strange disappearance
Pierre is aroused from sleep by deep, guttural sounds. He is petrified
at the sight!

Black, uncombed hair in tangled disorder, blood-stains on face, hands,
and bedraggled clothing, brandishing a new long-bladed dagger, stands
Paul, staring into vacancy, incoherently muttering.

Wearied by his long search, despairing of Paul's return, Pierre Lanier
had lain down and slept several hours. His loaded pistols are at hand.
These now are useless. Pierre will not even make show of such defense.
He may not trust his forbearance in this emergency. There is surfeit of
tragic memories. Life's weight is sufficiently heavy without added
burden of child-murder.

Paul continues staring, muttering, and brandishing his gleaming weapon.
Pierre feigns slumber, but from shaded, half-closed eyes intently
watches his son.

An alarm-clock sounds the morning hour of five. Paul starts, shivers,
tiptoes to the door and tries the catch. He furtively looks at the
transom, behind room furniture, and suspended clothing. Peering under
both cots, he shrinks from reflected shadows. Then gazing confidingly at
the paternal face, Paul snuffs out the candle, and with childish
assurance snuggles down on his father's arm.

Hours pass before Pierre Lanier ventures to rise. He hesitates to move
the hunted, distracted head. It seems heartless cruelty to risk
disturbing this wearied child.

Memories of Paul's trusting, boyish faith come to mind. Pierre lives
over again in swift review years of a misspent past. With comprehensive
view of its wasted, perverted chances, the broad compass of desolating
and desolated perspective is horrible.

Insensible of that relaxed weight upon his cramped arm, this guilty
wretch hardly can suppress a groan. There is limit to conscious
endurance. At this point Pierre looks toward the ceiling. Such upward
glance slightly relaxes his tense strain. The relief is suggestive.

Pierre gently strokes Paul's temples, and in low tones says: "In this
begrimed, blood-stained face I behold another boyish image, marred by
paternal influence."

A ray of light steals through the transom, falling athwart that upturned
youthful brow. Pierre smiles almost credulously. How deep that spirit
sigh!

More habitual concern soon is felt. Where is Paul's pearl-handled
dagger? How came he in possession of this new weapon? What mean these
blood-stains and bedraggled clothes? Was tragic pose at time of Pierre's
startled aw