The Watertown weekly leader. [volume] (Watertown, Jefferson County, Wis.) 1912-1917, 1916-02-29

as Marcel Troyon, Michael LanyaTH
and the Lone Wolf Had any one OF
these names been uttered in his hear
ing just then it would have meant moth
ing-he was merely himself, shell OF
sensations inclosing dull embers of vi
tally.
For several minutes he lay without
moving, curiously intrigued by this
riddle of identity-it was but slowly
that his mind, like blind hand CROP
ing through the arras of darkened
chamber, picked up the filaments of
memory.
But one by one the connections were
renewed, the circuits closed
Singularly enough, in his under
standing, his first thought was { a
girl-still, presumably, asleep upstairs
in the studio, unconsciouslv his pris-
oner and hostage:
For he was no more as he had been.
Wherein the difference lay he couldn't
say, but that a difference existed he
was persuaded-that he had changed,
that some strange reaction in the
chemistry of his nature had taken
place while he slept. 1t was as if sleep
had not only repaired the ravages of
fatigue upon the. tissues of his brain
and body, but had mended the tissues
of his soul as we'll
His thoughts were fluent in fresh
channels, his interests no longer the
interests of the Michael Lanyard he
had known, no longer self-centered, the
interests Of the absolute ego. He was
when he should be most concerned
about himself, than for another, for
the girl Lucia Bannon, who was moth
ing to him, whom he had yet to know
for twenty-four hours, but none the
less woman of whom he could not
cease to think if he would
1t was her situation that perturbed
him, her predicament from which he
sought an outlet-never his own.
Yet his own was desperate enough.
Baffied and uneasy, he at length be-
thought him of his watch But it's tes-
timony seemed ncredible-surely the
hour could not be five in the after
noon! Surely he could not have slept
so close upon full round of the
clock
And if it were so, what of the girl ?
Had she, too, so sorely needed sleep
that the brief November day had
dawned and waned without her knowl-
edge?
That question was one to agitate
him; he was up in an instant and CROP
ing his way through the gloom
enshrouded bedchamber and dining
room to the staircase door in the re-
ception hall. He found this fast
enough, for it's key was safe in his
pocket, and, unlocking it quietly, he
shot the beam of his lamp up that
dark wall to the door at the top, which
was tight shut.
For several moments he listened, but
there was never a sound to indicate
that he wasn't a lonely tenant of the
little dwelling, then irresolutely he
lifted a foot to the first step-and
withdrew it. If she were still asleep
why disturb her? He had much to do
in the way of thinking things out, and
that was a process more easily per.
formed in solitude
Leaving the door ajar, he turned to
one of the front windows, parted its
draperies, and peered out, over the
little garden and through the iron ribs
of the gate, to the street, where a
single gas lamp, glimmering within
dull, golden halo Of mist, made Wis
ible the scant length of the Impasse
Stanislas, empty, rain-swept, desolate
Rain continued to fall with no hint
of stopping.
Something in the dreary emptiness
of that brief vista deepened the shad-
ow in his mood and knitted a careworn
frown into. his brows.
Abstractedly he sought the kitchen
and. making a light, washed up at the
tap, then foraged for breakfast. He
put the kettle on to boil, and. lighting
a cigarette, sat himself down beside
the table to watch the pot and cogi-
tate over his several problems.
In fashion uncommonly clear
headed, even for him, he assembled
all the facts bearing upon their posi-
ton, his and Lucia Bannon's, and dis
passionately pondered them.
But insensibly his thoughts reverted
to the exotic phase of his awakening,
drifting into such introspection as he
seldom INDUCED, and led him by
strange ways to revelation alto
gether unpresaged and resolve still
more revolutionary.
A look of wonder fiickered in his
brooding eyes. and clipped between his
two fingers, his cigarette grew long
ash, let it fall, and burned down to
stump so short that the coal almost
scorched his flesh. He dropped it
and crushed out the fire with his heel
quite unwittingly.
Slowly but irresistibly his world was
turning over beneath his feet.
The sound of football recalled him
as from an unreasonable remove; he
looked up to see the girl at pause upon
the threshold. He rose slowly, with
effort recollecting himself and mar
shaling his wits against the emergency
foreshadowed by her attitude.
Tense with indignation, quick with
disdain, she demanded without any
preface whatever: "Why did you lock
~