"Phew! I should say not!"
"They could stop it, I suppose."
"I'm not so sure," he said quietly. "If the boy has made up his mind."
I sank in a chair, trying to think.
"The executors mustn't know. Jack. We'll keep the thing quiet. We've got to appeal to Jerry."
"That's precisely the conclusion I've reached myself. I've asked him to come this morning. He may be in at any moment."
I looked out of the window thoughtfully toward the distant Jersey shore.
"This isn't like Jerry. He's a fine athlete and a good sportsman—for the fun he gets out of the thing. But he has too good a mind not to be above the personal vulgarity of such an exhibition as this. His finer instincts, his natural modesty, his lack of vanity—everything that we know of the boy contradicts the notion of a personal incentive for this wild plan. Does he know what he's doing—what it means—the publicity—?"
"He thinks he's dodging that. Nobody knows him in New York except a few fellows at the clubs, he says."
"But has he no consideration for us—for me?" I cried.