Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-07-19
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Thu Man


The Man.
Richard Gaunt sat alone in the library
of Gaunt Royal. the house which his an
cestors had built on the seacoast Of
Cardiganshire when one of them married
the heiress of the Morgans Of Llynglas.
For a library the room was singularly
destitute of books. Bare oak shelves
lined the walls, for the whole place had
been stripped of its literary treasures
four years after Gaunt attained his ma
jority. The collection. accumulated by his
grandfather. who. was a bibliophile, had
fetched twenty thousand pounds.
Two months had elapsed since the death
Of Lord Carfax. George Crawshay had
been tried for manslaughter. and had re-
ceived the sentence of SIX months i'm
prisonment without hard labor. The Judge
had made some very unpleasant remarks
about the young men. whose birth and
education should have saved them from
such scene.
eff this. had happened in some East End
Sum- he had remarked 81 should not
have made comment on the case AS 1t
Is 1 can only say that all the men con-
cerned seemed to have forgotten that
they were gentlemen There is no o1,es-
tion Of malice aforethought. The death
OF Lord Carfax is the result Of drunken
brawl. Yet the man who killed him must
not go unpublished"
Gaunt had been astonished and even an
noyed at the leniency of the sentence
Six months Imprisonment would have
been no great matter after all. 1t would
have been better than a lifetime spent in
avenging the wrongs of another man. He
was a little soothed by the reflection that
Crawshay's illness had affected the SEN
tence. and that a healthy man would not
nave been let off so lightly. But. in spite
or this. he had come to the conclusion
that he had made a mistake.
More than once he had been tempted to
come forward and tell the truth. The
thought of Crawshay dying in prison was
horrible. But he knew that Crawshay
himself would keep him to his word and
would face the end with stole indiffer-
ence.
And now. this morning. there had come
the news of Crawshays DEATH and a let
ter from the executor Of Crawshay's will
Gaunt held the letter in his hand. and
read the cold, businesslike words which
conveyed so much more to the reader
than the writer of them
Dear Sir: | regret to inform you that
last Wednesday morning Mr.. George
Crawshay was taken suddenly i'll and
died few hours afterward He has be-
queathed you the sum of thirty thousand
pounds In his will. and has left directions
that a box containing private papers is TO
be sent to you at once. 1t is already on
its way. together with a letter which
Mr.. Crawshay wrote before his death.
and which he wished delivered to YOU
with the box.
II am, your obedient servant
JOHN SARL"
Gaunt's fingers trembled as he held the
sheet Of black-edged paper. The search
had begun. 1t was too late TO turn back
now. The sacrifice had been made. and
the debt would have to be settled
To do Gaunt justice his first thoughts
were for the man who had died. George
Crawshay had made a great sacrifice; he
had made II to gain his own ends it was
true. but the man whose place he had
taken. and whose punishment he had en-
dured. was not callous enough to look
upon the bargain as a mere affair of
business. Crawshay's death had made it
something more than that.
Crawshay had died under circumstances
which II was impossible to contemplate
without pity and horror. OF his own
free will he had spent the last few weeks
or his life In a prison. Knowing that he
had but short time to live he had vol
unfairly cut himself off from all that
might have softened the harshness of
death. He might have spent his last
days on earth IN the peace and comfort
OF his own rooms: he might have spent
them in the whirlinG vortex of plea sure.
he might have fed south to the clear air
and sunshine of warmer climate. and
faced death amid the silent grandeur Of
mountain and sea; all this had been in
his power.
Sir Richard Gaunt. who was at heart a
selfish voluptuary, could not unders. and
the motives which had prompted Craw-
shay to sacrifice the last few days of his
life. and his reputation for all time. to
purchase goods which might never be
delivered. 1t was probable tina; Gaunt
honored Crawshay's sister More than
once he had thought how easy II would
be to take the thirty thousand pounds
and dismiss the whole matter from his
mind He had sworn terrible oath:
but then after all, words are only words
and they break no bones Honor relip-
lon. morality were no moro to him than
empty phrases. Crawshay would die and
there would ba an end OF the matter
But the actual death of Crawshay had
presented everything In a new light. The
dead man. cool and cynical to the last.
had relied largely on stage effect and he
had not failed to produce the impression
he had worked for. He knew we'll enough
that Gaunt was an INSCRIPTIONS black
guard. but he had not forgotten a trivial
incident which had occurred in the early
stages of their acquaintance
They had both gone to see the first per-
Torrance of Ibsens 'Wild Duck" in
England. Gaunt had laughed heartily all
through the piece treating il more or
less as satire on class of men he cor
daily detested. But in the last act, when
'Ho niue Siri 1euVlg Kills herself be-
cause she has lost her fathers love. lie
grew very silent. and. as the lights were
turned up after the fall Of tho curtain.
Crawshay noticed that there were tears
IN his eyes.
That sort of thing makes a fool of
me. Gaunt had said. in answer to a few
words of ridicule.
why my dear chap" Crawshay had
exclaimed. ''Tli wager you're responsible
for greater tragedies. and that you've
never shed tear for the sufferers"
Its different on the stage" Gaunt had