The Shape of Fear [14]
figure was a chest of dark wood, with curiously wrought hasps. From this depended a stout strap by which it could be carried over the shoulders. John Billings stared in, fascinated by the poor little thing with its head sadly drooping upon its breast, its thin blue hands relaxed upon its lap, and its whole attitude so suggestive of hunger, loneliness, and fatigue, that he made up his mind he would collect no fare from it. "It will need its nickel for breakfast," he said to himself. "The company can stand this for once. Or, come to think of it, I might celebrate my hard luck. Here's to the brotherhood of failures!" And he took a nickel from one pocket of his great-coat and dropped it in another, ringing his bell punch to record the transfer. The car plunged along in the darkness, and the rain beat more viciously than ever in his face. The night was full of the rushing sound of the storm. Owing to some change of tem- perature the glass of the car became obscured so that the young conductor could no longer see the little figure distinctly, and he grew anxious about the child. "I wonder if it's all right," he said to him- self. "I never saw living creature sit so still." He opened the car door, intending to speak with the child, but just then something went wrong with the lights. There was a blue and green flickering, then darkness, a sudden halt- ing of the car, and a great sweep of wind and rain in at the door. When, after a moment, light and motion reasserted themselves, and Billings had got the door together, he turned to look at the little passenger. But the car was empty. It was a fact. There was no child there -- not even moisture on the seat where she had been sitting. "Bill," said he, going to the front door and addressing the driver, "what became of that little kid in the old cloak?" "I didn't see no kid," said Bill, crossly. "For Gawd's sake, close the door, John, and git that draught off my back." "Draught!" said John, indignantly, "where's the draught?" "You've left the hind door open," growled Bill, and John saw him shivering as a blast struck him and ruffled the fur on his bear-skin coat. But the door was not open, and yet John had to admit to himself that the car seemed filled with wind and a strange coldness. However, it didn't matter. Nothing mat- tered! Still, it was as well no doubt to look under the seats just to make sure no little crouching figure was there, and so he did. But there was nothing. In fact, John said to himself, he seemed to be getting expert in finding nothing where there ought to be some- thing. He might have stayed in the car, for there was no likelihood of more passengers that evening, but somehow he preferred going out where the rain could drench him and the wind pommel him. How horribly tired he was! If there were only some still place away from the blare of the city where a man could lie down and listen to the sound of the sea or the storm -- or if one could grow suddenly old and get through with the bother of living -- or if -- The car gave a sudden lurch as it rounded a curve, and for a moment it seemed to be a mere chance whether Conductor Billings would stay on his platform or go off under those fire-spitting wheels. He caught in- stinctively at his brake, saved himself, and stood still for a moment, panting. "I must have dozed," he said to himself. Just then, dimly, through the blurred win- dow, he saw again the little figure of the child, its head on its breast as before, its blue hands lying in its lap and the curious box beside it. John Billings felt a coldness beyond the coldness of the night run through his blood. Then, with a half-stifled cry, he threw back the door, and made a desperate spring at the corner where the eerie thing sat. And he touched the green carpeting on the seat, which was quite dry and warm, as if no dripping, miserable little wretch had ever crouched there. He rushed to the front door. "Bill," he roared, "I want to know about that kid." "What kid?" "The same kid! The wet one with the old coat and the box with iron hasps! The one that's been sitting