Page:The Man Who Died Twice (1924).djvu/83

 He groped and tottered into the dark hall,

Crying aloud for God, or man, or devil,

For paper—not for food. It may have been

The devil who heard him first and made of him,

For sport, the large and sprawling obstacle

They found there at the bottom of the stairs.

A fortnight after that, Fernando Nash

Lay contemplating with a special envy

A screen between him and another bed

That would anon be vacant. For some time,

So he had learned, the probabilities

Had seen for him a similar departure,

But seeing indifferently at the last hour

That some residual and peculiar service

Awaited the survival of as much

As was remaining of him to survive,