"How do you do, sir," the man said, and it was patent that English was
not the tongue he had learned at his mother's knee. "How's Captain Tom?
They told me in the town that he was sick."

"My brother is dead," Frederick answered.

The stranger turned his head and gazed out over the park-like grounds
and up to the distant redwood peaks, and Frederick noted that he
swallowed with an effort.

"By the turtles of Tasman, he was a man," he said, in a deep, changed
voice.

"By the turtles of Tasman, he was a man," Frederick repeated; nor did he
stumble over the unaccustomed oath.




THE ETERNITY OF FORMS


A strange life has come to an end in the death of Mr. Sedley Crayden, of
Crayden Hill.

Mild, harmless, he was the victim of a strange delusion that kept him
pinned, night and day, in his chair for the last two years of his life.
The mysterious death, or, rather, disappearance, of his elder brother,
James Crayden, seems to have preyed upon his mind, for it was shortly