"
"Why?" asked Glad, with
passionately intent eyes; "why?"
"Because I was worn out and done
for, and all the world seemed worn
out and done for. And among other
things I believed I was beginning
slowly to go mad."
From the thief there burst forth a
low groan and he turned his face to
the wall.
"I've been there," he said; "I 'm
near there now."
Dart took up speech again.
"There was no answer--none.
As I stood waiting--God knows for
what--the dead stillness of the room
was like the dead stillness of the grave.
And I went out saying to my soul,
`This is what happens to the fool
who cries aloud in his pain.' "
"I've cried aloud," said the thief,
"and sometimes it seemed as if an
answer was coming--but I always
knew it never would!" in a tortured
voice.
" 'T ain't fair to arst that wye,"
Glad put in with shrewd logic.
"Miss Montaubyn she allers knows
it WILL come--an' it does."
"Something--not myself--turned
my feet toward this place," said Dart.
"I was thrust from one thing to
another. I was forced to see and hear
things close at hand. It has been as
if I was under a spell. The woman
in the room below--the woman lying
dead!" He stopped a second, and
then went on: "There is too much
that is crying out aloud. A man such
as I am--it has FORCED itself upon me
--cannot leave such things and give
himself to the dust. I cannot explain
clearly because I am not thinking as
I am accustomed to think.
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