Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Pilar Somoza and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. THE MIRACLE MAN BY FRANK L. PACKARD AUTHOR OF GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN, ETC. NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS 1914 TO NEARLY EVERYBODY CONTENTS CHAPTER I THE "ROOST" II A NEW CULT III NEEDLEY IV THE PATRIARCH V A STRANGE CONVERSATION VI OFFICIALLY ENDORSED VII THE PATRIARCH'S GRAND NIECE VIII IN WHICH THE BAIT IS NIBBLED IX THE PILGRIMAGE X THE MIRACLE XI THE AFTERMATH XII "SAID THE SPIDER TO THE FLY" XIII REAL MONEY XIV KNOTTING THE STRINGS XV THE MIRACLE OVERDONE XVI A FLY IN THE OINTMENT XVII IN WHICH HELENA TAKES A RIDE XVIII THE BOOMERANG XIX THE SANCTUARY OF DARKNESS XX TO THE VICTOR ARE THE SPOILS XXI FACE VALUE XXII THE SHRINE XXIII THE WAY OUT XXIV VALE! THE MIRACLE MAN --I-- THE "ROOST" He was a misshapen thing, bulking a black blotch in the night at the entrance of the dark alleyway--like some lurking creature in its lair. He neither stood, nor kneeled, nor sat--no single word would describe his posture--he combined all three in a sort of repulsive, formless heap. The Flopper moved. He came out from the alleyway onto the pavement, into the lurid lights of the Bowery, flopping along knee to toe on one leg, dragging the other leg behind him--and the leg he dragged was limp and wobbled from the knee. One hand sought the pavement to balance himself and aid in locomotion; the other arm, the right, was twisted out from his body in the shape of an inverted V, the palm of his hand, with half curled, contorted fingers, almost touching his chin, as his head sagged at a stiff, set angle into his right shoulder. Hair straggled from the brim of a nondescript felt hat into his eyes, and curled, dirty and unshorn, around his ears and the nape of his neck. His face was covered with a stubble of four days' growth, his body with rags--a coat; a shirt, the button long since gone at the neck; and trousers gaping in wide rents at the knees, and torn at the ankles where they flapped around miss-mated socks and shoes. A hundred, two hundred people passed him in a block, the populace of the Bowery awakening into fullest life at midnight, men, women and children--the dregs of the city's scum--the aristocracy of upper Fifth Avenue, of Riverside Drive, aping Bohemianism, seeking the lure of the Turkey Trot, transported from the Barbary Coast of San Francisco. Rich and poor, squalor and affluence, vice and near-vice surged by him, voicing their different interests with laughter and sobs and soft words and blasphemy, and, in a sort of mocking chorus, the composite effect rose and fell in pitiful, jangling discords.