OE CALIF. LIBRARY, LOS AHGELES
 
 THE CARLETON CASE
 
 "The girl who knelt upon the grass." Page 29
 
 By ELLERY H. CLARK 
 
 Author of" Loaded Dice," Etc. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 GEORGE BREHM 
 
 A. L. HURT COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS :: NEW YORK
 
 COPYRIGHT 1910 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
 
 To My Friends 
 MR. AND MRS. H. DENTON WHITE 
 
 2128612
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 DOCTOR HELMAR VISITS THE BIRCHES 
 
 " Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright." 
 
 Psalm xxxvii. 
 
 IN Doctor Morrison's breakfast-room the curtains 
 were drawn back, and the windows stood wide 
 open, letting in a flood of warm June sunshine, and 
 filling the whole room with the fragrance of the soft 
 June air. Even into the streets of the city, re- 
 stricted and shut in, something of the freshness and 
 beauty of the summer morning had managed to 
 make their way, and to Franz Helmar, seated a4one 
 at the breakfast table, listening to the chatter of the 
 sparrows and the cooing of the pigeons on the roofs 
 outside, there came suddenly a sense of irritation at 
 
 I
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 the monotony of dingy sidewalk and dusty street, of 
 house after house of brick varied only by house 
 after house of stone. 
 
 Irresistibly, there crept over him the whimsical 
 fancy that he would like to see the whole vast city 
 at one stroke fade and vanish completely before his 
 eyes, and in its place behold once more hill and 
 valley, river and plain; all the wide and boundless 
 freedom of the country; the splendid, sunlit glory 
 of out-of-doors. 
 
 Suddenly, across the current of his musing, there 
 sounded once again the sharp, insistent ringing of 
 the telephone, scattering all his day-dreams into 
 flight, and for the moment he paused, his coffee-cup 
 suspended in mid air, the better to listen to the doc- 
 tor's voice in the hall outside. 
 
 " Yes, this is Doctor Morrison," he heard in the 
 doctor's sharp, alert, yet not unpleasant tones, his 
 " professional " voice, and then, pitched in a lower 
 key, far more intimate and cordial, he heard at 
 broken intervals, " Ah, yes, good morning I'm 
 sorry to hear that No, I'm afraid I can't myself; 
 not this morning, anyway No, but I can send my 
 
 2
 
 DOCTOR HELMAR VISITS THE BIRCHES 
 
 colleague, Doctor Helmar Oh, perfectly, no 
 doubt of that; this is the day of young men, you 
 know All right Eight-fifteen, South All 
 right; good-by," and then the click of the receiver, 
 and the doctor himself reentered the room. 
 
 Doctor Morrison was a slender, wiry, middle- 
 aged little man, with a quick, nervous manner, and 
 a face pleasantly keen and inquisitive, clean-shaven, 
 save for a little sandy mustache, and with hair 
 what was left of it of the same color. Profes- 
 sionally, he ranked among the first half-dozen 
 practitioners in the city. He was an autocrat in 
 demanding obedience from his patients, and a very 
 martinet in insisting that his rules should be obeyed, 
 while he himself, in private life, with the most de- 
 lightful inconsistency, contrived successfully to 
 break them all. Cocktails he absolutely forbade 
 and drank them with infinite relish. Tobacco he 
 denounced as one of the curses of modern life 
 and peacefully smoked cigarettes innumerable. 
 Eight hours sleep he declared to be a necessity 
 and himself sat up until all hours of the night and 
 morning. In him you met a doctor stern and awe- 
 
 3
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 inspiring terrifying, even until you came to 
 know him, and then, shorn of his " professional " 
 voice and manner, you came suddenly upon a man, 
 gentle-hearted, humane and kind. 
 
 Seating himself, he glanced up at Helmar, talking 
 jerkily over his eggs and toast, in his absence now 
 grown somewhat discouraged looking and cold. 
 
 " A job for you, Franz," he said, " Edward 
 Carleton the man who owns that big place out at 
 Eversley Oaks ? Beeches ? What is the name ? 
 Some kind of tree. Birches. That's it. Birches. 
 Funny name to give a place, anyway. Well, the 
 old man's laid up with a cold. That was his brother 
 who telephoned. Henry Carleton, you know, the 
 bank man. He wanted me to come out at once, and 
 I told him I couldn't, but that I'd send you instead. 
 Train leaves South Station at eight-fifteen. So 
 you've plenty of time. I'll look after Colonel 
 Wentworth myself, and drop in to see Mrs. Brooks. 
 Nothing else, is there? " 
 
 Helmar shook his head. " No, that's all," he 
 answered, " and I'm mighty glad to trade. For one 
 thing, I was just thinking how the country would 
 
 4
 
 DOCTOR HELMAR VISITS THE BIRCHES 
 
 look to-day, and for another, I'd like to meet old 
 Mr. Carleton. I knew Jack Carleton very well 
 when we were in college as well as I knew any- 
 one, really. So I should enjoy meeting his father." 
 
 Doctor Morrison paused a moment. He was 
 rather a well-advised man on social affairs. " Jack 
 Carleton," he repeated, " some trouble there some- 
 where, isn't there? Isn't he the one who doesn't 
 live at home ? " 
 
 " Yes," Helmar assented, " he's the one. The 
 trouble's all between him and Henry, I believe. 
 Uncle and nephew it's a queer combination for 
 a family row. But I guess it's a case where the 
 old gentleman's on the best of terms with both of 
 them, and hardly feels like taking sides. And so, 
 since Henry Carleton and Jack can't get along to- 
 gether, why, it's Henry that's rather got the inside 
 track. He always did live at The Birches, you 
 know, even before his wife died. And then there's , 
 his little girl I understand that Edward Carleton 
 is most devoted to her, and for the matter of that,, 
 that Jack is too. And she's awfully fond of him, 
 and of the old gentleman. Likes them fully as 
 
 5
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 much as she does her father, from what I hear. 
 But it's Jack and his uncle that can't agree. Never 
 could, I guess. Maybe Jack's a bit more jealous 
 than he ought to be. Anyway, it was all right 
 while he was in college he wasn't home a great 
 deal then but after he graduated, I understand 
 things began to get a little raw, so he quit and 
 branched out for himself." 
 
 Doctor Morrison nodded. " Yes," he said, " I 
 see. I thought I recalled something of the sort," 
 and after a little pause, he added, " I suppose, as 
 you intimate, it isn't very hard to guess where the 
 trouble lies, either. I'm afraid, Helmar, there's 
 something rather rattle-brained about your friend. 
 An attractive looking fellow enough, though, as I 
 remember him, but I'm afraid without much of his 
 uncle's ability, or, for that matter, of his character, 
 either." 
 
 Helmar looked thoughtful. " Well," he began 
 doubtfully, " I don't really know. But somehow 
 I think " 
 
 Doctor Morrison cut him short. After the fash- 
 6
 
 DOCTOR HELMAR VISITS THE BIRCHES 
 
 ion of many clever men, he was possessed of an 
 idea, and was going to deliver himself of it. Until 
 he had done so, the privilege of the floor was his, 
 and his alone. " I look upon Henry Carleton," he 
 continued, a little sententiously, " as one of our 
 coming men. Some day he is sure to be regarded 
 as one of the really solid men of the city ; practically, 
 I suppose he is that now. They tell me that he's 
 exceedingly able, and that he's amassed a great 
 deal of money of his own ; and then they say he has 
 all his brother's fortune behind him, too. The old 
 gentleman made his money away back in the days 
 of the clipper ships, and the Chinese trade. One of 
 the old time merchants, Edward Carleton was, 
 shrewd and thrifty and far-seeing, and I guess 
 Henry is all that his brother ever was, and more 
 besides. And then Re's interested in so many 
 other things. You know what a thorough musi- 
 cian he is, and what a lot he does to help the 
 younger singers along. And confound it all, the 
 man's literary, too. Writes, you know, and pre- 
 sides at anniversaries and dedications and all that 
 
 7
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 sort of thing. Oh, he's one of our leading men, 
 Helmar. Able, and public-spirited, and upright. I 
 wish we had a hundred more like him." 
 
 Helmar had listened patiently, but the thoughtful 
 expression had not left his face. " Yes," he as- 
 sented at last, though scarcely with enthusiasm. 
 " Yes, I suppose so. Certainly I never knew any- 
 "body more generally looked up to than Henry Carle- 
 ton seems to be. And yet it's queer about him 
 and Jack, because Jack's a good fellow, too. In 
 a different way, perhaps. I suppose he does lack 
 balance; but there's something awfully human and 
 likeable about him, just the same. But I'm preju- 
 diced in his favor, I'll admit; I used to know him 
 so well." 
 
 He rose as he spoke, and started to leave the 
 room; then paused a moment on the threshold, 
 throwing a backward glance over his shoulder. 
 
 " Come on, Rex," he called, and at the sound of 
 his voice there came slowly from beneath the break- 
 fast table a little brown and white spaniel, who 
 -first stopped leisurely to stretch himself, next shook 
 Jiis slender body mightily as if to get himself 
 
 8
 
 DOCTOR HELMAR VISITS THE BIRCHES 
 
 thoroughly awake, and finally trotted briskly away 
 at Helmar's heels. Then, outside in the hall, as 
 he saw his master reach for his hat and bag, he 
 became suddenly greatly excited, springing to and 
 fro with quick, nervous bounds, his mouth open, 
 his little red tongue hanging out, his brow r n eyes 
 glowing, finally standing straight up on his hind 
 legs, and waving his fore paws frantically, as 
 in supplication. Helmar, observing him, held up 
 a warning finger, and instantly the dog again sub- 
 sided, sitting quietly down on his haunches, his 
 head cocked inquiringly to one side, his brown eyes, 
 now grown a trifle anxious, fixed on his master's 
 face, uncertain of his fate. Helmar looked gravely 
 down at him, a twinkle in his eye, but speaking with 
 assumed regret. " No," he said slowly, " no, I 
 guess not, sir. It's a long ways for a little dog, 
 and he might not behave himself, either. He might 
 bark he might run away he might chase 
 squirrels, even he might be a bad, bad dog." 
 Now the little dog's big, soft eyes looked very 
 sorrowful, as if they were not far from tears; the 
 head and ears drooped pathetically, the tail limp, 
 
 9
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 discouraged and lifeless, every line of his body ex- 
 pressing the idea that for little dogs it was a very 
 hard, a very sad, a very unkind world. Then sud- 
 denly he raised his head. Surely, even as he had 
 despaired, a change had come ; surely the admonish- 
 ing finger was being lowered, and his master's voice 
 was speaking to him in the tones he loved best to 
 hear. "But" Helmar was slowly emphasizing, 
 " seeing that on the whole you're a pretty good little 
 dog, perhaps if you'll give me your word your 
 solemn word to behave, and be a gentleman, 
 why, I think " his voice quickened perceptibly 
 to a more encouraging tone " I think, sir, I might 
 let you go. Do you want to go, sir ? Do you want 
 to go?" 
 
 There was no mistaking the little dog's answer. 
 With one bound he hurled himself headlong like a 
 miniature catapult against the solid oak of the door, 
 then stood motionless, quivering with excitement, 
 his tail waving jauntily, like a plume, over his back, 
 giving vent to short, sharp barks of joyful impa- 
 tience. It was a great world for little dogs, after 
 all; a world of blue sky and long, waving grass, a 
 
 K>
 
 DOCTOR HELMAR VISITS THE BIRCHES 
 
 \vorlcl of running brooks and sunshine, a world per- 
 haps of squirrels even. Helmar, regarding him, 
 laughed. " Come on, then," he cried, and ia a mo- 
 ment the door had closed behind them. 
 
 The town clock was striking nine as Helmar got 
 off the train at Eversley, walked up the station lane, 
 and turned into the narrow footpath leading straight 
 across the half mile of broad green meadow that 
 lay between the station and The Birches. Rap- 
 idly and steadily his tall figure strode along, from 
 time to time with a half smile on his dark, clean- 
 shaven face, as he watched the little spaniel tear- 
 ing on far ahead of him, in a very frenzy of 
 delighted freedom, racing and circling desperately 
 here and there in vain pursuit of butterfly and bird. 
 
 To the farther edge of the meadow they came. 
 There Helmar, clearing the low rail fence at a 
 bound, for a moment hesitated as he sought to recall 
 Doctor Morrison's directions, then turned sharp to 
 the right along the shady country road; proceeding 
 at first uncertainly, as on a journey into unknown 
 country, then more confidently, as one by one he 
 came on the landmarks the doctor had foretold: 
 
 it
 
 first the massive wall of stone and concrete that 
 marked the limits of the Carleton boundaries, then 
 grove after grove of the silver birches that had 
 gained the place its name, and finally, almost before 
 he expected it, a break in the high lilac hedge, a 
 long, winding drive, green lawns shaded by tower- 
 ing elms, gardens fragrant with flowers, and in the 
 background, just pleasantly distant from the road, 
 the huge, rambling, many-chimneyed old house itself 
 Edward Carleton's home. 
 
 12
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 INQUIRING FRIENDS 
 
 " Distance sometimes endears friendship, and absence sweet- 
 eneth it." Howell. 
 
 HELMAR had covered perhaps half the distance 
 to the house, when ahead of him he caught 
 sight of a little girl, sitting cross-legged under the 
 shade of one of the big elms, her head bent low 
 over the buttercup wreath she was weaving, and at 
 her side a young woman from her dress, evi- 
 dently the child's nurse or companion sitting 
 with her back against the tree, deep buried in her 
 book. At the sound of Helmar's footsteps the 
 child glanced up quickly, and catching sight of the 
 spaniel advancing manfully with head in air, and 
 tail wagging in friendliest of greetings, she scram- 
 bled to her feet, and tossing her half -finished wreath 
 aside, came flying across the lawn to meet him. 
 Evidently with both it was a case of love at first 
 
 13
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 sight, for the child stooped and picked the dog 
 up bodily in her arms, pressing his face to hers, and 
 calling him by the hundred pet names which spring 
 so readily to the lips of any true woman what- 
 ever her age. " Oh, you dear," she cried softly, 
 "you darling; aren't you a pretty dog!" while the 
 spaniel lay quietly in her arms, only striving to 
 lick her face with his little red tongue. Then, as 
 Helmar approached, she looked up. " Isn't he a 
 beauty ! " she said. " Does he belong to you ? " 
 
 Helmar stood smiling down at her, thinking that 
 unconsciously/ she made a very pretty picture with 
 the spaniel's head pressed against her cheek. She 
 was a dainty little fairy, slender and graceful, 
 dressed in an airy frock of white muslin, with a 
 broad sash of blue ribbon, her straw hat dangling 
 neglected down her back, her big, serious dark eyes 
 gazing solemnly up into his. He nodded in answer. 
 " Yes, he belongs to me," he said, " but do you sup- 
 pose you could look after him while I go in to see 
 your uncle? " 
 
 The little girl nodded in eager assent. " Oh, yes, 
 indeed," she cried. "I'll take care of him. I'll 
 
 14
 
 INQUIRING FRIENDS 
 
 give him my buttercup wreath. Come now, you 
 darling, come with me," and with the spaniel still 
 in her arms, she walked back toward the shelter of 
 the big elm. 
 
 At Helmar's nearer approach, the child's nurse, 
 too, had risen, laying aside her book, and as he 
 passed, naturally enough their glances met for 
 an instant only and then Helmar again strode 
 along upon his way, carrying with him the im- 
 pression of a charming face, and a most alluring 
 smile. 
 
 What was there, he wondered, about the girl, 
 that was so vaguely disquieting? She was dressed 
 quietly enough in simple black, with a little snugly- 
 fitting white apron, reaching, by mere chance, just 
 to the height of her bosom, and held in place by 
 smart little shoulder-straps, about it all a daintily 
 vague impression of ribbon and lace. Her figure, 
 indeed, was perfect; deliciously rounded; and the 
 closely-fitting dress seemed to bring out, with sig- 
 nificant emphasis, all the beauty of her form. Her 
 face, moreover, was more striking still; her pretty 
 blonde hair appeared to curl so naturally as utterly 
 
 15
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 to defy the mode of convention; her big blue eyes 
 drooped modestly as soon as she had become con- 
 scious of his gaze, just long enough to show the 
 heavy fringed eyelashes above, and then almost as 
 quickly glanced up again; there had been a flush 
 of rose in her cheeks, and a deeper scarlet on the 
 lips that had smiled at him. Perhaps it was in the 
 smile itself slow, langourous, inviting that the 
 whole woman had seemed suddenly to lie revealed ; 
 and scarcely able as yet to define it, Helmar felt that 
 the girl's seeming simplicity was the dangerous 
 charm of the highest art, and that he had gazed 
 on the guile of the serpent, and not on the innocence 
 of the dove. 
 
 Puzzling a little as he walked along, he cast back 
 in his mind to chance words that from time to time 
 had fallen haphazard from Jack Carleton's lips, 
 and finally, in one sudden flash of memory, he came 
 upon the clue. "Jeanne," he said to himself, half 
 
 % 
 
 aloud, " of course ; that's who it is ; Jeanne." Then, 
 falling back unconsciously into the slang of college 
 days, he added, " and she is a peach, too ; Jack told 
 the truth for once; no wonder he had his little 
 
 16
 
 INQUIRING FRIENDS 
 
 affair." And finally, as he mounted the steps of the 
 broad piazza, he spoke again. " But pretty risky 
 fun," he muttered, " playing with fire, all right ; 
 there are some women in the world that a man 
 wants to steer clear of, and I should put that girl 
 down for one of them." 
 
 He rang the bell, and almost immediately there 
 appeared in answer a butler, thin, pale, and of un- 
 certain age, but even to Helmars unpractised eye 
 superlatively autocratic, hopelessly correct. He 
 seemed, indeed, to be not so much a human being as 
 the living embodiment of all known rules of social 
 etiquette, condensed, as it were, into the final per- 
 fect expression of a type, before whom and whose 
 vast store of knowledge one could only bow, humbly 
 praying that the mistakes of honest ignorance might 
 graciously be forgiven. Helmar, following in his 
 wake, felt properly sensible of the honor done him, 
 as he was ushered up the broad, winding staircase 
 to the entrance of the big square room at the front 
 of the house, where his guide stopped, and most 
 decorously knocked. In answer a great voice 
 called lustily, " Come in ! " and the butler promptly 
 
 17
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 stepped to one side. " Mr. Carleton, sir," he ob- 
 served, "left orders that you were to be admitted 
 at once," and thereupon, opening the door, he stood 
 respectfully back, and as Helmar entered, closed it 
 softly behind him. 
 
 Edward Carleton, attired in an old-fashioned 
 quilted dressing-gown, was sitting up, reading, in 
 his huge, high, square bed, his back propped with 
 pillows innumerable Well upward of seventy, he 
 looked strong and active still; gaunt, with a 
 wrinkled, weather-beaten face, a great bushy square- 
 cut gray beard, and fiercely tufted eyebrows, while 
 in the eyes beneath them, as he slowly took off his 
 horn-rimmed spectacles and glanced up at his visi- 
 tor, Helmar caught an expression of lurking, 
 humorous kindliness that put him at once in mind of 
 Jack Carleton himself. 
 
 As Helmar advanced, the old man reached out a 
 gnarled and sinewy hand. " Good morning, sir," 
 he said pleasantly, " I take it that you're Doctor 
 Morrison's young man." 
 
 Helmar, as he took the proffered hand, smiled to 
 himself at the old-fashioned quaintness of the 
 
 18
 
 INQUIRING FRIENDS 
 
 phrase. " Yes, sir," he answered, " that's my pro- 
 fessional title. In private life I'm Franz Helmar, 
 and in either capacity very much at your service." 
 
 Edward Carleton nodded. " Thank you," he 
 answered courteously, and then, more abruptly, 
 " you think you've come out here to see a sick man, 
 Doctor, but you haven't. Just a bit of a chill I 
 managed to let myself get caught in that shower 
 yesterday afternoon and maybe a little fever with 
 it. But I'm not sick. It's all Henry's nonsense. 
 Just because he's twenty years younger than I am, 
 he has to look after me as if I were a baby." 
 
 He spoke with assumed indignation, yet Helmar 
 could detect in his tone a note of satisfaction at 
 being so well cared for; and when he answered 
 him, he aimed to fall in with the old man's mood. 
 
 " Why, I think myself that I'm out here under 
 false pretenses," he said good-humoredly, " you 
 don't look at all like an invalid to me; but still the 
 ounce of prevention, you know, it never does any 
 harm. So many things nowadays start with a cold. 
 It's just as well to step right in and stop them before 
 they get a hold on us. Now, then, we'll see where 
 
 19
 
 we are, at any rate," and as he spoke, he deftly 
 slipped the little temperature tube under Edward 
 Carleton's tongue, and closed his fingers lightly on 
 the lean brown wrist. A minute or two passed in 
 silence, the old man's eyes fixed on Helmar's face 
 with the scrutinizing interest of the patient who 
 awaits the professional verdict. Then Helmar 
 withdrew the tube, studied it an instant, nodded as 
 if satisfied, asked a few questions, and then has- 
 tened to give his opinion. 
 
 " Oh, well," he said reassuringly, " this is all 
 right. We'll fix you up, Mr. Carleton. Just a 
 little tonic, and a few days' rest, and you'll be as 
 good as new; better than new, really, because a 
 day or two off is a benefit to anybody, at any time. 
 You'd better stay in bed, though, to-day, I think; 
 and personally I rather envy you. I see you have 
 good company." 
 
 He pointed as he spoke, to the three stout little 
 volumes that lay by Mr. Carleton's side. Roderick 
 Random was the first; Tom Jones, the second; 
 Tristram Shandy, the third. Their owner nodded 
 in pleased assent. 
 
 20
 
 INQUIRING FRIENDS 
 
 " Yes, indeed," he answered, " they'll last me 
 through the day, all right. I never get tired of 
 them, Doctor. I was just reading, when you came' 
 in, how Tom Bowling came to see the old cur- 
 mudgeon who was about to die. ' So, old gentle- 
 man,' he says, ' you're bound for the other shore, 
 I see, but in my opinion most damnably ill-provided 
 for the voyage '; and later on, after the old fellow's 
 dead, he tells some one, that asks after him, that 
 they might look for him ' somewhere about the 
 latitude of hell.' There's good, sound, human na- 
 ture for you. Smollett knew his sailors, and the 
 rest of his world, too, and enjoyed them both, I 
 imagine. And he wasn't a hypocrite; that's what 
 I like most about him. He saw things as they 
 were." 
 
 Helmar smiled. " I agree with you," he an- 
 swered, " but the modern school of feaders doesn't 
 care for him, just the same. He's either too simple 
 for them, or too coarse ; I don't know which." 
 
 Edward Carleton looked his scorn. " Modern 
 school ! " he ejaculated. " Let me tell you, sir, I 
 have but very little opinion of your modern school, 
 
 21
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 writers or readers either. But Henry stands up 
 for 'em, and brings 'em all to me to read. Good 
 Lord above, the different kinds ! There's some that 
 tell you whether John Smith had one egg for 
 breakfast, or two, and whether either of 'em was 
 bad, and if it was, what John Smith said to his 
 wife, and what she said to him and Henry claims 
 those books are modern classics. Then he's got 
 another lot romantic school, I believe they are 
 all dashing cavaliers and lovely ladies and flash- 
 ing swords and general moonshine stuff about 
 fit for idiots and invalids; and last of all " 
 he glared at Helmar as if he were the unfortunate 
 embodiment of all the literary sins of the day 
 " he's got a crowd Heaven knows what he calls 
 'em; the pig-sty school's my name that seem to 
 be having a regular game; trying to see which can 
 write the dirtiest book, arid yet have it stop just 
 enough short of the line so they can manage to get 
 it published without the danger of having it sup- 
 pressed. And the mean, hypocritical excuses they 
 make they're always teaching a moral lesson, you 
 know, or something like that. It makes me sick, 
 
 22
 
 INQUIRING FRIENDS 
 
 sir; it makes me sick; and I don't hesitate to tell 
 Henry so, either." 
 
 Helmar nodded assentingly, and yet, with a 
 twinkle in his eye, he could not resist the tempta- 
 tion to reach forward and pick np from the bed the 
 volume of Sterne. " I agree with a- great deal of 
 what you say, sir," he answered, " especially the 
 latter part, and yet it isn't wholly a modern vice. 
 There was old Rabelais, for instance, and his 
 imitators, and even Tristram here I suppose you 
 could hardly recommend for a Sunday-school." 
 
 Edward Carleton was no casuist. He loved to 
 fight, but he always fought fair. " I grant it," he 
 answered quickly ; " Laurence Sterne did have a 
 little sneaking peep-hole way with him at times 
 he was modern there but you can forgive a great 
 deal to the man who gave us Uncle Toby and Cor- 
 poral Trim. And then, he isn't a fair example ; he 
 was a kind of literary exception to all rules; but 
 take Smollett or Henry Fielding. They struck 
 straight out from the shoulder, every time. What 
 they meant, they said. They painted vice, I grant 
 you, but they painted her naked and repulsive, as 
 
 23
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 she should be, and that's fair enough; you can go 
 back to your Aristotle for that, Doctor. But they 
 didn't disguise her, sir; they didn't call her some- 
 thing that she never was and never could be; and 
 these modern swine, they dress out vice in silks 
 and satins, and make you believe she's the most 
 beautiful thing in the world so beautiful that 
 no man can be happy unless he may possess her; 
 and there's no Henry Fielding to come along with 
 his big, scornful laugh, and strip her of all her 
 frippery and finery, and show you the stark, naked 
 sin that lies there underneath it all. Oh, I'm right, 
 Doctor, and I'm always telling Henry so, but I can't 
 convince him. He says it's art, whatever that 
 means, and he's all for the modern school." 
 
 Helmar rose, smiling. " You are right, I be- 
 lieve," he said heartily, " and if we all read more 
 of the old worthies, and less of this flood of modern 
 trash, we'd do better, beyond a doubt. Well, I 
 must get my train, I suppose. I'm going to leave 
 the medicine with your butler ; I'll give him full di- 
 rections; and you'll be all right, without any ques- 
 tion. If you should want anything, telephone Doc- 
 
 24
 
 INQUIRING FRIENDS 
 
 tor Morrison or me at once. I'm very glad to have 
 had the chance of meeting you, sir. Oh, and there 
 was one other thing I meant to tell you: I knew 
 your son Jack very well in college. We used to be 
 the best of friends." 
 
 Edward Carleton looked up quickly, but without 
 speaking, and when at last he did so, there was a 
 new note of cordiality in his tone. " You knew 
 Jack," he repeated, " why, I'm glad to hear that, I'm 
 sure. I'm very fond of my boy, Doctor. Boy? 
 He's a man now, though I can never seem to realize 
 k. He's only a little boy to me still, for all his 
 six feet and his forty inches around the chest. Do 
 you ever see him nowadays, Doctor ? " 
 
 Helmar nodded. " Yes, indeed," he answered 
 readily, "not very often, of course. We're in dif- 
 ferent lines of work, and both busy, I guess. But I 
 run across him every once in a while. And this 
 week we're going to dine together. Jack and I and 
 another fellow who was in our class a sort of 
 small reunion, to celebrate being five years out of 
 college. He'll be interested to know I've been out 
 here." 
 
 25
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 The old man nodded, gazing straight before him. 
 " Doctor," he asked suddenly, with apparent irrele- 
 vance, " you took my pulse to-day. What did you 
 think of my heart? " 
 
 Helmar, surprised, parried with the clumsiness 
 of a man not fond of deception. " Why," he 
 evaded, " I wouldn't worry about that. All you 
 have is a cold. You've got a pretty good heart, I 
 think. We none of us grow any younger, though. 
 That's sure." 
 
 Edward Carleton smiled a little grimly. 
 " Thanks," he said, " sometimes a patient knows 
 more about himself than a doctor thinks he does. 
 And I suppose I could guess pretty well what cer- 
 tain things mean. Never mind, though. As you 
 say, we don't grow any younger, more's the pity." 
 
 Roth were silent, Helmar pausing a moment, un- 
 certainly, with one hand on the knob of the door. 
 Then the old man glanced up at him, with a smile 
 genial and friendly, if a trifle wistful. " Good-by, 
 Doctor," he said courteously, " thank you for your 
 interest. And tell Jack he's always welcome, when- 
 ever he finds time to run out. The Birches is 
 
 26
 
 ' INQUIRING FRIENDS 
 
 always his home, and his room stands ready for 
 him always." 
 
 Five minutes later Helmar again passed down the 
 broad steps of the piazza into the cheerful, dazzling 
 sunlight. The little girl and her nurse were still 
 seated under the shade of the big elm, and at once 
 the spaniel, breaking away from his new friends, 
 came tearing across the lawn to his master, ruth- 
 lessly scattering buttercups at every bound. With 
 a laugh Helmar picked him up in his arms, and took 
 him back to make his proper farewells. For the 
 little girl the final moment of parting was a hard 
 one, and she gazed longingly at her playmate, as 
 though unwilling to have him go. Her nurse, 
 observing her, shook her head in reproof. " Don't 
 be so foolish, Miss Rose," she chided, "he's 
 only a little dog; you mustn't be silly;" then, sud- 
 denly, she looked squarely at Helmar. " Will you 
 excuse me, please," she said softly, " but I know 
 that you're a friend of Mr. Jack's. Would you tell 
 me where a letter would reach him? " 
 
 Helmar eyed her keenly, and before his gaze the 
 blue eyes dropped, and this time were not raised 
 
 27
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 again. A faint flush stole into her cheeks. Hel- 
 mar, in his turn, looked away. " Yes," he an- 
 swered shortly, " Mayflower Club, City, is his 
 present address." 
 
 He had his reward. At once the girl's eyes were 
 raised again, and her look sought his with the same 
 smile that he had seen before. It was not a smile 
 of the lips alone, but of the eyes as well, and a cer- 
 tain nameless something that flashed from still 
 deeper within, a piquant frankness, a dangerous 
 friendliness. Again he started to turn away, then 
 stopped; his eyes, though half against his will, still 
 seeking hers. 
 
 On the silence broke in the voice of the little girl. 
 " Is it Cousin Jack ? " she demanded, " do you know 
 Cousin Jack? " And as Helmar nodded, she cried, 
 " I wish you'd tell him to come out and see me. He 
 hasn't been here for an awfully long time. Will 
 you tell him, please?" 
 
 Helmar promised, and with a glance at his watch, 
 took a hasty leave. Thoughtfully enough he made 
 his way back to the station, and yet, before he 
 reached it, one meeting more was destined to give 
 
 28
 
 INQUIRING FRIENDS 
 
 him food for further meditation. Nearing the 
 entrance to the station lane, the vigorous and 
 friendly bark of his faithful body-guard struck sud- 
 denly on his ear, and turning the corner, he paused 
 in quick surprise at the sight of the girl who knelt 
 upon the grass, parasol, hat and gloves tossed care- 
 lessly aside, holding the spaniel's head imprisoned 
 caressingly between her dainty hands, and talking to 
 him with mock severity the while. As she glanced 
 up, perceiving Helmar, she somewhat hastily arose, 
 and as he approached, smilingly extended her hand 
 in greeting. 
 
 Very attractive, indeed, she looked. Fashionably 
 dressed, yet simply, as well; young she could 
 scarcely have been over twenty, at the most and 
 with a face that one could hardly choose but like at 
 once the clear-cut, regular features, the honest, 
 straightforward brown eyes, the pretty color in the 
 dimpled cheeks, the firm little chin, the laughing, yet 
 sensitive mouth. One liked too the erectness of her 
 slender figure, and the well-poised head, crowned 
 with its masses of soft brown hair. If one had 
 been ungracious enough to venture a criticism, the 
 
 29
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 thought might have come that she shared, perhaps, 
 the fault of so many American girls of the well-to- 
 do class, the excusable habit of taking the good 
 things of life too much as a matter of course, of 
 being too easily satisfied with the doings and stand- 
 ards of their own particular class and " set," of 
 having no real knowledge, and worse still, perhaps, 
 of desiring none, of the great world at large. Yet 
 even if the criticism had been hazarded, the critic 
 must still have been forced to admit that plenty of 
 character showed in the girl's face, and while of her 
 mere good looks alone there could be no question, 
 in seeming paradox, the more one looked at her the 
 more one forgot her mere prettiness, granting it 
 carelessly enough as something secondary, so much 
 more uncommon and striking were the other qual- 
 ities written there strength and sympathy and 
 above all, that holy and beautiful thing before which 
 any man may well stand in reverent admiration 
 the innate goodness of the true woman, pure in 
 thought and deed. 
 
 As he took her hand, Helmar's face showed his 
 30
 
 INQUIRING FRIENDS 
 
 surprise. " Well, Marjory Graham," he cried, 
 " who'd have thought of seeing you? " 
 
 Laughingly the girl mimicked him. " Why, 
 Franz Helmar," she said in turn, " you're not the 
 one to be surprised. You knew I lived in Eversley. 
 But what are you doing out here? " 
 
 " Old Mr. Carleton," he answered, " he's a little 
 under the weather. I ran out to see how he was 
 getting along." 
 
 The girl's face clouded. " Oh, I'm sorry," she 
 said, " he's such a dear old man. And he's my 
 father's greatest friend, you know. I hope it's 
 nothing serious." 
 
 Helmar shook his head. " No, I think not," he 
 answered, " he'll be all right for this time. And 
 he is a first-class old chap, too. Do you know, I 
 think Jack is awfully like him, in many ways? " 
 
 At the words a sudden change came over the 
 girl's expressive face. For a moment she hesitated, 
 then raised her eyes to his. " Franz," she said, 
 " how often do you see Jack now? " 
 
 Helmar glanced at her quizzically. " Oh," he 
 31
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 answered, " every once in a while. Not so often 
 as you do, though, I guess." 
 
 He spoke jestingly, but the girl gave him no an- 
 swering smile, and he hastened to add, " Why, I ex- 
 pect to see him Wednesday night, Marjory, to make 
 arrangements for a little dinner we're going to have 
 Thursday Jack and Arthur Vaughan and I. 
 Is there anything I can do ? " 
 
 The girl colored faintly. "It's only this," she 
 said, " and I ought to write to him and not bother 
 you. But when you see Jack, would you mind tell- 
 ing him that I shall be at home Friday evening, if 
 he cares to come out ? " 
 
 Seemingly, there was more in the words than ap- 
 peared on the surface, but Helmar, with a certain 
 instinctive chivalry, chose to treat the request with 
 apparent lightness. "Of course I'll tell him," he 
 answered, " with all the pleasure in life." 
 
 She looked her gratitude. " Thank you very 
 much, Franz," she said, " and you will remember, 
 won't you ? " 
 
 He nodded reassuringly. " I surely will," he an- 
 swered, and as he spoke, the train burst shrieking, 
 
 32
 
 INQUIRING FRIENDS 
 
 around the near-by curve. " Oh, don't miss it ! " 
 she cried. " Thank you, Franz ; thank you so 
 much; good-by." 
 
 Breaking into a swift run, Helmar, with the 
 spaniel racing excitedly at his heels, reached the 
 station platform just in time. Boarding the train, 
 and taking a seat far forward in the almost deserted 
 car, he sat for some time in thoughtful silence, and 
 then at last voiced his reflections to the one friend 
 who never betrayed his confidence. " Rex, my 
 boy," he said slowly, " our friend Jack seems to 
 have achieved the secret of universal popularity." 
 
 The spaniel, listening with head cocked know- 
 ingly to one side, gave a sharp, quick bark in reply, 
 and Helmar laughed. " Does that mean you think 
 so, or you don't think so? " he asked, but the little 
 dog refused further to commit himself, and curling 
 up in his master's lap, went promptly and comfort- 
 ably to sleep. 
 
 33
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 "The pains and penalties of idleness." 
 
 Pope. 
 
 IT was after eight o'clock, yet still faintly light 
 out-of-doors, as Jack Carleton left his rooms at 
 the Mayflower Club, and came slowly down the 
 winding staircase, with one hand groping for the 
 railing, as if uncertain of his way. 
 
 At first sight he looked extremely well, and in 
 his fashionably-cut street suit of light gray, his tall 
 and well-built figure showed to excellent advantage, 
 though in the five years which had passed since his 
 graduation he had seemingly grown heavier and 
 stouter, and somehow distinctly softer looking, as 
 if the active exercise of former days had come now 
 to be the exception, and not the rule. And this 
 impression, as he paused midway on the stairs to 
 light a cigarette, was still further borne out by the 
 
 34
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 appearance of his face. He was handsome enough 
 still, and his complexion, indeed, from a distance, 
 in contrast with his fair hair and closely-clipped 
 mustache, seemed the perfection of ruddy health; 
 yet the tell-tale spurt of the match, as he held it to 
 his lips, told a far different story. His color, 
 naturally high, was beginning now to be patched 
 with red and white, giving his face a significantly 
 mottled look, and if any further hint had been, 
 needed, it was furnished by his eyes, which stared 
 straight ahead of him with a curiously glassy ex- 
 pression. Plainly enough, Jack Carleton was 
 drunk. 
 
 Still holding fast to the rail, he accomplished the 
 remainder of his journey in safety; then started a 
 little unsteadily toward the door of the lounging 
 room, stopping short at the entrance, and staring 
 vacantly in at the half dozen figures looming mistily 
 through the haze of smoke. Instantly he was 
 hailed by two or three at once. " Hullo, Jack, 
 what'll you have ? " " Come on in, Jack." " Make 
 a fourth at bridge, Jack ? " Carleton, standing 
 motionless, with one hand fumbling in his pocket 
 
 35
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 for a match with which to relight his cigarette, 
 still gazed aimlessly and apparently without recogni- 
 tion into the room. " Make a fourth at bridge, 
 Jack ? " some one called again sharply, and Carle- 
 ton, starting, jerkily, but with intense gravity, shook 
 his head. " No, not t'night," he said slowly, as 
 if settling some matter of immense moment to all 
 concerned, " can't play t'night ; very shorry ; got 
 date." He stood a moment longer; then, half 
 mechanically, as it seemed, turned and slowly 
 walked toward the outer door that led into the 
 .street. 
 
 With a little exclamation, one of the loungers 
 hastily rose, and followed him out into the hall. 
 Jim Turner was a stock broker, and a most suc- 
 cessful one. He was a man of middle age, short, 
 stout, and unattractive looking. He had a round, 
 fat face, pale reddish hair and mustache, small, 
 nondescript, expressionless eyes, a pasty complex- 
 ion, and white, pudgy hands, which he took pains 
 to have manicured regularly three times a week. 
 He was entirely unimaginative, practical, common- 
 place and very successful. He had one favorite 
 
 36
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 motto ; " Look at things as they are, and not as 
 you'd like 'em to be." 
 
 He quickly overtook Carleton a feat, indeed, 
 not difficult of accomplishment and laid a de- 
 taining hand on his shoulder. " See here, Jack/' 
 he said in a low tone, " I want you to let me sell out 
 some of your things. We get advices that there's 
 trouble coming and pretty quickly, too. And by 
 this time you're really carrying quite a big line. So 
 I guess it wouldn't do any harm if you began grad- 
 ually to unload a little. Don't you think so your- 
 self, Jack?" 
 
 Carleton gazed at him from eyes in which there 
 was no understanding. He shook his head slightly. 
 " Don' want t'sell," he said at last, " ain't I 'way 
 'head th' game ? " 
 
 " Oh, sure," Turner assented. " You're ahead of 
 the game, all right, but I want to have you stay 
 there. And when things start to go in a top-heavy 
 market, why they go almighty quick. That's all. 
 There's your Suburban Electric, now. That's had 
 a big rise. Let me sell five hundred of that, any- 
 way. You've got a good profit. And you'll find 
 
 37
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 you can get out and in again, too. You won't have 
 any trouble doing that." 
 
 Again Carleton obstinately shook his head. 
 " No," he said, with an almost childish delight in 
 contradiction, " I don' get 'ny 'dvices like that. I 
 get 'dvices S'burban 'Lectric's going to hundred'n 
 fifty. I don' want t'sell now. Not such fool." 
 
 Turner, seeing the futility of further argument, 
 shrugged his shoulders impassively. " Well, drop 
 in at the office and see me to-morrow, anyway, 
 Jack," he said. 
 
 Carleton nodded. " Sure," he answered cheer- 
 fully, " I'll be in. Got t'get 'long now," and he 
 made again for the door. 
 
 Turner slowly made his way back into the loung- 
 ing room. One of the smokers looked up at him 
 with a laugh. " Old Jack's pretty full, isn't he ? " 
 he said, " growing on him, I should say." 
 
 A second lounger caught up the remark. 
 "Full," he echoed, "oh, no, not for him. He's 
 sober as a church now. When he can walk, and 
 see where he's going, he's all right. You ought to 
 
 38
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 see him around the Club here some nights. Talk 
 about raising hell ! " 
 
 The first man yawned. " Well," he said slowly, 
 " it's like lots of other things. It's all right and 
 good fun for once in a way, but for a steady thing 
 why, Heaven help the poor devil that gets going 
 it and can't stop. There isn't any humor in it then. 
 Nothing jovial, or convivial, or anything else. It's 
 just simply damnable; that's what it is. And Jack 
 Carleton's too good a fellow to go that way. It's a 
 shame." 
 
 The second man nodded in answer. " That's 
 right enough," he assented, " and it's rough on his 
 old man, too. He's an awfully good sort, the old 
 chap. And Jack could amount to something, if he 
 wanted to. That's the bad part. He was never cut 
 out for a soak." 
 
 " Doesn't he do anything at all ? " some one 
 asked. 
 
 The first man shook his head. " Not a thing," 
 he answered. " The old man gives him an allow- 
 ance, I understand, or else he inherited something 
 
 39
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 from his mother; I don't really know which. And 
 Jack's 'playing Alcohol to win, I guess, and Subur- 
 ban Electric for place." He grinned at his own 
 joke. 
 
 The second man turned suddenly to Turner. 
 " Say, Jim, you know everything," he said ; " what 
 about this uncle of Jack's this Henry Carleton? 
 I seem to hear a lot about him lately. He's the 
 whole shooting-match down-town. What sort of 
 man is he, anyway ? " 
 
 Turner launched a little family of smoke rings 
 into the air, and watched them float upward before 
 he replied. " Oh, I don't know," he answered 
 indifferently, " he's smart as the devil, for one thing. 
 I know that for a fact." 
 
 " Yes, that's right," the first man chimed in, 
 " everybody says that. And yet, you know, it's 
 funny, but there's always something that strikes me 
 as disagreeable about that man's looks. He seems 
 so confoundedly self-assertive, and sure of him- 
 self, somehow." 
 
 Turner rose to take his departure. " Oh, I don't 
 know," he said again. " First we sit here and 
 
 40
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 damn a man for being a sport, and then we turn 
 around and damn another man because he's smart, 
 and we don't like his face. It's mighty easy to 
 criticize." He paused a moment, then added, with 
 what for him was almost an excess of feeling, " I'm 
 really sorry about Jack, though. It's too bad." 
 
 Meantime, once out in the street, the air seemed 
 for the moment to steady Carleton, and he started 
 off briskly enough for the South Station. As he 
 walked along, he pulled a letter fr.m his pocket, 
 read it through carefully, and then, as though striv- 
 ing to recall something that had escaped him, pro- 
 ceeded on his way with a puzzled and dissatisfied 
 expression on his face. " Friday, Friday," he mut- 
 tered to himself, " something else, but can't seem 
 to think what. Guess nothing important. Any- 
 way, can't think." 
 
 In due time he reached the station, and took his 
 stand opposite the gateway through which the pas- 
 sengers from the incoming Eversley train would 
 pass. There he stood, from time to time absent- 
 mindedly consulting his watch, until at length from 
 a distant rumble and cloud of smoke emerged the 
 
 41
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 "big engine, with flashing headlight and clanging 
 bell, and huge wheels revolving more and more 
 slowly until at length, with one last jerk, the whole 
 train came suddenly to a stand. Then under the 
 arc-light bustled forth the figures of the incoming 
 passengers first one, then another, then twos and 
 threes, lines, groups all hurrying, intent and 
 eager, bound for their destination, and restlessly 
 anxious to get there at once, wasting as little time 
 as possible in transit. Scrutinizing them with care, 
 it was not until the very end of the procession was 
 reached that Carleton started suddenly forward. At 
 the same instant the girl, discovered him, and came 
 quickly toward him. 
 
 Carleton's masculine eye could hardly have ap- 
 preciated all the details of her dress, yet the general 
 effect was certainly not lost on him. Knowledge 
 of the name of the dainty gown of blue and white 
 would probably have conveyed no impression to 
 his mind, but the way in which it fitted and the sig- 
 nificant emphasis it lent to the graceful lines of the 
 girl's figure were matters which he viewed with no 
 unappreciative eye. Surveying her critically as she 
 
 42
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 advanced, from head to foot, from the hat of simple 
 straw, with its clusters of blue flowers, to the tip of 
 the dainty slipper, with just a glimpse of silken 
 stocking above, he nodded in gracious approval. 
 The girl was certainly looking her best, her pretty 
 hair curling about her forehead in little clustering 
 rings, her face just delicately flushed with color, her 
 blue eyes very coquettish and very sparkling. 
 Doubtless, too, these same practised eyes lost noth- 
 ing of Carleton's condition, for it was with a cer- 
 tain easy assurance that she came up to him and 
 slipped her arm familiarly through his with a gentle 
 welcoming pressure, glancing up almost impudently 
 into his face. " Hullo, dear," she said, " and how's 
 Jack?" 
 
 Carleton looked down at her, an odd mixture of 
 emotions showing in his face; a certain satisfaction, 
 a certain shame, above all, a certain recklessness 
 the recklessness of the aristocrat who, with a shrug 
 of his shoulders, goes voluntarily out of his class, 
 fascinated beyond his strength, half scornful of 
 himself, and wholly regardless of what the conse- 
 quences may be. 
 
 43
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 " Oh, fine, thanks," he answered absently, and 
 then, as they emerged from the station into the 
 street, he returned the pressure of her arm. 
 " You're looking very pretty, Jeanne," he said, 
 " I'm glad I got your note." 
 
 They sauntered slowly up Union Street, the girl 
 chattering vivaciously, and glancing up at Carle- 
 ton as she talked, with a subtle and flatter- 
 ing attention; Carleton for the most part listening, 
 from time to time nodding or answering in mono- 
 syllables. At the up-town crossing they came to a 
 brief irresolute halt. " Well," said Carleton, " and 
 whash going to be to-night ? The river ? " 
 
 The girl, with a little smile, shook her head. 
 " No," she answered capriciously, " I'm tired of 
 the river. We've done that so often. I want a 
 motor to-night. A nice long ride. We'll have a 
 beautiful time." 
 
 Carleton doubtfully shook his head. He was in 
 a distinctly contradictory mood. " Nice long 
 ridsh," he observed, " in nice big motors, damn 
 'xpensive things for man that's short money. 
 Motors 'xpensive things; so's girls." 
 
 44
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 The girl laughed, but did not lack the cleverness 
 to see how her point might best be gained. " Are 
 you short of money, really ? " she said, with quick 
 sympathy. " Why, you poor old Jack, it's a shame. 
 We'll go on the river, then, in a little boat, all snug 
 and nice. You dear boy; you need some one to 
 comfort you," and the big blue eyes gazed up into 
 his, bold and unashamed. 
 
 She had comprehended his mood perfectly. In- 
 stantly his tone changed. " No, no," he answered 
 quickly, " won't do an'thing of the kind. Got little 
 money left for frens." He laughed uncertainly. 
 " 'F you want motor, you're going t' have motor. 
 That's all there 'sh to it. Do an'thing for you,. 
 Jeanne." 
 
 She smiled up at him with dangerous sweetness. 
 " You're so good to me, Jack," she murmured, and 
 the gentle pressure on his arm was in nowise 
 diminished. " You do everything for me. I 
 only wish sometimes I could do something for 
 you." 
 
 He gazed down at her, all that was weakest and 
 worst in his nature uppermost in his face. " Maybe 
 
 45
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 can," he said thickly, "maybe can; come on; we're 
 goin' get motor now." 
 
 At about the same hour that Carleton had left the 
 Mayflower, farther up town, in the reception-room 
 at the Press Club, Arthur Vaughan sat waiting for 
 his friend Helmar to return. He was a young man 
 of medium height and build, inclined to be a trifle 
 careless about his dress; his clothes a little thread- 
 tare ; his brown hair and mustache allowed to grow 
 a little too long; his carelessly knotted tie a good 
 year out of style. Yet his face, looked at more 
 closely, was distinctly good; a face somewhat thin 
 and worn; the mouth and chin nervous, sensitive; 
 the forehead high; the brown eyes straightforward 
 and kindly, the eyes of a man a little detached 
 from the world about him, a little inclined, on his 
 way through life, unconsciously to pause and dream. 
 
 Presently the door opened, and Helmar entered, 
 the expression on his face one of half -humorous 
 disgust. " Same old Jack Carleton," he said. 
 " He's not down-stairs, and it's five minutes of 
 eight. You're sure he understood ? " 
 
 46
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 i 
 
 Vaughan nodded. " Oh, perfectly," he answered,. 
 " I saw him Wednesday night, and told him that 
 your meeting had been changed to Thursday, so 
 that we'd have to put this thing over until to-night ; 
 and then I gave him Miss Graham's message, and 
 told him he'd have to square himself with her, be- 
 cause we couldn't put things off again. And I 
 remember his saying that it was all right for him; 
 I even recall his repeating it after me, as if he 
 wanted to make sure of it, ' seven-thirty, Press 
 Club; eight o'clock, theater; eleven o'clock, Press 
 Club, supper and talk ' ; oh, no, he understood all 
 right. I'm sure of it." 
 
 Helmar considered. " Well," he said at length, 
 " just because Jack's got a poor memory, I can't see 
 why we should miss a good show. Let's leave his- 
 ticket at the desk, and if he happens to drift in, all 
 right. Then he can come on after us. Isn't that 
 O. K. ? " and on Vaughan's assent, they left the 
 club for the theater, where in due course the cur- 
 tain rose, and later fell again upon an excellent per- 
 formance, indeed, but without revealing any sign of 
 the absent Carleton. Once outside in the street,, 
 
 47
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 Helmar turned to Vaughan. " Well, what next ? " 
 he queried. 
 
 Vaughan shrugged his shoulders. " Why, the 
 supper's ordered," he answered, " so I suppose we 
 might as well go ahead in solitary state. But it 
 rather takes the edge off the thing. It's too bad," 
 and a moment or two later he added, half to him- 
 self, and half to his companion, " I don't know what 
 to think of Jack, really." 
 
 Helmar made no answer, and it was not until the 
 supper was served in the little private room, and 
 the waiter had withdrawn, that they again returned 
 to the subject. " What is it about Jack, anyway? " 
 Helmar asked. " I was out at his place the other 
 day, and he seemed to be making no end of trouble ; 
 everybody stirred up about him. What's he been 
 doing?" 
 
 Vaughan helplessly shook his head. " Search 
 me," he answered, " you know I scarcely see him 
 now. He travels with a different crowd these days. 
 But I guess since he joined the Mayflower he's 
 changed quite a lot ; playing the market, I hear, and 
 
 48
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 drinking pretty hard, and sort of gone to pieces 
 generally." 
 
 Helmar looked thoughtful. "That's bad," he 
 said shortly, and after a pause, " Never happen to 
 hear any gossip about him and a girl, do you ? " 
 
 Again Vaughan shook his head. " No, I don't," 
 he answered, " if he's doing anything of that sort, 
 it's news to me. That is, I mean, anything really 
 out of the way. Jack likes a good time, of course ; 
 we've always known that; but I don't believe he's 
 that kind. I guess he's all right enough that way. 
 At any rate, I've always understood that he was 
 about as good as engaged to Marjory Graham, and 
 that ought to keep a fellow straight, if anything 
 could." 
 
 Helmar nodded. "Yes," he answered abruptly, 
 " I should say it ought. Well, never mind. Now 
 I want to hear how things are going with you, 
 Arthur. We'll talk about Jack later on." 
 
 And then, with the progress of the supper, the 
 talk ran along as such talks will; each telling of 
 past experiences, losses, gains; of future plans, 
 
 49
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 hopes, fears; speaking of classmates and friends; 
 skimming the passing events of the day; comparing 
 notes on the thousand and one subjects that crowd 
 the lips so readily when friends of long standing, 
 who meet but seldom, settle down to the luxury of 
 a leisurely, comfortable talk. 
 
 Meanwhile, far out on the Escomb Road, the big 
 motor bowled swiftly along. Carleton's arm was 
 around the girl's waist, her head was on his 
 shoulder, and she was smiling up into his face. 
 Very charming, very young and innocent she looked, 
 unless, in some occasional passing flash of light, one 
 could have seen the look in her eyes which lay be- 
 hind the smile. " Oh, this is so nice, Jack," she 
 murmured; even the tone of her voice was a subtle 
 caress, and she nestled a little closer to his side; 
 " I could keep on like this for ever ; you were so 
 good to take me, dear." 
 
 Carleton did not at once answer, and when he 
 did, his tone seemed scarcely sentimental. Drowsi- 
 ness, indeed, brought on by his many potations, 
 rather than sentiment, appeared to be the spell which 
 
 50
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 bound him, and his mind wandered irresponsibly in 
 a dozen different directions at one and the same 
 time. " Say," he asked suddenly, " how'd you 
 know where a letter'd get me, anyway ? " 
 
 Had the girl's mood been real, the matter-of- 
 fact, commonplace tone must have driven her to 
 sudden anger; as it was, her sense of humor saved 
 her, and after a moment or two, half in spite of 
 herself, she gave a little laugh. " Why," she an- 
 swered lightly, " from your good-looking friend,. 
 Doctor Helmar, of course," and the next instant she 
 could have bitten her tongue out for the chance 
 words, as Carleton, for the moment startled into 
 his senses, with a sudden exclamation sat bolt up- 
 right in his seat. " Helmar," he cried, as every- 
 thing in one instant's flash came back to him, " to- 
 night was the night. Oh, Lord, I wouldn't have 
 done this for a thousand dollars." Then leaning 
 forward, to the chauffeur, " Here there, you, stop a 
 minute ! " he cried ; and fumbling in his pocket for , 
 his watch, he glanced at it, and then looked quickly 
 around him. " Ten o'clock," he muttered, " we can 
 make it ; " then, aloud, " Put her round now, driver,, 
 
 51
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 and head her straight for town; let her out, and let 
 her go!" 
 
 With a surprised grin, the chauffeur slowly 
 slackened speed, reversed his power, and ponder- 
 ously turned the big car about. The girl mean- 
 time protested vigorously. " No, no/' she cried, 
 " why, Jack, we're almost out there now ; what do 
 you care for him, anyway? You wouldn't do a 
 thing like that, Jack. You've got better manners 
 than to leave me now. How shall I get home? 
 Now, Jack " 
 
 Carleton, with a most disconcerting lack of gal- 
 lantry, obstinately shook his head. " This very 
 important," he said, " we'll go back way of 
 Birches; leave ,you there; this 'xceedingly im- 
 portant. You don't understand. You never went 
 college. Quincentennial no, quinquecentennial, 
 no, quinquen oh, damn, five years out of college, 
 that's what it is. Special dinner. Oh, what a fool 
 I was to forget. How could I ? " 
 
 The girl sat with frowning brows. " Oh, very 
 well," she said, offended, " you needn't ask me to 
 go anywhere with you again ; that's all ; " and then, 
 
 52
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 this remark having no noticeable effect, she began 
 softly to cry. 
 
 Instantly Carleton's shifting mood had veered 
 again, and in a moment his arm was once more 
 around her waist, and he leaned protectingly over 
 her. 
 
 " Come, come," he cried, " don' do that. Can't 
 stan' that. We'll go out there s'mother time, my 
 dear. But not t'night, not t'night; special t'night; 
 special; awful good fellows, both of 'em; better'n 
 I am, damn sight. Both good fellows. Don't 
 cry." 
 
 With a quick, sinuous movement she wrenched 
 herself free, putting half the distance of the broad 
 cushioned seat between them. " Don't," she cried, 
 " I hate you ! " and in constrained and moody silence 
 the big motor whirred along upon its homeward 
 way. 
 
 Nor was home to be gained without further mis- 
 adventure. Presently, even before they had cov- 
 ered half the distance to The Birches, something 
 went wrong with the machine, and the chauffeur, 
 steering in close to the side of the road, dismounted 
 
 53
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 and began to search for the trouble, spurred on by 
 the accompaniment of Carleton's speech, which 
 seemed every moment to gain in picturesqueness 
 and force. Suddenly out of the darkness appeared 
 two broad white streaks of dazzling light, the wail 
 of a horn sounded in their ears, and another auto- 
 mobile passed them, to draw up, just beyond, with 
 a quick grinding and jarring of brakes. A friendly 
 voice hailed them. "Anything wrong? Help you 
 out ? " Carleton started at the words. He leaned 
 forward in the seat, and whispered hastily to the 
 chauffeur. Instantly the latter answered, " No 
 thank you, sir, nothing wrong," and the second 
 motor sped along upon its way. Carleton's brow 
 contracted. " Wonder if he saw," he muttered, 
 " light's pretty bright ; looked like Marjory, too ; 
 didn't know the colonel drove much at night, any- 
 way/' There was a moment's pause; then all at 
 once, he added, " Friday ! Friday ! Good God ! 
 that was the other thing. Damn the luck! 
 Damn everything ! " and mingling threats and en- 
 treaties, he renewed his urging to the worried 
 chauffeur. 
 
 54
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 An hour later, at the Press Club, Vaughan's 
 cigar was well under way, and Helmar was helping 
 himself to a second cup of coffee, when suddenly 
 the door burst open, and there appeared before 
 them the somewhat unsteady figure of their absent 
 friend. Before either of them could speak, he had 
 begun a rambling and incoherent apology, continu- 
 ing it as he sank limply into the chair reserved for 
 him. 
 
 " Must 'scuse me," was the burden of his speech, 
 " mem'ry comple'ly wen' back on me ; thoroughly 
 'shame myself " and there was much more in 
 the same vein; then, all at once reaching the senti- 
 mental stage of his orgy, he began to develop a 
 vein of maudlin self-pity; " Helmar," he cried 
 despairingly, " you been good fren' me always. I 
 tell you, 's no good. I try I try 's hard's anyone 
 and oh, Helmar " his voice broke, and with 
 a mixture of the ridiculous and the pathetic that 
 made both his hearers choke a little hysterically, 
 even while their eyes were moist, he culminated 
 despairingly, " 'S no use, fellers; 's no use; I'll tell 
 you where'm going; I'm going to hell in a hack; 
 
 55
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 thash what I am," and forthwith he laid his head 
 upon the table, and began to weep. 
 
 It was long after midnight when Helmar and 
 Vaughan finally deposited him, remonstrating and 
 unwilling, in safety at the Mayflower, leaving him 
 in skilful hands well versed in the treatment of his 
 malady, and found themselves, flushed, weary, and 
 not in the best of humors, again in the street. 
 
 " And so ends our great reunion," said Vaughan, 
 mopping his heated forehead. " Jack ought to 
 feel pleased with himself; he's certainly succeeded 
 in knocking all the pleasure out of it for everybody, 
 about as well as any one could. And I think, on 
 the whole, that I'm inclined to agree with him about 
 where he's bound." 
 
 Helmar sighed, a sigh of honest disappointment 
 and anxiety. " Jack's a mighty good fellow," he 
 answered, " but he's certainly in a bad way now. 
 If he ever means to amount to anything, he's got 
 to fight, and fight hard, too. Well, come on, 
 Arthur, I suppose we'd better get to bed," and thus 
 the long-planned quinquennial reunion came sadly 
 and dismally to an end. 
 
 56
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A FOOL AND HIS MONEY 
 
 " Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 JACK CARLETON stood in front of the ticker 
 in Turner and Driver's office, letting the nar- 
 row white ribbon run lightly through his fingers. 
 For the moment he was alone. The big clock over 
 on the post-office building had just boomed slowly 
 the hour of twelve, and the little knot of cus- 
 tomers, calmly or hurriedly, according to their 
 several temperaments, had one by one gone out to 
 lunch, for man must eat, though black care sit at 
 his elbow. And indeed, though the little ticker 
 still buzzed and whirred unceasingly, and the tape, 
 with scarcely a halt or pause in its onward course, 
 still ran as smoothly and persistently as ever, for 
 the moment the worst of the drive seemed really 
 to be over. So that presently Carleton lifted his 
 
 57
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 eyes, red-rimmed and tired from the blur of black 
 and white beneath them, letting the quotations run 
 on unheeded, and stood with eyes fixed on the spot 
 where, just visible through the very top of the tall 
 window, framed in with line and bar of blackened 
 roof and dingy chimney top, there smiled cheerfully 
 down into the gloom of the darkened office a 
 cloudless patch of bright blue sky. 
 
 Imperceptibly the sound of the ticker ceased, and 
 the white ribbon began fantastically to curl and 
 twist in his hand, for all unconsciously his fingers 
 had closed upon it, checking the smoothness of its 
 onward flow. The little patch of blue sky had sent 
 his thoughts wandering far afield. A moment be- 
 fore he had been standing there in the office, won- 
 dering miserably whether to try to pull out, while 
 there was yet time, with a good part of his little 
 fortune gone, or whether, with anchors grappling 
 desperately for holding ground, to strive some- 
 how to ride out the storm. And now, so long 
 had his mind run upon things trivial and unim- 
 portant, that despite the panic, despite the danger 
 he was in, thanks to that casual upward glance, 
 
 58
 
 A FOOL AND HIS MONEY 
 
 he stood already in imagination at the first tee at 
 the Country Ckib, the green of the valley lying 
 smooth and fair beneath him, the couple ahead 
 just disappearing over the farther dip of the hill, 
 and he himself, well-limbered up, driver in hand, 
 in the act of placing the new white ball on the 
 well-made tee, properly confident of smashing it 
 out a hundred and eighty yards away, amid the 
 close-cropped velvet of the rolling turf. Abso- 
 lutely a perfect day, he reflected, for the medal 
 round; no wind, a bright sun, greens quick, yet 
 true and above all, he felt that he could win. 
 Barnes was entered, of course, and Henderson 
 himself he was paired with him and Hender- 
 son had told Jake Rogers that since he had changed 
 his grip he could " put it all over " Carleton, match 
 or medal, any time they met. Rogers, with his 
 little crooked smile, had taken pains, of course, 
 to repeat the remark, and while Jack had laughed 
 and said, " Oh, sure, he can lick me all right," in 
 his own heart of hearts, nevertheless, he knew that 
 he could trim Henderson, and somewhat grimly 
 had awaited his chance. About a hundred and 
 
 59
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 sixty would do it, he figured; say a seventy-nine 
 to-day and an eighty-one to-morrow two such 
 perfect days in succession could hardly be yes, 
 about a couple of eighties would do the trick. 
 
 His vision faded as swiftly as it had come. 
 The green of the links had vanished, and in its stead 
 the four square walls of the office, swinging 
 smoothly into place, had closed tightly in again upon 
 him and his troubled fortunes. With a start, and a 
 half-guilty flush, he glanced hastily over the yard or 
 two of tape which he still held, looped and bent, in 
 his tense fingers. But to his relief, as he quickly 
 scanned the quotations, there seemed to be no 
 cause for further immediate alarm. On the con- 
 trary, the general tone of things was still improving. 
 Akme Mining was seventeen now, up two and a 
 quarter; Suburban Electric had rallied to sixty- 
 three; Fuel was up four, at eighty. With a sigh, 
 Carleton's feyes we're raised again to the patch of 
 blue sky. 
 
 And now into the office bustled Jim Turner, 
 hurried and preoccupied, showing plainly the nerv- 
 ous strain of the last three days, and especially of 
 
 60
 
 A FOOL AND HIS MONEY 
 
 that grim and ghastly yesterday, when for five end- 
 less hours it had seemed that the bottom of the 
 market, if not, indeed, of the earth itself, might 
 be going to fall out for ever and a day ; a troubled, 
 anxious time alike for broker and customer, banker 
 and depositor, a time when the emergency brakes 
 had been put on so suddenly and so hard that the 
 whole great financial stage-coach had come momen- 
 tarily to a standstill, with a jar so tremendous that 
 scores of passengers, especially those who occupied 
 only precarious standing-room, had been hurled 
 bodily to the ground, and some indeed, according to 
 the stern panic-law of self-preservation, had even 
 been quietly and with despatch pushed over the side, 
 in order to make better the chances of those remain- 
 ing for keeping in safety the threatened security of 
 their seats. 
 
 Turner headed straight for the ticker, as he 
 neared it striving, with an obviousness scarcely 
 reassuring, to appear cheerful and unconcerned. 
 " Hullo, Jack," he said, " how they coming now? " 
 and without waiting for a reply, gathered up a 
 dozen yards of the tape and let it pass quickly 
 
 61
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 under his practised eye. " H'm," he said, almost 
 immediately, in a tone that plainly enough showed 
 his relief, " not so bad, are they? Quite a lot bet- 
 ter than they were an hour ago. Oh, I guess we'll 
 come through it somehow, after all." 
 
 His tone gave Carleton measureless comfort. 
 He found himself nodding with assurance. " Oh, 
 yes," he answered, " they're really a lot better. I 
 guess things are all right now. Do you suppose, 
 Jim " he hesitated, stopped, and then, with a flush 
 of color, and his eyes averted from Turner's face, 
 " do you suppose, Jim, you'll be able to see me 
 through?" 
 
 Turner non-committally shrugged his shoulders. 
 " Why," he answered, not unkindly, " I guess so. 
 Yes, if things don't go all to the devil again, I 
 guess we can. But you're in too deep, Jack, for a 
 man that hasn't unlimited resources. It isn't right, 
 really. I'll stand by you as long as I can and 
 when I can't, I'll let you know and then, if you 
 can't do anything, and it gets too bad, why, busi- 
 ness is business, Jack, and we'll have to chuck you. 
 That's all we can do." 
 
 62
 
 A FOOL AND HIS MONEY 
 
 Carleton gazed at him a little helplessly; then 
 asked, " But you think the worst's over, don't you ? " 
 He spoke so trustfully, and with such confidence 
 in the other's judgment, that Turner gave a half- 
 contemptuous, half -embarrassed laugh. " Why, 
 yes," he answered slowly, " I think it is, but good 
 Lord, Jack, at a time like this I'm not on the inside. 
 I'm only one of the small fry. If I could tell you 
 what you wanted to know, instead of just guessing 
 at it, I wouldn't be here, working for a living; I 
 can tell you that; I'd be over touring the continent 
 in a big French six-cylinder. That's where I'd be." 
 He paused a moment ; then, laying a hand on Carle- 
 ton's arm, continued, " But to the best of my know- 
 ledge, I really think the worst is over, and that 
 things are going to right themselves. Gradually, 
 of course ; it's going to take time ; but they'll right 
 themselves, for all that. And I wouldn't worry 
 too much, Jack, if I were you. I'll give you warn- 
 ing anyway, and if worst should come to worst, 
 why, I suppose your old man would see you through, 
 wouldn't he, if it was a case of that or bust? " 
 
 Carleton shook his head. "No, I guess not," 
 63
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 he answered, " he would if he could, but there's 
 something queer about the property now. I didn't 
 know about it till a little while ago, and I don't un- 
 derstand all the details yet; but the idea is that my 
 father's made Henry trustee of everything. Henry's 
 the whole shooting-match at home now, you know. 
 So I guess it wouldn't do to try the old gentleman. 
 No, I've got in too deep, like a fool, and I've got to 
 get out by myself or else drown; one of the two. 
 But if I can only get by, this time, you can bet I'll 
 never be such an ass again. You see, Jim," he 
 added, ruefully fenough, " I wanted to show peo- 
 ple" 
 
 Turner laughed, though without amusement. 
 " Yes, I know," he said dryly, " you wanted to come 
 the young Napoleon racket. There've been others. 
 You needn't kick yourself for being the only one. 
 But there must be some one that would help you 
 out, Jack. Why couldn't you go to your uncle him- 
 self?" 
 
 He made the suggestion casually enough, yet 
 with a shrewd eye on the younger man's expression. 
 Carleton frowned. " Well," he answered doubt- 
 
 64
 
 A FOOL AND HIS MONEY 
 
 fully, " I'd hate to do that. You know what Henry 
 and I think of each other. I suppose I could, 
 though, if I was dead up against it. But I'm not 
 going to worry yet." He glanced once more at the 
 tape; then added, "Things really have steadied, 
 haven't they, Jim? I guess we're all safe for to- 
 day." 
 
 Turner did not at once reply. The events of the 
 last three days had to a large extent discouraged him 
 from hazarding further prophecies. " Can't tell," 
 he answered guardedly, at length, " can't tell these 
 days, but they've certainly steadied quite a bit ; that's 
 sure ; perhaps they'll begin to pick up now." 
 
 As he spoke, a clerk entered with a bundle of 
 papers in his hand. " For you to sign, Mr. 
 Turner," he sard, and Turner, taking them, de- 
 parted into his private office. One or two quick 
 lunchers, the vanguard of the returning stream of 
 regular patrons, came in at the outer door ; the first, 
 thin, pale and dyspeptic looking, making hastily for 
 the ticker, with no attempt to conceal his anxiety; 
 the other, stout, red-faced, and philosophic, fol- 
 lowing more calmly, his hat on the back of his 
 
 65
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 head, making leisurely exploration with a toothpick 
 the while, evidently with a certain not unpraise- 
 worthy desire to show that even in the throes of 
 a panic a man could still be game. As they ap- 
 proached, Carleton glanced first at the tape, then 
 at his watch, then at the patch of blue sky. The 
 tape said that Akme Mining was seventeen and a 
 quarter, and that Suburban Electric was sixty-four 
 and a half; the watch said that it was twelve- 
 fifteen, and that the twelve-thirty train would get 
 him to the Country Club in time for lunch; the 
 patch of blue sky said " Come." -With a rather 
 guilty haste he walked quickly toward the door, for 
 a moment paused on the threshold, still listening 
 to the whirring of the ticker; and then passed 
 hurriedly out into the street. 
 
 It was Championship Cup day at the Country 
 Club, and the locker room, when Carleton entered 
 it two hours later, was crowded with excited men 
 in various stages of dress and undress; men who 
 had entered the Club five minutes before as re- 
 spectable doctors, lawyers, bankers and business 
 
 66
 
 A FOOL AND HIS MONEY 
 
 men, and who, five minutes later, were to emerge in 
 a common indecorous garb of faded flannel shirt, 
 ding}' gray trousers and shapeless felt hats, mak- 
 ing their way toward the first tee with an eagerness 
 which in fulfilling their professional engagements, 
 they \vere seldom, if ever, seen to display. 
 
 Carleton, entering, with the mechanical dexterity 
 of long habit, almost with one motion stripped off 
 coat and vest, collar and tie, and opening his 
 locker, began pulling out his clubs and his bat- 
 tered golfing clothes. He affected not to see Hen- 
 derson, thin and spare and brown, seated on a 
 bench with knees drawn up under his chin and 
 clasped by bare, sinewy arms. 
 
 Presently his rival rose and sauntered over to 
 him across the room. He stood near Carleton in 
 silence, and the two eyed each other with grins, 
 hostile, yet friendly. Finally Henderson spoke. 
 " Well," he observed, without enthusiasm, " how r 's 
 the boy? Looking a little bit fine, what? A little 
 bit pale for him, hey?" Carleton laughed, with 
 elaborate disdain. " Oh, no, Tommy," he re-
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 turned, " can't catch me that way. That's too old 
 a gag. Never felt better in my life, thanks. How 
 are they scoring? Barnes finished yet? " 
 
 Henderson nodded. " Played this morning," he 
 said, " was going fine till the eighteenth, and then 
 drove into the quarry, and dropped his nerve. 
 Cost him nine for the hole, and did an eighty-five 
 at that. Said his caddie moved just as he was 
 swinging back for his drive; too bad, wasn't it? " 
 
 His tone belied the grief expressed by his last 
 words, and at his humorous wink Carleton openly 
 smiled. Both could exult in the common enjoy- 
 ment of seeing a dangerous rival put out of the 
 running. " Yes, too bad," he rejoined, " his 
 eighty-five the best ? " 
 
 Henderson shook his head. " No," he answered, 
 " fellow from Brooklawn did an eighty-three. 
 Nothing much else under ninety, though; one or 
 two eighty-nines, I believe, and an eighty-eight; 
 better get limbered up a bit, Jack; it's getting near 
 our turn. See you outside." 
 
 Carleton nodded, tightened his belt another hole, 
 and reached for his clubs. Then, for a moment 
 
 68
 
 A FOOL AND HIS MONEY 
 
 turning his back on the crowded room, he held out 
 his hand, scanning the fingers critically. His ideas 
 of conditioning himself were his own. He frowned 
 slightly, shaking his head in displeasure. " That's 
 the first time that's happened agair so soon," he 
 muttered, " I thought I looked out for that this 
 morning. Well, I know the answer, anyway," and 
 a couple of minutes later, wiping his lips with his 
 handkerchief, he joined Henderson outside the 
 club-house, and began leisurely to limber up. 
 
 It was a quarter of an hour later when, in an- 
 swer to their names, they stepped forward to the 
 first tee. Henderson, having the honor, surveyed his 
 footing with care, and then, absolutely cool and 
 phlegmatic, teed his ball, eyed the direction flag 
 \vaving on the cop bunker some seventy yards away, 
 and with his provokingly easy swing drove a ball 
 without much " ginger " behind it, a trifle high yet 
 superlatively safe, unerring in direction and with 
 some distance to it as well, for the road was a full 
 hundred and fifty yards from the tee, and the little 
 white sphere stood out plainly against the green of 
 the turf some twenty yards beyond. Still with the 
 
 69
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 utmost deliberation he stepped back off the tee, and 
 Carleton took his place. His style was almost the 
 antithesis of Henderson's. His tee was scarcely 
 more than a pinch of the damp sand, just enough to 
 insure a good lie for his ball; almost negligently, 
 it seemed, he fell at once into his stance, swinging 
 back with an astonishing freedom, yet with com- 
 plete mastery of a somewhat dashing style, and 
 coming through into a finish absolutely superb. 
 Low and straight sped his ball, hardly more than 
 twenty feet over the top of the bunker; then, be- 
 ginning slowly to rise, soaring magnificently on- 
 ward, finally to come to a stop some fifty or sixty 
 yards beyond the road. Henderson whistled as 
 they walked down the path. " Some one's feeling 
 fine," he said. " Glad you got in one good one, any- 
 way, Jack." 
 
 Carleton smiled grimly. " Oh, a few more at 
 home like that I guess," he retorted, " you've got to 
 crack an eighty to-day, Tommy, if you want to be 
 in the game." 
 
 His second shot, indeed, seemed to bear out his 
 words. Henderson had taken an iron, cleared the 
 
 70
 
 A FOOL AND HIS MONEY 
 
 bunker that guarded the green, and was safely on. 
 its farther edge in two, but Carleton, playing a 
 high, clean mashie, with plenty of back-spin, man- 
 aged to lay his ball up within a dozen feet of the 
 flag. On the green Henderson putted true and 
 straight, his ball stopping so near the hole as to 
 make a four a certainty. Carleton, with a little 
 more deliberation than he had yet shown, eyed 
 the line of his put. " Easy," he muttered to him- 
 self, half-aloud, "nothing to it; easiest thing you 
 know; just get the line, follow her through, and 
 she goes down." 
 
 With the final word the ball ticked against the 
 farther edge of the cup, and dropped gently in for 
 a three. Henderson, holing out, whistled again. 
 " Somebody's got their good eye with 'em," he 
 observed, and Carleton, picking up his ball, drew 
 a long breath of content. " Oh, the devil," he 
 answered good-naturedly, "this is one of my days; 
 I can do anything I want to to 'em to-day; " and in 
 silence they strode away for the second tee. 
 
 Outward for the first nine holes they played, into^ 
 a world, green under foot and blue and white above,.
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 the sunshine just pleasantly warm, the cool westerly 
 breeze barely stirring the green leaves in the tree- 
 tops, and faintly rousing the drooping direction 
 flags below. A world of good-fellowship, a world 
 of youth and joy, and withal, the rigor of the game 
 to make them at times wholly unconscious, at times 
 all the more conscious, of the glory above, around, 
 beneath them. Henderson, the safe and sane, was 
 on his game, making the first nine holes in an even 
 forty, but Carleton played beyond himself. Twice 
 only on the outward journey did he make mis- 
 takes, and for both he atoned by pulling off two 
 shots well-nigh marvelous one a clean, slash- 
 ing brassie that put him on the edge of the green 
 on the long fifth four hundred and fifty yards 
 in two; one a straight, deadly put of twenty-five 
 feet at the eighth; no wonder that Henderson un- 
 willingly totaled a thirty-six for his rival, puck- 
 ered his lips, but this time without the whistle, 
 and mournfully shook his head. Coming in, in- 
 deed, Carleton's pace slackened a bit, and his play- 
 ing became, in Henderson's phrase, " considerably 
 more like a human being's." Mistakes, one or two 
 
 72
 
 A FOOL AND HIS MONEY 
 
 of them costly, were not lacking; his putting fell off 
 a bit; his confidence seemed a little to diminish; 
 yet, spite of all, he still played brilliantly, and 
 when on the eighteenth, he drove a long, straight 
 ball, far over the quarry, with no danger be- 
 tween him and the home hole, Henderson was 
 forced to admit defeat. He himself finished as 
 steadily as ever, coming in without any serious 
 error, without anything especially brilliant, with a 
 card all fours and fives, in forty-two, and thus 
 handed it an eighty-two for the round. Carle- 
 ton's card in was more irregular; it was marred 
 by two sixes, but these were balanced by two threes 
 and an occasional four, altogether forty-one for 
 the second nine, and a total of seventy-seven. 
 Surely, the gold medal lay all but in his grasp, 
 and Henderson, indeed, had the grace to acknow- 
 ledge it. " You're all right, Jack," he said, as they 
 parted, " see you to-morrow afternoon, but I guess 
 you've got things cinched ; this is your lucky day ; " 
 and Carleton, though perforce he shrugged his 
 shoulders and said that no one could ever tell, felt 
 in his heart that the prize was as good as won. 
 
 73
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 At the club-house he dressed, and then, finding 
 that he had plenty of time, walked leisurely down to 
 the train, and started back for town. For a while, 
 just comfortably tired with the afternoon's round, 
 he was content to sit back in his seat with passive 
 enjoyment, with eyes half closed, playing over 
 again each stroke of the round in pleasant retro- 
 spect, again smashing straight low balls from the 
 tee, again laying up his approach shots, again suc- 
 cessfully holing long, difficult puts. It made pleas- 
 ant enough dreaming, and he sat thus until Hillside 
 was reached. 
 
 Then suddenly, two men, entering hurriedly, took 
 the vacant seat behind him, evidently resuming their 
 conversation where it had been broken off as they 
 had boarded the train. Their first words drove 
 golf a million miles from his brain. " So it busted 
 clean to hell, did it? " asked the stout man, panting 
 with haste and excitement. 
 
 "Did it?" echoed his companion, with a cer- j 
 tain dismal pride, the sense of proprietorship that 
 one gains in the communication of bad news, 
 "well, I should say it did. Didn't begin till two 
 
 74
 
 A FOOL AND HIS MONEY 
 
 o'clock, and then, say, you never saw such a time 
 in your life. Smash Bang Smash! Every- 
 thing thrown over, right and left; why, down at 
 Wellman's " 
 
 The train roared into the long tunnel, and the 
 rest of the sentence was lost. It was enough, and 
 Carleton, sitting motionless, felt a sudden sicken- 
 ing reaction creep over him. A game of golf - 
 a gold medal and the market again in the grip 
 of a panic beside which the first break of three 
 days ago must have been as nothing. And then, 
 insistently, he began to wonder how bad how 
 bad? His margin had been slender enough before 
 - hardly sufficient, really, to pass muster unless 
 tinctured with the dangerous kindness of friend- 
 ship ' he clenched his hands; his mouth had gone 
 suddenly dry 
 
 Inside the smoky station the train came to a halt. 
 Alighting, he paused to buy the evening papers 
 from a clamorous newsboy; then without stopping 
 even to glance at them, hastened straight to his 
 office. It was long after the hour of closing. The 
 office boy was gone, the door made fast. Un- 
 
 75
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 locking it, he entered, sat down at his desk, and 
 began hastily to examine the letters and memo- 
 randa reposing there. " Ring up Mr. Turner," 
 was penciled half a dozen times in the office boy's 
 round, sprawling hand, with various additions, " Im- 
 portant," "Urgent," "At once." "Ring 698, 
 Lincoln ; " that was Harris and Wheeler's ; " Ring 
 Main, 422 ; " that was Claxton Brothers. He 
 turned to the papers. Lord above, what head- 
 lines! Panic market crash houses suspended 
 banks in danger half dazed, he gazed for a 
 moment around him, as if doubting that it could 
 all be real; then, with a grim feeling that nothing 
 could much matter now, he read steadily the long 
 rows of stock quotations ; and ever, as he read down 
 a column, values dropped downward with him, and 
 never, as he turned to the top of the next, did they 
 rise again. Once more he had to stop, unable to 
 grasp the truth; Akme Mining, nine and a half; 
 Suburban Electric, forty-seven; Fuel, sixty-three; 
 it was all impossible. 
 
 Through the slide in the office door a letter flut- 
 tered gently to the floor. He rose and picked it 
 
 76
 
 A FOOL AND HIS MONEY 
 
 up. It had Turner's name in the corner. Inside 
 was a hasty scrawl, " Things very bad ; must have 
 ten thousand additional margin at opening to- 
 morrow, sure." As he laid it down, the telephone 
 rang; "Yes," he answered, "Mr. Harris; oh, yes, 
 I know; five thousand; yes; thanks; you've got to 
 have it at the opening; all right; good-by." He 
 hung up the receiver, and turned to confront a 
 telegraph boy at his elbow. He hastily signed, and 
 ripped open the envelope. This time the laconic 
 message was from Claxton Brothers. "Good," he 
 muttered, " only five thousand more. This is fine," 
 and he threw himself back in his office chair, and for 
 a moment or two thought hard. Then he smiled 
 ironically. " Oh, yes," he muttered, " Henderson 
 got it right, as usual; this is certainly my lucky 
 day ; " then after a moment, he added, " Well, I 
 suppose it's a case of must now. It's all I can do." 
 He rose, shrugging his shoulders, and thrusting 
 the papers into his pocket, he hurriedly left the 
 office. 
 
 77
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A QUESTION OF HONOR 
 
 "What is left when honour is lost?" 
 
 Publius Syrus. 
 
 TWILIGHT was falling over The Birches, and 
 Edward Carleton, seated alone on the piazza, 
 gazed out over the darkening fields into a world 
 of ever blending shadows and onward creeping 
 dusk. Always, as long as the weather permitted, 
 after his evening meal, he loved to sit there, puff- 
 ing quietly at his big, old-fashioned, curved pipe, 
 and letting his memory roam back at will through 
 scene after scene from the long years that now lay 
 behind him; or sometimes, more rarely, living in 
 the present, content merely to gaze out on blos- 
 soming flower, and tree in full leaf; to watch the 
 fiery colors of the sunset glow and die in the far- 
 off west ; to hear from the orchard across the road 
 a robin singing his good-night song; to listen to 
 
 78
 
 A QUESTION OF HONOR 
 
 the thousand wonderful secrets which Nature at 
 the last loves to whisper to those who have lived 
 their lives pure in deed and word, and who have 
 journeyed far onward into the shadow, still kindly 
 and serene, with the wonderful dreams of childhood 
 making beautiful their minds, and in their hearts 
 the faith of little children. 
 
 Often Henry Carleton sat there with him, but 
 to-night the old man was alone. An hour ago, a 
 message had come from Henry, saying that he 
 would not be home until the following evening 
 perhaps not even then that business matters of 
 importance had arisen, making it necessary that he 
 should remain in town. Characteristic of Henry 
 Carleton's unfailing thought fulness the message 
 had been, and it was of his brother, and, with a half- 
 sigh, of Jack as well, that Edward Carleton was 
 thinking now, as the darkness pressed closer and 
 closer around the old house that had sheltered for 
 so many generations so many fathers and sons of 
 the Carleton blood. 
 
 From the entrance to the gravel walk, the sound 
 79
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 of footsteps smote briskly on his ear and he 
 glanced up to see a tall and familiar figure coming 
 up the path. A moment later, and Jack had 
 hastily mounted the steps, scarce seeming to heed 
 his father's greeting, and speaking at once, in a 
 voice strangely unlike his own. " Father/' he said, 
 "where's Henry?" 
 
 The old man gazed at him in surprise. " He's 
 not at home, Jack," he answered, and then, with a 
 momentary foreboding, " What is it, my boy ? 
 Nothing wrong ? " 
 
 Jack laughed, a little grimly. " No, nothing like 
 that," he answered, " I'm in trouble, that's all. I've 
 stayed too long in a falling market, and got caught. 
 If I can't get help from Henry, I guess I'm done." 
 
 In the darkness Edward Carleton reached out 
 his hand, and laid it on his son's shoulder. " My 
 dear boy," he said, " I'm sorry. If only Henry has 
 the money available. But I don't know. These 
 must be terrible times for every one. Tell him if 
 there's any way he can use what he holds for me, 
 that I asked him to do so. I'm so sorry, Jack 
 so sorry " 
 
 80
 
 A QUESTION OF HONOR 
 
 With what was for him unusual feeling, Jack took 
 his father's hand in both his awn. " Thank you, 
 father," he said, " I know you are. It's all my 
 own fault, of course. I don't deserve any help. 
 But it's all come so suddenly. I never thought " 
 
 He broke off abruptly, then spoke again. " Well, 
 I suppose I must get back in town, I haven't much 
 time. I never dreamed of not rinding Henry here. 
 I'm sorry I can't stay. Good night, father," and 
 he was gone. 
 
 It was nearly two hours later when he hastened 
 down Adams Street toward the Harmon Building, 
 where high overhead in many a window, lights 
 ordinarily extinguished by five or six o'clock, were 
 still burning brightly; some of them, indeed, des- 
 tined to gleam and flicker throughout that long, 
 anxious summer's night, and only to pale at last as 
 the first faint streaks of dawn struck through the 
 shades on the men who planned and toiled within, 
 working feverishly, with gray, unshaven faces, and 
 weary, bloodshot, deep-sunken eyes. 
 
 Getting out of the elevator at the fourth floor, 
 Jack hastily made his way into Henry Carleton's 
 
 81
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 offices. Once there, however, although his name 
 was quickly sent in, he was compelled to wait 
 for a full half hour in the outer corridor, until at 
 length a bell rang sharply, and a tired looking clerk, 
 with a nod of his head toward the inner office, sig- 
 nified that the audience was granted. With a cur- 
 ious sense of old-time familiarity, Jack entered the 
 big square room which he had visited last, now up- 
 ward of three years ago, and closed the door be- 
 hind him. 
 
 Over by the window, Henry Carleton was seated 
 at his desk. He was a man of about fifty, in com- 
 plexion so dark as to appear almost swarthy, and 
 with coal black hair and beard, here and there just 
 faintly touched with gray. He was tall, much of 
 Jack's height and build, yet constructed upon finer 
 lines, with a sinuous grace of movement that had 
 about it something almost feline. His face was 
 rather long, the forehead and cheek-bones high, 
 the eyes were black and piercing, and the lips of the 
 strong, well-chiseled mouth noticeably full and 
 red. Altogether, an interesting face, a fitting index 
 to the dual personality of the man Henry Carle- 
 
 82
 
 A QUESTION OF HONOR 
 
 ton the shrewd and able leader in the business 
 world, and Henry Carleton the musician and man 
 of letters the artist to his finger-tips. 
 
 As Jack entered, he glanced up pleasantly enough, 
 though far back in his eyes there lurked a hidden 
 gleam of some emotion difficult to fathom. " Why, 
 hello, Jack," he said, " I'm surprised to see you. 
 What brings you here? Sit down." He motioned 
 toward a chair. 
 
 Jack Carleton came fonvard into the room, stand- 
 ing a little awkwardly with his hand on the back of 
 the proffered seat. " It's the market, Henry," he 
 said briefly, " I've got caught. I have to raise 
 twenty thousand by the opening to-morrow, or go 
 under. I've just come from home; I thought I'd 
 find you there. I'll tell you the truth. I hate like 
 hell to come to you, and you know it, but I've got 
 to get the money somehow, and if you can help me, 
 I wish to Heaven you would." 
 
 Henry Carleton gazed at him meditatively. 
 " Better sit down," he said curtly, and this time 
 Jack accepted the invitation. There was a short 
 silence. Then Henry Carleton drew a tiny note- 
 
 83
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 book from his pocket, and looked up, with pencil 
 poised, " Now let's have it," he said. 
 
 Jack Carleton frowned. It was easy enough to 
 see that the confession of his sins was little less 
 than torture to him. " Well," he began, a trifle 
 defiantly, " it's like this. I've got in a trifle 
 deeper than I meant to when I started. Things 
 looked so like a cinch, I couldn't help it. I've fif- 
 teen hundred shares of Surburban Electric, and 
 seven hundred Akme Mining, and five hundred 
 Fuel, and a little other stuff besides. My heaviest 
 account's with Turner and Driver; then I've got 
 an account with Harris and Wheeler, and another 
 with Claxton Brothers; altogether " 
 
 Piece by piece the whole story came out. Henry 
 Carleton wrote, figured, meditated; asked a ques- 
 tion here, another there; meditated again. Finally 
 he seemed to make up his mind. He spoke with 
 deliberation, weighing his words. " No one can 
 tell," he said, " what the next twenty-four hours are 
 going to bring. But what you ought to do is 
 clear. You've got to lighten up, to start with. 
 Close out your account with Harris, and with the 
 
 84
 
 A QUESTION OF HONOR 
 
 Claxtons ; hang on to what you have at Turner and 
 Driver's, if you can. That's enough; and that's 
 our problem: how best to try to carry it through." 
 
 As if the words brought him measureless com- 
 fort, Jack drew a long breath of relief. "You 
 think, then," he asked, almost timidly, " you can 
 fix it somehow? You think you can get me by? " 
 
 Henry Carleton did not at once reply, and when 
 he finally spoke, it was but to answer Jack's ques- 
 tion with another. " Have you done everything 
 you can yourself? " he queried. " Where else have 
 you tried ? " 
 
 Jack gave a short mirthless laugh. " Where 
 haven't I tried? " he retorted. " I've tackled about 
 every friend and acquaintance I've got in the world. 
 I began four days ago. And I've had the same 
 identical come-back from every one of them. 
 They're sorry, but they have to look out for them- 
 selves first And security. They all talk about 
 that. I never knew before that security cut such 
 a lot of ice with people. But it does." 
 
 Henry Carleton nodded grimly. " Yes, it does,' r 
 he answered dryly, " most of us make that discovery 
 
 85
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 sooner or later. And generally for ourselves, too. 
 And when you mention security, Jack, you've come 
 right down to the root of the whole trouble. We 
 might as well acknowledge it now. I can't help 
 you myself. I tell you so frankly. I couldn't use 
 trust funds for such a purpose, of course. Any one 
 would tell you that. That's out of the question. 
 And my own money is hopelessly tied up. I 
 couldn't get the sum you need under a month, if I 
 could then. But there's one thing I might do. 
 It isn't business. I hate to try it. But I don't want 
 to see you disgraced, Jack, if I can help it. Wait 
 here a minute, till I see " 
 
 He rose and walked over to the telephone booth 
 in the rear of his office, and entering, closed the door 
 behind him. In two minutes he came back to his 
 desk, penciled a name on a card, and handed it to 
 Jack. " This fellow Farrington," he said shortly, 
 " is under some obligations to me. I think you'll 
 get what you want from him. Better see him any- 
 way. He's in the Jefferson Building, top floor. I 
 told him you'd be there in ten minutes, at the most." 
 
 Jack Carleton rose. " I'm much obliged, 
 86
 
 A QUESTION OF HONOR 
 
 Henry," he said, a little lamely, " you're very good. 
 I'm much obliged. I'll go right over, of course." 
 
 The other stood gazing at him with a curious ex- 
 pression on his swarthy face, a curious gleam far 
 back in his dark eyes. " Don't mention it," he 
 said smoothly, " Carletons must stand together, 
 Jack. We mustn't bring dishonor on the name, 
 whatever we do." 
 
 Unerringly he had pierced the /veak joint in the 
 armor. Jack's face went whiter than before. He 
 stood for a moment silent, then spoke with effort. 
 " No," he answered, " we mustn't do that," and 
 turning, he left the room. 
 
 Up-town toward the Jefferson Building he hur- 
 ried, half-daring, yet half-fearing, to hope. Noting 
 the number of the room on the framed directory 
 placarded within, he kft the elevator at the tenth 
 floor, and hastening down the corridor, paused op- 
 posite the door. Externally the office was a modest 
 one, with " H. O. Farrington, Agent " inscribed in 
 plain black lettering on the glass. Entering, he 
 found the interior to correspond. A tiny room, 
 with a small enclosure at one end, within which sat 
 
 87
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 Farrington himself, a man perhaps best described 
 by saying that he perfectly typified that somewhat 
 vague being whom most of us have in mind when 
 we speak glibly of the " average man." " Aver- 
 age " best described him in height, build, and ap- 
 pearance, the nondescript sort of person whom one 
 meets on Monday, and passes in the street on Tues- 
 day, wholly unconscious of ever having seen him 
 before. 
 
 As Jack entered, he glanced up quickly. " Mr. 
 Carleton?" he questioned, and as Jack nodded, 
 motioned to a chair. " Just a minute," he said, and 
 bent over his writing again. Presently, as he 
 stopped, and reached for a sheet of blotting paper, 
 Jack ventured to speak. " I don't know how much 
 you know about this " he began, but the other 
 raised his hand. " All right," he said briefly, and 
 shoved a check and a receipt across the desk, " Sign, 
 please." 
 
 Mechanically Jack glanced at the check. It was 
 for the amount required. Mechanically, too, he 
 signed the receipt, and handed it back to Farring- 
 ton. Half unable to realize his good fortune, he 
 
 88
 
 A QUESTION OF HONOR 
 
 rose, the check in his hand. " I'm greatly obliged,'* 
 he said. 
 
 Farrington made no reply. Evidently words 
 with him were precious things. Perforce Jack 
 turned to go, and then, half-way to the door, 
 turned. 
 
 " Mr. Farrington," he said hesitatingly, " if things 
 should go lower " 
 
 Farrington did not look up. " They won't/' he 
 said tersely. 
 
 Again Jack hesitated. Then, finally, " But if 
 they should---" he said again. 
 
 A little impatiently, Farrington raised his head. 
 " We'll see you through," he said. " Good night." 
 And Jack, not disposed to quarrel further with for- 
 tune, closed the door behind him. 
 
 It was a quarter of ten on the morning following 
 when he entered Turner and Driver's office, ad- 
 vancing to meet the senior partner with the little 
 strip of paper in his outstretched hand. Turner 
 took it eagerly enough, and as he scanned the 
 amount, he nodded, while a wrinkle or two seemed 
 to vanish from his puckered and frowning brow. 
 
 89
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 Then he looked up. " Well, you got it," he said, 
 and Carleton hastened to assent. " Oh, yes," he 
 returned lightly, " I got it all right. Why, didn't 
 you think I would ? " 
 
 The broker shrugged his shoulders. " Hard 
 telling anything these days," he answered, " but 
 I'll tell you one thing, though ; you're mighty lucky 
 to be able to put your hands on it so easy. There'll 
 be more than one poor devil this morning who 
 would pretty near give his soul for a tenth part of 
 what you've got here. It's a bad time for custom- 
 ers, Jack, and I don't mind telling you " he low- 
 ered his voice confidentially " that it's a bad time 
 for brokers, too. A little piece of paper like 
 this " he waved the check gently to and fro 
 " is a nice comforting sight for a man ; between you 
 and me, I wouldn't mind seeing three or four mates 
 to it. Yes, I'm glad to get it all right, on my ac- 
 count, and on yours, too." 
 
 Jack nodded. Somehow, entirely without justi- 
 fication, as he well knew, the check had given him a 
 feeling of great stability; at once, on receiving it, 
 he had felt that he had risen in his own self-esteem. 
 
 90
 
 A QUESTION OF HONOR 
 
 " Yes," he assented, " I'm glad myself ; and you 
 needn't worry about my account, Jim. We'll just 
 leave it this way. Don't treat mine as an ordinary 
 account ; don't sell me out, whatever happens. I've 
 friends that'll see me through anything. If 
 things should go lower, and you should need more 
 margin, just let me know, and I'll get it over to you 
 right away. Will that be satisfactory?" 
 
 The broker nodded. "Why, yes, Jack," he an- 
 swered, " knowing the way you're fixed, I guess 
 that'll be all right, though with nine men out of 
 ten, of course I wouldn't consider such a way of 
 doing things. Business is business, and when it 
 comes right down to the fine point, why, it's the 
 cold hard cash that counts, and nothing else; not 
 friendship, or honor, or gratitude, or common de- 
 cency, even " both face and voice had hardened 
 as he spoke; it was not his first panic and then 
 his look met Carleton's fairly and squarely. " But 
 with you, Jack," he continued, " it's different, as I 
 say. Only let's be perfectly sure that we under- 
 stand each other. I don't believe myself, you know, 
 that things can go much lower ; I think the chances 
 
 91
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 are they've steadied for good; but for argument, 
 let's suppose they do. Then, as I understand it, 
 you don't want to have me sell you out at any price, 
 no matter how far they break. You'll make good 
 any time I ask you to. You give me your word 
 on that ? " 
 
 Carleton readily enough assented. " Why, sure," 
 he answered lightly, "of course I do; you needn't 
 worry; I'll make good," and the broker nodded, 
 well pleased. 
 
 " One thing less to bother over, then," he said. 
 " You'll excuse me now, Jack, won't you ? This is 
 going to be a horrible busy day, anyway, and the 
 Lord send it's nothing worse than that ; it wouldn't 
 take much now to raise the very deuce." 
 
 As he spoke the News Despatch boy entered, 
 tossing down on the table a half dozen sheets fresh 
 from the press. Turner glanced at them, and 
 handed them over to Carleton, shaking his head as 
 he did so. " London's not feeling gay," he ob- 
 served, " I call that a pretty ragged opening my- 
 self. I don't know what you think of it." 
 
 Carleton read and nodded. It seemed as if 
 92
 
 A QUESTION OF HONOR 
 
 everything in the haff dozen pages made for dis- 
 couragement. London had opened weak lament- 
 ably weak. There were rumors of this rumors 
 of that sickly, unhealthy mushroom growths of 
 the night. There was talk of failures suspen- 
 sions financial troubles of every kind even the 
 good name of a great bank was bandied carelessly 
 to and fro. Silently Turner crossed the room, and 
 took his seat at his desk; silently Carleton walked 
 out into the customers' room, and joined the other 
 unfortunates who had come slowly straggling in,, 
 and who now stood around the ticker, waiting 
 gloomily and apprehensively for the opening bell to 
 ring. 
 
 The tension of the moment was plainly enough 
 to be read in the attitudes and expressions of the 
 members of the little group, not one of whom failed 
 in some manner or other to betray the fact that he 
 was far from possessing his usual poise and calm. 
 Most of them, either consciously or unconsciously, 
 showed their nervousness so plainly and even pain- 
 fully that it was impossible to misinterpret the anx- 
 ious glances cast first at the clock, then at the tape, 
 
 93
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 as the moment of the opening drew near. One or 
 two, indeed, essayed a nonchalance so obviously as- 
 sumed as to render even more apparent the emotion 
 it sought to conceal. One young fellow, with hat 
 shoved far back on his head, hair in disorder, and a 
 restless, frightened look in his eyes, glanced at 
 Carleton as he approached. 
 
 " How you standing it, Jack ? " he queried, with 
 a faint attempt at jocularity. " Bad night to sleep 
 last night, 7 called it ; guess most likely 'twas some- 
 thing in the air." 
 
 Another man, he of the toothpick, stout and 
 coarse, held forth at some length for the benefit of 
 the rest. " Oh, it was perfectly clear, the whole 
 thing," he was saying, with the air of one to whom 
 all the mysteries and marvels of stock fluctuations 
 are but as matters writ large in print the most plain. 
 " You see Rockman and Sharp and Haverfeller got 
 together on this thing, and then they had a confer- 
 ence with Horgan, and got him to say that he'd keep 
 his hands off, and let things alone ; then they had a 
 clear chance, and you can see what they've done 
 
 94
 
 A QUESTION OF HONOR 
 
 with it ; oh, they're clever all right ; when those fel- 
 lows get together, it's time to look out; you can't 
 beat 'em." 
 
 He spoke with a certain condescending finality, as 
 if he had somehow once and for all fixed the status 
 of the panic. After a moment or two a gray, 
 scholarly looking little man, with gentle, puzzled 
 eyes, addressed him, speaking with an air of timid 
 respect for the stout man's evident knowledge. 
 
 " Do you imagine, sir," he asked, " that securi- 
 ties will decline still further in value? If they 
 should, I am afraid that I might find myself ser- 
 iously involved. I can't seem to understand this 
 whole affair ; I was led to believe " 
 
 The big man, charmed with the novelty of having 
 a genuine, voluntary listener, interrupted him at 
 once. 
 
 " Oh, you don't have to worry," he said largely, 
 " they might open 'em off a little lower, perhaps, 
 but they'll go back again. Don't you fret ; the coun- 
 try's all right; they'll come back; they always do." 
 
 The little man seemed vastly comforted. " I'm 
 95
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 very glad to hear you say so," he answered. " It 
 would come very hard I had no idea the risk was 
 so great I was led to believe " 
 
 The young man with the rumpled hair turned a 
 trifle disgustedly to Carleton. " Heard from Lon- 
 don?" he asked abruptly. His brief, and not 
 wholly unintelligent connection with the game had 
 led him to believe firmly in facts and figures, not in 
 the dangerous pastime of theorizing over values, or 
 speculating as to what the next move of the " big 
 fellows " might be. 
 
 Carleton nodded. " Weak," he answered, his 
 tone pitched low and meant for his neighbor's ear 
 only, " horribly weak; and all sorts of stories start- 
 ing, too; it looks as bad as it could." 
 
 The young man nodded. " I supposed so," he 
 said, with resignation, and then added whimsically, 
 " Well, there's no use crying about it, I guess, but 
 it certainly looks as if this was the time when little 
 Willie gets it good and plenty, right in the neck." 
 
 Just in front of them, a pale, slender man, with 
 blinking eyes, and a mumbling, trembling mouth 
 that was never still, talked steadily in an under- 
 
 96
 
 A QUESTION OF HONOR 
 
 tone, apparently partly to himself, partly to the man 
 who stood at his shoulder, a red-faced farmer with 
 a hundred shares of Akme at stake. " Now'd be 
 the time," he muttered, " now'd be the time to jump 
 right in; jump right in and buy four or five thou- 
 sand shares; a man could make a fortune, and get 
 out for good; it's the chance of a man's life; to 
 jump right in and buy four or five thousand share:;." 
 
 The countryman gazed at him in silence, sizing 
 him up at first curiously, and then with a certain 
 amused and not unkindly contempt. " Four or 
 five thousand!" he said, at last. "That ain't 
 enough. Buy ten thousand while you're at it. 
 You'll get twice as rich then," but the nervous man 
 seemed to take no offense, and indeed, not even to 
 notice the remark. " Now's the time," he rambled 
 on, and it was clear that it was to himself alone 
 that his mumblings were addressed, " to jump right 
 in ; that's the thing to do." 
 
 To Carleton, all at once it seemed that the group 
 around the ticker was a gathering merely of the 
 wrecks of men of idle fools of greater or less 
 degree. All of them he pitied, except the big, 
 
 97
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 coarse man with the toothpick, for whom he felt 
 a huge dislike; and most of all his pity went out to 
 the gentle man with the puzzled eyes; something 
 unfair there seemed to be in such a one being de- 
 coyed into the market game something repel- 
 lant, as if one had lied, deliberately and maliciously, 
 to a child. Pity or anger old or young was 
 there in all the group, he reflected with sudden dis- 
 taste, one real man? And then, instant and un- 
 expected, a lightning flame of keenest irony seemed 
 to sear its way into his very soul ; suppose Farring- 
 ton had withheld the check? Was there, in all the 
 group, himself included, one real man 
 
 The bell rang. The ticker whirred. For a 
 moment the dozen heads were grouped closely to- 
 gether over the tape, and then the first quotation, 
 five hundred Fuel at fifty-seven, gave warning of 
 the truth; and the second and third verified it be- 
 yond all doubt or questioning. No further need of 
 argument ; no further agony ; the suspense was over. 
 So weak was the opening as to be almost incredible, 
 so weak that it took a moment or two to adjust 
 oneself to the shock. Akme Mining had closed the 
 
 98
 
 A QUESTION OF HONOR 
 
 night before at ten. Carleton, figuring on the low- 
 est, had imagined that it might open at eight and a 
 half, or even eight. Two thousand shares came 
 over the tape at six and a quarter. Everything 
 else was in like ratio ; everything else kept the same 
 proportion or lack of it. For perhaps ten sec- 
 onds there was silence absolute, and then the reac- 
 tion came. The young man with the rumpled hair 
 turned sharply away, his hands thrust deep into his 
 trousers' pockets, his lips curiously twisted and con- 
 torted, the tip of his tongue showing between his 
 teeth. He gazed up at the blank wall, nodding un- 
 smilingly to himself. " I thought so," he observed, 
 quietly, " in the neck." 
 
 The man with the mumbling mouth started again 
 to speak. " Now," he muttered, " now would be 
 the time; to jump right in " and then, as if just 
 for a moment he caught a glimpse of himself and 
 the figure he made, old and futile, worn out and 
 wan, he stopped abruptly, rubbing his eyes, and for 
 a time spoke no more, only standing there motion- 
 less, with the force of a habit too strong to be 
 broken, glancing down unseeingly at the rows of lit- 
 
 99
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 tie black letters and figures that issued steadily from 
 the ticker, only to pass, unregarded and unmeaning, 
 beneath the vacancy of his gaze. 
 
 Carleton had stood staring grimly with the rest. 
 In a moment he felt a hand laid upon his arm, and 
 turned to meet the wistful glance of the little gray 
 man, " I beg your pardon," he asked timidly, 
 " but can you tell me at what price Kentucky Coal 
 is selling? I dislike to trouble you, but I am en- 
 tirely unfamiliar with the abbreviations used." 
 
 Carleton nodded with the feeling that he might as 
 well deal the little man a blow squarely between the 
 yes. " Forty-eight," he said shortly. 
 
 The little man turned very pale. " Forty-eight," 
 he repeated mechanically, " can it be so ? Forty- 
 eight ! " He shook his head slowly from side to 
 side, then glanced at Carleton with a smile infinitely 
 gentle and pathetic. " And to earn it," he mur- 
 mured, " took me twenty years ; " and then again, 
 after a pause, " twenty years ; and I'm afraid I'm 
 pretty old to begin again now." 
 
 Carleton's heart smote him. Gladly enough 
 would he have sought to aid, if a half of his own 
 
 100
 
 A QUESTION OF HONOR 
 
 depleted fortune had remained to him. He stood 
 for a moment as if in a dream. The whole scene 
 the familiar office, the stock-board, the ticker, the 
 disheartened, discouraged group of unsuccessful 
 gamblers it was all real enough, and yet at the 
 same time about it all there clung an air somehow 
 theatric, melodramatic, hard of realization. Then, 
 from the doorway, Turner called him sharply, and 
 he hastened into the private office. Outwardly, the 
 broker still had a pretty good grip on himself, but 
 in his tone his rising excitement was easily enough 
 discerned. " Look, Jack," he said quickly, " things 
 are bad; there's all sorts of talk coming over our 
 private wire. Hell's broke loose ; that's the amount 
 of it. I want you to get me ten thousand on 
 your account as quick as the Lord'll let you; 
 get fifteen, if you can. It's better for us both that 
 way. Saves worrying any more than anybody 
 can help. And Jack," he added, " I'm not supposed 
 to know this, neither are you. But they're letting 
 go a raft of your father's stuff over at Brown's. I 
 don't know what the devil it means, but I call it a 
 mighty bad sign." 
 
 101
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 Carleton nodded, and without wasting time, left 
 the room. The ten minutes' walk between Turner's 
 office and the Jefferson Building he covered in half 
 that time, and striding hastily down the corridor, 
 had almost reached Farrington's door when a tall, 
 red-faced young man, emerging with equal speed, 
 pulled up short to avoid the threatened collision, and 
 stood back for Carleton to enter. Glancing at him, 
 Jack recognized a casual acquaintance, and nodded 
 to him as he passed. " How are you, Cummings? " 
 he said, and the other, looking at him a little cur- 
 iously, returned his salutation, and then passed 
 quickly on. 
 
 Farrington was seated at his desk, and Jack at 
 once, and without ceremony, entered. Farrington, 
 glancing up, acknowledged his greeting, with a curt 
 nod; then looked at him with questioning gaze. 
 "Well?" he said. 
 
 " Well," Jack echoed, a trifle deprecatingly, " you 
 can guess what I've come for, I suppose. You saw 
 the opening. I want ten thousand more fifteen, 
 if I can have it but ten will do." 
 
 Farrington looked him straight in the eye. 
 1 02
 
 A QUESTION OF HONOR 
 
 " Ten will do," he echoed ; then, dryly, " I should 
 think it would." He paused for the veriest instant, 
 then added, with the utmost directness, " It's no go, 
 Mr. Carleton. I'm caught myself. I can't let you 
 have a cent." 
 
 At the words the blood seemed suddenly to leave 
 Jack Carleton's heart. Something tightened in his 
 throat, and a faint mist seemed to gather between 
 Farrington's face and his own. Then, as he came 
 to himself, " Can't let me have it ! " he cried sharply. 
 " Why, you told me last night you'd see me through, 
 you won't go back on your word now. The 
 money's promised. It's too late." 
 
 Farrington's face was expressionless. " You 
 don't realize," he said, " what a time this is. It's 
 one day out of a million the worst there's ever 
 been. If I could have foreseen " 
 
 The telephone on his desk rang sharply, and he 
 turned to answer it. Jack Carleton sat as if 
 stunned. This man had lied to him; had given 
 him his word, and now, with the market hopelessly 
 lower, retracted it; had thrown him a rope, and, 
 as he hung helpless in mid air, was leaning coolly 
 
 103
 
 forward to cut it, and let him perish. And he had 
 promised Turner his word of honor. He felt 
 physically faint and sick. Farrington hung up the 
 receiver, and then, as Jack started to speak, an 
 interruption occurred. Suddenly the door opened, 
 and Cummings appeared in the entrance. He 
 seemed greatly hurried and excited, as if he had 
 been running hard. " All ready, Hal," he cried, 
 " he'll ring you any minute now. And when he 
 does, buy like hell! For the personal, of course! 
 He says " 
 
 Quickly Farrington cut in on him. " Shut up ! " 
 he cried, so sharply that Jack could not but note 
 his tone, " Can't you see I'm busy ? Wait outside, 
 till I'm through," and Cummings, his red face many 
 shades redder than before, at once hastily withdrew. 
 
 Immediately Carleton leaned forward. " Look 
 here," he cried desperately, " this isn't right. 
 You told rne you'd see me through. Those were 
 your very words. You can't go back on them now. 
 If you do, you've got me ruined worse than 
 ruined. It isn't only the money; I've pledged my 
 word; pledged myself to make good. I've got to 
 
 104
 
 A QUESTION OF HONOR 
 
 have it, Farrington; that's all; I've got to; can't 
 you understand ? " 
 
 Farrington frowned. " You can't have it," he 
 answered sharply, " and don't take that tone to me, 
 either, Mr. Carleton. Haven't I given you twenty 
 thousand already? You must have misunderstood 
 me last night. I said I'd see you through if I could, 
 and now I find I can't. That's all. I tell you I 
 can't; and I won't stop to split hairs about it, 
 either. I've got too much at stake. You'd better 
 not wait, Mr. Carleton. There's no use in it. 
 There's nothing for you here." 
 
 Carleton's eyes blazed. Just for an instant 
 things swam before him; for an instant he half 
 crouched, like an animal about to spring. In the 
 office, absolute stillness reigned, save for the tall 
 clock in the corner ticking off the seconds five 
 ten fifteen and then, all at once, his tightly 
 closed hands unclenched, his lips relaxed; on the 
 instant he stood erect, and without speaking, turned 
 quickly on his heel, and left the room. 
 
 Grim and white of face, he burst five minutes 
 later into Turner's private office, with a bearing so 
 
 105
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 changed that Turner could not help but notice it, 
 and read the trouble there. " Something wrong? " 
 he asked sharply, and Carleton nodded, with a 
 strange feeling as if he were acting a part in some 
 sinister dream. " I couldn't get it," he said. 
 
 Turner gazed at him, frowning. " Nonsense," 
 he cried, and Carleton could have laughed hyster- 
 ically to hear his own words of ten minutes before 
 coming back to him : " You've got to get it. You 
 told me you were all right, Jack. You can't do 
 this now. Last night was the time to settle or sell. 
 You can't turn around now. It's too late." 
 
 Carleton's face was haggard, his mouth dry. He 
 shook his head stubbornly. " I can't get it," he 
 said again. 
 
 The broker's eyes grew suddenly hard. " Of 
 course you can," he cried, " you said you could ; 
 you know you can get it, Jack ; go ahead ! " 
 
 But Carleton only shook his head once more. 
 " It's no use," he answered wearily, " I can't get it, 
 I say. I wouldn't lie to you." 
 
 It was an unfortunate phrase. The broker 
 sneered. " Oh, no," he cried, " of course not. 
 
 106
 
 A QUESTION OF HONOR 
 
 You wouldn't lie to me. How about this morn- 
 ing?" And then, struck suddenly by the expres- 
 sion on Carleton's face, and perhaps a little ashamed 
 of his own loss of self-control, he hastened to add, 
 in a tone kindlier by far, " Come, come, Jack, this 
 isn't like you. There's something queer here. 
 You told me you had friends who'd see you through. 
 You told me that not three hours ago. And if you 
 lied to me, it was a dirty thing to do, and a foolish 
 thing, as well. Because now I've got to sell you 
 out ; there's no other way ; and it leaves you ruined, 
 and costs me money, besides. But I won't preach. 
 Thank God, that's one thing I've never done yet. 
 You've been a good customer here, and a good 
 friend of mine, too. So give it to me straight, 
 Jack. If you lied to me, tell me so. It's bad 
 enough for you; I won't make it any worse. I'll 
 keep my head shut, and you can pay me back as 
 you're able. But now look here " and his tone 
 hardened again "if it isn't that; if it's somebody 
 else that's lied to you, and fooled us both, why that's 
 a different story altogether. There's nothing to 
 stop us then, and by God, we won't let it stop us, 
 
 107
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 either. .We'll tell the story all over this town, till 
 we make somebody good and sorry for what he's 
 done. Give it to me straight, Jack. How did it 
 happen? Is this whole business up to somebody 
 else, or is it up-to you? Was it the truth you told 
 me, or was it a lie ? " 
 
 For a moment Carleton stood silent. Through 
 his tired brain flashed evil thoughts suspicion 
 conjecture the possibility of a just revenge. 
 And yet it was all so confused so uncertain. 
 Blame there was somewhere but where? What 
 could he really do? And then, curiously enough, 
 once more he seemed to see before his eyes the dark 
 face of Henry Carleton; once again he seemed to 
 hear him say, " The Carletons must stand together, 
 Jack. We mustn't bring dishonor on the name." 
 And in that sudden instant Jack Carleton ceased all 
 at once to be a boy, and became a man. Low and 
 hesitating came the words, the words that in the 
 broker's eyes branded him for ever as a coward, 
 beaten and disgraced, and yet his gaze, fixed on 
 Turner's face, never faltered. "Jim," he said, 
 " I'm sorry. It's up to me. I told you a lie." 
 
 108
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 'DEATH COPIES 
 
 "Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail 
 Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt, 
 Dispraise, or blame, nothing but well and fair, 
 And what may quiet us in a death so noble." 
 
 Milton. 
 
 THROUGH the gathering darkness of the 
 short, chilly December day the carriage swung 
 up the driveway of The Birches, and in front of 
 the porch came to a sudden halt. Doctor Morrison, 
 hastily alighting, ran quickly up the piazza steps 
 to find Henry Carleton, worried and anxious, al- 
 ready awaiting him at the open door. 
 
 " I'm glad you've come, Doctor," he said, his re- 
 lief plainly enough showing in his tone, " I've been 
 reproaching myself for not letting you know before. 
 Step into the parlor for a moment, though, and 
 warm yourself before you go up. You must be 
 cold." 
 
 109
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 Pulling off his gloves, and laying aside his over- 
 coat and bag, Doctor Morrison followed Carleton 
 into the room, rubbing his hands and holding them 
 out to the warmth of the open blaze. Then he 
 turned. " And how is he now? " he asked. " Any 
 change for the worse ? " 
 
 " No, I think not," Carleton answered, " he ap- 
 pears to be comfortable enough, and says he has no 
 pain. Yet there seems something curious about it, 
 too. It was almost a week ago, I suppose, that he 
 first began to complain. There was nothing that 
 you could fix on definitely, though. Only that he 
 didn't seem to be quite himself not as bright as 
 usual, or so interested in things and wanted to 
 sleep a great deal, even in the daytime; something, 
 as you know, most unusual for him. I thought 
 then of sending for you, and then I felt that that 
 might alarm him, and to tell the truth, I expected 
 every day to see him begin to pick up again; he's 
 had times like this before. And so things went 
 along until to-day. But this morning, as I tele- 
 phoned you, he didn't get up at all complained 
 of feeling very weak and faint so of course I 
 
 no
 
 DEATH COMES 
 
 rang you up at once. I only hope Fve made no 
 mistake in waiting so long." 
 
 Doctor Morrison shook his head. " Oh, no, I 
 don't think so for a moment," he answered, " I 
 doubt if it's anything serious at all. All men, as 
 they get on in years, are apt to get queer notions 
 at times, especially about their health. I'll go right 
 up and see him now, but I don't anticipate that we'll 
 find there's the slightest cause for alarm." 
 
 For half an hour Henry Carleton sat alone in the 
 firelight, in spite of all the doctor had said still anx- 
 ious and disturbed. Then he rose quickly as he 
 heard footsteps descending the stairs, and stood 
 waiting, expectant and apprehensive. As the doc- 
 tor entered the room, it was easy to see from 
 the expression on his face that his news was 
 certainly none of the best. Abruptly Henry Carle- 
 ton stepped forward. " Is it serious ? " he asked. 
 
 The doctor did not keep him in suspense. He 
 nodded gravely. " Yes," he answered, " I suppose 
 I should tell you so at once. It is," and then, see- 
 ing the unspoken question in the other's eyes, he 
 added quickly, " No, I don't mean anything im- 
 
 iii
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 mediate, necessarily; but he's failed terribly since I 
 saw him last I suppose it's been all of six months 
 now, at least, since I came out before; and probably 
 to you, living with him and seeing him every day, 
 the change has been so gradual that you haven't 
 noticed it, but it's been going on steadily just the 
 same, all the time. He's certainly failed alarm- 
 ingly." 
 
 Slowly Henry Carleton nodded. " I see," he 
 said half -mechanically, then added, " Is it anything 
 particular, Doctor, or just a general breaking up? " 
 
 "Just that," the doctor answered. "Just old 
 age. It's the same story with all of us, after all. 
 The machine is built to run about so long. Some- 
 times it wears out gradually; sometimes, as in Mr. 
 Carleton's case, even at the allotted age, it seems al- 
 most as good as new ; and those are the cases, where, 
 when anything does go wrong, it's apt to go wrong 
 very suddenly indeed, so that to every one the shock 
 is proportionately greater, and just so much harder 
 to bear." 
 
 Again Henry Carleton nodded. " Nothing that 
 one can do, I suppose ? " he asked, and the doctor 
 
 112
 
 DEATH COMES 
 
 shook his head. " No," he answered, " practically 
 nothing; it's really his own fight. I'll leave some 
 directions about medicine and diet, of course, and 
 I rather think, on the whole, though it's probably a 
 needless precaution, that I'll stay here with you for 
 the night. You might fix me up a sofa in his 
 room, if you don't mind; I think perhaps I should 
 feel better satisfied to stay until morning, anyway. 
 His heart isn't quite what I'd like it to be." 
 
 By nine o'clock Edward Carleton seemed to be in 
 better spirits, and to be resting more comfortably, 
 and neither Henry Carleton, nor, for that matter, 
 Doctor Morrison himself, retired with any thought 
 of an immediate turn for the worse. Henry Carle- 
 ton, indeed, resigned himself to sleep with all the 
 comfort that comes from a conscience serenely at 
 peace with every one, and a knowledge that one's 
 worldly affairs deprecated but not despised 
 are going magnificently to one's advantage. 
 Calmly enough he balanced his spiritual accounts 
 with his Creator and his fellow-men, and found that 
 with both his credit was good. Placidly he passed 
 in review on matters more material, and there 
 
 "3
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 found, if such a thing could be, his credit better 
 still; and then, as a good man should, dropped off 
 to sleep with no disturbing or vexing thoughts to 
 mar his rest. 
 
 Yet after all, the night was not destined to be a 
 peaceful one, for somewhere in the long, silent 
 spaces that lie between midnight and the dawn, the 
 bell connecting Edward Carleton's room with his 
 rang once, twice, thrice ; insistent and shrill, piercing 
 his dreams with a sudden foreboding of evil. In a 
 moment he was up and across the hall, to find, in 
 the dim light, the doctor, half-dressed, supporting 
 the old man's figure, swaying as he strove to prop 
 him against the pillows. Sharply the doctor spoke. 
 " On the mantel," he cried, " my case. Quick, 
 please. No, come here. I'll get it myself. Keep 
 his head up there that way so. Just a 
 minute, now ; just a minute " 
 
 It was but the fraction of a minute, at the most, 
 until he returned, but in the interval the old man's 
 eyes had opened and had gazed at IJenry Carleton 
 with an expression of recognition. Instantly, too, 
 he strove to speak, but in vain, and then, just as the 
 
 114
 
 DEATH COMES 
 
 doctor reached his side, his eyes closed, and his head 
 dropped back among the pillows. Edward Carle- 
 ton was dead. 
 
 It was seven o'clock the next morning when Doc- 
 tor Morrison, tired and pale with the strain of his 
 long, sleepless night, entered his office, to meet 
 Helmar just coming down the stairs. " Old Mr, 
 Carleton's gone, Franz," he said abruptly, " heart 
 failure. He died early this morning." 
 
 Helmar glanced up quickly. " I'm very sorry in- 
 deed," he said, " but it's not a surprise. I remem- 
 ber when I saw him I didn't give him over six 
 months,, or a year, at the most. His heart action 
 was none too good even then, and there were other 
 things." 
 
 Doctor Morrison nodded, then looked at him with 
 a rather curious expression. " Franz," he said, 
 " you know your friend Jack Carleton ? " 
 
 Helmar's eyes met his frankly. " I was just 
 thinking of him," he said, " I'm afraid it will be a 
 terrible shock. I think he scarcely realized that his 
 father was failing at all. Poor old Mr. Carleton t 
 
 "5
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 And what a difference it all makes. To think that 
 Jack will come into his fortune now." 
 
 Again Doctor Morrison eyed him curiously. 
 " Come into his fortune," he repeated, and again 
 Helmar looked up quickly, struck by his tone. 
 
 " Why, yes," he answered, " why not ? I always 
 understood that Jack would have the estate on his 
 father's death. There's been no change, has there ? 
 Jack hasn't been cut off in any way ? " 
 
 Doctor Morrison shook his head. " No," he 
 answered, " nothing like that, exactly ; but suppose 
 I have nothing, and give you all I have ; that doesn't 
 do you such a tremendous lot of good." 
 
 Helmar's expression sufficiently showed his as- 
 tonishment. " You don't mean it ! " he cried. 
 " Why, that can't be so ! I always understood from 
 every one that Edward Carleton was a very rich man. 
 Why, just look at his place, for one thing; it can't 
 be so." 
 
 Doctor Morrison shrugged his shoulders. " It's 
 the same old story," he said, " you know yourself 
 how often it happens, and how surprised people 
 are on a man's death to find how comparatively 
 
 116
 
 DEATH COMES 
 
 little he has. Sometimes, of course, you'll find it 
 just reversed, and the man that's rated at fifty 
 thousand dies worth half a million. But that's the 
 exception, these days, and the other's the rule. For 
 one man that scrapes and saves, there are a dozen 
 who live on a big scale, spend their income to the 
 last cent, and maybe draw on the principal, too. 
 And Edward Carleton spent money very freely, I 
 suppose." 
 
 Helmar looked entirely unconvinced. " Well, 
 suppose he did," he answered, " admit that he did, 
 even; for he did give a lot to charity and things 
 like that; I know that for a fact. But even then 
 think of the different enterprises he was in in 
 his day, and practically all big, successful ones. 
 Oh, it can't be that he left nothing; it's an im- 
 possibility." 
 
 Doctor Morrison shook his head. " No, sir, it's 
 true," he replied, "I'm not speculating about it;. 
 I know it positively, because I got it from Henry 
 Carleton's own lips. He surely ought to know, if 
 any one does, and he'd hardly care to publish the 
 fact if it wasn't really so. He's a most remarkable 
 
 117
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 man, Helmar. I've always admired him, but I 
 don't think I ever really quite appreciated him 
 before. Sometimes I seemed to find him a little 
 self-centered, a little too sure of himself, if you 
 know what I mean. But I know better now, for 
 what he's done in his brother's case is really as 
 fine a thing as you ever heard. It seems that the 
 old gentleman had always managed his own affairs, 
 but about a year ago he came to Henry and asked 
 him to take charge of everything for him. I 
 suppose he felt that he was getting a little out of 
 touch with things, perhaps; anyway, whether he 
 suspected it or not, the sequel proved that he'd 
 managed to put matters off a little too long. He 
 had some very unfortunate investments, and he'd 
 looked out for lots of other people ahead of him- 
 self, and the long and short of it was that when 
 the panic blew along, it simply wiped Edward Carle- 
 ton off the map." 
 
 Helmar nodded grudgingly. " Well, on those 
 facts, I can understand it, then," he replied. " But 
 I always thought he was too conservative a man to 
 
 118
 
 DEATH COMES 
 
 get caught in anything like that. He had plenty of 
 company, though." 
 
 " No doubt of that," Doctor Morrison assented, 
 " and then what do you suppose Henry Carleton 
 did? Straightened out what was left of the wreck 
 as well as he could, told the old gentleman that 
 everything w r as all right, and has kept the estate 
 going ever since, letting him have whatever he 
 wanted, right out of his own pocket, and without 
 a word to any one that things were any different 
 from what they always had been. He's even kept 
 on paying Jack the allowance his father gave him, 
 and that, too, after he and Jack had had another 
 row, more serious than any that had gone before. 
 And he'd have kept on like that, he told me, if the 
 old gentleman had lived ten years instead of one. 
 If that isn't doing one's duty, in the best sense of 
 the word, I'd like to have you tell me what is." 
 
 For a moment, Helmar did not reply. To all that 
 Doctor Morrison had said he had listened with the 
 closest attention. " He told you all this himself, 
 you say? " he queried at length. 
 
 119
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 At once the doctor felt the unspoken criticism in 
 his tone. "And why not?" he retorted. "This 
 has been a time of great strain for him, and \ve 
 were together there for the rest of the night. At 
 a time like that a man's tongue is loosened perhaps 
 a little more than usual." 
 
 Helmar made no answer, either of denial or 
 assent. Then, after a little while, " Does Jack 
 know ? " he asked. 
 
 " Not yet," the doctor answered. " There 
 seemed nothing to be gained by telephoning. I told 
 Henry Carleton I'd go up at once myself." 
 
 Helmar reached for his hat. "If you don't 
 mind," he said, " let me go instead," and Doctor 
 Morrison, spent and weary, readily enough nodded 
 assent. 
 
 Carleton, as Helmar entered the door of his 
 room at the Mayflower, turned with some surprise 
 to greet his friend. " Why, hello, Franz," he 
 cried. " What the devil brings you here? " Then 
 noticing the look on Helmar's face, he added 
 quickly, and in a very different tone, " What is it ? 
 Anything wrong?" 
 
 1 20
 
 Helmar nodded. Between man and man, he was- 
 no believer in striving to break bad news gently. 
 " It's your father, Jack," he said. " He died this 
 morning. It was very sudden. Doctor Morrison 
 was there. It was his heart. There was nothing 
 that could be done. And he didn't suffer, Jack; 
 and that means a great deal." 
 
 He stopped, making no empty protestations of 
 sympathy. Carleton, turning on his heel, stepped 
 quickly to the window, and stood, with his back to 
 Helmar, gazing blankly out into the street. Pres- 
 ently he turned again; his eyes were moist; and 
 his voice, when he spoke, was pitched low. " The 
 poor old Governor," he said. " He was awfully 
 good to me. I never thought I wish now I 
 wish somehow I'd been different with him." 
 
 With the vast freemasonry of experience Hel- 
 mar divined his thoughts. " I know, Jack," he 
 said, " I know how I felt when my father died. 
 I've known since, a hundred times, what sons and 
 daughters might be to their parents, but somehow 
 we're not. It's just the fact of being young, I 
 suppose. We don't understand ; we don't appre- 
 
 121
 
 ciate until it's too late; and then we never can 
 repay; only remember, I suppose, when we have 
 children of our own, that we've got to make allow- 
 ances, too " 
 
 He broke off abruptly, and for a moment there 
 was silence. Then, with evident constraint, he 
 spoke again. " Doctor Morrison was coming up 
 here himself, Jack," he said, " but I asked him to 
 let me come instead. There was something I 
 wanted to tell you especially about the estate. 
 Henry has told Doctor Morrison that in the panic 
 your father lost about everything he had, so that 
 practically there's nothing left. I wanted to tell 
 you first " 
 
 Carleton nodded, but the expression on his face 
 showed no new emotion. " Thank you, Franz," 
 he said, " I understand, and I appreciate ; you've 
 always been a good friend to me. But I don't care 
 about the money; it isn't that; I only wish " 
 
 In spite of himself his voice faltered and broke, 
 and he again turned hastily away, while Helmar 
 waited in silence, scarce knowing what to do or 
 say. At length Carleton turned to him once more, 
 
 122
 
 DEATH COMES 
 
 speaking as one speaks only to a tried friend, his 
 voice steady enough now, yet hardly sounding like 
 his own. " Memory's a queer thing, Franz," he 
 said. "Of all that I remember about my father, 
 what do you suppose comes back to me now ? 
 Something that happened almost twenty years 
 ago, when we used to spend our summers 
 down at the shore. A little trivial thing, too, 
 I suppose any one would say. I was just a 
 youngster then nine or ten, maybe and we had 
 two little sail-boats that were the apple of my eye. 
 Poor enough craft I guess they were, looking back 
 at them now, but no two cup defenders to-day 
 could look to me as those two boats did then. 
 
 " I wasn't considered big enough to go out in 
 them alone, but one Saturday afternoon my father 
 promised me that if Henry, when he came down 
 from town, would take one boat, I could take the 
 other, and we could have a race. As long as I 
 live, I'll never forget that morning. A thousand 
 times I looked out to where the two boats lay 
 moored; crazy with excitement; planning every- 
 thing; the start, the course; looking at the wind; 
 
 123
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 right on edge and somehow it never even oc- 
 curred to me that Henry wouldn't want to go. I 
 suppose I honestly couldn't imagine that any man, 
 woman or child could possibly refuse a chance to 
 sail a boat race. 
 
 " Well, Henry arrived, and you can imagine what 
 Henry did. He hated me even then; I believe he'd 
 always hated me, though of course I didn't realize 
 it. Poor little rascal that I was, I'd never learned 
 to think about hating any one. He heard me out 
 I can even remember how I grabbed hold of him 
 as he was getting out of the station wagon, and 
 how he shook me off, too and then he looked at 
 me with a queer, kind of a smile that wasn't really 
 a smile I can imagine now just what fun it must 
 have been for him and said he was afraid there 
 wasn't wind enough to go sailing. That was just 
 to tantalize me to see me argue and run out on 
 the piazza and point to the ripples and the big 
 American flag on the Island waving in the breeze 
 and then he had to turn away, and pretend to 
 yawn, and say he didn't believe he cared to go, that 
 anyway he was going over to the Country Club to 
 
 124
 
 DEATH COMES 
 
 play tennis. And then he went into the house to 
 get ready, and left me out there on the piazza. 
 alone. 
 
 " I can laugh now, and shrug my shoulders at the 
 whole thing, but then why, it was black tragedy 
 for me. I guess I was a pretty solemn-looking 
 little chap, swallowing hard and trying not to cry, 
 when my father found me there half an hour later. 
 He'd been fishing all the morning, I remember, and 
 I guess he was good and tired he hadn't been 
 well that summer, anyway and he had a cigar 
 in his mouth, and had his hand on the long piazza, 
 chair, just going to pull it into the shade, and 
 settle down with a book and a paper for a nice, 
 quiet afternoon. I told him, I remember, and he 
 looked at his chair, and looked out on the water 
 the sun was strong, and pretty hot, and to tell the 
 truth, though there was a little light air close to> 
 shore, about a quarter of a mile out to sea it was 
 getting rather flat and then he looked again at 
 his chair, and then at me, and then he put down 
 his book and his paper, and drew me up to him with 
 one hand, and gave a smile that was a smile 
 
 125
 
 THE CARLETOX CASE 
 
 " * Come on, my old sailor,' he said ' and we'll 
 see if we can't have a little boat race of our own.' 
 Oh, how my heart jumped the poor old Gov- 
 ernor, I think my expression must pretty nearly 
 have paid him and then we toiled down over 
 the rocks, with me hanging to his hand, the way 
 a kid that really likes his father will; and out we 
 went in the skiff, with me doing the rowing, splash- 
 ing and jerking, and very proud, and then we got 
 up sail, and drifted around the little course for a 
 couple of hours I can remember how hot it was 
 and of course I won. I didn't dream then that 
 he let me, and perhaps, for him to hear me telling 
 my mother about it over and over again at the 
 supper table perhaps " 
 
 He stopped, unable to go on, and then, after a 
 little pause, he added half-wistfully, in a voice that 
 shook in spite of him, "It's queer, Helmar isn't 
 it? how a little thing like that can stand out in 
 your memory, and so many other things you utterly 
 forget. It's just the what is the word just 
 the kindness of it damn it all " and self-re- 
 straint at last giving way, he buried his face in his 
 
 126
 
 DEATH COMES 
 
 hands, and for the first time in many a long year, 
 cried like a child. 
 
 Helmar for a moment stood still in troubled 
 silence; then turned upon his heel, and softly left 
 the room. 
 
 127
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 A PARTING 
 
 " For of fortunes sharpe adversite, 
 The worst kind of infortune is this, 
 A man that hath been in prosperite, 
 And it remember when it passed is." 
 
 Chaucer. 
 
 MARJORY GRAHAM rose from her seat as 
 Carleton entered the room, her hand out- 
 stretched in friendly greeting. " I'm glad you 
 came out, Jack," she said, " it's seemed like a long 
 time." 
 
 Carleton, as he seated himself, unconsciously kept 
 his eyes fixed on the girl's face, thinking to him- 
 self that he had never seen her looking prettier, or 
 more charming. He gave a nod of assent. " It 
 has been a long time," he answered, " but you know 
 how much has happened. I should have come be- 
 fore, but I thought I'd wait until things were 
 settled first." 
 
 128
 
 A PARTING 
 
 The girl looked at him, with sympathy in her 
 glance. " I was so sorry, Jack," she said, " about 
 your father." 
 
 He nodded again. " I know you were, Mar- 
 jory," he answered, " you were always kind to him, 
 and he valued your friendship, I know. He used to 
 speak to me about you, many a time. And I never 
 dreamed he seemed so well it's so hard for 
 me to realize, even now, that we'll never see him 
 again." 
 
 There followed a moment's silence. And then 
 the girl spoke once more. " And I'm sorry, Jack, 
 about all the rest, too." 
 
 His answering glance was grateful enough, yet 
 somehow he appeared to wince a little at her words. 
 " You needn't be, Marjory," he said, " because I 
 don't deserve it. I've made a fool of myself. 
 Your father told you everything, I suppose." 
 
 " Yes, Jack, he told me," she answered, " I don't 
 think he liked doing it he hates talking about 
 other people's business but he sai'd you asked 
 him to." 
 
 " Yes, I wanted him to," Carleton assented. " I 
 129
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 wanted you to know all about it, before I came out. 
 I thought I'd make a clean breast of things. I've 
 paid my debts, thank Heaven, but I'm left prac- 
 tically without a cent; I'm no better than a beggar. 
 And I'm living in a lodging-house, down-town. 
 Quite a change, all right, from the Mayflower." 
 
 Her face clouded. " I won't bother you with 
 sympathy, Jack," she said, " if you don't want me 
 to; but I am awfully sorry, just the same; I've 
 thought of you so many times. And Jack," she 
 added, " I wish you'd promise me to think more 
 about yourself now. You've been through such a 
 lot, and really you don't look well at all. You're 
 thin, and tired-looking, and different somehow 
 every way." 
 
 Carleton nodded. What the inward change had 
 been, he knew better than any one else. And out- 
 wardly, indeed, he did appear more careworn, more 
 thoughtful, than he had ever done before. In his 
 whole manner there was a new poise, and a new 
 gravity as well. " Oh, I'm all right, thanks," he 
 answered, '* only when you get worried, and begin 
 not to sleep, it makes a difference, you know. 
 
 130
 
 A PARTING 
 
 Thank you, though, Marjory, for being sorry. I 
 appreciate it more than I can say. But I didn't 
 mean to bother you with all my troubles like this. 
 I came out to tell you something different altogether, 
 and I find it's awfully hard to begin." 
 
 Momentarily he paused. Intent on what he was 
 saying, he had sat looking straight before him, 
 never lifting his eyes to the girl's face. Had he 
 done so, he could scarcely have failed to note the 
 expression there, a look as if already she both 
 knew and dreaded what it was that he wished to 
 say, and had it been possible, would gladly have 
 checked the words before he could give them utter- 
 ance. But all absorbed in his desire to express him- 
 self as he wished, Carleton still sat gazing fixedly 
 into the firelight, and after a pause, went on. 
 
 " I wonder how I can make you understand. Did 
 you ever have something, Marjory, that you wanted 
 to do very much; something that you were always 
 on the point of doing, and yet somehow kept putting 
 off from day to day, until at last something else 
 happened that made it impossible ever to do it at 
 all, and left you just saying over and over to your-
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 self, 'Why didn't I? Why didn't I when I 
 could?'" 
 
 The girl gave a nod of assent. " Yes, Jack," she 
 answered, " I understand." 
 
 " Then you'll know what I mean," he continued, 
 " by what I'm going to tell you now. It's only this, 
 and I think you know what it is before I say it, 
 even. I love you, Marjory; I always have loved 
 you, even when you were only a little girl. That 
 was the trouble all along, I suppose. I always 
 thought of you as so young that I kept saying to my- 
 self that I oughtn't to bother you, that there would 
 be plenty of time when you were older. And then 
 when you were older I'd got started on a foolish 
 way of living. I don't really know how I began 
 just seemed to drift into it somehow. And I 
 didn't keep on because I enjoyed it for I didn't 
 it was just the habit of it that gripped me so 
 I couldn't seem to break away. And now that 
 I've come to my senses again, Marjory now that 
 I can come to you, feeling that I've a right to tell 
 you that I love you why now it's too late. I've 
 got to begin at the foot of the ladder; I can't ask 
 
 132
 
 A PARTING 
 
 you to marry me; but I want to know if you'll wait 
 let me show that I'm able to make good give 
 me another chance. That's all I ask, Marjory; all 
 that I've a right to ask." 
 
 Slowly and unwillingly, her gaze met his, 
 " Jack," she began, " you know the money would 
 make no difference; I'd never think of that, of 
 course. It isn't that 
 
 She hesitated, and stopped. Carleton's eyes 
 sought hers with the look of a man who feels the 
 whole world reel beneath him. 
 
 " Marjory," he cried, " do you mean you don't 
 care you don't love me ? " 
 
 There was a moment's silence. And then the 
 girl slowly shook her head. " No, Jack, I don't 
 mean that. Of course I care. I've always cared. 
 You must have known. Any time, from the day 
 you graduated from college, up to a year ago, if 
 you'd come to me and asked me to marry you, I'd 
 have been the happiest girl you could find any- 
 where " 
 
 For an instant she paused, and Carleton raised 
 his eyes to hers, as if both knowing and dreading 
 
 133
 
 THE CARLETOX CASE 
 
 \vhat her next words would be. " Well ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " And then, Jack," she went on, even more slowly, 
 as if the words cost her greater and greater effort, 
 " you began to change. And caring isn't enough, 
 Jack. For a girl really to love a man, she's got to 
 respect him and trust him. And you know how 
 you've lived, Jack, for this last year. First I only 
 heard things you know how girls gossip among 
 themselves and each one has a brother, or a 
 cousin or a sweetheart, who tells her things; so 
 first I heard, and then, little by little, I could 
 see for myself. I tried to think just as much of 
 you as ever, Jack. I pretended to laugh at the 
 stories they told. And then there came one night 
 at a dance, when you weren't yourself at all 
 I hate to remember it even and I knew then 
 that things couldn't go on like that; that we'd 
 have to come to some kind of an understanding. 
 So I sent word by Franz Helmar, to ask you to 
 come out to see me that Friday night. I'd made 
 up my mind that we'd talk everything all over, 
 between ourselves about your drinking, and 
 
 134
 
 A PARTING 
 
 about that girl I'd heard all people were saying ; 
 you can't keep those things from being known. 
 And then, after I'd waited and waited for you 
 all that evening, and finally given you up 
 then to come across you, the way we did, by ac- 
 cident, out motoring with her with that common 
 girl I don't see how you could do it, Jack! I 
 don't see how men can do things like that, and 
 respect themselves; much less expect other people 
 to respect them. And you, Jack, of all people 
 that was a terrible night for me. If I hadn't 
 cared for you if I didn't care for you, Jack 
 I wouldn't have minded; I wouldn't mind now. 
 But for me to know that you'd been as devoted to 
 me as you had that every one talked about us as 
 if we were really engaged and then to know that 
 all the time you'd been oh, Jack, I had such 
 faith in you! I thought you were different from 
 other men. I don't see how you could." 
 
 Carleton had sat listening, his eyes fixed on the 
 ground, wincing under her words. Gradually, as 
 she spoke, a dull red flush had mounted to his 
 very temples, and when she ended he at once made 
 
 135
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 answer, speaking rapidly, as if the words were fairly 
 wrung, by force, from his lips. " Don't, Marjory ! " 
 Tie cried. " For God's sake, don't ! It's all true 
 enough. I've been selfish, thoughtless, brutal ; any- 
 thing you please. I don't know why I did it. Men 
 are queer things, that way, I guess. Because I 
 loved you just as much, Marjory, all the time. I 
 didn't know it then, but I do now. And it wasn't 
 so bad, Marjory. It was foolishness, but that was 
 all. The girl's none the worse for me. Don't 
 condemn me for all our lives, because I've failed 
 once. Let me make my fight. Let me show that 
 I can be the kind of a man a girl can respect. And 
 then it will be all right again. You'll marry me 
 then, Marjory ; say that you will." 
 
 Perhaps the straightforward vehemence of his 
 speech helped him as nothing else could have done. 
 The girl hesitated a moment before she answered; 
 and finally, half -doubt fully, shook her head. " Ah, 
 Jack," she said, "if you w r ould. Then things 
 would be all right again. But would you, Jack? 
 Can you change your way of living, as you think 
 you can? Suppose you did, for a time. Suppose 
 
 136
 
 A PARTING 
 
 we should marry, even. And then if anything 
 should happen. I'm different from most women, 
 perhaps. But my husband has to be mine, the 
 whole of him. And if you did things like this 
 again, it would kill me, Jack. I couldn't bear 
 the misery, and the shame. I want to trust you, 
 Jack; I want to, more than anything in the world. 
 But can I ? Would you do as you say ? " 
 
 Impulsively he rose, and walked over to the fire- 
 place, leaning a hand on the mantel, and looking 
 down into her face. " I can't blame you, Mar- 
 jory," he cried, " if I would. And I won't waste 
 time in words. But let me tell you what I'll do. 
 I've two chances now. One here in town that 
 Henry's got for me it's steady and sure, and 
 pays fifteen hundred a year. And the other's to 
 go ranching it out West, with a fellow I used to 
 know in college. He always wanted me, and he'll 
 take me now. There's a chance there, too; a 
 chance to make money; a chance to get rich, even. 
 I've been hesitating I wanted to stay, to be near 
 you but I won't delay any longer. I'll go out 
 there and take my chance. It means three years, 
 
 137
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 anyway; maybe more. If I can come back then, 
 with some prospect ahead of me if I can come 
 back then, and tell you, on my word of honor, that 
 I've done nothing in all that time for which you 
 need to feel ashamed then things would be right 
 again, wouldn't they? You'd marry me, Marjory, 
 then." 
 
 Her face had clouded as he spoke. " Ah, Jack," 
 she said, " it seems so hard to have you go away like 
 that. I don't want you to; I'd rather have you 
 here. And yet I suppose it's best for both of 
 us. I know you're right, Jack; that you ought to 
 go, and make your fight. And I'll trust to what 
 you tell me; and I'll wait I'll wait three years, 
 or twice three years." 
 
 His face had brightened with her words. He 
 bent over her, and took her hand in his. " God 
 bless you, Marjory," he said. " I'll go, and I'll 
 fight as no man ever fought before." 
 
 For an instant longer he stood gazing down into t 
 her eyes; then turned abruptly. A moment later 
 the portieres had rustled behind him, and then were 
 still. 
 
 138
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 TEMPTATION 
 
 " Why comes temptation, but for man to meet 
 And master and make crouch beneath his foot, 
 And so be pedestaled in triumph?" 
 
 Browning. 
 
 SLOWLY and thoughtfully Carleton ascended 
 the stairs; reached his room; entered it; had 
 even begun, with the mechanical force of habit, to 
 fumble in his pockets for a match and then, 
 all at once, with a sudden shock of surprise, he 
 awoke from his abstraction. The lamp on the 
 center table was already lighted, though turned 
 low, and from the shadow beyond, a dark figure 
 rose, and came forward to meet him. 
 
 In an instant, he had reached out his hand; the 
 next moment, the lamp light flooded the room; and 
 then, as he recognized his visitor, there swept over 
 his face a medley of emotions amazement, dis- 
 
 139
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 pleasure, perhaps some other feeling as well. For 
 an instant he stood motionless; then, frowning, 
 again stepped forward, pitching his voice little 
 louder than a whisper. " What the devil does this 
 mean, Jeanne ? " he asked. 
 
 The girl's lips were smiling; her eyes dancing 
 with suppressed amusement. Plainly enough, she 
 vyas in nowise disconcerted at her greeting, but 
 instead met his glance with the expression of one 
 who feels herself mistress of the situation. She 
 too stepped forward, until only the width of the 
 table separated them; then spoke, in the same low 
 key, half, it seemed, in real precaution, half in 
 mocking mimicry of his own anxious tone. 
 " Aren't you glad to see me, Jack ? " she whis- 
 pered. " I thought you'd be so pleased." 
 
 Carleton's expression did not change, except that 
 his frown deepened, and his mouth grew stern. 
 "What are you thinking of?" he said again, and 
 in the same tone as before. "Coming here! At 
 this time of night! Are you crazy, Jeanne? " 
 
 Smiling still, the girl came closer, laying her 
 hand appealingly on his arm, and looking up into 
 
 140
 
 TEMPTATION 
 
 his face with the innocent gaze of a child unjustly 
 wronged. " Now, Jack " she began. 
 
 Carleton, with a quick intake of his breath, 
 stepped back, shaking off the slender hand. " Drop 
 it, Jeanne," he said sharply. " Here " he thrust 
 the arm-chair toward her, " sit down, and tell 'me 
 what all this means, and then, for God's sake, go 
 
 away 
 
 With an amused shrug of her shoulders, the girl 
 complied, seating herself leisurely and comfortably, 
 as if she were far from being in a hurry to de- 
 part, and glanced up at him with a look charming 
 and demure enough to have driven away the frown 
 which still lingered on his brow. And then, as 
 she made no move to speak, he broke the silence. 
 " How on earth," he asked, " did you get here? " 
 She smiled back at him, her eyes dancing with 
 mischief. " Bribery," she answered. " The maid 
 at the door said it was as much as her place was 
 worth. I told her it was a matter of great im- 
 portance I really did it rather well, I think 
 and then I told her that no one would ever know 
 and persuaded her. And here I am." 
 
 141
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 " So I perceive," he observed dryly, and then, 
 more gravely, " And now what is it, Jeanne ? Be 
 quick, please. It must be close to midnight. If 
 any one found you here " 
 
 The girl laughed, low and mockingly. " Why, 
 Jack," she said, " how awfully moral we've grown. 
 You never used to be so particular about appear- 
 ances. Don't you remember " 
 
 He held up a silencing hand. " I remember a 
 great many things, Jeanne. We had our good 
 times, and we enjoyed them, too. But they're all 
 gone by for me, my dear. If you dance, you've got 
 to pay the piper. That's the truest thing that ever 
 was said. And I'm paying him now. You heard 
 all about the smash, of course. And you know that 
 I'm a poor man. My sporting days are over, for 
 good and all." 
 
 The girl nodded. For the first time, the smile 
 had left her face, and her tone, when she spoke, 
 was as grave as his own. " I know all about it, 
 Jack," she said, " it isn't the money I care about. 
 I thought it was once but it wasn't; it was 
 you. And you haven't sent me word now for so 
 
 142
 
 TEMPTATION 
 
 long. And I wrote you, and you never answered. 
 And then I was lonesome, and so I came." 
 
 He looked back at her steadily. " I didn't put 
 things quite right, Jeanne," he said, " I didn't mean 
 that it was wholly because I didn't have money 
 any more. That is part of it, I guess, but there's 
 more to it than just that. I'm sorry for a lot of 
 foolish things I've done, and I mean to quit them." 
 
 She raised her eyebrows at the words, and a new 
 expression came over her face. " Oh," she said. 
 " I see. So going around with me was foolish, was 
 it? That's strange. You didn't seem to think so, 
 when you were doing it, Jack." 
 
 If she had expected to hear him withdraw his 
 words, she was disappointed. " You don't under- 
 stand me, Jeanne," he said, " there was no question 
 about my enjoying it. I didn't mean that. I en- 
 joyed it too much that was all. But that 
 doesn't alter the fact that it was foolishness for 
 both of us. It was all my fault. It was only be- 
 cause I got used to seeing you around the place, 
 out at The Birches, and you were so pretty, and 
 so nice, that I wasn't strong enough to resist temp- 
 
 H3
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 tation. And we had some great old times together. 
 Don't think I've turned preacher all at once, be- 
 cause I haven't. We had some bully times, and I 
 shall always remember them. But I was injuring 
 you, Jeanne, and I was injuring myself, too. We 
 were going ahead with something that could turn 
 out only one way we were playing the devil's pet 
 game. And I thank God we pulled up in time." 
 
 The girl stiffled a little yawn; then smiled up at 
 him more brightly than before, motioning, as she 
 did so, to the arm of the chair. " You have turned 
 preacher, Jack," she said. " Don't do it any more, 
 please; it's so stupid. And don't stand, either. 
 There's lots of room." 
 
 He shook his head. There came into her eyes a 
 gleam of something other than mirth, and as she 
 spoke, she raised her voice a trifle. " Sit down, 
 Jack," she said again. 
 
 Carleton threw an anxious glance over his shoul- 
 der, and then, unwillingly enough, drew up to the 
 table the only other chair in the room. Again the 
 gleam flashed, far back in her eyes, and once more 
 she tapped on the arm of the chair. " Sit here," 
 
 144
 
 'Jack," she murmured, "have I changed?'' Page 145
 
 she said imperiously, and heedful, not of the words, 
 but of the tone, he obeyed. 
 
 At once her slender hand had stolen into his. 
 " Look at me, Jack," she commanded, and re- 
 luctantly enough he gazed down into the face that 
 in the past had fascinated him beyond his strength. 
 As if in a silent trial of their wills, her eyes held 
 his, " Jack," she murmured, " have I changed ? " 
 
 Carleton's teeth came together sharply; un- 
 consciously the hand that held hers tightened so 
 that she gave a little cry of pain, before it again 
 relaxed. " No," he muttered hoarsely, " only 
 you're prettier than ever, Jeanne." 
 
 Her other hand crept upward until it rested on 
 his shoulder; still her eyes were fixed on his, and 
 still he did not look away. And then, " Ah, Jack," 
 she whispered, " you foolish boy ! What did you 
 think, anyway? That I thought you'd, marry me? 
 Of course I didn't. I wanted a good time too. 
 ' Only end one way/ Jack. Of course. That 
 was the way I wanted it to end. That's why I 
 came here to-night, Jack, dear " 
 
 At last he had wrenched his eyes free from her 
 145
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 gaze. "Don't Jeanne!" he cried. "Don't" 
 but she clung the closer to him. 
 
 "Jack," she said, as though not understanding, 
 " Jack, what's changed you? Don't you want me? " 
 and then, her whole tone altering in one instant's 
 flash, " There's some one else, then," she cried. 
 " You were never like this before. Isn't there, 
 Jack? Isn't there?" 
 
 Once more he met her glance. " Yes, Jeanne," 
 he said, very low, " there is." 
 
 On the instant, her eyes flamed; instinctively she 
 drew back, and Carleton, freed from her grasp, 
 started to his feet. She rose also, quivering from 
 head to foot. 
 
 "It's that Graham girl!" she cried. "That 
 doll! Don't do it, Jack ! Don't marry her ! She'd 
 never love you the way I would. Don't do it, Jack ! 
 We can have such a good time. I've got some 
 money; we can get more. We can go abroad to- 
 gether. You've made me love you, Jack ; you can't 
 cast me off now. It isn't fair. I'm not asking 
 much. You can have me Jack, the whole of me 
 as long as you want me and then, when you're 
 
 146
 
 TEMPTATION 
 
 tired of me, you can leave me, and go your way. 
 Jack, please " 
 
 She stood there, breathing quick and hard, and 
 gazing at him with such a look on her face that 
 half against his will, he stepped forward, and took 
 her hand in his. " Jeanne," he said, " God knows 
 I'm sorry. I never meant things to end like this ; I 
 never thought you really cared. But I can't do 
 what you say. It is Marjory Graham; I've asked 
 her to marry me, and I've promised her, this very 
 night, to live straight from now on. Don't think 
 it's easy for me, dear ; it isn't. Don't think I don't 
 appreciate everything. But we wouldn't be 
 happy, Jeanne either of us. It wouldn't be 
 right ; it wouldn't be square ; we'd both regret we 
 mustn't do it, Jeanne. I'm sorry, from the bottom 
 of my heart, if I've hurt you ; but I never meant it. 
 You must go your way, Jeanne; and I must go 
 mine." 
 
 Even as he spoke, his heart smote him. The girl 
 stood, her eyes cast down, her breast heaving 
 "My way," she muttered, half under her breath. 
 " My way ; oh, God ! " and then, slowly and uncer- 
 
 147
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 tainly, she lifted her eyes to his and Carleton saw 
 that they were filled with tears. For the first time 
 she seemed to realize her dismissal, and to accept it. 
 " Very well," she said wearily, " I'll go," and then, 
 after a pause, " kiss me, Jack." 
 
 Carleton bent and kissed her; then, almost 
 roughly, released her, and as she turned away, stood 
 silent, 'with averted face, not daring to trust h 'ni- 
 sei f to look. 
 
 The silence deepened. Then, very softly, the 
 door closed. He raised his eyes. He was alone 
 in the room. Like a man physically spent, he threw 
 himself down into the arm-chair, ' and buried his 
 face in his hands. 
 
 148
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THREE YEARS LATER 
 
 " Ay me, how many perils do enfold the righteous man ! " 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 ACROSS the rampart of his desk Henry Carle- 
 ton gazed regretfully at his visitor; then once 
 again shook his head. " I'm sorry, Van Socum," 
 he said, " I hate to refuse such a call, and I hate to 
 refuse you of all men. A year ago I should have 
 felt differently, but now as you know, we're in the 
 midst of hard times, and first and last, one has to 
 meet so many demands. I'm afraid I shall really 
 have to ask you to excuse me. But I'm sorry, 
 though; extremely sorry; I only wish I felt able to 
 respond. Perhaps some time a little later " 
 
 Slowly the Reverend William Van Socum nodded 
 his head. From his general appearance his 
 bland, plump, rosy face; his stout, well-fed little 
 
 140
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 body ; his ultra correct ministerial garb one 
 would scarcely have divined his really unusual tal- 
 ents. For the Reverend William Van Socum was 
 the man whose remarkable ability to assist his 
 church in a certain deprecated, but much needed 
 and excessively practical department of its activi- 
 ties, had gained for him among his clerical associ- 
 ates the title, bestowed in ungrudging admiration, 
 of " The Painless Separator." 
 
 And now, while the gentle inclination of his head 
 was meant to convey the most sympathetic under- 
 standing, at the same time he made no move to rise, 
 but on the contrary kept his seat, and unflinchingly 
 returned Henry Carleton's gaze. For Van 
 Socum's pride was touched. He had made up his 
 mind, before entering the great man's office, that 
 its doors should not again be closed behind him 
 until in the neat little space opposite Henry Carle- 
 ton's name he had seen inserted the pleasantly round 
 sum of five hundred dollars. And now to all ap- 
 pearances he had met a foeman worthy of his steel 
 of his brass, possibly some envious detractor 
 might have preferred to say a man every whit as
 
 THREE YEARS LATER 
 
 smooth and polished as himself, a man who was 
 both ready and able to defend his little garrison of 
 beleagured dollars with a skill of fence and a com- 
 pleteness of repulse which could not but arouse Van 
 Socum's somewhat unwilling admiration. Accus- 
 tomed to success as he had become, defeat seemed 
 now well-nigh assured. Whimsically he thought of 
 the ancient problem of the irresistible force and its 
 contact with the immovable body, and as an after- 
 thought he added grudgingly to himself, " This 
 man's wasted in business; he ought to be one of us." 
 
 But these, of course, were thoughts merely. 
 Outwardly, the reverend gentleman gave no sign 
 that he dreaded, or even expected, a refusal. His 
 little oily professional smile was as winning and as 
 confident as ever. Yet he realized that he was deal- 
 ing with a busy man, and prudently determined, 
 while the chance yet remained to him, to play his 
 last card without delay. 
 
 " I understand, my dear Mr. Carleton," he ex- 
 claimed, " I perfectly understand. For a man like 
 yourself, a man of your standing in the community, 
 none can realize better than I what a tax these con-
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 stant demands must be, on patience and on pocket- 
 book as well." He paused for just the veriest 
 instant, inwardly to smack his lips ; he loved a well- 
 turned phrase, above all if it had about it a flavor 
 of alliteration, and " On patience and on pocket- 
 book as well " struck him as distinctly good. Then, 
 with a swift return to business methods, 
 
 " But I did feel, Mr. Carleton, that this time you 
 would favor us. The project of the new altar 
 seems to have made a wide appeal to all those most 
 interested in the beautifying of our beloved church, 
 and example the example, let us say, of a man 
 of your type, Mr. Carleton does mean so much to 
 some of the weaker brethren. Not every one, per- 
 haps, realizes this, but I myself know it to be a mat- 
 ter of the greatest consequence, and it was this 
 same power of example that I had in mind when I 
 arranged to have the preliminary list made public 
 to-morrow in six of the leading dailies. And for 
 my part, I can see nothing out of the way in such a 
 proceeding. The press and the pulpit or rather, 
 let us say, the pulpit and the press why should 
 they not proceed together hand in hand, so that all 
 
 152
 
 THREE YEARS LATER 
 
 things, spiritual and secular, may at last work to- 
 gether for good. That, at least, is my conception 
 of it. And the papers have been very kind. Al- 
 most invariably, I think I may say. To a laborer 
 in the vineyard, to one who bears the burden and 
 heat of the day, it is gratifying I must confess 
 it very gratifying indeed." 
 
 He spoke but the truth, as Henry Carleton well 
 knew. The Reverend William Van Socum had the 
 reputation of being the greatest ecclesiastical ad- 
 vertiser in the city. Just how he did it, none but 
 himself seemed to know, yet stony-hearted editors 
 and impervious reporters were but as wax in his 
 hands. " The pulpit and the press " was not simply 
 another of his favorite catch-words; it meant some- 
 thing substantial as well. Hand in hand they 
 traveled, in very truth, and it was the bland and 
 smiling Van Socum who managed to unite them in 
 this touching amity. 
 
 " Yes," he said reminiscently, " six of the lead- 
 ing dailies. And good position in all of them, too. 
 It's a splendid thing for us. So far the Honorable 
 Samuel Rogers has made the largest individual 
 
 153
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 subscription two hundred and fifty dollars 
 and his name at the head of the list will of course 
 mean a great deal. We consider that he has acted 
 very handsomely. But " the smile again ap- 
 peared, like the sun from behind the clouds, depre- 
 cating, wistful, with just a hint of gentle reproach, 
 and oily enough to have turned an ocean into 
 calm " but above that of Mr. Rogers we had 
 hoped to have one other name, one other name still 
 more widely and if you will pardon me still 
 more favorably known than even that of Mr. Rogers 
 himself." 
 
 Henry Carleton looked, as he felt, a trifle uncom- 
 fortable. " I deplore," he said, a little stiffly, " any 
 publicity in such matters. The right hand, and the 
 left, Van Socum, you know." 
 
 Occasionally an expert boxer, for some reason of 
 his own, will leave himself unguarded, purposely to 
 invite a blow. With joy the Reverend William 
 Van Socum foresaw the beginning of the end. 
 " True ! true ! " he cried, " as far as the giver is 
 concerned. But for the effect on others, Mr. Carle- 
 
 154
 
 THREE YEARS LATER 
 
 ton. That is where you are in error. Let your 
 light so shine ! That is the injunction which covers 
 the case. The shining light, Mr. Carleton! The 
 shining light ! " 
 
 The blow sped home. Henry Carleton meekly 
 inclined his head, as it seemed, a willing sacrifice. 
 " I deplore publicity " he again began, but his 
 tone was feebler by far; and then he added, meta- 
 phorically throwing up the sponge, " in six papers, 
 did you say ? " 
 
 Van Socum bore his honors modestly. " Six," 
 he answered, again producing the subscription book 
 from his pocket, " six ; and excellent position in all. 
 And of course our own paper, The Flaming Torch, 
 which in itself has a circulation by no means con- 
 temptible. Let me see. Five hundred, Mr. Carle- 
 ton? A thousand, perhaps, would be almost too 
 large a sum." 
 
 Inwardly Henry Carleton was returning the com- 
 pliment the Reverend Doctor had just paid to him. 
 " This fellow," he thought, " is thrown away on the 
 church, I could use a man like him to excellent 
 
 155
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 advantage." " Yes," he answered, " five hundred, 
 I think. I shouldn't wish to be criticized on the 
 score of ostentation." 
 
 The victor drew out his pencil; then, almost in 
 the act of writing, paused, as if suddenly recalling 
 something to mind. 
 
 "By the way, Mr. Carleton," he asked, "did 
 some one tell me the other day that your nephew 
 had returned from the West ? " 
 
 Henry Carleton's face was expressionless. 
 " Yes," he answered, " he is back. He has been in 
 town several days." 
 
 Van Socum nodded amiably. " How very pleas- 
 ant ! " he said smoothly. " He is improved I 
 trust?" 
 
 A slight frown seemed to hover about the bank- 
 er's brow. He appeared to place a curb on his 
 speech. " Greatly, thank you," he answered briefly. 
 
 The clerical smile again burst into bloom. " So 
 glad; so very glad to hear it," he murmured; then 
 continued brightly, " but I felt sure that it would be 
 so. There was such a field for it. When he left 
 us, one might almost have dared to uproot the tares 
 
 156
 
 THREE YEARS LATER 
 
 without feeling that the wheat would be in danger. 
 So glad so very glad." 
 
 He paused a moment; then, as if tentatively feel- 
 ing his way toward a possible germ for a sermon, 
 he moralized, "Three years! How swiftly time 
 passes us by! What changes it brings to us all! 
 To you to me to your nephew " He 
 stopped abruptly, his ideas swinging suddenly into 
 another channel, " And speaking of the passage of 
 time, Mr. Carleton, what a change it has brought in 
 your daughter, Rose ! I remember her as a charm- 
 ing child, and behold, I met her the other afternoon 
 at a little tea why, Mr. Carleton, I assure you I 
 could scarcely believe my eyes. A young lady 
 grown-up, self-possessed, a half-dozen young men 
 around her. .Why, I was amazed. The passage of 
 time " 
 
 He half paused; perhaps, if the truth were told, 
 Henry Carleton half broke in upon him. " Yes," 
 the banker agreed, " it passes, as you say. And it's 
 valuable, Van Socum. We can't afford to waste it, 
 any of us." 
 
 The minister smiled forgivingly and bend- 
 157
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 ing over his book, he wrote yet did not at once 
 vanish. Of a man so comfortably portly, of a 
 plumpness so suggestive of a certain counterpart in 
 the animal creation, perhaps that could hardly have 
 been expected. Instead he rose slowly, beaming 
 on his conquered antagonist. " By their fruits " 
 he murmured. 
 
 Henry Carleton nodded, handing the check across 
 the desk. "Exactly," he said dryly. "By the 
 way, Van Socum, I heard a capital story the other 
 day. It was told this time about a man high 
 up in municipal office. ' Is that fellow Blank,' 
 asked some one who didn't know just what position 
 he really occupied, ' is that fellow Blank a poli- 
 tician or just a common thief f Good, wasn't 
 it?" 
 
 The Reverend William Van Socum laughed 
 heartily. " Oh, capital," he cried, and then, cas- 
 ually, he added, " you say that was told about a 
 politician? " 
 
 Henry Carleton met his glance. " Yes," he an- 
 swered, " that time it was told about a politician. 
 Well, good-by, Van Socum; call again. Always 
 
 158
 
 THREE YEARS LATER 
 
 glad to see you, you know, at any time. Good- 
 by." 
 
 Half way to the door Van Socum turned. " Oh, 
 by the way, Mr. Carleton," he said, " are any of 
 these rumors that I hear true, by any chance ? Are 
 you going to give your friends an opportunity in 
 the near future to see you reaping still further and 
 still higher honors? Or is it merely gossip? For 
 my part, I most sincerely hope that it's all true." 
 
 Henry Carleton's expression and tone were alike 
 inscrutable. " Thank you very much, I'm sure," 
 he returned, " but really I'm not at liberty to talk 
 just now." 
 
 Van Socum nodded. " I perfectly understand," 
 he answered. " Well, in any event I shall hope. 
 And don't forget, Mr. Carleton, the shining light. 
 It's most important. Good-by," and a little hastily 
 he passed from the room, with a certain satisfied 
 feeling that verbal honors were at least easy, and 
 that from the field of more practical warfare he had 
 again returned a triumphant victor. 
 
 Left alone, Henry Carleton, smiling a little to 
 himself, once more leaned comfortably back in his 
 
 159
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 chair. As he sat there, the waning sunlight, slant- 
 ing through the tall window, fell pleasantly upon 
 him, lighting up the dark, black-bearded face, with 
 the full red lips, and the keen and scrutinizing eyes. 
 A noticeable man, in almost any company, he would 
 have been, and justly so as well. Doing many 
 things, he did them all with skill. And still, in spite 
 of the activities in which he was actually engaged, 
 his friends were wont to talk of the many other 
 things he might have done living his life over 
 for him in retrospect, as people will and it was 
 significant of his many-sidedness to note the differ- 
 ent views which different people held of him. 
 Some said that the bar had been robbed of a great 
 lawyer, others that the universities had lost a great 
 teacher and instructor of youth, others still, like Mr. 
 Van Socurn, that the church alone should rightfully 
 have claimed his great talents. No one, perhaps, 
 had ever suggested that the stage had lost a great 
 actor. 
 
 And now, not satisfied with the active benevo- 
 lence that he had just displayed, Henry Carleton 
 was passively showing the same praiseworthy spirit 
 
 160
 
 THREE YEARS LATER 
 
 which actuated his every deed and word. His 
 day's work was done. It was ten minutes after 
 five, and there seemed to be no possible reason why 
 he should longer wait for the young man with 
 whom he had made an appointment at five o'clock 
 sharp. Adding to the fact that the young man was 
 late, the further information that Henry Carleton 
 felt tolerably sure he was coming to ask some sort 
 of favor of him, we behold the heights to which 
 it is possible for a man to rise. 
 
 Even patience, however, has its definite limits, 
 and at a quarter past five Henry Carleton snapped 
 his watch with a click, and had one hand already 
 Outstretched to close the top of his desk, when the 
 clerk knocked, and opened the door far enough to 
 announce Mr. Vaughan. Henry Carleton nodded, 
 sighed, again leaned back in his chair, and relin- 
 quished the idea of getting the five-thirty home. 
 
 A moment later Arthur Vaughan entered the 
 office with the rather breathless haste of the man 
 who is thoroughly aware that to keep a great finan- 
 cier waiting for a quarter of an hour is an offense 
 not lightly to be condoned. Indeed, about his 
 
 161
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 whole manner, in spite of his thirty years, there was 
 still something boyish and deprecating, the air of a 
 man who is perhaps too modest, too slow to assert 
 himself, yet who, if these be faults, is perhaps all 
 the more likable for possessing them. 
 
 He came quickly forward. " I'm awfully sorry, 
 Mr. Carleton," he began, " I know I'm late ; but 
 really I couldn't help it." 
 
 There may have been something a little less cor- 
 dial than usual in the manner in which Henry 
 Carleton shook the young man's proffered hand. 
 Yet his voice, when he answered, was politeness 
 itself. Early in life he had made it his invariable 
 rule to treat every man who had once crossed the 
 threshold of his office with complete and unvarying 
 courtesy, until he had found out exactly what the 
 visitor's business might be. After that, there was 
 of course room for wider discretion. And so now, 
 " Don't mention it," he said ; " a trifle late, perhaps, 
 but never mind. And what may I be able to do for 
 you, Mr. Vaughan ? " 
 
 Once seated, Vaughan appeared to be even more 
 ill at ease than before. His eyes were fixed on the 
 
 162
 
 THREE YEARS LATER 
 
 floor. His hat revolved aimlessly and sheepishly 
 enough between his nervous fingers. " Why," he 
 began, " why, the fact is, Mr. Carleton you see 
 what I wanted to tell you about you see " and 
 then he came to a full and embarrassed stop. 
 
 Henry Carleton, through a long and varied ex- 
 perience, was nothing if not a shrewd reader of 
 men. The same awkward hesitation, the same 
 nervousness, the same half-cringing expression; he 
 had seen them all displayed 'many times before by 
 men who had sat there in the inner office in the 
 selfsame seat which Vaughan was occupying now. 
 And nine times out of ten it all meant but one thing. 
 In the brief pause analysis and deduction in his 
 mind were practically one. Vaughan's manner 
 showed embarrassment. Vaughan was a would-be 
 literary man. All would-be literary men, in greater 
 or less degree, were poor. Vaughan, presuming on 
 a rather slight acquaintanceship, had come to bor- 
 row money. The whole matter was painfully plain. 
 
 And then, even at the very instant when Henry 
 Carleton had sorrowfully, but with philosophy, 
 arrived at this inevitable conclusion, Vaughan, 
 
 163
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 drawing a long breath, at last found his tongue. 
 " Why," he said, speaking with a seeming boldness 
 and hardihood which in reality were but the result 
 of the most extreme embarrassment, " it's like this, 
 Mr. Carleton; I want to marry Rose." 
 
 The proverbial bombshell, exploding at Henry 
 Carleton's feet, could hardly have made the same 
 havoc with his body that Vaughan's few words 
 managed to create in his mind. And yet, to his 
 credit be it said, his habitual self-control now stood 
 him in such stead that after the one first uncon- 
 trollable glance of sheer surprise, he at once con- 
 trived to conceal not only his amazement, but as 
 well any other feeling that might have been agitat- 
 ing his soul. And in another moment, indeed, he 
 had even successfully achieved a very fair imita- 
 tion of a jocular smile. " Rose," he echoed, " my 
 daughter Rose! Why, you're joking with me, my 
 dear fellow. She's not eighteen yet. She's a 
 child." 
 
 Vaughan, now that the worst was over, did not 
 seem to be properly disconcerted at the reply. 
 " Oh, I know she's quite young," he answered read- 
 
 164
 
 THREE YEARS LATER 
 
 ily enough, " but that doesn't seem to make any par- 
 ticular difference. We're both prepared for a 
 long engagement. I'm not well off, in the least. 
 It's bound to be some time before I could dream of 
 providing for her in any proper way at all. But 
 I love her, Mr. Carleton as much, I think, as any 
 man could and she loves me, and we think, after 
 all, that's the main thing. The other details we'll 
 work out somehow, I guess." 
 
 Henry Carleton had now perfectly regained his 
 self-possession. He gazed at the young man with 
 benevolence in his eye. " Yes, yes," he assented, a 
 little dreamily, " love, of course; that's the great es- 
 sential. With that I thoroughly agree. And yet, 
 while with me Rose's wishes are the first considera- 
 tion no, rather I should say the only considera- 
 tion still, as I Hnderstand you to say yourself, it 
 must equally be a point of proper pride with every 
 man to know that he is earning an honest living, 
 amply sufficient for all future needs. I take it that 
 you would hardly quarrel with that, Mr. 
 Vaughan? " 
 
 To Vaughan it appeared that he was progressing 
 165
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 famously. " No, indeed," he cried readily enough, 
 " I should say not. That's the first thing to con- 
 sider, of course. But I think I'm going to be able 
 to solve that difficulty in a short time now. I think 
 I'm fairly on my way to a little luck at last. You 
 know, of course, Mr. Carleton, in any of the arts it 
 isn't exactly the same proposition for a man as if 
 he'd chosen a business career. There, if he gets a 
 start, and then sticks to his job, and shows any 
 kind of ability at all, after a while he's almost cer- 
 tain to get somewhere or other. But with any of 
 the arts that's the chance a man takes when he 
 turns his back on the solid, steady kind of things 
 you can work along for a devil of a while, put- 
 ting in the very best that's in you, too, and yet you 
 always stand a good chance of not arriving at all, 
 or, if you do, perhaps not till two or three hundred 
 years after you're dead. And of course, while even 
 that, in a sense, is very gratifying, still it's hardly 
 practical. Dining late, but in select company, in 
 Lander's phrase, is all very well, if you can afford 
 it, but the majority of us poor fellows have to 
 
 166
 
 THREE YEARS LATER 
 
 dine in the middle of the day. The other thing's a 
 luxury we can't afford." 
 
 Henry Carleton nodded. " Quite so, quite so," 
 he said, " I know something of that myself. I 
 thoroughly appreciate all the difficulties in the way 
 of combining devotion to art with a large income. 
 It's one of the least gratifying things about our 
 life of the present day. And still, too, each year 
 I believe the artist is coming more and more fully 
 into his own. But you were going to say about 
 your immediate prospects " 
 
 Vaughan flushed a little. " I didn't mean to 
 ramble on into so long a preface," he said, " I'm 
 afraid it was nothing but a desire to excuse myself, 
 anyway. However, here's where I think I really 
 have a chance at last. I've written a book a 
 novel and it's in the hands of Small and White 
 now. Of course I needn't tell you what it would 
 mean to have their imprint on a book it would 
 be half the battle to start with. And I've been able 
 to get a little information in a roundabout way, so 
 that I have some idea of what's happening. I know 
 
 167
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 the book has got by the preliminary stages, anyway ; 
 I know that they're really considering it seriously, 
 and that is something in its favor. But I'm hoping 
 for more than that; I'm hoping that they will really 
 accept it, and launch it in good style; and if they 
 do, why I know of course you'll think I'm con- 
 ceited and over-fond of myself to say such a thing 
 but, with all sincerity, Mr. Carleton, I think the 
 book would be a success; I think it makes an ap- 
 proach to something like literary merit. Oh, if I 
 could once get my start get some pretext for 
 thinking that I had a right to put more and more 
 time into writing, and less and less into what is 
 really only the merest hack work, that has to be 
 done so hastily and superficially that in the end it 
 would kill any man's style then I'd work as no- 
 body ever worked before I'd kill myself to learn 
 to write as I want to write " 
 
 He broke off suddenly, his hands clenched, his 
 face ablaze with the passion of the artist who craves 
 to express in concrete form the dreams and visions 
 that float athwart his brain. Henry Carleton sat 
 regarding him narrowly, his face expressionless, 
 
 168
 
 THREE YEARS LATER 
 
 but when he spoke, his tone could hardly have beerr 
 kinder or more sympathetic. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I understand your feeling exactly," 
 he said, " and your ambition is a most worthy one. 
 I'm delighted to hear about the book, and if you will 
 allow me to do so, I should be very happy to try to 
 help a little. There are one or two ways that occur 
 to me offhand understand me, of course, ways 
 perfectly legitimate and businesslike in every par- 
 ticular, in which I think a word from me with Small 
 and White might at least do no harm. Won't you 
 try to get me a list of the men who do their reading 
 for them? We'll leave no stone unturned that 
 properly may be turned to give your effort a fair 
 show. Rose's happiness is my happiness, and to 
 see you in a position when you may rightfully pay 
 your addresses to her that I most earnestly de- 
 sire. And in the meantime, you must come out to 
 The Birches let me see come out to-mor- 
 row night, won't you, and dine with us? Jack's 
 coming, and another man, I think. I shall be de- 
 lighted to have you join us, and I think, after what 
 you have told me, I may safely answer for Rose." 
 
 169
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 He rose as he finished speaking, extending his 
 "hand in farewell. Vaughan, rising also, could only 
 stammer his thanks. " You're too kind, altogether, 
 Mr. Carleton," he managed to say. " I know how 
 any word from you would meet with the most re- 
 spectful consideration from Small and White. It 
 would help immensely. And as for to-morrow 
 night, nothing could please me more. And how is 
 Jack? I haven't seen him since he got back from 
 the West." 
 
 "Jack is greatly improved, I think," Henry 
 Carleton answered, as it seemed to Vaughan, a trifle 
 -shortly, " however, you'll see him to-morrow night, 
 and can judge for yourself." 
 
 Vaughan nodded. " I'm glad to hear it," he 
 said. " I got the impression from his letters that he 
 was doing far better in every way, and I'm awfully 
 glad if it's so. Well, I must go, Mr. Carleton. 
 You've been very kind to take everything the way 
 you have. I know, of course, in one way, at least, 
 what a disappointment this must be for you. I 
 don't care such a lot myself. Family trees and all 
 that never meant such a great deal to me, and 
 
 170
 
 THREE YEARS LATER 
 
 money bags even less, but for Rose's sake, why, I 
 wish I were the wealthiest man in the world, and 
 the most aristocratic; she ought to have everything 
 that a girl can have. So you're awfully good not 
 to make a row." 
 
 Again Henry Carleton smiled. " Nonsense," he 
 said heartily, " those things make no difference 
 with me, either. You've chosen a great career, and 
 all we must do now is to make success assured, so 
 that you can come to me as I know you want to 
 come, saying, * Mr. Carleton, I'm earning a fair 
 living; I can keep your daughter from want; I 
 wish to marry her.' That's the way you'll be com- 
 ing some day, and you'll find no one more ready to 
 congratulate you than I. Good-by again ; good-by." 
 
 As Vaughan left the office, Carleton slowly re- 
 seated himself. " Strange," he murmured, " a 
 prospective son-in-law in young Vaughan, and I 
 never even dreamed of it. Very prospective, too; 
 that's one comfort; and he seems actually to be- 
 lieve he may succeed in a literary career. Odd, 
 what a time youth is for such dreams. He seems 
 rather an inoffensive young man, at least ; plastic, I 
 
 171
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 should imagine, and rather easy to influence, if one 
 only goes about it in the right way. That, I judge, 
 is his weak point; that, and too great a tendency 
 to confide in others. Due, I suppose, to the lack of 
 a sound business training." He sat silently for 
 some moments, then repeated thoughtfully, " The 
 lack of a sound business training," and reached for 
 the telephone. And then, a moment later, " Is Mr. 
 Cummings in? Oh, it's you, is it, Jim? Want to 
 run over for a moment? Important? Yes, I 
 should call it so. Thank you. Good-by," and 
 restoring the receiver to its hook, he gave himself 
 up to earnest thought. 
 
 172
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE BIRCHES AGAIN 
 
 " The ancient grudge I bear him." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 OPPOSITE the gateway of the Eversley train, 
 the three men stood grouped together, with 
 growing impatience awaiting Jack Carleton's ar- 
 rival. The gilded hands of the big clock, embedded 
 in the solid masonry of the station wall, now 
 pointed to three minutes of five; the Eversley 
 "flyer" left at five precisely; and the long train 
 was filling more rapidly each instant. Henry 
 Carleton's tone plainly enough showed his displeas- 
 ure. " Whatever else it may have done for him," 
 he observed, " I can't see that a residence in Mon- 
 tana has improved Jack's habits of punctuality. 
 Perhaps, Vaughan, you wouldn't mind waiting here 
 for him and letting us go ahead and make sure of 
 getting seats. What do you say, Cummings ? " 
 
 173
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 Cummings nodded with alacrity. He was a man 
 between thirty and thirty-five, tall and heavily built. 
 His face, while rather of the bulldog type, yet to 
 the eye of the careful observer seemed to disclose 
 a certain weakness under the outward show of 
 strength. His complexion was of a vivid red, plen- 
 ti fully ornamented with those souvenirs which 
 come at length as badges of distinction to those who 
 have had the perseverance to drink hard and steadily 
 over a long enough term of years. His hair was 
 very black and very curly ; his tie perfectly matched 
 his complexion; and his clothes, though of excellent 
 make and cut, yet seemed a little obtrusive as well, 
 as if the effort at gentility had been somehow over- 
 done. Possibly several small trifles in his apparel 
 the conspicuously high polish on his shoes, the violet- 
 bordered corner of the immaculate handkerchief, 
 just visible above the breast pocket of his coat, the 
 pair of very new tan gloves that he carried in his left 
 hand all proclaimed something of the inner man ; 
 a man not lacking in a certain force and aggressive- 
 ness, even in a kind of blustering self-assertion and 
 desire for recognition, yet one who still realized 
 
 174
 
 THE BIRCHES AGAIN 
 
 with vague discomfort, that there was something 
 wrong about him. Jim Cummings was far from 
 being a fool. He was well-versed in the ways of 
 the city; had " been around," had " seen life; " was 
 altogether a pretty shrewd and capable young man. 
 And yet spite of all there was still a myster- 
 ious something somewhere lacking. To save his 
 soul, he could not have told what it was. Perhaps 
 Henry Carleton could. 
 
 "What do I say?" he echoed. "Sure, Mr. 
 Carleton; suit me fine. Just as cheap to sit down 
 as to stand, you know. Sure, let's get along." 
 
 In thus voicing his delight, it chanced that he 
 spoke the truth, as sometimes, indeed, he was wont 
 to do. Merely to be seen alone with Henry Carle- 
 ton, in what would doubtless have been his phrase, 
 " meant a lot " to him. And to have an hour's ride 
 with this versatile man of affairs, who had made a 
 great name for himself in " straight " business, in 
 the stock market, and in politics ; who was possessed 
 of "inside information"; who, if he chose, could 
 give a friend a " straight tip " ; and who had now 
 been kind enough again to ask him out to spend the 
 
 175
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 night, as on two or three memorable occasions he 
 had done before; why, this was a chance that might 
 well " mean a lot " to him in more senses than one. 
 
 Arthur Vaughan, no great admirer of Cummings, 
 appeared, as indeed he was, equally well pleased at 
 Henry Carleton's words. " Yes, indeed," he as- 
 sented cordially, " don't run the risk of missing a 
 seat, Mr. Carleton. I remember Jack's habits of 
 old. You go right along, and I'll wait here for 
 him." 
 
 Forthwith the two men took their departure, and 
 Vaughan, waiting until only a scant half minute 
 remained, was just on the point of leaving his post, 
 when he espied Carleton threading his way hastily 
 through the crowd. With only the briefest of 
 greetings, they swung aboard the rear car, by good 
 fortune found the one remaining vacant seat, and 
 then Vaughan turned and slowly surveyed his 
 friend from head to foot. At once he gave a quick 
 smile of satisfaction. " Well, Jack," he said, " you 
 are looking fit. I don't think you ever looked 
 better in your life." 
 
 " Oh, pretty fair, thanks," Carleton answered, 
 176
 
 THE BIRCHES AGAIN 
 
 but his appearance, indeed, far more than bore out 
 his words. He had regained and increased the 
 physical vigor of his college days. He was 
 broader, thicker, more solidly built, with an im- 
 pression of reserve strength which he had lacked 
 before. Nor did the change stop there. In face 
 and feature, in his manner, in his whole bearing, 
 there had come a change, and a change, too, in every 
 way for the better. In his expression, the old un- 
 certainty of purpose had given place to a look of 
 determined resolve; in his manner there was a new 
 alertness, a new interest ; from his eyes and mouth 
 a certain indescribable something had vanished, 
 leaving them pleasantly frank and wholesome. 
 
 With a pleased laugh, Vaughan looked down at 
 his friend's big brown hand, and placed his own, 
 white and slender, beside it. " I guess," he said, 
 "if it came to a fight, Jack, you could probably 
 manage to lick me." 
 
 Carleton smiled, and with equal interest returned 
 Vaughan's gaze. To him, Vaughan appeared 
 scarcely to have changed at all. About him there 
 was something of the man who is given to habitual 
 
 177
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 overwork, yet otherwise, in his rather delicate way, 
 he looked healthy and vigorous, and his face itself 
 was still as pleasant and as kindly as of old. Carle- 
 ton shook his head. " I don't think there will be 
 any fight, Arthur," he said, " my fighting days are 
 over. I've learned that much since I went away. 
 I've come to believe that they don't pay fights of 
 any kind." 
 
 Vaughan nodded, quick to take his meaning. 
 " Good," he answered, " I'm mighty glad to hear it, 
 Jack." 
 
 Carleton's glance had been roaming up and down 
 the aisle. " By the way," he said, " where's the 
 rest of our merry party? Where's my respected 
 uncle? And wasn't there somebody else he was 
 going to bring out with him?" 
 
 Vaughan's eyes searched the car in vain. " I 
 guess Mr. Carleton's up ahead," he returned, " prob- 
 ably in the smoker with Cummings." 
 
 Jack Carleton frowned. " Cummings ? " he 
 queried, " which Cummings ? Jim ? " 
 
 "Yes, Jim," Vaughan assented, "why? Know 
 him?" 
 
 178
 
 THE BIRCHES AGAIN 
 
 Carleton nodded. " Yes, I know him, all right. " 
 From his tone it would have been possible to 
 draw the inference that his opinion of Cummings 
 was scarcely favorable. But when, after a pause, 
 he turned again to his friend, it was not of Cum- 
 mings, but of Henry Carleton that he spoke. 
 "And how's Henry been standing it?" he asked, 
 " I've hardly heard anything, you see, for practically 
 three years now. I'm away behind the times." 
 
 " Why," Vaughan answered, " he's a bigger man 
 than ever, Jack. I guess I'm pretty well posted on 
 him. Being on the paper, you know, you pick up a 
 lot. He's a power on the Street now, and he's been 
 making big strides in politics, besides. Some folks 
 think he's right in line for the vacancy in the United 
 States senatorship. And I'm not sure but what it's 
 so, too. Then he's doing more for charity now 
 than he used to. He gave five thousand at one 
 crack the other day to something or other a mu- 
 sical conservatory, I think it was. And he does a 
 lot here at Eversley. The people out this way think 
 he's just about right. Gave a thousand last month 
 to the Eversley library, they say. Oh, I tell you it's 
 
 179
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 good to see a man on the crest of the wave who still 
 has an eye for the poor devils down in the hollow ; " 
 he paused for a moment, then added, with a 
 smile, " of whom I have the honor to be one, Jack. 
 You know I haven't made more than a million out 
 of reporting. It's funny, but journalists don't seem 
 to get appreciated in the salary line. But then, I 
 oughtn't to complain. I've made a living, and kept 
 out of debt, and if I hadn't had the folks down 
 home to look after, I might have had a little put by, 
 too. I'm not discouraged, either. I still consider 
 it a privilege to be alive, and not to be kicked. 
 
 " But I was going to tell you about Mr. 
 Carleton, and what he's going to do for me. I've 
 written a novel that I'm trying to get published, and 
 he's going to help me. I don't mean, of course, that 
 such things don't go strictly on their merits, but still, 
 even then, a friend at court doesn't do any harm. 
 I've seen a lot of it, or I wouldn't talk that way. 
 There's an inside story, I've come to believe, and 
 an inside track, in everything, even in art, where of 
 all places there shouldn't be. Not always, of 
 course, but, I believe, oftener than you'd think. 
 
 1 80
 
 THE BIRCHES AGAIN 
 
 And Mr. Carleton's surprisingly well known, every- 
 where. I've been amazed at it. I can't for the life 
 of me see how he manages to get the time for all 
 his different interests, but he does it somehow, and 
 what's more remarkable still, he contrives to do 
 everything well. His last bit of literary criticism 
 in Cosmopolis was really excellently done. It's 
 been well spoken of everywhere. So now that he's 
 going to turn to and help, I'm immensely en- 
 couraged." 
 
 For a moment or two Carleton sat silent, as if 
 perplexed. Then, " But why on earth," he asked, 
 " is Henry taking all this sudden interest in you?" 
 
 With a laugh of enjoyment, Vaughan leaned for- 
 ward. " I knew you'd ask that, Jack," he said tri- 
 umphantly. " That's what I was leading up to. 
 He's interested in me because there's a very good 
 chance that some day he's going to have the delight- 
 ful pleasure of welcoming me as his son-in-law." 
 
 For an instant Carleton stared at him ; then puck- 
 ered his lips in a whistle of amazement. " The 
 devil you say," he ejaculated, and then, after a 
 moment, as if he could think of nothing that would 
 
 181
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 better do justice to the situation, he repeated, with 
 even greater emphasis, " The devil you say." 
 
 Vaughan sat silently enjoying his surprise; then, 
 as his friend did not speak again, he said, a little 
 anxiously, " I hope you're pleased, Jack." 
 
 Carleton recovered a little from his astonishment. 
 The grip he gave Vaughan's hand was sufficient an- 
 swer, even before he found his tongue. " Pleased," 
 he echoed, " of course I am. I couldn't be more so. 
 You know that without my saying it. But more 
 than surprised, Arthur. I didn't know you were 
 even interested in that direction. I can't realize it 
 yet. Rose! Why, she hadn't put away her dolls 
 when I left home. But three years. Let's see. 
 Thirteen fourteen seventeen that's right, 
 she's almost eighteen, now. A child and a woman 
 I suppose that's the size of it. Well, well, Ar- 
 thur, this is fine. And she's a splendid little girl, 
 too. You're a lucky man. Any idea when you'll 
 be married? " 
 
 Vaughan shook his head. " No, indeed," he an- 
 swered, " I only wish I had. You see it's just as I 
 told you. I'm a poor man, and I've got to make 
 
 182
 
 THE BIRCHES AGAIN 
 
 good first, before I can decently ask her to leave a 
 home like the one she's got now. Mr. Cadeton put 
 all that part of it to me plainly enough yesterday. 
 Plainly enough, and fairly enough, too. I have to 
 admit that. But I can't help wishing, just the 
 same, for once in my life, that I did have a little 
 money to fall back on, or that my prospects were a 
 little brighter. However, I surely can't complain; 
 and now, Jack, it's your turn. How about your- 
 self, and how about the ranching? Is it all you 
 thought it would be ? " 
 
 But Carleton did not seem disposed to talk of 
 himself. " Oh, yes," he answered absently, " all 
 that, and more. It's the greatest ever " then, 
 breaking off abruptly, he asked, " Do you know, Ar- 
 thur, when Colonel Graham's expected back from 
 England?" 
 
 Vaughan looked at him with a smile. " Colonel 
 Graham?" he said, "did you say Colonel, Jack? " 
 
 Carleton nodded. " That's what I said," he an- 
 swered, " Colonel Graham. You know I used to 
 be pretty good friends with him once on a time." 
 
 Vaughan's smile broadened. " Yes, I know," he 
 183
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 answered dryly, " and you used to be very good 
 friends with some one else. Are you sure it isn't 
 Marjory you mean, Jack, and not the colonel? " 
 
 At last Carleton smiled too. " Well," he re- 
 turned, " I won't argue about it. You can put it 
 that way if you like. When do they get back? " 
 
 " Three months, I believe," answered Vaughan, 
 " I think that was what Rose said." He paused, 
 then added with sympathy, " Sounds like a long 
 time, too, I'll bet." 
 
 Carleton made no answer. Slackening speed, 
 the train came to a halt, and rising, they filed down 
 the aisle, and out on the Eversley platform, to find 
 Henry Carleton and Cummings awaiting them. 
 Somewhat perfunctorily Jack Carleton shook hands 
 with Cummings; then turned to his uncle. "Wait 
 for me just a minute," he said, " I've got a bag here 
 somewhere," and he strode off into the station, 
 while the others turned the corner, and took their 
 places in Carleton's waiting motor, Cummings and 
 Vaughan ushered by their host into the tonneau, 
 while he himself took his seat in front with the 
 chauffeur, a short, thick-set young fellow, with 
 
 184
 
 THE BIRCHES AGAIN 
 
 a round, pleasant face, honest eyes, and a frank and 
 good-humored smile. He touched his cap, and 
 Henry Carleton nodded in return. " Everything 
 all right, Satterlee ? " he asked, and the chauffeur 
 quickly responded, "Yes, sir; everything all right, 
 sir;" then, very respectfully, as if he realized 
 that his interest was leading him into a breach of 
 strict decorum, " Isn't Mr. Jack coming, sir? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, he'll be here in a moment," answered 
 his employer, and even as he spoke, Carleton ap- 
 peared around the corner of the station, tossed his 
 bag into the tonneau, and came up to the front of 
 the machine with outstretched hand. " Well, Tom, 
 old man," he cried, " and how are you ? Looking 
 fine. You couldn't drive anything but horses when 
 I went away. How do you like this kind of thing? 
 More speed, I guess, all right." 
 
 The chauffeur's answering smile was the friend- 
 liest imaginable, although his taking of Carleton's 
 outstretched hand was a little reluctant, as if he 
 were aware that this was a freedom hardly likely, 
 in a servant, to find favor in his master's eyes. 
 Henry Carleton, indeed, frowned with repressed
 
 disapproval. Kindness and even affability toward 
 one's dependents were permissible but this frank 
 friendship, with its implication of equality, of 
 which Jack was guilty, was apt to be destructive of 
 a proper domestic regime. " We're waiting, Jack," 
 he said, his meaning perfectly manifest in his tone, 
 " jump in behind, please." 
 
 Jack Carleton was about to comply; then sud- 
 denly, either the beauty of the day or his lack of 
 pleasure in Jim Cummings' society, served to 
 make him change his mind. He stepped quickly 
 back. " I guess I'll walk it, after all," he said, 
 " just for the sake of old times. See you at the 
 house," and before he had gone a quarter of the 
 length of the station lane, a cloud of powdery dust 
 was the only memento of the big motor left in sight. 
 
 Thoughtfully he traversed the familiar path, the 
 meadow lying smooth and fair before him, still 
 peaceful and serene as on the day when Helmar had 
 walked there three years ago. The same outward 
 world, the same green underfoot, the same glory of 
 blue above. But though Helmar had found noth- 
 ing but pleasure in the scene, now, mellowed and 
 
 186
 
 THE BIRCHES AGAIN 
 
 tinted with the oncoming of the summer night, 
 Carleton's meditation ran in a quieter and sadder 
 strain. 
 
 Midway at the bank of the little stream, he 
 paused, and his thoughts, casting backward, were ef 
 the little boy who had sailed his boat in the pool 
 below the bridge, and who had searched so patiently 
 along the pleasant, grass-grown banks to gather and 
 bring home in triumph to his mother the earliest 
 violets of the spring. Tinged all with vague re- 
 gret were his dreamings, as backward glances in one 
 sense always must be, but even as his thoughts came 
 down the years, his face did not seem to brighten 
 with them. 
 
 " Three years," he muttered, "of good resolu- 
 tions. Three years of killing out old hatred, and 
 honestly trying to feel toward him as I ought. And 
 now almost the first day home to be put back 
 just where I was before. To find him the same as 
 ever, so smooth, so self-satisfied, and so cursedly 
 successful, too, And if I told any one what I be- 
 lieve why, they'd think I was mad, I suppose." 
 
 Once more he started on nis homeward way, 
 187
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 taking the old familiar short-cut through the woods, 
 as the twilight deepened and the shadows of the tall 
 elms lengthened down the quiet road. Still lost in 
 thought, he strode along unheeding ; then all at once, 
 struck with a sense of something unfamiliar, he 
 pulled up sharply and glanced about him. The 
 path he was following now was new to him, there 
 was something about it which he could not call to 
 mind, tax his memory as he would. And then sud- 
 denly, as he turned a sharp corner, tucked 
 away amid the shelter of a grove of birches which 
 rose about it on every hand, a little cottage appeared 
 before his eyes. 
 
 For a moment he stood silent, staring in astonish- 
 ment. Of this Henry had told him nothing. 
 The Birches itself was still a good half mile 
 away. " What in the world " he muttered to 
 himself, and then, obeying a sudden impulse, he 
 turned aside, walked quickly up the path to the little 
 house, mounted the steps leading to the porch, and 
 knocked. 
 
 For a moment or two he waited. Then 
 188
 
 THE BIRCHES AGAIN 
 
 somewhere above him, a window opened; a 
 woman's voice called low, " Is it you ? " 
 
 At the sound Carleton threw back his head with 
 an uncontrollable start of astonishment; and then 
 without raising his voice, he answered, " Yes, it's I." 
 
 The window closed. A moment still he waited 
 in suspense, until the door cautiously opened. And 
 then, suddenly, through the dusk there sounded a 
 surprised cry, " Jack, Jack ! " 
 
 Carleton took a quick step forward. Three long 
 years, as far as seeing women of any attraction 
 went, he had spent practically alone. Three long 
 years, and in the girl before him what a change. 
 Charming she had always been, yet now in looks, 
 in dress, in bearing, in every way she had altered 
 for the better a hundredfold. Almost with a gasp, 
 the memories of old days came flooding over heart 
 and mind and soul. His voice, when at last he 
 spoke, sounded hoarse with stifled emotion; 
 "Jeanne," he cried, "you!" 
 
 As of old, the woman seemed to dominate the 
 situation. She laughed the old friendly laugh as 
 
 189
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 she stepped backward into the gloom. Her words 
 were commonplace enough, but not the tone in 
 which she uttered them. " I'm glad to see you 
 back, Jack," she said. " Won't you come in ? " 
 
 190
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING 
 
 " What mighty ills have not been done by \w>man ! " 
 
 Otway. 
 
 IT was nearly seven o'clock when Jack Carleton 
 strolled into the carriage house, to find Satter- 
 lee, sleeves rolled up, his big rubber apron tied 
 around his waist, busy washing the carriages. 
 Leisurely Carleton took his seat upon an inverted 
 bucket, and lit a cigarette. " So you use a horse 
 now and then, too, do you, Tom?" he asked, "it 
 isn't all automobiles?" 
 
 Satterlee grinned a little ruefully. " To speak 
 true, Mr. Jack," he answered, " we gets a lot of 
 trouble out of that there machine. The gentlemen 
 walked the last quarter mile to-night, and she's out 
 there in the road yet. You see, we got a new uni- 
 versal joint " 
 
 Carleton raised his hand. " No, no," he cried, 
 191
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 " you don't get me to listen to any of those yarns. 
 I don't know anything about motors, and I don't 
 want to. A horse is good enough for me. It isn't 
 your automobile troubles I want to hear about, Tom. 
 It's your own, if you've got any, only I don't be- 
 lieve you have. As near as I can make out, you're 
 an infernally lucky man." 
 
 The chauffeur nodded. " I am that, sir," he an- 
 swered, readily enough. " No man could have had 
 better luck, or more of it, than I've had the last 
 year. It seems sometimes to me, Mr. Jack, like it 
 couldn't really be so. It's been most too much for 
 one man." 
 
 Jack nodded. " It was all a surprise to me," he 
 said. " Mr. Carleton never told me he'd built you 
 the house; I didn't even know you were married. 
 I wouldn't know it now if I hadn't happened to stop 
 in there on the way up from the train. I only did 
 it out of curiosity, too. I wondered who on earth 
 had built that house, so near the big one." 
 
 Satterlee's face lit up with pleasure. " I'm more 
 than glad you did, sir," he said. " It's a neat little 
 
 192
 
 THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING 
 
 place, if I am saying so. And you were after see- 
 ing the Mrs., I suppose? " 
 
 Jack nodded again. " Yes, indeed I did. She's 
 prettier than ever, Tom. And she was telling me 
 all about the house. So Mr. Carleton built it for 
 you." 
 
 Satterlee pushed the wagon back into place, re- 
 moved his apron, and took his stand in front of 
 Carleton. " Yes, sir," he answered, " you see, it 
 was like this. I always liked Jeanne fine no one 
 could help it, she's got that way with her but I 
 always thought as how she was more than a cut 
 above me, being, as you might say, a lady, almost. 
 And she never'd have much to say to me, either, ex- 
 cepting to pass the time of day, and such like things, 
 you know, just friendly like, and nothing more. 
 But about a year ago, of a sudden she began to 
 seem to take more notice of me, and at last, never 
 dreaming I was doing anything more than settle 
 all my hopes of ever getting her, once and for all, 
 I got that crazy about her I up and asked her- 
 and she said she would. And then I didn't know 
 
 193
 
 what to do. I wanted to go to housekeeping, of 
 course ; I knew where I could rent a tidy little house 
 down in the village, but I was feared of losing my 
 job, if Mr. Carleton shouldn't seem to take kindly 
 to the idea of it. 
 
 " Well, at last I told him, and he seemed pleased 
 enough, and asked me about my plans, and so on, 
 and finally he said he'd like to think it over for 
 a while. So I said all right, of course, and one 
 evening he came down here, and talked a long 
 time, about how fine a thing it was to be married 
 he spoke something beautiful about his poor 
 dear lady and said as how that I'd always done 
 my work right, and been a faithful man to him, 
 and as how he knew Jeanne was a fine girl, and 
 so on, and finally that he'd hate to have me leave 
 him I got scared then but he didn't want me 
 so far away as the village, and so, if I'd like it, 
 partly for me, and partly for a good example to 
 the rest of the house, he'd build me a cottage right 
 here on tlie place, and set me up to housekeeping 
 there. And that he did, and you've seen the cot- 
 tage for yourself, so there's no need of my saying 
 
 194
 
 THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING 
 
 what a neat little place it is, or how happy we are. 
 I like it fine, and Jeanne even more than me, I be- 
 lieve; you know what it is for a woman to have 
 her own home to fuss round with; flowers and 
 a vegetable garden, and all such things. We 
 couldn't be better fixed in all the wide world." 
 
 Carleton slowly nodded. " Well, I should say 
 not," he said at length. " And about the money, 
 too. Jeanne was telling me of that." 
 
 Satterlee's face brightened. " Wasn't that the 
 greatest ever?" he said. "I never knew she had 
 relatives so well fixed as that; I guess she didn't, 
 either; but Mr. Carleton looked after all the law 
 part of it for her, and it seems she gets a steady 
 income for the rest of her life. Not so much, of 
 course, for some folks, but -for her, you see, it's 
 just pin money, to do as she likes with. Of course 
 I'd never touch a cent of it; I'm doing pretty well 
 myself, and I live simple, anyway; but she likes 
 her fine clothes, and her trip in town, same as all 
 the women do, and I'm glad to let her have the fun. 
 Sometimes I get let off, too, but I don't like to go 
 often; there's plenty doing here with six horses, 
 
 195
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 and that rascal of a car. And this summer she's 
 going off for two months to the mountains with 
 some friends of hers. You see, the work gets 
 slacker then; Mr. Carleton always goes away about 
 that time, and it's pretty hot here, of course, for a 
 woman, anyway. Yes, Jeanne's quite the lady now, 
 and no one more glad than me." 
 
 Carleton, again nodding thoughtfully, sat for 
 some time in silence without looking up. At last 
 he raised his eyes to the chauffeur's. " Tom," he 
 said, speaking with unwonted gravity, " I'd like to 
 ask you one question. What do you really 
 think " Abruptly he broke off.' "Well, speak- 
 ing of angels," he muttered, and again was silent. 
 
 Down the drive Henry Carleton was walking 
 briskly toward them, with a step that a youth of 
 twenty might have envied. As he entered the car- 
 riage house, he eyed the pair a trifle keenly, it 
 seemed, yet when he spoke his tone was amiability 
 itself. "Ah, Jack," he said, "I wondered where 
 you'd gone. Talking over old times with Satterlee, 
 I suppose. We dine at seven, you know." 
 
 196
 
 THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING 
 
 Carelessly Jack Carleton answered him. " Yes,, 
 I know. I'll be ready. Lots of time yet." 
 
 There was nothing in the words at which offense 
 could be taken, yet at the tone Henry Carleton' s 
 eyebrows were raised a trifle. " Suit yourself," he 
 said, " as long as you're not late," then turning to 
 the chauffeur. " It's unfortunate about the motor, 
 isn't it, Satterlee? I understand you to say that 
 you can't possibly have it fixed before to-morrow 
 night?" 
 
 Satterlee shook his head. " Oh, no, sir, not pos- 
 sibly," he answered. " I shall have to go in town 
 to-morrow morning, and see them at the factory. 
 And then there's a good half day, just on labor 
 alone. No, sir, to-morrow night would be the very 
 earliest possible." 
 
 Henry Carleton' s face clouded a trifle, and for a 
 moment he thought in silence. Then he spoke, with 
 a little reluctance evident in his manner. " I don't 
 like to~ask you to do it, Satterlee, but I can't see 
 any other way. I've promised to send a message 
 over to Mr. Sheldon to-night, a message which is. 
 
 197
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 of great importance to both of us. I was going to 
 ask you to take the motor, and go over after din- 
 ner it wouldn't have taken much over an hour, 
 I suppose but that's out of the question now. 
 Do you think, Satterlee, you could oblige me by 
 taking one of the horses, and driving over. It will 
 be something of a trip, I'm afraid." 
 
 Satterlee's assent could hardly have been readier, 
 or more heartily given. "Of course I'll go, sir," 
 he answered, " and be more than glad to. It's not 
 too long a drive, sir. The night's fine. Let me 
 see. Twelve miles over. Twelve miles back. I 
 could take old Robin, sir, and make it in a matter 
 of three hours, or I could take Fleetwood, in the 
 sulky, and make it in pretty near an hour quicker, 
 if there's haste." 
 
 Henry Carleton shook his head. " Oh, no, 
 there's no special hurry," he answered, " and I 
 wouldn't take Fleetwood, I think. I want to save 
 him for Mr. Jack to drive to-morrow. No, I think 
 I'd take old Robin. And I suppose you could get 
 started by eight. If you'll stop at the house, then, 
 
 198
 
 THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING 
 
 Satterlee, I'll have everything ready, and I'm sure 
 I'm much obliged to you. I won't forget it." 
 
 Satterlee's face showed his pleasure. There was 
 a thought fulness and consideration in his master's 
 manner unusual and agreeable. " You're more 
 than welcome, I'm sure, sir," he said. " I'll be 
 ready sharp at eight." 
 
 Jack Carleton had stood silent, with knitted 
 brows. Now he looked up quickly, gazing at Henry 
 Carleton with a singular intentness, considering the 
 comparative unimportance of the matter involved. 
 
 " What's the matter with telephoning? " he asked 
 abruptly, well-nigh rudely, in fact. 
 
 Henry Carleton smiled at him benignantly itt re- 
 turn. " You always were fond of old Robin, 
 weren't you, Jack? " he said. " Well, I hate myself 
 to use a horse on a drive as long as that, and I hate 
 to use Satterlee so late at night, besides. But these 
 happen to be a set of plans, Jack, and you know 
 to telephone plans is rather a difficult thing; and, 
 since you've been so good as to interest yourself in 
 the matter, I'll tell you further that they're street 
 
 199
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 railway plans, of very great importance, consider- 
 ing the fact that Sheldon is my counsel before a 
 committee of the legislature to-morrow morning. 
 After all," he added more slowly, " it is a prac- 
 tical world, Jack. Some one has to look after 
 things, even if it involves an evening trip, a horse 
 and a man. But I suppose it's hard for you to get 
 used to it. Yours never was the strictly practical 
 side." 
 
 The tone was of kindly benevolence. That there 
 was a deliberate purpose behind the words was evi- 
 dent. Jack Carleton's face gave no sign, save that 
 all at once his eyes seemed suddenly to have turned 
 hard and cold. " I see perfectly now," he an- 
 swered. " Pardon my suggestion, won't you ? I 
 didn't know the drive was connected with any plans, 
 or of course I shouldn't have spoken. Well, I guess 
 I'll go ahead and dress for dinner now." 
 
 He turned with elaborate nonchalance, almost 
 feeling Henry Carleton's searching glance follow 
 him; and once, half way up the drive, he chuckled 
 to himself, as if in his mind he felt perfectly satis- 
 fied with the result of the little encounter of words. 
 
 200
 
 "I can't tell you how glad 1 am." Page 201
 
 THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING 
 
 As he mounted the piazza, steps, from the cosy 
 corner hidden far back among the ivy, Rose Carle- 
 ton and Vaughan advanced a little consciously to 
 meet him. Very possibly, from a certain tumbled 
 look about her pretty curls and a flush in her cheeks 
 suspiciously bright, he felt that he might have done 
 well to enter the house from the side door. Yet, 
 if he had proved an interrupter, she readily enough 
 forgave him, coming forward with hands out- 
 stretched, and kissing him affectionately, first on 
 one cheek and then on the other. " Well, cousin 
 Jack," she cried, " it's seemed so long. Welcome 
 home again; I can't tell you how glad I am." 
 
 He held her off at arm's length, looking at her 
 with real affection in his glance, yet quizzically. 
 " My dear," he said, " those are very nice kisses. 
 You weren't as skilful as that when I left. But 
 practice, I suppose, will do a lot for any one." 
 
 Rose Carleton's face flushed, but not at all with 
 anger. She held up an admonishing finger. 
 " Why," she cried, " I am surprised at you. Even 
 to hint at such a thing," and then suddenly shifting 
 the attack, " And what's made you such a judge of 
 
 20 1
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 kisses, anyway? Were they, experts out where 
 you've been. I think you ought to explain, at 
 least." 
 
 Carleton laughed. " Never mind, never mind," 
 he said, " we'll change the subject at once ; I'm get- 
 ting embarrassed; but seriously, my dear, I wish 
 you two people all the luck in the world. Noth- 
 ing could please me better; you can be sure 
 of that. But I'm not going to stay here and say 
 nice things about you; I'll warrant you do enough 
 of that yourselves to make you as proud as pea- 
 cocks. And if I don't get ready for dinner, Henry'll 
 give me a calling down; I know that much from 
 old times," and with a friendly wave of his hand 
 by way of parting benediction, he took his de- 
 parture for his room. 
 
 To an outsider, it might have seemed that the 
 company assembled for dinner was a somewhat curi- 
 ously assorted one; yet the dinner itself, thanks to 
 the efforts of the dark, observant man who pre- 
 sided at the head of the table, could hardly have 
 been more successful. Tact always tact and 
 
 202
 
 THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING 
 
 in little things even more than in great, this was 
 the feature that distinguished Henry Carleton' s dis- 
 charge of his duties as host. And once well under 
 way, there was little reason, indeed, why the occa- 
 sion should not have been a success. The meal 
 was one for an epicure, deliciously cooked and fault- 
 lessly served, and with a quality and variety in the 
 liquids which accompanied it, sufficient to satisfy 
 even Cummings himself. Fortunate, indeed, it 
 seemed, that Jack Carleton took nothing at all, and 
 that Henry Carleton and Vaughan drank sparingly, 
 for Cummings' capacity was frankly enormous. 
 Constantly his red face grew redder and redder, 
 and his conversation became every moment more 
 and more monopolistic; yet Henry Carleton, with 
 the courtesy of the host, seemed to pay no heed, 
 and if there was any conflict between the laws of 
 temperance and those of hospitality, the star of the 
 latter seemed to be in the ascendant, for the butler 
 was even more than assiduous in his attentions, and 
 took good care that the bottom of Cummings' glass 
 was never visible from the beginning of the dinner 
 until the end. 
 
 203
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 A little late in beginning, it was doubtless due to 
 Cummings' frank enjoyment of his food and drink, 
 and his innocent delight in recounting at length an- 
 ecdote after anecdote of which he was invariably 
 the hero, that the dinner came to an end far later 
 than Henry Carleton had anticipated. It was fully 
 half-past eight, indeed, before he had the oppor- 
 tunity to slip out on the piazza, where Satterlee sat 
 patiently waiting, with old Robin dozing peacefully 
 between the shafts. " I'm sorry, Satterlee," he 
 said, as he handed over the parcel ; " I didn't mean 
 to keep you waiting so long. I'm afraid it's going 
 to be pretty late before you get back." 
 
 Satterlee gathered up the reins. " Close to mid- 
 night, I expect, sir," he answered cheerfully, 
 " maybe later, if the old fellow doesn't happen to 
 be feeling very brisk. But what's the odds? The 
 night's fine, and there'll be a moon later on. It's 
 no difference to me. Good night, sir. I'll be ready 
 for the eight-two, in the morning," and he jogged 
 leisurely away down the avenue. 
 
 The rest of the party, in the meantime, had joined 
 their host on the piazza. Almost imperceptibly 
 
 204
 
 THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING 
 
 Rose and Vaughan seemed to be again gravitating 
 in the direction of the sheltered corner. Jack Carle- 
 ton, observing them, smiled to himself; then turned 
 to his host. "If you'll excuse me, Henry," he 
 said, " I believe I'll go up to my room, smoke a pipe 
 and turn in. I've been awfully short of sleep since 
 I got back." 
 
 Henry Carleton, the hospitable, with the greatest 
 readiness assented. " Why, of course, Jack, don't 
 talk of my excusing you. No such ceremony as 
 that out here. Turn in, and sleep the clock around, 
 if you want to. Come on, Cummings. You and 
 I will have a little game of billiards, if that'll suit 
 you." 
 
 "Suit me?" echoed Cummings expansively, 
 " well, I guess yes. Surest thing you know." 
 This, he reflected to himself, was certainly going 
 some. This was being treated better than ever be- 
 fore. A bang-up dinner ; all the fizz he wanted 
 that, from Cummings, meant much and now a 
 game of billiards with the old man. And billiards 
 was his particular long suit. No wonder that he 
 was perfectly happy. Scarcely, it seemed to him, 
 
 205
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 could he wait until the next morning, to see the 
 other fellows in the office, and recount all his good 
 fortune to their well-nigh unbelieving ears. 
 " Surest thing you know," he repeated again, " just 
 what I'd like to do." 
 
 Left alone, Rose Carleton and Vaughan retreated 
 under the shadow of the vines. For a little while, in- 
 deed, with a self-restraint most commendable, their 
 talk was not wholly of themselves. A few words 
 they had to say about Jack; a few, with bated 
 breath, concerning Cummings and his peculiarities; 
 a brief account Vaughan gave of his wholly pleas- 
 ant and successful interview with Henry Carleton, 
 and then, in spite of themselves, their talk swung 
 around into the path of that endless circle which 
 engrosses so absolutely the attention of those happy 
 persons but newly engaged, and soon, all uncon- 
 sciously, they had drifted away into the realms of 
 the small but all-sufficing world which can never 
 be inhabited by more than two. 
 
 Meanwhile, up-stairs in the billiard room Jim 
 Cummings was enjoying himself always more and 
 more. The table was perfect; the cigar from the 
 
 206
 
 THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING 
 
 box which Henry Carleton had carelessly shoved 
 toward him he had appraised with a critical eye, 
 and instantly classified as a twenty-five-cent straight ; 
 at his elbow, on the neat little sideboard, were 
 liqueurs, and Scotch and soda. Only a victory at 
 the game was needed to make for Cummings a 
 perfect world, and that finally was also forthcom- 
 ing. Not easily, indeed ; old Carleton, to his infinite 
 surprise, played a most surprising game, marred 
 only by a tendency to slip up on easy shots after he 
 had made a run of those which almost any amateur 
 in the city might have envied. The first game went 
 to Cummings, the second to his host, the third and 
 rubber at last, after the closest of finishes, to Cum- 
 mings again. And then, pulling their chairs up to 
 the little table, they sat for perhaps half an hour 
 and talked. Cummings, indeed, seemed to be the 
 leader as far as number of words went; Carleton 
 apparently doing little more than to make a sug- 
 gestion here, propound a difficulty there, and then 
 finally to allow himself to be assured by Cummings' 
 lordly manner of overcoming every obstacle in the 
 path. At last they rose; the lights in the billiard 
 
 207
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 room were extinguished, and Carleton left his guest 
 at the door of the bedroom allotted to him. " So I 
 think," he said, laying a friendly hand on Cum- 
 mings' arm, " that, as between two men of the 
 world, we may fairly say that we perfectly under- 
 stand each other." 
 
 Cummings' speech was a trifle thick, something 
 scarcely to be wondered at, but his step was steady, 
 and his brain clear. " Perfe'ly," he responded. 
 " No misund'standing at all. Perfe'ly, I'm sure." 
 
 Henry Carleton looked at him sharply. He was 
 well aware of the quantity of liquor his guest had 
 somehow managed to put away. " And just one 
 thing," he added, " you won't forget that it's got 
 to be done quietly. That's the important thing. 
 You can't be too careful. It's a most delicate mis- 
 sion. That, Jim," he added in a burst of confi- 
 dence, " is why I selected you." 
 
 Cummings' immediate expansion was visible to 
 the eye. " I 'predate your choice," he responded 
 handsomely, " and I un'erstand just how you want 
 it done. 'S that enough, or d'you want talk some 
 more ? " 
 
 208
 
 THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING 
 
 Henry Carleton whipped out his watch. " No, 
 no," he answered hastily, " it's late now, Jim. 
 Later than I thought. We understand each other, 
 of course. Do your best, that's all. And, Jim," 
 he added, with a curious note, almost, one would 
 have said, of entreaty, in his tone, " you under- 
 stand my motives perfectly, don't you? You see 
 my reasoning? You're convinced that I'm acting 
 for the best?" 
 
 Singular enough it was to see the great financier 
 verging on an appeal to a man in every way so far 
 his inferior. Cummings, even in his slightly be- 
 fuddled condition, seemed to appreciate the honor 
 conferred. "Mr. Carleton," he answered, "I un'- 
 erstand 'ntirely. Your motives irreproachable; no 
 one say otherwise, by possibility." 
 
 Henry Carleton looked his relief. " Good," he 
 said briefly. " I shouldn't proceed without your 
 approval of the plan. And you will bear in mind 
 the need of haste, I know." 
 
 It was five minutes later that he rejoined his 
 daughter and Vaughan upon the piazza, with his 
 usual thought fulness emerging slowly from the 
 
 209
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 house, and clearing his throat somewhat ostenta- 
 tiously several times by way of fair and friendly 
 warning. It may have been that this signal was 
 needed, it may have been that it was not; in any 
 event, when Henry Carleton had actually reached 
 the cosy corner, it was to find Rose and Vaughan 
 seated decorously enough some distance apart, al- 
 though for the moment, indeed, conversation be- 
 tween the two appeared to have come completely to 
 a standstill. 
 
 Henry Carleton eyed them benevolently. " A 
 beautiful night," he observed impartially, and then, 
 more especially addressing himself to Rose, " Did 
 you know that it was after half-past ten, my dear. 
 Early to bed, you know." 
 
 In the darkness Rose Carleton frowned impa- 
 tiently. Yes, she knew. That she should retire 
 early was one point on which her father insisted 
 with a strictness that made it hopeless to contest 
 the point with him. " Early to bed." She felt a huge 
 dislike for the worthy originator of the phrase. 
 Even the soundest and sanest of maxims, without 
 the occasional exception which proves the rule, 
 
 210
 
 THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING 
 
 may come to mean next to nothing. " Yes, I know 
 it," she answered shortly, with just a trace of irri- 
 tated rebellion in her tone. Eighteen does not rel- 
 ish being treated like twelve. 
 
 Her father noted the tone. " Well, good night, 
 my dear," he observed evenly. " Say good night 
 to Mr. Vaughan, and don't forget to be up in good 
 season to-morrow. We shall be a little hurried 
 without the motor. You must have our coffee 
 ready for us sharp on time." Then, a pause ensu- 
 ing, without any move seeming to come from Rose, 
 he added persuasively, " I trust you and Mr. 
 Vaughan have enjoyed your evening together, my 
 dear." 
 
 There was a hint of mild reproach in his tone, 
 and at the words forthwith the girl relented. It 
 was true enough. He had been considerate to allow 
 her to have Vaughan to herself for the evening. 
 It would have been easy to have managed things 
 otherwise. He was a pretty good father, after all. 
 So obediently she rose and gave her hand to 
 Vaughan, with just sufficient pressure to let him un- 
 derstand that had the occasion served, her good 
 
 211
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 night \vould have been a very different one, kissed 
 her father, and went quietly up-stairs. 
 
 Left alone, Vaughan turned to Henry Carleton. 
 
 " Cummings turned in? " he asked casually. 
 
 Carleton nodded. " Yes, he's turned in, I be- 
 lieve," he answered; then, with the hospitality for 
 which he was famous, he added, " Is there anything 
 more that I may chance to be able to do for your 
 entertainment, Mr. Vaughan?" 
 
 Vaughan shook his head. " Oh, thanks, no," he 
 answered, " I'm ready for bed myself, I believe." 
 
 " Very well," said Carleton quickly, " then I 
 think, in that case, if you will excuse me, I'll take 
 my little turn about the grounds and retire myself. 
 If you should care for a pipe on the piazza, the 
 house is always open. We don't lock up here at 
 all. I always say, if a burglar is going to try to 
 break into a country house, that's all windows and 
 doors, a key turned in the lock isn't going to stop 
 him. So you can get in at any time between now 
 and morning." 
 
 Vaughan laughed. " Thanks," he answered, 
 " that's genuine kindness, but I don't think I shall 
 
 212
 
 THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING 
 
 take advantage of it. A bed seems more attractive 
 to me just now than a pipe even." 
 
 " Suit yourself," answered Carleton, " I'll have 
 my man call you in the morning. Good night." 
 
 He turned indoors as he spoke, and Vaughan 
 stood silent for perhaps five minutes, looking out 
 into the glorious summer night, with his thoughts 
 where they could scarcely have failed to be 
 on the wonderment of all the happiness that had 
 come to him, on the difference that the love of a 
 girl had made in him, his ambitions, his hopes, of 
 all the great things that he longed to accomplish now 
 for her sake, to show her that perhaps she had not 
 chosen unworthily. 
 
 Then, coming suddenly to himself, he decided 
 that it would be pleasant to accompany Carleton on 
 his rounds, looked indoors for him, and not finding 
 him there, concluded that he must have gone out by 
 some other way. Coming out once more on to the 
 piazza., he stood for a moment irresolute, had even 
 made a hesitating step toward the house again, and 
 then, summoned irresistibly by some subtle kinship 
 with tree and flower, star and whispering breeze, 
 
 213
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 he walked hastily down the steps, and then, more 
 leisurely, strolled away around the curve of the 
 drive until his figure was lost amid the shrubbery 
 of the lawn. 
 
 Surely Henry Carleton's little evening had been 
 enjoyed to the full by every one. And, as it chanced, 
 even the humblest actor in it was to have his share 
 of luck. Tom Satterlee, with some two thirds of 
 his journey to Mr. Sheldon's accomplished, sud- 
 denly gripped the reins more tightly as a warning 
 blast fell on his ears, and a moment later a big 
 motor whizzed past him from the rear. Instantly 
 he recognized the chauffeur, driving alone, and the 
 next moment his cheerful hail had brought the 
 motor to a halt. Then ensued a brief conference, 
 resulting in the transfer of the package, while 
 Satterlee, with a good hour saved from the schedule 
 that was to bring him back at midnight, in high 
 good humor turned old Robin's head toward home. 
 
 Meanwhile, back at The Birches, Vaughan wan- 
 dered idly along, his feet on earth, his thoughts 
 in the clouds. Rose and his book. His book and 
 Rose. From one to the other his thoughts plied 
 
 214
 
 THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING 
 
 back and forth. Not, indeed, that the book could 
 ever rival Rose, but it was as a means to win her 
 that it now appeared most precious to him, as if 
 his written word, as something outside of himself, 
 were striving, like some faithful friend, to aid him 
 in his fight and Rose and the book and his happi- 
 ness blended in his mind with all the intoxication 
 of youth and hope, and a world still untried and 
 unconquered, its problems undespaired of still. 
 
 On and on he walked, half unconscious of where 
 he was going, and then, on a sudden he seemed to 
 become aware of a light flashing somewhere ahead 
 of him through the trees, now disappearing, now, 
 as he went onward, springing again into view, 
 much as some gigantic will-o'-the-wisp might have 
 done. And at the same instant, looking around 
 him, he perceived, to his surprise, that unconsciously 
 he had been following the trail of a little rough 
 hewn path, winding first to right, and then to left, 
 but always forward, and always toward the light. 
 Partly from a real curiosity as to what it might be, 
 partly with enough of the instinct of boyhood days 
 left in him, to make him feel a perfectly irrational 
 
 215
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 delight in the sense of nocturnal adventure, he 
 skirted his way along through the woods, and a 
 moment later found himself standing on a little 
 elevation of rock, gazing through the trees at the 
 house which stood over across from him, not a 
 hundred yards away, amid the circle of birches 
 which, gleaming like silver in the faint moonlight, 
 surrounded it with their protection as with a natural 
 palisade. 
 
 Something singular there seemed to him about 
 the whole affair. The cottage he could not place; 
 and idly he began to wonder whether, intent upon 
 his day-dreams, he had wandered farther than he 
 had intended, and had crossed the boundaries of 
 The Birches to trespass on some neighboring do- 
 main. His vivid imagination had even begun to 
 weave a web of vague, elusive romance about the 
 cottage itself, based partly, perhaps, on the spell 
 of the moonlight, partly on the fact that despite 
 the lateness of the hour a light still gleamed in the 
 tipper, and one in the lower, hall. And then, with a 
 realizing rush of sober common sense, with a smile 
 at his wandering fancies, he came back to real life 
 
 216
 
 THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING 
 
 again, and had turned, though half regretfully, to 
 go, when suddenly, at the very instant, he stopped, 
 and again stood still. A dark figure had come 
 across the lawn in the rear of the house, walked up 
 to the door without reconnoitering, and disappeared 
 within. 
 
 A moment or two of silence. Then the light 
 down-stairs was extinguished, and an instant later 
 the one above was suddenly darkened, until only the 
 faintest glimmer remained. And again Vaughan, 
 though half doubtfully this time, smiled at his folly. 
 Surely this was the novelist at his worst. Striving 
 to find something unusual and strange, worthy of 
 his notice and comment, in what? In the coming 
 home of some prosaic householder, doubtless 
 tempted into a longer stay than usual at the village 
 by the charms of the good fellowship of tavern or 
 grocery store. 
 
 Suddenly his heart leaped. What was that? 
 Something mysterious was on foot, then, after all. 
 From within the house came sounds as if of a 
 struggle a crash, as of furniture overturned a 
 single half-choked, muffled cry. Then a rush and 
 
 217
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 clatter of feet on the stairs, and then, before his 
 wide-open, straining eyes, from the rear door of 
 the house a figure emerged, followed almost in- 
 stantly by another. The pursued, the taller and 
 slimmer of the two, and evidently by far the fleeter 
 of foot, ran, as one who knows his ground, straight 
 for the thickest cluster of trees, and reaching them, 
 dived into their shelter like a hare. The pursuer, 
 following for a space, all at once slackened his 
 speed, swerving and bearing aimlessly away, con- 
 stantly farther and farther to the left, in a wide 
 half circle, his body bent all the time more and more 
 to one side, his head thrown back and upward, as 
 if spent and exhausted, even with the brief effort 
 he had made. And finally, fairly doubling on his 
 tracks, he came headed straight for the rock at 
 the summit of which Vaughan stood. Nearer and 
 nearer he came, and then, quickly, as in the faint 
 moonlight the man's face became more plainly 
 visible, Vaughan drew one instant gasping breath 
 of sickened horror. The face was set, as if rigid 
 with agony, the eyes were unnaturally wide, and 
 over the upturned forehead and the pallid cheeks 
 
 218
 
 THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING 
 
 flowed something hideously dark and glistening. 
 And then, convulsively, with a ghastly semblance 
 of an athlete who finishes his race, the figure threw 
 one arm high into the air, as if grasping for sup- 
 port, staggered, pitched forward, and fell motion- 
 less, lying, in the darkness below, a huddled heap in 
 the road. 
 
 To Vaughan, all unschooled in the darker ex- 
 periences of life, came a sudden access of blind 
 terror. He knew that he should at once descend, 
 yet, knowing it, stood motionless, his will unequal 
 to the task. And then, as he sought to nerve him- 
 self for the trial, nature intervened. At once he 
 was conscious that his heart was throbbing so 
 faintly and so fast that his ear could scarcely sepa- 
 rate the beats; something tightened in his throat; 
 the silver birches floated and turned before him, 
 and he found himself nearer fainting than he had 
 ever been in his life before. Slowly, after wjiat 
 seemed to him an indefinite period of semi-con- 
 sciousness, his brain again cleared; distrustingly he 
 loosed his hold on the sapling which he had grasped, 
 and with genuine courage, sought once more to 
 
 219
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 approach the edge of the little cliff and begin his 
 descent. 
 
 Yet that descent, spite of his newly taken resolu- 
 tion, was now never to be made. At the edge he 
 gave one shuddering look below, then hastily and 
 with caution drew back, peering fixedly through the 
 screen of leaf and branch. The man, indeed, still 
 lay where he had fallen, but now, creeping down 
 the driveway, came the first figure, returning, as if 
 impelled by some impulse too powerful to resist. 
 Stealthily it approached the huddled figure on the 
 ground, looked around listening, then swiftly knelt, 
 turned the body over, and raised the head upon its 
 knee. Then came the quick spurt of a match, and 
 Vaughan, leaning forward with fascinated gaze, 
 saw more than he wished to see saw what he 
 would have given anything in the world not to have 
 seen; for the motionless figure, with head drooped 
 horribly to one side, hair matted, and face streaked 
 and dabbled with red, was that of Tom Satterlee, 
 and the face which bent over him, showing pale and 
 horror-stricken in the light of the tiny flame, was 
 the face of Jack Carleton. Vaughan turned and ran. 
 
 220
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE YELLOW STREAK 
 
 "A plague on all cowards, I say." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 FROM a slumber that was scarcely a sleep, a 
 slumber feverish and fitful, broken by restless 
 starts and uneasy twitchings, Arthur Vaughan sud- 
 denly opened his eyes, on the instant broad awake. 
 For just one blank moment, as has happened with 
 mankind so many million times before, as will hap- 
 pen so many million times again, his brain seemed to 
 hang motionless, without impression of any sort; 
 and the next minute across it the blurred and dis- 
 torted images of the night before were rushing and 
 crowding their way with a sense almost of physical 
 suffocation and terror. He had half started from 
 his bed, when at the same moment the knock on 
 the door which had first awakened him was re- 
 peated. " Come in," he called, and at the word the 
 
 221
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 door opened, and Henry Carleton's valet softly 
 entered and began to pull back the curtains. For 
 a moment Vaughan lay motionless, watching the 
 man, and wondering instinctively if he knew; then, 
 trying hard to speak in a tone casual and off-hand, 
 he greeted him. " Good morning, Rollins." 
 
 Swiftly and silently the man turned. His face, 
 to Vaughan's relief, appeared perfectly impassive. 
 " Good morning, sir," he returned respectfully. 
 " A fine morning out, sir," and then, after a hardly 
 perceptible pause Vaughan could almost feel the 
 words coming " There was bad doings last night, 
 sir." 
 
 Vaughan had risen, and was slowly crossing the 
 room toward his bath. He stopped abruptly. 
 M And what was that, Rollins ? " he asked. 
 
 The valet stepped a little nearer, speaking in a 
 hushed and somewhat awe-struck tone. " It was 
 poor Satterlee," he answered. " He's dead, sir. 
 They found him this morning, outside his house, 
 with his head all bashed in. Stone dead, sir. I 
 was there when they brought him in. It was a 
 horrid sight to see ; " and then, with real feeling, 
 
 222
 
 THE YELLOW STREAK 
 
 the man, and not the servant in him uppermost, he 
 added, " Poor Tom. He was that happy, sir." 
 
 Vaughan still stood without moving. " Dead/' 
 he repeated mechanically, "Good God!" and then, 
 " His head, you say ? Why, do they think 
 
 The man shook his head. " Nobody knows any- 
 thing, sir," he answered. " It was right near his 
 house ; right underneath .a big high rock ; he might 
 have fell off, or been pushed off; you couldn't tell. 
 Of course, sir, they've sent for the medical exam- 
 iner, direct. He should be here in an hour or two, 
 I should judge, sir, at the most." 
 
 " Yes, yes," Vaughan assented. " I under- 
 stand ; " then at once added, " and what does Mr. 
 Carleton say? " 
 
 " Oh, he feels terribly, sir," the valet answered, 
 " I never saw him so broke up in my life. * Poor 
 Satterlee,' he kept saying, ' I feel as if I was to 
 blame. I shouldn't have asked him to go that far, 
 so late. It was after hours. I should have 
 waited.' " 
 
 Vaughan nodded. " Yes, that's like Mr. Carle- 
 ton," he said. " But of course it wasn't any of his 
 
 223
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 fault, just the same. He couldn't have looked 
 ahead to anything like that." 
 
 " No, indeed, sir," the man answered heartily, 
 " of course he couldn't. But as you say, sir, it's 
 like him. He's always very considerate with all of 
 us. Oh, he certainly took on terrible; he was as 
 white as a sheet when they brought poor Tom in." 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Vaughan absently, " I don't 
 doubt; " then quickly, " and how about Mr. Jack? " 
 
 " Why, he was in a bad way, too, sir," an- 
 swered Rollins, " but different like, more quiet, as 
 if he had his wits more about him." 
 
 In spite of himself, at the words Vaughan 
 started, and then, " What about the horse ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " That was curious, sir," the man replied, " the 
 horse was in, unharnessed and in his stall; seems 
 as if Tom must have got back early, after all. But 
 no one knows how." 
 
 As he spoke, in the hall outside a bell rang sharply 
 and at once he turned to answer it, then paused. 
 " That's Mr. Carleton, sir," he said, and then with 
 a quick return to his usual manner, " Is there any- 
 
 224
 
 THE YELLOW STREAK 
 
 thing further you might wish, sir?" and on 
 Vaughan's half -mechanical answer in the negative, 
 he hastily left the room. 
 
 It was on a disturbed and disordered household 
 that Vaughan half an hour later descended. Rose 
 alone came to meet him as he reached the foot of 
 the stairs, and in silence led the way into the 
 deserted breakfast room. 
 
 " You won't find very much to eat, Arthur, I'm 
 afraid," she said. " You mustn't mind. Every- 
 thing's so terribly upset." 
 
 He bent and kissed her, pitying her white face 
 and trembling hands. " My dear girl," he said 
 tenderly, " don't worry about me. Breakfast 
 doesn't count at a time like this. Where has every- 
 body gone ? " 
 
 The girl, pouring out his coffee, helplessly shook 
 her head. " Oh, I don't know," she answered. 
 " It's ajl been so confused. My father's gone down 
 to see Mrs. Satterlee, I believe, and Mr. Cummings 
 is outside somewhere, too. He seemed to feel it 
 as much as any one. He really looked very badly, 
 and hardly touched his breakfast at all. And
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 Cousin Jack I don't know where he's gone. I 
 suppose he minded more than anybody; he was 
 always around so much with Tom in the old days 
 out here. He acted so queerly, too; and looked 
 at everybody so oh, I don't know how to describe 
 it stern and fierce, as if somehow he thought we 
 all had something to do with Tom's being killed. 
 And all the time father kept saying things, like that 
 in the midst of life we were in death, and that no 
 man could tell the hour oh, it was all ghastly. It 
 was awful." 
 
 Vaughan, nibbling gingerly at the cold toast, 
 and struggling to swallow the luke-warm coffee, 
 nodded understandingly. Every instinct, every bit 
 of good sense that he possessed, told him to drop 
 the subject, and still, for the life of him he could 
 not check the words that rose to his lips. " Did you 
 did you see him ? " he asked. 
 
 The girl shuddered. " Not close to," she an- 
 swered, " only when they brought him by the house. 
 I didn't know I looked once. I wish I hadn't. 
 Oh, his face " 
 
 Abruptly, a little dizzily, Vaughan rose from the 
 226
 
 THE YELLOW STREAK 
 
 table, last night's ugly vision again seeming to 
 pass before his swimming eyes. On the instant the 
 girl, all penitence, rose also, coming swiftly around 
 to his side. " Forgive me, dear," she cried, " I 
 didn't mean to shock you. I should have thought. 
 Excuse me, please." 
 
 He hastened to take her hand. " No, no," he 
 cried, " there's nothing to forgive. It's not your 
 fault. Let's get outside in the air. It's close in 
 here. I feel a little faint." 
 
 A moment later they stood on the broad piazza, 
 in all the glory of the warm June sunshine. Up 
 in the top of a swaying elm an oriole flooded the air 
 with song; out over the lawn, against the green of 
 the shrubbery, a big golden butterfly floated softly 
 along; in and out of the vines above their heads 
 a tiny humming-bird a living gem darted here 
 and there, his crimson throat flashing like flame in 
 the sunlight then quick as thought with a whir of 
 his swiftly moving wings, was gone. Life life 
 life in every tone and call of nature's voice, 
 and out there, in the hushed quiet of the stable, a 
 man lay dead. 
 
 227
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 Vaughan rested a hand on the girl's arm. 
 " Look," he whispered, " down by the road." 
 
 The girl raised her eyes. There, dimly to be 
 seen through the screen of the shrubbery, up and 
 down, up and down, a figure paced, with eyes fixed 
 on the ground, with one hand tugging fiercely at 
 his mustache, to and fro to and fro. " Cousin 
 Jack," she said. 
 
 Silently Vaughan nodded. Well enough, from 
 the uncertain tumult going on in his own mind, he 
 could guess the bitter struggle that was being waged 
 in Carleton's. In an hour the medical examiner 
 would come; all would in turn be examined on 
 oath. Henry Carleton, doubtless, would be the 
 first called upon to testify; then Jack; then, he sup- 
 posed, Cummings and himself. And what should 
 he do? The truth, the whole truth, and nothing 
 but the truth the words seemed aimlessly to sing 
 themselves over and over in his brain. And then, 
 with a shake of his head, he roused himself. One 
 thing was plain. Before the examiner came, there 
 must be some plan of concerted action between Jack 
 Carleton and himself some knowledge of what 
 
 228
 
 THE YELLOW STREAK 
 
 each was going to say when called on to face that 
 grim ordeal. And it might be that there was little 
 time to spare. He turned quickly to Rose. " I'm 
 going to speak to him," he said. 
 
 She made a protesting movement. " Oh, must 
 you?" she cried, "I so hate to be left alone, just 
 now," but for once her lover was firm. " I must, 
 dear," he said, " I won't be long. You stay right 
 here, and don't worry or think about it at all. I've 
 got to see him for a minute, anyway; I won't be 
 long," and as she released her detaining hold on his 
 arm, he walked swiftly down the steps and across 
 the lawn. 
 
 On the velvet of the yielding turf his footsteps 
 made no sound, his figure cast no shadow, and it 
 was not until he was almost upon Carleton that the 
 latter glanced up. Deep in thought he must have 
 been, for to Vaughan it seemed that it was for a 
 full half minute, at the least, that Carleton con- 
 tinued to gaze, hardly at him, but rather beyond, 
 as if for all that time he was unable to call his 
 thoughts back to the present. And even when he 
 had done so, his greeting sounded scarcely cordial, 
 
 229
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 as if he would greatly have preferred being left 
 alone without interruption of any kind, however 
 well intended. 
 
 " Hello, Arthur," he said, " you've heard about it, 
 I suppose." ^ 
 
 Vaughan nodded. " Yes, I've just heard." For 
 a moment he faltered, uncertain how to proceed; 
 then, lamely enough, he added, " How was he killed, 
 Jack?" 
 
 Carleton looked at him strangely; and, almost 
 roughly, he answered, " Killed ? How should he 
 have been killed? Fell off that rock, of course." 
 He paused for a moment in his turn; then, with a 
 singular distortion of the muscles of his mouth that 
 gave to his expression a look almost ghastly, he 
 added, with a kind of savage emphasis, " He took 
 one drink too many, I suppose; poor devil; it's an 
 ugly rock." 
 
 Tone and words alike sounded utterly foreign to 
 him. He stood staring at Vaughan, as he spoke, 
 but still as if he scarcely saw or heeded him, as if 
 he strove to map out for himself a path in the 
 tangled net of circumstance which threatened him. 
 
 230
 
 THE YELLOW STREAK 
 
 Vaughan, regarding him, drew a long breath, and 
 grasped his courage in both his hands. " Look 
 here, Jack," he said, forcing the words with effort, 
 " Mr. Carleton and I were on the piazza last night 
 about half past ten. I told him I was going to 
 turn in, and he said he was going to do the same 
 after he'd taken a little walk around the place. I 
 started for bed, and then I changed my mind. I 
 went for a walk too." 
 
 At once Carleton seemed to catch an unusual 
 meaning in the other's tone, and yet for a moment 
 the real import of the words did not dawn on his 
 brain. Then suddenly he started, half drawing 
 away. "You went for a walk?" he echoed, and 
 then, apparently throwing aside all caution, " What 
 do you mean, Arthur?" he cried, "What do you 
 mean? " 
 
 Vaughan, hesitating still, dreading the effect his 
 words might have, almost regretting that he had 
 spoken at all, looked his friend squarely in the face. 
 " I saw it all, Jack," he said. 
 
 Carleton's look was one of utter amazement. 
 For an instant he stood silent, staring at Vaughan 
 
 231
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 as if doubtful of his senses. Then, " You saw him 
 run out of the house ? " he cried. 
 
 Vaughan nodded. " I saw it all," he repeated, 
 " and afterward, by the rock " 
 
 But to everything beyond his mere assent 
 Carleton seemed to pay scant heed. He stared at 
 Vaughan still, but now with a strange mingling of 
 emotions showing in his face. And curiously 
 enough, there seemed to predominate, above all the 
 rest, a look almost of savage relief. 
 
 " That clenches it, then," he cried. " That settles 
 the whole thing," and, swift as thought, the next 
 moment the expression faded. " No, no, Arthur," 
 he cried, with the most intense earnestness, " we 
 can't; don't you see we can't? See what would 
 happen. There'd be the devil and all to pay. Rose 
 might not marry you, even. ,You know how 
 proud she is. It isn't a question of what I ought 
 to do myself, Arthur. It's a question of the family 
 honor. It mustn't be known; it shan't. We'll tell 
 the same story. No one else knows, man. No one 
 that would tell. It's the only way. Give me your 
 word, Arthur; give me your word." 
 
 232
 
 THE YELLOW STREAK 
 
 In silence Vaughan stood and looked at him. 
 These were the same temptations that had beset 
 him the long night through; against which his in- 
 stinctive feeling of justice had struggled well-nigh 
 in vain. And yet, while gropingly and half-uncon- 
 sciously he had felt that for him there might be 
 some excuse, somehow now, the frank cowardice of 
 the plea, coming from the man himself, jarred 
 strangely upon him. And yet - : was it cowardice? 
 Was there not more than a grain of truth in all that 
 Carleton had said? Would it not, after all, be for 
 the best? For there, on the other hand, lay the 
 scandal to be faced; the notoriety of it all, scarcely 
 endurable; the hordes of prying reporters; the vul- 
 gar crowd of eager seekers after mystery who 
 would make of Eversley a very Mecca from all 
 this he shrank, as he could see that Carleton shrank, 
 and yet, in spite of all, from the other alternative he 
 shrank as well. 
 
 " What do you want me to say ? " he asked, and 
 his tone was grudging; his eyes this time did not 
 seek Jack's face. 
 
 Carleton drew a sigh of evident relief. " Say? '" 
 233
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 lie echoed eagerly. " What should you want to say ? 
 You were abed and asleep the whole time. You 
 went straight up-stairs and slept soundly all night. 
 That's simple enough, isn't it? Of course Henry'll 
 swear that you told him that's what you were going 
 to do. Swear to it, and stick to it. That's all." 
 
 Slowly Vaughan nodded. " And you the 
 same? " he asked. 
 
 "Of course," Carleton answered eagerly, and at 
 his manner Vaughan found himself all at once mar- 
 veling. Whatever else of emotion he might feel 
 in the medley of sensations which swept over him, 
 above everything else he was conscious of a sting- 
 ing disappointment, an open shame, for this man 
 his friend. He turned away, his voice as he 
 answered, sounding dully in his own ears. " All 
 right," he said. Then suddenly a new difficulty 
 struck him with stunning force. " But what's .the 
 use, Jack? " he cried, " Mrs. Satterlee " 
 
 Carleton took one quick step forward. " Every- 
 thing's the use," he said, almost menacingly. " Do 
 as I tell you, for God's sake! Don't worry about 
 Ihe woman. Her testimony will be the same as
 
 THE YELLOW STREAK 
 
 ours. Nobody knows anything. Can't you see? 
 Or don't you know what sort of woman 
 
 Across the lawn Rose Carleton's voice sounded, 
 vibrant with anxiety. " Arthur, Cousin Jack," she 
 called, " you're wanted at once. The medical ex- 
 aminer is here." 
 
 The Columbian reporter, jotting down a note 
 or two, rose from his seat at the examiner's desk. 
 " I'm very much obliged, sir," he said. " That 
 clears that matter up. You've told me exactly what 
 I wanted to know. And on this last case that came 
 in to-day, the coachman out at the Carleton place, 
 you say there won't be anything doing? " 
 
 The medical examiner shook his head in decided 
 negative. " The coroner's verdict," he answered, 
 " not of course speaking officially, or for quotation 
 in any way, will be one of accidental death. Of that 
 I am morally certain. There wasn't a shred of evi- 
 dence to prove anything different. Or, one chance 
 in ten, perhaps, at the most, it might be ' death at 
 the hands of persons unknown/ ' 
 
 The reporter sighed. " It's too bad, though, 
 
 235
 
 THE CARLETON CASE ' 
 
 isn't it?" he rejoined. "All the elements of a 
 great story there somewhere " he paused a mo- 
 ment; then added thoughtfully, "I'm not jollying, 
 you know; I really am awfully disappointed. Be- 
 cause it's a queer thing if there was any evi- 
 dence for a starter, I could furnish some mighty 
 interesting information in a certain direction. Do 
 you know anything about the wife of this man that 
 was killed, this Mrs. Satterlee ? " 
 
 The examiner shook his head. " Nothing," he 
 answered, " excepting that I couldn't help but no- 
 tice that she was a remarkably beautiful woman. 
 Entirely out of her class as the wife of a coachman, 
 I should have said." 
 
 " Exactly," the reporter exclaimed. " Well, now, 
 listen to this. If anybody wanted to hear some 
 mighty funny evidence concerning this woman, and 
 concerning one of the men who was at the Carleton 
 place the night this happened not gossip, you 
 know, but something that I actually know about, 
 saw with my own eyes if anybody wanted to get 
 hold of that, why, I rather think " 
 
 The examiner raised a restraining hand. " Well, 
 236
 
 THE YELLOW STREAK 
 
 don't think," he said curtly. " You ought to know 
 enough about the laws of evidence to stop you from 
 figuring that two and two make five. And, any- 
 way, don't think too hard. It's an awful strain on 
 a man. Your business, as I understand it, as a 
 reporter on the Columbian, is to report facts, and 
 not to come any of these gum-shoe sleuth tricks." 
 
 The reporter smiled, wrinkling his forehead 
 whimsically. " Your ideas of facts and mine," he 
 rejoined, " might not tally, exactly, but in the main, 
 yes, I guess you're right." He rose to take his 
 leave. " And still," he said again, " I can't help 
 wishing there was just a little evidence to go to 
 the district attorney's office. If there should be, 
 now " 
 
 " Well, there won't," snapped the examiner, 
 "you needn't worry. I tell you the case ends 
 here." 
 
 The reporter raised his eyebrows, at the same 
 time making a deprecating gesture with arms and 
 shoulders. " Oh, all right, all right," he said 
 soothingly. " Just as you say." He held the door 
 fully open now. " Oh, and look," he added, 
 
 237
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 '" which Cummings was it that was spending the 
 night out there? The railroad man, or Jim? " 
 
 The examiner did not look up from his writing. 
 " Jim," he answered shortly. 
 
 The reporter half closed the door again. " Say," 
 he observed engagingly, " now that's another mighty 
 funny thing " 
 
 The medical examiner wheeled suddenly on him. 
 " Oh, come, come," he said, " get out. You make 
 me tired. You know too much altogether. There's 
 one thing you don't know, though. That I'm busy 
 sometimes even too busy to listen to you and 
 your ' funny things,' as you call them. Now, get 
 out." 
 
 The reporter was on the farther side of the 
 threshold now. He paused for one parting shot. 
 " I'll bet you a dollar," he said, " that things don't 
 stop here for good. I'll bet you a dollar I'll bet 
 you five that some day we hear of this case 
 again." 
 
 There was no response. He waited a moment in 
 silence. And then the door at last closed behind 
 him. 
 
 238
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 VAUGHAN DOUBTS 
 
 " Truth is the highest thing that man may keep." 
 
 Chaucer. 
 
 ONCE again the household at The Birches had 
 settled down into its wonted routine of daily 
 life. Yet with a difference, too, for over the 
 whole place the shadow of the tragedy still 
 hung. Henry Carleton, deeply affected at the loss 
 of a faithful and valued servant, showed his sor- 
 row by making no attempt to replace him, letting 
 the motor lie idle, and promoting Saunders, the for- 
 mer groom, to the coachman's vacant post. Mrs. 
 Satterlee herself, very pretty and very sad in deep- 
 est black, continued to live alone at the cottage, 
 going out but seldom and seemingly well-nigh in- 
 consolable in her grief. Just once, Rose Carleton. 
 feeling vaguely repulsed in the visit or two she had 
 made to her one time nurse, had gone to her 
 
 239
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 father's study to question him in regard to the 
 widow's position. " Is it quite proper, father," she 
 had asked, " for her to live there now, all alone ? 
 Don't you think people may begin to talk ill- 
 naturedly about her ? " 
 
 Henry Carleton had sat thoughtfully for a time 
 before he had made answer, and then, " Poor 
 woman," he said, with deep feeling, " this has been 
 a heavy blow for her. And but such a short time 
 married, too. Really, I hardly know what to say, 
 and yet, for the present, at least, I think I should 
 allow her to remain. To me it would seem heart- 
 less to do otherwise. Too much as if, just because 
 poor Satterlee were of no further use to me, I was 
 anxious to cast off his widow also. I understand 
 your feeling in the matter, Rose, and I appreciate 
 the kindness you have shown in speaking of it, but 
 in time of sorrow and affliction, the breath of scan- 
 dal seems but a secondary consideration. Duty 
 first, my child, come what may," and Rose, 
 ashamed of her prudishness, had risen and kissed 
 him. 
 
 " You're right, father," she cried hastily, " as 
 240
 
 VAUGHAN DOUBTS 
 
 you always are. If there's anything I can do to 
 make things easier for her, you've only to tell me." 
 Henry Carleton, with a little smile, had thanked 
 her, and the incident had been closed. 
 
 Across Jack Carleton's path the shadow of Sat- 
 terlee's tragic death seemed to lie dark and unfor- 
 getable. For a day or two, indeed, morose and 
 grave, he continued to make The Birches his home ; 
 then, suddenly, he took his departure, going back to 
 his in-town lodgings, and The Birches knew him no 
 more. 
 
 But of all the changes caused by the doings of the 
 night, the most marked had taken place in Arthur 
 Vaughan. With him, indeed, all else apart, things 
 had been going badly enough to warrant discour- 
 agement. First of all, after a week or two of in- 
 dulgence in ever strengthening hope, coming home 
 one hot and breathless evening to his lodging house, 
 lie had found an envelope with Small and White's 
 name in the corner awaiting him on the table in the 
 halL With it there appeared no bulky parcel of 
 type-written sheets, and on the instant his heart 
 beat rapidly at twice its usual speed. Could it be 
 
 241
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 at last the turning point in the long, straight path 
 of disappointments? Somehow he could not bring 
 himself to open the letter there, and in spite of 
 weariness, of the almost overpowering heat of the 
 day, he ran up the three flights of stairs, never 
 stopping until he had reached the shelter of his own 
 bare and simply furnished room. 
 
 Even then he still hesitated, scarcely even bring- 
 ing himself to glance at the missive that burned 
 in his hand. Once more he looked about him, at 
 the familiar, friendly old arm-chair, at the bat- 
 tered desk in the window, with the manuscript 
 sheets of his new story scattered over its surface, 
 then out at the restful green of the big elm tree 
 whose spreading branches almost touched his win- 
 dow, screening the whole room with their welcome 
 shade. All of these he had come to know and hail 
 as friends, and natural enough it seemed to him that 
 now in the hour of his joy he should wish to take 
 them into his confidence, and to bid them rejoice 
 with him at last. With a final look from the win- 
 dow down into the quiet, deserted street below, he 
 resolutely tore open the letter, and ran his eye over 
 
 242
 
 VAUGHAN DOUBTS 
 
 the first line or two of its contents then, with a 
 sharp intake of breath he raised his eyes, and stood 
 silent and motionless, his face suddenly white, as 
 though he had received some mortal blow. It was 
 over, then. The first three lines were enough. He 
 knew that stereotyped form so well. " We are re- 
 turning to you to-day " that was sufficient he 
 could have gone on and completed the letter, with 
 scarcely the miscalling of a single word. Yet pres- 
 ently, with a self -contemptuous smile, he took up 
 the letter again, and read it, slowly and deliberately, 
 as a man might run a sword inch by inch into his 
 body, stopping now and again to give it a little 
 extra twist or turn stoically to watch himself 
 twinge and wince with the pain, eyes closing, mouth 
 contorted. 
 
 And anguish of soul, indeed, every whit as bitter 
 Arthur Vaughan now knew. Hardly had he real- 
 ized, after his friendly chat with Henry Carleton, 
 and the words of encouragement he had received 
 from that practised man of affairs, how thoroughly 
 he had discounted the future. Down in the bot- 
 tom of his heart he knew now that for a fortnight 
 
 243
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 he had really cherished the belief that all would 
 at last come right, that the book would be taken, 
 that his name would be made, that his marriage 
 with Rose would be but a question of a longer or 
 shorter time; and now, hopes dashed, he was back 
 again where he had started ; nay, worse off, indeed, 
 for another possible chance was lost to him, another 
 publisher had set the seal of disapproval on his 
 work oh, it was all too bitter! 
 
 Mechanically he read and re-read the letter. All 
 were there all the little catch words, the honeyed 
 phrases which said one thing, yet were made to say 
 it so smoothly and courteously that at the end he 
 half doubted that after all, his work had been re- 
 fused; all were there. "We are returning" 
 yes, that seemed enough, almost, but still they had 
 to go on, " manuscript you have been so kind as 
 to submit," oh, of course, it had been such a 
 kindness on his part, " reading it has occasioned 
 us much pleasure," pleasure! Of what sort, 
 Vaughan wondered; "it has many obvious merits," 
 why didn't they take it, then ? " and some 
 equally obvious defects." Ah, yes, the defects; 
 
 244
 
 VAUGHAN DOUBTS 
 
 that was it, of course, the defects; that phrase, he 
 felt, at least was sincere. " Only after careful de- 
 liberation at last unwillingly compelled to come 
 to the conclusion present state of the public taste 
 certain practical considerations inevitably to be 
 considered on the whole again thanking 
 you " More and more hastily, as he neared the 
 end, Vaughan read, almost with a feeling of physi- 
 cal disgust. Then he tossed the letter on his desk, 
 and stood, with folded arms, looking out once more 
 into the silent street, where the shadows were be- 
 ginning to fall deeper and deeper, merging gradu- 
 ally into the dusk of twilight. At last he spoke. 
 "I wouldn't care," he said, "if it was bad work; 
 if it was work that I'd slighted; if it was work I'd 
 done in a hurry, letting a word and a phrase go 
 when I knew that somewhere, if I hunted long 
 enough, I could find the one that really fitted. But 
 it isn't like that. I can't reproach myself. It's 
 been three years of the best I've got in me. Every- 
 thing in the world I know of style, every bit of 
 incident I wanted, every turn and twist of charac- 
 ter. It isn't vanity; it isn't conceit; I don't care 
 
 245
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 who wrote the book; it's good, and I know it's 
 good; and yet to have them, one after the other " 
 Practical, prosaic, monotonous, boomed the sup- 
 per gong. With a sorry laugh Vaughan turned 
 from the window, and then paused, irresolute. 
 Must he go down again, as he had done so many 
 times before; to compare himself, as he knew that 
 in his present mood he so inevitably must, to his 
 fellow lodgers around the well-worn board. The 
 clerk in the down-town bank, the dapper young 
 shoe salesman, the would-be humorist who made no 
 secret of the fact that he was " pulling down " 
 fifty a week out of his " knock 'em silly " insect 
 powder, the old graybeard who tottered away each 
 morning to haunt the reading-room of the public 
 library, staying there the livelong day until he tot- 
 tered home again at night look at it as he would, 
 one fact remained: these men, all of them, how- 
 ever much he might see in them to criticize, were, 
 each in his way, successful men. Each, in his 
 turn, to do them full justice, had stepped up at the 
 sound of the bell, had wrestled his fall with the 
 practical world, and had come out on top. And 
 
 246
 
 VAUGHAN DOUBTS 
 
 he, as the world judges success, had failed and 
 failed, and now had failed once more. A money 
 getter, it seemed, he would never be. Never be- 
 fore had his inability to make and lay away the 
 dollars struck him with such tantalizing force. 
 What good was he in the world, he asked himself, 
 and with a sudden envy for every plain, practical, 
 plodding man who was doing his daily round in the 
 treadmill for his appointed wage, he felt himself 
 to be an idle dreamer, absolutely unfitted for bat- 
 tle with the sane and commonplace world in which 
 he lived; and with a savage fluency of bitter self 
 disgust of which he was for ever after ashamed, he 
 cursed himself, and his art, tore the letter venge fully 
 into little pieces, slammed the door behind him, and 
 went grimly down to his waiting supper. 
 
 It was ten o'clock the next morning, when, no 
 whit less discouraged and sick at heart, he con- 
 trived to gain an audience with Henry Carleton. 
 Even the great man's unfailing affability, this morn- 
 ing, it seemed, even kindlier and more pronounced 
 than ever, for once failed to awaken in Vaughan's 
 downcast face any semblance of an answering 
 
 247
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 gleam. " Bad news, Mr. Carleton," he said, 
 briefly, " it's been rejected again." 
 
 Carleton's face clouded with ready sympathy. 
 
 " Why, my dear boy," he cried, " I am sorry in- 
 deed. That is a shame. I had trusted so much 
 that this time you would be successful. Indeed, I 
 had almost in a way begun to feel as if your success 
 were mine. I can't begin to tell you how sorry 
 I am." 
 
 Gloomily Vaughan nodded assent. " It does 
 make things bad," he said. " I hoped so much. 
 And now I'm as far from Rose as ever." 
 
 Carleton cleared his throat. " My dear 
 Vaughan," he said, " since you've chanced to men- 
 tion the subject, I believe I ought to tell you that 
 I've been thinking a great deal of late as is only 
 natural about the position you and Rose are in. 
 You know, of course, that I desire only her happi- 
 ness, and yours, too. You know that. You be- 
 lieve that, I'm confident. Do you not, my boy? " 
 
 Vaughan, although not altogether without a 
 vague feeling of uneasiness, hastened to assent to 
 
 248
 
 VAUGHAN DOUBTS 
 
 this self-evident proposition, and Carleton at once 
 went on. 
 
 " Now then, my only feeling in the whole matter 
 is this. You're neither of you really happy now; 
 not in the least. Long engagements, as a rule, 
 never are provocative of much happiness. And 
 of course, as we've said before, you wouldn't want 
 to get married, and have me support you. No, 
 no, I'm sure you wouldn't wish that; no, of course 
 you wouldn't " he spoke a little hastily, him- 
 self answering the question he had appeared to ask 
 " and so," he continued, " I have been wondering, 
 wouldn't it be better fairer, perhaps, to Rose 
 not to see her so much for a while. She's very 
 young, you know. And if it gets to be understood 
 that you two are practically engaged, she's cut off 
 from a great deal of pleasure which a young girl at 
 her age ought rightfully to enjoy. So why won't it 
 be best for you to go back in earnest to your 
 work try as you've never tried before and I 
 know that ultimately you'll succeed. I envy you 
 your ability, Arthur; I envy you your choice of a 
 
 249
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 profession; and I know that success is only a mat- 
 ter of time only a matter of time " he re- 
 peated a little dreamily. " But you can't do it and 
 have all this strain of a long love affair at the same 
 time. I know how that distracts one; it would 
 scarcely be worthy the name of love if it were 
 otherwise. I remember " 
 
 He sat silent for a moment, as if lost in the con- 
 templation of the past; and then suddenly coming 
 to the present again, continued, in a far brisker 
 and more practical tone, " And so, about Rose 
 remember, I'm not attempting to dictate, I'm not 
 urging it, even; I'm only suggesting to your own 
 sense of what is fairest and in the end best for 
 both of you, how it would be if perhaps you didn't 
 see her for a time. How does it seem to you, 
 Arthur? I want you to be perfectly frank with 
 me, of course, just as I have been with you." 
 
 To some men, possessing the defects of their vir- 
 tues, any appeal to their spirit of fairness trans- 
 forms their strongest into their weakest side. 
 Vaughan nodded miserably. " Perhaps," he said, 
 a little faintly, "you're right. I hadn't thought of 
 
 250
 
 VAUGHAN DOUBTS 
 
 it in just that way before. But I want to do what's 
 best for Rose, of course. And I'll own up that 
 having the book rejected this last time has taken 
 all the confidence out of me. Perhaps you're 
 right. Perhaps I'm not being fair to her." 
 
 " I'm very glad," Carleton said cordially, " that 
 you take such a sensible view of it. It isn't the 
 easiest thing for a man in your position to do; I 
 appreciate that. And of course we have one other 
 thing to consider. It's hardly probable that Rose 
 is going to take the same view of all this that we 
 do at least, not with any great enthusiasm. 
 She's very fond of you, Vaughan, as is only right 
 and natural. But all women in the world, where 
 their lovers are concerned, are hopelessly and by 
 nature entirely selfish and jealous, to a degree, of 
 anything that keeps the man in the case away from 
 them, jealous even of so worthy a thing as a man's 
 life work; and a man's life work, after all, as you 
 must realize now as perhaps never before, is a ter- 
 ribly important thing. So you will have to do your 
 best to try to make her see the common-sense side 
 of all this. And that you'll do, I'm sure." 
 
 251
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 To Vaughan it appeared as if he found himself 
 suddenly involved, really against his will; arrayed 
 on the same side with Henry Carleton to fight the 
 battle of stern common sense, without having any 
 very clear idea of how he had happened to get 
 there. " Do you mean," he asked, " that you think 
 I ought not to see her at all? " 
 
 Henry Carleton's success had been too great t& 
 permit of the slightest risk of endangering it. 
 " Oh, by no means," he made haste to answer. 
 " Run out and see her whenever you feel like it 
 say once a month or so. But to come as an ordi- 
 nary friend, and not as an accepted suitor, I think 
 perhaps would be the wiser way. That commends 
 itself to you also, I have no doubt." 
 
 Vaughari's expression was that of a man to 
 whom nothing now mattered. " Oh, yes," he an- 
 swered wearily, " that commends itself to me. That 
 strikes me as very sensible indeed." 
 
 The complete discouragement in his tone caused 
 Carleton to eye him keenly. " One other thing," 
 he said, hastening to shift the topic with unusual 
 abruptness, "about the book. I don't want you 
 
 252
 
 VAUGHAN DOUBTS 
 
 to feel in the least cast down. We'll find a pub- 
 lisher yet ; I'm confident of it. And this next 
 time, let's start fair and square. Give me the man- 
 uscript, and let me try negotiations in my own 
 way. I think I may almost promise that you'll not 
 find yourself disappointed." 
 
 The expression on Vaughan's face did not seem 
 to indicate that he by any means shared Carleton's 
 confidence. " We can't do worse," he said, perhaps 
 a little ungraciously. "If you think there's any 
 good in going ahead, why, all right. My confi- 
 dence is gone. I'll send the great work over to you 
 to-morrow; and you can send it off on its travels 
 again, or burn it. I don't know which would be 
 the more sensible of the two." 
 
 Henry Carleton shook his head reprovingly. 
 " Oh, come now," he protested, " don't insult your- 
 self that way. We'll show them yet." He ex- 
 tended a benevolent hand as he spoke. Some one 
 had once described Carleton's method of getting 
 rid of his callers as imperceptible, but inevitable. 
 " And run out and see Rose soon," he added 
 kindly, " have a good long talk with her, and fully 
 
 253
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 explain your side of the case. She won't fail to 
 grasp it, I'm sure. She's nobody's fool, if her 
 own father does say so." 
 
 Somehow Vaughan found himself outside the 
 office, outside the building itself, walking along the 
 street in a kind of maze, before his ordinary powers 
 of intellect again asserted themselves. Curiously 
 enough, for one who had agreed so readily and so 
 entirely with everything that Henry Carleton had 
 proposed, he now appeared to be actuated by a cer- 
 tain feeling of resentment against that worthiest of 
 men. " Confound him," he muttered disrespect- 
 fully. " How on earth does he manage it ? He 
 can turn me around like a weathercock. I never 
 make such a fool of myself as I do when I talk with 
 him. I never saw such a man. I can think of 
 twenty things now that I might have said, but when 
 I needed them, I'll be hanged if I could lay a finger 
 on one. And if I had, I don't doubt but what the 
 next minute he'd have shown me where I was 
 wrong. He's always right. That's the puzzle 
 about him. He's so fair and just about things; 
 you can't dispute him; and yet, for all it seems 
 
 254
 
 VAUGHAN DOUBTS 
 
 like such an idiotic thing to say, he's right, and 
 you know all the time he's wrong. Confound the 
 man. He's one too many for me." 
 
 His talk with Rose came an evening or so later 
 on the broad piazza, at The Birches. For half an 
 hour Vaughan had sought vainly to bring him- 
 self to make a beginning, with his attention in the 
 meantime miserably distracted from all that Rose 
 Carleton had to say, finding it indeed hard to as- 
 sent with any great degree of pleasure to plans for 
 a future which he now felt was for ever barred to 
 him. So noticeable and so unlike himself did his 
 inattention finally become that the girl stopped 
 short in something she was saying to turn his face 
 toward hers, scrutinizing it as though she sought to 
 read the trouble there. " What's gone wrong, Ar- 
 thur ? " she asked, " nothing that I've done to dis- 
 please you? " 
 
 Vaughan's answer to the latter part of the ques- 
 tion was not made in words. And then, as he 
 again raised his head, at last he made his explana- 
 tion. " It's this, dear," he said. " I happened to go 
 
 255
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 in to see your father the other day about the book 
 to bother him with more bad news and he 
 began to talk, apropos of that, about ourselves. 
 He was very pleasant very fair I must ac- 
 knowledge that but he thinks that for a man 
 with no more prospects than I have, that I have 
 no right to hold you to anything like an en- 
 gagement ; that it isn't fair to you ; and all that. I 
 suppose, though he was too polite to put it in just 
 that way, the implication would be that I ought 
 never to have spoken to you at all. And so I 
 didn't see, for the life of me, just what there was 
 for me to say. He asked me if I didn't agree with 
 him it was an awkward question, sort of a 
 'you'll be damned if you don't; you'll be damned 
 if you do' sort of affair-^ and between being a 
 fool or appearing to be a knave, I chose the role 
 that seems to come so easily to me always; I chose 
 to be the fool, and stammered out that I supposed 
 I did. And now I don't know what to do; in a 
 way I've given him my word not to visit you as if 
 we were engaged; in a way it seems as if he were 
 
 256
 
 VAUGHAN DOUBTS 
 
 right, too; and yet " the unfinished sentence was 
 eloquent of all his doubt and misery. 
 
 He might have been prepared for almost any an- 
 swer other than the girl's laugh of real amusement. 
 And on the instant, wrought up and perplexed as 
 he was, the surprise of it made him draw himself 
 up with offended dignity. Reading his mood with 
 all a woman's skill, the girl drew closer to him, and 
 raised her face to his. " Kiss me," she cried im- 
 periously, and when, with a rather ill-grace, he had 
 complied, " There," she said, " that's better ; don't 
 imagine you can get rid of me as easily as you 
 think. 'My affections aren't to be trifled with like 
 that, I'll have you know." 
 
 Half vexed still, yet with a feeling of immense 
 relief, he gazed at her with a certain pathos of in- 
 decision. " Then you don't think " he began. 
 
 She broke in upon him. " My dear," she said, 
 "I'm going to lecture you. I might tell you, of 
 course, if I wanted to, that you were perfection, 
 possessing no faults whatever; but it wouldn't be 
 true. You've got them, just as everybody else in 
 
 257
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 the world has. And your greatest fault of all is 
 lack of confidence in yourself. You're too willing 
 to take everybody else's opinion in place of your 
 own. That's what you've done now. And on the 
 other hand, my father, who's one of the best men 
 that ever lived, I believe every daughter has that 
 privilege of belief about her father my father 
 isn't without his faults, either. And his besetting 
 one is to think that because he's made a success of 
 so many things, that that gives him a sort of divine 
 right to run everybody else's affairs for them, too. 
 In just one word, speaking of course with the 
 greatest respect, he's a good deal of an autocrat. 
 And so, when I laughed just now, it was because I 
 was thinking, when it came to an argument, what 
 possible chance you, with your modesty, could have 
 had against him, with all his certainty of being 
 right. And the funny thing the thing neither 
 of you seemed to think of " she added auda- 
 ciously, " is that I've got very distinct ideas of my 
 own on most subjects, and especially about the 
 merits of the man I'm going to marry. Oh, Ar- 
 thur, please now it's all rumpled well, any- 
 
 258
 
 VAUGHAN DOUBTS 
 
 thing's better than having you with that * farewell- 
 for-ever ' look on your face. So, you see, I refuse 
 to release you; with the greatest respect, as I say, 
 for my father's judgment on almost every other 
 subject under the sun." 
 
 Vaughan, as he properly should have been, ap- 
 peared vastly cheered. He drew a long breath; 
 then as quickly again looked troubled. " But about 
 coming out here," he objected. " I don't want to be 
 a sneak. And I've agreed not to come ; only once 
 a month, that is, and I believe," he added a little 
 ruefully, " I undertook the contract of persuading 
 you to assent to the change of program. So now 
 there are new difficulties. If I report your in- 
 subordination, not to say rebellion, to your father, 
 there'll be trouble all around, and if I lie about it, 
 and report entire success, your father will be de- 
 lighted, but he'll be the only one. You're so clever, 
 I guess I'll have to leave things to you. You're 
 bound to get me into trouble; you've got to get me 
 out again." 
 
 " Now," the girl returned, " you're showing your 
 true brilliancy. And from what I know of my 
 
 259
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 father, I think we will what's the word they use 
 in the melodramas dissemble. That's it. We'll 
 dissemble. You just tell my father that you 
 talked with me, and that I very sensibly agreed 
 with him. That will put his mind at rest. Poor 
 father. He has so many things he's busy about 
 I should never forgive myself if I caused him one 
 worry more. Yes, I think that will be very satis- 
 factory. The best way for every one." 
 
 Vaughan did not appear greatly to relish her 
 plans. " Satisfactory," he echoed. " Seeing you 
 once a month. Well, if you think that's clever, I 
 must say " 
 
 " Seeing you here" the girl interrupted. 
 " There's a vast difference in that. This isn't the 
 only place in the world. Really, Arthur, for a 
 young man of your inventiveness " 
 
 She paused, her eyes alight with tender merri- 
 ment. At last he seemed to comprehend. " Oh, 
 yes," he nodded, " I see. In town, I suppose, but 
 then there's always somebody sees you, and then 
 3 r our father hears about it " 
 
 "Stupid," she flashed at him. "Aren't there 
 260
 
 VAUGHAN DOUBTS 
 
 better places than walking down the Avenue, or 
 going around to picture galleries? What's the fun 
 in that? Isn'r there a river not so far away? 
 Aren't there woods all about us romantic enough 
 even for you? That's all easy to arrange. It'll be 
 quite fun working it all out. But the main thing 
 to manage, Arthur " her tone suddenly altered 
 " is that nothing shall ever come between us. To 
 try to keep apart two people who really love each 
 other as we do, just because of anything like 
 money, or fame, why, really, my dear, that's noth- 
 ing short of a crime." 
 
 He nodded, yet a little grimly. " In theory, 
 dear, you're quite right," he answered. " But how 
 about the practice? Money! Fame! We can 
 talk about them all we choose as little things, when 
 we haven't them, and the grapes, perhaps, are a 
 little sour, but how they count, after all. Poor 
 Love! Love wasn't made for a practical world. 
 His bow and arrow is effectual enough, when 
 there's no fiercer game abroad than the hearts of 
 girls and boys, but how can he fight against real 
 warriors shields of gold and trumpets of brass. 
 
 261
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 Poor Love! Who could blame him for running 
 away? " 
 
 She took his hand with a gesture almost ma- 
 ternal. " My dear, my dear," she said, " you 
 mustn't talk like that. It's sacrilege, almost. If 
 he were the true god of love, he wouldn't fly. 
 And his darts would pierce the golden shield, and 
 put the trumpets to rout. You, Arthur, a lover 
 of all things beautiful, to dream of deserting, of 
 arraying yourself on the side of Mammon." 
 
 She spoke lightly, but with a real meaning behind 
 her words. He seemed, however, to be uncon- 
 vinced, for when he replied it was with a bitterness 
 that startled her. "I don't care," he said, "I've 
 missed it somehow. I've made an awful failure 
 of things. Look at me ! Making no bluffs, as lots 
 of men do, keeping back nothing, I'm earning a 
 little over a thousand dollars a year. And other 
 men classmates yes, confound it, and men 
 who came out of college five years later than I did 
 and worse than that, men who never went to 
 college at all they can make money ; good money, 
 lots of them; a few, big money, even; and here I 
 
 262
 
 VAUGHAN DOUBTS 
 
 am, trying to publish a book that never will be pub- 
 lished; and which, if it should be, nobody 'd ever 
 read. Oh, the world's pretty near right, after all; 
 nearer right than we think; I'm labeled at just 
 about my face value : a thousand dollars a year." 
 
 She laid her hand lightly on his lips. " No, no," 
 she cried, " you don't understand. You've been 
 brooding over this so long you've lost all sense of 
 proportion between money and other things. I'll 
 tell you what I think. I think making money's 
 only a knack. I believe some men are born with 
 it, and others aren't. Look at the men who start 
 with a pack of rags on their back, and die worth 
 millions. It's in them; it's no credit to them; 
 maybe the reverse. No one man can be everything. 
 Some men can build railroads, but I couldn't im- 
 agine you doing anything like that if you tried your 
 honest best for a hundred years. No, my dear, 
 because money seems to you to be the thing you 
 need the most just now, you've been so envious of 
 the men who are able to make it quickly that you've 
 forgotten all that you have to be thankful for; 
 something that very few men have granted to them 
 
 263
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 at all, even a hundredth part of what you possess 
 and that's the precious perception of the artist; 
 the power to see things which the ordinary man can 
 never see. You'll succeed, I know you will, but 
 even if you never "should by the world's stand- 
 ards, I mean you ought never to repine. Read 
 your Browning again, dear; even I can appreciate 
 that. ' One who never turned his back but marched 
 breast forward, never doubted clouds would break ' 
 how can any man turn faint heart after that? 
 The truth, dear, that's everything, after all." 
 
 Very humbly and very reverently he stooped and 
 kissed her. " You're right, Rose," he said, " and 
 I've been wrong. Forgive me. But you know 
 yourself sometimes it's hard; sometimes the 
 world's standards grip you so that you can't keep 
 to your own. But I've been wrong, and I admit 
 it most humbly. You've a very wise little head 
 on your shoulders, dear, and I thank you for setting 
 me right. I won't go backsliding again in a hurry, 
 I'll promise you." 
 
 There was a long silence. Then at last abruptly 
 Vaughan spoke, " Rose," he said, " what you've 
 
 264
 
 VAUGHAN DOUBTS 
 
 just been saying has reminded me of something I 
 wanted to ask you about. It's a hypothetical case, 
 that a friend of mine put to me; simple enough, 
 seemingly, yet hard for me to decide. What would 
 you say to this? Suppose some friend of yours 
 had done something for which there was no possi- 
 ble excuse ; committed a crime, we'll say. Suppose 
 you had it in your power to condemn him, by tell- 
 ing something that you knew, or, by keeping silent, 
 could clear him for ever. What is your duty ? " 
 
 The girl did not hesitate. " To tell what I know, 
 friend or no friend," she answered. 
 
 Yaughan nodded. " That's what I supposed 
 you'd say," he rejoined. " Now go a step further. 
 Suppose it were I that had done the wrong. Would 
 you tell then?" 
 
 The girl's answer came as direct as before. 
 "You," she cried, "never; never in the world. I 
 couldn't Any one but you." 
 
 Vaughan's laugh had little of mirth in it. " And 
 yet," he said, "if we are worshippers of the truth, 
 which it is so easy to prate of and so hard to live, 
 where is the logical distinction? Why should a 
 
 265
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 little matter of personal liking for anybody stand 
 in your way ? " 
 
 The girl was silent. Then, unwillingly enough, 
 " No, I suppose you're right," she said. " But it 
 wouldn't be logic that would decide me. I couldn't 
 expose you, that would be all. I'd acknowledge to 
 myself the wrong I was doing, but I'd go ahead 
 with it just the same. Perhaps that's because I'm 
 a woman, and trust too much to intuition. If I 
 were a man, I don't know. As you say, there's no 
 question of the real right and wrong of it. One 
 should speak, regardless of everything else. And 
 making it a question of degree does put the whole 
 thing in a terribly unsatisfactory light. A stranger 
 I wouldn't hesitate about. You, I could never be- 
 tray, though I knew I was doing wrong. Midway 
 between, all grades of hatred, liking, love. No, it 
 isn't satisfactory, is it? Oh, I don't know how to 
 answer, Arthur. But we've only a few minutes 
 left, dear. Let's not spoil it by being too grave. 
 I'm glad that it's only a hypothetical question, at 
 any rate. Not an actual one." 
 
 " Yes," Vaughan answered, " I'm glad too." 
 266
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE QUEST OF TRUTH 
 
 " And broader and brighter 
 The Gleam flying onward, 
 Wed to the melody, 
 Sang thro' the world ; 
 * * * 
 
 After it, follow it, 
 Follow the Gleam." 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 IT was nine o'clock on a cold, bleak evening in 
 late December. A bitter, stinging, northwest 
 wind raged unopposed up and down the length of 
 the passive, shivering, all but deserted Avenue; buf- 
 feting the few unfortunate stragglers still out-of- 
 doors, making shrill music among the chimney-tops, 
 shouting and storming at fast-closed doors, and 
 tracing every moment deeper and deeper its bold, 
 yet delicate design on rattling window and frost- 
 embroidered pane. 
 
 267
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 A pleasant thing, indeed, on this wild night, to 
 turn indoors to some place where comfort lay; and 
 for a moment to glance at the little room where 
 Professor Emerson sat alone among his books, 
 reading peacefully, and with such, absorption, that 
 to the tumult without he paid no heed. His ven- 
 erable, white-bearded figure lay for the greater part 
 almost wholly in shadow, and the light of the study 
 lamp, shining full upon his features, brought out 
 in vivid contrast the strong and well-etched outline 
 of his face. It was a face noble and sensitive, with 
 a certain clear-cut delicacy of line; pale as if hewn 
 from the very marble, and yet as if lighted by the 
 cold, clear fire of the spirit within, so fine, so keen, 
 so intellectual still, that one must needs peer more 
 closely to discover the network of tmy, almost im- 
 perceptible wrinkles; one must needs note more 
 carefully the trembling of the thin, blue-veined hand 
 that held the book, to realize that the professor, 
 alert and active for so many long years, was but 
 a professor emeritus now; and that one was gazing 
 on a man feeble, infirm and old. 
 
 Peacefully he sat there, and indeed, in that quiet 
 268
 
 THE QUEST OF TRUTH 
 
 room, on an ear far quicker and readier than his 
 own the fury of the gale would scarce have struck 
 disturbingly. Blow the wind as it might around 
 the casement, rug and curtain and tapestry laughed 
 it to scorn; whistle as it would down the chimney, 
 the mounting warmth of the crackling flame met 
 and repulsed it at every turn. Verily the little 
 room, restful and serene, the scholar's orderly 
 abode, seemed a sanctuary alike from the storms 
 of nature and from the storms of the world. 
 
 Presently, through the stillness of the house, a 
 bell pealed sharply. To the old man, however, it 
 must have sounded but faintly, for at once, with 
 but a momentary half glance upward from his 
 book, he fell to reading again. Nor was his serv- 
 ant's knock on the study door enough. It was 
 only when he had entered the room, and had ap- 
 proached respectfully almost to within arm's length, 
 that the professor at last gave heed. " Mr. 
 Vaughan, sir," said the man, " wishes to know if 
 you could see him for a little while." 
 
 At once the old scholar seemed to rouse himself. 
 Closing his book, he laid it aside. " Mr. Vaughan," 
 
 269
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 he repeated, " why, yes indeed. Ask him to step 
 right up, please," and a moment later footsteps 
 sounded in the hall outside, and Arthur Vaughan 
 came quickly into the room. 
 
 Greetings exchanged, the old man beamed benev- 
 olently across the fire at his former pupil. " This 
 is very kind of you, Arthur," he said, " I'm always 
 glad to see any of my old boys ; and I don't get the 
 chance so often now. And what is it to-night? 
 Something you wished to ask me about, or did you 
 just drop in for a chat ? " 
 
 Vaughan hesitated for a moment before reply- 
 ing. "A little of both, Professor," he said at 
 length. " I wanted to see how you were, for one 
 thing; and for another, I had something on my 
 mind that I wanted to get your opinion on. I al- 
 ways used to come to you in college, when things 
 bothered me, and I thought I'd do the same now. 
 This is a hypothetical case a question of conduct 
 ' and one of the puzzling ones that seem to have 
 right on both sides." 
 
 Instantly the old man's interest was awakened. 
 "A question of conduct," he repeated, "by all 
 
 270
 
 THE QUEST OF TRUTH 
 
 means let me hear it, Arthur. There's nothing 
 more interesting than that, ever. Matthew Arnold, 
 you know ' conduct three-fourths of life.' Very 
 likely so, of course, and yet I always wondered 
 just how he fixed it with such exactness. Why not 
 five-eighths, I used to wonder, or seven-eighths; 
 why just the seventy-five per cent. He thought 
 himself, as I remember it, that he'd pitched it low, 
 and Stevenson, on the other hand, considered it 
 high. Well, that was Arnold, all over. A little 
 arbitrary in such things; a little given to catch- 
 words, perhaps; black letter, you know; and yet, 
 for all that, a great critic, a great debater, and to 
 my thinking, a great poet as well. Well, well, 
 there I go rambling again. This old head-piece, 
 I'm beginning to think, Arthur, is getting pretty 
 shaky now. Well, to come back to the point. A 
 question of conduct; that's it, isn't it?" 
 
 Vaughan smiled. "To tell the truth, Profes- 
 sor," he answered, " if I were to consult my own 
 pleasure, I'd rather try to keep you rambling, as 
 you call it, than to come down to any dry question 
 of right and wrong. But as long as I have this 
 
 271
 
 on my mind, I suppose I'd better get down to busi- 
 ness, and save the ramble for another time. This 
 is the case, Professor. Suppose a man has a friend 
 
 not a mere acquaintance, you understand but 
 one of those rare things, 'a real friend, for whom 
 he would do almost anything under heaven, if it 
 would help him in any way. And then suppose that 
 suddenly, absolutely by chance, he comes upon the 
 knowledge that this friend has committed a crime 
 
 a crime so dastardly that he can atone for it only 
 with his life. No one else in the whole world " 
 for just an instant he stopped, then with a shrug of 
 his shoulders, went on. " Yes, we'll let it go at that, 
 I think. No one else in the whole world knows 
 the facts. He holds his friend's life practically in 
 his hands. And so the question comes. Shall 
 he turn informer? What is his duty? Shall he 
 treat his friend as if he were some ordinary crim- 
 inal whom he had never seen should be at all 
 eagerness to drag him before the bar of justice, and 
 have him pay the penalty of his crime? Or has 
 friendship some claim? Has he the right to stand 
 aside, shoulders shrugged, mouth tightly closed? 
 
 272
 
 THE QUEST OF TRUTH 
 
 Has he the right to say, ' No business of mine. Let 
 the man settle it with his conscience and his God ? ' 
 Has he a choice ? Or is he bound to step forward ? 
 Is he dragged into the cursed business against his 
 will ? Can he keep silence, or must he speak ? " 
 
 He stopped abruptly. There was a silence, a 
 silence so long that Vaughan was beginning to 
 wonder whether or not the old man's brain had 
 fully grasped his words. But when at last the 
 professor spoke, it was evident that the pause had 
 been given only to careful thought; that no detail 
 of the problem had been lost on him. " Is any ene 
 else, Arthur," he asked, " supposed to be involved ? 
 Or is it simply the case of the man himself? Are 
 there others to be considered, or does he stand 
 alone, confronted with the deed he has done? " 
 
 Vaughan's answering laugh had nothing of 
 mirth in it. " Any one else," he echoed, " I should 
 say so. Relatives; friends; a woman's heart, per- 
 haps, to be broken. And the man who is con- 
 fronted with the problem it may mean loss of 
 his own happiness as well. And a name, too; a 
 family name that's been maintained with honor for 
 
 273
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 centuries, almost, one might say. That's to be 
 dragged in the dust, if it all becomes known. Is 
 any one else involved?" He laughed again. 
 
 There was a pause before the professor spoke, 
 and then, " Could the man make atonement, 
 Arthur ? " he asked. 
 
 Vaughan's tone, when he answered, was low and 
 sad. " Never," he replied, " never in a million 
 years. It is a crime where mankind seek to do 
 justice, but where really there is no possible atone- 
 ment. The crime is the taking of the life of a 
 fellow-man." 
 
 The old man slowly nodded. "And he refuses 
 to come forward? " he asked. 
 
 " He refuses to come forward," Vaughan an- 
 swered, " though of his motives, perhaps it is 
 hardly fair to pretend to judge. Still, strictly 
 speaking, I suppose that scarcely alters the case. 
 Whatever his idea in keeping silent, in any event 
 he does so." 
 
 " And of his guilt," said the professor, " I 
 understand you to make no question. That, as I 
 
 274
 
 THE QUEST OF TRUTH 
 
 understand it, is one of the fixed hypotheses of 
 the problem, and not open to discussion." 
 
 Vaughan inclined his head. " Exactly," he re- 
 turned. "Of his guilt, unfortunately, there is no 
 question. That we may regard as fixed." 
 
 Long and earnestly the old man pondered. 
 " There is a difficulty, of course," he said, at length. 
 " Under ordinary circumstances, or rather, perhaps, 
 I should say, under extraordinary circumstances, 
 under the hypothesis, I mean, that there existed in 
 all the world only the murdered man, the criminal, 
 yourself, and the tribunal of justice, then I suppose 
 the case would be tolerably clear. I suppose no 
 sophistry could convince us that the incidental fact 
 of a personal friendship should in reality make the 
 slightest difference as to what your duty would be. 
 But then there enters the complication of which you 
 speak the rights of the other parties involved. 
 As to whether there were others concerned, my 
 question was almost a needless precaution. Of 
 course there are. No man, even the lowest, ever 
 lives to himself alone. Consciously or uncon- 
 
 275
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 sciously, he has to influence some one about him, 
 for good or evil, as the case may be. But consider- 
 ing everything, even the sorrow and misfortune 
 that must result from it, I am of opinion, Arthur, 
 that the man should speak. It would be hard, of 
 course; terribly hard; but life is hard. And of the 
 ultimate standard of right and wrong, we may 
 scarcely hope to judge. All that we may hope to 
 do is to act up to the truth as we see it. And here, 
 Arthur, I believe the duty is plain. To what the 
 man has seen he must bear witness, at whatever 
 cost. That way lies right, and to follow the easier, 
 the more human course, and to keep silence, that 
 way lies wrong." 
 
 Vaughan had sat listening with downcast eyes. 
 In spite of himself, he could not raise them to meet 
 the professor's glance, though within him his mind, 
 mutinous, rebelled. " But doesn't friendship 
 count?" he said at last. "Doesn't loyalty go for 
 anything? Can a man play the traitor, as you 
 would have him do, and not be branded false for 
 all eternity ? " 
 
 The professor's gaze, serene and calm, never for 
 276
 
 THE QUEST OF TRUTH 
 
 an instant faltered. " Arthur," he said, " yoir 
 don't believe that not a word of it. You're try- 
 ing to make good soldiers enlist in a bad cause. 
 Friendship, loyalty ; yes, they are fine things ; scarce 
 anything finer, perhaps; but where the true al- 
 legiance of these fine things belongs that it is 
 the truth that transcends all else that, Arthur, 
 you know, in your inmost heart, as well as I." 
 
 Vaughan sat silent, with clouded brow. And 
 then, as the pause lengthened, he made another 
 effort still. " But, Professor, even if the individual 
 amounts to little, isn't there the further question 
 of the other matter of which I have spoken the 
 question of an honored family name. That, at 
 least, Professor, is no small thing. To bring a 
 stain upon it, without the most absolute necessity 
 for so doing, doesn't it seem, in a way, like seeking 
 to debase the currency? A name, graced by 
 generations of those who have borne it worthily, 
 passes always current for patriotism, integrity, 
 honesty; the name becomes of itself a force for 
 the public good. And now, suddenly debase that 
 name smirch and mar it and you have struck 
 
 277
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 a blow at the very foundation of things; you shake 
 the confidence of the people at large in something 
 which they had come to regard as one of the un- 
 questioned bulwarks of the city and the state. 
 Isn't that something to be well considered? 
 Should not the man see to it, that in righting, or 
 trying to right, a wrong for which he is not 
 responsible, he does not go too far, and instead of 
 reparation, leave behind him, in its place, a scar a 
 blot that even time can not erase. Isn't that 
 the solution, sir? Should not the man keep still? " 
 For a time the old man sat silent, weighing 
 Vaughan's words well, before he at length made 
 answer. "That is an argument, Arthur," he re- 
 plied, " a plausible argument ; yet hardly, I 
 should say, sound. Debasing the currency is an 
 excellent figure, yet there is a currency as much 
 higher than that of family names, as gold outvalues 
 copper. And to seek to keep the copper inviolate, 
 while at the same time forced to debase the real 
 currency the standard gold would that be the 
 path of wisdom? Names, you say; great names; 
 but they seem such a small thing in the wide uni- 
 
 278
 
 THE QUEST OF TRUTH 
 
 verse itself; a name; a great name; a generation of 
 great names ; all but the tiniest dust motes shimmer- 
 ing across the sunbeam which gives them all the 
 luster they may claim. Is the dust speck of reputa- 
 tion worth saving, if its rescue means the shutting 
 out of the sunbeam Truth? " 
 
 In his turn Vaughan sat silent, seeking vainly 
 for words thoughts arguments that would 
 not come. At length he rose, his hands clenched, 
 the struggle going on within him showing in every 
 line of his sensitive face. " I don't know ; I don't 
 know;" he cried, "I have to think it out myself. 
 But I thank you, Professor, for your kindness; I 
 hope I haven't tired you," and taking the old man's 
 hand in farewell, he made his way hurriedly out of 
 the room. 
 
 279
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 MURDER WILL OUT 
 
 "Murder, though it have no tongue, will speak 
 With most miraculous organ." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 HENRY CARLETON and his daughter sat in 
 the library at The Birches, Carleton writing 
 at the long table, Rose, with easy chair drawn up 
 in front of the fire, busied with her embroidery. 
 Presently Henry Carleton laid aside his pen, and 
 rising, walked over to the bookcase ; where he found 
 the volume and verified the quotation which he 
 sought ; then, with a smile of satisfaction, he walked 
 back to the table again, and for an instant stood 
 there, glancing down contentedly at the orderly ar- 
 rangement of papers and documents now completed 
 and laid aside, awaiting the morrow. 
 
 The expression of his face was serene and 
 benevolent. His very attitude even, indeed, 
 
 280
 
 MURDER WILL OUT 
 
 something about the atmosphere of the room itself 
 -breathed of the man at peace with himse^ an<f 
 with the world. And such a man, at the moment, 
 in very truth Henry Carleton was, and with every' 
 reason therefor besides. The routine of his well- 
 ordered day was drawing to a close. From the 
 dinner table he had gone direct to his evening 
 paper from the paper to his desk. The little 
 white heap of envelopes that stood ready for the 
 morrow's mailing bore witness to his labors there. 
 The big check book at their side was closed mod- 
 estly and becomingly closed but if the observer's 
 eye had been able to penetrate the cover, and for a 
 moment to look at the stubs within, his admiration 
 for Henry Carleton could but have been increased 
 by what he would there have seen. One check, 
 made payable to the Cripples' Home, was for five 
 hundred dollars; there were a half dozen more, 
 payable to other charities, for a hundred each ; there 
 was one for twenty-five drawn to the order of a 
 poor veteran in Eversley village. Surely witnesses 
 better than these no man could well desire. What 
 wonder that Henry Carleton was content. 
 
 281
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 And now, with business out of the way, with 
 his household and his private affairs all in order, 
 this man of so many talents and virtues had turned 
 to his pet avocation literature and was forg- 
 ing busily ahead on his scholarly essay, Character 
 Drawing in the Early English Novel. Glancing 
 over what he had written, at once he spoke aloud, 
 half to his daughter, half the most important 
 half to himself. This thinking aloud over his 
 literary work was a favorite method with him. 
 He liked to get Rose's ideas and criticisms some- 
 times, to his surprise, they appeared upon reflection 
 to contain much of good sense and apart from 
 this, he believed that it was in this way he could 
 pass the fairest and the most searching judg- 
 ment upon his labors. And after all, the question 
 of benefit apart, the sound of his own voice was 
 in nowise distasteful to him. Nor could he well 
 be blamed. It was a pleasant voice and well-modu- 
 lated, and through its medium he liked to think 
 around his subject, to get the swing and cadence 
 of each varying phrase, before at length he came 
 
 282
 
 MURDER WILL OUT 
 
 to make his last " fair copy," and thus to transmit 
 his ideas to paper in final form. 
 
 " ' Sir Charles Grandison,' Rose," he read, " ' is 
 beyond question most skilfully drawn, with all the 
 author's great command of those quiet little strokes 
 and touches, one superimposed on the other, which 
 at last give us the portrait of the man, standing 
 forth from the canvas in all the seeming reality of 
 flesh and blood.' How does that strike you, 
 Rose?" 
 
 The girl wrinkled her pretty forehead " Well, 
 father," she answered, a little dubiously, " for one 
 thing, I don't know that I think it's quite true. 
 I always thought Sir Charles was a terrible prig; 
 horribly self-satisfied and altogether too much 
 taken up with marveling at his own virtues. I 
 don't believe, you know, that a man like Sir Charles 
 ever could assume for any one * the seeming reality 
 of flesh and blood.' ' The seeming reality of a lay 
 figure,' I think, would be about the nearest phrase 
 one could properly use." 
 
 Henry Carleton hastened to dissent. " No, no, 
 283
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 my dear," he returned, " you're quite wrong. Sir 
 Charles wasn't perfect. Richardson was far too 
 clever to fall into that error. Sir Charles had his 
 faults, and the author in his concluding note takes 
 special pains to draw attention to them. He had 
 his faults, but then his virtues so far outweighed 
 them that they sank into insignificance. Then 
 there was Lovelace, whose faults were so pro- 
 nounced, and who had such a lack of any redeeming 
 virtues, that he is at once to be condemned as a 
 character thoroughly immoral, serviceable ethically 
 only to point the awful example of talents misspent 
 and energies abused. And midway between the 
 two is Mr. B., who also had his failings, but who 
 finally atoned for them by his condescension in 
 marrying Pamela. The trio, I think, point the way 
 to the author's whole philosophy of life. We have 
 our faults, even the best of us. We can't help 
 them. But on the other hand, by constant en- 
 deavor, we can do so much good that in the end we 
 counterbalance the evil we do, and so to speak 
 obliterate it altogether. Very good, I think, and 
 
 284
 
 very sound. An interesting title for a little essay, 
 The Balance, don't you think so, Rose ? " 
 
 The girl looked doubtful. " Why, no," she an- 
 swered, " to tell the truth, I don't. I should think 
 that was a pretty dangerous doctrine. Good and 
 evil debit and credit. I should think it was a 
 very grave question whether any amount of good 
 could ever really balance one conscious evil act. 
 Take Mr. B., whom you've just quoted, for ex- 
 ample. I could never, in reading that book, think 
 of him as anything but a great, hulking, overbear- 
 ing, arrogant animal, and the shameful way in 
 which he treated poor Sally Goodwin is a case right 
 in point that was something no man could ever 
 atone for, even by a series of the finest deeds in the 
 world. No, father, I think, if I were you, I 
 shouldn't try to justify a theory like that. I'm 
 afraid it isn't sound." 
 
 Henry Carleton frowned. " Nonsense," he 
 cried, for him a little irritably, " it's perfectly 
 sound. I could give you a hundred examples. 
 ' Take him for all in all,' as Shakespeare phrases it ; 
 
 285
 
 that's what I mean. Some evil has to be done with 
 the good, unless we're going back to pillories and 
 hermitages, to keep ourselves unspotted from the 
 world. And in these days common sense forbids 
 that. Your view is entirely unreasonable, Rose." 
 
 The girl seemed somewhat surprised at his un- 
 usual heat. With a little laugh she rolled up her 
 embroidery, quitted the easy chair, and coming 
 over to him, kissed him obediently on the cheek. 
 " Well, don't mind me, father," she said affection- 
 ately, " if you don't want my foolish ideas, you 
 shouldn't ask for them. One thing's sure; if your 
 theory is right, you can do about anything you 
 want to now. Rob a bank or commit any 
 dreadful crime you choose. Your balance must 
 be so large you couldn't overdraw it if you tried." 
 
 Carleton laughed. " Well, perhaps that is rather 
 a reductio ad absurdum" he answered. " In any 
 event, I don't think I'll experiment in the way you 
 mention. You're not going up-stairs already, are 
 you, Rose ? " 
 
 She nodded. " Yes, if you don't mind," she re- 
 plied, " I'm a little tired this evening. Good night. 
 
 286
 
 MURDER WILL OUT 
 
 Don't work too hard over your writing now. You 
 never rest. I never saw such a man." 
 
 Left alone, Carleton returned to his essay, but 
 not with the concentration he had before displayed. 
 A sudden restlessness seemed to have come over 
 him. Once or twice he ceased his work to consult 
 his watch, and finally stopped, rose hastily, and 
 walked over to the window, where he stood gazing 
 aimlessly put into the night; then, with a sigh, 
 turned slowly, almost, one would have said, reluc- 
 tantly, again to his task. 
 
 For perhaps five minutes he kept manfully at 
 work. Then once again his attention seemed to 
 wander ; slowly and still more slowly moved the un- 
 willing pen, and finally, with a sudden impatient 
 gesture, he laid it down, flung himself back in his 
 chair, and sat there motionless, yet not with the 
 air of one who has comfortably finished the task he 
 has in hand, but rather as if debating within him- 
 self, between two possible courses of action, which 
 one at last to choose. 
 
 If such, indeed, was the case, the decision was 
 not to lie with him. There came a knock at the 
 
 287
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 door. " Come in," he said quickly, and the butler, 
 Helmar's friend of old, a little thinner, a little 
 grayer, a little more imperturbable than ever, 
 entered softly, approaching close to his master's el- 
 bow before he delivered himself of his message. 
 " Mr. Vaughan, sir," he announced with slow de- 
 liberation, " in the reception-room. He wishes to 
 know, sir, if without inconvenience to yourself you 
 could give him a few moments." 
 
 Henry Carleton looked a little surprised, perhaps 
 also a little annoyed. " To see me" he said, 
 " you're sure, Burton, that it wasn't Miss Rose he 
 asked for?" 
 
 The butler's manner was one verging on gentle 
 reproof. Within his domain he did not allow him- 
 self the luxury of making mistakes. " Quite sure, 
 sir," he answered. His {one, though respectful, 
 did not admit of further questioning upon the point. 
 Henry Carleton sighed, and appeared to rouse him- 
 self. "Why, of course," he said, "tell him I'll 
 be down at once ; or no," he added, " please, Bur- 
 ton, tell him to come up here instead." 
 
 The butler, inclining his head, withdrew. Then, 
 288
 
 MURDER WILL OUT 
 
 a moment or two later, the sound of ascending foot- 
 steps, and Vaughan entered the room. At once 
 something in his appearance struck Henry Carleton 
 as far out of the ordinary. " Why, my dear boy," 
 he cried, " you look worried to death. What's gone 
 wrong? No more bad news from the book? " 
 
 Vaughan silently shook his head. He was in- 
 deed looking miserably, and when he took a chair, 
 he sat bolt upright on its edge, leaning forward 
 nervously when he spoke. " No," he said, " it's 
 worse than that, Mr. Carleton; a whole lot worse. 
 It's something that's been troubling me for a long 
 time now, until finally I've made up my mind that 
 the only thing for me to do is to come straight to 
 you with it, and tell you the whole story. And 
 that's why I'm here." 
 
 At once Carleton shoved books and papers aside, 
 as if the better to prepare himself for proper atten- 
 tion to Vaughan's words. He looked at his visitor 
 with an air of friendly concern. " Anything that 
 I can do " he murmured. "You know, of 
 course, that you may count on me. Anything in 
 my power " 
 
 289
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 Vaughan nodded abruptly. " Thank you," he 
 said hastily and a little grimly, " it's not a favor 
 that I've come for. I'm going to do you a bad 
 turn, I'm afraid. Going to do everybody a bad 
 turn, as far as that goes. But it can't be helped. 
 I've got to go ahead, and that's all there is to it." 
 
 Henry Carleton eyed him narrowly, but without 
 speaking, and Vaughan, looking up, as if eager 
 to have his task over, with sudden resolve, began. 
 " It's about Satterlee," he said, " you remember 
 how things happened out here that night, of course. 
 I guess we all do. Jack went up-stairs to bed, you 
 remember, and you and Cummings went off to play 
 billiards. I was on the piazza, with Rose, and 
 stayed there until you came down to tell her that 
 it was getting late. Then, after she went up-stairs, 
 you told me that you were going for a short walk, 
 and I said I believed I'd go to my room. Well, I 
 didn't. I don't know why. I started to go in, and 
 then the night was so fine ; I had so much that was 
 pleasant to think about somehow I couldn't stand 
 the idea of going into the house, and instead I took 
 a stroll around the grounds." 
 
 290
 
 MURDER WILL OUT 
 
 He stopped for a moment. Henry Carletonv 
 gazing intently at him, gave no sign from his ex- 
 pression that he was experiencing any emotion be- 
 yond that of the keenest interest and attention. 
 Only his eyes, in the shadow, had lost their custom- 
 ary benevolent expression, narrowing until their 
 look was keen, alert ; the look of a man put quickly 
 on his guard. And as Vaughan still kept silence, 
 it chanced that Carleton was the first again to 
 speak. " Well," he queried impatiently, " and what 
 then?" 
 
 Vaughan drew a quick breath. " This," he 
 cried hastily, almost recklessly, " this. I walked 
 down toward Satterlee's cottage, and I saw what 
 happened there. Satterlee didn't fall from any 
 rock. He was murdered. And I saw it all." 
 
 Henry Carleton did not start. There was no 
 cry of surprise, no single word, even. Only, as 
 Vaughan had finished, on a sudden his eyes dilated 
 strangely; his lips parted a trifle; for a moment, 
 without breathing, without animation, it seemed 
 as if the man's whole being hung poised motionless r 
 suspended. So great the surprise, so great the 
 
 291
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 shock, that one, not knowing, might almost have 
 believed himself to be looking upon the man who 
 had done the deed. " Murdered ? " he at last re- 
 peated dully, "You saw it? Murdered?" there 
 was a moment's silence, and then, all at once seem- 
 ing to recover himself, he leaned forward in his 
 chair. " By whom? " he cried sharply, with just a 
 note of menace in his tone, " By whom? " 
 
 On Vaughan's part there was no further hesita- 
 tion. He had gone too far for that. Yet his face 
 was drawn and distorted with pain as in a tone so 
 low that Carleton could scarcely hear, he uttered 
 the single word, " Jack." 
 
 And this time the added shock was too great. 
 Henry Carleton started visibly, the most intense 
 emotion showing in every line of his face. 
 "Jack? "he gasped, "Jack?" 
 
 In silence Vaughan bowed his head, hardly able 
 to look on the anguish which his words had caused. 
 " Jack," he muttered again, under his breath. 
 
 There was a silence, tense, pregnant. Once 
 Vaughan, slowly raising his head, had started to 
 speak, and Henry Carleton had instantly lifted a 
 
 292
 
 Henry Carleton started visibly. Page 292
 
 MURDER WILL OUT 
 
 hand to enjoin silence. " Wait a minute ! " he 
 commanded. Evidently he was striving to recol- 
 lect. Then presently he spoke again. " Non- 
 sense," he cried, " I remember perfectly now. That 
 was the night that Jack said he felt tired; he went 
 to his room early to smoke a pipe, and then turn in. 
 Jack murder Satterlee! Why, nonsense, man! 
 You're dreaming. You're not in your right mind. 
 Jack and Satterlee were always good friends, and 
 Mrs. Satterlee, too. No, no. Jack to murder any 
 one is nonsensical enough ; but Jack to murder Sat- 
 terlee impossible simply impossible ! " 
 
 Stubbornly Vaughan shook his head. " I wish 
 to God it were," he answered, with deep feeling. 
 " It sounds wild enough, I know, but it's true, for 
 all that. Every word. And one thing you've just 
 said " he hesitated, and stopped, then unwillingly 
 enough continued, " one thing, I'm afraid, goes a 
 long ways toward explaining, and that is that Jack 
 was such good friends with Mrs. Satterlee. I'm 
 afraid that was the beginning of everything." 
 
 Carleton's face was pale, and his voice, when he 
 spoke, was hoarse with emotion. " God, Vaugh- 
 
 293
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 an," he said, " this is terrible," and then, with a 
 quick return to his former manner, " no, no, I 
 can't believe it yet. Tell me what you saw. Not 
 what you imagined or conjectured. Just what you 
 saw actually saw with your own eyes." 
 
 " There isn't very much to tell," Vaughan an- 
 swered. " I just happened to walk that way, for 
 no reason whatsoever. Just by chance; I might 
 have gone any other way as well. And finally I 
 came out on the top of a little hill no, not a hill 
 exactly ; more like a cliff and from there I could 
 see across to Satterlee's house. And while I stood 
 there, I saw a man Satterlee come across the 
 drive, and up the back way, and go in. Then, 
 in a minute, I heard a noise up-stairs, and some 
 one cry out; and then, a minute after that, Jack 
 rushed out of the house, with Satterlee after him 
 and suddenly Satterlee took to running queer and 
 wide and in a circle, with his head all held pitched to 
 one side ah, it was ghastly to see him and then 
 he came straight for the rock where I was standing, 
 and all at once his legs seemed to go out from 
 under him, and he sprawled right out on the gravel 
 
 294
 
 MURDER WILL OUT 
 
 on his face, and lay there. I turned faint for a 
 minute, I think, and the next thing I recall was 
 looking down again, and there was Jack trying to 
 lift Satterlee up, and when he scratched a match 
 his hands were all over blood, and Satterlee's face 
 oh, I've dreamed it all fifty times since he 
 was dead then, I suppose. His head hung limp, 
 I remember, and then it was cowardly, of 
 course, and all that, but the whole thing was so 
 unexpected so like a damnable kind of a night- 
 mare, somehow and Jack, you know why, it 
 was too much for me. I just turned, and made off, 
 and never stopped till I'd got back safe into my 
 room again. And that's all." 
 
 Henry Carleton sat silent, engrossed in thought. 
 Almost he seemed to be oblivious of Vaughan's 
 presence. " It couldn't be," he muttered, at last, 
 as though incredulous still, " it couldn't be. Jack ! " 
 he paused, only to repeat the name again. 
 Then he shook his head. " Never," he said with 
 decision, "he would have told everything. You 
 saw wrong, Arthur. You didn't see Jack." 
 
 Something in the older man's attitude of con- 
 
 295
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 tinued disbelief seemed to have the effect of nettling 
 Vaughan. " How many times," he said, with a 
 note of irritation in his tone, " must I repeat it ? 
 I tell you I know. Can't a man trust his own eyes ? 
 It was Jack. There's no room for doubt at all. 
 Don't you suppose " his voice rose with the strain 
 of all that he had been through " don't you sup- 
 pose that I'd have jumped at any chance to clear 
 him? Don't you suppose that if there'd been the 
 faintest shadow of a doubt in his favor, I'd have 
 stretched it to the breaking point to see him go free. 
 No, there's no question. It was Jack. Why he did 
 it, or how he did it, you can conjecture, if you 
 wish, but one thing is plain. Murder Tom Satterlee 
 he did." 
 
 His tone rang true. At last, in spite of himself, 
 Carleton appeared unwillingly to be convinced. 
 Again he pondered. " Then he perjured himself at 
 the inquest?" he said quickly at last. 
 
 Vaughan nodded. " He perjured himself at the 
 inquest," he assented. 
 
 " And you ? " asked Carleton, again, " you per- 
 jured yourself too?" 
 
 296
 
 MURDER WILL OUT 
 
 " I perjured myself too," Vaughan answered. 
 "There were plenty of other reasons, of course; 
 reasons that you can imagine. It wasn't just a 
 case of Jack alone. There was a lot else to think 
 of besides. We talked it over as well as we could 
 Jack and I. We thought of you. We thought 
 of Rose and of me. We thought of the Carle- 
 ton name. The disgrace of it all. We only had a 
 quarter of an hour, at the most and we lied, de- 
 liberately and consciously lied." 
 
 He looked up, instantly amazed at the look on 
 Carleton's face, for Carleton was gazing at him 
 as if he could scarcely believe his ears as if this 
 piece of news, for some reason, came as something 
 more unexpected than all the rest. " You talked 
 it over with Jack?" he said, "talked it over with 
 Jack, and Jack thought of me and the family 
 name. Upon my word, Arthur, I believe one of us 
 is mad." 
 
 Vaughan stared at him, uncomprehending. " I 
 don't see why you say that," he returned. " What 
 was there more natural? Or do you mean Jack 
 wasn't sincere when he put that forward as a rea- 
 
 297
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 son? I've thought of that, but I don't believe it 
 now. Just think how we should feel if instead of 
 sitting here and theorizing about it, we knew that 
 the facts were really public property. Do you won- 
 der that we stopped to consider everything? Do 
 you wonder that we decided as we did? But we 
 were wrong all wrong I knew it, really, all 
 the time. To tell what I saw that was the only 
 honest thing to do. I lied, and now I'm going to 
 try to make amends. I'm going to tell the truth, 
 no matter what comes. It's the only way." 
 
 Impatiently Henry Carleton shook his head. " 1 
 don't agree with you, in the least," he said quickly. 
 "" I think you decided rightly. I should have done 
 the same. And right or wrong, you've made your 
 choice. Why alter it now? It would make the 
 scandal of the day." 
 
 " I know it," Vaughan desperately assented, " I 
 know it will. But anything's better than having 
 things go on as they are now. I can't look people 
 in the face. Pve been miserable. I thought I 
 knew what it was to be badly off before, but pov- 
 erty, and bad luck, and failure what are they, 
 
 298
 
 MURDER WILL OUT 
 
 anyway? What do they amount to? Nothing. 
 But a thing like this on your conscience. Why, a 
 man's better dead. He can't live with it, day and 
 night. He can't; that's all. I know. He's got to 
 tell, or go crazy ; it isn't to be endured." 
 
 Without making answer, Henry Carleton rose, 
 and walked over to the window, standing precisely 
 as he had stood before Vaughan's coming, gazing 
 ut into the blackness of the night. Then he 
 turned. " Wait here," he said peremptorily. " I've 
 got to get to the bottom of this, or you won't be 
 the one to lose your senses. Wait here. I'll be 
 back in half an hour, at the very latest." 
 
 Sudden conjecture dawned in Vaughan's eyes. 
 " You're going - " he began, and then paused. 
 
 Henry Carleton completed the sentence for him. 
 " I'm going to see Mrs. Satterlee," he answered. 
 " I refuse to credit your story, Arthur, or what you 
 say Jack admits, unless she corroborates your tale 
 of what happened that night. It all depends on 
 her." 
 
 He turned to leave the room, then paused a mo- 
 ment, and again turned to Vaughan. " Have you 
 
 299
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 told Jack," he asked, "just what you propose to 
 do?" 
 
 Vaughan shook his head. " I haven't seen Jack," 
 he answered, " since the morning after it happened. 
 To tell the truth, I've taken pains not to see him. 
 I couldn't bear to. The whole thing got on my 
 nerves. It seemed to change him so. And about 
 this part of it, I haven't seen him, either. I 
 couldn't. To go to a man, and read him his death- 
 warrant. I couldn't. I thought I'd come to you." 
 
 Carleton nodded. " I think you've done wisely," 
 he said, " if this can all be true, I must see Jack 
 myself first. It becomes a family matter then. 
 Well, I must go. Wait here for me, please. I 
 won't be long." 
 
 For perhaps twenty minutes Vaughan sat alone 
 in the library, his mind, after the long strain of all 
 he had undergone, singularly torpid. Mechanically 
 he found himself counting the squares on a rug 
 near the table; three rows of six three rows of 
 five eighteen, fifteen, thirty-three. Over and 
 over again he did this until at last he pulled himself 
 
 300
 
 MURDER WILL OUT 
 
 up short with a start. And then he heard footsteps 
 ascending; and Henry Carleton hastily reentered 
 the room, his face stern and set. For an instant, 
 as Vaughan rose, the two men stood confronting 
 each other. "Well?" Vaughan asked, though 
 reading the answer to his question in the other's 
 eyes. 
 
 Carleton nodded. In the lamplight his face 
 looked ten years older. He spoke but two words. 
 " It's true," he said. 
 
 301
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE FAMILY NAME 
 
 " Reputation, reputation, reputation ! " 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 IT was long past closing time at Henry Carle- 
 ton's. Every one, from the oldest clerk to the 
 smallest office boy, had long since gone home. For 
 three hours, almost, the two men had had the office 
 to themselves. A long, bitter battle of words it had 
 been, all the stored-up brood of evil passions, hatred 
 and envy, anger and fear, as with the bursting of 
 some festering sore, had surged, foul and horrible, 
 into the clear light of the open day. 
 
 Henry Carleton sat at his desk, but not in his 
 usual attitude of calm composure, leaning back in 
 
 his chair, the acknowledged lord and master of his 
 
 i 
 
 little world, envied by all men who came to see him, 
 to buy or sell, bargain and haggle, plot and plan. 
 This Henry Carleton was a strangely different man. 
 
 3 2
 
 THE FAMILY NAME 
 
 Wearily enough he leaned forward in his chair, his 
 head propped on one hand, while in the other the 
 pencil which ordinarily never moved but to some 
 purpose, to jot down some pregnant list of facts or 
 figures, now moved over the blank surface of the 
 paper in little aimless scrawls and circles; fit index, 
 perhaps, to its owner's strange confusion of brain 
 a man for once troubled, wavering and irresolute, 
 well-nigh, at times, despairing, yet still seeking 
 feverishly the solution of the puzzle, making des- 
 perate hunt for the missing key. 
 
 Facing him sat Jack Carleton, astride of one of 
 the office chairs, his hands grasping its back, his eyes 
 never leaving the other's face. His whole expres- 
 sion the twitching mouth, the deep-set gleam in 
 his troubled eyes, the unconsciously wrinkled brow 
 all seemed to bear witness to some storm of pas- 
 sion that had passed over him, and even in the 
 comparative calm which had followed, had still left 
 its traces behind. One might have hazarded that 
 the man who sat there staring into Henry Carle- 
 ton's face was a man actuated by two feelings, one 
 new, one old; one a fear, deep and deadly, the 
 
 303
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 other a resentment so fierce and bitter, that unre- 
 strained by time and place, it would have loosed 
 him, like a bulldog, at the other's throat. 
 
 Without looking up, Henry Carleton again be- 
 gan the argument, his tone an odd mixture, half 
 threatening, half conciliatory, as one who, knowing 
 that it lies within his power to effect his ends by 
 force, yet for some reason strives first to gain them 
 by gentler means. " Jack," he said, " we have to 
 find a way out somehow. And I want to play fair 
 with you I want even to be more than fair " 
 
 Jack Carleton cut him short with a laugh so ut- 
 terly devoid of mirth, so full of the bitterest malice, 
 that a curse would have struck more pleasantly upon 
 the ear. " Oh, yes," he mocked, " of course you 
 do. You want to be fair." He paused a moment ; 
 then, with a naked, unrestrained, deliberate passion 
 horrible to witness, he protruded his head with a 
 gesture almost bestial, his tone lowered so that the 
 words came sibilantly from between his teeth. 
 " You damned sneak," he said, " why, in the name 
 of God, can't you act like a man? Talk like a 
 man? All these dirty, canting phrases of yours; 
 
 34
 
 THE FAMILY NAME 
 
 they've grown on you now so you can't drop 'em 
 if you wanted to. You've stifled all the real man 
 that was ever in you and to start with that was 
 precious little. You're a money making machine; 
 money distributing, too, if that's any comfort to 
 you; you credit to the Carleton name. You've 
 sneaked and schemed your way so long that you 
 do it from habit now; and a devil of a fine result 
 you've got this time. You want to be fair. Fair ! 
 Oh, my God ! " he laughed again. 
 
 Henry Carleton lifted a face flushed suddenly 
 with angry crimson. " Stop it, Jack," he com- 
 manded, and then, through force of long discipline, 
 with a sigh he slowly shook his head, and let his 
 clenched hands relax. " What's the use ? " he said, 
 with infinite patience, " what's the use now> of all 
 times? Hear me out, Jack. I know that you hate 
 me. And I know why. I've been a successful 
 man, and you've been a failure, but our chances 
 were the same. You could have done as well as 
 I. Only you chose to use your energies in a dif- 
 ferent way. That's all been your fault, not mine. 
 And now this thing's come up. You've had a sur- 
 
 305
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 prise to-day. You've found things very different 
 from what you expected. But what is my attitude 
 all the while? Am I trying to press my advantage 
 as I could? That's the last thing I want to do. 
 You think I hate you. Jack. Can't you see that I 
 don't? If I did, would I be talking as I'm talking 
 now ? Would I talk with you at all, even ? Would 
 I above all sit here and take your insults your 
 abuse? Not for an instant. You sit there, alive 
 and free and yet a dead man, Jack. Think of 
 it! Dead already. Dead as if you sat this instant 
 in the electric chair. And what am I saying ? the 
 man that you think hates you. What am I urging 
 and advising all this time, when I could see 
 you going in the prison door, never to come out 
 again alive? I'm showing you how to get out of 
 the whole thing scot-free ; giving you every chance ; 
 and you won't listen to me." 
 
 Jack Carleton had heard him out in silence, in- 
 deed, but without further emotion, without any 
 change of the hard, set look on his face. " Oh, 
 you're damned generous," he sneered, as the other 
 paused, " and you're doing it all out of love for 
 
 306
 
 THE FAMILY NAME 
 
 me. It's awfully sudden, this affection, isn't it? 
 It's been a long time coming." He laughed with a 
 jarring offensiveness, as if, strangely enough, he 
 was deliberately trying to incense, instead of to 
 placate, the man of whose good will he stood so 
 sorely in need. 
 
 Again Henry Carleton's face grew dark, as if at 
 last his irritation had got the upper hand. " For 
 Heaven's sake, Jack," he cried, " don't be a child, 
 just for the pleasure of trying to annoy me. I 
 say again, I'm being fair with you. I say again, 
 more than fair. And if you want to exercise your 
 irony on me by implying that I'm not actuated by 
 any love for you, I'll say frankly that this is too 
 complicated an affair for any one person's claims to 
 be paramount in trying to settle it. I'm considering 
 every one interested; I'm weighing all the chances 
 for everybody concerned ; you and I, and Rose, and 
 Vaughan, and Mrs. Satterlee we're all involved, 
 and I say again, looking at everything from all 
 possible points of view, it's for our interest, Jack - 
 for yours and mine to stand together, whatever 
 happens. There's nothing I want more, whether 
 
 307
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 you believe it or not, than to see you get out of the 
 whole thing clear. And don't " he raised his 
 hand as Jack started to speak " don't go running 
 off on any abstract theory of what's right and what 
 isn't. It's no use. It's waste of time. We've got 
 to look at this matter as it is not as perhaps it 
 ought to be. It's intensely practical for us, Jack, 
 and so let's look at it that way." 
 
 His words seemed effectual, as far as any further 
 protest from Jack Carleton was concerned. For a 
 moment he sat silent, and then, with an air of resig- 
 nation, mingled with a certain indifference, " Very 
 well," he said, " look at it in that way, if you choose, 
 for all of me. How does that help? The whole 
 thing's as mixed as before ; you can't solve it satis- 
 factorily, try as you may." 
 
 Henry Carleton, well pleased, drew a quiet 
 breath of satisfaction. So much, indeed, seemed 
 to him a signal gain. Little by little that was 
 Henry Carleton's way. " Good," he said shortly, 
 and then, " but it can be solved, Jack, for all that. 
 Not with perfect satisfaction to everybody, per- 
 haps ; but it can be solved." 
 
 308
 
 THE FAMILY NAME 
 
 He spoke with such an air of assurance that Jack 
 Carleton glanced at him quickly, as if seeking some 
 underlying significance in his words. Henry Carle- 
 ton's face, however, was devoid of anything of en- 
 lightenment, and his eyes were looking idly across 
 the room. " Yes," he repeated, " still satisfactorily, 
 in the main, I think. It's a pure question of logic, 
 Jack. Let's start with the assumption that if it 
 can be avoided, you're not eager to die." 
 
 Jack Carleton's eyebrows were raised half 
 grimly, half ruefully. Something of a kind of hys- 
 terical humor seemed to him to exist in the idea of 
 asking a man with such seriousness whether or not 
 he was eager to die. " Yes," he returned, " you 
 can assume that. That's a good point to start 
 with." 
 
 There was something in his tone, despite the 
 solemnity of the discussion, that made Henry Carle- 
 ton force a sickly smile, which faded almost before 
 it had come. " And second," he said, " you'll keep 
 quiet as long as any one else will." 
 
 Jack nodded again. " Certainly," he said, per- 
 haps with more of bitterness in his tone. 
 
 309
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 Henry Carleton leaned forward, looking him now 
 straight in the eye, and speaking with the most in- 
 tense earnestness. " Then take the parties involved 
 in their turn," he cried, " if you stick to that, no 
 harm can come from you. No harm will conic 
 from me, in any event. And Rose, of course, 
 doesn't know. Of the other two, Mrs. Satterlee " 
 he paused an instant, then continued, a little 
 hastily, as it seemed. " Perhaps there's no further 
 need of going into that. As we know, she is safe, 
 and if not, there are certain precautions no, we 
 may dismiss that entirely, I think. And that " 
 the pause was longer this time, " that leaves the 
 man who's been foolish enough to raise all this 
 trouble to start with. That leaves your friend, and 
 my prospective son-in-law, one man to be reck- 
 oned with Arthur Vaughan." 
 
 This time there was no mistaking the gathering 
 menace in his tone. But Jack Carleton seemed not 
 to choose to understand his words. " Well ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 Henry Carleton frowned. " Well," he snapped, 
 "isn't it perfectly plain? Vaughan wants some- 
 
 310
 
 THE FAMILY NAME 
 
 thing, of course. He's got us where he wants us 
 now. Of course I knew, for a man who, as a rule, 
 is so pliable, that when he turned stubborn about 
 this, it was a plain case of hold-up. So that's what 
 we've got to do. Square him, in any way he wants. 
 He's your friend. Sound him ; see what he's after. 
 Whatever it is, if I can give it to him, and I guess 
 I can, of course I will. Go ahead and see him right 
 away. We've got to fix him quickly, whatever else 
 we do." 
 
 Jack Carleton shook his head in vigorous dis- 
 sent. " You're miles wide of the mark. That isn't 
 Vaughan at all. He's not that kind. Arthur's a 
 visionary, almost. He'd never have kept quiet as 
 long as he has if I hadn't practically gone on my 
 knees to him. No, this is principle with him. 
 You're altogether mistaken. You can't stop him 
 that way in a thousand years." 
 
 Henry Carleton sighed. " I don't believe it," he 
 said stubbornly. " I don't want to believe it, but 
 you ought to know him better than I. And if it's 
 so I want to be fair with him more than 
 fair " at the familiar phrase Jack Carleton smiled
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 a grim Iktle smile " but we're in a bad box, Jack ; 
 a terribly bad box; and we've got to pull out of it 
 somehow. Make him the squarest offer you can 
 anything in reason he wants and if he doesn't see 
 fit to accept " 
 
 Jack Carleton sprang to his feet. " No, no," he 
 cried, " that won't do. I won't see anything happen 
 to Vaughan. I'll go to him ; tell him he's mistaken ; 
 tell him he mustn't speak ; tell him " 
 
 Henry Carleton cut him short. " No use, 
 Jack," he said curtly. "I've thought of all that. 
 It wouldn't do any good. In the first place, 
 Vaughan has this crazy idea about duty, and about 
 Satterlee's blood crying out to him from the ground, 
 and all that nonsense; you know how a nervous 
 man can get worked up over a thing; and he's 
 bound to speak anyway. And in the second place, 
 he wouldn't believe you. You can hardly blame 
 him, either. All the evidence together; the affair 
 you had with that woman, your stopping at the 
 cottage that evening, no, no, it won't do. You 
 might as well save your Breath." 
 
 There was a pause. Jack at last nodded grudg- 
 312
 
 THE FAMILY NAME 
 
 ingly. " Well, then," he cried. " I'll let it go the 
 other way. Let him go to the district attorney, if 
 he chooses. Let him tell his story, and let them 
 arrest me, and get me into court. Let him tell it 
 over again there, for everybody to hear, and you 
 can tell your story, and Jeanne Satterlee hers. And 
 then, by God, I'll tell mine, and if there's such a 
 thing as justice " 
 
 Again Henry Carleton broke in upon him. 
 " Nonsense, Jack," he said, " law isn't justice. You 
 know that as well as I do. You wouldn't have a 
 chance. It's open and shut against you. And don't 
 go up in the air about Vaughan; I didn't mean 
 to be melodramatic. We won't need to go to ex- 
 tremes. We can think up some way of keeping 
 his mouth shut. You can buy him off, I still main- 
 tain. And if you can't, we can still get at him 
 somehow. It isn't hard. I'll be frank with you, 
 Jack. I'll lay my cards on the table. It would 
 mean death for you, but the scandal would hurt 
 me, at the same time. And above all, the Carle- 
 ton name, Jack. Think of your father. Think " 
 
 Jack sprang to his feet. " Stop ! " he cried. " It
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 isn't for you to talk of my father, and the Carleton 
 name. Those words don't belong in your mouth, 
 Henry. And as for Vaughan, he's doing what he 
 thinks is right. And anything you do to him, reacts 
 on Rose on your own daughter. And that's im- 
 possible. No, Henry, I tell you again, you can't 
 work it out that way. Whatever else you please, 
 but I won't see harm come to Arthur Vaughan." 
 
 Henry Carleton, unmoved, shrugged his shoulders. 
 ** As you please," he answered evenly. " You have 
 your choice, Jack; there's only one other way." 
 
 Jack looked him full in the face. " For the last 
 time," he said, " you tell me that this is true. You'll 
 .go ahead, and do as you say ? " 
 
 The elder man inclined his head. " For the last 
 time," he answered calmly, " yes. Vaughan or 
 yourself? The choice is yours." 
 
 Jack Carleton stood suddenly erect, throwing 
 back his head, almost with the gesture of a fighter 
 on guard. " Then I tell you this," he cried, " you're 
 crowding me too far. I've done the best I could; 
 I've thought of others long enough; I'll think of 
 myself now. There's a limit to what a man's got
 
 THE FAMILY NAME 
 
 to stand. I've been an awful fool, I know. I've 
 wasted most of my life, so far; lost my money; 
 lost the chance to marry the girl I loved. But for 
 the last three years, I've got no apologies to make. 
 I've tried with every bit that's in me; I had my 
 fight all but won. I made good out West there; 
 made good with myself; with my prospects; with 
 the girl I meant to marry and then this damnable 
 business had to come. And I tell you, Henry, I 
 won't quit now. You've got the best of me before ; 
 perhaps you will again; but I'll take my chance. 
 I'm willing to back Right against Wrong, and I give 
 you fair warning now that I'm going to fight. You 
 haven't beaten me yet." 
 
 He swung short around upon his heel, without 
 waiting for a reply. The door crashed to behind 
 him, and Henry Carleton was left alone in the room. 
 
 315
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 IN THE BALANCE 
 
 "I trust in God, the right shall be the right 
 And other than the wrong, while he endures." 
 
 Browning. 
 
 HENRY CARLETON leaned back contentedly 
 in his office chair. The afternoon was draw- 
 ing to a close ; another good day's work was done ; 
 the pathway of the future lay bright before him. 
 Money? He had his fill of it. Except as the 
 trophy, the stakes in the game, for which, coolly and 
 half-disdain fully, it still suited him to play, he had 
 come scarcely to value it at all. Fame? That, 
 too, had come to him. His reputation, first made 
 in the city, had spread later throughout the state, 
 and now, thanks to that long and well-laid net of 
 carefully adjusted wires, was to become national 
 as well. Member-elect of the United States sen- 
 ate ! It was enough. Fame and power and 
 
 316
 
 IN THE BALANCE 
 
 patronage more glory to add to that of the long 
 line of ancestors whose dignified faces looked down 
 at him from the walls of the gallery at The 
 Birches. He had done well; he knew it; and was 
 content. Nor was he an old man yet. A glorious 
 prospect lay before him still, filled with pleasures 
 of many kinds. Only this one matter to be ad- 
 justed now, and whichever way fate tipped the 
 scales, he could not lose. How pleasant it was to 
 look back over all his struggles with Jack! How 
 pleasant to know, with the lifelong enmity between 
 them, that in every encounter, he had decisively 
 outwitted and got the better of his nephew! And 
 now either Jack must suffer, or if Vaughan's 
 silence could not be bought, Jack's scruples must 
 somehow be overcome. The latter, of course, 
 everything considered, would be the better way. 
 For Jack much as he hated him was a Carle- 
 ton, and Jack's fate, in a way, was bound up with 
 his own. And Vaughan was a nobody, a mere 
 scribbler, of no use to the world. He must be 
 silenced somehow. Yet there was danger too. 
 In spite of himself, the matter troubled him. 
 
 317
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 As he sat, thus musing, his clerk appeared at his 
 elbow. " A young lady to see you, sir," he an- 
 nounced, " Miss Graham, from Eversley. I showed 
 her into the private office." 
 
 Carleton nodded. " All right," he answered 
 briefly. " Tell her I'll see her at once," and a mo- 
 ment or so later he was bowing deferentially over 
 the girl's outstretched hand. " I'm delighted to see 
 you back, Miss Graham," he said cordially, " if I 
 thought a trip abroad would do me the good it's done 
 you, I'd start to-morrow. You're looking splen- 
 didly. And what may I do for you? Is this a 
 business call ? " 
 
 The girl shook her head. " No, Mr. Carleton," 
 she returned, " it's not ; and I should apologize, I 
 know, for coming to see you at your office. Yet 
 I didn't want to go to The Birches either. I wanted 
 to ask I want to see you, Mr. Carleton about 
 Jack." 
 
 She paused, and as he waited, she did not at 
 once continue, but sat with her eyes fixed on the 
 ground, as if embarrassed, and uncertain how to 
 proceed. So that presently he broke the silence.
 
 IN THE BALANCE 
 
 " And what about Jack? " he asked lightly, though 
 his watchful gaze was upon her face, " I rather 
 thought that you and Jack could settle your own 
 affairs. But if you can't " 
 
 She glanced up quickly. " Oh, don't joke, Mr. 
 Carleton, please," she said, " you wouldn't, if you 
 knew how anxious I am. I can't seem to under- 
 stand it at all. You know what good friends Jack 
 and I always were; we were more than that; you 
 know what I mean. And then something hap- 
 pened. That was when Jack went West. And I 
 was so glad when I heard how well he'd done 
 how well, I mean, in every way and when he 
 came back, everything would have been all right 
 again. I had written him and he'd written me. 
 We had everything arranged. He was to meet the 
 steamer in New York. And then when we got 
 in, he wasn't there. Only a message at the hotel 
 that he'd been called away on business, and would 
 see me soon. And that was a week ago; and I 
 haven't seen him, or even heard from him, since then. 
 I've asked all his friends. Franz Helmar doesn't 
 know anything about him. Neither does Rose. And 
 
 319
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 when I asked Arthur Vaughan, he acted as if he 
 knew something, but didn't want to tell me what it 
 was. So I've come to you, Mr. Carleton. If 
 there's something about Jack that I don't know, and 
 that I ought to know, I want you to tell me." 
 
 Henry Carleton sat listening to her, as she talked, 
 his face expressionless, yet keenly attentive, all the 
 while. And as she ended, he hesitated, before 
 replying, as if struggling with some inward temp- 
 tation which finally, in spite of himself, overcame 
 him. At length he spoke. " My dear Miss 
 Graham," he said, " I am so many years older 
 than you, that I'm going to ask you to let me 
 give you a piece of advice. I have felt uneasy 
 very uneasy for a long time, concerning Jack's 
 attentions to you. Not, of course, that one could 
 blame him " the girl ignored the somewhat me- 
 chanical smile which accompanied the words 
 " but the man who aspires to win your hand, Miss 
 Graham, should be of a type very different from my 
 nephew. I'm not talking at random; I know 
 whereof I speak ; and as a friend, I want to tell you 
 that it would be better for you to forget all about 
 
 320 
 

 
 IN THE BALANCE 
 
 Jack not to try to find out anything concerning 
 him but to dismiss him entirely from your mind. 
 And I don't think " he added significantly, "that 
 you will find yourself troubled by him any more." 
 
 The girl's expression was one of bewilderment. 
 " Troubled by him," she repeated. " Jack trouble 
 me. You don't understand, Mr. Carleton. I 
 haven't made myself clear. I'm as fond of Jack as 
 he is of me. I've promised to be his wife. And 
 all I'm asking now is what has happened to keep 
 him away from me. There's some mystery about 
 it, and I want to know what it is." 
 
 Henry Carleton gave a little apologetic cough. 
 " Really, my dear Miss Graham," he said, " you 
 make this very hard for me. I was trying to inti- 
 mate, without putting things too plainly I 
 thought you would understand you know that 
 Jack's character is none of the strongest ; you know 
 his weaknesses as well as I do. You don't want me 
 to go on, Miss Graham, I know. Why should I 
 pain you? Let us leave things as they are." 
 
 At last the girl seemed to comprehend, yet she 
 did not take his words without protest. " Jack 
 
 321
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 isn't weak," she cried indignantly, " you've no right 
 to say that, Mr. Carleton. If you knew all that 
 he's conquered all that he's overcome you'd 
 know that he's strong, not weak. And please don't 
 hint or insinuate about him; this is too serious for 
 that. If you've something to say against him, say 
 it. Don't half say it, and then stop. It's neither 
 fair to him, nor to me." 
 
 Henry Carleton raised his eyebrows. " As you 
 will," he responded evenly, " I only sought to spare 
 you, Miss Graham. But if you want me to tell 
 you, I suppose you know as well as any one that 
 before Jack went away, he'd made himself con- 
 spicuous by going around in public with the girl 
 who later married my chauffeur, Satterlee. There 
 was nothing improper, I believe, about it all ; simply 
 a bit of boyish folly and bravado; nothing worse. 
 But on Jack's return I don't know, of course, 
 what his life in the West has been; I suppose that 
 perhaps one might hazard a guess he fell in with 
 this woman again, and this time I'm speaking 
 plainly, Miss Graham, because you've asked me to 
 -this time their relations have passed the bounds 
 322
 
 IN THE BALANCE 
 
 of decency. He visits her openly. And that, I 
 suppose, is the reason that he keeps away from 
 you." 
 
 A little red spot flamed in the girl's cheeks. 
 " It's not true ! " she cried, " I don't believe it not 
 a word. I know Jack too well. No man could 
 have written me the letters he has it's a lie ; a 
 lie ! " Face and figure alike were tense and rigid 
 with emotion. 
 
 Henry Carleton's eyes gleamed, yet when he 
 spoke, his tone was calm. " My dear Miss 
 Graham," he said, " pardon me for suggesting it, 
 but isn't your conduct rather extraordinary. You 
 come here, in my office hours, knowing that I am 
 a busy man a man of varied interests you 
 come here, on your private affairs, which surely 
 have no special interest for me and then, upon 
 my giving you all the assistance in my power, you 
 inform me that I lie. Really, Miss Graham " 
 
 The girl rose quickly, yet her expression seemed 
 to show little of contrition. " I beg your pardon, 
 if I was rude," she said, "you are quite right to 
 
 323
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 remind me that I am taking up your time. I will 
 go at once." 
 
 She did not give him her hand in parting, nor 
 did he stir from where he stood, as she walked 
 toward the door of the office. Before she reached 
 it, he spoke again. "If you care," he said 
 smoothly, " to hear the rest " 
 
 She turned upon him. " I do not," she said, " I 
 care to hear nothing more. And you say, upon 
 your honor, that what you've told me is true? " 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. " You're very hard 
 to convince," he said. " I don't blame you. It's 
 not a pleasant thing to hear. But it is true. He's 
 not away on business. He goes there constantly. 
 In fact, if you care to see him, I dare say you would 
 find him there now." 
 
 The words struck home. For an instant the girl 
 stood gazing at him, as if she would have spoken; 
 then quickly turned, and left the room. 
 
 A chance shaft sometimes cleaves to the very 
 center of the mark. At the hour and minute 
 
 324
 
 IN THE BALANCE 
 
 when Marjory Graham was leaving Henry 
 Carleton's office, Jack Carleton sat with Jeanne 
 Satterlee in the parlor of the little cottage at 
 Eversley. His face was pale and drawn, and he 
 was talking tensely, earnestly, evidently striving, 
 with all the power within him, to convince and per- 
 suade with his words. The woman sat with her 
 eyes averted, as if she listened half against her 
 will. Three years of life had wrought their change. 
 She was beautiful beyond all question more 
 beautiful than ever; and yet a nameless something 
 had crept into her face hardly to be detected, 
 even a certain look of restlessness of discon- 
 tent a vague change for the worse. 
 
 " And so, Jeanne," Carleton concluded, " that's 
 all I ask. I say nothing about that panic in the stock 
 market I say nothing about the property. You 
 know, and I know, what he did, and how he did it; 
 I got it all out of that sneak, Cummings; but all 
 that's past and done with now. Even if I wanted 
 to make the scandal, I'm not sure that he's answer- 
 able legally; he's a wonderfully clever man. And 
 I say nothing about poor Vaughan, and his book. 
 
 325
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 You know, and I know, how he worked that with 
 Cummings, but once more, that's done with now. 
 And Vaughan's come into his own, at last. But 
 about the other thing, that's different, Jeanne. 
 You must speak. You can't say that you won't, 
 where it's life and death. You must do it, Jeanne; 
 I've a right to make my fight; you must" 
 
 There was a pause. And then the woman spoke. 
 " I can't, Jack," she parried, " I promised. I 
 wouldn't dare " 
 
 He interrupted' her. " Promised ! " he echoed. 
 "What's a promise wrung out of one by force? 
 Nothing. You can't mean you'd let that stop you, 
 Jeanne." 
 
 She looked up at him, with appeal in her glance. 
 " Jack," she said desperately, " I'll tell you the 
 truth. I'm afraid. Afraid he'd kill me. You're 
 a man; you're strong, and could fight You don't 
 know how a woman dreads anything like that. He 
 said that night he'd kill me, if I told. And I prom- 
 ised I promised, Jack." 
 
 Carleton gave an impatient sigh. " Nonsense, 
 Jeanne," he said sharply, " he wouldn't dare. 
 
 326
 
 IN THE BALANCE 
 
 He only threatened, to frighten you. You of all 
 people. And can't you see? He couldn't afford 
 to, if he would. Where's his hold on me, then? 
 Tell him, Jeanne, what you're going to do, and then 
 go away, if you're frightened ; go somewhere where 
 you'll be safe. Go straight to Marjory Graham, 
 why don't you, and stay with her." 
 
 " Yes," she flamed, " go to Marjory Graham ! 
 That's just like a man. You don't think of me, 
 Jack, at all. Tell her everything! That's such an 
 easy thing to say. You don't think of the shame 
 the disgrace " 
 
 Carleton rose, and walking across the room, laid 
 a hand upon her shoulder, looking down into her 
 face, as he answered her. " Jeanne," he said, 
 wearily, " we've been over this so many times that 
 there's no use in saying anything more. Only this. 
 I'm not asking you to do this for me, or for Mar- 
 jory, or for Arthur, or for Rose, though if you do 
 it, you'll be doing it for all four of us at once. 
 That isn't the point. A man gets to thinking pretty 
 hard when he's in a fix like mine, and his own life 
 dwindles down to something that doesn't count for 
 
 327
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 much, after all. But I tell you this, Jeanne, and 
 you can call it preaching, and laugh at it, if you 
 choose, but it's so: there's only one thing in the 
 world worth doing, after all, and that's to try to 
 keep as near to what's right and fair as we can. 
 People can disagree about lots of things you 
 can criticize my life, and I can criticize yours 
 
 but some things are so plain that there's no 
 chance to differ about what's right and what's 
 wrong. And the trouble we're in now is one of 
 them. You ought to tell Arthur Vaughan. You 
 ought to tell Marjory. And then your part is done. 
 You can leave the rest to fate. But to keep silence 
 now, because of a promise that was forced from you 
 
 it isn't square it's upsetting the belief that 
 every one ought to have : that in the end the right's 
 a better thing than the wrong. And, Jeanne, I 
 tell you this once more. If you won't do what 
 you ought to do; if you still keep silence; I tell you 
 this: I won't see harm come to Arthur Vaughan. 
 I won't see Rose's life spoiled. There's one thing 
 I could do, and that's to put myself out of the way, 
 and stop everything; but that would be cowardly, I 
 
 328
 
 IN THE BALANCE 
 
 suppose. No, I'll make my fight, but you know as 
 well as I do, that it's a losing one. My life is in 
 your hands, Jeanne, and I've a right to ask you to 
 do what's fair. I've tried, for three years now, as 
 hard as a man could try. I'll never be anything 
 famous in the world I know that but I've a 
 right to want to bring some credit to my father's 
 name, even if it's only by living an honest life, to 
 marry, and to pass the name down to some one that 
 can do better with it than I've done. That's all, 
 Jeanne. And there are only two days left. That's 
 as long as Vaughan will wait. So you've got to 
 make up your mind quick. Think it over, Jeanne, 
 and for every one's sake, be fair." 
 
 She rose from her chair, shaking off his hand. 
 "I'm afraid, Jack;" she said once more, "I'm 
 afraid." 
 
 Carleton's hand fumbled in his pocket ; then, find- 
 ing what he sought, he handed it to the girl. The 
 light flickered upon the polished barrel. " You 
 could use it ? " he asked. The girl nodded. 
 " Then you've no reason to fear him," he said. 
 " Tell him, Jeanne, when he comes to-morrow night, 
 
 329
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 and then you go straight to Marjory's, and tell her 
 too." 
 
 She looked up quickly, as if seeking to make one 
 last plea. " You ask too much, Jack," she cried. 
 " If I had my life over but I haven't. I've lived 
 out all that was ever good in me; there's only one 
 kind of life left for me now. And he's been good 
 to me given me everything. And think of all I 
 lose. All the life I'd see down there. All the 
 money. All the good times. You're not a woman, 
 Jack. You don't understand. Think of the 
 fun" 
 
 Once more he laid his hand upon her shoulder. 
 " Is it worth it, Jeanne? " he said. 
 
 330
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 REPARATION 
 
 " Whoever fights, whoever falls, 
 Justice conquers evermore." 
 
 Emerson. 
 
 THE butler had withdrawn to superintend the 
 bringing in of the dinner's final course. Hel- 
 mar, with his hand outstretched toward his wine 
 glass, for a moment hesitated, and looking first 
 at Rose and then at Vaughan, came to a puzzled, 
 half-humorous pause. " I realize," he said, " that 
 this is the proper time for a toast, yet my tongue 
 is tied. Not through diffidence, either. I never 
 have stage fright, and I know exactly what I'm 
 going to say. In fact, I've been working all 
 day on it, and if anything should happen now to 
 prevent me from inflicting it on you, it would be 
 the bitterest of disappointments to me, I mean. 
 But the question of proper precedence is what I 
 
 331
 
 can't make up my mind about. For the life of me, 
 I don't know whether I ought to drink first to Rose, 
 and reserve a separate glass for our rising author 
 here, or whether my first duty is to drink to you 
 both, in celebration of your engagement's being 
 formally made public to-morrow. By the latter 
 plan, you see, I'm forced to drink alone, which is 
 always bad ; by the former, I manage to be in good 
 company each time. And on the whole, I believe 
 that's the proper way. So here goes. Arthur, I 
 propose the health of Miss Rose Carleton. In 
 order not to embarass her, I intend to refrain from 
 any fulsome praise, merely observing that the fact 
 that she is herself, suffices for everything. Youth, 
 beauty, virtue; Arthur, you're a fortunate man, and 
 the only drawback to the whole affair is the horde 
 of envious enemies you're going to make for your- 
 self. But that you'll have to stand for; and the 
 reward is certainly worth it." 
 
 He bowed with exaggerated deference as he con- 
 cluded, and the girl, laughing, softly clapped her 
 hands. "Oh, beautiful, beautiful, Franz," she 
 cried, " I'm overcome. I suppose I ought to re- 
 
 332
 
 REPARATION 
 
 spond, but in the presence of two such distinguished 
 beings, I'm actually dumb. But, believe me, Mr. 
 Toastmaster, I deeply appreciate your effort. It's 
 fully worth all the time you must have spent on 
 it." 
 
 Vaughan, touching his glass to Helmar's, laughed 
 also. " There, Franz," he cried, " isn't that a fit- 
 ting reward? And as for your enemies, and their 
 envy, let them come, all of them. I'm safe; noth- 
 ing matters now," and the look in Rose Carleton's 
 eyes, as their glances met, was more eloquent than 
 any response could have been. 
 
 The toast drunk, Helmar turned to the girl. 
 " And now, Rose," he said, " actually words fail. 
 Here comes the really difficult part. How shall we 
 try to describe such greatness? The literary man; 
 the author fairly launched; the coming all-around 
 novelist of the century, who has shown himself a 
 romanticist by aspiring to the hand of Miss 
 Carleton and a realist by winning it. There, how 
 does that suit you ? Will that do ? " 
 
 The girl smiled. " Indeed it will," she answered. 
 " But if it's permissible ever to amend a toast, even 
 
 333
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 such a good one as that, I'm going to venture to do 
 it. Something so nice happened to-day. Tell him, 
 Arthur, do." 
 
 Vaughan shook his head. " Not I," he an- 
 swered, " I wouldn't dare. I'm having a hard 
 enough time as it is, trying to make all these 
 remarkable things seem real. I still \valk around 
 pinching myself, and pulling out letters and tele- 
 grams and re-reading them, to make sure they're 
 genuine, after all. But if I should start to talk, I'd 
 know I was a liar before I said five words. I don't 
 mind listening, though, a bit. Go ahead and tell 
 him, Rose, if you want to, and I'll sit still and try to 
 look the part of modest but intensely deserving 
 merit. That's the best I can do." 
 
 Rose turned eagerly to Helmar. " Well, then," 
 she cried, " he got word to-day. The book's gone 
 into a third large edition. In three months! And 
 his first book! Think of it. And he's had more 
 fine letters and notices, besides. And two other 
 magazines have writ-ten to see if he has any short 
 stories he'd let them see. So he's going to be a 
 great success, and I'm awfully proud of him, and 
 
 334
 
 REPARATION 
 
 when we drink our toast, I want it to be to the 
 author, the book and the third edition." 
 
 Helmar nodded in vigorous assent. " By all 
 means," he exclaimed, " if all amendments were 
 as good as that one, no maker of an original motion 
 could ever object. We'll drink to the third edition, 
 of course, and I hope, before we're done, there'll 
 be thirty of them. There," he added, as he put 
 down his glass, " my pleasant duty's done, and I 
 think I may claim well done. Unless, Arthur, you 
 can think of anything I've omitted." 
 
 Vaughan shook his head. " No, no," he an- 
 swered, " you Ve been a great success ; said a lot 
 of things about us both that aren't true, and suc- 
 cessfully reduced us to just the proper stage of un- 
 comfortable embarrassment." 
 
 Helmar laughed. " It's a pity, though," he said, 
 " that we didn't have our full attendance. Think 
 of all the other nice things I might have had a 
 chance to say. Wasted opportunities. Marjory 
 unable to come; Jack kept away on business; Mr. 
 Carleton started for his big time in town. That is 
 a banquet, though, with a vengeance, isn't it! 
 
 335
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 Think of it; United States Senator ! But of course 
 every one knew he'd make it. I never saw such a 
 man. Success in everything. He's certainly a 
 wonder. You must feel awfully proud of him, 
 Rose." 
 
 She nodded gaily. "Of course I do," she an- 
 swered. " We must drink his health, anyway. He 
 deserves it. What shall we say? The man who 
 has brought new honors to the Carleton name ! " 
 
 As they drank the toast, the butler entered with 
 the coffee and cigars, and the girl rose, smiling 
 down at Vaughan. . " Don't be too long, now," she 
 said, " remember I'm all alone." 
 
 As the portieres closed behind her, Helmar 
 turned to Vaughan. " Well, Arthur," he said, 
 " you're certainly a lucky man. Engaged to such a 
 girl as Rose, and fairly on your literary feet into the 
 bargain. It's fine about the book. I didn't realize 
 it was doing so well." 
 
 Vaughan nodded. " It was queer," he said 
 meditatively, " about the whole thing. I guess I 
 ought to be ashamed of myself for claiming, once 
 upon a time, that there was a pull in literature. 
 
 336
 
 REPARATION 
 
 Because look how it worked with me. There I 
 had Mr. Carleton using all his influence, and three 
 times that book was turned down. And then, just 
 because Jack kept after me to do it, when I took 
 the manuscript back and began plugging ahead with 
 it on my own account, just see what happened. 
 It was accepted the very next crack." 
 
 Helmar puffed thoughtfully at his cigar. " It 
 does look that way," he assented, then, after a little 
 pause, he asked abruptly, " Arthur, how about Jack 
 and Marjory? Was it just a coincidence they 
 didn't come to-night, or was it something more than 
 that? I don't believe they're hitting things off, 
 somehow. And Jack himself I never saw a 
 fellow so changed. Ever since that time he was 
 out at The Birches he has seemed awfully down on 
 his luck. I was wondering " 
 
 Vaughan rose quickly. " Oh, he's worried about 
 his business, I think that's all." Then added 
 abruptly, " Would you mind smoking in the other 
 room, Franz? Rose doesn't object, and I hate to 
 leave her alone." 
 
 Helmar rose also. "Of course not," he said, 
 337
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 " why didn't you say so sooner ? Let's go right 
 in." 
 
 Half way down the hall, Henry Carleton's valet 
 approached them, a letter in his outstretched hand. 
 " For you, Mr. Vaughan," he said. 
 
 Vaughan, taking the letter, hastily opened it, and 
 read its contents. A puzzled frown wrinkled his 
 forehead. " H'm," he muttered, "that's queer," 
 and as they entered the parlor, he spoke at once to 
 his fiancee. " Rose," he said, " I'm sorry, but 
 everything about to-night seems to be fated. First 
 our guests disappoint us, and now I'm called away 
 myself. But only for an hour. I'll be back just 
 as soon as I can." 
 
 The girl's face clouded. " Oh, no, Arthur," she 
 cried, " not to-night. You oughtn't to go to-night, 
 no matter who it is. Tell them to wait " 
 
 He broke in upon her. " I'm sorry, my dear," 
 he said gravely, " but this is something that can't be 
 delayed. I must go at once." 
 
 There was no misunderstanding his tone. " All 
 right, then, Arthur," she said, " but be back as soon 
 as you can," and nodding, he left the room. 
 
 338
 
 REPARATION 
 
 The waiting motor made short work of the dis- 
 tance between The Birches and Colonel Graham's 
 home; and a short half hour later Vaughan was 
 ushered across the threshold of the big drawing- 
 room. Marjory Graham came forward to meet 
 him, and then, as she led the way across the room, 
 he stared in surprise at the sight of the sec- 
 ond figure that rose From the seat by the open 
 fire. Yet Marjory Graham seemed to see nothing 
 unusual in the situation. " I think you know Mrs. 
 Satterlee, Arthur," she said, and Vaughan, his 
 wonderment increasing every moment, bowed, and 
 took his seat. 
 
 The lights were turned low; only the firelight 
 flickered and gleamed about the room. Marjory 
 Graham reached out and took the woman's hand 
 in hers. " Tell him, Jeanne," she said. 
 
 There followed a pause, and then at last, slowly 
 and with evident effort, Jeanne Satterlee began to 
 speak. " Mr. Vaughan," she said, " the fewer 
 words the better. You've made up your mind to 
 tell the story of that night. If it's going to be told, 
 it must be the true one. I've promised Jack to tell 
 
 339
 
 THE GARLETON CASE 
 
 what I know to Miss Graham and to you. I've al- 
 ready told her." 
 
 She paused, while Vatighan sat waiting breath- 
 lessly, his eyes fixed upon her face. And then 
 she spoke again. " There's no need to ask you," 
 she went on, " whether you remember all that hap- 
 pened on that night. You remember how you were 
 all together at The Birches; how Jack said he was 
 going to bed early ; how you and Miss Rose sat out 
 on the piazza; how Mr. Carleton played billiards 
 with Jim Cummings, and then how he came down 
 and told you he was going for a walk about the 
 grounds. You remember every bit of that, of 
 course ? " 
 
 Vaughan assented silently. "And then," she 
 went on, " you went for a stroll yourself; you came 
 to the rock opposite the cottage, and saw Tom when 
 he came in. You heard the noise; you saw some 
 one run out of the house, with Tom after him; and 
 then you saw Tom fall, and a minute afterward 
 you saw Jack bending over him, with Tom's head 
 on his knee." 
 
 Again she stopped for his assent; again Vaughan 
 340
 
 REPARATION 
 
 nodded ; and once more she continued, " You 
 thought it was Jack who was in my room; you 
 thought it was Jack who ran from the cottage. And 
 no ne could blame you, Mr. Vaughan, for what you 
 thought. But I'm going to tell you the true story 
 of that night to my shame. Jack Carleton 
 wasn't in the cottage; there was never anything 
 between Jack and me though I tried never 
 mind, I've told Mis-s Graham but there was some 
 one in my room that night, and that man was the 
 father of the girl whom you are going to marry." 
 
 Vaughan's heart seemed -to stop beating; there 
 came a ringing in his ears ; his voice, when he 
 spoke, sounded faint and far-away. " Henry Carle- 
 ton ? " he gasped. 
 
 Jeanne Satterlee bowed her head. " I said the 
 fewer words the better," she went on. " It wasn't 
 the first time. Things had been that way for 
 nearly two years." 
 
 Vaughan's face flushed with anger. " Henry 
 Carleton ! " he cried again, " it's impossible. How 
 dare you say it ? " 
 
 Jeanne Satterlee's tone did not alter, its very 
 341
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 calmness carrying conviction with it. " It's true," 
 she said, " every word. And more, Mr. Vaughan, 
 that you will never know. It's all true. Jack 
 knows " 
 
 Vaughan started at the name. " But how did 
 Jack " he began. She broke in upon him. 
 " Jack suspected," she answered. " He saw me at 
 the cottage that afternoon. He talked with Tom. 
 He put two and two together. And you know what 
 he thinks of his uncle, anyway. So he came 
 down to the cottage that evening, early. He was 
 hidden outside. And after Henry Carleton got 
 away he struck Tom from behind to do it 
 then Jack came down into the drive to help Tom 
 and you had to see him. And that was all." 
 
 Vaughan sat as if stunned. " My God ! " he mut- 
 tered, under his breath, " my God ! " 
 
 Once more Mrs. Satterlee broke the silence. 
 " And then," she said, " you went to Henry Carle- 
 ton, and told him what you thought you knew. 
 And he sat there, and listened to you telling him 
 that Jack did the murder. He came to the cottage 
 that night. He was furious. He'd have killed you, 
 
 342
 
 REPARATION 
 
 I truly believe, if he'd dared. He threatened me, 
 even. He told me I must stick to the story that 
 Jack was in my rooms, and murdered Tom; and 
 that he'd see that no harm came to Jack ; that money 
 could do anything; that he'd get Jack out of the 
 country; and that it would be better for every 
 one; and I was frightened and promised. And 
 then" 
 
 Gradually, as she talked, the whole sequence of 
 events had been shaping in Vaughan's brain. And 
 now, all at once, and more to himself than to the 
 others, he voiced his thoughts in words. " I see ; 
 I see ; " he cried ; " that was why I could never 
 seem to believe it. Poor Jack! Poor Jack! Oh, 
 what a fool I've been ! " 
 
 Again he was silent, and she concluded. " And 
 then Jack came to me I did all this for him 
 don't think it was easy for me. And I told Henry 
 to-night, before I came here. He was going in 
 town, and came to the cottage first. And I told 
 him with a loaded pistol in my hand. He 
 wouldn't believe me at first. He never knew that 
 I that I was fond of Jack and when he 
 
 343
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 realized I was in earnest, I thought he was going 
 out of his mind. I never saw a man so changed. 
 He said I'd ruined him ruined his whole life 
 and then, all at once, he put his hand to his 
 head, and stopped right in the middle of what he 
 was saying, and turned, and went away. And I 
 came here, to keep my promise. I told Jack to 
 come here at eight; he ought to be here now." 
 
 Vaughan pulled out his watch. " Quarter past/' 
 he said, " I suppose he'll be here soon." 
 
 Marjory Graham turned to him. " Mr. Carle- 
 ton lied to me, Arthur," she said, " tried to make 
 me believe awful things of Jack. And I knew I 
 knew all the time that he lied. Think of it. 
 Think how Jack " 
 
 Vaughan nodded, yet even on the instant an- 
 other thought flashed through his mind. " But, 
 Rose ! " he cried, " I never thought. Rose ! Good 
 God!" 
 
 " I know ; I know ; " cried the girl, " I've been 
 thinking about her. You mustn't speak now, 
 Arthur. Jack didn't, even before he knew. And 
 you mustn't. It would kill Rose." 
 
 344
 
 REPARATION 
 
 Vaughan drew a long beath. " Marjory " he 
 began, but the sentence was never finished. A 
 quick step sounded in the hall outside, and Jack 
 Carleton came hastily into the room. In an in- 
 stant, as if unmindful of all else, Marjory Graham 
 had risen, and crossed the room, her face trans- 
 figured " Oh, Jack ! " she cried, " Jack ! " 
 
 For a moment he drew her to him ; then, without 
 speaking, his arm still around her, came forward 
 to meet the others. Vaughan, too, had risen, and 
 stood with outstretched hand. " Jack," he said, 
 " I never knew I never dreamed can you for- 
 give me ? " 
 
 In answer Carleton took his friend's hand in his, 
 yet without uttering a word. His face was hag- 
 gard, his eyes wild. Jeanne Satterlee started to 
 her feet. "What is it, Jack?" she cried, "some- 
 thing's wrong." 
 
 Carleton looked from one to the other, moisten- 
 ing his lips with his tongue before at last the words 
 would come. " It's Henry," he said hoarsely, 
 " he's dead. At the station. He fell in front of 
 the train. He slipped an accident - 
 
 345
 
 THE CARLETON CASE 
 
 For an instant there fell silence utter ; horror- 
 stricken. And then Vaughan's eyes sought Carle- 
 ton's face. He spoke in a tone scarcely above a 
 whisper. "An accident " he said. 
 
 Carleton met his gaze squarely. The silence 
 deepened ; and then, " An accident," he said again, 
 " he must have thought of Rose and the Carle- 
 ton name. And Rose must never know." 
 
 Assentingly Vaughan bowed his head ; then stood, 
 gazing straight before him, a dawning horror in 
 his eyes. Jeanne Satterlee sank back in her chair, 
 covering her face with her hands. Drawing a long 
 breath, Carleton seemed again to come to himself. 
 Very gently he drew Marjory closer to his side. 
 Neither spoke, for no words were needed. Her 
 glance told him all that he wished' to know; he bent 
 over her, and their lips met. 
 
 THE END
 
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