"Several days passed, but Lucien did not come near me. I went to his place once or twice, but the door was locked. Had the devil carried him off bodily? Or had this strange and inexplicable occurrence robbed him of his sanity, and robbed me of his friendship and his excellent whisky?
"After three useless attempts to find him at home, and after writing him a letter which he did not answer, I gave up Lucien without any further attempt to understand his enigmatical behavior.
A short time after, I left for my home without having seen or heard anything more of him.
. . . . .
"Months passed. I remained at home, and one evening when, during the course of a gay party, the conversation came around to the subject of mysticism and occult occurrences, I dished up my story of the enigmatical manuscript. The Unknown, the Occult, was the rage just then, and my story was received with great applause and called forth numerous quotations as to 'more things in heaven and earth.' I came to think so much of it myself that I wrote it out and sent it to Professor Flammarion, who was just then making a study of the Unknown, which he preserved in his later book 'L'Inconnu.'
"The occupying myself with the story brought my mind around again to memories of Lucien. One day, I saw a notice in Le Figaro to the effect that his book, 'The Force of the Wind,' had appeared in a second large edition, and had aroused much attention, particularly in spiritualistic circles. I seemed to see him again before me, with his long nervous neck, which was so expressive. The vision of this neck rose up before me whenever I drank the same sort of whisky that I had drunk so often with him, and the longing to hear something more of my lost friend came over me. I sat down one evening when in a sentimental mood, and wrote to him, asking him to tell me something of himself and to send me his book.
"A week later I received the little book and the following letter which I have here in my pocket. It is somewhat crumpled, for Ihave read it several times. But no matter. I will read it to you now, if you will pardon my awkward translating of the French original.
"Here it is:
"DEAR FRIEND:
"Many thanks for your letter. Here is the book. I have to thank you also that you did not lay my behavior of your last days in Paris up against me. It must have seemed strange to you. I will try to explain it.
"I have been nervous from childhood. The fact that most of my books have treated of fantastic subjects,--somewhat in the manner of Edgar Allan Poe--has made me more susceptible for all that world which lies beyond and about the world of every-day life. I have sought after,--and yet feared--the mystical; cool and lucid as Ican be at times, I have always had an inclination for the enigmatical, the Unknown.
"But the first thing that ever happened in my life that I could not explain or understand was the affair of the manuscript. You remember the day I stood in your room? I must have looked the picture of misery. The affair had played more havoc with my nerves than you can very well understand. Your mockery hurt me, and yet under all I felt ashamed of my own thoughts concerning this foolish occurrence. I could not explain the phenomenon, and I shivered at the things that it suggested to me. In this condition, which lasted several weeks, I could not bear to see you or anyone else, and I was impolite enough even to leave your letter unanswered.
"The book appeared and made a hit, since that sort of thing was the center of interest just then. But almost a month passed before Icould arouse myself from that condition of fear and--I had almost said, softening of the brain--which prevented my enjoyment of my success.
"Then the explanation came. Thanks to this occurrence I know now that I shall never again be in danger of being 'haunted.'
"And I know now that Chance can bring about stranger happenings than can any fancied visitations from the spirit world. Here you have the story of this 'mystic' occurrence, which came near endangering my sanity, and which turns out to be a chance combination of a gust of wind, a sudden downpour of rain, and the strange elements in the character of our little friend Adolphe the printer's boy.
