"
He peeped furtively at Brown, who did not appear uneasy.
"All I'm afraid of," added Smith, sullenly, "is that you'll get yourself
into vaudeville or the patrol wagon."
He waited, but Brown made no reply.
"Oh, very well," he said, coldly. "I'll take a cab back to the boat."
No observation from Brown.
"So, _good_-by, old fellow"--with some emotion.
"Good-by," said Beekman Brown, absently.
In fact, he did not even notice when his thoroughly offended partner left
the car, so intent was he in following the subtly thrilling train of
thought which tantalized him, mocked him, led him nowhere, yet always
lured him to fresh endeavor of memory. _Where_ had all this occurred
before? When? What was going to happen next--happen inexorably, as it had
once happened, or as it once should have happened, in some dim, bygone
age when he and that basket and that cat and this same hauntingly lovely
girl existed together on earth--or perhaps upon some planet, swimming far
out beyond the ken of men with telescopes?
He looked at the girl, strove to consider her impersonally, for her
youthful beauty began to disturb him. Then cold doubt crept in; something
of the monstrosity of the proceeding chilled his enthusiasm for occult
research. Should he speak to her?
Certainly, it was a dreadful thing to do--an offense the enormity of
which was utterly inexcusable except under the stress of a purely
impersonal and scientific necessity for investigating a mental phase of
humanity which had always thrilled him with a curiosity most profound.
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