HOLLOWAY'S COROT. 
He kept repeating little phrases, some of 
which he hardly understood ; words, new 
words that he had come across lately. One 
of them was hypnopompie, a word that means 
the sleep procession, which in its way was as 
irrelevant or as illogical as life itself, lie was 
now in a dream procession. He was the 
dreamer and the dream. Fate dreamt him. 
Suddenly he said to himself, “ Say-it-and- 
mean-it Baker.” Then he laughed. He 
said again, “ Baker of Milwaukee,” and kept 
on repeating “ Baker of Milwaukee.” Then 
suddenly in front of him he saw the gates 
which led down to Holloway’s big house, 
through the avenue planted hundreds of years 
before by a great extinct family. 
This avenue was really the back way to the 
house, which was two hundred yards inside 
the boundary. When Mandeville reached the 
gate he got off his bicycle, opened his tool- 
box, took out his big screw-driver, put it in 
his pocket, and hid his bicycle inside a field 
opposite the gates. Presently he came to 
the garden, after passing through part of 
the field where Holloway had laid out 
miniature golf-links. There was a little gate 
at the first tee, which led into the garden. 
Mandeville went through this gate and closed 
it quietly. He walked straight to the library 
just beyond the big cedar, the room in which 
Holloway kept his greatest treasures. Now 
he noticed there was a little light in one of 
the rooms at the top of the house. Probably 
it was a servant’s room. He paid no atten- 
tion to it, for the lower part of the house was 
quite dark. 
He went to the library window and stood 
for a moment listening. PTe meant to force 
the door with the screw-driver, and took it 
out of his pocket. He laid his hand upon the 
fastening. The moment he touched the door 
it opened of itself; it was not even latched. 
It seemed that fate was helping him. lie had 
made no plans — truly, he had done no thinking 
that night, for what he had been through 
mentally was hardly thought. But now he 
gave himself no time, but went straight across 
the room to the farther end by the side of the 
fireplace. The picture he meant to take hung 
there. He struck a match and saw it. He 
lifted it from the nail and turned towards 
the cabinet where the Dresden china was. 
But at that moment he heard a step outside 
in the hall, and suddenly the door opened. 
He stood where he was. motionless, paralyzed, 
the picture in his hand. 
Time lasted long. It seemed an incredible 
time until the person opening the door really 
entered. The telephone was in the library 
S3 
at the far table near the door. Perhaps some- 
body was coming to use it. They would see 
him. This, then, was ruin, ruin absolute and 
final. Well, if so, what could a man expect 
who had had such luck ? There was a strange 
grin upon his face, bitter, sardonic, lie shifted 
the picture into his left hand and took the 
screw-driver in his right. For one savage 
moment he thought of striking down the 
person who came in. If he was not recog- 
nized he might escape. 
But as soon as the door was opened the 
light from the hall showed that a woman 
came in — a slender, lithe, and girlish figure. 
Instantly she put her hand to the electric 
switch which was close to the door. She 
did not look round towards him ; she went 
straight to the telephone, and the door closed 
automatically. He saw who it was. Yes, yes 
— it was Margery Tlnvaites ! 
Tie had very keen senses. As she had 
rushed into the room she brought in with her 
an odour, faint and yet powerful, far-reaching, 
indicative. His nostrils dilated. He tasted 
the odour in his mind. There was someone 
ill in the house — this was the odour of iodo- 
form. He wondered, and still stood motion- 
less, frozen into rigidity, lie had not known 
that Margery was in the house. She was 
going to telephone for somebody, for some- 
thing, and in a moment would no doubt turn 
and see him. Then she would scream, the 
house would be alarmed. It would be a great 
alarm to her, a terrible shock. She might do 
anything. He could not foretell the result. 
And all the time he smelt the iodoform, and 
wondered who was ill, and whom it was she 
was going to telephone for, and why she was 
going to telephone at all. He watched her. 
She sat down at the table, rang up, put the 
receiver to her ear and was answered. He 
heard the vague, faint voice of the answering 
operator at the exchange at Tbornwell. 
“ I want 156 Thorn Well,” she said, urgently. 
“ Give it me quickly, for Heaven’s sake ! ” 
He knew that the number was Dr. Savage’s. 
In a moment she got through, and asked, 
“ Is that Dr. Savage ? ” 
Again there was the little mumble of the 
answering voice. 
“ Not in ? — not in ? ” said Margery. “ Oh, 
when will he be in ? Can’t you get him ? ” 
Evidently they did not know. She cut 
them off and rang up another number, the 
number of another doctor in Thornwell, and 
again the same answer was returned, and 
Margery cried out aloud. 
“ Oh,” she said, “ isn’t anybody in ? 
Whom shall I ask to come ? ” 
