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regarding it。
He vaguely remembered that it was eight years ago； and eight years
had worked considerable change in the original trustees； greatest
of all in his superior officer； the Mayor； who had died the year
following； leaving his trusteeship to his successor in office； whom
Paul Hathaway had never seen。 The Bank of El Dorado； despite Mrs。
Howard's sanguine belief； had long been in bankruptcy； and；
although Colonel Pendleton still survived it； it was certain that
no other president would succeed to his office as trustee； and that
the function would lapse with him。 Paul himself； a soldier of
fortune； although habitually lucky； had only lately succeeded to a
professionif his political functions could be so described。 Even
with his luck； energy； and ambition； while everything was possible；
nothing was secure。 It seemed； therefore； as if the soulless
official must eventually assume the duties of the two sympathizing
friends who had originated them； and had stood in loco parentis to
the constructive orphan。 The mother； Mrs。 Howard； had disappeared
a year after the Trust had been madeit was charitably presumed in
order to prevent any complications that might arise from her
presence in the country。 With these facts before him； Paul
Hathaway was more concerned in wondering what Pendleton could want
with him than； I fear； any direct sympathy with the situation。 On
the contrary； it appeared to him more favorable for keeping the
secret of Mrs。 Howard's relationship； which would now die with
Colonel Pendleton and himself； and there was no danger of any
emotional betrayal of it in the cold official administration of a
man who had received the Trust through the formal hands of
successive predecessors。 He had forgotten the time limited for the
guardianship； but the girl must soon be of age and off their hands。
If there had ever been any romantic or chivalrous impression left
upon his memory by the scene in the mayor's office； I fear he had
put it away with various other foolish illusions of his youth； to
which he now believed he was superior。
Nevertheless； he would see the colonel； and at once； and settle the
question。 He looked at the address； 〃St。 Charles Hotel。〃 He
remembered an old hostelry of that name； near the Plaza。 Could it
be possible that it had survived the alterations and improvements
of the city？ It was an easy walk through remembered streets； yet
with changed shops and houses and faces。 When he reached the
Plaza； scarce recognizable in its later frontages of brick and
stone； he found the old wooden building still intact； with its
villa…like galleries and verandas incongruously and ostentatiously
overlooked by two new and aspiring erections on either side。 For
an instant he tried to recall the glamour of old days。 He
remembered when his boyish eyes regarded it as the crowning work of
opulence and distinction； he remembered a ball given there on some
public occasion； which was to him the acme of social brilliancy and
display。 How tawdry and trivial it looked beside those later and
more solid structures！ How inconsistent were those long latticed
verandas and balconies； pathetic record of that first illusion of
the pioneers that their climate was a tropical one！ A restaurant
and billiard…saloon had aggrandized all of the lower story； but
there was still the fanlight； over which the remembered title of
〃St。 Charles；〃 in gilded letters； was now reinforced by the too
demonstrative legend； 〃Apartments and Board； by the Day or Week。〃
Was it possible that this narrow； creaking staircase had once
seemed to him the broad steps of Fame and Fortune？ On the first
landing； a preoccupied Irish servant…girl； with a mop； directed him
to a door at the end of the passage； at which he knocked。 The door
was opened by a grizzled negro servant； who was still holding a
piece of oily chamois…leather in his hand； and the contents of a
dueling…case； scattered upon a table in the centre of the room；
showed what had been his occupation。 Admitting Hathaway with great
courtesy； he said：
〃Marse Harry bin havin' his ole trubble； sah； and bin engaged just
dis momen' on his toylet； ef yo'll accommodate yo'self on de sofa；
I inform him yo' is heah。〃
As the negro passed into the next room； Paul cast a hasty glance
around the apartment。 The furniture； originally rich and elegant；
was now worn threadbare and lustreless。 A book…case； containing；
among other volumes； a few law booksthere being a vague
tradition； as Paul remembered； that Colonel Pendleton had once been
connected with the lawa few French chairs of tarnished gilt； a
rifle in the corner； a presentation sword in a mahogany case； a few
classical prints on the walls； and one or two iron deed…boxes
marked 〃El Dorado Bank；〃 were the principal objects。 A mild flavor
of dry decay and methylated spirits pervaded the apartment。 Yet it
was scrupulously clean and well kept； and a few clothes neatly
brushed and folded on a chair bore witness to the servant's care。
As Paul； however； glanced behind the sofa； he was concerned to see
a coat； which had evidently been thrust hurriedly in a corner； with
the sleeve lining inside out； and a needle and thread still
sticking in the seam。 It struck him instantly that this had been
the negro's occupation； and that the pistol…cleaning was a polite
fiction。
〃Yo' 'll have to skuse Marse Harry seein' yo in bed； but his laig's
pow'ful bad to…day； and he can't stand；〃 said the servant
reentering the room。 〃Skuse me； sah；〃 he added in a dignified
confidential whisper； half closing the door with his hand； 〃but if
yo' wouldn't mind avoidin' 'xcitin' or controversical topics in yo'
conversation； it would be de better fo' him。〃
Paul smilingly assented； and the black retainer； with even more
than the usual solemn ceremonious exaggeration of his race； ushered
him into the bedroom。 It was furnished in the same faded glory as
the sitting…room； with the exception of a low； iron camp…bedstead；
in which the tall； soldierly figure of Colonel Pendleton； clad in
threadbare silk dressing…gown； was stretched。 He had changed in
eight years： his hair had become gray； and was thinned over the
sunken temples； but his iron…gray moustache was still particularly
long and well pointed。 His face bore marks of illness and care；
there were deep lines down the angle of the nostril that spoke of
alternate savage outbreak and repression； and gave his smile a
sardonic rigidity。 His dark eyes； that shone with the exaltation
of fever； fixed Paul's on entering； and with the tyranny of an
invalid never left them。
〃Well； Hathaway？〃
With the sound of that voice Paul felt the years slip away； and he
was again a boy； looking up admiringly to the strong man； who now
lay helpless before him。 He had entered the room with a faint
sense of sympathizing superiority and a consciousness of having had
experience in controlling men。 But all this fled before Colonel
Pendleton's authoritative voice； even its broken tones carried the
old dominant spirit of the man； and Paul found himself admiring a
quality in his old acquaintance that he missed in his newer
friends。
〃I haven't seen you for eight years； Hathaway。 Come here and let
me look at you。〃
Paul approached the bedside with boyish obedience。 Pendleton took
his hand and gazed at him critically。
〃I should have recognized you； sir； for all your moustache and your
inches。 The last time I saw you was in Jack Hammersley's office。
Well； Jack's dead； and here I am； little better； I reckon。 You
remember Hammersley's house？〃
〃Yes；〃 said Paul； albeit wondering at the question。
〃Something like this； Swiss villa style。 I remember when Jack put
it up。 Well； the last time I was out； I passed there。 And what do
you think they've done to it？〃
Paul could not imagine。
〃Well； sir；〃 said the colonel gravely； 〃they've changed it into a
church missionary shop and young men's Christian reading…room！ But
that's 'progress' and 'improvement'！〃 He paused； and； slowly
withdrawing his hand from Paul's； added with grim apology； 〃You're
young； and belong to the new school； perhaps。 Well； sir； I've read
your speech； I