htest cognizance of Jesse Holmes. And then I knew that
for some reason the veil had been lifted for me alone, and that I had
been elected to save my friend from destruction at the Fool-Killer's
hands. Something of the fear and wonder of it must have showed itself
in my face.

"Excuse me," said Kerner, with his wan, amiable smile; "was I talking
to myself? I think it is getting to be a habit with me."

The Fool-Killer turned and walked out of Farroni's.

"Wait here for me," said I, rising; "I must speak to that man. Had
you no answer for him? Because you are a fool must you die like a
mouse under his foot? Could you not utter one squeak in your own
defence?

"You are drunk," said Kerner, heartlessly. "No one addressed me."

"The destroyer of your mind," said I, "stood above you just now and
marked you for his victim. You are not blind or deaf."

"I recognized no such person," said Kerner. "I have seen no one
but you at this table. Sit down. Hereafter you shall have no more
absinthe drips."

"Wait here," said I, furious; "if you don't care for your own life, I
will save it for you."

I hurried out and overtook the man in gray half-way down the block.
He looked as I had seen him in my fancy a thousand times--truculent,
gray and awful. He walked with the white oak staff, and but for the
street-sprinkler the dust would have been flying under his tread.

I caught him by the sleeve and steered him to a dark angle of a
building. I knew he was a myth, and I did not want a cop to see me
conversing with vacancy, for I might land in Bellevue minus my silver
matchbox and diamond ring.

"Jesse Holmes," said I, facing him with apparent bravery, "I know
you. I have heard of you all my life. I know now what a scourge
you have been to your country. Instead of killing fools you have
been murdering the youth and genius that are necessary to make a
people live and grow great. You are a fool yourself, Holmes; you
began killing off the brightest and best of our countrymen three
generations ago, when the old and obsolete standards of society and
honor and orthodoxy were narrow and bigoted. You proved that when you
put your murderous mark upon my friend Kerner--the wisest chap I ever
knew in my life."

The Fool-Killer looked at me grimly and closely.

"You've a queer jag," said he, curiously. "Oh, yes; I see who you
are now. You were sitting with him at the table. Well, if I'm not
mistaken, I heard you call him a fool, too."