“I was weary; I had not thought.”
“Then wake up and go. We come for you.”
“I have no costume.”
“Ah, that is nothing. Make one; it is easy.”
“He sits there like his own Saul, enveloped in gloom. Come, I will be your David,” cried one, and snatched a guitar and began strumming it wildly.
While the company scattered and searched the studio for materials with which to create for him a costume for the mask, the ghost came limping up to the young man who had seated himself again wearily on the throne, and spoke to him quietly.
“The tide’s turned, Kater; wake up to it. You’re clear of the breakers. The two pictures you were going to destroy are sold. I brought those Americans here while you were away and showed them. I told you they’d take something as soon as you were admitted. Here’s the money.”
Robert Kater raised himself, looking in the eyes of his friend, and took the bank notes as if he were not aware what they really might be.
“I say! You’ve enough to keep you for a year if you don’t throw it away. Count it. I doubled your price and they took them at the price I made. Look at these.”