Rodens Corner | Page 2

an attitude as may be desired. It is, at all events, better than the common attitude of the many, that says, "Let us exchange confidences," leading to the barter of two valueless commodities.
The professor stopped at the door of No. 15, St. Jacob Straat--one of the oldest houses in this old street--and slowly lighted a cigar. There is a shop on the ground-floor of No. 15, where ancient pieces of stove-pipe and a few fire-irons are exposed for sale. Von Holzen, having pushed open the door, stood waiting at the foot of a narrow and grimy staircase. He knew that in such a shop in such a quarter of the town there is always a human spider lurking in the background, who steals out upon any human fly that may pause to look at the wares.
This spider presently appeared--a wizened woman with a face like that of a witch. Von Holzen pointed upward to the room above them. She shook her head regretfully.
"Still alive," she said.
And the professor turned toward the stair, but paused at the bottom step.
"Here," he said, extending his fingers. "Some milk. How much has he had?"
"Two jugs," she replied, "and three jugs of water. One would say he has a fire inside him."
"So he has," said the professor, with a grim smile, as he went upstairs. He ascended slowly, puffing out the smoke of his cigar before him with a certain skill, so that his progress was a form of fumigation. The fear of infection is the only fear to which men will own, and it is hard to understand why this form of cowardice should be less despicable than others. Von Holzen was a German, and that nation combines courage with so deep a caution that mistaken persons sometimes think the former adjunct lacking. The mark of a wound across his cheek told that in his student days this man had, after due deliberation, considered it necessary to fight. Some, looking at Von Holzen's face, might wonder what mark the other student bore as a memento of that encounter.
Von Holzen pushed open a door that stood ajar at the head of the stair, and went slowly into the room, preceded by a puff of smoke. The place was not full of furniture, properly speaking, although it was littered with many household effects which had no business in a bedroom. It was, indeed, used as a storehouse for such wares as the proprietor of the shop only offered to a chosen few. The atmosphere of the room must have been a very Tower of Babel, where strange foreign bacilli from all parts of the world rose up and wrangled in the air.
Upon a sham Empire table, très antique, near the window, stood three water-jugs and a glass of imitation Venetian work. A yellow hand stretching from a dark heap of bedclothes clutched the glass and held it out, empty, when Von Holzen came into the room.
"I have sent for milk," said the professor, smoking hard, and heedful not to look too closely into the dark corner where the bed was situated.
"You are kind," said a voice, and it was impossible to guess whether its tone was sarcastic or grateful.
Von Holzen looked at the empty water-jugs with a smile, and shrugged his shoulders. His intention had perhaps been a kind one. A bad mouth usually indicates a soft heart.
"It is because you have something to gain," said the hollow voice from the bed.
"I have something to gain, but I can do without it," replied Von Holzen, turning to the door and taking a jug of milk from the hand of a child waiting there.
"And the change," he said sharply.
The child laughed cunningly, and held out two small copper coins of the value of half a cent.
Von Holzen filled the tumbler and handed it to the sick man, who a moment later held it out empty.
"You may have as much as you like," said Von Holzen, kindly.
"Will it keep me alive?"
"Nothing can do that, my friend," answered Von Holzen. He looked down at the yellow face peering at him from the darkness. It seemed to be the face of a very aged man, with eyes wide open and blood-shot. A thickness of speech was accounted for by the absence of teeth.
The man laughed gleefully. "All the same, I have lived longer than any of them," he said. How many of us pride ourselves upon possessing an advantage which others never covet!
"Yes," answered Von Holzen, gravely. "How old are you?"
"Nearly thirty-five," was the answer.
Von Holzen nodded, and, turning on his heel, looked thoughtfully out of the window. The light fell full on his face, which would have been a fine one were the mouth hidden. The eyes were dark and steady. A high forehead looked higher by reason of