, 1920-02-05
THE GHOST AT
THE o
By GERTsoN scHAEFFER
(Copyrtght-)

(copyright)
The end of the busy day had come
at last, and H. Miller Virry found h
headache still with him.
All during the rush hours of the day,
as he had watched his assignments and
ideas develop into stories under h
deft work of the reporters, he had
waited for this hour
Away pack there, somewhere, never
quite hidden by h thousands of ideas
that whirled through the streets of his
mind, there had been the n thought
that when the day was over he would
write a letter.
But about the headache-lately it
had never left him. The malady seem
ed to be seated in the very dome of
his head.
Now it was time to write. 1t was
Saturday evening, and he was alone.
A furtive look came into Virry's
eyes. He ever crossed the room and
looked behind a locker door that was
standing open. Somehow 1t did not
seem strange to him that he should do
this. He wanted to be alone.
He walked over to the police report
er's desk. The typewriter there was
the best in the Office. Macdonald al
ways kept his machine clean.
The steady hum that rose from the
sidewalk told him that it was six
o'clock.
The thought Of the letter he would
write came forward and waved away
that other cOnsciousness-that he had
not eaten since breakfast-and he
seated himself at the typewriter
again.
He drummed with his long fingers
contemplatively, looked about the oom
a moment with a nervous glance, n
then began writing, using his index
fingers only, as they write who are
s%elf-taught operators:
1.-THE Town Where You Are Not.
1.-THE Day When I Miss You Most.
1.-THE Girl Whom 1 Love;
IT Don't Know Where.
Sweetheart"
That cracking sound made him
jump again. He began writing:
This letter. sweetheart, will surely
kcDt yObt hO'S " !" % "NNA
trouble to put into 1t that you will
hardly be able to read it. I'm hardly
able to write it."
He jumped from his chair and hur-
ried to the telephone. d.
Hello" he said. Hello hello"
He was annoyed, but courteous. He
listened a moment.
"Why. 1 don't a any number. 1
thought o mi All right. Central"
He returned to his letter:
Sometimes 1 think perhaps you
know all about 1t. Then it seems
~ssenseless for me to wan to write to
you.
"At other times 1t seems as IL you
had forgotten ali about me. Then I
yearn to tell you.
IF you do know. perhaps you a
almost look over my shoulder nov and
see me writing. That wouldn't be
s~enseless, though-would it, milady7
at would be just like talking over
old times that we both Knew all about,
but love to hear each other mention.
If you don't know
He went over to the telephone again.
Hello" he said in his businesslike
manner.
There IA always a note of expect
ancy in Virry's telephone Hello - the
ring of a telephone in a newspaper Of
fee may mean a great sensation.
His left hand was on the top of his
head, where the ache was heaviest.
81 didn't ring" he heard Central
say. A puzzled expression came over
his face, and he went back to the
typewriter.
You would be interested to read
this, I thought.
1--WE been thinking about you every
day. And here It is Saturday night.
Saturday nights 1 am loneliest.
when I first met you, we used to
have our six o'clock Saturday dinners
at the cafes. didn't we? And then I
would take you home.
after n while, / used to come to
your home every Saturday night. You
said you liked that better.
$50 many Saturday nights have
passed since I last saw you"
He smiled. AS he drew away from
the desk the noise of his chair on the
floor and the sound of his footsteps re-
sounded through the room. Long ago
he presses had stopped their vibra-
ton. n the building was deserted
and dark.
His letter had been written slowly,
for II required much thinking-a letter
of hat sort.
Hello" he said as he took down the