The Blind Spot | Page 4

morning. If you will allow
me?" He indicated a package. "I think I shall take one of these."
The clerk took up the package, opened the end, and shook out a single cigarette. The man
lit it and, as the smoke poured out of his mouth, held the cigarette tentatively in his
fingers.
"Like it?" It was the clerk who asked.
The other did not answer, his whole face was the expression of having just discovered
one of the senses. He was a splendid man and, if the word may be employed of the
sterner sex, one of beauty. His features were even; that is to be noted, his nose chiselled
straight and to perfection, the eyes of a peculiar sombreness and lustre almost burning, of
a black of such intensity as to verge into red and to be devoid of pupils, and yet, for all of
that, of a glow and softness. After a moment he turned to the clerk.
"You are young, my lad."
"Twenty-one, sir."
"You are fortunate. You live in a wonderful age. It is as wonderful as your tobacco. And
you still have many great things before you."
"Yes, sir."

The man walked on to the forward part of the boat; leaving the youth, who had been in a
sort of daze, watching. But it was not for long. The whole thing had been strange and to
the lad almost inexplicable. The man was not insane, he was certain; and he was just as
sure that he had not been joking. From the start he had been taken by the man's
refinement, intellect and education. He was positive that he had been sincere. Yet--
The ferry detective happened at that moment to be passing. The clerk made an indication
with his thumb.
"That man yonder," he spoke, "the one in black. Watch him." Then he told his story. The
detective laughed and walked forward.
It was a most fortunate incident. It was a strange case. That mere act of the cigar clerk
placed the police on the track and gave to the world the only clue that it holds of the
Blind Spot.
The detective had laughed at the lad's recital--almost any one had a patent for being
queer--and if this gentleman had a whim for a certain brand of humour that was his
business. Nevertheless, he would stroll forward.
The man was not hard to distinguish; he was standing on the forward deck facing the
wind and peering through the mist at the grey, heavy heave of the water. Alongside of
them the dim shadow of a sister ferry screamed its way through the fogbank. That he was
a landsman was evidenced by his way of standing; he was uncertain; at every heave of
the boat he would shift sidewise. An unusually heavy roll caught him slightly off-balance
and jostled him against the detective. The latter held up his hand and caught him by the
arm.
"A bad morning," spoke the officer. "B-r-r-r! Did you notice the Yerbe Buena yonder?
She just grazed us. A bad morning."
The stranger turned. As the detective caught the splendid face, the glowing eyes and the
youthful smile, he started much as had done the cigar clerk. The same effect of the age
melting into youth and--the officer being much more accustomed to reading men-- a
queer sense of latent and potent vision. The eyes were soft and receptive but for all that of
the delicate strength and colour that comes from abnormal intellect. He noted the pupils,
black, glowing, of great size, almost filling the iris and the whole melting into intensity
that verged into red. Either the man had been long without sleep or he was one of unusual
intelligence and vitality.
"A nasty morning," repeated the officer.
"Ah! Er, yes--did you say it was a nasty morning? Indeed, I do not know, sir. However, it
is very interesting."
"Stranger in San Francisco?"
"Well, yes. At least, I have never seen it."

"H-m!" The detective was a bit nonplussed by the man's evident evasion. "Well, if you
are a stranger I suppose it is up to me to come to the defence of my city. This is one of
Frisco's fogs. We have them occasionally. Sometimes they last for days. This one is a low
one. It will lift presently. Then you will see the sun. Have you ever seen Frisco's sun?"
"My dear sir"--this same slow articulation--"I have never seen your sun nor any other."
"Hum!"
It was an answer altogether unexpected. Again the officer found himself gazing into the
strange, refined face and wonderful eyes. The man was not blind, of that he was certain.
Neither was his voice harsh or testy. Rather was it soft and polite, of one merely stating a
fact. Yet how