THE MAN-COVER
name of Guy Fawkes. I hurried home through a torrent of
rain.
A man was pacing my street, muttering strange words
which I could not understand. The rain, which fell heavily,
had apparently not the slightest effect in cooling his heated
brain. As I passed him I spoke:
“What a wretched night!”
The sound of my voice startled him. He seized my arm
and hurried me towards the lamp-post. Then he stared at
me for a long time, and, speaking slowly, hammering every
syllable in my ear, while the rain continued its monotonous
lamentation, he began:
“T should be very much surprised if this were not the
cover I am waiting for. No fallacies will induce me to free
you now that at last I have found you. I was dead; my life
was nothing more than a spring without motion. Every
twenty-one days, according to the calendar, I came, pacing the
lonely streets of this remote spot. For two hours each time
did I wait and wait, longing, eager, nervous, hopeful, hopeless,
desperate, distressed, with gigantic thoughts crowding my
mind. I almost despaired of seeing this moment; at last it
has come. I forgot the duties of art, the call of reason, the
fear of uncertain meetings, the very natural care for the most
precious existence on this planet. But I am well rewarded.
You have come. My globe of transparent crystal had shown
me the truth. You have come, escaping my enemies, and you
are for the time to come at my disposition.”
I thought at first that the man was under the influence of
drink and that it was useless to argue with him. Besides, I
am not very daring with strangers, especially when they speak
357