‘I am the resurrection and the life—’
I turned away. I could not listen; I could not
look. I did not know whither to go or what to
do. Mechanically and without knowing it, I put
my eye to that strange instrument, and there was Peking
and the Czar’s procession! The next moment
I was leaning out of the window, gasping, suffocating,
trying to speak, but dumb from the very imminence of
the necessity of speaking. The preacher could
speak, but I, who had such need of words—’And
may God have mercy upon your soul. Amen.’
The sheriff drew down the black cap, and laid his
hand upon the lever. I got my voice.
’Stop, for God’s sake! The man is
innocent. Come here and see Szczepanik face
to face!’
Hardly three minutes later the governor had my place
at the window, and was saying:
‘Strike off his bonds and set him free!’
Three minutes later all were in the parlour again.
The reader will imagine the scene; I have no need
to describe it. It was a sort of mad orgy of
joy.
A messenger carried word to Szczepanik in the pavilion,
and one could see the distressed amazement in his
face as he listened to the tale. Then he came
to his end of the line, and talked with Clayton and
the governor and the others; and the wife poured out
her gratitude upon him for saving her husband’s
life, and in her deep thankfulness she kissed him at
twelve thousand miles’ range.
The telelectroscopes of the world were put to service
now, and for many hours the kinds and queens of many
realms (with here and there a reporter) talked with
Szczepanik, and praised him; and the few scientific
societies which had not already made him an honorary
member conferred that grace upon him.
How had he come to disappear from among us?
It was easily explained. He had not grown
used to being a world-famous person, and had been forced
to break away from the lionising that was robbing him
of all privacy and repose. So he grew a beard,
put on coloured glasses, disguised himself a little
in other ways, then took a fictitious name, and went
off to wander about the earth in peace.
Such is the tale of the drama which began with an
inconsequential quarrel in Vienna in the spring of
1898, and came near ending as a tragedy in the spring
of 1904.
Correspondence of the ‘London Times’
Chicago, April 5, 1904
To-day, by a clipper of the Electric Line, and the
latter’s Electric Railway connections, arrived
an envelope from Vienna, for Captain Clayton, containing
an English farthing. The receiver of it was a
good deal moved. He called up Vienna, and stood
face to face with Mr. K., and said:
’I do not need to say anything: you can
see it all in my face. My wife has the farthing.
Do not be afraid—she will not throw it
away.’
