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Updated: July 10, 2025
Surtaine designed to reveal as little as possible to his colleagues, he naturally began his speech with the statement that he would be perfectly frank with them. "There's more sickness than there ought to be in the Rookeries district," he proceeded. "It isn't dangerous, but it may prove obstinate. Some sort of malarious affection, apparently.
So they gazed darkly at each other across the chasm, each seeing his opponent in the blackest colors. "You hold me to that?" demanded Hal, half choked. "I have to, Boy-ee." To Dr. Surtaine the issue which he had raised was but the distasteful means to a necessary end. To Hal it meant the final capitulation to the forces against which he had been fighting since his first enlightenment.
I'll make my own confession in writing. I'll write it in my own blood if need be." "Steady, Veltman. Keep cool." "You think I'm crazy? Perhaps I am. There's a fire at my brain since she died. I loved her, Mr. Surtaine." "But you sacrificed her, Veltman," returned Hal in a gentler tone, for the man's face was livid with agony. "Don't I know it! My God, don't I know it!
"The wife of the son of a quack? You do yourself too much honor, Hal Surtaine." "I fear that I did you too much honor," he replied quietly. Suffocation pressed upon her throat as she saw him go to the door. For a moment the wild desire to hold him, to justify herself, to explain, even to ask forgiveness, seized her. Bitterly she fought it down, and so stood, with wide eyes and smiling lips.
Guiding himself by the light of matches, Hal hurried across to his den. He heard Esmé's voice before he could make her out, standing near the door. "Is any one hurt?" Hal breathed a great sigh. "You're all right, then! We don't know how bad it is." "An explosion?" "Veltman threw a bomb. He's killed." "Boy-ee!" called Dr. Surtaine. "Here, Dad. You're safe?" "Yes." "Thank God!
If she died without medical attendance, the coroner would have to give a permit for removal. Died shortly after Dr. Surtaine's arrival in spite of his efforts to revive her; that's it!" "Just about how it happened," said Dr. Surtaine gratefully. "For publication. Now give me the real facts under that overcoat of yours." Dr.
Dr. Surtaine read slowly and carefully. "Do you know what you're doing?" he said, replacing the strip of paper. "I think so." "That editorial will line up every important business man in Worthington against you." "I don't see why it should." "Because they'll see that none of 'em are safe if a newspaper can do that sort of thing. It's never been done here.
"There are other banks than the Midland that'll be glad of our business," replied Hal. "Probably not." "No? Then they're curious institutions." "There isn't one of 'em in which Elias M. Pierce isn't a controlling factor. Ask your father." On the following day when Dr. Surtaine, who had been out of town for several days, dropped in at the office, Hal had a memorandum ready on the point.
"I suppose," he said, "the hardest thing he ever had to do in his life was to print your picture." "Did he have to print it?" "Didn't he? It was news." "And that's your god, isn't it, Mr. Mac?" said his visitor, smiling. "It's only a small name for Truth. Good men have died for that." "Or killed others for their ideal of it." "Miss Esmé," said the invalid, "Hal Surtaine has had to face two tests.
Perhaps I could make suggestions sometimes." She rose, thanking him, and Hal held open the door for her. Once again he felt, with a strange sensation, her eyes take hold on his as she passed him. "Pretty kid," observed Ellis. "Veltman is crazy about her, they say." "Good kid, too," added Dr. Surtaine, emphasizing the adjective. "You might tell Veltman that, whoever he is."
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