The Argosy, Vol. 81, No. 4 — page 120: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

686 f lazily here and there. Brenning waved him a cheerful salute and was passing on to the elevator when the clerk called him. ‘““A telegram for you, Mr. Brenning.” Brenning tore it open and read: “If possible please telegraph me the money to- night. Andy.” "Then Brenning hardly knew what he did. It seemed as if some personality other than his own suddenly possessed him. The only thing in his mind seemed to be this all ab- sorbing need of his boy’s. Since he had read the letter, and especially since.he had lost the money, it had seemed natural to him that his own trouble should be subser- vient to the imminent threat that was hang- ing over these young people who had life and romance before them. _ The acuteness of his own trouble was that it kept him from remedying theirs. And now this great threat had filled all the world and taken control of him. Suddenly the quavering, halting misery fell away from his heart. He found him- self as cool and self-possessed as he had ever been in his life. Even more so! There was about him a cold, deliberate strength that he had never felt before. The strength of the ultimate sacrifice! “Well, well,” he said, with benevolent concern, “the boy must certainly have the money.” He drew out his watch and stood for a moment with puckered brow, tapping one hand meditatively with the folded telegram. A slight, half-turn brought him face to face with Bristoff. “Oh,” he exclaimed, as if relieved by a sudden idea, “my boy has just wired me asking me to telegraph him three hundred dollars to-night. I wonder if you'll cash me a check for that amount? It’s too late for me to get the money from the bank.” “Of course,” agreed Bristoff instantly, giving the necessary instructions to the cashier. “Better make it three-twenty if you will,” suggested Brenning. “Had my _ pocket picked on the subway coming home,” he added with a little rueful laugh. “The beggars cleaned me for somewhere round a hundred.” “Vou don’t say! The sons of guns! Well, it’s a good job you can afford to laugh about it. That helps a little, though I sup- pose none of us really enjoys being robbed.” “You bet we don’t! Well, ’m very much obliged to you Mr. Bristoff. » THE ARGOSY. “Not at all, Mr. Brenning. Glad to do it any time.” Brenning went out, and five minutes fater he had telegraphed the money. Then he returned, went up to his room, and sat down to look the situation in the face. He knew what his act meant. Exposure and imprisonment! Well, he had: never in his life made a sacrifice for his boy. Andy had never needed one. Until now! And he had met the test. He had sacrificed the only thing he had left to give, his good name. | Well, his life was over and he had no further use for it, and life is dear and beau- tiful to the young. The result was well worth the sacrifice. He had no regrets. There was nothing left in life for him, any-' way. He went to tHe office next morning. All day long he expected the jingling telephone ..Wwas calling him for an explanation, but no word came. Probably Bristoff was waiting to confront him with his villainy when he returned home. He would not postpone it. Bristoff was in the lobby of the hotel, just as he had been yesterday. Brenning met his,eye, waiting for the denunciation. Bristoff waved him a cheerful salute and made a pleasant remark about the weather. The thing that was gripping Brenning’s heart gripped tighter. He could not un- derstand. Perhaps the clerk had not de- posited the check yet, or the report had not come from the bank. He wished they would hurry. The suspense was torture. He tossed about through a_ sleepless night, and the next day again took up the agony of listening for that cruelly delayed telephone call. It did not come. When he got home in the evening the clerk handed him a letter. It was from Andrew; full of gratitude and affection. His eyes filled with tears as he read it, standing by the desk. When he looked up his eyes fell on Bris- toff, strolling in from the dining-room. Their eyes met. Bristoff smiled. Was the man going to torture him forever? And so it went on through the week. Each day the haggard lines grew deeper in . his cheeks and the weariness of mind and body became more intolerable. At last Sat- urday afternoon arrived. He had emptied his desk and severed the links that had joined him to youth and active life for forty years and he was alone in his room, utterly desolate. CONNicloOolkKXs (E@)