Tombstone epitaph., 1917-06-24

! to my father. You know where he kept it."
 "Yes, sir, separate from the other papers concerning the International, iI the third compartment" He turned the big safe door slowly. The thirO compartment was empty. Its gone, he said.
 Meade went to the safe. a small one and examined 1t carefully and fruitless ly. His letter was not there with the other papers. where 1t should hay. been If 1t were in existence. It was not anywhere.
 Father told me he was going to de s'roy 1t, but rather thought he was keeping 1t to have some fun with me when the bridge was completed" he said at last.
 "Yes, sir, that was his intention. IT. fact, I know he did not destroy It al first. He told me to file it with tn. plans. He must have destroyed ii later. I haven't looked in this com, partment for weeks"
 I'll never forget the lie you told to back me up, Shurtliff. I can see you loved him as much as l."
 "No one will ever know the truth from me, sir. You saved your fathers name and fame"
 q think we had better search the office now. I wouldn't have that paper come to life for the world" said Meade
 Shurtliff was the most orderly oi men. The care of the old engineers papers and other arrangements had de vOlved upon him. The search was soon completed.
 | q guess he must have destroyed it." said the young man, but to be sure will examine his private papers at home. Good night. You will be going yourself?"
 | "In few minutes, sir"
 Come to me In the morning after the autopsy and we will arrange for the funeral" said the younger man as he left the office.
 Shurtliff waited until his footsteps died away in the halL He waited un- til he heard the clang of the elevator I got up and In his catlike way opened the door of the office and peered down the hall. It was empty. He stood in the door waiting. while the night ele- va:or made several trips up and down without pausing at that floor. He sat 1 down at the dead mans desk. From his pocket he drew forth a packet of pa. pers.
  There were no legal proceedings, all though there were many inQuests at | the bridge. The cause of the failure was clear. It was recognized by every one, whose opinion was worth consid- ering, that the disaster had resulted from a mistake which any engineer | could have made. As a matter of fact there was no experience to guide the designers. There never had been such a bridge before. Certain elements of empiricism had to enter into their cal culations. They had made the plan after their best judgment and 1t had failed. They could be blamed, even vilifed as they were in the press, but that was the extent of their punish ment.
 The bitter weight of censure fell en- tirely upon Bertram Meade. His ruin as an engineer was immediate and ab- solute. He was the scapegoat No one had any good to say of him except Rod ney. who fought valiantly for his friend and classmate, at least striving to mitigate the censure by pointing out the quick and ready acknowledgment of the error which might have been ascribed to the dead man without fear of contradiction.
 An effort was made by competitors and stock spectators to ruin the Mart let Bridge company. By throwing into the gap their private fortunes to the last dollar and by herculean work on the part of their friends, the directors saved the Martlet company, although its losses were tremendous and almost insupportable. not only in money, but in prestige and reputation. Colonel Illingworth came out of the struggle older and grayer than ever. The terrific combat had left him almost broken for a time, and hls daughter saw that 1t was not possible even to mention Bert ram Meade to him, theL.
 The funeral of the great engineer had been strictly private. Only his confreres, men who stood high in scientific circles, certain people for whom he had made great and suc.ess- full designs. few others whose ties were personal. had been invited tc the house for the services. The Internent was in the little Connecticut towo of Milford, in which the older Meade had been born, and from which he had zone forth as a boy to conquer the worli.