The Democratic advocate., 1907-06-14
THE LAST FAILURE.

referred to MIN as 'OlQ Emmett. he
was one of life's derelicts-worn by hopes
deferred, illusions shattered and early am
bitions nipped.
1t was natural enough that three days
after his wife fell ill the head of the firm
should summarily dismiss him with a
months salary, and hint that his work
was getting slovenly.
How he got out of the Office he never
quite knew. He remembered nothing
until he found himself on the front steps,
numbed, with sickening apprehension for
the future.
From his long connection with the firm,
he knew, and was known, at many offices,
He went the round of these and many
other. strange ones. At every one he re-
ceived the same answer, sometimes bluntly,
sometimes with show of consideration
''Times were bad-cutting expenses-not
enough work for their own staff, let alone
extra hands
With shiver he turned to face the five
mile trudge home He shivered again as
he thought of 1.-THE stuffy house in the
little street; the slatternly girl who slept
out; the peevish woman who lay ilupstairs,
crying because they could not do as their
neighbors did constantly nagging, con-
stantly blaming.
He still loved her with dog like fidelity
vet he shrank from the shrill voice and the
constant upbraiding She accused him Of
want of proper pride, Of helplessness.
Why didn't he get his uncle to do some
thing for them-he had money. When
he demonstrated that he had only seen his
uncle twice in his life-and that years ago
she relapsed into sullen tears.
He was faint with hunger, but there
was something to do first, before touching
the unappetizing meal laid for him. He
went to a drawer in the writing table and
drew out long envelope in which was
life insurance policy for two hundred
pounds. He had taken it out at the time
of his marriage, and had contrived to keep
the premiums paid up.
Having read it again he gave sigh of
relief; he had been right all along, but he
wished to make certain. He replaced the
envelope and counted out the money in his
pocket-there were twelve sovereigns.
One he kept for purposes of his own; the
others he took up stairs to the ailing wife,
with forced smile and brazen lie of
a rise in salary and an important post in
the office.
"And-and so you see, DEAR he con-
cluded with little choke in his voice, 1--WE
shall be able to do as the doctor said, after
all. You shall 90 down to-to Margate;
they say the air is very good there and you
can get strong and we'll again.
Mrs. Emmett face frightened, and she
slipped an arm round his neck.
"Oh, James, how lovely You don't
know how terrible it has been lying here.
L We been horrid at times, James, but that's
all over now, ism t it? Kiss me, and then
90 and have your supper. Why, you're
crying.
"I-I- the sudden change has upset
me, dear There, I'm all right now, and
I'll see you off at the station tomorrow.
They won't care-I mean, they'll excuse
me being late at the office.
Emmett stood on the platform and watch
ed the train glide out of the station. He
had bought his wife a magazine and a
basket of fruit, and saw her comfortably
installed He watched her 60 with dim
eyes and an aching lump in his throat--she
had called him by pet name long fallen
into disuse-as the train moved off.
Then he turned resolutely away. He
was feeling cold and nervous and he feared
at the last moment his courage might fail
him. He entered the station bar and
drank a brandy and soda. Then he
stopped at pawnbroker shop and got a
cheap German revolver.
Clutching his parcel, he made his way
home to the little house, let himself in,
and locked the door. The girl had gone
on holiday and the place was deserted
Emmett went to the drawer and pulled
out his insurance policy. On the envelope
he wrote, in his neat, clerkly hand, "For
my wife-private,' and propped it up
against a candlestick on the mantelp piece.
Then he went slowly up the narrow stair
way to her bedroom.
The blinds were drawn, but there was
ample light for his purpose. The stale,
verdigris- covered cartridges jammed in the
chambers; his hands were shaking, and he
was naturally clumsy and unaccustomed.
At length, however, he managed to fill
four chambers and snap the breach to. 1t
was a wretchedly made single action thing,
and he shuddered as the lock action gave
a double click
"Lord have mercy-have mercy p he
muttered, dry-lipped, and pulled the trig-
ger.
1t fell with sharp snap. Dazed and
confused, but with courage few would
have suspected, he inspected the chambers.
Only four were loaded, and in his fumbling
the hammer had fallen on one Of the empty
ones.
He turned the cylinder carefully. A
second mistake, he knew, would break his
nerve.
At moments of extreme tension, the
most trivial detail frequently assumes an
undeserved importance. Emmett was by
nature and training an orderly man. As
he snapped the breech to for the second
time-still kneeling-he noticed an envel-
ope tucked away under the looking-glass
stand.
He glanced at it. On it was the stamp
of firm of solicitors. The name was un-
known to him-but solicitors letters had
been painfully frequent of late. A freak
of curiosity tempted him to know the
worst. He opened it and the lines swan
before his eyes.
"Dear Sir" he read, "We beg to in
form you of the death of your uncle, our
esteemed client, which took place on the
18th ult. We should have acquainted
you with the fact before but it has taken
us considerable time to discover your ad-
dress. The late Mr.. John Emmett's will