The enterprise. [volume] (Harlem, Mont.) 1899-1926, 1908-09-09
THE MAN WHO
DID THINGS TWICE
Copyright, by shortstory Pub. Co..
Bv DON MARK LEMON

OF commanding figure and soldierly
bearing, with deep-set eyes, hollow, ca
daverous cheeks, and mustache and
hair an intense blue black, his singu-
lar personality alone had anywhere
and at all times attracted special atten-
ton to the man; but coupled with this
distinguished personality, and sin.
Cling him out as remarkable in the
highest degree, was the fact that he
lived in duplicate.
Thus-if on Monday he arose early,
breakfasted on coffee, toast and eggs,
afterwards retired to his rooms to
occupy himself until noon at his desk;
then, after partaking of lunch, quit his
rooms to ramble about the city, giving
aims to the old blind organ woman,
going up and down particular streets
and through particular quarters, thence
back to his hotel, to his dinner, to his
desk after dinner, and finally to bed
on Tuesday he would go through
precisely the same regime.
On Wednesday he perhaps would
spend the day quite differently, arising
entire day, attending the theater at
night, and to bed at midnight or later;
but howsoever he spent Wednesday,
Thursday-or the day following-was
sure to be repetition down to the
smallest detail.
Friday would see commenced a new
series of action for Saturday to dupli-
cate.
He was the echo-as it were-of
himself, and cOnsummate echo at
that, for time and time again he had
been watched to see whether he would
not make some mistake or fail in his
series of duplication, but whenever it
was possible for an act to be dupli-
Gated he never had been known to fail
in it's duplication; and, indeed, he
had grown so shrewd in the matter
that he never did on one day what
could not reasonably be duplicated
upon the neXt-if that succeeding day
was to be duplication Of the pre-
ceding one, and not the beginning of a
new series of action.
Living his own life in his own re.
served way, cultured and studious,
troubling no one, offending none;
doubly liberal in his expenditures and
never pressed for means, steadfast in
his chosen eccentricity-if such it were
and in his face and manner no ques-
tioning doubt of himself, perhaps in
time Henry Hobart had been accepted
like any other man, the curious had
ceased to be curious, and his mysteri-
GUS character, without any further or
deeper scrutiny, had become one of the
mysteries of human life, had not the
man been suddenly struck down as by
an invisible hand and the appalling
mystery of his death heightened ten.
fold the mystery of his life.
On a Tuesday morning, at Is min.
utes of ten o'clock, an attendant was
summoned by the call-bell to room
63 of the Sumner house, and upon
obeying the call found Henry Hobart
struggling in the throes of strange
and unnatural death.
The Man Who Did Things Twice,
half dressed, standing in the center
of his outer room, was battling with
the invisible air about him for breath,
or, as the attendant put it later, Like
he was fightin' with something that
weren't there"
The hotel was aroused, DR.. Thiel
was hastily summoned from his office
on the next floor, and everything was
done that science could suggest or
despair persuade, yet in less than ten
minutes Henry Hobart lay dead on the
floor, within his stilled brain hidden
the profound mystery of his life, and
still echoing in the death room his
one strangled cry ere death sealed his
blue lips-"TO-mOrroW!"
1t was strange case, questionable
case. frightful case, but beyond all
it proved battling case, for the police
came, removed the body to the morgue,
intimating death by poison or other
foul play, and examined the rooms and
overhauled the possessions of the dead
man, but who the deceased was, who
his kindred or what his former resi-.
dence, or the cause of his death. thew
could not discover. The scholarly tones
that filled his shelves bore no sigma
lures or bOOkmarks, and private pa
pSio VI any hiuu lHSIc were none. Inc
autopsy made the same day-after-
noon--upon the body of the deceased
failed to discover any poison, and DR..
Thiel's belief that the man had been
strangled seemed without support, as
no foreign substance or growth of any
kind was found in the windpipe or air
passages.
One thing only seemed certain, one
thing only was undisputed-The Man
Who Did Things Twice, with severed
windpipe and autopsy-marred body,
would not duplicate his own death
upon the morrow. He had come to his
death on a Tuesday, Tuesday with
whitehead he lived-he would have
begun new course of action to be
duplicated on Wednesday. But he had
died, and now for once The Man Who
Did Things Twice would fail in his &C.
centricity. Perhaps for that his spirit
would be troubled.
Next morning, while the attendant
who had been first on the death scene
of the previous day was holding forth
at length on the tragedy with certain
servant-cronies, the call-bell suddenly
rang and the hand of the call dial
spin around aAD pointed to number 63.