The Argosy, Vol. XXV, No. 1 — page 143: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE GOLD DELUGE. 143 aud glanced casually at Erik. That was the last medical visit, and thereafter only the keeper came into contact with him. Months passed ; autumn, winter, and spring followed each other and Erik fell into a condition of mental apathy from sheer monotony. Thinking was of no benefit, he found ; his fate was sealed apparently ; he was buried alive. What had become of the others—of his wife? Where was she? Where was his faithf i crew? Were they free or ? He dared not think further. At first he harbored thoughts of escape, but the massive granite walls and solid iron bars at the windows, the sea rushing against the side of the asylum, and the lynx eyed guard—all this destroyed his hopes. One refuge remained for him—he dwelt in the land of his imagination—where in his youth he had spent many hours in happy dreams of ambition; there he found freedom from his excruciating, horrible thoughts over the reality. All day he heard distant screaming, shouting, and laughing emanating from the other cells ; it made him shudder. He never saw the other inmates except perhaps through a grated window or door. Very rarely he met a keeper returning with some lunatic from his exercise. This rare occurrence happened again one day, early in June. On going out, Hrik met a keeper followed by a prisoner in the asylum garb, who held his head low. Erik could not see his features until one step away, and then the man suddenly raised his head—their eyes met and both trembled violently under the unexpected shock of recognition. lt was Szemsky / Their first involuntary, impulse was to call loudly to each other, but thanks to their presence of- mind neither betrayed the other. As they passed Szeinsky surreptitiously made a sign with his index finger, indicating a ques- tion. Hrik, whose nerves quivered with the intense strain and the terrible import of that moment, so fraught with meaning for both, understood szemsky’s meaning, and behind the keeper’s back made a motion as though writing in the air the number ‘‘13.”’ Had Szemsky seen and understood ? When Erik reached his cell he sank on his couch and lay in awful suspense, deeply in thought. What result would come from the recognition between Szemsky and him- self? Would it open the way to freedom? Probably not. Perhaps Szemsky was not so closely confined and guarded as Erik, and yet—the hopes that seemed newly born in his breast soon died again. Where was Szemsky? Perhaps in another wing of the building. Of what benefit would it be for him to know the number of Erik’s cell? ‘T’he more he thought of the matter, the more he became convinced that his posi- tion was not one whit the better. He paced his cell restlessly once more, now and then casting a sad glance at the high, grated window. Outside the foam crested breakers sang their eternal song of the sea—of life—of freedom ; inside the cell, life imprison- . ment—a living death ! CoOmicoool<s (S@)