The Red Cloud chief., 1906-12-21

a dirty and nondescript hue, and the
floor was innocent of carpet. Yet In
the middle Of the room stood a fine old
Cromwell table. and IN the plain deal
bookshelves and along the mantcl-
piece were some valuable books-polit-
ical and historical. There were no cur
tains on the windows and n common
reading lamp with n green shade stood
on n desk. IL was the room OF n man
with few hobbies and no pleasures.
who existed because he was alive and
worked because he must.
Three nights after the great fog John
Loder sat by his desk In the light of
the green shaded lamp. The remains
Of a very frugal supper stood on the
center table, and in the crate n small
and economical looking fire was burn
ing.
Having written for close on two
hours, he pushed back his chair and
stretched his cramped fingers. Then
he yawned, rose and slowly walked
across the room. Reaching the mantel-
piece he took a pipe from the pipe rack
and some tobacco from the jar that
stood behind the books. His face
looked tired and a little worn. as Is
common with men who have worked
long at an uucongenial task. Shredding
tie tobacco between his hands he
slowly filed the pipe, then lighted it
from the fire with u spill Of twisted
paper.
Almost at the moment that he ap-
piled the light the sound of steps
mounting the unexpected stairs outside
caught his attention and he raised his
head to listen.
Presently the steps halted and he
heard a match struck. The stranger
was evidently uncertain of his where
abouts. Then the steps moved forward
again and paused.
An expression Of surprise crossed
Loder's face and he laid down his pipe.
AS the visitor knocked he walked
quietly across the room and opened the
door.
The passage outside was dark and
the newcomer drew back before the
light from tie room.
"Mr. L.oder?' he began intcrroga-
lively. Then all ut once he laughed in
embarrassed apology. Forgive me-"
he said. THE light rather dazZlad me.
l didn't realize who 1t was
Loder recognized the voice as belong
ing to his acquaintance Of the fog.
'Oh, it's your he said. Wont you
come in?" His voice was n little cold.
This sudden resurrection left him sur
prised, and not quite pleasantly sur
prised. He walked back to the fire.
place, followed by his guest.
The guest seemed nervous and agi-
tated. II must apologize for the hour
Of my visit" he said. "My-my time Is
not quite my own"
Loder waved his hand. Whose time
is his own?" he said.
Chilcote, encouraged by the remark,
drew nearer to the fire. Until this mo-
ment he had rcfrained from looking d.
rectly at his host. Now, however, he
raised his eyes, and, despite his prepa-
ration, he recOiled unavoidably before
the extraordinary resemblance. Seen
here, In the casual surroundings of n
badly furnished and crudely lighted
room, il was even more astounding
than 1t had been in the mystery of the
fog.
Forgive me-" he said again. ut Is
physical, purely physical. l am bowled
over against my WILL"
Loder smiled. The slight contempt
that Chilcote had first inspired rose
again, and with 1t a second feeling less
easily defined. The man seemed so un.
stable. so incapable, yet so grotesquely
suggestive to himself.
The likeness Is rather overwhelm-
ing" he said. but not heavy enough to
sink under. Come nearer the fire. What
brought you here? Curiosity? There
was a wooden armchair by the fire.
place. He indicated it with a wave of
the hand, then turned and took up his
smoldering pipe.
Chilcote, watching him f%urtively,
obeyed the gesture and sat down.
1T is extraordinary" he said, as If
unable to dismiss the subject. Tit
is quite extraordinary
The other glanced round. Lets drop
it," he said. Its so ~confoundedly OBJ
vlous." Then his tone changed. won't
you smoker" he asked.
Thanks" Chilcote began to tumble
for his cigarettes.
But his host forestalled him. Taking
a box from the mantelpiece. he held 1t
out.
MY one eXtravagance!' he said iron
ically. my u bind mt to one;
and | think | have made a wise selec-