in Mr Bessel's room?' The porter said nothing, but, obeying his gestures, came at once to Mr Bessel's apartment to see the state of affairs. 'This settles it,' he said, surveying the lunatic confusion. 'I didn't know of this. Mr Bessel's gone off. He's mad!'
He then proceeded to tell Mr Vincey that about half an hour previously, that is to say, at about the time of Mr Bessel's apparition in Mr Vincey's rooms, the missing gentleman had rushed out of the gates of the Albany into Vigo Street, hatless and with disordered hair, and had vanished into the direction of Bond Street. 'And as he went past me,' said the porter, 'he laughed—a sort of gasping laugh, with his mouth open and his eyes glaring—I tell you, sir, he fair scared me!—like this.'
According to his imitation it was anything but a pleasant laugh. 'He waved his hand, with all his fingers crooked and clawing—like that. And he said, in a sort of fierce whisper, "Life!" Just that one word, "Life!"'
'Dear me,' said Mr Vincey. 'Tut, tut,' and 'Dear me!' He could think of nothing else to say. He was naturally very much surprised. He turned from the room to the porter and from the porter to the room in the gravest perplexity. Beyond his suggestion that probably Mr Bessel would come back presently and explain what had happened, their conversation was unable to proceed. 'It might be a sudden toothache,' said the porter, 'a very sudden and violent toothache, jumping on him suddenly-like and driving him wild. I've broken things myself before now in such a case . . .' He thought. 'If it was, why should he say 'life' to me as he went past?'
Mr Vincey did not know. Mr Bessel did not return, and at last Mr Vincey, having done some more helpless
