"Not a bit of it. Whom do you rob? A man who voluntarily came to you, and gave you that of which you rob him. Think of it as it is— and act, only act quickly. It is now midnight."
The tempter rose up and walked to the other end of the room, whence, while he pretended to be looking over a few of my books and pictures, I was aware he was eyeing me closely, and gradually compelling me by sheer force of will to do a thing which I abhorred. And I—I struggled weakly against the temptation, but gradually, little by little, I yielded, and finally succumbed altogether. Springing to my feet, I rushed to the table, seized my pen, and signed my name to the story.
"There!" I said. "It is done. I have saved my position and made my reputation, and am now a thief!"
[Illustration: "DOESN'T DARE TO LOOK ME IN THE EYE">[
"As well as a fool," said the other, calmly. "You don't mean to say you are going to send that manuscript in as it is?"
"Good Lord!" I cried. "What under heaven have you been trying to make me do for the last half hour?"
"Act like a sane being," said the demon. "If you send that manuscript to Currier he'll know in a minute it isn't yours. He knows you haven't an amanuensis, and that handwriting isn't yours. Copy it."
"True!" I answered. "I haven't much of a mind for details to-night.
I will do as you say."
I did so. I got out my pad and pen and ink, and for three hours diligently applied myself to the task of copying the story. When it was finished I went over it carefully, made a few minor corrections, signed it, put it in an envelope, addressed it to you, stamped it, and went out to the mail-box on the corner, where I dropped it into the slot, and returned home. When I had returned to my library my visitor was still there.
"Well," it said, "I wish you'd hurry and complete this affair. I am tired, and wish to go."