The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg
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Transcribed from the 1907 Chatto & Windus edition by David Price, emailccx074@coventry.ac.uk
THE MAN THAT CORRUPTED HADLEYBURG
I.
It was many years ago. Hadleyburg was the most honest and upright townin all the region round about. It had kept that reputation unsmirchedduring three generations, and was prouder of it than of any other of itspossessions. It was so proud of it, and so anxious to insure itsperpetuation, that it began to teach the principles of honest dealing toits babies in the cradle, and made the like teachings the staple of theirculture thenceforward through all the years devoted to their education.Also, throughout the formative years temptations were kept out of the wayof the young people, so that their honesty could have every chance toharden and solidify, and become a part of their very bone. Theneighbouring towns were jealous of this honourable supremacy, andaffected to sneer at Hadleyburg's pride in it and call it vanity; but allthe same they were obliged to acknowledge that Hadleyburg was in realityan incorruptible town; and if pressed they would also acknowledge thatthe mere fact that a young man hailed from Hadleyburg was all therecommendation he needed when he went forth from his natal town to seekfor responsible employment.
But at last, in the drift of time, Hadleyburg had the ill luck to offenda passing stranger--possibly without knowing it, certainly withoutcaring, for Hadleyburg was sufficient unto itself, and cared not a rapfor strangers or their opinions. Still, it would have been well to makean exception in this one's case, for he was a bitter man, and revengeful.All through his wanderings during a whole year he kept his injury inmind, and gave all his leisure moments to trying to invent a compensatingsatisfaction for it. He contrived many plans, and all of them were good,but none of them was quite sweeping enough: the poorest of them wouldhurt a great many individuals, but what he wanted was a plan which wouldcomprehend the entire town, and not let so much as one person escapeunhurt. At last he had a fortunate idea, and when it fell into his brainit lit up his whole head with an evil joy. He began to form a plan atonce, saying to himself "That is the thing to do--I will corrupt thetown."
Six months later he went to Hadleyburg, and arrived in a buggy at thehouse of the old cashier of the bank about ten at night. He got a sackout of the buggy, shouldered it, and staggered with it through thecottage yard, and knocked at the door. A woman's voice said "Come in,"and he entered, and set his sack behind the stove in the parlour, sayingpolitely to the old lady who sat reading the "Missionary Herald" by thelamp:
"Pray keep your seat, madam, I will not disturb you. There--now it ispretty well concealed; one would hardly know it was there. Can I seeyour husband a moment, madam?"
No, he was gone to Brixton, and might not return before morning.
"Very well, madam, it is no matter. I merely wanted to leave that sackin his care, to be delivered to the rightful owner when he shall befound. I am a stranger; he does not know me; I am merely passing throughthe town to-night to discharge a matter which has been long in my mind.My errand is now completed, and I go pleased and a little proud, and youwill never see me again. There is a paper attached to the sack whichwill explain everything. Good-night, madam."
The old lady was afraid of the mysterious big stranger, and was glad tosee him go. But her curiosity was roused, and she went straight to thesack and brought away the paper. It began as follows:
"TO BE PUBLISHED, or, the right man sought out by private inquiry--either will answer. This sack contains gold coin weighing a hundred and sixty pounds four ounces--"
"Mercy on us, and the door not locked!"
Mrs. Richards flew to it all in a tremble and locked it, then pulled downthe window-shades and stood frightened, worried, and wondering if therewas anything else she could do toward making herself and the money moresafe. 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 soonlost 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 thewaters! . . . If it had only been my husband that did it!--for we are sopoor, so old and poor! . . ." Then, with a sigh--"But it was not myEdward; no, it was not he that gave a stranger twenty dollars. It is apity 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'ttouch it. I don't like to be near it; it seems a defilement." She movedto a farther chair. . . "I wish Edward would come, and take it to thebank; a burglar might come at any moment; it is dreadful to be here allalone 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 out; it isdreadful to be poor, and have to make these dismal journeys at my time oflife. Always at the grind, grind, grind, on a salary--another man'sslave, and he sitting at home in his slippers, rich and comfortable."
"I am so sorry for you, Edward, you know that; but be comforted; we haveour livelihood; we have our good name--"
"Yes, Mary, and that is everything. Don't mind my talk--it's just amoment's irritation and doesn't mean anything. Kiss me--there, it's allgone now, and I am not complaining any more. What have you been getting?What's in the sack?"
Then his wife told him the great secret. It dazed him for a moment; thenhe said:
&n
bsp; "It weighs a hundred and sixty pounds? Why, Mary, it's for-ty thou-sanddollars--think of it--a whole fortune! Not ten men in this village areworth that much. Give me the paper."
He skimmed through it and said:
"Isn't it an adventure! Why, it's a romance; it's like the impossiblethings one reads about in books, and never sees in life." He was wellstirred up now; cheerful, even gleeful. He tapped his old wife on thecheek, and said humorously, "Why, we're rich, Mary, rich; all we've gotto do is to bury the money and burn the papers. If the gambler evercomes to inquire, we'll merely look coldly upon him and say: 'What isthis nonsense you are talking? We have never heard of you and your sackof gold before;' and then he would look foolish, and--"
"And in the