make him
whole again."

"You can't do it, Dr. Annister, you can't do it! Oil and water will no
more mix than my characteristics and his can be made to mingle in a
smooth blend again. My purpose in life is to add to the well-being of
the world. I want to lessen its poverty and its degradation and help
to reform the soul-poisoning conditions under which so many thousands
live. I have planned my life and my head is full of schemes for the
betterment of the world. I find it easy to make money. I shall be rich
soon. My chief interest and pleasure will be in using my money to work
out those plans. It is not my intention to do this as charity or
according to ordinary, philanthropic methods. I've no use for charity.
It is wrong and it only makes things worse. What I purpose doing is
to carry out my business schemes by such methods as will enable those
who work with me and for me to earn their own betterments in life, and
then to enlighten and guide them in the spending and investment of
their earnings. I want to prove that that sort of thing is possible
and profitable. In that and similar ways, which will benefit and make
others happy quite as much as they will contribute to my satisfaction,
I expect to spend my life. Felix Brand will design some beautiful
buildings. But he will add to the rottenness of the world and spread
disaster and misery with every day of his life. Will the buildings
atone for all that evil?"

Dr. Annister's person, sunk in the depths of his arm-chair, looked
even smaller than usual, in comparison with this energetic, dominating
figure that stood above him, speaking with emphasis and conviction,
instinct with determined will. He leaned forward and began to tap his
finger-tips, his face thoughtful. Silence fell upon them for a moment.

"My mission," he presently said, slowly and solemnly, "is to heal,
not to judge. But," he added, in a mournful tone, "you give me an idea
of what a splendid man Felix Brand might have been if he had not so
perverted and maimed himself."

Gordon made a gesture of impatience and his dark eyes flashed. "He
chose his way. Let him walk in it. I did my best to warn him where it
would lead. As long as I lived in him, I was his conscience and tried
to plead with him and argue with him. After I broke from him and began
to live my own life I wrote letters to him and told him the sort of
creature he was becoming and what he might expect.

"It was as if we were twins, with only on