.
 
 SIX CENT SAM.
 
 SIX CENT SAM S 
 
 DY 
 
 JULIAN HAWTHORNE 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 
 JOHN HENDERSON GARNSEY 
 
 ST. PAUL 
 
 THE PRicE-McGiLL COMPANY 
 
 455-473 CEDAR STREET.
 
 COPYRIGHTED 1893 
 
 BY 
 
 THE PRICE-McGILL CO. 
 
 PK1NTED AND PLATED 13 X 
 
 THE PRICE-McGUvL COMPANY 
 
 BT. PAUL, MINN.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PACK. 
 
 Mr. Dunton s Invention, - --.... 9 
 
 Greaves Disappearance, - - . 27 
 
 Raxworthy s Treasure, - --..__ 5] 
 
 The John North Mastery, ------ 79 
 
 A Model Murder, - - - - - - . . -103 
 
 The Symposium, ------.__ 126 
 
 The Author s Stor} , -----.-_ 138 
 
 The Virtuoso s Story, -----._ 14g 
 
 The Electrical Engineer s Story, - - ... 159 
 The Captain s Story, ----... 195 
 
 The Unseen Man s Story, - - - . . -218 
 The Swarthy Man s Story, ---... 254 
 The Irishman s Story, --..... 288 
 
 My Own Story, ........ 3^7 
 
 2072159
 
 SIX CENT SAM S. 
 
 MR. DUNTON S INVENTION. 
 
 ROSSING Broadway, oppo 
 site the post office, I jumped 
 to get out of the way of a 
 galloping wagon-horse, and 
 collided violentl\ r with the 
 shoulder of a big man in 
 dingy gray clothes, who 
 was striding tip town. He 
 turned upon me with a sort 
 of large, slow indignation, 
 and the next moment we were laughing and shak 
 ing hands. It was Charley North am. He looked 
 bigger, paler, and more impenetrable than ever. 
 Northam is alwaj-s hiding something, or has some 
 thing in reserve ; not that anything in his circum 
 stances makes reserve necessary, but he loves mys 
 tery for its own sake, and enjoys luring you on to
 
 10 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 investigate. His small gray eyes contemplate you 
 with a smile of repressed superior information. 
 His speech and bearing, outwardly courteous and 
 even deferential, are imvardly satiric. He cultivates 
 a subtle vein of mockery, and has a stock of c\-nical 
 phrases, which he repeats a propos dcs bottcs. 
 His general purpose is to be impressive to com 
 mand attention and to be waited for. In other 
 \vords, Big Northam is always posing. 
 
 Big though his bodily manifestation is, he is so 
 cunning and agile of mind that you must be quick 
 indeed to put your hand on him. Brains he has in 
 abundance, but there is an odd bias in him; he 
 affects queer company, and meets with outlandish 
 adventures. Sometimes it pleases him to play the 
 anarchist, and he will attend Herr Most s meet 
 ings and shout and shoulder about and declaim on 
 the abolition of wealth and the religion of human 
 ity. At other times he is an art critic and connois 
 seur, with books and pictures of inestimable rarity 
 to show you. Again, you will find him immersed 
 in the peaceful avocations of commerce, or, drop 
 ping in, by way of an experience, at the Bowery 
 Theatre, you will behold a stout, pale man fiddling 
 away industriously in the orchestra, or, it may be 
 declaiming from the stage. But it would take
 
 MR. DUNTON S INVENTION. 11 
 
 long to paint the full-length portrait of Charley 
 Northam, and we have other business in hand just 
 now. 
 
 After shaking hands he tucked my arm under his 
 own, his big fat elbow pressing against my ribs, 
 and drew me along with him. 
 
 "Have you er satisfied the cravings of the 
 inner man? " asked he, in his quasi-jocose vein. It 
 \vas between twelve and one o clock, and New 
 York was plunging to and from lunch. 
 
 "I was just thinking of it. Let us go to Marco s. 
 There s a quiet table there, and first-class Bur 
 gundy at a dollar a bottle." But Northam smiled 
 in a superior way and shook his head. 
 
 "No; w r e shall be sure to meet Bloomerlthere, 
 and you know how many kinds of an ass he is. 
 Come with me. I will show you something. I ll 
 introduce you and stand your sponsor. Do you 
 know have you been initiated at Sam s ? " 
 
 11 Sam s?" 
 
 "I thought so. And yet, I suppose, you profess 
 to know your New York. Why, my dear friend, 
 Sam s is the place in town. It is the Mecca of 
 interest and adventure. Sam and I are old pals. 
 Why, this will be the biggest kind of a treat for
 
 12 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 you. For character, human nature, plots, you 
 don t need to go outside of Sam s. Six Cent Sam s 
 is a world." 
 
 "It doesn t sound expensive, anyhow. Where 
 is it?" 
 
 "Place yourself under my guidance. Ten minutes 
 on the L and we are there. I am delighted to be 
 the means of bringing Sam and you together. It 
 may have results." 
 
 "What is Sam ? A man, or a place ? " 
 
 "Both, emphatically both. The place is as 
 famous in its way as Delmonico s. For that mat 
 ter, Del s is vulgar, compared with it vulgar, sir. 
 Del s entertains the Upper Ten, and makes them 
 pay through the nose for it. Sam entertains the 
 world and it pays them." 
 
 "A good deal of a crowd there, is there? " 
 
 "By no means. No, not the world as to num 
 bers, but as to quality. He brings together the 
 heights and the depths, affluence and penury, the 
 patrician and the plebeian." 
 
 "All for six cents?" 
 
 "All for six cents," echoed Northam, with his 
 patronizing smile. "Of course, that s more or less 
 figurative. You pay six cents to get in. Unless 
 Sam likes your looks, though, you don t get in at
 
 MR. DUNTON S INVENTION. 13 
 
 any price. Your six cents entitles you to certain 
 privileges a seat at a table, bread and butter, 
 soup, coffee, or milk a meal for a king. But you 
 may command what more your purse will buy. 
 You are subject to certain rules, as to drunken 
 ness, noise, and so forth. Sam is an autocrat a 
 despot the only absolute one I have ever known. 
 But he is always beneficent. He is a man and a 
 mystery." 
 
 In pronouncing these words, Northam lowered 
 and deepened his voice, and glanced at me porten 
 tously. 
 
 "A mystery, is it? What sort of a mystery 
 can" 
 
 The train was approaching Bleeker street, and 
 Northam, laying his huge hand lightly on my 
 arm, murmured : 
 
 "We are here." 
 When we were in the street, I repeated : 
 
 W T hat mystery 
 
 "Ah, a mystery as is a mystery," he rejoined. 
 "Thoroughly shrunk, clear wove, a yard \vide, 
 none other in the market. To begin \vith, you are 
 to know that nobody knows who Sam is. Sam is 
 his name, and no one knows any other name of 
 him. None knows who or whence he is. There
 
 14 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 are some who will tell } r ouheis a prince in disguise ; 
 others have it that he is our coming dictator. He 
 is everything, and he is nothing nothing but Six 
 Cent Sam. Call him, if you will, a mixture of 
 Saint Paul and the devil. I can tell you no more. 
 You must judge for yourself. We turn to the left. 
 Here we are. Keep hold of my arm." 
 
 I had not been noticing just where we were 
 going. When we entered Six Cent Sam s door I 
 could not have said what street or avenue it was 
 on. We stepped into an enclosed porch, which was 
 glazed as to its upper portion, and had an aper 
 ture therein for the reception of coin. Looking 
 through the glass panel, I met the glance of an eye 
 quick, masterful and penetrating which held 
 mine for a moment, and then the lid of the aper 
 ture slid back with a click. "Put your fare in," 
 said Northam. "It s against the rules for me to 
 pay for you. Everyone on his own bottom, or not 
 at all, here. A cent and a nickel all right. 
 Enter." 
 
 The door slid on its grooves, and we went in. 
 There was nothing at first sight remarkable in the 
 look of the interior. The man with the masterful 
 eyes stood or sat in a box close to the door, and, 
 by means of a spring, worked the money aperture
 
 MR. DUNTON S INVENTION. 15 
 
 and the door itself. The room beyond was forty 
 feet long, with a passageway down the center 
 between two rows of stalls, each containing a 
 table and benches. The guests were screened from 
 one another, but, by an arrangement of mirrors, it 
 was possible for the proprietor from his place to 
 see the interior of every box, and knew what was 
 going on in it. There were two or three quiet, 
 elderly waiters, and the place wore a sober, 
 respectable aspect. 
 
 "My friend, here," said Northam, presenting me 
 to the proprietor, is one of the right sort, and will 
 be an acquisition. Anything going on ? " 
 
 "You might try the third box this way," replied 
 Sam, in a deep, muffled voice. "You know 
 Dunton ? You are welcome here," he added to me. 
 "You will soon catch our style. Hope to see you 
 often." 
 
 I bowed, and the audience was over. But I felt 
 that in those few moments my host s eyes had 
 een further into me than most eyes do. Northam 
 drew me along, and we approached the entrance 
 to box three. 
 
 "One word," said Northam, suddenly facing me 
 with half shut eyes, and resting his hand on my 
 shoulder. "It s a rule here that any guest may
 
 16 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 offer to treat another, but if the offer is accepted 
 the guest is bound to entertain his host \vith a true 
 story of his adventures. Am I understood ? Very 
 good. Now, this Dunton is an inventor. He has 
 met with a rather odd misfortune, and a few 
 weeks ago he laid his case before Sam. You heard 
 what Sam said just now ? " 
 
 "Is this a private detective agency, or what?" 
 I demanded. 
 
 "I told you just now that Sam is a mystery. I 
 say no more at present. Let us open negotiations 
 with Mr. Dunton. This way." 
 
 We entered the box, where a thin, middle-aged 
 man sat sipping a bowl of soup, into which he had 
 crumbled some bread. He looked up at Northam 
 with a courteous gesture. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Dunton," said the latter. 
 "Know my friend, here. He is one of us. Now, 
 let me enlarge your order by, say, a juicy sirloin 
 and a bottle of Beaune. And how comes on the 
 great case? " 
 
 " You are very kind ; be seated, gentlemen," said 
 Dunton. "But I should say," he added, "that 
 there is nothing new as yet in my matter." 
 
 "Nothing new to you and me, perhaps, but all 
 new to our friend here. Refresh his thirsty ears
 
 MR. DUNTON S INVENTION. 
 
 17 
 
 with your narrative. The steak and fixings will 
 be here immediately." 
 
 Mr. Dunton gave me a momentary, intent 
 glance. His fine, sensitive 
 face showed more intellect 
 than will, and there was in 
 his eyes an abstracted ex 
 pression indicating an emo 
 tional nature. There were 
 marks of grief and disap 
 pointment on his counte 
 nance, yet an occasional uplifting of the brows 
 indicated a man not altogether beaten. 
 
 "I think I may speak before you," he said, after 
 a little hesitation. "Are you, perhaps, interested 
 in the advance of electrical science, and such 
 things?" 
 
 "I am more interested than informed. I am a 
 good listener." 
 
 "Most astonishing business I ever heard of," 
 remarked Northam, "if that s any significance, 
 he added, sniffing through his nose, and nodding 
 his head ominously. 
 
 " All we inventors are trying to get at what lies 
 behind electricity," said Dunton. "Electricity is a 
 result of a precedent state, and it seems probable 
 
 2
 
 18 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 that this precedent state is itself the Supreme 
 Force in nature the direct material analogue of 
 the Creator." 
 
 He had an agreeable, highly-modulated voice, 
 and his earnestness bred attention. There is a 
 touch of the poet in every true inventor. 
 
 "Now, sir," he continued, "I am one of those 
 cursed \vith a yearning to penetrate into the 
 inmost shrine of the Temple of Isis, and I am com 
 paratively indifferent to the allurements of the 
 outer courts. All that the divine hand has made 
 is good, but I am drawn to the secret spring of 
 waters, and heed not the rainbows and thunders 
 of the cataract. For is it not from the small and 
 silent that all things truly great proceed ? " 
 
 Northam shook his head humorously. "The 
 larger the bottle, the greater the inspiration," 
 quoth he. "And, in good time, I spy our inspira 
 tion coming toward us, with the steak hard upon 
 its heels. Don t mind me, Dunton ; 3-011 know my 
 way. I am a barbarian, but I appreciate." 
 
 Dunton smiled faintly, and went on, addressing 
 himself more particularly to me. Meanwhile 
 Northam tested the temperature of the Burgundy 
 and filled our glasses.
 
 MR. DUNTON S INVENTION. 19 
 
 * I need n t give the details of my conception," 
 said Dunton; "they are technical, and what you 
 want, I take it, are the drama and the passion of 
 the story. And that brings me to say that at the 
 time I finished formulating my great idea, I entered 
 into bonds of betrothal with a young girl, the 
 daughter of a physician in the town where I lived. 
 I cannot speak of my feeling for her. Recall your 
 own deepest experience, and it may help you to 
 understand me. Nor can I tell you of her beauty. 
 She absorbed me ; I could not see her as I saw 
 other women. I was too near her for that. How 
 old a man do you think me, sir? " 
 
 Surprised at the abruptness of the question, I 
 I looked at him and answered, "About forty," 
 though he really looked older than that. 
 
 "I am twenty-eight," he said. " Three years 
 ago, I was twenty years younger. It has all come 
 upon me through her." 
 
 "Didn t I say it was astonishing?" put in 
 Northam, with the air of a proprietor. "Here, try 
 this bit of steak ; it won t stop your ears, nor his 
 tongue, either." 
 
 "I don t say she didn t care for me," went on 
 Dunton, whose thin blood the generous wine had 
 warmed. "I have thought it out a hundred times.
 
 20 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 I believe she did not know what was intended 
 till it was too late. But you shall judge for your 
 self. Her father had some knowledge of science ; 
 he was older than I, as old as I look now, a man 
 of the world, and a fascinating man. I had no 
 concealments from him. I discussed my invention 
 with him constantly, she sitting by, watching and 
 listening. He comprehended the greatness of the 
 idea, and the stupendous results that would follow 
 it. He flattered me and encouraged me. Perhaps 
 even he intended no treachery then. Evil as well 
 as gtood comes to men, they know not how. The 
 seed finds its proper soil. It flowers in a night, 
 and the sinner or the saint stands revealed to him 
 self and others. 
 
 "I was troubled with a nervous affection and the 
 doctor was treating me. He was a man of 
 advanced notions, and had studied the methods of 
 the French school, which is attempting to employ 
 hypnotism as a curative agent. My disease failed 
 to react to the customary treatment, and he finally 
 asked me to let him try the effect of hypnosis. I 
 was a good subject, but at first I was a little shy 
 about submitting myself to the trance ; one does 
 not like to surrender his will, even to a friend. 
 However, I finally consented.
 
 MR. DUNTON S INVENTION. 21 
 
 "To the surprise of both of us, he failed. It may 
 have been due to the lack of some temperamental 
 sympathy between us ; at all events the only effect 
 upon me was a rather unpleasant excitement. He 
 was visibly annoyed. I am still convinced you 
 are an excellent subject, said he. I m not the 
 right operator for you, that s all. It s a pity, for 
 I m sure it would benefit you. 
 
 " Then the girl came and stood over me, and put 
 her hand on my head. You are tired out, she 
 said. Go to sleep and forget about it. Sleep, my 
 love, sleep. 
 
 "A cool, soothing influence flowed along my 
 nerves from her touch. I felt composed and 
 refreshed at once. I closed my eyes while she 
 continued to pass her soft fingers over my hair. 
 I felt that I was falling asleep, but it was like 
 no sleep that I had kno\vn before. It was like 
 the parting of soul and body in a happy death. 
 Her spirit seemed to accompany mine on its happy 
 journey. We left the earth behind us ; and I knew 
 no more. 
 
 "When I came to myself I was lying on a sofa in 
 an inner room. The doctor sat beside me. She 
 "vv as gone. That was a lucky chance, he said. 
 * You responded to her influence immediately. You
 
 22 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 are better already. Yon will owe your cure to 
 her. Strange we shouldn t have discovered her 
 power before now. Perhaps love has something 
 to do with it. 
 
 "I certainly felt better than for many months, 
 The treatment was continued from day to da}-. I 
 had no reluctance in yielding to her gentle power. 
 
 "I should have told you that my invention was 
 delayed by reason of a process a problem that I 
 could not solve. It had seemed a trifling thing at 
 first, but the more I investigated it, the more vital 
 did it turn out to be. It was the hinge on which 
 the whole matter opened ; in other words, it was 
 the secret that science has been seeking from the 
 beginning. I had penetrated further than the 
 others, but I was still outside the shrine, and the 
 door that was closed against me seemed the most 
 impregnable of all." 
 
 "Now listen to him just listen to him," mut 
 tered Northam. "I say nothing not a word; but 
 just you listen to him, that s all," and he refilled 
 our glasses. 
 
 "One evening," continued Dunton, with flushed 
 cheeks and sparkling eyes, "we had been talking 
 about the nature of the effect of hypnosis upon the 
 brain. The theory commonly accepted is, as you
 
 MR. UUNTON S INVENTION. 23 
 
 know, that it is in the nature of an inhibition of 
 the cortical centers a shutting-off of certain fac 
 ulties, notably that of self-determination, thereby 
 placing the subject under the control of the opera 
 tor. But this theory fails to account for certain 
 observed phenomena in trances ; there seems to be, 
 if not actual initiative on the subject s part, at 
 least something strongly resembling independent 
 mental movement. And the doctor espoused an 
 hypothesis yet more advanced. 
 
 "He recalled cases in which the subject had 
 shown mental powers in a trance superior to those 
 possessed in the normal state, and he drew a novel 
 conclusion from this fact. Hypnotism, he said, 
 instead of shutting up or crippling the mind, lib 
 erates and expands it. Take a great orator, for 
 example : when he is surging for ward on the waves 
 of eloquence, carrying all hearts \vith him, when he 
 loses consciousness of himself in the grandeur of his 
 theme, is not he self-hypnotized ? The speech over, 
 he cannot recall what he said;, he has touched a 
 height be} r ond the reach of art has spoken words 
 he never could have spoken in cold blood, of design 
 aforethought. Contrast with him the man who 
 rises for the first time in his life to make an after- 
 dinner speech. Self-consciousness paralyzes him;
 
 24 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 his own voice is strange in his ears; his thoughts 
 refuse to flow ; he is bound hand and foot by that 
 metaphysical Ego which is the tyrant and curse of 
 humanity. Pie is in his normal state, and that 
 and not the condition we call hypnosis is truly 
 the state of inhibition. Or look at the poet who 
 has written an immortal poem. He tells you that 
 the verse was found not made; it came tohim he 
 did not consciously compose it. When he found it, 
 he had forgotten himself; and when he returned 
 to himself he marvelled at what he had done. I 
 tell you, genius itself is the faculty of self-hypnoti- 
 zation, and not only that, but I am convinced that 
 hypnotism may produce the effects of genius in 
 those who, in the normal state, are commonplace. 
 A man may slumber all his lifetime, and aw r ake 
 only in the free world of trance. 
 
 " That is not a theory to flatter one s vanity, 
 I ans\vered him, but you may be right. I wash 
 that through the trance I might get insight to 
 solve my problem. 
 
 "He laughed and our talk ended. The hour for 
 my daily treatment had come. She entered, and 
 in a few moments my soul was elsewhere. How 
 long I remained unconscious I have never known. I 
 awoke in my own house, and alone. I was unable
 
 MR. DUNTON S INVENTION. 25 
 
 to recall what had happened ; some command of 
 oblivion seemed to have been laid upon me. I 
 could not even recall the face or the name of the 
 woman I loved, or of the doctor. For a time I 
 was separated from that region of my life, and 
 could not find my way back to it. I suffered from 
 a vague distress and anxiety which I could not 
 explain to myself. For a week this blank ness con 
 tinued, and then, all at once, memory returned. 
 I went immediately to the doctor s house, but the 
 blinds were closed and no one answered the bell. 
 On inquiry, I learned that the doctor and his 
 daughter had left town several days before. 
 
 "I will cut my story short," added Dunton, 
 emptying his \vine glass. " What my heart endured 
 vou can imagine. I could find no trace of them, 
 nor could I understand the reason of their disap 
 pearance. But one day a friend told me that an 
 invention similar to mine had just been patented 
 at Washington. I was not long in getting to 
 the patent office. There I was shown the model 
 and specifications. The invention was my own 
 in every detail, but the problem that had defeated 
 me was solved. For a time, I was bewildered; 
 but at length the truth dawned on me. While I 
 was in the trance, they had led my mind to my
 
 2C> 
 
 six CKXT SAM S. 
 
 invention, and I had been drawn on to solve the 
 problem. The doctor had thereupon appropriated 
 it, and fled. Had he been alone, I would have 
 pursued him to the bitter end ; but it was she who 
 had wrought the evil. I loved her; I love her 
 still; and I have done nothing." 
 
 "Didn t I say it was astonish 
 ing?" murmured Northarru 
 "Waiter, bring the other bottle." 
 At this juncture Six Cent Sam 
 appeared, with a lady. 
 
 She was young, fair, very 
 pale, and dressed in black. 
 
 "Dunton," said Sam, "this 
 lady wants to speak to you." 
 Dunton looked up in sur 
 prise; then passed his hand 
 over his forehead, and cried : 
 
 "Helen!" 
 
 "He is dead," she said, in a low, husky voice.. 
 "I have come to give you back your own. But,, 
 oh, Edward, I did not know what he meant to do. 
 Can 3^ou forgive me ? " 
 
 "Let s leave the young folks alone, gentlemen," 
 said Sam to Northam and me; "they have other 
 problems to solve besides the one you ve just been> 
 hearing about."
 
 WE \vere four in the club smoking room that 
 October afternoon. The weather was gusty and 
 inclement, and we were out of sorts. Perhaps our 
 having been up till t\vo or three o clock the 
 night before may have had something to do w r ith 
 our gloomy sensations. Twelve hours had elapsed 
 since we had left the card table, and permitted 
 yawning Thomas to go to bed. We had dispersed 
 to our various abiding places, slept till noon, and 
 drifted back to the club and breakfast. Hardly 
 anyone besides ourselves was in the house. It 
 was intolerably dull. What is one to do in town 
 at three o clock of a rainy October afternoon, after 
 being up all night ? 
 
 27
 
 28 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 Allardice, the man-about-town par excellence, 
 lay languid and relaxed in his easy-chair, his legs 
 outstretched, his chin on his breast, and a black 
 Mexican cigar between his teeth. His prominent 
 gray eyes were half closed, some cigar ashes lay 
 unheeded 011 his vest, and the light from the win 
 dow was reflected dimly on the bald summit of his 
 cranium. Tinling, the poet and dramatic critic, 
 reclined on the divan, his gray, abundant hair con 
 trasting oddly with his smooth pink-and-white face; 
 the hand with the big seal ring on it lay romantic 
 ally and conspicuously on his heart. Gawtrey sat 
 with his elbows on his knees, and his face between 
 his hands, the small eyes in his big fat countenance 
 blinking stupidly at the fire. He and Tinling had 
 been wrangling about the merits or demerits of the 
 new Persian dancer who had been attracting the 
 town for some days past, and who was being 
 advertised, free and other wise, to a degree unex 
 ampled. Tinling had declared that she was "the 
 peer I do not say of Ellsler or Taglioni, but of 
 Salome, the daughter of Herodias." Gawtrey had 
 replied that he had never seen the Herodias girl, or 
 the other two, either; but that he could find 
 women in any ordinary music hall, here or in Lon 
 don, who could knock the stuffing out of Mile.
 
 GREAVES DISAPPEARANCE. 29 
 
 Saki. Thereupon fell a silence, finally broken by 
 Allardice. 
 
 "If no one else will, I suppose I must," said he, 
 
 leaning forward and touching the electric bell in 
 
 the panel. "Think of what it s to be, gentlemen." 
 
 We sighed and changed the position of our legs. 
 
 " There should be a by-law specifying the correct 
 drink for each hour of the day," said someone. 
 "Up to eleven p. M., at any rate, it s too fatiguing 
 to choose for one s self." 
 
 "You might always order the same drink, you 
 know, like Greaves," suggested Gawtrey. "Grand 
 Yin Sec is his tipple, and he never touches any 
 other." 
 
 "Gawtrey has no discrimination," murmured 
 Tinling. "Greaves has a hundred thousand a 
 year, youth, health and happiness." 
 
 "No rose without the thorn," said Allardice. 
 " He s going to get married." 
 
 "That s a pretty cheap article of cynicism, even 
 before dinner," rejoined Tinling. "In the first 
 place, the girl comes of one of our best families. 
 Baddely was a name famous in the old country 
 centuries ago, and always respected. Secondly, 
 Miss Baddely is a mighty fine girl, both in looks
 
 30 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 and otherwise ; and fifthly and sixthly, and to con 
 clude, Greaves is dead in love with her." 
 
 "The Baddely, is it? " grunted Gawtrey. "Why, 
 they don t amount to a row of pins ! Met the old 
 boy downtown. Ain t worth a hundred thou 
 sand." 
 
 "The greater her good sense, to look with favor 
 on Greaves suit," was contributed by Allardice. 
 
 Tinling closed his eyes. "You weary me," he 
 said. "She s the most independent girl I know. 
 If anything could make her jilt Greaves, it would 
 be precisely his income. If Greaves were poor, 
 she d support him. She thinks women ought to 
 support themselves, anyw r ay." 
 
 "What can she do for a living?" someone 
 inquired. 
 
 "What couldn t she? Anything, from keeping 
 a dancing school to running an American railroad 
 system. She s got genius." 
 
 " That s the reason Greaves didn t join us last 
 night," remarked Gawtrey. "When a fellow gets 
 gone on a girl, he may as well resign from his 
 clubs. But I wish he d given me my revenge first. 
 Never saw anything like the hands that fellow held 
 last time. Two flushes and a four-ace were some 
 of em."
 
 GREAVES DISAPPEARANCE. 31 
 
 "What is yours, sir? " inquired the pale but ever 
 respectful Thomas, appearing at this juncture. 
 Whereupon we all wearily began to try to think of 
 something. 
 
 In the midst of our deliberations, in came Fred 
 Guise, looking quite pale and haggard. He nod 
 ded to us without speaking, and dropped into a 
 chair. 
 
 "Just in time," said Allardice, "and you look as 
 if you needed it. Ask Mr. Guise what he ll have, 
 Thomas." 
 
 "Absinthe cocktail," said Guise, -without falter 
 ing. "I m knocked out. Haven t seen the color 
 of a bed since night before last. None of you chaps 
 have heard anything new about him, of course? " 
 
 "Guess not. About whom?" 
 
 "Greaves, of course. Did you think I meant the 
 Shah of Persia? " inquired Guise, with a fine irony. 
 
 "All we know about Greaves here is, that he 
 promised to be here last night and didn t mate 
 rialize," said Gawtrey, with a yawn. "He owes 
 me my revenge 
 
 "Do you mean to say you chaps have n t heard?" 
 interrupted Guise, sitting up and speaking slowly, 
 as if astonishment weighted his utterance. " Why 
 it s nearlv a dav old ! "
 
 32 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 "Is its father known?" asked Allardice, lan 
 guidly. 
 
 ".What s the matter, Fred? " demanded Tinling, 
 struck by something peculiar in Guise s manner. 
 "We ve only just got up, you know, and you re 
 the first man that s come in since 
 
 "Why, good God, the man s disappeared," 
 exclaimed Guise, always in his characteristic low 
 but distinct voice. "He vanished like the blowing 
 out of a candle ! He was with me one moment, 
 and the next, he was well, he was gone ! " 
 
 "I say," grunted Gawtrey, "draw it mild. 
 What are you giving us ? " 
 
 "What are the circumstances? How disap 
 peared? When? Where?" put in Titiling, erect 
 ing himself, and shaking back his long gray hair. 
 
 "Why, I supposed the report would have got 
 here the first thing. It s the most inexplicable 
 thing I ever came across. Let me see to begin at 
 the beginning, I d breajkfasted with him in the fore 
 noon yesterday at his rooms. He \vas quite jolly 
 rather more so than usual, I thought. I took it 
 for natural high spirits going to be married soon, 
 and all that sort of thing, you know. But I ve 
 thought since it may have been excitement 
 from some other cause, you know. He talked a bit
 
 GREAVES DISAPPEARANCE. 33 
 
 about his private affairs, we re pretty intimate, 
 you know, but nothing was said in particular 
 that I remember. We talked of the Ingledew s 
 ball, and that escapade of Mrs. Revell s, you know, 
 and that Mile. Saki, the Persian dancer, whom 
 he did n t seem to think much of, by the by, and 
 of the gold-find in Alaska; he said he thought 
 that looked promising, and that he might like to 
 take some stock in that ; and then 
 
 "For pity s sake, do tell us the story first, and 
 we can join you in your comments afterward," 
 someone exclaimed. "Get to the point, can t 
 you?" 
 
 "I was only trying to recall anything that might 
 possibly throw some light on the thing, you 
 know," rejoined Fred, unhurriedly. "I can t make 
 out any motive for it myself. Everything was all 
 right about him property, health, love affair 
 well, everything. And it s inconceivable to me 
 that he could have planned anything beforehand 
 to make away with himself, or am^thing of that 
 sort; but then it s even more inconceivable he 
 should have vanished involuntarily, don t you 
 know. I can t make it out," and here Fred 
 accepted the absinthe cocktail that Thomas silently 
 
 3
 
 34 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 extended to him, and emptied it with deliberate 
 circumspection. 
 
 Allardice elevated one eyebrow, and hunted in 
 his pocket for a cigar. " Take your time, my dear 
 boy," said he. "We ve got the afternoon before 
 us, and we re none of us curious. Won t you take 
 another absinthe before you continue? " 
 
 Guise leaned back in his chair, seemed to consult 
 his memory, and finally went on: 
 
 "Well, after breakfast, you know, we lay about 
 for a while, looking over his books and pictures, 
 and talking philosophy and art. Toward three or 
 four o clock just about this time, you know, we 
 agreed to go out for a little stroll. It looked as if 
 it might rain, and Greaves put on a light gray 
 Mackintosh overcoat, that he d just had over from 
 London, rather a peculiar looking thing it was, 
 by the by, and a soft felt hat, and out we went. 
 We turned into Broadw T ay, and walked on the west 
 side up past the hotels toward Thirty-Fourth 
 street. There were comparatively few people out. 
 I remember we passed a long file of those sand 
 wich men, you know, with Persian turbans on, 
 and boards with Saki s portrait on them. She s 
 at the Fifth Avenue, you know. Just as we reached 
 the corner of Twenty-Eighth street, we came
 
 GREAVES DISAPPEARANCE. 
 
 35 
 
 across a bit of an excitement. There was a man 
 
 running down the middle of the street, with his hat 
 
 in his hand, and making 
 
 good time; and about a 
 
 dozen yards behind him 
 
 -were a couple of bobbies. / 
 
 Greaves and I stopped 
 
 on the corner, to see what 
 
 (I 
 would happen. Greaves f-\ 
 
 ,) 
 said he was a fool to run $ 
 
 in that direction, because / 
 he could never get across 
 Broadway. The bobbies 
 thought so, too, I fancy, 
 and it threw them off 
 their guard. Almost at 
 the entrance of the street 
 the chap turned like a flash, and dashed straight 
 at them. Before they knew where they were he 
 had tripped them both and sent them sprawling, 
 and was flying up the street. Half way along the 
 "block there s an empty house, going to be torn 
 down. The basement door was open and he went 
 through it, and that was the last ever seen of him, 
 I fancy. I turned round to Greaves, who had 
 spoken to me, you know, just the instant before,
 
 36 SIX CENT SAM S. 
 
 and saw him across the other side of Broadway, 
 walking on toward Thirtieth. There he was, you 
 know, in his gray mackintosh and soft felt hat. I 
 hurried to catch up with him, and took his arm. I 
 said, He was no fool, after all, that chap. I fancy 
 he must have played on a football team. 
 
 "That s what I said, and then Greaves pulled 
 away his arm and turned round on me, and you may 
 imagine I was surprised when I found it wasn t 
 Greaves at all, nor anyone a bit like him. It was 
 a fellow of fifty, with a stubble of gray beard a 
 week old, a red potato nose, and one eye gone. I 
 beg your pardon, young fellow, he said to me, I 
 guess you ve made a mistake. 
 
 "Well, you know, at first I didn t think so much 
 of it; I d been misled by the similarity of dress, 
 that was all. Greaves must be somewhere, of 
 course, and close at hand, too; it was hardly 
 thirty seconds since he d spoken to me, and there 
 were only three directions in which he could have 
 gon^ up Broadway, or down or up the side street 
 toward Fifth avenue. If he had gone down the 
 street toward Sixth avenue I should have seen him, 
 for that was the direction I d been looking. But the 
 Broad way sidewalks in both directions were nearly 
 empty, the crowd having run down Twenty-
 
 GREAVES DISAPPEARANCE. 37 
 
 -Eighth after the fellow and the bobbies. There 
 was nobody going toward Fifth avenue either, and 
 he couldn t have got away more than a dozen 
 rods, anyhow. I should have recognized him at 
 any distance in that gray Mackintosh. It was 
 true, he might have gone into some shop, so I 
 looked into all of them up and down the blocks, 
 but it was no use. Unless he d dropped through a 
 manhole in the pavement, there was nowhere he 
 could have gone ; but he was gone just the same. 
 There never was a disappearance on the stage 
 managed quicker or neater, or half so inexplicable. 
 I began to feel mighty queer about it something 
 as if I d seen a ghost. Here was an effect without 
 a cause. I assure you it was as unpleasant a 
 shock as ever I had in my life." 
 
 We all stared at one another. At last Gawtrey 
 said: 
 
 "See here, Fred, make a clean breast of it; how 
 many bottles of the Grand Yin Sec did you polish 
 off at the breakfast?" 
 
 "I m entirely serious, gentlemen, "returned Fred, 
 gravely ; " and recollect, even if Greaves could have 
 eluded me in any ordinary way, he would still have 
 been heard from somewhere by this time. But he s 
 given no sign. Whether he went voluntarily or
 
 38 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 not, he s vanished, and I m afraid when news does- 
 come it will not be the sort of news we shall like to 
 hear." 
 
 Gawtrey now poured his pony of brandy into a 
 tumbler, added a dash of water, swallowed the 
 mixture, looked in the bottom of the glass for 
 inspiration, and said, "I do n t believe, for my part, 
 that Greaves has been kidnapped in broad da\ r - 
 light in the center of New York ; and on the other 
 hand, I don t believe in miracles this year, any 
 way. What he did, depend upon it, was just to 
 step quietly out of sight somewhere, when you 
 were n t looking. Probably he saw Miss Baddely 
 on a horse car, and boarded it to join her." 
 
 "There s something in that idea," said 
 A Hard ice. 
 
 Guise shook his head. "There wasn t, as it 
 happens, a single "car passing, for there was a 
 block across both tracks at Twenty-Fifth street. 
 And as for Miss Baddely, I afterward ascertained 
 that she was at home at the time. No, gentlemen ; 
 ordinary explanations won t work. Last evening, 
 I went down and had a talk with Inspector 
 Byrnes, and he has put two of his best men on the 
 case. But they had found out nothing when I 
 looked in at Headquarters just now.
 
 GREAVES DISAPPEARANCE. 39 
 
 "You called 011 Miss Baddely, did you? How 
 does she take it? " inquired Tinling. 
 
 " I saw her father; she was not to be seen. Of 
 course they are all upset. I told him all I ve told 
 you. He said one thing the old man did that 
 struck me as a bit odd ; he said that both his 
 daughter and Greaves were persons of arbitrary 
 will and extraordinary whims. They were capa 
 ble of almost anything. If one of them did a crazy 
 thing, the other would be apt to do something to 
 cap it. He said he had no control over either of 
 em, and never had had. But he said this last 
 business did surprise him. I thought that was 
 queer language to use on such an occasion. It 
 might mean that he suspected something." 
 
 "A quarrel, for instance, and desperation on 
 Greaves part." 
 
 "A wager of some kind, maybe." 
 
 "I never did think much of that fellow Baddely. 
 He s a poor sort of an old dude. Where does he 
 get his pocket money from ? He never made a cent 
 in his life. Shouldn t wonder if his daughter sup- 
 . ported him somehow. Takes in sewing on the 
 quiet, or paints fans, or gives music lessons. Rum 
 things go on in some of these old families." It was 
 Gawtrey who made these observations.
 
 40 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 "Upon the whole," said another of the party, 
 "it looks to me as if Greaves kidnapper must 
 have been Greaves himself. But how he arranged 
 it the circumstances being what they were I 
 can t figure out. My impression is, Guise should 
 have followed up that fellow in the gray Mackin 
 tosh." 
 
 "I agree with the last honorable member," said 
 Tinling. "Such a coincidence as that similarity of 
 costume is too remarkable not to be suspicious. 
 Looks like a plot of some sort. But there s noth 
 ing to throw any light on his motive." 
 
 "Let s have another drink," said Gawtrey. 
 "What are we going to do this evening." 
 
 "I am going to the Fifth Avenue to see Saki," 
 said Allardice. "Your talk about her has aroused 
 my curiosity. I saw some oriental dancers at the 
 Paris Exhibition a while ago, and I d like to see 
 how she compares with them." 
 
 The evening papers had just been brought in, 
 and I had picked up one of them. A paragraph 
 headed "Illness of the Persian Dancer" caught my 
 eye. 
 
 "She won t appear this evening," said I. "It 
 says : Mile. Saki was so unfortunate as to sprain 
 her ankle yesterda\- while alighting from her
 
 GREAVES DISAPPEARANCE. 41 
 
 carriage. While the injury is not regarded as 
 serious, it will prevent her from dancing this even 
 ing. Tickets purchased in advance will be accepted 
 for later dates." 
 
 "Nothing in the paper about Greaves?" asked 
 Tiiiling. 
 
 "Seems not." 
 
 Soon after we broke up, and drifted away in 
 various directions, somewhat preoccupied with 
 speculations about Greaves. 
 
 The next morning, however, the papers were full 
 of the story, and though no light was thrown 
 upon the manner of Greaves disappearance, 
 certain facts of interest were mentioned. On the 
 very day before his disappearance, it appears, he 
 had executed a deed con veying the bulk of his large 
 property to Sophie Baddery. This deed was not a 
 will, but a deed of gift simply. Its provisions went 
 into effect immediately, and, in view of what had 
 occurred, one could not help suspecting that 
 Greaves had prepared it as part of a predeter 
 mined scheme of action, whether of suicide or 
 something else. And here there was a coincidence 
 that drew my attention. The "indisposition" of 
 Mile. Saki corresponded very nearly with the dis 
 appearance of Greaves. She had not returned to
 
 42 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 the theater since the evening of that occurrence, 
 and it was now stated that her absence might be 
 prolonged for a week. I knew from Guise, the 
 most intimate friend that Greaves had, that the 
 latter had been several times to see Saki dance, 
 and that he had betrayed rather marked interest 
 in her performance. Mr. Baddely had said that 
 his intending son-in-law was capable of strange 
 escapades ; was it possible, then, that he and the 
 too-fascinating Persian had eloped together, he 
 having first salved his conscience by bestowing his 
 wealth upon the woman he was abandoning? 
 Moreover, Tinling having made inquiries at the 
 theater, brought news that there was now no 
 prospect of Saki s returning at all; on the con 
 trary, her agent had paid a heavy forfeit, and she 
 had departed none knew whither. The sprained 
 ankle was obviously a fiction. Of course, the 
 manner in which Greaves had effected his exit was 
 no less than ever a mystery. A conceivable motive 
 had been suggested, that was all. 
 
 The establishment known as Six Cent Sam s 
 extends clear through the narrow block in which 
 it stands, and has an entrance in the street on the
 
 GREAVES DISAPPEARANCE. 43 
 
 other side, a fact not generally known. For the 
 rear face of the eatirrg house is a pawnship, kept, 
 as the sign board indicates, "by one Samuel Jona 
 than, who is, in fact, no other than Six Geat Sam 
 himself; and to the initiated there is a passageway 
 leading out of the pawnshop into the eating house. 
 I am of the initiated; and as I was passing down 
 this passage on the day after the scene at the club, 
 I met Sam, or Mr. Jonathan, and he said: 
 
 "Turn back, sir; I ve something to say to you." 
 I followed him into the office of the pawn 
 shop, where we sat down. 
 
 "One way or another," began Sam, "I hear a 
 good deal of what s going on. Pawnshops and 
 eating houses bring news. Now, there s young 
 Greaves, for instance." 
 
 I became interested at once. Sam is always 
 interesting. 
 
 "When last seen," continued the latter, "had on 
 gray mackintosh and soft hat. Could you iden 
 tify them? Look at these," and from a shelf he 
 drew out just such an English-made garment as 
 Guise had described to us, with the hat to match. 
 
 "He s been here, then? " I asked. 
 
 Sam shook his head, and went on in his terse, 
 deep-toned way. "A fellow came here yesterday
 
 44 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 with a carbuncle on his nose, and a game eye. 
 Had these duds under his arm ; wanted to sell 
 em. How did he come by em ? Gent had given 
 em to him. How and why? Oh, quite a } r arn. 
 Gent met him on street doing sandwich act for 
 Fifth Avenue Theatre. Pursuant to bargain then 
 and there made, and instructions given, met him 
 again next day, same place. Another gent along. 
 Disturbance on street ; other man s attention dis 
 tracted; garments exchanged inside ten seconds. 
 Gent, in sandwiches, marches down street after 
 other sandwiches ; no one ever thinks of looking 
 at face of sandwich, only the announcement on 
 board. Thus gent became invisible, and has so 
 remained." 
 
 So this was the simple but ingenious solution of 
 the puzzle. 
 
 "And where is Greaves now, and what did he do 
 it for? "I asked. 
 
 Sam looked me straight in the face with his pow 
 erful eyes. 
 
 "Where s Saki? " he replied. 
 
 "So they re together after all?" said I, rather 
 vain of my insight. 
 
 " Guess not ; but the\- ought to be."
 
 GREAVES DISAPPEARANCE. 45 
 
 That was a queer thing to say, and I stared at 
 Sam without answering. 
 
 "Newspapers say he gave a pot of money to 
 Miss Baddely," resumed the latter. " Proud, ind f e- 
 pendent girl, father poor. She w r ill be beholden to 
 nobody, not even Greaves. Wanted to support 
 herself. Greaves objects ; quarrel. Now, if Greaves 
 were to make away w r ith himself, after deeding 
 property to her, she would naturally give up her 
 scheme of earning her own living. Do you see 
 how the cat is going to jump ? " 
 
 "You think Greaves has committed suicide? " 
 
 Sam gave me a reproachful glance. " Was n t I 
 asking to bring him and Saki together ? Do you 
 know either of the ladies ? " 
 
 "Either of them?" 
 
 "Well, do you know Saki?" said Sam, a trifle 
 impatiently. 
 
 "No, I don t." 
 
 "Nor Miss Baddely?" 
 
 "I haven t that pleasure." 
 
 "I ll introduce you to both of them. We ll go 
 now. Great friends ; alw ays together." 
 
 Who ? Miss Baddely and Saki ? 
 
 "The same." 
 
 "W T hat are we to do there? "
 
 46 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 "I want em to settle which of em s to marry 
 Greaves." 
 
 "Is Greaves in love with both of them? * 
 
 "That s his fix, precisely." 
 
 " And they with him ? " 
 
 "That s what I m figuring on." 
 
 "And you expect them to agree \vhich of 
 them 
 
 "We have to hurry," remarked Sam, rising. 
 "Let me get into a clean shirt, and we re off." He 
 stepped into a side room as he spoke, and shut the 
 door. 
 
 I did not know what to make of it, but I knew 
 enough of Sam to know that he, who knew every 
 thing and everybody, from a pawn-shop habitue 
 to a wealthy club man, was not acting in the 
 dark. In a few minutes he reappeared, in the garb 
 of a well-to-do man-about-town. Silk hat, prince 
 albert coat, striped trousers, white scarf, yellow 
 gloves, and silver-headed umbrella. Not a finer 
 gentleman in the city. 
 
 "We ll look up Mlle.Saki first," he said, as we 
 sallied forth together. "Do you speak Persian 
 fluently? Never mind, she speaks as good English 
 .as you or I do, and is a very intelligent woman." 
 
 To us, awaiting her in a tasteful but simple sit-
 
 GREAYE S DISAPPEARANCE. 
 
 47 
 
 ting room tip-town, entered the famous Persian 
 dancer. She was a handsome brunette, with 
 superb black eyes and hair. Her figure and bear 
 ing were all grace and elegance. She was plainly 
 dressed, and looked, as Sam had said, very intelli 
 gent. 
 
 "Now, Mademoiselle," said Sam, after the greet 
 ings were over, "I have called as your manager, to 
 learn what you want to do. You may speak freely 
 before this gentleman." 
 
 "Tell me first what has become of him? "she 
 replied, in a slightly tremulous voice. "I cannever 
 forgive myself. Is he 
 
 "He is a pig-headed donkey, if you must have 
 
 my opinion, 
 as well as such 
 Now, 
 him, or 
 
 returned Sam. "And he s 
 a monster deserves to be. 
 shall we temporize with 
 shall we keep on our 
 course and let him go 
 to Sam s finger 
 at this juncture was 
 pointing down 
 ward. 
 
 "Temporize with 
 him? I ll go down 
 on my knees to him if he will but give me the
 
 48 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 chance. He was right from the beginning, and I 
 was wrong. I saw that almost from the first long 
 before this terrible thing happened. But for my 
 miserable obstinacy, I d have given it up then. I had 
 no conception what the life was till I had tried it. 
 It was an awful lesson. I shall never forget it. I 
 feel as if I had actually clone all the bad things 
 every one seemed to suspect me of. And yet, when 
 I was looking forward to it, it all appeared good 
 and right. I thought I would elevate and ennoble 
 my art. But the world is hard." 
 
 "Well, it is unless we take it the right way," 
 said Sam. " The best way to find out is to make 
 experiments. I helped you to do that, and you re 
 the better for it, because you now know what you 
 would never have believed if it had been told \ T OU. 
 Some girls go through life believing all they are 
 told, good or bad, but you re not that sort. You 
 can do other things just as clever as dancing, and 
 not so open to remarks. For one thing, you can 
 make a man happy, and bring up his children." 
 
 Mile. Saki blushed, and tears stood in her eyes. 
 
 "It s too late to think of that now," she said. 
 "He must dispise me and hate me; he couldn t 
 help it."
 
 GREAVES DISAPPEARANCE. 49 
 
 "Pooh! besides, there are other men in the 
 world as good as he, and a great deal better." 
 
 "You know that is not so," exclaimed Mile. 
 Saki, with a naive indignation that was enchant 
 ing. " I should like to see him again, though, just 
 once," she added, "to tell him how sorry and 
 ashamed I am, and to ask his forgiveness." 
 
 "I guess it would be more politic for you to for 
 give him," said Sam, with a smile. "However, 
 we ll see what can be done," and thereupon we 
 
 took our leave. 
 
 * * * 
 
 It was a mysterious affair altogether, and has 
 never been cleared up to this day. As everybody 
 knows, Greaves is married, but he married Miss 
 Sophie Baddely. Mile. Saki was never again heard 
 of. It is the impression among the general public 
 that she returned to Paris. Be that as it may, 
 I saw Mrs. Greaves driving out in the park the 
 other day with her husband, and remarked that 
 the lady bore a striking resemblance to the Persian 
 dancer. Guise and Tinling, however, have never 
 spoken of any likeness. No doubt, she must have 
 looked very different in her Persian costume from 
 what she did in the plain American dress that she 
 wore when I saw her.
 
 RAXWORTHY S TREASURE. 
 
 HIS story, as I now have 
 reason to believe, began with 
 an unconsidered interview 
 between my friend Six Cent Sam 
 and a meager elderly lady in a 
 black gown. The interview 
 took place in a compartment 
 of the pawnshop annex. I was 
 passing through the passage 
 on my way to the eating room, 
 and supposed that the elderly female of whom I 
 caught a glimpse was negotiating an ordinary 
 loan. In the light of some things that have 
 occurred since, I am now inclined to think other 
 wise. In the eating room, I found Raxworthy 
 lunching on bean soup and bread ; and I sat down 
 at the same table with him. To those who know 
 Raxworthy, I need not say that I did not expect 
 him to put my account on his check. For the 
 information of other persons I will give some 
 account of who Raxworthy was. 
 
 51
 
 52 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 He was (and is) the son of an English artist, the 
 descendant of a family of English gentlemen. The 
 first emigrant to America was this Raxworthy s. 
 father. He came hither in his early manhood, and 
 made money out of real estate which he had inad 
 vertently bought. He died rich, and his son got 
 all the property. There is in England, not far 
 from London, a venerable town called Isle worth, 
 and in the pages of its history those who will may 
 read the history of old Jasper Rax worthy, "The 
 Miser of Isleworth." Our man is not only the 
 great-grandson of Jasper, but he inherits his idio 
 syncrasy. He is a miser, and quite as picturesque 
 and irrational as him of tradition. He thus 
 affords unfailing entertainment to his friends. 
 
 He is about thirty years old, thin, pale, tall, and 
 with no hair to speak of. His hands are long, 
 bloodless, and knotty at the finger-joints. In dis 
 position he is exceedingly amiable, laughing read 
 ily in a thin, high cackle, while hundreds of fine 
 wrinkles spring up around his eyes and mouth. 
 His conversation is as amiable and also as thin 
 as his laugh, and is largely devoted to accounts, 
 of things he has done which he thinks devilish 
 clever, but which, to impartial minds, have more or 
 less of the ludicrous.
 
 RAXVVOKTHY S TREASURE. 53 
 
 For example : he was once engaged to marry a 
 young woman, for no better reason, as I believe, 
 than that he thought her an economical house 
 keeper. She was poor, and he bought her a gown 
 to be married in not a regular wedding dress, 
 but a useful costume, that \vould be available for 
 general purposes for years to come. At or about 
 this juncture, the lady wrote to break off the 
 engagement. Raxworthy accepted the mitten 
 philosophically, but demanded of his lost love that 
 she return the gown. She did return it, and he 
 has kept it ever since, not as a memento of a 
 buried romance, but as a convenient thing to have 
 on hand in case he should want to make another 
 attempt to enter the hymeneal state. Dollars to 
 cents that if he ever does marry, his wife will be 
 selected primarily on the basis of her fitness for 
 the gown. 
 
 Raxworthy also inherits artistic tastes, and is a 
 diligent collector of works of art and virtu of all 
 kinds. The price he paid for each is affixed to it, 
 and he discourses on the profit at which he could 
 sell it again. But the most remarkable of his 
 hoards is that which consists wholly of gold and 
 jewels ; gold coins of all ages, gold nuggets, gold 
 ornaments of historic as well as intrinsic value,
 
 54 SIX CENT SAM S 
 
 pieces of gold plate in short, gold in every shape- 
 Then there are precious stones, in settings, sepa 
 rate, and in the rough, including many antiques, 
 the whole making a pile big enough to fill a steel- 
 bound strong box, two feet wide by eighteen inches 
 long and one foot deep. This treasure must be 
 worth a great many thousand dollars, and the 
 anomaly is that it lies there in the strong-box, col 
 lecting no interest. Raxworthy, when attacked 
 on this point, offers various excuses, but the fact 
 is, he is a victim to the true miser s mania for 
 gloating over treasure. It is heaven to him to sit 
 over the box, and plunge both his hands into 
 jingling piles of Spanish doubloons, Roman coins of 
 the Empire, American double eagles, odds and ends 
 of precious metals, diamonds, rubies and all the 
 rest of it, and to feel those concrete symbols of 
 wealth in his actual grasp. Usury has its charms ; 
 to dip fingers in the glittering heaps of solid lucre 
 is a distinct and solid peculiar ecstacy, which 3-0 ur 
 genuine, thoroughbred miser cannot deny himself. 
 Auromania is as real a disease as dipsomania, and 
 as inaccessible to reason. Moreover, Raxworthy s 
 strong-box is a constant menace to his safety and 
 peace of mind, for he insists on keeping it in his 
 own house instead of in a safetv vault. He must
 
 RAXWORTHY S TREASURE. 55 
 
 have it ever ready at hand, as the toper his bottle. 
 Nay, he must occasionally speak of it to other 
 people, and even display it to them ; and the fame 
 of it has traveled further than he perhaps suspects. 
 Not long ago, for instance, he received a letter 
 written on paper bearing the imprint of the corre 
 spondence department of the famous Green Vaults 
 of Dresden, and signed by a gentleman as curator. 
 In this communication, permission was asked to 
 examine his treasure, with a view to the possible 
 purchase of it. Raxworthy was very vain of this 
 evidence of distinction, as he considered it, and 
 when, in due course of time, the eminent curator 
 and his private secretary arrived in New York, our 
 friend spent several hours in showing them his col 
 lection. The curator, who, it appears, was a Ger 
 man of a morbid and ultra-cautious cast of mind, 
 as befitted a gentleman entrusted with the custo 
 dianship of the Green Vaults, pointed out to Rax 
 worthy the folly of permitting his treasure to 
 remain exposed to the perils of theft and fire ; but 
 Raxworthy displayed arrangements in the way of 
 locks, bars, spring guns, and electric alarms, and 
 proved the fallacy of the timid foreigner s misgiv 
 ings. A discussion then arose as to the cash value 
 of the collection, and Raxworthy named a price
 
 56 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 more than twice as high as he really believed the 
 things to be worth. The curator, on the other 
 hand, declared he was not authorized to offer more 
 than an amount which appeared to Raxworth}^ 
 ludicrously inadequate. They dickered over the 
 matter like a couple of Pennsylvania Dutchmen 
 over a horse trade, and after several days, they 
 seemed not much nearer a settlement .than at the 
 start. I was inclined to think that the entire 
 affair was of a somewhat Pickwickian complexion ; 
 that is to say, I doubted whether the party of the 
 first part had any serious intention to purchase ; 
 and I was morally certain that had Raxworthy 
 been conceded the whole amount of his first demand 
 he would have found some pretext for wriggling 
 out of the bargain. At all events the foreigners 
 finally retired, with many courteous expressions 
 of esteem, promising to confer with their superiors, 
 and communicate the latter s ultimatum to 
 Raxworthy. Nobody seriously imagined that 
 anything more would ever be heard of the subject ; 
 though Raxworthy himself pretended that he 
 anticipated receiving an autograph letter from 
 the king of Saxony, offering him all the money he 
 asked for, and the Cross of the Saxon Order of 
 Merit into the bargain. In fact, Raxworthy, like
 
 KAXWOKTHY S TREASURE. 57 
 
 man} other people of eccentric and solitary life, 
 enjoyed living in a sort of fairyland of his own 
 creation, and foisting upon himself the most fan 
 tastic delusions. And this, by the way, leads me 
 to speak of an aspect of his character which some 
 times led him into quaint predicaments. 
 
 Raxworthy was a confirmed Spiritualist. He 
 -did not say much about it, but those who knew 
 him, knew that such was the fact. He consulted 
 mediums and astrologers on business questions, 
 and, what is more singular, he not seldom took 
 their advice. Whether or not the advice always 
 turned out well, I don t know, but he never said 
 anything to the contrary. There is no accounting 
 for such vagaries. They are constantly observed 
 in men otherwise shrewd and hard-headed. It 
 may be the result of an instinctive reaction against 
 the despotism of the concrete and rational. I will 
 now relate an instance of Raxworthy s spiritual 
 istic experience, which is not only curious but 
 rather romantic as well. 
 
 In the first place I must go back to Six Cent 
 Sam s eating house, where, when this long digres 
 sion began, I was on the point of sitting down 
 at Raxworthy s table. We greeted each other 
 cordially, and I ordered, as usual, a chop and a
 
 58 
 
 SIX CENT SAM S. 
 
 pint of Beaune. Rax worthy, when he pays his 
 own score, is frugal in his 
 meals; but is not averse to 
 conviviality at the expense of 
 others. So I offered him a 
 share of my bottle; and when, 
 in a few minutes, Sam came 
 along and yielded to my invi 
 tation to sit down with us, 
 I ordered another pint. Under the genial influence 
 of these proceedings, Raxworthy presently waxed 
 loquacious. 
 
 "You recollect," he said, "those German fellows 
 \vho came to treat with me about my collection ? 
 Well, I knew I hadn t heard the last of them, and 
 the other day I got a letter asking me to meet 
 them in Philadelphia; they wanted to amend 
 their offer. I locked up my house and went. 
 When I got there, I found there had been some 
 misunderstanding; they had waited for me all the 
 day before and then gone off, leaving a letter with 
 the clerk of their hotel to say that they had a 
 further proposition from Dresden, which they 
 would like to submit to me. They made another 
 appointment to meet me this week here in New- 
 York."
 
 RAXWORTHY S TREASURE. 59> 
 
 "You are playing in big luck," said I. 
 
 "What do you know about these folks?" 
 inquired Sam. " Are they straight ? Can they do 
 what they say they can? " 
 
 "You should have seen their letters of introduc 
 tion ; and I happen to know they have credit for a 
 million." 
 
 "Humph! I don t know. Have you consulted 
 our friends on the other side ? " 
 xRaxworthy gave him a quick glance. "You 
 mean 
 
 "Spirits, of course. What else?" rejoined Sam r 
 sipping his wine. 
 
 Raxworthy looked gratified. "You re a sensible 
 fellow," he said. "You recognize that the affairs 
 of this world are guided by supersensuous powers. 
 I like to talk to a man who can rise above vulgar 
 prejudice." 
 
 "If you mean a reflection on me," I hastened to 
 say, "I am anxious not to be vulgar, when I get a 
 chance." 
 
 He laughed good-naturedly. "Oh, there s no 
 telling what you believe. However, I could tell 
 you fellows something;" he lowered his voice and 
 bent forward "there s a medium I know her 
 name is Mrs. Selkirk ; she has sent me word that
 
 <30 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 there s a message awaiting me which will have a 
 permanent influence on my fortune. I am to meet 
 her this evening." 
 
 "I d like to go with you, "said Sam, much to my 
 surprise. 
 
 "You would? Well, I don t know but it might 
 be managed. It ll be in the nature of a test, you 
 know. And you can come, too," he added, turn 
 ing to me. "Of course, you know, her fee is two 
 dollars each person. It s a good deal of money, 
 but-" 
 
 "Never mind," said Sam, gravely, "we ll raise it 
 -for that." 
 
 A shade of anxiety departed from Raxworthy s 
 face. "All right, then," he responded, heartily. 
 "At eight o clock. It may be about those German 
 fellows. I shouldn t be surprised." 
 
 It was not about them, however. I confess that 
 the performance impressed me. Sam was silent 
 and attentive, seeming to be familiar with such 
 things. I wondered if there were anything which 
 that man had not experienced. As for Mrs. Selkirk, 
 she was a quiet, slender woman of middle age, 
 with one of those average faces that one imagines 
 one has seen before. She was a thoroughly 
 respectable person. She wore black silk, with
 
 KAXWORTHY S TREASURE. 61 
 
 white ruching, and white lace around her hair. It 
 was a private seance no one present but our 
 selves. After a few polite preliminaries, we went 
 into executive session. The room was darkened, 
 until, by my utmost stretch of vision, I could just 
 see what I believed to be Mrs. Selkirk s white lace 
 and ruching. Gradually a luminous appearance 
 bloomed out, so to say, in the air above and 
 behind her head. 
 
 "They are taking me to a house, "murmured the 
 medium. "It is a house in Yernon street," she 
 presently added ; and I declare, that, as she said 
 these words, I saw, or fully believed I saw, the 
 phantom of a house appear in the midst of the 
 luminous place. It was a small, old brick house, 
 the blinds closed and defaced, the wooden steps 
 leading up to the door in a ruinous state, and an 
 air of not having been inhabited for a long time 
 hanging over the whole place. 
 
 "Who is in control ?" asked Raxworthy, in a 
 reverent voice. 
 
 There was no reply to this question. The appa 
 rition of the house slowly ceased to be visible, but 
 something else seemed to be coming into existence 
 in another part of the room. It was very faint at 
 first, but after wavering back and forth for a
 
 62 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 while, now in this world and now in the other, it 
 became more distinct ; it was the figure of some 
 body of a man. His face was in a sort of 
 shadow, or perhaps it was not so fully material 
 ized as the other parts. He inclined his body 
 stiffly, and said in a quavering voice : 
 
 "Evenin , folks; I m Gaffer Peters." 
 
 I began to feel uneasy at this miracle, and turned 
 for support to Sam, who, however, was invisible 
 in the darkness. 
 
 "Glad to see you, Gaffer," said Raxworthy, 
 encouragingly, for the poor old gentleman seemed 
 on the point of fading out again. "Have you any 
 message for any of us ? " 
 
 "Look under the hearthstone," was the barely 
 audible reply. "The hearthstone in the back sit 
 ting room. It worries me it worries me. I 
 buried it there The voice died away. 
 
 "You buried it yes, Gaffer. What was it that 
 you buried?" said Raxworthy, in a tone of 
 repressed eagerness. 
 
 "Gold and jewels gold and jewels a treasure 
 vast treasure," came the halting reply. "I can t 
 rest gold and jewels buried hearthstone " 
 The voice seemed constantly on the verge of disap 
 pearing into silence entirely.
 
 RAXWORTHY S TREASURE. 63 
 
 "In what place are they buried?" inquired 
 Raxworthy, pronouncing the words with anxious 
 distinctness, as if to make up for the vocal deficien 
 cies of the venerable spectre. 
 
 There was a considerable pause, and to our con 
 sternation, the figure of our interlocuter grew 
 dimmer and finally was altogether absorbed into 
 the darkness. But out of that darkness the answer 
 sounded, and it was more clearly audible than any 
 of the previous utterances, as if the Gaffer s lungs 
 had gained all the materializing power that the 
 rest of the spirit had lost. 
 
 "No. 97 Vernon street. I give it all to you. Go 
 quickly. It may be too late." 
 The medium stirred restlessly. 
 
 "I guess that s all we ll get this evening," 
 remarked Sam, at last, and he stepped to the gas 
 jet and turned on the light. 
 
 Mrs. Selkirk passed her hands over her eyes, and 
 smiled politely upon us. 
 
 "Was the seance successful ? Were you satisfied, 
 gentlemen? " she asked, in a matter-of-fact tone. 
 
 "Quite so, madam," replied Sam in his deep 
 voice. "It looks as if our friend Raxworthy would 
 be indebted to you in a much greater sum than 
 two dollars."
 
 64 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 "Oh, I can t admit that," exclaimed Raxworthy 
 hastily. "We may have been deceived, you know ;; 
 besides " 
 
 " If gentlemen meet with good fortune in conse- 
 
 o o 
 
 quence of my seances, they are not expected to pay 
 anything extra," said Airs. Selkirk, quietly; "and. 
 on the other hand, I am not to be held responsible 
 in case of any disappointment. Those are the 
 rules." So saying she arose, as if to intimate that 
 the seance was at a close. We made our adieux,, 
 and departed. 
 
 "Honestly, now, what do you think of that? " 
 demanded Raxworthy, triumphantly, as he faced 
 us on the sidewalk. 
 
 "Honestly, I want a drop of whisky," said I. 
 
 Sam tipped his hat on the back of his head, and 
 thrust his hands in his pockets. 
 
 "As a practical man, I say we put this thing to 
 the test at once," said he. "Vernon street s near 
 here; let s go and find out what No. 97 looks like." 
 
 We went. Vernon street turned out to be a 
 small and obscure place, westw-ard from Jefferson 
 Market. It was dirty and ill-lighted, and given up 
 to a vile class of the population. But I had a 
 "turn" when I beheld, nearly at the extremity of 
 it, the very identical building of which we had seen
 
 RAXWORTHY S TREASURE. 65 
 
 the apparition at the seance. There it was, a 
 rickety two-story brick building, with blinds rot 
 ting off their hinges, and a flight of tumbledown 
 wooden steps leading to the front door. 
 
 We all three stared up at it in awed silence. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Raxworthy," said Sam, at last, 
 "that seems to be your house, all right enough. 
 What do you intend to do next? " 
 
 "Why, let s get in, and find out whether the 
 back sitting room 
 
 " I do n t approve of house-breaking, interrupted 
 Sam, decisively. "Besides, even if we found the 
 treasure, it would belong to the landlord and not 
 to us. That s law, I believe." 
 
 "What do you advise, then?" Raxworthy 
 asked. 
 
 "Become the landlord yourself." 
 
 "You don t mean buy the house?" cried Rax 
 worthy, recoiling. 
 
 Sam nodded grimly. "That s just what I do 
 mean, sir," was his answer. 
 
 "Wouldn t it do to rent it? " asked Raxworthy, 
 with a gleam of hope. 
 
 "Renting wouldn t entitle you to the treasure." 
 
 "But suppose there shouldn t be any treasure, "
 
 66 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 said Raxworthy, wiping the perspiration from his 
 forehead. 
 
 "Well, there s where your test comes in. It s to 
 take or to leave. The spirits were right about the 
 house, any w ay." 
 
 "Yes," assented Raxworthy, in sore distress. 
 "But I don t really know where I am to find the 
 money to " 
 
 "I ll make you this proposition," said Sam, 
 emphatically, as he bit the end off a cigar ; " I ll go 
 shares with you on the house or I ll buy it all 
 myself treasure included ; is that fair ? " 
 
 "Oh, as to that, I suppose I m obliged to you, 
 of course. Still, I might manage somehow to 
 raise the money, if Do you suppose I could get 
 it for a hundred dollars?" faltered the wretched 
 Raxworthy. 
 
 "Get that house for a hundred dollars?" 
 repeated Sam, with boundless scorn. "You d be 
 luckier than I expect you will if it goes to you for 
 a hundred times a hundred." 
 
 "Ten thousand dollars? Oh, that s impossible," 
 cried the tortured victim. 
 
 "And there might be nothing in it after all," 
 assented Sam. "All right; then I take the whole 
 outfit. I happen to have ten thousand that I d
 
 RAXWOKTHY S TREASURE. 
 
 67 
 
 about as lief put in there as anywhere. Well, if 
 you re not going my way, I ll bid you good-night, 
 gentlemen." 
 
 "Hold up a minute," groaned Rax\vorthy. "I 
 could get it on two-thirds mortgage, couldn t I? " 
 "Yotiniight, or you might not; probably not," 
 said Sam, coldly. 
 
 "Well, I ll inquire; I ll think it over, and decide 
 in a fe\v days," Raxworthy rejoined. 
 
 "I m decided now," said Sam. "I shall buy 
 that house, mortgage or no mortgage, the first 
 thing to-morrow morning. If the treasure turns 
 out to be there, well and good. If not, why, real 
 estate is going up in this neighborhood, and I 
 guess I can get my money back, anyway." 
 
 "I never thought of that," cried Raxworthy, 
 
 eagerly. "Of course 
 I could sell it again ; 
 in fact, I would do 
 that, in any case, 
 after the question 
 of the treasure had 
 been decided. Or, 
 better yet, I can 
 rent it in the first 
 instance, and then, if the treasure turns out to be
 
 68 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 there, I can buy the place outright, and so legalize 
 my possession of the treasure. Oh, that s the 
 grandest scheme of all." 
 
 A momentary smile flitted over the iron visage of 
 Sam. 
 
 "Well, I ve told you my ultimatum," said he, 
 "If the house isn t yours to-morrow, it will be 
 mine. And now, gentlemen, this is no place for 
 respectable citizens to be at midnight. If you d 
 like to come and have a quiet chat over a bottle of 
 my Burgundy, come on; it won t cost you any 
 thing. We re close by." 
 
 To make a long story short, Raxworthy became 
 the owner of No. 97 Vernon street, on compara 
 tively easy terms. On that momentous afternoon, 
 Sam and I accompanied him to the premises. 
 With as much precaution and mystery as if we 
 were going to inter a murdered corpse instead of 
 unearth a possible bag of treasure, we took with 
 us, carefully wrapped up in canvas, a spade and a 
 pick. We effected an entrance into the house with 
 out attracting undue attention from passers-by, 
 and found it to be very dark arid very dirty 
 within. Sam, however, had had the forethought 
 to bring in his pocket a bit of candle, having
 
 RAXWORTHY S TREASURE. 69 
 
 lighted which, we proceeded to the fateful back sit 
 ting room. 
 
 At this stage of the adventure, Rax worthy s agi 
 tation became painfully manifest. I was not a 
 little excited myself. Sam was circumspect but 
 composed. As he stooped over the hearthstone, I 
 fancied I discerned symptoms of the butt of a 
 revolver in the hip pocket of his trousers. So far, 
 everything house, street, number, room, and 
 hearthstone, had fulfilled the ghost s word, which 
 we were almost ready to take, as did Hamlet, for 
 i thousand pounds. We gathered about the 
 hearthstone, and glowered down upon it. Would 
 the ray of our flickering taper, as we turned back 
 the heavy slab from its resting-place, sparkle upon 
 Si vast heap of splendid jewels and gold ? If so, 
 what w^as one to think about Spiritualism? No 
 test could be more convincing. 
 
 "Take the pick, and go at it," said Sam, in vig 
 orous, practical tones. "Let s have the agony 
 over, one way or the other." 
 
 Raxw T orthy, thus appealed to, laid hands upon 
 the tool in question, but \vas unable to make any 
 play with it. He was in such a nervous tremor 
 that his muscles (if he had any) \vere not under 
 his control.
 
 70 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 "Pshaw! Give we the daggers," cried Sam, 
 "Stand by to help with the spade when I get the 
 slab started. In she goes now, then, up shecomes. 
 Lay it on one side, there. Well, what have we 
 got?" 
 
 What, indeed ? We all went down on our hands 
 and knees, and peered into the cavity revealed 
 by the uplifted stone. No flash of radiant jewels 
 greeted our eyes. The hole seemed to contain 
 nothing but dirt and rubbish. Raxworthy, with 
 a sort of desperation, finally reached in, and clawed 
 out some folds of old oilcloth. This seemed to be 
 all the booty in sight. He uttered a groan 
 that was like a sob. 
 
 " Ten thousand dollars for a scrap of oilcloth ! " 
 He rose from his knees with the feeble movement 
 of an aged man, and was about to totter away 
 when Sam arrested his departure. 
 
 "Not so fast, young fellow," said he. "You re 
 no hand at treasure hunting. We re not at the 
 bottom of this thing yet. Here, what do you call 
 this?" 
 
 He had laid hold of a knot or tuft of something 
 that projected from the bottom of the hole. He 
 gave a stout tug at it, but it resisted the effort.
 
 RAXWORTHY S TREASURE. 71 
 
 "Bear a hand here, some of you, "cried he. "Am 
 I the only man among you who has any faith?" 
 
 Hereupon, we all got our hands upon that pro 
 jecting tuft, and heaved amain, Raxworthy, 
 especially, putting a fury of strength into his lift. 
 And, lo, up came, slowly but surely, a huge, heavy 
 bag of coarse sacking, weighing as much as the 
 three of us could well handle. As we dropped it on 
 the floor beside the hole, there proceeded from it an 
 unmistakable chinking sound, as of metal. At 
 that sound Raxworthy s face became ghastly pale, 
 and he panted as if he had just run a race. Sam 
 ripped open the mouth of the bag, then seized it by 
 the bottom and, with a great jerk, emptied the 
 whole contents out on the floor. 
 
 It was true, after all. The apparition had not 
 lied. Spiritualism was vindicated. Before us lay 
 a vast pile of gold and precious stones, to the value 
 of Heaven knows how many hundred thousand 
 dollars. Raxworthy had become a millionaire in a 
 moment. He emitted a wild screech, and threw 
 himself face downward into the midst of the 
 treasure. 
 
 "Mine mine all mine!" he gurgled out, as he 
 wallowed at our feet, oblivious and careless of us 
 and all the world.
 
 72 
 
 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 "It s a queer sight, isn t it?" remarked Sam, 
 turning to me with a smile on one side 
 ofhismouth. "Somemenlove 
 a woman, and some love the ;l u 
 presidency of the United 
 States ; but did you ever 
 know a lover or a poli 
 
 tician to love anything 
 
 / 
 
 or anybody as much ., 
 
 as that creature ,,,;u 
 there l 
 
 dirt? Look at ~ 
 
 him, sir; it s 
 
 worth looking at ; there s nothing else just like it 
 
 on the face of this earth." 
 
 As this was the only moralizing speech I ever 
 happened to hear Sam make, I transcribe the 
 whole of it. 
 
 It was some time before our fri-end became 
 enough of a human being again to allow of being 
 reasoned with. But in the course of half an hour 
 or so we got him on his legs and the treasure 
 back into the bag. I am free to admit that the 
 events of the afternoon had somewhat agitated 
 even me, though my share in the treasure was that 
 of an observer only ; and I retain no very clear
 
 RAXWORTHY S TREASURE. 73 
 
 recollection of what occurred immediately after 
 this. I seem to remember that \ve somehow got 
 the bag to the door, and that somehow a hack 
 happened to be standing there, and that as we got 
 into it, I noticed Sam speak to a couple of police 
 men who happened to be on the spot. Then he 
 got in, and slammed the door of the vehicle and off 
 we trundled. 
 
 In fifteen minutes we were at Raxworthy s 
 rooms, with the bag. He threw off his coat, and 
 wiped his forehead. 
 
 "I ll tell you what I ll do, fellows," said he. "I ll 
 get out my strong box, and we ll count the 
 treasure into it, and if it turns out to be as good 
 as it looks, I ll make Mrs. Selkirk a present of five 
 dollars." 
 
 "Steady, my man," said Sam; "don t be rash." 
 
 "Well, that s the way I feel," he replied. "I m 
 reckless. I ll give her two dollars, anyhow." 
 
 "Better cool off a bit, before you commit your 
 self," returned the other. 
 
 "You two must help me with the box," he went 
 on ; "it s as heavy as the bag." 
 
 We followed him to the fireplace in his bedroom. 
 He pushed aside a panel in the wall, disclosing an 
 iron door, secured by a couple of steel bars and an
 
 74 six .CENT SAM S. 
 
 immense lock. He took out a key, and applied it 
 to the keyhole. It would not turn. 
 
 "Anj^thing wrong? " Sam inquired. 
 
 Raxworthy made another effort; it was as 
 futile as the first. He turned upon us with a 
 ghastly look. 
 
 "It s been tampered with," he said, in a husky 
 whisper. 
 
 "Stuff! Give her another turn," rejoined Sam. 
 
 Raxworthy made a gesture eloquent of terror 
 and despair. 
 
 "Oh, what does it mean? " he quavered. "My 
 soul, \vhat is it ? " 
 
 Sam stooped down and examined the lock. "It 
 looks to me like flat burglary," he remarked,, 
 coolly. "And a mighty neat job, too." 
 
 A paroxysm seized Raxworthy. He sprang up 
 and gave the knob of the iron door a violent 
 wrench. The door flew open, and Raxworthy sat 
 down on the floor hard. 
 
 "Keys unnecessary," remarked Sam, still with 
 the same impassivity. He took hold of the box 
 and pulled it out of the cavity in which it stood 
 with a single jerk of his powerful arm. It came to> 
 the floor with a hollow sound that affected 
 
 * 
 
 Raxworthy as might the Crack of Doom a con-
 
 RAXWORTHY S TREASURE. 75 
 
 demned soul. Neither words or outcries could any 
 longer express his feelings. He sat huddled up on 
 the floor, staring at the chest, voiceless and almost 
 lifeless while convulsive shudderings ever and anon 
 passed through his lean body. 
 
 "A clean job," repeated Sam, throwing open the 
 lid, and glancing within. "They did leave you the 
 box, though, and, if you ve lost one treasure, 
 you ve got another to put in the place of it. Just 
 pour into the box what is in the bag, and say no 
 more about it." 
 
 "Ruined! All my gold," moaned Rax worthy, 
 with a sob. 
 
 "You make me very weary," said Sam. He took 
 hold of the bag and once more emptied its contents 
 on the floor. "Ruined, eh?" he added; "I wish I 
 was ruined to the same tune." 
 
 My stars, what a gorgeous heap of wealth it 
 was. Doubloons, moidores, eagles, nuggets, dia 
 monds, rubies, and all the rest of it. 
 
 "It s just as good as your own pile over again," 
 said Sam, "neither more nor less." 
 
 "They re not worth the tenth of mine," said 
 Rax worthy, tragically. But the rattle and spar 
 kle of the jewels had aroused him in spite of him 
 self. He picked up one of the doubloons, then
 
 76 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 another; then he examined a nugget. A sudden 
 flush sprang into his face; with trembling hands 
 he snatched up a diamond ring of peculiar design. 
 
 "What ails the fellow now?" muttered Sam, 
 while that odd half smile again twitched the corner 
 of his mouth. 
 
 Raxworthy, meanwhile, continued to catch up 
 one jewel or coin after another, and stare at them 
 like one demented. 
 
 "Why, what s this? and this? and this?" he 
 cried, again and again. "They re mine, I tell you 
 mine all mine! These are what they robbed 
 me of. Am I crazy? My own treasure how can 
 it be?" He broke into frantic convulsions of 
 laughter, in the midst of which he kept gathering 
 up double handfuls of the precious stuff, and bury 
 ing his face in it; I believe he was actually 
 kissing it. 
 
 "What he found, he s lost, and what he s lost, 
 he s found," Sam observed, philosophically. 
 " That s apt to be the way in this world." 
 
 There was a knock at the door. Sam opened it. 
 There stood a policeman. He saluted Sam deferen 
 tially. 
 
 "Well? "said the latter.
 
 RAXWORTHY S TREASURE. 77 
 
 "We ve got the birds," said the officer. "They 
 turned up not ten minutes after you left." 
 
 "A close shave, all round," Sam remarked. 
 "We ll be round to identify em in an hour. That s 
 all." 
 
 He closed the door again, and contemplated 
 Raxworthy, still caressing his treasure, \vith 
 contemptuous amusement. 
 
 "It s a pity to disturb him, isn t it?" he said. 
 "He s twice as happy as if he d never been robbed 
 at all. But business is business. Come on, Mr. 
 Rax\vorthy. I ll have to take you to police head 
 quarters for a few minutes, and then you will have 
 your evening to devote to your wife." 
 
 Now, what was the meaning of all this ? It was 
 a perplexing case. The two burglars turned out 
 to be identical with the distinguished curator oi 
 the Green Yavilts of Dresden, and his secretary; and 
 the police also professed to remember in them two 
 well-known and skillful offenders against our pres 
 ent laws regarding property. One of the chief 
 \vitnesses against them was the original proprie 
 tor of the premises at No. 97 Vernon street, who, 
 also, strange to relate, was indistinguishable from
 
 78 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 that excellent medium and lady, Mrs. Selkirk. I 
 have suspected, since these events, that Mrs. Sel 
 kirk and Sam were old acquaintances ; and it may 
 be worth mentioning that I once saw, in Sam s 
 back office, an antique bell-crowned hat, which 
 reminded me strongly of the one \vorn by that 
 amiable and distressed spectre, the late Gaffer 
 Peters. 
 
 But is it not singular that the robbers should 
 have concealed their booty in the very spot, of all 
 others, in which Gaffer Peters had directed Rax- 
 worthy to dig for his own hoard ? The ways of 
 Providence, not to speak of the artfulness of the 
 police, are sometimes past finding out. As a test 
 of the trustworthiness of Spiritualism, the adven 
 ture is perhaps less satisfactory than it seemed to 
 be at first. But it is at all events certain that 
 Sam, later on, took No. 97 off Raxworthy s hands, 
 and has since turned it into a retreat for helpless 
 and decayed newsboys.
 
 THE JOHN NORTH MYSTERY. 
 
 HREE days before the 
 recent election I was 
 dining at Judge Horn- 
 buckle s, on West Fifty- 
 Third street, and was 
 accorded the privilege 
 of sitting beside Miss 
 Ann Carew. I have 
 known this young lady 
 a good many years, but 
 of late we have met but 
 seldom. She has been 
 abroad and in society, she is rich and a beauty, 
 and the world is large; at all events our paths 
 diverged. But there remained on each side a 
 cordial sentiment, and whenever we did meet it 
 was with pleasure. She was, at the time of which 
 I am now "writing, just past her twenty-first year, 
 and in no respect a common girl. She has a mind 
 as well as a body, and both are adorable. 
 
 79
 
 80 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 The judge, with his manners of a gentleman of 
 the old school, had been giving some attention to 
 the political situation. Since the close of Grant s 
 second term he had not personally entered the 
 political arena. He has a clean record, and no 
 man in the state is more respected. "It is the 
 fashion," he was saying, from the chair which he 
 so dignified!}- filled at the head of the table, "to 
 assert that politics are becoming totally corrupt. 
 I am disposed to challenge that assertion. In view 
 of the fact that the persons in charge of our state 
 and municipal affairs are frequently of humble ori 
 gin and limited education, that they are placed in 
 positions of great responsibility, that they are sub 
 jected to strong temptations, and must often act 
 under powerful excitement, taking these circum 
 stances into consideration I am more inclined to 
 admire their general well-doing than to cavil at 
 h m their occasional lapses." 
 
 "How long since you got back?" I asked Ann 
 Carew. 
 
 " From Europe ? Only a few days ago. This is 
 the first time I ve seen anybody since. I almost 
 wish I d stayed till these elections were over. It s 
 like being in a house where somebody is ill. Unless 
 you re either a doctor or a patient, it s tiresome."
 
 THE JOHN NORTH MYSTERY. 81 
 
 "Not personally," said the judge, replying to 
 someone. "I happen, however, to have some 
 information concerning him. He affords a favora 
 ble example of the truth of the contention I was 
 just making that sterling integrity is the strong 
 est recommendation to popular favor in this coun 
 try. Once convince the people that the character 
 of a candidate is beyond question, and they will 
 support him with enthusiasm. Now, the gentle 
 man you have mentioned has, in a period compar 
 atively brief, accomplished a remarkable and in all 
 respects a creditable career. Six months ago he 
 was practically unknown, except, of course, as to 
 his services during the concluding years of the war, 
 when, though a very young man, he distinguished 
 himself for bravery and capacity. But since that 
 period he has entirely disappeared from public 
 view. I believe I am correct in stating that he is 
 almost a stranger even in society, though \vell- 
 qualified to become a favorite there. A bachelor, a 
 student, a recluse, such has been his category. 
 Last spring not half a dozen persons in this city 
 enjoyed the pleasure of his acquaintance; to-day 
 he is and deservedly perhaps the most conspic 
 uous figure among the candidates before the peo-
 
 82 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 pie. I venture the prophesy that he will secure the 
 election." 
 
 "Who is this demigod?" I inquired of my com 
 panion. 
 
 She shook her head and smiled. " I didn t catch 
 his name. I am more interested to know the 
 name of the gentleman on the other side of the 
 table. He has one of the finest heads and strongest 
 faces I ever saw. And what eyes they look right 
 through you. Do you kno\v him ? " 
 
 "I know him, and I don t. He is a mystery. If 
 I were told that he were the autocrat of this city, 
 I should believe it. And yet he permits me to call 
 him Sam. He is all things to all men. If you ll 
 permit it, I ll introduce him to you after dinner." 
 
 "Thank you. Dear me, we are not done with 
 the demigod yet." 
 
 "It was quite by an accident," the judge was 
 saying. "He had made an invention for coupling 
 and uncoupling cars automatically, and he had 
 taken out a patent for the invention. In endeavor 
 ing to introduce it, however, he found himself ham 
 pered by a secret and invisible opposition. It was 
 the old story of a vast monopoly retarding the 
 march of progress for selfish pecuniary ends. But 
 this man knew the value of his invention and
 
 THE JOHN NORTH MYSTERY. 
 
 83 
 
 would accept neither compromise nor defeat. He 
 declared war, and entered into a contest appar 
 ently hopeless with a spirit and determination 
 nothing less than heroic. As time \venton, he was 
 naturally led to investigate the whole subject of 
 railway rings and monopolies ; his spirit infected 
 others, and the sphere of the conflict enlarged. At 
 length he found himself at the head of a resolute 
 and well equipped body of men, sworn to expose 
 and shatter the iniquity which had so long main 
 tained itself in defiance of the public will and weal. 
 Such a struggle could not fail to attract wide 
 attention. Before it was over our friend was a 
 marked man. The qualities he had shown could 
 not be spared from political life. He was nomi 
 nated for reform, and there is no 
 doubt that he will receive an over 
 whelming popular vote, and, as I 
 believe, will run far ahead of his 
 ticket. It is noteworthy that many 
 even of those who ordinarily might 
 have been expected to oppose him 
 appear among his supporters in this canvass." 
 
 "Is not that rather an ambiguous compliment, 
 judge? " asked one of his hearers. "I know it has 
 puzzled more than one of his friends." It was the
 
 8-4 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 personage whom I had referred to under the name 
 of Sam who put the query. 
 
 I am sure that you, at any rate, have not mis 
 interpreted it," retorted the judge, courteously. 
 
 "I know John North," said the other. "He s 
 honest, and I believe he has too much sense to be 
 used as a cat s-paw. But the support of the men 
 you refer to is a queer phenomenon." 
 
 "Possibly they are capable of better things than 
 you suppose," said a dark browed, smooth faced 
 gentleman, affably. 
 
 "Possibly, Mr. Ryan," said Sam, glancing at the 
 speaker. 
 
 "Did he say John North ? "murmured Ann Care \v. 
 She spoke in such a faint voice that I turned in sur 
 prise, and found her quite pale. 
 
 "The name is a common one," I remarked. 
 
 "Very common," assented she, the color return 
 ing to her face. After a moment she addressed the 
 judge: "What sort of a looking man is this Mr. 
 North?" 
 
 "I could hardly describe him to you, MissCarew. 
 As I said, I have not the pleasure of his personal 
 acquaintance, and 
 
 "He s a trifle over forty, well set up, dark beard, 
 wears spectacles," put in Sam, with a polite incli-
 
 THE JOHN NORTH MYSTERY. 85 
 
 nation of the head to the young lady. "Nothing 
 extraordinary to look at. There might be a 
 dozen men in New York who resemble him more or 
 less." 
 
 "Not an unusual type, by any means," echoed 
 Air. Ryan. "It s his mental qualities that dis 
 tinguish him. A very eloquent speaker, also." 
 
 "And that s another puzzling thing," said Sam. 
 "A month ago John North could hardly string 
 a dozen sentences together. Now, he s as fluent as 
 a Frenchman. I haven t had an opportunity to 
 ask him ho\v he manages it. He has become rather 
 difficult of access. But it s an odd development of 
 the power of politics." 
 
 "Not so very rare, I think," slid in Mr. Ryan, 
 softly. "I could recall other instances. It is the 
 occasion, you know, that often draws out the 
 man." 
 
 "I think it would be fun to attend a political 
 meeting," said Ann Carew to me, confidentially. 
 "It is an experience I ve never had. Are there to 
 be any good ones this week? " 
 
 " There is to be one to-morrow evening, and John 
 North is due to speak at it. Let us make a little 
 party, and go my friend Sam, your aunt, and I. 
 Will vou do it?"
 
 86 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 She looked at me with e\ T es that lightened by turns. 
 For some reason, she had become excited and 
 nervous during the last few minutes. 
 
 "I like your friend, "she said, at length; " I think I 
 shall like him. But I must talk a little with him 
 first. Bring him to me after dinner. I have a 
 curiosity to see a political meeting," she repeated. 
 
 She was going to say something more, but Mrs. 
 Hornbuckle gathered eyes just then, and the ladies 
 rose. When we follow r ed them, I presented Sam, 
 and left him and Ann Carew in earnest conversa 
 tion. At the end of the evening, she beckoned me 
 aside to say : 
 
 "I have decided to go. We have made the 
 arrangements. My aunt and I will be ready when 
 you call for us to-morrow." 
 
 Sam and I left the house together. " That fellow 
 Ryan," he said, "is one of the reasons why I can t 
 make out John North. Ryan is in with one of the 
 worst political rings in the city. North can t be 
 ignorant of it, and yet the two are close friends. 
 Then again, North has taken to evading me and 
 some other men who helped to put him where he is. 
 This is n t a question of political gratitude, though ; 
 I don t want anything from anybody, and if I did 
 I could get it without having to wait long, I guess.
 
 THE JOHN NORTH MYSTERY. 87 
 
 But North, as the judge said, is not the man to let 
 his friends feel snubbed. There s a screw loose, 
 somewhere; I do n t know where, but I mean to 
 find out." 
 
 "I have no doubt you ll succeed." 
 
 "Miss Ann Carew is a nice young lady," 
 remarked Sam, as we walked along. " Did she ever 
 know him? " 
 
 "North? Not that I m aware." 
 
 "There s no telling about women. I go this 
 way. See you to-morrow. Good-night." 
 
 The hall was crowded, but Sam secured good 
 seats for our little party near the stage on which 
 the orators of the evening were to hold forth. Ann 
 Carew s aunt sat bet\veen Sam and myself; Ann 
 herself was on my right. She was animated, but 
 did not talk much. She kept her eyes busy. 
 
 "Do you see John North," she asked me. 
 
 As I did not know the man by sight, I passed 
 the question to Sam, who shook his head. The 
 speaking began. It was of the familiar campaign 
 order, and was received with the familiar campaign 
 enthusiasm. The atmosphere of the hall was bad, 
 and I be^an to feel bored. Bv and bv there was a
 
 88 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 stir at the rear of the stage, and the chairman, ris 
 ing, announced Mr. John North. 
 
 The person thus designated made his way 
 through the group, and stepped into the vacant 
 space on the chairman s right. Cheers were called 
 for, and given with heartiness. John North 
 bowed, and adjusted his spectacles. He stood in a 
 graceful position, one hand behind him, and the 
 other ready for gesture at his side. In his 
 demeanor there was certainly nothing of the green 
 horn. He seemed a man accustomed to face 
 crowds. When silence was restored he began to 
 speak quietly, but, from the very first, \vith effect. 
 He was a trained orator a trained orator, rather 
 than a natural one. Whence did he get his train 
 ing? From a few weeks experience of stump- 
 speaking ? Who ever heard of such a thing ? Yet 
 here was the fact before our eyes. I became so 
 much interested in his speech that I forgot all 
 about Ann Carew. I was recalled by an odd inci 
 dent. John North was in the midst of one of his 
 most impressive periods, and the audience was 
 quite silent, when all at once a laugh rang out. I 
 could scarcely credit my ears, but it was the laugh 
 of Ann Carew.
 
 THE JOHN NORTH MYSTERY. 
 
 89 
 
 I stared at her in consternation. Nor was I the 
 
 pei 
 
 our 
 
 Ann 
 ceived 
 
 only one who stared. In a moment 
 party was the center of observation 
 continued to laugh, but I now 
 that her laugh was somewhat 
 hysterical. As she was a young 
 lady of absolutely correct behav 
 ior, this was unaccountable. The 
 ence began 
 mur, and citizens 
 various parts 
 the hall appealed 
 indignantly t o 
 the chair for 
 order. Mr. 
 North, after 
 an attempt 
 continue his 
 remarks, was 
 forced to pause. Mr. Ryan, 
 whom I had not observed before, 
 rose from a seat near us and said : 
 "A young lady seems to have 
 been taken ill; if the audience 
 will exercise forbearance, her 
 friends will no doubt assist her to leave." Here-
 
 90 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 upon, to my additional dismay, and despite the 
 convulsive efforts of her aunt to restrain her, Ann 
 Carew stood up in her place, and lifted her right 
 hand to claim attention, as she might have done 
 at school when a child. 
 
 "I am not ill," she said, in a clear voice, "but 
 I should like to ask the gentleman who had the 
 floor a question. Will he allow me ? " 
 
 The audience \vas now still once more. The peo 
 ple on the stage exchanged \vhispers. A voice from 
 the gallery called out : 
 
 "Sure, if twas me, I d not stay to be axed; I d 
 be after doin the axin myself." 
 
 The audience chuckled at the characteristic gal 
 lantry of the honest Hibernian, and then listened 
 for what Ann might have to say. 
 
 "I merely wish to ask the gentleman on the 
 stage," continued Ann, "whether he knows w^ho I 
 am?" 
 
 The orator smiled in a sickly manner, and seemed 
 to be rattled. 
 
 "I meet a good many people," he said, "and I 
 have very possibly seen you before, Miss; but I 
 can t say I recall your face at this moment." 
 
 "No, you do not know me," broke in Ann, her 
 voice now rising high w r ith excitement; "but I
 
 THE JOHN NORTH MYSTKRY. 91 
 
 know John North, and I say to every one in this hall 
 that you are not " 
 
 The rest of the sentence was inaudible, for it was 
 drowned in a stentorian shout of " order ! " from 
 Sam, followed by general uproar, and vigorous 
 hammering with the chairman s gavel. Sam bent 
 across and whispered to me : 
 
 "We must get her out of this at once, or there ll 
 be trouble." 
 
 Our seats being on the aisle, we had little diffi 
 culty in escaping, and we were all four of us soon 
 in our carriage, with Ann sobbing in her corner, 
 but saying nothing ; while her aunt was too much 
 scandalized for coherent speech. As Sam and I 
 were awaiting further developments before com 
 mitting ourselves, the drive home was a silent 
 one. We reached the house and marched in single 
 file into the drawing room. 
 
 "Now, Miss Carew," said Sam, with composed 
 cheerfulness, "just you sit down and tell us all 
 about it. You ve got the key to this puzzle, and 
 you must open the lock. I have suspected all 
 along there was something crooked going on, and 
 I m sure of it now; but I don t know -what it is, 
 and you do; so out with it, and don t be afraid 
 but what we can make it right again."
 
 92 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 "Ann, you have behaved disgracefully, and I 
 think the kindest thing these gentlemen can do is 
 to forget all about it. I m sure I was never so 
 scandalized and frightened in my life," declared the 
 poor aunt, agitatedly. 
 
 "This is a serious matter, madam, and must be 
 sifted to the bottom," said Sam, turning to the 
 old lady, with a grave face. "Miss Carew had 
 good cause to do as she did, and not only we, but 
 the public of this city will, I expect, have reason to 
 be grateful to her. So now, my dear," he added, 
 to the girl, "what is it wrong about this John 
 North we saw to-night ? " 
 
 Ann sat erect, and lifted her tear-stained face. 
 
 "John North!" she cried; "that creature John 
 North ? He is an impostor ! The moment I heard 
 his voice I knew he was not John North." 
 
 "Why, Ann, what do you know of any John 
 North?" exclaimed the aunt; "I m sure I never 
 heard of him till yesterday." 
 
 "I know John North ; I met him two years ago ; 
 we \vere engaged ; but then \ve quarreled, and I 
 have not seen him since." 
 
 At this information, the aunt collapsed upon the 
 sofa, and Sam said cheerfully :
 
 THE JOHN NORTH MYSTERY. 93 
 
 "Come, that s straight and to the point. You 
 are certain that this man is not your John North, 
 and that your John is the same one the judge 
 was talking of last night ? " 
 
 "A girl knows the man she loves has loved," 
 said Ann, the color rushing to her face. 
 
 " But this fellow looks something like him? " 
 
 "Oh, I suppose he does something; but not 
 enough to deceive anybody with eyes," she 
 replied, impatiently. "And then his voice ah 
 She stopped, evidently in deep emotion. 
 
 "Still this may not be an imposter," said I to 
 Sam, aside. "There may be two John Norths, 
 both genuine; and as to their personal resemblance 
 that is by no means so uncommon a thing as most 
 people think." 
 
 Sam shook his head. "I have been puzzled all 
 along by a change in the man ; he has not looked 
 or acted quite the same since the day or two fol 
 lowing his first appearance on the rostrum. Then 
 again, if he is an impostor, it will explain one 
 problem that has troubled me all along." 
 
 "A problem?" 
 
 " The wav in \vhich the ring people suddenly 
 turned and supported him." 
 
 "How is that?"
 
 94 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 "My dear sir," said Sam, with some severity, 
 "John North is a genuine reformer, not one for 
 revenue only, and therefore he is the mortal enemy 
 of the men who are posing in that hall as his friends 
 and supporters. The judge is an old innocent, and 
 is honestly humbugged ; but I suppose you and I 
 know better. These rascals have run across a man 
 whom anyone but the girl who loves him would 
 mistake for the real John, but who is in fact a 
 creature of their own, secretly pledged to support 
 them in all their iniquities, and a clever orator to 
 boot. Well, they put the real man out of the "way, 
 and stick this fellow in his place. Do you begin to 
 see which way the cat jumps now? " 
 
 "Put him out of the way ?" 
 
 "In one fashion or another. I mean to find out 
 how. There are desperate men among them, and 
 John North has shown that he is a hard man to 
 subdue. If they could n t head him off in any other 
 way, they have made another Cronin case out of 
 him. This is the nineteenth centur\-, I know, and 
 we are a highly civilized people; but such things 
 do happen." 
 
 "It seems too bold; the risk is too great; I can 
 hardly believe it." 
 
 " The audacity makes it safe. The public is never
 
 THE JOHN NORTH MYSTERY. 95 
 
 inclined to believe the \vorst. Besides, John North 
 is known personally to very few persons. This 
 girl may be the only human being who can cer 
 tainly identify him. If the man still lives she will 
 be the means of saving his life. By the way, Miss 
 Carew," he added, turning to her, "did North ever 
 speak to you about any invention that he was 
 interested in?" 
 
 "He invented a car-coupling; it was when the 
 judge spoke of that last night that I knew it must 
 be my John North." 
 
 "Well, that settles it," said Sam, nodding his 
 head and getting up. "There can t be two John 
 Norths, both of \vhom invented car-couplings. 
 Miss Carew, you have made the most important 
 political stroke of this campaign. I shall be back 
 here in two hours. If I bring back the genuine 
 John North to you, will you kiss and make up with 
 him?" 
 
 "I \vill kiss you," said Ann, with a sparkle in 
 her eyes and a flame in her cheeks. 
 
 "I ll earn that kiss, or know the reason why," 
 returned Sam, with a deep respect in his voice that 
 made me love him. "Come along," he added to 
 me. "I ll show you some of the inside of New 
 York politics."
 
 96 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 We went to the east side, and stopped before a 
 modest brown-stone house in the midst of a block. 
 At the foot of the steps Sam turned to me and 
 said: 
 
 "Have you got a gun?" 
 
 "Of course I haven t. Do you expect " 
 
 "Well, I have two, and you may as well take 
 one. We may run across a gorilla, or a tiger, 
 you know. Put it in your pocket, and say no 
 more about it unless I give the word. Now, then!" 
 
 He rang the bell, and the door was opened by a 
 stout, low-browed fellow, in a black cardigan 
 jacket. 
 
 "Ah, Tom," said Sam, shouldering in past him, 
 followed by myself, who was feeling anything but 
 comfortable. "Tell the Boss I must sec him right 
 away." 
 
 "De Boss ain t at home," began the fellow; but 
 Sam cut him short. 
 
 "If he isn t at home, it ll be as much as your 
 place is worth or his either, for that matter. 
 This is biz, my lad see? That ll do ; you go back 
 downstairs, and "we ll find our way. Now, cap 
 tain." 
 
 Encouraged by this title, I followed my conduc 
 tor upstairs and into a small room in the rear,
 
 THE JOHN NORTH MYSTERY. 
 
 97 
 
 fitted up as a library. A man who had been seated 
 at a table stood up and faced us. It was Mr. 
 Ryan. 
 
 " Evening, old man," said Sam, curtly, taking in 
 the room at a glance and 
 stepping in front of a door 
 at the rear, which was partly 
 open. "Nice meeting to 
 night, was n t it? Hate to 
 bother you, but this con 
 founded election hurries 
 things up so ! It is 
 that North aifair, you 
 know." 
 
 "Glad to see you, gentle 
 men," said Ryan, with a 
 pale grin. "I really don t 
 know " 
 
 "I was sure of that. But we must go through 
 the forms, you know. Here s the warrant for your 
 arrest the bail won t be over twenty thousand. 
 Put on your coat, and we ll step round to the office 
 and get the thing fixed up and be back here in time 
 for breakfast. How s that ? " 
 
 "A warrant for my arrest? On what charge? 
 Are you aware
 
 98 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 "Oh, I say! It was a mighty smart move, but 
 we ve been onto you from the start. I was for set 
 tling it quietly, as between friends ; but I m afraid 
 it s too late now. We gave you the straight tip 
 more than once, but you wouldn t take it. You 
 can t expect to kidnap a man like that, and have 
 nobody squeal. Do you chaps want the earth? 
 Maybe you ll get it; but John North is another 
 thing." 
 
 As he uttered the last word Sam made a move 
 ment as quick as lightning, and Ryan was covered 
 by his revolver. The hand of the latter had been 
 creeping toward a drawer in the table. He with 
 drew it with a start, and sank into his chair. Sam 
 reached over, felt in the drawer, and possessed 
 himself of the other s weapon. 
 
 "It s a good make," he remarked, examining it 
 critically, and ejecting the cartridges. "I like my 
 own better, though. Well, let us get down to bus 
 iness. No funny work. What do you propose? 
 There s more things hanging over your head, Mike 
 Ryan, than there are hams on the ceiling of a cor 
 ner grocery. If anything drops, there won t be 
 enough of you left to pick up. That s all." 
 
 Ryan was silent for a minute or two. Then he 
 looked up and said politelv :
 
 THE JOHN NORTH MYSTERY. 99 
 
 "What can I do for you, gentlemen? Anything 
 in my power I shall be happy to 
 
 "It s just this, Mike; we have urgent business 
 with Mr. North not the orator, you know, but 
 the one you persuaded to go into temporary retire 
 ment. If you can produce him within a reasonable 
 time say three minutes I might contrive to 
 mislay this warrant, and then How does that 
 strike you?" 
 
 "That will be all, will it? You see, I m in an 
 accommodating mood." 
 
 "That s all; except that our oratorical friend 
 must work some other claim the further from 
 here the better for him." 
 
 "Of course you understand my position," said 
 Ryan, recovering his smoothness of manner. 
 " What was done was for the best interests of Mr. 
 North almost, I might say, at his instance. He 
 has had no practice in public speaking, and his 
 health made it unsafe for him to undertake a cam 
 paign at this inclement season. We wanted him 
 to reserve his strength for the work of the office, 
 and we fortunately found a gentleman qualified to 
 take his place on the stump as his locum tenens. 
 Meanwhile, Mr. North has been enjoying a com 
 plete rest, much to his benefit, as you will "
 
 100 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 "Just two minutes," interposed Sam, glancing 
 at his watch. " I love to hear you talk, Ryan, but 
 you know how I m fixed." 
 
 "Will you trouble yourself to call Tom?" said 
 Ryan, smiling. "I believe he has been under your 
 orders since you came here. Ask him to request 
 the gentleman upstairs to step this way." 
 
 To make a long story shorter, in half an hour we 
 had John North, the real John, not so much the 
 worse for his three weeks seclusion, safe in the 
 Carews drawing room ; and Sam had earned and 
 received his reward. What Ann and North had to 
 say to each other, I know not ; but I hear they are 
 to be married on Christmas eve. Their quarrel, I 
 understand, \vas on the matter of Ann s wealth. 
 She wanted to give it all to him, and he refused to 
 have anything to do with it. But, now that his 
 invention has been adopted, he will be at least as 
 rich as she. Thanks to the eloquence of his locum 
 tenens he was triumphantly elected, and is making 
 himself felt in his new position. The public never 
 has, and will never know how near they came to 
 losing him. Whether the "Boys " know it I can t 
 say. If they do, there are reasons why they won t 
 complain.
 
 THE JOHN NORTH MYSTERY. 101 
 
 Sam is an extraordinary man. His intuition 
 seems to be equal to his knowledge. As for that 
 warrant which he produced so pat to the occasion, 
 I have the best of reasons for believing that it was 
 only a blank form, and that Mr. Ryan was under 
 110 obligations to be so obliging as he was. John 
 North was inclined to make it hot for his quondam 
 host at first, but he was persuaded to think better 
 of it, and Mr. Ryan is still an honorable member 
 of the community.
 
 A MODEL MURDER. 
 
 ^ TN one of the streets above 
 Union Square, there is a 
 \vaxwork exhibition known 
 as the " Paradise Museum," 
 or some such name. It has an 
 ornamental facade, and the fun 
 |j begins even before you have 
 bought your ticket. Persons who 
 I, look real, but who are reallv 
 
 J 
 
 wax, stand about the ticket 
 office with intent to deceive. 
 Within are groups and single figtires, artfully dis 
 posed among the living spectators, and seeming 
 to join with them in admiration of \vaxen kings 
 and queens, statesmen and musicians, criminals 
 and authors, who are avowedly on exhibition. 
 But should you address to one of them words of 
 friendly inquiry, or ask him to make more room 
 on the bench, or to stand aside and give you a 
 chance to see something, his unresponsiveness and 
 immobility strike you, and, glancing more nar- 
 
 103
 
 104 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 rowly at him, } r ou discover that he lacks a soul. 
 The revelation gives you a shock, and you end by 
 distrusting the reality even of your familiar friends. 
 
 Finding myself the other day \vith half a dollar 
 in my pocket at the door of this paradisaical insti 
 tution, I went in to refresh my recollections of the 
 crowned heads and other eminent personages of 
 foreign lands. After exploring the rooms on the 
 ground floor, and resisting the blandishments of 
 more recondite mysteries at ten cents extra, I came 
 to a broad flight of steps leading downward. 
 Descending, I arrived in a sort of crypt, with 
 recesses and branching corridors, wherein were 
 exposed such scenes and characters as, by reason 
 of their ghastly and sinister quality, had been 
 segregated from the more cheerful assemblage 
 upstairs. In the lamplit gloom of this region a 
 dozen or more visitors were strolling about, and 
 among them I was glad to recognize my young 
 friend Mr. Alexander Cholmondely Phipps, and his 
 genial uncle, Major Foljambe. 
 
 Mr. Phipps is just twenty years old. On his 
 majority, he will come into possession of a good 
 deal of property ; his uncle in the meantime acts as 
 his guardian and trustee. The major is a Virgin 
 ian, and his military rank was won by gallant
 
 A MODEL MURDER. 105 
 
 service in the Lost Cause. lie is a hearty and 
 winning old gentleman, more of a boy than his 
 nephew, who, indeed, has the air of a man of the 
 world for whom few illusions survive. He has 
 been to Europe (Mr. Phipps has), and has seen 
 society and life on both sides of the Atlantic. He 
 plays the races moderately, drops into Daly s 
 when the other places are shut up, sips a cocktail 
 in the Hoffman House cafe, discusses with Mr. 
 Edwards the prospects of the coming mill, break 
 fasts at noon at Delmonico s, has a box or at stall 
 on first nights at the theaters, and arrays himself 
 with an assiduity and taste that prompts one to 
 rejoice that Eve ate the apple. In stature, Mr. 
 Alexander Cholmondely Phipps is not so much tall 
 as short, and more slender than massive; but 
 there is in his gait and bearing a repose and 
 dignity which more than compensate for his physi 
 cal unimportance. He is, I have been informed, a 
 terrible fellow with women, and a man to stand no 
 nonsense from beings of his own sex. His speech 
 is slow and considered, and he is unable to divest 
 himself, even in this country, of a slight English 
 accent. 
 
 Fortunate in so many respects, Mr. Phipps is 
 perhaps especially blessed in his uncle. The major
 
 106 
 
 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 not only serves as a perfect foil to his nephew, but is 
 lost in admiration of him, quotes his sayings and 
 celebrates his doings, follows him about as a child 
 follows an organ-grinder s monkey, roars at his 
 pleasantries, and backs his opinions. Major 
 Foljambe is six feet high, and weighs two hundred 
 and thirty pounds ; his garments are effusive, care 
 less and full of color ; his face is fleshy and rosy, his 
 eyes twinkle, his laugh is joyous and contagious, 
 his speech full-lunged and mellow, and soft with 
 the Virginia atmosphere. He 
 retains all the illusions which 
 Alexander Cholmondely has 
 outgrown ; and though 
 tracks about after him as 
 long as he can keep ^^ 
 awake, and does his fair 
 share of the birds, bottles, 
 and cigars, his eyes are innocent of iniquity, and 
 his heart is without guile. Altogether, the two 
 make a delectable team. 
 
 "By Gad, sah, I m glad to see you," cried the 
 major, grasping my hand. " Where ve yo been 
 keepin yo se f? Aleck and I tho t we d take in 
 the show, heah. Oh, let me make yo acquainted 
 with our friend, Lord Camovs; Aleck used to know
 
 A MODEL MURDER. 107 
 
 some of his folks abroad. They tell me this is 
 nothing alongside of Mrs. Twoso s, in London." 
 
 " Not half bad, though, " remarked Lord Camoys, 
 a reserved and well groomed young Englishman, 
 who had acknowledged the introduction with a 
 scrutinizing monocle and a slight bow. 
 
 "There s an element of er vulgarity in wax 
 works, don t you know," Air. Phipps observed, 
 touching his moustache fastidiously with the tip 
 of the ring-finger of his right hand. 
 
 "Well, I reckon yo right about that," themajor 
 assented, thoughtfully. 
 
 We were standing in front of one of a series of 
 scenes, in which is portrayed the story of a murder. 
 The impressiveness of the scene was somewhat 
 marred by the fact that a couple of workmen were 
 engaged in putting in position a new model of the 
 figure of the murdered man, the original having 
 presumably been injured. 
 
 "That s more like life than any of em, Camoys," 
 said Phipps, indicating the corpse with the handle 
 of his silver-mounted cane. "I ve seen achap shot, 
 and he looked a good bit like that." 
 The major shouted with laughter. 
 
 "Like life! Ha, ha, ha! By Gad, sah, that s 
 immense! Ain t it? Ha, ha, ha!"
 
 108 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 "The corpse was not of your own manufacture, 
 I trust, Mr. Phipps," said I. 
 
 "No," he replied, languidly. "I make a point of 
 always going armed, though. No telling \vhat 
 may happen in this country, you know, Camoys. 
 If a fellow insults you, I believe in shooting him, 
 by Jove. Call him out first, of course, and that 
 sort of thing." 
 
 "He s right," said the faithful major. "No 
 decent society possible without the code, sah. 
 Show Camoys that little gun of yo s, Aleck." 
 
 "It s er a neat little thing," said Aleck, pro 
 ducing from his hip-pocket a silver mounted, pearl 
 handled toy of death. "I ll lay I can make a bull s- 
 eye with that at twenty paces, nine times in ten. 
 Take me? " 
 
 "Don t care if I do," answered the Englishman. 
 "Hundred even." 
 
 "Done. Uncle, you hold the money. We can 
 drop into Burton s gallery on our way up town, 
 and bring it off. Haven t you had enough of this 
 hole?" 
 
 "I m with you, old chap," said his lordship. "I 
 say, by the way, I want you to stop at my hotel 
 and meet my cousin, Mrs. Cavendish. Nice girl. 
 Husband on his way to join her on the next
 
 A MODKL MURDER. 109 
 
 steamer. She s heard of you, and made me prom 
 ise to bring you. Fancy you ll like her." 
 
 "With the greatest of pleasure, old chap," 
 responded Aleck; and with that the party took 
 their leave, leaving me a good deal interested in 
 Lord Camoys. He seemed to me an unusually 
 observant and thoughtful young Englishman. 
 
 Late the next afternoon, I ran into the major on 
 the corner of Thirty-Seventh street and Fifth ave 
 nue. He grasped me as if I were a life-preserver in 
 a stormy sea. 
 
 "By Gad, my boy, this is luck. Yo just the man 
 I wanted. Come up to my rooms. Most te ible 
 thing, sah, that evah was known. Must tell yo 
 bout it. Come up! I m just bout distracted, 
 that I am, sah." 
 
 In a few minutes we "were in his sitting room. 
 The major did certainly appear to be out of order, 
 as he sank panting into a chair. 
 
 Though the weather was cool, he was perspiring 
 profusely. His gray hair was unbrushed. His 
 crimson neck-scarf was untied, and hung down over 
 his rumpled shirt front. His right boot was unbut 
 toned ; his complexion indicated sleeplessness, and 
 there was unaffected anguish in his expression. 
 His tale, in substance, was as follows :
 
 110 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 He and Aleck had parted, after the visit to decide 
 the shooting wager at Burton s gallery; Aleck had 
 lost by three points. Aleck and Camoys then went 
 to call on Mrs. Cavendish, and the major repaired 
 to his club. It was understood that the party 
 were to reunite and dine there at seven o clock, and 
 then go to the opera. At half-past seven, the 
 young men not having appeared, the major ate his 
 dinner alone, smoked his cigar, split a brandy and 
 soda with his friend Colonel Magruder, and looked 
 in at the opera. Neither Aleck nor Camoys were 
 there. Until midnight, the old gentleman strolled 
 about from one resort to another, and then went 
 home. In expectation of Aleck s return, he waited 
 up till two o clock in the morning, and then fell 
 into an uneasy sleep on the sofa. At nine A. M. he 
 was awakened by the appearance of Camoys, with 
 a very grave face. He held in his hand a sealed 
 letter, written by Aleck, and containing these words : 
 
 "DEAR UNCLE: Lord Camoys will tellyou that my life is in 
 danger, and the reason why. I am in hiding, and shall leave 
 the country on the first opportunity. Make a draft for ten 
 thousand dollars, get it cashed, and hand the money to 
 Camoys for me. For God s sake, and as you value my safety, 
 lose no time. If I am discovered before I can get off, it is all up 
 with me. Camoys will explain everything. 
 
 "Your affectionate nephew, 
 
 "ALEX. C. PHIPPS."
 
 A MODEL MURDER. Ill 
 
 The letter was dated at four o clock the same 
 morning. 
 
 Lord Camoys, on being besought by the agitated 
 major to let him know the worst, related that 
 lie and Aleck had, as arranged, called on Mrs. 
 Cavendish. "Mrs. Cavendish," Camoys had 
 observed, "is a very beautiful woman. Your 
 nephew, as you know, is a dangerously fascinating 
 man. Mr. Cavendish, her husband, was an elderly 
 man, infatuated with his young wife, and, unfortu 
 nately, insanely jealous of her. It was almost his 
 only foible, except a naturally violent and ungov 
 ernable temper." 
 
 Camoys went on to say that Aleck and Mrs. 
 Cavendish had at once taken a most extraordi 
 nary fancy to one another. It \vas, in fact, a case 
 of love at first sight. Camoys declared that he had 
 never seen anything like it. At first he became 
 amused, then uneasy, and finally he was alarmed. 
 Nothing he could say availed to restrain the mad 
 ness of the young people. They seemed to be 
 hurried quite beyond their self-control. At length, 
 in despair, Camoys had started to find the major, 
 in the hope that his influence with his nephew 
 might be effective. To his horror, at the foot of 
 the stairs, he encountered Mr. Cavendish, w r ho had
 
 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 arrived a day earlier than he had been expected. 
 Camoys tried to prevent him from going upstairs, 
 and then to delay him long enough to give warning 
 to Aleck. But it was in vain ; Cavendish became 
 suspicious, rushed upstairs, burst into the room 
 and found his wife in Aleck s arms. 
 
 A terrible scene ensued. After a torrent of violent 
 language Cavendish struck Aleck a bio win the face. 
 Aleck, who, according to Camoys, had remained 
 calm and dignified throughout, could do no other 
 wise than demand the satisfaction due to the honor 
 of a gentleman. Leaving the hotel and Mrs. 
 Cavendish they proceeded to Camoys rooms. 
 There the duel took place. Cavendish was foam 
 ing with rage; Aleck was composed. At a signal 
 given by Camoys, they fired at a distance apart of 
 ten paces. Aleck s bullet pierced Cavendish s right 
 temple, and the man fell dead. 
 
 "Good Gad, sah," moaned the major, mopping 
 his forehead and staring me piteously in the 
 face, "Did yo evah heah of anythin so te ible in 
 yo bo ndays?" 
 
 At my earnest request he resumed his narrative. 
 He had asked Camoys what disposition had been 
 made of the body. The Englishman had replied 
 that it still lay where it had fallen, in his rooms;
 
 A MODEL MURDKR. 113 
 
 and he insisted that the major should accompany 
 him thither and view it. "I am obliged to con 
 sider myself, major," he had remarked, "and lean- 
 not undergo alone the responsibility of this tragic 
 affair." He added that out of friendship for Aleck 
 and at his entreaty, he had consented to do the 
 best he could to dispose of the corpse secretly, or, 
 if possible, to feign the case to be one of suicide. 
 For the success of this plan, however, it would be 
 indispensable to buy outright a physician, a. detec 
 tive, a coroner, a judge and a newspaper; and 
 that would make a large hole in ten thousand 
 dollars. Meanwhile, the most pressing duty of the 
 moment was to remove Aleck out of the reach of 
 danger. If caught, he would unquestionably be 
 hanged, \vhich, as Camoys justly observed, would 
 be a pity, since he had behaved admirably all 
 through, and slain his man in fair fight. All this 
 while Camoys had been dragging the reluctant 
 major along to his rooms, where, at this juncture, 
 they arrived. Sick at heart, the major mounted 
 the stairs, and entered the fatal chamber. 
 
 "Nevah seen such a awful sight in my life, sah," 
 said the major. "There he lay, on his back, with 
 a hole through his head, welte iiig in his go h. It 
 made me sick, I assuah you, sah." 
 
 8
 
 114 
 
 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 "You actually saw him dead, then? "I asked, 
 not a little startled at this consummation; for I 
 confess that I had up to this time hoped that the 
 major s credulity had in some manner been played 
 upon. 
 
 "Saw him? Yo can bet yo life I saw him," 
 returned the old warrior. "An in all my wah 
 expe ience, sah, I nevah encountah d so ghastly a 
 spectacle." 
 
 It had then been close on to ten o clock, and the 
 banks were open ; the money must be drawn out 
 at once. Major Foljambe had expressed to Lord 
 Camoys a desire to see Aleck ; but the latter had 
 pointed out that, were they to go together to 
 Aleck s place of concealment, they might be fol 
 lowed by detectives, and thus 
 all their precautions be frus 
 trated. 
 
 " Your relationship to him is 
 known," the Englishman had 
 said, "and if anything has 
 leaked out, you -would be 
 tracked wherever you go. If 
 you refrain from going near 
 Aleck at present, it s certain 
 he will not be discovered through you; and if I
 
 A MODEL MURDER. 115 
 
 do n t reveal to you where he is, you will be able 
 truthfully to take your oath, if necessary, that you 
 don t know." 
 
 The major could not controvert these argu 
 ments, and they went to the bank, where the check 
 was drawn and cashed, and the money handed to 
 Camoys. The latter then left him, promising to 
 return and report progress at or before four 
 o clock. The major had waited till six, and then 
 fearing the worst, had been on his way to visit 
 the offices of all the steamship lines, when he had 
 met me. 
 
 "Let us," said I, after an interval of profound 
 consideration, "go down to Six Cent Sam s. 
 There are some features of this thing that strike 
 me as queer. If anybody can help, Sam is the 
 man. Come with me, major, and tell your tale to 
 him." 
 
 We repaired to the obscure retreat in question, 
 .and I presented the major to Sam. The latter, 
 after hearing the story, said : 
 
 "I m afraid your nephew fell into bad company, 
 major. I have heard of Lord Camoys before. I 
 guess it ll be too late to save the cash, but we will 
 probably be able to rescue Master Aleck. Take us 
 to Camoys apartments, the first thing."
 
 116 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 When we got there, the door was locked; but 
 Sam, \vho never seemed delayed or disturbed by 
 any obstacle, soon had it open. Within, all was 
 dark; Sam struck a match, and lit the gas. The 
 room thus disclosed was scantily furnished, and 
 the bare table, which stood in the center of the 
 floor, was covered with dust. At the further end 
 of the room was another door, which was closed. 
 We walked round the table, and I saw, with a 
 start, a confused object extended on the floor at 
 my feet. It seemed to be the body of a man, lying 
 on its back, with the face exposed. In the forehead 
 was a gaping wound, from which a dark stream 
 of blood had flowed downward across the cheek, 
 and matted the gray hair. It was, as the major 
 had said, a ghastly spectacle. Sam looked nar 
 rowly at it a moment, and then glanced up at us 
 with a curious low chuckle. 
 
 "Good Gad, sah?" exclaimed the horrified 
 major, "how can a man with a human heart in his 
 bosom look upon a sight like that and find any 
 thing to amu.se him ? Are you a man, sah ? " 
 
 "If I am," returned Sam, drily, "that s more 
 than this thing ever was. Besides that, I ve seen 
 it before." 
 
 "Seen it befo , sah?" cried the major, "how can
 
 A MODEL MURDER. 117 
 
 that be? Don t I tell 3-0 that the man was killed 
 only this mawnin , sah?" 
 
 "All the same, I saw this corpse as long as six 
 months ago," answered Sam, quietly. "About 
 that time, I happened to look in one day at a place 
 you may never have visited the Paradise Museum, 
 they call it. This corpse was part of an exhibit in 
 a model of a murder in the Chamber of Horrors 
 there. They have replaced it by another, I sup 
 pose, and sold this one for old junk. Your friend 
 Lord Camoys bought it, and has turned it to 
 profitable account, if, as you say, you gave him 
 ten thousand dollars for it. It was a clever trick, 
 though, and I give him credit." So saying, Sam 
 gave the thing a kick, and the waxen face sepa-r 
 rated from the mass of cl othes and the bolster with 
 which it had been connected, and the whole fraud 
 was exposed. 
 
 The major stood stupefied. "Tha must have 
 been somebody killed though," he ejaculated at 
 last. "Where s the real co pse?" 
 
 "He has lived to fight another day, I m afraid," 
 said Sam. "Perhaps Master Aleck will be able to 
 tell us something about that. Let s ask him." 
 
 "We don know wha he is, sah," rejoined the 
 major.
 
 118 
 
 SIX CENT SAM S. 
 
 " He ought not to be far off," said Sam. " These 
 
 folk s don t usually go to any unnecessary expense 
 
 in hiring rooms. Suppose you try that door, sir." 
 
 This door was also locked. The major pounded 
 
 on it. There was no response. 
 
 "Speak to him, sir," Sam advised. "Let him 
 know he s among friends." 
 
 "Aleck! Aleck, my boy!" shouted the other. 
 "It s me it s yo uncle. It s all right. Come out 
 the whole thing s a damned plant. Open the 
 do ." 
 
 A pause. Then the door slowly opened, and the 
 haggard and hollow-cheeked 
 visage of Aleck timidly peered 
 out. It was only upon re 
 newed assurances of safety 
 that he ventured forth. His 
 knees wavered beneath him, 
 and his voice was a tremulous 
 whisper. After a good deal of 
 more or less unintelligible 
 question and answer on both 
 sides, his version of the terrors 
 of the past night was elicited. 
 It was found to differ in some important particu-
 
 A MODEL MURDER. 119 
 
 lars from that prepared for the honest major s con 
 sumption by their friend Lord Camoys. 
 
 According to this statement it would appear 
 that Camoys had, indeed, introduced him to a 
 lady denominated Mrs. Cavendish, and it was not 
 long before she had given him to understand that 
 he had made a deep impression on her heart. A 
 bottle of champagne had helped forward the prog 
 ress of the passion. After a while, Camoys had 
 discreetly retired. Ere long, however, and at a 
 critical moment, he reappeared, accompanied by a 
 burly and very wrathful gentleman. Mrs. 
 Cavendish had shrieked "My husband," and van 
 ished. The man of wrath, after chasing Aleck 
 round the room in a terrible manner, swore that 
 he would have his life, and went off in search of 
 weapons, bidding Camoys guard him till his 
 return. The latter, how r ever, had very humanely 
 assisted Aleck to escape, and had hurried him to 
 his rooms. There he had informed him that his 
 only chance of life lay in leaving for Europe by the 
 next steamer ; it would be still better to make it 
 Patagonia or the Samoan Islands. Mr. 
 Cavendish, he had added, \vould never rest until he 
 had quaffed Aleck s heart blood; but the more 
 remote the wilderness into which the victim fled,
 
 120 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 the longer, of course, was that sanguinary con 
 summation likely to be delayed. Did he need 
 money? Camoys generously offered him all he 
 had in his pockets, amounting to four or five dol 
 lars ; but Aleck had pointed out that he had 
 money of his own, or which at all events was to 
 become his own, should he be fortunate enough to 
 survive a few months longer. He had then indited 
 the note which Camoys had so obligingly carried 
 to the major. Camoys had left him with the 
 friendly injunction to keep himself safe locked up 
 till his return, which would be, he said, as soon as 
 he could start off Cavendish to the North Pole, or 
 on some other false scent. Camoys had not 
 returned yet, and Aleck had been very hungry, 
 very thirsty, and dreadfully alarmed during some 
 eighteen lonely hours. 
 
 During the progress and development of this 
 touching tale the major s countenance was a 
 study. After passing through various stages of 
 crimson, it ended by becoming purple. He called 
 out: 
 
 " Wha s yo revolver, sah? " 
 
 "In my pocket, uncle," replied the youth, feebly. 
 
 "An d yo mean to tell me, sah, that yo ran 
 away from that fellow, sah, with yo tail between
 
 A MODEL MURDER. 121 
 
 TO legs, by Gad, instead of shootin him full o 
 holes, like a man an a Southron, an member of an 
 old an respected Virginia fam ly, sah ? I blush fo 
 yo , by Gad, sah. Mo ovah, yo ve been swindled 
 by a lot of o na y blacklegs, sah; they ve got off 
 with ten thousand dollahs in cash, sah ; and pon 
 my soul an sacred honah, sah, I ll petition the leg 
 islature to have yo decla ed non compos mentis, 
 sah; an if yo ever get out of the asylum fo imbe 
 ciles, yo ll be kept fo the rest of yo mis able exist 
 ence on twelve dollahs a week, sah." 
 
 This was hardly quite just on the major s part, 
 inasmuch as he too had not escaped being hood 
 winked by the too seductive Lord Camoys. But 
 the scolding will do Mr. Alexander Cholmondely 
 Phipps no harm. He puts on no high airs now, 
 and his speech has quite lost all traces of the cock 
 ney idiom. He trots about meekly in the major s 
 wake. It is he that laughs at the major s jokes 
 now, with a sad and perfunctory cackle. 
 
 As for Lord Camoys, Mr. and Mrs. Cavendish, 
 and that ten thousand dollars cash, they have not 
 yet been heard from.
 
 THE SYMPOSIUM. 
 
 S Christmas drew near, I 
 received an invitation 
 from my old friend Six 
 Cent Sam to eat a Christ 
 mas dinner at his estab 
 lishment. It was an 
 enjoyment not to be 
 foregone, and I ac 
 cepted with alacrity 
 and thanks. The hour was, eight P. M., before 
 which time the modest establishment of the 
 man of mystery had been closed for business. On 
 arriving, I found about a dozen other guests, -most 
 of whom were unknown to me. Evening dress 
 was not worn. Sam received me with his usual 
 undemonstrative but cordial hospitality, and, 
 taking my arm, led the way into the dining room. 
 We were seated at a round table, and, so far as 
 position was concerned, were therefore all on a 
 footing of equality ; nevertheless, now as at all 
 times, Sam s seat was, like Rob Roy MacGregor s, 
 
 125
 
 126 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 the head of the table. The dinner was a great, 
 good, solid feast, such as one seldom gets a chance 
 at in these degenerate times ; we had roast-beef 
 and plum-pudding, besides innumerable lesser joys; 
 plenty of sound claret and Burgundy, and, at 
 dessert, some of my friend Lorenz Reich s far-famed 
 Tokay. By the time the last course was removed, 
 every man at table felt as if he was in the enjoyment 
 of an income of $100,000 a year, with none of the 
 anxiety and distress which such an encumbrance is 
 reputed to bring with it. There was a general 
 sentiment of full-fledged content, and each man 
 looked at his brother with a feeling of good will 
 and mutual congratulation. Then Sam struck on 
 the table with his knife handle, and rose to his 
 feet amid a general murmur of applause. 
 
 "My good friends," began Sam, "I am not 
 going to make you a speech, nor shall I call upon 
 anyone else to do so. There s nothing formal 
 about this dinner ; all we want, I take it, is to meet 
 one another and have a good time. But, after 
 eating one s fill, the mind naturally turns to poetry 
 and romance. Now, I have reason to believe that 
 there are among us a number of good fellows who 
 have had experiences worth telling about, or who 
 have at least heard something that the rest of us
 
 THK SYMPOSIUM. 127 
 
 would be glad to share their knowledge of. So I 
 mean to ask them to tell us their stories, one after 
 the other; and after you are all done, and the time 
 to say good-bye comes, I will tell you the reason 
 why I have done myself the pleasure and honor to 
 ask you to meet me here to-night. Well, then, if 
 we are all ready, I will ask the gentleman sitting 
 opposite me to begin. Tragedy or comedy it s all 
 grist that comes to this mill ; and if it s to be 
 tragedy, I guess we are better able to stand it now 
 than we may be to-morrow morning." 
 
 When the applause that followed these remarks 
 had subsided, the personage whom Sam had desig 
 nated pushed back his chair, and threw his napkin 
 on the table. He was a grave and thoughtful 
 looking gentleman, and his profession, I have 
 grounds for thinking, was that of purveying to 
 publishers the material out of w r hich they supplied 
 themselves with city mansions, horses and car 
 riages, boxes at the opera, and the like necessities 
 of existence. He twisted his short beard between 
 his fingers for a few moments, and then, with his 
 eyes fixed upon an oil portrait that hung over the 
 mantelpiece, he spoke as follows:
 
 128 
 
 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 THE AUTHOR S STORY. 
 
 V -N Fifth avenue, one Sun- 
 \\ day afternoon, a year 
 or two ago, a beautiful 
 girl passed me. That 
 is no uncommon thing; 
 but a circumstance drew 
 my attention to it. She 
 had just before stopped 
 to speak with some one 
 and a smile was lingering 
 on her face as she went by me. The influence of 
 the meeting was about her like a pleasant per 
 fume, setting her momentarily apart from her 
 actual surroundings ; the thought of him was 
 with her still, imparting a tender privacy to her 
 for it seemed to me that she loved him. 
 
 I thought, "He s a lucky fellow !" and wondered 
 who he might be. He was in the crowd ahead of 
 me the smiling, well dressed, leisurely crowd that 
 flows to and fro along the avenue at that hour. I 
 had only to quicken my pace to overtake him and 
 determine what manner of man he was. A lucky 
 fellow, certainly. For she was indeed a beautiful
 
 THE AUTHOR S STORY. 129 
 
 girl. Twenty } ears in this climate gives the per 
 fection of maidenly development ; she was so 
 sweetly proportioned that her figure dwelt like a 
 musical harmony in the memory. Her grace in 
 walking gratified the eye and also the sense of sex ; 
 it was the movement of a woman, with the lovely 
 womanly differences from all that is masculine. 
 She was not a mere face and costume, but a com 
 plete creature, attractive all over. Whether she 
 were richly or simply dressed in or out of the 
 fashion I had not noticed. I felt the human love 
 liness of form and limb, as one remembers the 
 beauty of a picture or a statue. That is a rare 
 impression nowadays ; and I thought of her as a 
 foreigner foreign, at least, to dry conventions. 
 She was at all points alive, with the repose and 
 simplicity of genuine life. 
 
 This warm, fragrant quality in her, distinguish 
 ing her from the mass of handsome women, was as 
 virginal as it was feminine. Old Italian artists 
 have painted such maidens, rich in promise of pas 
 sion, but untouched as the dawn. She had the 
 auburn hair and pearly flesh of Titian, and the 
 ardent temperament, which yet, until it was 
 aroused, might be colder than the common. I did 
 not make all these observations at the moment.
 
 130 
 
 SIX CENT SAM S. 
 
 Thinking over my glimpse of her afterward, I filled 
 
 in the outlines and indica 
 tions, and made a charac 
 ter that may or may not 
 have been hers. 
 
 Meantime I had nearly 
 overtaken the man with 
 whom she had spoken, 
 and as he turned his face 
 aside I recognized him as 
 Linden the artist. I was 
 only half pleased, for, 
 although Linden could 
 tell me who the girl was, and be the 
 means of my seeing her again if I 
 wished to, I should have preferred 
 to let the whole episode remain in 
 the region of memory and imag 
 ination, when I could deal with it 
 according to my own will. Facts are apt to be 
 clumsy, especially when they are concerned with 
 beautiful women. In this prosaic age, beauty 
 forfeits a charm as soon as it becomes identified 
 with a name. I did not care to hear that this 
 auburn haired girl was some Miss Manhattan, 
 living in a certain house on the Hill, and to be
 
 THE AUTHOR S STORY. 131 
 
 dowered on her marriage with such and such a 
 fortune. I wanted to think of her as some 
 mediaeval Italian princess who had appeared to me 
 mystically for a moment and would never be seen 
 again. Linden would spoil all that, though, to be 
 sure, there was no need of my saying anything 
 to him about her. He would not be likely to vol 
 unteer information. 
 
 However, I joined him, and we asked each other 
 where we had been all this while, and what 
 we had been doing. It was, I believe, several 
 months since we had met. Linden was a man one 
 does not run across at hotels or clubs, and his vis 
 iting list \vas small ; his studio, on the other hand, 
 \vas in an out of the way locality ; so it was eas} r 
 to keep out of his way. He \vas a man of force 
 and originality, but not adaptable; not kindly 
 disposed to the fads and foibles of the day, and not 
 averse from expressing his aversion. He was nat 
 urally not popular, among his fellow-artists espe 
 cially. He would not allow that there was merit in 
 any work but the best. He declared that an artist 
 who painted anything but masterpieces \vas a dis 
 grace to the calling, and that it might be a good 
 thing to kill him. The production of pot boilers 
 was, to his thinking, rank dishonesty. It is true
 
 132 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 that he held himself to his own high standard, but 
 then he would accept no criticism save his own, 
 and he regarded himself as equal to any of the old 
 masters. 
 
 Now, self-conceit in a young painter is not 
 unheard of; the strange thing in Linden s case 
 was that his pictures were really good. There 
 was something in them to be found in the work of 
 none of his contemporaries. They were original, 
 and each painting meant something. Sometimes 
 this meaning \vould be conveyed chiefly by the 
 color, sometimes by the form, sometimes by both 
 alike. There was deep thought in them, and the 
 manipulation of a strong, penetrating, unique 
 mind. To study them was to become interested 
 not in the painting only, but in the painter too. 
 You might not always like them, but their power 
 and beauty were not to be denied. I can fancy a 
 sensitive person of a certain temperament being 
 painfully agitated by them. They had a life; they 
 suggested different things in different moods ; they 
 seemed to grow r and change from day to day. The 
 subjects treated were peculiar; sometimes land 
 scape, sometimes figure. They were dominated by 
 an intense idea, which gradually shone through 
 the composition and touched you more than the
 
 THE AUTHOR S STORY. 133 
 
 visible symbol. With all his profound insight, and 
 lofty imagination, it always appeared to me that 
 something was lacking or a wry in Lin den s charac 
 ter. There were dark, unholy traits in him. Like 
 the Persian Omar, he joined in himself heaven and 
 hell, and God as well as man. Combined with an 
 exquisite delicacy, therefore, there was occasion 
 ally a cruelty and impiety in his productions that 
 made one recoil, ns if a serpent had hissed from the 
 bosom of a flower. 
 
 His pictures are little known to the public because 
 he would not sell them (he had an independent 
 property and was not dependent on his brush), 
 and was even averse to showing them to people he 
 did not know and like. His studio was on the top 
 floor of an old fashioned house on the west side of 
 the city, belonging to himself. He was unmarried 
 I was about to say as a matter of course; at any 
 rate, I had never thought of 
 him as likely to change his 
 bachelorhood. He was able 
 enough, heaven knows, to 
 win a woman and make her 
 happy, but he looked upon 
 himself mainly as an agent for 
 the vindication and expansion of art, and sank the
 
 134 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 personal question. Had he thought the interests 
 of art demanded it, he would have married a new 
 wife every day or with the same passionate per 
 sistence, have remained chaste and celibate all his 
 lifelong. As it was, marriage was something about 
 which he did not trouble himself, save to interpret 
 its philosophic meaning in terms of art. 
 
 Well, as I said, we walked down the avenue 
 together, and soon Linden had got on some topic 
 that interested him for that matter, he would 
 never talk long on any topic that did not interest 
 him and in order to make things easier we turned 
 off at Thirty-Fourth street and went westward. 
 The noise of the crowded avenue died away and we 
 were in comparative solitude, and Linden s deep, 
 quick voice was the sound now clearly audible. 
 
 "There is a moment in every life \vhen it touches 
 its most expressive, most characteristic point. It 
 should stop there. It is a w r aste and a crime to 
 live longer." 
 
 "How are you to know when you get to it ? " I 
 inquired. 
 
 " Let your neighbors decide." 
 
 "How many people would be left alive at the 
 end of a vear?"
 
 THE AUTHOR S STORY. 135 
 
 "By the time the world is wise enough to admit 
 the truth of my principle it will be wise enough to 
 act upon it justly. And no man or woman who is 
 truly sane would care to prolong his existence 
 beyond the epoch at which he began to retro 
 grade." 
 
 "Suppose you were in love \vith a woman 
 married to her, say and you found one morning 
 that she was a shade less good looking than the 
 day before, would you, on that account, cut the 
 throat of the mother of your children and the com 
 panion of your life ? " 
 
 " The manner of your question involves a logical 
 contradiction," answered Linden. "You are put 
 ting her mere physical beauty against her mater 
 nity and wifehood her body against her soul. No; 
 but if I saw that motherhood had ceased to be a 
 supreme joy to her, and that wifehood had begun 
 to lose its glory and sanctity, I should think it time 
 for her to die, whether or not her face and form 
 were as beautiful as before." 
 
 "Before applying your principle, as you call it, 
 to other people, you had better test it on your 
 self," I remarked. "In other cases your reforming 
 zeal would be interrupted by the hangman, but if 
 you put yourself out of the way nothing more
 
 136 
 
 SIX CENT SAM S. 
 
 could be done to you than to put your obituary in 
 the newspapers. But it seems to me we are talking 
 great rubbish . What , 
 have you been 
 painting lately ?",;()] 
 
 "Come in, 
 and I ll show 
 you." 
 
 We 
 
 approach 
 whither 
 been in ad 
 accepted 
 
 1 were, in fact, 
 ing his house, 
 our steps had 
 vertently leading us. I 
 the invitation willingly. I was in 
 the vein to look at his pictures. If he had begun 
 to retrograde I might offer him his choice of wavs 
 to die. I presume Linden kept a servant, though I 
 never saw one in his house. He unlocked the door 
 and W T C went upstairs. The lower part of the 
 house was dark and silent. But the opening of the 
 door of the studio brought us to a glow of light 
 and color. Linden was not one of those artists 
 who make their studios merely a neutral back 
 ground for their pictures. The room itself was a 
 picture subtle and splendid. It was designed on 
 a scheme of color that I will not attempt to 
 describe, but its effect was to bring on a gradually
 
 THE AUTHOR S STORY. 137 
 
 increasing glow of pleasurable emotion. Colors 
 move the heart like music, though on a remoter 
 plane. Probably they are visible music, with 
 forms, too, of their own. 
 
 There \vere long drooping draperies, panels of 
 oriental tiles, rich monotones of wall, mirrors here 
 and there, and singular pieces of furniture. The 
 grouping and the light led the eye to the upper 
 end of the room w^here stood the easel, with a pic 
 ture in the frame upon it. A piece of black gauzy 
 cloth covered it like a shroud, or like the mystery 
 before birth. Linden offered me tobacco and 
 whisky, and paced about the room, smoking a 
 pipe. For several minutes he was taciturn and 
 abstracted. 
 
 "Are you awaiting inspiration ?" I asked, at 
 length. 
 
 "Inspiration is to take your life in your hand," 
 said he. "It s as dangerous as standing on a prec 
 ipice in the dark. If it s complete, you know, over 
 you go! " 
 
 "I don t quite catch your idea. Isn t inspira 
 tion what we re all after? " 
 
 "A long way after," said Linden, whose efforts 
 at humor were as lightsome and felicitous as the 
 waltzing of elephants. "I m talkingfrom my own
 
 138 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 standpoint. A full inspiration is transfiguration 
 man becomes God. If the result be perfect a 
 perfect work, that he recognizes as such it s the 
 end of him. He can never get beyond it; he can 
 never even equal it, for to the individual only one 
 true creation is possible. In other words, he has 
 passed his apogee, and the end is come." 
 
 "Oh, I see! His best picture is his death war 
 rant?" 
 
 "It s just that." 
 
 "Well, have you painted yours yet ? " 
 
 Instead of answering me, Linden went up to- 
 the easel and pulled off the veil. Then, without 
 glancing at the canvass, he took his seat in a chair, 
 with his back toward the picture and his face 
 toward me. 
 
 "Why, that s the very girl ! " was my first excla 
 mation. 
 
 "What the devil do you mean by that? * 
 demanded Linden, slowly. 
 
 I had been surprised into the statement and now 
 regretted having made it. But it was too late to 
 recede. "I passed her half an hour ago on the ave 
 nue. Just before I met her she had spoken to you. 
 So she is your model ? She is \vorth immortaliz 
 ing, and I don t know but you ve done it."
 
 THE AUTHOR S STORY. 
 
 "A curious chance ! " he muttered. "That comes 
 of gadding about. Yes, she is the basis of that 
 picture ; but no one but you and I and she thinks 
 it. And so you think I ve done it, do you? Well, 
 it was sure to come sooner or later ! " 
 
 "Who is she?" I asked. 
 
 "She is the picture. That s all you or anybody 
 else is ever likely to know." 
 
 The picture showed a girl, all but a woman, 
 seated in a broad cushioned chair \vith a back 
 ground of warm obscurity. She leaned on her left 
 elbow; the finger tips of the other hand rested lightly 
 on her right breast. Her air was profoundly 
 abstracted ; the eyes looked on yours without see 
 ing you. Her hair fell voluminously behind her 
 shoulders. The upper part of the figure was nude ; 
 across her knees a mantle was thrown. A touch 
 more would have made the picture voluptuous to 
 the point of sensuality. But the power of the 
 artist was shown in his forbearance. The girl, for 
 all the sumptuousness of her beauty, was maiden 
 hood incarnate. All life was in her potency, but 
 she was pure of all experience. Formed though she 
 was for love and passion, she had never known 
 their approach. She was a stranger to that for
 
 140 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 which she was created. She knew not even that 
 she was beautiful. 
 
 And yet what thought was it, in the depths of 
 her shadowy eyes, that withdrew her to such 
 remote regions of meditation ? What mystery was 
 she trying to solve ? Was she aware of an insuffi 
 ciency that she could not name ? Did she fancy the 
 defect was in her own nature, or that she was to 
 find its remedy elsewhere? No one can fathom the 
 mysteries of a girl s soul, nor can she herself give 
 them expression. To touch them is to annihilate 
 them. We may recognize their presence and know 
 their absence, but what thev are we can never 
 
 J 
 
 know. What is love before love begins ? 
 
 "You have painted more than your e\ es saw," I 
 remarked; after a silence. "No girl of our era will 
 be like that. It s an ideal what might be, but is 
 not." 
 
 "No; she is just that," Linden replied. "All I 
 have done is to choose the mood and the woman. 
 I call it The Day Before Love. I don t say such 
 a creature is common, in this age or in any other; 
 she may be unique. But there she is, safe as long 
 as the canvass holds together." He turned and 
 looked at it us he spoke. His face, at first gloomy, 
 gradually lighted up with a rapt, exalted expres-
 
 THE AUTHOR S STORY. 141 
 
 sion. "No greater picture was ever painted," he 
 said in an undertone, and then, more audibly, "It 
 is the greatest! " 
 
 "It is good," said I. "You have done worse, 
 and you may do better." 
 
 "I wish your criticism was worth anything," he 
 replied quietly. "The time may come when you 
 can see \vhat is now hidden from you. Taking you 
 at your own highest valuation, I can only say yoti 
 might grow up to this picture. You can never 
 grow beyond it." 
 
 "If you don t die of perfection, you ll die of con 
 ceit, my boy," I said, scornfully. "Who ever 
 heard of such a fuss over a portrait of one s favor 
 ite model? Where did you find her, by the way? 
 She s an exotic, isn t she? " 
 
 "Nobody will ever know who she is, or what. 
 She is there," pointing to the canvas, "and 
 nowhere else. For that she was born, and having 
 been the means of producing that, through me, she 
 disappears. That s all." 
 
 This absurd posing, as I regarded it, provoked 
 me. "I think you exaggerate," I said. "It was 
 strongly borne in on me on the avenue just now 
 that this young lady was in love with you, and 
 from the ardor with which you have evidently
 
 142 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 painted her portrait I should not be surprised to 
 hear that you were in love with her. The Day 
 Before Love you call it. I call it The Day 
 After. " 
 
 "If you wish us to remain friends you ll stop 
 there!" 
 
 "Don t be such a donkey, Linden, I believe you 
 are cracked. The first symptom of paresis is inor 
 dinate self-conceit. You are a clever painter, but I 
 know a dozen as good or better. You over-esti 
 mate that picture because you are gone on the girl. 
 I dare say she s a good girl, but she s a model 
 after all. If other painters haven t had her before 
 you, they will hereafter. You live so much to 
 yourself that you ve lost all sense of proportion. 
 She s no goddess and isn t going to disappear. 
 She s too good looking for that. I only hope she 
 may get comfortably married and have children as 
 pretty as she is." 
 
 "Your hopes may go for what they are worth," 
 returned Linden, with an odd smile. "You mean 
 well, perhaps, but I did wrong to bring you here. 
 You must pardon- my saying that I will be busy 
 the rest of the day, and must be alone. The pic 
 ture requires one more sitting, you see, and then 
 all will be finished."
 
 THE AUTHOR S STORY. 143 
 
 " All right," said I, getting up. "When I see you 
 next I trust you ll be in a more reasonable state of 
 mind." 
 
 "It s possible," said he, and then he accom 
 panied me down to the street door, and I heard 
 him lock it after me. 
 
 Thinking over the matter, I regretted having 
 lost my temper; but I believed that it would do 
 Linden good to have heard some plain language. 
 He had, seriously, painted a wonderful picture a 
 grand \vork of art. It was his masterpiece, no 
 doubt, and the "model was worthy of the renown 
 it \vould reflect upon him. But he was behaving 
 ridiculously, nevertheless, and deserved a little 
 snubbing. 
 
 This was Sunday. On Monday I went about my 
 affairs and Linden and his picture went out of my 
 mind. On Tuesday the papers were full of his 
 name, and, after reading the reports with groans 
 of grief and horror, I hurried to his house to do 
 whatever I could do in the circumstances. 
 
 It was thought at first to have been a case of 
 double suicide, but this I never. believed. Linden 
 killed himself, but he killed the girl first. Whether 
 he had given her warning of his purpose can never 
 be certainly known. I don t believe he did, for
 
 144 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 there were no signs of a struggle, and she was not 
 a woman to die complacently. She was found 
 carefully laid out on a divan in the embrasure of 
 the eastern window. But she had been murdered 
 on the cushioned seat where she had been posing 
 for the picture, and the blow had been struck una 
 wares and was immediately fatal. It was with a 
 weapon scarcely thicker than a knitting needle, 
 and had pierced the heart obliquely, leaving on the 
 skin beneath the left breast only a small blue mark, 
 not noticeable at a first glance. The dead girl s 
 face was quiet and happy in expression, and more 
 beautiful, if possible, than in life. It was a trans 
 figured face : the reflection of a pure, virgin spirit. 
 The face of the portrait seemed to ponder over a 
 mystery. The face of the dead was that of clear 
 vision. It looked not into a mystery, but out of a 
 mystery that was even greater. 
 
 Linden had not slain himself in the same manner. 
 After laying out the girl he had stood in front of 
 
 v^4 
 
 ^IfcS^ 
 the portrait and sent a bullet through the center
 
 THE AUTHOR S STORY. 145 
 
 of his brain. His body was found face down on 
 the floor, the revolver in his hand. 
 
 What had been his motive for committing these 
 crimes ? There was much speculation on the sub 
 ject. Some said it was jealousy ; some that it was 
 insanity. That he was insane, indeed, I have no 
 doubt ; but there was method in his madness. My 
 talk \vith him on the last day of his life gave me a 
 clue possessed by no one else. The incarnation of 
 perfect maidenhood should remain immaculate. 
 The girl whose name and origin were never dis 
 covered had reached the fulness of a spiritual 
 state, and he had resolved she should never go 
 beyond it. She should die. The type of maidens 
 fit for love, but innocent of love s embrace. She 
 should die, but, through the picture, she should be 
 immortal. Death consecrated both her and it. 
 
 Linden killed himself because he believed that his 
 highest work had been done. He could never paint 
 again as he had painted then, and he would not 
 live to be tempted to fall below that standard. On 
 his own theory, he was already dead as to the 
 power that gave him the right to live. But there 
 is another question that I have often asked myself, 
 but cannot answer. Did Linden love the girl ? Did 
 
 she love or was she ready to love him ? If so, no 
 10
 
 146 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 common tragedy was consummated on the dav 
 
 O *t j 
 
 the}- died. It was death for an ideal, and some 
 thing more an act of self-abnegation seldom 
 
 paralleled. 
 
 * * * 
 
 The story being ended, "Well," remarked a 
 ruddy faced, full bodied individual, with a bald 
 head and a white neck-scarf, in which was stuck a 
 pin of antique and curious workmanship, "Well, 
 if the gentleman s friend hadn t killed himself, and 
 if I had been on the jury that tried him, I should 
 have been inclined to vote for hanging him; such 
 self-abnegation as is hinted at is too high-strung to 
 be encouraged in the materialistic age we live in. 
 Now, it may be owing to my avocation, I am a 
 collector of curiosities of all kinds anything 
 really unique, from a live mastodon to a lost book 
 of Livy is my game, it may be, 1 say, because this 
 pursuit of mine brings me into contact with my 
 fellow creatures on their least favorable side ; or it 
 may be a general fact, I won t pretend to decide ; 
 but at all events, I have not found that self-abne 
 gation is the rule among mankind in the nineteenth 
 century. My experience is, that we all want the 
 best there is to be had at as much below its value 
 as it can be had ; and the other fellows want to
 
 THE SYMPOSIUM. 147 
 
 charge us A 1 prices for Z 26 articles, if I may so 
 express myself. My creed may lack novelty; but 
 on the score of average experience I ll back it 
 against the next man s. As an instance in point, I 
 will since yarn-spinning is the thing to-night- 
 recall a little incident that came to my knowledge 
 not long ago, and all I would like to premise 
 about it is that, under the name of the leading 
 character in the tale, I am not disguising myself. I 
 am too wily a bird to be caught by such chaff; 
 though there s no denying that the chaff was very 
 good of its kind." 
 
 Hereupon, at a nod from Sam, the round-bodied 
 gentleman pulled down his waistcoat and launched 
 into the exciting narrative given below :
 
 148 
 
 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 VIRTUOSO S STORY. 
 
 HROGMORTON RAGGETT 
 was a lean, gray haired, 
 high featured gentleman,, 
 sixty-three years old. He had 
 one ambition and one regret. 
 The ambition beset him by day 
 and night. He meditated upon 
 it in his waking hours. In his 
 sleep it often formed the tissue of 
 his dreams. These dreams uni 
 formly depicted a successful issue 
 to his desires ; but, as a matter of 
 fact thev had never been real- 
 
 J 
 
 ized. He hated to wake up in 
 the morning, because he knew 
 he would awake to disappointment ; and he hated 
 to fall asleep at night, because he knew he would 
 become the victim of deceiving visions. Thus he 
 was never at ease. The only thing to be done 
 was to labor diligently to find evidence for his 
 theory, and this labor had gradually become the 
 controlling aim of his existence. Being wealthy 
 and a bachelor, he was able to use his time as he
 
 THE VIRTUOSO S STORY. 149 
 
 pleased, and this was the way in which it pleased 
 him to use it. 
 
 As for the theory, or the ambition, for they 
 .amounted to the same thing, it possessed many 
 theoretical merits, the chief one lacking being that 
 of novelty. Air. Haggett would have preferred 
 that it should possess this also ; but he consoled 
 himself with the reflection that, if he could only 
 vindicate it, he would enjoy two triumphs : first 
 the vindication ; and secondly, that he would have 
 been the first to succeed of many who had tried. 
 His name would be rendered immortal. Only there 
 was the "if"! 
 
 The theory was, that Bacon was the author of 
 ^Shakespeare." Mr. Haggett had familiarized 
 himself with all the extant controversial literature 
 on the subject, beginning with Miss Delia Bacon s 
 * The Philosophy of Shakespeare s Plays Unfolded, 
 and coming down to the ingenious analysis of a 
 recent American student. He had, besides, copies 
 of the various original editions of the plays, and of 
 every work that bore in any way upon either 
 Shakespeare or Bacon. He had secured photo 
 graphic copies of Baconian letters and manuscripts 
 of various dates, and of all Shakespeare s alleged 
 signatures. The entire history of the Elizabethan.
 
 150 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 period was at his fingers ends. He had even got 
 ten so far as to determine exactly what it was he 
 was looking for in the way of conclusive evidence. 
 More than once he had imparted this to one of his 
 very few friends and confidants, a certain vendor 
 of second-hand books, by the name of Philemon 
 Inkpenny & Co. 
 
 "It stands to reason, Philemon," he would say,, 
 "that negotiations must have been carried on 
 between Lord Verulam and Shakespeare regarding 
 this matter. As a rule, no doubt, these negotia 
 tions would be by personal interview. But occa 
 sionally they must have been conducted by corre 
 spondence ; and although, as a measure of precau 
 tion, there would have been an understanding that 
 this correspondence should be destroj^ed, yet the 
 doctrine of chances warrants us in the belief that 
 some fragments of it have survived. And over and 
 above that, Philemon, it is to be remembered that 
 a man of Shakespeare s low and tricky character 
 would have been most apt to preserve some 
 written evidence of Bacon s authorship, to be pos 
 sibly used against him for purposes of extortion. 
 I am convinced, consequently, that some such 
 documentary evidence exists ; and, should life be 
 spared me, I will find it."
 
 THE VIRTUOSO S STORY. 151 
 
 "Bless me, Mr. Haggett," Philemon would 
 reply, cheerfully, "you re good for thirty years 
 yet! And you look to me a man to carry out 
 what you undertake, sir." 
 
 "Well, I think you may say that without flattery, 
 Philemon. Besides, my good friend, though I 
 should not say this to everyone, you understand, 
 but it is sometimes borne in on me that I am under 
 Providential guidance in this matter. I have had 
 dreams, Philemon! The other night, now, I dreamt 
 that a strange old man visited me and imparted 
 information of consummate value. A very vivid 
 dream, that was more like a vision. I should 
 know that old man s face again at once, were I to 
 meet him." 
 
 "Which I dare say you will, sir," responded 
 Philemon, as he finished inserting a title page into 
 a first edition of Reynolds "God s Revenge against 
 the Crying and Execrable Sin of Murther," from 
 which it had been missing. "And you might, as 
 like as not, find what you want hid between the 
 leaves of just some such old volume as this, sir." 
 
 "Yes, it may be so, Philemon," returned Throg- 
 morton Haggett, his gaunt cheeks flushing and his 
 small gray eyes glinting. " But, come what may, 
 the individual who affords me such hints or assist-
 
 152 
 
 SIX CENT SAM S. 
 
 aiice as shall directly result in my discovering the 
 evidence in question will receive a pecuniary 
 acknowledgment in the form of my check for ten 
 thousand dollars ! But don t mention that, Phile 
 mon," added Mr. Haggett, adjusting his specta 
 cles and regarding the bookseller with some 
 anxiety. "I should be overrun with cranks and 
 adventurers, you know." 
 
 "To be sure, to be sure," said Philemon Ink- 
 penny. "And ten thousand dollars that is a sum of 
 money ! It is a sum of money, Mr. Haggett ! " 
 
 How happened it that Mr. Haggett, rich though 
 he was, should have been moved to set 
 apart what Philemon rightly termed 
 "a. sum of money" to such a purpose, 
 especially since he was not by nature 
 of a gushing and giving dispo- (,. 
 sition ? The phenomenon 
 arose from the regret which 
 we referred to at the open 
 ing of this nar 
 rative. 
 
 Throgmorton^ 
 Haggett had 
 
 merly been young; and, while 
 in that relativelv defenseless condition, he had fal-
 
 THE VIRTUOSO S STORY. 153 
 
 len in love with Dorothy Haselfoot. The vicissi 
 tudes of that passion cannot be recounted here. 
 All was going on well, and Dorothy was look 
 ing forward with a chastened joy to becoming 
 Mrs. Haggett. But there was another young man 
 -about an artist, Gabriel Hastings. He and 
 Throgmorton had been friends since their school 
 days. He conceived a purely artistic regard for 
 Dorothy, who was a comely maiden ; and, at 
 Throgmorton s own suggestion, he undertook to 
 paint her portrait. While the portrait w-as in prog 
 ress, however, the demon of jealousy entered 
 Throgmorton s soul. There was no more warrant 
 for it than existed in the famous case of Othello vs. 
 Othello, Cassio co-respondent. It resulted in 
 unpleasant scenes, however, and finally in the rup 
 ture of the engagement. Throgmorton, who had 
 already presented his intended with a piece of real 
 estate valued at ten thousand dollars, gave her a 
 very broad hint that circumstances alter cases. 
 She, in pursuance of Ophelia s theory that rich gifts 
 seem poor when givers prove unkind, promptly 
 handed him back the title deed. A year later, she 
 and Gabriel were married a union of mutual 
 esteem, and perhaps also, on Gabriel s part, of a 
 romantic sense of honor. Thev had a daughter
 
 154 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 Edith, but no other stroke of good fortune ; and, 
 having been poor to start with, they rapidly 
 became more so. Gabriel died. His widow, at 
 the end of her resources, humbled her pride for the 
 sake of her daughter, and applied to her former 
 lover for help. He had, meanwhile, sold the piece 
 of real estate for fifteen thousand dollars. Never 
 theless, he refused Dorothy s request, in a letter of 
 which few high-minded gentlemen would have 
 wished to be known as the author. Dorothy died, 
 and Edith disappeared. As years went by, and 
 Throgmorton Haggett grew richer and richer and 
 more and more lonely, the regret above mentioned 
 began to haunt him. He wished he had not 
 recalled that gift often thousand dollars. He even 
 advertised for Edith, with a view to making resti 
 tution ; but nothing came of that. The ten thou 
 sand dollars lay heavy on his conscience. At last, 
 to ease the weight, he actually deposited that sum 
 in the bank, with a view to disposing of it accord 
 ing to the contingency he stated to Philemon Ink- 
 penny. Of course, it was possible that the contin 
 gency might not arise; but what more could he 
 do ? And meanwhile he was drawing interest on 
 the sum, just the same.
 
 THE VIRTUOSO S STORY. 
 
 155 
 
 One morning, while Mr. Haggett was in his 
 study, critically com paring a paragraph in Bacon s 
 "Advancement of Learning," concerning the 
 impropriety of putting young men to the study of 
 moral philosophy, with a somewhat parallel pas 
 sage in "Troilus and Cressida," Act II, scene 2, a 
 servant knocked at the door and informed him 
 that there was an elderly party who wished to 
 know if he might see him on a matter of business. 
 The party was admitted. 
 He was a venerable individual, 
 about seventy years of age 
 apparently, decently but 
 i poorly clad, and carrying 
 under his arm a bundle tidily 
 done up in an old newspaper. He performed a cer 
 emonious obeisance, and spoke as follows : 
 
 "Mr. Haggett, I hope the object of my intrusion 
 may excuse my intruding. My name is Christo 
 pher Crumblehorne. I have been a student, like 
 yourself; but I am poor. During my life, I have 
 collected a good many books, old books, Mr. 
 Haggett, including some rare early editions of the 
 Elizabethan poets. I am informed that you are 
 interested in Shakespearian researches. I have 
 here" he had been undoing his bundle as he
 
 156 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 spoke, and now produced an antique and worm- 
 eaten volume bound in brown leather "a copy of 
 plays by Christopher Marlowe, dated, as you see, 
 1611. As you are aware, Marlowe is reputed to 
 have collaborated on certain of the plays ascribed 
 to Shakespeare." 
 
 All this while, Haggett had been staring at his 
 visitor as if he were a phoenix, a spectre, or some 
 other improbable phenomenon. The longer he 
 vStared, the more amazed and bewildered did he 
 appear. Well, it is certainly not often that one has 
 better cause to be surprised ; for this old gentleman 
 presented neither more nor less than the living 
 counterpart of the personage whom Mr. Haggett 
 had beheld in his dream, as related to Philemon 
 Inkpenny ! Was the rest of the vision, then, to be 
 confirmed? He took the book with a trembling 
 hand. He turned over the leaves mechanically, 
 hardly aware of what he was doing. The volume 
 was not in very good condition. Here and there, 
 passages were interlined in faded ink. Its original 
 owner had evidently read it thoroughly; and with 
 critical if not sympathetic interest. Still it was 
 not obvious how any enlightenment could proceed 
 from it as to the true authorship of Shakespeare s 
 dramas. Mr. Haggett overcame his agitation
 
 THE VIRTUOSO S STORY. 157 
 
 sufficiently to make some remark to this effect to 
 Mr. Christopher Crumblehorne. 
 
 "Possibly," the latter replied, "but have you 
 carefully examined the title page ? " 
 
 Mr. Haggett turned to it. At first, he glanced 
 at it carelessly. After a moment, he started and 
 his face became red. He stole a strange look at 
 his visitor. He snatched off his spectacles, rubbed 
 them, and looked again. Anon, he laid the book 
 on the table, reached for a huge magnify ing-glass, 
 and studied the page intently. Finally, he laid 
 down the glass, leaned back in his chair, and con 
 templated Mr.^Crumblehorne several moments in 
 silence. 
 
 "May I ask, sir, how you obtained this vol 
 ume?" he inquired, at length. 
 
 "At a second-handbook-shop in London, just off 
 the Strand, in 1856," replied the other, com 
 posedly. "I thought it might interest you." 
 
 "A signature of William Shakespeare s !" mut 
 tered Mr. Haggett. "Why, it s an historical event ! 
 And this book was his ! But it can t be ! Can it 
 be genuine?" 
 
 "I have gradually arrived at that conviction 
 during the four-and-thirty years that it has been 
 in my possession," ans\vered the old gentleman.
 
 158 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 "I have here," he added, "noted down some of the 
 reasons that go to confirm me in my opinion. A 
 glance at them will put you in possession of my 
 train of argument. Pray take your own time." 
 
 He handed the other several closely written 
 pages of blue note-paper. Mr. Haggett perused 
 them with absorbed attention. After ten or fifteen 
 minutes, he raised his head and passed a hand over 
 his forehead. 
 
 "And do I understand that you wish to dispose 
 of this book, sir?" he said, in a slightly tremulous 
 voice. "What value do you put upon it ?" 
 
 "I sell it reluctantly, " replied the old man, 
 because I am old and need money to support life. 
 My price for it is one hundred dollars." 
 
 Mr. Haggett concealed his emotions by a violent 
 effort. He had expected to have to pay at least a 
 thousand. After a pause, he faltered out: 
 
 "I might give you fifty." 
 
 Mr. Crumblehorne rose. "I cannot accept it," 
 he said, with a sigh. "I named my lowest figure. 
 If you cannot afford it, I must try elsewhere." 
 And he put forth his aged hand and laid it upon 
 the book. 
 
 "Well, well," said Mr. Haggett, hastily, "after 
 all, I may as well stretch a point. It is an extrav-
 
 THE VIRTUOSO S STORY. 159 
 
 -agance; but, to a brother student I will write 
 you a check. But a hundred dollars! Suppose 
 we say seventy-five ? " 
 
 The old man shook his head. "A hundred or 
 nothing." 
 
 Mr. Haggett wrote the check. Mr. Crumblehorne 
 pocketed it in a serene, methodical manner, bowed 
 and withdrew. Mr. Haggett spent the rest of the 
 day hanging over his treasure. That evening, he 
 received a letter that agitated him on other 
 grounds. It was signed Edith Hastings the long 
 lost daughter of his old love. It recounted the 
 leading facts of her history since her mother s death. 
 She had, it appeared, developed a fine soprano 
 voice, and had found a patron who defrayed the 
 expense of training it. She had sung with success 
 in concert in England and on the Continent, and 
 was now in America with a snug little fortune. 
 She had accidentally learned that her mother s old 
 friend so she called him was living in Philadel 
 phia, and would do herself the pleasure of calling 
 on him. She appointed the next day for her visit. 
 
 She came, saw, and conquered Throgmorton 
 Haggett. And well she might, for she was a young 
 woman of beauty, talent, and vivacity. More 
 over, she soon conceived a most flattering regard
 
 160 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 for the elderly student, and showed an intelligent- 
 interest in his pursuits. He presently insisted 
 upon her and her maid s taking up their abode in 
 his home. Before she had been there a week he had 
 intimated to her that, if she would remain per 
 manently his guest and give up her public career, 
 he \vould make her his heiress. She did not give an 
 unconditional assent to this proposition, for it was. 
 easy to see that the applause of audiences had 
 become dear to her ; but neither did she absolutely 
 refuse. Meanwhile, she staid on. She entered 
 into all Mr. Raggett s ways of life. She helped 
 him in his investigations. She encouraged him to 
 persevere. He had never in his life been so happy. 
 His conscience was at ease. His hopes were 
 brightened. He began to feel a young man again. 
 Nay, he even began to ask himself, whether a well- 
 preserved and wealthy gentleman of sixty-three 
 might not with success propose a matrimonial 
 alliance with a gifted and charming young lady of 
 five-and-twenty ! 
 
 "Have you noticed, m on ami" she said, "that 
 there is something odd about the binding of this 
 book?" 
 
 She was sitting in the eas} T -chair in the embra 
 sure of the study window, dressed in an adorable
 
 THE VIRTUOSO S STORY. 
 
 161 
 
 neglige. Her bare, polished arms emerged from 
 
 the half sleeves ; *d^l her white throat was fully 
 y^SsSr 
 
 revealed,rs$)Cl$r 1$ with the delicate necklace of 
 
 ed coral round it, the 
 ift of her devoted 
 Throgmorton; one 
 knee was thrown over 
 other, causing the 
 fled hem of her 
 coat to dis- 
 a tapering 
 ankle and 
 foot shod in a high- 
 French slipper. In her 
 fragrant lap was the old volume of Marlowe s 
 plays. 
 
 The scholar rose from his desk and came over to 
 her, glad of a pretext to be in contact with her 
 dainty loveliness. He placed a chair close to her 
 own, adjusted his spectacles, and bent over her. 
 "And what is there odd about the binding, my 
 dear? " he said, tenderly. 
 
 "Why, see: this paper that is pasted on the 
 inside of the back cover is cracked all along the 
 inside edge. And look: the cover seems to be 
 double, as if there were a sort of pocket in it, such
 
 162 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 as one sees inside the lid of a desk. Give me your 
 paper-knife yes, there is a pocket; and I do 
 believe " 
 
 "Edith!" broke in Throgmorton, in a high, 
 quavering voice, "let me give me what is this? 
 My stars ! has it come at last ? " 
 
 With hands shaking as \vith a palsy, he tore out 
 the paper lining, he tore open the pocket, he drew 
 from it what? A faded, stained, fragile, 
 embrowned fold of letter paper. He began to 
 unfold it, but his nerves were too much unstrung. 
 "You you he said, faintly, holding it out to 
 Edith. 
 
 She opened it deftly with her tapering white 
 fingers. 
 
 "What can it be, I wonder? Such a queer old 
 handwriting ! I m not sure I can make it out. Let 
 me see it begins: Gray s Inn, y e MDC oh, 1611 
 no, that sin another line y e Fourth Day of March, 
 1611. Goode Master dear me, what is this? 
 S-h-a why, I do believe it is yes, it is 
 Shakspere ! Goode Master Shakspere ! Oh, is n t 
 this interesting? " 
 
 She looked up with a brilliant smile. Mr. 
 Haggett was deadly pale. "It has come!" he 
 murmured, with dry lips. "My dream is fulfilled;
 
 THE VIRTUOSO S STORY. 163 
 
 my reputation is secure forever ! Give it to me; I 
 can read it now. Yes, here is the signature Fr. 
 Bacon. A letter to William Shakespeare from 
 Francis Bacon ! Edith, I am the most famous 
 man in the civilized world to-day. Yes, yes, yes ! 
 Listen to this : 
 
 "Gray s Inn, y e Fourth Day of March, 1611. 
 " GooDE MASTER SHAKSPERE: My health hath been suche 
 this past Spring, as that I did nigh despaire of compassing ye 
 Work, the whiche is herewith incloased. Briefly, I commend 
 myself to your Love, and that you shall with all proper dilli- 
 gence make me a fair coppy thereof, after y e same maner as 
 alwaies heretofore. Concerning y e name or title of this 
 present Drama, I doe find myself in some debate; yet methinks 
 that of " Othello" will serve as well as another, albeit " Des- 
 demona" likewise hath a faire sounde. Yet will I declare for 
 y e first. So, with affection for your past services, and desiring 
 you toe be goodeto alle concealed Poets, I continue your verie 
 greatful, FR. BACON. " 
 
 After finishing the letter Throgmorton Haggett 
 folded it gently up again and laid it reverently on 
 the table. "Edith," he said, solemnly, "this is the 
 culminating moment of my existence ; it is a turn 
 ing point in the history of the world. After three 
 centuries, the truth is at last known, and through 
 me ! To-morrow all the world will ring with the 
 discovery which is yours and mine alone to-day. 
 That letter is, beyond all comparison, the most
 
 164 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 important the most valuable document in exis 
 tence. As you perhaps know, Othello, accord 
 ing to the most trustworthy indications, was 
 written about 1611. Bacon wrote it ; Shakespeare 
 copied it without blotting a line, no doubt, as the 
 saying was. Edith, my dearest Edith, let me cele 
 brate this triumph by kissing your lovely hand ! 
 
 Edith accepted the caress with infinite grace and 
 complaisance. "But, mon cher," she said, "is not 
 this the book that you bought of that old gentle 
 man with the curious name? " 
 
 " Christopher Crumblehorne ? Yes, that is so. I 
 paid him his full price for it one hundred dol 
 lars." 
 
 "You paid him for the book, mon cher, but not 
 for the letter ! And were you not telling me only 
 yesterday that you had set aside an immense sum 
 of money, ten thousand dollars, for the person who 
 should bring you evidence in support of your 
 theory ? Surely this Mr. what was his name ? 
 has done this ; and you are bound to hand him 
 over the bequest. Am I not right ? " 
 
 She laid her soft hand on his and looked up in his 
 face. Mr. Haggett s features had begun to assume 
 an embarrassed expression, but, under the influence 
 of those glorious eyes, they gradually softened.
 
 THK VIRTUOSO ,S STOKY. 165 
 
 "Edith," he cried at last, "Edith, I will do it! 
 But on one condition: one condition, dearest- 
 dearest of women!" 
 
 "And what is that? " she asked, sweetly. 
 
 "That you consent to remember, Edith, that I 
 am not only rich as men rate riches, but henceforth 
 the equal in distinction of any potentate on earth. 
 Edith let this hand which I now hold be mine forever! 
 Be my wife ! Believe me, that, as Mrs. Throgmorton 
 Haggett, you will be the envy and the glory of 
 your sex, in renown, as you already are in fact! 
 Edith, I might once have been your father; fate 
 denied me that ; it is for you to compensate that 
 loss by permitting me to become your husband ! " 
 
 "Dear Mr. Haggett," she replied, looking him 
 frankly in the face, "I feel your kindness and the 
 great honor you offer me, and you have no doubt 
 observed that I have regarded you with no ordi 
 nary interest ; and yet I am hardly prepared to 
 settle the whole future course of my life at a 
 moment s notice." She hesitated and looked down. 
 
 " Do not refuse me ! " urged he. "I will make any 
 arrangements you \vish. Half two-thirds of my 
 fortune shall be yours on my wedding day ! " 
 
 "It is not your fortune that moves me, mon cher. 
 But," she added, again placing her hand in his, "I
 
 166 six CKXT SAM S. 
 
 \vill make a stipulation call it a "woman s whim, 
 or say that I wish to test the nobility of soul that 
 I am morally convinced is yours. Send this money 
 to old Mr. Mr. you know whom I mean. He is 
 old and poor; it will enable him to pass the 
 remainder of his days in ease and comfort. Sit 
 down now and write the check for him. Enclose it 
 to him and give me the letter. I am going out to 
 take my morning constitutional with my maid. I 
 will put the letter in the registered mail. And 
 when I come back, mon cher, my dear 
 Throgmorton it will be to fix the day on which 
 we can be happy ! " 
 
 There is little left to tell, but that little is not 
 unimportant. The check was written. It cost the 
 writer a pang, but it was done. Edith, with a 
 smile of heavenly promise, put it in her reticule and 
 sallied forth wnth her maid. She was due to return 
 at lunch. She did not arrive. The afternoon 
 passed. Dinner-time came. Mr. Haggett had 
 passed through the stages of anxiety, alarm, mis 
 giving. He was now in a frenzy of panic. The 
 servant brought in a note. From her! 
 
 He tore it open. It is not often that a man has 
 the fate to read, in one and the same day, a letter 
 from Bacon to Shakespeare and such an epistle as
 
 THE VIRTUOSO S STORY. 167 
 
 this from Edith to her elderly lover. It ran as fol 
 lows : 
 
 " Mon cher, we are gone. By we, 1 mean my husband, 
 im-self, and yotir ten thousand dollars. My husband is the 
 gentleman known to you as Christopher Crumblehorne. That 
 is not his real name ; neither is he so old, by some forty years, 
 as he appeared to be during your interview with him. He is an 
 actor, and has few rivals in his make-up for elderly characters. 
 As for me, I am indeed the Edith whose mother you wronged 
 and left to starve. I have supported myself by my own tal 
 ents, and I have, with the assistance of my husband, paid off 
 an old score on you. This money I hold to 
 be rightfully mine; my conscience will never 
 reproach me with the manner in which I 
 chose to possess myself of it. You offered 
 me half your fortune. I took ten thou 
 sand dollars. We are quits. As to the 
 authorship of Shakespeare, I advise you 
 to consult an expert before announcing 
 3 our discovery to the world. When I 
 return, I will be yours. Meanwhile, 
 with cordial good wishes, I subscribe 
 
 " Your obliged 
 
 It s all clear enough, except as to that dream of 
 Mr. Raggett s, and that has remained a mystery 
 
 to this day. 
 
 * * * 
 
 The round-bodied gentleman, having finished his 
 tale, poured out a glass of wine and drank it, with 
 a twinkle in his eve. Sam said :
 
 168 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 "That s a very entertaining storv, sir, but it 
 strikes me that it disproves the very theory you 
 meant to illustrate by it." 
 
 "How so, sir?" demanded the virtuoso, throw 
 ing one arm over the back of his chair. 
 
 "Because, if it had been so commonplace a thing 
 as you pretend for people to plot to get the better 
 of one another, }^our story would have appeared 
 commonplace, too ; instead of which we all found 
 it quite novel and interesting." 
 
 "Why, sir, I never heard a more preposterous 
 argument," exclaimed the virtuoso, pulling up his 
 collar. 
 
 "You have had your say, sir," interrupted Sam, 
 smiling upon him with a peculiar arch expression ; 
 <1 and unless you yield to the chair, I shall further 
 illustrate the emptiness of your theory by telling 
 the company who it was that gave the order to fit 
 out all the newsboys in New York with a new pair 
 of boots." 
 
 At this the round-bodied gentleman grew crim 
 son, and, in his confusion, attempted to drink out 
 of the glass that he had just emptied. Meanwhile, 
 Sam turned to a youngish man with short side 
 whiskers, who looked like a well-to-do broker, and 
 was in fact, I believe, an electrical engineer.
 
 THE ELECTRICAL ENGINEER S STORY. 
 
 169 
 
 "Suppose you give us that incident about your 
 friend Norton," said he. 
 
 The youngish man started, and seemed embar 
 rassed ; he murmured something about not being 
 accustomed to addressing a general audience ; but 
 as Sam showed no symptoms of an inclination to 
 let him off, he cleared his throat nervously, and 
 began in these words : 
 
 THE ELECTRICAL ENGINEER S STORY. 
 
 T wavS Norton himself who told me 
 the story. Norton, as you kno\v, 
 is a physician and a specialist in 
 nervous and mental diseases. 
 His cast of mind is skeptical, or 
 at least severely logical. I am 
 sure that he would have discred 
 ited ,the thing if anybody had 
 told it to him. Indeed, it is doubt 
 ful if he altogether accepts it even as it is. He 
 cannot explain it, and he is accustomed to 
 reject whatever he cannot explain. Nevertheless, 
 since it happened to himself he is in a dilemma. A 
 man in a normal condition of health and mind hes 
 itates to disbelieve thetestimonvof his own senses.
 
 170 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 Hallucinations are, of course, the result of sonic 
 functional derangement. But when an impossible 
 things happens, what are YOU to do? Mind, I 
 say when it does happen in your own experience. 
 You are precluded on the one hand, from denying 
 that it did happen ; while on the other, an impos 
 sibility is always an impossibility. 
 
 Norton, I fancy, habitually avoids thinking of 
 the matter at all. He is in an attitude of "sus 
 pended judgment." If some discovery, psycholog 
 ical or physiological, were to turn up, throwing 
 light upon the subject, I daresay he would take up 
 the Trafford affair with scientific enthusiasm, and 
 make it the theme of a learned disquisition. But 
 meantime he lets it lie as something there is no 
 use in puzzling over. He gave the narrative to me 
 one evening in the freedom of an intercourse which 
 began when we were boysiii college together, more 
 than a quarter of a century ago, and has continued 
 ever since. I am rather fond of a good ghost 
 story, and have told more than one in my time, 
 and Norton has smiled indulgently at them. But 
 nothing that I ever imagined is stranger than this 
 which he experienced. He has the advantage of 
 me, and I take off my hat to him.
 
 THE ELECTRICAL ENGINEER S STORY. 171 
 
 You are at liberty to make whatever use you 
 like of the hypnotic theory. Norton was one of 
 the first physicians in New York to take up hyp 
 notic experiments with a view to applying the 
 principle in his practice. He is a first-rate opera 
 tor; he has hypnotized hundreds of persons. He 
 found the effects good in several kinds of affections, 
 but he seldom employs the treatment now for the 
 reason (as I understand it) that he has never been 
 able to satisfy himself just how, or in what cases 
 it succeeds ; and whether it may not be folio-wed 
 by remote consequences more or less undesirable. 
 But at the time of the Trafford episode he was still 
 in the midst of his researches, and she herself was 
 frequently hypnotized by him. 
 
 I do not know precisely what her disorder was ; 
 at all events, it confined her to her bed ; and Nor 
 ton had little expectation of curing her. She could 
 neither -walk nor stand, and she occasionally suf 
 fered severe pain. She was, Norton said, a very 
 interesting girl, and it was the greatest pity in the 
 world that she should be a helpless invalid. Her 
 mind was no common one. She had not had much 
 personal experience of the world, for she had been 
 "out" only two or three years when she was 
 taken ill ; but during her illness she had speculated
 
 172 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 deeply and boldly about life, and about what may 
 follow death. 
 
 "She had the most logical brain I ever met with 
 in one of her sex," observed Norton; "and I am 
 not one to underrate women, either. Some of the 
 results at which she arrived were startling, but it 
 was hard to find a flaw in her method of reasoning. 
 One of her ideas was that, assuming the existence 
 of a spirit in man, there is no a priori reason why 
 it should not become visible outside of the body, or 
 even after bodily dissolution. On the contrary, it 
 was surprising that this did not occur constantly. 
 The spirit is the mind ; w r hy should not the mind 
 disembodied be perceptible to the mind embodied ? 
 The physical eye does not see it is only the medium 
 of sight; and it is only material objects that are 
 visible through that medium. But why may not 
 the real eye act without the intervention of this 
 medium, and take cognizance of things on its own 
 plane of being? I objected that there might be 
 nothing for it to take cognizance of; if embodi 
 ment meant anything, it meant that the spirit was 
 not on its own plane, and could not, therefore, 
 be reached by the real eye. She replied that 
 hypnotism indicated that the mind could be tem- 
 .porarily dissociated from the body, and justified
 
 THE* ELECTRICAL ENGINEER S STORY. 173 
 
 the proposition that a means might exist, or be 
 discovered, to produce this dissociation at one s 
 own pleasure. She added (\vhatisquitetrue) that 
 we fail to see a great many things because we 
 do n t look for them, or expect them. The train 
 ing of the will in this direction might have results. 
 She said one thing that was curious; I don t 
 remember having heard it elsewhere. She said 
 that after emerging from the hypnotic trance, she 
 had no knowledge or recollection of what she had 
 done or said, as to her physical manifestations, 
 while the trance lasted. But she did often have a 
 recollection, more or less obscure, of having under 
 gone experiences altogether outside of the physical 
 plane. In other words, the life that animated her 
 body during the trance was something distinct from 
 the metaphysical ego; the latter was free, and 
 rambled about, so to speak, on its own hook. She 
 was annoyed that she could recall so little of her 
 ego s excursions ; she accounted for it on the hypoth 
 esis that, in the normal state, only the physical 
 memory was operative. But she had hopes that 
 by practice, or will, she would finally be able to 
 compel the ego to render an account of itself. 
 There was something uncanny about the whole 
 idea; but it had a fascination."
 
 174 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 Norton talked about the fascination of her ideas; 
 but I think she exercised over him a warmer fasci 
 nation than belongs to the intellect alone. In fact 
 he admitted that she was a beautiful woman, and 
 their relations, necessarily intimate, were enlarged 
 and beautified by mutual confidence. She had 
 everything that wealth could give ; but the con 
 viction that her health could never be restored 
 must have made her sensible of the irony of fate. 
 She could not well have helped feeling a more than 
 common affection for Norton ; as her physician, he 
 was doing for her all that science could do ; but he 
 was personally, when he so chose, one of the most 
 winning men I ever knew. He had profound expe 
 rience of the worth, humor, insight and various 
 charm of talk. He is a bachelor, and, being now 
 forty-five years old, is likely to remain one. But if 
 Sybil Trafford had lived I am disposed to believe 
 that he would have been a married man and hap 
 pier than he is now^. 
 
 Norton had a strong bent toward scientific 
 investigation, aside from the direct line of his pro 
 fession. He vStudied electricity deeply, and made 
 many improvements in the electrical transmission 
 of messages and sounds, which \vill come into use 
 when certain existing patent-monopolies have
 
 THE ELECTRICAL ENGINEER S STORY. 175 
 
 expired. But the most attractive to the imagina 
 tion of his ideas was that of freeing diamonds from 
 discoloration that is to say, transforming inferior 
 stones into gems of the first water. He believed 
 that the discoloration was caused by the presence 
 of iron at the moment of crystallization, and 
 he devised a process by which this tint could be 
 expelled, or concentrated in one corner of the 
 stone, which could then be filed off. But this pro 
 cess could be rendered certain and practical only 
 by a long and careful course of experimentation, 
 involving great expense and consuming an indefi 
 nitely long time. He was unwilling to neglect his 
 profession for the sake of even so promising an 
 enterprise as this. Besides, he was interested in the 
 scientific more than in the commercial part of the 
 matter; he had no need of money, and no one was 
 dependent on him. One day, however, a circum 
 stance caused him to reconsider the question. 
 
 Sybil Trafford had been made the confidant of 
 the diamond theory, as, I suppose, she was of most 
 of his affairs ; and one day, during his visit to her, 
 she had her jewel-box brought in, and showed him 
 a large stone, weighing, in its rough state, some 
 sixty or seventy carats, but which was of a dark 
 yellow hue, and therefore of comparatively slight
 
 176 
 
 SIX CENT SAM S. 
 
 value. In other respects it was a fine crystal, and 
 its shape was such that it might be cut as a bril 
 liant without Teat loss of weight. Had it been 
 rst water, it would have been 
 small fortune. 
 
 "Do you think you could 
 \\ p u r i f y that ? " she 
 asked him. 
 
 I 
 
 "I suppose 
 j? might," he said. 
 
 "Do, then," she 
 returned, handing it 
 to him ; "and when 
 I get well I will 
 wear it as the pendant to my necklace." She 
 smiled as she said it ; and he smiled, too, but 
 sadly ; for they both knew that it would be far- 
 easier to put light into the diamond than to put 
 strength and life into her. 
 
 "I wish," he remarked, "that you were a 
 diamond." 
 
 "What \vould you do with me? " 
 
 "I would have a ring made and set you in it." 
 
 "And what would you do with the ring? " 
 
 "Wear it as long as I lived." 
 
 "And what then?"
 
 THE ELECTRICAL ENGINEER S STORY. 177 
 
 "Be buried with it, I suppose." 
 
 "I think it s better as it is," said she, smiling 
 again. " Diamonds have no souls. After you were 
 buried ages after some one would come and 
 pick me out of the mold and appropriate me. But 
 I have a soul, and some day or other you and I 
 will meet, and there will be no talk of burying." 
 
 Norton took the diamond home with him, and a 
 few days after he subjected it to his process, though 
 without any particular expectation of a successful 
 result. He tried first one proportion and then 
 another, and tested it with various degrees of mag 
 netic force, but neglected to take due note of the 
 steps of his procedure. 
 
 In the midst of his work he was called away, 
 and left the stone in position. It was not until 
 the next day that he remembered it. On going to 
 examine it, he found that it had become pure white 
 save for a black spot at one end, not much bigger 
 than the head of a pin. The correctness of his 
 theory was established ; but, thanks to his care 
 lessness, he did not know how it had been accom 
 plished, and could not, therefore, reproduce the 
 result. This was annoying; but there, neverthe 
 less, was Sybil s diamond as brilliant and faultless 
 as the Kohinoor itself. He ground away the
 
 178 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 black spot, and carried the gem back to his patient 
 the same afternoon. 
 
 "I have cured it," said he, "and now you must 
 get well, too." 
 
 " How did you do it ? " she asked, after admiring 
 the transformation. 
 
 "I don t know. Probably that is the only suc 
 cessful attempt I shall ever make." 
 
 "No, you ought to find it out," she replied. "If 
 you had invented a way of making diamonds I 
 should not wish you to practice it, for then their 
 preciousness would be destroyed. But it seems 
 only right that sick diamonds should be made well; 
 it is more in the way of your profession, too ! " 
 
 It so happened that a week or two later Norton 
 was consulted by a man by the name of Scara- 
 manga, who was suffering from insomnia. He 
 was a Hollander, of Spanish or Portuguese 
 descent, and an odd sort of personage. His height 
 was extraordinary, owing to the disproportion 
 ate length of his legs, but he was narrow shouldered 
 and reedy of figure, and his head was small enough 
 for a boy of ten. It was adorned, however, with 
 an abundant thatch of coal-back hair; his eye 
 brows \vere bushy, his nose prominent, and his
 
 THE ELECTRICAL ENGINEER S STORY. 
 
 179 
 
 mustache and goatee \vere as fierce as those of Don 
 Quixote himself. 
 
 Mr. Scaramaiiga was a voluble talker, and it 
 presently transpired that he was learned on the 
 subject of precious stones, 
 and had turned his knowl 
 edge to commercial advan 
 tage. He was, in fact, by 
 his own account, agent for 
 a large firm of jewelers in 
 Antwerp. He talked in a 
 large and grandiloquent 
 vein, and entertained Nor 
 ton not a little, for the 
 latter was fond of a highly 
 flavored character, and had 
 a good sense of humor. 
 But at length Scaramanga 
 chanced to say that he had 
 an invention for improving 
 the water of off color stones 
 and then Norton became 
 curious. He asked him how 
 he did it. Scaramaiiga re 
 plied by shaking his head 
 and laying his long forefinger craftily beside his nose.
 
 180 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 "It is worth a million dollars a year to know 
 that," quoth he. "Do you wish to buy the secret 
 of me ? Well, for ten millions I sell him ! " 
 
 "Fiddlestick! " exclaimed Norton, with a laugh. 
 "If you have really discovered the process, of 
 course you ve patented it, and so might disclose it 
 without fear. But I don t believe you know any 
 thing about it. There is only oneway of doing the 
 thing, and I have reason to think that no one but 
 myself knows what that is." 
 
 "You!" exclaimed the other, changing counte 
 nance. "Pardon me, sir, but how shall a doctor 
 know anything about diamonds? " 
 
 "Doctors know everything in this country. It 
 is not mam^ days since I turned a sixty-carat 
 brown stone as white as a water-drop in the sun 
 shine." 
 
 This led to a conversation, whereby two things 
 were elicited ; first, that Scaramanga really had no 
 knowledge of the secret of which he had boasted ; 
 and, secondly, that he wasconsumedly anxious to 
 learn what Norton s process was. But on that 
 point Norton declined to be communicative. 
 Finally Scaramanga made a business proposition. 
 If Norton would agree to perfect his method of 
 treatment, and take out a patent for it,
 
 THE ELECTRICAL ENGINEER S STORY. 181 
 
 Scaramanga would bring a certain capitalist and 
 friend of his, Wimbush byname, who "would put up 
 any required amount of money. The three would 
 form themselves into a company for the purifica 
 tion of gems, Wimbush and Scaramanga paying 
 all the expenses and doing all the work ; while all 
 that would be required of Norton would be to 
 accept fifty-one per cent of the stock, and to draw 
 his receipts therefrom. 
 
 This seemed a fair enough offer, and Norton con 
 sented to take it under consideration. He was in 
 no need of money ; his practice brought him in a 
 large income ; but he knew of many ways in which 
 he could apply a great fortune to schemes of value 
 and interest to medicine. Scaramanga brought 
 Wimbush and introduced him ; abroad, fat, watch 
 ful, taciturn man, who seemed to do a great deal 
 of thinking, and who was anything but demon 
 strative. The matter was discussed in numerous 
 interviews, and at last a basis of action was 
 agreed upon. Norton was to meet Wimbush and 
 Scaramanga in Washington on a certain date. 
 There, and in their presence, he was to explain 
 and illustrate his method. If it turned out to be 
 what he claimed, he was to receive one hundred
 
 182 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 thousand dollars down, and the company would 
 be immediately formed and proceed to business. 
 
 On the morning of the day of his departure 
 Norton went to see Sybil Tr afford. He had already 
 mentioned to her his two prospective partners, 
 and he now gave her a narrative in detail of what 
 had been done, and of what it was proposed to do. 
 
 She listened to it all with her eyes fixed steadily 
 and thoughtfully upon his face. 
 
 "Do you trust these men? " she asked, when he 
 had finished. 
 
 "I have no high opinion of them, certainly," he 
 answered, smiling. "They are not people I should 
 care to pass my life with. But the arrangements 
 suggested leave them no opening to swindle me. 
 I have the control of the stock and the business, 
 and can vote them out if I choose ; I think I ve 
 been rather shrewd with them." 
 
 "They don t seem to me good men," said Sybil; 
 "and I doubt if good can come from associating 
 with people who are not good. I wish I could see 
 them ; then I could tell." 
 
 "Well, I m afraid we can t manage that," 
 returned Norton. 
 
 "At what hour do you start?" asked she. 
 
 "Eleven-thirty, I believe the night express."
 
 THE ELECTRICAL ENGINEER S STORY. 183 
 
 "And when shall you return ?" 
 
 "Oh, in three or four days; it will depend some 
 what on circumstances." 
 
 "I feel as if there were going to be a change," 
 said Sybil, in a low voice. 
 
 " What sort of a change ? In you, or in me, or in 
 things in general ? " 
 
 "I can t tell; only a change. After all, you 
 know, people are not immortal. I m sure, if it 
 hadn t been for you, I should have undergone a 
 change long since." 
 
 "Come, you mustn t talk like that, you know," 
 said Norton, looking at her more searchingly. 
 "Have you been having more pain? Any new 
 symptoms? " 
 
 "No pain at all; on the contrary, I ieel well as 
 if I had no body. I feel able to do anything; 
 though I know that I can only lie here. I am all 
 thought and will." 
 
 "Well, thought and will cover a good deal. You 
 must use your will to make yourself well, and 
 your thoughts to think of me sometimes." 
 
 "The last thing I shall think of will be you!" 
 returned she, smiling; "and you can take that 
 either way you choose. Goodby, now ; we shall 
 meet again."
 
 184 six CI:\T SAM S. 
 
 "Indeed we shall! "said Norton; and so they 
 parted. 
 
 No sooner had he left her than Norton came to a 
 determination, namely, that at their next meet 
 ing he would ask her to be his wife. He won 
 dered why he had not done it before. Had he not 
 loved her for a long while past? Undoubtedly he 
 had ; and yet he had never said as much, even to 
 himself, until now. The conviction must have 
 been present in his heart long ago ; but for some 
 reason it had only just emerged into full conscious 
 ness. He loved her, and would ask her to marry 
 him. He was convinced that she loved him. He 
 could not have specified any act or \vord of hers 
 to substantiate this belief, but he had it neverthe 
 less. It was new to him, and yet somehow famil 
 iar. It was as if some power or influence had all 
 at once been applied to his soul, raising a curtain 
 there which revealed a state ol feeling long exist 
 ing but only now recognized. Such sudden and 
 unexplained awakeryngs come to all of us; and we 
 know as little as Norton did wherefore. 
 
 Though his resolve was, from a practical and 
 rational standpoint, anything but defensible, inas 
 much as it was almost a physiological certainty 
 that Sybil could not live long, and would never leave
 
 THE ELECTRICAL ENGINEER S STORY. 185 
 
 her bed, still it brought Norton singular peace and 
 happiness of mind. His eyes brightened and his 
 step became elastic. He felt like a bridegroom 
 going to his wedding. His thoughts dwelt entirely 
 on Sybil, and she appeared, not as the invalid he 
 had always known, but as the lovely and ani 
 mated girl she had been before they met. This was 
 an odd freak of fancy, but its oddness did not 
 strike Norton at the time. On the contrary, it 
 seemed to him that he had never before been so 
 reasonably and soundly himself as he was now r . 
 
 Considering that he was about to start on a 
 journey the results of which were likely to have an 
 important bearing on his whole future career, he 
 might have been expected to think a good deal 
 about the probable outcome and conduct thereof; 
 yet this matter, as far as he could afterward recol 
 lect, never invaded his mind at all ; he neither 
 could nor desired to detach his meditations from 
 Sybil. In those meditations he passed the 
 afternoon ; he was absurdly happy. After dinner, 
 as his train did not start till toward midnight, 
 he walked out for a stroll. He turned up Broad 
 way and walked on until he reached Thirty-ninth 
 street. As his eyes rested upon the big yellow mass 
 of the Metropolitan opera house, he all atoncedis-
 
 186 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 covered that he wished to go in there and listen to 
 the performance. 
 
 He had not been to the opera for at least a 
 dozen years ; but this desire did not seem at all 
 strange to him, nor did it admit of an instant s 
 doubt or hesitation. He bought a ticket at the 
 box office and \vent in. The opera was "Lucia di 
 Lammermoor, " with Patti in the title-role. The 
 first act was nearly over as Norton took his seat 
 in the parquet on the right. The house was over 
 flowing with a fashionable audience. Glancing 
 around the array of boxes, Norton saw that only 
 one was unoccupied ; it was on the first tier, two 
 or three removes from the stage. 
 
 The act ended, and a buzz of conversation arose 
 over the great assemblage, a fluttering of fans, a 
 rustle of programs, a leveling of opera-glasses and 
 lorgnettes. Norton sat quietly in a state of sen 
 sation calmly delightful. All was well with him ; 
 he had 110 anxieties, no doubts, no troubles on his 
 horizon. Some great, unformulated happiness 
 seemed near him or around him. He did not 
 attempt to analyze or explain it, but gave himself 
 up passive!} to its enjoyment. 
 
 As the curtain rose on the second act Norton s 
 eves happened to be fixed on the curtains at the
 
 THE ELECTRICAL KNGINEER .S STORY. 
 
 187 
 
 back of the vacant box near the stage ; and he saw 
 a \vhite hand with rings sparkling on the fingers 
 grasp the border of the curtain and draw it aside. 
 A young woman emerged, and, advancing to the 
 front of the box, seated herself in one of the chairs. 
 She was in full evening costume, the general effect 
 of which was white. Her hair, which was very 
 dark, was coiled on the top of her head, revealing 
 the beautiful lines on the nape of her neck. From 
 the base of her white and full throat the shoulders 
 sloped with a slightly convex curve to the edging 
 of her corsage ; her features were noble and lovely ; 
 
 her brilliant 
 complex 
 of phys 
 
 T> 1 
 
 Round 
 
 fastened 
 
 monds 
 
 eyes and delicately tinted 
 ion showed the perfection 
 ical health and vigor, 
 her neck was 
 a circlet of dia- 
 w i t h a single 
 immense dia 
 mond as a pend 
 ant. This splen 
 did stone blazed 
 and sparkled like 
 a star, and 
 seemed to shed a 
 
 radiance rather than to reflect it.
 
 188 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 After settling herself in her chair, this beautiful 
 woman took up a small operaglass and began to 
 glance over the house. Presently she directed the 
 instrument straight at Norton. She immediately 
 lowered it, and bent forward toward him with a 
 bow and a smile. She had recognized him ; a 
 moment later with a gesture almost imperceptible 
 she beckoned him to come to her. 
 
 Norton rose on the instant. Patti was in the 
 midst of an aria, and the audience, entranced to 
 hear, turned resentfully on Norton as he left his 
 seat and walked up the aisle. Little cared he for 
 that. He gained the lobby, mounted the steps- 
 and hastened along the corridor to the door of the 
 box. There he paused a moment. " It is not pos 
 sible!" he murmured to himself. "I must have 
 been mistaken. It cannot be she! " 
 
 Nevertheless, he opened the door, and found him 
 self in the ante-chamber. As he stood there, 
 undecided whether to go on or to retreat, the 
 curtains parted, and he saw the outlines of her 
 figure dark against the bright background beyond. 
 He stepped forward with an exclamation of joy, 
 and grasped in his own the soft white hands that 
 .she held out to him. 
 
 Sybil ! " he excl aimed ; "is this really you ?
 
 THE ELECTRICAL ENGINEER S STORY. 189 
 
 " It is really I, Paul ; who else should it be ? " 
 
 "But when I left you this morning, you were 
 
 "This morning is not to-night. I am an invalid 
 no longer. Don t I look well ? I came here to see 
 you. Do you know why ? " 
 
 He looked in her eyes, and saw there all that his 
 heart wanted to see. He could not repress the 
 words that rose to his lips. 
 
 "Sybil, do you love me?" 
 
 "With all my soul! with all my soul!" she 
 answered. He drew her inward through the cur 
 tains, and held her in his arms. 
 
 They sat down and talked together. What they 
 said \vas sacred. The words that lovers say are 
 unimportant, but they convey meanings that 
 transcend all language. They were in heaven. All 
 glorious and lovely influences were about them, 
 and time stood still. 
 
 "How do vou like mv diamond, Paul vour 
 
 ^ - */ 
 
 diamond?" 
 
 "Is that the one I doctored ? It seems too splen 
 did!" 
 
 "What you did for the diamond is only the sym 
 bol of what you have done for me. They are mir 
 acles never to be repeated ! " 
 
 "Never, my darling! "
 
 190 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 "Take me home, now. I will not say good-by 
 to von here. Then we must part for a little while 
 but not forever, remember ! Come ! " 
 
 He wrapped her cloak round her shoulders, she 
 put her arm in his, and they passed out to a car 
 riage that was awaiting them. When they reached 
 her house, she bade him enter. He followed her as 
 she went rustling up the stairs, leaving behind 
 her an exquisite perfume as of celestial flowers. At 
 the door of her room she turned and smiled at 
 him. 
 
 A sudden misgiving seized him. He stepped 
 hastily after her across the threshold. There, on 
 the bed, lay the form of Sybil Trafford, white and 
 lifeless ; beside her stood the members of the fam- 
 iry, their faces wet with tears. But as Norton 
 advanced to the bedside, Sybil opened her eyes. 
 For a moment, through the shadow of death, 
 there gleamed the smile and the beauty of the 
 spirit he had communed with. She raised her 
 hand, and laid her finger on the great diamond 
 that sparkled on her bosom. Norton stooped and 
 kissed her lips. When he raised his head she was 
 gone. But he knew that she had been aware of 
 their meeting, and that they would meet again.
 
 THE SYMPOSIUM. 191 
 
 "That s all," said Norton, tossing his dead cigar 
 into the fireplace, and folding his arms. 
 
 "It seems cruel and yet, I do n t know ! "said I. 
 
 "It was the blessing of my life," returned he. "I 
 don t understand it. I can t explain it. I won t 
 even say that I believe it ; but it was that." 
 
 "And what about the diamond scheme?" asked 
 I, after a while. 
 
 Norton shook his head. "Nothing. Those fel 
 lows turned out swindlers ; if I had gone to them, 
 I should probably never have been heard of again. 
 They meant to steal my process and then put me 
 out of the way." 
 
 "Then that gives a motive for Sybil s appari 
 tion." 
 
 "Oh, it was not that! "he exclaimed, almost 
 indignantly. "It was to tell me something of 
 infinitely greater moment. What is life? But she 
 brought me something better ! " 
 
 This story seemed to impress some of the com 
 pany, and I fancied I noticed a look of thoughtful 
 sympathy in the eyes of my friend Captain Keppel, 
 who had recently arrived in this country from a 
 sojourn of some years in the East. As I knew the
 
 192 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 captain to be a fascinating narrator, I took 
 advantage of my position next to Sam to whisper 
 a suggestion to him ; to which he responded by an 
 imperceptible nod. 
 
 It may be as well to say here that the captain 
 looks to be about fifty years old, though, for aught 
 I know, he may be twice that age. There is no 
 country that he has not visited, and there is hardly 
 a man or woman of eminence or notoriety of the 
 present century of whom he has not some personal 
 anecdote to tell. He was born at sea, in the neigh 
 borhood of Cape Horn ; his mother was a 
 Spaniard, his father an Englishman who had spent 
 most of his life in America. His own childish years 
 were passed in Ceylon ; he was educated partly in 
 Vienna and Paris, and partly at Oxford. By dint 
 of interest in high quarters, he obtained a lieuten 
 ancy in the English army, and was not long after 
 ward promoted for gallantry in the field. But the 
 conditions of army life appear not to have suited 
 him ; and having at a very early age attained the 
 rank of captain, he resigned in the face of the most 
 flattering prospects, and began those independent 
 rambles about the world which have ever since 
 continued. When in the mood, no man can talk 
 more delightfully than he, though he is habitually
 
 THE SYMPOSIUM. 193 
 
 reticent concerning dates and localities. The cap 
 tain is organically related, so to say, to all 
 national upheavals and convulsions ; an instinct 
 for which he himself cannot account seems to draw 
 him to the center of interest at the critical moment. 
 He was present at the surrender of Sebastopol 
 to mention an event that fell within my own boy 
 ish recollections. He heard the guns of Sadowa; 
 he stood on the fatal field of Sedan ; he leaned at 
 the door of the little hut at Plevna, when Osman 
 Pasha, wounded and beaten, gave up his sword to 
 young Skobeloft. He saw Alexander II. blown to 
 pieces by the bombs of the Nihilists; he sawO Dor;- 
 avan, of Merb, meet his death at the hands of El 
 Mahdi ; and he is one of the few who still believe 
 that Chinese Gordon yet lives, and "will return to 
 tell Europe a stranger tale of adventure than any 
 it has heretofore listened to. There is reason to 
 believe, too, that he was with Walker at Nica 
 ragua; and it is known that he rode at Garibaldi s 
 side in his last campaign. But the captain is the 
 quietest of men ; he wears no ribbon in his but 
 ton-hole, nor is there any trace of bombast in his 
 talk or manner. So simple and unstudied are the 
 words of his narratives that you are conscious 
 not of them, but only of the event which they pcr- 
 
 13
 
 194 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 tray. He is a spare, soldierly, sinewy figure of 
 middle height, with a grave, resolute face, gray 
 moustache, with scanty hair curling over a well 
 formed head ; at this moment he held a cigar in 
 one brown, sinewy hand, while the other played 
 with the tiny Indian idol at his watch chain. He 
 was saying, in that deep, lo\v, leisurely voice of 
 his, that it would be money in the pocket of the 
 owner of the Braganza diamond if Dr. Norton 
 would try his skill on that. 
 
 " Have you ever seen it ? " I asked. 
 The captain nodded. 
 
 "Some persons say," remarked Sam, "that it is 
 not a diamond at all ; certainly not of the first 
 water." 
 
 "When I was in Rio, a good many years ago," 
 said the captain, "the then young Dom Pedro 
 showed me the stone, and I held it in my hand. I 
 could just make my fingers meet around it. It is 
 not, of course, so brilliant as the Kohinoor ; it is 
 not cut as that is ; and it certainly has a slight yel 
 lowish tinge. Nevertheless, as you know, it has 
 been valued at $15,000,000 American money, and 
 we may say that nowhere else is so great value 
 compressed into so small space. The ransom of 
 a kingdom within the grasp of a schoolboy s fist.
 
 THE SYMPOSIUM. 195 
 
 But there is significance in the legends attached 
 to most of these great jewels that they are 
 inhabited by a demon, which works calamity to 
 whomsoever becomes possessed of it. There is 
 something destructive, maddening, phantasmal 
 about them ; they promise infinite wealth, and 
 they bring only misery and death. They diminish, 
 instead of adding to the riches and prosperity of 
 the world. Their history is a history of robbery, 
 oppression, and murder. The devil is in em," he 
 added, taking a puff at his cigar. After a pause, 
 continued : 
 
 "But the devil doesn t get into them except by 
 our introduction. The Braganza lay in the earth 
 a myriad of centuries, unknown and untouched, a 
 mere harmless, glittering lump of crystallized car 
 bon. If mankind would but pass a law that such 
 gems bear no money value, and are to be used only 
 as religious emblems, the demon would be exor 
 cised, and we would all be the happier." 
 
 "You seem to be particularly interested in the 
 Braganza," said I. "Is there any legend attached 
 to it?" 
 
 "There is a strange story connected with it, 
 which I heard, a good while ago, from the chief
 
 196 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 actor in the drama. Do you know the circum 
 stances of the stone s discovery? " 
 
 "It s a South American gem, isn t it ? " 
 
 "Yes; it originally belonged to the Emperor of 
 Brazil, and was given by him to the King of Port 
 ugal. Well, I doubt whether any one now living, 
 except myself, knows the full history of the matter. 
 I have met with few instances of the irony of fate 
 more remarkable; as the tale is not very long,, 
 perhaps it would not bore you to hear it." 
 
 "I was just about to ask you to tell it to us r 
 captain," said Sam. 
 
 The captain laid down his cigar, folded his arms, 
 and after a few moments recollection began : 
 
 THE CAPTAIN S STORY. 
 
 ET me see when was it? Never mind; it 
 ,was a long time back. I was 
 in New Orleans, on my way to 
 Havana, where I meant to 
 take ship to Vera Cruz, 
 and so to the City of 
 Mexico. There was a 
 delay in getting off, yel 
 
 low jack in Havana, or something, at all events 
 I was obliged to spend some ten days in the Cres-
 
 THE CAPTAIN S STORY. 197 
 
 cent City. One day, an old, white-headed beggar 
 came up on crutches to the veranda of the hotel at 
 which I was stopping, and asked for alms. He 
 had a look of having seen vicissitudes. I took a 
 fancy to him, and put a gold eagle in his hand. 
 
 "You seldom get hold of such a fortune as 
 that," said I. 
 
 "Senor," he replied, speaking with a Spanish 
 accent, but correctly enough, "I have held in this 
 hand what would buy this whole city, and put a 
 new city in its place." 
 
 "You have been improvident, it appears, "said I. 
 
 "My improvidence, senor, was before that time 
 not after." 
 
 "Unfortunate, eh?" 
 
 "The most unfortunate, senor, of God s crea 
 tures." 
 
 "Miraculously so," added I; "for it is no less 
 than a miracle that a man should be able to lose as 
 much money as that." 
 
 "It was taken from me," said he. 
 
 "But you resisted ? " 
 
 "No, senor." 
 
 "Who was the thief?" 
 
 "It is a question that I have often asked myself, 
 senor. I have sometimes said that it was one man,
 
 198 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 sometimes another; at times I have accused 
 myself. But, at the last, I think it was none of 
 these; it was Fate." 
 
 "That may be said of all misfortunes ; you are a 
 philosopher; but most men would not give up such 
 a fortune, even to Fate, without a struggle. Any 
 how, Fate can t have spent the money." 
 
 The fellow shrugged his shoulders. I saw that 
 there was a mystery somewhere, so I made him 
 come up to my room, and put a bottle of wine on 
 the table between us. There and then he told me 
 the story of his life. Here it is : 
 
 His name was John Cordoba. He was born at 
 Monterey, his father being a respectable man, and 
 well off, as times went ; his mother was the hand 
 somest \voman in the town. Juan remarked that 
 he resembled her in his youth ; and possibly he did. 
 The inhabitants \vere under the dominion of the 
 priests, who practically owned everything, and 
 lived in a big adobe mission building, the ruins of 
 which I have seen. When the California gold-fever 
 began many emigrants passed through Monterey, 
 and left a good deal of money behind them there ; 
 but this was long before that period. Juan lived 
 in an adobe house, built round a court, verandaed, 
 stuccoed and white washed. There was no school-
 
 THE CAPTAIN S STORY. 199 
 
 ing in those days, and Juan played about wherever 
 fancy led him ; his mother idolized him ; he was the 
 only son, and all went his way. 
 
 This mother of his was a very superstitious 
 woman a believer in omens, witchcraft, and 
 magic white and black. She was not herself an 
 adept, but there was an old Indian wizard whose 
 acquaintance she cultivated, and whose advice she 
 followed. Had she been a New Englander, she 
 might have worked off this imaginative tendency 
 by writing romantic stories for the magazines, or in 
 lecturing on Women s Rights. As it was, she had 
 to wreak herself on mysticism ; and perhaps that 
 way is as harmless as any. But it turned out 
 badly for poor Juan. At the time of his birth, she 
 had the old Indian hag cast his horoscope, and 
 caused it to be engraved on a gold disc, about the 
 size of your hand; and for many years Juan wore 
 it suspended to his neck by chain; in fact he kept 
 it until he lost everything. If any horoscope 
 ever deserved to be preserved, certainly this did ; 
 it was a truly remarkable affair. 
 
 Are you familiar with the technical terms of 
 astrology? If not, I won t trouble you with such 
 details as what planet was Lord of Life, what 
 signs were hostile and what favorable, and how
 
 200 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 they were posted. Juan drew it all out for me on 
 the fly leaf of an old testament that happened to be 
 lying on the mantelpiece ; it must be confessed that 
 it had an alluring look to it quite enough to 
 ensnare a sounder judgment than his. There w r ere 
 a number of minor indications, good and bad; but 
 the great point, overruling and dwarfing all the 
 rest, was to the effect that the "native," on a 
 certain date between his twenty-second and 
 twenty-third years, was to become possessed of 
 greater wealth than belonged to any living man, 
 and that he should acquire this all in one day. 
 
 There was no mistaking the signs ; if any 
 reliance was to be placed in astrology, then the 
 truth of this prediction was beyond question. 
 Needless to say that Juan s mother believed it, and 
 that she brought up Juan in the faith. He was 
 given to know that he was to be the greatest cap 
 italist of the century soon after he came of age. He 
 inherited his mother s imaginative temperament, 
 combined with a strong mingling of Mexican indo 
 lence; and it is not to be wondered at that his 
 splendid expectations disinclined him to work his 
 way through the world. All the nearly boundless 
 power that wealth can give was to be his. His 
 father died while Juan was a child, and thus the
 
 THE CAPTAIN S STORY. 
 
 201 
 
 only restraining influence over the boy was 
 
 removed. He became the little autocrat of his own 
 
 home, and was even regarded 
 
 -with a sort of reverence by 
 
 others. People humored 
 
 him, and as he grew to 
 
 manhood, he waxed ever ,,-// 
 
 more overbearing and 
 
 headstrong. He was 
 
 the handsome, reckless 
 
 ungovernable Juan 
 
 Cordoba, with a 
 
 dazzling future be 
 
 It was more prudent to be the 
 
 the enemy of a man like that. Out of his countless 
 
 millions he might enrich every man, \voman and 
 
 child in Monterey, and never feel the difference. 
 
 Meanwhile he felt safe in spending freely what 
 ever money he could lay hands on. There was no 
 Jew money-lender in Monterey, and even had there 
 been, he might have hesitated to accept Juan s 
 security ; but his mother gave him all she had. 
 Why should she refuse him ? In a few years it 
 \vould all return to her a millionfold, and it was 
 well that the boy should acquire the habit of dis 
 pensing riches. So Juan cut a fine figure, wearing 
 
 fore him. 
 friend than
 
 202 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 the finest elothes that money could buy, and try 
 ing his best to behave as if the hour of destiny had 
 already struck. One can imagine it must have 
 been an agreeable life ; spending all there was in 
 hand, and trusting in the stars to reimburse him 
 without limit hereafter. Like Julius Cassar and 
 Napoleon Bonaparte, he regarded himself as 
 superior to the rest of men as the favorite of the 
 gods. Whatever he attempted must succeed ; 
 whatever he did must be right. For a long while 
 results seemed to confirm his assumption. He had 
 the best of good luck. Where others would have 
 met disaster, he emerged scathless. 
 
 So handsome and conspicuous a youth was sure 
 to have plenty of love affairs, and Juan might have 
 married the best match on the coast had he 
 chosen ; but he was not at this period a marrying 
 man. He meant to wed an empress one of these 
 days, and was not going to throw himself away 
 on a Mexican senorita. At the same time, he was 
 no ascetic, and the consequences were as might 
 have been expected. He lived in a tangle of 
 intrigues, and since discretion was never the lead 
 ing trait of his character, it was a constant mar 
 vel that he escaped getting a knife bet ween his ribs. 
 To judge by his own account, the women knew
 
 THE CAPTAIN S STORY. 203 
 
 not how to resist him ; and on the other hand, the 
 women s natural protectors were never on hand at 
 the right moment. 
 
 One young lady, Maria Torres by name, made a 
 particular impression on Juan. She lived near San 
 Jose. Her father, an alcalde, was not ignorant of 
 Juan s reputation, and prevented him from having 
 access to her. She was betrothed to her cousin 
 Gonzales. Stimulated by opposition, Juan finally 
 succeeded in getting some private conversation 
 with Maria, and promised her marriage. At all 
 events, he so dazzled and misled her, that she con 
 sented to an elopement. The distance from San 
 Jose to Monterey is about fifty miles. Juan rode 
 thither one night, rested the next day, and on the 
 following night awaited Maria at a place pre 
 viously agreed on with two horses. It was his 
 plan to ride with her to Santa Cruz, take a vessel 
 there and escape to one of the islands off Santa 
 Barbara. 
 
 He had at this juncture nearly completed his 
 twenty-first year and was looking forward with 
 impatience to the accomplishment of the prophecy. 
 In truth, he had nearly got to the end of his tether. 
 All the property his father had left was spent; 
 house and lands \vere mortgaged to their full
 
 204 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 value ; and many debts had been incurred. Unless 
 destiny soon appeared, he was likely to have trou 
 ble. But he had no misgivings. On the contrary, 
 as he waited at the trysting-place, he had never 
 felt more assured that all was going well. 
 
 Maria came at last and received an ardent 
 welcome. But before Juan could lift her into the 
 saddle, two men, who were any thing but welcome, 
 joined the party. They were the alcalde and 
 Manuel Gonzales. The former rode at Juan, who 
 \vas still on foot, with his pistol leveled. It was 
 life or death. Juan snatched his own pistol and 
 fired; the alcalde fell. Manuel sprang from his 
 horse and rushed on Juan with his knife. The next 
 moment, Manuel was on the ground with his own 
 knife buried in his heart. It was all over in a 
 couple of minutes. The noise had attracted some 
 people in the neighborhood, and Juan had no time 
 to lose. It was useless to think of Maria ; she was 
 on her knees beside her father; he drove in his 
 spurs and was off. Toward morning he reached 
 the coast, boarded his vessel, and made sail. Such 
 was the end of his last love affair. 
 
 During the voyage, he had ample leisure to 
 review his position. He was ruined in purse and 
 person ; for his horoscope could not have availed
 
 THE CAPTAIN S STORY. 205 
 
 to save his life. Even in Mexico, it is not a con 
 venient thing to murder alcaldes ; though, to be 
 sure, as he learned years afterward, the old gentle 
 man was only wounded, and survived for many 
 years. But Manuel was dead, and Juan was 
 known to be his slayer. He could never venture 
 back to his own home, for it would add a bitter 
 ness to death were he to suffer it after having got 
 his millions. Juan, however, did not dread home 
 sickness. When his destiny was accomplished, he 
 could send for his mother, change his name, and 
 live in splendor where he chose. The recent catas 
 trophe had not in the least weakened Juan s faith 
 in his golden future. The adventure might have 
 turned out worse. He had escaped without a 
 scratch, and though he could not have Maria, 
 neither could Gonzales. There were other Marias, 
 not to speak of empresses. It was not Juan s cue 
 to repent ; life was before him, and he felt qualified 
 to enjoy it. The great change could not now be 
 far distant. Meanwhile, except the clothes he wore 
 and a hundred dollars in his belt, he had nothing. 
 He lay on the deck, wondering in what form and 
 by what means his fortune was to come to him. 
 Was he to find the philosopher s stone ? Was he 
 to stumble on a gold mine ? It was a curious fact,
 
 206 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 he told me, that in none of his speculations did 
 the thought of diamonds come to him. 
 
 After a week at sea, they were still forty miles 
 north of the Santa Barbara islands. It now fell 
 dead calm, and they lay rolling and creaking on a 
 long swell for four and twenty hours. Then, in a 
 moment, as it seemed, a hurricane from the north 
 east struck them. They drove staggering to the 
 south-west for a night and a day ; the wind then 
 moderated, but soon began again from the north 
 west. The vessel was in a sinking condition, and 
 the boats had been swept away ; the crew set to 
 work to make a raft. Juan looked on but made no 
 offer to help. So persuaded was he of his charmed 
 life that at no time during the storm had he felt 
 uneasy as to his ultimate safety. When the raft 
 was finished, it was found to be barely large 
 enough to accommodate the crew ; and the captain 
 told Juan that, since he had not seen fit to help 
 them, he might now help himself. The men got 
 aboard, hoisted a sail, and drifted away, leaving 
 Juan to sink with the ship. When morning broke, 
 the raft was out of sight, but the ship was still 
 afloat. About noon, a barque hove in sight, bore 
 down on him, and took on board the man of 
 destiny, little the worse for his adventure. The
 
 THE CAPTAIN S STORY. 207 
 
 raft was never again heard of; the ship sank 
 within an hour after Juan left her. He felt more 
 than ever convinced that his loner a\vaited glorv 
 
 4 o o 
 
 was at hand. 
 
 The barque that had rescued him was bound for 
 the Isthmus, and in the course of a few days he 
 was landed there. While his money held out, he 
 lived at his ease, making no provisions against 
 possible impecuniosity in the future ; meanwhile he 
 made the acquaintance of some persons who seemed 
 as aimless as himself; but by the time his last dol 
 lar was gone, he had got an inkling as to what 
 their trade might be. They were in fact highway 
 men, and they did business on the road across the 
 Isthmus by which the emigrants traveled. The 
 opportunities for escape and concealment which 
 this locality offered \vere excellent, and the returns 
 too rich to be despised by even so important a per 
 sonage as Senor Juan Cordoba. The question of 
 morality did not much disturb him ; he was 
 already an outlaw. In short, this romantic vaga 
 bond became a brigand ; and since he was of a 
 masterful and daring disposition, he was presently 
 elected captain of the band, which now became a 
 terror to the country. In these agreeable pursuits 
 Captain Juan whiled away a year or more ; and
 
 208 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 the day was not far off when the prophecy of the 
 horoscope must fall due. 
 
 The brigands, in the intervals of their raids, were 
 in the habit of assuming a law-abiding guise, and 
 amusing themselves in one or other of the coast 
 settlements. Here, as luck w T ould have it, Juan ran 
 across a gentleman whose worldly goods he had 
 appropriated a few days previous, and w r ho recog 
 nized him on the spot. He was arrested, and find 
 ing that denials were unavailing, he not only made 
 a clean breast of it as regarded himself, but also 
 revealed the names of his associates. The latter 
 \vere promptly hanged, but Juan, out of recogni 
 tion for his assistance, was put in a striped suit, 
 his hair cropped short, his shoulder branded with 
 a hot iron, and he was given a life-job as a govern 
 ment convict. But his life was spared. 
 
 While there s life, there s hope; and Juan did not 
 lose courage. He thought he could easily contrive 
 an escape; either an earthquake w r ould swallow 
 up his keepers, or an angel \vould descend from 
 heaven and loose his fetters, or some expedient for 
 getting rid of them would present itself. In the 
 meantime he maintained cheerful and friendly rela 
 tions w r ith his guards, and they permitted him to 
 wear his amulet beneath his striped jacket for as
 
 THE CAPTAIN S STORY. 
 
 209 
 
 an amulet he regarded the gold horoscope which 
 contained the assurance that his misfortunes must 
 soon cease. One day, however, he and some of his 
 companions were put on board a vessel bound to 
 the harbor of Rio Janeiro. 
 
 The heat was intolerable, and the sufferings of 
 the involuntary voyagers 
 were great. Fever broke 
 out among them ; but Juan 
 was not attacked. The ma 
 jority of the sick died, but 
 the man of destiny survived. 
 " Having arrived at their 
 port, they were " ~^-~ 
 taken ashore, di 
 vided into parties, 
 and marched into 
 the interior. The 
 Brazilian govern 
 ment, needing la 
 bor on the roads 
 of the country, had 
 contracted for the 
 labor of the con 
 victs. Having 
 reached their destination, they were each morning
 
 210 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 chained leg to leg, driven to the scene of opera 
 tions, and kept at work there till sundown. It 
 was killing toil; but Juan, wiry and vigorous, was 
 supported by the conviction that the day of his 
 deliverance was at hand. This secret belief so ani 
 mated him, that he obtained the favor of his 
 employers, and was promoted to the post of dep 
 uty overseer. He was freed from the chain that 
 bound him to his mate, and was occasionally 
 allowed to lay down his own pick and shovel, and 
 direct the work of the others. So time went on, 
 and though he lost the count of days, he was 
 able to say to himself every morning, "perhaps it 
 will be to-day;" and every evening, "perhaps 
 to-morrow." And he smiled privately to himself 
 to think how surprised his keepers would be. 
 
 The severest labor was the cutting down of the 
 tropical vegetation which often crossed the line of 
 the road. But much of the country was a level 
 plain, with rocks jutting up out of it, moulded in fan 
 tastic forms ; again, there were stretches of ferru 
 ginous gravel ; and sometimes broad marsh-lands 
 in the midst of the savanna, carpeted with grass 
 whose bright green hue contrasted pleasantly with 
 the brown herbage of the plains. Though the heat 
 was great, hunger was almost as sharp as thirst,
 
 THE CAPTAIN S STORY. 211 
 
 and there was no solid food to be had except beef, 
 which must be eaten as soon as killed, or else 
 salted. The pulp-covered nuts of theBacaba palm 
 were more agreeable to the palate ; and a drink 
 was made of the red berries of the Guarana, dried 
 to powder and mixed with water. Air and earth 
 \vere full of insects, and overhead hovered the 
 great urubus, looking for carrion. The beauty of 
 flowers was everywhere; each day s sun set in a 
 blaze of splendor, and in the mornings the low 
 banks of cloud were tinged with ethereal rose- 
 color ; but the existence led by the convicts was a 
 constant torture, which no fairness of nature could 
 alleviate. 
 
 At times, in the midst of the day s toil, a deep 
 stillness would settle down, and soon black clouds 
 would collect on the horizon, and move to the 
 zenith. Then lightning and thunder would flash 
 and explode in the black vault, and the rain \vould 
 fall in broad masses, hissing on the hot face of the 
 earth. During these fierce paroxysms of storm all 
 work was suspended, and the men sought what 
 shelter they could find. During one of these storms, 
 Juan took advantage of the cover afforded by a 
 mushroom shaped rock at the roadside. Two of 
 the other convicts squatted beside him. The
 
 212 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 steady roar of the deluge, the detonations and 
 the flashes, produced a sort of numbness of the 
 senses. The streams of water careering down the 
 slopes wore deep channels in the soil ; and as Juan 
 stood vacantly gazing at these ruts his eye was 
 caught by the shining of a large crystal. It had 
 been laid bare by the little torrent; and after a 
 while, fearing lest it should be covered up again, 
 Juan issued from his shelter and picked it up. 
 
 As he grasped it in his hand, an explosion as of 
 cannon fired into his ear stunned him, and at the 
 same moment he was enveloped in a blinding glare 
 that hurled him to the ground and seemed to dry 
 up all the juices of his body. He became senseless. 
 On coming to himself, he saw that the storm was 
 over; but beneath the ledge of the rock lay the 
 blackened bodies of his two companions, dead and. 
 rigid. The right leg of his own trousers was 
 scorched below the knee, and the limb twisted; 
 the links of the chain that fettered his ankles were 
 fused, and the chain no longer bound him ; but the 
 thunderbolt had laid fetters upon him that could 
 never be loosened ; he was a cripple for life. 
 
 He still clutched in his hand the piece of shining 
 crystal which had saved his life and mocked him 
 by severing his chains. Could his limbs have
 
 THE CAPTAIN S STORY. 213 
 
 served him, he might have escaped then and there 
 in the dense jungle that extended close to the road. 
 But he sat helpless, with the great crystal, larger 
 than a hen s egg, sparkling in his hand. Presently 
 the two overseers who had the party in charge, 
 and who had been stunned but not injured by the 
 shock, came up to him. Finding that he could not 
 stand, they decided to return to the camp, about 
 two miles off, and bring an ox-cart on which to 
 transport him, and the bodies of his late com 
 panions. 
 
 "Remember not to run away," said one, wag 
 gishly ; "exertion in this weather is unhealthy." 
 
 "What has our gentleman got in his hand?" 
 said the other. " It sparkles well." 
 
 "I picked it out of the mud," said Juan, indiffer 
 ently, letting the man take it. 
 
 "Only a bit of melted glass," said the first 
 speaker. 
 
 "Melted glass doesn t grow hereabouts," 
 returned his companion. "That s a bit of crystal, 
 and not a bad bit, either. I ve seen worse 
 sold for a dollar. I shall take it back to camp, 
 and show it to the engineer." 
 
 " Yerv well; only, whatever we get for it, we go
 
 214 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 shares, amigo," was the reply. "Ah, if it were 
 only a diamond, now." 
 
 "Holy Virgin! A diamond! You and I would 
 then buy Brazil, and use it for a cattle-ranch." 
 They walked away laughing. 
 
 Juan had sat during their conversation in a mood 
 of gloomy abstraction, and he so remained after 
 they were gone. For the first time in his life, he 
 felt unhopeful. It was not only that he was 
 maimed; he had a sense of having lost something 
 
 o o 
 
 more than bodily vigor. What was it ? 
 
 "Holy Virgin! A diamond!" Who had said 
 that? Had he said it himself ? A diamond; what 
 diamond ? "Holy Virgin ! A diamond ! " What 
 had put that into his head ? Stay ; were not dia 
 monds sometimes found in Brazil ? Diamonds are 
 a kind of crystal; that stone that he had found 
 was a crystal. Suddenly Juan sat erect and 
 stretched out his clenched hands before him, while 
 his face grew crimson. It was too terrible to be 
 believed. It was impossible; and yet to-day 
 must be the very day foretold by the horoscope. 
 It must be so, because to-morrow was Sunday, 
 and the fatal day was the Saturday before his 
 birthday, which he knew was next week.
 
 THE CAPTAIN S STORY. 215 
 
 But a diamond nearly as large as a man s fist ! 
 Who ever heard of such a thing? Aye, but who 
 ever heard of such a fortune as had been promised 
 him? And it had come to him, a cripple and a 
 convict ! A convict who had no rights who could 
 own nothing. "Holy Virgin! A diamond!" A 
 diamond indeed ! Such a diamond as would buy 
 a nation. Yes, he had found and had held in his 
 hand the chief diamond of the world, and had 
 given it away without a thought. And so had the 
 prophecy been fulfilled so had Providence, in 
 which he had never lost faith, kept faith with him* 
 
 He shrieked ; he raved ; he shouted to the black 
 ened corpses, on which the urubus were already 
 beginning to settle; he rolled on the earth, and 
 beat his head in frenzy against the stones. A crip 
 ple and a convict, and to have found the greatest 
 diamond in the world ! He again became insensi 
 ble, and the urubus hopped beside him, with heads 
 sidewise, and hungry beaks. 
 
 He opened his eyes ; someone was shaking him 
 by the shoulder. It was the man to whom he had 
 given the diamond. 
 
 "Heh, amigOj have you found any more of those 
 "bits of glass? "
 
 216 
 
 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 millions; and 
 here, and I 
 dol- 
 
 "Give me back my crystal, "said Juan, in a whis 
 per. 
 
 "Ha, ha, his crystal! Come, do you know 
 what sort of a crystal that was of yours? Why, 
 it s a diamond a true dia ^^ mond, worth 
 hundreds of 
 m y friend, 
 
 shall get a thousand ^/^ / = /> 
 
 lars apiece for it ; and, by \ 
 the Virgin, we have spoken a 
 good word for thee, too, and 
 who knows ? thou mayst get, 
 thy pardon in a year or two.( 
 Carrambo ! such crystals are 
 worth picking up." 
 
 "My life my diamond ! "muttered Juan, and fell 
 forward on his face. 
 
 W T hen a man has lived wholly under the domin 
 ion of a fixed idea, and something happens to 
 deprive him of it, his life, in a sense, comes to an 
 end. Two men could not differ from each other 
 more than did the Juan who had been before the 
 finding of the diamond, from the thunder-smitten 
 wretch who crept about Rio a }-ear later, pardoned 
 by the emperor. For a long time his mind was 
 affected. At last, one dav, he found himself in
 
 THE CAPTAIN S STORY. 217 
 
 Panama, without knowing how he got there, and 
 thence, in the course of years, he made his way as far 
 north as Los Angeles. There, driving in a car 
 riage, with a Spanish officer evidently her hus 
 band by her side, he saw a beautiful woman 
 Avhom he recognized, though she did not recognize 
 him ; she tossed him a bit of silver, with a glance 
 of pity and slight aversion. He flung it back to her 
 with a snarl of rage ; it was the first touch of 
 -emotion, good or bad, that he had felt since he lost 
 the diamond. 
 
 He finally came to New Orleans, and had 
 remained there ever since. When I met him, he was 
 a very old man. By the time he had finished his 
 story, the bottle of wine was finished too. I 
 thanked him for the entertainment he had given 
 me, and he, saluting me with a certain dignity, 
 hobbled out of the room. I went to the window, 
 and looked out. There was a rattle of wheels and 
 a shouting in the street, and I saw a carriage 
 drawn by two horses that were running away. 
 Juan Cordoba was at that moment crossing the 
 street on his crutches. The carriage whirled by in 
 an instant ; and there, on the pavement, lay the 
 finder of the Braganza diamond. They brought 
 him to the veranda of the hotel; but when I
 
 218 
 
 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 reached him, I saw that the poor fellow had 
 gone where diamonds have no value. 
 
 The captain picked up his cigar and relighted it ~ 
 the rest of us sat silent for a minute at least. Then 
 Sam, without making any comment, addressed 
 the individual on his left hand, who, owing to his 
 position, was the only person at table whom I had 
 not been able to see. 
 
 "If I m not mistaken," said Sam, "you ve been 
 abroad, too. Would you mind telling us about 
 something entertaining over there ? 
 
 Whereupon, the person in question opened his 
 mouth and discoursed to the following effect: 
 
 THE UNSEEN MAN S STORY. 
 
 HE friends whom I expected 
 to meet in Athens had 
 been gone two days when I 
 " arrived. This was the first 
 g^of October. I spent three 
 weeks exploring the Gre 
 cian capital and its envi 
 rons, and then I ran across my old college mate, 
 Haymaker, one cf the most useful men living, for
 
 THE UNSEEN MAN S STORY. 219 
 
 he knows everyone and everything, has been every 
 where, and is as full of enthusiasm and energy as 
 on the day he entered the freshman class. 
 
 He asked me whether I had been to Egypt. I 
 said that I had not. "Then now is your time! " 
 was his reply; and taking out a notebook, he pro 
 ceeded to jot down for me an itinerary, containing 
 such useful details as the names of the best hotels^ 
 merchants and dragomen, the things to be seen 
 and the order in which to see them, the number of 
 days or weeks to be spent in various places, the 
 fees to be paid to government officers and others, 
 and the approximate total expenses of a six months 
 trip. 
 
 "There you are, my dear boy," said he, hand 
 ing me the paper, "and when you get home, 
 if you don t confess that } r our winter on the Nile 
 was the pleasantest experience of your travels, I ll 
 stand a dinner for a dozen at Delmonico s, and you 
 shall make a speech!" As we shook hands at 
 parting, he added, "Mind and don t forgettolook 
 up old Carigliano. Charming old maniac worth 
 all the rest of the trip put together! " 
 
 I embarked for Alexandria a few days later, and 
 on the fifth of November we sighted the Pharos, in 
 a temperature of seventy -eight degrees, and in the
 
 220 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 midst of a color, a movement, a picturesqueness, 
 and a strangeness, such as are to be met with only 
 in the East. The wharves crowded with shipping, 
 the ports, the villas and the palaces, glowed in the 
 calm clear light of the oriental afternoon. Handed 
 at the custom house in a perfect Babel and jostled 
 by a crowd of dark-hued faces, bare legs, and 
 scanty but gorgeously fine clothing. In a whirl of 
 gesticulation, broken English, and rapacious, good- 
 humored excitement, I had my trunks examined 
 and was driven (following Haymaker s advice) to 
 the Hotel Europe. There I secured the services of 
 Ahmed Hassan as dragoman, and my Egyptian 
 campaign began. 
 
 Everybody has made the same campaign, or has 
 read accounts of it, so that I will not enlarge upon 
 my individual experiences. I stayed in Alexandria 
 a week, and then took the train through the green 
 antiquity of immemorial Egypt, as far as Cairo. 
 There I remained a month long enough to begin 
 to feel in harmony with the oriental idea. In other 
 words, I began to get used to turbans, to naked 
 ness, to the union of inconceivable squalor and 
 splendor; to streets a yard \vide crammed with 
 donkeys, camels, merchandise, and the population 
 of a score of barbarous countries ; to the awful
 
 THE UNSEEN MAN S STORY. 
 
 221 
 
 repose of the living desert, and to the immortal 
 simplicity of the mysterious pyramids and of the 
 Sphinx. I became accustomed to a sky from which 
 no rain ever fell, and to a valley whose verdure 
 was derived from a spring which no man had ever 
 discovered. I grew familiar with the cry of the 
 muezzin from the minarets, and \vith the calm and 
 shadowy interior of the domed and splendid 
 mosques. Egypt is the stimulus and the despair 
 of adjectives ! I welcomed the unveiled sunshine 
 to the marrow of my bones, and thought 
 of Cleopatra and the Pharaohs. 
 There is no other land so strange 
 as this, nor any in 
 
 which the stranger 
 
 comes to feel himself 
 
 ally at home. At 
 
 dahaheah, and, 
 
 of December, I 
 
 of the 
 
 exchange 
 
 wriggle 
 
 back for the 
 
 and musical ripple 
 
 so soon 
 prehistoric- 
 last I hired a 
 on the fifteenth 
 began the ascent 
 Nile, not sorry to 
 the jolt and 
 
 ^_s~" 
 
 T of the donkey- 
 ziT smooth glide 
 of the Egyp 
 
 tian sail-boat. 
 Now ensued three weeks of enforced but delicious
 
 222 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 inactivity, during which I had leisure to digest 
 what I had seen, and to prepare myself for what 
 might be to come. Though the Nile flows out of 
 the dead past, it is itself any thing but lifeless. The 
 current runs rapidly; boats flit in all directions, 
 impelled by oar or sail; voices are continually 
 heard, in song, shout, and laughter ; wild geese sit 
 on the long sand strip or fly honking overhead. 
 Cairo, with its silvery domes and minarets, sinks 
 slowly beneath the northern horizon ; on our left, 
 beyond the desert, are the notched hills of Mokat- 
 tam; on our right, the wide valley, green with 
 abundant grain, beautiful with rows of palms, 
 noisy with the shrill voices of dark -robed women 
 clustered on the banks, populous with mud vil 
 lages and squatting, staring Arabs. Here and 
 there a sAac/oo/laboriously irrigates the plain, or, 
 higher up the river, the creaking sakia not less 
 primitively fulfils its office. The days are a long 
 glory of sunshine ; the nights, a soft splendor of 
 stars. We are sailing into the earliest twilight of 
 human history; but earth and sky were never 
 clearer or more bright. We lose all sense of time; 
 the mere luxury of existence obliterates it ; what is 
 a. lifetime compared with the immeasurable ages
 
 THE UNSEEN MAN S STORY. 223 
 
 which gaze down upon us from the margins of this 
 mighty stream ? 
 
 It was at the close of the first week in January 
 of the new year, that, coming on deck one morn 
 ing early, I saw opening before me the great valley 
 of Thebes. It was a splendid morning it seemed 
 to me even more splendid than usual. A couple of 
 vultures, sitting on the high western bank, rose in 
 the air and sailed aw r ay towards the Lybian hills, 
 whose clear gray outline cut the purple sky. Were 
 they going to seek for food in the tombs there? 
 The plain, of vast extent, and green as the 
 emerald, is unequally divided by the broad, swift 
 running of the Nile; of the ancient city nothing is 
 yet visible; though, with a good telescope, one 
 might perhaps discern in the southern distance the 
 forms of the twin colossi of the Pharaoh Amunoph, 
 and the matchless obelisk of Hatasoo Thothmes. 
 Nevertheless, a glow of memory and anticipation 
 came upon me ; for here was the scene of a civiliza 
 tion more sumptuous and earlier than any in 
 recorded history. For each stalk of grain that 
 waves now in the northern breeze, there was once 
 a living man, with ancestors before him and a pos 
 terity to follow ; and the energy, power, and mag 
 nificence of their existence has dwarfed and made
 
 224- six CENT SAM S. 
 
 pallid all that came after them. As we continued 
 .to move slowly up the stream, the world-famous 
 ruins loomed larger and more distinct ; and mud 
 villages of the present inhabitants, clustered near 
 or upon these gigantic fragments, \vere like the 
 nests of swallows under the eaves of a cathedral. 
 It seemed as if no being of less stature and ability 
 than Memnon himself could have hewn out and 
 piled together such immeasurable miracles of stone. 
 
 I had made my arrangements for a prolonged 
 stay in Thebes ; and as inns are not plentiful in 
 that region, I made a hotel, and a very comforta 
 ble one, of my dahaheah. We made fast near the 
 bank, close to the temple of Luxor, and \vhile I ate 
 my dinner Ahmed Hassan engaged in a personal 
 conflict with fifty or a hundred Arabs, who wanted 
 to sell the howadji all the spoils of Egypt, from the 
 time of Menes, the eternal, down to the latest 
 Ptolemy. Presently I came on deck, and getting 
 into our boat, Ahmed and I were rowed across to 
 the western shore, where donkeys and more Arabs 
 \vere awaiting us, and prepared to take a prelim 
 inary gallop in the direction of Karnak, a mile or 
 two down the river. 
 
 Among the Arabs I noticed one man, who,
 
 THE UNSEEN MAN S STORY. 
 
 225 
 
 though with them, was evidently not of them. 
 
 He was tall, and of digni 
 fied bearing, and his full 
 beard, which was nearly 
 white, fell down over his. 
 breast. His eyes were 
 blue, and very bright; 
 their glance was penetrat 
 ing, but restless. His com 
 plexion, though tanned 
 by the sun, had been orig 
 inally fair ; his broad fore 
 head was partly concealed 
 by a white turban, and! 
 he \vore full Turkish 
 trousers gathered at the 
 knee, while over his close- 
 fitting undergarment was 
 thrown a flowing cloak, 
 which he gathered about him as he stood. In 
 spite of his oriental costume, however, I was quite 
 sure this man was not of Eastern birth ; and the 
 manner in which he had scrutinized my face and 
 appearance seemed to indicate that his interest in 
 me, if he had any, w r as of another kind than would 
 be felt bv a real son of the desert.
 
 226 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 "Who is that?" I inquired of Ahmed, as we 
 jogged along. 
 
 "He? Oh, he ver strange man, come here long 
 time, tink from Europe. Five year ten year 
 allays see he; he ver wise say he crazy." 
 
 "What is his name?" 
 
 "Oh, not know right name; call he Kehr-el-Lans 
 Effendi. He go much tomba; mebbe hunt antika; 
 but not know." 
 
 "Does he live here ? " 
 
 "Tink he live Temple Medinet Abou. We go 
 bimeby mebbe find he. Plenty time talk he." 
 
 There was an impression on my mind that I 
 had heard something about this mysterious per 
 sonage ; but it "was too vague at the moment, to 
 enable me to analyze it ; and the overpowering 
 spectacle of Karnak effectually put the matter out 
 of my head for the time being. But, a few days 
 afterward, we visited Medinet Abou ; and while I 
 was endeavoring to determine, with the aid of 
 Ahmed and a guide book, which portion of the 
 ruins was the later work, and which that of the 
 sister of Thothmes, the same dignified figure that 
 I had seen on the river bank suddenly appeared 
 from behind a neighboring column; and after 
 saluting me gravely, proceeded, with much cour-
 
 THE UNSEEN MAN S STORY. 227 
 
 tesy, and in the French tongue, to enlighten me on 
 the question. It was soon evident that he was 
 profoundly versed in the lore of ancient Egypt; 
 and I was particularly struck with his manner 
 when mentioning Hatasoo Thothmes ; or, as he 
 called her, Queen Amunuhet. His voice, \vhen pro 
 nouncing her name, was lowered to a reverential 
 murmur ; and he passed the palm of his hand down 
 his face from his forehead to his chin an oriental 
 gesture signifying homage. 
 
 "She was a remarkable woman," I ventured to 
 observe. 
 
 "There was none like her," hereplied. "Shehad 
 many subjects, many worshipers; and one at 
 least," he added, with a sigh, and clasping his 
 hands on his heart, "still survives, and walks the 
 earth in the likeness of a man ! " 
 
 At this moment I was visited by an inspiration 
 of memory; the recollection of my friend 
 Haymaker s injunction flashed over me. "Pardon 
 me if the question is indiscreet," I said, "but 
 have I not the honor of addressing Monsieur 
 Carigliano? " 
 
 He bowed slightly. "I once bore that name," 
 he replied. "But, for twenty years, since I have 
 lived here, it has been as a mask which I have cast
 
 228 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 aside. My true name might, perhaps, be found on 
 one of these stones; but it has never been uttered 
 by living lips." 
 
 "So this," I thought to myself, "is Haymaker s 
 charming old maniac! His acquaintance cer 
 tainly seems to be worth cultivating. To hear 
 him talk, one would suppose he had enjoyed per 
 sonal relations with a princess who died thirty-five 
 hundred years ago ! That is a form of mania that 
 ought to be enquired into." Aloud I said, "I wish 
 I might hope to enjoy the benefit of further inter 
 course with you. I am deeply interested in all 
 that appertains to the history of the Pharaohs ; 
 and especially," I added, meeting his eyes, "in the 
 age of the great Thothmes." 
 
 The change of expression that lightened his face 
 showed me that I had touched a favorable chord, 
 "It is a long time," he said, "since I have held 
 converse with a member of what are called the 
 civilized races ; but I feel moved to speak to you ; 
 and, since you express interest in a matter nearly 
 affecting me, it \vill give me pleasure to oblige you. 
 If you will come to this spot to-morrow evening 
 alone, I will take you to my abode, and do my best 
 to give you satisfaction." I thanked him heartily, 
 and promised to be on hand; he bowed, again
 
 THE UNSEEN MAN S STORY. 229 
 
 saluted me gravely, and, retiring, was soon lost to 
 sight behind the huge, thickly planted columns of 
 the wondrous temple. 
 
 When I explained to Ahmed the purport of our 
 conversation, he strongly advised me to have 
 nothing to do with the adventure. He declared 
 that " Kehr-el-Lans Effendi 1 was a powerful 
 magician, and was quite capable of putting me 
 under a spell and shutting me up for a thousand 
 years in some forgotten tomb of the hills. He was 
 often heard conversing in an unknown tongue with 
 spectres ; and was suspected of kidnapping the 
 babies of the neighboring poor people, and offering 
 them up as sacrifices to the heathen deities, whom 
 he was supposed to worship. At the very least, 
 Ahmed added, this redoubtable wizard \vould in 
 some way compel me to pay for my escape from 
 his clutches with an immense sum of money. In 
 spite of these warnings, however, I held to my pur 
 pose ; and about sunset the next day, I presented 
 myself, alone, at the appointed spot. In a few 
 minutes Carigliano made his appearance ; and I 
 followed him through the ruins for a distance of per 
 haps fifty yards. I then saw him stoop, and push 
 against a slab of granite, set in an apparently solid 
 portion of the temple wall. It moved, as if upon a
 
 230 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 hidden pivot, and disclosed a flight of steps leading" 
 downward. The darkness w as intense ; and for a 
 moment I hesitated. Having come so far, how 
 ever, I was determined to see the end of the adven 
 ture, and I accordingly descended. I heard his- 
 footsteps preceding me; and then a light flashed 
 up, and I found myself in a subterranean chamber 
 which bore evidence of being used as an abode. It 
 was of fair height, and about twenty feet in length 
 by fifteen in width. The w r alls \vere of polished 
 stone, engraved with pictures and hieroglyphics, 
 It contained a mattrass, and various simple but 
 sufficient appliances of life. Everything was neat 
 and clean, and the air \vas pure, though the 
 method of ventilation was not apparent. The 
 light proceeded from a large lamp of antique 
 design \vhich depended from the ceiling. 
 
 Some cushions at the head of the room served as- 
 a divan, and upon this Carigliano motioned me to- 
 be seated, w^hile he brought forward two long- 
 stemmed pipes, w^hich we lighted and smoked. For 
 some time our conversation was laconic, and on 
 indifferent topics. But at length my entertainer 
 took the pipe from his lips, fixed his eyes upon me, 
 and spoke as follows :
 
 THE UNSEEN MAN S STORY. 231 
 
 "I have admitted you to this chamber, whither 
 no other guest has ever penetrated, not merely for 
 the sake of gratifying your curiosity, but because 
 the time has come when if ever the history of 
 my life must be unfolded. To-morrow it will be 
 twenty years since the event occurred which 
 revealed to me my destiny ; and yours are the last 
 mortal eyes that will behold me. Before I vanish 
 forever, I desire to leave some testimony behind 
 me as to my past and my future. 
 
 " I came to Egypt at twenty-eight years of age, 
 as an attache of a scientific expedition sent hereby 
 the French government. My technical duties were 
 to decipher and to take copies of the more impor 
 tant hieroglyphic writings and inscriptions in the 
 tombs and temples. But I had, for a number of 
 years previous, given my whole attention to the 
 study of ancient Egyptian subjects, and was, even 
 at that time, more profoundly versed than any 
 other scholar in its problems and mysteries. I had 
 always felt an especial and peculiar inclination 
 toward these researches ; it seemed to me far more 
 like recalling \vhat I had once known, than as 
 breaking absolutely new ground in knowledge. 
 The scenes and persons of the days of the Pha 
 raohs \vere as vivid in my imagination as the
 
 232 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 memories of yesterday; I spoke their language and 
 I comprehended their wisdom. And when, for the 
 first time, I breathed the air of the Nile valley, and 
 felt the sand of the desert beneath my feet, and 
 beheld the mighty monuments of a vanished 
 past, a voice in my heart seemed to tell me that 
 this was no foreign country, but my home. 
 
 It w r as here in Thebes that my duties chiefly 
 lay, and it was here, also, that the^ mysterious 
 home-feeling was most strong. From the first, I 
 needed no guide ; each step I took was on familiar 
 ground ; and as I gazed over the valley of ruins, 
 some secret faculty of my mind reconstructed the 
 scenes of four thousand years ago, and I saw once 
 more the splendid city throbbing with life and 
 sparkling with wealth, and witnessed the triumph 
 of the kings, the processions and sacrifices of the 
 priests, the glittering array of the soldiers, and the 
 throng and tumult of the people. It was awaking 
 dream, but it made the reality of the present seem 
 unsubstantial. And ever and anon especially 
 when sauntering about the ruins of this temple I 
 was sensible of another feeling: a strange tremor 
 and yearning of the heart, which I could not under 
 stand, yet w r hich, could I have fathomed it, would,
 
 THE UNSEEN MAN S STORY. 233 
 
 I thought, have proved the key whereby all else 
 that was perplexing might be unlocked. 
 
 "One morning I arose early, and took my sketch 
 ing materials, intending to spend the day in one or 
 other of the great tombs that honeycomb the 
 western hills. A foot-path leads over the ridge 
 beyond Medinet Abou, a track of powdered lime 
 stone, and so, by a steep descent, brings one to 
 the naked and desolate gorges beyond, \vhere the 
 Pharaohs were entombed. On reaching the sum 
 mit of this ridge, I turned, and for a few moments 
 gazed back on the wide valley of the Egyptian 
 capital. The sun had just risen; its light flashed 
 across the long curve of the Nile, and touched the 
 lips of Memnon, as he sat eternal on his throne, his 
 shadow falling far behind him over the green 
 expanse of waving grain at his base. Involunta 
 rily I bent forward, as if to catch the music of the 
 response which, as tradition says, the colossal 
 deity was wont to make to the salutation of the 
 sun-god. And, in truth, a deep, melodious sound 
 seemed to resound in the air though whether pro 
 ceeding from Memnon s lips, or from the heavens 
 above, or from the depths of my own breast, I 
 could not tell; a sound that resolved itself into 
 words, saying, Pass on, thou favored one, and
 
 234 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 fear not ! Thy queen awaits thee ! And down I 
 rode into the shadow and silence of the abyss of 
 tombs. 
 
 Threading my way among loose bowlders, and 
 down a narrow and devious track, I reached the 
 bottom of the descent, and wound along the 
 length of the ravine. It had been my first inten 
 tion to enter one of the tombs of the kings ; but I 
 was impelled to press onward, and at length I 
 entered another gorge, lying further toward the 
 heart of the hills, which, as I knew, had been set 
 apart for the interment of the queens of Egypt. 
 Here, a sense of solitude more profound than any 
 I had before experienced came over me ; but accom 
 panying it, and even arising out of it, was a feeling 
 of being conducted and inspired by some intelli 
 gence or personality not my own. I fell into an 
 abstracted mood, in which I scarcely noted the 
 way I was going ; until at length I came involun 
 tarily to a pause, and, as it were, awoke, and gazed 
 around me. 
 
 "I was in a region so wild and savage, so naked 
 and desolate, that it seemed as if no hum an being, 
 before me, could ever have penetrated there. 
 Rocky walls, wholly devoid of vegetation, arose on 
 each side, and climbed heavenward, as if they
 
 THE UNSEEN MAN S STORY. 235 
 
 would meet in the depths of the purple sky. Loose 
 fragments of limestone hung on the ledges of the 
 precipices, or lay in confused masses on the narrow 
 floor of the tortuous valley. The sun, now some 
 hours high, flung its ^vliite luster on the western 
 walls, yet only the upper portion of them was 
 illuminated. No sign of life, not even an insect or 
 a bird, disturbed the stillness ; no sound was 
 audible but the hoof-tramps of the ass that I 
 bestrode, which were echoed in exaggerated 
 volume from the imprisoning cliffs. On my left 
 hand was a vertical face of rock, the base seeming 
 to rest upon a mounded slope, composed of 
 detached and shattered blocks. I dismounted and 
 clambered up this ascent, and then beheld, to my 
 surprise, the distinct outlines of a picture graven 
 into the limestone. It covered a space about four 
 feet in length and breadth ; and from its unusual 
 situation, as well as from its remarkable intrinsic 
 character, it strongly fixed my attention. It rep 
 resented the body of a woman, apparently of 
 high rank, lying on a pallet; and as I judged from 
 certain accessories, about to be prepared for 
 embalming. But beside her stood the figure of a 
 man in soldier s garb, who, with outstretched 
 hand, seemed about to take the woman s heart
 
 23(3 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 from her bosom. Some of the details of the picture 
 indicated that it dated back as far as the time of 
 Thothmes the period of the Hebrew Exodus; 
 and yet the cutting of the lines was as sharp and 
 undefaced as if the artist had but just given the 
 finishing stroke of the chisel. 
 
 "I lost no time in setting up my easel, and, pre 
 paring to make a careful copy of this picture, I sat 
 on a detached fragment of stone, \vith my right 
 hand toward the face of the cliff; and in drawing 
 I rested my hand on the mahl-stick, the end of 
 which, for convenience, I rested against the design 
 I was copying. As, from time to time, I had 
 occasion to alter the position of my hand and of 
 the mahl-stick, it happened that its point at 
 length rested upon that part of the picture where 
 was represented the heart of the woman upon the 
 pallet. At the same moment I was conscious of a 
 slight jar, causing me to make a false stroke; and 
 the mahl-stick slipped from its place. I looked up 
 and saw what I had not noticed before that the 
 entire surface of the stone upon which the picture 
 was engraven was sunk some distance below the 
 surrounding surface of the rock. The depression 
 was slight, not more than half an inch ; but as I 
 looked, it became gradually deeper and } r et more
 
 THE UNSEEN MAN S STORY. 237 
 
 deep ; it was now two inches and still increasing. 
 In the course of a few minutes, the pictured stone 
 had receded as much as a foot, with a steady but 
 slowly accelerating movement. Overcome with 
 wonder, I continued to gaze at this singular phe 
 nomenon, until the stone was nearly out of sight. 
 The direction it took was slightly inclined upward; 
 and I perceived that the polished surfaces upon 
 which it traveled were finely grooved, the grooves 
 corresponding with ridges in the moving stone, 
 which fitted into the former. 
 
 "By this time I had in some degree recovered my 
 self-possession, and resolved to pursue the investi 
 gation ofthis marvel. I had brought a small lamp 
 with me, for use in the tombs, and this I now 
 lighted, and holding it in my hand, I crawled into 
 r the cavity left by the receding stone. This cavity 
 was now about ten feet in depth, the sides as 
 smooth as glass, and ascending at an angle of 
 about twenty degrees. But after following it a 
 little further, there was a sudden enlargement to 
 double the former dimensions. I was now able to 
 stand upright, and to walk on a passage beside the 
 moving stone, instead of following in its track, as 
 heretofore. It continued to travel upward beside 
 me; and I now discovered that the immediate
 
 238 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 cause of its ascent was a fine but strong cable of 
 bronze, which \vas fastened to its inner side, and 
 was being drawn inward by some force beyond. 
 The push which I had accidentally given with the 
 mahl-stick to that particular spot in the picture 
 which represented the woman s heart, had prob 
 ably given the impetus which set the machinery 
 in motion. 
 
 " After proceeding up the slippery incline for per 
 haps a hundred feet, I came to a level space, reach 
 ing to an unknown extent beyond, above, and on 
 each hand. And here, by the dusky light of my 
 lamp, I saw the semblance of a human figure, 
 slowly and steadily turning the handle of a 
 machine resembling a windlass, to the body of 
 which the bronze cable was attached, and around 
 which it was being wound. The figure wore the * 
 Egyptian head-dress and garb, and his face and 
 limbs were of a brown hue; but so regular and 
 rigid w^ere his movements, and so imperfect was 
 the light that I could not decide whether he w^as 
 indeed a human being, or only himself a cunningly 
 wrought part of the machine. I spoke to him but he 
 returned no answer ; and my own voice died away 
 in a hollow whisper. As I stood there, the stone 
 \vhich had closed the entrance to the passage
 
 THE UNSEEN MAN S STORY. 239 
 
 reached the summit of the ascent ; and the figure, 
 -after putting a check in the cog of his wheel, sank 
 down beside it, with his face upon his knees, and 
 
 his hands clasped around his a.nkles, and became 
 motionless in the attitude which, perhaps, had 
 been undisturbed till now for more than thirty 
 centuries.
 
 240 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 Shading my lamp with my hand, I moved 
 along the walls of the chamber, which lay trans 
 versely across the ascending passage by which 1 
 had come. It was lined with white stucco on 
 which were painted in brilliant colors such scenes 
 of the daily life and habits of the Egyptians, as are 
 customarily found on the walls of tombs. At 
 length I came to an opening nearly opposite that 
 by which I had entered; a corridor extending" 
 further into the mountain. After following it for 
 awhile, I was brought to an other corridor at right 
 angles to it, going in both directions. I chose the 
 turn to the left, and soon came to another turn, 
 which descended for a long distance, and, just as it 
 seemed to come to an end, admitted me into a hall 
 much larger than the first, and more richly deco 
 rated. Here were represented the various cere 
 monies of the dead, the liturgies relating to their 
 travels in the realm of shades, together with astro 
 nomical designs, and figures of monsters and of 
 deities. In the center of the room, moreover, stood 
 a large sarcophagus, richly engraved and orna 
 mented, but empty. Here my explorations had 
 apparently come to an end, for there was no visible 
 outlet from the chamber. Accustomed as I was, 
 however, to the concealments of these gigantic
 
 THE UNSEEN MAN S STORY. 241 
 
 excavations, I felt assured that the end was not 
 yet ; and when I applied my shoulder to the upper 
 end of the sarcophagus, it yielded to the pressure, 
 and sliding forward, disclosed an oblong aperture 
 in the floor beneath it, into which I unhesitatingly 
 descended ; and after wandering blindly for some 
 minutes, first in one direction and then in another, 
 I discerned a gleam of light in front of me, and, the 
 the next moment, entered an apartment the solemn 
 grandeur of which seemed a fitting culmination of 
 all that had preceded it. 
 
 "In the center of the lofty ceiling \vasa represen 
 tation of the winged sun; and from it, or through 
 it, proceeded a soft but powerful light, like that of 
 phosphorescence in its nature, though bright 
 enough to fill every corner of the vast hall with a 
 clear radiance. The walls glowed with color, and 
 here were the sacred figures of Isis and Osiris, of 
 Horus, of Athor, Aimbis, Ptah, and Nofre Atmos. 
 But these things scarcely impressed themselves on 
 my senses, for I was arrested by a far greater 
 marvel. The figures on the walls \vere but 
 shadows ; but the floor of this mighty chamber 
 was populous with forms of concrete substance ; 
 with men and women who breathed and moved 
 and lived. They lived, and yet it scarcelv seemed 
 
 16
 
 242 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 like life, so slow, so almost imperceptible were 
 their movements. It was as if the space of an 
 ordinary lifetime had been drawn out, forthem, to 
 the measure of myriad* years ; that days were to 
 them as moments, and years as hours, and centu 
 ries as years ; that while the breath came and went 
 through their nostrils, a moon might wax and 
 wane ; and that the lifting of their faces was as 
 the turning of the earth upon its axis. It was, 
 perhaps, the dry, unchanging atmosphere of this 
 region, hidden deep beneath the heart of the moun 
 tain, and separated from the world without for so 
 many hundred years, that had \vrought this 
 torpor in them ; I myself had become already sen 
 sible of an alteration in the beating of my pulse 
 and a subtle lethargy in my movements. At first, 
 as I looked upon this strange assemblage, they 
 seemed each one to have paused, in the accomplish 
 ment of some characteristic act. One swarthy 
 figure was shaping a necklet of gold brought from 
 the deadly mines of Ethiopia ; another, with mallet 
 uplifted, was chiseling a statue; still another, held 
 in his hand a scarabseus, which he was about to 
 polish. In another place, a man was in the act of 
 blowing glass ; near him was one with colors and 
 a brush, making as if to add another touch to his
 
 THE UNSEEN MAN S STORY. 243 
 
 picture; others were in the attitude of turning the 
 potter s wheel, of breaking flax, or of playing 
 draughts. In one corner of the room were a group 
 of women seated on the ground, with a ball which 
 they seemed about to toss from one to another. 
 But, as I contemplated them, their apparent insen 
 sibility resolved itself into motion, and I saw that 
 they were not carven images, but that the hearts 
 which had begun to beat when Moses was an 
 infant, still sent the blood through their veins, 
 though in pulses as measured as the tides of ocean. 
 "Meanwhile, my presence was seemingly 
 unnoticed; no eye had met mine, and I was as appar 
 ently invisible to them as if the abyss of ages that 
 lay between us had been as wide in space as it was 
 in time. But, as I paused near the entrance of the 
 hall, uncertain what to do, my ears caught a faint 
 sound of solemn music ; a portal of stone at the 
 opposite extremity of the vista was slowly unfolded 
 and from it issued, \vithlingeringbutmajestic step, 
 SL stately procession. First came boys, bearing 
 censers in the form of a golden arm, in the hollowed 
 hand of which burned fragrant balls of kyphi, dif 
 fusing a heavy perfume. Then followed an array 
 of tall and grave-looking men in white robes, and 
 wearing on their foreheads the sacred ostrich
 
 244 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 feather, emblem of truth, and sign of the initiated 
 priest. Next came a bevy of attendants, men and 
 women, brilliantly attired, some carrying vessels 
 of Phoenician glass that sparkled in the light; and 
 one who bore on high and shook aloft the golden 
 sistrum, with its bars and rings, emblem of Venus, 
 Finally, borne in a litter on the shoulders of twelve 
 Nubian slaves, appeared a woman, at the sight of 
 whom my heart stood still and my breath failed 
 me. She was dusky as the Nile at evening, and 
 beautiful with a beauty that belongs to the morn 
 ing of the world. Her eyes were long, black, and 
 brilliant ; and their gaze was royal. The outline 
 of her smooth cheeks was oval, and her features 
 were the features of the Pharaohs, but softened 
 with all the loveliness of a woman. Above her low, 
 broad forehead was placed the stately head-dress 
 of an Egyptian princess ; and, from her left temple, 
 a long black braid, plaited with golden threads, 
 hung down to her feet, as a sign of her royal line 
 age. Her robe was purple, and of a tissue so deli 
 cate that the contours of her perfect form were 
 discernible through its silky folds. Round her 
 neck, and resting upon her bosom was a broad 
 collar woven of pearls and precious stones; her 
 arms were encircled by bracelets of massive gold,
 
 THE UNSEEN MAN S STORY. 
 
 245 
 
 and in her girdle were woven turquoises from Ser- 
 bal, talismans of good fortune. At her right hand 
 crouched a monkey, sacred to Thoth, the god or 
 
 her race ; and 
 on her left a 
 white cat 
 from Persia, 
 
 i n w h o s e 
 long silky fur the 
 slender fingers 01 
 the princess were 
 hidden. 
 
 hen the bearers of the 
 litter reached the center 
 of the hall, beneath the 
 illuminated semblance ot 
 inged sun, the} knelt and 
 y lowered their burden 
 floor. Then, with a lei- 
 movement, the princess 
 ind stood erect to her full 
 t, and her eyes slowly 
 fixed themselves upon mine, 
 for I remained opposite to 
 her, in a vacant space alone ; 
 
 and a spell seemed to be upon me, so that I could
 
 246 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 move neither hand nor foot, nor remove my gaze 
 from her transcendent countenance ; yet it seemed 
 to me a countenance that I had seen before, and 
 had known well, and passionately loved. And it 
 seemed to me that I was not myself, or that a 
 truer self than I had hitherto known looked 
 through my eyes and breathed through my 
 nostrils. 
 
 "Then the princess spoke, in slow and measured 
 tones, and in the clear tongue of ancient Egypt 
 that I knew and remembered as mv own. 
 
 " Man, she said, art thou he for whom I have 
 waited? 
 
 "And I answered her, I am Pantour, the son of 
 Amosis. 
 
 "And she said, Dost thoii know me? 
 
 "And I answered, Thou art Amunuhet the 
 queen, the sister of Pharoah ; thou art she who 
 didst build the temple and the obelisk, and didst 
 perform many might v works. 
 
 "And she said, Speak on, Pantour, and tell what 
 thou knowest. 
 
 "And I said, O queen, I loved thee; and thou 
 didst deign to return my love. And our love -was- 
 hidden, that none might know it. And in the 
 midst of our love death came to thee. And when
 
 THE UNSEEN .MAN S STORY. 247 
 
 thy body was prepared for the embalmers, I stood 
 beside thee, and there was none to see me. And I 
 put forth my hand and took thy heart out of thy 
 bosom ; because, I said, " My heart is hers : let me, 
 therefore, keep her heart in the stead of it." And 
 I kept thy heart, and none knew what I had done. 
 But when death overtook me also, I called my 
 friend to me and charged him, saying: "When I 
 am dead, take thou my heart from my bosom and 
 put in the place of it the heart of the Queen Amun- 
 uhet, whom I loved, but my heart thou shalt burn 
 upon the altar of Osiris." And he swore to me to 
 do as I had commanded. And in that same hour 
 my spirit departed. 
 
 "Then the queen answered, Thou hast said. 
 Hear, now, what things have befallen me. For, 
 when I entered into Kar-Neter, Osiris appeared to 
 me, and mine eyes were dazzled, and my limbs were 
 as if without life ; neither could I speak, or eat 
 food, or do battle with my enemies. But I prayed 
 to the gods, and behold, my strength returned to 
 me ; and holding the sacred beetle above my head, 
 I entered into Hades. Then did Typhon assail me 
 with many monsters, and I fought sore combats 
 \vith them ; and I had been overcome, but that 
 Nir gave me to eat of the tree of life, and the
 
 248 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 Divine Light instructed me. So I went on, and 
 passed through many changes, and at last I 
 entered once more into the body from which I had 
 gone forth ; and then, undergoing many trials and 
 temptations, I sailed down the river that flows 
 under the foundations of the world, and gained the 
 Elysian fields. Then was I brought to the great 
 judgment hall, w r here sat Osiris and the two and 
 forty assessors, and to them I confessed both my 
 evil and my good. But when they brought the 
 scales of justice, with the ostrich feather of truth 
 in the balance, and would have weighed my heart 
 against the ostrich feather, behold the heart was 
 gone out of my bosom. Then the judges took counsel 
 together and said, "Thou shalt wait three thou 
 sand years, and half a thousand years, and he 
 who took thy heart from thee shall come before 
 thee; and if he will deliver ituptothee again, thou 
 shalt enter into the bliss of Osiris." Now, there 
 fore, the time is come. Deliver back to me that 
 which thou didst take from me; and when thou 
 hast fulfilled thy course, and conquered Typhon, 
 and overcome temptations, thou shalt afterward 
 be united to me in the kingdom of Osiris, and the 
 bliss of us twain shall be unto everlasting. 
 "Thus spake the Queen Amunuhet; and when
 
 THE UNSEEN MAN S STORY. 249 
 
 she had made an end of speaking, she sat on her 
 throne, and waved her hand to the chief of priests, 
 that he should take me, and lay me on the altar, 
 and pluck her heart out of my breast. But then 
 great fear came upon me, insomuch that I turned 
 and fled away from before her. My limbs were as 
 though sheathed in lead, and though I strove 
 mightily, my steps were slow, for the air of the 
 tomb had entered into my lungs, and all power of 
 swiftness was gone from me. But the chief of the 
 priests, and the other priests, and the attendants, 
 pursued me; and though their steps also were 
 slow, yet, by reason of the air that had entered 
 the tomb irom the outer \vorld, they gathered ever 
 new strength and swiftness ; so that it seemed as 
 if I must be taken. Nevertheless, striving with all 
 my might, I gained the upper platform where sat 
 he who worked upon the windlass that lifted the 
 stone from the entrance ; and even then the hands 
 of my pursuers were upon me. And he of the wind 
 lass arose, and loosed the check from the wheel, 
 and the great stone slid down the incline toward 
 its place. But I also plunged downward, and 
 came in front of the stone as it descended, and was 
 swept out before it, and the entrance was closed 
 behind me; and I fell, and knew no more."
 
 250 six CENT SAM S 
 
 Here Carigliano paused, and bending forward as 
 he sat, hid his face upon his knees. During several 
 minutes there was silence; for he had spoken 
 toward the close in a strain of exalted earnestness 
 and passion ; and the spell of his words was upon 
 me. No doubt, the man must be mad ; but his hal 
 lucination was so remarkable, and his expression, 
 of it so eloquent that, for the time being, I could 
 not regain the equilibrium of my judgment. 
 
 "It was a narrow escape! " I said, at last. 
 
 He sat erect, passed his hand over his forehead, 
 and sighed. "It was a dastardty escape!" he 
 replied; "and for these twenty years past I have 
 repented it. I \vas found that evening by some 
 w r andering Arab, and taken back to Luxor. For 
 some weeks I was ill with a fever; when I recov 
 ered, I tried in vain to find again the pictured 
 stone; I have never set eyes upon it since. But, 
 after a year of fruitless quest, Queen Amunuhet 
 came tome one night in a dream, and told me that 
 if, after waiting twenty years, I was prepared to 
 make the restitution that she had demanded of 
 me, the place of her tomb should be once more 
 revealed to me, and I might enter in and deliver 
 myself up to the altar. To-morrow the period of 
 trial will be fulfilled, and I shall be seen of men no
 
 THE UNSKKN MAN S STORY. 
 
 251 
 
 more. You are the last to hear my voice, and to 
 look upon my face. Henceforth, Pantour, the son 
 of Amosis, belongs to the dead alone." 
 
 Soon after I returned to America, my friend Hay 
 maker and I dined at Delmonico s; but I paid for 
 the dinner. 
 
 "By the way," he exclaimed, as we sat over our 
 coffee, "did you ever run across that fellow 
 Carigliano?" 
 
 "Yes, "I replied. 
 
 "Charming old maniac, isn t he?"continued my 
 friend. 
 
 "He was a remarkable person, certainly." 
 
 " I think of running over to Egypt next winter, 
 and I will make a point of looking him up again," 
 said Haymaker, lighting a cigar. 
 
 "You won t find him," I answered. "The day 
 after I last saw him he disappeared, and has never
 
 252 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 been seen or heard of since. But, from certain indi 
 cations, it was thought he had wandered into the 
 ruins of the tombs of the queens; probably he 
 found his way into one of them and never got out 
 again. He had related some of his history to me 
 the day before ; and certain hints that he let fall 
 have made me suspect that he had a foreshadow 
 ing of what was to befall him." 
 
 "Poor fellow," said Haymaker. " What a pity ! 
 Romantic, too ! Told you his story, did he ? What 
 was it?" 
 
 "It s eleven o clock," said I; "I m going to 
 bed." 
 
 "Or you might write it out," continued my 
 friend, as we put on our hats. "You re always 
 writing things ; and I dare say you might find 
 somebody to print it." 
 
 "I like a good ghost story," remarked Sam; 
 " and this was one of a rather uncommon kind." 
 
 "It certainly was," replied the author. "I was 
 not aware that ghosts remained in good condition 
 so long as three thousand years." 
 
 "Philosophers tell us," put in a plump, swarthy 
 gentleman of about five and thirty years, seated
 
 THE SYMPOSIUM. 253 
 
 next but one to the captain, "that time has no 
 existence in the spiritual world ; and we read in the 
 good Book that A thousand years are but as yes 
 terday. As this is a time for stories, I would like 
 to tell you of a little experience of my own that 
 goes to show that three thousand years is by no 
 means the remotest date in matters of this kind." 
 
 "Go ahead, sir," said Sam; "I dare say, for my 
 part, that a ghost is like good wine the older the 
 better." 
 
 Thus encouraged, the swarthy gentleman unbur 
 dened his mind in this manner :
 
 :254 
 
 SIX CENT SAM S. 
 
 THE SWARTHY MAN S STORY. 
 
 HE peculiar conditions of my 
 birth probably accounted for 
 my exceptional organization. 
 It was a long time before 
 I realized this, or that 
 r I was different from oth 
 ers. This ignorance on 
 
 \ 
 
 my part occasioned me a 
 ;reat deal of perplexity, and 
 doubtless led others to 
 believe that I was unbal- 
 \ anced in my mind. When 
 I happened to speak about 
 things that were as familiar 
 to my apprehension as 
 chairs and tables \vere to 
 the vulgar, they stared, and 
 either shook their heads ominously, or laughed. 
 This lack of sympathy surprised and hurt me, and, 
 in the end, made me hold my tongue and keep 
 aloof from them. But although I felt myself a 
 Pariah, I did not comprehend the reason of it. I 
 imagined it must be because I was ugly, or, in
 
 THE SWARTHY MAN S STORY. 255 
 
 some way, disagreeable. As a matter of fact, I 
 was far from being an ill-favored boy, and my 
 manners were quiet and conciliating. 
 
 I have no personal recollection of my mother. 
 Her temperament was characterized by the obscure 
 affection known to pathology as hysteria. Names 
 are useful, but they seldom explain anything. On 
 the contrary, they often delude us into fancying 
 that we understand things that are really a mys 
 tery to us. As regards my mother, I might say 
 that her normal condition was what is commonly 
 known as an abnormal one ; in other words, more 
 than half her life was spent in the state of trance. 
 Her story was about as strange a one as my own; 
 but it is the latter only that I am now to relate. 
 I will only say that it was during one of her pro 
 longed trances that I came into the world; and 
 that \vhen, some days or weeks afterward, she 
 " awoke," as it is called, she did not know her own 
 infant. Thereafter, my father kept her almost con 
 tinually entranced ; and in that condition, a year 
 later, she expired. 
 
 As for my father, he was, so far as my "knowl 
 edge of him goes, a man of brains. With a few 
 modifications in his organization, he would have 
 been a great man of science. But these were lack-
 
 256 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 ing or shall I say he rose above them ? and he 
 became a mystic. He studied the spirit, and its 
 connection with the body. He sought the final 
 analysis of matter, and hew to control it ; time 
 and space were to him subjective conditions of the 
 mind concretely interpreted. I did not know until 
 long afterward, the extent of his researches and 
 attainments. He conversed with me but seldom,, 
 and never 011 those topics. He was, of course, 
 aware of mv exceptional congenital powers, but I 
 am not sure that he ever made use of them for his: 
 own ends. His manner was habitually cold, and 
 it never occurred to me that he felt any affection 
 for me. And yet I am sure, now, that he must 
 have done so. Perhaps he foresaw that the culti 
 vation of my strange faculty could bring me only 
 unhappiness, and therefore forbore to encourage 
 me in it, although the forbearance cost him much 
 information that he \vould have valued. But 
 nature will have its way, and I found my fate in 
 spite of his restraint. 
 
 He died while I was on the boundary between 
 boyhood and manhood. He left me a sufficient 
 fortune, and a library which, though not very 
 large, was worth to one who knew how to use it 
 its weight in gold. I did not know how to use it ;.
 
 THE SWARTHY MAN S STORY. 257 
 
 at all events, I never examined it, or informed 
 myself even as to the titles of the volumes. The 
 only books I cared to read were \vorks of fiction, 
 narratives of travel and adventure, and treatises 
 on history and astronomy. Music and poetrvalso 
 gave me intense pleasure, though, as regards 
 music, my taste could not be called conventional. 
 I most enjoyed the simplest harmonies; and I am 
 disposed to think that I was able to hear sounds 
 that are inaudible to most people. For instance, 
 there is a distinct and exquisite music produced by 
 alternate sunshine and shadow drifting across the 
 meadows, on a day when the sky is peopled with 
 masses of white cloud ; and, of summer evenings, 
 the precipitation of dew is accompanied by a sub 
 tle sound, rising and falling like the strains of an 
 ^Eolian harp, but, of course, infinitely more refined 
 than that. I could mention many similar exam 
 ples. And this sensitiveness of hearing was accom 
 panied by a corresponding acuteness of vision. 
 Not that I could see to a greater distance, or 
 detect more minute objects than the average of 
 persons, but I plainly perceived things -which were 
 as invisible to the telescope and microscope as to 
 the ordinary unassisted ej^esight. 
 
 This faculty, however, varied in me exceedingly;
 
 258 
 
 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 if my mind were disturbed or I were suffering from 
 any physical disorder, it almost ceased to act. 
 
 ^J*v- 
 
 Bvit, in a serene mood, I have 
 seen waves of color, of hue 
 and intensity varying with 
 
 the note and the 
 position, pro 
 ceeding from 
 the vibrating 
 strings of a 
 harp or 
 w a k i n g 
 confirmed 
 most who 
 mesmeric 
 sons are 
 ored ema- 
 formableto 
 But this is 
 while conversing 
 observing: him 
 
 r 
 
 violin ; and my 
 sight has constantly 
 the fact, familiar to 
 have experienced the 
 trance, that all per 
 surrounded by a col 
 nation or sphere, con 
 their several natures. 
 not all. Sometimes, 
 with a man, or 
 quietly, I have seen 
 besides him. I knew 
 ures to be immaterial, 
 
 other figures 
 these fig- 
 but it would be 
 impossible to say by what signs I was able to dis 
 tinguish them from concrete persons. There were
 
 THE SWARTHY MAN S STORY. 259 
 
 generally four of the spiritual forms attached to 
 each individual; and there was a strong resem 
 blance on their part to him with whom they were 
 associated. The man himself never appeared con 
 scious of their presence; but I noticed that both 
 his sayings and his actions were indirectly inspired 
 by these attendants, though he possessed the 
 power of choosing which pair of them he would be 
 prompted by whether by the evil pair or the good. 
 These phenomena, familiar to me as they were 
 from my childhood up, never, so far as I can 
 remember, occasioned me any surprise; thev 
 seemed altogether natural and reasonable, 
 although, as I have already remarked, I soon 
 found that no one else experienced them, and I 
 therefore ceased to make any allusion to them. 
 After my father s death, I continued to live in the 
 same house, and went very little into society. I 
 passed my time in reading and meditation, and in 
 taking solitary walks. I had long been aware 
 (without paying special attention to the fact, or 
 reflecting upon its significance) that I often lapsed 
 into a state which I could only compare to that of 
 dreaming. . It differed from that, however, in sev 
 eral essential respects. The scenes and persons 
 which I beheld in these states were evidently real,
 
 2GO six CENT SAM S. 
 
 though I was not, as to my corporeal self, present 
 in them. How, then, did I see them? 
 
 Had I been asked that question at the time, I 
 should have answered, simply, that I saw them. 
 Ordinary sight is a mystery as to its essence ; and 
 this further sight of mine seemed to me neither 
 more nor less mysterious. I had never heard the 
 word clairvoyance, and it "would have explained 
 nothing, if I had. At all events, not a day passed 
 without my observing things that existed and 
 occurrences that happened far away from where 
 my body was. How far away they were I did not 
 know; nor, indeed, did I at first realize that the 
 things and persons were as real as those that 
 immediately surrounded me. That discovery came 
 later, as I shall presently describe. A peculiarity 
 of my clairvO3 r ance was, that it did not involve, as 
 generally is the case, a suspension of my external 
 consciousness. I saw, as it were, with the bodily 
 and the mental eye at the same time. Nor did this 
 lead, as you might suppose it would, to any con 
 fusion between the two sights. I could always 
 clearly distinguish between the normal and the 
 abnormal vision; though I could not have made 
 anyone understand how I did it. 
 
 So time slipped away, until I was twenty-three
 
 THE SWARTHY MAN S STORY. 261 
 
 years old. It was at that age that I became 
 acquainted with Virginia Graham. She was a 
 handsome girl, tall, with black eves and hair, and 
 a clear white skin. Her father was a Scotchman 
 by birth ; he was a ship owner, and had been a sea 
 captain. They lived about ten miles from my 
 home; but my father had been acquainted with 
 them in former years, and my own subsequent 
 knowledge of them was therefore in the nature of 
 a renewal of friendship. We met at a picnic; an 
 annual merry-making that came off every Michael 
 mas. It was the first that I had attended ; and I 
 believe that the same was true of Virginia. I was 
 accosted by the captain, who spoke of his previous 
 acquaintance with Professor Markham (my 
 father) and introduced me to Virginia. I talked 
 with her all the afternoon. She affected me in a 
 manner entirely novel to me. It was no fancy on my 
 part ; I could not be mistaken in her. The clair 
 voyant power that I possessed enabled me to 
 divine at once her true character, which was pure 
 and noble to a degree that I had never seen sur 
 passed in woman. What may have been her 
 impression of me I knew not, nor did I speculate 
 about it. It was happiness to be with her, and 
 that was enough for me.
 
 262 
 
 SIX CENT SAM S. 
 
 We parted at length, and they drove away; I set 
 out homeward on foot, being an active and tireless 
 walker. As might be expected, my thoughts were 
 busy with Virginia ; and presently I found myself 
 with her again. That is, I saw her driving along 
 the moonlit road with her 
 
 thev 
 
 ap- 
 the sea- 
 
 father, and 
 I were now 
 preaching 
 
 port town 
 
 where they 
 lived. I had 
 
 never been in this town ; but / 
 all its features \vere distinctly 
 present to me. I saw the car 
 riage turn into the main street, 
 and stop at a large house on 
 the corner. It \vas a house with 
 a hip-roof, and abroad veranda 
 with vines twining over it, 
 and an old-fashioned arched 
 doorway. Virginia alighted, 
 and ran up the steps; the 
 door opened, and she en 
 tered, while her father drove 
 round to the stables. Virginia went into the dining
 
 THE SWARTHY MjiN S STORY. 263 
 
 room, which faced toward the east, and remained 
 a few minutes ; then she mounted the stairs to her 
 bed chamber to remove her wraps. At this moment 
 the \vhole scene vanished, and I was on the lonely 
 road, with my shadow moving beside me in the 
 moonlight. 
 
 It was then, for the first time, that the singular 
 ity of the affair struck me. I had actually been 
 with her, when nevertheless she was miles away in 
 an opposite direction. It was no dream, nor even 
 a vision. I halted in my tracks, and gazed about 
 me. Had I been with her, indeed ? Could I be in 
 two places at once ? 
 
 " Certainly I can," I answered myself. "The 
 mind is free, and what is man but mind ? His 
 mind can travel to the ends of the earth, while his 
 body remains at home. It is the mind that gives 
 life and perception to the senses ; therefore life and 
 perception exist, not in the senses, but in the mind 
 itself. Wherever it goes, then, it must take its per 
 ceptions with it. It is only reasonable." 
 
 I walked on again, and my thoughts took 
 another turn. " If I have seen her thus to-night," 
 I said, "what is to hinder my seeing her whenever 
 I choose ? It is true that she will not be aware of 
 my presence ; but I shall be the more free to con-
 
 264 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 template her without interruption. I have only 
 to wish to behold her, and I shall do so." 
 
 Here, however, I found myself in error. I 
 attempted to transport myself to her once more, 
 but in vain. I \vas powerless to repeat the expe 
 rience. The condition w as evidently an in voluntary 
 one, or at any rate subject to laws which I had not 
 yet mastered. But it did not follo\v from that 
 that I might not learn to control it. I resolved to 
 set about doing so without delay. 
 
 I met with only partial success in my efforts. 
 Sometimes, by fixing my thoughts upon Virginia 
 for a long while, persistently, I attained to see her, 
 more or less distinctly, and only so long as I could 
 keep my will at its full tension. At other times, 
 when I least expected it, I was with her; and these 
 occasions were much the more satisfactory of the 
 two. I could not full\ r solve the problem, ponder 
 it how I w r ould. I had in the meanwhile paid sev 
 eral visits to the Grahams, and had convinced 
 myself that my clairvoyance had not deceived me ; 
 everything about the town and house was as I had 
 found it in my vision. These visits also strength 
 ened the affection I had conceived for Virginia; 
 and I had reason to think that she fully returned 
 the feeling. Her face brightened when I came near
 
 THE SWARTHY MAN S STORY. 
 
 265 
 
 her, and our lives seemed to support and illumi 
 nate each other. As long as we were together all 
 was right and harmonious; troubles and annoy 
 ances only came when we were apart. 
 
 One day I went into my father s library. It was 
 a place I rarely visited. It was in almost the same 
 condition as when he was alive, 
 large desk-table at which he used 
 reading or writing, stood between 
 windows. Notebooks and sheets 
 manuscript were upon it, methodic 
 ally arranged, for my father had 
 been a model of order and precision. 
 There were his pens, pencils, and 
 mathematical instruments, ready 
 
 placed for the hand that now was dust; the dia 
 grams, the celestial globes, the volume of astrolog 
 ical calculations all the paraphernalia of the stu 
 dent of hidden things. A thin gray dust lay over
 
 266 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 these things, like the impalpable ashes of a 
 vanished life. The chair in which he used to sit 
 was pushed a little away from the table, as if he 
 had just arisen out of it. It was upholstered in 
 brown leather, much worn, but still sound ; it was 
 broad-seated, roomy, and comfortable. I threw 
 myself down in it, and thought of the man who 
 had transmitted to me the mysterious thread of 
 life; so easily broken, so indestructible. As I sat 
 there, his influence seemed to be upon me, and I 
 understood him as I had never before done. The 
 interests and aims which had controlled his life 
 became, for the time being, a stimulus to my own. 
 
 The walls of the room were lined ceiling-high 
 with broad shelves, in which were stored the rows 
 of ancient volumes, bound in brown leather and 
 white parchment, over the pages of which he had 
 pored so deeply. But a small revolving bookstand 
 stood within reach of the chair, and in this were 
 kept the works in which he was more especially 
 interested, or which he was at the moment con 
 sulting. I stretched forth my hand, and took out 
 the one which came first. 
 
 It proved to be a sort of digest or history of the 
 phenomena of second-sight, followed by an attempt 
 to elucidate the philosophy of the matter. Some
 
 THE SWARTHY MAN S STORY. 267 
 
 
 
 statements that recalled my own experience caught 
 my eye; I read on, and continued to read, hour 
 after hour, until the increasing twilight deepened 
 over the last page. 
 
 From that day, I became as assiduous a student 
 as my father had been before me, and of the same 
 books. I learned many things that enabled me to 
 understand my own condition, and its relation to 
 the normal state. I read, too, a number of volumes 
 treating of the esoteric features of the Buddhistic 
 faith, and their theory of life and vocation. Much 
 of their tenets took a strong hold upon me, partic 
 ularly the doctrines relative to the spiral of human 
 existence, its periodic returns to activity and 
 intervals of repose, and its final reabsorption into 
 the universal life. This knowledge affected me like 
 a reminiscence. I seemed to have known it before. 
 I felt that I had indeed had a previous -existence, 
 somewhere, at some time. Where and when? Was 
 there no closed volume of the memory that con 
 tained the story of that remote epoch, and which 
 (did one but know the secret of that lock) might 
 be opened and perused to-day? Meanwhile it 
 became evident to me that clairvo\ r ance the gen 
 uine form of which is among the rarest of human 
 gifts was susceptible of far greater development
 
 :26S six CENT SAM S. 
 
 than it had yet received, at least among western 
 races ; and I resolved to set about its cultivation 
 in a systematic and, so to say, scientific manner. I 
 carried out this resolution with a perseverence 
 and diligence that left me no opportunity to do or 
 think of any thing else. Even Virginia was neglected 
 for the time being, though my not seeing her was 
 partly due to the fact that she had accompanied 
 her father on a visit to the metropolis, upwards of 
 a hundred miles distant. But everything seemed 
 to me of secondary importance compared \vith 
 the power I aimed at, which was nothingelse than 
 to be able to transport myself, so far as my per 
 ceptions were concerned, to any point in space 
 that I chose, and at any moment that suited me. 
 
 My success in some instances was so great as to 
 nearly satisfy me; but in others, when the con 
 ditions were apparently the same, I entirely failed. 
 For a long time I was at a loss to understand the 
 reason of this discrepancy. The explanation, how 
 ever, was simple enough, when once it occurred to 
 me. In the metaphysical world the sphere oi 
 thought and emotion thought is presence. I am 
 mentally in the society of the person upon whom 
 my thoughts are fixed. But there is an indispen 
 sable requisite here: and that is sympathy. The
 
 THE SWARTHY MAN S STORY. 269 
 
 travels of the clairvoyant depend upon his sym 
 pathy with the human beings whom he would 
 visit. Sympathy, in this connection, is to be under 
 stood in the broader sense of the word ; it may be 
 an affinity of liking, or of repulsion. The man or 
 \voman I hated may attract me as strongly as 
 those I love. I now understood the cause of mv 
 
 J 
 
 failures. I attempted to go to to be mentally 
 present in places where there was, so to speak, 
 no place for me. Such a transmigration w r ould 
 only be possible to the clairvoyant who was con 
 trolled by some other will than his own, and with 
 other affiliations than his. But I was my own sole 
 agent in the matter. My journeys, though not 
 limited as to distance, were circumscribed to some 
 extent in direction. I had attempted, in some of 
 my experiments, to leave the boundaries of this 
 planet, and penetrate the secrets of other earths 
 in the universe ; but I had never been able to effect 
 a landing on those wondrous shores. This had 
 greatly disappointed me, but the reason of it was 
 no longer obscure. Those worlds are, indeed, 
 doubtless inhabited by human beings ; but in the 
 infinite scheme of creation, there is room for infinite 
 variety, but no duplicate. The people of each of 
 the planets present a phase of humanity differing
 
 270 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 in some vital respect from one another, and from 
 us. Therefore the spirit from this earth cannot 
 come into communication with them. Hereafter, 
 perhaps, when the depths and mysteries of our 
 natures are more fully comprehended and revealed, 
 we may find our way to these enigmatical brethren 
 of ours, and study from them new lessons in the 
 inexhaustible volume of being. 
 
 At this time I happened upon a new discovery, 
 which put my disappointments out of my head. 
 It grew out of some of my researches in esoteric 
 Buddhism. The Buddhists hold that there is an 
 inner plane of being, to which they give the name 
 of the "Astral Light." Upon it are projected the 
 living shadows or pictures of all that mankind has 
 experienced since the creation. The eye which is 
 opened to this plane can see the occurrences of the 
 past enacted before his eyes by the phantoms of the 
 beings who took part in them. These beings have 
 a kind of life of their own, which can be stimulated 
 by the sympathy and interest of the mortal specta 
 tor. 
 
 One evening 1 \vent into a deeper trance than 
 usual. I had been traveling, without any special 
 destination in view, from point to point, and at 
 last found myself hovering above the ocean, which
 
 THE SWARTHY MAN S STORY. 
 
 271 
 
 was slumbering in a profound calm. Space, liter 
 ally considered, does not exist in the clairvoyant 
 state; change of place varies with the mental con 
 dition. My mind had been in a vague and unsat 
 isfied mood, and I had allowed it to follow out its 
 vagaries without muchattcn ,<-^Ntion to them. I 
 only retained a general impresY^ I sion that I had 
 
 paths of 
 and had 
 
 strayed far from my usual 
 
 contemplation, 
 
 followed an erratic and 
 
 unfamiliar course. I had 
 
 been thinking less of persons 
 
 places than of nature in the ab 
 
 and so, at last, on looking 
 
 I saw only a silent sea, bound 
 
 and unruffled by any breeze. No 
 
 sign ofhuman life, was in sight. It 
 
 before the dawn; overhead were 
 
 some of the larger stars of the Southern constella 
 
 tions. 
 
 For a considerable time I remained motionless 
 in the midst of the great stillness, with a sensation 
 of gradually retiring, as it were, into the innermost 
 recesses of consciousness. It seemed to me that, if 
 this process continued, I should end by vanishing 
 out of life altogether. I was conscious of a slow 
 
 and 
 stract ; 
 around me, 
 ed by no shore 
 ship, nor any 
 was the dusk 
 still visible
 
 272 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 revolving movement, winding downward in a 
 spiral. It was evidently subjective, and was 
 attended by a highly agreeable feeling. The spiral 
 became smaller and smaller; at last it seemed to 
 diminish to a mathematical point. On passing 
 through that point, I ceased, for a time, to be con 
 scious of any sensation whatever. 
 
 When I came to myself, I was standing on a low 
 promontory, overlooking the sea. Behind me was 
 a forest, composed of strange vegetable growths, 
 with which I was not familiar. They had the 
 height of ordinary forest trees, but were of a dif 
 ferent character ; more in the semblance of huge 
 weeds and rank grasses. The soil on which I stood 
 was thin, and much mingled with mosses ; faces of 
 rock, overgrown with lichens, showed through it 
 here and there. The air was heavy and warm, 
 and the sun, which had newly arisen, appeared red 
 and large, through thick veils of watery vapor. 
 
 On the seaward slope of the promontory, barely 
 a hundred yards from where I stood, appeared a 
 small, pyramidal structure, which looked black 
 against the eastern light. I took it to be a little 
 cairn of stone ; at all events, it must be the work 
 of human hands, and I approached it. As I went 
 near, I perceived that it was not a cairn, but some-
 
 THE SWARTHY MAN S STORY. 
 
 273 
 
 thing in the nature of a rude wigwam. It was 
 made of skins, stretched upon a scaffolding of 
 stakes, leaning together in an apex. Could it be 
 inhabited ? I moved toward the right, and thus 
 my gaze encountered a human figure, seated 
 on the ground before the entrance of the wig- 
 warn. 
 
 The figure was naked to the waist ; the 
 lower part was covered with the soft fur 
 mal. Black hair, of 
 nary thickness 
 and luxuriance, 
 fell on the shoul 
 ders and down 
 the back ; the 
 flesh was 
 of the 
 
 hue of fine bronze, clear and polished. The back 
 was turned toward me ; but after a moment the
 
 274 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 position was altered a little, revealing the swell 
 ing curves of the bosom, and I saw that it was a 
 woman. 
 
 She was engaged in moulding into shape the 
 head of a flint axe. The tools she was using \vere 
 also of stone, and the \vorkmanship was rude. 
 But she labored diligently and deftly and hummed 
 a sort of chant to herself the while, that was like 
 a concentration and rhythmical arrangement of 
 the sounds of nature the soughing of winds, the 
 tinkle of waves, the moan of wild beasts, the 
 warble of birds, the rush of the rain; but pervad 
 ing and dominating all, a strong and sweet human 
 note of emotion and love. No other music ever 
 sounded like it in my ears ; it seemed to reach the 
 love of life, and interpret the secret of it. It was 
 a human heart, at one with nature, uttering 
 nature s word. 
 
 But when I saw her face, I forgot everything 
 else. It was beautiful, but not like the faces of the 
 women of our time. There was a lovely wildness 
 in it, but it was not the savage wildness of the 
 Indian. It was innocent, tender, impassioned, 
 glowing with the fire of abounding life ; in purity 
 an infant, in feeling and development a woman. 
 Such eyes as hers no living being had ever beheld.
 
 THE SWARTHY MAN S STORY. 275 
 
 They were black as night, }-et clear as dawn upon 
 the mountains : their glance sank into the soul, 
 but they opened the way to the soul that lived 
 behind them. Her lips were full, and modeled in 
 curves of natural eloquence, so that their move 
 ment, even without audible speech, conveyed 
 innumerable shades of meaning. In every physi 
 cal feature she had the ideal symmetry of a Grecian 
 goddess; and in her bearing was the wild and 
 gentle freedom of one who had never known fear, 
 falsehood, or reproach. 
 
 Who was she, and where was she ? What land 
 was this she lived in ? And why did I feel this 
 invincible attraction toward her, so strong as to 
 be almost terrible? Surely it could not be love, for 
 I loved Virginia. And yet, it must be love, and not 
 only love, but absolute slavery a feeling that we 
 belonged to each other, body and soul ; that we 
 were inextricably and irrevocably one, and that, 
 whatever other ties we might form, this tie bet ween 
 us was prior and superior. The conviction of this 
 did not dawn upon me slowly ; it came at once. It 
 was an absolute and immediate identification of 
 myself with her ; we had the same soul. What 
 did it mean ? It did not give me happiness, but it 
 bore down all opposition. I could no more strug-
 
 270 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 gle against it than I could separate myself from 
 myself. 
 
 The remains of several animals killed in the chase 
 were lying near at hand. But thev were all unfa 
 miliar to me ; they were not species that inhabit 
 the earth now-a-days. The vast head of yonder 
 bear; the gigantic antlers of the elk; the enor 
 mous curve of those tusks, with woolly hide 
 attached to them ; those other remains, half 
 marine, half terrestrial, and monstrous and gro 
 tesque. I had seen relics of such creatures in the fossil 
 specimens of museums, but never in life. And 
 what was the interpretation of these stone imple 
 ments, this strange forest, this dense atmosphere^ 
 this desolate coast ? 
 
 The truth came upon me with a shock. I had 
 roamed backward into the early twilight of the 
 human race. This woman had lived and died ten 
 thousand perhaps a hundred thousand years ago. 
 She was a phantom of the Astral Light. And she 
 had thrown over me a spell of absolute possession. 
 
 Needless to say, I was invisible to her. Across 
 that gulf of ages, of what avail to reach? Besides 
 this that I beheld was but a shadow; she who had 
 cast the shadow had passed on, and was now, 
 perhaps, inhabiting another body, under condi-
 
 THE SWARTHY MAN S STORY. 277 
 
 tions utterly different. In the endless succession of 
 incarnations, her soul had hidden itself, I knew not 
 where. Only, wherever it was, that soul must 
 belong to me, and I to her. 
 
 But how could I hope to trace her through the 
 ages ? She lived, she died, she entered into that 
 abode of dreaming souls that the Buddhists name 
 "Devachan;" and thence, after thousands of 
 years of repose, she issued forth once more, to 
 assume another body, and dwell in another envi 
 ronment. Could I find her there ? 
 
 Surely no conception so wild ever visited a 
 human brain ! To return along the path of buried 
 centuries, seeking not only a point in time, but an 
 individual among all the countless myriads who had 
 lived and loved since the beginning of human exist 
 ence on this planet ! Moreover, her second incar 
 nation might already have occurred, and the grave 
 once more have closed over her; or, again, she 
 might still be slumbering in Devachan and her 
 reappearance among men might not be for ages 
 yet to come. 
 
 I recognized the power of these considerations ; 
 and yet, in spite of them, I dared to believe that 
 such a search might be successful ; but the ground 
 upon which I based this hope was simply the
 
 278 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 power of the overwhelming attraction I felt for 
 her, and which, I thought, could not but be 
 returned. I seemed to have known her from the 
 beginning of time, and now, in the vast intervening 
 period, to have relinquished my grasp of the inte 
 rior chord that bound us to each other. I must 
 have been near her when she first lived; and by the 
 law of psychical sympathy, I must also have 
 remained near her ever since; and Avherever she 
 was now, there must I be also, and in relations 
 with her the most intimate. She was not to be 
 sought for, then, in distant lands, or in the past or 
 the future ; but now and here within reach, as it 
 were, of my outstretched arm. And yet where was 
 she? 
 
 She was not Virginia, of that I was convinced. 
 The influence was an entirely different one. And, 
 powerful as it was, it did not, strange to say, 
 diminish or interfere with my love for Virginia. 
 Rather, my love for Virginia seemed to make this 
 woman only the more undeniably mine. The two 
 loves did not antagonize, but cemented each other ; 
 and I fancied that Virginia s love for me was as 
 great as or greater than my own, although of 
 another kind. I could not explain this impression, 
 or reconcile it with anv known laws of human
 
 THE SWARTHY MAN S STORY. 
 
 279 
 
 association ; but neither could I doubt its truth. 
 She and I and Virginia were parts of one whole, 
 and could never enjoy full happiness save in a 
 common union. Who was she, then? 
 
 I looked again. On 
 with a man seated in 
 ing himself to 
 by means of 
 \vake ap 
 and neck 
 sin 
 and 
 
 the sea, I saw a boat, 
 it; he was propell- 
 ward the shore 
 a paddle. In his 
 peared the head 
 of a 
 
 terrible animal. It was formed, in its upper parts, 
 somewhat like a huge serpent ; but, from the way 
 the water broke against its shoulders, and from 
 the plashing of his webbed claws, I perceived that 
 it partook of another nature. It was hideous and 
 formidable beyond description, and of enormous 
 size. It was gaining rapidly upon the man in the 
 canoe; but he was now so near the shore, that 
 there seemed a possibility he would escape. I
 
 280 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 \vould have given my right hand to help him ; but 
 what could I do ? 
 
 But the woman had seen, also, and she was not 
 idle. She leaped to her feet with the lightness of a 
 bird, at the same time snatching from the ground 
 a bow and arrow. Then she sprang forward 
 toward the shore, fitting the arrow to the string. 
 She reached the margin of the sea just as the beast 
 overtook the man. 
 
 With one of its claws it struck the stern of the 
 canoe, smashing it to fragments. The man was 
 thrown into the water. He had in his hand a 
 spear ; the head, of chiseled flint, fast bound to a 
 shaft of tough and elastic wood. He turned in the 
 water, and made a desperate thrust upward at his 
 enemy. The point entered the beast s body 
 beneath the left shoulder, and there broke off. At 
 the same moment the creature made a lunge at him, 
 shattering his arm, and tearing open his right 
 side. He floated helplessly in the water, and 
 I expected to see him torn in pieces in another 
 instant. 
 
 But the woman, \vith her black hair flying about 
 her, had halted knee-deep in the water, and drawn 
 her arrow to the head. It flashed through the air, 
 and penetrated the monster s eye. With a roar of
 
 THE SWARTHY MAN S STORY. 281 
 
 agony, blind and infuriated, he lashed the sea with 
 his tail and arms, and stretched his fearful head 
 hither and thither, seeking his victim. But the 
 woman had swam out to the man, and thrown 
 her arms tenderly about him, and drawn him to 
 the shore in safety. Then she lifted him, holding 
 him to her bosom, and hastened up the declivity ; 
 and, panting deeply, laid him down on a couch of 
 skins within the wigwam. 
 
 He was dying, and the end was near. When she 
 had done all that could be done to relieve him, she 
 sat beside him in silence, with one of his hands in 
 hers. Their eyes met in a long gaze. I perceived, 
 by my natural insight into their minds, that they 
 were husband and wife, and that they were still in 
 the early days of their union. But the long part 
 ing was at hand, and both knew it. 
 
 It was singular that I felt no jealousy of the love 
 which the woman bore the man, though I knew it 
 to be the utmost love of her heart, and to be the 
 love that lasts beyond the grave. So far from 
 that, I identified myself with that love, and felt 
 in no way defrauded by it. I, too, loved him, 
 though wherefore I knew not. 
 
 Presently she spoke to him. I understood what 
 she said, though the words were such as no man,
 
 282 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 who has lived since history was written, has 
 heard. But my perception passed beneath the 
 sound, and comprehended the meaning. 
 
 "Do you leave me alone forever? "she asked. 
 "Tell me, if you may; for has it not been said 
 that, in the hour of death, the departing soul sees 
 what is to come revealed before his eyes ; and, for 
 that one hour, is given to know the future course 
 of his destiny? Tell me, therefore, beloved! and 
 spare not the truth, out of pity for my loneliness!" 
 
 The dying man gathered together the strength 
 that remained to him. He was a magnificent 
 creature, made in the finest mould of manhood ; 
 and his features had the same impressive innocence 
 of expression, mingled with nobility and passion, 
 that I had noticed in the woman. And, as I con 
 templated him, methought that he, too, was not 
 unfamiliar to me. Was it because his face, with 
 hers, embraced the human types which had been 
 multiplied since their day, and therefore bore, to 
 each one who looked upon them, the likeness of a 
 dearest friend ? or was it a more real and individ 
 ual resemblance? I could not tell; but, that I 
 knew him and loved him I doubted not. 
 
 "Beloved," he answered at last, in a voice that 
 was as faint as a whisper, which she bent to hear,
 
 THE SWARTHY MAN S STORY. 283 
 
 and which I heard, as it were, through her ears, 
 "Beloved, our parting shall not be forever. God 
 hath joined us, and our union shall never be 
 broken. After the long rest, we shall live again, 
 and live together. But it shall not be as we are 
 now." 
 
 "Shall I not always be your \vife, and you my 
 husband?" 
 
 "Our bodies," he replied, "are made either male 
 or female, and, as they are made, so do they live, 
 and so perish. But the life of the soul is not so 
 limited. It has in it the male, and also the female ; 
 and, in the course of its journey, it takes on the 
 bodily garment, first of the one and then of the 
 other. So it shall come to pass, when you and I 
 next meet in the flesh, you shall be the man, and I 
 the woman ; and we shall have traversed the cir 
 cle of human existence, and know no other separa 
 tion forever." 
 
 "But shall we know each other when we meet 
 thus attired?" she demanded. 
 
 " Truly we shall," was his reply, " and, moreover 1 , 
 a sign shall be given you. For when that far dis 
 tant time comes, that we go forth upon the earth 
 once more, power shall be bestowed upon you 
 (being then in the guise of a man) to look back
 
 284 
 
 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 into the past, and to behold what happened there 
 as if it were still in being. And at that time you 
 shall behold yourself and me as we now are ; and 
 in the woman you shall know yourself as you first 
 were; and in me, the woman whom you then love. 
 So shall you be assured that the wife that you 
 shall have chosen is no mere companion of an 
 earthly lifetime, but was the help-mate appointed 
 unto you from the beginning, and who shall abide 
 with you, world everlasting." 
 
 As his voice died away, the scene grew dim before 
 my eyes, and faded out of sight. All was darkness 
 and silence around me, and I knew no more. 
 
 When I came to myself, I saw Virginia s face 
 bending over , ( | me. I had been ill for many 
 
 mind clouded with the 
 delirium. At first, 
 I recollected 
 nothing clearly 
 of my strange 
 experience ; but, 
 by little and lit 
 tle, it came back 
 to me. 
 
 Was it a reality, or but a moribund phantom of 
 the imagination, in which were presented, as in a
 
 THE SYMPOSIUM. 285 
 
 parable, the problems of self love, and of the love 
 for another than self? I know not, nor does it 
 greatly matter. If the woman of that primeval 
 epoch \vere indeed myself, and if the man were 
 indeed Virginia, or if both were but symbols of 
 abstract truth, certain it is, at all events, that 
 never was there a truer marriage than that 
 between Virginia and me. I like to think that we 
 have been together since the morning of time ; but 
 it needs not that to assure me that our union is 
 for everlasting. Together we form the complete 
 human creature, as the Creator destined it to be. 
 The abnormal powers which I had possessed, 
 and which, upon the whole, had been more of a 
 bane than a blessing, did not survive my illness. 
 When I recovered my health, I discovered that 
 clairvoyance, and all its attendant marvels, were, 
 for me, things of the past. I have never regretted 
 the loss of them. When I look in my wife s face, I 
 see there a deeper mystery, and a more precious 
 possession than clairvoyance can ever reveal or 
 bestow the mystery and the possession of perfect 
 
 love. 
 
 * * * 
 
 "I m inclined to the belief," said a red-headed 
 gentleman opposite, in a voice \vhich made me sus-
 
 286 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 pect that he might be a representative of the Green 
 Isle across the ocean, "that all phenomena of this 
 character may be referred to the principle of hypno 
 sis. The moment we have reduced certain portions 
 of the brain to a quiescent state, there s nothing 
 that mayn t happen. Past, present and future 
 get mixed up till you can t tell one from the other. 
 A man loses \vhat we call his individuality, and 
 becomes somebody else; the limitations of space 
 are modified or obliterated; and the physical senses 
 are replaced by a sort of universal perception 
 which seems to act independently of the ordinary 
 vibrations." 
 
 "It strikes me, sir," I ventured to remark, "that 
 your explanation is not so much an explanation 
 as a restatement of the same old mystery. In order 
 really to account for these hypnotic phenomena, 
 we must be able to say what the brain really is, 
 and that involves giving a definition of matter, 
 and indeed of the philosophy of creation itself." 
 
 "Well, man is a creature of language," replied 
 the red-headed gentleman, good-naturedly, "and 
 we re bound to give things names as fast as they 
 turn up, the same as Father Adam named the 
 beasts of the field and the birds of the air in the 
 Garden of Eden, before you and I were born. I m
 
 THE SYMPOSIUM. 287 
 
 a graduate of Dublin University, sir, and went 
 through the usual courses; but I m free to admit 
 that the definition of matter and the philosophy 
 of creation had not been subjected to scientific 
 analysis at the time of my sojourn there. We 
 advance ,. by degrees, sir; we don t get to the 
 end of the journey till we ve been over all of the 
 intermediate points. Hypnosis is a good enough 
 word to conjure with while we re waiting for some 
 genius to give us another ; and if you and the com 
 pany are agreeable, I d like to tell you a bit of a 
 tale of something that took place not long since in 
 my own country, and concerning which, I may say 
 beforehand that I was personally acquainted with 
 two of the persons in it; and nice people they are, 
 too, and are now living in health and prosperity, 
 God bless em, not far from where we are sitting." 
 There was a general murmur of agreeable antici 
 pation, and the red-headed gentleman, having 
 rubbed his hands upward through his hair, by way 
 of creating the electricity of inspiration, put his 
 thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, directed 
 his eyes toward the cornice, and related this 
 strange story :
 
 288 
 
 SIX CENT SAM S. 
 
 THE IRISHMAN S STORY. 
 
 EW people are aware of 
 the existence of a small 
 hostelry near Slyne 
 Head, on the \yest coast 
 of Ireland. The coal- 
 black rocks and precip 
 itous promontories ot 
 that desolate region render the scenery imposing ; 
 and the storms, which are frequent, form a specta 
 cle that is nothing less than magnificent. The 
 \vhole force of the Atlantic breaks against those 
 awful cliffs, and the half-wild inhabitants of the 
 region will tell you that, in winter, the spray is 
 sometimes dashed three hundred feet in the air. 
 Fishing is almost the sole occupation of the 
 natives. The nearest railway station is at West- 
 port, thirty miles away, whence the explorer must 
 travel either on foot or upon the dilapidated 
 "jaunting-car" that serves as a stage, and is 
 driven by Pat Maguire, who is also the proprietor 
 of the inn. But explorers are as few as sno\vflakes 
 in June ; and for several years previous to the date 
 of this story, Dr. Griffith Gramery had been the 
 only visitor.
 
 THE IRISHMAN S STOKY. 289 
 
 The doctor was not a comely man. He had a 
 big, square head, covered with grizzled red hair, 
 which stood upright ; thick eyebrow s hanging far- 
 down over a pair of small but extraordinarily 
 piercing eyes; a large nose and mouth, and a 
 broad, short chin. His head was set low down 
 upon broad shoulders; his arms were long, but 
 his body rather small and short. The peasants 
 held him in superstitious awe and respect, believing 
 him to be in league \vith Satan, probably because 
 he had once or twice exercised upon them a 
 remarkable magnetizing power that he possessed. 
 But as all his dealings \vith them had been benefi 
 cent, they mingled their awe with affection. A man 
 may be hand-in-glove \vith the Evil One, and yet a 
 very good fellow at tottom. 
 
 This season, Dr. Gramery arrived, as usual, 
 about the first of October ; but he explained to Pat 
 Maguire that a young lady and gentleman, 
 friends of his, would come on the seventh of the 
 month, and would expect Pat to be at Westport 
 railway station to drive them over. The doctor, 
 it seems, had met Mr. and Mrs. Roger Mowbray 
 in London during the previous season, and had 
 sung the praises of Slyne Head so eloquently that 
 the young couple they were in their honeymoon
 
 290 
 
 SIX CENT SAM S. 
 
 had promised to come over and spend a week 
 . i there. They proved as 
 good as their word, 
 and on the evening 
 of the appointed 
 day they drove 
 up on the jaunt- 
 ing-car, and 
 were cordially 
 welcomed at 
 the inn 
 door 
 
 - tne 
 
 doctor. 
 
 The moon was 
 close to the full, 
 and the air soft and mild. After supper the three 
 friends strolled out on the cliffs ; and Roger 
 Mowbray and his wife both confessed that they 
 had never seen so grand a sight. The rocks are 
 full of caves, some midway in the face of inac 
 cessible precipices, some so low down as to be 
 covered at high-water. The coast is everywhere 
 jagged and irregular. Slyne Head itself is a bee 
 tling pinnacle of rock, overhanging its base, which 
 is four hundred feet below its summit. The party
 
 THE IRISHMAN S STORY. 291 
 
 made their way thither and sat down to con 
 template the prospect. The ocean, rising in its 
 vast sweejD to the horizon, was luminous beneath 
 the moon; and where the surf broke on the 
 ragged teeth of the rocks far below it looked like 
 great drifts of snow against the blackness. 
 
 "How glorious and terrible it is!" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Mowbray. "After this, I can understand 
 and almost believe in all the legends of ghosts and 
 hobgoblins that Ireland is famous for!" 
 
 "None but spirits of light and loveliness should 
 become visible to you, fair lady," said the doctor, 
 who had a courtly, chivalrous way with women, 
 which, partly on account of the odd contrast with 
 his ugliness and eccentricity, made him a favorite 
 \vith the sex. "But the people hereabouts are cer 
 tainly very superstitious ; and, to confess the 
 truth, I have occasionally amused myself by play 
 ing off a few juggleries upon them. They take me 
 for a magician ; and it keeps them from bothering 
 me when I want to be undisturbed. I have only 
 to make a few cabalistic passes, and they run as if 
 the devil were alter them." 
 
 "I recollect your alluding, in London, to your 
 powers in that direction," observed Roger. "You 
 promised to give us an illustration some time.
 
 292 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 What more fitting time could there be than this? * 
 
 " Oh, I wish you would, Dr. Gramery !" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Mowbray. "I never saw anything of that 
 sort." 
 
 "And I fancy your husband doubts whether any 
 body ever saw anything of the sort," returned the 
 doctor, laughing, and fixing his brilliant eyes on 
 the young man s face. " He is a skeptic." 
 
 "Say an agnostic," rejoined Roger, with a smile. 
 "I will believe \vhat I see." 
 
 "If that be your only stipulation, I could easily 
 astonish you," the doctor answered. "The eye 
 sight and all the senses are readily deceived. 
 Moreover, unless I am much mistaken, yours is a 
 temperament that lends itself to such impressions. 
 I should expect to be more successful in deceiving 
 you than your \vife; though she looks half a 
 spirit already, w r hile you have the thews and 
 sinews of an athlete." 
 
 "Well, all I can say is, I am prepared for the 
 test," replied Roger, still smiling, though \vith 
 somewhat of an effort. The doctor s eyes had a 
 singular sparkle. It was difficult to look away 
 from them. 
 
 For a full minute, the doctor remained silent and 
 immovable, gazing in a preoccupied manner at
 
 THE IRISHMAN S STORY. 
 
 293 
 
 Roger Mowbray, who gazed back at him. Mrs. 
 Mowbray, meanwhile, had become interested in 
 watching the flight of a great sea- 
 bird, which, after poising itself in the 
 air on a level with their posi 
 tion, suddenly swooped 
 ward, and alighted on 
 rock, surrounded by waves, 
 near the foot of the cliff. 
 " Look at me!" abruptly^ 
 cried the doctor, 
 in a sharp, im-.,| 
 periotis tone, 
 springing t 
 his feet. "I am 
 going to jump" 
 down the preci- -JilL 
 pice, and stand *8J| 
 
 beside that s 
 f o w 1 . Look! 
 Roger Mowbray, 
 I m off." 
 
 Roger started up with a 
 gasp of horror and amaze 
 ment. "Good God! the man is killed!" he cried 
 out in a wild tone. He stood gazing fearfully and
 
 294 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 breathlessly over the cliff, peering downward as if 
 following the descent of a heavy body through the 
 air. But after a moment he raised himself, trem 
 bling and aghast, the sweat standing on his fore 
 head. "It s a miracle!" he said, huskily; "such 
 a thing was never known ! He fell four hundred 
 feet, and now there he stands at the bottom, 
 nodding and waving his hand ! Merciful Heaven ! 
 what a thing to see ! " 
 
 "Why, Roger!" exclaimed his wife, half laughing 
 and half alarmed, "how absurdly you act! Any 
 one \vould think you were crazy ! What are you 
 saying about the doctor being down the cliif, 
 when he has not moved a foot away from you ? 
 Why, what s the matter with you?" 
 
 Her husband paid not the slightest attention to 
 her. He continued to stare down at the rock on 
 which the sea-bird was seated, emitting ever and 
 anon inarticulate ejaculations. 
 
 "He does not hear you, Mrs. Mowbray," 
 remarked the doctor, speaking aside to her. "He 
 is in what may be termed an abnormally imagina 
 tive state, in which one mistakes fancies for facts. 
 He really believes that I jumped off the cliff and 
 alighted on that rock; and nothing that you could
 
 THE IRISHMAN S STORY. 295 
 
 say to him would change his conviction. Curious, 
 is it not?" 
 
 "But what is the cause of it ? He was never like 
 this before !" cried she, becoming more and more 
 alarmed. "Can nothing be done? Roger!" She 
 laid her hand on her husband s arm, but he moved 
 away from her. "He doesn t know me!" she 
 exclaimed in terror. " Oh, what shall I do ?" 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Mowbray," interposed the doc 
 tor, smiling comfortably in the moonlight, "give 
 yourself no uneasiness ; it is the simplest thing in 
 the world. Your husband is partially asleep, that 
 is all. A certain portion of his brain that which 
 discriminates between truth and imagination has 
 temporarily ceased to operate; it has been inhib 
 ited, to use the scientific term ; or, if you want 
 another phrase, your husband is in a hypnotic 
 trance. Of course you have heard of hypnotism, 
 and you are aware how commonly it is now prac 
 ticed, and how amusing some ofits manifestations 
 are. It also has the advantage of being entirely 
 harmless. The trance can be broken as easily as it 
 can be induced." 
 
 "Oh, but I do n t like Roger to be hypnotized ! " she 
 protested, still agitated. "I want him to know
 
 296 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 me and hear me ! Please make him come back to 
 me, Dr. Gramery." 
 
 "Your word is law, my dear lady, "said the good 
 doctor, with perfect amiability. 
 He turned to the young man, 
 and drawing him a little to 
 one side appeared to whispt 
 something in his ear. 
 Then he clapped his hands 
 sharply together, and 
 out, "Hello, Mowbray! Here we are!" 
 
 Mowbray glanced up, yawned, passed his hand 
 over his forehead, and then, looking at the doctor 
 with evident perplexity, said : " Aren t you wet ? 
 How did yon get up here again? " 
 
 "You see," said the doctor, the next morning 
 after they had talked and laughed a good deal 
 over the event of the night before, "hypnotism is 
 the real explanation of all the marvels of magic 
 and enchantment that we read and hear about. 
 The magician s first act is to hypnotize the specta 
 tor or spectators ; that done, they will see imagine 
 they sec any miracle he may choose to suggest to 
 them." 
 
 "Do you mean to say," demanded Roger, "that
 
 THE IRISHMAN S STORY. 297 
 
 he can put more than one person at a time into the 
 trance?" 
 
 "A hundred as easily as one; and perhaps a 
 thousand more easily than a hundred. Why not r 
 Consider the phenomena of panic the unreason 
 ing fear that seizes upon a multitude, though each 
 separate man of the crowd, if alone, would have 
 retained his presence of mind ; or look at the wild 
 enthusiasm or rage to which an eloquent orator 
 can arouse a vast atidience, though any one 
 member of it would listen to him coldly. So I 
 doubt not it \vould be easier to hypnotize a large 
 assemblage than a single individual ; and the 
 Eastern jugglers seem to do it. You have heard 01 
 the famous Indian Basket Trick, as it is called? 
 There an audience of any number of persons sever 
 ally and collectively witness a transaction that 
 their reason assures them is preposterously impos 
 sible, at the same time that their eyesight convinces 
 them it takes place. What is the explanation? 
 Simply, that they are all hypnotized before the 
 trick is performed; and then, of course, the trick 
 is reduced to merely inducing them to believe that 
 something is done which is really not done at all." 
 
 11 After my experience of last night, I don t feel 
 like disputing anything you say, doctor," observed
 
 298 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 Roger Mowbray . " But I should like to know how 
 a man can hypnotize a crowd of people, and also 
 how they can recover from the trance without 
 recognizing that they have been in it." 
 
 "If the conditions be favorable, nothing is more 
 easily performed than hypnotism," the doctor 
 replied. "Sim ply to fix the attention for a few 
 moments is often sufficient ; and any juggler can 
 do that. I hypnotized you last night only by 
 inducing you to look intently at me for sixty 
 seconds. Then as to your second point, the trance 
 may be of various degrees, from light to profound. 
 The light trance is sufficient for complete self-decep 
 tion, and the transition from that to waking is so 
 easy as not to be perceived." 
 
 "I certainly believed I saw you jump over the 
 cliff," said Roger, "and after I came to, I still 
 could hardly persuade myself that you had not 
 done it. Rachel, here, says she spoke to me, but I 
 did n t hear her. But is it not rather alarming 
 that such a power as you possess should exist? " 
 
 "Indeed, if I didn t know the doctor was a good 
 man, I should n t feel safe for a moment," Rachel 
 said. 
 
 "Luckily, I am harmless," remarked he, with a 
 peculiar smile. "But there s truth in your sugges-
 
 THE IRISHMAN S STORY. 299 
 
 tion, Mr. Mowbray. Hypnotism migln give 
 terrible powers. If I had told you, last night, to 
 jump over the cliff, you would have done it, or if, 
 \vhile you were still in the trance, I had com 
 manded you to do, or to see, or not to see, a certain 
 thing at a certain future time, say, at five o clock 
 this afternoon, you would have obeyed punc 
 tually at the appointed hour, without any further 
 action on my part." 
 
 "Dear me!" said Rachel, with a nervous laugh, 
 "I remember you whispered something to Roger 
 last night, before you woke him up. What did you 
 tell him to do?" 
 
 "You said a person could be ordered not to see 
 anything," broke in Roger. "Do you mean that a 
 concrete object could be rendered actually invisible 
 to one in the hypnotic trance ? " 
 
 "Certainly!" replied the doctor. "Anything 
 that is told to the patient, he is bound to believe. 
 If I were to tell you that the big tree yonder had 
 been dug up and carried away, it would immedi 
 ately become invisible to you; and neither your sense 
 of touch nor any other means could persuade you 
 that there was anything there. But I see this con 
 versation is distressing Mrs. Mowbray; let us
 
 300 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 change it. Do you know, Mr. Mowbray, that you 
 bear a strong resemblance to your late father? " 
 
 "I have been sometimes told so. But I was not 
 aware that you knew him." 
 
 "Yes, I knew him well, many years ago, when 
 we were both about your age. Afterward, circum 
 stances separated us. When I met you the other 
 day in London the likeness startled me ; it was as 
 if a buried generation had come to life again. Your 
 father s wife was a Miss Clayton, I think? " 
 
 "Yes, that was my mother s name." 
 
 "Ah! I was not thinking of her as your mother. 
 I do not trace her features in you. However, that 
 is neither here nor there. Thinking over those old 
 days has recalled another person to my mind one 
 John Felbrigge. I fancy you have never heard of 
 him." 
 
 "I think I remember the name," said Roger, 
 "but I never saw him. Unless I m mistaken, my 
 father and he were not good friends." 
 
 "They were friends until, for some reason, they 
 had a bitter quarrel, and parted. It was the gen 
 eral opinion that Felbrigge was in fault. He was 
 certainly a cross-grained fellow, whereas your 
 father was always very suave and engaging. The 
 quarrel occurred before your father s marriage,
 
 THE IRISHMAN S STORY. 301 
 
 and the occasion of it, I think, was some affair of 
 the heart. Naturally, Felbrigge would get worsted 
 there!" 
 
 "What became of this Mr. Felbrigge? " inquired 
 Rachel. 
 
 "He was a student, and after the quarrel he 
 devoted himself to abstruse researches, and lived 
 on the Continent, and afterward in India. He 
 ought to have died long since, I suppose." 
 
 "The woman in the case was not my mother, 
 was it? " asked Roger. 
 
 "She was not the lady your father married, I 
 think, the doctor replied . "It was probably some 
 earlier affair; he was a dangerous man, "he added, 
 laughing. "Now that I recollect, the other 
 woman s name was Mercy yes, Mercy Holland. 
 You never knew of her? " 
 Mowbray shook his head. 
 
 "No, of course not! "said the doctor. "And 
 what interest have these old stories for you young 
 people? Come. I have something to propose! 
 What do vou say to our taking our luncheon with 
 us, and spending the day down on the rocks? 
 There are some curious caves I want you to see ; 
 and there is a romantic legend about one of them. 
 Shall we go?"
 
 302 
 
 SIX CENT SAM S. 
 
 The others willingly consented, and they made 
 their preparations and set out. Instead of climb 
 ing to the top of Slyne Head, as on the previous 
 evening, they descended to the 
 shore, above which the stupen 
 dous crags hung as if about to 
 
 topple over. In a crevice of the 
 
 just above high 
 water mark, the 
 doctor picked 
 fragment of 
 with a hand 
 cuff at> >fcK tached to it. 
 It was but 
 rusted, and 
 could have been 
 but a short time 
 before. Mowbray 
 and his wife were much 
 interested in the discovery/ " 
 and speculated as to how i 
 could have got there. 
 
 "Is there a jail any where in this neighborhood? " 
 Roger inquired. 
 
 "None nearer than Galway, that I know of," 
 replied the doctor. " But I believe there have been
 
 THE IRISHMAN S STOKY. 303 
 
 some evictions going on in this neighborhood, and 
 this handcuff may have been put on a prisoner 
 who escaped. He must have had assistance in 
 freeing himself from his fetters, however. This 
 handcuff, as you see, shuts by a spring, and can be 
 opened only by taking two hands to it. The 
 person to whom it was attached could not unfasten 
 it unaided. It is certainly odd that the fugitive 
 should have shaped his course in this direction. In 
 these thinly settled regions concealment is more 
 difficult than in cities." 
 
 "What a strange feeling it must be to be 
 fastened to a chain, and know that you can t get 
 away," observed Rachel, examining the steel 
 manacle with curiosity. 
 
 "People get used to even that," rejoined the 
 doctor; "and after all, we are all fettered in 
 some way, though the links may be invisible." He 
 put the relic in his pocket, and they continued their 
 journey along the beach. The way was rough 
 and tortuous, the bowlders lying irregularly, and 
 the pebbles of which the beach was composed offer 
 ing a slippery and wearisome foothold. They were 
 nearly an hour in going no more than a mile; but 
 they were rewarded, at the end of their journey, by 
 coming to a large cave, hollowed out in the sea-
 
 304 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 ward extremity of a promontory that formed one 
 of the natural divisions of the beach. Its mouth 
 was only about .seven or eight feet in diameter; 
 but inside it expanded into a chamber of fair size 
 and height, draped with seaweed, and pervaded 
 by the clean, salt smell of the sea. The day had 
 been somewhat close and oppressive, and the cool" 
 ness of the cave was grateful, after their arduous 
 \valk. The interior was lighted up by the rays of 
 the declining sun, for it was already afternoon. 
 
 Using a large flat stone as a table, they unpacked 
 their basket, and lunched at their leisure. The 
 doctor was in capital spirits, and made himself 
 highly agreeable. He related many stories of his 
 own past life and adventures ; he had traveled in 
 all parts of the world, and had lived several years 
 in Northern India, where he had seen strange 
 sights. Finally, the conversation got round to the 
 spot where they then were, and the traditions con 
 nected with it. 
 
 "And, by the by, one of the best yarns is about 
 this very cave," he remarked. "Many years ago 
 a powerful noble lived near Slyne Head, and he 
 married a young and beautiful woman. For a 
 time, all appeared to go well ; but finally the hus 
 band became suspicious of the attentions to his
 
 THE IRISHMAN S STORY. 305 
 
 wife of a neighbor of his who was visiting him. 
 He watched, and his suspicions were confirmed. 
 He concealed his emotions, whatever they were, 
 and on some pretext invited his wife and the friend 
 to this cave. He had had an iron ring fastened to 
 the rock at the back part of the cave, with a chain 
 attached to it. Pretending to be in sport, he 
 induced them to let him fasten this chain around 
 them, and then, telling them to be happy together 
 to their hearts content, and replying to their 
 shrieks and entreaties only by peals of laughter, he 
 bade them farewell and left them. The tide was 
 rising, and a storm was coming on. A couple of 
 hours later the cave was submerged, and the lovers 
 w r ere, of course, drowned. What do you think of 
 that legend, Mrs. Mowbray ? Would you like to 
 know what the young people said to each other, 
 when they were left alone, and the first \vave 
 threw its spray over them?" 
 
 "It is fearful to think of," said Rachel, with a 
 shudder. "Was it really this very cave?" 
 
 "Undoubtedly; and if you want any further 
 proof, the ring to which they were chained still 
 hangs to the rock behind you. See the sunlight 
 has just reached it!"
 
 306 
 
 SIX CENT SAM S. 
 
 Rachel turned with a start, and then all three 
 approached the ring and examined it. It was 
 hanging to a bolt driven into the face of the solid 
 rock, at the furthest extremity of the cave. It was 
 
 about seven inches in diameter, and appeared to 
 beat least an inch in thickness, though it was so 
 bearded with green seaweed and roughened with 
 rust and limpets that an exact estimate was diffi 
 cult. At all events, it looked strong enough to
 
 THE IRISHMAN S STORY. 307 
 
 hold an ox, much more a pair of terrified lovers. 
 Beneath the ring was a shallow ledge, forming a 
 rude seat, and Rachel, who was fascinated by the 
 picturesque horror of the thing, sat down upon it. 
 The setting sun shone on her charming face, and 
 gave it the semblance of a rosy blush. Her husband 
 thought she had never looked more lovely. 
 
 The doctor took the handcuff from his pocket, 
 and passed the chain through the ring, fastening it 
 by springing one of the links over another. " That 
 will enable us to realize the situation better," he 
 remarked, turning to Roger with a smile, and put 
 ting the handcuff in his hand. "Imagine Mrs. 
 Mowbray to be the lady in question, and you the 
 wicked earl." 
 
 "Shall I manacle you, Rachel?" asked her hus 
 band, playfully. 
 
 She held out her wrist at once. " Do !" she said ; 
 "I am not afraid." 
 
 "Don t be too sure of your nerves," put in the 
 doctor; "it might give you a turn." 
 
 "Oh, my husband will not desert me," she 
 replied. "Put it on, Roger." 
 
 He slipped it on and fastened it. "There now 
 you are a prisoner," said he.
 
 308 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 "And now all you have to do is to imagine that 
 you are to stay there until this time to-morrow," 
 the doctor added, "when some fisherman, perhaps r 
 will discover your drowned and bruised body. You 
 are looking for the last time on yonder setting sun. 
 Do you hear the plunging of the surf? In another 
 hour it \vill be at the mouth of the cave ; an hour 
 more and it will have filled it to the roof. You 
 will be alone, and death will come slowly and 
 frightfully. You will struggle and strain, and tug 
 at your fetters ; the steel will cut into your flesh, 
 but you cannot break it. The cold water will 
 creep slowly to your knees, your waist, your 
 throat. You will scream ah ! what screams I 
 but the rocks will echo them back, and they will 
 die aw ay upon the sea. You will think of the sweet 
 ness of life, of your warm and familiar home, of the 
 love of your friends, and of your husband and 
 then the wave will lap over your face and gurgle 
 into your mouth, and strangle your breath; you 
 will be nothing but a lump of lifeless flesh, and this 
 pleasant, luxurious world will know you no 
 more!" 
 
 Doctor Gramery must have had a good deal of 
 the actor s talent ; he had begun his speech lightly- 
 enough, but as he went on his voice became hoarse
 
 THE IRISHMAN S STORY. 309 
 
 and incisive ; he made strange gestures, and there 
 was something terrible and ominous in his aspect. 
 Rachel sat gazing at him with parted lips and 
 widening eyes. As he finished she rose to her feet, 
 and stretching out her hand to her husband, fal 
 tered : Let me go ! 
 
 By a sudden, forcible movement the doctor inter 
 posed himself between them. 
 
 "Five o clock!" he exclaimed, in a stern, com 
 manding tone. 
 
 Roger stood motionless for a few moments, while 
 a dazed expression came over his face. The doctor 
 now moved to one side; the husband and wife 
 were within a couple of paces of each other, and 
 his eyes rested upon her. But there was a queer, 
 vague look in them, and presently he said, in a 
 sluggish tone, "Where is Rachel?" 
 
 "Here I am here! "she exclaimed. "Here in front 
 of you ! What ails you, Roger ? Take off this man 
 acleit hurts me ! Do n t you hear me ? " 
 
 "It is very odd," said Roger, turning to the doc 
 tor. What has become of Rachel ? She was here 
 just now, and I didn t see her go out. How was 
 it?" 
 
 "Mrs. Mowbray ? "responded the doctor, coolly. 
 "Why, my dear fellow, she just went out of the
 
 310 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 cave. Is it possible you didn t notice her? See!" 
 he added, pointing outward, " there she stands on 
 that rock at the entrance, beckoning to us! Come 
 on, it s getting damp, and we shall be catching 
 our death of cold. We have a long walk before 
 us." 
 
 The two men moved together toward the mouth 
 of the cave, Roger walking like a man in a dream. 
 Suddenly a piercing shriek filled the cave. " Roger! 
 my husband ! my love ! Hear me ! Come to me !" 
 Then came another shriek. 
 
 Mowbray and the doctor were now at the 
 mouth of the cave, and the latter pointed along 
 the beach to the right. "There she goes! "he said. 
 "Let us hurry and catch up with her. She will 
 stumble among these slippery stones and hurt her 
 self." 
 
 "Oh, God!" said a husky voice, strained and 
 unnatural. The chain rattled and strained ; there 
 was a groan. Mowbray had moved out of sight. 
 The doctor turned and looked into the cave with a 
 hideous expression ; then he, too, vanished. 
 
 A storm had been gathering during the after 
 noon, and soon after five o clock it burst over 
 Slyne Head, with frequent crashes of thunder and
 
 THE IRISHMAN S STORY. 311 
 
 zigzags of lightning. The rain hissed down in tor- 
 
 rents. 
 Six o clock 
 had passed 
 when Roger 
 Mowbray, his 
 clothes soaked 
 through, and a 
 scared, drawn look 
 on his face, walked has 
 tily into the inn, and called 
 for Pat Maguire. After the 
 summons had been repeated once or twice, with 
 increasing emphasis, Mrs. Maguire appeared from 
 the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. 
 "What would ye be pleased to want, sorr?" said 
 she. "Sure, Misther Maguire stepped out an hour 
 ago; he was after fearin ye d be caught in the
 
 312 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 rain, and t was warnin ye to come home he d be. 
 Didn t ye meet him at all, at all?" 
 
 "No. Has Mrs. Mowbray my wife has she 
 returned? " 
 
 "Yer wife, is it? Indade, then, she has not, sorr! 
 Ye re the first in this night." 
 
 "Doctor Gramery has not he got back? We 
 parted on the beach he took another path up the 
 cliff. Have you seen nothing of either of them?" 
 
 "Not I, Misther Mowbray hide nor hair av 
 em. But there was a bit av a letter the doctor 
 left this mornin , an he was tellin Misther 
 Maguire to give it ye at six o clock not sooner. 
 Maybe that ll explain things more betoken tis six 
 o clock now, an afther. Wait till I fetch it ! " 
 
 She disappeared into the kitchen, and returned 
 in a moment \vith a letter in her hands. Roger 
 opened it, and this is what he read : 
 
 " ROGER MOWBRAY: When you read this I shall have 
 accomplished the purpose for which I brought you down 
 here, and for which I have \vaited many years. You 
 know me as Griffith Gramery, but my true name is John 
 Felbrigge. Thirty years ago yourfather took away the 
 woman I loved, Mercy Holland, and ruined her. She 
 bore him a child; by his cruelty and neglect she died in 
 childbed. At that time he had already married; but his 
 Wife being an invalid, and incapable of raising up chil-
 
 THE IRISHMAN S STORY. 313 
 
 dren for him, he caused you to be put for ward as her sotij 
 thereby keeping the estates in the family. But you have 
 no more right to your name than any other base-born 
 waif of the gutter. 
 
 " I \vaited a long while for the proper time and means 
 for retaliation; but when I heard that you were 
 married, I saw my way. Last night I proved my 
 power over you ; to-day, in the cave, I shall put it into 
 practice. At the moment you read this, your wife, 
 chained to the rock by the manacle I have provided for 
 the purpose, will be drawing her last breath in loneliness 
 and agony an agony as great, I trust, as that which 
 3 r our father caused Mercy Holland to endure. And you, 
 realizing that you abandoned her there, misled by the 
 bewilderment I put upon your senses, will understand 
 something of the despair I felt when I knew that 
 the woman I would have made my wife had died 
 in shame and misery. May you live to endure that 
 despair as long as I have done! As for me, you will 
 never see me again. I have my place of retreat provided 
 where I shall spend many years in ease and comfort, 
 happy in the assurance that all I desired has been 
 brought to pass. Blessed be hypnotism! 
 "Yours to command, 
 
 "JOHN FELBRIGGE." 
 
 Roger Mowbray slowly laid the letter down on 
 the table, and looked up with a ghastly counte 
 nance. At that moment there was a hurried step 
 -on the threshold, a sound of voices, and the door
 
 314 
 
 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 was thrown open. In swept the storm, with wind 
 
 and rain; a clap of thunder shook the house; and 
 
 there stood 
 
 Pat Maguire, 
 
 red in the face 
 
 and breathless, 
 
 and leaning on 
 
 his arm, weak 
 
 and tottering, 
 
 her clothing 
 
 drenched and 
 
 torn, her wet 
 
 hair hanging 
 
 about her 
 
 shoulders, 
 
 her wrist 
 
 bruised and 
 
 bloody there 
 
 was Rachel 
 
 Mowbray, res- 
 
 cued at 
 
 utmost need, 
 
 with the sea leaping at 
 
 her very throat, by the worthy Irishman whom 
 
 chance had brought within hearing of her final out-
 
 THE SYMPOSIUM. 315 
 
 cry. There she was, no phantom of a bewildered 
 brain, but true flesh and blood, alive and safe 
 and in her husband s arms ! 
 
 Next morning, when the storm had cleared aw ay, 
 the dead body of Doctor Gramery, alias John 
 Felbrigge, was found lying at the foot of Slyne 
 Head, crushed and disfigured. How he came to 
 his death, whether by accident or design, was 
 never known. He may have lost his way and. 
 missed his footing in the storm ; or the horror of 
 the deed he had done may have proved too much 
 even for his iron nerves, and he sought oblivion in 
 suicide. He was buried where he fell, and the 
 great cliff is his gravestone; but the peasants 
 avoid the spot, and in the roaring of the waves 
 they sometimes fancy that they catch the fearful 
 outcry of a lost soul. 
 
 -X- -X- * 
 
 Now, gentlemen," said Sam, noticing that 
 some of us were beginning to glance covertly at 
 our watches, "w-e re only at the beginning of the 
 evening, and I ll have no one dropping out yet 
 awhile on any pretext whatever. There s a bowl 
 of punch will be in here before long, in which we ll
 
 -316 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 drink long Hie to Old Father Christmas, and many 
 another good old toast. And while we re waiting 
 for the punch to come, I think it would be no more 
 than fair for my friend here on my right to give us 
 an instance of some psychological phenomenon 
 that can t reasonably be referred to hypnosis. He 
 has challenged the last speaker s position, and we 
 are justified in assuming that he has something 
 more acceptable to substitute for it." 
 
 As Sam said these words, he turned in his chair 
 and fixed upon me the penetrating and inimitable 
 glance of those powerful eyes of his, whose com 
 pelling influence I had first felt on the occasion of 
 my introduction to the little eating house, years 
 ago, by the genial and mysterious Northam. I 
 looked round the table, and perceived that Sam 
 evidently had the house with him; there was 
 nothing for it but to get out of the scrape as best 
 I might. Now it so chanced that I had very lately 
 been the witness of an incident which had caused 
 me a great deal of speculation ; it was something 
 out of the common run, and would, I thought, 
 serve as well as anything else to en able me to make 
 a graceful retreat. So, without more ado, I pro 
 ceeded, as briefly as possible, to tell my attentive 
 audience
 
 MY OWN STORY. 
 
 317 
 
 MY OWN STORY. 
 
 If WAS on my way to witness 
 Professor Palliser s won 
 derful expei-iment. The 
 experiment was a 
 new one, and had never 
 before been exhibited. 
 Hastening along with my 
 head down, I came into col 
 lision with my old friend 
 Colbran, whom I had not 
 seen for three years, 
 though his fame had 
 reached me from abroad, 
 where he was acknowledged 
 to be the greatest baritone 
 singer of his time. He con 
 sented to go with me, and 
 we entered the professor s laboratory together. 
 
 The apparatus was very simple ; a structure of 
 vibrating strings and resounding metallic surfaces, 
 the whole about the size of an ordinary revolving 
 bookstand. It was supported on a low cylinder
 
 318 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 of Mexican onyx, on the top of which rested a 
 butterfly some nine inches across the wings. It 
 was not a real butterfly, but a beautiful and skill 
 ful piece of mechanism, as we perceived on handling 
 it. It was made chiefly of gold, and weighed, I 
 suppose, about eight ounces. 
 
 The professor explained to us the principle on 
 which he was "working, and told us what he was 
 going to do. Colbran listened very closely, and 
 seemed to grasp the central idea. 
 
 "Is not this coming very close to life ? " he finally 
 asked. 
 
 "Life," replied the professor, "implies what we 
 call emotion. Love is the most subtle and search 
 ing of all vibrations. Between that and the 
 etheric phenomena there is a gulf not yet bridged. 
 I am already able to set material objects in motion 
 by acting upon the atomic particles or molecules of 
 \vhich they are composed. I expect ultimately to 
 be able to create material substances out of ether. 
 But to instill life is a step beyond that. Life can 
 proceed only from life, directed and energized by 
 love. The process will probably turn out to be of 
 the most elemental simplicity, like all things 
 -supremely great ; it may be on the lines on which I
 
 MY OWN STORY. 
 
 319 
 
 am now working. But it is still, and may always 
 remain a mystery. 
 
 Here the professor took up an instrument some- 
 resembling an antique lute, and tried 
 the strings with a bow. Then, going to 
 the apparatus I have described, he 
 set in motion a small object attached to its 
 top ; it revolved rapidly on a vertical axis, emit 
 ting a clear note like a humming top. Standing 
 in front of the apparatus, he began to play a 
 simple tune on the lute, to which 
 the strings and metallic sur- J 
 faces of the apparatus returned 
 a resonant echo. Several 
 times he varied the pitch. 
 Suddenly a penetrat 
 ing, harmonious 
 note rang out, 
 and the golden 
 butterfly stirred, 
 and moved its wings. 
 The professor continued 
 to play vigorously. The 
 butterfly lifted itself in 
 the air, fluttered upward to the height of a couple 
 of feet, remained hovering suspended there for
 
 320 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 several seconds, and then fell slowly to the floor. 
 
 "Have you any objections to letting me try, pro 
 fessor," asked Colbran. "It seems to me that the 
 human voice may have a power in this direction 
 that would be worth studying." 
 
 "I beg you will proceed," the professor replied 
 courteously, but with a slight smile. He replaced 
 the butterfly on the column, and handed Colbran 
 the lute. 
 
 "No; I shall try to dispense with that," said 
 the latter. "If my notion has any basis in truth 
 the vocal chords are the only instrument required." 
 
 Standing erect in the center of the room, he sent 
 forth his voice in a note that vibrated in our ears 
 with the clearness of a silver trumpet, but much 
 finer in quality. He sang no words, but simply 
 ascended and descended the scale in varying modu 
 lations. What ensued was extraordinary. The 
 butterfly rose from the pillar, waving it wings 
 with long, tranquil strokes, and soared lightly 
 upward. Just before it brushed the ceiling, Colbran 
 struck a new key, and the golden insect, as if in 
 response to a summons, changed its course and 
 came hovering above his head. Again a. change ; 
 it flitted hither and thither about the room, now 
 approaching, now retreating from one or other
 
 MY OWN STORY. 321 
 
 of us, seemingly in obedience to the silent impulse 
 of Colbran s will. 
 
 " I have promised some friends to call on them 
 this evening," said I, when we were again in the 
 street. "I want you to come with me, and make 
 their acquaintance." 
 
 We \vere admitted to the house only to hear sad 
 tidings. The little girl had been attacked by 
 teething convulsions the night before, and had 
 just died. It was the grief stricken father who 
 told us this. They took us to an inner room, 
 where the little body was lying on its white 
 couch. 
 
 "What is her name? " Colbran asked, at length. 
 
 "Helen, "said the mother. 
 
 "Her spirit should not be far from us, as yet," 
 said he. 
 
 "The gulf is none the less deep for being recent/ 
 was the father s sad answer. 
 
 "There is no gulf so deep that love may not 
 cross it," said Colbran. "Can you believe 
 that the faith and will of united hum an spirits may 
 make itself felt even by those who have passed to 
 a sphere of life above the mortal ? " 
 
 The father shook his head gloomily; but the 
 mother, looking up. at the great singer with
 
 322 
 
 SIX CENT SAM S. 
 
 tremulous lips and streaming eyes, faltered out: 
 "I feel that she is near us ; but who can call her 
 
 back?" 
 
 "With God s help," replied Colbran, solemnly, 
 
 "I will try." 
 He lifted up his head, and presently his voice 
 
 vibrated on the still air. As before, there did not 
 
 seem to be ^ any words 
 
 and yet I J3i\ fancied 
 
 in those deep, 
 
 searching, rejoic 
 ing chords I could 
 
 trace the varied repetition of 
 
 Helen s name. Ah, what a 
 
 voice was that ! Strong as the 
 
 thunder of the ocean, gentle and 
 
 sweet as the sighing of ^Eolian 
 
 harp-strings ; methought I had 
 
 never known what music was 
 
 till now. The melody 
 
 thrilled the nerves and 
 
 glowed in the pulses ; 
 
 and as the singer pro 
 ceeded, he flung his 
 
 strains, until it seemed 
 
 very soul into the 
 as if love and life were 
 
 come from heaven to utter themselves through his
 
 MY OWN STORY. 323 
 
 lips. No description can convey the penetrating, 
 reviving, uplifting potency of that song. Its 
 power was almost awful, and yet so tender that it 
 drew tears to the eyes tears, and smiles such as 
 are born only of tears like these. 
 
 And now came a piercing cry from the mother. 
 
 "She moves! She is breathing! God! she is 
 alive!" 
 
 I looked in awe. Slowly the pale cheeks became 
 pink, the soft lips parted and trembled, the little 
 bosom stirred beneath its white drapery ; and as 
 the last notes of that mighty and mysterious song 
 died away, little Helen opened her eyes and was 
 in this world once more. 
 
 I felt a hand on my arm, and Colbran drew me 
 out of the room. The father and mother were 
 blind to everything but their unspeakable happi 
 ness. 
 
 "What are you? What have you done?" I 
 aid. 
 
 The week of Christmas had begun. All the stars 
 were out, and the chimes were ringing in the 
 steeples. 
 
 "I know nothing," said Colbran. "Men are 
 sometimes the messengers of God. This is the
 
 324 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 anniversary of the greatest mystery ; but, from the 
 beginning to the end, God is with us always." 
 
 X- * * 
 
 "Upon my word, sir," said the red-headed Irish 
 man, chivalrously, "you ve given us something to 
 think of that s away above the plane of hypno 
 sis altogether. And I tell you frankly, I rejoice 
 in the little discussion we had, if only because it 
 was the occasion of introducing us to your friend 
 Colbran. Faith, he ought to be one of us." 
 
 "And now, gentlemen," said Sam, rising, "if 
 you ll excuse me for a moment, I ll step out and 
 see about that punch." 
 
 He left the room, and we, left to ourselves, drifted 
 into general conversation. I began a dialogue 
 with the unseen gentleman (who had now become 
 visible) on the subject of Sam himself. 
 
 "As a matter of fact, what is he, and what is 
 his end in life? " I asked. "He is all things to all 
 men and yet he is of all men I know perhaps 
 the simplest and most straightforward. What 
 can be the reason that one of his ability and 
 resource should keep a six-cent eating house and 
 a pawn-shop? Such a man might, if he chose, 
 stand at the head of some vast industrial enter 
 prise ; or he might, if he would condescend to such
 
 THE SYMPOSIUM. 325 
 
 a thing, be president of the United States. There 
 is nothing he could not do, and do well; and yet 
 he hides himself in such a place and position as 
 this." 
 
 "The most powerful men in the world, there is 
 reason to believe, " replied my interlocutor, "have 
 not always, or often, been those whose attitude in 
 the public eye was most conspicuous. The great 
 est forces, both human and natural, are the invisi 
 ble ones. It is not easv to overestimate how much 
 lie sacrifices who puts himself where the world can 
 see and criticise him. The ideal life, both for hap 
 piness and efficiency, is the unseen life. What 
 greater power has mankind developed than the 
 power of democracv? And w r hat power is so 
 secret and inscrutable? Xow, to my thinking, our 
 friend Sam is the incarnation of democracy ; not, 
 of course, of that particular political party which, 
 for temporary reasons, assumes that title ; but ol 
 the essential, immortal democracy that embraces 
 whatever in human life is free, wise, and happy. 
 We can t measure his influence, or estimate his 
 ability ; he may seem to neglect all that we esteem 
 valuable, and to interest himself in matters that 
 \ve think trifling. Nevertheless, he is the man of the
 
 326 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 age and the man of the future, and the circum 
 stance that he sells cheap lunches and issues pledges- 
 for old clothing only serves to show that he repre 
 sents the people instead of merely himself." 
 
 Before I had time to think of the proper rejoin 
 der to these queer observations, the door opened 
 and in came Sam, and what? Yes, positively, he 
 had a lady on his arm. 
 
 Now, the mere fact that Sam had a lady on his- 
 arm would not, as the diligent student of these 
 reminiscences is aware, have necessarily awakened 
 any special amazement in our minds. But that he 
 should introduce a lady and such a lady as this- 
 was in that place and at that time, was certainly 
 startling. Who was she? Whence was she? 
 What was she here for ? 
 
 After the first moment of surprise was past, we 
 all rose to our feet as one man. Had you yourself 
 had the good fortune to see the lady, you would 
 have understood that this action was not the 
 result simply of the instinctive reverence that every 
 American gentleman feels for anything in the shape 
 of womanhood, but was due, in addition, to the 
 fact that this particular representative of the sex 
 was one of those who would command respect,
 
 THE SYMPOSIUM. 327 
 
 service and admiration from the veriest boors that 
 ever existed. She was a lady in the most exacting 
 sense of the term; beautiful, graceful, gracious, 
 distinguished, and withal charming, winning, and 
 lovable in the highest degree. 
 
 And she possessed still another characteristic 
 that commanded our homage. Not only did each 
 one of us recognize in her those qualities that were 
 to him especially attractive in woman, but also it 
 was somehow borne in upon us all that she was 
 singularly and peculiarly fitted to be the counter 
 part and fellow-being of Sam himself. She was, so 
 to say, his interpretation and reflection in feminine 
 form; she belonged to him by nature; and Sam, 
 able and unconquerable though he always was, 
 had never appeared so thoroughly himself never so 
 complete and satisfactory as he did when stand 
 ing there with this superb creature smiling and 
 blushing on his arm. They were a pair, if ever 
 there was one; and nobody was in the least 
 unprepared for the words which Sam now 
 uttered : 
 
 "My friends," quoth he, "I have the pleasure of 
 presenting to you my wife." 
 
 We all gathered round them, and were made
 
 328 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 known to her personally, one after the other. It 
 was not long before we felt as if we had known 
 her as long as we had known Sam. She had the 
 art of friendly cordiality, and she seemed 
 acquainted \vith us beforehand. She said to each 
 of us the thing, whatever it was, that made him 
 conscious that he was understood and liked. What 
 a wonderful thing a good, beautiful, human 
 woman is, to be sure ! How she clears and sweet 
 ens the atmosphere, and calls out the best man 
 hood of every true man! How many women are 
 there who, coming unexpectedly in upon a party of 
 men at the end of such a dinner as we had just 
 enjoyed, would not have created embarrassment 
 and uneasy artificiality? But Mrs. Sam had just 
 the opposite effect ; we now realized that the din 
 ner would have gone for nothing had it not been 
 crowned and consummated by this rare and 
 delightful rose of bridal loveliness. 
 
 Well, we took our seats again, and I had the felic 
 ity and distinction of sitting next to Mrs. Sam, 
 who sat next her husband. And now the bowl of 
 punch was brought in, smoking and fragrant. It 
 was the best of punches, but after Mrs. Sam, any 
 thing, no matter what, \vould have been an anti-
 
 THE SYMPOSIUM. 
 
 329 
 
 climax. However, she ladled it out to us with her 
 own white, beautiful hands, and we all stood up 
 
 to drink 
 
 venerable 
 
 i n fl u ence 
 
 is certain 
 
 Sam 
 
 u n 
 
 bv 
 
 her health. And if that 
 ceremony has anv 
 at all, then it 
 that Mrs. 
 will remain 
 touched 
 time, 
 
 sickness, grief, or any mortal ill, for the next cen 
 tury or two at least. 
 
 I don t know what time it came to be; but Mrs. 
 Sam looked so fresh and rosy and hospitable that, 
 to look at her, it always seemed as if the evening
 
 330 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 must be only just beginning. However, I suppose 
 at last it was borne in upon our minds that we 
 had not been invited to breakfast, and that, if we 
 were to go at all, we must go speedily. Then Sam 
 stood up to say the parting words : 
 
 "My dear friends and good fellows," said he, "it 
 is only in one sense that this can be considered a 
 farewell. It won t be the fault of my wife and 
 myself if we don t meet again, soon and often; our 
 house will always be open to you, and the sooner 
 you make yourselves at home there the better we 
 shall like it. But this is the last time we shall see 
 you in the room in which we now sit ; to-morrow, 
 this house passes into the possession of a new 
 owner, and Six Cent Sam s will become a memory 
 of the past. That chapter of my life is closed, and 
 henceforth I enter upon a new one. 
 
 "There are more ways than one of being useful 
 in this world ; I have thought that, even in this 
 country, where men have better chances to be useful 
 than in any other, they were sometimes kept from 
 it by traditions and prejudices which once were 
 good, perhaps, but have outlived their time. Men,. 
 I thought, ought to come nearer to one another ; 
 artificial distinctions ought to be ignored, and 
 we should attempt to bring about a brotherly-
 
 THE SYMPOSIUM. 331 
 
 feeling, the better to fight the evil in the world and 
 promote the good. Man is meant to stand with 
 his feet on the earth ; whoever tries to lift himself 
 too high above it, loses strength just as much as 
 does he who sinks beneath it. But I m not going 
 to preach philosophy to you, nor to relate my 
 autobiography ; you know as much of me as it is 
 worth anybody s while to know. When, some 
 years ago, I came to these convictions, I had been 
 looking forward to a happiness which to-night, I 
 thank my Maker, sits here beside me. But I 
 thought that I should not be worthy of that hap 
 piness until I had done something to give practical 
 proof of the faith that was in me ; so I left the 
 place in which accident and fortune put me, and 
 lived the life which you all have seen, and in which 
 I have been honored by your friendship. 
 
 "Now that it is over, and the blessing of my life 
 has come to me, I look forward to no idleness and 
 indulgence, but I feel that I have before me a 
 greater and harder work than ever, and one that 
 I could not accomplish without the help and sym 
 pathy of this wife of mine. We shall not give the 
 people cheap things to eat, nor advance them 
 money on humble security, but we shall enter into 
 a larger and more complex society, to deal with
 
 332 six CENT SAM S. 
 
 which more skill, knowledge, and charity are 
 needed. I could not enter upon it with confidence 
 alone ; but with this companion beside me, I am 
 not afraid, for she is what I most aspire to be, and 
 she will not allow me to forget the words of the 
 good, immortal Book, of him to whom much has 
 been given, much will be required. 
 
 It is not very long since this event occurred; 
 but enough time has passed to show that 
 Sam and his \vife \vill be as good as their word. It 
 would need another volume to tell all that this 
 means ; but whoever has realized what is best and 
 most real in the life of the American people, will 
 know of what nature the contents of such a book 
 would be.
 
 John Holden, Unionist. 
 
 A powerful novel of the days of De 
 struction and Reconstruction, 
 
 BY T. C. DE LEON, 
 
 Author of "A Fair Blockade Breaker," 
 " Creole and Puritan," " Four Years in 
 Rebel Capitals," "Juny," etc. 
 
 ILLUSTRATRD 
 
 With ten full page drawings by CHARLES 
 EDWARD BOUT WOOD and CHARLES A. 
 CORWIN. 
 
 Handsome Cloth, 12 mo, $1.50. 
 
 For sale at all bookstores, or sent post-paid 
 upon receipt of price, by the publishers, The Price- 
 McGill Company, 455-473 Cedar street, St. Paul, 
 Minnesota.
 
 BROADOAKS. 
 
 An interesting Story of the South 
 
 BY M. G. MCCLELLAND, 
 
 An American Author whose Public is 
 Large and Appreciative of Literary 
 Talent. 
 
 HANDSOMELY ILLUSTRATED 
 
 t With full page drawings by CHARLES 
 EDWARD BOUTWOOD. 
 
 Fiiie Cloth, 12 mo, $1.00. 
 
 For sale at all bookstores, or sent post-paid 
 upon receipt of price, by the publishers, The Price- 
 McGill Company, 455-473 Cedar street, St. Paul, 
 Minnesota.
 
 Sylvester Rornaine. 
 
 A Graphic Story of the Times,* 
 
 BY CHAJRLES E. PELLETREAU, B. D. 
 
 Strongly Written, Well Told, and Skil 
 fully Handled. 
 
 "An admirable story illustrating the triune vir 
 tue of faith, hope and charity." Burlington 
 Hawkey c. 
 
 * Has an abundance of incident and 
 clever portraiture of character." San Francisco 
 Chronicle. 
 
 "This interesting story opens with a wreck at 
 sea, in which a young couple, who are upon 
 their bridal tour, are engulfed in the tempes 
 tuous waters. This is only an introduction to 
 the stirring events which follow." Toledo Blade, 
 "A story of especial interest for its study of 
 types." Boston Ideas. 
 
 Attractively Bound in Modern Cloth, 12 mo, 81.00. 
 
 For sale at all bookstores, or sent post-paid 
 upon receipt of price, by the publishers, The Pnce- 
 McGill Company, 455-173 Cedar street, St. Paul, 
 Minnesota.
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 A 000124293 2