The best short stories of 1918, and the yearbook of the American short story
General
The best short stories of 1918, and the yearbook of the American short story
American fiction -- 20th century; Short stories -- 20th century -- Bibliography; Short stories -- 20th century -- Indexes; Short stories, American
John had gone to the Mercantile Trust and Bonding Company, had called on
Mr. Scandling, and was now wearying him by a detailed and useless
account of Jasper’s early years and recent vices. He was turned over to
the detective employed by the bonding company to find Jasper. The
detective was a hard, noisy man, who found John even more tedious. John
insisted on his coming out to examine the house in Rosebank, and the
detective did so—but sketchily, trying to escape. John spent at least
five minutes in showing him the shed where Jasper had sometimes kept his
car.
He also attempted to interest the detective in his precious but spotty
books. He unlocked one section of the case, dragged down a four-volume
set of sermons and started to read them aloud.
The detective interrupted: “Yuh, that’s great stuff, but I guess we
aren’t going to find your brother hiding behind those books!”
The detective got away as soon as possible, after insistently explaining
to John that if they could use his assistance they would let him know.
“If I can only expiate—”
“Yuh, sure, that’s all right!” wailed the detective, fairly running
toward the gate.
John made one more visit to Vernon that day. He called on the chief of
city police. He informed the chief that he had taken the bonding
company’s detective through his house; but wouldn’t the police consent
to search it also? He wanted to expiate— The chief patted John on the
back, advised him not to feel responsible for his brother’s guilt and
begged: “Skip along now—very busy.”
As John walked to the Soul Hope meeting that evening dozens of people
murmured that it was his brother who had robbed the Lumber National
Bank. His head was bowed with the shame. At the meeting he took Jasper’s
sin upon himself, and prayed that Jasper would be caught and receive the
blessed healing of punishment. The others begged John not to feel that
he was guilty—was he not one of the Soul Hope brethren who alone in this
wicked and perverse generation were assured of salvation?
On Thursday, on Saturday morning, on Tuesday and on Friday John went
into the city to call on the president of the bank and the detective.
Twice the president saw him, and was infinitely bored by his sermons.
The third time he sent word that he was out. The fourth time he saw
John, but curtly explained that if John wanted to help them the best
thing he could do was to stay away.
The detective was “out” all four times.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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