The League of Frightened Men

"And… you opened it. You probably…" He stopped and stood silent. His voice had gone thin on him, but I couldn't see that his face displayed any feeling at all, not even resentment. He continued, "In that case… I don't want it. I don't want to see it. – But that's preposterous. Of course I want it. I must have it." „ Wolfe, looking at him with half-closed eyes, motionless, said nothing. That lasted for seconds. All of a sudden Chapin demanded, suddenly hoarse:

I "Damn you, where is it?"

Wolfe wiggled a finger at him. "Mr.

Chapin. Sit down."

"No."

"Very well. You can't have the box. I intend to keep it."

Still there was no change on the cripple's face. I didn't like him, but I was admiring him. His light-colored eyes had kept straight into Wolfe's, but now they moved; he glanced aside at the chair I had placed for him, firmed his hand on the crook of his stick, and limped three steps i and sat down. He looked at Wolfe again and said:

"For twenty years I lived on pity. I don't know if you are a sensitive man, I don't know if you can guess what a diet like that would do. I despised it, but I lived on it, because a hungry man takes what he can get. Then I found something else to sustain me. I got a measure of pride in achievement, I ate bread that I earned, I threw away the stick that I needed to walk with, one that had been • given me, and bought one of my own. Mr. • Wolfe, I was done with pity. I had swallowed it to the extreme of toleration. I was sure that, whatever gestures I might be brought, foolishly or desperately, to accept from my fellow creatures, it would never again be pity." n j He stopped. Wolfe murmured, "Not sure. Not sure unless you carried death ready at hand."

"Right. I learn that today. I seem to have acquired a new and active antipathy to death."

"And as regards pity…" ‹I need it. I ask for it. I discovered an hour ago that you had got my box, and I have been considering ways and means. I can see no other way to get it than to plead with you. Force" – he smiled the smile that his eyes ignored – "is not feasible. The force of law is of course, under the circumstances, out of the question. Cunning – I have no cunning, except with words. There is no way but to call upon your pity. I do so, I plead with you. The box is mine by purchase. The contents are mine by… by sacrifice. By purchase I can say, though not with money. I ask you to give it back to me." j "Well. What plea have you to offer?"