"Well?" said d.i.c.k, as he took out his cigar.

"It's a matter of some importance to one or two of my friends, and I may say, to myself, that the old contract should be renewed," said Mr.

Early, gaining confidence. "I want to ask you to look at it in a reasonable light. I suppose you fellows had to be a little outrageously virtuous to make your campaign; but now it's time to drop that and get down to business."

d.i.c.k resumed his cigar with an air of settling the question.

"Mr. Early," he said, "I do not think it necessary for us even to discuss this matter. This was one of the main issues in the campaign.

Some of us were elected on purpose that we might rid the city of this kind of thing; and we propose to carry out our pledges. There is nothing more to be said."

"There are personal considerations to every question, Percival,"

answered Mr. Early, shading his face with his hand, and watching d.i.c.k's expression with artistic appreciation of the changes that he felt sure he should see.

"Not for me," said d.i.c.k. "Thank Heaven my hands are clean, and I can do whatever I believe to be right."

"Yes, for you," answered Mr. Early suavely, and then he broke into a suppressed laugh. "Why, you young idiot, if you care to be told, your feet are limed, and the sooner you recognize the fact the better."

"What do you mean?" cried d.i.c.k with fierce resentment.

"Oh, sit down, my boy," said Mr. Early, still amiable. "There's no use in rampaging. I just want to tell you a little story and show you a little piece of paper."

d.i.c.k sat down and glared at his guest.

"Your wife--" d.i.c.k started up with something like a groan. "Yes, your wife, Percival. You see a man does not always stand alone. Your wife has a necklace of worthless rubies, which she has told you was a present from our dear departed Swami. If people only knew about it, there might be a certain amount of scandal about a young woman's receiving a supposedly valuable gift from a swindler who was also a social idol.

Don't go off your head, d.i.c.k. You've got to listen to me. As a matter of fact, she lied to you when she told you he gave them to her. She bought them; and she had not the money to pay for them. I suppose it was at his suggestion that she borrowed the sum from me. That would have been all right, except that she gave me a note signed by Richard Percival, and she quite omitted to tell me that her husband was away at the time. I found that out by chance afterward, after I had supplied her demand.

Would you like to see the forgery, d.i.c.k? It's an ugly word, but we might just as well be plain with each other."

d.i.c.k's tongue had grown dry and speechless, so that he seemed to have no power to check this recital, and now all he could do was to reach out an eager hand.

"Not so fast," said Mr. Early. "It's mine, not yours. And it will take more than the five thousand dollars out of which it swindled me to buy it back. It sounds bad, doesn't it? A forgery, connected with a rascal who was the talk of the country. I should not myself care to pose again as the dupe of a woman and her friendly counterfeiter, but that would be a small matter compared with the hail of scandal that would whir around the head of that pretty little b.u.t.terfly, your wife."

"Scandal! My wife!" d.i.c.k staggered to his feet.

"That is what we all want to avoid, don't we?" Mr. Early asked with his fat smile.

They looked at each other in silence. d.i.c.k had a wild impulse to fling himself on his knees, spiritually speaking, and to beg for mercy; but the expression of Mr. Early's face suggested that all sentiment would fall into cold storage in his breast.

"You've been devoting yourself, with a certain amount of success, to digging out the hidden things in other men's careers," the tormentor went on with a cheerful sneer. "I suppose it has amused you. I know it amuses me, and it would doubtless amuse the public, to fix attention on this little affair of your own. You must remember that you have this disadvantage: you and your kind are thin-skinned. Billy Barry and his kind are pachyderms."

He settled back comfortably in his chair and smiled benevolently at d.i.c.k's white face.

"Well?" d.i.c.k asked at last hoa.r.s.ely.

Mr. Early carefully refolded the slip of paper, and tucked it away in his vest pocket, but he spoke with engaging openness.

"It's yours, my dear boy, the day after the lighting franchise pa.s.ses over the mayor's veto. If they fail to pa.s.s it, I shall know that you and Mrs. Percival are willing to stand a little public obloquy for the sake of what you consider right. Very creditable to you, I am sure, and d.a.m.ned uncomfortable for your wife."

d.i.c.k still stared at him, and he went on: "I'll leave you to think it over. In fact, I do not know that it is necessary for me to learn your decision except by your action. Sorry to have to take extreme measures, but it's every one for himself, in this world."

He went out, and d.i.c.k sank into a chair and stared at his toes and the ashes.

"What's the use?" he said to himself. "She didn't know what she was doing. I can't change it or her."

Winter went on, and Ellery and Madeline were married. d.i.c.k squandered himself on their wedding present, and looked like a thunder-cloud as he watched the ceremony. On the day after he returned from his brief honeymoon, Norris started down town to take up the routine of life, irradiated now by love and purpose. The world seemed fresh and fair, and even the face of Billy Barry less unlovely than usual as they met near Newspaper Row.

"Morning," said Mr. Barry. "You look ripping. My congratulations. Sorry you could not come around to the council meeting, last night. You'd have been pleased to see the old franchise waltz through."

"What do you mean?" demanded Norris, stopping short.

"Haven't even read the morning paper? Good land, that's what it means to be a bridegroom!" Barry went on with a chuckle. "Couldn't stop looking at her face behind the coffee-pot!"

Norris restrained an impulse to throttle him and allowed Barry to proceed.

"Why, yes, we pa.s.sed the old thing. I always said we would. Your friend Percival voted with the combine. He's the real stuff. When he saw how truth and justice lay, he buckled down and did the square thing. Have a cigar? No? Oh yes, it's straight goods I'm givin' you. You needn't look so queer. And say, on the quiet, I'm rather stuck on you reform fellers. All they need is argument. So when you get 'em, you get 'em cheap. Say, it's better than cash, any day."

Norris ran up the steps and s.n.a.t.c.hed a morning's paper. Yes, it was true. Percival had voted against his friends and had given the victory to the other side. Ellery flung into his office and whirled into his day's work in a kind of daze. There was much to do and no time for outside thought, but when the afternoon was over, instead of rushing back to the little home, as he had expected, Norris hurried into his coat and hastened to find d.i.c.k. Mr. Percival was at home; and, without waiting to be announced, Ellery sprang up the stairs to the little sanctum where the two had confabbed on many a day. He plunged in on d.i.c.k, pale and unresponsive, and blurted out his question.

"Yes," said d.i.c.k, "I voted for it. I became convinced that it was the best thing the city could do. I've been telling the boys so for the past two weeks. I really didn't understand the matter before. Don't get so excited, Norris."

He spoke quietly, but without meeting his friend's eyes, and Ellery's heart sank.

"I don't know what it means, d.i.c.k," he said bitterly, "but it seems to me that, like Lucifer, you've been falling from dawn to dewy eve, and now you are likely to consort with the devils in the pit. Are you the old d.i.c.k who used to be my idol?"

"Oh, bosh!" said d.i.c.k. "You are making mountains out of mole hills. The franchise is all right."

"It's not all right; and you're not all right," cried Norris, in a frantic grasping after the truth of the matter. "The old relationships are slipping away and something that was as dear to me as myself is going with them."

He turned away and d.i.c.k suddenly rose.

"Ellery," he cried hoa.r.s.ely, and Norris turned to see anguish in d.i.c.k's face and outstretched hand, "I--I--can't explain to you," cried Percival; "but, Ellery--" he moved forward, "don't cut the bonds of old friendship, for G.o.d's sake! I need you now, as I never did before. If you desert me, I shall lose my grip."

Norris stepped back, and the two took each other's hands and looked steadfastly, eye into eye. And Norris saw something that took on him the hold that death has on us, and made him ready to forgive. Death is the big problem of every mind. We may perhaps master and solve the question when the death is of the body, but when the soul dies out, the problem is too great.

Ellery sank into a chair with weariness.

"Tell me about it," he said.

Then d.i.c.k stiffened again.

"There isn't anything to tell."

"See here," said Norris. "This isn't only a question of the lighting franchise. The city may walk in darkness and be d.a.m.ned for all I care; but I can't bear that you should walk in darkness. Do you realize what it means? You have fought your first public battle on a basis of truth.

You make your first public appearance in league with evil. You are killing the hope of your public career before it is fairly in bud."

"I know it," said d.i.c.k.

"Percival, you've stirred this city into consciousness. It's been wonderful how you have done it so swiftly, for it is your doing. The decent elements are marching forward into control and it belongs to you to march at their head. The thing has got to go on. If you don't lead it, some one else will."

"I know it."