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Show 1 SHEER LUCK 1 By FRANK F1LSON J TTTfTffTTfTfffff-rfT.t (Copyright. 1916, by W. G. Chapman.) In the train on his way buck to the suburb in which lie lived Harold Don-ton Don-ton reflected bitterly that all his troubles had arisen from a sentence spoken by hir wife. "I don't see why you can't make money as easily as other men." That had been two years before, when Denton was a bank clerk on a salary of $35. Today he was still a bank clerk, on a salary of $37.50. But he was accounted one of the leading citizens of the town. Mrs. Denton had given out, as, indeed, in-deed, her husband had told her, that Harold held a very responsible position posi-tion in the city bank. He lived on a scale of about $125 weekly. And he actually spent $125 weekly, for he had been defrauding the bank systematically syste-matically for 18 months. His wife knew nothing, of course. She thought the manager had recognized recog-nized her husband's solid worth. She thought their automobile came out of his salary, and her clothes, and the three maids, and the bountiful table, the club subscription, and all the rest of the tout ensemble which had contributed con-tributed to her happiness. And Harold Har-old Denton reflected bitterly that he had no more than before he began his criminal career. Things had been approaching a climax cli-max of late, Suspicion had been s aroused, and an expert auditor was to begin going through the books on the morrow. Steel, the manager, was like a thunderstorm all day. The president had called in the accountant against his judgment; he himself had ' Fate Had Dealt Him a Sorry Stroke. spent hours on the books, and he seemed to regard the president's act as a reflection on him. Denton was wondering what to do. His idea had been that, when discovery discov-ery became Inevitable, he would go to Florida and leave Mrs. Denton to seek a divorce. Of course, shesvould divorce di-vorce him. She was that type of woman. He had long since been dis illusioned about their happiness, or the possibility of it. When he -got home a letter from England was lying on ins table. He opened it, wondering a little who his correspondent might be. Denton had left England in youth, had been kicked out, he was wont to say, as a ne'er-do-well, and he had long since severed all connections with his family. He read the letter and looked at the inclosure that fluttered to the table. He reeled back against the wall, gasping. gasp-ing. Fate had dealt him a sorry stroke. For it was a draft for $70,-000, $70,-000, which his uncle had left him. And $40,000 would more than cover his defalcations. With thirty thousand he could realize real-ize his Jin of retiring from work and starling that Florida plantation of which he had dreamed. He had just time to hide the letter when his wife came in. "Harold," she began, and hesitated. "Harold, I want to have a talk with you. Things can't go on as they have been going." "No," answered tlarold mechanically, mechanical-ly, placing a different significance upon her words In his own mind. "Harold, you and I used to care for each other in the old days before this money came between us. I wish we could be as we used to be." "But this Is your life," he said, sweeping his hand round the luxuriously luxuri-ously furnished room. "No, Harold. 1 admit I used to wish we were s rich as others of our friends. But when I saw that you believed be-lieved I only cared for wealth, I well, I pretended. Harold, I would rather have you and that plantation we spoke of than anything on earth." He stared at her incredulously. "You mean that?" he stammered. But he saw she did, for she was weeping in his arms. And a wonderful wonder-ful reconciliation descended between them, as if from heaven. "You shall have it," he said solemnly, sol-emnly, raising his hand. "I am going to get out of the rut. I have thought it over for a long time, my dear." . "Let it be soon," she answered pite-ously. pite-ously. On the next day ho took the train with his scheme fully matured. He would make a clean breast of the matter to Steel, offering to make good if the bank would abstain from prosecuting prose-cuting him. And he would take his thirty thousand and -get out of It all, with his wife, to Florida. But would Steel and the president consent? They were hard men, and he would have to play his cards warily. wari-ly. He pondered over the perplexing situation in the train, and he had not quite decided when he reached the bank. He noticed an atmosphere of subdued sub-dued excitement as he went to put on his office coat. Men were whispering and looking furtively toward him. But Harold had shut himself off from the friendship of men, as every man must when he devotes himself to the violation of moral laws, and nobody came forward to speak to him. He was just entering the cage when the manager's boy came up. "The president wants to see you in his private pri-vate room, Mr. Denton," he said. Harold Denton mechanically changed his coat again. The crisis was upon him, and he had not yet made up his mind. And he. was conscious only of a wild impulse to fly. He went out of the cage and Into the corridor. The watchman was looking at him. On his right lay the president's room, ahead of him only the watchman and the glass door, and then the street, with the cars rumbling down In a blaze of sunshine. If he chose to make a bolt he could probably prob-ably get away. Then he suddenly remembered. re-membered. The draft was in his pocket and uncashed. If he ran away he would run away penniless. For just an instant he hesitated, and then, squaring his shoulders, he entered the president's room. "I know why you have sent for me, Mr. Sawyer," he began. The president, who was at his desk alone, looked up at him. He bore traces of a severe struggle. "A terrible terri-ble thing!" he said. "A terrible thing, Mr. Denton !" "A commonplace of our business," sneered Harold. The president thumped his fist upon the table. "No, sir," he said. "A very infrequent thing. And to think It should have been Steel I I trusted him implicitly." "Steel?" gasped Harold. "lTou haven't heard? Steel committed commit-ted suicide this morning, after writing a letter confessing that he had defaulted de-faulted and robbed the bank of an unknown un-known amount. A terrible thing, Mr. Denton. I want you to go over the books with the auditor and help him." Somehow Denton found himself In the bank again. lie was saved ; and all that remained now was to manage, as he could manage, to replace the amount he had stolen. As he changed his coat'for the third time the irony of the thing began lo eat into his soul. And then he found his tears falling upon the paper. And above all, he had a vision of his wife restored to him, and their fortunate future. |