The Stark County Democrat. [volume] (Canton, Ohio) 1833-1912, 1882-07-20
THOMAS CRANES OATH.


Thomas Crane counted the strokes as
thew we're given by the tall old clock in
the hall. and rose regretfully. Twelve,
and I mnst 90" he said, which to Harry
Fenton meant that his friend would
stand up and talk for an hour in exactly
the same way in which he had talked
for six hours sitting, that he would talk
for half hour longer in the hall, hnlsh
with fifteen minutes outside the door,
and that at fifteen minutes before two
o'clock in the morning, with chance OF
not more than five minutes error either
way, it would be possible to go to bed.
Thomas Crane had the reputation or be-
ing sure; he was certainly slow.
One could scarcely blame Thomas
Crane for his slOwness at this time. The
room in which he and Fenton had spent
the long evening was the ideal of COM
fort. Some rooms are furnished to please
those who NAV happen to see them from
time TO time, and are elegant; some are
furnished because rooms are necessary,
and are commonplace; some are tur-
nished to please the one who spends his
time in them, and are comfortable ana
hOmelike. Harry FentOn's study was al
of the latter kind. Every chair and
table, every paper and book seemed 10
have something OF Fent0n ln9l' 9l dtGai.- ltt,oa
ty, and to his friend could but De attrac-
five. The night outside was equally un-
attractive, The icy wind was plllng the
snow into long, hard drifts i'll the dark
ness. The contrast was not Pheasant
one to one who must soon face the
storm.
On the table nearest the Fireplace
were the books the friends nad Deen
using from time to time in their discus
sion: curiOus works on the strangest
features in mental science; collectlOns
of instances which have never been eX-
pIained and perhaps never will be; DOCKS
on the brain and nerves. These two
old college chums never failed to meet
once a week in the young lawyers study
to spend an evening in their taVoFlte
way.
Standing near the open fire, Thomas
Crane said:
II must maintain that there is not
merely a possible, but a probable, con-
nectiOn between any two persons you
NAV name, Trace back your life, and
somewhere it crosses the life OF the peg
gar you pass in the street. But tOr me,
the man who makes my clothes ana the
woman who cooks my food wOnld have
different lives from what they do. You
grant it? Well, then, trace 1t on, and
what happens? But for them, what! |
tell YOU, FentOn, your life or mine
sways that of hdman beings beyond the
seas"
What grew out of this took about the
hour which FentOn had felt from expe-
riance would be spent standing IN the
cheerful freight.
Tn the hall the conversation had drift
ed to another phase of the fascinating
subiect, and as Crane took down MS
oveTrOat he was saying: "Ot course, |
there is such a thing as indirect, unin- |
tentional responsibility. The man who |
does a good deed may rob some one be-
hind him of deserved praise when he |
allows the deed to be counted to his own |
credit: and the man whose life set in |
motion the train of events which re- |
shifted in the good may never even dream |
of it. And, on the other hand, we meet |
men every day who are really response |
HE for the crimes for which other men |
endure punishment. Not knowingly, |
not purpOsely, not with malice, but, III |
truth, responsible for all that"
From this the discussion Went on % Lor
a half hour or more, and then Crane |
opened the door to go. The bitter cold
rushed in in fierce blast as he said IN
answer to his friends last remark: An
oath should be sacred. | can conceive
of no circumstances which would war
rant it being broken"
"Well," said FentOn, 81 think we nave
pretty completely covered the whole
ground tonight. You have brought up
human beings, and of far-fetched kind |
of responsibility in which l don't be- |
lieve. and l will take pleasure in con- |
fiict with you on these points next week |
And now, do you know it's cOnfOunded |
cold? | am half inclined to drive you |
away, old friend; can you deduce any |
thing mathematical or psychological |
from that?"
'Both," said Crane, "twO straight lines
fntersect in only one point. Five min
utes might make a man too late for the
inevitable. | certainly ought not to be
too early for my fate" And with these
laughing words on his lips he, indeed,
went straight to his fate.
Crossing the little park which seemed
dOubly desOlate from night and storm,
as though to balance its summer beauty,
there was a sudden cry little ahead.
A quarter minute two men seemed en-
gagged in a terrible struggle, but before
he could reach them one had rushed
away among the trees, and the other
had fallen to the earth. Cranes first
impulse was to follow the runaway; his
second, and the one he acted upon, was
to assist the other. Crane had studied
medicine before his fathea had prevailed
upon him to be a banker, so as to per-
petuate the business in which the fami-
ly had grown rich for three generations.
1t scarcely needed more than the glimpse
he could get of the wounded mans face
in the darkness and the sound of his
falling voice to prove to him that all
that the poor fellow had to say must be
said at once. The knife in the other
mans hand had done its work only too
well.
"HOw long will 1 Iive?" said the
stranger, in a wonderfully calm and
even voice. There was perfect sincerity
in the tones he used; he evidently felt
that "Will liye?" would have been
wasted question.
Crane answered with equal frankness:
''NOt five minutesp'
care you rich?" in weaker tone.
Yes
"Charitable?"
Thomas Crane felt doubt, but he said |
Eyes" again.
"Will you give a stranger-a dying !
strangeT-a year of your time?"
"WilI l give -" began Crane.
'Listent' with sudden energy. 81
hadn't an enemy in the world. am
dying by the hand of a murderer. Will
you give one year to find the man who
is responsible for this? And will you
make il cost him his life?"