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VIII.
HE broker reached for his note book.
He was a man with a well proportioned
figure, and a face that was almost clas
sic in outline. The features were chis
eled, the blue eyes had the sincerity of
sunlight, and while the mouth shut firm
ly, there was not a trace of grimness
about it.
“Are you going to get married,
T
Reece?” he said, in a deep, mellow voice, “and
take a trip around the world?”
“No, Chandos,” Dr. Redmond replied, “I would
not put a mortgage on my pet sky scraper for
personal reasons.”
“Then you want this money for impersonal
realites?”
“les, for the Merrill Mission. I have seen Dr.
Merrill stagger under the weight of it, until it has
got on my nerves. The unfortunates of this city,
and there are so many of them, Chandos, as you
have good reasons to know, ought not to be Dr.
Merrill’s burden any more than yours or mine. It
is time, and high time, somebody put their shoulder
to the wheel. He had enough to carry, Heaven
knows, with the sick and poor of his congregation
and Infirmary, without that all over-shadowing
mortgage. I am worth $250,000 and I can carry
that whole thing, I believe, without turning a hair.
I take the risk. I am willing to take the risk!”
“You are the whole show, Reece.”
‘ * You can hold my bond as collateral, until you
can get the Abstract of Title run,, and then we can
transfer the mortgage from the Merrill Mission to
my office building, which ascends twenty-four
stories into the blue of the firmament.”
“Why do you wish the cash tomorrow, Reece?”
“Because I promised Dr. Merrill to demolish his
pet horror a little on that date.”
“Then the mortgage will really rest on your
personal note.”
“Secured,” said Dr. Redmond, “five times over
by my bond. I have $30,000 in hand. Tomorrow
my personal banker, Cardross, loans me $20,000 for
ninety days.”
“Stand up, Reece,” Chandos commanded, with
a sudden, sweet gravity, and acting on the impulse
of the moment, he obliged him. “You are the
bigest young man,” the banker said, with a tender
inflexion in his voice, as his arm fell easily about
the shoulders, “within my circle. There have been
some large, financial transactions over my desk, but
this is the climax, not in figures but in fact, since
it is for Humanity. Write that in Greek across the
end of your check, and keep a souvenir for those
who will come after you.”
“Reece Barrows, my nephew, might appreciate
it,” he answered, with a sigh, “twenty years
hence. ’ ’
Chandos wrote the note for $50,000 and Reece
signed it; then the broker tore a check out of his
book, filled it, and pushed both papers across the
desk to the young physician.
Dr. Redmond smiled, as he read the broker’s
check, made out to him for SIO,OOO.
“Chandos, you are a brick,” he said, his voice
husky with emotion.
“An obscure one,” the broker returned with a
smile, “in the Temple of Brotherhood. You and
Dr. Merrill achieve so much for others, that it
almost amounts to a monop dy of charity. But I
say where is that distinguished brother-in-law of
yours, Leighton Barrows? He ought not to allow
you to play this magnificent game of solitaire, with
out showing his hand.”
“He is en route to Canada. I phoned doWn to
Barrow Hall this afternoon,”
“Well, that wasn’t particularly cheering news,
just at this crisis, was it?”
“No; but I will make him pay that bank note for
$15,000 I expect to make tomorrow, or wring his
neck. ’ ’
THE 'MISSION GIRL
Odessa Strickland Payne,
Author of "Psyche, ” "Esther Ferrall’s Experiment,” Etc.
The Golden Age for July 16, 1908.
Chandos’ blue eyes gleamed with merriment.
“The beloved junior would come in for all your
money, in the event of your translation, eh?”
“Yes, in the event your experiment leaves me
anything to bequeath him.”
Dr. Redmond bent down over the great mahogany
desk.
“Meantime, Chandos,” he continued, a hint
of controlled feeling in his voice, “the blessing of
the unfortunates be upon you.”
“And a hundred fold more,” the broker returned,
“upon the Son of Mary, who has made their cause
his own. ’ ’
Then, without another word, they shook hands
and Reece went his way.
As Dr. Redmond struck the sidewalk, aflame
with sunset light, he muttered:
“And now the goal begins to dawn on my anxious
vision. Ye Gods, if Cardross does not turn me
down tomorrow, the thing will be achieved. Well!
we will see, what we see. But the Padre must be
praying for me. Chandos is a good man and in
the inner circle of latter day saints. Some people
do not think that anybody is trying to do right now,
but I know better. A number of men serve, by
order of the King, who are my personal friends.”
Dr. Redmond stopped at a florist’s, and sent a
cluster of pink carnations out to Lon Gris; during
his week’s absence from the Infirmary he had never
forgotten to remind him in this way of his unalter
able affection.
After this, he boarded a passing trolley car for
his home. The house was full of beautiful summer
stillness, cool, shadowy, and fragrant with the
delicate perfume of freshly cut flowers. There was
apparently no one at home.; and Reece looked
through the double parlors and sitting room and
library, without discovering either Sylvia or Mrs.
Rawson. But he knew that the side veranda at the
back of the house was a favorite resort, and when
he stepped upon the rug of the summer parlor, he
was not surprised to find Sylvia in a wicker rocking
chair among the vines. Her white evening dress
furnished a pleasing contrast to the back-ground
of gently swaying leaves. She held in her hand
the last page of a letter, and the balance was
scattered about her prettily slippered feet. Her
eyes were full of dreamful happiness, and the
faintest curve of a smile lingered on her lips.
“ ‘Across the miles and miles of blue,
Which part us two,
I feel the thought waves vibrate from me to you. ’ ’ ’
Reece quoted. Sylvia stooped and picked up the
scattered pages of her letter with a soft blush.
“Reece, I thought you were down town,” she
said. “What has happened to bring you home at
this unusual hour?”
“Nothing more terrible than a few hours of
leisure were suddenly allotted me. Would you like
a long motor ride?”
“I can think of nothing more delightful in the
whole world,” Sylvia answered enthusiastically .as
she got to her feet.
“Well, we will let Sanders take us in your ear,”
he said quietly. “I do not desire any responsibility,
but I do want a long talk with you.”
And something wistful in the young* physician’s
eye, made Sylvia kiss her finger tips lightly toward
him, as she turned away to prepare for the ride.
Reece sat down in the wicker chair which Sylvia
had vacated. “I believe that 1 could do it,” he
said in the silence, “if I would put all my reserve
force into the fight as I have today. But I will
not try,” he went on after a long pause, “either
because of my stubborn pride, or that I dare not
risk failure. The Padre needs me and the boys
at the Infirmary, and the game isn’t so long.
Every hour brings nearer the inevitable solution
of the mystery, and the end.”
“Reece,” said a gay voice from the doorway,
where Sylvia had re-appeared, beautifully gowned
in Alice blue, “you look like the Red Cross Knight
in ray best beloved picture up-stairs. You have
his very expression these last few days.”
“Have I?” he answered as lightly. “How would
you define it?”
Sylvia drew a long breath.
“Like a King who has renounced his throne,”
she said in a low tone .as she led the way to the
front door, where the red motor car and Sanders
waited to whirl them away into the sunset pano
rama of the encircling hills.
The next morning brought the financial crisis
on, and Dr. Redmond, in order to meet it on time,
walked into his bank at exactly half past nine
o’clock. The building was entirely of marble, and
the great windows let in the light with a brilliancy
that harmonized somehow with the soft chink of
coin behind the bronze barred enclosures that
guarded the working force of a bank whose splendid
equipment on all lines, outranked everything in
the city.
Dr. Redmond deposited his note for $50,000 with
the magical signature of Chandos across the back,
and his subscription checks for $40,000 to his per
sonal credit, and then he walked back to the private
office of the President.
Allen Cardross was a white haired, well pre
served man, with eyes as blue as periwinkles, and
a smile that held a charm as rare as a woman s.
His manner was both gracious and stately; and
while he evidently respected himself, he also res
pected others in away that was calculated to put
the humblest at ease.
“Good morning, Reece,” he said genially.
“Good morning, Mr. Cardross,” Dr. Redmond
answered cheerily, and then as he sat down by the
desk of the banker, he placed his open bank book
before him, with one word:
‘ ‘ Inspect. ’ ’
Mr. Cardross arched his eyebrows a trifle.
“$90,000. Well, Reece?”
‘‘ I wish $15,000 more on my personal note, this
morning.”
“Are you building, Reece?”
“Not on earth. 1 wish to pay off the SIOO,OOO
mortgage and interest on the Merrill Mission,
immortalize myself, and die young and poor.
Then briefly but eloquently he told his banker t
the same story he had told his broker, adding to it
a tender little sketch of Lon Gris, his favorite but
most hopeless patient at the Infirmary.
“Is it true,” Mr. Cardross observed, “that Dr.
Merrill spends the larger half of his salary on
others, the unfortunates of the various classes, who
regard the Mission as the last Mecca of Hope ?
“Perfectly true,” Dr. Redmond answered.
And the man who was the greatest power com
mercially in the city, touched an electric button
on his desk. The cashier, a tall, handsome blond,
came to the door and bowed.
“Credit Dr. Redmond,” he said briefly, “with
$25,000 and charge to my personal account.”
Reece sat still. He had asked only for $15,000;
but he surmised that there was a reason behind
the generous gift.
“I want Merrill,” Mr. Cardross explained, “to
have the pleasure of the salary he earns . . one
year. You can put the odd SIO,OOO on call, as an
emergency fund. ’ ’
I can t thank you, Mr. Cardross,” Reece said
gravely, because this is one of the times when it
is utterly impossible. But I sincerely appreciate
the peisonal kindness of it all, although I can not
express it.”
He mused a moment.
lor words, like Nature, half reveal
And half conceal the Soul within.’ ”
“Poetry doesn’t get loose often in here,” said Mr.
( aidioss, relieving the tension. “I wouldn’t have
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