nown to his friends, and from which no one who has
this strange man's peace of mind at heart ever presumes to rouse him.

What was to be done? These moods of their singular host sometimes lasted
half an hour, and Mr. Spielhagen had not the appearance of a man of
patience. Indeed he presently gave proof of the great uneasiness he was
labouring under, for noticing a door standing ajar on the other side of
the room, he remarked to those around him:

"A den! and lighted! Do you see any objection to my shutting myself in
there for a few minutes?"

No one venturing to reply, he rose, and giving a slight push to the
door, disclosed a small room exquisitely panelled and brightly lighted,
but without one article of furniture in it, not even a chair.

"The very place," quoth Mr. Spielhagen, and lifting a light
cane-bottomed chair from the many standing about, he carried it inside
and shut the door behind him.

Several minutes passed during which the man who had served at table
entered with a tray on which were several small glasses evidently
containing some choice liqueur. Finding his master fixed in one of his
strange moods, he set the tray down and, pointing to one of the glasses,
said:

"That is for Mr. Van Broecklyn. It contains his usual quieting powder."
And urging the gentlemen to help themselves, he quietly left the room.
Mr. Upjohn lifted the glass nearest him, and Mr. Cornell seemed about to
do the same when he suddenly reached forward and catching up one farther
off started for the room in which Mr. Spielhagen had so deliberately
secluded himself.

Why he did all this--why, above all things, he should reach across the
tray for a glass instead of taking the one under his hand, he can no
more explain than why he has followed many another unhappy impulse.
Nor did he understand the nervous start given by Mr. Spielhagen at his
entrance, or the stare with which that gentleman took the glass from his
hand and mechanically drank its contents, till he saw how his hand had
stretched itself across the sheet of paper he was reading, in an open
attempt to hide the lines visible between his fingers. Then indeed the
intruder flushed and withdrew in great embarrassment, fully conscious
of his indiscretion but not deeply disturbed till Mr. Van Broecklyn,
suddenly arousing and glancing down at the tray placed very near his
hand remarked in some surprise: "Dobbs seems to have forgotten me." Then
indeed, the unfortunate Mr. Cornel