The daily morning journal and courier., 1905-10-23
AUTERARY VAMPIRE.

prize winners are generally disappoint- ing-Iet us see. Well, l must say 1t starts out Interestingly" Suddenly he paused and puzzled look crept over his face. He read a few lines further and then gazed at the open pages with a feeling akin to horror.
 Is this a daylight nightmare?" he quired. looking at the bright sunlight. Am I sane, or, perish the thought, am a subject for the great building over wonder, whose inmates I have often pitied? I who pride myself on my brain power"
 Again he turned to the magazine. James Forester, winner of the SlO,0OO prize,'' he read, and still the story, word for word, had been laboriously thought out by his own brilliant mind. How familiar each idea appeared as he read them on the printed page. How did James Forester secure the story; who was he, and, worse than all, how had the story slipped his own memory, and why hadn't he written it as had been his intention?
 |. Signing in perplexity, he rose, and putting all the resources of his active brain to the task of remembering, be- gan to pace his study. Slowly he com menced to trace backward; bit by bit, like dark mosaic, he put the events of the past together.
 Where and when had the last thought of the great prize winning story Oc- cured to him? Wait-he almost had it now-now he grasped it. Back and forth, back and forth, like a caged tiger he paced in his excitement. Mentally he saw himEelf sitting on a bench in the park engaged in conversation with a young man.
 Faster and faster were the wheels of memory turning, and he saw himself deep in the joy of at last having men tally builded his great story, starting on his accustomed walk in the park. He had walked some distance and, hay ing reached the secluded spot where he ordinarily rested, had found his seat already occupied by a young man. No ! ticing the dark, penetrating eyes, the nervous artistic hands and the high forehead and thinking he might find here an interesting subject, he had en- tered into conversation with him, and not greatly to his surprised found one. | They had discussed the prize offer of a leading magazine, and after being rather closely questioned by the young writer, he had determined that he held the plot and detail of a story in his head which he thought unusually good, and sure enough (here he gave a sav- age kick at the rug), so it had proved 1 Their conversation had drifted to other subjects, and then, he could not be sure, but it seemed as if he had fallen asleep in the warm summer air.
 Struggle as hard as he might with his brains memory cells, he could not ] tell what had become of his companion. He remembered waking up and finding it quite dark, fact which he mo- ticed with surprise, returned home Now, why-why hadn't he written that story? Why had he utterly forgotten 1 it, until now he saw it word for word as a $10,00O prize winner under a strange authors name. To add bit , terness to the cup. the editor of the magazine added the comment to the remarks regarding the decision that ''The young author had undoubtedly gained inspiration from the works of i Donald Moore, for the story resembled his style in many ways"
 It was aggravating and he would go straight to the office and demand an explanation. Then the thought came to him how foolish, and how they would laugh Why, he would have to admit that he had not given even the bare de- tails of the plot to the young man, and, to tell the truth he could not furnish a sound reason why he should connect the story and stranger together. No, he must go slow; but, by heavens, he would probe the matter to the end.
 He first secured a copy of the maga- zine, in which photograph of the young author appeared. Feverishly he opened it. An! the very eyes, the same deep, penetrating look; now he felt sure there was a mystery back of it all, and have an interview with the young man he would.
 Without delay he hastened to the residence given in the magazine, but. much to his disappointment, the volu- ble landlady informed the noted author that the interesting stranger had gone to the country for his health, taking his wife and child. "Then he had a wife and child?' "Oh, yes; lovely girl wife and wee babe.'' Could she give him the address?" She thought she could, for she had noticed it as the trunk stood in the hall
 The following morning he again set 
 out, but the same story was repeated. Again and again he followed, only to be disappointed, and the indignant au- thor found his intended victim to be a vertiable will O the wisp.
 Growing desperate, he put detective on the track, with the same result.
 A year had passed and the anger of Donald Moore had somewhat cooled, al- though the whole affair still remained an aggravating mystery, when one morning letter came, directed in a queer, shaking hand Opening it, he read with glowing surprise and won der:
 When you receive this I will have passed into the great silence and an
 explanation is due you. God knows you have bounded me for one during the Hast year. The day you addressed me in the park I was in despair. I had
 been told that there were only a few months at the most of life left me and