“They are loaded--that's the reason--loaded to the muzzle, and they'd
come pretty near blowing up your establishment. You know my reputation
possibly.”
“Oh, very well.”
“Then you know that I am not in the habit of going off at half-cock.
I tell you the facts would put you squarely on the Judas roll, and it
isn't a popular part to play. Briefly, the facts are: Norris suffered
for a friend, and that puts him on a plane so high that it isn't safe to
touch him.”
“On your word, Mr. Potter, I will do what I can to kill the story--now
and hereafter,” said he. “The young man who wrote it is a decent fellow
and will soon be in my employ. But of course Norris will decline to be
put in high places.”
Even this enlightened editor saw that a man who had suffered prison
blight was a kind of frost-bitten plum. I left him with a feeling of
discouragement in the world and its progress.
Before a week had passed I was summoned to the home of Norris and found
him ill in bed. He was in the midst of a nervous breakdown which had
seemed to begin with a critical attack of indigestion. It wearied him
even to sign and execute his will, and I saw him for only a few minutes,
and not again for months.
He improved rapidly, and one day Gwendolyn Norris called at my office.
The family were sailing for Hamburg within a week to spend the rest of
the winter at Carlsbad and Saint Moritz. She said:
“Father wishes me to begin my business career, and so I've been looking
after the details, and you must tell me if there's anything that I have
forgotten.”
I went over all the arrangements regarding cats and dogs and horses and
tickets and hotel accommodations, and then asked, playfully:
“What provision have you made for the young men you are leaving?”
“There's only, one,” said she, with laughing eyes, “and he can take care
of himself. He doesn't seem to need any of my help. But he's fine. I
recommend him to you as a friend.”
“Yes, I understand. You want me to get his confidence and see that he
goes to bed early and doesn't forget his friends.”
She blushed and laughed, and added:
“Or get into bad company!”
“You're a regular ward politician!” I said. “Don't worry. I'll keep my
eye on him.”
“You don't even know his name,” she declared.
“Don't I? The name Richard is written all over your face.”
“How uncanny!” she exclaimed. “I'm going to leave you.” Then she added,
with a playful look in her eyes, “You know it's a dangerous place for
American girls who--who are unattached.”
“We don't want to frighten him.”
“It wouldn't be possible--he's awfully brave,” said she, with a merry
laugh as she left me.
That was the last I saw of them before they sailed.
My friend had taken his doctor with him, and soon the latter wrote me
from the mountain resort that Norris had improved, but that I must not
appeal to him in any matter of business. All excitement would be bad for
him, and if it came suddenly might lead to fatal results.