FullReads

“Nonsense. Your misfortune! What rot!” Holcombe growled resentfully. His eyes wandered around the room as though looking for some one who might enjoy the situation with him, and then returned to Allen’s face. “You mustn’t talk like that to me,” he said, in serious remonstrance. “A man who has robbed people who trusted him for three years, as you have done, can’t afford to talk of his misfortune. You were too long about it, Allen. You had too many chances to put it back. You’ve no feelings to be hurt. Besides, if you have, I’m in a hurry, and I’ve not the time to consider them. Now, what I want of you is–“

“Mr. Holcombe,” interrupted the other, earnestly.

“Sir,” replied the visitor.

“Mr. Holcombe,” began Allen, slowly, and with impressive gravity, “I do not want any words with you about this, or with any one else. I am here owing to a combination of circumstances which have led me through hopeless, endless trouble. What I have gone through with nobody knows. That is something no one but I can ever understand. But that is now at an end. I have taken refuge in flight and safety, where another might have remained and compromised and suffered; but I am a weaker brother, and–as for punishment, my own conscience, which has punished me so terribly in the past, will continue to do so in the future. I am greatly to be pitied, Mr. Holcombe, greatly to be pitied. And no one knows that better than yourself. You know the value of the position I held in New York City, and how well I was suited to it, and it to me. And now I am robbed of it all. I am an exile in this wilderness. Surely, Mr. Holcombe, this is not the place nor the time when you should insult me by recalling the–“

“You contemptible hypocrite,” said Holcombe, slowly. “What an ass you must think I am! Now, listen to me.”

“No, you listen to me,” thundered the other. He stepped menacingly forward, his chest heaving under his open shirt, and his fingers opening and closing at his side. “Leave the room, I tell you,” he cried, “or I shall call the servants and make you!” He paused with a short, mocking laugh. “Who do you think I am?” he asked; “a child that you can insult and gibe at? I’m not a prisoner in the box for you to browbeat and bully, Mr. District Attorney. You seem to forget that I am out of your jurisdiction now.”

He waited, and his manner seemed to invite Holcombe to make some angry answer to his tone, but the young man remained grimly silent.

“You are a very important young person at home, Harry,” Allen went on, mockingly. “But New York State laws do not reach as far as Africa.”

“Quite right; that’s it exactly,” said Holcombe, with cheerful alacrity. “I’m glad you have grasped the situation so soon. That makes it easier for me. Now, what I have been trying to tell you is this. I received a letter about you to-night. It seems that before leaving New York you converted bonds and mortgages belonging to Miss Martha Field, which she had intrusted to you, into ready money. And that you took this money with you. Now, as this is the first place you have stopped since leaving New York, except Gibraltar, where you could not have banked it, you must have it with you now, here in this town, in this hotel, possibly in this room. What else you have belonging to other poor devils and corporations does not concern me. It’s yours as far as I mean to do anything about it. But this sixty thousand dollars which belongs to Miss Field, who is the best, purest, and kindest woman I have ever known, and who has given away more money than you ever stole, is going back with me to-morrow to New York.” Holcombe leaned forward as he spoke, and rapped with his knuckles on the table. Allen confronted him in amazement, in which there was not so much surprise at what the other threatened to do as at the fact that it was he who had proposed doing it.