“I missed the hour of your release,” he said, “but I was at the Vindicator Restaurant. It isn’t illusions—for us. His tone changed, becoming a little more moderate. “Why, among other things, did I put my knuckles in his neck—deliberately to hurt him?” She tried to sound the humorous note. In a fit of despondency, superinduced by drunkenness, he made away with himself; and when the body was discovered, after a lapse of some months, such was the impression produced by the spectacle —such the alarm occasioned by the crazy state of the building, and, above all, by the terror inspired by strange and unearthly noises heard during the night, which were, of course, attributed to the spirit of the suicide, that the place speedily enjoyed the reputation of being haunted, and was, consequently, entirely abandoned. "We're all damaged—we've all got broken pates," cried a dozen voices. We have to get them to let us in for the profits of their business, and in return we ask them to—dinner.
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