Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 25, 1924 — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

THE LOST ORANGE GROVE. duced us, “ are the two best friends Miss Pomeroy has. She was too ill to come, and sent them in answer to your message.”’ And with a grave nod in our direction the surgeon left the room and closed the door; and I saw that he had his watch in his hand. Gene and [ pulled up chairs to the bed- side and sat down. Lee Dimlock drew a deep breath. ‘“T am going to die,” he announced in a broken voice. ‘‘ And I must put my house in order. I must make my peace with Su- zanne Pomeroy and her brothers before— before I go. I cannot face my Maker with what is on my conscience. You will find a sheet of paper under my pillow. I want both of you to sign it as witnesses. Read it aloud.” Gene’s large brown paw dived under the pillow and returned with a folded sheet of hospital stationery. In a fine, deep voice he read: * Majolica, Florida, June 18, 1924. “T, Lee K. Dimlock, on my deathbed, do solemnly swear that Phil Pomeroy did not steal from me the yearling heifer for the al- leged theft of which he was brought to trial in Nardon, Connecticut, in the month of March, 1919, and sentenced to eighteen months’ imprisonment. I myself plated the heifer in the Pomeroy cow stable on the night of January 16, 1919, during a windstorm and hired Jeff Withers and Sam Cloyer to perjure themselves in order that Phil Pome- roy would be sent to prison. For this cruel and unchristianlike act I wish to make full atonement. “TI do further solemnly swear that, in shooting me on the afternoon of June 15, 1924. Bert Pomeroy acted purely in a spirit of self- defense and was wholly justified in shooting me because of the attitude I have taken for years toward Suzanne Pomeroy, “This statement I make of my own free will, in a sound state of mind, in the presence of witnesses, because, when I leave this world, I want to go before my Maker with clean hands. “Lee K. Drutock.” Gene uncapped his fountain pen and scrawled his signature as a witness and handed paper and pen to me to do the same. Some of the terror had ebbed from Lee K. Dimlock’s pale blue eyes but he still seemed anxious. 45 “You won’t use it unless it’s absolutely necessary ?”’ ‘“ No,” said Gene. Lee K. Dimlock sighed. An expression of peace stole over his gaunt, hard face. “IT can go before my Maker now,” he said in a soft, whispery voice, “‘ with a clear conscience. That’s all. You two can go now.” ‘“ Hold on,” said Gene. “ Aren’t you try- ing to wiggle into heaven without buying a ticket? Bert Pomeroy sold his farm at a big loss because of you, and Phil Pomeroy lost a whole year in prison. How are you going to square that with your Maker?” Lee Dimlock had always been a hard man in a bargain, a shrewd trader, and his life- long habits prevailed now. ‘“‘ T’ve done enough!” he snapped. “‘ That sheet of paper in your pocket is worth a million dollars to those Pomeroys! You know that.” “What is it worth in the eyes of God?” Gene.answered. “ Are you going to get any- _Where, do you think, Dimlock, trying to drive bargains with Him?” “That farm of theirs wasn’t worth the price it brought,” the New Englander mut- tered. ‘‘ I—oh, I’ll be generous. I'll allow Phil Pomeroy five hundred dollars for the time he spent in prison, and I’ll throw in another five hundred to cover everything else. You'll find my check book in that top drawer.” “Wait a minute,” said Gene energetical- ly, as I found the check book and returned with it. ‘“ What was it the Bible said about a rich man’s chances of getting into heaven? Didn’t it say that a camel could pass through the eye of a needle easier? Gene glanced anxiously toward the door. He was worrying, I knew, about the ten min- utes that Dr. Rawlins had allotted us. “ Are you going to let a few thousand dol- lars stand between you and eternal peace and happiness? You can’t take any of it along, can you?” “Tm not a rich man!” Mr, Dimlock snapped. “Then that settles it,” said Gene, reach- ing toward his hat. “Don’t go yet,” the wounded man irri- tably halted him. “I want to be fair and eomnichoo S (C@ im