August, 1939
T H E K I N G ’ S B U S I N E S S
S02
Illustration by Ransom D. Marvin
Somebody’s brother! O who then will dare To throw out the Life-Line, his peril to share?” , A tremor went through Madame Ne- vairre’s body. Sharp, painful memories rushed into her mind. Tender memo ries, too. Thoughts, of her childhood home and of a mother singing in the choir of the old home church—singing that same sweet song. . . “Throw out the Life-Line! Throw out the Life-Line! Someone is drifting away! Throw out the Life-Line! Throw out the Life-Line! Someone is sinking today.” Ah! but there was a break in her Life Line! In her palm and his! There was to have been an accident—tonight! She had seen it coming, had even plan ned it, desired it. But now she relaxed, terror-stricken, against his arm. The car flowed down to sixty; fifty-five; forty. Facts frightened her. O God! What had she almost done! She took a quick, convulsive breath. It would have been—murder! Suicide and mur der! She felt herself sinking in the waves, saw the Master standing on the shore throwing out the Life-Line to her. And while the quartet sang, she tried to grasp that line, to return once more to the shore of her childhood trust. That grinning skull with the incense belching upward! Death, it seemed to say. DEATH! Yes, she was sinking, sinking! If someone didn’t rescue her soon she would go down! Something seemed to be snapping in her mind, [Continued on page 314]
the church. In another moment the quartet from the Rocky Mountain Bible Institute ,would sing again. Harold Bainbridge, their announcer and first tenor, was suffering with a cold. He stood hesitant before the microphone. He was scheduled for a solo, “The Stran ger of Galilee,” the chorus of which was much too high for him tonight. Quickly he turned the pages of the song book in his hand, thinking, praying se cretly, then made a quick decision, not quite sure whether his selection were the right one, hoping it would be satis-' factory. Then with his hand and by facial expression he signaled to the oth er members of the quartet to join him at the microphone. There would be no solo tonight. “And, now, ladies and gentlemen,” he announced in his sincere, businesslike voice, “you are to hear an old favorite selection, written by Edward S. Ufford. The musical arrangement is by that prince of composers of the past genera tion, George C. Stebbins." * * * * Rich, soothing organ music rolled out of the loud speaker in Gordon Harring ton’s car. The music crashed into Ma dame Nevairre’S mind like a cry of warning, like a voice from another world. It angered her at first and sent her thoughts spinning backward along the years. IJt was like the breaking of a moving-picture reel at the climax of a horror scene. Trained voices were sing ing with tenderness and challenge. “Throw out the Life-Line across the dark wave There is a brother whom someone could save;
PART III Turning from the carnival fortune tellers tent where he had recognized in “Madame Nevairre, Palmist’' the Fon da Amundsen whom he had loved dur ing his college days, Gordon Harrington made it clear that he did not wish to remain with the bizarre Rita Martin- eau at the dance pavilion. He went alone to his father s store and in the darkness yielded his life anew to the Saviour whom he had once known inti mately. In his desire to bring Fonda to Christ, he sought her out, and Fonda insisted on reading his palm. She noted that the L ife Line in his palm was identical with her own, and she believed that an accident was in store for them both. Consumed with her love for Gordon and her jealousy of Rita, she excitedly asked him to take her for a ride in his car. Hoping—even plan ning—that the fateful “accident" would occur that very night, she demanded that he drive faster and faster down the curving highway. Gordon longed to witness of Christ to Fonda, yet was fearful of offending her. After inner conflict, he turned on the car radio to bring in a gospel program. [ Copyright, 1939, by Paul Hutchens. All rights reserved .] I T WAS now fifteen minutes past the midnight hour in the KOA stu dios. There had been a pausé for station identification, and the pipe organ was playing softly with jnany rich ca dences and crescendos, an old hymn of
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