The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, September 13, 1903, Page 13

Monty gave way to the depression that Was bearing down upon him. It was the hardest task of his life to go on with his scheme in the face of opposition. He knew that every man and woman on board was aguinst the proposition, for his sake at least, and it was difficult to be arbitrary under the circumstances. Pur- posely he avoided Peggy all forenoon. His single glance at her face in the salon was enough to disturb him immeasurably. The spirits of the crowd were subdued. The North Cape had charms, but the proclamation concerning it had been too sndden—had reversed too quickly the gen- eral expectation and desire. Many of the guests had plans at home for August, and even those who had none were satiated with excitement. During the morning they gathered in little knots to discuss the sit- tion. They were all generous and each one was sure that he could cruise inde* nitely, if on Montys account the new voy- ege were not out of the question. They felt it theilr duty to take a desperate stand. The half-hearted lttle B solved themselves into onfl:z?\::’nx:rourfis and in the end there was a call for a gen- ;-.) meeting In the main cabin. Captain erry, the first mate, and the chief en- gineer were included In the call, but Montgomery Brewster was not to be ad- mitted. Joe Bragdon loyally agreed to keep him engeged elsewhers while the Imeeting was in progress. The doors were locked and a cursory glance assured the chairman of the meeting, Dan DeMll that no member of the party was miss- ing save the devoted Bragdon. Captain Perry was plainly nervous and disturbed. The others were the victims of a sup- pressed energy that presaged subsequent eruptions. An hour later the meeting broke up and the conspirators made thelr way to the deck. It was a strange fact that no one ‘went alone. They were in groups of three and four and the mystery that hung about them was almost perceptible. Not one was willing to face the excited, buoy- ant Brewster without help; they found strength and security in companionship. Peggy was the one rebel against the conspiracy, and yet she knew that the others were justified in the step they pro- posed to take She reluctantly joined them in the end, but felt that she was the darkest traitor in the crowd. Forget- ting ber own distress over the way in which Monty was squandering his for- tune, she stood out the one defender of his rights until the end and then admitted tearfully to Mrs. DeMille that she had been “quite unreasonable” in doing so. Alone in ber stateroom after signing the agreement, she wondered what he would think of her. She owed him so much that she at least should bave stood by him. She felt that he would be consclous of this. How could she have turned against him? He would not understand—of course, he would never understand. And be would hate ber with the others—more than the others. It was all a wretched muddie and she could not see her way out of it lionty found his guests very difficult. They listened to his plans with but little interest, and he could not but see that they wers uncomfortable. The situation was new to thelr experience, and they were under a strain. ““They mope around like & lot of pouting boys and girls,” he growled to himself. “But it's the North Cape now in spite of everything, I don't care if the whole crowd deserts me, my mind is made up.” Try as he would, "he could not see Peggy slone. He had much that he wanted to say to her and he hungered for the con- solation her approval would bring him, but she clung to Pettingill with a ten- acity that was discouraging. The old feeling of jealousy that was connected with Como again disturbed him. She thinks that I am a hopeless, brain- less 1diot,” he sald to himself. “And I don’t blame ber, either.” Just before nightfall he noticed that his friends were assembling in the bow. As he started to join the group “Sub- way” Smith and DeMille sdvanced to meet him. Some of the others were smil- ing a little sheepishly, but the two men were pictures of solemnity and decision. “Monty,” sald DeMille steadily, “we have been conmspiring against you and have decided that we sall for New York to-morrow morning.” Brewster stopped short and the expres- eion on his face was one they never could forget. Bewilderment, uncertainty and pain succeeded each other like flashes of light. Not a word was spoken for sev- eral seconds. The red of humiliation slowly mounted to his cheeks, while in his eyes wavered the look of one who has been hunted down. “You have decided?’ he asked lifelessly, end more than one heart went out in ty to him. “We hated to do it, Monty, but for your own sake there was no otner way,” sald “Subway” Smith quickly. “We took a vote and there wasn't a dissenting voice.” Tt is & plain case of mutiny, I take it,” sald Monty, utterly alone and heart sick. It isn't necessary to tell you why we have taken this step,” said DeMille. “It i1s heart breaking to oppose you at this stage of the game. You've been the best ever and. “Cut that,” cried Monty, and his confl- dence in himself was fast returning. “This is no time to throw bouquet: “We like you, Brewster,” Mr. Valen- tine came to the chairman’s assistance because the others had looked at him so appealingly. “We like you so well that we can't take the responsibility for your extravagance. It would disgrace us ail.” “That side of the matter was never mentioned,” cried Peggy indignantly, and then added with a catch in her voice, ‘We thought only of you.” “I appreclate your motives and I am grateful to you,” sald Monty. “I am more sorry than I can tell you that the cruise must end in this way, but I, too, have decided. The yacht will take you to some point where you can catch a steamer to New York. I shall secure pas- sage for the entire party and very soon you will be at home. Captain Perry, will you oblige me by mak- ing at once for any port that my guests may agree upon?’ He was turning away deliberately when “Subway” Smith de- tained him. “What do_you mean by getting a steamer to New York? Isa't the Flitter good enough?” he asked. “The Flitter is not going to New York just now,” answered Brewster flrmly, “notwithstanding your ultimatum. She is going to take me to the North Cap CHAPTER XXVIL “We have found a solution of our diffi- culties,” said DeMille at an executive meeting of the conspirators a little later, end his manner was so jubflant ev one_ became hopeful. st “esperate, but 1. think it will be effective. Monty has given us the privilege of leaving the yacht at any port where we can take a steamer to New York. Now, my suggestion is that we se- Ject the most convenient place for all of us, and obviously there is nothing quite so convenient as Boston.” “Dan DeMille, you are quite foolish,” eried his wife. “Who ever concelved such & ridiculous idea?” “Captain Perry has his instructions,” continued DeMille, turning to the captain. “Are we not actingalong the lines marked out by Brewster himself?" “I will sail for Boston if you say the word,” eald the thoughtful captain. “But he is sure to countermand such an order.” “He won't be able to, captain,” cried “Subway” Smith, who had for some time been eager to joln in the conversation. “This is a genuine, dyed-in-the-wool mu- tiny, and we expect to cary out the orig- inal plan, which was to put Mr. Brewster in irons until we are safe from all oppo- sition.” “He is my friend, Mr. Smith, and at least it is my duty to protect him from v indignity,” said the captain, stiffly. “You make for Boston, my dear cap- tain, and we'll do the res sald DeMille, “Mr. Brewster can’t countermand your orders unless he sees you ‘We'll ses to it that he has no chance to talk to you until we are in sight of Bos- ton harbor.” The captain looked doubtful and shook head as he walked away. At heart vas with the mutineers and his mind was made up to assist them as long as it was possible to do so without violating his obligations to Brewster. He felt guil- ty, however, in surreptitiously giving the er to clear for Boston at daybreak. The chief officers were let into the secret, but the sallors were kept in darkness re- garding the destination of the Flitter, Montgomery Brewster's guests were im- mensely bpleased with the scheme, al- though they were dublous about the out- come. Mrs. Dan regretted her hasty com- ment on the plan and entered into the plot with eagerness. In accordance with plans decided upon by the mutincers, Monty’s stateroom door was guarded through the night by two of the men. For three days and two nights the Flitter steamed westward into the At- lantic, with her temporary owner locked in his stateroom. The confinement was irksome, but he rather liked the sensa- tion of being interested in something be- sides money. He frequently laughed to himself over the absurdity of the situa- tion. His enemies were friends, true and devoted; his jallers were relentless, but they were considerate. The original or- der that he should be guarded by one man was violated on the first day. There were times when his guard numbered at least ten persons and some of them served tea and begged him to listen to reason. “It is difficult not to listen,” he said flercely. “It's like holding & man down and then asking him to be quiet. But my time is coming.” “Revenge will be his!" exclaimed Mrs. Dan, tragically. “You might have your term shortened on account of good conduct if you would only behave,” suggested Peggy, whose reserve was beginning to shorten. “Please be good and give in.” “I haven't been the whole cruise,” Mon- ty. “On deck I wouldn't be noticed, but here I am quite the whole thing. Besides I can,get out whenever I feel like it.” “I have a thousand dollars which says you can't,” sald DeMille, and Monty snapped him up so eagerly that he added, “that you can't get out of your own accord.” Monty acceded to the condition and offered odds on the proposition to the others, but there were nu takers. “That settles it,” he smiled grimly to himself. “I can make a thousand dol- lars by staying here and I can’t afford to escape.” On the third day of Monty’s imprison- ment the Fiitter began to roll heavily. At first he gloated over the discomfort of his guards who obviously did not like to stay below. “Subway” Smith and Bragdon were on duty and neither was famous as a good sailor. When Monty lighted his pipe there was consternation and “Subway” rushed on deck. “You are a brave man, Joe,” Monty said to the other and blew a cloud of smoke in his direction. “I knew you would stick to your post. You wouldn't leave it even if the ship should go down.” Bragdon had reached the stage where he dared not speak and was busying himself trying to “breathe with the motion of the boat,” as he had called it. "By Gad,” continued Monty, relent- happier during sald “His Jailers Were Relentless, but They Were Considerate.” lessly. “This smoke is getting thick. Some of this toilet water might help if 1 sprinkled it about.” One whifft of the sweet-smelling cologne was enough for Bragdon and he bolted up the companionway, leaving the stateroom door wide open and the prisoner free to go whnere he pleased. Monty’s first impulse was to follow, but he checked himself on the threshold. “Damn that bet with DeMille,” he said to himself, and added aloud to the fleeing guard, “The key, Joe, I dare you to come back and get it!” But Bragdon was beyond recall and Monty locked the door on the inside and passed the key through the ventilator, On deck a small part of the company braved the spray in tne lee of the deck bouse, but the others had long since gone below. The boat was pitching fur- jously in the ugliest sea it had encount- ered, and there was anxiety underneath Captain Perry's mask of unconcern. De- Mille and Lr. Lotless talked in the in person.- THE SUNDAY CALL, senseless way men have when they try to conceal their nervousness. But the women did not respond; they were in no mood for conversation. Only one of them was quite oblivious to personal discomfort and’ danger. Peggy Gray was thinking of the prison< er below. In a reflection of her own terror she pictured him crouching in the little stateroom, like a doomed criminal awaiting execution, alone, neglected, for- gotten, unpitied. At first she plealled with the men for his release, but they insisted upon waiting in the hope that a scare might bring him to his senses. Peggy saw that no help was to be se- cured from the other women, mugh they might care for Brewster's peace of mind and fety. Her heart was bitter toward every one responsible for the situation, and there was dark re- bellion tn her soul It culminated finally in & resolve to release Monty Brewster at any cost. With difficulty she made her way to the stateroom door, ciinging to sup- ports at times and then plunging vio- lently away from them. For some min- utes she listened, frantically clutching Brewster’s door and the wall-rail. There was no guard, amd the tumult of the sea drowned every sound within. Her imagination ran riot when her repeated calls were not answered. “Monty, Monty,” she cried, pounding wildly on the door. “Who is it? What is the trouble?’ came in muffled tones from within, and Peggy Dbreathed a prayer of thanks. Just then she discovered the key which Monty had dropped and quickly opened the door, expecting to nnd him cowering with fear. But the picture was differ- ent. The prisoner was seated on the divan, propped up with many pillows and reading with the aid of an electric light “The Intrusions of Peggy.” CHAPTER XXVIIL A CATASTROPHE. andOhlhe was Peggy’s only exclamation, re was a shad = ment In her eyes. S T Come in, Peggy, and I'll read aloud,” was Monty’s cheerful greeting as he stood before her. “No; I must go,” sald Peggy, confused- 1y. 1 thought you might be nervous about the storm—and—-" “And you came to let me out?” Monty had never been so happy. ‘‘Yes; and I don't care what the others say. I thought you were suffering—" But at that moment the boat gave a lurch which threw her across the threshold in- to Monty's arms. They crashed agalnst the wall and he held her a moment and forgot the storm. When she drew away from him she showed him the open door and freedom. She could not speak. ‘“Where are the others?’ he asked, bracing himself in the doorway. “Oh, Monty,” she cried, “‘we must no g0 to them. They will think me a traitor.” “Why were you a traitor, Peggy?’ he demanded, turning toward her suddenly. ““Oh—oh, because it seemed so cruel to keep you locked up through the storm,” she answered, blushing. “And there was no other reason?’ he persisted. “Don’t, please don't!” she cried, piteous- ly, and he misunderstood her emotion. It [ras clear that she was merely sorry for m. ““Never mind, Peggy; it's all right. You “Yowll Have to Give These People a Good Time During the Week.” stood by me and I'll stand by you. Come on; we'll face the mob and I'll do the fighting.” Together they made their way into the presence of the mutineers, who were crowded into the main cabin. “Well, here's a conspiracy,” cried Dan De Mille, but there was no anger in his voice. “How did you escape? I was just thinking of unlocking your door, Monty, but the key seemed to be miss % Peggy displayed it triump “By Jove, cried Dan. “‘This is rank treachery. Who was on guard?”’ A steward rushing through the cabin at this moment in answer to frantic calls from Bragdon furnished an eloquent re- ply to the question. “It was simple,” said Monty. “The guards deserted their post and left the key behind.” ““Then it is up to me to pay you a thou- sand dollars.” “Not at all,”protested Monty, taken aback. “I did not escape of my own ac- cord. I had help. The money is yours. Apd now that I am free,” he added, quietly, et me say that this boat does not go to Boston.” “Just what I expected,” sald Vander- pool. “She's going straight to New York!" declared Monty. The words were hardly uttered when a heavy sea sent him sprawling across the cabin, and he con- cluded, ‘“or to the bottom.” “Not so bad as that,” said Captain Perry, whose entrance had been some- what hastened by the lurch of the boat. “But until this blows over I must keep you below.” He laughed, but he saw they were not deceived. ‘The seas are pretty heavy and the decks are being holystoned for rothing, but I wouldn't like to have any one washed overboard by mistake.” The hatches were battened down, and it was a sorry company that tried to while away the evening in the main cabin. Monty's chaffing apout the ad- vantages of the North Cape over the stormy Atlantic was not calculated to raise the drooping spirits, and it was very early when he and his shattered guests turned in. There was little sl on board the Flitter that night. Even®f it had been easy to forget the danger, the creak- ing of the ship and the incessant roar of the water were enough for wakefulness. With each lurch of the boat it seemed more incredible that it could endure. It ‘was such a mite of a thing to meet so furious an attack. As it rose on the wav to pause in terror on its crest before sink- ing shivering into the trough it made the breath come short and the heart stand still. Through the night the fragile little craft fought its lonely way, bravely ig- noring its own weakness and the infinite strength of its enemy. To the captain, lashed to the bridge, there were hours of grave anxiety—hours when he feared each wave as it approached, and wondered what new damage it had done as it re- ceded. As the wind increased toward morning he felt a sickening certainty that the brave little boat was beaten. Bome- how she seerned to lose courage, to waver & bit and almost give up the fight. He watched her miserably as the dismal dawn came up out of the sea. Yet it was not until 7 o'clock that the crash came, which shook the pasengers out of the! berths and filled them with shivering terror. The whirling of the broken shaft seemed to consume the ship. In every cabin it spoke with horrible vivid- ness of disaster. The clamor of volces and the rush of many feet, which fol- lowed, meant but one thing. Almost in- stantly the machinery was stopped—an ominous silence in the midst of the dull roar of the water and the cry of the the sea.” It was a terrified crowd that quickly gathered in the main cabin, but it was a brave one. There were no cries and few tears. They expected anything and were ready for the worst, but they would not show the white feather. It was Mrs. Dan who broke the tension. *I made sure of my pearls,” she said; “I thought they would be appreciated at the bottom of the sea.” Brewster came upon their laughter. “I like your nerve, people,” he exclaimed, “you are all right. It won't be so bad now. The wind has dropped.” Toward night the worst was over. The sea had gone down and the hatches were opened for a while to admit air, though it was still too rough to venture out. The next morning was bright and clear. When the company gathered on deck the havoc created by the storm was apparent. Two “The Three Days in England Were Marked by Unparalleled Extravagance,” of the boats had been completely carried away and the launch was rendered use- less by a large hole in the stern. “You gflon’t mean to say that we will drift about until the repairs can be made?” asked Mrs. Dan in alarm. “We are three hundred miles off the course already,” explained Monty, “and it will be pretty slow traveling under sail.” It was decided to make for the Canary Islands, where repairs could be made and the voyage resumed. But where the wind had raged a few days before, it had now disappeared altogether, and for a week the Flitter tossed about absolute- 1y unable to make headway. The first of August had arrlved and Monty himself was beginning to be nervous. With the fatal day not quite two months away, things began to look serious. Over one hundred thousand dollars would remain after he had settled the expenses of the cruise, and he was helplessly drifting in mid-ccean. Even if the necessary repalrs could be made promptly, it would take the* Flitter fourteen days to sail from the Canaries to New York. Figure as hard as he could he saw no way out of the unfortunate situation. Two days more elapsed and still no sign of a breeze. He made sure that September 23d would find him still drifting and still in possession of one hundred thousand superfluous dollars. At the end of ten days the yacht had progressed but two hundred miles and Monty was beginning to plan the rest of his existence on a capital of $100,00. He had given up all hope of the Sedgwick legacy and was trying to be resigned to his fate, when a tramp steamer was sud denly sighted. Brewster ordered the man on watch to fly a flag of distress. Then he reported to the captain and told what he had done. With a bound the captain rushed on deck and tore the flag from the sailor's hand. “That was my order,” sald Monty, net- tled at the captain’s manner. “You want them to get a line on us and claim salvage, do you?” “What do you mean?" “If they get a line on us in response to that flag they will claim the entire value of the ship as salvage. You want to spend another $200,000 on this boat?" “l didn't understand,” said Monty, sheepishly. “But for God's sake, fix it up somehow. Can’t they tow us? I'll pay for itg’ Communication was slow, but after an apparently endless amount of signaling the captain finally announced that the freight steamer was bound for South- ampton and would tow the Flitter to that point for a price. “Back o Southampton groaned Monty. “That means months before we get back to New York.” “He says he can get us to Southampton in ten days,” interrupted the captain. “I can do it! I can do it!" he cried, to the consternation of his guests, who won- dered if his mind were affected. “If he i land us in Southampton by the 27th I'll lpny 1'.1|m up to one hundred thousand dol- ars.” After what seemed an age to Monty, the Flitter, in tow of the freighter Glencoe, arrived at Bouthampton. The captain of the freight boat was a thrifty Scotchman whose ship was traveling with a light cargo, and he was npt, therefore, averse to taking on a tows But the thought of salvage had caused him to ask a high price for the service, and Monty, after a futile attempt at bargaining, had agreed. The price was fifty thousand dollars, and the young man believed more than ever that everything was ruled by a wise Providence, which had not deserted him. His guests were heartsick when they heard the figure, but were as happy as Monty at the prospect of reaching land again. The Glencoe made several stops before Southampton was finally reached on the 28th of August, but when the English coast was sighted every one was too eager to go ashore to begrudge the extra day. Dan DeMille asked the entire party to be- come his guests for a week's shooting trip in Scotland, but Monty vetced the plan in the most decided manner, ‘““We sail for New York on the fastest boat,” said Monty, and hurried off to learn the saflings and book his party. The first boat was to sail on the 30th and he could only secure accommodations for twelve of his guests. The rest were obliged to follow a week later. This was readily agreed to and Bragdon was left to see to the necessary repalrs op the Flitter and arrange for her homeward “The Division of the Party Was Tactfully Arranged by Mrs. de Mille.” voyage. Monty gave Bragdon fifteen thousand dollars for this purpose and ex- tracted a solemn promise that the entire amount would be used. “But it won't cost half of this,” protest- ed Bragdon. “You will have to give these people a good time during the week and—well—you have promiced that I shall never see an- other penny of it. Some day you'll know why I do this” and Monty felt easfer ‘when his friend agreed to abide by his wishes. He discharged the Flitter's crew, with five months’ pay and the reward prom- ised on the night of Peggy’s rescue, which was productive of touching emotions. Captain Perry and his officers never for- got the farewell of the prodigal, nor could they hide the regret that marked their weather-beaten faces. Plans to dispose of his household goods and the balance of his cash in the short time that would be left after he arrived in New York occupied Monty’s attention, and most men would have given up the scheme as hopeless. But he did not de- spair, He was still game, and he pre- pared for the final plunge with grim de- termination. . “There should have been a clause in Jones’ conditions about ‘weather permit- ting,’” he said to himself. “A ship- wrecked mariner should not be expected to svend a milllon dollars.” The division of the party for the two sailings was tactfully arranged by Mrs. DeMille. The Valentines chaperoned the ‘“‘second table,” as “Subway’ Smith called those who were to take the later boat, and she herself looked after the first lot. Peggy Gray and Monty Brewster were in the DeMille party. The three days in England were marked by unparalleled ex- travagance on Monty’'s part. One of the local hotels was subsidizea for a week, although the party only stayed for luncheon, and the Cecil in London was a galner by several thousand dol- lars for the brief stop there. It was a careworn little band that took Monty's special train for Southampton and em- barked two days later. The “rest cure" that followed was welcome to all of them and Brewster was especially glad that his race was almost run. Four days out from New York, then three days, then two days, and then Brewster began to feel the beginning of the final whirlwind in profligacy clouding him oppressively, ominously, unkindly. Down in his stateroom he drew new es- timates, new calculations, and tried to balance the old ones so that they ap- peared in the light most favorable to his designs. Going over the statistics care- fully, he estimated that the cruise, includ- ing repairs and the return of the yacht to New York, would cost him §210,000 in round figures. One hundred and thirty- three days marked the length of the voy- age when he reckoned by time and, as near as he could get at it, the expense averaged $1580 a day. According to the contract, he was to pay for the yacht, exclusive of the cuisine and personal ser- vice. And he had found it simple enough to spend the remaining $1080. There were days, of course, when fully $000 disap- peared, and there were others on wh he spent less than $1000, but the average was secure. Taking everything into con- sideration, Brewster found that his for- tune had dwindled to a few paltry thou- sands in addition to the proceeds which would come to him from the sale of his furniture. On the whole he was satlis- fied. Immediately aftér the landing Brewster and Gardner was busy with the details of settlement. After clearing up all of the obligations arising from the cruisa they felt the appropriateness of reflec- tion. It was a difficult moment—a mo- ment when undelivered reproofs were in the air. But Gardner seemed much the more melancholy of the two. Piles of newspapers lay scattered about the floor of the room in which they sat. Every one of them contained sensational stories of the prodigels trip, with pic- tures, incidents and predictions. Monty was pained, humiliated and resentful, but he was honest enough to admit the jus- tification of much that was said of him. With the condemnation of his friends ringing in his troubled braln, with the sneers of acquaintances to distress his pride. with the jibes of the comic papers to torture him remorselessly, Brewster was fast becoming the most miserable man in° New York. Friends of former days gave him the cut direct, clubmen ignored him or scorned him openly, wom- en chilled him with the iciness of un- spoken reproof, and all the world hung with shadows. The doggedness of de- spalr kept him up, but the strain that pulled down on him was so relentleds that the struggle was losing its equality. Hs had not expected such a home coming. Compared with his former self Monty was now almost a physical wreck, hag- gard, thin and deflant, a shadow of the once debonalr young New Yorker, an ob- Ject of pity and scorn. Ashamed and de- epairing, he had almost lacked the cour- age to face Mrs. Gray. The consolation he once gained through her he now de- nied himself and his suffering, peculiar as it was, was very real. In absolute recklessness he gave dinner affer dinner, party after party, all on a most lavish scale, many of his guests laughed at him openly while they enjoyed his hospitality. The real friends remonstrated, pleaded. did everything within their power to check his awful rush to poverty, but with- out success; he was not to be stopped At last the furniture began to go, then the plate, then all the priceless bric-a- brac. Plece by piece it disappeared until the apartments were empty and he had squandered almost all of the $40.350 aris- ing from the sales. The servants were paid off, the apartments relinquished, and he was beginning to know what it meant to be “on his uppers.”” At the banks be ascertained that the imterest on his moneys amounted to $19,140 86. A week before the 23d of September, the whole million was gone, including the amounts won in lumber and fuel and other luck- less enterprises. He still had about $17.- 000 of his interest money in the banks, but he had a billion pangs in his heart—the interest on his improvidence He found some delight in the discovery that the servants had robbed him of not less than $3500 worth of his belongings, including the Christmas presents that he in honor could not have sold. His only encouragement came from Grant and Ripley, the lawyers. They inspired con- fidence in his lagging brain by urging him on to the end, promising brightness thereafter. Swearengen Jones was as mute as the mountains In which he lived. There was no word from him, there was no assurance that he would approve of what had been dome to obliterate Edwin Peter Brewster's legacy. CHAPTER XXX. “Monty, you are breaking my heart,” was the first and only appeal Mrs. Gray ever made to him. It was two days be- fore the twenty-third and. it did not come until after the “second-hand store” men had uriven away from her door with the bulk of his clothing in their wagon. She and Peggy had seen little of Brewster, and nis nervous restlessness alarmed them. HIs return was the talk of the town. Men tried to shun him, but he per- sistently wasted some portion of his for- tune on his unwilling subjects. When he gave $5000 in cash to a Home for News- boys, even his friends jumped to the con- clusion that he was mad. It was his only gi.. to charity and he excused his motive in giving at this time by recalling Sedg- wick's injunction to ‘“give sparingly to charity.” Everything was gone from his thoughts but the overpowering eagerness to get rid of a few troublesome thou- sands. He felt llke an outcast, a pariah, a hated object that Infected every one with whom he came in contact. Sleep was almost impossible, eating was a farce; he gave elaborate suppers which he did not touch. Aiready his best friends were discussing the advisability of putting him In a sanitarium where his mind might be preserved. His case was looked upon as peculiar in the history of mankind; no writer could find a parallel, no one could imagine a comparison. Mrs. Gray met him in the hallway of her home as he was nervously pocketing the 360 he had received in payment for his clothes. Her face was like that of a ghost. He tried to answer her reproof, but the words would not come, and he fied to his room, locking the door after him. He was at work there on the transaction that was to record the total disappearance of Edwin Brewster's million—his final report to Swearengen Jones, executor of James Sedgwick's will. On the floor were bun- dles of packages, carefully wrapped and tied, and on the table was the long sheet of white paper on which the report was being drawn. The packages contained re- ceipts—thousands upon thousands of them —for the dollars he had spent in less than a year. They were there for the inspec- tion of Swearengen Jones, faithfully and honorably kept—as if the old Westerner would go ever in detail the countless doc- uments. He had the accounts balanced up to the hour. On the long sheet lay the record of his ruthlgssness, the epitaph of a million. In his pocket was exactly $79 08. This was to last him for less than forty-eight hours and—then it would go to join the rest. It was his plan to visit Grant & Ripley on the afternoon of the 22d and to read the report to them in anticipation of the meeting with Jones on the day following. Just before noon, after his encounter with Mrs. Gray, he came down stairs and boldly, for the first time in days, sought out Peggy. There was the old smile in his eyes and the old heartiness in his voice when he came upon her in the li- brary. She was not reading. Books, pleasures and all the joys of life had fled from her mind, and she thought only of the disaster that was coming to the boy she had always loved. His heart smote him as he looked into the deep, somber, frightened eyes, running over with love and fear for him. “Peggy, do you think I'm worth any- thing more from your mother? Do you think she will ask me to live here any longer?” he asked, steadily, taking her hand in his. Hers was cold, his as hot as fire. “You know what you said away off yonder somewhere, that she’d let me live here if I deserved it. I am a pauper, Peggy, and I'm afraid I'll—I may have to get down to drudgery again. Will she turn me out? You know I must have somewhere to live. Shall it be the poor- house? Do you remember saying one day that I'd end in the poorhouse?” She was looking into his eyes, dreading what might be seen in them. But there was no gleam of insanity there, there was no fever; instead there was the quiet smile of the man who is satisfled with himself and the world. His voice bore traces of emotion, but it was the voice of one who has perfect control of his wits. “Is it all—gone, Monty?" she asked, al- most in a whisper. “Here is the residue of my estate,” he said, opening his purse with steady fin- gers. “I'm back to where I left off a year ago. The million is gone and my wings are clipped.” Her face was white, her heart was in the clutch of ice. How could he be so calm about it when for him she was suffering such agony? Twice she started to speak, but her voice failed her. She turned slowly and walked to 18