But a man cannot forget the training of his youth, the practice of
his adult years, and the support of his middle age in one demonian
hour. As I passed wildly through dim, bilious abysses of filth-laden
atmosphere, though my body was soon lost, and hopelessly lost, in the
fog, my mind became a trifle clearer and the steadfast principles of a
lifetime reasserted themselves. I determined to go on with my shattered
existence; indeed I felt tolerably sure that my fellow-man, who had
kept me thus busily employed, would presently prevent me from carrying
my purpose to its bitter end. I grew a little calmer, recollected the
terms of my wager, and so proceeded with the directions delivered by
the police constable, doubting nothing but that my next meeting with a
human being would divert the catastrophe, and once more set me forward
upon a new road.
Presently a little shop loomed alongside me, and I perceived that here
might be procured an essential in the matter of destruction by hanging.
A mean and humble establishment it was, lighted by one paraffin lamp.
The stock-in-trade apparently consisted of ropes and door-pegs--in
fact, the complete equipment proper to my undertaking. Time and place
agreed. It was indeed just such a gloomy, lonesome, and sequestered
hole as a suicide might select to make his final purchases. From a
door behind the counter there came to me a bald and mournful little
man with weak eyes, a subdued manner, and the facial inanity of the
rabbit. Hints of a fish dinner followed him from his dwelling-room, and
through the door I could catch a glimpse of his family, four in number,
partaking of that meal.
“What might you want?” he asked, but in a despondent tone, implying, to
my ear, that it was rarely his good fortune to have anything in stock a
would-be customer desired to purchase.
“I want a rope to hang a man,” I answered, and waited with some
interest to see the result.
The small shopkeeper’s eyes grew round; a mixture of admiration and
creeping fear lighted them.
“My gracious! You’re _him_, then! To think as ever I should----”
Here he broke off, and in a frenzy of excitement opened the door
behind him and spoke to his wife. I overheard, for he could not
subdue his voice. I think he felt confronted by the supreme business
transaction of his career.
“Jane, Jane! Creep in the shop quiet and look at this here man! By
’Eaven! it’s the public executioner! To think as ever I should sell a
rope to him! Hush!”
He turned, and while he addressed me with dreadful humility, the
woman, Jane, crept into the shop, and stared morbidly upon my harrowed
countenance.