you say!" she cried. "I suppose it is strange to find
+me here, but why should I have freckles or a--what did you call it--a
+jimmy-jaw? I do sing psalms. But my being here is no stranger than that
+you should be here. I have often wished some young man would come. You
+are the first I have known. I am tired of only women."
+
+For a moment he was almost shocked at the open implication, but her
+frank eyes and matter-of-fact tone told him that the girl could not
+flirt. It was out of her sphere of existence.
+
+"Would you like to get married?" he hazarded.
+
+"Oh, yes!" she cried. "To a young man!"
+
+"But suppose you had to go away?"
+
+She looked a little puzzled for a moment.
+
+"Of course, I should not like to leave Om and Su, and I wouldn't leave
+uncle and aunt, but sometimes--sometimes I have wondered if one couldn't
+serve God in a pleasanter place and do just as much good."
+
+"Are there any men converts?" he asked.
+
+"Only Chi," she replied, "and I am quite sure he is an idolater at
+heart. Besides," she added, with a droll look in her eyes, "Chi is a
+gambler and is always drinking _samshu_. He had been drinking it this
+morning. I have often spoken to uncle about it, but he has not got the
+heart to send him away."
+
+The boy laughed.
+
+"I have a certain amount of sympathy with Chi," said he. "If I lived
+here I should be as bad as he is. I should think you would die of the
+heat and the smells, and never seeing anybody."
+
+"Oh, it's not so bad," she said spiritlessly. "You see, I have to work
+pretty hard. There are nearly twenty families now where there is
+sickness, and in case of anything contagious I go there and nurse.
+Sometimes I get very tired, but it keeps me occupied and so I suppose I
+don't think about--other things."
+
+"It's terrible to think of leaving you here," he said. "Can't you
+persuade your uncle and aunt that their duty does not require them to
+lay down their lives needlessly?"
+
+"No," she answered, "nothing would persuade them that it was not their
+duty to remain; nothing could persuade _me_ of that."
+
+"And you would not leave them?" he urged, almost tenderly.
+
+"Oh, how _could_ I? I must stay with them! Don't you see?" She took hold
+of his hand and held it. It was quite natural and totally unconscious.
+"That is what missionaries are for."
+
+A thrill traveled up the nerves of his arm and accelerated the motion of
+his heart.
+
+"That is not what _you_ are for," he said quietly.
+
+"I must! I must!" she repeated. "Oh, I should like to go with you, but I
+can't."
+
+"But think of yourself!" he cried harshly. "Your uncle and aunt can die
+for the glory of God if they choose, but they've no right to let you
+die, too, just out of loyalty to them. It's cruel and wrong. It makes me
+sick to think of you penned up here in this nasty, yellow place all
+these years when you ought to have been going to school, and riding and
+sailing, and playing tennis, and having a good time."
+
+"Oh!" she protested.
+
+"No, hear me out," he insisted, "and having a good time! You can serve
+God and yet be happy, can't you? And your place isn't here in the midst
+of cholera and famine and malaria. It's different with people who have
+lived their lives, but with you, so young and fresh and pretty."
+
+"Oh!" she cried joyfully, "do you think I am pretty? I'm so glad!"
+
+"Do I!" he replied hotly. "Too pretty to be allowed to go wandering
+around these crooked Chinese streets--" he checked himself. "I say it's
+a shame! And now to stay here, after all, to be butchered!" He jumped to
+his feet and ground his teeth.
+
+She gazed at him, startled, and said reproachfully:
+
+"I don't think it is right for you to say things like that. 'Whoso
+loseth his life for my sake shall find it.' Don't you remember?"
+
+He made no reply, realizing the hopelessness of his position.
+
+"Come," he said, "let us go back."
+
+She was afraid she had offended him but was too timid to do more than to
+take his hand and let him lead her gently down the winding stairs.
+
+At the gate of the temple they found the crowd augmented by several
+hundred persons, who closed in behind and marched along to the compound.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Newbegin were waiting on the veranda and the marines had
+been having a little _samshu_. The boy was by no means sorry to have the
+company of his escort for the rest of their walk, and the party made
+good time to the _Dirigo_. The _bund_ was alive with spectators and so
+was the whole long line of shore. There were Chinese everywhere, on the
+beach, on rafts, in _sampans_, swimming in the water, all around,
+wherever you looked there were a dozen yellow faces--waiting--waiting
+for something. Even in the broil of that inland sun the chills crept up
+the boy's spine.
+
+The Rev. Theophilus and his wife were much pleased with the gunboat and
+sat in the cabin in the draught of the two electric fans sipping
+lemonade, while the boy showed the girl over the _Dirigo_. He had made
+one last passionate appeal to the missionary and his wife, who had again
+flatly refused to leave the city. Margaret had likewise reasserted her
+determination not to desert them. The boy was in despair and cursed them
+to himself for stupid, bigoted fools. He was showing the girl his little
+stateroom with its tiny bookcase and pictures and she had paused
+fascinated before one which showed a group of young people gathered on a
+smooth lawn with tennis rackets in their hands. All were smiling or
+laughing. Margaret could not tear herself away from it.
+
+"How happy they look!" she whispered. "How fresh and clean and cool
+everything is! What are those things in their hands?"
+
+"What do you mean?" he asked.
+
+"The round things that look like nets," she explained.
+
+The boy gasped.
+
+"Tennis rackets! Do you mean to say you've never seen a tennis racket?"
+
+"I don't think so." She hesitated. "Perhaps ever so long ago when I was
+a little girl, but I've forgotten."
+
+The boy's anger flamed to a white heat as he glanced out through the
+stateroom door to where the Rev. Theophilus and wife sat stolidly
+luxuriating in the artificial draught.
+
+"When I was a child we lived for a while in Shanghai. My father's ship
+was there," she added.
+
+"Your father in the navy?" cried the boy hoarsely. "What was his name?"
+
+"Wellington," she answered. "He was a commander. He died at Hong Kong
+ten years ago."
+
+"Wellington! Richard Wellington? He was in my father's class at
+Annapolis!" cried the boy. Then he groaned and bit his lips. "Oh!--oh!
+it's a crime!"
+
+He dropped on one knee and took her hands.
+
+"Poor little girl!" he almost sobbed, "poor little girl! Think of it!
+Ten years! Poor child!"
+
+Margaret laid one hand on his head.
+
+"I am quite happy," she said calmly.
+
+"Happy!" He gave a half-hysterical laugh and shook his fist at the door.
+Then he leaned over and whispered eagerly:
+
+"You're tired, dear. Lie down for a few minutes and rest. Do--to please
+me."
+
+She smiled. "To please you," she repeated, as she leaned back among the
+cushions which he placed for her, and he closed the door.
+
+"Your niece is going to take a little nap," he explained to the
+missionary. "Here are some prints of the new battleships. I must ask you
+to excuse me for a moment. Saki will serve dinner directly."
+
+"Oh, certainly--of course," murmured Newbegin, recovering from
+semi-consciousness.
+
+The boy sprang up the hatch.
+
+"Here, McGaw!" he ejaculated, rushing to where his midshipman stood
+watching the swarm of _sampans_ that covered the lake around the
+_Dirigo_. "Get up steam! Do you hear? Get up steam as fast as you can!
+I'm going to hike out of this!"
+
+"All right, sir," replied McGaw in a rather surprised tone. "We can't
+get off any too soon to please me. Did you ever see such a hole? Hello!
+What's all that?" He pointed to a highly decorated _sampan_ coming
+rapidly toward them, before which the others parted of their own accord,
+making a broad line of water to the _Dirigo_.
+
+"By Godfrey! It's the mandarin!" cried the boy. "Where's Yen? Here you,
+Yen! Go make mucha laugh for the _erfu_!"
+
+The _sampan_, however, turned out not to contain the _erfu_. A small,
+fat Chinaman in the mandarin's livery stood up and bawled to Yen through
+his hands.
+
+"He say," translated Yen over his shoulder, "Wu no come. Viceroy soldier
+man make big fight--kill plenty--Wu finish. Allight now everybody.
+Missionary come back. Wu no make smoke, anyway. He long, long way off.
+This fella lika Melican naval officer maka lil _kumsha_[2] for good
+news. _Kumsha_ for maka mucha laugh."
+
+[Footnote 2: Present, gratuity.]
+
+"What!" roared the boy. "Pay him! Tell him to go to hell!"
+
+McGaw watched the boy as he stamped up and down the deck running his
+hands through his hair and wondered if he had a touch of sun. The
+mandarin's messenger still remained in an attitude of expectancy in the
+bow of the _sampan_. Suddenly the midshipman saw his superior officer
+rush to the side of the _Dirigo_ and throw a Mexican silver dollar at
+the Chinaman, who caught it with surprising dexterity.
+
+"Tell him," shouted the boy to Yen, "to say to the _erfu_ that he could
+not find us, that we had gone away before he could deliver his message!"
+
+The fat Chinaman prostrated himself in the _sampan_.
+
+"He say allight," remarked Yen.
+
+"Do you believe what he said?" demanded the boy threateningly of McGaw.
+
+"Sure," said the midshipman, "that's right enough! That old friend of
+Yen's was out here again about an hour ago, snooping around, drunk as a
+lord. He'd been loading up on _samshu_ ever since he went ashore. He
+says that Wu was killed over a month ago, that his head is on a temple
+gate five hundred miles north of here, and that the smoke over there is
+caused by burning brush on the hillsides. The rebellion is all over
+until next year. It's a great note for us, isn't it?"
+
+But the boy made no reply. He was staring straight through McGaw out
+across the lake. Suddenly he stepped close to the midshipman and
+muttered quietly:
+
+"Say, old man, for the sake of old times, can you forget all that?"
+
+"Sure," gasped McGaw, convinced that his previous suspicions had been
+correct.
+
+"Then forget it and get up steam!" said the boy, turning sharply on his
+heel.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+The click of the anchor engine was followed by the throbbing of the
+_Dirigo_'s screw, but both the Rev. Theophilus and wife supposed them to
+be the whirr of an unseen electric fan. Saki's dinner was exceptionally
+good, and there was a cold bottle of vichy for the missionary, who
+lingered a long time after the coffee to tell about the ravages of the
+cholera the year before. When at last they ascended to the deck there
+was nothing to be seen of Chang-Yuan but a glare of tile roofs on the
+distant horizon.
+
+"Bless me!" remarked the Rev. Theophilus, gazing stupidly at the
+coffee-colored waves about them. "What is the meaning of all this? Where
+are we going? I must go ashore. I have no time for pleasure sailing!"
+
+"Certainly not!" echoed his wife. "Kindly return at once! Why, we are
+miles from Chang-Yuan!"
+
+And then it was, according to McGaw, that the boy more than rose to the
+occasion and verified the prophecy of the Admiral, though under a
+somewhat different interpretation, that he would "make good," for,
+standing by Margaret's side, he saluted the missionary and with eyes
+straight to the front delivered himself of the following preposterous
+statement:
+
+"I exceedingly regret that my orders do not permit me to exercise the
+discretion necessary to return as you request. The Admiral commanding
+the Asiatic squadron specifically directed me to proceed at once to
+this place and rescue the Rev. Theophilus Newbegin and wife. I was given
+no option in the matter. I was to _rescue_ you, that is all. I received
+no instructions as to what to do in the event that you preferred not to
+be rescued, and I interpret my orders to mean that I am to rescue you
+whether you like it or not. Everything will be done for your entire
+comfort and Saki has already prepared my stateroom for Mrs. Newbegin. I
+trust that you will not blame me for obeying my orders."
+
+"Bless me!" stammered the Rev. Theophilus. "Dear me! I really do not
+know what to say! I am exceedingly disturbed. It seems to me like an
+unwarrantable interference--not on your part, of course, but on that of
+the Government. But," he added apologetically, "we cannot blame you for
+obeying your orders, can we, Henrietta?"
+
+But Mrs. Newbegin's ordinarily vacuous face bore a new and radiant
+expression.
+
+"I see the hand of Providence in this, Theophilus!" she said.
+
+"Yes--yes!" he answered, wiping his forehead. "God moves in a mysterious
+way--in an astonishing way, I might say." He looked regretfully over his
+shoulder toward the fast-vanishing Chang-Yuan.
+
+Margaret slipped her hand into his and laid her head on his arm. "I am
+so glad, uncle!" she whispered. He patted her cheek.
+
+"Yes, yes, it is probably better this way," he sighed. "Henrietta, let
+us retire to the cabin and consider what has happened. My young friend,
+be assured we bear you no ill will for your involuntary action in this
+matter."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Four evenings later under the snapping stars of the midsummer heaven
+Margaret Wellington and Jack Russell sat side by side in two camp chairs
+on the bridge of the _Dirigo_. The gunboat was sweeping round the great
+curve of the Yang-tse above Hankow and to starboard the pagodas of
+Wu-chang rose dimly through the lights of the city. Below in the hot
+cabin sat the Rev. Theophilus and his wife reading "The Spirit of
+Missions."
+
+"And now," said the boy, as he drew her hand through his, "you are going
+to be happy forever and always. The world is full of wonderful things
+and nice, kind people who are trying to do good and yet have a jolly
+time while they are doing it. And you will have the dearest mother a
+girl ever had. How proud she'll be of you! Now promise to forgive me;
+you know why I did it! Do you suppose I'd have dared to do it if I
+hadn't?"
+
+"Yes," she answered happily, "I knew why you did it and I forgive you,
+only, of course, it really was very wicked. But----"
+
+The sentence was never finished--to the delight of the government pilot
+behind them.
+
+"What do you think my uncle will say when we tell him?" she laughed.
+
+"He'll say, 'Bless me! Dear me! I don't know!'" answered the boy, and
+they both giggled hysterically.
+
+Abaft the black shadow of the smokestack Yen and the Shan-si man stood
+in silence watching the two on the bridge. The Shan-si man raised his
+arm once more in the direction of Wu-chang and made a joke.
+
+"Above is Heaven's Hall!" said he. "Below are--the two most foolish
+things in all the world--a boy and a girl!"
+
+
+
+
+THE VAGABOND
+
+
+      "There is no essential incongruity between crime and
+      culture."
+                    --_Oscar Wilde, "The Decay of Lying."_
+
+It was five o'clock, Sunday afternoon, and the slanting sunbeams had
+crawled across the bed and up the walls and vanished somehow into the
+ceiling when Voltaire McCartney came to himself, kicked off the
+patchwork quilt, elevated his torso upon one elbow and took an
+observation out of the dingy window. The prospect of the Palisades to
+the northwest was undimmed, for the wind was blowing fresh from the sea
+and the smoke from the glucose factory on the Jersey side was making
+straight up the river in a long, black horizontal bar, behind which the
+horizon glowed in a brilliant, translucent mass of cloud. McCartney
+swung his thin legs clear of the bed and fumbled with his left hand in
+the pocket of a plaid waistcoat dangling from the iron post. The act was
+unconscious, equivalent to the automatic groping for one's slippers
+which perchance the reader's own well-regulated feet perform on similar
+occasions. The pocket in question yielded a square of white tissue,
+which the fingers deftly folded, transferred to the other hand, and then
+filled with tobacco. Like others nourished upon stimulants and
+narcotics, McCartney awoke _absolutely_, without a trace of drowsiness,
+nervously ready to do the next thing, whatever that might chance to be.
+His first act was to pull on his shoes, the second to slip his
+suspenders over his rather narrow shoulders, and the third to light the
+cigarette. Then he sauntered across the room to the window sill, upon
+which slept profoundly a small tortoise-shell cat, and picked up a
+pocket volume, well worn, which he shook open at a point designated by a
+safety match. For several moments he devoured the page with his eyes,
+his hollow face filled with peculiar exaltation. Then he expelled a
+cloud of smoke sucked from the glowing end of his cigarette, tossed away
+the butt, and thrust the book into his hip pocket.
+
+    "O would there were a heaven to hear!
+    O would there were a hell to fear!
+    Ah, welcome fire, eternal fire,
+    To burn forever and not tire!
+
+    "Better Ixion's whirling wheel,
+    And still at any cost to feel!
+    Dear Son of God, in mercy give
+    My soul to flames, but--let me _live_!"
+
+He turned away from the window, and pale against the gaudy west his
+profile shone drawn and haggard. Restlessly he filched his pocket for
+another cigarette, and tossed himself wearily into a painted rocker. The
+cat awakened, elongated herself in a prodigious and voluptuous yawn of
+her whole body, dropped to the floor and leaped with a single spring
+into her master's lap. He stroked her sadly.
+
+"Isabeau! My poor Isabeau! I envy you--creature perfect in symmetry,
+perfect in feeling!"
+
+The cat rubbed her head against the buttons of his coat. McCartney
+leaned back his head. The little room was bare of ornament or of
+furniture other than the chair, save for a deal table at the foot of the
+bed, bearing a litter of newspapers and yellow pad paper.
+
+    "I am discouraged by the street,
+    The pacing of monotonous feet!"
+
+murmured the man in the rocker. The light died out above the Palisades;
+the cat snuggled down between her master's legs.
+
+    "Dear Son of God, in mercy give
+    My soul to flames, but let me _live_!"
+
+he added softly. Then he lifted the cat gently to the floor, threw on a
+short, faded reefer coat, and opened the door.
+
+"Well, Isabeau, it's time for us to go out and earn our supper!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+McCartney gazed solemnly down from the small rostrum upon which he was
+standing at the end of the saloon without so much as a smile in answer
+to the roar of appreciation with which his time-worn anecdote had been
+received.
+
+"Dot's goot!" shouted an abdominal "Dutchman," pounding the table with
+his beer mug. "Gif us 'n odder!"
+
+"Ya!" exclaimed his _confrère_. "Dot feller, he was a corker, eh?" He
+put up his hands and making a trumpet of them bawled at McCartney:
+"Here, kommen sie unt haf a glass bier mit us!"
+
+Three teamsters, a card sharp, a porter, two cabbies, and a dozen
+unclassables nodded their heads and stamped, while the bartender passed
+up a foaming stein to the performer. McCartney blew off the froth, bowed
+with easy grace to the assembled company, and drank. Then he descended
+to the table occupied by the Germans.
+
+"May you all have better luck than the gentleman in my story," he
+remarked. "But I for one shall go straight to the other place. Heaven
+for climate--hell for society, eh? Hoch der Kaiser!"
+
+The Germans threw back their heads and laughed boisterously.
+
+"Make that beer a sandwich, will you? Here, Bill, bring me a slice of
+cold beef and a cheese sandwich!"
+
+The bartender opened a small ice chest and produced the desired edibles,
+to which variation in their offered hospitality the two interposed no
+objection, being in fact somewhat in awe of their intellectual, if not
+distinguished, guest. As McCartney ate he produced a handful of
+transparent dice.
+
+"Ever see any dice like those?" he asked, rolling them across the wet
+table. The first German examined them with approval.
+
+"Dose is pooty, eh?" he remarked to his neighbor. "I trow you for die
+Schnapps, eh?"
+
+McCartney watched them covetously as they emptied the leathern shaker,
+solemnly counting the spots at the conclusion of each cast.
+
+"Here, let me show you how," volunteered their guest. "Poker hands." He
+rattled the dice and poured them forth. They came up indiscriminately.
+
+"Not so goot, eh?" commented the German. "I'll trow you. I'll trow
+ennyboty mit _clear_ dice. Venn dey ain't loated I can trow mit
+ennyboty." He held them up to the light. "Dese is clear--goot."
+
+"Three times for a dollar," said McCartney.
+
+"So," answered the German. He threw carefully, and counted two sixes, an
+ace, a three, and a five. He left in the sixes and threw the others.
+This time he got an ace and two fives. Once more he put them back, but
+accomplished no better result.
+
+"Now, I'll show you," said McCartney, and emptied the shaker. The dice
+tumbled upon the table to the tune of two aces, two deuces, and a five.
+He put back the deuces and the five and threw another ace, a three, and
+a five.
+
+"I win," he remarked. "You don't know how!"
+
+"Vat's dot? Don't know how, eh!" roared the other. "I trow you for fife
+dollars, see? Gif me dose leetle dice." He threw with a heavy bang that
+shook the table. This time he got two sixes, two aces, and a five, and
+put back the latter. Securing another ace he leaned back and took a
+heavy draught of beer. "Full house! Beat dat eef you can!"
+
+McCartney tossed the dice carelessly upon the board for two fours, one
+ace, and two fives. To the amazement of the Germans, he left in the ace
+and returned the other four to the shaker. This time he got two more
+aces. His last throw gave him another ace and a five.
+
+"Zum teuffel!" growled the German, thrusting his hand into his pocket
+and drawing forth a dirty wad of bills. "Here, take your money!" He
+handed McCartney six dollars.
+
+"Kind sirs, good night," remarked McCartney, thrusting the bills into
+his waistcoat pocket and arising from his place. "I must betake me
+hence. Experience is the only teacher. Let me advise you never to play
+games of chance with strangers."
+
+The two Germans stared at him stupidly.
+
+"You don't understand? Permit me. You saw the dice were not loaded? Very
+good! You examined them? Very good again. Your powers of observation are
+uncultivated, merely. The stern mother of invention--that is to say
+necessity--has obeyed the law of evolution. Three of the dice in my
+pocket bear no even numbers. The information is well worth your six
+dollars. Again, good night."
+
+"Betrüger!" cried the loser of the six dollars, arising heavily and
+upsetting his beer. "Dot feller skivinded us mit dice geloaded! _Sheet!
+Sheet!_"
+
+They blundered toward the side entrance, while McCartney side-stepped
+into an adjacent portal. Long Acre Square gleamed from end to end. Above
+him an electric display, momentarily vanishing and reappearing, heralded
+the attributes of the cigar sacred to the Scottish bard. Peering through
+the haze generated by the countless lights a few tiny stars repaid
+diligent search. A scanty number of pedestrians was abroad. The pantheon
+of delights shone silent save for an occasional clanging car. The
+Germans passed in search of an officer, excitedly jabbering about the
+"sheet," their angry expressions reverberating along the concrete,
+fading gradually into the hum of the lower town.
+
+Then slowly into view crept one of those anachronisms of the
+metropolis--a huge, shaggy horse slowly stalking northward, dragging a
+rickety express wagon whereon reposed a semisomnolent yokel. Hitched by
+its shafts to the tail of the wagon trailed a decrepit brougham
+(destined, probably, for country-depot service), behind this a
+debilitated Stanhope buggy, followed by a dogcart, a phaeton, a
+buckboard, with last of all a hoodless Victoria. This picturesquely
+mournful procession of vanished respectability staggered hesitatingly
+past our hero, who regarded it with vast amusement. To his fanciful
+imagination it appeared like the fleshless vertebræ of a sea serpent
+slowly writhing into the obscurity of the night. Occasionally one of the
+component dorsals would strike an inequality in the pavement and start
+upon a brief frolic of its own, swinging out of line at a tangent until
+hauled back into place again by the pull of the shaggy horse. Sometimes
+all started in different directions at one and the same time, and the
+semblance to a skeleton snake was heightened--even the ominous rattle
+was not wanting. The Victoria looked restful to McCartney, whose legs
+were always tired.
+
+    "Why should we fret that others ride?
+    Perhaps dull care sits by their side,
+    And leaves us foot-men free!"
+
+he hummed to himself, recollecting an old college glee.
+
+"All the same that old bandbox looks not uncomfortable. How long is it
+since I have used a cushion! Poverty makes a poor bedfellow!"
+
+As the last equipage swung by, McCartney took a few steps in the same
+direction and clambered in. He had become a "foot-man" in fact, but a
+very undignified and luxurious one, who lay back with his feet crossed
+against the box in front of him. Of all the lights on Broadway none
+glowed so comfortingly for McCartney as the tip of his cigarette.
+
+"My prayer is answered," he remarked softly to himself. "Thus do I
+escape the 'monotonous feet.' Had I only Isabeau I should have attained
+the height of human happiness--to have dined, to smoke, to ride on
+cushions under the starlight, to have six dollars, and not to know
+where one is going--a plethora of gifts. So I can spare Isabeau for the
+nonce. Doubtless she would not particularly care for the delights of
+locomotion."
+
+Thus Voltaire sailed northward, noticed only by solitary policemen and
+lonely wayfarers. Near Eightieth Street his eye caught the burning
+circle of a clock pointing at half-past nine, and he stretched himself
+and yawned again. They were passing the vestibule of an old church which
+contrasted quaintly with the more ambitious modern architecture of the
+neighborhood. From the interior floated out the gray unison of a hymn.
+McCartney swung himself to the ground and listened while the skeleton
+rattled up the avenue.
+
+"Egad!" thought he, "yon prayerful folk are not troubled with my
+disorder. Hell is for them what Jersey City is for me--a vital reality."
+
+A woman, her head shrouded in a worn gray shawl, approached timidly and
+stationed herself near the door. McCartney could see that she was
+weeping and that she had a baby in her arms. He grumbled a bit to
+himself at this business. It did not suit his fancy--his scheme. Having
+planned a continuation of this night of comedy so auspiciously begun, he
+disliked any incongruity.
+
+"Broke?" he inquired without rising. The woman nodded.
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+"Dan cleared out the flat and skipped yesterday afternoon. We've had
+nothing to eat--me and the kid--all day."
+
+"Let's look at your hands."
+
+The woman held out a thin, rough, red hand. McCartney gave it a glance
+and continued:
+
+"What's your kid's name?"
+
+"Catherine."
+
+McCartney gazed at her intently.
+
+"Look here, do you think those folks in there would help you?"
+
+"I don't know. It's better than the Island."
+
+"Don't try it," advised McCartney. "They'd think you were working some
+game on 'em. Leave this graft to me."
+
+The woman started back, half frightened, but McCartney's smile reassured
+her.
+
+"Here's yours on account." He handed her the five-dollar bill he had
+secured from the Germans. "_I_ know how. _You_ don't. _You_ need it. _I_
+don't." He waved aside her thanks. "Now go home, and, listen to me,
+don't take Dan back--he's no good."
+
+The woman hurried away, and with her departure silence fell again.
+
+McCartney seated himself upon the curb and lit still another cigarette,
+eying the door expectantly. Once he arose and dropped a piece of silver
+into the poorbox inside the porch, listening intently to the loud rattle
+it made in falling. It was clearly the sole occupant, for no answering
+clink came in response.
+
+    "Alas for the rarity
+    Of Christian charity
+      Under the sun,"
+
+softly murmured McCartney.
+
+"You will be lonely in there all by yourself, little one. Here's a
+brother to keep you company," said he, pushing in another.
+
+The hymn ceased and the congregation began to pass out. McCartney
+retired into the darkness of a corner, scrutinizing every face among the
+worshipers. Last of all came a little old man scuffling along with the
+aid of a cane. His snowy beard gave him an aspect singularly benign.
+McCartney laughed to himself.
+
+"Grandpapa, I trust we shall become better acquainted," he remarked
+under his breath, as he followed the old fellow down the street.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The loud vibrations of the bell in the deserted rooms of the floor below
+brought no immediate response, and instead of a brighter blaze of
+hospitality, the light in the hall was hurriedly extinguished. McCartney
+only pressed his thumb to the round receptacle of the bell the more
+assiduously, repeating the process at varying intervals until the light
+again illumined the door. A shadow hesitated upon the lace curtain, then
+the door itself was slowly, doubtfully opened, and the old man shuffled
+into the vestibule, peering suspiciously through the iron fretwork.
+McCartney, without going too close--he knew well the dread of human
+eyes, face to face--looked nonchalantly up and down the street,
+realizing that he must give his quarry time to regain the
+self-possession this midnight visit had shattered. After a pause the
+bolt was shot and the door opened upon its chain.
+
+"Was that you ringing? What do you want?"
+
+"Yes, it was I who rang. I trust you'll excuse the lateness of my call.
+It's imperative for me to see you."
+
+"Who are you? And what do you want to see me about?"
+
+"My name is Blake. Blake of the _Daily Dial_. It is a personal matter."
+
+"Don't know you. Don't know any Blake. Don't read the _Dial_. What is
+the personal matter?"
+
+"For God's sake, sir, let me speak with you! It's a matter of life and
+death. Don't deny me, sir. Hear me first."
+
+The little old man closed the door a couple of inches.
+
+"Want money, eh?"
+
+"Help, sir. Only a word of sympathy. I've a dying child----"
+
+"Can't you come round in the morning?"
+
+"It will be too late then. I implore you to listen to me for only a few
+moments. I've been waiting two hours upon the sidewalk for you to
+return, and it's too late for me to go elsewhere."
+
+The door opened sufficiently for the old man to thrust his face close to
+the crack and inspect his visitor from head to heels. Evidently
+McCartney's appearance and the manner of his speech had made an
+impression which was now struggling with prudence and common sense. The
+deacon, moreover, had a reputation to support. It would not do to turn
+an applicant away who might be in dire extremity--and who might go
+elsewhere and carry the tale with him.
+
+"Won't a bed ticket do you, eh? And come in the morning?"
+
+McCartney saw the vacillation in the other's mind.
+
+"I'm sorry, but I must see you now, if at all. To-morrow might be too
+late."
+
+The owner of the house closed the door, unslipped the chain and
+retreated inside the hall to the foot of the stairs, leaving the way
+free for his visitor to follow. McCartney entered, hat in hand, and
+shut the door behind him, catching at a glance the austerity of the
+furniture and walls. To him every inch of the Brussels carpet, the
+ponderous, polished walnut hatrack, the massive blue china stand with
+its lonely umbrella and stout bamboo cane, and the heavily framed oil
+copy of St. John spoke eloquently.
+
+"I must ask your pardon again, sir, for disturbing you. But a man of
+your character, as you have no doubt discovered, must suffer for the
+sake of his reputation. I----"
+
+McCartney swayed and seized a yellow-plush _portière_ for support. In a
+moment he had regained control of himself--apparently.
+
+"A touch of faintness. I haven't eaten since morning." He looked around
+for a chair. The old man made a show of concern.
+
+"Nothing to eat! Dear me! Well, well! Come in and sit down. Perhaps I
+can find something."
+
+Deacon Andrews led the way past the stairs and swung open the door to
+the dining room. It had a musty smell, just a hint of the prison pen at
+noon time, and McCartney shuddered. The old man disappeared into the
+darkness, struck a sulphur match, a fact noted by his guest, and with
+some difficulty lighted a gas jet in a grotesquely proportioned
+chandelier. The gas, which had blazed up, he turned down to half its
+original volume.
+
+"There, sit down," said he, pointing to a mahogany chair shrouded in a
+ticking cover, and settled himself in another on the opposite side of a
+great desert of table. McCartney did as he was bidden, mentally
+tabulating the additional facts offered to his observation by the
+remainder of the room. There was evident the same bare vastness as in
+the outer hall. Two more oils, one of mythological, the other of
+religious purport, balanced each other over the wings of a huge black
+carven sideboard. For the rest the yellow and brown wall paper repeated
+itself interminably into the shadow.
+
+"Feel better?" asked the deacon.
+
+"Yes, much," answered McCartney. "I'm used to going without food. The
+body can stand suffering better than the mind--and the heart."
+
+"Let's try and fix up the body first," remarked the deacon, opening a
+compartment beneath the sideboard. "Here, try some of these," and he
+placed a plate of water biscuits upon the table.
+
+McCartney essayed more or less successfully to eat one, while the old
+man retreated into the pantry and, after a hollow ringing of water upon
+an empty sink, returned with a thick tumbler of Croton.
+
+"Good, eh? Nothing like plain flour food and Adam's ale! Now, what is it
+you want to say? I must be getting to bed."
+
+McCartney hastily swallowed the last of the biscuit and leaned forward.
+
+"If I could be sure my dear wife and child could have this to-night, I
+should be happy indeed. Oh, sir, poverty can be borne--but to see those
+whom we love suffer and be powerless to help them--I can hardly address
+myself to you, sir. I have never asked for charity before. I'm a
+hard-working man. I had a good position, a little home of my own, and a
+wife and child whom I loved devotedly. I care for nothing else in the
+world. Then came the chance that ended so disastrously for us. I thought
+it was the tide in my affairs, you know, that might lead on to fortune.
+My wife was offered a position in a traveling company at sixteen
+dollars a week, and they agreed to take me with them as press agent at
+thirty-five--fifty dollars a week all told. Can you blame us?"
+
+"I don't approve of play acting," said the deacon.
+
+"Don't think the less of my wife for that. She meant it for the best."
+McCartney's face worked and he brushed his eyes with the back of his
+hand.
+
+"Look here, what's the use wasting time," interrupted the deacon. "How
+do I know who you are?"
+
+"You have only my word, sir, that is true."
+
+"What did you say you did for a living?"
+
+"I'm a reporter. I live by my pen, sir, and I write articles on various
+subjects for the newspapers. I have even written a very modest book. But
+the modern public has crude taste in literature," sighed McCartney.
+
+"Well, go on, now, and tell me about your trip or whatever it was," said
+the deacon.
+
+"I gave up for the time, as I said, the precarious livelihood of a space
+writer. We sublet our rooms. I spent what little money I had saved upon
+a costume for my wife, and we started out making one-night stands."
+
+"What was the name of your play?" inquired the deacon abruptly.
+
+"'The two Orphans,'" replied McCartney without hesitation. "We got along
+well enough until we reached Rochester, and there the show broke
+down--went to the wall. We were stranded, without a cent, in a
+theatrical boarding house. My wife was taken down with pneumonia and
+little Cathie----"
+
+"Little what?" asked the deacon.
+
+"Short for Catherine--caught the croup. We had nowhere to turn. I pawned
+my watch to pay our board bill. We were sleeping in a single room--the
+three of us. For days I tramped the streets of Rochester looking for
+some work to do, but I was absolutely friendless and could find nothing.
+My wife got a little better, but little Catherine seemed to grow worse.
+I pawned my wife's wedding ring, all my clothes but those I have on,
+even my baby's tiny little bracelet we bought for her on her second
+birthday--O God, how I suffered! We talked it all over and decided that
+as New York was the only place where I was known, I had better return
+and earn enough money to send for them as soon as I could. The manager
+let me use his pass back to the city. I reached here three days ago, but
+I have found no work of any sort. Some of the press boys have shared
+their meals with me, but for the moment I'm penniless. Meantime my wife
+is lying sick in a strange household and my little girl may be dying!"
+McCartney sobbed brokenly. "I'm at my last gasp. I've nowhere to sleep
+to-night. No money to buy breakfast. I can't even pay for a postage
+stamp to write to them!"
+
+"What street did you stay in at Rochester?"
+
+"1421 Maple Avenue," shot back McCartney. "I wish you could see my
+little Catherine--she's such a tiny ball of sunshine. Every morning she
+used to come and wake me, and say, 'Come, daddy, come to breaf-crust!'
+She couldn't pronounce the word right--I hope she never will. She called
+the little dog I gave her a fox 'terrial' dog. Some people say children
+are all alike. If they could only see _her_--if she's still alive. Why
+_I_ wouldn't give ten cents to live if I could only make sure Edith
+would have enough to get along on and give Catherine a decent education.
+I want that girl to grow up into a fine noble woman like her mother. And
+to think the last time I saw her she was lying in a stuffy hall bedroom
+in a third-class lodging house, her little forehead burning with fever,
+with my poor sick wife stretched beside her, fearing to move lest she
+should wake the child. She may be dead by this time, for I've had no
+work for three days, and I've been able to send them nothing--nothing!
+They may have been turned out into the streets, for the board bill was a
+week overdue when I left them. Don't you see it drives me nearly mad?
+I'm worse off a thousand times than if I stayed there with them.
+Sometimes I think there can't be any God, for if there was He'd never
+let me suffer so. And all for a little money--just because I can't pay
+the fare back to my sick wife and dying baby--my poor, sweet, little
+baby!"
+
+McCartney's voice broke and he buried his haggard face on his arms. For
+a moment or two neither spoke, then the deacon sighed deeply.
+
+"You do seem to have had hard luck," he remarked awkwardly. McCartney
+was still too overcome with emotion to reply.
+
+"I reckon I'll have to break my rule and help you without references. I
+don't believe in giving, as a rule, unless you know who you are giving
+to."
+
+He put his hand in his pocket.
+
+"But I'll do it this time." He placed two quarters upon the table.
+
+"There, half a dollar'll keep you nicely for a while. Of course, there's
+no use sendin' money to Rochester. Your landlady can't turn sick folks
+into the street, and if she does they can go to the hospital----"
+
+He paused, startled by the look on McCartney's face, for the latter had
+risen like an avenging angel, white and trembling. Pointing at the two
+harmless coins, he cried:
+
+"Is that your answer to the appeal of a starving man? Is that all your
+religion has done for you? Is that how you obey your Lord's teachings?
+'Cup of cold water' indeed! Cold water! Cold water! That's what you've
+got instead of blood; you withered old epidermis! You miserable,
+dried-up apology for a human being!" He paused for breath, sweeping the
+room with indignant scorn.
+
+"I know your kind! You old Christian Shylock! You bought those chromos
+at an auction! You took that old sideboard for a debt--yes, a debt at
+eighteen per cent interest. You don't pay a cent of taxes. You sing
+psalms and bag your trousers with kneeling on the platforms at prayer
+meetings and then loan out the church's money to yourself on worthless
+securities. You're too mean to keep a cat, for the cost of her milk. You
+read a penny newspaper and take books out of a circulating library. You
+put a petticoat on these chairs so your miserly little body won't wear
+out the seats."
+
+The lean vagabond half shouted his anathema, the pallor of his face and
+brow darkening red from the violence of his passion. It was the very
+ecstasy of anger. Before it the little man with the white hair shrank
+into himself, diminishing into his chair, seeking moral opportunity of
+escape.
+
+McCartney looked at the two coins contemptuously.
+
+"Bah!" he exclaimed in disgust. "Half a dollar for a dying child and a
+starving woman, to say nothing of a shelterless man!" He broke into a
+mirthless laugh. "Allow me to return your generous answer to my
+application for assistance. A code of morals of my own, which doubtless
+you would not appreciate, compels me to restore what is obviously ten
+times more precious to the donor than to the recipient."
+
+He filliped the two coins across the table into the lap of his host, who
+still crouched furtively with his head near the table.
+
+"It makes me sick to look at you! Who could gaze without disgust upon
+the spectacle of an ossified creature like yourself, creeping through
+bare, deserted old age toward a grave mortgaged to the devil? Ugh! It is
+the horridest spectacle I have seen in a month."
+
+"You're mad!" muttered the old man with hoarse fearfulness.
+
+"Sometimes, but not now!" retorted McCartney. "I'll hold my evening
+session for Misers a moment longer. I pity you, Lord Pinhead Penurious!
+I pity you that you should have gone through life, a small term of say
+sixty years, in such stupidity. Sixty years of grubbing, of weighing
+meat and adding figures, of watching the prices fools pay for stocks,
+and how many days of _life_? How many good deeds? Oh, marvelous lack of
+wit! What know you of real happiness? Let me introduce myself, since
+you're so blind. What do you think I am, my good old Noddy Numbskull?"
+
+"Crazy!" gasped the old man. "Do be quiet! Let me get you something more
+to eat."
+
+"A thief, at your service. Oh, don't start! I'll not carry away your
+mahogany sideboard nor your bronze chandelier. I steal only to keep
+myself in purse--to eat. You dig to add to the column of figures in your
+pass book. I walk among the gods. My brain is worth twenty gray bags
+like yours. I have thoughts and dreams in terms to you unintelligible. I
+can live more in a week than haply you have done in the course of your
+whole crawling existence. What do you know of the spirit? Behind your
+altar sits a calf of gold. You grovel before it and slip out at the
+bottom the shekels you drop in at the top. To you the moon will always
+be made of green cheese, that 'orbed maiden with white fire laden'! Your
+hands are callous from counting money, your brain is----"
+
+The old fellow arose. "Leave my house! Get out of here!"
+
+He was an absurd figure, not more than five feet high, in his black
+broadcloth suit and string tie, as he faced McCartney's blazing eyes,
+and the latter laughed at him.
+
+"I will fast enough. But you see I'm having a sensation--_living_. I'm
+doing good. Oh, yes, I am. If not to you, at least to myself. Do you
+think I'll ever forget little 'Cathie'? God! How I could have loved a
+real child! And I've only a cat." He laughed again. "I don't blame you
+for thinking me crazy--even you. Come, now, wasn't my picture of the
+phthisic wife and moaning child worth a place on the line--I mean,
+wasn't it good, eh? Worth more than two beggarly quarters? It gave me a
+thrill--what I need--it'll keep me alive for another twenty-four hours,
+without this." He held up a nickel-plated hypodermic syringe. It shone
+in the gaslight, and the old man started back and held out his hands.
+
+"Don't shoot!" he cried in senile terror.
+
+"Carrion!" cried McCartney. "Why do I waste my time on you? Why? Because
+I'm in your debt. I owe you little Catherine. I shall never forget her.
+And you, you--you are her foster father! God forbid!"
+
+The old man sat down resignedly at the extreme side of the table.
+
+"By God, I pity you!" exclaimed the lean man. "Do you hear that? _I_
+pity _you_--_I_!--a wretched, drugged, wilted, useless bundle of nerves
+twisted into the image of a man; a chap born with a silver spoon, with
+gifts, who tossed them all into the gutter--threw 'a pearl away richer
+than all his tribe'; a miserable creature who can't live without this"
+(he pressed the needles into his wrist), "and yet I wouldn't change with
+you! I'm more of a man than you. My very wants are sweeter than any joys
+your brutish senses can ever feel.
+
+    "O would there were a heaven to hear!
+    O would there were a hell to fear!
+    Dear Son of God, in mercy give
+    My soul to flames, but let me live!
+
+"You don't know what that means! Haven't the vaguest idea. You're a
+mummy. You'll be the same ten thousand years from now. I suppose you
+think I made it up, eh?
+
+    "I am discouraged by the street,
+    The pacing of monotonous feet.
+
+"That's all _you_ want. You couldn't understand anything else, and yet
+it's my torture, and my salvation!"
+
+The glow came back into McCartney's eyes and he repeated:
+
+"Yes, that picture of little Catherine was worth more than two quarters.
+It ought to have been good for twenty dollars. It's worth more than that
+to me."
+
+McCartney's voice had grown strong and clear.
+
+The old fellow looked at him sharply and changed his tone. He must get
+this madman out of his house. He must humor him.
+
+"Come, come, that's all right. Cheer up! Why, I had a little girl of my
+own once."
+
+McCartney pierced him through and through with swimming eyes.
+
+"And her memory was only worth two miserable quarters? You lie, you
+wretched old man, you lie!"
+
+The old fellow started back. The door banged. McCartney was gone.
+
+
+
+
+THE MAN HUNT
+
+
+I
+
+
+      _Note._--Action takes place about the year 1915.
+
+Ralston strode briskly up Fifth Avenue, conscious all about him of the
+electric pressure of War. It was six o'clock--the hour when the hard
+outlines of the tops of office buildings and the prosaic steeples of
+contemporary religion, flushed with rose, and "fretted with golden
+fire," melt with a glow of unreality into the darkening blue. Here and
+there in the eastern sky tiny points trembled elusively, and a molten
+crescent followed him along the housetops, its pale disk growing each
+instant brighter.
+
+Wheel traffic on the avenue, between the hours of nine and seven, had
+been suspended, and many pedestrians preferred the icy inequality of the
+street to the crowds upon the pavements. For the most part the movement
+was northward, meeting at the corners transverse streams of clerks and
+salesgirls jostling one another, arm in arm, down the side streets. Here
+and there could be seen an officer in service coat, with sword dangling
+beneath, and occasional knots of soldier boys in the uniform of the
+National Guard.
+
+A little lad with an air of vast importance ran just ahead of Ralston,
+unlocking the bases of the electric lights and, in some mysterious way,
+turning them on. To his intense gratification he had succeeded in
+distancing his fellow across the way by half a block. Above the shuffle
+of feet could be heard the cries of the newsmen, "Extra! Extra!
+President calls for twenty new regiments! Latest extra! Twelfth to the
+front." These, clutching huge bundles of papers to their breasts, hurled
+themselves against the tide of humanity, appearing from all directions
+and sweeping down like vultures upon any individual wayfarer so
+unfortunate as to have his hand momentarily in his pocket. Their bundles
+quickly disappeared. Then they would run panting to the corners where
+the paper wagons were in waiting. It was a scene full of inspiration to
+Ralston, but it impressed him that, after all, the crowd seemed
+primarily interested in its own affairs--its business, its cold ears,
+its suppers.
+
+For the newspapers the war had created a fierce, insatiable public maw.
+Circulations sprang by leaps into the millions. Extras followed one
+another by minutes. For the people in the shops it meant night work and
+longer hours; for society, something new to talk about; for the
+theaters, packed houses which roared at topical songs in which "war"
+rhymed with "bore," "rations" with "nations," "company" with "bump any,"
+"foes" with "toes," "sword" with "board," and gloried in "Eddie" Foy and
+"Jo" Weber dressed as major generals. "Light Cavalry" and "Dixie" had
+superseded all other selections upon the musical programmes, and special
+rows of seats were reserved for "officers in uniform." The bars were
+jammed, traveling men sat in more thickly serried ranks than usual in
+the hotel windows, and Slosson's Billiard Parlors were lined with
+standing spectators. The commercial life of the city boiled over. Only
+the brokers came home early.
+
+As Ralston entered Madison Square he found himself entangled in a dense
+throng wedged around an improvised scaffolding, upon which was displayed
+the electric-lighted bulletin of one of the big dailies. A man in a
+yellow-and-black-striped sweater was rapidly painting with a brush upon
+a blackboard in some white liquid the latest marching orders:
+
+     "_Twelfth Regiment leaves via Penn. R. R. to-morrow 7 A.M._"
+
+     "_Terrible Riots in Tokio._"
+
+     "_R. W. Ralston appointed Second Assistant Secretary of
+     the Navy._"
+
+As he fought his way through the crush he heard his name repeated on all
+sides, and a strange exaltation took possession of him. He had a curious
+desire to call out: "Yes. I'm Ralston! The Ralston up there! I'm he!
+That one! I'm Ralston!"
+
+He felt like a prince suddenly called from seclusion to rule his people.
+He was going to do things which these garlic-breathing folk would spell
+out and marvel at. How often his name would flash across the square or
+play duskily upon the curtains at the theaters, linked with generals and
+"fighting" admirals. He laughed with the joy of it, that he, the
+settled-down man of the world, the hunter, the manager of estates, the
+student of literature, the lover of poetry, was going to play the
+popular hero.
+
+He broke through the outer ring of the crowd and made for the park. A
+huge flag draped the porch of the Fifth Avenue Hotel. The flush in the
+west had faded to a streaky white and the stars had sprung from behind
+their curtains. A white beam of light played steadily from the tower of
+the Garden into the north. When it should swing to the south actual
+hostilities would have commenced. All the windows in the office
+buildings gleamed with activity. As he looked back he could see the man
+in the sweater erasing his name with a sponge, and his heart sank with
+momentary disappointment. Some new thing was coming over the wires hot
+with the fire of war. At the same moment he heard up the avenue the
+faint tapping of drums and the shriek of the fifes.
+
+A line of mounted police burst into the square. The throng in front of
+the bulletin board surged over to the park. Then with a clash of cymbals
+and a prolonged rattle from the drums a full band burst into "There'll
+be a Hot Time in the Old Town To-night." The regimental flags came into
+view. In the light of the stars, in the dying of the day, in the moment
+of his exaltation, Ralston recognized the colors of his old regiment.
+Had he chosen he might have been marching at the head of his company
+even then. The crowd, cheering, forced him to the curb and into the
+street. With brimming eyes he doffed his hat and saluted the colors.
+
+As he did so a sudden wild yell went up from the multitude. From one
+side of the square to the other reigned pandemonium. The very sound of
+the band was drowned in the uproar. From the top of the Flatiron
+Building a stream of rockets broke into the sky, and with a single
+movement the throng turned and gazed tensely at the Garden Tower, as the
+white shaft of light slowly swung into the south.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+The little white house on East Twenty-fifth Street was ablaze with light
+as Ralston eagerly mounted the low stoop and pressed the bell. The
+visitor knocked the slush from his overshoes, slapped the left pocket of
+his coat as if to make certain that something was still safely there,
+stepped quickly across the threshold when the butler opened the door,
+handed the man his hat, threw off his fur coat upon an ebony chair, and
+only paused, and that but for a moment, at the entrance of the
+drawing-room. He was a tall, clean-built, brisk young man, thoroughly
+American in type, with an alert face, which, if not handsome, was
+nevertheless agreeable and attractive--a man, in a word, whom one would
+not hesitate to address upon the street, provided the question was
+pertinent and the information essential.
+
+It was clear from his manner that he was no stranger, but to-day there
+were more women than usual at Miss Evarts's Monday afternoon, and the
+lights and chatter seemed a bit confusing to one whose mind was charged
+with the importance of a newly acquired responsibility. Miss Evarts was
+an old friend of his mother's, who, somewhat to his amused annoyance,
+took it upon herself to assume toward him a sort of sisterly attitude,
+which allowed her the privileges of relationship without prejudice to a
+certain degree of elderly sentiment. Attendance upon her selectly
+Bohemian gatherings was a duty which he performed when in town, with a
+regularity attributable less to a regard for Miss Evarts herself than to
+the fact that Ellen Ferguson was usually to be found there presiding
+over the tea table and ready for a brisk walk uptown afterwards.
+
+"Ha! There he is now!" exclaimed a middle-aged man, with iron-gray hair
+and pointed mustaches, as the newcomer parted the _portières_.
+
+The group about the warrior turned with one accord and stared, at
+present teacups, in his direction.
+
+"Good afternoon, ladies and soldier," said Ralston. "I am the
+torchbearer of war. Firing has begun. The searchlight on the Garden is
+leveled south--like the lance of the horseman on the tower in Irving's
+'Legend of the Arabian Astrologer.'"
+
+The colonel set down his cup and pulled his mustaches with a heavy
+frown. He took pains to let it be seen that he was overcome with
+conflicting emotions--that stern duty summoned him from home and dear
+ones, but that his heart was throbbing to avenge his country's honor.
+They all looked toward him as if expecting a few appropriate remarks.
+The colonel's hands trembled, the veins upon his forehead swelled, and
+he seemed about to speak. Then he did.
+
+"You don't say!" he remarked.
+
+There was a sigh of disappointment from the ladies, and in the hiatus
+which followed Miss Evarts shook hands with Ralston and introduced him
+to the others as "the newly appointed secretary, you know." Which, or
+what of, she did not disclose.
+
+"I always thought Ralston was cast for a topliner," continued the
+hostess, as he modestly evaded their congratulations.
+
+"It's about time I left the chorus," answered her guest, adapting his
+language to Miss Evarts's open predilection for the footlights.
+
+"Kicked your way up?" inquired, in a hoarse voice, a stout lady of stage
+traditions, who was clad in a wall-paper effect of gay brocade.
+
+"My dear Mrs. Vokes, don't judge everybody by your own professional
+experience," remarked a young lady in brown, whose aquiline features
+were accounted "perfectly lovely" by a large suburban, theater-going
+public.
+
+"Come! Come!" interrupted Miss Evarts loudly. "Miss Warren, order
+yourself more humbly before your betters."
+
+The two popular favorites glared at one another defiantly.
+
+"Well, in any event, Colonel Duer, he'll soon be giving you your sealed
+orders," said Miss Evarts, thus disposing of a situation which might
+have become awkward.
+
+"Not unless the colonel gets a transfer. I'm steering the navy, not the
+army," laughed Ralston.
+
+"The man behind!" murmured Mrs. Vokes.
+
+Ralston bowed. "Very good, Mrs. Vokes," said he. "Yes, too far behind!"
+
+"The navy, of course," Miss Evarts corrected herself, letting fall a
+lump of sugar and following it with an attenuated rivulet of cream.
+"Just a drop, as usual?"
+
+"Did you read the President's proclamation?" asked a young girl in a
+gray picture hat. "Wasn't it splendid?"
+
+"Mr. Ralston will probably write the next one," interjected another.
+
+"No, only correct the proof," amended the hostess.
+
+"And point it with 'Maxims'?" ventured the Vokes, now restored to
+complete good humor.
+
+"Very sweet of you, Mrs. Vokes," said Ralston, recognizing the
+artificial dove of theatrical peace.
+
+"You leave very soon, don't you, colonel?" asked Miss Evarts. "Is your
+kit-bag ready?"
+
+"Yes, we leave by the Pennsylvania, at seven o'clock. The armory's a
+perfect bedlam. It looks as if every man in New York had collected all
+his worldly goods and chattels and dumped them on the tan bark," replied
+the colonel.
+
+"The confusion must be something delightful. I suppose you have plenty
+of canned peaches?" inquired the brown girl innocently. "I understand
+that they are the staple food of heroes."
+
+"They're certainly an indispensable stage property," admitted the
+colonel with something of an effort, recalling various evaporated
+valiants of the Cuban campaign.
+
+During this profound discussion Ralston's eyes had been wandering from
+group to group, and at this moment the object of their search herself
+joined the party upon the other side of the table.
+
+"Have another cup of tea, Ellen," urged Miss Evarts.
+
+"I can't, positively, Aunt Bess," responded the girl; "I must go
+presently."
+
+"How are things?" said the girl in brown, looking significantly at the
+colonel. "Have all your officers turned up?"
+
+"Ye-es," he replied. "Constructively."
+
+"Constructively?" persisted his inquisitor. "What a queer way to be
+present! Rather bad for an officer in a swell regiment to be dilatory,
+isn't it?"
+
+"Every man has shown up," replied the rather nettled veteran, "except
+one, and he'll be along, all right."
+
+"Oh, of course!" murmured the girl. "By the way, have you seen John
+Steadman? My cousin Fred, you know, is an officer in the same company,
+and he said last night at dinner that he hadn't seen him at the armory.
+Some one was mean enough to suggest that these ferocious military men
+aren't always 'warlike.'"
+
+"There are no tin soldiers in my regiment," answered the colonel
+severely, turning for reënforcement to Mrs. Vokes.
+
+Ellen Ferguson bit her lip, flashed a glance at the girl in brown and
+pulling her chinchilla boa into place departed with her nose in the air
+toward the next room. She paused for a moment to read the faded
+inscription, framed and hanging beneath an old cavalry saber on the
+opposite wall, then turning toward Ralston, raised her eyebrows
+inquiringly as if to ask how long he was going to occupy himself with
+fat old ladies and cheap actresses, and vanished. But the brown girl
+turned her guns on Ralston again before he could get away.
+
+"I didn't know you had any drag at Washington," she remarked. "Who have
+you got on your staff--a senator or just a common garden M.C.?"
+
+"Neither," he answered politely. "I don't know either of our senators,
+and I couldn't name a single congressman from the State."
+
+"And then you have been away so long," added Miss Evarts. "Why, it's
+eight months, isn't it? If you ever had any pull I should think it would
+have faded away long ago."
+
+"I was certainly the most surprised of all," said Ralston. "I haven't a
+blessed qualification for the job. I suppose the fact that I've just
+come from the Philippines and have seen something of the Asiatic
+Squadron may have had a little to do with it."
+
+"For the navy as against the army, perhaps," said the brown girl. "But
+it doesn't explain your getting an appointment in the first place. You
+must be a politician in sheep's clothing."
+
+"Well, to be perfectly frank," answered Ralston, seeing that he was in
+for it, "a year ago last September, when I was shooting out at Jackson's
+Hole, I ran across the President and saw something of him for a week or
+so. I was able to help him in a matter of no importance, and you know he
+isn't the kind that forgets anything. He's a good fellow!"
+
+"Just like him," commented the young lady. "Now, why didn't he give it
+to my brother George, who got nervous prostration making stump speeches
+for him at the last election?"
+
+"Oh, I admit it's entirely undeserved, but I must plead guilty to being
+glad of a branch office in the White House and of a chance to be one of
+the boys in the conning tower," answered Ralston.
+
+"Well, you're only an assistant secretary, anyway," said the girl. "I'm
+green with jealousy as it is. But aren't you sorry not to be going with
+your old company?"
+
+"Don't!" he exclaimed. "You make me feel as if I belonged to the Home
+Guard. Honestly, I'd rather be back with the regiment, but, you see, I
+had served my five years ages before you were born. I ought to give the
+younger fellows a chance."
+
+"I see," said the girl. "When do you go?"
+
+"To-morrow morning at ten. I reach Washington in time to dine at the
+White House."
+
+Several of the women arose and the group about the table gradually
+drifted away. The crowd was thinning out. Ralston, knowing very well
+that Ellen would be waiting for him, mumbled something to Miss Evarts
+and escaped.
+
+"Well!" he exclaimed, entering the other room, and seizing her hands as
+she stood with her back to the fire. "Pretty good, isn't it?"
+
+"I should say it was!" she cried delightedly. "Why, Dick, it's the
+chance of your life. If you make good only a little bit you may get
+anywhere. It's perfectly splendid! I'm so glad!"
+
+Genuine pleasure shone in her eyes. Ralston's heart beat faster. Of
+course she cared for him. She must care for him. There was a tide in the
+affairs of men which, taken at the flood-- He stepped closer and bent
+his head toward hers.
+
+"Nell--" he began.
+
+But she apparently was not listening, and the glad look had quickly
+given place to another. He paused, wondering at the change. Her dark
+eyes, with their Oriental, upturned corners, were half veiled and her
+high-arched brows were contracted in a frown. He drew back and pulled
+out his cigarette case.
+
+"Dick," she cried suddenly, "I want to tell you something! I'm sorry to
+bother you when you're so happy, and I'm so proud of you, but I'm
+terribly worried about something."
+
+"Dear! Dear!" laughed Ralston, striking a match and seeing that his
+opportunity had somehow vanished. "What's up? Been losing at bridge?"
+
+She smiled faintly.
+
+"Don't make fun of me," she replied. "No, I'm really bothered." She put
+her hand to her forehead and pushed back her hair. "I'm afraid one of my
+friends isn't-- Oh, I don't know how to explain it!"
+
+A momentary suspicion flashed across his mind.
+
+"Do you think I ought to go to the front?" he asked, relieved.
+
+She gave a little laugh.
+
+"You? What a goose! Of course not!"
+
+Ralston experienced a shock of disappointment.
+
+"What is it, then?"
+
+"Dick," said she in quick, subdued tones, "I can't help speaking about
+it, and you're the best friend I've got. It's about John."
+
+Ralston moved uneasily.
+
+"John Steadman?"
+
+"We're old friends, you know."
+
+"Yes, I remember."
+
+"I don't suppose you've seen him?"
+
+"Not since I came back. Before that, often."
+
+Ellen again passed her hand wearily across her forehead and turned
+abruptly away from the fire. The action was unconscious, involuntary. He
+had never associated Ellen with Steadman.
+
+"What is it?" he asked sympathetically.
+
+"Oh, nothing definite. Only he's been a little irregular of late. I
+haven't seen him for over a week. I don't think anybody has."
+
+"He's a captain in the Twelfth, isn't he?"
+
+"Yes. O Dick! You heard what that spiteful Warren girl said about tin
+soldiers?"
+
+"Of course. Nonsense!"
+
+"I can't help it. It's _Honor_, you know!"
+
+"You mean you think he mayn't turn up?"
+
+"I can't--I won't think that."
+
+"But he hasn't?--and they're beginning to talk?"
+
+"You heard for yourself."
+
+"Oh, _that_!"
+
+"Some people never live down less."
+
+"But if he does turn up, why there's an end to it," he said.
+
+"But why isn't he here?" she cried.
+
+"How do I know? He may be on a business trip."
+
+"Of course I thought of that," she replied.
+
+"Oh, he'll be there, all right, when the time comes."
+
+She began arranging her furs. One thing Ralston always admired about her
+was her care in dress. He did not know how few clothes she really had.
+She seemed always elegantly, if not luxuriously, clad.
+
+They strolled slowly toward the door.
+
+"Well," he said, "I'm awfully sorry you're upset. I'm sure he'll turn up
+all right. A man couldn't afford not to. Don't worry. If there was
+anything that I could do, no matter what, you know I'd be glad to do it
+for your sake, Ellen."
+
+"Thank you, Dick. I know that," she answered.
+
+"Well, good-by," said he. "Say good night to Miss Evarts for me, will
+you? I've got to run. I'm late for dinner as it is."
+
+She gave him her hand and he held it for a moment. As he did so he
+looked her full in the face.
+
+"Ellen," said he, "tell me something. Do you care about--Steadman?"
+
+She turned her head slightly from him before replying. Then she looked
+back again and answered hesitatingly:
+
+"I think--I care."
+
+As she spoke the words she withdrew her hand. Then she flushed and her
+eyes brightened.
+
+"Dick," she said slowly, in a voice that trembled a little, "I _know_ I
+care."
+
+The _portières_ fell behind him. Mechanically he put on his overcoat and
+left the house, pausing for a moment at the top of the steps. A little
+smile hovered on his lips, but his eyes were very sad.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+Ralston walked as far as the Twenty-eighth Street subway station, where
+he caught a local for Forty-second Street. Thence he hurried to
+Delmonico's. It was now seven o'clock, and already the restaurant was
+nearly full.
+
+"Philip, have you seen Mr. Scott?" he asked of the doorman.
+
+"In the palm room, Mr. Ralston," answered the servant at once. "The head
+waiter told me to say that your dinner was ready."
+
+Ralston checked his coat, and soon caught sight of his newly engaged
+private secretary at a small table in a corner. They shook hands, and
+Scott pointed to a pile of letters and papers beside him.
+
+"This stuff came while you were out. I thought I'd better bring it along
+to save time."
+
+"Good!" commented Ralston. "What is most of it?"
+
+"Eight letters of congratulation, which I listed. A long letter from
+some old lady friend of yours when you were in Exeter----"
+
+"I know--Mrs. Gorringe."
+
+"Then that power of attorney from Bee, Single & Quick, that you
+expected. Oh, I don't know--a lot of circulars: 'Red Cross,' 'Special
+Relief,' 'Society for Assisting Wives and Children of Enlisted Men.'"
+
+"Send 'em twenty-five apiece."
+
+Mr. Scott took out his notebook and made an entry.
+
+"How about that power of attorney?"
+
+"It seemed all right. I don't know. We never had anything just like it
+in the law school."
+
+Ralston burst out laughing.
+
+"How old are you, Jim?"
+
+"Twenty-five."
+
+"Well, just wait ten years, and if you ever see a legal paper that looks
+like anything but a page out of Doomsday call my attention to it, will
+you?"
+
+"Well, it's got a seal, anyway."
+
+"How about those antelope heads from Livingston that were being
+mounted?"
+
+"Wilcox telephoned they'd be shipped to-morrow."
+
+By this time the soup had arrived, and both fell to with appetites born
+of a hard day's labor. The waiters were apparently serving "extras" with
+every course, and more than half the men at the tables were in uniform.
+Flags hung everywhere, and at each plate a _papier-maché_ cannon held
+the customary bonbons. In the extreme eastern corner the Hungarians were
+playing "Dixie," "Old Kentucky Home," "Maryland," "Star-Spangled
+Banner," "Suwanee River," "A Hot Time," and other patriotic airs, one
+after the other, the conclusion of each being marked by loud applause
+from all sides.
+
+"Isn't it great!" exclaimed Scott. "You know my governor thinks my going
+down with you is out of sight. He'd hate to have me enlist. Of course,
+I'd rather really, but in the long run I fancy there'll be more doin'
+right in Washington."
+
+"You'll be busy, all right," said Ralston. "Has Thompson packed all the
+trunks?"
+
+"Sure; ages ago."
+
+"And did you buy the tickets?"
+
+Scott produced the tickets with obvious pride.
+
+"Well, you're satisfactory so far. By the way, what are you going to do
+to-night?"
+
+"Mrs. Patterson's theater party--'The Martial Maid.'"
+
+"And you skipped the dinner?"
+
+"To dine with my chief. Orders, you know. Duty before pleasure."
+
+"Good boy!" said Ralston. "How did you fix it?"
+
+"Why, I spoke to Ellen and she managed it for me. Of course, if it was
+for you anything would go with her. Isn't she a stunner?"
+
+"You spoke to Ellen, did you? Well, you have a confidence born of your
+newly acquired elevation. I saw her at Miss Evarts's this afternoon. She
+didn't mention you, however."
+
+"Do you know a fellow named Steadman?" continued Scott. "Good-looking
+chap, but a 'weak sister,' I think."
+
+"Yes, I know him. Why?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. He's around with her a good deal."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, I hate to see a girl like that throw herself away, that's all,"
+burst out the secretary with energy.
+
+"Why, Steadman used to be a decent fellow enough," said Ralston,
+thinking rapidly. "Anything the matter with him that you know of?"
+
+"He bats an awful lot."
+
+"Something new?"
+
+"Yes; within six months. Uncle died and left him a lot of loose change.
+He's been blowing it in."
+
+"How? Of course, it's on the quiet?"
+
+"Oh, yes! He's at church every Sunday."
+
+"Yesterday?"
+
+"No. I meant metaphorically."
+
+By eight o'clock dinner had been entirely served, and Scott had received
+all his instructions.
+
+"Guess I'll step over to the Pattersons' now for a short cigar," he
+remarked, "and pick up the crowd. See you to-morrow at eight-thirty."
+
+"Good night. Have a good time," called Ralston after him, as the
+youthful figure passed out. He was very fond of Scott. He wondered if
+what the boy had said about Steadman was true. A fellow could go down a
+lot in six months, or in less. Steadman had always had a weakness.
+Ralston had never liked him, though forced to be in his company on many
+occasions.
+
+"I'll smoke at the room," he thought, and paid his bill. "I'm going off
+to Washington, William, so I'd better settle," he remarked to the old
+waiter.
+
+From Delmonico's he crossed the avenue, walked north for two blocks, and
+turned into his rooms, which were situated in a small, new bachelor
+apartment house. He found everything in confusion and Thompson hard at
+work packing books.
+
+He shed his frock coat for a smoking jacket, and took his seat at a low
+desk with a drop light, having brought his letters with him from the
+restaurant. First he rapidly answered his notes of congratulation,
+following a set form, then hastily read the power of attorney from his
+lawyers, and signed it, after which he O. K.'d a pile of bills, gave
+some instructions to Thompson about his library, wrote a long letter to
+his mother, who was spending the winter in Italy, then took up the
+letter from the "old lady in Exeter," and threw himself back into a
+chair before the fire.
+
+It was eighteen years since he had seen her, the woman who had kept the
+boarding house in which he had lived at school--who had mended his
+clothes, lent him small sums of money, brought him his meals when sick,
+served him for a temporary mother, lied for him when necessary, and been
+rewarded with the real affection of her young lodger. This was the first
+letter she had ever written him. In the left-hand corner of the white,
+blue-lined paper was an embossed reproduction of the State House in
+Boston, and the shaking penmanship filled every inch of space and ran
+back to the front page again.
+
+      EXETER, March 5, 19--.
+
+      DEAR RICHARD
+
+      You must forgive an old woman calling you Richard, who
+      worked so hard for you when you was a boy. You must be
+      quite a man by this time to be made Secretary of the
+      Navy as I was told by Deacon Stillwater. I am proud of
+      you, Richard, and so is everybody here, that one of my
+      boys should rise so high, whom I never thought of
+      except throwing apples at Mrs. Abbott's goat and
+      playing baseball in the middle of the street. I was
+      hoping to hear from you that you had married some
+      lovely young lady in New York. Don't put it off too
+      long. If you are not going to fight you would not even
+      have to wait until after the war. I am glad you are
+      not going to fight and yet will serve the country.
+      Think how long it is since I lost my dear husband at
+      Antietam--nearly fifty years. I am an old woman,
+      Richard, and shall not live long. I am going to leave
+      you my chest of drawers with brass handles you used to
+      like--you remember you used to keep chestnuts in the
+      bottom. Be a good boy. If you can spare the time from
+      your duties I shall be pleased to hear from you.
+
+      Your old friend,
+
+      SARAH GORRINGE.
+
+"Dear old soul!" he sighed, staring into the fire. "What a brute I am
+never to have written to her after all she did for me. The good woman's
+reward!"
+
+For nearly a half hour he sat thinking of his life at Exeter and of the
+changes time had wrought in his existence. Then he arose, carefully
+selected some writing materials, and wrote for some time without
+finishing his letter. Once he got up, crossed to the fire and studied
+for several minutes a photograph which stood on the mantel, after which
+he took a few strides around the room and returned to his task.
+
+Twenty minutes later he laid down his pen, and taking the pile of
+manuscript in his lap read it over carefully. The last paragraph he
+reread several times. Then he placed the whole thing in an envelope and
+addressed it--to Exeter, New Hampshire. The little clock on the mantel
+pointed to half-past nine as he took off his smoking jacket and called
+for his coat and hat. He was tired--very tired--but something made him
+restless.
+
+"I'm going to the club for a while," he said to his valet. "I'll be back
+in half an hour. Call a hansom."
+
+He waited with his back to the fire, still smoking.
+
+"Second Assistant Secretary to the Navy!" he muttered. "Not bad for
+thirty-four! . . . But what does it amount to? . . . What does anything
+amount to? . . . Who really cares? . . . It's like making the 'varsity
+or your senior society. . . . You always think there's some one--or that
+there may be some one . . ."
+
+"Cab's here, sir," said his man.
+
+Ralston gathered up the mail and started down the stairs. At the curb
+stood a hansom, the driver cloaked in a heavy waterproof. A fine rain
+had begun to fall, making the light from a nearby street lamp seem dim
+and uncertain. As Ralston stepped toward the lamp-post to mail his
+letters he observed a diminutive messenger boy vainly trying to decipher
+the address upon a telegram, which he was holding to the light. Ralston
+pushed the letters into the box and closed it with a slam.
+
+"Does Mr. Ralston live here?" asked the boy.
+
+"Right here!" answered Ralston, holding out his hand.
+
+"Please sign."
+
+He scrawled an apology for a signature upon the damp page of the book
+and tore the end off the envelope. Then, like the boy, he held the
+yellow paper to the light. It bore but nine words:
+
+      Please try to find John for my sake.--E.
+
+He read the words several times and repeated them aloud, as if in doubt
+as to their meaning. "Find Steadman!" Where? Find him! How? Why? . . .
+
+The messenger boy had started away, whistling shrilly "Marching Through
+Georgia." Ralston wrinkled his forehead. Here was irony of Fate for you!
+She called upon him to save the honor of this man, whom he hardly knew,
+for whom he cared not a whit, whom by this time he had begun to hate, to
+save him--for her. He stood motionless in the rain, the telegram hanging
+limply from his fingers. He had not seen Steadman for nine months. Knew
+practically nothing of him except from clubroom gossip. And Ellen asked
+him to find the man for her, in the seething life of the city--find him
+in such a way that, wherever found, his honor would be safe, find him
+secretly, surely, and place him upon his feet at the head of his company
+before the next morning at seven o'clock. He crumpled the paper into
+his pocket and turned to the waiting driver.
+
+"Just drive down the avenue slowly."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+He climbed in and threw himself back upon the seat.
+
+"Something of a large order, my dear young lady," he muttered. "If your
+attractive friend is to be found, it must be done without publicity. It
+would be a great deal worse to find him where he ought not to be, than
+not to find him at all. There are many cycles in New York's Inferno. If
+it were not for that, my old friend Inspector Donahue could send out a
+general alarm and turn him up before daylight. But that won't--no, that
+won't do. He's got to be located on the quiet and put into shape to
+march respectably off with his company.
+
+"By George!" he exclaimed aloud, "only a woman would think of asking a
+chap to set out on such a wild-goose chase! But then I don't suppose she
+realizes. She thinks he's playing billiards at the club, or something
+like that, maybe!" He set his teeth.
+
+"If she only knew!" he muttered. "Why didn't I speak a little sooner!"
+
+"She _thought_ she cared. . . . She _knew_ she cared!" he whispered to
+himself. Then he laughed rather grimly.
+
+And one who had happened to glance into the cab at that moment, as it
+passed a lamp, would have seen the gaunt face of a man smiling behind
+the tip of a cigar. Farther down the avenue another would have seen the
+same face without the cigar--without the smile.
+
+"Jerry's!" said Ralston sharply, through the manhole.
+
+The driver jerked the reins, wheeled his horse round abruptly, and
+started on a brisk trot through Forty-fourth Street. Then turning
+quickly down Sixth Avenue, he brought the hansom to a sudden stop in
+front of a restaurant whose electric lights flared valiantly into the
+rain and mist.
+
+There were three doors, but Ralston, without pausing, passed into the
+hostelry through the middle one. The cabman waited without orders, well
+aware that those who frequent Jerry's presumably desire the means of
+transportation therefrom. A bar ranged opposite an oyster counter gave a
+narrow passage to the dining room. At the end of the bar was a cashier's
+desk.
+
+The after-theater crowd had not yet arrived, it was too late for dinner
+guests, and few tables were occupied. Ralston, however, had not expected
+to find Steadman there. As he reached the desk a well-built, red-cheeked
+Irishman stepped forward.
+
+"How are you, Mr. Ralston? Congratulations!"
+
+Our friend grasped the hand of the other cordially.
+
+"How are you, Jerry?"
+
+"You're a bit of a stranger."
+
+"Yes. Something like a year. Been out looking over the Philippines."
+
+"Not so good as the little old place?"
+
+"I should say not. By the way, sit down over here a minute. I want to
+speak with you."
+
+Jerry led the way to the rear of the restaurant and offered Ralston a
+chair. Then he drew up across the table, while the latter put him a few
+brief questions.
+
+"Well, that's what I wanted," said Ralston, as they arose. "Yes, I
+remember now, he used to know her. I'll try it!"
+
+"I'm afraid it's the only tip I can give you, Mr. Ralston."
+
+"Thank you very much, Jerry. Remember, now. I haven't seen you--no
+matter what happens."
+
+"Not a word!"
+
+"Good night."
+
+"Good night, sir."
+
+Ralston crossed the sidewalk and sprang into the cab.
+
+"The Moonshine--stage," said he shortly.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+The party of which Ellen Ferguson was a member did not leave Sherry's
+until a comparatively late hour, and, while she was in no mood for
+gayety, anything which could fill the hours pending news of Steadman was
+a relief. She had found pleasure in talking to Jim Scott, that
+good-natured, immature, and loyal son of old Harvard, who had hardly
+opened his mouth the entire evening save in eulogy of his new chief.
+From the time they had left the house in the omnibus to the moment she
+had been deposited at her apartments he had not ceased his pæan of
+praise. Ralston was a "corker," a "crackajack," it was a great thing to
+be going to work with a man like that--a fellow who had done things, not
+one of your sit-in-the-club-window-and-have-a-little-drink style of
+chappies (this with a significant glance at a certain Mr. Teadle who
+made one of the party), but one who could use a rifle or write a book
+with equal skill.
+
+Mr. Teadle saw no particular reason for Ralston's appointment? Jim
+supposed sarcastically that the only proper candidate _would_ have been
+an absinthe-drinking scribbler of anæmic little poems. For a short time
+it looked as if Jim were going to utilize Mr. Teadle as a mop, until
+Ellen came to the rescue by entering into a violent flirtation with the
+new secretary, who furtively wondered if she really cared for that
+Steadman fellow, after all. Miss Ferguson, on her side, like the boy
+immensely, but did not stop to analyze her reasons. His freshness and
+enthusiasm were enough to account for the attraction.
+
+The Moonshine Theater had suggested a ludicrous parody of Brussels on
+the eve of Waterloo, and Scott had loudly regretted that his job did not
+carry a uniform with it. There were whole rows of them in the orchestra
+and the gallery. For a finale the chorus sang the "Star-Spangled
+Banner"--all up, of course, with the whole house cheering and waving
+hats and handkerchiefs. Tears were in Ellen's eyes as the party made
+their way out of the box, along the side of the house, to the entrance
+where the omnibus was waiting. They had piled in, and then, just as they
+had started--_Ralston!_
+
+How strange that she should cross him in this fashion at such an hour!
+Could he have received her message? Perhaps, even now, a yellow slip was
+lying beneath her door marked: "Party not found." But if not on her
+mission, what was he doing at the stage entrance of the Moonshine?
+
+All through the supper at Sherry's, with its martial airs, its patriotic
+ices and confections, its wine and laughter, she was tormented by
+uncertainty. If he had not received the message! Time was flying,
+Steadman was not being sought for, Ralston was--dallying.
+
+Her maid removed her cloak and helped her undo her dress.
+
+"Has anything come for me?"
+
+"No, miss."
+
+"Telephone to the Western Union office and ask if my telegram was
+delivered."
+
+The maid disappeared, returning presently with the information that it
+had been receipted for at nine-thirty o'clock. With a warm wave of
+relief flooding her heart Ellen slipped on a light wrapper, and threw
+herself into an armchair before the sea-coal fire.
+
+[Illustration: "She studied the faces alternately."]
+
+"You need not wait, Elise. I shall sit up and read."
+
+"Very well, miss. Good night."
+
+"Good night," answered her mistress dreamily.
+
+Outside the rain swept steadily against the glass with a soft, silting
+sound. From time to time drops fell down the chimney and hissed for a
+moment ere they vanished black splotches upon the vermilion coals.
+Behind her an electric lamp of bronze, with an opaque shade, threw a dim
+light over her shoulder and lit up the masses of her loosened hair.
+
+Presently she arose slowly and went into an adjoining room, returning
+with a large photograph in either hand. They were framed alike. Placing
+them side by side upon the rug before her, she locked her hands across
+her knee, and studied the faces alternately. One was of a young
+man--almost a boy--with a narrow, high-bred face, dark eyes, sallow,
+with a mouth curved like a woman's. The other was Dick Ralston, taken
+about five years before, although the high cheekbones, the gaunt energy,
+the mature thoughtfulness suggested a man much older. That she cared for
+Steadman there was no doubt in her own mind. Had she refused to admit it
+definitely heretofore, the fact that he was now on the verge of social
+and moral annihilation made it no longer a matter of question. She felt
+that Steadman's honor was at this moment the most vital thing in her
+existence. He had thrown it at her feet after a long and romantic
+wooing. Had laid bare his entire past. She was convinced that he loved
+her. But at the crucial moment she had hesitated, had not responded in
+quite the way she had probably given him reason to expect. She had
+asked for time for reflection, and could give no adequate explanation in
+answer to his imperative "Why?" When later he had renewed his suit she
+had again forced a postponement, and he had departed, annoyed and
+perplexed.
+
+It was at this juncture that the money had dropped into his hands and he
+had disappeared. Where was he? On a shooting trip? He frankly admitted
+caring nothing for sport or hunting. It was not the season for travel,
+and his name was not upon the sailing lists. Her instinct told her that
+somewhere in the great city Steadman, oblivious to the call of duty, was
+living the life from which her influence had called him for a time,
+reckless of consequences, disregardful of the beckoning finger of
+opportunity. She knew also that this was his last chance.
+
+She realized that she could never marry Steadman disgraced, yet she felt
+now that she loved him, and that could she see him and watch him start
+for the front with his regiment, she would promise him what he had
+asked.
+
+She took Ralston's picture in her hand and held it to the light. It
+trembled a little. She knew she could have cared for him--but he was so
+stern, so strong, so capable. He had never treated her save as a sort of
+younger sister. She had often wondered if he cared or could care for any
+woman. With her he was always the same--kindly, sympathetic, obliging,
+thoughtful. What must he think of her, sending him forth in the dead of
+night to search the city for a man whom he scarcely knew? Her cheeks
+burned at the thought of what she had done.
+
+She had hardly known what she was asking when she had sent the message.
+It had been done hurriedly, as she was leaving for the Pattersons', on
+the impulse of a moment when she felt that, unless John Steadman could
+be found, life would cease for her to be worth living--sent in a sort
+of hysteria in which she instinctively turned to the one man in all the
+world upon whom she could call for any service she might ask. Dear old
+Dick! How tired he had looked in the rain! He might be up all night
+looking for Steadman, and then not find him! And he was to leave for
+Washington to-morrow.
+
+She went to the window, against which the rain drove in a fine shower,
+blurring the myriad lights below her that marched in long, straight
+lines to north, south, and east. On the Tower the searchlight still
+burned steadily. She shivered and went back to the fire. Then she laid
+one of the pictures gently against her cheek.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+The Moonshine Theater blazes its defiance into the night from a gleaming
+Broadway promontory, whose cape divides the restless human tide that
+rises to its neap every evening about eleven and falls to its ebb in the
+neighborhood of two or three in the morning. Through its arched portals
+one might drive a hansom cab, and tradition says that the feat has been
+accomplished.
+
+Here Mrs. Vokes, under the alias of "Hélène DeLacy," first minced her
+way into popularity--but that was in the days of crinoline. The youths
+who loitered about its iron-bound stage entrance are gray-headed men
+to-day, those of them who are still alive. Only old Vincent remains, as
+rugged as a granite cliff, and as impervious to persuasion, bribery, or
+anger. "I'm sorry, gents, but it's against my orders," is said as
+conclusively to-night as it was twenty years ago. He got as far as:
+
+"I'm sorry, sir, but it's against--" then changed it to a wondering:
+"Bless my soul, Mr. Ralston! Is it you?" as he encountered the set face
+of our friend.
+
+"Why, Vincent," exclaimed the latter, "you still here? What luck! You
+don't look a day older!"
+
+"I can't say the same for you, sir. I understand congratulations are in
+order. Oh, I read the papers. But--" he hesitated.
+
+"But you think I'm rather old for 'Johnnying'?" interpolated Ralston.
+"You're quite right. I am. But don't be alarmed; this is business. I
+want to find a young woman named Ernestine Hudson. I must see her at
+once. Can you fix it for me?"
+
+"I think so," answered the guardian of the wings. "I'd do it if I lost
+my job. I won't forget in a hurry what you did for my little Bill. Just
+step----"
+
+At that instant the door was thrust violently open and a gray-coated
+messenger boy, carrying a large oblong box, projected himself violently
+against Vincent.
+
+"For Hudson!" he ejaculated shortly.
+
+"Put 'em on that desk," directed Vincent.
+
+"Say, boss, let me take 'em in," pleaded the boy.
+
+"Who do you think you are, anyway?" inquired the doorkeeper. "Get out of
+here."
+
+The boy lingered, gazing wistfully down the gas-lighted passage, through
+which floated the hum of the orchestra, confused by the shuffle of feet
+and inarticulate orders.
+
+Vincent took a threatening step in the direction of the boy, who made a
+grimace at him and backed slowly through the door. Ralston smiled and
+looked inquiringly at the box.
+
+"It might serve as an introduction," he suggested with a smile.
+
+"You don't need it," said Vincent. "I guess you remember the way. Just
+step down the passage, and you'll find the chorus ready to go on for the
+second act. Hudson's the wheel horse for the partridges. She has a bunch
+of tail sprouts like a feather duster. What fool things the public pay
+to see nowadays! Why, they ain't content to let a girl be a girl, but
+they have to turn her into a bird, or a dress form, or a wax figger, or
+an automobile, or a flower. Now take this show. It's supposed to be a
+kind of a 'flag-raiser.' 'Marchin' Through Georgy' and 'Campin'
+To-night' and all that, and the chorus is _birds_. Birds! Sparrers,
+canaries, and partridges!" he grunted scornfully. "Well, good luck. See
+you later."
+
+Ralston walked down the passage and pushed open the skeleton canvas door
+that separated him from the wings. The curtain was down, and a small
+army of men were noisily pulling enormous flies into place by means of
+pulleys. One group in the center of the stage were erecting a "Port
+Arthur" bristling with guns, and several with wheelbarrows were bringing
+in a foreground of rocks, which others arranged with elaborate
+carelessness. Overhead hung a wilderness of ropes and drops, with
+sections of scenery suspended in mid-air. Two spiral staircases of iron
+sprang from either side and lost themselves in the tangle above.
+Ascending and descending were a perpetual stream of heterogeneous
+figures, who went up as birds and came down as village maidens, or who
+from grand dames of fashion were transformed into Quakeresses or drummer
+boys. There was loud chattering on all sides, interspersed with deep
+invectives from the coatless hustlers on the stage. Above all shrieked
+and rattled the pulleys.
+
+The blinding light and the clouds of dust made the scene utterly
+confusing, and for a moment Ralston hesitated vaguely. To his left a
+flock of "partridges" clustered about one of the flies, while one little
+lady partridge sat apart on a nail keg, and eased her little partridge
+foot by loosening her slipper.
+
+To the nearest Ralston turned and inquired for Miss Hudson. The girl
+whom he had addressed stared boldly at him, and without replying waved
+languidly toward the partridge on the barrel. It was evident that she
+took no interest in the friends of Miss Hudson. Ralston turned, and at
+the same moment heard a shrill cackle from the group behind him. In
+spite of himself he could feel the red coursing up to his ears. The girl
+on the barrel had entirely removed her slipper and was stretching her
+toes. She did not look up at his approach, having already minutely
+studied his make-up under the shelter of her heavily corked eyebrows, as
+he emerged from the passage.
+
+"Are you Miss Hudson?"
+
+"Yes," said the partridge, critically examining her instep.
+
+"My name is Ralston," he began rapidly. "I'm looking for a friend of
+mine, who must be turned up at once. It's a matter of life and death,
+and he's got to be found. I have an idea you know him."
+
+"Have you?" said the partridge innocently.
+
+"The man I refer to is John Steadman. Do you know where he is?"
+
+The girl slowly lifted her head and looked at him rather impudently. She
+seemed more like a large doll than a girl.
+
+"I haven't the pleasure of your acquaintance, Mr. Ralston, if that is
+your name, and I don't know your friend Steadman."
+
+There was something about her manner that convinced Ralston that she
+knew more than she admitted, but it was obvious that for purposes of her
+own she had made up her mind to treat him with the scant courtesy
+usually extended by show girls to people who are not worth while, and to
+people it is worth while to keep for a time at a distance.
+
+"I'm very sorry," said Ralston. "I believed that you were the one
+person in New York who could tell me where he was. Of course, you might
+know him under some other name."
+
+"Why are you so interested in finding this Mr.--Steadman?" asked the
+partridge, studiously inserting her foot in a shoe that seemed all toe.
+
+"Simply for his own sake."
+
+"Don't you ever come behind for yours?" she inquired abstractedly.
+Ralston suppressed a smile.
+
+"See here, young lady--" he began, changing his tactics.
+
+"All on for the second!" shouted a big man in a Derby hat. "Here you,
+Hudson, stop fooling and get into your place! Clear the wings."
+
+From behind the wall of curtain came the distant crash of the contending
+chords of the overture. "Port Arthur" with its rocks was in place, the
+Japanese flag flying defiantly in a strong current of air, generated by
+a frenzied electric fan held by a "super" in the moat. The chorus
+trooped from the flies, and came tumbling down fire escapes and
+staircases.
+
+The partridge knocked her heels together and jumped lightly to her feet.
+
+"Peep-peep!" she said. "See you later, old man. Stage door about
+eleven-thirty."
+
+She nodded at him and started hopping toward the stage. The other
+partridges were forming in long lines, with much jostling of tail
+feathers and fluttering of pinions.
+
+"Hurry up there!" shouted the assistant "stage" in Miss Hudson's
+direction, and then turned hastily toward the opposite flies where some
+mix-up had attracted his attention.
+
+Ralston saw his last clew hopping away from him. A bell rang loudly, and
+the orchestra struck up the first few bars of the opening chorus. Hardly
+conscious of what he was doing Ralston strode quickly after the
+partridge and, grasping her firmly by the wings, drew her back into the
+flies.
+
+"Let me go!" she gasped, struggling to free herself. "Let me go! What
+are you trying to do? Do you want to get me fined?"
+
+"Keep quiet," whispered Ralston, "I've got to speak to you. Do you
+understand? I can't let you go on. I'll stand for any fine, and square
+you into the bargain. It's too late, anyway! The curtain's up already."
+
+"Let me go!" she cried, the tears starting into her eyes. "You're
+hurting me, you brute! I'll lose my job. The management don't stand for
+this kind of thing. You're a fine gentleman, _you_ are! Oh, what shall I
+do?"
+
+Ralston's heart smote him. He knew well the hideous uncertainty which
+being out of a job means to the chorus girl, and its more hideous
+possibilities.
+
+"I'm sorry," he said humbly. "I had to do it, and I promise you shall
+lose nothing by it. Now, quick, where can we talk? Not here? The manager
+would see you."
+
+The partridge wiped her eyes.
+
+"Do you promise to square the management?"
+
+"I certainly do--on my honor as a gentleman."
+
+"Then come!" Hudson darted quickly back among the scenery, and Ralston
+followed her down a flight of iron steps which led beneath the stage.
+Pipes ran in all directions, and great heaps of old flies and useless
+properties reached toward the low ceiling, between which narrow alleys
+led off into the darkness. A smell of mold and of paint filled the air.
+Even the scant gas jets seemed to burn with a peculiar dimness in the
+damp atmosphere.
+
+"Come along!" whistled the partridge.
+
+Beyond a pile of lumber in a sort of catacomb she stopped. A bead of gas
+showed blue against some whitewashed brickwork.
+
+"Turn it up," said Hudson, and Ralston did so.
+
+"Hungry?" she continued. "_I_ could eat anything that 'didn't bite me
+first!'"
+
+Ralston laughed.
+
+"Were you in that show?" he asked. "It was a good one. No, I'm not
+hungry. Suppose I were?"
+
+"This is our rathskeller," she laughed. "Are you thirsty?"
+
+Ralston admitted to a certain degree of dryness.
+
+"Certainly," he said, "I should like nothing better than a large
+schooner of dark, imported beer. What will you have?" he continued,
+carrying on the jest.
+
+Hudson, who had seated herself on a low seat by the wall, got up and
+struck sharply on the wooden partition with a stick.
+
+"What's that?" asked Ralston.
+
+"Perhaps some beer will come out!" remarked the partridge. "Moses was
+not the only one."
+
+A rattling followed, and a square opening appeared in the wall, in which
+the shaggy tow-head of a young man was visible.
+
+He grinned at sight of Miss Hudson.
+
+"How vas de shootink?" he inquired. "Does de bartridges vant more vet?
+Ha! Ha! You _vas_ a bird!"
+
+"Ya, Fritz. Two schooners and a hot dog. Hustle 'em up."
+
+Fritz closed the slide which covered the opening and the partridge
+turned gayly toward Ralston.
+
+"What do you think of that? Pretty good, eh?"
+
+"I don't understand," he replied. "Where did he come from? What is in
+there?"
+
+"I'll tell you. When 'Abe' Erlanger built this house there was a row of
+old tenements on the side street. Well, Jo Bimberger tore 'em down and
+built a rathskeller. While he was doing it one of the girls tipped off
+the boss carpenter to leave this place. Ain't it grand? Say, you get
+almost dead jumping around on the boards. It looks easy enough, but I
+tell you sometimes you're ready to scream."
+
+"Just the thing," answered our friend. "Do the management object?"
+
+"Not a bit. 'Abe' gets a rake-off from the saloon. It's good business."
+
+The slide opened and two dripping glasses made their appearance. Ralston
+received them and handed one to Miss Hudson. Then Fritz passed in a
+frankfurter about the size of a policeman's night stick.
+
+Ralston drew half a dollar from his pocket and exchanged it for the
+sausage.
+
+"That's all right, keep the change," he remarked.
+
+"My, you must have it to throw away!" said Hudson. "Twenty-three for
+you, Fritz. Shut the slide."
+
+Ralston took a deep draught of the beer. He could not help smiling as he
+thought of the picture he would present could any one of his associates
+see him at the moment. What, for instance, would the President have
+said? And the Secretary of War! Underneath the stage of a theater,
+drinking beer with a chorus girl! He put down the glass and pulled
+himself together.
+
+"Now to business!" he exclaimed. "This is jolly good fun, but I've a
+long night in front of me, and I've got work to do in it. Where is
+Steadman?"
+
+The partridge looked at him inquiringly.
+
+"You don't mean you really are trying to find anyone?"
+
+"Certainly I do."
+
+"Steadman?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+She shrugged her shoulders. It was clear, even to Ralston, that she was
+disappointed.
+
+"I can't help you."
+
+"You _know_ him?" Ralston's gaze penetrated her feathers.
+
+"Yes. But I don't know where he is--and what is more, I don't care. He's
+a cad."
+
+"Well, let it go at that. But I've got to find him. How long is it since
+you've seen him?"
+
+"Three weeks."
+
+"What was he up to?"
+
+"Oh, the usual business. He's badly in. Let him go; he's not worth your
+while."
+
+"I didn't say he was. But he must be turned up. Was he drinking?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Ah!" Ralston scowled.
+
+"He's a bad one," continued the partridge. "He began at the bottom and
+worked down."
+
+"You must help me to find him. Who is he running with?"
+
+"I don't know anything about him. I've heard he knows a girl named
+Florence Davenport. If you can find her she might help you."
+
+"Where does she live?"
+
+"On Forty-sixth Street," and she gave him a number.
+
+Ralston arose and put his hand in his pocket.
+
+"I am very much indebted to you," he said courteously. "You won't mind
+if I make good your fine?"
+
+He drew out a bill and placed it in her hand. She raised her eyebrows at
+sight of its denomination.
+
+"No," she said, "I haven't done anything for you. I don't want the
+money."
+
+"But your fine?"
+
+"That's all right," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "I could have
+gone on--if I'd wanted to. I was merely bluffing. You couldn't have held
+me. You're a gentleman, and I don't want the money." She spoke quietly,
+and looked him full in the face. Ralston wavered.
+
+"Please don't," said the girl, and held out the bill. Ralston took it
+and returned it to his pocket.
+
+"Miss Hudson," said he, "you have placed me under a great obligation,
+one that money cannot repay. If I can ever help you in any way let me
+know."
+
+The partridge got up and led the way toward the staircase. At the top
+she held out her hand and Ralston took it in his.
+
+"He's not worth it," she repeated. "Let him go."
+
+"_Noblesse oblige_," he smiled, looking down at her.
+
+The chorus had filed off the stage and were standing on the other side.
+
+"Here you, Hudson! Where have you been?" whispered the manager hoarsely,
+grasping her roughly by the shoulder. "Get over there."
+
+"Leave me alone!" she cried sharply, shaking off his arm. Then, turning
+to Ralston:
+
+"Good night, sir," she said.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+Outside the Moonshine Ralston found the usual congestion of cabs,
+landaus, and wagons. He had delayed to exchange a few reminiscences with
+old Vincent, and it was fully ten minutes before he could find his cabby
+in the tangle of vehicles. As he stepped into the street, to save the
+time requisite for the man to draw to the curb, an omnibus was vainly
+trying to force its way through the side street. It had paused for an
+instant in front of the stage entrance, and Ralston had caught a glimpse
+of Ellen's face inside.
+
+A momentary impulse had seized him to stop the coach and tell her of the
+hopelessness of the task upon which she had sent him, but in the instant
+of his uncertainty the way had cleared and they had driven on. He had
+climbed into his own hansom, little the wiser for his experience at the
+Moonshine.
+
+The sidewalks were jammed with the usual after-theater crowd hurrying
+either to get home as quickly as possible or to secure seats in
+restaurants which pandered less to the taste of the _gourmet_ than to
+those of the _roué_. For a solid mile on either side of Broadway
+stretched house after house of entertainment, any one of which could
+harbor a hundred Steadmans, and for a quarter of a mile on either hand
+lay twenty streets, lined with places of a character vastly more likely
+to do so. He followed the crowd slowly northward, wondering why so few
+of them walked in the opposite direction. Whenever he came to a
+well-known hostelry he went in and eagerly scanned the tables, but,
+although he recognized many he knew and who knew him, he found naught of
+Steadman.
+
+Having visited five "chophouses," a "rathskeller," two "hofbraus," and
+several more pretentious places, he abandoned the idea of trying to
+stumble upon his man, and returned to his original belief that only by
+following some sort of a clew could he succeed. Somewhere in the hot
+clasp of the city lay the miserable youth he had promised to find. For a
+moment he regretted the answer which he had just sent to Ellen's
+apartment--the four words that had pledged him to a fool's errand, the
+absurdity of which was now apparent. Then came a realizing sense of the
+importance to Ellen of his mission, and a grim determination to find
+this man wherever he might be.
+
+He had now reached Forty-second Street, and the crowd divided into two
+streams, one moving eastward and the other northward, a part of the
+latter to plunge beneath the Times Building into the subway, and the
+remainder to add to the already existing congestion in front of the
+Hotel Astor, Rector's, Shanley's, and the New York Theater. Longacre
+Square boiled with life--a life garish, tawdry, sensual and vulgar,
+unlike that of any other city or generation.
+
+The restaurants could seat no more, and a bejeweled, scented throng
+stood in the doorways and struggled for the vacant tables. The night
+hawks lining the curb peered eagerly at every passer-by to note signs of
+intoxication or indecision. Tiny newsboys thrust their bundles of papers
+against dress waistcoats and felt for loose watches, ready to dart into
+the throng at the first move of suspicion on the part of their victims.
+Clerks with their best girls pointed out these and made witticisms upon
+them, hoping thus to divert attention from the attractions of the
+restaurants, for whose splendors they intended later to substitute the
+more substantial, if more economical, pleasures of the dairy lunch.
+Automobiles, in which sat supercilious foreign chauffeurs, blocked the
+entrances of the pleasure palaces. Streams of country folk poured in and
+out of hotels which made a specialty of rural trade, promising to their
+patrons, in widely distributed circulars, easy access to everything
+"worth seeing." These came, were relieved of their money, and, after
+fervid correspondence on the hotel stationery, went home to poison the
+minds of their townfolk with descriptions of scenes which existed only
+in their imaginations.
+
+For every person on Longacre Square after midnight who is there for an
+honest purpose, there are three who are there either to do that which
+they should not do or to see that which they should not see. It is the
+white light in which the New York moth plays before he plunges into the
+withering flame. It was here Steadman had begun, and like enough he was
+not far off.
+
+The electric clock above the roof tops moved to a quarter before one as
+Ralston turned into Forty-sixth Street, and he looked both ways before
+springing from his hansom and dashing up the steps of the number to
+which he had been directed. After some time a mulatto maid opened the
+door and asked his business. Miss Davenport was out, she said. Ralston
+stretched the truth far enough to say that he was a friend. The girl had
+no idea where she could be found. Then Ralston also volunteered that he
+was a friend of Mr. Steadman's. Still the maid remained imperturbable.
+The sight of a bill, however, led to an immediate change of demeanor.
+
+Yes, Miss Davenport had gone out with a gentleman--not Mr.
+Steadman--early in the evening. Did she know Mr. Steadman? Yes, she
+thought she knew Mr. Steadman--a dark gentleman. She seemed anxious to
+help Ralston, but doubtful of success.
+
+As was not unreasonable, Ralston was beginning to be quite disgusted at
+the position in which he found himself, a condition which was by no
+means relieved by the fact that, as he reached the bottom of the steps,
+he found himself face to face with Colonel Duer and a somewhat elderly
+lady companion. The new Assistant Secretary felt distinctly
+uncomfortable. Another man might have turned away his face, but Ralston
+looked steadily into the colonel's under the full light of the street
+lamp. Simultaneously he raised his hand to his hat, then crossed the
+sidewalk and jumped into the hansom. The cabby lifted the manhole and
+looked down the air shaft.
+
+"Huh?" said he. "Where'll I go now?"
+
+"I don't know," said Ralston.
+
+The cabby chuckled. He was satisfied one way quite as well as another.
+From his seat of vantage he was able to look down critically upon
+mankind in general, and had learned to distinguish "the real thing" when
+he saw it. He had no doubts as to Ralston, and no misgivings at all as
+to the latter's ability to pay and pay well, and he was as confident
+that his tip would be in accordance with the most advanced ideas of
+liberality as he was that this same fare of his was quite out of the
+ordinary. He had sized Ralston for a thoroughbred from the moment that
+he had come downstairs. For one thing he did not waste words, for
+another he neither looked at his watch nor inquired the price; for
+another--and you could always tell by that--he knew just what he was
+doing. Moreover, he was perfectly sober. He belonged to that small and
+distinguished body of midnight travelers who realize that they are in a
+cab and not in a hammock. Hence Ralston's admission that he did not know
+where to go to next struck upon the cabby intelligence in the light of a
+joke.
+
+"Huh?" said he again, removing his cigar.
+
+"I said I didn't know," repeated Ralston.
+
+"Up against it!" said cabby with divination.
+
+"Exactly," returned his fare with a slight laugh. "You are a man of
+perspicacity."
+
+"Huh?" repeated the cabby.
+
+"I said you were a mind reader," answered Ralston.
+
+"I guess I can see furder'n most," admitted cabby complacently.
+
+Ralston had struck a match and lit a fresh cigar. He was feeling very,
+very tired. His watch showed that there were exactly six hours left
+before the Twelfth would start--not a minute more.
+
+The cabby was still peering down the manhole and dropping an occasional
+sympathetic ash on Ralston's silk hat. His fare interested him--he was
+beginning to have a notion that Ralston was somebody. Maybe a big
+military gun. He had that clean, hard look those fellers have.
+
+Suddenly the fare spoke again, in an even more amiable tone than before.
+
+"My friend, how long have you been in this business?"
+
+The cabby hesitated while he made an accurate mathematical computation.
+
+"Five years on a percentage--ten years on my own--fifteen years, sir."
+
+"You know the town pretty well, eh?"
+
+"Fairly well, sir."
+
+"Is there a _café_ somewhere a bit out of the way--something quiet, you
+know?"
+
+"Sure, across the square. Shall I drive you there?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The cabby clucked to his horse, and they wheeled about and crossed the
+White Way again. The pedestrians were thinning out. The rain had ceased,
+the clouds had parted, and the sky was sprinkled with brightly burning
+stars. Up in the Times Tower the afternoon before one of the editorial
+writers had polished up a "war-whoop" such as, he had said to himself,
+would make the Japanese emperor scratch his head. It was a half-column
+"drip" in the nature of a "Godspeed" to the first volunteer regiment to
+start for the front. He liked the Twelfth, and had been in it himself
+under Ralston. The thought had reminded him that he ought to give his
+old captain a bit of a send-off as well, and he had penned a dozen lines
+to be inserted after the other, and headed "A Wise Appointment," ending
+his short paragraph with the words: "The nation is to be sincerely
+congratulated on the wisdom of the Executive's selection."
+
+Twenty-five stories below, the subject of his encomium was now entering
+the side door of a shabby _café_, followed by his cabby. They seated
+themselves at a table in the corner of the sawdust-covered floor.
+
+"The situation is this," began Ralston, after the waiter had picked up
+his tip and retired. "I must, inside of six hours, turn up a man who is
+somewhere in the city. He doesn't know enough to want to be found. He
+must be located without outside help--quietly. The only clew I have to
+his whereabouts is that he knows a young woman named Florence Davenport.
+She lives in that house we stopped at. She has gone out with a man named
+Sullivan. I don't know the fellow, but the chances are he won't help me.
+But whether he will or not, I don't know where he is, and I must find
+him in order to find her."
+
+He looked at the cabby inquiringly.
+
+"I know him, all right," said the cabby. "A big 'harp' with a sandy
+mustache. I know her, too. I took 'em both out this very night."
+
+"Took them out!" exclaimed Ralston. "Why, in Heaven's name, didn't you
+say so before!" Then he remembered and laughed at the absurdity of his
+question. The fatigue of a severe day was dissipated in a moment.
+
+"Sure," continued the cabby, "I took 'em out just before I answered your
+call. She uses the same stable."
+
+"Where did they go?"
+
+"Proctor's."
+
+"Where do you suppose they are now?"
+
+"You can search me!" responded the cabby, now thoroughly interested.
+"The chances are about even between Shanley's and the Martin, but you
+tried Shanley's. Better hike right down to the other place."
+
+Ralston started swiftly to his feet, made his way to the cab, and in a
+moment more they were galloping down Broadway.
+
+The electric timepiece on the roofs marked four minutes past one as
+they rattled past. What people were still awake were most of them
+inside the shining windows of the restaurants, and the big porters
+were leaning sleepily against the doorposts of their hostelries. In
+the cab Ralston wondered what the President would say if he could see
+him then, chasing all over the town after a young woman and her male
+escort. He was dreadfully sleepy, and the cushions of the cab were so
+soft--soft--sof----
+
+He pulled himself together as the cab reined up sharply at the
+Twenty-sixth Street entrance of the Café Martin. His driver did not need
+to be told to wait, and Ralston hurriedly pushed his way through the
+revolving doors into the hot, scented air of the waiting hall. If it was
+late on Broadway, it was early enough inside the Martin.
+
+On the right, in a crowded _café_, two hundred soldier boys and
+civilians with their sweethearts sat noisily discussing broiled
+lobsters, Welsh rarebits, caviare sandwiches, and such less important
+matters as were suggested by the last news from Washington. The air
+reeked with the fumes of hot food, cigarette smoke, and steam heat. When
+the side door opened, and the draught pulled through from the main
+dining room, one caught a whiff of rice powder and violets. The chatter
+and clatter were deafening.
+
+To Ralston the chances seemed in favor of the other and more conspicuous
+company in the front room, so he turned back and crossed the hall. At
+the door of the main dining room he paused. At fully eighteen out of the
+twenty-five tables which were presented to his view sat an equal number
+of young women who might have qualified as Miss Florence Davenport.
+There was more room here, the music was louder, and the men had on
+either uniforms or evening dress. The confusion was even greater than in
+the _café_, due to the greater amount of light and music and the
+variation of color. Here and there at the larger tables sat groups of
+officers, indulging in pompous patriotic toasts.
+
+Ralston moved toward the center of the room, eagerly scanning the tables
+in search of a blond man with a light mustache, but he saw none to
+correspond with the cabby's description. Then from behind him he heard
+his name called, and he turned to be greeted by a chorus of
+congratulatory welcome from a party of his old comrades of the Twelfth,
+who crowded around him, drew him into a chair and ordered more bottles.
+
+Ralston protested but feebly. He was out of sorts with the whole
+miserable business.
+
+"Here's to you, old man!" exclaimed Peyton, one of Duer's lieutenants.
+"Boys, here's to the next Secretary of the Navy, and then, who
+knows--well, here's to Dick Ralston, the best ever--bumpers!"
+
+"Fellows," answered Ralston, "it's very good of you. It's very good of
+the President. I hope I'll do him credit, but the best any of us can do
+is the right way as each of us sees it at the moment--and no one knows
+where it may lead us. Here's to being on the level--here's to the right
+way and the _white_ way!" He started to drink off the toast when a man's
+head and shoulders arose behind Peyton, and a thick voice cried:
+
+"That for mine! Th' White Way--th' Great White Way!" and he raised a
+goblet and drained it. The men in the group laughed, and the laugh was
+echoed from several of the tables. As the fellow stumbled back into his
+seat Ralston realized suddenly that he had found his man. A red face and
+a blond mustache! The elusive Sullivan at last!
+
+For a moment our hero chatted animatedly with his friends, while taking
+note of the position of the table at which the fellow sat. As yet he
+could not see whether Sullivan had a companion, for the table was in a
+recess and behind a stand of artificial palms. Then he leaned across the
+shoulder of the man next him and caught sight of a gray silk dress and a
+rose-trimmed hat. Who the lady was it was impossible for him to
+discover, as her head was completely hidden by the paper foliage toward
+which her companion was bending. They were, apparently, by no means near
+the end of their supper, so that there was time to consider the
+situation and to decide upon a course of action. But the situation
+itself was a novel one to Ralston.
+
+Now the mere accosting of a young lady in a public restaurant is not a
+very serious matter, even if she be accompanied by a male escort, so
+long as the matter be done decently and in order. But to suddenly burst
+upon a _tête-à-tête_ couple from behind a bunch of palms, and demand
+what has been done with a young man, especially if it be nearly three in
+the morning, is somewhat different. One mistaken move, and the search
+would have to be abandoned. How was he to introduce himself to a strange
+woman and compel her to divulge information which she might have no
+intention of disclosing, and how, moreover, could this be accomplished
+in the presence of a person of the type of Mr. Sullivan? He had no claim
+on either of them. Even assuming that the bounder did not object to his
+having speech with the lady, it was unlikely that she would admit any
+intimacy with Steadman in the presence of her companion. No, he must
+speak to the girl by herself--that was clear enough. But how? Obviously,
+he could not invite her escort to step out into the next room for a few
+moments. Neither was it at all likely that she would accede to any
+request of his (carried by a waiter) either to speak to him or to get
+rid of her companion. Again he was, in the vernacular, "up against it"
+as his cabby had suggested on a previous occasion.
+
+Meantime the moments were slipping by, with Ralston trying hard to keep
+up his end of the conversation. Ten minutes more, and he had determined
+definitely that there was no course open but to trust to the girl
+herself for a solution. All he could do was to throw his hand down, face
+up, before her, and let her decide. In the event of his request being
+ignored, he must face it boldly out with both of them.
+
+Borrowing a pencil he wrote upon his visiting card: "Miss Davenport will
+place the writer under the greatest possible obligation by allowing him
+to speak to her privately upon a matter of the utmost importance. He is
+in civilian dress at the next table." Underneath his name he wrote:
+"Second Assistant Secretary of the Navy." Summoning the head waiter he
+instructed the latter to carry it to the lady behind the palm in such a
+manner that it should be unobserved by her companion.
+
+He felt instantly relieved--the relief the rider feels the moment he has
+decided to take the jump and his horse rises beneath him. He plunged
+anew into the banter going on about him. He saw, out of the corner of
+his eye, his messenger circle the room, approach the couple from the
+other side, address Mr. Sullivan, call his attention to something behind
+him, and slip the card into his companion's lap. Then the attendant
+moved on.
+
+Several moments passed. He began to feel that nothing had been
+accomplished when there came a crash of glass, the palm rocked, and the
+lady in some confusion sprang to her feet, shaking her dress. Her escort
+arose more slowly, cursing the nearest waiters in a comprehensive
+manner. The hubbub in the restaurant ceased momentarily, but quickly
+began again as the manager and his aids hurried forward to offer their
+assistance.
+
+They had hard work to appease Mr. Sullivan, however. He wanted to see
+the proprietor, and insisted loudly, although irrelevantly, that he was
+an "American gentleman." The table was righted, and the head waiter
+promised that a second supper should be instantly forthcoming, but
+Sullivan remained in a state of defiance. He insisted on seeing "Monseer
+Martin"--"my fren' Monseer Martin," and called loudly for a "garsoon" to
+take him there.
+
+Apparently the lady herself was indignant, and was not at all averse to
+having her escort see his "fren' Monseer Martin." Then, with his head
+high in air like a red harvest moon, the rampant Sullivan made his way
+toward the main door of the dining room, followed by the apologetic and
+deprecatory head waiter.
+
+As the two passed out Ralston arose.
+
+"Going?" inquired Peyton.
+
+"Not very far. I'll be right back," replied our friend.
+
+The others watched him curiously.
+
+In a moment he was behind the palm, and had sunk into Sullivan's vacant
+seat.
+
+"How d'y do, Mr. Second Assistant Secretary of the Navy?" remarked the
+young woman nonchalantly. "Glad to know you. Rather a noisy
+introduction, eh?"
+
+"I'm surprised you thought it worth while," answered Ralston. "Our
+friend has probably polished off Martin by this time, and is already on
+his way back. Then he'll be ready to polish off _me_!"
+
+"I guess you're able to take care of yourself, all right," replied the
+girl. "What is it you want?"
+
+"I don't know that it's wise for me to tell you on this short
+acquaintance."
+
+"Short? Yes. I suppose it is. But, you see, I know _you_. And if I can
+help Mr. Ralston, why I _will_."
+
+"Thank you," said Ralston. The words sounded entirely _malapropos_ and
+inadequate. "Tell me, then--tell me where to find John Steadman."
+
+Instantly the girl's whole manner changed and she drew back.
+
+"Steadman!" she exclaimed uneasily.
+
+"Yes, Steadman! John Steadman. I must find him _to-night_!"
+
+"You can't!" she cried in some agitation. "You can't. I've no business
+to tell you even that, but you _can't_."
+
+Ralston's face settled into a grim mask.
+
+"I _will_!" he answered steadily. "And you're going to help me."
+
+"I can't, Mr. Ralston. I can't. I don't know where he is."
+
+Ralston's heart fell again.
+
+"But you can _help_ me?" he asked.
+
+"I can't. I swear I can't," she replied almost hysterically, and Ralston
+could see that she was speaking the truth.
+
+"Tell me," he said, "tell me, and I'll give you anything you ask--does
+_Sullivan_ know?"
+
+As he spoke the girl's face turned pale under the electric light. She
+nodded her head slightly, while at the same moment a thick hand
+descended on Ralston's shoulder and a heavy, wine-laden voice growled in
+his ear:
+
+"Whatcher doin' in my seat?"
+
+Ralston sprang to his feet and shook off the hand.
+
+"Whatcher doin' talkin' to this lady?" inquired the other, his eyes
+blazing with anger. His voice rang loudly above the roar of
+conversation.
+
+"Miss Davenport is a friend of mine," replied Ralston as quietly as he
+could.
+
+"Frien' nothin'!" cried Sullivan. "I'll teach you to mind your own
+business." He took a step backward and began to pull off his dinner
+jacket.
+
+"Don't, Jim!" cried the girl. "Don't! Please! Please don't!"
+
+"Shut up!" snarled Sullivan. "I'll attend to you later!"
+
+There was a great uproar in the restaurant. At the same instant Sullivan
+led heavily at Ralston's head. Almost automatically, with every ounce of
+his body at the end of an arm trained into a steel rod, Ralston ducked
+and countered. His fist caught Sullivan squarely on the chin, and the
+man went down and backward like a duck shot on the wing. His head struck
+on a corner of the table, and he lay motionless.
+
+The next instant Ralston was the center of an excited, jostling crowd.
+Peyton had his arm around him and was whispering: "Get out quick, old
+man. Awfully unfortunate. Get out while there's time."
+
+"Some one ring for an ambulance!" shouted a civilian at a nearby table.
+
+"Is there a doctor here?" inquired the head waiter mechanically,
+hurrying toward the door.
+
+Ralston's head reeled. The President's latest appointee mixed up in a
+drunken brawl at a public hostelry! Worse than that, if possible, he
+had, perhaps, killed the only man who knew where Steadman could be
+found. It had all happened so quickly that he saw it like the scenes of
+a vitagraph, with little twinkles of light glinting all about. Then a
+girl's voice whispered in his ear:
+
+"Get away! You mustn't be mixed up in this. Get away while you can!"
+
+Somebody began to fling water in Sullivan's face and to rip off his
+collar. The crowd forced itself almost upon the prostrate man. "Get
+away," he heard Peyton repeating. "Don't be a fool! Think of the
+Administration!"
+
+Men were climbing upon tables to see what was going on. There was a
+deafening hubbub from the main hall, into which the crowd from the other
+room was pouring. Ralston was thinking as quickly as he could. He saw
+his whole public career shattered by a single blow. He saw Ellen's
+anxious face and heard her words: "Please find Steadman." He ground his
+teeth. The only clew to Steadman lay like a log before him, struck down
+by his own hand.
+
+Some one in the back of the room shouted: "Send for the police--a man
+has been shot!" and he heard the silly cry repeated in the outer
+corridor. Less than half a minute had passed, but to Ralston it had
+already seemed twenty, when he decided upon the only course Fate had
+left open to him.
+
+How he managed to do it he never really knew. Afterwards it appeared
+absurdly impossible, but Peyton said that at the time it seemed
+reasonable enough. There had been a moment when, in the confusion, the
+crowd had blocked its own efforts to get closer, a moment when no one
+apparently had known what to do, a moment which Ralston, in his
+businesslike and rather autocratic fashion, had turned to his own
+advantage.
+
+A hurried whisper to Peyton, and with the help of one of their brother
+officers they had raised Sullivan from the floor and, followed by the
+girl, had carried him to the Fifth Avenue entrance. "Keep back the
+crowd!" Peyton had cried to the head waiter. "We must give this man
+air," and in a moment more they had staggered with Sullivan's limp form
+to the ever-ready hansom, which had wheeled quickly to their assistance,
+and shoved him in.
+
+In another moment there had appeared around the corner of the building a
+throng of men and women in evening dress, among whom were mingled
+waiters, pedestrians, and cabmen.
+
+"To the hospital!" cried Ralston, and pushing in the girl, sprang after
+her himself. The cabman cut furiously at his horse, the bystanders
+parted, and the hansom leaped forward like a chariot in a Roman
+amphitheater, with Ralston, who had snatched the reins from above his
+head, guiding the excited animal down Fifth Avenue.
+
+A policeman made an ineffectual attempt to stop them at Twenty-third
+Street, but quickly stepped aside to avoid being run down.
+
+"Hully gee!" shouted the cabman inconsequently, "Hully gee!" while the
+girl, staring abstractedly at the motionless face beside her, murmured
+excitedly, "A clean get-away! A clean get-away!"
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+They turned west at Eighth Street and crossed Sixth Avenue at a slow
+trot. Ralston had surrendered the reins to the driver and was now
+racking his brains for a solution of his extraordinary and sensational
+predicament. The girl had taken Sullivan's motionless head into her lap.
+
+"Where to, sir?" inquired the cabby through the manhole.
+
+"I don't know," answered Ralston. "Lose us if you can, that's all. Lose
+us so we won't be able to find our own way back."
+
+They continued west, following narrow, dimly lit streets, under the
+shadow of high warehouses. Sullivan had given as yet no sign of life and
+the girl had not spoken since Twenty-third Street. The strain of the
+situation began to tell.
+
+"Well, what are we going to do now?" inquired Ralston with an attempt at
+jocularity. The girl did not reply, and as he heard her sobbing softly a
+pang of remorse touched him. What business had he to force this young
+woman into being an accessory after the fact in what might be heralded
+as a crime?
+
+"Miss Davenport," he said, "I'm awfully sorry to have dragged you into
+this. Indeed, I am. Let me drive you home. I'll look after Sullivan, and
+if necessary take him to a hospital."
+
+"And leave you to stick this out by yourself? Not on your life!" she
+replied. "It's a bad mix-up, but we've got to pull it off somehow. But
+first we've got to do something for Jim. Look, there's a drug store over
+there and a night light."
+
+"But that won't do," expostulated Ralston. "We never could explain to
+the officer on post. We'll have to go somewhere else. You know about
+these things. Where?"
+
+"Yes, yes--I know."
+
+"Well, quickly!"
+
+The cabman was peering down through the manhole.
+
+"Do you know Commerce Street?" asked the girl.
+
+"Sure I do," said the cabby.
+
+"Well, go to No. 589."
+
+The cabman jerked around his horse. They were in Greenwich Village now,
+and not far from the old New York Central freight depot. Trim little
+brick houses with white portals and tiny eves lined the streets. Slender
+lanes led away into black distances. The night was silent save for the
+rush and roar of the elevated and the clack of their own horse's hoofs.
+Not a window was agleam. In this respectable neighborhood folks went to
+bed betimes, and got up early.
+
+The cool night air soothed Ralston's nerves, but with it he felt limp
+and tired. The excitement at the restaurant, the wild dash down Fifth
+Avenue, the presence with them of a man who might perhaps be dead, the
+fear of pursuit, the extraordinary situation in which he, a man of so
+much recent prominence, found himself, the strange way in which this
+girl had become a partner in his fortunes, dazed and bewildered him.
+
+"He can't be dead," muttered Ralston. "He can't be dead!"
+
+The cab turned into a little street lined with irregularly shaped
+houses. A few gnarled and distorted trees, whose trunks burst out of the
+concrete pavement, raised their dust-laden branches, prehensile and
+unnatural, into the starlight. A hundred feet from where the street
+began it turned sharply to the left, forming a right angle, and
+debouched again into another thoroughfare. Had one of the ends of it
+been closed it would have formed a natural _cul-de-sac_--an appendix to
+one of the great canals of the city. And with curious impropriety the
+city fathers had named this "accidental" Commerce Street, leaving it to
+the imagination as to what sort of commerce had been intended. A rickety
+gas lamp leaned dangerously toward a flight of high wooden steps in the
+angle of the street. Strangely enough, when the street turned the house
+turned, too, so that half its front faced north and half east. The
+natural inference was that the inside of the house was shaped like a
+piece of pie, with its partially bitten point abutting on the corner.
+
+Ralston took charge of Sullivan and the girl sprang down and stepped
+into the area. Somewhere at a great distance a bell rang once, and then,
+more faintly, a second time. They waited in silence. On the main
+thoroughfare beyond the gnarled trees a policeman slowly sauntered
+across the street. At the top of one of the opposite houses a window was
+raised cautiously and voices could be heard whispering. Again the bell
+jangled loosely in the distance, then came the sound of iron bars
+rattling and bolts being shot back. A grating creaked rustily.
+
+"It's me--Floss. Let me in."
+
+The girl ran back to the cab and a match flared in the grating. Ralston
+thought he saw a wrinkled face behind the light.
+
+"All right. Bring him in," said the girl.
+
+Ralston and the cabman lifted the lank form of Sullivan to the sidewalk
+and half carried, half dragged him into the area. At their feet lay a
+small flight of steps upon which played a feeble light from the inside.
+Down this they pulled the victim of Ralston's strange quest. A passage
+opened before them, in the middle of which stood a tiny, wrinkled Jewish
+woman, who watched them with snapping, restless eyes, like those of a
+blackbird.
+
+The girl pushed by them and, taking the candle from the woman, opened a
+door leading to the right. The air was close and unwholesome. A bed with
+only a mattress covering the springs stood in the corner, and upon this
+Ralston and the cabman placed the still unconscious form of Mr.
+Sullivan.
+
+"That'll do for the present," said the girl. "Now you" (addressing the
+cabman) "wait outside. If the cop asks what you are doin', you're
+waiting for a fare in another house, see?"
+
+The cabman retired, and the Jewish woman lit a kerosene lamp. The girl
+disappeared and returned with a wet sponge and a bottle of ammonia. She
+now opened Sullivan's shirt and sponged his face with perfect
+confidence. Then she poured some ammonia upon the sponge and applied it
+to his nostrils. Ralston, leaning over the bed, coughed in spite of
+himself.
+
+Sullivan opened his eyes a little; the girl removed the sponge and put
+her head close to his face.
+
+"He's breathing--he'll come round all right," she said. "He stays 'out'
+an awful long time."
+
+She gave him the ammonia again and the patient gasped audibly. Ralston
+heaved a great sigh of relief. Although he had known himself to be
+absolutely in the right he was aware that this body-snatching was, to
+say the least, irregular. Had the fellow died it would have made a nasty
+story for the papers. He sank back on a horsehair rocking chair and the
+room grew black with little pricking stars. The next moment he felt the
+sponge thrust in his face.
+
+"You're almost out yourself, Mr. Ralston. I'll have a cup of coffee
+ready for you in a minute. Lie down on the sofa."
+
+Ralston indeed felt sick and faint, the lids of his eyes seemed like
+lead, pulled down by invisible but powerful strings. The man was not
+dead! But Steadman--he'd think of Steadman in a moment, after he had
+rested his eyes a little----
+
+He leaned back his head--and slept. A light touch on his forehead
+awakened him half an hour later, and he opened his eyes upon a strange
+picture. The room was stuffy and warm as ever. The lamp cast but an
+uncertain light on the walls, which, he noticed, were quite bare of
+ornament. Over the windows were heavy wooden shutters, bolted on the
+inside. On the bed lay Sullivan, breathing heavily. The floor was
+covered by a dirty rag carpet, and the only articles of furniture
+besides the bed itself were a horsehair-covered lounge, a small table,
+and two horsehair-covered chairs, and in the midst of these uncouth
+surroundings stood a girl in shimmering evening dress, her white
+shoulders shining in the lamplight, offering him a cup of hot and
+fragrant coffee.
+
+"You're a brick," said Ralston feebly.
+
+The girl smiled.
+
+"Kind of funny, ain't it? To think of you and me and him"--she pointed
+over her shoulder--"being here. What a rumpus the police'll make when
+they can't find him at any hospital. It's a queer mix-up, now, ain't
+it?"
+
+"I should say it _was_!" echoed Ralston. He gulped down the coffee. "Do
+you live here?" he asked, sweeping the room again with his eyes. The
+girl smiled.
+
+"Not generally," she said.
+
+"But this house--whose is it?"
+
+The girl shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"They've never been able to find out at the tax office," she said.
+
+"You're a good girl," said Ralston inconsequently.
+
+The smile on the girl's face changed. She started to speak. Then she
+closed her eyes and covered them with her hands.
+
+The figure in the bed gave vent to a long-drawn-out snort and tossed
+heavily. The girl dabbed her eyes with her wrists and turned with an
+anxious look.
+
+"He's waking up," she whispered. "He'll be crazy when he sees you here."
+
+"But I brought him here," said Ralston, "and it was his own fault.
+Besides, he is going to find Steadman for me."
+
+"Find Steadman for you?" she exclaimed.
+
+"Why, certainly! Why not?"
+
+The girl looked at him in amazement.
+
+"And that's why you carried him off?"
+
+"Yes--naturally--of course. What did you think?"
+
+She gave a low laugh and clapped her hands softly together.
+
+"And I thought all along it was just to get yourself out of the mess you
+were in--to avoid the publicity and all. I didn't see your game. I
+thought it was all up for you--and the best you could do was to get out
+of having to go to court! But they can't count you out, can they? My,
+you _have_ got a nerve!" she finished enthusiastically.
+
+Ralston shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I assure you it wasn't as clearly thought out as all that. It was like
+clutching at whatever was left. Sullivan's my only clew. How can I force
+a statement from this fellow? What has he done? What hold can I get on
+him?"
+
+The girl looked at him half frightened yet full of admiration.
+
+"Don't try it, Mr. Ralston," she whispered. "Give it up. You can't do
+it. It's too late. Besides, Sullivan's a dangerous man--a man who stands
+in with all the politicians--a bad fellow to threaten. He's done things
+enough, God knows, to send him to jail a dozen times--but leave him
+alone! You've done enough for Steadman. If you try to monkey with
+Sullivan _anything_ might happen to you. You mightn't leave this house
+alive. Get away before it's too late. You're probably due in Washington
+about now. This night's work will blow over, and Steadman isn't worth
+the powder to blow his brains out." She clasped her hands with a gesture
+of entreaty.
+
+"No," said Ralston. "I've begun, and I must finish the job. I mightn't
+have gone into it if I had known what it was going to cost, but it's too
+late to back out now. Besides, I've nothing to lose. I'm done for. This
+'Martin' business would kill the Administration if I didn't resign. In
+fact, the public need never know that I have accepted. Fancy! The police
+looking for the Second Assistant Secretary of the Navy as a fugitive
+from justice! Why, the papers will be full of it. But that doesn't help
+me with Steadman. I've got to force this fellow here to give up. Tell me
+something to use as a lever."
+
+The man on the bed groaned loudly and elevated one knee high in the air.
+The girl hesitated, evidently torn between various conflicting claims of
+loyalty.
+
+"Tell him," she whispered after a moment--"tell him you know all about
+Shackleton and the Mercantile bonds. If that isn't enough, say you'll
+hand him over for the Masterson deal--that'll fetch him, but be careful
+and don't get him angry. He may not know where Steadman is, after all.
+But I heard him say that the gang had almost finished trimming Steadman
+and were going to finish him up to-night--at cards I think. They've
+gotten almost every cent he has already----"
+
+Sullivan gave a harsh cough and arose to a sitting position.
+
+"Shackleton--Mercantile bonds--Masterson deal," murmured Ralston to
+himself.
+
+"Huh! That you, Floss?" grunted Sullivan. "What are we doin' here?
+Where's the old woman?"
+
+"Sh-h! It's all right, Jim," said the girl. "We made a clean get-away.
+You came near running in the lot of us."
+
+"Whatcher talking about?" mumbled Sullivan. "'Bout 'getaways'?" Then he
+caught sight of Ralston. "Who's this feller?"
+
+"All right, Mr. Sullivan, I'm a friend of yours," said Ralston quietly.
+
+Sullivan looked fixedly at him for a moment without speaking.
+
+"I've seen you before," he muttered. "Somewheres."
+
+"Sure," said Ralston with a laugh. "You tried to do me up at 'The
+Martin' not over an hour ago."
+
+Sullivan glared at him.
+
+"You that feller?"
+
+"I am."
+
+"Whatcher doin' here?"
+
+"Same thing I was going to do at 'The Martin' if you'd given me the
+chance--have a talk with you."
+
+Sullivan looked puzzled and rubbed the back of his head. He had none of
+the resplendency of his earlier appearance.
+
+"Must ha' fallen an' hit my head," said he in an explanatory manner.
+"Say, did anyone _club_ me?"
+
+"No," said Ralston. "But you got a pretty rough deal."
+
+"Say," repeated Sullivan, "how'd you come to bring me to the old
+woman's?"
+
+"I had to take you somewhere," said Ralston. There was a pause of
+several seconds, during which Sullivan endeavored to readjust himself.
+
+"What's yer name?" he inquired.
+
+"Sackett," said Ralston.
+
+"Sackett," repeated Sullivan. "I don't know Sackett. What's yer
+business?"
+
+"Oh, I'm a detective," answered Ralston lightly.
+
+Sullivan started and clutched at the mattress.
+
+"Detective!" he muttered. "What d'yer want?"
+
+"I don't want anything," said Ralston. "I know quite a lot about you,
+Mr. Sullivan, but it stays where it is. All I want is a little help."
+
+"You go to hell!" growled Sullivan.
+
+"No--no!" replied Ralston. "Not yet. I want you to tell me where I can
+find Steadman. You see, his folks are anxious, and it's worth quite a
+little to me to locate him. It needn't interfere with any of your
+plans. Besides, I imagine you're about through with him, eh?"
+
+The color returned to Sullivan's face and he snarled angrily.
+
+"None of that to me, see? I am on to you, understand? You'd better get
+out of here, while you're still able."
+
+The girl, who had remained silent, now spoke again:
+
+"Be careful, Jim; this man can make trouble for us."
+
+Sullivan looked sharply at her, but evidently nothing about her
+appearance or speech excited his suspicions.
+
+"Mr. Sullivan," continued Ralston from his seat in the horsehair rocker,
+"I don't mean you any harm. In fact, I can do you a good turn now and
+then if you'll help me out. All I want is my coin for turning up this
+chap Steadman. I know he's no good. He's anybody's money. He's nothing
+to me. But it's all in my day's work. Now, don't think me disagreeable.
+I want Steadman, you want--well, you don't want certain little incidents
+of your career to get to the ears of the district attorney--the
+Shackleton bonds, for example. Now, don't be alarmed. I haven't the
+slightest intention of giving you away, but, come now, let's be on the
+level with each other."
+
+Sullivan cast an evil look at him.
+
+"You think you've got something on me, eh? Prove it! What bonds did you
+say?"
+
+Ralston saw that he had nearly made a slip.
+
+"Quite right," said he. "I said Shackleton bonds--I was _thinking_ of
+Shackleton. Of course I meant the Mercantile bonds. But if you have any
+doubt about my sincerity I might go into the Masterson matter----"
+
+But Sullivan was on his feet, his eyes staring, and his face as pale as
+it had been on the floor of "The Martin."
+
+"For Heaven's sake!" he implored.
+
+Ralston rose.
+
+"Come! Come! Is it a bargain? You help me and I help you. Where is he?"
+
+"I'll go with you," muttered Sullivan. "Where's my coat?" He looked
+around anxiously. There was no doubt as to the effectiveness of the
+reference to the Masterson case.
+
+"Get me a coat," he ordered of the girl. Florence Davenport left the
+room, leaving the two men facing one another--the criminal and the
+gentleman. It would have been hard to say which looked the more haggard.
+The light of the dim lamp made the rings around Ralston's eyes look like
+huge horn-rimmed spectacles, and his mouth was drawn to a thin line.
+Inside his head was beginning to sing and the corners of his lids to
+twitch. He knew the symptoms. He was beginning to "fade out." But he was
+getting warm now and he paid no heed to himself.
+
+The girl returned, bringing in her arms a pile of new silk-lined black
+overcoats. Ralston remembered the incident afterwards, but at the time
+it did not impress him. It is doubtful whether he knew definitely the
+meaning of the term--"a fence."
+
+Mechanically he selected a coat to fit him and Sullivan did the same.
+The Davenport girl put on the smallest.
+
+"Gimme a hat," said Sullivan.
+
+Again the girl departed and presently returned with an odd collection of
+old felt hats of various styles. Now, fully arrayed, Sullivan felt his
+way gingerly to the door. A pale gleam filtered through the grating. The
+bolt was shot back and Ralston found himself in the fresh morning air.
+
+A white, misty light filled the sky like a diaphanous, pulsating sheet.
+If you looked for it it was gone, but as you watched the opposite houses
+you knew it to be there. Night was struggling with the day, and the
+cohorts of darkness were barely in the ascendant. The tang of the breeze
+told the story, filtering in from the river. But the lamps showed
+brighter than ever. On his box the cabman slumbered, while his steed did
+likewise in cabhorse fashion.
+
+Sullivan reached up and shook the man roughly. Across the end of the
+street heavy vans were making their way eastward, filling the little
+niche in which they stood with a deafening clatter.
+
+"Drive up Broadway," ordered Sullivan.
+
+The cabman removed his hat, ran his finger around the sweatband and
+replaced it on his head.
+
+"Hully gee!" he repeated reminiscently. Several yanks were required to
+hoist the horse into a position appropriate to locomotion, and when
+action was achieved the animal started as if walking on eggs. Sullivan
+and Ralston took Miss Davenport in her black overcoat between them.
+Ralston could not tell whether the sky above was white or blue.
+
+Slowly they dragged out into Barrow Street and turned into Green Street.
+Once or twice they passed a lonely pedestrian or a stray policeman. Soon
+they saw the lights of the elevated structure at Jefferson Market and
+caught the moving windows of the trains. A line of truck wagons was
+moving slowly southward, the drivers sleeping, unmindful of their route.
+Milk wagons jangling from Hudson Avenue added a livelier note. There was
+a smell of morning everywhere.
+
+Suddenly Ralston knew he saw white and not blue above the housetops.
+The thought filled him with a nervous anxiety to lose no time, and he
+pushed up the manhole and ordered the cabby to make haste.
+
+"What do you think I am--a bloomin' steamboat?" inquired the cabby in
+sleepy wrath.
+
+They wheeled into Sixth Avenue and Ralston noticed that the surface cars
+which passed already had some passengers. Men were standing in twos and
+threes upon the street corners. Most of them were smoking clay pipes. He
+wondered what manner of men went to work at this hour. They passed
+Fourteenth Street and found many persons walking westward--at nightfall
+they would plod back. It was a long, long way to go to work. No one had
+spoken in the cab as yet.
+
+"Funny how small the city seems at night," said the girl.
+
+Although there was a germ of psychological truth in the remark, Ralston
+could think of nothing in reply. He had often noticed the same
+phenomenon. Of an afternoon, with Fifth Avenue crowded to the curbs, the
+distance from his club to Forty-second Street appeared immense. By night
+it seemed no more than a block or two. Now, as they rode northward in
+the graying light, the distances which his mental cyclometer ticked off
+seemed small and their pace inordinately slow.
+
+Sullivan had maintained a consistent silence. The Masterson affair had
+effectually put a quietus upon his belligerency. Ralston was overwhelmed
+with sleep. There was a weight behind each of his eyeballs that seemed
+forcing them downward and outward, and the humming in the back of his
+head had returned. A faint odor of violets and rice powder emanated from
+the overcoat beside him. Now and again the small head, with its piles
+of brown hair and old slouch hat, would begin to incline gradually and
+gently in his direction, only to be raised again when the brim of the
+hat touched his shoulder. He leaned his own head in the corner and
+closed his eyes.
+
+Instantly a heavy curtain, warm, fragrant, deliciously soothing, seemed
+drawn over him. He found himself talking to Ellen in Miss Evarts's
+drawing-room. He felt again the elation of his appointment, the
+gratefulness of appreciation. The man was painting in his name on the
+blackboard--the man in the yellow-and-black sweater, and he heard the
+crowd spelling it out and repeating it. Once again he experienced the
+thrill it had occasioned him the night before. He realized anew the
+extent to which his selection had brought him into the public eye--the
+influence which the success or failure of his appointment would have
+upon the Administration.
+
+The President had been already severely criticised for giving important
+places to comparatively young and untried men--men of the silk-stocking
+class--and the President had but a doubtful hold upon the people.
+Several canards had been started which, in the face of recent
+socialistic propaganda, had made considerable headway. The yellow
+journals were denouncing the war as imperialistic, as an excuse for an
+ambitious executive to play the part of a Cæsar or a Napoleon. They
+charged that he was surrounding himself with the rich and powerful, and
+their sons. He was contrasted with Lincoln and Jefferson. In a word, the
+Administration was in a ticklish position.
+
+Then upon Ralston's wearied brain flashed the picture of his meeting
+with Colonel Duer; the tawdry, tarnished environment of his search for
+the worthless Steadman; his arrival at "The Martin" at two in the
+morning; his open solicitation of a woman's acquaintance, and the
+consequent free fight in which, so far as the onlookers knew, he might
+have killed her companion; then, and most unpleasant of all, his flight,
+bearing away his victim with him. How could he explain _that_? Why, the
+thing must have been wired to every morning paper in the country. He
+could see the headlines:
+
+      ASSISTANT SECRETARY OF NAVY KILLS MAN
+
+      FIGHT AROSE OVER WOMAN IN RESTAURANT
+
+      A NEW SCANDAL FOR THE PRESIDENT TO HUSH UP
+
+He shuddered at the thought of it. If he gave himself up and declared
+that he had struck in self-defense, how could he explain having dashed
+away with the woman in a hansom? Where had he gone? _Why_ had he gone
+there? His lips were sealed. He _could_ make no statement without
+publicly avowing the whole object of his night's work--the necessity for
+finding Steadman, and Steadman's relations with Ellen. He saw column
+after column of interviews with himself, real and imaginary. The most
+sacred passages of Ellen's life would be made public property, dressed
+up to suit the editor's fancy, and sold on the corner for a penny.
+
+The possibility sickened him. There was nothing to be done but to resign
+and go away. In that way only could the Administration be relieved from
+a most embarrassing situation, and by no other means could Ellen be
+saved from the humiliation incident to a truthful explanation of the
+affair. Then, too, he must continue his search. He could not give it up
+now. He must find Steadman, even while a fugitive from justice himself.
+He _would_ find him.
+
+He opened his eyes. They were still following Sixth Avenue beneath the
+elevated tracks. It had grown brighter. Sullivan had lighted a cigar.
+Ralston found himself trembling with excitement. A sweat had broken out
+all over him. Across the way, on the opposite corner, he saw the lights
+of a telegraph office, and he raised the manhole and told the cabby to
+stop.
+
+"What's up?" inquired Sullivan, removing his cigar.
+
+"I've got to send a telegram," said Ralston unsteadily.
+
+Sullivan looked at him with suspicion.
+
+"You ain't givin' me the double cross, eh?"
+
+"I give you my word I'm not," replied Ralston. "It's only a matter of
+private business."
+
+"Guess it can wait, can't it?"
+
+Ralston smiled in spite of himself. He wished he could tell Sullivan the
+purport of this telegram which gave him so much anxiety. Simultaneously
+it occurred to him that it was undesirable to leave the cab even for a
+moment Sullivan might take it into his head to disappear.
+
+"Oh, well," he retorted, "it doesn't entirely suit my book to allow you
+a chance to side-step me either, so we'll settle it by letting Miss
+Davenport send the wire for me. In that way we can each continue in the
+other's company. Much more agreeable, of course. Miss Davenport, may I
+ask you to get me a blank from inside?"
+
+The girl sprang down and quickly returned with a sheaf of blanks and a
+pencil. Ralston scribbled on his knee a hasty message:
+
+      To the President, White House, Washington. Am forced,
+      after all, to decline appointment. See morning papers.
+      Am writing fully.
+
+      RALSTON.
+
+He handed her half a dollar and she reëntered the office.
+
+Now Miss Davenport was a young person wise in her generation. She had
+seen many men in many situations, and she realized that the man who had
+handed her this particular telegram was in a condition bordering on
+collapse. Had she seen fit to use a sporting term she would have said
+that Ralston was "groggy" with nervousness and excitement. In addition
+she was not devoid of the usual amount of feminine curiosity. At any
+rate, her first move was to read the telegram.
+
+"He's crazy!" she exclaimed under her breath. "Why, he doesn't even know
+whether they got his name! And Jim's all right." She turned the message
+over in her hand.
+
+"I guess that telegram _can_ wait. There won't be anything in the
+papers. The presses are locked at one o'clock."
+
+"Say," she remarked to the sleepy operator, "what's the rate to
+Washington, D. C.?"
+
+"Twenty-five for ten words, and two cents a word over."
+
+"Change that for me, will you? Let me have some coppers?"
+
+The man fished out the small change and went back to his accounts.
+
+Miss Davenport slipped the paper into her pocket and returned to the
+cab.
+
+"Nineteen cents change," she said, handing it to Ralston.
+
+"Where to?" asked the cabby mechanically.
+
+"West Forty-fifth Street," said Sullivan.
+
+They started on. The street lamps were fast paling beneath the dawn. At
+Thirty-third Street and Broadway a newsboy was hopping on the cars and
+shouting his items. A strange thrill of determination had seized
+Ralston. The die was cast now. There was nothing more to consider.
+
+"Here's your _Morning Journal_!" cried the boy as the cab swung by. "New
+Assistant Secretary of the Navy. Twelfth Regiment starts with a full
+quota of officers!" He waved his sheets at them.
+
+Inside the cab Ralston set his teeth.
+
+"I'll make it a full quota!" he muttered.
+
+They turned down Thirty-third Street into Fifth Avenue.
+
+"Look here," said Sullivan suddenly, "all I do is to show him to you,
+see? Understand, I don't get into no mix-up myself! My job ends when I
+give you the pass."
+
+"All right," said Ralston. "Just show him to me. That's all I ask."
+
+"All right," repeated Sullivan.
+
+They passed Forty-second Street and turned into Forty-fifth, just as the
+lights in the crosstown cars had been put out.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+The house before which they stopped was an old-fashioned brownstone
+front. A brownstone flight of steps with a heavy brownstone balustrade
+and huge, carved newel post of the same depressing material led to a
+pair of ponderous stained doors tight shut with the air of finality
+possible only to a brownstone side street. The shades on the four rows
+of windows of this impenetrable mansion were smoothly drawn. At the
+grated window in the area the lower half of a bird cage, just visible
+beneath the screen, was the only indication of occupancy. The whole
+aspect of the place was that of somnolent respectability. One could
+imagine the door being swung wide, the rug shaken, the broom making a
+fictitious passage through the vestibule, the curtains going up unevenly
+in the front parlor, the shades raised in the area, the canary thrilling
+in response to the shaking of the kitchen range, and _Paterfamilias_
+coming down the steps at about eight twenty-five in a square Derby hat,
+to go to his real estate office. This is what occurs at four homes out
+of five in this locality every morning from the first day of October to
+the first day of July.
+
+But no eye within the last ten years had beheld a shade raised in this
+particular establishment. The census taker had never entered its doors.
+No woman had ever passed its threshold. No child had ever played within
+its halls. Once a year a load of wines was deposited there and once a
+month a grocer's wagon paused outside. The coal was put in during the
+summer--forty tons, C. O. D. and five per cent off. The milkman was the
+only matutinal visitor, and the milkman left his wares upon the flagging
+of the servants' entrance. At eleven o'clock a colored man emerged from
+the area and departed in the direction of Sixth Avenue with a basket
+upon his arm. In half an hour he returned. This was the chief occurrence
+of the day. At seven in the evening two hansom cabs drew up before the
+door to allow four men to enter the house--also by the area. That was
+all, except that the ice wagon stopped daily, but the colored man took
+the ice off the hooks at the door.
+
+The visitors at the house arrived in cabs between the hours of eight and
+twelve P.M., and departed between the latter hour and five in the
+morning. There are forty similar _ménages_ north of Thirty-third Street
+and east of Long Acre Square.
+
+"He's in here," said Sullivan. "But I ain't goin' inside."
+
+"You're not, eh?" remarked Ralston. "Very well, we stay here together
+then until he comes out--and then you go down to headquarters with
+_me_."
+
+"Look here, Sackett," whined Sullivan, "how can I go in? They'd see me
+and know I'd sold 'em out. I can't do it. It would finish me. Don't be
+unreasonable."
+
+"Well, how do I know he's here?" asked Ralston. "Don't be unreasonable
+yourself."
+
+"Well, I _know_ he's here," said Sullivan. "I tell you what I'll do.
+I'll go into the hall, and when you're satisfied I ain't givin' you the
+double-cross, I'll slip out. Suppose I showed you Steadman, that would
+satisfy you, wouldn't it?"
+
+"It certainly would," said Ralston.
+
+Sullivan looked up and down the street and then clambered out in a
+disjointed and rheumatic fashion.
+
+"I'm sorry, Miss Davenport, I can't let you have the cab," said Ralston.
+"I shall need it--I hope."
+
+Sullivan was on the sidewalk, looking at the house.
+
+The girl suddenly seized Ralston's hand.
+
+"Mr. Ralston," she said, "be careful while you are in that house. Don't
+mention a word of what I've told you about Sullivan. They're a reckless
+lot. Watch yourself and them. Play it easy, and good luck to you. Some
+time, I hope, I'll see you again."
+
+Ralston pressed her hand.
+
+He climbed down.
+
+"Where to?" mumbled the cabby.
+
+"Stay right _here_ until I come out--if it's six hours!" directed
+Ralston.
+
+The dawn was flushing the chocolate-colored fronts before them and a
+milk wagon was working gradually down the block. Ralston felt weak in
+the knees, but he pounded his feet on the pavement and stepped quickly
+after Sullivan, who had started up the steps.
+
+"I needn't warn you that there must be no funny business, Sullivan,"
+said Ralston, as the other fumbled in his trousers pocket. "Our bargain
+holds. Your life for mine and Steadman's."
+
+"You needn't worry," replied Sullivan. "Homicide isn't in our business.
+I wish I could turn Steadman over to you bound hand and foot, but I
+can't. You've got _him_ to deal with. The rest is easy. The gang's
+pretty near through with him. But you've got to handle _him_ yourself."
+
+Sullivan inserted the key and turned the handle of the door, which swung
+open as if on greased hinges.
+
+As Ralston crossed the threshold it occurred to him forcibly that
+although the house in which he now stood was not over three blocks from
+his lodgings, and that his round-the-clock chase had brought him, like a
+man lost in the woods, back almost to his starting point, the fact that
+he had actually struck Steadman's trail at all, to say nothing of having
+run him to earth, was in itself no less than a miracle. Fate had
+certainly favored him upon the one hand, if it had dashed his hopes upon
+the other. He was the same Ralston that had jumped into the same cab
+just around the corner some seven hours before, but in that short
+passage of time the current of his existence had gone swirling off in an
+entirely unexpected direction. The hopes and ambitions of the evening
+had faded to fair dreams lingering on after a disappointing awakening.
+Apart from his utter exhaustion a pall had fallen upon his spirit--he
+had become undervitalized physically and psychically. He did not care
+what might happen before he regained the street, and he knew that almost
+anything might happen. The gamblers had been in an ugly mood for a long
+time. Yet he knew that his hold on Sullivan, fictitious as it was, was
+for the time being a sure one. Moreover, the experiences of the night
+had not lessened his confidence in his capacity to handle any new
+situation as it might arise.
+
+Sullivan now addressed himself to the inner door, which opened as easily
+as its predecessor, and an old-fashioned hall disclosed itself before
+them. On the right a pair of heavy _portières_ concealed the entrance to
+what was, or at least some time had been, the drawing-room. The usual
+steep flight of carpeted walnut stairs ascended to the usual narrow
+hallway on the second floor. A massive walnut hatrack supported a huge
+mirror and a collection of Inverness coats and tall hats. A bronze gas
+chandelier burned brightly, and a colored man lay extended at full
+length upon the floor with his head resting upon the bottom stair. The
+air was close and heavy and filled with the thin blue smoke of distant
+cigars. Apart from the audible repose of the negro the house was as
+silent as a New England Sabbath morning.
+
+Sullivan strode toward the recumbent figure upon the floor and
+administered a stout kick, at which the sleeper suddenly raised his head
+and drew up his knees.
+
+"Here you, Marcus, wake up!" growled Sullivan. "Where's Mr. Farrer?"
+
+The negro rubbed his eyes and gazed stupidly at the two figures before
+him without replying.
+
+"Where's Mr. Farrer?" repeated Sullivan.
+
+Marcus pointed over his shoulders and up the stairs.
+
+"He's in de back room, boss."
+
+"Who's up there?"
+
+"Jes' a single game--five gen'lemen."
+
+"How long they been playin'?"
+
+"Couple days, Ah reckon."
+
+"How long have you been asleep?"
+
+"Couple days, Ah reckon, boss," repeated Marcus.
+
+"Is Mr. Steadman up there?"
+
+"He de gen'leman they calls Mr. X?" asked Marcus with more interest.
+
+"I think so," answered Sullivan.
+
+"Yes, sir, he's up dere. Say, boss, what day is this?" asked Marcus.
+"Sunday, ain't it? We began playin' Satudy, but Ah reckon Ah done got
+'fused 'bout de time."
+
+But Sullivan did not reply. Instead he turned to Ralston and said:
+
+"Look here, I don't see any way out of my having to introduce you to the
+game. After I've done that you'll have to manage the thing for
+yourself."
+
+He started laboriously upstairs. Marcus returned to his previous picture
+of elegant repose. At the top of the first flight they turned and,
+passing along the hall, ascended another. The smoke grew thicker as they
+progressed. The only light came from the gas brackets, for the skylight
+over the wall was draped with a sheet of black cloth. At the top of the
+second flight Ralston caught the faint click of chips.
+
+"It's up to you," said Sullivan, "if you want to go in."
+
+"I'll take the responsibility," answered Ralston, but his heart began to
+beat faster, a phenomenon he attributed to the fact that there was no
+elevator.
+
+At the top of the last flight they paused. The sound of chips and low
+voices came distinctly from beneath the door of the room in the back.
+Then followed a pause, during which some one cursed his luck loudly.
+
+Sullivan pushed open the door and Ralston entered at his elbow. At first
+he could see nothing, owing to the thick haze that hung like a cloud
+throughout the room. Then he made out the figures of five men in their
+shirt-sleeves seated at a medium-sized table. These started to their
+feet at the interruption, and one of them, larger than the others, cried
+out:
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+"It's only me--little, tiny me," said Sullivan with a laugh. "I've
+brought a new come-on that thinks he knows the game. Can you let him sit
+in?"
+
+Ralston was watching Sullivan narrowly for the first sign of betrayal,
+but it was clear that Sullivan was living up to his bargain.
+
+A drawling voice came from the table. "Five's the gambler's game--we're
+nearly through, anyhow."
+
+The tall man hesitated.
+
+"We're nearly through, as Mr. X says," he remarked, not impolitely.
+"It's quite late. Of course, if you're a friend of Sullivan's----"
+
+"Oh, let me take a stack. I've made a night of it and I want to get my
+bait back. I guess I've still got the price," said Ralston. He pulled a
+roll of bills from his pocket.
+
+"Well," said the other, "gamblers' rules. This is an open game. I'm
+afraid he's entitled to come in. Goin', Sullivan? Well, so-long. Close
+the door after you."
+
+"So-long, Sackett," said Sullivan.
+
+"Good-by!" said Ralston, with emphasis. "We're quits, aren't we?"
+
+"Sure," replied Sullivan.
+
+"Let me present you to the company," said the tall man. "My name's
+Farrer. I guess you've heard of me. These are my friends, Messrs. Brown,
+Jones, and Robinson, and Mr. X. Your own name is Mr. ----?"
+
+"Sackett," said Ralston.
+
+"All right, Mr. Sackett. We were just about goin' to pull out, but we'll
+hold the game open for you for a few minutes, just to give the boys a
+chance to even up. No, we're not playing dollar limit. The lid's off.
+But just out of respect for the cloth we don't go above a thousand at
+one clip. Take a full stack? Amounts to exactly forty-nine hundred and
+seventy-five. Brown, a thousand; yellow, five hundred; blue, one
+hundred; red, fifty; white, twenty-five and the blind."
+
+"Thank you," said Ralston, with a slight leap of the heart, as Farrer
+pushed over the little pile of ivory counters. "If you don't object I'll
+take off my overcoat for luck."
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+Ralston removed his dress coat and seized the opportunity for a rapid
+glance around the room. Farrer had retaken his seat and the others were
+moving over to make room for an extra chair. The curtains, tightly
+drawn, repelled the eddying smoke, which slowly drew toward the
+fireplace.
+
+Ralston had no time to study the men about him. He had recognized
+Steadman immediately, but it was apparent that Steadman himself was in
+no condition to recognize anybody. The boy sat limply in his chair with
+his head down and his eyes rolled toward the ceiling, apparently
+incapable of speech or action, yet suddenly returning to life and to
+complete lucidity at irregular intervals. Farrer he knew by reputation.
+The other three men were probably professional card sharps masquerading
+under the guise of men about town. Of what he should eventually do
+Ralston had no clear idea. It was obvious that the gang were not yet
+through with Steadman, and, moreover, that until Steadman wanted to go
+away he would stay where he was. He must fight for time and await his
+opportunity.
+
+Farrer sat with his back to the door, the two chairs to his left being
+occupied by the gentlemen introduced as "Brown" and "Jones." Next to
+them and facing Farrer came Steadman, with "Robinson" between him and
+Ralston, who sat immediately to the right of Farrer and filled the last
+seat. He thus had one of the most advantageous places at the table.
+
+"Deal out," said Farrer to the man on his left. "It's getting late. Ante
+up, boys. I have a hunch that something is coming my way this time."
+
+The dealer dealt rapidly round, using, Ralston was particular to notice,
+the same cards which had been laid on the table when he entered. It was
+clear that a pack "stacked" for five could not be used for six, and
+Ralston, picking up his hand and finding he had three jacks pat, pushed
+in his white chip.
+
+"I'll draw cards," said he quietly. All came in except Steadman, who
+threw his cards down upon the table with an oath.
+
+The dealer handed the remaining two men three cards each, Ralston took
+one, Farrer three, and the dealer one. Although our novice did not
+improve his hand, he raised a fifty-dollar bet made by the man upon his
+right by a blue chip. Farrer dropped out and the dealer raised Ralston
+another blue. The other two men dropped, and Ralston "saw" the dealer,
+who threw down a busted flush.
+
+"Good work, old man!" exclaimed Farrer. "You're no sucker. Deal for Mr.
+X, there, Robinson."
+
+"I can deal for myself, thanks," remarked Steadman, and indeed he
+managed to do so surprisingly well.
+
+This time Ralston held nothing and declined to play, while Steadman won
+a small amount with two large pair. Each man had lying before him a pile
+of greenbacks held in place by a heavy paper weight of brass surmounted
+by an ash receiver, Steadman's pile being composed almost entirely of
+one-thousand-dollar bills.
+
+Presently Ralston found himself holding three queens on the deal and
+filled on the draw with a pair of nines. The cards had been running
+low, and he had already won in the neighborhood of twelve or thirteen
+hundred dollars. The three queens following his three jacks struck him
+as rather a coincidence, and betting merely a white chip he watched the
+others to see what would happen. To his surprise all dropped out but
+Steadman, who had drawn but a single card and who raised him a blue
+chip. Ralston now raised in his turn a like amount, and Steadman, there
+now being nearly five hundred dollars on the table, raised him a yellow.
+But Ralston, feeling confident of his position, pushed in a brown--the
+first thousand-dollar bet he had ever made. The gamblers were watching
+them with interest.
+
+"I win," said Steadman, shoving over a brown chip and throwing down a
+flush. "All sky blue."
+
+"Sorry," answered Ralston, "three ladies and a little pair."
+
+"Curse the luck," growled Steadman. "One more hand and I quit."
+
+"Quit?" cried one of the men. "Why, the game's young yet. Nobody's won
+or lost anything to speak of. Don't go _now_! Mr. Sackett wants to play
+and he's got a lot of our money. We're entitled to our revenge."
+
+"I didn't ask him to play," mumbled Steadman. "I'm sick of the game and
+I don't feel just right. I feel sort of sick. I'm only goin' to play one
+more hand."
+
+"All right! Jack pot!" cried Farrer cheerfully. "It's a house rule. Jack
+pots on all full houses containing the royal family. A 'palace pot' we
+call it. Give us a new pack."
+
+One of the men leaned back and reached down a new unopened pack from a
+side table. The cards they had been playing with were red. These were
+blue and the revenue stamp was unbroken. But a new pack on a
+declaration that the game was going to end struck Ralston as curiously
+unnecessary. The air in the room was beginning to make his head swim,
+and a glance at his watch disclosed that it was half after five. It was
+time for him to get Steadman away, but how to do it?
+
+"Hundred-dollar ante," said Farrer, shuffling the cards ostentatiously
+and dealing himself a jack. They each put in a blue. Steadman was
+helplessly fumbling his chips, counting and recounting them. Silence
+fell upon the table as Farrer tossed the cards accurately to each
+player.
+
+As the last cards were being dealt Steadman's fifth card struck his
+glass, balanced, and fell slowly over. It was a deuce of hearts.
+
+"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Farrer apologetically.
+
+"Hang you!" escaped from one of the others, and Ralston saw that the
+man's hands were trembling.
+
+"I won't take that card," said Steadman, awaking suddenly as out of a
+trance. "It's no good. Gimme another!"
+
+Farrer flushed.
+
+"I'm sorry, you'll have to take it. It's on the deal, not the draw. The
+rule is as old as the game."
+
+"I say I won't take it," snarled Steadman. "I haven't seen my hand. I
+won't take it. I'll stay out, but I won't pick up that card--it's no
+good." He gave a silly laugh.
+
+One of the other men sprang to his feet.
+
+"You've got to take it," he cried. "You can't refuse it. You've got to
+abide by the rules."
+
+"Sit down, you fool!" shouted Farrer, almost losing control of himself.
+"Who's running this game? Mr. Steadman can't have another card. He can
+look at his hand, and if he wants to stay out he can, but he's got to
+play the cards he's got. Pick up your hand, old man. Don't let's get
+upset over a little thing like that. Why, it may be the very card you
+want."
+
+But Steadman's obstinacy was aroused.
+
+"I won't do either," said he. "_You_ can't make me play. I can stay out,
+can't I? I can forfeit my ante. That's my own business, ain't it? Well,
+I'll watch you fellers play for once. What's a blue chip!"
+
+"You fool!" broke in one of the others. "Why don't you look at your
+cards? Don't throw away a hundred dollars like that! Here, if you're so
+proud, I'll look at 'em for you--and stay out."
+
+He reached for the cards, but Steadman struck his hand away.
+
+"Touch those cards if you dare!" he shouted, his eyes glaring. "Leave my
+cards alone!"
+
+"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" exclaimed Farrer soothingly. "Of course, Mr. X
+can refuse to play if he likes. It's his privilege. Won't you change
+your mind? Well, take out your chip--nobody objects. Count it a dead
+hand."
+
+"My chip stays in and I stay out," muttered Steadman.
+
+Ralston saw a furtive look pass between two of the others. Farrer dealt
+the remaining cards and picked up his hand, grunting as he looked at his
+cards. The man next him swore softly.
+
+"I can't open it," he growled.
+
+"Nothin' doin'," said the second gambler.
+
+Steadman remained staring at his deuce of hearts.
+
+"By me!" remarked the third gambler. Then Ralston picked up his hand.
+He felt as he used to feel when under the student lamp in his college
+room he had calculated the chances of filling a bobtail straight as
+against a four flush. The others were watching him eagerly. Four jacks
+closely backed one another in his hand. He could hardly suppress a grin.
+
+"Ye-es, I'll open it," he remarked hesitantly. He toyed with the yellows
+and the browns. Then his fingers slipped across the pile. "I'll let you
+all in easy," he said affably, "for a little white seed."
+
+The gambler across the table bit his lip.
+
+"Well, I'm in!" exclaimed Farrer with an affectation of
+light-heartedness. "It's just about my limit."
+
+The other three pushed in their chips without comment. Each of them took
+one card. Ralston took one. Farrer took four.
+
+"Ah!" sighed the latter, half to himself.
+
+"Well, this looks pretty good to me," said the first gambler with a
+slight smile, pushing in a brown chip.
+
+The second gambler pursed up his lips and shrugged his shoulders. "Suits
+me, too," he remarked good-naturedly, "I'll up you a thousand."
+
+He contributed two brown chips with great deliberation. Steadman was
+giggling foolishly.
+
+"Where would I have been?" he gibbered. "The tall grass wouldn't have
+hidden me."
+
+The third gambler now came into the game. It appeared that he, also,
+thought highly of his hand, for he raised both his comrades by a brown
+chip.
+
+"One, two--and back again!" he murmured. "I've got you pinched. Only six
+thousand in the pot--and four aces will take it all! Come right in, Mr.
+Sackett, the water's warm." They watched him covetously.
+
+"Oh, I don't know," answered Ralston with deliberation. "I have one or
+two cards myself. They look pretty good to _me_! But then I'm not used
+to the game. I wonder if you'd stand a raise." He picked up four brown
+chips and counted them slowly. They eyed him, hardly breathing. Then
+Ralston laid the chips back on the table.
+
+"No," said he regretfully. "It's too high for me. Here are my openers,"
+and he threw down his hand face upward on the table.
+
+"Four j-jacks!" stammered Steadman, rubbing his eyes. "Four j-jacks!"
+
+The others, with the exception of Farrer, had arisen and stood glowering
+at Ralston.
+
+"What's this?" exclaimed Farrer harshly.
+
+"What's your game?" cried another.
+
+"Nothing, gentlemen. I lie down. That's all. It's my privilege."
+
+The gambler ground his teeth and placed his cards on the table.
+
+"Aren't you going to finish the game?" asked Ralston with elaborate
+sarcasm.
+
+"Of course we are," shot back Farrer. "Only to see a man do a damn fool
+thing like that is enough to bust up any game." He looked at his cards.
+
+"I'm out," he added shortly.
+
+The first gambler did not seem to regard his hand any longer with favor,
+for he "dropped" immediately. So also did the second, and the third drew
+the chips toward him, no cards having been disclosed.
+
+Steadman was still giggling feebly.
+
+"I say," he mumbled again, "you _are_ easy! Four jacks! O my! O----"
+
+"Do you think so?" inquired Ralston politely, as he reached quickly
+across the table and, picking up the first gambler's hand, turned it
+over. The man grabbed for the cards, but he was an instant too late.
+Four aces lay under the gaslight.
+
+"Not so easy, eh?" continued Ralston. "Pretty good judgment, it seems to
+me. I'll have my ante back, if you please," and he replaced one of the
+blue chips on his own pile. "It requires more nerve to lay down four
+aces than four jacks."
+
+The men stared at him without speaking, and Farrer arose abruptly.
+
+"I supposed I was in a respectable game," he announced with severity.
+"If you gentlemen," turning to Ralston and Steadman, "will step
+downstairs I will adjust matters with you. As for you," addressing the
+other three, "make yourselves scarce and never come into my house
+again." They moved slowly toward the door.
+
+"Don't worry on our account, Mr. Farrer," remarked Ralston suavely. "I'm
+sure the matter was merely a coincidence. Seeing a man lie down on four
+jacks is enough to account for any apparent little irregularity." But,
+before he had finished, the three, closely followed by Farrer, had
+departed. Then Ralston looked over to where Steadman was sitting with a
+smile of utter lassitude.
+
+"We were well out of that, I fancy," said he.
+
+"I wonder what _I_ had?" answered Steadman dreamily. He fumbled
+unsteadily for his hand and turned it over card by card.
+
+The first was a deuce of spades.
+
+"Oh!" he remarked, "a pair of 'em, anyhow."
+
+The next was a deuce of diamonds, and the last a deuce of clubs.
+
+Steadman looked stupidly around the table.
+
+"Four little twos!" he muttered. "And _you_ had four knaves and he had
+four aces. I guess there's a special Providence looking out for _me_.
+Say, what won that pot, anyway?"
+
+Farrer suddenly reappeared at the door.
+
+"Here's your money, gentlemen," he remarked, counting the chips in front
+of each of them and throwing down the appropriate number of bills.
+"Sorry to have the game broken up in such a way, but these sharps get in
+everywhere. I hope you won't mention the incident. I have a very fine
+line of patrons and nothing of the kind has ever occurred before."
+
+As he turned away Steadman raised his eyes and looked the gambler full
+in the face.
+
+"Farrer," said he, "you've robbed me--you and your gang. Some time I'll
+make you pay for it, you--thief!" Then the fire died as suddenly as it
+had come, his head dropped forward listlessly, his eyes rolled
+ceiling-ward, and he fell to mumbling and muttering to himself. Ralston
+sprang to his side, as Farrer slid through the door.
+
+"I'm Dick Ralston," he said. "Don't you recognize me?"
+
+Steadman gazed at him stolidly.
+
+"Rals'on?" he muttered. "Rals'on? So you are! I guess you are. Why not?
+What of it?"
+
+He put his head on his arms and leaned them against the table top.
+
+Ralston grasped him by the shoulder and shook him roughly.
+
+"Pull yourself together!" he cried. "You must get out of here quickly."
+He shook Steadman again.
+
+"Don't you understand?" he said sharply. "Your regiment leaves in an
+hour. _Your regiment!_ Your company!"
+
+Steadman looked at him dully. A burned-out cigarette hung from his under
+lip by its own cohesive ability.
+
+"Rats!" he muttered. "I've chucked all that. Regiment can go for all of
+me unless it wants to wait."
+
+"You fool!" shouted Ralston. "Don't you see it's the end of you if you
+don't go!"
+
+"The end's come already! I'm a dead one now!"
+
+"Get up there!" returned Ralston. "I'll put you at the head of your
+company in forty minutes. Get up, I say."
+
+"Don't be an ass, Rals'on!" snarled Steadman. "I'll do as I choose. I
+tell you it's too late!"
+
+"It's nothing of the kind. Why, man, your uniform's all ready for you.
+They haven't started yet. Buck up!"
+
+"You seem awful interested, it strikes me."
+
+"Never mind that. Just be thankful some one cared enough to give you the
+tip. Come on now."
+
+"I tell you it's too late. How the hell can I go--to _war_?" Steadman
+laughed in a sickly fashion.
+
+Ralston's heart sank and his gorge rose. Had he sacrificed his future
+for a cad like this? And was he going to fail besides?
+
+"You miserable snipe!" he cried, for an instant utterly losing control
+of himself.
+
+"You shan't--insult me!" chattered Steadman, rising unsteadily to his
+feet. In a flash Ralston perceived the possibilities of the situation.
+
+"You're a coward, Steadman!" he cried. "A welcher!"
+
+Steadman's eyes glared wildly. "I'll kill you for that!" he gasped.
+
+"Come on down and fight it out then, if you're a man," sneered Ralston,
+turning and making for the head of the stairs. Steadman groped his way
+after him along the wall.
+
+"Come on, you welcher!" taunted Ralston.
+
+With an inarticulate cry of anger, Steadman clasped the banisters and
+half slid, half stumbled to the entrance hall.
+
+"I'll fight you here!" he cried. "I'll kill you!"
+
+"No! No!" answered Ralston. "Outside."
+
+Marcus attempted to put on Steadman's coat, but the latter fought him
+angrily off. Then he staggered and nearly fell.
+
+"Oh, I'm sick!" he cried. "I can't see."
+
+"Catch him!" directed Ralston, springing to his side and guiding him
+across the threshold. They led him down the steps, hustled him across
+the sidewalk and into the hansom.
+
+"Where to?" inquired cabby automatically.
+
+"John McCullough's--drive like mad!" replied Ralston.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+"Keep away from me," muttered Steadman, as Ralston climbed into the cab
+beside him. "Keep away, or I'll kill you." His face had turned a livid
+yellow, and he lay limp against the cushions. The cabby started his
+horse round the corner into the avenue.
+
+"Steadman!" cried Ralston, sick at heart. "Steadman, old man! I
+apologize! I beg your pardon! Do you understand? I _apologize_. It was
+just a trick to get you out--away."
+
+"Ugh!" groaned the other.
+
+"Brace up! You'll be all right in a minute. All right--in a minute.
+Understand? Fit as a preacher!"
+
+"I don't know. I'm awfully sick!"
+
+They raced down the avenue in silence until, with a sharp turn, the
+hansom dashed into East Twenty-seventh Street and stopped with a lurch
+in front of a low red-brick house close to the corner.
+
+The clock on the corner church showed that he had less than an hour and
+a half as Ralston rushed to the steps and rang the bell. The door was
+almost instantly opened by a heavily built man with a pleasant Irish
+face.
+
+"Hello, Mr. Ralston!" he ejaculated.
+
+"Sh!" answered the other. "Get this man out quick and into the house.
+You've got to knock him into shape inside of ten minutes. He's at the
+end of a long one. Ten minutes, do you understand?"
+
+"Leave him to me," answered the matter-of-fact McCullough, then crossing
+to the cab, "Give me your arm, sir," he said to Steadman.
+
+"Leave me alone!" muttered Steadman.
+
+Without another word the Irishman put his arms around him, and, as if he
+were a child, lifted him to the ground, across the sidewalk, and into
+the house.
+
+Ralston followed and closed the door. Outside, the cabby fell asleep
+again and the horse stood with one hip six inches higher than the other
+and its head between its legs.
+
+"Hi there, Terry! Sthrip off the gent's clothes!"
+
+Another husky Irishman appeared from somewhere, and the two led Steadman
+into a sort of dressing room, where they speedily relieved him of his
+garments. Without a pause McCullough opened a glass door into a tiled
+passage at the end of which could be seen another door clouded with
+steam. First, however, he poured a teaspoonful of absinthe into the palm
+of his hand and held it to Steadman's face. "Snuff it up yer nose!" said
+he.
+
+Steadman seemed dazed. Like a half-resuscitated man he did as he was
+told, gagging and coughing.
+
+"Come here now," said Terry.
+
+Steadman walked quietly down the passage.
+
+"Only for a minute," said the bath man.
+
+He opened the door and shoved Steadman in, closing and locking it behind
+him.
+
+"That's all he needs," commented McCullough.
+
+"How long will you give him?"
+
+"Just five minutes. He didn't like the absinthe, did he?"
+
+Ralston laughed softly. He knew what twentieth century miracles
+McCullough could work.
+
+"Have you got a telephone?" he inquired.
+
+"Shure," answered Mac, leading the way to the office.
+
+Ralston lost no time in calling up the armory.
+
+"I want Clarence. Send him to the 'phone!"
+
+A wait of a couple of minutes followed.
+
+"Is that you, Clarence?"
+
+"Yassah."
+
+"Jump on a car and bring Mr. Steadman's uniform and valise to ---- East
+Twenty-seventh Street at once."
+
+When he returned to the passage Steadman was beating feebly on the glass
+door from the inside. Terry grinned and shook his head, holding up two
+fingers. The tortured one threw himself in agony into a steamer chair,
+only to leap instantly to his feet with an inaudible yell of pain.
+
+"Are you ready?" Terry inquired of his employer.
+
+"Shure."
+
+They threw open the door and each grabbed an arm of their victim,
+dragging him down the passage into the dressing room. Another door
+opened into a room in which was a large tank. Without ceremony the two
+Irishmen swung their glistening patient off the edge and into the water.
+Steadman shrieked, choked and splashed helplessly.
+
+"Down wit' him!" cried McCullough, and they forced him beneath the
+surface.
+
+"Ag'in!"
+
+Down he went.
+
+"Now up!" and they lifted him bodily up on to the floor once more, and
+yanked him streaming into the dressing room. Steadman's face was a
+bright red, but he walked to a corner, while the two Irishmen with two
+little towels gently blotted the water from his back, sides, and arms.
+His legs they left to take care of themselves.
+
+"Ready there!" cried McCullough, giving Steadman a sharp blow that sent
+him staggering across the room.
+
+"Back again!" yelled Terry, punching his victim in the chest with his
+open hand and sending him reeling toward McCullough.
+
+Then they threw themselves upon him, slapping him, banging him from side
+to side, pulling his ears, arms and nose until he holloed for mercy,
+tossing him from one to the other, and swinging him at full length by
+his hands and feet. Finally, they flung him helpless, red and gasping
+for breath, upon a table. Once more they slapped him until he glowed
+like a lobster, and then rubbed him down with alcohol.
+
+"On with his clothes!" shouted Ralston. "How do you feel, Jack, old
+man?"
+
+"All right!" replied Steadman weakly, with a grin. "How they murdered
+me!"
+
+At this moment the street bell rang and a middle-aged negro appeared
+with a valise, tin box, and chamois-covered sword.
+
+"Why, it's old Clarence!" ejaculated Steadman.
+
+The negro undid the valise and took out the olive-drab khaki field
+uniform. In a trice he had buckled and buttoned the delinquent officer
+into it. From the tin box came a campaign hat. Steadman fastened on the
+sword himself. There were tears of feeble excitement in his eyes.
+
+"Are you sure it's not too late?" he asked anxiously.
+
+"I've taken my oath to get you there," answered Ralston.
+
+"By George! You're a good fellow!" repeated Steadman. He held out his
+hand. "You've saved my reputation--I might almost say--my life."
+
+Ralston took the hand held out to him, the hand only a few moments
+before raised against him in anger. It was quite warm. McCullough had
+done his bit well.
+
+"You weren't yourself. You didn't realize--" he began, and stopped. The
+room swam before his eyes, and he groped for a chair. With the partial
+accomplishment of his object, and the consequent physical and mental
+relaxation, the fatigue of the pursuit and the nervous strain which he
+had been under took possession of him. He found the chair and sank into
+it, shutting out the light with his hand. Steadman called McCullough,
+who quickly brought him something to drink. Somewhat revived, Ralston
+staggered to his feet eager to escape from the warmth of the overheated
+room and to finish his task.
+
+"Come along, Steadman. We haven't much time. Less than an hour."
+
+"Poor old chap, you're done up!"
+
+"No, no; I'm all right. We must be getting along."
+
+"But we don't leave, you say, until seven!"
+
+"I know, but we must be getting along."
+
+"Where?"
+
+Ralston hesitated.
+
+"I'll tell you outside." He shuffled toward the door. Steadman followed.
+
+On the steps he turned toward Ralston inquiringly.
+
+"Ellen has been waiting," said the latter in a low voice, looking away.
+
+"What do you mean? Does she know?" asked Steadman in a whisper.
+
+"I don't know how much," replied Ralston. "She feared you were going to
+lose your chance--that you'd be done for, and asked me to try and look
+you up. She--she cares for you, I think."
+
+Steadman uttered a groan.
+
+"Oh, I'm a brute," he muttered.
+
+He looked anything but a brute in his olive-drab uniform, campaign hat
+and shining sword.
+
+"Come along," said Ralston, grabbing him by the arm. They took their
+seats in the hansom.
+
+"Where to?" asked the cabby monotonously.
+
+"The Chilsworth," said Ralston.
+
+Once more the exhausted animal climbed wearily up Fifth Avenue. A touch
+of yellow sunlight was just gilding the housetops on the left, and the
+street stretched gray and solitary northward.
+
+"You say she's waiting?" Steadman asked nervously.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"For how long?"
+
+"All night."
+
+Steadman shuddered.
+
+"How did you know where to look for me?"
+
+"I didn't."
+
+Ralston was beginning to feel the revivifying effects of the whisky and
+soda and the fresh morning air.
+
+"''Twas like looking for a needle in haystack,'" he hummed. "'Although
+the chance of finding it was small.' Not an easy job, my friend."
+
+"But I didn't know you were in New York!"
+
+"I'd only been back a few days."
+
+"And Ellen asked you to hunt me up?"
+
+"Ye-es."
+
+Again Ralston felt weary, awfully weary, and sleepy.
+
+"By George, you're a brick!"
+
+"Oh, don't mention it!" yawned this "finder of lost persons."
+
+"But why should you? You hardly knew me!"
+
+"Somebody had to do it."
+
+"And that somebody had to know _how_, eh?"
+
+"It would appear so. You'd concealed yourself pretty effectually for
+some time. Your friend the colonel was getting anxious, you know."
+
+"How on earth did you ever do it?"
+
+"Tell you some time," answered Ralston sleepily. "By the way, do you
+mind saying how long you'd been in that house?"
+
+"Three days."
+
+"And lost----?"
+
+"Twenty-seven thousand dollars."
+
+"No one seemed to know you gambled."
+
+"I don't. It was my first experience."
+
+"How long has this little expedition lasted?"
+
+"Two weeks."
+
+The Searcher glanced at his companion. Already the stimulus of the bath
+had succumbed to fatigue. The face was drawn and hollow; the eyes red;
+the mouth twitched. Ralston turned away, his old loathing and disgust
+returning in an instant.
+
+The driver turned into Fifty-seventh Street, and the sun jumped above
+the housetops. Suddenly Steadman burst into tears, sobbing in long-drawn
+hollow sobs like a wearied child, covering his face with his hands.
+
+"Come, come, buck up! This won't do!" exclaimed Ralston.
+
+"O God!" groaned Steadman tremulously. "I can't face her. Turn around!
+Anywhere!"
+
+"You shall see her!" answered the other. "And now!"
+
+Steadman wiped his eyes. His chest heaved convulsively. He had grown
+quite pale.
+
+"Don't make me!" he gasped.
+
+"You shall see her--as you are," repeated Ralston, "and thank her for
+having saved you from disgrace."
+
+Steadman said nothing more. The cab drew up before the door of an
+apartment house.
+
+"Here we are," said Ralston. "Get out!"
+
+Steadman hesitated.
+
+"Get out! Do you hear?" shouted Ralston, with anger in his eyes.
+
+Steadman obeyed, his companion following close behind him. Inside, a
+darky sat fast asleep by the elevator. Ralston rapped loudly upon the
+glass and the man moved, rubbed his eyes, and came stupidly to the door.
+
+"Take this gentleman up to Miss Ferguson's apartment," said Ralston.
+"I'll wait below for you. You can have just ten minutes, understand?"
+
+He returned to the sidewalk. The cabby had fallen asleep again. A
+feeling of intense loneliness swept over him. He longed to throw himself
+inside the hansom and rest his exhausted frame. His bones ached and his
+muscles seemed strange and raspy, and he kept himself awake by walking
+nervously backward and forward before the house. He could hardly keep
+his eyes from closing and his knees trembled as if he were convalescing
+from an illness.
+
+"I did it!" he repeated over and over to himself. "By George! I did
+it!--saved him for her. Only for me and he would be what he called
+himself--'a dead one.'"
+
+The sunlight in the street grew momentarily brighter. Milk wagons groped
+their way from door to door, the horses stopping undirected at the
+proper places, and starting up again in response to uncouth roars from
+the drivers.
+
+An elevated train rattled by at the end of the street, and some workmen
+in overalls, conversing loudly in a foreign dialect, hurried noisily
+past. A few maids unchained front doors, gave the rugs feeble flaps, and
+eyed Ralston curiously before going inside to resume their domestic
+duties.
+
+He found that he was walking in a circle. His brain had fallen asleep.
+He realized that he had been dreaming, but the dream was vague and
+indistinct. Then he heard the faint sound of distant music. A housemaid
+dropped her rug and ran toward the avenue. Two pedestrians turned back
+in the same direction. A driver jumped into his milk wagon and sent the
+horse galloping.
+
+Ralston listened. Yes, the music was getting louder. They were playing
+"Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by!" It must be the regiment on their way
+from the armory to the ferry. He looked at his watch with a lump in his
+throat. It was "good-by" for him as well as for Steadman. There was no
+longer any doubt. Perhaps he could get a commission. He'd go away,
+anyhow.
+
+A hastily formed group of spectators on the corner began to wave their
+hats. The band was very near. A squad of figures stepping briskly in
+time came into view, at their head the erect form of Colonel Duer. He
+could recognize the other members of the staff, the adjutant, the
+commissary, the quartermaster, the doctor--he knew them all. On the left
+trudged the chaplain.
+
+"Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by!"
+
+The drum major following the staff turned and swung his baton, then
+resumed his former position. By George, they were playing well! Ah! What
+a difference it made when it was real business. Just behind the band
+followed the field music, with old "Davie" carrying the drum.
+
+"Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by!"
+
+The drums passed and the fifers. Then at a little distance came the
+lieutenant colonel and his staff at the head of the first battalion,
+marching full company front down the avenue. Ralston's heart beat
+faster. That was where _he_ could have been. How well those boys
+marched; just like a parade, their yellow legs eating up--eating
+up--eating up--eating up the ground. The band had grown fainter. You
+could hear the chupp--chupp--chupp--chupp of the hundreds of feet. Eyes
+front! No one to look at them, but eyes front! This was business. How
+trim they looked, each man in his olive-drab uniform, leggings, and
+russet shoes. How set were the faces beneath the gray felt hats! How
+lightly they bore their heavy load of haversack, yellow blanket roll,
+canteen, and cartridge belt. How the sword bayonets at their sides
+clinked and threw back the light to the blue barrels of their
+Krag-Jorgensens!
+
+"Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by," came faintly from the distance. Still
+the yellow rows kept passing. The first battalion ended.
+
+Then a major appeared, walking alone, followed closely by a captain and
+first lieutenant. Ralston strained his eyes for the yellow line behind
+them. Ah, there they were! Good boys! Good boys!
+
+The even companies swung by until the battalion had passed.
+
+Then came another major at the head of the third battalion. The third
+battalion! The line swept across from curb to curb with a single man
+behind the major--a lieutenant. Company D! Steadman's! The major's face
+was set in a hard frown. Ralston laughed feebly. That was all right.
+He'd fix that. Just wait a few minutes. His captain would be there.
+
+The little crowd on the corner began to cheer. Another company came into
+view. They had the colors--the dear old colors. Ralston doffed his hat
+and held it to his breast, straining his glance after the flag. The
+pavement floated away from him and his eyes filled with hot tears. He
+could not see the lines of marching men, but stood staring at the corner
+beyond which the colors had disappeared.
+
+Overcome with utter exhaustion, he sobbed hysterically, grasping the
+iron railing at his side. In a moment he got the better of himself and
+brushed the tears hastily away. Then a hand was laid upon his shoulder
+and he turned to see Ellen, her own eyes moist, and her face pale,
+looking up at him.
+
+"Ellen!"
+
+"Dick!"
+
+That was all. At the end of the block the hospital corps with their
+stretchers were just passing out of sight. Steadman stood on the steps,
+leaning against the doorway. He grinned in a sheepishly good-natured
+manner at Ralston.
+
+"Well, I found him!" the latter managed to announce in a fairly natural
+tone.
+
+"So I see," answered Ellen, "and ready to report for duty."
+
+"Well, I guess I'll say good-by," said Ralston awkwardly. "You people
+can have the cab as long as the horse lasts."
+
+"No, you don't," said Steadman. "Remember you've agreed to put me at the
+head of my company. You haven't done it yet! Has he, Ellen?"
+
+"No, we intend to take you with us to the ferry," she answered with a
+smile.
+
+The word "we" sent a pang through Ralston's tired heart, and for an
+instant the sunlight paled before his eyes.
+
+"Come, jump in, both of you," said Ellen.
+
+She seemed very cheerful, and strangely enough, so did Steadman. Ralston
+wondered if when people cared like that just seeing each other again
+would have such a stimulating effect. For his own part he was too tired
+to speak. As they trotted slowly down Fifth Avenue Ellen and Steadman
+kept up a lively conversation. She admired his uniform, his sword, his
+belt; talked of the other men and officers she knew in the regiment, and
+of the chagrin of Lieutenant Coffin, when his captain should oust him
+from his temporary place at the head of the company. On Twenty-third
+Street, near Eighth Avenue, they overtook the regiment, and followed the
+remainder of the distance close behind the hospital corps. Then silence
+fell upon them. The actual parting loomed vividly just before them at
+the ferry.
+
+Crowds of people, mostly small tradesmen and persons living in the
+neighborhood, had already begun to collect and follow the troops toward
+the place of embarkation. Ahead, the band was playing "Garry Owen," and
+the colors blazed in the sunlight. The regiment looked like a field of
+yellow corn waving in the breeze. About a hundred yards from the ferry
+house a few sharp orders came down the line and the regiment halted--at
+"rest."
+
+Steadman looked at his watch.
+
+"Three minutes to seven," he said, snapping the case. "I guess the old
+man will drop when he sees _me_!"
+
+"Just in time!" murmured Ellen.
+
+"Drive along, cabby, to the head of the procession," added Steadman.
+
+There was plenty of space to allow the hansom to pass near the curb, and
+they drove slowly along past the three battalions to where the colonel
+and his staff stood waiting for the gates to be opened. The band had
+ceased playing. The men laughed and jested, watching the lone hansom and
+its three occupants with interest.
+
+At the stone posts by the entrance the cab stopped and Steadman shook
+hands with Ellen. The smile had gone from his face.
+
+"Good-by, Ellen--good-by!"
+
+"Good-by, John," she answered.
+
+Ralston had turned away his head.
+
+"Well, good-by, old man! Accept the prodigal's insufficient thanks.
+You're a brick, Ralston. Good-by!"
+
+Beside the hansom Steadman paused for an instant and looked up.
+
+"Don't forget what I said, Ellen! The fellow I spoke of is 'a prince.'
+Good-by!"
+
+He turned and walked rapidly to where the colonel stood talking to the
+chaplain. All the fatigue had vanished from his step as he drew himself
+up before his commanding officer and saluted.
+
+The staff had turned to him in amazement.
+
+"I report for duty, sir!" he said simply.
+
+The colonel stared at him for a moment.
+
+"Take your company, sir!" he replied tartly.
+
+Steadman saluted again, and grasping his sword ran down the line, while
+a wave of comment and ejaculation followed just behind him.
+
+At this moment a whistle blew inside the ferry house, and a porter
+slowly swung the gates open.
+
+The colonel drew his sword.
+
+"Attention!" said he, glancing behind him.
+
+"Attention!" ordered the lieutenant colonel.
+
+"Attention!" shouted the majors.
+
+As the regiment stiffened, Steadman stepped to the head of his company.
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Coffin," he remarked nonchalantly.
+
+"Good morning," replied the astounded lieutenant.
+
+Then as the order flew down the line Steadman drew his sword.
+
+"Attention!" he cried in a clear voice.
+
+Behind the staff the drum major held his baton in air, and the musicians
+stood with their instruments at their lips ready for the order.
+
+The colonel's eye flew down the line.
+
+"Forward--" he cried.
+
+Down came the drum major's baton. The band started "There'll be a Hot
+Time!"
+
+"--March!" concluded the colonel, and, turning front, stepped ahead.
+
+"Forward--march!" shouted the lieutenant colonel. The order was
+instantly repeated by the captains.
+
+The battalion came to shoulder arms and moved forward.
+
+"Horrard, Hutch! Horrard, Hutch!" howled the majors.
+
+"Urrgh! Uhh! Huh! Huh!" yelled the captains.
+
+Each company tossed its rifles into place, dressed down the line, marked
+step for a moment, and then flashed its hundred legs in unison to the
+band. The yellow field of corn once more wavered in the wind and blew
+slowly forward.
+
+Ellen and Ralston sat motionless in the hansom as the battalions tramped
+by. At the head of his company marching with drawn sword, his head
+slightly bent and his gaze straight before him, came Steadman, but his
+eyes sought them not. The hospital corps with their stretchers brought
+up the rear and disappeared through the gates. The commissariat wagons
+followed stragglingly. The band could be heard dimly in the distance.
+
+Then the whistle blew again and the man who had opened the gates ran out
+and closed them. The Twelfth had gone--with a full quota of officers.
+
+"The Chilsworth," said Ralston, through the manhole.
+
+The driver once more hitched the reins over the back of his moribund
+beast, and they started uptown.
+
+"Dick," said Ellen suddenly, in a whisper, "Dick!"
+
+He turned toward her inquiringly.
+
+"Yes, Ellen?"
+
+"I--I was mistaken last night," she said, coloring and looking away from
+him.
+
+"What do you mean?" cried Ralston, his heart leaping.
+
+"That--there was only one," she answered softly, smiling through her
+tears, "and--and--_it wasn't_ John!"
+
+The cabby grinned sleepily and silently closed the manhole, with a
+fatherly expression illuminating his corrugated countenance.
+
+"Hully gee!" he muttered meditatively. "I mighta known there was a woman
+mixed up in it, somehow! Glad he got her!--Git on thar, you!"
+
+Between the ferry houses the boat was swinging out into midstream, her
+decks crowded with yellow figures, and across the dancing waves the wind
+bore the faint strains of "Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by."
+
+
+
+
+NOT AT HOME
+
+
+    "For I say this is death and the sole death,--
+    When a man's loss comes to him from his gain,
+    Darkness from light, from knowledge ignorance,
+    And lack of love from love made manifest."
+          --_A Death in the Desert._
+
+
+"Harry might have stopped!" thought Brown, as a stalwart young man
+strode briskly past with a short "Good evening." "I've not had a chance
+to speak to him for a month." He hesitated as if doubtful whether or not
+to follow and overtake the other, then turned in his original direction.
+His delight in the scene about him was too exquisite to be interrupted
+even for a talk with his friend. Dusk was just falling. For an instant a
+purple glow lingered upon the spires of the beautiful gray cathedral
+whose chimes were softly echoing above the murmur of the city; then the
+light slipped upward and upward, until, touching the topmost point, it
+vanished into the shadows.
+
+All about him jingled the sleighbells; long lines of equipages carrying
+richly dressed women moved in continuous streams in each direction;
+hundreds of lamps began to gleam in the windows and along the avenue; a
+kaleidoscopic electric sign, changing momentarily, flashed parti-colored
+showers of light across the housetops; big automobiles, full of gay
+parties of men and women in enormous fur coats and grotesque visors,
+buzzed and hissed along; newsboys shrilly called their items; warm,
+humid breaths of fragrance rolled out from the florist's shops; and
+smells of confections, of sachet, of gasoline, of soft-coal smoke,
+together with that of roses and damp fur, hung on the keen air.
+
+The greatest pleasure in Brown's life, next to his friendship for Harry
+Rogers, was his continuously fresh wonder at and appreciation for the
+complex, brilliant, palpitating life of the great city in which he, the
+taciturn New Englander, had come to live. The richness of his present
+experience glowed against the somber background of his past, touching
+emotions hitherto dormant and unrecognized. He realized as yet only the
+mysterious charm, the overwhelming attraction of his new surroundings;
+and every sense, dwarfed by inheritance, chilled by the east wind,
+throbbed and tingled in response. So far as Brown knew happiness this
+was its consummation and it was all due to Rogers. As Brown wandered
+along the crowded thoroughfare his mind dwelt fondly upon his friend. He
+recalled their chance introduction two years before at the Colonial Club
+in Cambridge, through Rogers's friend Winthrop, and how his heart had
+instantly gone out to the courteous and responsive stranger. That
+meeting had been the first shimmer of light through the musty chrysalis
+of Brown's existence.
+
+Shortly afterwards he had given up his place in the English Department
+at Harvard at the suggestion of one of the faculty and accepted a
+position at Columbia. The professor had hinted that he was too good a
+man to wait for the slow promotion incident to a scholastic career in
+Cambridge, and had mentioned New York as offering immeasurably greater
+opportunities. The advice had appealed to Brown and he had acted upon
+it.
+
+He remembered how lonely he had been the first few weeks after his
+arrival. In that hot and sultry September the city had seemed a prison.
+He had longed for the green elms, the hazy downs, the earthy dampness of
+his solitary evening walks. One broiling day he had encountered Rogers
+on the elevated railroad. The latter had not recognized him at first,
+but presently had recalled their first meeting.
+
+Brown in his enthusiasm had spoken familiarly of Winthrop, explaining in
+detail his own departure from Cambridge and his plans for the future. He
+was nevertheless rather surprised to receive within a week a note from
+Mrs. Rogers inviting him to spend a Sunday with them at their country
+place. What had that not meant to him!
+
+At college he had taken high rank and was graduated at the top of his
+class, but he had made no friends. He would have given ten years of his
+life for a single companion to throw an arm around his shoulder and call
+him by his Christian name. He had never been "old man" to anybody--only
+"Mr. Brown." At night when he had heard the clinking of glasses and the
+bursts of laughter in the adjoining rooms as he sat by his kerosene lamp
+reading Milton or Bacon or "The Idio-Psychological Theory of Ethics," he
+would sometimes drop his books, turn out the light and creep into the
+hall, listening to what he could not share. Then with the tears burning
+in his eyes he would stumble back to his lonely room and to bed.
+
+When he had achieved the ambition of his college days and by
+heartbreaking and unremitted drudgery had secured a position upon the
+faculty, he had found his relations still unchanged. His shell had
+hardened. From Mr. Brown he had become merely "Old Brown."
+
+And then how easily he had stepped into this other life! The Rogers had
+received him with open arms; their house had become the only real home
+he had ever known; and his affection for his new friends had blossomed
+for him almost into a romance. Even when Harry was busy or away, Brown
+would drop in on Mrs. Rogers of an evening and read aloud to her from
+his favorite authors. He tried to guide her reading and sent her books,
+and little Jack he loved as his own child.
+
+The friendship, beginning thus auspiciously, continued for many months.
+Rogers put him up at the club and introduced him to his friends, so that
+Brown slipped into a delightful circle of acquaintances, and found his
+horizon broadening unexpectedly. Life assumed an entirely fresh
+significance, and although, by reason of a constitutional bluntness of
+perception, he failed utterly to discriminate between superficial
+politeness on the part of others and genuine interest, the world in
+which he was now living seemed to overflow with the milk of human
+kindness.
+
+Brown had been making afternoon calls. The friendly cup of tea was to
+him a delightful innovation, and he cultivated it assiduously. He paused
+in front of a large corner house and hopefully ascended the steps.
+
+"Not at 'ome," intoned the butler in response to his inquiry.
+
+He turned down a side street, but no better success awaited him. He had
+found no one "at home" that afternoon. Usually he had better luck. But
+it was getting late and almost time to dress for dinner, and, although
+Brown usually dined alone, he had become very particular about dressing
+for his evening meal. His heart was bursting with good nature as he
+sauntered along in the brisk evening air.
+
+This New York was a great place! There rose before him the vision of his
+little room in the Appian Way in Cambridge. Had he remained he would be
+just about going over to Memorial for his supper at the ill-assorted and
+uncongenial "graduates' table" to which he had belonged. Jaggers would
+have been there, and the Botany man, and that fresh chap, who ran the
+business end of _The Crimson_, and was always chaffing him about
+society. He smiled as he thought of the quiet corner of the club, and of
+the little table with its snowy linen by the window, which he had
+appropriated.
+
+In Cambridge he had passed long months without experiencing anything
+more stimulating than a Sunday afternoon call on a professor's daughter
+or an occasional trip into Boston for the theater, supplemented by a
+solitary Welsh rabbit at Billy Park's. Other men in the department had
+belonged to the Tavern Club, in Boston, or the Cambridge Dramatic
+Society, but he had never been asked to join anything, nor had he
+possessed the _entrée_ even to the modest society of Cambridge. He was
+obliged to acknowledge--and it was in a measure gratifying to him to do
+so, since it threw his success into the higher relief--that judged by
+present standards his old life had been an absolute failure. No matter
+how genial he had tried to be, he had elicited little or no response.
+The days had been one dull round of tramping from his meals to lectures,
+and from lectures to the library. Although he had had no friends among
+his classmates, he had at least known their faces, but after graduation
+he had found himself, as it were, alone among strangers. As time went on
+he had become desperately unhappy and his work had suffered in
+consequence.
+
+Then he had come to New York. As if sent by Fate, Rogers had appeared,
+sought his companionship, made much of him. He began to think that
+perhaps he had misinterpreted the attitude of his quondam
+associates--they were such a quiet, prosaic, hard-working lot--so
+different from these debonair New Yorkers. And was not the cane they had
+presented to him on his departure a good evidence of their esteem? He
+swung it proudly. How well he recalled the moment when old Curtis had
+placed the treasure of gold and mahogany in his hands and, in the
+presence of his colleagues, had made his little speech, expressing their
+regret at losing him and wishing him all success. Then the others had
+clapped and cheered and he had stammered out his thanks. The
+presentation had been a tremendous surprise. Well, they were a good
+sort; a little dull, perhaps, but a good sort!
+
+Then, too, he felt himself a better man for his association with Rogers
+and his friends. It was such a new sensation to be appreciated and made
+something of that he had grown spiritually broader and taller. It had
+been very hard in Cambridge, where he had felt himself neglected and
+passed over, not to be selfish and spiteful. His standards had
+imperceptibly lowered. He had "looked at mean things in a mean way."
+Here it was different. With genial, broad-minded associates he had
+become warm-hearted and liberal. His drooping ideals had reared their
+heads. He felt new confidence in and respect for himself. Now he looked
+the world squarely in the eye. His work was improving, and the faculty
+at Columbia had expressed their appreciation of it. Life had never been
+so worth living. No one, he resolved, should ever suspect how small and
+narrow he had been before. He would always be the cheerful, generous,
+kindly chap for whom everybody seemed to take him. He had become a new
+man by reason of a little human sympathy.
+
+"How busy people are!" he thought. "I guess I'll have another try at
+Rogers." He crossed the avenue, found the house, and rang the bell. The
+bay window of the drawing-room was on a level with where he stood, and
+he caught a glimpse of Mrs. Rogers sitting beside a cozy tea table, and
+of little Jack playing by the fire. The maid, slipping aside the silk
+curtain before opening the door, inspected the visitor.
+
+"Mrs. Rogers is not at home," she remarked.
+
+Brown was paralyzed at such open prevarication.
+
+"I--I beg your pardon. But I think Mrs. Rogers is in."
+
+"Mrs. Rogers is not receiving," curtly replied the maid.
+
+Brown, vanquished but unconvinced, turned down the steps. At the bottom
+he stopped with a quick breath and glanced back at the house. Then he
+gave his trousers leg a cut with his gold-headed cane, and with a
+courageous whistle started up the avenue again.
+
+He was a bit puzzled. He was sure he could have done nothing to
+displease his friends. It was probably just a mistake; they had
+visitors, perhaps, or the child was not well. He would call up Rogers on
+the telephone next day and inquire.
+
+He walked to the boarding house and in the little hall bedroom he called
+"his rooms" put on the dinner coat of which he was so proud. It had
+cost sixty dollars at Rogers's tailor. He had never owned anything of
+the sort before. When he had been invited out to tea in Cambridge, which
+had been but rarely, he had always worn a "cutaway."
+
+He found Tomlinson, the club bore, in the coat room, invited him to
+dinner, and insisted on ordering a bottle of fine old claret. Tomlinson,
+in his opinion, was most clever and entertaining. After the meal his
+companion hurried away to an engagement, and Brown, lighting a cigar,
+strolled into the common-room, drew an armchair into the embrasure of a
+window, and sat there dreaming, at peace with all the world. The kindly
+faces of Rogers, his wife, and little Jack mingled together in a drowsy
+picture above the fragrant smoke wreaths. The bitterness of his past was
+all forgotten. The poverty and loneliness of his college days, the
+torture of his isolation in Cambridge, the regret for his youth's lost
+opportunities faded from his mind, and in their place he felt the warm
+breath of love and friendship, of kindness and appreciation, and the
+tiny clasp of the hand of little Jack. "God bless them all!" he closed
+his eyes. It seemed as though the boy were lying in his arms, the little
+head pressed against his shoulder. He held him tight and kissed the
+curly hair; his own head dropped lower; the cigar fell from his hand;
+behind the curtain Brown fell fast asleep.
+
+Half an hour later into his dream floated the voices of Rogers and
+Winthrop. A slight draught of air flowed beneath the curtain. Some one
+struck a bell close by and ordered coffee and cigars, and the cracking
+of six or seven matches marked the number of those who had sat down
+together beside the window. He listened vaguely, too comfortably happy
+to disclose himself.
+
+"You've got a lot of college men, I hear, in the district attorney's
+office," remarked one of the group, evidently to Rogers. "How do you
+like the work down there?"
+
+"Oh, well enough," came the reply. "Trying cases is always interesting,
+you know. By the way, Win, speaking of college men, exactly who is your
+friend Brown?"
+
+The dreamer behind the curtain smiled to himself. "Rogers may well ask
+that," he thought.
+
+"Brown?" returned Winthrop. "You wrote me he was in New York, didn't
+you? Why, you must have known him in Cambridge. He was the great light
+of my class--don't you remember?--president of the 'Pudding,' stroked
+the 'Varsity, and took a commencement part besides. A kind of 'Admirable
+Crichton.' I'm glad you've seen something of him here."
+
+There was silence for a moment or two. Obviously, thought Brown,
+Winthrop was confusing him with some one else.
+
+"No, no!" exclaimed Rogers impatiently "_you_ mean Nelson Brown; but
+he's on a tobacco plantation down in Cuba. The man I speak of is a
+little chap with a big head and protruding ears. You introduced me to
+him at the Colonial Club a year ago last spring."
+
+"Oh, well, I may have done so," answered Winthrop. "I don't recall it I
+think there was a fellow named Brown who used to hang around there--but
+he's no friend of mine. Who said he was?"
+
+"Hang it! You did yourself, in your letter to me," came Rogers's retort.
+
+"Nonsense! I was writing about Nelson!"
+
+Rogers smothered an ejaculation more forcible than elegant, but his
+annoyance seemed presently to give way to amusement, and he laughed
+heartily.
+
+"Look here, boys, what do you think of this? Two years ago I run on to
+Cambridge, and while there happen to meet a chap named Brown. A year
+later he turns up on the Elevated and greets me like a long-lost
+brother. I mention the incident in a letter to Win. He replies that
+Brown is the finest thing that ever came down the pike. _He_ refers to
+_Nelson_ Brown. _I_ suppose he means _my_ Brown. Thereupon I take this
+unknown person to my bosom and place my home at his disposal. He
+promptly squats on the premises, drives my wife nearly frantic, bores
+all my friends to death, and in a short time makes himself an
+unmitigated nuisance. Fortunately, he hasn't asked me for money. Now,
+who the devil is he?"
+
+"Don't know him from Adam!" said Winthrop.
+
+"I know who he is," interjected one of the others. "Took a course of his
+on the 'Philology of Psychology' or the 'Psychology of Philology' or
+something. He's just an ass--a surly beggar--a sort of--of--curmudgeon!"
+
+The window curtain trembled slightly, but no one noticed it.
+
+"I can tell you rather a good story about Brown," spoke up a voice that
+had hitherto been silent. "You know I taught for a time in the English
+Department last year. Brown meant well enough, I guess, but he was an
+odd creature. His great ambition evidently was to get into society.
+Every Sunday he would put on his togs and call on all the unfortunate
+people he knew. Finally, everybody showed him the door. He got to be so
+intolerable that the department fired him, to our intense relief. No
+one cared what became of him--so long as he only went. But Curtis--you
+remember old Curtis with the white hair and mustache?--he felt sorry for
+Brown and thought we ought at least to make a pretense of regret at
+having him leave. He suggested various things, but his ideas didn't
+arouse any sympathy, and we thought that was going to end the matter.
+Not a bit of it. Curtis went into town, all alone, and, although he is
+rather hard up himself, bought a gold-headed mahogany cane for
+forty-five dollars, and next day, when we were all at a department
+meeting, presented it to Brown, from the crowd, and got off a whole lot
+of stuff intended to cheer our departing friend. Of course we had to be
+decent enough to see the thing through, and Brown took it all in and
+almost wept when he thanked us. A few days afterwards Curtis came around
+and wanted us all to contribute to pay for the cane."
+
+"Well!" responded Rogers. "Even my little boy knew there was something
+wrong with him the first time they met--children are like dogs, you
+know, in that way. Jack whispered to his mother while Brown was
+grimacing at him, 'Mamma, is that a gentleman?' Thought Brown was a gas
+man or a window cleaner, you know."
+
+"Poor brute!" commented Winthrop. "Anyhow, Harry, your mistake has
+probably given him a lot of pleasure. No wonder he seized the
+opportunity. You can drop him by degrees so that, perhaps, he'll never
+suspect. Still, if he's as thick as you say he may give you trouble yet!
+Hello, it's a quarter past eight already! We shall have to run if we
+expect to see the first act. Come on, fellows!"
+
+Half hidden behind the curtain in the window, Brown sat staring out into
+the night.
+
+Hour after hour passed; the servants looked into the deserted room,
+observed him, apparently asleep, and departed noiselessly. One o'clock
+came, and Peter, the doorman, crossed over and touched him gently on the
+shoulder, saying that it was time to close the club. Brown mechanically
+arose, followed Peter to the coat room, and then, with eyes still fixed
+vacantly before him, silently passed out.
+
+"You've left your cane, sir!" Peter called after him.
+
+But Brown paid no heed.
+
+
+
+
+A STUDY IN SOCIOLOGY
+
+
+"I move the case of the People against Ludovico Candido, indicted for
+murder," announced the assistant district attorney, addressing the
+court.
+
+"Bring up Candido," shouted the captain to one of the attendants.
+
+"Where's his lawyer?" inquired the clerk, glancing along the benches.
+
+"I haven't seen him since morning," answered the assistant.
+
+"Send to Mr. Fellini's office, at once," ordered the judge impatiently.
+"He has no business to delay the court."
+
+At this moment the door in the rear of the room opened to admit a small
+dusty-looking Italian, stumbling along in advance of a tall, muscular
+policeman, and clutching nervously in both hands a battered,
+brick-stained felt hat. He was an emaciated, gaunt little fellow of
+about forty-five, with a thin mustache, pointed nose, and wild, rapidly
+shifting brown eyes. Under his open coat a red undershirt, unbuttoned at
+the neck, disclosed his sinewy chest. The nondescript trousers, which
+reached only to his ankles, terminated in huge, formless, machine-made
+shoes, the original color of which had entirely disappeared in favor of
+a dull whitish-green streaked with red.
+
+He muttered beneath his breath as he saw the throng of strange faces,
+not knowing what was to happen next; but the attendant shoved him on
+without ceremony. Five years in America had taught him only twenty words
+of English, and for aught that he could tell this might well be the
+place of public execution. The rough, imperious lawyer who had consented
+to take his case on the instalment plan had not been to see him in over
+a week. This was because Maria had spent the first instalment on a
+little feast of chicken which she had cooked and brought to the Tombs in
+a newspaper for her husband, instead of taking the money to the
+attorney's office.
+
+As Candido was half dragged, half pushed to the bar, a plump,
+white-skinned, clean-shaven man in a surtout entered the court room and
+thrust his way forward. Suddenly the prisoner uttered a choking cry and
+sank trembling to his knees, his locked hands raised to the judge in
+piteous appeal, while the attendants strove unsuccessfully to lift him
+to his feet.
+
+"Madonna!" he cried in his native tongue. "O Madonna! I confess that I
+took the life of Beppe! _Salvatemi!_"
+
+The begoggled, piebald-bearded interpreter who had taken his stand
+beside the defendant began to translate in a dramatic, stilted
+bellowing.
+
+"He says: 'O Madonna, I confess----'"
+
+"Here! Stop him! Stop that! Tell him to keep still. That won't do,"
+interposed the assistant.
+
+The interpreter gesticulated at the Italian, chattering volubly the
+while. Candido, staring like a frightened animal, allowed himself to be
+placed upon his feet, and stood clinging to the rail.
+
+"Are you ready to proceed to trial?" sternly asked the court of the
+plump man in the surtout.
+
+"I am not, your honor," replied the man. "I have not been paid."
+
+Candido raised his hands in supplication. "_O giudice! Confesso_----"
+
+The lawyer glanced at him contemptuously. "Shut up, you fool!" he
+growled in Italian.
+
+"You have not been paid? That makes no difference. This is no time to
+throw over your client."
+
+"I do not represent the prisoner," replied the other stubbornly. "If
+your honor cares to assign me as counsel, I shall be pleased to do so."
+
+Candido, hearing the severity of the judge's tones, shook in every limb.
+
+"So that is your game!" exclaimed his honor wrathfully. "You have
+induced this man to retain you as his lawyer, in order that now, on the
+plea that you have not been paid, you may induce me to assign you as
+counsel, and thus secure the five-hundred-dollar fee allowed by the
+State. A fine performance! I order you to proceed to trial!"
+
+"Then I respectfully decline," retorted the other, turning toward the
+door.
+
+The judge bit his lips in well-controlled anger. "Mr. District Attorney,
+prepare an order at once and serve it upon this attorney to appear
+before me to-morrow morning and show cause why he should not be punished
+for contempt of court. I will assign ex-Judge Flynn to the defense.
+Adjourn court until to-morrow morning." The judge rose and strode
+indignantly from the bench, while the jurors surged toward the entrance.
+
+"Come on there," ordered the attendant. "You're goin' to get new lawyer.
+Lucky feller!"
+
+But Candido with a shriek threw himself on the floor, clutching at the
+feet of the officers. "Madonna! Madonna! Is it indeed all over? Have
+they ordered me to execution? _Salvatemi!_ Madonna!"
+
+The grizzled interpreter stooped down and muttered in his ear: "Courage,
+my countryman! Nothing has occurred. They are to give you a better and
+more learned advocate."
+
+Clinging to the arm of the attendant, Candido staggered toward the door
+leading to the prison pen. His face, ashen before, was now a dusky
+white. He understood nothing of this talk of advocates and adjournments.
+Let them but terminate his suspense. He was ready to expiate his
+offense. He had explained that to the lawyer. It was the will of God.
+
+Close to the wire gate stood a young Italian woman with a shawl thrown
+about her slender shoulders, her hand holding that of a little child.
+"_Ludovico! Ludovico mio!_" she cried passionately. "Is it over? What
+has happened?"
+
+Candido answered with a great gasping sob. "_Maria! Figlio mio!_ I do
+not know!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Candido sat at the bar by the side of the lawyer assigned to defend him.
+Over night in the Tombs he had been informed exactly what had been the
+meaning of the mysterious proceedings of the day before. The great
+advocate had intimated that there might still be a chance for him. After
+all, he had only killed another Italian, and American juries were
+merciful.
+
+The case, the assistant told the jury in opening, was simple
+enough--plainly murder in the first degree. Giuseppe, or "Beppe"
+Montaro, the deceased, and Ludovico Candido, the prisoner, had both
+come from the same town in Calabria and had been very old friends,
+although Beppe was the younger by some ten years. When Ludovico had
+sought his fortune in America, his wife Maria had remained behind; so
+had Beppe. Candido had been gone for five years, and had then sent for
+his wife. Beppe had come, too. In New York they all had lived together,
+Maria keeping house and taking a number of boarders. Then there had been
+a quarrel. The neighbors had said that Beppe did not always go out to
+work, or that sometimes he returned while Ludovico was away. One night
+Candido had closed the door in the face of his friend, who had sought
+lodgings elsewhere.
+
+It appeared that, the day before the homicide, Candido had purchased a
+revolver which he had exhibited to his wife. A neighbor later had
+overheard her crying, and had asked what was the matter, to which she
+had replied: "Ludovico has bought a pistol. I fear it is for Beppe!" The
+next Sunday evening the defendant and Montaro had met in a wine shop,
+walked to Candido's house together, and in front of the door had had
+violent words. Then the husband had shot the lover.
+
+It was as plain as daylight. There was the motive, the premeditation,
+the deliberation, and the intent. At the conclusion of the evidence the
+prosecution would ask for a verdict of murder in the first degree.
+
+Candido's eyes strayed away from the young prosecutor, furtively seeking
+the corner where Maria and the child were sitting. He could not see
+them, owing to the throngs of neighbors huddled upon the benches. There
+were Petulano the baker, Felutelli the janitor, little Frederico the
+proprietor of the wine shop, Condesso, Pettalino, and Mantelli, with
+their wives, their sisters, and friends.
+
+"Pietro Petrosino!" called the prosecutor. A lithe youngster slipped off
+the front bench smiling and made his way behind the jury box. The jury
+brightened instinctively as they caught sight of his picturesque figure,
+the round curly head, and the flush of the deep-olive complexion.
+Candido knew him for a gambler, cock-fighter, and worse. What plot could
+be brewing now? How did it come that this man was going to be a witness
+against him? How had the prosecution got hold of him?--this scum from
+Sicily, this man who knew less than nothing of the affair.
+
+Pietro's black eyes sparkled innocently as he took the oath and threw
+himself gracefully across the armchair on the platform, the center of
+collective observation.
+
+_O Dio!_ He knew the defendant, yes, to his cost, he knew him! And
+Beppe, also. Alas! Poor Beppe! A fine statue of a man, a good man, a
+peaceable man! He also had been with them in the wine shop when the two
+had talked together apart from the others. No doubt Candido had had the
+pistol in his pocket at the very moment. They had whispered between
+themselves, their heads close together, "_like one who is being
+shriven_," and Beppe had kissed the hand of Ludovico in friendship.
+Ludovico had returned the caress. Then the three had walked homeward,
+and from the darkness of the hallway Candido had shot out at Beppe--shot
+him _come un sacco_ (like a bag). Pietro illustrated, taking the part of
+Beppe. He whispered, he kissed an imaginary hand, he walked, he
+fell--"like a bag!"
+
+The jury listened entranced. It was like going to the theater, only
+better--much better, and cost nothing. Besides, afterward, they could
+turn down their thumbs or turn them up, as they might see fit. For a
+moment the jury saw or thought they saw the whole thing--the perfidious
+hand-kissing assassin--then--
+
+"_Bugiardo! Bugiardo!_" shrieked Candido, rising hysterically and
+tearing the air in impotent rage. "Liar! Liar! He was not there! He
+knows nothing! He is an enemy!"
+
+"_Silenzio!_" cried the fantastically bearded interpreter.
+
+"Keep still!" ordered a court officer, shaking the prisoner roughly by
+the shoulder. The jury were delighted. Pietro was entirely unconcerned.
+A rapid fire of Italian ran quickly along the benches.
+
+Ludovico subsided into a little heap, his head sunk beneath his
+shoulders, the tears coursing down his cheeks. Madonna! Would they take
+the word of an enemy? Did they not know he was a Sicilian? What other
+hidden motive might not Pietro have? Candido stiffened and again turned
+to where he knew his wife must be sitting. Ah, that wretch! He had
+noticed his looks and glances. Candido ground his teeth, then dropped
+his head upon his arms.
+
+"Maria Delsarto!" shouted the attendant.
+
+Candido shivered and groaned aloud. They were calling his own wife to
+testify against him! He grew cold with terror. There was a conspiracy to
+get rid of him. The two had a secret understanding! What if she admitted
+having seen the pistol in his hands? And his threats! Now in truth it
+was all over! He settled himself stolidly, his eyes fixed upon the
+varnished table before him.
+
+Maria came forward, carrying her babe in her arms--Ludovico's "_piccolo
+bambino!_" She was still young and slight; but cheeks a little sunken
+and lips a little set told the story of her dire struggle with poverty.
+In her eyes glowed the beauty of her race, and their long lashes drooped
+on her pale cheeks as her lips moved automatically, repeating after the
+interpreter the words of the oath.
+
+Candido did not raise his own eyes. For him all desire for life had
+vanished. His wife was about to sacrifice him for a new lover, a
+Sicilian! He sat motionless. The sooner it was done the better.
+
+Maria let one hand lie gently on the arm of the witness chair, while
+with the other she caressed the sleeping child in her lap. Her gray
+shawl fell away from behind her head and showed a white neck around
+which hung a slender gold chain bearing a little cross. She looked
+neither at Candido nor at the jury. Then she took the little cross in
+her hand and glanced down at it.
+
+"Your name?" asked the prosecutor.
+
+"Maria Delsarto." Her voice was soft, musical, distinct.
+
+"You are the wife of the defendant?"
+
+"Yes, signore, and this is his child."
+
+"Do you remember that the day before the homicide of Montaro your
+husband brought home a revolver?"
+
+Candido's head disappeared beneath his arms and his body shook
+convulsively.
+
+"No, he had no pistol."
+
+The prisoner raised his eyes and shot a quick, puzzled look at his wife.
+
+"What?" cried the assistant. "You say he had no revolver? Did you not
+swear that you saw one and sign a paper to that effect?"
+
+Maria looked steadily before her. "I did not understand the paper. I saw
+no pistol." The words came quietly, positively.
+
+The prosecutor looked helplessly toward the judge and nervously fingered
+an affidavit.
+
+"You cannot impeach your own witness, Mr. District Attorney," admonished
+his honor.
+
+The prosecutor turned again to Maria. "Did you not tell Sophia Mantelli
+that you were weeping because your husband had purchased a revolver with
+which to kill Beppe?"
+
+"Objected to!" shouted Flynn.
+
+"I will allow it," said his honor, "on the ground of refreshing memory.
+The witness may answer."
+
+"No," answered Maria in the same quiet voice.
+
+The prosecutor threw down the affidavit in disgust. That was what you
+got for taking the word of one of these Italians! Well, it would be a
+lesson! No, he had no more questions. Candido began to chatter at his
+lawyer and fell to nodding and smiling at Maria, who seemed to see him
+no more than before.
+
+Flynn rose deliberately, cleared his throat, and elevated and stretched
+his arms as if to secure freer action, exhibiting during the operation a
+large pair of soiled cuffs.
+
+"Do you know Pietro What's-his-name?" he inquired sharply.
+
+Maria flushed and her head sank toward the child. "Yes," she murmured.
+
+"You have heard him testify that he saw the killing of Montaro?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you know where he was at that time?"
+
+Maria's head fell so low that her face could not be seen, and her hand
+sought the cross upon her bosom.
+
+"Answer the question!" cried Flynn roughly.
+
+"He was with me when we heard the shots below." Her voice dropped to a
+whisper. "He had been there for an hour. He was not with Ludovico at
+all. He saw nothing."
+
+An excited chatter flew around the benches. The handsome Pietro sat
+dumfounded.
+
+Candido started from his chair, his face livid with passion, his eyes
+glaring. "_Traditrice!_ It is thus you deceive me! It is well that I
+should die. Faithless betrayer!"
+
+In the hysteria of the moment he entirely overlooked the value of the
+testimony in his behalf. The attendant and the distinguished Flynn
+thrust him down, and the interpreter hurled at him a torrent of
+remonstrances. Once more the prisoner buried his face in his hands.
+Maria, still hanging her head, left the chair, and with her babe in her
+arms sought a distant corner of the court room.
+
+With the testimony of an officer that a button photograph of Maria had
+been found pinned inside the coat of Montaro, the prosecution closed its
+case. The assistant district attorney sat down. The jury shifted their
+positions. The distinguished Flynn rose to make motions that the case be
+taken from the jury. It was plain, he argued in sonorous and
+reverberating tones, that the prosecution had impeached its principal
+witness by the testimony of the defendant's wife, Maria Delsarto. It had
+raised a reasonable doubt on its own evidence. There was nothing upon
+which the jury could predicate a verdict. He asked that they be directed
+to acquit. Was his motion denied? With an expression of well-simulated
+surprise, he made the other stereotyped motions. The court denied them
+all.
+
+Candido saw and trembled. That shaking of the head could mean only one
+thing! Well, they would let him see the priest first--before they did
+it.
+
+"Take the chair!" came Flynn's harsh voice from above.
+
+"The chair!" _La sedia!_ Madonna! He knew that word. So soon then? He
+stiffened with horror. A chilly perspiration broke out all over his
+body. The room swam and darkness surged across his bewildered vision.
+
+"Take the chair!" repeated the voice.
+
+"_La sedia!_" bellowed the interpreter. "_La sedia!_"
+
+Candido shivered as with ague. His teeth chattered. _Dio!_ Now?
+
+The attendant placed a hand upon his shoulder. Candido uttered a
+terrible cry, and fell senseless to the floor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A long adjournment, a talk with the priest, an explanation from the
+interpreter, and Candido "took the chair," telling his own story in a
+fluent but listless monotone. He spoke of his father and mother, of his
+home in Calabria, of Maria whom he had known from childhood. His speech
+was soft and dejected. Then he told of Beppe--Beppe, the great, coarse,
+bullying brute who had tormented and abused him! Yet he had never
+retaliated until the other had sought to ruin his home. Then he had
+refused him access. Montaro had publicly sworn to be revenged, declaring
+that he would kill him and marry his widow.
+
+Candido gritted his teeth and shook his curved fingers, uttering various
+_staccato_ adjectives. Then he recovered himself, and in a different
+tone began to speak slowly and with great care, pausing after each
+sentence. From time to time he looked to observe the effect of his
+testimony upon the distinguished Flynn. That night in the wine shop
+Montaro had called him aside and in the most insulting manner warned him
+of his approaching fate. He would be dead within a week, and Maria would
+belong to another. Then in mockery Montaro had bent over his hand as if
+to administer a caress and had _bitten_ it--the deadliest of affronts.
+Candido had hurried out of the shop toward his home, closely followed by
+Montaro. At the door of the tenement his enemy had rushed upon him with
+a drawn knife from behind, and to save his own life Candido had fired at
+him.
+
+"He was a bad man--_un perfido_. He would have killed me and taken my
+wife from me had I not killed him," continued the defendant. As for this
+Pietro, he had not been there at all. He was an enemy, a Sicilian.
+
+In response to a question of the assistant, he explained that the pistol
+was an old one. He had not bought it to kill Montaro. He had had it for
+four or five years. Had procured it for safety when working on the
+railroad.
+
+By degrees Candido recovered from his listlessness. He no longer seemed
+careless as to the result of the case. A new strong thirst for life had
+taken possession of him. There was an air of frankness about the
+weather-beaten little countenance, and a trustful look in the brown eyes
+that served far better than "character witnesses" to convince the jury
+of his ingenuousness. There was no doubt as to his having made an
+impression.
+
+The distinguished Flynn patted him on the back as he took his seat and
+felt greatly encouraged. These Italians were great actors--and no
+mistake!
+
+[Illustration: "The distinguished Flynn burst into a deluge of
+oratory."]
+
+But the prosecution had reserved a bombshell for the last, intended
+to annihilate the testimony of the defendant and neutralize the effect
+of his personality upon the jury. The assistant called in rebuttal a
+salesman from a large retail fire-arm store, who testified positively
+that the pistol in evidence had been purchased the day before the
+homicide. Flynn turned to the attendant, whom he knew well and cursed.
+These Guineas! Bought the day before! He had all the air of one who has
+been grossly and inexcusably deceived. He scowled at Candido, who
+quailed before him.
+
+"How long do you want to sum up, gentlemen?" inquired the court. "Will
+twenty minutes each be sufficient?"
+
+The distinguished Flynn burst into a deluge of oratory in which
+Self-Defense and The Unwritten Law played opposite one another, neither
+yielding precedence. His client was a hero! The instinct of every true
+American, of every husband, of every father, must stamp his deed as one
+blameless in the eyes of the Almighty, and worthy not of censure but of
+the approval of all honest men and lovers of virtue. At the risk of his
+own life he had preserved the integrity of his home and the honor of his
+wife. At the same time he had rid the community of a villain. Never,
+while the Stars and Stripes floated above their heads would an American
+jury on this sacred soil, consecrated by the blood of those who
+sacrificed their lives to liberty, etc.-- He subsided, panting and
+mopping his forehead.
+
+The assistant rose to reply. This explanation of the defendant that he
+had killed in self-defense was the last despairing effort of a guilty
+man to escape the consequences of his horrible crime. Of course the
+prisoner's own evidence was valueless. Jealousy! Calm, calculating
+jealousy! That was the key to this awful act. The tell-tale picture on
+Montaro's coat, the crimson admissions of the defendant's wife, the
+purchase of the pistol--all spoke for themselves. The prosecutor paused.
+
+"Sympathy is not for the assassin," he concluded. "Think rather of his
+innocent victim! On the sunny shores of Calabria sits a woman, old and
+gray, to whom this Beppe is her joy, her pride, who thinks of him by day
+working in the great America across the seas, and whose heart, as the
+time for the harvest draws near and the exiles are coming back to work
+in the fields, will beat with expectation. The others will come. Father
+will meet daughter, and mother will meet son, and they will tell of
+their life in the great country of Freedom; but for her there will be no
+gladness--her Beppe will return no more."
+
+The assistant sank into his seat. Candido was staring at him with wide
+eyes. He knew the _avvocato_ had been talking about Calabria. Madonna!
+Would he ever see it again?
+
+"Gentlemen of the jury," began his honor. "I shall first define the
+various degrees of murder and manslaughter."
+
+The sun fell lower and lower over the Tombs as the judge continued his
+charge. The jury twisted uneasily in their chairs. Candido grew tired.
+This interminable flow of talk! Why did not the judge say what should be
+done to him at once? Millions of motes swam in the sun, and with his
+head resting on his forearms he watched them idly. He had always loved
+the sun. A warm lassitude stole over him. On Sundays he had spent whole
+mornings curled up on a bench in Seward Park with Maria and the
+_bambino_ beside him. How funnily the motes danced about! He smiled
+drowsily at them. Some were so tiny as to be almost invisible, and some
+were really large--if you half closed your eyes and one got near it
+seemed almost as big as a cat--fluffy like a cat. Those little, tiny
+motes would float out of nowhere into the band of sunshine and sink and
+dart across it, vanishing into nothingness. Candido amused himself by
+blowing millions of them into eternity. He himself was just like that.
+Out of the black, into the warm sun for a little while, and then--pouf!
+
+There was a tremendous scuffling of feet beside him, and the jury rose
+and filed out. The noise brought him back out of his dream to the
+realities again. They were going away! Judgment had been pronounced! The
+judge bowed solemnly to the retreating foreman. Again the fierce chill
+of overwhelming animal fear seized him. An officer approached. Madonna!
+He could not pass into the black like the motes, he could not! And he
+was as yet unshriven! With his frail little body vibrating like a
+framework of slender steel, he turned and faced the officer, panting
+with fear, his eyes darting fire.
+
+"Aw, come along!" growled the attendant, raising his hand to seize him
+by the arm.
+
+"I cannot die unshriven!" shrieked Candido, and flung himself furiously
+upon the officer, biting, kicking, scratching, until, nearly fainting
+from his paroxysm of terror and in a coma of exhaustion, he allowed
+himself to be carried away by three burly Irishmen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Bring up the defendant!" directed the court. The jury were already in
+and waiting for the prisoner. The Italians had all been hustled out into
+the corridor. His honor had no mind for any sort of demonstration. The
+light still poured through the great windows, and the sky was a deep
+sunny blue over the Tombs. Resisting, clutching at sills and railing,
+hanging by his arms, Candido was carried in and held bodily at the bar.
+
+"Jurors, look upon the defendant. Defendant, look upon the jurors. How
+say you, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?" asked the
+clerk grandiloquently.
+
+"Not guilty," answered the foreman distinctly, and with a shade of
+defiance in his voice.
+
+"Listen to your verdict as it stands recorded," continued the clerk,
+unaffected. "You find the defendant not guilty, and so say you all."
+
+"Any other charges against the prisoner?" inquired his honor.
+
+"Not yet," replied the assistant with sarcasm.
+
+Suddenly Candido began again. "Madonna! Save me! I confess that I killed
+Beppe, my countryman----"
+
+The bifurcated interpreter jabbered furiously at him. An expression of
+dumb amazement overspread the dusty little face.
+
+"You are free, acquitted, discharged; you may return to your home!"
+announced the beard dramatically, waving a hand in the direction of the
+door. The officers lowered Candido slowly to his feet. He picked up his
+hat. Abject wonder was painted upon his countenance. He gazed from the
+judge to the jury, and back again to the prosecutor.
+
+"Madonna! I am pardoned for killing Beppe? _O giudici_, I kiss your
+hands." He seized that of the interpreter and devoured it with kisses.
+Then with a smile he added: "Ah, you see I could not but kill him! He
+had ruined my home! He had deprived me of honor!"
+
+[Illustration: "He caught sight of the waiting Maria."]
+
+The attendants faced him toward the door, and he started slowly away;
+but before he had taken half a dozen steps he caught sight of the
+waiting Maria. His face changed. Once more he turned to the interpreter
+and muttered something hoarsely beneath his breath.
+
+"He says," translated the interpreter, turning to the court, "that he
+would like to have his pistol."
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE FELLER
+
+
+Five feet high, in a suit of clothes three sizes too large for him, he
+stood in the doorway of my office impassively examining a card which he
+held in his hand and looking doubtfully about the room.
+
+"I want to see the assistant district attorney," he said.
+
+"Well, this is the right place," I answered in as encouraging a tone as
+I could assume.
+
+"I want to see you--to speak with you. That lawyer company----"
+
+"Oh, the Legal Aid? What do you want to see me about?"
+
+"The little feller," he replied, taking a step forward and grasping his
+flat Derby hat firmly before him with both hands.
+
+"What's the trouble?"
+
+"It's the little feller--Isaac--they have arrested him for larceny." He
+spoke the words in a matter-of-fact--rather hopeful--altogether engaging
+manner.
+
+"Larceny, eh! How old is he?"
+
+"Eight. But he didn't do nothin'. He was out with some bad boys, but he
+didn't do nothin' and the cop arrested him with the others. That's all.
+I came down to get him off, if I could." He smiled frankly.
+
+"What's your name?" I inquired, for ingenuousness of that sort is
+uncommon among the Jews.
+
+"Abraham Aselovitch--my father is Isidore and my mother she is Rachael
+Aselovitch."
+
+"And this little fellow--is he your brother?"
+
+"Sure."
+
+"When does his case come up?"
+
+"Next Monday in the Children's Court." He shifted his position.
+
+"Well, even if he is found guilty they will probably only send him to
+the Juvenile Asylum."
+
+"That's it--Juvenile Asylum. It's a bad place. I don't want him to go
+there," replied the boy with determination.
+
+"Why not, Abraham?" I inquired.
+
+"It is a bad place. He will meet bad boys there--like the ones that got
+him into trouble," he responded with an eager look.
+
+"It's not such a bad place," I ventured.
+
+"I know what it is!" he retorted fiercely. "They make criminals there.
+Good boys are put in with the bad. It makes no difference. One makes the
+other bad. Isaac is a _good_ boy."
+
+"How about the evidence?"
+
+"I think they will convict him," remarked Abraham conclusively. "Those
+cops will swear to anything."
+
+"Oh, it isn't as bad as that," I answered with a smile. "Still, I'm
+afraid I can't get him off, particularly if the evidence would warrant
+his conviction. After all, perhaps the Juvenile is the best place for
+him, or maybe" (the thought struck me) "they will parole him in the
+custody of his mother."
+
+"No, they won't!" he cried with harsh vindictiveness. "She _wants_ him
+to go there. The little feller, he makes too much trouble for her. She
+don't want that she should have to clean up after him. She don't want to
+have to cook for him." His eyes filled. "My mother, she has no use for
+the little feller--but he's all I've got."
+
+"Do you work?"
+
+"Sure, every morning I go with my father at six o'clock, and I work all
+day until seven. Then I come home, and the little feller is lying in my
+bed and I put my arms around him and go to sleep."
+
+"Six until seven!" I exclaimed.
+
+"Yes, that is the time my father works, and I work for him--on the
+pants."
+
+"My God! A sweatshop!" I murmured. "Don't you ever have any fun?"
+
+"Sure I do. Saturdays we don't do no work an' I take the little feller
+down to Coney, an' sit on the sand all day with him. Do we have fun?
+Well, say, I guess!"
+
+"What does your father give you a week?"
+
+"Sometimes a dollar. Sometimes a dollar and a half. Sometimes nothin'."
+
+"What does your father say about putting Isaac in the asylum?"
+
+"My father!" answered Abraham, his eyes flashing. "_He_ don't want him.
+Isaac won't work. He's an _American_ boy. He's only eight. He just hangs
+around the house and musses things up and won't do nothin' they tell
+him. My father would be glad to get rid of him."
+
+"Well, if he makes all this trouble, why do you want to keep him?" I
+asked.
+
+"Because I love him!" responded Abraham with a sob. "He's all I've
+got--that little feller. I want him to grow up a good boy. If they
+don't want to take care of him, _I will_. I'll earn the money. I'll send
+him to school, maybe, by and by, and make a _lawyer_ of him." Abraham
+spoke eagerly. "The old folks, my father and mother, they ain't like me
+and you, they ain't real Americans, they don't understand these things.
+All they think about is work and the synagogue. I'm up against it, I
+know. I've got to work. But the little feller--I want that little feller
+to come out on top and have a chance."
+
+"McCarthy," said I to the county detective assigned to the office,
+"kindly step into the next room. I want to speak to this boy alone.
+
+"Abraham, you are up against it, I guess. Don't you think you can go
+without the little feller for a year? I'll do what I can, but even if he
+goes up they won't keep him longer than that at the asylum, and probably
+when he comes out he'll be more of a help to your father and mother."
+
+The big tears stood in his eyes and he twisted his hands together as he
+answered:
+
+"I guess--maybe--maybe, I could give up going down to Coney for a year,
+if it was going to do him any good. Don't you think the asylum's so
+bad?"
+
+"No, indeed," said I. "It's fine. He can learn to play in the band.
+He'll have a good time. Let him go."
+
+For an instant I thought my words had made an impression. Then the two
+tears welled over.
+
+"You don't know--" the voice was low and passionate--"you don't know
+what it is to have nothin' but a little feller like that. And way off
+there--he would wake up in the night maybe--all alone--a little
+feller----"
+
+"Abraham!" I exclaimed, "the Juvenile be hanged! I'll see the judge and
+do my best to have the little fellow remanded in the custody of his
+brother. And Abraham----"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Where is the little feller? Out on bail?"
+
+"Yessir."
+
+I fumbled in my pocket for a dollar bill.
+
+"Will you be paid for to-day?" I asked.
+
+"No, there's nothin' doin' to-day," he answered.
+
+"Had any work this week?"
+
+"Nothin' much this week. There ain't much doin' at the shop. I won't get
+paid this week."
+
+"Well," I continued, "the little feller is free till Monday, anyhow.
+Take him down to Coney to-morrow. And see here, Abraham, just _spend_
+that dollar. Be a good sport." He grinned. "Take the little feller along
+and sit on the sand, and if there is anything you want to see, no matter
+if it costs five cents or ten cents, you go in and see it. Have a real
+good time. Something for the little fellow to remember."
+
+He smiled out of his eyes a heaven-born smile.
+
+"Thank you."
+
+"Never mind that, just do as I say. And Monday you go to court with him.
+I'll see what I can do."
+
+"You bet I will. I'll take the little feller down there to-morrow. You
+ought to see him, Mister. Some time I'll bring him in here."
+
+He shook hands and turned to open the door. As it closed behind him,
+there echoed faintly through the transom:
+
+"Just wait till you see that little feller!"
+
+
+
+
+RANDOLPH, '64
+
+
+    "For the good and the great, in their beautiful prime,
+    Through thy precincts have musingly trod--"
+
+The roll of the national anthem died away and the veterans stood with
+bowed heads while the chaplain pronounced the benediction. Then the
+color bearer elevated the regimental flags, the drums tapped, and the
+gray-haired soldier boys, in straggling twos, marched slowly out of
+Saunders's Theater, through the flower-bedecked transept, and into the
+broad sunshine of Memorial Day. Ralph and I lingered in our seats until
+the crowd had thinned. In the flag-draped balcony above the platform the
+members of the band were hurriedly departing with their impedimenta;
+here and there little old ladies dressed in gray, were making their way
+with tardy steps toward the side exit; while all around the theater the
+open windows poured in a battery of mote-filled sunshine upon the
+deserted benches. The air was heavy with the soft fragrance of the elms
+outside, the faint odor of starched linen, of pine dust, and of flowers.
+
+"There's a pair for you!" whispered Ralph, as an erect old gentleman
+accompanied by a white-haired negro came up the aisle. "I wish I knew
+who they were." He offered to wager large sums, based upon his alleged
+capacity for divination, that they were an "old grad," a Southerner,
+probably, and his body servant--"Old Marse" and "Uncle Ned." He
+instantly saw visions of them as characters in a story he was writing
+for one of the college papers. He is an imaginative boy.
+
+We followed them out into the transept, and waited in the jog by the
+entrance while they made the round of the tablets, the white man reading
+the various inscriptions to his companion, who now and then would nod as
+if in recollection, and once furtively wiped his eyes with a frayed
+red-bordered silk handkerchief. The last we saw of them, they were
+picking their way across the car tracks of Cambridge Street in the
+direction of the Yard.
+
+All the long spring afternoon, as we lay on the grass with our backs
+against the tree trunks, pretending to study, but really only watching
+the little gray denizens of the Yard intent upon their squirrel
+business, Ralph was making up stories about "Old Marse" and "Uncle Ned."
+I don't believe the chap read a line of his Stubbs on "Mediæval
+Architecture," and he was very loath to join me when I dragged him to
+his feet and said that it was time for supper.
+
+Darkness had fallen when, two hours later, we joined the group of men
+gathered under the elms around the main entrance of Holworthy, where the
+Glee Club had assembled for one of its evening concerts. Everywhere the
+old buildings gleamed with light, for the examinations were on, and each
+window had its cluster of coatless occupants, who from time to time
+vociferously participated in mournful, lingering calls for "M-o-r-e."
+The odor of pipe smoke mingled with the sweet, humid breath of the grass
+and the subtle perfume of professors' gardens from distant Quincy
+Street; in the western sky a crescent moon, just peeping from behind the
+tower of Massachusetts Hall, shyly nestled in the tree tops; while
+between the great elms we could look, as we lay flat upon our backs,
+into an infinity of faintly twinkling worlds. Between songs you could
+hear the creaking of the pump in front of Hollis Hall, and the tinkle of
+the cup upon its chain as it was tossed heedlessly away by the thirsty
+wayfarer after he had availed himself of its humble services. Ralph and
+I, joyously entangled in the anatomy of a dozen classmates, drank in
+with rapture the never cloying melodies of "Johnnie Harvard," "The
+Miller's Daughter," "The Independent Cadets," and "A Health to King
+Charles," none of which old favorites escaped without a second
+rendition, and it was well on to nine o'clock when with a last
+
+    Here's a health to King Charles,
+    _Fill him up_ to the brim!
+
+the assemblage broke up, in spite of savage disapproval from the
+windows.
+
+Then only did we surrender to our miserable apprehension of the
+imminent, deadly "exam." in Fine Arts 4, and with the earnestly avowed
+purpose of really mastering the difference between a gargoyle and a
+lintel before we retired to rest, reluctantly mounted the stone steps
+recently vacated by our musical brethren. Our room was Number 10, the
+first as you go in on the right, and the flickering gaslight in the hall
+showed that the door, in accordance with inviolable custom, was still
+ajar.
+
+"Wait a second while I light the lamp," I remarked to Ralph, and,
+feeling my way across the room to my desk, stood there fumbling for the
+matches. As I did so I was startled to hear a voice from the darkness in
+the direction of the fireplace.
+
+"I beg your pardon," it said. "I'm afraid I have usurped your room, but
+the door was open and its invitation was too attractive to be refused."
+
+The match flared up and I saw before me Ralph's "Old Marse."
+
+"Oh--of course--certainly," I replied. He had arisen from the armchair
+in which evidently he had been listening to the singing. Then the wick
+caught, and by the increased light I saw that the man before me looked
+older than he had in the morning. His hair was almost white, and his
+face about the eyes finely wrinkled, but its expression was full of
+kindly humor, and I felt somehow that this stranger quite belonged
+there, and that it was I who was the intruder.
+
+"You see," he continued with a smile, "I feel that I have a certain
+right to be here. This used to be my room. Let me introduce myself.
+Curtis is my name--Curtis, '64."
+
+"Glad to meet you, Mr. Curtis," said I. "I'm Jarvis, 190--. Was this
+really your room? That seems an awfully long time ago."
+
+He smiled again.
+
+"I'm afraid it seems longer ago to you than to me. Would you mind if I
+should smoke a cigar with you? I'd like to ask you some things about the
+old building."
+
+"Please do," said I. "And let me introduce my roommate, Ralph Hughes."
+
+Ralph shook hands with Mr. Curtis, and we all sat down around the
+fireplace. It seemed rather inhospitable not to be able to offer him any
+refreshments, but there was only one bottle of beer in the
+_papier-maché_ fire pail in my bedroom, and it was warm at that. Hence
+we accepted our guest's cigars with some diffidence and awaited his
+first interrogation. I could see that Ralph was brimming over with
+eagerness to ask about "Uncle Ned" and a hundred other things which that
+romantic ostrich of a boy had invented during the afternoon, and I felt
+quite sure that before Mr. Curtis got away he would be obliged to pay
+heavily for the temerity of his visit by being offered up upon the altar
+as a sacrifice to Ralph's bump of acquisitiveness.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Curtis, "this was my room for four years. If you look
+over on the windowpane I think you'll find my name scratched on the
+glass in the lower left-hand corner. I wonder if that old picture of the
+Belvoir Fox Hunt, that I left, is still here?"
+
+"Oh, was that yours?" exclaimed Ralph. He darted into the bedroom and
+unhooked a framed lithograph which had been the joy and pride of the
+occupants of the room for the past four decades. Mr. Curtis turned it
+round and pointed to his name in faded ink upon the back at the head of
+a long line of indorsements, each of which represented a temporary
+possessor.
+
+"The old room seems about the same. The wall-paper has been changed, but
+that big crack over by the bedroom I remember well. And there ought to
+be a bullet hole in the frame of the door."
+
+"A bullet hole!" exclaimed Ralph and I in unison.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Curtis quietly, "a bullet hole--a thirty-two caliber, I
+should judge."
+
+Ralph seized the lamp and, holding it high above his head, carefully
+scrutinized the woodwork of the door.
+
+"There it is!" he cried eagerly. "Right in the middle; and, by George,
+there's the bullet, too! There's a story about that, I bet--isn't there?
+Who fired it? How did it get there?"
+
+He replaced the lamp, quivering with interest.
+
+"A story if you like," responded Mr. Curtis, looking curiously out of
+his laughing brown eyes at my impetuous roommate. "Yes, quite a little
+story. I could hardly tell you about it unless I told you also something
+of the man who fired the shot. Did you ever hear of Randolph? Randolph,
+'64?"
+
+The blank look which came into our faces rendered answer unnecessary.
+
+"Never heard of Randolph, '64! _Sic fama est!_ I suppose some Jones or
+Smith or Robinson now holds his place. Outside of Prex himself, there
+wasn't a better-known figure in my time. Why, he occupied this very
+room. He was my roommate."
+
+"Did he, though!" ejaculated Ralph. "How did he come to be firing a
+pistol around? Didn't he fall foul of the Yard policeman?"
+
+"There were no Yard policemen in those days," said Mr. Curtis.
+
+"What luck!" ejaculated Ralph. "Do tell us about Randolph!" he pleaded
+in the same breath.
+
+"Certainly. If you really wish it. I trust you fellows haven't any
+examinations to-morrow."
+
+"Examinations be hanged!" exclaimed Ralph.
+
+"Well," began Mr. Curtis meditatively, "I remember as if it were only
+yesterday being awakened one bright September morning in '60 by the
+sound of a rich negro voice singing in time to the scuff-scuff of the
+blacking of a pair of shoes. The sound entered the open window through
+which the autumn sun was already pouring, and penetrated the stillness
+of my bedroom, over there. I sprang out of bed and, thrusting my head
+out of the window, beheld, seated comfortably upon the topmost step, a
+comically visaged darky, clad in a pair of brown overalls and battered
+felt hat, busily engaged in putting the finishing touches to a highly
+polished pair of russet riding boots. Piled indiscriminately upon the
+sidewalk, in front of the windows of the room opposite, lay several huge
+trunks, while at the foot of the steps reposed a long wicker basket,
+before which were ranged in order of height an astonishing collection of
+riding boots and shoes of all varieties, upon which the disturber of my
+dreams had evidently been hard at work, since they shone with a luster
+glorious to behold. The negro, having critically examined the boot upon
+his arm, and evidently satisfied with its condition, arose to place it
+by the side of its mate, and in so doing caught sight of me. Instantly
+he had doffed his old gray hat and was making a grave salutation.
+
+"'Good mornin', suh.'
+
+"For a moment this vision of darky courtesy deprived me of my ordinary
+self-possession. Then his grin became contagious.
+
+"'I heard you singing and thought I'd look out to see who it was. Do you
+know who those trunks belong to?'
+
+"'Dose? Why, dose is Marse Dick's. Oh, p'r'aps you ain't met Marse
+Dick--Marse Dick Randolph, ob Randolph Hall, Virginny, suh.' He drew
+himself up with conscious pride. 'We-uns jes' come las' night. Marse
+Dick's rooms is in dar'--nodding toward the window--'en I wuz jes'
+a-lookin' ober some ob his traps. Anyt'ing I kin do fo' you, suh? Glad
+to be of any service, suh. I'se Marse Dick's boy--Moses--Moses March,
+suh.'
+
+"'Well, Moses,' I answered, 'I'm glad to make your acquaintance. You can
+tell Mr. Randolph that if he is going to be a neighbor of mine I shall
+call upon him at the earliest opportunity.'
+
+"'Yah, suh. T'ank you, suh,' responded Moses.
+
+"Just then the old bell on Harvard Hall began to clamor for the morning
+chapel service, and realizing that the master of my new acquaintance
+might be unfamiliar with college regulations, I called out:
+
+"'You'd better wake Mr. Randolph or he'll be late for chapel.'
+
+"'Call Marse Dick!' exclaimed the darky in apparent horror. 'Golly, I
+darsn't call Marse Dick 'fo' ten o'clock. Why, he'd skin me alive.
+'Sides, he tole me to bring roun' Azam 'bout ten o'clock.'
+
+"'Azam?' I queried.
+
+"'Yah, suh; Azam's Marse Dick's hunter. Bes' Kentucky blood, suh. Sired
+by ole Marse's stallion Satan, out o' White Clover. Dar's a hunter fo'
+you, suh. You jes' ought ter see Marse Dick a-follerin' de hounds.
+'Scuse me, suh, fo' keepin' you a-waitin'. No, suh, t'ank you, suh; I
+won't forgit de card, suh.'
+
+"Hastily retiring to my bedroom I threw on my clothes and then hurried
+off to chapel. The shades of Number 9, the room across the hall, were
+still tightly drawn."
+
+Mr. Curtis stopped and relit his cigar. The yellow sash curtains on
+their sagging wires softly bellied in the night breeze, and through the
+open windows came the distant chanting of the Institute march and the
+tinkle of the pump.
+
+"This very room!" repeated the old gentleman half to himself. "And this
+very window!" His voice sank dreamily and he seemed for the moment to
+have forgotten our presence. "Those were happy times. As I look back
+over the forty years, the time I spent here seems one long vista of
+glorious autumn days. The same old red-brick buildings; the same green
+velvet sward; that old tolling bell; the gravel walks; the pump--I
+remember there always used to be a damp place about ten feet square
+about the pump; the old creaking stairs outside this very door; the
+quiet evenings on the steps where those jolly chaps were singing; the
+long talks before this very fireplace under the lamplight with Dick; and
+then that fatal rupture with the South! How little it means to you! Why,
+it is isn't even a dream. It's just tradition. I suppose you feel
+it--you can't help feeling it. But if you had sat here, as I did, with
+the fellows going away, and the company drilling on the Delta over
+there--what do you call it now: the Delta?--and had shared the feverish
+enthusiasm which we all felt, tempered by the sorrow of losing our
+comrades; the little scenes when they went off one by one, and we gave
+each fellow a sword or some knickknack to carry with him; and the long,
+sad, anxious days when you waited breathless for news--and then, when it
+came, often as not, had felt a pang at your heartstrings because some
+fellow that you loved had got it at Bull Run, or Antietam, or Cold
+Harbor! No, you can never know what that meant, and thank God you can't.
+The rest is about the same. I see you have squirrels in the Yard now. We
+never had any squirrels. I suppose you sit in these windows and watch
+'em by the hour. Busier than you, I guess.
+
+"But apart from the squirrels and the new buildings, the old place is
+about the same--bigger, more imposing, of course, with its modern
+equipment of museums and laboratories and all that, and best of all that
+splendid monument with its transept full of memories. But it's not the
+same to me. It's only when I turn toward the corner by Hollis and
+Stoughton, as I did this afternoon, with Holden Chapel just peeping in
+between, and the big elms swinging overhead, and, shutting my ears to
+the rattle of the electric cars, listen to the sound of the same old
+clanging bell, with the sun gilding the tree trunks and slanting along
+the gravel pathways, that I can call back those dear old days. Then, it
+seems as if I were back in '61."
+
+In the pause which followed Ralph volunteered that we all did feel
+somewhat of the same thing, only in a minor degree. He had often
+imagined the fellows going off to the war and had wondered if it was
+anything like what he supposed. He pattered on in his own peculiar way
+trying to put our guest at ease and, as he expressed it later, to cheer
+him up. It would never have done, he averred later in his own defense,
+to let "Old Marse" get groggy over the "sunlit elms." However, Mr.
+Curtis changed the tone himself.
+
+"And now to come to that first time that I ever saw Randolph. I had just
+come from tea and was sauntering along the Yard in front of Stoughton
+when I became conscious that my customary place upon the steps, out
+there, had been usurped. The trunks and paraphernalia of the morning had
+disappeared, and although Moses was absent, I knew somehow that this
+could be no other than 'Marse Dick.' He was tall, with muscular back and
+shoulders, and his clothes of dark-blue serge hung on him as if they had
+grown there. His feet were encased in long-toed vermilion morocco
+slippers, and the other elements of his costume which caught my eye were
+a yellow corduroy waistcoat, very faddish for those days, and a flowing
+red cravat. A broad-brimmed black slouch hat was well pulled down over
+his eyes, while from beneath protruded a long brierwood pipe from which
+voluminous clouds of smoke rolled forth upon the evening air without
+causing any annoyance, so it seemed, to an enormous mastiff, who sat
+contentedly between his master's knees, blinking his eyes and thumping
+his tail in response to the caresses of the hand upon his head. As I
+drew near the dog stalked over to meet me, sniffing good-naturedly, and
+the stranger stepped down, removed his hat, and held out his hand with a
+smile of greeting.
+
+"'Mr. Curtis, I believe, suh?' he said in a low but agreeable drawl. 'My
+boy Moses gave me the card you were kind enough to send by him this
+morning. We are neighbors, are we not?'
+
+"I had rather expected to see the face of a dandy, but instead a pair of
+black eyes under almost beetling black brows burned steadily into mine.
+He looked nearer thirty than twenty, and this appearance of maturity was
+heightened by a tiny goatee. His smile was straightforward and honest,
+the forehead, under the curly black locks, low and broad, the nose
+aquiline and the skin dark and ruddy. Yes, he was a very pretty figure
+of a man--as handsome a lad as one would care to meet on a summer's
+day--part pirate, part Spanish grandee, part student, and every inch a
+gentleman. Later there were plenty of fellows who said that no man could
+dress like that (we were all soberly arrayed in those days) and be a
+gentleman; or that no one could come flaunting his horses and dogs and
+niggers into Cambridge, as Randolph undoubtedly did, and be one; or
+could parade around the Yard smoking real cigars and keep dueling
+pistols on his mantel and rum under the bed, as Dick did, and be one.
+But he was, boys, he was!
+
+"Perhaps he did talk too much about his niggers and his acres; too much
+about his old mansion and its flower gardens, about stables, fox-hunting
+and fiddlers--what of it? The point was that we were a lot of
+soul-starved, psalm-singing Yankees, talking through our noses and
+counting our pennies; while Randolph was a warm-hearted, hot-headed,
+fire-eating, cursing Virginian.
+
+"We shook hands and I joined him on the steps. It was just such a night
+as this--calm and sweet, the stars peeping through the boughs, and the
+windows shining. And that's how I like to think of him.
+
+"He'd never been away from home before except to go to Paris. He talked
+like a feudal baron, seeming to think that life was just one long
+holiday; that no one had to earn a living; that things in general were
+constructed by an amiable Deity solely for our delectation; and there
+was in his attitude a recklessness and disregard for established usages
+that left me totally at a loss. Imagine a fellow like myself taught to
+regard card playing, the theater, and dancing as mortal sins, with a
+father who believed in infant damnation and predestination; a fellow
+brought up to gaze in silent admiration at Charles Sumner; and who was
+allowed a silver half-dollar a week pocket money--imagine me, I say,
+sitting out there with this free-thinking, free-hating, free-handed
+slave owner! Why, I loved him with my whole heart inside of five
+minutes. God bless my soul, how my father used to frown when they told
+him about my new friend's latest escapade! But with all his freedom of
+ideas he was as simple as a child. I don't believe the fellow ever had a
+mean or an impure thought. I believe that as I believe in God.
+
+"Well, I told him about my life--what there was to tell--and he told me
+about his; how his father had died three years before, leaving him the
+owner of very large estates and a great many hundred slaves--I forget
+how many. His mother was still living down on the plantation. They were
+Roman Catholics--'Papists,' my father called them. The doctrines of the
+Church, however, didn't seem to bother him at all, that I could see. His
+father had evidently been the big man of the county, and had shared all
+his sports and studies, cramming him with the most extraordinary amount
+of miscellaneous reading and curious Chesterfieldian ideas of honor and
+manners.
+
+"I can remember, now, just how he described the old place to me, sitting
+out there on the steps. He thought it the finest home in all the land.
+Perhaps it was. I never had the heart to go there afterwards. One thing
+I remember was a grand old garden laid out in terraces, the walks
+bordered by box two hundred years old and as high as your head, where
+little red and green snakes curled up and sunned themselves--a garden
+full of old-fashioned flowers and fountains and sundials, and a water
+garden, too, with lilies of every sort; and there was a family graveyard
+right on the place where they had all been buried--where his father had
+been--with a ghost--a female ghost--named Shirley, I recall that, who
+flitted among the trees on misty mornings. Oh, it was a great picture!
+I'll never see that old place. Perhaps it's just as well. It couldn't
+have been as beautiful as he painted it. You see I'd been born in a
+twenty-one-foot red-brick house on Beacon Hill.
+
+"Then as we were sitting there on the steps, I broad awake but in
+fairyland, out from under the trees shuffled Moses's quaint, crooked
+figure. Wanted to know if eb'ryt'ing was all right with young Marse.
+Azam and Bhurtpore was fixed first-class, suh. An' he'd done got a
+little cubby-hole down in the stable to sleep in. Wuz dere any orders
+to-night, suh? An' what time should he bring Azam roun' in de mornin'?
+
+"'Go 'long with Moses, Jim,' said Randolph. The dog obediently arose,
+stretched himself, and descended the steps.
+
+"'Good night, Marse Dick,' said Moses.
+
+"'Good night, Moses,' replied Dick. And the two, the darky and the dog,
+disappeared under the shadow of the elms."
+
+Mr. Curtis knocked the ash from his extinct cigar and relit it at the
+top of the lamp chimney.
+
+"I should just like to have seen him," remarked Ralph enthusiastically.
+"And to think that he really lived in this room. How did that happen?
+And which bedroom did he have?"
+
+"The one on the left, nearest the door," replied Mr. Curtis.
+
+Over in Stoughton some fool was strumming a banjo, singing "I'm a
+soldier now, Lizette"--rottenly. And some one else, of the same mind as
+myself apparently, leaned out of the window in the room above us and
+holloed:
+
+"Oh, quit that! Try being a freshman a while! Lizette won't care."
+
+Evidently the singer decided to follow the advice thus gratuitously
+given, for the banjo ceased. Then came one of those long silences when
+you felt instinctively that in a moment something might happen to spoil
+the excellent opportunity of it, throw us off the key as it were, or
+break its placid surface like an inconsequent pebble. But Ralph, in a
+singularly moderate tone, as if leading the theme gently that it might
+not become startled and break away, continued:
+
+"You said something about dueling pistols, you know."
+
+Mr. Curtis looked at him with that same quizzical smile which my
+roommate had called forth before.
+
+"That's it. All you want is gunpowder, treason, and plot. My feeble
+attempt at character sketching has been a failure. Well, now to your
+dessert."
+
+"You are entirely wrong," said Ralph, rather mortified. "Randolph must
+have been a perfect corker. I wish we had some chaps like that in 19--.
+But the Southerners nowadays all seem to go to Chapel Hill, or William
+and Mary, or Tulane, or some of those God-forsaken places where I don't
+believe they even have a ball nine. Only, naturally, I wanted to make
+sure of the bullet hole. You see," he added cunningly, "that bullet hole
+is the thing that links us together. That's how we'll know when you've
+gone that it wasn't all a dream."
+
+Mr. Curtis laughed outright.
+
+"You're a funny boy," said he. "Well, two or three days later I asked
+Randolph to room with me. The matter was easily adjusted, and Moses
+spent nearly a week in fixing up this den here with what he called
+'Marse Dick's contraptions.' Save the old picture there, there's not a
+thing in the place that suggests the room as it looked then. From
+extreme meagerness, if not poverty, of furniture it sprang into
+opulence--almost ornately magnificent it seemed to me with my
+conservative New England tastes and still more conservative New England
+pocketbook. I remember a silver-mounted revolver was always lying on one
+end of the mantelpiece, while in the center was a rosewood case of
+pistols, curious affairs, with long octagonal barrels, and stocks
+inlaid with mother-of-pearl and silver.
+
+"Randolph soon became a celebrity. He could no more avoid being the most
+conspicuous figure in Cambridge than he could help addressing his
+acquaintances as 'suh.' And in spite of his natural reserve, a quality
+which was curiously combined with entire ease in conversation, he soon
+acquired a large acquaintance and rather a following.
+
+"Needless to say, I became his almost inseparable companion. Dick's
+second hunter, Bhurtpore, had been placed entirely at my service, and
+scarce a day passed that autumn without our scouring the country roads
+for miles around, followed by three or four of the hounds. Jim, the
+mastiff, while we were absent on these excursions, spent his time lying
+beneath the ebony table in 10 Holworthy awaiting our return.
+
+"Randolph tried unsuccessfully to organize a hunt. It soon appeared that
+Azam and Bhurtpore were the only hunters in Cambridge, and polo had not
+yet been introduced into this country. Frequently we would take a circle
+of twenty miles in the course of an afternoon, galloping up quiet old
+Brattle Street, out around Fresh Pond, until we struck the Concord
+turnpike, which we followed over Belmont Hill, down past an old yellow
+farmhouse with blue blinds, at the juncture of the highway to Lexington
+and what we called the 'Willow Road,' and then under the overarching
+boughs, through soggy fields full of bright clumps of alders, until the
+fading light of the afternoon warned us that it was time to turn our
+horses' heads in the direction of Cambridge."
+
+"We have a Polo Club," said Ralph, "but we haven't any horses."
+
+"Well, now, to get down to your bullet hole," continued Mr. Curtis.
+"Hazing, of course, was an ordinary affair, and it was not uncommon to
+see a pitched battle of fisticuffs going on behind some college
+building.
+
+"Now, mind you, the hazing was not done by the best men, but by the
+worst, and it was always the tougher elements in the sophomore class
+that availed themselves of this method of showing that they were feeling
+their oats. Every one of us looked forward, sooner or later, to getting
+his dose, and any freshman who smoked cigars and kept a nigger might
+have expected it as a matter of course. But Dick was a chap that did
+just as he pleased, and did it with such a confounded air--the '_bel
+air_,' you know--that you'd have thought we were all a parcel of
+cavaliers walking in a palace garden. I don't blame them for feeling
+that he ought to be taken down a peg, when you take everything into
+consideration.
+
+"For example, imagine his kissing old Mrs. Podridge's hand at a faculty
+tea! Of course the antiquated thing liked it, but it was so conspicuous.
+And worse than all, inviting Prex into his room to have a cigar and a
+glass of Madeira! Think of that! The queer part of it was that Prex
+nearly accepted the invitation.
+
+"'Why not?' said Dick, in answer to my expostulation. 'Do you mean that
+in the North one gentleman cannot, without criticism, extend to another
+the hospitality of his own room?'
+
+"It was all in the point of view. What could you say?
+
+"Some carping fellows spread a canard that Randolph was trying to
+introduce slavery into Cambridge. Dick did not even notice it
+sufficiently to direct Moses to display his manumission papers. Of
+course there was a deal of talking about him, mostly good-natured
+chaff, and had it not been for Watkins I doubt if anything would have
+happened. This person was an ill-conditioned, dissatisfied fellow who
+had come from a small town in Rhode Island with a considerable amount of
+the initial velocity arising out of local prestige, which, wearing off,
+left him in a miserable state of doubt as to what to do to rehabilitate
+himself in the garments of distinction. As you would say, he 'had it in'
+for Randolph for no reason in the world. Dick was just too good-looking,
+too prosperous, too independent--that was all. He had an idea, I
+suppose, that if he could knock the statue off its pedestal he might
+perhaps occupy the vacant situation.
+
+"One evening I inquired carelessly of Randolph what he should do if the
+sophomores tried to haze him. He replied, nonchalantly, that he should
+exercise the sacred right of self-defense as circumstances might
+require. If anyone tried to interfere with him he must take the
+consequences. In certain situations the only thing to do was to shoot
+your aggressor. I looked up to see if he were joking, but his face was
+entirely serious.
+
+"Another chap who was sitting there laughed and slapped his knee. I can
+see now that it was just this kind of thing that gave Randolph's enemies
+some color for saying that he was a sort of crazy fool. Perhaps I was
+playing Sancho Panza to his Don Quixote, after all.
+
+"Presently a lot of other fellows joined us, and by the time Moses
+appeared we had disposed of a couple of bottles of old Port, from under
+Dick's bed, and were loudly declaiming our loyalty to the Old Dominion
+and consigning the class of '63 to eternal torment. In the midst of the
+uproar some one grabbed Moses and shoved him upon the steps, shouting
+'Speech! Speech!' What put the idea into his head I can't
+imagine--probably antislavery speeches in the square which he had
+overheard.
+
+"'Gem'men,' he began, 'I'se not 'customed ter makin' speeches outa
+meetin', 'specially ter gem'men like you-all, but I'se got suthin' I'se
+been a-studyin' ober an' what's a-worryin' me, what I'd like ter say.
+It's des' 'bout Marse Dick. I des' come from down de street whar I done
+hear some gem'men a-speechifyin' 'bout him an' me. Dey says' (his voice
+rose indignantly) 'dat Marse Dick didn't hab no business fo' ter hab me
+here. Dat he didn't hab no right ter hab me work fo' him nohow, or Old
+Marse; an' dey calls Marse Dick some mighty mean names. Now I des' 'ud
+like ter know ef I ain't Marse Dick's boy an' why he ain't got no right
+fo' ter hab me work fo' him. Didn't I work fo' Old Marse 'fo' he died,
+an' didn' my ole man work fo' him, an' ain't I allus been a-workin' fo'
+Ole Miss and Missy Dorothy? Him an' me's been bred up togedder; I'se
+been a-totin' with him eber since he wuz born, ain't I, Marse Dick?'
+
+"He paused amid a dead silence. None of us spoke. I looked at Randolph
+and saw that he was gripping his pipe hard between his teeth.
+
+"'Well, gem'men, I doesn't want leab Marse Dick, ef I is a free nigger,
+an' I doesn't want you ter let 'em tek me away from him, cuz he got no
+one else ter look out fo' him, an' Azam an' Bur'pore an' de dogs, an'
+Ole Miss say when I lef' de Hall how I was neber to leab Marse
+Dick--nohow. An', gem'men, you won't let 'em, will yer?'
+
+"He waited for our assurance. Oh, the constraint of generations of New
+England character! It was so difficult for us to say what we felt. Dick
+was staring out under the trees with glistening eyes. Some fellow made a
+few halting remarks and said we'd stick up for him and Moses to the last
+man, and then we all pounded Moses on the back, and Dick got out some
+more Port and we had another toast, but something had hit us hard."
+
+Mr. Curtis closed his eyes and leaned back his head for a moment as if
+trying to recall some forgotten memory.
+
+"The next evening," he continued presently, "we were both sitting before
+the fire. Jim lay as usual beneath the table, his head pointing toward
+the door. The lamps had not yet been lit and the windows, I remember,
+were open, for the day had been warm--one of those Cambridge
+Indian-summer days. From the lower end of the Yard came a confused
+murmur of voices, mingled with occasional shouts. The voices grew
+louder, and shortly there came a loud cheer, followed by the tramp of
+many feet. I stepped to the window and saw through the dusk a cluster of
+men moving slowly up the sidewalk by Massachusetts Hall. In a moment I
+realized that the time might be at hand for the application of my
+roommate's recently declared principles. With a distinct feeling of
+apprehension I drew in my head and was about hurriedly to suggest a
+walk, when there came the sound of flying feet, and Moses, with scared
+face and starting eyes, burst into the room.
+
+"'Oh, Marse Dick,' he cried in a trembling voice, 'dey's a-comin' ter
+kill yer an' tek me away from yer. Dey's goin' ter hurt yer drefful!
+Doan' let 'em do it, Marse Curtis!'
+
+"Dick had risen quietly and was now engaged in lighting the lamp upon
+the center table, while I shut and locked both door and windows. Jim got
+up from his place beneath the table and watched us uneasily. The noise
+of the crowd grew nearer. Then suddenly I heard a sharp click behind me
+and turned to see Randolph holding one of the silver-mounted pistols
+which he had taken from its case upon the mantel. He was calmly engaged
+in loading.
+
+"'Look here, Dick!' I cried, 'for Heaven's sake put that back!'
+
+"Before I could say another word our assailants entered the hallway of
+the building. There came a babel of voices, followed by a loud pounding
+upon the door. We returned no answer. Then there were shouts of:
+
+"'Run him out!'
+
+"'Liberty forever!'
+
+"'No slaves in Harvard!'
+
+"'Smash in the door!'
+
+"This last suggestion was accompanied by a yell and a rush against the
+door, which swayed inward, and, the lock snapping, burst open. There was
+an instant's hesitation on the part of the men outside; then they began
+to surge through the narrow doorway. Randolph quickly raised his pistol.
+
+"'Back!' he shouted. 'Leave the room!' Instinctively they retreated. I
+can see them now, crowding out through the doorway. Just here, where I
+am sitting, in the full light of the lamp, stood Randolph, the barrel of
+his pistol glistening wickedly. There was a cold gleam in his eyes and a
+drawn look about his mouth. Before him stood Jim, tail switching, and
+lips curled back in a snarl that showed all his sharp teeth, while in
+the background cowered Moses, fear pictured upon every feature, his
+eyeballs gleaming white in the shadowy doorway of the bedroom.
+
+"'I warn you, gentlemen,' said Randolph haughtily. 'I order you to leave
+the room. I shall shoot the first man that crosses my threshold.'
+
+"'Bosh!' cried a voice. 'Hear him!'
+
+"'D----d slave owner!' shouted another.
+
+"'Throw him out!'
+
+"Watkins thrust himself forward.
+
+"'Bah! I'm not afraid of any rum-drinking Southerner! He hasn't the
+nerve to shoot!'
+
+"'Look out!' called some one.
+
+"There was a sudden rush from outside and Watkins either sprang or was
+pushed, probably the latter, through the door. At the same instant there
+was a flash, a report, a snarl, a loud cry, a tumult of feet. The smoke
+cleared slowly away, showing the door empty. Across the threshold lay a
+sophomore, while over him stood Jim, motionless, with his feet on the
+man's chest and his teeth close to his face.
+
+"Randolph laid the smoking pistol upon the table and pointed grimly to a
+splintered crack in the strip above the door.
+
+"'Come here, Jim!' he called. The dog unwillingly drew away, still eying
+the man on the floor, who, finding himself unhurt, began to blubber
+loudly.
+
+"'You are free, suh,' remarked Randolph scornfully. 'Don't let me detain
+you.'
+
+"Watkins slowly and fearfully scrambled to his feet, and then, like a
+flash, vanished into the darkness.
+
+"'Golly, Marse Dick,' exclaimed Moses in an awestruck voice, 'I thought
+you'd killed that gem'man, sho'!'
+
+[Illustration: "'Back,' he shouted."]
+
+"'Give us a glass of brandy, Moses!' said his master, extinguishing the
+light. 'Where are they, Jack?'
+
+"I raised the window and looked out. The sophomores were gathered in an
+excited group about Jim's victim, gazing at our window, and talking
+loudly among themselves. Randolph reloaded the pistol and stepped to the
+door.
+
+"'Pleased to see you at any time, gentlemen,' he said. 'But just now I
+want to go to bed and don't like noise. Don't let me keep you. While I
+sometimes miss a single bird I'm not so bad at a covey. Now off with
+you!'
+
+"Again he whipped up the pistol into position. It looked even more
+wicked in the starlight than it had done inside. With one accord the
+crowd broke and ran, Watkins well in the lead.
+
+"Randolph came inside, lighted the lamp, and tossed off the brandy.
+
+"'By Gad, suh,' he drawled with a laugh. 'They really thought they were
+going to be murdered. You Yankees don't seem gifted with any sense of
+humor. Here, Moses, run around to my friends' rooms and give them my
+compliments and invite them all to the tavern for a bowl of punch.'"
+
+Ralph clapped his hands together.
+
+"Right in this very room!" he cried, "right in this room!" Then he
+jumped to his feet and again critically examined the door. "Just as
+fresh as ever!" he remarked delightedly. "Why, but that Randolph was a
+ripper! And to think it all happened right between these four walls and
+we never have heard a word about it before!"
+
+"Tell us some more about him," said I. "What did the faculty say?"
+
+"The faculty considered the case," replied Mr. Curtis, "but we never
+heard from them in regard to it. Of course the story got all around the
+college and Watkins was unmercifully guyed. But he had his turn."
+
+"How was that?" inquired Ralph. "Do go on."
+
+"I don't know," returned Mr. Curtis. "What do you think of Randolph?"
+
+"The best ever!" pronounced Ralph with conviction.
+
+"It's hard to resist such an enthusiastic audience--and so insistent,"
+smiled Mr. Curtis. "Well, they let him alone after that, and he pursued
+the even tenor of his way and increased in wisdom and stature and in
+favor--at least with man.
+
+"I can only tell you about Randolph's leaving college, and that takes me
+to those sadder times of which I spoke. It was late in the spring, when
+none of us had any longer time or inclination to think of college
+distinctions or college jealousies. We were all overwhelmed at the
+thought of the impending conflict. Already most of the Southerners had
+departed for their homes.
+
+"You see, I'm trying to give you an impression--a picture of a chap I
+believe to have been one of the truest gentlemen that ever came here--I
+feel you're entitled to know whose room it is you occupy and to share in
+these memories, which are, after all, the best thing left in my lonely
+old bachelor existence. When I tell you the rest and how we parted never
+to meet again you won't be able to get a true understanding of it unless
+you can grasp the real spirit of the times, the environment, the
+intensity of the whole affair.
+
+"Here I was rooming with a flamboyant Southerner who fully intended to
+enlist as soon as his native State should declare herself, when four of
+my uncles had already joined the Union army. Of course I wanted to go,
+but my father wouldn't hear of it. The whole miserable business only
+drew Randolph and me the closer together. I do not think that his
+performance with the pistol had increased his popularity; in fact, the
+sympathies of the undergraduates seemed on the whole to be with Watkins,
+and the general sentiment that he was the aggrieved party. If Dick had
+taken his medicine in good part it would doubtless have been better for
+him in the end. You see, it gave his slanderers a handle and they made
+the most of it. Neither did he abate any of those idiosyncrasies of
+which I have spoken, but simply out of bravado, I suppose, rather let
+himself go. His cravats increased in brilliancy, his waistcoats
+multiplied their colors, and he was always careering around on Azam
+through the Yard and Harvard Square. He had a trick of riding suddenly
+out of nowhere, and appearing at recitations on horseback, turning his
+beast over to Moses at the door until the lecture had concluded. I have
+known Randolph at this period to keep his horse waiting an hour in order
+that he might ride him the length of the Yard. Don't get the impression
+that I am criticising him unfavorably; I am merely endeavoring to give
+you the point of view of the outsiders who didn't like him. By April the
+class was pretty evenly divided on the Randolph question. To half of us
+he was a rather Quixotic hero--to the rest a sort of cheap _poseur_.
+Watkins was untiring in his innuendoes, and in this he was aided to a
+considerable extent by the bitterness of the feeling between North and
+South. Of course, everything possible was being done to conciliate the
+Southern States, and it was the aim of the entire North to avert if
+possible an open rupture. At the theaters the most popular music was
+the old Southern airs and plantation melodies, and the audiences
+conscientiously cheered when 'Dixie' was played. Naturally this was
+vastly gratifying to Randolph, who failed, it seemed to me, to realize
+its significance. I don't think that anyone really believed actual
+hostilities would occur.
+
+"Then like a lash across our faces came the firing on Sumter. The whole
+North gasped and then the blood boiled in our veins. Right here under
+these trees the war fever burned hottest.
+
+"That night will never be forgotten by the class of '64. A huge
+gathering of students filled the Yard, lights twinkled in all the
+windows, torches flared here and there among the tree trunks, while
+between Stoughton Hall and where Thayer now stands, just in front of
+these very windows, the fellows concentrated in a solid mass, cheering
+the Union again and again, as flights of rockets burst high above the
+trees, sending down their floating canopies of sparks. Into that big
+elm, out there, some of the seniors were hoisting a transparency,
+bearing upon one side the words, 'The Constitution and Enforcement of
+the Laws,' and upon the other, 'Harvard for War.'
+
+"I was sitting in this window--Randolph in that. Perhaps I should have
+been out on the grass shouting with the others, but the loneliest fellow
+in Cambridge was at my side. Poor old chap! No wonder he was gloomily
+silent. Outside the cheering continued and the rockets roared away over
+the tops of the old buildings, until the students, forming into an
+irregular procession, marched away singing patriotic airs, some to go to
+their rooms, but most to pass the remainder of the evening at the
+tavern, discussing the President's proclamation.
+
+"Dick got up quietly and came over to the window. 'Jack,' he said
+sadly, 'the game's about up with me. I can't stay here any longer. Now
+that war is an actuality, I must go home, and the sooner the better.'
+
+"'But Virginia hasn't seceded,' I answered, 'and most likely won't. If
+she does there will be time enough for you to go.'
+
+"'Virginia _will_ secede,' he replied, 'and blood will be shed in this
+cursed quarrel within two weeks. I can't stay here when I might be at
+home helping on the cause. I shall think you are acting from interested
+motives,' he added, smiling.
+
+"'What does your mother say?'
+
+"'That's the trouble. She wants me to stay.'
+
+"I read the letter which he handed me. It was plain enough. The good
+lady desired to keep her only son out of harm's way just as long as
+possible, although through it all I could perceive her consciousness of
+the futility of any idea of preventing a Randolph from taking an active
+part, in the event of the secession of his native State. I urged
+parental duty and the foolishness of taking for granted something that
+might not happen at all. He, of course, was keen for fighting anyhow,
+but he was prepared to stand by his State's decision.
+
+"Of course, you couldn't blame a woman for wanting to keep her only son
+from throwing his life away. From the very first I had a presentiment
+that that was what it would amount to, and I was for doing all I could
+to help her carry out her purpose.
+
+"But as the days dragged on it became harder and harder to keep Randolph
+in Cambridge. You see, by that time he was practically the only
+Southerner left there, and he found himself in a strangely awkward, not
+to say painful, position. Even some of his friends, while their manner
+toward him remained the same, ceased to come as frequently to our room.
+
+"We kept trying to deceive ourselves all along about the seriousness of
+the crisis. None of us did much studying--Randolph, none at all. He rode
+about the country or sat in his room reading his last letters from the
+Hall, fretting to get away from Cambridge. Nor did his continued
+presence pass uncommented upon by the more fiery of our student
+patriots.
+
+"Several anonymous letters suggesting that his presence in Cambridge was
+undesirable had been left at his room, while, quite accidentally of
+course, it frequently happened that the sidewalk in front of our windows
+was selected as the forum for vehement denunciation of the South, of
+slavery and slaveholders. Randolph gripped his pipe grimly between his
+teeth and held his head higher than ever. Once he actually tried to
+address a meeting in front of the post office on the Inherent Right of
+Secession. But he was groaned down. While few of us had been
+Abolitionists we were now all Unionists, and '_Harvard was for war_.'
+
+"After this experience I noticed a change in his demeanor, for there
+were among that shouting, hissing crowd several who had been his
+friends. Although he must have known that Virginia's supposed loyalty
+was but a pretext on the part of his mother to keep him out of danger,
+his devotion to her was such that he remained without a word to bear the
+whips and scorns of time and the humiliation of his position, waiting
+manfully until the official action of the government of Virginia should
+set him free.
+
+"It must have been exquisite torture for a chap of his high spirit to be
+obliged to hear his principles and those of his father denounced on
+every side, and the South that he really loved with all his heart
+charged with treachery and infidelity.
+
+"In those days the top story of Dane was used by the upper classmen and
+the members of the Law School as a debating hall, their discussions
+being frequently marked by personalities and a bitterness of invective
+unparalleled even in the national Senate and House of Representatives.
+After the firing upon Sumter these meetings grew more and more
+turbulent, and were held almost daily.
+
+"Randolph had at last made up his mind that he would wait but a week
+longer at the latest, and had notified his mother of his decision. He
+intended to leave Cambridge on April 18th, and nothing that I could say
+had been able to shake his determination. I am inclined to believe that
+the action of Virginia on the question of secession would not have made
+any difference to him at this time. We had watched the departure of the
+Sixth and Eighth Massachusetts regiments for Washington, and you can
+easily imagine how irksome his enforced inaction must have been. All his
+arrangements had been completed and he and Moses were to leave Boston on
+an early morning train for the South.
+
+"The morning of the 17th dawned clear and brilliant. I left Dick and
+Moses packing books and dismantling the room, and walked across the Yard
+to a recitation in Massachusetts Hall. After that I remember I attended
+a lecture in some scientific course, chemistry, I believe, in
+University, and about eleven o'clock wandered over to the square to see
+if there were any fresh war bulletins. A group of excited people was
+gathered about the telegraph office gesticulating toward a strip of
+foolscap pasted in the window, and it was really unnecessary for me to
+push my way among them and read what was written there: '_Virginia
+secedes_.' The words had almost a familiar look--we had waited for them
+so long.
+
+"With the intention of telling Randolph the news I hurried across the
+square. I did not get far, however. Just on the other side, tethered to
+a post in front of the door of Dane Hall, stood Azam. He whinnied when
+he saw me, for by this time we were old friends. His presence there
+could only mean that Dick was inside, and with a qualm of apprehension I
+pushed open the door and started up the stairs. From above came the hum
+of voices followed by confusion and silence. Then as I reached the
+landing I caught the tones of a familiar voice--Randolph's--and hurrying
+up the flight leading to the second story breathlessly opened the door
+into the hall. It was packed with students and hot almost to
+suffocation, while the grins on most of the faces of those near me
+showed plainly the state of their feelings toward the speaker.
+
+"In the middle of the room, in a sort of cleared space, stood Randolph,
+dressed with his customary braggadocio in riding boots, spurs, and
+gauntlets. Whip and hat lay before him on the floor. The crowd were
+jeering, and his face was flushed with an angry red--a thing I'd never
+seen before.
+
+"'Virginia has seceded,' he shouted, challenging the whole room with a
+defiant glance. 'I thank God for it! Had she remained three days longer
+in the Union I should have felt my native State humiliated. She has been
+the last to take up the sword against oppression. Now may she be the
+last to lay it down. For the last decade the rights of Virginia and of
+the South have been trampled under foot. She has borne slander and
+insult. She has bowed to an unlawful interpretation of the Constitution
+and unjust administration of the laws. She has seen her lawful property
+snatched from her outstretched hands. They tell me she has rebelled--I
+rejoice that Virginia has resisted! Who dares say that a sovereign
+State, who by her assent alone was joined to a union of other States,
+has not the right to separate herself from them when such a partnership
+has become intolerable!'
+
+"He was being continually interrupted by hisses and groans and sarcastic
+comments from all sides, but he continued unabashed:
+
+"'Do you realize that you who once threw off the yoke of England have
+yourselves become oppressors and are trampling the sacred rights of
+others wantonly under foot? That you have become destroyers of liberty?
+Virginia!--Virginia--' His voice broke. Absurdly theatrical as it all
+was, I believe he had some of the fellows with him. Then Watkins
+shouted:
+
+'She is a traitor!'
+
+"'That's a lie!' replied the orator fiercely.
+
+"I never quite knew how Watkins had the nerve, but I suppose he thought
+that Randolph was down and out, and he may have really believed that
+poor Dick was just a swaggering braggart, after all. Anyhow, before any
+of us realized what had happened, he had sprung forward and struck
+Randolph in the face with his cap, exclaiming:
+
+'Take that, you _Reb_!'
+
+"An extraordinary stillness fell upon us. I thought for a moment that
+Randolph would fall, for he turned deathly pale and his hands twitched
+as if he were going to have an epileptic fit. He swayed, recovered
+himself, tried to speak, choked, and finally said in a hoarse whisper:
+
+"'I suppose you understand what that means?'
+
+"Then in the silence he stooped, picked up his whip and hat, and looking
+straight before him strode out of the hall. I followed automatically.
+
+"The door behind us shut out a tremendous roar of laughter, in which
+could be distinguished cries of 'You're done for now, Watkins!' 'Better
+make your will, old chap!' We were hardly clear of the building before
+the whole meeting adjourned with a rush, pounding down the stairs with
+such impetuosity that it is a wonder they didn't carry the rickety
+structure along with them.
+
+"Shades of John Harvard and Cotton Mather! A duel was to be fought in
+Harvard College! The rumor flew from the college pump to the tavern; it
+sprang from lip to lip--from window to window; sneaked by professors'
+houses in silence; and burst into garrulity upon the steps of Hollis and
+Stoughton. If you had asked one from the jocular groups gathered in
+front of the different buildings and upon the gravel paths what was to
+pay, he would probably have replied with a twinkle in his eye,
+'_Virginia has seceded._'
+
+"I must confess to you that I felt like a fool. It was the same feeling
+that I had experienced in a lesser degree when my cavalier had kissed
+the hand of old Mrs. Podridge, but now it was clear I was playing Sancho
+Panza in earnest. I had followed Dick to the room and pleaded with him
+in vain. He was impervious to argument. There could be only one thing
+done under the circumstances. There was no question about it at all. He
+failed utterly to comprehend my alleged attitude in the case, or at any
+rate pretended to do so. Why hadn't he thrashed Watkins then and there?
+Simply because by so doing he'd have made himself nothing more nor less
+than a common brawler. It was not a case of a street fight, but of
+insulting a man's honor.
+
+"Of course I might have thrown him over. But somehow I couldn't leave
+Randolph to face the music all alone, and I knew well enough that
+laughter would be far harder for him to bear than the actual hatred or
+disapproval of his associates. And then he was going away the following
+morning and I might never see him again.
+
+"I'd hoped, and in fact expected, that Watkins would laugh in my face
+when I submitted Randolph's challenge. It would have been quite in
+keeping with the fellow's character and past performances, but he took
+the wind entirely out of my sails by the gravity with which he listened
+to what I had to say, and unhesitatingly chose '_pistols at twenty
+paces_.' Up to that time I'd felt merely that Dick had made an ass of
+himself and had rather unnecessarily dragged me into it, but now the
+other aspect of the thing--that I might become the accessory to a
+homicide--caused me a feeling of revolt against having anything to do
+with the affair.
+
+"I completed my arrangements with Watkins's second, a fellow named
+Scott, as quickly as possible, leaving to him most of the details. And
+then Dick and I took a long ride together in the country, supping at a
+farmhouse and not reaching home until after nine o'clock.
+
+"Randolph roused me from fitful slumbers early next morning by holding
+the lamp to my face, and I saw that he was fully dressed.
+
+"'You haven't been to bed at all!' I cried in reproach.
+
+"'I had no time. I've been writing,' he replied, as he replaced the
+lamp in the study. A dim suggestion of the dawn came through the
+windows, and the complete silence was broken only by the snapping of the
+fire which Moses had kindled and over which he was boiling coffee. While
+I hurried into my clothes Dick reëntered my room with a packet in his
+hand and sat down upon the bed.
+
+"'Jack,' said he, cheerily enough, 'of course there's no use disguising
+things. The beggar may wing me, and if anything happens I want you to
+take this to my mother. I'd like you to have the horses and--and Jim.
+You'll see that Moses gets back, won't you?'
+
+"O Dick!' I almost sobbed. 'Of course I'll do exactly as you say, but
+it's not too late, and perhaps Watkins will apologize or agree to fight
+it out with fists. What's the use of shooting at each other?'
+
+"'You can't understand!' he sighed. 'Well, here's the packet. Don't
+forget now.' He began to whistle 'Dixie' and oil his pistols. Two years
+later I learned that his father had been killed in a duel at Paxton
+Court House.
+
+"'Coffee's ready,' announced Moses. 'Look out, Marse Curtis, it's hot.'
+He laid two smoking cups upon the table, and Dick poured a finger of
+brandy into each.
+
+"'To the cause!' said he with a gay laugh.
+
+"'To the cause!' cried I.
+
+"And we drained them--each to his own.
+
+"From a distant steeple came four widely separated and mournful notes.
+
+"'We must be off!' exclaimed Dick, throwing on his greatcoat. 'Have the
+horses at the bridge, Moses, in twenty minutes.'
+
+"He thrust his pistol into his pocket and linking his arm through mine
+led me into the Yard. A cold mist hung over the lawn and the red
+buildings looked black in the vague light. A silence as of the grave was
+everywhere. At certain angles the windows looked out like blank,
+whitish, dead faces.
+
+"'On a morning like this,' remarked Dick, 'my great-aunt Shirley should
+be about. Joyful, isn't it?'
+
+"I was in no mood for joking. Already the effect of the brandy had
+vanished and a chill was creeping through my body. My arm trembled and
+Randolph felt it.
+
+"'Dear me, Jack!' he cried as we passed out into the Square, 'this will
+never do! Cheer up, man! Ague is contagious at this hour of the
+morning.'
+
+"I made a heroic effort to restrain the dance of my muscles. Our steps
+made a loud rattling on the cobblestones of the Square, but we met no
+one and were soon well on our way to the river. As we trudged along the
+sky grew lighter, and crossing the bridge I noticed that the roofs of
+old Cambridge showed black against the whiteness of the dawning.
+Everywhere the mist covered the downs with a thick mantle, and a light
+breeze had sprung up, which set it drifting and swirling fantastically.
+The creaking of the draw was the only sound in the heavy silence, save
+the lapping of the water against the sunken piles, and behind us the
+faint clatter of hoofs which told us that Moses was on his way.
+
+"We left the road and started across the downs, and the mist thinned as
+the day neared its breaking. A quarter of a mile away three figures
+moved slowly along the river.
+
+"Who's the third man?' asked Randolph.
+
+"'Watkins wanted a doctor,' I replied. He gave no answer, but strode
+rapidly over the harsh grass and dry reeds of the marshy fields. No
+note of bird added touch of life to the gray scene, and the three dim
+shapes before us seemed more like phantoms than fellow-creatures.
+Although warm from our half-mile walk, a cold perspiration broke out all
+over my body and I once more lost control of my muscles. Indeed, had not
+Dick pulled me somewhat roughly on, I doubt if my legs could have held
+me up, so intense was my fear of what was coming.
+
+"Scott, as we approached, came to meet us, and without further formality
+paced off the distance. Then, quite as if it were a common affair with
+him, he examined the priming of our pistols and offered them to me for
+selection. I took one, almost dropping it in my nervousness, and passed
+the weapon to Dick, who pressed my hand for a moment before
+relinquishing it. Hardly a word had been spoken, and before I knew it
+the two were in their places. The spot chosen was in a bend of the
+sluggish river, and at this point the mist had entirely blown away. Each
+raised his pistol and took aim, just as the first claret streaks of dawn
+shot up into the east. The water swept by, oily and purple, with here
+and there a swirl of iridescent color. A heron rose with a roar of
+flapping wings and rustled away into the mist, squawking harshly, and
+the strong, salt breath of the sea floated across the marshes and set me
+sneezing.
+
+"'One!' called Scott sharply. 'Two--three-- Fire!'
+
+"The two reports seemed but as one, two tiny spurts of white smoke
+leaped from the pistols, there was a sharp groan, and Watkins reeled,
+staggered, and fell upon his back among the reeds, his left hand
+grasping convulsively at a tuft of grass beside him. Randolph stood
+motionless with the smoking pistol in his hand, his eyes riveted upon
+the body on the ground, over which both the doctor and Scott were
+bending anxiously. Then the latter raised himself with a look of horror
+on his face, and said wildly:
+
+"'O God! You've killed him!'
+
+"'How is he, doctor?' asked Randolph unemotionally.
+
+"The doctor placed his hand to the heart of the man on the ground. Then
+he announced:
+
+"'He is dead. His heart has ceased to beat.'
+
+"I don't know exactly what happened after that. I think I fainted, for I
+have a dim recollection of some one thrusting a handkerchief strong with
+ammonia into my face. But the first thing I rightly recollect is
+striding hand in hand with Randolph over the downs toward the bridge,
+where Moses was in waiting with the two horses.
+
+"I was conscious of a hurried parting with Dick, of his saying that of
+course he could never come back, and that I must not think the less of
+him for what he had done, and that we must never forget one another. And
+then he leaped on Azam's back and galloped away in the direction of
+Boston with Moses riding hard behind him, just as the sun burst red
+above the roofs of Harvard College through the mist.
+
+"I stood there for a moment and then I ran, ran anywhere, until I
+thought that I should drop; until the pain in my side seemed eating me
+up; and when I really came to my senses I found myself wandering on the
+high road hard by Lexington. I sneaked into the back door of a farmhouse
+and asked for some milk and bread, but the woman refused me and, I
+thought, looked at me with suspicion. Probably they were already
+arranging for my arrest and a warrant had been issued. Visions of a
+trial as an accessory for murder in the East Cambridge court house, and
+of a judge with a black cap--a _hanging_ judge--nearly crazed me with
+apprehension. But I had only myself to blame. I could have prevented it.
+He could not have fought alone. And I remember feeling rather sorry for
+Watkins--that he hadn't been such a bad fellow, after all. I lay under a
+tree most of the afternoon, and I can't say which emotion was uppermost,
+fear or regret. It never entered my mind that I should escape with
+anything less than a long term in State's prison.
+
+"It came back to me again and again throughout that interminable
+afternoon, how, as I was hurrying with Dick across the downs after the
+fatal shot, and the sun had jumped above the roofs before us, I had
+turned for an instant and seen the doctor and Scott still bending over
+Watkins's body. Then, somehow realizing that flight was impossible, and
+feeling so utterly wretched that I cared nothing for what became of me,
+I begged a lift from a passing teamster most of the way back to
+Cambridge, and shortly after nine o'clock stealthily entered the College
+Yard. The dismantled room opened bare and empty like a sepulcher before
+me, and in its gravelike silence my steps echoed loudly as I crossed the
+floor and threw myself upon the window seat. With a rush the vanished
+happiness of our life together came over me. Never had any days been
+half so sweet as those we had passed in this very room. And now he had
+fled--a murderer--leaving me, his accomplice, to face the consequences
+alone.
+
+"Presently a group of fellows came strolling up the walk and seated
+themselves upon the step by the window, where Dick and I had always sat.
+I resented their presence, for it only served to heighten my desolation.
+One of them was evidently telling a funny story. For a moment or two I
+purposely paid no attention; then like a douche of cold water I
+recognized the voice. The revulsion of feeling almost sickened me.
+
+"'Yes,' the jubilant Watkins was saying, 'didn't I always say he was an
+ass? Why, the trick would've been impossible on any less of a fool.
+Curtis can't be much better. When the pistols were produced Scott merely
+turned his back and had no difficulty in reloading them with graphite
+bullets, for the mist was pretty thick, and he says Curtis was shivering
+like a wet dog. All I had to do was a little play-acting and, while I
+assure you it is easier to play dead than to play doctor, Hunt carried
+out his part to perfection. In fact, the whole thing went off like a
+full-dress rehearsal. Randolph must be half-way to Virginia by this
+time. I reckon they'll make him colonel of a regiment when they hear
+he's killed a Yankee in a duel!'"
+
+Mr. Curtis spoke with a shade of asperity in his voice, and from where I
+sat I could see disappointment in Ralph's face.
+
+"Why go further?" continued Mr. Curtis. "I brazened it out as best I
+could and denounced the whole wretched performance as a piece of
+unmitigated cowardice which should brand Watkins forever as unworthy the
+society of self-respecting men. The college, as a whole, however, did
+not take that position, although I never suffered very heavily for my
+part in the proceeding.
+
+"And now, boys, you've had the whole story, and you know, in part at
+least, something of what Randolph was like."
+
+"I bet I know that Watkins!" exclaimed Ralph. "Was his name _Samuel J._
+Watkins? There's a fellow in our class named Samuel J. Watkins, Jr. He
+makes me tired. Sometimes his father comes out to see him--an old fellow
+with bedspring whiskers. He looks just mean enough to put up a trick
+like that."
+
+"That was Watkins's name," admitted Mr. Curtis. "But he wasn't a bad
+fellow, after all, and later we became good friends." He took out his
+watch. "Heavens, it's half-past twelve! And to think I've been sitting
+here, the night before one of your examinations probably, dreaming away
+three hours and a half and boring you chaps to death. I had no idea it
+was so late."
+
+"I am awfully glad you did," said Ralph. "I tell you we don't have men
+like that nowadays. At least I don't know of any. But what became of
+Randolph--afterwards?"
+
+"Dick got it at Antietam!" he answered.
+
+Both of us felt very much embarrassed. But then, as Mr. Curtis lit
+another cigar, picked up his hat and cane, and held out his hand,
+Ralph's insatiable curiosity got the better of him.
+
+"And Moses--was that he with you to-day at the memorial service? We saw
+you, you know."
+
+"Yes," replied Mr. Curtis. "After Mrs. Randolph's death Moses came North
+to live with me."
+
+I thought Ralph had gone far enough, but I was rather glad afterwards
+that, as he took our guest's hand in parting, he said impulsively:
+
+"I think Mr. Randolph was a splendid gentleman!"
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note: The following typographical errors, present in the
+original text, have been corrected.
+
+"A shiver of terrror" was changed to "A shiver of terror".
+
+A quotation mark was removed before "Flynt was not here, was he?"
+
+"he in-inquired of 'Dooley'" was changed to "he inquired of 'Dooley'".
+
+"cabs, lan aus, and wagons" was changed to "cabs, landaus, and wagons".
+
+A quotation mark was added before "Sorry to have the game broken up".
+
+A misspaced quotation mark was moved from after "turning to the court"
+to before "that he would like to have his pistol".
+
+"in acordance with inviolable custom" was changed to "in accordance with
+inviolable custom".
+
+Some words, in particular Chinese place names, were spelled
+inconsistently in the original text.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mortmain, by Arthur Cheny Train
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORTMAIN ***
+
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mortmain, by Arthur Train.
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mortmain, by Arthur Cheny Train
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mortmain
+
+Author: Arthur Cheny Train
+
+Release Date: September 8, 2011 [EBook #37346]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORTMAIN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 339px;">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="339" height="500" alt="Mortmain by Arthur Train" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="wide" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 361px;"><a name="img1" id="img1"></a>
+<img src="images/image-1.jpg" width="361" height="500" alt="The problem, gentlemen, of limb-grafting has been
+solved." title="" />
+</div>
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;The problem, gentlemen, of limb-grafting has been
+solved.&#39;&quot; [<a href="#limbgraft">Page 4</a>]</p>
+
+
+<hr class="wide" />
+
+<h1><a name="MORTMAIN_STORY" id="MORTMAIN_STORY"></a>MORTMAIN</h1>
+
+<p class="center">BY<br />
+<span class="bigtext">ARTHUR TRAIN</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="center">NEW YORK<br />
+CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS<br />
+1928</p>
+
+<p class="center smalltext"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1907, by</span><br />
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY</p>
+
+<p class="center smalltext">COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY ESS ESS PUBLISHING COMPANY<br />
+COPYRIGHT, 1905, 1906, 1907, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY<br />
+COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY THE METROPOLITAN MAGAZINE COMPANY<br />
+COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY ASSOCIATED SUNDAY MAGAZINES<br />
+COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY THE BUTTERICK PUBLISHING COMPANY</p>
+
+<p class="center smalltext">Printed in the United States of America</p>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 115px;">
+<img src="images/logo.png" width="115" height="125" alt="publisher's logo" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="wide" />
+
+<p class="center">To<br />
+AMOS<br />
+ESNESTO AND SANDRO</p>
+
+<hr class="wide" />
+
+<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<table class="figcenter" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="Table of Contents">
+<tr>
+<td class="chapname smalltext">&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="chappage smalltext">PAGE</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="chapname">MORTMAIN</td>
+<td class="chappage"><a href="#MORTMAIN_STORY">1</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="chapname">THE RESCUE OF THEOPHILUS NEWBEGIN</td>
+<td class="chappage"><a href="#THE_RESCUE_OF_THEOPHILUS_NEWBEGIN">65</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="chapname">THE VAGABOND</td>
+<td class="chappage"><a href="#THE_VAGABOND">109</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="chapname">THE MAN HUNT</td>
+<td class="chappage"><a href="#THE_MAN_HUNT">131</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="chapname">NOT AT HOME</td>
+<td class="chappage"><a href="#NOT_AT_HOME">239</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="chapname">A STUDY IN SOCIOLOGY</td>
+<td class="chappage"><a href="#A_STUDY_IN_SOCIOLOGY">251</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="chapname">THE LITTLE FELLER</td>
+<td class="chappage"><a href="#THE_LITTLE_FELLER">269</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="chapname">RANDOLPH, '64</td>
+<td class="chappage"><a href="#RANDOLPH_64">275</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr class="wide" />
+
+<h2><a name="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS" id="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+<table class="figcenter" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="List of Illustrations">
+<tr>
+<td class="chapname smalltext">&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="chappage smalltext">FACING<br />PAGE</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="chapname">"'The problem, gentlemen, of limb-grafting has been solved!'"</td>
+<td class="chappage"><a href="#img1">Frontispiece</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="chapname">"Mortmain . . . lay motionless on the floor"</td>
+<td class="chappage"><a href="#img2">22</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="chapname">"His blunt fingers twisted into the flesh deeper and deeper"</td>
+<td class="chappage"><a href="#img3">56</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="chapname">"She . . . studied the faces alternately"</td>
+<td class="chappage"><a href="#img4">156</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="chapname">"The distinguished Flynn burst into a deluge of oratory"</td>
+<td class="chappage"><a href="#img5">262</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="chapname">"He caught sight of the waiting Maria"</td>
+<td class="chappage"><a href="#img6">266</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="chapname">"'Back,' he shouted"</td>
+<td class="chappage"><a href="#img7">296</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr class="wide" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="MORTMAIN" id="MORTMAIN"></a>MORTMAIN</h2>
+
+
+<h3 class="newchapter2"><a name="MORTMAIN_I" id="MORTMAIN_I"></a>I</h3>
+
+
+<p>Sir Penniston Crisp was a man of some sixty active years, whose ruddy
+cheeks, twinkling blue eyes, and convincingly innocent smile suggested
+forty. At thirty he had been accounted the most promising young surgeon
+in London; at forty he had become one of the three leading members of
+his profession; at fifty he had amassed a fortune and had begun to
+accept only those cases which involved complications of true scientific
+interest, or which came to him on the personal application of other
+distinguished physicians.</p>
+
+<p>Like many another in the medical world whose material wants are
+guaranteed, he found solace and amusement only in experimentation along
+new lines of his peculiar hobbies. His days were spent between his
+book-lined study with its cheery sea-coal fire and his adjacent
+laboratory, where three assistants, all trained Bachelors of Science,
+conducted experiments under his personal direction.</p>
+
+<p>His daily life was as well ordered as his career had been. Rising at
+seven, Sir Penniston partook of a meager breakfast, attended to his
+trifling personal affairs, read his newspaper, dictated his letters, and
+by nine was ready to don his uniform and receive his sterilized
+in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>struments from his young associate, Scalscope Jermyn, a capable and
+cheerful soul after Crisp's own heart. An operating theater adjoined the
+laboratory, and here the baronet made it a point to perform once each
+week, in the presence of various surgeons who attended by invitation, a
+few difficult and dangerous operations upon patients sent to him from
+the City Hospital.</p>
+
+<p>When Jermyn was with his familiars he was wont to refer to his master as
+the "howlingist cheese in surgery." This was putting it mildly, for,
+although Sir Penniston was indubitably, if you choose, quite the
+"howlingist cheese" in surgery, he was also a pathfinder, an explorer
+into the mysteries of the body and the essence of vitality in bone and
+tissue. He could do more things to a cat in twenty minutes than would
+naturally occur in the combined history of a thousand felines. He could
+handle the hidden arteries and vessels of the body as confidently and
+accurately as you or I would tie a shoe string. He had housed a tramp
+for thirteen months and inserted a plate-glass window in that
+gentleman's exterior in order that he might with the greater certainty
+study the complicated processes of a digestion stimulated after a
+chronic lack of food. He experimented on men, women, children,
+elephants, apes, ostriches, guinea pigs, rabbits, turtles, frogs, and
+goldfish. He could alter the shape of a nose, or perfect an irregular
+ear in the twinkling of an instrument; remove a human heart and insert
+it still beating without inconvenience to its owner; and was as much at
+home among the vessels of Thebesius as he was on Piccadilly Circus.</p>
+
+<p>He was single, kept but one servant&mdash;a Jap&mdash;neither smoked nor drank,
+attended the worst play he could find<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> every Saturday night, and gave
+ponderous dinners to his professional brethren on Wednesdays. He was the
+dean of his order, and bade fair to remain so for a long time to come&mdash;a
+calm, passionless craftsman in flesh and bone. His rivals frequently
+were heard to say that there was nothing surgical in heaven or earth
+that Crisp would not undertake. A faint odor of chloroform followed his
+well-regulated progress through existence.</p>
+
+<p>On the morning upon which this narrative opens Sir Penniston had entered
+his laboratory with that urbanity so characteristic of him. A white
+frock hung jauntily upon his well-filled, if slenderly nourished,
+proportions, his blue eyes sparkled with good-natured activity, and his
+long, muscular hands rubbed themselves together in a manner which
+signified that they were anxious to be at the skilled work in which
+their owner took so keen a pleasure. Scalscope was already on hand, and
+with a bundle of dripping instruments in his grasp met his master
+halfway between the minor operating table and the antiseptic bath.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, good morning, Scalscope! How is the Marchioness of Cheshire this
+fine morning?"</p>
+
+<p>Scalscope smiled deferentially at the little joke.</p>
+
+<p>"I presume you mean Lady Tabitha? Her ladyship is doing
+splendidly&mdash;better, I fancy, than could be expected under the
+circumstances."</p>
+
+<p>"Excellent, Scalscope! Delightful! Where is she?"</p>
+
+<p>At that moment a large Maltese cat, cognizant by some unknown instinct
+that she was the subject of this matutinal conversation, stalked slowly
+out of a patch of sunshine and rubbed herself between Sir Penniston's
+broadcloth-covered calves. The surgeon bent over and felt carefully of
+her foreleg, but the feline did not flinch;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> on the contrary, she
+screwed round her head and thrust it into the doctor's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Perfect!" exclaimed Sir Penniston, his face lighting with a smile of
+scientific satisfaction. "Absolutely perfect! Scalscope, you have lived
+to participate in the highest achievement of modern surgery! Is the
+patient in the operating room? Very good. The gentlemen assembled?
+Excellent! While you are administering the somni-chloride I will
+announce our success."</p>
+
+<p>He bowed to the other assistants and, followed by the Marchioness of
+Cheshire, opened the door which led to the platform of the operating
+theater. Some dozen or fifteen professional-looking gentlemen rose as he
+made his appearance and bowed. A young woman with her arm in a sling sat
+by the table attended by a couple of women nurses.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, gentlemen! Good morning!" remarked Sir Penniston. "Mr.
+Jermyn, will you kindly prepare the patient? My friends, I have the
+pleasure of being able to announce to you, and thus permitting you in a
+measure to share in, what I regard as the most extraordinary achievement
+of our profession."</p>
+
+<p>A murmur of interest and appreciation made itself audible from the
+physicians who had resumed their seats upon the benches. If Sir
+Penniston regarded anything as remarkable, it must indeed be so, and
+they awaited his next words expectantly.</p>
+
+<p><a name="limbgraft" id="limbgraft"></a>"The problem, gentlemen, of limb-grafting has been solved!" he announced
+modestly.</p>
+
+<p>The assembled surgeons gazed at one another in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"You may perhaps recall," continued the baronet, "that it has for years
+been my particular hobby, or, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> should more properly say, theory, that
+there was no reason in the world why, if a severed finger or a nose
+could be replaced by surgery, the same should not be true of a major
+part, such as a hand or leg; and why, if a limb once severed could be
+replaced upon its stump, another person's might not be used.</p>
+
+<p>"Many gentlemen eminent in our profession, some of whom I believe I see
+before me, gave it as their opinion that such an operation was
+impossible. A few&mdash;and most of these, I regret to say, were upon the
+other side of the Atlantic&mdash;agreed with me that it could and would
+ultimately be accomplished. I studied the problem for years. Was it our
+inability to nourish a part once severed or so to re&euml;nervate it as to
+unite tendons, muscles, or bone? The latter surely gave no trouble.
+Tendons were sutured every day, and under favorable circumstances their
+functions were restored, while nerves were frequently sutured and
+functional restoration recorded.</p>
+
+<p>"The question, therefore, seemed to narrow itself down to whether or not
+it was impossible to restore an arterial supply once cut off. Veins, of
+course, were frequently cut and sutured, and performed perfectly
+afterwards. Was there no way to restore an artery? In other words, could
+a limb once severed be sufficiently nourished to restore it? This, then,
+became my special study&mdash;a fascinating study indeed, involving as it did
+the possibilities of untold benefit to mankind."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Penniston paused and glanced toward the table upon which was
+extended the now almost unconscious form of the patient. There was still
+plenty of time for him to conclude his remarks.</p>
+
+<p>"With a view, therefore, to observing whether a thin glass tube would be
+tolerated in a sterilized state within<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> an artery (the only possible
+means I could devise to allow a continued flow of blood and
+contemporaneous restoration), I made a number of half-inch pieces to
+suit the caliber of a dog's femoral, constricted them very slightly to
+an hour-glass shape, and smoothed their ends by heat, so that no surface
+roughness should induce clotting. Cutting the femorals across, I tied
+each end on the tube by a fine silk thread, and tied the thread ends
+together. Primary union resulted, and the dog's legs were as good as
+ever! The first step had been successfully accomplished."</p>
+
+<p>The assembled surgeons clapped their hands faintly in token of
+appreciation, and one or two murmured, "My
+word!&mdash;Extraordinary!&mdash;Marvelous!" Sir Penniston bowed slightly and
+resumed:</p>
+
+<p>"I now added one more step to my experiments. I dissected out the
+trachial artery and vein near the axilla of a dog's forelimb, and,
+holding these apart, amputated the limb through the shoulder muscles and
+sawed through the bone, leaving the limb attached only by the vessels. I
+then sutured the bone with a silver wire and the nerves with fine silk.
+Each muscle I sutured by itself with catgut, making a separate series of
+continuous suturing of the <i>fascia lata</i> and skin. The leg was then
+enveloped in sterilized dressing, a liberal use of iodoform gauze being
+the essential part. Over all, cotton and a plaster jacket were placed,
+leaving him three legs to walk on. The dog's leg united perfectly."</p>
+
+<p>The assembled gentlemen broke into loud applause. The patient was lying
+motionless, her deep inspirations showing that she was under the
+an&aelig;sthetic. But Sir Penniston was now lost in the enthusiasm of his
+subject.</p>
+
+<p>"Thus, gentlemen, I demonstrated that, if in an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> amputated limb an
+artery could be left, the limb would survive the division and reuniting
+of everything else, and had good ground for the belief that if an
+arterial supply could be restored to a completely amputated limb, <i>that</i>
+limb also might be grafted back to its original or to a corresponding
+stump.</p>
+
+<p>"The final experiment only remained&mdash;the complete amputation of a limb
+and its restoration&mdash;a combination of all the others&mdash;difficult,
+dangerous, delicate&mdash;and requiring much preparation, assistance, and
+time. I finally selected a healthy cat, amputated its foreleg, inserted
+a glass tube in the artery, and sutured bone, muscles, nerves, and skin.
+Complete restoration occurred! And after four months you have here
+before you this morning the cat herself, fat, well, and strong, and as
+good as ever!&mdash;Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!"</p>
+
+<p>The Marchioness of Cheshire ran quickly to Sir Penniston and leaped into
+his lap, while the gentlemen left the benches and hastened forward to
+seize the master's hand and to examine the cat in wonder.</p>
+
+<p>"There is nothing, therefore, in the way of grafting which cannot be
+successfully undertaken. A human arm or leg crushed at thigh or
+shoulder, and requiring amputation, would admit of Esmarch's bandage
+being applied to expel its blood and of being used after amputation. Why
+not another man's blood as well as its owner's? No reason in the world!
+Had we here a suitable forearm ready to be applied I have no doubt but
+that I could successfully replace it upon the stump of the one I am now
+about to remove. Hereafter, so long as there are limbs enough to go
+round&mdash;so long as the demand does not transcend the supply&mdash;none of our
+patients need fear the permanent loss of a member!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>The surgeons overwhelmed him with their congratulations, but Sir
+Penniston modestly waived them aside. His triumph was the triumph of
+science&mdash;and its purity was not marred by any thought of personal
+glorification.</p>
+
+<p>"The Crispan operation," some one whispered. The others caught it up.
+"The Crispan operation," they repeated. A slight look of gratification
+made itself apparent upon Sir Penniston's rosy countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, gentlemen! Thank you! Mr. Jermyn, is the patient quite
+ready? Yes? We will proceed, gentlemen. My instruments, if you please."</p>
+
+<p>Among those who left the operating theater an hour later was Sir Richard
+Mortmain.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="newchapter"><a name="MORTMAIN_II" id="MORTMAIN_II"></a>II</h3>
+
+
+<p>The opalescent light from the bronze electric lamp on the mahogany
+writing table disclosed two gentlemen, whose attitudes and expressions
+left no doubt as to the serious import of their discussion. At the same
+time the <i>membra disjecta</i> of afternoon tea which remained upon the teak
+tabaret, together with the still smoking butt of an Egyptian cigarette
+distilling its incense in a steadily perpendicular gray column toward
+the ceiling from a jade jar used as an ash receiver, showed that for one
+of them at least the situation had admitted of physical amelioration.
+The gentleman beside the table had rested his high, narrow forehead upon
+the delicate fingers of his left hand, and with contracted eyebrows was
+gazing in a baffled manner toward his companion, who had extended his
+limbs at length before the heavy chair in which he reclined, and with
+his elbows upon its arms was holding his finger tips lightly against
+each other before his face. To those who knew Ashley Flynt this meant
+that the last word had been spoken, and that nothing remained but to
+accept the situation as he stated it and follow his advice.</p>
+
+<p>His heavy yet shrewd countenance, whose florid hue bespoke a modern
+adjustment of golf to a more traditional use of port, had that cold,
+vacant look which it displayed when the mind behind the mask had
+recorded Q.&nbsp;E.&nbsp;D. beneath its unseen demonstration. The gentle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>man at
+the table twitched his shoulders nervously, slowly raised his head, and
+leaned back into his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"And you say that there is absolutely nothing which can be done?" he
+repeated mechanically.</p>
+
+<p>"I have already told you, Sir Richard," replied Flynt in even, incisive
+tones, "that the last day of grace expires to-morrow. Unless the three
+notes are immediately taken up you will be forced into bankruptcy. Your
+property and expectations are already mortgaged for more than they are
+worth. Your assets of every sort will not return your creditors&mdash;I
+should say your creditor&mdash;fifteen per cent. Seventy-nine thousand
+pounds, principal and interest&mdash;can you raise it or even a substantial
+part of it? No, not five thousand! You have no choice, so far as I can
+see, but to go into bankruptcy, unless&mdash;" He hesitated rather
+deprecatingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" cried Sir Richard impatiently, "unless&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Unless you marry."</p>
+
+<p>The baronet drew himself up and a flush crept into his cheeks and across
+his forehead.</p>
+
+<p>"As your legal adviser," continued Flynt unperturbed, "I give it as my
+opinion that your only alternative to bankruptcy is a suitable marriage.
+Of course, for a man of your position in society a mere engagement might
+be enough to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard sprang quickly to his feet and stepped in front of his
+solicitor.</p>
+
+<p>"To induce the money lenders to advance the amount necessary to put me
+on my feet? Bah! Flynt, how dare you make such a suggestion! If you were
+not my solicitor&mdash;Good heavens, that I should ever be brought to this!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>Flynt shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"So far as that goes, bankruptcy is the cheapest way to pay one's
+debts."</p>
+
+<p>His client uttered an ejaculation of disgust. Then suddenly the red
+deepened in his cheeks and he clenched his white hand until the thin
+blue veins stood out like cords.</p>
+
+<p>"Curse him!" he cried in a voice shaken by anger. "Curse him now and
+hereafter! Why did I ever take advantage of his pretended generosity? He
+meant to ruin me! Why was I ever born with tastes that I could not
+afford to gratify? Why must I surround myself with music and flowers and
+marbles? He saw his chance, stimulated my extravagance, seduced my
+intellect, and now he casts me into the street a beggar! How I hate him!
+I believe I could <i>kill</i> him!"</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard turned quickly. The door had opened to admit the silent,
+deferential figure of Joyce, the butler.</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, Sir Richard. A clerk from Mr. Flynt's office, sir, with a
+package. Shall I let him in?"</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain still stood with his fist trembling in mid-air, and it was a
+moment before he regained sufficient control of himself to reply:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes; let him in."</p>
+
+<p>The butler nodded to some one just behind him, and a nondescript,
+undersized man cringingly entered the room and stood hesitatingly by the
+threshold.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you the papers, Flaggs?" inquired Flynt.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, sir," replied the other, drawing forth a bundle tied with red
+tape and handing it to his employer.</p>
+
+<p>"Very good. You need not return to the office. Good night."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>"Good night, sir. Thank you, sir," mumbled Flaggs, and casting a
+furtive, beetling glance in the direction of Sir Richard, he shambled
+out.</p>
+
+<p>The solicitor followed him with his eye until the door had closed behind
+him, and then shrugged his shoulders for the second time.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Sir Richard," he remarked, "many of our most distinguished
+peers have gone through bankruptcy. It will all be the same a year
+hence. Society will be as glad as ever to receive you. Your name will
+command the same respect and likely enough the same credit. Bankruptcy
+is still eminently respectable. As for Lord Russell&mdash;try to forget him.
+It is enough that you owe him the money."</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain's anger had been followed by the reaction of despair. Now he
+groped for a cigarette, and, drawing a jeweled match box from his
+pocket, lit it with trembling fingers.</p>
+
+<p>Flynt arose.</p>
+
+<p>"That's right!" he exclaimed; "just be sensible about it. Meet me
+to-morrow at my office at ten o'clock and we will call in Lord Russell's
+solicitors for a consultation. It will be amicable enough, I assure you.
+Well, I must be off. Good night." He extended his hand, but Mortmain had
+thrust his own into his trousers' pockets.</p>
+
+<p>"And you say nothing can prevent this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes," returned Flynt in a sarcastic tone; "I believe two things
+can do so."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed," inquired Sir Richard. "What may they be?"</p>
+
+<p>Flynt had stepped impatiently to the door, which he now held half open.
+Sir Richard had failed to send him a draft for his last bill.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>"A fire from heaven to consume the notes&mdash;coupled with the death of Lord
+Russell&mdash;or your own. Good night!"</p>
+
+<p>The door closed abruptly and Sir Richard Mortmain was left alone.</p>
+
+<p>"The death of Lord Russell or my own!" he repeated with a harsh laugh.
+"Agreeable fellow, Flynt!" Then the bitter smile died out of his face
+and the lines hardened. Over on the heavy onyx mantel, between two
+grotesque bronze Chinese vases from whose ponderous sides dragons with
+bristling teeth and claws writhed to escape, a S&egrave;vres clock chimed six,
+and was echoed by a dim booming from the outer hall.</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain glanced with regret about the little den that typified so
+perfectly the futility of his luxurious existence. The deadened walls
+admitted hardly a suggestion of the traffic outside. By a flower-set
+window the open piano still held the score of "Madame Butterfly," the
+opening performance of which he was to attend that evening with Lady
+Bella Forsythe. A bunch of lilies of the valley stood at his elbow upon
+the massive table that never bore anything upon its polished surface but
+an ancient manuscript, an etching, or a vase of flowers. Delicate
+cabinets showed row upon row of grotesque Capodimonte, rare S&egrave;vres and
+Dresden porcelains, jade, and other examples of ceramic art. Two
+Rembrandts, a Corot, and a profile by Whistler occupied the wall space.
+The mantel was given over to a few choice antique bronzes, covered with
+verdigris. The only concession to modern utilitarianism was an extension
+telephone standing upon a bracket in the corner behind the fireplace.</p>
+
+<p>The sole surviving member of his family, Mortmain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> had inherited from
+his father, Sir Mortimer, a discriminating intellect and artistic
+tastes, united with a gentle, engaging, and unambitious disposition,
+derived from his Italian mother. Carelessly indifferent to his social
+inferiors, or those whom he regarded as such, he was brilliantly
+entertaining with his equals&mdash;a man of moods, conservative in habit, yet
+devoted to society, expensive in his mode of life, given to
+hospitality&mdash;and a spendthrift. These qualities combined to make him
+caviare to the general, an enigma to the majority, and the favorite of
+the few, whose favorite he desired to be. He had never married, for his
+calculation and his laziness had jumped together to convince him that he
+could be more comfortable, more independent, and more free to pursue his
+music and kindred tastes, if single. Altogether, Sir Richard, though
+perhaps a trifle selfish, was by no means a bad fellow, and one whose
+temperament fitted him to be what he was&mdash;a leader in matters of taste,
+a connoisseur, and an esteemed member of the gay world.</p>
+
+<p>No doubt, as Flynt had suggested, he could have liberated himself
+financially by donning the golden shackles of an aristocratic marital
+slavery. But his soul revolted at the thought of marrying for money, not
+only at the moral aspect of it, but because a certain individual
+tranquillity had become necessary to his mode of life. He was forty and
+a creature of habit. A conventional marriage would be as intolerable as
+earning his living. On the other hand, the odium of a bankruptcy
+proceeding, the publicity, the vulgarity of it, and the loss of prestige
+and position which it would necessarily involve brought him face to face
+with the only alternative which Flynt had flung at him in parting&mdash;the
+death of Lord Russell or his own.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>He had known that without being told. Months before, the silver-mounted
+pistol which was to round out his consistently inconsistent existence
+had been concealed among the linen in the bureau of his Louis XV
+bedroom, but it was to be invoked only when no other course remained.
+That nothing else did remain was clear. Flynt had read his client's
+sentence in that brutally unconscious jest.</p>
+
+<p>On the day of his interview with Flynt he was one of the most highly
+regarded critics of music and art in London, and his own brilliant
+accomplishments as a virtuoso had been supplemented by a lavish
+generosity toward struggling painters and musicians who found easy
+access to his purse and table, if not to his heart.</p>
+
+<p>He had introduced Drausche, the Austrian pianist, to the musical world
+at a heavy financial loss and had made several costly donations to the
+British Museum, in addition to which his collection of scarabs was one
+of the most complete on record and demanded constant replenishing to
+keep up to date. His expensive habits had required money and plenty of
+it, and when his patrimony had been exhausted he had mortgaged his
+expectations in his uncle's estate to launch the Austrian genius. It had
+been a lamentable failure. Mortmain's friends had said plainly enough
+that Drausche could play no better than his patron. This of itself
+implied no mean talent, but the public had resolutely refused to pay
+five shillings a ticket to hear the pianist, and the money was gone. Sir
+Richard had found himself in the hollow position of playing M&aelig;cenas
+without the price, and rather than change his pose and his manner of
+life had borrowed twenty-five thousand pounds four years before from an
+elderly peer, who combined philanthropy and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> what some declared to be
+usury with a high degree of success.</p>
+
+<p>There were those who hinted that this eminently respectable aristocrat
+robbed Peter more than he paid Paul, but Lord Gordon Russell was a man
+with whose reputation it was not safe to take liberties. The next year
+Mortmain had renewed his note, and, in order to save his famous
+collection from being knocked down at Christie's, had borrowed
+twenty-five thousand more. The same thing happened the year after, and
+now all three notes were three days overdue.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard responded to the announcement of the little S&egrave;vres clock by
+pressing a button at the side of his desk, which summons was speedily
+answered by Joyce.</p>
+
+<p>"My fur coat, if you please, Joyce."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, sir." Joyce combined the eye of an eagle with the stolidity
+of an Egyptian mummy.</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain arose, stepped to the fire, rubbed his thin, carefully kept
+fingers together, then seated himself at the piano and played a few
+chords from the overture. As he sat there he looked anything but a
+bankrupt upon the eve of suicide&mdash;rather one would have said, a young
+Italian musician, just ready to receive and enjoy the crowning pleasures
+of life. The thin light of the heavily shaded lamps brought out the
+ivory paleness of his face and hands, and the delicate, sensitive
+outline of his form, as with eyes half closed and head thrown back he
+ran his fingers with facile skill across the keyboard.</p>
+
+<p>"Your coat, sir," said Joyce.</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain arose and presented his arms while the servant deftly threw on
+the seal-lined garment, and handed his master his silk hat, gloves, and
+gold-headed stick.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>"I am going for a short walk, Joyce. I shall be back by seven. You can
+reach me at the club, if necessary."</p>
+
+<p>Joyce held open the door of the study and then hurried ahead through the
+luxuriously furnished hall to push open the massive door at the
+entrance. On the threshold Mortmain turned and, looking Joyce in the
+eye, said sharply:</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you let that fellow Flaggs follow you to the door of my study,
+instead of leaving him in the hall?"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg pardon, sir," replied the servant, "but he slipped behind me
+afore I knew it, sir. He was a rum one, anyway, sir&mdash;a bit in liquor, I
+fancy, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain turned and passed out without reply. He hated intruders and had
+not liked the way in which Flynt had calmly received the clerk in his
+private study. On the whole, he regarded the solicitor as presuming.</p>
+
+<p>It was dark already and the street lamps glowed nebulously through the
+gathering fog. The air was chilly, and a thick mealy paste, half sleet,
+half water, formed a sort of icing upon the sidewalk, which made walking
+slippery and uncomfortable. Few people were abroad, for fashionable
+London was in its clubs and boudoirs, and the workers trudged in an
+entirely different direction.</p>
+
+<p>The club was but a few streets away, and it was only ten minutes after
+the hour when he entered it and strolled carelessly through the rooms.
+No one whom he cared particularly to see was there, and the fresh, if
+bitter, December air outside seemed vastly preferable to the stuffy
+atmosphere of the smoke-filled card and reading<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> rooms. Therefore, as he
+had nearly an hour before it would be time to dress, he left the club,
+and, with the vague idea of extending his evening ramble, turned
+northward. Unconsciously he kept repeating Flynt's words: "The death of
+Lord Russell or your own." Then, without heed to where he was going, he
+fell into a reverie, in which he pondered upon the emptiness and
+uselessness of his life.</p>
+
+<p>At length he entered a large square, and found himself asking what was
+so familiar in the picket fence and broad flight of steps that led up to
+the main entrance of the mansion on the corner. A wing of the house made
+out into a side street and presented three brilliantly lighted windows
+to the night. Two were empty, but on the white shade of the third, only
+a few feet above the sidewalk, appeared the sharp shadow of a man's head
+bending over a table. Now and then the lips moved as if their owner were
+addressing some other occupant of the chamber. It was the head of an old
+man, bald and shrunken.</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain muttered an oath. What tricks was Fate trying to play with him
+by leading his footsteps to the house of the very man who, on the
+following morning, would ruin him as inevitably and inexorably as the
+sun would rise! A wave of anger surged through him and he shook his fist
+at the shadow on the curtain, exclaiming as he had done in his study
+half an hour before, "Curse him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't got much bloomin' 'air, 'as 'e, guv'nor?" said a thick voice at
+his elbow.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard started back and beheld by the indistinct light of the
+street lamp the leering face of Flaggs, the clerk.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>"Tha'sh yer frien' S'Gordon Russell," continued the other with easy
+familiarity. "A bloomin' bad un, says I. 'Orrid li'l bald 'ead! Got'sh
+notes, too. <i>Your</i> notes, S'Richard. Don't like 'im myself!"</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain turned faint. This wretched scrivener had stumbled upon or
+overheard his secret. That he was drunk was obvious, but that only made
+him the more dangerous.</p>
+
+<p>"Take yourself off, my man. It's too cold out here for you," ordered the
+baronet, slipping a couple of shillings into his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Than' you, S'Richard," mumbled Flaggs, leaning heavily in Mortmain's
+direction. "I accept this as a 'refresher.' Although you've never given
+me a retainer! Ha! ha! Not so bad, eh? Lemme tell you somethin'. 'Like
+to kill 'im,' says you? Kill 'im, says I. Le's kill 'im together. 'Ere
+an' now! Eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Leave me, do you hear?" cried the baronet. "You're in no condition to
+be on the street."</p>
+
+<p>Flaggs grinned a sickly grin.</p>
+
+<p>"Same errand as you, your worship. Both 'ere lookin' at li'l old bald
+'ead. Look at 'im now&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He raised his finger and pointed at the window, then staggered backward,
+lost his balance, and fell over the curb along the gutter. In another
+instant a policeman had him by the collar and had jerked him to his
+feet. The fall had so dazed the clerk that he made no resistance.</p>
+
+<p>"I 'ope 'e didn't hoffer you no violence, Sir Richard," remarked the
+bobby, touching his helmet with his unoccupied hand. "Hit's
+disgraceful&mdash;right in front of Lord Russell's, too!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, he was merely offensive," replied Mortmain,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> recognizing the
+policeman as an old timer on the beat. "Thank you. Good night."</p>
+
+<p>The baronet turned away as the bobby started toward the station house,
+conducting his bewildered victim by the nape of the neck. Without
+heeding direction, Mortmain strode on, trying to forget the drunken
+Flaggs and the little bald head in the window. The clerk's words had
+created in him a feeling of actual nausea, so that a perspiration broke
+out all over his body and he walked uncertainly. After he had covered
+half a mile or so, the air revived him, and, having taken his bearings,
+he made a wide circle so as to avoid Farringham Square again, and at the
+same time to approach his own house from the direction opposite to that
+in which he had started. He still felt shocked and ill&mdash;the same
+sensation which he had once experienced on seeing two navvies fighting
+outside a music hall. He remembered afterwards that there seemed to be
+more people on the streets as he neared his home, and that a patrol
+wagon passed at a gallop in the same direction. A hundred yards farther
+on he saw a long envelope lying in the slush upon the sidewalk, and
+mechanically he picked it up and thrust it in the pocket of his coat.
+Joyce came to the door just as the hall clock boomed seven. Sir Richard
+had been gone exactly an hour.</p>
+
+<p>"Fetch me a brandy and soda," ordered the baronet huskily, and stepped
+into the study without removing his furs. The fire had been replenished
+and was cracking merrily, but it sent no answering glow through Sir
+Richard's frame. The shadow of the little bald head still rested like a
+weight upon his brain, and his hands were moist and clammy. He thrust
+them into his pockets and came into contact with the wet manila cover
+of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> the envelope, and he drew it forth and tossed it upon the table as
+Joyce entered with the brandy.</p>
+
+<p>The butler removed his master's coat and noiselessly left the room,
+while Mortmain drained the glass and then carelessly examined the
+envelope. The names of "Flynt, Steele &amp; Burnham" printed in the upper
+left-hand corner caught his eye. The names of his own solicitors! That
+was a peculiar thing. Perhaps Flynt had dropped it&mdash;or Flaggs. He turned
+it over curiously. It was unsealed, as if it had formed one of a package
+of papers. The baronet lifted the envelope to the lamp and peeped within
+it. There were three thin sheets of paper covered with writing, and
+unconsciously he drew them forth and examined them. At the foot of each,
+in delicate, firm characters, appeared his own name staring him
+familiarly in the face. In the corners were the unmistakable figures
+&pound;25,000. He rubbed his forehead and read all three carefully. There
+could be no doubt of it&mdash;they were his own three notes of hand to Lord
+Gordon Russell. Fate was playing tricks with him again.</p>
+
+<p>"A fire from heaven to consume the notes," Flynt had said. Here were the
+notes&mdash;there was the fire. Had Heaven perhaps really interposed to save
+him? Was this chance or Providence? With a short breath the baronet
+grasped the notes and took a step toward the hearth. As he did so the
+extension telephone by the mantel began to ring excitedly. His heart
+thumped loudly as, with a feeling of guilt, he relaid the notes upon the
+table and seized the telephone.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;yes&mdash;this is Mortmain!"</p>
+
+<p>"Richard," came the voice of a friend at the club in anxious tones, "are
+you there? Are you at home?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>"Yes&mdash;yes!" repeated the baronet breathlessly. "What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Have you heard the news&mdash;the news about Lord Russell?"</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain's head swam with a whirl of premonition.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he replied, trying to master himself, while the perspiration again
+broke out over his body. "What news? What has happened?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lord Russell was murdered in his library at half after six this
+evening. Some one gained access to the room and killed the old man at
+his study table."</p>
+
+<p>"Killed Lord Russell!" gasped Sir Richard. "Have they caught the
+murderer?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," continued his friend. "The assassin escaped by one of the windows
+into the street. The police have taken possession. There is nothing to
+indicate who did the deed. There was blood everywhere. His secretary, a
+man named Leach, was discharged two days ago and a general alarm has
+been sent out for him."</p>
+
+<p>"This is terrible," groaned Sir Richard in horror.</p>
+
+<p>"It is, indeed. I thought you ought to know. I may see you at the opera.
+If not&mdash;good night."</p>
+
+<p>The receiver fell from the baronet's fingers, and the room grew black as
+he clutched at the mantel with his other hand. He staggered slightly,
+tried to regain his equilibrium, and in so doing upset one of the bronze
+dragon vases which grinned down upon him.</p>
+
+<p>The vase fell, and the baronet clutched at it in its descent. It was too
+late. The heavy bronze crashed downward to the floor carrying Sir
+Richard with it, and one of the verdigris-covered dragon's fangs pierced
+his right hand.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>Mortmain uttered a moan and lay motionless on the floor. The little
+S&egrave;vres clock ticked off forty seconds and then softly chimed the
+quarter, while the blood from the baronet's hand spurted in a tiny
+stream upon the rug.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a name="img2" id="img2"></a>
+<img src="images/image-2.jpg" width="500" height="371" alt="Mortmain . . . lay motionless on the floor." title="" />
+</div>
+<p class="caption">&quot;Mortmain . . . lay motionless on the floor.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="newchapter"><a name="MORTMAIN_III" id="MORTMAIN_III"></a>III</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Sir Richard Mortmain next opened his eyes after his fall he found
+himself in his bedchamber. The curtains were tightly drawn, allowing
+only a shimmer of sunshine to creep in and play upon the ceiling; an
+unknown woman in a nurse's uniform was sitting motionless at the foot of
+his bed; the air was heavy with the pungent odor of iodoform, and his
+right arm, tightly bandaged and lying extended upon a wooden support
+before him, throbbed with burning pains. Too weak to move, unable to
+recall what had brought him to such a pass, he raised his eyebrows
+inquiringly, and in reply the nurse laid her finger upon her lips and
+reaching toward a stand beside the bed held a tumbler containing a glass
+tube to the baronet's lips. Mortmain sucked the contents from the
+tumbler and felt his pulse strengthen&mdash;then weakness manifested itself
+and he sank back, his lips framing the unspoken question, "What has
+happened?"</p>
+
+<p>The nurse smiled&mdash;she was a pretty, plump young person&mdash;not the kind Sir
+Richard favored (Burne-Jones was his type), and whispered:</p>
+
+<p>"You have been unconscious over twelve hours. You must lie still. You
+have had a bad fall and your hand is injured."</p>
+
+<p>In some strange and unaccountable way the statement called to Mortmain's
+fuddled senses a confused rec<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>ollection of a scene in Hauptmann's "Die
+Versunkene Gl&ouml;cke," and half unconsciously he repeated the words:</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>fell</i>. I&mdash;fe&mdash;l&mdash;l!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you did, indeed!" retorted the pretty nurse. "But Sir Penniston
+will never forgive me if I let you talk. How is your arm?"</p>
+
+<p>"It burns&mdash;and burns!" answered the baronet.</p>
+
+<p>"That horrid vase crushed right through the palm. Rather a nasty wound.
+But you will be all right presently. Do you wish anything?"</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly complete mental capacity rushed back to him. The disagreeable
+scene with Flaggs, the finding of the notes, the news of Russell's
+murder, and his accident. The murder! He must learn the details. And the
+notes. What had he done with them? He could not recollect, try hard as
+he would. Were they on the table? His head whirled and he grew suddenly
+faint. The nurse poured out another tumbler from a bottle and again held
+the tube to his lips. How delicious and strengthening it was!</p>
+
+<p>"Please get me a newspaper!" said Sir Richard.</p>
+
+<p>"A newspaper!" cried the nurse. "Nonsense! I'll do no such thing!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then please see if there are some papers in an envelope lying on the
+writing table in my private study."</p>
+
+<p>The nurse seemed puzzled. Where aristocratic patients were concerned,
+particularly if they were in a weakened condition, she was accustomed to
+accommodate them. She hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"At once!" added Sir Richard.</p>
+
+<p>The nurse tiptoed out of the room, and in the course of a few moments
+returned.</p>
+
+<p>"The butler says that Mr. Flynt's clerk, a man named<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> Faggs, or Flaggs,
+or something of the sort, came back for them half an hour ago. He
+explained that he thought Mr. Flynt might have left some papers by
+mistake, and the butler supposed it was all right and let him have them.
+The name of your solicitors was upon the envelope."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard stared at her stupidly. A queer feeling of horror and
+distrust pervaded him, the very same feeling which his first sight of
+the clerk had inspired in him. What could Flaggs have known of the
+notes? The clerk himself could not have committed the ghastly deed,
+since he had been under arrest at the time&mdash;but might he not have been
+an accomplice? Were the notes part of some terrible plot to enmesh
+<i>him</i>, Sir Richard Mortmain, in the murder? Was it a scheme of
+blackmail? The blood surged to his head and dimmed his eyesight. But why
+had Flaggs taken them away? Had he left them on the street hoping that
+Sir Richard would find them and bring them into the house, so that he
+could testify to having found them in the study? But, if so, why had he
+risked the possibility of their having been destroyed before he could
+regain them? Such a supposition was most unlikely. It must have been
+merely chance. The fellow had probably sneaked in simply to see what he
+could find. And what had he found! A shiver of terror quenched for an
+instant the burning of Mortmain's body. A horrible vision of himself
+standing outside the window of Lord Gordon Russell took shape before
+him. What if people should say&mdash;! He had been heard by Joyce and the
+clerk to express his hatred of the old man and his willingness to kill
+him. In addition there were the notes, overdue and about to be
+protested, which Flaggs had found in his study within twelve hours of
+Lord<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> Russell's murder. Motive enough for any crime. Moreover, the
+policeman had seen him loitering there at almost the exact moment of the
+homicide!</p>
+
+<p>These momentous facts came crashing down upon his brain with the weight
+of stones, numbing for an instant his exquisite torture&mdash;then reason
+reasserted herself. Lord Russell was dead. If circumstances seemed to
+point in his direction, he had only to deny that the notes had been in
+his possession, and certainly his word would be taken as against that of
+the drunken clerk of a solicitor. Moreover, the notes were obviously not
+in the possession of the executors. Should, by any chance, no memoranda
+of them remain he might never be called upon to honor them. At all
+events, his bankruptcy had, for the time at least, been averted. Even
+were their existence known, legal procedure would intervene to give him
+time to evolve some means of escape&mdash;perhaps, in default of aught else,
+a marriage of convenience. Sir Richard, in spite of the burning pain in
+his right arm, leaned back his head with a sensation of relief.</p>
+
+<p>A soft knock came at the door and he heard the nurse's voice murmuring
+in low tones; then the curtain was partially raised and he recognized
+the figures of Sir Penniston Crisp and his young assistant.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, my dear Mortmain! When you left me yesterday morning I hardly
+expected to see you so soon again. And how do you find yourself?" was
+the baronet's cheery salutation.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard smiled faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"Rather a nasty wound," continued the surgeon. "Fickles, hand me those
+bandage scissors. Well, we must take a look at it." And he seated
+himself comfortably by the bedside.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>Miss Fickles, who had elevated Sir Richard to a sitting posture, now
+handed Sir Penniston the scissors, and the great physician leisurely cut
+the bandage from the arm. Mortmain winced with pain and closed his eyes.
+For an instant the outer air soothed the burning palm and forearm, then
+the blood crept into the veins and the pain became veritable agony.</p>
+
+<p>"Hm!" remarked Sir Penniston. "I must open this up. It needs attending
+to."</p>
+
+<p>He might well say so, for the edges of the wound showed tinges of
+yellow, and the hand itself was torn pitifully.</p>
+
+<p>"Scalscope, pass those instruments to Miss Fickles, and open that bottle
+of somni-chloride. I shall have to give you a whiff of an&aelig;sthetic,
+Mortmain. These little exploring expeditions are apt to be painful,
+however gentle we try to be. Just enough to make you a mere
+spectator&mdash;you will not lose consciousness. Wonderful, isn't it? I'm
+afraid I shall have to pick out some slivers of bone and trim off the
+edges a little. It will only take a moment or two. Then a nice bandage
+and you will be quite at ease."</p>
+
+<p>While Jermyn was emptying Sir Penniston's bag of its heterogeneous
+contents, Miss Fickles boiled the surgeon's implements in a tray of
+water over a tiny electric stove, and then arranged them in order upon a
+soft bed of padded cotton. Scalscope pulled a table to the bedside, and
+laid out with military precision rolls of linen, absorbents, antiseptic
+gauze, scissors, tape, thread, needles, and finally the little bottle of
+somni-chloride. The nurse lowered Sir Richard back upon the pillow and
+quickly twisted a fresh towel into a cone.</p>
+
+<p>"How science leaps onward," continued Sir Pennis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>ton, meditatively
+taking the cone in his left hand. "Anodyne, ether, chloroform, nitrous
+oxide, ethyl-chloride, and at last the greatest of all boons,
+somni-chloride! And all within my lifetime&mdash;that is really the most
+extraordinary part of it. Ah, what are the miracles of art to the
+miracles of science? Think of being able at last, as you heard me
+announce, to feel sure of never permanently losing a limb!"</p>
+
+<p>He allowed a single drop from the bottle to fall into the cone. Even as
+it descended it resolved itself into a lilac-colored volatile filling
+the cone like a horn of plenty. Sir Penniston held it with a smile just
+over Mortmain's head and suffered it to escape gently downward. At the
+first faint odor the baronet felt a perfect calm steal over his tired
+brain, at the second he seemed translated from his body and hovering
+above it, retaining the while an almost supernatural acuteness of eye
+and ear. Of bodily pain he felt nothing. Then Crisp inverted the cone
+and poured out the lilac smoke in a faint iridescent cloud, which eddied
+round the baronet's head and filled his nostrils with the sweet
+fragrance of an old-fashioned garden. Its perfume almost smothered him,
+and for a moment his eyes were blurred as if he had inhaled a breath of
+strong ammonia. Then his sight cleared and he no longer smelled the
+flowers. The surgeon laid down the cone and took up a small, thin knife.</p>
+
+<p>"Fickles, hold the wrist; you, Scalscope, the fingers. Thank you, that
+will do nicely."</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain watched with fascinated interest as Sir Penniston applied the
+point to his palm. Then the surgeon suddenly raised his head and looked
+pityingly at Sir Richard. At the same moment the effect of the
+somni-chloride began to wear off and the baronet felt a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> throbbing in
+his hand. Jermyn also cast a glance of compassion at the patient, while
+Miss Fickles turned away her head as if unable to bear the sight of his
+suffering.</p>
+
+<p>"My poor Mortmain," said the surgeon. "I fear you can never use this
+hand again."</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain caught his breath and choked.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" he gasped, and the effort sent a sharp pain through
+his lungs. "Not use my hand again?" His words sounded like the roar of a
+waterfall.</p>
+
+<p>"I fear you cannot. It is an ugly-looking wound. I am sorry to say you
+will have to lose your hand. We shall be lucky if we can save the arm."</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain felt an extraordinary pity for himself. He sobbed aloud. He had
+been vaguely aware that certain unfortunate persons in lowly
+circumstances occasionally lost their limbs. He was accustomed to
+contribute handsomely toward the homes for cripples and the blind, but
+he had never associated such an affliction with himself. He could not
+appreciate the proximity of it. There must be a mistake&mdash;or an
+alternative.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, no!" he exclaimed heavily. "Surely, you can restore my hand by
+treatment. I do not care how painful or tedious it may be. Why, I <i>must</i>
+have my hand. I have it now. Leave it as it is. I shall recover in
+time."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Penniston smiled cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry," he repeated, and Mortmain fancied that he detected a gleam
+of exultation in his eye. "Nothing can save it. Gangrene has already set
+in. The verdigris of the vase has poisoned the flesh. Do you think I
+would trifle with you? That is not my business. Be a man. It is hard;
+true enough. But it might be much worse."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>"But my music!" cried Mortmain in agony. "I shall be a miserable
+cripple! A fellow with an empty sleeve or a stuffed hand in a glove!
+Horrible!" He groaned.</p>
+
+<p>"You have still another," remarked the surgeon calmly. "Bind up this
+arm," he ordered, turning sharply to Jermyn. "Mortmain, I shall have to
+amputate your hand at the wrist within twelve hours. Do you desire a
+consultation? I assure you any physician would unhesitatingly give the
+same opinion. Still, if you desire&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The room swam about the baronet, and for an instant the two surgeons
+seemed like two ogres hovering aloft with bloodthirsty faces glowering
+down at his helpless body.</p>
+
+<p>Scalscope finished the bandage and tied the ends. Then he looked across
+at Crisp and remarked:</p>
+
+<p>"How fortunate, Sir Penniston, that your experiments have been concluded
+in time to save Sir Richard. He will be the very first to benefit by
+your great discovery!"</p>
+
+<p>Crisp smiled responsively.</p>
+
+<p>"What is that?" cried Mortmain. "Save me? What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Merely this, Mortmain. That if you are willing I may still give you a
+hand in place of this ruined one. It is possible, as I announced
+yesterday, to graft another in its place."</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain stared stupidly at Sir Penniston. A great weight seemed
+stifling him.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you really <i>mean</i> it?" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely," returned the surgeon. "It will be difficult, but not
+particularly dangerous."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>"Another's hand!" groaned the baronet.</p>
+
+<p>"And why not?" eagerly continued the surgeon. "Surely some one will be
+found who can be induced for a proper consideration to assist in an
+operation that will restore to usefulness so distinguished a member of
+society."</p>
+
+<p>"But is it <i>right</i>?" gasped Mortmain. "Is it lawful to maim a
+fellow-creature merely to serve oneself?" The idea disgusted him.</p>
+
+<p>"As you please," remarked Crisp dryly. "If you are to avail yourself of
+this opportunity, which has never been offered to another, you must say
+so at once. If you are indifferent to the loss of your hand or distrust
+my skill, there is nothing left but to amputate and be done with it."</p>
+
+<p>"It cannot be right!" moaned Mortmain. "I know it is a wicked thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Right?" sneered Crisp. "Why, I almost believe that it would be a sin if
+I let this opportunity go by."</p>
+
+<p>"What is that?" cried Miss Fickles sharply.</p>
+
+<p>There was a sharp knock at the door and Ashley Flynt entered, with a
+strange look on his face. Like a flash it occurred to Mortmain that the
+solicitor had called to see him about the bankruptcy. He looked again,
+and a terrible thought possessed him that it was for something else that
+the lawyer had come. Was it about the murder? Was he already suspected?
+Apprehension dwarfed the horror of Sir Penniston's suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Flynt," said the surgeon, "I am glad you have come. You can advise
+our friend here. I have offered to give him a new hand in place of the
+one which he must lose. He's afraid that it is unlawful. Come, give us
+an opinion!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>Flynt sank silently into an armchair and rested his finger tips lightly
+together.</p>
+
+<p>"Flynt," cried Mortmain, "what a terrible thing it is to deprive a
+fellow-creature of a limb. Is it legal? Is it not criminal?"</p>
+
+<p>Flynt gazed fixedly at Sir Richard for a moment without replying.</p>
+
+<p>"Situations sometimes arise," he remarked in a toneless voice, "where
+the results desired, even if they do not justify the means employed, at
+least render legal opinions superfluous."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not understand you," groaned Mortmain. "Do you mean that what Sir
+Penniston proposes is a crime?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that in a transaction of such moment the purely legal aspect of
+the case may be of slight importance."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly!" exclaimed Sir Penniston, whose face had assumed an expression
+of uneasiness. "To be sure! How plain he puts things, Mortmain. The law
+does not concern us when the integrity of the human body is involved."</p>
+
+<p>"But if I require and insist upon your advice?" continued Mortmain. "You
+know that you are my solicitor."</p>
+
+<p>"In a matter of this kind I should refuse to give an opinion in a
+specific case touching the interest of a client," returned Flynt.</p>
+
+<p>"I must know the law!" cried the baronet.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," replied Flynt. "I have examined the statutes and find that
+the maiming of another (save where such maiming is necessary to preserve
+his life or health), even with his consent, is a felony. That is the
+law, if you must have it."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>"Well, well!" exclaimed Crisp. "There are so many laws that one can't
+help violating some of them every day. What an absurd statute! It only
+shows how ignorant our legislators used to be! I am sure there were no
+scientific men in Parliament. It is nonsensical."</p>
+
+<p>Flynt gave a short laugh and arose.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Sir Richard," he remarked dryly, "this is entirely a matter for
+your own conscience and that of your physician. I trust that you will
+soon recover. I have an important engagement. I must beg you to excuse
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Gad, sir," cried Crisp, making a wry face toward the door as it closed
+behind the solicitor, "what a fellow that is! You might as well try to
+wring juice out of a paving stone. I feel quite irritated by him."</p>
+
+<p>"If I consent," said Mortmain, "do you think you can find a proper
+person to&mdash;to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Mortmain," responded Sir Penniston eagerly, "leave that to us.
+You may be sure that we shall accept no hand that is not perfect in
+every way and adapted to your particular needs. You need give yourself
+not the slightest uneasiness upon that score, I assure you. Of course,
+you will have to pay for it, but I am convinced that in an affair of
+this kind a satisfactory adjustment can easily be made&mdash;say, two hundred
+pounds down and an annuity of fifty pounds. How does that strike you?
+Why, it would be a godsend to many a poor fellow&mdash;say a clerk. He earns
+a beggarly five pounds a month. You give him two hundred pounds and as
+much a year for doing nothing as he was earning working ten hours a
+day."</p>
+
+<p>The pains in Mortmain's hand had begun again with renewed intensity and
+his whole arm throbbed in re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>sponse. He felt excited and feverish, and
+his thoughts no longer came with the same clearness and consecutiveness
+as before. It was evident to him that Crisp's diagnosis was correct. But
+shocking as was the realization that he, who had been in the prime of
+health but a few hours before, must now undergo a major operation, it
+was as nothing compared with the moral difficulty in which he found
+himself. All his inherited tendencies drew him back from a violation of
+the law, particularly a violation which included the maiming of a
+fellow-being; and so, for that matter, did all his acquired tastes and
+characteristics. On the other hand, his confidence in Crisp's skill and
+knowledge was such that he never for an instant doubted his ability
+successfully to achieve that which he had proposed.</p>
+
+<p>"But the law! The law!" cried Mortmain in a last and almost pathetic
+effort to oppose that which he now in reality desired. Crisp laughed
+almost sneeringly.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the law? The law is for the general good, not the individual.
+Are we to follow it blindly when to do so would be suicidal? Bah! The
+law never dares transgress the sacred circle of a physician's
+discretion."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose that is quite true!" exclaimed Sir Richard faintly. "I leave
+it to you. Do as you think best. I will follow your instructions. But I
+am suffering. My hand tortures me horribly. Let us have it over with as
+soon as possible. How soon can you make your arrangements?"</p>
+
+<p>"By this afternoon, Sir Richard."</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain sank back. In his eagerness he had half raised himself from the
+pillow, and now a sensation of nausea accompanied by dizziness took
+possession of him. He saw things dimly and in distorted forms. There
+was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> a strange roaring in his head as of a multitude of waters and he
+perceived that Crisp and Jermyn were talking eagerly together. He caught
+disconnected words muttered hurriedly in low tones. They moved slowly
+toward the door and he distinctly heard Crisp say as they passed out:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Flaggs is the very man!"</p>
+
+<p>The words filled him with a nameless terror.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop!" he cried, "stop! I will have nothing to do with that man&mdash;do you
+hear? Stop! Comeback!" But the door closed, and Mortmain, helpless and
+trembling, again fell back and shut his eyes.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="newchapter"><a name="MORTMAIN_IV" id="MORTMAIN_IV"></a>IV</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was cold in the train&mdash;icy cold, and in spite of his fur coat Sir
+Richard found himself shivering. Only his arm hanging in a splint burned
+with the fires of hell, as if imps with red-hot pincers were slowly
+tearing apart the nerves. Sir Penniston, sitting opposite, smiled
+encouragingly at him.</p>
+
+<p>There were several people in the carriage. The lamps had been lighted
+and in the corner, beside a large black case, sat Jermyn. Next to him
+came Joyce, looking exceedingly respectable and very solemn. But the
+other three he did not remember to have seen before&mdash;that tall,
+white-whiskered man in the otter collar: he probably had been presented
+and Sir Richard had forgotten. Then there was a big, broad-shouldered
+fellow in a soft cap, and next to him a slender, white-faced youth whose
+chin was buried in the depths of his coat collar, and whose hands were
+thrust deep into his pockets. The big man looked out the window
+occasionally and inquired the time, but the youth beside him kept his
+eyes fast shut and hardly moved. Had he not been sitting bolt upright
+Sir Richard fancied that the latter might have been taken for a corpse.</p>
+
+<p>"Woxton next stop, gentlemen!" announced the guard, opening the door for
+an instant as the train paused at a way station. A cold blast of air
+followed and Mortmain's teeth chattered. It was quite dark in the
+com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>partment and he felt very weak and miserable. He could not remember
+getting aboard the train, but the purport of it all was unmistakable.
+The agonies of the morning rushed back across his memory, and his hand
+throbbed and twisted within the splint. He felt sick and faint and the
+atmosphere of the carriage seemed suffocating.</p>
+
+<p>"How much farther is it?" inquired the man in the otter collar. "We've
+been traveling for hours!"</p>
+
+<p>"Only eight miles," answered Crisp cheerfully. "It certainly has seemed
+an unearthly distance."</p>
+
+<p>There was a long silence punctuated only by the puffing of the engine
+and the shriek of the whistle. Suddenly the pale young man whimpered.
+The sound sent a chill to the marrow of Sir Richard's spine.</p>
+
+<p>"If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee&mdash;"
+whispered the youth. Then he fell to sobbing in the depths of his
+collar, but without opening his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, my man! None of that!" cried Crisp angrily. "You're a lucky
+fellow! Why, your fortune is as good as made."</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>"If thy hand offend thee&mdash;" he repeated to himself. "If thy hand
+offend&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Then he became conscious of still another presence somewhere&mdash;a presence
+that watched him furtively, but hungrily, with eager, greedy eyes. He
+stared along the seats and into the crannies. Could it have been a face
+at the window? No, the black night rushed by steadily and blankly. And
+yet he could not convince himself that another face had not been there a
+moment before.</p>
+
+<p>The train slowed up with a screeching of the brakes and came to a stop.
+The door was flung open; his com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>panions hurriedly arose, and the
+broad-shouldered young man placed his arm protectingly about the baronet
+and assisted him to the platform. A fine snow was sifting down silently
+over the lamplit road and upon two large depot wagons standing beside
+the station. Again Mortmain was conscious of a presence. He glanced
+quickly across the platform and thought he saw a shadow spring from a
+rear carriage and leap into the darkness of the bushes.</p>
+
+<p>"What was that?" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>But the others paid no attention, being busily engaged in deporting
+their cases and portmanteaus. The train started on again. Only the
+station agent was left, his lantern making an opaque circle in the
+intense darkness of the snow-filled night.</p>
+
+<p>The horses champed impatiently, and as quickly as was possible the party
+divided and climbed into the wagons, Crisp, the nurse, and Mortmain
+entering the last. The doors were slammed to and they started. Still
+Mortmain felt convinced that they were not alone. Looking back just as
+they were leaving the dim lights of the station, he could have sworn
+that he saw the figure of a man running steadily along behind, crouching
+low against the road. To the south a distant glow bespoke the presence
+of a village, but the wagons swung sharply to the north and plunged into
+a wood.</p>
+
+<p>A drowsiness had come over the baronet and he pressed close to the
+nurse, terrified and shaken by the dread of some approaching peril. This
+hired man seemed nearer to him than any other living soul. He cried
+softly, fearing to be observed, and the tears coursed down his hot
+cheeks and lost themselves in his furs. Now and then he would listen
+intently for the sound of some one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> running, but he could hear nothing
+save the crunch of the wheels and the jingle of the harness. Yet he knew
+that just behind them, clinging to their wheel, was pressing that
+mysterious figure that had leaped into the darkness beside the station.</p>
+
+<p>After what seemed an hour, a bend in the road disclosed a single light
+not far ahead and in a few moments the wagons stopped before a high
+wall. The party got out and Crisp opened the gate. Mortmain stared
+fixedly down the road, waiting for the unbidden guest to creep swiftly
+into view.</p>
+
+<p>"Here we are!" cried Sir Penniston. "Wait a moment until I notify the
+farmer."</p>
+
+<p>As the surgeon hastened up the paved walk to the cottage, the wagons
+turned and started back at a brisk trot, like a home-going funeral
+procession. All the windows were dark and Mortmain clung sobbing to the
+nurse's arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Hit's all right, sir," whispered the latter sympathetically. "Hit's all
+right!"</p>
+
+<p>Slowly the party made their way to the porch. A light appeared in the
+lower windows, then the door was opened. The nurse, half carrying the
+baronet, helped him into the hall and seated him upon a wooden chair. As
+the door closed Mortmain saw a shadow at the gate.</p>
+
+<p>"Look! Look!" he cried. The warm air swallowed him up; he felt a rush of
+blood to his neck and face; the figures about him swayed and swam in the
+dim light; there was a stabbing pain in his hand and he knew no more.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="newchapter"><a name="MORTMAIN_V" id="MORTMAIN_V"></a>V</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Mortmain was able to reappear in society he was astonished to find
+that the murder of Lord Russell was no longer a matter of interest or of
+discussion. The temporarily shocked and horrified community had
+apparently within a short time placidly accepted it, and apart from
+occasional references in the newspapers, it was rapidly becoming a mere
+matter of history, taking its proper chronological place in the long
+list of London's unsolved mysteries. It had been given out at the time
+that the horrible death of his old friend had so prostrated the baronet
+that he had been threatened with total collapse, and had only been
+restored to health by remaining in bed under the constant care of a
+certain distinguished physician. At times Mortmain was almost inclined
+to believe this himself, for the ghastly night at the lonely farmhouse,
+his ensuing illness and slow recovery, seemed, in the full swing of the
+London season and contrasted with the brilliant colors of its
+festivities, less actuality than a dreadful nightmare which continually
+obtruded itself upon his recollection. He had resumed his place in
+fashionable life with his old assurance, picking up his cards where he
+had left them lying face downward upon the table. Within a week he was
+again "among those present" at every gathering of note, and he had
+dropped hints of his intention to give a new and unique musical
+entertainment which was to surpass any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>thing of the kind theretofore
+attempted. He had also resumed his attentions to Lady Bella Forsythe
+with a definite purpose&mdash;that of rendering himself financially
+impregnable.</p>
+
+<p>But Sir Richard was not the same. His glass showed him to be paler than
+of yore, his eyes more deeply sunken, his hair touched at the edges with
+a ghost of white, the lines of his mouth more firmly marked. His friends
+jokingly told him that he was growing old. He had paid a heavy price for
+what he had bought, yet it was not loss of vitality, not physical shock
+alone that had thus aged him, but a ghastly, damning fact that never
+left him for an instant, waking or sleeping: <i>the fact that the man had
+died</i>. They had not told him at first&mdash;it might have affected his cure.
+The result upon his spiritual being when he learned of it had been no
+less disastrous. <i>The man had died.</i> There was no longer any pensioner
+to claim his annuity; no creditor even to demand the price of his awful
+bargain; no witness to testify to its hideous terms&mdash;he had fled the
+jurisdiction of all earthly courts. Sir Richard was free. But the
+thought of that life forfeited to his own egotism was a millstone about
+his neck, bowing him forever to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>He intentionally talked frankly of Lord Russell. The old man had been
+highly respected and, indeed, moderately prominent in philanthropic
+circles. Mortmain had made a point of going personally to see the
+bas-relief erected to his memory. He learned that the next of kin was a
+Devon man who never came up to town, and that the executors had taken
+possession almost immediately and disposed of the house to an American
+millionaire, who was even now remodeling the historic mansion, inserting
+Grecian columns and putting on a Ch&acirc;teau de<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> Nevers roof. Of course he
+inspected this with friends, was properly disgusted, and seized the
+opportunity to gratify his curiously morbid hunger for the details of
+the murder. He learned that, though few of the facts were known to the
+public, opinion had crystallized into a settled acceptance that the
+murderer had made good his escape and that the identity of the murderer
+was known. In fact, the silence of Scotland Yard was rendered nugatory
+by the reward of &pound;1,000 offered by the County Council for the
+apprehension of Saunders Leach, the recently discharged secretary of the
+philanthropist. Nothing had been heard of him since Lord Russell's
+butler had admitted him to the house, an hour or two before the murder,
+upon his representation that he had come to look over some papers at the
+request of his erstwhile master. The butler, a most respectable person,
+had introduced him into the library, where Lord Russell was, and
+departed. He had recalled afterwards&mdash;it had come out at the hearing at
+the Central Criminal Court&mdash;that he had heard the sound of voices raised
+at a high pitch, but, as his master was at times somewhat querulous,
+this had not particularly attracted his attention. An hour later, when
+he had brought the evening papers, he had discovered the aged man lying
+face downward upon his desk, and a window, bearing the bloody traces of
+the assassin, open to the night. And Leach had vanished&mdash;as if he had
+never lived.</p>
+
+<p>The thing most puzzling to Sir Richard, as to everybody else, was the
+failure of any apparent motive for so ghastly a deed. Leach, according
+to old Floyd the butler, had been a very decent sort of fellow, rather
+sickly Floyd took him to be, without any particular faults or virtues.
+It seemed to outrage reason to suppose that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> an an&aelig;mic little clerk
+could have murdered a helpless old man simply out of revenge for having
+lost his place. And then nothing had been stolen&mdash;that is, nobody but
+Sir Richard knew that anything had been stolen. Yet the public and the
+London County Council pronounced unhesitatingly as established fact that
+Saunders Leach was the assassin, and that he should be hunted down to
+the very ends of the world and, if need be, followed into the next. Only
+Scotland Yard remained silent after annexing the contents of the room,
+the windows, the carpet, and even portions of the faded paper from the
+very walls themselves. Then Parliament went into a convulsion over a
+proposed excise alteration and London forgot the murder of Lord Russell
+in its feverish interest in the expected legislative abortion. There was
+an appeal to the country; a premier retired to Italy; some few thousands
+were added to the credit column of the national ledger at the expense of
+a ministry, and once more the advent of royalty at St. James's dazzled
+the cockney eye and filled the cockney mouth to the stultification of
+the cockney brain. Lord Russell was forgotten&mdash;as completely as Saunders
+Leach&mdash;as totally as an isle sunk beneath the waters of oblivion.</p>
+
+<p>The first time Sir Richard had essayed to write he had been deliciously
+horrified at the ease with which his pencil had followed the pressure of
+his new fingers. His recent clothes added an extra inch to his sleeves,
+and his broad cuffs fully concealed the white seam that ran around his
+wrist. The hand itself served his purposes well enough, but unmistakably
+it was not his own. He never laid the two together&mdash;never let his eyes
+fall upon the vicarious fingers if he could avoid it, for inevitably a
+sickening sensation of repulsion followed. His own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> fingers were long
+and tapering, the nails fine with pronounced "crowns," the back of the
+hand slender and smooth; the new one was broader and hairy, the fingers
+shorter and square at the ends, the nails thick and dull with no
+"crowns," and the veins blue and prominent. There were too many pores!</p>
+
+<p>He loathed the thing, tell himself as often as he would that it was
+nothing but a mechanical device to supplement Nature. Physically he felt
+as if he were wearing a glove that was too small for him, into which he
+had been forced to stuff his hand. This seemed to produce a tight,
+swollen sensation which was the only indication of his abnormal
+condition. He ate, drove, used his keys, articulated his fingers, and
+even wrote with the same muscular freedom as before. His chirography
+actually and undeniably exhibited the same general characteristics, only
+intensified and with less certainty of stroke and pen-pressure. The
+letters which had previously been merely somewhat original in structure
+as suited a man of fashion, now became humpbacked and deformed. It was
+as though the spiritual qualities of Sir Richard's penmanship had shrunk
+away, leaving only the grotesque residue of a dwarfed and evil nature.</p>
+
+<p>But apart from the question of chirography one other manifestation
+constantly reminded Mortmain of his crime. This was an itching in the
+grafted hand whenever its possessor became angry or excited. Even hard
+physical exercise produced the same phenomenon. It seemed as if Nature,
+having provided for the circulation of a certain amount of blood, found
+on reaching this particular extremity that the supply exceeded the power
+of reception. If angered, he found himself indulging in ungovernable
+fits of passion, with his eyes suffused and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> his head buzzing. At times
+he experienced an almost irresistible impulse to throttle somebody. On
+the slightest provocation the fingers of his right hand would curve and
+clutch, and a fierce longing seize him to compass the extinction of life
+in some animate being&mdash;to feel the slackening of the muscles in some
+victim&mdash;an emotion elemental, barbarous, cruel, but keen, masterful and
+pervading. He had an exhilarating sensation of strength and vitality new
+to him. Moreover, his attitude toward his fellow-men had imperceptibly
+altered. Before his operation he had hated all evil doers and been
+strongly loyal to government and law; now he sympathized with the
+lawbreakers. In defying society and deliberately violating its statutes,
+he had allied himself with its enemies.</p>
+
+<p>This he realized and accepted. At any moment he might be called upon to
+face a criminal prosecution for the felony of mutilation; and there was
+still the peculiar and inexplicable silence of Flaggs in regard to the
+papers which he had taken away with him on the morning after the murder.
+No word had ever passed between them on the subject, and yet the notes
+were outstanding and in the hands of a more dangerous holder than even
+Lord Russell himself. By merely handing them to the executors, Flaggs
+could not only throw Sir Richard into bankruptcy, but could place him in
+the awkward position of having suppressed the notes at the time of Lord
+Russell's death. That, too, would lead to a still further and more
+delicate complication. He would naturally be asked how he had secured
+possession of the notes. It would be clear that they were in Lord
+Russell's hands at the time of the murder. Flaggs would explain that
+<i>he</i> had procured them from Sir Richard. So far as <i>he</i> was concerned,
+he had been safely "jugged" at the time of the murder.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> He could call a
+score of sergeants, matrons, and bobbies to prove that, and establish it
+by the police records themselves. Where, then, people would want to
+know, had Sir Richard obtained them? It would be a hard question to
+answer in such a way that the answer would carry any sort of conviction
+with it.</p>
+
+<p>No one, of course, would believe that he had found them, as in fact was
+the case. Any such explanation would excite instant suspicion. If he
+should say that he had paid them and had received the notes from Lord
+Russell's lawyers, inquiry would at once demonstrate that the lawyers
+had never had possession of the notes, or received any money from Sir
+Richard. If he said that he had taken the money to Lord Russell and
+received the notes <i>from him</i>, his own evidence would place him upon the
+scene of the murder at approximately the moment of it. Further, no draft
+in payment of the notes would be found among Lord Russell's papers, and
+the suspicion would immediately arise that he had proffered a forged
+draft to secure possession of the notes, and then murdered the old man
+to get it back.</p>
+
+<p>It was indeed a predicament of the worst sort. In Sir Richard the
+horrible unfairness of it bred a hatred for a society in which such
+things were possible. He looked at any moment to find himself made the
+defendant in a criminal prosecution, just or unjust&mdash;the unjust the more
+difficult of the two to escape. He needed money&mdash;money to fight with,
+money to live on, money to keep up his hollow pretense of
+respectability. And as his attitude toward society gradually changed,
+the dead-alive thing at his wrist with the white seam throbbed and
+itched until Mortmain longed fiercely to tear it off. At night he would
+dream&mdash;and this dream repeated itself over and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> over again&mdash;that he was
+fastened to some miserable convict, shackled by the wrist in such a way
+that somehow they two had grown together, and as he struggled in his
+sleep his fellow would turn into the grinning, jeering image of
+Flaggs&mdash;Flaggs fastened to him by a bond of burning, itching
+flesh&mdash;Flaggs joined to him like a Siamese twin, flesh of his flesh,
+blood of his blood&mdash;until by some unnatural evolution <i>he</i> became Flaggs
+and could see his own wretched shape writhing at the other end of their
+mutual arm. Then shaking, chilled, and covered with perspiration he
+would awake and look for Flaggs beside him, and hold his hand to the
+blue night-light only to find the seam about his wrist and the
+dead-white hand throbbing until he thought he should go mad.</p>
+
+<p>By day he was haunted by the vision of Flaggs watching his house and
+following him along the streets. He could not get the fellow out of his
+mind. This terror of the drunken clerk became a positive obsession. As
+he walked the streets or drove in his brougham through the park he was
+constantly planning out what he should say when they should finally come
+together&mdash;when Flaggs should call for him, summon him as his own. Could
+he defy him? Could he palliate him? The hand twitched at the thought of
+it. He fancied that Flaggs followed him everywhere in various disguises,
+running swiftly behind, dodging into doorways and up side streets when
+he turned around. And this habit of turning around and glancing
+furtively up and down grew on Sir Richard, and with it grew the itching
+in his hand, until he suspected that people shook their heads and said
+that his illness had undermined his health more than they had supposed.</p>
+
+<p>It was no bodily illness that thus affected Sir Rich<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>ard, but spiritual
+degeneration. He went from dinner party to dinner party and from
+musicale to musicale, paying court to Lady Bella Forsythe as if no
+grotesque face were peering from behind the arras of his brain. Yet in
+reality he was preparing to meet Flaggs in the final struggle for
+supremacy. Flaggs, like death and the tax man, was coming&mdash;<i>when</i>? He
+could not tell, but inevitably. And he must be ready, armed
+<i>cap-a-pie</i> to meet him on every ground. He had at last resolved to marry
+Lady Bella. It was an essential in his campaign to defeat Flaggs. There
+must be plenty of money&mdash;money, that was what he needed, what he wanted.
+It was partly for Lady Bella that he had planned his musical
+entertainment, for, in addition to its practical desirability, if he
+purposed to retain his position in the social world, it would afford an
+excellent opportunity for presenting himself to her as a person worthy
+of her own high station and acquaintance. His own music&mdash;! Alas! the
+brain was willing, but the fingers were powerless. Where before he had
+produced the most delicate of harmonies there now resulted nothing but
+harsh discords. The hand would not stretch an octave!</p>
+
+<p>The Milbank Street house blazed into the early evening with a thousand
+lights. All day long wagons of roses and asters had stood before the
+doors, and aproned men had staggered into the hall with pots of flowers
+and stands of palms. Confectioners' wagons, loads of camp chairs, and
+now a large awning were the indubitable evidences of what was afoot.
+Night came on. The white cloth on the carpet across the sidewalk was
+trampled to a dirty gray. The orchestra began to arrive, and, shedding
+their coats in the servants' entrance, toiled up the back stairs and
+tentatively made their way through the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> flower-banked halls to the
+conservatory. Sir Richard sitting in his den and awaiting the arrival of
+his first guests could hear the musicians tuning their basses and
+testing the wood winds. But there was no music in Sir Richard's soul.
+All day long he had been haunted by the ghost of Flaggs scuttling behind
+him, and his hand had seemed swollen and discolored. Well, if he could
+but get through the night, could succeed in his suit with Lady Bella, he
+would go away and rest. Perhaps he would leave London forever&mdash;Lady
+Bella was very fond of Rome. The sounds of the instruments grew more
+confused and louder, the violins mingling with the others. Occasionally
+the trombones would boom out and the kettles rumble ominously. Outside
+splashes of rain began to fall against the windows, and the wind,
+catching in the hollow column of the awning, swept into the halls and
+through the open door into the den. Mortmain looked at his watch and
+found it was ten o'clock. People would be arriving soon. His hand
+twitched and he lighted a cigarette. There was a great deal of traffic
+in the front hall&mdash;too much. He closed the door and poured out a
+thimbleful of brandy. Well, a day or two and he would be rid of Flaggs
+forever! Then he heard a low knock. He tried to cheat himself into the
+belief that it was Joyce.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in," he cried, but his voice was husky.</p>
+
+<p>Flaggs stood before him.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been expecting you," said Mortmain. It did not seem strange that
+he should make this declaration.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" queried Flaggs.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want?" demanded the baronet.</p>
+
+<p>"Ten thousand pounds," answered the clerk. "To-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain broke into a harsh laugh.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>"Ha! my good fellow! What do you think I am&mdash;a Cr&#339;sus? Come, come, I'll
+give you fifty&mdash;and I get the notes, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ten thousand pounds," repeated Flaggs stubbornly, "by to-morrow noon,
+or I hand you over to the police."</p>
+
+<p>The blood jumped into Sir Richard's face and his dexter hand throbbed
+and tingled.</p>
+
+<p>"You miserable rascal!" he cried. "You wretched blackmailer! How dare
+you come into my house? Do you know that I could <i>kill</i> you? And no one
+would ever be the wiser! Take a few pounds and be off with you or I'll
+summon the police myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Not so fast, not so fast, Sir Richard," muttered Flaggs. "I don't think
+you'll call the police."</p>
+
+<p>The look on the white scowling face before him told Sir Richard that the
+fellow meant to do his business. A haunting fear seized hold upon him
+like that which he had experienced in the depot wagon&mdash;a feeling that
+behind this grotesque, dwarfed figure of a man lurked the hand of Fate.</p>
+
+<p>"That's right. Be reasonable," said Flaggs soothingly. "Some folks would
+think ten thousand pounds was cheap to escape the gallows," he added in
+lower tones.</p>
+
+<p>"Gallows!" cried Sir Richard, his anger rising. He knew the fellow's
+game now. He was being lied to. Flaggs was trying to frighten, to bully
+him. "The gallows, my friend, ceased to be the punishment for felony in
+1826&mdash;even for blackmail!"</p>
+
+<p>"But not for murder," retorted Flaggs with a ghastly smile. "Not for
+murder!"</p>
+
+<p>"Enough of this!" exclaimed Sir Richard, but his knees were trembling.
+"Here are a hundred pounds. Go!" He put his hand to his breast pocket.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>Flaggs laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Look!" he cried, pulling from the lining of his hat a printed slip
+which he unfolded and handed to the baronet.</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain took it in dread and held it to the light.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"<i>Murder in the first degree defined.</i></p>
+
+<p>"<i>The taking of the life of a human being by another
+with malice prepense or in the commission of a
+felony.</i>"</p></div>
+
+<p>The last six words were underlined in red ink.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" he asked, but the word stuck in his throat.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" returned the other. "It's plain enough, isn't it? What more do
+you want?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is not plain, you blackguard."</p>
+
+<p>"Maiming is a felony. You know that. Amputation is maiming. Flynt told
+you so. The fellow that sold you that hand of yours died of it, didn't
+he?"</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain uttered an exclamation of horror. He looked down at the fearful
+thing and it seemed to him to be the color of death. "They can never
+prove it!" he cried faintly. "They can't prove it! They cannot!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, they can! I saw it done," remarked Flaggs. "I saw him buried in
+the garden. He is there yet&mdash;minus his hand."</p>
+
+<p>"You villain!" gasped Mortmain. The room reeled, and Flaggs danced
+before him, gibbering with glee. The light darkened and brightened again
+and seemed to swing in circles.</p>
+
+<p>"Pull yourself together, Sir Richard!" remarked Flaggs mockingly. "Pull
+yourself together! Isn't it worth ten thousand pounds or one hundred
+thousand pounds? But I'm reasonable. Only ten thousand pounds! Come,
+come! Let me have it!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>"<i>No!</i>" shouted Mortmain. "Not if I die for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you <i>will</i> die for it," said Flaggs.</p>
+
+<p>The sound of the fiddles came through the closed door of the study. The
+cries of the lackeys and the roll of carriages arriving and departing
+could be heard in the front.</p>
+
+<p>"You will die for it, as there is a God in heaven, if I choose!"</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain stood silent. He had a presentiment of what Flaggs was going to
+say.</p>
+
+<p>"A word from me," continued the clerk, "and you hang for the <i>murder of
+Lord Russell</i>. Everyone knows you hated him. Flynt, Joyce, and I heard
+you say you would kill him. You owed him seventy-five thousand pounds
+and it was two days overdue. He would have ruined you next day. The
+officer saw you outside his window within five minutes of the murder,
+and so did I. There was nothing taken but the notes&mdash;nothing. They were
+found in your possession the next morning. How did they get there? The
+case is complete. The notes convict you. I've got them. They are yours
+for ten thousand pounds&mdash;only ten thousand pounds."</p>
+
+<p>"You villain," shouted Mortmain, springing toward him.</p>
+
+<p>The door from the hall opened and Joyce entered letting in the warm
+breath of roses and the loud strains of a waltz.</p>
+
+<p>"Lady Bella has arrived, Sir Richard," he announced.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell her I am coming," said Mortmain, starting for the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait!" shrieked Flaggs, his face horribly distorted. "Wait!" Joyce had
+retired.</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain paused with clinched fists.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>"Isn't it worth ten thousand pounds to save a guilty man&mdash;a man who
+can't escape?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you fool!" cried Mortmain, suddenly regaining his self-control.
+"Such evidence is valueless. My word is worth <i>yours</i> ten times over,
+and I deny that you found the notes in my house. I say that <i>you</i> are
+the murderer. And I believe you are!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not so fast! Not so fast!" leered Flaggs. "You know I was 'in quod' at
+the time. Don't forget that! And there's one more bit of evidence that
+nails you. You can't escape. You're done. I've got you&mdash;<i>the murderer's
+thumb marks on the glass</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"The devil take you!" yelled Mortmain, the blood suffusing his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"The devil has <i>you</i> already!" retorted Flaggs. "He's part of you. You
+<i>are</i> the devil. Whose hand is that? Tell me that! <i>Whose hand is
+that?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain turned an agonized face toward his tormentor. His spirit was
+gone. He was ready to fall upon his knees, but he could not move. He
+raised his left hand pitifully as if to shield himself from the coming
+blow, and yet his parched lips uttered the soundless word:</p>
+
+<p>"Whose?"</p>
+
+<p>Flaggs gave a dry laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>It belonged to Saunders Leach!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>With a sickening of the heart the baronet realized for the first time
+the terrible alternative which confronted him.</p>
+
+<p>His selfish willingness to violate the law and mutilate a fellow human
+being merely to gratify his own vanity had plunged him into an abyss
+from which there seemed no escape. "Murder in the first degree defined:
+the taking of the life of a human being by another with malice<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> prepense
+<i>or in the commission of a felony</i>." By a cruel yet extraordinary chance
+he, the needless yet deliberate lawbreaker, had purchased the very hand
+which had slain his enemy&mdash;from the murderer himself, who was only too
+anxious to get rid of it. By an equally hideous but astonishing
+coincidence this devil's contract had proved in fact the death warrant
+of the murderer, and Mortmain had been his involuntary executioner.
+Saunders Leach had paid the penalty of his crime, but Mortmain carried
+dangling at the end of his dexter forearm the living evidence that he,
+and not Leach, was the assassin. The coil of the rope of fate, at one
+end of which hung the limp body of the common criminal, had fallen upon
+the neck of his aristocrat brother, and it needed but a word from Flaggs
+to send him spinning from the gallows. Should he seek to show that the
+finger prints upon the window of Lord Russell's library were not his
+own, and by this means to creep from beneath the meshes of the net of
+circumstantial evidence in which he was entangled, he would, in the same
+breath, be forced to confess that he was guilty of the murder of
+Saunders Leach&mdash;murder, as the result of the latter's mutilation&mdash;murder
+under the literal interpretation of the statute. Was ever rat so nicely
+trapped? The horror of the thing turned Mortmain into a madman. He
+sprang at the clerk in a delirium of rage, his right hand clutched
+Flaggs tightly by the throat, and its blunt fingers twisted into the
+flesh deeper and deeper. It was done so quickly that the clerk was
+unable to escape. His eyes started forward, his tongue protruded, and
+his mouth frothed as he made ineffectual attempts to break the baronet's
+hold.</p>
+
+<p>"You've got me, eh?" muttered Mortmain, gritting his teeth. "I think
+not, Mr. Flaggs!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>The door opened and Joyce entered in much agitation. The orchestra had
+burst into a triumphant march and the sounds of many footsteps echoed in
+the hall outside.</p>
+
+<p>"Everybody is arrivin', Sir Richard!" exclaimed the butler, "an' Lady
+Bella has gone into the music room. His Grace of Belvoir was just askin'
+for you. Here are two gentlemen who wish to see you important, sir." He
+held the door open and two men in Inverness coats entered and stood
+irresolutely near the door.</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain released his grasp upon the neck of Flaggs, who lurched toward
+the corner and fell motionless behind a table.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Richard Mortmain?" inquired the taller of the two, a man of massive
+build and with iron-gray mustache and hair.</p>
+
+<p>"The same," replied Mortmain, his fingers still twitching from the
+ferocity of his clutch upon the clerk.</p>
+
+<p>The two strangers bowed.</p>
+
+<p>"We have a card to you from Lieutenant Foraker&mdash;a friend of yours, I
+believe. Permit me," and the tall man stepped forward and extended a
+card to the baronet.</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain mechanically took it between the thumb and forefinger of his
+right hand. It felt like celluloid and a trifle slippery. But the
+stranger did not release his own hold upon it.</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, I have given you the wrong card," he exclaimed
+apologetically, and withdrawing the bit of board from Mortmain's fingers
+he opened a wallet and fumbled with the contents. As he did so he handed
+the first card to his companion, who stepped into the light of the lamp,
+and examined it carefully through a small microscope which he drew from
+his pocket.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a name="img3" id="img3"></a>
+<img src="images/image-3.jpg" width="500" height="383" alt="His blunt fingers twisted into the flesh deeper and
+deeper." title="" />
+</div>
+<p class="caption">&quot;His blunt fingers twisted into the flesh deeper and
+deeper.&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>"They are <i>the same</i>," remarked the stranger of the microscope to the
+iron-gray man.</p>
+
+<p>"What is all this?" cried Mortmain in an unnatural voice. His head swam.
+On the mantel the verdigris-covered dragon's face grinned mockingly at
+him&mdash;it was the face of Flaggs.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Richard," replied the iron-gray man gravely, "I am Inspector
+Murtha, of Scotland Yard."</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain started back and his right hand twitched again. Through the
+silence came the measures of "The Flower Song."</p>
+
+<p>"I regret to say," continued the other, "that it is my most unpleasant
+duty to arrest you for the murder of Lord Gordon Russell."</p>
+
+<p>At the same instant the veil of Sir Richard's mental temple was rent in
+twain; out of a blackness so intense that it seemed substantive he saw
+the two inspectors from Scotland Yard fleeing away and diminishing in
+size until they seemed but puppets gesturing at the edge of an infinity
+of white desert; then with equal velocity they were carried forward
+again, growing bigger and bigger until they loomed like giants in his
+immediate foreground swinging huge scimitars and waving their arms
+frantically; the strains of the violins changed to voices shouting so
+sharply that they pained his ears, and waves of light and cosmic
+darkness over which scintillated a dazzling aurora followed one another
+in startling succession, until suddenly his soul, shot out of a tunnel,
+as it were, landed abruptly in a warm meadow covered with daisies, which
+dissolved before his eyes into the familiar chamber on Milbank Street. A
+gray mist floated hissing up through the ceiling, the chairs rocked with
+a strange rotary swing, and the two inspectors smiled cheerfully at him
+through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> a broad and painful band of London sunshine. He swallowed
+rapidly, and a horrible faintness seized him which gave place to a queer
+sort of anger.</p>
+
+<p>"There's&mdash;some&mdash;mistake!" he stuttered. The chairs anchored themselves
+and the ceiling assumed its normal tint.</p>
+
+<p>"No mistake at all," replied Sir Penniston Crisp.</p>
+
+<p>The problem was too much for the baronet and he gave it up. The
+murderer's hand no longer twitched, but it loomed white and loathsome
+from the bed before him, as if dead already, somehow&mdash;part of
+a&mdash;yes&mdash;what were those things? Bandages?</p>
+
+<p>Crisp and Jermyn saw a look of agonized bewilderment pass over the
+baronet's face.</p>
+
+<p>"Did they bring me here from the Old Bailey?" he asked. "Am I out on
+bail?"</p>
+
+<p>Crisp laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"That's one way of putting it," he remarked. "Yes, you're out on bail,
+and in another second or two you will be entirely free."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad you're going to take that thing off again," said Mortmain.
+"How could you have done it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right," returned Crisp soothingly.</p>
+
+<p>Then Mortmain suddenly understood. But he waited shrewdly.</p>
+
+<p>"What day is this?" he asked in an innocent manner.</p>
+
+<p>"December 5th," replied Jermyn.</p>
+
+<p>"When did I have that fall; you know&mdash;the one that made it necessary for
+you to amputate?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your accident happened yesterday evening, but there is no necessity for
+amputation," returned Crisp. "Now, my dear fellow, just lie back, will
+you?&mdash;and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> don't ask questions. That somni-chloride is still lingering
+in your head. I shall have to be going in a minute."</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain obeyed the surgeon's instructions, but he was hard at work
+thinking the thing out logically. It was clear that there had been no
+amputation, no arrest, no inspectors from Scotland Yard. That scene with
+Flaggs, horribly distinct as it still was, had had no actuality. But
+where did fact end and illusion begin? Had the notes been taken? Had
+there been a murder? Was he a bankrupt? The different propositions
+entangled themselves helplessly with one another. At the end of a minute
+he asked deliberately:</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Fickles, did a man take some papers from my table this morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Sir Richard," replied the nurse.</p>
+
+<p>Mortmain's heart sank.</p>
+
+<p>"Er&mdash;was&mdash;did anything happen to Lord Russell?" he asked the surgeon
+faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But don't talk or think of it, Mortmain. I order you! Do you
+understand?"</p>
+
+<p>A ripple of perspiration broke out on his forehead and it seemed as if a
+film had rolled off his vision. Of course, he had taken the chloride
+just after Miss Fickles had gone downstairs for him, and then Crisp and
+Jermyn had come. He had felt so miserable! And now he felt so much
+better! He opened his eyes, the same Sir Richard that had inhaled the
+an&aelig;sthetic so obediently.</p>
+
+<p>"I am quite myself now, Sir Penniston," he asserted quietly. "I want to
+ask one more question. Flynt was not here, was he?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, of course not."</p>
+
+<p>"And we have not left the room? No railroad trip, eh?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said the baronet. "May I have a cup of coffee?"</p>
+
+<p>What reply this preposterous demand would have invited will never be
+known, for at that moment a knock came upon the door and Joyce asked if
+Sir Richard could see Mr. Flynt.</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>must</i> see him!" said Mortmain.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, very well!" laughed Crisp. "You're getting better rapidly."</p>
+
+<p>Flynt entered with a breezy manner which he allowed himself to assume
+only when something really desirable had definitely occurred.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, Sir Penniston! Good morning, Sir Richard!" he remarked
+without sitting down. "I really had to come in and tell you the good
+news. The executors have just read Lord Russell's will&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Flynt! Mr. Flynt!" interrupted Sir Penniston.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it's all right!" continued Flynt with a laugh. "Better than a
+tonic. You see, Fowler, the only next of kin, was just sailing for New
+Guinea, and it had to be done at once. I really did Lord Russell an
+injustice. May I speak before these gentlemen?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," whispered Mortmain, his eyes fastened feverishly upon the
+lawyer.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, to put it briefly, he has made you a great gift! Here, read it!"
+and he handed the baronet a typewritten sheet. Mortmain read it eagerly,
+although his eyes pained him somewhat:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"To my friend, Sir Richard Mortmain, I devise and
+bequeath the sum of five thousand pounds, and take it
+upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> myself to express the earnest hope that he will
+before long publish his views upon art in such a form
+that the public at large may have the opportunity to
+profit by that which hitherto has been the privilege
+only of the few. I desire, moreover, to express my
+high personal regard for him and my admiration for his
+whole-souled devotion to the arts, and I hereby
+instruct my executors to cancel and destroy all
+evidences of indebtedness owing to me by said Mortmain
+and to treat said indebtedness as null, void and of no
+effect, provided, nevertheless, that within six months
+of my demise said Mortmain shall assign to the
+directors of the Corporation of the British Museum all
+his collections of ceramics, bronzes, china,
+chronometers, scarabs, including the Howard
+Collection, his cabinets of gems and cameos, including
+the famous head of Alexander on an onyx of two strata
+and the <i>altissimo relievo</i> on cornelian&mdash;Jupiter
+&AElig;giochus&mdash;the four paintings by Watteau in his music
+room, and the paintings by Corot and Whistler from his
+library. As the said moneys borrowed from me from time
+to time by said Mortmain were, to my knowledge,
+principally made use of by him for the purpose of
+purchasing and enlarging said collections, which have
+increased in value to no inconsiderable extent by
+virtue of his care and discrimination since he
+acquired them, I am prepared to regard said loans to
+him in effect as gifts impressed with a trust in favor
+of our National Museum, provided, however, that said
+Mortmain is willing to accept the same and execute the
+terms thereof as heretofore set forth within six
+months; but nothing herein shall be taken to affect
+the right of said Mortmain to take up and pay off said
+indebtedness within said time, if he shall see fit to
+do so, in which case the provisions of this codicil
+shall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> be without any force or effect whatsoever, save
+that I instruct my executors to receive said moneys
+and hold the same in trust, however, for such
+scientific and artistic uses as said Mortmain shall
+direct, preference being given to the needs of the
+British Museum along the lines of antique works of art
+and Egyptology."</p></div>
+
+<p>As Sir Richard laid down the paper his eyes filled and he turned away
+his head.</p>
+
+<p>"A good old man!" said Flynt reverently.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed he was!" assented Crisp.</p>
+
+<p>"I must know one thing," whispered Mortmain after a few moments. "Did
+you send your clerk here this morning to get some papers?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, to be sure. I had almost forgotten&mdash;I sent Flaggs after an
+envelope which I fancied I dropped last evening," answered the lawyer.</p>
+
+<p>"Which <i>you</i> had dropped?" asked Mortmain stupidly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, certainly. I had the papers connected with Lord Russell's loans
+sent here. Flaggs brought 'em&mdash;and I dropped an envelope. I <i>did</i> drop
+it, because Flaggs found it here this morning."</p>
+
+<p>"What was in it?" asked Sir Richard eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>Flynt elevated his brows.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, if you don't mind my speaking of it, there were some old notes of
+yours which had been renewed at various times. I make a practice of
+keeping the originals as a matter of precaution."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" sighed Mortmain. "<i>Old</i> notes?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Old</i> notes," answered Flynt. "Notes taken up and renewed by others."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" sighed Mortmain again. "You <i>did</i> drop<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> them, but not in the
+study. I found them on the street. They gave me quite a turn."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we will tear them up now," laughed Flynt.</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, sir," said Joyce, opening the door and handing a long box to
+Miss Fickles; "some roses with Lady Bella Forsythe's compliments, and
+'opin' as 'ow you'll soon be all right again, sir."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="newchapter1"><a name="THE_RESCUE_OF_THEOPHILUS_NEWBEGIN" id="THE_RESCUE_OF_THEOPHILUS_NEWBEGIN"></a>THE RESCUE OF THEOPHILUS NEWBEGIN</h2>
+
+
+<h3 class="newchapter2"><a name="THE_RESCUE_OF_THEOPHILUS_NEWBEGIN_I" id="THE_RESCUE_OF_THEOPHILUS_NEWBEGIN_I"></a>I</h3>
+
+
+<p>The <i>Dirigo</i> was a one-hundred-and-twenty-two foot gunboat, spick and
+span from the Cavite yard&mdash;lithe as a panther, swift as a petrel, gray
+as the mists off Hi-tai-sha&mdash;and she was his very own. The biggest,
+reddest day in all his twenty-three years of life was when the Admiral's
+order had come to leave the <i>Ohio</i>, where he had acted as a sort of
+apotheosized messenger boy and general escort to civilians' fat wives,
+and to proceed at once to Shanghai to assume command of her, provision
+and await further orders. It had cost him nine dollars and seventy-five
+cents to cable the joyful news adequately to his mother in Baltimore,
+and although the family resources were small&mdash;his father had died a
+lieutenant commander the year before&mdash;she had cabled back a "good luck
+and God bless you" to him. He only got as an ensign a paltry one hundred
+and twenty-eight dollars per month, and out of it came his mess bills
+and other expenses, but for all that he had enough to go down Nanking
+road and buy his mother a handsome mandarin cloak&mdash;Harry Dupont was
+going back on leave&mdash;and then to invite all the fellows he knew in
+Shanghai harbor to a jamboree at the club. It was going on at the time
+this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> story opens, boisterously and uproariously as befits the blow-out
+of a twenty-three-year old ensign who has just received his first
+command. The older civilians, who were drinking their comfortable
+"B&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S" on the veranda, merely shrugged their shoulders as an impromptu
+refrain rose louder and louder to the pounding of bottles and the jingle
+of silverware.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here's to the Kid and the <i>Dirigo</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He's off for a cruise on the Hwang-ho!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The officers of the squadron, not wishing to spoil the fun, slipped off
+to the billiard room or the bridge tables, or strolled back to the bar.
+Most of them had letters to write for the American mail, which would
+leave the following morning, and more than one sighed as he glanced
+toward the upper veranda from below the club house. They knew how many
+and how long the years would be before any of those boys would be called
+"captain"&mdash;well, let them enjoy themselves! What was the use of
+croaking? There were compensations&mdash;of a sort. Even if one's people
+<i>were</i> all on the other side of the globe or migrating from boarding
+house to boarding house in a vain endeavor to keep up with the changes
+in the billets of their husbands and fathers, one was still an officer
+of Uncle Sam's navy.</p>
+
+<p>So reflected Follansbee, executive officer of the flagship <i>Ohio</i>, which
+had slipped into Woosung, ten miles below Shanghai, just as the sunset
+gun on the forts was echoing over the closely packed junks along the
+water front, and while the boy was engrossed to the extent of total
+oblivion with the club steward over the decoration of his dinner table
+and the choice between various highly recommended brands of Scotch and
+Irish. Follansbee<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> was a good sort, who had already waited thirty-five
+years to get his battleship and was waiting still, and he had seen Jack
+Russell, the boy's father, die the year before at Teng-chan of a
+combination of liver and disappointment, all too common among naval
+officers in the East. Follansbee's own liver was none of the best, but
+he had cut down on the drink, and, anyhow, his wife was coming out on
+the <i>Empress of India</i> next month. He hoped to God the <i>Ohio</i> wouldn't
+be ordered to Sulu or some place impossible for her to follow him. That
+boy of Russell's&mdash;he liked that boy, he was all to the good; knew his
+place and kept his mouth shut. Follansbee wasn't going to butt in and
+spoil his fun. It would do him good to get a little drunk. He remembered
+when he got <i>his</i> first gunboat&mdash;thirty years ago. Whew! Follansbee
+stared up at the veranda, then sighed again and started down the <i>bund</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Shanghai harbor was alive with light. The murmur of the city rose and
+fell on the soft, fragrant air, shockingly penetrated every now and then
+by the discordant shrieks of swiftly hurrying launches. The <i>bund</i> was
+crowded with coolies, some toiling with heavy loads, others pulling
+their 'rikishas. Here and there flashed the colored lanterns of
+pedestrians. Beyond the junks lay many cruisers sweeping the starlit
+night with their quickly moving searchlights. Then one of these took him
+bang between the eyes and he stumbled and fell against some one coming
+up the walk.</p>
+
+<p>"Where the deuce&mdash;!" shouted a clear young voice angrily. Then the note
+changed. "I beg pardon, sir&mdash;these confounded lights&mdash;I didn't see you
+at all."</p>
+
+<p>Follansbee returned the midshipman's salute.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't mention it!" he growled. "But what are you doing ashore? I
+thought you had the deck."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>"I did, but I'm trying to find Russell. The Admiral wants him. I took
+the ship's launch to the <i>Dirigo</i> and they said there he was ashore and
+hadn't left any word, only that he'd be back late. Have you seen him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you <i>hear</i> him?" inquired Follansbee laconically.</p>
+
+<p>A figure in white duck loomed suddenly into view on the veranda rail
+waving a bottle and shouting at the top of his lungs:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0q">"I've got command of the <i>Dirigo</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An' I'm off for a cruise on the Hwang-ho!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>followed by a tremendous chorus accompanied by cracking glass and
+unearthly yells.</p>
+
+<p>"Do I!" exclaimed the midshipman under his breath. "Is that him?"</p>
+
+<p>At that moment a searchlight illumined the figure in question and the
+midshipman answering his own question, "Yes, that's him," scrambled on
+up the steps.</p>
+
+<p>Follansbee wondered how long it would take to deliver the Admiral's
+order and felt his way gingerly through the crowded street.</p>
+
+<p>When the midshipman burst panting upon them they were standing on their
+chairs with their arms around one another's necks shouting the swinging
+chorus of</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0q">"The good old summer ti-i-me!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, the good old summer ti-i-me!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For she's my tootsie-wootsie in<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The good old summer ti-i-me!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"Come on up! There's plenty of room on my chair!" cried the boy
+excitedly, at sight of the midship<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>man, "we've only just begun." His
+face was very, very red and his eyes were very, very bright.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0q">"Oh, the good old summer time!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, the good old&mdash;&mdash;"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"Here, what's the matter with you? Let me alone! What?"</p>
+
+<p>He dropped his arms and climbed soberly enough down to the veranda floor
+while his comrades continued their refrain.</p>
+
+<p>"Orders! From the Admiral! Is he here? I didn't know that the <i>Ohio</i> had
+come in. With you in a jiffy."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't wait," urged the midshipman, "it's important!"</p>
+
+<p>The boy turned white.</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't&mdash;bad news?" he asked apprehensively.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," answered the other quickly, remembering the news the boy had
+had the year before. "Just orders."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I won't spoil their fun," said the boy, echoing the sentiments
+earlier expressed by Follansbee. "Back in a minute, fellows: I've got to
+telephone! On with the dance, let joy be unrefined!"</p>
+
+<p>While they slipped through the door the chorus changed again, and as the
+boy seized his cap, sprang down the steps and started for the launch
+landing, high above and behind him, he could still hear them singing:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0q">"Here's to the Kid and the <i>Dirigo</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He's off for a cruise on the Hwang-ho!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="newchapter"><a name="THE_RESCUE_OF_THEOPHILUS_NEWBEGIN_II" id="THE_RESCUE_OF_THEOPHILUS_NEWBEGIN_II"></a>II</h3>
+
+
+<p>"You sent for me, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>Jack Russell stood in the doorway of the Admiral's cabin on the <i>Ohio</i>,
+cap in hand. The Admiral had been poring over some papers on his desk
+and for a moment did not dissect the voice from the whirring of the
+electric fan over his head, but as the boy took a step or two forward he
+turned and nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it's you, Russell. I didn't mean to disturb you on shore, but I've
+something for you to do and the sooner you start the better."</p>
+
+<p>The boy awaited his words breathlessly&mdash;his first orders.</p>
+
+<p>"It's rather a mean job, but I've nobody else available and, if you make
+good&mdash;of course, you <i>will</i> make good&mdash;in fact, it's rather a chance to
+distinguish yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, sir."</p>
+
+<p>The Admiral paused as if surely to observe the effect of his words.</p>
+
+<p>"I want you to rescue a couple of missionaries."</p>
+
+<p>The boy's countenance remained immobile.</p>
+
+<p>"I received word this evening," continued the Admiral, picking up a
+half-smoked cigar, "that the rebellion has spread into Hu-peh and as far
+south as Kui-chan. They have murdered three American missionaries. Most
+of the others have escaped and have been reported safe,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> but nothing can
+be learned of two missionaries at Chang-Yuan&mdash;very estimable people,
+highly thought of in their denomination."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," said the boy, his eyes beaming on the Admiral.</p>
+
+<p>"You are to start at once&mdash;at once, understand, and go up the river past
+Hankow and Yochow. At Tung-an you reach the treaty limits, but you
+haven't time to explain, and probably explanations wouldn't do any good.
+There are two old forts there, and you'll just have to run by
+them&mdash;that's all. It is six hundred miles to Hankow. With luck you can
+be there easily inside of four days, but Chang-Yuan isn't on the
+Yang-tse-Kiang&mdash;it's on the Yuang-Kiang somewhere on Lake Tung-ting.
+You've got to find it first, and the charts are of no use. The trouble
+is that the lake dries up in winter and in summer overflows all the
+country round. If you can't get a local guide who knows the channel you
+will have to trust to luck. The fact that it's in the forbidden
+territory adds one more difficulty, but if I know Jack Russell's
+son&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you, sir!" cried the boy. "What a chance!" he added half to
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is a chance," answered the Admiral, "and I'm glad you've got
+it, but if you get aground among the rioting natives!&mdash;well, it's got to
+be done."</p>
+
+<p>"I have no interpreter, sir," said the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Smith has secured one," replied the Admiral, "and through him we have
+found a Shan-si-man who says he knows the river above Hankow and is
+willing to act as guide. They are on the lower deck waiting. You will,
+of course, have the government pilot as far as Hankow. Now, good luck to
+you. I expect to be here for two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> weeks and you will report to me at
+once on your return your success or failure." He held out his hand.
+"Good luck to you again."</p>
+
+<p>The boy shook hands with the Admiral but still remained standing beside
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said the Admiral. "Is there anything else?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied the boy apologetically, "you have not given me
+the&mdash;gentleman's name."</p>
+
+<p>"Bless my soul! So I haven't!" exclaimed the Admiral, fumbling among his
+papers, then raising one to the light: "The Rev. Theophilus Newbegin,"
+he read slowly, "and wife."</p>
+
+<p>The boy saluted his Admiral and retired with a respectful "Good night,
+sir." Once in the privacy of the wardroom companionway, however, he
+began to giggle, which giggle speedily expanded into a loud guffaw on
+his reaching the main deck. It sounded vaguely like "Newbegin." He
+leaned against the forward awning pole, shaking with laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, what's the joke?" inquired the midshipman approaching him from
+the shadow of the main turret. "Let a fellow in, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>But the boy still shook silently without replying.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, go on! What's the joke?" repeated the other. "Did 'Whiskers' give
+you a 'Laughing Julip'?"</p>
+
+<p>"Newbegin!" exploded the boy. "Newbegin!"</p>
+
+<p>"New begin what?" persisted the midshipman irritably. "Have you gone
+dotty? I hope you didn't act that way in 'Whiskers'' cabin. I believe
+you're drunk!"</p>
+
+<p>The boy suddenly jerked himself together.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Smith, you shut up. I'm your rankin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> officer and I won't
+have such language. I'll tell you the joke&mdash;when I know whether it is
+one or not."</p>
+
+<p>Smith made a face at him.</p>
+
+<p>"By the way, smarty," continued the boy, "have you got two Chinks for
+me? If you have, send 'em along. I'm off to the <i>Dirigo</i> on the launch."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I got 'em at the English consul's. Say, what's up? Can't you tell
+a feller?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Smith, send those two Chinks to the gangway!" thundered the boy.</p>
+
+<p>The midshipman turned and walked hastily around the turret.</p>
+
+<p>"Here you, Yen, come out of there!" he called.</p>
+
+<p>Two Chinamen arose from the deck where they had been sitting
+crosslegged, leaning against the turret, and shuffled slowly forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Here are your Chinks!" growled Smith, still aggrieved.</p>
+
+<p>The ensign paid no further attention to him but pushed the nearest
+Chinaman toward the gangway.</p>
+
+<p>"Get along, boys," he remarked, "your Uncle William is in a hurry." As
+the smaller of the two seemed averse to haste he gave him a slight
+forward impetus with his pipe-clayed boot. The two descended more
+rapidly and he followed. A sudden regret took possession of him as he
+thought of the possibility of his never seeing Smith again&mdash;of his dying
+of thirst, aground in a dried-up lake&mdash;or of being tortured to death in
+a cage in a Chinese prison.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-by, Smithy," he called over his shoulder. But there was no answer.</p>
+
+<p>The launch was bobbing at the foot of the steps, its screw churning the
+water into a boiling froth that re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>flected a million strange gleams
+against the warship's water line. The Chinamen hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Get along, boys," he repeated, stepping into the stern sheets. "We've
+got a long way to go and we might as well begin&mdash;Newbegin."</p>
+
+<p>The Chinamen huddled under the launch's canopy, the boy gave the word to
+go ahead, the bell rang sharply and the launch started on its long trip
+up to Shanghai.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly the <i>Ohio</i> receded from him, somber, implacable, sphinxlike. On
+her bridge a man was wigwagging to the <i>Oregon</i> with an electric signal.
+The searchlights from the war vessels arose and wavered like huge
+antenn&aelig; feeling for something through the night, now and again paving a
+golden path from the launch to the ships. The illusion was that the
+vessels were moving away from the launch, not the launch from them. Out
+of the zone of the searchlights the water was black and lonesome. Just
+as soon as the ships got far enough away to appear stationary the launch
+seemed racing through the water at a hundred miles an hour. Other
+launches shrieked past bearing to their ships officers who had just come
+down by train to Woosung. Up the Whompoa River the ten-mile-distant
+lights of Shanghai cast a dim, nebulous glow against the midnight sky.
+Two hours later the little <i>Dirigo</i> seemed to loom out of the darkness
+and come rapidly toward them as the launch ran up to her gangway.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that you, McGaw?" called the boy sharply. "Here are two Chinks, an
+interpreter and another one. Fix 'em up somewhere. We start up the
+Yang-tse as soon as you can get up steam. I want to make Nanking by day
+after to-morrow sunrise. Send ashore and get the pilot. Don't waste any
+time, either."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>"All right, sir," answered the midshipman, "we can start in half an
+hour, sir."</p>
+
+<p>The boy ran up the ladder, followed slowly by the Chinamen. At the cabin
+companionway he paused and looked at his watch. It was half after one
+o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>"Here you, boys," he shouted after the Chinamen, "come down into my
+cabin, I want to speak to you."</p>
+
+<p>He led the way down into his tiny wardroom and threw himself into a
+wicker chair placed at the focus of two electric fans. The thermometer
+registered ninety degrees Fahrenheit, but it was almost as hot on deck
+as below, and below various thirst alleviators were at hand. He poured
+out a whisky and soda and beckoned to the Chinamen to draw nearer. The
+first was short, fat, and jovial, with chronic humor creases about his
+mouth, and his hair done in a long orthodox cue which hung almost to the
+heels of his felt slippers. The other, the Shan-si man, was tall and
+square-shouldered, and he carried his chin high and his arms folded in
+front of him. His cue was curled flat on his head, and on his face was
+the expression of him who walks with the immortal gods.</p>
+
+<p>"What's your name?" asked the boy, waving the Manila cheroot he was
+lighting at the fat Chinaman. The little man grinned instantly, his face
+breaking into stereotyped wrinkles like an alligator-skin wallet.</p>
+
+<p>"Me&mdash;Yen. Charley Yen. Me belong good fella," he added with confidence.
+"Mucha laugh."</p>
+
+<p>"Who's the other chap?" inquired the boy. "He no mucha laugh, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>Yen shrugged his shoulders and, looking straight in front of him, held
+voluble discourse with his comrade.</p>
+
+<p>"He no say," he finally replied. "He velly ploud. He say his ancestors
+belong number one men before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> Uncle Sam maka live. He say it maka no
+diffence. You maka pay, he maka show. Name no matter."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm sort of proud myself," remarked the boy, hiding a smile by
+sucking on his cheroot. "Tell this learned one that I know just how he
+feels. Tell him I'm going to call him 'Mr. Dooley' after the most
+learned man in America."</p>
+
+<p>Yen addressed a few remarks to the Shan-si man who murmured something in
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>"He tanka you."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you're a Christian?" asked the boy, suddenly recollecting the
+object of his expedition.</p>
+
+<p>"I belong Clistian, allasame you," answered Yen, assuming a quasi-devout
+expression. "Me believe foreign man joss allight."</p>
+
+<p>The boy regarded him thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Me b'lieve Chinee joss pigeon, too," added Yen cheerfully. "Me mucha
+b'lieve. B'lieve everyt'ing. Me good fun."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the boy, "how about 'Dooley'?&mdash;is he a Christian?"</p>
+
+<p>Yen turned, but at his first liquid syllable the man from Shan-si drew
+himself up until it seemed that his shoulders would touch the cabin
+roof, and burst forth into a torrent of speech. Yen translated rapidly,
+scurrying along behind his sentences like a carriage dog beneath an
+axletree.</p>
+
+<p>No, he was no Christian. The sword of Hung-hsui-chuen had slain his
+ancestors. Twenty millions of people had perished by the sword of the
+Taipings. The murderous cry of "Sha Yao"<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> had laid the land desolate.
+He was faithful to the gods of his ancestors.</p>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> "Slay the Idolaters."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p></div>
+
+<p>"Tell 'Dooley' I lika him. Say I think he's a good sport," said the boy,
+nodding at the Shan-si man.</p>
+
+<p>"He say mucha tanks," translated Yen.</p>
+
+<p>"Ask him if he knows Lake Tung-ting."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dooley conveyed to the boy through Yen that he had been once to
+Chang-Yuan. The lake was wide in summer and he had been there at that
+time. He took pleasure in the service of the American Captain. But the
+Captain must be patient. He was a musk buyer, buying musk in western
+Szechuan on the Thibetan border. Two years ago he had saved five hundred
+taels and returned home to bury his family&mdash;nine persons counting his
+wife&mdash;all of whom had perished in the famine. The famine was very
+devastating. Then he married again one whom he had left at home. He
+allowed her ten taels a year. She could live on one pickle of wheat and
+she had the rest to spend as she liked. He preferred better the musk
+buying and returned. He gave the Captain much thanks.</p>
+
+<p>"That is very interesting," said the boy. "You may go."</p>
+
+<p>There was a tremendous rattling of chains along the sides, the steam
+winch began to click, and the two Chinamen vanished silently up the
+companionway. The boy leaned back in his wicker chair and gazed
+contemplatively about him at the shotgun and sporting rifle over the
+bookcase, the piles of paper-covered novels, the pointer dog coiled up
+on the transom, the lithographs fastened to the walls, and the
+photographs of his father and mother. He took another sip of whisky and
+water and, putting down the glass, thought of how proud his father would
+have been to see him in his first command. He had the happy
+consciousness of having done well, and he was go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>ing to make good&mdash;the
+Admiral had said so. He had had a bully time in the East so far, away
+ahead of what he had dreamed when at the Naval Academy. That winter at
+Newchwang, racing the little Manchurian ponies over the springy turf of
+the polo ground, shooting the big golden pheasants, wandering on leave
+through the country, stopping at the Chinese inns and taking chances
+among the Hanghousers. It had been great. Hong Kong had been great. It
+had been good fun to play tennis and drink tea with the
+pink-and-white-faced English girls. Well, he was off! His naval career
+had really begun. He lit another cheroot and strolled leisurely on deck
+to superintend the operation of heaving up the anchors.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly the <i>Dirigo</i> floated away from the lights of Shanghai, felt her
+way cautiously down the Wompoa to Woosung and into the broad expanse of
+the Yang-tse. Anchored well out lay the <i>Ohio</i> black against the coming
+dawn. A band of crimson clouds swept the lowlands to the east and
+between them the tide flowed in an oily purple flood.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="newchapter"><a name="THE_RESCUE_OF_THEOPHILUS_NEWBEGIN_III" id="THE_RESCUE_OF_THEOPHILUS_NEWBEGIN_III"></a>III</h3>
+
+
+<p>A heavy jar followed by a motionless silence awoke the boy at ten
+o'clock the next morning. The electric fans were still going and he had
+a thick taste in his mouth, but he had hardly time to notice these
+things before he dashed up the companionway and out upon the deck. To
+starboard the water extended to the horizon, to port a thin line of
+brown, a shade deeper in color than the water, marked the bank of the
+great river. Alongside helplessly floated a junk with a great gash in
+her starboard beam. She was loaded with crockery, and several bales of
+blue-and-white rice bowls had tumbled into the water, their contents
+bobbing about like a flock of clay pigeons. The boy saw instantly that
+owing to the fact that the junk was built in compartments she was in no
+danger of sinking, and could easily reach shore. Her captain, a
+half-naked man in a straw hat the size of a small umbrella, was
+chattering like a monkey at Charley Yen, and a Chinese woman, with a
+black-eyed baby of two years or thereabouts, sat idly in the stern
+evincing no particular interest in the accident. The man at the wheel
+explained that the junk had suddenly tacked. The boy felt in his pocket
+and, pulling out a Mexican dollar, tossed it to the junk man, who,
+having rubbed it on his sleeve and bitten it, began to chatter anew to
+Charley Yen.</p>
+
+<p>"What does he say?" asked the boy.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>"He say Captain belong number one man&mdash;he mucha tanks," answered Yen
+with a grin. What a waste! he added. The fellow had sailed on the feast
+day of Sai-Kao because on that day the Likin or native customs were
+closed. The gods had punished him. He had no complaint to make and had
+made none. As the <i>Dirigo</i> shot ahead the junk man sprang into the water
+and began rescuing his rice bowls. They passed no other junk that day,
+and the leaden sky did not change its shade. Save for the driving of the
+screw they might have been anchored in the midst of a coffee-colored
+ocean. Not even a bird relieved the eager search of the eye for relief
+from the immeasurable brown. The heat continued intense, and was even
+more unbearable than when the sun's rays created a fictitious contrast
+of shadow. Early in the afternoon Yen called the boy's attention to a
+couple of dolphins which were following them, racing first with the
+<i>Dirigo</i> and then with each other. Indeed, they were all three very much
+alike, and the majestic sweep and rush of the gray-white sides as they
+rose from the water inspired him with a sense of companionship. How far
+would they follow, these faithlessly faithful wanderers of the sea? At
+sunrise the next morning they picked up Nanking and the river gave more
+evidence of life, but they kept on and soon the city and its walls faded
+behind them. At noon they passed Wu-hu, at the same hour next day
+Kiukiang, and when the boy rose on the morning of the third day out, the
+black mass of crowded up-country junks on the water front of Hankow,
+swarming like mosquitoes or water flies about a stagnant pool, loomed
+into view. The river was full of sampans and fishing boats. The man from
+Shan-si, who had not spoken since the night in the cabin, raised his
+arm, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> pointing to the pagoda repeated majestically to Yen the words
+of the ancient Chinese proverb:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0q">"Above is Heaven's Hall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Below are the cities of Su and Hang."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>During the day they passed Kia-yu and Su-ki-kan, and late in the
+afternoon swept into sight of Yo-chow. The Shan-si man announced that
+Tung-ting was not so very far away. He even volunteered that this was
+the greatest country under "Heaven's Hall" for the exportation of
+bristles, feathers, fungus, musk, nutgalls, opium, and safflower. The
+place presented a crowded, if not particularly ambitious, appearance.
+The shore was jammed, as usual, with thousands of junks, and above the
+town the muddy banks were lined with Hunan timber and bamboo rafts. From
+the bridge of the <i>Dirigo</i> the boy caught from time to time swiftly
+shifting views of vast swampy plains, with a ragged line of scattered
+distant mountains. Then they passed beyond the bend in the river and
+suddenly entered what seemed another ocean, a northwest passage to
+Cathay. As far as the eye could reach stretched an illimitable void of
+waters, turbid, motionless. A rocky point, some ten feet higher than the
+surrounding plain, just gave a foothold for a small temple, a two-story
+Ting-tse or pavilion, and a lighthouse shaped like a square paper
+lantern. Ten minutes later it was a black spot in their boiling, brown
+wake. They were in Tung-ting, that desolate waste of mud, water, and
+sandhill islands, half swamp, half lake that rises into being by virtue
+of the expanding spring torrents, and sinks into its spongelike alluvial
+bed as mysteriously as it comes.</p>
+
+<p>"Whew!" whistled the boy, "I only hope 'Dooley' knows where he's at. I
+wish we'd taken on a <i>lao-ta</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> at Hankow. This hole must be a hundred
+miles long and it's just about ten feet deep!"</p>
+
+<p>In fact, the quartermaster had already called the boy's attention to the
+long grasses that swung idly upon the top of the water, and to the fact
+that here and there patches of bottom could be seen.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Chang-Yuan in all this mess?" he inquired of 'Dooley' who with
+Yen occupied a place beside him on the bridge.</p>
+
+<p>The Shan-si pointed to a conical-shaped island several miles distant
+which raised itself steeply out of the water, on which the boy could see
+through his glasses clung a Chinese village. Flocks of wild fowl
+speckled the middle distance with a single lone fisherman on the
+starboard bow.</p>
+
+<p>"He says," interrupted Yen, "Sim-wu have got on that island. This place
+belong very good for Chinaman&mdash;have got plenty of rice. Plenty water
+summer time. Winter time water all finish. He says he no think enough
+water for this boat. Little more far&mdash;about thirty li&mdash;have got 'nother
+island&mdash;after while catchee Chang-Yuan."</p>
+
+<p>"Ask him how fast his bloomin' lake is drying up," directed the boy.</p>
+
+<p>The Shan-si man shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"He says," announced Yen, "if fish belong thirsty they drink water
+plenty quick. Fish no thirsty plenty water. Sometime fish drink one foot
+water in four days."</p>
+
+<p>The sun, which up to this time had been visible only as a dim circle in
+the gray western sky, suddenly broke through with scorching intensity
+and at the same moment the <i>Dirigo</i> slid gracefully upon a mudbank, half
+turned,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> and slid gracefully off again. The boy bit his lips and stared
+hopelessly at the yellow plain of water all about him. Then he shook his
+fist at the Shan-si man.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell him," he roared, "that if we get aground in his infernal lake,
+I'll hang him up by the thumbs and cut off his head."</p>
+
+<p>Yen conveyed the message.</p>
+
+<p>"Even so," replied the Shan-si, through the interpreter, "the will of
+the Captain is my will and my head is at the Captain's service, but even
+the gods cannot prevent the fish from drinking up the lake."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="newchapter"><a name="THE_RESCUE_OF_THEOPHILUS_NEWBEGIN_IV" id="THE_RESCUE_OF_THEOPHILUS_NEWBEGIN_IV"></a>IV</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Ugh! What a town!" exclaimed the boy as the <i>Dirigo</i> dropped anchor
+Sunday morning a hundred yards off the embankment of Chang-Yuan. A
+broiling sun beat pitilessly upon the deck of the gunboat and upon the
+half mile of mud and ooze which lay along the water edge of the town.
+Even in summer Chang-Yuan was well above the water, the shore pitching
+steeply to the level of the lake. Down this incline was thrown all the
+waste and garbage of the town, and in the slime grubbed and rooted a
+horde of Chinese dogs and pigs and a score of human scavengers. Just
+above the <i>Dirigo</i> hung a house of entertainment, from the rickety
+balcony of which a throng of curious citizens stared down inquisitively.
+To the left stood a guild house and a pagoda, and five noble flights of
+stone steps crowned with archways led from the water to the roadway, but
+these last were so covered with slime that climbing up and over the muck
+seemed preferable to risking a fall on their treacherous surfaces.</p>
+
+<p>"Ugh! What a hole!" repeated the boy. "Hah! Get away there you!" he
+shouted at the <i>sampans</i> which swarmed around the <i>Dirigo</i>. "Here you,
+Yen, tell the beggars to keep off!"</p>
+
+<p>This Yen did, assuring the occupants of the boats that boiling oil would
+be distributed upon them if they did not retire.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>So this was Chang-Yuan! The boy sniffed the malodorous air and wrinkled
+his nose.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0q">"What though the spicy breezes blow soft o'er Ceylon's Isle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where every prospect pleases and only man is vile!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Gee! I wish the old boy that wrote that could have seen this place!
+Every prospect pleases! Only <i>man</i> is vile! This town is a sort of human
+pigsty so far as I can see. And I'll bet there is a fat old <i>erfu</i>
+hiding in the middle of this rabbit warren who makes a good thing out of
+it, you bet!"</p>
+
+<p>The crowd on the embankment was growing momentarily larger, a silent,
+slit-eyed crowd of uncanny yellow faces. Beyond and under the distant
+line of blue hills thin columns of smoke marked the sites of the towns
+devastated by the inconsiderate Wu. A friend of Yen's had told the
+latter all about it. He had come aboard and had breakfasted, and for
+five hundred cash had been induced to admit that at the present juncture
+Chang-Yuan was a most unhealthy place for missionaries, that the
+inhabitants were quite ready to join Wu, and that when he arrived there
+would be the Chinese devil to pay. He offered for five hundred cash more
+to act as guide to the <i>erfu's</i> house. On the whole, it seemed desirable
+to accept his proposition. Half an hour later a boat put off from the
+<i>Dirigo</i> containing the boy, Yen, the friend, and four bluejackets. The
+crowd on the embankment almost pushed one another off the edge in their
+eagerness to watch the white devils climbing up the steps, and hardly
+allowed room for the boy and his squad to force a way through them.</p>
+
+<p>Chang-Yuan was a typical example of an inland Chinese town, with dirty,
+narrow streets, swarming with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> human vermin. A throng followed close at
+the Americans' heels as they marched to the <i>erfu's</i> house, but quailed
+before the bodyguard who rushed out threateningly at them. It took half
+an hour before the <i>erfu</i> could receive them and then they were ushered
+into a dim room where a flabby old man, with a sly, vacant face sat
+crosslegged before a curtain. Through Yen, the boy explained that he had
+called as an act of official courtesy, and that he had come to remove
+certain American missionaries from danger which he understood existed by
+virtue of the proximity of the rebel Wu. The <i>erfu</i> listened without
+expression. Then he spoke into the air.</p>
+
+<p>He was much honored at the visit of the American naval officer. But what
+could a poor old man like himself do against the great Wu? He had no
+soldiers. The townsfolk were ready to join the rebels. It was only a
+question of time. He could do nothing. He regretted extremely his
+inability to furnish assistance to the Americans.</p>
+
+<p>The boy asked if it was true that the rioters were on their way and
+might reach the town that afternoon. The <i>erfu</i> said it was so. Then,
+after warning him that the United States Government would hold him
+responsible for the lives of its citizens, the boy retired, convinced
+that the sooner he got his missionaries away the better it would be for
+them.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="newchapter"><a name="THE_RESCUE_OF_THEOPHILUS_NEWBEGIN_V" id="THE_RESCUE_OF_THEOPHILUS_NEWBEGIN_V"></a>V</h3>
+
+
+<p>The Rev. Theophilus Newbegin had just concluded divine service upon the
+veranda of the mission. Beyond the iron gateway a crowd of twenty or so
+onlookers still lingered, commenting upon the performance which they had
+witnessed, and jeering at the Chinese women who had just hurried away.
+Two of the women were carrying babies and all had had the cholera the
+season before. Because they had not died they attended service and were
+objects of hatred to their relatives. The Rev. Newbegin closed his Bible
+and wiped his broad, shining forehead with a red silk handkerchief. He
+was a large man who had once been fat and was now thin. Owing to the
+collapse of his too solid flesh his Chinese garments hung baggily upon
+his person and gave him an unduly emaciated appearance.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Newbegin was still stout. Ten years of mission life had not
+disturbed her vague placidity and she sat as contentedly upon the
+veranda in Chang-Yuan as she had sat in her garden summer-house in
+distant Bangor, Maine, whence she and her husband had come. The fire of
+missionary zeal had not diminished in either of them. The word had come
+to them one July morning from the lips of an eloquent local preacher,
+and full of inspiration they had responded to the call and departed "for
+the glory of the Lord."</p>
+
+<p>And China had swallowed them up. Twice a year,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> sometimes oftener, a
+boat brought bundles of newspapers and magazines, and a barrel or two
+containing all sorts of valueless odds and ends, antiquated books,
+games, and ill-assorted clothing. These barrels were the great annoyance
+of their lives. Often as he dug into their variegated contents the meek
+soul of the Rev. Theophilus rebelled at being made the repository of
+such junk.</p>
+
+<p>"One would think, Henrietta," sadly sighed Newbegin, "that the good
+people at home imagined that we spent our time playing parchesi and the
+Mansion of Happiness, and reading Sandford and Merton."</p>
+
+<p>Once came a suit of clothes entirely bereft of buttons, and most of the
+undergarments were adapted to persons about half the size of the
+missionary and his wife, but the Rev. Newbegin had a little private
+fortune of his own and it cost very little to live in Chang-Yuan.</p>
+
+<p>The crowd at the gate had been bigger than usual this Sunday, and during
+the service had hurled a considerable quantity of mud and sticks and a
+few dead animals which now remained in the foreground, but this was due
+entirely to the new hatred of the foreign devils engendered by the
+rioters, and many of those who to-day howled at the gate of the compound
+had been glad enough six months before to creep to the veranda and beg
+for medicine and food. Now all was changed. The victorious Wu was coming
+to drive these child eaters from the land. Already he had laid the
+country waste for miles to the north and west, and had slain three witch
+doctors and hung their bodies upon pointed stakes before the temple
+gates. He was marching even now with his army from Tung-Kuan&mdash;a distance
+of fifteen miles. Nominally loyal to the dynasty, the inhabitants of
+Chang-Yuan eagerly awaited his coming. The white devils pretended<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> to
+heal the sick but in reality they poisoned them and caused the sickness
+themselves. Those who survived their potions had an evil spirit. The
+crowd at the gate licked its lips at what would take place when Wu
+should arrive. There would be a fine bonfire and a great killing of
+child eaters. Their hatred even extended to the daughter of the foreign
+devil&mdash;her whom once they had been wont to call "The Little White
+Saint," who had nursed their children through the cholera and brought
+them rice and rhubarb during the famine. Wu would come during the day
+and then&mdash;! The uproar at the gate grew louder. Newbegin laid his moist
+hand upon that of his wife and looked warningly at her as there came a
+rustle of silk inside the open door and their niece made her appearance.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret Wellington, now eighteen years old, had lived with them at
+Chang-Yuan for ten years. Her father, a naval officer, had died the year
+they had come out from America and they had picked up the little girl,
+the daughter of Newbegin's deceased only sister, at Hong Kong and
+brought her with them. Since then she had been as their daughter,
+working with them and entering enthusiastically into all their
+missionary labors. Sometimes they regretted not being able to give her a
+better education, and that she had no white companions but themselves,
+but the girl herself never seemed to miss these things and they believed
+that what was best for them was best for her. Were they not earning
+salvation? And was she not also? Was it not better for her to live in
+the Lord than to dwell in the tents of wickedness? Great as was their
+love for her it was nothing to their love for the Lord Jesus. For that
+they were ready and eager to lay down their lives&mdash;and hers.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>"Chi says the rioters are coming," said Margaret. Her hair was done in
+the Chinese fashion, and she was clad in Chinese dress from head to
+foot, for she had outgrown all her English clothes years ago and there
+were no others to take their place.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear," answered her aunt, "I am afraid they are."</p>
+
+<p>"He says they will kill us," continued the girl. She articulated her
+English words in a way peculiar to herself, due to her strange
+up-bringing, but there was no fear in her brown eyes, and the paleness
+of her face was due only to the heat.</p>
+
+<p>The mob at the gate set up a renewed yelling at sight of her.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear, dear!" said her uncle irresolutely, "I don't believe it will be
+as bad as that. They will calm down by and by." He really felt very
+badly about Margaret. To be killed was all in the day's work so far as
+Henrietta and he were concerned. They had anticipated it sooner or later
+almost as a matter of course, but Margaret&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A stick hurtled across the compound and fell on the veranda at his feet.
+He knew that it would take but little to excite the mob at the gate to
+frenzy, but he had made no preparations to defend the compound, for it
+would have been quite useless. In that swarming city what could one aged
+missionary and two women do to protect themselves? Chi, the only male
+convert, was hardly to be depended upon and all the rest were women. No,
+when the time came they would surrender their lives and accept
+martyrdom. It was for that that they had come to China. Newbegin's mind
+worked slowly, but he was a man of infinite courage.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>"Dear, dear!" he repeated, looking toward the gate.</p>
+
+<p>"Cowards!" cried the girl, her eyes flashing. "Ungrateful people! They
+will kill us, and Chi, and Om, and Su, and the other women and their
+babies. We must do something to protect them."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me! Dear me!" stammered her uncle again, rubbing his eyes. The
+crowd at the gate had fallen back and a strange vision had taken its
+place. Involuntarily he removed his hat. The girl uttered a cry of
+astonishment as the gate swung open and a young man in a white duck
+uniform entered the compound followed by four erect figures also in
+white and carrying rifles on their shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Bless me!" exclaimed Newbegin, "it looks like a naval officer!"</p>
+
+<p>The boy came straight to the veranda and touched his cap.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you the Rev. Theophilus Newbegin?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"I am," answered the missionary, holding out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I am John Russell, ensign in command of the U.&nbsp;S. gunboat <i>Dirigo</i>. I
+have been sent by Admiral Wheeler to assist you to leave Chang-Yuan."</p>
+
+<p>"Bless me!" exclaimed the Rev. Theophilus. "Very kind of him, I'm sure!
+And you, too, of course, and you, too! Henrietta, let me introduce you
+to Ensign Russell. Er&mdash;won't those&mdash;er&mdash;gentlemen come inside and sit
+down?" he added, staring vaguely at the squad of bluejackets.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, they're all right!" said the boy, shaking hands with Mrs. Newbegin,
+and wondering what sort of a queer old guy this was whom he had been
+sent to rescue.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> "Beastly hot, isn't it? Do you have it like this
+often?"</p>
+
+<p>"Eight months in the year," said Mrs. Newbegin, "but we're used to it."</p>
+
+<p>At this moment the boy became conscious of the presence of one whom he
+at first took to be the prettiest Chinese girl he had ever seen.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me present my niece&mdash;Ensign Russell," said Newbegin.</p>
+
+<p>The boy held out his hand but the girl only smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"It is very good of you to come so far to help us," said the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no trouble at all!" exclaimed the boy without taking his eyes from
+her face. "I'm glad I got here in time," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you come on a ship?" asked the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Just a little gunboat," he answered, "but that makes me think. This
+plagued lake is sinking all the time. I got aground in half a dozen
+places. We've got to start right along back. I'm by no means sure we can
+get out as it is, but it's better than staying here. You'd oblige me by
+packing up as quickly as possible."</p>
+
+<p>"Eh?" said the Rev. Theophilus, with something of a start, "what's
+that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that we've got to start right along or we'll be stuck here and
+won't be able to get away at all."</p>
+
+<p>"But I can't abandon the mission!" said Newbegin in wonder.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not!" echoed his wife placidly. "After all these years we
+cannot desert our post!"</p>
+
+<p>"But the rioters!" ejaculated the boy. "You'll be murdered! Wu will be
+here before night, they tell me, and there was a precious crowd of
+ruffians at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> gate as I came along. Why, you can't stay to be
+killed!"</p>
+
+<p>Newbegin shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not understand," he said slowly. "We came out here to rescue
+these people from idolatry. Some of them have adopted Christianity.
+There are forty women and children converts. There are others who are
+almost persuaded; if we abandon them now we shall undo all our labor.
+No! we must stay with them, and die with them, if necessary, but we
+cannot go away now."</p>
+
+<p>"Great Scott!" cried the boy, "do you mean to say that&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We cannot desert our post," repeated Mrs. Newbegin, looking fondly at
+her husband.</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but&mdash;" began the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Even if we die, there is the example," said Newbegin.</p>
+
+<p>The boy was puzzled. Of missionaries he had a poor enough opinion in
+general, and this one looked like a great oaf and so did his fat wife,
+but in the most ordinary way and with the commonest of accents he was
+talking of "dying for the example." Then his eyes returned to the girl
+who had been watching him intently all the time.</p>
+
+<p>"But," he exclaimed, "certainly you won't place your niece in such
+danger?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Newbegin, "that would not be right."</p>
+
+<p>"No," repeated the wife, "she had better go back."</p>
+
+<p>"I will not go back," cried the girl, "unless you go, too! This is my
+home. Your work is my work. I cannot leave Om and Su and their babies."</p>
+
+<p>"Good God!" muttered the boy hopelessly. "Don't you see you <i>must</i> come?
+You <i>can't</i> stay here to be mur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>dered by the rioters! I can't <i>let</i> you!
+On the other hand, I can only stay here an hour or two at the most. The
+<i>Dirigo</i> is almost aground as it is and we shall have the dev&mdash;deuce of
+a time getting out of the lake."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Newbegin calmly, "I have told you that we cannot accept
+your offer. We are very grateful, of course, but it's impossible. It
+would not do; no, it would not do. A missionary expects this kind of a
+thing. I wish Margaret would go, but what can I do, if she won't go? I
+can't make her go."</p>
+
+<p>"I want to stay with you," said Margaret, taking his hand. "I will never
+leave you and Aunt Henrietta."</p>
+
+<p>The boy swore roundly to himself. The crowd of Chinese had returned to
+the gate, and the air of the compound stank in his nostrils. He took out
+his watch.</p>
+
+<p>"It's eleven o'clock," he said firmly. "At five I shall leave
+Chang-Yuan; till then you have to make up your minds. I will return in
+an hour or so."</p>
+
+<p>Newbegin shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Our answer will be the same. We are very grateful. I am sorry not to
+seem more hospitable. Have you seen the temple and the pagoda?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," answered the boy. "I suppose I might as well do the town, now I'm
+here."</p>
+
+<p>"I will show you the temple," said Margaret timidly. "They know me
+there, I nursed the child of the old priest. I will take you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Newbegin, "they all like Margaret, and I seem to be
+unpopular now. Will you not take dinner with us?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said the boy, "take dinner with <i>me</i>. Perhaps Mrs. Newbegin
+would like to see the gunboat, and I have some photographs of the new
+cruisers."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>Margaret gazed beseechingly at her.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said Newbegin, "if you will stop for us on your way back
+from the temple we shall be quite ready, but I must return at once after
+dinner in order to assemble the members of the mission."</p>
+
+<p>The girl led the way to the gate.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure you will not need the soldiers," she said; "it is but a short
+distance." The crowd, observing that the bluejackets had remained inside
+the compound, crowded close at the boy's heels as they threaded the
+streets to the temple.</p>
+
+<p>"I spend a good deal of time here," said the girl; "sometimes it is the
+only cool place."</p>
+
+<p>The boy paid the small charge for admission and followed his guide up
+the dim, winding stairs. It was dank and quiet; the priest had remained
+at the gate. From the blue-green shadows of the recesses upon the
+landings a score of Buddhas stared at them with sightless eyes. Suddenly
+they emerged into the clear air upon the platform of the top story and
+the girl spoke for the first time since they had entered.</p>
+
+<p>"There is Chang-Yuan," she said.</p>
+
+<p>The boy gazed down curiously. Below them blazed thousands of highly
+finished roofs, picturesque enough from this height, while beyond the
+town the soup-colored waters of the lake stretched limitless to the
+horizon. He could see the embankment and the little <i>Dirigo</i> at anchor,
+the <i>sampans</i> still swarming around it. To the south lay a country of
+swamps and of paddy fields; to the north the line of hills and the smoke
+of the burning towns.</p>
+
+<p>They sat down on a stone bench and gazed together at the uninviting
+prospect. He was beset with curiosity to ask her a thousand questions
+about herself, yet he did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> not know how to begin. She solved the problem
+for him, however.</p>
+
+<p>"I have lived here since I was eight years old," she remarked,
+apparently being unable to think of anything else to say.</p>
+
+<p>The boy whistled between his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you enjoy it?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," she replied, "I don't know anything else. Sometimes it
+seems dull and one has to work very hard, but I think I like it."</p>
+
+<p>"But what do you do," he inquired, "to amuse yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"I read," she said, "and play with Om and Su. I have taught them some
+American games. Do you know parchesi and the Mansion of Happiness?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I've played them," he admitted cautiously. "But do you never see
+any white people except your uncle and aunt?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, no," she said. "Two summers ago, after the cholera, we visited Dr.
+Ferguson at Chang-Wing&mdash;that is over there. He is a medical missionary,
+but I did not like him because he asked me to marry him. He was sixty
+years old. Do you think it was right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Right!" cried the boy. "It was a wicked sin."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he is the only white man I have met except you," said the girl.
+"Of course, I can remember a little playing with boys and girls a long,
+long time ago. Where is your ship?"</p>
+
+<p>"That little white one down there. Can you see?" said the boy, pointing.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, is that it?" she asked. "Where are its sails?"</p>
+
+<p>"There aren't any," he answered; "it goes by steam."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>"I have read the 'Voyage of the Sunbeam,'" she said, "it is a beautiful
+book. It came out last year in a box. I have nearly twenty books in
+all."</p>
+
+<p>The boy bit his lips. He was getting angry&mdash;angry that an American girl
+should have been imprisoned in such a hole all her young life&mdash;such a
+girl, too! What right had an elderly man and woman, even though they
+enjoyed the privilege of consanguinity, to exile a beautiful child from
+her native country and bring her up for the glory of God in a stewing,
+stinking, cholera-infested, famine-ridden Chinese village?</p>
+
+<p>"It is strange to find you here," he said finally. "I expected only some
+freckle-faced, jimmy-jawed, psalm-singing woman, who would tumble all
+over herself to get away."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him puzzled for a moment and then burst into a ripple of
+laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"What funny things you say!" she cried. "I suppose it is strange to find
+me here, but why should I have freckles or a&mdash;what did you call it&mdash;a
+jimmy-jaw? I do sing psalms. But my being here is no stranger than that
+you should be here. I have often wished some young man would come. You
+are the first I have known. I am tired of only women."</p>
+
+<p>For a moment he was almost shocked at the open implication, but her
+frank eyes and matter-of-fact tone told him that the girl could not
+flirt. It was out of her sphere of existence.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like to get married?" he hazarded.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes!" she cried. "To a young man!"</p>
+
+<p>"But suppose you had to go away?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked a little puzzled for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I should not like to leave Om and Su,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> and I wouldn't leave
+uncle and aunt, but sometimes&mdash;sometimes I have wondered if one couldn't
+serve God in a pleasanter place and do just as much good."</p>
+
+<p>"Are there any men converts?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Only Chi," she replied, "and I am quite sure he is an idolater at
+heart. Besides," she added, with a droll look in her eyes, "Chi is a
+gambler and is always drinking <i>samshu</i>. He had been drinking it this
+morning. I have often spoken to uncle about it, but he has not got the
+heart to send him away."</p>
+
+<p>The boy laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"I have a certain amount of sympathy with Chi," said he. "If I lived
+here I should be as bad as he is. I should think you would die of the
+heat and the smells, and never seeing anybody."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it's not so bad," she said spiritlessly. "You see, I have to work
+pretty hard. There are nearly twenty families now where there is
+sickness, and in case of anything contagious I go there and nurse.
+Sometimes I get very tired, but it keeps me occupied and so I suppose I
+don't think about&mdash;other things."</p>
+
+<p>"It's terrible to think of leaving you here," he said. "Can't you
+persuade your uncle and aunt that their duty does not require them to
+lay down their lives needlessly?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," she answered, "nothing would persuade them that it was not their
+duty to remain; nothing could persuade <i>me</i> of that."</p>
+
+<p>"And you would not leave them?" he urged, almost tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how <i>could</i> I? I must stay with them! Don't you see?" She took hold
+of his hand and held it. It was quite natural and totally unconscious.
+"That is what missionaries are for."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>A thrill traveled up the nerves of his arm and accelerated the motion of
+his heart.</p>
+
+<p>"That is not what <i>you</i> are for," he said quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"I must! I must!" she repeated. "Oh, I should like to go with you, but I
+can't."</p>
+
+<p>"But think of yourself!" he cried harshly. "Your uncle and aunt can die
+for the glory of God if they choose, but they've no right to let you
+die, too, just out of loyalty to them. It's cruel and wrong. It makes me
+sick to think of you penned up here in this nasty, yellow place all
+these years when you ought to have been going to school, and riding and
+sailing, and playing tennis, and having a good time."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" she protested.</p>
+
+<p>"No, hear me out," he insisted, "and having a good time! You can serve
+God and yet be happy, can't you? And your place isn't here in the midst
+of cholera and famine and malaria. It's different with people who have
+lived their lives, but with you, so young and fresh and pretty."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" she cried joyfully, "do you think I am pretty? I'm so glad!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do I!" he replied hotly. "Too pretty to be allowed to go wandering
+around these crooked Chinese streets&mdash;" he checked himself. "I say it's
+a shame! And now to stay here, after all, to be butchered!" He jumped to
+his feet and ground his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>She gazed at him, startled, and said reproachfully:</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think it is right for you to say things like that. 'Whoso
+loseth his life for my sake shall find it.' Don't you remember?"</p>
+
+<p>He made no reply, realizing the hopelessness of his position.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>"Come," he said, "let us go back."</p>
+
+<p>She was afraid she had offended him but was too timid to do more than to
+take his hand and let him lead her gently down the winding stairs.</p>
+
+<p>At the gate of the temple they found the crowd augmented by several
+hundred persons, who closed in behind and marched along to the compound.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. and Mrs. Newbegin were waiting on the veranda and the marines had
+been having a little <i>samshu</i>. The boy was by no means sorry to have the
+company of his escort for the rest of their walk, and the party made
+good time to the <i>Dirigo</i>. The <i>bund</i> was alive with spectators and so
+was the whole long line of shore. There were Chinese everywhere, on the
+beach, on rafts, in <i>sampans</i>, swimming in the water, all around,
+wherever you looked there were a dozen yellow faces&mdash;waiting&mdash;waiting
+for something. Even in the broil of that inland sun the chills crept up
+the boy's spine.</p>
+
+<p>The Rev. Theophilus and his wife were much pleased with the gunboat and
+sat in the cabin in the draught of the two electric fans sipping
+lemonade, while the boy showed the girl over the <i>Dirigo</i>. He had made
+one last passionate appeal to the missionary and his wife, who had again
+flatly refused to leave the city. Margaret had likewise reasserted her
+determination not to desert them. The boy was in despair and cursed them
+to himself for stupid, bigoted fools. He was showing the girl his little
+stateroom with its tiny bookcase and pictures and she had paused
+fascinated before one which showed a group of young people gathered on a
+smooth lawn with tennis rackets in their hands. All were smiling or
+laughing. Margaret could not tear herself away from it.</p>
+
+<p>"How happy they look!" she whispered. "How<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> fresh and clean and cool
+everything is! What are those things in their hands?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"The round things that look like nets," she explained.</p>
+
+<p>The boy gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Tennis rackets! Do you mean to say you've never seen a tennis racket?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think so." She hesitated. "Perhaps ever so long ago when I was
+a little girl, but I've forgotten."</p>
+
+<p>The boy's anger flamed to a white heat as he glanced out through the
+stateroom door to where the Rev. Theophilus and wife sat stolidly
+luxuriating in the artificial draught.</p>
+
+<p>"When I was a child we lived for a while in Shanghai. My father's ship
+was there," she added.</p>
+
+<p>"Your father in the navy?" cried the boy hoarsely. "What was his name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wellington," she answered. "He was a commander. He died at Hong Kong
+ten years ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Wellington! Richard Wellington? He was in my father's class at
+Annapolis!" cried the boy. Then he groaned and bit his lips. "Oh!&mdash;oh!
+it's a crime!"</p>
+
+<p>He dropped on one knee and took her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little girl!" he almost sobbed, "poor little girl! Think of it!
+Ten years! Poor child!"</p>
+
+<p>Margaret laid one hand on his head.</p>
+
+<p>"I am quite happy," she said calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Happy!" He gave a half-hysterical laugh and shook his fist at the door.
+Then he leaned over and whispered eagerly:</p>
+
+<p>"You're tired, dear. Lie down for a few minutes and rest. Do&mdash;to please
+me."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>She smiled. "To please you," she repeated, as she leaned back among the
+cushions which he placed for her, and he closed the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Your niece is going to take a little nap," he explained to the
+missionary. "Here are some prints of the new battleships. I must ask you
+to excuse me for a moment. Saki will serve dinner directly."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, certainly&mdash;of course," murmured Newbegin, recovering from
+semi-consciousness.</p>
+
+<p>The boy sprang up the hatch.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, McGaw!" he ejaculated, rushing to where his midshipman stood
+watching the swarm of <i>sampans</i> that covered the lake around the
+<i>Dirigo</i>. "Get up steam! Do you hear? Get up steam as fast as you can!
+I'm going to hike out of this!"</p>
+
+<p>"All right, sir," replied McGaw in a rather surprised tone. "We can't
+get off any too soon to please me. Did you ever see such a hole? Hello!
+What's all that?" He pointed to a highly decorated <i>sampan</i> coming
+rapidly toward them, before which the others parted of their own accord,
+making a broad line of water to the <i>Dirigo</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"By Godfrey! It's the mandarin!" cried the boy. "Where's Yen? Here you,
+Yen! Go make mucha laugh for the <i>erfu</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>The <i>sampan</i>, however, turned out not to contain the <i>erfu</i>. A small,
+fat Chinaman in the mandarin's livery stood up and bawled to Yen through
+his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"He say," translated Yen over his shoulder, "Wu no come. Viceroy soldier
+man make big fight&mdash;kill plenty&mdash;Wu finish. Allight now everybody.
+Missionary come back. Wu no make smoke, anyway. He long, long way off.
+This fella lika Melican naval officer maka<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> lil <i>kumsha</i><a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> for good
+news. <i>Kumsha</i> for maka mucha laugh."</p>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Present, gratuity.</p></div>
+
+<p>"What!" roared the boy. "Pay him! Tell him to go to hell!"</p>
+
+<p>McGaw watched the boy as he stamped up and down the deck running his
+hands through his hair and wondered if he had a touch of sun. The
+mandarin's messenger still remained in an attitude of expectancy in the
+bow of the <i>sampan</i>. Suddenly the midshipman saw his superior officer
+rush to the side of the <i>Dirigo</i> and throw a Mexican silver dollar at
+the Chinaman, who caught it with surprising dexterity.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell him," shouted the boy to Yen, "to say to the <i>erfu</i> that he could
+not find us, that we had gone away before he could deliver his message!"</p>
+
+<p>The fat Chinaman prostrated himself in the <i>sampan</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"He say allight," remarked Yen.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you believe what he said?" demanded the boy threateningly of McGaw.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," said the midshipman, "that's right enough! That old friend of
+Yen's was out here again about an hour ago, snooping around, drunk as a
+lord. He'd been loading up on <i>samshu</i> ever since he went ashore. He
+says that Wu was killed over a month ago, that his head is on a temple
+gate five hundred miles north of here, and that the smoke over there is
+caused by burning brush on the hillsides. The rebellion is all over
+until next year. It's a great note for us, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>But the boy made no reply. He was staring straight through McGaw out
+across the lake. Suddenly he stepped close to the midshipman and
+muttered quietly:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>"Say, old man, for the sake of old times, can you forget all that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," gasped McGaw, convinced that his previous suspicions had been
+correct.</p>
+
+<p>"Then forget it and get up steam!" said the boy, turning sharply on his
+heel.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="newchapter"><a name="THE_RESCUE_OF_THEOPHILUS_NEWBEGIN_VI" id="THE_RESCUE_OF_THEOPHILUS_NEWBEGIN_VI"></a>VI</h3>
+
+
+<p>The click of the anchor engine was followed by the throbbing of the
+<i>Dirigo's</i> screw, but both the Rev. Theophilus and wife supposed them to
+be the whirr of an unseen electric fan. Saki's dinner was exceptionally
+good, and there was a cold bottle of vichy for the missionary, who
+lingered a long time after the coffee to tell about the ravages of the
+cholera the year before. When at last they ascended to the deck there
+was nothing to be seen of Chang-Yuan but a glare of tile roofs on the
+distant horizon.</p>
+
+<p>"Bless me!" remarked the Rev. Theophilus, gazing stupidly at the
+coffee-colored waves about them. "What is the meaning of all this? Where
+are we going? I must go ashore. I have no time for pleasure sailing!"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not!" echoed his wife. "Kindly return at once! Why, we are
+miles from Chang-Yuan!"</p>
+
+<p>And then it was, according to McGaw, that the boy more than rose to the
+occasion and verified the prophecy of the Admiral, though under a
+somewhat different interpretation, that he would "make good," for,
+standing by Margaret's side, he saluted the missionary and with eyes
+straight to the front delivered himself of the following preposterous
+statement:</p>
+
+<p>"I exceedingly regret that my orders do not permit me to exercise the
+discretion necessary to return as you request. The Admiral commanding
+the Asiatic squadron<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> specifically directed me to proceed at once to
+this place and rescue the Rev. Theophilus Newbegin and wife. I was given
+no option in the matter. I was to <i>rescue</i> you, that is all. I received
+no instructions as to what to do in the event that you preferred not to
+be rescued, and I interpret my orders to mean that I am to rescue you
+whether you like it or not. Everything will be done for your entire
+comfort and Saki has already prepared my stateroom for Mrs. Newbegin. I
+trust that you will not blame me for obeying my orders."</p>
+
+<p>"Bless me!" stammered the Rev. Theophilus. "Dear me! I really do not
+know what to say! I am exceedingly disturbed. It seems to me like an
+unwarrantable interference&mdash;not on your part, of course, but on that of
+the Government. But," he added apologetically, "we cannot blame you for
+obeying your orders, can we, Henrietta?"</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Newbegin's ordinarily vacuous face bore a new and radiant
+expression.</p>
+
+<p>"I see the hand of Providence in this, Theophilus!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;yes!" he answered, wiping his forehead. "God moves in a mysterious
+way&mdash;in an astonishing way, I might say." He looked regretfully over his
+shoulder toward the fast-vanishing Chang-Yuan.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret slipped her hand into his and laid her head on his arm. "I am
+so glad, uncle!" she whispered. He patted her cheek.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, it is probably better this way," he sighed. "Henrietta, let
+us retire to the cabin and consider what has happened. My young friend,
+be assured we bear you no ill will for your involuntary action in this
+matter."</p>
+
+<hr class="thin" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>Four evenings later under the snapping stars of the midsummer heaven
+Margaret Wellington and Jack Russell sat side by side in two camp chairs
+on the bridge of the <i>Dirigo</i>. The gunboat was sweeping round the great
+curve of the Yang-tse above Hankow and to starboard the pagodas of
+Wu-chang rose dimly through the lights of the city. Below in the hot
+cabin sat the Rev. Theophilus and his wife reading "The Spirit of
+Missions."</p>
+
+<p>"And now," said the boy, as he drew her hand through his, "you are going
+to be happy forever and always. The world is full of wonderful things
+and nice, kind people who are trying to do good and yet have a jolly
+time while they are doing it. And you will have the dearest mother a
+girl ever had. How proud she'll be of you! Now promise to forgive me;
+you know why I did it! Do you suppose I'd have dared to do it if I
+hadn't?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she answered happily, "I knew why you did it and I forgive you,
+only, of course, it really was very wicked. But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The sentence was never finished&mdash;to the delight of the government pilot
+behind them.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think my uncle will say when we tell him?" she laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"He'll say, 'Bless me! Dear me! I don't know!'" answered the boy, and
+they both giggled hysterically.</p>
+
+<p>Abaft the black shadow of the smokestack Yen and the Shan-si man stood
+in silence watching the two on the bridge. The Shan-si man raised his
+arm once more in the direction of Wu-chang and made a joke.</p>
+
+<p>"Above is Heaven's Hall!" said he. "Below are&mdash;the two most foolish
+things in all the world&mdash;a boy and a girl!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="THE_VAGABOND" id="THE_VAGABOND"></a>THE VAGABOND</h2>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p style="margin-bottom: 0em;">"There is no essential incongruity between crime and
+culture."</p>
+
+<p style="margin-top: 0em; padding-left: 50%;">&mdash;<i>Oscar Wilde, "The Decay of Lying."</i></p></div>
+
+<p>It was five o'clock, Sunday afternoon, and the slanting sunbeams had
+crawled across the bed and up the walls and vanished somehow into the
+ceiling when Voltaire McCartney came to himself, kicked off the
+patchwork quilt, elevated his torso upon one elbow and took an
+observation out of the dingy window. The prospect of the Palisades to
+the northwest was undimmed, for the wind was blowing fresh from the sea
+and the smoke from the glucose factory on the Jersey side was making
+straight up the river in a long, black horizontal bar, behind which the
+horizon glowed in a brilliant, translucent mass of cloud. McCartney
+swung his thin legs clear of the bed and fumbled with his left hand in
+the pocket of a plaid waistcoat dangling from the iron post. The act was
+unconscious, equivalent to the automatic groping for one's slippers
+which perchance the reader's own well-regulated feet perform on similar
+occasions. The pocket in question yielded a square of white tissue,
+which the fingers deftly folded, transferred to the other hand, and then
+filled with tobacco. Like others nourished upon stimulants and
+narcotics, McCartney awoke <i>absolutely</i>, without a trace of drowsiness,
+nervously ready to do the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> next thing, whatever that might chance to be.
+His first act was to pull on his shoes, the second to slip his
+suspenders over his rather narrow shoulders, and the third to light the
+cigarette. Then he sauntered across the room to the window sill, upon
+which slept profoundly a small tortoise-shell cat, and picked up a
+pocket volume, well worn, which he shook open at a point designated by a
+safety match. For several moments he devoured the page with his eyes,
+his hollow face filled with peculiar exaltation. Then he expelled a
+cloud of smoke sucked from the glowing end of his cigarette, tossed away
+the butt, and thrust the book into his hip pocket.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0q">"O would there were a heaven to hear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O would there were a hell to fear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, welcome fire, eternal fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To burn forever and not tire!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0q">"Better Ixion's whirling wheel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still at any cost to feel!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dear Son of God, in mercy give<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My soul to flames, but&mdash;let me <i>live</i>!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>He turned away from the window, and pale against the gaudy west his
+profile shone drawn and haggard. Restlessly he filched his pocket for
+another cigarette, and tossed himself wearily into a painted rocker. The
+cat awakened, elongated herself in a prodigious and voluptuous yawn of
+her whole body, dropped to the floor and leaped with a single spring
+into her master's lap. He stroked her sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"Isabeau! My poor Isabeau! I envy you&mdash;creature perfect in symmetry,
+perfect in feeling!"</p>
+
+<p>The cat rubbed her head against the buttons of his coat. McCartney
+leaned back his head. The little room<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> was bare of ornament or of
+furniture other than the chair, save for a deal table at the foot of the
+bed, bearing a litter of newspapers and yellow pad paper.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0q">"I am discouraged by the street,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pacing of monotonous feet!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>murmured the man in the rocker. The light died out above the Palisades;
+the cat snuggled down between her master's legs.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0q">"Dear Son of God, in mercy give<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My soul to flames, but let me <i>live</i>!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>he added softly. Then he lifted the cat gently to the floor, threw on a
+short, faded reefer coat, and opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Isabeau, it's time for us to go out and earn our supper!"</p>
+
+<hr class="thin" />
+
+<p>McCartney gazed solemnly down from the small rostrum upon which he was
+standing at the end of the saloon without so much as a smile in answer
+to the roar of appreciation with which his time-worn anecdote had been
+received.</p>
+
+<p>"Dot's goot!" shouted an abdominal "Dutchman," pounding the table with
+his beer mug. "Gif us 'n odder!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ya!" exclaimed his <i>confr&egrave;re</i>. "Dot feller, he was a corker, eh?" He
+put up his hands and making a trumpet of them bawled at McCartney:
+"Here, kommen sie unt haf a glass bier mit us!"</p>
+
+<p>Three teamsters, a card sharp, a porter, two cabbies, and a dozen
+unclassables nodded their heads and stamped,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> while the bartender passed
+up a foaming stein to the performer. McCartney blew off the froth, bowed
+with easy grace to the assembled company, and drank. Then he descended
+to the table occupied by the Germans.</p>
+
+<p>"May you all have better luck than the gentleman in my story," he
+remarked. "But I for one shall go straight to the other place. Heaven
+for climate&mdash;hell for society, eh? Hoch der Kaiser!"</p>
+
+<p>The Germans threw back their heads and laughed boisterously.</p>
+
+<p>"Make that beer a sandwich, will you? Here, Bill, bring me a slice of
+cold beef and a cheese sandwich!"</p>
+
+<p>The bartender opened a small ice chest and produced the desired edibles,
+to which variation in their offered hospitality the two interposed no
+objection, being in fact somewhat in awe of their intellectual, if not
+distinguished, guest. As McCartney ate he produced a handful of
+transparent dice.</p>
+
+<p>"Ever see any dice like those?" he asked, rolling them across the wet
+table. The first German examined them with approval.</p>
+
+<p>"Dose is pooty, eh?" he remarked to his neighbor. "I trow you for die
+Schnapps, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>McCartney watched them covetously as they emptied the leathern shaker,
+solemnly counting the spots at the conclusion of each cast.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, let me show you how," volunteered their guest. "Poker hands." He
+rattled the dice and poured them forth. They came up indiscriminately.</p>
+
+<p>"Not so goot, eh?" commented the German. "I'll trow you. I'll trow
+ennyboty mit <i>clear</i> dice. Venn dey ain't loated I can trow mit
+ennyboty." He held them up to the light. "Dese is clear&mdash;goot."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>"Three times for a dollar," said McCartney.</p>
+
+<p>"So," answered the German. He threw carefully, and counted two sixes, an
+ace, a three, and a five. He left in the sixes and threw the others.
+This time he got an ace and two fives. Once more he put them back, but
+accomplished no better result.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, I'll show you," said McCartney, and emptied the shaker. The dice
+tumbled upon the table to the tune of two aces, two deuces, and a five.
+He put back the deuces and the five and threw another ace, a three, and
+a five.</p>
+
+<p>"I win," he remarked. "You don't know how!"</p>
+
+<p>"Vat's dot? Don't know how, eh!" roared the other. "I trow you for fife
+dollars, see? Gif me dose leetle dice." He threw with a heavy bang that
+shook the table. This time he got two sixes, two aces, and a five, and
+put back the latter. Securing another ace he leaned back and took a
+heavy draught of beer. "Full house! Beat dat eef you can!"</p>
+
+<p>McCartney tossed the dice carelessly upon the board for two fours, one
+ace, and two fives. To the amazement of the Germans, he left in the ace
+and returned the other four to the shaker. This time he got two more
+aces. His last throw gave him another ace and a five.</p>
+
+<p>"Zum teuffel!" growled the German, thrusting his hand into his pocket
+and drawing forth a dirty wad of bills. "Here, take your money!" He
+handed McCartney six dollars.</p>
+
+<p>"Kind sirs, good night," remarked McCartney, thrusting the bills into
+his waistcoat pocket and arising from his place. "I must betake me
+hence. Experience is the only teacher. Let me advise you never to play
+games of chance with strangers."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>The two Germans stared at him stupidly.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't understand? Permit me. You saw the dice were not loaded? Very
+good! You examined them? Very good again. Your powers of observation are
+uncultivated, merely. The stern mother of invention&mdash;that is to say
+necessity&mdash;has obeyed the law of evolution. Three of the dice in my
+pocket bear no even numbers. The information is well worth your six
+dollars. Again, good night."</p>
+
+<p>"Betr&uuml;ger!" cried the loser of the six dollars, arising heavily and
+upsetting his beer. "Dot feller skivinded us mit dice geloaded! <i>Sheet!
+Sheet!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>They blundered toward the side entrance, while McCartney side-stepped
+into an adjacent portal. Long Acre Square gleamed from end to end. Above
+him an electric display, momentarily vanishing and reappearing, heralded
+the attributes of the cigar sacred to the Scottish bard. Peering through
+the haze generated by the countless lights a few tiny stars repaid
+diligent search. A scanty number of pedestrians was abroad. The pantheon
+of delights shone silent save for an occasional clanging car. The
+Germans passed in search of an officer, excitedly jabbering about the
+"sheet," their angry expressions reverberating along the concrete,
+fading gradually into the hum of the lower town.</p>
+
+<p>Then slowly into view crept one of those anachronisms of the
+metropolis&mdash;a huge, shaggy horse slowly stalking northward, dragging a
+rickety express wagon whereon reposed a semisomnolent yokel. Hitched by
+its shafts to the tail of the wagon trailed a decrepit brougham
+(destined, probably, for country-depot service), behind this a
+debilitated Stanhope buggy, followed by a dogcart, a phaeton, a
+buckboard, with last of all a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> hoodless Victoria. This picturesquely
+mournful procession of vanished respectability staggered hesitatingly
+past our hero, who regarded it with vast amusement. To his fanciful
+imagination it appeared like the fleshless vertebr&aelig; of a sea serpent
+slowly writhing into the obscurity of the night. Occasionally one of the
+component dorsals would strike an inequality in the pavement and start
+upon a brief frolic of its own, swinging out of line at a tangent until
+hauled back into place again by the pull of the shaggy horse. Sometimes
+all started in different directions at one and the same time, and the
+semblance to a skeleton snake was heightened&mdash;even the ominous rattle
+was not wanting. The Victoria looked restful to McCartney, whose legs
+were always tired.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0q">"Why should we fret that others ride?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps dull care sits by their side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And leaves us foot-men free!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>he hummed to himself, recollecting an old college glee.</p>
+
+<p>"All the same that old bandbox looks not uncomfortable. How long is it
+since I have used a cushion! Poverty makes a poor bedfellow!"</p>
+
+<p>As the last equipage swung by, McCartney took a few steps in the same
+direction and clambered in. He had become a "foot-man" in fact, but a
+very undignified and luxurious one, who lay back with his feet crossed
+against the box in front of him. Of all the lights on Broadway none
+glowed so comfortingly for McCartney as the tip of his cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>"My prayer is answered," he remarked softly to himself. "Thus do I
+escape the 'monotonous feet.' Had I only Isabeau I should have attained
+the height of human happiness&mdash;to have dined, to smoke, to ride on
+cushions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> under the starlight, to have six dollars, and not to know
+where one is going&mdash;a plethora of gifts. So I can spare Isabeau for the
+nonce. Doubtless she would not particularly care for the delights of
+locomotion."</p>
+
+<p>Thus Voltaire sailed northward, noticed only by solitary policemen and
+lonely wayfarers. Near Eightieth Street his eye caught the burning
+circle of a clock pointing at half-past nine, and he stretched himself
+and yawned again. They were passing the vestibule of an old church which
+contrasted quaintly with the more ambitious modern architecture of the
+neighborhood. From the interior floated out the gray unison of a hymn.
+McCartney swung himself to the ground and listened while the skeleton
+rattled up the avenue.</p>
+
+<p>"Egad!" thought he, "yon prayerful folk are not troubled with my
+disorder. Hell is for them what Jersey City is for me&mdash;a vital reality."</p>
+
+<p>A woman, her head shrouded in a worn gray shawl, approached timidly and
+stationed herself near the door. McCartney could see that she was
+weeping and that she had a baby in her arms. He grumbled a bit to
+himself at this business. It did not suit his fancy&mdash;his scheme. Having
+planned a continuation of this night of comedy so auspiciously begun, he
+disliked any incongruity.</p>
+
+<p>"Broke?" he inquired without rising. The woman nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dan cleared out the flat and skipped yesterday afternoon. We've had
+nothing to eat&mdash;me and the kid&mdash;all day."</p>
+
+<p>"Let's look at your hands."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>The woman held out a thin, rough, red hand. McCartney gave it a glance
+and continued:</p>
+
+<p>"What's your kid's name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Catherine."</p>
+
+<p>McCartney gazed at her intently.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, do you think those folks in there would help you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. It's better than the Island."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't try it," advised McCartney. "They'd think you were working some
+game on 'em. Leave this graft to me."</p>
+
+<p>The woman started back, half frightened, but McCartney's smile reassured
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's yours on account." He handed her the five-dollar bill he had
+secured from the Germans. "<i>I</i> know how. <i>You</i> don't. <i>You</i> need it. <i>I</i>
+don't." He waved aside her thanks. "Now go home, and, listen to me,
+don't take Dan back&mdash;he's no good."</p>
+
+<p>The woman hurried away, and with her departure silence fell again.</p>
+
+<p>McCartney seated himself upon the curb and lit still another cigarette,
+eying the door expectantly. Once he arose and dropped a piece of silver
+into the poorbox inside the porch, listening intently to the loud rattle
+it made in falling. It was clearly the sole occupant, for no answering
+clink came in response.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0q">"Alas for the rarity<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Christian charity<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Under the sun,"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>softly murmured McCartney.</p>
+
+<p>"You will be lonely in there all by yourself, little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> one. Here's a
+brother to keep you company," said he, pushing in another.</p>
+
+<p>The hymn ceased and the congregation began to pass out. McCartney
+retired into the darkness of a corner, scrutinizing every face among the
+worshipers. Last of all came a little old man scuffling along with the
+aid of a cane. His snowy beard gave him an aspect singularly benign.
+McCartney laughed to himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Grandpapa, I trust we shall become better acquainted," he remarked
+under his breath, as he followed the old fellow down the street.</p>
+
+<hr class="thin" />
+
+<p>The loud vibrations of the bell in the deserted rooms of the floor below
+brought no immediate response, and instead of a brighter blaze of
+hospitality, the light in the hall was hurriedly extinguished. McCartney
+only pressed his thumb to the round receptacle of the bell the more
+assiduously, repeating the process at varying intervals until the light
+again illumined the door. A shadow hesitated upon the lace curtain, then
+the door itself was slowly, doubtfully opened, and the old man shuffled
+into the vestibule, peering suspiciously through the iron fretwork.
+McCartney, without going too close&mdash;he knew well the dread of human
+eyes, face to face&mdash;looked nonchalantly up and down the street,
+realizing that he must give his quarry time to regain the
+self-possession this midnight visit had shattered. After a pause the
+bolt was shot and the door opened upon its chain.</p>
+
+<p>"Was that you ringing? What do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it was I who rang. I trust you'll excuse the lateness of my call.
+It's imperative for me to see you."</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you? And what do you want to see me about?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>"My name is Blake. Blake of the <i>Daily Dial</i>. It is a personal matter."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know you. Don't know any Blake. Don't read the <i>Dial</i>. What is
+the personal matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"For God's sake, sir, let me speak with you! It's a matter of life and
+death. Don't deny me, sir. Hear me first."</p>
+
+<p>The little old man closed the door a couple of inches.</p>
+
+<p>"Want money, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Help, sir. Only a word of sympathy. I've a dying child&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you come round in the morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"It will be too late then. I implore you to listen to me for only a few
+moments. I've been waiting two hours upon the sidewalk for you to
+return, and it's too late for me to go elsewhere."</p>
+
+<p>The door opened sufficiently for the old man to thrust his face close to
+the crack and inspect his visitor from head to heels. Evidently
+McCartney's appearance and the manner of his speech had made an
+impression which was now struggling with prudence and common sense. The
+deacon, moreover, had a reputation to support. It would not do to turn
+an applicant away who might be in dire extremity&mdash;and who might go
+elsewhere and carry the tale with him.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't a bed ticket do you, eh? And come in the morning?"</p>
+
+<p>McCartney saw the vacillation in the other's mind.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, but I must see you now, if at all. To-morrow might be too
+late."</p>
+
+<p>The owner of the house closed the door, unslipped the chain and
+retreated inside the hall to the foot of the stairs, leaving the way
+free for his visitor to follow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> McCartney entered, hat in hand, and
+shut the door behind him, catching at a glance the austerity of the
+furniture and walls. To him every inch of the Brussels carpet, the
+ponderous, polished walnut hatrack, the massive blue china stand with
+its lonely umbrella and stout bamboo cane, and the heavily framed oil
+copy of St. John spoke eloquently.</p>
+
+<p>"I must ask your pardon again, sir, for disturbing you. But a man of
+your character, as you have no doubt discovered, must suffer for the
+sake of his reputation. I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>McCartney swayed and seized a yellow-plush <i>porti&egrave;re</i> for support. In a
+moment he had regained control of himself&mdash;apparently.</p>
+
+<p>"A touch of faintness. I haven't eaten since morning." He looked around
+for a chair. The old man made a show of concern.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing to eat! Dear me! Well, well! Come in and sit down. Perhaps I
+can find something."</p>
+
+<p>Deacon Andrews led the way past the stairs and swung open the door to
+the dining room. It had a musty smell, just a hint of the prison pen at
+noon time, and McCartney shuddered. The old man disappeared into the
+darkness, struck a sulphur match, a fact noted by his guest, and with
+some difficulty lighted a gas jet in a grotesquely proportioned
+chandelier. The gas, which had blazed up, he turned down to half its
+original volume.</p>
+
+<p>"There, sit down," said he, pointing to a mahogany chair shrouded in a
+ticking cover, and settled himself in another on the opposite side of a
+great desert of table. McCartney did as he was bidden, mentally
+tabulating the additional facts offered to his observation by the
+remainder of the room. There was evident the same bare<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> vastness as in
+the outer hall. Two more oils, one of mythological, the other of
+religious purport, balanced each other over the wings of a huge black
+carven sideboard. For the rest the yellow and brown wall paper repeated
+itself interminably into the shadow.</p>
+
+<p>"Feel better?" asked the deacon.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, much," answered McCartney. "I'm used to going without food. The
+body can stand suffering better than the mind&mdash;and the heart."</p>
+
+<p>"Let's try and fix up the body first," remarked the deacon, opening a
+compartment beneath the sideboard. "Here, try some of these," and he
+placed a plate of water biscuits upon the table.</p>
+
+<p>McCartney essayed more or less successfully to eat one, while the old
+man retreated into the pantry and, after a hollow ringing of water upon
+an empty sink, returned with a thick tumbler of Croton.</p>
+
+<p>"Good, eh? Nothing like plain flour food and Adam's ale! Now, what is it
+you want to say? I must be getting to bed."</p>
+
+<p>McCartney hastily swallowed the last of the biscuit and leaned forward.</p>
+
+<p>"If I could be sure my dear wife and child could have this to-night, I
+should be happy indeed. Oh, sir, poverty can be borne&mdash;but to see those
+whom we love suffer and be powerless to help them&mdash;I can hardly address
+myself to you, sir. I have never asked for charity before. I'm a
+hard-working man. I had a good position, a little home of my own, and a
+wife and child whom I loved devotedly. I care for nothing else in the
+world. Then came the chance that ended so disastrously for us. I thought
+it was the tide in my affairs, you know, that might lead on to fortune.
+My wife<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> was offered a position in a traveling company at sixteen
+dollars a week, and they agreed to take me with them as press agent at
+thirty-five&mdash;fifty dollars a week all told. Can you blame us?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't approve of play acting," said the deacon.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't think the less of my wife for that. She meant it for the best."
+McCartney's face worked and he brushed his eyes with the back of his
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, what's the use wasting time," interrupted the deacon. "How
+do I know who you are?"</p>
+
+<p>"You have only my word, sir, that is true."</p>
+
+<p>"What did you say you did for a living?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a reporter. I live by my pen, sir, and I write articles on various
+subjects for the newspapers. I have even written a very modest book. But
+the modern public has crude taste in literature," sighed McCartney.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, go on, now, and tell me about your trip or whatever it was," said
+the deacon.</p>
+
+<p>"I gave up for the time, as I said, the precarious livelihood of a space
+writer. We sublet our rooms. I spent what little money I had saved upon
+a costume for my wife, and we started out making one-night stands."</p>
+
+<p>"What was the name of your play?" inquired the deacon abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"'The two Orphans,'" replied McCartney without hesitation. "We got along
+well enough until we reached Rochester, and there the show broke
+down&mdash;went to the wall. We were stranded, without a cent, in a
+theatrical boarding house. My wife was taken down with pneumonia and
+little Cathie&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Little what?" asked the deacon.</p>
+
+<p>"Short for Catherine&mdash;caught the croup. We had nowhere to turn. I pawned
+my watch to pay our board<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> bill. We were sleeping in a single room&mdash;the
+three of us. For days I tramped the streets of Rochester looking for
+some work to do, but I was absolutely friendless and could find nothing.
+My wife got a little better, but little Catherine seemed to grow worse.
+I pawned my wife's wedding ring, all my clothes but those I have on,
+even my baby's tiny little bracelet we bought for her on her second
+birthday&mdash;O God, how I suffered! We talked it all over and decided that
+as New York was the only place where I was known, I had better return
+and earn enough money to send for them as soon as I could. The manager
+let me use his pass back to the city. I reached here three days ago, but
+I have found no work of any sort. Some of the press boys have shared
+their meals with me, but for the moment I'm penniless. Meantime my wife
+is lying sick in a strange household and my little girl may be dying!"
+McCartney sobbed brokenly. "I'm at my last gasp. I've nowhere to sleep
+to-night. No money to buy breakfast. I can't even pay for a postage
+stamp to write to them!"</p>
+
+<p>"What street did you stay in at Rochester?"</p>
+
+<p>"1421 Maple Avenue," shot back McCartney. "I wish you could see my
+little Catherine&mdash;she's such a tiny ball of sunshine. Every morning she
+used to come and wake me, and say, 'Come, daddy, come to breaf-crust!'
+She couldn't pronounce the word right&mdash;I hope she never will. She called
+the little dog I gave her a fox 'terrial' dog. Some people say children
+are all alike. If they could only see <i>her</i>&mdash;if she's still alive. Why
+<i>I</i> wouldn't give ten cents to live if I could only make sure Edith
+would have enough to get along on and give Catherine a decent education.
+I want that girl to grow up into a fine noble woman like her mother. And
+to think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> the last time I saw her she was lying in a stuffy hall bedroom
+in a third-class lodging house, her little forehead burning with fever,
+with my poor sick wife stretched beside her, fearing to move lest she
+should wake the child. She may be dead by this time, for I've had no
+work for three days, and I've been able to send them nothing&mdash;nothing!
+They may have been turned out into the streets, for the board bill was a
+week overdue when I left them. Don't you see it drives me nearly mad?
+I'm worse off a thousand times than if I stayed there with them.
+Sometimes I think there can't be any God, for if there was He'd never
+let me suffer so. And all for a little money&mdash;just because I can't pay
+the fare back to my sick wife and dying baby&mdash;my poor, sweet, little
+baby!"</p>
+
+<p>McCartney's voice broke and he buried his haggard face on his arms. For
+a moment or two neither spoke, then the deacon sighed deeply.</p>
+
+<p>"You do seem to have had hard luck," he remarked awkwardly. McCartney
+was still too overcome with emotion to reply.</p>
+
+<p>"I reckon I'll have to break my rule and help you without references. I
+don't believe in giving, as a rule, unless you know who you are giving
+to."</p>
+
+<p>He put his hand in his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"But I'll do it this time." He placed two quarters upon the table.</p>
+
+<p>"There, half a dollar'll keep you nicely for a while. Of course, there's
+no use sendin' money to Rochester. Your landlady can't turn sick folks
+into the street, and if she does they can go to the hospital&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He paused, startled by the look on McCartney's face, for the latter had
+risen like an avenging angel, white and trembling. Pointing at the two
+harmless coins, he cried:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>"Is that your answer to the appeal of a starving man? Is that all your
+religion has done for you? Is that how you obey your Lord's teachings?
+'Cup of cold water' indeed! Cold water! Cold water! That's what you've
+got instead of blood; you withered old epidermis! You miserable,
+dried-up apology for a human being!" He paused for breath, sweeping the
+room with indignant scorn.</p>
+
+<p>"I know your kind! You old Christian Shylock! You bought those chromos
+at an auction! You took that old sideboard for a debt&mdash;yes, a debt at
+eighteen per cent interest. You don't pay a cent of taxes. You sing
+psalms and bag your trousers with kneeling on the platforms at prayer
+meetings and then loan out the church's money to yourself on worthless
+securities. You're too mean to keep a cat, for the cost of her milk. You
+read a penny newspaper and take books out of a circulating library. You
+put a petticoat on these chairs so your miserly little body won't wear
+out the seats."</p>
+
+<p>The lean vagabond half shouted his anathema, the pallor of his face and
+brow darkening red from the violence of his passion. It was the very
+ecstasy of anger. Before it the little man with the white hair shrank
+into himself, diminishing into his chair, seeking moral opportunity of
+escape.</p>
+
+<p>McCartney looked at the two coins contemptuously.</p>
+
+<p>"Bah!" he exclaimed in disgust. "Half a dollar for a dying child and a
+starving woman, to say nothing of a shelterless man!" He broke into a
+mirthless laugh. "Allow me to return your generous answer to my
+application for assistance. A code of morals of my own, which doubtless
+you would not appreciate, compels me to restore what is obviously ten
+times more precious to the donor than to the recipient."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>He filliped the two coins across the table into the lap of his host, who
+still crouched furtively with his head near the table.</p>
+
+<p>"It makes me sick to look at you! Who could gaze without disgust upon
+the spectacle of an ossified creature like yourself, creeping through
+bare, deserted old age toward a grave mortgaged to the devil? Ugh! It is
+the horridest spectacle I have seen in a month."</p>
+
+<p>"You're mad!" muttered the old man with hoarse fearfulness.</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes, but not now!" retorted McCartney. "I'll hold my evening
+session for Misers a moment longer. I pity you, Lord Pinhead Penurious!
+I pity you that you should have gone through life, a small term of say
+sixty years, in such stupidity. Sixty years of grubbing, of weighing
+meat and adding figures, of watching the prices fools pay for stocks,
+and how many days of <i>life</i>? How many good deeds? Oh, marvelous lack of
+wit! What know you of real happiness? Let me introduce myself, since
+you're so blind. What do you think I am, my good old Noddy Numbskull?"</p>
+
+<p>"Crazy!" gasped the old man. "Do be quiet! Let me get you something more
+to eat."</p>
+
+<p>"A thief, at your service. Oh, don't start! I'll not carry away your
+mahogany sideboard nor your bronze chandelier. I steal only to keep
+myself in purse&mdash;to eat. You dig to add to the column of figures in your
+pass book. I walk among the gods. My brain is worth twenty gray bags
+like yours. I have thoughts and dreams in terms to you unintelligible. I
+can live more in a week than haply you have done in the course of your
+whole crawling existence. What do you know of the spirit? Behind your
+altar sits a calf of gold. You grovel before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> it and slip out at the
+bottom the shekels you drop in at the top. To you the moon will always
+be made of green cheese, that 'orbed maiden with white fire laden'! Your
+hands are callous from counting money, your brain is&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The old fellow arose. "Leave my house! Get out of here!"</p>
+
+<p>He was an absurd figure, not more than five feet high, in his black
+broadcloth suit and string tie, as he faced McCartney's blazing eyes,
+and the latter laughed at him.</p>
+
+<p>"I will fast enough. But you see I'm having a sensation&mdash;<i>living</i>. I'm
+doing good. Oh, yes, I am. If not to you, at least to myself. Do you
+think I'll ever forget little 'Cathie'? God! How I could have loved a
+real child! And I've only a cat." He laughed again. "I don't blame you
+for thinking me crazy&mdash;even you. Come, now, wasn't my picture of the
+phthisic wife and moaning child worth a place on the line&mdash;I mean,
+wasn't it good, eh? Worth more than two beggarly quarters? It gave me a
+thrill&mdash;what I need&mdash;it'll keep me alive for another twenty-four hours,
+without this." He held up a nickel-plated hypodermic syringe. It shone
+in the gaslight, and the old man started back and held out his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't shoot!" he cried in senile terror.</p>
+
+<p>"Carrion!" cried McCartney. "Why do I waste my time on you? Why? Because
+I'm in your debt. I owe you little Catherine. I shall never forget her.
+And you, you&mdash;you are her foster father! God forbid!"</p>
+
+<p>The old man sat down resignedly at the extreme side of the table.</p>
+
+<p>"By God, I pity you!" exclaimed the lean man. "Do you hear that? <i>I</i>
+pity <i>you</i>&mdash;<i>I</i>!&mdash;a wretched,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> drugged, wilted, useless bundle of nerves
+twisted into the image of a man; a chap born with a silver spoon, with
+gifts, who tossed them all into the gutter&mdash;threw 'a pearl away richer
+than all his tribe'; a miserable creature who can't live without this"
+(he pressed the needles into his wrist), "and yet I wouldn't change with
+you! I'm more of a man than you. My very wants are sweeter than any joys
+your brutish senses can ever feel.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0q">"O would there were a heaven to hear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O would there were a hell to fear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dear Son of God, in mercy give<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My soul to flames, but let me live!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"You don't know what that means! Haven't the vaguest idea. You're a
+mummy. You'll be the same ten thousand years from now. I suppose you
+think I made it up, eh?</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0q">"I am discouraged by the street,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pacing of monotonous feet.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"That's all <i>you</i> want. You couldn't understand anything else, and yet
+it's my torture, and my salvation!"</p>
+
+<p>The glow came back into McCartney's eyes and he repeated:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that picture of little Catherine was worth more than two quarters.
+It ought to have been good for twenty dollars. It's worth more than that
+to me."</p>
+
+<p>McCartney's voice had grown strong and clear.</p>
+
+<p>The old fellow looked at him sharply and changed his tone. He must get
+this madman out of his house. He must humor him.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, that's all right. Cheer up! Why, I had a little girl of my
+own once."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>McCartney pierced him through and through with swimming eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"And her memory was only worth two miserable quarters? You lie, you
+wretched old man, you lie!"</p>
+
+<p>The old fellow started back. The door banged. McCartney was gone.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="newchapter1"><a name="THE_MAN_HUNT" id="THE_MAN_HUNT"></a>THE MAN HUNT</h2>
+
+
+<h3 class="newchapter2"><a name="THE_MAN_HUNT_I" id="THE_MAN_HUNT_I"></a>I</h3>
+
+
+<p class="center smalltext"><i>Note.</i>&mdash;Action takes place about the year 1915.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston strode briskly up Fifth Avenue, conscious all about him of the
+electric pressure of War. It was six o'clock&mdash;the hour when the hard
+outlines of the tops of office buildings and the prosaic steeples of
+contemporary religion, flushed with rose, and "fretted with golden
+fire," melt with a glow of unreality into the darkening blue. Here and
+there in the eastern sky tiny points trembled elusively, and a molten
+crescent followed him along the housetops, its pale disk growing each
+instant brighter.</p>
+
+<p>Wheel traffic on the avenue, between the hours of nine and seven, had
+been suspended, and many pedestrians preferred the icy inequality of the
+street to the crowds upon the pavements. For the most part the movement
+was northward, meeting at the corners transverse streams of clerks and
+salesgirls jostling one another, arm in arm, down the side streets. Here
+and there could be seen an officer in service coat, with sword dangling
+beneath, and occasional knots of soldier boys in the uniform of the
+National Guard.</p>
+
+<p>A little lad with an air of vast importance ran just ahead of Ralston,
+unlocking the bases of the electric lights<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> and, in some mysterious way,
+turning them on. To his intense gratification he had succeeded in
+distancing his fellow across the way by half a block. Above the shuffle
+of feet could be heard the cries of the newsmen, "Extra! Extra!
+President calls for twenty new regiments! Latest extra! Twelfth to the
+front." These, clutching huge bundles of papers to their breasts, hurled
+themselves against the tide of humanity, appearing from all directions
+and sweeping down like vultures upon any individual wayfarer so
+unfortunate as to have his hand momentarily in his pocket. Their bundles
+quickly disappeared. Then they would run panting to the corners where
+the paper wagons were in waiting. It was a scene full of inspiration to
+Ralston, but it impressed him that, after all, the crowd seemed
+primarily interested in its own affairs&mdash;its business, its cold ears,
+its suppers.</p>
+
+<p>For the newspapers the war had created a fierce, insatiable public maw.
+Circulations sprang by leaps into the millions. Extras followed one
+another by minutes. For the people in the shops it meant night work and
+longer hours; for society, something new to talk about; for the
+theaters, packed houses which roared at topical songs in which "war"
+rhymed with "bore," "rations" with "nations," "company" with "bump any,"
+"foes" with "toes," "sword" with "board," and gloried in "Eddie" Foy and
+"Jo" Weber dressed as major generals. "Light Cavalry" and "Dixie" had
+superseded all other selections upon the musical programmes, and special
+rows of seats were reserved for "officers in uniform." The bars were
+jammed, traveling men sat in more thickly serried ranks than usual in
+the hotel windows, and Slosson's Billiard Parlors were lined with
+standing spectators.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> The commercial life of the city boiled over. Only
+the brokers came home early.</p>
+
+<p>As Ralston entered Madison Square he found himself entangled in a dense
+throng wedged around an improvised scaffolding, upon which was displayed
+the electric-lighted bulletin of one of the big dailies. A man in a
+yellow-and-black-striped sweater was rapidly painting with a brush upon
+a blackboard in some white liquid the latest marching orders:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"<i>Twelfth Regiment leaves via Penn. R.&nbsp;R. to-morrow <span class="smcap lowercase">7 A.M.</span></i>"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Terrible Riots in Tokio.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>R.&nbsp;W. Ralston appointed Second Assistant Secretary of the Navy.</i>"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>As he fought his way through the crush he heard his name repeated on all
+sides, and a strange exaltation took possession of him. He had a curious
+desire to call out: "Yes. I'm Ralston! The Ralston up there! I'm he!
+That one! I'm Ralston!"</p>
+
+<p>He felt like a prince suddenly called from seclusion to rule his people.
+He was going to do things which these garlic-breathing folk would spell
+out and marvel at. How often his name would flash across the square or
+play duskily upon the curtains at the theaters, linked with generals and
+"fighting" admirals. He laughed with the joy of it, that he, the
+settled-down man of the world, the hunter, the manager of estates, the
+student of literature, the lover of poetry, was going to play the
+popular hero.</p>
+
+<p>He broke through the outer ring of the crowd and made for the park. A
+huge flag draped the porch of the Fifth Avenue Hotel. The flush in the
+west had faded to a streaky white and the stars had sprung from behind
+their curtains. A white beam of light played steadily from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> tower of
+the Garden into the north. When it should swing to the south actual
+hostilities would have commenced. All the windows in the office
+buildings gleamed with activity. As he looked back he could see the man
+in the sweater erasing his name with a sponge, and his heart sank with
+momentary disappointment. Some new thing was coming over the wires hot
+with the fire of war. At the same moment he heard up the avenue the
+faint tapping of drums and the shriek of the fifes.</p>
+
+<p>A line of mounted police burst into the square. The throng in front of
+the bulletin board surged over to the park. Then with a clash of cymbals
+and a prolonged rattle from the drums a full band burst into "There'll
+be a Hot Time in the Old Town To-night." The regimental flags came into
+view. In the light of the stars, in the dying of the day, in the moment
+of his exaltation, Ralston recognized the colors of his old regiment.
+Had he chosen he might have been marching at the head of his company
+even then. The crowd, cheering, forced him to the curb and into the
+street. With brimming eyes he doffed his hat and saluted the colors.</p>
+
+<p>As he did so a sudden wild yell went up from the multitude. From one
+side of the square to the other reigned pandemonium. The very sound of
+the band was drowned in the uproar. From the top of the Flatiron
+Building a stream of rockets broke into the sky, and with a single
+movement the throng turned and gazed tensely at the Garden Tower, as the
+white shaft of light slowly swung into the south.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="newchapter"><a name="THE_MAN_HUNT_II" id="THE_MAN_HUNT_II"></a>II</h3>
+
+
+<p>The little white house on East Twenty-fifth Street was ablaze with light
+as Ralston eagerly mounted the low stoop and pressed the bell. The
+visitor knocked the slush from his overshoes, slapped the left pocket of
+his coat as if to make certain that something was still safely there,
+stepped quickly across the threshold when the butler opened the door,
+handed the man his hat, threw off his fur coat upon an ebony chair, and
+only paused, and that but for a moment, at the entrance of the
+drawing-room. He was a tall, clean-built, brisk young man, thoroughly
+American in type, with an alert face, which, if not handsome, was
+nevertheless agreeable and attractive&mdash;a man, in a word, whom one would
+not hesitate to address upon the street, provided the question was
+pertinent and the information essential.</p>
+
+<p>It was clear from his manner that he was no stranger, but to-day there
+were more women than usual at Miss Evarts's Monday afternoon, and the
+lights and chatter seemed a bit confusing to one whose mind was charged
+with the importance of a newly acquired responsibility. Miss Evarts was
+an old friend of his mother's, who, somewhat to his amused annoyance,
+took it upon herself to assume toward him a sort of sisterly attitude,
+which allowed her the privileges of relationship without prejudice to a
+certain degree of elderly sentiment. Attendance upon her selectly
+Bohemian gatherings was a duty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> which he performed when in town, with a
+regularity attributable less to a regard for Miss Evarts herself than to
+the fact that Ellen Ferguson was usually to be found there presiding
+over the tea table and ready for a brisk walk uptown afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>"Ha! There he is now!" exclaimed a middle-aged man, with iron-gray hair
+and pointed mustaches, as the newcomer parted the <i>porti&egrave;res</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The group about the warrior turned with one accord and stared, at
+present teacups, in his direction.</p>
+
+<p>"Good afternoon, ladies and soldier," said Ralston. "I am the
+torchbearer of war. Firing has begun. The searchlight on the Garden is
+leveled south&mdash;like the lance of the horseman on the tower in Irving's
+'Legend of the Arabian Astrologer.'"</p>
+
+<p>The colonel set down his cup and pulled his mustaches with a heavy
+frown. He took pains to let it be seen that he was overcome with
+conflicting emotions&mdash;that stern duty summoned him from home and dear
+ones, but that his heart was throbbing to avenge his country's honor.
+They all looked toward him as if expecting a few appropriate remarks.
+The colonel's hands trembled, the veins upon his forehead swelled, and
+he seemed about to speak. Then he did.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't say!" he remarked.</p>
+
+<p>There was a sigh of disappointment from the ladies, and in the hiatus
+which followed Miss Evarts shook hands with Ralston and introduced him
+to the others as "the newly appointed secretary, you know." Which, or
+what of, she did not disclose.</p>
+
+<p>"I always thought Ralston was cast for a topliner," continued the
+hostess, as he modestly evaded their congratulations.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>"It's about time I left the chorus," answered her guest, adapting his
+language to Miss Evarts's open predilection for the footlights.</p>
+
+<p>"Kicked your way up?" inquired, in a hoarse voice, a stout lady of stage
+traditions, who was clad in a wall-paper effect of gay brocade.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Mrs. Vokes, don't judge everybody by your own professional
+experience," remarked a young lady in brown, whose aquiline features
+were accounted "perfectly lovely" by a large suburban, theater-going
+public.</p>
+
+<p>"Come! Come!" interrupted Miss Evarts loudly. "Miss Warren, order
+yourself more humbly before your betters."</p>
+
+<p>The two popular favorites glared at one another defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, in any event, Colonel Duer, he'll soon be giving you your sealed
+orders," said Miss Evarts, thus disposing of a situation which might
+have become awkward.</p>
+
+<p>"Not unless the colonel gets a transfer. I'm steering the navy, not the
+army," laughed Ralston.</p>
+
+<p>"The man behind!" murmured Mrs. Vokes.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston bowed. "Very good, Mrs. Vokes," said he. "Yes, too far behind!"</p>
+
+<p>"The navy, of course," Miss Evarts corrected herself, letting fall a
+lump of sugar and following it with an attenuated rivulet of cream.
+"Just a drop, as usual?"</p>
+
+<p>"Did you read the President's proclamation?" asked a young girl in a
+gray picture hat. "Wasn't it splendid?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Ralston will probably write the next one," interjected another.</p>
+
+<p>"No, only correct the proof," amended the hostess.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>"And point it with 'Maxims'?" ventured the Vokes, now restored to
+complete good humor.</p>
+
+<p>"Very sweet of you, Mrs. Vokes," said Ralston, recognizing the
+artificial dove of theatrical peace.</p>
+
+<p>"You leave very soon, don't you, colonel?" asked Miss Evarts. "Is your
+kit-bag ready?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we leave by the Pennsylvania, at seven o'clock. The armory's a
+perfect bedlam. It looks as if every man in New York had collected all
+his worldly goods and chattels and dumped them on the tan bark," replied
+the colonel.</p>
+
+<p>"The confusion must be something delightful. I suppose you have plenty
+of canned peaches?" inquired the brown girl innocently. "I understand
+that they are the staple food of heroes."</p>
+
+<p>"They're certainly an indispensable stage property," admitted the
+colonel with something of an effort, recalling various evaporated
+valiants of the Cuban campaign.</p>
+
+<p>During this profound discussion Ralston's eyes had been wandering from
+group to group, and at this moment the object of their search herself
+joined the party upon the other side of the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Have another cup of tea, Ellen," urged Miss Evarts.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't, positively, Aunt Bess," responded the girl; "I must go
+presently."</p>
+
+<p>"How are things?" said the girl in brown, looking significantly at the
+colonel. "Have all your officers turned up?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ye-es," he replied. "Constructively."</p>
+
+<p>"Constructively?" persisted his inquisitor. "What a queer way to be
+present! Rather bad for an officer in a swell regiment to be dilatory,
+isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>"Every man has shown up," replied the rather nettled veteran, "except
+one, and he'll be along, all right."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, of course!" murmured the girl. "By the way, have you seen John
+Steadman? My cousin Fred, you know, is an officer in the same company,
+and he said last night at dinner that he hadn't seen him at the armory.
+Some one was mean enough to suggest that these ferocious military men
+aren't always 'warlike.'"</p>
+
+<p>"There are no tin soldiers in my regiment," answered the colonel
+severely, turning for re&euml;nforcement to Mrs. Vokes.</p>
+
+<p>Ellen Ferguson bit her lip, flashed a glance at the girl in brown and
+pulling her chinchilla boa into place departed with her nose in the air
+toward the next room. She paused for a moment to read the faded
+inscription, framed and hanging beneath an old cavalry saber on the
+opposite wall, then turning toward Ralston, raised her eyebrows
+inquiringly as if to ask how long he was going to occupy himself with
+fat old ladies and cheap actresses, and vanished. But the brown girl
+turned her guns on Ralston again before he could get away.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know you had any drag at Washington," she remarked. "Who have
+you got on your staff&mdash;a senator or just a common garden M.C.?"</p>
+
+<p>"Neither," he answered politely. "I don't know either of our senators,
+and I couldn't name a single congressman from the State."</p>
+
+<p>"And then you have been away so long," added Miss Evarts. "Why, it's
+eight months, isn't it? If you ever had any pull I should think it would
+have faded away long ago."</p>
+
+<p>"I was certainly the most surprised of all," said Ral<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>ston. "I haven't a
+blessed qualification for the job. I suppose the fact that I've just
+come from the Philippines and have seen something of the Asiatic
+Squadron may have had a little to do with it."</p>
+
+<p>"For the navy as against the army, perhaps," said the brown girl. "But
+it doesn't explain your getting an appointment in the first place. You
+must be a politician in sheep's clothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, to be perfectly frank," answered Ralston, seeing that he was in
+for it, "a year ago last September, when I was shooting out at Jackson's
+Hole, I ran across the President and saw something of him for a week or
+so. I was able to help him in a matter of no importance, and you know he
+isn't the kind that forgets anything. He's a good fellow!"</p>
+
+<p>"Just like him," commented the young lady. "Now, why didn't he give it
+to my brother George, who got nervous prostration making stump speeches
+for him at the last election?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I admit it's entirely undeserved, but I must plead guilty to being
+glad of a branch office in the White House and of a chance to be one of
+the boys in the conning tower," answered Ralston.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you're only an assistant secretary, anyway," said the girl. "I'm
+green with jealousy as it is. But aren't you sorry not to be going with
+your old company?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't!" he exclaimed. "You make me feel as if I belonged to the Home
+Guard. Honestly, I'd rather be back with the regiment, but, you see, I
+had served my five years ages before you were born. I ought to give the
+younger fellows a chance."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," said the girl. "When do you go?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>"To-morrow morning at ten. I reach Washington in time to dine at the
+White House."</p>
+
+<p>Several of the women arose and the group about the table gradually
+drifted away. The crowd was thinning out. Ralston, knowing very well
+that Ellen would be waiting for him, mumbled something to Miss Evarts
+and escaped.</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" he exclaimed, entering the other room, and seizing her hands as
+she stood with her back to the fire. "Pretty good, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should say it was!" she cried delightedly. "Why, Dick, it's the
+chance of your life. If you make good only a little bit you may get
+anywhere. It's perfectly splendid! I'm so glad!"</p>
+
+<p>Genuine pleasure shone in her eyes. Ralston's heart beat faster. Of
+course she cared for him. She must care for him. There was a tide in the
+affairs of men which, taken at the flood&mdash; He stepped closer and bent
+his head toward hers.</p>
+
+<p>"Nell&mdash;" he began.</p>
+
+<p>But she apparently was not listening, and the glad look had quickly
+given place to another. He paused, wondering at the change. Her dark
+eyes, with their Oriental, upturned corners, were half veiled and her
+high-arched brows were contracted in a frown. He drew back and pulled
+out his cigarette case.</p>
+
+<p>"Dick," she cried suddenly, "I want to tell you something! I'm sorry to
+bother you when you're so happy, and I'm so proud of you, but I'm
+terribly worried about something."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear! Dear!" laughed Ralston, striking a match and seeing that his
+opportunity had somehow vanished. "What's up? Been losing at bridge?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>She smiled faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't make fun of me," she replied. "No, I'm really bothered." She put
+her hand to her forehead and pushed back her hair. "I'm afraid one of my
+friends isn't&mdash; Oh, I don't know how to explain it!"</p>
+
+<p>A momentary suspicion flashed across his mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think I ought to go to the front?" he asked, relieved.</p>
+
+<p>She gave a little laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"You? What a goose! Of course not!"</p>
+
+<p>Ralston experienced a shock of disappointment.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dick," said she in quick, subdued tones, "I can't help speaking about
+it, and you're the best friend I've got. It's about John."</p>
+
+<p>Ralston moved uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>"John Steadman?"</p>
+
+<p>"We're old friends, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I remember."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't suppose you've seen him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not since I came back. Before that, often."</p>
+
+<p>Ellen again passed her hand wearily across her forehead and turned
+abruptly away from the fire. The action was unconscious, involuntary. He
+had never associated Ellen with Steadman.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" he asked sympathetically.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothing definite. Only he's been a little irregular of late. I
+haven't seen him for over a week. I don't think anybody has."</p>
+
+<p>"He's a captain in the Twelfth, isn't he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. O Dick! You heard what that spiteful Warren girl said about tin
+soldiers?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. Nonsense!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>"I can't help it. It's <i>Honor</i>, you know!"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean you think he mayn't turn up?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't&mdash;I won't think that."</p>
+
+<p>"But he hasn't?&mdash;and they're beginning to talk?"</p>
+
+<p>"You heard for yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, <i>that</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Some people never live down less."</p>
+
+<p>"But if he does turn up, why there's an end to it," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"But why isn't he here?" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>"How do I know? He may be on a business trip."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I thought of that," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he'll be there, all right, when the time comes."</p>
+
+<p>She began arranging her furs. One thing Ralston always admired about her
+was her care in dress. He did not know how few clothes she really had.
+She seemed always elegantly, if not luxuriously, clad.</p>
+
+<p>They strolled slowly toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said, "I'm awfully sorry you're upset. I'm sure he'll turn up
+all right. A man couldn't afford not to. Don't worry. If there was
+anything that I could do, no matter what, you know I'd be glad to do it
+for your sake, Ellen."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Dick. I know that," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, good-by," said he. "Say good night to Miss Evarts for me, will
+you? I've got to run. I'm late for dinner as it is."</p>
+
+<p>She gave him her hand and he held it for a moment. As he did so he
+looked her full in the face.</p>
+
+<p>"Ellen," said he, "tell me something. Do you care about&mdash;Steadman?"</p>
+
+<p>She turned her head slightly from him before reply<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>ing. Then she looked
+back again and answered hesitatingly:</p>
+
+<p>"I think&mdash;I care."</p>
+
+<p>As she spoke the words she withdrew her hand. Then she flushed and her
+eyes brightened.</p>
+
+<p>"Dick," she said slowly, in a voice that trembled a little, "I <i>know</i> I
+care."</p>
+
+<p>The <i>porti&egrave;res</i> fell behind him. Mechanically he put on his overcoat and
+left the house, pausing for a moment at the top of the steps. A little
+smile hovered on his lips, but his eyes were very sad.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="newchapter"><a name="THE_MAN_HUNT_III" id="THE_MAN_HUNT_III"></a>III</h3>
+
+
+<p>Ralston walked as far as the Twenty-eighth Street subway station, where
+he caught a local for Forty-second Street. Thence he hurried to
+Delmonico's. It was now seven o'clock, and already the restaurant was
+nearly full.</p>
+
+<p>"Philip, have you seen Mr. Scott?" he asked of the doorman.</p>
+
+<p>"In the palm room, Mr. Ralston," answered the servant at once. "The head
+waiter told me to say that your dinner was ready."</p>
+
+<p>Ralston checked his coat, and soon caught sight of his newly engaged
+private secretary at a small table in a corner. They shook hands, and
+Scott pointed to a pile of letters and papers beside him.</p>
+
+<p>"This stuff came while you were out. I thought I'd better bring it along
+to save time."</p>
+
+<p>"Good!" commented Ralston. "What is most of it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Eight letters of congratulation, which I listed. A long letter from
+some old lady friend of yours when you were in Exeter&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know&mdash;Mrs. Gorringe."</p>
+
+<p>"Then that power of attorney from Bee, Single &amp; Quick, that you
+expected. Oh, I don't know&mdash;a lot of circulars: 'Red Cross,' 'Special
+Relief,' 'Society for Assisting Wives and Children of Enlisted Men.'"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>"Send 'em twenty-five apiece."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Scott took out his notebook and made an entry.</p>
+
+<p>"How about that power of attorney?"</p>
+
+<p>"It seemed all right. I don't know. We never had anything just like it
+in the law school."</p>
+
+<p>Ralston burst out laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"How old are you, Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-five."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, just wait ten years, and if you ever see a legal paper that looks
+like anything but a page out of Doomsday call my attention to it, will
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's got a seal, anyway."</p>
+
+<p>"How about those antelope heads from Livingston that were being
+mounted?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wilcox telephoned they'd be shipped to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>By this time the soup had arrived, and both fell to with appetites born
+of a hard day's labor. The waiters were apparently serving "extras" with
+every course, and more than half the men at the tables were in uniform.
+Flags hung everywhere, and at each plate a <i>papier-mach&eacute;</i> cannon held
+the customary bonbons. In the extreme eastern corner the Hungarians were
+playing "Dixie," "Old Kentucky Home," "Maryland," "Star-Spangled
+Banner," "Suwanee River," "A Hot Time," and other patriotic airs, one
+after the other, the conclusion of each being marked by loud applause
+from all sides.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it great!" exclaimed Scott. "You know my governor thinks my going
+down with you is out of sight. He'd hate to have me enlist. Of course,
+I'd rather really, but in the long run I fancy there'll be more doin'
+right in Washington."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll be busy, all right," said Ralston. "Has Thompson packed all the
+trunks?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>"Sure; ages ago."</p>
+
+<p>"And did you buy the tickets?"</p>
+
+<p>Scott produced the tickets with obvious pride.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you're satisfactory so far. By the way, what are you going to do
+to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Patterson's theater party&mdash;'The Martial Maid.'"</p>
+
+<p>"And you skipped the dinner?"</p>
+
+<p>"To dine with my chief. Orders, you know. Duty before pleasure."</p>
+
+<p>"Good boy!" said Ralston. "How did you fix it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I spoke to Ellen and she managed it for me. Of course, if it was
+for you anything would go with her. Isn't she a stunner?"</p>
+
+<p>"You spoke to Ellen, did you? Well, you have a confidence born of your
+newly acquired elevation. I saw her at Miss Evarts's this afternoon. She
+didn't mention you, however."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know a fellow named Steadman?" continued Scott. "Good-looking
+chap, but a 'weak sister,' I think."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know him. Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothing. He's around with her a good deal."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I hate to see a girl like that throw herself away, that's all,"
+burst out the secretary with energy.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Steadman used to be a decent fellow enough," said Ralston,
+thinking rapidly. "Anything the matter with him that you know of?"</p>
+
+<p>"He bats an awful lot."</p>
+
+<p>"Something new?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; within six months. Uncle died and left him a lot of loose change.
+He's been blowing it in."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>"How? Of course, it's on the quiet?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes! He's at church every Sunday."</p>
+
+<p>"Yesterday?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I meant metaphorically."</p>
+
+<p>By eight o'clock dinner had been entirely served, and Scott had received
+all his instructions.</p>
+
+<p>"Guess I'll step over to the Pattersons' now for a short cigar," he
+remarked, "and pick up the crowd. See you to-morrow at eight-thirty."</p>
+
+<p>"Good night. Have a good time," called Ralston after him, as the
+youthful figure passed out. He was very fond of Scott. He wondered if
+what the boy had said about Steadman was true. A fellow could go down a
+lot in six months, or in less. Steadman had always had a weakness.
+Ralston had never liked him, though forced to be in his company on many
+occasions.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll smoke at the room," he thought, and paid his bill. "I'm going off
+to Washington, William, so I'd better settle," he remarked to the old
+waiter.</p>
+
+<p>From Delmonico's he crossed the avenue, walked north for two blocks, and
+turned into his rooms, which were situated in a small, new bachelor
+apartment house. He found everything in confusion and Thompson hard at
+work packing books.</p>
+
+<p>He shed his frock coat for a smoking jacket, and took his seat at a low
+desk with a drop light, having brought his letters with him from the
+restaurant. First he rapidly answered his notes of congratulation,
+following a set form, then hastily read the power of attorney from his
+lawyers, and signed it, after which he O.&nbsp;K.'d a pile of bills, gave
+some instructions to Thompson about his library, wrote a long letter to
+his mother, who was spending the winter in Italy, then took up the
+letter from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> "old lady in Exeter," and threw himself back into a
+chair before the fire.</p>
+
+<p>It was eighteen years since he had seen her, the woman who had kept the
+boarding house in which he had lived at school&mdash;who had mended his
+clothes, lent him small sums of money, brought him his meals when sick,
+served him for a temporary mother, lied for him when necessary, and been
+rewarded with the real affection of her young lodger. This was the first
+letter she had ever written him. In the left-hand corner of the white,
+blue-lined paper was an embossed reproduction of the State House in
+Boston, and the shaking penmanship filled every inch of space and ran
+back to the front page again.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p class="sig"><span class="smcap">Exeter</span>, March 5, 19&mdash;.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dear Richard</span></p>
+
+<p>You must forgive an old woman calling you Richard, who
+worked so hard for you when you was a boy. You must be
+quite a man by this time to be made Secretary of the
+Navy as I was told by Deacon Stillwater. I am proud of
+you, Richard, and so is everybody here, that one of my
+boys should rise so high, whom I never thought of
+except throwing apples at Mrs. Abbott's goat and
+playing baseball in the middle of the street. I was
+hoping to hear from you that you had married some
+lovely young lady in New York. Don't put it off too
+long. If you are not going to fight you would not even
+have to wait until after the war. I am glad you are
+not going to fight and yet will serve the country.
+Think how long it is since I lost my dear husband at
+Antietam&mdash;nearly fifty years. I am an old woman,
+Richard, and shall not live long. I am going to leave
+you my chest of drawers with brass handles you used to
+like&mdash;you remember you used to keep chestnuts in the
+bottom. Be a good boy. If you can spare the time from
+your duties I shall be pleased to hear from you.</p>
+
+<p class="sig1">Your old friend,</p>
+
+<p class="sig2"><span class="smcap">Sarah Gorringe</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>"Dear old soul!" he sighed, staring into the fire. "What a brute I am
+never to have written to her after all she did for me. The good woman's
+reward!"</p>
+
+<p>For nearly a half hour he sat thinking of his life at Exeter and of the
+changes time had wrought in his existence. Then he arose, carefully
+selected some writing materials, and wrote for some time without
+finishing his letter. Once he got up, crossed to the fire and studied
+for several minutes a photograph which stood on the mantel, after which
+he took a few strides around the room and returned to his task.</p>
+
+<p>Twenty minutes later he laid down his pen, and taking the pile of
+manuscript in his lap read it over carefully. The last paragraph he
+reread several times. Then he placed the whole thing in an envelope and
+addressed it&mdash;to Exeter, New Hampshire. The little clock on the mantel
+pointed to half-past nine as he took off his smoking jacket and called
+for his coat and hat. He was tired&mdash;very tired&mdash;but something made him
+restless.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to the club for a while," he said to his valet. "I'll be back
+in half an hour. Call a hansom."</p>
+
+<p>He waited with his back to the fire, still smoking.</p>
+
+<p>"Second Assistant Secretary to the Navy!" he muttered. "Not bad for
+thirty-four! . . . But what does it amount to? . . . What does anything amount
+to? . . . Who really cares? . . . It's like making the 'varsity or your senior
+society. . . . You always think there's some one&mdash;or that there may be some
+one . . ."</p>
+
+<p>"Cab's here, sir," said his man.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston gathered up the mail and started down the stairs. At the curb
+stood a hansom, the driver cloaked in a heavy waterproof. A fine rain
+had begun to fall, making the light from a nearby street lamp seem dim
+and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> uncertain. As Ralston stepped toward the lamp-post to mail his
+letters he observed a diminutive messenger boy vainly trying to decipher
+the address upon a telegram, which he was holding to the light. Ralston
+pushed the letters into the box and closed it with a slam.</p>
+
+<p>"Does Mr. Ralston live here?" asked the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Right here!" answered Ralston, holding out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Please sign."</p>
+
+<p>He scrawled an apology for a signature upon the damp page of the book
+and tore the end off the envelope. Then, like the boy, he held the
+yellow paper to the light. It bore but nine words:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Please try to find John for my sake.&mdash;E.</p></div>
+
+<p>He read the words several times and repeated them aloud, as if in doubt
+as to their meaning. "Find Steadman!" Where? Find him! How? Why? . . .</p>
+
+<p>The messenger boy had started away, whistling shrilly "Marching Through
+Georgia." Ralston wrinkled his forehead. Here was irony of Fate for you!
+She called upon him to save the honor of this man, whom he hardly knew,
+for whom he cared not a whit, whom by this time he had begun to hate, to
+save him&mdash;for her. He stood motionless in the rain, the telegram hanging
+limply from his fingers. He had not seen Steadman for nine months. Knew
+practically nothing of him except from clubroom gossip. And Ellen asked
+him to find the man for her, in the seething life of the city&mdash;find him
+in such a way that, wherever found, his honor would be safe, find him
+secretly, surely, and place him upon his feet at the head of his company
+before the next morning at seven o'clock.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> He crumpled the paper into
+his pocket and turned to the waiting driver.</p>
+
+<p>"Just drive down the avenue slowly."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>He climbed in and threw himself back upon the seat.</p>
+
+<p>"Something of a large order, my dear young lady," he muttered. "If your
+attractive friend is to be found, it must be done without publicity. It
+would be a great deal worse to find him where he ought not to be, than
+not to find him at all. There are many cycles in New York's Inferno. If
+it were not for that, my old friend Inspector Donahue could send out a
+general alarm and turn him up before daylight. But that won't&mdash;no, that
+won't do. He's got to be located on the quiet and put into shape to
+march respectably off with his company.</p>
+
+<p>"By George!" he exclaimed aloud, "only a woman would think of asking a
+chap to set out on such a wild-goose chase! But then I don't suppose she
+realizes. She thinks he's playing billiards at the club, or something
+like that, maybe!" He set his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"If she only knew!" he muttered. "Why didn't I speak a little sooner!"</p>
+
+<p>"She <i>thought</i> she cared. . . . She <i>knew</i> she cared!" he whispered to
+himself. Then he laughed rather grimly.</p>
+
+<p>And one who had happened to glance into the cab at that moment, as it
+passed a lamp, would have seen the gaunt face of a man smiling behind
+the tip of a cigar. Farther down the avenue another would have seen the
+same face without the cigar&mdash;without the smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Jerry's!" said Ralston sharply, through the manhole.</p>
+
+<p>The driver jerked the reins, wheeled his horse round abruptly, and
+started on a brisk trot through Forty-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>fourth Street. Then turning
+quickly down Sixth Avenue, he brought the hansom to a sudden stop in
+front of a restaurant whose electric lights flared valiantly into the
+rain and mist.</p>
+
+<p>There were three doors, but Ralston, without pausing, passed into the
+hostelry through the middle one. The cabman waited without orders, well
+aware that those who frequent Jerry's presumably desire the means of
+transportation therefrom. A bar ranged opposite an oyster counter gave a
+narrow passage to the dining room. At the end of the bar was a cashier's
+desk.</p>
+
+<p>The after-theater crowd had not yet arrived, it was too late for dinner
+guests, and few tables were occupied. Ralston, however, had not expected
+to find Steadman there. As he reached the desk a well-built, red-cheeked
+Irishman stepped forward.</p>
+
+<p>"How are you, Mr. Ralston? Congratulations!"</p>
+
+<p>Our friend grasped the hand of the other cordially.</p>
+
+<p>"How are you, Jerry?"</p>
+
+<p>"You're a bit of a stranger."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Something like a year. Been out looking over the Philippines."</p>
+
+<p>"Not so good as the little old place?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should say not. By the way, sit down over here a minute. I want to
+speak with you."</p>
+
+<p>Jerry led the way to the rear of the restaurant and offered Ralston a
+chair. Then he drew up across the table, while the latter put him a few
+brief questions.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's what I wanted," said Ralston, as they arose. "Yes, I
+remember now, he used to know her. I'll try it!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid it's the only tip I can give you, Mr. Ralston."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>"Thank you very much, Jerry. Remember, now. I haven't seen you&mdash;no
+matter what happens."</p>
+
+<p>"Not a word!"</p>
+
+<p>"Good night."</p>
+
+<p>"Good night, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Ralston crossed the sidewalk and sprang into the cab.</p>
+
+<p>"The Moonshine&mdash;stage," said he shortly.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="newchapter"><a name="THE_MAN_HUNT_IV" id="THE_MAN_HUNT_IV"></a>IV</h3>
+
+
+<p>The party of which Ellen Ferguson was a member did not leave Sherry's
+until a comparatively late hour, and, while she was in no mood for
+gayety, anything which could fill the hours pending news of Steadman was
+a relief. She had found pleasure in talking to Jim Scott, that
+good-natured, immature, and loyal son of old Harvard, who had hardly
+opened his mouth the entire evening save in eulogy of his new chief.
+From the time they had left the house in the omnibus to the moment she
+had been deposited at her apartments he had not ceased his p&aelig;an of
+praise. Ralston was a "corker," a "crackajack," it was a great thing to
+be going to work with a man like that&mdash;a fellow who had done things, not
+one of your sit-in-the-club-window-and-have-a-little-drink style of
+chappies (this with a significant glance at a certain Mr. Teadle who
+made one of the party), but one who could use a rifle or write a book
+with equal skill.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Teadle saw no particular reason for Ralston's appointment? Jim
+supposed sarcastically that the only proper candidate <i>would</i> have been
+an absinthe-drinking scribbler of an&aelig;mic little poems. For a short time
+it looked as if Jim were going to utilize Mr. Teadle as a mop, until
+Ellen came to the rescue by entering into a violent flirtation with the
+new secretary, who furtively wondered if she really cared for that
+Steadman fellow, after all. Miss Ferguson, on her side, like the boy
+im<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>mensely, but did not stop to analyze her reasons. His freshness and
+enthusiasm were enough to account for the attraction.</p>
+
+<p>The Moonshine Theater had suggested a ludicrous parody of Brussels on
+the eve of Waterloo, and Scott had loudly regretted that his job did not
+carry a uniform with it. There were whole rows of them in the orchestra
+and the gallery. For a finale the chorus sang the "Star-Spangled
+Banner"&mdash;all up, of course, with the whole house cheering and waving
+hats and handkerchiefs. Tears were in Ellen's eyes as the party made
+their way out of the box, along the side of the house, to the entrance
+where the omnibus was waiting. They had piled in, and then, just as they
+had started&mdash;<i>Ralston!</i></p>
+
+<p>How strange that she should cross him in this fashion at such an hour!
+Could he have received her message? Perhaps, even now, a yellow slip was
+lying beneath her door marked: "Party not found." But if not on her
+mission, what was he doing at the stage entrance of the Moonshine?</p>
+
+<p>All through the supper at Sherry's, with its martial airs, its patriotic
+ices and confections, its wine and laughter, she was tormented by
+uncertainty. If he had not received the message! Time was flying,
+Steadman was not being sought for, Ralston was&mdash;dallying.</p>
+
+<p>Her maid removed her cloak and helped her undo her dress.</p>
+
+<p>"Has anything come for me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, miss."</p>
+
+<p>"Telephone to the Western Union office and ask if my telegram was
+delivered."</p>
+
+<p>The maid disappeared, returning presently with the information that it
+had been receipted for at nine-thirty <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>o'clock. With a warm wave of
+relief flooding her heart Ellen slipped on a light wrapper, and threw
+herself into an armchair before the sea-coal fire.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a name="img4" id="img4"></a>
+<img src="images/image-4.jpg" width="500" height="392" alt="&quot;She studied the faces alternately.&quot;" title="" />
+</div>
+<p class="caption">&quot;She studied the faces alternately.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"You need not wait, Elise. I shall sit up and read."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, miss. Good night."</p>
+
+<p>"Good night," answered her mistress dreamily.</p>
+
+<p>Outside the rain swept steadily against the glass with a soft, silting
+sound. From time to time drops fell down the chimney and hissed for a
+moment ere they vanished black splotches upon the vermilion coals.
+Behind her an electric lamp of bronze, with an opaque shade, threw a dim
+light over her shoulder and lit up the masses of her loosened hair.</p>
+
+<p>Presently she arose slowly and went into an adjoining room, returning
+with a large photograph in either hand. They were framed alike. Placing
+them side by side upon the rug before her, she locked her hands across
+her knee, and studied the faces alternately. One was of a young
+man&mdash;almost a boy&mdash;with a narrow, high-bred face, dark eyes, sallow,
+with a mouth curved like a woman's. The other was Dick Ralston, taken
+about five years before, although the high cheekbones, the gaunt energy,
+the mature thoughtfulness suggested a man much older. That she cared for
+Steadman there was no doubt in her own mind. Had she refused to admit it
+definitely heretofore, the fact that he was now on the verge of social
+and moral annihilation made it no longer a matter of question. She felt
+that Steadman's honor was at this moment the most vital thing in her
+existence. He had thrown it at her feet after a long and romantic
+wooing. Had laid bare his entire past. She was convinced that he loved
+her. But at the crucial moment she had hesitated, had not responded in
+quite the way she had probably given him reason to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> expect. She had
+asked for time for reflection, and could give no adequate explanation in
+answer to his imperative "Why?" When later he had renewed his suit she
+had again forced a postponement, and he had departed, annoyed and
+perplexed.</p>
+
+<p>It was at this juncture that the money had dropped into his hands and he
+had disappeared. Where was he? On a shooting trip? He frankly admitted
+caring nothing for sport or hunting. It was not the season for travel,
+and his name was not upon the sailing lists. Her instinct told her that
+somewhere in the great city Steadman, oblivious to the call of duty, was
+living the life from which her influence had called him for a time,
+reckless of consequences, disregardful of the beckoning finger of
+opportunity. She knew also that this was his last chance.</p>
+
+<p>She realized that she could never marry Steadman disgraced, yet she felt
+now that she loved him, and that could she see him and watch him start
+for the front with his regiment, she would promise him what he had
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>She took Ralston's picture in her hand and held it to the light. It
+trembled a little. She knew she could have cared for him&mdash;but he was so
+stern, so strong, so capable. He had never treated her save as a sort of
+younger sister. She had often wondered if he cared or could care for any
+woman. With her he was always the same&mdash;kindly, sympathetic, obliging,
+thoughtful. What must he think of her, sending him forth in the dead of
+night to search the city for a man whom he scarcely knew? Her cheeks
+burned at the thought of what she had done.</p>
+
+<p>She had hardly known what she was asking when she had sent the message.
+It had been done hurriedly, as she was leaving for the Pattersons', on
+the impulse of a moment when she felt that, unless John Steadman could
+be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> found, life would cease for her to be worth living&mdash;sent in a sort
+of hysteria in which she instinctively turned to the one man in all the
+world upon whom she could call for any service she might ask. Dear old
+Dick! How tired he had looked in the rain! He might be up all night
+looking for Steadman, and then not find him! And he was to leave for
+Washington to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p>She went to the window, against which the rain drove in a fine shower,
+blurring the myriad lights below her that marched in long, straight
+lines to north, south, and east. On the Tower the searchlight still
+burned steadily. She shivered and went back to the fire. Then she laid
+one of the pictures gently against her cheek.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="newchapter"><a name="THE_MAN_HUNT_V" id="THE_MAN_HUNT_V"></a>V</h3>
+
+
+<p>The Moonshine Theater blazes its defiance into the night from a gleaming
+Broadway promontory, whose cape divides the restless human tide that
+rises to its neap every evening about eleven and falls to its ebb in the
+neighborhood of two or three in the morning. Through its arched portals
+one might drive a hansom cab, and tradition says that the feat has been
+accomplished.</p>
+
+<p>Here Mrs. Vokes, under the alias of "H&eacute;l&egrave;ne DeLacy," first minced her
+way into popularity&mdash;but that was in the days of crinoline. The youths
+who loitered about its iron-bound stage entrance are gray-headed men
+to-day, those of them who are still alive. Only old Vincent remains, as
+rugged as a granite cliff, and as impervious to persuasion, bribery, or
+anger. "I'm sorry, gents, but it's against my orders," is said as
+conclusively to-night as it was twenty years ago. He got as far as:</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, sir, but it's against&mdash;" then changed it to a wondering:
+"Bless my soul, Mr. Ralston! Is it you?" as he encountered the set face
+of our friend.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Vincent," exclaimed the latter, "you still here? What luck! You
+don't look a day older!"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say the same for you, sir. I understand congratulations are in
+order. Oh, I read the papers. But&mdash;" he hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"But you think I'm rather old for 'Johnnying'?" in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>terpolated Ralston.
+"You're quite right. I am. But don't be alarmed; this is business. I
+want to find a young woman named Ernestine Hudson. I must see her at
+once. Can you fix it for me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think so," answered the guardian of the wings. "I'd do it if I lost
+my job. I won't forget in a hurry what you did for my little Bill. Just
+step&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>At that instant the door was thrust violently open and a gray-coated
+messenger boy, carrying a large oblong box, projected himself violently
+against Vincent.</p>
+
+<p>"For Hudson!" he ejaculated shortly.</p>
+
+<p>"Put 'em on that desk," directed Vincent.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, boss, let me take 'em in," pleaded the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Who do you think you are, anyway?" inquired the doorkeeper. "Get out of
+here."</p>
+
+<p>The boy lingered, gazing wistfully down the gas-lighted passage, through
+which floated the hum of the orchestra, confused by the shuffle of feet
+and inarticulate orders.</p>
+
+<p>Vincent took a threatening step in the direction of the boy, who made a
+grimace at him and backed slowly through the door. Ralston smiled and
+looked inquiringly at the box.</p>
+
+<p>"It might serve as an introduction," he suggested with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't need it," said Vincent. "I guess you remember the way. Just
+step down the passage, and you'll find the chorus ready to go on for the
+second act. Hudson's the wheel horse for the partridges. She has a bunch
+of tail sprouts like a feather duster. What fool things the public pay
+to see nowadays! Why, they ain't content to let a girl be a girl, but
+they have to turn her into a bird, or a dress form, or a wax figger, or
+an automobile, or a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> flower. Now take this show. It's supposed to be a
+kind of a 'flag-raiser.' 'Marchin' Through Georgy' and 'Campin'
+To-night' and all that, and the chorus is <i>birds</i>. Birds! Sparrers,
+canaries, and partridges!" he grunted scornfully. "Well, good luck. See
+you later."</p>
+
+<p>Ralston walked down the passage and pushed open the skeleton canvas door
+that separated him from the wings. The curtain was down, and a small
+army of men were noisily pulling enormous flies into place by means of
+pulleys. One group in the center of the stage were erecting a "Port
+Arthur" bristling with guns, and several with wheelbarrows were bringing
+in a foreground of rocks, which others arranged with elaborate
+carelessness. Overhead hung a wilderness of ropes and drops, with
+sections of scenery suspended in mid-air. Two spiral staircases of iron
+sprang from either side and lost themselves in the tangle above.
+Ascending and descending were a perpetual stream of heterogeneous
+figures, who went up as birds and came down as village maidens, or who
+from grand dames of fashion were transformed into Quakeresses or drummer
+boys. There was loud chattering on all sides, interspersed with deep
+invectives from the coatless hustlers on the stage. Above all shrieked
+and rattled the pulleys.</p>
+
+<p>The blinding light and the clouds of dust made the scene utterly
+confusing, and for a moment Ralston hesitated vaguely. To his left a
+flock of "partridges" clustered about one of the flies, while one little
+lady partridge sat apart on a nail keg, and eased her little partridge
+foot by loosening her slipper.</p>
+
+<p>To the nearest Ralston turned and inquired for Miss Hudson. The girl
+whom he had addressed stared boldly at him, and without replying waved
+languidly toward the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> partridge on the barrel. It was evident that she
+took no interest in the friends of Miss Hudson. Ralston turned, and at
+the same moment heard a shrill cackle from the group behind him. In
+spite of himself he could feel the red coursing up to his ears. The girl
+on the barrel had entirely removed her slipper and was stretching her
+toes. She did not look up at his approach, having already minutely
+studied his make-up under the shelter of her heavily corked eyebrows, as
+he emerged from the passage.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you Miss Hudson?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the partridge, critically examining her instep.</p>
+
+<p>"My name is Ralston," he began rapidly. "I'm looking for a friend of
+mine, who must be turned up at once. It's a matter of life and death,
+and he's got to be found. I have an idea you know him."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you?" said the partridge innocently.</p>
+
+<p>"The man I refer to is John Steadman. Do you know where he is?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl slowly lifted her head and looked at him rather impudently. She
+seemed more like a large doll than a girl.</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't the pleasure of your acquaintance, Mr. Ralston, if that is
+your name, and I don't know your friend Steadman."</p>
+
+<p>There was something about her manner that convinced Ralston that she
+knew more than she admitted, but it was obvious that for purposes of her
+own she had made up her mind to treat him with the scant courtesy
+usually extended by show girls to people who are not worth while, and to
+people it is worth while to keep for a time at a distance.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm very sorry," said Ralston. "I believed that you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> were the one
+person in New York who could tell me where he was. Of course, you might
+know him under some other name."</p>
+
+<p>"Why are you so interested in finding this Mr.&mdash;Steadman?" asked the
+partridge, studiously inserting her foot in a shoe that seemed all toe.</p>
+
+<p>"Simply for his own sake."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you ever come behind for yours?" she inquired abstractedly.
+Ralston suppressed a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"See here, young lady&mdash;" he began, changing his tactics.</p>
+
+<p>"All on for the second!" shouted a big man in a Derby hat. "Here you,
+Hudson, stop fooling and get into your place! Clear the wings."</p>
+
+<p>From behind the wall of curtain came the distant crash of the contending
+chords of the overture. "Port Arthur" with its rocks was in place, the
+Japanese flag flying defiantly in a strong current of air, generated by
+a frenzied electric fan held by a "super" in the moat. The chorus
+trooped from the flies, and came tumbling down fire escapes and
+staircases.</p>
+
+<p>The partridge knocked her heels together and jumped lightly to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Peep-peep!" she said. "See you later, old man. Stage door about
+eleven-thirty."</p>
+
+<p>She nodded at him and started hopping toward the stage. The other
+partridges were forming in long lines, with much jostling of tail
+feathers and fluttering of pinions.</p>
+
+<p>"Hurry up there!" shouted the assistant "stage" in Miss Hudson's
+direction, and then turned hastily toward the opposite flies where some
+mix-up had attracted his attention.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>Ralston saw his last clew hopping away from him. A bell rang loudly, and
+the orchestra struck up the first few bars of the opening chorus. Hardly
+conscious of what he was doing Ralston strode quickly after the
+partridge and, grasping her firmly by the wings, drew her back into the
+flies.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me go!" she gasped, struggling to free herself. "Let me go! What
+are you trying to do? Do you want to get me fined?"</p>
+
+<p>"Keep quiet," whispered Ralston, "I've got to speak to you. Do you
+understand? I can't let you go on. I'll stand for any fine, and square
+you into the bargain. It's too late, anyway! The curtain's up already."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me go!" she cried, the tears starting into her eyes. "You're
+hurting me, you brute! I'll lose my job. The management don't stand for
+this kind of thing. You're a fine gentleman, <i>you</i> are! Oh, what shall I
+do?"</p>
+
+<p>Ralston's heart smote him. He knew well the hideous uncertainty which
+being out of a job means to the chorus girl, and its more hideous
+possibilities.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry," he said humbly. "I had to do it, and I promise you shall
+lose nothing by it. Now, quick, where can we talk? Not here? The manager
+would see you."</p>
+
+<p>The partridge wiped her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you promise to square the management?"</p>
+
+<p>"I certainly do&mdash;on my honor as a gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>"Then come!" Hudson darted quickly back among the scenery, and Ralston
+followed her down a flight of iron steps which led beneath the stage.
+Pipes ran in all directions, and great heaps of old flies and useless
+properties reached toward the low ceiling, between which narrow alleys
+led off into the darkness. A smell of mold and of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> paint filled the air.
+Even the scant gas jets seemed to burn with a peculiar dimness in the
+damp atmosphere.</p>
+
+<p>"Come along!" whistled the partridge.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond a pile of lumber in a sort of catacomb she stopped. A bead of gas
+showed blue against some whitewashed brickwork.</p>
+
+<p>"Turn it up," said Hudson, and Ralston did so.</p>
+
+<p>"Hungry?" she continued. "<i>I</i> could eat anything that 'didn't bite me
+first!'"</p>
+
+<p>Ralston laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Were you in that show?" he asked. "It was a good one. No, I'm not
+hungry. Suppose I were?"</p>
+
+<p>"This is our rathskeller," she laughed. "Are you thirsty?"</p>
+
+<p>Ralston admitted to a certain degree of dryness.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," he said, "I should like nothing better than a large
+schooner of dark, imported beer. What will you have?" he continued,
+carrying on the jest.</p>
+
+<p>Hudson, who had seated herself on a low seat by the wall, got up and
+struck sharply on the wooden partition with a stick.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" asked Ralston.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps some beer will come out!" remarked the partridge. "Moses was
+not the only one."</p>
+
+<p>A rattling followed, and a square opening appeared in the wall, in which
+the shaggy tow-head of a young man was visible.</p>
+
+<p>He grinned at sight of Miss Hudson.</p>
+
+<p>"How vas de shootink?" he inquired. "Does de bartridges vant more vet?
+Ha! Ha! You <i>vas</i> a bird!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ya, Fritz. Two schooners and a hot dog. Hustle 'em up."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>Fritz closed the slide which covered the opening and the partridge
+turned gayly toward Ralston.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think of that? Pretty good, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand," he replied. "Where did he come from? What is in
+there?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you. When 'Abe' Erlanger built this house there was a row of
+old tenements on the side street. Well, Jo Bimberger tore 'em down and
+built a rathskeller. While he was doing it one of the girls tipped off
+the boss carpenter to leave this place. Ain't it grand? Say, you get
+almost dead jumping around on the boards. It looks easy enough, but I
+tell you sometimes you're ready to scream."</p>
+
+<p>"Just the thing," answered our friend. "Do the management object?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a bit. 'Abe' gets a rake-off from the saloon. It's good business."</p>
+
+<p>The slide opened and two dripping glasses made their appearance. Ralston
+received them and handed one to Miss Hudson. Then Fritz passed in a
+frankfurter about the size of a policeman's night stick.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston drew half a dollar from his pocket and exchanged it for the
+sausage.</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right, keep the change," he remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"My, you must have it to throw away!" said Hudson. "Twenty-three for
+you, Fritz. Shut the slide."</p>
+
+<p>Ralston took a deep draught of the beer. He could not help smiling as he
+thought of the picture he would present could any one of his associates
+see him at the moment. What, for instance, would the President have
+said? And the Secretary of War! Underneath the stage of a theater,
+drinking beer with a chorus girl! He put down the glass and pulled
+himself together.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>"Now to business!" he exclaimed. "This is jolly good fun, but I've a
+long night in front of me, and I've got work to do in it. Where is
+Steadman?"</p>
+
+<p>The partridge looked at him inquiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean you really are trying to find anyone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly I do."</p>
+
+<p>"Steadman?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>She shrugged her shoulders. It was clear, even to Ralston, that she was
+disappointed.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't help you."</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>know</i> him?" Ralston's gaze penetrated her feathers.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But I don't know where he is&mdash;and what is more, I don't care. He's
+a cad."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, let it go at that. But I've got to find him. How long is it since
+you've seen him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Three weeks."</p>
+
+<p>"What was he up to?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the usual business. He's badly in. Let him go; he's not worth your
+while."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't say he was. But he must be turned up. Was he drinking?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" Ralston scowled.</p>
+
+<p>"He's a bad one," continued the partridge. "He began at the bottom and
+worked down."</p>
+
+<p>"You must help me to find him. Who is he running with?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know anything about him. I've heard he knows a girl named
+Florence Davenport. If you can find her she might help you."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>"Where does she live?"</p>
+
+<p>"On Forty-sixth Street," and she gave him a number.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston arose and put his hand in his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"I am very much indebted to you," he said courteously. "You won't mind
+if I make good your fine?"</p>
+
+<p>He drew out a bill and placed it in her hand. She raised her eyebrows at
+sight of its denomination.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said, "I haven't done anything for you. I don't want the
+money."</p>
+
+<p>"But your fine?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "I could have
+gone on&mdash;if I'd wanted to. I was merely bluffing. You couldn't have held
+me. You're a gentleman, and I don't want the money." She spoke quietly,
+and looked him full in the face. Ralston wavered.</p>
+
+<p>"Please don't," said the girl, and held out the bill. Ralston took it
+and returned it to his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Hudson," said he, "you have placed me under a great obligation,
+one that money cannot repay. If I can ever help you in any way let me
+know."</p>
+
+<p>The partridge got up and led the way toward the staircase. At the top
+she held out her hand and Ralston took it in his.</p>
+
+<p>"He's not worth it," she repeated. "Let him go."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Noblesse oblige</i>," he smiled, looking down at her.</p>
+
+<p>The chorus had filed off the stage and were standing on the other side.</p>
+
+<p>"Here you, Hudson! Where have you been?" whispered the manager hoarsely,
+grasping her roughly by the shoulder. "Get over there."</p>
+
+<p>"Leave me alone!" she cried sharply, shaking off his arm. Then, turning
+to Ralston:</p>
+
+<p>"Good night, sir," she said.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="newchapter"><a name="THE_MAN_HUNT_VI" id="THE_MAN_HUNT_VI"></a>VI</h3>
+
+
+<p>Outside the Moonshine Ralston found the usual congestion of cabs,
+landaus, and wagons. He had delayed to exchange a few reminiscences with
+old Vincent, and it was fully ten minutes before he could find his cabby
+in the tangle of vehicles. As he stepped into the street, to save the
+time requisite for the man to draw to the curb, an omnibus was vainly
+trying to force its way through the side street. It had paused for an
+instant in front of the stage entrance, and Ralston had caught a glimpse
+of Ellen's face inside.</p>
+
+<p>A momentary impulse had seized him to stop the coach and tell her of the
+hopelessness of the task upon which she had sent him, but in the instant
+of his uncertainty the way had cleared and they had driven on. He had
+climbed into his own hansom, little the wiser for his experience at the
+Moonshine.</p>
+
+<p>The sidewalks were jammed with the usual after-theater crowd hurrying
+either to get home as quickly as possible or to secure seats in
+restaurants which pandered less to the taste of the <i>gourmet</i> than to
+those of the <i>rou&eacute;</i>. For a solid mile on either side of Broadway
+stretched house after house of entertainment, any one of which could
+harbor a hundred Steadmans, and for a quarter of a mile on either hand
+lay twenty streets, lined with places of a character vastly more likely
+to do so. He followed the crowd slowly northward, wondering why so few
+of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> them walked in the opposite direction. Whenever he came to a
+well-known hostelry he went in and eagerly scanned the tables, but,
+although he recognized many he knew and who knew him, he found naught of
+Steadman.</p>
+
+<p>Having visited five "chophouses," a "rathskeller," two "hofbraus," and
+several more pretentious places, he abandoned the idea of trying to
+stumble upon his man, and returned to his original belief that only by
+following some sort of a clew could he succeed. Somewhere in the hot
+clasp of the city lay the miserable youth he had promised to find. For a
+moment he regretted the answer which he had just sent to Ellen's
+apartment&mdash;the four words that had pledged him to a fool's errand, the
+absurdity of which was now apparent. Then came a realizing sense of the
+importance to Ellen of his mission, and a grim determination to find
+this man wherever he might be.</p>
+
+<p>He had now reached Forty-second Street, and the crowd divided into two
+streams, one moving eastward and the other northward, a part of the
+latter to plunge beneath the Times Building into the subway, and the
+remainder to add to the already existing congestion in front of the
+Hotel Astor, Rector's, Shanley's, and the New York Theater. Longacre
+Square boiled with life&mdash;a life garish, tawdry, sensual and vulgar,
+unlike that of any other city or generation.</p>
+
+<p>The restaurants could seat no more, and a bejeweled, scented throng
+stood in the doorways and struggled for the vacant tables. The night
+hawks lining the curb peered eagerly at every passer-by to note signs of
+intoxication or indecision. Tiny newsboys thrust their bundles of papers
+against dress waistcoats and felt for loose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> watches, ready to dart into
+the throng at the first move of suspicion on the part of their victims.
+Clerks with their best girls pointed out these and made witticisms upon
+them, hoping thus to divert attention from the attractions of the
+restaurants, for whose splendors they intended later to substitute the
+more substantial, if more economical, pleasures of the dairy lunch.
+Automobiles, in which sat supercilious foreign chauffeurs, blocked the
+entrances of the pleasure palaces. Streams of country folk poured in and
+out of hotels which made a specialty of rural trade, promising to their
+patrons, in widely distributed circulars, easy access to everything
+"worth seeing." These came, were relieved of their money, and, after
+fervid correspondence on the hotel stationery, went home to poison the
+minds of their townfolk with descriptions of scenes which existed only
+in their imaginations.</p>
+
+<p>For every person on Longacre Square after midnight who is there for an
+honest purpose, there are three who are there either to do that which
+they should not do or to see that which they should not see. It is the
+white light in which the New York moth plays before he plunges into the
+withering flame. It was here Steadman had begun, and like enough he was
+not far off.</p>
+
+<p>The electric clock above the roof tops moved to a quarter before one as
+Ralston turned into Forty-sixth Street, and he looked both ways before
+springing from his hansom and dashing up the steps of the number to
+which he had been directed. After some time a mulatto maid opened the
+door and asked his business. Miss Davenport was out, she said. Ralston
+stretched the truth far enough to say that he was a friend. The girl had
+no idea where she could be found. Then Ralston also volun<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>teered that he
+was a friend of Mr. Steadman's. Still the maid remained imperturbable.
+The sight of a bill, however, led to an immediate change of demeanor.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, Miss Davenport had gone out with a gentleman&mdash;not Mr.
+Steadman&mdash;early in the evening. Did she know Mr. Steadman? Yes, she
+thought she knew Mr. Steadman&mdash;a dark gentleman. She seemed anxious to
+help Ralston, but doubtful of success.</p>
+
+<p>As was not unreasonable, Ralston was beginning to be quite disgusted at
+the position in which he found himself, a condition which was by no
+means relieved by the fact that, as he reached the bottom of the steps,
+he found himself face to face with Colonel Duer and a somewhat elderly
+lady companion. The new Assistant Secretary felt distinctly
+uncomfortable. Another man might have turned away his face, but Ralston
+looked steadily into the colonel's under the full light of the street
+lamp. Simultaneously he raised his hand to his hat, then crossed the
+sidewalk and jumped into the hansom. The cabby lifted the manhole and
+looked down the air shaft.</p>
+
+<p>"Huh?" said he. "Where'll I go now?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said Ralston.</p>
+
+<p>The cabby chuckled. He was satisfied one way quite as well as another.
+From his seat of vantage he was able to look down critically upon
+mankind in general, and had learned to distinguish "the real thing" when
+he saw it. He had no doubts as to Ralston, and no misgivings at all as
+to the latter's ability to pay and pay well, and he was as confident
+that his tip would be in accordance with the most advanced ideas of
+liberality as he was that this same fare of his was quite out of the
+ordinary. He had sized Ralston for a thoroughbred from the moment that
+he had come downstairs. For one thing he did not waste words,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> for
+another he neither looked at his watch nor inquired the price; for
+another&mdash;and you could always tell by that&mdash;he knew just what he was
+doing. Moreover, he was perfectly sober. He belonged to that small and
+distinguished body of midnight travelers who realize that they are in a
+cab and not in a hammock. Hence Ralston's admission that he did not know
+where to go to next struck upon the cabby intelligence in the light of a
+joke.</p>
+
+<p>"Huh?" said he again, removing his cigar.</p>
+
+<p>"I said I didn't know," repeated Ralston.</p>
+
+<p>"Up against it!" said cabby with divination.</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly," returned his fare with a slight laugh. "You are a man of
+perspicacity."</p>
+
+<p>"Huh?" repeated the cabby.</p>
+
+<p>"I said you were a mind reader," answered Ralston.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess I can see furder'n most," admitted cabby complacently.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston had struck a match and lit a fresh cigar. He was feeling very,
+very tired. His watch showed that there were exactly six hours left
+before the Twelfth would start&mdash;not a minute more.</p>
+
+<p>The cabby was still peering down the manhole and dropping an occasional
+sympathetic ash on Ralston's silk hat. His fare interested him&mdash;he was
+beginning to have a notion that Ralston was somebody. Maybe a big
+military gun. He had that clean, hard look those fellers have.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the fare spoke again, in an even more amiable tone than before.</p>
+
+<p>"My friend, how long have you been in this business?"</p>
+
+<p>The cabby hesitated while he made an accurate mathematical computation.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>"Five years on a percentage&mdash;ten years on my own&mdash;fifteen years, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"You know the town pretty well, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fairly well, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Is there a <i>caf&eacute;</i> somewhere a bit out of the way&mdash;something quiet, you
+know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure, across the square. Shall I drive you there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>The cabby clucked to his horse, and they wheeled about and crossed the
+White Way again. The pedestrians were thinning out. The rain had ceased,
+the clouds had parted, and the sky was sprinkled with brightly burning
+stars. Up in the Times Tower the afternoon before one of the editorial
+writers had polished up a "war-whoop" such as, he had said to himself,
+would make the Japanese emperor scratch his head. It was a half-column
+"drip" in the nature of a "Godspeed" to the first volunteer regiment to
+start for the front. He liked the Twelfth, and had been in it himself
+under Ralston. The thought had reminded him that he ought to give his
+old captain a bit of a send-off as well, and he had penned a dozen lines
+to be inserted after the other, and headed "A Wise Appointment," ending
+his short paragraph with the words: "The nation is to be sincerely
+congratulated on the wisdom of the Executive's selection."</p>
+
+<p>Twenty-five stories below, the subject of his encomium was now entering
+the side door of a shabby <i>caf&eacute;</i>, followed by his cabby. They seated
+themselves at a table in the corner of the sawdust-covered floor.</p>
+
+<p>"The situation is this," began Ralston, after the waiter had picked up
+his tip and retired. "I must, inside of six hours, turn up a man who is
+somewhere in the city. He doesn't know enough to want to be found. He
+must be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> located without outside help&mdash;quietly. The only clew I have to
+his whereabouts is that he knows a young woman named Florence Davenport.
+She lives in that house we stopped at. She has gone out with a man named
+Sullivan. I don't know the fellow, but the chances are he won't help me.
+But whether he will or not, I don't know where he is, and I must find
+him in order to find her."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at the cabby inquiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"I know him, all right," said the cabby. "A big 'harp' with a sandy
+mustache. I know her, too. I took 'em both out this very night."</p>
+
+<p>"Took them out!" exclaimed Ralston. "Why, in Heaven's name, didn't you
+say so before!" Then he remembered and laughed at the absurdity of his
+question. The fatigue of a severe day was dissipated in a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," continued the cabby, "I took 'em out just before I answered your
+call. She uses the same stable."</p>
+
+<p>"Where did they go?"</p>
+
+<p>"Proctor's."</p>
+
+<p>"Where do you suppose they are now?"</p>
+
+<p>"You can search me!" responded the cabby, now thoroughly interested.
+"The chances are about even between Shanley's and the Martin, but you
+tried Shanley's. Better hike right down to the other place."</p>
+
+<p>Ralston started swiftly to his feet, made his way to the cab, and in a
+moment more they were galloping down Broadway.</p>
+
+<p>The electric timepiece on the roofs marked four minutes past one as they
+rattled past. What people were still awake were most of them inside the
+shining windows of the restaurants, and the big porters were leaning
+sleepily against the doorposts of their hostelries. In the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> cab Ralston
+wondered what the President would say if he could see him then, chasing
+all over the town after a young woman and her male escort. He was
+dreadfully sleepy, and the cushions of the cab were so
+soft&mdash;soft&mdash;sof&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>He pulled himself together as the cab reined up sharply at the
+Twenty-sixth Street entrance of the Caf&eacute; Martin. His driver did not need
+to be told to wait, and Ralston hurriedly pushed his way through the
+revolving doors into the hot, scented air of the waiting hall. If it was
+late on Broadway, it was early enough inside the Martin.</p>
+
+<p>On the right, in a crowded <i>caf&eacute;</i>, two hundred soldier boys and
+civilians with their sweethearts sat noisily discussing broiled
+lobsters, Welsh rarebits, caviare sandwiches, and such less important
+matters as were suggested by the last news from Washington. The air
+reeked with the fumes of hot food, cigarette smoke, and steam heat. When
+the side door opened, and the draught pulled through from the main
+dining room, one caught a whiff of rice powder and violets. The chatter
+and clatter were deafening.</p>
+
+<p>To Ralston the chances seemed in favor of the other and more conspicuous
+company in the front room, so he turned back and crossed the hall. At
+the door of the main dining room he paused. At fully eighteen out of the
+twenty-five tables which were presented to his view sat an equal number
+of young women who might have qualified as Miss Florence Davenport.
+There was more room here, the music was louder, and the men had on
+either uniforms or evening dress. The confusion was even greater than in
+the <i>caf&eacute;</i>, due to the greater amount of light and music and the
+variation of color. Here and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> there at the larger tables sat groups of
+officers, indulging in pompous patriotic toasts.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston moved toward the center of the room, eagerly scanning the tables
+in search of a blond man with a light mustache, but he saw none to
+correspond with the cabby's description. Then from behind him he heard
+his name called, and he turned to be greeted by a chorus of
+congratulatory welcome from a party of his old comrades of the Twelfth,
+who crowded around him, drew him into a chair and ordered more bottles.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston protested but feebly. He was out of sorts with the whole
+miserable business.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's to you, old man!" exclaimed Peyton, one of Duer's lieutenants.
+"Boys, here's to the next Secretary of the Navy, and then, who
+knows&mdash;well, here's to Dick Ralston, the best ever&mdash;bumpers!"</p>
+
+<p>"Fellows," answered Ralston, "it's very good of you. It's very good of
+the President. I hope I'll do him credit, but the best any of us can do
+is the right way as each of us sees it at the moment&mdash;and no one knows
+where it may lead us. Here's to being on the level&mdash;here's to the right
+way and the <i>white</i> way!" He started to drink off the toast when a man's
+head and shoulders arose behind Peyton, and a thick voice cried:</p>
+
+<p>"That for mine! Th' White Way&mdash;th' Great White Way!" and he raised a
+goblet and drained it. The men in the group laughed, and the laugh was
+echoed from several of the tables. As the fellow stumbled back into his
+seat Ralston realized suddenly that he had found his man. A red face and
+a blond mustache! The elusive Sullivan at last!</p>
+
+<p>For a moment our hero chatted animatedly with his friends, while taking
+note of the position of the table at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> which the fellow sat. As yet he
+could not see whether Sullivan had a companion, for the table was in a
+recess and behind a stand of artificial palms. Then he leaned across the
+shoulder of the man next him and caught sight of a gray silk dress and a
+rose-trimmed hat. Who the lady was it was impossible for him to
+discover, as her head was completely hidden by the paper foliage toward
+which her companion was bending. They were, apparently, by no means near
+the end of their supper, so that there was time to consider the
+situation and to decide upon a course of action. But the situation
+itself was a novel one to Ralston.</p>
+
+<p>Now the mere accosting of a young lady in a public restaurant is not a
+very serious matter, even if she be accompanied by a male escort, so
+long as the matter be done decently and in order. But to suddenly burst
+upon a <i>t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te</i> couple from behind a bunch of palms, and demand
+what has been done with a young man, especially if it be nearly three in
+the morning, is somewhat different. One mistaken move, and the search
+would have to be abandoned. How was he to introduce himself to a strange
+woman and compel her to divulge information which she might have no
+intention of disclosing, and how, moreover, could this be accomplished
+in the presence of a person of the type of Mr. Sullivan? He had no claim
+on either of them. Even assuming that the bounder did not object to his
+having speech with the lady, it was unlikely that she would admit any
+intimacy with Steadman in the presence of her companion. No, he must
+speak to the girl by herself&mdash;that was clear enough. But how? Obviously,
+he could not invite her escort to step out into the next room for a few
+moments. Neither was it at all likely that she would accede to any
+request of his (carried by a waiter)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> either to speak to him or to get
+rid of her companion. Again he was, in the vernacular, "up against it"
+as his cabby had suggested on a previous occasion.</p>
+
+<p>Meantime the moments were slipping by, with Ralston trying hard to keep
+up his end of the conversation. Ten minutes more, and he had determined
+definitely that there was no course open but to trust to the girl
+herself for a solution. All he could do was to throw his hand down, face
+up, before her, and let her decide. In the event of his request being
+ignored, he must face it boldly out with both of them.</p>
+
+<p>Borrowing a pencil he wrote upon his visiting card: "Miss Davenport will
+place the writer under the greatest possible obligation by allowing him
+to speak to her privately upon a matter of the utmost importance. He is
+in civilian dress at the next table." Underneath his name he wrote:
+"Second Assistant Secretary of the Navy." Summoning the head waiter he
+instructed the latter to carry it to the lady behind the palm in such a
+manner that it should be unobserved by her companion.</p>
+
+<p>He felt instantly relieved&mdash;the relief the rider feels the moment he has
+decided to take the jump and his horse rises beneath him. He plunged
+anew into the banter going on about him. He saw, out of the corner of
+his eye, his messenger circle the room, approach the couple from the
+other side, address Mr. Sullivan, call his attention to something behind
+him, and slip the card into his companion's lap. Then the attendant
+moved on.</p>
+
+<p>Several moments passed. He began to feel that nothing had been
+accomplished when there came a crash of glass, the palm rocked, and the
+lady in some confusion sprang to her feet, shaking her dress. Her escort
+arose more slowly, cursing the nearest waiters in a comprehen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>sive
+manner. The hubbub in the restaurant ceased momentarily, but quickly
+began again as the manager and his aids hurried forward to offer their
+assistance.</p>
+
+<p>They had hard work to appease Mr. Sullivan, however. He wanted to see
+the proprietor, and insisted loudly, although irrelevantly, that he was
+an "American gentleman." The table was righted, and the head waiter
+promised that a second supper should be instantly forthcoming, but
+Sullivan remained in a state of defiance. He insisted on seeing "Monseer
+Martin"&mdash;"my fren' Monseer Martin," and called loudly for a "garsoon" to
+take him there.</p>
+
+<p>Apparently the lady herself was indignant, and was not at all averse to
+having her escort see his "fren' Monseer Martin." Then, with his head
+high in air like a red harvest moon, the rampant Sullivan made his way
+toward the main door of the dining room, followed by the apologetic and
+deprecatory head waiter.</p>
+
+<p>As the two passed out Ralston arose.</p>
+
+<p>"Going?" inquired Peyton.</p>
+
+<p>"Not very far. I'll be right back," replied our friend.</p>
+
+<p>The others watched him curiously.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment he was behind the palm, and had sunk into Sullivan's vacant
+seat.</p>
+
+<p>"How d'y do, Mr. Second Assistant Secretary of the Navy?" remarked the
+young woman nonchalantly. "Glad to know you. Rather a noisy
+introduction, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm surprised you thought it worth while," answered Ralston. "Our
+friend has probably polished off Martin by this time, and is already on
+his way back. Then he'll be ready to polish off <i>me</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you're able to take care of yourself, all right," replied the
+girl. "What is it you want?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>"I don't know that it's wise for me to tell you on this short
+acquaintance."</p>
+
+<p>"Short? Yes. I suppose it is. But, you see, I know <i>you</i>. And if I can
+help Mr. Ralston, why I <i>will</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said Ralston. The words sounded entirely <i>malapropos</i> and
+inadequate. "Tell me, then&mdash;tell me where to find John Steadman."</p>
+
+<p>Instantly the girl's whole manner changed and she drew back.</p>
+
+<p>"Steadman!" she exclaimed uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Steadman! John Steadman. I must find him <i>to-night</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"You can't!" she cried in some agitation. "You can't. I've no business
+to tell you even that, but you <i>can't</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Ralston's face settled into a grim mask.</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>will</i>!" he answered steadily. "And you're going to help me."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't, Mr. Ralston. I can't. I don't know where he is."</p>
+
+<p>Ralston's heart fell again.</p>
+
+<p>"But you can <i>help</i> me?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't. I swear I can't," she replied almost hysterically, and Ralston
+could see that she was speaking the truth.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," he said, "tell me, and I'll give you anything you ask&mdash;does
+<i>Sullivan</i> know?"</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke the girl's face turned pale under the electric light. She
+nodded her head slightly, while at the same moment a thick hand
+descended on Ralston's shoulder and a heavy, wine-laden voice growled in
+his ear:</p>
+
+<p>"Whatcher doin' in my seat?"</p>
+
+<p>Ralston sprang to his feet and shook off the hand.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>"Whatcher doin' talkin' to this lady?" inquired the other, his eyes
+blazing with anger. His voice rang loudly above the roar of
+conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Davenport is a friend of mine," replied Ralston as quietly as he
+could.</p>
+
+<p>"Frien' nothin'!" cried Sullivan. "I'll teach you to mind your own
+business." He took a step backward and began to pull off his dinner
+jacket.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't, Jim!" cried the girl. "Don't! Please! Please don't!"</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up!" snarled Sullivan. "I'll attend to you later!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a great uproar in the restaurant. At the same instant Sullivan
+led heavily at Ralston's head. Almost automatically, with every ounce of
+his body at the end of an arm trained into a steel rod, Ralston ducked
+and countered. His fist caught Sullivan squarely on the chin, and the
+man went down and backward like a duck shot on the wing. His head struck
+on a corner of the table, and he lay motionless.</p>
+
+<p>The next instant Ralston was the center of an excited, jostling crowd.
+Peyton had his arm around him and was whispering: "Get out quick, old
+man. Awfully unfortunate. Get out while there's time."</p>
+
+<p>"Some one ring for an ambulance!" shouted a civilian at a nearby table.</p>
+
+<p>"Is there a doctor here?" inquired the head waiter mechanically,
+hurrying toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston's head reeled. The President's latest appointee mixed up in a
+drunken brawl at a public hostelry! Worse than that, if possible, he
+had, perhaps, killed the only man who knew where Steadman could be
+found. It had all happened so quickly that he saw it like the scenes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> of
+a vitagraph, with little twinkles of light glinting all about. Then a
+girl's voice whispered in his ear:</p>
+
+<p>"Get away! You mustn't be mixed up in this. Get away while you can!"</p>
+
+<p>Somebody began to fling water in Sullivan's face and to rip off his
+collar. The crowd forced itself almost upon the prostrate man. "Get
+away," he heard Peyton repeating. "Don't be a fool! Think of the
+Administration!"</p>
+
+<p>Men were climbing upon tables to see what was going on. There was a
+deafening hubbub from the main hall, into which the crowd from the other
+room was pouring. Ralston was thinking as quickly as he could. He saw
+his whole public career shattered by a single blow. He saw Ellen's
+anxious face and heard her words: "Please find Steadman." He ground his
+teeth. The only clew to Steadman lay like a log before him, struck down
+by his own hand.</p>
+
+<p>Some one in the back of the room shouted: "Send for the police&mdash;a man
+has been shot!" and he heard the silly cry repeated in the outer
+corridor. Less than half a minute had passed, but to Ralston it had
+already seemed twenty, when he decided upon the only course Fate had
+left open to him.</p>
+
+<p>How he managed to do it he never really knew. Afterwards it appeared
+absurdly impossible, but Peyton said that at the time it seemed
+reasonable enough. There had been a moment when, in the confusion, the
+crowd had blocked its own efforts to get closer, a moment when no one
+apparently had known what to do, a moment which Ralston, in his
+businesslike and rather autocratic fashion, had turned to his own
+advantage.</p>
+
+<p>A hurried whisper to Peyton, and with the help of one of their brother
+officers they had raised Sullivan from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> floor and, followed by the
+girl, had carried him to the Fifth Avenue entrance. "Keep back the
+crowd!" Peyton had cried to the head waiter. "We must give this man
+air," and in a moment more they had staggered with Sullivan's limp form
+to the ever-ready hansom, which had wheeled quickly to their assistance,
+and shoved him in.</p>
+
+<p>In another moment there had appeared around the corner of the building a
+throng of men and women in evening dress, among whom were mingled
+waiters, pedestrians, and cabmen.</p>
+
+<p>"To the hospital!" cried Ralston, and pushing in the girl, sprang after
+her himself. The cabman cut furiously at his horse, the bystanders
+parted, and the hansom leaped forward like a chariot in a Roman
+amphitheater, with Ralston, who had snatched the reins from above his
+head, guiding the excited animal down Fifth Avenue.</p>
+
+<p>A policeman made an ineffectual attempt to stop them at Twenty-third
+Street, but quickly stepped aside to avoid being run down.</p>
+
+<p>"Hully gee!" shouted the cabman inconsequently, "Hully gee!" while the
+girl, staring abstractedly at the motionless face beside her, murmured
+excitedly, "A clean get-away! A clean get-away!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="newchapter"><a name="THE_MAN_HUNT_VII" id="THE_MAN_HUNT_VII"></a>VII</h3>
+
+
+<p>They turned west at Eighth Street and crossed Sixth Avenue at a slow
+trot. Ralston had surrendered the reins to the driver and was now
+racking his brains for a solution of his extraordinary and sensational
+predicament. The girl had taken Sullivan's motionless head into her lap.</p>
+
+<p>"Where to, sir?" inquired the cabby through the manhole.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," answered Ralston. "Lose us if you can, that's all. Lose
+us so we won't be able to find our own way back."</p>
+
+<p>They continued west, following narrow, dimly lit streets, under the
+shadow of high warehouses. Sullivan had given as yet no sign of life and
+the girl had not spoken since Twenty-third Street. The strain of the
+situation began to tell.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what are we going to do now?" inquired Ralston with an attempt at
+jocularity. The girl did not reply, and as he heard her sobbing softly a
+pang of remorse touched him. What business had he to force this young
+woman into being an accessory after the fact in what might be heralded
+as a crime?</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Davenport," he said, "I'm awfully sorry to have dragged you into
+this. Indeed, I am. Let me drive you home. I'll look after Sullivan, and
+if necessary take him to a hospital."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>"And leave you to stick this out by yourself? Not on your life!" she
+replied. "It's a bad mix-up, but we've got to pull it off somehow. But
+first we've got to do something for Jim. Look, there's a drug store over
+there and a night light."</p>
+
+<p>"But that won't do," expostulated Ralston. "We never could explain to
+the officer on post. We'll have to go somewhere else. You know about
+these things. Where?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes&mdash;I know."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, quickly!"</p>
+
+<p>The cabman was peering down through the manhole.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know Commerce Street?" asked the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure I do," said the cabby.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, go to No. 589."</p>
+
+<p>The cabman jerked around his horse. They were in Greenwich Village now,
+and not far from the old New York Central freight depot. Trim little
+brick houses with white portals and tiny eves lined the streets. Slender
+lanes led away into black distances. The night was silent save for the
+rush and roar of the elevated and the clack of their own horse's hoofs.
+Not a window was agleam. In this respectable neighborhood folks went to
+bed betimes, and got up early.</p>
+
+<p>The cool night air soothed Ralston's nerves, but with it he felt limp
+and tired. The excitement at the restaurant, the wild dash down Fifth
+Avenue, the presence with them of a man who might perhaps be dead, the
+fear of pursuit, the extraordinary situation in which he, a man of so
+much recent prominence, found himself, the strange way in which this
+girl had become a partner in his fortunes, dazed and bewildered him.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>"He can't be dead," muttered Ralston. "He can't be dead!"</p>
+
+<p>The cab turned into a little street lined with irregularly shaped
+houses. A few gnarled and distorted trees, whose trunks burst out of the
+concrete pavement, raised their dust-laden branches, prehensile and
+unnatural, into the starlight. A hundred feet from where the street
+began it turned sharply to the left, forming a right angle, and
+debouched again into another thoroughfare. Had one of the ends of it
+been closed it would have formed a natural <i>cul-de-sac</i>&mdash;an appendix to
+one of the great canals of the city. And with curious impropriety the
+city fathers had named this "accidental" Commerce Street, leaving it to
+the imagination as to what sort of commerce had been intended. A rickety
+gas lamp leaned dangerously toward a flight of high wooden steps in the
+angle of the street. Strangely enough, when the street turned the house
+turned, too, so that half its front faced north and half east. The
+natural inference was that the inside of the house was shaped like a
+piece of pie, with its partially bitten point abutting on the corner.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston took charge of Sullivan and the girl sprang down and stepped
+into the area. Somewhere at a great distance a bell rang once, and then,
+more faintly, a second time. They waited in silence. On the main
+thoroughfare beyond the gnarled trees a policeman slowly sauntered
+across the street. At the top of one of the opposite houses a window was
+raised cautiously and voices could be heard whispering. Again the bell
+jangled loosely in the distance, then came the sound of iron bars
+rattling and bolts being shot back. A grating creaked rustily.</p>
+
+<p>"It's me&mdash;Floss. Let me in."</p>
+
+<p>The girl ran back to the cab and a match flared in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> grating. Ralston
+thought he saw a wrinkled face behind the light.</p>
+
+<p>"All right. Bring him in," said the girl.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston and the cabman lifted the lank form of Sullivan to the sidewalk
+and half carried, half dragged him into the area. At their feet lay a
+small flight of steps upon which played a feeble light from the inside.
+Down this they pulled the victim of Ralston's strange quest. A passage
+opened before them, in the middle of which stood a tiny, wrinkled Jewish
+woman, who watched them with snapping, restless eyes, like those of a
+blackbird.</p>
+
+<p>The girl pushed by them and, taking the candle from the woman, opened a
+door leading to the right. The air was close and unwholesome. A bed with
+only a mattress covering the springs stood in the corner, and upon this
+Ralston and the cabman placed the still unconscious form of Mr.
+Sullivan.</p>
+
+<p>"That'll do for the present," said the girl. "Now you" (addressing the
+cabman) "wait outside. If the cop asks what you are doin', you're
+waiting for a fare in another house, see?"</p>
+
+<p>The cabman retired, and the Jewish woman lit a kerosene lamp. The girl
+disappeared and returned with a wet sponge and a bottle of ammonia. She
+now opened Sullivan's shirt and sponged his face with perfect
+confidence. Then she poured some ammonia upon the sponge and applied it
+to his nostrils. Ralston, leaning over the bed, coughed in spite of
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>Sullivan opened his eyes a little; the girl removed the sponge and put
+her head close to his face.</p>
+
+<p>"He's breathing&mdash;he'll come round all right," she said. "He stays 'out'
+an awful long time."</p>
+
+<p>She gave him the ammonia again and the patient<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> gasped audibly. Ralston
+heaved a great sigh of relief. Although he had known himself to be
+absolutely in the right he was aware that this body-snatching was, to
+say the least, irregular. Had the fellow died it would have made a nasty
+story for the papers. He sank back on a horsehair rocking chair and the
+room grew black with little pricking stars. The next moment he felt the
+sponge thrust in his face.</p>
+
+<p>"You're almost out yourself, Mr. Ralston. I'll have a cup of coffee
+ready for you in a minute. Lie down on the sofa."</p>
+
+<p>Ralston indeed felt sick and faint, the lids of his eyes seemed like
+lead, pulled down by invisible but powerful strings. The man was not
+dead! But Steadman&mdash;he'd think of Steadman in a moment, after he had
+rested his eyes a little&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>He leaned back his head&mdash;and slept. A light touch on his forehead
+awakened him half an hour later, and he opened his eyes upon a strange
+picture. The room was stuffy and warm as ever. The lamp cast but an
+uncertain light on the walls, which, he noticed, were quite bare of
+ornament. Over the windows were heavy wooden shutters, bolted on the
+inside. On the bed lay Sullivan, breathing heavily. The floor was
+covered by a dirty rag carpet, and the only articles of furniture
+besides the bed itself were a horsehair-covered lounge, a small table,
+and two horsehair-covered chairs, and in the midst of these uncouth
+surroundings stood a girl in shimmering evening dress, her white
+shoulders shining in the lamplight, offering him a cup of hot and
+fragrant coffee.</p>
+
+<p>"You're a brick," said Ralston feebly.</p>
+
+<p>The girl smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Kind of funny, ain't it? To think of you and me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> and him"&mdash;she pointed
+over her shoulder&mdash;"being here. What a rumpus the police'll make when
+they can't find him at any hospital. It's a queer mix-up, now, ain't
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should say it <i>was</i>!" echoed Ralston. He gulped down the coffee. "Do
+you live here?" he asked, sweeping the room again with his eyes. The
+girl smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Not generally," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"But this house&mdash;whose is it?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl shrugged her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"They've never been able to find out at the tax office," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"You're a good girl," said Ralston inconsequently.</p>
+
+<p>The smile on the girl's face changed. She started to speak. Then she
+closed her eyes and covered them with her hands.</p>
+
+<p>The figure in the bed gave vent to a long-drawn-out snort and tossed
+heavily. The girl dabbed her eyes with her wrists and turned with an
+anxious look.</p>
+
+<p>"He's waking up," she whispered. "He'll be crazy when he sees you here."</p>
+
+<p>"But I brought him here," said Ralston, "and it was his own fault.
+Besides, he is going to find Steadman for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Find Steadman for you?" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, certainly! Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked at him in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"And that's why you carried him off?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;naturally&mdash;of course. What did you think?"</p>
+
+<p>She gave a low laugh and clapped her hands softly together.</p>
+
+<p>"And I thought all along it was just to get yourself out of the mess you
+were in&mdash;to avoid the publicity and all. I didn't see your game. I
+thought it was all up for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> you&mdash;and the best you could do was to get out
+of having to go to court! But they can't count you out, can they? My,
+you <i>have</i> got a nerve!" she finished enthusiastically.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"I assure you it wasn't as clearly thought out as all that. It was like
+clutching at whatever was left. Sullivan's my only clew. How can I force
+a statement from this fellow? What has he done? What hold can I get on
+him?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked at him half frightened yet full of admiration.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't try it, Mr. Ralston," she whispered. "Give it up. You can't do
+it. It's too late. Besides, Sullivan's a dangerous man&mdash;a man who stands
+in with all the politicians&mdash;a bad fellow to threaten. He's done things
+enough, God knows, to send him to jail a dozen times&mdash;but leave him
+alone! You've done enough for Steadman. If you try to monkey with
+Sullivan <i>anything</i> might happen to you. You mightn't leave this house
+alive. Get away before it's too late. You're probably due in Washington
+about now. This night's work will blow over, and Steadman isn't worth
+the powder to blow his brains out." She clasped her hands with a gesture
+of entreaty.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Ralston. "I've begun, and I must finish the job. I mightn't
+have gone into it if I had known what it was going to cost, but it's too
+late to back out now. Besides, I've nothing to lose. I'm done for. This
+'Martin' business would kill the Administration if I didn't resign. In
+fact, the public need never know that I have accepted. Fancy! The police
+looking for the Second Assistant Secretary of the Navy as a fugitive
+from justice! Why, the papers will be full of it. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> that doesn't help
+me with Steadman. I've got to force this fellow here to give up. Tell me
+something to use as a lever."</p>
+
+<p>The man on the bed groaned loudly and elevated one knee high in the air.
+The girl hesitated, evidently torn between various conflicting claims of
+loyalty.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell him," she whispered after a moment&mdash;"tell him you know all about
+Shackleton and the Mercantile bonds. If that isn't enough, say you'll
+hand him over for the Masterson deal&mdash;that'll fetch him, but be careful
+and don't get him angry. He may not know where Steadman is, after all.
+But I heard him say that the gang had almost finished trimming Steadman
+and were going to finish him up to-night&mdash;at cards I think. They've
+gotten almost every cent he has already&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Sullivan gave a harsh cough and arose to a sitting position.</p>
+
+<p>"Shackleton&mdash;Mercantile bonds&mdash;Masterson deal," murmured Ralston to
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Huh! That you, Floss?" grunted Sullivan. "What are we doin' here?
+Where's the old woman?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sh-h! It's all right, Jim," said the girl. "We made a clean get-away.
+You came near running in the lot of us."</p>
+
+<p>"Whatcher talking about?" mumbled Sullivan. "'Bout 'getaways'?" Then he
+caught sight of Ralston. "Who's this feller?"</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Mr. Sullivan, I'm a friend of yours," said Ralston quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Sullivan looked fixedly at him for a moment without speaking.</p>
+
+<p>"I've seen you before," he muttered. "Somewheres."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," said Ralston with a laugh. "You tried to do me up at 'The
+Martin' not over an hour ago."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>Sullivan glared at him.</p>
+
+<p>"You that feller?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am."</p>
+
+<p>"Whatcher doin' here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Same thing I was going to do at 'The Martin' if you'd given me the
+chance&mdash;have a talk with you."</p>
+
+<p>Sullivan looked puzzled and rubbed the back of his head. He had none of
+the resplendency of his earlier appearance.</p>
+
+<p>"Must ha' fallen an' hit my head," said he in an explanatory manner.
+"Say, did anyone <i>club</i> me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Ralston. "But you got a pretty rough deal."</p>
+
+<p>"Say," repeated Sullivan, "how'd you come to bring me to the old
+woman's?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had to take you somewhere," said Ralston. There was a pause of
+several seconds, during which Sullivan endeavored to readjust himself.</p>
+
+<p>"What's yer name?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Sackett," said Ralston.</p>
+
+<p>"Sackett," repeated Sullivan. "I don't know Sackett. What's yer
+business?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm a detective," answered Ralston lightly.</p>
+
+<p>Sullivan started and clutched at the mattress.</p>
+
+<p>"Detective!" he muttered. "What d'yer want?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want anything," said Ralston. "I know quite a lot about you,
+Mr. Sullivan, but it stays where it is. All I want is a little help."</p>
+
+<p>"You go to hell!" growled Sullivan.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;no!" replied Ralston. "Not yet. I want you to tell me where I can
+find Steadman. You see, his folks are anxious, and it's worth quite a
+little to me to locate him. It needn't interfere with any of your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>
+plans. Besides, I imagine you're about through with him, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>The color returned to Sullivan's face and he snarled angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"None of that to me, see? I am on to you, understand? You'd better get
+out of here, while you're still able."</p>
+
+<p>The girl, who had remained silent, now spoke again:</p>
+
+<p>"Be careful, Jim; this man can make trouble for us."</p>
+
+<p>Sullivan looked sharply at her, but evidently nothing about her
+appearance or speech excited his suspicions.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Sullivan," continued Ralston from his seat in the horsehair rocker,
+"I don't mean you any harm. In fact, I can do you a good turn now and
+then if you'll help me out. All I want is my coin for turning up this
+chap Steadman. I know he's no good. He's anybody's money. He's nothing
+to me. But it's all in my day's work. Now, don't think me disagreeable.
+I want Steadman, you want&mdash;well, you don't want certain little incidents
+of your career to get to the ears of the district attorney&mdash;the
+Shackleton bonds, for example. Now, don't be alarmed. I haven't the
+slightest intention of giving you away, but, come now, let's be on the
+level with each other."</p>
+
+<p>Sullivan cast an evil look at him.</p>
+
+<p>"You think you've got something on me, eh? Prove it! What bonds did you
+say?"</p>
+
+<p>Ralston saw that he had nearly made a slip.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite right," said he. "I said Shackleton bonds&mdash;I was <i>thinking</i> of
+Shackleton. Of course I meant the Mercantile bonds. But if you have any
+doubt about my sincerity I might go into the Masterson matter&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But Sullivan was on his feet, his eyes staring, and his face as pale as
+it had been on the floor of "The Martin."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>"For Heaven's sake!" he implored.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston rose.</p>
+
+<p>"Come! Come! Is it a bargain? You help me and I help you. Where is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go with you," muttered Sullivan. "Where's my coat?" He looked
+around anxiously. There was no doubt as to the effectiveness of the
+reference to the Masterson case.</p>
+
+<p>"Get me a coat," he ordered of the girl. Florence Davenport left the
+room, leaving the two men facing one another&mdash;the criminal and the
+gentleman. It would have been hard to say which looked the more haggard.
+The light of the dim lamp made the rings around Ralston's eyes look like
+huge horn-rimmed spectacles, and his mouth was drawn to a thin line.
+Inside his head was beginning to sing and the corners of his lids to
+twitch. He knew the symptoms. He was beginning to "fade out." But he was
+getting warm now and he paid no heed to himself.</p>
+
+<p>The girl returned, bringing in her arms a pile of new silk-lined black
+overcoats. Ralston remembered the incident afterwards, but at the time
+it did not impress him. It is doubtful whether he knew definitely the
+meaning of the term&mdash;"a fence."</p>
+
+<p>Mechanically he selected a coat to fit him and Sullivan did the same.
+The Davenport girl put on the smallest.</p>
+
+<p>"Gimme a hat," said Sullivan.</p>
+
+<p>Again the girl departed and presently returned with an odd collection of
+old felt hats of various styles. Now, fully arrayed, Sullivan felt his
+way gingerly to the door. A pale gleam filtered through the grating. The
+bolt was shot back and Ralston found himself in the fresh morning air.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>A white, misty light filled the sky like a diaphanous, pulsating sheet.
+If you looked for it it was gone, but as you watched the opposite houses
+you knew it to be there. Night was struggling with the day, and the
+cohorts of darkness were barely in the ascendant. The tang of the breeze
+told the story, filtering in from the river. But the lamps showed
+brighter than ever. On his box the cabman slumbered, while his steed did
+likewise in cabhorse fashion.</p>
+
+<p>Sullivan reached up and shook the man roughly. Across the end of the
+street heavy vans were making their way eastward, filling the little
+niche in which they stood with a deafening clatter.</p>
+
+<p>"Drive up Broadway," ordered Sullivan.</p>
+
+<p>The cabman removed his hat, ran his finger around the sweatband and
+replaced it on his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Hully gee!" he repeated reminiscently. Several yanks were required to
+hoist the horse into a position appropriate to locomotion, and when
+action was achieved the animal started as if walking on eggs. Sullivan
+and Ralston took Miss Davenport in her black overcoat between them.
+Ralston could not tell whether the sky above was white or blue.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly they dragged out into Barrow Street and turned into Green Street.
+Once or twice they passed a lonely pedestrian or a stray policeman. Soon
+they saw the lights of the elevated structure at Jefferson Market and
+caught the moving windows of the trains. A line of truck wagons was
+moving slowly southward, the drivers sleeping, unmindful of their route.
+Milk wagons jangling from Hudson Avenue added a livelier note. There was
+a smell of morning everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Ralston knew he saw white and not blue<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> above the housetops.
+The thought filled him with a nervous anxiety to lose no time, and he
+pushed up the manhole and ordered the cabby to make haste.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think I am&mdash;a bloomin' steamboat?" inquired the cabby in
+sleepy wrath.</p>
+
+<p>They wheeled into Sixth Avenue and Ralston noticed that the surface cars
+which passed already had some passengers. Men were standing in twos and
+threes upon the street corners. Most of them were smoking clay pipes. He
+wondered what manner of men went to work at this hour. They passed
+Fourteenth Street and found many persons walking westward&mdash;at nightfall
+they would plod back. It was a long, long way to go to work. No one had
+spoken in the cab as yet.</p>
+
+<p>"Funny how small the city seems at night," said the girl.</p>
+
+<p>Although there was a germ of psychological truth in the remark, Ralston
+could think of nothing in reply. He had often noticed the same
+phenomenon. Of an afternoon, with Fifth Avenue crowded to the curbs, the
+distance from his club to Forty-second Street appeared immense. By night
+it seemed no more than a block or two. Now, as they rode northward in
+the graying light, the distances which his mental cyclometer ticked off
+seemed small and their pace inordinately slow.</p>
+
+<p>Sullivan had maintained a consistent silence. The Masterson affair had
+effectually put a quietus upon his belligerency. Ralston was overwhelmed
+with sleep. There was a weight behind each of his eyeballs that seemed
+forcing them downward and outward, and the humming in the back of his
+head had returned. A faint odor of violets and rice powder emanated from
+the overcoat beside him. Now and again the small head, with its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> piles
+of brown hair and old slouch hat, would begin to incline gradually and
+gently in his direction, only to be raised again when the brim of the
+hat touched his shoulder. He leaned his own head in the corner and
+closed his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Instantly a heavy curtain, warm, fragrant, deliciously soothing, seemed
+drawn over him. He found himself talking to Ellen in Miss Evarts's
+drawing-room. He felt again the elation of his appointment, the
+gratefulness of appreciation. The man was painting in his name on the
+blackboard&mdash;the man in the yellow-and-black sweater, and he heard the
+crowd spelling it out and repeating it. Once again he experienced the
+thrill it had occasioned him the night before. He realized anew the
+extent to which his selection had brought him into the public eye&mdash;the
+influence which the success or failure of his appointment would have
+upon the Administration.</p>
+
+<p>The President had been already severely criticised for giving important
+places to comparatively young and untried men&mdash;men of the silk-stocking
+class&mdash;and the President had but a doubtful hold upon the people.
+Several canards had been started which, in the face of recent
+socialistic propaganda, had made considerable headway. The yellow
+journals were denouncing the war as imperialistic, as an excuse for an
+ambitious executive to play the part of a C&aelig;sar or a Napoleon. They
+charged that he was surrounding himself with the rich and powerful, and
+their sons. He was contrasted with Lincoln and Jefferson. In a word, the
+Administration was in a ticklish position.</p>
+
+<p>Then upon Ralston's wearied brain flashed the picture of his meeting
+with Colonel Duer; the tawdry, tarnished environment of his search for
+the worthless Steadman;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> his arrival at "The Martin" at two in the
+morning; his open solicitation of a woman's acquaintance, and the
+consequent free fight in which, so far as the onlookers knew, he might
+have killed her companion; then, and most unpleasant of all, his flight,
+bearing away his victim with him. How could he explain <i>that</i>? Why, the
+thing must have been wired to every morning paper in the country. He
+could see the headlines:</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span style="font-size: 110%;">ASSISTANT SECRETARY OF NAVY KILLS MAN</span><br />
+<span style="font-size: 90%;">FIGHT AROSE OVER WOMAN IN RESTAURANT</span><br />
+<span style="font-size: 90%;">A NEW SCANDAL FOR THE PRESIDENT TO HUSH UP</span></p>
+
+<p>He shuddered at the thought of it. If he gave himself up and declared
+that he had struck in self-defense, how could he explain having dashed
+away with the woman in a hansom? Where had he gone? <i>Why</i> had he gone
+there? His lips were sealed. He <i>could</i> make no statement without
+publicly avowing the whole object of his night's work&mdash;the necessity for
+finding Steadman, and Steadman's relations with Ellen. He saw column
+after column of interviews with himself, real and imaginary. The most
+sacred passages of Ellen's life would be made public property, dressed
+up to suit the editor's fancy, and sold on the corner for a penny.</p>
+
+<p>The possibility sickened him. There was nothing to be done but to resign
+and go away. In that way only could the Administration be relieved from
+a most embarrassing situation, and by no other means could Ellen be
+saved from the humiliation incident to a truthful explanation of the
+affair. Then, too, he must continue his search. He could not give it up
+now. He must find Steadman, even while a fugitive from justice himself.
+He <i>would</i> find him.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>He opened his eyes. They were still following Sixth Avenue beneath the
+elevated tracks. It had grown brighter. Sullivan had lighted a cigar.
+Ralston found himself trembling with excitement. A sweat had broken out
+all over him. Across the way, on the opposite corner, he saw the lights
+of a telegraph office, and he raised the manhole and told the cabby to
+stop.</p>
+
+<p>"What's up?" inquired Sullivan, removing his cigar.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got to send a telegram," said Ralston unsteadily.</p>
+
+<p>Sullivan looked at him with suspicion.</p>
+
+<p>"You ain't givin' me the double cross, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"I give you my word I'm not," replied Ralston. "It's only a matter of
+private business."</p>
+
+<p>"Guess it can wait, can't it?"</p>
+
+<p>Ralston smiled in spite of himself. He wished he could tell Sullivan the
+purport of this telegram which gave him so much anxiety. Simultaneously
+it occurred to him that it was undesirable to leave the cab even for a
+moment Sullivan might take it into his head to disappear.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well," he retorted, "it doesn't entirely suit my book to allow you
+a chance to side-step me either, so we'll settle it by letting Miss
+Davenport send the wire for me. In that way we can each continue in the
+other's company. Much more agreeable, of course. Miss Davenport, may I
+ask you to get me a blank from inside?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl sprang down and quickly returned with a sheaf of blanks and a
+pencil. Ralston scribbled on his knee a hasty message:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>To the President, White House, Washington. Am forced,
+after all, to decline appointment. See morning papers.
+Am writing fully.</p>
+
+<p class="sig"><span class="smcap">Ralston.</span></p></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>He handed her half a dollar and she re&euml;ntered the office.</p>
+
+<p>Now Miss Davenport was a young person wise in her generation. She had
+seen many men in many situations, and she realized that the man who had
+handed her this particular telegram was in a condition bordering on
+collapse. Had she seen fit to use a sporting term she would have said
+that Ralston was "groggy" with nervousness and excitement. In addition
+she was not devoid of the usual amount of feminine curiosity. At any
+rate, her first move was to read the telegram.</p>
+
+<p>"He's crazy!" she exclaimed under her breath. "Why, he doesn't even know
+whether they got his name! And Jim's all right." She turned the message
+over in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess that telegram <i>can</i> wait. There won't be anything in the
+papers. The presses are locked at one o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>"Say," she remarked to the sleepy operator, "what's the rate to
+Washington, D.&nbsp;C.?"</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-five for ten words, and two cents a word over."</p>
+
+<p>"Change that for me, will you? Let me have some coppers?"</p>
+
+<p>The man fished out the small change and went back to his accounts.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Davenport slipped the paper into her pocket and returned to the
+cab.</p>
+
+<p>"Nineteen cents change," she said, handing it to Ralston.</p>
+
+<p>"Where to?" asked the cabby mechanically.</p>
+
+<p>"West Forty-fifth Street," said Sullivan.</p>
+
+<p>They started on. The street lamps were fast paling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> beneath the dawn. At
+Thirty-third Street and Broadway a newsboy was hopping on the cars and
+shouting his items. A strange thrill of determination had seized
+Ralston. The die was cast now. There was nothing more to consider.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's your <i>Morning Journal</i>!" cried the boy as the cab swung by. "New
+Assistant Secretary of the Navy. Twelfth Regiment starts with a full
+quota of officers!" He waved his sheets at them.</p>
+
+<p>Inside the cab Ralston set his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll make it a full quota!" he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>They turned down Thirty-third Street into Fifth Avenue.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here," said Sullivan suddenly, "all I do is to show him to you,
+see? Understand, I don't get into no mix-up myself! My job ends when I
+give you the pass."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Ralston. "Just show him to me. That's all I ask."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," repeated Sullivan.</p>
+
+<p>They passed Forty-second Street and turned into Forty-fifth, just as the
+lights in the crosstown cars had been put out.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="newchapter"><a name="THE_MAN_HUNT_VIII" id="THE_MAN_HUNT_VIII"></a>VIII</h3>
+
+
+<p>The house before which they stopped was an old-fashioned brownstone
+front. A brownstone flight of steps with a heavy brownstone balustrade
+and huge, carved newel post of the same depressing material led to a
+pair of ponderous stained doors tight shut with the air of finality
+possible only to a brownstone side street. The shades on the four rows
+of windows of this impenetrable mansion were smoothly drawn. At the
+grated window in the area the lower half of a bird cage, just visible
+beneath the screen, was the only indication of occupancy. The whole
+aspect of the place was that of somnolent respectability. One could
+imagine the door being swung wide, the rug shaken, the broom making a
+fictitious passage through the vestibule, the curtains going up unevenly
+in the front parlor, the shades raised in the area, the canary thrilling
+in response to the shaking of the kitchen range, and <i>Paterfamilias</i>
+coming down the steps at about eight twenty-five in a square Derby hat,
+to go to his real estate office. This is what occurs at four homes out
+of five in this locality every morning from the first day of October to
+the first day of July.</p>
+
+<p>But no eye within the last ten years had beheld a shade raised in this
+particular establishment. The census taker had never entered its doors.
+No woman had ever passed its threshold. No child had ever played within<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>
+its halls. Once a year a load of wines was deposited there and once a
+month a grocer's wagon paused outside. The coal was put in during the
+summer&mdash;forty tons, C.&nbsp;O.&nbsp;D. and five per cent off. The milkman was the
+only matutinal visitor, and the milkman left his wares upon the flagging
+of the servants' entrance. At eleven o'clock a colored man emerged from
+the area and departed in the direction of Sixth Avenue with a basket
+upon his arm. In half an hour he returned. This was the chief occurrence
+of the day. At seven in the evening two hansom cabs drew up before the
+door to allow four men to enter the house&mdash;also by the area. That was
+all, except that the ice wagon stopped daily, but the colored man took
+the ice off the hooks at the door.</p>
+
+<p>The visitors at the house arrived in cabs between the hours of eight and
+twelve <span class="smcap lowercase">P.M.</span>, and departed between the latter hour and five in the
+morning. There are forty similar <i>m&eacute;nages</i> north of Thirty-third Street
+and east of Long Acre Square.</p>
+
+<p>"He's in here," said Sullivan. "But I ain't goin' inside."</p>
+
+<p>"You're not, eh?" remarked Ralston. "Very well, we stay here together
+then until he comes out&mdash;and then you go down to headquarters with
+<i>me</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Sackett," whined Sullivan, "how can I go in? They'd see me
+and know I'd sold 'em out. I can't do it. It would finish me. Don't be
+unreasonable."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, how do I know he's here?" asked Ralston. "Don't be unreasonable
+yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I <i>know</i> he's here," said Sullivan. "I tell you what I'll do.
+I'll go into the hall, and when you're satisfied I ain't givin' you the
+double-cross, I'll slip out.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> Suppose I showed you Steadman, that would
+satisfy you, wouldn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It certainly would," said Ralston.</p>
+
+<p>Sullivan looked up and down the street and then clambered out in a
+disjointed and rheumatic fashion.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, Miss Davenport, I can't let you have the cab," said Ralston.
+"I shall need it&mdash;I hope."</p>
+
+<p>Sullivan was on the sidewalk, looking at the house.</p>
+
+<p>The girl suddenly seized Ralston's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Ralston," she said, "be careful while you are in that house. Don't
+mention a word of what I've told you about Sullivan. They're a reckless
+lot. Watch yourself and them. Play it easy, and good luck to you. Some
+time, I hope, I'll see you again."</p>
+
+<p>Ralston pressed her hand.</p>
+
+<p>He climbed down.</p>
+
+<p>"Where to?" mumbled the cabby.</p>
+
+<p>"Stay right <i>here</i> until I come out&mdash;if it's six hours!" directed
+Ralston.</p>
+
+<p>The dawn was flushing the chocolate-colored fronts before them and a
+milk wagon was working gradually down the block. Ralston felt weak in
+the knees, but he pounded his feet on the pavement and stepped quickly
+after Sullivan, who had started up the steps.</p>
+
+<p>"I needn't warn you that there must be no funny business, Sullivan,"
+said Ralston, as the other fumbled in his trousers pocket. "Our bargain
+holds. Your life for mine and Steadman's."</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't worry," replied Sullivan. "Homicide isn't in our business.
+I wish I could turn Steadman over to you bound hand and foot, but I
+can't. You've got <i>him</i> to deal with. The rest is easy. The gang's
+pretty near through with him. But you've got to handle <i>him</i> yourself."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>Sullivan inserted the key and turned the handle of the door, which swung
+open as if on greased hinges.</p>
+
+<p>As Ralston crossed the threshold it occurred to him forcibly that
+although the house in which he now stood was not over three blocks from
+his lodgings, and that his round-the-clock chase had brought him, like a
+man lost in the woods, back almost to his starting point, the fact that
+he had actually struck Steadman's trail at all, to say nothing of having
+run him to earth, was in itself no less than a miracle. Fate had
+certainly favored him upon the one hand, if it had dashed his hopes upon
+the other. He was the same Ralston that had jumped into the same cab
+just around the corner some seven hours before, but in that short
+passage of time the current of his existence had gone swirling off in an
+entirely unexpected direction. The hopes and ambitions of the evening
+had faded to fair dreams lingering on after a disappointing awakening.
+Apart from his utter exhaustion a pall had fallen upon his spirit&mdash;he
+had become undervitalized physically and psychically. He did not care
+what might happen before he regained the street, and he knew that almost
+anything might happen. The gamblers had been in an ugly mood for a long
+time. Yet he knew that his hold on Sullivan, fictitious as it was, was
+for the time being a sure one. Moreover, the experiences of the night
+had not lessened his confidence in his capacity to handle any new
+situation as it might arise.</p>
+
+<p>Sullivan now addressed himself to the inner door, which opened as easily
+as its predecessor, and an old-fashioned hall disclosed itself before
+them. On the right a pair of heavy <i>porti&egrave;res</i> concealed the entrance to
+what was, or at least some time had been, the drawing-room. The usual
+steep flight of carpeted walnut stairs ascended<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> to the usual narrow
+hallway on the second floor. A massive walnut hatrack supported a huge
+mirror and a collection of Inverness coats and tall hats. A bronze gas
+chandelier burned brightly, and a colored man lay extended at full
+length upon the floor with his head resting upon the bottom stair. The
+air was close and heavy and filled with the thin blue smoke of distant
+cigars. Apart from the audible repose of the negro the house was as
+silent as a New England Sabbath morning.</p>
+
+<p>Sullivan strode toward the recumbent figure upon the floor and
+administered a stout kick, at which the sleeper suddenly raised his head
+and drew up his knees.</p>
+
+<p>"Here you, Marcus, wake up!" growled Sullivan. "Where's Mr. Farrer?"</p>
+
+<p>The negro rubbed his eyes and gazed stupidly at the two figures before
+him without replying.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's Mr. Farrer?" repeated Sullivan.</p>
+
+<p>Marcus pointed over his shoulders and up the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"He's in de back room, boss."</p>
+
+<p>"Who's up there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Jes' a single game&mdash;five gen'lemen."</p>
+
+<p>"How long they been playin'?"</p>
+
+<p>"Couple days, Ah reckon."</p>
+
+<p>"How long have you been asleep?"</p>
+
+<p>"Couple days, Ah reckon, boss," repeated Marcus.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Mr. Steadman up there?"</p>
+
+<p>"He de gen'leman they calls Mr. X?" asked Marcus with more interest.</p>
+
+<p>"I think so," answered Sullivan.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, he's up dere. Say, boss, what day is this?" asked Marcus.
+"Sunday, ain't it? We began playin' Satudy, but Ah reckon Ah done got
+'fused 'bout de time."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>But Sullivan did not reply. Instead he turned to Ralston and said:</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, I don't see any way out of my having to introduce you to the
+game. After I've done that you'll have to manage the thing for
+yourself."</p>
+
+<p>He started laboriously upstairs. Marcus returned to his previous picture
+of elegant repose. At the top of the first flight they turned and,
+passing along the hall, ascended another. The smoke grew thicker as they
+progressed. The only light came from the gas brackets, for the skylight
+over the wall was draped with a sheet of black cloth. At the top of the
+second flight Ralston caught the faint click of chips.</p>
+
+<p>"It's up to you," said Sullivan, "if you want to go in."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll take the responsibility," answered Ralston, but his heart began to
+beat faster, a phenomenon he attributed to the fact that there was no
+elevator.</p>
+
+<p>At the top of the last flight they paused. The sound of chips and low
+voices came distinctly from beneath the door of the room in the back.
+Then followed a pause, during which some one cursed his luck loudly.</p>
+
+<p>Sullivan pushed open the door and Ralston entered at his elbow. At first
+he could see nothing, owing to the thick haze that hung like a cloud
+throughout the room. Then he made out the figures of five men in their
+shirt-sleeves seated at a medium-sized table. These started to their
+feet at the interruption, and one of them, larger than the others, cried
+out:</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's only me&mdash;little, tiny me," said Sullivan with a laugh. "I've
+brought a new come-on that thinks he knows the game. Can you let him sit
+in?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>Ralston was watching Sullivan narrowly for the first sign of betrayal,
+but it was clear that Sullivan was living up to his bargain.</p>
+
+<p>A drawling voice came from the table. "Five's the gambler's game&mdash;we're
+nearly through, anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>The tall man hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"We're nearly through, as Mr. X says," he remarked, not impolitely.
+"It's quite late. Of course, if you're a friend of Sullivan's&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, let me take a stack. I've made a night of it and I want to get my
+bait back. I guess I've still got the price," said Ralston. He pulled a
+roll of bills from his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the other, "gamblers' rules. This is an open game. I'm
+afraid he's entitled to come in. Goin', Sullivan? Well, so-long. Close
+the door after you."</p>
+
+<p>"So-long, Sackett," said Sullivan.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-by!" said Ralston, with emphasis. "We're quits, aren't we?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," replied Sullivan.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me present you to the company," said the tall man. "My name's
+Farrer. I guess you've heard of me. These are my friends, Messrs. Brown,
+Jones, and Robinson, and Mr. X. Your own name is Mr. &mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sackett," said Ralston.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Mr. Sackett. We were just about goin' to pull out, but we'll
+hold the game open for you for a few minutes, just to give the boys a
+chance to even up. No, we're not playing dollar limit. The lid's off.
+But just out of respect for the cloth we don't go above a thousand at
+one clip. Take a full stack? Amounts to exactly forty-nine hundred and
+seventy-five. Brown, a thousand; yel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>low, five hundred; blue, one
+hundred; red, fifty; white, twenty-five and the blind."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said Ralston, with a slight leap of the heart, as Farrer
+pushed over the little pile of ivory counters. "If you don't object I'll
+take off my overcoat for luck."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="newchapter"><a name="THE_MAN_HUNT_IX" id="THE_MAN_HUNT_IX"></a>IX</h3>
+
+
+<p>Ralston removed his dress coat and seized the opportunity for a rapid
+glance around the room. Farrer had retaken his seat and the others were
+moving over to make room for an extra chair. The curtains, tightly
+drawn, repelled the eddying smoke, which slowly drew toward the
+fireplace.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston had no time to study the men about him. He had recognized
+Steadman immediately, but it was apparent that Steadman himself was in
+no condition to recognize anybody. The boy sat limply in his chair with
+his head down and his eyes rolled toward the ceiling, apparently
+incapable of speech or action, yet suddenly returning to life and to
+complete lucidity at irregular intervals. Farrer he knew by reputation.
+The other three men were probably professional card sharps masquerading
+under the guise of men about town. Of what he should eventually do
+Ralston had no clear idea. It was obvious that the gang were not yet
+through with Steadman, and, moreover, that until Steadman wanted to go
+away he would stay where he was. He must fight for time and await his
+opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>Farrer sat with his back to the door, the two chairs to his left being
+occupied by the gentlemen introduced as "Brown" and "Jones." Next to
+them and facing Farrer came Steadman, with "Robinson" between him and
+Ralston, who sat immediately to the right of Farrer and filled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> the last
+seat. He thus had one of the most advantageous places at the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Deal out," said Farrer to the man on his left. "It's getting late. Ante
+up, boys. I have a hunch that something is coming my way this time."</p>
+
+<p>The dealer dealt rapidly round, using, Ralston was particular to notice,
+the same cards which had been laid on the table when he entered. It was
+clear that a pack "stacked" for five could not be used for six, and
+Ralston, picking up his hand and finding he had three jacks pat, pushed
+in his white chip.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll draw cards," said he quietly. All came in except Steadman, who
+threw his cards down upon the table with an oath.</p>
+
+<p>The dealer handed the remaining two men three cards each, Ralston took
+one, Farrer three, and the dealer one. Although our novice did not
+improve his hand, he raised a fifty-dollar bet made by the man upon his
+right by a blue chip. Farrer dropped out and the dealer raised Ralston
+another blue. The other two men dropped, and Ralston "saw" the dealer,
+who threw down a busted flush.</p>
+
+<p>"Good work, old man!" exclaimed Farrer. "You're no sucker. Deal for Mr.
+X, there, Robinson."</p>
+
+<p>"I can deal for myself, thanks," remarked Steadman, and indeed he
+managed to do so surprisingly well.</p>
+
+<p>This time Ralston held nothing and declined to play, while Steadman won
+a small amount with two large pair. Each man had lying before him a pile
+of greenbacks held in place by a heavy paper weight of brass surmounted
+by an ash receiver, Steadman's pile being composed almost entirely of
+one-thousand-dollar bills.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Ralston found himself holding three queens on the deal and
+filled on the draw with a pair of nines.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> The cards had been running
+low, and he had already won in the neighborhood of twelve or thirteen
+hundred dollars. The three queens following his three jacks struck him
+as rather a coincidence, and betting merely a white chip he watched the
+others to see what would happen. To his surprise all dropped out but
+Steadman, who had drawn but a single card and who raised him a blue
+chip. Ralston now raised in his turn a like amount, and Steadman, there
+now being nearly five hundred dollars on the table, raised him a yellow.
+But Ralston, feeling confident of his position, pushed in a brown&mdash;the
+first thousand-dollar bet he had ever made. The gamblers were watching
+them with interest.</p>
+
+<p>"I win," said Steadman, shoving over a brown chip and throwing down a
+flush. "All sky blue."</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry," answered Ralston, "three ladies and a little pair."</p>
+
+<p>"Curse the luck," growled Steadman. "One more hand and I quit."</p>
+
+<p>"Quit?" cried one of the men. "Why, the game's young yet. Nobody's won
+or lost anything to speak of. Don't go <i>now</i>! Mr. Sackett wants to play
+and he's got a lot of our money. We're entitled to our revenge."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't ask him to play," mumbled Steadman. "I'm sick of the game and
+I don't feel just right. I feel sort of sick. I'm only goin' to play one
+more hand."</p>
+
+<p>"All right! Jack pot!" cried Farrer cheerfully. "It's a house rule. Jack
+pots on all full houses containing the royal family. A 'palace pot' we
+call it. Give us a new pack."</p>
+
+<p>One of the men leaned back and reached down a new unopened pack from a
+side table. The cards they had been playing with were red. These were
+blue and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> revenue stamp was unbroken. But a new pack on a
+declaration that the game was going to end struck Ralston as curiously
+unnecessary. The air in the room was beginning to make his head swim,
+and a glance at his watch disclosed that it was half after five. It was
+time for him to get Steadman away, but how to do it?</p>
+
+<p>"Hundred-dollar ante," said Farrer, shuffling the cards ostentatiously
+and dealing himself a jack. They each put in a blue. Steadman was
+helplessly fumbling his chips, counting and recounting them. Silence
+fell upon the table as Farrer tossed the cards accurately to each
+player.</p>
+
+<p>As the last cards were being dealt Steadman's fifth card struck his
+glass, balanced, and fell slowly over. It was a deuce of hearts.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Farrer apologetically.</p>
+
+<p>"Hang you!" escaped from one of the others, and Ralston saw that the
+man's hands were trembling.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't take that card," said Steadman, awaking suddenly as out of a
+trance. "It's no good. Gimme another!"</p>
+
+<p>Farrer flushed.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, you'll have to take it. It's on the deal, not the draw. The
+rule is as old as the game."</p>
+
+<p>"I say I won't take it," snarled Steadman. "I haven't seen my hand. I
+won't take it. I'll stay out, but I won't pick up that card&mdash;it's no
+good." He gave a silly laugh.</p>
+
+<p>One of the other men sprang to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"You've got to take it," he cried. "You can't refuse it. You've got to
+abide by the rules."</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, you fool!" shouted Farrer, almost losing control of himself.
+"Who's running this game? Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> Steadman can't have another card. He can
+look at his hand, and if he wants to stay out he can, but he's got to
+play the cards he's got. Pick up your hand, old man. Don't let's get
+upset over a little thing like that. Why, it may be the very card you
+want."</p>
+
+<p>But Steadman's obstinacy was aroused.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't do either," said he. "<i>You</i> can't make me play. I can stay out,
+can't I? I can forfeit my ante. That's my own business, ain't it? Well,
+I'll watch you fellers play for once. What's a blue chip!"</p>
+
+<p>"You fool!" broke in one of the others. "Why don't you look at your
+cards? Don't throw away a hundred dollars like that! Here, if you're so
+proud, I'll look at 'em for you&mdash;and stay out."</p>
+
+<p>He reached for the cards, but Steadman struck his hand away.</p>
+
+<p>"Touch those cards if you dare!" he shouted, his eyes glaring. "Leave my
+cards alone!"</p>
+
+<p>"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" exclaimed Farrer soothingly. "Of course, Mr. X
+can refuse to play if he likes. It's his privilege. Won't you change
+your mind? Well, take out your chip&mdash;nobody objects. Count it a dead
+hand."</p>
+
+<p>"My chip stays in and I stay out," muttered Steadman.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston saw a furtive look pass between two of the others. Farrer dealt
+the remaining cards and picked up his hand, grunting as he looked at his
+cards. The man next him swore softly.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't open it," he growled.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin' doin'," said the second gambler.</p>
+
+<p>Steadman remained staring at his deuce of hearts.</p>
+
+<p>"By me!" remarked the third gambler. Then Ral<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>ston picked up his hand.
+He felt as he used to feel when under the student lamp in his college
+room he had calculated the chances of filling a bobtail straight as
+against a four flush. The others were watching him eagerly. Four jacks
+closely backed one another in his hand. He could hardly suppress a grin.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye-es, I'll open it," he remarked hesitantly. He toyed with the yellows
+and the browns. Then his fingers slipped across the pile. "I'll let you
+all in easy," he said affably, "for a little white seed."</p>
+
+<p>The gambler across the table bit his lip.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm in!" exclaimed Farrer with an affectation of
+light-heartedness. "It's just about my limit."</p>
+
+<p>The other three pushed in their chips without comment. Each of them took
+one card. Ralston took one. Farrer took four.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" sighed the latter, half to himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this looks pretty good to me," said the first gambler with a
+slight smile, pushing in a brown chip.</p>
+
+<p>The second gambler pursed up his lips and shrugged his shoulders. "Suits
+me, too," he remarked good-naturedly, "I'll up you a thousand."</p>
+
+<p>He contributed two brown chips with great deliberation. Steadman was
+giggling foolishly.</p>
+
+<p>"Where would I have been?" he gibbered. "The tall grass wouldn't have
+hidden me."</p>
+
+<p>The third gambler now came into the game. It appeared that he, also,
+thought highly of his hand, for he raised both his comrades by a brown
+chip.</p>
+
+<p>"One, two&mdash;and back again!" he murmured. "I've got you pinched. Only six
+thousand in the pot&mdash;and four aces will take it all! Come right in, Mr.
+Sackett, the water's warm." They watched him covetously.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>"Oh, I don't know," answered Ralston with deliberation. "I have one or
+two cards myself. They look pretty good to <i>me</i>! But then I'm not used
+to the game. I wonder if you'd stand a raise." He picked up four brown
+chips and counted them slowly. They eyed him, hardly breathing. Then
+Ralston laid the chips back on the table.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said he regretfully. "It's too high for me. Here are my openers,"
+and he threw down his hand face upward on the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Four j-jacks!" stammered Steadman, rubbing his eyes. "Four j-jacks!"</p>
+
+<p>The others, with the exception of Farrer, had arisen and stood glowering
+at Ralston.</p>
+
+<p>"What's this?" exclaimed Farrer harshly.</p>
+
+<p>"What's your game?" cried another.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, gentlemen. I lie down. That's all. It's my privilege."</p>
+
+<p>The gambler ground his teeth and placed his cards on the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Aren't you going to finish the game?" asked Ralston with elaborate
+sarcasm.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course we are," shot back Farrer. "Only to see a man do a damn fool
+thing like that is enough to bust up any game." He looked at his cards.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm out," he added shortly.</p>
+
+<p>The first gambler did not seem to regard his hand any longer with favor,
+for he "dropped" immediately. So also did the second, and the third drew
+the chips toward him, no cards having been disclosed.</p>
+
+<p>Steadman was still giggling feebly.</p>
+
+<p>"I say," he mumbled again, "you <i>are</i> easy! Four jacks! O my! O&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>"Do you think so?" inquired Ralston politely, as he reached quickly
+across the table and, picking up the first gambler's hand, turned it
+over. The man grabbed for the cards, but he was an instant too late.
+Four aces lay under the gaslight.</p>
+
+<p>"Not so easy, eh?" continued Ralston. "Pretty good judgment, it seems to
+me. I'll have my ante back, if you please," and he replaced one of the
+blue chips on his own pile. "It requires more nerve to lay down four
+aces than four jacks."</p>
+
+<p>The men stared at him without speaking, and Farrer arose abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"I supposed I was in a respectable game," he announced with severity.
+"If you gentlemen," turning to Ralston and Steadman, "will step
+downstairs I will adjust matters with you. As for you," addressing the
+other three, "make yourselves scarce and never come into my house
+again." They moved slowly toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't worry on our account, Mr. Farrer," remarked Ralston suavely. "I'm
+sure the matter was merely a coincidence. Seeing a man lie down on four
+jacks is enough to account for any apparent little irregularity." But,
+before he had finished, the three, closely followed by Farrer, had
+departed. Then Ralston looked over to where Steadman was sitting with a
+smile of utter lassitude.</p>
+
+<p>"We were well out of that, I fancy," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder what <i>I</i> had?" answered Steadman dreamily. He fumbled
+unsteadily for his hand and turned it over card by card.</p>
+
+<p>The first was a deuce of spades.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" he remarked, "a pair of 'em, anyhow."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>The next was a deuce of diamonds, and the last a deuce of clubs.</p>
+
+<p>Steadman looked stupidly around the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Four little twos!" he muttered. "And <i>you</i> had four knaves and he had
+four aces. I guess there's a special Providence looking out for <i>me</i>.
+Say, what won that pot, anyway?"</p>
+
+<p>Farrer suddenly reappeared at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's your money, gentlemen," he remarked, counting the chips in front
+of each of them and throwing down the appropriate number of bills.
+"Sorry to have the game broken up in such a way, but these sharps get in
+everywhere. I hope you won't mention the incident. I have a very fine
+line of patrons and nothing of the kind has ever occurred before."</p>
+
+<p>As he turned away Steadman raised his eyes and looked the gambler full
+in the face.</p>
+
+<p>"Farrer," said he, "you've robbed me&mdash;you and your gang. Some time I'll
+make you pay for it, you&mdash;thief!" Then the fire died as suddenly as it
+had come, his head dropped forward listlessly, his eyes rolled
+ceiling-ward, and he fell to mumbling and muttering to himself. Ralston
+sprang to his side, as Farrer slid through the door.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm Dick Ralston," he said. "Don't you recognize me?"</p>
+
+<p>Steadman gazed at him stolidly.</p>
+
+<p>"Rals'on?" he muttered. "Rals'on? So you are! I guess you are. Why not?
+What of it?"</p>
+
+<p>He put his head on his arms and leaned them against the table top.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston grasped him by the shoulder and shook him roughly.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>"Pull yourself together!" he cried. "You must get out of here quickly."
+He shook Steadman again.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you understand?" he said sharply. "Your regiment leaves in an
+hour. <i>Your regiment!</i> Your company!"</p>
+
+<p>Steadman looked at him dully. A burned-out cigarette hung from his under
+lip by its own cohesive ability.</p>
+
+<p>"Rats!" he muttered. "I've chucked all that. Regiment can go for all of
+me unless it wants to wait."</p>
+
+<p>"You fool!" shouted Ralston. "Don't you see it's the end of you if you
+don't go!"</p>
+
+<p>"The end's come already! I'm a dead one now!"</p>
+
+<p>"Get up there!" returned Ralston. "I'll put you at the head of your
+company in forty minutes. Get up, I say."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be an ass, Rals'on!" snarled Steadman. "I'll do as I choose. I
+tell you it's too late!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's nothing of the kind. Why, man, your uniform's all ready for you.
+They haven't started yet. Buck up!"</p>
+
+<p>"You seem awful interested, it strikes me."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind that. Just be thankful some one cared enough to give you the
+tip. Come on now."</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you it's too late. How the hell can I go&mdash;to <i>war</i>?" Steadman
+laughed in a sickly fashion.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston's heart sank and his gorge rose. Had he sacrificed his future
+for a cad like this? And was he going to fail besides?</p>
+
+<p>"You miserable snipe!" he cried, for an instant utterly losing control
+of himself.</p>
+
+<p>"You shan't&mdash;insult me!" chattered Steadman, rising unsteadily to his
+feet. In a flash Ralston perceived the possibilities of the situation.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>"You're a coward, Steadman!" he cried. "A welcher!"</p>
+
+<p>Steadman's eyes glared wildly. "I'll kill you for that!" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Come on down and fight it out then, if you're a man," sneered Ralston,
+turning and making for the head of the stairs. Steadman groped his way
+after him along the wall.</p>
+
+<p>"Come on, you welcher!" taunted Ralston.</p>
+
+<p>With an inarticulate cry of anger, Steadman clasped the banisters and
+half slid, half stumbled to the entrance hall.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll fight you here!" he cried. "I'll kill you!"</p>
+
+<p>"No! No!" answered Ralston. "Outside."</p>
+
+<p>Marcus attempted to put on Steadman's coat, but the latter fought him
+angrily off. Then he staggered and nearly fell.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm sick!" he cried. "I can't see."</p>
+
+<p>"Catch him!" directed Ralston, springing to his side and guiding him
+across the threshold. They led him down the steps, hustled him across
+the sidewalk and into the hansom.</p>
+
+<p>"Where to?" inquired cabby automatically.</p>
+
+<p>"John McCullough's&mdash;drive like mad!" replied Ralston.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="newchapter"><a name="THE_MAN_HUNT_X" id="THE_MAN_HUNT_X"></a>X</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Keep away from me," muttered Steadman, as Ralston climbed into the cab
+beside him. "Keep away, or I'll kill you." His face had turned a livid
+yellow, and he lay limp against the cushions. The cabby started his
+horse round the corner into the avenue.</p>
+
+<p>"Steadman!" cried Ralston, sick at heart. "Steadman, old man! I
+apologize! I beg your pardon! Do you understand? I <i>apologize</i>. It was
+just a trick to get you out&mdash;away."</p>
+
+<p>"Ugh!" groaned the other.</p>
+
+<p>"Brace up! You'll be all right in a minute. All right&mdash;in a minute.
+Understand? Fit as a preacher!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I'm awfully sick!"</p>
+
+<p>They raced down the avenue in silence until, with a sharp turn, the
+hansom dashed into East Twenty-seventh Street and stopped with a lurch
+in front of a low red-brick house close to the corner.</p>
+
+<p>The clock on the corner church showed that he had less than an hour and
+a half as Ralston rushed to the steps and rang the bell. The door was
+almost instantly opened by a heavily built man with a pleasant Irish
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Mr. Ralston!" he ejaculated.</p>
+
+<p>"Sh!" answered the other. "Get this man out quick and into the house.
+You've got to knock him into shape inside of ten minutes. He's at the
+end of a long one. Ten minutes, do you understand?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>"Leave him to me," answered the matter-of-fact McCullough, then crossing
+to the cab, "Give me your arm, sir," he said to Steadman.</p>
+
+<p>"Leave me alone!" muttered Steadman.</p>
+
+<p>Without another word the Irishman put his arms around him, and, as if he
+were a child, lifted him to the ground, across the sidewalk, and into
+the house.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston followed and closed the door. Outside, the cabby fell asleep
+again and the horse stood with one hip six inches higher than the other
+and its head between its legs.</p>
+
+<p>"Hi there, Terry! Sthrip off the gent's clothes!"</p>
+
+<p>Another husky Irishman appeared from somewhere, and the two led Steadman
+into a sort of dressing room, where they speedily relieved him of his
+garments. Without a pause McCullough opened a glass door into a tiled
+passage at the end of which could be seen another door clouded with
+steam. First, however, he poured a teaspoonful of absinthe into the palm
+of his hand and held it to Steadman's face. "Snuff it up yer nose!" said
+he.</p>
+
+<p>Steadman seemed dazed. Like a half-resuscitated man he did as he was
+told, gagging and coughing.</p>
+
+<p>"Come here now," said Terry.</p>
+
+<p>Steadman walked quietly down the passage.</p>
+
+<p>"Only for a minute," said the bath man.</p>
+
+<p>He opened the door and shoved Steadman in, closing and locking it behind
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"That's all he needs," commented McCullough.</p>
+
+<p>"How long will you give him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just five minutes. He didn't like the absinthe, did he?"</p>
+
+<p>Ralston laughed softly. He knew what twentieth century miracles
+McCullough could work.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>"Have you got a telephone?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Shure," answered Mac, leading the way to the office.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston lost no time in calling up the armory.</p>
+
+<p>"I want Clarence. Send him to the 'phone!"</p>
+
+<p>A wait of a couple of minutes followed.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that you, Clarence?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yassah."</p>
+
+<p>"Jump on a car and bring Mr. Steadman's uniform and valise to &mdash;&mdash; East
+Twenty-seventh Street at once."</p>
+
+<p>When he returned to the passage Steadman was beating feebly on the glass
+door from the inside. Terry grinned and shook his head, holding up two
+fingers. The tortured one threw himself in agony into a steamer chair,
+only to leap instantly to his feet with an inaudible yell of pain.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you ready?" Terry inquired of his employer.</p>
+
+<p>"Shure."</p>
+
+<p>They threw open the door and each grabbed an arm of their victim,
+dragging him down the passage into the dressing room. Another door
+opened into a room in which was a large tank. Without ceremony the two
+Irishmen swung their glistening patient off the edge and into the water.
+Steadman shrieked, choked and splashed helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Down wit' him!" cried McCullough, and they forced him beneath the
+surface.</p>
+
+<p>"Ag'in!"</p>
+
+<p>Down he went.</p>
+
+<p>"Now up!" and they lifted him bodily up on to the floor once more, and
+yanked him streaming into the dressing room. Steadman's face was a
+bright red, but he walked to a corner, while the two Irishmen with two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>
+little towels gently blotted the water from his back, sides, and arms.
+His legs they left to take care of themselves.</p>
+
+<p>"Ready there!" cried McCullough, giving Steadman a sharp blow that sent
+him staggering across the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Back again!" yelled Terry, punching his victim in the chest with his
+open hand and sending him reeling toward McCullough.</p>
+
+<p>Then they threw themselves upon him, slapping him, banging him from side
+to side, pulling his ears, arms and nose until he holloed for mercy,
+tossing him from one to the other, and swinging him at full length by
+his hands and feet. Finally, they flung him helpless, red and gasping
+for breath, upon a table. Once more they slapped him until he glowed
+like a lobster, and then rubbed him down with alcohol.</p>
+
+<p>"On with his clothes!" shouted Ralston. "How do you feel, Jack, old
+man?"</p>
+
+<p>"All right!" replied Steadman weakly, with a grin. "How they murdered
+me!"</p>
+
+<p>At this moment the street bell rang and a middle-aged negro appeared
+with a valise, tin box, and chamois-covered sword.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's old Clarence!" ejaculated Steadman.</p>
+
+<p>The negro undid the valise and took out the olive-drab khaki field
+uniform. In a trice he had buckled and buttoned the delinquent officer
+into it. From the tin box came a campaign hat. Steadman fastened on the
+sword himself. There were tears of feeble excitement in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you sure it's not too late?" he asked anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"I've taken my oath to get you there," answered Ralston.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>"By George! You're a good fellow!" repeated Steadman. He held out his
+hand. "You've saved my reputation&mdash;I might almost say&mdash;my life."</p>
+
+<p>Ralston took the hand held out to him, the hand only a few moments
+before raised against him in anger. It was quite warm. McCullough had
+done his bit well.</p>
+
+<p>"You weren't yourself. You didn't realize&mdash;" he began, and stopped. The
+room swam before his eyes, and he groped for a chair. With the partial
+accomplishment of his object, and the consequent physical and mental
+relaxation, the fatigue of the pursuit and the nervous strain which he
+had been under took possession of him. He found the chair and sank into
+it, shutting out the light with his hand. Steadman called McCullough,
+who quickly brought him something to drink. Somewhat revived, Ralston
+staggered to his feet eager to escape from the warmth of the overheated
+room and to finish his task.</p>
+
+<p>"Come along, Steadman. We haven't much time. Less than an hour."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor old chap, you're done up!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no; I'm all right. We must be getting along."</p>
+
+<p>"But we don't leave, you say, until seven!"</p>
+
+<p>"I know, but we must be getting along."</p>
+
+<p>"Where?"</p>
+
+<p>Ralston hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you outside." He shuffled toward the door. Steadman followed.</p>
+
+<p>On the steps he turned toward Ralston inquiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ellen has been waiting," said the latter in a low voice, looking away.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean? Does she know?" asked Steadman in a whisper.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>"I don't know how much," replied Ralston. "She feared you were going to
+lose your chance&mdash;that you'd be done for, and asked me to try and look
+you up. She&mdash;she cares for you, I think."</p>
+
+<p>Steadman uttered a groan.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm a brute," he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>He looked anything but a brute in his olive-drab uniform, campaign hat
+and shining sword.</p>
+
+<p>"Come along," said Ralston, grabbing him by the arm. They took their
+seats in the hansom.</p>
+
+<p>"Where to?" asked the cabby monotonously.</p>
+
+<p>"The Chilsworth," said Ralston.</p>
+
+<p>Once more the exhausted animal climbed wearily up Fifth Avenue. A touch
+of yellow sunlight was just gilding the housetops on the left, and the
+street stretched gray and solitary northward.</p>
+
+<p>"You say she's waiting?" Steadman asked nervously.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"For how long?"</p>
+
+<p>"All night."</p>
+
+<p>Steadman shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>"How did you know where to look for me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't."</p>
+
+<p>Ralston was beginning to feel the revivifying effects of the whisky and
+soda and the fresh morning air.</p>
+
+<p>"''Twas like looking for a needle in haystack,'" he hummed. "'Although
+the chance of finding it was small.' Not an easy job, my friend."</p>
+
+<p>"But I didn't know you were in New York!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd only been back a few days."</p>
+
+<p>"And Ellen asked you to hunt me up?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ye-es."</p>
+
+<p>Again Ralston felt weary, awfully weary, and sleepy.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>"By George, you're a brick!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't mention it!" yawned this "finder of lost persons."</p>
+
+<p>"But why should you? You hardly knew me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Somebody had to do it."</p>
+
+<p>"And that somebody had to know <i>how</i>, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"It would appear so. You'd concealed yourself pretty effectually for
+some time. Your friend the colonel was getting anxious, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"How on earth did you ever do it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell you some time," answered Ralston sleepily. "By the way, do you
+mind saying how long you'd been in that house?"</p>
+
+<p>"Three days."</p>
+
+<p>"And lost&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-seven thousand dollars."</p>
+
+<p>"No one seemed to know you gambled."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't. It was my first experience."</p>
+
+<p>"How long has this little expedition lasted?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two weeks."</p>
+
+<p>The Searcher glanced at his companion. Already the stimulus of the bath
+had succumbed to fatigue. The face was drawn and hollow; the eyes red;
+the mouth twitched. Ralston turned away, his old loathing and disgust
+returning in an instant.</p>
+
+<p>The driver turned into Fifty-seventh Street, and the sun jumped above
+the housetops. Suddenly Steadman burst into tears, sobbing in long-drawn
+hollow sobs like a wearied child, covering his face with his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, buck up! This won't do!" exclaimed Ralston.</p>
+
+<p>"O God!" groaned Steadman tremulously. "I can't face her. Turn around!
+Anywhere!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>"You shall see her!" answered the other. "And now!"</p>
+
+<p>Steadman wiped his eyes. His chest heaved convulsively. He had grown
+quite pale.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't make me!" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall see her&mdash;as you are," repeated Ralston, "and thank her for
+having saved you from disgrace."</p>
+
+<p>Steadman said nothing more. The cab drew up before the door of an
+apartment house.</p>
+
+<p>"Here we are," said Ralston. "Get out!"</p>
+
+<p>Steadman hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Get out! Do you hear?" shouted Ralston, with anger in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Steadman obeyed, his companion following close behind him. Inside, a
+darky sat fast asleep by the elevator. Ralston rapped loudly upon the
+glass and the man moved, rubbed his eyes, and came stupidly to the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Take this gentleman up to Miss Ferguson's apartment," said Ralston.
+"I'll wait below for you. You can have just ten minutes, understand?"</p>
+
+<p>He returned to the sidewalk. The cabby had fallen asleep again. A
+feeling of intense loneliness swept over him. He longed to throw himself
+inside the hansom and rest his exhausted frame. His bones ached and his
+muscles seemed strange and raspy, and he kept himself awake by walking
+nervously backward and forward before the house. He could hardly keep
+his eyes from closing and his knees trembled as if he were convalescing
+from an illness.</p>
+
+<p>"I did it!" he repeated over and over to himself. "By George! I did
+it!&mdash;saved him for her. Only for me and he would be what he called
+himself&mdash;'a dead one.'"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>The sunlight in the street grew momentarily brighter. Milk wagons groped
+their way from door to door, the horses stopping undirected at the
+proper places, and starting up again in response to uncouth roars from
+the drivers.</p>
+
+<p>An elevated train rattled by at the end of the street, and some workmen
+in overalls, conversing loudly in a foreign dialect, hurried noisily
+past. A few maids unchained front doors, gave the rugs feeble flaps, and
+eyed Ralston curiously before going inside to resume their domestic
+duties.</p>
+
+<p>He found that he was walking in a circle. His brain had fallen asleep.
+He realized that he had been dreaming, but the dream was vague and
+indistinct. Then he heard the faint sound of distant music. A housemaid
+dropped her rug and ran toward the avenue. Two pedestrians turned back
+in the same direction. A driver jumped into his milk wagon and sent the
+horse galloping.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston listened. Yes, the music was getting louder. They were playing
+"Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by!" It must be the regiment on their way
+from the armory to the ferry. He looked at his watch with a lump in his
+throat. It was "good-by" for him as well as for Steadman. There was no
+longer any doubt. Perhaps he could get a commission. He'd go away,
+anyhow.</p>
+
+<p>A hastily formed group of spectators on the corner began to wave their
+hats. The band was very near. A squad of figures stepping briskly in
+time came into view, at their head the erect form of Colonel Duer. He
+could recognize the other members of the staff, the adjutant, the
+commissary, the quartermaster, the doctor&mdash;he knew them all. On the left
+trudged the chaplain.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>The drum major following the staff turned and swung his baton, then
+resumed his former position. By George, they were playing well! Ah! What
+a difference it made when it was real business. Just behind the band
+followed the field music, with old "Davie" carrying the drum.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by!"</p>
+
+<p>The drums passed and the fifers. Then at a little distance came the
+lieutenant colonel and his staff at the head of the first battalion,
+marching full company front down the avenue. Ralston's heart beat
+faster. That was where <i>he</i> could have been. How well those boys
+marched; just like a parade, their yellow legs eating up&mdash;eating
+up&mdash;eating up&mdash;eating up the ground. The band had grown fainter. You
+could hear the chupp&mdash;chupp&mdash;chupp&mdash;chupp of the hundreds of feet. Eyes
+front! No one to look at them, but eyes front! This was business. How
+trim they looked, each man in his olive-drab uniform, leggings, and
+russet shoes. How set were the faces beneath the gray felt hats! How
+lightly they bore their heavy load of haversack, yellow blanket roll,
+canteen, and cartridge belt. How the sword bayonets at their sides
+clinked and threw back the light to the blue barrels of their
+Krag-Jorgensens!</p>
+
+<p>"Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by," came faintly from the distance. Still
+the yellow rows kept passing. The first battalion ended.</p>
+
+<p>Then a major appeared, walking alone, followed closely by a captain and
+first lieutenant. Ralston strained his eyes for the yellow line behind
+them. Ah, there they were! Good boys! Good boys!</p>
+
+<p>The even companies swung by until the battalion had passed.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>Then came another major at the head of the third battalion. The third
+battalion! The line swept across from curb to curb with a single man
+behind the major&mdash;a lieutenant. Company D! Steadman's! The major's face
+was set in a hard frown. Ralston laughed feebly. That was all right.
+He'd fix that. Just wait a few minutes. His captain would be there.</p>
+
+<p>The little crowd on the corner began to cheer. Another company came into
+view. They had the colors&mdash;the dear old colors. Ralston doffed his hat
+and held it to his breast, straining his glance after the flag. The
+pavement floated away from him and his eyes filled with hot tears. He
+could not see the lines of marching men, but stood staring at the corner
+beyond which the colors had disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>Overcome with utter exhaustion, he sobbed hysterically, grasping the
+iron railing at his side. In a moment he got the better of himself and
+brushed the tears hastily away. Then a hand was laid upon his shoulder
+and he turned to see Ellen, her own eyes moist, and her face pale,
+looking up at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Ellen!"</p>
+
+<p>"Dick!"</p>
+
+<p>That was all. At the end of the block the hospital corps with their
+stretchers were just passing out of sight. Steadman stood on the steps,
+leaning against the doorway. He grinned in a sheepishly good-natured
+manner at Ralston.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I found him!" the latter managed to announce in a fairly natural
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>"So I see," answered Ellen, "and ready to report for duty."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I guess I'll say good-by," said Ralston awk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>wardly. "You people
+can have the cab as long as the horse lasts."</p>
+
+<p>"No, you don't," said Steadman. "Remember you've agreed to put me at the
+head of my company. You haven't done it yet! Has he, Ellen?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, we intend to take you with us to the ferry," she answered with a
+smile.</p>
+
+<p>The word "we" sent a pang through Ralston's tired heart, and for an
+instant the sunlight paled before his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, jump in, both of you," said Ellen.</p>
+
+<p>She seemed very cheerful, and strangely enough, so did Steadman. Ralston
+wondered if when people cared like that just seeing each other again
+would have such a stimulating effect. For his own part he was too tired
+to speak. As they trotted slowly down Fifth Avenue Ellen and Steadman
+kept up a lively conversation. She admired his uniform, his sword, his
+belt; talked of the other men and officers she knew in the regiment, and
+of the chagrin of Lieutenant Coffin, when his captain should oust him
+from his temporary place at the head of the company. On Twenty-third
+Street, near Eighth Avenue, they overtook the regiment, and followed the
+remainder of the distance close behind the hospital corps. Then silence
+fell upon them. The actual parting loomed vividly just before them at
+the ferry.</p>
+
+<p>Crowds of people, mostly small tradesmen and persons living in the
+neighborhood, had already begun to collect and follow the troops toward
+the place of embarkation. Ahead, the band was playing "Garry Owen," and
+the colors blazed in the sunlight. The regiment looked like a field of
+yellow corn waving in the breeze. About a hundred yards from the ferry
+house a few sharp or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>ders came down the line and the regiment halted&mdash;at
+"rest."</p>
+
+<p>Steadman looked at his watch.</p>
+
+<p>"Three minutes to seven," he said, snapping the case. "I guess the old
+man will drop when he sees <i>me</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Just in time!" murmured Ellen.</p>
+
+<p>"Drive along, cabby, to the head of the procession," added Steadman.</p>
+
+<p>There was plenty of space to allow the hansom to pass near the curb, and
+they drove slowly along past the three battalions to where the colonel
+and his staff stood waiting for the gates to be opened. The band had
+ceased playing. The men laughed and jested, watching the lone hansom and
+its three occupants with interest.</p>
+
+<p>At the stone posts by the entrance the cab stopped and Steadman shook
+hands with Ellen. The smile had gone from his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-by, Ellen&mdash;good-by!"</p>
+
+<p>"Good-by, John," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>Ralston had turned away his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, good-by, old man! Accept the prodigal's insufficient thanks.
+You're a brick, Ralston. Good-by!"</p>
+
+<p>Beside the hansom Steadman paused for an instant and looked up.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't forget what I said, Ellen! The fellow I spoke of is 'a prince.'
+Good-by!"</p>
+
+<p>He turned and walked rapidly to where the colonel stood talking to the
+chaplain. All the fatigue had vanished from his step as he drew himself
+up before his commanding officer and saluted.</p>
+
+<p>The staff had turned to him in amazement.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>"I report for duty, sir!" he said simply.</p>
+
+<p>The colonel stared at him for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Take your company, sir!" he replied tartly.</p>
+
+<p>Steadman saluted again, and grasping his sword ran down the line, while
+a wave of comment and ejaculation followed just behind him.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment a whistle blew inside the ferry house, and a porter
+slowly swung the gates open.</p>
+
+<p>The colonel drew his sword.</p>
+
+<p>"Attention!" said he, glancing behind him.</p>
+
+<p>"Attention!" ordered the lieutenant colonel.</p>
+
+<p>"Attention!" shouted the majors.</p>
+
+<p>As the regiment stiffened, Steadman stepped to the head of his company.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, Mr. Coffin," he remarked nonchalantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning," replied the astounded lieutenant.</p>
+
+<p>Then as the order flew down the line Steadman drew his sword.</p>
+
+<p>"Attention!" he cried in a clear voice.</p>
+
+<p>Behind the staff the drum major held his baton in air, and the musicians
+stood with their instruments at their lips ready for the order.</p>
+
+<p>The colonel's eye flew down the line.</p>
+
+<p>"Forward&mdash;" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>Down came the drum major's baton. The band started "There'll be a Hot
+Time!"</p>
+
+<p>"&mdash;March!" concluded the colonel, and, turning front, stepped ahead.</p>
+
+<p>"Forward&mdash;march!" shouted the lieutenant colonel. The order was
+instantly repeated by the captains.</p>
+
+<p>The battalion came to shoulder arms and moved forward.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>"Horrard, Hutch! Horrard, Hutch!" howled the majors.</p>
+
+<p>"Urrgh! Uhh! Huh! Huh!" yelled the captains.</p>
+
+<p>Each company tossed its rifles into place, dressed down the line, marked
+step for a moment, and then flashed its hundred legs in unison to the
+band. The yellow field of corn once more wavered in the wind and blew
+slowly forward.</p>
+
+<p>Ellen and Ralston sat motionless in the hansom as the battalions tramped
+by. At the head of his company marching with drawn sword, his head
+slightly bent and his gaze straight before him, came Steadman, but his
+eyes sought them not. The hospital corps with their stretchers brought
+up the rear and disappeared through the gates. The commissariat wagons
+followed stragglingly. The band could be heard dimly in the distance.</p>
+
+<p>Then the whistle blew again and the man who had opened the gates ran out
+and closed them. The Twelfth had gone&mdash;with a full quota of officers.</p>
+
+<p>"The Chilsworth," said Ralston, through the manhole.</p>
+
+<p>The driver once more hitched the reins over the back of his moribund
+beast, and they started uptown.</p>
+
+<p>"Dick," said Ellen suddenly, in a whisper, "Dick!"</p>
+
+<p>He turned toward her inquiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Ellen?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I was mistaken last night," she said, coloring and looking away from
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" cried Ralston, his heart leaping.</p>
+
+<p>"That&mdash;there was only one," she answered softly, smiling through her
+tears, "and&mdash;and&mdash;<i>it wasn't</i> John!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>The cabby grinned sleepily and silently closed the manhole, with a
+fatherly expression illuminating his corrugated countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"Hully gee!" he muttered meditatively. "I mighta known there was a woman
+mixed up in it, somehow! Glad he got her!&mdash;Git on thar, you!"</p>
+
+<p>Between the ferry houses the boat was swinging out into midstream, her
+decks crowded with yellow figures, and across the dancing waves the wind
+bore the faint strains of "Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="NOT_AT_HOME" id="NOT_AT_HOME"></a>NOT AT HOME</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0q">"For I say this is death and the sole death,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When a man's loss comes to him from his gain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Darkness from light, from knowledge ignorance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lack of love from love made manifest."<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">&mdash;<i>A Death in the Desert.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>"Harry might have stopped!" thought Brown, as a stalwart young man
+strode briskly past with a short "Good evening." "I've not had a chance
+to speak to him for a month." He hesitated as if doubtful whether or not
+to follow and overtake the other, then turned in his original direction.
+His delight in the scene about him was too exquisite to be interrupted
+even for a talk with his friend. Dusk was just falling. For an instant a
+purple glow lingered upon the spires of the beautiful gray cathedral
+whose chimes were softly echoing above the murmur of the city; then the
+light slipped upward and upward, until, touching the topmost point, it
+vanished into the shadows.</p>
+
+<p>All about him jingled the sleighbells; long lines of equipages carrying
+richly dressed women moved in continuous streams in each direction;
+hundreds of lamps began to gleam in the windows and along the avenue; a
+kaleidoscopic electric sign, changing momentarily, flashed parti-colored
+showers of light across the housetops; big automobiles, full of gay
+parties of men and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> women in enormous fur coats and grotesque visors,
+buzzed and hissed along; newsboys shrilly called their items; warm,
+humid breaths of fragrance rolled out from the florist's shops; and
+smells of confections, of sachet, of gasoline, of soft-coal smoke,
+together with that of roses and damp fur, hung on the keen air.</p>
+
+<p>The greatest pleasure in Brown's life, next to his friendship for Harry
+Rogers, was his continuously fresh wonder at and appreciation for the
+complex, brilliant, palpitating life of the great city in which he, the
+taciturn New Englander, had come to live. The richness of his present
+experience glowed against the somber background of his past, touching
+emotions hitherto dormant and unrecognized. He realized as yet only the
+mysterious charm, the overwhelming attraction of his new surroundings;
+and every sense, dwarfed by inheritance, chilled by the east wind,
+throbbed and tingled in response. So far as Brown knew happiness this
+was its consummation and it was all due to Rogers. As Brown wandered
+along the crowded thoroughfare his mind dwelt fondly upon his friend. He
+recalled their chance introduction two years before at the Colonial Club
+in Cambridge, through Rogers's friend Winthrop, and how his heart had
+instantly gone out to the courteous and responsive stranger. That
+meeting had been the first shimmer of light through the musty chrysalis
+of Brown's existence.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly afterwards he had given up his place in the English Department
+at Harvard at the suggestion of one of the faculty and accepted a
+position at Columbia. The professor had hinted that he was too good a
+man to wait for the slow promotion incident to a scholastic career in
+Cambridge, and had mentioned New York as offering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> immeasurably greater
+opportunities. The advice had appealed to Brown and he had acted upon
+it.</p>
+
+<p>He remembered how lonely he had been the first few weeks after his
+arrival. In that hot and sultry September the city had seemed a prison.
+He had longed for the green elms, the hazy downs, the earthy dampness of
+his solitary evening walks. One broiling day he had encountered Rogers
+on the elevated railroad. The latter had not recognized him at first,
+but presently had recalled their first meeting.</p>
+
+<p>Brown in his enthusiasm had spoken familiarly of Winthrop, explaining in
+detail his own departure from Cambridge and his plans for the future. He
+was nevertheless rather surprised to receive within a week a note from
+Mrs. Rogers inviting him to spend a Sunday with them at their country
+place. What had that not meant to him!</p>
+
+<p>At college he had taken high rank and was graduated at the top of his
+class, but he had made no friends. He would have given ten years of his
+life for a single companion to throw an arm around his shoulder and call
+him by his Christian name. He had never been "old man" to anybody&mdash;only
+"Mr. Brown." At night when he had heard the clinking of glasses and the
+bursts of laughter in the adjoining rooms as he sat by his kerosene lamp
+reading Milton or Bacon or "The Idio-Psychological Theory of Ethics," he
+would sometimes drop his books, turn out the light and creep into the
+hall, listening to what he could not share. Then with the tears burning
+in his eyes he would stumble back to his lonely room and to bed.</p>
+
+<p>When he had achieved the ambition of his college days and by
+heartbreaking and unremitted drudgery had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> secured a position upon the
+faculty, he had found his relations still unchanged. His shell had
+hardened. From Mr. Brown he had become merely "Old Brown."</p>
+
+<p>And then how easily he had stepped into this other life! The Rogers had
+received him with open arms; their house had become the only real home
+he had ever known; and his affection for his new friends had blossomed
+for him almost into a romance. Even when Harry was busy or away, Brown
+would drop in on Mrs. Rogers of an evening and read aloud to her from
+his favorite authors. He tried to guide her reading and sent her books,
+and little Jack he loved as his own child.</p>
+
+<p>The friendship, beginning thus auspiciously, continued for many months.
+Rogers put him up at the club and introduced him to his friends, so that
+Brown slipped into a delightful circle of acquaintances, and found his
+horizon broadening unexpectedly. Life assumed an entirely fresh
+significance, and although, by reason of a constitutional bluntness of
+perception, he failed utterly to discriminate between superficial
+politeness on the part of others and genuine interest, the world in
+which he was now living seemed to overflow with the milk of human
+kindness.</p>
+
+<p>Brown had been making afternoon calls. The friendly cup of tea was to
+him a delightful innovation, and he cultivated it assiduously. He paused
+in front of a large corner house and hopefully ascended the steps.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at 'ome," intoned the butler in response to his inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>He turned down a side street, but no better success awaited him. He had
+found no one "at home" that afternoon. Usually he had better luck. But
+it was getting late and almost time to dress for dinner, and,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> although
+Brown usually dined alone, he had become very particular about dressing
+for his evening meal. His heart was bursting with good nature as he
+sauntered along in the brisk evening air.</p>
+
+<p>This New York was a great place! There rose before him the vision of his
+little room in the Appian Way in Cambridge. Had he remained he would be
+just about going over to Memorial for his supper at the ill-assorted and
+uncongenial "graduates' table" to which he had belonged. Jaggers would
+have been there, and the Botany man, and that fresh chap, who ran the
+business end of <i>The Crimson</i>, and was always chaffing him about
+society. He smiled as he thought of the quiet corner of the club, and of
+the little table with its snowy linen by the window, which he had
+appropriated.</p>
+
+<p>In Cambridge he had passed long months without experiencing anything
+more stimulating than a Sunday afternoon call on a professor's daughter
+or an occasional trip into Boston for the theater, supplemented by a
+solitary Welsh rabbit at Billy Park's. Other men in the department had
+belonged to the Tavern Club, in Boston, or the Cambridge Dramatic
+Society, but he had never been asked to join anything, nor had he
+possessed the <i>entr&eacute;e</i> even to the modest society of Cambridge. He was
+obliged to acknowledge&mdash;and it was in a measure gratifying to him to do
+so, since it threw his success into the higher relief&mdash;that judged by
+present standards his old life had been an absolute failure. No matter
+how genial he had tried to be, he had elicited little or no response.
+The days had been one dull round of tramping from his meals to lectures,
+and from lectures to the library. Although he had had no friends among
+his classmates, he had at least known their faces, but after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> graduation
+he had found himself, as it were, alone among strangers. As time went on
+he had become desperately unhappy and his work had suffered in
+consequence.</p>
+
+<p>Then he had come to New York. As if sent by Fate, Rogers had appeared,
+sought his companionship, made much of him. He began to think that
+perhaps he had misinterpreted the attitude of his quondam
+associates&mdash;they were such a quiet, prosaic, hard-working lot&mdash;so
+different from these debonair New Yorkers. And was not the cane they had
+presented to him on his departure a good evidence of their esteem? He
+swung it proudly. How well he recalled the moment when old Curtis had
+placed the treasure of gold and mahogany in his hands and, in the
+presence of his colleagues, had made his little speech, expressing their
+regret at losing him and wishing him all success. Then the others had
+clapped and cheered and he had stammered out his thanks. The
+presentation had been a tremendous surprise. Well, they were a good
+sort; a little dull, perhaps, but a good sort!</p>
+
+<p>Then, too, he felt himself a better man for his association with Rogers
+and his friends. It was such a new sensation to be appreciated and made
+something of that he had grown spiritually broader and taller. It had
+been very hard in Cambridge, where he had felt himself neglected and
+passed over, not to be selfish and spiteful. His standards had
+imperceptibly lowered. He had "looked at mean things in a mean way."
+Here it was different. With genial, broad-minded associates he had
+become warm-hearted and liberal. His drooping ideals had reared their
+heads. He felt new confidence in and respect for himself. Now he looked
+the world squarely in the eye. His work was improving, and the faculty
+at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> Columbia had expressed their appreciation of it. Life had never been
+so worth living. No one, he resolved, should ever suspect how small and
+narrow he had been before. He would always be the cheerful, generous,
+kindly chap for whom everybody seemed to take him. He had become a new
+man by reason of a little human sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>"How busy people are!" he thought. "I guess I'll have another try at
+Rogers." He crossed the avenue, found the house, and rang the bell. The
+bay window of the drawing-room was on a level with where he stood, and
+he caught a glimpse of Mrs. Rogers sitting beside a cozy tea table, and
+of little Jack playing by the fire. The maid, slipping aside the silk
+curtain before opening the door, inspected the visitor.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Rogers is not at home," she remarked.</p>
+
+<p>Brown was paralyzed at such open prevarication.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I beg your pardon. But I think Mrs. Rogers is in."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Rogers is not receiving," curtly replied the maid.</p>
+
+<p>Brown, vanquished but unconvinced, turned down the steps. At the bottom
+he stopped with a quick breath and glanced back at the house. Then he
+gave his trousers leg a cut with his gold-headed cane, and with a
+courageous whistle started up the avenue again.</p>
+
+<p>He was a bit puzzled. He was sure he could have done nothing to
+displease his friends. It was probably just a mistake; they had
+visitors, perhaps, or the child was not well. He would call up Rogers on
+the telephone next day and inquire.</p>
+
+<p>He walked to the boarding house and in the little hall bedroom he called
+"his rooms" put on the dinner<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> coat of which he was so proud. It had
+cost sixty dollars at Rogers's tailor. He had never owned anything of
+the sort before. When he had been invited out to tea in Cambridge, which
+had been but rarely, he had always worn a "cutaway."</p>
+
+<p>He found Tomlinson, the club bore, in the coat room, invited him to
+dinner, and insisted on ordering a bottle of fine old claret. Tomlinson,
+in his opinion, was most clever and entertaining. After the meal his
+companion hurried away to an engagement, and Brown, lighting a cigar,
+strolled into the common-room, drew an armchair into the embrasure of a
+window, and sat there dreaming, at peace with all the world. The kindly
+faces of Rogers, his wife, and little Jack mingled together in a drowsy
+picture above the fragrant smoke wreaths. The bitterness of his past was
+all forgotten. The poverty and loneliness of his college days, the
+torture of his isolation in Cambridge, the regret for his youth's lost
+opportunities faded from his mind, and in their place he felt the warm
+breath of love and friendship, of kindness and appreciation, and the
+tiny clasp of the hand of little Jack. "God bless them all!" he closed
+his eyes. It seemed as though the boy were lying in his arms, the little
+head pressed against his shoulder. He held him tight and kissed the
+curly hair; his own head dropped lower; the cigar fell from his hand;
+behind the curtain Brown fell fast asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later into his dream floated the voices of Rogers and
+Winthrop. A slight draught of air flowed beneath the curtain. Some one
+struck a bell close by and ordered coffee and cigars, and the cracking
+of six or seven matches marked the number of those who had sat down
+together beside the window. He listened vaguely, too comfortably happy
+to disclose himself.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>"You've got a lot of college men, I hear, in the district attorney's
+office," remarked one of the group, evidently to Rogers. "How do you
+like the work down there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well enough," came the reply. "Trying cases is always interesting,
+you know. By the way, Win, speaking of college men, exactly who is your
+friend Brown?"</p>
+
+<p>The dreamer behind the curtain smiled to himself. "Rogers may well ask
+that," he thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Brown?" returned Winthrop. "You wrote me he was in New York, didn't
+you? Why, you must have known him in Cambridge. He was the great light
+of my class&mdash;don't you remember?&mdash;president of the 'Pudding,' stroked
+the 'Varsity, and took a commencement part besides. A kind of 'Admirable
+Crichton.' I'm glad you've seen something of him here."</p>
+
+<p>There was silence for a moment or two. Obviously, thought Brown,
+Winthrop was confusing him with some one else.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no!" exclaimed Rogers impatiently "<i>you</i> mean Nelson Brown; but
+he's on a tobacco plantation down in Cuba. The man I speak of is a
+little chap with a big head and protruding ears. You introduced me to
+him at the Colonial Club a year ago last spring."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, I may have done so," answered Winthrop. "I don't recall it I
+think there was a fellow named Brown who used to hang around there&mdash;but
+he's no friend of mine. Who said he was?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hang it! You did yourself, in your letter to me," came Rogers's retort.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! I was writing about Nelson!"</p>
+
+<p>Rogers smothered an ejaculation more forcible than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> elegant, but his
+annoyance seemed presently to give way to amusement, and he laughed
+heartily.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, boys, what do you think of this? Two years ago I run on to
+Cambridge, and while there happen to meet a chap named Brown. A year
+later he turns up on the Elevated and greets me like a long-lost
+brother. I mention the incident in a letter to Win. He replies that
+Brown is the finest thing that ever came down the pike. <i>He</i> refers to
+<i>Nelson</i> Brown. <i>I</i> suppose he means <i>my</i> Brown. Thereupon I take this
+unknown person to my bosom and place my home at his disposal. He
+promptly squats on the premises, drives my wife nearly frantic, bores
+all my friends to death, and in a short time makes himself an
+unmitigated nuisance. Fortunately, he hasn't asked me for money. Now,
+who the devil is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know him from Adam!" said Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>"I know who he is," interjected one of the others. "Took a course of his
+on the 'Philology of Psychology' or the 'Psychology of Philology' or
+something. He's just an ass&mdash;a surly beggar&mdash;a sort of&mdash;of&mdash;curmudgeon!"</p>
+
+<p>The window curtain trembled slightly, but no one noticed it.</p>
+
+<p>"I can tell you rather a good story about Brown," spoke up a voice that
+had hitherto been silent. "You know I taught for a time in the English
+Department last year. Brown meant well enough, I guess, but he was an
+odd creature. His great ambition evidently was to get into society.
+Every Sunday he would put on his togs and call on all the unfortunate
+people he knew. Finally, everybody showed him the door. He got to be so
+intolerable that the department fired him, to our intense<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> relief. No
+one cared what became of him&mdash;so long as he only went. But Curtis&mdash;you
+remember old Curtis with the white hair and mustache?&mdash;he felt sorry for
+Brown and thought we ought at least to make a pretense of regret at
+having him leave. He suggested various things, but his ideas didn't
+arouse any sympathy, and we thought that was going to end the matter.
+Not a bit of it. Curtis went into town, all alone, and, although he is
+rather hard up himself, bought a gold-headed mahogany cane for
+forty-five dollars, and next day, when we were all at a department
+meeting, presented it to Brown, from the crowd, and got off a whole lot
+of stuff intended to cheer our departing friend. Of course we had to be
+decent enough to see the thing through, and Brown took it all in and
+almost wept when he thanked us. A few days afterwards Curtis came around
+and wanted us all to contribute to pay for the cane."</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" responded Rogers. "Even my little boy knew there was something
+wrong with him the first time they met&mdash;children are like dogs, you
+know, in that way. Jack whispered to his mother while Brown was
+grimacing at him, 'Mamma, is that a gentleman?' Thought Brown was a gas
+man or a window cleaner, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor brute!" commented Winthrop. "Anyhow, Harry, your mistake has
+probably given him a lot of pleasure. No wonder he seized the
+opportunity. You can drop him by degrees so that, perhaps, he'll never
+suspect. Still, if he's as thick as you say he may give you trouble yet!
+Hello, it's a quarter past eight already! We shall have to run if we
+expect to see the first act. Come on, fellows!"</p>
+
+<p>Half hidden behind the curtain in the window, Brown sat staring out into
+the night.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>Hour after hour passed; the servants looked into the deserted room,
+observed him, apparently asleep, and departed noiselessly. One o'clock
+came, and Peter, the doorman, crossed over and touched him gently on the
+shoulder, saying that it was time to close the club. Brown mechanically
+arose, followed Peter to the coat room, and then, with eyes still fixed
+vacantly before him, silently passed out.</p>
+
+<p>"You've left your cane, sir!" Peter called after him.</p>
+
+<p>But Brown paid no heed.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="A_STUDY_IN_SOCIOLOGY" id="A_STUDY_IN_SOCIOLOGY"></a>A STUDY IN SOCIOLOGY</h2>
+
+
+<p>"I move the case of the People against Ludovico Candido, indicted for
+murder," announced the assistant district attorney, addressing the
+court.</p>
+
+<p>"Bring up Candido," shouted the captain to one of the attendants.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's his lawyer?" inquired the clerk, glancing along the benches.</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't seen him since morning," answered the assistant.</p>
+
+<p>"Send to Mr. Fellini's office, at once," ordered the judge impatiently.
+"He has no business to delay the court."</p>
+
+<p>At this moment the door in the rear of the room opened to admit a small
+dusty-looking Italian, stumbling along in advance of a tall, muscular
+policeman, and clutching nervously in both hands a battered,
+brick-stained felt hat. He was an emaciated, gaunt little fellow of
+about forty-five, with a thin mustache, pointed nose, and wild, rapidly
+shifting brown eyes. Under his open coat a red undershirt, unbuttoned at
+the neck, disclosed his sinewy chest. The nondescript trousers, which
+reached only to his ankles, terminated in huge, formless, machine-made
+shoes, the original color of which had entirely disappeared in favor of
+a dull whitish-green streaked with red.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>He muttered beneath his breath as he saw the throng of strange faces,
+not knowing what was to happen next; but the attendant shoved him on
+without ceremony. Five years in America had taught him only twenty words
+of English, and for aught that he could tell this might well be the
+place of public execution. The rough, imperious lawyer who had consented
+to take his case on the instalment plan had not been to see him in over
+a week. This was because Maria had spent the first instalment on a
+little feast of chicken which she had cooked and brought to the Tombs in
+a newspaper for her husband, instead of taking the money to the
+attorney's office.</p>
+
+<p>As Candido was half dragged, half pushed to the bar, a plump,
+white-skinned, clean-shaven man in a surtout entered the court room and
+thrust his way forward. Suddenly the prisoner uttered a choking cry and
+sank trembling to his knees, his locked hands raised to the judge in
+piteous appeal, while the attendants strove unsuccessfully to lift him
+to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Madonna!" he cried in his native tongue. "O Madonna! I confess that I
+took the life of Beppe! <i>Salvatemi!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>The begoggled, piebald-bearded interpreter who had taken his stand
+beside the defendant began to translate in a dramatic, stilted
+bellowing.</p>
+
+<p>"He says: 'O Madonna, I confess&mdash;&mdash;'"</p>
+
+<p>"Here! Stop him! Stop that! Tell him to keep still. That won't do,"
+interposed the assistant.</p>
+
+<p>The interpreter gesticulated at the Italian, chattering volubly the
+while. Candido, staring like a frightened animal, allowed himself to be
+placed upon his feet, and stood clinging to the rail.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>"Are you ready to proceed to trial?" sternly asked the court of the
+plump man in the surtout.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not, your honor," replied the man. "I have not been paid."</p>
+
+<p>Candido raised his hands in supplication. "<i>O giudice! Confesso</i>&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer glanced at him contemptuously. "Shut up, you fool!" he
+growled in Italian.</p>
+
+<p>"You have not been paid? That makes no difference. This is no time to
+throw over your client."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not represent the prisoner," replied the other stubbornly. "If
+your honor cares to assign me as counsel, I shall be pleased to do so."</p>
+
+<p>Candido, hearing the severity of the judge's tones, shook in every limb.</p>
+
+<p>"So that is your game!" exclaimed his honor wrathfully. "You have
+induced this man to retain you as his lawyer, in order that now, on the
+plea that you have not been paid, you may induce me to assign you as
+counsel, and thus secure the five-hundred-dollar fee allowed by the
+State. A fine performance! I order you to proceed to trial!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then I respectfully decline," retorted the other, turning toward the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>The judge bit his lips in well-controlled anger. "Mr. District Attorney,
+prepare an order at once and serve it upon this attorney to appear
+before me to-morrow morning and show cause why he should not be punished
+for contempt of court. I will assign ex-Judge Flynn to the defense.
+Adjourn court until to-morrow morning." The judge rose and strode
+indignantly from the bench, while the jurors surged toward the entrance.</p>
+
+<p>"Come on there," ordered the attendant. "You're goin' to get new lawyer.
+Lucky feller!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>But Candido with a shriek threw himself on the floor, clutching at the
+feet of the officers. "Madonna! Madonna! Is it indeed all over? Have
+they ordered me to execution? <i>Salvatemi!</i> Madonna!"</p>
+
+<p>The grizzled interpreter stooped down and muttered in his ear: "Courage,
+my countryman! Nothing has occurred. They are to give you a better and
+more learned advocate."</p>
+
+<p>Clinging to the arm of the attendant, Candido staggered toward the door
+leading to the prison pen. His face, ashen before, was now a dusky
+white. He understood nothing of this talk of advocates and adjournments.
+Let them but terminate his suspense. He was ready to expiate his
+offense. He had explained that to the lawyer. It was the will of God.</p>
+
+<p>Close to the wire gate stood a young Italian woman with a shawl thrown
+about her slender shoulders, her hand holding that of a little child.
+"<i>Ludovico! Ludovico mio!</i>" she cried passionately. "Is it over? What
+has happened?"</p>
+
+<p>Candido answered with a great gasping sob. "<i>Maria! Figlio mio!</i> I do
+not know!"</p>
+
+<hr class="thin" />
+
+<p>Candido sat at the bar by the side of the lawyer assigned to defend him.
+Over night in the Tombs he had been informed exactly what had been the
+meaning of the mysterious proceedings of the day before. The great
+advocate had intimated that there might still be a chance for him. After
+all, he had only killed another Italian, and American juries were
+merciful.</p>
+
+<p>The case, the assistant told the jury in opening, was simple
+enough&mdash;plainly murder in the first degree. Giuseppe, or "Beppe"
+Montaro, the deceased, and Ludo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>vico Candido, the prisoner, had both
+come from the same town in Calabria and had been very old friends,
+although Beppe was the younger by some ten years. When Ludovico had
+sought his fortune in America, his wife Maria had remained behind; so
+had Beppe. Candido had been gone for five years, and had then sent for
+his wife. Beppe had come, too. In New York they all had lived together,
+Maria keeping house and taking a number of boarders. Then there had been
+a quarrel. The neighbors had said that Beppe did not always go out to
+work, or that sometimes he returned while Ludovico was away. One night
+Candido had closed the door in the face of his friend, who had sought
+lodgings elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p>It appeared that, the day before the homicide, Candido had purchased a
+revolver which he had exhibited to his wife. A neighbor later had
+overheard her crying, and had asked what was the matter, to which she
+had replied: "Ludovico has bought a pistol. I fear it is for Beppe!" The
+next Sunday evening the defendant and Montaro had met in a wine shop,
+walked to Candido's house together, and in front of the door had had
+violent words. Then the husband had shot the lover.</p>
+
+<p>It was as plain as daylight. There was the motive, the premeditation,
+the deliberation, and the intent. At the conclusion of the evidence the
+prosecution would ask for a verdict of murder in the first degree.</p>
+
+<p>Candido's eyes strayed away from the young prosecutor, furtively seeking
+the corner where Maria and the child were sitting. He could not see
+them, owing to the throngs of neighbors huddled upon the benches. There
+were Petulano the baker, Felutelli the janitor, little Frederico the
+proprietor of the wine shop, Condesso, Pettalino, and Mantelli, with
+their wives, their sisters, and friends.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>"Pietro Petrosino!" called the prosecutor. A lithe youngster slipped off
+the front bench smiling and made his way behind the jury box. The jury
+brightened instinctively as they caught sight of his picturesque figure,
+the round curly head, and the flush of the deep-olive complexion.
+Candido knew him for a gambler, cock-fighter, and worse. What plot could
+be brewing now? How did it come that this man was going to be a witness
+against him? How had the prosecution got hold of him?&mdash;this scum from
+Sicily, this man who knew less than nothing of the affair.</p>
+
+<p>Pietro's black eyes sparkled innocently as he took the oath and threw
+himself gracefully across the armchair on the platform, the center of
+collective observation.</p>
+
+<p><i>O Dio!</i> He knew the defendant, yes, to his cost, he knew him! And
+Beppe, also. Alas! Poor Beppe! A fine statue of a man, a good man, a
+peaceable man! He also had been with them in the wine shop when the two
+had talked together apart from the others. No doubt Candido had had the
+pistol in his pocket at the very moment. They had whispered between
+themselves, their heads close together, "<i>like one who is being
+shriven</i>," and Beppe had kissed the hand of Ludovico in friendship.
+Ludovico had returned the caress. Then the three had walked homeward,
+and from the darkness of the hallway Candido had shot out at Beppe&mdash;shot
+him <i>come un sacco</i> (like a bag). Pietro illustrated, taking the part of
+Beppe. He whispered, he kissed an imaginary hand, he walked, he
+fell&mdash;"like a bag!"</p>
+
+<p>The jury listened entranced. It was like going to the theater, only
+better&mdash;much better, and cost nothing. Besides, afterward, they could
+turn down their thumbs or turn them up, as they might see fit. For a
+moment the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> jury saw or thought they saw the whole thing&mdash;the perfidious
+hand-kissing assassin&mdash;then&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Bugiardo!</i> <i>Bugiardo!</i>" shrieked Candido, rising hysterically and
+tearing the air in impotent rage. "Liar! Liar! He was not there! He
+knows nothing! He is an enemy!"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Silenzio!</i>" cried the fantastically bearded interpreter.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep still!" ordered a court officer, shaking the prisoner roughly by
+the shoulder. The jury were delighted. Pietro was entirely unconcerned.
+A rapid fire of Italian ran quickly along the benches.</p>
+
+<p>Ludovico subsided into a little heap, his head sunk beneath his
+shoulders, the tears coursing down his cheeks. Madonna! Would they take
+the word of an enemy? Did they not know he was a Sicilian? What other
+hidden motive might not Pietro have? Candido stiffened and again turned
+to where he knew his wife must be sitting. Ah, that wretch! He had
+noticed his looks and glances. Candido ground his teeth, then dropped
+his head upon his arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Maria Delsarto!" shouted the attendant.</p>
+
+<p>Candido shivered and groaned aloud. They were calling his own wife to
+testify against him! He grew cold with terror. There was a conspiracy to
+get rid of him. The two had a secret understanding! What if she admitted
+having seen the pistol in his hands? And his threats! Now in truth it
+was all over! He settled himself stolidly, his eyes fixed upon the
+varnished table before him.</p>
+
+<p>Maria came forward, carrying her babe in her arms&mdash;Ludovico's "<i>piccolo
+bambino!</i>" She was still young and slight; but cheeks a little sunken
+and lips a little set<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> told the story of her dire struggle with poverty.
+In her eyes glowed the beauty of her race, and their long lashes drooped
+on her pale cheeks as her lips moved automatically, repeating after the
+interpreter the words of the oath.</p>
+
+<p>Candido did not raise his own eyes. For him all desire for life had
+vanished. His wife was about to sacrifice him for a new lover, a
+Sicilian! He sat motionless. The sooner it was done the better.</p>
+
+<p>Maria let one hand lie gently on the arm of the witness chair, while
+with the other she caressed the sleeping child in her lap. Her gray
+shawl fell away from behind her head and showed a white neck around
+which hung a slender gold chain bearing a little cross. She looked
+neither at Candido nor at the jury. Then she took the little cross in
+her hand and glanced down at it.</p>
+
+<p>"Your name?" asked the prosecutor.</p>
+
+<p>"Maria Delsarto." Her voice was soft, musical, distinct.</p>
+
+<p>"You are the wife of the defendant?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, signore, and this is his child."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you remember that the day before the homicide of Montaro your
+husband brought home a revolver?"</p>
+
+<p>Candido's head disappeared beneath his arms and his body shook
+convulsively.</p>
+
+<p>"No, he had no pistol."</p>
+
+<p>The prisoner raised his eyes and shot a quick, puzzled look at his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"What?" cried the assistant. "You say he had no revolver? Did you not
+swear that you saw one and sign a paper to that effect?"</p>
+
+<p>Maria looked steadily before her. "I did not understand the paper. I saw
+no pistol." The words came quietly, positively.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>The prosecutor looked helplessly toward the judge and nervously fingered
+an affidavit.</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot impeach your own witness, Mr. District Attorney," admonished
+his honor.</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor turned again to Maria. "Did you not tell Sophia Mantelli
+that you were weeping because your husband had purchased a revolver with
+which to kill Beppe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Objected to!" shouted Flynn.</p>
+
+<p>"I will allow it," said his honor, "on the ground of refreshing memory.
+The witness may answer."</p>
+
+<p>"No," answered Maria in the same quiet voice.</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor threw down the affidavit in disgust. That was what you
+got for taking the word of one of these Italians! Well, it would be a
+lesson! No, he had no more questions. Candido began to chatter at his
+lawyer and fell to nodding and smiling at Maria, who seemed to see him
+no more than before.</p>
+
+<p>Flynn rose deliberately, cleared his throat, and elevated and stretched
+his arms as if to secure freer action, exhibiting during the operation a
+large pair of soiled cuffs.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know Pietro What's-his-name?" he inquired sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Maria flushed and her head sank toward the child. "Yes," she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"You have heard him testify that he saw the killing of Montaro?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know where he was at that time?"</p>
+
+<p>Maria's head fell so low that her face could not be seen, and her hand
+sought the cross upon her bosom.</p>
+
+<p>"Answer the question!" cried Flynn roughly.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>"He was with me when we heard the shots below." Her voice dropped to a
+whisper. "He had been there for an hour. He was not with Ludovico at
+all. He saw nothing."</p>
+
+<p>An excited chatter flew around the benches. The handsome Pietro sat
+dumfounded.</p>
+
+<p>Candido started from his chair, his face livid with passion, his eyes
+glaring. "<i>Traditrice!</i> It is thus you deceive me! It is well that I
+should die. Faithless betrayer!"</p>
+
+<p>In the hysteria of the moment he entirely overlooked the value of the
+testimony in his behalf. The attendant and the distinguished Flynn
+thrust him down, and the interpreter hurled at him a torrent of
+remonstrances. Once more the prisoner buried his face in his hands.
+Maria, still hanging her head, left the chair, and with her babe in her
+arms sought a distant corner of the court room.</p>
+
+<p>With the testimony of an officer that a button photograph of Maria had
+been found pinned inside the coat of Montaro, the prosecution closed its
+case. The assistant district attorney sat down. The jury shifted their
+positions. The distinguished Flynn rose to make motions that the case be
+taken from the jury. It was plain, he argued in sonorous and
+reverberating tones, that the prosecution had impeached its principal
+witness by the testimony of the defendant's wife, Maria Delsarto. It had
+raised a reasonable doubt on its own evidence. There was nothing upon
+which the jury could predicate a verdict. He asked that they be directed
+to acquit. Was his motion denied? With an expression of well-simulated
+surprise, he made the other stereotyped motions. The court denied them
+all.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>Candido saw and trembled. That shaking of the head could mean only one
+thing! Well, they would let him see the priest first&mdash;before they did
+it.</p>
+
+<p>"Take the chair!" came Flynn's harsh voice from above.</p>
+
+<p>"The chair!" <i>La sedia!</i> Madonna! He knew that word. So soon then? He
+stiffened with horror. A chilly perspiration broke out all over his
+body. The room swam and darkness surged across his bewildered vision.</p>
+
+<p>"Take the chair!" repeated the voice.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>La sedia!</i>" bellowed the interpreter. "<i>La sedia!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Candido shivered as with ague. His teeth chattered. <i>Dio!</i> Now?</p>
+
+<p>The attendant placed a hand upon his shoulder. Candido uttered a
+terrible cry, and fell senseless to the floor.</p>
+
+<hr class="thin" />
+
+<p>A long adjournment, a talk with the priest, an explanation from the
+interpreter, and Candido "took the chair," telling his own story in a
+fluent but listless monotone. He spoke of his father and mother, of his
+home in Calabria, of Maria whom he had known from childhood. His speech
+was soft and dejected. Then he told of Beppe&mdash;Beppe, the great, coarse,
+bullying brute who had tormented and abused him! Yet he had never
+retaliated until the other had sought to ruin his home. Then he had
+refused him access. Montaro had publicly sworn to be revenged, declaring
+that he would kill him and marry his widow.</p>
+
+<p>Candido gritted his teeth and shook his curved fingers, uttering various
+<i>staccato</i> adjectives. Then he recovered himself, and in a different
+tone began to speak slowly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> and with great care, pausing after each
+sentence. From time to time he looked to observe the effect of his
+testimony upon the distinguished Flynn. That night in the wine shop
+Montaro had called him aside and in the most insulting manner warned him
+of his approaching fate. He would be dead within a week, and Maria would
+belong to another. Then in mockery Montaro had bent over his hand as if
+to administer a caress and had <i>bitten</i> it&mdash;the deadliest of affronts.
+Candido had hurried out of the shop toward his home, closely followed by
+Montaro. At the door of the tenement his enemy had rushed upon him with
+a drawn knife from behind, and to save his own life Candido had fired at
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"He was a bad man&mdash;<i>un perfido</i>. He would have killed me and taken my
+wife from me had I not killed him," continued the defendant. As for this
+Pietro, he had not been there at all. He was an enemy, a Sicilian.</p>
+
+<p>In response to a question of the assistant, he explained that the pistol
+was an old one. He had not bought it to kill Montaro. He had had it for
+four or five years. Had procured it for safety when working on the
+railroad.</p>
+
+<p>By degrees Candido recovered from his listlessness. He no longer seemed
+careless as to the result of the case. A new strong thirst for life had
+taken possession of him. There was an air of frankness about the
+weather-beaten little countenance, and a trustful look in the brown eyes
+that served far better than "character witnesses" to convince the jury
+of his ingenuousness. There was no doubt as to his having made an
+impression.</p>
+
+<p>The distinguished Flynn patted him on the back as he took his seat and
+felt greatly encouraged. These Italians were great actors&mdash;and no
+mistake!</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 243px;"><a name="img5" id="img5"></a>
+<img src="images/image-5.jpg" width="243" height="500" alt="The distinguished Flynn burst into a deluge of
+oratory." title="" />
+</div>
+<p class="caption">&quot;The distinguished Flynn burst into a deluge of
+oratory.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But the prosecution had reserved a bombshell for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>the last, intended
+to annihilate the testimony of the defendant and neutralize the effect
+of his personality upon the jury. The assistant called in rebuttal a
+salesman from a large retail fire-arm store, who testified positively
+that the pistol in evidence had been purchased the day before the
+homicide. Flynn turned to the attendant, whom he knew well and cursed.
+These Guineas! Bought the day before! He had all the air of one who has
+been grossly and inexcusably deceived. He scowled at Candido, who
+quailed before him.</p>
+
+<p>"How long do you want to sum up, gentlemen?" inquired the court. "Will
+twenty minutes each be sufficient?"</p>
+
+<p>The distinguished Flynn burst into a deluge of oratory in which
+Self-Defense and The Unwritten Law played opposite one another, neither
+yielding precedence. His client was a hero! The instinct of every true
+American, of every husband, of every father, must stamp his deed as one
+blameless in the eyes of the Almighty, and worthy not of censure but of
+the approval of all honest men and lovers of virtue. At the risk of his
+own life he had preserved the integrity of his home and the honor of his
+wife. At the same time he had rid the community of a villain. Never,
+while the Stars and Stripes floated above their heads would an American
+jury on this sacred soil, consecrated by the blood of those who
+sacrificed their lives to liberty, etc.&mdash; He subsided, panting and
+mopping his forehead.</p>
+
+<p>The assistant rose to reply. This explanation of the defendant that he
+had killed in self-defense was the last despairing effort of a guilty
+man to escape the consequences of his horrible crime. Of course the
+prisoner's own evidence was valueless. Jealousy! Calm, calculating<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>
+jealousy! That was the key to this awful act. The tell-tale picture on
+Montaro's coat, the crimson admissions of the defendant's wife, the
+purchase of the pistol&mdash;all spoke for themselves. The prosecutor paused.</p>
+
+<p>"Sympathy is not for the assassin," he concluded. "Think rather of his
+innocent victim! On the sunny shores of Calabria sits a woman, old and
+gray, to whom this Beppe is her joy, her pride, who thinks of him by day
+working in the great America across the seas, and whose heart, as the
+time for the harvest draws near and the exiles are coming back to work
+in the fields, will beat with expectation. The others will come. Father
+will meet daughter, and mother will meet son, and they will tell of
+their life in the great country of Freedom; but for her there will be no
+gladness&mdash;her Beppe will return no more."</p>
+
+<p>The assistant sank into his seat. Candido was staring at him with wide
+eyes. He knew the <i>avvocato</i> had been talking about Calabria. Madonna!
+Would he ever see it again?</p>
+
+<p>"Gentlemen of the jury," began his honor. "I shall first define the
+various degrees of murder and manslaughter."</p>
+
+<p>The sun fell lower and lower over the Tombs as the judge continued his
+charge. The jury twisted uneasily in their chairs. Candido grew tired.
+This interminable flow of talk! Why did not the judge say what should be
+done to him at once? Millions of motes swam in the sun, and with his
+head resting on his forearms he watched them idly. He had always loved
+the sun. A warm lassitude stole over him. On Sundays he had spent whole
+mornings curled up on a bench in Seward Park with Maria and the
+<i>bambino</i> beside him. How funnily<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> the motes danced about! He smiled
+drowsily at them. Some were so tiny as to be almost invisible, and some
+were really large&mdash;if you half closed your eyes and one got near it
+seemed almost as big as a cat&mdash;fluffy like a cat. Those little, tiny
+motes would float out of nowhere into the band of sunshine and sink and
+dart across it, vanishing into nothingness. Candido amused himself by
+blowing millions of them into eternity. He himself was just like that.
+Out of the black, into the warm sun for a little while, and then&mdash;pouf!</p>
+
+<p>There was a tremendous scuffling of feet beside him, and the jury rose
+and filed out. The noise brought him back out of his dream to the
+realities again. They were going away! Judgment had been pronounced! The
+judge bowed solemnly to the retreating foreman. Again the fierce chill
+of overwhelming animal fear seized him. An officer approached. Madonna!
+He could not pass into the black like the motes, he could not! And he
+was as yet unshriven! With his frail little body vibrating like a
+framework of slender steel, he turned and faced the officer, panting
+with fear, his eyes darting fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, come along!" growled the attendant, raising his hand to seize him
+by the arm.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot die unshriven!" shrieked Candido, and flung himself furiously
+upon the officer, biting, kicking, scratching, until, nearly fainting
+from his paroxysm of terror and in a coma of exhaustion, he allowed
+himself to be carried away by three burly Irishmen.</p>
+
+<hr class="thin" />
+
+<p>"Bring up the defendant!" directed the court. The jury were already in
+and waiting for the prisoner. The Italians had all been hustled out into
+the corridor. His honor had no mind for any sort of demonstration.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> The
+light still poured through the great windows, and the sky was a deep
+sunny blue over the Tombs. Resisting, clutching at sills and railing,
+hanging by his arms, Candido was carried in and held bodily at the bar.</p>
+
+<p>"Jurors, look upon the defendant. Defendant, look upon the jurors. How
+say you, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?" asked the
+clerk grandiloquently.</p>
+
+<p>"Not guilty," answered the foreman distinctly, and with a shade of
+defiance in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen to your verdict as it stands recorded," continued the clerk,
+unaffected. "You find the defendant not guilty, and so say you all."</p>
+
+<p>"Any other charges against the prisoner?" inquired his honor.</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet," replied the assistant with sarcasm.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Candido began again. "Madonna! Save me! I confess that I killed
+Beppe, my countryman&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The bifurcated interpreter jabbered furiously at him. An expression of
+dumb amazement overspread the dusty little face.</p>
+
+<p>"You are free, acquitted, discharged; you may return to your home!"
+announced the beard dramatically, waving a hand in the direction of the
+door. The officers lowered Candido slowly to his feet. He picked up his
+hat. Abject wonder was painted upon his countenance. He gazed from the
+judge to the jury, and back again to the prosecutor.</p>
+
+<p>"Madonna! I am pardoned for killing Beppe? <i>O giudici</i>, I kiss your
+hands." He seized that of the interpreter and devoured it with kisses.
+Then with a smile he added: "Ah, you see I could not but kill him! He
+had ruined my home! He had deprived me of honor!"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 319px;"><a name="img6" id="img6"></a>
+<img src="images/image-6.jpg" width="319" height="500" alt="He caught sight of the waiting Maria." title="" />
+</div>
+<p class="caption">&quot;He caught sight of the waiting Maria.&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>The attendants faced him toward the door, and he started slowly away;
+but before he had taken half a dozen steps he caught sight of the
+waiting Maria. His face changed. Once more he turned to the interpreter
+and muttered something hoarsely beneath his breath.</p>
+
+<p>"He says," translated the interpreter, turning to the court, "that he
+would like to have his pistol."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="THE_LITTLE_FELLER" id="THE_LITTLE_FELLER"></a>THE LITTLE FELLER</h2>
+
+
+<p>Five feet high, in a suit of clothes three sizes too large for him, he
+stood in the doorway of my office impassively examining a card which he
+held in his hand and looking doubtfully about the room.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to see the assistant district attorney," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this is the right place," I answered in as encouraging a tone as
+I could assume.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to see you&mdash;to speak with you. That lawyer company&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the Legal Aid? What do you want to see me about?"</p>
+
+<p>"The little feller," he replied, taking a step forward and grasping his
+flat Derby hat firmly before him with both hands.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's the little feller&mdash;Isaac&mdash;they have arrested him for larceny." He
+spoke the words in a matter-of-fact&mdash;rather hopeful&mdash;altogether engaging
+manner.</p>
+
+<p>"Larceny, eh! How old is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Eight. But he didn't do nothin'. He was out with some bad boys, but he
+didn't do nothin' and the cop arrested him with the others. That's all.
+I came down to get him off, if I could." He smiled frankly.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>"What's your name?" I inquired, for ingenuousness of that sort is
+uncommon among the Jews.</p>
+
+<p>"Abraham Aselovitch&mdash;my father is Isidore and my mother she is Rachael
+Aselovitch."</p>
+
+<p>"And this little fellow&mdash;is he your brother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure."</p>
+
+<p>"When does his case come up?"</p>
+
+<p>"Next Monday in the Children's Court." He shifted his position.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, even if he is found guilty they will probably only send him to
+the Juvenile Asylum."</p>
+
+<p>"That's it&mdash;Juvenile Asylum. It's a bad place. I don't want him to go
+there," replied the boy with determination.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not, Abraham?" I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a bad place. He will meet bad boys there&mdash;like the ones that got
+him into trouble," he responded with an eager look.</p>
+
+<p>"It's not such a bad place," I ventured.</p>
+
+<p>"I know what it is!" he retorted fiercely. "They make criminals there.
+Good boys are put in with the bad. It makes no difference. One makes the
+other bad. Isaac is a <i>good</i> boy."</p>
+
+<p>"How about the evidence?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think they will convict him," remarked Abraham conclusively. "Those
+cops will swear to anything."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it isn't as bad as that," I answered with a smile. "Still, I'm
+afraid I can't get him off, particularly if the evidence would warrant
+his conviction. After all, perhaps the Juvenile is the best place for
+him, or maybe" (the thought struck me) "they will parole him in the
+custody of his mother."</p>
+
+<p>"No, they won't!" he cried with harsh vindictive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>ness. "She <i>wants</i> him
+to go there. The little feller, he makes too much trouble for her. She
+don't want that she should have to clean up after him. She don't want to
+have to cook for him." His eyes filled. "My mother, she has no use for
+the little feller&mdash;but he's all I've got."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you work?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure, every morning I go with my father at six o'clock, and I work all
+day until seven. Then I come home, and the little feller is lying in my
+bed and I put my arms around him and go to sleep."</p>
+
+<p>"Six until seven!" I exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that is the time my father works, and I work for him&mdash;on the
+pants."</p>
+
+<p>"My God! A sweatshop!" I murmured. "Don't you ever have any fun?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure I do. Saturdays we don't do no work an' I take the little feller
+down to Coney, an' sit on the sand all day with him. Do we have fun?
+Well, say, I guess!"</p>
+
+<p>"What does your father give you a week?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes a dollar. Sometimes a dollar and a half. Sometimes nothin'."</p>
+
+<p>"What does your father say about putting Isaac in the asylum?"</p>
+
+<p>"My father!" answered Abraham, his eyes flashing. "<i>He</i> don't want him.
+Isaac won't work. He's an <i>American</i> boy. He's only eight. He just hangs
+around the house and musses things up and won't do nothin' they tell
+him. My father would be glad to get rid of him."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if he makes all this trouble, why do you want to keep him?" I
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I love him!" responded Abraham with a sob. "He's all I've
+got&mdash;that little feller. I want him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> to grow up a good boy. If they
+don't want to take care of him, <i>I will</i>. I'll earn the money. I'll send
+him to school, maybe, by and by, and make a <i>lawyer</i> of him." Abraham
+spoke eagerly. "The old folks, my father and mother, they ain't like me
+and you, they ain't real Americans, they don't understand these things.
+All they think about is work and the synagogue. I'm up against it, I
+know. I've got to work. But the little feller&mdash;I want that little feller
+to come out on top and have a chance."</p>
+
+<p>"McCarthy," said I to the county detective assigned to the office,
+"kindly step into the next room. I want to speak to this boy alone.</p>
+
+<p>"Abraham, you are up against it, I guess. Don't you think you can go
+without the little feller for a year? I'll do what I can, but even if he
+goes up they won't keep him longer than that at the asylum, and probably
+when he comes out he'll be more of a help to your father and mother."</p>
+
+<p>The big tears stood in his eyes and he twisted his hands together as he
+answered:</p>
+
+<p>"I guess&mdash;maybe&mdash;maybe, I could give up going down to Coney for a year,
+if it was going to do him any good. Don't you think the asylum's so
+bad?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed," said I. "It's fine. He can learn to play in the band.
+He'll have a good time. Let him go."</p>
+
+<p>For an instant I thought my words had made an impression. Then the two
+tears welled over.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know&mdash;" the voice was low and passionate&mdash;"you don't know
+what it is to have nothin' but a little feller like that. And way off
+there&mdash;he would wake up in the night maybe&mdash;all alone&mdash;a little
+feller&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Abraham!" I exclaimed, "the Juvenile be hanged! I'll see the judge and
+do my best to have the little fellow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> remanded in the custody of his
+brother. And Abraham&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Where is the little feller? Out on bail?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yessir."</p>
+
+<p>I fumbled in my pocket for a dollar bill.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you be paid for to-day?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No, there's nothin' doin' to-day," he answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Had any work this week?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin' much this week. There ain't much doin' at the shop. I won't get
+paid this week."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," I continued, "the little feller is free till Monday, anyhow.
+Take him down to Coney to-morrow. And see here, Abraham, just <i>spend</i>
+that dollar. Be a good sport." He grinned. "Take the little feller along
+and sit on the sand, and if there is anything you want to see, no matter
+if it costs five cents or ten cents, you go in and see it. Have a real
+good time. Something for the little fellow to remember."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled out of his eyes a heaven-born smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind that, just do as I say. And Monday you go to court with him.
+I'll see what I can do."</p>
+
+<p>"You bet I will. I'll take the little feller down there to-morrow. You
+ought to see him, Mister. Some time I'll bring him in here."</p>
+
+<p>He shook hands and turned to open the door. As it closed behind him,
+there echoed faintly through the transom:</p>
+
+<p>"Just wait till you see that little feller!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="RANDOLPH_64" id="RANDOLPH_64"></a>RANDOLPH, '64</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0q">"For the good and the great, in their beautiful prime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through thy precincts have musingly trod&mdash;"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The roll of the national anthem died away and the veterans stood with
+bowed heads while the chaplain pronounced the benediction. Then the
+color bearer elevated the regimental flags, the drums tapped, and the
+gray-haired soldier boys, in straggling twos, marched slowly out of
+Saunders's Theater, through the flower-bedecked transept, and into the
+broad sunshine of Memorial Day. Ralph and I lingered in our seats until
+the crowd had thinned. In the flag-draped balcony above the platform the
+members of the band were hurriedly departing with their impedimenta;
+here and there little old ladies dressed in gray, were making their way
+with tardy steps toward the side exit; while all around the theater the
+open windows poured in a battery of mote-filled sunshine upon the
+deserted benches. The air was heavy with the soft fragrance of the elms
+outside, the faint odor of starched linen, of pine dust, and of flowers.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a pair for you!" whispered Ralph, as an erect old gentleman
+accompanied by a white-haired negro came up the aisle. "I wish I knew
+who they were." He offered to wager large sums, based upon his alleged
+capacity for divination, that they were an "old grad,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> a Southerner,
+probably, and his body servant&mdash;"Old Marse" and "Uncle Ned." He
+instantly saw visions of them as characters in a story he was writing
+for one of the college papers. He is an imaginative boy.</p>
+
+<p>We followed them out into the transept, and waited in the jog by the
+entrance while they made the round of the tablets, the white man reading
+the various inscriptions to his companion, who now and then would nod as
+if in recollection, and once furtively wiped his eyes with a frayed
+red-bordered silk handkerchief. The last we saw of them, they were
+picking their way across the car tracks of Cambridge Street in the
+direction of the Yard.</p>
+
+<p>All the long spring afternoon, as we lay on the grass with our backs
+against the tree trunks, pretending to study, but really only watching
+the little gray denizens of the Yard intent upon their squirrel
+business, Ralph was making up stories about "Old Marse" and "Uncle Ned."
+I don't believe the chap read a line of his Stubbs on "Medi&aelig;val
+Architecture," and he was very loath to join me when I dragged him to
+his feet and said that it was time for supper.</p>
+
+<p>Darkness had fallen when, two hours later, we joined the group of men
+gathered under the elms around the main entrance of Holworthy, where the
+Glee Club had assembled for one of its evening concerts. Everywhere the
+old buildings gleamed with light, for the examinations were on, and each
+window had its cluster of coatless occupants, who from time to time
+vociferously participated in mournful, lingering calls for "M-o-r-e."
+The odor of pipe smoke mingled with the sweet, humid breath of the grass
+and the subtle perfume of professors' gardens from distant Quincy
+Street; in the western sky a crescent moon, just peeping from behind the
+tower of Massachu<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>setts Hall, shyly nestled in the tree tops; while
+between the great elms we could look, as we lay flat upon our backs,
+into an infinity of faintly twinkling worlds. Between songs you could
+hear the creaking of the pump in front of Hollis Hall, and the tinkle of
+the cup upon its chain as it was tossed heedlessly away by the thirsty
+wayfarer after he had availed himself of its humble services. Ralph and
+I, joyously entangled in the anatomy of a dozen classmates, drank in
+with rapture the never cloying melodies of "Johnnie Harvard," "The
+Miller's Daughter," "The Independent Cadets," and "A Health to King
+Charles," none of which old favorites escaped without a second
+rendition, and it was well on to nine o'clock when with a last</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here's a health to King Charles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Fill him up</i> to the brim!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>the assemblage broke up, in spite of savage disapproval from the
+windows.</p>
+
+<p>Then only did we surrender to our miserable apprehension of the
+imminent, deadly "exam." in Fine Arts 4, and with the earnestly avowed
+purpose of really mastering the difference between a gargoyle and a
+lintel before we retired to rest, reluctantly mounted the stone steps
+recently vacated by our musical brethren. Our room was Number 10, the
+first as you go in on the right, and the flickering gaslight in the hall
+showed that the door, in accordance with inviolable custom, was still
+ajar.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a second while I light the lamp," I remarked to Ralph, and,
+feeling my way across the room to my desk, stood there fumbling for the
+matches. As I did so I was startled to hear a voice from the darkness in
+the direction of the fireplace.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>"I beg your pardon," it said. "I'm afraid I have usurped your room, but
+the door was open and its invitation was too attractive to be refused."</p>
+
+<p>The match flared up and I saw before me Ralph's "Old Marse."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;of course&mdash;certainly," I replied. He had arisen from the armchair
+in which evidently he had been listening to the singing. Then the wick
+caught, and by the increased light I saw that the man before me looked
+older than he had in the morning. His hair was almost white, and his
+face about the eyes finely wrinkled, but its expression was full of
+kindly humor, and I felt somehow that this stranger quite belonged
+there, and that it was I who was the intruder.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," he continued with a smile, "I feel that I have a certain
+right to be here. This used to be my room. Let me introduce myself.
+Curtis is my name&mdash;Curtis, '64."</p>
+
+<p>"Glad to meet you, Mr. Curtis," said I. "I'm Jarvis, 190&mdash;. Was this
+really your room? That seems an awfully long time ago."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled again.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid it seems longer ago to you than to me. Would you mind if I
+should smoke a cigar with you? I'd like to ask you some things about the
+old building."</p>
+
+<p>"Please do," said I. "And let me introduce my roommate, Ralph Hughes."</p>
+
+<p>Ralph shook hands with Mr. Curtis, and we all sat down around the
+fireplace. It seemed rather inhospitable not to be able to offer him any
+refreshments, but there was only one bottle of beer in the
+<i>papier-mach&eacute;</i> fire pail in my bedroom, and it was warm at that. Hence
+we accepted our guest's cigars with some diffidence and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> awaited his
+first interrogation. I could see that Ralph was brimming over with
+eagerness to ask about "Uncle Ned" and a hundred other things which that
+romantic ostrich of a boy had invented during the afternoon, and I felt
+quite sure that before Mr. Curtis got away he would be obliged to pay
+heavily for the temerity of his visit by being offered up upon the altar
+as a sacrifice to Ralph's bump of acquisitiveness.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mr. Curtis, "this was my room for four years. If you look
+over on the windowpane I think you'll find my name scratched on the
+glass in the lower left-hand corner. I wonder if that old picture of the
+Belvoir Fox Hunt, that I left, is still here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, was that yours?" exclaimed Ralph. He darted into the bedroom and
+unhooked a framed lithograph which had been the joy and pride of the
+occupants of the room for the past four decades. Mr. Curtis turned it
+round and pointed to his name in faded ink upon the back at the head of
+a long line of indorsements, each of which represented a temporary
+possessor.</p>
+
+<p>"The old room seems about the same. The wall-paper has been changed, but
+that big crack over by the bedroom I remember well. And there ought to
+be a bullet hole in the frame of the door."</p>
+
+<p>"A bullet hole!" exclaimed Ralph and I in unison.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mr. Curtis quietly, "a bullet hole&mdash;a thirty-two caliber, I
+should judge."</p>
+
+<p>Ralph seized the lamp and, holding it high above his head, carefully
+scrutinized the woodwork of the door.</p>
+
+<p>"There it is!" he cried eagerly. "Right in the middle; and, by George,
+there's the bullet, too! There's a story about that, I bet&mdash;isn't there?
+Who fired it? How did it get there?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>He replaced the lamp, quivering with interest.</p>
+
+<p>"A story if you like," responded Mr. Curtis, looking curiously out of
+his laughing brown eyes at my impetuous roommate. "Yes, quite a little
+story. I could hardly tell you about it unless I told you also something
+of the man who fired the shot. Did you ever hear of Randolph? Randolph,
+'64?"</p>
+
+<p>The blank look which came into our faces rendered answer unnecessary.</p>
+
+<p>"Never heard of Randolph, '64! <i>Sic fama est!</i> I suppose some Jones or
+Smith or Robinson now holds his place. Outside of Prex himself, there
+wasn't a better-known figure in my time. Why, he occupied this very
+room. He was my roommate."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he, though!" ejaculated Ralph. "How did he come to be firing a
+pistol around? Didn't he fall foul of the Yard policeman?"</p>
+
+<p>"There were no Yard policemen in those days," said Mr. Curtis.</p>
+
+<p>"What luck!" ejaculated Ralph. "Do tell us about Randolph!" he pleaded
+in the same breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. If you really wish it. I trust you fellows haven't any
+examinations to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Examinations be hanged!" exclaimed Ralph.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," began Mr. Curtis meditatively, "I remember as if it were only
+yesterday being awakened one bright September morning in '60 by the
+sound of a rich negro voice singing in time to the scuff-scuff of the
+blacking of a pair of shoes. The sound entered the open window through
+which the autumn sun was already pouring, and penetrated the stillness
+of my bedroom, over there. I sprang out of bed and, thrusting my head
+out of the window, beheld, seated comfortably upon the topmost step, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>
+comically visaged darky, clad in a pair of brown overalls and battered
+felt hat, busily engaged in putting the finishing touches to a highly
+polished pair of russet riding boots. Piled indiscriminately upon the
+sidewalk, in front of the windows of the room opposite, lay several huge
+trunks, while at the foot of the steps reposed a long wicker basket,
+before which were ranged in order of height an astonishing collection of
+riding boots and shoes of all varieties, upon which the disturber of my
+dreams had evidently been hard at work, since they shone with a luster
+glorious to behold. The negro, having critically examined the boot upon
+his arm, and evidently satisfied with its condition, arose to place it
+by the side of its mate, and in so doing caught sight of me. Instantly
+he had doffed his old gray hat and was making a grave salutation.</p>
+
+<p>"'Good mornin', suh.'</p>
+
+<p>"For a moment this vision of darky courtesy deprived me of my ordinary
+self-possession. Then his grin became contagious.</p>
+
+<p>"'I heard you singing and thought I'd look out to see who it was. Do you
+know who those trunks belong to?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Dose? Why, dose is Marse Dick's. Oh, p'r'aps you ain't met Marse
+Dick&mdash;Marse Dick Randolph, ob Randolph Hall, Virginny, suh.' He drew
+himself up with conscious pride. 'We-uns jes' come las' night. Marse
+Dick's rooms is in dar'&mdash;nodding toward the window&mdash;'en I wuz jes'
+a-lookin' ober some ob his traps. Anyt'ing I kin do fo' you, suh? Glad
+to be of any service, suh. I'se Marse Dick's boy&mdash;Moses&mdash;Moses March,
+suh.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Well, Moses,' I answered, 'I'm glad to make your acquaintance. You can
+tell Mr. Randolph that if he is going to be a neighbor of mine I shall
+call upon him at the earliest opportunity.'</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>"'Yah, suh. T'ank you, suh,' responded Moses.</p>
+
+<p>"Just then the old bell on Harvard Hall began to clamor for the morning
+chapel service, and realizing that the master of my new acquaintance
+might be unfamiliar with college regulations, I called out:</p>
+
+<p>"'You'd better wake Mr. Randolph or he'll be late for chapel.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Call Marse Dick!' exclaimed the darky in apparent horror. 'Golly, I
+darsn't call Marse Dick 'fo' ten o'clock. Why, he'd skin me alive.
+'Sides, he tole me to bring roun' Azam 'bout ten o'clock.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Azam?' I queried.</p>
+
+<p>"'Yah, suh; Azam's Marse Dick's hunter. Bes' Kentucky blood, suh. Sired
+by ole Marse's stallion Satan, out o' White Clover. Dar's a hunter fo'
+you, suh. You jes' ought ter see Marse Dick a-follerin' de hounds.
+'Scuse me, suh, fo' keepin' you a-waitin'. No, suh, t'ank you, suh; I
+won't forgit de card, suh.'</p>
+
+<p>"Hastily retiring to my bedroom I threw on my clothes and then hurried
+off to chapel. The shades of Number 9, the room across the hall, were
+still tightly drawn."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Curtis stopped and relit his cigar. The yellow sash curtains on
+their sagging wires softly bellied in the night breeze, and through the
+open windows came the distant chanting of the Institute march and the
+tinkle of the pump.</p>
+
+<p>"This very room!" repeated the old gentleman half to himself. "And this
+very window!" His voice sank dreamily and he seemed for the moment to
+have forgotten our presence. "Those were happy times. As I look back
+over the forty years, the time I spent here seems one long vista of
+glorious autumn days. The same old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> red-brick buildings; the same green
+velvet sward; that old tolling bell; the gravel walks; the pump&mdash;I
+remember there always used to be a damp place about ten feet square
+about the pump; the old creaking stairs outside this very door; the
+quiet evenings on the steps where those jolly chaps were singing; the
+long talks before this very fireplace under the lamplight with Dick; and
+then that fatal rupture with the South! How little it means to you! Why,
+it is isn't even a dream. It's just tradition. I suppose you feel
+it&mdash;you can't help feeling it. But if you had sat here, as I did, with
+the fellows going away, and the company drilling on the Delta over
+there&mdash;what do you call it now: the Delta?&mdash;and had shared the feverish
+enthusiasm which we all felt, tempered by the sorrow of losing our
+comrades; the little scenes when they went off one by one, and we gave
+each fellow a sword or some knickknack to carry with him; and the long,
+sad, anxious days when you waited breathless for news&mdash;and then, when it
+came, often as not, had felt a pang at your heartstrings because some
+fellow that you loved had got it at Bull Run, or Antietam, or Cold
+Harbor! No, you can never know what that meant, and thank God you can't.
+The rest is about the same. I see you have squirrels in the Yard now. We
+never had any squirrels. I suppose you sit in these windows and watch
+'em by the hour. Busier than you, I guess.</p>
+
+<p>"But apart from the squirrels and the new buildings, the old place is
+about the same&mdash;bigger, more imposing, of course, with its modern
+equipment of museums and laboratories and all that, and best of all that
+splendid monument with its transept full of memories. But it's not the
+same to me. It's only when I turn toward the corner by Hollis and
+Stoughton, as I did this afternoon,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> with Holden Chapel just peeping in
+between, and the big elms swinging overhead, and, shutting my ears to
+the rattle of the electric cars, listen to the sound of the same old
+clanging bell, with the sun gilding the tree trunks and slanting along
+the gravel pathways, that I can call back those dear old days. Then, it
+seems as if I were back in '61."</p>
+
+<p>In the pause which followed Ralph volunteered that we all did feel
+somewhat of the same thing, only in a minor degree. He had often
+imagined the fellows going off to the war and had wondered if it was
+anything like what he supposed. He pattered on in his own peculiar way
+trying to put our guest at ease and, as he expressed it later, to cheer
+him up. It would never have done, he averred later in his own defense,
+to let "Old Marse" get groggy over the "sunlit elms." However, Mr.
+Curtis changed the tone himself.</p>
+
+<p>"And now to come to that first time that I ever saw Randolph. I had just
+come from tea and was sauntering along the Yard in front of Stoughton
+when I became conscious that my customary place upon the steps, out
+there, had been usurped. The trunks and paraphernalia of the morning had
+disappeared, and although Moses was absent, I knew somehow that this
+could be no other than 'Marse Dick.' He was tall, with muscular back and
+shoulders, and his clothes of dark-blue serge hung on him as if they had
+grown there. His feet were encased in long-toed vermilion morocco
+slippers, and the other elements of his costume which caught my eye were
+a yellow corduroy waistcoat, very faddish for those days, and a flowing
+red cravat. A broad-brimmed black slouch hat was well pulled down over
+his eyes, while from beneath protruded a long brierwood pipe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> from which
+voluminous clouds of smoke rolled forth upon the evening air without
+causing any annoyance, so it seemed, to an enormous mastiff, who sat
+contentedly between his master's knees, blinking his eyes and thumping
+his tail in response to the caresses of the hand upon his head. As I
+drew near the dog stalked over to meet me, sniffing good-naturedly, and
+the stranger stepped down, removed his hat, and held out his hand with a
+smile of greeting.</p>
+
+<p>"'Mr. Curtis, I believe, suh?' he said in a low but agreeable drawl. 'My
+boy Moses gave me the card you were kind enough to send by him this
+morning. We are neighbors, are we not?'</p>
+
+<p>"I had rather expected to see the face of a dandy, but instead a pair of
+black eyes under almost beetling black brows burned steadily into mine.
+He looked nearer thirty than twenty, and this appearance of maturity was
+heightened by a tiny goatee. His smile was straightforward and honest,
+the forehead, under the curly black locks, low and broad, the nose
+aquiline and the skin dark and ruddy. Yes, he was a very pretty figure
+of a man&mdash;as handsome a lad as one would care to meet on a summer's
+day&mdash;part pirate, part Spanish grandee, part student, and every inch a
+gentleman. Later there were plenty of fellows who said that no man could
+dress like that (we were all soberly arrayed in those days) and be a
+gentleman; or that no one could come flaunting his horses and dogs and
+niggers into Cambridge, as Randolph undoubtedly did, and be one; or
+could parade around the Yard smoking real cigars and keep dueling
+pistols on his mantel and rum under the bed, as Dick did, and be one.
+But he was, boys, he was!</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he did talk too much about his niggers and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> his acres; too much
+about his old mansion and its flower gardens, about stables, fox-hunting
+and fiddlers&mdash;what of it? The point was that we were a lot of
+soul-starved, psalm-singing Yankees, talking through our noses and
+counting our pennies; while Randolph was a warm-hearted, hot-headed,
+fire-eating, cursing Virginian.</p>
+
+<p>"We shook hands and I joined him on the steps. It was just such a night
+as this&mdash;calm and sweet, the stars peeping through the boughs, and the
+windows shining. And that's how I like to think of him.</p>
+
+<p>"He'd never been away from home before except to go to Paris. He talked
+like a feudal baron, seeming to think that life was just one long
+holiday; that no one had to earn a living; that things in general were
+constructed by an amiable Deity solely for our delectation; and there
+was in his attitude a recklessness and disregard for established usages
+that left me totally at a loss. Imagine a fellow like myself taught to
+regard card playing, the theater, and dancing as mortal sins, with a
+father who believed in infant damnation and predestination; a fellow
+brought up to gaze in silent admiration at Charles Sumner; and who was
+allowed a silver half-dollar a week pocket money&mdash;imagine me, I say,
+sitting out there with this free-thinking, free-hating, free-handed
+slave owner! Why, I loved him with my whole heart inside of five
+minutes. God bless my soul, how my father used to frown when they told
+him about my new friend's latest escapade! But with all his freedom of
+ideas he was as simple as a child. I don't believe the fellow ever had a
+mean or an impure thought. I believe that as I believe in God.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I told him about my life&mdash;what there was to tell&mdash;and he told me
+about his; how his father had died three<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> years before, leaving him the
+owner of very large estates and a great many hundred slaves&mdash;I forget
+how many. His mother was still living down on the plantation. They were
+Roman Catholics&mdash;'Papists,' my father called them. The doctrines of the
+Church, however, didn't seem to bother him at all, that I could see. His
+father had evidently been the big man of the county, and had shared all
+his sports and studies, cramming him with the most extraordinary amount
+of miscellaneous reading and curious Chesterfieldian ideas of honor and
+manners.</p>
+
+<p>"I can remember, now, just how he described the old place to me, sitting
+out there on the steps. He thought it the finest home in all the land.
+Perhaps it was. I never had the heart to go there afterwards. One thing
+I remember was a grand old garden laid out in terraces, the walks
+bordered by box two hundred years old and as high as your head, where
+little red and green snakes curled up and sunned themselves&mdash;a garden
+full of old-fashioned flowers and fountains and sundials, and a water
+garden, too, with lilies of every sort; and there was a family graveyard
+right on the place where they had all been buried&mdash;where his father had
+been&mdash;with a ghost&mdash;a female ghost&mdash;named Shirley, I recall that, who
+flitted among the trees on misty mornings. Oh, it was a great picture!
+I'll never see that old place. Perhaps it's just as well. It couldn't
+have been as beautiful as he painted it. You see I'd been born in a
+twenty-one-foot red-brick house on Beacon Hill.</p>
+
+<p>"Then as we were sitting there on the steps, I broad awake but in
+fairyland, out from under the trees shuffled Moses's quaint, crooked
+figure. Wanted to know if eb'ryt'ing was all right with young Marse.
+Azam and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> Bhurtpore was fixed first-class, suh. An' he'd done got a
+little cubby-hole down in the stable to sleep in. Wuz dere any orders
+to-night, suh? An' what time should he bring Azam roun' in de mornin'?</p>
+
+<p>"'Go 'long with Moses, Jim,' said Randolph. The dog obediently arose,
+stretched himself, and descended the steps.</p>
+
+<p>"'Good night, Marse Dick,' said Moses.</p>
+
+<p>"'Good night, Moses,' replied Dick. And the two, the darky and the dog,
+disappeared under the shadow of the elms."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Curtis knocked the ash from his extinct cigar and relit it at the
+top of the lamp chimney.</p>
+
+<p>"I should just like to have seen him," remarked Ralph enthusiastically.
+"And to think that he really lived in this room. How did that happen?
+And which bedroom did he have?"</p>
+
+<p>"The one on the left, nearest the door," replied Mr. Curtis.</p>
+
+<p>Over in Stoughton some fool was strumming a banjo, singing "I'm a
+soldier now, Lizette"&mdash;rottenly. And some one else, of the same mind as
+myself apparently, leaned out of the window in the room above us and
+holloed:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, quit that! Try being a freshman a while! Lizette won't care."</p>
+
+<p>Evidently the singer decided to follow the advice thus gratuitously
+given, for the banjo ceased. Then came one of those long silences when
+you felt instinctively that in a moment something might happen to spoil
+the excellent opportunity of it, throw us off the key as it were, or
+break its placid surface like an inconsequent pebble. But Ralph, in a
+singularly moderate tone, as if leading the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> theme gently that it might
+not become startled and break away, continued:</p>
+
+<p>"You said something about dueling pistols, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Curtis looked at him with that same quizzical smile which my
+roommate had called forth before.</p>
+
+<p>"That's it. All you want is gunpowder, treason, and plot. My feeble
+attempt at character sketching has been a failure. Well, now to your
+dessert."</p>
+
+<p>"You are entirely wrong," said Ralph, rather mortified. "Randolph must
+have been a perfect corker. I wish we had some chaps like that in 19&mdash;.
+But the Southerners nowadays all seem to go to Chapel Hill, or William
+and Mary, or Tulane, or some of those God-forsaken places where I don't
+believe they even have a ball nine. Only, naturally, I wanted to make
+sure of the bullet hole. You see," he added cunningly, "that bullet hole
+is the thing that links us together. That's how we'll know when you've
+gone that it wasn't all a dream."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Curtis laughed outright.</p>
+
+<p>"You're a funny boy," said he. "Well, two or three days later I asked
+Randolph to room with me. The matter was easily adjusted, and Moses
+spent nearly a week in fixing up this den here with what he called
+'Marse Dick's contraptions.' Save the old picture there, there's not a
+thing in the place that suggests the room as it looked then. From
+extreme meagerness, if not poverty, of furniture it sprang into
+opulence&mdash;almost ornately magnificent it seemed to me with my
+conservative New England tastes and still more conservative New England
+pocketbook. I remember a silver-mounted revolver was always lying on one
+end of the mantelpiece, while in the center was a rosewood case of
+pistols, curious affairs,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> with long octagonal barrels, and stocks
+inlaid with mother-of-pearl and silver.</p>
+
+<p>"Randolph soon became a celebrity. He could no more avoid being the most
+conspicuous figure in Cambridge than he could help addressing his
+acquaintances as 'suh.' And in spite of his natural reserve, a quality
+which was curiously combined with entire ease in conversation, he soon
+acquired a large acquaintance and rather a following.</p>
+
+<p>"Needless to say, I became his almost inseparable companion. Dick's
+second hunter, Bhurtpore, had been placed entirely at my service, and
+scarce a day passed that autumn without our scouring the country roads
+for miles around, followed by three or four of the hounds. Jim, the
+mastiff, while we were absent on these excursions, spent his time lying
+beneath the ebony table in 10 Holworthy awaiting our return.</p>
+
+<p>"Randolph tried unsuccessfully to organize a hunt. It soon appeared that
+Azam and Bhurtpore were the only hunters in Cambridge, and polo had not
+yet been introduced into this country. Frequently we would take a circle
+of twenty miles in the course of an afternoon, galloping up quiet old
+Brattle Street, out around Fresh Pond, until we struck the Concord
+turnpike, which we followed over Belmont Hill, down past an old yellow
+farmhouse with blue blinds, at the juncture of the highway to Lexington
+and what we called the 'Willow Road,' and then under the overarching
+boughs, through soggy fields full of bright clumps of alders, until the
+fading light of the afternoon warned us that it was time to turn our
+horses' heads in the direction of Cambridge."</p>
+
+<p>"We have a Polo Club," said Ralph, "but we haven't any horses."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>"Well, now, to get down to your bullet hole," continued Mr. Curtis.
+"Hazing, of course, was an ordinary affair, and it was not uncommon to
+see a pitched battle of fisticuffs going on behind some college
+building.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, mind you, the hazing was not done by the best men, but by the
+worst, and it was always the tougher elements in the sophomore class
+that availed themselves of this method of showing that they were feeling
+their oats. Every one of us looked forward, sooner or later, to getting
+his dose, and any freshman who smoked cigars and kept a nigger might
+have expected it as a matter of course. But Dick was a chap that did
+just as he pleased, and did it with such a confounded air&mdash;the '<i>bel
+air</i>,' you know&mdash;that you'd have thought we were all a parcel of
+cavaliers walking in a palace garden. I don't blame them for feeling
+that he ought to be taken down a peg, when you take everything into
+consideration.</p>
+
+<p>"For example, imagine his kissing old Mrs. Podridge's hand at a faculty
+tea! Of course the antiquated thing liked it, but it was so conspicuous.
+And worse than all, inviting Prex into his room to have a cigar and a
+glass of Madeira! Think of that! The queer part of it was that Prex
+nearly accepted the invitation.</p>
+
+<p>"'Why not?' said Dick, in answer to my expostulation. 'Do you mean that
+in the North one gentleman cannot, without criticism, extend to another
+the hospitality of his own room?'</p>
+
+<p>"It was all in the point of view. What could you say?</p>
+
+<p>"Some carping fellows spread a canard that Randolph was trying to
+introduce slavery into Cambridge. Dick did not even notice it
+sufficiently to direct Moses to display his manumission papers. Of
+course there was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> a deal of talking about him, mostly good-natured
+chaff, and had it not been for Watkins I doubt if anything would have
+happened. This person was an ill-conditioned, dissatisfied fellow who
+had come from a small town in Rhode Island with a considerable amount of
+the initial velocity arising out of local prestige, which, wearing off,
+left him in a miserable state of doubt as to what to do to rehabilitate
+himself in the garments of distinction. As you would say, he 'had it in'
+for Randolph for no reason in the world. Dick was just too good-looking,
+too prosperous, too independent&mdash;that was all. He had an idea, I
+suppose, that if he could knock the statue off its pedestal he might
+perhaps occupy the vacant situation.</p>
+
+<p>"One evening I inquired carelessly of Randolph what he should do if the
+sophomores tried to haze him. He replied, nonchalantly, that he should
+exercise the sacred right of self-defense as circumstances might
+require. If anyone tried to interfere with him he must take the
+consequences. In certain situations the only thing to do was to shoot
+your aggressor. I looked up to see if he were joking, but his face was
+entirely serious.</p>
+
+<p>"Another chap who was sitting there laughed and slapped his knee. I can
+see now that it was just this kind of thing that gave Randolph's enemies
+some color for saying that he was a sort of crazy fool. Perhaps I was
+playing Sancho Panza to his Don Quixote, after all.</p>
+
+<p>"Presently a lot of other fellows joined us, and by the time Moses
+appeared we had disposed of a couple of bottles of old Port, from under
+Dick's bed, and were loudly declaiming our loyalty to the Old Dominion
+and consigning the class of '63 to eternal torment. In the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> midst of the
+uproar some one grabbed Moses and shoved him upon the steps, shouting
+'Speech! Speech!' What put the idea into his head I can't
+imagine&mdash;probably antislavery speeches in the square which he had
+overheard.</p>
+
+<p>"'Gem'men,' he began, 'I'se not 'customed ter makin' speeches outa
+meetin', 'specially ter gem'men like you-all, but I'se got suthin' I'se
+been a-studyin' ober an' what's a-worryin' me, what I'd like ter say.
+It's des' 'bout Marse Dick. I des' come from down de street whar I done
+hear some gem'men a-speechifyin' 'bout him an' me. Dey says' (his voice
+rose indignantly) 'dat Marse Dick didn't hab no business fo' ter hab me
+here. Dat he didn't hab no right ter hab me work fo' him nohow, or Old
+Marse; an' dey calls Marse Dick some mighty mean names. Now I des' 'ud
+like ter know ef I ain't Marse Dick's boy an' why he ain't got no right
+fo' ter hab me work fo' him. Didn't I work fo' Old Marse 'fo' he died,
+an' didn' my ole man work fo' him, an' ain't I allus been a-workin' fo'
+Ole Miss and Missy Dorothy? Him an' me's been bred up togedder; I'se
+been a-totin' with him eber since he wuz born, ain't I, Marse Dick?'</p>
+
+<p>"He paused amid a dead silence. None of us spoke. I looked at Randolph
+and saw that he was gripping his pipe hard between his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"'Well, gem'men, I doesn't want leab Marse Dick, ef I is a free nigger,
+an' I doesn't want you ter let 'em tek me away from him, cuz he got no
+one else ter look out fo' him, an' Azam an' Bur'pore an' de dogs, an'
+Ole Miss say when I lef' de Hall how I was neber to leab Marse
+Dick&mdash;nohow. An', gem'men, you won't let 'em, will yer?'</p>
+
+<p>"He waited for our assurance. Oh, the constraint of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> generations of New
+England character! It was so difficult for us to say what we felt. Dick
+was staring out under the trees with glistening eyes. Some fellow made a
+few halting remarks and said we'd stick up for him and Moses to the last
+man, and then we all pounded Moses on the back, and Dick got out some
+more Port and we had another toast, but something had hit us hard."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Curtis closed his eyes and leaned back his head for a moment as if
+trying to recall some forgotten memory.</p>
+
+<p>"The next evening," he continued presently, "we were both sitting before
+the fire. Jim lay as usual beneath the table, his head pointing toward
+the door. The lamps had not yet been lit and the windows, I remember,
+were open, for the day had been warm&mdash;one of those Cambridge
+Indian-summer days. From the lower end of the Yard came a confused
+murmur of voices, mingled with occasional shouts. The voices grew
+louder, and shortly there came a loud cheer, followed by the tramp of
+many feet. I stepped to the window and saw through the dusk a cluster of
+men moving slowly up the sidewalk by Massachusetts Hall. In a moment I
+realized that the time might be at hand for the application of my
+roommate's recently declared principles. With a distinct feeling of
+apprehension I drew in my head and was about hurriedly to suggest a
+walk, when there came the sound of flying feet, and Moses, with scared
+face and starting eyes, burst into the room.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, Marse Dick,' he cried in a trembling voice, 'dey's a-comin' ter
+kill yer an' tek me away from yer. Dey's goin' ter hurt yer drefful!
+Doan' let 'em do it, Marse Curtis!'</p>
+
+<p>"Dick had risen quietly and was now engaged in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> lighting the lamp upon
+the center table, while I shut and locked both door and windows. Jim got
+up from his place beneath the table and watched us uneasily. The noise
+of the crowd grew nearer. Then suddenly I heard a sharp click behind me
+and turned to see Randolph holding one of the silver-mounted pistols
+which he had taken from its case upon the mantel. He was calmly engaged
+in loading.</p>
+
+<p>"'Look here, Dick!' I cried, 'for Heaven's sake put that back!'</p>
+
+<p>"Before I could say another word our assailants entered the hallway of
+the building. There came a babel of voices, followed by a loud pounding
+upon the door. We returned no answer. Then there were shouts of:</p>
+
+<p>"'Run him out!'</p>
+
+<p>"'Liberty forever!'</p>
+
+<p>"'No slaves in Harvard!'</p>
+
+<p>"'Smash in the door!'</p>
+
+<p>"This last suggestion was accompanied by a yell and a rush against the
+door, which swayed inward, and, the lock snapping, burst open. There was
+an instant's hesitation on the part of the men outside; then they began
+to surge through the narrow doorway. Randolph quickly raised his pistol.</p>
+
+<p>"'Back!' he shouted. 'Leave the room!' Instinctively they retreated. I
+can see them now, crowding out through the doorway. Just here, where I
+am sitting, in the full light of the lamp, stood Randolph, the barrel of
+his pistol glistening wickedly. There was a cold gleam in his eyes and a
+drawn look about his mouth. Before him stood Jim, tail switching, and
+lips curled back in a snarl that showed all his sharp teeth, while in
+the background cowered Moses, fear pictured upon every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> feature, his
+eyeballs gleaming white in the shadowy doorway of the bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>"'I warn you, gentlemen,' said Randolph haughtily. 'I order you to leave
+the room. I shall shoot the first man that crosses my threshold.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Bosh!' cried a voice. 'Hear him!'</p>
+
+<p>"'D&mdash;&mdash;d slave owner!' shouted another.</p>
+
+<p>"'Throw him out!'</p>
+
+<p>"Watkins thrust himself forward.</p>
+
+<p>"'Bah! I'm not afraid of any rum-drinking Southerner! He hasn't the
+nerve to shoot!'</p>
+
+<p>"'Look out!' called some one.</p>
+
+<p>"There was a sudden rush from outside and Watkins either sprang or was
+pushed, probably the latter, through the door. At the same instant there
+was a flash, a report, a snarl, a loud cry, a tumult of feet. The smoke
+cleared slowly away, showing the door empty. Across the threshold lay a
+sophomore, while over him stood Jim, motionless, with his feet on the
+man's chest and his teeth close to his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Randolph laid the smoking pistol upon the table and pointed grimly to a
+splintered crack in the strip above the door.</p>
+
+<p>"'Come here, Jim!' he called. The dog unwillingly drew away, still eying
+the man on the floor, who, finding himself unhurt, began to blubber
+loudly.</p>
+
+<p>"'You are free, suh,' remarked Randolph scornfully. 'Don't let me detain
+you.'</p>
+
+<p>"Watkins slowly and fearfully scrambled to his feet, and then, like a
+flash, vanished into the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>"'Golly, Marse Dick,' exclaimed Moses in an awestruck voice, 'I thought
+you'd killed that gem'man, sho'!'</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 336px;"><a name="img7" id="img7"></a>
+<img src="images/image-7.jpg" width="336" height="500" alt="&#39;Back,&#39; he shouted." title="" />
+</div>
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;Back,&#39; he shouted.&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>"'Give us a glass of brandy, Moses!' said his master, extinguishing the
+light. 'Where are they, Jack?'</p>
+
+<p>"I raised the window and looked out. The sophomores were gathered in an
+excited group about Jim's victim, gazing at our window, and talking
+loudly among themselves. Randolph reloaded the pistol and stepped to the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>"'Pleased to see you at any time, gentlemen,' he said. 'But just now I
+want to go to bed and don't like noise. Don't let me keep you. While I
+sometimes miss a single bird I'm not so bad at a covey. Now off with
+you!'</p>
+
+<p>"Again he whipped up the pistol into position. It looked even more
+wicked in the starlight than it had done inside. With one accord the
+crowd broke and ran, Watkins well in the lead.</p>
+
+<p>"Randolph came inside, lighted the lamp, and tossed off the brandy.</p>
+
+<p>"'By Gad, suh,' he drawled with a laugh. 'They really thought they were
+going to be murdered. You Yankees don't seem gifted with any sense of
+humor. Here, Moses, run around to my friends' rooms and give them my
+compliments and invite them all to the tavern for a bowl of punch.'"</p>
+
+<p>Ralph clapped his hands together.</p>
+
+<p>"Right in this very room!" he cried, "right in this room!" Then he
+jumped to his feet and again critically examined the door. "Just as
+fresh as ever!" he remarked delightedly. "Why, but that Randolph was a
+ripper! And to think it all happened right between these four walls and
+we never have heard a word about it before!"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell us some more about him," said I. "What did the faculty say?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>"The faculty considered the case," replied Mr. Curtis, "but we never
+heard from them in regard to it. Of course the story got all around the
+college and Watkins was unmercifully guyed. But he had his turn."</p>
+
+<p>"How was that?" inquired Ralph. "Do go on."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," returned Mr. Curtis. "What do you think of Randolph?"</p>
+
+<p>"The best ever!" pronounced Ralph with conviction.</p>
+
+<p>"It's hard to resist such an enthusiastic audience&mdash;and so insistent,"
+smiled Mr. Curtis. "Well, they let him alone after that, and he pursued
+the even tenor of his way and increased in wisdom and stature and in
+favor&mdash;at least with man.</p>
+
+<p>"I can only tell you about Randolph's leaving college, and that takes me
+to those sadder times of which I spoke. It was late in the spring, when
+none of us had any longer time or inclination to think of college
+distinctions or college jealousies. We were all overwhelmed at the
+thought of the impending conflict. Already most of the Southerners had
+departed for their homes.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, I'm trying to give you an impression&mdash;a picture of a chap I
+believe to have been one of the truest gentlemen that ever came here&mdash;I
+feel you're entitled to know whose room it is you occupy and to share in
+these memories, which are, after all, the best thing left in my lonely
+old bachelor existence. When I tell you the rest and how we parted never
+to meet again you won't be able to get a true understanding of it unless
+you can grasp the real spirit of the times, the environment, the
+intensity of the whole affair.</p>
+
+<p>"Here I was rooming with a flamboyant Southerner who fully intended to
+enlist as soon as his native State should declare herself, when four of
+my uncles had al<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>ready joined the Union army. Of course I wanted to go,
+but my father wouldn't hear of it. The whole miserable business only
+drew Randolph and me the closer together. I do not think that his
+performance with the pistol had increased his popularity; in fact, the
+sympathies of the undergraduates seemed on the whole to be with Watkins,
+and the general sentiment that he was the aggrieved party. If Dick had
+taken his medicine in good part it would doubtless have been better for
+him in the end. You see, it gave his slanderers a handle and they made
+the most of it. Neither did he abate any of those idiosyncrasies of
+which I have spoken, but simply out of bravado, I suppose, rather let
+himself go. His cravats increased in brilliancy, his waistcoats
+multiplied their colors, and he was always careering around on Azam
+through the Yard and Harvard Square. He had a trick of riding suddenly
+out of nowhere, and appearing at recitations on horseback, turning his
+beast over to Moses at the door until the lecture had concluded. I have
+known Randolph at this period to keep his horse waiting an hour in order
+that he might ride him the length of the Yard. Don't get the impression
+that I am criticising him unfavorably; I am merely endeavoring to give
+you the point of view of the outsiders who didn't like him. By April the
+class was pretty evenly divided on the Randolph question. To half of us
+he was a rather Quixotic hero&mdash;to the rest a sort of cheap <i>poseur</i>.
+Watkins was untiring in his innuendoes, and in this he was aided to a
+considerable extent by the bitterness of the feeling between North and
+South. Of course, everything possible was being done to conciliate the
+Southern States, and it was the aim of the entire North to avert if
+possible an open rupture. At the theaters the most popular music<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> was
+the old Southern airs and plantation melodies, and the audiences
+conscientiously cheered when 'Dixie' was played. Naturally this was
+vastly gratifying to Randolph, who failed, it seemed to me, to realize
+its significance. I don't think that anyone really believed actual
+hostilities would occur.</p>
+
+<p>"Then like a lash across our faces came the firing on Sumter. The whole
+North gasped and then the blood boiled in our veins. Right here under
+these trees the war fever burned hottest.</p>
+
+<p>"That night will never be forgotten by the class of '64. A huge
+gathering of students filled the Yard, lights twinkled in all the
+windows, torches flared here and there among the tree trunks, while
+between Stoughton Hall and where Thayer now stands, just in front of
+these very windows, the fellows concentrated in a solid mass, cheering
+the Union again and again, as flights of rockets burst high above the
+trees, sending down their floating canopies of sparks. Into that big
+elm, out there, some of the seniors were hoisting a transparency,
+bearing upon one side the words, 'The Constitution and Enforcement of
+the Laws,' and upon the other, 'Harvard for War.'</p>
+
+<p>"I was sitting in this window&mdash;Randolph in that. Perhaps I should have
+been out on the grass shouting with the others, but the loneliest fellow
+in Cambridge was at my side. Poor old chap! No wonder he was gloomily
+silent. Outside the cheering continued and the rockets roared away over
+the tops of the old buildings, until the students, forming into an
+irregular procession, marched away singing patriotic airs, some to go to
+their rooms, but most to pass the remainder of the evening at the
+tavern, discussing the President's proclamation.</p>
+
+<p>"Dick got up quietly and came over to the window.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> 'Jack,' he said
+sadly, 'the game's about up with me. I can't stay here any longer. Now
+that war is an actuality, I must go home, and the sooner the better.'</p>
+
+<p>"'But Virginia hasn't seceded,' I answered, 'and most likely won't. If
+she does there will be time enough for you to go.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Virginia <i>will</i> secede,' he replied, 'and blood will be shed in this
+cursed quarrel within two weeks. I can't stay here when I might be at
+home helping on the cause. I shall think you are acting from interested
+motives,' he added, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"'What does your mother say?'</p>
+
+<p>"'That's the trouble. She wants me to stay.'</p>
+
+<p>"I read the letter which he handed me. It was plain enough. The good
+lady desired to keep her only son out of harm's way just as long as
+possible, although through it all I could perceive her consciousness of
+the futility of any idea of preventing a Randolph from taking an active
+part, in the event of the secession of his native State. I urged
+parental duty and the foolishness of taking for granted something that
+might not happen at all. He, of course, was keen for fighting anyhow,
+but he was prepared to stand by his State's decision.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, you couldn't blame a woman for wanting to keep her only son
+from throwing his life away. From the very first I had a presentiment
+that that was what it would amount to, and I was for doing all I could
+to help her carry out her purpose.</p>
+
+<p>"But as the days dragged on it became harder and harder to keep Randolph
+in Cambridge. You see, by that time he was practically the only
+Southerner left there, and he found himself in a strangely awkward, not
+to say painful, position. Even some of his friends, while<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> their manner
+toward him remained the same, ceased to come as frequently to our room.</p>
+
+<p>"We kept trying to deceive ourselves all along about the seriousness of
+the crisis. None of us did much studying&mdash;Randolph, none at all. He rode
+about the country or sat in his room reading his last letters from the
+Hall, fretting to get away from Cambridge. Nor did his continued
+presence pass uncommented upon by the more fiery of our student
+patriots.</p>
+
+<p>"Several anonymous letters suggesting that his presence in Cambridge was
+undesirable had been left at his room, while, quite accidentally of
+course, it frequently happened that the sidewalk in front of our windows
+was selected as the forum for vehement denunciation of the South, of
+slavery and slaveholders. Randolph gripped his pipe grimly between his
+teeth and held his head higher than ever. Once he actually tried to
+address a meeting in front of the post office on the Inherent Right of
+Secession. But he was groaned down. While few of us had been
+Abolitionists we were now all Unionists, and '<i>Harvard was for war</i>.'</p>
+
+<p>"After this experience I noticed a change in his demeanor, for there
+were among that shouting, hissing crowd several who had been his
+friends. Although he must have known that Virginia's supposed loyalty
+was but a pretext on the part of his mother to keep him out of danger,
+his devotion to her was such that he remained without a word to bear the
+whips and scorns of time and the humiliation of his position, waiting
+manfully until the official action of the government of Virginia should
+set him free.</p>
+
+<p>"It must have been exquisite torture for a chap of his high spirit to be
+obliged to hear his principles and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> those of his father denounced on
+every side, and the South that he really loved with all his heart
+charged with treachery and infidelity.</p>
+
+<p>"In those days the top story of Dane was used by the upper classmen and
+the members of the Law School as a debating hall, their discussions
+being frequently marked by personalities and a bitterness of invective
+unparalleled even in the national Senate and House of Representatives.
+After the firing upon Sumter these meetings grew more and more
+turbulent, and were held almost daily.</p>
+
+<p>"Randolph had at last made up his mind that he would wait but a week
+longer at the latest, and had notified his mother of his decision. He
+intended to leave Cambridge on April 18th, and nothing that I could say
+had been able to shake his determination. I am inclined to believe that
+the action of Virginia on the question of secession would not have made
+any difference to him at this time. We had watched the departure of the
+Sixth and Eighth Massachusetts regiments for Washington, and you can
+easily imagine how irksome his enforced inaction must have been. All his
+arrangements had been completed and he and Moses were to leave Boston on
+an early morning train for the South.</p>
+
+<p>"The morning of the 17th dawned clear and brilliant. I left Dick and
+Moses packing books and dismantling the room, and walked across the Yard
+to a recitation in Massachusetts Hall. After that I remember I attended
+a lecture in some scientific course, chemistry, I believe, in
+University, and about eleven o'clock wandered over to the square to see
+if there were any fresh war bulletins. A group of excited people was
+gathered about the telegraph office gesticulating toward a strip<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> of
+foolscap pasted in the window, and it was really unnecessary for me to
+push my way among them and read what was written there: '<i>Virginia
+secedes</i>.' The words had almost a familiar look&mdash;we had waited for them
+so long.</p>
+
+<p>"With the intention of telling Randolph the news I hurried across the
+square. I did not get far, however. Just on the other side, tethered to
+a post in front of the door of Dane Hall, stood Azam. He whinnied when
+he saw me, for by this time we were old friends. His presence there
+could only mean that Dick was inside, and with a qualm of apprehension I
+pushed open the door and started up the stairs. From above came the hum
+of voices followed by confusion and silence. Then as I reached the
+landing I caught the tones of a familiar voice&mdash;Randolph's&mdash;and hurrying
+up the flight leading to the second story breathlessly opened the door
+into the hall. It was packed with students and hot almost to
+suffocation, while the grins on most of the faces of those near me
+showed plainly the state of their feelings toward the speaker.</p>
+
+<p>"In the middle of the room, in a sort of cleared space, stood Randolph,
+dressed with his customary braggadocio in riding boots, spurs, and
+gauntlets. Whip and hat lay before him on the floor. The crowd were
+jeering, and his face was flushed with an angry red&mdash;a thing I'd never
+seen before.</p>
+
+<p>"'Virginia has seceded,' he shouted, challenging the whole room with a
+defiant glance. 'I thank God for it! Had she remained three days longer
+in the Union I should have felt my native State humiliated. She has been
+the last to take up the sword against oppression. Now may she be the
+last to lay it down. For the last decade the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> rights of Virginia and of
+the South have been trampled under foot. She has borne slander and
+insult. She has bowed to an unlawful interpretation of the Constitution
+and unjust administration of the laws. She has seen her lawful property
+snatched from her outstretched hands. They tell me she has rebelled&mdash;I
+rejoice that Virginia has resisted! Who dares say that a sovereign
+State, who by her assent alone was joined to a union of other States,
+has not the right to separate herself from them when such a partnership
+has become intolerable!'</p>
+
+<p>"He was being continually interrupted by hisses and groans and sarcastic
+comments from all sides, but he continued unabashed:</p>
+
+<p>"'Do you realize that you who once threw off the yoke of England have
+yourselves become oppressors and are trampling the sacred rights of
+others wantonly under foot? That you have become destroyers of liberty?
+Virginia!&mdash;Virginia&mdash;' His voice broke. Absurdly theatrical as it all
+was, I believe he had some of the fellows with him. Then Watkins
+shouted:</p>
+
+<p>'She is a traitor!'</p>
+
+<p>"'That's a lie!' replied the orator fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>"I never quite knew how Watkins had the nerve, but I suppose he thought
+that Randolph was down and out, and he may have really believed that
+poor Dick was just a swaggering braggart, after all. Anyhow, before any
+of us realized what had happened, he had sprung forward and struck
+Randolph in the face with his cap, exclaiming:</p>
+
+<p>'Take that, you <i>Reb</i>!'</p>
+
+<p>"An extraordinary stillness fell upon us. I thought for a moment that
+Randolph would fall, for he turned deathly pale and his hands twitched
+as if he were going to have an epileptic fit. He swayed, recovered
+himself,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> tried to speak, choked, and finally said in a hoarse whisper:</p>
+
+<p>"'I suppose you understand what that means?'</p>
+
+<p>"Then in the silence he stooped, picked up his whip and hat, and looking
+straight before him strode out of the hall. I followed automatically.</p>
+
+<p>"The door behind us shut out a tremendous roar of laughter, in which
+could be distinguished cries of 'You're done for now, Watkins!' 'Better
+make your will, old chap!' We were hardly clear of the building before
+the whole meeting adjourned with a rush, pounding down the stairs with
+such impetuosity that it is a wonder they didn't carry the rickety
+structure along with them.</p>
+
+<p>"Shades of John Harvard and Cotton Mather! A duel was to be fought in
+Harvard College! The rumor flew from the college pump to the tavern; it
+sprang from lip to lip&mdash;from window to window; sneaked by professors'
+houses in silence; and burst into garrulity upon the steps of Hollis and
+Stoughton. If you had asked one from the jocular groups gathered in
+front of the different buildings and upon the gravel paths what was to
+pay, he would probably have replied with a twinkle in his eye,
+'<i>Virginia has seceded.</i>'</p>
+
+<p>"I must confess to you that I felt like a fool. It was the same feeling
+that I had experienced in a lesser degree when my cavalier had kissed
+the hand of old Mrs. Podridge, but now it was clear I was playing Sancho
+Panza in earnest. I had followed Dick to the room and pleaded with him
+in vain. He was impervious to argument. There could be only one thing
+done under the circumstances. There was no question about it at all. He
+failed utterly to comprehend my alleged attitude in the case, or at any
+rate pretended to do so. Why hadn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> he thrashed Watkins then and there?
+Simply because by so doing he'd have made himself nothing more nor less
+than a common brawler. It was not a case of a street fight, but of
+insulting a man's honor.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I might have thrown him over. But somehow I couldn't leave
+Randolph to face the music all alone, and I knew well enough that
+laughter would be far harder for him to bear than the actual hatred or
+disapproval of his associates. And then he was going away the following
+morning and I might never see him again.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd hoped, and in fact expected, that Watkins would laugh in my face
+when I submitted Randolph's challenge. It would have been quite in
+keeping with the fellow's character and past performances, but he took
+the wind entirely out of my sails by the gravity with which he listened
+to what I had to say, and unhesitatingly chose '<i>pistols at twenty
+paces</i>.' Up to that time I'd felt merely that Dick had made an ass of
+himself and had rather unnecessarily dragged me into it, but now the
+other aspect of the thing&mdash;that I might become the accessory to a
+homicide&mdash;caused me a feeling of revolt against having anything to do
+with the affair.</p>
+
+<p>"I completed my arrangements with Watkins's second, a fellow named
+Scott, as quickly as possible, leaving to him most of the details. And
+then Dick and I took a long ride together in the country, supping at a
+farmhouse and not reaching home until after nine o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>"Randolph roused me from fitful slumbers early next morning by holding
+the lamp to my face, and I saw that he was fully dressed.</p>
+
+<p>"'You haven't been to bed at all!' I cried in reproach.</p>
+
+<p>"'I had no time. I've been writing,' he replied, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> he replaced the
+lamp in the study. A dim suggestion of the dawn came through the
+windows, and the complete silence was broken only by the snapping of the
+fire which Moses had kindled and over which he was boiling coffee. While
+I hurried into my clothes Dick re&euml;ntered my room with a packet in his
+hand and sat down upon the bed.</p>
+
+<p>"'Jack,' said he, cheerily enough, 'of course there's no use disguising
+things. The beggar may wing me, and if anything happens I want you to
+take this to my mother. I'd like you to have the horses and&mdash;and Jim.
+You'll see that Moses gets back, won't you?'</p>
+
+<p>"O Dick!' I almost sobbed. 'Of course I'll do exactly as you say, but
+it's not too late, and perhaps Watkins will apologize or agree to fight
+it out with fists. What's the use of shooting at each other?'</p>
+
+<p>"'You can't understand!' he sighed. 'Well, here's the packet. Don't
+forget now.' He began to whistle 'Dixie' and oil his pistols. Two years
+later I learned that his father had been killed in a duel at Paxton
+Court House.</p>
+
+<p>"'Coffee's ready,' announced Moses. 'Look out, Marse Curtis, it's hot.'
+He laid two smoking cups upon the table, and Dick poured a finger of
+brandy into each.</p>
+
+<p>"'To the cause!' said he with a gay laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"'To the cause!' cried I.</p>
+
+<p>"And we drained them&mdash;each to his own.</p>
+
+<p>"From a distant steeple came four widely separated and mournful notes.</p>
+
+<p>"'We must be off!' exclaimed Dick, throwing on his greatcoat. 'Have the
+horses at the bridge, Moses, in twenty minutes.'</p>
+
+<p>"He thrust his pistol into his pocket and linking his arm through mine
+led me into the Yard. A cold mist<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> hung over the lawn and the red
+buildings looked black in the vague light. A silence as of the grave was
+everywhere. At certain angles the windows looked out like blank,
+whitish, dead faces.</p>
+
+<p>"'On a morning like this,' remarked Dick, 'my great-aunt Shirley should
+be about. Joyful, isn't it?'</p>
+
+<p>"I was in no mood for joking. Already the effect of the brandy had
+vanished and a chill was creeping through my body. My arm trembled and
+Randolph felt it.</p>
+
+<p>"'Dear me, Jack!' he cried as we passed out into the Square, 'this will
+never do! Cheer up, man! Ague is contagious at this hour of the
+morning.'</p>
+
+<p>"I made a heroic effort to restrain the dance of my muscles. Our steps
+made a loud rattling on the cobblestones of the Square, but we met no
+one and were soon well on our way to the river. As we trudged along the
+sky grew lighter, and crossing the bridge I noticed that the roofs of
+old Cambridge showed black against the whiteness of the dawning.
+Everywhere the mist covered the downs with a thick mantle, and a light
+breeze had sprung up, which set it drifting and swirling fantastically.
+The creaking of the draw was the only sound in the heavy silence, save
+the lapping of the water against the sunken piles, and behind us the
+faint clatter of hoofs which told us that Moses was on his way.</p>
+
+<p>"We left the road and started across the downs, and the mist thinned as
+the day neared its breaking. A quarter of a mile away three figures
+moved slowly along the river.</p>
+
+<p>"Who's the third man?' asked Randolph.</p>
+
+<p>"'Watkins wanted a doctor,' I replied. He gave no answer, but strode
+rapidly over the harsh grass and dry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> reeds of the marshy fields. No
+note of bird added touch of life to the gray scene, and the three dim
+shapes before us seemed more like phantoms than fellow-creatures.
+Although warm from our half-mile walk, a cold perspiration broke out all
+over my body and I once more lost control of my muscles. Indeed, had not
+Dick pulled me somewhat roughly on, I doubt if my legs could have held
+me up, so intense was my fear of what was coming.</p>
+
+<p>"Scott, as we approached, came to meet us, and without further formality
+paced off the distance. Then, quite as if it were a common affair with
+him, he examined the priming of our pistols and offered them to me for
+selection. I took one, almost dropping it in my nervousness, and passed
+the weapon to Dick, who pressed my hand for a moment before
+relinquishing it. Hardly a word had been spoken, and before I knew it
+the two were in their places. The spot chosen was in a bend of the
+sluggish river, and at this point the mist had entirely blown away. Each
+raised his pistol and took aim, just as the first claret streaks of dawn
+shot up into the east. The water swept by, oily and purple, with here
+and there a swirl of iridescent color. A heron rose with a roar of
+flapping wings and rustled away into the mist, squawking harshly, and
+the strong, salt breath of the sea floated across the marshes and set me
+sneezing.</p>
+
+<p>"'One!' called Scott sharply. 'Two&mdash;three&mdash; Fire!'</p>
+
+<p>"The two reports seemed but as one, two tiny spurts of white smoke
+leaped from the pistols, there was a sharp groan, and Watkins reeled,
+staggered, and fell upon his back among the reeds, his left hand
+grasping convulsively at a tuft of grass beside him. Randolph stood
+motionless with the smoking pistol in his hand, his eyes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> riveted upon
+the body on the ground, over which both the doctor and Scott were
+bending anxiously. Then the latter raised himself with a look of horror
+on his face, and said wildly:</p>
+
+<p>"'O God! You've killed him!'</p>
+
+<p>"'How is he, doctor?' asked Randolph unemotionally.</p>
+
+<p>"The doctor placed his hand to the heart of the man on the ground. Then
+he announced:</p>
+
+<p>"'He is dead. His heart has ceased to beat.'</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know exactly what happened after that. I think I fainted, for I
+have a dim recollection of some one thrusting a handkerchief strong with
+ammonia into my face. But the first thing I rightly recollect is
+striding hand in hand with Randolph over the downs toward the bridge,
+where Moses was in waiting with the two horses.</p>
+
+<p>"I was conscious of a hurried parting with Dick, of his saying that of
+course he could never come back, and that I must not think the less of
+him for what he had done, and that we must never forget one another. And
+then he leaped on Azam's back and galloped away in the direction of
+Boston with Moses riding hard behind him, just as the sun burst red
+above the roofs of Harvard College through the mist.</p>
+
+<p>"I stood there for a moment and then I ran, ran anywhere, until I
+thought that I should drop; until the pain in my side seemed eating me
+up; and when I really came to my senses I found myself wandering on the
+high road hard by Lexington. I sneaked into the back door of a farmhouse
+and asked for some milk and bread, but the woman refused me and, I
+thought, looked at me with suspicion. Probably they were already
+arranging for my arrest and a warrant had been issued. Visions of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>
+trial as an accessory for murder in the East Cambridge court house, and
+of a judge with a black cap&mdash;a <i>hanging</i> judge&mdash;nearly crazed me with
+apprehension. But I had only myself to blame. I could have prevented it.
+He could not have fought alone. And I remember feeling rather sorry for
+Watkins&mdash;that he hadn't been such a bad fellow, after all. I lay under a
+tree most of the afternoon, and I can't say which emotion was uppermost,
+fear or regret. It never entered my mind that I should escape with
+anything less than a long term in State's prison.</p>
+
+<p>"It came back to me again and again throughout that interminable
+afternoon, how, as I was hurrying with Dick across the downs after the
+fatal shot, and the sun had jumped above the roofs before us, I had
+turned for an instant and seen the doctor and Scott still bending over
+Watkins's body. Then, somehow realizing that flight was impossible, and
+feeling so utterly wretched that I cared nothing for what became of me,
+I begged a lift from a passing teamster most of the way back to
+Cambridge, and shortly after nine o'clock stealthily entered the College
+Yard. The dismantled room opened bare and empty like a sepulcher before
+me, and in its gravelike silence my steps echoed loudly as I crossed the
+floor and threw myself upon the window seat. With a rush the vanished
+happiness of our life together came over me. Never had any days been
+half so sweet as those we had passed in this very room. And now he had
+fled&mdash;a murderer&mdash;leaving me, his accomplice, to face the consequences
+alone.</p>
+
+<p>"Presently a group of fellows came strolling up the walk and seated
+themselves upon the step by the window, where Dick and I had always sat.
+I resented their presence, for it only served to heighten my desolation.
+One<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> of them was evidently telling a funny story. For a moment or two I
+purposely paid no attention; then like a douche of cold water I
+recognized the voice. The revulsion of feeling almost sickened me.</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes,' the jubilant Watkins was saying, 'didn't I always say he was an
+ass? Why, the trick would've been impossible on any less of a fool.
+Curtis can't be much better. When the pistols were produced Scott merely
+turned his back and had no difficulty in reloading them with graphite
+bullets, for the mist was pretty thick, and he says Curtis was shivering
+like a wet dog. All I had to do was a little play-acting and, while I
+assure you it is easier to play dead than to play doctor, Hunt carried
+out his part to perfection. In fact, the whole thing went off like a
+full-dress rehearsal. Randolph must be half-way to Virginia by this
+time. I reckon they'll make him colonel of a regiment when they hear
+he's killed a Yankee in a duel!'"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Curtis spoke with a shade of asperity in his voice, and from where I
+sat I could see disappointment in Ralph's face.</p>
+
+<p>"Why go further?" continued Mr. Curtis. "I brazened it out as best I
+could and denounced the whole wretched performance as a piece of
+unmitigated cowardice which should brand Watkins forever as unworthy the
+society of self-respecting men. The college, as a whole, however, did
+not take that position, although I never suffered very heavily for my
+part in the proceeding.</p>
+
+<p>"And now, boys, you've had the whole story, and you know, in part at
+least, something of what Randolph was like."</p>
+
+<p>"I bet I know that Watkins!" exclaimed Ralph. "Was his name <i>Samuel J.</i>
+Watkins? There's a fellow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> in our class named Samuel J. Watkins, Jr. He
+makes me tired. Sometimes his father comes out to see him&mdash;an old fellow
+with bedspring whiskers. He looks just mean enough to put up a trick
+like that."</p>
+
+<p>"That was Watkins's name," admitted Mr. Curtis. "But he wasn't a bad
+fellow, after all, and later we became good friends." He took out his
+watch. "Heavens, it's half-past twelve! And to think I've been sitting
+here, the night before one of your examinations probably, dreaming away
+three hours and a half and boring you chaps to death. I had no idea it
+was so late."</p>
+
+<p>"I am awfully glad you did," said Ralph. "I tell you we don't have men
+like that nowadays. At least I don't know of any. But what became of
+Randolph&mdash;afterwards?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dick got it at Antietam!" he answered.</p>
+
+<p>Both of us felt very much embarrassed. But then, as Mr. Curtis lit
+another cigar, picked up his hat and cane, and held out his hand,
+Ralph's insatiable curiosity got the better of him.</p>
+
+<p>"And Moses&mdash;was that he with you to-day at the memorial service? We saw
+you, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied Mr. Curtis. "After Mrs. Randolph's death Moses came North
+to live with me."</p>
+
+<p>I thought Ralph had gone far enough, but I was rather glad afterwards
+that, as he took our guest's hand in parting, he said impulsively:</p>
+
+<p>"I think Mr. Randolph was a splendid gentleman!"</p>
+
+
+<p class="theend">THE END</p>
+
+<hr class="wide" />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Transcriber's Note: The following typographical errors, present in the
+original text, have been corrected.</p>
+
+<p>"A shiver of terrror" was changed to "A shiver of terror".</p>
+
+<p>A quotation mark was removed before "Flynt was not here, was he?"</p>
+
+<p>"he in-inquired of 'Dooley'" was changed to "he inquired of 'Dooley'".</p>
+
+<p>"cabs, lan&nbsp;aus, and wagons" was changed to "cabs, landaus, and wagons".</p>
+
+<p>A quotation mark was added before "Sorry to have the game broken up".</p>
+
+<p>A misspaced quotation mark was moved from after "turning to the court"
+to before "that he would like to have his pistol".</p>
+
+<p>"in acordance with inviolable custom" was changed to "in accordance with
+inviolable custom".</p>
+
+<p>Some words, in particular Chinese place names, were spelled
+inconsistently in the original text.</p></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mortmain, by Arthur Cheny Train
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mortmain, by Arthur Cheny Train
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mortmain
+
+Author: Arthur Cheny Train
+
+Release Date: September 8, 2011 [EBook #37346]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORTMAIN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MORTMAIN
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "'The problem, gentlemen, of limb-grafting has been
+solved.'" (Page 4)]
+
+
+
+
+MORTMAIN
+
+BY ARTHUR TRAIN
+
+
+NEW YORK
+CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
+1928
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY ESS ESS PUBLISHING COMPANY
+COPYRIGHT, 1905, 1906, 1907, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY
+COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY THE METROPOLITAN MAGAZINE COMPANY
+COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY ASSOCIATED SUNDAY MAGAZINES
+COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY THE BUTTERICK PUBLISHING COMPANY
+
+Printed in the United States of America
+
+
+[Illustration: THE SCRIBNER PRESS]
+
+
+
+
+             To
+            AMOS
+     ESNESTO AND SANDRO
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                       PAGE
+ MORTMAIN                                 1
+ THE RESCUE OF THEOPHILUS NEWBEGIN       65
+ THE VAGABOND                           109
+ THE MAN HUNT                           131
+ NOT AT HOME                            239
+ A STUDY IN SOCIOLOGY                   251
+ THE LITTLE FELLER                      269
+ RANDOLPH, '64                          275
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+                                                             FACING
+                                                               PAGE
+
+  "'The problem, gentlemen, of limb-grafting has been
+  solved!'"                                              Frontispiece
+
+  "Mortmain . . . lay motionless on the floor"                      22
+
+  "His blunt fingers twisted into the flesh deeper and deeper"      56
+
+  "She . . . studied the faces alternately"                        156
+
+  "The distinguished Flynn burst into a deluge of oratory"         262
+
+  "He caught sight of the waiting Maria"                           266
+
+  "'Back,' he shouted"                                             296
+
+
+
+
+MORTMAIN
+
+
+I
+
+
+Sir Penniston Crisp was a man of some sixty active years, whose ruddy
+cheeks, twinkling blue eyes, and convincingly innocent smile suggested
+forty. At thirty he had been accounted the most promising young surgeon
+in London; at forty he had become one of the three leading members of
+his profession; at fifty he had amassed a fortune and had begun to
+accept only those cases which involved complications of true scientific
+interest, or which came to him on the personal application of other
+distinguished physicians.
+
+Like many another in the medical world whose material wants are
+guaranteed, he found solace and amusement only in experimentation along
+new lines of his peculiar hobbies. His days were spent between his
+book-lined study with its cheery sea-coal fire and his adjacent
+laboratory, where three assistants, all trained Bachelors of Science,
+conducted experiments under his personal direction.
+
+His daily life was as well ordered as his career had been. Rising at
+seven, Sir Penniston partook of a meager breakfast, attended to his
+trifling personal affairs, read his newspaper, dictated his letters, and
+by nine was ready to don his uniform and receive his sterilized
+instruments from his young associate, Scalscope Jermyn, a capable and
+cheerful soul after Crisp's own heart. An operating theater adjoined the
+laboratory, and here the baronet made it a point to perform once each
+week, in the presence of various surgeons who attended by invitation, a
+few difficult and dangerous operations upon patients sent to him from
+the City Hospital.
+
+When Jermyn was with his familiars he was wont to refer to his master as
+the "howlingist cheese in surgery." This was putting it mildly, for,
+although Sir Penniston was indubitably, if you choose, quite the
+"howlingist cheese" in surgery, he was also a pathfinder, an explorer
+into the mysteries of the body and the essence of vitality in bone and
+tissue. He could do more things to a cat in twenty minutes than would
+naturally occur in the combined history of a thousand felines. He could
+handle the hidden arteries and vessels of the body as confidently and
+accurately as you or I would tie a shoe string. He had housed a tramp
+for thirteen months and inserted a plate-glass window in that
+gentleman's exterior in order that he might with the greater certainty
+study the complicated processes of a digestion stimulated after a
+chronic lack of food. He experimented on men, women, children,
+elephants, apes, ostriches, guinea pigs, rabbits, turtles, frogs, and
+goldfish. He could alter the shape of a nose, or perfect an irregular
+ear in the twinkling of an instrument; remove a human heart and insert
+it still beating without inconvenience to its owner; and was as much at
+home among the vessels of Thebesius as he was on Piccadilly Circus.
+
+He was single, kept but one servant--a Jap--neither smoked nor drank,
+attended the worst play he could find every Saturday night, and gave
+ponderous dinners to his professional brethren on Wednesdays. He was the
+dean of his order, and bade fair to remain so for a long time to come--a
+calm, passionless craftsman in flesh and bone. His rivals frequently
+were heard to say that there was nothing surgical in heaven or earth
+that Crisp would not undertake. A faint odor of chloroform followed his
+well-regulated progress through existence.
+
+On the morning upon which this narrative opens Sir Penniston had entered
+his laboratory with that urbanity so characteristic of him. A white
+frock hung jauntily upon his well-filled, if slenderly nourished,
+proportions, his blue eyes sparkled with good-natured activity, and his
+long, muscular hands rubbed themselves together in a manner which
+signified that they were anxious to be at the skilled work in which
+their owner took so keen a pleasure. Scalscope was already on hand, and
+with a bundle of dripping instruments in his grasp met his master
+halfway between the minor operating table and the antiseptic bath.
+
+"Ah, good morning, Scalscope! How is the Marchioness of Cheshire this
+fine morning?"
+
+Scalscope smiled deferentially at the little joke.
+
+"I presume you mean Lady Tabitha? Her ladyship is doing
+splendidly--better, I fancy, than could be expected under the
+circumstances."
+
+"Excellent, Scalscope! Delightful! Where is she?"
+
+At that moment a large Maltese cat, cognizant by some unknown instinct
+that she was the subject of this matutinal conversation, stalked slowly
+out of a patch of sunshine and rubbed herself between Sir Penniston's
+broadcloth-covered calves. The surgeon bent over and felt carefully of
+her foreleg, but the feline did not flinch; on the contrary, she
+screwed round her head and thrust it into the doctor's hand.
+
+"Perfect!" exclaimed Sir Penniston, his face lighting with a smile of
+scientific satisfaction. "Absolutely perfect! Scalscope, you have lived
+to participate in the highest achievement of modern surgery! Is the
+patient in the operating room? Very good. The gentlemen assembled?
+Excellent! While you are administering the somni-chloride I will
+announce our success."
+
+He bowed to the other assistants and, followed by the Marchioness of
+Cheshire, opened the door which led to the platform of the operating
+theater. Some dozen or fifteen professional-looking gentlemen rose as he
+made his appearance and bowed. A young woman with her arm in a sling sat
+by the table attended by a couple of women nurses.
+
+"Good morning, gentlemen! Good morning!" remarked Sir Penniston. "Mr.
+Jermyn, will you kindly prepare the patient? My friends, I have the
+pleasure of being able to announce to you, and thus permitting you in a
+measure to share in, what I regard as the most extraordinary achievement
+of our profession."
+
+A murmur of interest and appreciation made itself audible from the
+physicians who had resumed their seats upon the benches. If Sir
+Penniston regarded anything as remarkable, it must indeed be so, and
+they awaited his next words expectantly.
+
+"The problem, gentlemen, of limb-grafting has been solved!" he announced
+modestly.
+
+The assembled surgeons gazed at one another in amazement.
+
+"You may perhaps recall," continued the baronet, "that it has for years
+been my particular hobby, or, I should more properly say, theory, that
+there was no reason in the world why, if a severed finger or a nose
+could be replaced by surgery, the same should not be true of a major
+part, such as a hand or leg; and why, if a limb once severed could be
+replaced upon its stump, another person's might not be used.
+
+"Many gentlemen eminent in our profession, some of whom I believe I see
+before me, gave it as their opinion that such an operation was
+impossible. A few--and most of these, I regret to say, were upon the
+other side of the Atlantic--agreed with me that it could and would
+ultimately be accomplished. I studied the problem for years. Was it our
+inability to nourish a part once severed or so to reenervate it as to
+unite tendons, muscles, or bone? The latter surely gave no trouble.
+Tendons were sutured every day, and under favorable circumstances their
+functions were restored, while nerves were frequently sutured and
+functional restoration recorded.
+
+"The question, therefore, seemed to narrow itself down to whether or not
+it was impossible to restore an arterial supply once cut off. Veins, of
+course, were frequently cut and sutured, and performed perfectly
+afterwards. Was there no way to restore an artery? In other words, could
+a limb once severed be sufficiently nourished to restore it? This, then,
+became my special study--a fascinating study indeed, involving as it did
+the possibilities of untold benefit to mankind."
+
+Sir Penniston paused and glanced toward the table upon which was
+extended the now almost unconscious form of the patient. There was still
+plenty of time for him to conclude his remarks.
+
+"With a view, therefore, to observing whether a thin glass tube would be
+tolerated in a sterilized state within an artery (the only possible
+means I could devise to allow a continued flow of blood and
+contemporaneous restoration), I made a number of half-inch pieces to
+suit the caliber of a dog's femoral, constricted them very slightly to
+an hour-glass shape, and smoothed their ends by heat, so that no surface
+roughness should induce clotting. Cutting the femorals across, I tied
+each end on the tube by a fine silk thread, and tied the thread ends
+together. Primary union resulted, and the dog's legs were as good as
+ever! The first step had been successfully accomplished."
+
+The assembled surgeons clapped their hands faintly in token of
+appreciation, and one or two murmured, "My word!-- Extraordinary!--
+Marvelous!" Sir Penniston bowed slightly and resumed:
+
+"I now added one more step to my experiments. I dissected out the
+trachial artery and vein near the axilla of a dog's forelimb, and,
+holding these apart, amputated the limb through the shoulder muscles and
+sawed through the bone, leaving the limb attached only by the vessels. I
+then sutured the bone with a silver wire and the nerves with fine silk.
+Each muscle I sutured by itself with catgut, making a separate series of
+continuous suturing of the _fascia lata_ and skin. The leg was then
+enveloped in sterilized dressing, a liberal use of iodoform gauze being
+the essential part. Over all, cotton and a plaster jacket were placed,
+leaving him three legs to walk on. The dog's leg united perfectly."
+
+The assembled gentlemen broke into loud applause. The patient was lying
+motionless, her deep inspirations showing that she was under the
+anaesthetic. But Sir Penniston was now lost in the enthusiasm of his
+subject.
+
+"Thus, gentlemen, I demonstrated that, if in an amputated limb an
+artery could be left, the limb would survive the division and reuniting
+of everything else, and had good ground for the belief that if an
+arterial supply could be restored to a completely amputated limb, _that_
+limb also might be grafted back to its original or to a corresponding
+stump.
+
+"The final experiment only remained--the complete amputation of a limb
+and its restoration--a combination of all the others--difficult,
+dangerous, delicate--and requiring much preparation, assistance, and
+time. I finally selected a healthy cat, amputated its foreleg, inserted
+a glass tube in the artery, and sutured bone, muscles, nerves, and skin.
+Complete restoration occurred! And after four months you have here
+before you this morning the cat herself, fat, well, and strong, and as
+good as ever!--Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!"
+
+The Marchioness of Cheshire ran quickly to Sir Penniston and leaped into
+his lap, while the gentlemen left the benches and hastened forward to
+seize the master's hand and to examine the cat in wonder.
+
+"There is nothing, therefore, in the way of grafting which cannot be
+successfully undertaken. A human arm or leg crushed at thigh or
+shoulder, and requiring amputation, would admit of Esmarch's bandage
+being applied to expel its blood and of being used after amputation. Why
+not another man's blood as well as its owner's? No reason in the world!
+Had we here a suitable forearm ready to be applied I have no doubt but
+that I could successfully replace it upon the stump of the one I am now
+about to remove. Hereafter, so long as there are limbs enough to go
+round--so long as the demand does not transcend the supply--none of our
+patients need fear the permanent loss of a member!"
+
+The surgeons overwhelmed him with their congratulations, but Sir
+Penniston modestly waived them aside. His triumph was the triumph of
+science--and its purity was not marred by any thought of personal
+glorification.
+
+"The Crispan operation," some one whispered. The others caught it up.
+"The Crispan operation," they repeated. A slight look of gratification
+made itself apparent upon Sir Penniston's rosy countenance.
+
+"Thank you, gentlemen! Thank you! Mr. Jermyn, is the patient quite
+ready? Yes? We will proceed, gentlemen. My instruments, if you please."
+
+Among those who left the operating theater an hour later was Sir Richard
+Mortmain.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+The opalescent light from the bronze electric lamp on the mahogany
+writing table disclosed two gentlemen, whose attitudes and expressions
+left no doubt as to the serious import of their discussion. At the same
+time the _membra disjecta_ of afternoon tea which remained upon the teak
+tabaret, together with the still smoking butt of an Egyptian cigarette
+distilling its incense in a steadily perpendicular gray column toward
+the ceiling from a jade jar used as an ash receiver, showed that for one
+of them at least the situation had admitted of physical amelioration.
+The gentleman beside the table had rested his high, narrow forehead upon
+the delicate fingers of his left hand, and with contracted eyebrows was
+gazing in a baffled manner toward his companion, who had extended his
+limbs at length before the heavy chair in which he reclined, and with
+his elbows upon its arms was holding his finger tips lightly against
+each other before his face. To those who knew Ashley Flynt this meant
+that the last word had been spoken, and that nothing remained but to
+accept the situation as he stated it and follow his advice.
+
+His heavy yet shrewd countenance, whose florid hue bespoke a modern
+adjustment of golf to a more traditional use of port, had that cold,
+vacant look which it displayed when the mind behind the mask had
+recorded Q. E. D. beneath its unseen demonstration. The gentleman at
+the table twitched his shoulders nervously, slowly raised his head, and
+leaned back into his chair.
+
+"And you say that there is absolutely nothing which can be done?" he
+repeated mechanically.
+
+"I have already told you, Sir Richard," replied Flynt in even, incisive
+tones, "that the last day of grace expires to-morrow. Unless the three
+notes are immediately taken up you will be forced into bankruptcy. Your
+property and expectations are already mortgaged for more than they are
+worth. Your assets of every sort will not return your creditors--I
+should say your creditor--fifteen per cent. Seventy-nine thousand
+pounds, principal and interest--can you raise it or even a substantial
+part of it? No, not five thousand! You have no choice, so far as I can
+see, but to go into bankruptcy, unless--" He hesitated rather
+deprecatingly.
+
+"Well!" cried Sir Richard impatiently, "unless----"
+
+"Unless you marry."
+
+The baronet drew himself up and a flush crept into his cheeks and across
+his forehead.
+
+"As your legal adviser," continued Flynt unperturbed, "I give it as my
+opinion that your only alternative to bankruptcy is a suitable marriage.
+Of course, for a man of your position in society a mere engagement might
+be enough to----"
+
+Sir Richard sprang quickly to his feet and stepped in front of his
+solicitor.
+
+"To induce the money lenders to advance the amount necessary to put me
+on my feet? Bah! Flynt, how dare you make such a suggestion! If you were
+not my solicitor--Good heavens, that I should ever be brought to this!"
+
+Flynt shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"So far as that goes, bankruptcy is the cheapest way to pay one's
+debts."
+
+His client uttered an ejaculation of disgust. Then suddenly the red
+deepened in his cheeks and he clenched his white hand until the thin
+blue veins stood out like cords.
+
+"Curse him!" he cried in a voice shaken by anger. "Curse him now and
+hereafter! Why did I ever take advantage of his pretended generosity? He
+meant to ruin me! Why was I ever born with tastes that I could not
+afford to gratify? Why must I surround myself with music and flowers and
+marbles? He saw his chance, stimulated my extravagance, seduced my
+intellect, and now he casts me into the street a beggar! How I hate him!
+I believe I could _kill_ him!"
+
+Sir Richard turned quickly. The door had opened to admit the silent,
+deferential figure of Joyce, the butler.
+
+"Pardon me, Sir Richard. A clerk from Mr. Flynt's office, sir, with a
+package. Shall I let him in?"
+
+Mortmain still stood with his fist trembling in mid-air, and it was a
+moment before he regained sufficient control of himself to reply:
+
+"Yes, yes; let him in."
+
+The butler nodded to some one just behind him, and a nondescript,
+undersized man cringingly entered the room and stood hesitatingly by the
+threshold.
+
+"Have you the papers, Flaggs?" inquired Flynt.
+
+"Here, sir," replied the other, drawing forth a bundle tied with red
+tape and handing it to his employer.
+
+"Very good. You need not return to the office. Good night."
+
+"Good night, sir. Thank you, sir," mumbled Flaggs, and casting a
+furtive, beetling glance in the direction of Sir Richard, he shambled
+out.
+
+The solicitor followed him with his eye until the door had closed behind
+him, and then shrugged his shoulders for the second time.
+
+"My dear Sir Richard," he remarked, "many of our most distinguished
+peers have gone through bankruptcy. It will all be the same a year
+hence. Society will be as glad as ever to receive you. Your name will
+command the same respect and likely enough the same credit. Bankruptcy
+is still eminently respectable. As for Lord Russell--try to forget him.
+It is enough that you owe him the money."
+
+Mortmain's anger had been followed by the reaction of despair. Now he
+groped for a cigarette, and, drawing a jeweled match box from his
+pocket, lit it with trembling fingers.
+
+Flynt arose.
+
+"That's right!" he exclaimed; "just be sensible about it. Meet me
+to-morrow at my office at ten o'clock and we will call in Lord Russell's
+solicitors for a consultation. It will be amicable enough, I assure you.
+Well, I must be off. Good night." He extended his hand, but Mortmain had
+thrust his own into his trousers' pockets.
+
+"And you say nothing can prevent this?"
+
+"Why, yes," returned Flynt in a sarcastic tone; "I believe two things
+can do so."
+
+"Indeed," inquired Sir Richard. "What may they be?"
+
+Flynt had stepped impatiently to the door, which he now held half open.
+Sir Richard had failed to send him a draft for his last bill.
+
+"A fire from heaven to consume the notes--coupled with the death of Lord
+Russell--or your own. Good night!"
+
+The door closed abruptly and Sir Richard Mortmain was left alone.
+
+"The death of Lord Russell or my own!" he repeated with a harsh laugh.
+"Agreeable fellow, Flynt!" Then the bitter smile died out of his face
+and the lines hardened. Over on the heavy onyx mantel, between two
+grotesque bronze Chinese vases from whose ponderous sides dragons with
+bristling teeth and claws writhed to escape, a Sevres clock chimed six,
+and was echoed by a dim booming from the outer hall.
+
+Mortmain glanced with regret about the little den that typified so
+perfectly the futility of his luxurious existence. The deadened walls
+admitted hardly a suggestion of the traffic outside. By a flower-set
+window the open piano still held the score of "Madame Butterfly," the
+opening performance of which he was to attend that evening with Lady
+Bella Forsythe. A bunch of lilies of the valley stood at his elbow upon
+the massive table that never bore anything upon its polished surface but
+an ancient manuscript, an etching, or a vase of flowers. Delicate
+cabinets showed row upon row of grotesque Capodimonte, rare Sevres and
+Dresden porcelains, jade, and other examples of ceramic art. Two
+Rembrandts, a Corot, and a profile by Whistler occupied the wall space.
+The mantel was given over to a few choice antique bronzes, covered with
+verdigris. The only concession to modern utilitarianism was an extension
+telephone standing upon a bracket in the corner behind the fireplace.
+
+The sole surviving member of his family, Mortmain had inherited from
+his father, Sir Mortimer, a discriminating intellect and artistic
+tastes, united with a gentle, engaging, and unambitious disposition,
+derived from his Italian mother. Carelessly indifferent to his social
+inferiors, or those whom he regarded as such, he was brilliantly
+entertaining with his equals--a man of moods, conservative in habit, yet
+devoted to society, expensive in his mode of life, given to
+hospitality--and a spendthrift. These qualities combined to make him
+caviare to the general, an enigma to the majority, and the favorite of
+the few, whose favorite he desired to be. He had never married, for his
+calculation and his laziness had jumped together to convince him that he
+could be more comfortable, more independent, and more free to pursue his
+music and kindred tastes, if single. Altogether, Sir Richard, though
+perhaps a trifle selfish, was by no means a bad fellow, and one whose
+temperament fitted him to be what he was--a leader in matters of taste,
+a connoisseur, and an esteemed member of the gay world.
+
+No doubt, as Flynt had suggested, he could have liberated himself
+financially by donning the golden shackles of an aristocratic marital
+slavery. But his soul revolted at the thought of marrying for money, not
+only at the moral aspect of it, but because a certain individual
+tranquillity had become necessary to his mode of life. He was forty and
+a creature of habit. A conventional marriage would be as intolerable as
+earning his living. On the other hand, the odium of a bankruptcy
+proceeding, the publicity, the vulgarity of it, and the loss of prestige
+and position which it would necessarily involve brought him face to face
+with the only alternative which Flynt had flung at him in parting--the
+death of Lord Russell or his own.
+
+He had known that without being told. Months before, the silver-mounted
+pistol which was to round out his consistently inconsistent existence
+had been concealed among the linen in the bureau of his Louis XV
+bedroom, but it was to be invoked only when no other course remained.
+That nothing else did remain was clear. Flynt had read his client's
+sentence in that brutally unconscious jest.
+
+On the day of his interview with Flynt he was one of the most highly
+regarded critics of music and art in London, and his own brilliant
+accomplishments as a virtuoso had been supplemented by a lavish
+generosity toward struggling painters and musicians who found easy
+access to his purse and table, if not to his heart.
+
+He had introduced Drausche, the Austrian pianist, to the musical world
+at a heavy financial loss and had made several costly donations to the
+British Museum, in addition to which his collection of scarabs was one
+of the most complete on record and demanded constant replenishing to
+keep up to date. His expensive habits had required money and plenty of
+it, and when his patrimony had been exhausted he had mortgaged his
+expectations in his uncle's estate to launch the Austrian genius. It had
+been a lamentable failure. Mortmain's friends had said plainly enough
+that Drausche could play no better than his patron. This of itself
+implied no mean talent, but the public had resolutely refused to pay
+five shillings a ticket to hear the pianist, and the money was gone. Sir
+Richard had found himself in the hollow position of playing Maecenas
+without the price, and rather than change his pose and his manner of
+life had borrowed twenty-five thousand pounds four years before from an
+elderly peer, who combined philanthropy and what some declared to be
+usury with a high degree of success.
+
+There were those who hinted that this eminently respectable aristocrat
+robbed Peter more than he paid Paul, but Lord Gordon Russell was a man
+with whose reputation it was not safe to take liberties. The next year
+Mortmain had renewed his note, and, in order to save his famous
+collection from being knocked down at Christie's, had borrowed
+twenty-five thousand more. The same thing happened the year after, and
+now all three notes were three days overdue.
+
+Sir Richard responded to the announcement of the little Sevres clock by
+pressing a button at the side of his desk, which summons was speedily
+answered by Joyce.
+
+"My fur coat, if you please, Joyce."
+
+"Very good, sir." Joyce combined the eye of an eagle with the stolidity
+of an Egyptian mummy.
+
+Mortmain arose, stepped to the fire, rubbed his thin, carefully kept
+fingers together, then seated himself at the piano and played a few
+chords from the overture. As he sat there he looked anything but a
+bankrupt upon the eve of suicide--rather one would have said, a young
+Italian musician, just ready to receive and enjoy the crowning pleasures
+of life. The thin light of the heavily shaded lamps brought out the
+ivory paleness of his face and hands, and the delicate, sensitive
+outline of his form, as with eyes half closed and head thrown back he
+ran his fingers with facile skill across the keyboard.
+
+"Your coat, sir," said Joyce.
+
+Mortmain arose and presented his arms while the servant deftly threw on
+the seal-lined garment, and handed his master his silk hat, gloves, and
+gold-headed stick.
+
+"I am going for a short walk, Joyce. I shall be back by seven. You can
+reach me at the club, if necessary."
+
+Joyce held open the door of the study and then hurried ahead through the
+luxuriously furnished hall to push open the massive door at the
+entrance. On the threshold Mortmain turned and, looking Joyce in the
+eye, said sharply:
+
+"Why did you let that fellow Flaggs follow you to the door of my study,
+instead of leaving him in the hall?"
+
+"I beg pardon, sir," replied the servant, "but he slipped behind me
+afore I knew it, sir. He was a rum one, anyway, sir--a bit in liquor, I
+fancy, sir."
+
+Mortmain turned and passed out without reply. He hated intruders and had
+not liked the way in which Flynt had calmly received the clerk in his
+private study. On the whole, he regarded the solicitor as presuming.
+
+It was dark already and the street lamps glowed nebulously through the
+gathering fog. The air was chilly, and a thick mealy paste, half sleet,
+half water, formed a sort of icing upon the sidewalk, which made walking
+slippery and uncomfortable. Few people were abroad, for fashionable
+London was in its clubs and boudoirs, and the workers trudged in an
+entirely different direction.
+
+The club was but a few streets away, and it was only ten minutes after
+the hour when he entered it and strolled carelessly through the rooms.
+No one whom he cared particularly to see was there, and the fresh, if
+bitter, December air outside seemed vastly preferable to the stuffy
+atmosphere of the smoke-filled card and reading rooms. Therefore, as he
+had nearly an hour before it would be time to dress, he left the club,
+and, with the vague idea of extending his evening ramble, turned
+northward. Unconsciously he kept repeating Flynt's words: "The death of
+Lord Russell or your own." Then, without heed to where he was going, he
+fell into a reverie, in which he pondered upon the emptiness and
+uselessness of his life.
+
+At length he entered a large square, and found himself asking what was
+so familiar in the picket fence and broad flight of steps that led up to
+the main entrance of the mansion on the corner. A wing of the house made
+out into a side street and presented three brilliantly lighted windows
+to the night. Two were empty, but on the white shade of the third, only
+a few feet above the sidewalk, appeared the sharp shadow of a man's head
+bending over a table. Now and then the lips moved as if their owner were
+addressing some other occupant of the chamber. It was the head of an old
+man, bald and shrunken.
+
+Mortmain muttered an oath. What tricks was Fate trying to play with him
+by leading his footsteps to the house of the very man who, on the
+following morning, would ruin him as inevitably and inexorably as the
+sun would rise! A wave of anger surged through him and he shook his fist
+at the shadow on the curtain, exclaiming as he had done in his study
+half an hour before, "Curse him!"
+
+"Ain't got much bloomin' 'air, 'as 'e, guv'nor?" said a thick voice at
+his elbow.
+
+Sir Richard started back and beheld by the indistinct light of the
+street lamp the leering face of Flaggs, the clerk.
+
+"Tha'sh yer frien' S'Gordon Russell," continued the other with easy
+familiarity. "A bloomin' bad un, says I. 'Orrid li'l bald 'ead! Got'sh
+notes, too. _Your_ notes, S'Richard. Don't like 'im myself!"
+
+Mortmain turned faint. This wretched scrivener had stumbled upon or
+overheard his secret. That he was drunk was obvious, but that only made
+him the more dangerous.
+
+"Take yourself off, my man. It's too cold out here for you," ordered the
+baronet, slipping a couple of shillings into his hand.
+
+"Than' you, S'Richard," mumbled Flaggs, leaning heavily in Mortmain's
+direction. "I accept this as a 'refresher.' Although you've never given
+me a retainer! Ha! ha! Not so bad, eh? Lemme tell you somethin'. 'Like
+to kill 'im,' says you? Kill 'im, says I. Le's kill 'im together. 'Ere
+an' now! Eh?"
+
+"Leave me, do you hear?" cried the baronet. "You're in no condition to
+be on the street."
+
+Flaggs grinned a sickly grin.
+
+"Same errand as you, your worship. Both 'ere lookin' at li'l old bald
+'ead. Look at 'im now----"
+
+He raised his finger and pointed at the window, then staggered backward,
+lost his balance, and fell over the curb along the gutter. In another
+instant a policeman had him by the collar and had jerked him to his
+feet. The fall had so dazed the clerk that he made no resistance.
+
+"I 'ope 'e didn't hoffer you no violence, Sir Richard," remarked the
+bobby, touching his helmet with his unoccupied hand. "Hit's
+disgraceful--right in front of Lord Russell's, too!"
+
+"No, he was merely offensive," replied Mortmain, recognizing the
+policeman as an old timer on the beat. "Thank you. Good night."
+
+The baronet turned away as the bobby started toward the station house,
+conducting his bewildered victim by the nape of the neck. Without
+heeding direction, Mortmain strode on, trying to forget the drunken
+Flaggs and the little bald head in the window. The clerk's words had
+created in him a feeling of actual nausea, so that a perspiration broke
+out all over his body and he walked uncertainly. After he had covered
+half a mile or so, the air revived him, and, having taken his bearings,
+he made a wide circle so as to avoid Farringham Square again, and at the
+same time to approach his own house from the direction opposite to that
+in which he had started. He still felt shocked and ill--the same
+sensation which he had once experienced on seeing two navvies fighting
+outside a music hall. He remembered afterwards that there seemed to be
+more people on the streets as he neared his home, and that a patrol
+wagon passed at a gallop in the same direction. A hundred yards farther
+on he saw a long envelope lying in the slush upon the sidewalk, and
+mechanically he picked it up and thrust it in the pocket of his coat.
+Joyce came to the door just as the hall clock boomed seven. Sir Richard
+had been gone exactly an hour.
+
+"Fetch me a brandy and soda," ordered the baronet huskily, and stepped
+into the study without removing his furs. The fire had been replenished
+and was cracking merrily, but it sent no answering glow through Sir
+Richard's frame. The shadow of the little bald head still rested like a
+weight upon his brain, and his hands were moist and clammy. He thrust
+them into his pockets and came into contact with the wet manila cover
+of the envelope, and he drew it forth and tossed it upon the table as
+Joyce entered with the brandy.
+
+The butler removed his master's coat and noiselessly left the room,
+while Mortmain drained the glass and then carelessly examined the
+envelope. The names of "Flynt, Steele & Burnham" printed in the upper
+left-hand corner caught his eye. The names of his own solicitors! That
+was a peculiar thing. Perhaps Flynt had dropped it--or Flaggs. He turned
+it over curiously. It was unsealed, as if it had formed one of a package
+of papers. The baronet lifted the envelope to the lamp and peeped within
+it. There were three thin sheets of paper covered with writing, and
+unconsciously he drew them forth and examined them. At the foot of each,
+in delicate, firm characters, appeared his own name staring him
+familiarly in the face. In the corners were the unmistakable figures
+L25,000. He rubbed his forehead and read all three carefully. There
+could be no doubt of it--they were his own three notes of hand to Lord
+Gordon Russell. Fate was playing tricks with him again.
+
+"A fire from heaven to consume the notes," Flynt had said. Here were the
+notes--there was the fire. Had Heaven perhaps really interposed to save
+him? Was this chance or Providence? With a short breath the baronet
+grasped the notes and took a step toward the hearth. As he did so the
+extension telephone by the mantel began to ring excitedly. His heart
+thumped loudly as, with a feeling of guilt, he relaid the notes upon the
+table and seized the telephone.
+
+"Yes--yes--this is Mortmain!"
+
+"Richard," came the voice of a friend at the club in anxious tones, "are
+you there? Are you at home?"
+
+"Yes--yes!" repeated the baronet breathlessly. "What is it?"
+
+"Have you heard the news--the news about Lord Russell?"
+
+Mortmain's head swam with a whirl of premonition.
+
+"No," he replied, trying to master himself, while the perspiration again
+broke out over his body. "What news? What has happened?"
+
+"Lord Russell was murdered in his library at half after six this
+evening. Some one gained access to the room and killed the old man at
+his study table."
+
+"Killed Lord Russell!" gasped Sir Richard. "Have they caught the
+murderer?"
+
+"No," continued his friend. "The assassin escaped by one of the windows
+into the street. The police have taken possession. There is nothing to
+indicate who did the deed. There was blood everywhere. His secretary, a
+man named Leach, was discharged two days ago and a general alarm has
+been sent out for him."
+
+"This is terrible," groaned Sir Richard in horror.
+
+"It is, indeed. I thought you ought to know. I may see you at the opera.
+If not--good night."
+
+The receiver fell from the baronet's fingers, and the room grew black as
+he clutched at the mantel with his other hand. He staggered slightly,
+tried to regain his equilibrium, and in so doing upset one of the bronze
+dragon vases which grinned down upon him.
+
+The vase fell, and the baronet clutched at it in its descent. It was too
+late. The heavy bronze crashed downward to the floor carrying Sir
+Richard with it, and one of the verdigris-covered dragon's fangs pierced
+his right hand.
+
+Mortmain uttered a moan and lay motionless on the floor. The little
+Sevres clock ticked off forty seconds and then softly chimed the
+quarter, while the blood from the baronet's hand spurted in a tiny
+stream upon the rug.
+
+[Illustration: "Mortmain . . . lay motionless on the floor."]
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+When Sir Richard Mortmain next opened his eyes after his fall he found
+himself in his bedchamber. The curtains were tightly drawn, allowing
+only a shimmer of sunshine to creep in and play upon the ceiling; an
+unknown woman in a nurse's uniform was sitting motionless at the foot of
+his bed; the air was heavy with the pungent odor of iodoform, and his
+right arm, tightly bandaged and lying extended upon a wooden support
+before him, throbbed with burning pains. Too weak to move, unable to
+recall what had brought him to such a pass, he raised his eyebrows
+inquiringly, and in reply the nurse laid her finger upon her lips and
+reaching toward a stand beside the bed held a tumbler containing a glass
+tube to the baronet's lips. Mortmain sucked the contents from the
+tumbler and felt his pulse strengthen--then weakness manifested itself
+and he sank back, his lips framing the unspoken question, "What has
+happened?"
+
+The nurse smiled--she was a pretty, plump young person--not the kind Sir
+Richard favored (Burne-Jones was his type), and whispered:
+
+"You have been unconscious over twelve hours. You must lie still. You
+have had a bad fall and your hand is injured."
+
+In some strange and unaccountable way the statement called to Mortmain's
+fuddled senses a confused recollection of a scene in Hauptmann's "Die
+Versunkene Gloecke," and half unconsciously he repeated the words:
+
+"I _fell_. I--fe--l--l!"
+
+"Yes, you did, indeed!" retorted the pretty nurse. "But Sir Penniston
+will never forgive me if I let you talk. How is your arm?"
+
+"It burns--and burns!" answered the baronet.
+
+"That horrid vase crushed right through the palm. Rather a nasty wound.
+But you will be all right presently. Do you wish anything?"
+
+Suddenly complete mental capacity rushed back to him. The disagreeable
+scene with Flaggs, the finding of the notes, the news of Russell's
+murder, and his accident. The murder! He must learn the details. And the
+notes. What had he done with them? He could not recollect, try hard as
+he would. Were they on the table? His head whirled and he grew suddenly
+faint. The nurse poured out another tumbler from a bottle and again held
+the tube to his lips. How delicious and strengthening it was!
+
+"Please get me a newspaper!" said Sir Richard.
+
+"A newspaper!" cried the nurse. "Nonsense! I'll do no such thing!"
+
+"Then please see if there are some papers in an envelope lying on the
+writing table in my private study."
+
+The nurse seemed puzzled. Where aristocratic patients were concerned,
+particularly if they were in a weakened condition, she was accustomed to
+accommodate them. She hesitated.
+
+"At once!" added Sir Richard.
+
+The nurse tiptoed out of the room, and in the course of a few moments
+returned.
+
+"The butler says that Mr. Flynt's clerk, a man named Faggs, or Flaggs,
+or something of the sort, came back for them half an hour ago. He
+explained that he thought Mr. Flynt might have left some papers by
+mistake, and the butler supposed it was all right and let him have them.
+The name of your solicitors was upon the envelope."
+
+Sir Richard stared at her stupidly. A queer feeling of horror and
+distrust pervaded him, the very same feeling which his first sight of
+the clerk had inspired in him. What could Flaggs have known of the
+notes? The clerk himself could not have committed the ghastly deed,
+since he had been under arrest at the time--but might he not have been
+an accomplice? Were the notes part of some terrible plot to enmesh
+_him_, Sir Richard Mortmain, in the murder? Was it a scheme of
+blackmail? The blood surged to his head and dimmed his eyesight. But why
+had Flaggs taken them away? Had he left them on the street hoping that
+Sir Richard would find them and bring them into the house, so that he
+could testify to having found them in the study? But, if so, why had he
+risked the possibility of their having been destroyed before he could
+regain them? Such a supposition was most unlikely. It must have been
+merely chance. The fellow had probably sneaked in simply to see what he
+could find. And what had he found! A shiver of terror quenched for an
+instant the burning of Mortmain's body. A horrible vision of himself
+standing outside the window of Lord Gordon Russell took shape before
+him. What if people should say--! He had been heard by Joyce and the
+clerk to express his hatred of the old man and his willingness to kill
+him. In addition there were the notes, overdue and about to be
+protested, which Flaggs had found in his study within twelve hours of
+Lord Russell's murder. Motive enough for any crime. Moreover, the
+policeman had seen him loitering there at almost the exact moment of the
+homicide!
+
+These momentous facts came crashing down upon his brain with the weight
+of stones, numbing for an instant his exquisite torture--then reason
+reasserted herself. Lord Russell was dead. If circumstances seemed to
+point in his direction, he had only to deny that the notes had been in
+his possession, and certainly his word would be taken as against that of
+the drunken clerk of a solicitor. Moreover, the notes were obviously not
+in the possession of the executors. Should, by any chance, no memoranda
+of them remain he might never be called upon to honor them. At all
+events, his bankruptcy had, for the time at least, been averted. Even
+were their existence known, legal procedure would intervene to give him
+time to evolve some means of escape--perhaps, in default of aught else,
+a marriage of convenience. Sir Richard, in spite of the burning pain in
+his right arm, leaned back his head with a sensation of relief.
+
+A soft knock came at the door and he heard the nurse's voice murmuring
+in low tones; then the curtain was partially raised and he recognized
+the figures of Sir Penniston Crisp and his young assistant.
+
+"Ah, my dear Mortmain! When you left me yesterday morning I hardly
+expected to see you so soon again. And how do you find yourself?" was
+the baronet's cheery salutation.
+
+Sir Richard smiled faintly.
+
+"Rather a nasty wound," continued the surgeon. "Fickles, hand me those
+bandage scissors. Well, we must take a look at it." And he seated
+himself comfortably by the bedside.
+
+Miss Fickles, who had elevated Sir Richard to a sitting posture, now
+handed Sir Penniston the scissors, and the great physician leisurely cut
+the bandage from the arm. Mortmain winced with pain and closed his eyes.
+For an instant the outer air soothed the burning palm and forearm, then
+the blood crept into the veins and the pain became veritable agony.
+
+"Hm!" remarked Sir Penniston. "I must open this up. It needs attending
+to."
+
+He might well say so, for the edges of the wound showed tinges of
+yellow, and the hand itself was torn pitifully.
+
+"Scalscope, pass those instruments to Miss Fickles, and open that bottle
+of somni-chloride. I shall have to give you a whiff of anaesthetic,
+Mortmain. These little exploring expeditions are apt to be painful,
+however gentle we try to be. Just enough to make you a mere
+spectator--you will not lose consciousness. Wonderful, isn't it? I'm
+afraid I shall have to pick out some slivers of bone and trim off the
+edges a little. It will only take a moment or two. Then a nice bandage
+and you will be quite at ease."
+
+While Jermyn was emptying Sir Penniston's bag of its heterogeneous
+contents, Miss Fickles boiled the surgeon's implements in a tray of
+water over a tiny electric stove, and then arranged them in order upon a
+soft bed of padded cotton. Scalscope pulled a table to the bedside, and
+laid out with military precision rolls of linen, absorbents, antiseptic
+gauze, scissors, tape, thread, needles, and finally the little bottle of
+somni-chloride. The nurse lowered Sir Richard back upon the pillow and
+quickly twisted a fresh towel into a cone.
+
+"How science leaps onward," continued Sir Penniston, meditatively
+taking the cone in his left hand. "Anodyne, ether, chloroform, nitrous
+oxide, ethyl-chloride, and at last the greatest of all boons,
+somni-chloride! And all within my lifetime--that is really the most
+extraordinary part of it. Ah, what are the miracles of art to the
+miracles of science? Think of being able at last, as you heard me
+announce, to feel sure of never permanently losing a limb!"
+
+He allowed a single drop from the bottle to fall into the cone. Even as
+it descended it resolved itself into a lilac-colored volatile filling
+the cone like a horn of plenty. Sir Penniston held it with a smile just
+over Mortmain's head and suffered it to escape gently downward. At the
+first faint odor the baronet felt a perfect calm steal over his tired
+brain, at the second he seemed translated from his body and hovering
+above it, retaining the while an almost supernatural acuteness of eye
+and ear. Of bodily pain he felt nothing. Then Crisp inverted the cone
+and poured out the lilac smoke in a faint iridescent cloud, which eddied
+round the baronet's head and filled his nostrils with the sweet
+fragrance of an old-fashioned garden. Its perfume almost smothered him,
+and for a moment his eyes were blurred as if he had inhaled a breath of
+strong ammonia. Then his sight cleared and he no longer smelled the
+flowers. The surgeon laid down the cone and took up a small, thin knife.
+
+"Fickles, hold the wrist; you, Scalscope, the fingers. Thank you, that
+will do nicely."
+
+Mortmain watched with fascinated interest as Sir Penniston applied the
+point to his palm. Then the surgeon suddenly raised his head and looked
+pityingly at Sir Richard. At the same moment the effect of the
+somni-chloride began to wear off and the baronet felt a throbbing in
+his hand. Jermyn also cast a glance of compassion at the patient, while
+Miss Fickles turned away her head as if unable to bear the sight of his
+suffering.
+
+"My poor Mortmain," said the surgeon. "I fear you can never use this
+hand again."
+
+Mortmain caught his breath and choked.
+
+"What do you mean?" he gasped, and the effort sent a sharp pain through
+his lungs. "Not use my hand again?" His words sounded like the roar of a
+waterfall.
+
+"I fear you cannot. It is an ugly-looking wound. I am sorry to say you
+will have to lose your hand. We shall be lucky if we can save the arm."
+
+Mortmain felt an extraordinary pity for himself. He sobbed aloud. He had
+been vaguely aware that certain unfortunate persons in lowly
+circumstances occasionally lost their limbs. He was accustomed to
+contribute handsomely toward the homes for cripples and the blind, but
+he had never associated such an affliction with himself. He could not
+appreciate the proximity of it. There must be a mistake--or an
+alternative.
+
+"No, no, no!" he exclaimed heavily. "Surely, you can restore my hand by
+treatment. I do not care how painful or tedious it may be. Why, I _must_
+have my hand. I have it now. Leave it as it is. I shall recover in
+time."
+
+Sir Penniston smiled cheerfully.
+
+"I am sorry," he repeated, and Mortmain fancied that he detected a gleam
+of exultation in his eye. "Nothing can save it. Gangrene has already set
+in. The verdigris of the vase has poisoned the flesh. Do you think I
+would trifle with you? That is not my business. Be a man. It is hard;
+true enough. But it might be much worse."
+
+"But my music!" cried Mortmain in agony. "I shall be a miserable
+cripple! A fellow with an empty sleeve or a stuffed hand in a glove!
+Horrible!" He groaned.
+
+"You have still another," remarked the surgeon calmly. "Bind up this
+arm," he ordered, turning sharply to Jermyn. "Mortmain, I shall have to
+amputate your hand at the wrist within twelve hours. Do you desire a
+consultation? I assure you any physician would unhesitatingly give the
+same opinion. Still, if you desire----"
+
+The room swam about the baronet, and for an instant the two surgeons
+seemed like two ogres hovering aloft with bloodthirsty faces glowering
+down at his helpless body.
+
+Scalscope finished the bandage and tied the ends. Then he looked across
+at Crisp and remarked:
+
+"How fortunate, Sir Penniston, that your experiments have been concluded
+in time to save Sir Richard. He will be the very first to benefit by
+your great discovery!"
+
+Crisp smiled responsively.
+
+"What is that?" cried Mortmain. "Save me? What do you mean?"
+
+"Merely this, Mortmain. That if you are willing I may still give you a
+hand in place of this ruined one. It is possible, as I announced
+yesterday, to graft another in its place."
+
+Mortmain stared stupidly at Sir Penniston. A great weight seemed
+stifling him.
+
+"Did you really _mean_ it?" he gasped.
+
+"Precisely," returned the surgeon. "It will be difficult, but not
+particularly dangerous."
+
+"Another's hand!" groaned the baronet.
+
+"And why not?" eagerly continued the surgeon. "Surely some one will be
+found who can be induced for a proper consideration to assist in an
+operation that will restore to usefulness so distinguished a member of
+society."
+
+"But is it _right_?" gasped Mortmain. "Is it lawful to maim a
+fellow-creature merely to serve oneself?" The idea disgusted him.
+
+"As you please," remarked Crisp dryly. "If you are to avail yourself of
+this opportunity, which has never been offered to another, you must say
+so at once. If you are indifferent to the loss of your hand or distrust
+my skill, there is nothing left but to amputate and be done with it."
+
+"It cannot be right!" moaned Mortmain. "I know it is a wicked thing."
+
+"Right?" sneered Crisp. "Why, I almost believe that it would be a sin if
+I let this opportunity go by."
+
+"What is that?" cried Miss Fickles sharply.
+
+There was a sharp knock at the door and Ashley Flynt entered, with a
+strange look on his face. Like a flash it occurred to Mortmain that the
+solicitor had called to see him about the bankruptcy. He looked again,
+and a terrible thought possessed him that it was for something else that
+the lawyer had come. Was it about the murder? Was he already suspected?
+Apprehension dwarfed the horror of Sir Penniston's suggestion.
+
+"Ah, Flynt," said the surgeon, "I am glad you have come. You can advise
+our friend here. I have offered to give him a new hand in place of the
+one which he must lose. He's afraid that it is unlawful. Come, give us
+an opinion!"
+
+Flynt sank silently into an armchair and rested his finger tips lightly
+together.
+
+"Flynt," cried Mortmain, "what a terrible thing it is to deprive a
+fellow-creature of a limb. Is it legal? Is it not criminal?"
+
+Flynt gazed fixedly at Sir Richard for a moment without replying.
+
+"Situations sometimes arise," he remarked in a toneless voice, "where
+the results desired, even if they do not justify the means employed, at
+least render legal opinions superfluous."
+
+"I do not understand you," groaned Mortmain. "Do you mean that what Sir
+Penniston proposes is a crime?"
+
+"I mean that in a transaction of such moment the purely legal aspect of
+the case may be of slight importance."
+
+"Exactly!" exclaimed Sir Penniston, whose face had assumed an expression
+of uneasiness. "To be sure! How plain he puts things, Mortmain. The law
+does not concern us when the integrity of the human body is involved."
+
+"But if I require and insist upon your advice?" continued Mortmain. "You
+know that you are my solicitor."
+
+"In a matter of this kind I should refuse to give an opinion in a
+specific case touching the interest of a client," returned Flynt.
+
+"I must know the law!" cried the baronet.
+
+"Very well," replied Flynt. "I have examined the statutes and find that
+the maiming of another (save where such maiming is necessary to preserve
+his life or health), even with his consent, is a felony. That is the
+law, if you must have it."
+
+"Well, well!" exclaimed Crisp. "There are so many laws that one can't
+help violating some of them every day. What an absurd statute! It only
+shows how ignorant our legislators used to be! I am sure there were no
+scientific men in Parliament. It is nonsensical."
+
+Flynt gave a short laugh and arose.
+
+"My dear Sir Richard," he remarked dryly, "this is entirely a matter for
+your own conscience and that of your physician. I trust that you will
+soon recover. I have an important engagement. I must beg you to excuse
+me."
+
+"Gad, sir," cried Crisp, making a wry face toward the door as it closed
+behind the solicitor, "what a fellow that is! You might as well try to
+wring juice out of a paving stone. I feel quite irritated by him."
+
+"If I consent," said Mortmain, "do you think you can find a proper
+person to--to----"
+
+"My dear Mortmain," responded Sir Penniston eagerly, "leave that to us.
+You may be sure that we shall accept no hand that is not perfect in
+every way and adapted to your particular needs. You need give yourself
+not the slightest uneasiness upon that score, I assure you. Of course,
+you will have to pay for it, but I am convinced that in an affair of
+this kind a satisfactory adjustment can easily be made--say, two hundred
+pounds down and an annuity of fifty pounds. How does that strike you?
+Why, it would be a godsend to many a poor fellow--say a clerk. He earns
+a beggarly five pounds a month. You give him two hundred pounds and as
+much a year for doing nothing as he was earning working ten hours a
+day."
+
+The pains in Mortmain's hand had begun again with renewed intensity and
+his whole arm throbbed in response. He felt excited and feverish, and
+his thoughts no longer came with the same clearness and consecutiveness
+as before. It was evident to him that Crisp's diagnosis was correct. But
+shocking as was the realization that he, who had been in the prime of
+health but a few hours before, must now undergo a major operation, it
+was as nothing compared with the moral difficulty in which he found
+himself. All his inherited tendencies drew him back from a violation of
+the law, particularly a violation which included the maiming of a
+fellow-being; and so, for that matter, did all his acquired tastes and
+characteristics. On the other hand, his confidence in Crisp's skill and
+knowledge was such that he never for an instant doubted his ability
+successfully to achieve that which he had proposed.
+
+"But the law! The law!" cried Mortmain in a last and almost pathetic
+effort to oppose that which he now in reality desired. Crisp laughed
+almost sneeringly.
+
+"What is the law? The law is for the general good, not the individual.
+Are we to follow it blindly when to do so would be suicidal? Bah! The
+law never dares transgress the sacred circle of a physician's
+discretion."
+
+"I suppose that is quite true!" exclaimed Sir Richard faintly. "I leave
+it to you. Do as you think best. I will follow your instructions. But I
+am suffering. My hand tortures me horribly. Let us have it over with as
+soon as possible. How soon can you make your arrangements?"
+
+"By this afternoon, Sir Richard."
+
+Mortmain sank back. In his eagerness he had half raised himself from the
+pillow, and now a sensation of nausea accompanied by dizziness took
+possession of him. He saw things dimly and in distorted forms. There
+was a strange roaring in his head as of a multitude of waters and he
+perceived that Crisp and Jermyn were talking eagerly together. He caught
+disconnected words muttered hurriedly in low tones. They moved slowly
+toward the door and he distinctly heard Crisp say as they passed out:
+
+"Yes, Flaggs is the very man!"
+
+The words filled him with a nameless terror.
+
+"Stop!" he cried, "stop! I will have nothing to do with that man--do you
+hear? Stop! Comeback!" But the door closed, and Mortmain, helpless and
+trembling, again fell back and shut his eyes.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+It was cold in the train--icy cold, and in spite of his fur coat Sir
+Richard found himself shivering. Only his arm hanging in a splint burned
+with the fires of hell, as if imps with red-hot pincers were slowly
+tearing apart the nerves. Sir Penniston, sitting opposite, smiled
+encouragingly at him.
+
+There were several people in the carriage. The lamps had been lighted
+and in the corner, beside a large black case, sat Jermyn. Next to him
+came Joyce, looking exceedingly respectable and very solemn. But the
+other three he did not remember to have seen before--that tall,
+white-whiskered man in the otter collar: he probably had been presented
+and Sir Richard had forgotten. Then there was a big, broad-shouldered
+fellow in a soft cap, and next to him a slender, white-faced youth whose
+chin was buried in the depths of his coat collar, and whose hands were
+thrust deep into his pockets. The big man looked out the window
+occasionally and inquired the time, but the youth beside him kept his
+eyes fast shut and hardly moved. Had he not been sitting bolt upright
+Sir Richard fancied that the latter might have been taken for a corpse.
+
+"Woxton next stop, gentlemen!" announced the guard, opening the door for
+an instant as the train paused at a way station. A cold blast of air
+followed and Mortmain's teeth chattered. It was quite dark in the
+compartment and he felt very weak and miserable. He could not remember
+getting aboard the train, but the purport of it all was unmistakable.
+The agonies of the morning rushed back across his memory, and his hand
+throbbed and twisted within the splint. He felt sick and faint and the
+atmosphere of the carriage seemed suffocating.
+
+"How much farther is it?" inquired the man in the otter collar. "We've
+been traveling for hours!"
+
+"Only eight miles," answered Crisp cheerfully. "It certainly has seemed
+an unearthly distance."
+
+There was a long silence punctuated only by the puffing of the engine
+and the shriek of the whistle. Suddenly the pale young man whimpered.
+The sound sent a chill to the marrow of Sir Richard's spine.
+
+"If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee--"
+whispered the youth. Then he fell to sobbing in the depths of his
+collar, but without opening his eyes.
+
+"Come, come, my man! None of that!" cried Crisp angrily. "You're a lucky
+fellow! Why, your fortune is as good as made."
+
+Mortmain shuddered.
+
+"If thy hand offend thee--" he repeated to himself. "If thy hand
+offend----"
+
+Then he became conscious of still another presence somewhere--a presence
+that watched him furtively, but hungrily, with eager, greedy eyes. He
+stared along the seats and into the crannies. Could it have been a face
+at the window? No, the black night rushed by steadily and blankly. And
+yet he could not convince himself that another face had not been there a
+moment before.
+
+The train slowed up with a screeching of the brakes and came to a stop.
+The door was flung open; his companions hurriedly arose, and the
+broad-shouldered young man placed his arm protectingly about the baronet
+and assisted him to the platform. A fine snow was sifting down silently
+over the lamplit road and upon two large depot wagons standing beside
+the station. Again Mortmain was conscious of a presence. He glanced
+quickly across the platform and thought he saw a shadow spring from a
+rear carriage and leap into the darkness of the bushes.
+
+"What was that?" he gasped.
+
+But the others paid no attention, being busily engaged in deporting
+their cases and portmanteaus. The train started on again. Only the
+station agent was left, his lantern making an opaque circle in the
+intense darkness of the snow-filled night.
+
+The horses champed impatiently, and as quickly as was possible the party
+divided and climbed into the wagons, Crisp, the nurse, and Mortmain
+entering the last. The doors were slammed to and they started. Still
+Mortmain felt convinced that they were not alone. Looking back just as
+they were leaving the dim lights of the station, he could have sworn
+that he saw the figure of a man running steadily along behind, crouching
+low against the road. To the south a distant glow bespoke the presence
+of a village, but the wagons swung sharply to the north and plunged into
+a wood.
+
+A drowsiness had come over the baronet and he pressed close to the
+nurse, terrified and shaken by the dread of some approaching peril. This
+hired man seemed nearer to him than any other living soul. He cried
+softly, fearing to be observed, and the tears coursed down his hot
+cheeks and lost themselves in his furs. Now and then he would listen
+intently for the sound of some one running, but he could hear nothing
+save the crunch of the wheels and the jingle of the harness. Yet he knew
+that just behind them, clinging to their wheel, was pressing that
+mysterious figure that had leaped into the darkness beside the station.
+
+After what seemed an hour, a bend in the road disclosed a single light
+not far ahead and in a few moments the wagons stopped before a high
+wall. The party got out and Crisp opened the gate. Mortmain stared
+fixedly down the road, waiting for the unbidden guest to creep swiftly
+into view.
+
+"Here we are!" cried Sir Penniston. "Wait a moment until I notify the
+farmer."
+
+As the surgeon hastened up the paved walk to the cottage, the wagons
+turned and started back at a brisk trot, like a home-going funeral
+procession. All the windows were dark and Mortmain clung sobbing to the
+nurse's arm.
+
+"Hit's all right, sir," whispered the latter sympathetically. "Hit's all
+right!"
+
+Slowly the party made their way to the porch. A light appeared in the
+lower windows, then the door was opened. The nurse, half carrying the
+baronet, helped him into the hall and seated him upon a wooden chair. As
+the door closed Mortmain saw a shadow at the gate.
+
+"Look! Look!" he cried. The warm air swallowed him up; he felt a rush of
+blood to his neck and face; the figures about him swayed and swam in the
+dim light; there was a stabbing pain in his hand and he knew no more.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+When Mortmain was able to reappear in society he was astonished to find
+that the murder of Lord Russell was no longer a matter of interest or of
+discussion. The temporarily shocked and horrified community had
+apparently within a short time placidly accepted it, and apart from
+occasional references in the newspapers, it was rapidly becoming a mere
+matter of history, taking its proper chronological place in the long
+list of London's unsolved mysteries. It had been given out at the time
+that the horrible death of his old friend had so prostrated the baronet
+that he had been threatened with total collapse, and had only been
+restored to health by remaining in bed under the constant care of a
+certain distinguished physician. At times Mortmain was almost inclined
+to believe this himself, for the ghastly night at the lonely farmhouse,
+his ensuing illness and slow recovery, seemed, in the full swing of the
+London season and contrasted with the brilliant colors of its
+festivities, less actuality than a dreadful nightmare which continually
+obtruded itself upon his recollection. He had resumed his place in
+fashionable life with his old assurance, picking up his cards where he
+had left them lying face downward upon the table. Within a week he was
+again "among those present" at every gathering of note, and he had
+dropped hints of his intention to give a new and unique musical
+entertainment which was to surpass anything of the kind theretofore
+attempted. He had also resumed his attentions to Lady Bella Forsythe
+with a definite purpose--that of rendering himself financially
+impregnable.
+
+But Sir Richard was not the same. His glass showed him to be paler than
+of yore, his eyes more deeply sunken, his hair touched at the edges with
+a ghost of white, the lines of his mouth more firmly marked. His friends
+jokingly told him that he was growing old. He had paid a heavy price for
+what he had bought, yet it was not loss of vitality, not physical shock
+alone that had thus aged him, but a ghastly, damning fact that never
+left him for an instant, waking or sleeping: _the fact that the man had
+died_. They had not told him at first--it might have affected his cure.
+The result upon his spiritual being when he learned of it had been no
+less disastrous. _The man had died._ There was no longer any pensioner
+to claim his annuity; no creditor even to demand the price of his awful
+bargain; no witness to testify to its hideous terms--he had fled the
+jurisdiction of all earthly courts. Sir Richard was free. But the
+thought of that life forfeited to his own egotism was a millstone about
+his neck, bowing him forever to the ground.
+
+He intentionally talked frankly of Lord Russell. The old man had been
+highly respected and, indeed, moderately prominent in philanthropic
+circles. Mortmain had made a point of going personally to see the
+bas-relief erected to his memory. He learned that the next of kin was a
+Devon man who never came up to town, and that the executors had taken
+possession almost immediately and disposed of the house to an American
+millionaire, who was even now remodeling the historic mansion, inserting
+Grecian columns and putting on a Chateau de Nevers roof. Of course he
+inspected this with friends, was properly disgusted, and seized the
+opportunity to gratify his curiously morbid hunger for the details of
+the murder. He learned that, though few of the facts were known to the
+public, opinion had crystallized into a settled acceptance that the
+murderer had made good his escape and that the identity of the murderer
+was known. In fact, the silence of Scotland Yard was rendered nugatory
+by the reward of L1,000 offered by the County Council for the
+apprehension of Saunders Leach, the recently discharged secretary of the
+philanthropist. Nothing had been heard of him since Lord Russell's
+butler had admitted him to the house, an hour or two before the murder,
+upon his representation that he had come to look over some papers at the
+request of his erstwhile master. The butler, a most respectable person,
+had introduced him into the library, where Lord Russell was, and
+departed. He had recalled afterwards--it had come out at the hearing at
+the Central Criminal Court--that he had heard the sound of voices raised
+at a high pitch, but, as his master was at times somewhat querulous,
+this had not particularly attracted his attention. An hour later, when
+he had brought the evening papers, he had discovered the aged man lying
+face downward upon his desk, and a window, bearing the bloody traces of
+the assassin, open to the night. And Leach had vanished--as if he had
+never lived.
+
+The thing most puzzling to Sir Richard, as to everybody else, was the
+failure of any apparent motive for so ghastly a deed. Leach, according
+to old Floyd the butler, had been a very decent sort of fellow, rather
+sickly Floyd took him to be, without any particular faults or virtues.
+It seemed to outrage reason to suppose that an anaemic little clerk
+could have murdered a helpless old man simply out of revenge for having
+lost his place. And then nothing had been stolen--that is, nobody but
+Sir Richard knew that anything had been stolen. Yet the public and the
+London County Council pronounced unhesitatingly as established fact that
+Saunders Leach was the assassin, and that he should be hunted down to
+the very ends of the world and, if need be, followed into the next. Only
+Scotland Yard remained silent after annexing the contents of the room,
+the windows, the carpet, and even portions of the faded paper from the
+very walls themselves. Then Parliament went into a convulsion over a
+proposed excise alteration and London forgot the murder of Lord Russell
+in its feverish interest in the expected legislative abortion. There was
+an appeal to the country; a premier retired to Italy; some few thousands
+were added to the credit column of the national ledger at the expense of
+a ministry, and once more the advent of royalty at St. James's dazzled
+the cockney eye and filled the cockney mouth to the stultification of
+the cockney brain. Lord Russell was forgotten--as completely as Saunders
+Leach--as totally as an isle sunk beneath the waters of oblivion.
+
+The first time Sir Richard had essayed to write he had been deliciously
+horrified at the ease with which his pencil had followed the pressure of
+his new fingers. His recent clothes added an extra inch to his sleeves,
+and his broad cuffs fully concealed the white seam that ran around his
+wrist. The hand itself served his purposes well enough, but unmistakably
+it was not his own. He never laid the two together--never let his eyes
+fall upon the vicarious fingers if he could avoid it, for inevitably a
+sickening sensation of repulsion followed. His own fingers were long
+and tapering, the nails fine with pronounced "crowns," the back of the
+hand slender and smooth; the new one was broader and hairy, the fingers
+shorter and square at the ends, the nails thick and dull with no
+"crowns," and the veins blue and prominent. There were too many pores!
+
+He loathed the thing, tell himself as often as he would that it was
+nothing but a mechanical device to supplement Nature. Physically he felt
+as if he were wearing a glove that was too small for him, into which he
+had been forced to stuff his hand. This seemed to produce a tight,
+swollen sensation which was the only indication of his abnormal
+condition. He ate, drove, used his keys, articulated his fingers, and
+even wrote with the same muscular freedom as before. His chirography
+actually and undeniably exhibited the same general characteristics, only
+intensified and with less certainty of stroke and pen-pressure. The
+letters which had previously been merely somewhat original in structure
+as suited a man of fashion, now became humpbacked and deformed. It was
+as though the spiritual qualities of Sir Richard's penmanship had shrunk
+away, leaving only the grotesque residue of a dwarfed and evil nature.
+
+But apart from the question of chirography one other manifestation
+constantly reminded Mortmain of his crime. This was an itching in the
+grafted hand whenever its possessor became angry or excited. Even hard
+physical exercise produced the same phenomenon. It seemed as if Nature,
+having provided for the circulation of a certain amount of blood, found
+on reaching this particular extremity that the supply exceeded the power
+of reception. If angered, he found himself indulging in ungovernable
+fits of passion, with his eyes suffused and his head buzzing. At times
+he experienced an almost irresistible impulse to throttle somebody. On
+the slightest provocation the fingers of his right hand would curve and
+clutch, and a fierce longing seize him to compass the extinction of life
+in some animate being--to feel the slackening of the muscles in some
+victim--an emotion elemental, barbarous, cruel, but keen, masterful and
+pervading. He had an exhilarating sensation of strength and vitality new
+to him. Moreover, his attitude toward his fellow-men had imperceptibly
+altered. Before his operation he had hated all evil doers and been
+strongly loyal to government and law; now he sympathized with the
+lawbreakers. In defying society and deliberately violating its statutes,
+he had allied himself with its enemies.
+
+This he realized and accepted. At any moment he might be called upon to
+face a criminal prosecution for the felony of mutilation; and there was
+still the peculiar and inexplicable silence of Flaggs in regard to the
+papers which he had taken away with him on the morning after the murder.
+No word had ever passed between them on the subject, and yet the notes
+were outstanding and in the hands of a more dangerous holder than even
+Lord Russell himself. By merely handing them to the executors, Flaggs
+could not only throw Sir Richard into bankruptcy, but could place him in
+the awkward position of having suppressed the notes at the time of Lord
+Russell's death. That, too, would lead to a still further and more
+delicate complication. He would naturally be asked how he had secured
+possession of the notes. It would be clear that they were in Lord
+Russell's hands at the time of the murder. Flaggs would explain that
+_he_ had procured them from Sir Richard. So far as _he_ was concerned,
+he had been safely "jugged" at the time of the murder. He could call a
+score of sergeants, matrons, and bobbies to prove that, and establish it
+by the police records themselves. Where, then, people would want to
+know, had Sir Richard obtained them? It would be a hard question to
+answer in such a way that the answer would carry any sort of conviction
+with it.
+
+No one, of course, would believe that he had found them, as in fact was
+the case. Any such explanation would excite instant suspicion. If he
+should say that he had paid them and had received the notes from Lord
+Russell's lawyers, inquiry would at once demonstrate that the lawyers
+had never had possession of the notes, or received any money from Sir
+Richard. If he said that he had taken the money to Lord Russell and
+received the notes _from him_, his own evidence would place him upon the
+scene of the murder at approximately the moment of it. Further, no draft
+in payment of the notes would be found among Lord Russell's papers, and
+the suspicion would immediately arise that he had proffered a forged
+draft to secure possession of the notes, and then murdered the old man
+to get it back.
+
+It was indeed a predicament of the worst sort. In Sir Richard the
+horrible unfairness of it bred a hatred for a society in which such
+things were possible. He looked at any moment to find himself made the
+defendant in a criminal prosecution, just or unjust--the unjust the more
+difficult of the two to escape. He needed money--money to fight with,
+money to live on, money to keep up his hollow pretense of
+respectability. And as his attitude toward society gradually changed,
+the dead-alive thing at his wrist with the white seam throbbed and
+itched until Mortmain longed fiercely to tear it off. At night he would
+dream--and this dream repeated itself over and over again--that he was
+fastened to some miserable convict, shackled by the wrist in such a way
+that somehow they two had grown together, and as he struggled in his
+sleep his fellow would turn into the grinning, jeering image of
+Flaggs--Flaggs fastened to him by a bond of burning, itching
+flesh--Flaggs joined to him like a Siamese twin, flesh of his flesh,
+blood of his blood--until by some unnatural evolution _he_ became Flaggs
+and could see his own wretched shape writhing at the other end of their
+mutual arm. Then shaking, chilled, and covered with perspiration he
+would awake and look for Flaggs beside him, and hold his hand to the
+blue night-light only to find the seam about his wrist and the
+dead-white hand throbbing until he thought he should go mad.
+
+By day he was haunted by the vision of Flaggs watching his house and
+following him along the streets. He could not get the fellow out of his
+mind. This terror of the drunken clerk became a positive obsession. As
+he walked the streets or drove in his brougham through the park he was
+constantly planning out what he should say when they should finally come
+together--when Flaggs should call for him, summon him as his own. Could
+he defy him? Could he palliate him? The hand twitched at the thought of
+it. He fancied that Flaggs followed him everywhere in various disguises,
+running swiftly behind, dodging into doorways and up side streets when
+he turned around. And this habit of turning around and glancing
+furtively up and down grew on Sir Richard, and with it grew the itching
+in his hand, until he suspected that people shook their heads and said
+that his illness had undermined his health more than they had supposed.
+
+It was no bodily illness that thus affected Sir Richard, but spiritual
+degeneration. He went from dinner party to dinner party and from
+musicale to musicale, paying court to Lady Bella Forsythe as if no
+grotesque face were peering from behind the arras of his brain. Yet in
+reality he was preparing to meet Flaggs in the final struggle for
+supremacy. Flaggs, like death and the tax man, was coming--_when_? He
+could not tell, but inevitably. And he must be ready, armed _cap-a-pie_
+to meet him on every ground. He had at last resolved to marry Lady
+Bella. It was an essential in his campaign to defeat Flaggs. There must
+be plenty of money--money, that was what he needed, what he wanted. It
+was partly for Lady Bella that he had planned his musical entertainment,
+for, in addition to its practical desirability, if he purposed to retain
+his position in the social world, it would afford an excellent
+opportunity for presenting himself to her as a person worthy of her own
+high station and acquaintance. His own music--! Alas! the brain was
+willing, but the fingers were powerless. Where before he had produced
+the most delicate of harmonies there now resulted nothing but harsh
+discords. The hand would not stretch an octave!
+
+The Milbank Street house blazed into the early evening with a thousand
+lights. All day long wagons of roses and asters had stood before the
+doors, and aproned men had staggered into the hall with pots of flowers
+and stands of palms. Confectioners' wagons, loads of camp chairs, and
+now a large awning were the indubitable evidences of what was afoot.
+Night came on. The white cloth on the carpet across the sidewalk was
+trampled to a dirty gray. The orchestra began to arrive, and, shedding
+their coats in the servants' entrance, toiled up the back stairs and
+tentatively made their way through the flower-banked halls to the
+conservatory. Sir Richard sitting in his den and awaiting the arrival of
+his first guests could hear the musicians tuning their basses and
+testing the wood winds. But there was no music in Sir Richard's soul.
+All day long he had been haunted by the ghost of Flaggs scuttling behind
+him, and his hand had seemed swollen and discolored. Well, if he could
+but get through the night, could succeed in his suit with Lady Bella, he
+would go away and rest. Perhaps he would leave London forever--Lady
+Bella was very fond of Rome. The sounds of the instruments grew more
+confused and louder, the violins mingling with the others. Occasionally
+the trombones would boom out and the kettles rumble ominously. Outside
+splashes of rain began to fall against the windows, and the wind,
+catching in the hollow column of the awning, swept into the halls and
+through the open door into the den. Mortmain looked at his watch and
+found it was ten o'clock. People would be arriving soon. His hand
+twitched and he lighted a cigarette. There was a great deal of traffic
+in the front hall--too much. He closed the door and poured out a
+thimbleful of brandy. Well, a day or two and he would be rid of Flaggs
+forever! Then he heard a low knock. He tried to cheat himself into the
+belief that it was Joyce.
+
+"Come in," he cried, but his voice was husky.
+
+Flaggs stood before him.
+
+"I have been expecting you," said Mortmain. It did not seem strange that
+he should make this declaration.
+
+"Yes?" queried Flaggs.
+
+"What do you want?" demanded the baronet.
+
+"Ten thousand pounds," answered the clerk. "To-morrow."
+
+Mortmain broke into a harsh laugh.
+
+"Ha! my good fellow! What do you think I am--a Croesus? Come, come, I'll
+give you fifty--and I get the notes, eh?"
+
+"Ten thousand pounds," repeated Flaggs stubbornly, "by to-morrow noon,
+or I hand you over to the police."
+
+The blood jumped into Sir Richard's face and his dexter hand throbbed
+and tingled.
+
+"You miserable rascal!" he cried. "You wretched blackmailer! How dare
+you come into my house? Do you know that I could _kill_ you? And no one
+would ever be the wiser! Take a few pounds and be off with you or I'll
+summon the police myself."
+
+"Not so fast, not so fast, Sir Richard," muttered Flaggs. "I don't think
+you'll call the police."
+
+The look on the white scowling face before him told Sir Richard that the
+fellow meant to do his business. A haunting fear seized hold upon him
+like that which he had experienced in the depot wagon--a feeling that
+behind this grotesque, dwarfed figure of a man lurked the hand of Fate.
+
+"That's right. Be reasonable," said Flaggs soothingly. "Some folks would
+think ten thousand pounds was cheap to escape the gallows," he added in
+lower tones.
+
+"Gallows!" cried Sir Richard, his anger rising. He knew the fellow's
+game now. He was being lied to. Flaggs was trying to frighten, to bully
+him. "The gallows, my friend, ceased to be the punishment for felony in
+1826--even for blackmail!"
+
+"But not for murder," retorted Flaggs with a ghastly smile. "Not for
+murder!"
+
+"Enough of this!" exclaimed Sir Richard, but his knees were trembling.
+"Here are a hundred pounds. Go!" He put his hand to his breast pocket.
+
+Flaggs laughed.
+
+"Look!" he cried, pulling from the lining of his hat a printed slip
+which he unfolded and handed to the baronet.
+
+Mortmain took it in dread and held it to the light.
+
+      "_Murder in the first degree defined._
+
+      "_The taking of the life of a human being by another
+      with malice prepense or in the commission of a
+      felony._"
+
+The last six words were underlined in red ink.
+
+"Well?" he asked, but the word stuck in his throat.
+
+"Well?" returned the other. "It's plain enough, isn't it? What more do
+you want?"
+
+"It is not plain, you blackguard."
+
+"Maiming is a felony. You know that. Amputation is maiming. Flynt told
+you so. The fellow that sold you that hand of yours died of it, didn't
+he?"
+
+Mortmain uttered an exclamation of horror. He looked down at the fearful
+thing and it seemed to him to be the color of death. "They can never
+prove it!" he cried faintly. "They can't prove it! They cannot!"
+
+"Yes, they can! I saw it done," remarked Flaggs. "I saw him buried in
+the garden. He is there yet--minus his hand."
+
+"You villain!" gasped Mortmain. The room reeled, and Flaggs danced
+before him, gibbering with glee. The light darkened and brightened again
+and seemed to swing in circles.
+
+"Pull yourself together, Sir Richard!" remarked Flaggs mockingly. "Pull
+yourself together! Isn't it worth ten thousand pounds or one hundred
+thousand pounds? But I'm reasonable. Only ten thousand pounds! Come,
+come! Let me have it!"
+
+"_No!_" shouted Mortmain. "Not if I die for it."
+
+"Then you _will_ die for it," said Flaggs.
+
+The sound of the fiddles came through the closed door of the study. The
+cries of the lackeys and the roll of carriages arriving and departing
+could be heard in the front.
+
+"You will die for it, as there is a God in heaven, if I choose!"
+
+Mortmain stood silent. He had a presentiment of what Flaggs was going to
+say.
+
+"A word from me," continued the clerk, "and you hang for the _murder of
+Lord Russell_. Everyone knows you hated him. Flynt, Joyce, and I heard
+you say you would kill him. You owed him seventy-five thousand pounds
+and it was two days overdue. He would have ruined you next day. The
+officer saw you outside his window within five minutes of the murder,
+and so did I. There was nothing taken but the notes--nothing. They were
+found in your possession the next morning. How did they get there? The
+case is complete. The notes convict you. I've got them. They are yours
+for ten thousand pounds--only ten thousand pounds."
+
+"You villain," shouted Mortmain, springing toward him.
+
+The door from the hall opened and Joyce entered letting in the warm
+breath of roses and the loud strains of a waltz.
+
+"Lady Bella has arrived, Sir Richard," he announced.
+
+"Tell her I am coming," said Mortmain, starting for the door.
+
+"Wait!" shrieked Flaggs, his face horribly distorted. "Wait!" Joyce had
+retired.
+
+Mortmain paused with clinched fists.
+
+"Isn't it worth ten thousand pounds to save a guilty man--a man who
+can't escape?"
+
+"Why, you fool!" cried Mortmain, suddenly regaining his self-control.
+"Such evidence is valueless. My word is worth _yours_ ten times over,
+and I deny that you found the notes in my house. I say that _you_ are
+the murderer. And I believe you are!"
+
+"Not so fast! Not so fast!" leered Flaggs. "You know I was 'in quod' at
+the time. Don't forget that! And there's one more bit of evidence that
+nails you. You can't escape. You're done. I've got you--_the murderer's
+thumb marks on the glass_!"
+
+"The devil take you!" yelled Mortmain, the blood suffusing his eyes.
+
+"The devil has _you_ already!" retorted Flaggs. "He's part of you. You
+_are_ the devil. Whose hand is that? Tell me that! _Whose hand is
+that?_"
+
+Mortmain turned an agonized face toward his tormentor. His spirit was
+gone. He was ready to fall upon his knees, but he could not move. He
+raised his left hand pitifully as if to shield himself from the coming
+blow, and yet his parched lips uttered the soundless word:
+
+"Whose?"
+
+Flaggs gave a dry laugh.
+
+"_It belonged to Saunders Leach!_"
+
+With a sickening of the heart the baronet realized for the first time
+the terrible alternative which confronted him.
+
+His selfish willingness to violate the law and mutilate a fellow human
+being merely to gratify his own vanity had plunged him into an abyss
+from which there seemed no escape. "Murder in the first degree defined:
+the taking of the life of a human being by another with malice prepense
+_or in the commission of a felony_." By a cruel yet extraordinary chance
+he, the needless yet deliberate lawbreaker, had purchased the very hand
+which had slain his enemy--from the murderer himself, who was only too
+anxious to get rid of it. By an equally hideous but astonishing
+coincidence this devil's contract had proved in fact the death warrant
+of the murderer, and Mortmain had been his involuntary executioner.
+Saunders Leach had paid the penalty of his crime, but Mortmain carried
+dangling at the end of his dexter forearm the living evidence that he,
+and not Leach, was the assassin. The coil of the rope of fate, at one
+end of which hung the limp body of the common criminal, had fallen upon
+the neck of his aristocrat brother, and it needed but a word from Flaggs
+to send him spinning from the gallows. Should he seek to show that the
+finger prints upon the window of Lord Russell's library were not his
+own, and by this means to creep from beneath the meshes of the net of
+circumstantial evidence in which he was entangled, he would, in the same
+breath, be forced to confess that he was guilty of the murder of
+Saunders Leach--murder, as the result of the latter's mutilation--murder
+under the literal interpretation of the statute. Was ever rat so nicely
+trapped? The horror of the thing turned Mortmain into a madman. He
+sprang at the clerk in a delirium of rage, his right hand clutched
+Flaggs tightly by the throat, and its blunt fingers twisted into the
+flesh deeper and deeper. It was done so quickly that the clerk was
+unable to escape. His eyes started forward, his tongue protruded, and
+his mouth frothed as he made ineffectual attempts to break the baronet's
+hold.
+
+"You've got me, eh?" muttered Mortmain, gritting his teeth. "I think
+not, Mr. Flaggs!"
+
+The door opened and Joyce entered in much agitation. The orchestra had
+burst into a triumphant march and the sounds of many footsteps echoed in
+the hall outside.
+
+"Everybody is arrivin', Sir Richard!" exclaimed the butler, "an' Lady
+Bella has gone into the music room. His Grace of Belvoir was just askin'
+for you. Here are two gentlemen who wish to see you important, sir." He
+held the door open and two men in Inverness coats entered and stood
+irresolutely near the door.
+
+Mortmain released his grasp upon the neck of Flaggs, who lurched toward
+the corner and fell motionless behind a table.
+
+"Sir Richard Mortmain?" inquired the taller of the two, a man of massive
+build and with iron-gray mustache and hair.
+
+"The same," replied Mortmain, his fingers still twitching from the
+ferocity of his clutch upon the clerk.
+
+The two strangers bowed.
+
+"We have a card to you from Lieutenant Foraker--a friend of yours, I
+believe. Permit me," and the tall man stepped forward and extended a
+card to the baronet.
+
+Mortmain mechanically took it between the thumb and forefinger of his
+right hand. It felt like celluloid and a trifle slippery. But the
+stranger did not release his own hold upon it.
+
+"Pardon me, I have given you the wrong card," he exclaimed
+apologetically, and withdrawing the bit of board from Mortmain's fingers
+he opened a wallet and fumbled with the contents. As he did so he handed
+the first card to his companion, who stepped into the light of the lamp,
+and examined it carefully through a small microscope which he drew from
+his pocket.
+
+[Illustration: "His blunt fingers twisted into the flesh deeper and
+deeper."]
+
+"They are _the same_," remarked the stranger of the microscope to the
+iron-gray man.
+
+"What is all this?" cried Mortmain in an unnatural voice. His head swam.
+On the mantel the verdigris-covered dragon's face grinned mockingly at
+him--it was the face of Flaggs.
+
+"Sir Richard," replied the iron-gray man gravely, "I am Inspector
+Murtha, of Scotland Yard."
+
+Mortmain started back and his right hand twitched again. Through the
+silence came the measures of "The Flower Song."
+
+"I regret to say," continued the other, "that it is my most unpleasant
+duty to arrest you for the murder of Lord Gordon Russell."
+
+At the same instant the veil of Sir Richard's mental temple was rent in
+twain; out of a blackness so intense that it seemed substantive he saw
+the two inspectors from Scotland Yard fleeing away and diminishing in
+size until they seemed but puppets gesturing at the edge of an infinity
+of white desert; then with equal velocity they were carried forward
+again, growing bigger and bigger until they loomed like giants in his
+immediate foreground swinging huge scimitars and waving their arms
+frantically; the strains of the violins changed to voices shouting so
+sharply that they pained his ears, and waves of light and cosmic
+darkness over which scintillated a dazzling aurora followed one another
+in startling succession, until suddenly his soul, shot out of a tunnel,
+as it were, landed abruptly in a warm meadow covered with daisies, which
+dissolved before his eyes into the familiar chamber on Milbank Street. A
+gray mist floated hissing up through the ceiling, the chairs rocked with
+a strange rotary swing, and the two inspectors smiled cheerfully at him
+through a broad and painful band of London sunshine. He swallowed
+rapidly, and a horrible faintness seized him which gave place to a queer
+sort of anger.
+
+"There's--some--mistake!" he stuttered. The chairs anchored themselves
+and the ceiling assumed its normal tint.
+
+"No mistake at all," replied Sir Penniston Crisp.
+
+The problem was too much for the baronet and he gave it up. The
+murderer's hand no longer twitched, but it loomed white and loathsome
+from the bed before him, as if dead already, somehow--part of
+a--yes--what were those things? Bandages?
+
+Crisp and Jermyn saw a look of agonized bewilderment pass over the
+baronet's face.
+
+"Did they bring me here from the Old Bailey?" he asked. "Am I out on
+bail?"
+
+Crisp laughed.
+
+"That's one way of putting it," he remarked. "Yes, you're out on bail,
+and in another second or two you will be entirely free."
+
+"I'm glad you're going to take that thing off again," said Mortmain.
+"How could you have done it?"
+
+"It's all right," returned Crisp soothingly.
+
+Then Mortmain suddenly understood. But he waited shrewdly.
+
+"What day is this?" he asked in an innocent manner.
+
+"December 5th," replied Jermyn.
+
+"When did I have that fall; you know--the one that made it necessary for
+you to amputate?"
+
+"Your accident happened yesterday evening, but there is no necessity for
+amputation," returned Crisp. "Now, my dear fellow, just lie back, will
+you?--and don't ask questions. That somni-chloride is still lingering
+in your head. I shall have to be going in a minute."
+
+Mortmain obeyed the surgeon's instructions, but he was hard at work
+thinking the thing out logically. It was clear that there had been no
+amputation, no arrest, no inspectors from Scotland Yard. That scene with
+Flaggs, horribly distinct as it still was, had had no actuality. But
+where did fact end and illusion begin? Had the notes been taken? Had
+there been a murder? Was he a bankrupt? The different propositions
+entangled themselves helplessly with one another. At the end of a minute
+he asked deliberately:
+
+"Miss Fickles, did a man take some papers from my table this morning?"
+
+"Yes, Sir Richard," replied the nurse.
+
+Mortmain's heart sank.
+
+"Er--was--did anything happen to Lord Russell?" he asked the surgeon
+faintly.
+
+"Yes. But don't talk or think of it, Mortmain. I order you! Do you
+understand?"
+
+A ripple of perspiration broke out on his forehead and it seemed as if a
+film had rolled off his vision. Of course, he had taken the chloride
+just after Miss Fickles had gone downstairs for him, and then Crisp and
+Jermyn had come. He had felt so miserable! And now he felt so much
+better! He opened his eyes, the same Sir Richard that had inhaled the
+anaesthetic so obediently.
+
+"I am quite myself now, Sir Penniston," he asserted quietly. "I want to
+ask one more question. Flynt was not here, was he?"
+
+"No, of course not."
+
+"And we have not left the room? No railroad trip, eh?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Thank you," said the baronet. "May I have a cup of coffee?"
+
+What reply this preposterous demand would have invited will never be
+known, for at that moment a knock came upon the door and Joyce asked if
+Sir Richard could see Mr. Flynt.
+
+"I _must_ see him!" said Mortmain.
+
+"Oh, very well!" laughed Crisp. "You're getting better rapidly."
+
+Flynt entered with a breezy manner which he allowed himself to assume
+only when something really desirable had definitely occurred.
+
+"Good morning, Sir Penniston! Good morning, Sir Richard!" he remarked
+without sitting down. "I really had to come in and tell you the good
+news. The executors have just read Lord Russell's will----"
+
+"Mr. Flynt! Mr. Flynt!" interrupted Sir Penniston.
+
+"Oh, it's all right!" continued Flynt with a laugh. "Better than a
+tonic. You see, Fowler, the only next of kin, was just sailing for New
+Guinea, and it had to be done at once. I really did Lord Russell an
+injustice. May I speak before these gentlemen?"
+
+"Certainly," whispered Mortmain, his eyes fastened feverishly upon the
+lawyer.
+
+"Well, to put it briefly, he has made you a great gift! Here, read it!"
+and he handed the baronet a typewritten sheet. Mortmain read it eagerly,
+although his eyes pained him somewhat:
+
+      "To my friend, Sir Richard Mortmain, I devise and
+      bequeath the sum of five thousand pounds, and take it
+      upon myself to express the earnest hope that he will
+      before long publish his views upon art in such a form
+      that the public at large may have the opportunity to
+      profit by that which hitherto has been the privilege
+      only of the few. I desire, moreover, to express my
+      high personal regard for him and my admiration for his
+      whole-souled devotion to the arts, and I hereby
+      instruct my executors to cancel and destroy all
+      evidences of indebtedness owing to me by said Mortmain
+      and to treat said indebtedness as null, void and of no
+      effect, provided, nevertheless, that within six months
+      of my demise said Mortmain shall assign to the
+      directors of the Corporation of the British Museum all
+      his collections of ceramics, bronzes, china,
+      chronometers, scarabs, including the Howard
+      Collection, his cabinets of gems and cameos, including
+      the famous head of Alexander on an onyx of two strata
+      and the _altissimo relievo_ on cornelian--Jupiter
+      AEgiochus--the four paintings by Watteau in his music
+      room, and the paintings by Corot and Whistler from his
+      library. As the said moneys borrowed from me from time
+      to time by said Mortmain were, to my knowledge,
+      principally made use of by him for the purpose of
+      purchasing and enlarging said collections, which have
+      increased in value to no inconsiderable extent by
+      virtue of his care and discrimination since he
+      acquired them, I am prepared to regard said loans to
+      him in effect as gifts impressed with a trust in favor
+      of our National Museum, provided, however, that said
+      Mortmain is willing to accept the same and execute the
+      terms thereof as heretofore set forth within six
+      months; but nothing herein shall be taken to affect
+      the right of said Mortmain to take up and pay off said
+      indebtedness within said time, if he shall see fit to
+      do so, in which case the provisions of this codicil
+      shall be without any force or effect whatsoever, save
+      that I instruct my executors to receive said moneys
+      and hold the same in trust, however, for such
+      scientific and artistic uses as said Mortmain shall
+      direct, preference being given to the needs of the
+      British Museum along the lines of antique works of art
+      and Egyptology."
+
+As Sir Richard laid down the paper his eyes filled and he turned away
+his head.
+
+"A good old man!" said Flynt reverently.
+
+"Indeed he was!" assented Crisp.
+
+"I must know one thing," whispered Mortmain after a few moments. "Did
+you send your clerk here this morning to get some papers?"
+
+"Yes, to be sure. I had almost forgotten--I sent Flaggs after an
+envelope which I fancied I dropped last evening," answered the lawyer.
+
+"Which _you_ had dropped?" asked Mortmain stupidly.
+
+"Why, certainly. I had the papers connected with Lord Russell's loans
+sent here. Flaggs brought 'em--and I dropped an envelope. I _did_ drop
+it, because Flaggs found it here this morning."
+
+"What was in it?" asked Sir Richard eagerly.
+
+Flynt elevated his brows.
+
+"Why, if you don't mind my speaking of it, there were some old notes of
+yours which had been renewed at various times. I make a practice of
+keeping the originals as a matter of precaution."
+
+"Oh!" sighed Mortmain. "_Old_ notes?"
+
+"_Old_ notes," answered Flynt. "Notes taken up and renewed by others."
+
+"Ah!" sighed Mortmain again. "You _did_ drop them, but not in the
+study. I found them on the street. They gave me quite a turn."
+
+"Well, we will tear them up now," laughed Flynt.
+
+"Pardon me, sir," said Joyce, opening the door and handing a long box to
+Miss Fickles; "some roses with Lady Bella Forsythe's compliments, and
+'opin' as 'ow you'll soon be all right again, sir."
+
+
+
+
+THE RESCUE OF THEOPHILUS NEWBEGIN
+
+
+I
+
+
+The _Dirigo_ was a one-hundred-and-twenty-two foot gunboat, spick and
+span from the Cavite yard--lithe as a panther, swift as a petrel, gray
+as the mists off Hi-tai-sha--and she was his very own. The biggest,
+reddest day in all his twenty-three years of life was when the Admiral's
+order had come to leave the _Ohio_, where he had acted as a sort of
+apotheosized messenger boy and general escort to civilians' fat wives,
+and to proceed at once to Shanghai to assume command of her, provision
+and await further orders. It had cost him nine dollars and seventy-five
+cents to cable the joyful news adequately to his mother in Baltimore,
+and although the family resources were small--his father had died a
+lieutenant commander the year before--she had cabled back a "good luck
+and God bless you" to him. He only got as an ensign a paltry one hundred
+and twenty-eight dollars per month, and out of it came his mess bills
+and other expenses, but for all that he had enough to go down Nanking
+road and buy his mother a handsome mandarin cloak--Harry Dupont was
+going back on leave--and then to invite all the fellows he knew in
+Shanghai harbor to a jamboree at the club. It was going on at the time
+this story opens, boisterously and uproariously as befits the blow-out
+of a twenty-three-year old ensign who has just received his first
+command. The older civilians, who were drinking their comfortable
+"B & S" on the veranda, merely shrugged their shoulders as an impromptu
+refrain rose louder and louder to the pounding of bottles and the jingle
+of silverware.
+
+    Here's to the Kid and the _Dirigo_,
+    He's off for a cruise on the Hwang-ho!
+
+The officers of the squadron, not wishing to spoil the fun, slipped off
+to the billiard room or the bridge tables, or strolled back to the bar.
+Most of them had letters to write for the American mail, which would
+leave the following morning, and more than one sighed as he glanced
+toward the upper veranda from below the club house. They knew how many
+and how long the years would be before any of those boys would be called
+"captain"--well, let them enjoy themselves! What was the use of
+croaking? There were compensations--of a sort. Even if one's people
+_were_ all on the other side of the globe or migrating from boarding
+house to boarding house in a vain endeavor to keep up with the changes
+in the billets of their husbands and fathers, one was still an officer
+of Uncle Sam's navy.
+
+So reflected Follansbee, executive officer of the flagship _Ohio_, which
+had slipped into Woosung, ten miles below Shanghai, just as the sunset
+gun on the forts was echoing over the closely packed junks along the
+water front, and while the boy was engrossed to the extent of total
+oblivion with the club steward over the decoration of his dinner table
+and the choice between various highly recommended brands of Scotch and
+Irish. Follansbee was a good sort, who had already waited thirty-five
+years to get his battleship and was waiting still, and he had seen Jack
+Russell, the boy's father, die the year before at Teng-chan of a
+combination of liver and disappointment, all too common among naval
+officers in the East. Follansbee's own liver was none of the best, but
+he had cut down on the drink, and, anyhow, his wife was coming out on
+the _Empress of India_ next month. He hoped to God the _Ohio_ wouldn't
+be ordered to Sulu or some place impossible for her to follow him. That
+boy of Russell's--he liked that boy, he was all to the good; knew his
+place and kept his mouth shut. Follansbee wasn't going to butt in and
+spoil his fun. It would do him good to get a little drunk. He remembered
+when he got _his_ first gunboat--thirty years ago. Whew! Follansbee
+stared up at the veranda, then sighed again and started down the _bund_.
+
+Shanghai harbor was alive with light. The murmur of the city rose and
+fell on the soft, fragrant air, shockingly penetrated every now and then
+by the discordant shrieks of swiftly hurrying launches. The _bund_ was
+crowded with coolies, some toiling with heavy loads, others pulling
+their 'rikishas. Here and there flashed the colored lanterns of
+pedestrians. Beyond the junks lay many cruisers sweeping the starlit
+night with their quickly moving searchlights. Then one of these took him
+bang between the eyes and he stumbled and fell against some one coming
+up the walk.
+
+"Where the deuce--!" shouted a clear young voice angrily. Then the note
+changed. "I beg pardon, sir--these confounded lights--I didn't see you
+at all."
+
+Follansbee returned the midshipman's salute.
+
+"Don't mention it!" he growled. "But what are you doing ashore? I
+thought you had the deck."
+
+"I did, but I'm trying to find Russell. The Admiral wants him. I took
+the ship's launch to the _Dirigo_ and they said there he was ashore and
+hadn't left any word, only that he'd be back late. Have you seen him?"
+
+"Can't you _hear_ him?" inquired Follansbee laconically.
+
+A figure in white duck loomed suddenly into view on the veranda rail
+waving a bottle and shouting at the top of his lungs:
+
+    "I've got command of the _Dirigo_
+    An' I'm off for a cruise on the Hwang-ho!"
+
+followed by a tremendous chorus accompanied by cracking glass and
+unearthly yells.
+
+"Do I!" exclaimed the midshipman under his breath. "Is that him?"
+
+At that moment a searchlight illumined the figure in question and the
+midshipman answering his own question, "Yes, that's him," scrambled on
+up the steps.
+
+Follansbee wondered how long it would take to deliver the Admiral's
+order and felt his way gingerly through the crowded street.
+
+When the midshipman burst panting upon them they were standing on their
+chairs with their arms around one another's necks shouting the swinging
+chorus of
+
+    "The good old summer ti-i-me!
+    Oh, the good old summer ti-i-me!
+    For she's my tootsie-wootsie in
+    The good old summer ti-i-me!"
+
+"Come on up! There's plenty of room on my chair!" cried the boy
+excitedly, at sight of the midshipman, "we've only just begun." His
+face was very, very red and his eyes were very, very bright.
+
+    "Oh, the good old summer time!
+    Oh, the good old----"
+
+"Here, what's the matter with you? Let me alone! What?"
+
+He dropped his arms and climbed soberly enough down to the veranda floor
+while his comrades continued their refrain.
+
+"Orders! From the Admiral! Is he here? I didn't know that the _Ohio_ had
+come in. With you in a jiffy."
+
+"Don't wait," urged the midshipman, "it's important!"
+
+The boy turned white.
+
+"It isn't--bad news?" he asked apprehensively.
+
+"No, no," answered the other quickly, remembering the news the boy had
+had the year before. "Just orders."
+
+"Well, I won't spoil their fun," said the boy, echoing the sentiments
+earlier expressed by Follansbee. "Back in a minute, fellows: I've got to
+telephone! On with the dance, let joy be unrefined!"
+
+While they slipped through the door the chorus changed again, and as the
+boy seized his cap, sprang down the steps and started for the launch
+landing, high above and behind him, he could still hear them singing:
+
+    "Here's to the Kid and the _Dirigo_,
+    He's off for a cruise on the Hwang-ho!"
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+"You sent for me, sir?"
+
+Jack Russell stood in the doorway of the Admiral's cabin on the _Ohio_,
+cap in hand. The Admiral had been poring over some papers on his desk
+and for a moment did not dissect the voice from the whirring of the
+electric fan over his head, but as the boy took a step or two forward he
+turned and nodded.
+
+"Oh, it's you, Russell. I didn't mean to disturb you on shore, but I've
+something for you to do and the sooner you start the better."
+
+The boy awaited his words breathlessly--his first orders.
+
+"It's rather a mean job, but I've nobody else available and, if you make
+good--of course, you _will_ make good--in fact, it's rather a chance to
+distinguish yourself."
+
+"Thank you, sir."
+
+The Admiral paused as if surely to observe the effect of his words.
+
+"I want you to rescue a couple of missionaries."
+
+The boy's countenance remained immobile.
+
+"I received word this evening," continued the Admiral, picking up a
+half-smoked cigar, "that the rebellion has spread into Hu-peh and as far
+south as Kui-chan. They have murdered three American missionaries. Most
+of the others have escaped and have been reported safe, but nothing can
+be learned of two missionaries at Chang-Yuan--very estimable people,
+highly thought of in their denomination."
+
+"Yes, sir," said the boy, his eyes beaming on the Admiral.
+
+"You are to start at once--at once, understand, and go up the river past
+Hankow and Yochow. At Tung-an you reach the treaty limits, but you
+haven't time to explain, and probably explanations wouldn't do any good.
+There are two old forts there, and you'll just have to run by
+them--that's all. It is six hundred miles to Hankow. With luck you can
+be there easily inside of four days, but Chang-Yuan isn't on the
+Yang-tse-Kiang--it's on the Yuang-Kiang somewhere on Lake Tung-ting.
+You've got to find it first, and the charts are of no use. The trouble
+is that the lake dries up in winter and in summer overflows all the
+country round. If you can't get a local guide who knows the channel you
+will have to trust to luck. The fact that it's in the forbidden
+territory adds one more difficulty, but if I know Jack Russell's
+son----"
+
+"Oh, thank you, sir!" cried the boy. "What a chance!" he added half to
+himself.
+
+"Yes, it is a chance," answered the Admiral, "and I'm glad you've got
+it, but if you get aground among the rioting natives!--well, it's got to
+be done."
+
+"I have no interpreter, sir," said the boy.
+
+"Smith has secured one," replied the Admiral, "and through him we have
+found a Shan-si-man who says he knows the river above Hankow and is
+willing to act as guide. They are on the lower deck waiting. You will,
+of course, have the government pilot as far as Hankow. Now, good luck to
+you. I expect to be here for two weeks and you will report to me at
+once on your return your success or failure." He held out his hand.
+"Good luck to you again."
+
+The boy shook hands with the Admiral but still remained standing beside
+him.
+
+"Well?" said the Admiral. "Is there anything else?"
+
+"Yes," replied the boy apologetically, "you have not given me
+the--gentleman's name."
+
+"Bless my soul! So I haven't!" exclaimed the Admiral, fumbling among his
+papers, then raising one to the light: "The Rev. Theophilus Newbegin,"
+he read slowly, "and wife."
+
+The boy saluted his Admiral and retired with a respectful "Good night,
+sir." Once in the privacy of the wardroom companionway, however, he
+began to giggle, which giggle speedily expanded into a loud guffaw on
+his reaching the main deck. It sounded vaguely like "Newbegin." He
+leaned against the forward awning pole, shaking with laughter.
+
+"I say, what's the joke?" inquired the midshipman approaching him from
+the shadow of the main turret. "Let a fellow in, won't you?"
+
+But the boy still shook silently without replying.
+
+"Oh, go on! What's the joke?" repeated the other. "Did 'Whiskers' give
+you a 'Laughing Julip'?"
+
+"Newbegin!" exploded the boy. "Newbegin!"
+
+"New begin what?" persisted the midshipman irritably. "Have you gone
+dotty? I hope you didn't act that way in 'Whiskers'' cabin. I believe
+you're drunk!"
+
+The boy suddenly jerked himself together.
+
+"Look here, Smith, you shut up. I'm your rankin' officer and I won't
+have such language. I'll tell you the joke--when I know whether it is
+one or not."
+
+Smith made a face at him.
+
+"By the way, smarty," continued the boy, "have you got two Chinks for
+me? If you have, send 'em along. I'm off to the _Dirigo_ on the launch."
+
+"Yes, I got 'em at the English consul's. Say, what's up? Can't you tell
+a feller?"
+
+"Mr. Smith, send those two Chinks to the gangway!" thundered the boy.
+
+The midshipman turned and walked hastily around the turret.
+
+"Here you, Yen, come out of there!" he called.
+
+Two Chinamen arose from the deck where they had been sitting
+crosslegged, leaning against the turret, and shuffled slowly forward.
+
+"Here are your Chinks!" growled Smith, still aggrieved.
+
+The ensign paid no further attention to him but pushed the nearest
+Chinaman toward the gangway.
+
+"Get along, boys," he remarked, "your Uncle William is in a hurry." As
+the smaller of the two seemed averse to haste he gave him a slight
+forward impetus with his pipe-clayed boot. The two descended more
+rapidly and he followed. A sudden regret took possession of him as he
+thought of the possibility of his never seeing Smith again--of his dying
+of thirst, aground in a dried-up lake--or of being tortured to death in
+a cage in a Chinese prison.
+
+"Good-by, Smithy," he called over his shoulder. But there was no answer.
+
+The launch was bobbing at the foot of the steps, its screw churning the
+water into a boiling froth that reflected a million strange gleams
+against the warship's water line. The Chinamen hesitated.
+
+"Get along, boys," he repeated, stepping into the stern sheets. "We've
+got a long way to go and we might as well begin--Newbegin."
+
+The Chinamen huddled under the launch's canopy, the boy gave the word to
+go ahead, the bell rang sharply and the launch started on its long trip
+up to Shanghai.
+
+Slowly the _Ohio_ receded from him, somber, implacable, sphinxlike. On
+her bridge a man was wigwagging to the _Oregon_ with an electric signal.
+The searchlights from the war vessels arose and wavered like huge
+antennae feeling for something through the night, now and again paving a
+golden path from the launch to the ships. The illusion was that the
+vessels were moving away from the launch, not the launch from them. Out
+of the zone of the searchlights the water was black and lonesome. Just
+as soon as the ships got far enough away to appear stationary the launch
+seemed racing through the water at a hundred miles an hour. Other
+launches shrieked past bearing to their ships officers who had just come
+down by train to Woosung. Up the Whompoa River the ten-mile-distant
+lights of Shanghai cast a dim, nebulous glow against the midnight sky.
+Two hours later the little _Dirigo_ seemed to loom out of the darkness
+and come rapidly toward them as the launch ran up to her gangway.
+
+"Is that you, McGaw?" called the boy sharply. "Here are two Chinks, an
+interpreter and another one. Fix 'em up somewhere. We start up the
+Yang-tse as soon as you can get up steam. I want to make Nanking by day
+after to-morrow sunrise. Send ashore and get the pilot. Don't waste any
+time, either."
+
+"All right, sir," answered the midshipman, "we can start in half an
+hour, sir."
+
+The boy ran up the ladder, followed slowly by the Chinamen. At the cabin
+companionway he paused and looked at his watch. It was half after one
+o'clock.
+
+"Here you, boys," he shouted after the Chinamen, "come down into my
+cabin, I want to speak to you."
+
+He led the way down into his tiny wardroom and threw himself into a
+wicker chair placed at the focus of two electric fans. The thermometer
+registered ninety degrees Fahrenheit, but it was almost as hot on deck
+as below, and below various thirst alleviators were at hand. He poured
+out a whisky and soda and beckoned to the Chinamen to draw nearer. The
+first was short, fat, and jovial, with chronic humor creases about his
+mouth, and his hair done in a long orthodox cue which hung almost to the
+heels of his felt slippers. The other, the Shan-si man, was tall and
+square-shouldered, and he carried his chin high and his arms folded in
+front of him. His cue was curled flat on his head, and on his face was
+the expression of him who walks with the immortal gods.
+
+"What's your name?" asked the boy, waving the Manila cheroot he was
+lighting at the fat Chinaman. The little man grinned instantly, his face
+breaking into stereotyped wrinkles like an alligator-skin wallet.
+
+"Me--Yen. Charley Yen. Me belong good fella," he added with confidence.
+"Mucha laugh."
+
+"Who's the other chap?" inquired the boy. "He no mucha laugh, eh?"
+
+Yen shrugged his shoulders and, looking straight in front of him, held
+voluble discourse with his comrade.
+
+"He no say," he finally replied. "He velly ploud. He say his ancestors
+belong number one men before Uncle Sam maka live. He say it maka no
+diffence. You maka pay, he maka show. Name no matter."
+
+"Well, I'm sort of proud myself," remarked the boy, hiding a smile by
+sucking on his cheroot. "Tell this learned one that I know just how he
+feels. Tell him I'm going to call him 'Mr. Dooley' after the most
+learned man in America."
+
+Yen addressed a few remarks to the Shan-si man who murmured something in
+reply.
+
+"He tanka you."
+
+"I suppose you're a Christian?" asked the boy, suddenly recollecting the
+object of his expedition.
+
+"I belong Clistian, allasame you," answered Yen, assuming a quasi-devout
+expression. "Me believe foreign man joss allight."
+
+The boy regarded him thoughtfully.
+
+"Me b'lieve Chinee joss pigeon, too," added Yen cheerfully. "Me mucha
+b'lieve. B'lieve everyt'ing. Me good fun."
+
+"Yes," said the boy, "how about 'Dooley'?--is he a Christian?"
+
+Yen turned, but at his first liquid syllable the man from Shan-si drew
+himself up until it seemed that his shoulders would touch the cabin
+roof, and burst forth into a torrent of speech. Yen translated rapidly,
+scurrying along behind his sentences like a carriage dog beneath an
+axletree.
+
+No, he was no Christian. The sword of Hung-hsui-chuen had slain his
+ancestors. Twenty millions of people had perished by the sword of the
+Taipings. The murderous cry of "Sha Yao"[1] had laid the land desolate.
+He was faithful to the gods of his ancestors.
+
+[Footnote 1: "Slay the Idolaters."]
+
+"Tell 'Dooley' I lika him. Say I think he's a good sport," said the boy,
+nodding at the Shan-si man.
+
+"He say mucha tanks," translated Yen.
+
+"Ask him if he knows Lake Tung-ting."
+
+Mr. Dooley conveyed to the boy through Yen that he had been once to
+Chang-Yuan. The lake was wide in summer and he had been there at that
+time. He took pleasure in the service of the American Captain. But the
+Captain must be patient. He was a musk buyer, buying musk in western
+Szechuan on the Thibetan border. Two years ago he had saved five hundred
+taels and returned home to bury his family--nine persons counting his
+wife--all of whom had perished in the famine. The famine was very
+devastating. Then he married again one whom he had left at home. He
+allowed her ten taels a year. She could live on one pickle of wheat and
+she had the rest to spend as she liked. He preferred better the musk
+buying and returned. He gave the Captain much thanks.
+
+"That is very interesting," said the boy. "You may go."
+
+There was a tremendous rattling of chains along the sides, the steam
+winch began to click, and the two Chinamen vanished silently up the
+companionway. The boy leaned back in his wicker chair and gazed
+contemplatively about him at the shotgun and sporting rifle over the
+bookcase, the piles of paper-covered novels, the pointer dog coiled up
+on the transom, the lithographs fastened to the walls, and the
+photographs of his father and mother. He took another sip of whisky and
+water and, putting down the glass, thought of how proud his father would
+have been to see him in his first command. He had the happy
+consciousness of having done well, and he was going to make good--the
+Admiral had said so. He had had a bully time in the East so far, away
+ahead of what he had dreamed when at the Naval Academy. That winter at
+Newchwang, racing the little Manchurian ponies over the springy turf of
+the polo ground, shooting the big golden pheasants, wandering on leave
+through the country, stopping at the Chinese inns and taking chances
+among the Hanghousers. It had been great. Hong Kong had been great. It
+had been good fun to play tennis and drink tea with the
+pink-and-white-faced English girls. Well, he was off! His naval career
+had really begun. He lit another cheroot and strolled leisurely on deck
+to superintend the operation of heaving up the anchors.
+
+Slowly the _Dirigo_ floated away from the lights of Shanghai, felt her
+way cautiously down the Wompoa to Woosung and into the broad expanse of
+the Yang-tse. Anchored well out lay the _Ohio_ black against the coming
+dawn. A band of crimson clouds swept the lowlands to the east and
+between them the tide flowed in an oily purple flood.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+A heavy jar followed by a motionless silence awoke the boy at ten
+o'clock the next morning. The electric fans were still going and he had
+a thick taste in his mouth, but he had hardly time to notice these
+things before he dashed up the companionway and out upon the deck. To
+starboard the water extended to the horizon, to port a thin line of
+brown, a shade deeper in color than the water, marked the bank of the
+great river. Alongside helplessly floated a junk with a great gash in
+her starboard beam. She was loaded with crockery, and several bales of
+blue-and-white rice bowls had tumbled into the water, their contents
+bobbing about like a flock of clay pigeons. The boy saw instantly that
+owing to the fact that the junk was built in compartments she was in no
+danger of sinking, and could easily reach shore. Her captain, a
+half-naked man in a straw hat the size of a small umbrella, was
+chattering like a monkey at Charley Yen, and a Chinese woman, with a
+black-eyed baby of two years or thereabouts, sat idly in the stern
+evincing no particular interest in the accident. The man at the wheel
+explained that the junk had suddenly tacked. The boy felt in his pocket
+and, pulling out a Mexican dollar, tossed it to the junk man, who,
+having rubbed it on his sleeve and bitten it, began to chatter anew to
+Charley Yen.
+
+"What does he say?" asked the boy.
+
+"He say Captain belong number one man--he mucha tanks," answered Yen
+with a grin. What a waste! he added. The fellow had sailed on the feast
+day of Sai-Kao because on that day the Likin or native customs were
+closed. The gods had punished him. He had no complaint to make and had
+made none. As the _Dirigo_ shot ahead the junk man sprang into the water
+and began rescuing his rice bowls. They passed no other junk that day,
+and the leaden sky did not change its shade. Save for the driving of the
+screw they might have been anchored in the midst of a coffee-colored
+ocean. Not even a bird relieved the eager search of the eye for relief
+from the immeasurable brown. The heat continued intense, and was even
+more unbearable than when the sun's rays created a fictitious contrast
+of shadow. Early in the afternoon Yen called the boy's attention to a
+couple of dolphins which were following them, racing first with the
+_Dirigo_ and then with each other. Indeed, they were all three very much
+alike, and the majestic sweep and rush of the gray-white sides as they
+rose from the water inspired him with a sense of companionship. How far
+would they follow, these faithlessly faithful wanderers of the sea? At
+sunrise the next morning they picked up Nanking and the river gave more
+evidence of life, but they kept on and soon the city and its walls faded
+behind them. At noon they passed Wu-hu, at the same hour next day
+Kiukiang, and when the boy rose on the morning of the third day out, the
+black mass of crowded up-country junks on the water front of Hankow,
+swarming like mosquitoes or water flies about a stagnant pool, loomed
+into view. The river was full of sampans and fishing boats. The man from
+Shan-si, who had not spoken since the night in the cabin, raised his
+arm, and pointing to the pagoda repeated majestically to Yen the words
+of the ancient Chinese proverb:
+
+    "Above is Heaven's Hall,
+    Below are the cities of Su and Hang."
+
+During the day they passed Kia-yu and Su-ki-kan, and late in the
+afternoon swept into sight of Yo-chow. The Shan-si man announced that
+Tung-ting was not so very far away. He even volunteered that this was
+the greatest country under "Heaven's Hall" for the exportation of
+bristles, feathers, fungus, musk, nutgalls, opium, and safflower. The
+place presented a crowded, if not particularly ambitious, appearance.
+The shore was jammed, as usual, with thousands of junks, and above the
+town the muddy banks were lined with Hunan timber and bamboo rafts. From
+the bridge of the _Dirigo_ the boy caught from time to time swiftly
+shifting views of vast swampy plains, with a ragged line of scattered
+distant mountains. Then they passed beyond the bend in the river and
+suddenly entered what seemed another ocean, a northwest passage to
+Cathay. As far as the eye could reach stretched an illimitable void of
+waters, turbid, motionless. A rocky point, some ten feet higher than the
+surrounding plain, just gave a foothold for a small temple, a two-story
+Ting-tse or pavilion, and a lighthouse shaped like a square paper
+lantern. Ten minutes later it was a black spot in their boiling, brown
+wake. They were in Tung-ting, that desolate waste of mud, water, and
+sandhill islands, half swamp, half lake that rises into being by virtue
+of the expanding spring torrents, and sinks into its spongelike alluvial
+bed as mysteriously as it comes.
+
+"Whew!" whistled the boy, "I only hope 'Dooley' knows where he's at. I
+wish we'd taken on a _lao-ta_ at Hankow. This hole must be a hundred
+miles long and it's just about ten feet deep!"
+
+In fact, the quartermaster had already called the boy's attention to the
+long grasses that swung idly upon the top of the water, and to the fact
+that here and there patches of bottom could be seen.
+
+"Where is Chang-Yuan in all this mess?" he inquired of 'Dooley' who with
+Yen occupied a place beside him on the bridge.
+
+The Shan-si pointed to a conical-shaped island several miles distant
+which raised itself steeply out of the water, on which the boy could see
+through his glasses clung a Chinese village. Flocks of wild fowl
+speckled the middle distance with a single lone fisherman on the
+starboard bow.
+
+"He says," interrupted Yen, "Sim-wu have got on that island. This place
+belong very good for Chinaman--have got plenty of rice. Plenty water
+summer time. Winter time water all finish. He says he no think enough
+water for this boat. Little more far--about thirty li--have got 'nother
+island--after while catchee Chang-Yuan."
+
+"Ask him how fast his bloomin' lake is drying up," directed the boy.
+
+The Shan-si man shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"He says," announced Yen, "if fish belong thirsty they drink water
+plenty quick. Fish no thirsty plenty water. Sometime fish drink one foot
+water in four days."
+
+The sun, which up to this time had been visible only as a dim circle in
+the gray western sky, suddenly broke through with scorching intensity
+and at the same moment the _Dirigo_ slid gracefully upon a mudbank, half
+turned, and slid gracefully off again. The boy bit his lips and stared
+hopelessly at the yellow plain of water all about him. Then he shook his
+fist at the Shan-si man.
+
+"Tell him," he roared, "that if we get aground in his infernal lake,
+I'll hang him up by the thumbs and cut off his head."
+
+Yen conveyed the message.
+
+"Even so," replied the Shan-si, through the interpreter, "the will of
+the Captain is my will and my head is at the Captain's service, but even
+the gods cannot prevent the fish from drinking up the lake."
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+"Ugh! What a town!" exclaimed the boy as the _Dirigo_ dropped anchor
+Sunday morning a hundred yards off the embankment of Chang-Yuan. A
+broiling sun beat pitilessly upon the deck of the gunboat and upon the
+half mile of mud and ooze which lay along the water edge of the town.
+Even in summer Chang-Yuan was well above the water, the shore pitching
+steeply to the level of the lake. Down this incline was thrown all the
+waste and garbage of the town, and in the slime grubbed and rooted a
+horde of Chinese dogs and pigs and a score of human scavengers. Just
+above the _Dirigo_ hung a house of entertainment, from the rickety
+balcony of which a throng of curious citizens stared down inquisitively.
+To the left stood a guild house and a pagoda, and five noble flights of
+stone steps crowned with archways led from the water to the roadway, but
+these last were so covered with slime that climbing up and over the muck
+seemed preferable to risking a fall on their treacherous surfaces.
+
+"Ugh! What a hole!" repeated the boy. "Hah! Get away there you!" he
+shouted at the _sampans_ which swarmed around the _Dirigo_. "Here you,
+Yen, tell the beggars to keep off!"
+
+This Yen did, assuring the occupants of the boats that boiling oil would
+be distributed upon them if they did not retire.
+
+So this was Chang-Yuan! The boy sniffed the malodorous air and wrinkled
+his nose.
+
+    "What though the spicy breezes blow soft o'er Ceylon's Isle,
+    Where every prospect pleases and only man is vile!
+
+Gee! I wish the old boy that wrote that could have seen this place!
+Every prospect pleases! Only _man_ is vile! This town is a sort of human
+pigsty so far as I can see. And I'll bet there is a fat old _erfu_
+hiding in the middle of this rabbit warren who makes a good thing out of
+it, you bet!"
+
+The crowd on the embankment was growing momentarily larger, a silent,
+slit-eyed crowd of uncanny yellow faces. Beyond and under the distant
+line of blue hills thin columns of smoke marked the sites of the towns
+devastated by the inconsiderate Wu. A friend of Yen's had told the
+latter all about it. He had come aboard and had breakfasted, and for
+five hundred cash had been induced to admit that at the present juncture
+Chang-Yuan was a most unhealthy place for missionaries, that the
+inhabitants were quite ready to join Wu, and that when he arrived there
+would be the Chinese devil to pay. He offered for five hundred cash more
+to act as guide to the _erfu_'s house. On the whole, it seemed desirable
+to accept his proposition. Half an hour later a boat put off from the
+_Dirigo_ containing the boy, Yen, the friend, and four bluejackets. The
+crowd on the embankment almost pushed one another off the edge in their
+eagerness to watch the white devils climbing up the steps, and hardly
+allowed room for the boy and his squad to force a way through them.
+
+Chang-Yuan was a typical example of an inland Chinese town, with dirty,
+narrow streets, swarming with human vermin. A throng followed close at
+the Americans' heels as they marched to the _erfu_'s house, but quailed
+before the bodyguard who rushed out threateningly at them. It took half
+an hour before the _erfu_ could receive them and then they were ushered
+into a dim room where a flabby old man, with a sly, vacant face sat
+crosslegged before a curtain. Through Yen, the boy explained that he had
+called as an act of official courtesy, and that he had come to remove
+certain American missionaries from danger which he understood existed by
+virtue of the proximity of the rebel Wu. The _erfu_ listened without
+expression. Then he spoke into the air.
+
+He was much honored at the visit of the American naval officer. But what
+could a poor old man like himself do against the great Wu? He had no
+soldiers. The townsfolk were ready to join the rebels. It was only a
+question of time. He could do nothing. He regretted extremely his
+inability to furnish assistance to the Americans.
+
+The boy asked if it was true that the rioters were on their way and
+might reach the town that afternoon. The _erfu_ said it was so. Then,
+after warning him that the United States Government would hold him
+responsible for the lives of its citizens, the boy retired, convinced
+that the sooner he got his missionaries away the better it would be for
+them.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+The Rev. Theophilus Newbegin had just concluded divine service upon the
+veranda of the mission. Beyond the iron gateway a crowd of twenty or so
+onlookers still lingered, commenting upon the performance which they had
+witnessed, and jeering at the Chinese women who had just hurried away.
+Two of the women were carrying babies and all had had the cholera the
+season before. Because they had not died they attended service and were
+objects of hatred to their relatives. The Rev. Newbegin closed his Bible
+and wiped his broad, shining forehead with a red silk handkerchief. He
+was a large man who had once been fat and was now thin. Owing to the
+collapse of his too solid flesh his Chinese garments hung baggily upon
+his person and gave him an unduly emaciated appearance.
+
+Mrs. Newbegin was still stout. Ten years of mission life had not
+disturbed her vague placidity and she sat as contentedly upon the
+veranda in Chang-Yuan as she had sat in her garden summer-house in
+distant Bangor, Maine, whence she and her husband had come. The fire of
+missionary zeal had not diminished in either of them. The word had come
+to them one July morning from the lips of an eloquent local preacher,
+and full of inspiration they had responded to the call and departed "for
+the glory of the Lord."
+
+And China had swallowed them up. Twice a year, sometimes oftener, a
+boat brought bundles of newspapers and magazines, and a barrel or two
+containing all sorts of valueless odds and ends, antiquated books,
+games, and ill-assorted clothing. These barrels were the great annoyance
+of their lives. Often as he dug into their variegated contents the meek
+soul of the Rev. Theophilus rebelled at being made the repository of
+such junk.
+
+"One would think, Henrietta," sadly sighed Newbegin, "that the good
+people at home imagined that we spent our time playing parchesi and the
+Mansion of Happiness, and reading Sandford and Merton."
+
+Once came a suit of clothes entirely bereft of buttons, and most of the
+undergarments were adapted to persons about half the size of the
+missionary and his wife, but the Rev. Newbegin had a little private
+fortune of his own and it cost very little to live in Chang-Yuan.
+
+The crowd at the gate had been bigger than usual this Sunday, and during
+the service had hurled a considerable quantity of mud and sticks and a
+few dead animals which now remained in the foreground, but this was due
+entirely to the new hatred of the foreign devils engendered by the
+rioters, and many of those who to-day howled at the gate of the compound
+had been glad enough six months before to creep to the veranda and beg
+for medicine and food. Now all was changed. The victorious Wu was coming
+to drive these child eaters from the land. Already he had laid the
+country waste for miles to the north and west, and had slain three witch
+doctors and hung their bodies upon pointed stakes before the temple
+gates. He was marching even now with his army from Tung-Kuan--a distance
+of fifteen miles. Nominally loyal to the dynasty, the inhabitants of
+Chang-Yuan eagerly awaited his coming. The white devils pretended to
+heal the sick but in reality they poisoned them and caused the sickness
+themselves. Those who survived their potions had an evil spirit. The
+crowd at the gate licked its lips at what would take place when Wu
+should arrive. There would be a fine bonfire and a great killing of
+child eaters. Their hatred even extended to the daughter of the foreign
+devil--her whom once they had been wont to call "The Little White
+Saint," who had nursed their children through the cholera and brought
+them rice and rhubarb during the famine. Wu would come during the day
+and then--! The uproar at the gate grew louder. Newbegin laid his moist
+hand upon that of his wife and looked warningly at her as there came a
+rustle of silk inside the open door and their niece made her appearance.
+
+Margaret Wellington, now eighteen years old, had lived with them at
+Chang-Yuan for ten years. Her father, a naval officer, had died the year
+they had come out from America and they had picked up the little girl,
+the daughter of Newbegin's deceased only sister, at Hong Kong and
+brought her with them. Since then she had been as their daughter,
+working with them and entering enthusiastically into all their
+missionary labors. Sometimes they regretted not being able to give her a
+better education, and that she had no white companions but themselves,
+but the girl herself never seemed to miss these things and they believed
+that what was best for them was best for her. Were they not earning
+salvation? And was she not also? Was it not better for her to live in
+the Lord than to dwell in the tents of wickedness? Great as was their
+love for her it was nothing to their love for the Lord Jesus. For that
+they were ready and eager to lay down their lives--and hers.
+
+"Chi says the rioters are coming," said Margaret. Her hair was done in
+the Chinese fashion, and she was clad in Chinese dress from head to
+foot, for she had outgrown all her English clothes years ago and there
+were no others to take their place.
+
+"Yes, dear," answered her aunt, "I am afraid they are."
+
+"He says they will kill us," continued the girl. She articulated her
+English words in a way peculiar to herself, due to her strange
+up-bringing, but there was no fear in her brown eyes, and the paleness
+of her face was due only to the heat.
+
+The mob at the gate set up a renewed yelling at sight of her.
+
+"Dear, dear!" said her uncle irresolutely, "I don't believe it will be
+as bad as that. They will calm down by and by." He really felt very
+badly about Margaret. To be killed was all in the day's work so far as
+Henrietta and he were concerned. They had anticipated it sooner or later
+almost as a matter of course, but Margaret----
+
+A stick hurtled across the compound and fell on the veranda at his feet.
+He knew that it would take but little to excite the mob at the gate to
+frenzy, but he had made no preparations to defend the compound, for it
+would have been quite useless. In that swarming city what could one aged
+missionary and two women do to protect themselves? Chi, the only male
+convert, was hardly to be depended upon and all the rest were women. No,
+when the time came they would surrender their lives and accept
+martyrdom. It was for that that they had come to China. Newbegin's mind
+worked slowly, but he was a man of infinite courage.
+
+"Dear, dear!" he repeated, looking toward the gate.
+
+"Cowards!" cried the girl, her eyes flashing. "Ungrateful people! They
+will kill us, and Chi, and Om, and Su, and the other women and their
+babies. We must do something to protect them."
+
+"Dear me! Dear me!" stammered her uncle again, rubbing his eyes. The
+crowd at the gate had fallen back and a strange vision had taken its
+place. Involuntarily he removed his hat. The girl uttered a cry of
+astonishment as the gate swung open and a young man in a white duck
+uniform entered the compound followed by four erect figures also in
+white and carrying rifles on their shoulders.
+
+"Bless me!" exclaimed Newbegin, "it looks like a naval officer!"
+
+The boy came straight to the veranda and touched his cap.
+
+"Are you the Rev. Theophilus Newbegin?" he inquired.
+
+"I am," answered the missionary, holding out his hand.
+
+"I am John Russell, ensign in command of the U. S. gunboat _Dirigo_. I
+have been sent by Admiral Wheeler to assist you to leave Chang-Yuan."
+
+"Bless me!" exclaimed the Rev. Theophilus. "Very kind of him, I'm sure!
+And you, too, of course, and you, too! Henrietta, let me introduce you
+to Ensign Russell. Er--won't those--er--gentlemen come inside and sit
+down?" he added, staring vaguely at the squad of bluejackets.
+
+"Oh, they're all right!" said the boy, shaking hands with Mrs. Newbegin,
+and wondering what sort of a queer old guy this was whom he had been
+sent to rescue. "Beastly hot, isn't it? Do you have it like this
+often?"
+
+"Eight months in the year," said Mrs. Newbegin, "but we're used to it."
+
+At this moment the boy became conscious of the presence of one whom he
+at first took to be the prettiest Chinese girl he had ever seen.
+
+"Let me present my niece--Ensign Russell," said Newbegin.
+
+The boy held out his hand but the girl only smiled.
+
+"It is very good of you to come so far to help us," said the girl.
+
+"Oh, no trouble at all!" exclaimed the boy without taking his eyes from
+her face. "I'm glad I got here in time," he added.
+
+"Did you come on a ship?" asked the girl.
+
+"Just a little gunboat," he answered, "but that makes me think. This
+plagued lake is sinking all the time. I got aground in half a dozen
+places. We've got to start right along back. I'm by no means sure we can
+get out as it is, but it's better than staying here. You'd oblige me by
+packing up as quickly as possible."
+
+"Eh?" said the Rev. Theophilus, with something of a start, "what's
+that?"
+
+"Why, that we've got to start right along or we'll be stuck here and
+won't be able to get away at all."
+
+"But I can't abandon the mission!" said Newbegin in wonder.
+
+"Certainly not!" echoed his wife placidly. "After all these years we
+cannot desert our post!"
+
+"But the rioters!" ejaculated the boy. "You'll be murdered! Wu will be
+here before night, they tell me, and there was a precious crowd of
+ruffians at the gate as I came along. Why, you can't stay to be
+killed!"
+
+Newbegin shook his head.
+
+"You do not understand," he said slowly. "We came out here to rescue
+these people from idolatry. Some of them have adopted Christianity.
+There are forty women and children converts. There are others who are
+almost persuaded; if we abandon them now we shall undo all our labor.
+No! we must stay with them, and die with them, if necessary, but we
+cannot go away now."
+
+"Great Scott!" cried the boy, "do you mean to say that----"
+
+"We cannot desert our post," repeated Mrs. Newbegin, looking fondly at
+her husband.
+
+"But--but--" began the boy.
+
+"Even if we die, there is the example," said Newbegin.
+
+The boy was puzzled. Of missionaries he had a poor enough opinion in
+general, and this one looked like a great oaf and so did his fat wife,
+but in the most ordinary way and with the commonest of accents he was
+talking of "dying for the example." Then his eyes returned to the girl
+who had been watching him intently all the time.
+
+"But," he exclaimed, "certainly you won't place your niece in such
+danger?"
+
+"No," said Newbegin, "that would not be right."
+
+"No," repeated the wife, "she had better go back."
+
+"I will not go back," cried the girl, "unless you go, too! This is my
+home. Your work is my work. I cannot leave Om and Su and their babies."
+
+"Good God!" muttered the boy hopelessly. "Don't you see you _must_ come?
+You _can't_ stay here to be murdered by the rioters! I can't _let_ you!
+On the other hand, I can only stay here an hour or two at the most. The
+_Dirigo_ is almost aground as it is and we shall have the dev--deuce of
+a time getting out of the lake."
+
+"Well," said Newbegin calmly, "I have told you that we cannot accept
+your offer. We are very grateful, of course, but it's impossible. It
+would not do; no, it would not do. A missionary expects this kind of a
+thing. I wish Margaret would go, but what can I do, if she won't go? I
+can't make her go."
+
+"I want to stay with you," said Margaret, taking his hand. "I will never
+leave you and Aunt Henrietta."
+
+The boy swore roundly to himself. The crowd of Chinese had returned to
+the gate, and the air of the compound stank in his nostrils. He took out
+his watch.
+
+"It's eleven o'clock," he said firmly. "At five I shall leave
+Chang-Yuan; till then you have to make up your minds. I will return in
+an hour or so."
+
+Newbegin shook his head.
+
+"Our answer will be the same. We are very grateful. I am sorry not to
+seem more hospitable. Have you seen the temple and the pagoda?"
+
+"No," answered the boy. "I suppose I might as well do the town, now I'm
+here."
+
+"I will show you the temple," said Margaret timidly. "They know me
+there, I nursed the child of the old priest. I will take you."
+
+"Yes," said Newbegin, "they all like Margaret, and I seem to be
+unpopular now. Will you not take dinner with us?"
+
+"Thank you," said the boy, "take dinner with _me_. Perhaps Mrs. Newbegin
+would like to see the gunboat, and I have some photographs of the new
+cruisers."
+
+Margaret gazed beseechingly at her.
+
+"Very well," said Newbegin, "if you will stop for us on your way back
+from the temple we shall be quite ready, but I must return at once after
+dinner in order to assemble the members of the mission."
+
+The girl led the way to the gate.
+
+"I'm sure you will not need the soldiers," she said; "it is but a short
+distance." The crowd, observing that the bluejackets had remained inside
+the compound, crowded close at the boy's heels as they threaded the
+streets to the temple.
+
+"I spend a good deal of time here," said the girl; "sometimes it is the
+only cool place."
+
+The boy paid the small charge for admission and followed his guide up
+the dim, winding stairs. It was dank and quiet; the priest had remained
+at the gate. From the blue-green shadows of the recesses upon the
+landings a score of Buddhas stared at them with sightless eyes. Suddenly
+they emerged into the clear air upon the platform of the top story and
+the girl spoke for the first time since they had entered.
+
+"There is Chang-Yuan," she said.
+
+The boy gazed down curiously. Below them blazed thousands of highly
+finished roofs, picturesque enough from this height, while beyond the
+town the soup-colored waters of the lake stretched limitless to the
+horizon. He could see the embankment and the little _Dirigo_ at anchor,
+the _sampans_ still swarming around it. To the south lay a country of
+swamps and of paddy fields; to the north the line of hills and the smoke
+of the burning towns.
+
+They sat down on a stone bench and gazed together at the uninviting
+prospect. He was beset with curiosity to ask her a thousand questions
+about herself, yet he did not know how to begin. She solved the problem
+for him, however.
+
+"I have lived here since I was eight years old," she remarked,
+apparently being unable to think of anything else to say.
+
+The boy whistled between his teeth.
+
+"Do you enjoy it?" he asked.
+
+"I don't know," she replied, "I don't know anything else. Sometimes it
+seems dull and one has to work very hard, but I think I like it."
+
+"But what do you do," he inquired, "to amuse yourself?"
+
+"I read," she said, "and play with Om and Su. I have taught them some
+American games. Do you know parchesi and the Mansion of Happiness?"
+
+"Yes, I've played them," he admitted cautiously. "But do you never see
+any white people except your uncle and aunt?"
+
+"Why, no," she said. "Two summers ago, after the cholera, we visited Dr.
+Ferguson at Chang-Wing--that is over there. He is a medical missionary,
+but I did not like him because he asked me to marry him. He was sixty
+years old. Do you think it was right?"
+
+"Right!" cried the boy. "It was a wicked sin."
+
+"Well, he is the only white man I have met except you," said the girl.
+"Of course, I can remember a little playing with boys and girls a long,
+long time ago. Where is your ship?"
+
+"That little white one down there. Can you see?" said the boy, pointing.
+
+"Oh, is that it?" she asked. "Where are its sails?"
+
+"There aren't any," he answered; "it goes by steam."
+
+"I have read the 'Voyage of the Sunbeam,'" she said, "it is a beautiful
+book. It came out last year in a box. I have nearly twenty books in
+all."
+
+The boy bit his lips. He was getting angry--angry that an American girl
+should have been imprisoned in such a hole all her young life--such a
+girl, too! What right had an elderly man and woman, even though they
+enjoyed the privilege of consanguinity, to exile a beautiful child from
+her native country and bring her up for the glory of God in a stewing,
+stinking, cholera-infested, famine-ridden Chinese village?
+
+"It is strange to find you here," he said finally. "I expected only some
+freckle-faced, jimmy-jawed, psalm-singing woman, who would tumble all
+over herself to get away."
+
+She looked at him puzzled for a moment and then burst into a ripple of
+laughter.
+
+"What funny things you say!" she cried. "I suppose it is strange to find
+me here, but why should I have freckles or a--what did you call it--a
+jimmy-jaw? I do sing psalms. But my being here is no stranger than that
+you should be here. I have often wished some young man would come. You
+are the first I have known. I am tired of only women."
+
+For a moment he was almost shocked at the open implication, but her
+frank eyes and matter-of-fact tone told him that the girl could not
+flirt. It was out of her sphere of existence.
+
+"Would you like to get married?" he hazarded.
+
+"Oh, yes!" she cried. "To a young man!"
+
+"But suppose you had to go away?"
+
+She looked a little puzzled for a moment.
+
+"Of course, I should not like to leave Om and Su, and I wouldn't leave
+uncle and aunt, but sometimes--sometimes I have wondered if one couldn't
+serve God in a pleasanter place and do just as much good."
+
+"Are there any men converts?" he asked.
+
+"Only Chi," she replied, "and I am quite sure he is an idolater at
+heart. Besides," she added, with a droll look in her eyes, "Chi is a
+gambler and is always drinking _samshu_. He had been drinking it this
+morning. I have often spoken to uncle about it, but he has not got the
+heart to send him away."
+
+The boy laughed.
+
+"I have a certain amount of sympathy with Chi," said he. "If I lived
+here I should be as bad as he is. I should think you would die of the
+heat and the smells, and never seeing anybody."
+
+"Oh, it's not so bad," she said spiritlessly. "You see, I have to work
+pretty hard. There are nearly twenty families now where there is
+sickness, and in case of anything contagious I go there and nurse.
+Sometimes I get very tired, but it keeps me occupied and so I suppose I
+don't think about--other things."
+
+"It's terrible to think of leaving you here," he said. "Can't you
+persuade your uncle and aunt that their duty does not require them to
+lay down their lives needlessly?"
+
+"No," she answered, "nothing would persuade them that it was not their
+duty to remain; nothing could persuade _me_ of that."
+
+"And you would not leave them?" he urged, almost tenderly.
+
+"Oh, how _could_ I? I must stay with them! Don't you see?" She took hold
+of his hand and held it. It was quite natural and totally unconscious.
+"That is what missionaries are for."
+
+A thrill traveled up the nerves of his arm and accelerated the motion of
+his heart.
+
+"That is not what _you_ are for," he said quietly.
+
+"I must! I must!" she repeated. "Oh, I should like to go with you, but I
+can't."
+
+"But think of yourself!" he cried harshly. "Your uncle and aunt can die
+for the glory of God if they choose, but they've no right to let you
+die, too, just out of loyalty to them. It's cruel and wrong. It makes me
+sick to think of you penned up here in this nasty, yellow place all
+these years when you ought to have been going to school, and riding and
+sailing, and playing tennis, and having a good time."
+
+"Oh!" she protested.
+
+"No, hear me out," he insisted, "and having a good time! You can serve
+God and yet be happy, can't you? And your place isn't here in the midst
+of cholera and famine and malaria. It's different with people who have
+lived their lives, but with you, so young and fresh and pretty."
+
+"Oh!" she cried joyfully, "do you think I am pretty? I'm so glad!"
+
+"Do I!" he replied hotly. "Too pretty to be allowed to go wandering
+around these crooked Chinese streets--" he checked himself. "I say it's
+a shame! And now to stay here, after all, to be butchered!" He jumped to
+his feet and ground his teeth.
+
+She gazed at him, startled, and said reproachfully:
+
+"I don't think it is right for you to say things like that. 'Whoso
+loseth his life for my sake shall find it.' Don't you remember?"
+
+He made no reply, realizing the hopelessness of his position.
+
+"Come," he said, "let us go back."
+
+She was afraid she had offended him but was too timid to do more than to
+take his hand and let him lead her gently down the winding stairs.
+
+At the gate of the temple they found the crowd augmented by several
+hundred persons, who closed in behind and marched along to the compound.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Newbegin were waiting on the veranda and the marines had
+been having a little _samshu_. The boy was by no means sorry to have the
+company of his escort for the rest of their walk, and the party made
+good time to the _Dirigo_. The _bund_ was alive with spectators and so
+was the whole long line of shore. There were Chinese everywhere, on the
+beach, on rafts, in _sampans_, swimming in the water, all around,
+wherever you looked there were a dozen yellow faces--waiting--waiting
+for something. Even in the broil of that inland sun the chills crept up
+the boy's spine.
+
+The Rev. Theophilus and his wife were much pleased with the gunboat and
+sat in the cabin in the draught of the two electric fans sipping
+lemonade, while the boy showed the girl over the _Dirigo_. He had made
+one last passionate appeal to the missionary and his wife, who had again
+flatly refused to leave the city. Margaret had likewise reasserted her
+determination not to desert them. The boy was in despair and cursed them
+to himself for stupid, bigoted fools. He was showing the girl his little
+stateroom with its tiny bookcase and pictures and she had paused
+fascinated before one which showed a group of young people gathered on a
+smooth lawn with tennis rackets in their hands. All were smiling or
+laughing. Margaret could not tear herself away from it.
+
+"How happy they look!" she whispered. "How fresh and clean and cool
+everything is! What are those things in their hands?"
+
+"What do you mean?" he asked.
+
+"The round things that look like nets," she explained.
+
+The boy gasped.
+
+"Tennis rackets! Do you mean to say you've never seen a tennis racket?"
+
+"I don't think so." She hesitated. "Perhaps ever so long ago when I was
+a little girl, but I've forgotten."
+
+The boy's anger flamed to a white heat as he glanced out through the
+stateroom door to where the Rev. Theophilus and wife sat stolidly
+luxuriating in the artificial draught.
+
+"When I was a child we lived for a while in Shanghai. My father's ship
+was there," she added.
+
+"Your father in the navy?" cried the boy hoarsely. "What was his name?"
+
+"Wellington," she answered. "He was a commander. He died at Hong Kong
+ten years ago."
+
+"Wellington! Richard Wellington? He was in my father's class at
+Annapolis!" cried the boy. Then he groaned and bit his lips. "Oh!--oh!
+it's a crime!"
+
+He dropped on one knee and took her hands.
+
+"Poor little girl!" he almost sobbed, "poor little girl! Think of it!
+Ten years! Poor child!"
+
+Margaret laid one hand on his head.
+
+"I am quite happy," she said calmly.
+
+"Happy!" He gave a half-hysterical laugh and shook his fist at the door.
+Then he leaned over and whispered eagerly:
+
+"You're tired, dear. Lie down for a few minutes and rest. Do--to please
+me."
+
+She smiled. "To please you," she repeated, as she leaned back among the
+cushions which he placed for her, and he closed the door.
+
+"Your niece is going to take a little nap," he explained to the
+missionary. "Here are some prints of the new battleships. I must ask you
+to excuse me for a moment. Saki will serve dinner directly."
+
+"Oh, certainly--of course," murmured Newbegin, recovering from
+semi-consciousness.
+
+The boy sprang up the hatch.
+
+"Here, McGaw!" he ejaculated, rushing to where his midshipman stood
+watching the swarm of _sampans_ that covered the lake around the
+_Dirigo_. "Get up steam! Do you hear? Get up steam as fast as you can!
+I'm going to hike out of this!"
+
+"All right, sir," replied McGaw in a rather surprised tone. "We can't
+get off any too soon to please me. Did you ever see such a hole? Hello!
+What's all that?" He pointed to a highly decorated _sampan_ coming
+rapidly toward them, before which the others parted of their own accord,
+making a broad line of water to the _Dirigo_.
+
+"By Godfrey! It's the mandarin!" cried the boy. "Where's Yen? Here you,
+Yen! Go make mucha laugh for the _erfu_!"
+
+The _sampan_, however, turned out not to contain the _erfu_. A small,
+fat Chinaman in the mandarin's livery stood up and bawled to Yen through
+his hands.
+
+"He say," translated Yen over his shoulder, "Wu no come. Viceroy soldier
+man make big fight--kill plenty--Wu finish. Allight now everybody.
+Missionary come back. Wu no make smoke, anyway. He long, long way off.
+This fella lika Melican naval officer maka lil _kumsha_[2] for good
+news. _Kumsha_ for maka mucha laugh."
+
+[Footnote 2: Present, gratuity.]
+
+"What!" roared the boy. "Pay him! Tell him to go to hell!"
+
+McGaw watched the boy as he stamped up and down the deck running his
+hands through his hair and wondered if he had a touch of sun. The
+mandarin's messenger still remained in an attitude of expectancy in the
+bow of the _sampan_. Suddenly the midshipman saw his superior officer
+rush to the side of the _Dirigo_ and throw a Mexican silver dollar at
+the Chinaman, who caught it with surprising dexterity.
+
+"Tell him," shouted the boy to Yen, "to say to the _erfu_ that he could
+not find us, that we had gone away before he could deliver his message!"
+
+The fat Chinaman prostrated himself in the _sampan_.
+
+"He say allight," remarked Yen.
+
+"Do you believe what he said?" demanded the boy threateningly of McGaw.
+
+"Sure," said the midshipman, "that's right enough! That old friend of
+Yen's was out here again about an hour ago, snooping around, drunk as a
+lord. He'd been loading up on _samshu_ ever since he went ashore. He
+says that Wu was killed over a month ago, that his head is on a temple
+gate five hundred miles north of here, and that the smoke over there is
+caused by burning brush on the hillsides. The rebellion is all over
+until next year. It's a great note for us, isn't it?"
+
+But the boy made no reply. He was staring straight through McGaw out
+across the lake. Suddenly he stepped close to the midshipman and
+muttered quietly:
+
+"Say, old man, for the sake of old times, can you forget all that?"
+
+"Sure," gasped McGaw, convinced that his previous suspicions had been
+correct.
+
+"Then forget it and get up steam!" said the boy, turning sharply on his
+heel.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+The click of the anchor engine was followed by the throbbing of the
+_Dirigo_'s screw, but both the Rev. Theophilus and wife supposed them to
+be the whirr of an unseen electric fan. Saki's dinner was exceptionally
+good, and there was a cold bottle of vichy for the missionary, who
+lingered a long time after the coffee to tell about the ravages of the
+cholera the year before. When at last they ascended to the deck there
+was nothing to be seen of Chang-Yuan but a glare of tile roofs on the
+distant horizon.
+
+"Bless me!" remarked the Rev. Theophilus, gazing stupidly at the
+coffee-colored waves about them. "What is the meaning of all this? Where
+are we going? I must go ashore. I have no time for pleasure sailing!"
+
+"Certainly not!" echoed his wife. "Kindly return at once! Why, we are
+miles from Chang-Yuan!"
+
+And then it was, according to McGaw, that the boy more than rose to the
+occasion and verified the prophecy of the Admiral, though under a
+somewhat different interpretation, that he would "make good," for,
+standing by Margaret's side, he saluted the missionary and with eyes
+straight to the front delivered himself of the following preposterous
+statement:
+
+"I exceedingly regret that my orders do not permit me to exercise the
+discretion necessary to return as you request. The Admiral commanding
+the Asiatic squadron specifically directed me to proceed at once to
+this place and rescue the Rev. Theophilus Newbegin and wife. I was given
+no option in the matter. I was to _rescue_ you, that is all. I received
+no instructions as to what to do in the event that you preferred not to
+be rescued, and I interpret my orders to mean that I am to rescue you
+whether you like it or not. Everything will be done for your entire
+comfort and Saki has already prepared my stateroom for Mrs. Newbegin. I
+trust that you will not blame me for obeying my orders."
+
+"Bless me!" stammered the Rev. Theophilus. "Dear me! I really do not
+know what to say! I am exceedingly disturbed. It seems to me like an
+unwarrantable interference--not on your part, of course, but on that of
+the Government. But," he added apologetically, "we cannot blame you for
+obeying your orders, can we, Henrietta?"
+
+But Mrs. Newbegin's ordinarily vacuous face bore a new and radiant
+expression.
+
+"I see the hand of Providence in this, Theophilus!" she said.
+
+"Yes--yes!" he answered, wiping his forehead. "God moves in a mysterious
+way--in an astonishing way, I might say." He looked regretfully over his
+shoulder toward the fast-vanishing Chang-Yuan.
+
+Margaret slipped her hand into his and laid her head on his arm. "I am
+so glad, uncle!" she whispered. He patted her cheek.
+
+"Yes, yes, it is probably better this way," he sighed. "Henrietta, let
+us retire to the cabin and consider what has happened. My young friend,
+be assured we bear you no ill will for your involuntary action in this
+matter."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Four evenings later under the snapping stars of the midsummer heaven
+Margaret Wellington and Jack Russell sat side by side in two camp chairs
+on the bridge of the _Dirigo_. The gunboat was sweeping round the great
+curve of the Yang-tse above Hankow and to starboard the pagodas of
+Wu-chang rose dimly through the lights of the city. Below in the hot
+cabin sat the Rev. Theophilus and his wife reading "The Spirit of
+Missions."
+
+"And now," said the boy, as he drew her hand through his, "you are going
+to be happy forever and always. The world is full of wonderful things
+and nice, kind people who are trying to do good and yet have a jolly
+time while they are doing it. And you will have the dearest mother a
+girl ever had. How proud she'll be of you! Now promise to forgive me;
+you know why I did it! Do you suppose I'd have dared to do it if I
+hadn't?"
+
+"Yes," she answered happily, "I knew why you did it and I forgive you,
+only, of course, it really was very wicked. But----"
+
+The sentence was never finished--to the delight of the government pilot
+behind them.
+
+"What do you think my uncle will say when we tell him?" she laughed.
+
+"He'll say, 'Bless me! Dear me! I don't know!'" answered the boy, and
+they both giggled hysterically.
+
+Abaft the black shadow of the smokestack Yen and the Shan-si man stood
+in silence watching the two on the bridge. The Shan-si man raised his
+arm once more in the direction of Wu-chang and made a joke.
+
+"Above is Heaven's Hall!" said he. "Below are--the two most foolish
+things in all the world--a boy and a girl!"
+
+
+
+
+THE VAGABOND
+
+
+      "There is no essential incongruity between crime and
+      culture."
+                    --_Oscar Wilde, "The Decay of Lying."_
+
+It was five o'clock, Sunday afternoon, and the slanting sunbeams had
+crawled across the bed and up the walls and vanished somehow into the
+ceiling when Voltaire McCartney came to himself, kicked off the
+patchwork quilt, elevated his torso upon one elbow and took an
+observation out of the dingy window. The prospect of the Palisades to
+the northwest was undimmed, for the wind was blowing fresh from the sea
+and the smoke from the glucose factory on the Jersey side was making
+straight up the river in a long, black horizontal bar, behind which the
+horizon glowed in a brilliant, translucent mass of cloud. McCartney
+swung his thin legs clear of the bed and fumbled with his left hand in
+the pocket of a plaid waistcoat dangling from the iron post. The act was
+unconscious, equivalent to the automatic groping for one's slippers
+which perchance the reader's own well-regulated feet perform on similar
+occasions. The pocket in question yielded a square of white tissue,
+which the fingers deftly folded, transferred to the other hand, and then
+filled with tobacco. Like others nourished upon stimulants and
+narcotics, McCartney awoke _absolutely_, without a trace of drowsiness,
+nervously ready to do the next thing, whatever that might chance to be.
+His first act was to pull on his shoes, the second to slip his
+suspenders over his rather narrow shoulders, and the third to light the
+cigarette. Then he sauntered across the room to the window sill, upon
+which slept profoundly a small tortoise-shell cat, and picked up a
+pocket volume, well worn, which he shook open at a point designated by a
+safety match. For several moments he devoured the page with his eyes,
+his hollow face filled with peculiar exaltation. Then he expelled a
+cloud of smoke sucked from the glowing end of his cigarette, tossed away
+the butt, and thrust the book into his hip pocket.
+
+    "O would there were a heaven to hear!
+    O would there were a hell to fear!
+    Ah, welcome fire, eternal fire,
+    To burn forever and not tire!
+
+    "Better Ixion's whirling wheel,
+    And still at any cost to feel!
+    Dear Son of God, in mercy give
+    My soul to flames, but--let me _live_!"
+
+He turned away from the window, and pale against the gaudy west his
+profile shone drawn and haggard. Restlessly he filched his pocket for
+another cigarette, and tossed himself wearily into a painted rocker. The
+cat awakened, elongated herself in a prodigious and voluptuous yawn of
+her whole body, dropped to the floor and leaped with a single spring
+into her master's lap. He stroked her sadly.
+
+"Isabeau! My poor Isabeau! I envy you--creature perfect in symmetry,
+perfect in feeling!"
+
+The cat rubbed her head against the buttons of his coat. McCartney
+leaned back his head. The little room was bare of ornament or of
+furniture other than the chair, save for a deal table at the foot of the
+bed, bearing a litter of newspapers and yellow pad paper.
+
+    "I am discouraged by the street,
+    The pacing of monotonous feet!"
+
+murmured the man in the rocker. The light died out above the Palisades;
+the cat snuggled down between her master's legs.
+
+    "Dear Son of God, in mercy give
+    My soul to flames, but let me _live_!"
+
+he added softly. Then he lifted the cat gently to the floor, threw on a
+short, faded reefer coat, and opened the door.
+
+"Well, Isabeau, it's time for us to go out and earn our supper!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+McCartney gazed solemnly down from the small rostrum upon which he was
+standing at the end of the saloon without so much as a smile in answer
+to the roar of appreciation with which his time-worn anecdote had been
+received.
+
+"Dot's goot!" shouted an abdominal "Dutchman," pounding the table with
+his beer mug. "Gif us 'n odder!"
+
+"Ya!" exclaimed his _confrere_. "Dot feller, he was a corker, eh?" He
+put up his hands and making a trumpet of them bawled at McCartney:
+"Here, kommen sie unt haf a glass bier mit us!"
+
+Three teamsters, a card sharp, a porter, two cabbies, and a dozen
+unclassables nodded their heads and stamped, while the bartender passed
+up a foaming stein to the performer. McCartney blew off the froth, bowed
+with easy grace to the assembled company, and drank. Then he descended
+to the table occupied by the Germans.
+
+"May you all have better luck than the gentleman in my story," he
+remarked. "But I for one shall go straight to the other place. Heaven
+for climate--hell for society, eh? Hoch der Kaiser!"
+
+The Germans threw back their heads and laughed boisterously.
+
+"Make that beer a sandwich, will you? Here, Bill, bring me a slice of
+cold beef and a cheese sandwich!"
+
+The bartender opened a small ice chest and produced the desired edibles,
+to which variation in their offered hospitality the two interposed no
+objection, being in fact somewhat in awe of their intellectual, if not
+distinguished, guest. As McCartney ate he produced a handful of
+transparent dice.
+
+"Ever see any dice like those?" he asked, rolling them across the wet
+table. The first German examined them with approval.
+
+"Dose is pooty, eh?" he remarked to his neighbor. "I trow you for die
+Schnapps, eh?"
+
+McCartney watched them covetously as they emptied the leathern shaker,
+solemnly counting the spots at the conclusion of each cast.
+
+"Here, let me show you how," volunteered their guest. "Poker hands." He
+rattled the dice and poured them forth. They came up indiscriminately.
+
+"Not so goot, eh?" commented the German. "I'll trow you. I'll trow
+ennyboty mit _clear_ dice. Venn dey ain't loated I can trow mit
+ennyboty." He held them up to the light. "Dese is clear--goot."
+
+"Three times for a dollar," said McCartney.
+
+"So," answered the German. He threw carefully, and counted two sixes, an
+ace, a three, and a five. He left in the sixes and threw the others.
+This time he got an ace and two fives. Once more he put them back, but
+accomplished no better result.
+
+"Now, I'll show you," said McCartney, and emptied the shaker. The dice
+tumbled upon the table to the tune of two aces, two deuces, and a five.
+He put back the deuces and the five and threw another ace, a three, and
+a five.
+
+"I win," he remarked. "You don't know how!"
+
+"Vat's dot? Don't know how, eh!" roared the other. "I trow you for fife
+dollars, see? Gif me dose leetle dice." He threw with a heavy bang that
+shook the table. This time he got two sixes, two aces, and a five, and
+put back the latter. Securing another ace he leaned back and took a
+heavy draught of beer. "Full house! Beat dat eef you can!"
+
+McCartney tossed the dice carelessly upon the board for two fours, one
+ace, and two fives. To the amazement of the Germans, he left in the ace
+and returned the other four to the shaker. This time he got two more
+aces. His last throw gave him another ace and a five.
+
+"Zum teuffel!" growled the German, thrusting his hand into his pocket
+and drawing forth a dirty wad of bills. "Here, take your money!" He
+handed McCartney six dollars.
+
+"Kind sirs, good night," remarked McCartney, thrusting the bills into
+his waistcoat pocket and arising from his place. "I must betake me
+hence. Experience is the only teacher. Let me advise you never to play
+games of chance with strangers."
+
+The two Germans stared at him stupidly.
+
+"You don't understand? Permit me. You saw the dice were not loaded? Very
+good! You examined them? Very good again. Your powers of observation are
+uncultivated, merely. The stern mother of invention--that is to say
+necessity--has obeyed the law of evolution. Three of the dice in my
+pocket bear no even numbers. The information is well worth your six
+dollars. Again, good night."
+
+"Betrueger!" cried the loser of the six dollars, arising heavily and
+upsetting his beer. "Dot feller skivinded us mit dice geloaded! _Sheet!
+Sheet!_"
+
+They blundered toward the side entrance, while McCartney side-stepped
+into an adjacent portal. Long Acre Square gleamed from end to end. Above
+him an electric display, momentarily vanishing and reappearing, heralded
+the attributes of the cigar sacred to the Scottish bard. Peering through
+the haze generated by the countless lights a few tiny stars repaid
+diligent search. A scanty number of pedestrians was abroad. The pantheon
+of delights shone silent save for an occasional clanging car. The
+Germans passed in search of an officer, excitedly jabbering about the
+"sheet," their angry expressions reverberating along the concrete,
+fading gradually into the hum of the lower town.
+
+Then slowly into view crept one of those anachronisms of the
+metropolis--a huge, shaggy horse slowly stalking northward, dragging a
+rickety express wagon whereon reposed a semisomnolent yokel. Hitched by
+its shafts to the tail of the wagon trailed a decrepit brougham
+(destined, probably, for country-depot service), behind this a
+debilitated Stanhope buggy, followed by a dogcart, a phaeton, a
+buckboard, with last of all a hoodless Victoria. This picturesquely
+mournful procession of vanished respectability staggered hesitatingly
+past our hero, who regarded it with vast amusement. To his fanciful
+imagination it appeared like the fleshless vertebrae of a sea serpent
+slowly writhing into the obscurity of the night. Occasionally one of the
+component dorsals would strike an inequality in the pavement and start
+upon a brief frolic of its own, swinging out of line at a tangent until
+hauled back into place again by the pull of the shaggy horse. Sometimes
+all started in different directions at one and the same time, and the
+semblance to a skeleton snake was heightened--even the ominous rattle
+was not wanting. The Victoria looked restful to McCartney, whose legs
+were always tired.
+
+    "Why should we fret that others ride?
+    Perhaps dull care sits by their side,
+    And leaves us foot-men free!"
+
+he hummed to himself, recollecting an old college glee.
+
+"All the same that old bandbox looks not uncomfortable. How long is it
+since I have used a cushion! Poverty makes a poor bedfellow!"
+
+As the last equipage swung by, McCartney took a few steps in the same
+direction and clambered in. He had become a "foot-man" in fact, but a
+very undignified and luxurious one, who lay back with his feet crossed
+against the box in front of him. Of all the lights on Broadway none
+glowed so comfortingly for McCartney as the tip of his cigarette.
+
+"My prayer is answered," he remarked softly to himself. "Thus do I
+escape the 'monotonous feet.' Had I only Isabeau I should have attained
+the height of human happiness--to have dined, to smoke, to ride on
+cushions under the starlight, to have six dollars, and not to know
+where one is going--a plethora of gifts. So I can spare Isabeau for the
+nonce. Doubtless she would not particularly care for the delights of
+locomotion."
+
+Thus Voltaire sailed northward, noticed only by solitary policemen and
+lonely wayfarers. Near Eightieth Street his eye caught the burning
+circle of a clock pointing at half-past nine, and he stretched himself
+and yawned again. They were passing the vestibule of an old church which
+contrasted quaintly with the more ambitious modern architecture of the
+neighborhood. From the interior floated out the gray unison of a hymn.
+McCartney swung himself to the ground and listened while the skeleton
+rattled up the avenue.
+
+"Egad!" thought he, "yon prayerful folk are not troubled with my
+disorder. Hell is for them what Jersey City is for me--a vital reality."
+
+A woman, her head shrouded in a worn gray shawl, approached timidly and
+stationed herself near the door. McCartney could see that she was
+weeping and that she had a baby in her arms. He grumbled a bit to
+himself at this business. It did not suit his fancy--his scheme. Having
+planned a continuation of this night of comedy so auspiciously begun, he
+disliked any incongruity.
+
+"Broke?" he inquired without rising. The woman nodded.
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+"Dan cleared out the flat and skipped yesterday afternoon. We've had
+nothing to eat--me and the kid--all day."
+
+"Let's look at your hands."
+
+The woman held out a thin, rough, red hand. McCartney gave it a glance
+and continued:
+
+"What's your kid's name?"
+
+"Catherine."
+
+McCartney gazed at her intently.
+
+"Look here, do you think those folks in there would help you?"
+
+"I don't know. It's better than the Island."
+
+"Don't try it," advised McCartney. "They'd think you were working some
+game on 'em. Leave this graft to me."
+
+The woman started back, half frightened, but McCartney's smile reassured
+her.
+
+"Here's yours on account." He handed her the five-dollar bill he had
+secured from the Germans. "_I_ know how. _You_ don't. _You_ need it. _I_
+don't." He waved aside her thanks. "Now go home, and, listen to me,
+don't take Dan back--he's no good."
+
+The woman hurried away, and with her departure silence fell again.
+
+McCartney seated himself upon the curb and lit still another cigarette,
+eying the door expectantly. Once he arose and dropped a piece of silver
+into the poorbox inside the porch, listening intently to the loud rattle
+it made in falling. It was clearly the sole occupant, for no answering
+clink came in response.
+
+    "Alas for the rarity
+    Of Christian charity
+      Under the sun,"
+
+softly murmured McCartney.
+
+"You will be lonely in there all by yourself, little one. Here's a
+brother to keep you company," said he, pushing in another.
+
+The hymn ceased and the congregation began to pass out. McCartney
+retired into the darkness of a corner, scrutinizing every face among the
+worshipers. Last of all came a little old man scuffling along with the
+aid of a cane. His snowy beard gave him an aspect singularly benign.
+McCartney laughed to himself.
+
+"Grandpapa, I trust we shall become better acquainted," he remarked
+under his breath, as he followed the old fellow down the street.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The loud vibrations of the bell in the deserted rooms of the floor below
+brought no immediate response, and instead of a brighter blaze of
+hospitality, the light in the hall was hurriedly extinguished. McCartney
+only pressed his thumb to the round receptacle of the bell the more
+assiduously, repeating the process at varying intervals until the light
+again illumined the door. A shadow hesitated upon the lace curtain, then
+the door itself was slowly, doubtfully opened, and the old man shuffled
+into the vestibule, peering suspiciously through the iron fretwork.
+McCartney, without going too close--he knew well the dread of human
+eyes, face to face--looked nonchalantly up and down the street,
+realizing that he must give his quarry time to regain the
+self-possession this midnight visit had shattered. After a pause the
+bolt was shot and the door opened upon its chain.
+
+"Was that you ringing? What do you want?"
+
+"Yes, it was I who rang. I trust you'll excuse the lateness of my call.
+It's imperative for me to see you."
+
+"Who are you? And what do you want to see me about?"
+
+"My name is Blake. Blake of the _Daily Dial_. It is a personal matter."
+
+"Don't know you. Don't know any Blake. Don't read the _Dial_. What is
+the personal matter?"
+
+"For God's sake, sir, let me speak with you! It's a matter of life and
+death. Don't deny me, sir. Hear me first."
+
+The little old man closed the door a couple of inches.
+
+"Want money, eh?"
+
+"Help, sir. Only a word of sympathy. I've a dying child----"
+
+"Can't you come round in the morning?"
+
+"It will be too late then. I implore you to listen to me for only a few
+moments. I've been waiting two hours upon the sidewalk for you to
+return, and it's too late for me to go elsewhere."
+
+The door opened sufficiently for the old man to thrust his face close to
+the crack and inspect his visitor from head to heels. Evidently
+McCartney's appearance and the manner of his speech had made an
+impression which was now struggling with prudence and common sense. The
+deacon, moreover, had a reputation to support. It would not do to turn
+an applicant away who might be in dire extremity--and who might go
+elsewhere and carry the tale with him.
+
+"Won't a bed ticket do you, eh? And come in the morning?"
+
+McCartney saw the vacillation in the other's mind.
+
+"I'm sorry, but I must see you now, if at all. To-morrow might be too
+late."
+
+The owner of the house closed the door, unslipped the chain and
+retreated inside the hall to the foot of the stairs, leaving the way
+free for his visitor to follow. McCartney entered, hat in hand, and
+shut the door behind him, catching at a glance the austerity of the
+furniture and walls. To him every inch of the Brussels carpet, the
+ponderous, polished walnut hatrack, the massive blue china stand with
+its lonely umbrella and stout bamboo cane, and the heavily framed oil
+copy of St. John spoke eloquently.
+
+"I must ask your pardon again, sir, for disturbing you. But a man of
+your character, as you have no doubt discovered, must suffer for the
+sake of his reputation. I----"
+
+McCartney swayed and seized a yellow-plush _portiere_ for support. In a
+moment he had regained control of himself--apparently.
+
+"A touch of faintness. I haven't eaten since morning." He looked around
+for a chair. The old man made a show of concern.
+
+"Nothing to eat! Dear me! Well, well! Come in and sit down. Perhaps I
+can find something."
+
+Deacon Andrews led the way past the stairs and swung open the door to
+the dining room. It had a musty smell, just a hint of the prison pen at
+noon time, and McCartney shuddered. The old man disappeared into the
+darkness, struck a sulphur match, a fact noted by his guest, and with
+some difficulty lighted a gas jet in a grotesquely proportioned
+chandelier. The gas, which had blazed up, he turned down to half its
+original volume.
+
+"There, sit down," said he, pointing to a mahogany chair shrouded in a
+ticking cover, and settled himself in another on the opposite side of a
+great desert of table. McCartney did as he was bidden, mentally
+tabulating the additional facts offered to his observation by the
+remainder of the room. There was evident the same bare vastness as in
+the outer hall. Two more oils, one of mythological, the other of
+religious purport, balanced each other over the wings of a huge black
+carven sideboard. For the rest the yellow and brown wall paper repeated
+itself interminably into the shadow.
+
+"Feel better?" asked the deacon.
+
+"Yes, much," answered McCartney. "I'm used to going without food. The
+body can stand suffering better than the mind--and the heart."
+
+"Let's try and fix up the body first," remarked the deacon, opening a
+compartment beneath the sideboard. "Here, try some of these," and he
+placed a plate of water biscuits upon the table.
+
+McCartney essayed more or less successfully to eat one, while the old
+man retreated into the pantry and, after a hollow ringing of water upon
+an empty sink, returned with a thick tumbler of Croton.
+
+"Good, eh? Nothing like plain flour food and Adam's ale! Now, what is it
+you want to say? I must be getting to bed."
+
+McCartney hastily swallowed the last of the biscuit and leaned forward.
+
+"If I could be sure my dear wife and child could have this to-night, I
+should be happy indeed. Oh, sir, poverty can be borne--but to see those
+whom we love suffer and be powerless to help them--I can hardly address
+myself to you, sir. I have never asked for charity before. I'm a
+hard-working man. I had a good position, a little home of my own, and a
+wife and child whom I loved devotedly. I care for nothing else in the
+world. Then came the chance that ended so disastrously for us. I thought
+it was the tide in my affairs, you know, that might lead on to fortune.
+My wife was offered a position in a traveling company at sixteen
+dollars a week, and they agreed to take me with them as press agent at
+thirty-five--fifty dollars a week all told. Can you blame us?"
+
+"I don't approve of play acting," said the deacon.
+
+"Don't think the less of my wife for that. She meant it for the best."
+McCartney's face worked and he brushed his eyes with the back of his
+hand.
+
+"Look here, what's the use wasting time," interrupted the deacon. "How
+do I know who you are?"
+
+"You have only my word, sir, that is true."
+
+"What did you say you did for a living?"
+
+"I'm a reporter. I live by my pen, sir, and I write articles on various
+subjects for the newspapers. I have even written a very modest book. But
+the modern public has crude taste in literature," sighed McCartney.
+
+"Well, go on, now, and tell me about your trip or whatever it was," said
+the deacon.
+
+"I gave up for the time, as I said, the precarious livelihood of a space
+writer. We sublet our rooms. I spent what little money I had saved upon
+a costume for my wife, and we started out making one-night stands."
+
+"What was the name of your play?" inquired the deacon abruptly.
+
+"'The two Orphans,'" replied McCartney without hesitation. "We got along
+well enough until we reached Rochester, and there the show broke
+down--went to the wall. We were stranded, without a cent, in a
+theatrical boarding house. My wife was taken down with pneumonia and
+little Cathie----"
+
+"Little what?" asked the deacon.
+
+"Short for Catherine--caught the croup. We had nowhere to turn. I pawned
+my watch to pay our board bill. We were sleeping in a single room--the
+three of us. For days I tramped the streets of Rochester looking for
+some work to do, but I was absolutely friendless and could find nothing.
+My wife got a little better, but little Catherine seemed to grow worse.
+I pawned my wife's wedding ring, all my clothes but those I have on,
+even my baby's tiny little bracelet we bought for her on her second
+birthday--O God, how I suffered! We talked it all over and decided that
+as New York was the only place where I was known, I had better return
+and earn enough money to send for them as soon as I could. The manager
+let me use his pass back to the city. I reached here three days ago, but
+I have found no work of any sort. Some of the press boys have shared
+their meals with me, but for the moment I'm penniless. Meantime my wife
+is lying sick in a strange household and my little girl may be dying!"
+McCartney sobbed brokenly. "I'm at my last gasp. I've nowhere to sleep
+to-night. No money to buy breakfast. I can't even pay for a postage
+stamp to write to them!"
+
+"What street did you stay in at Rochester?"
+
+"1421 Maple Avenue," shot back McCartney. "I wish you could see my
+little Catherine--she's such a tiny ball of sunshine. Every morning she
+used to come and wake me, and say, 'Come, daddy, come to breaf-crust!'
+She couldn't pronounce the word right--I hope she never will. She called
+the little dog I gave her a fox 'terrial' dog. Some people say children
+are all alike. If they could only see _her_--if she's still alive. Why
+_I_ wouldn't give ten cents to live if I could only make sure Edith
+would have enough to get along on and give Catherine a decent education.
+I want that girl to grow up into a fine noble woman like her mother. And
+to think the last time I saw her she was lying in a stuffy hall bedroom
+in a third-class lodging house, her little forehead burning with fever,
+with my poor sick wife stretched beside her, fearing to move lest she
+should wake the child. She may be dead by this time, for I've had no
+work for three days, and I've been able to send them nothing--nothing!
+They may have been turned out into the streets, for the board bill was a
+week overdue when I left them. Don't you see it drives me nearly mad?
+I'm worse off a thousand times than if I stayed there with them.
+Sometimes I think there can't be any God, for if there was He'd never
+let me suffer so. And all for a little money--just because I can't pay
+the fare back to my sick wife and dying baby--my poor, sweet, little
+baby!"
+
+McCartney's voice broke and he buried his haggard face on his arms. For
+a moment or two neither spoke, then the deacon sighed deeply.
+
+"You do seem to have had hard luck," he remarked awkwardly. McCartney
+was still too overcome with emotion to reply.
+
+"I reckon I'll have to break my rule and help you without references. I
+don't believe in giving, as a rule, unless you know who you are giving
+to."
+
+He put his hand in his pocket.
+
+"But I'll do it this time." He placed two quarters upon the table.
+
+"There, half a dollar'll keep you nicely for a while. Of course, there's
+no use sendin' money to Rochester. Your landlady can't turn sick folks
+into the street, and if she does they can go to the hospital----"
+
+He paused, startled by the look on McCartney's face, for the latter had
+risen like an avenging angel, white and trembling. Pointing at the two
+harmless coins, he cried:
+
+"Is that your answer to the appeal of a starving man? Is that all your
+religion has done for you? Is that how you obey your Lord's teachings?
+'Cup of cold water' indeed! Cold water! Cold water! That's what you've
+got instead of blood; you withered old epidermis! You miserable,
+dried-up apology for a human being!" He paused for breath, sweeping the
+room with indignant scorn.
+
+"I know your kind! You old Christian Shylock! You bought those chromos
+at an auction! You took that old sideboard for a debt--yes, a debt at
+eighteen per cent interest. You don't pay a cent of taxes. You sing
+psalms and bag your trousers with kneeling on the platforms at prayer
+meetings and then loan out the church's money to yourself on worthless
+securities. You're too mean to keep a cat, for the cost of her milk. You
+read a penny newspaper and take books out of a circulating library. You
+put a petticoat on these chairs so your miserly little body won't wear
+out the seats."
+
+The lean vagabond half shouted his anathema, the pallor of his face and
+brow darkening red from the violence of his passion. It was the very
+ecstasy of anger. Before it the little man with the white hair shrank
+into himself, diminishing into his chair, seeking moral opportunity of
+escape.
+
+McCartney looked at the two coins contemptuously.
+
+"Bah!" he exclaimed in disgust. "Half a dollar for a dying child and a
+starving woman, to say nothing of a shelterless man!" He broke into a
+mirthless laugh. "Allow me to return your generous answer to my
+application for assistance. A code of morals of my own, which doubtless
+you would not appreciate, compels me to restore what is obviously ten
+times more precious to the donor than to the recipient."
+
+He filliped the two coins across the table into the lap of his host, who
+still crouched furtively with his head near the table.
+
+"It makes me sick to look at you! Who could gaze without disgust upon
+the spectacle of an ossified creature like yourself, creeping through
+bare, deserted old age toward a grave mortgaged to the devil? Ugh! It is
+the horridest spectacle I have seen in a month."
+
+"You're mad!" muttered the old man with hoarse fearfulness.
+
+"Sometimes, but not now!" retorted McCartney. "I'll hold my evening
+session for Misers a moment longer. I pity you, Lord Pinhead Penurious!
+I pity you that you should have gone through life, a small term of say
+sixty years, in such stupidity. Sixty years of grubbing, of weighing
+meat and adding figures, of watching the prices fools pay for stocks,
+and how many days of _life_? How many good deeds? Oh, marvelous lack of
+wit! What know you of real happiness? Let me introduce myself, since
+you're so blind. What do you think I am, my good old Noddy Numbskull?"
+
+"Crazy!" gasped the old man. "Do be quiet! Let me get you something more
+to eat."
+
+"A thief, at your service. Oh, don't start! I'll not carry away your
+mahogany sideboard nor your bronze chandelier. I steal only to keep
+myself in purse--to eat. You dig to add to the column of figures in your
+pass book. I walk among the gods. My brain is worth twenty gray bags
+like yours. I have thoughts and dreams in terms to you unintelligible. I
+can live more in a week than haply you have done in the course of your
+whole crawling existence. What do you know of the spirit? Behind your
+altar sits a calf of gold. You grovel before it and slip out at the
+bottom the shekels you drop in at the top. To you the moon will always
+be made of green cheese, that 'orbed maiden with white fire laden'! Your
+hands are callous from counting money, your brain is----"
+
+The old fellow arose. "Leave my house! Get out of here!"
+
+He was an absurd figure, not more than five feet high, in his black
+broadcloth suit and string tie, as he faced McCartney's blazing eyes,
+and the latter laughed at him.
+
+"I will fast enough. But you see I'm having a sensation--_living_. I'm
+doing good. Oh, yes, I am. If not to you, at least to myself. Do you
+think I'll ever forget little 'Cathie'? God! How I could have loved a
+real child! And I've only a cat." He laughed again. "I don't blame you
+for thinking me crazy--even you. Come, now, wasn't my picture of the
+phthisic wife and moaning child worth a place on the line--I mean,
+wasn't it good, eh? Worth more than two beggarly quarters? It gave me a
+thrill--what I need--it'll keep me alive for another twenty-four hours,
+without this." He held up a nickel-plated hypodermic syringe. It shone
+in the gaslight, and the old man started back and held out his hands.
+
+"Don't shoot!" he cried in senile terror.
+
+"Carrion!" cried McCartney. "Why do I waste my time on you? Why? Because
+I'm in your debt. I owe you little Catherine. I shall never forget her.
+And you, you--you are her foster father! God forbid!"
+
+The old man sat down resignedly at the extreme side of the table.
+
+"By God, I pity you!" exclaimed the lean man. "Do you hear that? _I_
+pity _you_--_I_!--a wretched, drugged, wilted, useless bundle of nerves
+twisted into the image of a man; a chap born with a silver spoon, with
+gifts, who tossed them all into the gutter--threw 'a pearl away richer
+than all his tribe'; a miserable creature who can't live without this"
+(he pressed the needles into his wrist), "and yet I wouldn't change with
+you! I'm more of a man than you. My very wants are sweeter than any joys
+your brutish senses can ever feel.
+
+    "O would there were a heaven to hear!
+    O would there were a hell to fear!
+    Dear Son of God, in mercy give
+    My soul to flames, but let me live!
+
+"You don't know what that means! Haven't the vaguest idea. You're a
+mummy. You'll be the same ten thousand years from now. I suppose you
+think I made it up, eh?
+
+    "I am discouraged by the street,
+    The pacing of monotonous feet.
+
+"That's all _you_ want. You couldn't understand anything else, and yet
+it's my torture, and my salvation!"
+
+The glow came back into McCartney's eyes and he repeated:
+
+"Yes, that picture of little Catherine was worth more than two quarters.
+It ought to have been good for twenty dollars. It's worth more than that
+to me."
+
+McCartney's voice had grown strong and clear.
+
+The old fellow looked at him sharply and changed his tone. He must get
+this madman out of his house. He must humor him.
+
+"Come, come, that's all right. Cheer up! Why, I had a little girl of my
+own once."
+
+McCartney pierced him through and through with swimming eyes.
+
+"And her memory was only worth two miserable quarters? You lie, you
+wretched old man, you lie!"
+
+The old fellow started back. The door banged. McCartney was gone.
+
+
+
+
+THE MAN HUNT
+
+
+I
+
+
+      _Note._--Action takes place about the year 1915.
+
+Ralston strode briskly up Fifth Avenue, conscious all about him of the
+electric pressure of War. It was six o'clock--the hour when the hard
+outlines of the tops of office buildings and the prosaic steeples of
+contemporary religion, flushed with rose, and "fretted with golden
+fire," melt with a glow of unreality into the darkening blue. Here and
+there in the eastern sky tiny points trembled elusively, and a molten
+crescent followed him along the housetops, its pale disk growing each
+instant brighter.
+
+Wheel traffic on the avenue, between the hours of nine and seven, had
+been suspended, and many pedestrians preferred the icy inequality of the
+street to the crowds upon the pavements. For the most part the movement
+was northward, meeting at the corners transverse streams of clerks and
+salesgirls jostling one another, arm in arm, down the side streets. Here
+and there could be seen an officer in service coat, with sword dangling
+beneath, and occasional knots of soldier boys in the uniform of the
+National Guard.
+
+A little lad with an air of vast importance ran just ahead of Ralston,
+unlocking the bases of the electric lights and, in some mysterious way,
+turning them on. To his intense gratification he had succeeded in
+distancing his fellow across the way by half a block. Above the shuffle
+of feet could be heard the cries of the newsmen, "Extra! Extra!
+President calls for twenty new regiments! Latest extra! Twelfth to the
+front." These, clutching huge bundles of papers to their breasts, hurled
+themselves against the tide of humanity, appearing from all directions
+and sweeping down like vultures upon any individual wayfarer so
+unfortunate as to have his hand momentarily in his pocket. Their bundles
+quickly disappeared. Then they would run panting to the corners where
+the paper wagons were in waiting. It was a scene full of inspiration to
+Ralston, but it impressed him that, after all, the crowd seemed
+primarily interested in its own affairs--its business, its cold ears,
+its suppers.
+
+For the newspapers the war had created a fierce, insatiable public maw.
+Circulations sprang by leaps into the millions. Extras followed one
+another by minutes. For the people in the shops it meant night work and
+longer hours; for society, something new to talk about; for the
+theaters, packed houses which roared at topical songs in which "war"
+rhymed with "bore," "rations" with "nations," "company" with "bump any,"
+"foes" with "toes," "sword" with "board," and gloried in "Eddie" Foy and
+"Jo" Weber dressed as major generals. "Light Cavalry" and "Dixie" had
+superseded all other selections upon the musical programmes, and special
+rows of seats were reserved for "officers in uniform." The bars were
+jammed, traveling men sat in more thickly serried ranks than usual in
+the hotel windows, and Slosson's Billiard Parlors were lined with
+standing spectators. The commercial life of the city boiled over. Only
+the brokers came home early.
+
+As Ralston entered Madison Square he found himself entangled in a dense
+throng wedged around an improvised scaffolding, upon which was displayed
+the electric-lighted bulletin of one of the big dailies. A man in a
+yellow-and-black-striped sweater was rapidly painting with a brush upon
+a blackboard in some white liquid the latest marching orders:
+
+     "_Twelfth Regiment leaves via Penn. R. R. to-morrow 7 A.M._"
+
+     "_Terrible Riots in Tokio._"
+
+     "_R. W. Ralston appointed Second Assistant Secretary of
+     the Navy._"
+
+As he fought his way through the crush he heard his name repeated on all
+sides, and a strange exaltation took possession of him. He had a curious
+desire to call out: "Yes. I'm Ralston! The Ralston up there! I'm he!
+That one! I'm Ralston!"
+
+He felt like a prince suddenly called from seclusion to rule his people.
+He was going to do things which these garlic-breathing folk would spell
+out and marvel at. How often his name would flash across the square or
+play duskily upon the curtains at the theaters, linked with generals and
+"fighting" admirals. He laughed with the joy of it, that he, the
+settled-down man of the world, the hunter, the manager of estates, the
+student of literature, the lover of poetry, was going to play the
+popular hero.
+
+He broke through the outer ring of the crowd and made for the park. A
+huge flag draped the porch of the Fifth Avenue Hotel. The flush in the
+west had faded to a streaky white and the stars had sprung from behind
+their curtains. A white beam of light played steadily from the tower of
+the Garden into the north. When it should swing to the south actual
+hostilities would have commenced. All the windows in the office
+buildings gleamed with activity. As he looked back he could see the man
+in the sweater erasing his name with a sponge, and his heart sank with
+momentary disappointment. Some new thing was coming over the wires hot
+with the fire of war. At the same moment he heard up the avenue the
+faint tapping of drums and the shriek of the fifes.
+
+A line of mounted police burst into the square. The throng in front of
+the bulletin board surged over to the park. Then with a clash of cymbals
+and a prolonged rattle from the drums a full band burst into "There'll
+be a Hot Time in the Old Town To-night." The regimental flags came into
+view. In the light of the stars, in the dying of the day, in the moment
+of his exaltation, Ralston recognized the colors of his old regiment.
+Had he chosen he might have been marching at the head of his company
+even then. The crowd, cheering, forced him to the curb and into the
+street. With brimming eyes he doffed his hat and saluted the colors.
+
+As he did so a sudden wild yell went up from the multitude. From one
+side of the square to the other reigned pandemonium. The very sound of
+the band was drowned in the uproar. From the top of the Flatiron
+Building a stream of rockets broke into the sky, and with a single
+movement the throng turned and gazed tensely at the Garden Tower, as the
+white shaft of light slowly swung into the south.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+The little white house on East Twenty-fifth Street was ablaze with light
+as Ralston eagerly mounted the low stoop and pressed the bell. The
+visitor knocked the slush from his overshoes, slapped the left pocket of
+his coat as if to make certain that something was still safely there,
+stepped quickly across the threshold when the butler opened the door,
+handed the man his hat, threw off his fur coat upon an ebony chair, and
+only paused, and that but for a moment, at the entrance of the
+drawing-room. He was a tall, clean-built, brisk young man, thoroughly
+American in type, with an alert face, which, if not handsome, was
+nevertheless agreeable and attractive--a man, in a word, whom one would
+not hesitate to address upon the street, provided the question was
+pertinent and the information essential.
+
+It was clear from his manner that he was no stranger, but to-day there
+were more women than usual at Miss Evarts's Monday afternoon, and the
+lights and chatter seemed a bit confusing to one whose mind was charged
+with the importance of a newly acquired responsibility. Miss Evarts was
+an old friend of his mother's, who, somewhat to his amused annoyance,
+took it upon herself to assume toward him a sort of sisterly attitude,
+which allowed her the privileges of relationship without prejudice to a
+certain degree of elderly sentiment. Attendance upon her selectly
+Bohemian gatherings was a duty which he performed when in town, with a
+regularity attributable less to a regard for Miss Evarts herself than to
+the fact that Ellen Ferguson was usually to be found there presiding
+over the tea table and ready for a brisk walk uptown afterwards.
+
+"Ha! There he is now!" exclaimed a middle-aged man, with iron-gray hair
+and pointed mustaches, as the newcomer parted the _portieres_.
+
+The group about the warrior turned with one accord and stared, at
+present teacups, in his direction.
+
+"Good afternoon, ladies and soldier," said Ralston. "I am the
+torchbearer of war. Firing has begun. The searchlight on the Garden is
+leveled south--like the lance of the horseman on the tower in Irving's
+'Legend of the Arabian Astrologer.'"
+
+The colonel set down his cup and pulled his mustaches with a heavy
+frown. He took pains to let it be seen that he was overcome with
+conflicting emotions--that stern duty summoned him from home and dear
+ones, but that his heart was throbbing to avenge his country's honor.
+They all looked toward him as if expecting a few appropriate remarks.
+The colonel's hands trembled, the veins upon his forehead swelled, and
+he seemed about to speak. Then he did.
+
+"You don't say!" he remarked.
+
+There was a sigh of disappointment from the ladies, and in the hiatus
+which followed Miss Evarts shook hands with Ralston and introduced him
+to the others as "the newly appointed secretary, you know." Which, or
+what of, she did not disclose.
+
+"I always thought Ralston was cast for a topliner," continued the
+hostess, as he modestly evaded their congratulations.
+
+"It's about time I left the chorus," answered her guest, adapting his
+language to Miss Evarts's open predilection for the footlights.
+
+"Kicked your way up?" inquired, in a hoarse voice, a stout lady of stage
+traditions, who was clad in a wall-paper effect of gay brocade.
+
+"My dear Mrs. Vokes, don't judge everybody by your own professional
+experience," remarked a young lady in brown, whose aquiline features
+were accounted "perfectly lovely" by a large suburban, theater-going
+public.
+
+"Come! Come!" interrupted Miss Evarts loudly. "Miss Warren, order
+yourself more humbly before your betters."
+
+The two popular favorites glared at one another defiantly.
+
+"Well, in any event, Colonel Duer, he'll soon be giving you your sealed
+orders," said Miss Evarts, thus disposing of a situation which might
+have become awkward.
+
+"Not unless the colonel gets a transfer. I'm steering the navy, not the
+army," laughed Ralston.
+
+"The man behind!" murmured Mrs. Vokes.
+
+Ralston bowed. "Very good, Mrs. Vokes," said he. "Yes, too far behind!"
+
+"The navy, of course," Miss Evarts corrected herself, letting fall a
+lump of sugar and following it with an attenuated rivulet of cream.
+"Just a drop, as usual?"
+
+"Did you read the President's proclamation?" asked a young girl in a
+gray picture hat. "Wasn't it splendid?"
+
+"Mr. Ralston will probably write the next one," interjected another.
+
+"No, only correct the proof," amended the hostess.
+
+"And point it with 'Maxims'?" ventured the Vokes, now restored to
+complete good humor.
+
+"Very sweet of you, Mrs. Vokes," said Ralston, recognizing the
+artificial dove of theatrical peace.
+
+"You leave very soon, don't you, colonel?" asked Miss Evarts. "Is your
+kit-bag ready?"
+
+"Yes, we leave by the Pennsylvania, at seven o'clock. The armory's a
+perfect bedlam. It looks as if every man in New York had collected all
+his worldly goods and chattels and dumped them on the tan bark," replied
+the colonel.
+
+"The confusion must be something delightful. I suppose you have plenty
+of canned peaches?" inquired the brown girl innocently. "I understand
+that they are the staple food of heroes."
+
+"They're certainly an indispensable stage property," admitted the
+colonel with something of an effort, recalling various evaporated
+valiants of the Cuban campaign.
+
+During this profound discussion Ralston's eyes had been wandering from
+group to group, and at this moment the object of their search herself
+joined the party upon the other side of the table.
+
+"Have another cup of tea, Ellen," urged Miss Evarts.
+
+"I can't, positively, Aunt Bess," responded the girl; "I must go
+presently."
+
+"How are things?" said the girl in brown, looking significantly at the
+colonel. "Have all your officers turned up?"
+
+"Ye-es," he replied. "Constructively."
+
+"Constructively?" persisted his inquisitor. "What a queer way to be
+present! Rather bad for an officer in a swell regiment to be dilatory,
+isn't it?"
+
+"Every man has shown up," replied the rather nettled veteran, "except
+one, and he'll be along, all right."
+
+"Oh, of course!" murmured the girl. "By the way, have you seen John
+Steadman? My cousin Fred, you know, is an officer in the same company,
+and he said last night at dinner that he hadn't seen him at the armory.
+Some one was mean enough to suggest that these ferocious military men
+aren't always 'warlike.'"
+
+"There are no tin soldiers in my regiment," answered the colonel
+severely, turning for reenforcement to Mrs. Vokes.
+
+Ellen Ferguson bit her lip, flashed a glance at the girl in brown and
+pulling her chinchilla boa into place departed with her nose in the air
+toward the next room. She paused for a moment to read the faded
+inscription, framed and hanging beneath an old cavalry saber on the
+opposite wall, then turning toward Ralston, raised her eyebrows
+inquiringly as if to ask how long he was going to occupy himself with
+fat old ladies and cheap actresses, and vanished. But the brown girl
+turned her guns on Ralston again before he could get away.
+
+"I didn't know you had any drag at Washington," she remarked. "Who have
+you got on your staff--a senator or just a common garden M.C.?"
+
+"Neither," he answered politely. "I don't know either of our senators,
+and I couldn't name a single congressman from the State."
+
+"And then you have been away so long," added Miss Evarts. "Why, it's
+eight months, isn't it? If you ever had any pull I should think it would
+have faded away long ago."
+
+"I was certainly the most surprised of all," said Ralston. "I haven't a
+blessed qualification for the job. I suppose the fact that I've just
+come from the Philippines and have seen something of the Asiatic
+Squadron may have had a little to do with it."
+
+"For the navy as against the army, perhaps," said the brown girl. "But
+it doesn't explain your getting an appointment in the first place. You
+must be a politician in sheep's clothing."
+
+"Well, to be perfectly frank," answered Ralston, seeing that he was in
+for it, "a year ago last September, when I was shooting out at Jackson's
+Hole, I ran across the President and saw something of him for a week or
+so. I was able to help him in a matter of no importance, and you know he
+isn't the kind that forgets anything. He's a good fellow!"
+
+"Just like him," commented the young lady. "Now, why didn't he give it
+to my brother George, who got nervous prostration making stump speeches
+for him at the last election?"
+
+"Oh, I admit it's entirely undeserved, but I must plead guilty to being
+glad of a branch office in the White House and of a chance to be one of
+the boys in the conning tower," answered Ralston.
+
+"Well, you're only an assistant secretary, anyway," said the girl. "I'm
+green with jealousy as it is. But aren't you sorry not to be going with
+your old company?"
+
+"Don't!" he exclaimed. "You make me feel as if I belonged to the Home
+Guard. Honestly, I'd rather be back with the regiment, but, you see, I
+had served my five years ages before you were born. I ought to give the
+younger fellows a chance."
+
+"I see," said the girl. "When do you go?"
+
+"To-morrow morning at ten. I reach Washington in time to dine at the
+White House."
+
+Several of the women arose and the group about the table gradually
+drifted away. The crowd was thinning out. Ralston, knowing very well
+that Ellen would be waiting for him, mumbled something to Miss Evarts
+and escaped.
+
+"Well!" he exclaimed, entering the other room, and seizing her hands as
+she stood with her back to the fire. "Pretty good, isn't it?"
+
+"I should say it was!" she cried delightedly. "Why, Dick, it's the
+chance of your life. If you make good only a little bit you may get
+anywhere. It's perfectly splendid! I'm so glad!"
+
+Genuine pleasure shone in her eyes. Ralston's heart beat faster. Of
+course she cared for him. She must care for him. There was a tide in the
+affairs of men which, taken at the flood-- He stepped closer and bent
+his head toward hers.
+
+"Nell--" he began.
+
+But she apparently was not listening, and the glad look had quickly
+given place to another. He paused, wondering at the change. Her dark
+eyes, with their Oriental, upturned corners, were half veiled and her
+high-arched brows were contracted in a frown. He drew back and pulled
+out his cigarette case.
+
+"Dick," she cried suddenly, "I want to tell you something! I'm sorry to
+bother you when you're so happy, and I'm so proud of you, but I'm
+terribly worried about something."
+
+"Dear! Dear!" laughed Ralston, striking a match and seeing that his
+opportunity had somehow vanished. "What's up? Been losing at bridge?"
+
+She smiled faintly.
+
+"Don't make fun of me," she replied. "No, I'm really bothered." She put
+her hand to her forehead and pushed back her hair. "I'm afraid one of my
+friends isn't-- Oh, I don't know how to explain it!"
+
+A momentary suspicion flashed across his mind.
+
+"Do you think I ought to go to the front?" he asked, relieved.
+
+She gave a little laugh.
+
+"You? What a goose! Of course not!"
+
+Ralston experienced a shock of disappointment.
+
+"What is it, then?"
+
+"Dick," said she in quick, subdued tones, "I can't help speaking about
+it, and you're the best friend I've got. It's about John."
+
+Ralston moved uneasily.
+
+"John Steadman?"
+
+"We're old friends, you know."
+
+"Yes, I remember."
+
+"I don't suppose you've seen him?"
+
+"Not since I came back. Before that, often."
+
+Ellen again passed her hand wearily across her forehead and turned
+abruptly away from the fire. The action was unconscious, involuntary. He
+had never associated Ellen with Steadman.
+
+"What is it?" he asked sympathetically.
+
+"Oh, nothing definite. Only he's been a little irregular of late. I
+haven't seen him for over a week. I don't think anybody has."
+
+"He's a captain in the Twelfth, isn't he?"
+
+"Yes. O Dick! You heard what that spiteful Warren girl said about tin
+soldiers?"
+
+"Of course. Nonsense!"
+
+"I can't help it. It's _Honor_, you know!"
+
+"You mean you think he mayn't turn up?"
+
+"I can't--I won't think that."
+
+"But he hasn't?--and they're beginning to talk?"
+
+"You heard for yourself."
+
+"Oh, _that_!"
+
+"Some people never live down less."
+
+"But if he does turn up, why there's an end to it," he said.
+
+"But why isn't he here?" she cried.
+
+"How do I know? He may be on a business trip."
+
+"Of course I thought of that," she replied.
+
+"Oh, he'll be there, all right, when the time comes."
+
+She began arranging her furs. One thing Ralston always admired about her
+was her care in dress. He did not know how few clothes she really had.
+She seemed always elegantly, if not luxuriously, clad.
+
+They strolled slowly toward the door.
+
+"Well," he said, "I'm awfully sorry you're upset. I'm sure he'll turn up
+all right. A man couldn't afford not to. Don't worry. If there was
+anything that I could do, no matter what, you know I'd be glad to do it
+for your sake, Ellen."
+
+"Thank you, Dick. I know that," she answered.
+
+"Well, good-by," said he. "Say good night to Miss Evarts for me, will
+you? I've got to run. I'm late for dinner as it is."
+
+She gave him her hand and he held it for a moment. As he did so he
+looked her full in the face.
+
+"Ellen," said he, "tell me something. Do you care about--Steadman?"
+
+She turned her head slightly from him before replying. Then she looked
+back again and answered hesitatingly:
+
+"I think--I care."
+
+As she spoke the words she withdrew her hand. Then she flushed and her
+eyes brightened.
+
+"Dick," she said slowly, in a voice that trembled a little, "I _know_ I
+care."
+
+The _portieres_ fell behind him. Mechanically he put on his overcoat and
+left the house, pausing for a moment at the top of the steps. A little
+smile hovered on his lips, but his eyes were very sad.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+Ralston walked as far as the Twenty-eighth Street subway station, where
+he caught a local for Forty-second Street. Thence he hurried to
+Delmonico's. It was now seven o'clock, and already the restaurant was
+nearly full.
+
+"Philip, have you seen Mr. Scott?" he asked of the doorman.
+
+"In the palm room, Mr. Ralston," answered the servant at once. "The head
+waiter told me to say that your dinner was ready."
+
+Ralston checked his coat, and soon caught sight of his newly engaged
+private secretary at a small table in a corner. They shook hands, and
+Scott pointed to a pile of letters and papers beside him.
+
+"This stuff came while you were out. I thought I'd better bring it along
+to save time."
+
+"Good!" commented Ralston. "What is most of it?"
+
+"Eight letters of congratulation, which I listed. A long letter from
+some old lady friend of yours when you were in Exeter----"
+
+"I know--Mrs. Gorringe."
+
+"Then that power of attorney from Bee, Single & Quick, that you
+expected. Oh, I don't know--a lot of circulars: 'Red Cross,' 'Special
+Relief,' 'Society for Assisting Wives and Children of Enlisted Men.'"
+
+"Send 'em twenty-five apiece."
+
+Mr. Scott took out his notebook and made an entry.
+
+"How about that power of attorney?"
+
+"It seemed all right. I don't know. We never had anything just like it
+in the law school."
+
+Ralston burst out laughing.
+
+"How old are you, Jim?"
+
+"Twenty-five."
+
+"Well, just wait ten years, and if you ever see a legal paper that looks
+like anything but a page out of Doomsday call my attention to it, will
+you?"
+
+"Well, it's got a seal, anyway."
+
+"How about those antelope heads from Livingston that were being
+mounted?"
+
+"Wilcox telephoned they'd be shipped to-morrow."
+
+By this time the soup had arrived, and both fell to with appetites born
+of a hard day's labor. The waiters were apparently serving "extras" with
+every course, and more than half the men at the tables were in uniform.
+Flags hung everywhere, and at each plate a _papier-mache_ cannon held
+the customary bonbons. In the extreme eastern corner the Hungarians were
+playing "Dixie," "Old Kentucky Home," "Maryland," "Star-Spangled
+Banner," "Suwanee River," "A Hot Time," and other patriotic airs, one
+after the other, the conclusion of each being marked by loud applause
+from all sides.
+
+"Isn't it great!" exclaimed Scott. "You know my governor thinks my going
+down with you is out of sight. He'd hate to have me enlist. Of course,
+I'd rather really, but in the long run I fancy there'll be more doin'
+right in Washington."
+
+"You'll be busy, all right," said Ralston. "Has Thompson packed all the
+trunks?"
+
+"Sure; ages ago."
+
+"And did you buy the tickets?"
+
+Scott produced the tickets with obvious pride.
+
+"Well, you're satisfactory so far. By the way, what are you going to do
+to-night?"
+
+"Mrs. Patterson's theater party--'The Martial Maid.'"
+
+"And you skipped the dinner?"
+
+"To dine with my chief. Orders, you know. Duty before pleasure."
+
+"Good boy!" said Ralston. "How did you fix it?"
+
+"Why, I spoke to Ellen and she managed it for me. Of course, if it was
+for you anything would go with her. Isn't she a stunner?"
+
+"You spoke to Ellen, did you? Well, you have a confidence born of your
+newly acquired elevation. I saw her at Miss Evarts's this afternoon. She
+didn't mention you, however."
+
+"Do you know a fellow named Steadman?" continued Scott. "Good-looking
+chap, but a 'weak sister,' I think."
+
+"Yes, I know him. Why?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. He's around with her a good deal."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, I hate to see a girl like that throw herself away, that's all,"
+burst out the secretary with energy.
+
+"Why, Steadman used to be a decent fellow enough," said Ralston,
+thinking rapidly. "Anything the matter with him that you know of?"
+
+"He bats an awful lot."
+
+"Something new?"
+
+"Yes; within six months. Uncle died and left him a lot of loose change.
+He's been blowing it in."
+
+"How? Of course, it's on the quiet?"
+
+"Oh, yes! He's at church every Sunday."
+
+"Yesterday?"
+
+"No. I meant metaphorically."
+
+By eight o'clock dinner had been entirely served, and Scott had received
+all his instructions.
+
+"Guess I'll step over to the Pattersons' now for a short cigar," he
+remarked, "and pick up the crowd. See you to-morrow at eight-thirty."
+
+"Good night. Have a good time," called Ralston after him, as the
+youthful figure passed out. He was very fond of Scott. He wondered if
+what the boy had said about Steadman was true. A fellow could go down a
+lot in six months, or in less. Steadman had always had a weakness.
+Ralston had never liked him, though forced to be in his company on many
+occasions.
+
+"I'll smoke at the room," he thought, and paid his bill. "I'm going off
+to Washington, William, so I'd better settle," he remarked to the old
+waiter.
+
+From Delmonico's he crossed the avenue, walked north for two blocks, and
+turned into his rooms, which were situated in a small, new bachelor
+apartment house. He found everything in confusion and Thompson hard at
+work packing books.
+
+He shed his frock coat for a smoking jacket, and took his seat at a low
+desk with a drop light, having brought his letters with him from the
+restaurant. First he rapidly answered his notes of congratulation,
+following a set form, then hastily read the power of attorney from his
+lawyers, and signed it, after which he O. K.'d a pile of bills, gave
+some instructions to Thompson about his library, wrote a long letter to
+his mother, who was spending the winter in Italy, then took up the
+letter from the "old lady in Exeter," and threw himself back into a
+chair before the fire.
+
+It was eighteen years since he had seen her, the woman who had kept the
+boarding house in which he had lived at school--who had mended his
+clothes, lent him small sums of money, brought him his meals when sick,
+served him for a temporary mother, lied for him when necessary, and been
+rewarded with the real affection of her young lodger. This was the first
+letter she had ever written him. In the left-hand corner of the white,
+blue-lined paper was an embossed reproduction of the State House in
+Boston, and the shaking penmanship filled every inch of space and ran
+back to the front page again.
+
+      EXETER, March 5, 19--.
+
+      DEAR RICHARD
+
+      You must forgive an old woman calling you Richard, who
+      worked so hard for you when you was a boy. You must be
+      quite a man by this time to be made Secretary of the
+      Navy as I was told by Deacon Stillwater. I am proud of
+      you, Richard, and so is everybody here, that one of my
+      boys should rise so high, whom I never thought of
+      except throwing apples at Mrs. Abbott's goat and
+      playing baseball in the middle of the street. I was
+      hoping to hear from you that you had married some
+      lovely young lady in New York. Don't put it off too
+      long. If you are not going to fight you would not even
+      have to wait until after the war. I am glad you are
+      not going to fight and yet will serve the country.
+      Think how long it is since I lost my dear husband at
+      Antietam--nearly fifty years. I am an old woman,
+      Richard, and shall not live long. I am going to leave
+      you my chest of drawers with brass handles you used to
+      like--you remember you used to keep chestnuts in the
+      bottom. Be a good boy. If you can spare the time from
+      your duties I shall be pleased to hear from you.
+
+      Your old friend,
+
+      SARAH GORRINGE.
+
+"Dear old soul!" he sighed, staring into the fire. "What a brute I am
+never to have written to her after all she did for me. The good woman's
+reward!"
+
+For nearly a half hour he sat thinking of his life at Exeter and of the
+changes time had wrought in his existence. Then he arose, carefully
+selected some writing materials, and wrote for some time without
+finishing his letter. Once he got up, crossed to the fire and studied
+for several minutes a photograph which stood on the mantel, after which
+he took a few strides around the room and returned to his task.
+
+Twenty minutes later he laid down his pen, and taking the pile of
+manuscript in his lap read it over carefully. The last paragraph he
+reread several times. Then he placed the whole thing in an envelope and
+addressed it--to Exeter, New Hampshire. The little clock on the mantel
+pointed to half-past nine as he took off his smoking jacket and called
+for his coat and hat. He was tired--very tired--but something made him
+restless.
+
+"I'm going to the club for a while," he said to his valet. "I'll be back
+in half an hour. Call a hansom."
+
+He waited with his back to the fire, still smoking.
+
+"Second Assistant Secretary to the Navy!" he muttered. "Not bad for
+thirty-four! . . . But what does it amount to? . . . What does anything
+amount to? . . . Who really cares? . . . It's like making the 'varsity
+or your senior society. . . . You always think there's some one--or that
+there may be some one . . ."
+
+"Cab's here, sir," said his man.
+
+Ralston gathered up the mail and started down the stairs. At the curb
+stood a hansom, the driver cloaked in a heavy waterproof. A fine rain
+had begun to fall, making the light from a nearby street lamp seem dim
+and uncertain. As Ralston stepped toward the lamp-post to mail his
+letters he observed a diminutive messenger boy vainly trying to decipher
+the address upon a telegram, which he was holding to the light. Ralston
+pushed the letters into the box and closed it with a slam.
+
+"Does Mr. Ralston live here?" asked the boy.
+
+"Right here!" answered Ralston, holding out his hand.
+
+"Please sign."
+
+He scrawled an apology for a signature upon the damp page of the book
+and tore the end off the envelope. Then, like the boy, he held the
+yellow paper to the light. It bore but nine words:
+
+      Please try to find John for my sake.--E.
+
+He read the words several times and repeated them aloud, as if in doubt
+as to their meaning. "Find Steadman!" Where? Find him! How? Why? . . .
+
+The messenger boy had started away, whistling shrilly "Marching Through
+Georgia." Ralston wrinkled his forehead. Here was irony of Fate for you!
+She called upon him to save the honor of this man, whom he hardly knew,
+for whom he cared not a whit, whom by this time he had begun to hate, to
+save him--for her. He stood motionless in the rain, the telegram hanging
+limply from his fingers. He had not seen Steadman for nine months. Knew
+practically nothing of him except from clubroom gossip. And Ellen asked
+him to find the man for her, in the seething life of the city--find him
+in such a way that, wherever found, his honor would be safe, find him
+secretly, surely, and place him upon his feet at the head of his company
+before the next morning at seven o'clock. He crumpled the paper into
+his pocket and turned to the waiting driver.
+
+"Just drive down the avenue slowly."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+He climbed in and threw himself back upon the seat.
+
+"Something of a large order, my dear young lady," he muttered. "If your
+attractive friend is to be found, it must be done without publicity. It
+would be a great deal worse to find him where he ought not to be, than
+not to find him at all. There are many cycles in New York's Inferno. If
+it were not for that, my old friend Inspector Donahue could send out a
+general alarm and turn him up before daylight. But that won't--no, that
+won't do. He's got to be located on the quiet and put into shape to
+march respectably off with his company.
+
+"By George!" he exclaimed aloud, "only a woman would think of asking a
+chap to set out on such a wild-goose chase! But then I don't suppose she
+realizes. She thinks he's playing billiards at the club, or something
+like that, maybe!" He set his teeth.
+
+"If she only knew!" he muttered. "Why didn't I speak a little sooner!"
+
+"She _thought_ she cared. . . . She _knew_ she cared!" he whispered to
+himself. Then he laughed rather grimly.
+
+And one who had happened to glance into the cab at that moment, as it
+passed a lamp, would have seen the gaunt face of a man smiling behind
+the tip of a cigar. Farther down the avenue another would have seen the
+same face without the cigar--without the smile.
+
+"Jerry's!" said Ralston sharply, through the manhole.
+
+The driver jerked the reins, wheeled his horse round abruptly, and
+started on a brisk trot through Forty-fourth Street. Then turning
+quickly down Sixth Avenue, he brought the hansom to a sudden stop in
+front of a restaurant whose electric lights flared valiantly into the
+rain and mist.
+
+There were three doors, but Ralston, without pausing, passed into the
+hostelry through the middle one. The cabman waited without orders, well
+aware that those who frequent Jerry's presumably desire the means of
+transportation therefrom. A bar ranged opposite an oyster counter gave a
+narrow passage to the dining room. At the end of the bar was a cashier's
+desk.
+
+The after-theater crowd had not yet arrived, it was too late for dinner
+guests, and few tables were occupied. Ralston, however, had not expected
+to find Steadman there. As he reached the desk a well-built, red-cheeked
+Irishman stepped forward.
+
+"How are you, Mr. Ralston? Congratulations!"
+
+Our friend grasped the hand of the other cordially.
+
+"How are you, Jerry?"
+
+"You're a bit of a stranger."
+
+"Yes. Something like a year. Been out looking over the Philippines."
+
+"Not so good as the little old place?"
+
+"I should say not. By the way, sit down over here a minute. I want to
+speak with you."
+
+Jerry led the way to the rear of the restaurant and offered Ralston a
+chair. Then he drew up across the table, while the latter put him a few
+brief questions.
+
+"Well, that's what I wanted," said Ralston, as they arose. "Yes, I
+remember now, he used to know her. I'll try it!"
+
+"I'm afraid it's the only tip I can give you, Mr. Ralston."
+
+"Thank you very much, Jerry. Remember, now. I haven't seen you--no
+matter what happens."
+
+"Not a word!"
+
+"Good night."
+
+"Good night, sir."
+
+Ralston crossed the sidewalk and sprang into the cab.
+
+"The Moonshine--stage," said he shortly.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+The party of which Ellen Ferguson was a member did not leave Sherry's
+until a comparatively late hour, and, while she was in no mood for
+gayety, anything which could fill the hours pending news of Steadman was
+a relief. She had found pleasure in talking to Jim Scott, that
+good-natured, immature, and loyal son of old Harvard, who had hardly
+opened his mouth the entire evening save in eulogy of his new chief.
+From the time they had left the house in the omnibus to the moment she
+had been deposited at her apartments he had not ceased his paean of
+praise. Ralston was a "corker," a "crackajack," it was a great thing to
+be going to work with a man like that--a fellow who had done things, not
+one of your sit-in-the-club-window-and-have-a-little-drink style of
+chappies (this with a significant glance at a certain Mr. Teadle who
+made one of the party), but one who could use a rifle or write a book
+with equal skill.
+
+Mr. Teadle saw no particular reason for Ralston's appointment? Jim
+supposed sarcastically that the only proper candidate _would_ have been
+an absinthe-drinking scribbler of anaemic little poems. For a short time
+it looked as if Jim were going to utilize Mr. Teadle as a mop, until
+Ellen came to the rescue by entering into a violent flirtation with the
+new secretary, who furtively wondered if she really cared for that
+Steadman fellow, after all. Miss Ferguson, on her side, like the boy
+immensely, but did not stop to analyze her reasons. His freshness and
+enthusiasm were enough to account for the attraction.
+
+The Moonshine Theater had suggested a ludicrous parody of Brussels on
+the eve of Waterloo, and Scott had loudly regretted that his job did not
+carry a uniform with it. There were whole rows of them in the orchestra
+and the gallery. For a finale the chorus sang the "Star-Spangled
+Banner"--all up, of course, with the whole house cheering and waving
+hats and handkerchiefs. Tears were in Ellen's eyes as the party made
+their way out of the box, along the side of the house, to the entrance
+where the omnibus was waiting. They had piled in, and then, just as they
+had started--_Ralston!_
+
+How strange that she should cross him in this fashion at such an hour!
+Could he have received her message? Perhaps, even now, a yellow slip was
+lying beneath her door marked: "Party not found." But if not on her
+mission, what was he doing at the stage entrance of the Moonshine?
+
+All through the supper at Sherry's, with its martial airs, its patriotic
+ices and confections, its wine and laughter, she was tormented by
+uncertainty. If he had not received the message! Time was flying,
+Steadman was not being sought for, Ralston was--dallying.
+
+Her maid removed her cloak and helped her undo her dress.
+
+"Has anything come for me?"
+
+"No, miss."
+
+"Telephone to the Western Union office and ask if my telegram was
+delivered."
+
+The maid disappeared, returning presently with the information that it
+had been receipted for at nine-thirty o'clock. With a warm wave of
+relief flooding her heart Ellen slipped on a light wrapper, and threw
+herself into an armchair before the sea-coal fire.
+
+[Illustration: "She studied the faces alternately."]
+
+"You need not wait, Elise. I shall sit up and read."
+
+"Very well, miss. Good night."
+
+"Good night," answered her mistress dreamily.
+
+Outside the rain swept steadily against the glass with a soft, silting
+sound. From time to time drops fell down the chimney and hissed for a
+moment ere they vanished black splotches upon the vermilion coals.
+Behind her an electric lamp of bronze, with an opaque shade, threw a dim
+light over her shoulder and lit up the masses of her loosened hair.
+
+Presently she arose slowly and went into an adjoining room, returning
+with a large photograph in either hand. They were framed alike. Placing
+them side by side upon the rug before her, she locked her hands across
+her knee, and studied the faces alternately. One was of a young
+man--almost a boy--with a narrow, high-bred face, dark eyes, sallow,
+with a mouth curved like a woman's. The other was Dick Ralston, taken
+about five years before, although the high cheekbones, the gaunt energy,
+the mature thoughtfulness suggested a man much older. That she cared for
+Steadman there was no doubt in her own mind. Had she refused to admit it
+definitely heretofore, the fact that he was now on the verge of social
+and moral annihilation made it no longer a matter of question. She felt
+that Steadman's honor was at this moment the most vital thing in her
+existence. He had thrown it at her feet after a long and romantic
+wooing. Had laid bare his entire past. She was convinced that he loved
+her. But at the crucial moment she had hesitated, had not responded in
+quite the way she had probably given him reason to expect. She had
+asked for time for reflection, and could give no adequate explanation in
+answer to his imperative "Why?" When later he had renewed his suit she
+had again forced a postponement, and he had departed, annoyed and
+perplexed.
+
+It was at this juncture that the money had dropped into his hands and he
+had disappeared. Where was he? On a shooting trip? He frankly admitted
+caring nothing for sport or hunting. It was not the season for travel,
+and his name was not upon the sailing lists. Her instinct told her that
+somewhere in the great city Steadman, oblivious to the call of duty, was
+living the life from which her influence had called him for a time,
+reckless of consequences, disregardful of the beckoning finger of
+opportunity. She knew also that this was his last chance.
+
+She realized that she could never marry Steadman disgraced, yet she felt
+now that she loved him, and that could she see him and watch him start
+for the front with his regiment, she would promise him what he had
+asked.
+
+She took Ralston's picture in her hand and held it to the light. It
+trembled a little. She knew she could have cared for him--but he was so
+stern, so strong, so capable. He had never treated her save as a sort of
+younger sister. She had often wondered if he cared or could care for any
+woman. With her he was always the same--kindly, sympathetic, obliging,
+thoughtful. What must he think of her, sending him forth in the dead of
+night to search the city for a man whom he scarcely knew? Her cheeks
+burned at the thought of what she had done.
+
+She had hardly known what she was asking when she had sent the message.
+It had been done hurriedly, as she was leaving for the Pattersons', on
+the impulse of a moment when she felt that, unless John Steadman could
+be found, life would cease for her to be worth living--sent in a sort
+of hysteria in which she instinctively turned to the one man in all the
+world upon whom she could call for any service she might ask. Dear old
+Dick! How tired he had looked in the rain! He might be up all night
+looking for Steadman, and then not find him! And he was to leave for
+Washington to-morrow.
+
+She went to the window, against which the rain drove in a fine shower,
+blurring the myriad lights below her that marched in long, straight
+lines to north, south, and east. On the Tower the searchlight still
+burned steadily. She shivered and went back to the fire. Then she laid
+one of the pictures gently against her cheek.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+The Moonshine Theater blazes its defiance into the night from a gleaming
+Broadway promontory, whose cape divides the restless human tide that
+rises to its neap every evening about eleven and falls to its ebb in the
+neighborhood of two or three in the morning. Through its arched portals
+one might drive a hansom cab, and tradition says that the feat has been
+accomplished.
+
+Here Mrs. Vokes, under the alias of "Helene DeLacy," first minced her
+way into popularity--but that was in the days of crinoline. The youths
+who loitered about its iron-bound stage entrance are gray-headed men
+to-day, those of them who are still alive. Only old Vincent remains, as
+rugged as a granite cliff, and as impervious to persuasion, bribery, or
+anger. "I'm sorry, gents, but it's against my orders," is said as
+conclusively to-night as it was twenty years ago. He got as far as:
+
+"I'm sorry, sir, but it's against--" then changed it to a wondering:
+"Bless my soul, Mr. Ralston! Is it you?" as he encountered the set face
+of our friend.
+
+"Why, Vincent," exclaimed the latter, "you still here? What luck! You
+don't look a day older!"
+
+"I can't say the same for you, sir. I understand congratulations are in
+order. Oh, I read the papers. But--" he hesitated.
+
+"But you think I'm rather old for 'Johnnying'?" interpolated Ralston.
+"You're quite right. I am. But don't be alarmed; this is business. I
+want to find a young woman named Ernestine Hudson. I must see her at
+once. Can you fix it for me?"
+
+"I think so," answered the guardian of the wings. "I'd do it if I lost
+my job. I won't forget in a hurry what you did for my little Bill. Just
+step----"
+
+At that instant the door was thrust violently open and a gray-coated
+messenger boy, carrying a large oblong box, projected himself violently
+against Vincent.
+
+"For Hudson!" he ejaculated shortly.
+
+"Put 'em on that desk," directed Vincent.
+
+"Say, boss, let me take 'em in," pleaded the boy.
+
+"Who do you think you are, anyway?" inquired the doorkeeper. "Get out of
+here."
+
+The boy lingered, gazing wistfully down the gas-lighted passage, through
+which floated the hum of the orchestra, confused by the shuffle of feet
+and inarticulate orders.
+
+Vincent took a threatening step in the direction of the boy, who made a
+grimace at him and backed slowly through the door. Ralston smiled and
+looked inquiringly at the box.
+
+"It might serve as an introduction," he suggested with a smile.
+
+"You don't need it," said Vincent. "I guess you remember the way. Just
+step down the passage, and you'll find the chorus ready to go on for the
+second act. Hudson's the wheel horse for the partridges. She has a bunch
+of tail sprouts like a feather duster. What fool things the public pay
+to see nowadays! Why, they ain't content to let a girl be a girl, but
+they have to turn her into a bird, or a dress form, or a wax figger, or
+an automobile, or a flower. Now take this show. It's supposed to be a
+kind of a 'flag-raiser.' 'Marchin' Through Georgy' and 'Campin'
+To-night' and all that, and the chorus is _birds_. Birds! Sparrers,
+canaries, and partridges!" he grunted scornfully. "Well, good luck. See
+you later."
+
+Ralston walked down the passage and pushed open the skeleton canvas door
+that separated him from the wings. The curtain was down, and a small
+army of men were noisily pulling enormous flies into place by means of
+pulleys. One group in the center of the stage were erecting a "Port
+Arthur" bristling with guns, and several with wheelbarrows were bringing
+in a foreground of rocks, which others arranged with elaborate
+carelessness. Overhead hung a wilderness of ropes and drops, with
+sections of scenery suspended in mid-air. Two spiral staircases of iron
+sprang from either side and lost themselves in the tangle above.
+Ascending and descending were a perpetual stream of heterogeneous
+figures, who went up as birds and came down as village maidens, or who
+from grand dames of fashion were transformed into Quakeresses or drummer
+boys. There was loud chattering on all sides, interspersed with deep
+invectives from the coatless hustlers on the stage. Above all shrieked
+and rattled the pulleys.
+
+The blinding light and the clouds of dust made the scene utterly
+confusing, and for a moment Ralston hesitated vaguely. To his left a
+flock of "partridges" clustered about one of the flies, while one little
+lady partridge sat apart on a nail keg, and eased her little partridge
+foot by loosening her slipper.
+
+To the nearest Ralston turned and inquired for Miss Hudson. The girl
+whom he had addressed stared boldly at him, and without replying waved
+languidly toward the partridge on the barrel. It was evident that she
+took no interest in the friends of Miss Hudson. Ralston turned, and at
+the same moment heard a shrill cackle from the group behind him. In
+spite of himself he could feel the red coursing up to his ears. The girl
+on the barrel had entirely removed her slipper and was stretching her
+toes. She did not look up at his approach, having already minutely
+studied his make-up under the shelter of her heavily corked eyebrows, as
+he emerged from the passage.
+
+"Are you Miss Hudson?"
+
+"Yes," said the partridge, critically examining her instep.
+
+"My name is Ralston," he began rapidly. "I'm looking for a friend of
+mine, who must be turned up at once. It's a matter of life and death,
+and he's got to be found. I have an idea you know him."
+
+"Have you?" said the partridge innocently.
+
+"The man I refer to is John Steadman. Do you know where he is?"
+
+The girl slowly lifted her head and looked at him rather impudently. She
+seemed more like a large doll than a girl.
+
+"I haven't the pleasure of your acquaintance, Mr. Ralston, if that is
+your name, and I don't know your friend Steadman."
+
+There was something about her manner that convinced Ralston that she
+knew more than she admitted, but it was obvious that for purposes of her
+own she had made up her mind to treat him with the scant courtesy
+usually extended by show girls to people who are not worth while, and to
+people it is worth while to keep for a time at a distance.
+
+"I'm very sorry," said Ralston. "I believed that you were the one
+person in New York who could tell me where he was. Of course, you might
+know him under some other name."
+
+"Why are you so interested in finding this Mr.--Steadman?" asked the
+partridge, studiously inserting her foot in a shoe that seemed all toe.
+
+"Simply for his own sake."
+
+"Don't you ever come behind for yours?" she inquired abstractedly.
+Ralston suppressed a smile.
+
+"See here, young lady--" he began, changing his tactics.
+
+"All on for the second!" shouted a big man in a Derby hat. "Here you,
+Hudson, stop fooling and get into your place! Clear the wings."
+
+From behind the wall of curtain came the distant crash of the contending
+chords of the overture. "Port Arthur" with its rocks was in place, the
+Japanese flag flying defiantly in a strong current of air, generated by
+a frenzied electric fan held by a "super" in the moat. The chorus
+trooped from the flies, and came tumbling down fire escapes and
+staircases.
+
+The partridge knocked her heels together and jumped lightly to her feet.
+
+"Peep-peep!" she said. "See you later, old man. Stage door about
+eleven-thirty."
+
+She nodded at him and started hopping toward the stage. The other
+partridges were forming in long lines, with much jostling of tail
+feathers and fluttering of pinions.
+
+"Hurry up there!" shouted the assistant "stage" in Miss Hudson's
+direction, and then turned hastily toward the opposite flies where some
+mix-up had attracted his attention.
+
+Ralston saw his last clew hopping away from him. A bell rang loudly, and
+the orchestra struck up the first few bars of the opening chorus. Hardly
+conscious of what he was doing Ralston strode quickly after the
+partridge and, grasping her firmly by the wings, drew her back into the
+flies.
+
+"Let me go!" she gasped, struggling to free herself. "Let me go! What
+are you trying to do? Do you want to get me fined?"
+
+"Keep quiet," whispered Ralston, "I've got to speak to you. Do you
+understand? I can't let you go on. I'll stand for any fine, and square
+you into the bargain. It's too late, anyway! The curtain's up already."
+
+"Let me go!" she cried, the tears starting into her eyes. "You're
+hurting me, you brute! I'll lose my job. The management don't stand for
+this kind of thing. You're a fine gentleman, _you_ are! Oh, what shall I
+do?"
+
+Ralston's heart smote him. He knew well the hideous uncertainty which
+being out of a job means to the chorus girl, and its more hideous
+possibilities.
+
+"I'm sorry," he said humbly. "I had to do it, and I promise you shall
+lose nothing by it. Now, quick, where can we talk? Not here? The manager
+would see you."
+
+The partridge wiped her eyes.
+
+"Do you promise to square the management?"
+
+"I certainly do--on my honor as a gentleman."
+
+"Then come!" Hudson darted quickly back among the scenery, and Ralston
+followed her down a flight of iron steps which led beneath the stage.
+Pipes ran in all directions, and great heaps of old flies and useless
+properties reached toward the low ceiling, between which narrow alleys
+led off into the darkness. A smell of mold and of paint filled the air.
+Even the scant gas jets seemed to burn with a peculiar dimness in the
+damp atmosphere.
+
+"Come along!" whistled the partridge.
+
+Beyond a pile of lumber in a sort of catacomb she stopped. A bead of gas
+showed blue against some whitewashed brickwork.
+
+"Turn it up," said Hudson, and Ralston did so.
+
+"Hungry?" she continued. "_I_ could eat anything that 'didn't bite me
+first!'"
+
+Ralston laughed.
+
+"Were you in that show?" he asked. "It was a good one. No, I'm not
+hungry. Suppose I were?"
+
+"This is our rathskeller," she laughed. "Are you thirsty?"
+
+Ralston admitted to a certain degree of dryness.
+
+"Certainly," he said, "I should like nothing better than a large
+schooner of dark, imported beer. What will you have?" he continued,
+carrying on the jest.
+
+Hudson, who had seated herself on a low seat by the wall, got up and
+struck sharply on the wooden partition with a stick.
+
+"What's that?" asked Ralston.
+
+"Perhaps some beer will come out!" remarked the partridge. "Moses was
+not the only one."
+
+A rattling followed, and a square opening appeared in the wall, in which
+the shaggy tow-head of a young man was visible.
+
+He grinned at sight of Miss Hudson.
+
+"How vas de shootink?" he inquired. "Does de bartridges vant more vet?
+Ha! Ha! You _vas_ a bird!"
+
+"Ya, Fritz. Two schooners and a hot dog. Hustle 'em up."
+
+Fritz closed the slide which covered the opening and the partridge
+turned gayly toward Ralston.
+
+"What do you think of that? Pretty good, eh?"
+
+"I don't understand," he replied. "Where did he come from? What is in
+there?"
+
+"I'll tell you. When 'Abe' Erlanger built this house there was a row of
+old tenements on the side street. Well, Jo Bimberger tore 'em down and
+built a rathskeller. While he was doing it one of the girls tipped off
+the boss carpenter to leave this place. Ain't it grand? Say, you get
+almost dead jumping around on the boards. It looks easy enough, but I
+tell you sometimes you're ready to scream."
+
+"Just the thing," answered our friend. "Do the management object?"
+
+"Not a bit. 'Abe' gets a rake-off from the saloon. It's good business."
+
+The slide opened and two dripping glasses made their appearance. Ralston
+received them and handed one to Miss Hudson. Then Fritz passed in a
+frankfurter about the size of a policeman's night stick.
+
+Ralston drew half a dollar from his pocket and exchanged it for the
+sausage.
+
+"That's all right, keep the change," he remarked.
+
+"My, you must have it to throw away!" said Hudson. "Twenty-three for
+you, Fritz. Shut the slide."
+
+Ralston took a deep draught of the beer. He could not help smiling as he
+thought of the picture he would present could any one of his associates
+see him at the moment. What, for instance, would the President have
+said? And the Secretary of War! Underneath the stage of a theater,
+drinking beer with a chorus girl! He put down the glass and pulled
+himself together.
+
+"Now to business!" he exclaimed. "This is jolly good fun, but I've a
+long night in front of me, and I've got work to do in it. Where is
+Steadman?"
+
+The partridge looked at him inquiringly.
+
+"You don't mean you really are trying to find anyone?"
+
+"Certainly I do."
+
+"Steadman?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+She shrugged her shoulders. It was clear, even to Ralston, that she was
+disappointed.
+
+"I can't help you."
+
+"You _know_ him?" Ralston's gaze penetrated her feathers.
+
+"Yes. But I don't know where he is--and what is more, I don't care. He's
+a cad."
+
+"Well, let it go at that. But I've got to find him. How long is it since
+you've seen him?"
+
+"Three weeks."
+
+"What was he up to?"
+
+"Oh, the usual business. He's badly in. Let him go; he's not worth your
+while."
+
+"I didn't say he was. But he must be turned up. Was he drinking?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Ah!" Ralston scowled.
+
+"He's a bad one," continued the partridge. "He began at the bottom and
+worked down."
+
+"You must help me to find him. Who is he running with?"
+
+"I don't know anything about him. I've heard he knows a girl named
+Florence Davenport. If you can find her she might help you."
+
+"Where does she live?"
+
+"On Forty-sixth Street," and she gave him a number.
+
+Ralston arose and put his hand in his pocket.
+
+"I am very much indebted to you," he said courteously. "You won't mind
+if I make good your fine?"
+
+He drew out a bill and placed it in her hand. She raised her eyebrows at
+sight of its denomination.
+
+"No," she said, "I haven't done anything for you. I don't want the
+money."
+
+"But your fine?"
+
+"That's all right," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "I could have
+gone on--if I'd wanted to. I was merely bluffing. You couldn't have held
+me. You're a gentleman, and I don't want the money." She spoke quietly,
+and looked him full in the face. Ralston wavered.
+
+"Please don't," said the girl, and held out the bill. Ralston took it
+and returned it to his pocket.
+
+"Miss Hudson," said he, "you have placed me under a great obligation,
+one that money cannot repay. If I can ever help you in any way let me
+know."
+
+The partridge got up and led the way toward the staircase. At the top
+she held out her hand and Ralston took it in his.
+
+"He's not worth it," she repeated. "Let him go."
+
+"_Noblesse oblige_," he smiled, looking down at her.
+
+The chorus had filed off the stage and were standing on the other side.
+
+"Here you, Hudson! Where have you been?" whispered the manager hoarsely,
+grasping her roughly by the shoulder. "Get over there."
+
+"Leave me alone!" she cried sharply, shaking off his arm. Then, turning
+to Ralston:
+
+"Good night, sir," she said.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+Outside the Moonshine Ralston found the usual congestion of cabs,
+landaus, and wagons. He had delayed to exchange a few reminiscences with
+old Vincent, and it was fully ten minutes before he could find his cabby
+in the tangle of vehicles. As he stepped into the street, to save the
+time requisite for the man to draw to the curb, an omnibus was vainly
+trying to force its way through the side street. It had paused for an
+instant in front of the stage entrance, and Ralston had caught a glimpse
+of Ellen's face inside.
+
+A momentary impulse had seized him to stop the coach and tell her of the
+hopelessness of the task upon which she had sent him, but in the instant
+of his uncertainty the way had cleared and they had driven on. He had
+climbed into his own hansom, little the wiser for his experience at the
+Moonshine.
+
+The sidewalks were jammed with the usual after-theater crowd hurrying
+either to get home as quickly as possible or to secure seats in
+restaurants which pandered less to the taste of the _gourmet_ than to
+those of the _roue_. For a solid mile on either side of Broadway
+stretched house after house of entertainment, any one of which could
+harbor a hundred Steadmans, and for a quarter of a mile on either hand
+lay twenty streets, lined with places of a character vastly more likely
+to do so. He followed the crowd slowly northward, wondering why so few
+of them walked in the opposite direction. Whenever he came to a
+well-known hostelry he went in and eagerly scanned the tables, but,
+although he recognized many he knew and who knew him, he found naught of
+Steadman.
+
+Having visited five "chophouses," a "rathskeller," two "hofbraus," and
+several more pretentious places, he abandoned the idea of trying to
+stumble upon his man, and returned to his original belief that only by
+following some sort of a clew could he succeed. Somewhere in the hot
+clasp of the city lay the miserable youth he had promised to find. For a
+moment he regretted the answer which he had just sent to Ellen's
+apartment--the four words that had pledged him to a fool's errand, the
+absurdity of which was now apparent. Then came a realizing sense of the
+importance to Ellen of his mission, and a grim determination to find
+this man wherever he might be.
+
+He had now reached Forty-second Street, and the crowd divided into two
+streams, one moving eastward and the other northward, a part of the
+latter to plunge beneath the Times Building into the subway, and the
+remainder to add to the already existing congestion in front of the
+Hotel Astor, Rector's, Shanley's, and the New York Theater. Longacre
+Square boiled with life--a life garish, tawdry, sensual and vulgar,
+unlike that of any other city or generation.
+
+The restaurants could seat no more, and a bejeweled, scented throng
+stood in the doorways and struggled for the vacant tables. The night
+hawks lining the curb peered eagerly at every passer-by to note signs of
+intoxication or indecision. Tiny newsboys thrust their bundles of papers
+against dress waistcoats and felt for loose watches, ready to dart into
+the throng at the first move of suspicion on the part of their victims.
+Clerks with their best girls pointed out these and made witticisms upon
+them, hoping thus to divert attention from the attractions of the
+restaurants, for whose splendors they intended later to substitute the
+more substantial, if more economical, pleasures of the dairy lunch.
+Automobiles, in which sat supercilious foreign chauffeurs, blocked the
+entrances of the pleasure palaces. Streams of country folk poured in and
+out of hotels which made a specialty of rural trade, promising to their
+patrons, in widely distributed circulars, easy access to everything
+"worth seeing." These came, were relieved of their money, and, after
+fervid correspondence on the hotel stationery, went home to poison the
+minds of their townfolk with descriptions of scenes which existed only
+in their imaginations.
+
+For every person on Longacre Square after midnight who is there for an
+honest purpose, there are three who are there either to do that which
+they should not do or to see that which they should not see. It is the
+white light in which the New York moth plays before he plunges into the
+withering flame. It was here Steadman had begun, and like enough he was
+not far off.
+
+The electric clock above the roof tops moved to a quarter before one as
+Ralston turned into Forty-sixth Street, and he looked both ways before
+springing from his hansom and dashing up the steps of the number to
+which he had been directed. After some time a mulatto maid opened the
+door and asked his business. Miss Davenport was out, she said. Ralston
+stretched the truth far enough to say that he was a friend. The girl had
+no idea where she could be found. Then Ralston also volunteered that he
+was a friend of Mr. Steadman's. Still the maid remained imperturbable.
+The sight of a bill, however, led to an immediate change of demeanor.
+
+Yes, Miss Davenport had gone out with a gentleman--not Mr.
+Steadman--early in the evening. Did she know Mr. Steadman? Yes, she
+thought she knew Mr. Steadman--a dark gentleman. She seemed anxious to
+help Ralston, but doubtful of success.
+
+As was not unreasonable, Ralston was beginning to be quite disgusted at
+the position in which he found himself, a condition which was by no
+means relieved by the fact that, as he reached the bottom of the steps,
+he found himself face to face with Colonel Duer and a somewhat elderly
+lady companion. The new Assistant Secretary felt distinctly
+uncomfortable. Another man might have turned away his face, but Ralston
+looked steadily into the colonel's under the full light of the street
+lamp. Simultaneously he raised his hand to his hat, then crossed the
+sidewalk and jumped into the hansom. The cabby lifted the manhole and
+looked down the air shaft.
+
+"Huh?" said he. "Where'll I go now?"
+
+"I don't know," said Ralston.
+
+The cabby chuckled. He was satisfied one way quite as well as another.
+From his seat of vantage he was able to look down critically upon
+mankind in general, and had learned to distinguish "the real thing" when
+he saw it. He had no doubts as to Ralston, and no misgivings at all as
+to the latter's ability to pay and pay well, and he was as confident
+that his tip would be in accordance with the most advanced ideas of
+liberality as he was that this same fare of his was quite out of the
+ordinary. He had sized Ralston for a thoroughbred from the moment that
+he had come downstairs. For one thing he did not waste words, for
+another he neither looked at his watch nor inquired the price; for
+another--and you could always tell by that--he knew just what he was
+doing. Moreover, he was perfectly sober. He belonged to that small and
+distinguished body of midnight travelers who realize that they are in a
+cab and not in a hammock. Hence Ralston's admission that he did not know
+where to go to next struck upon the cabby intelligence in the light of a
+joke.
+
+"Huh?" said he again, removing his cigar.
+
+"I said I didn't know," repeated Ralston.
+
+"Up against it!" said cabby with divination.
+
+"Exactly," returned his fare with a slight laugh. "You are a man of
+perspicacity."
+
+"Huh?" repeated the cabby.
+
+"I said you were a mind reader," answered Ralston.
+
+"I guess I can see furder'n most," admitted cabby complacently.
+
+Ralston had struck a match and lit a fresh cigar. He was feeling very,
+very tired. His watch showed that there were exactly six hours left
+before the Twelfth would start--not a minute more.
+
+The cabby was still peering down the manhole and dropping an occasional
+sympathetic ash on Ralston's silk hat. His fare interested him--he was
+beginning to have a notion that Ralston was somebody. Maybe a big
+military gun. He had that clean, hard look those fellers have.
+
+Suddenly the fare spoke again, in an even more amiable tone than before.
+
+"My friend, how long have you been in this business?"
+
+The cabby hesitated while he made an accurate mathematical computation.
+
+"Five years on a percentage--ten years on my own--fifteen years, sir."
+
+"You know the town pretty well, eh?"
+
+"Fairly well, sir."
+
+"Is there a _cafe_ somewhere a bit out of the way--something quiet, you
+know?"
+
+"Sure, across the square. Shall I drive you there?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The cabby clucked to his horse, and they wheeled about and crossed the
+White Way again. The pedestrians were thinning out. The rain had ceased,
+the clouds had parted, and the sky was sprinkled with brightly burning
+stars. Up in the Times Tower the afternoon before one of the editorial
+writers had polished up a "war-whoop" such as, he had said to himself,
+would make the Japanese emperor scratch his head. It was a half-column
+"drip" in the nature of a "Godspeed" to the first volunteer regiment to
+start for the front. He liked the Twelfth, and had been in it himself
+under Ralston. The thought had reminded him that he ought to give his
+old captain a bit of a send-off as well, and he had penned a dozen lines
+to be inserted after the other, and headed "A Wise Appointment," ending
+his short paragraph with the words: "The nation is to be sincerely
+congratulated on the wisdom of the Executive's selection."
+
+Twenty-five stories below, the subject of his encomium was now entering
+the side door of a shabby _cafe_, followed by his cabby. They seated
+themselves at a table in the corner of the sawdust-covered floor.
+
+"The situation is this," began Ralston, after the waiter had picked up
+his tip and retired. "I must, inside of six hours, turn up a man who is
+somewhere in the city. He doesn't know enough to want to be found. He
+must be located without outside help--quietly. The only clew I have to
+his whereabouts is that he knows a young woman named Florence Davenport.
+She lives in that house we stopped at. She has gone out with a man named
+Sullivan. I don't know the fellow, but the chances are he won't help me.
+But whether he will or not, I don't know where he is, and I must find
+him in order to find her."
+
+He looked at the cabby inquiringly.
+
+"I know him, all right," said the cabby. "A big 'harp' with a sandy
+mustache. I know her, too. I took 'em both out this very night."
+
+"Took them out!" exclaimed Ralston. "Why, in Heaven's name, didn't you
+say so before!" Then he remembered and laughed at the absurdity of his
+question. The fatigue of a severe day was dissipated in a moment.
+
+"Sure," continued the cabby, "I took 'em out just before I answered your
+call. She uses the same stable."
+
+"Where did they go?"
+
+"Proctor's."
+
+"Where do you suppose they are now?"
+
+"You can search me!" responded the cabby, now thoroughly interested.
+"The chances are about even between Shanley's and the Martin, but you
+tried Shanley's. Better hike right down to the other place."
+
+Ralston started swiftly to his feet, made his way to the cab, and in a
+moment more they were galloping down Broadway.
+
+The electric timepiece on the roofs marked four minutes past one as
+they rattled past. What people were still awake were most of them
+inside the shining windows of the restaurants, and the big porters
+were leaning sleepily against the doorposts of their hostelries. In
+the cab Ralston wondered what the President would say if he could see
+him then, chasing all over the town after a young woman and her male
+escort. He was dreadfully sleepy, and the cushions of the cab were so
+soft--soft--sof----
+
+He pulled himself together as the cab reined up sharply at the
+Twenty-sixth Street entrance of the Cafe Martin. His driver did not need
+to be told to wait, and Ralston hurriedly pushed his way through the
+revolving doors into the hot, scented air of the waiting hall. If it was
+late on Broadway, it was early enough inside the Martin.
+
+On the right, in a crowded _cafe_, two hundred soldier boys and
+civilians with their sweethearts sat noisily discussing broiled
+lobsters, Welsh rarebits, caviare sandwiches, and such less important
+matters as were suggested by the last news from Washington. The air
+reeked with the fumes of hot food, cigarette smoke, and steam heat. When
+the side door opened, and the draught pulled through from the main
+dining room, one caught a whiff of rice powder and violets. The chatter
+and clatter were deafening.
+
+To Ralston the chances seemed in favor of the other and more conspicuous
+company in the front room, so he turned back and crossed the hall. At
+the door of the main dining room he paused. At fully eighteen out of the
+twenty-five tables which were presented to his view sat an equal number
+of young women who might have qualified as Miss Florence Davenport.
+There was more room here, the music was louder, and the men had on
+either uniforms or evening dress. The confusion was even greater than in
+the _cafe_, due to the greater amount of light and music and the
+variation of color. Here and there at the larger tables sat groups of
+officers, indulging in pompous patriotic toasts.
+
+Ralston moved toward the center of the room, eagerly scanning the tables
+in search of a blond man with a light mustache, but he saw none to
+correspond with the cabby's description. Then from behind him he heard
+his name called, and he turned to be greeted by a chorus of
+congratulatory welcome from a party of his old comrades of the Twelfth,
+who crowded around him, drew him into a chair and ordered more bottles.
+
+Ralston protested but feebly. He was out of sorts with the whole
+miserable business.
+
+"Here's to you, old man!" exclaimed Peyton, one of Duer's lieutenants.
+"Boys, here's to the next Secretary of the Navy, and then, who
+knows--well, here's to Dick Ralston, the best ever--bumpers!"
+
+"Fellows," answered Ralston, "it's very good of you. It's very good of
+the President. I hope I'll do him credit, but the best any of us can do
+is the right way as each of us sees it at the moment--and no one knows
+where it may lead us. Here's to being on the level--here's to the right
+way and the _white_ way!" He started to drink off the toast when a man's
+head and shoulders arose behind Peyton, and a thick voice cried:
+
+"That for mine! Th' White Way--th' Great White Way!" and he raised a
+goblet and drained it. The men in the group laughed, and the laugh was
+echoed from several of the tables. As the fellow stumbled back into his
+seat Ralston realized suddenly that he had found his man. A red face and
+a blond mustache! The elusive Sullivan at last!
+
+For a moment our hero chatted animatedly with his friends, while taking
+note of the position of the table at which the fellow sat. As yet he
+could not see whether Sullivan had a companion, for the table was in a
+recess and behind a stand of artificial palms. Then he leaned across the
+shoulder of the man next him and caught sight of a gray silk dress and a
+rose-trimmed hat. Who the lady was it was impossible for him to
+discover, as her head was completely hidden by the paper foliage toward
+which her companion was bending. They were, apparently, by no means near
+the end of their supper, so that there was time to consider the
+situation and to decide upon a course of action. But the situation
+itself was a novel one to Ralston.
+
+Now the mere accosting of a young lady in a public restaurant is not a
+very serious matter, even if she be accompanied by a male escort, so
+long as the matter be done decently and in order. But to suddenly burst
+upon a _tete-a-tete_ couple from behind a bunch of palms, and demand
+what has been done with a young man, especially if it be nearly three in
+the morning, is somewhat different. One mistaken move, and the search
+would have to be abandoned. How was he to introduce himself to a strange
+woman and compel her to divulge information which she might have no
+intention of disclosing, and how, moreover, could this be accomplished
+in the presence of a person of the type of Mr. Sullivan? He had no claim
+on either of them. Even assuming that the bounder did not object to his
+having speech with the lady, it was unlikely that she would admit any
+intimacy with Steadman in the presence of her companion. No, he must
+speak to the girl by herself--that was clear enough. But how? Obviously,
+he could not invite her escort to step out into the next room for a few
+moments. Neither was it at all likely that she would accede to any
+request of his (carried by a waiter) either to speak to him or to get
+rid of her companion. Again he was, in the vernacular, "up against it"
+as his cabby had suggested on a previous occasion.
+
+Meantime the moments were slipping by, with Ralston trying hard to keep
+up his end of the conversation. Ten minutes more, and he had determined
+definitely that there was no course open but to trust to the girl
+herself for a solution. All he could do was to throw his hand down, face
+up, before her, and let her decide. In the event of his request being
+ignored, he must face it boldly out with both of them.
+
+Borrowing a pencil he wrote upon his visiting card: "Miss Davenport will
+place the writer under the greatest possible obligation by allowing him
+to speak to her privately upon a matter of the utmost importance. He is
+in civilian dress at the next table." Underneath his name he wrote:
+"Second Assistant Secretary of the Navy." Summoning the head waiter he
+instructed the latter to carry it to the lady behind the palm in such a
+manner that it should be unobserved by her companion.
+
+He felt instantly relieved--the relief the rider feels the moment he has
+decided to take the jump and his horse rises beneath him. He plunged
+anew into the banter going on about him. He saw, out of the corner of
+his eye, his messenger circle the room, approach the couple from the
+other side, address Mr. Sullivan, call his attention to something behind
+him, and slip the card into his companion's lap. Then the attendant
+moved on.
+
+Several moments passed. He began to feel that nothing had been
+accomplished when there came a crash of glass, the palm rocked, and the
+lady in some confusion sprang to her feet, shaking her dress. Her escort
+arose more slowly, cursing the nearest waiters in a comprehensive
+manner. The hubbub in the restaurant ceased momentarily, but quickly
+began again as the manager and his aids hurried forward to offer their
+assistance.
+
+They had hard work to appease Mr. Sullivan, however. He wanted to see
+the proprietor, and insisted loudly, although irrelevantly, that he was
+an "American gentleman." The table was righted, and the head waiter
+promised that a second supper should be instantly forthcoming, but
+Sullivan remained in a state of defiance. He insisted on seeing "Monseer
+Martin"--"my fren' Monseer Martin," and called loudly for a "garsoon" to
+take him there.
+
+Apparently the lady herself was indignant, and was not at all averse to
+having her escort see his "fren' Monseer Martin." Then, with his head
+high in air like a red harvest moon, the rampant Sullivan made his way
+toward the main door of the dining room, followed by the apologetic and
+deprecatory head waiter.
+
+As the two passed out Ralston arose.
+
+"Going?" inquired Peyton.
+
+"Not very far. I'll be right back," replied our friend.
+
+The others watched him curiously.
+
+In a moment he was behind the palm, and had sunk into Sullivan's vacant
+seat.
+
+"How d'y do, Mr. Second Assistant Secretary of the Navy?" remarked the
+young woman nonchalantly. "Glad to know you. Rather a noisy
+introduction, eh?"
+
+"I'm surprised you thought it worth while," answered Ralston. "Our
+friend has probably polished off Martin by this time, and is already on
+his way back. Then he'll be ready to polish off _me_!"
+
+"I guess you're able to take care of yourself, all right," replied the
+girl. "What is it you want?"
+
+"I don't know that it's wise for me to tell you on this short
+acquaintance."
+
+"Short? Yes. I suppose it is. But, you see, I know _you_. And if I can
+help Mr. Ralston, why I _will_."
+
+"Thank you," said Ralston. The words sounded entirely _malapropos_ and
+inadequate. "Tell me, then--tell me where to find John Steadman."
+
+Instantly the girl's whole manner changed and she drew back.
+
+"Steadman!" she exclaimed uneasily.
+
+"Yes, Steadman! John Steadman. I must find him _to-night_!"
+
+"You can't!" she cried in some agitation. "You can't. I've no business
+to tell you even that, but you _can't_."
+
+Ralston's face settled into a grim mask.
+
+"I _will_!" he answered steadily. "And you're going to help me."
+
+"I can't, Mr. Ralston. I can't. I don't know where he is."
+
+Ralston's heart fell again.
+
+"But you can _help_ me?" he asked.
+
+"I can't. I swear I can't," she replied almost hysterically, and Ralston
+could see that she was speaking the truth.
+
+"Tell me," he said, "tell me, and I'll give you anything you ask--does
+_Sullivan_ know?"
+
+As he spoke the girl's face turned pale under the electric light. She
+nodded her head slightly, while at the same moment a thick hand
+descended on Ralston's shoulder and a heavy, wine-laden voice growled in
+his ear:
+
+"Whatcher doin' in my seat?"
+
+Ralston sprang to his feet and shook off the hand.
+
+"Whatcher doin' talkin' to this lady?" inquired the other, his eyes
+blazing with anger. His voice rang loudly above the roar of
+conversation.
+
+"Miss Davenport is a friend of mine," replied Ralston as quietly as he
+could.
+
+"Frien' nothin'!" cried Sullivan. "I'll teach you to mind your own
+business." He took a step backward and began to pull off his dinner
+jacket.
+
+"Don't, Jim!" cried the girl. "Don't! Please! Please don't!"
+
+"Shut up!" snarled Sullivan. "I'll attend to you later!"
+
+There was a great uproar in the restaurant. At the same instant Sullivan
+led heavily at Ralston's head. Almost automatically, with every ounce of
+his body at the end of an arm trained into a steel rod, Ralston ducked
+and countered. His fist caught Sullivan squarely on the chin, and the
+man went down and backward like a duck shot on the wing. His head struck
+on a corner of the table, and he lay motionless.
+
+The next instant Ralston was the center of an excited, jostling crowd.
+Peyton had his arm around him and was whispering: "Get out quick, old
+man. Awfully unfortunate. Get out while there's time."
+
+"Some one ring for an ambulance!" shouted a civilian at a nearby table.
+
+"Is there a doctor here?" inquired the head waiter mechanically,
+hurrying toward the door.
+
+Ralston's head reeled. The President's latest appointee mixed up in a
+drunken brawl at a public hostelry! Worse than that, if possible, he
+had, perhaps, killed the only man who knew where Steadman could be
+found. It had all happened so quickly that he saw it like the scenes of
+a vitagraph, with little twinkles of light glinting all about. Then a
+girl's voice whispered in his ear:
+
+"Get away! You mustn't be mixed up in this. Get away while you can!"
+
+Somebody began to fling water in Sullivan's face and to rip off his
+collar. The crowd forced itself almost upon the prostrate man. "Get
+away," he heard Peyton repeating. "Don't be a fool! Think of the
+Administration!"
+
+Men were climbing upon tables to see what was going on. There was a
+deafening hubbub from the main hall, into which the crowd from the other
+room was pouring. Ralston was thinking as quickly as he could. He saw
+his whole public career shattered by a single blow. He saw Ellen's
+anxious face and heard her words: "Please find Steadman." He ground his
+teeth. The only clew to Steadman lay like a log before him, struck down
+by his own hand.
+
+Some one in the back of the room shouted: "Send for the police--a man
+has been shot!" and he heard the silly cry repeated in the outer
+corridor. Less than half a minute had passed, but to Ralston it had
+already seemed twenty, when he decided upon the only course Fate had
+left open to him.
+
+How he managed to do it he never really knew. Afterwards it appeared
+absurdly impossible, but Peyton said that at the time it seemed
+reasonable enough. There had been a moment when, in the confusion, the
+crowd had blocked its own efforts to get closer, a moment when no one
+apparently had known what to do, a moment which Ralston, in his
+businesslike and rather autocratic fashion, had turned to his own
+advantage.
+
+A hurried whisper to Peyton, and with the help of one of their brother
+officers they had raised Sullivan from the floor and, followed by the
+girl, had carried him to the Fifth Avenue entrance. "Keep back the
+crowd!" Peyton had cried to the head waiter. "We must give this man
+air," and in a moment more they had staggered with Sullivan's limp form
+to the ever-ready hansom, which had wheeled quickly to their assistance,
+and shoved him in.
+
+In another moment there had appeared around the corner of the building a
+throng of men and women in evening dress, among whom were mingled
+waiters, pedestrians, and cabmen.
+
+"To the hospital!" cried Ralston, and pushing in the girl, sprang after
+her himself. The cabman cut furiously at his horse, the bystanders
+parted, and the hansom leaped forward like a chariot in a Roman
+amphitheater, with Ralston, who had snatched the reins from above his
+head, guiding the excited animal down Fifth Avenue.
+
+A policeman made an ineffectual attempt to stop them at Twenty-third
+Street, but quickly stepped aside to avoid being run down.
+
+"Hully gee!" shouted the cabman inconsequently, "Hully gee!" while the
+girl, staring abstractedly at the motionless face beside her, murmured
+excitedly, "A clean get-away! A clean get-away!"
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+They turned west at Eighth Street and crossed Sixth Avenue at a slow
+trot. Ralston had surrendered the reins to the driver and was now
+racking his brains for a solution of his extraordinary and sensational
+predicament. The girl had taken Sullivan's motionless head into her lap.
+
+"Where to, sir?" inquired the cabby through the manhole.
+
+"I don't know," answered Ralston. "Lose us if you can, that's all. Lose
+us so we won't be able to find our own way back."
+
+They continued west, following narrow, dimly lit streets, under the
+shadow of high warehouses. Sullivan had given as yet no sign of life and
+the girl had not spoken since Twenty-third Street. The strain of the
+situation began to tell.
+
+"Well, what are we going to do now?" inquired Ralston with an attempt at
+jocularity. The girl did not reply, and as he heard her sobbing softly a
+pang of remorse touched him. What business had he to force this young
+woman into being an accessory after the fact in what might be heralded
+as a crime?
+
+"Miss Davenport," he said, "I'm awfully sorry to have dragged you into
+this. Indeed, I am. Let me drive you home. I'll look after Sullivan, and
+if necessary take him to a hospital."
+
+"And leave you to stick this out by yourself? Not on your life!" she
+replied. "It's a bad mix-up, but we've got to pull it off somehow. But
+first we've got to do something for Jim. Look, there's a drug store over
+there and a night light."
+
+"But that won't do," expostulated Ralston. "We never could explain to
+the officer on post. We'll have to go somewhere else. You know about
+these things. Where?"
+
+"Yes, yes--I know."
+
+"Well, quickly!"
+
+The cabman was peering down through the manhole.
+
+"Do you know Commerce Street?" asked the girl.
+
+"Sure I do," said the cabby.
+
+"Well, go to No. 589."
+
+The cabman jerked around his horse. They were in Greenwich Village now,
+and not far from the old New York Central freight depot. Trim little
+brick houses with white portals and tiny eves lined the streets. Slender
+lanes led away into black distances. The night was silent save for the
+rush and roar of the elevated and the clack of their own horse's hoofs.
+Not a window was agleam. In this respectable neighborhood folks went to
+bed betimes, and got up early.
+
+The cool night air soothed Ralston's nerves, but with it he felt limp
+and tired. The excitement at the restaurant, the wild dash down Fifth
+Avenue, the presence with them of a man who might perhaps be dead, the
+fear of pursuit, the extraordinary situation in which he, a man of so
+much recent prominence, found himself, the strange way in which this
+girl had become a partner in his fortunes, dazed and bewildered him.
+
+"He can't be dead," muttered Ralston. "He can't be dead!"
+
+The cab turned into a little street lined with irregularly shaped
+houses. A few gnarled and distorted trees, whose trunks burst out of the
+concrete pavement, raised their dust-laden branches, prehensile and
+unnatural, into the starlight. A hundred feet from where the street
+began it turned sharply to the left, forming a right angle, and
+debouched again into another thoroughfare. Had one of the ends of it
+been closed it would have formed a natural _cul-de-sac_--an appendix to
+one of the great canals of the city. And with curious impropriety the
+city fathers had named this "accidental" Commerce Street, leaving it to
+the imagination as to what sort of commerce had been intended. A rickety
+gas lamp leaned dangerously toward a flight of high wooden steps in the
+angle of the street. Strangely enough, when the street turned the house
+turned, too, so that half its front faced north and half east. The
+natural inference was that the inside of the house was shaped like a
+piece of pie, with its partially bitten point abutting on the corner.
+
+Ralston took charge of Sullivan and the girl sprang down and stepped
+into the area. Somewhere at a great distance a bell rang once, and then,
+more faintly, a second time. They waited in silence. On the main
+thoroughfare beyond the gnarled trees a policeman slowly sauntered
+across the street. At the top of one of the opposite houses a window was
+raised cautiously and voices could be heard whispering. Again the bell
+jangled loosely in the distance, then came the sound of iron bars
+rattling and bolts being shot back. A grating creaked rustily.
+
+"It's me--Floss. Let me in."
+
+The girl ran back to the cab and a match flared in the grating. Ralston
+thought he saw a wrinkled face behind the light.
+
+"All right. Bring him in," said the girl.
+
+Ralston and the cabman lifted the lank form of Sullivan to the sidewalk
+and half carried, half dragged him into the area. At their feet lay a
+small flight of steps upon which played a feeble light from the inside.
+Down this they pulled the victim of Ralston's strange quest. A passage
+opened before them, in the middle of which stood a tiny, wrinkled Jewish
+woman, who watched them with snapping, restless eyes, like those of a
+blackbird.
+
+The girl pushed by them and, taking the candle from the woman, opened a
+door leading to the right. The air was close and unwholesome. A bed with
+only a mattress covering the springs stood in the corner, and upon this
+Ralston and the cabman placed the still unconscious form of Mr.
+Sullivan.
+
+"That'll do for the present," said the girl. "Now you" (addressing the
+cabman) "wait outside. If the cop asks what you are doin', you're
+waiting for a fare in another house, see?"
+
+The cabman retired, and the Jewish woman lit a kerosene lamp. The girl
+disappeared and returned with a wet sponge and a bottle of ammonia. She
+now opened Sullivan's shirt and sponged his face with perfect
+confidence. Then she poured some ammonia upon the sponge and applied it
+to his nostrils. Ralston, leaning over the bed, coughed in spite of
+himself.
+
+Sullivan opened his eyes a little; the girl removed the sponge and put
+her head close to his face.
+
+"He's breathing--he'll come round all right," she said. "He stays 'out'
+an awful long time."
+
+She gave him the ammonia again and the patient gasped audibly. Ralston
+heaved a great sigh of relief. Although he had known himself to be
+absolutely in the right he was aware that this body-snatching was, to
+say the least, irregular. Had the fellow died it would have made a nasty
+story for the papers. He sank back on a horsehair rocking chair and the
+room grew black with little pricking stars. The next moment he felt the
+sponge thrust in his face.
+
+"You're almost out yourself, Mr. Ralston. I'll have a cup of coffee
+ready for you in a minute. Lie down on the sofa."
+
+Ralston indeed felt sick and faint, the lids of his eyes seemed like
+lead, pulled down by invisible but powerful strings. The man was not
+dead! But Steadman--he'd think of Steadman in a moment, after he had
+rested his eyes a little----
+
+He leaned back his head--and slept. A light touch on his forehead
+awakened him half an hour later, and he opened his eyes upon a strange
+picture. The room was stuffy and warm as ever. The lamp cast but an
+uncertain light on the walls, which, he noticed, were quite bare of
+ornament. Over the windows were heavy wooden shutters, bolted on the
+inside. On the bed lay Sullivan, breathing heavily. The floor was
+covered by a dirty rag carpet, and the only articles of furniture
+besides the bed itself were a horsehair-covered lounge, a small table,
+and two horsehair-covered chairs, and in the midst of these uncouth
+surroundings stood a girl in shimmering evening dress, her white
+shoulders shining in the lamplight, offering him a cup of hot and
+fragrant coffee.
+
+"You're a brick," said Ralston feebly.
+
+The girl smiled.
+
+"Kind of funny, ain't it? To think of you and me and him"--she pointed
+over her shoulder--"being here. What a rumpus the police'll make when
+they can't find him at any hospital. It's a queer mix-up, now, ain't
+it?"
+
+"I should say it _was_!" echoed Ralston. He gulped down the coffee. "Do
+you live here?" he asked, sweeping the room again with his eyes. The
+girl smiled.
+
+"Not generally," she said.
+
+"But this house--whose is it?"
+
+The girl shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"They've never been able to find out at the tax office," she said.
+
+"You're a good girl," said Ralston inconsequently.
+
+The smile on the girl's face changed. She started to speak. Then she
+closed her eyes and covered them with her hands.
+
+The figure in the bed gave vent to a long-drawn-out snort and tossed
+heavily. The girl dabbed her eyes with her wrists and turned with an
+anxious look.
+
+"He's waking up," she whispered. "He'll be crazy when he sees you here."
+
+"But I brought him here," said Ralston, "and it was his own fault.
+Besides, he is going to find Steadman for me."
+
+"Find Steadman for you?" she exclaimed.
+
+"Why, certainly! Why not?"
+
+The girl looked at him in amazement.
+
+"And that's why you carried him off?"
+
+"Yes--naturally--of course. What did you think?"
+
+She gave a low laugh and clapped her hands softly together.
+
+"And I thought all along it was just to get yourself out of the mess you
+were in--to avoid the publicity and all. I didn't see your game. I
+thought it was all up for you--and the best you could do was to get out
+of having to go to court! But they can't count you out, can they? My,
+you _have_ got a nerve!" she finished enthusiastically.
+
+Ralston shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I assure you it wasn't as clearly thought out as all that. It was like
+clutching at whatever was left. Sullivan's my only clew. How can I force
+a statement from this fellow? What has he done? What hold can I get on
+him?"
+
+The girl looked at him half frightened yet full of admiration.
+
+"Don't try it, Mr. Ralston," she whispered. "Give it up. You can't do
+it. It's too late. Besides, Sullivan's a dangerous man--a man who stands
+in with all the politicians--a bad fellow to threaten. He's done things
+enough, God knows, to send him to jail a dozen times--but leave him
+alone! You've done enough for Steadman. If you try to monkey with
+Sullivan _anything_ might happen to you. You mightn't leave this house
+alive. Get away before it's too late. You're probably due in Washington
+about now. This night's work will blow over, and Steadman isn't worth
+the powder to blow his brains out." She clasped her hands with a gesture
+of entreaty.
+
+"No," said Ralston. "I've begun, and I must finish the job. I mightn't
+have gone into it if I had known what it was going to cost, but it's too
+late to back out now. Besides, I've nothing to lose. I'm done for. This
+'Martin' business would kill the Administration if I didn't resign. In
+fact, the public need never know that I have accepted. Fancy! The police
+looking for the Second Assistant Secretary of the Navy as a fugitive
+from justice! Why, the papers will be full of it. But that doesn't help
+me with Steadman. I've got to force this fellow here to give up. Tell me
+something to use as a lever."
+
+The man on the bed groaned loudly and elevated one knee high in the air.
+The girl hesitated, evidently torn between various conflicting claims of
+loyalty.
+
+"Tell him," she whispered after a moment--"tell him you know all about
+Shackleton and the Mercantile bonds. If that isn't enough, say you'll
+hand him over for the Masterson deal--that'll fetch him, but be careful
+and don't get him angry. He may not know where Steadman is, after all.
+But I heard him say that the gang had almost finished trimming Steadman
+and were going to finish him up to-night--at cards I think. They've
+gotten almost every cent he has already----"
+
+Sullivan gave a harsh cough and arose to a sitting position.
+
+"Shackleton--Mercantile bonds--Masterson deal," murmured Ralston to
+himself.
+
+"Huh! That you, Floss?" grunted Sullivan. "What are we doin' here?
+Where's the old woman?"
+
+"Sh-h! It's all right, Jim," said the girl. "We made a clean get-away.
+You came near running in the lot of us."
+
+"Whatcher talking about?" mumbled Sullivan. "'Bout 'getaways'?" Then he
+caught sight of Ralston. "Who's this feller?"
+
+"All right, Mr. Sullivan, I'm a friend of yours," said Ralston quietly.
+
+Sullivan looked fixedly at him for a moment without speaking.
+
+"I've seen you before," he muttered. "Somewheres."
+
+"Sure," said Ralston with a laugh. "You tried to do me up at 'The
+Martin' not over an hour ago."
+
+Sullivan glared at him.
+
+"You that feller?"
+
+"I am."
+
+"Whatcher doin' here?"
+
+"Same thing I was going to do at 'The Martin' if you'd given me the
+chance--have a talk with you."
+
+Sullivan looked puzzled and rubbed the back of his head. He had none of
+the resplendency of his earlier appearance.
+
+"Must ha' fallen an' hit my head," said he in an explanatory manner.
+"Say, did anyone _club_ me?"
+
+"No," said Ralston. "But you got a pretty rough deal."
+
+"Say," repeated Sullivan, "how'd you come to bring me to the old
+woman's?"
+
+"I had to take you somewhere," said Ralston. There was a pause of
+several seconds, during which Sullivan endeavored to readjust himself.
+
+"What's yer name?" he inquired.
+
+"Sackett," said Ralston.
+
+"Sackett," repeated Sullivan. "I don't know Sackett. What's yer
+business?"
+
+"Oh, I'm a detective," answered Ralston lightly.
+
+Sullivan started and clutched at the mattress.
+
+"Detective!" he muttered. "What d'yer want?"
+
+"I don't want anything," said Ralston. "I know quite a lot about you,
+Mr. Sullivan, but it stays where it is. All I want is a little help."
+
+"You go to hell!" growled Sullivan.
+
+"No--no!" replied Ralston. "Not yet. I want you to tell me where I can
+find Steadman. You see, his folks are anxious, and it's worth quite a
+little to me to locate him. It needn't interfere with any of your
+plans. Besides, I imagine you're about through with him, eh?"
+
+The color returned to Sullivan's face and he snarled angrily.
+
+"None of that to me, see? I am on to you, understand? You'd better get
+out of here, while you're still able."
+
+The girl, who had remained silent, now spoke again:
+
+"Be careful, Jim; this man can make trouble for us."
+
+Sullivan looked sharply at her, but evidently nothing about her
+appearance or speech excited his suspicions.
+
+"Mr. Sullivan," continued Ralston from his seat in the horsehair rocker,
+"I don't mean you any harm. In fact, I can do you a good turn now and
+then if you'll help me out. All I want is my coin for turning up this
+chap Steadman. I know he's no good. He's anybody's money. He's nothing
+to me. But it's all in my day's work. Now, don't think me disagreeable.
+I want Steadman, you want--well, you don't want certain little incidents
+of your career to get to the ears of the district attorney--the
+Shackleton bonds, for example. Now, don't be alarmed. I haven't the
+slightest intention of giving you away, but, come now, let's be on the
+level with each other."
+
+Sullivan cast an evil look at him.
+
+"You think you've got something on me, eh? Prove it! What bonds did you
+say?"
+
+Ralston saw that he had nearly made a slip.
+
+"Quite right," said he. "I said Shackleton bonds--I was _thinking_ of
+Shackleton. Of course I meant the Mercantile bonds. But if you have any
+doubt about my sincerity I might go into the Masterson matter----"
+
+But Sullivan was on his feet, his eyes staring, and his face as pale as
+it had been on the floor of "The Martin."
+
+"For Heaven's sake!" he implored.
+
+Ralston rose.
+
+"Come! Come! Is it a bargain? You help me and I help you. Where is he?"
+
+"I'll go with you," muttered Sullivan. "Where's my coat?" He looked
+around anxiously. There was no doubt as to the effectiveness of the
+reference to the Masterson case.
+
+"Get me a coat," he ordered of the girl. Florence Davenport left the
+room, leaving the two men facing one another--the criminal and the
+gentleman. It would have been hard to say which looked the more haggard.
+The light of the dim lamp made the rings around Ralston's eyes look like
+huge horn-rimmed spectacles, and his mouth was drawn to a thin line.
+Inside his head was beginning to sing and the corners of his lids to
+twitch. He knew the symptoms. He was beginning to "fade out." But he was
+getting warm now and he paid no heed to himself.
+
+The girl returned, bringing in her arms a pile of new silk-lined black
+overcoats. Ralston remembered the incident afterwards, but at the time
+it did not impress him. It is doubtful whether he knew definitely the
+meaning of the term--"a fence."
+
+Mechanically he selected a coat to fit him and Sullivan did the same.
+The Davenport girl put on the smallest.
+
+"Gimme a hat," said Sullivan.
+
+Again the girl departed and presently returned with an odd collection of
+old felt hats of various styles. Now, fully arrayed, Sullivan felt his
+way gingerly to the door. A pale gleam filtered through the grating. The
+bolt was shot back and Ralston found himself in the fresh morning air.
+
+A white, misty light filled the sky like a diaphanous, pulsating sheet.
+If you looked for it it was gone, but as you watched the opposite houses
+you knew it to be there. Night was struggling with the day, and the
+cohorts of darkness were barely in the ascendant. The tang of the breeze
+told the story, filtering in from the river. But the lamps showed
+brighter than ever. On his box the cabman slumbered, while his steed did
+likewise in cabhorse fashion.
+
+Sullivan reached up and shook the man roughly. Across the end of the
+street heavy vans were making their way eastward, filling the little
+niche in which they stood with a deafening clatter.
+
+"Drive up Broadway," ordered Sullivan.
+
+The cabman removed his hat, ran his finger around the sweatband and
+replaced it on his head.
+
+"Hully gee!" he repeated reminiscently. Several yanks were required to
+hoist the horse into a position appropriate to locomotion, and when
+action was achieved the animal started as if walking on eggs. Sullivan
+and Ralston took Miss Davenport in her black overcoat between them.
+Ralston could not tell whether the sky above was white or blue.
+
+Slowly they dragged out into Barrow Street and turned into Green Street.
+Once or twice they passed a lonely pedestrian or a stray policeman. Soon
+they saw the lights of the elevated structure at Jefferson Market and
+caught the moving windows of the trains. A line of truck wagons was
+moving slowly southward, the drivers sleeping, unmindful of their route.
+Milk wagons jangling from Hudson Avenue added a livelier note. There was
+a smell of morning everywhere.
+
+Suddenly Ralston knew he saw white and not blue above the housetops.
+The thought filled him with a nervous anxiety to lose no time, and he
+pushed up the manhole and ordered the cabby to make haste.
+
+"What do you think I am--a bloomin' steamboat?" inquired the cabby in
+sleepy wrath.
+
+They wheeled into Sixth Avenue and Ralston noticed that the surface cars
+which passed already had some passengers. Men were standing in twos and
+threes upon the street corners. Most of them were smoking clay pipes. He
+wondered what manner of men went to work at this hour. They passed
+Fourteenth Street and found many persons walking westward--at nightfall
+they would plod back. It was a long, long way to go to work. No one had
+spoken in the cab as yet.
+
+"Funny how small the city seems at night," said the girl.
+
+Although there was a germ of psychological truth in the remark, Ralston
+could think of nothing in reply. He had often noticed the same
+phenomenon. Of an afternoon, with Fifth Avenue crowded to the curbs, the
+distance from his club to Forty-second Street appeared immense. By night
+it seemed no more than a block or two. Now, as they rode northward in
+the graying light, the distances which his mental cyclometer ticked off
+seemed small and their pace inordinately slow.
+
+Sullivan had maintained a consistent silence. The Masterson affair had
+effectually put a quietus upon his belligerency. Ralston was overwhelmed
+with sleep. There was a weight behind each of his eyeballs that seemed
+forcing them downward and outward, and the humming in the back of his
+head had returned. A faint odor of violets and rice powder emanated from
+the overcoat beside him. Now and again the small head, with its piles
+of brown hair and old slouch hat, would begin to incline gradually and
+gently in his direction, only to be raised again when the brim of the
+hat touched his shoulder. He leaned his own head in the corner and
+closed his eyes.
+
+Instantly a heavy curtain, warm, fragrant, deliciously soothing, seemed
+drawn over him. He found himself talking to Ellen in Miss Evarts's
+drawing-room. He felt again the elation of his appointment, the
+gratefulness of appreciation. The man was painting in his name on the
+blackboard--the man in the yellow-and-black sweater, and he heard the
+crowd spelling it out and repeating it. Once again he experienced the
+thrill it had occasioned him the night before. He realized anew the
+extent to which his selection had brought him into the public eye--the
+influence which the success or failure of his appointment would have
+upon the Administration.
+
+The President had been already severely criticised for giving important
+places to comparatively young and untried men--men of the silk-stocking
+class--and the President had but a doubtful hold upon the people.
+Several canards had been started which, in the face of recent
+socialistic propaganda, had made considerable headway. The yellow
+journals were denouncing the war as imperialistic, as an excuse for an
+ambitious executive to play the part of a Caesar or a Napoleon. They
+charged that he was surrounding himself with the rich and powerful, and
+their sons. He was contrasted with Lincoln and Jefferson. In a word, the
+Administration was in a ticklish position.
+
+Then upon Ralston's wearied brain flashed the picture of his meeting
+with Colonel Duer; the tawdry, tarnished environment of his search for
+the worthless Steadman; his arrival at "The Martin" at two in the
+morning; his open solicitation of a woman's acquaintance, and the
+consequent free fight in which, so far as the onlookers knew, he might
+have killed her companion; then, and most unpleasant of all, his flight,
+bearing away his victim with him. How could he explain _that_? Why, the
+thing must have been wired to every morning paper in the country. He
+could see the headlines:
+
+      ASSISTANT SECRETARY OF NAVY KILLS MAN
+
+      FIGHT AROSE OVER WOMAN IN RESTAURANT
+
+      A NEW SCANDAL FOR THE PRESIDENT TO HUSH UP
+
+He shuddered at the thought of it. If he gave himself up and declared
+that he had struck in self-defense, how could he explain having dashed
+away with the woman in a hansom? Where had he gone? _Why_ had he gone
+there? His lips were sealed. He _could_ make no statement without
+publicly avowing the whole object of his night's work--the necessity for
+finding Steadman, and Steadman's relations with Ellen. He saw column
+after column of interviews with himself, real and imaginary. The most
+sacred passages of Ellen's life would be made public property, dressed
+up to suit the editor's fancy, and sold on the corner for a penny.
+
+The possibility sickened him. There was nothing to be done but to resign
+and go away. In that way only could the Administration be relieved from
+a most embarrassing situation, and by no other means could Ellen be
+saved from the humiliation incident to a truthful explanation of the
+affair. Then, too, he must continue his search. He could not give it up
+now. He must find Steadman, even while a fugitive from justice himself.
+He _would_ find him.
+
+He opened his eyes. They were still following Sixth Avenue beneath the
+elevated tracks. It had grown brighter. Sullivan had lighted a cigar.
+Ralston found himself trembling with excitement. A sweat had broken out
+all over him. Across the way, on the opposite corner, he saw the lights
+of a telegraph office, and he raised the manhole and told the cabby to
+stop.
+
+"What's up?" inquired Sullivan, removing his cigar.
+
+"I've got to send a telegram," said Ralston unsteadily.
+
+Sullivan looked at him with suspicion.
+
+"You ain't givin' me the double cross, eh?"
+
+"I give you my word I'm not," replied Ralston. "It's only a matter of
+private business."
+
+"Guess it can wait, can't it?"
+
+Ralston smiled in spite of himself. He wished he could tell Sullivan the
+purport of this telegram which gave him so much anxiety. Simultaneously
+it occurred to him that it was undesirable to leave the cab even for a
+moment Sullivan might take it into his head to disappear.
+
+"Oh, well," he retorted, "it doesn't entirely suit my book to allow you
+a chance to side-step me either, so we'll settle it by letting Miss
+Davenport send the wire for me. In that way we can each continue in the
+other's company. Much more agreeable, of course. Miss Davenport, may I
+ask you to get me a blank from inside?"
+
+The girl sprang down and quickly returned with a sheaf of blanks and a
+pencil. Ralston scribbled on his knee a hasty message:
+
+      To the President, White House, Washington. Am forced,
+      after all, to decline appointment. See morning papers.
+      Am writing fully.
+
+      RALSTON.
+
+He handed her half a dollar and she reentered the office.
+
+Now Miss Davenport was a young person wise in her generation. She had
+seen many men in many situations, and she realized that the man who had
+handed her this particular telegram was in a condition bordering on
+collapse. Had she seen fit to use a sporting term she would have said
+that Ralston was "groggy" with nervousness and excitement. In addition
+she was not devoid of the usual amount of feminine curiosity. At any
+rate, her first move was to read the telegram.
+
+"He's crazy!" she exclaimed under her breath. "Why, he doesn't even know
+whether they got his name! And Jim's all right." She turned the message
+over in her hand.
+
+"I guess that telegram _can_ wait. There won't be anything in the
+papers. The presses are locked at one o'clock."
+
+"Say," she remarked to the sleepy operator, "what's the rate to
+Washington, D. C.?"
+
+"Twenty-five for ten words, and two cents a word over."
+
+"Change that for me, will you? Let me have some coppers?"
+
+The man fished out the small change and went back to his accounts.
+
+Miss Davenport slipped the paper into her pocket and returned to the
+cab.
+
+"Nineteen cents change," she said, handing it to Ralston.
+
+"Where to?" asked the cabby mechanically.
+
+"West Forty-fifth Street," said Sullivan.
+
+They started on. The street lamps were fast paling beneath the dawn. At
+Thirty-third Street and Broadway a newsboy was hopping on the cars and
+shouting his items. A strange thrill of determination had seized
+Ralston. The die was cast now. There was nothing more to consider.
+
+"Here's your _Morning Journal_!" cried the boy as the cab swung by. "New
+Assistant Secretary of the Navy. Twelfth Regiment starts with a full
+quota of officers!" He waved his sheets at them.
+
+Inside the cab Ralston set his teeth.
+
+"I'll make it a full quota!" he muttered.
+
+They turned down Thirty-third Street into Fifth Avenue.
+
+"Look here," said Sullivan suddenly, "all I do is to show him to you,
+see? Understand, I don't get into no mix-up myself! My job ends when I
+give you the pass."
+
+"All right," said Ralston. "Just show him to me. That's all I ask."
+
+"All right," repeated Sullivan.
+
+They passed Forty-second Street and turned into Forty-fifth, just as the
+lights in the crosstown cars had been put out.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+The house before which they stopped was an old-fashioned brownstone
+front. A brownstone flight of steps with a heavy brownstone balustrade
+and huge, carved newel post of the same depressing material led to a
+pair of ponderous stained doors tight shut with the air of finality
+possible only to a brownstone side street. The shades on the four rows
+of windows of this impenetrable mansion were smoothly drawn. At the
+grated window in the area the lower half of a bird cage, just visible
+beneath the screen, was the only indication of occupancy. The whole
+aspect of the place was that of somnolent respectability. One could
+imagine the door being swung wide, the rug shaken, the broom making a
+fictitious passage through the vestibule, the curtains going up unevenly
+in the front parlor, the shades raised in the area, the canary thrilling
+in response to the shaking of the kitchen range, and _Paterfamilias_
+coming down the steps at about eight twenty-five in a square Derby hat,
+to go to his real estate office. This is what occurs at four homes out
+of five in this locality every morning from the first day of October to
+the first day of July.
+
+But no eye within the last ten years had beheld a shade raised in this
+particular establishment. The census taker had never entered its doors.
+No woman had ever passed its threshold. No child had ever played within
+its halls. Once a year a load of wines was deposited there and once a
+month a grocer's wagon paused outside. The coal was put in during the
+summer--forty tons, C. O. D. and five per cent off. The milkman was the
+only matutinal visitor, and the milkman left his wares upon the flagging
+of the servants' entrance. At eleven o'clock a colored man emerged from
+the area and departed in the direction of Sixth Avenue with a basket
+upon his arm. In half an hour he returned. This was the chief occurrence
+of the day. At seven in the evening two hansom cabs drew up before the
+door to allow four men to enter the house--also by the area. That was
+all, except that the ice wagon stopped daily, but the colored man took
+the ice off the hooks at the door.
+
+The visitors at the house arrived in cabs between the hours of eight and
+twelve P.M., and departed between the latter hour and five in the
+morning. There are forty similar _menages_ north of Thirty-third Street
+and east of Long Acre Square.
+
+"He's in here," said Sullivan. "But I ain't goin' inside."
+
+"You're not, eh?" remarked Ralston. "Very well, we stay here together
+then until he comes out--and then you go down to headquarters with
+_me_."
+
+"Look here, Sackett," whined Sullivan, "how can I go in? They'd see me
+and know I'd sold 'em out. I can't do it. It would finish me. Don't be
+unreasonable."
+
+"Well, how do I know he's here?" asked Ralston. "Don't be unreasonable
+yourself."
+
+"Well, I _know_ he's here," said Sullivan. "I tell you what I'll do.
+I'll go into the hall, and when you're satisfied I ain't givin' you the
+double-cross, I'll slip out. Suppose I showed you Steadman, that would
+satisfy you, wouldn't it?"
+
+"It certainly would," said Ralston.
+
+Sullivan looked up and down the street and then clambered out in a
+disjointed and rheumatic fashion.
+
+"I'm sorry, Miss Davenport, I can't let you have the cab," said Ralston.
+"I shall need it--I hope."
+
+Sullivan was on the sidewalk, looking at the house.
+
+The girl suddenly seized Ralston's hand.
+
+"Mr. Ralston," she said, "be careful while you are in that house. Don't
+mention a word of what I've told you about Sullivan. They're a reckless
+lot. Watch yourself and them. Play it easy, and good luck to you. Some
+time, I hope, I'll see you again."
+
+Ralston pressed her hand.
+
+He climbed down.
+
+"Where to?" mumbled the cabby.
+
+"Stay right _here_ until I come out--if it's six hours!" directed
+Ralston.
+
+The dawn was flushing the chocolate-colored fronts before them and a
+milk wagon was working gradually down the block. Ralston felt weak in
+the knees, but he pounded his feet on the pavement and stepped quickly
+after Sullivan, who had started up the steps.
+
+"I needn't warn you that there must be no funny business, Sullivan,"
+said Ralston, as the other fumbled in his trousers pocket. "Our bargain
+holds. Your life for mine and Steadman's."
+
+"You needn't worry," replied Sullivan. "Homicide isn't in our business.
+I wish I could turn Steadman over to you bound hand and foot, but I
+can't. You've got _him_ to deal with. The rest is easy. The gang's
+pretty near through with him. But you've got to handle _him_ yourself."
+
+Sullivan inserted the key and turned the handle of the door, which swung
+open as if on greased hinges.
+
+As Ralston crossed the threshold it occurred to him forcibly that
+although the house in which he now stood was not over three blocks from
+his lodgings, and that his round-the-clock chase had brought him, like a
+man lost in the woods, back almost to his starting point, the fact that
+he had actually struck Steadman's trail at all, to say nothing of having
+run him to earth, was in itself no less than a miracle. Fate had
+certainly favored him upon the one hand, if it had dashed his hopes upon
+the other. He was the same Ralston that had jumped into the same cab
+just around the corner some seven hours before, but in that short
+passage of time the current of his existence had gone swirling off in an
+entirely unexpected direction. The hopes and ambitions of the evening
+had faded to fair dreams lingering on after a disappointing awakening.
+Apart from his utter exhaustion a pall had fallen upon his spirit--he
+had become undervitalized physically and psychically. He did not care
+what might happen before he regained the street, and he knew that almost
+anything might happen. The gamblers had been in an ugly mood for a long
+time. Yet he knew that his hold on Sullivan, fictitious as it was, was
+for the time being a sure one. Moreover, the experiences of the night
+had not lessened his confidence in his capacity to handle any new
+situation as it might arise.
+
+Sullivan now addressed himself to the inner door, which opened as easily
+as its predecessor, and an old-fashioned hall disclosed itself before
+them. On the right a pair of heavy _portieres_ concealed the entrance to
+what was, or at least some time had been, the drawing-room. The usual
+steep flight of carpeted walnut stairs ascended to the usual narrow
+hallway on the second floor. A massive walnut hatrack supported a huge
+mirror and a collection of Inverness coats and tall hats. A bronze gas
+chandelier burned brightly, and a colored man lay extended at full
+length upon the floor with his head resting upon the bottom stair. The
+air was close and heavy and filled with the thin blue smoke of distant
+cigars. Apart from the audible repose of the negro the house was as
+silent as a New England Sabbath morning.
+
+Sullivan strode toward the recumbent figure upon the floor and
+administered a stout kick, at which the sleeper suddenly raised his head
+and drew up his knees.
+
+"Here you, Marcus, wake up!" growled Sullivan. "Where's Mr. Farrer?"
+
+The negro rubbed his eyes and gazed stupidly at the two figures before
+him without replying.
+
+"Where's Mr. Farrer?" repeated Sullivan.
+
+Marcus pointed over his shoulders and up the stairs.
+
+"He's in de back room, boss."
+
+"Who's up there?"
+
+"Jes' a single game--five gen'lemen."
+
+"How long they been playin'?"
+
+"Couple days, Ah reckon."
+
+"How long have you been asleep?"
+
+"Couple days, Ah reckon, boss," repeated Marcus.
+
+"Is Mr. Steadman up there?"
+
+"He de gen'leman they calls Mr. X?" asked Marcus with more interest.
+
+"I think so," answered Sullivan.
+
+"Yes, sir, he's up dere. Say, boss, what day is this?" asked Marcus.
+"Sunday, ain't it? We began playin' Satudy, but Ah reckon Ah done got
+'fused 'bout de time."
+
+But Sullivan did not reply. Instead he turned to Ralston and said:
+
+"Look here, I don't see any way out of my having to introduce you to the
+game. After I've done that you'll have to manage the thing for
+yourself."
+
+He started laboriously upstairs. Marcus returned to his previous picture
+of elegant repose. At the top of the first flight they turned and,
+passing along the hall, ascended another. The smoke grew thicker as they
+progressed. The only light came from the gas brackets, for the skylight
+over the wall was draped with a sheet of black cloth. At the top of the
+second flight Ralston caught the faint click of chips.
+
+"It's up to you," said Sullivan, "if you want to go in."
+
+"I'll take the responsibility," answered Ralston, but his heart began to
+beat faster, a phenomenon he attributed to the fact that there was no
+elevator.
+
+At the top of the last flight they paused. The sound of chips and low
+voices came distinctly from beneath the door of the room in the back.
+Then followed a pause, during which some one cursed his luck loudly.
+
+Sullivan pushed open the door and Ralston entered at his elbow. At first
+he could see nothing, owing to the thick haze that hung like a cloud
+throughout the room. Then he made out the figures of five men in their
+shirt-sleeves seated at a medium-sized table. These started to their
+feet at the interruption, and one of them, larger than the others, cried
+out:
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+"It's only me--little, tiny me," said Sullivan with a laugh. "I've
+brought a new come-on that thinks he knows the game. Can you let him sit
+in?"
+
+Ralston was watching Sullivan narrowly for the first sign of betrayal,
+but it was clear that Sullivan was living up to his bargain.
+
+A drawling voice came from the table. "Five's the gambler's game--we're
+nearly through, anyhow."
+
+The tall man hesitated.
+
+"We're nearly through, as Mr. X says," he remarked, not impolitely.
+"It's quite late. Of course, if you're a friend of Sullivan's----"
+
+"Oh, let me take a stack. I've made a night of it and I want to get my
+bait back. I guess I've still got the price," said Ralston. He pulled a
+roll of bills from his pocket.
+
+"Well," said the other, "gamblers' rules. This is an open game. I'm
+afraid he's entitled to come in. Goin', Sullivan? Well, so-long. Close
+the door after you."
+
+"So-long, Sackett," said Sullivan.
+
+"Good-by!" said Ralston, with emphasis. "We're quits, aren't we?"
+
+"Sure," replied Sullivan.
+
+"Let me present you to the company," said the tall man. "My name's
+Farrer. I guess you've heard of me. These are my friends, Messrs. Brown,
+Jones, and Robinson, and Mr. X. Your own name is Mr. ----?"
+
+"Sackett," said Ralston.
+
+"All right, Mr. Sackett. We were just about goin' to pull out, but we'll
+hold the game open for you for a few minutes, just to give the boys a
+chance to even up. No, we're not playing dollar limit. The lid's off.
+But just out of respect for the cloth we don't go above a thousand at
+one clip. Take a full stack? Amounts to exactly forty-nine hundred and
+seventy-five. Brown, a thousand; yellow, five hundred; blue, one
+hundred; red, fifty; white, twenty-five and the blind."
+
+"Thank you," said Ralston, with a slight leap of the heart, as Farrer
+pushed over the little pile of ivory counters. "If you don't object I'll
+take off my overcoat for luck."
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+Ralston removed his dress coat and seized the opportunity for a rapid
+glance around the room. Farrer had retaken his seat and the others were
+moving over to make room for an extra chair. The curtains, tightly
+drawn, repelled the eddying smoke, which slowly drew toward the
+fireplace.
+
+Ralston had no time to study the men about him. He had recognized
+Steadman immediately, but it was apparent that Steadman himself was in
+no condition to recognize anybody. The boy sat limply in his chair with
+his head down and his eyes rolled toward the ceiling, apparently
+incapable of speech or action, yet suddenly returning to life and to
+complete lucidity at irregular intervals. Farrer he knew by reputation.
+The other three men were probably professional card sharps masquerading
+under the guise of men about town. Of what he should eventually do
+Ralston had no clear idea. It was obvious that the gang were not yet
+through with Steadman, and, moreover, that until Steadman wanted to go
+away he would stay where he was. He must fight for time and await his
+opportunity.
+
+Farrer sat with his back to the door, the two chairs to his left being
+occupied by the gentlemen introduced as "Brown" and "Jones." Next to
+them and facing Farrer came Steadman, with "Robinson" between him and
+Ralston, who sat immediately to the right of Farrer and filled the last
+seat. He thus had one of the most advantageous places at the table.
+
+"Deal out," said Farrer to the man on his left. "It's getting late. Ante
+up, boys. I have a hunch that something is coming my way this time."
+
+The dealer dealt rapidly round, using, Ralston was particular to notice,
+the same cards which had been laid on the table when he entered. It was
+clear that a pack "stacked" for five could not be used for six, and
+Ralston, picking up his hand and finding he had three jacks pat, pushed
+in his white chip.
+
+"I'll draw cards," said he quietly. All came in except Steadman, who
+threw his cards down upon the table with an oath.
+
+The dealer handed the remaining two men three cards each, Ralston took
+one, Farrer three, and the dealer one. Although our novice did not
+improve his hand, he raised a fifty-dollar bet made by the man upon his
+right by a blue chip. Farrer dropped out and the dealer raised Ralston
+another blue. The other two men dropped, and Ralston "saw" the dealer,
+who threw down a busted flush.
+
+"Good work, old man!" exclaimed Farrer. "You're no sucker. Deal for Mr.
+X, there, Robinson."
+
+"I can deal for myself, thanks," remarked Steadman, and indeed he
+managed to do so surprisingly well.
+
+This time Ralston held nothing and declined to play, while Steadman won
+a small amount with two large pair. Each man had lying before him a pile
+of greenbacks held in place by a heavy paper weight of brass surmounted
+by an ash receiver, Steadman's pile being composed almost entirely of
+one-thousand-dollar bills.
+
+Presently Ralston found himself holding three queens on the deal and
+filled on the draw with a pair of nines. The cards had been running
+low, and he had already won in the neighborhood of twelve or thirteen
+hundred dollars. The three queens following his three jacks struck him
+as rather a coincidence, and betting merely a white chip he watched the
+others to see what would happen. To his surprise all dropped out but
+Steadman, who had drawn but a single card and who raised him a blue
+chip. Ralston now raised in his turn a like amount, and Steadman, there
+now being nearly five hundred dollars on the table, raised him a yellow.
+But Ralston, feeling confident of his position, pushed in a brown--the
+first thousand-dollar bet he had ever made. The gamblers were watching
+them with interest.
+
+"I win," said Steadman, shoving over a brown chip and throwing down a
+flush. "All sky blue."
+
+"Sorry," answered Ralston, "three ladies and a little pair."
+
+"Curse the luck," growled Steadman. "One more hand and I quit."
+
+"Quit?" cried one of the men. "Why, the game's young yet. Nobody's won
+or lost anything to speak of. Don't go _now_! Mr. Sackett wants to play
+and he's got a lot of our money. We're entitled to our revenge."
+
+"I didn't ask him to play," mumbled Steadman. "I'm sick of the game and
+I don't feel just right. I feel sort of sick. I'm only goin' to play one
+more hand."
+
+"All right! Jack pot!" cried Farrer cheerfully. "It's a house rule. Jack
+pots on all full houses containing the royal family. A 'palace pot' we
+call it. Give us a new pack."
+
+One of the men leaned back and reached down a new unopened pack from a
+side table. The cards they had been playing with were red. These were
+blue and the revenue stamp was unbroken. But a new pack on a
+declaration that the game was going to end struck Ralston as curiously
+unnecessary. The air in the room was beginning to make his head swim,
+and a glance at his watch disclosed that it was half after five. It was
+time for him to get Steadman away, but how to do it?
+
+"Hundred-dollar ante," said Farrer, shuffling the cards ostentatiously
+and dealing himself a jack. They each put in a blue. Steadman was
+helplessly fumbling his chips, counting and recounting them. Silence
+fell upon the table as Farrer tossed the cards accurately to each
+player.
+
+As the last cards were being dealt Steadman's fifth card struck his
+glass, balanced, and fell slowly over. It was a deuce of hearts.
+
+"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Farrer apologetically.
+
+"Hang you!" escaped from one of the others, and Ralston saw that the
+man's hands were trembling.
+
+"I won't take that card," said Steadman, awaking suddenly as out of a
+trance. "It's no good. Gimme another!"
+
+Farrer flushed.
+
+"I'm sorry, you'll have to take it. It's on the deal, not the draw. The
+rule is as old as the game."
+
+"I say I won't take it," snarled Steadman. "I haven't seen my hand. I
+won't take it. I'll stay out, but I won't pick up that card--it's no
+good." He gave a silly laugh.
+
+One of the other men sprang to his feet.
+
+"You've got to take it," he cried. "You can't refuse it. You've got to
+abide by the rules."
+
+"Sit down, you fool!" shouted Farrer, almost losing control of himself.
+"Who's running this game? Mr. Steadman can't have another card. He can
+look at his hand, and if he wants to stay out he can, but he's got to
+play the cards he's got. Pick up your hand, old man. Don't let's get
+upset over a little thing like that. Why, it may be the very card you
+want."
+
+But Steadman's obstinacy was aroused.
+
+"I won't do either," said he. "_You_ can't make me play. I can stay out,
+can't I? I can forfeit my ante. That's my own business, ain't it? Well,
+I'll watch you fellers play for once. What's a blue chip!"
+
+"You fool!" broke in one of the others. "Why don't you look at your
+cards? Don't throw away a hundred dollars like that! Here, if you're so
+proud, I'll look at 'em for you--and stay out."
+
+He reached for the cards, but Steadman struck his hand away.
+
+"Touch those cards if you dare!" he shouted, his eyes glaring. "Leave my
+cards alone!"
+
+"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" exclaimed Farrer soothingly. "Of course, Mr. X
+can refuse to play if he likes. It's his privilege. Won't you change
+your mind? Well, take out your chip--nobody objects. Count it a dead
+hand."
+
+"My chip stays in and I stay out," muttered Steadman.
+
+Ralston saw a furtive look pass between two of the others. Farrer dealt
+the remaining cards and picked up his hand, grunting as he looked at his
+cards. The man next him swore softly.
+
+"I can't open it," he growled.
+
+"Nothin' doin'," said the second gambler.
+
+Steadman remained staring at his deuce of hearts.
+
+"By me!" remarked the third gambler. Then Ralston picked up his hand.
+He felt as he used to feel when under the student lamp in his college
+room he had calculated the chances of filling a bobtail straight as
+against a four flush. The others were watching him eagerly. Four jacks
+closely backed one another in his hand. He could hardly suppress a grin.
+
+"Ye-es, I'll open it," he remarked hesitantly. He toyed with the yellows
+and the browns. Then his fingers slipped across the pile. "I'll let you
+all in easy," he said affably, "for a little white seed."
+
+The gambler across the table bit his lip.
+
+"Well, I'm in!" exclaimed Farrer with an affectation of
+light-heartedness. "It's just about my limit."
+
+The other three pushed in their chips without comment. Each of them took
+one card. Ralston took one. Farrer took four.
+
+"Ah!" sighed the latter, half to himself.
+
+"Well, this looks pretty good to me," said the first gambler with a
+slight smile, pushing in a brown chip.
+
+The second gambler pursed up his lips and shrugged his shoulders. "Suits
+me, too," he remarked good-naturedly, "I'll up you a thousand."
+
+He contributed two brown chips with great deliberation. Steadman was
+giggling foolishly.
+
+"Where would I have been?" he gibbered. "The tall grass wouldn't have
+hidden me."
+
+The third gambler now came into the game. It appeared that he, also,
+thought highly of his hand, for he raised both his comrades by a brown
+chip.
+
+"One, two--and back again!" he murmured. "I've got you pinched. Only six
+thousand in the pot--and four aces will take it all! Come right in, Mr.
+Sackett, the water's warm." They watched him covetously.
+
+"Oh, I don't know," answered Ralston with deliberation. "I have one or
+two cards myself. They look pretty good to _me_! But then I'm not used
+to the game. I wonder if you'd stand a raise." He picked up four brown
+chips and counted them slowly. They eyed him, hardly breathing. Then
+Ralston laid the chips back on the table.
+
+"No," said he regretfully. "It's too high for me. Here are my openers,"
+and he threw down his hand face upward on the table.
+
+"Four j-jacks!" stammered Steadman, rubbing his eyes. "Four j-jacks!"
+
+The others, with the exception of Farrer, had arisen and stood glowering
+at Ralston.
+
+"What's this?" exclaimed Farrer harshly.
+
+"What's your game?" cried another.
+
+"Nothing, gentlemen. I lie down. That's all. It's my privilege."
+
+The gambler ground his teeth and placed his cards on the table.
+
+"Aren't you going to finish the game?" asked Ralston with elaborate
+sarcasm.
+
+"Of course we are," shot back Farrer. "Only to see a man do a damn fool
+thing like that is enough to bust up any game." He looked at his cards.
+
+"I'm out," he added shortly.
+
+The first gambler did not seem to regard his hand any longer with favor,
+for he "dropped" immediately. So also did the second, and the third drew
+the chips toward him, no cards having been disclosed.
+
+Steadman was still giggling feebly.
+
+"I say," he mumbled again, "you _are_ easy! Four jacks! O my! O----"
+
+"Do you think so?" inquired Ralston politely, as he reached quickly
+across the table and, picking up the first gambler's hand, turned it
+over. The man grabbed for the cards, but he was an instant too late.
+Four aces lay under the gaslight.
+
+"Not so easy, eh?" continued Ralston. "Pretty good judgment, it seems to
+me. I'll have my ante back, if you please," and he replaced one of the
+blue chips on his own pile. "It requires more nerve to lay down four
+aces than four jacks."
+
+The men stared at him without speaking, and Farrer arose abruptly.
+
+"I supposed I was in a respectable game," he announced with severity.
+"If you gentlemen," turning to Ralston and Steadman, "will step
+downstairs I will adjust matters with you. As for you," addressing the
+other three, "make yourselves scarce and never come into my house
+again." They moved slowly toward the door.
+
+"Don't worry on our account, Mr. Farrer," remarked Ralston suavely. "I'm
+sure the matter was merely a coincidence. Seeing a man lie down on four
+jacks is enough to account for any apparent little irregularity." But,
+before he had finished, the three, closely followed by Farrer, had
+departed. Then Ralston looked over to where Steadman was sitting with a
+smile of utter lassitude.
+
+"We were well out of that, I fancy," said he.
+
+"I wonder what _I_ had?" answered Steadman dreamily. He fumbled
+unsteadily for his hand and turned it over card by card.
+
+The first was a deuce of spades.
+
+"Oh!" he remarked, "a pair of 'em, anyhow."
+
+The next was a deuce of diamonds, and the last a deuce of clubs.
+
+Steadman looked stupidly around the table.
+
+"Four little twos!" he muttered. "And _you_ had four knaves and he had
+four aces. I guess there's a special Providence looking out for _me_.
+Say, what won that pot, anyway?"
+
+Farrer suddenly reappeared at the door.
+
+"Here's your money, gentlemen," he remarked, counting the chips in front
+of each of them and throwing down the appropriate number of bills.
+"Sorry to have the game broken up in such a way, but these sharps get in
+everywhere. I hope you won't mention the incident. I have a very fine
+line of patrons and nothing of the kind has ever occurred before."
+
+As he turned away Steadman raised his eyes and looked the gambler full
+in the face.
+
+"Farrer," said he, "you've robbed me--you and your gang. Some time I'll
+make you pay for it, you--thief!" Then the fire died as suddenly as it
+had come, his head dropped forward listlessly, his eyes rolled
+ceiling-ward, and he fell to mumbling and muttering to himself. Ralston
+sprang to his side, as Farrer slid through the door.
+
+"I'm Dick Ralston," he said. "Don't you recognize me?"
+
+Steadman gazed at him stolidly.
+
+"Rals'on?" he muttered. "Rals'on? So you are! I guess you are. Why not?
+What of it?"
+
+He put his head on his arms and leaned them against the table top.
+
+Ralston grasped him by the shoulder and shook him roughly.
+
+"Pull yourself together!" he cried. "You must get out of here quickly."
+He shook Steadman again.
+
+"Don't you understand?" he said sharply. "Your regiment leaves in an
+hour. _Your regiment!_ Your company!"
+
+Steadman looked at him dully. A burned-out cigarette hung from his under
+lip by its own cohesive ability.
+
+"Rats!" he muttered. "I've chucked all that. Regiment can go for all of
+me unless it wants to wait."
+
+"You fool!" shouted Ralston. "Don't you see it's the end of you if you
+don't go!"
+
+"The end's come already! I'm a dead one now!"
+
+"Get up there!" returned Ralston. "I'll put you at the head of your
+company in forty minutes. Get up, I say."
+
+"Don't be an ass, Rals'on!" snarled Steadman. "I'll do as I choose. I
+tell you it's too late!"
+
+"It's nothing of the kind. Why, man, your uniform's all ready for you.
+They haven't started yet. Buck up!"
+
+"You seem awful interested, it strikes me."
+
+"Never mind that. Just be thankful some one cared enough to give you the
+tip. Come on now."
+
+"I tell you it's too late. How the hell can I go--to _war_?" Steadman
+laughed in a sickly fashion.
+
+Ralston's heart sank and his gorge rose. Had he sacrificed his future
+for a cad like this? And was he going to fail besides?
+
+"You miserable snipe!" he cried, for an instant utterly losing control
+of himself.
+
+"You shan't--insult me!" chattered Steadman, rising unsteadily to his
+feet. In a flash Ralston perceived the possibilities of the situation.
+
+"You're a coward, Steadman!" he cried. "A welcher!"
+
+Steadman's eyes glared wildly. "I'll kill you for that!" he gasped.
+
+"Come on down and fight it out then, if you're a man," sneered Ralston,
+turning and making for the head of the stairs. Steadman groped his way
+after him along the wall.
+
+"Come on, you welcher!" taunted Ralston.
+
+With an inarticulate cry of anger, Steadman clasped the banisters and
+half slid, half stumbled to the entrance hall.
+
+"I'll fight you here!" he cried. "I'll kill you!"
+
+"No! No!" answered Ralston. "Outside."
+
+Marcus attempted to put on Steadman's coat, but the latter fought him
+angrily off. Then he staggered and nearly fell.
+
+"Oh, I'm sick!" he cried. "I can't see."
+
+"Catch him!" directed Ralston, springing to his side and guiding him
+across the threshold. They led him down the steps, hustled him across
+the sidewalk and into the hansom.
+
+"Where to?" inquired cabby automatically.
+
+"John McCullough's--drive like mad!" replied Ralston.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+"Keep away from me," muttered Steadman, as Ralston climbed into the cab
+beside him. "Keep away, or I'll kill you." His face had turned a livid
+yellow, and he lay limp against the cushions. The cabby started his
+horse round the corner into the avenue.
+
+"Steadman!" cried Ralston, sick at heart. "Steadman, old man! I
+apologize! I beg your pardon! Do you understand? I _apologize_. It was
+just a trick to get you out--away."
+
+"Ugh!" groaned the other.
+
+"Brace up! You'll be all right in a minute. All right--in a minute.
+Understand? Fit as a preacher!"
+
+"I don't know. I'm awfully sick!"
+
+They raced down the avenue in silence until, with a sharp turn, the
+hansom dashed into East Twenty-seventh Street and stopped with a lurch
+in front of a low red-brick house close to the corner.
+
+The clock on the corner church showed that he had less than an hour and
+a half as Ralston rushed to the steps and rang the bell. The door was
+almost instantly opened by a heavily built man with a pleasant Irish
+face.
+
+"Hello, Mr. Ralston!" he ejaculated.
+
+"Sh!" answered the other. "Get this man out quick and into the house.
+You've got to knock him into shape inside of ten minutes. He's at the
+end of a long one. Ten minutes, do you understand?"
+
+"Leave him to me," answered the matter-of-fact McCullough, then crossing
+to the cab, "Give me your arm, sir," he said to Steadman.
+
+"Leave me alone!" muttered Steadman.
+
+Without another word the Irishman put his arms around him, and, as if he
+were a child, lifted him to the ground, across the sidewalk, and into
+the house.
+
+Ralston followed and closed the door. Outside, the cabby fell asleep
+again and the horse stood with one hip six inches higher than the other
+and its head between its legs.
+
+"Hi there, Terry! Sthrip off the gent's clothes!"
+
+Another husky Irishman appeared from somewhere, and the two led Steadman
+into a sort of dressing room, where they speedily relieved him of his
+garments. Without a pause McCullough opened a glass door into a tiled
+passage at the end of which could be seen another door clouded with
+steam. First, however, he poured a teaspoonful of absinthe into the palm
+of his hand and held it to Steadman's face. "Snuff it up yer nose!" said
+he.
+
+Steadman seemed dazed. Like a half-resuscitated man he did as he was
+told, gagging and coughing.
+
+"Come here now," said Terry.
+
+Steadman walked quietly down the passage.
+
+"Only for a minute," said the bath man.
+
+He opened the door and shoved Steadman in, closing and locking it behind
+him.
+
+"That's all he needs," commented McCullough.
+
+"How long will you give him?"
+
+"Just five minutes. He didn't like the absinthe, did he?"
+
+Ralston laughed softly. He knew what twentieth century miracles
+McCullough could work.
+
+"Have you got a telephone?" he inquired.
+
+"Shure," answered Mac, leading the way to the office.
+
+Ralston lost no time in calling up the armory.
+
+"I want Clarence. Send him to the 'phone!"
+
+A wait of a couple of minutes followed.
+
+"Is that you, Clarence?"
+
+"Yassah."
+
+"Jump on a car and bring Mr. Steadman's uniform and valise to ---- East
+Twenty-seventh Street at once."
+
+When he returned to the passage Steadman was beating feebly on the glass
+door from the inside. Terry grinned and shook his head, holding up two
+fingers. The tortured one threw himself in agony into a steamer chair,
+only to leap instantly to his feet with an inaudible yell of pain.
+
+"Are you ready?" Terry inquired of his employer.
+
+"Shure."
+
+They threw open the door and each grabbed an arm of their victim,
+dragging him down the passage into the dressing room. Another door
+opened into a room in which was a large tank. Without ceremony the two
+Irishmen swung their glistening patient off the edge and into the water.
+Steadman shrieked, choked and splashed helplessly.
+
+"Down wit' him!" cried McCullough, and they forced him beneath the
+surface.
+
+"Ag'in!"
+
+Down he went.
+
+"Now up!" and they lifted him bodily up on to the floor once more, and
+yanked him streaming into the dressing room. Steadman's face was a
+bright red, but he walked to a corner, while the two Irishmen with two
+little towels gently blotted the water from his back, sides, and arms.
+His legs they left to take care of themselves.
+
+"Ready there!" cried McCullough, giving Steadman a sharp blow that sent
+him staggering across the room.
+
+"Back again!" yelled Terry, punching his victim in the chest with his
+open hand and sending him reeling toward McCullough.
+
+Then they threw themselves upon him, slapping him, banging him from side
+to side, pulling his ears, arms and nose until he holloed for mercy,
+tossing him from one to the other, and swinging him at full length by
+his hands and feet. Finally, they flung him helpless, red and gasping
+for breath, upon a table. Once more they slapped him until he glowed
+like a lobster, and then rubbed him down with alcohol.
+
+"On with his clothes!" shouted Ralston. "How do you feel, Jack, old
+man?"
+
+"All right!" replied Steadman weakly, with a grin. "How they murdered
+me!"
+
+At this moment the street bell rang and a middle-aged negro appeared
+with a valise, tin box, and chamois-covered sword.
+
+"Why, it's old Clarence!" ejaculated Steadman.
+
+The negro undid the valise and took out the olive-drab khaki field
+uniform. In a trice he had buckled and buttoned the delinquent officer
+into it. From the tin box came a campaign hat. Steadman fastened on the
+sword himself. There were tears of feeble excitement in his eyes.
+
+"Are you sure it's not too late?" he asked anxiously.
+
+"I've taken my oath to get you there," answered Ralston.
+
+"By George! You're a good fellow!" repeated Steadman. He held out his
+hand. "You've saved my reputation--I might almost say--my life."
+
+Ralston took the hand held out to him, the hand only a few moments
+before raised against him in anger. It was quite warm. McCullough had
+done his bit well.
+
+"You weren't yourself. You didn't realize--" he began, and stopped. The
+room swam before his eyes, and he groped for a chair. With the partial
+accomplishment of his object, and the consequent physical and mental
+relaxation, the fatigue of the pursuit and the nervous strain which he
+had been under took possession of him. He found the chair and sank into
+it, shutting out the light with his hand. Steadman called McCullough,
+who quickly brought him something to drink. Somewhat revived, Ralston
+staggered to his feet eager to escape from the warmth of the overheated
+room and to finish his task.
+
+"Come along, Steadman. We haven't much time. Less than an hour."
+
+"Poor old chap, you're done up!"
+
+"No, no; I'm all right. We must be getting along."
+
+"But we don't leave, you say, until seven!"
+
+"I know, but we must be getting along."
+
+"Where?"
+
+Ralston hesitated.
+
+"I'll tell you outside." He shuffled toward the door. Steadman followed.
+
+On the steps he turned toward Ralston inquiringly.
+
+"Ellen has been waiting," said the latter in a low voice, looking away.
+
+"What do you mean? Does she know?" asked Steadman in a whisper.
+
+"I don't know how much," replied Ralston. "She feared you were going to
+lose your chance--that you'd be done for, and asked me to try and look
+you up. She--she cares for you, I think."
+
+Steadman uttered a groan.
+
+"Oh, I'm a brute," he muttered.
+
+He looked anything but a brute in his olive-drab uniform, campaign hat
+and shining sword.
+
+"Come along," said Ralston, grabbing him by the arm. They took their
+seats in the hansom.
+
+"Where to?" asked the cabby monotonously.
+
+"The Chilsworth," said Ralston.
+
+Once more the exhausted animal climbed wearily up Fifth Avenue. A touch
+of yellow sunlight was just gilding the housetops on the left, and the
+street stretched gray and solitary northward.
+
+"You say she's waiting?" Steadman asked nervously.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"For how long?"
+
+"All night."
+
+Steadman shuddered.
+
+"How did you know where to look for me?"
+
+"I didn't."
+
+Ralston was beginning to feel the revivifying effects of the whisky and
+soda and the fresh morning air.
+
+"''Twas like looking for a needle in haystack,'" he hummed. "'Although
+the chance of finding it was small.' Not an easy job, my friend."
+
+"But I didn't know you were in New York!"
+
+"I'd only been back a few days."
+
+"And Ellen asked you to hunt me up?"
+
+"Ye-es."
+
+Again Ralston felt weary, awfully weary, and sleepy.
+
+"By George, you're a brick!"
+
+"Oh, don't mention it!" yawned this "finder of lost persons."
+
+"But why should you? You hardly knew me!"
+
+"Somebody had to do it."
+
+"And that somebody had to know _how_, eh?"
+
+"It would appear so. You'd concealed yourself pretty effectually for
+some time. Your friend the colonel was getting anxious, you know."
+
+"How on earth did you ever do it?"
+
+"Tell you some time," answered Ralston sleepily. "By the way, do you
+mind saying how long you'd been in that house?"
+
+"Three days."
+
+"And lost----?"
+
+"Twenty-seven thousand dollars."
+
+"No one seemed to know you gambled."
+
+"I don't. It was my first experience."
+
+"How long has this little expedition lasted?"
+
+"Two weeks."
+
+The Searcher glanced at his companion. Already the stimulus of the bath
+had succumbed to fatigue. The face was drawn and hollow; the eyes red;
+the mouth twitched. Ralston turned away, his old loathing and disgust
+returning in an instant.
+
+The driver turned into Fifty-seventh Street, and the sun jumped above
+the housetops. Suddenly Steadman burst into tears, sobbing in long-drawn
+hollow sobs like a wearied child, covering his face with his hands.
+
+"Come, come, buck up! This won't do!" exclaimed Ralston.
+
+"O God!" groaned Steadman tremulously. "I can't face her. Turn around!
+Anywhere!"
+
+"You shall see her!" answered the other. "And now!"
+
+Steadman wiped his eyes. His chest heaved convulsively. He had grown
+quite pale.
+
+"Don't make me!" he gasped.
+
+"You shall see her--as you are," repeated Ralston, "and thank her for
+having saved you from disgrace."
+
+Steadman said nothing more. The cab drew up before the door of an
+apartment house.
+
+"Here we are," said Ralston. "Get out!"
+
+Steadman hesitated.
+
+"Get out! Do you hear?" shouted Ralston, with anger in his eyes.
+
+Steadman obeyed, his companion following close behind him. Inside, a
+darky sat fast asleep by the elevator. Ralston rapped loudly upon the
+glass and the man moved, rubbed his eyes, and came stupidly to the door.
+
+"Take this gentleman up to Miss Ferguson's apartment," said Ralston.
+"I'll wait below for you. You can have just ten minutes, understand?"
+
+He returned to the sidewalk. The cabby had fallen asleep again. A
+feeling of intense loneliness swept over him. He longed to throw himself
+inside the hansom and rest his exhausted frame. His bones ached and his
+muscles seemed strange and raspy, and he kept himself awake by walking
+nervously backward and forward before the house. He could hardly keep
+his eyes from closing and his knees trembled as if he were convalescing
+from an illness.
+
+"I did it!" he repeated over and over to himself. "By George! I did
+it!--saved him for her. Only for me and he would be what he called
+himself--'a dead one.'"
+
+The sunlight in the street grew momentarily brighter. Milk wagons groped
+their way from door to door, the horses stopping undirected at the
+proper places, and starting up again in response to uncouth roars from
+the drivers.
+
+An elevated train rattled by at the end of the street, and some workmen
+in overalls, conversing loudly in a foreign dialect, hurried noisily
+past. A few maids unchained front doors, gave the rugs feeble flaps, and
+eyed Ralston curiously before going inside to resume their domestic
+duties.
+
+He found that he was walking in a circle. His brain had fallen asleep.
+He realized that he had been dreaming, but the dream was vague and
+indistinct. Then he heard the faint sound of distant music. A housemaid
+dropped her rug and ran toward the avenue. Two pedestrians turned back
+in the same direction. A driver jumped into his milk wagon and sent the
+horse galloping.
+
+Ralston listened. Yes, the music was getting louder. They were playing
+"Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by!" It must be the regiment on their way
+from the armory to the ferry. He looked at his watch with a lump in his
+throat. It was "good-by" for him as well as for Steadman. There was no
+longer any doubt. Perhaps he could get a commission. He'd go away,
+anyhow.
+
+A hastily formed group of spectators on the corner began to wave their
+hats. The band was very near. A squad of figures stepping briskly in
+time came into view, at their head the erect form of Colonel Duer. He
+could recognize the other members of the staff, the adjutant, the
+commissary, the quartermaster, the doctor--he knew them all. On the left
+trudged the chaplain.
+
+"Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by!"
+
+The drum major following the staff turned and swung his baton, then
+resumed his former position. By George, they were playing well! Ah! What
+a difference it made when it was real business. Just behind the band
+followed the field music, with old "Davie" carrying the drum.
+
+"Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by!"
+
+The drums passed and the fifers. Then at a little distance came the
+lieutenant colonel and his staff at the head of the first battalion,
+marching full company front down the avenue. Ralston's heart beat
+faster. That was where _he_ could have been. How well those boys
+marched; just like a parade, their yellow legs eating up--eating
+up--eating up--eating up the ground. The band had grown fainter. You
+could hear the chupp--chupp--chupp--chupp of the hundreds of feet. Eyes
+front! No one to look at them, but eyes front! This was business. How
+trim they looked, each man in his olive-drab uniform, leggings, and
+russet shoes. How set were the faces beneath the gray felt hats! How
+lightly they bore their heavy load of haversack, yellow blanket roll,
+canteen, and cartridge belt. How the sword bayonets at their sides
+clinked and threw back the light to the blue barrels of their
+Krag-Jorgensens!
+
+"Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by," came faintly from the distance. Still
+the yellow rows kept passing. The first battalion ended.
+
+Then a major appeared, walking alone, followed closely by a captain and
+first lieutenant. Ralston strained his eyes for the yellow line behind
+them. Ah, there they were! Good boys! Good boys!
+
+The even companies swung by until the battalion had passed.
+
+Then came another major at the head of the third battalion. The third
+battalion! The line swept across from curb to curb with a single man
+behind the major--a lieutenant. Company D! Steadman's! The major's face
+was set in a hard frown. Ralston laughed feebly. That was all right.
+He'd fix that. Just wait a few minutes. His captain would be there.
+
+The little crowd on the corner began to cheer. Another company came into
+view. They had the colors--the dear old colors. Ralston doffed his hat
+and held it to his breast, straining his glance after the flag. The
+pavement floated away from him and his eyes filled with hot tears. He
+could not see the lines of marching men, but stood staring at the corner
+beyond which the colors had disappeared.
+
+Overcome with utter exhaustion, he sobbed hysterically, grasping the
+iron railing at his side. In a moment he got the better of himself and
+brushed the tears hastily away. Then a hand was laid upon his shoulder
+and he turned to see Ellen, her own eyes moist, and her face pale,
+looking up at him.
+
+"Ellen!"
+
+"Dick!"
+
+That was all. At the end of the block the hospital corps with their
+stretchers were just passing out of sight. Steadman stood on the steps,
+leaning against the doorway. He grinned in a sheepishly good-natured
+manner at Ralston.
+
+"Well, I found him!" the latter managed to announce in a fairly natural
+tone.
+
+"So I see," answered Ellen, "and ready to report for duty."
+
+"Well, I guess I'll say good-by," said Ralston awkwardly. "You people
+can have the cab as long as the horse lasts."
+
+"No, you don't," said Steadman. "Remember you've agreed to put me at the
+head of my company. You haven't done it yet! Has he, Ellen?"
+
+"No, we intend to take you with us to the ferry," she answered with a
+smile.
+
+The word "we" sent a pang through Ralston's tired heart, and for an
+instant the sunlight paled before his eyes.
+
+"Come, jump in, both of you," said Ellen.
+
+She seemed very cheerful, and strangely enough, so did Steadman. Ralston
+wondered if when people cared like that just seeing each other again
+would have such a stimulating effect. For his own part he was too tired
+to speak. As they trotted slowly down Fifth Avenue Ellen and Steadman
+kept up a lively conversation. She admired his uniform, his sword, his
+belt; talked of the other men and officers she knew in the regiment, and
+of the chagrin of Lieutenant Coffin, when his captain should oust him
+from his temporary place at the head of the company. On Twenty-third
+Street, near Eighth Avenue, they overtook the regiment, and followed the
+remainder of the distance close behind the hospital corps. Then silence
+fell upon them. The actual parting loomed vividly just before them at
+the ferry.
+
+Crowds of people, mostly small tradesmen and persons living in the
+neighborhood, had already begun to collect and follow the troops toward
+the place of embarkation. Ahead, the band was playing "Garry Owen," and
+the colors blazed in the sunlight. The regiment looked like a field of
+yellow corn waving in the breeze. About a hundred yards from the ferry
+house a few sharp orders came down the line and the regiment halted--at
+"rest."
+
+Steadman looked at his watch.
+
+"Three minutes to seven," he said, snapping the case. "I guess the old
+man will drop when he sees _me_!"
+
+"Just in time!" murmured Ellen.
+
+"Drive along, cabby, to the head of the procession," added Steadman.
+
+There was plenty of space to allow the hansom to pass near the curb, and
+they drove slowly along past the three battalions to where the colonel
+and his staff stood waiting for the gates to be opened. The band had
+ceased playing. The men laughed and jested, watching the lone hansom and
+its three occupants with interest.
+
+At the stone posts by the entrance the cab stopped and Steadman shook
+hands with Ellen. The smile had gone from his face.
+
+"Good-by, Ellen--good-by!"
+
+"Good-by, John," she answered.
+
+Ralston had turned away his head.
+
+"Well, good-by, old man! Accept the prodigal's insufficient thanks.
+You're a brick, Ralston. Good-by!"
+
+Beside the hansom Steadman paused for an instant and looked up.
+
+"Don't forget what I said, Ellen! The fellow I spoke of is 'a prince.'
+Good-by!"
+
+He turned and walked rapidly to where the colonel stood talking to the
+chaplain. All the fatigue had vanished from his step as he drew himself
+up before his commanding officer and saluted.
+
+The staff had turned to him in amazement.
+
+"I report for duty, sir!" he said simply.
+
+The colonel stared at him for a moment.
+
+"Take your company, sir!" he replied tartly.
+
+Steadman saluted again, and grasping his sword ran down the line, while
+a wave of comment and ejaculation followed just behind him.
+
+At this moment a whistle blew inside the ferry house, and a porter
+slowly swung the gates open.
+
+The colonel drew his sword.
+
+"Attention!" said he, glancing behind him.
+
+"Attention!" ordered the lieutenant colonel.
+
+"Attention!" shouted the majors.
+
+As the regiment stiffened, Steadman stepped to the head of his company.
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Coffin," he remarked nonchalantly.
+
+"Good morning," replied the astounded lieutenant.
+
+Then as the order flew down the line Steadman drew his sword.
+
+"Attention!" he cried in a clear voice.
+
+Behind the staff the drum major held his baton in air, and the musicians
+stood with their instruments at their lips ready for the order.
+
+The colonel's eye flew down the line.
+
+"Forward--" he cried.
+
+Down came the drum major's baton. The band started "There'll be a Hot
+Time!"
+
+"--March!" concluded the colonel, and, turning front, stepped ahead.
+
+"Forward--march!" shouted the lieutenant colonel. The order was
+instantly repeated by the captains.
+
+The battalion came to shoulder arms and moved forward.
+
+"Horrard, Hutch! Horrard, Hutch!" howled the majors.
+
+"Urrgh! Uhh! Huh! Huh!" yelled the captains.
+
+Each company tossed its rifles into place, dressed down the line, marked
+step for a moment, and then flashed its hundred legs in unison to the
+band. The yellow field of corn once more wavered in the wind and blew
+slowly forward.
+
+Ellen and Ralston sat motionless in the hansom as the battalions tramped
+by. At the head of his company marching with drawn sword, his head
+slightly bent and his gaze straight before him, came Steadman, but his
+eyes sought them not. The hospital corps with their stretchers brought
+up the rear and disappeared through the gates. The commissariat wagons
+followed stragglingly. The band could be heard dimly in the distance.
+
+Then the whistle blew again and the man who had opened the gates ran out
+and closed them. The Twelfth had gone--with a full quota of officers.
+
+"The Chilsworth," said Ralston, through the manhole.
+
+The driver once more hitched the reins over the back of his moribund
+beast, and they started uptown.
+
+"Dick," said Ellen suddenly, in a whisper, "Dick!"
+
+He turned toward her inquiringly.
+
+"Yes, Ellen?"
+
+"I--I was mistaken last night," she said, coloring and looking away from
+him.
+
+"What do you mean?" cried Ralston, his heart leaping.
+
+"That--there was only one," she answered softly, smiling through her
+tears, "and--and--_it wasn't_ John!"
+
+The cabby grinned sleepily and silently closed the manhole, with a
+fatherly expression illuminating his corrugated countenance.
+
+"Hully gee!" he muttered meditatively. "I mighta known there was a woman
+mixed up in it, somehow! Glad he got her!--Git on thar, you!"
+
+Between the ferry houses the boat was swinging out into midstream, her
+decks crowded with yellow figures, and across the dancing waves the wind
+bore the faint strains of "Good-by, Little Girl, Good-by."
+
+
+
+
+NOT AT HOME
+
+
+    "For I say this is death and the sole death,--
+    When a man's loss comes to him from his gain,
+    Darkness from light, from knowledge ignorance,
+    And lack of love from love made manifest."
+          --_A Death in the Desert._
+
+
+"Harry might have stopped!" thought Brown, as a stalwart young man
+strode briskly past with a short "Good evening." "I've not had a chance
+to speak to him for a month." He hesitated as if doubtful whether or not
+to follow and overtake the other, then turned in his original direction.
+His delight in the scene about him was too exquisite to be interrupted
+even for a talk with his friend. Dusk was just falling. For an instant a
+purple glow lingered upon the spires of the beautiful gray cathedral
+whose chimes were softly echoing above the murmur of the city; then the
+light slipped upward and upward, until, touching the topmost point, it
+vanished into the shadows.
+
+All about him jingled the sleighbells; long lines of equipages carrying
+richly dressed women moved in continuous streams in each direction;
+hundreds of lamps began to gleam in the windows and along the avenue; a
+kaleidoscopic electric sign, changing momentarily, flashed parti-colored
+showers of light across the housetops; big automobiles, full of gay
+parties of men and women in enormous fur coats and grotesque visors,
+buzzed and hissed along; newsboys shrilly called their items; warm,
+humid breaths of fragrance rolled out from the florist's shops; and
+smells of confections, of sachet, of gasoline, of soft-coal smoke,
+together with that of roses and damp fur, hung on the keen air.
+
+The greatest pleasure in Brown's life, next to his friendship for Harry
+Rogers, was his continuously fresh wonder at and appreciation for the
+complex, brilliant, palpitating life of the great city in which he, the
+taciturn New Englander, had come to live. The richness of his present
+experience glowed against the somber background of his past, touching
+emotions hitherto dormant and unrecognized. He realized as yet only the
+mysterious charm, the overwhelming attraction of his new surroundings;
+and every sense, dwarfed by inheritance, chilled by the east wind,
+throbbed and tingled in response. So far as Brown knew happiness this
+was its consummation and it was all due to Rogers. As Brown wandered
+along the crowded thoroughfare his mind dwelt fondly upon his friend. He
+recalled their chance introduction two years before at the Colonial Club
+in Cambridge, through Rogers's friend Winthrop, and how his heart had
+instantly gone out to the courteous and responsive stranger. That
+meeting had been the first shimmer of light through the musty chrysalis
+of Brown's existence.
+
+Shortly afterwards he had given up his place in the English Department
+at Harvard at the suggestion of one of the faculty and accepted a
+position at Columbia. The professor had hinted that he was too good a
+man to wait for the slow promotion incident to a scholastic career in
+Cambridge, and had mentioned New York as offering immeasurably greater
+opportunities. The advice had appealed to Brown and he had acted upon
+it.
+
+He remembered how lonely he had been the first few weeks after his
+arrival. In that hot and sultry September the city had seemed a prison.
+He had longed for the green elms, the hazy downs, the earthy dampness of
+his solitary evening walks. One broiling day he had encountered Rogers
+on the elevated railroad. The latter had not recognized him at first,
+but presently had recalled their first meeting.
+
+Brown in his enthusiasm had spoken familiarly of Winthrop, explaining in
+detail his own departure from Cambridge and his plans for the future. He
+was nevertheless rather surprised to receive within a week a note from
+Mrs. Rogers inviting him to spend a Sunday with them at their country
+place. What had that not meant to him!
+
+At college he had taken high rank and was graduated at the top of his
+class, but he had made no friends. He would have given ten years of his
+life for a single companion to throw an arm around his shoulder and call
+him by his Christian name. He had never been "old man" to anybody--only
+"Mr. Brown." At night when he had heard the clinking of glasses and the
+bursts of laughter in the adjoining rooms as he sat by his kerosene lamp
+reading Milton or Bacon or "The Idio-Psychological Theory of Ethics," he
+would sometimes drop his books, turn out the light and creep into the
+hall, listening to what he could not share. Then with the tears burning
+in his eyes he would stumble back to his lonely room and to bed.
+
+When he had achieved the ambition of his college days and by
+heartbreaking and unremitted drudgery had secured a position upon the
+faculty, he had found his relations still unchanged. His shell had
+hardened. From Mr. Brown he had become merely "Old Brown."
+
+And then how easily he had stepped into this other life! The Rogers had
+received him with open arms; their house had become the only real home
+he had ever known; and his affection for his new friends had blossomed
+for him almost into a romance. Even when Harry was busy or away, Brown
+would drop in on Mrs. Rogers of an evening and read aloud to her from
+his favorite authors. He tried to guide her reading and sent her books,
+and little Jack he loved as his own child.
+
+The friendship, beginning thus auspiciously, continued for many months.
+Rogers put him up at the club and introduced him to his friends, so that
+Brown slipped into a delightful circle of acquaintances, and found his
+horizon broadening unexpectedly. Life assumed an entirely fresh
+significance, and although, by reason of a constitutional bluntness of
+perception, he failed utterly to discriminate between superficial
+politeness on the part of others and genuine interest, the world in
+which he was now living seemed to overflow with the milk of human
+kindness.
+
+Brown had been making afternoon calls. The friendly cup of tea was to
+him a delightful innovation, and he cultivated it assiduously. He paused
+in front of a large corner house and hopefully ascended the steps.
+
+"Not at 'ome," intoned the butler in response to his inquiry.
+
+He turned down a side street, but no better success awaited him. He had
+found no one "at home" that afternoon. Usually he had better luck. But
+it was getting late and almost time to dress for dinner, and, although
+Brown usually dined alone, he had become very particular about dressing
+for his evening meal. His heart was bursting with good nature as he
+sauntered along in the brisk evening air.
+
+This New York was a great place! There rose before him the vision of his
+little room in the Appian Way in Cambridge. Had he remained he would be
+just about going over to Memorial for his supper at the ill-assorted and
+uncongenial "graduates' table" to which he had belonged. Jaggers would
+have been there, and the Botany man, and that fresh chap, who ran the
+business end of _The Crimson_, and was always chaffing him about
+society. He smiled as he thought of the quiet corner of the club, and of
+the little table with its snowy linen by the window, which he had
+appropriated.
+
+In Cambridge he had passed long months without experiencing anything
+more stimulating than a Sunday afternoon call on a professor's daughter
+or an occasional trip into Boston for the theater, supplemented by a
+solitary Welsh rabbit at Billy Park's. Other men in the department had
+belonged to the Tavern Club, in Boston, or the Cambridge Dramatic
+Society, but he had never been asked to join anything, nor had he
+possessed the _entree_ even to the modest society of Cambridge. He was
+obliged to acknowledge--and it was in a measure gratifying to him to do
+so, since it threw his success into the higher relief--that judged by
+present standards his old life had been an absolute failure. No matter
+how genial he had tried to be, he had elicited little or no response.
+The days had been one dull round of tramping from his meals to lectures,
+and from lectures to the library. Although he had had no friends among
+his classmates, he had at least known their faces, but after graduation
+he had found himself, as it were, alone among strangers. As time went on
+he had become desperately unhappy and his work had suffered in
+consequence.
+
+Then he had come to New York. As if sent by Fate, Rogers had appeared,
+sought his companionship, made much of him. He began to think that
+perhaps he had misinterpreted the attitude of his quondam
+associates--they were such a quiet, prosaic, hard-working lot--so
+different from these debonair New Yorkers. And was not the cane they had
+presented to him on his departure a good evidence of their esteem? He
+swung it proudly. How well he recalled the moment when old Curtis had
+placed the treasure of gold and mahogany in his hands and, in the
+presence of his colleagues, had made his little speech, expressing their
+regret at losing him and wishing him all success. Then the others had
+clapped and cheered and he had stammered out his thanks. The
+presentation had been a tremendous surprise. Well, they were a good
+sort; a little dull, perhaps, but a good sort!
+
+Then, too, he felt himself a better man for his association with Rogers
+and his friends. It was such a new sensation to be appreciated and made
+something of that he had grown spiritually broader and taller. It had
+been very hard in Cambridge, where he had felt himself neglected and
+passed over, not to be selfish and spiteful. His standards had
+imperceptibly lowered. He had "looked at mean things in a mean way."
+Here it was different. With genial, broad-minded associates he had
+become warm-hearted and liberal. His drooping ideals had reared their
+heads. He felt new confidence in and respect for himself. Now he looked
+the world squarely in the eye. His work was improving, and the faculty
+at Columbia had expressed their appreciation of it. Life had never been
+so worth living. No one, he resolved, should ever suspect how small and
+narrow he had been before. He would always be the cheerful, generous,
+kindly chap for whom everybody seemed to take him. He had become a new
+man by reason of a little human sympathy.
+
+"How busy people are!" he thought. "I guess I'll have another try at
+Rogers." He crossed the avenue, found the house, and rang the bell. The
+bay window of the drawing-room was on a level with where he stood, and
+he caught a glimpse of Mrs. Rogers sitting beside a cozy tea table, and
+of little Jack playing by the fire. The maid, slipping aside the silk
+curtain before opening the door, inspected the visitor.
+
+"Mrs. Rogers is not at home," she remarked.
+
+Brown was paralyzed at such open prevarication.
+
+"I--I beg your pardon. But I think Mrs. Rogers is in."
+
+"Mrs. Rogers is not receiving," curtly replied the maid.
+
+Brown, vanquished but unconvinced, turned down the steps. At the bottom
+he stopped with a quick breath and glanced back at the house. Then he
+gave his trousers leg a cut with his gold-headed cane, and with a
+courageous whistle started up the avenue again.
+
+He was a bit puzzled. He was sure he could have done nothing to
+displease his friends. It was probably just a mistake; they had
+visitors, perhaps, or the child was not well. He would call up Rogers on
+the telephone next day and inquire.
+
+He walked to the boarding house and in the little hall bedroom he called
+"his rooms" put on the dinner coat of which he was so proud. It had
+cost sixty dollars at Rogers's tailor. He had never owned anything of
+the sort before. When he had been invited out to tea in Cambridge, which
+had been but rarely, he had always worn a "cutaway."
+
+He found Tomlinson, the club bore, in the coat room, invited him to
+dinner, and insisted on ordering a bottle of fine old claret. Tomlinson,
+in his opinion, was most clever and entertaining. After the meal his
+companion hurried away to an engagement, and Brown, lighting a cigar,
+strolled into the common-room, drew an armchair into the embrasure of a
+window, and sat there dreaming, at peace with all the world. The kindly
+faces of Rogers, his wife, and little Jack mingled together in a drowsy
+picture above the fragrant smoke wreaths. The bitterness of his past was
+all forgotten. The poverty and loneliness of his college days, the
+torture of his isolation in Cambridge, the regret for his youth's lost
+opportunities faded from his mind, and in their place he felt the warm
+breath of love and friendship, of kindness and appreciation, and the
+tiny clasp of the hand of little Jack. "God bless them all!" he closed
+his eyes. It seemed as though the boy were lying in his arms, the little
+head pressed against his shoulder. He held him tight and kissed the
+curly hair; his own head dropped lower; the cigar fell from his hand;
+behind the curtain Brown fell fast asleep.
+
+Half an hour later into his dream floated the voices of Rogers and
+Winthrop. A slight draught of air flowed beneath the curtain. Some one
+struck a bell close by and ordered coffee and cigars, and the cracking
+of six or seven matches marked the number of those who had sat down
+together beside the window. He listened vaguely, too comfortably happy
+to disclose himself.
+
+"You've got a lot of college men, I hear, in the district attorney's
+office," remarked one of the group, evidently to Rogers. "How do you
+like the work down there?"
+
+"Oh, well enough," came the reply. "Trying cases is always interesting,
+you know. By the way, Win, speaking of college men, exactly who is your
+friend Brown?"
+
+The dreamer behind the curtain smiled to himself. "Rogers may well ask
+that," he thought.
+
+"Brown?" returned Winthrop. "You wrote me he was in New York, didn't
+you? Why, you must have known him in Cambridge. He was the great light
+of my class--don't you remember?--president of the 'Pudding,' stroked
+the 'Varsity, and took a commencement part besides. A kind of 'Admirable
+Crichton.' I'm glad you've seen something of him here."
+
+There was silence for a moment or two. Obviously, thought Brown,
+Winthrop was confusing him with some one else.
+
+"No, no!" exclaimed Rogers impatiently "_you_ mean Nelson Brown; but
+he's on a tobacco plantation down in Cuba. The man I speak of is a
+little chap with a big head and protruding ears. You introduced me to
+him at the Colonial Club a year ago last spring."
+
+"Oh, well, I may have done so," answered Winthrop. "I don't recall it I
+think there was a fellow named Brown who used to hang around there--but
+he's no friend of mine. Who said he was?"
+
+"Hang it! You did yourself, in your letter to me," came Rogers's retort.
+
+"Nonsense! I was writing about Nelson!"
+
+Rogers smothered an ejaculation more forcible than elegant, but his
+annoyance seemed presently to give way to amusement, and he laughed
+heartily.
+
+"Look here, boys, what do you think of this? Two years ago I run on to
+Cambridge, and while there happen to meet a chap named Brown. A year
+later he turns up on the Elevated and greets me like a long-lost
+brother. I mention the incident in a letter to Win. He replies that
+Brown is the finest thing that ever came down the pike. _He_ refers to
+_Nelson_ Brown. _I_ suppose he means _my_ Brown. Thereupon I take this
+unknown person to my bosom and place my home at his disposal. He
+promptly squats on the premises, drives my wife nearly frantic, bores
+all my friends to death, and in a short time makes himself an
+unmitigated nuisance. Fortunately, he hasn't asked me for money. Now,
+who the devil is he?"
+
+"Don't know him from Adam!" said Winthrop.
+
+"I know who he is," interjected one of the others. "Took a course of his
+on the 'Philology of Psychology' or the 'Psychology of Philology' or
+something. He's just an ass--a surly beggar--a sort of--of--curmudgeon!"
+
+The window curtain trembled slightly, but no one noticed it.
+
+"I can tell you rather a good story about Brown," spoke up a voice that
+had hitherto been silent. "You know I taught for a time in the English
+Department last year. Brown meant well enough, I guess, but he was an
+odd creature. His great ambition evidently was to get into society.
+Every Sunday he would put on his togs and call on all the unfortunate
+people he knew. Finally, everybody showed him the door. He got to be so
+intolerable that the department fired him, to our intense relief. No
+one cared what became of him--so long as he only went. But Curtis--you
+remember old Curtis with the white hair and mustache?--he felt sorry for
+Brown and thought we ought at least to make a pretense of regret at
+having him leave. He suggested various things, but his ideas didn't
+arouse any sympathy, and we thought that was going to end the matter.
+Not a bit of it. Curtis went into town, all alone, and, although he is
+rather hard up himself, bought a gold-headed mahogany cane for
+forty-five dollars, and next day, when we were all at a department
+meeting, presented it to Brown, from the crowd, and got off a whole lot
+of stuff intended to cheer our departing friend. Of course we had to be
+decent enough to see the thing through, and Brown took it all in and
+almost wept when he thanked us. A few days afterwards Curtis came around
+and wanted us all to contribute to pay for the cane."
+
+"Well!" responded Rogers. "Even my little boy knew there was something
+wrong with him the first time they met--children are like dogs, you
+know, in that way. Jack whispered to his mother while Brown was
+grimacing at him, 'Mamma, is that a gentleman?' Thought Brown was a gas
+man or a window cleaner, you know."
+
+"Poor brute!" commented Winthrop. "Anyhow, Harry, your mistake has
+probably given him a lot of pleasure. No wonder he seized the
+opportunity. You can drop him by degrees so that, perhaps, he'll never
+suspect. Still, if he's as thick as you say he may give you trouble yet!
+Hello, it's a quarter past eight already! We shall have to run if we
+expect to see the first act. Come on, fellows!"
+
+Half hidden behind the curtain in the window, Brown sat staring out into
+the night.
+
+Hour after hour passed; the servants looked into the deserted room,
+observed him, apparently asleep, and departed noiselessly. One o'clock
+came, and Peter, the doorman, crossed over and touched him gently on the
+shoulder, saying that it was time to close the club. Brown mechanically
+arose, followed Peter to the coat room, and then, with eyes still fixed
+vacantly before him, silently passed out.
+
+"You've left your cane, sir!" Peter called after him.
+
+But Brown paid no heed.
+
+
+
+
+A STUDY IN SOCIOLOGY
+
+
+"I move the case of the People against Ludovico Candido, indicted for
+murder," announced the assistant district attorney, addressing the
+court.
+
+"Bring up Candido," shouted the captain to one of the attendants.
+
+"Where's his lawyer?" inquired the clerk, glancing along the benches.
+
+"I haven't seen him since morning," answered the assistant.
+
+"Send to Mr. Fellini's office, at once," ordered the judge impatiently.
+"He has no business to delay the court."
+
+At this moment the door in the rear of the room opened to admit a small
+dusty-looking Italian, stumbling along in advance of a tall, muscular
+policeman, and clutching nervously in both hands a battered,
+brick-stained felt hat. He was an emaciated, gaunt little fellow of
+about forty-five, with a thin mustache, pointed nose, and wild, rapidly
+shifting brown eyes. Under his open coat a red undershirt, unbuttoned at
+the neck, disclosed his sinewy chest. The nondescript trousers, which
+reached only to his ankles, terminated in huge, formless, machine-made
+shoes, the original color of which had entirely disappeared in favor of
+a dull whitish-green streaked with red.
+
+He muttered beneath his breath as he saw the throng of strange faces,
+not knowing what was to happen next; but the attendant shoved him on
+without ceremony. Five years in America had taught him only twenty words
+of English, and for aught that he could tell this might well be the
+place of public execution. The rough, imperious lawyer who had consented
+to take his case on the instalment plan had not been to see him in over
+a week. This was because Maria had spent the first instalment on a
+little feast of chicken which she had cooked and brought to the Tombs in
+a newspaper for her husband, instead of taking the money to the
+attorney's office.
+
+As Candido was half dragged, half pushed to the bar, a plump,
+white-skinned, clean-shaven man in a surtout entered the court room and
+thrust his way forward. Suddenly the prisoner uttered a choking cry and
+sank trembling to his knees, his locked hands raised to the judge in
+piteous appeal, while the attendants strove unsuccessfully to lift him
+to his feet.
+
+"Madonna!" he cried in his native tongue. "O Madonna! I confess that I
+took the life of Beppe! _Salvatemi!_"
+
+The begoggled, piebald-bearded interpreter who had taken his stand
+beside the defendant began to translate in a dramatic, stilted
+bellowing.
+
+"He says: 'O Madonna, I confess----'"
+
+"Here! Stop him! Stop that! Tell him to keep still. That won't do,"
+interposed the assistant.
+
+The interpreter gesticulated at the Italian, chattering volubly the
+while. Candido, staring like a frightened animal, allowed himself to be
+placed upon his feet, and stood clinging to the rail.
+
+"Are you ready to proceed to trial?" sternly asked the court of the
+plump man in the surtout.
+
+"I am not, your honor," replied the man. "I have not been paid."
+
+Candido raised his hands in supplication. "_O giudice! Confesso_----"
+
+The lawyer glanced at him contemptuously. "Shut up, you fool!" he
+growled in Italian.
+
+"You have not been paid? That makes no difference. This is no time to
+throw over your client."
+
+"I do not represent the prisoner," replied the other stubbornly. "If
+your honor cares to assign me as counsel, I shall be pleased to do so."
+
+Candido, hearing the severity of the judge's tones, shook in every limb.
+
+"So that is your game!" exclaimed his honor wrathfully. "You have
+induced this man to retain you as his lawyer, in order that now, on the
+plea that you have not been paid, you may induce me to assign you as
+counsel, and thus secure the five-hundred-dollar fee allowed by the
+State. A fine performance! I order you to proceed to trial!"
+
+"Then I respectfully decline," retorted the other, turning toward the
+door.
+
+The judge bit his lips in well-controlled anger. "Mr. District Attorney,
+prepare an order at once and serve it upon this attorney to appear
+before me to-morrow morning and show cause why he should not be punished
+for contempt of court. I will assign ex-Judge Flynn to the defense.
+Adjourn court until to-morrow morning." The judge rose and strode
+indignantly from the bench, while the jurors surged toward the entrance.
+
+"Come on there," ordered the attendant. "You're goin' to get new lawyer.
+Lucky feller!"
+
+But Candido with a shriek threw himself on the floor, clutching at the
+feet of the officers. "Madonna! Madonna! Is it indeed all over? Have
+they ordered me to execution? _Salvatemi!_ Madonna!"
+
+The grizzled interpreter stooped down and muttered in his ear: "Courage,
+my countryman! Nothing has occurred. They are to give you a better and
+more learned advocate."
+
+Clinging to the arm of the attendant, Candido staggered toward the door
+leading to the prison pen. His face, ashen before, was now a dusky
+white. He understood nothing of this talk of advocates and adjournments.
+Let them but terminate his suspense. He was ready to expiate his
+offense. He had explained that to the lawyer. It was the will of God.
+
+Close to the wire gate stood a young Italian woman with a shawl thrown
+about her slender shoulders, her hand holding that of a little child.
+"_Ludovico! Ludovico mio!_" she cried passionately. "Is it over? What
+has happened?"
+
+Candido answered with a great gasping sob. "_Maria! Figlio mio!_ I do
+not know!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Candido sat at the bar by the side of the lawyer assigned to defend him.
+Over night in the Tombs he had been informed exactly what had been the
+meaning of the mysterious proceedings of the day before. The great
+advocate had intimated that there might still be a chance for him. After
+all, he had only killed another Italian, and American juries were
+merciful.
+
+The case, the assistant told the jury in opening, was simple
+enough--plainly murder in the first degree. Giuseppe, or "Beppe"
+Montaro, the deceased, and Ludovico Candido, the prisoner, had both
+come from the same town in Calabria and had been very old friends,
+although Beppe was the younger by some ten years. When Ludovico had
+sought his fortune in America, his wife Maria had remained behind; so
+had Beppe. Candido had been gone for five years, and had then sent for
+his wife. Beppe had come, too. In New York they all had lived together,
+Maria keeping house and taking a number of boarders. Then there had been
+a quarrel. The neighbors had said that Beppe did not always go out to
+work, or that sometimes he returned while Ludovico was away. One night
+Candido had closed the door in the face of his friend, who had sought
+lodgings elsewhere.
+
+It appeared that, the day before the homicide, Candido had purchased a
+revolver which he had exhibited to his wife. A neighbor later had
+overheard her crying, and had asked what was the matter, to which she
+had replied: "Ludovico has bought a pistol. I fear it is for Beppe!" The
+next Sunday evening the defendant and Montaro had met in a wine shop,
+walked to Candido's house together, and in front of the door had had
+violent words. Then the husband had shot the lover.
+
+It was as plain as daylight. There was the motive, the premeditation,
+the deliberation, and the intent. At the conclusion of the evidence the
+prosecution would ask for a verdict of murder in the first degree.
+
+Candido's eyes strayed away from the young prosecutor, furtively seeking
+the corner where Maria and the child were sitting. He could not see
+them, owing to the throngs of neighbors huddled upon the benches. There
+were Petulano the baker, Felutelli the janitor, little Frederico the
+proprietor of the wine shop, Condesso, Pettalino, and Mantelli, with
+their wives, their sisters, and friends.
+
+"Pietro Petrosino!" called the prosecutor. A lithe youngster slipped off
+the front bench smiling and made his way behind the jury box. The jury
+brightened instinctively as they caught sight of his picturesque figure,
+the round curly head, and the flush of the deep-olive complexion.
+Candido knew him for a gambler, cock-fighter, and worse. What plot could
+be brewing now? How did it come that this man was going to be a witness
+against him? How had the prosecution got hold of him?--this scum from
+Sicily, this man who knew less than nothing of the affair.
+
+Pietro's black eyes sparkled innocently as he took the oath and threw
+himself gracefully across the armchair on the platform, the center of
+collective observation.
+
+_O Dio!_ He knew the defendant, yes, to his cost, he knew him! And
+Beppe, also. Alas! Poor Beppe! A fine statue of a man, a good man, a
+peaceable man! He also had been with them in the wine shop when the two
+had talked together apart from the others. No doubt Candido had had the
+pistol in his pocket at the very moment. They had whispered between
+themselves, their heads close together, "_like one who is being
+shriven_," and Beppe had kissed the hand of Ludovico in friendship.
+Ludovico had returned the caress. Then the three had walked homeward,
+and from the darkness of the hallway Candido had shot out at Beppe--shot
+him _come un sacco_ (like a bag). Pietro illustrated, taking the part of
+Beppe. He whispered, he kissed an imaginary hand, he walked, he
+fell--"like a bag!"
+
+The jury listened entranced. It was like going to the theater, only
+better--much better, and cost nothing. Besides, afterward, they could
+turn down their thumbs or turn them up, as they might see fit. For a
+moment the jury saw or thought they saw the whole thing--the perfidious
+hand-kissing assassin--then--
+
+"_Bugiardo! Bugiardo!_" shrieked Candido, rising hysterically and
+tearing the air in impotent rage. "Liar! Liar! He was not there! He
+knows nothing! He is an enemy!"
+
+"_Silenzio!_" cried the fantastically bearded interpreter.
+
+"Keep still!" ordered a court officer, shaking the prisoner roughly by
+the shoulder. The jury were delighted. Pietro was entirely unconcerned.
+A rapid fire of Italian ran quickly along the benches.
+
+Ludovico subsided into a little heap, his head sunk beneath his
+shoulders, the tears coursing down his cheeks. Madonna! Would they take
+the word of an enemy? Did they not know he was a Sicilian? What other
+hidden motive might not Pietro have? Candido stiffened and again turned
+to where he knew his wife must be sitting. Ah, that wretch! He had
+noticed his looks and glances. Candido ground his teeth, then dropped
+his head upon his arms.
+
+"Maria Delsarto!" shouted the attendant.
+
+Candido shivered and groaned aloud. They were calling his own wife to
+testify against him! He grew cold with terror. There was a conspiracy to
+get rid of him. The two had a secret understanding! What if she admitted
+having seen the pistol in his hands? And his threats! Now in truth it
+was all over! He settled himself stolidly, his eyes fixed upon the
+varnished table before him.
+
+Maria came forward, carrying her babe in her arms--Ludovico's "_piccolo
+bambino!_" She was still young and slight; but cheeks a little sunken
+and lips a little set told the story of her dire struggle with poverty.
+In her eyes glowed the beauty of her race, and their long lashes drooped
+on her pale cheeks as her lips moved automatically, repeating after the
+interpreter the words of the oath.
+
+Candido did not raise his own eyes. For him all desire for life had
+vanished. His wife was about to sacrifice him for a new lover, a
+Sicilian! He sat motionless. The sooner it was done the better.
+
+Maria let one hand lie gently on the arm of the witness chair, while
+with the other she caressed the sleeping child in her lap. Her gray
+shawl fell away from behind her head and showed a white neck around
+which hung a slender gold chain bearing a little cross. She looked
+neither at Candido nor at the jury. Then she took the little cross in
+her hand and glanced down at it.
+
+"Your name?" asked the prosecutor.
+
+"Maria Delsarto." Her voice was soft, musical, distinct.
+
+"You are the wife of the defendant?"
+
+"Yes, signore, and this is his child."
+
+"Do you remember that the day before the homicide of Montaro your
+husband brought home a revolver?"
+
+Candido's head disappeared beneath his arms and his body shook
+convulsively.
+
+"No, he had no pistol."
+
+The prisoner raised his eyes and shot a quick, puzzled look at his wife.
+
+"What?" cried the assistant. "You say he had no revolver? Did you not
+swear that you saw one and sign a paper to that effect?"
+
+Maria looked steadily before her. "I did not understand the paper. I saw
+no pistol." The words came quietly, positively.
+
+The prosecutor looked helplessly toward the judge and nervously fingered
+an affidavit.
+
+"You cannot impeach your own witness, Mr. District Attorney," admonished
+his honor.
+
+The prosecutor turned again to Maria. "Did you not tell Sophia Mantelli
+that you were weeping because your husband had purchased a revolver with
+which to kill Beppe?"
+
+"Objected to!" shouted Flynn.
+
+"I will allow it," said his honor, "on the ground of refreshing memory.
+The witness may answer."
+
+"No," answered Maria in the same quiet voice.
+
+The prosecutor threw down the affidavit in disgust. That was what you
+got for taking the word of one of these Italians! Well, it would be a
+lesson! No, he had no more questions. Candido began to chatter at his
+lawyer and fell to nodding and smiling at Maria, who seemed to see him
+no more than before.
+
+Flynn rose deliberately, cleared his throat, and elevated and stretched
+his arms as if to secure freer action, exhibiting during the operation a
+large pair of soiled cuffs.
+
+"Do you know Pietro What's-his-name?" he inquired sharply.
+
+Maria flushed and her head sank toward the child. "Yes," she murmured.
+
+"You have heard him testify that he saw the killing of Montaro?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you know where he was at that time?"
+
+Maria's head fell so low that her face could not be seen, and her hand
+sought the cross upon her bosom.
+
+"Answer the question!" cried Flynn roughly.
+
+"He was with me when we heard the shots below." Her voice dropped to a
+whisper. "He had been there for an hour. He was not with Ludovico at
+all. He saw nothing."
+
+An excited chatter flew around the benches. The handsome Pietro sat
+dumfounded.
+
+Candido started from his chair, his face livid with passion, his eyes
+glaring. "_Traditrice!_ It is thus you deceive me! It is well that I
+should die. Faithless betrayer!"
+
+In the hysteria of the moment he entirely overlooked the value of the
+testimony in his behalf. The attendant and the distinguished Flynn
+thrust him down, and the interpreter hurled at him a torrent of
+remonstrances. Once more the prisoner buried his face in his hands.
+Maria, still hanging her head, left the chair, and with her babe in her
+arms sought a distant corner of the court room.
+
+With the testimony of an officer that a button photograph of Maria had
+been found pinned inside the coat of Montaro, the prosecution closed its
+case. The assistant district attorney sat down. The jury shifted their
+positions. The distinguished Flynn rose to make motions that the case be
+taken from the jury. It was plain, he argued in sonorous and
+reverberating tones, that the prosecution had impeached its principal
+witness by the testimony of the defendant's wife, Maria Delsarto. It had
+raised a reasonable doubt on its own evidence. There was nothing upon
+which the jury could predicate a verdict. He asked that they be directed
+to acquit. Was his motion denied? With an expression of well-simulated
+surprise, he made the other stereotyped motions. The court denied them
+all.
+
+Candido saw and trembled. That shaking of the head could mean only one
+thing! Well, they would let him see the priest first--before they did
+it.
+
+"Take the chair!" came Flynn's harsh voice from above.
+
+"The chair!" _La sedia!_ Madonna! He knew that word. So soon then? He
+stiffened with horror. A chilly perspiration broke out all over his
+body. The room swam and darkness surged across his bewildered vision.
+
+"Take the chair!" repeated the voice.
+
+"_La sedia!_" bellowed the interpreter. "_La sedia!_"
+
+Candido shivered as with ague. His teeth chattered. _Dio!_ Now?
+
+The attendant placed a hand upon his shoulder. Candido uttered a
+terrible cry, and fell senseless to the floor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A long adjournment, a talk with the priest, an explanation from the
+interpreter, and Candido "took the chair," telling his own story in a
+fluent but listless monotone. He spoke of his father and mother, of his
+home in Calabria, of Maria whom he had known from childhood. His speech
+was soft and dejected. Then he told of Beppe--Beppe, the great, coarse,
+bullying brute who had tormented and abused him! Yet he had never
+retaliated until the other had sought to ruin his home. Then he had
+refused him access. Montaro had publicly sworn to be revenged, declaring
+that he would kill him and marry his widow.
+
+Candido gritted his teeth and shook his curved fingers, uttering various
+_staccato_ adjectives. Then he recovered himself, and in a different
+tone began to speak slowly and with great care, pausing after each
+sentence. From time to time he looked to observe the effect of his
+testimony upon the distinguished Flynn. That night in the wine shop
+Montaro had called him aside and in the most insulting manner warned him
+of his approaching fate. He would be dead within a week, and Maria would
+belong to another. Then in mockery Montaro had bent over his hand as if
+to administer a caress and had _bitten_ it--the deadliest of affronts.
+Candido had hurried out of the shop toward his home, closely followed by
+Montaro. At the door of the tenement his enemy had rushed upon him with
+a drawn knife from behind, and to save his own life Candido had fired at
+him.
+
+"He was a bad man--_un perfido_. He would have killed me and taken my
+wife from me had I not killed him," continued the defendant. As for this
+Pietro, he had not been there at all. He was an enemy, a Sicilian.
+
+In response to a question of the assistant, he explained that the pistol
+was an old one. He had not bought it to kill Montaro. He had had it for
+four or five years. Had procured it for safety when working on the
+railroad.
+
+By degrees Candido recovered from his listlessness. He no longer seemed
+careless as to the result of the case. A new strong thirst for life had
+taken possession of him. There was an air of frankness about the
+weather-beaten little countenance, and a trustful look in the brown eyes
+that served far better than "character witnesses" to convince the jury
+of his ingenuousness. There was no doubt as to his having made an
+impression.
+
+The distinguished Flynn patted him on the back as he took his seat and
+felt greatly encouraged. These Italians were great actors--and no
+mistake!
+
+[Illustration: "The distinguished Flynn burst into a deluge of
+oratory."]
+
+But the prosecution had reserved a bombshell for the last, intended
+to annihilate the testimony of the defendant and neutralize the effect
+of his personality upon the jury. The assistant called in rebuttal a
+salesman from a large retail fire-arm store, who testified positively
+that the pistol in evidence had been purchased the day before the
+homicide. Flynn turned to the attendant, whom he knew well and cursed.
+These Guineas! Bought the day before! He had all the air of one who has
+been grossly and inexcusably deceived. He scowled at Candido, who
+quailed before him.
+
+"How long do you want to sum up, gentlemen?" inquired the court. "Will
+twenty minutes each be sufficient?"
+
+The distinguished Flynn burst into a deluge of oratory in which
+Self-Defense and The Unwritten Law played opposite one another, neither
+yielding precedence. His client was a hero! The instinct of every true
+American, of every husband, of every father, must stamp his deed as one
+blameless in the eyes of the Almighty, and worthy not of censure but of
+the approval of all honest men and lovers of virtue. At the risk of his
+own life he had preserved the integrity of his home and the honor of his
+wife. At the same time he had rid the community of a villain. Never,
+while the Stars and Stripes floated above their heads would an American
+jury on this sacred soil, consecrated by the blood of those who
+sacrificed their lives to liberty, etc.-- He subsided, panting and
+mopping his forehead.
+
+The assistant rose to reply. This explanation of the defendant that he
+had killed in self-defense was the last despairing effort of a guilty
+man to escape the consequences of his horrible crime. Of course the
+prisoner's own evidence was valueless. Jealousy! Calm, calculating
+jealousy! That was the key to this awful act. The tell-tale picture on
+Montaro's coat, the crimson admissions of the defendant's wife, the
+purchase of the pistol--all spoke for themselves. The prosecutor paused.
+
+"Sympathy is not for the assassin," he concluded. "Think rather of his
+innocent victim! On the sunny shores of Calabria sits a woman, old and
+gray, to whom this Beppe is her joy, her pride, who thinks of him by day
+working in the great America across the seas, and whose heart, as the
+time for the harvest draws near and the exiles are coming back to work
+in the fields, will beat with expectation. The others will come. Father
+will meet daughter, and mother will meet son, and they will tell of
+their life in the great country of Freedom; but for her there will be no
+gladness--her Beppe will return no more."
+
+The assistant sank into his seat. Candido was staring at him with wide
+eyes. He knew the _avvocato_ had been talking about Calabria. Madonna!
+Would he ever see it again?
+
+"Gentlemen of the jury," began his honor. "I shall first define the
+various degrees of murder and manslaughter."
+
+The sun fell lower and lower over the Tombs as the judge continued his
+charge. The jury twisted uneasily in their chairs. Candido grew tired.
+This interminable flow of talk! Why did not the judge say what should be
+done to him at once? Millions of motes swam in the sun, and with his
+head resting on his forearms he watched them idly. He had always loved
+the sun. A warm lassitude stole over him. On Sundays he had spent whole
+mornings curled up on a bench in Seward Park with Maria and the
+_bambino_ beside him. How funnily the motes danced about! He smiled
+drowsily at them. Some were so tiny as to be almost invisible, and some
+were really large--if you half closed your eyes and one got near it
+seemed almost as big as a cat--fluffy like a cat. Those little, tiny
+motes would float out of nowhere into the band of sunshine and sink and
+dart across it, vanishing into nothingness. Candido amused himself by
+blowing millions of them into eternity. He himself was just like that.
+Out of the black, into the warm sun for a little while, and then--pouf!
+
+There was a tremendous scuffling of feet beside him, and the jury rose
+and filed out. The noise brought him back out of his dream to the
+realities again. They were going away! Judgment had been pronounced! The
+judge bowed solemnly to the retreating foreman. Again the fierce chill
+of overwhelming animal fear seized him. An officer approached. Madonna!
+He could not pass into the black like the motes, he could not! And he
+was as yet unshriven! With his frail little body vibrating like a
+framework of slender steel, he turned and faced the officer, panting
+with fear, his eyes darting fire.
+
+"Aw, come along!" growled the attendant, raising his hand to seize him
+by the arm.
+
+"I cannot die unshriven!" shrieked Candido, and flung himself furiously
+upon the officer, biting, kicking, scratching, until, nearly fainting
+from his paroxysm of terror and in a coma of exhaustion, he allowed
+himself to be carried away by three burly Irishmen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Bring up the defendant!" directed the court. The jury were already in
+and waiting for the prisoner. The Italians had all been hustled out into
+the corridor. His honor had no mind for any sort of demonstration. The
+light still poured through the great windows, and the sky was a deep
+sunny blue over the Tombs. Resisting, clutching at sills and railing,
+hanging by his arms, Candido was carried in and held bodily at the bar.
+
+"Jurors, look upon the defendant. Defendant, look upon the jurors. How
+say you, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?" asked the
+clerk grandiloquently.
+
+"Not guilty," answered the foreman distinctly, and with a shade of
+defiance in his voice.
+
+"Listen to your verdict as it stands recorded," continued the clerk,
+unaffected. "You find the defendant not guilty, and so say you all."
+
+"Any other charges against the prisoner?" inquired his honor.
+
+"Not yet," replied the assistant with sarcasm.
+
+Suddenly Candido began again. "Madonna! Save me! I confess that I killed
+Beppe, my countryman----"
+
+The bifurcated interpreter jabbered furiously at him. An expression of
+dumb amazement overspread the dusty little face.
+
+"You are free, acquitted, discharged; you may return to your home!"
+announced the beard dramatically, waving a hand in the direction of the
+door. The officers lowered Candido slowly to his feet. He picked up his
+hat. Abject wonder was painted upon his countenance. He gazed from the
+judge to the jury, and back again to the prosecutor.
+
+"Madonna! I am pardoned for killing Beppe? _O giudici_, I kiss your
+hands." He seized that of the interpreter and devoured it with kisses.
+Then with a smile he added: "Ah, you see I could not but kill him! He
+had ruined my home! He had deprived me of honor!"
+
+[Illustration: "He caught sight of the waiting Maria."]
+
+The attendants faced him toward the door, and he started slowly away;
+but before he had taken half a dozen steps he caught sight of the
+waiting Maria. His face changed. Once more he turned to the interpreter
+and muttered something hoarsely beneath his breath.
+
+"He says," translated the interpreter, turning to the court, "that he
+would like to have his pistol."
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE FELLER
+
+
+Five feet high, in a suit of clothes three sizes too large for him, he
+stood in the doorway of my office impassively examining a card which he
+held in his hand and looking doubtfully about the room.
+
+"I want to see the assistant district attorney," he said.
+
+"Well, this is the right place," I answered in as encouraging a tone as
+I could assume.
+
+"I want to see you--to speak with you. That lawyer company----"
+
+"Oh, the Legal Aid? What do you want to see me about?"
+
+"The little feller," he replied, taking a step forward and grasping his
+flat Derby hat firmly before him with both hands.
+
+"What's the trouble?"
+
+"It's the little feller--Isaac--they have arrested him for larceny." He
+spoke the words in a matter-of-fact--rather hopeful--altogether engaging
+manner.
+
+"Larceny, eh! How old is he?"
+
+"Eight. But he didn't do nothin'. He was out with some bad boys, but he
+didn't do nothin' and the cop arrested him with the others. That's all.
+I came down to get him off, if I could." He smiled frankly.
+
+"What's your name?" I inquired, for ingenuousness of that sort is
+uncommon among the Jews.
+
+"Abraham Aselovitch--my father is Isidore and my mother she is Rachael
+Aselovitch."
+
+"And this little fellow--is he your brother?"
+
+"Sure."
+
+"When does his case come up?"
+
+"Next Monday in the Children's Court." He shifted his position.
+
+"Well, even if he is found guilty they will probably only send him to
+the Juvenile Asylum."
+
+"That's it--Juvenile Asylum. It's a bad place. I don't want him to go
+there," replied the boy with determination.
+
+"Why not, Abraham?" I inquired.
+
+"It is a bad place. He will meet bad boys there--like the ones that got
+him into trouble," he responded with an eager look.
+
+"It's not such a bad place," I ventured.
+
+"I know what it is!" he retorted fiercely. "They make criminals there.
+Good boys are put in with the bad. It makes no difference. One makes the
+other bad. Isaac is a _good_ boy."
+
+"How about the evidence?"
+
+"I think they will convict him," remarked Abraham conclusively. "Those
+cops will swear to anything."
+
+"Oh, it isn't as bad as that," I answered with a smile. "Still, I'm
+afraid I can't get him off, particularly if the evidence would warrant
+his conviction. After all, perhaps the Juvenile is the best place for
+him, or maybe" (the thought struck me) "they will parole him in the
+custody of his mother."
+
+"No, they won't!" he cried with harsh vindictiveness. "She _wants_ him
+to go there. The little feller, he makes too much trouble for her. She
+don't want that she should have to clean up after him. She don't want to
+have to cook for him." His eyes filled. "My mother, she has no use for
+the little feller--but he's all I've got."
+
+"Do you work?"
+
+"Sure, every morning I go with my father at six o'clock, and I work all
+day until seven. Then I come home, and the little feller is lying in my
+bed and I put my arms around him and go to sleep."
+
+"Six until seven!" I exclaimed.
+
+"Yes, that is the time my father works, and I work for him--on the
+pants."
+
+"My God! A sweatshop!" I murmured. "Don't you ever have any fun?"
+
+"Sure I do. Saturdays we don't do no work an' I take the little feller
+down to Coney, an' sit on the sand all day with him. Do we have fun?
+Well, say, I guess!"
+
+"What does your father give you a week?"
+
+"Sometimes a dollar. Sometimes a dollar and a half. Sometimes nothin'."
+
+"What does your father say about putting Isaac in the asylum?"
+
+"My father!" answered Abraham, his eyes flashing. "_He_ don't want him.
+Isaac won't work. He's an _American_ boy. He's only eight. He just hangs
+around the house and musses things up and won't do nothin' they tell
+him. My father would be glad to get rid of him."
+
+"Well, if he makes all this trouble, why do you want to keep him?" I
+asked.
+
+"Because I love him!" responded Abraham with a sob. "He's all I've
+got--that little feller. I want him to grow up a good boy. If they
+don't want to take care of him, _I will_. I'll earn the money. I'll send
+him to school, maybe, by and by, and make a _lawyer_ of him." Abraham
+spoke eagerly. "The old folks, my father and mother, they ain't like me
+and you, they ain't real Americans, they don't understand these things.
+All they think about is work and the synagogue. I'm up against it, I
+know. I've got to work. But the little feller--I want that little feller
+to come out on top and have a chance."
+
+"McCarthy," said I to the county detective assigned to the office,
+"kindly step into the next room. I want to speak to this boy alone.
+
+"Abraham, you are up against it, I guess. Don't you think you can go
+without the little feller for a year? I'll do what I can, but even if he
+goes up they won't keep him longer than that at the asylum, and probably
+when he comes out he'll be more of a help to your father and mother."
+
+The big tears stood in his eyes and he twisted his hands together as he
+answered:
+
+"I guess--maybe--maybe, I could give up going down to Coney for a year,
+if it was going to do him any good. Don't you think the asylum's so
+bad?"
+
+"No, indeed," said I. "It's fine. He can learn to play in the band.
+He'll have a good time. Let him go."
+
+For an instant I thought my words had made an impression. Then the two
+tears welled over.
+
+"You don't know--" the voice was low and passionate--"you don't know
+what it is to have nothin' but a little feller like that. And way off
+there--he would wake up in the night maybe--all alone--a little
+feller----"
+
+"Abraham!" I exclaimed, "the Juvenile be hanged! I'll see the judge and
+do my best to have the little fellow remanded in the custody of his
+brother. And Abraham----"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Where is the little feller? Out on bail?"
+
+"Yessir."
+
+I fumbled in my pocket for a dollar bill.
+
+"Will you be paid for to-day?" I asked.
+
+"No, there's nothin' doin' to-day," he answered.
+
+"Had any work this week?"
+
+"Nothin' much this week. There ain't much doin' at the shop. I won't get
+paid this week."
+
+"Well," I continued, "the little feller is free till Monday, anyhow.
+Take him down to Coney to-morrow. And see here, Abraham, just _spend_
+that dollar. Be a good sport." He grinned. "Take the little feller along
+and sit on the sand, and if there is anything you want to see, no matter
+if it costs five cents or ten cents, you go in and see it. Have a real
+good time. Something for the little fellow to remember."
+
+He smiled out of his eyes a heaven-born smile.
+
+"Thank you."
+
+"Never mind that, just do as I say. And Monday you go to court with him.
+I'll see what I can do."
+
+"You bet I will. I'll take the little feller down there to-morrow. You
+ought to see him, Mister. Some time I'll bring him in here."
+
+He shook hands and turned to open the door. As it closed behind him,
+there echoed faintly through the transom:
+
+"Just wait till you see that little feller!"
+
+
+
+
+RANDOLPH, '64
+
+
+    "For the good and the great, in their beautiful prime,
+    Through thy precincts have musingly trod--"
+
+The roll of the national anthem died away and the veterans stood with
+bowed heads while the chaplain pronounced the benediction. Then the
+color bearer elevated the regimental flags, the drums tapped, and the
+gray-haired soldier boys, in straggling twos, marched slowly out of
+Saunders's Theater, through the flower-bedecked transept, and into the
+broad sunshine of Memorial Day. Ralph and I lingered in our seats until
+the crowd had thinned. In the flag-draped balcony above the platform the
+members of the band were hurriedly departing with their impedimenta;
+here and there little old ladies dressed in gray, were making their way
+with tardy steps toward the side exit; while all around the theater the
+open windows poured in a battery of mote-filled sunshine upon the
+deserted benches. The air was heavy with the soft fragrance of the elms
+outside, the faint odor of starched linen, of pine dust, and of flowers.
+
+"There's a pair for you!" whispered Ralph, as an erect old gentleman
+accompanied by a white-haired negro came up the aisle. "I wish I knew
+who they were." He offered to wager large sums, based upon his alleged
+capacity for divination, that they were an "old grad," a Southerner,
+probably, and his body servant--"Old Marse" and "Uncle Ned." He
+instantly saw visions of them as characters in a story he was writing
+for one of the college papers. He is an imaginative boy.
+
+We followed them out into the transept, and waited in the jog by the
+entrance while they made the round of the tablets, the white man reading
+the various inscriptions to his companion, who now and then would nod as
+if in recollection, and once furtively wiped his eyes with a frayed
+red-bordered silk handkerchief. The last we saw of them, they were
+picking their way across the car tracks of Cambridge Street in the
+direction of the Yard.
+
+All the long spring afternoon, as we lay on the grass with our backs
+against the tree trunks, pretending to study, but really only watching
+the little gray denizens of the Yard intent upon their squirrel
+business, Ralph was making up stories about "Old Marse" and "Uncle Ned."
+I don't believe the chap read a line of his Stubbs on "Mediaeval
+Architecture," and he was very loath to join me when I dragged him to
+his feet and said that it was time for supper.
+
+Darkness had fallen when, two hours later, we joined the group of men
+gathered under the elms around the main entrance of Holworthy, where the
+Glee Club had assembled for one of its evening concerts. Everywhere the
+old buildings gleamed with light, for the examinations were on, and each
+window had its cluster of coatless occupants, who from time to time
+vociferously participated in mournful, lingering calls for "M-o-r-e."
+The odor of pipe smoke mingled with the sweet, humid breath of the grass
+and the subtle perfume of professors' gardens from distant Quincy
+Street; in the western sky a crescent moon, just peeping from behind the
+tower of Massachusetts Hall, shyly nestled in the tree tops; while
+between the great elms we could look, as we lay flat upon our backs,
+into an infinity of faintly twinkling worlds. Between songs you could
+hear the creaking of the pump in front of Hollis Hall, and the tinkle of
+the cup upon its chain as it was tossed heedlessly away by the thirsty
+wayfarer after he had availed himself of its humble services. Ralph and
+I, joyously entangled in the anatomy of a dozen classmates, drank in
+with rapture the never cloying melodies of "Johnnie Harvard," "The
+Miller's Daughter," "The Independent Cadets," and "A Health to King
+Charles," none of which old favorites escaped without a second
+rendition, and it was well on to nine o'clock when with a last
+
+    Here's a health to King Charles,
+    _Fill him up_ to the brim!
+
+the assemblage broke up, in spite of savage disapproval from the
+windows.
+
+Then only did we surrender to our miserable apprehension of the
+imminent, deadly "exam." in Fine Arts 4, and with the earnestly avowed
+purpose of really mastering the difference between a gargoyle and a
+lintel before we retired to rest, reluctantly mounted the stone steps
+recently vacated by our musical brethren. Our room was Number 10, the
+first as you go in on the right, and the flickering gaslight in the hall
+showed that the door, in accordance with inviolable custom, was still
+ajar.
+
+"Wait a second while I light the lamp," I remarked to Ralph, and,
+feeling my way across the room to my desk, stood there fumbling for the
+matches. As I did so I was startled to hear a voice from the darkness in
+the direction of the fireplace.
+
+"I beg your pardon," it said. "I'm afraid I have usurped your room, but
+the door was open and its invitation was too attractive to be refused."
+
+The match flared up and I saw before me Ralph's "Old Marse."
+
+"Oh--of course--certainly," I replied. He had arisen from the armchair
+in which evidently he had been listening to the singing. Then the wick
+caught, and by the increased light I saw that the man before me looked
+older than he had in the morning. His hair was almost white, and his
+face about the eyes finely wrinkled, but its expression was full of
+kindly humor, and I felt somehow that this stranger quite belonged
+there, and that it was I who was the intruder.
+
+"You see," he continued with a smile, "I feel that I have a certain
+right to be here. This used to be my room. Let me introduce myself.
+Curtis is my name--Curtis, '64."
+
+"Glad to meet you, Mr. Curtis," said I. "I'm Jarvis, 190--. Was this
+really your room? That seems an awfully long time ago."
+
+He smiled again.
+
+"I'm afraid it seems longer ago to you than to me. Would you mind if I
+should smoke a cigar with you? I'd like to ask you some things about the
+old building."
+
+"Please do," said I. "And let me introduce my roommate, Ralph Hughes."
+
+Ralph shook hands with Mr. Curtis, and we all sat down around the
+fireplace. It seemed rather inhospitable not to be able to offer him any
+refreshments, but there was only one bottle of beer in the
+_papier-mache_ fire pail in my bedroom, and it was warm at that. Hence
+we accepted our guest's cigars with some diffidence and awaited his
+first interrogation. I could see that Ralph was brimming over with
+eagerness to ask about "Uncle Ned" and a hundred other things which that
+romantic ostrich of a boy had invented during the afternoon, and I felt
+quite sure that before Mr. Curtis got away he would be obliged to pay
+heavily for the temerity of his visit by being offered up upon the altar
+as a sacrifice to Ralph's bump of acquisitiveness.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Curtis, "this was my room for four years. If you look
+over on the windowpane I think you'll find my name scratched on the
+glass in the lower left-hand corner. I wonder if that old picture of the
+Belvoir Fox Hunt, that I left, is still here?"
+
+"Oh, was that yours?" exclaimed Ralph. He darted into the bedroom and
+unhooked a framed lithograph which had been the joy and pride of the
+occupants of the room for the past four decades. Mr. Curtis turned it
+round and pointed to his name in faded ink upon the back at the head of
+a long line of indorsements, each of which represented a temporary
+possessor.
+
+"The old room seems about the same. The wall-paper has been changed, but
+that big crack over by the bedroom I remember well. And there ought to
+be a bullet hole in the frame of the door."
+
+"A bullet hole!" exclaimed Ralph and I in unison.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Curtis quietly, "a bullet hole--a thirty-two caliber, I
+should judge."
+
+Ralph seized the lamp and, holding it high above his head, carefully
+scrutinized the woodwork of the door.
+
+"There it is!" he cried eagerly. "Right in the middle; and, by George,
+there's the bullet, too! There's a story about that, I bet--isn't there?
+Who fired it? How did it get there?"
+
+He replaced the lamp, quivering with interest.
+
+"A story if you like," responded Mr. Curtis, looking curiously out of
+his laughing brown eyes at my impetuous roommate. "Yes, quite a little
+story. I could hardly tell you about it unless I told you also something
+of the man who fired the shot. Did you ever hear of Randolph? Randolph,
+'64?"
+
+The blank look which came into our faces rendered answer unnecessary.
+
+"Never heard of Randolph, '64! _Sic fama est!_ I suppose some Jones or
+Smith or Robinson now holds his place. Outside of Prex himself, there
+wasn't a better-known figure in my time. Why, he occupied this very
+room. He was my roommate."
+
+"Did he, though!" ejaculated Ralph. "How did he come to be firing a
+pistol around? Didn't he fall foul of the Yard policeman?"
+
+"There were no Yard policemen in those days," said Mr. Curtis.
+
+"What luck!" ejaculated Ralph. "Do tell us about Randolph!" he pleaded
+in the same breath.
+
+"Certainly. If you really wish it. I trust you fellows haven't any
+examinations to-morrow."
+
+"Examinations be hanged!" exclaimed Ralph.
+
+"Well," began Mr. Curtis meditatively, "I remember as if it were only
+yesterday being awakened one bright September morning in '60 by the
+sound of a rich negro voice singing in time to the scuff-scuff of the
+blacking of a pair of shoes. The sound entered the open window through
+which the autumn sun was already pouring, and penetrated the stillness
+of my bedroom, over there. I sprang out of bed and, thrusting my head
+out of the window, beheld, seated comfortably upon the topmost step, a
+comically visaged darky, clad in a pair of brown overalls and battered
+felt hat, busily engaged in putting the finishing touches to a highly
+polished pair of russet riding boots. Piled indiscriminately upon the
+sidewalk, in front of the windows of the room opposite, lay several huge
+trunks, while at the foot of the steps reposed a long wicker basket,
+before which were ranged in order of height an astonishing collection of
+riding boots and shoes of all varieties, upon which the disturber of my
+dreams had evidently been hard at work, since they shone with a luster
+glorious to behold. The negro, having critically examined the boot upon
+his arm, and evidently satisfied with its condition, arose to place it
+by the side of its mate, and in so doing caught sight of me. Instantly
+he had doffed his old gray hat and was making a grave salutation.
+
+"'Good mornin', suh.'
+
+"For a moment this vision of darky courtesy deprived me of my ordinary
+self-possession. Then his grin became contagious.
+
+"'I heard you singing and thought I'd look out to see who it was. Do you
+know who those trunks belong to?'
+
+"'Dose? Why, dose is Marse Dick's. Oh, p'r'aps you ain't met Marse
+Dick--Marse Dick Randolph, ob Randolph Hall, Virginny, suh.' He drew
+himself up with conscious pride. 'We-uns jes' come las' night. Marse
+Dick's rooms is in dar'--nodding toward the window--'en I wuz jes'
+a-lookin' ober some ob his traps. Anyt'ing I kin do fo' you, suh? Glad
+to be of any service, suh. I'se Marse Dick's boy--Moses--Moses March,
+suh.'
+
+"'Well, Moses,' I answered, 'I'm glad to make your acquaintance. You can
+tell Mr. Randolph that if he is going to be a neighbor of mine I shall
+call upon him at the earliest opportunity.'
+
+"'Yah, suh. T'ank you, suh,' responded Moses.
+
+"Just then the old bell on Harvard Hall began to clamor for the morning
+chapel service, and realizing that the master of my new acquaintance
+might be unfamiliar with college regulations, I called out:
+
+"'You'd better wake Mr. Randolph or he'll be late for chapel.'
+
+"'Call Marse Dick!' exclaimed the darky in apparent horror. 'Golly, I
+darsn't call Marse Dick 'fo' ten o'clock. Why, he'd skin me alive.
+'Sides, he tole me to bring roun' Azam 'bout ten o'clock.'
+
+"'Azam?' I queried.
+
+"'Yah, suh; Azam's Marse Dick's hunter. Bes' Kentucky blood, suh. Sired
+by ole Marse's stallion Satan, out o' White Clover. Dar's a hunter fo'
+you, suh. You jes' ought ter see Marse Dick a-follerin' de hounds.
+'Scuse me, suh, fo' keepin' you a-waitin'. No, suh, t'ank you, suh; I
+won't forgit de card, suh.'
+
+"Hastily retiring to my bedroom I threw on my clothes and then hurried
+off to chapel. The shades of Number 9, the room across the hall, were
+still tightly drawn."
+
+Mr. Curtis stopped and relit his cigar. The yellow sash curtains on
+their sagging wires softly bellied in the night breeze, and through the
+open windows came the distant chanting of the Institute march and the
+tinkle of the pump.
+
+"This very room!" repeated the old gentleman half to himself. "And this
+very window!" His voice sank dreamily and he seemed for the moment to
+have forgotten our presence. "Those were happy times. As I look back
+over the forty years, the time I spent here seems one long vista of
+glorious autumn days. The same old red-brick buildings; the same green
+velvet sward; that old tolling bell; the gravel walks; the pump--I
+remember there always used to be a damp place about ten feet square
+about the pump; the old creaking stairs outside this very door; the
+quiet evenings on the steps where those jolly chaps were singing; the
+long talks before this very fireplace under the lamplight with Dick; and
+then that fatal rupture with the South! How little it means to you! Why,
+it is isn't even a dream. It's just tradition. I suppose you feel
+it--you can't help feeling it. But if you had sat here, as I did, with
+the fellows going away, and the company drilling on the Delta over
+there--what do you call it now: the Delta?--and had shared the feverish
+enthusiasm which we all felt, tempered by the sorrow of losing our
+comrades; the little scenes when they went off one by one, and we gave
+each fellow a sword or some knickknack to carry with him; and the long,
+sad, anxious days when you waited breathless for news--and then, when it
+came, often as not, had felt a pang at your heartstrings because some
+fellow that you loved had got it at Bull Run, or Antietam, or Cold
+Harbor! No, you can never know what that meant, and thank God you can't.
+The rest is about the same. I see you have squirrels in the Yard now. We
+never had any squirrels. I suppose you sit in these windows and watch
+'em by the hour. Busier than you, I guess.
+
+"But apart from the squirrels and the new buildings, the old place is
+about the same--bigger, more imposing, of course, with its modern
+equipment of museums and laboratories and all that, and best of all that
+splendid monument with its transept full of memories. But it's not the
+same to me. It's only when I turn toward the corner by Hollis and
+Stoughton, as I did this afternoon, with Holden Chapel just peeping in
+between, and the big elms swinging overhead, and, shutting my ears to
+the rattle of the electric cars, listen to the sound of the same old
+clanging bell, with the sun gilding the tree trunks and slanting along
+the gravel pathways, that I can call back those dear old days. Then, it
+seems as if I were back in '61."
+
+In the pause which followed Ralph volunteered that we all did feel
+somewhat of the same thing, only in a minor degree. He had often
+imagined the fellows going off to the war and had wondered if it was
+anything like what he supposed. He pattered on in his own peculiar way
+trying to put our guest at ease and, as he expressed it later, to cheer
+him up. It would never have done, he averred later in his own defense,
+to let "Old Marse" get groggy over the "sunlit elms." However, Mr.
+Curtis changed the tone himself.
+
+"And now to come to that first time that I ever saw Randolph. I had just
+come from tea and was sauntering along the Yard in front of Stoughton
+when I became conscious that my customary place upon the steps, out
+there, had been usurped. The trunks and paraphernalia of the morning had
+disappeared, and although Moses was absent, I knew somehow that this
+could be no other than 'Marse Dick.' He was tall, with muscular back and
+shoulders, and his clothes of dark-blue serge hung on him as if they had
+grown there. His feet were encased in long-toed vermilion morocco
+slippers, and the other elements of his costume which caught my eye were
+a yellow corduroy waistcoat, very faddish for those days, and a flowing
+red cravat. A broad-brimmed black slouch hat was well pulled down over
+his eyes, while from beneath protruded a long brierwood pipe from which
+voluminous clouds of smoke rolled forth upon the evening air without
+causing any annoyance, so it seemed, to an enormous mastiff, who sat
+contentedly between his master's knees, blinking his eyes and thumping
+his tail in response to the caresses of the hand upon his head. As I
+drew near the dog stalked over to meet me, sniffing good-naturedly, and
+the stranger stepped down, removed his hat, and held out his hand with a
+smile of greeting.
+
+"'Mr. Curtis, I believe, suh?' he said in a low but agreeable drawl. 'My
+boy Moses gave me the card you were kind enough to send by him this
+morning. We are neighbors, are we not?'
+
+"I had rather expected to see the face of a dandy, but instead a pair of
+black eyes under almost beetling black brows burned steadily into mine.
+He looked nearer thirty than twenty, and this appearance of maturity was
+heightened by a tiny goatee. His smile was straightforward and honest,
+the forehead, under the curly black locks, low and broad, the nose
+aquiline and the skin dark and ruddy. Yes, he was a very pretty figure
+of a man--as handsome a lad as one would care to meet on a summer's
+day--part pirate, part Spanish grandee, part student, and every inch a
+gentleman. Later there were plenty of fellows who said that no man could
+dress like that (we were all soberly arrayed in those days) and be a
+gentleman; or that no one could come flaunting his horses and dogs and
+niggers into Cambridge, as Randolph undoubtedly did, and be one; or
+could parade around the Yard smoking real cigars and keep dueling
+pistols on his mantel and rum under the bed, as Dick did, and be one.
+But he was, boys, he was!
+
+"Perhaps he did talk too much about his niggers and his acres; too much
+about his old mansion and its flower gardens, about stables, fox-hunting
+and fiddlers--what of it? The point was that we were a lot of
+soul-starved, psalm-singing Yankees, talking through our noses and
+counting our pennies; while Randolph was a warm-hearted, hot-headed,
+fire-eating, cursing Virginian.
+
+"We shook hands and I joined him on the steps. It was just such a night
+as this--calm and sweet, the stars peeping through the boughs, and the
+windows shining. And that's how I like to think of him.
+
+"He'd never been away from home before except to go to Paris. He talked
+like a feudal baron, seeming to think that life was just one long
+holiday; that no one had to earn a living; that things in general were
+constructed by an amiable Deity solely for our delectation; and there
+was in his attitude a recklessness and disregard for established usages
+that left me totally at a loss. Imagine a fellow like myself taught to
+regard card playing, the theater, and dancing as mortal sins, with a
+father who believed in infant damnation and predestination; a fellow
+brought up to gaze in silent admiration at Charles Sumner; and who was
+allowed a silver half-dollar a week pocket money--imagine me, I say,
+sitting out there with this free-thinking, free-hating, free-handed
+slave owner! Why, I loved him with my whole heart inside of five
+minutes. God bless my soul, how my father used to frown when they told
+him about my new friend's latest escapade! But with all his freedom of
+ideas he was as simple as a child. I don't believe the fellow ever had a
+mean or an impure thought. I believe that as I believe in God.
+
+"Well, I told him about my life--what there was to tell--and he told me
+about his; how his father had died three years before, leaving him the
+owner of very large estates and a great many hundred slaves--I forget
+how many. His mother was still living down on the plantation. They were
+Roman Catholics--'Papists,' my father called them. The doctrines of the
+Church, however, didn't seem to bother him at all, that I could see. His
+father had evidently been the big man of the county, and had shared all
+his sports and studies, cramming him with the most extraordinary amount
+of miscellaneous reading and curious Chesterfieldian ideas of honor and
+manners.
+
+"I can remember, now, just how he described the old place to me, sitting
+out there on the steps. He thought it the finest home in all the land.
+Perhaps it was. I never had the heart to go there afterwards. One thing
+I remember was a grand old garden laid out in terraces, the walks
+bordered by box two hundred years old and as high as your head, where
+little red and green snakes curled up and sunned themselves--a garden
+full of old-fashioned flowers and fountains and sundials, and a water
+garden, too, with lilies of every sort; and there was a family graveyard
+right on the place where they had all been buried--where his father had
+been--with a ghost--a female ghost--named Shirley, I recall that, who
+flitted among the trees on misty mornings. Oh, it was a great picture!
+I'll never see that old place. Perhaps it's just as well. It couldn't
+have been as beautiful as he painted it. You see I'd been born in a
+twenty-one-foot red-brick house on Beacon Hill.
+
+"Then as we were sitting there on the steps, I broad awake but in
+fairyland, out from under the trees shuffled Moses's quaint, crooked
+figure. Wanted to know if eb'ryt'ing was all right with young Marse.
+Azam and Bhurtpore was fixed first-class, suh. An' he'd done got a
+little cubby-hole down in the stable to sleep in. Wuz dere any orders
+to-night, suh? An' what time should he bring Azam roun' in de mornin'?
+
+"'Go 'long with Moses, Jim,' said Randolph. The dog obediently arose,
+stretched himself, and descended the steps.
+
+"'Good night, Marse Dick,' said Moses.
+
+"'Good night, Moses,' replied Dick. And the two, the darky and the dog,
+disappeared under the shadow of the elms."
+
+Mr. Curtis knocked the ash from his extinct cigar and relit it at the
+top of the lamp chimney.
+
+"I should just like to have seen him," remarked Ralph enthusiastically.
+"And to think that he really lived in this room. How did that happen?
+And which bedroom did he have?"
+
+"The one on the left, nearest the door," replied Mr. Curtis.
+
+Over in Stoughton some fool was strumming a banjo, singing "I'm a
+soldier now, Lizette"--rottenly. And some one else, of the same mind as
+myself apparently, leaned out of the window in the room above us and
+holloed:
+
+"Oh, quit that! Try being a freshman a while! Lizette won't care."
+
+Evidently the singer decided to follow the advice thus gratuitously
+given, for the banjo ceased. Then came one of those long silences when
+you felt instinctively that in a moment something might happen to spoil
+the excellent opportunity of it, throw us off the key as it were, or
+break its placid surface like an inconsequent pebble. But Ralph, in a
+singularly moderate tone, as if leading the theme gently that it might
+not become startled and break away, continued:
+
+"You said something about dueling pistols, you know."
+
+Mr. Curtis looked at him with that same quizzical smile which my
+roommate had called forth before.
+
+"That's it. All you want is gunpowder, treason, and plot. My feeble
+attempt at character sketching has been a failure. Well, now to your
+dessert."
+
+"You are entirely wrong," said Ralph, rather mortified. "Randolph must
+have been a perfect corker. I wish we had some chaps like that in 19--.
+But the Southerners nowadays all seem to go to Chapel Hill, or William
+and Mary, or Tulane, or some of those God-forsaken places where I don't
+believe they even have a ball nine. Only, naturally, I wanted to make
+sure of the bullet hole. You see," he added cunningly, "that bullet hole
+is the thing that links us together. That's how we'll know when you've
+gone that it wasn't all a dream."
+
+Mr. Curtis laughed outright.
+
+"You're a funny boy," said he. "Well, two or three days later I asked
+Randolph to room with me. The matter was easily adjusted, and Moses
+spent nearly a week in fixing up this den here with what he called
+'Marse Dick's contraptions.' Save the old picture there, there's not a
+thing in the place that suggests the room as it looked then. From
+extreme meagerness, if not poverty, of furniture it sprang into
+opulence--almost ornately magnificent it seemed to me with my
+conservative New England tastes and still more conservative New England
+pocketbook. I remember a silver-mounted revolver was always lying on one
+end of the mantelpiece, while in the center was a rosewood case of
+pistols, curious affairs, with long octagonal barrels, and stocks
+inlaid with mother-of-pearl and silver.
+
+"Randolph soon became a celebrity. He could no more avoid being the most
+conspicuous figure in Cambridge than he could help addressing his
+acquaintances as 'suh.' And in spite of his natural reserve, a quality
+which was curiously combined with entire ease in conversation, he soon
+acquired a large acquaintance and rather a following.
+
+"Needless to say, I became his almost inseparable companion. Dick's
+second hunter, Bhurtpore, had been placed entirely at my service, and
+scarce a day passed that autumn without our scouring the country roads
+for miles around, followed by three or four of the hounds. Jim, the
+mastiff, while we were absent on these excursions, spent his time lying
+beneath the ebony table in 10 Holworthy awaiting our return.
+
+"Randolph tried unsuccessfully to organize a hunt. It soon appeared that
+Azam and Bhurtpore were the only hunters in Cambridge, and polo had not
+yet been introduced into this country. Frequently we would take a circle
+of twenty miles in the course of an afternoon, galloping up quiet old
+Brattle Street, out around Fresh Pond, until we struck the Concord
+turnpike, which we followed over Belmont Hill, down past an old yellow
+farmhouse with blue blinds, at the juncture of the highway to Lexington
+and what we called the 'Willow Road,' and then under the overarching
+boughs, through soggy fields full of bright clumps of alders, until the
+fading light of the afternoon warned us that it was time to turn our
+horses' heads in the direction of Cambridge."
+
+"We have a Polo Club," said Ralph, "but we haven't any horses."
+
+"Well, now, to get down to your bullet hole," continued Mr. Curtis.
+"Hazing, of course, was an ordinary affair, and it was not uncommon to
+see a pitched battle of fisticuffs going on behind some college
+building.
+
+"Now, mind you, the hazing was not done by the best men, but by the
+worst, and it was always the tougher elements in the sophomore class
+that availed themselves of this method of showing that they were feeling
+their oats. Every one of us looked forward, sooner or later, to getting
+his dose, and any freshman who smoked cigars and kept a nigger might
+have expected it as a matter of course. But Dick was a chap that did
+just as he pleased, and did it with such a confounded air--the '_bel
+air_,' you know--that you'd have thought we were all a parcel of
+cavaliers walking in a palace garden. I don't blame them for feeling
+that he ought to be taken down a peg, when you take everything into
+consideration.
+
+"For example, imagine his kissing old Mrs. Podridge's hand at a faculty
+tea! Of course the antiquated thing liked it, but it was so conspicuous.
+And worse than all, inviting Prex into his room to have a cigar and a
+glass of Madeira! Think of that! The queer part of it was that Prex
+nearly accepted the invitation.
+
+"'Why not?' said Dick, in answer to my expostulation. 'Do you mean that
+in the North one gentleman cannot, without criticism, extend to another
+the hospitality of his own room?'
+
+"It was all in the point of view. What could you say?
+
+"Some carping fellows spread a canard that Randolph was trying to
+introduce slavery into Cambridge. Dick did not even notice it
+sufficiently to direct Moses to display his manumission papers. Of
+course there was a deal of talking about him, mostly good-natured
+chaff, and had it not been for Watkins I doubt if anything would have
+happened. This person was an ill-conditioned, dissatisfied fellow who
+had come from a small town in Rhode Island with a considerable amount of
+the initial velocity arising out of local prestige, which, wearing off,
+left him in a miserable state of doubt as to what to do to rehabilitate
+himself in the garments of distinction. As you would say, he 'had it in'
+for Randolph for no reason in the world. Dick was just too good-looking,
+too prosperous, too independent--that was all. He had an idea, I
+suppose, that if he could knock the statue off its pedestal he might
+perhaps occupy the vacant situation.
+
+"One evening I inquired carelessly of Randolph what he should do if the
+sophomores tried to haze him. He replied, nonchalantly, that he should
+exercise the sacred right of self-defense as circumstances might
+require. If anyone tried to interfere with him he must take the
+consequences. In certain situations the only thing to do was to shoot
+your aggressor. I looked up to see if he were joking, but his face was
+entirely serious.
+
+"Another chap who was sitting there laughed and slapped his knee. I can
+see now that it was just this kind of thing that gave Randolph's enemies
+some color for saying that he was a sort of crazy fool. Perhaps I was
+playing Sancho Panza to his Don Quixote, after all.
+
+"Presently a lot of other fellows joined us, and by the time Moses
+appeared we had disposed of a couple of bottles of old Port, from under
+Dick's bed, and were loudly declaiming our loyalty to the Old Dominion
+and consigning the class of '63 to eternal torment. In the midst of the
+uproar some one grabbed Moses and shoved him upon the steps, shouting
+'Speech! Speech!' What put the idea into his head I can't
+imagine--probably antislavery speeches in the square which he had
+overheard.
+
+"'Gem'men,' he began, 'I'se not 'customed ter makin' speeches outa
+meetin', 'specially ter gem'men like you-all, but I'se got suthin' I'se
+been a-studyin' ober an' what's a-worryin' me, what I'd like ter say.
+It's des' 'bout Marse Dick. I des' come from down de street whar I done
+hear some gem'men a-speechifyin' 'bout him an' me. Dey says' (his voice
+rose indignantly) 'dat Marse Dick didn't hab no business fo' ter hab me
+here. Dat he didn't hab no right ter hab me work fo' him nohow, or Old
+Marse; an' dey calls Marse Dick some mighty mean names. Now I des' 'ud
+like ter know ef I ain't Marse Dick's boy an' why he ain't got no right
+fo' ter hab me work fo' him. Didn't I work fo' Old Marse 'fo' he died,
+an' didn' my ole man work fo' him, an' ain't I allus been a-workin' fo'
+Ole Miss and Missy Dorothy? Him an' me's been bred up togedder; I'se
+been a-totin' with him eber since he wuz born, ain't I, Marse Dick?'
+
+"He paused amid a dead silence. None of us spoke. I looked at Randolph
+and saw that he was gripping his pipe hard between his teeth.
+
+"'Well, gem'men, I doesn't want leab Marse Dick, ef I is a free nigger,
+an' I doesn't want you ter let 'em tek me away from him, cuz he got no
+one else ter look out fo' him, an' Azam an' Bur'pore an' de dogs, an'
+Ole Miss say when I lef' de Hall how I was neber to leab Marse
+Dick--nohow. An', gem'men, you won't let 'em, will yer?'
+
+"He waited for our assurance. Oh, the constraint of generations of New
+England character! It was so difficult for us to say what we felt. Dick
+was staring out under the trees with glistening eyes. Some fellow made a
+few halting remarks and said we'd stick up for him and Moses to the last
+man, and then we all pounded Moses on the back, and Dick got out some
+more Port and we had another toast, but something had hit us hard."
+
+Mr. Curtis closed his eyes and leaned back his head for a moment as if
+trying to recall some forgotten memory.
+
+"The next evening," he continued presently, "we were both sitting before
+the fire. Jim lay as usual beneath the table, his head pointing toward
+the door. The lamps had not yet been lit and the windows, I remember,
+were open, for the day had been warm--one of those Cambridge
+Indian-summer days. From the lower end of the Yard came a confused
+murmur of voices, mingled with occasional shouts. The voices grew
+louder, and shortly there came a loud cheer, followed by the tramp of
+many feet. I stepped to the window and saw through the dusk a cluster of
+men moving slowly up the sidewalk by Massachusetts Hall. In a moment I
+realized that the time might be at hand for the application of my
+roommate's recently declared principles. With a distinct feeling of
+apprehension I drew in my head and was about hurriedly to suggest a
+walk, when there came the sound of flying feet, and Moses, with scared
+face and starting eyes, burst into the room.
+
+"'Oh, Marse Dick,' he cried in a trembling voice, 'dey's a-comin' ter
+kill yer an' tek me away from yer. Dey's goin' ter hurt yer drefful!
+Doan' let 'em do it, Marse Curtis!'
+
+"Dick had risen quietly and was now engaged in lighting the lamp upon
+the center table, while I shut and locked both door and windows. Jim got
+up from his place beneath the table and watched us uneasily. The noise
+of the crowd grew nearer. Then suddenly I heard a sharp click behind me
+and turned to see Randolph holding one of the silver-mounted pistols
+which he had taken from its case upon the mantel. He was calmly engaged
+in loading.
+
+"'Look here, Dick!' I cried, 'for Heaven's sake put that back!'
+
+"Before I could say another word our assailants entered the hallway of
+the building. There came a babel of voices, followed by a loud pounding
+upon the door. We returned no answer. Then there were shouts of:
+
+"'Run him out!'
+
+"'Liberty forever!'
+
+"'No slaves in Harvard!'
+
+"'Smash in the door!'
+
+"This last suggestion was accompanied by a yell and a rush against the
+door, which swayed inward, and, the lock snapping, burst open. There was
+an instant's hesitation on the part of the men outside; then they began
+to surge through the narrow doorway. Randolph quickly raised his pistol.
+
+"'Back!' he shouted. 'Leave the room!' Instinctively they retreated. I
+can see them now, crowding out through the doorway. Just here, where I
+am sitting, in the full light of the lamp, stood Randolph, the barrel of
+his pistol glistening wickedly. There was a cold gleam in his eyes and a
+drawn look about his mouth. Before him stood Jim, tail switching, and
+lips curled back in a snarl that showed all his sharp teeth, while in
+the background cowered Moses, fear pictured upon every feature, his
+eyeballs gleaming white in the shadowy doorway of the bedroom.
+
+"'I warn you, gentlemen,' said Randolph haughtily. 'I order you to leave
+the room. I shall shoot the first man that crosses my threshold.'
+
+"'Bosh!' cried a voice. 'Hear him!'
+
+"'D----d slave owner!' shouted another.
+
+"'Throw him out!'
+
+"Watkins thrust himself forward.
+
+"'Bah! I'm not afraid of any rum-drinking Southerner! He hasn't the
+nerve to shoot!'
+
+"'Look out!' called some one.
+
+"There was a sudden rush from outside and Watkins either sprang or was
+pushed, probably the latter, through the door. At the same instant there
+was a flash, a report, a snarl, a loud cry, a tumult of feet. The smoke
+cleared slowly away, showing the door empty. Across the threshold lay a
+sophomore, while over him stood Jim, motionless, with his feet on the
+man's chest and his teeth close to his face.
+
+"Randolph laid the smoking pistol upon the table and pointed grimly to a
+splintered crack in the strip above the door.
+
+"'Come here, Jim!' he called. The dog unwillingly drew away, still eying
+the man on the floor, who, finding himself unhurt, began to blubber
+loudly.
+
+"'You are free, suh,' remarked Randolph scornfully. 'Don't let me detain
+you.'
+
+"Watkins slowly and fearfully scrambled to his feet, and then, like a
+flash, vanished into the darkness.
+
+"'Golly, Marse Dick,' exclaimed Moses in an awestruck voice, 'I thought
+you'd killed that gem'man, sho'!'
+
+[Illustration: "'Back,' he shouted."]
+
+"'Give us a glass of brandy, Moses!' said his master, extinguishing the
+light. 'Where are they, Jack?'
+
+"I raised the window and looked out. The sophomores were gathered in an
+excited group about Jim's victim, gazing at our window, and talking
+loudly among themselves. Randolph reloaded the pistol and stepped to the
+door.
+
+"'Pleased to see you at any time, gentlemen,' he said. 'But just now I
+want to go to bed and don't like noise. Don't let me keep you. While I
+sometimes miss a single bird I'm not so bad at a covey. Now off with
+you!'
+
+"Again he whipped up the pistol into position. It looked even more
+wicked in the starlight than it had done inside. With one accord the
+crowd broke and ran, Watkins well in the lead.
+
+"Randolph came inside, lighted the lamp, and tossed off the brandy.
+
+"'By Gad, suh,' he drawled with a laugh. 'They really thought they were
+going to be murdered. You Yankees don't seem gifted with any sense of
+humor. Here, Moses, run around to my friends' rooms and give them my
+compliments and invite them all to the tavern for a bowl of punch.'"
+
+Ralph clapped his hands together.
+
+"Right in this very room!" he cried, "right in this room!" Then he
+jumped to his feet and again critically examined the door. "Just as
+fresh as ever!" he remarked delightedly. "Why, but that Randolph was a
+ripper! And to think it all happened right between these four walls and
+we never have heard a word about it before!"
+
+"Tell us some more about him," said I. "What did the faculty say?"
+
+"The faculty considered the case," replied Mr. Curtis, "but we never
+heard from them in regard to it. Of course the story got all around the
+college and Watkins was unmercifully guyed. But he had his turn."
+
+"How was that?" inquired Ralph. "Do go on."
+
+"I don't know," returned Mr. Curtis. "What do you think of Randolph?"
+
+"The best ever!" pronounced Ralph with conviction.
+
+"It's hard to resist such an enthusiastic audience--and so insistent,"
+smiled Mr. Curtis. "Well, they let him alone after that, and he pursued
+the even tenor of his way and increased in wisdom and stature and in
+favor--at least with man.
+
+"I can only tell you about Randolph's leaving college, and that takes me
+to those sadder times of which I spoke. It was late in the spring, when
+none of us had any longer time or inclination to think of college
+distinctions or college jealousies. We were all overwhelmed at the
+thought of the impending conflict. Already most of the Southerners had
+departed for their homes.
+
+"You see, I'm trying to give you an impression--a picture of a chap I
+believe to have been one of the truest gentlemen that ever came here--I
+feel you're entitled to know whose room it is you occupy and to share in
+these memories, which are, after all, the best thing left in my lonely
+old bachelor existence. When I tell you the rest and how we parted never
+to meet again you won't be able to get a true understanding of it unless
+you can grasp the real spirit of the times, the environment, the
+intensity of the whole affair.
+
+"Here I was rooming with a flamboyant Southerner who fully intended to
+enlist as soon as his native State should declare herself, when four of
+my uncles had already joined the Union army. Of course I wanted to go,
+but my father wouldn't hear of it. The whole miserable business only
+drew Randolph and me the closer together. I do not think that his
+performance with the pistol had increased his popularity; in fact, the
+sympathies of the undergraduates seemed on the whole to be with Watkins,
+and the general sentiment that he was the aggrieved party. If Dick had
+taken his medicine in good part it would doubtless have been better for
+him in the end. You see, it gave his slanderers a handle and they made
+the most of it. Neither did he abate any of those idiosyncrasies of
+which I have spoken, but simply out of bravado, I suppose, rather let
+himself go. His cravats increased in brilliancy, his waistcoats
+multiplied their colors, and he was always careering around on Azam
+through the Yard and Harvard Square. He had a trick of riding suddenly
+out of nowhere, and appearing at recitations on horseback, turning his
+beast over to Moses at the door until the lecture had concluded. I have
+known Randolph at this period to keep his horse waiting an hour in order
+that he might ride him the length of the Yard. Don't get the impression
+that I am criticising him unfavorably; I am merely endeavoring to give
+you the point of view of the outsiders who didn't like him. By April the
+class was pretty evenly divided on the Randolph question. To half of us
+he was a rather Quixotic hero--to the rest a sort of cheap _poseur_.
+Watkins was untiring in his innuendoes, and in this he was aided to a
+considerable extent by the bitterness of the feeling between North and
+South. Of course, everything possible was being done to conciliate the
+Southern States, and it was the aim of the entire North to avert if
+possible an open rupture. At the theaters the most popular music was
+the old Southern airs and plantation melodies, and the audiences
+conscientiously cheered when 'Dixie' was played. Naturally this was
+vastly gratifying to Randolph, who failed, it seemed to me, to realize
+its significance. I don't think that anyone really believed actual
+hostilities would occur.
+
+"Then like a lash across our faces came the firing on Sumter. The whole
+North gasped and then the blood boiled in our veins. Right here under
+these trees the war fever burned hottest.
+
+"That night will never be forgotten by the class of '64. A huge
+gathering of students filled the Yard, lights twinkled in all the
+windows, torches flared here and there among the tree trunks, while
+between Stoughton Hall and where Thayer now stands, just in front of
+these very windows, the fellows concentrated in a solid mass, cheering
+the Union again and again, as flights of rockets burst high above the
+trees, sending down their floating canopies of sparks. Into that big
+elm, out there, some of the seniors were hoisting a transparency,
+bearing upon one side the words, 'The Constitution and Enforcement of
+the Laws,' and upon the other, 'Harvard for War.'
+
+"I was sitting in this window--Randolph in that. Perhaps I should have
+been out on the grass shouting with the others, but the loneliest fellow
+in Cambridge was at my side. Poor old chap! No wonder he was gloomily
+silent. Outside the cheering continued and the rockets roared away over
+the tops of the old buildings, until the students, forming into an
+irregular procession, marched away singing patriotic airs, some to go to
+their rooms, but most to pass the remainder of the evening at the
+tavern, discussing the President's proclamation.
+
+"Dick got up quietly and came over to the window. 'Jack,' he said
+sadly, 'the game's about up with me. I can't stay here any longer. Now
+that war is an actuality, I must go home, and the sooner the better.'
+
+"'But Virginia hasn't seceded,' I answered, 'and most likely won't. If
+she does there will be time enough for you to go.'
+
+"'Virginia _will_ secede,' he replied, 'and blood will be shed in this
+cursed quarrel within two weeks. I can't stay here when I might be at
+home helping on the cause. I shall think you are acting from interested
+motives,' he added, smiling.
+
+"'What does your mother say?'
+
+"'That's the trouble. She wants me to stay.'
+
+"I read the letter which he handed me. It was plain enough. The good
+lady desired to keep her only son out of harm's way just as long as
+possible, although through it all I could perceive her consciousness of
+the futility of any idea of preventing a Randolph from taking an active
+part, in the event of the secession of his native State. I urged
+parental duty and the foolishness of taking for granted something that
+might not happen at all. He, of course, was keen for fighting anyhow,
+but he was prepared to stand by his State's decision.
+
+"Of course, you couldn't blame a woman for wanting to keep her only son
+from throwing his life away. From the very first I had a presentiment
+that that was what it would amount to, and I was for doing all I could
+to help her carry out her purpose.
+
+"But as the days dragged on it became harder and harder to keep Randolph
+in Cambridge. You see, by that time he was practically the only
+Southerner left there, and he found himself in a strangely awkward, not
+to say painful, position. Even some of his friends, while their manner
+toward him remained the same, ceased to come as frequently to our room.
+
+"We kept trying to deceive ourselves all along about the seriousness of
+the crisis. None of us did much studying--Randolph, none at all. He rode
+about the country or sat in his room reading his last letters from the
+Hall, fretting to get away from Cambridge. Nor did his continued
+presence pass uncommented upon by the more fiery of our student
+patriots.
+
+"Several anonymous letters suggesting that his presence in Cambridge was
+undesirable had been left at his room, while, quite accidentally of
+course, it frequently happened that the sidewalk in front of our windows
+was selected as the forum for vehement denunciation of the South, of
+slavery and slaveholders. Randolph gripped his pipe grimly between his
+teeth and held his head higher than ever. Once he actually tried to
+address a meeting in front of the post office on the Inherent Right of
+Secession. But he was groaned down. While few of us had been
+Abolitionists we were now all Unionists, and '_Harvard was for war_.'
+
+"After this experience I noticed a change in his demeanor, for there
+were among that shouting, hissing crowd several who had been his
+friends. Although he must have known that Virginia's supposed loyalty
+was but a pretext on the part of his mother to keep him out of danger,
+his devotion to her was such that he remained without a word to bear the
+whips and scorns of time and the humiliation of his position, waiting
+manfully until the official action of the government of Virginia should
+set him free.
+
+"It must have been exquisite torture for a chap of his high spirit to be
+obliged to hear his principles and those of his father denounced on
+every side, and the South that he really loved with all his heart
+charged with treachery and infidelity.
+
+"In those days the top story of Dane was used by the upper classmen and
+the members of the Law School as a debating hall, their discussions
+being frequently marked by personalities and a bitterness of invective
+unparalleled even in the national Senate and House of Representatives.
+After the firing upon Sumter these meetings grew more and more
+turbulent, and were held almost daily.
+
+"Randolph had at last made up his mind that he would wait but a week
+longer at the latest, and had notified his mother of his decision. He
+intended to leave Cambridge on April 18th, and nothing that I could say
+had been able to shake his determination. I am inclined to believe that
+the action of Virginia on the question of secession would not have made
+any difference to him at this time. We had watched the departure of the
+Sixth and Eighth Massachusetts regiments for Washington, and you can
+easily imagine how irksome his enforced inaction must have been. All his
+arrangements had been completed and he and Moses were to leave Boston on
+an early morning train for the South.
+
+"The morning of the 17th dawned clear and brilliant. I left Dick and
+Moses packing books and dismantling the room, and walked across the Yard
+to a recitation in Massachusetts Hall. After that I remember I attended
+a lecture in some scientific course, chemistry, I believe, in
+University, and about eleven o'clock wandered over to the square to see
+if there were any fresh war bulletins. A group of excited people was
+gathered about the telegraph office gesticulating toward a strip of
+foolscap pasted in the window, and it was really unnecessary for me to
+push my way among them and read what was written there: '_Virginia
+secedes_.' The words had almost a familiar look--we had waited for them
+so long.
+
+"With the intention of telling Randolph the news I hurried across the
+square. I did not get far, however. Just on the other side, tethered to
+a post in front of the door of Dane Hall, stood Azam. He whinnied when
+he saw me, for by this time we were old friends. His presence there
+could only mean that Dick was inside, and with a qualm of apprehension I
+pushed open the door and started up the stairs. From above came the hum
+of voices followed by confusion and silence. Then as I reached the
+landing I caught the tones of a familiar voice--Randolph's--and hurrying
+up the flight leading to the second story breathlessly opened the door
+into the hall. It was packed with students and hot almost to
+suffocation, while the grins on most of the faces of those near me
+showed plainly the state of their feelings toward the speaker.
+
+"In the middle of the room, in a sort of cleared space, stood Randolph,
+dressed with his customary braggadocio in riding boots, spurs, and
+gauntlets. Whip and hat lay before him on the floor. The crowd were
+jeering, and his face was flushed with an angry red--a thing I'd never
+seen before.
+
+"'Virginia has seceded,' he shouted, challenging the whole room with a
+defiant glance. 'I thank God for it! Had she remained three days longer
+in the Union I should have felt my native State humiliated. She has been
+the last to take up the sword against oppression. Now may she be the
+last to lay it down. For the last decade the rights of Virginia and of
+the South have been trampled under foot. She has borne slander and
+insult. She has bowed to an unlawful interpretation of the Constitution
+and unjust administration of the laws. She has seen her lawful property
+snatched from her outstretched hands. They tell me she has rebelled--I
+rejoice that Virginia has resisted! Who dares say that a sovereign
+State, who by her assent alone was joined to a union of other States,
+has not the right to separate herself from them when such a partnership
+has become intolerable!'
+
+"He was being continually interrupted by hisses and groans and sarcastic
+comments from all sides, but he continued unabashed:
+
+"'Do you realize that you who once threw off the yoke of England have
+yourselves become oppressors and are trampling the sacred rights of
+others wantonly under foot? That you have become destroyers of liberty?
+Virginia!--Virginia--' His voice broke. Absurdly theatrical as it all
+was, I believe he had some of the fellows with him. Then Watkins
+shouted:
+
+'She is a traitor!'
+
+"'That's a lie!' replied the orator fiercely.
+
+"I never quite knew how Watkins had the nerve, but I suppose he thought
+that Randolph was down and out, and he may have really believed that
+poor Dick was just a swaggering braggart, after all. Anyhow, before any
+of us realized what had happened, he had sprung forward and struck
+Randolph in the face with his cap, exclaiming:
+
+'Take that, you _Reb_!'
+
+"An extraordinary stillness fell upon us. I thought for a moment that
+Randolph would fall, for he turned deathly pale and his hands twitched
+as if he were going to have an epileptic fit. He swayed, recovered
+himself, tried to speak, choked, and finally said in a hoarse whisper:
+
+"'I suppose you understand what that means?'
+
+"Then in the silence he stooped, picked up his whip and hat, and looking
+straight before him strode out of the hall. I followed automatically.
+
+"The door behind us shut out a tremendous roar of laughter, in which
+could be distinguished cries of 'You're done for now, Watkins!' 'Better
+make your will, old chap!' We were hardly clear of the building before
+the whole meeting adjourned with a rush, pounding down the stairs with
+such impetuosity that it is a wonder they didn't carry the rickety
+structure along with them.
+
+"Shades of John Harvard and Cotton Mather! A duel was to be fought in
+Harvard College! The rumor flew from the college pump to the tavern; it
+sprang from lip to lip--from window to window; sneaked by professors'
+houses in silence; and burst into garrulity upon the steps of Hollis and
+Stoughton. If you had asked one from the jocular groups gathered in
+front of the different buildings and upon the gravel paths what was to
+pay, he would probably have replied with a twinkle in his eye,
+'_Virginia has seceded._'
+
+"I must confess to you that I felt like a fool. It was the same feeling
+that I had experienced in a lesser degree when my cavalier had kissed
+the hand of old Mrs. Podridge, but now it was clear I was playing Sancho
+Panza in earnest. I had followed Dick to the room and pleaded with him
+in vain. He was impervious to argument. There could be only one thing
+done under the circumstances. There was no question about it at all. He
+failed utterly to comprehend my alleged attitude in the case, or at any
+rate pretended to do so. Why hadn't he thrashed Watkins then and there?
+Simply because by so doing he'd have made himself nothing more nor less
+than a common brawler. It was not a case of a street fight, but of
+insulting a man's honor.
+
+"Of course I might have thrown him over. But somehow I couldn't leave
+Randolph to face the music all alone, and I knew well enough that
+laughter would be far harder for him to bear than the actual hatred or
+disapproval of his associates. And then he was going away the following
+morning and I might never see him again.
+
+"I'd hoped, and in fact expected, that Watkins would laugh in my face
+when I submitted Randolph's challenge. It would have been quite in
+keeping with the fellow's character and past performances, but he took
+the wind entirely out of my sails by the gravity with which he listened
+to what I had to say, and unhesitatingly chose '_pistols at twenty
+paces_.' Up to that time I'd felt merely that Dick had made an ass of
+himself and had rather unnecessarily dragged me into it, but now the
+other aspect of the thing--that I might become the accessory to a
+homicide--caused me a feeling of revolt against having anything to do
+with the affair.
+
+"I completed my arrangements with Watkins's second, a fellow named
+Scott, as quickly as possible, leaving to him most of the details. And
+then Dick and I took a long ride together in the country, supping at a
+farmhouse and not reaching home until after nine o'clock.
+
+"Randolph roused me from fitful slumbers early next morning by holding
+the lamp to my face, and I saw that he was fully dressed.
+
+"'You haven't been to bed at all!' I cried in reproach.
+
+"'I had no time. I've been writing,' he replied, as he replaced the
+lamp in the study. A dim suggestion of the dawn came through the
+windows, and the complete silence was broken only by the snapping of the
+fire which Moses had kindled and over which he was boiling coffee. While
+I hurried into my clothes Dick reentered my room with a packet in his
+hand and sat down upon the bed.
+
+"'Jack,' said he, cheerily enough, 'of course there's no use disguising
+things. The beggar may wing me, and if anything happens I want you to
+take this to my mother. I'd like you to have the horses and--and Jim.
+You'll see that Moses gets back, won't you?'
+
+"O Dick!' I almost sobbed. 'Of course I'll do exactly as you say, but
+it's not too late, and perhaps Watkins will apologize or agree to fight
+it out with fists. What's the use of shooting at each other?'
+
+"'You can't understand!' he sighed. 'Well, here's the packet. Don't
+forget now.' He began to whistle 'Dixie' and oil his pistols. Two years
+later I learned that his father had been killed in a duel at Paxton
+Court House.
+
+"'Coffee's ready,' announced Moses. 'Look out, Marse Curtis, it's hot.'
+He laid two smoking cups upon the table, and Dick poured a finger of
+brandy into each.
+
+"'To the cause!' said he with a gay laugh.
+
+"'To the cause!' cried I.
+
+"And we drained them--each to his own.
+
+"From a distant steeple came four widely separated and mournful notes.
+
+"'We must be off!' exclaimed Dick, throwing on his greatcoat. 'Have the
+horses at the bridge, Moses, in twenty minutes.'
+
+"He thrust his pistol into his pocket and linking his arm through mine
+led me into the Yard. A cold mist hung over the lawn and the red
+buildings looked black in the vague light. A silence as of the grave was
+everywhere. At certain angles the windows looked out like blank,
+whitish, dead faces.
+
+"'On a morning like this,' remarked Dick, 'my great-aunt Shirley should
+be about. Joyful, isn't it?'
+
+"I was in no mood for joking. Already the effect of the brandy had
+vanished and a chill was creeping through my body. My arm trembled and
+Randolph felt it.
+
+"'Dear me, Jack!' he cried as we passed out into the Square, 'this will
+never do! Cheer up, man! Ague is contagious at this hour of the
+morning.'
+
+"I made a heroic effort to restrain the dance of my muscles. Our steps
+made a loud rattling on the cobblestones of the Square, but we met no
+one and were soon well on our way to the river. As we trudged along the
+sky grew lighter, and crossing the bridge I noticed that the roofs of
+old Cambridge showed black against the whiteness of the dawning.
+Everywhere the mist covered the downs with a thick mantle, and a light
+breeze had sprung up, which set it drifting and swirling fantastically.
+The creaking of the draw was the only sound in the heavy silence, save
+the lapping of the water against the sunken piles, and behind us the
+faint clatter of hoofs which told us that Moses was on his way.
+
+"We left the road and started across the downs, and the mist thinned as
+the day neared its breaking. A quarter of a mile away three figures
+moved slowly along the river.
+
+"Who's the third man?' asked Randolph.
+
+"'Watkins wanted a doctor,' I replied. He gave no answer, but strode
+rapidly over the harsh grass and dry reeds of the marshy fields. No
+note of bird added touch of life to the gray scene, and the three dim
+shapes before us seemed more like phantoms than fellow-creatures.
+Although warm from our half-mile walk, a cold perspiration broke out all
+over my body and I once more lost control of my muscles. Indeed, had not
+Dick pulled me somewhat roughly on, I doubt if my legs could have held
+me up, so intense was my fear of what was coming.
+
+"Scott, as we approached, came to meet us, and without further formality
+paced off the distance. Then, quite as if it were a common affair with
+him, he examined the priming of our pistols and offered them to me for
+selection. I took one, almost dropping it in my nervousness, and passed
+the weapon to Dick, who pressed my hand for a moment before
+relinquishing it. Hardly a word had been spoken, and before I knew it
+the two were in their places. The spot chosen was in a bend of the
+sluggish river, and at this point the mist had entirely blown away. Each
+raised his pistol and took aim, just as the first claret streaks of dawn
+shot up into the east. The water swept by, oily and purple, with here
+and there a swirl of iridescent color. A heron rose with a roar of
+flapping wings and rustled away into the mist, squawking harshly, and
+the strong, salt breath of the sea floated across the marshes and set me
+sneezing.
+
+"'One!' called Scott sharply. 'Two--three-- Fire!'
+
+"The two reports seemed but as one, two tiny spurts of white smoke
+leaped from the pistols, there was a sharp groan, and Watkins reeled,
+staggered, and fell upon his back among the reeds, his left hand
+grasping convulsively at a tuft of grass beside him. Randolph stood
+motionless with the smoking pistol in his hand, his eyes riveted upon
+the body on the ground, over which both the doctor and Scott were
+bending anxiously. Then the latter raised himself with a look of horror
+on his face, and said wildly:
+
+"'O God! You've killed him!'
+
+"'How is he, doctor?' asked Randolph unemotionally.
+
+"The doctor placed his hand to the heart of the man on the ground. Then
+he announced:
+
+"'He is dead. His heart has ceased to beat.'
+
+"I don't know exactly what happened after that. I think I fainted, for I
+have a dim recollection of some one thrusting a handkerchief strong with
+ammonia into my face. But the first thing I rightly recollect is
+striding hand in hand with Randolph over the downs toward the bridge,
+where Moses was in waiting with the two horses.
+
+"I was conscious of a hurried parting with Dick, of his saying that of
+course he could never come back, and that I must not think the less of
+him for what he had done, and that we must never forget one another. And
+then he leaped on Azam's back and galloped away in the direction of
+Boston with Moses riding hard behind him, just as the sun burst red
+above the roofs of Harvard College through the mist.
+
+"I stood there for a moment and then I ran, ran anywhere, until I
+thought that I should drop; until the pain in my side seemed eating me
+up; and when I really came to my senses I found myself wandering on the
+high road hard by Lexington. I sneaked into the back door of a farmhouse
+and asked for some milk and bread, but the woman refused me and, I
+thought, looked at me with suspicion. Probably they were already
+arranging for my arrest and a warrant had been issued. Visions of a
+trial as an accessory for murder in the East Cambridge court house, and
+of a judge with a black cap--a _hanging_ judge--nearly crazed me with
+apprehension. But I had only myself to blame. I could have prevented it.
+He could not have fought alone. And I remember feeling rather sorry for
+Watkins--that he hadn't been such a bad fellow, after all. I lay under a
+tree most of the afternoon, and I can't say which emotion was uppermost,
+fear or regret. It never entered my mind that I should escape with
+anything less than a long term in State's prison.
+
+"It came back to me again and again throughout that interminable
+afternoon, how, as I was hurrying with Dick across the downs after the
+fatal shot, and the sun had jumped above the roofs before us, I had
+turned for an instant and seen the doctor and Scott still bending over
+Watkins's body. Then, somehow realizing that flight was impossible, and
+feeling so utterly wretched that I cared nothing for what became of me,
+I begged a lift from a passing teamster most of the way back to
+Cambridge, and shortly after nine o'clock stealthily entered the College
+Yard. The dismantled room opened bare and empty like a sepulcher before
+me, and in its gravelike silence my steps echoed loudly as I crossed the
+floor and threw myself upon the window seat. With a rush the vanished
+happiness of our life together came over me. Never had any days been
+half so sweet as those we had passed in this very room. And now he had
+fled--a murderer--leaving me, his accomplice, to face the consequences
+alone.
+
+"Presently a group of fellows came strolling up the walk and seated
+themselves upon the step by the window, where Dick and I had always sat.
+I resented their presence, for it only served to heighten my desolation.
+One of them was evidently telling a funny story. For a moment or two I
+purposely paid no attention; then like a douche of cold water I
+recognized the voice. The revulsion of feeling almost sickened me.
+
+"'Yes,' the jubilant Watkins was saying, 'didn't I always say he was an
+ass? Why, the trick would've been impossible on any less of a fool.
+Curtis can't be much better. When the pistols were produced Scott merely
+turned his back and had no difficulty in reloading them with graphite
+bullets, for the mist was pretty thick, and he says Curtis was shivering
+like a wet dog. All I had to do was a little play-acting and, while I
+assure you it is easier to play dead than to play doctor, Hunt carried
+out his part to perfection. In fact, the whole thing went off like a
+full-dress rehearsal. Randolph must be half-way to Virginia by this
+time. I reckon they'll make him colonel of a regiment when they hear
+he's killed a Yankee in a duel!'"
+
+Mr. Curtis spoke with a shade of asperity in his voice, and from where I
+sat I could see disappointment in Ralph's face.
+
+"Why go further?" continued Mr. Curtis. "I brazened it out as best I
+could and denounced the whole wretched performance as a piece of
+unmitigated cowardice which should brand Watkins forever as unworthy the
+society of self-respecting men. The college, as a whole, however, did
+not take that position, although I never suffered very heavily for my
+part in the proceeding.
+
+"And now, boys, you've had the whole story, and you know, in part at
+least, something of what Randolph was like."
+
+"I bet I know that Watkins!" exclaimed Ralph. "Was his name _Samuel J._
+Watkins? There's a fellow in our class named Samuel J. Watkins, Jr. He
+makes me tired. Sometimes his father comes out to see him--an old fellow
+with bedspring whiskers. He looks just mean enough to put up a trick
+like that."
+
+"That was Watkins's name," admitted Mr. Curtis. "But he wasn't a bad
+fellow, after all, and later we became good friends." He took out his
+watch. "Heavens, it's half-past twelve! And to think I've been sitting
+here, the night before one of your examinations probably, dreaming away
+three hours and a half and boring you chaps to death. I had no idea it
+was so late."
+
+"I am awfully glad you did," said Ralph. "I tell you we don't have men
+like that nowadays. At least I don't know of any. But what became of
+Randolph--afterwards?"
+
+"Dick got it at Antietam!" he answered.
+
+Both of us felt very much embarrassed. But then, as Mr. Curtis lit
+another cigar, picked up his hat and cane, and held out his hand,
+Ralph's insatiable curiosity got the better of him.
+
+"And Moses--was that he with you to-day at the memorial service? We saw
+you, you know."
+
+"Yes," replied Mr. Curtis. "After Mrs. Randolph's death Moses came North
+to live with me."
+
+I thought Ralph had gone far enough, but I was rather glad afterwards
+that, as he took our guest's hand in parting, he said impulsively:
+
+"I think Mr. Randolph was a splendid gentleman!"
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note: The following typographical errors, present in the
+original text, have been corrected.
+
+"A shiver of terrror" was changed to "A shiver of terror".
+
+A quotation mark was removed before "Flynt was not here, was he?"
+
+"he in-inquired of 'Dooley'" was changed to "he inquired of 'Dooley'".
+
+"cabs, lan aus, and wagons" was changed to "cabs, landaus, and wagons".
+
+A quotation mark was added before "Sorry to have the game broken up".
+
+A misspaced quotation mark was moved from after "turning to the court"
+to before "that he would like to have his pistol".
+
+"in acordance with inviolable custom" was changed to "in accordance with
+inviolable custom".
+
+Some words, in particular Chinese place names, were spelled
+inconsistently in the original text.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mortmain, by Arthur Cheny Train
+
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