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Rinehart, Mary Roberts, 1876-1958

"A Poor Wise Man"


"I think it would be better to-morrow, Edith," he said. He glanced
down at the needle in her unaccustomed fingers; she seemed very
appealing, with her new task and the new light in her eyes. After
all, it was worth while, even if it cost a lifetime, to take a
soul out of purgatory.
"I had to tell mother, Willy."
"That's all right Did it cheer her any?"
"Wonderfully. She's asleep now."
He went up to his room, and for some time she heard him moving about.
Then she heard the scraping of his chair as he drew it to his desk,
and vaguely wondered. When he came down he had a sealed envelope
in his hand.
"I am going out, Edith," he said. "I shall be late getting back,
and--I am going to ask you to do something for me."
She loved doing things for him. She flushed slightly.
"If I am not back here by two o'clock to-night," he said, "I want
you to open that letter and read it. Then go to the nearest
telephone, and call up the number I've written down. Ask for the
man whose name is given, and read him the message."
"Willy!" she gasped. "You are doing something dangerous!"
"What I really expect," he said, smiling down at her, "is to be
back, feeling more or less of a fool, by eleven o'clock.


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