n back the night of his escape from the
quicksand--his own footmarks disappearing into the quicksand with no
return steps visible--the prophecy of Saft Tammie about his meeting
himself and perishing in the quicksand--all lent aid to the conviction
that he was in his own person an instance of the doeppleganger. Being
then conscious of a double life he took steps to prove its existence
to his own satisfaction. To this end on one night before going to bed
he wrote his name in chalk on the soles of his shoes. That night he
dreamed of the quicksand, and of his visiting it--dreamed so vividly
that on walking in the grey of the dawn he could not believe that he
had not been there. Arising, without disturbing his wife, he sought
his shoes.

The chalk signatures were undisturbed! He dressed himself and stole
out softly. This time the tide was in, so he crossed the dunes and
struck the shore on the further side of the quicksand. There, oh,
horror of horrors! he saw his own footprints dying into the abyss!

He went home a desperately sad man. It seemed incredible that he, an
elderly commercial man, who had passed a long and uneventful life in
the pursuit of business in the midst of roaring, practical London,
should thus find himself enmeshed in mystery and horror, and that he
should discover that he had two existences. He could not speak of his
trouble even to his own wife, for well he knew that she would at once
require the fullest particulars of that other life--the one which she
did not know; and that she would at the start not only imagine but
charge him with all manner of infidelities on the head of it. And so
his brooding grew deeper and deeper still. One evening--the tide then
going out and the moon being at the full--he was sitting waiting for
dinner when the maid announced that Saft Tammie was making a
disturbance outside because he would not be let in to see him. He was
very indignant, but did not like the maid to think that he had any
fear on the subject, and so told her to bring him in. Tammie entered,
walking more briskly than ever with his head up and a look of vigorous
decision in the eyes that were so generally cast down. As soon as he
entered he said:

'I have come to see ye once again--once again; and there ye sit, still
just like a cockatoo on a pairch. Weel, mon, I forgie ye! Mind ye
that, I forgie ye!' And without a word more he turned and walked out
of the house, leaving the master in speechless indignatio