down the window-shades and stood frightened, worried, and wondering
if there was anything else she could do toward making herself and
the money more safe. She listened awhile for burglars, then
surrendered to curiosity, and went back to the lamp and finished
reading the paper:
“I am a foreigner, and am presently going back to my own country, to
remain there permanently. I am grateful to America for what I have
received at her hands during my long stay under her flag; and to one
of her citizens–a citizen of Hadleyburg–I am especially grateful
for a great kindness done me a year or two ago. Two great
kindnesses in fact. I will explain. I was a gambler. I say I WAS.
I was a ruined gambler. I arrived in this village at night, hungry
and without a penny. I asked for help–in the dark; I was ashamed
to beg in the light. I begged of the right man. He gave me twenty
dollars–that is to say, he gave me life, as I considered it. He
also gave me fortune; for out of that money I have made myself rich
at the gaming-table. And finally, a remark which he made to me has
remained with me to this day, and has at last conquered me; and in
conquering has saved the remnant of my morals: I shall gamble no
more. Now I have no idea who that man was, but I want him found,
and I want him to have this money, to give away, throw away, or
keep, as he pleases. It is merely my way of testifying my gratitude
to him. If I could stay, I would find him myself; but no matter, he
will be found. This is an honest town, an incorruptible town, and I
know I can trust it without fear. This man can be identified by the
remark which he made to me; I feel persuaded that he will remember
it.
“And now my plan is this: If you prefer to conduct the inquiry
privately, do so. Tell the contents of this present writing to any
one who is likely to be the right man. If he shall answer, ‘I am
the man; the remark I made was so-and-so,’ apply the test–to wit:
open the sack, and in it you will find a sealed envelope containing
that remark. If the remark mentioned by the candidate tallies with
it, give him the money, and ask no further questions, for he is
certainly the right man.
“But if you shall prefer a public inquiry, then publish this present
writing in the local paper–with these instructions added, to wit:
Thirty days from now, let the candidate appear at the town-hall at
eight in the evening (Friday), and hand his remark, in a sealed
envelope, to the Rev. Mr. Burgess (if he will be kind enough to
act); and let Mr. Burgess there and then destroy the seals of the
sack, open it, and see if the remark is correct: if correct, let
the money be delivered, with my sincere gratitude, to my benefactor
thus identified.”
Mrs. Richards sat down, gently quivering with excitement, and was
soon lost in thinkings–after this pattern: “What a strange thing
it is! . . . And what a fortune for that kind man who set his bread
afloat upon the waters! . . . If it had only been my husband that
did it!–for we are so poor, so old and poor! . . .” Then, with a
sigh–“But it was not my Edward; no, it was not he that gave a
stranger twenty dollars. It is a pity too; I see it now. . . ”
Then, with a shudder–“But it is GAMBLERS’ money! the wages of sin;
we couldn’t take it; we couldn’t touch it. I don’t like to be near
it; it seems a defilement.” She moved to a farther chair. . . “I
wish Edward would come, and take it to the bank; a burglar might
come at any moment; it is dreadful to be here all alone with it.”
At eleven Mr. Richards arrived, and while his wife was saying “I am
SO glad you’ve come!” he was saying, “I am so tired–tired clear