-, j - VI?i(t
iTHE WORTH OF A MAN
By H. M. Egbert.
Charles Cpggswell, president of
half a dozen corporations and a man
to be reckoned with m Wall street,
came out of his club at half past two.
He had indulged in a hearty lunch
and was tasting again in remem
brance the excellent steak a la reine
which Georges, the chef, had provid-
Staggering Back Against the Wall.
ed. He had an appointment with his
lawyer at three, to settle the details
of the alimony which he was to allow
his wifer-vwho was about to separate
from him. He .also wanted to change
his will, cutting off his scape
grace son who preferred the
life of a composer to that of a bank
president. These things were annoy
ing, he. reflected, but then that steak
a la reine had been superb.
"Heigho!" he sighed. "When a man
gets to be forty-five his troubles mul
tiply.". And he fell to thinking how
hardly fate used him.
As he stepped into the street a
newsboy ran into him, yelling at the
top of his voice. He picked himself
up and thrust a paper under Mr.
"Suicide of a millionaire!" he yell
ed; and there, sure enough, was the
announcement, in big, black letter
ing. Mr. Coggswell bought a copy,
and the next minute was staggering
back against the wall of the club.
The suicide was that of himself.
When he had recovered a little he
read as follows:
"Mr. Charles Coggswell, president
of the United Realty and Union'cor
poration, and a well-known figure on
the Street, shot himself in the temple
at half-past one o'clock this after
noon, in a lodging house gn the Bow
ery. Although he had dressed himself
in shabby clothes and destroyed all
evidences of his identity, Mr. Coggs
well's features were too well known
for his death to remain long un
known. The body, which was iden
tified by members of his family, and
his partners and business associates,
who were hastily summoned, was re
moved at first to the morgue, but
now lies at his home, where the in
quest will be held this afternoon."
Coggswell knew the man a dou
ble of his, strikingly alike even to the
gait and gesture, who had once or
twice impudently demanded money
from him on the strength of the re
semblance, until Mr. Coggswell had
threatened to have him arrested.
Then the fellow had disappeared to
end his days-by hisown hand in the
haunts he had frequented.
The first impulse of the financier
was to hurry to his office and sum
mon the reporters in order to inform
them of their error. Then a new idea
came to him, so unexpectedly that
he flung out his arms as though to
ward off a blow.
"Suppose I were dead," he thought
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