"Oh, you fool!" I shook myself free of
his hold. "How did you get out?"
"I don't know," he panted. "They let me go--that is, as soon as I saw
that I was standing up there before them all, I jumped off the stage and
bolted. Whatever made me do it? My God, what made me do it? I heard a
shout. I think they are after me."
I hailed a passing cab and shoved Barber inside, and then got in
myself. I gave the cabman a fictitious address in Kensington.
"Yes," I said fiercely. "What made you do it?"
He was bunched in a corner of the cab, shuddering like a man who has
just had some great shock, or who has been acting under the influence of
a drug which has evaporated and left him helpless. His words came in
gasps.
"If you can tell me that!--God, I'm frightened! I'm frightened! I must
be crazy. Whatever made me do it? If they hear of it at the office I'll
lose my job."
"They'll hear of it right enough, my boy," I sneered, "and a good many
other people too. You can't do these little games with impunity."
I caught sight of the clock at Hyde Park corner. It was near a quarter
to ten.
"Why," I said, "you must have been up there over twenty minutes. Think
of that!"
"Don't be so hard on me," said Barber miserably. "I couldn't help it."
And he added in a low voice: "It was the _Other_.
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