Part 37 (1/2)

”But you can 'deliver,' as you say,” shortly. ”You know it yourself.”

Armstrong shook his head.

”I'm not as b.u.mptious as I was a few years ago,” he commented. ”I'd have said 'yes' then undoubtedly. Now--I don't know.”

Roberts swung about in his desk chair, the crease between his eyes suddenly grown deep.

”Nonsense,” he refuted curtly. ”You're not the first man in the world who has done something to regret. Every one has in some way or another--and profited by the experience. It's forgotten already, I say, man. Let it pa.s.s at that, and go ahead as though nothing had happened. By the way, have you had supper--or do you call it dinner?”

For the first time Armstrong looked at the speaker and, forgetting for the instant, he almost smiled. The question was characteristic.

”I've already dined, thank you,” he said.

Without comment Roberts called up the _cafe_ and ordered delivered his customary busy-day lunch of sandwiches and coffee.

”I'm going East on the eleven-fifty limited to-night,” he explained, ”and there are several things I've got to see to first.” In voluntary relaxation from work he slipped down in the big chair until his head rested on the back. Thereafter for a long time, for longer doubtless than he realized, he sat so, looking at the other man; not rudely or unpleasantly, but with the old, absent, a.n.a.lytical expression large upon his face. At last he roused.

”I suppose,” he began abruptly, ”you're wondering what it is I wish to speak with you about. I'll explain in advance that it's of your personal affairs purely, nothing else. Would you prefer me not to intrude?”

For a moment Armstrong did not answer, but with an effort he looked at the questioner directly.

”If it were a couple of days back,” he said, ”I should have answered 'yes' emphatically. Now--” his glance wandered out the window, resting on the brick wall opposite, ”now I hardly know. You've earned a sort of right to wield the probe; and besides--”

”Never mind the right,” shortly. ”I tell you last night is forgotten. I meant to see you and have the same talk anyway--with your permission.”

Still Armstrong hesitated, looking steadily away. ”You've condoned the fact, then, that I've cut you dead on the street regularly?”

”I understood--and didn't blame you. There are dozens of people who know Old Man Roberts and still never see him when pa.s.sing face to face. It's all in the game.”

At last Armstrong's glance returned, almost with wonder. ”And you don't lay it up against them?”

”Sometimes. Usually, however, not. Life's too short to play with toys; and enmities are toys--double-edged ones at that. You haven't answered my question yet.”

”I know; but just a moment more. Do you recall, by the way, a prophecy I made once, years ago?”

”Yes; it never came true as far as I am concerned.”

”Perhaps you never had cause to have it do so.”

”Possibly.”

”With me it did come about. I've hated you ever since--from the day you left. Do you realize why I haven't answered your question?”

”Yes, why you haven't. I'm still waiting.”

”I'm wondering,” mused Armstrong, ”why I don't hate you, now that we're here together. I've thought a lot of bitter things about you, more than about any one in the world. I don't know why I don't say them now that I've got the chance.”

”Yes, you have the chance. I'm listening.”

”I know.” Armstrong's long fingers were twitching nervously. Despite an effort to prevent his lower lip trembled in sympathy. ”And still, now that for the first time I have the chance, I can't. I don't want to. I--”

Of a sudden an uncontrollable moisture came into his eyes, and he s.h.i.+fted about abruptly until his face was hid. ”d.a.m.n you, Darley Roberts!” he stormed inadequately, ”I don't want to a bit, but after all I trust you and--and like you. You have my permission to intrude. I want you to, have wanted you to a hundred times.” The Rubicon was crossed at last and he made the admission that for long had trembled on his tongue. ”Somehow I can't get along without you and keep my nerve. I think you're the only person in the world who even in a measure understands me, and can maybe make a man of me again.”