The Manning times. [volume] (Manning, Clarendon County, S.C.) 1884-current, 1899-05-24
THE GRAY TOWER.

IN itself, and there are some lnlnSs
which make me unwilling to say all
I know, at least in print.
The Gray Tower was the southeast
corner turret Of that stone building
which stood until quite recently on
Wayerley place, at the corner of Wash
ington square. 1t had a picturesque
effect as you walked down University
place from Union Square, and it was
almost the only romantic building IN
New York.
My first chapter opens on a winter
day about 1890 or 1892, if 1 recollect
rightly. 1t was showing heavily as
stepped into Broadway, and 1 turned
up my collar and stood moment ir-
resolute. The old horse cars tangled
by with lneir bells muf1ed in the
snowy storm; the tall newspaper offices
across City Hall square twinkled and
shone from their thousand windows,
and I was slowly turning toward the
Park place station, when I sew what
I guessed, even at that distance. to be
a familiar figure cross the brilliant
light Of one Of the highest windows on
the other side Of the square. 1t was
Collins. No one else moved about 4
room in just that loping, darting man.
ner. I knew it was his Office, and
knew he was the very man l wanted
to see before dinner. hurried over
to Park Row and was shot up to his
floor.
"Hullo, old man; busy?'
''No, no; come in"
Collins sat under an electric light, a
pair of shears in his hand and a sea
Of papers tossing round him. He part
ed the red hair back from his forehead
with his left hand, and looked up.
quickly with that childish, gnome-like
smile, and the piercing, glittering, blue
eye-nght, that his friends knew so
well. Suddenly he dropped the shears
and ran his long, conspicuous hand
hurridly through the stack Of old pa.
pers he had been clipping.
Look here, look here! This is what
you ought to see! Where is that copy?'
What are you looking for?"
Something found this afternoon,
It's a romance; q whole story Of forty
years ago; the most startling piece OF
fiction in real life. And not a scare
head to it! o, those fellows didn't
know how to make up paper?'
(Fumbling all the, time and rummag.
ing with that aggressive handy Now,
I have lost it. Where in the name of
seven"
Then he swore feverishly in a high
minor cultural.
'Ah, here it is. Look at that, look
at thatp'
His eyes were like glowing steely
ginlets, and the perspiration started
on his temples in his excitement. 1t
was nothing but an old scrap Of IN.
believable romance he had unearthed
1t had no possible use to him. But
he was always a tinder-box Of en-
thusiasm, and fred like a child at
small things. Collins has no particular
part in this story, yet can never dis.
sociate him from it. Its strange un.
e1plainable quality has a certain kin,
ship with his half-canny personality,
so that I never recall it without feeling
his eyes burning into me with in.
credulity and delight and defiance and
mockery, as he handed me that torr
issue Of a New York journal Of half
century ago.
AS he said, they made little display
Of startling matter in those days, and
the story, as remember, was told il
that brief, sober way which has since
become almost extinct among news
paper men.
Briefly, it was an account Of q
strange discovery made by some work.
men who had been repairing one OF
the towers Of the old building on
Washington square. In making their
renovations they had come upon dis
used closet, whose door had been
bricked up and roughly plastered over
On the closet floor, covered with i'm.
palpable dust, clothed in her silk even.
ing dress, lay the beautiful specter
Of woman.
say specter, for it seems destruc.
ton had come upon her so gently, sc
furtively, that her body was almost
unmarried, except for the dinginess OF
where she lay, or there had been some
time. There are records Of such in.
stances, showing that dissolution is
not always swift to follow death. Bu,
whether the present case had been due
to the sealing Of the narrow room
chemical treatment Of her body and
garments after death, was all surmise
But there was the fact. On the dusty
door, in a little apartment scarcely
larger than an ample bath, as if she
had fallen in faint, with one arm
spread abroad and the other hand at
her throat slept young beauty, arrest.
ed in mid pleasure $50 she looked, and
held there in duress while the busy
round Of life rumbled in the streets
below. It must have been the very
pathos and wistfulness Of beauty-the
image of that shadowy loneliness,
snatched away from the midst Of JOY
and gayety, so untimely, and not even
allowed the common boon Of oblivion
Where was she all this while, the radi
ant spirit who had dWelt in that come.
" tenement? Had she herself, too
like her frail, indestructible person,
been held in suspense somewhere
neither among the living nor the dead
It was white, white silk and mass
of white lace, that she was dressed in
And under the soilure Of dust the pale
gold of her hair was shining and alive
But the only clew to her identity was
the small cambrie ha udkerchief, in
itialed in one corner n. D.
When had read the article. Collins
said:
"How's that?"
"Fine."
why don't you lnve' tigate it?'
'Tnvestigate It? What is there to in
vestigate? This is all ancient history"
swell, perhaps. Still, I have an idea
You know the building don't you?"
Eyes, I have seen it. I have neVes
been in it. I answered.
every good" said he. "Now I know
an old fellow who lives there; has
rooms in one Of the towers; the tower
on the southeast corner. I'll give you
a card to him. Go and see him. he u
full Of stories Of the building; has had
a roost there for fifteen years or more,