Part 38 (1/2)

”There is no other way, my friend,” said Simmy earnestly.

Thorpe was silent for a long time, staring out over the dark waters of the bay. The sun had slipped down behind the ridge of hills to the south and west, and the once bright sea was now cold and sinister and unsmiling. The boats were stealing in from its unfriendly wastes.

”I had not thought of it in that light, Simmy,” he said at length. ”My grandfather said it might take two hundred years.”

”Incidentally,” said Simmy, shrewdly, ”your grandfather knew what he was about when he put in the provision that you were to have twenty-five thousand dollars a year as a salary, so to speak. He was a far-seeing man.

He knew that you would have a hard, uphill struggle before you got on your feet to stay. He may even have calculated on a lifetime, my friend. That's why he put in the twenty-five. He probably realised that you'd be too idiotic to use the money except as a means to bring about the millennium, and so he said to himself 'I'll have to do something to keep the d.a.m.n'

fool from starving.' You needn't have any scruples about taking your pay, old boy. You've got to live, you know. I think I've got the old gentleman's idea pretty-”

”Well, let's drop the subject for to-night, Simmy,” said Thorpe, coming to his feet. His chin was up and his shoulders thrown back as he breathed deeply and fully of the new life that seemed to spring up mysteriously from nowhere. ”You'll spend the night with me. There is a spare bed and you'll-”

”Isn't there a Ritz in the place?” inquired Simmy, scarcely able to conceal his joy.

”Not so that you can notice it,” replied Thorpe gaily. He walked to the edge of the porch and drank in more of that strange, puzzling air that came from vast distances and filled his lungs as they had never been filled before.

Simmy watched him narrowly in the failing light. After a moment he sank back comfortably in the old rocking chair and smiled as a cat might smile in contemplating a captive mouse. The rest would be easy. Thorpe would go back with him. That was all that he wanted, and perhaps more than he expected. As for old Templeton Thorpe's ”foundation,” he did not give it a moment's thought. Time would attend to that. Time would kill it, so what was the use worrying. He prided himself on having done the job very neatly,-and he was smart enough to let the matter rest.

”What is the news in town?” asked Braden, turning suddenly. There was a new ring in his voice. He was eager for news of the town!

”Well,” said Simmy naively, ”there is so much to tell I don't believe I could get it all out before dinner.”

”We call it supper, Simmy.”

”It's all the same to me,” said Simmy.

And after supper he told him the news as they walked out along the breakwater.

Anne Thorpe was in Europe. She closed the house as soon as George was able to go to work, and went away without any definite notion as to the length of her stay abroad.

”She's terribly upset over having to live in that old house down there,”

said Simmy, ”and I don't blame her. It's full of ghosts, good and bad. It has always been her idea to buy a big house farther up town. In fact, that was one of the things on which she had set her heart. I don't mind telling you that I'm trying to find some way in which she can chuck the old house down there without losing anything. She wants to give it away, but I won't listen to that. It's worth a hundred thousand if it's worth a nickel. So she closed the place, dismissed the servants and-”

”'Gad, my grandfather wouldn't like that,” said Braden. ”He was fond of Murray and Wade and-”

”Murray has bought a saloon in Sixth Avenue and talks of going into politics. Old Wade absolutely refused to allow Anne to close up the house.

He has received his legacy and turned it over to me for investment.

Confound him, when I had him down to the office afterwards he as much as told me that he didn't want to be bothered with the business, and actually complained because I had taken him away from his work at that hour of the day. Anne had to leave him there as caretaker. I understand he is all alone in the house.”

”Anne is in Europe, eh? That's good,” said Thorpe, more to himself than to his companion.

”Never saw her looking more beautiful than the day she sailed,” said Simmy, peering hard in the darkness at the other's face. ”She hasn't had much happiness, Brady.”

”Umph!” was the only response, but it was sufficient to turn Simmy off into other channels.

”I suppose you know that George and Lutie are married again.”

”Good! I'm glad to hear it,” said Thorpe, with enthusiasm.