"Afraid?"

"Nan--I'm the happiest cripple on earth."

So she went softly out and closed the door. But it was not to sleep. As for the man she left behind, his eyes looked into the smouldering fire till well toward morning. It was not the doctor's prescription, but it was the beginning of his cure.

III

THEIR WORD OF HONOUR

The president of the Great B---- railway system laid down the letter he had just re-read three times, and turned about in his chair with an expression of annoyance.

"I wish it were possible," he said slowly, "to find one boy or man in a thousand who would receive instructions and carry them out to the letter without a single variation from the course laid down. Cornelius"--he looked up sharply at his son, who sat at a desk close by--"I hope you are carrying out my ideas with regard to your sons. I've not seen much of them lately. The lad Cyrus seems to me a promising fellow, but I'm not so sure of Cornelius. He appears to be acquiring a sense of his own importance as Cornelius Woodbridge, 3d, which is not desirable, sir--not desirable. By the way, Cornelius, have you yet applied the Hezekiah Woodbridge test to your boys?"

Cornelius Woodbridge, Junior, looked up from his work with a smile. "No, I haven't, father," he said.

"It's a family tradition, and if the proper care has been taken that the boys should not learn of it, it will be as much of a test for them as it was for you and for me, and for my father. You have not forgotten the day I gave it to you, Cornelius?"

"That would be impossible," said his son, still smiling.

The elder man's somewhat stern features relaxed, and he sat back in his chair with a chuckle. "Do it at once," he requested, "and make it a stiff one. You know their characteristics; give it to them hard. I feel pretty sure of Cyrus, but Cornelius----" He shook his head doubtfully and returned to his letter. Suddenly he wheeled about again.

"Do it Thursday, Cornelius," he said in his peremptory way, "and whichever one of them stands it shall go with us on the tour of inspection. That will be reward enough, I fancy."

"Very well, sir," replied his son, and the two men went on with their work without further words. They were in the habit of dispatching important business with the smallest possible waste of breath.

On Thursday morning, immediately after breakfast, Cyrus Woodbridge found himself summoned to his father's library. He presented himself at once, a round-cheeked, bright-eyed lad of fifteen, with an air of alertness in every line of him.

"Cyrus," said his father, "I have a commission for you to undertake, of a character which I cannot now explain to you. I want you to take this envelope"--he held out a large and bulky packet--"and without saying anything to any one follow its instructions to the letter. I ask of you your word of honour that you will do so."

The two pairs of eyes looked into each other for a moment, singularly alike in a certain intent expression, developed into great keenness in the man, but showing as yet only an extreme wide-awakeness in the boy.

Cyrus Woodbridge had an engagement with a young friend in half an hour, but he responded firmly:

"I will, sir."

"On your honour?"

"Yes, sir."

"That is all I want. Go to your room and read your instructions. Then start at once."

Mr. Woodbridge turned back to his desk with the nod and smile of dismissal to which Cyrus was accustomed. The boy went to his room, opening the envelope as soon as he had closed the door. It was filled with smaller envelopes, numbered in regular order. Enfolding these was a typewritten paper which read as follows:

Go to the reading-room of the Westchester Library. There open Env. No. 1. Remember to hold all instructions secret. C. W., Jr.

Cyrus whistled. "That's funny!" he thought. "And it means my date with Harold is off. Well, here goes!"

On his way out he stopped to telephone his friend of his detention, took a Westchester Avenue car at the nearest point, and in twenty minutes was at the library. He found an obscure corner and opened "Env. No. 1."

Go to office of W. K. Newton, Room 703, seventh floor, Norwalk Building, X Street, reaching there by 9:30 A. M. Ask for letter addressed to Cornelius Woodbridge, Jr. On way down elevator open Env. No. 2. C. W., Jr.

Cyrus began to laugh. At the same time he felt a trifle irritated.

"What's father at?" he questioned, in perplexity. "Here I am away uptown, and he orders me back to the Norwalk Building. I pa.s.sed it on my way up. Must be he made a mistake. Told me to obey instructions, though.

He usually knows just about why he does things."

Meanwhile Mr. Woodbridge had sent for his elder son, Cornelius. A tall youth of seventeen, with the strong family features, varied by a droop in the eyelids and a slight drawl in the speech, lounged to the door of the library. Before entering he straightened his shoulders; he did not, however, quicken his pace.

"Cornelius," said his father promptly, "I wish to send you upon an errand of some importance, but of possible inconvenience to you. I have not time to give you instructions, but you will find them in this envelope. I ask you to keep the matter and your movements strictly to yourself. May I have from you your word of honour that I can trust you to follow the orders to the smallest detail?"

Cornelius put on a pair of eyegla.s.ses, and held out his hand for the envelope. His manner was nonchalant to the point of indifference.

Mr. Woodbridge withheld the packet and spoke with decision:

"I cannot allow you to look at the instructions until I have your word of honour that you will fulfil them."

"Isn't that asking a good deal, sir?"

"Perhaps so," said Mr. Woodbridge, "but no more than is asked of trusted messengers every day. I will a.s.sure you that the instructions are mine and represent my wishes."

"How long will it take?" inquired Cornelius, stooping to flick an imperceptible spot of dust from his trousers.

"I do not find it necessary to tell you." Something in his father's voice sent the languid Cornelius to an erect position and quickened his speech.

"Of course I will go," he said, but he did not speak with enthusiasm.

"And--your word of honour?"

"Certainly, sir." The hesitation before the promise was momentary.

"Very well. I will trust you. Go to your room before opening your instructions."

And the second somewhat mystified boy went out of the library on that memorable Thursday morning, to find his first order one which sent him to a remote district of the city, with the direction to arrive there within three quarters of an hour.

Out on an electric car Cyrus was speeding to another suburb. After getting the letter from the seventh floor of the Norwalk Building, he had read:

Take cross-town car on L Street, transfer to Louisville Avenue, and go out to Kingston Heights. Find corner West and Dwight streets and open Env. No. 3. C. W. Jr.

Cyrus was growing more and more puzzled, but he was also getting interested. At the corner specified he hurriedly tore open No. 3, but found, to his amazement, only the singular direction:

Take Suburban Elevated Road for Duane Street Station. From there go to _Sentinel_ Office and secure third edition of yesterday's paper. Open Env. No. 4. C. W. Jr.

"Well, what under the sun, moon, and stars did he send me out to Kingston Heights for?" cried Cyrus aloud. He caught the next train, thinking longingly of his broken engagement with Harold Dunning, and of certain plans for the afternoon which he was beginning to fear might be thwarted if this seemingly endless and aimless excursion continued. He looked at the packet of unopened envelopes.

"It would be mighty easy to break open the whole outfit and see what this game is," he thought. "Never knew father to do a thing like this before. If it's a joke"--his fingers felt the seal of "Env. No. 4"--"I might as well find it out at once. Still, father never would joke with a fellow's promise the way he asked it of me. 'My word of honour'--that's putting it pretty strong. I'll see it through, of course. My, but I'm getting hungry! It must be near luncheon-time."