Arms and the Woman

"Ah," said I; "that Louisianian cousin of mine, who may or may not live

the year out," recalling the old lawyer's words. "He seems to hang on

pretty well. I hope he'll be interesting; few rich men are. He writes

like a polite creditor. What did the old fellow say was the matter

with him? heart trouble, or consumption? I can't remember." I threw

the note aside and touched up some of my dispatches.

Precisely at ten o'clock the door opened and a man came in. He was

fashionably dressed, a mixture of Piccadilly and Broadway in taste. He

was tall, slender, but well-formed; and his blonde mustache shone out

distinctly against a background of tanned skin. He had fine blue eyes.

"Have I the pleasure of speaking to John Winthrop of New York?" he

began, taking off his hat.

I rose. "I am the man."

He presented his card, and on it I read, "Philip Pembroke."

"Philip Pembroke!" I exclaimed.

"Evidently you are surprised?" showing a set of strong white teeth.

"Truthfully, I am," I said, taking his hand. "You see," I added,

apologetically, "your family lawyer--that is--he gave me

the--er--impression that you were a sickly fellow--one foot in the

grave, or something like. I was not expecting a man of your build."

The smile broadened into a deep laugh, and a merry one, I thought,

enviously. It was so long since I had laughed.

"That was a hobby of the old fellow," he replied. "When I was a boy I

had the palpitation of the heart. He never got rid of the idea that I

might die at any moment. He was always warning me about violent

exercises, the good old soul. Peace to his ashes!"

"He is dead?"

"Yes. When I took to traveling he all but had nervous prostration. I

suppose he told you about that will I made in your favor. It was done

to please him. Still," he added soberly, "it stands. I travel a deal,

and no one knows what may happen. And so you are the John Winthrop my

dad treated so shabbily? Oh, don't protest, he did. I should have

hunted you up long ago, and given you a solid bank account, only I knew

that the son of my aunt must necessarily be a gentleman, and,

therefore, would not look favorably upon such a proceeding."

"Thank you," said I. The fellow pleased me.