Friday, the Thirteenth | Page 8

honour, and the code: Do unto your
neighbour as you would have your neighbour do unto you. Don't forget
that millions is the crest of the groundlings.' And, Jim, I thought my
friends looked at me with reproachful eyes, as they said, 'You are well
on the road, Bob Brownley, and in time your heart and soul will bear
the hall-mark of the snaky S on the two upright bars, and you will be
but a frenzied fellow in the Dirty Dollar army.' Jim, Jim Randolph, as I
listened to that agonising tale of the changing of that girl's heaven to
hell, I did not see that halo you and I have thought surrounded the sign
of Randolph & Randolph. I did not see it, Jim, but I did see myself, and
I didn't feel proud of the picture. My God, Jim, is it possible you and I
have joined the nobility of Dirty Dollars? Is it possible we are leaving
trails along our life's path like that Reinhart left through the home of
these Virginians, such trails as this girl has shown me?"
Bob had worked himself into a state of frenzy. I had never seen him so
excited as when he stood in front of me and almost shouted this fierce
self-denunciation.
"For heaven's sake, Bob, pull yourself together," I urged. "The captain
on the bridge there is staring at you wild-eyed, and Katherine will be up
here to see what has happened. Now, be a good fellow, and let us talk
this thing over in a sensible way. At the gait you are going we can do
nothing to help out your friends. Besides, what is there for you and me
to take ourselves to task for? We are no wreckers and none of our
dollars is stained with Frenzied Finance. My father, as you know,
despised Reinhart and his sort as much as we do. Be yourself. What
does this girl want you to do? If it is anything in reason, call it done, for
you know there is nothing I won't do for you at the asking."
Bob's hysteria oozed. He dropped on the rail-seat at my side.
"I know it, Jim, I know it, and you must forgive me. The fact, is,
Beulah Sands's story has aroused a lot of thoughts I have been
a-sticking down cellar late years, for, to tell the truth, I have some nasty
twinges of conscience every now and then when I get to thinking of
this dollar game of ours."

I saw that the impulsive blood was fast cooling, and that it would only
be a question of minutes until Bob would be his clearheaded self.
"Now, what is it she wants you to do?" I persisted. "Is it a case of
money, of our trying to tide her father over?"
"Nothing of that kind, Jim. You don't know the proud Virginia blood.
Neither that girl nor her father would accept money help from any one.
They would go to smash and the grave first."
He paused and then continued impressively:
"This is how she puts it. She and her father have raked together her
different legacies and turned them into cash, a matter of sixty thousand
dollars, and she got him to consent to let her come up here to see if
during the next six months she might not, in a few desperate plunges in
the market, run it up to enough to at least regain the trust funds. Yes, I
know it is a wild idea. I told her so at the beginning, but there was no
need; she knew it, for she is not only bright, but she has the best idea of
business I ever knew a woman to have. But it is their only chance, Jim,
and while I listened to her argument I came around to her way of
thinking."
"But how did she happen to come to you with this extraordinary
scheme?" I interrupted.
"It's this way--her father, who knew Randolph & Randolph through
your father's handling of the Seaboard's affairs, learned of my
connection with the house, and gave her a letter, asking me to do what I
could to help his daughter carry out her plans. She wants to get a
position with us, if possible, in some sort of capacity, secretary,
confidential clerk, or, as she puts it, any sort of place that will justify
her being in the office. She tells me she is good at shorthand, on the
machine, or at correspondence, also that she has been a contributor to
the magazines. If this can be arranged, she says she will on her own
responsibility select the time and the stock, and hurl the last of the
Sands fortune at the market, and, Jim, she is