FullReads

“Perhaps it is,” said the man, who had also heard. “You wait and watch
for him. I’ll go outside and attend to his reindeer.”

He made a movement to withdraw, but the girl caught him tightly by the
hand.

“If you are his friend,” she said, “you can introduce us. You know our
names and–“

The golden opportunity was gone.

“Don’t say a word,” whispered the man quickly. “We’ll surprise him. Be
very still.”

He reached his hand up and turned out the light. He half hoped he might
be mistaken, or that in the darkness they would not be seen, but no.
They all heard the footsteps on the stair. They came down slowly, and it
was evident that whoever was approaching was using every precaution not
to be heard. “Crackerjack” was in a frightful situation. He did not know
whether to jerk himself away from the two children, for the boy had
clasped him around the leg and the girl still held his hand, or whether
to wait.

The power of decision suddenly left him, for the steps stopped before
the door. There was a little click as a hand pressed a button on the
wall and the whole room was flooded with light from the great
electrolier in the centre. Well, the game was up. “Crackerjack” had been
crouching low with the children. He rose to his feet and looked
straightly enough into the barrel of a pistol held by a tall, severe
looking man in a rich silk dressing robe, who confronted him in the
doorway. Two words broke from the lips of the two men, the same words
that had fallen from their lips when they met ten years before.

“John!” cried the elder man, laying the weapon on a nearby table.

“Will!” answered “Crackerjack” in the same breath.

As if to mark the eternal difference as before, the one was clothed in
habiliments of wealth and luxury, the other in the rags and tatters of
poverty and shame.

“Why, that isn’t Santa Claus,” instantly burst out the little girl,
“that’s papa.”

“Dis is Santy Claus’s friend, papa,” said the little boy. “We were doin’
to su’prise him. He said be very still and we minded.”

“So this is what you have come to, John,” said the elder man, but there
was an unwonted gentleness in his voice.

“I swear to God I didn’t know it was your house. I just came in here
because the window was open.”

The other pointed to the safe.

“But you were–“

“Of course I was. You don’t suppose I wandered in for fun, do you? I’ve
got a little girl of my own, and her name’s Helen, too; our mother’s
name.”

The other brother nodded.

“She’s hungry and cold and there’s no Christmas for her or her mother.”

“Oh, Santy has been here already,” cried Master John Williams, running
toward the great fireplace, having just that moment discovered the
bulging stockings and piles of gifts. His sister made a move in the same
direction, for at the other corner hung her stocking and beneath it her
pile, but the man’s hand unconsciously tightened upon her hand and she
stopped.

“I’ll stay with you,” she said, after a moment of hesitation. “Tell me
more about your Helen.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” He released her hand roughly. “You musn’t
touch me,” he added harshly. “Go.”

“You needn’t go, my dear,” said her father quickly. “Indeed, I think,
perhaps–“

“Is your Helen very poor?” quietly asked the little girl, possessing
herself of his hand again, “because if she is she can have”–she looked
over at the pile of toys–“Well, I’ll see. I’ll give her lots of things,
and–“

“What’s this?” broke out the younger man harshly, extending his hand
with the letter in it toward the other.