"Well, Langdon, how are you?" his host asked, but there was no warmth

in his greeting.

"As well as a poor devil like me ever is," began Langdon obsequiously.

He sighed, looked about the comfortable room and finished with: "Lucky

dog."

Sanderson stood on no ceremony with his guest, who was a thoroughly

unscrupulous young man. Once or twice Langdon had helped Sanderson out

of scrapes that would have sent him home from college without his

degree, had they come to the ears of the faculty. In return for this

assistance, Sanderson had lent him large sums of money, which the owner

entertained no hopes of recovering. Sanderson tried to balance matters

by treating Langdon with scant ceremony when they were alone.

"Well, old man," began his host, "I do not flatter myself that I owe

this call to any personal charm. You dropped in to ease a little

financial embarrassment by the request of a loan--am I not right?"

"Right, as usual, Sandy, though I'd hardly call it a loan. You know I

was put to a devil of a lot of trouble about that Newton affair, and it

cost money to secure a shut mouth."

Sanderson frowned. "This is the fifth time I have had the pleasure of

settling for that Newton affair, Langdon. It seems to have become a

sort of continuous performance."

Langdon winced.

"I'll tell you what I'll do, Langdon. You owe me two thousand now, not

counting that poker debt. We'll call it square if you'll attend to a

little matter for me and I'll give you an extra thou. to make it worth

your while."

"You know I am always delighted to help you, Sandy."

"When I make it worth your while."

"Put it that way if you wish."

"Do you think that for once in your life you could look less like the

devil than you are naturally, and act the role of parson?"

"I might if I associate with you long enough. Saintly company might

change my expression."

"You won't have time to try. You've got to have your clerical look in

good working order by Friday. Incidently you are to marry me to the

prettiest girl in Massachusetts and keep your mouth closed."

As if to end the discussion, Sanderson strode over to his desk and

wrote out a check for a thousand dollars. He came back, waving it in

the air to dry the ink.

"Perhaps you will condescend to explain," Langdon said, as he pocketed

the check.




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