The daily Alaskan., 1916-09-11

compelling. When the cab reached Greenwich and cabby asked for fur ther instructions the man inside only said, Drive on." Cabby seemed awed by the tone in which the words were spoken and dared not ask another ques- ton, so he drove on in the direction he was going. northward. till he reach ed the river bank. The man inside stepped from the cab without calling on coachy to stop. and when he touch ed the ground there seemed not to be the slightest shock. AS he walked away he fixed his eyes on the cabman with look that made him forget all about the omission to pay the fare. Indeed, a cold chill ran down the mans back. Going to the margin of the river. his figure seemed to float along, growing more and more indiS- tlnct till 1t was lost. as Cabby thought, in the water. But this could not be, for there came from where he had dis appeared a sound of oars. The sound passed up the river. gradually 0ying away in the distance.
 Now, although the stranger had giv- en no orders to the cabman to await his return, the latter felt no power to do otherwise. He did not think that by going away he would lose the mOn- ey he had already earned; he remained fixed where be was by the look his fare had given him when he walked away with that unearthly tread.
 It was the season when the days are long and dawn begins about o'clock. Coachy sat for perhaps an hour, per haps two-he could never recall how long 1t was-waitlng there on the river bank, with no human being near, for he says that he was not conscious of the surrounding traffic Of the present day. He saw about him only the green bank of the river, behind him the village, in which all were wrapped in slumber. But he is not sure that he was awake, not sure but that he was dreaming. At any rate, he was obvious to the strangers return, for the first he knew of 1t be heard a voice ordering him to drive home. Housing himself and looking down from the box, he saw his fares face thrust without the window, looking up at him. The cabman will never forget that face. It was singularly hand some. though so pale as to be rather of the dead than of the living The expression was that of one who had committed some dreadful crime, one who had killed some one. But in it there was no remorSe. It was rather triumph.
 Homer said the stranger.
 The cabman did not know and did not dare ask where home was. He knew that he had taken up his fare on Wall street and for that location he headed.
 In the twilight the city seemed changed All the landmarks of a me tropolis were missing.
 Turning out of Broadway at Wall street, he drove down till he reached the point where Broad joins It. This WAS where he had taken up his fare Here, too, was not the office of the great banking house which Is there but a small brick dwelling. The stranger called on him to stop. and he drove up to the curb
 Coachy says that when thIs singular being alghted he cast his eye at dwelling on the opposite side of Wall street a short distance down toward the East river and looked for 8 mo ment at 1t with malignant triumph; then. turning. without mentioning the money he owed for his ride, he mount ed the steps of a dwelling before him and seemed to pass through the door without opening 1t.
 Coachy was found that morning In a stupor on his box and about to fall he did not emerge for several weeks. When he did so he narrated the adven- ture of that memorable night to a gentleman who happened to be scholar. All the information he re- ceived was this:
 The house the strange man entered was once occupied by Aaron Burr. Alexander Hamilton lived on the oppo. site side of Wall street a little way farther down toward the East river The night of the adventure was the hundredth anniversary of the duel fought between Hamilton and Burr. ln which Hamilton was killed.
 Perhaps the vision came to the cab man as he was entering a severe Ill., ness rather than being the cause of 1t. The singular feature Is that 1t should have come to an illlterate man.