Part 27 (1/2)

”Ask him what I say,” repeated Regan shortly. ”What was Dan like in the cab to-night?”

Spence bent over his key again. There was a pause before the answer came.

”He says he hadn't seen Dan so cheerful for months,” said Spence presently.

Regan nodded, kind of curiously, kind of as though it were the answer he expected--and then he nodded at Carleton, and the two went back to the super's room.

Regan closed the door behind him.

Carleton dropped into his chair, his gray eyes hard and full of pain.

”I don't understand, Tommy,” he said heavily. ”It's almost as though you knew it was going to happen.”

Regan came across the floor and stood in front of the desk.

”I did,” he said in a low way. ”I think I was almost certain of it.”

Carleton pulled himself forward with a jerk in his chair.

”Do you know what you are saying, Tommy?” he asked sharply.

”I'll tell you,” Regan said, in the same low way. ”I went over to the roundhouse to-night before Dan took the 304 out. I didn't see Dan anywhere about, and I asked Dawes where he was. Dawes said he had gone back to the fitters' benches to look for some washers. I walked on past the tender and I found him there down on the floor on his knees by one of the benches--but he wasn't looking for any washers. He was praying.”

With a sharp exclamation, Carleton pushed back his chair, and, standing, leaned over the desk toward Regan.

Regan swallowed a lump in his throat--and shook his head.

”He didn't see me,” he said brokenly, ”he didn't know I was there. He was praying aloud. I heard what he said. It's been ringing in my head all night, word for word, while I was trying to play with those”--he jerked his hand toward the scattered cards on the desk between them.

”I can hear him saying it now. It's the queerest prayer I ever heard; and I guess he prayed the way he lived--as though he was kind of intimate with G.o.d.”

”Yes?” prompted Carleton softly, as Regan paused.

Regan turned his head away as his eyes filled suddenly--and his voice was choked.

”What he said was this, just as though he was talking to you or me: 'You know how it is, G.o.d. I wouldn't take that way myself unless You fixed it up for me, because it wouldn't be right unless You did it.

But I hope, G.o.d, You'll think that's the best way out of it. You see, there ain't nothing left as it is, but if we fixed it that way there'd be the fraternal insurance to take care of the missus, and she wouldn't never know. And then, You see, G.o.d, I guess my work is all done, and--and I'd kind of like to quit while I was still on the pay roll--I'd kind of like to finish that way, and to-night's the last chance. You understand, G.o.d, don't You?'”

Regan's lips were quivering as he stopped.

There was silence for a moment, then Carleton looked up from the blotter on his desk.

”Tommy,” he said in his big, quiet way, as his hand touched Regan's sleeve, ”tell me why you didn't stop him, then, from going out to-night?”

Regan didn't answer at once. He went over to the window and stared out at the twinkling switch lights in the yards below--he was still staring out of the window as he spoke.

”He didn't put it up to me,” said Regan. ”He put it up to G.o.d.”

VII

”THE DEVIL AND ALL HIS WORKS”