Part 6 (1/2)

”Of course you will!” she exclaimed confidently. ”You're so big and strong it seems foolish-except for the baby. That's why we mustn't take any chances.”

So cheerful and confident was Wentworth that he failed to notice the solemnity of the physician who examined him the next day. The doctor began with a joke, but he ended with a perplexed scowl.

”You certainly look as strong as a horse,” he said. ”But you're not,” he added under his breath.

Then he made his report to Murray.

”Heart trouble,” he explained. ”The man may live twenty or thirty years or he may die to-morrow. My personal opinion is that he will die within two years.”

Murray was startled and distressed. Wentworth was his close personal friend, and to refuse his application after he had striven so hard to get it seemed heartless and cruel, especially as the refusal would have to be accompanied by an explanation that would be much like a death-warrant. Of course, he was in no way responsible for the conditions, but it would seem as if he were putting a limit on his friend's life.

”Are you sure?” he asked.

”Positive,” replied the physician. ”It is an impossible risk.”

”Did you tell him?”

”No.”

”And I am to dine with him and his wife to-night,” said Murray. ”They will be sure to ask about the policy.”

Murray was tempted to send word that he could not come, but it was rather late for that. Besides, the information would have to be given some time, so what advantage could there be in procrastinating? But it came to him as a shock. The news of actual death would hardly have affected him more seriously, for it seemed like a calamity with which he was personally identified and for which he was largely responsible. He knew that he was not, but he could not banish the disquieting feeling that he was. He closed his desk and walked slowly and thoughtfully to Wentworth's house, wis.h.i.+ng, for once, that he had been less successful in the ”friendly duel.”

It was a long walk; he could easily have put in another half-hour at the office had he chosen to take the elevated; but he was in no humor for business and he preferred to walk. It gave him additional time for thought. He must decide when and how he would tell Wentworth, and it is no easy task to tell a friend that his hold upon life is too slight to make him a possible insurance risk.

He would not do it to-night. It would be nothing short of brutal so to spoil a pleasant evening. Wentworth would have the knowledge soon enough, even with this respite, and he was ent.i.tled to as much of joyousness and pleasure as could be given him.

Murray was noticeably dispirited. He tried to be as jovial as usual, but he found himself looking at his friend much as he would have looked at a condemned man. There was sympathy and pity in his face. He wondered when the hour of fate would arrive. Might it not be that very evening? A moment of temporary excitement might be fatal; anything in the nature of a shock might mean the end. Indeed, the very information he had to give might be the one thing needed to snap the cord of life. If so, he would feel that he had really killed his friend, and yet he had no choice in the matter: he must refuse and he must explain why he refused. If it had been his own personal risk, he would have taken it cheerfully, but even had he so desired, he could not take it for the company in the face of the doctor's report.

”What makes you so solemn?” asked Mrs. Wentworth. ”You look as if you had lost your best friend.”

”I feel as if I had,” Murray replied thoughtlessly, and then he hastened to explain that some business affairs disturbed and worried him.

”But your victory over Stanley ought to make you cheerful,” she insisted. ”Think of finally winning after so long a fight!”

”When shall I get the policy?” asked Wentworth.

”Policies are written at the home office,” answered Murray evasively.

”But the insurance becomes effective when the application is accepted and the first premium paid, doesn't it?” asked Wentworth.

”Yes,” answered Murray.

”Well, now that I am at last converted to insurance I am an enthusiast,”

laughed Wentworth. ”We won't waste any time at all. Get out your little check-book, Helen, and give Murray a check for the first premium. I'll make it good to you to-morrow.”

”I don't believe I could accept it now,” said Murray hesitatingly.

”There are certain forms, you know-”

”Oh, well, I'll send you a check the first thing in the morning,”