Los Angeles herald., 1906-04-08
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from spiritfasl resuming his wild song imme-
diately afterwards. Usually foe to intoxicants,
he was now taking draughts of brandy in reck-
less fashion, and / knew that he was working
himself up for his iendish task The cold grey
cell, the dim light, the gibbering thing at the
table chanting my death song, formed a picture
that has lived in my memory ever since, ana
often have ] started from sleep with cry OF
terror, shivering at the recollection OF this night.
The cell had been gradually growing brighter,
and at last on ore side Of the easement, through
the tangles of ivy, appeared the silver arc or
the moon whose arrowy beams slanted to the
floor, adding still greater sense of welrdness 70
the scene. The moon seemed to have disturb
ing effect upon the artists disordered mind, tor
he turned uneasily to the easement.
'Ioo much light Too much light ] hate
this silvery glare" and raising his arms ne ex-
claimed tragically. ooh, Endymion why sleepest
thou? Rise with thy white arms and draw
Cynthia down to thy embrace"
AS he spoke the moon actually was veiled by
a passing cloud.
81 knew he would obey me-" he exclaimed tri-
umphantly Gam not l lord of the night and OF
its shadows?"
Had there remained in my mind any doubt as
to his sanity this absurd effusion would have
effectually removed it. The sound OF the church
clock Ginning the half hour now smote on my
ears. If the maniac adhered to his threat had
but thirty minutes left to live, and | concen-
trated all my faculties upon the difficulties OF my
position. My uncle must by this time have re-
turned with Sir Hugh. and finding myself as
well the keys of the Nuns Tower and the
gallery missing, would guess where l was and
they might even now be on their way to seek
me and to arrest the artist. IF they were listen
ing outside they would hear Angeles voice and
would understand the peril was in. They could
not easily force the door, nor, if they had any
suspicion of the artists insanity, would they be
so rash as to Try, but one blow would shatter the
window and give them instant admission into
the tower
Buoyed up with the hope that help might ar
rive at any moment. / resolved il possible, to
soothe and fatter the maniac, with view OF
gaining time and Of getting him to postpone his
self-imposed task beyond the midnight hour.
would persuade him to talk of his last picture,
of his brother artists of his early days at Rivoli
of anything, that would divert his attention
from me, and delay the fatal stroke.
"Angelo, listen to me-" I said, forcing my
voice to adopt the slow deliberate tones l have
heard hospital nurses employ in order that they
NAV the more readily find lodgment in the dis
ordered brain-'T am quite willing to die"
Even while saying this, the incongruity of
telling falsehood when so near the point of
death occurred to me, but 1 repeated the false
hood:
''I am quite willing to die
''It is sweet to die~for art" cried the artist
rravelv, as if the remark were an indisputable
axiom.
''I will not struggle with you"
This at least was true, for the sllken bands
would not let me.
Daphne wished you not to struggle, remark
ed the madman.
'But before go, tell me-tell me-" hesi-
tated, not knowing what to say next. "Tell me
what has become of my brother George?" I
cried. on the spur of the moment. You must
know" added.
"Your brother?" cried the artist, his eyes
lirhtinr I'D, as if some new chord in his men,
orv were touched. "Your brother?"
He was silent for a moment as if rehecting;
and then looking all around, as if to ascertain
that we were alone, he whispered
'"You will never reveal to any one what [ am
going to tell you?
''If will not be within my power to reveal
ANYTHING after you have finished with me" | re-
plied with smile that was the essence of ghast-
liness ,,
''True. true: am forgetting that"
Taking up the stained poniard, he bent for
ward in his chair and whispered between his
white teeth:
month old-a twelvemonth this very night
Making stab at an imaginary figure, he look
ed at me, and said; walt IL sho" you ho"
did it presently" -.
ttT am quite willing to wait" Ny trembling
Inns could scarcely frame the words. Let me
have the whole story-every word. l shall not
mind if you take hours over it"
''You shall have the whole story. Oh you
shalI NOT lose a syllable of it! Ho! no! it was
ma etor.stroke Of craft Was Borgia or Mac
nhovclli ever more cunning? i glory in the
decd I love TO dwell on it. / act it every night
Tn the secrecy Of my chamber, in the quietness
of tho nicture.rallery, I rehearse the whole tab
Loan of that glorious time. They would not per-
NIT me to do this in the day time, you know"
hc said exchanging his excited manner Tor one
that was quite grave and confidential. Ihey
would call inc mad: they would take me away
far away from nv studio and my easel, and they
world nut me in a padded room, and / should
naint no more. But 7 am too cunning for them" :"
ho cried his eyes lighting up once more with
tbo frn of madness. 'I bafhed them. They
know not that in the still hours, while they
sloep. am occupied in the work OF killing Cap
tain Willard. He takes deal OF killing, tool"
he added, resuming as if by, magic his quiet air
acoin, "Each night I slay him; yet each night
he rcturns again, clamoring for the death-stroke
7 would not believe it if did not see it for my
Golf Strange. is it not?" he concluded, turning
to mo. go
"Tt's extraordinary!' my white lips gasped
Which. if it were true, it most certainly was
The maniac stared at me n few seconds with
most bewildered air looking as If he had forgot
ten something, or as if he did not quite under
stand how / came to be IN my present position,
and then went on:
dyes. this red stain is his I slew him. Why?
7 ,et me think" resting his elbow on the table
and pressing his forefnger to his brow for all
the world like sane man. LET me think; had
a motive for IT, What was it? Love of my art?
Yes, that was tart"
He paused again, as If he found it difficult to
l.