Can Such Things Be?

before. One evening a half-dozen men of whom I was one were sitting in the library of the Bohemian Club in San Francisco. The conversatio

hey can do nothing which it is worth one's while to be made a dupe by. The

?" asked another,

visibly and blossom, in bare ground chosen by spectators; putting a man into a wicker basket, piercing him through and through with a sword while he shr

ncivilly, I fear. "You surel

: I have seen

e reporter. "I have so frequently related them that nothing but observat

e of coarse black hair in some disorder, a high nose and eyes that glittered with as soulless an expression as those of a cobra. One of the group rose and introduced him as Dr. Dorrimore, of Calcutta. As each of us was presented in tu

f what he did say. I thought his voice singularly rich and melodious, but it affected me in the sa

he said, "I am

u know which way I am going?" Then I said,

s a full moon and the cool night air was delightful; we walked up the California street hill. I

is told of the Hindu ju

u know tha

. There, almost at our feet, lay the dead body of a man, the face upturned and white in the moonlight! A sword whose hil

during our ascent of the hill my eyes, I thought, had traversed the whole reach of that sidewalk, from street t

man. He was nowhere visible, and with an added terror I retired from the place, down the hill in the direction whence I had come. I had taken but a few strides when a strong grasp upon my shoulder arrested me. I came near crying out with terror: the dead man, the sword still fixed in his breast, stood beside me! Pulling out the sword with his disengaged hand, he flung it from him, the moonlight glinting upon the jewe

l?" I demanded, fiercely enough, tho

to call jugglery," he answe

and I saw him no more until