Chapter 14
"The currents of air in the upper regions first accelerated and then retarded the progress of the vaporous island. It seemed to stop; then it hung for an instant directly on the lower limb of the great ball of light. A sensation of intolerable cold pervaded my entire body. Involuntarily I shut my eyes.
"I forced myself to look. The cloud had disappeared. Its imponderable essence had been absorbed into the clear ether as a drop of water sizzles into nothingness on a red-hot stove. The sunlight, shining through the third bull's-eye from the bottom, was instantly transformed into a single concentrated beam. The heat-ray impinged upon the boss of fusible metal. I saw the alloy begin to melt. I turned and ran into the other room.
"Twenty minutes of silence and then I re-entered. I was horribly afraid, but he sat there quiet and still. I unwound the cord and threw it out of the window. It was clouding over in earnest now. These March days are so changeable.
"It is close to two o'clock, and I must be getting ready to depart. I have set the clock-case out in the passageway, and the lids and screws are in readiness. The expressman will doubtless be punctual. He will carry the case down-stairs and load it on his wagon. I shall be delivered in due course at my destination. What is it to be? Well, I shall have plenty of time in which to reflect upon the possibilities of the journey that lies before me.
"One moment in which to seal up these notes, together with the bundle of securities. Fortunately, I have a special-delivery stamp in my pocket, and I can post the packet in the mail-chute. Best wishes, my dear Thorp, for the future happiness of yourself and your charming wife. You have now given a hostage to fortune and will no longer care to sail on uncertain seas. But the Wanderlust in my blood seems to be ineradicable. Again the gates of chance are opening before me and I am eager to enter in. Good-bye."
Here the record ends abruptly. And there has been no sequel. Not the slightest sound nor sign has been vouchsafed from the void. He who was Esper Indiman is gone, like a stone dropped into the gulf, and I have lost something that is not easily replaced--a friend. But since it is his wish, there is nothing more to be said. He may return--a message may come--
The gates of chance! Well, it is exactly a year and a day since that eventful afternoon when Esper Indiman's visiting-card was thrust into my unconscious hand. I have travelled along some strange ways in the course of that twelvemonth, and henceforth I shall be content to trudge along the common high-road of life. The gates of chance--for me they are closed forever. But I look over at my wife's dear face and know that it is better so.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Gates of Chance, by Van Tassel Sutphen