And then: “There!” he cried in a triumphant tone, as with one foot he sent spinning across the room the chair beside which he had halted. His breast was heaving and his breath coming hard as he looked this way and that with wild eyes. Throwing open a window he put out his head and caught the cold air upon his streaming face. The sky was brightening with the promise of dawn.
“Good God!” he groaned as he turned back into the room. “Why did I try to stick this out alone? Why didn’t I do something, go somewhere, have some of the fellows come here to an all-night game? Oh, I was afraid—that’s the truth, I was afraid—and you knew it, damn you, you knew it!” he ended in angry tones.
In the library he looked wistfully toward his favorite easy chair, for his knees trembled with weariness. “No, no, I must not stop. If I sat down I’d go to sleep, and then——”
He wheeled about and started back. But he held his head higher and walked with a more confident air. “I’m winning,” he exclaimed, and there was glad surety in his voice. “It was a close call, but I’m winning! Get back to where you belong, you dog! Go back to where you came from, damn you, and stay there! I’ve won, I tell you!” And he stamped his foot and cried again, “I’ve won!”
But confident though he was of having won this victory, whatever it might be, over the invisible enemy whom he seemed both to hate and to fear, he did not yet dare to cease from his tramp. Back and forth he still went; and presently, pausing beside the open window, he saw that the sky was flushed with sunrise and heard the roar and rattle of another day rising from the streets.
“A bath soon, and breakfast,” he thought, “and then out for the day, and I’ll be fairly safe once more. And if things get hard, I’ll motor over to Staten Island and take Miss Marne’s sister out again. That experiment helped a lot yesterday.”
He went through the rooms, putting up shades and pushing back curtains and switching off electric lights. His face was white and haggard and in his eyes still lingered the look of wild anxiety which had filled them for so many hours. With hands that trembled he poured another glass of brandy and soda. As he passed the door of his chamber his step lagged, he turned and looked in.
“No! No!” he cried harshly, and tried to walk on. But his feet were like lead and held him there. Once more his body stiffened for battle, his teeth ground together and his lips shut in a straight, hard line.
He staggered a little way toward the bed, trying to hold himself back, as if he were wrestling, with all his remnant of strength and will, against some immaterial, compelling force. Striking out with one fist, as at some foe beside him, he shouted thickly, “Go! Go back, I say!” And with a supreme effort he wheeled about and with uncertain, heavy steps moved back toward the door.