n spirits, "I suppose if this grew hot the
stopper would be blown out, and the spirit would blaze all over the
floor in a moment?"

Stratton's eyes contracted strangely as he nodded and watched his
friend.

"Yes," he said, "that is so."

"And you've got dozens of similar bottles about. Let's see, you've got
something in your bathroom too."

Stratton made no reply, but stood gazing away from his friend.

"Wits wandering again," thought Guest. "Never mind, I did get him a
little more like himself." Then aloud:

"I say, Mal."

Stratton turned upon him sharply.

"Wouldn't do to have a fire; why, you'd burn up poor old Brettison too."

Stratton's face looked as if it had been carved in stone.

"Such a collection, too, as he has spent years of his life in getting
together."

"Come away, now," said Stratton hoarsely, as he raised his hand once
more to turn out the lamp.

"Yes; all right. No; stop!" cried Guest excitedly. Stratton smiled,
and his hand remained as if fixed in the air.

"I have it," continued Guest.

Stratton did not speak, but remained there with his fingers close to the
button of the lamp, as if fixed in that position by his friend's words.

"Look here, old fellow," cried Guest excitedly. "History does repeat
itself."

"What--what do you mean?"

"How long is it since poor old Brettison had that terrible illness?"

"I don't know--years; come away."

"Wait a moment. Well, he was lying helpless, dying, and you suspected
something was wrong, broke open the old man's door, found him
insensible, and nursed him back to life."

Stratton did not stir, but stood bent over the table, listening to his
friend's words.

"Suppose he has come back unknown to you--as he often did--and gone in
there. He is old. He may be lying there now. Mal, old chap, this
place sends quite a chill through me. How do we know but what just on
the other side yonder somebody may be lying dead?" and he pointed toward
the closet door.

"Ah!"

No literary sign can give the exact sound of the hoarse sigh which
escaped from Stratton as his friend said those last words excitedly: and
then, as if spurred by his imagination:

"It's as likely as can be. Mal, old fellow, as I said before, history
does repeat itself. He has been missing a long time. Mrs Brade is
very uneasy. You have been a great deal away. I tell you what it is--
it's an act of duty. I'll fetch up the police, and we'll break in and
see."