The Reverend Edward Drake lived in the East End of London. Although in
Holy Orders, he held no living, nor yet a curacy; but busied himself in
doing good according to his own ideas. His study was the only room in
the house that was properly furnished, and on its walls were displayed
many athletic trophies, which he had won at Oxford.
The chair in which he sat bore signs of wear, and might have been a
legacy from his undergraduate days. The pipe, which was gripped by even
white teeth, was charred and battered, and was evidently an old friend.
The remains of a substantial breakfast lay on the table, and Drake
quickly read the letters of the morning. When he had finished, his
old housekeeper brought him a note which had just been delivered by a
messenger.
It was from John Gaunt, and asked for an appointment at the earliest
possible moment.
“_I am quite willing to come to you, but should you be near the West
End to-day, I shall be glad if you will call. Perhaps you will lunch
with me._”
“The man is very polite. I wonder what he wants?” he muttered.
It was but yesterday that he had been to Gaunt’s office, when he had
received a check for so unexpectedly large an amount. Although they
had been together but a few minutes, he was intensely interested in
the millionaire. For one thing, he had been unable to fix Gaunt in
his proper place. He could not decide whether his predominant traits
were good or evil and he longed for an opportunity to find out. It was
natural that he should imagine what untold good could be done by a man
with the power of millions in his hands. As a matter of fact, during
his return from the City to the East End, Drake had been dreaming
dreams. He had been planning what he would do if he were the possessor
of such wealth, and the problem proved to be fascinating in the extreme.
After a little consideration he decided to lunch with Gaunt, and so
scribbled a note to that effect which he gave to the messenger. Then
he started on his morning’s work with whole-hearted energy. It was a
pitiful task, for he had devoted his life to the submerged—to those
victims of misfortune and incompetence or laziness, or drink, who
dragged out their weary existence in hidden corners and out of sight.
First he would try to give them a little physical strength by feeding
them, and then to give them an opportunity of making another effort
to regain their foothold on life. It was marvellous how successful he
had been, although at times despondency held him in its grip. But now,
thanks to Gaunt’s generosity, he would be able to enlarge the scope of
his work, and carry out many new schemes.
To his astonishment a luxurious motor-car pulled up before his house,
which he found had been sent by Gaunt to take him to Park Lane. A smile
lit up his face as he sank back against the comfortable cushions,
for his rather shabby attire was strangely out of keeping with such
magnificence.
A crowd of urchins had gathered round, and they gave a wild cheer when
he started. Drake looked back and gaily waved his hand.
“I feel as if I were out on the spree,” he said aloud.
“I beg your pardon, sir?” the chauffeur said politely.
“Don’t mention it. What a very fine car you drive.”
“Yes, sir. It’s a sixty horse Magnus,” the man answered proudly, and
then proceeded to tell the numerous good points _his_ car possessed
over every other in the market.
Drake listened with a pleased smile, for he was enjoying himself
immensely.
“I wonder if I might sit in front with you?” he remarked
ingratiatingly, and the chauffeur put on the brake. “I like to watch
you working the pedals.”
But Drake sighed a little when the car stopped before the Gaunt palace,
as though his holiday had come to an end. But it was not so, for lunch
was ready, and the millionaire and himself were alone. How dainty
everything was! Not too much magnificence for comfort. Then the food
and the wine. Drake was no gourmet, but he liked his meals to be nicely
cooked and would always prefer a bottle of beer to a cheap claret.
“I suppose this wine is very expensive,” he said reflectively, and then
blushed furiously as he realized the bad taste of his remark. “Forgive
me, Mr. Gaunt, but I so seldom eat with any one that I fear I get in
the habit of talking to myself.”
Gaunt smiled, for he was beginning to feel a liking for Edward Drake.
There had been a little doubt when he had sent the letter, but the
doubt had quickly disappeared now that they had been together for a
while.
“Do you smoke?” Gaunt asked abruptly.
“Yes. It is my one extravagance,” Drake replied.
As soon as they reached the library, Gaunt went to a cabinet, and from
it chose one of the cigars which he kept for himself and his most
intimate friends. Drake snipped off the end and carefully applied a
match. Then he threw himself back into the chair and took two or three
luxurious puffs.
“It is almost worth while being a millionaire,” he remarked
meditatively.
“May I send you a box?” Gaunt asked politely.
“My dear sir, I couldn’t think of accepting such a gift. No—no. I must
be content with my pipe. But you are very generous, and I thank you.”
Gaunt knew that it would be useless to insist, and he respected Drake
the more for his decision. He too lit a cigar and brought his chair
near the other one.
“Mr. Drake, I don’t quite know how to begin,” he said doubtfully.
“Take your own time.”
“I am afraid that you will think me a trifle mad when you hear what I
have to say. First I want you to answer me a question—and frankly. Will
you do so?”
“To the best of my ability,” Drake answered gravely, for he recognized
that Gaunt was grimly in earnest.
“Why did you come to me for a check? From what you knew of my
character, did you think you were likely to get one?” Gaunt asked
bluntly.
“My experience tells me that checks are often obtained from the most
unlikely quarters.”
“Then you considered me an unlikely quarter? Frankly, what have you
heard about me?”
“You wish me to tell you—frankly?”
“Yes,” Gaunt cried impatiently.
“I’ve not heard much to your credit. They say you aren’t too particular
about the way you make money—so long as you make it. Then your
connection with ‘red rubber’ does not predispose people in your favor.”
“Thank you.”
“But I’ve always heard that you are a man to be trusted. You hold a
promise to be a sacred thing, and that is something nowadays. Since
yesterday, I can place generosity to your credit, and now that I know
you personally, I am inclined to think that you have not allowed the
world to see your true character. Am I right?”
“God only knows what my real character is. At any rate rumor hasn’t
lied, I’ve been a thorough bad lot—how bad, I am only just beginning to
realize.”
Gaunt paused, and the two men looked at one another in silence.
“I would like to be your friend, and help you in any way that is in my
power,” Drake said quietly.
“That’s why I sent for you. I want your help, and you’re the only
parson I’ve met in whom I should care to confide. I believe that you
are a man—a man of God, and such a one can help me.”
Again Gaunt paused, and it might have been thought that he was nervous.
“I am a priest, and anything you may say will be held as spoken in
confidence,” Drake said earnestly.
“When I left you yesterday so hurriedly, I came here; and Sir Felix
Hellier told me that my wife was dying. I cannot describe to you my
sufferings, for she is very dear to me. For a while I was in the
deepest despair and had given up all hope. I am no Christian, Mr.
Drake. I have not allowed religion to influence me one iota; but I
remembered the teaching of my childhood, and as the last resource of
desperation, I prayed.”
Gaunt’s voice had sunk almost to a whisper, and Drake realized that he
was deeply affected.
“I offered God a bargain—in return for my wife’s life I promised that
I would endeavor to act as a Christian and that each action of my life
should be dictated by the teachings of Christ.”
Drake started up in his chair, and his hands tightly clutched the arms.
There was an expression of extreme wonderment on his face.
“Your wife is living—and——”
“Yes. My wife will live. Almost immediately afterwards she took a turn
for the better,” Gaunt answered quietly.
Again there was a silence, and Drake lived each second of it. His eyes
were fixed keenly on Gaunt’s face, and he could see nothing ignoble
there. It was strong, but could human man carry out such a vow? He
wanted to speak but dared not. Like a flash it was revealed to him what
a great issue was at stake. Should this millionaire be honest enough
to carry out his vow, untold good would result. But his hope fell
instantly. Such a man as Gaunt—who had lived as he had lived, could not
revolutionize his character by the mere making of a vow. To keep such a
bargain was an impossibility—and—yet——
Yes. There was a steady look on Gaunt’s face. He did not flinch, but
had the air of one who was weighted with a great burden.
“Why have you told me that?” Drake demanded hoarsely.
“I haven’t yet finished. I went further than I have said, for I vowed
to right the wrongs that I have done. Just imagine what that means.
It’s a Herculean task,” Gaunt said with a laugh that contained no mirth.
“Still I do not quite understand why you send for me,” Drake said
quietly.
“Because I don’t know what to do, and I want your advice.”
“You intend to carry out the promise you made to God, not merely in the
letter, but in the spirit?”
“I intend to keep my promise, and at the time, I made no reservations.
I understood what I was saying and I consider my wife’s life worth any
sacrifice,” Gaunt answered doggedly.
Drake did not speak but gave the millionaire a searching look. His
brain was working at high pressure, for he realized that Gaunt was
serious in his intention of performing his vow.
“I wonder if you have any conception of the magnitude of your
undertaking?” he asked very quietly.
“I am just beginning to catch a glimpse of it. As I have already
told you I am not a Christian, but I have some idea of the meaning
of religion. I realize that I shall have to regard everything from a
different point of view, and I fear that the task is beyond me. That’s
where you come in.”
“Still I do not understand.”
“It’s simple enough. I’m going to make you my conscience. You know
exactly what I have got to do, and it will be your duty to see that
I do it. I can foresee many situations which will require delicate
judgment, but I have confidence in you. I now formally offer you the
post of private chaplain to John Gaunt, millionaire, at any salary
which you like to name. It strikes me that the post will be no
sinecure,” Gaunt wound up quickly.
A look of distress came into Drake’s face.
“I cannot accept such a position. The responsibility would be too
great.”
“Think a moment. Remember the power for good that will rest in your
hands. Dare you refuse my offer?”
“It is such a vast thing. To right the wrongs that you have done. How
can you contemplate the task so calmly? Do you forget the origin of
your fortune? Do you forget the Congo?—with its cruelty and torture?”
“I forget nothing. What I have promised I will endeavor to carry out,”
Gaunt said quietly, but his face had grown very white.
“It may be your duty to use your millions to fight the rulers of the
Congo—to compel them to make the iniquities cease? Do you realize that
and can you carry it out?”
“Yes. To know me thoroughly, Drake, you must understand that I don’t
value my wealth one jot, save for the power it gives me.”
“I believe the man is in earnest,” Drake muttered, and he gazed at
Gaunt with something akin to admiration. “Will you give me a day to
think over the proposal?” he continued aloud. “I don’t like to take up
a thing like this without careful consideration. But if my answer is
‘yes,’ you may be sure that I will not look back.”
“I am quite willing.”
“But I must say at once that I can accept no salary. Fortunately I have
an income of a few pounds a week that obviates the necessity. I am glad
of it, for I shall feel more comfortable—if I accept your offer.”
“You must please yourself. So long as you say ‘yes’ I shall not
grumble. Now let us leave the subject until you have made up your mind.
You will find me at the office to-morrow morning. No—don’t light that
cigar again. Let me give you another one.”
Drake took it, and was about to strike a match when the door opened,
and a girl rushed in.
“John, I have just left Mildred. Let me congratulate you both. The baby
is a dear,” she said brightly.
“Ethel, may I introduce to you Mr. Drake, a clergyman who I hope will
be our domestic chaplain. Mr. Drake, this is my sister-in-law, Lady
Ethel Blythe,” Gaunt said with a grim smile.