A master hand : $b The story of a crimeDallas, Richard
General
A master hand : $b The story of a crime
Dallas, Richard
Detective and mystery stories; Murder -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction
To begin with my host--Arthur White was an attractive, lovable fellow
when in his brighter moods, but weak and variable. A man of good
impulses, I think, but so fond of luxury and idleness that he was often
selfish in his self-indulgence; of that sort of men that other men feel
something akin to affection for, such as for a younger brother or a
woman, so easily led and dependent do they seem. He was still young,
not yet out of his twenties, and, living in extravagant idleness and
dissipation, was spending pretty rapidly a bequest of a hundred thousand
dollars he had inherited, about two years before, from an uncle.
The bequest had created some little comment at the time, because thereby
the only son of the testator, who was named in the will as residuary
legatee, was reported to have inherited little or nothing.
However, the son had always been a "bad lot" and neglected the old man,
whereas Arthur had lived with him, and, after his lazy fashion, cared
for and helped him in his affairs. So the busy world shrugged its
shoulders and passed the episode by, and only prosy moralists dwelt upon
it to point the Fifth Commandment.
How Arthur reconciled it with his conscience to keep all the money, I
never heard him say, but any sacrifice, I fancy, would have seemed hard
to one so self-indulgent. In any event, whatever may have been the right
or wrong of it, he was making the most of his fortune while it lasted,
and his friends were incidentally getting some benefit therefrom too, as
our invitation for the evening testified.
While White was the youngest of the quartette I was to join, Gilbert
Littell was the oldest--old enough and worldly-wise enough, too, to have
been a valuable friend and adviser to the young man, if the latter would
have listened to, or been by any one diverted from the rapid pace he was
going. He did try, I thought, to steady him sometimes, but would always
abandon the effort and say in his quiet way that he guessed the boy
would have to sow his wild oats and waste his dollars before he could be
brought up; which was also the general opinion among us.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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