morning and finds this large sum left him by those to whom his little
craft has been of such inestimable service," said William, and then
for fear the boatman might not find the check and the order, in two
other places he pinned up cards giving the whereabouts of the
remuneration for the boat and some statement concerning the
circumstances of its requisition. On the back of one of the cards had
been penciled his name and city address, and though he had erased the
black of this inscription, the impression yet remained distinctly
legible. This erasure was not due to any desire to conceal his
identity or lodgings, but because he had thought at first that he
could not get all the information on one side of the card. Having seen
his friends go slipping out on the deep, he turned pensively homeward,
somewhat heavy of heart, for when one faces perils with another, fast
friendships are quickly welded.
In the morning, young William was arrested and lodged in jail and a
corrupt and venal judge laughed with contempt at his plea. After three
long days in jail, came Mr. Hicks, senior, who compounded with the
boat owner for two hundred and fifty dollars, the boat being, as the
owner swore, of Spanish cedar with nickel-plated trimmings.
* * * * *
"That is always the way when a person of good heart befriends
another," said Mr. Middleton.
"Alas, too often," said the emir of the tribe of Al-Yam. "But I am
pleased to say that when once across the lake, the two-nosed gentleman
married Miss Montmorency, who whatever she might be, did not lack
certainly womanly qualities and had been the sport of an unkind world.
Having something to live for, the two-nosed gentleman signed with a
Detroit dime museum company at seventy-five dollars a week. His two
noses were not the most remarkable thing about him, for in course of
time hearing of young William's misadventure, he sent him a sum
equivalent to all the episode had cost him, together with a handsome
diamond stud, which he had with great deftness and cleverness taken
from the officious policeman, as he visited the dime museum with two
ladies while spending his vacation in Detroit. And this beautiful
ornament William delighted to wear, not merely because of its
intrinsic worth, which was considerable, but through regard for its
thoughtful and considerate donor."
"The two-nosed man did truly show himself a man of gratitude, and I am
glad to hear of such an instance. Yet from what you said of him in the
beginning of the tale, I should not have expected it of him. How often
is one deceived by appearances and how hard it is to trust to them."
"Even the wisest is unable to distinguish an enemy wearing the guise
of a friend, but we may bring to our assistance the aid of forces more
powerful than our poor little human intelligence. Let me present you
with a talisman which will ever warn you when any one plots against
you."
"How?"
"How? You must wait until some one plots against you and the talisman
will answer that question. Its ways of warning will be as manifold as
the plots villains may conceive. Here is the talisman, an Egyptian
scarabaeus of pure gold. So cunningly fashioned is it that not nature
itself made ever a bug more perfect in the outward seeming."
_What Befell Mr. Middleton Because of the Third Gift of the Emir._
Putting the scarabaeus in his left trousers pocket, Mr. Middleton
departed, and as he went about his affairs during the next several
days, he ceased to think of the talisman, but on the fourth day his
attention was recalled to it in a way that indeed seemed to prove that
it was a charm possessed of the powers the emir of the tribe of Al-Yam
had attributed to it. He was faring northward in a street car at
eleven of the morning, diverting himself with the study of the
passengers sitting opposite, when he became aware that the scarabaeus
in his left trousers pocket was slowly traveling up his leg. Had the
talisman been other than the heavy object it was, he would not have
noticed it, but it was of too considerable weight to travel over his
person without making its progress felt. Deterred by none of the
superstitious tremors which the unaccountable peregrinations of the
gold beetle would have excited in one less intrepid, he quickly thrust
his hand into his pocket to close it over another hand already there,
a hand which beyond a first little start to escape, lay passive and
unresisting, a hand soft and delicate, yet well-muscled withal,
long-fingered and finely formed. At the same time, a well-modulated
voice at his side exclaimed:
"Why, I did not recognize you at first. I was not looking when you
came and you evidently did not notice me."
"No, I did not," said Mr. Middleton, composedly, still retaining his
grasp upon the hand in his pocket. "I cannot see that you have changed
any," he continued, scrutinizing the young woman at his side, for she
was young and, moreover, of a very pleasing presence, and he did not
altogether rebel against the circumstances that allowed him to fondle
the hand of one so comely. The day, which had begun with a slight
chill, had turned off warm and she had removed her cloak, which, lying
across her own lap and partially across Mr. Middleton's, had been the
blind behind which she had introduced her hand into the pocket where
reposed the fateful talisman.
The persons in the car seemed to take an interest in this sudden
recognition on the part of a pair who had been riding side by side for
so long, oblivious of each other's identity. Moreover, the young woman
was tastefully gowned and of a very smart appearance, while Mr.
Middleton's new suit became him and fitted him nicely and altogether
they were a couple nearly any one would find pleasure in looking upon.
A slight movement to withdraw the hand lying within his own, caused
Mr. Middleton's grasp to tighten and almost simultaneously, the young
woman at his side leaned forward and with a look in which sorrow and
pain were mingled, said in a lowered voice:
"Oh, I have such a dreadful thing to tell you about our friend Amy. I
hate to tell you, but as I wish to bespeak your kind offices, I must
do so. I am going to ask you to be the agent of a restitution. She
has, oh, she has become a kleptomaniac. With every luxury, with her
fine home on the Lake Shore Drive, with all her father's wealth, with
no want money can gratify, she takes things. In her circumstances it
is out of the question to call it stealing. It is a mania, a form of
insanity. When she is doing it, she seems to be in the grasp of some
other mind, to be another person, and her actions are involuntary,
unconscious. Then she seems to come to herself, when her agony is
dreadful to behold."
The young woman's voice broke a little here, she paused a moment to
resume control of herself, and perceiving her eyes swimming with tears
and her lips quivering with unhappiness, Mr. Middleton was penetrated
with pity and pressed most tenderly and sympathetically the delicate
hand of which he was temporarily custodian.
"She took things in stores, trumpery, cheap things. She took magazines
and penny papers from news stands. But oh, she descended to the
dreadful depths of--oh, I can hardly tell it--she was detected in
trying to pick a man's pocket. It is here that I wish to employ you as
an agent of restitution, or rather retribution, I should say. Will you
please take this ring off my left hand and take it to the man she
tried to rob? I cannot use the fingers of my right hand owing to
temporary incapacitation," and she held out to Mr. Middleton her left
hand, upon the third finger of which gleamed a splendid ring of
diamonds and emeralds. Mr. Middleton possessed himself of this second
hand, but paused, and regarding the sweet face turned up to his so
beseechingly, so piteously, said:
"But that would be compounding a felony. And how do you know the man
will not have her arrested anyway?"
"The man is a gentleman and having heard her story, will not think of
such a thing. You are to ask him to accept the ring not as a price for
immunity from arrest, but as a punishment, a retribution to Amy. The
loss of the ring, which she has commissioned me to get to this
gentleman in some manner, will be a lesson she is only too anxious to
give herself, a forcible reminder, as it were. Let me beg of you to
undertake this commission."
All the while, Mr. Middleton was retaining hold of both the hands of
the sorrowful young woman. Had they been other than the soft and
shapely hands they were, had they been hard and gnarled and large,
long before would he, melted by compassion at the young woman's tale,
have released her. But her very charms had been her undoing and
because of her perfect hands, this tale has grown long. That he might
have excuse in the eyes of the other passengers for holding the young
woman's hand, Mr. Middleton removed the ring as he had been bidden,
planning to return it shortly. As he removed the ring, he released the
hand in his pocket and his plan was frustrated by the young woman
starting up with the exclamation that she had passed her corner, and
springing from the car. She was so far in advance of him, when he
succeeded in getting off the car and was walking so rapidly, that he
could not overtake her except by running, and he was averse to
attracting the attention that this would occasion. So he determined to
shadow her and ascertaining her residence, find some means of
restoring the ring without the knowledge of her friends, as he had no
desire to do anything which might cause them to learn of her
unfortunate infirmity, especially, as this last experience might have
worked a cure. She did indeed enter a stately mansion of the Lake
Shore Drive--but by the back door.
Pondering upon this episode, Mr. Middleton went to an acquaintance who
kept a large loan bank on Madison Street, who, after discovering that
he had no desire to pawn the ring, appraised it at seven hundred
dollars.
On the following evening, Mr. Middleton was replacing his new suit by
his old, as was his custom when he intended to remain in his room of
an evening. This example cannot be too highly commended to all young
men. The amount which would be saved in this nation were all to
economize in this way, would be sufficient to buy beer for all the
Teutonic citizens of the large state of Illinois. As Mr. Middleton was
changing his clothes, the scarabaeus dropped from his pocket and as he
picked it up, a collar button fell from his neckband, and scrambling
for it as it rolled toward the unexplored regions under his bed, he
tripped and sprawled at full length, his nose coming in sharp contact
with an evening paper lying on the floor. He was about to rise from
his recumbent position, when his eyes, glancing along his nose to
discover if it had sustained any injury, observed that said member
rested upon a notice which read:
"Lost, a diamond and emerald ring. $800 will be paid for its
return and no questions asked. David O. Crecelius."
The address was that of the house on the Lake Shore Drive which the
kleptomaniac had entered! Once more did the scarabaeus seem to be
exerting its influence. But for the talisman, he would never have seen
the notice, and a little shiver ran through him as he thought of this.
Immediately he reclothed himself in his new suit.
"There is time for me to think out a course of action between here and
my destination," said he. "The walking so conducive to reflection can
be much better employed in taking me toward the Lake Shore Drive, than
in uselessly pacing my room, and I'll be there when I get through."
As he traveled eastward, he engaged in a series of ratiocinative
processes and the result of the deductive and inductive reasoning
which he applied to the case in hand, was as follows:
The kleptomaniac could hardly be a daughter of the house. She would
have entered by the front door. If she were the daughter of the house,
she would not have had the ring advertised for, counting herself
fortunate to get out of the difficulty so cheaply. However, if her
parents had noted the absence of the ring, she might have said it was
lost and so they advertised, but nothing could have been further from
her wishes, for there would be the great danger that the outcome of
the advertisement would be a complete exposure. She could easily
prevent her parents noticing the ring was gone, at least making
satisfactory explanations for not wearing it. With her wealth, she
could have it duplicated inside of a few days and her friends never
know the original was lost. As this is what the daughter of the house
in all probability would have done, the kleptomaniac could hardly have
been the daughter of the house. He suspected that she was a lady's
maid, who, wearing her mistress's jewelry, had purchased her way out
of one difficulty at the risk of getting into another. The
advertisement would seem to indicate that she was trusted. The
disappearance of the ring was apparently not connected with her. The
matter was very simple. He would hand over the ring and take the eight
hundred dollars and need say nothing that would implicate the young
woman, be she daughter of the house and kleptomaniac, or serving-maid
and common thief. But one thing puzzled him. Why was the reward
greater than the value of the ring?
Eight hundred dollars. The young lady in Englewood was getting nearer.
A bitter east wind was blowing as he walked up to the entrance of the
mansion of Mr. David Crecelius. Behind him the street lay all deserted
and the melancholy voice of the waves filled the air. Nowhere could he
see a light about the house and he was oppressed by a feeling of
undefinable apprehension as he pressed the bell. A considerable
interval elapsing without any one appearing and a second and a third
ringing failing to elicit any response from within the silent pile, he
was about to depart, feeling greatly relieved that it was not
necessary to hold parley with any one within the gloomy and forbidding
edifice, when he heard a sudden light thud at his feet and discovered
that the scarabaeus had dropped through a hole in his trousers' pocket
which had at that moment reached a size large enough to allow it to
escape. After a hurried search, he had possessed himself of the
talisman and was about to depart, when the door swung open before him
and a venerable white-haired man stood in a dim green glow. Boldly did
Mr. Middleton enter, for had not the talisman delayed him until the
venerable man opened the door?
"Come in, sir, come in," said the venerable man, whom Mr. Middleton
saw was none other than David O. Crecelius, the capitalist, whose
portraits he had seen again and again in the Sunday papers and the
weekly papers of a moral and entertaining nature, accompanying
accounts of his life and achievements, with exhortations to the youth
of the land to imitate them, advice which Mr. Middleton then and there
resolved to follow, reflecting upon the impeccable sources from which
it emanated.
"All the servants seem to be gone. My family is abroad and the
household force has been cut down, and I have given everybody leave to
go out to-night, all but one maid, and she seems to have gone, too,"
said Mr. Crecelius, leading Mr. Middleton into a spacious salon and
seating him near where great portieres of a funereal purple moved
uneasily in the superheated atmosphere of the house. At that moment, a
voice from the hallway, a voice he had surely heard before, said:
"Did some one ring? I am very sorry, but it was impossible for me to
come," and Mr. Middleton was aware that some one was looking hard at
the back of his head.
"Yes. I let them in. It's no matter. Run away now."
When Mr. Middleton had finished explaining the reason for his call and
had fished up the ring, Mr. Crecelius did not, as he had expected he
would, arise and make out a check for $800.
"This ring," said that gentleman after a little pause, "have you it
with you?"
Mr. Middleton glanced at the hollow of his left hand. He had fished up
the scarabaeus instead of the ring. But his left thumb soon showed him
the ring was safe in his vest pocket. The delay and caution of Mr.
Crecelius, and above all, the prevention of the immediate delivery of
the ring caused by the scarabaeus coming up in its stead caused Mr.
Middleton to delay.
"It can be produced," said he.
"How did you get it?"
"It came into my possession innocently enough so far as I was
concerned. As to the person from whom I received it, that is a
different matter, but though I made no promises, I feel I am in honor
bound not to disclose that person's identity."
As he uttered these words, Mr. Middleton saw the portiere at his side
rustle slightly. It was not the swaying caused by the currents of
overheated air.
"I will give you two hundred dollars more to tell me who gave you or
sold you the ring."
"I cannot do that."
"Very well. I'll only give you four hundred dollars reward."
"The ring is worth more than that."
"If you retain it, or sell it, you become a thief."
"You have advertised eight hundred dollars reward and no questions
asked. I may have found it. Knowing of your loss through reading your
advertisement, I may have gone to great trouble to recover it. At any
rate, I have it. I deliver it. Your advertisement is in effect a
contract which I can call upon you to carry out. The ring is not mine,
but for my services in getting it, I am entitled to the eight hundred
dollars you agree to give. You cannot give less."
"Do you think it right to take advantage of my necessity in this way?
You ought to accept less. The ring is not worth over seven hundred
dollars. For returning it, three hundred dollars ought to be enough.
It is wrong to drive a hard bargain by taking advantage of my
necessity."
"You have built your fortune on such principles. You have engineered
countless schemes and your dollars came from the straits you reduced
others to."
"But do you think it right? What I may have done, does not justify
you. I venture to say you and other young chaps have sat with heels
cocked up and pipes in mouth and discussed me and called me a villain
for doing what you are trying to do with me."
"I have indeed. But that was in the past and I have changed my views
materially. At present, I have the exclusive possession of the ability
to secure something you very much want. You offered eight hundred
dollars. Intrinsically, the ring is not worth it, but for certain
reasons, possession of the ring is worth eight hundred dollars."
"Possession of the ring! Certain reasons!" said Mr. Crecelius,
springing to his feet and pacing up and down the room angrily. As Mr.
Middleton was cudgelling his brains to find some reason for this
outburst of anger, he became cognizant of a small piece of folded
paper lying near his feet. He was about to pick it up and hand it to
the financier, when he was stayed by the reflection that it might have
dropped from his own pocket and examining it, read:
"It's his wife's ring. I wore it along with some of her other
things. Ten years ago, he gave it to another woman, and his wife
found it out and he had to buy it back. He is afraid his wife
will think he gave the ring away a second time. That is why I
dared give it to you. Make him give you a thousand.
"The One You Didn't Give Away."
Mr. Middleton put the note in his pocket, and the eminent capitalist
having ceased pacing and standing gazing at him, he remarked:
"Certain reasons, such as preventing an altercation with your wife
over her suspicions that you had not lost the ring, but had disposed
of it as on a former occasion ten years since."
"Young man, you cannot blackmail me. My wife knows all about that. The
knowledge of that occurrence is worthless as a piece of blackmail."
"As blackmail, yes; but not worthless as an indication of the extent
you desire to regain possession of the ring. Your wife knows of your
former escapade and that is gone and past. But the present
disappearance of the ring will cause her to think you have repeated
the escapade. This knowledge of certain conditions causes me to see
that my services in securing and delivering the ring are worth one
thousand dollars. Upon the payment of that sum, cash, I hand you the
ring."
The distinguished money-king gave Mr. Middleton a very black look and
then left the room to return almost immediately with a thousand
dollars in bills, which Mr. Middleton counted, placed in his vest
pocket, and forthwith delivered the ring. As he did so, yielding to
the pride with which the successful outcome of his tilt with the great
capitalist inflamed him, he remarked with a condescension which the
suavity of his tones could not conceal:
"Had you, sir, employed in this affair the perspicacity you have
displayed on so many notable occasions, it would have occurred to you
that this ring, being of a common pattern, could be duplicated for
seven hundred dollars and so you be saved both money and worry."
A look of admiration overspread the face of the eminent manipulator,
and grasping Mr. Middleton's hand with great fervor, he exclaimed:
"A man after my own heart. I am always ready to acknowledge a defeat.
You have good stuff in you. I must know you better. You must stay and
have a glass of champagne with me. I will get it myself," and he
hurried out of the room.
In the state of Wisconsin, from which Mr. Middleton hailed, there is a
great deal of the alcoholic beverage, beer, but such champagne as is
to be found there is all due to importation, since it is not native to
the soil, but is brought in at great expense from France, La Belle
France, and New Jersey, La Belle New Jersey. Mr. Middleton had seen,
smelled, and tasted beer, but champagne was unknown to him save by
hearsay, and his improper curiosity and his readiness to succumb to
temptation caused him to linger in the salon of Mr. Crecelius, thereby
nearly accomplishing his ruin. Suddenly there was a patter of light
steps across the floor, a hand fell lightly on his shoulder and a
voice lightly on his ear.
"You made him raving mad when you said what you did. He telephoned the
police. Now he has gone for the wine and will try to hold you until
they come."
"But he cannot arrest me. I have done nothing," said Mr. Middleton,
his heart going pit-a-pat, in spite of the boldness of his words.
"He can make all sorts of trouble for you. Even if you did come out
all right in the end, think of the trouble. Come, come quick!"
A soft hand had grasped one of his and he was up and away, following
his fair guide up stairs, through the house, and down into the
kitchen.
"I have recovered my wits a bit," said Mr. Middleton. "He is so angry
that he has no thought but immediate vengeance, and so accordingly
telephones the police, and if they were to catch me here, it certainly
would be bad. But to-morrow he will be in a mood to appreciate the
good sense of the letter I shall send him, calling his attention to
the fact that if he arrests me, in the trial there must come out the
reason why I demanded one thousand dollars, the story of his domestic
indiscretion, and so he will not think of pursuing the matter
further."
"It was very kind and very noble of you not to expose me," said the
young woman in a voice in which gratitude and sadness were mingled;
"and all the admiration and gratitude a woman can feel under such
circumstances, I feel toward you. To you I owe my continued good name
and even my very freedom. I know that marriage with such as you, is
not for such as me. I am going to ask you to give to her who would
have all, but expects and deserves nothing, the consolation of a kiss.
Whatever happy maiden may be so fortunate as to receive your love, I
shall have treasured in memory the golden remembrance that once my
preserver bestowed on me the symbol of love."
Mr. Middleton looked down at the girl, supplicating for the favor her
sex is wont to deny, and he said to himself that seldom had he seen a
more flower-like face. Her lovely lips were already puckered in a rosy
pout, her hands raised ready to rest on his shoulders as he should
encircle her with his arms, when he noted with a start that her eyes,
snapping, alert, and eager, were bent not upon his face, but upon his
upper left hand vest pocket, where bulged the one thousand dollars in
bills.
"I am more than honored and I shall be ravished with delight to
comply. But here, where we stand, we are exposed to view from three
sides. If Mr. Crecelius were to look in and see you being kissed by
me, whom he so dislikes, in what a bad plight you would be. Not even
for the exquisite pleasure of kissing you would I subject you to such
a danger. But in the shadow by the outer door, we would not be seen."