Speaker 1: Over an absente bottle by W. C. Morrow. Arthur Kimberlain,
a young man of very high spirit, found himself a
total stranger in San Francisco one rainy evening at a
time when his heart was breaking, for his hunger was
of that most poignant kind in which physical suffering is
forced to the highest point without impairment of the mental functions.
There remained in his possession, not a thing that he
might have pawned for a morsel to eat, And even
as it was, he had stripped his body of all
articles of clothing, except those which a remaining sense of
decency compelled him to retain. Hence it was that cold
assailed him and conspired with hunger to complete his misery.
Having been brought into the world and reared a gentleman,
he lacked the courage to beg and the skill to steal.
Had not an extraordinary thing happened to him, he either
would have drowned himself in the bay within twenty four
hours or died of pneumonia in the street. He had
been seventy hours without food, and his mental desperation had
driven him far in its race. With his physical needs
to consume the strength within him, so that now pale,
weak and tottering, he took what comfort he could find
in the savory odors which came steaming up from the
basement kitchens of the restaurants in Market Street, caring more
to gain them than to avoid the rain. His teeth chattered,
he shambled, stooped, and gasped. He was too desperate to
curse his fate. He could only long for food. He
could not reason, He could not understand that ten thousand
hands might gladly have fed him. He could think only
of the hunger which consumed him, and of food that
could give him warmth and happiness. When he had arrived
at Mason Street, he saw a restaurant a little way
up that thoroughfare, and for that he headed, Crossing the street diagonally.
He stopped before the window and ogled the stakes, thick
and lined with fat, big oysters, lying on ice, slices
of ham as large as his hat hull, roasted chickens,
brown and juicy. He ground his teeth, groaned, and staggered
on a few steps. Beyond this was a drinking saloon
which had a private door at one side, with the
words family Entrance painted thereon in the recess of the door,
which was closed, stood a man. In spite of his agony,
Kimberland saw something in the man's face that appalled and
fascinated him. Night was on and the light in the
vicinity was dim, but it was apparent that the stranger
had an appearance of whose character he himself must have
been ignorant. Perhaps it was the unspeakable anguish of it
that struck through Kimberland's sympathies. The young man came to
an uncertain halt and stared at the stranger. At first
he was unseen, for the stranger looked straight out into
the street with singular fixity, and the deathlike pallor of
his added a weirdness to the immobility of his gaze.
Then he took notice of the young man. Ah, he said, slowly,
and with a peculiar distinctness, the rain has caught you too,
without overcoat or umbrella, Stand in this doorway. There's room
for two. The voice was not unkind, though it had
an alarming hardness. It was the first word that had
been addressed to the sufferer since hunger had seized him,
and to be spoken to it all and have his
comfort regarded in the slightest way gave him cheer. He
entered the embrasure and stood beside the stranger, who at
once relapsed into his fixed gaze at nothing across the street.
But presently the stranger stirred himself again. It may reign
a long time, said he. I am cold, and I
observe that you tremble. Let us step inside and get
a drink. He opened the door, and Kimberland followed hope,
beginning to lay a warm hand upon his heart. The
pale stranger led the way into one of the little
private booths with which the place was furnished. Before sitting down,
he put his hand into his pocket and drew forth
a roll of bank bills. You are younger than I,
he said. Won't you go to the bar and buy
a bottle of absinthe and bring a pitcher of water
and some glasses. I don't like for the waiters to
come around. Here's a twenty dollar bill. Kimberland took the
bill and started down the corridor towards the bar. He
clutched the money tightly in his palm. It felt warm
and comfortable and sent a delicious tingling through his arm.
How many glorious hot meals did that bill represent? He
clunched it tighter and hesitated. He thought he smelled a
broiled steak with fat little mushrooms and melted butter in
the steaming dish. He stopped and looked back towards the
door of the booth. He saw that the stranger had
closed it. He could pass it, slip out the door,
and buy something to eat. He turned and started, but
the coward in him there are other names for this,
tripped his resolution. So he went straight to the bar
and made the purchase. This was so unusual that the
man who served him looked sharply at him. Ain't gonna
drink all that, are you? He asked? I have friends
in the box, replied Kimberlain, and we want to drink
quietly and without interruption. We are in number seven. Oh beg, pardon,
that's all right, said the man. Kimberlyn's step was very
much stronger and steadier as he returned with the liquor.
He opened the door of the booth. The stranger sat
at the side of the little table, staring at the
opposite wall, just as he had stared across the street.
He wore a wide brimmed slouch hat drawn well down.
It was only after Kimberlyn had set the bottle, pitcher
and glasses on the table and seated himself opposite the
stranger and within his range of vision, that the pale
man noticed him. Oh, you have brought it. How kind
of you. Now, please lock the door. Kimberlin had slipped
the change into his pocket and was in the act
of bringing it out when the stranger said, keep the change.
You will need it for I am going to get
it back in a way that may interest you. Let
us first drink, and then I will explain. The pale
man makes two drinks of absinthe and water, and the
two drink. Kimberlain, unsophisticated, had never tasted the liquor before,
and he found it harsh and offensive. But no sooner
had it reached his stomach than it began to warm
him and sent the most delicious thrill through his frame.
It will do as good, said the stranger. Presently we
shall have more. Meanwhile, do you know how to throw dice?
Kimberland weakly confessed that he did not. I thought not. Well,
Please go to the bar and bring a dice box.
I would ring for it, but I don't want the
waiters to be coming in. Kimberlin fetched the box again,
locked the door, and the game began. It was not
one of the simple old games, but had complications in
which judgment as well as chance played a part. After
a game or two without stakes, the stranger said, you
now seem to understand it very well. I will show
you that you do not. We will now throw for
a dollar a game, and in that way I shall
win the money that you received in change. Otherwise I
should be robbing you, and I imagine you cannot afford
to lose. I mean no offense. I am a plain
spoken man, but I believe in honesty before politeness. I
merely want a little diversion, and you are so kind
natured that I am sure you will not object. On
the contrary, replied Kimberlain, I shall enjoy it very well,
but let us have another drink before we start. I
believe I am growing colder. They drink again, and this
time the starving man took his liquor with relish. At
least it was something in his stomach, and it warmed
and delighted him. The steak was a dollar aside. Kimberlin won.
The pale stranger smiled grimly and opened another game again.
Kimberlind won. Then the stranger pushed back his hat and
fixed that still gaze upon his opponent, smiling. Yet with
this full view of the pale stranger's face, Kimberlin was
more appalled than ever. He had begun to acquire a
certain self possession and ease, and his marveling at the
singular character of the adventure had begun to weaken when
this new instant threw him back into confusion. It was
the extraordinary expression of the stranger's face that alarmed him.
Never upon the face of a living being had he
seen a pallor so deathlike and chilling. The face was
more than pale, it was white. Kimberlain's observing faculty had
been sharpened by the absence, and after having detected the
stranger in an absent minded effort two or three times
to stroke a beard which had no existence, he reflected
that some of the whiteness of the face might be
due to the recent removal of a full beard. Besides
the pallor, there were deep and sharp lines upon the
face which the electric light brought out very distinctly, with
the exception of the steady gaze of the eyes and
an occasional hard smile that seemed out of place upon
such a face. The expression was that of stone in
artistically cut. The eyes were black, but of heavy expression.
The lower lip was purple. The hands were fine, white
and thin, and dark veins bulged out upon them. The
stranger pulled down his hat. You are lucky, he said,
Suppose we try another drink. There is nothing like absinthe
to sharpen one's wits, and I see that you and
I are going to have a delightful game. After the drink,
the game proceeded. Kimberlind won from the very first, rarely
losing a game. He became greatly excited. His eyes shone
color came to his cheeks. The stranger, having exhausted the
roll of bills which he first produced, drew forth another,
much larger and of higher denominations. There were several thousand
dollars in the role. At Kimberlin's right hand were his winnings,
something like two hundred dollars. The stakes were raised and
the game went rapidly on. Another drink was taken. Then
fortune turned the Stranger's way and he won easily. It
went back to Kimberland, for he was now playing with
all the judgment and skill he could command. Once only
did it occur to him to wonder what he should
do with the money if he should quit winner, But
a sense of honor decided him that it would belong
to the stranger. By this time, the absence had so
sharpened Kimberland's faculties that the temporary satisfaction which it had
brought to his hunger, having passed his physical suffering, returned
with increased aggressiveness. Could he not order a supper with
his earnings? No, that was out of the question, and
the stranger said nothing about eating. Kimberlain continued to play
while the manifestations of hunger took the form of sharp
pains which darted through him viciously, causing him to writhe
and grind his teeth. The stranger paid no attention, for
he was now wholly absorbed in the game. He seemed
puzzled and disconcerted. He played with great care, studying each
thrown minutely. No conversation passed between them. Now they drank occasionally,
the dice continued to rattle, the money kept piling up
at Kimberland's hand. The pale man began to behave strangely.
At times, he would start and throw back his head
as though he were listening. For a moment, his eyes
would sharpen and flash, and then sink into heaviness again.
More than once. Kimberlain, who had now begun to suspect
that this antagonist with some kind of monster, saw frightfully
ghastly expression sweep over his face, and his features would
become fixed for a very short time in a peculiar agrimence.
It was noticeable, however, that he was steadily sinking deeper
and deeper into a condition of apathy. Occasionally he would
raise his eyes to Kimberland's face after the young man
had made an astonishingly looky throw, and keep them fixed
there with a steadiness that made the young man quail.
The stranger produced another roll of bills when the second
was gone, and this had a value many times as
great as the others. Together, the stakes were raised to
a thousand dollars a game, and still Kimberland won. At last,
the time came when the stranger braced himself for a
final effort. With speech somewhat thick, but very deliberate and quiet,
he said, you have won seventy four thousand dollars, which
is exactly the amount that I have remaining. We have
been playing for several hours. I am tired, and I
suppose you are. Let us finish the game. Each will
now stake all and throw a final game for it
without hesitation. Kimberland agreed. The bills made a considerable pile
on the table. Kimberlin threw, and the box held but
one combination that could possibly defeat him. This combination might
be thrown one once in ten thousand times. The starving
man's heart beat violently as the stranger picked up the
box with exasperating deliberation. It was a long time before
he threw. He made his combinations and ended by defeating
his opponent. He sat and looked at the dice a
long time, and then he slowly leaned back in his chair,
settling himself comfortably, raised his eyes to Kimberlain's and fixed
that unearthly stare upon him. He said not a word.
His face contained not a trace of emotion or intelligence.
He simply looked one cannot keep one's eyes open very
long without winking, but the stranger did. He sat so
motionless that Kimberlin began to be tortured. I will go now,
he said to the stranger, said that, when he had
not a cent and was starving. The stranger made no reply,
but did not relax his gaze. Under that gaze, the
young man shrink back in his own chair, terrified. He
became aware that two men were cautiously talking in an
adjoining booth, as there was now a deathly silence in
his own. He listened, and this is what he heard. Yes,
he was seen to turn into this street about three
hours ago, and he was shaved. He must have done so,
and to remove a full beard would naturally make a
great change in a man. But it may not have been.
He true enough, but his extreme pallor attracted attention. You
know that he had been troubled with heart disease lately,
and it has affected him seriously. Yes, but his old
skill remains. Why this is the most daring bank robbery
we had ever had here A hundred and forty eight
thousand dollars. Think of it. How long has it been
since he was let out? The Joliet eight years. In
that time he has grown a beard and lived by
dice throwing with men who thought they could detect him
if he should swindle them. But that is impossible. No
human being can come winner out of a game with him.
He is evidently not here. Let us look farther. Then
the two men clinked glasses and passed out the dice players.
The pale one and the starving one sat gazing at
each other, with a hundred and forty eight thousand dollars
piled up between them. The winner made no move to
take in the money. He merely sat and stared at Kimberlain,
wholly unmoved by the conversation in the adjoining room. His
imperturbability was amazing, his absolute stillness terrifying. Chamberlayn began to
shake with an agueu. The cold, steady gaze of the
stranger sent ice into his marrow. Unable to bear longer
this unwavering look, Chamberlayn moved to one side, and then
he was amazed to discover that the eyes of the
pale man, instead of following him, remained fixed upon the
spot where he had sat, or rather upon the wall
behind it. A great dread beset the young man. He
feared to make the slightest sound. Voices of the men
in the bar room were audible, and the sufferer imagined
that he had heard others whispering and tiptoeing in the
passage outside his booth. He poured out some absinthe, watching
his strange companion all the while, and drank alone and unnoticed.
He took a heavy drink, and it had a peculiar
effect upon him. He felt his heart bounding with alarming
force and rapidity, and breathing was difficult. Still, his hunger remained,
and that in the absinthe gave him an idea that
the gastric acids were destroying him by digesting his stomach.
He leaned forward and whispered to the stranger, but was
given no attention. One of the man's hands lay upon
the table. Kimberlain placed his upon it, and then drew
back in terror. The hand was as cold as a stone.
The money must not lie there, exposed. Kimberlin arranged it
into neat parcels, looking furtively every moment at his immovable
companion and immortal fear that he would stir. Then he
sat back and waited. A deadly fascination impelled him to
move back into his former position so as to bring
his face directly before the gaze of the stranger, And
so the two sat and stared at each other. Kimberlain
felt his breath coming heavier and his heart beats growing weaker.
But these conditions gave him comfort by reducing his anxiety
and softening the pangs of hunger. He was growing more
and more comfortable, and yawned. If he had dared, he
might have gone to sleep. Suddenly, a fierce light flooded
his vision and sent him with a bound to his feet.
Had he been struck upon the head or stabbed to
the heart, No, he was sound and alive. The pale
strangers still sat there, staring at nothing and immovable, But
Kimberlin was no longer afraid of him. On the contrary,
an extraordinary buoyancy of spirit and elasticity of body made
him feel reckless and daring. His former timidity and scruples vanished,
and he felt equal to any adventure without hesitation. He
gathered up the money and bestowed it in his several pockets.
I am a fool to starve, he said to himself,
with all this money ready to my hand, as cautiously
as a thief, he unlocked the door, stepped out, reclosed it,
and boldly, with his head erect stalked out upon the street.
Much to his astonishment, he found the city in the
bustle of the early evening. Yet the sky was clear.
It was evident to him that he had not been
in the saloon as long as he had supposed. He
walked along the street with the utmost, unconcerned the dangers
that beset him, and laughed softly, but gleefully. Would he
not eat now? Ah? Would he not? Why he could
buy a dozen restaurants. Not only that, but he could
hunt the city up and down for hungry men, and
feed them with the fattest steaks, the juices, roasts, and
the biggest oysters that the town could supply. As for himself,
he must eat first. After that he would set up
a great establishment for feeding other hungry mortals without charge. Yes,
he would eat first if he pleased. He would eat
till he should burst. In What single place could he
find sufficient to satisfy his hunger? Could he live sufficiently
long to have an ox killed and roasted whole for
his supper, Besides an ox, he would order two dozen
broiled chickens, fifty dozen oysters, a dozen crabs, ten dozen eggs,
ten hams, eight young pigs, twenty wild ducks, fifteen fish
of four different kinds, eight salads, four dozen bottles of
each clearant, burgundy and chimpagne. For pastry, eight plum puddings,
and for dessert bushels of nuts, ices and confection. It
would require time to prepare such a meal, and if
he could only live until it could be made ready,
it would be infinitely better than to spoil his appetite
with a dozen or two meals of ordinary size. He
thought he could live that long, for he felt amazingly
strong and bright. Never in his life before had he
walked with so great ease and lightness. His feet hardly
touched the ground, he ran and leaped. It did him
good to tantalize his hunger, for that would make his
relish of the feast all the keener. Oh but how
they would stare when he would give his order, and
how comically they would hang back, And how amazed he
would be when he would throw a few thousands of
dollars on the counter and tell them to take their
money out of it and keep the change. Really, it
was worthwhile to be so hungry as that, for then
eating became an unspeakable luxury. And one must not be
too great a hurry to eat when one is so hungry,
that is beastly. How much of theo of living to
rich people miss from eating before they are hungry, before
they have gone three days and nights without food, And
how manly it is, and how great self control it
shows to dally with starvation when one has a dazzling
fortune in one's pocket and every restaurant has an open door.
To be hungry without money, that is despair. To be
starving with a bursting pocket, that is the alme Surely,
the only true heaven is that in which one famishes
in the presence of abundant food, which he might have
for the taking, and then a gorge stomach and a
long sleep. The starving wretch speculating thus still kept from food.
He felt himself growing in stature, and the people whom
he met became pygmies. The streets widened, and the stars
became suns and dim the electric lights and the most
intoxicating odors in the sweetest music filled the air. Shouting, laughing,
and singing. Kimberlain joined in a great chorus that swept
over the city. And then the two detectives who had
traced the famous bank robber to the saloon in Mason
Street where Kimberlain had encountered the stranger of the Pallor
of Face left the saloon, but unable to pursue the
trail farther, had finally returned they found the door booth
number seven locked. After wrapping and calling and receiving no answer,
they burst open the door, and there they saw two men,
one of middle age and the other very young, sitting
perfectly still and in the strangest manner imaginable, staring at
each other. Across the table. Between them was a great
pile of money, arranged neatly in parcels. Near at hand,
where an empty absinthe bottle, a water pitcher, glasses, and
a dice box, with the dice lying before the elder
man as he had thrown them last. One of the
detectives covered the elder man with a revolver and commanded,
rube your hands, but the dice thrower paid no attention.
The detectives exchanged startled glances. They looked closer into the
faces of the two men, and then they discovered that
both were dead end of over an absente bottle by W. C.
Morrow