forgiveness I can't figure out what a man ought to do when he's
waited almost a lifetime to get it. I've always been hard as rock;
I thought a man had to be to make money, but now it all don't seem
worth while, for what good is your money when you're old if your
conscience is going to torment you?

Right now I'd give half I possessed if I could make up to a young
fellow for a contemptible wrong I did him. So I'm writing this to
ask you to do it for me, and then I guess I'll rest
easier--wherever I am.

Neither of you knew, I suppose, just what made the Westley Cement
Mixer a success; it came near not being one. Back there when we
were just starting it up, Craig Winton, a young, smart-looking
chap, came to me with a mechanical device he'd invented that he
believed we needed in our cement-mixing machine. We did--I knew
right off that that invention was what we had to have to make our
business a success; without it every cent the other stockholders
and myself had put into the thing would be lost. I offered the
young fellow a paltry amount, and when he wouldn't accept it, I let
him go away. Our engineers worked hard to get his idea, but they
couldn't. After a few months he came back. He looked ill and he was
shabby and low-spirited. I told him we wouldn't give him a cent
more, that I didn't think his invention would help us much, and I
let him go away again. The directors were all for paying him any
amount, but I told them that if we'd wait he'd come back and as
good as give the thing to us or I couldn't read signs, for I'd seen
something mighty like desperation in the chap's eyes. Even though
the directors talked a lot about failure, I thought the gamble was
worth a try, and I made them wait. I was right--young Winton came
back, looking more like a wreck than ever, and he took just what I
offered him, which was a little less than my first price. And I
made him sign a paper waiving all future claims on the patents or
the stockholders of the firm. That little invention made all our
money. But lately I can't get the fellow's eyes out of my
mind--they were queer eyes, glowing like they were lighted, and
that last time they had a look in them as though something was
dead.

I'm too old to face this thing before the world, but I want you to