Before he could close the drawer completely I caught his arm and held it.
"George," I cried, "George, what is the matter? Tell me; you must tell me."He tried to pull his arm free.Finding that I would not let him do this he gave up the attempt and, with a poor attempt at a laugh, answered, "Matter? Why, nothing is the matter.I am tired and nervous, same as I've told you I've been for the last two or three months, and you scared me, tiptoeing in like a sneak thief, this time of night.""Time of night! It is but a little after nine.What is the matter with you?""Nothing is the matter, I tell you.Let go of my arm, Ros.What do you mean by holding on to me like this?""What do YOU mean, George? What does THAT mean?"I pointed to the drawer.He looked and, with a sudden effort, jerked his arm free and closed the drawer.
"That?" with a forced laugh."Oh, that's nothing.It was late and I was alone here, so--""I know better.George, you're frightening us all.Don't you suppose we can see that something is wrong with you? I have seen it ever since I came here to work.You are worrying your friends.
You worry me.Give us a chance to help you.Give ME a chance.
You owe me that.Tell me your trouble and I'll pull you out of it;see if I don't."
My confidence was, of course, only pretence, but my earnestness had some effect.He looked at me wistfully, and shook his head.
"Nobody can pull me out," he said."You're a good fellow to want to help, but you can't.There ain't any trouble.I'm just nervous--""I know better.You're lying, George.Yes, you are; you're lying.""Humph! You're pretty plain spoken, Ros Paine.There ain't many people I'd take that from.""You'll take it from me, because you can't help it and because you know it is true.Come, George; come.You have been a friend to me; the only real friend I have had in years.I have been looking for a chance to get even for what you have done for me.Maybe here is the chance.Let me help you.I will."He was wavering; I could see it.But again he shook his head.
"Nobody can help me," he said.
"George, for my sake--well, then, if not for my sake or your own, then for Nellie's, give me a chance.You aren't treating her right, George.You should think of her.You--""Stop! Damn you, Ros Paine! what right have you to--""The right of a friend, her friend and yours.You're frightening the poor girl to death.She is beginning to be afraid you don't care for her.""I? I don't care for HER? I don't-- Oh, my God!"To my utter amazement he began to laugh.And then, all at once, his laughter ceased, he swayed, choked, and, suddenly collapsing in the chair, dropped his head upon his arms on the table and sobbed, sobs that shook him from head to heel.
For one strong, healthy, normal man to see another cry is a disconcerting and uncomfortable experience.Masculine tears do not flow easily and poor George, on the verge of hysterics, was a pitiful and distressing spectacle.I was almost as completely disorganized as he.I felt ashamed for him and ashamed of myself for having seen him in such a condition.I wanted desperately to help him and I did not know what to do, so beyond patting him on the back and begging him repeatedly to brace up and not behave like that, I did nothing.At last his sobs ceased and he was silent.Ihad risen from my chair and now I stood there with a hand on his shoulder; the ticking of the ancient eight-sided clock on the wall sounded loud in the room.
Suddenly he sat up and threw off my hand.
"Well," he said, bitterly, "I'm a fine specimen of a man, ain't I.
Ain't you proud of me?"
"I am mighty sorry for you," I answered."And I mean to help you.""You can't."
"How do you know?"
"Because I do know, Ros," he turned and looked me straight in the eye."I am going to give you some good advice.Take it, for your own sake.Clear out of here and leave me.Don't have anything more to do with me.Clear out."I did not move.
"Are you going to do as I tell you?" he demanded."Mind, I'm telling you this for your own good.Will you clear out and leave me?"I smiled."Of course not," I answered.
"Don't be a fool.You can't afford to be my friend.Clear out and leave me, do you hear?""I hear.Now, George, what is it?"
His fingers tapped the table.I could see he was making up his mind.
"You want to know?" he said."You won't be satisfied until you do?""I have made that fairly plain, I hope.At least I've tried to."His fist clenched and he struck the table.
"Then, by the Almighty, I'll tell you!" he cried, fiercely."It'll be all over the county in a week.You might as well know it now.
I'm a crook.I'm a thief.I've stolen money from this bank and Ican't pay it back because I haven't got it and can't get it.I'm a crook, I tell you, and in a week or so it'll be the county jail for mine.Unless--unless," with a significant glance at the drawer, "something else happens to me in the meantime.There; now you know.Are you satisfied? Are you happy because you've found out?"I did not answer.To tell the truth I was not entirely overcome by surprise at the disclosure.I had begun to suspect something of the sort.Yet, now that my suspicions were confirmed, I was too greatly shocked and horrified to speak at once.
"Well?" he sneered."Now will you clear out and let me settle this my own way?"I pulled my chair forward and sat down.
