The Seattle Star Newspaper, July 5, 1913, Page 6

$l the loveliest he had ever looked upon. 4 READ OF BEAUTIFUL GIRL WHO WOKE UP IN HE card game bid fair to ing from his chair with a tossed his cards on the tab! He sauntered across the ha air refreshed him; he stoo away his cigar and stepped his footsteps echoed across t sign that their tenants had of light across the sidewalk As he approached the came, a figure suddenly a@ ‘ord. Hetherford stopped and wheeled short. “|_-I really beg your parddh,” she said, “but I am in such distress. Could I ask you to find me a cab? “A cab!” he repeated uncertainly; “why, yes—I “It is urgent; but there is something else—something more urgent, more dif. ficult for me to ask you. | must go to Willow Brook— And I—I have no money.” ; “Do you mean Willow Brook in Westchester? ” “There is no train at this hour of the morning! “Then—then what am I to do?” she faltered. “I cannot stay another mo- ment in that house.” ‘After a silence: “Are you afraid of anybody in that house?” “There is nobody in the house,” she said with a shudder; “my mother is | in Westchester; all the household are there. I—I came back—a few moments ago—unexpectedly—” She stammered under his scrutiny; the pallor of utter de- | ir came into her cheeks, and she hid her white face in her hands. Hetherford watched her for a moment. “] don’t exactly understand,” he said, gently, “but I'll do anything I can for ag She dropped her arms with a hopeless gesture. “But you say there is no train!” “You could drive to the house of some of your “No, no! Oh, my friends must never know of this!” “I see,” he said gravely. “No, you don’t see,” she said unsteadily. “The truth is that I am almost frightened to death.” “Can you not tell me what has frightened you! : “If I tried to tell you, you would think me mad —you would, indeed “Try,” he said soothingly. “Why—why, it startled me to find myself in this ed you the moment I saw you,” she said impulsively. | laws.’ house,” she began. “You see, | didn’t expect to come here; I didn’t really want to come here,” she added piteously. “Oh, it is simply dreadful to come like this!” “Tell me,” he said in a quiet voice. “Yes—I'll tell you. At first it was dark—but I must have known I was in my own room, for I felt around on the dresser for the matches. And when I saw that it was truly my own room, and when I caught sight of my own face in the mirror, it terrified me—” She pressed her fingers to her cheeks with a shudder. “Then | ran down stairs and lighted the lamp in the hall and peered into the mirror; and 1 saw a face there—a face like my own——” i Pale, voiceless, she leaned on the balustrade, fair head drooping, lids closed. Presently, eyes still closed, she said: “You will not leave me alone here—will you—” Her voice died to a whisper. | “No—of course not,” he replied slowly. “You see,” she murmured, “I dare not be alone; I dare not lose touch with the living. I suppose you! think me mad, but I am not; I am only stunned. Please stay with me.” | “Of course,” he said in a soothing voice. “‘Every-| thing will come out all right——” | “Are you sure?” “Perfectly. 1 don’t quite know what to say— how to reassure you and offer you any help ig He fell silent, worrying his short mustache. The situation was a new one to him. | “Suppose,” he suggested, “that you try to take a little rest. I'll sit down on the steps———”” She looked a him in wide-eyed alarm. “Do you mean that I should go into that house—alone!” “Well—you oughtn’t to stand on the steps all) night” It is y 3 o'clock. You are frightened and | nervous. you must go in and c “Then you must come, too,” she said desperately. “This nightmare is more than I can endure alone. I’m not a coward; none of my race ts. But I need a living being near me. Will you come?” He bowed. She mounted the shadowy steps — a sound; and he followed warily, every sense alert. He was prepared to see the end of this encounter —-see it through to an explanation if it took all sum-| mer. Of the situation, however, and of her, he had) no theory. He was aware that anything might hap- in New York, and, closing the heavy front door, ¢ was ready for it. The hall jets were burning brightly. She asked him to light the sconces in the drawing-room, and he} did 4, curiosity now thoroughly aroused. Slowly he turned to the girl beside him. A warm||, shadow dimmed her delicate features, yet they were es Saturday ai = “THE SIGN OF with the man on his left, yawned, and put on his hat. into the court, refusing the offered cab. The night It was deserted; darkened brownstone mansions stared at him through somber windows as he passed; The doors of many houses were boarded up Strolling at ease, thoughts nowhere, he had traversed half the block, when an opening door and a glimmer girl in a white ball gown hastily descending the —— : stone steps. Light from the doorway tinted her bared arms and shoulders. She bent her graceful head and gazed earnestly at Heth- “] beg your pardon,” she almost whispered; “might I ask you to help m . develop into an all-night seance; the foreign diplomat had shed his coat and | TM ed in Per lighted a fresh cigar; somebody threw a handker- tteee nF if one chief over the face of the clock, and a sleepy club | a iN, | ae ohn seg ate servant took reserve orders for two dozen siphons | Mh | H : | | and other details. | INV) | “That let’s me out,” said young Hetherford, ris- | 4 7p NH} | | nod at the dealer. He le, settled side obligations Ilway and down the stairs d a moment, then tossed out into the street. he pavement. migrated to the country. attracted his attention. » house whence the light ppeared on the stoop-—a e?” | will with pleasure. I must go now, tonight! THE STAR—SATURDAY, JULY 5, rt Story A ROBT. W. CHAMBERS STORY, AND WRITTEN VENUS” IN HIS BEST STYLE | “But how on earth could—” he began, them begged her pardon and waited. She continued serenely: “The night was warm and lovely, and it was clear starlight. When I entered my room I sent the maid away and sat down by the window. The beauty of the night made me restless; 1 went downstairs, slipped out through the garden to the pergola. My hammock hung there, and I lay down in it; looking at the stars.” She drew the ring from her finger, holding it out | for him to see. “The starlight caught the gems on the Sign of d Venus,” she said under her breath; “that was the beginning. And then—I don’t know why—as I lay there idly turning the ring on my finger, | found my- self saying, ‘I must go to New York; I must leave my body here asleep in the hammock and go down to my own room in 58th street.” A curious little chill passed over Hetherford. “I said it again and again—I don’t know why. I remember the ring glittered; | remember it gr brighter and brighter. And then—and then! I| fouli,hs', myself upstairs here in the dark, groping foft matches.” Again that faint chill touched Hetherford. “I was stupefied for a moment,” she said tre ulously; “then I suspected what I had done, and it frightened me. And when I lighted the candle, and saw it was truly my own room—and when I caught sight of my own face in the mirror—terror seized me; it was like a glimpse of something taken unawares. |saw my own face, the face was NOT looking back a’ || me. ‘ “For, do you know that, although in the glass 1501 She dropped her head, crushing the ring i th © ” he asked, astonished. | hands. “i niki dead Tei | “The reflected face was far lovelier than mine; shir || and it was mine, I think, yet it was not looking at me, ¢ i Prove it moved when I did not move. I wonder—I won- | | der—-” pis || The tension was too much. “If that be so,” he | said, steadying his voice—“if you saw a face in your fat |mirror, the face was your own.” He rose impatiently. ° |All that you have told me can be explained,” he said. at “How can it? At this very moment I am asleep ton in my hammock.” i “We will deal with that later,” he said, smiling *i | |\at her. “Where is there a looking-glass?” ‘an ; " \| “There is one in the hallway.”’ She rose, slip- # friends—— | | ping the ring on her finger, and led the way to an ban oval gilt mirror. % “GOOD LORD, IT'S TURNING AWAY FROM U8!” HE SAID. SHE SHRANK AGAINST THE en uae Sette Gan sihenk” he sell quate & | WALL, WIDE-EYED, BREATHING RAPIDLY. ; ; FROM a raised her head and faced the mirror for an Gr 4 Suddenly he understood the mute message of her! went during Lent. I suppose you laugh at that sort “Come here,” she whispered; and he stepped be- fan es: “My imprudence places me at your mercy.” —_ of thing.” |hind her, looking over her shoulder. “Your helplessness places me at yours,” he said “No, I don’t laugh at it. Queer things occur, they | In the glass, as though reflected, he saw her face, aloud, scarcely conscious that he had spoken. say. 1 | know is that I myself have never seen any-|but THE FACE WAS IN PROFILE! ‘ At that a bright flush transfigured her. “I trust-|thing happen that could not be explained by natural A shiver passed over him from head to foot. b : “Did I not tell you?” i ‘Yes: iF “Do you mind sitting there opposite me? I shall take “I have,” she said. See, the other face is Ne whet ok ae — ‘ this chair—rather near you a He bent his head in polite acquiescence. “There’s something wrong about the giass of al She sank into an armchair; and, touched and a She leaned a little nearer, small hands tightly! course,” he muttered; “it’s defective.” . 4 trifle amused, he seated himself. interlaced on her knee. “But who is that in the glass?” She lay there for a minute or two without “The lecture on the Sign of Venus was the last.” | “It is you—your profile. I don’t exactly under- speaking, rounded arms on the gilt arms of the She lifted a white finger, drawing the imaginary stand. GOOD LORD! It’s turning away rad us!” £ chair, eyes thoughtfully studying him. Signum Veneris in the air. She shrank against the wall, wide-eyed, breathe : “I’ve simply got to tell you everything,” she said “The a continued, “ended with 2n| ing rapidly. . . J at length. explanation of the Sign of Venus—how, contemplat- “There is no : . ” “It can do no harm, I think,” he replied pleas-| ing it by starlight, one might pass into that physical un-! said, scarcely hes erg te fry ne en antly. consciousness which leaves the mind free to control | street, New York.” He forced a dentla. im ‘ “No; no harm. The harm has been done. Yet, | the soul!” ; | “Don't be frightened; there’s an explanation for with you sitting there so near me, | am not frightened She held out her left hand. On a stretched finger this. You are not asleep in Westchester; you are here fo now. It is curious,” she mused, “that I should feel! a ring glistened, mounted with the Sign of Venus blaz-|in your own house. You mustn’t tremble so. Give no apprehension now. And yet—and yet She paused. Th ing in brilliants. “] had this made specially,” she said; “not that I) me your hand a moment.” She laid her hand in his obediently; it shook like en: “Tell me, did you ever hear of the Sign of Venus? |had any particular desire to test it—no curiosity. Ita leaf. He held it firmly, touching the fluttering —the Signum Veneris?” “The distinguished gentleman who occupies the chair of Applied Psychics at the university lectures on the Sign of Venus, I believe.” never occurred to me that here in New York one could | pulse. “I’ve heard of it—yes,” he replied, surprised. | —could———’ “What?” asked Hetherford dryly. “__could leave one’s own body at will.” She lifted her eyes to him calmly, and the direct . “You are certainly no spirit,” he said, smiling; | “your hand is warm and yielding. Ghosts don’t have | hands like that, you know.” Her fingers lay in his, quite passive now, but the “Did you attend the lectures?” she asked calmly. beauty of her gaze disturbed him. Then she said: | pulse quickened. He said he had not. | “Listen to me. Last night they gave a dance at| “The explanation of it all is this,” he said: “Y “I did.” \the Willow Brook Hunt. It was nearly 2 o'clock this) have had a temporary suspension "of chika vie, “They were probably amusing,” he ventured. |morning when I left the clubhouse and started home during which time you, without being Prieta of sal “Not very. Psychic phenomena bored me; I! across the lawn with my mother and the maid Our Next Saturday Short Story for Summer Is “A HARLEM TRAGEDY” “WHAT IS A’ BLACK-EYE WORTH TO A LADY?” This is the delicate question upon which the great O. Henry dilates in “A HARLEM TRAGEDY,” the next tale we will print in the superlative series of short stories we are presenting during the summer. This tale, in which Mrs. Cassidy tells Mrs. Fink how an eye, blackened by a spouse, is worth exactly two tickets to the matinee, plus a perfectly good silk shirtwaist, will appear in The Star Saturday, July 12. It will’ be illustrated by the famous American artist, Dan Sayre Groesbeck. A REAL- STORY OF REAL NEW YORK FOLKS! WRITTEN BY A REAL AUTHOR! ILLUSTRATED BY A REAL ARTIST! SATURDAY! IN THE STAR. ” : lyou were doing, came to town from Willow Broo! | You believe you went to the dance at the Hunt Clul “only—only I wonder how I can get back. I've tried to fix my mind on my ring—on the Sign of Venus—I cannot seem to—” “But that’s nonsense,” he protested cheerfully. “That ring has nothing to do with the matter.” “But it brought me here! Truly I am asleep in my hammock. Won't you believe it?” “No; and you mustn’t, either,” he said impatient- ly. “Why, just now I explained to you—”: “I know,” she said, looking down at the ring on her hand; “but you are wrong—truly you are.” | “I am not wrong,” he said, laughing. “It was |shake it off at once.” ror?” (To Be Concluded Monday.) but probably you did not. Instead, during a lapse of "00 pe inde: ‘rect Faapen he “of consciousness, you went to the station, came straight £°%."j |to your own house—” He hesitated. ors whd | “Yes,” she said, “I have a key to the door. H it is.” She drew it from the bosom of her gown; he took it triumphantly. | “You simply awoke to consciousness while you ‘nie were groping for the matches. That is all there is to x it; and you need not be frightened at all!” he an- &* nounced. wa “No, not frightened,” she said, shaking her head; aie oh rm tata | only a dream—the dance, the hammock—these were fend 5 |parts of the dream so intensely real that you cannolers: “Then—then who was that we saw in the mig DEK iat Fu