Scully's wrinkled visage showed grimly in the light of the
small lamp he carried. This yellow effulgence, streaming upward,
colored only his prominent features, and left his eyes, for
instance, in mysterious shadow. He resembled a murderer.
"Man, man!" he exclaimed, "have you gone daffy?"
"Oh, no! Oh, no!" rejoined the other. "There are people in this
world who know pretty nearly as much as you do- understand?"
For a moment they stood gazing at each other. Upon the Swede's
deathly pale cheeks were two spots brightly crimson and sharply edged,
as if they had been carefully painted. Scully placed the light on
the table and sat himself on the edge of the bed. He spoke
ruminatively. "By cracky, I never heard of such a thing in my life.
It's a complete muddle. I can't for the soul of me think how you
ever got this idea into your head." Presently he lifted his eyes and
asked: "And did you sure think they were going to kill you?"
The Swede scanned the old man as if he wished to see into his
mind. "I did," he said at last. He obviously suspected that this
answer might precipitate an outbreak. As he pulled on a strap his
whole arm shook, the elbow wavering like a bit of paper.
Scully banged his hand impressively on the foot-board of the bed.
"Why, man, we're goin' to have a line of ilictric street-cars in
this town next spring."
"'A line of electric street-cars,'" repeated the Swede stupidly.
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