e. He glanced at the French clock on the
mantel. His father, he knew, had been at his desk these two hours.

They had little in common--these two. After the death of his young
wife, years before, Hiram Carmody had surrounded himself with a barrier
of imperturbability beyond which even his son never ventured. Cold and
unyielding, men called him--a twentieth century automaton of big
business. Rarely, outside of banking hours, did the two meet. Never but
once did they hold extended conversation. It was upon the occasion of
the younger man's return from a year's Continental travel that his
father summoned him and, with an air of impersonal finality, laid out
his life work. The time had come for him to settle down to business. In
regard to the nature of this business, or any choice he might have in
the matter, William was not consulted. As a matter of course, being a
Carmody, he was to enter the bank. His official position was that of
messenger. His salary, six dollars a week, his private allowance, one
hundred. And thus he was dismissed.

It cannot be chronicled that young Carmody was either surprised or
disappointed at thus being assigned to a career. In truth, up to that
time he had thought very little of the future and made no plans. He
realized in a vague sort of way that some time he would engage in
business; therefore, upon receipt of the paternal edict he merely
looked bored, shrugged, and with a perfunctory, "Yes, sir," quit the
room without comment.

He entered upon his duties stoically and without enthusiasm. At the end
of a year his salary had increased to twelve dollars a week, and his
sphere of usefulness enlarged to embrace the opening and sorting of
mail. The monotony of the life palled upon him. He attended to his
duties with dogged persistence and in the evenings haunted the
gymnasiums. His athletic superiority was soon demonstrated and after a
time, neither in the ring nor on the mat could he find an opponent
worthy the name.

More and more he turned for diversion toward the white lights of
Broadway. Here was amusement, excitement--life! He became immensely
popular among certain of the faster set and all unconsciously found
himself pitted against the most relentless foeman of them all--John
Barleycorn.

Gradually the personnel of his friends changed. Less and less
frequently did he appear at the various social functions of the Avenue,
and more and more did he enter into the spirit of the Great White