Part 100 (2/2)

It's Mr. Stirling. Why, sir. What's the matter?”

”I think I've killed her,” said Peter.

”He's awfully screwed,” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the policeman. ”And him of all men!

n.o.body shall know.” He hailed a pa.s.sing cab, and put Peter into it. Then he gave Peter's office address, and also got in. He was fined the next day for being off his beat ”without adequate reasons,” but he never told where he had been. When they reached the building, he helped Peter into the elevator. From there he helped him to his door. He rang the bell, but no answer came. It was past office-hours, and Jenifer having been told that Peter would dine up-town, had departed on his own leave of absence. The policeman had already gone through Peter's pockets to get money for cabby, and now he repeated the operation, taking possession of Peter's keys. He opened the door and, putting him into a deep chair in the study, laid the purse and keys on Peter's desk, writing on a sc.r.a.p of paper with much difficulty: ”mr. stirling $2.50 I took to pay the carriage. John Motty policeman 22 precinct,” he laid it beside the keys and purse. Then he went back to his beat.

And what was Peter doing all this time? Just what he now did. He tried to think, though each eye felt as if a red hot needle was burning in it.

Presently he rose, and began to pace the floor, but he kept stumbling over the desk and chairs. As he stumbled he thought, sometimes to himself, sometimes aloud: ”If I could only think! I can't see. What was it Dr. Pilcere said about her eyes? Or was it my eyes? Did he give me some medicine? I can't remember. And it wouldn't help her. Why can't I think? What is this pain in her head and eyes? Why does everything look so dark, except when those pains go through her head? They feel like flashes of lightning, and then I can see. Why can't I think? Her eyes get in the way. He gave me something to put on them. But I can't give it to her. She told me to go away. To stop this agony! How she suffers.

It's getting worse every moment. I can't remember about the medicine.

There it comes again. Now I know. It's not lightning. It's the petroleum! Be quick, boys. Can't you hear my darling scream? It's terrible. If I could only think. What was it the French doctor said to do, if it came back? No. We want to get some rails.” Peter dashed himself against a window. ”Once more, men, together. Can't you hear her scream? Break down the door!” Peter caught up and hurled a pot of flowers at the window, and the gla.s.s shattered and fell to the floor and street ”If I could see. But it's all dark. Are those lights? No. It's too late. I can't save her from it.”

So he wandered physically and mentally. Wandered till sounds of martial music came up through the broken window. ”Fall in,” cried Peter. ”The Anarchists are after her. It's dynamite, not lightning. Podds, Don't let them hurt her. Save her. Oh! save her I Why can't I get to her? Don't try to hold me,” he cried, as he came in contact with a chair. He caught it up and hurled it across the room, so that it crashed into the picture-frames, smas.h.i.+ng chair and frames into fragments. ”I can't be the one to throw it,” he cried, in an agonized voice. ”She's all I have.

For years I've been so lonely. Don't I can't throw it. It kills me to see her suffer. It wouldn't be so horrible if I hadn't done it myself.

If I didn't love her so. But to blow her up myself. I can't. Men, will you stand by me, and help me to save her?”

The band of music stopped. A moment's silence fell and then up from the street, came the air of: ”Marching through Georgia,” five thousand voices singing:

”Rally round our party, boys; Rally to the blue, And battle for our candidate, So sterling and so true, Fight for honest government, boys, And down the vicious crew; Voting for freedom and Stirling.

”Hurrah, hurrah, for Stirling, brave and strong.

Hurrah, hurrah, for Stirling, never wrong.

And roll the voters up in line, Two hundred thousand strong; Voting for freedom and Stirling.”

”I can't fight so many. Two hundred thousand! I have no sword. I didn't shoot them. No! I only gave the order. It hurt me, but I didn't mean to hurt her. She's all I have. Do you think I intended to kill her? No! No sacrifice would be too great. And you can talk to me of votes! Two hundred thousand votes! I did my best for her. I didn't mean to hurt her. And I went to see the families. I went to see them all. If I only could think. But she is suffering too much. I can't think as long as she lies on the rug, and trembles so. See the flashes of lightning pa.s.s through her head. Don't bury your face in the rug. No wonder it's all dark. Try to think, and then it will be all right.”

Up from the street came the air of: ”There were three crows,” and the words:

”Steven Maguire has schemed to be elected November fourth, Steven Maguire has schemed to be elected November fourth.

Steven Maguire has schemed and schemed, But all his schemes will end in froth!

And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah.

And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah.

”For Peter Stirling elected will be upon November fourth, For Peter Stirling elected will be upon November fourth, For Peter Stirling elected will be And Steven Maguire will be in broth, And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah, And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah.”

”It's Steven Maguire. He never could be honest. If I had him here!”

Peter came in contact with a chair. ”Who's that? Ah! It's you. You've killed her. Now!” And another chair went flying across the room with such force, that the door to the hall flew off its hinges, and fell with a crash. ”I've killed him” screamed Peter. ”I've--No, I've killed my darling. All I have in the world!”

And so he raved, and roamed, and stumbled, and fell; and rose, and roamed, and raved, and stumbled, and fell, while the great torchlight procession sang and cheered him from below.

He was wildly fighting his pain still when two persons, who, after ringing and ringing, had finally been let in by Jenifer's key, stood where the door had been.

”My G.o.d,” cried one, in terror. ”He's crazy! Come away!”

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