I am not writing an apology for my life, and I shall

not attempt to extenuate my conduct in going abroad

at the end of my course at Tech and, when I made

Laurance Donovan's acquaintance, in setting off with

him on a career of adventure. I do not regret, though

possibly it would be more to my credit if I did, the

months spent leisurely following the Danube east of

the Iron Gate-Laurance Donovan always with me,

while we urged the villagers and inn-loafers to all manner

of sedition, acquitting ourselves so well that, when

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we came out into the Black Sea for further pleasure,

Russia did us the honor to keep a spy at our heels. I

should like, for my own satisfaction, at least, to set

down an account of certain affairs in which we were

concerned at Belgrad, but without Larry's consent I

am not at liberty to do so. Nor shall I take time here

to describe our travels in Africa, though our study of

the Atlas Mountain dwarfs won us honorable mention

by the British Ethnological Society.

These were my yesterdays; but to-day I sat in Arthur

Pickering's office in the towering Alexis Building, conscious

of the muffled roar of Broadway, discussing the

terms of my Grandfather Glenarm's will with a man

whom I disliked as heartily as it is safe for one man to

dislike another. Pickering had asked me a question,

and I was suddenly aware that his eyes were fixed upon

me and that he awaited my answer.

"What do I think of it?" I repeated. "I don't know

that it makes any difference what I think, but I'll tell

you, if you want to know, that I call it infamous, outrageous,

that a man should leave a ridiculous will of

that sort behind him. All the old money-bags who pile

up fortunes magnify the importance of their money.

They imagine that every kindness, every ordinary courtesy

shown them, is merely a bid for a slice of the cake.

I'm disappointed in my grandfather. He was a splendid

old man, though God knows he had his queer ways.

I'll bet a thousand dollars, if I have so much money in

the world, that this scheme is yours, Pickering, and not

his. It smacks of your ancient vindictiveness, and John

Marshall Glenarm had none of that in his blood. That

stipulation about my residence out there is fantastic.

I don't have to be a lawyer to know that; and no doubt

I could break the will; I've a good notion to try it,

anyhow."

"To be sure. You can tie up the estate for half

a dozen years if you like," he replied coolly. He did

not look upon me as likely to become a formidable

litigant. My staying qualities had been proved weak

long ago, as Pickering knew well enough.




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