The Goodland republic., 1906-01-19
THE RAZOR AND THE VIAL


Don't call me for breakfast in the
morning" This instruction was given
to a servant in the hall who had just
shown the speaker to the room which
I occupied on the third floor Of the
hotel
The newcomer closed and secured
the door, deposited his valise and
OvercOat on the floor and turned up
the gas, while I, who had been awak-
ened by his entrance, lay blinking at
the light which glared in my face. As
the clerk had told me they were
crowded and he said they would prob
ably have to put some one else in my
room when the 1910 express arrived,
was not surprised or alarmed at this
midnight intrusion.
The stranger was man perhaps 80
years Of age; he was above medium
height, Of athletic build, clean shaven
except a light blond mUstache, and
had the manner and general appear
ance which would lead a casual Obser-
yer to denominate him as one Of that
variegated class commonly known as
commercial tourist
Having completed my mental criti-
Cism Of him, was about to close my
eyes and endeavOr to resume my
much needed repOse, as had to take
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for the first time a good view Of his
face in the light I noticed a gloomy
and troubled look upon his counten-
ance. 1t was evident that a great
weight Of sorrow, some CALLING burden
Of grief, rested on his mind.
His was not the weary and jaded
look Of one who was worn out with
long travel no; il was sad, gloomy,
and respondent yet fierce, determined
and desperate It was calculated to
arouse curiosity and sympathy, and at
the same time to Overawe prying
scrutiny and TO repeI prOffered sym
pathy.
lay eyeing the man, who had not
taken notice of me or seemed to be
aware OF my presence Nothing but
excessive mental torture and great
travail Of spirit could produce on the
cOuntenance an expression so pitably
sad and yet so fruitfuIIy desperate.
As in gloomy and meditive silence
he undreSSed himself, with consider
able effort drew of his trim, narrow
tOed CATERS and prepared to retire, I
wOndered what mighty grief il was
that had fastened itself upon him;
what wrongs had he suffered, what
disappointment encountered, or what
crime had he committed that now
and wFung his soul in torture He at
last seemed ready to retire, but in
stead Of doing so, opened his valise,
which lay at his feet, and, after rum
maging over its contents a while, took
out a razor and began strOpping it on
the palm Of his hand.
As I looked at his face, now darker
and more determined than ever, at
the bright blade which glittered in the
light, and at his neck, now barred to
his breast, an appalling possibility
flashed to my mind: Is he about to
end his suffeIIngs-to quiet the pangs
Of remOrse with the horrible and cow
ardly crime Of self-murder2 Is he
about to thrust his blackened soul into
the presence Of his Maker with this
crOWning act Of wickedness? Am I
TO witness a horrible and bloody deed?
1 could scarcely restrain myself
from springing up and crying out, yet
almost feared to breathe. lest I
should attract his attention Trans
fixed with terror and alarm, I lay,
cOnvulsively cluthing the butt Of my
revolver beneath my pillow and
watching his every motion, as, with
demOniacaI deIiberatiOn he continued
strOpping the razor on the palm Of
his mand, now drawing Il across his
thumb nail. now holding it toward the
light to inspect the keenness Of the
edge. He soon laid the razor on the
table, again turned to his valise, and,
after a Monuments search, he took
out a slender vial containing some
dark liquid
It was now clearly evident that he
was bent on self-destructiOn yet it
was with some relief that I saw that
he had chosen a milder method Of
taking his life was seized with an
impulse to spring forward and snatch
the razor from his reach and il pos
sible, TO thwaTt him in his fell designs
upon his own life. I would reason
and plead with him; I would tell him