She was not going to marry H. R., but if you intend to have it known
that you have refused to marry a man who is crazy to marry you, the
greater the man the greater the refusal. She added, with conviction:
"There is only one Rutgers like that and his first name is Hendrik."
Reggie nodded, looked at her, sighed, and began to dance.
He didn't touch H. R. as a dancer.
"Can you do the Rutgers Roll?" she asked.
"No!" he confessed.
She could never marry Reggie. She knew it now. But of course she would
not marry H. R.
In the mean time H. R., accompanied by the reporters, drove to the
Cardinal's residence. They explained their mission to a pleasant-faced
young priest and sent in their cards.
The young priest began to make excuses and spoke of the lateness of the
hour.
H. R. said to him, deferentially: "Monsignor, we have come to the
Cardinal because he is the supreme authority in this case. The Mayor of
New York and the representative of the Socialist press, Mr. Lubin, here,
have agreed to leave it to the decision of his Eminence."
The Cardinal sent back word that he would see Mr. Rutgers.
H. R. went in alone. He saw not the head of the Catholic hierarchy, but
a man in whose eyes was that light which comes from believing in God and
from hearing the truth from fellow-men who told him their sins. H. R.
bowed respectfully before the aged priest.
"How may I help you? asked the Cardinal. He was an old man and this was
a young man. No more; no less; both of them children.
"Your Eminence, I am the unfortunate American who in his misguided way
has tried to feed the hungry in order that New York's grown children may
realize that charity is not dead. If I have used the methods of a
mountebank it is because I have labored where God had been forgotten,
almost."
"Generalities are not always verities, though they may come close to
them. I know about your work. I shall be glad to do what I can for you."
"Thank you, sir. I promised to give ten thousand dollars in cash to any
New-Yorker who could answer this question: What is it we have all heard
about from earnest childhood and that we acknowledge exists; that is
neither a person nor a beast, neither a thing nor an object, but
something that no man can kill, though it is dead to-day; that all men
need and most New-Yorkers neglect; that should be present everywhere and
is found in no trade? The answer is a word of five letters and begins
with 'A.' There is a synonym that, though not exactly obsolete, is at
least obsolescent."
"Five letters? Is it in English?" smiled the Cardinal.
"It is in every good English dictionary. I think the dictionary is the
only place in which I can find it nowadays."
"Oh no, my son." And the Cardinal shook his head in kindly dissent.
"Reverend sir, I said anybody with brains could guess it."
"It was not an ingenuous question, Mr. Rutgers."
"It was a coupon that entitled anybody who held it to answer the
question and get ten thousand dollars. It was part of a ticket for
which the holder paid twenty-five cents to feed a starving fellow-being.
But what I wish you to do is to assure the reporters that it was a
legitimate question. The word is _Anima_."
"I knew it."
"Because you use it every day."
"But your condition--"
"New York's condition, your Eminence," corrected H. R., politely. "I
said the synonym, _soul_, would answer. Nobody won the ten thousand
dollars. New York will cudgel its brains because it did not win the ten
thousand dollars. In searching for the missing word it may find
something more precious--the missing _soul_."
"Your way is not our way, but perhaps--" The Cardinal was silent, his
kindly eyes meditatively bent on H. R.
"The reporters, your Eminence--" began H. R., apologetically.
"Ah yes!" And the white-haired prelate accompanied H. R. to the room
where the reporters were waiting.
"I have heard Mr. Rutgers's question. The word of five letters beginning
with an 'A' I think answers it, from his point of view, which is not
unreasonable. I cannot say that the inability to guess proves the
non-possession of brains--"
"The Cardinal knew at once," put in H. R.
"But that nobody should have guessed is astonishing."
"They were not all Christians," explained H. R.
"What is the answer?" asked a reporter.
"A word of five letters beginning with 'A,'" said H. R.
"Can't we publish it?"
"It is our secret now. New York is very rich. When it discovers that one
word--or its synonym of four letters--it will be infinitely richer in
every way."
The reporters brightened up. They saw columns and columns of guesses.
But the Cardinal looked thoughtful. Then he said to H. R.:
"Come and see me again."
"Thank you. I will, your Eminence."
The Cardinal bowed his head gravely and H. R. and the newspaper men
left.
"Are you a Catholic?" the _World_ man asked.
"No," answered H. R., doubtfully.
"All roads lead to Rome," interrupted Lubin, with a sneer.
"Excepting one, Lubin," said H. R., pleasantly. "Keep on going, my boy.
It's nice and warm there."