Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1922-01-10
A posthunnous
L.audation
By CLAIRE SMITH
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Copyright. 1921. Western Newspaper Union.
Charles Coggswell. president of half
dozen corporations and man to be
reckoned with in Wall street, came
out Of his club at half past two.
"Heigho ." he sighed. "When man
gets to be forty-five his troubles null
tiply." And he fell to thinking how
hardly fate used him.
AS he stepped into the street news
boy ran into him, yelling at the top OF
his voice. He picked himself up and
thrust paper under Mr. CoggSwelPs
nose.
Suicide Of q millionaire!" he yelled ;
and there, sure enough, was the
announcement, in big, black lettering.
Mr.. CoggSwell bought copy, and the
next minute was staggering back
| against the wall Of the club. The
suicide was that of himself.
When he had recovered little he
read as follows:
"Alr. Charles COggswell, president OF
the United Realty and Union corpora
tion, and a weH-known figure on the
street. shot himself in the temple
at half-past one o'clock this afternoon,
in a lodging house on the Bowery. Al
! though he had dressed himself in shah
by clothes and destroyed all evidences
of his identity, Mr Coggswell's fea-
lures were, too we'll known for his
death to remain long unknown.
Coggswell knew the mana double
of his, strikingly alike even to the gait
and gesture.
Suppose were Dead" he thought.
"Would the world be better of or
worse"
If he were dead, wiped out, no longer
o factor in the affairs of men, what
would 1t mean to the world that he
had known? What did his life mean?
His death meant release and money
TO his wife; to his musician son it
meant the Inheritance of which he
was to have been deprived. His part-
ner, Prentice, and he had always been
at loggerheads, and nine times out Of
ten Prentice had been right in his
views. COggswell tried to think Of one
person whom his life benefited, but
| could not do so.
Then why should he not be dead?
He could lay hands upon ten thousand
dollars.
1t was growing dark, when starting
up from reverie, he discovered that
he was, standing in front of his house
on Madison avenue. He crept up to
his den at the top Of the house. AS
he, reached the last story he. saw a
figure coming toward him, followed
by another, and shrank back into
closet just as they came round the bend
In the passage. They were two .sery-
ing maids, and, as they paused, he
heard one. Of them say:
"Why are you taking on so, Maryf
He wasn't no good, for all I've heard
tell of him. Didn't he drive that good
wife of his cut of his house and spoil
her life for herr"
II can't help It," shifted the other.
"He mayn't have been good man, but
he saved my brothers life"
When they had disappeared he went
down the steps with frmer tread.
| Nevertheless, outside the drawing room
door he paused and listened. Prentice,
his partner, was speaking.
81 tell you, Mrs. Coggswell," he was
saying, Charles was good man, and
l know that a warm heart beat under
the affectntion of selfishness. I could
tell you stories"
"oh, know he was" his wife
sobbed. at Is who have been at fault.
Oh, Charles, il you could only know,
If you could only come back to mel"
Another voice took up the parable.
Coggswell started and clenched his
| fists in bitter remorse. The voice was
that Of his son.
81 know father meant to do well by
me-" he said. YOU know, mother, he
believed that man should shift for
/ himself, to develop independence OF
character. That's why he left me to
worry along as best 1 could. God
bless him! He was one Of the finest
men that ever lived"
!The voices died away, and it seemed
| TO Coggswell as though he had already
come to the new birth that he desired.
Why should he go away and sink his
identity when his life lay here? No,
the real life was in his accustomed
pla .e, with life's struggle still before
him, enmitles to overcome, faults to be-
atoned for, all the battle to be fought
out over again in the accustomed bat
tlefeld. He hesitated moment; then
softly opened the door.