, 1906-01-17

him up, u the strain that pulled
down on him was so relentless that
the struggle was losing its equality.
He had not expected such a home COM
ing.
Compared with his former self Mon
ty was now almost a physical wreck,
haggard, thin and defiant, a shadow
of the once debonair young New York
er, an object of pity and scorn. Asham-
ed and despairlng, he had almost lack
ed the courage to face Mrs. Gray. The
consolation he once gained through her
he now denied himself, and his suffer-
ing, peculiar as it was, was very real.
In absolute recklessness he gave din
ner after dinner, party after party, all
on a most lavish scale, many of his
guests laughing at him openly while
they enjoyed his hospitality. The real
friends demonstrated, pleaded, did
everything within their power to check
his awful rush to poverty, but without
success. He was not to be stopped.
At last the furniture began to go, then
the plate, then all the priceless bric-
a-brac. Piece by piece 1t disappeared
until the apartments were empty and
he had squandered almost all of the
$40,350 arising from the sales. The
servants were paid off, the apartments
relinquished, and he was beginning to
know what it meant to be ION his
uppers." AT the banks he ascertained
that the interest on his moneys
amounted to 1 9,140.S6. A week be-
fore the 23d of September the whole
million was gone, including the
amounts won in Lumber and Fuel and
other luckless enterprises. He still
had about $1,000 of his interest
money in the banks, but he had a bill
lion pangs in his heart-the interest on
his improvidence.
He found some delight in the discOv-
cry that the servants had robbed him
of not less than $500 worth of his
belongings. including the Christmas
presents that he in honor could not
have sold. His only encouragement
came from Grant & Ripley, the law
yers. They inspired confidence in his
tagging 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 done to obliterate e,
win Peter Brewster's legacy.
Dan DeMille and his wife implored
Monty to come with them to the noun
tains before his substance was gone
completely. The former offered iii
money, employment, rest and security
if he would abandon the course he was
pursuing. Up in Fortieth street Peggy
Gray was grieving her heart out, and
he knew it. Two or three of those
whom he had considered friends re-
fused to recognize him in the street in
this last trying week, and it did not
even interest him to learn that Miss
Barbara Drew was to become a Ouch
ess before the winter was gone. Yet
he found some satisfaction in the re-
port that one Hampton of Chicago had
long since been dropped out of the race.
One day he implored the faithful
Bragdon to steal the Boston terriers.
He could not and would not sell them,
dllu ne " 6lNC
Bragdon dejectedly appropriated the
dogs, and Brewster announced that
some day he would offer a reward for
their return and mo questions asked"
He took a suit of rooms in a small
hotel and was feverishly planning the
overthrow of the last torturing thou
sands. Bragdon lived with him, and
the Little Sons of the Rich stood 10y
ally ready to help him when he ut
tered the first cry of want. But even
this establishment had to be abandon
ed at last. The old rooms in Fortieth
street were still open to him, and,
though he quailed at the thought Of
making them ii refuge, he faced the
ordeal In the spirit of a martyr.
CHAPTER XXX.