Francis Lynde

The Real Man Francis Lynde

It is conceivable that, in Noah's time-say, on the day before the heavens opened and thefloods descended-a complacent citizenry of Antediluvia might have sat out on its frontporches, enjoying the sunset over Mount Ararat and speculating upon the probable resultsof the next patriarchal election, all unsuspicious of chaotic cataclysms. Under similarconditions-fair skies, a good groundwork of creature comforts, and a total lack ofthreatening portents-there was no reason why the two men, smoking their after-dinnercigars on the terrace of the Lawrenceville Country Club, should suspect that the end of theworld might be lying in wait for either of them just beyond the hour's relaxation. They had been dining together-Debritt, a salesman for the Aldenguild EngravingCompany of New York and the elder of the two, as the guest, and Smith, cashier of theLawrenceville Bank and Trust, as the host. After banking hours, Smith had taken theengraving company's salesman in his runabout for a drive through the residence districtand up the river road; and business, the business of printing a new issue of stockcertificates for the local bank, had been laid aside. The return drive had paused at theCountry Club for dinner; and since Debritt's train would not leave until eight o'clock, therewas ample leisure for the tobacco burning and for the jocund salesman's appreciativeenthusiasm.