Double Trouble

, Ludovico! Our

as fairly lam

land, based, 'tis

h waving palms,

light, as hold

lling finger!

your cue

And all

to my lips, a

and mind. I tel

thine is one

n, trusting the

pped with fire b

pice roars the

touch is death;

s whereon its

ined with gins;

ld I speak with

hibboleth! Mos

offer bids me

none

n of C

ng porter. "Will you go to the Calumet House, as usual, su

though he did not look it, "and wil

ow you make it yo'

idon; "of course. Where's

aos. On the way, he stopped the cab several times to buy papers. All showed the fatal date. He arrived at the palatial hotel in a cab filled with papers, from which his bewildered countenance peere

in a manner eloquent of delighted re

nk so," sai

egister around, and poi

re, Mr. Br

d midway in the downwar

present. Let me have checks for my luggage, p

is entirely at your service, always, you know.

felt that he must seek solitude. To be called by this new and strange name; to have thrust on him the acting of a part in which he knew none of the lines and dared not refuse the character; and all these circumstances made dark and siniste

l take the r

calls?" quer

ng up the telegrams. "I do not wis

on earth, these thoughts running in a bewildering circle through his mind. The dates of the papers-might they not have been changed by some silly trick of new journalism, some straining for effect, like the agreement of all the people in the world (as fancied by Doctor Holmes) to say "Boo!" all at once to the moon? He ran his eyes over the news columns and found them full of matter which was real news, indeed

st he had yielded to that feeling, and started up, afraid to sleep. He saw lying on the table the unopened telegrams, and tore them open. Some referred to sales of oil, an

; another contained the tabulated pedigree of a horse owned in Kentucky. A very brief one was in the same handwriting as the missive he had first read, was signed "E. W.

trict integrity who had so well managed the Hazelhurst Bank, into the monster who had robbed Eugene Brassfield of-his clothes, his property, the most dearly personal of his possessions-these, certainly (for Amidon knew the rule of evidence which brands as a thief the possessor of stolen goods); and who could tell of what else? Letters, bags, purses, money-these any vulgar criminal might have, and bear no deeper guilt than that of theft; but, the clothes! Mr. Amidon shuddered as his logic carried him on from deduction to reduction-to murder, and the ghastly putting away of murder's fruit. Imagination threw its limelight over the horrid sc

he could not long remain in this room; his very retirement-any extraordinary behavior (and how did he know Brassfield's ordinary courses?)-would soon advertise his presence. Amidon walked to the window and peered down into the street. His eyes traveled to the opposite windows, and finally in the blind stare of absent-mindedness became fixed on a gold-and-black sign which he began stupidly spelling out, over and over. "Ma

multiplying lights of an early winter's dusk-so numbly had the time slipped by. And in the gruesome close of this dreadful day, the d