"
The Fool-Killer turned and walked out of Farroni's.
"Wait here for me," said I, rising; "I must speak to that man. Had
you no answer for him? Because you are a fool must you die like a
mouse under his foot? Could you not utter one squeak in your own
defence?
"You are drunk," said Kerner, heartlessly. "No one addressed me."
"The destroyer of your mind," said I, "stood above you just now and
marked you for his victim. You are not blind or deaf."
"I recognized no such person," said Kerner. "I have seen no one
but you at this table. Sit down. Hereafter you shall have no more
absinthe drips."
"Wait here," said I, furious; "if you don't care for your own life, I
will save it for you."
I hurried out and overtook the man in gray half-way down the block.
He looked as I had seen him in my fancy a thousand times--truculent,
gray and awful. He walked with the white oak staff, and but for the
street-sprinkler the dust would have been flying under his tread.
I caught him by the sleeve and steered him to a dark angle of a
building. I knew he was a myth, and I did not want a cop to see me
conversing with vacancy, for I might land in Bellevue minus my silver
matchbox and diamond ring.
"Jesse Holmes," said I, facing him with apparent bravery, "I know
you. I have heard of you all my life. I know now what a scourge
you have been to your country. Instead of killing fools you have
been murdering the youth and genius that are necessary to make a
people live and grow great.
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