The sight was
calculated to carry the minds of both back to the events of former
years. But I noticed that Hall quickly changed the position of his
chair, and sat down again with his back to the rising moon. He had
managed to save some millions from the wreck of his vast fortune when
artemisium started to go to the dogs, and I was now paying him one of
my annual visits at his palatial home in California.
"Did I ever tell you of my last trip to the Teton?" he asked, as I
continued to gaze contemplatively at the broad lunar disk which slowly
detached itself from the horizon and began to swim in the clear
evening sky.
"No," I replied, "but I should like to hear about it."
"Or of my last sight of Dr. Syx?"
"Indeed! I did not suppose that you ever saw him after that conference
in your mill, when he had to surrender half of the world to you."
"Once only I saw him again," said Hall, with a peculiar intonation.
"Pray go ahead, and tell me the whole story."
My friend lighted a fresh cigar, tipped his chair into a more
comfortable position, and began:
"It was about seven years ago.
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