The Penn's Grove record., 1886-02-06

MacfaTlane attempted no r~eSlSCancei he
knew escape was impossible. To reach
the street he would have 10 traverse a
room full of men, even supposing L
could not have prevented him from
leaving the room.
An hour afterwards he vas given in
to custody. When the trial came on
there was no difficulty in proving his
guilt; it also came out that he had
suuandered the money he had appro-
priated II dissipation, and that he was
even a more worthless character than L
had believed. l felt no conjunction
for the part | had played. | had only
fulfilled my duty. Nor did | anticipate
that his threats were anything more
than the expressions OF the hate WHICH
he naturally felt towards me.
He was condemned to two years i'm.
prisonment with hard labor.
CHAPTER ii.
The two years passed swiftly by. l
had nearly forgotten Macfarlane. The
only result of the affair as regards me
had been that my partners conceived
an exaggerated notion of my ability
and tact, and reposed greater confidence
IN me than before.
The firm of which / was a Junior
partner was an old fashioned one. Our
business was that of manufacturing
goldsmiths, and was a profitable one.
However, trade was by no means so
prosperous as it had been; IN spite OF UNI
remitting efforts the income OF the firm
gradually sank. Our only consolation
was the knowledge that our rivals suf-
fered even more than we did.
Personally | spared no pains. l was
not by nature a business man, prefer
ring the professions to manufacturers,
but circumstances having led me to
embark in business, 1 determined to
make the best of it at all events.
Naturally / was dissatisfied with the
recent course Of things, and cast my
eyes round III every direction for a fresh
field for activity. At the same time 1t
behooves us to be careful; more than
one firm had recently come TO grief,
driven into dangerous s~peculations by
the necessity of doing something.
| was in the refreshment room at
Euston one day, taking 8 hasty lunch
on my return from Birmingham, when
| was conscious of some one looking at
me.
| turned round and faced a man who
seemed familiar to me. A moments
reflection and | recognized hlm-Mae-
farlane.
He hesitated a moment and then
lifted his hat to ne. Almost UNI
consciously l gave him a sign of recog-
milton. He at once came forward.
"How do you do, sir2" he asked, II
was afraid you would not care to recog-
nize me-"
II am scarcely sure l do,n was my
reply. | wanted to let him see that l
was not anxious to renew our acquain-
lance. AT the same time the meeting
had taken me so by surprise that l had
not made up my mind to cut him dead.
you've every excuse for not recog-
nizing me" he said. MY face Is a
little altered, isn't it?"
1t certainly was. He wore a beard
and moustaclle instead of being clean
shaved. His hair was differently ar
ranged, his whole dress and appearance
were quieter and more gentlemanly
than formerly. He had immensely i'm
proved in every respect.
''It is some time since we met" he
continued.
Eyes, l suppose 1t is" Ireplied wish
ing he had avoided the topic, for l felt
very uncomfortable,
''Gt is nearly four years." he said.
-Four years make a good deal of diff
ference to a man, especially when two
of them have been spent in prison"
What could l say? 1t would have
haan ipc1tItiDr aVop nruaI RI sau that
WAS sorry.
"You don't mind talking to a Jail
bird l hope?n he said with a smile.
you need not be afraid of my being
recognized; no one but you has Iecog-
nized me, yet [ don't think you would
have done so if | hadn't fixed my eyes
on you"
81 should have thought that it would
have been you who would have been
the first to object to our meeting" l
said. 1.-THE sight of me can't be very
pleasant 10 you, Pm afraid.
He almost laughed.
you're mistaken, lam glad to say"
he replied. ''My one hope lately has
been to meet you. We can't talk Qui'
city here" he added; there is such a
crew. Could you spare me half an
hour? [ think I can promise you you
won't regret it."
wanted to get back to my work,
but Macfarlane interested me. l had
been severe perhaps with him in old. l
might at all events grant HIM the small
favor of an interview now.
We took a cab to his hotel-a quiet
one in a street off the Strand. He had
a private room, and he ordered up some
coffee. Evidently lie was in different
circumstances than when a junior clerk
and travelor in our firm.
TRY n of these" he said.
He produced some cigars. L took
one; it was in the green condition that
Americans love.
Net dry enough for you" he asked.
sit will suit me admirably re-
piled. Didn't you get these in
American"
Eyes; 1 only crossed a week ago.
I've been there for the past two years
or-ever slnce-you know what"
81 am glad to see that you are not 50
utterly ruined as you anticipated, J" l
said conscious that the remark was IN
bad taste. But | was in a false posi-
ton, and everything l said must be
either stupid or awkward.
"Do you remember, " he asked, ''the
day when you had me up in your roomph
remembered it as we'll as he prob
ably.
"Do you remember what l said when
you wouldn't let me off2n
l Eodded. Was he going to spring
some mine on me? Was all this a prep
aration Cor a deadly Ievengep Impos.
sib,e! He was as harmless looking a
companion as one could wish for.
81 said that I'd be revenged on you
* | had to wait years. Well, 1 have
waited years and here is my revenge.
I'm treating you 70 coffee and cigars,
AID taking away 70 you as if l was the
senior partner aud you a clerk. That's
a bette: revenge than trying 20 put q
bullet into you and then getting hang
ed for t; ISN'T il? Upon my word,
though, Sir, when l made that threat l
meant doing you Il mischief if | ever
cot the Phacra ~