“Perhaps you have never thought of the responsibilities of a great name.  This man, like thousands of others in the city, idealized you.  He looked up to you as the soul of honour, as a self-made man who by his own unaided efforts—­as you yourself have just pointed out—­rose from a poor boy to a position of power and trust in the community.  He saw you a prominent layman in the Church of God.  He was dazzled by the brilliancy of your success, inspired by a civilization which—­gave such opportunities.  He recognized that he himself had not the brains for such an achievement,—­his hope and love and ambition were centred in his boy.”

At the word Eldon Parr’s glance was suddenly dulled by pain.  He tightened his lips.

“That boy was then of a happy, merry disposition, so the mother says, and every summer night as she cooked supper she used to hear him laughing as he romped in the yard with his father.  When I first saw him this summer, it was two days before his father committed suicide.  The child was lying, stifled with the heat, in the back room of one of those desolate lodging houses in Dalton Street, and his little body had almost wasted away.

“While I was there the father came in, and when he saw me he was filled with fury.  He despised the Church, and St. John’s above all churches, because you were of it; because you who had given so generously to it had wrecked his life.  You had shattered his faith in humanity, his ideal.  From a normal, contented man he had deteriorated into a monomaniac whom no one would hire, a physical and mental wreck who needed care and nursing.  He said he hoped the boy would die.

“And what had happened?  The man had bought, with all the money he had in the world, Consolidated Tractions.  He had bought it solely because of his admiration for your ability, his faith in your name.  It was inconceivable to him that a man of your standing, a public benefactor, a supporter of church and charities, would permit your name to be connected with any enterprise that was not sound and just.  Thousands like Garvin lost all they had, while you are still a rich man.  It is further asserted that you sold out all your stock at a high price, with the exception of that in the leased lines, which are guaranteed heavy dividends.”

“Have you finished?” demanded Eldon Parr.

“Not quite, on this subject,” replied the rector.  “Two nights after that, the man threw himself in the river.  His body was pulled out by men on a tugboat, and his worthless stock certificate was in his pocket.  It is now in the possession of Mr. Horace Bentley.  Thanks to Mr. Bentley, the widow found a temporary home, and the child has almost recovered.”

Hodder paused.  His interest had suddenly become concentrated upon the banker’s new demeanour, and he would not have thought it within the range of possibility that a man could listen to such a revelation concerning himself without the betrayal of some feeling.  But so it was,—­Eldon Parr had been coldly attentive, save for the one scarcely perceptible tremor when the boy was mentioned.  His interrogatory gesture gave the very touch of perfection to this attitude, since it proclaimed him to have listened patiently to a charge so preposterous that a less reasonable man would have cut it short.