Exerpt from Markheim

"Yes," said the dealer, "our windfalls are of various kinds. Some customers are ignorant, and then I touch a dividend on my superior knowledge. Some are dishonest," and here he held up his candle, so that the light fell strongly on his visitor, "and in that case," he continued, "I profit by my virtue." Markheim had but just entered from the day¬light streets, and his eyes had not yet grown familiar with the mingled shine and darkness of the shop. At these pointed words, and before the near presence of the flame, hs blinked pain- (idly and looked aside.

The dealer chuckled. "You come to me on Christmas day," he resumed, "when you know that I am alone in my house, put up my shutters, and make a point of refusing business. Well, you will have to pay for that; you will have to pay for my loss of time, when I should be balanc¬ing my books; you will have to pay, besides, for a kind of manner that I remark in you today very strongly. I am the essence of discretion, and I ask no awkward questions; but when a customer cannot look me in the eye, he has to pay for it." The dealer once more chuckled; and then changing to his usual business voice, though still with a note of irony, " You can give, as usual, a clear account of how you came into the possession of the object?" he continued. "Still your uncle's cabinet? A remarkable collector, sir!" And the little pale, round-shouldered dealer stood almost on tiptoe, looking over the top of his gold spectacles, and nodding his head with every mark of disbelief. Markheim returned his gaze with one of infinite pity, and a touch of horror. "This time," said he, "you are in error. I have not come to sell, but to buy. I have no curios to dispose of; my uncle's cabinet is bare to the wainscot; even were it still intact, I have done well on the Stock Exchange, and should more likely add to it than otherwise, and my errand today is simplicity itself. I seek a. Christmas present for a lady," he continued, waxing more fluent as he struck into the speech he had prepgred ; "and certainly I owe you every excuse for thus disturbing you upon so small a matter. But the thing was neglected yesterday; I must produce my little compliment at dinner; and, as you very well know, a rich marriage is not a thing to be neglected." There followed a pause, during which the dealer seemed to weigh this statement incredulously. The ticking of many docks among the curious lumber of the shop, and the faint rushing of the cabs in a near thoroughfare, filled up the inter¬val of silence. "Well, sir," said the dealer, "be it so. You are an old customer after all; and if, as you say, you have the chance of a good marriage, far be it from me to be an obstacle. Here is a nice thing for a lady now," he went on, "this hand¬glass—fifteenth century, warranted; comes from a good collection, too; but I reserve the name, in the interests of my customer, who was, just like yourself, my dear sir, the nephew and sole heir of a remarkable collector." The dealer, while he thus ran on in his dry and biting voice, had stooped to take the object from its place; and as he had done so, a shock had passed through Markheim, a start both of hand and foot, a sudden leap of many tumultuous passions to the face. It passed as swiftly as it came, and left no trace beyond a certain trem¬bling of the hand that now received the glass. "A glass," he said hoarsely, and then paused and repeated it more dearly. "A glass? For Christmas? Surely not?" "And why not?" cried the dealer. "Why not a glass?" Markheim was looking upon him with an in¬definable expression. "You ask me why not?" he said. "Why, look here—look in it—look at yourself! Do you like to see it? No! nor I— nor any man." The little man had jumped back when Markhelm had so suddenly confronted him with the mirror; but now, perceiving there was nothing worse on hand, he chuckled. "Your future lady, sir, must be pretty hard favored," said he. "I ask you," said Markheim, "for a Christmas present, and you give me this damned reminder of years, and sins and follies—this hand-conscience! Did you mean it? Had you a thought in your mind? Tell me. It will be better for you if you do. Come, tell me about yourself. I hazard a guess now, that in secret you are a very charitable man?" The dealer looked closely at his companion. It was very odd, Markheim did not appear to be laughing; there was something in his face like an eager sparkle of hope, but nothing of mirth. "What are you driving at?" the dealer asked. "Not charitable?" returned the other gloomily. "Not charitable; not pious; not scrupulous; un¬loving, unbeloved; a hand to get money, a safe to keep it. Is that all? Dear God, man, is that all?" "I will tell you what it is," began the dealer, with some sharpness and then broke off again into a chuckle. "But I see this is a love-match of yours, and you have been drinking the lady's health." "Ahl" cried Markheim, with a strange curi osity. "Ah, have you been in love? Tell me about that." "I!" cried the dealer. "I in love! I never had the time, nor have I the time today for all this nonsense. Will you take the glass?" "Where is the hurry?" returned Markheim. "It is very pleasant to stand here talking; and life is so short and insecure that I would not hurry away from any pleasure—no not even from so mild a one as this. We should rather cling, cling to what little we can get, like a man at a cliff's edge. Every second is a cliff, if you think upon it—a cliff a mile high—high enough if we fall, to dash us out of every feature of humanity. Hence it is best to talk pleasantly. Let us talk of each other; why should we wear this mask? Let us be confidential. Who knows, we might become friends?" "I have just one word to say to you," said the dealer. "Either make your purchase or walk out of my shop." "True, true," said Markheim. "Enough fooling. To business. Show me something else." The dealer stooped once more, this time to replace the glass upon the shelf, his thin blond hair falling over his eyes as he did so. Markheim moved a little nearer, with one hand in the pocket of his great coat; he drew himself up and filled his lungs; at the same time many different emo¬tions were depicted together upon his face—terror, horror, and resolve, fascination and a physical repulsion; and through a haggard lift of his upper hp, his teeth looked out. "This, perhaps, may suit," observed the dealer; and then, as he began to rearise, Mark- helm bounded from behind upon his victim. The long, skewer-like dagger flashed and fell. The dealer struggled like a hen, striking his temple on the shelf, and then tumbled on the floor in a heap.