A Fool There Was

by Porter Emerson Browne

"There's nothing left to save," he chuckled.

"I know; but I'll try for her sake."

Schuyler lurched into a chair. In ghastly playfulness he looked upon the other.

"Try, then," he cackled. "You did so well last time, that you've come to try again, eh? Well, you've come too late. Do you remember Parmalee—the boy who killed himself? The boy that I called a fool?" He laughed, sardonically. "He's got me now—he, and Van Dam, and Rogers—three damned fools scorching in a hole in hell…. 'A fool there was'" he quoted; then, stopping, suddenly, he half rose, weakly, to his feet.

"Listen!" he cried.

There came utter silence.

"Did you hear?" he queried, triumphantly. "Did you hear her calling?"

It was more than Blake could bear.

"Jack!" he cried, tensely. "Jack!"

Schuyler rounded on him. "Don't call me that!" he said, petulantly. "Call me the Fool."