Fulton County tribune. (Wauseon, Ohio) 1883-1925, 1914-10-30

This isn't business. Enoch'S face
grew peremptory. I'm strong enough
for this. I'm not a praying man, An
drew, but l lay in the dark last night
thanking God that he had let me live
long enough to-make restitution. /
can't make full restitution. 1t seems
to me as if l had been living on the
brink of hell for half a lifetime. Let
me come back" he pleaded, "back-so
l can look decent people in the face
again"
Merry did not speak. He sat watch
ing Enoch's wasted fingers search
through a mass of papers in the little
drawer. He lifted out a handbook and
a yellow, envelope, then he set the
drawer aside and laid the leather
covered booklet upon Merry's knee. \
That is yours" he explained. You
will find there every cent of royalties
from The House. 1t was banked apart
from my private account. 1t grew
amazingly during the spring. You are
a wealthy man"
Andrew opened it and glanced
through the pages. He looked bewil-
dered for a moment.
"Jehu! What can | do with SO
much money? 1 swear, Enoch, l don't
care a p%icayune for being a wealthy
man except"
Wentworth did not answer. He was
staring at a slip of paper he had drawn
from the yellow envelope. You re-
member this. Andrew" he asked
abruptly.
Merry nodded. He caught a glimpse
of Wentworth's name and his own
upon the 1imsy thing they had called
the bond. Enoch leaned back against
the pillow and began to destroy the
paper with slow elaboration, tearing
it across and across until it was re
duced to a heap Of fakes which flut-
tered down into the hollow Of his
gaunt palm. He shook them into the
envelope and handed it to Merry, who
took it without a word and slipped
it between the leaves of the bank
book.
If you can trust me, Boy, until the
right time comes and / reach the right
place, | will make full restitution be-
fore the world"
Don't, old man, let US bury this
now and forever. Good God isn't it
restitution enough to have saved my
life"
No." Enoch spoke with swift pas
sion. mo, it isn't restitution. Don't
stand in my way. You have to humor
sick men, you know. Besides, l want
to lay my soul bare to you now. An
drew. Had l been a Catholic should
have done it to a priest long ago. l
suppose"
Go, ahead, Enoch. I'll listen" he
said gently.
Wentworth turned in bed and
clasped his hands around one bent
knee. Years ago." he, began brus-
quely, 81 was wandering about in the
Tennessee mountains on an assign
ment when I fell in with a chap who
taught psychology in Yale. He was
nothing wonderful, but his science was
fascinating. Time and again, since
those days, / have planned, if i could
find the leisure, to go into psychology
and study the thing out. Still, any
man who knocks about the world as
l have done learns to puzzle things
out for himself. There must be some.
thing alluring, though, to be able to
reduce the promptings of ones own
soul to a science and then to work out
a problem in yourself. Don't you
| think so?"
Il should imagine so. Still, it's an
unopened book to me-" Merry admit
/ ted.
I'VE used to sit and talk every night
around the campfire. | remember once
this young MacGregor explained to
me why a man we had both known
committed murder. He killed his
wife first, then, horror-stricken. shot
| himself. It's a common enough story,
you read it in the papers every day
of the week, but it came close to us
because we had both known the fellow
well. He was a decent, quiet, cheerful
citizen, with a genial, kindly way
about him. His taking of seemed
mystery. None of us had even seen
him angry. Suddenly he turned into
a flaming fend, a murderer, and a sui
eide. Nothing but insanity or the
Yale mans theory explained it."
What was his theory?"
Wentworth paused for a minute with
a haunted look in his eyes. He claims
that the morals of every human being
| are nodded during the first twenty
years of his life. Into a fairly decen:
career there comes occasionally-foi
the life of me l. can't remember his
technical name for it, should call il
a moral lesion. Some sin which a mar
has committed, and you might say
lived down, before he was twenty
crops out again years after and II
conuuers him. Each time he may
repent and turn over q new leaf. The
world looks on him not as an Admir-
able Crichton perhaps. but as a toler
ably good fellow. Then suddenly
without the ghost of a warning. ever
after he ~imagines he has o%utgrown the
tendency to that particular sin. thers
comes a temptation, and he goes under
as if his backbone was gristle. He fall.
as quick as tnaS!
Wentworth paused for a momen
and snapped his fingers. Curious
isn't it," he added
TT certainly is curious" agreed
Merry.
When the career of this murders
was brought to the light of day. the!
found that once when he was a school
boy. and again, when a friend stole hi
sweetheart, he might have committet
murder if a Weapon had been at hand
The third time a gun lay close to hi
elbow"
Andrew Merry did not speak, Blu
sat watching Enoch with b~ewildermen
in his eyes.
At am going to tell you about tw'
LESSONS which occurred in my own life
There was a third-you know abou
that n yourself"
CTO BE CONTINUED)