CHAPTER XXIII
IN WHICH A BAD MAN REACHES THE END OF HIS ROPE
Herbert walked home from the Black residence that night. He did not care to ride. He wanted to have the opportunity to think over the exciting incidents of the last hour, and felt that he could not do so with any satisfaction to himself unless he was alone. The clocks were striking one o’clock in the morning when he finally reached his lodgings. The gas was burning in the little sitting room, and Tomlin was there in an attitude of expectancy.
“Well?” he said, with a questioning look. “What was the result of your adventure?”
Herbert’s jaw fell. It suddenly dawned upon him that he was once more placed in the attitude of a delinquent. He had unconsciously forgotten all about Tomlin and the fact that he was supposed to be out on an assignment. The thought mortified him very much. He looked into Tomlin’s clear eyes, and what he saw there prompted him to be candid. There was no use in attempting to beat about the bush; he would tell the truth and tell it as simply as possible; so he sat down and related all that had occurred from the time he left Tomlin early in the evening until the present moment. Only upon one phase of the story did he attempt any disguise, and that was when he related the threat which had been hurled at him by the burglar. He told his friend that a person who was very dear to Mary Black was in Adler’s power, and that the robber had threatened to expose this person and involve him in disgrace if he was not given an immediate release. When Herbert had concluded his narrative, Tomlin leaned back in his chair and gave vent to a hearty laugh. Herbert could not understand the cause of his mirth, and said so. Tomlin laughed again, and then said:
“I don’t suppose you see the humorous side of this thing; but it appeals to me very strongly. See here, Harkins, this thing is becoming marked with you. It begins to look as if you had gotten into the habit of falling down on all of your assignments.”
“I do feel a bit silly about this,” began Herbert, “but you see the position I was placed in. You see it was this way—”
“No explanations are necessary,” interrupted Tomlin in his familiar, hearty tones, “explanations are not of much use anyhow. Your friends don’t expect them, and your enemies wouldn’t believe them. I’m frank to say, however, that you did just what any man with red blood in his veins would have done under the circumstances. In fact I would have acted just as you did.”
“Then you don’t feel badly over it? You don’t blame me—”
“Not at all,” interrupted his friend once more; “I only ask you to promise me that you are through with this chivalrous business, and that if you intend to stay in the newspaper profession, you will quit it right here and now, and that hereafter when you are sent out on an assignment you will cover it and write it like a sensible man. Do you promise, Herbert?”
“I promise,” said the other meekly.