The Money Master, Complete

ot without initiative; but there were also the elements o

ilely, as to what he would do after having seen his wife's arms around the neck of another man than himself-a man little more than a manual labourer, while he, Jean Jacques Barbille, had come of the people of the Old Regime. A

ess that it does not break, still the shock numbs activity for awhile, at any rate. The sledge-hammer had descended on Jean Jacques' head, and also had struck him between the eyes; and it is in the credit balance of his ledger of life, that he refrained from useless outcry at the moment. Such a stroke kills some men, either at once, or by lengthened torture; others it sends mad, so that they make a clamour which

been struck by the hammer of treachery. He seemed to realize again that he was still a part of

stute mind, problems which gave way before the master-thinker. There was of course unhappiness in his world. There was death, there was accident occasionally-had his own people not gone down under the scythe of time? But in going they had left behind in real estate and other things good compensation for their loss. There was occasional suffering and poverty a

is way saying in effect, "I am coming. I am Jean Jacques Barbille. You have heard of me. You know me. Wave a

had only made of his wife an incident in his life, in spite of the fact that he thought he loved her; that he had

n sure ground. He had loved to kiss Carmen in the neck, it was so full and soft and round; and when she went about the garden with her dress shortened, and he saw her ankles, even after he had been married thirteen years, and she was thirty-four, he still admired, he still thought that the world was a good place when it produced such a woman. And even when

led up before his eyes, exposing the everlasting mysteries, when he saw his

pick it up. Its fall represented the tumbling walls of life, was the earthquake which shook his world into chaos. He ground the sheet into the gravel with his heel. There would be no cheese-factory built at St. Saviour's

buried for ever, Jean Jacques pulled himself up to his fu

ourse!" he

w hours before, when the little Clerk of the Court had r

hen he made up his mind to do the obvious thin

man who had injured him, as the master-carpenter had done Jean Jacques.

n inevitable things to do, and for all men to do; and they have been doing them from the beginning of time; but the way it is done-is not that genius? There is no new story in the world; all the things that happen have happened for untold

th which he had killed deer in the woods beyond the Saguenay and bear beyond the Chicoutimi. That was simple-an

ll throw nothing away that is to his advantage. There should be other ways than the gun with which to take a man's life-ways which might give a

A pitch-fork and a dung-heap? That had its merits;

ver how, after he had had his say, he was to put George Masson out of the world. But it did not come at once. All makers of life-stories find their difficulty at times. T

his wife noticed that as he entered the house after the Revelation. She noticed also his paleness and his abstraction. For an

acques?" she asked.

I have been thinking, thinking-it is my hobby. I have been planning the cheese-factory, and all at once it comes on-the ache in my

? She has gone to the top of the hill.

well. Was there not a terrible sickness in his house, and had not that woman,

he said, "and I'll bring you a sleeping posset. I know tho

king at her, and clos

ot answer. She thought he was asleep. He was not asleep. He was only thinking how to do the thing which

d not stir, and he did not

ad not been on him the same courage that possessed him th

Jacques!" kept weaving themselves through his vague designs. Why had she sai

was no sleep for him-not even for an hour. Once, in exhaustion, he almost rolled over into the poppies of unconsciousness; but he cam

lume was the master-carpenter giving a last inspection to the repairs. Beyond the master-carpenter-far beyond-was the great mill-wheel! Behind himself, Jean Jacques, was the river held back by the d

nd it looked safe for Jean Jacques. Ho