dfather--a mysterious, wonderful gnome at whose beck gold leaped
from the mountainside. It was just the illusion he wished to create. In
the final analysis the figure of the gnome is the most beloved figure in
the rotten class to which we belong.

"And then, just as spontaneously as it had come, Bewsher's money began
to melt away--slowly at first; faster afterward until, finally, he was
back again to his original income. This was a time of stress, of hurried
consultations, of sympathy on the part of Morton, of some rather ugly
funk on the part of Bewsher; and Morton realized that in the eyes of the
girl he was rapidly becoming once more the dominant figure. It didn't do
him much good"--Sir John broke the stem of the rose between his fingers.

"Soon there was an end to it all. There came, finally, a very unpleasant
evening. This too was in April; April a year after Bewsher's visit to
Morton's chambers, only this time the scene was laid in an office.
Bewsher had put a check on the desk. 'Here,' he said, 'that will tide me
over until I can get on my feet,' and his voice was curiously thick; and
Morton, looking down, had seen that the signature wasn't genuine--a
clumsy business done by a clumsy man--and, despite all his training,
from what he said, a little cold shiver had run up and down his back.
This had gone farther than he had planned. But he made no remark, simply
pocketed the check, and the next day settled out of his own pockets
Bewsher's sorry affairs; put him back, that is, where he had started,
with a small income mortgaged beyond hope. Then he sent a note to the
girl requesting an interview on urgent business. She saw him that night
in her drawing-room. She was very lovely. Morton was all friendly
sympathy. It wasn't altogether unreal, either. I think, from What he
told me, he was genuinely touched. But he felt, you know--the urge, the
goad, of his own career. His kind do. Ultimately they are not their own
masters. He showed the girl the check--not at first, you understand,
but delicately, after preliminary discussion; reluctantly upon repeated
urging. 'What was he to do? What would she advise? Bewsher was safe, of
course; he had seen to that; but the whole unintelligible, shocking
aspect of the thing!' He tore the check up and threw it in the fire. He
was not unaware that the girl's eyes admired him. It was a warm night.
He said good-by and walked home along the deserted street. He
remembered, he told me, how s