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THE
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O NCE upon a time. tome people In India
made* a new Heaven and a new Earth out
of broken teacups, a missing brooch or
two. and a hairbrush. These were hidden under
bushes, or stuffed Into holes in the hillside, and
an entire Civil Service of subordinate Gods used
I to And or mend them again; aad every one said;
•There are more things In Heaven and Earth
than are dreamed of lb our philosophy.'* Several
other things happened also, but the Religion
never seemed to get much beyond Its first mani
festations, though It added an airline postal dak,
aivi orchestral effects in order to keep abreast
of the times, and stall off competition.
This Religion was too elastic for ordinary us«.
It stretched itself and embraced pieces of every
thing that medlclne-men of all ages have manu
factured. It approved of and stole from Free
masonry. looted the Hatter-day Kosicrualans of
half their pet words; took any fragments of
Egyptian philosophy that It found in the Ency
clopaedia BritannJea; annexed as many of the
Vedas as had been translated into French or
English, and talked of all the rest; built ih the
German versions of what is left of the Zend
Avesta; encouraged White, Gray and „Bluck
Magic, Including spiritualism, palmistry, for
tune-telling by cards, hot chestnuts, double-
kernelled r.nts and tallow droppings; would have
adopted Voodoo and oboe had It known any
thing about them, and showed Itself. In every
way, one of the most accommodating arrange
ments that had ever been Invented since the
birth of the Sea.
When It was In thorough working order, with
all the machinery down to the subscriptions
complete, Dana Da came from nowhere, with
nothing In his hands, and wrote a chapter In its
history which has hitherto been unpublished.
He said that his first name was Dana, and his
second was I)a Now, setting aside Dana of th*
New York Suji. Dana Is a Bhll name, ami Da fits
no native of India unless you accept the Bengali
De as the original spelling Da Is Hap or Fin
nish ; and Dana Da was neither Finn. Chin.
BhU. Bengali. Lap. Nalr, Gond. Romaney. Magh.
Bokharlot. Kurd. Armenian. Levantine. Jew. Per
sian. Punjabi. Madrasi, Parsee. nor anything
else known to ethnologists. He was simply
Dana Da and declined to give further informa
tion. For the sake of brevity and as roughly
Indicating his origin, he was called The Native."
He might have been the original Old Man of the
Mountains, who is said to be tbs only authorised
bead of the Teacup Creed Home people said
that ho was; but Dana Da used to smile end deny
any connection with the cult; explaining that ha
was an "Independent Experimenter. 1 '
As 1 have said, he oame from nowhere, with
his hands behind his back, and studied the Creed
for three weeks, sitting at the feet of those best
competent to explain Its mysteries. Then he
laughed aloud and went away, but the laugh
might have been either of devotion or derision.
When he returned he was without money, but
his pride was unabated. He declared that he
knew more about the Things in Heaven and
Earth than those who taught him. and for this
contumacy was abandoned altogether.
His next appearance In public life wai at a bl*
cantonrner.t in Upper India, and* be was then tell
ing fortunes with the help of three leaden dice,
a very dirty old cloth, and a little tin box or
opium pills. Ho told better fortunes when he
was allowed half a bottle of whiskey; but the
thing- which he invented on the opium were
quite worth the money. He was In reduced cir
cumstances. Among other people's he told the
fortune of an Englishman who had once been In
terested In the Simla Creed, but who, later on.
had married and forgotten all his old knowledge
in the study of babies and Exchange. The Eng
lishman allowed Dana Dk to tell a fortune for
charity's sake, and gave him live rupees, a din
ner. and some old clothes When he had eaten.
Dana Da professed gratitude, and asked if there
were anything he could do for his host—In the
esoteric line
’is there any one that you love?" said Dana Da.
The Englishman loved his wife. but nad no de-
rlre to drag her name into the conversation.
He therefore shook his head.
Is there any one that you hate?" said Dana
Da The Englishman sah\ that there were s«v-
e: hi men whom he hated deeply.
"Very good." said Dana l>a. upon whom the
Ji'NDAY AMEIMCAN. ATLANTA. OA.. SUNDAY. MAY
whiskey and the opium were beginning to tell.
"Only give me their names, and 1 will dispatch
a Settling to them and kill them."
Now a Sending Is a horrible arrangement, first
Invented, tiie.\ ay, in Iceland. Jt is a Tiling
sent by a wizard, and may lake any form, but,
most generally, wanders about the land in the
shape of a little purple cloud till it finds the
Sendee, ami him It kills bv changing into the
form of a horse, or a cat, or a man without a
face, it is not strictly a native patent, though
chamars can. If Irritated, dispatch a Sending
which sits on the breast of their enemy by
night and nearly kills him. Very few natives
urc to irritate chamars for this reason.
"Let me dispatch a Sending," said Dana Da;
"I am r.e.irly dead now with want, and drink,
and opium; but I should like to kill a man befora
i die. J can send a Sending anywhere you
choose, and in any form except in the shape of
a man."
The Englishman had no friends that he wished
to kill, but partly to soothe Dana Da, whose eyes
were rolling, an/1 partly to see what would be
done, he asked whether a modified Sending
could not he arranged for—such a Sending as
should make a man’s life a burden to him, and
yet do him no harm. If this were possible, he
notified his willingness to give Dana Da ten
rupees for the Job.
"I am not what I once was." said Dana Da,
"and I must take the money beenuse I am poor.
To what Englishman shall I send It?”
"Send a Sending to Hono Sahib," said the Eng
lishman. naming a man who had been most
bitter In rebukin.g him for his apostasy from the
Teacup Creed. Dana Da laughed and nodded.
"I could have chosen no better man myself,"
said he. "I will see that he finds the Sending
about Ills path and about h!s bed."
He lay down on the hoarth-rug. turned up the
whites of his eyes, shivered all over snd be
gan to snort. This was Magic, or Opium, or
the Sending, or all three. When, he opened his
eyes he vowed that the Sending had started upon
the warpath, and was at that moment flying
up to the town where the Hone Sahib lives.
"Give me my ten rupees," an Id Dana Da. wear
ily, "and write a letter to Hone Sahib, telling
him, and all who believe with him, that you and
a friend are using a power greater than theirs.
They will see that yon are speaking the truth "
He departed unsteadily, with the promise of
some more rupees if anything camo of the Send
ing.
The Englishman sent a letter to Hone Sahib,
couched In what he remembered of the termi
nology of the Creed. He wrote: "I also. In the
days of what you held to bo my backsliding,
have obtained Enlightenment, and with Enlight
enment has come Rower." Then he grew so
deeply mysterious that the recipient of the letter
could make neither head nor tail of It. and was
proportionately Impressed; for he fancied that
his friend had become a "fifth-rounder." When
a man is a "fifth-rounder’ he can do more than
Slade and Houdin combined.
Hone Sahib read the letter in five different
fashions, and was beginning a sixth interpreta
tion when his bearer dashed In with the news
that there was a cat In the bed Now if there
was one thing that Lone Sahib hated more than
another, It was a cat. He rated the bearer for
not turning it out of the house. The bearer said
that he was afraid. All the doors of the bed
room had been shut throughout the morning,
and no real cat could possibly have entered the
room. Ho would prefer not to meddle with the
creature.
Lone Sahib entered the room gingerly, and
there, on the pillow of his bed, sprawled and
whimpered a wee w’hite kitten, not a Jumpsome,
frisky little beast, but a slug-like crawler with
Us eves barely opened and its paws lacking
strength or direction—a kitten that ought to
h«*ve oeen In a hasket with Its mamma. Lone
Snhlb caught it by the scruff of its neck. handed
It over to the sweeper to be drowned, and fined
the bearer four annas.
That evening, as he was reading In his room,
he fancied that he saw something moving about
on the hearth-rug. outside the circle of light
from his reading lamp. When the thing began
to myowl, he realized that It was a kitten.—a
wee w'hite kitten, nearly blind and very miser
able. He was seriously angry, and spoke bit
terly to his bearer, who said that there was no
kitten In the room when he brought In the
80
KJ
faj
—!l-=-
“He was seriously angry and spoke bi tterly to his bearer, who said that
there was no kitten in the room when he brought in the lamp.”
lamp, and real kittens of tender age generally
had mother-cats In attendance.
"If the Presence will go out Into the veranda
and listen," said the bearer, "he will hear no
cats. How. then Iorp. can the kitten on the
bed and the kitten on the hearth rug be real
kittens?”
Lone Sahib went out to llsten.^and the bearer
followed him, but there was no sound of Rachel
mowing; for her children. He returned to his
room, having hurled the kitten down the hill-,
side, and wrote out the Incidents of the day
for the benefit of his co-religionists. Those
people were so absolutely free from superstition
that they ascribed anything a little out of the
common to Agencies. As it was their business
to know all about the Agencies, they were on
terms of almost Indecent familiarity with Mani
festations of every kind. Their letters dropped
from the celling—unstamped—and Spirits used
to squatter up and down their staircases all
night. But they had never come Into contact
with kittens. Lone Sahib wrote out the facts,
noting the hour and the minute, as every Psych
ical Observer is bound to do, and appending
the Englishman's letter because It was the moat
mysterious document and might have had a
bearing upon anything in this world or the
next An outsider would have translated all the
tangle thus: "Look out! You laughed at me
once, and now T am going to make you sit up.”
Lone Sahib's co-religlonists found that mean
ing In It; but their translation was refined and
full of four-syllable words. They held a sede
runt and were filled with tremulous Joy, for in
spite of their familiarity with all the other
worlds and cycles, they had a very human awe
of things sen.t from Ghostland. They met in
Lone Sahib's room in shrouded and sepulchral
gloom, and their conclave was broken up by a
clinking among the photo frames on the mantel
piece. A wee white kitten, nearly blind, was
looping and writhing itself between, the clock
and the candlestfrks. They stopped all investi
gations or doubtlngs. Here was the Manifesta
tion In the flesh. It was. so far as could bo
seen, devoid of purpose, but it was a Manifesta
tion of undoubted authenticity.
They drafted a Round Robin to the English
man. the backslider of old days, adjuring him in
the interests of the Creed to explain whether
there was any connection between the embodi
ment of some Egyptian God or other (I have
forgotten the name) and his communication.
They called the kitten Ra, or Toth, or Shem, or
Noah, or something; and when Lone .Sahib con
fessed that the first one had, at his most mis
guided instance, been drowned by the sweeper,
they said consolingly that in his next life ne
would be a "bounder." and not eVen a "rounder”
of the lowest grade. These words may not be
quite correct, but they express the sense of the
house accurately.
When the Englishman received the Round
Robin—It came by post-—he was startled and
bewildered. He sent Into the bazar for Dana
Da, who read the letter and laugheji. "That s
my Sending," said he. "I told you 1 would work
well. Now give me another ten rupees."
"But what in the world is this gibberish about
Egyptian Gods?" asked the Englishman.
".Cats!" said Dana Da with a hiccough, for he
had discovered the Englishman’s whiskey bottle.
"Cats, and cats, and cats! Never was such a
Sending. A hur/1 red of cats. Now give me ten
more rupees and write as i dictate."
Dana Da’s letter was a curiosity. It bore the
Englishman's signature and hinted at cats—at a
Sending of Cats. The mere words on paper were
creepy and uncanny to behold.
"What have you done, though?” said the Eng
lishman.; "I am ;ts much in the dark as ever. Do
you mean to say that you can actually send this
absurd Sending you talk about?"
y "Judge for yourself," said Dana Da. “What
does that letter mean? In a little time they will
all be at my feet and yours, and I, O Glory, will
be drugged or drunk all day long."
Dana Da knew his people.
When a man who hates cats wakes up in the
morning and finds a little squirming kitten on
his breast, or puts his hand into his ulster pocket
and rinds a little half-dead kitten where his
gloves should be, or opens hts trunk and finds a
vile kitten among his dress shirts, or goes for a
long ride with his mackintosh strapped on his
saddle-bow and shakes a little squalling kitten
from Its folds when, he opens It, or goes out to
dinner and rinds a little blind ? Uteri under his
chair, or stays at home and finds a writhing
kitten under the quilt or wriggling among his
boots, or hanging, head downward, in his tobacco
jar, or being mangled by his terrier In the veran
da when such a man finds one kitter. neither
more nor less, once a day In a place where no
kitten rightly could or should be, he is naturally
upset. When he dare not murder his dally
trove because he believes It to be a Manifesta
tion, an Emissary, an. Embodiment, and half a
dozen other things all out of the regular course
of nature, he is more than upset. He is actually
distressed. Some of Lone Sahib’s co-rellgionists
thought that he was a highly favored individual;
but many said that if he had treated the first
kitten with proper respect—as suited a Toth-
Ra-Tum-Sennacherib Embodiment — all this
.trouble would have been averted. They com
pared him to the Ancient Mariner, but r.one the
less they were proud of him and proud of the
Englishman who had sent the Manifestation.
They did not call it a Sending because Icelandic
magic was not In their programme.
After sixteen kittens, that Is to say after one
fortnight. for* there were three kittens on the
first day to impress the fact of the Sending, tno
whole camp was uplifted by a letter—It came
flying through a window—from the Old Man of
the Mountains—the Head of all the Creed—ex
plaining the Manifestation in the most beautiful
language and soaking up all the credit of It for
himself. The Englishman, said the letter, was
not there at all. lie was a backslider without
Power or Asceticism, who couldr.’t even raise a.
table by force of volition, much less project an
army of kittens through space. The entire ar
rangement, said the letter, was strictly ortho
dox, worked and sanctioned by the highest Au
thorities within the pale of the Creed. There
was great joy at this, for some of the weaker
brethren, seeing that an outsider who had been
working on independent lines could create kit
tens. whereas their own'rulers had never gone
beyond crockery—and broken at that—were
showing a desire to break line on their own
trail. In fact, there was the promise of a schism.
A second Round Robin, was drafted to the Eng
lishman, beginning, "O Scoffer,’’ and ending with
a selection of curses from the Rites of Mizraim
and Memphis and the Commination of Jugana,
who was a "fifth-rounder," upon whose name
an. upstart "third-rounder” once traded. A papal
excommunication Is a billet-doux compared to
the Commination of Jugana. The Englishman
had been proved under the hand and seal of the
Old Man of tho Mountains to have appropriated
Virtue and preTended to have Power which, in
reality, belonged on.lv to the Supreme Head.
Naturally the Round Robin did not spare him.
He handed the letter to Dana Da to translate
into decent English. The effect on Dana Da
was curious. At first he was furiously angry
and then he laughed for five minutes.
"I had thought," he said, "that they would
.have come to me. In another week I would
have shown that I sent the Sending, and they
would have discrowned the Old Man of the
Mountains, who has sent this Sending of mine.
Do you do nothing? The time has come for me
to act. Write as 1 dictate and I will put them
to shame. But give me ten more ruprsr.”
At Dana Da’s dictation the Englishman wrote
nothing less than, a formal challenge to the Old
Man of the Mountains. It wound up: "And If
this Manifestation bo from your hand, then let
it go forward; but if it be from my hand, I will
that the Sending shall cease in two days’ time.
On that day', there shall be twelve kittens and
ther.eeforward none at all. The people shall
Judge between us." This was signed by Dana
Da. who added pentacles and pentagrams, and a
crux ansata, and half a dozen swastikas, and a
Tralple Tau to his name, just to show that he
was all he laid claim to be.
The challenge was read out to the gentlemen
and ladies, and they remembered then that Dana
Da had laughed at them some years ago. It was
officially announced that the Old Man of the
Mountains would tr' * the matter with con
tempt. Dana Da being an Independent Investiga
tor without a single "round" at the back of him.
But this did not soothe his people. They wanted
to see a fight. They were very human for all
their spirituality. Lone Sahib, who was really
being worn out with kittens, submitted meekly
to his fate. He felt that he was being "kittened
to prove the power of Dana Da," as the poet
sa ys.
When the stated day dawned the shower of
kittens began. Some were white and some were
tabby, and all were about the same loathsome
age. Three were on his hearthrug, three in fils
bathroom, and the other six turned up at Inter
vals among the visitors ’who came to see the
prophecy break down. Never was a more satis
factory Sending. On the next day there were
no kittens, and the next day and all the other
days were kittenless and quiet. The people mur
mured and looked to the Old Man of the Moun
tains for an explanation. A letter, written on a
palm leaf, dropped from the celling, but every
one except Lone Sahib felt that letters were not
what the occasion demanded. There should
have been cats, there should have been cats—
full-grown ones. The letter proved conclusively
that there had been a hitch In the Psychic Cur
rent which, colliding with a Dual Identity, had
Interfered wHth the Percipient Activity all along
the main line. The kittens were still going on,
but owing to some failure in the Developing
Fluid they were not materialized. The air was
thick with letters for a few days afterward.
Unseen hands played Gluck and Beethoven on
finger-bowls and clock shades; but all men felt
that Psychic Life was a mockery without Ma
terialized Kittens. Even, Lone Sahib shouted
with the majority on this head. Dana Da’s let
ters were very insulting, and If he had then
offered to lead a new departure there is no
knowing what might not have happened.
But Dana Da was dying of whiskey and opium
In the Englishman’s godowr. and had small heart
for new creeds.
"They have been put to shame," said he.
“Never was such a Sending. It has killed me.”
"Nonsense,” said the Englishman; "you are
going to die, Dana Da. and that sort of stuff
must be left behind. I’ll admit that you have
made some queer things come about. Tell me
honestly, now, how was it done?"
"Give me ten. more rupee..,” said Dana Da
faintly, "and if I die before I spend them, bury
them with me." The silver was counted out
while Dana Da was fighting with Death. His
hand closed upon the money and he smiled a
grim smile.
"Bend low," he whispered. The Englishman
bent.
"Bunn la—Mission school—expelled—box-wal
lah (peddler)—Ceylon pearl merchant—all m 1 n.e
English education—outcasted, and made up
name Dana Da — England with American
thought-reading man and—and—you gave me
ten rupees several times—I gave the Sahib’s
bearer two-eight a month for cats—little, little
cats. I wrote and he put them about—very
clever man. Very few kittens n.ow In the bazar
Ask Lone Sahib's sweeper’s wife.”
So saying, Dana Da gasped and passed away
Into a land where. If all be true, there are no
Materializations and the making of new creeds
Is discouraged.
But consider the gorgeous simplicity of It all!
V .,
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I I
I
/
A
YOUNG man of twenty-two lay on a sofa
In the great, cheerless room with his
face to the wall. From time to time be
clenched his hands In agony and bit his Ups
to keep the hot tears from flowing. Only the
day before he had been ntrong, rugged and
happy; now he lay a helpless and pain-wraoked
cripple doomed to a life of misery Just because
the chestnut mare had. bolted «t the last fence
After a time tHe door was opened to admit
two men. unnoticed by the youth who lay
moaning on the sofa. The younger man pushed
the other aside, took a small phlul from his
vest pocket, walked to the table, filled the
syringe he found lying there ami administered
che Injection to the suffering boy.
The effect was Instantaneous. The boy's
clenched hands relaxed, his face grew calm and
peaceful; a great stillness seemed to settle over
him. and ho opened his eyes
"Hallo, Dr. Ylncey." be said cheerfully.
"Well, flavoring, bow are you feeling?"
"All right, thanks. It was pretty awful Just
now. What did you give me?”
“Nothing; my friend did it Shall I Intro
duce him?"
The bov looked up at the tall dark man who
was watching him from the -background.
"That was awfully good oJ* you." he said.
"What w::s the stuff?”
"It w - a iittle of a drug 1 brought back
from Indi with me.” Caradac answered.
"You must be awfully clever." Trevor Clav-
n’hg said presently.
The two doctors sat down, and presently the
oys eyes grew heavy; a feeling of warm
drowsiness stole over him. He smiled at them
apologetically at last.
"Thai drug—awfully sleepy.” he murmured.
I>r Yincev took nlarni at once.
"You are sure that stuff was perfectly all
right. Caradoc?" be asked.
"Perfectly. Unfortunately*, the effects pass
off in that sleep. He will be no better and no
worse when he awakes”
"Caradoc.” the old doctor spoke slowly, hesi-
ifttijniily, "J don't like the arts you practise.
the unholy drugs you use, the experiments you
attempt, but can you not do something for that
boy ?”
"1 will come and see him again to-morrow,"
the other replied. "I may possibly be able to
cure him.”
And with this answer Dr. Ylncey had to be
content.
It was In the afternoon of the next day that
Caradoc again entered Trevor Clavering's room,
lie bad come alone.
The Invalid was longing with nil his soul to v
the
red-brown
earth
In
the
hers,
after the
hounc
Is.
He
t cross-country
rider
in
tho
what was he?
had been the bes
country, and now-
lie had worked bhnself up into his usual fit
of despairing passion, so that when Caradoc
stood beside him the strong face and powerful
figure made bis helplessness seem greater.
"Oh, i^s you!" he said ungraciously. "I can't
bear any visitors." lie turned his head away
and sulked.
Caradoc made no sign that he bad heard I To
sat down in a big chair on the opposite side of
the fire.
••Clavering," he said. "I want to talk to you
for a while. You have had enough of that tor
ture! When do you mean to ride again?"
The boy gasped.
"Mv God!" he said In low. tense tones. "I
would give all 1 possess to be half as strong
as 1 was."
"Which would you rather.” Caradoc asked,
with h little smile, "live as you are. or—-die?”
He looked straight Into the boy’s face. The
action was theatrical but effective. Clavering
felt the fascination of the man.
"Die." he said curtly.
Caradoc again took a small phial from his
vest pocket and held It up to the light. It was
full of a pale yellow liquid, thick and sluggish.
Three drops of that." he said In the same
even tones, "and it would be all over—all the
pain and the misery and the torture It will
cause strange dreams and then nothing. No
horror or fear at all. and no traces after death
to show you—cleared out."
Then he began In a low musical voice to
describe the morning hunt In the neighboring
bills. The effect on Clavering was Wonderful.
The thought that never again w*ould he par
ticipate iij such pleasures caused him to writhe
In agony and cry out hoarsely:
"I don’t want to die; 1 want to live! I would
give half my life to be able to ride again.”
Caradoc s brilliant eyes were on the boy's
face, steady, glowing.
"You shall not die,” he said. "You shall live;
you shall ride again."
Clavering did not speak; he only waited
breathlessly.
"I have made a study of drugs unknown
here," Caradoc went on, "and there is an ex
periment with one of them which I want to
try, If I can find a subject. That subject can
only be a man in the prime of his life, who,
at an earlier period, has passed through a time
of both mental and physical agony—as you
have. In every way you are the man fitted
for my purpose If I give you back your lost
health and strength, will you consent to give
yourself to me at such a time as I shall re
quire you?"
"Can you give me back all I have lost?"
Clavering asked, and the eagerness in his tones
was piteous.
"1 certainly can There Is an operation—
almost unknown to the medical world—which
will restore life and power to the spinal nerves,
even when they are as badly damaged as In
your case I have seen this operation once
performed. It Is enough. I shall not fall."
' Are you sure? There Is no doubt about it?**
"I am .certain."
in you do it to-night” To-morrow? I’ll
> thing, give you anything, If you make a
man of me again.”
"I only ask that you promise to give your
self to me unconditionally at about a certain
age probably In twenty years' time. When
all is ready, I shall come for you.”
Tw nty years? You give me twenty years?
Why. man. it Is Heaven you are opening for
me
I must have your consent in writing; also.
the arrangement must be kept a secret. You
must fully understand tc what you are binding
yourself. The experiment I wish to attempt to
do with the brain and nerves. There is not
the remotest chance of your recovering from
It.”
Clavering did not wait to think.
"I agree," he said briefly.
Gervase Caradoc was shown into the library,
where, twenty years before, Trevor Clavering
had lain helpless and In pain; where that
strange bond had been signed between them;
and where the operation wbl h had convulsed
the medical world hnd been performed.
In a few minutes the door opened and he
turned to face Clavering, who came in quickly,
shut the door and bowed.
Caradoc looked at him steadily and the lids
drooped over his brilliant eyes. Clavering was
a magnificent animal:
“Why did you—go away?" Caradoc asked.
"I went on my honeymoon," Clavering said
pleasantly.
"Ah! You are married?”
"1 am married."
“So!”
"I have been abroad. Did you follow me?"
"No I had lost sight of you." Caradoc re
plied, with the grace of a large mind which
can concede a point. "Why did you return?"
he added curiously.
“Soonor or later I knew you would find me.
I preferred that my wife should be settled here
before " he paused.
"Then you have made all your arrangements
and are prepared””
"I am prepared to pay you anything you
wish, instead of what was originally prom
ised."
"I only want what was originally promised."
"You hold me to it. then? You hold me to a
bond made when I was undergoing a most dev
ilish torture, when 1 was too weak to resist
your will?”
Clavering's eyes flashed.
"I hold you." Caradoc replied coldly, and Clav
ering flared up.
y Arthur Str
"Then I absolutely refuse to do anything so
diabolical." he said resolutely. "I refuse to
keep the bond. I will pay you almost anything
you may ask for the operation you performed
twenty years ago. That is my final word.”
Caradoc smiled a little.
“I want no money," he said calmly. “I only
want you. For thirty years I have waited. Ten
years I was searching for a subject for this
operation; then I found—you. I warn you," he
added, "that whether you consent or refuse to
keep the bond In one week from now my ex
periment w*ill be complete."
The steady, cruel voice lashed Clavering.
"You must be mad,” he said, nervous with
feverish rage.
“Oh, you would like to make that charge?
Who would believe you? What proof have you?
No! You can find no escape," continued Cara
doc.
"Do you think I am going to die like a vivi
sected dog?" Clavering cried, passionately. "Do
you know how strong I am? Do you suppose
I will lie down and let you or any man cut me
open to please your brutal fancies while I have
a breath of life In me?*’
His voice was hoarse and sRvage. His hands
were clenched. He was fighting for the life he
loved.
Some one, singing softly, passed the closed
door. The two men heard the voice and the
light footsteps die away in the distance. Then
Clavering spoke again.
"Caradoc, that was my wife," he said, strug
gling against a sob which threatened to master
him. "I swore you should not come between
us before I made her mine, and now—the crown
of jvomanhood is coming to her*. For the sake
of that, for the sake of any woman you have
ever loved, let me go "
The sneer on the other's face silenced him.
Against Caradoc s powerful self-control his
passloh had no chance. He had used his last
argument; he could say no more.
The footsteps crossed the hall again Then
the door opened, and. full In the glory of the
sunshine which streamed in behind her. stood
his wife, young and beautiful, looking at Them
over the flowers which filled her arms.
"Oh, I beg your pardon," she said. "I thought
you were alone."
Obeying a sudden impulse, Clavering went
to the door.
“Come in,” he said. "Let me introduce you
to my wife, Caradoc."
“I believe we have met before.” she said
quietly, bowing slightly and turning as if to
leave the room.
Caradoc came a step after her, as if to de
tain her. His brilliant eyes were worshipping,
they were hungry for love. Clavering opened
the door, and as she passed she smiled at him.
Then he swung round.
"Where did you meet my wife," he demanded
Caradoc was gazing out of the window, with
his back to Clavering, and did not reply for
several minutes. Then he turned a saddened
and careworn face to Clavering.
“I loved her first," he said slowly. "She wns
the desire of my world. She never cared for
me. I " he paused. He could not open his
heart. “She was only a girl then. And I have
saved you for her—that Is the Irony of It."
"She loves me. If I die—" Clavering stopped
short. The thought of her suffering was the
greatest agony for him.
"Yes, she loves you. It was in her eyes Just
now, when she turned from me and smiled at
you." Caradoc said, with a quaver in his vQloe.
The man's whole bearing altered The life,
the strength had gone from him. There was
silence—a dragging silence, tense and painful,
and then:
"I give you back your bond, Clavering," Car
adoc said. "I give up all the working and wait
ing of my life."
He turned to the door. Clavering could not
find anything to say. In silence he held out
his hand, but Caradoc refused to see it
"Good morning," he said In dull tones. "The
game lies with you after all."
He went out, and Clavering looked after the
man who had held his life In the hollow of hla
hands, but who had given it back to him for
the sake of a woman who had crossed his path
in sunlight.
i * i
I For a Hundred
Frills Read....
II,
By JACK LONDON, which begins
in the Monthly Magazine with S
eriean
vl