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A Child Of The Rain
A Difficult Problem
A Grammatical Ghost
A Memorable Night
A Mysterious Case
A Mystery With A Moral
A Spectral Collie
A Terribly Strange Bed
American Horses
An Astral Onion
An Intangible Clue
As Told By Mr Gryce
Bourgonef
From The Loom Of The Dead
His Last Bow
Hunted Down
Introduction To A Mystery With A Moral
Introduction To Melmoth The Wanderer
Melmoth The Wanderer
Missing: Page Thirteen
My Fascinating Friend
No 1 Branch Line: The Signal-man
On Being Found Out
On The Northern Ice
Problem Ix Violet's Own
Satire Of The Sea
Shall He Wed Her?
Story Of An Obstinate Corpse
Story Of The Vanishing Patient
The Adventure Of Black Peter
The Adventure Of Charles Augustus Milverton
The Adventure Of The Abbey Grange
The Adventure Of The Bruce-partington Plans
The Adventure Of The Cardboard Box
The Adventure Of The Dancing Men
The Adventure Of The Devil's Foot
The Adventure Of The Dying Detective
The Adventure Of The Empty House
The Adventure Of The Golden Pince-nez
The Adventure Of The Missing Three-quarter
The Adventure Of The Norwood Builder
The Adventure Of The Priory School
The Adventure Of The Red Circle
The Adventure Of The Six Napoleons
The Adventure Of The Solitary Cyclist
The Adventure Of The Three Students
The Adventure Of Wisteria Lodge
The Affair Of The Tortoise
The Avenger
The Birth-mark
The Black Cross
The Box With The Iron Clamps
The Bronze Hand
The Cambered Foot
The Case Of He Golden Bullet
The Case Of Mr Foggatt
The Case Of The Dixon Torpedo
The Case Of The Pocket Diary Found In The Snow
The Case Of The Pool Of Blood In The Pastor's Study
The Case Of The Registered Letter
The Closed Cabinet
The Coin Of Dionysius
The Disappearance Of Lady Frances Carfax
The Doctor His Wife And The Clock
The Dreaming Lady
The End Of The Road
The Fortune Teller
The Golden Slipper
The Gray Madam
The Great Valdez Sapphire
The Grotto Spectre
The Haunted And The Haunters Or The House And The Brain
The Hermit Of Street
The Hole In The Mahogany Panel
The House By The Loch
The House Of Clocks
The House That Was Not
The Incantation
The Jew's Breastplate
The Knight's Cross Signal Problem
The Last Adventure
The Last Exploit Of Harry The Actor
The Lenton Croft Robberies
The Loss Of Sammy Crockett
The Lost Lady
The Lost Room
The Man In The Green Hat
The Mortals In The House
The Mysterious Card
The Notch On The Ax - A Story A La Mode
The Oblong Box
The Old Stone House
The Piano Next Door
The Pumpkin Coach
The Quinton Jewel Affair
The Reward
The Room Of The Evil Thought
The Second Bullet
The Shape Of Fear
The Spread Rails
The Stanway Cameo Mystery
The Thing On The Hearth
The Torture By Hope
The Tragedy At Brookbend Cottage
The Wrong Sign
The Yellow Flower
Their Dear Little Ghost

Anna Katharine Green

A Difficult Problem
A Memorable Night
A Mysterious Case
An Intangible Clue
As Told By Mr Gryce
Missing: Page Thirteen
Problem Ix Violet's Own
Shall He Wed Her?
The Black Cross
The Bronze Hand
The Case Of He Golden Bullet
The Case Of The Pocket Diary Found In The Snow
The Case Of The Pool Of Blood In The Pastor's Study
The Case Of The Registered Letter
The Doctor His Wife And The Clock
The Dreaming Lady
The Golden Slipper
The Gray Madam
The Grotto Spectre
The Hermit Of Street
The House Of Clocks
The Old Stone House
The Second Bullet



A Memorable Night








CHAPTER I.


I am a young physician of limited practice and great ambition. At the
time of the incidents I am about to relate, my office was in a
respectable house in Twenty-fourth Street, New York City, and was
shared, greatly to my own pleasure and convenience, by a clever young
German whose acquaintance I had made in the hospital, and to whom I
had become, in the one short year in which we had practised together,
most unreasonably attached. I say unreasonably, because it was a
liking for which I could not account even to myself, as he was neither
especially prepossessing in appearance nor gifted with any too great
amiability of character. He was, however, a brilliant theorist and an
unquestionably trustworthy practitioner, and for these reasons
probably I entertained for him a profound respect, and as I have
already said a hearty and spontaneous affection.

As our specialties were the same, and as, moreover, they were of a
nature which did not call for night-work, we usually spent the evening
together. But once I failed to join him at the office, and it is of
this night I have to tell.

I had been over to Orange, for my heart was sore over the quarrel I
had had with Dora, and I was resolved to make one final effort towards
reconciliation. But alas for my hopes, she was not at home; and, what
was worse, I soon learned that she was going to sail the next morning
for Europe. This news, coming as it did without warning, affected me
seriously, for I knew if she escaped from my influence at this time, I
should certainly lose her forever; for the gentleman concerning whom
we had quarrelled, was a much better match for her than I, and almost
equally in love. However, her father, who had always been my friend,
did not look upon this same gentleman's advantages with as favorable
an eye as she did, and when he heard I was in the house, he came
hurrying into my presence, with excitement written in every line of
his fine face.

"Ah, Dick, my boy," he exclaimed joyfully, "how opportune this is! I
was wishing you would come, for, do you know, Appleby has taken
passage on board the same steamer as Dora, and if he and she cross
together, they will certainly come to an understanding, and that will
not be fair to you, or pleasing to me; and I do not care who knows
it!"

I gave him one look and sank, quite overwhelmed, into the seat nearest
me. Appleby was the name of my rival, and I quite agreed with her
father that the tete-a-tetes afforded by an ocean voyage would
surely put an end to the hopes which I had so long and secretly
cherished.

"Does she know he is going? Did she encourage him?" I stammered.

But the old man answered genially: "Oh, she knows, but I cannot say
anything positive about her having encouraged him. The fact is, Dick,
she still holds a soft place in her heart for you, and if you were
going to be of the party--"

"Well?"

"I think you would come off conqueror yet."

"Then I will be of the party," I cried. "It is only six now, and I can
be in New York by seven. That gives me five hours before midnight,
time enough in which to arrange my plans, see Richter, and make
everything ready for sailing in the morning."

"Dick, you are a trump!" exclaimed the gratified father. "You have a
spirit I like, and if Dora does not like it too, then I am mistaken in
her good sense. But can you leave your patients?"

"Just now I have but one patient who is in anything like a critical
condition," I replied, "and her case Richter understands almost as
well as I do myself. I will have to see her this evening of course and
explain, but there is time for that if I go now. The steamer sails at
nine?"

"Precisely."

"Do not tell Dora that I expect to be there; let her be surprised.
Dear girl, she is quite well, I hope?"

"Yes, very well; only going over with her aunt to do some shopping. A
poor outlook for a struggling physician, you think. Well, I don't know
about that; she is just the kind of a girl to go from one extreme to
another. If she once loves you she will not care any longer about
Paris fashions."

"She shall love me," I cried, and left him in a great hurry, to catch
the first train for Hoboken.

It seemed wild, this scheme, but I determined to pursue it. I loved
Dora too much to lose her, and if three weeks' absence would procure
me the happiness of my life, why should I hesitate to avail myself of
the proffered opportunity. I rode on air as the express I had taken
shot from station to station, and by the time I had arrived at
Christopher Street Ferry my plans were all laid and my time disposed
of till midnight.

It was therefore with no laggard step I hurried to my office, nor was
it with any ordinary feelings of impatience that I found Richter out;
for this was not his usual hour for absenting himself and I had much
to tell him and many advices to give. It was the first balk I had
received and I was fuming over it, when I saw what looked like a
package of books lying on the table before me, and though it was
addressed to my partner, I was about to take it up, when I heard my
name uttered in a tremulous tone, and turning, saw a man standing in
the doorway, who, the moment I met his eye, advanced into the room and
said:

"O doctor, I have been waiting for you an hour. Mrs. Warner has been
taken very bad, sir, and she prays that you will not delay a moment
before coming to her. It is something serious I fear, and she may have
died already, for she would have no one else but you, and it is now an
hour since I left her."

"And who are you?" I asked, for though I knew Mrs. Warner well--she is
the patient to whom I have already referred--I did not know her
messenger.

"I am a servant in the house where she was taken ill."

"Then she is not at home?"

"No, sir, she is in Second Avenue."

"I am very sorry," I began, "but I have not the time--"

But he interrupted eagerly: "There is a carriage at the door; we
thought you might not have your phaeton ready."

I had noticed the carriage.

"Very well," said I. "I will go, but first let me write a line--"

"O sir," the man broke in pleadingly, "do not wait for anything. She
is really very bad, and I heard her calling for you as I ran out of
the house."

"She had her voice then?" I ventured, somewhat distrustful of the
whole thing and yet not knowing how to refuse the man, especially as
it was absolutely necessary for me to see Mrs. Warner that night and
get her consent to my departure before I could think of making further
plans.

So, leaving word for Richter to be sure and wait for me if he came
home before I did, I signified to Mrs. Warner's messenger that I was
ready to go with him, and immediately took a seat in the carriage
which had been provided for me. The man at once jumped up on the box
beside the driver, and before I could close the carriage door we were
off, riding rapidly down Seventh Avenue.

As we went the thought came, "What if Mrs. Warner will not let me
off!" But I dismissed the fear at once, for this patient of mine is an
extremely unselfish woman, and if she were not too ill to grasp the
situation, would certainly sympathize with the strait I was in and
consent to accept Richter's services in place of my own, especially as
she knows and trusts him.

When the carriage stopped it was already dark and I could distinguish
little of the house I entered, save that it was large and old and did
not look like an establishment where a man servant would be likely to
be kept.

"Is Mrs. Warner here?" I asked of the man who was slowly getting down
from the box.

"Yes, sir," he answered quickly; and I was about to ring the bell
before me, when the door opened and a young German girl, courtesying
slightly, welcomed me in, saying:

"Mrs. Warner is up-stairs, sir; in the front room, if you please."

Not doubting her, but greatly astonished at the barren aspect of the
place I was in, I stumbled up the faintly lighted stairs before me and
entered the great front room. It was empty, but through an open door
at the other end I heard a voice saying: "He has come, madam"; and
anxious to see my patient, whose presence in this desolate house I
found it harder and harder to understand, I stepped into the room
where she presumably lay.

Alas! for my temerity in doing so; for no sooner had I crossed the
threshold than the door by which I had entered closed with a click
unlike any I had ever heard before, and when I turned to see what it
meant, another click came from the opposite side of the room, and I
perceived, with a benumbed sense of wonder, that the one person whose
somewhat shadowy figure I had encountered on entering had vanished
from the place, and that I was shut up alone in a room without visible
means of egress.

This was startling, and hard to believe at first, but after I had
tried the door by which I had entered and found it securely locked,
and then bounding to the other side of the room, tried the opposite
one with the same result, I could not but acknowledge I was caught.
What did it mean? Caught, and I was in haste, mad haste. Filling the
room with my cries, I shouted for help and a quick release, but my
efforts were naturally fruitless, and after exhausting myself in vain
I stood still and surveyed, with what equanimity was left me, the
appearance of the dreary place in which I had thus suddenly become
entrapped.


CHAPTER II.

It was a small square room, and I shall not soon forget with what a
foreboding shudder I observed that its four blank walls were literally
unbroken by a single window, for this told me that I was in no
communication with the street, and that it would be impossible for me
to summon help from the outside world. The single gas jet burning in a
fixture hanging from the ceiling was the only relief given to the eye
in the blank expanse of white wall that surrounded me; while as to
furniture, the room could boast of nothing more than an old-fashioned
black-walnut table and two chairs, the latter cushioned, but stiff in
the back and generally dilapidated in appearance. The only sign of
comfort about me was a tray that stood on the table, containing a
couple of bottles of wine and two glasses. The bottles were full and
the glasses clean, and to add to this appearance of hospitality a box
of cigars rested invitingly near, which I could not fail to perceive,
even at the first glance, were of the very best brand.

Astonished at these tokens of consideration for my welfare, and
confounded by the prospect which they offered of a lengthy stay in
this place, I gave another great shout; but to no better purpose than
before. Not a voice answered, and not a stir was heard in the house.
But there came from without the faint sound of suddenly moving wheels,
as if the carriage which I had left standing before the door had
slowly rolled away. If this were so, then was I indeed a prisoner,
while the moments so necessary to my plans, and perhaps to the
securing of my whole future happiness, were flying by like the wind.
As I realized this, and my own utter helplessness, I fell into one of
the chairs before me in a state of perfect despair. Not that any fears
for my life were disturbing me, though one in my situation might well
question if he would ever again breathe the open air from which he had
been so ingeniously lured. I did not in that first moment of utter
downheartedness so much as inquire the reason for the trick which had
been played upon me. No, my heart was full of Dora, and I was asking
myself if I were destined to lose her after all, and that through no
lack of effort on my part, but just because a party of thieves or
blackmailers had thought fit to play a game with my liberty.

It could not be; there must be some mistake about it; it was some
great joke, or I was the victim of a dream, or suffering from some
hideous nightmare. Why, only a half hour before I was in my own
office, among my own familiar belongings, and now--But, alas, it was
no delusion. Only four blank, whitewashed walls met my inquiring eyes,
and though I knocked and knocked again upon the two doors which
guarded me on either side, hollow echoes continued to be the only
answer I received.

Had the carriage then taken away the two persons I had seen in this
house, and was I indeed alone in its great emptiness? The thought made
me desperate, but notwithstanding this I was resolved to continue my
efforts, for I might be mistaken; there might yet be some being left
who would yield to my entreaties if they were backed by something
substantial.

Taking out my watch, I laid it on the table; it was just a quarter to
eight. Then I emptied my trousers pockets of whatever money they held,
and when all was heaped up before me, I could count but twelve
dollars, which, together with my studs and a seal ring which I wore,
seemed a paltry pittance with which to barter for the liberty of which
I had been robbed. But it was all I had with me, and I was willing to
part with it at once if only some one would unlock the door and let me
go. But how to make known my wishes even if there was any one to
listen to them? I had already called in vain, and there was no
bell--yes, there was; why had I not seen it before? There was a bell
and I sprang to ring it. But just as my hand fell on the cord, I heard
a gentle voice behind my back saying in good English, but with a
strong foreign accent:

"Put up your money, Mr. Atwater; we do not want your money, only your
society. Allow me to beg you to replace both watch and money."

Wheeling about in my double surprise at the presence of this intruder
and his unexpected acquaintance with my name, I encountered the
smiling glance of a middle-aged man of genteel appearance and
courteous manners. He was bowing almost to the ground, and was, as I
instantly detected, of German birth and education, a gentleman, and
not the blackleg I had every reason to expect to see.

"You have made a slight mistake," he was saying; "it is your society,
only your society, that we want."

Astonished at his appearance, and exceedingly irritated by his words,
I stepped back as he offered me my watch, and bluntly cried:

"If it is my society only that you want, you have certainly taken very
strange means to procure it. A thief could have set no neater trap,
and if it is money you want, state your sum and let me go, for my time
is valuable and my society likely to be unpleasant."

He gave a shrug with his shoulders that in no wise interfered with his
set smile.

"You choose to be facetious," he observed. "I have already remarked
that we have no use for your money. Will you sit down? Here is some
excellent wine, and if this brand of cigars does not suit you, I will
send for another."

"Send for the devil!" I cried, greatly exasperated. "What do you mean
by keeping me in this place against my will? Open that door and let me
out, or--"

I was ready to spring and he saw it. Smiling more atrociously than
ever, he slipped behind the table, and before I could reach him, had
quietly drawn a pistol, which he cocked before my eyes.

"You are excited," he remarked, with a suavity that nearly drove me
mad. "Now excitement is no aid to good company, and I am determined
that none but good company shall be in this room to-night. So if you
will be kind enough to calm yourself, Mr. Atwater, you and I may yet
enjoy ourselves, but if not--" the action he made was significant, and
I felt the cold sweat break out on my forehead through all the heat of
my indignation.

But I did not mean to show him that he had intimidated me.

"Excuse me," said I, "and put down your pistol. Though you are making
me lose irredeemable time, I will try and control myself enough to
give you an opportunity for explaining yourself. Why have you
entrapped me into this place?"

"I have already told you," said he, gently laying the pistol before
him, but within easy reach of his hand.

"But that is preposterous," I began, fast losing my self-control
again. "You do not know me, and if you did--"

"Pardon me, you see I know your name."

Yes, that was true, and the fact set me thinking. How did he know my
name? I did not know him, nor did I know this house, or any reason for
which I could have been beguiled into it. Was I the victim of a
conspiracy, or was the man mad? Looking at him very earnestly, I
declared:

"My name is Atwater, and so far you are right, but in learning that
much about me you must also have learned that I am neither rich nor
influential, nor of any special value to a blackmailer. Why choose me
out then for--your society? Why not choose some one who can--talk?"

"I find your conversation very interesting."

Baffled, exasperated almost beyond the power to restrain myself, I
shook my fist in his face, notwithstanding I saw his hand fly to his
pistol.

"Let me go!" I shrieked. "Let me go out of this place. I have
business, I tell you, important business which means everything to me,
and which, if I do not attend to it to-night, will be lost to me for
ever. Let me go, and I will so far reward you that I will speak to no
one of what has taken place here to-night, but go my ways, forgetful
of you, forgetful of this house, forgetful of all connected with it."

"You are very good," was his quiet reply, "but this wine has to be
drunk." And he calmly poured out a glass, while I drew back in
despair. "You do not drink wine?" he queried, holding up the glass he
had filled between himself and the light. "It is a pity, for it is of
most rare vintage. But perhaps you smoke?"

Sick and disgusted, I found a chair, and sat down in it. If the man
were crazy, there was certainly method in his madness. Besides, he
had not a crazy eye; there was calm calculation in it and not a little
good-nature. Did he simply want to detain me, and if so, did he have a
motive it would pay me to fathom before I exerted myself further to
insure my release? Answering the wave he made me with his hand by
reaching out for the bottle and filling myself a glass, I forced
myself to speak more affably as I remarked:

"If the wine must be drunk, we had better be about it, as you cannot
mean to detain me more than an hour, whatever reason you may have for
wishing my society."

He looked at me inquiringly before answering, then tossing off his
glass, he remarked:

"I am sorry, but in an hour a man can scarcely make the acquaintance
of another man's exterior."

"Then you mean--"

"To know you thoroughly, if you will be so good; I may never have the
opportunity again."

He must be mad; nothing else but mania could account for such words
and such actions; and yet, if mad, why was he allowed to enter my
presence? The man who brought me here, the woman who received me at
the door, had not been mad.

"And I must stay here--" I began.

"Till I am quite satisfied. I am afraid that will take till morning."

I gave a cry of despair, and then in my utter desperation spoke up to
him as I would to a man of feeling:

"You don't know what you are doing; you don't know what I shall suffer
by any such cruel detention. This night is not like other nights to
me. This is a special night in my life, and I need it, I need it, I
tell you, to spend as I will. The woman I love"--it seemed horrible to
speak of her in this place, but I was wild at my helplessness, and
madly hoped I might awake some answering chord in a breast which could
not be void of all feeling or he would not have that benevolent look
in his eye--"the woman I love," I repeated, "sails for Europe
to-morrow. We have quarrelled, but she still cares for me, and if I
can sail on the same steamer, we will yet make up and be happy."

"At what time does this steamer start?"

"At nine in the morning."

"Well, you shall leave this house at eight. If you go directly to the
steamer you will be in time."

"But--but," I panted, "I have made no arrangements. I shall have to go
to my lodgings, write letters, get money. I ought to be there at this
moment. Have you no mercy on a man who never did you wrong, and only
asks to quit you and forget the precious hour you have made him lose?"

"I am sorry," he said, "it is certainly quite unfortunate, but the
door will not be opened before eight. There is really no one in the
house to unlock it."

"And do you mean to say," I cried aghast, "that you could not open
that door if you would, that you are locked in here as well as I, and
that I must remain here till morning, no matter how I feel or you
feel?"

"Will you not take a cigar?" he asked.

Then I began to see how useless it was to struggle, and visions of
Dora leaning on the steamer rail with that serpent whispering soft
entreaties in her ear came rushing before me, till I could have wept
in my jealous chagrin.

"It is cruel, base, devilish," I began. "If you had the excuse of
wanting money, and took this method of wringing my all from me, I
could have patience, but to entrap and keep me here for nothing, when
my whole future happiness is trembling in the balance, is the work of
a fiend and--" I made a sudden pause, for a strange idea had struck
me.


CHAPTER III.

What if this man, these men and this woman, were in league with him
whose rivalry I feared, and whom I had intended to supplant on the
morrow. It was a wild surmise, but was it any wilder than to believe I
was held here for a mere whim, a freak, a joke, as this bowing,
smiling man before me would have me believe?

Rising in fresh excitement, I struck my hand on the table. "You want
to keep me from going on the steamer," I cried. "That other wretch who
loves her has paid you--"

But that other wretch could not know that I was meditating any such
unusual scheme, as following him without a full day's warning. I
thought of this even before I had finished my sentence, and did not
need the blank astonishment in the face of the man before me to
convince me that I had given utterance to a foolish accusation. "It
would have been some sort of a motive for your actions," I humbly
added, as I sank back from my hostile attitude; "now you have none."

I thought he bestowed upon me a look of quiet pity, but if so he soon
hid it with his uplifted glass.

"Forget the girl," said he; "I know of a dozen just as pretty."

I was too indignant to answer.

"Women are the bane of life," he now sententiously exclaimed. "They
are ever intruding themselves between a man and his comfort, as for
instance just now between yourself and this good wine."

I caught up the bottle in sheer desperation.

"Don't talk of them," I cried, "and I will try and drink. I almost
wish there was poison in the glass. My death here might bring
punishment upon you."

He shook his head, totally unmoved by my passion.

"We deal punishment, not receive it. It would not worry me in the
least to leave you lying here upon the floor."

I did not believe this, but I did not stop to weigh the question
then; I was too much struck by a word he had used.

"Deal punishment?" I repeated. "Are you punishing me? Is that why I am
here?"

He laughed and held out his glass to mine.

"You enjoy being sarcastic," he observed. "Well, it gives a spice to
conversation, I own. Talk is apt to be dull without it."

For reply I struck the glass from his hand; it fell and shivered, and
he looked for the moment really distressed.

"I had rather you had struck me," he remarked, "for I have an answer
for an injury like that; but for a broken glass--" He sighed and
looked dolefully at the pieces on the floor.

Mortified and somewhat ashamed, I put down my own glass.

"You should not have exasperated me," I cried, and walked away beyond
temptation, to the other side of the room.

His spirits had received a dampener, but in a few minutes he seized
upon a cigar and began smoking; as the wreaths curled over his head he
began to talk, and this time it was on subjects totally foreign to
myself and even to himself. It was good talk; that I recognized,
though I hardly listened to what he said. I was asking myself what
time it had now got to be, and what was the meaning of my
incarceration, till my brain became weary and I could scarcely
distinguish the topic he discussed. But he kept on for all my seeming,
and indeed real, indifference, kept on hour after hour in a monologue
he endeavored to make interesting, and which probably would have been
so if the time and occasion had been fit for my enjoying it. As it
was, I had no ear for his choicest phrases, his subtlest criticisms,
or his most philosophic disquisitions. I was wrapped up in self and my
cruel disappointment, and when in a certain access of frenzy I leaped
to my feet and took a look at the watch still lying on the table, and
saw it was four o'clock in the morning, I gave a bound of final
despair, and throwing myself on the floor, gave myself up to the heavy
sleep that mercifully came to relieve me.

I was roused by feeling a touch on my breast. Clapping my hand to the
spot where I had felt the intruding hand, I discovered that my watch
had been returned to my pocket. Drawing it out I first looked at it
and then cast my eyes quickly about the room. There was no one with
me, and the doors stood open between me and the hall. It was eight
o'clock, as my watch had just told me.

That I rushed from the house and took the shortest road to the
steamer, goes without saying. I could not cross the ocean with Dora,
but I might yet see her and tell her how near I came to giving her my
company on that long voyage which now would only serve to further the
ends of my rival. But when, after torturing delays on cars and
ferry-boats, and incredible efforts to pierce a throng that was
equally determined not to be pierced, I at last reached the wharf, it
was to behold her, just as I had fancied in my wildest moments,
leaning on a rail of the ship and listening, while she abstractedly
waved her hand to some friends below, to the words of the man who had
never looked so handsome to me or so odious as at this moment of his
unconscious triumph. Her father was near her, and from his eager
attitude and rapidly wandering gaze I saw that he was watching for me.
At last he spied me struggling aboard, and immediately his face
lighted up in a way which made me wish he had not thought it necessary
to wait for my anticipated meeting with his daughter.

"Ah, Dick, you are late," he began, effusively, as I put foot on deck.

But I waved him back and went at once to Dora.

"Forgive me, pardon me," I incoherently said, as her sweet eyes rose
in startled pleasure to mine. "I would have brought you flowers, but I
meant to sail with you, Dora, I tried to--but wretches, villains,
prevented it and--and--"

"Oh, it does not matter," she said, and then blushed, probably because
the words sounded unkind, "I mean--"

But she could not say what she meant, for just then the bell rang for
all visitors to leave, and her father came forward, evidently thinking
all was right between us, smiled benignantly in her face, gave her a
kiss and me a wink and disappeared in the crowd that was now rapidly
going ashore.

I felt that I must follow, but I gave her one look and one squeeze of
the hand, and then as I saw her glances wander to his face, I groaned
in spirit, stammered some words of choking sorrow and was gone, before
her embarrassment would let her speak words, which I knew would only
add to my grief and make this hasty parting unendurable.

The look of amazement and chagrin with which her father met my
reappearance on the dock can easily be imagined.

"Why, Dick," he exclaimed, "aren't you going after all? I thought I
could rely on you. Where's your pluck, lad? Scared off by a frown? I
wouldn't have believed it, Dick. What if she does frown to-day; she
will smile to-morrow."

I shook my head; I could not tell him just then that it was not
through any lack of pluck on my part that I had failed him.

When I left the dock I went straight to a restaurant, for I was faint
as well as miserable. But my cup of coffee choked me and the rolls and
eggs were more than I could face. Rising impatiently, I went out. Was
any one more wretched than I that morning and could any one nourish a
more bitter grievance? As I strode towards my lodgings I chewed the
cud of my disappointment till my wrongs loomed up like mountains and
I was seized by a spirit of revenge. Should I let such an interference
as I had received go unpunished? No, if the wretch who had detained me
was not used to punishment he should receive a specimen of it now and
from a man who was no longer a prisoner, and who once aroused did not
easily forego his purposes. Turning aside from my former destination,
I went immediately to a police-station and when I had entered my
complaint was astonished to see that all the officials had grouped
about me and were listening to my words with the most startled
interest.

"Was the man who came for you a German?" one asked.

I said "Yes."

"And the man who stood guardian over you and entertained you with wine
and cigars, was not he a German too?"

I nodded acquiescence and they at once began to whisper together; then
one of them advanced to me and said:

"You have not been home, I understand; you had better come."

Astonished by his manner I endeavored to inquire what he meant, but he
drew me away, and not till we were within a stone's throw of my office
did he say, "You must prepare yourself for a shock. The impertinences
you suffered from last night were unpleasant no doubt, but if you had
been allowed to return home, you might not now be deploring them in
comparative peace and safety."

"What do you mean?"

"That your partner was not as fortunate as yourself. Look up at the
house; what do you see there?"

A crowd was what I saw first, but he made me look higher, and then I
perceived that the windows of my room, of our room, were shattered and
blackened and that part of the casement of one had been blown out.

"A fire!" I shrieked. "Poor Richter was smoking--"

"No, he was not smoking. He had no time for a smoke. An infernal
machine burst in that room last night and your friend was its wretched
victim."

I never knew why my friend's life was made a sacrifice to the revenge
of his fellow-countrymen. Though we had been intimate in the year we
had been together, he had never talked to me of his country and I had
never seen him in company with one of his own nation. But that he was
the victim of some political revenge was apparent, for though it
proved impossible to find the man who had detained me, the house was
found and ransacked, and amongst other secret things was discovered
the model of the machine which had been introduced into our room, and
which had proved so fatal to the man it was addressed to. Why men who
were so relentless in their purposes towards him should have taken
such pains to keep me from sharing his fate, is one of those anomalies
in human nature which now and then awake our astonishment. If I had
not lost Dora through my detention at their hands I should look back
upon that evening with sensations of thankfulness. As it is, I
sometimes question if it would not have been better if they had let me
take my chances.

* * * * *

Have I lost Dora? From a letter I received to-day I begin to think
not.





Next: The Black Cross

Previous: The Old Stone House



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