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For he had sunk back in his seat, his face white, his eyes staring, his jaw dropped. To him she was an apparition, one risen from the dead to confront him with the darkest hour of all his past, when a broken-hearted wife had kneeled to him, begging her husband's life. Yet it was broad daylight and he wide awake. "Are you Malachi Wadislaw?" "I I thought you were dead!" "No, not dead.
"Wadislaw" was not a particularly pleasing name that one should dwell upon it, unless necessary. "Adrian" was better and far more common. Neither did it follow that this person was of a family he remembered far too well; and so Mr. Dutton reassured himself. In any case the youth was now "the stranger within the gates" and therefore entitled to the best. "Adrian, then.
Upon reaching the New York railway station, Adrian had stopped long enough to send his mother an explanatory telegram, so that she might not worry over his sudden disappearance. He had also urged her in it, to "make a good visit, since he would be at home to look after his father." In this new consideration for the feelings of others he was now thankful that Mrs. Wadislaw was away.
What is your father's name?" As he spoke the man's hands gripped the arms of his chair more tightly, like one prepared for an unpleasant answer. "Malachi Wadislaw." The questioner waited a moment, during which he seemed to be thinking profoundly. Then he rallied his own judgment. It was an uncommon name, but there might be two men bearing it. That was not impossible. "Where does he live?"
He is a Wadislaw. His father's name is Malachi Wadislaw, and my business here is with him." "Wadislaw, the banker? Why then, of course, it's all right. Officer, please call a cab and take them to Number West Twenty-fifth Street. That's my friend's; and say I sent them." "Mother, that was Margot!" Mrs. Wadislaw heard but did not comprehend what Adrian was saying.
Wadislaw seemed brighter than usual, and was almost jovial in his discussion of the proposed alterations of his property. "You will be a rich man, Adrian, a very rich man, as I figure it. Money is the main thing. Get money and and keep it;" he added with a cautious glance around the breakfast room.
They had been the last to arrive and as soon as greetings were over the meal was immediately served; but on their way toward the dining-room, Mrs. Wadislaw pressed her son's arm and nodded significantly toward the leader of the palm-hidden orchestra. "Take a look at that man." "Yes. Who is he?" "A convict, life sentence. Number 526. He plays divinely, violin. But "
There was no hope for him from the beginning. None. They found me all but dead. The money gone. He by me, the steel rod in his hand with which we used to fasten the that very safe. I Why, I can see it all as if it were to-day, even though they lifted me for dead, and found him standing, dazed and speechless. When they questioned him about the money he said: 'Ask Malachi Wadislaw.
If He wants you to go back to that home He'll find a way. Now, it's queer. Here we've been talking ever so long yet I don't know who you are. You know all of us: Uncle Hugh Dutton, Angelique Ricord, and me. I'm Margot Romeyn. What is your name?" "Mine? Oh! I'm Adrian Wadislaw. A good-for-nought, some people say. Young Wadislaw, the sinner, son of old Wadislaw, the saint."
It was a well-known fact, upon the "street," that the employees of "Wadislaw's" received almost niggardly payment. Wadislaw, himself had the reputation of penuriousness, and that his family had lived in the style they had was because Mrs. Wadislaw's personal income paid expenses. "Put it away. Put it away where nobody can find it. There are more robbers than honest men in the country.
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