The Miller press. [volume] (Miller, S.D.) 190?-current, 1907-10-31
or Dead?'
The Strange Disappearance OF
Gerald RathbOne.
~ Guy THoRkx.
~ guy THoRkx.

The mouth was opening and shutting
rapidly in an agony OF appeal. 1t
seemed as though a torrent OF words
must be pouring from it, though there
was not a sound of human speech in
the large, warm room.
Great tears rolled down the large,
pale cheeks; the brow was wrinkled
with pain. The hands ~gesticulated
and pointed, pickering rapidly hither
and thither without sound; and con-
tinually, over and over again, the
hands pointed to the cleaning silver
case for cigarettes which Donald Meg
bic clasped tightly in his right hand.
The silent, agitated Thing, SO close
oh, so close!-was trying to tell
Donald something.
1t was trying to say something
about the cigarette case; 1t was try
ing to tell Megbie something about
Gerald Rathbone.
And what?
What was this fearful message that
the agonized Thing was so eager and
SO horribly impotent to deliver?
Megbie's voice came to him. 1t
sounded thin and muffied, just like the
voice of q mechanical toy.
What is it? What is it? What
are you trying to say to me about
poor Gerald Rathbone?"
And then, as If it had seen that
Megbie was trying to speak to it,
but it could not hear his words, the
figure of Eustace Charliewood wrung
its hands with a gesture which was in
expressibly dreadful, unutterably pain
full to see
Megbie started up. He stepped
forward. "Oh, don't! don't!" he said.
AS he spoke he dropped the cigarette
case, which up to the present he had
clutched in a hot, feverisb hand. 1t
fell with a clatter against the fender
that, at any rate, was a real noise!
In a moment the hopping, moving,
weeping phantom was gone. The room
was exactly as ii had been before
still, warm, brilliantly lit. And DON
aid Megbie stood upon the hearthrug
dazed and m~otionless, while a huge
and icy hand seemed to creep round
his heart and clutch 1t with lean cold
fingers.
Donald Megbie stood perfectly mo-
tioniess for nearly a minute. Then he
knelt down and prayed ~fervently for
help and guidance. At moments such
as this men pray. Much comforted
and refreshed, he rose from his knees
and went to one of the windows that
looked out over the Thames. He pull
ed aside the heavy green curtain and
saw that a clear, colorless light imme-
diately began to flow and flood into
the room. it was not yet dawn, but
that mysterious hour which immedi-
ately presages the dawn had ONE
The river was like a livid streak of
pewter; the l~eafless plane-trees of the
e~mbankment seemed like delicate
tracery Of iron in the faint half-light.
London was still sleeping.
The writer felt very calm and quiet
as he turned away from the window
and moved toward his bedroom.
The fire was nearly dead. but he
saw the silver cigarette case upon the
rug and picked 1t up. He went to bed
with the case under his pillow, and
this was what he dreamed.
He saw Gerald Rathbone in a posi-
tion Of extreme peril and danger. The
circumstances were not defined;
what the actual peril might be was
not revealed. But Megbie knew that
Rathbone was communicating with
his brain while he slept. Rathbone
was living somewhere. He was cap
tive in the hands of enemies, ne was
trying to "get through" to the brain of
some one who could help him.
The journalist slept only a few
short hours. He rose refreshed in
body and with an unalterable convic-
tion in his mind. The events of the
last night were real. No chance or IL
fusion had sent the vision and dream,
and the innocent-lookins cigarette
case that lay upon the table, and
which had come into his hands SO
strangely, was the pivot upon which
strange events had turned.
The little silver thing was surround
ed by as black and i~mpenetrable a
mystery as ever a man had trodden
into unawares.
And in the broad daylight, when all
that was fantastic and unreal was
banished from thought, Megbie knew
quite well toward whom his thoughts
tended, on what remarkable and In
scrutinable personality his dreadful
suspicious had begun to focus them
selves. He sat down and wrote his
article till lunch time. 1t was the
best thing he had ever done, he felt,
as he gathered the loose sheets to-
gether and thrust a paper clip through
the n He rose, and was about
to ring for his man-who had returned
at breakfast time-when the door
opened and the man himself came in.
Miss Marjorie Poole would like to
. you. sir. II you are disengaged."
he said.
Donald Megbie's face grew white
with surprise. Once more he felt the
mysterious chickering's Of the night
before.
ASK Miss Poole to come in" he
said.
CHAPTER XVII.