Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1895-11-23

name on its pedestal, "Commodus In Hunt
ing Costume; from villa near Tusculum
The case by it's side contained the hob
jects of virtue in gold and precious stones.
which His Magnifcence. the Butler. had so
highly commended to them. Mr.. Maurice
Miller paused and examined the trinkets
a twist of his wire key he forced open the
case and helped himself to the articles which
he had noted that afternoon as most intrin-
sically valuable.
AS he did so he looked up. and his eye
caught that Of the Dying Gladiator" The
Dying Gladiator'S'' stony gaze seemed to
be fixed on him intently. For moment
he started. remembering at that juncture
Joe Stokes words. '"rhey give me the cold
shvers, standing there all the time as white
as a corpse, and rolling their dead eyes at
you" The Gentleman Burglar drew back
a pace and stared fixedly at the statue, turn
ing his light full upon 1t. The statues eyes
seemed to follow him steadfastly. Anybody
who knew anything of the methods of sculp-
ture would have known at once why, but Mr..
Maurice Miller did not. The Dying Giadi-
ator's" eyes had the pupils deeply sunk and
cut in obliquely; and, according as the light
falls upon them such eyes seem TO roll and
reflect it variously. The depth of The stone
looks as though Illuminated from within
mySteriouSly. With the concentrated rays
of the dark lantern. the illusion was COM
plete. For a second the Gentleman Burglar
really half believed the statue was glazing
at him.
1t was only for a second however. Time
place and action, all were momentarily
disconcerting. You can't help being nerv-
Gus when you're robbing museum. Next
minute he had walked boldly up to the
Dying Gladiator, laid his hand with firm
ness on the cold marble limbs. put his ex-
ploring little finger into the rolling eyeballs
and satisfied himself thoroughly that the
Gladiator was stone. and that his eyes were
mere empty and hollowed-out sockets.
The incident unnerved him. however. Joe
Stokes words had exercised an unwontedly
discomposng influence STILL business IS
business, and being man of parts, he re-
turned to 1t sedulouSly. He continued to
pick out the objects that suited him best
and then glanced up casually once more
toward the Nymph of Diana. Again he gave
a start. The Nymph of Diana was positively
smiling at him. Well she might. indeed; for
she had continued to Smile-one might al
most say to simper-for near two thousand
years. Yet that stony smile threw him off
his guard again. Alone IN that vast room,
he approached the statue with huShed
breath. Vague shadows from the sculpture
fioated huge over the ceiling as he moved
his little lamp. The silence seemed to hum.
He almost longed to see those white limbs
begin to move. The solitude and the stoni-
ness were enough to appall him.
|. He touched the Diana. She was lifeleSS
as the Gladiator Her eyes, not followed
out, but staring like death, were less and
yet, at the same time, more human than the
others. Her smile was CHASTITY. He re-
treated with a shudder Half unable to go
on, he laid down his lamp Cor a moment on
the base of the CommoduS.
Alarmed, yet ashamed of himself, he pull
ed out his handkerchief and wiped his clam
my brow. AS he did SO, he felt sure the
Commodus drew a long breath anI peel ed
down at him scrutinizingly. He was so GER
tain of the fact that, for . moment, he did
not even dare to look up. Then he turned
and gaZed. And the Commodus, without
moving muscle Of its stone face, gazed