The Comet

24 min

He stood a moment on the steps of the bank, watching the human river that swirled down Broadway. Few noticed him. Few ever noticed him save in a way that stung. He was outside the world—"nothing!" as he said bitterly. Bits of the words of the walkers came to him.

He stood for a moment on the bank steps, watching the river of people flowing down Broadway. Few noticed him. Those who did usually noticed him in a way that hurt. He was outside the world, "nothing!" as he said bitterly. He caught bits of what the people walking by were saying.

"The comet?"

"The comet——"

"The comet..."

Everybody was talking of it. Even the president, as he entered, smiled patronizingly at him, and asked:

Everybody was talking about it. Even the president smiled condescendingly at him as he entered and asked:

"Well, Jim, are you scared?"

"No," said the messenger shortly.

"No," the messenger said curtly.

"I thought we'd journeyed through the comet's tail once," broke in the junior clerk affably.

"I thought we'd traveled through the comet's tail once," the junior clerk said, interrupting in a friendly way.

"Oh, that was Halley's," said the president; "this is a new comet, quite a stranger, they say—wonderful, wonderful! I saw it last night. Oh, by the way, Jim," turning again to the messenger, "I want you to go down into the lower vaults today."

"Oh, that was Halley's comet," said the president. "This is a new comet, a complete stranger, they say. Wonderful, wonderful! I saw it last night." He turned back to the messenger. "Oh, by the way, Jim, I want you to go down into the lower vaults today."

The messenger followed the president silently. Of course, they wanted him to go down to the lower vaults. It was too dangerous for more valuable men. He smiled grimly and listened.

The messenger followed the president in silence. Of course, they wanted him to go down to the lower vaults. It was too dangerous for more valuable men. He smiled grimly and listened.

"Everything of value has been moved out since the water began to seep in," said the president; "but we miss two volumes of old records. Suppose you nose around down there,—it isn't very pleasant, I suppose."

"Everything of value has been moved out since the water began to seep in," said the president. "But we can't find two volumes of old records. Why don't you look around down there? I suppose it isn't very pleasant."

"Not very," said the messenger, as he walked out.

"Not very," said the messenger as he walked out.

"Well, Jim, the tail of the new comet hits us at noon this time," said the vault clerk, as he passed over the keys; but the messenger passed silently down the stairs. Down he went beneath Broadway, where the dim light filtered through the feet of hurrying men; down to the dark basement beneath; down into the blackness and silence beneath that lowest cavern. Here with his dark lantern he groped in the bowels of the earth, under the world.

"Well, Jim, the tail of the new comet hits us at noon this time," said the vault clerk, handing over the keys. But the messenger went silently down the stairs. He went down beneath Broadway, where dim light filtered through the feet of hurrying men. He went down to the dark basement below. Then he descended into the blackness and silence beneath that lowest cavern. There, with his dark lantern, he felt his way through the depths of the earth, under the world.

He drew a long breath as he threw back the last great iron door and stepped into the fetid slime within. Here at last was peace, and he groped moodily forward. A great rat leaped past him and cobwebs crept across his face. He felt carefully around the room, shelf by shelf, on the muddied floor, and in crevice and corner. Nothing. Then he went back to the far end, where somehow the wall felt different. He sounded and pushed and pried. Nothing. He started away. Then something brought him back. He was sounding and working again when suddenly the whole black wall swung as on mighty hinges, and blackness yawned beyond. He peered in; it was evidently a secret vault—some hiding place of the old bank unknown in newer times. He entered hesitatingly. It was a long, narrow room with shelves, and at the far end, an old iron chest. On a high shelf lay the two missing volumes of records, and others. He put them carefully aside and stepped to the chest. It was old, strong, and rusty. He looked at the vast and old-fashioned lock and flashed his light on the hinges. They were deeply incrusted with rust. Looking about, he found a bit of iron and began to pry. The rust had eaten a hundred years, and it had gone deep. Slowly, wearily, the old lid lifted, and with a last, low groan lay bare its treasure—and he saw the dull sheen of gold!

He took a deep breath as he pulled open the last great iron door and stepped into the foul slime inside. At last, there was peace here, and he felt his way forward, lost in gloomy thoughts. A huge rat leaped past him, and cobwebs brushed his face. He searched the room carefully, shelf by shelf, then searched the muddy floor, every crack, and every corner. Nothing. Then he went back to the far end, where the wall somehow felt different. He tapped it, pushed it, and tried to pry it open. Nothing. He started to leave. Then something drew him back. He was tapping and working at the wall again when suddenly the whole black wall swung open on what seemed like massive hinges. Beyond it was a gaping darkness. He peered in. It was clearly a secret vault, a hiding place from the old bank that no one knew about in recent times. He entered hesitantly. It was a long, narrow room with shelves and an old iron chest at the far end. The two missing volumes of records lay on a high shelf, along with others. He set them carefully aside and went to the chest. It was old, sturdy, and rusty. He examined the huge, old-fashioned lock and shone his light on the hinges. They were thickly coated with rust. He looked around, found a piece of iron, and began to pry. A hundred years of rust had eaten deep into the metal. Slowly, with effort, he lifted the old lid. With one last low groan, it opened to reveal its treasure. He saw the dull shine of gold!

"Boom!"

A low, grinding, reverberating crash struck upon his ear. He started up and looked about. All was black and still. He groped for his light and swung it about him. Then he knew! The great stone door had swung to. He forgot the gold and looked death squarely in the face. Then with a sigh he went methodically to work. The cold sweat stood on his forehead; but he searched, pounded, pushed, and worked until after what seemed endless hours his hand struck a cold bit of metal and the great door swung again harshly on its hinges, and then, striking against something soft and heavy, stopped. He had just room to squeeze through. There lay the body of the vault clerk, cold and stiff. He stared at it, and then felt sick and nauseated. The air seemed unaccountably foul, with a strong, peculiar odor. He stepped forward, clutched at the air, and fell fainting across the corpse.

A low, grinding crash echoed in his ears. He sprang up and looked around. Everything was dark and still. He felt for his light and swung it around him. Then he understood! The great stone door had swung shut. He forgot the gold and faced death squarely. With a sigh, he set to work methodically. Cold sweat covered his forehead, but he searched, pounded, pushed, and worked. After what seemed like endless hours, his hand struck a cold piece of metal. The great door swung open again with a harsh sound. Then it struck something soft and heavy and stopped. He had just enough room to squeeze through. The vault clerk’s body lay there, cold and stiff. He stared at the body and felt sick and nauseated. For some reason, the air smelled foul, with a strong, strange odor. He stepped forward, reached out into the air, and fainted, falling across the corpse.

He awoke with a sense of horror, leaped from the body, and groped up the stairs, calling to the guard. The watchman sat as if asleep, with the gate swinging free. With one glance at him the messenger hurried up to the sub-vault. In vain he called to the guards. His voice echoed and re-echoed weirdly. Up into the great basement he rushed. Here another guard lay prostrate on his face, cold and still. A fear arose in the messenger's heart. He dashed up to the cellar floor, up into the bank. The stillness of death lay everywhere and everywhere bowed, bent, and stretched the silent forms of men. The messenger paused and glanced about. He was not a man easily moved; but the sight was appalling! "Robbery and murder," he whispered slowly to himself as he saw the twisted, oozing mouth of the president where he lay half-buried on his desk. Then a new thought seized him: If they found him here alone—with all this money and all these dead men—what would his life be worth? He glanced about, tiptoed cautiously to a side door, and again looked behind. Quietly he turned the latch and stepped out into Wall Street.

He woke with a sense of horror, leaped away from the body, and felt his way up the stairs, calling to the guard. The watchman sat as if asleep, with the gate swinging open. The messenger glanced at him and hurried up to the sub-vault. He called to the guards, but got no answer. His voice echoed again and again, strangely. He rushed up into the great basement. There, another guard lay face down, cold and still. Fear rose in the messenger's heart. He raced up to the cellar floor, then up into the bank. The stillness of death was everywhere. Everywhere, men's silent bodies lay hunched, bent, or stretched out. The messenger stopped and looked around. He was not easily shaken, but the sight was horrifying! "Robbery and murder," he whispered slowly to himself. He saw the president lying half-buried on his desk, his mouth twisted and oozing. Then a new thought seized him. If they found him here alone, with all this money and all these dead men, what would his life be worth? He looked around, tiptoed cautiously to a side door, and looked behind him again. Quietly, he turned the latch and stepped out into Wall Street.

How silent the street was! Not a soul was stirring, and yet it was high-noon—Wall Street? Broadway? He glanced almost wildly up and down, then across the street, and as he looked, a sickening horror froze in his limbs. With a choking cry of utter fright he lunged, leaned giddily against the cold building, and stared helplessly at the sight.

How silent the street was! Not a soul was moving, yet it was noon. Wall Street? Broadway? He looked up and down the street, almost wildly, then looked across it. As he looked, a sickening horror froze his limbs. With a choked cry of pure terror, he lunged forward and leaned dizzily against the cold building. He stared helplessly at the sight.

In the great stone doorway a hundred men and women and children lay crushed and twisted and jammed, forced into that great, gaping doorway like refuse in a can—as if in one wild, frantic rush to safety, they had rushed and ground themselves to death. Slowly the messenger crept along the walls, wetting his parched mouth and trying to comprehend, stilling the tremor in his limbs and the rising terror in his heart. He met a business man, silk-hatted and frock-coated, who had crept, too, along that smooth wall and stood now stone dead with wonder written on his lips. The messenger turned his eyes hastily away and sought the curb. A woman leaned wearily against the signpost, her head bowed motionless on her lace and silken bosom. Before her stood a street car, silent, and within—but the messenger but glanced and hurried on. A grimy newsboy sat in the gutter with the "last edition" in his uplifted hand: "Danger!" screamed its black headlines. "Warnings wired around the world. The Comet's tail sweeps past us at noon. Deadly gases expected. Close doors and windows. Seek the cellar." The messenger read and staggered on. Far out from a window above, a girl lay with gasping face and sleevelets on her arms. On a store step sat a little, sweet-faced girl looking upward toward the skies, and in the carriage by her lay—but the messenger looked no longer. The cords gave way—the terror burst in his veins, and with one great, gasping cry he sprang desperately forward and ran,—ran as only the frightened run, shrieking and fighting the air until with one last wail of pain he sank on the grass of Madison Square and lay prone and still.

In the great stone doorway, a hundred men, women, and children lay crushed, twisted, and jammed together. They had been forced into the gaping entrance like trash in a can. It was as if they had rushed to safety in a wild panic and crushed themselves to death. The messenger slowly crept along the walls. He moistened his dry mouth and tried to understand what had happened. He tried to calm his trembling limbs and the terror rising in his heart. He came upon a businessman wearing a silk hat and a frock coat. The man had also crept along the smooth wall. Now he stood there, stone dead, with wonder written on his lips. The messenger quickly looked away and headed for the curb. A woman leaned wearily against a signpost, her head bowed motionless over her lace and silk-covered bosom. A streetcar stood silently before her, and inside it... But the messenger only glanced and hurried on. A grimy newsboy sat in the gutter, holding up the "last edition." Its black headlines screamed: "Danger!" "Warnings wired around the world. The Comet's tail sweeps past us at noon. Deadly gases expected. Close doors and windows. Seek the cellar." The messenger read the warning and staggered on. A girl leaned far out of a window above, her face gasping and short sleeves on her arms. A sweet-faced little girl sat on a store step, looking up at the sky. And in the carriage beside her lay... But the messenger looked no longer. His self-control gave way. Terror burst through his veins. With one great, gasping cry, he sprang forward in desperation and ran. He ran as only the frightened run, shrieking and fighting the air. At last, with a final wail of pain, he fell face down on the grass of Madison Square. There he lay, motionless and silent.

When he rose, he gave no glance at the still and silent forms on the benches, but, going to a fountain, bathed his face; then hiding himself in a corner away from the drama of death, he quietly gripped himself and thought the thing through: The comet had swept the earth and this was the end. Was everybody dead? He must search and see.

When he stood up, he did not look at the still, silent bodies on the benches. Instead, he went to a fountain and washed his face. Then he hid in a corner, away from the scene of death. He quietly pulled himself together and thought it through. The comet had swept across the earth, and this was the end. Was everyone dead? He had to search and find out.

He knew that he must steady himself and keep calm, or he would go insane. First he must go to a restaurant. He walked up Fifth Avenue to a famous hostelry and entered its gorgeous, ghost-haunted halls. He beat back the nausea, and, seizing a tray from dead hands, hurried into the street and ate ravenously, hiding to keep out the sights.

He knew he had to steady himself and stay calm, or he would go insane. First, he had to find a restaurant. He walked up Fifth Avenue to a famous hotel and entered its magnificent, ghost-haunted halls. He fought back his nausea and grabbed a tray from dead hands. Then he hurried into the street and ate ravenously, hiding to keep the sights out of view.

"Yesterday, they would not have served me," he whispered, as he forced the food down.

"Yesterday, they wouldn't have served me," he whispered, forcing the food down.

Then he started up the street,—looking, peering, telephoning, ringing alarms; silent, silent all. Was nobody—nobody—he dared not think the thought and hurried on.

Then he started up the street, looking, peering, calling, and ringing alarms. Everything was silent, silent. Was there nobody? Nobody? He dared not think it and hurried on.

Suddenly he stopped still. He had forgotten. My God! How could he have forgotten? He must rush to the subway—then he almost laughed. No—a car; if he could find a Ford. He saw one. Gently he lifted off its burden, and took his place on the seat. He tested the throttle. There was gas. He glided off, shivering, and drove up the street. Everywhere stood, leaned, lounged, and lay the dead, in grim and awful silence. On he ran past an automobile, wrecked and overturned; past another, filled with a gay party whose smiles yet lingered on their death-struck lips; on past crowds and groups of cars, pausing by dead policemen; at 42nd Street he had to detour to Park Avenue to avoid the dead congestion. He came back on Fifth Avenue at 57th and flew past the Plaza and by the park with its hushed babies and silent throng, until as he was rushing past 72nd Street he heard a sharp cry, and saw a living form leaning wildly out an upper window. He gasped. The human voice sounded in his ears like the voice of God.

Suddenly he stopped. He had forgotten. My God! How could he have forgotten? He had to rush to the subway. Then he almost laughed. No, he needed a car, if he could find a Ford. He saw one. Gently, he lifted its burden off and took his place in the seat. He tested the throttle. There was gas. Shivering, he glided off and drove up the street. Everywhere the dead stood, leaned, lounged, and lay in grim, terrible silence. He drove past a wrecked, overturned automobile. He passed another filled with a cheerful party, their smiles still lingering on their death-struck lips. He drove on past crowds and groups of cars, stopping beside dead policemen. At 42nd Street he had to detour to Park Avenue to avoid the traffic jam of the dead. He returned to Fifth Avenue at 57th and flew past the Plaza and the park, with its quiet babies and silent crowd. As he rushed past 72nd Street, he heard a sharp cry. He saw a living figure leaning wildly out of an upper window. He gasped. The human voice sounded in his ears like the voice of God.

"Hello—hello—help, in God's name!" wailed the woman. "There's a dead girl in here and a man and—and see yonder dead men lying in the street and dead horses—for the love of God go and bring the officers——" And the words trailed off into hysterical tears.

"Hello, hello, help, in God's name!" the woman cried. "There's a dead girl in here, and a man, and, and look at those dead men lying in the street, and dead horses. For the love of God, go and bring the officers." Her words trailed off into hysterical tears.

He wheeled the car in a sudden circle, running over the still body of a child and leaping on the curb. Then he rushed up the steps and tried the door and rang violently. There was a long pause, but at last the heavy door swung back. They stared a moment in silence. She had not noticed before that he was a Negro. He had not thought of her as white. She was a woman of perhaps twenty-five—rarely beautiful and richly gowned, with darkly-golden hair, and jewels. Yesterday, he thought with bitterness, she would scarcely have looked at him twice. He would have been dirt beneath her silken feet. She stared at him. Of all the sorts of men she had pictured as coming to her rescue she had not dreamed of one like him. Not that he was not human, but he dwelt in a world so far from hers, so infinitely far, that he seldom even entered her thought. Yet as she looked at him curiously he seemed quite commonplace and usual. He was a tall, dark workingman of the better class, with a sensitive face trained to stolidity and a poor man's clothes and hands. His face was soft and slow and his manner at once cold and nervous, like fires long banked, but not out.

He swung the car around in a sudden circle, running over the still body of a child and jumping the curb. Then he rushed up the steps, tried the door, and rang the bell violently. After a long pause, the heavy door finally swung open. They stared at each other in silence for a moment. She had not noticed before that he was a Negro. He had not thought of her as white. She was perhaps twenty-five, exceptionally beautiful, and richly dressed, with dark golden hair and jewels. Yesterday, he thought bitterly, she would scarcely have looked at him twice. He would have been dirt beneath her silk-covered feet. She stared at him. She had imagined all kinds of men coming to rescue her, but never one like him. It was not that he was less than human. But he lived in a world so infinitely far from hers that she seldom even thought of him. Yet as she looked at him curiously, he seemed quite ordinary and familiar. He was a tall, dark workingman of the better class, with a sensitive face trained to show no emotion. His clothes and hands were those of a poor man. His face was soft and slow, and his manner was both cold and nervous, like fires long banked but not out.

So a moment each paused and gauged the other; then the thought of the dead world without rushed in and they started toward each other.

So for a moment, each paused and sized up the other. Then the thought of the dead world outside rushed in, and they moved toward each other.

"What has happened?" she cried. "Tell me! Nothing stirs. All is silence! I see the dead strewn before my window as winnowed by the breath of God,—and see——" She dragged him through great, silken hangings to where, beneath the sheen of mahogany and silver, a little French maid lay stretched in quiet, everlasting sleep, and near her a butler lay prone in his livery.

"What has happened?" she cried. "Tell me! Nothing moves. All is silent! I see the dead scattered before my window, as if swept aside by the breath of God. And look..." She dragged him through great silk curtains. There, beneath the gleam of mahogany and silver, a young French maid lay in the quiet, eternal sleep of death. Nearby, a butler lay face down in his uniform.

The tears streamed down the woman's cheeks and she clung to his arm until the perfume of her breath swept his face and he felt the tremors racing through her body.

Tears streamed down the woman's cheeks as she clung to his arm. The scent of her breath swept across his face, and he felt her body trembling.

"I had been shut up in my dark room developing pictures of the comet which I took last night; when I came out—I saw the dead!

"I had been shut up in my darkroom, developing pictures of the comet I took last night. When I came out, I saw the dead!

"What has happened?" she cried again.

"What happened?" she cried again.

He answered slowly:

"Something—comet or devil—swept across the earth this morning and—many are dead!"

"Something, a comet or a devil, swept across the earth this morning, and many are dead!"

"Many? Very many?"

"I have searched and I have seen no other living soul but you."

"I have searched, and I have seen no one else alive but you."

She gasped and they stared at each other.

She gasped, and they stared at each other.

"My—father!" she whispered.

"My, father!" she whispered.

"Where is he?"

"He started for the office."

"He headed for the office."

"Where is it?"

"In the Metropolitan Tower."

"Leave a note for him here and come."

Then he stopped.

"No," he said firmly—"first, we must go—to Harlem."

"No," he said firmly, "first, we must go to Harlem."

"Harlem!" she cried. Then she understood. She tapped her foot at first impatiently. She looked back and shuddered. Then she came resolutely down the steps.

"Harlem!" she cried. Then she understood. At first, she tapped her foot impatiently. She looked back and shuddered. Then she walked firmly down the steps.

"There's a swifter car in the garage in the court," she said.

"There's a faster car in the garage in the courtyard," she said.

"I don't know how to drive it," he said.

"I do," she answered.

"I do," she said.

In ten minutes they were flying to Harlem on the wind. The Stutz rose and raced like an airplane. They took the turn at 110th Street on two wheels and slipped with a shriek into 135th.

In ten minutes, they were speeding toward Harlem like the wind. The Stutz rose and raced like an airplane. They took the turn at 110th Street on two wheels and screeched into 135th.

He was gone but a moment. Then he returned, and his face was gray. She did not look, but said:

He was gone for only a moment. Then he returned, his face gray. She did not look, but said:

"You have lost—somebody?"

"Have you lost someone?"

"I have lost—everybody," he said, simply—"unless——"

"I've lost everyone," he said simply, "unless..."

He ran back and was gone several minutes—hours they seemed to her.

He ran back and was gone for several minutes. To her, they seemed like hours.

"Everybody," he said, and he walked slowly back with something film-like in his hand which he stuffed into his pocket.

"Everybody," he said. He walked slowly back, holding something like film, and stuffed it into his pocket.

"I'm afraid I was selfish," he said. But already the car was moving toward the park among the dark and lined dead of Harlem—the brown, still faces, the knotted hands, the homely garments, and the silence—the wild and haunting silence. Out of the park, and down Fifth Avenue they whirled. In and out among the dead they slipped and quivered, needing no sound of bell or horn, until the great, square Metropolitan Tower hove in sight. Gently he laid the dead elevator boy aside; the car shot upward. The door of the office stood open. On the threshold lay the stenographer, and, staring at her, sat the dead clerk. The inner office was empty, but a note lay on the desk, folded and addressed but unsent:

"I'm afraid I was selfish," he said. But the car was already moving toward the park, among Harlem's dead, lined up in the darkness. There were brown, still faces, knotted hands, and plain clothes. And there was silence, a wild and haunting silence. They raced out of the park and down Fifth Avenue. The car slipped and darted among the dead, needing no bell or horn, until the great, square Metropolitan Tower came into view. Gently, he laid the dead elevator boy aside. The car shot upward. The office door stood open. The stenographer lay in the doorway, and the dead clerk sat staring at her. The inner office was empty, but a note lay on the desk, folded and addressed but unsent:

Dear Daughter:

I've gone for a hundred mile spin in Fred's new Mercedes. Shall not be back before dinner. I'll bring Fred with me.

I've gone for a 100-mile drive in Fred's new Mercedes. I won't be back before dinner. I'll bring Fred with me.

J.B.H.

"Come," she cried nervously. "We must search the city."

"Come on," she cried nervously. "We must search the city."

Up and down, over and across, back again—on went that ghostly search. Everywhere was silence and death—death and silence! They hunted from Madison Square to Spuyten Duyvel; they rushed across the Williamsburg Bridge; they swept over Brooklyn; from the Battery and Morningside Heights they scanned the river. Silence, silence everywhere, and no human sign. Haggard and bedraggled they puffed a third time slowly down Broadway, under the broiling sun, and at last stopped. He sniffed the air. An odor—a smell—and with the shifting breeze a sickening stench filled their nostrils and brought its awful warning. The girl settled back helplessly in her seat.

Up and down, over and across, back again, the ghostly search went on. Everywhere was silence and death, death and silence! They searched from Madison Square to Spuyten Duyvel. They rushed across the Williamsburg Bridge and swept through Brooklyn. From the Battery and Morningside Heights, they searched the river. Silence, silence everywhere, and no sign of human life. Exhausted and disheveled, they slowly made their way down Broadway for a third time. The sun beat down on them. At last they stopped. He sniffed the air. There was an odor, a smell. As the breeze shifted, a sickening stench filled their nostrils and brought its terrible warning. The girl sank back helplessly in her seat.

"What can we do?" she cried.

It was his turn now to take the lead, and he did it quickly.

It was his turn to lead, and he took the lead quickly.

"The long distance telephone—the telegraph and the cable—night rockets and then—flight!"

"The long-distance telephone, the telegraph and the cable, night rockets, and then flight!"

She looked at him now with strength and confidence. He did not look like men, as she had always pictured men; but he acted like one and she was content. In fifteen minutes they were at the central telephone exchange. As they came to the door he stepped quickly before her and pressed her gently back as he closed it. She heard him moving to and fro, and knew his burdens—the poor, little burdens he bore. When she entered, he was alone in the room. The grim switchboard flashed its metallic face in cryptic, sphinx-like immobility. She seated herself on a stool and donned the bright earpiece. She looked at the mouthpiece. She had never looked at one so closely before. It was wide and black, pimpled with usage; inert; dead; almost sarcastic in its unfeeling curves. It looked—she beat back the thought—but it looked,—it persisted in looking like—she turned her head and found herself alone. One moment she was terrified; then she thanked him silently for his delicacy and turned resolutely, with a quick intaking of breath.

She looked at him now with strength and confidence. He did not look like the men she had always imagined. But he acted like a man, and she was content. Fifteen minutes later, they reached the central telephone exchange. As they came to the door, he stepped quickly in front of her. He gently pressed her back as he closed the door. She heard him moving around inside and knew about his burdens, the poor, little burdens he carried. When she entered, he was alone in the room. The grim switchboard flashed its metallic face, still and mysterious as a sphinx. She sat on a stool and put on the bright earpiece. She looked at the mouthpiece. She had never looked at one so closely before. It was wide and black, with a pitted surface from use. It was lifeless, dead, almost sarcastic in its unfeeling curves. It looked like something. She pushed the thought away. But it kept looking like that. She turned her head and found herself alone. For a moment she was terrified. Then she silently thanked him for his tact. She took a quick breath and turned back with determination.

"Hello!" she called in low tones. She was calling to the world. The world must answer. Would the world answer? Was the world——

"Hello!" she called softly. She was calling to the world. The world must answer. Would the world answer? Was the world...

Silence!

She had spoken too low.

She had spoken too softly.

"Hello!" she cried, full-voiced.

"Hello!" she cried in a loud voice.

She listened. Silence! Her heart beat quickly. She cried in clear, distinct, loud tones: "Hello—hello—hello!"

She listened. Silence! Her heart beat fast. She called out clearly and loudly: "Hello, hello, hello!"

What was that whirring? Surely—no—was it the click of a receiver?

What was that whirring sound? Surely, no. Was it the click of a receiver?

She bent close, she moved the pegs in the holes, and called and called, until her voice rose almost to a shriek, and her heart hammered. It was as if she had heard the last flicker of creation, and the evil was silence. Her voice dropped to a sob. She sat stupidly staring into the black and sarcastic mouthpiece, and the thought came again. Hope lay dead within her. Yes, the cable and the rockets remained; but the world—she could not frame the thought or say the word. It was too mighty—too terrible! She turned toward the door with a new fear in her heart. For the first time she seemed to realize that she was alone in the world with a stranger, with something more than a stranger,—with a man alien in blood and culture—unknown, perhaps unknowable. It was awful! She must escape—she must fly; he must not see her again. Who knew what awful thoughts—

She leaned close and moved the pegs in the holes. She called and called until her voice nearly rose to a shriek and her heart pounded. It was as if she had heard the last flicker of creation, and silence was the evil. Her voice fell to a sob. She sat staring blankly into the black, mocking mouthpiece, and the thought came again. Hope was dead within her. Yes, the cable and the rockets remained, but the world. She could not form the thought or say the word. It was too immense, too terrible! She turned toward the door with a new fear in her heart. For the first time, she seemed to realize she was alone in the world with a stranger. He was more than a stranger. He was a man alien in blood and culture, unknown, perhaps impossible to know. It was awful! She had to escape. She had to flee. He must not see her again. Who knew what awful thoughts...

She gathered her silken skirts deftly about her young, smooth limbs—listened, and glided into a sidehall. A moment she shrank back: the hall lay filled with dead women; then she leaped to the door and tore at it, with bleeding fingers, until it swung wide. She looked out. He was standing at the top of the alley,—silhouetted, tall and black, motionless. Was he looking at her or away? She did not know—she did not care. She simply leaped and ran—ran until she found herself alone amid the dead and the tall ramparts of towering buildings.

She deftly gathered her silky skirts around her young, smooth legs, listened, and slipped into a side hall. For a moment, she shrank back. The hall was full of dead women. Then she leaped to the door and pulled at it with bleeding fingers until it swung open. She looked out. He stood at the top of the alley, a tall, black silhouette, motionless. Was he looking at her or away? She did not know. She did not care. She simply leaped and ran. She ran until she found herself alone among the dead and the towering walls of tall buildings.

She stopped. She was alone. Alone! Alone on the streets—alone in the city—perhaps alone in the world! There crept in upon her the sense of deception—of creeping hands behind her back—of silent, moving things she could not see,—of voices hushed in fearsome conspiracy. She looked behind and sideways, started at strange sounds and heard still stranger, until every nerve within her stood sharp and quivering, stretched to scream at the barest touch. She whirled and flew back, whimpering like a child, until she found that narrow alley again and the dark, silent figure silhouetted at the top. She stopped and rested; then she walked silently toward him, looked at him timidly; but he said nothing as he handed her into the car. Her voice caught as she whispered:

She stopped. She was alone. Alone! Alone on the streets, alone in the city, perhaps alone in the world! A sense of being deceived crept over her. She imagined hands reaching behind her back, silent things moving where she could not see them, and voices hushed in a fearful conspiracy. She looked behind her and to the side. She jumped at strange sounds and heard even stranger ones. Every nerve in her body was tense and trembling, ready to scream at the slightest touch. She turned and raced back, whimpering like a child, until she found the narrow alley again. At the top stood the dark, silent figure. She stopped and rested. Then she walked silently toward him and looked at him timidly. He said nothing as he helped her into the car. Her voice caught as she whispered:

"Not—that."

"Not, that."

And he answered slowly: "No—not that!"

And he answered slowly: "No, not that!"

They climbed into the car. She bent forward on the wheel and sobbed, with great, dry, quivering sobs, as they flew toward the cable office on the east side, leaving the world of wealth and prosperity for the world of poverty and work. In the world behind them were death and silence, grave and grim, almost cynical, but always decent; here it was hideous. It clothed itself in every ghastly form of terror, struggle, hate, and suffering. It lay wreathed in crime and squalor, greed and lust. Only in its dread and awful silence was it like to death everywhere.

They climbed into the car. As they sped toward the cable office on the east side, she bent over the wheel. She sobbed in great, dry, trembling sobs. They left the world of wealth and prosperity behind and entered the world of poverty and work. In the world behind them, death and silence were grave and grim, almost cynical, but always decent. Here, death was hideous. It took every dreadful form of terror, struggle, hate, and suffering. It lay surrounded by crime and filth, greed and lust. Only in its terrible silence was it like death everywhere.

Yet as the two, flying and alone, looked upon the horror of the world, slowly, gradually, the sense of all-enveloping death deserted them. They seemed to move in a world silent and asleep,—not dead. They moved in quiet reverence, lest somehow they wake these sleeping forms who had, at last, found peace. They moved in some solemn, world-wide Friedhof, above which some mighty arm had waved its magic wand. All nature slept until—until, and quick with the same startling thought, they looked into each other's eyes—he, ashen, and she, crimson, with unspoken thought. To both, the vision of a mighty beauty—of vast, unspoken things, swelled in their souls; but they put it away.

Yet as the two flew alone and looked at the horror of the world, their sense of death surrounding everything slowly faded. They seemed to move through a world that was silent and asleep, not dead. They moved in quiet reverence, afraid they might somehow wake these sleeping forms who had finally found peace. They moved through a solemn, world-wide Friedhof, over which a mighty arm seemed to have waved a magic wand. All nature slept until, until they looked into each other’s eyes, both struck by the same startling thought. His face was ashen, hers crimson, though neither spoke. In both their souls, a vision of mighty beauty and vast, unspoken things grew. But they put it aside.

Great, dark coils of wire came up from the earth and down from the sun and entered this low lair of witchery. The gathered lightnings of the world centered here, binding with beams of light the ends of the earth. The doors gaped on the gloom within. He paused on the threshold.

Great, dark coils of wire rose from the earth and came down from the sun. They entered this low den of magic. The gathered lightning of the world converged here, connecting the ends of the earth with beams of light. The doors opened wide onto the darkness inside. He paused at the entrance.

"Do you know the code?" she asked.

"I know the call for help—we used it formerly at the bank."

"I know the call for help. We used it at the bank before."

She hardly heard. She heard the lapping of the waters far below,—the dark and restless waters—the cold and luring waters, as they called. He stepped within. Slowly she walked to the wall, where the water called below, and stood and waited. Long she waited, and he did not come. Then with a start she saw him, too, standing beside the black waters. Slowly he removed his coat and stood there silently. She walked quickly to him and laid her hand on his arm. He did not start or look. The waters lapped on in luring, deadly rhythm. He pointed down to the waters, and said quietly:

She hardly heard. She heard the water lapping far below. The dark, restless water was cold and beckoning as it called. He stepped inside. Slowly, she walked to the wall, where the water called below, and stood waiting. She waited a long time, but he did not come. Then she suddenly saw him standing beside the black water too. Slowly, he took off his coat and stood there silently. She walked quickly to him and put her hand on his arm. He did not flinch or look at her. The water kept lapping in a beckoning, deadly rhythm. He pointed down at the water and said quietly:

"The world lies beneath the waters now—may I go?"

"The world is under water now. May I go?"

She looked into his stricken, tired face, and a great pity surged within her heart. She answered in a voice clear and calm, "No."

She looked at his distressed, tired face, and a great wave of pity filled her heart. She answered in a clear, calm voice, "No."

Upward they turned toward life again, and he seized the wheel. The world was darkening to twilight, and a great, gray pall was falling mercifully and gently on the sleeping dead. The ghastly glare of reality seemed replaced with the dream of some vast romance. The girl lay silently back, as the motor whizzed along, and looked half-consciously for the elf-queen to wave life into this dead world again. She forgot to wonder at the quickness with which he had learned to drive her car. It seemed natural. And then as they whirled and swung into Madison Square and at the door of the Metropolitan Tower she gave a low cry, and her eyes were great! Perhaps she had seen the elf-queen?

They turned upward toward life again, and he took the wheel. The world was darkening into twilight. A great gray shroud fell gently and mercifully over the sleeping dead. The ghastly glare of reality seemed to give way to the dream of some vast romance. The girl lay back silently as the car sped along. Half aware, she looked for the elf-queen to wave life into this dead world again. She forgot to wonder how he had learned to drive her car so quickly. It seemed natural. Then they swept into Madison Square. At the door of the Metropolitan Tower, she gave a low cry, and her eyes grew wide! Perhaps she had seen the elf-queen?

The man led her to the elevator of the tower and deftly they ascended. In her father's office they gathered rugs and chairs, and he wrote a note and laid it on the desk; then they ascended to the roof and he made her comfortable. For a while she rested and sank to dreamy somnolence, watching the worlds above and wondering. Below lay the dark shadows of the city and afar was the shining of the sea. She glanced at him timidly as he set food before her and took a shawl and wound her in it, touching her reverently, yet tenderly. She looked up at him with thankfulness in her eyes, eating what he served. He watched the city. She watched him. He seemed very human,—very near now.

The man led her to the tower elevator, and they rose smoothly. In her father's office, they gathered rugs and chairs. He wrote a note and left it on the desk. Then they went up to the roof, where he made her comfortable. For a while she rested, drifting into a dreamy sleep as she watched the worlds above and wondered. Below lay the city's dark shadows, and in the distance the sea shone. She glanced at him shyly as he set food before her. He wrapped a shawl around her, touching her with reverence and tenderness. She looked up at him with thanks in her eyes and ate what he served. He watched the city. She watched him. He seemed very human, very close now.

"Have you had to work hard?" she asked softly.

"Always," he said.

"I have always been idle," she said. "I was rich."

"I have never had to work," she said. "I was rich."

"I was poor," he almost echoed.

"The rich and the poor are met together," she began, and he finished:

"The rich and the poor meet together," she began, and he finished:

"The Lord is the Maker of them all."

"The Lord made them all."

"Yes," she said slowly; "and how foolish our human distinctions seem—now," looking down to the great dead city stretched below, swimming in unlightened shadows.

“Yes,” she said slowly. “And how foolish our human distinctions seem now.” She looked down at the great dead city stretched out below, immersed in darkness.

"Yes—I was not—human, yesterday," he said.

"Yes, I was not, human, yesterday," he said.

She looked at him. "And your people were not my people," she said; "but today——" She paused. He was a man,—no more; but he was in some larger sense a gentleman,—sensitive, kindly, chivalrous, everything save his hands and—his face. Yet yesterday——

She looked at him. "And your people were not my people," she said. "But today..." She paused. He was only a man. But in a larger sense, he was a gentleman, sensitive, kind, and chivalrous in everything except his hands and his face. Yet yesterday...

"Death, the leveler!" he muttered.

"Death makes everyone equal!" he muttered.

"And the revealer," she whispered gently, rising to her feet with great eyes. He turned away, and after fumbling a moment sent a rocket into the darkening air. It arose, shrieked, and flew up, a slim path of light, and scattering its stars abroad, dropped on the city below. She scarcely noticed it. A vision of the world had risen before her. Slowly the mighty prophecy of her destiny overwhelmed her. Above the dead past hovered the Angel of Annunciation. She was no mere woman. She was neither high nor low, white nor black, rich nor poor. She was primal woman; mighty mother of all men to come and Bride of Life. She looked upon the man beside her and forgot all else but his manhood, his strong, vigorous manhood—his sorrow and sacrifice. She saw him glorified. He was no longer a thing apart, a creature below, a strange outcast of another clime and blood, but her Brother Humanity incarnate, Son of God and great All-Father of the race to be.

"And the revealer," she whispered gently, rising to her feet with wide eyes. He turned away and fumbled for a moment, then sent a rocket into the darkening sky. It rose with a shriek, a thin trail of light. It scattered its stars, which fell on the city below. She hardly noticed. A vision of the world had risen before her. Slowly, the powerful prophecy of her destiny overwhelmed her. Above the dead past hovered the Angel of Annunciation. She was no ordinary woman. She was neither high nor low, white nor black, rich nor poor. She was the first woman, the mighty mother of all men to come and the Bride of Life. She looked at the man beside her and forgot everything but his manhood. She saw his strong, vigorous manhood, his sorrow and sacrifice. She saw him in glory. He was no longer separate from her, a lesser creature, a strange outcast from another land and bloodline. He was her Brother Humanity in the flesh, Son of God and great All-Father of the race to come.

He did not glimpse the glory in her eyes, but stood looking outward toward the sea and sending rocket after rocket into the unanswering darkness. Dark-purple clouds lay banked and billowed in the west. Behind them and all around, the heavens glowed in dim, weird radiance that suffused the darkening world and made almost a minor music. Suddenly, as though gathered back in some vast hand, the great cloud-curtain fell away. Low on the horizon lay a long, white star—mystic, wonderful! And from it fled upward to the pole, like some wan bridal veil, a pale, wide sheet of flame that lighted all the world and dimmed the stars.

He did not see the glory in her eyes. Instead, he stood looking out toward the sea, sending rocket after rocket into the silent darkness. Dark purple clouds piled up in the west. Behind them and all around, the sky glowed with a dim, strange light. It filled the darkening world and was almost like a soft, melancholy music. Suddenly, the great curtain of clouds fell away, as if pulled back by a giant hand. Low on the horizon was a long, white star, mysterious and wonderful! A pale, wide sheet of flame rose from it toward the pole, like a faint bridal veil. It lit the whole world and dimmed the stars.

In fascinated silence the man gazed at the heavens and dropped his rockets to the floor. Memories of memories stirred to life in the dead recesses of his mind. The shackles seemed to rattle and fall from his soul. Up from the crass and crushing and cringing of his caste leaped the lone majesty of kings long dead. He arose within the shadows, tall, straight, and stern, with power in his eyes and ghostly scepters hovering to his grasp. It was as though some mighty Pharaoh lived again, or curled Assyrian lord. He turned and looked upon the lady, and found her gazing straight at him.

The man stared at the heavens in fascinated silence and dropped his rockets to the floor. Memories buried beneath other memories came alive in the dead corners of his mind. The chains seemed to rattle and fall from his soul. From the crude, crushing, and submissive life of his caste, the solitary majesty of long-dead kings sprang up. He rose in the shadows, tall, straight, and stern. His eyes held power, and ghostly scepters hovered within his grasp. It was as if a mighty Pharaoh or a curly-haired Assyrian lord had come to life again. He turned toward the lady and found her staring straight at him.

Silently, immovably, they saw each other face to face—eye to eye. Their souls lay naked to the night. It was not lust; it was not love—it was some vaster, mightier thing that needed neither touch of body nor thrill of soul. It was a thought divine, splendid.

Silently and without moving, they looked into each other's eyes. Their souls lay bare to the night. It was not lust or love. It was something far greater and more powerful, needing neither the touch of a body nor the thrill of a soul. It was a divine, splendid thought.

Slowly, noiselessly, they moved toward each other—the heavens above, the seas around, the city grim and dead below. He loomed from out the velvet shadows vast and dark. Pearl-white and slender, she shone beneath the stars. She stretched her jeweled hands abroad. He lifted up his mighty arms, and they cried each to the other, almost with one voice, "The world is dead."

Slowly and silently, they moved toward each other. The sky was above them, the seas around them, and the grim, dead city below. He emerged from the velvety shadows, vast and dark. Pearl-white and slender, she shone beneath the stars. She stretched out her jeweled hands. He raised his mighty arms. They cried out to each other, almost with one voice, "The world is dead."

"Long live the——"

"Long live the..."

"Honk! Honk!" Hoarse and sharp the cry of a motor drifted clearly up from the silence below. They started backward with a cry and gazed upon each other with eyes that faltered and fell, with blood that boiled.

"Honk! Honk!" The harsh, sharp sound of a car horn rose clearly from the silence below. They cried out and stepped back. They looked at each other, then lowered their uncertain eyes, their blood boiling.

"Honk! Honk! Honk! Honk!" came the mad cry again, and almost from their feet a rocket blazed into the air and scattered its stars upon them. She covered her eyes with her hands, and her shoulders heaved. He dropped and bowed, groped blindly on his knees about the floor. A blue flame spluttered lazily after an age, and she heard the scream of an answering rocket as it flew.

"Honk! Honk! Honk! Honk!" the mad cry came again. A rocket blazed into the air from almost at their feet, scattering its stars over them. She covered her eyes with her hands, and her shoulders heaved. He dropped to his knees, bowed, and groped blindly around the floor. After what seemed like an age, a blue flame sputtered lazily. She heard an answering rocket scream as it flew.

Then they stood still as death, looking to opposite ends of the earth.

Then they stood still as death, looking toward opposite ends of the earth.

"Clang—crash—clang!"

"Clang, crash, clang!"

The roar and ring of swift elevators shooting upward from below made the great tower tremble. A murmur and babel of voices swept in upon the night. All over the once dead city the lights blinked, flickered, and flamed; and then with a sudden clanging of doors the entrance to the platform was filled with men, and one with white and flying hair rushed to the girl and lifted her to his breast. "My daughter!" he sobbed.

The roar and ringing of fast elevators shooting up from below made the great tower tremble. A confused murmur of voices swept into the night. All over the once lifeless city, lights blinked, flickered, and blazed. Then doors suddenly clanged open, and men filled the entrance to the platform. One man, his white hair flying, rushed to the girl and lifted her to his chest. "My daughter!" he sobbed.

Behind him hurried a younger, comelier man, carefully clad in motor costume, who bent above the girl with passionate solicitude and gazed into her staring eyes until they narrowed and dropped and her face flushed deeper and deeper crimson.

A younger, more handsome man hurried behind him, carefully dressed in motoring clothes. He bent over the girl with intense concern and gazed into her wide eyes. Her eyes narrowed, then she looked down, and her face flushed deeper and deeper crimson.

"Julia," he whispered; "my darling, I thought you were gone forever."

"Julia," he whispered, "my darling, I thought you were gone forever."

She looked up at him with strange, searching eyes.

"Fred," she murmured, almost vaguely, "is the world—gone?"

"Fred," she murmured, almost vaguely, "is the world gone?"

"Only New York," he answered; "it is terrible—awful! You know,—but you, how did you escape—how have you endured this horror? Are you well? Unharmed?"

"Only New York," he answered. "It is terrible, awful! You know, but how did you escape? How have you endured this horror? Are you well? Unharmed?"

"Unharmed!" she said.

"And this man here?" he asked, encircling her drooping form with one arm and turning toward the Negro. Suddenly he stiffened and his hand flew to his hip. "Why!" he snarled. "It's—a—nigger—Julia! Has he—has he dared——"

"And this man here?" he asked, putting one arm around her slumped body and turning toward the Negro. Suddenly, he stiffened and his hand flew to his hip. "Why!" he snarled. "It's... a... nigger... Julia! Has he... has he dared..."

She lifted her head and looked at her late companion curiously and then dropped her eyes with a sigh.

She lifted her head and looked curiously at her former companion. Then she lowered her eyes with a sigh.

"He has dared—all, to rescue me," she said quietly, "and I—thank him—much." But she did not look at him again. As the couple turned away, the father drew a roll of bills from his pockets.

"He risked everything to rescue me," she said quietly, "and I thank him very much." But she did not look at him again. As the couple turned away, the father pulled a roll of bills from his pockets.

"Here, my good fellow," he said, thrusting the money into the man's hands, "take that,—what's your name?"

"Here, my friend," he said, thrusting the money into the man's hands. "Take it. What's your name?"

"Jim Davis," came the answer, hollow-voiced.

"Jim Davis," came the answer in a hollow voice.

"Well, Jim, I thank you. I've always liked your people. If you ever want a job, call on me." And they were gone.

"Well, Jim, thank you. I've always liked your people. If you ever want a job, come see me." And they were gone.

The crowd poured up and out of the elevators, talking and whispering.

"Who was it?"

"Are they alive?"

"How many?"

"Two!"

"Who was saved?"

"A white girl and a nigger—there she goes."

"A white girl and a nigger, there she goes."

"A nigger? Where is he? Let's lynch the damned——"

"A nigger? Where is he? Let's lynch the damned..."

"Shut up—he's all right-he saved her."

"Shut up. He's all right. He saved her."

"Saved hell! He had no business——"

"Saved, hell! He had no business..."

"Here he comes."

Into the glare of the electric lights the colored man moved slowly, with the eyes of those that walk and sleep.

The colored man moved slowly into the glare of the electric lights, with the eyes of someone who walks in their sleep.

"Well, what do you think of that?" cried a bystander; "of all New York, just a white girl and a nigger!"

"Well, what do you think of that?" shouted a bystander. "In all of New York, just a white girl and a nigger!"

The colored man heard nothing. He stood silently beneath the glare of the light, gazing at the money in his hand and shrinking as he gazed; slowly he put his other hand into his pocket and brought out a baby's filmy cap, and gazed again. A woman mounted to the platform and looked about, shading her eyes. She was brown, small, and toil-worn, and in one arm lay the corpse of a dark baby. The crowd parted and her eyes fell on the colored man; with a cry she tottered toward him.

The colored man heard nothing. He stood silently under the glaring light, staring at the money in his hand and shrinking as he looked. Slowly, he reached into his pocket with his other hand and pulled out a baby's sheer cap. He stared again. A woman climbed onto the platform and looked around, shading her eyes. She was brown, small, and worn down by work. In one arm she held the body of a dark baby. The crowd parted, and she saw the colored man. With a cry, she staggered toward him.

"Jim!"

He whirled and, with a sob of joy, caught her in his arms.

He turned and, with a sob of joy, took her in his arms.