The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1902-10-08
BLOOMFIELD

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your sons business In the crypt would
be to conceal that / was concerned in
some way In the stealing Of those Sc
quins. And besides. I do not like
your manner towards me. All my
successes have been due to a good
memory and the power to read the
thoughts and moods Of men, and the in
stincts which have earned me all I
have would scarcely fail me in dealing
with o man Of your mental calibre.
No; you must take my hand and as
sure me of your belief that / have
never done you or your son the slight
est wrong. and In particular that you
are satisfied I know nothing about the
treasure you have failed to find further
than what you and your son have told
me. Do that, and am still your
friend and brother. and win aid you
with all the means In my power to
solve this mystery. Decline my terms.
and I will do my best to forget your
existence"
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t:nctness did uncle Sam thus challenge
his brother. He had drawn nimself up
to his full height, and his head was set
back little further than was custom
ary with him, yet one might reason
ably have supposed as he stood wait
ing for q reply that he was engaged
IL nothing of particular import In
deed, the expression Of his face was
not unlike that which he bore when
uttering one of his cynical dogmas
of which he had such plentiful store.
and he actually smiled as he listened
to my fathers reply-words which
snapped my most cherished hope Ike
thread and plunged me to the lowest
depth Of despair I had as yet sunk to.
Indeed will do no such thing. Un-
asked and from my heart assure you
that the good will have ever borne
towards you survives this affair, SER
ious as it is; but cannot and will not
comply with the terms you dictate.
come what may. Surely you might
have known that anything here was
yours for the asking-that would
have given you anything I had. SO long
as I retained q small competency Tor
my son hereafter"
Uncle Sam remained motionless and
silent for full minute or more after
my father had finished speaking; then,
drawing o deep breath. and uttering
a hardly audible sigh. he rested his
hands on a table, leaned forward. and
fixing bis gaze upon his brother. ad-
dressed him with intense earnestness.
MY curse upon you for an unthink'
ing and cowardly wretch! This Is the
second great injustice / have suffered
at your hands. May that moment be
my last when l put myself in q po-
sition for you to mete out such treat
ment for q third time! Twenty years
ago, by grace Of miscaiculating. self
seeking hind, you married the girl
whose love l had won-who had SOL
EMMY pledged herself to me. Yes,
YOU married her knowing that I was
her choice, and that her father COM
PEELED her to become your wife on nc
count Of your broad acres. ! COM
planned not then to you. but went forth
into the world trusting not vainly to
Nemesis to avenge the wrong had
sustained. The sweetheart Of my boy
hood was not your wife for long; and
as for your Suffolk acres. what Of them
now? They will scarce support the
slave who plows them. Yes, Nemesis
avenged your first injustice to me, and
she will avenge your second. l had
outlived almost the memory Of that
great wrong. and returned to you after
twenty years, rich and influential. pre-
pared to benefit you and your son in
any way l could. and now. forsooth'
in u half-hearted. cowardly manner,
and without any sort Of evidence. you
accuse me Of having robbed you Of
quarter Of a million Of sequins! BY the
powers that be, l swear l never saw
sequin in my life. that am not even
sure am correct in thinking 1t is
gold coin worth nine shillings and
fourpence of British money; but my
supposition being correct can you
think would make myself a thief Tor
five hundred and sixty thousand dol
iars?-I who on many occasions have
profited more In one deal. and made
eight times rs much out Of the Wabash
pool alone. No. am not thief; or II
was, l should not come to Sunolk
to practice my profession. 1t is pos
sible you may live to be convinced OF
the cruel blunder you have made; but
care not how that may be. for you
are already dead to me. Goodbye,
Ernest, my boy. I am sorry for you.
1t Ii a hard fate to be the son OF such
a man, but you are not without hope.
The son Of q wise man Is generally
u fool, 80 by natural balance you
should be wise. for you are certainly
the son Of fool"
He turned to 60, but I clutched his
arm and prevented him. crying out
despairingly-
20 father, father. what have you
done? Unsay your words. and believe
/ with me that uncle Sam has done US
much kindness and no wrong"
Ny passionate plea received no an
swer. Uncle Sam gently disengaged
himself from my grasp and moved to-
| wards the door. IF at any time you
should need friend" he said, address
Ing me, Il hope you will think Of your
uncle. Stay; had almost forgotten
| ,.~ ..,, .h;, and TAXING N lattor