The Washington critic., 1889-01-12
lble.lookinr dwelllnp.honsos.

i knew inc place. III was Wnere Harry
Somcrs had his room.
The man whom / followed run up the
steps of the house occupied by Harry's
relatives, opened the door,sprang through
it and closed it swiftly, but noiselessly.
In an instant was on the steps Juggling
at the bell with all my might. 1t was
some minutes before the summons was
answered. 1t was Harry who came to
the door.
Great Heavens What Is the mat
ter p said he. "Why do you come urg.
ing fellow up out of bed at such an
hour MS this? What has happened p
Murder" said l, "and the murderer
is here in this house"
Here You must be mad"
81 tell you it is So / saw him with my
own eyes; | have traced him every step
Of the way. The police should know of
this at once, and they shall" "
At the mention of the police he
| started.
Follow me into the house." he said,
flinging open the door.
lie led the way up stairs and stopped
before room on the top floor. We
| listened moment and heard meanings,
as if some one were in deep pain. l
| pushed the door open and saw the being
had just encountered. He was in
| pitiable agonies.
| He held half-drained wine glass in
| his hand, and as he writhed in pain he
changed His height seemed to increase,
his face lost its hideous lines; it was the
transformation in the play AT its end
our friend, NJ, stood before us limp
and pale, painting for breath.
'Ah, Harry, you are up late tonight"
he said, as he.caught sight of us. And
you are quite welcome" he went on,
turning to me, though l must admit en-.
tireiy unexpected. | am glad you came
when you did. / have had such hor.
rible dream as | sat here in front of the
! fire. 1t was mercy on your part TO
awaken me from it, | assure you"
Don't tell him." said Harry to me in
a whisper "He knows nothing of what
has happened. The play has turned his
head. "
We left him soon after, he laughing
at himself for having gone to sleep and
dreamed his own play. He told us what
had occurred and at the close remarked
good humoredly:
''Now there's devotion to art for you.
| can't get away from the play night or
days. That dream comes so often its
getting to be a nuisance. Won't you
have a glass of wine before you go to
bedY' he asked crossing to decanter by
the side of'which stood the glass he had
just held in his hand. mo? Well if
you wont,::why,, good night to you. I'll
go to bed and sleep in earnest this time.
Harry and l turned sadly away.
"What am l to do?' the poor fellow
said. eve kept him here with me for
three weeks now, and he is constantly
escaping me. When he is once in that
condition he is as cunning as fox and
as strong as q bull, | cannot give him
up to the authorities and yet realize
that it is impossible for me to control
him"
How do you persuade him to remain
herc?' | asked.
ooh, that is no trouble. He says he
likes to stay here much better than at
the hotel, although he keeps his apart.
ments there. He says it is more home.
like"
you should follow him wherever he
goes" | said, and as / said it L remem
bered my own chase after him and of
how nearly came losing him.
81 have tried it often" said Harry
shaking his head. 81 dare not keep him
under, lock and key or he would become
offended and leave me altogether. l can
not askasoul for help or the police would
at once notify him."
did not attempt to give him advice
for | had none to offer.
L could not remain in London after
what l had seen, and left for America the
next day. Harry came to the station tc
see me off.
Good bye, old man," he said, in {
husky voice, as he shook my hand, "a
wish were going with you, but fellow
mustn't desert friend, must he? Maybe
his mind will come back to him all right
after bit can't leave the poor fellow
till it does"
ut was terrible shock to my nerves
and every time | see a newspaper / shud
der. Wouldn't read a newspaper through
now for all the money in America.
PHLIT g. JOHNSON.