I w o u l d never have dreamed he was a th'ef! Our acquaintance had all been so friendly and casual. We had met at my home, chatted over dinner and talked about a hundred things in my living room. There was something quite remarkable and compelling about him. Perhaps it was his innocent baby-face with its vivid and vacant expression that most impressed me. Yes, I must admit, he really had me fooled. He turned out to be a first class kleptomaniac. But, thinking back on it, I doubt a trained detective could have sensed the deceit and constant danger that lurked about me. It all started one evening at my front door. It was a Tuesday in August 1957. “ An entertainer turned sales man,” was his smiling approach to me. But I was not one to be taken off my guard so easily. I kept prodding him about his background. “Who are you with?” I asked. It came out then he had ties with several of the largest distilleries. He also had an account with a pros perous tobacco company. “ At present,” he continued, “ I’m an agent for a leading national magazine.” So I let him come into the living room and listened to him for a couple of hours. On learning of his con nections, I took pains to tell him of my Christian faith and love for Christ. “ There is no place in my life for such things as liquor or tobacco,” I told him deliberately. “ To the Christian, the body is the temple of the Holy Spirit.” I was sure these words would bother or affront him. But no, he was totally undisturbed by my convictions. He would hold his views; I could hold mine. This status quo was to mark all our subsequent discussions. In a light-hearted moment he slipped off on a funny off-color story. I was quick to inform him such things did not go in my home. In fact, I cut him off sharply.
As you may imagine, I had reservations on the truth of many of his stories. Still, I must admit his experiences often excited me. After having an interesting time to gether I invited him to come back the following eve ning. “ Perhaps I may have a helpful influence on him,” was my naive hope. It took my wife’s words to remind me that his return visit conflicted with our church Midweek Prayer Meet ing. “ I should attend,” I confessed, “ but I must stand by the invitation I have given this friend.” I shared with her some of the things he had said to me. Well, to put it lightly, she was reluctant to accept him. “ I just don’t trust him,” she would say. She grew steadily more nerv ous as he took up more and more of our family life. In spite of her objections I was sure I could control this fellow. I felt that she just didn’t want to go the second m’ le. My entire day seemed boring in comparison with my evenings with this character. He had an imagination that was captivating and intriguing. I would sit and laugh myself sick at all the crazy experiences he would relate. “What a guy,” I thought, “ he just can’t be beat!” There were times that my hair would stand on end. His scrapes with the FBI and the law were absolutely breathtaking. If his stories were true, he was also an “ extra” in motion pictures. I certainly had to believe him. Even his glassy smile had a Hollywood hue. But he couldn’t talk about this without including sex. This forced me to cut him off time and again. Then he began to affect my teenage son, Charles, and my nine-year-old daughter, Eloise. They just couldn’t wait to catch his latest quip or some hair-raising tale. My youngest would have stayed up all hours if we had
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THE KING'S BUSINESS
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