"And did Bartlett's uncle really mulct Mr.Carwell in that insurance deal?""Well, that's according to how you look at the ins and outs of modern high finance.It was a case of skin or be skinned, and I guess Harry's uncle skinned first and beat Mr.Carwell to it.It was six of one and a half dozen of the other.The deal would have been legitimate either way it swung, but it made Mr.Carwell sore for a time, and that, more than anything else, made him quarrel with Harry when Morocco Kate was mentioned."The letters in the secret drawer, which had so worried Viola, proved to be very ******, after all.They referred to a certain local committee, organized for an international financial deal which Mr.Carwell was endeavoring to swing with Captain Poland.The latter thought, because of his intimate association with Viola's father, that the latter might use his influence in the captain's love affair.But that was not to be.So Viola's worry was for naught in this respect.
And so the golf course mystery was cleared up, though even to the end, when he had paid the penalty for his crime, the chauffeur would not reveal the nature of the poison he had mixed with the dope which had made him a wreck.
Beside the still water, that ran in a deep eddy where the stream curved under the trees, Colonel Ashley sat fishing.Beside him on the grass a little boy, with black, curling hair, and deep, brown eyes, sat clicking aspare reel.Off to one side, in the shade, a colored man snored.
"Hey, Unk Bob!" lisped the little boy."Don't Shag make an awful funny noise?""He certainly does, Gerry!He certainly does!" "Just `ike a saw bitin' wood.""That's it, Gerry! I'll have to speak to Shag about it.But now, Gerry, my boy, you must keep still while Unk Bob catches a big fish.""Ess, I keep still.But you tell me a `tory after?" "Yes, I'll tell you a story.""Will you tell me how you was a fissin', an' a big white ball comed an', zipp! knocked ze fiss off your hook? Will you tell me dat fiss `tory?""Yes, Gerry, I'll tell you that if you'll be quiet now."And Shag's snores mingled with the gentle whisper of the water and the sighing of the wind in the willows.
And then, when the creel had been emptied and Colonel Robert Lee Ashley sat on the porch with Gerry Ashley Bartlett snugly curled in his lap and told the story of the golf ball and the fish, while Shag cleaned the fish fresh from the brook, two figures stood in the door of the house.
"Look, Harry!" softly said the woman's voice."Isn't that a picture?" "It is, indeed, my dear.Gerry adores the colonel.""No wonder.I do myself.Oh, by the way, Harry, I had a letter from Captain Poland today.""Did you? Where is he now?" asked Harry Bartlett, as his eyes turned lovingly from the figure of his little son in the colonel's lap to that of his wife beside him.
"In the Philippines.He says he thinks he'll settIe there.He was so pleased that we named the Boy after him.""Was he?" and then, as his wife went over to steal up behind her little son and clasp her hands over his eyes, the man, standing alone on the porch, murmured:
"Poor Gerry!" And it was of the lonely man in the Philippines he was speaking.
In the silent shadows Colonel Robert Lee Ashley fished again.This time he was alone, save for the omnipresent Shag.And as the latternetted a fish, and slipped it into the grass-lined creel, he spoke and said: "Mr.Young, he done ast me to-day when we gwine back t' de city.
He done say dere's a big case waitin' fo' you, Colonel, sah.When is we- all gwine back?""Never, Shag!" "Nevah, Colonel, sah?"
"No.I'm going to spend all the rest of my life fishing.I've resigned from the detective business!I'll never take another case Never!"And Shag chuckled silently as he closed the creel.
