Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1895-12-24

breaks and fits of moody silence. 1t was
not a story very much out of the ordinary.
yet it had affected the hardened man Of
the world far more deeply than he cared to
let his companion see.
Young Weston had through the influence
of his father, a gentleman of good family,
but of limited income, obtained an excellent
position assistant secretary to fashion
able West End club largely frequented by
young men of position who were heavy
gamblers the turf and inveterate card
players. The secretary, retired military
officer was, owing to illness, frequently
absent for long periods and Arthur Wes-
ton had things very much in his own
hands, for many weeks at time He was
a great favorite with the members, the
committee trusted him implicitly, there
was every prospect that in spite of his
youth he would at no very distant date OBJ
tain the position which failing health must
soon compel the present holder to relin-
quish. Unfortunately the young fellow had
teen successful in one or two turf transact
tons which had been recommended him by
a certain racing member-a young noble
nan who owned race horses and gambled
en- the turf heavily. The young man, find
ing he making money easily, thought
he on the high road to fortune and
began to plunge. Then came a series of re-
verses. To meet his liabilities--not to have
done SO would have led to his dismissal.
and his practical ruin-in evil hour, he
took advantage of his chiefs absence, and
borrowed a large sum of money which had
passed through his hands. He had been
rrable to repay it. and he had come down
to Malvern. having obtained a few days
leave, to see a relative of his father, who
was a rich man, and who had always
taken a great interest in him. He had de-
teimined to make clean breast of every
thing, borrow the money and repay it when
he had improved his position sufficiently to
enable him to do So But this gentleman
had been taken i'll abroad and there was
nothing left fer him but to go back to the
club, face the certain discovery and proba-
bly, prosecution. That he could not bring
fimself to do. His people had not the COM
rnand of ready money, his father was dead.
He could not bear to think of his mothers
Srief and shame of the horror of a Grim
i1.al and 50 he determined to carry ont the
intention he had formed when he fancied
that perhaps his Malvern friend might re-
fuse to assist him. He mad brought the re-
vclver with him from London.
Ihat was the ordinary part of the story;
the special feature. which had appealed to
John Oidroyd, this. The young man
had in the course of his narrative explain
cd that his father had been ruined soon af-
ter he came Of age by the dishonesty of a
trusted friend, young man of his own age
who m he had trusted implicitly and who
had induced him to put the whole of his
capital, some 5000, into a business to
wfich he had succeeded, and this friend
hau alter couple of years suddenly disap-
Feared, leaving nothing but bankrupt es-
t&te and several charges of fraud behind
him.
mat interested J0hn OldrOyd immensely,
At 10 O'Clock the next morning, the South
AFRICAN millionaire and the assistant Secre-
tary of the club breakfasted together At
ter breakfast the millionaire went to his
dispatch box, took out his cheque book and
wrote cheque. 1t was for the amount of
Arthur WeSton'S liability
You ii cash that at the bank tomorrow"
he SAID, and pay the notes into the clubs
account at once, and then the balance Will
be correct on the 31st of December and
YOU II let it be lesson to you for the rest
of your life
The young man wrung his benefactor's
hand. How shall l repay your"
III tell you.' said John Odroyd you'll
repay me by giving me your solemn promise
tfat when in months time there arrives
at your mothers house a registered letter
containing bank notes for 100000 with an
trtimation that they the sum of which
your fathers former partner defrauded him,
win interest to date, you will not lead her
to imagine that they may really be from
some one else who has heard the story"
You mean that you will send the-oh, no.
We have no claim. You"
Don't argue about it I'm rich. and I've
no one to leave my money to-not a friend
in the world. And 1 know the man who
re bbed your father. Odford YOU said his
name was. / knew him in South Africa af-
Ter ned made money and was doing well
He was a good fellow to me at the begin
ming, and 1t was his advice that put me on
the right road to getting the property that
made my fortune He died out there Just
90 ioi 'diic vas COllluS u MIN, A)r ned have
PAID up and put things straight himself
I'm doing this for his sake, my lad, and
not for anybody else's. and it's no more
than he deserves that l should do for him.
And when I've done it 1 shall be a happer
man. and l shan't for the rest of nv life
be afraid of spending Christmas day alone,
though l shall always look back upon the
one spent with you as the happiest l have
known for many a long year. So pack I'D
your traps; leave me to settle for you here
Get Off to London by the first train, and
God bless you"
John Oidroyd sent the notes as he had
promised. and Arthur Weston held mis-
peace, and old Mrs Weston shed tears of
gratitude and decided that the ways Of HUI
nan nature were wonderful, and that her
hu stands former partner couldn't have been
a really bad man, after all.
And Arthur Weston thinks he wasn't or
John Oldroyd would never have spoken so
we'll of him. But perhaps John Odroyd's
sympathy was prompted by circumstan noes
that Arthur Weston will never guess, nor,
for the matter of that, will anybody else
guess them. 1t would interfere consi,ierabI v
with the peace of mind OF John Oldroyd the
South African millionaire, if any one but
himself ever did.
CThe End)