About two weeks after Hiram's interview with Dr. Ephraim Peters, he had
occasion to spend a long evening in company with certain influential
members (of which he, of course, was the most influential) of St.
Jude's.
It was past eleven o'clock when the meeting broke up. It was a clear,
cold, December night, and Hiram buttoned his coat quite to his chin as
he descended the steps to commence his walk home. Some had carriages in
waiting; but he, fully alive to his brother's advice, preferred to go on
foot. One gentleman kept him company for a couple of blocks; after that,
he proceeded alone.
As he passed the corner of a street which ran at right angles to the one
he was pursuing, a man came suddenly upon him, and, standing square in
his path, demanded in a savage tone, 'Do you want your wood split?'
Hiram turned quickly aside, to avoid the questioner; but he had time to
observe that he was an athletic man, with a limping gait, and a fierce,
demoniacal countenance. He carried in his hand something like a
butcher's cleaver; and before Hiram could escape, he repeated the
question: 'Do you want your wood split?'
Hiram uttered a hasty 'No,' in response, and walked swiftly forward.
The stranger was not to be so easily disposed of. He put himself before
the millionnaire a second time, and repeated his question.
Hiram Meeker was not a coward--that is, so far as his brain served him;
and we all know he had enough of that.
Finding he was not to get rid of the unknown so readily, he stopped and
regarded him with careful scrutiny.
The other repeated his question still again: 'Do you want your wood
split?'
Hiram was not slow to perceive that the man was insane, and he
endeavored to humor him.
'Yes,' he said, 'I want my wood split very much indeed. It is too late
to-night; but come to my house to-morrow, and you shall have the job.'
'Oh, no, no, no!' cried the other, 'I work only by night--only by
night--and I cannot go to your house--you must come to mine!'
He laid hold of Hiram's arm with a tenacious grasp.
'I must first go home,' said Hiram, calmly, 'and send my wood round for
you to split.'
'Not so, not so,' retorted the maniac. 'It has already been sent. Come
and see!'--and he began pulling at Hiram's arm--not with ferocity, but
with a doggedness almost worse.
Hiram looked up and down the street. Not a soul was visible. The
creature who stopped his way was a powerful man--was armed with a deadly
weapon--was mad.
Hiram came swiftly to a conclusion. He would appear to yield, and in the
walk he was about to take it was almost a certainty that they would
encounter some one. So he replied, in a good-natured manner: 'Well, if
the wood has been sent to you, we had better go and have it split at
once.'
'That's the talk--that's the talk! But we must hurry. Come on--come
quick, and you will see how I will do it up.'
He did not relax his hold of Hiram's arm. The two walked rapidly
forward--much more rapidly than Hiram desired; but the crazy man kept
exclaiming: 'We must make haste, I promised _him_ I would not leave the
room. No more would I; but you see, if I can earn the money, I am all
right--all right--all right!'
'How much have _you_ got?' he asked, stopping abruptly, and turning
suddenly on Hiram.
'I have got ever so much. Now I think of it, suppose I pay you on the
spot, so that you can go ahead and split the wood? It is getting late,
you see.'
'That won't do--that won't do. I want _him_ to have the money!
Come--come along, and give it to him.'
On they pressed, till at length the man exclaimed: 'Here we are! Don't
you perceive?'
He had stopped before an old and very common-looking house. In the
second story one could see a light burning. The madman motioned Hiram to
enter. The millionnaire was glad to discover that he was so near the end
of his journey, and in a perfectly respectable neighborhood. Not
doubting that he would find the apartment occupied, and quite sure there
were inhabitants in the other part of the house, he proceeded to mount
the stairs with alacrity, his companion following close at his heels.
It was with a sense of quiet relief that Hiram opened the door into a
well-lighted room. This feeling was suddenly changed to one of horror on
ascertaining that there was no one in the apartment, but that on a bed
at the farther end of it was extended the corpse of a woman, already
laid out and ready for the coffin! He stepped quickly backward, but it
was too late. The madman was close behind him, and egress was out of the
question.
'Come,' he said, 'you need not be afraid; she won't hurt you.'
The poor creature walked to the bedside, and it seemed as if sanity was
vainly struggling to regain its place.
'Come closer,' he exclaimed to Hiram, who was standing near him.
Hiram advanced at the word of command, and the other again took his arm;
and both stood very still, looking at the dead woman.
'Had we better wake her, think you?'
Hiram shook his head.
'You are right. I must first earn the money--earn the money. Then--then
I will wake her. Yes, then I will wake her.'
'Is it your wife?' demanded Hiram, timidly, impelled by an irresistible
impulse to ask the question.
'Wife!' shouted the other, glaring on Hiram--'wife! who talks to me
about wife? Do you? Say quick!--do you?'--and he raised the cleaver in a
menacing manner.
'It was not I,' said Hiram, with as much calmness as he could command,
while he looked at the other fixedly--'it was not I.'
'Glad to hear you say so. If it had been, I would have made kindling
wood of you--yes, kindling wood of you!--That's all got along with,' he
added, lowering the cleaver. 'Now take a seat.'
The madman sat down on one side of a small table, and motioned Hiram to
occupy the chair opposite.
He did so.
'Now we are comfortable. Don't you think so? Shan't have to move, shall
we? Old Meeker, d----n his soul!--don't own this house. Come, let's have
a gay old time!'--and he commenced, half shouting, half singing:
'Ain't I glad to get out of the wilderness--
To get out of the wilderness,
To get out of the wilderness?--
Ain't I glad to get out of the wilderness?
Hip, hip, hurrah!'
Hiram sat pale, but not trembling. He knew his very life depended on his
composure, and he believed that the noise which the madman was making
would soon bring persons to the spot.
'You don't seem to like my little song,' he exclaimed, 'I will give you
another.' And he shouted on:
'I wish I was a horse, as big as any elephant--
As big as any elephant,
As big as any elephant--
I wish I was a horse, as big as any elephant--
Hip, hip, hurrah!'
'That's better, ain't it?' Suddenly he turned and looked at the corpse.
'Wife--wife! who said 'wife' to me?--who said 'wife' to me?' And he
burst forth more furiously than ever:
'My wife's dead, and I want another one--
And I want another one,
And I want another one--
My wife's dead, and I want another one--
Hip, hip, hurrah!'
The man had now become so much excited, that he commenced walking
rapidly around the room, brandishing his weapon in a most reckless
manner.
Hiram's situation was becoming critical. He did not lose his
self-possession, but began to balance the chances of attempting to
escape by moving swiftly to the door, against keeping his seat and
closely watching the maniac.
As if divining what was passing in his mind, the madman suddenly placed
his back to the door, as if to bar any egress, and commenced singing
again.
Relief came at last.
Hiram, whose every sense was on the alert, thought he saw the knob of
the door turn. He was not mistaken; for now it commenced partially to
open.
The maniac, feeling the pressure, turned about, leaving the entrance
free--and Dr. Ephraim Peters entered.
He seemed to take in matters at a glance. Addressing the madman in a
calm but commanding tone, he said: 'How is it that you have disobeyed
me? I shall not trust you again. Sit down.'
The effect was electrical. An entire change came over the countenance
and bearing of the maniac; he dropped the cleaver, and, passing to the
other side of the room, took a seat in close proximity to the corpse.
Then turning, the young doctor addressed Hiram: 'Is your presence here
forced or voluntary?'
'Purely accidental.'
'I supposed so. A word with you outside.'
To Hiram this was a joyful summons, and he responded with alacrity.
As they went out, the doctor closed the door, and the two stood together
in the gloomy hall at the top of the staircase.
'Mr. Meeker, you recognize me, doubtless?'
There was no reply.
'I am Dr. Peters, who called to see you about two weeks ago, on behalf
of a poor woman whose dead body is now in that room. I told you, if she
had to be moved, it would kill her. Your agent drove her out, and she
lies here dead! It has made her husband crazy--a temporary lunacy, I
trust--but, whatever it is, there you see the whole.
'I am expecting some persons every moment,' he continued, 'who will
remain here all night, and I will detain you no longer.'
The doctor spoke in such a tone of quiet dignity, that it was impossible
for Hiram to reply. He fumbled for a moment in his coat, and then drew
out his pocket book. Producing several bills, he offered them to the
doctor, muttering half inaudibly something about his desire to pay
funeral expenses.
The young physician drew back, as if in danger of contamination.
'Your money perish with you!' he said, solemnly. 'Think you charity
consists in bank notes?'
The doctor turned and reëntered the chamber; and Hiram Meeker proceeded
slowly down the stairs and into the street.
His thoughts, as he walked homeward, were not of an enviable nature. I
confess I have no desire to attempt to portray them.