Double Trouble | Page 3

Minnie's side, and took the one by herself. This seemed abnormal to
Mrs. Hunter, whose egotism had its center in her daughter; but those
who remembered the respectful terror with which he regarded women
between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five failed to see exceptional
conduct in this. His lawyer, Judge Blodgett, with whom he went into
the buffet at about seven, found him in conversation with these two
ladies.
"He seemed embarrassed," said the judge, "and was blushing. Mrs.
Hunter was explaining the new style in ladies' figures, and asking him
if he didn't think Minnie was getting much plumper. As soon as he saw
me he yelled: 'Hello, Blodgett! Come into the buffet! I want to see you
about some legal matters.' He excused himself to the ladies, and we
went into the buffet."
"What legal matters did he place before you?" said his interlocutor.
"Two bottles of beer," said the judge, "and a box of cigars. Then he
talked Browning to me until 9:03, when he got off at Elm Springs
Junction, to take the Limited north. He was wrong on Browning, but
otherwise all right."
It was, therefore, at 9:03, or 9:05 (for the engineer's report showed the
train two minutes late out of Elm Springs Junction), that Florian
Amidon became the sole occupant of this remote country railway
platform. He sat on a trunkful of photographer's supplies, with a
suit-case and a leather bag at his back. It was the evening of June
twenty-seventh, 1896. All about the lonely station the trees crowded
down to the right of way, and rustled in a gentle evening breeze.
Somewhere off in the wood, his ear discerned the faint hoot of an owl.
Across the track in a pool under the shadow of the semaphore, he heard
the full orchestra of the frogs, and saw reflected in the water the last
exquisite glories of expiring day lamped by one bright star. Leaning
back, he partly closed his eyelids, and wondered why so many rays
came from the star--with the vague wonder of drowsiness, which comes
because it has been in the habit of coming from one's earliest childhood.
The star divided into two, and all its beams swam about while his gaze

remained fixed, and nothing seemed quite in the focus of his vision.
Putting out his hand, presently, he touched a window, damp with vapor
and very cold. On the other side he felt a coarse curtain, and where the
semaphore stood, appeared a perpendicular bar of dim light. A
vibratory sound somewhere near made him think that the owls and
frogs had begun snoring. He heard horrible hissings and the distant
clangor of a bell; and then all the platform heaved and quaked under
him as if it were being dragged off into the woods. He sprang upward,
received a blow upon his head, rolled off to the floor, and----
Stood in the middle of a sleeping-car, clad only in pajamas; and a
scholarly-looking negro porter looked down in his face, laying gentle
hands upon him, and addressing him in soothing tones.
"Huht yo' haid, Mr. Brassfield? Kind o' dreamin', wasn't yo', suh?" said
the porter. "Bettah tuhn in again, suh. I'll wake yo' fo' N'Yohk. Yo' kin
sleep late on account of the snow holdin' us back. Jes' lay down, Mr.
Brassfield; it's only 3:35."
A lady's eye peeped forth from the curtain of a near-by berth, and
vanished instantly. Mr. Amidon, seeing it, plunged back into the shelter
from which he had tumbled, and lay there trembling--trembling,
forsooth, because, instead of summer, it seemed winter; for Elm
Springs Junction, it appeared to be a moving train on some unknown
road, going God knew where; and for Florian Amidon, in his outing
suit, it had the appearance of a somnambulistic wretch in his
night-clothes, who was addressed by the unfamiliar porter as Mr.
Brassfield!

[1] Editorial Note: As reflecting light on the personal characteristics of
Mr. Florian Amidon, whose remarkable history is the turning-point of
this narrative, we append a brief note by his college classmate and
lifelong acquaintance, the well-known Doctor J. Galen Urquhart, of
Hazelhurst, Wisconsin. The note follows:

"At the time when the following story opens, Mr. Florian Amidon was
about thirty years of age. Height, five feet ten and three-quarters inches;
weight, one hundred and seventy-eight pounds. For general
constitutional and pathological facts, see Sheets 2 to 7, inclusive,
attached hereto. Subject well educated, having achieved distinction in
linguistic, philological and literary studies in his university. (See Sheet
1, attached.) Neurologically considered, family history of subject (see
Sheets 8 and 10) shows nothing abnormal, except that his father, a
chemist, wrote an essay opposing the atomic theory, and a cousin is an
epileptic. I regard these facts as significant. Volitional and inhibitory