WEIRD TALES
lice, and while the officers were start¬ ing their investigation, Jordan gave himself up.
He was lodged in the town jail at once, and refused to make any state¬ ment, other than a confession of the crime; and he insisted that he did not want to see any visitors, until finally he asked for me.
I saw him this afternoon, and found him calm and composed, apparently resigned to his fate, and only anxious for justice to take its course as speed¬ ily as possible. I could only mumble some trite remark, and try to avoid his eyes, for the pain in them was too deep for words, a sorrow "which I did not want to see. He sat on his cell cot for a moment, and then said, in a level voice:
“Andrews, my hand struck down Eric Ericson, but I am as innocent of the crime as an unborn child.”
Of course I did not know what to say to this, so I remained silent, wait¬ ing for him to continue. He- reached beneath the mattress of his cot, and brought out some papers, which he
“This is my statement,” he contin¬ ued, quietly. “Read it, Andrews, and do with it as you think best. As for me, I am doomed. Good-bye.”
I have just finished reading the notes that he gave me. I am con¬ vinced of their authenticity, for I am an eye-witness to some of the things with which they deal. Therefore I intend to make them public, even though they may meet with universal disbelief, and I propose to carry the fight for Jordan’s acquittal to the fin¬ ish on the strength of these unprece¬ dented revelations, which show how the circumstances of the crime ab¬ solve him completely of all guilt.
After that I intend to leave this university forever, for it would be im¬ possible for me to stay in surround¬ ings which remind me at every turn of that dreadful thing which sud¬ denly intruded itself into our lives,
to use Jordan’s phrase, “from the very mists of time.”
3. Ms. of Karl Jordan, student in C - University, dated Janu¬
ary 13, 1909.
H ow well I remember the day I met Eric Ericson! I was filled with admiration for his great frame and pleasant open countenance. Some classmate had introduced us, and I smiled with pleasure as I grasped his hand. Imagine my astonishment when I felt the smile congeal into a scowl. Involuntarily my hands clenched, and my breath came quicker. It was like the instinctive reaction of a cat to a dog, and yet I felt no intuition that Ericson was an enemy of mine. I hurried away, as¬ tounded and distressed.
That night I awoke about midnight in a frenzy of rage. I was alternately swept by the fierce desire to face Ericson and fight him, and by a con¬ suming wonder at that desire. The man was only a chance acquaintance —it was ridiculous that I should feel toward him as one Kentucky feudist does toward another, when he had given me absolutely no .cause. For an hour I paced the floor, trying to fathom the reason for my strange, in¬ voluntary feelings, and my equally strange actions.
In the morning, when I awoke, and the cool, fresh air blew in on me, I felt once more at peace with the world. My rage of the night past seemed absurd, far away, and almost unreal. But I happened to encounter Ericson on my way to chapel, and in¬ stantly all my good will was dissi¬ pated. In spite of myself, I gave him an ugly scowl.
So matters went from day to day. Everywhere my unreasonable rage grew more easily inflammable. But the point that frightened me and made me sick at heart was the discov¬ ery which I soon made that it was not I who flared at Ericson so con-
