The Gloved Hand | Page 9

his face that touched me, and I glanced at Mr.
Royce. I saw that his gruffness was merely a mantle to cloak his real
feelings; and the result was that Freddie Swain was set to work as a
copying-clerk at a salary of fifteen dollars a week. He applied himself
to his work with an energy that surprised me, and I learned that he was
taking the night-course at the University, as he had planned. Finally,
one night, I met him as I was turning in to my rooms at the Marathon,

and found that he had rented a cubby-hole on the top floor of the
building. After that, I saw him occasionally, and when six months had
passed, was forced to acknowledge that he was thoroughly in earnest. I
happened to remark to Mr. Royce one day that Swain seemed to be
making good.
"Yes," my partner agreed; "I didn't think he had it in him. He had a
rude awakening from his dream of affluence, and it seems to have done
him good."
But, somehow, I had fancied that it was from more than a dream of
affluence he had been awakened; and now, as I sat staring at this letter,
I began to understand dimly what the other dream had been.
The first thing was to get the letter into his hands, for I was certain that
it was a cry for help. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was nearly
half past twelve. Swain, I knew, would be at lunch, and was not due at
the office until one o'clock. Slipping the letter into my pocket, I turned
back to the house, and found Mrs. Hargis standing on the front porch.
"I declare, I thought you was lost, Mr. Lester," she said. "I was just
going to send William to look for you. Ain't you 'most starved?"
"Scarcely starved, Mrs. Hargis," I said, "but with a very creditable
appetite, when you consider that I ate breakfast only two hours ago."
"Well, come right in," she said. "Your lunch is ready."
"I suppose there's a telephone somewhere about?" I asked, as I
followed her through the hall.
"Yes, sir, in here," and she opened the door into a little room fitted up
as a study. "It's here Mr. Godfrey works sometimes."
"Thank you," I said, "I've got to call up the office. I won't be but a
minute."
I found Godfrey's number stamped on the cover of the telephone book,

and then called the office. As I had guessed, Swain was not yet back
from lunch, and I left word for him to call me as soon as he came in.
Then I made my way to the dining-room, where Mrs. Hargis was
awaiting me.
"How does one get out here from New York, Mrs. Hargis?" I asked, as
I sat down. "That is, if one doesn't happen to own a motor car?"
"Why, very easily, sir. Take the Third Avenue elevated to the end of
the line, and then the trolley. It runs along Dryden Road, just two
blocks over."
"Where does one get off?"
"At Prospect Street, sir."
"And what is this place called?"
"This is the old Bennett place, sir."
"Thank you. And let me tell you, Mrs. Hargis," I added, "that I have
never tasted a better salad."
Her kindly old face flushed with pleasure.
"It's nice of you to say that, sir," she said. "We have our own garden,
and William takes a great pride in it."
"I must go and see it," I said. "I've always fancied I'd like to potter
around in a garden. I must see if Mr. Godfrey won't let me in on this."
"He spends an hour in it every morning. Sometimes he can hardly tear
himself away. I certainly do like Mr. Godfrey."
"So do I," I agreed heartily. "He's a splendid fellow--one of the nicest,
squarest men I ever met--and a friend worth having."
"He's all of that, sir," she agreed, and stood for a moment, clasping and
unclasping her hands nervously, as though there was something else

she wished to say. But she evidently thought better of it. "There's the
bell, sir," she added. "Please ring if there's anything else you want," and
she left me to myself.
I had pushed back my chair and was filling my pipe when the telephone
rang. It was Swain.
"Swain," I said, "this is Mr. Lester. I'm at a place up here in the Bronx,
and I want you to come up right away."
"Very good, sir," said Swain. "How do I get there?"
"Take the Third Avenue elevated to the end of the line, and then the
trolley which runs along Dryden Road. Get off at Prospect Street, walk
two blocks west and ask for the