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with recent scratches. The light of the vesta was reflected from the
varnished sides, like a staice in quiet water; and in the farther end of
the room the shadow of that strange visitor loomed bulkily and wavered
on the wall.
Gideon let the match burn to his fingers, and the darkness closed once
more on his bewilderment. Then with trembling hands he lit the lamp and
drew near. Near or far, there was no doubt of the fact: the thing was
a piano. There, where by all the laws of God and man it was impossible
that it should be--there the thing impudently stood. Gideon threw open
the keyboard and struck a chord. Not a sound disturbed the quiet of the
room. 'Is there anything wrong with me?' he thought, with a pang; and
drawing in a seat, obstinately persisted in his attempts to ravish
silence, now with sparkling arpeggios, now with a sonata of Beethoven's
which (in happier days) he knew to be one of the loudest pieces of that
powerful composer. Still not a sound. He gave the Broadwood two great
bangs with his clenched first. All was still as the grave. The young
barrister started to his feet.
'I am stark-staring mad,' he cried aloud, 'and no one knows it but
myself. God's worst curse has fallen on me.'
His fingers encountered his watch-chain; instantly he had plucked forth
his watch and held it to his ear. He could hear it ticking.
'I am not deaf,' he said aloud. 'I am only insane. My mind has quitted
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