“Since two o’clock, I’ve been listening to a story that perplexes me more than any of the others; probably because I prodded a little deeper into the mystery. An old lady I didn’t know existed came to tell me what a wonderful man Doctor Hudson was, and could she be of any aid to me? … I’d like to talk it over with someone. Would it bore you?”
“Tell me—please!”
“Well—it all began, said Mrs. Wickes, with an operation on her husband. Doctor Hudson had warned them it was hopeless. The family was left destitute. She says there was no bill sent from the hospital; that Doctor Hudson found a good position for the older boy and sent the girl, who had some talent for drawing, to an art school … She pointed to that lovely marine over the mantel in our living-room, and said, ‘That’s hers. She gave it to him. It was exhibited by the Architectural League in New York.’ … Doctor Hudson had stood between them and disaster, she said, until they were able to look out for themselves; and when, a couple years later, she went to his office with a small payment on the debt they owed him, he refused to accept it; said, at first, that he had had enough joy out of it, and didn’t want to be repaid any farther. She quite insisted; and he said, ‘Did you ever tell anybody about our little transaction?’ ‘No,’ she replied. ‘You told me not to—and I didn’t.’ ‘Then,’ he declared stoutly, ‘I can’t take it back!’
“Of course, she was dissatisfied to leave it that way—she has all the instincts of a lady—but when she pressed him to take the money he explained, ‘Had I considered this a loan, I could accept its repayment. I did not so regard it, when I invested it in your family. You have all been much more successful and prosperous than I thought you were going to be. So—since I believed I was giving it to you outright, I can’t take it back now because, in the meantime, I have used it all up, myself!’ ”
“Pardon me,” said Masterson, “I don’t believe I quite understand. What was that last thing he said to her?”
Helen nodded, mysteriously, and repeated the inexplicable phrase.
“You may well inquire,” she went on. “I asked Mrs. Wickes what that meant, and she grew restless. ‘I can’t say that I rightly know,’ she stammered.
“ ‘But you have a suspicion!’ I said.
“At that she hurriedly changed the subject by taking a bulky purse from her handbag. She pressed me to take the money. It had been invested, she said, and now she wished to restore it to us.
“I said to her, ‘If Doctor Hudson refused to accept it, so shall I. You had best reinvest it. Put it back where it was, if it yielded a good rate.’
“ ‘Oh, I can’t do that,’ she replied. ‘They’re quite done with it, you know.’
“Well, after that, I gave it up! She was over my head!”
“Perhaps she’s a bit cracked,” hazarded Masterson.
Helen was thoughtful.
“Yes; she would be cracked, and we could let it go at that, and smile over it, if she was the only one of her species.”
“You mean that you’ve entertained some more like her?”
She nodded.
“Yesterday, a quite well-known merchant called on me. You would recognize his name. His affair with Doctor Hudson dated ten years back. He wanted to pay me a pretty large sum of money which he said was interest on a loan. I thought it odd that he was coming forward with it after so long a time, and he confessed that Doctor Hudson had refused it. So did I, of course.
“My curiosity had the better of me, and I pressed him to tell me about it. He said that about ten years ago he was on the rim of failure. He had started in business for himself; had overreached; and, as if he was not having enough anxiety, his wife passed through a lengthy and expensive illness. He had built a beautiful home. It was more than half paid for. He decided to let it go at a cruel sacrifice to get cash to put into his tottering business. He listed the house with a real estate concern. It was worth thirty-five thousand dollars. He was offering it for twenty thousand. There was a temporary depression of real estate values. Well—next day, he said, Doctor Hudson came to see him.
“ ‘I understand you’re selling your home for twenty thousand dollars. Why are you doing that? It’s worth twice that much.’
“The young merchant explained that he must have money immediately, or his business would fail.
“ ‘I’ll lend you twenty thousand,’ said Doctor Hudson. ‘I haven’t it, but I can get it. Pay me the principal of this loan when you are prospering again. I shall not expect any interest, because I have use for it, myself; and you are not to tell anyone, while I live, that we have transacted this business.’ ”
“What an odd deal,” commented Masterson.
“Wait until you hear the rest of it,” said Helen quietly. “Within three years, my caller said, he had returned the money, and was insistent upon paying interest on the loan. Doctor Hudson refused to take it. And what do you think he said when he declined to accept the money?”
“Give up!”
“He said, ‘I can’t take it, you see; for I’ve used it all up myself!’ Now—that’s five distinct times I’ve heard that phrase, in the past week! What do you make of it?”
“Queer!” said Masterson. “Couldn’t have had something to do with his income tax, could it? You know … so much allowed for gifts, charity, and the like.”
“Tommy, don’t be foolish!”
“Well—have you a theory?”
“Not the faintest glimmer of one.” Then, animatedly, “Did you ever hear
