admiration! As
the _barcarolle_ swelled and died away, I felt this conviction growing
within me. I felt certain that so far from demolishing the real mystery,
Mr. Carville had only brought it into focus. We had not seen it before.
And it promised to be a mystery on a higher plane than the rather sordid
affair we had been postulating.

I decided to sleep on my conclusions, however, before broaching the
matter to my friends, and having some work to finish for the morning's
mail, I went back to my desk. For three hours or so I worked steadily,
page after page slipping to the floor as I finished them. My friends did
not disturb me, and when I ascended to the studio for a "crack" before
retiring, I found the big room in darkness. So! I mused and descended. A
brilliant moon threw a dense black shadow in front of the house. The
porch was in gloom, but the street was nearly as bright as day. I stood
on the verandah for a few minutes, filling a pipe and looking across at
the Metropolitan light where it shone serenely on the horizon. As I
struck a match I became aware of a figure moving slowly in front of the
Carville house, up and down the gravel walk that ran below their
verandah. I threw away my match and stepped down into the moonlight,
intending to stroll up and down for a while on the flags of the
sidewalk. I often find that if I retire immediately from a burst of
writing I am unable to sleep for several hours. The pendulum of the mind
should be brought to rest quietly and without shock.

I was not surprised when the figure in the shadow stepped out into the
moonlight as I approached. What startled me was the undoubted
resemblance to myself in figure and mass. We were both small men.
Perhaps there was a shade more shoulder-breadth on his side than mine,
but there was the same slight droop, the same negligible tendency to
stoutness. As I turned the matter over in my mind we came face to face.

"Good evening," we said simultaneously. He waved his pipe, a corn cob,
towards the east. "New York!" he remarked, and we stood side by side for
a moment in silence. The simple observation seemed to me to imply a
susceptibility to the sublimity of the prospect that we had not
discovered to any extent among our other neighbours. To them,
apparently, New York was no more than London is to Hampstead; they had
the suburban sentiment in an acute form. Nevertheless I was somewhat at
a loss to continue our conversation. It seemed foolish to