THE HIDDEN PLACES
Frontispiece. See page 128.
THE
HIDDEN PLACES
By BERTRAND W. SINCLAIR
"Big Timber," "Poor Man's Rock," etc.
A.L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York
Printed in U.S.A.
By Little, Brown, and Company.
Published January, 1922.
Printed in the United States of America
THE HIDDEN PLACES
CHAPTER I
Hollister stood in the middle of his room, staring at the door withoutseeing the door, without seeing the bulky shadow his body cast on thewall in the pale glow of a single droplight. He was seeing everythingand seeing nothing; acutely, quiveringly conscious and yet obliviousto his surroundings by reason of the poignancy of his thought.
A feeling not far short of terror had folded itself about him like ashrouding fog.
It had not seized him unaware. For weeks he had seen it looming overhim, and he had schooled himself to disregard a great deal which hisperception was too acute to misunderstand. He had struggleddesperately against the unescapable, recognizing certain significantfacts and in the same breath denying their accumulated force in sheerself-defense.
A small dressing-table topped by an oval mirror stood against the wallbeside his bed. Hollister took his unseeing gaze off the door with astart, like a man withdrawing his mind from wandering in far places.He sat down before the dressing-table and forced himself to look[Pg 4]steadfastly, appraisingly, at the reflection of his face in themirror—that which had once been a presentable man's countenance.
He shuddered and dropped his eyes. This was a trial he seldom venturedupon. He could not bear that vision long. No one could. That was thefearful implication which made him shrink. He, Robert Hollister, inthe flush of manhood, with a body whose symmetry and vigor other menhad envied, a mind that functioned alertly, a spirit as nearlyindomitable as the spirit of man may be, was like a leper among hisown kind; he had become a something that filled other men with pityingdismay when they looked at him, that made women avert their gaze andwithdraw from him in spite of pity.
Hollister snapped out the light and threw himself on his bed. He hadknown physical suffering, the slow, aching hours of tortured flesh,bodily pain that racked him until he had wished for death as a welcomerelief. But that had been when the flame of vitality burned low, whenthe will-to-live had been sapped by bodily stress.
Now the mere animal instinct to live was a compelling force withinhim. He was young and strong, aching with his desire for life in itsfullest sense. And he did not know how he was going to live and endurethe m