A new name

by Grace Livingston Hill

There was one other occurrence of the day that set its searing touch upon his troubled mind, and that was that when he had been returning from lunch he had lifted his eyes to the wall beyond the table where patrons were standing writing checks, and had seen a large card hanging on that wall in full sight of all who entered the bank, bearing the picture of a young man, and underneath the picture the words, in large letters, “$5,000 Reward—”

He read no more. To his distorted vision the picture seemed to be one of himself. Yet he was not near enough to see it, and he dared not go nearer. It had been like a Nemesis staring him in the face all the afternoon as he worked away at the game of money, every time he looked up, and tried not to see the card upon the wall with the face and the words upon it: yet always saw them.

He thought of the card now as he stood by the window and looked out, thinking how he could get across that tin roof silently, and down to the ground by the way of the rose trellis.

Then the thought presented itself that perhaps, after all, he was safer there, in the bank, even if it proved to be his own picture staring across at him, than he would be out in the world trying to run away from people who were hunting for him and wanting to get that reward. No one would think of looking for that face behind the teller’s window. He was bearing an honored name, and behind that name he was safe. He must stay. That is, unless the other man turned up, and then—? Well, then it would be time enough to decide what to do. At least his situation could be no worse than it was now. He would go to bed and to sleep like other people, and tomorrow he would get up and go to the bank and play that enticing game of money again, and see if he could get away with it all. At least it would keep his mind occupied, so that he would not always have to see Bessie Chapparelle lying huddled beneath that overturned car.

He turned from the window and looked toward the tempting bed again. He was not used to resisting temptations. It had been his wont always to do exactly as he pleased, no matter what the consequences. Let the consequences take care of themselves when they arrived. Ten to one they would never arrive. It had been his experience that if you kept enough things going there was no room for consequences. Habit is a tremendous power. Even in the face of a possible arrest for murder it swayed him now. And he was tired—deadly tired. The excitement of the day, added to the excitement of the days that had gone before, had exhausted him. Add to that the fact that he had been without stimulant of any kind, unless you could call coffee stimulant. It was a strange thing, all these people who did not drink and did not approve of smoking. How did they get that way?

He had thought that as soon as he got out in the world again somehow he would manage a pack of cigarettes. But at the breakfast-table Mrs. Summers had told him how the one thing that had held her back at first from being ready to take him in was that she hated smoking in her house, but when Mr. Harper had boasted that he was a young man who never smoked, that decided her.

“And he was so pleased about it,” she added. “You know, though he smokes himself, he said it was a sign of great strength of character in you that you had gone all through the war even without smoking, and you were said not to be a sissy-boy, either.”

He had paid little heed to her words while he was eating his breakfast, because his mind was engrossed with how he could get away, but down at the bank Mr. Harper, at noon, lighting his cigar, looked at him apologetically, and said:

“I know you don’t smoke, Murray, but I hope you’ll pardon us older fellows who began too young in life to cut it out now. I admire your strength tremendously.”

He had opened his mouth to disclaim any such strength, to say that they had been misinformed, for his whole system was crying out for the comfort of a smoke, but a diversion suddenly occurred, and caution held him back from contradicting it later. Besides, the entire company seemed to have heard it about him that he did not smoke, and he dared not attempt to invent a story which would show they were mistaken. If he was supposed to be that kind of young man, better let it stand. He could the more easily unobserved slip away without their immediate alarm.