Story One A Retrieved Reformation
A guard came to the prison shoe-shop, where Jimmy Valentine was assiduously stitching uppers, and escorted him to the front office. There the warden handed Jimmy his pardon, which had been signed that morning by the governor. Jimmy took it in a tired kind of way. He had served nearly ten months of a four year sentence. He had expected to stay only about three months, at the longest. When a man with as many friends on the outside as Jimmy Valentine had is received in the “stir1”, it is hardly worthwhile to cut his hair.
“Now, Valentine,” said the warden, “you'll go out in the morning. Brace up, and make a man of yourself. You're not a bad fellow at heart. Stop cracking safes, and live straight.”
“Me?” said Jimmy, in surprise. “Why, I never cracked a safe in my life.”
“Oh, no,” laughed the warden. “Of course not. Let's see, now. How was it you happened to get sent up on that Springfield job? Was it because you wouldn't prove an alibi2 for fear of compromising somebody in extremely high-toned society? Or was it simply a case of a mean old jury that had it in for you? It's always one or the other with you innocent victims.”
“Me?” said Jimmy, still blankly virtuous. “Why, warden, I never was in Springfield in my life!”
“Take him back, Cronin!”said the warden, “and fix him up with outgoing clothes. Unlock him at seven in the morning, and let him come to the bull-pen.3 Better think over my advice, Valentine.”
At a quarter past seven on the next morning Jimmy stood in the warden's outer office. He had on a suit of the villainously fitting, ready-made clothes and a pair of the stiff, squeaky shoes that the state furnishes to its discharged compulsory guests.
The clerk handed him a railroad ticket and the five-dollar bill with which the law expected him to rehabilitate himself into good citizenship and prosperity. The warden gave him a cigar, and shook hands. Valentine, 9762, was chronicled on the books, “Pardoned by Governor,” and Mr. James Valentine walked out into the sunshine.
Disregarding the song of the birds, the waving green trees, and the smell of the flowers, Jimmy headed straight for a restaurant. There he tasted the first sweet joys of liberty in the shape of a broiled chicken and a bottle of white wine—followed by a cigar a grade better than the one the warden had given him. From there he proceeded leisurely to the depot4. He tossed a quarter into the hat of a blind man sitting by the door, and boarded his train. Three hours set him down in a little town near the state line5. He went to the café of one Mike Dolan6 and shook hands with Mike, who was alone behind the bar.
“Sorry we couldn't make it sooner, Jimmy, my boy,” said Mike. “But we had that protest from Springfield to buck against, and the governor nearly balked. Feeling all right?”
“Fine,” said Jimmy. “Got my key?”
He got his key and went upstairs, unlocking the door of a room at the rear. Everything was just as he had left it. There on the floor was still Ben Price's collar-button that had been torn from that eminent detective's shirt-band when they had overpowered Jimmy to arrest him.
Pulling out from the wall a folding-bed, Jimmy slid back a panel in the wall and dragged out a dust-covered suit-case. He opened this and gazed fondly at the finest set of burglar's tools in the East. It was a complete set, made of specially tempered steel, the latest designs in drills, punches, braces and bits, clamps, and augers, with two or three novelties, invented by Jimmy himself, in which he took pride. Over nine hundred dollars they had cost him to have it made at—, a place where they make such things for the profession.
In half an hour Jimmy went down stairs and through the café. He was now dressed in tasteful and well-fitting clothes, and carried his dusted and cleaned suit-case in his hand.
“Got anything on?” asked Mike Dolan, genially.
“Me?” said Jimmy, in a puzzled tone. “I don't understand. I'm representing the New York Amalgamated7 Short Snap Biscuit Cracker and Frazzled Wheat Company.”
This statement delighted Mike to such an extent that he offered Jimmy a seltzer-and-milk on the spot. He never touched “hard”drinks.
A week after the release of Valentine, 9762, there was a neat job of safe-burglary done in Richmond, Indiana, with no clue to the author. A scant eight hundred dollars was all that was secured8. Two weeks after that a patented, improved, burglar-proof safe in Logansport was opened like a cheese to the tune of fifteen hundred dollars, currency; securities and silver untouched. That began to interest the rogue-catchers9. Then an old-fashioned bank-safe in Jefferson City became the next target and threw out of its crater an eruption of bank-notes amounting to five thousand dollars. The losses were now high enough to bring the matter up into Ben Price's class of work. By comparing notes, a remarkable similarity in the methods of the burglaries was noticed. Ben Price investigated the scenes of the robberies, and was heard to remark:
“That's Dandy Jim Valentine's autograph. He's resumed business. Look at that combination knob—jerked out as easy as pulling up a radish in wet weather. He's got the only clamps that can do it. And look how clean those tumblers were punched out! Jimmy never has to drill but one hole. Yes, I guess I want Mr. Valentine. He'll do his bit10 next time without any short-time or clemency foolishness.”
Ben Price knew Jimmy's habits. He had learned them while working on the Springfield case. Long jumps, quick getaways, no confederates, and a taste for good society—these ways had helped Mr. Valentine to become noted as a successful dodger of retribution. It was given out that Ben Price had taken up the trail of the elusive cracksman, and other people with burglar-proof safes felt more at ease.
One afternoon Jimmy Valentine and his suit-case climbed out of the mail-hack11 in Elmore, a little town five miles off the railroad down in the black-jack country12 of Arkansas. Jimmy, looking like an athletic young senior just home from college, went down the side-walk toward the hotel.
A young lady crossed the street, passed him at the corner and entered a door over which was the sign, “The Elmore Bank.”Jimmy Valentine looked into her eyes, forgot what he was, and became another man. She lowered her eyes and colored slightly. Young men of Jimmy's style and looks were scarce in Elmore.
Jimmy collared a boy that was loafing on the steps of the bank as if he were one of the stockholders, and began to ask him questions about the town, feeding him dimes at intervals. By and by the young lady came out, looking royally unconscious of the young man with the suit-case, and went her way.
“Isn't that young lady Polly Simpson?” asked Jimmy, with specious guile.
“Naw,” said the boy. “She's Annabel Adams. Her pa owns this bank. Why'd you come to Elmore for? Is that a gold watch-chain? I'm going to get a bulldog. Got any more dimes?”
Jimmy went to the Planters'Hotel, registered as Ralph D. Spencer, and engaged a room. He leaned on the desk and declared his platform13 to the clerk. He said he had come to Elmore to look for a location to go into business. How was the shoe business, now, in the town? He had thought of the shoe business. Was there an opening?
The clerk was impressed by the clothes and manner of Jimmy. He, himself, was something of a pattern of fashion to the thinly gilded youth of Elmore, but he now perceived his shortcomings. While trying to figure out Jimmy's manner of tying his four-in-hand14 he cordially gave information.
Yes, there ought to be a good opening in the shoe line. There wasn't an exclusive shoe-store in the place. The dry-goods and general stores handled them. Business in all lines was fairly good. Hoped Mr. Spencer would decide to locate in Elmore. He would find it a pleasant town to live in, and the people very sociable.
Mr. Spencer thought he would stop over in the town for a few days and look over the situation. No, the clerk needn't call the boy. He would carry up his suit-case, himself; it was rather heavy.
Mr. Ralph Spencer, the phoenix15 that arose from Jimmy Valentine's ashes—ashes left by the flame of a sudden attack of love—remained in Elmore, and prospered. He opened a shoe-store and secured a good run of trade.
Socially he was also a success, and made many friends. And he accomplished the wish of his heart. He met Miss Annabel Adams, and became more and more captivated by her charms.
At the end of a year the situation of Mr. Ralph Spencer was this: he had won the respect of the community, his shoe-store was flourishing, and he and Annabel were engaged to be married in two weeks. Mr. Adams, the typical, plodding, country banker, approved of Spencer. Annabel's pride in him almost equalled her affection. He was as much at home in the family of Mr. Adams and that of Annabel's married sister as if he were already a member.
One day Jimmy sat down in his room and wrote this letter, which he mailed to the safe address of one of his old friends in St. Louis:
Dear Old Pal:
I want you to be at Sullivan's place, in Little Rock, next Wednesday night, at nine o'clock. I want you to wind up some little matters for me. And, also, I want to make you a present of my kit of tools. I know you'll be glad to get them—you couldn't duplicate the lot for a thousand dollars. Say, Billy, I've quit the old business—a year ago. I've got a nice store. I'm making an honest living, and I'm going to marry the finest girl on earth two weeks from now. It's the only life, Billy—the straight one. I wouldn't touch a dollar of another man's money now for a million. After I get married I'm going to sell out and go West, where there won't be so much danger of having old scores brought up against me. I tell you, Billy, she's an angel. She believes in me; and I wouldn't do another crooked thing for the whole world. Be sure to be at Sully's, for I must see you. I'll bring along the tools with me.
Your old friend,
Jimmy.
On the Monday night after Jimmy wrote this letter, Ben Price jogged unobtrusively into Elmore in a livery buggy16. He lounged about town in his quiet way until he found out what he wanted to know. From the drug-store across the street from Spencer's shoe-store he got a good look at Ralph D. Spencer.
“Going to marry the banker's daughter are you, Jimmy?” said Ben to himself, softly. “Well, I don't know!”
The next morning Jimmy took breakfast at the Adamses. He was going to Little Rock that day to order his wedding-suit and buy something nice for Annabel. That would be the first time he had left town since he came to Elmore. It had been more than a year now since those last professional “jobs,” and he thought he could safely venture out.
After breakfast quite a family party went downtown together—Mr. Adams, Annabel, Jimmy, and Annabel's married sister with her two little girls, aged five and nine. They came by the hotel where Jimmy still boarded, and he ran up to his room and brought along his suit-case. Then they went on to the bank. There stood Jimmy's horse and buggy and Dolph Gibson, who was going to drive him over to the railroad station.
All went inside the high, carved oak railings into the banking-room—Jimmy included, for Mr. Adams's future son-in-law was welcome anywhere. The clerks were pleased to be greeted by the good-looking, agreeable young man who was going to marry Miss Annabel. Jimmy set his suit-case down. Annabel, whose heart was bubbling with happiness and lively youth, put on Jimmy's hat, and picked up the suit-case. “Wouldn't I make a nice drummer17?” said Annabel. “My! Ralph, how heavy it is! Feels like it was full of gold bricks.”
“Lot of nickel-plated shoe-horns in there,” said Jimmy, coolly, “that I'm going to return. Thought I'd save express charges by taking them up. I'm getting awfully economical.”
The Elmore Bank had just put in a new safe and vault18. Mr. Adams was very proud of it, and insisted on an inspection by every one. The vault was a small one, but it had a new, patented door. It fastened with three solid steel bolts thrown simultaneously with a single handle, and had a time-lock. Mr. Adams beamingly explained its workings to Mr. Spencer, who showed a courteous but not too intelligent interest. The two children, May and Agatha, were delighted by the shining metal and funny clock and knobs.
While they were thus engaged Ben Price sauntered in and leaned on his elbow, looking casually inside between the railings. He told the teller that he didn't want anything; he was just waiting for a man he knew.
Suddenly there was a scream or two from the women, and a commotion. Unperceived by the elders, May, the nine-year-old girl, in a spirit of play, had shut Agatha in the vault. She had then shot the bolts and turned the knob of the combination as she had seen Mr. Adams do.
The old banker sprang to the handle and tugged at it for a moment. “The door can't be opened,” he groaned. “The clock hasn't been wound nor the combination set.”
Agatha's mother screamed again, hysterically.
“Hush!”said Mr. Adams, raising his trembling hand. “All be quiet for a moment. Agatha!”he called as loudly as he could. “Listen to me.”During the following silence they could just hear the faint sound of the child wildly shrieking in the dark vault in a panic of terror.
“My precious darling!”wailed the mother. “She will die of fright! Open the door! Oh, break it open! Can't you men do something?”
“There isn't a man nearer than Little Rock who can open that door,” said Mr. Adams, in a shaky voice. “My God! Spencer, what shall we do? That child—she can't stand it long in there. There isn't enough air, and, besides, she'll go into convulsions from fright.”
Agatha's mother, frantic now, beat the door of the vault with her hands. Somebody wildly suggested dynamite. Annabel turned to Jimmy, her large eyes full of anguish, but not yet despairing. To a woman nothing seems quite impossible to the powers of the man she worships.
“Can't you do something, Ralph—try, won't you?”
He looked at her with a queer, soft smile on his lips and in his keen eyes.
“Annabel,” he said, “give me that rose you are wearing, will you?”
Hardly believing that she heard him aright, she unpinned the bud from the bosom of her dress, and placed it in his hand. Jimmy stuffed it into his vest-pocket, threw off his coat and pulled up his shirt-sleeves. With that act Ralph D. Spencer passed away and Jimmy Valentine took his place.
“Get away from the door, all of you,” he commanded, shortly.
He set his suit-case on the table, and opened it out flat19. From that time on he seemed to be unconscious of the presence of any one else. He laid out the shining, queer implements swiftly and orderly, whistling softly to himself as he always did when at work. In a deep silence and immovable, the others watched him as if under a spell.
In a minute Jimmy's pet drill was biting smoothly into the steel door. In ten minutes—breaking his own burglarious record—he threw back the bolts and opened the door.
Agatha, almost collapsed, but safe, was gathered into her mother's arms.
Jimmy Valentine put on his coat, and walked outside the railings towards the front door. As he went he thought he heard a far-away voice that he once knew call “Ralph!”But he never hesitated.
At the door a big man stood somewhat in his way.
“Hello, Ben!”said Jimmy, still with his strange smile. “Got around at last, have you? Well, let's go. I don't know that it makes much difference now.”
And then Ben Price acted rather strangely.
“Guess you're mistaken, Mr. Spencer,” he said. “Don't believe I recognize you. Your buggy's waiting for you, ain't it?”
And Ben Price turned and strolled down the street.
Notes
1．stir: n. (slang) prison
2．alibi: n. a claim or evidence one produces to show he is not present on the spot when a crime is committed.
3．bull-pen: n. a barred room in a jail, where prisoners are kept temporarily
4．depot: n. (AmE) a small station where trains or buses stop
5．state line: n. the line between states in the US
6．one Mike Dolan: meaning a person called Mike Dolan
7．Amalgamate: v. (two or more organizations) join together to form one large organization
8．secure: v. to get, esp. as the result of effort
9．the rogue-catchers: n. the police
10．do one's bit: to serve one's full time, esp. in prison
11．mail hack: n. a horse and carriage used to deliver mail to surrounding towns
12．black-jack country: places in soutneastern and southern U.S. where there grow a lot of black-bark oaks
13．platform: n. here, statement of intention
14．four-in-hand: n. a necktie
15．phoenix: n. a mythical bird that lived in the Arabian wilderness. Every 500 or 600 years it would burn itself up and rise from its ashes anew.
16．livery buggy: n. a horse and carriage for hire
17．drummer: n. a traveling salesman
18．vault: n. an enclosed place with an arched roof, thick walls and a strong door, especially in a bank, used for keeping valuable things or money safe
19．out flat: adv. at once without delay, down right
Questions for discussion
1．Where is Valentine at the beginning of the story? Why is he there? What do you learn from the conversation between him and the ward?
2．What does Valentine do after he is set free that attracts the attention of the police?
3．What causes Valentine to become another man? Do you believe that people can really change?
4．If you were Ben, what would you have done when you confronted Valentine at the end?
5．How did you think this story would end when reading it? How does the story really end? Do you think the ending of the story believable? Support your answer with reasons.
6．“Mr. Ralph Spencer, the phoenix that arose from Jimmy Valentine's ashes—ashes left by the flame of a sudden attack of love—remained in Elmore, and prospered.”What is a phoenix? In what way is Valentine like a phoenix?
About the author
O. Henry (1862—1910) was born William Sydney Porter in North Carolina. His schooling was rudimentary. After working in a drug store, he went to Texas in 1882; he became a rancher for a time, then a bank teller and journalist, founding a comic weekly magazine, The Rolling Stone (1894—1895) before being employed by the Houston Post to write a humorous daily column.
In 1896 he was indicted for alleged embezzlement by the bank for which he had worked, and spent three years in the federal penitentiary in Columbus, Ohio. It was in the prison that Porter started to write short stories under the pseudonym of O. Henry. His collections of stories were immediately popular, including The Four Million (1906), Heart of the West (1907), The Trimmed Lamp (1907), The Gentle Grafter(1908), The Voice of the City (1908), Options (1909), Roads of Destiny (1909), Whirligigs (1910) and Strictly Business (1910). Other collections were published after Porter's death of a wasting disease in 1910. O. Henry Memorial Awards were established in America to be given annually for the best magazine stories.
O. Henry wrote about 300 short stories, and was noted for unexpected and often ironic ends of his tales. His habitual use of surprise ending sets a pattern that was later followed by many short-story writers.
Commentary on the plot of this story
O. Henry is famous and well-loved mostly for the romantic and sentimental plots he constructs that correspond to people's humanitarian wishes for a better and more benevolent world. In his stories he very often depicts people of low social status who live in poverty yet try hard to make the best of their lives by helping one another or even sacrificing themselves for those they love or those poorer and weaker than themselves. To send such a message to the public, he adopts special designs and details. Our selected story above is an excellent example to demonstrate O. Henry 's skills in plot construction.
First, the burglar Jimmy Valentine is described not as a real evil person. Early in the plot, O. Henry uses a small event of Jimmy giving money to a blind man to show that he is kind at heart, which event serves in the whole construction of the plot to foreshadow his even kinder action later of saving Annabel's little niece regardless of ruining his own future. Also, careful readers would notice that O. Henry emphasizes Jimmy's professional side as a burglar in a number of places. He wants us to see Jimmy as a clever person with exceptional skills in the profession of burglary who takes pride in his skills rather than a dirty thief who is simply greedy for money. So, in the plot we see Jimmy's best set of burglary tools and his artist-like special ways of carrying on his jobs. O. Henry implies to us that even Ben Price admires Jimmy and his skills to some extent.
Second, O. Henry puts in a romantic love affair to let Jimmy fall in love for Annabel at first sight and this love is so powerful that it changes Jimmy to a new person. This design of a true love is important to the plot, for it leads to Jimmy's final noble action of saving Annabel's niece. But also it endears him to readers who always favor a handsome young man in love.
Then, there is the crisis or climax of the story. Just as the reader follows the story to see Jimmy well-settled in the small town, liked by everyone, doing good business to earn an honest living and on the point of marrying his dear girl, the critical moment comes: a terrible accident takes place to test him. Agatha gets locked in the vault and only Jimmy can save her, but in saving her he will reveal himself as a wanted criminal. After a few minutes of mental struggle, Jimmy nobly chooses to sacrifice his own happiness and save an innocent life. Here, O. Henry shows superb skill in staging the moment of the climax. But, he excels himself immediately after this by arranging one of his best unexpected endings to give his readers a pleasant surprise, a twist in the development of things, and in doing so he creates a story with an open end to leave room for readers to speculate about Jimmy's future and to dwell on the significance of life. Namely, the detective Ben Price who has been in pursuit of Jimmy says he does not know him and lets him go free. But, if we look back into the story carefully, we won't be really surprised to see a basically kind man in deep love to do such a noble thing, or to feel the ending really unexpected, because all the way through the story O' Henry has been subtly preparing us for this moment.
Nowadays, O. Henry's name is almost unseparable from the creation of the surprise ending in story telling. However, many other writers also favor this design and are no less good in the application of it. “A Rose for Miss Caroline”included in the supplementary readings of this book is another case of this skill. And O. Henry's merits go beyond just creative merits of form. Many of his stories demonstrate the kind of ideal human nature which warms our hearts and gives us courage to face a difficult life.