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CHAPTER XIV.
After the Time Traveler's Story.
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HERE was a momentary stillness. Then chairs began to creak and shoes to scrape upon the carpet. I took my eyes off the Time Traveler's face and looked round at his audience. They were in the dark and little spots of color swam before them. The Medical Man seemed absorbed in the contemplation of our host. The Editor was looking hard at the end of his cigar—the sixth. The Journalist fumbled for his watch. The others as far as I remember were motionless.
The Editor stood up with a sigh.
"What a pity it is you're not a writer of stories!" he said, putting
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