A silent shod waiter came and placed the coffee things at his elbow.  He didn’t heed.  The waiter poured a demi-tasse, and inquiringly lifted a lump of sugar in the silver tongs.  Still Mr. Grimm didn’t heed.  At last the waiter deposited the sugar on the edge of the fragile saucer, and moved away as silently as he had come.  A newspaper which Mr. Grimm had placed on the end of the table when he sat down, rattled a little as a breeze from the open window caught it, then the top sheet slid off and fell to the floor.  Mr. Grimm was still staring out the window.

Slowly the room behind him was thinning of its crowd as the theater-bound diners went out in twos and threes.  The last of these disappeared finally, and save for Mr. Grimm there were not more than a dozen persons left in the place.  Thus for a few minutes, and then the swinging doors leading from the street clicked, and a gentleman entered.  He glanced around, as if seeking a seat near a window, then moved along in Mr. Grimm’s direction, between the rows of tables.  His gaze lingered on Mr. Grimm for an instant, and when he came opposite he stooped and picked up the fallen newspaper sheet.

“Your paper?” he inquired courteously.

Mr. Grimm was still gazing dreamily out of the window.

“I beg pardon,” insisted the new-comer pleasantly.  He folded the paper once and replaced it on the table.  One hand lingered for just the fraction of a moment above Mr. Grimm’s coffee-cup.

Aroused by the remark, Mr. Grimm glanced around.

“Oh, thank you,” he apologized hastily.  “I didn’t hear you at first.  Thank you.”

The new-comer nodded, smiled and passed on, taking a seat two or three tables down.

Apparently this trifling courtesy had broken the spell of reverie, for Mr. Grimm squared around to the table again, drew his coffee-cup toward him, and dropped in the single lump of sugar.  He idly stirred it for a moment, as his eyes turned again toward the open window, then he lifted the tiny cup and emptied it.

Again he sat motionless for a long time, and thrice the new-comer, only a few feet away, glanced at him narrowly.  And now, it seemed, a peculiar drowsiness was overtaking Mr. Grimm.  Once he caught himself nodding and raised his head with a jerk.  Then he noticed that the arc lights in the street were wobbling curiously, and he fell to wondering why that single flame sparkled at the apex of the capitol dome.  Things around him grew hazy, vague, unreal, and then, as if realizing that something was the matter with him, he came to his feet.

He took one step forward into the space between the tables, reeled, attempted to steady himself by holding on to a chair, then everything grew black about him, and he pitched forward on the floor.  His face was dead white; his fingers moved a little, nervously, weakly, then they were still.

Several people rose at the sound of the falling body, and the new-comer hurried forward.  His coat sleeve caught the empty demi-tasse, as he stooped, and swept it to the floor, where it was shattered.  The head waiter and another came, pell-mell, and those diners who had risen came more slowly.