The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1893-05-12

lOCh luC III. l.
would have gone with you. / would
have helped you"
A accident-quite an accident"
answered Keyork, divesting himself
OF his fur coat. 1.-The lock is a pecul-
lar one, and in my hurry / forgot to
show you the trick of it,"
Il tried to get out" said Unorna
with a forced laugh II tried to
break the door down with a club, l
am afraid I have hurt one OF your
specimens"
She looked about the room. Every
thing was in it's usual position except
the body of the African. She was
quite sure that when she had heard
that unearthly cry the dead faces had
all been turned toward her.
"It Is no matter" replied Keyork
in a tone of Indifference which was
genuine. Il wish somebody would
take my collection off my hands. 1
should have room to walk about with
out elbowing a failure at every step.''
81 wish you would bury them ALL"
suggested Unorna, with a slight shud-
der.
Keyork looked at her keenly.
"Do you mean to say that those
dead things frightened youP' he
asked, incredulously.
mo; / do not. | am not easily
frightened. But something odd hap
pened-the second strange thing that
has happened this evening. Is there
| anu ono nnnnao1a1 IN fhie oon St
Not a rat-much less a human be-
ing. Rats dislike ~creosote and cor
rosive sublimate, and as for human
beings"
He shrugged his shoulders and
smiled.
Then. i have been dreaming" said
Unorna, attempting to look relieved.
Tell me about him. Where is he?"
'.ln bed-at his hotel. He will be
perfectly well Tomorrow.
'Did he wake?:n she asked anxious
ly.
eyes. We talked together"
"And he was in his right mindP"
apparently. But he seemed to
have forgotten something"
Forgotten! What? That I had
made him sleep?"
Eyes, he has forgotten that, too"
''In heavens name, Keyork, tell
me what you mean! Do not keep
me-
'tHow impatient women are!" ex-
claimed Keyork, with exasperating
calm. what is that you most want
him to forget?n I.
"YOu cannot mean
Il car and I do. He has forgotten
Beatrice. For a witch-well, you are
a very remarkable one, Unorna. AS
a woman of business" He shook
his head.
s'What did you mean this time?
What did you say?n Her questions
came in a strained tone and She
seemed to have difficulty in concen-
her emotions, or both.
'You paid a large price for the in
formation" observed Keyork.
What price? What are you speak
ing of? l do not understand"
Your soul" he answered. with a
laugh. THAT was what you offered
to any n who would tell you that
the Wanderer was safe. | immedi-
ately closed with your offer. It was
an excellent one for me-"
Unorna tapped the table inpatient
ly.
II am tired of your kind of w.t."
she said.
The kind of wit which is called
wisdom is said to be fatiguing," he
retorted.
Il wish you would give me an
opportunity of being wearied in that
way"
Begin by opening your eyes to
facts, then. 1t is you who are trying
to jest. 1t is 1 who am in earnest.
Did you, or did you not, offer your
soul for a certain piece Of informa-
tionP Did you, or did you not, hear
those dead things moan and cry?
Did you, or did you not, see them
move?"
'.How absurd!" cried Unorna.
''You might as well ask whether, when
one is giddy, the room is really going
round. Is there any practical differ
ence. SO far as sensation goes, be-
tween a mummy and a block of
wood?"
THAT, my dear lady, is precisely
what we do not know and what we
most wish to know"
''But how do you know what hap
pens when decay is not only arrested
but prevented before it has begun?
How can you f~oretell what may hap
pen when a skillful hand has restored
the tissues of the body to their orig
jnal f~exibility or preserved them in
the state in which they were last SEN
| s~itive?"
Nothing "a ever make me be-
lieve that a mummy can suddenly
hear and understand, said Unorna;
s.much less that IL can move and pro.