The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg, and Other Stories

by Mark Twain

  IV

  At home the Richardses had to endure congratulations and complimentsuntil midnight. Then they were left to themselves. They looked a littlesad, and they sat silent and thinking. Finally Mary sighed and said:

  "Do you think we are to blame, Edward--MUCH to blame?" and her eyeswandered to the accusing triplet of big bank-notes lying on the table,where the congratulators had been gloating over them and reverentlyfingering them. Edward did not answer at once; then he brought out asigh and said, hesitatingly:

  "We--we couldn't help it, Mary. It--well it was ordered. ALL thingsare."

  Mary glanced up and looked at him steadily, but he didn't return thelook. Presently she said:

  "I thought congratulations and praises always tasted good. But--it seemsto me, now--Edward?"

  "Well?"

  "Are you going to stay in the bank?"

  "N--no."

  "Resign?"

  "In the morning--by note."

  "It does seem best."

  Richards bowed his head in his hands and muttered:

  "Before I was not afraid to let oceans of people's money pour through myhands, but--Mary, I am so tired, so tired--"

  "We will go to bed."

  At nine in the morning the stranger called for the sack and took it tothe hotel in a cab. At ten Harkness had a talk with him privately. Thestranger asked for and got five cheques on a metropolitan bank--drawn to"Bearer,"--four for $1,500 each, and one for $34,000. He put one of theformer in his pocket-book, and the remainder, representing $38,500, heput in an envelope, and with these he added a note which he wroteafter Harkness was gone. At eleven he called at the Richards' houseand knocked. Mrs. Richards peeped through the shutters, then went andreceived the envelope, and the stranger disappeared without a word. Shecame back flushed and a little unsteady on her legs, and gasped out:

  "I am sure I recognised him! Last night it seemed to me that maybe I hadseen him somewhere before."

  "He is the man that brought the sack here?"

  "I am almost sure of it."

  "Then he is the ostensible Stephenson too, and sold every importantcitizen in this town with his bogus secret. Now if he has sent chequesinstead of money, we are sold too, after we thought we had escaped. Iwas beginning to feel fairly comfortable once more, after my night'srest, but the look of that envelope makes me sick. It isn't fat enough;$8,500 in even the largest bank-notes makes more bulk than that."

  "Edward, why do you object to cheques?"

  "Cheques signed by Stephenson! I am resigned to take the $8,500 ifit could come in bank-notes--for it does seem that it was so ordered,Mary--but I have never had much courage, and I have not the pluck to tryto market a cheque signed with that disastrous name. It would be a trap.That man tried to catch me; we escaped somehow or other; and now he istrying a new way. If it is cheques--"

  "Oh, Edward, it is TOO bad!" And she held up the cheques and began tocry.

  "Put them in the fire! quick! we mustn't be tempted. It is a trick tomake the world laugh at US, along with the rest, and--Give them to ME,since you can't do it!" He snatched them and tried to hold his grip tillhe could get to the stove; but he was human, he was a cashier, and hestopped a moment to make sure of the signature. Then he came near tofainting.

  "Fan me, Mary, fan me! They are the same as gold!"

  "Oh, how lovely, Edward! Why?"

  "Signed by Harkness. What can the mystery of that be, Mary?"

  "Edward, do you think--"

  "Look here--look at this! Fifteen--fifteen--fifteen--thirty-four.Thirty-eight thousand five hundred! Mary, the sack isn't worth twelvedollars, and Harkness--apparently--has paid about par for it."

  "And does it all come to us, do you think--instead of the ten thousand?"

  "Why, it looks like it. And the cheques are made to 'Bearer,' too."

  "Is that good, Edward? What is it for?"

  "A hint to collect them at some distant bank, I reckon. Perhaps Harknessdoesn't want the matter known. What is that--a note?"

  "Yes. It was with the cheques."

  It was in the "Stephenson" handwriting, but there was no signature. Itsaid:

  "I am a disappointed man. Your honesty is beyond the reach oftemptation. I had a different idea about it, but I wronged you in that,and I beg pardon, and do it sincerely. I honour you--and that is sinceretoo. This town is not worthy to kiss the hem of your garment. Dear sir,I made a square bet with myself that there were nineteen debauchable menin your self-righteous community. I have lost. Take the whole pot, youare entitled to it."

  Richards drew a deep sigh, and said:

  "It seems written with fire--it burns so. Mary--I am miserable again."

  "I, too. Ah, dear, I wish--"

  "To think, Mary--he BELIEVES in me."

  "Oh, don't, Edward--I can't bear it."

  "If those beautiful words were deserved, Mary--and God knows I believedI deserved them once--I think I could give the forty thousand dollarsfor them. And I would put that paper away, as representing more thangold and jewels, and keep it always. But now--We could not live in theshadow of its accusing presence, Mary."

  He put it in the fire.

  A messenger arrived and delivered an envelope. Richards took from it anote and read it; it was from Burgess:

  "You saved me, in a difficult time. I saved you last night. It was atcost of a lie, but I made the sacrifice freely, and out of a gratefulheart. None in this village knows so well as I know how brave and goodand noble you are. At bottom you cannot respect me, knowing as you do ofthat matter of which I am accused, and by the general voice condemned;but I beg that you will at least believe that I am a grateful man; itwill help me to bear my burden. (Signed) 'BURGESS.'"

  "Saved, once more. And on such terms!" He put the note in the fire."I--I wish I were dead, Mary, I wish I were out of it all!"

  "Oh, these are bitter, bitter days, Edward. The stabs, through theirvery generosity, are so deep--and they come so fast!"

  Three days before the election each of two thousand voters suddenlyfound himself in possession of a prized memento--one of the renownedbogus double-eagles. Around one of its faces was stamped these words:"THE REMARK I MADE TO THE POOR STRANGER WAS--" Around the other facewas stamped these: "GO, AND REFORM. (SIGNED) PINKERTON." Thus the entireremaining refuse of the renowned joke was emptied upon a single head,and with calamitous effect. It revived the recent vast laugh andconcentrated it upon Pinkerton; and Harkness's election was a walk-over.

  Within twenty-four hours after the Richardses had received their chequestheir consciences were quieting down, discouraged; the old couple werelearning to reconcile themselves to the sin which they had committed.But they were to learn, now, that a sin takes on new and real terrorswhen there seems a chance that it is going to be found out. This givesit a fresh and most substantial and important aspect. At church themorning sermon was of the usual pattern; it was the same old things saidin the same old way; they had heard them a thousand times and found theminnocuous, next to meaningless, and easy to sleep under; but now itwas different: the sermon seemed to bristle with accusations; it seemedaimed straight and specially at people who were concealing deadly sins.After church they got away from the mob of congratulators as soon asthey could, and hurried homeward, chilled to the bone at they did notknow what--vague, shadowy, indefinite fears. And by chance they caughta glimpse of Mr. Burgess as he turned a corner. He paid no attention totheir nod of recognition! He hadn't seen it; but they did not know that.What could his conduct mean? It might mean--it might--mean--oh, a dozendreadful things. Was it possible that he knew that Richards could havecleared him of guilt in that bygone time, and had been silently waitingfor a chance to even up accounts? At home, in their distress they got toimagining that their servant might have been in the next room listeningwhen Richards revealed the secret to his wife that he knew of Burgess'sinnocence; next Richards began to imagine that he had heard the swishof a gown in there at that time; next, he was sure he HAD heard it. Theywould call S
arah in, on a pretext, and watch her face; if she had beenbetraying them to Mr. Burgess, it would show in her manner. They askedher some questions--questions which were so random and incoherent andseemingly purposeless that the girl felt sure that the old people'sminds had been affected by their sudden good fortune; the sharpand watchful gaze which they bent upon her frightened her, and thatcompleted the business. She blushed, she became nervous and confused,and to the old people these were plain signs of guilt--guilt of somefearful sort or other--without doubt she was a spy and a traitor. Whenthey were alone again they began to piece many unrelated things togetherand get horrible results out of the combination. When things had gotabout to the worst Richards was delivered of a sudden gasp and his wifeasked:

  "Oh, what is it?--what is it?"

  "The note--Burgess's note! Its language was sarcastic, I see it now." Hequoted: "'At bottom you cannot respect me, KNOWING, as you do, of THATMATTER OF which I am accused'--oh, it is perfectly plain, now, God helpme! He knows that I know! You see the ingenuity of the phrasing. It wasa trap--and like a fool, I walked into it. And Mary--!"

  "Oh, it is dreadful--I know what you are going to say--he didn't returnyour transcript of the pretended test-remark."

  "No--kept it to destroy us with. Mary, he has exposed us to somealready. I know it--I know it well. I saw it in a dozen faces afterchurch. Ah, he wouldn't answer our nod of recognition--he knew what hehad been doing!"

  In the night the doctor was called. The news went around in the morningthat the old couple were rather seriously ill--prostrated by theexhausting excitement growing out of their great windfall, thecongratulations, and the late hours, the doctor said. The town wassincerely distressed; for these old people were about all it had left tobe proud of, now.

  Two days later the news was worse. The old couple were delirious,and were doing strange things. By witness of the nurses, Richards hadexhibited cheques--for $8,500? No--for an amazing sum--$38,500! Whatcould be the explanation of this gigantic piece of luck?

  The following day the nurses had more news--and wonderful. They hadconcluded to hide the cheques, lest harm come to them; but when theysearched they were gone from under the patient's pillow--vanished away.The patient said:

  "Let the pillow alone; what do you want?"

  "We thought it best that the cheques--"

  "You will never see them again--they are destroyed. They came fromSatan. I saw the hell-brand on them, and I knew they were sent to betrayme to sin." Then he fell to gabbling strange and dreadful things whichwere not clearly understandable, and which the doctor admonished them tokeep to themselves.

  Richards was right; the cheques were never seen again.

  A nurse must have talked in her sleep, for within two days the forbiddengabblings were the property of the town; and they were of a surprisingsort. They seemed to indicate that Richards had been a claimant forthe sack himself, and that Burgess had concealed that fact and thenmaliciously betrayed it.

  Burgess was taxed with this and stoutly denied it. And he said it wasnot fair to attach weight to the chatter of a sick old man who was outof his mind. Still, suspicion was in the air, and there was much talk.

  After a day or two it was reported that Mrs. Richards's deliriousdeliveries were getting to be duplicates of her husband's. Suspicionflamed up into conviction, now, and the town's pride in the purity ofits one undiscredited important citizen began to dim down and flickertoward extinction.

  Six days passed, then came more news. The old couple were dying.Richards's mind cleared in his latest hour, and he sent for Burgess.Burgess said:

  "Let the room be cleared. I think he wishes to say something inprivacy."

  "No!" said Richards; "I want witnesses. I want you all to hearmy confession, so that I may die a man, and not a dog. I wasclean--artificially--like the rest; and like the rest I fell whentemptation came. I signed a lie, and claimed the miserable sack. Mr.Burgess remembered that I had done him a service, and in gratitude (andignorance) he suppressed my claim and saved me. You know the thing thatwas charged against Burgess years ago. My testimony, and mine alone,could have cleared him, and I was a coward and left him to sufferdisgrace--"

  "No--no--Mr. Richards, you--"

  "My servant betrayed my secret to him--"

  "No one has betrayed anything to me--" "--And then he did a natural andjustifiable thing; he repented of the saving kindness which he had doneme, and he EXPOSED me--as I deserved--"

  "Never!--I make oath--"

  "Out of my heart I forgive him."

  Burgess's impassioned protestations fell upon deaf ears; the dying manpassed away without knowing that once more he had done poor Burgess awrong. The old wife died that night.

  The last of the sacred Nineteen had fallen a prey to the fiendish sack;the town was stripped of the last rag of its ancient glory. Its mourningwas not showy, but it was deep.

  By act of the Legislature--upon prayer and petition--Hadleyburg wasallowed to change its name to (never mind what--I will not give itaway), and leave one word out of the motto that for many generations hadgraced the town's official seal.

  It is an honest town once more, and the man will have to rise early thatcatches it napping again.