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diff --git a/40416-8.txt b/40416-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6f67047..0000000 --- a/40416-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6895 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Rest Hollow Mystery, by Rebecca N. Porter - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Rest Hollow Mystery - -Author: Rebecca N. Porter - -Release Date: August 5, 2012 [EBook #40416] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REST HOLLOW MYSTERY *** - - - - -Produced by Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - THE REST HOLLOW MYSTERY - - BY REBECCA N. PORTER - - - NEW YORK - THE CENTURY CO. - 1922 - - Copyright, 1922, by - THE CENTURY CO. - - Printed in U. S. A. - - - - - TO MY BROTHER - WILLIAM STRATTON PORTER - - That ideal reader of mystery stories--with - the ardor to pursue, the faith to believe - and the magnanimity to guess wrong - - - - -THE REST HOLLOW MYSTERY - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -Kenwick himself had no recollection of the accident. But he knew that -there must have been one, for when he recovered consciousness, his -clothes were full of burrs, his hat was badly crushed, and there was a -violent throbbing in one of his legs. - -With both hands gripping the aching thigh in a futile effort to soothe -its pain, he dragged himself into the clearing and looked about. It was -one of those narrow, wooded mountain ravines that in the West are -classed as cañons. Back of him rose a succession of sage-covered slopes, -bleak, wintry, hostile. In front was a precipitous cliff studded with -dwarf madrone trees and the twisted manzanita. Overhead the bare -distorted sycamore boughs lashed themselves together and moaned a dreary -monotone to the accompaniment of a keen November wind. No sign of autumn -lingered on the landscape, and the shed leaves formed a moldy carpet -underfoot. The cañon was redolent with the odor of damp timber and -decaying vegetation. - -Kenwick buttoned his heavy overcoat about him and limped painfully -toward the cliff, keeping as nearly as possible a straight line from his -starting-point. Although his surroundings were totally unfamiliar his -mind was clear. But he had that curious sensation of a man who has slept -all night in a strange bed, and in the first moment of wakening is -unable to adjust himself to his environment. While he groped his way -through the tangled underbrush his memory struggled to clear a passage -back to the present. - -At the foot of the cliff he stopped short, staring in horror at a spot a -few paces ahead of him. A scrub madrone had been torn from the side of -the ravine and had fallen to the bottom of the cañon, its mutilated -roots stretching skyward like the grotesque claws of some prehistoric -animal. The force which had torn it from its moorings had scarred the -slope with other evidences of disaster; a limb lopped off here, a mass -of brush ripped away there. A glistening object caught his eye. He -stooped laboriously and picked it up, then dropped it, shuddering. It -was a triangle of broken glass spattered with blood. - -For half an hour he poked around in the brush searching for, yet -dreading to find, a more gruesome object. Perhaps the driver had not -been killed after all, he reassured himself. As he dimly remembered him, -he was a friendly sort of fellow whom he had engaged to drive him out to -the Raeburn place. As he climbed the steep hill now Kenwick tried to -remember what they had been talking about just before this thing -happened, but the effort made his head ache and landed him nowhere. A -more vital conjecture was concerned with how long he had been lying at -the foot of the ravine and why no one had come to his rescue. - -When he gained the road there was nobody in sight. It was a splendidly -paved bit of country boulevard curving out of sight into what Kenwick -told himself must be the land of dreams and romance. He turned to the -left and started to walk, aimlessly, hopping part of the time to save -his aching leg. Surely some one would overtake him in a car soon and -offer assistance. He had dragged himself over half a mile, stimulated by -this hope, when he sighted a house set far back from the highway behind -a vista of date-palms. He struggled up to the entrance and gazed through -the bars of a tall iron gate. It was locked. And, as an extra -precaution against intrusion, a heavy iron chain was swung across the -outside. Through the trees the house was plainly visible, a colossal -concrete structure with stone trimmings flanked on one side by a sturdy -combination tank-house and garage. About the whole place there was an -aristocratic, exclusive dignity that reminded Kenwick of one of the -great English estates that he had once visited during a convalescent -furlough spent near London. It was more like a castle than a private -residence, with its high stone wall covered by dank clinging vines. The -very trees that bordered the driveway had an air of aloofness as though -they had severed all relationship with the rest of nature's family. It -was inconceivable, Kenwick told himself, that guests had ever been -entertained, unbidden, in that mansion. And yet it was here that he must -apply for help. - -Strength had deserted him. Courage had deserted him. Even self-respect -was fast slipping away. Desperation alone remained; desperation lashed -almost to fury by the agony in his throbbing leg. He or his companion -must have been drunk, hideously drunk, to have met with such a -mischance. And yet where could they have purchased a drink? He himself -hated liquor, and he had no recollection of having been persuaded into -illicit conviviality. As he searched for an opening in the stone wall, -he took hasty stock of himself. The fur-collared overcoat would give him -a certain social status in the eyes of this householder. His hat, though -bearing the mark of riotous adventure, was obviously the hat of a -gentleman. His shoes subscribed liberally to this classification and his -dark broadcloth suit was conclusive. He felt in his pocket. There was -neither watch nor money. But he could mention Raeburn's name. The -wealthy New Yorker who was to have been his host undoubtedly stood high -in this community. - -His search along the wall brought him at last to a broken ledge of rock -which might serve as a stepping-stone. He drew in his breath sharply, -dreading the pain of the stupendous effort that he was about to make. -Then he placed his sound foot on the ledge and dragged himself over the -enclosure. - -If the place had looked inhospitable from the outside it was even more -formidable viewed from within. Only that portion of the acreage which -immediately surrounded the house was under cultivation. On either side -of this a wide expanse of eucalyptus forest sloped away from the road. -They were half-grown saplings and the blue-gray of their foliage blended -with subtle harmony into the somber winter landscape. - -"Lord! What a lonely spot!" Kenwick muttered as he followed the driveway -around to the side of the house. "Good God! Anything could happen in a -place like this!" - -The shallow stone steps echoed beneath his feet, and the door-bell, -tinkling in some remote region, gave back a ghostly, deserted sound. Two -more trials with the electric button convinced Kenwick that the place -was untenanted. He made a shade of his two hands and peered into the -plate-glass window that gave on the front porch. - -What he saw was an elegantly appointed dining-room furnished in old -mahogany and dull blue hangings. There were carved candlesticks on the -sideboard, and in the center of the bare dining-table a cut-glass bowl -full of English walnuts. The somber high-backed chairs ranged along the -wall seemed to the man outside to be guarding the room like a body of -solemn gendarmes. Slowly he turned, descended the shallow steps, and -started around to the rear of the house. There must be some servant, he -reasoned, some caretaker or gardener who could administer temporary -relief and direct him to his destination. The ache in his leg was -becoming unbearable. It was impossible for him to go on unaided. However -reluctant this exclusive home might be to admit a stranger within its -gates, it must conform to the laws of decency and bind up his wounds. - -On the side path, bordered with monster oleanders and dusty miller, he -stopped. The door of the garage was open. It seemed safe to assume that -the chauffeur or caretaker lived in the commodious quarters overhead. -Hope glimmered at last through the night of black despair. Almost blind -with pain now Kenwick staggered toward that open door. In the dim light -of late afternoon he made out a small room filled with garden tools. -Beyond, through an inside window, was revealed a handsome black -limousine standing motionless in the gathering darkness. - -But the building was deserted. It was when he realized this that the -dusk suddenly enveloped the man peering desperately in at the threshold. -Through a bleak mist he saw the lawn-mower, garden hose, and -beetle-black car dance together in hideous nightmare. And then the room -full of garden tools rushed toward him. He felt the wheels of that -sinister black car grinding into his neck, and he knew no more. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -When Kenwick came to himself he was lying on a cavernous divan with a -gorgeous Indian blanket over him and a tabouret drawn close to his side. -In a far corner of the room a rose-shaded lamp was burning. It gave to -the handsome drawing-room a rosy glow that seemed to envelop its every -object in subtle mystery. For long minutes the sick man stared about the -apartment without trying to move. Slowly the events of the last few -hours came back to him. Very cautiously, like a man who has just -recovered his sight after prolonged blindness, he felt his way back -along the path that he had just traveled. It brought him at last to the -door of the garage and the beetle-black limousine grinding over his -neck. - -He reached out and touched the spindle-legged table at his side. On it -were his collar, tie, and a long-stemmed glass partly full of whisky. -Very slowly he drained the remaining contents. Then he sat upright and -gently touched his injured leg. It felt hard and tight. Whoever had done -the bandaging had made up in force what he had lacked in skill, but the -numbness of a too tight wrapping was an intense relief after his hour of -agony. He limped across the long room to the entrance-hall and stood at -length in the doorway of the mahogany-furnished dining-room guarded by -the row of gendarme chairs. - -This last evidence was conclusive. In some way he had gained admittance -to the house with the barred gate. Evidently there had been some one -close at hand when he fainted; some one who had authority to carry him -through those impregnable doors. The thought gave him an uncanny -feeling. But where was this gum-shod combination of mystery and mercy? -In the curious way that the senses convey such intelligence he felt that -the house was empty. - -"Well, if I've got to stay here alone all night," he said to himself, -"I'm going to see what this place looks like." - -And so, using two light willow chairs as crutches, he started upon a -slow tour of exploration. Through the swinging doors he passed into a -butler's pantry and then into the kitchen. It was a large cheerful room -with laundry in the rear. But although there were no soiled dishes -about, it had an undefinable air of untidiness and neglect. A crumpled -dish-towel was under the table. The sink was grimy and the stove -spotted with grease. Even to Kenwick's inexpert eyes the room appeared -somehow dirty and repellant. - -He set the wine-glass that he had brought from the front room on the -table and tried the back door. It was locked on the outside. Every door -and window that he had tested so far was similarly barred. With a vague -feeling of misgiving he returned to the drawing-room. It was very late. -The alabaster clock on the mantel was ticking its way toward midnight. -He felt ravenously hungry but shrank from touching any of the food upon -the pantry shelves. He decided that until his host arrived he would sit -in the den, a companionable little room, whose deep leather chairs -invited him. The porte-cochère was on this side of the house and the -home-comers, whoever they were, would doubtless enter there. No fire -burned on the hearth but the house was comfortably and evenly warm. It -was apparent that the caretaker was an expert furnace-man. - -Kenwick was about to sink into one of the big chairs opposite the huge -antlers of a deer when suddenly an object caught his eye. He struggled -over to the telephone and took down the receiver. For five minutes he -stood there holding it to his ear listening for the familiar hum that -assures telephonic health. But the thing was dead. As he hung it up, it -struck Kenwick all at once that it might be disconnected. The idea -brought him a sense of unaccountable resentment. "My Lord!" he muttered. -"I might as well be in a jail!" - -He sank into one of the Morris-chairs and gazed out into the blackness -of night. He could, he reflected, smash a window and make his escape -that way. But why escape from comfort into bleakness? Jail or no jail he -was lucky to have found such a haven. By morning somebody would have -arrived and he could be taken to old man Raeburn's. He was probably -worrying about him at this very moment. "I didn't break into this place -though," Kenwick reassured himself. "Somebody in authority brought me -in, so there's nothing criminal about staying on. And since there had to -be an invader, better myself than some unscrupulous beggar who might -make off with the family plate." - -The reading-lamp upon the table was equipped with a dimmer. He drew the -chain half its length, pulled the Indian blanket over him, and, in spite -of the dull ache in his leg, was soon wrapped in the dreamless slumber -of utter exhaustion. - -When he awoke it was broad daylight and the dimly burning bulb of the -reading-lamp shone with a futile bleary light. He extinguished it and -drew up the window-shades. Sleep had refreshed him and he felt healthily -hungry. The pain in his leg returned with almost overwhelming force when -he attempted to walk, but a sharp-edged appetite impelled him to seek -the pantry. He found the dining-room wrapped in the same somber -stillness that it had worn the night before, the bowl of walnuts showing -dully in the center of the table. From the kitchen table where he had -set it the night before the empty wine-glass stared back at him. But -there was something reassuring in its presence. It seemed to give mute -evidence of the reality of this adventure. - -From the butler's pantry Kenwick brought a can of coffee and half a loaf -of bread. "Whatever my bill in this caravansary amounts to," he told -himself as he measured out the coffee, "it's going to include breakfast. -I've decided to sign up on the American plan." - -On his trip back to the pantry he discovered upon the ledge inside the -window half a dozen fresh eggs. They gave him a little shock of -surprise. For he was certain that they had not been there before. The -window was small and narrow, much too tiny to admit a human body. But -whoever was detailed to take care of this place was apparently on the -job. Kenwick resolved to be on the alert for the egg-hunter. In twenty -minutes he had cooked himself an ample breakfast and carried it into the -dining-room on an impressive silver tray. Memories of long-ago camping -trips with his elder brother in the Adirondacks recurred to him as he -ate. Everett was a master camper but had always hated to cook. In order -to even things he had been willing to do much more than his share of the -rougher work. Now as Kenwick drank his coffee and ate the perfectly -browned toast and fluffy eggs, he blessed those camping trips and the -education which they had given him. - -And then his memory wandered from the wholesome sanity of those days to -the first dreadful months of the war. From the chaos of that era, one -night leaped out at him. It was the night that he had parted with -Everett at the old Kenwick house, the house that had been the Kenwicks' -for sixty years. Perhaps the stark simplicity of that scene, shorn of -objective emotion by the presence of Everett's wife, was the very thing -that enabled him now to extricate it from the tangle of days that -preceded and followed it. Everett had laid his hand for just an instant -upon the shoulder of the new uniform. "I'm all you've got to see you -off, boy," he had said. "But if mother and dad could see you now they'd -be proud and happy." And then had followed a sentence or two of promise, -of affection, of admonition, murmured in a hasty undertone intended to -escape the ears of the statuesque creature who was his brother's wife. -Kenwick had wondered afterward whether they had escaped her, whether, -anything vital ever escaped Isabel Kenwick. And yet his farewell to her -had been a flawless scene. She was always the central figure in some -flawless scene. His brother's whole life seemed to him to be enacted -upon a perfectly appointed stage. There had been just the proper -proportion of regret and pride in Isabel's voice as she bade him -good-by; just the right waving to him from the steps and calling after -him that whenever he returned his old room would be waiting with -everything just as he left it. - -And then he had come back and not found his room the same at all. -Everything about the house seemed changed. His room was a guestroom now, -and he had been relegated to a place on the third floor with -dormer-windows. He hated dormer-windows. When his mother had been head -of the home the third floor had been used only for the servants, but -under Isabel's régime it had been converted into extra guestrooms, and -there seemed to be a never-ending succession of guests. - -So it had been no hardship to acquiesce in Everett's suggestion that he -come out to California and recuperate from the war strain in Old Man -Raeburn's hospitable Mont-Mer home. It was a splendid idea for Everett -well knew that the West was more like home to him now than New York. -Mont-Mer itself was unfamiliar, but only a few hours up coast there was -San Francisco. And in San Francisco was----He felt in his pocket. But -the slender flat object around which his fingers had closed during -moments of desolation and peril in the trenches was not there. The -realization that it had been pitched into the underbrush along with his -money and watch stabbed him with a new pain. Her picture out there in -that cañon where any casual explorer might chance upon it! Why, it was -desecration! - -He pushed aside the tray and went over to the long mirror in the door of -the hall closet. In all his twenty-five years he had never given his -physical appearance such intensive consideration. Vanity had never been -one of his failings. And his fastidious taste in dress was more -instinctive than consciously cultivated. Now the keen dark eyes traveled -slowly from the brown hair brushed back from his forehead to the thin -lips and firm square chin. His eyes were the wide-apart eyes of the -student but it was the nose that gave his face distinction. Thin, -sensitive, perfectly molded, it betrayed an eager, intense nature never -quite at peace with itself. The hands with which he tried now to comb -his disordered hair into decorum were the long-fingered, hollow-palmed -hands of those who are blessed and cursed with the creative, -introspective temperament. They were hands impatient of detail, eager to -grasp at the garment of great achievement, resentful of the slower -process of accomplishment. He had drawn himself to his full six feet. -Army training had given him an extra inch, and of this one physical -asset he was proud. - -"Decent appearing," he mused, checking off the credit side of his ledger -in businesslike tones. "Fairly prosperous, sane, and law-abiding. I -wonder if I'll be able to convince my host of any of those things." - -He decided suddenly to explore the upper part of the house. It would -cost terrific physical effort, but a fury of restlessness possessed -him. On the broad landing the stairway divided and took opposite ways. -He turned to the left and a few minutes later found himself standing in -the open doorway of what appeared to be an upstairs sitting-room. It was -obviously a man's apartment. The smell of stale cigar smoke was in the -air and on the table a pipe and ash-tray. It was the sight of the latter -that brought Kenwick's fine eyes together in a deep-furrowed frown. From -the cold ashes he drew out a half-smoked cigar. For a long moment he -stood turning it in his hand. It couldn't have been in that tray for -more than a few hours. - -In the room beyond, separated from the sitting-room by portières, was a -massive walnut bed, chiffonier, and shaving-stand. A blue-tiled bathroom -completed the suite. The windows of all three were closed and locked. He -went back to the hall, past another bedroom with door ajar, and -descended the stairs to the landing. Here he paused to rest, gazing -speculatively at the closed portals in the opposite wing. - -"The modern American home," he decided. "He has one part of the house -and she has the other." - -His face twitched with the pain of his pilgrimage. It was going to be a -crucial experience getting downstairs. While he stood there almost -despairing of the feat of covering the distance back to the den, there -came to his ears a sound that turned him cold. He forgot his pain and -clung to the supporting post motionless as a statue. - -The sound came again. He knew this time that it was not the -hallucination of overstrung nerves. Dragging himself up by the banister, -he knocked on the first door of the right wing. There was no response. -He knocked again, then boldly turned the knob. The door was locked. But -through the deathly stillness there came, after a moment's pause, the -sound that he had heard before. It was the sound of a woman's stifled -sobbing. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Kenwick stood outside the closed door, a curious numbness stealing over -him. Was it possible, he asked himself, that there had been some one in -this house during the last twelve hours? Was it possible that this -person was a woman? A solitary woman? It was unmistakably a woman's -voice, and there was no sound of comforting or upbraiding or other -evidence of companionship. As he knocked again at the door he wondered -which one of them was the more startled by the presence of the other. - -The sobbing had abruptly ceased. There was dead silence. Had he been of -a superstitious temperament he might have suspected that his knock had -somehow released from bondage an unhappy ghost who, wailing over a dead -tragedy, had vanished leaving this spectral house as desolate as he had -found it. - -But Kenwick had no patience whatever with the occult. For him life was -too all-absorbing and vivid an enterprise to tolerate the pastel -existence of ghosts. Through the stillness his voice cut its way like a -torchlight cleaving a path through a blind alley. - -"What's the matter?" - -As he hurled this question through the panel, he reflected that, being a -woman, she would probably reply, "Nothing." But there was no response. -Kenwick persisted. "Can I do anything for you?" And then a voice that -was little more than a whisper came to him. - -"Who are you?" - -Conscious that the name would mean nothing to her, he gave it with a -touch of irritation. She must know that he couldn't explain his invasion -of her house through that inscrutably closed door. He had never thought -of the place as belonging to a woman. Nothing that he had seen in it so -far bespoke a woman's presence. The embarrassment that he had felt -during the first hours of his imprisonment ebbed back and for the moment -robbed him of further speech. - -"Please go away." The voice from the other side of the door was -entreating. It was a cultured, beautifully modulated voice struggling -against heavy odds for composure. Kenwick had the feeling that it was a -voice that lent itself easily to disguise. - -"I can't go away until I have told you about myself," he said firmly. -"I must tell you how I happen to be here, an uninvited guest in your -house." He gave her the story briefly and was horribly conscious that it -lacked conviction. In his own ears it sounded like the still-born -narrative of a debauchee. Having stumbled to the end he waited for her -comment. It came after a long pause. - -"I'm sorry you're hurt. I hope you'll feel better to-morrow." To-morrow! -Did she expect him to prolong his visit indefinitely? The casual -courtesy of her tone was more disconcerting than indignation or -resentment or any other form of reply could have been. But he resolved -savagely not to leave that door until he had obtained some sort of -information. - -"When I met with the accident I was driving out to the Raeburn house; -Charles Raeburn. Do you know where he lives?" - -"No." - -"Well, tell me about this place, then, please. Whose is it?" - -"I don't know." - -"You don't know? And yet you live here?" Kenwick felt as though his -brain were turning over in his head. - -"If you call this living." He wouldn't have caught this reply at all if -his ear hadn't been pressed close against the panel. - -"Are you all alone here?" - -There was no reply. - -"Is any one with you?" - -"Oh, please go away. Do have pity on me and go away." - -She was alone, Kenwick decided, and was afraid to tell him so. The -realization brought a wave of hot color to his face. He dragged himself -painfully back to the landing. And from that distance he sent his voice -up to her, freighted with reassurance. - -"Don't be frightened. I'm pretty badly bunged up just now, but I found a -revolver over in the other wing, and if anybody comes prowling -about--well, I'm not a bad shot." Suddenly a new thought occurred to -him. "Have you had anything to eat this morning? Are you hungry?" - -"I think--I am starving." - -It was like a spray of ice-water in his face. He stood for a moment -considering, "I'll get you something," he promised. "If you don't want -to come out I'll fix it and bring it up on a tray." - -"There would be no use." - -"Why not?" - -"Because I can't open the door." - -"Are you in bed?" His voice had sharpened. - -Silence again, from which he concluded that she was. He stood there -staring at the heavy mahogany door as though by the mere intensity of -his gaze he could dissolve it. For a long moment he was lost in thought, -but he was not trying now to solve the riddle of the woman on the other -side of the barrier. The needs of the immediate present were all that -concerned him. Finally he spoke again. - -"Is your bed anywhere near a window?" - -"Yes." - -"Is the window open?" - -"Yes." - -"Then listen. I'll go downstairs and get something for you to eat. I'll -put it into a bucket, attach some kind of rope with a weighted end to -it, and throw the end in at your window. I can't get outside so I'll -have to do it from the pantry window and it may take some time, but I'll -keep at it. When the end comes in, pull up the bucket. Do you see?" - -"I'll try to." - -He turned away and began the long trip down to the kitchen. Now that he -was animated by a desire to help somebody else, the depression which had -enveloped him was momentarily dissipated. In spite of the ever-present -pain he felt almost elated when at last he arrived again in the kitchen. - -Half an hour later the "rope," manufactured from several towels tied -together, with a potato-masher on the end, flew in at the window just -above the pantry and the carefully covered bucket disappeared from -sight. "Pretty neat," Kenwick remarked to himself. "I had no idea that I -could do it when I told her I would." - -But the strain had been too great. He was suddenly aware that every -nerve in his body was aching. Back in the den he sank down on the couch -where he had spent the night. Conjecture about the woman upstairs was -submerged now beneath his own physical misery. The shelves in the -library were empty. There was nothing to read save a paper-backed copy -of one of Dumas's earlier novels, which he discovered in a corner. He -took it up and tried to lose himself in the story, but it couldn't hold -him. He found himself wondering resentfully why old man Raeburn hadn't -shown more interest in his non-appearance. He was furiously impatient -and utterly helpless. And he told himself that these two cannot live -long together without wrecking the reason. Never before in his life had -he been in a position where he couldn't do something to alter obdurate -circumstance. To do anything would be better than to do nothing. The -thought came to him all at once that this was what women, overwhelming -numbers of women, must have endured during the terrible years of the war -just past. There must have been whole armies of them, furiously eager to -shoulder guns and march away to the trenches with the men they loved. -And instead they had to submit to being caged up in houses and, -blindfolded to all vision of the outer world, perform day after day the -dreary treadmill duties of routine existence. For the first time he -found himself wondering why more of them hadn't gone insane under the -pressure. He was certain that he himself would lose his mental balance -if the blindfold wasn't soon removed from his mental vision. - -Suddenly he sat up and tossed aside his book. There was the sound of a -footstep on the gravel walk at the other side of the house. Pushing a -chair before him he followed the sound out to the dining-room. Through -the window he saw a tall, ungainly looking boy walking toward the -tank-house garage. He was carrying a long pole and a pair of pruning -shears. So this was the accursed gardener, the mysterious gatherer of -eggs, who, having brought him into the house, was content to let him die -there or make off with the family plate. - -"Here, you!" Kenwick knocked on the window-pane. It was a loud -resounding knock, but the boy walked on unheeding, carefully examining -one end of his pole. - -Kenwick tried the lock. He had noticed in a previous investigation that -all the windows on the lower floor had double locks. Undoing them on the -inside was futile until a spring released them on the outside. And -Kenwick was in no mood for making mechanical experiments. For an instant -he stood there, like some caged animal, staring after the gawky figure -of the boy as though he were the embodiment of hope fading away in the -distance. And then a blind fury seized him. Possessed only of the -overpowering desire to gain the attention of the outside world, he -suddenly doubled his fist and sent it crashing through the heavy -plate-glass pane. It shattered into a hundred pieces and cut a deep gash -in his wrist. - -When he had bound this up in a handkerchief with deft first-aid skill, -he leaned out through the ragged aperture that had been the window. The -boy had vanished as completely as though he were a wraith. Kenwick, -controlling his dismay with a stupendous effort, told himself that he -had only gone to put away his tools and would soon come running back to -investigate the damage. He stood there waiting, exulting in his revolt. -In spite of the lacerated wrist this violent assertion of his rights -brought an immense relief. Why, a person might be murdered in this place -and it would be days before anybody would know a thing about it. - -The boy did not return, and Kenwick made his way back to the den. It was -mid-afternoon now and a heavy rain had begun to fall. He made no further -attempt to read, but lay on the upholstered window-seat trying to find -some position that would be bearable. He cursed himself for having used -the leg so much. Had he remained quiet all day he might by now have been -able to get away from this uncanny place. But the woman upstairs! He -couldn't throw off an absurd sense of responsibility concerning her. -From all that he could gather she was as helpless a puppet in the hands -of fate as he. But of course she might have been lying to him. As he lay -there on his back gazing out at the needles of rain driven aslant into -the dank ground, he felt distrustful of the whole universe. Could there -be any way, he wondered, of getting a message out of this house? There -must be a rural delivery, and if so, at the gate would be a letterbox. -But that gate----It seemed tortuous miles away. - -A search through the empty drawers of the desk revealed several loose -sheets of tablet-paper and the stub of a pencil. With this equipment he -wrote out a telegram to Everett. The mere wording of it seemed to -reinstate him somehow in the world of affairs. The problem of getting it -into the office could be solved later. - -At six o'clock he forced himself to go out to the kitchen again and -prepare supper. The thought of eating revolted him, but the woman -upstairs, liar, decoy, or invalid, must be fed. Dangling close to the -pantry window was the white-knotted towel rope with the bucket on the -end. He put into it the last of the loaf of bread and some boiled eggs. -Then he called to her to pull it up. When the bucket had begun its -erratic climb, he leaned out of the narrow opening and spoke with -defiant triumph. "Did you hear me smash that window this afternoon? I -was trying to get the attention of the gardener. And I'm going to get it -too if I have to smash up everything on this place." - -If she made any reply he did not catch it. The rain was falling fast now -and there was the growling sound of approaching thunder. Back in the den -again he turned on the reading-light, more for companionship than -illumination. Could it be possible that he would have to spend another -night in this ghostly house? The idea was intolerable, and yet there was -no relief in sight. - -Another hour passed, and darkness enveloped the world in a shroud-like -mantle. The bandage with which Kenwick's leg was wrapped was a torture -now. He unwound it and began to massage the badly swollen limb using the -long firm strokes that he had learned from the athletic trainer during -his university days. They seemed to ease the pain somewhat and he -continued to rub until his arms ached with the effort. - -Then all at once there came to his ears a sound that made him halt, -every muscle tense with listening. It was a sharp incisive knocking and -it seemed to come from the dining-room. He sat motionless, afraid to -move lest it should stop. But it came again, a clear unmistakable -knocking that had the dull resonance of metal clashing against metal. To -Kenwick it was perfectly obvious now that someone was trying to gain -entrance at that broken dining-room window. He tested his unbandaged -foot upon the floor and drew himself stealthily to a standing position. -And then he turned himself slowly in the direction of the darkened -dining-room. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -The Morgan home on Pine Street was a rambling old house; the only -shingle structure in a block of modern concrete apartments. To the elder -Morgans it had been the fulfilment of a dream; a home of their own in -San Francisco. Clinton Morgan had lived only a year after its -completion, and his widow, in spite of the pressure of hard times and -the inadequacy of the income which he left, had resisted all tempting -offers to sell the old place and had brought up her son and daughter -with a reverence for family tradition as incongruous to their -environment and generation as was the old shingle house among its -businesslike neighbors. - -And then, eight years after Clinton Morgan's death, oil had been -discovered in his holdings over at Coalinga, and the last year of Sarah -Morgan's life had been spent in affluence. But she had never parted with -the old home. At the end of that year she had called Clinton, Jr., then -a young instructor in chemistry at the university, to her bedside and -laid a last charge upon him. - -"Clint,"--Her voice held that note of unconscious tyranny that -approaching death gives to last utterances. For in the moment of -dissolution there is not one among us but is granted the crown and -scepter of autocracy. "Clint, don't let the old place go. Fix it over -any way you and Marcreta like, but keep it in the family as long as you -live." - -"Yes, Mother." - -"And Clint, there is something else." - -"I know, Mother. It's Marcreta. But you needn't worry about her." - -"I don't believe in death-bed promises. It's not right to try to tie up -anybody's future. But----You see, if she were strong and well, I -wouldn't be anxious; I wouldn't say anything but----" - -"You don't need to say anything, Mother. I'll always look out for her." - -A white, blue-veined hand stretched across the counterpane groping for -his. A moment later Marcreta was holding the other and brother and -sister faced each other alone. - - * * * * * - -It was about a year after this that Clinton Morgan brought home with him -to dinner one night a young college fellow, just on the eve of -graduating from the University of California. The friendship between the -instructor and this undergraduate, five years his junior, had begun in -the fraternity-house where Clinton dined occasionally as one of the "old -men." And temperamental congeniality and diversity of interests had done -the rest. - -"He's slated to be one of those writer freaks." Thus he introduced the -guest to his sister. "But he's harmless at present and he's far from -home, so I brought him along." - -Roger Kenwick looked into Miss Morgan's grave blue eyes and became -suddenly a man. His host, surveying him genially from across the -meat-platter, found himself entertaining a stranger. The gay persiflage -which he had known over at "the house" was completely submerged under a -maturity which he had suspected only as potential. In vain he tried that -form of social surgery known to hosts and hostesses as "drawing him -out." He mentioned a clever poem in the college magazine of which -Kenwick was editor. He began a discussion of the approaching track-meet -in which Kenwick was to support his championship for the hundred-yard -dash. He tried university politics in which his guest was a conspicuous -figure. To all these leads his fraternity brother made brief, almost -impatient response. And Clinton Morgan was resentfully bewildered. He -experienced that cheated feeling known to any one who has brought home -exultantly a clever friend, and then failed in the effort to make him -show off. - -But he couldn't complain that Kenwick was tongue-tied. He was talking -earnestly, but it was about future, not past achievement. Inspired by -Marcreta's sympathetic interest, he unfolded plans of accomplishment of -which until that moment he himself had been in densest ignorance. -Clinton had seen other men change, chameleon-like, in the presence of -his sister, and he found himself wondering now as he watched Kenwick -take his headlong leap into the future, whether it was Marcreta's regal -beauty which inspired their admiration or her physical disability which -appealed to their chivalry. - -Kenwick himself was scarcely conscious of the disability. He was only -vaguely aware that there were cushions at Miss Morgan's back and that on -the way in from the living-room she had leaned slightly upon her -brother's arm. When the evening was over he left the Morgan home -enveloped in a white fury. - -"I've been a fool!" he told himself violently. "I've been frittering -away my whole life. This college stuff is kids' play. If I wasn't just -two months from the end I'd ditch it and break into the man's game of -finding a place in the world." - -"Great chap, Kenwick," Clinton was telling his sister. "But he wasn't -quite himself to-night. I think he has some family troubles that worry -him. Doesn't get on very well with his sister-in-law back East, I -believe. That's why he came out here to college." - -Marcreta made a random reply. She was wondering what kind of person -Roger Kenwick's real self was. And she was soon to discover. For that -evening marked the beginning of a new era for them both. Scarcely a week -passed that he did not spend Saturday and Sunday evenings at the house -on Pine Street. Sometimes he read aloud to her "stuff" that he had -written for the local newspapers. Sometimes she read to him from her -favorite books. Once she helped him plan the plot of an absorbing serial -story. But often they didn't read anything at all; just sat in front of -the open fire and talked. - -In May Kenwick was graduated from the university, but was still living -at the fraternity-house in Berkeley when there came a sudden summons -from New York. He ought to come, Isabel informed him, for his brother -was seriously ill. On the night before he left he made a longer call -than usual at the Morgan home. - -"Everett's the finest chap in the world," he told Marcreta. "He's been -like a father to me. But----Lord! How I hate to tear myself away from -here! And the worst of it is, I don't know how long I may have to stay. -You won't forget me if it's a long time?" - -And then all at once they were not talking about his trip any more, nor -of Everett. "If you could only give me some hope to go on," Kenwick was -saying. "Something to live on while I'm away." - -But to this entreaty Marcreta was almost coldly unresponsive. She tried -evasions first; asked solicitous questions concerning his plans; showed -a heart-warming interest in his anxiety concerning his brother. But, -forced at length to answer his persistent question, she said simply: -"No. I don't care for you--in that way. Let's not talk any more about -it. Let's not spoil our last evening together." - -It brought him to his feet white and shaken. "Spoil my last evening with -you!" he cried. "Spoil my whole life! That's what it will do if I can't -have you in it." His fingers sought an inside pocket of his coat. "I've -got your picture," he told her fiercely. "I got it down at Stafford's -studio the other day. And I'm going to carry it with me always--until -you give me something better." - -A month after his arrival in New York he wrote her that his brother had -recovered and that he would soon be coming back to find a position in a -newspaper office in San Francisco. But he didn't come back. For it was -just at this time that men began to hear strange new voices calling to -them from out of the world-chaos. Day by day they grew in volume and in -authority luring youth out of the isolation of personal ambition into -the din and horrible carnage of war. Just before he left for a Southern -training-camp Kenwick wrote her a long letter. In it there was neither -past nor future tense. It concerned itself solely, almost stubbornly, -with the present. - -On the evening that she received it Marcreta held conference with her -brother in the dignified old drawing-room. "Clinton, I want to make the -old house take a part in the war. I've been talking it over with Dr. -Reynolds. He says it would make an ideal sanitarium. I want to use it -for the families of enlisted men; the women and children, you know, who -are too proud for charity and who, for just a nominal sum, could come -here and get the best treatment. If you were at the front, wouldn't it -relieve your mind to know that somebody you loved, I for instance, was -getting the proper care when I was ill, even though you couldn't provide -it for me? I'll do all this out of my own money, of course, and keep -your room and mine, so that this will still be home to you when--you -come back from training-camp." - -He stared at her incredulously. "Why, how did you----What makes you -think that--I'm going away?" - -"I saw Captain Evans's name on that envelope the other day, so I wrote -to him and asked if you had quizzed him about war work," she told him -shamelessly. "I couldn't help it, Clint. I had to know. I really knew -anyway. Knowing you, how could I help seeing that you were mad to get -away and help. Every _man_ must be. But you've been afraid to broach it -to me." - -In his first moment of wild relief, he didn't dare trust himself to -speak. When he at last ventured a response he plunged, manlike, into the -least vital of the two topics. "But you don't quite realize what it -would mean, Crete, tearing the whole house up that way. And the -incessant confusion of having all those people around would be a -frightful strain. With that spine of yours apt to go back on you at any -time----It isn't as if you were a well woman." - -The instant the words were out he regretted them. He saw his sister -wince, but her voice was steady and eager with entreaty. "That's just -it, dear. It isn't as if I were well and could do any work myself. But I -can do this. I know what sick people need to make them comfortable. Oh, -let me do it, Clinton." - -He reached over and patted her shoulder. "I don't want to stand in the -way of anything that would give you any happiness. But if it should be -too much for you--and I so far away from you----" - -"Even if it should be, you would come to see some day that I was right -to do it. I have a right to take that chance. I have just as much right -as a soldier has to stake my life against a great cause." - -In the end he yielded, and together they planned the readjustment of -their lives and the old home. Of the rooms on the lower floor, only the -big library remained unchanged. But there were invalid-chairs ranged -about the great room now and little tables holding bottles and trays. - -On the Sunday evening before he left Clinton found his sister up in her -room sorting over a pile of letters. "Well, your dreams are coming true, -Crete," he told her. "Dr. Reynolds is delighted with this place -and--you're sending a man to the service." - -She looked up at him with a smile, and it flashed across him suddenly -that she had done more than this. A silence fell between them, the tense -throbbing silence that precedes a last farewell. He felt that he ought -to say something; something comforting and cheerful. But the Morgans -were reserved people, and they found confidences incredibly difficult. -So he stood there looking down at her, thinking that she always ought to -wear that soft blue-gray color that seemed to melt into her eyes and -bring out all the richness of the dark curves of hair. It was so that he -would think of her in the days that were to come--a fragile but gallant -figure sitting at the old mahogany desk sorting out letters. - -Suddenly she pushed them aside and rose to her full splendid queenly -height. She knew that the moment of farewell had come and was not -grudging it its crucial moment of life. He came toward her and put his -two hands lightly on her shoulders. But words failed him utterly. For -his glance had fallen upon the pile of letters which she had tied with a -narrow bit of white ribbon. And he noticed for the first time that they -were all addressed in the same handwriting. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -Before going to investigate the knocking in the dining-room, Kenwick -picked up the loaded revolver which he had brought down with him from -the upstairs sitting-room. He felt himself so completely at a -disadvantage against any chance invader that only such a weapon could -even the score. Besides, there was the sick woman upstairs. He had her -to protect. He hobbled across the hall, making as little noise as he -could. But the process of getting into the dining-room took considerable -time. There was plenty of time, he reflected, for the intruder to become -discouraged or emboldened as the case might be. - -As he crossed the room an icy blast struck him from the open window, and -he told himself savagely that he wished he had left it alone. You -couldn't expect a furnace to heat a house with a gale like that blowing -into it. He had dragged himself to within a few feet of the pane when -all at once he stopped. Two wide boards had been nailed across the -aperture. It was a clumsy job, hurriedly done. Kenwick stood there -gazing at it. So it was only for this that he had made the painful -journey from the den! And the carpenter was gone. The customary deathly -stillness prevailed. - -He stood there listening for the sound of retreating footsteps but it -was another sound that caught his ear. What he heard was the far off -chugging of an automobile engine. He remembered now that the place was -on a corner; that he had walked what had seemed miles after turning that -corner before he had come to the iron gate. He was thinking rapidly. -This was his one hope. If he could manage to get out to that gate by the -time the motor-car reached it, he could get help. How ill the woman -upstairs might be he could not guess, but they were both terribly in -need of aid. At any cost he must get out to the road. - -He laid the revolver upon a grim, high-backed chair and threw his whole -six feet of strength against one of the wide boards. It gave under the -pressure with a long tearing noise and hung outward dangling from its -secure end. Kenwick took up the revolver again, worked himself out -through the ample opening, and landed cautiously upon the gravel walk -beneath the window. Clutching at the branch of a giant oleander bush he -called up to the patient upstairs; "I'm going out to the gate. I don't -know what will happen to me before I get back, and I don't care. But I'm -going to get help or die trying." - -There was no response. He wondered, as he started along through the -blackness, whether the woman could be asleep. How could any one sleep in -this ghastly place. Some people didn't seem to have any nerves. But she -might be dead. The thought brought him to an abrupt halt. But in that -case it was more imperative than ever that he toil on. - -The rain had stopped now and the lawn under his feet was soggy and -water-beaten like a carpet that has been left out in a storm. He thanked -fortune that it was not slippery but gave beneath his staggering tread -with a resilience that aided progress. It was impossible for him to -proceed at anything faster than what seemed a snail's pace. The machine -must have passed the gate by this time, but there would be others. If he -ever reached that distant goal he would stand there and wait. - -Across the circle of lawn, around the arc of drive, he made his -laborious way with clenched teeth. And so at last he came to where the -tall gate loomed black and forbidding through the darkness. The heavy -chain still swung its sinister scallop before it, seeming more like a -prison precaution now than a warning against invasion. As he looked at -the stone fence, stretching away from it on both sides, and recalled the -agony with which he had scaled it, courage fled. He'd rather die, he -decided, than attempt to struggle over that parapet again. So he stood, -supporting himself by one of the iron rods of the gate, listening for -the sound of an engine. It came at last, growing louder as the car -turned the corner a quarter of a mile away. It was evidently traveling -slowly in low gear. The reason was soon apparent. Its engine was missing -fire. - -On through the darkness it came, its lights blazing a path for its -faltering progress. There was a noise of violently shifted gears and -then the heavy, greasy odor of a flooded carburetor. Behind the lights -there slid into view almost opposite the tall gate a high-powered -roadster. A man wearing huge glasses that gleamed through the dark like -the eyes of some superhuman being sprang out and wrenched open the -engine hood. - -For a moment Kenwick watched him, dreading to speak lest the stranger -vanish and leave him solitary as the gardener had done. And then -abruptly he sent his voice hurtling through the night. At sound of it he -recoiled. Only those who have suffered in solitude the agony of a -nameless terror know the ghastly havoc that it can work upon the human -voice. Kenwick's held now a harsh, ugly tone that had in it something -like a threat. The man at the engine wheeled about and leveled his huge -eyes at the spot from whence the summons came. "What the devil----?" he -began. - -And then explanations tumbled through the barred gate in an incoherent -torrent. They left the motorist with a confused impression of an -automobile tragedy, a bed-ridden woman, a feeble-minded gardener, and a -haunted house. - -In sheer perplexity he began drawing off his heavy gantlet gloves as -though to prepare for action. "Take it slower," he advised. "I don't get -you." And then he noticed that the man on the other side of the gate was -hatless and without an overcoat. "My Lord!" he cried anxiously. "You'll -freeze out here, man!" - -"Then for God's sake come in here and help me!" Kenwick entreated. "I -don't know whose place this is but it ought to be investigated. There's -a woman in here who's ill, and somebody has locked her into her room. -I'm not able to do a thing for her or for myself. Do you know what house -this is?" - -The stranger shook his head. "No, I'm just out here on a visit." Kenwick -groaned. There flashed into his mind the stories of some of his friends -who had toured California and who were unanimous in their conclusion -that everybody in the southern part of the state was merely a visitor. -"But whom do they visit?" Everett Kenwick had once inquired and nobody -could supply him with an answer. - -"Then you don't know where the Raeburn house is?" the man inside the -gate asked hopelessly. - -The motorist shook his head again. "I'll tell you what though," he -suggested. "You get back into the house out of this cold and I'll send -somebody back here. I'm having engine trouble and I've got to get into -town." - -Kenwick was fumbling with numb fingers in the pocket of his coat. He -stretched an oblong of white paper through the bars of the gate. "If -you're going in town, take this," he pleaded. "It's a message I want to -send to my brother in New York. Kenwick is the name and the address is -on the outside." - -The stranger stopped on his way to the gate and a curious expression -crossed his face. And just at that moment Kenwick caught the sound of -another voice speaking from inside the car. He couldn't catch the words, -for the coughing of the engine beat against his ears. The man in the -goggles climbed to the seat and the next minute the machine was moving -jerkily away. - -Cold desolation seized Kenwick. But he felt certain that the stranger -would return. There was nothing mysterious nor uncanny about him. But -how long would he have to wait there on the drenched gravel before help -could get back to him? It wouldn't do to catch cold in that leg and add -a fever to his other troubles. He must get back into the house. Out -there on the bleak road he thought longingly of its warm comfort. -Everything that he had done since he came into it seemed now to have -been the wrong thing. A horrible sense of incompetency, the first that -he had ever known in all his vivid, effective life, surged over him. And -added to this was a curious sense of having lost something. Was it -Marcreta Morgan's picture that he missed? He told himself that it was, -but he was only half satisfied with this assurance. - -Arguing the matter with himself, he had covered half the distance around -the driveway when suddenly a sharp reverberation rang through the air. -It was the report of a gun. Almost immediately this was followed by a -woman's scream. - -Kenwick stood still, balancing himself unsteadily upon his well foot. -The sound had come from the direction of the house. Did it herald a -tragedy or was it merely a signal? Scarcely knowing why he did it, -except to relieve the physical tension and to make his presence known, -he gripped his own revolver and fired two answering shots upward into -the night. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -The one idea which possessed Kenwick after dragging himself back through -the broken window was to find out if the woman upstairs was safe. The -journey out to the big gate and back had consumed almost an hour, and as -he pulled himself in between the wide board and shattered glass he felt -that it must have been years since he had gone on that painful quest. He -rested for a few moments and then went into the front hall. - -To his amazement he found it ablaze with light. Brilliant too was the -living-room beyond. In the latter he had never used anything but the -shaded lamp upon the table. Now the chandeliers in the ceiling had been -lighted from the switchboard button. It was evident that some one had -been all over the lower part of the house while he was gone. It must -have been the woman upstairs. There was no one else on the premises -except that half-witted garden boy. - -Grimly resolved to discover whether his mysterious companion was still -concealing herself behind locked doors or whether her apartment had -been stormed by some prowler he made his way up to the room in the front -of the right wing. As he approached it he called to her asking if she -was all right. There was no response. He knocked. The sound echoed dully -down the handsome stairway. Then in a futile sort of way he tried the -knob. - -This time it yielded to his touch and swung slowly open. For a moment he -hesitated, dreading to snap on the light. Then the stillness grew -oppressive. His quick, impatient fingers groped along the wall, found -the switch-button, and pressed it. The mysterious apartment flashed into -sudden reality. - -Kenwick looked about him, bewildered. The light revealed a large -handsome room furnished in golden oak. There was a massive double bed, -bureau, dressing-table, and several luxurious chairs. A heavy moquette -carpet deadened every footfall, and the rose-colored draperies at the -windows admitted only a restricted view of the outer world. But it was -the condition of the room, not its furnishings, that puzzled the man -upon the threshold. Dust covered every polished surface. The hearth was -swept clean. There had been no fire on it for months, perhaps years. On -the bed was a mattress but no coverings. The mirrors on bureau and -dressing-table showed a thin veil of dust. There were no toilet -articles, no personal belongings of any kind. The room was evidently a -woman's but there was no hint of a woman's presence, except that in the -air hung a faint perfume of heliotrope. He remembered suddenly that it -was the perfume that Marcreta Morgan had always used. - -Kenwick went over to one of the chairs and sat down. He felt intensely -relieved. If the woman had gone away she would certainly send some one -back to the house, for she knew that he was alone and injured. But how -had she gone? Was there another entrance to these somber grounds? For -half an hour he sat there trying to think it out. The room grew very -cold. It had apparently been shut off from the furnace connection. He -arose at last, stiffly, and went back downstairs, switching off the -lights. In the living-room and hall he turned them off too, for they -gave to the solemn rooms a garish, incongruous splendor. - -He went into the den and took his old place on the upholstered -window-seat. It may have been twenty minutes later that he heard the -sound of wheels crunching the gravel of the driveway. He listened -intently. No, this time he was not mistaken. Some vehicle was -approaching the house. The stranger in goggles had been true to his -promise and had sent back help, or perhaps returned himself. At last -this hideous bondage was to end. He limped into the living-room and -without turning on the light, peered out. There was no one in sight and -no sound of voices, but at the foot of the front steps stood a long -black car. It recalled to him in a flash the beetle-black limousine that -he had seen in the tank-house garage. - -Impelled by his entry into the room upstairs to try the front door, he -turned the knob. It was unlocked. Whoever had come in or gone out had -been in too much of a hurry to fasten it this time. - -And then, standing there at that half-open door, Kenwick suddenly lost -his headlong impatience. For the realization came to him at last that -his experiences of the last twenty-four hours were no casual adventure. -This was a game, perhaps even a trap. He had inadvertently stepped into -a carefully laid plot. That it had been obviously prepared for somebody -else did not alter the seriousness of his present position. Whoever was -engineering the thing had assumed that he would do and say certain -things. And now, he reminded himself angrily, he had probably done and -said them all. Certainly his every move had been direct, impetuous, -glaringly obvious. He would have to change his course unless he wanted -to die in this accursed house. This game, whatever it was, couldn't be -won by throwing all the cards face up on the table and demanding a -reckoning. The other players wore masks. If he was to have any chance -against them he must adopt their tactics. - -He assured himself of all this while he limped down the shallow porch -steps. He hadn't the faintest notion of what he was going to do next, -but decided to trust to impulse. He had reached the lowest step when all -at once he recoiled. Almost with his hand upon the beetle-black -limousine he discovered that it was not a limousine at all. It was a -hearse. - -At that same moment, he heard, coming from the near distance, the voice -of some one speaking with unaccustomed restraint. It was a raucous voice -talking in a harsh whisper. And then there was a sound of footsteps -approaching. - -Without an instant's hesitation Kenwick opened the door of the hearse, -pulled himself inside, and drew it shut, unlatched behind him. There -was no definite plan in his mind except to escape. And the woman had -apparently fled so he felt no further responsibility for her. - -The steps came nearer. In another minute some one might jerk open the -door and discover him. And he remembered uneasily that now he was not -armed. He had left the revolver on the table in the den. The footsteps -stopped close to his head and a man's voice called to somebody at a -distance. - -"My orders was to come out here. That's all I know about it. But I'm not -goin' to get myself tied up in any mess like this. It's up to the -coroner first. It just means that I'll have to make another trip out -here to-morrow." - -Kenwick heard him clamber to the high seat, and heard him jam his foot -against the starter, heard its throbbing response. And then he started -away on his long weird drive through the black night. - -He had expected his conveyance to be almost as close and stifling as a -tomb, but was relieved to find that sufficient air came in through the -crack of the door to make the trip endurable. The only provident thing -that he had done during the whole adventure, he decided, was to put on -his overcoat and hat before leaving the den. One journey bareheaded -into the November night had been sufficient to warn him against a -repetition of such rashness. He was dressed now as he had been when he -first took stock of himself outside the tall iron gate. - -The road was smooth asphalt all of the way, and the passenger, stretched -at full length on the hard floor of the hearse, felt more comfortable -than he had all that ghastly day. During the ride he tried to formulate -some definite course of action. For now that the solitary desolation of -the last twenty-four hours was ended, he was able to detach himself from -its events and to view the whole experience as a spectator. - -His vivid imagination pictured the somber house in a dozen different -lights. But he discarded them one by one, and his interest centered -about the identity of the woman upstairs and the single shot which had -pierced the stillness of a few hours before. Of only one thing he was -certain--that he was going to get out of Mont-Mer as speedily as -possible. It was all very well to conjecture that the house might be the -disreputable retreat of some Eastern capitalist, or a rendezvous for -radicals, but he preferred to solve the riddle from a distance. He had -no intention of being called as a witness in an ugly exposé. It would -be easy enough to write to Old Man Raeburn and explain that it hadn't -been possible for him to stop off on his way to San Francisco. He -fervently hoped that he would never see Mont-Mer again. Without ever -having really seen it he had come to loathe it. - -He had ridden for twenty minutes or more when he felt the vehicle slow -down. It made a sharp turn and came to a stop. Kenwick wondered if the -driver would open the doors, and he lay there waiting, staring into the -dark, impassive in the hands of fate. He heard the man climb down from -his seat and then the sound of his footsteps growing fainter in the -distance. - -Ten minutes later Kenwick cautiously pushed open the flimsy doors and -worked himself out of his hiding-place. He was in an alley enclosed on -three sides by the backs of buildings. Half hopping, half crawling he -reached the dimly lighted street. It was almost midnight now and the -little town was deserted. At the corner he found a drug-store. It looked -warm, companionable, inviting. Drawing his fur-collared overcoat about -his ears he hobbled to the door and pushed it open. - -Inside two men were leaning against a glass show-case talking with the -clerk. At Kenwick's entrance the conversation stopped abruptly like the -dialogue of movie actors when the camera clicks the scene's end. The -intruder, clutching at one of the show-cases for support, forced a -comradely smile. "If I can't put one over here," he told himself, "I -don't deserve to be called a fiction-writer." - -But before he had time to speak one of the men came forward with a -startled questioning. "You look all in, man; white as a sheet. Sit down -here. What's the idea?" - -"Pretty close call," Kenwick told him. "A fellow in a car bowled me over -as I was crossing the street. He went right on, but I doubt if I'll be -able to for a while." - -"Well, what do you know about that?" the drug clerk challenged, as he -helped his visitor into a chair behind the prescription-desk. "Say, this -is gettin' to be one of the worst towns on the coast for auto accidents. -Didn't get his number, I suppose?" - -"No. And I'm just a stranger passing through here. I don't know many -people." - -"Hard luck." It was evident that the trio were disappointed in the -meagerness of his story. One of them stooped and was probing the -swollen leg with skilful fingers. Kenwick winced. - -"You've got a bad sprain there all right," the doctor told him. "It's -swollen a good deal, too, for being so recent. Have you walked far?" - -"Yes, rather." Kenwick watched in silence while the physician bound up -the injured member in a stout bandage. In spite of his best efforts one -sharp moan escaped him. - -"Your nerves are badly shaken, I can see that," the doctor decided. "Fix -him up a little bromide, Gregson." - -Kenwick took the glass, furious to note that it trembled in his hand. -The druggist attempted to joke him back to normal poise. "A little more -of a jolt and you'd have had to pass him up to Gifford, Doc. Gifford, -here," he went on by way of introduction, "is shipping a body north -to-night on the twelve-thirty. Bein' two of you, he might have got the -railroad to give your folks a special rate if you're goin' his way." - -The patient evinced mild interest. "San Francisco?" he inquired. The -undertaker nodded. - -"That's the train I hoped to make," Kenwick sighed. "But my money seems -to have been jolted out of me and----" He went carefully through his -pockets as he spoke. And then Gifford came over and stood beside him. -"If you don't mind," he began, "I'd like to know your name." - -Kenwick's reply was glibly reassuring. "Kenneth Rogers." - -"Oh! You that young Rogers that's been visiting for a few days at the -Paddington place, 'Utopia'?" It was the doctor who asked this question. - -Kenwick nodded warily. - -The physician extended his hand. "I'm Markham. Had an engagement to play -golf with you out at the country club this afternoon. Awfully sorry you -couldn't make it but I got the message all right from your sister that -you were having trouble with your car out near Hillside Inn and you -couldn't get away." - -As Kenwick wrung his hand with easy cordiality there flashed before his -mental vision the picture of the wayfarer in goggles. Could a malign -fate have trapped him into taking the name of that visitor to Mont-Mer, -or any visitor, who might some day arise and challenge him? He had got -to get out of this place before the net that the gods were weaving about -him should bind him hand and foot. - -"Say, listen." Gifford forced himself to the front again, speaking with -a mixture of eagerness and hesitation. "If you're goin' up to the city -to-night, I wonder if----You see, it's like this. I've got a big -masonic funeral on here for Thursday morning. It'll be a hell of a rush -for me to get back in time if I have to make this trip. But I promised a -little woman that I'd see personally to this shipment; send a -responsible party or go myself. I haven't got a soul to send, but if -you----." - -Kenwick shook his head. "I won't be able to leave now until to-morrow. -I'll have to wait and get some money." - -Gifford waved aside the objection. "Your expenses will be paid, of -course, as mine would have been. I'll advance you the funds. And you -don't have to _do_ a thing, you know. Wellman's man will meet the train -at the other end. Wait and see the casket in his hands and then you're -through." - -He watched the other man eagerly. For a moment Kenwick didn't trust -himself to meet his gaze. He hoped that he was not betraying in his face -the jubilant conviction that his guardian angel had suddenly returned -from a vacation and had renewed an interest in him. In order not to -appear too eagerly acquiescent he asked casually: "Who is the fellow? -Or who was he?" - -"Man by the name of Marstan. He wasn't known around here. His wife had -to come down from the city to identify him." He glanced at his watch. -"There's just about time to make the train now. I've got my car outside. -It's luck, your stumbling in here like this. Sheer luck." - -"Luck is too mild a word for it," Kenwick assured himself as he crawled -into his Pullman a few moments later. "It's providence, old boy. That's -what it is." - -The bromide had begun to do its work. And his leg, properly bandaged, -gave him no pain. Almost hilarious over the knowledge that daylight -would find him among familiar surroundings again, he fell into the -delicious slumber that follows sudden surcease of mental strain. - -When he awoke the train was speeding through the oak-dotted region of -San Mateo. He had refused to accept any expense-money from Gifford -except enough for his breakfast, and after a cup of coffee in the diner, -he sat gazing out of the window, not caring to open conversation with -any of his fellow-travelers, completely absorbed in the business of -readjusting himself to this environment that he had loved and from -which the war had so abruptly uprooted him. - -It was glorious to be back again, to catch up the loose threads of the -old life. And in spite of the stark bareness of winter, the landscape -had never seemed so appealing. The wide level stretches of pasture, cut -by ribbons of asphalt, the prosperous little towns which the Coast -Company's fast train ignored on its thunderous dash northward, the -children walking to school, the pruners waving their shears to him as he -sped by--all these breathed a healthy normal living that made the -neurotic adventures of the past day seem remote and unreal. - -Under the long shed of the Third and Townsend Depot he lingered only -until he had carried out Gifford's instructions. Then he went on down -the open corridor to the waiting-rooms. Outside the voices of -taxi-drivers and hotel busmen made the radiant winter morning hideous -with their cries. The waiting-room was warm and bright. There was no -better place, Kenwick reflected, to map out his program. The air was a -tonic, crisp and tipped with frost. It was too cold to be without an -overcoat and yet, if Everett did not make punctual reply to the message -that he was about to send, he might have to part with it for a time. - -He found a seat in a corner where he would be out of the draft of -incessantly opening doors. For in spite of his good night's sleep he -felt weak and a little giddy. Resolving to dismiss the past from his -mind and concern himself solely with the present was good logic, but -difficult of accomplishment. First, and dominating all his thought, was -Marcreta Morgan. The thought of her brought him a dull pain. So many -letters he had written her since his return to New York, and not one of -them had she ever answered. Once, in vague alarm, he had even written to -Clinton, but there had been no reply. And then pride had held him -silent. So he couldn't go to the house on Pine Street now. He wouldn't -go, he decided fiercely, until he had a decent position and had -reëstablished himself in civilian life. - -Over at the news-stand a girl was fitting picture post-cards into a -rack. Kenwick walked over to her and with a part of the change left from -his meager breakfast bought a morning paper. While she picked it off the -pile he stood twirling the circular rack absently with one hand. The -Cliff House, Golden Gate Park, and prominent business blocks whirled -past his eyes, but he was not conscious of them. He took his newspaper -and turned away. - -Halfway to the door he opened it and glanced at the sensational menu -spread out for his delectation upon the front page. All at once -something inside his brain seemed to crumple up. The Cliff House, Golden -Gate Park, and tall office-buildings sped around him in a circle, like a -merry-go-round gone mad. Somehow he found his way back to the corner -seat and sank into it. And there he sat like a stone man, staring at, -but no longer seeing, the front page of his newspaper. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -Two hours after Roger Kenwick had taken his gruesome departure from the -house of the iron gate, a mud-spattered car turned in at the side -entrance to the grounds which he had quitted. The man behind the wheel -drove recklessly, careening between the double row of eucalyptus-trees -like some low-flying bird of prey seeking its carrion. At the shallow -front steps he brought the car to an abrupt halt as though he had found -the thing for which he sought. Tugging at his heavy gloves he sprang up -the steps, two at a time. "Lord! What a handsome place this is!" he -muttered. "What a place for dinners and dancing--and love!" - -He pressed the electric button and heard its buzz pierce the stillness -of the house. "It's a crime!" He was walking up and down before the -closed door, flapping his gloves against his chest. "It's a crime for a -man to live in a place like this alone." He pressed the button again, -keeping his finger upon it this time until he felt certain that its -persistent summons must tear at the nerves of whoever was within. But -still there was no response. Then he tried the knob, turned it, and went -inside. - -The house was in complete darkness. He felt his way along the front hall -until his fingers found the switch-button. At the hat-rack he divested -himself of his heavy coat, hat, and gloves. The face which the -diamond-shaped mirror reflected was dark with disapproval and gathering -anger. "Door unlocked at one o'clock at night! Might as well leave a -child in charge of things!" - -Walking with noisy, impatient tread, he ascended the stairs, taking the -left flight on the landing, and snapping on the light in the upper hall. -The doors were all closed. He turned the knob of the first one and went -in. The sitting-room was in perfect order. He crossed it and entered the -alcove beyond. It, too, was in order with fresh linen upon the bed. -Having made a tour of the suite he came back and stood beside the -center-table in the sitting-room. A half-burned cigar caught his eye, -and he drew it out of the ash-tray and turned it speculatively between -his fingers. Then, still holding it, he visited the other rooms in the -left wing. They were all orderly, silent, deserted. Somewhere in his -progress from one to another he dropped the cigar stump and did not -notice it. Moving like a man in a dream he found himself at last over in -the right wing, standing outside a heavy mahogany door. His movements -were no longer speculative. They were nervous and jerky as though -propelled by a disabled engine. - -He did not at first try to open this door but called in a low uncertain -voice that seemed to dread a reply, "Marstan, are you here?" When there -was no response he tried the door in a futile sort of way as though he -were expecting resistance. When it yielded to his touch and he stood -upon the threshold the desolation of the room seemed to leap out at him. -He felt no desire to switch on the light here, but stood motionless in -the open doorway, transfixed, not by a sight but by an odor. - -"Heliotrope!" he muttered at last, and brought the panel shut with a -jerk. "Some woman has been in that room!" - -For long moments he stood there in the lighted upper hall. In his face -bewilderment struggled with alarm. At last he made his way downstairs to -the living-room and on to the den. Here he stared long at the half-drawn -shades and the crumpled cushions of the window-seat. Something was gone -out of that room; something that was a vivid, vital part of it. He -couldn't quite determine what it was. - -Over in the dining-room he examined the bowl of English walnuts with -several empty shells mixed in among them and the nutcrackers lying askew -upon the centerpiece. All at once he dropped these with a crash that -made an ugly scar upon the polished table-top. His eyes had fallen upon -the wide board nailed across the shattered window. He went over and -investigated it carefully, his quick eyes taking in every detail of the -crude carpentry. Under his touch the sagging lower board suddenly gave -way and fell with a heavy thud to the gravel walk below. - -The new-comer went back to the front hall, searched for an instant in -the pocket of his overcoat, and then, clutching a black cylindrical -object, he went out of the house and around on the dining-room side. His -hands were trembling now, and the path of light blazing from the little -electric torch made a zigzag trail across the dank flower-beds. He found -the dislodged board lying with its twisted nails sprawling upward and -dragged it off the path. As he dropped it his eyes fell upon an object -lying beneath a giant oleander bush. At last he knew what it was that he -had missed from the den. It was the Indian blanket. Mystified, he bent -down and picked it up, finding it heavy with the added weight of -dampness. The next moment he gave a startled cry, dropped the blanket -and torch, and staggered back against the wall. And the blackness of -night rushed over him like a tidal wave. - -But his was the temperament which recuperates quickly from a shock. -Resourcefulness, the key-note of his character, impelled him always to -seek relief in action. Cursing the sudden weakness in his knees which -retarded haste, he strode, with the aid of the recovered torch, toward a -small frame cottage in the rear of the garage. Here he rapped sharply -upon the closed door, then pushed it open. This room, too, was empty. -Pointing the torch, like the unblinking eye of a cyclops, into every -corner of the apartment, he made certain of this. Then he drew a -solitary chair close to the door and sat down, the torch across his -knees. - -More slowly now his glance traveled around the room. The blankets upon -the bed were in a disheveled heap. There were some soiled dishes upon -the table, a cup half full of cold tea, and under the small stove a pot -of sticky-looking rice. The fire had gone out. He crossed the room and -lifted the lid of the stove. Under the white ashes a few coals glowed -dully. There were no clothes in the closet. It was easily apparent to -him that the former inmate of the room had left unexpectedly but did not -intend to return. - -For half an hour he sat there motionless. Then he rose, pushed back the -chair, and went out, closing the door behind him. Very deliberately he -followed the side path back to the dining-room window. This time he -retained the light, pressing one end of it firmly with his thumb. The -soggy Indian blanket he folded back, and, stooping close to the ground, -examined intently the dead cold face which it had sheltered. - -It was the face of a man, young but haggard. The cheeks were sunken, and -through the skin of his clenched hands the knuckles showed white and -knotted. His hair was in wild disorder, but it seemed more the disorder -of long neglect than of violent death. The helpless shrunken figure -presented a pitiful contrast to that of the man who knelt beside it. - -His was a large, well-proportioned frame that suggested, not corpulence -but physical power. His hands were powerful but not thick. His whole -bearing was self-assured, almost haughty. But it was the eyes, not the -carriage, that gave the impression of arrogance. They were the clearest -amber color with a mere dot of black pupil. Here and there tiny specks -were visible showing like dark grains of sand in a sea of brown. A woman -had once called them "tiger eyes," and he had been pleased. A child had -once described them as "freckled" eyes, and he had been annoyed. As he -knelt there now, searching the face of the dead man, his eyes, under -their drooping lids, narrowed to the merest slits. When at last he rose -and drew the blanket back over the still form, he moved with the brisk -effectiveness of one animated by definite purpose. - -First, he drove the mud-spattered roadster into the garage and left it -there beside the beetle-black limousine. Then he let himself into the -deserted house again, went up to the second bedroom in the left wing, -and began sorting over some miscellaneous objects from one of the -chiffonier drawers. "Ghastly!" he muttered once. "Ghastly! I'll have to -take something to brace me up." - -Back in the dining-room he took one of the long-stemmed glasses from the -sideboard and poured himself a drink from a bottle in the cupboard -underneath. But first he scrutinized its contents under the light. "Why -didn't you take it all?" he inquired sardonically of some invisible -being. - -For a few hours he slept with a sort of determined tranquillity. But by -eight o'clock he was up and dressed, and a few minutes later he answered -a summons at the front door. Swinging it open he admitted a short sandy -man with the ruddy complexion of the Norsemen. "I'm Annisen, the -coroner," this visitor announced. - -"Yes. I was expecting you. Come in." The other man swung the portal -wider. "Doctor Annisen, is it?" - -The visitor nodded and stepped into the hall that was still dim in the -cold light of the winter morning. He unwound a black silk muffler from -about his throat. "Devilish cold," he commented. "Devilish cold for a -place that advertises summer all the year round." - -His host smiled with sympathetic appreciation. "California publicity," -he commented, "is far and away ahead of anything that we have in the -unimaginative East. My furnace-man left me yesterday and I haven't got -around to making the fires myself yet. But let me give you something to -warm you up, doctor." - -While he filled one of the small glasses on the buffet, his guest eyed -him stolidly. "Still got some on hand, have you?" he said with a heavy -attempt at the amenities. "Well, this wouldn't be a bad place for -moonshining out here. Guess you could put almost anything over without -fearing a visit from the authorities." - -There was a moment of silence. "You've got a beautiful place though," he -went on at last. "But Rest Hollow! What a name for it! Rest! Lord! -Anything might happen out here, and I guess most everything has. I -wasn't much surprised at the message I found waiting me when I got back -to town this morning. I've always said that this place fairly yells for -a suicide." - -The other man's eyes were fixed upon his face with a curious intentness. -It was as though he were deaf and were reading the words from his -companion's lips. The coroner had raised his glass and was waiting. "No, -I don't drink," his host explained. "Very seldom touch anything. I can't -and do my kind of work." - -Annisen set down his empty glass. "I shouldn't think you could do your -kind of work and not drink," he remarked. "Well, let's get this over. I -suppose you left everything just as you found it?" - -There was the ghost of a smile in his host's eyes. "Glad he didn't put -that question the other way around," he was thinking. "It would have -been an embarrassment if he had asked if I found everything just as I -left it." And then aloud, "Certainly. I haven't touched anything. The -body is out here." - -"Good. Gifford sent his wagon out last night, but fortunately his man -knew enough not to disturb anything until I'd been out. Were you here -when he came last night?" - -"No. I didn't get here till later." - -The two men crawled out through the broken window and in the gray light -of the November morning knelt together beside the still form under the -Indian blanket. Mechanically the coroner examined it and the empty -revolver which they discovered a few feet away. But he offered no -comment until he had finished. Then his verdict was curt. "Gunshot wound -in the head, self-inflicted. When did this happen?" He took out a small -book and noted down the answers to this and a variety of other -questions. Then he stood for a moment staring down at the white, drawn -face of the dead man. - -"Young, too," he murmured. "But I suppose it's a merciful thing. There -was no life ahead for him, poor devil." - -They followed the path around to the front of the house where Annisen's -car was waiting. "Be in to the inquest about two o'clock this -afternoon," he instructed. "That hour suit you all right, Mr.----? Don't -believe I know your name." - -"Glover. Richard Glover. I'll be there at two, doctor." - -Late that morning the hearse made its second trip out of the side -entrance of Rest Hollow. A mud-splashed roadster followed it. The -cortège had just passed the last gaunt eucalyptus-tree and turned out -upon the public highway when it was halted. A man in heavy-rimmed -goggles got out of his car and made his way across the road. His glance -wavered uncertainly between the driver of the hearse and the man in the -muddy roadster. He decided to address the latter. - -"I heard the news last night. It got around the neighborhood. But I -thought----I didn't know----Those rumors get started sometimes with no -foundation of fact. But it's true then--that he is dead." - -"That who is dead?" - -The question seemed to be shot back at him. And he had the uncanny -conviction that it emanated, not from the lips, but from the amber eyes -of the man in the roadster. He stammered out his reply. - -"Why--I think his name----He told me his name was Kenwick; Roger -Kenwick, I think." - -The roadster started again. "Yes, that's the name. Did you know him?" - -"No. But wait a minute, please." The goggle-eyed man hurried back to his -own car and returned with a handsome spray of white chrysanthemums. They -were tied with a broad white ribbon bordered with heliotrope. "I'd like -to have you take these if you will." He handed them up to the -hearse-driver. - -The man in the roadster fired another question. "Your name, please?" - -"They are not from me. One of the ladies in the neighborhood sent them. -She felt it was too sad--having him go away this way, all alone." He -went back to his machine and was soon lost in the distance. And the -funeral procession proceeded on its way to Mont-Mer. - -The coroner's inquest was brief and perfunctory. Annisen was on the eve -of retiring from office and seeking a more lucrative position in a -Middle Western city where the inhabitants, as he contemptuously -remarked, "were not afflicted like this place is with a chronic -sleeping-sickness." - -The jury returned the verdict that "the deceased came to his death by -shooting himself in the head." After they had departed, Gifford held -brief parley with the chief witness. "I suppose you'll attend to -notifying the family?" - -Richard Glover nodded. And at his direction the haggard body was removed -from the cheap black coffin in which it had made the trip from Rest -Hollow. Following Richard Glover's instructions, it was embalmed for the -trip across the continent. But just as it was ready for the long -journey, he announced to Gifford that he had received orders from the -family to inter the body in the little cemetery of Mont-Mer. And so, on -the following day, it was taken to the quiet resting-place overlooking -the sea. In the presence of no one except the undertaker's assistants -and Richard Glover there was lowered into the lonely grave a handsome -gray casket with silver handles and a frosted silver plate on which was -inscribed the name "Roger Kenwick." - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -The editor of the "San Francisco Clarion" tilted his chair far back and -look quizzically at the young man sitting beside his desk. "Sure I -remember you," he remarked. "Did some Sunday work for us some time ago, -didn't you?" - -"Yes, a little feature stuff when I was in college." - -"And now you want to go it strong, eh? Well, we've been rather -disorganized in here since the war. There's been a constant stream of -reporters coming and going. But things are settling down a little now -and we're not taking on anybody who doesn't want to stick. Planning to -be in the city right along, are you?" - -"Well, I'll be perfectly frank with you about that. I'm not. I've got to -go East as soon as I get a little money. But I'm not planning to stay -there. I'm coming back for good as soon as I've closed up my business." - -"Why not close up the Eastern business first?" - -"Can't. It's not ripe yet." There was a note of grimness in the young -man's voice. "I don't know just when it will be, either. But when I do -go back, I don't think it will take me long to finish it. Don't give me -a reporter's job if I don't look good to you. Put me on to some feature -stuff for a while." - -"All right. Sit in, and I'll give you a line on a few things I'd like to -have hunted down." - -When he left the office half an hour later, Kenwick sought the public -library. There he spent the entire afternoon and a part of the evening. -It was about nine o'clock when he entered the St. Germaine, a modest -hotel in the uptown district. The night clerk cast an inquiring glance -in search of his suit-case. - -"My baggage hasn't come yet," the prospective guest explained -tranquilly. "It may be in to-morrow. If you want to know anything about -me, call Allen Boyer at the 'Clarion' office." - -When he had been shown to his room on the fifth floor he lighted the -lamp on the stand near his bed and became absorbed in the contents of -one of the weekly magazines. He read until very late and then snapped -out the light, cursing himself for having abused his eyes on the eve of -taking a new position. - -The next morning he was out early, eager to hunt down one of the stories -that Boyer had suggested. As he swung out into the exhilaration of the -crisp November morning on the scent of an assignment some of the old -self-assurance and buoyancy came back to him. - -Half an hour after he had left the hotel, the revolving doors swung -round the circle to admit a man with prosperous leather suit-case and -"freckled" eyes. The day clerk handed him a pen and registration-slip. -He was beginning to sign, after a curt question about the rates, when -the blond cashier, perched on a stool in the wire cage adjoining the -desk, pushed a similar slip of paper toward the clerk. "Can't quite make -out that name," she confessed. "Looks like Renwich. Do you get it?" - -The desk official glanced at it with the casually professional air of -one to whom all the mysteries of chirography are as an open book. "It's -Kenwick. Plain as day--Roger Kenwick." - -The pen slid from the fingers of the man on the other side of the desk. -For a moment, self-possession deserted Richard Glover. He stood there -staring hard at the ugly blot which he had made across his own -signature. Then he crumpled the bit of paper, threw it into the -waste-basket, and, suit-case in hand, went out into the street. - -The day clerk darted a contemptuous glance after his disappearing -figure. "Some nut," he remarked. "Told me the terms were all right and -then got cold feet. I'll bet he's a crook." - -"Sure he's a crook." The blond cashier spoke with cheerful authority. "I -could have told you that when he first came in. I can size 'em up as far -off as the front door. And I had him posted on the 'Losses by Default' -page before he'd set down his bag." - -The day clerk regarded her musingly. "He _had_ a bag, though, and that's -more than this Kenwick fellow showed. But Brown thought he was all right -and let him have 526. Did you notice him this morning? Tall, dark -fellow, young but with hair a little gray around the temples." - -"Ye-a. High-brow. Looks like he was here for his health. Probably broke -down in some government job." - -"No, he's a newspaper man." - -"Let's see where he's from?" She reached for the slip. - -"New York. Well, I slipped a cog. I would have said he was a Westerner." - -"That's right. That last chap looked more like New York to me. But you -never can tell. And something seemed to hit him all wrong about this -place." - -With this conclusion Richard Glover was in complete accord. As he walked -down Geary Street clutching his heavy bag, he was conscious with every -nerve of his being that something had struck him decidedly wrong about -the St. Germaine. "It might be just a coincidence," he reassured -himself. "It's undoubtedly just a coincidence but--but that isn't such a -very common name. My God! I begin to feel like a spy caught in his own -trap." - -With scarcely more than a glance at the name above the entrance he -turned into the lobby of another hotel and signed for a room. It was -almost noon when he appeared again and wrote a letter at one of the -lobby desks. It was not a long letter, hardly more than a note, but its -composition consumed almost an hour and a half a dozen sheets of -stationery, which were successively torn to bits and thrown into the -waste-basket. And then at last the final sheet met the same fate and -Richard Glover sat tapping the desk softly with the edge of the blotter. - -"No, I won't write; I'll just go," he decided. "For asking if I may come -almost invites a refusal. And then it takes longer. I'll go up there -this afternoon. The secret of getting what you want out of people is to -take them off guard." - -Following this policy he set out in the late afternoon to pay a call. At -the door of the uptown address he was met by a colored maid. She offered -him neither hope nor despair but agreed to present his card. - -And in front of the living-room fire Marcreta Morgan read the card and -flicked it across to her brother. "I don't think I care to see anybody -to-day," she said. "It's your first night at home, and there's so much -to talk about." - -"Don't know him," Clinton decided. "Somebody you met while I was away?" - -"Oh, yes, you know him, Clint. You introduced me to him yourself. Don't -you remember he came here one night before you went to Washington and -asked you to analyze some specimens of mineral water." - -"Oh, _that_ fellow! Has he been hanging around here ever since?" - -"Well, no. I can't say that he has hung around exactly. But of late he -has called rather often. He's really quite entertaining in some ways. -You were very much interested in his specimens." - -"In his _specimens_, yes." - -It may have been that she resented his implied dislike. It may have been -for some other reason. But Marcreta suddenly reversed her decision. -"Show him in, please," she ordered. And the next moment the visitor -stood in the doorway. - -It was apparent as he crossed the long room that he had not expected to -meet any one save his hostess. But he responded warmly to Clinton's -handshake and drew up a chair for himself opposite Marcreta. "It's a -pleasant surprise to find you here, Mr. Morgan," he said. "I thought you -were still in the service at Washington. But it's time for every one to -be getting home now, isn't it?" - -Clinton Morgan surveyed him silently. It struck him that his guest was -very much at home himself. For a time the conversation followed that -level, triangular form of talk which so effectually conceals purpose and -personality. Then Clinton excused himself on the plea that he had some -unpacking to do, and Marcreta and Richard Glover were left alone. - -"It's been a long time since I've seen you, Mr. Glover," she said. "You -haven't been in the Bay region lately?" - -"No, I've not been able to get away." His tone indicated that he had -chafed under this pressure of adverse circumstance. "But it's good to -get back now," he went on. "I'm always glad to get back--here." - -She ignored the new ardent note in his voice. "But the southern part of -the State is beautiful," she said. "Mont-Mer, particularly, is so -beautiful that it makes the soul ache." - -The words seemed to startle him. His eyes left the camouflaged log of -wood in the fireplace and fixed themselves steadily upon her. "How do -you know? How do you, San Francisco-bound, know?" - -"I have just returned from there. My brother and I arrived home the same -day. I spent a week near Mont-Mer visiting my friends, the Paddingtons. -Do you know them?" - -"No. But I think I know their home. They call it 'Utopia,' I believe?" - -"Yes. And until I saw it I had always thought that Utopia was a myth." - -"Mont-Mer," he mused, "does look rather like a fairy-story come true, -doesn't it? There's something perilously seductive about it. It's a -place where people go to forget." - -"I have heard that said about it, but somehow it didn't make that kind -of an appeal to me. I had the feeling that in such a place as that every -sorrow of life is a bleeding wound. There's a terrible cruelty about -that tropical sort of beauty. It drives memories in, not out." - -For some unaccountable reason the tensity of her tone annoyed him. "You -didn't like it then?" - -"It's beautiful, as I have said, but--I shall never go there again." - -"The place you ought to see," he told her, "is Cedargrove, about two -hours' trip to the south." - -"That's where the mineral springs are?" - -"Yes. And what I really came to tell you to-day is that I've bought the -controlling interest in the springs. It was after your brother had given -me his final analysis of the water last year that I decided to do it. He -said, you know, that in his opinion the medicinal ingredients equaled -that of the waters of Carlsbad. I've made great plans. You see, there -are twenty acres, and so far we've found eighteen springs. We've been -bottling the stuff for several months now and it's selling like hot -cakes. The next step is a hotel. It's not to be too colossal, but unique -in every respect. That's what takes in California. Show people that -you've got 'something different' and they'll jump to the conclusion that -because it's different it must be desirable. That's America. I've had -other chemists besides your brother tell me that the water is wonderful. -The best doctors in the South declare that those springs are a bigger -find than a gold mine." - -He had warmed to his theme now and his amber eyes glowed. And she -followed his words with that quick responsiveness that was all -unconsciously one of her chief charms. "And what are your advertising -plans?" she asked. - -It was like a fresh supply of gasolene to an engine. He plunged into -stupendous plans for a publicity campaign. "I'm doing most of the copy -work myself so far. I love the advertising game. I love telling people -what they want and making them want it. I'm calling it 'The Carlsbad of -America.' That will get the health-seekers, and health-seekers will pay -any price." - -For half an hour he talked, going into every detail of his plan. And -then all at once he stopped abruptly as though he had grown suddenly -weary of Carlsbad. She sat gazing into the fire, waiting in sympathetic -silence, for him to resume the subject. But he didn't resume it. When he -spoke again, his tone had changed as well as his theme. For the first -time the conversation became keenly personal. He talked about himself -with a humility that was quite new and, to his listener, somewhat -startling. - -"I don't think it can be a complete surprise to you," he said, "to know -how much I need you; how much I depend upon your sympathy and -understanding. You must have guessed something of my feeling. You are -too intuitive not to have guessed." - -Her frank, blue-gray eyes were fixed upon him with an expression that -baffled him, yet gave him hope. "No, it is not quite unexpected," she -admitted. "But I didn't realize that it had gone quite so far. It seems -to have all happened rather suddenly. We haven't known each other very -long; not nearly long enough for anything like this." - -"No. But I've been looking for you all my life. That ought to count for -something." - -"For something--yes. But not for so much as--that." - -"Love isn't a matter of time," he told her. - -"No. But it's a matter of exploration. It's a matter of finding each -other. And in the half a dozen times that you have called here, Mr. -Glover, we haven't talked about the finding kind of things. No, we don't -know each other. We don't know each other half well enough to consider -anything like this." - -"But we can get to know each other better. Is there any reason why we -should not do that?" - -She pondered this for a moment. "Well, for one thing, there is -distance." - -"There is no longer distance," he pleaded eagerly. "For I have severed -my connections with Mont-Mer." - -"Oh!" He couldn't tell whether the exclamation emanated from pleasure or -merely surprise. "You severed your connections there because of this new -Carlsbad plan?" - -"Partly because of that. But chiefly because a secretaryship to a rich -man doesn't get one anywhere." - -"I suppose not." - -Still he couldn't decide whether her interest now was genuine or only -courteous. But she would give him no further encouragement than to allow -him to call occasionally. And with this permission he went away well -content. - -Ten minutes after he heard the front door close, Clinton, in a -dressing-gown and slippers, appeared on the threshold of his sister's -room. "Gone, at last?" he queried. "What's Glover doing up here anyway? -I thought he was securely anchored with a millionaire hermit down -South." - -She spoke without turning from the dressing-table where she was shaking -her long dark hair down over an amethyst-colored negligée. "You don't -like him, do you?" - -"No, I can't say that I do." - -"Why not?" - -Before the directness of the question he felt suddenly shamefaced, as a -man always does who condemns one of his own sex before a woman on -insufficient evidence. "Oh, he's all right, of course. I have no reason -really for disliking the fellow, except----Well, he seems to like you -too much. And he's not your style. What did he want to-night?" - -"He wanted to tell me about a new scheme he has, a really wonderful -enterprise, Clint, for turning that mineral water place into a -health-resort. He's taken over most of the stock and he talked glowingly -about it." - -"He does talk well; I'll admit that. But who is going to capitalize this -venture?" - -His sister smiled. "Well, Clinton, I could hardly ask him that, you -know." - -"No, I suppose not. And if you had, I imagine that he would hardly have -liked to answer it. Anyhow, he's cheered you up, and I ought to be -grateful to him for that. It was a mistake for you to take that trip to -Mont-Mer, Crete. It was too much for you." - -She made no response to this, and her brother, noting the delicately -flushed face and languid movements, told himself reproachfully that the -mistake was in going away and leaving her to struggle alone with the -hospital venture. He sat down on a cedar chest beside the window. - -"Let's retint the whole lower floor, Crete," he suggested, seizing upon -the first change of topic that offered itself. "Now that this place is -to be a home again and not a sanitarium, let's retint and get the public -institution smell out of it." - -She laid down the ivory brush and turned to him. But her gaze was -abstracted, and when she spoke in a musing voice, her words showed that -she had not been listening. "Clinton, have you ever figured out just how -much of the Coalinga oil stock belongs to me?" - -He had been sitting with one knee hugged between his arms. Now he -released it and brought himself upright upon the cedar chest. - -"Why, no, I haven't. I don't think it makes much difference, while we're -living together, sharing everything this way." - -She got up from the dressing-table and walked over to the far window, -drawing the deep lace collar of the amethyst negligée up about her ears -as though to screen herself from his view. Out on the bay the lighted -ferry-boats plied their silent passage, and on the Key Route pier an -orange-colored train crawled cautiously, like a brilliant caterpillar, -across a thread of track. Marcreta, gazing out into the clear soft dusk, -sent a question backward over her shoulder. - -"Would it be very much trouble to go over our properties some time -and--make a division?" - -"No, it wouldn't be much trouble, and I suppose it would be much more -businesslike." He spoke briskly but she knew that her demand had -astonished him. "You know," he admitted ruefully, "I don't pretend to be -much of a business man. I think you may be right to insist upon an -accounting." - -"O Clint! I don't mean that. You know I don't mean that." Her voice held -the stricken tone of the sensitive nature stabbed by the swift -realization that it has hurt some one else. "You've been the best -brother a girl ever had. You've been too good to me. I didn't mean -_that_ at all." - -"What do you mean then, Crete?" - -Her answer seemed to grope its way through an underbrush of tangled -emotions. "I just thought it would be well for us each to know what we -have because--you see, we may not always be living together like this." - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -A month had passed since Kenwick became a member of the staff of the -"San Francisco Clarion." The work had been going well, and the perpetual -small excitement of a newspaper office brought back some of the old -thrill that he had known in his college days. But every emotion came in -subdued form now. There was a shadow across his sky, a soft pedal -applied to every emotion. And until this was lifted he resolved to deny -himself a sight of the house on Pine Street. - -But during the beginning of his fifth week in the city desire overcame -pride and caution, and late one night he walked up the familiar hill and -looked into one of the lighted windows. There was no one in the room and -the furniture and floors were covered with heavy canvas sheeting -spattered with calcimine. An ugly step-ladder stood directly in front of -the window, partly obstructing his view. He was about to turn away in -bleak despair when the glitter of some small object in a far corner of -the room caught his eye. Peering more intently under the half-drawn -shade he saw that the gleaming thing was a small tinsel ball suspended -from the lowest branch of a tiny Christmas-tree. It was almost New -Year's day now, and the little fir with its brave showing of gilt and -silver had been relegated to a distant corner to make way for the -aggressive progress of the painters. The man at the window, staring in -from the darkness at the drooping glory of the little tree, felt for it -a sudden sense of kinship. And the Christmas-tree stared back at him -with an inarticulate sort of questioning. There was to Kenwick a -terrible sort of patience in its attitude. Torn away from its normal -environment, transplanted suddenly and without warning into surroundings -giddily artificial, and bereft of the roots with which to explore them, -the little fir-tree stood there, holding in its out-stretched arms the -baubles of an unfamiliar and irrelevant existence. He turned away, -maddened by a fury that he did not comprehend. "Anything but that!" he -cried savagely. "Anything but the patience of hopelessness!" - -His thoughts were in a whirl, and he was unconscious of the fact that he -was almost running down the slanting pavement. When he became aware of -it he slackened his pace abruptly. He was a fool, he told himself. -"Anybody watching me would size me up for an escaped convict--prowling -around doorsteps at night; sneaking up to windows, like a professional -burglar looking over his territory." - -He let himself into his room at the St. Germaine and snapped on the -light. The first thing his eyes fell upon in the bare, prim chamber was -a letter propped against his mirror. It was a yellow envelope and it -bore the dull black insignia of the dead-letter office. There was -something ominous-looking about it. There is always something ominous -about that pale yellow, unstamped envelope that issues, unheralded and -unwanted, from the cemetery of letters. Inside of it was a communication -written upon the St. Germaine stationery and addressed in his own -handwriting to his brother, Everett Kenwick. It had been opened and -sealed again, and across one end something was written. The single word -seemed to leap out at Kenwick with the brutal unexpectedness of a bomb. -He dropped the envelope as though it had stung him and stood gazing down -at it. It stared malignantly back at him, burning a fiery path to his -brain. Up and down the room he strode muttering over and over to himself -that one horrible word: "Deceased! Deceased!" - -The walls of the room seemed to be coming closer and closer. He felt as -if he were being smothered. Taking his hat he went out into the hall, -and walked down the five flights of stairs rather than encounter the -elevator-boy. On the way down he decided to send a telegram of inquiry -to the family lawyer in New York. The indelible pencil handed to him by -the girl in the little hotel booth seemed to write the message quite of -its own accord. And there was a calming sort of comfort in the -impersonal manner of the telegraph-operator herself as she counted off -mechanically the frantic words of his query. - -As he turned away he was conscious of only one impulse; to be with -somebody. He must have companionship of some sort, any sort, or he would -lose his reason. From the dining-room there drifted out to him the -pleasant din of human voices. He made his way inside and followed the -head-waiter to his accustomed seat beside one of the mirror walls. - -The hotel dining-room was full that evening. There was an Elks' -convention in the city and the lobby swarmed with delegates. At his -table Kenwick found three other men, and was pathetically grateful for -their comradeship. Two of them were from Sacramento. The third -introduced himself as Granville Jarvis, late of New Orleans. Kenwick -remembered having seen him several times about the hotel. He had that -quiet, magnetic sort of personality that never comes quite halfway to -meet the casual acquaintance, but that possesses a subtle, indefinable -power that lures others across the intervening territory. "I have -something for you," Granville Jarvis seemed to say. "I have something -that I'll be glad to give you--if you care to come and get it." - -The other men talked volubly, including the quartet in their random -conversation. Jarvis was an appreciative listener, an unmistakable -cosmopolite, whose occasional contributions to the table-talk were -keen-edged and subtly humorous. In his speech lingered only a faint -trace of the Southern drawl. Of the three men, his was the personality -which attracted Kenwick. The two Elks finished their dessert hurriedly -and left before the coffee was served. Then Granville Jarvis, glancing -at the haggard face of the young man across the table, ventured the -first personal remark of the hour. "You've scarcely eaten a thing, and -you look all in. I don't want to intrude into your affairs, but is there -anything I can do?" - -It was that unexpected kindliness that always proves too much for -overstrung nerves. "I've just had bad news," Kenwick admitted. "It's -rather shaken me up. But you can't do anything, thanks." - -"Better take a walk out in the fresh air," Jarvis suggested. "I know how -you feel. It's beastly--when a man is all alone." - -"I am alone; that's the damnable part of it. And I've got to somehow get -through the night." - -The other man nodded with silent comprehension. "I'll take a stroll with -you if you like, and you don't have to talk." - -Kenwick accepted the offer eagerly, and for an hour he and his companion -walked almost in silence. Then Kenwick, still haunted by the specter of -solitude, invited the New Orleans man up to his room. There stretched -out comfortably in two deep chairs, with an ash-tray between them, they -discussed politics, books, and New York. "It's my home town," Kenwick -explained, "but I'm a Westerner by adoption. They say, 'Once a New -Yorker, always a New Yorker,' but it hasn't worked that way with me." - -Jarvis smiled. "They say that about Emporia, Kansas, too, and about all -the other towns ranging in between. It's a world-wide colloquialism. -Don't you go back to visit, though?" - -"I've been thinking of it," his host replied. And then, despite the -fact that his guest was a complete stranger, perhaps because of that -fact, he felt an overwhelming desire to tell him of his trouble. For -there is a certain security in confiding a sorrow to a casual stranger. -Every care-ridden person in the world has felt the impulse, has been -impelled to it by the realization that there is safety in remoteness. -You will never see the stranger again, or if you do, he will have -forgotten you and your trouble. A transitory interest has its -advantages. It demands nothing in the way of a sequel. It keeps no watch -upon your struggle; it demands no final reckoning. You and your agony -are to the chance acquaintance a short-story, not a serial. - -Jarvis was leaning back in his deep chair, one leg dangling carelessly -over the broad arm. His eye-glasses, rimmed with the thinnest thread of -tortoise-shell, gave him a certain intellectuality. Although he was -still in the early thirties there were deep lines about his mouth. He -had lived, Kenwick decided. And having lived, he must know something -about life. Jarvis glanced up suddenly and met his gaze. - -"Funny thing, my being here, isn't it?" he said. "Up here in your room, -smoking your cigars, sprawling over your furniture as though I'd known -you always instead of being the merest chance acquaintance." - -Mashing the gray end of his cigar into the ash-tray Kenwick made -slow-toned response. "I don't think it's curious. I don't think it's -curious at all because as I look back on my life all the vital things in -it have had casual beginnings. I have a steadily increasing respect for -the small emergencies of life. Whenever I carefully set my stage for -some dramatic event it's sure to turn out a thin affair. The best scenes -are those which are impromptu and carry their own properties." - -"That's flattering to a chance acquaintance, but a hard knock at your -friends." - -"I'm all for chance acquaintances," Kenwick responded. "Friends have an -uncomfortable habit of failing to show up at the moment of crisis. Just -when you're terribly in need of them, they fall sick or get absorbed in -building a new house, or go to Argentina. And then, before you have time -to grow cynical, along comes somebody that you just bow to on the -street, and he sees you are in trouble and offers a lift. The people who -really owe you something, never pay. They pass the buck to the chance -acquaintance, and nine times out of ten he makes good. Makes things -more interesting that way. After all, life isn't merely a system of -bookkeeping." - -Kenwick prided himself upon the fact that he had kept the bitterness out -of his voice, but when Jarvis spoke, this illusion was shattered. "Tough -luck, Mr. Kenwick. As I said before, I don't want to horn in, but I'd be -glad to score another point for the C. A. if it would be of any help to -you, and there's nobody else about." - -Kenwick put down his cigar. "To tell the truth, there's nobody about at -all. It happens that during the past year every friend I had has gone, -figuratively speaking, to Argentina. Some of them used to be -particularly good at helping me out with my yarns. I'm a fiction-writer, -you know, and I'm under contract to finish a mystery-story for one of -the magazines. I'm stuck, and it's bothering me a lot. Can't move the -thing a peg. I know that the man who talks about his own stories is as -much of a pest as the man who tells his dreams but if----" - -Jarvis had settled down into his chair with a sigh of luxurious content. -"Shoot," he commanded. "It's great stuff being talked to when I'm not -expected to make any replies. What's the name of it?" - -"It hasn't any name just yet, but I'll let you be godfather at the -christening. This is just a scenario of the situation, with all the -color and atmosphere left out." He reached over and snapped off the -chandelier light, leaving only the soft glow from the little brass lamp -upon the table. - -"The story," he began when he had resumed his seat, "hinges upon the -fortunes of two brothers--or rather the fortunes of one and the -misfortunes of the other. The parents die when the elder of the two is -thirty and the younger almost nineteen. The older brother has married, -and at the death of his mother comes back with his wife, to live at the -old home. But the sister-in-law and younger brother are not congenial, -and the boy, who has ambitions for a professional training decides to go -away from home to a distant university. There is very little opposition -to the plan. For the sister-in-law is in favor of it, and the elder -brother (who is guardian, of course, and a splendid fellow) consents on -the condition that the boy spend his summer vacations at home. He hopes -in this way to keep in touch with him and does. - -"In the spring of his senior year, America enters the war, and the boy, -now a man of twenty-three, enlists and in the autumn gets across. He -sees more than six months of action at the front without getting a -scratch. But at the end of that time his nerves go to pieces and he is -sent first to a convalescent hospital in England and then home. There he -finds the old place completely changed under his sister-in-law's régime -and he is so obviously unhappy about it that his brother suggests that -he accept the invitation of an old family friend and spend the winter -with him in his California home. He complies with this plan, the more -eagerly because it gives him an excuse to get back to the environment -which he has grown to love and the associates that he knew in his -college days. - -"Without adventure he arrives at the little southern California town, -and is met at the depot by his friend's chauffeur. But on the way out to -the house they meet with an automobile accident that shakes him up -pretty badly and, so far as he can determine from circumstantial -evidence, kills the driver. Stranded alone and injured in an unfamiliar -village, he applies at the first house he comes to for aid. It chances -to be one of those palatial country homes, so plentiful in that region, -which seems to have been built for the exclusive use of caretakers. For -although it is completely and elegantly furnished and bears every -evidence of being tenanted he stays there ill for more than twenty-four -hours, absolutely alone except for the presence of a mysterious woman -who is apparently locked into one of the bedrooms upstairs, and whom he -never sees. - -"On the second night he makes a surreptitious escape from this uncanny -prison, without ever having encountered its owner, and by a happy stroke -of chance, makes his way up the coast to San Francisco. Here he plans to -establish himself permanently, look up some of his old associates, and -get in touch with life again. But this scheme is thwarted in a most -unexpected manner. For on the morning of his arrival something happens -that makes chaos of his plans and starts him upon a quest, not into the -future, but into the past. In the station depot he stops long enough to -purchase a newspaper, and----" - -Kenwick paused for an instant and glanced at his auditor. - -"Go on," Jarvis commanded with that impatient curtness that is the best -assurance of interest. - -"He buys a newspaper," the narrator went on. "And from the date on it he -learns that instead of having lost connection with the world for two -days, he has been out of it for almost a year. There are ten months of -his life that he can't account for at all. - -"At the library he reads up and discovers that the war is over. From the -newspapers and magazines he picks up the thread of world events and -orients himself with regard to national and local affairs. But to -connect his own past and present proves, as you may suspect, an almost -hopeless task. He sends several telegrams to his own home, all of which -are ignored. A letter to his brother brings, after long delay, the -startling information that he is dead. The message bowls him over -completely. And the more the thing preys upon his mind the more certain -he is that there has been foul play. He begins to be haunted by the -conviction that he is being watched. The only safe course open to him -seems to be to lead as normal and inconspicuous an existence as possible -until he can hear from the family lawyer." - -Kenwick broke off suddenly and reached for the ash-tray. "Well," he -said, "what do you think of it?" - -Jarvis stirred in his chair. When he spoke he appeared to be returning -rather breathlessly from a long distance. "Great stuff," he commented. -"It seems to have all the ingredients for a best-seller, except one." - -"What's that?" - -"Well, I don't pose as a critic of literature. But judging from the -novels I've read I should say that the thing it lacks is romance. The -poor devil ought to be in love with somebody, or somebody ought to be in -love with him." - -Kenwick's face stiffened. It was apparent that he had not expected this -criticism. And he found himself envying those people who can discuss -their love affairs. But not to his best friend could he have mentioned -Marcreta Morgan's name. "I told you I was just giving you a scenario of -this thing," he reminded his critic. "I'll work up that part of it -later. As a matter of fact there is a woman in it. He proposed to her -before he went into the service and she rejected him." - -"And he didn't look her up afterward?" - -"Well, he could hardly do that, not until he had accounted for himself. -And especially as she had shown no interest in him whatever while he was -away." - -"You never can tell about a woman, though. The fact that he had come -back a pariah and was in trouble might arouse her love." - -"No, not her love; her pity perhaps." - -"Well, I won't argue with an author. They are supposed to be authorities -on such questions. Go on with the thing. Where _had_ the chap been -during those ten months?" - -"I haven't the least idea." - -Jarvis brought himself upright. "Why, you outrageous devil!" he cried. -"Getting me all worked up over a story that you can't see the end of -yourself! And how about the family estate? What became of that?" - -"I haven't finished plotting the thing yet. That's why I told it to you. -If I had solved all its problems it wouldn't have been necessary to -inflict it upon you." - -His guest rose and stretched himself. "Well, I'm afraid I wasn't much -help," he said ruefully. "Fact is, I haven't any creative imagination at -all. I'm the kind of reader that writers of detective yarns love. I'll -swallow anything that's got a little salt on it, and I never guess right -about the ending." - -He fumbled in an inside pocket of his coat and drew out a card. "I'd -like to have you return this call some time, Mr. Kenwick. I'm not far -away from you, just two blocks around the corner in the Hartshire -Building. If you care anything for photography, drop around some time -and I'll show you some interesting pictures. They are a harmless hobby -of mine. I fuss around in a laboratory over there most of the time, and -when I'm not there I'm in the dark room." - -Kenwick promised to come, and a moment later Granville Jarvis was gone. -Bereft of his sympathetic presence the room seemed overpowering in its -gaunt emptiness. The last two hours of genial companionship were swept -aside as ruthlessly as though they had never been, and Kenwick found -himself back again at that ghastly moment when he had torn open the -yellow envelope. For he was to learn, in the crucial school of -experience, that the sorrow of bereavement is not a permanently -engulfing flood, but that it comes in waves, ebbing away under the -pressure of objective living only to gather volume for a renewed attack. -And in the moment that its victim recovers a staggering strength, it is -upon him again, sweeping aside in one crashing moment the pitiful -defenses of philosophy and faith which the soul has constructed to save -itself from shipwreck. - -Until after midnight Kenwick sat at the window waiting for a summons -from the telephone. Then he went to bed and fell into a listening sort -of sleep. But not during that night nor in the days that followed was -there any response to his telegram. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -It was on the morning after his conversation with Jarvis that Boyer, of -the "Clarion," summoned Kenwick into his office. "Got a story here that -I'd like to have you hunt down," he said, and pushed a clipping across -the table. Kenwick read it with an interest that was painfully forced. -It was cut from one of the local evening papers and was a rather -colorless account of the spectacular achievements of one of the city's -trance mediums. He noted down the address and rose with a hint of -weariness. - -"The thing that makes her different from the others and worth a trip out -there," his employer explained, "is that Professor Drew of the -psychology department over at the university has set himself the task of -showing her up. She has done some rather dramatic things that have got -on his nerves and the other day he gave a lecture on her methods before -his abnormal psychology class and had the place packed. She has just -written a book too; bizarre sort of thing called the 'Rent Veil' or the -'Torn Scarf' or something like that. It ran in the 'Record' about two -months ago and they made a big hit with it." - -He leaned back in his chair and surveyed Kenwick speculatively. "What do -you make of it?" he asked. "This stupendous revival of interest in the -supernatural? Some of our greatest writers devoting themselves to -spirit-writing; some of our best citizens declaring that they get -comfort and inspiration out of the ouija-board and planchette?" - -"I think," Kenwick answered slowly, "that it is one of the inevitable -results of the war. It has caused a big upheaval in the spiritual as -well as the economic world. And one of the things that it has brought to -the surface is death. Of course death has always been with us but unless -it came right into our own lives we have persistently ignored it, as we -have ignored the industrial problems and immigration and a lot of other -things. But during the last few years death has been rampant. Everybody -has had to look at it from a greater or less distance. For awhile we'll -have to go on looking at it. And human nature is so constituted that it -has only two alternatives. It must either ignore things or try to -account for them. I don't think this renaissance of the supernatural is -anything unusual. Every great war must have been followed by a frenzied -season of accounting for death." - -The other man glanced at him with eyes in which there was no longer -impersonal speculation. "You've been touched by it too, Kenwick?" he -ventured. - -"Yes. My brother." - -"I'm sorry." He stretched out a hand. "Well, to get back to this Madame -Rosalie; get an interview with her and also with Drew. We'll give 'em -each a column on Sunday. We might be able to start a controversy that -would be worth while." - -And so, half an hour later, Kenwick was ringing the door-bell at a -shabby old house on Fillmore Street. As he stood there waiting he was -convinced that his only motive for the errand was a journalistic -interest. But if there is any season of life when the sane well-balanced -man or woman may be tempted into the region of the occult it is during -that interval between the shock of bereavement and readjustment to an -altered order of existence when the soul quivers upon the brink of two -worlds. The lapse of time between shock and readjustment varies with -every temperament, but in that period of helpless groping we all stand -close to the psychic, the unexplainable, the supernatural. - -If Kenwick had expected to find Madame Rosalie's domain extraordinary in -any particular, he was distinctly disappointed. It was one of those ugly -old frame houses with protruding bay-windows which still weather -competition with the concrete and stucco residences in every part of the -city. In the front basement window was the hideous sign of a -dry-cleaning establishment, and in the neighboring flat the windows were -placarded with the promise to supply "Costumes for All Occasions." - -In response to his summons a petite dark woman in a loose-flowing garnet -robe opened the door and voiced the professional query, "You have an -appointment?" - -When the visitor had admitted that his call was impromptu, she -considered for a moment. "I have a client just now," she explained, "and -you may not want to wait until his sitting is over." - -"I'll wait," Kenwick assured her. "How long does it take?" It was -instantly apparent from Madame Rosalie's expression that this query was -a violation of professional etiquette. As well inquire of a doctor how -long it will take to perform a major operation. - -Ignoring his query the medium opened the door wider and ushered her -caller into the front room. It was a dim commonplace apartment furnished -with flowered cretonne-covered chairs, a defiant-looking piano, and -gilt-framed pictures. "You will find some magazines here," she promised. -"Just make yourself at home, please." - -It would be a difficult achievement, the reporter decided, as he settled -himself in one of the rigid-looking chairs. And Madame Rosalie's tone, -though courteous, had not been eager or placating. It was apparent that -she had plenty of business. Her manner of greeting had been more like -that of an experienced and self-possessed hostess taken unawares by a -guest, than of an exponent of the supernatural. She was obviously an -educated woman. Her voice alone betrayed that fact, and she moved with a -grace that seemed somehow incongruous in those sordid surroundings. As -he sat beside the bow-windows, gazing out into the fog, Kenwick smiled -grimly. "I don't know Drew yet," he murmured, "but whoever he is, I'll -bet she can give him a run for his money." - -Within twenty minutes he heard low voices at the far end of the hall, -and then the sound of approaching footsteps. He rose and went to the -door. Madame Rosalie and her client were emerging from a shadowy chamber -whose door was draped with maroon-colored portières. The caller had -reached the hat-rack and was jerking himself into his overcoat when all -at once he stopped with words of astonished greeting. "Why, hello, -Kenwick!" He strode forward with extended hand. And Kenwick gripped it -with an equal astonishment. It was one of the men whom he had known well -at college. "Going it strong now that you are back in civilization -again?" On his face was genuine pleasure and the shamefaced expression -that it would have worn if the newspaper reporter had suddenly -encountered him tobogganing down one of San Francisco's hills on a -child's coaster. - -When he was gone the reporter followed his hostess into the room with -the maroon-colored curtains. It was as shabby as the waiting-room but -more comfortable and somehow expressive of a strong personality. Over a -felt-covered table, strewn with cards and stubs of pencils and other -aids to occult communication, was an electric bulb held in place by a -loop of white cotton string. Madame Rosalie motioned him to a seat -beside this table and sank into a deep chair on the opposite side. - -For a moment neither of them spoke. Madame Rosalie's eyes rested upon -her client with a scrutiny that was not inquisitive but almost -uncomfortably searching. They were dark eyes and brilliant with the -unnatural shining that is often caused by chronic insomnia. At first -glance he had thought that her hair was confined under a net; now at -close range he saw that it was cut short and waved alluringly over the -lobes of her ears. She had been a beautiful woman once, he reflected, -but life had given her brutal treatment. - -He picked up a crystal sphere that was lying upon the table. "Tell me -what you see for me in that?" he commanded. - -She turned it slowly under the light. Kenwick watching her, felt a -little cheated by the unspectacular quality of her technic. For all the -thrill which she seemed likely to give him, he might as well be opening -an interview with the census-taker. - -"You came," the medium said at last, still gazing into the depths of the -crystal, "to consult me, not about the future but the past." - -He made no response. - -"You are in trouble," she went on in the same unhurried voice. "You are -in great trouble--but you are not taking the right way out." - -"What is the right way out?" - -"You must have help." - -An expression of annoyance crossed his face. She would follow up that -statement, of course, with the suggestion that he enlist for a prolonged -course of "readings." He was preparing a curt dismissal of this plan -when suddenly she set the crystal down upon the table and looked at him -with compassionate eyes. "You must have help," she repeated. "But it -must be the help of some one who is dear to you--or _was_ dear to you." - -"Can you evoke such a spirit?" - -"I don't know. I never can promise, but I'll try." - -She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. The man, looking at -her from across the table, was startled at the change in her face. For -hers was that type of face which is dominated by the eyes. Without their -too brilliant light it suffered a complete loss of personality. Words -came at last through her slightly parted lips. "There is some one who -wishes to speak to you. I think it is a woman." - -"A woman!" Kenwick was not conscious that his tone held a note of -disappointment. "Who is she?" - -"I can't quite get the name. It's a difficult control. But she wants -very much to talk to you. She says----It will be hard to forgive at -first, but you must come back." - -"Back where?" - -The voice went on, unheeding. "She says----that she was influenced by -some one else--some one stronger. You must look for that man. You must -never stop looking for him----in crowds and everywhere you go you must -look. And when you see his face you will know at once that he is the -one, the only one who can help you. He is your missing link." - -There was a long pause. "Anything else?" Kenwick inquired at last. His -voice was guarded but he was strangely moved. - -"There is some one calling to you. He seems to be in a prison and he is -looking out through iron bars. They might be the bars of a gate. I can't -see the face, but some one is calling your name." - -"Shall I answer the call?" - -"No. There would be no use. It is too late now." - -Her eyes opened suddenly and met Kenwick's fixed upon them intent but -inscrutable. He stretched his hand across the table. - -"Read my palm." - -She held it only a moment but her eyes seemed to take in its every line -at a glance. "There is a perpetual conflict raging in your soul," she -said. - -He smiled. "That's true of most people, isn't it?" - -Madame Rosalie had a superb disregard for irrelevancies. "Part of you is -eager to plunge gallantly into the tasks of the present, but the other -part is holding you back. You have the drooping head-line with the -introspective fingers. It's a bad sign on the hand of the creative -temperament. And you are some kind of a creative artist; painter, -musician, or writer. But your head-line didn't always droop. It's a -recent tendency, so you have a good chance to overcome it." - -"How can I overcome it?" - -"In the first place, give up all idea of trying to reconcile yourself -with the past. You can't possibly do it and the effort may--wreck you." - -He got to his feet and stood looking down at her. "There doesn't seem to -be much ahead for me, does there?" he said. - -"There is everything ahead; all the tragedy is behind you." She was -still looking at him compassionately. "You are too young," she said at -last. - -"Too young for what?" - -"To have lost so much out of your life." Her voice was like red coals -leaping into sudden flame. It startled Kenwick. "And you are choosing -just the wrong way to wrestle with such a loss. You had originally a -splendid initiative, an impatient desire for action. But the artistic -side of your nature has assumed control of you. And the artistic -temperament is long on endurance and short on combativeness. If you -spent one-third of the time fighting this specter in your past that you -spend trying to reconcile yourself to it, you would win gloriously." - -For a few moments they stood beside the table talking of commonplaces. -Once Kenwick mentioned Professor Drew, and Madame Rosalie smiled. - -"I'm not afraid of him," she said. "And neither do I care to enter into -a public debate with him." - -She followed her client to the door. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to help -you more. But you are not ready for my help yet." - -Kenwick walked back to the "Clarion" office with these words ringing in -his ears. The messages from the other world may have been guess-work, -but at least she was a shrewd reader of character. And contrary to all -his expectations she had not made any effort to win him for a permanent -client. - -His Sunday story, featuring her and Professor Drew, was all that Boyer -had hoped for it. The astrologist was sketched with a few vivid strokes, -the room with the maroon-colored curtains more in detail, and an -interview reported which thrilled the souls of the credulous and held -even the attention of the skeptical. There was neither ridicule nor -championship in the story, and the caustic comments of Professor Drew -were bare of journalistic comment. Altogether, the thing worked up well -and made a hit. After reading it during his late breakfast at the St. -Germaine, Kenwick suddenly decided to go around to the Hartshire -Building and keep his promise to Jarvis. He found the photographer -enveloped in a long black apron and rubber gloves. "Good boy!" he cried -slapping his visitor on the back. "I've been thinking about you and that -cursed story you told me: can't get the blame thing out of my head. That -was good stuff about the clairvoyant in the 'Clarion' this morning. -Where on earth do you dig up those oddities? I recognized your -pen-name." - -He hung Kenwick's coat in a shallow closet as he talked. "You are in the -nick of time to help me with an experiment if you will," he went on. "I -want to do some research work on the human eye and I've got to have a -subject. I've got a lot of cards here--featuring optical illusions and -that sort of thing. Do you mind helping me for, say, half an hour? You -see, the human eye and brain are the ideal apparatus for perfecting the -camera and I'm working on an invention." - -Kenwick complied with alacrity, glad of the opportunity to get his mind -off of himself. For almost an hour Jarvis worked under the black hood of -the tripod while Kenwick reported on the images printed upon the cards. -When the tests were finished and he rose to go, the photographer pushed -aside his paraphernalia and wiped his forehead. "Hot as Hades under that -thing!" he cried. "Say, I was wondering the other day if you play golf." - -"I used to go out and play with my brother at his club," Kenwick -replied. "But it's been some time ago; I'd be a duffer at it now." - -"Well, I've got a card that will let us into the club over in -Claremont," Jarvis explained. "If you haven't got anything better to do, -what do you say that we meet at the ferry building about two o'clock -this afternoon and play a few holes over on the course? It's a great day -to be outside. Can you make it?" - -"Yes, I think so." For a moment Kenwick stood looking at his host with -an expression that puzzled Jarvis. Then abruptly he turned and went -away. Up the steep California street hills he strode, scarcely conscious -of the effort it cost. For a horrible dread was tearing at his heart. It -was not a new sensation to him, and its very familiarity made it the -more hideous; that persistent dread known only to those who are -struggling back over the hard road of mental prostration. The seed of it -had sprouted on the morning when he had bought that fatal newspaper at -the Third and Townsend Depot. And during the weeks that followed its -tendrils had wrapped a strangle-hold about his life. Sometimes it almost -stopped his breathing. And as yet he had never seen the thing that he -dreaded. It was not yet upon any one's face. But he assured himself -desperately that some day he would see it. Some day, when perhaps he -wasn't thinking about it at all, it would suddenly leap out at him. In -the eyes of some man or woman, or perhaps even some little child, he -would see suspicion or fear or morbid curiosity. Without being told, -they would know suddenly that here was a man who had once lost his -mental grip. They would be afraid that he might suddenly lose it again, -and that shuddering fear would send him reeling backward into the land -of shadows and specters. - -He stumbled on blindly, and through the blackness of his anguish there -came to him again the curious sensation that he had experienced on his -second night at Mont-Mer; the sensation of having lost some material -prop that could restore his courage. - -The genial suggestion of Jarvis that they play golf together over in -Claremont was like a cool hand laid upon his forehead. To Jarvis he must -seem sane and normal, capable at least of acquitting himself creditably -in the sport of sane and normal men. He ate a hasty and solitary lunch -and at two o'clock met the photographer in front of the flower-booth in -the ferry building for an afternoon at the country club. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -It was Sunday afternoon, and Marcreta was expecting a caller. "How long -do you think he'll stay?" Clinton demanded as they rose from their two -o'clock dinner. - -"As long as I'll let him, I suppose." - -"Well, call a time-limit, Crete." And then recalled suddenly to the -realization that he must begin making the best of a situation that gave -every evidence of forcing itself upon him for life, he added hastily, -"What's the use of trying that new cure if you're going to pull against -it all the time?" - -"Do you call this 'pulling against it'?" - -"I do, decidedly. Every time that man comes here you're strung about an -octave higher than normal." - -She looked at him, astonished. "Why, Clinton, I don't feel it myself. -I'm not conscious that he affects me that way." - -"He does, though. We all know people who affect us that way. And it is -not a question of attraction or aversion. Liking or disliking them -doesn't alter the fact that they have the power to screw us up. -Sometimes, of course, it's a beneficial stimulant, but you shouldn't be -taking anything like that just now. Give Dr. Reynolds a chance." - -"I will give him a chance. But to-day----Well, I promised Mr. Glover -that I'd listen to something that he has written." - -"Help! Then he'll probably be here to supper. I didn't know he'd broken -into the writing game." - -"I didn't either until the other day. But I think it is some advertising -for the new springs. He is very versatile. He does a number of things -and does them well." - -Her brother glanced at her sharply without replying. That note of -championship in her voice put an edge on his nerves. - -But she was mistaken in her guess concerning advertising matter for the -American Carlsbad. For when she and Richard Glover were alone in the -living-room he produced a copy of one of the popular magazines. "You -remember you said I might read you something to-day?" he began, drawing -his chair into a better light. - -"Yes. I have been looking forward to it with pleasure. But I thought it -would be in manuscript. It is something you have had published?" - -"My first attempt at anything in this line. It's a serial story and this -is the initial instalment. You see, I had a good deal of leisure time on -my hands when I was down at Mont-Mer and I've always wanted to try my -luck with a pen. I call this 'A Brother of Bluebeard.'" - -"That's a gruesome title, but excellently chosen if it's a -mystery-story. I'm shivering already." - -He settled himself with his back to the light and his profile toward -her. "I may as well tell you at first that I am not bringing this out -under my own name." - -"Why not?" - -"Because I wouldn't have felt quite free about writing it if I were -standing out in the open." - -"Oh, it's a true story?" - -"No, I can hardly claim that for it. It's rather a fantastic plot as you -will see. But every writer knows this, that when you first break into -print whatever you write is supposed to be transcribed almost verbatim -from actual experience, preferably your own experience. No matter how at -variance with your own life-plot the story may be, the people who know -you will leap to the conclusion that it is rooted in autobiography. -Imagination is the very last thing that our friends are willing to allow -us." - -"What nom-de-plume do you use?" - -"Ralph Regan. It's short and snappy and sounds as if it might be -genuine, don't you think?" - -He found the place and began to read in a resonant, well-modulated -voice. The opening paragraph was a little stilted, a bit amateurish, but -after that the story swung into bold and breathless action. It gripped -its hearer with a compelling force that held her tense and motionless in -her chair. Only the sound of the reader's voice and the crisp crackle of -paper when he turned a page broke the quiet of the room. Outside, a gray -January mist engulfed the city, and electric bulbs from the houses -across the street cut bleary patches in the mantle of fog. For almost an -hour Richard Glover read in his clear, unhurried voice, and Marcreta -listened, her wide eyes fastened upon his face. - -When he had finished, with the irritating promise, "To Be Continued," he -laid the periodical face-down upon the library-table and turned toward -her. In his amber eyes was a new light. A railroad switchman who faces -the company's president after saving a train from destruction might wear -just that expression. - -Marcreta seemed bereft of speech. She was staring at one of the lights -in the house across the street as though it had hypnotized her. One of -the delicate white hands was clasped tight upon the arm of her chair. -Richard Glover told himself that he had never seen her look so -beautiful. And for the first time since he had known her, there was not -a suggestion of invalidism in her tall, regal figure. She was wearing a -filmy gray dress with a touch of pink that seemed to give a heightened -flush to her cheeks. He allowed several seconds to pass. Was it -possible, he was wondering, that this "first story" had won that tribute -most coveted by all authors--the tribute of breathless silence? - -"Well?" he ventured at last. "What do you think of it?" - -She brought her eyes back to the room, to the magazine lying face-down -upon the table, but not to him. "I think," she said with a long sigh, -"that you are a wonderfully clever man." - -The light flickered out of his eyes. He leaned toward her with a -pleading gesture. "Is that all you are going to say to me?" - -"Isn't that enough? Wouldn't you rather have me say that than anything -else?" - -"You know I wouldn't. You know that there are many other things that I -would far rather have you say." He came over and stood beside her chair. -"Marcreta," he begged, "say just one of them. Say this--that you are -glad to have me come here. I wrote that story for you; because I know -that you value creative power more than anything else in the world. Are -you glad that I did it? Are you glad that I brought it to you?" - -She was looking at him now, all her ardent soul in her eyes. "I _am_ -glad," she breathed. "I can't tell you how glad." - -"Then I think you ought to give me some reward. I ought to have at -least----" - -She put out her hand with the imperious little gesture that he had come -to know well. "Not just now. Please, not just now. You see, you have -rather--swept me off my feet. Isn't that enough for one day?" - -"It is enough," he assured her exultantly. And when, a few moments -later, he climbed into the roadster that was waiting at the curb, he was -repeating the three words over and over to himself like a hilarious -refrain. - -Just at dusk Clinton came home and found his sister still sitting in -front of the gas logs where Richard Glover had left her. His step -startled her out of a reverie. "Oh, it's you, Clint! I'm so glad you've -come. The house has been full of ghosts." - -"I suppose so. Glover come?" - -"Yes. He has come and gone." - -He reached down swiftly and felt one of her hands. It was icy. -"Something has happened, Crete." The words were not a question, but they -demanded a reply. And she gave it without hesitation. - -"Yes, something has happened. I've got to take some action about it too, -but I haven't decided yet what it shall be." - -He stood on the hearth-rug looking down at her with a curious mixture of -annoyance and admiration in his eyes. It had always been so, he -reflected. About the trivial things of life she was willing to abide by -his judgment, but in every vital issue she took the initiative and -pushed her own convictions through. In the moment of large emergency she -had always stood superbly alone. As he looked at her a half-audible sigh -escaped him. After all, this semblance of vitality was but the ephemeral -stimulation of excitement. And he dreaded the bleak reaction from it; -that sudden ebbing away of hope, known to all of those who have kept -long vigils beside sick beds. - -"Let me manage it, whatever it is," he commanded. "I've told you before -that you're not strong enough for these emotional scenes. It isn't as if -you were a well woman." - -She lapsed into silence, and he felt a sharp twinge of self-reproach. It -was that double-edged remorse that chivalrous strength always feels when -it reminds frailty of its weakness. - -"Whatever it is, Crete," he hurried on, "can't you defer the action -until a more propitious time? Can't it wait until you are stronger?" - -A little choking sound came from her. He stopped short in swift alarm. -Never before in all the long years of her semi-invalidism had she let -him see her give way to tears. He went to her, moving uncertainly as -though through unfamiliar territory. She had covered her face with her -hands as though she could shut out with them the sounds of passionate -sobbing. - -"I'll never be any stronger, Clint. _You_ know it; _I_ know it. Why do -we drag on with this miserable pretense? Oh, it is killing me, but it -takes so long. Why can't I die?" - -He recoiled before that cry, before the havoc that it revealed to him. -Inwardly he cursed himself and then he remembered Glover, as he might -have remembered a gun which he had accidentally discharged, believing it -to be unloaded. He couldn't endure the thought that _he_ had hurt her -and, manlike, seized upon the first scapegoat that offered itself. But -he carefully refrained from a mention of the late caller. And when he -spoke his voice was harsh with feeling. "Crete, how selfish of you. If -you should die, what would become of me?" - -The promptness of her reply struck him like a blow. "You'd marry. You're -over thirty, Clint, and if it hadn't been for me you would have been -married years ago and would be living a normal life in a home of your -own. You think----" She was sitting upright now, facing him with a -terrible courage. "You think I don't realize what you have sacrificed. -Oh, if you only knew how I've lain awake at night, staring into the -dark, praying to die so that I could set you free. You promised mother. -I've always known that you did. But even if you hadn't, you would have -promised yourself. And _that's_ what has 'keyed me up,' as you express -it. That's what is making me live an octave higher than I can stand. It -isn't--any other man who is doing it. It's you." - -He sat down on the broad arm of her chair as though overcome by sudden -weakness. "Well, thank God you have told me this, Crete, before it eats -any deeper into your soul. Sacrifice you call it. But sacrifice involves -renunciation, and I have never renounced any woman for your sake. I have -never been engaged--nor wanted to be." - -"But you ought to," she told him violently. "You ought to, and you would -if you hadn't unconsciously put the idea away from you so many times. -You ought to have a home and wife and children. Oh, I know that you -should, and the knowledge has made me desperate." - -A dawning suspicion showed in his eyes and then they grew hard. "It must -have," he said coldly. "It must have made you very desperate indeed--if -you have been considering Glover as a way out." - -She met the charge without resentment. "What other way is there for me? -You see, there wouldn't be any danger of my--caring more for somebody -else afterward. That is quite beyond the range of possibility now, so it -would be safer for me than for some women. And physical disability, the -thing that made me--that would have made me refuse a man of a different -type, wouldn't count at all with him. His ambitions are purely material, -and I could capitalize them. That's all he wants. It would really be -quite a fair bargain." - -Clinton Morgan rose slowly and stood looking down at his sister as -though she were a stranger to whom he had just been introduced. "Well, -by Gad!" he breathed, and for a moment was bereft of further speech. And -then his words came slowly, and more as the detached fragments of a -soliloquy than a response to her own. - -"Crete, of all women in the world! You, with your temperament! With an -idealism that I and most other men couldn't touch with a ten-foot -pole--and yet you'd work out a proposition like that! I didn't know that -you saw through Glover. I made that excuse for you, that you were too -unsophisticated to see through him. But sizing him up for an adventurer, -you frame up a contract that----Why, I'll be hanged if I can believe -it, Crete. I simply can't believe it." - -She made no defense, and he went on in the same dazed tone. - -"Go out on the street and pick up the first girl you meet and bring her -in here. If I should make love to her and try to get her to marry me, -and succeed, I'd have a much better chance of happiness than this -adventure would ever give you. For, at least, I'd be swimming with both -hands free. Now listen." He seemed to become suddenly aware of her -presence again. "When I fall in love, I'll begin to think about getting -married. But I'm not going to be hurried into it by you or anybody else. -And when I decide to marry, not you nor anybody else shall stand in my -way." - -She reached for him with a convulsive gesture. "Clinton, do you mean -that? Do you mean that nobody should?" - -"I pledge you my word. But this has got to be a bargain. You have -demonstrated that you know how to make one. Now don't you ever let that -man cross this threshold again." - -"I've got to, Clint. After what happened this afternoon, I've got to let -him come--for a while." - -"Why?" - -"Sit down and let me tell you about it. I'll have to tell you, or it -will eat up my heart. But the thing will seem incredible." - -"Not to me. I think after what I've just heard that I can believe -anything." - -"Well, you remember that I told you he had promised to read me -something that he had written?" - -"Yes, advertising matter for the new Carlsbad." - -"I thought it was going to be that but I was mistaken. It _was_ -advertising matter, but not for Carlsbad." - -"For what, then?" - -"For Richard Glover." - -Clinton grunted. "I see. He is trying to win you by doing the _Othello_ -stunt on paper." - -Marcreta appeared to weigh the suggestion. "I don't think it is entirely -that. He wants money very badly. He has to have money, a lot of it, for -this hotel venture, and he is trying every means of getting it." - -"I've always been led to believe," Clinton interposed, "my friends who -write have always led me to believe that story-writing (and I assume -that this was some sort of story) is rather an uncertain means of -capitalization for a novice." - -"But this story was not written by a novice, Clint." Marcreta's voice -had sunk suddenly almost to a whisper. "It was written by----" - -"By whom?" - -"Roger Kenwick." - -Clinton Morgan stiffened in his chair. "_What?_" he cried. "You mean to -say that he had the nerve to steal the thing and bring it out under his -own name?" - -"He is too clever to bring it out under his own name. He chose a -fictitious name, and he changed the opening paragraph. But except for -that and the alteration of the title, I pledge you my word, Clint, that -that story is exactly as Roger Kenwick read it to me, before he went -into the service." - -There was a moment of silence. Clinton was recalling what she had said -when he came in about ghosts. He scanned her face uneasily. And he saw -in it the new expression which had startled Richard Glover. For the -first time in his life he began to think of her as she might be if she -were unhampered by physical infirmity. And then he fell to wondering -what had passed between her and Kenwick; just how far the tragedy of his -life had affected her. The Morgan reserve had kept her completely silent -upon this subject and he had never had any wish to intrude himself into -her confidence. He picked up the thread of the story where she had -dropped it. "How could it have happened? And how did he dare?" - -"I can't even make a guess at how it happened, but so far as daring -goes----Well, as I said, he is desperate for money. And the thing, as -looked at from his point of view, was not so very risky. Why should it -be? He must have discovered in some way that the--the author was not a -possible source of trouble. And who else could care about it? Never in -his wildest dreams would any one conjure up the possibility that I might -know. He doesn't have the least idea, of course, that I ever knew the -real author. What a nemesis! That he should have chosen me, of all the -people in the world, for his audience! It's so impossible that he will -never suspect it." - -"But what happened after he had finished? What did you do?" - -"Nothing, except to compliment him on his cleverness and try to hide -every emotion that I've ever had. It was hard; I think it's the hardest -test I've ever had to meet. But it has given me something that I never -have had before." Her voice grew husky with sudden embarrassment. "O -Clint, you were right about him. I've known for quite a long time that -you were right about him, but I couldn't admit it to myself; not with -the course that I had decided to take. But, Clint, although I knew he -was calculating and sordid and insincere, I didn't know this about him. -I didn't think he hadn't a sense of honor. If I had suspected that, it -would have made everything different. But you can see," she went on -eagerly, "you can see now why I must let him go on coming here for a -while? Why I can't let him get beyond my sight?" - -Her brother nodded. "Give him enough rope and he'll hang himself, that's -the idea, isn't it?" - -"I've got to be very careful, you see. He has told me a good many things -about himself of late, and I'm trying to fit them all together. Some of -them don't match at all. And now that he has revealed himself, I'm -beginning to doubt everything. That Mont-Mer secretaryship, for -instance, looks very improbable to me now. I've questioned him about -several prominent people down there, and he doesn't seem to have heard -of any of them." - -"Well, don't worry any more about it just now, Crete. Let's hustle -something to eat and call it a day." - -When his sister had gone to bed that night Clinton sat for a long time -in the library, staring into the fireplace. The little scene which had -been enacted there a few hours earlier had stirred him to the depths of -his being. It brought him perplexity and a poignant self-reproach. The -fact that she was not the crying type of woman made her emotional -abandon a particularly haunting thing. - -"I've been an awful ass," he muttered. "I can't see just now where it is -exactly that I failed. But it's evident that somewhere along the line -I've acted like one of the early Christian martyrs." - -He picked up a little volume that was lying at his elbow. It was a -dainty thing bound in gold and ivory. He remembered that Roger Kenwick -had given it to his sister on that last night when he had come to bid -her good-by. He had never looked into it before. Now he turned the pages -idly. It was modern verse, and he read intermittently here and there. -Among the leaves he came at last upon a folded bit of paper. It was in -Marcreta's handwriting; evidently something that she had copied. He -tilted it under the light and read the trio of stanzas. - - I cannot drive thee from my memory; - I cannot live and tear thee from my heart. - Is there no corner of oblivion's realm - Whence thy uneasy spirit may depart? - - If love were dead, if love could only die, - And leave me desolation and despair; - The emptiness of day, the aching night, - All these at last my soul could learn to bear. - - But ever when I think thy fire is spent - And seek the peace of death's all-sacred pain, - Behold, comes Memory with her torch a-light-- - And all my altar flames to life again. - -Clinton Morgan folded the bit of paper with reverent fingers. For he -knew, all at once, that this was not a copy of anything, but that he had -unwittingly torn aside the veil of his sister's secret soul. He felt all -of the honorable man's repugnance against outraged decency. The scrap of -paper seemed to scorch his fingers. With a punctilious regard for -detail, which he knew to be absurd, he tried to find the exact page -where it had been concealed. Then he put the volume back upon the table -and went over to the window. His conjectures concerning this romance had -come to an end. Now he knew, and knowing felt suddenly weighted with -guilt. - -He could imagine now how she must have felt as she had sat, a few hours -before, listening to the paragraphs of Kenwick's masterpiece as they -fell from the glib tongue of Richard Glover. There was an expression -almost of awe upon his face. She could write all that, feel all that -for one man, and then deliberately plan to marry another, to set _him_ -free! The thing seemed preposterous, and yet he knew it to be true. - -And then his thoughts reverted to Kenwick, and the days that now seemed -almost like the unreal days of a dream, when he had first known him over -at the fraternity-house in Berkeley. He recalled the night when he had -brought him home to dinner and introduced him to Marcreta and tried to -make him show off for her like a trained puppy. Perhaps it would have -been better if he had never brought him. But these things were in the -hands of fate and fate has an infinite number of tools. Standing there -at the window, gazing at the reflection of the gas logs mirrored against -the black pane, he found himself growing suddenly resentful of the -casual emergencies of life. Mere cobweb threads they were but upon them -hung the destinies of human souls. You turned the first corner instead -of the second in an hour of aimless wandering, and the circulation of -your life current was completely changed. It was folly to believe that -all the corners were posted with signs to be read and heeded by that -secret autocrat, the subconscious mind. The intricacies of such a -universe made the brain reel. It was better to believe that we played -the game blind, and that the stakes were to the courageous. - -He went back to the table and turned out the reading-lamp, blotting out -the sight of the white and gold book. - -"Lord! What a pity!" he murmured. "She would have been such an -inspiration to him. It was the devil's own luck. Poor Kenwick! Poor -little Crete!" - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -Madame Rosalie was setting her stage for a caller. It was evidently to -be an important client, for cards, crystal, horoscope, ouija-board, and -other handmaidens to divination were set forth upon the table in the dim -back parlor. The priestess herself, in her garnet-colored robe, moved -about the room with the noiselessness of a shadow. Although it was -barely dusk she drew the shades and swung the electric bulb over the end -of the table. Then she stood surveying her work with the critical -scrutiny of an artist experimenting for the best light upon his picture. -Her too-brilliant eyes roved restlessly from one carefully arranged -detail to another. - -Suddenly a footstep sounded outside, and there was a buzz of the -electric bell. Madame Rosalie waited exactly the correct length of time -before responding to its summons. The interval was expressive neither of -eagerness nor indifference. When she returned to her sanctum it was to -usher into it a man who moved hurriedly, drew off a pair of heavy -driving-gloves, and tossed them into the Morris-chair. The astrologist -removed them quietly to a settee in a far corner of the apartment and -seated herself in the chair. - -"They say you're the eighth wonder of the world." Her visitor spoke with -a thinly veiled sarcasm as he took his place under the light. "I might -as well tell you at the outset that I don't go in much for this sort of -thing. I'm here upon the suggestion of somebody else. I've known a good -many of you trance mediums and my experience has been that you're strong -on the future and weak on the past. You play safer that way. But it -happens that I want help with the past more than with the future. What's -the idea now? Are you going to hypnotize me?" - -His voice was not antagonistic, only briskly businesslike. He might have -been suggesting that he try on the suit of clothes which a salesman was -proffering for his favor. - -Madame Rosalie answered in the low, slightly indifferent voice that had -surprised Roger Kenwick. "Hypnotism is a coöperative measure. I couldn't -hypnotize you unless you were willing and would help me." - -He laughed. "That's a good deal for you to admit. Most of you people -claim to be able to do anything." - -"Do you wish me to try to hypnotize you?" - -"No, I don't care about it especially. It takes a lot of time, doesn't -it? Get busy on something that comes right down to brass tacks." - -She turned the crystal sphere slowly in her hand. "You are obsessed by a -fear, and you have reason to be. There is a very serious problem -confronting you, and you need help in solving it. I can't help you, but -perhaps I can find some one else who can." - -She gathered up a bundle of cards. At first glance he had thought they -were playing-cards, but he saw now that the reverse sides were all -blanks. "On each of these I am going to write a word," she explained. -"I'll hold it for an instant before your eyes. Read it, close your eyes, -and then look at those maroon-colored curtains over there." - -Without comment he followed these instructions. Ten minutes passed while -the client glanced at the cards and then at the curtains. Sometimes his -gaze strayed back to the bit of pasteboard before the medium had another -one ready. By the end of the hour she had cast his horoscope, read his -palm, and performed other mystic rites. Then she settled back in the -deep chair and announced herself ready to "project the astral body." A -few moments passed in absolute silence. The medium appeared to fall into -a light slumber, and the man on the other side of the table was prepared -to see her face contorted by the writhing pains of the trance victim. -But it remained calm, almost deathlike. His shrewd eyes were sizing her -up as she slept. He seemed almost to forget that he had come for -spiritual counsel, and his gaze was calculating, speculative, as though -he were considering her possibilities as an ally. Suddenly a voice came -from the depths of the chair. It made him jump. It was not the voice of -Madame Rosalie, but one that seemed vaguely familiar. - -"Marstan is dead." The words died away in a kind of moan. After an -interval of silence came the message, "He says to tell you that you have -found the criminal, and now is the time to act." She seemed to sink -deeper into oblivion. The client waited a full minute. Then he leaned -over and whispered through the stillness two words--"Rest Hollow." - -The medium's head rolled from side to side on the cushions of the -chair, like that of a surgical patient who is trying to escape the ether -sponge. "Gone!" she muttered. "All gone!" - -He swept aside the cards and ouija-board and leaned closer, his hands -almost touching hers. The amused skepticism had died out of his amber -eyes, and the question that he asked came in a tense whisper. "Where is -Ralph Regan?" - -A frown drew the woman's heavy black brows together. "Gone!" she -murmured again. "Gone!" - -It was not possible for him to determine from her tone whether she was -answering his last question or merely repeating her response to "Rest -Hollow." He tried again. - -And after a moment the reply came slowly through stiff lips. "The way -leads over a curving road. Follow that road to a place with a high stone -fence where the gates stand always open. There you will find him." - -He settled back in his chair, his eyes resting, fascinated, upon the -graven face. - -"Marstan is here." She spoke in her own voice now and there was in it a -note of infinite weariness. "He has something to say to you." - -The man smiled grimly. "I should think he would. Tell him to go ahead; -I'm listening." - -"He says you must give up the first plan----" She frowned in the effort -of transmission. "And the second plan--and try the third. He says there -is a woman working in the plan too: she has just begun to work in it. -You must get her aid or she might----" - -He leaned forward eagerly. "Yes? She might what?" - -"I don't quite get it. It's a difficult control. But he seems to be -afraid of that woman. He wants very much to warn you against----" - -She shivered slightly and opened her eyes. The man had left his seat and -was standing close to her side. "I hope you got what you want," she said -wearily. "I don't know when I've had a sitting that has cost so much." - -He crossed to the settee and picked up his gloves. "It must get on your -nerves. Suppose we go out somewhere and have a little bite of supper. I -know a place down on Dupont; no style about it, but they give you a -great little meal. What do you say?" - -She glanced at the nickel clock upon the mantel. "It's almost seven," -she demurred, "and I expect another client at seven-thirty." - -"No more sittings to-night," he decreed. There was an almost insolent -authority in his tone. "Time to call a halt. It's dinner-time in -heaven, and spirits must live. You're coming out with me. Get on your -street togs, little witch." - -Without further protest she obeyed while her escort waited in the shabby -entrance-hall. At the curb he helped her into the roadster, and five -minutes later they were seated at a small bare table in one of the -popular bohemian restaurants of the downtown district. - -"No Martinis any more," he sighed, as he helped her out of her cheap -coat with its imitation-fur collar. "Life isn't what it used to be, is -it?" His own hat and expensive-looking overcoat he hung upon the peg in -a diamond-shaped mirror bearing the soap-written injunction, "Try Our -Tamales." "But they serve a placid little near-beer in this place that -helps some. Bring two, waiter." - -When the attendant returned with the glasses, he tossed off the contents -of his at a gulp, but the woman sipped hers with the leisurely enjoyment -of the epicure. Then she set it down and stabbed with her fork at the -dish of green olives in the center of the table. - -The soup came, a rich bean chowder, which she ate almost in silence, -while her companion commented casually upon the service and furnishings -of the café. They had a rear table near the swinging doors that led into -the kitchen. It was not more or less conspicuous than any of the others. -The atmosphere of unconventionality which pervaded the place seemed to -envelop all its habitués in a sort of mystic veil that was in itself a -guarantee of privacy. At the table nearest them a girl was talking -earnestly to a man who sat with his arm about her. Madame Rosalie, -raising her eyes from her soup-plate, encountered the bold, appraising -stare of her escort. She returned it impersonally and with the flicker -of a smile, taking in the "freckled" eyes and the large thin hands. And -when she smiled her face re-gained something of a former beauty. The man -leaned toward her with a consciously confiding manner. "You call -yourself Madame Rosalie," he said. "But isn't it really Mademoiselle?" - -Her smile deepened but she gave him no answer. In the delicate, lacy -waist and white skirt which she had donned, she looked years younger. -There was a ruby pendant at her throat but she wore no other jewel. The -garish light of the café, shining upon her straight black hair, gave it -a luster that was like the dull gleam of jet. - -"Not Mademoiselle?" he queried again, and his smile was like the -password between two brother lodge-members. - -And then Madame Rosalie lost some of her inscrutable reserve. "Not -_Rosalie_," she corrected. "But it's a good name; as good as any other -for my trade, don't you think?" - -He turned one of the clumsy glass salt-shakers between his fingers. "The -name is all right," he admitted. "But--why do you do--that sort of -thing? You admit yourself that it's hard on your nerves. Why do you do -it--when you could do other things?" - -The waiter reappeared and littered the table with an army of small oval -platters. Odors of highly seasoned macaroni and ragout steamed from -them. Madame Rosalie dipped daintily into the nearest dish. But in spite -of her restraint, it would have been apparent to a close observer that -her enjoyment of the meal was the keen avidity of one who has been long -denied. When the waiter was out of hearing, she caught up the last words -sharply. - -"What do you mean by 'other things'?" For the first time her voice was -eager, as though seeking counsel. - -He shrugged. "_I_ don't pretend to be a clairvoyant. Yet I know that -there are other things that you could do--have done." - -"How do you know it?" - -"Well, in the first place, if you had been a medium for very long, the -clever medium that you undoubtedly are, you would have made more money -at it." - -"I have made money at it." - -"Not as much as you should have made. You wouldn't live as you do if you -had money." - -If she resented this assertion, she gave no sign of it, and he went on -with the cool assurance of a physician who is certain of his diagnosis. -"You may persuade yourself that you are in that business because you are -interested in it or because you know that you have an unaccountable -power. But you are doing it chiefly for the same reason that most of us -ply our trades; because you want to make money." - -"Well?" She commented, "It does supply me with a living, and you know -there's a theory that we must live." - -He laughed. "You don't have to live the way you do. There are much -easier ways for you to accomplish that end. Have you got anybody -dependent on you?" - -"No, but I am horribly in debt." The admission seemed to slip from her -without her permission, and when the words were out a little frown -puckered her forehead. The eyes of her escort were fixed upon the ruby -pendant, so obviously a genuine and costly stone. She toyed absently -with it, putting a cruel strain upon its slender thread-like chain of -gold. "Do you know," she said slowly, "I believe you would make a -wonderful hypnotist. I believe that you could even hypnotize me." - -The bold amber eyes gazed straight into hers. "But you told me, didn't -you, that hypnotism had to be a coöperative measure? You said, I -remember, that nobody could hypnotize anybody else unless--unless the -victim were willing." - -One of his hands closed over hers as it reached for the sugar-bowl. She -made no effort to draw it away. - -"Perhaps," she answered softly, "perhaps the victim _is_ willing." - -He stacked up a little pile of the oval platters and pushed them -impatiently to one side. "I guess we understand each other all right," -he said. "You need me and I need you. We've each come to the place where -we need help. Now let's not waste any more time about it. Let's get down -to brass tacks." - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -It was seven o'clock on a rainy evening, and Kenwick turned up the -collar of his coat as he left the St. Germaine. Inside the Hartshire -Building there was a cheerful warmth that promised well for the evening. -He ignored the elevator and walked up the three flights of stairs to the -floor where the photographer had his rooms. On the way, he tried to -persuade himself that he was not doing this in order to gain time. But -there was a good hour intervening between now and time to start for the -theater, and at the end of that hour, he reflected Jarvis might not care -to keep the engagement. - -As he toiled upward Kenwick considered every possible detail of the -scene that was before him, and then wearily discarded them all. "Why do -I do it?" he challenged himself, as he reached the last landing. "How do -I dare to do it? My God! I can't afford to do it; I've got to have one -friend left!" - -But as he had once told Jarvis, those scenes of life whose settings are -scrupulously ordered usually lack dramatic climax. At the end of what he -was pleased to characterize as his "confession," the photographer -surveyed him with sympathetic but unastonished eyes. - -"I'd begun to think that there might be something personal in it," he -commented. "I could see that there was something lying heavy on your -chest. It's a devilish mess, isn't it?" - -The other man was looking at him with a disconcerting sharpness. But the -thing for which he probed was not in Granville Jarvis's eyes. - -"I seem to be such a helpless sort of brute," his host went on, and -pushed a box of cigars across the table as though in an unconscious -effort to make up with tobacco what he lacked in counsel. "I never can -think of the right thing to do just on the spur of the minute. -Inspiration has an uncomfortable habit of failing to keep her -engagements with me." - -"I didn't expect any advice," Kenwick told him. "But it's a relief to -tell you and get it off my mind; to tell you and yet not have you think -that I ought to be locked up." - -"Somebody ought to be locked up," Jarvis remarked grimly. "And it's your -job to find that person. Why don't you go East?" - -"I am going East. I've decided to go next week. It would be hard to make -you understand why I haven't done it before, but----Well, this sort of -an--illness does a terrible thing to a man's soul, Jarvis. It paralyzes -his initiative. It gives him the most deadly thing in this world; the -patience of despair. I'm constantly _waiting_ for things to clear up -instead of going at them hammer and tongs." - -His companion nodded. "I think I understand. It would be the hell of a -situation for you back there among people you've always known, and who -presumably know all about you, and not being able to bridge the gap. I -can see why you wanted to get a line on yourself first, and you're -right, too. After all, a man owes something to his nervous system. But -since you've decided to go and brave it out back there I think I'd let -things rest the way they are till you go. Sometimes life works itself -out better if we don't interfere too much. Somebody is bound to make a -foolish play if you let them all manage their own hands." - -"And yet somebody told me the other day, Jarvis, that I was too passive -in the crutches of fate; that I ought to be more combative, more -aggressive." - -Jarvis laughed. "I'd be willing to bet that it was a woman who told you -that." - -"Yes, a woman did tell me. It was that trance medium." - -"I might have guessed it. By the way, I went to see her myself the other -day. Your story got me interested. She ought to have paid you a liberal -commission for that yarn. But I suppose she doesn't even know you wrote -it. She struck me as being a mighty clever little woman. Well, it's -after eight o'clock. Let's go." - -They found their seats in the first row of the balcony. The house was -brilliantly lighted and filling up rapidly. But although Jarvis had -urged his companion to forget for a time the tangle in which he was -enmeshed, it was he who returned to the theme while they sat waiting for -the curtain to rise. - -"The trouble is, there's a missing link in the chain somewhere. I don't -mean an event, but a person. Somebody dealt those cards, of course, and -whoever did it knows where the marked one is. The New York trip may be a -wild goose chase after all. Did you ever think of hiring a detective to -help you out?" - -"Yes, I've thought of it a lot. But somehow I don't want to do it. I -don't want to have anybody mixed up in my affairs as intimately as -that. I can't explain my feeling about it. But there is so much noise -about this sort of thing if it once rises to the surface, and if there's -any graft connected with my name, I'd like to keep the scandal private. -Besides," he laughed with a tolerant self-indulgence, "I don't suppose -the person lives, Jarvis, who doesn't believe that way down inside of -him somewhere, sleeping but never dead, is the genius of the detective. -I've made a sort of a covenant with myself that I and no other shall run -this thing to cover, and do it without kicking up a noise." - -Jarvis was staring speculatively at the foot-lights. "It's one of the -most curious cases I ever knew. I'll tell you what, Kenwick. You're the -original 'Wise Man from Our Town.' Remember him? - - "And when he found his eyes were out, - With all his might and main, - He jumped into the bramble-bush - And scratched them back again." - -"A dangerous experiment, I always thought," Kenwick remarked. - -"So is dynamite, but sometimes we have to use it, and nothing else will -take its place." - -"Are you advising me to put a bomb under somebody on the chance that it -might be the man who shuffled the deck?" - -"No. I'm advising you to do the bramble-bush stunt. Don't jump forward; -jump back." - -"What do you mean?" - -"Why, the more I think of it the more I believe that the solution of -this mystery is to be found in the place where it began." - -"But where did it begin?" - -"So far as your knowledge of it extends, it began in the cañon or ravine -or whatever place it was that you had the accident. If I'm not mistaken, -Kenwick, that place is your bramble-bush." - -The curtain rose upon the first act and there was no opportunity for -further conversation. It was during the intermission between the second -and third acts that Jarvis, leaning over the balcony, said suddenly, -"There's a friend of yours; fourth row on the right." - -Kenwick made a cursory examination of the seats and shook his head. -"Don't see him. Don't see anybody I know here to-night except Aiken, our -dramatic critic." - -"This is a woman. Count seven seats over in the fourth row. Isn't that -lady in the garnet-colored coat your Madame Rosalie?" - -"You're right; it is." - -"I thought I couldn't be mistaken. There's a certain air of distinction -about that woman in spite of----" Jarvis stopped, for he saw that his -companion was not listening. For a moment Kenwick sat there staring down -at the fourth row like a man in a dream. Then he gripped Jarvis's arm. -"Look!" he cried. "Down there with Madame Rosalie." - -"What's the matter? You're such an excitable cuss, Kenwick." - -"That fellow who's with her. Look! Jarvis, _that's_ the man!" - -"What man?" - -"The man we've been talking about--my Missing Link." - -Together they leaned over the balcony and scrutinized, with the intent -gaze of a pair of detectives, the couple in the fourth row right. It may -have been coincidence, or it may have been that species of visual -hypnotism known to us all, which suddenly impelled Madame Rosalie's -escort to turn in his seat. His eyes swept the house with a casual -glance, then lifted to the balcony. Slowly they surveyed the arc of -faces above the lights. The two men leaning toward him did not move. In -another instant he had found them, and for a full minute he and Roger -Kenwick held each other. And then the theater went black as the curtain -rose on the last act. - -Just before it was over Kenwick bade his companion a hurried farewell. -"I'm going down and introduce myself to that fellow. I know I've seen -him before somewhere, and he may be able to give me my clue. You don't -mind if I break away? I want to catch him before he is lost in the -crowd." - -But this hope was thwarted. For hurrying down the aisle in that moment -before the rush of exit, while the audience was finding its wraps, he -found two seats in the fourth row empty. Slowly he walked back to the -St. Germaine, his thoughts in a tumult. Why should they have wanted to -leave before the end of as good a performance as that? Something must -have happened. Could it be that they had wanted to escape him? At such -long range it hadn't been possible for him to determine whether or not -there was a flash of recognition in the other man's eyes, but his -mysterious disappearance was haunting. On the following morning, before -going to the "Clarion" office he took a car out to Fillmore Street. - -At Madame Rosalie's shabby home a man in shirt sleeves opened the door. -"Oh, she don't live here any more," he explained to the caller. "She -moved a week ago. I'm gettin' the place ready for a new tenant." - -"Do you know where she went?" - -The man grinned. "Them mediums don't generally leave no forwardin' -address. Their motto is 'Keep Movin'.' I will say, though, that the -Rosalie woman was a perfect lady and paid her rent regular in advance." - -Kenwick walked away, turning this latest development slowly in his mind, -looking at it from every angle. At his office he worked mechanically, -scarcely conscious of what he wrote. He was in two minds now about the -Eastern trip. Perhaps it would be better to take Jarvis's advice and let -things have their head a bit longer. And he was certain of some of his -facts now. The face of the man in the fourth row had been like the flash -of a torch at midnight. For most of the night he had been awake, going -back over the painful trail of the past, fitting some of its previously -incomprehensible details into their places. What a curious mosaic his -life had been! What contrasts of light and shade! But as for going back -to Mont-Mer----The idea made him shudder. No, that was one thing he -would not do. It would be like courting the return of a nightmare. - -At four o'clock he left the office and went to keep an appointment with -Dr. Gregson Bennet in the Physicians' Building. Dr. Bennet belonged to -that class of specialists who designate their business quarters in -plural terms. His offices comprised a suite of four rooms. The sign on -the door of the first one invited the caller to enter, unheralded. -Complying with this injunction, Kenwick found himself in a well-lighted -chamber containing a massive collection of light-green upholstery and an -assortment of foreign-looking pictures artfully selected to convey the -impression that their owner was on chummy terms with the capitals of -Europe. - -As the door closed automatically behind him, a white-uniformed figure -appeared, like a perfectly trained cuckoo, from the adjoining room and -announced in level tones, "The-doctor-will-see-you-in-just-a-minute." -Kenwick accepted this assurance with the grave credulity that one -fiction-maker accords another. He glanced at the five other patients -already awaiting their turns and picked up a magazine. - -By four-thirty he had read the jokes in the back of "Anybody's Magazine" -for the preceding six months. No physician in reputable standing ever -removes old numbers of periodicals from his files. For what better -testimony can he offer in support of his claim upon a long-established -practice? As Kenwick read, he was aware that his companions were being -summoned one by one to embark upon that mysterious journey from whose -bourne no traveler returns, departure having been arranged for around -some obscure corner, to prevent exchange between arriving and retreating -patient of a "Look! Stop! Listen!" signal. - -By five o'clock only one other patient besides himself remained; a -little woman in shiny serge suit and passée summer hat. Kenwick put down -his magazine with a long-drawn sigh, and she smiled in patient sympathy. -"Gets pretty tiresome waitin', doesn't it?" she ventured. - -His quick eyes took in her shabby suit and the knotted ungloved hands. -She was probably the mother of a growing family, he reflected, and would -not get home in time now to prepare dinner. His easy sympathy flared -into words. - -"It's an outrage to keep people waiting like this when they have an -appointment for a definite hour. They tell me Bennet's a nerve -specialist, and I believe it." - -She smiled wanly, but there was an eager championship in her response. -"Oh, but he's wonderful! When he once begins to talk to you, you forget -all about bein' mad at him. Seems like he sees right through your head -to tell what's the matter with you." - -The white uniform appeared and pronounced a name: "Mr. Kenwick." He rose -and followed her through the door. The second room was like the first, -minus reading-matter and plus wall-charts. Here he sat, gazing at the -fire-escapes on the opposite building, while the white uniform made a -not completely satisfying attempt to collect family statistics. And -then, at last, the door of the third room opened and Dr. Bennet himself -emerged. He was enveloped in a heavy white apron that recalled to -Kenwick's mind the pictures he had seen in the agricultural magazines -featuring model dairying. - -But if the specialist had been slow to admit him, he was equally -reluctant to let him go. When he had finished his examination, Kenwick -stood beside the couch in the fourth and last room pulling on his coat. -"Then you think I'm in pretty good condition, doctor?" Through the -half-open door he could see the white uniform hovering, like an emblem -of peace, above a steaming basin of warlike instruments. - -"I should say," the physician told him slowly, "that you are absolutely -sound. Your nerves are a bit too highly charged, but I imagine that is -more a matter of temperament than overstrain." - -"Is that all?" - -"No, that isn't all. The history of your case, as you have given it to -me, is a most interesting one. And you were right to let me make the -examination and form my own conclusions before telling me anything about -your history. I wish it were possible for you to recall the name of the -physician who handled your case in France. I'd like to get the -scientific beginning of the story. Without it I can only make a guess, -and guessing is not satisfactory. But I think that in his place I should -have taken the chance and operated. However, you can't judge; he may not -have had the proper equipment. I wish you would come around next -Saturday when the office is closed, and let me make some X-ray plates. -I'd like to display them at the medical convention in April." - -"And what do you advise me to do for my--my mental health?" - -"Forget your mental health. Take some regular out-of-door exercise and -mix with your friends. I can't give you any better prescription than -that. If it were something done up in pink paper you'd be more apt to -take it, I know." - -Kenwick walked back through the darkening streets with a feeling of -exultation. The pendulum of his despair was swinging backward to a -height only attained by those who can plumb the depths of wretchedness. -For the first time in six weeks he felt his old defiance of life. And -recalling the pale ghost of a former prayer, he was ashamed of its -cowardice. "_That_ never happens to the desperate and the lonely," he -reminded himself grimly. "The best security on earth for a prolonged -life is to express a sincere desire to die. After that, you lead a -charmed existence. Houses burn to the ground and not one inmate escapes; -ships go down with everybody aboard; pedestrians are run over by cars -and shot by thugs, but none of these things come near the man who courts -them. They overtake those whom others find it hard to spare, those whose -lives are vivid with purpose." - -As he walked back to the hotel he found himself thinking of Marcreta -again. Had he ever really made a place for himself in her life? Whether -he had or not, he knew that he had never, even in his blackest moments, -given her up. All the plans for his future centered still about her. -Well, he had a fight before him now, and not until he won it would he -make himself known at the house on Pine Street. - -On the corner a newsboy thrust a paper under his face. He waved it -aside. "I can read all that bunk for nothing, sonny," he told him -cheerfully. The huge head-lines filled him with a spiritual nausea. The -chronicle of the day's tragedies for the public to batten upon! Was -there never to be an end to America's greed for the sensational? - -At the St. Germaine the clerk handed him a telephone call. It was from -Jarvis and urged him to call him up immediately. In his own room Kenwick -complied with this request. The voice of the Southerner came to him, -sharply commanding, over the wire. "Can you come around right away? I -want to talk it over with you." - -"Talk what over?" Kenwick's voice was almost defiant. - -"Why, haven't you seen it? Well, come around anyway. I'll be here for -the next hour." - -When Kenwick arrived at the Hartshire he found the photographer sorting -over a pile of films. But as his guest entered, he swept these into a -pasteboard box, and cleared off a chair for him. "Where have you been?" -he demanded. "I called you at the hotel and the 'Clarion' office twice." - -Kenwick gave him a brief account of the last two hours. Jarvis grunted. -"Well, I don't blame you for wanting to get the seal of scientific -approval but--I can't believe that you haven't read the 'Record' yet. -And you a newspaper man!" - -He fished the paper out from under a stack of developing-trays and -searched the columns of the second page. "Remember what I suggested to -you last night, that you let things take their own course for a while? -Well, it seems that they've been taking them in rather a headlong -fashion." He creased back the page and handed the paper to Kenwick. -"Read that and see if it doesn't give you something of a jolt." - -He took the paper. The head-lines at the top of the third page riveted -themselves upon his brain. - - RELATIVE SEEKS MISSING MAN - - Body of Roger Kenwick to Be Exhumed at Mont-Mer - - The body of Roger Kenwick, son of the late Charles Kenwick, of New - York, who died at Rest Hollow last November, is to be exhumed for - examination on the demand of Mrs. Hilda Fanwell, of Reno, Nevada. - Mrs. Fanwell, a widow, arrived from her home last week in search of - her brother, Ralph Regan, who has been a resident of Mont-Mer for - the last two years. A letter received from him in the early part of - November indicated, according to the sister's statement, that he - was in failing health. Being unable to come to him then, owing to - the illness of her husband, Mrs. Fanwell wrote several letters, - none of which were answered. The description of her brother, which - she furnished the police, has resulted in a demand to the - authorities to have the body of Roger Kenwick exhumed. - -Kenwick let the paper slide to the table. "My Lord!" he murmured. -"Jarvis, what would you do about it?" - -"Why should _you_ do anything about it? This Fanwell woman is apparently -the oldest Gold Dust twin. Let her do your work." - -But Kenwick's eyes were still fixed upon the paper. Over it a drop of -acid from the developing-tray was eating a slow passage. "But to see my -name tied up to a gruesome thing like that----Why, you can't imagine -how it----It gives me the feeling that--that I've just begun on this -thing. And I thought when I came in here that I had all the cards in my -hands." - -He got up from the table slowly, like a hospital patient testing his -strength on the first day out of bed. And Jarvis, after one glance at -his pale face, rose too. "You've got nothing to worry about----," he -began. But Kenwick waved the soothing aside with a fierce impatience. - -"Nothing to worry about?" he cried hotly. "Don't offer me that stuff, -Jarvis. How do I know--how _can_ I ever know what I may have done during -those ghastly ten months?" - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -When Kenwick entered the St. Germaine on the evening after his interview -with Jarvis, a man rose from the farther corner of the lobby and came -toward him. "Kenwick!" he cried, and held out his hand. "I thought you -never would come. I've been waiting here an eternity." It was Clinton -Morgan. - -When the first, somewhat incoherent greetings were over and the two men -sat facing each other across Kenwick's untidy writing-table, a moment of -embarrassed silence fell between them. Then, in a desperate attempt to -start the conversation, "I'm afraid I've kept you waiting rather a long -time," the host apologized. - -"You have," his caller agreed. "It's been more than a year, hasn't it?" -He spoke in a cheerful, matter-of-fact tone as though a mere -pleasure-trip had intervened between this and their last encounter. But -Kenwick was looking at him intently. - -"You know--about it then?" - -"Yes, we know all about it." Clinton Morgan leaned over and put his -hand affectionately upon the other man's shoulder. "And, by George, -Kenwick, I congratulate you. I congratulate you from the bottom of my -heart. It was one chance against a thousand that you could win out. It's -a miracle!" - -Kenwick was scarcely conscious of the last sentences. His attention had -stopped short at that word "we." He reached down and picked a burnt -match from the carpet as he asked with a pathetic attempt at formal -courtesy, "How is your sister?" - -"Getting well, I believe. She has been----Well, this case of yours is a -most enthralling one, Kenwick. Anybody would be interested, but -particularly any one who has known you. We have been following it with -great interest." - -Kenwick looked at him incredulously. "How could you?" - -The caller shifted his position uneasily. "Well, that's rather a long -story. And Marcreta might prefer to tell you part of it herself. And -that brings me to my errand. I came here to ask you up to the house. -We've just got the old place fixed over, and,"--he glanced at his -watch,--"it's not nine o'clock yet. If you haven't something else on -hand that----" - -Kenwick cut in almost harshly. "Are you sure that your sister would care -to see me? That she wouldn't perhaps be--well, afraid of me?" - -Morgan laughed. "Well, I'll be there, you know, if you should get -violent and begin throwing things around." - -But the other man's face did not relax. His voice came low and strained -as though it were being let out cautiously under high gear. "You don't -understand. Nobody can, I suppose, who hasn't been through this -experience." His nervous hands stiffened upon the arms of the chair. "I -tell you, Morgan, it's easier for a denizen of the underworld to live -down her reputation and achieve a reputable place in society than for a -man or woman to regain the confidence of the world after a period -of----Well, I may as well out with the damned word--insanity." - -"Don't call it that, Kenwick. It wasn't that. In the trenches you got a -blow that put you out of commission. But you were simply in a dazed -condition; mental aberration beginning with melancholia. You were never -violently insane; never dangerous to anybody else." - -"How do you know? How do I know? I've suffered the anguish of hell, -wondering about it. Somebody may have been killed in that accident that -restored me to life. It may have been all my fault. I don't know. I've -spent the last month trying to find out in a quiet way. I suppose you -think I'm a coward for not going at it more directly." He looked at his -companion with a defiant appeal in his eyes. "But there were reasons why -I didn't want to kick up a lot of notoriety about myself. For any harm -that ever came to man or woman through me, I'm eager to pay. No court -decision would have to make me do it; no court decision could keep me -from doing it. But I wanted to save my name if I could. I wanted to save -my name so that some time it might be fit----" - -"I know." Clinton Morgan interrupted hastily. The memory of that -traitorous bit of paper which he had discovered in the gold and ivory -book came back to him and brought a guilty flush to his cheeks. Whether -he would or no, he seemed to hold in his own hands all the threads of -this tragic romance. A line of Marcreta's lyric drifted through his -brain: - - Whence thy _uneasy_ spirit may depart? - -How well that word had been chosen to describe and conceal the living -death which this man had suffered! - -"You see," Kenwick went on, "I'm the spiritual counterpart of the Man -Without a Country. I don't belong anywhere. And, more than that, I'm a -charge on the public conscience. Everybody who knows about my period -of--of incompetency belongs to an unofficial vigilance committee, whose -duty it is to warn society against me." - -Clinton groped for a reply, but words would not come. And the fact that -there was no bitterness in the other man's voice, but only the level -monotony which is achieved by long suppression, made it infinitely -pathetic. - -"If it suited your whim to do so," Kenwick continued, "you might reverse -the usual order of dining; begin with pie and end with soup. And the -public would regard it either as a new cure for dyspepsia or an -eccentricity of genius. But if I should try it, somebody would -immediately suggest that I shouldn't be allowed at large. It's the irony -of fate that I, who have always had a contempt for the trivial -conventions of life (such a contempt that my sister-in-law never quite -trusted me in polite society), should now be in a cowering bondage to -them. I live all my days in a horror of doing something that might -appear erratic. And I spend the nights going back over every inch -of the road to see if I have. Why don't the adherents of the -fire-and-brimstone theory picture hell as a place where we can never act -on impulse? As a place which dooms us forever to a hideous -self-consciousness?" - -Clinton Morgan spoke with a sort of angry championship. "You've had -tough luck, my boy, the toughest kind of luck. But you've come out of it -all right. By George, you can show the world now that you've come out on -top." - -"I haven't come out; that's just the trouble. I'll never be out of the -woods until I've accounted for them. Did you read last night's paper, -Morgan?" - -"Yes. That's one thing that brought me here. Let me tell you something, -Kenwick. Until about a week ago we thought you were dead. And we were -relieved, for we felt that it was a happy release for you; your only way -out. And then one day, not long ago, we got a clue." He still clung to -the plural pronoun. "We fell over a clue, you might say, which aroused -our suspicions--and we followed it down." - -"You followed it down!" Kenwick cried. "You cared enough about it for -that?" - -His friend's reply came through guarded lips. "You have suffered -horribly during these past months," he said. "But you are not the only -one who has suffered." - -Kenwick glanced at him sharply. Then he seemed to sense the delicacy of -the other man's position. "It's just this," Kenwick explained after a -moment of silence. "Since this--this thing fell on me, I instinctively -divide all people into two classes; those who knew me before it -happened, and those who have only known me since. With the second group -I'm always wondering if they are still unsuspecting: with the first, I'm -wondering if they will ever be convinced. But go on with your story. -What did you do about the clue?" - -"I'll tell you about that later. It's enough to say right now that -Richard Glover----" - -"Glover!" The word seemed to explode from Kenwick's lips. He leaped to -his feet. "That's the name!" he cried. "That's the name that I've been -groping after for two days. Sometimes I almost had it and then it would -escape me. I had an idea fixed in my mind somehow that it began with a -'B.' Why, I saw that fellow at the theater the other night, Morgan. It -was a most curious thing, for as soon as my eyes lighted on him the -vacuum in my mind was suddenly filled. I remember traveling across the -continent with him. I remember my brother Everett introducing me to him -one day at home before I came West this last time. That's all I do -remember about him, but it sort of connects things in my brain. I wanted -to talk to him the other night and see if he couldn't help me clear -things up, but when I got down to his seat, he was gone. I don't know -whether he had recognized me too or not. But even so, I can't account -for his wanting to avoid me. I haven't got anything against him. I might -have thought the whole thing was a hallucination (for I never quite -trust my own senses now), but I had a reliable witness. Now what I want -to know is, why should Glover be afraid to meet me?" - -"If you'll come up to the house," Morgan suggested again, "we may be -able to straighten out some of these things." - -When they arrived, a few minutes later, at the Pine Street home, Clinton -lingered outside fussing with the engine of his car, and Roger Kenwick -went alone to meet Marcreta. He found her in the fire-lighted -living-room where he had parted from her, and she came to greet him with -that slow grace that he knew so well, and that seemed now to stop the -beating of his heart. But if either of them had expected the first -moments of reunion to melt away the shadows that lay between them, they -were disappointed. For the fires of memory burn deep. And the ghastly -suffering with which the two years of separation had been freighted had -left marks that were not to be obliterated by those words of carefully -casual welcome. In spite of their efforts at commonplace dialogue, they -spoke to each other in the subdued voices of those who converse in the -presence of death. By tacit consent they avoided, during the first -half-hour, all mention of the tragedy which had separated them. - -"We've just had the house done over," Marcreta was saying as her brother -entered. "During the war it was a sanitarium, and although it has all -been retinted and there are new hangings everywhere, Clinton says it -still smells of anesthetics. I tell him it's only his imagination. Do -you get any odor of ether?" - -"No," Kenwick answered. - -He found talking horribly difficult. This woman, for whom his soul had -yearned, seemed now to be looking at him from across a deep chasm. -Between them stretched the bramble-bush; a tangle of underbrush; stark -sycamore-trees that rattled hideously in the winter wind; uprooted -madrone bushes stretching distorted claws heavenward in a mute appeal -for vengeance. And insistently now the question beat against his -brain--had he ever succeeded in crossing that ravine? Would he ever -really succeed in crossing it? With the clutch of desperation he clung -to the verdict of Dr. Gregson Bennet, as he had once clung for support -to those grim, high-backed chairs at Rest Hollow. He recalled having -once read the story of an ex-convict coming home after his release from -the penitentiary to meet that most crucial of all punishments; the eyes -of the woman that he loved. To his supersensitive soul, the stigma -attached to him was something that was worse than crime; a thing that -branded deeper and more indelibly. That it had come to him in the -discharge of duty weighed not a jot on his account-sheet. He told -himself that it had been a judgment. He had always been a worshiper of -intellect. It had seemed to him the one enduring possession. And now it -had proved itself even more ephemeral than physical health. As his eyes -rested upon her, unconscious of their own sadness, he knew all at once -that Marcreta understood and was trying to make it easy for him. - -"The only way to make this easy for me," he heard himself saying -suddenly, "is to drag it out into the light. As long as the past lies -shrouded between us, we will never be able to forget it." - - * * * * * - -It was eleven o'clock when Kenwick went down the steps of the Morgan -home. He refused Clinton's invitation to ride back in the car. For he -wanted to walk, to walk on and on forever in the glorious starlight. -There were no stars. A gray fog had rolled in from the bay and spread -itself like a huge blotter across the heavens. But he was unaware of it. -Even the street lights, shining dimly as through frosted glass, seemed -to shed across his path a supernatural radiance. For although no word of -love had passed between him and Marcreta Morgan, he had come away from -that visit with a wild happiness surging in his heart. There had been no -effort to reëstablish life upon its old basis. Marcreta, with what -seemed to him an almost superhuman tact, had divined the ghastly -futility of such an endeavor. And instead she had conveyed to him, by -some indescribable method of her own, the assurance that she would -welcome, with unquestioning faith, the opening of a new and happier era. -As he had sat there in the comfort of that living-room, where on a -night, not long ago, he had caught a glint of a departed glory, desire -and something finer had struggled for supremacy in his soul. But -courageous self-analysis had driven home to him the realization that he -had Marcreta Morgan at a cruel disadvantage. Whether he would or no, he -had come back to her clothed in the appealing garments of tragedy. He -was a pensioner on her sympathy, and in her eagerness to restore to him -his lost heritage, she had unconsciously disarmed herself. The -temptation to cherish and set a jealous guard upon such an advantage has -overpowered men and women innumerable. Kenwick sensed the treacherous -sweetness of it flooding his heart like the seductive fragrance of some -rare perfume, and then in a sudden fury he tore himself free of it. - -"By God! I haven't got as deep in as that!" he muttered, and was -unconscious that he said the words aloud. "I haven't sunk so deep that -I'd pull myself up that way!" He buttoned his overcoat about him -conscious for the first time of the chill breeze. Not yet, he reminded -himself sharply, not yet did he have the right to conquer. - -As he took the intersecting street to cut the steep down-hill slope to -the hotel, he heard the echo of footsteps behind him. He quickened his -gait, impatient of any distracting element, and was instantly aware -that the other footsteps had quickened theirs. For half a block he -walked at a round pace. Then he stopped short and waited for the other -pedestrian to overtake him. A thick-set man in a black overcoat passed -him, slowed down to a creeping walk, and under the feeble light of the -corner street-lamp came to a halt. Kenwick glanced at him sharply, but -the man was a stranger to him. He passed on unaccosted, but as he was -stepping from the curb the stranger loomed up suddenly behind him. -"Stop!" he commanded. - -Kenwick turned. A heavy hand was laid upon his arm. He stood waiting, -under the gleam of the bleary light, detained more by curiosity than by -the grip upon his arm. From the burly figure came a burly voice. "You -are Roger Kenwick." - -It was not a question, but the other man gave it sharp-voiced response. -"Yes. What is it to you?" - -"A good deal to me. I've been waiting for you. Some people wouldn't have -waited, but I'm a gentleman and I let you have your visit out with the -lady. We'll take, the rest of the walk together. Beastly night, isn't -it?" - -Kenwick did not move, and his voice was more astonished than resentful. -"I think you've made a mistake in your man. You say you have been -waiting for me?" - -The burly man began to walk slowly away and Kenwick fell into step -beside him. "Ye-a, I've been waiting for you. And even if I hadn't been, -I might have got suspicious a minute or so ago. Let me give you a tip -for your own good; don't talk to yourself in public. It's a bad habit -for anybody in your line of trade." - -Kenwick stopped short. "What do you mean?" - -"I mean, Mr. Kenwick, that you are under arrest." - -The slanting pavement seemed suddenly to be moving of its own accord and -Kenwick felt it carrying him along as though he were on an escalator. -Then he heard himself ask dully, "What for?" - -The officer looked bored. But he stood there waiting in grim patience -for his companion to regain the power of locomotion. "I asked you what -for?" Kenwick repeated sharply. "You've made a mistake, but you've got -to answer that question. If I'm going to be hauled into jail, the law -gives me the right to know why." - -"Oh, cut it out!" the other admonished. "You're surprised all right; -they always are. But I'll say this for you, Mr. Kenwick, there's nothing -amateurish about your work. Plans all laid to make a quiet getaway East, -but no dodging around cheap lodging-houses for yours. Business as usual, -and friends kept happy and unsuspecting; everything strictly on the -level. You know as well as I do why I'm on your track. You're wanted for -murder--for the murder of Ralph Regan." - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -In the twelve hours that intervened between Roger Kenwick's arrest and -his transference to the authorities at Mont-Mer, he was not allowed to -see any one. As rigid a watch was kept beside his cell as though he were -a hardened criminal who had on previous occasions escaped the clutches -of justice. Even reporters were denied admittance, but he was permitted, -in courtesy to his former position as journalist, to read the papers. In -these he found, spread large upon the front pages, highly colored -stories concerning his manoeuvers and final capture. Only the -"Clarion's" story was conservative and hinted at a colossal mistake -which would lead later to more sensational developments. - -When he left San Francisco, heavily hand-cuffed, a crowd followed to the -depot. The trip down the coast was uneventful, and he sat staring out of -the window, recalling his former ride through that same country when the -pruners had waved their shears to him in a sort of voiceless Godspeed. -There were no pruners visible from the car-window now, and the stark -stretches of orchard looked bleak and desolate. The bare, tangled -branches of the roadside poplars showed against the dull January sky -like intricate designs of lacework. They seemed to Kenwick to have lost -the comforting warmth of their leaves just when they needed them most. - -It was almost dusk when the train drew into Mont-Mer, and here another -crowd was waiting. The engine appeared to plow its way through them. -Never had the quiet little city been so stirred. Never in all its -decorous history had the white spot-light of sensationalism played upon -it. It knew that its name was featured in every newspaper of the -country. - -And Kenwick found the Mont-Mer papers even more lavish in descriptive -detail than those of the city had been. There was a picture of the -murdered man and one of himself spread upon the front page of the -evening sheet, and below, a cut of Rest Hollow, with the inevitable -black cross marking the spot under the dining-room window where the body -of Ralph Regan had been found. The morning daily matched this with a -picture of the handsome Kenwick home in New York, and an account of the -death, the previous spring, of Everett Kenwick and his wife, victims of -influenza. As he read, Kenwick reflected that Richard Glover must have -been very busy, very busy indeed since the night that they had -encountered each other at the theater. - -And outside the county jail the city buzzed with comment and -speculation. Mont-Mer real estate men were elated over this unexpected -scandal in high society which had resulted in putting their town "on the -map." Better a gruesome publicity, they told each other, than no -publicity at all. Tourists from Los Angeles and the near-by towns -motored up during the week-end and made futile attempts to gain access -to Rest Hollow. The old conservative residents of the aristocratic -little city were horrified, and the colony of Eastern capitalists, who -made up a large part of the suburban population, were hotly resentful of -the hideous notoriety which had invaded their retreat by the sea. The -two country estates that bordered Rest Hollow were put on the market at -what the local realty dealers advertised as "spectacular bargains." - -After the body of Ralph Regan had been exhumed and identified by the -grief-stricken little woman who was his sister, the links of the chain -which incriminated Kenwick seemed to fall of their own volition into -place. He reviewed them himself, sitting alone in Mont-Mer's bleak -little jail. - -There would be first the testimony of the coroner who would describe the -gunshot wound. And then the evidence that he, Kenwick, had been armed on -that fatal night. The woman, or whoever it was that occupied the right -wing of the house, would narrate in detail all that he had said about -being a good shot and would doubtless follow this with the testimony -that he was obviously looking for trouble. The revolver, which he had -left on the table in the den, would add its mute confirmation of these -assertions. And his own mode of departure from that house, under such -circumstances, was sufficient in itself to send him to the electric -chair without any further testimony. Glover would be, of course, the -star witness for the State, and against his glib and convincing story -would be pitted the word of a man known to have been of an unsound state -of mind and never proved to have recovered from it. It was this last -evidence, he knew, that would acquit him. With the brand of Cain upon -his forehead he would be set free. The ghastly notoriety which he had -striven, with the difficult patience of the impatient temperament, to -avoid, had struck him with the force of a bomb and blown him skyward to -be the cynosure of every eye. Never while the world stood could he ask -Marcreta Morgan to take the name of Kenwick. Acquittal on any terms was -all that most men would have asked of fate. But Kenwick was made of -finer stuff. And so far as his future was concerned, he was already -tried, convicted, and sentenced. - -A week intervened between his arrival at Mont-Mer and the day set for -the trial. During that time he knew himself to be under the most -relentless surveillance. By day and by night his every act was watched. -With his food they brought him neither knife nor fork. On the second day -of this startling omission he smiled grimly at the attendant. "You can -tell the jailer," he said, "that he needn't be worried about me to that -extent. You see, I've worn my country's uniform, and that spoils a man -for taking the Dutch route." - -The stolid-faced attendant looked at him without replying. Kenwick felt -a sudden pity for him. "I suppose he thinks I'm likely to get violent -and begin smashing up things at any moment," he reflected. For in the -jailer's eyes was that thing for which he had been on the watch for -almost two months. He pushed away his food almost untasted. When he was -left alone again he walked over to the heavily barred window and stood -looking down at the court-house garden. Very gently he shook one of the -iron rods. "For almost a year," he muttered. "Barred in for almost a -year; and the world has no intention of ever letting me forget it." - -The date-palms in the grounds below swept the wintry air with long -graceful plumes. How helpless they were in the driving force of the -wind! And yet they were moored to something, securely rooted. The storm -might buffet but would not utterly destroy them. Down the curving path -which they bordered he saw a man approaching with a flat leather case -under his arm. It was Dayton, the young attorney whom the court had -appointed for his defense. Kenwick, who had taken his intellectual -measure at their first meeting the day before, had little faith in his -legal ability. But he liked him; liked his buoyant, unspoiled -personality. And Dayton was undisguisedly elated over this sudden -opportunity to try his mettle in so conspicuous a case. It was the -chance he had been hoping for during three years of commonplace -practice. - -As the prisoner heard his step in the upper corridor he turned from the -window. Dayton closed the portal behind him and sat down on the edge of -the narrow cot. Downstairs he had just held brief parley with the -jailer. "Hasn't Kenwick got any family?" he had inquired. - -The official shook his head. "As I understand it, he didn't have anybody -but a brother, and he died last spring, the papers said." - -"No friends either?" - -"Friends? Well, he wouldn't be likely to have any, would he--a feller -that's been crazy?" - -"It's cursed luck!" Dayton had told him. He was still young enough to -feel resentful of life's contemptuous injustices. "And he's only -twenty-five; got his whole life before him. He's got to have his chance. -He's got to have a fighting chance." - -As he looked at his client now, he was careful to keep anything like -compassion out of his eyes. He removed a cracked pitcher full of purple -asters from its perilous position at the head of the bed and swept his -glance over the crude table littered with envelopes in cream and pastel -shades. "Correspondence still growing?" he inquired genially. - -Kenwick stacked the vari-colored missives into a pile. Most of them had -been accompanied by flowers, and all were signed by society women of -Mont-Mer. A few bore the more guarded signature of "A Friend," or "A -Sympathizer," with initials underneath. They condoled, they admonished, -they even made cautious love. - -"Can you fathom it, Dayton?" the prisoner asked, weighing the -correspondence in one hand as though the answer to the riddle lay in -avoir-dupois. "These women think I'm guilty of murder. They all seem to -think I'm guilty as hell; and yet they send me flowers, and -love-letters." He turned his back contemptuously upon the purple asters. -"It comes over me every once in a while, Dayton, that I'm not the only -person in this world who has had moments of mental aberration." - -The other man reached over, took up the stack of envelopes, and examined -them with curious interest. Here and there he recognized a coat of arms -or a monogram. "Going to answer any of them?" he queried. - -"Answer them!" - -"Well, most of them seem to expect a reply. You see, you really can't -blame them very much, either. These women are fed up on life. They come -out here every winter seeking a new sensation." - -"And I am a new sensation, am I?" - -"You bet you are! Why, man, you're nothing short of a godsend. And most -of these people," he swept a hand over the coterie represented on the -table, "are from New York themselves. They're not writing to a stranger -exactly. They know who your family is--or was. They know all about you." - -Kenwick's lips stiffened. "Well, they certainly have that advantage over -me." - -"I don't mean to imply, of course, that they've been investigating your -personal history," Dayton hastened to explain. "But Kenwick is not an -inconspicuous name in the East. And then you've been in the service -and----" - -"I'm glad you mentioned that," the prisoner cut in. "It reminds me of -something I want to say to you. When you get up to talk in court, don't -you make any plea for me on the grounds that I've been in the service. -That's one thing I won't stand for. The man who was in the army is a -different man from the alleged murderer of Ralph Regan. I'm not going to -have _his_ record smeared with this horrible thing." - -Dayton dropped the letters to the table as though they had bitten him. -"Why, Mr. Kenwick! You've got a right to the consideration that would -naturally----" - -"If I've got a right to it, I've got a right to waive it. This country -is flooded with men who expect to beat their way all through life on the -plea that they've been in the service. And there's nothing so despicable -on God's earth as that. I use my uniform to fight in, not to hide in. -Get me?" - -Dayton was obviously crestfallen. He got up from the hard cot and stood -looking at his client gravely. Kenwick gathered up the pile of -envelopes. "Take this junk out of here when you go, please. And don't -let them send in any more flowers. They can save those for the funeral. -But I'm not dead yet." - -"You may be very soon, though, if you don't listen to sense," his -adviser remarked bluntly. "I haven't wanted to get you worked up over -the case, because that's poor policy and it doesn't buy us anything. But -it strikes me, Mr. Kenwick, that you don't realize what a very serious -position you are in." - -The ghost of a smile appeared upon the prisoner's face. It was a -terrible little smile, and he was not even conscious of its existence. -He was only conscious that every nerve in his body ached with weariness -and that he felt faint from want of food. Two pictures were stamping -themselves alternately upon his brain; the dim, sinister interior of -Rest Hollow, and the fire-lighted room on Pine Street. One of these -incessantly erased and superseded the other. And he knew that there -could be no division of their supremacy. Only one of them might survive. -Day and night the memory of them racked his jaded brain. For the -humiliation of his present position, not the ultimate outcome of the -trial, burned him with a consuming flame. - -As he stood now at the barred window, he was doing that thing to which, -ever since his arrest, all his energies had been directed. Hour by hour, -minute by minute, he was welding together the joints of an armor. With a -slow but ceaseless persistence he was girding himself with a -graven-faced indifference that must be his shield against the barrage of -the gaping, curious world. And this man, standing so close beside him, -and in reality so far away that their spirits were scarcely discernible -to each other in the distance was telling him that he seemed unaware of -the peril of his position. That wave of deafening depression which -engulfs the human soul in the moments when it realizes its utter -loneliness surged over him like a tidal wave. He stood looking at Dayton -and wondering what manner of man he was. - -"I don't want to play up anything now that will sound like dramatics," -the lawyer went on in a soothing voice. "But we've got to face this -thing as it is. You know Glover, don't you?" - -"No. But Glover knows me. He has that immense advantage. And he is using -it to the full. He has been fighting a man who's got both hands tied -behind him." - -Dayton appeared to take new courage from this summary. "Well, I see -you've got a line on his methods anyway, and that's something. That -gives us our starting-point. And besides having both hands free, he's -also got his eyes open. You've been blindfolded a part of the time. He -never has." - -There was a sound of a key grating in the lock. The dialogue ended -abruptly and Kenwick turned from the window. On the threshold was a -shabby, faded-looking little woman guarded by the relentless sentry. -Kenwick advanced to meet her, apologizing for the discomfort of the -backless chair which he offered. - -"No, I don't want to sit down, thanks," she told him hurriedly. "I'm not -goin' to stay but a minute." She twisted her ungloved hands nervously -together under a scrawny wool scarf. "It's just this, Mr. Kenwick; I -asked them to let me come just to tell you this----" - -The prisoner stood waiting. The realization came to him that she was -afraid of him, and he tried to help her to begin. "You are Mrs. Fanwell, -aren't you?" - -"Yes. But--you don't know me, do you?" - -"No, I just guessed at who you were." His eyes rested compassionately -upon her thin, eager face, her poverty-stricken mourning. She was -obviously relieved at his quiet composure. "I just wanted to tell you -this; that it's not revenge that I'm after. I've had a hard life, any -way you look at it. But I'm in Science now and I'm tryin' to tear hate -out of my heart. I haven't got any hard feelin's against you, for I -don't believe, I never will believe that you really meant to do it." - -"Won't you sit down?" Kenwick suggested, and forced her gently into the -chair. Then he stood beside her, one hand resting upon the -paper-littered table. "You believe, do you, that I--am responsible for -your brother's death?" - -She was looking past him, through the narrow window where Dayton stood -watching her curiously. "I don't know just what to think. But I wanted -you to know that I'm not wishin' you--any violent end. I never dreamed -there was anything so horrible connected with his death when I came out -here. But I felt that I had to know about him; I had to find out." - -"Of course you had to find out," Kenwick agreed earnestly. "This thing -must be cleared up in your mind--in everybody's mind. May I ask you a -personal question, Mrs. Fanwell, to help me clear up a part of it -myself? Were you dependent upon your brother to any degree for your -support?" - -"Dependent on _Ralph_?" The astonishment in her tone was sufficient -reply in itself. "Oh, no. I was tryin' to help Ralph out, as much as I -could without lettin' my husband know. It was hard, havin' always to -stand between them. But I couldn't blame my husband either. He was -always hard-workin' himself and he hadn't any patience with poor Ralph. -He thought he ought to get a steady job at carpentry; that was his -trade, and he made good at it till he got sick and began takin' that -terrible stuff. It was the ruin of him." - -"You mean that he took--drugs?" - -She nodded. And Kenwick hastened to cover the pitiful little secret -which he had laid bare. - -"It was only for this reason that I asked, Mrs. Fanwell. If I am proved -guilty of this crime, you shall receive whatever money recompense it is -in my power to give. This is not an attempt to pay for it, but only to -ease my own conscience." - -The woman's eyes filled with tears. She leaned beseechingly across the -table, clutching, with strange incongruity, one of the perfumed -envelopes. "Then you _are_ guilty!" she cried. "Oh, Mr. Kenwick, why -don't you confess? All the lawyers have told me that if you confess, -they can't give you the death sentence. And you hadn't ought to be -in--in a place like this. Now that I've seen you I know that what the -others say isn't so. You did it when you was crazy. You never would have -done it if you had been in your right mind." - -She rose and moved slowly toward the door, her gaze still fixed upon him -with a mixture of pleading and horror. He followed, and opened the door -himself. "I'm glad you came, Mrs. Fanwell. It was very kind indeed of -you to come." - -She stopped with her hand upon the knob. "I don't care what he says," -she told him tremulously. "I don't care what anybody says; they can't -none of them make me believe that you would have done it if you'd known -what you was about." - -When she had gone Kenwick drew a long sigh. The thing had come near to -shattering his laboriously constructed mask. He spoke sharply to the man -at the window. "What in the world did she mean by that, Dayton? They're -certainly not trying to make her believe that I killed her brother when -I was in my right mind?" - -Dayton took a few slow steps toward him. "I was trying to lead up to -that when she came in. But it's just as well to have had you get it from -her. Now maybe you'll take more stock in it. That is exactly what -they're trying to make her think; what they'll try to make the court -think. Glover is going to try to prove (and he'll come within an ace of -doing it, too) that when you were in your right mind you deliberately -plotted to kill that man. He has the witnesses and the motive, and the -thing that he's going to attempt to saddle upon you, Mr. Kenwick -is--murder in the first degree." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -On the day set for the trial of the Regan murder case the court-room at -Mont-Mer was crowded. Long before ten o'clock men and women were -flocking into the building, eager for the most desirable seats. -Residents from some of the country districts brought their lunches and -prepared to spend the day. - -The court-house was an antique structure heated only by wood stoves, but -the fur-coated and the threadbare rubbed elbows and were oblivious of -drafts. For it is in the audience chamber of a criminal court that those -who seek will find the true democracy. One touch of sensation makes the -whole world kin. - -A few hours before the trial Clinton Morgan arrived in town and was -permitted to see the prisoner. The vigilance of the Mont-Mer officials -did not preclude visitors, rather welcomed them as a possible means of -gaining valuable information from the suspected murderer when he was off -his guard. Dayton, who was in conference with his client when Clinton -entered, was immensely relieved by the appearance of this new actor in -the drama. "This thing seems to me to be a little too one-sided, -professor," he remarked when introductions were over. "The court-room -over there is jammed with people who expect to see us done to death. -It's good to have an ally loom up in the offing." - -He left them alone for a few moments while they waited for the sheriff, -and Clinton measured his friend with an anxious eye. "I don't know what -you could have thought of me for not coming sooner," he said, "but I -couldn't possibly get away. You look all in, man. Haven't they been -giving you anything to eat?" - -"As much as I wanted." As he returned the grip of his hand, Kenwick was -wondering if Clinton Morgan suspected that this encounter, in a prison -cell, between himself and the brother of Marcreta filled his cup of -humiliation to the brim. Her name was not mentioned by either of them. -Clinton's whole attention was centered upon the developments in the -case. - -"You're not going to take the stand yourself, are you, Kenwick?" he -questioned, standing with one foot upon the backless chair. - -"I was, but Dayton has advised against it." - -"Absolutely. You'd be at an immense disadvantage." - -"I suppose so. I can furnish proof from Dr. Gregson Bennet, in the city, -that I'm perfectly normal now. But after all, that doesn't really count -for much with anybody but myself. It was such an immense comfort to me -when he made the examination. I came away from his office feeling that -it was going to clear up everything. But no matter what science says, -I'll always be at a disadvantage." - -Clinton laid a hand upon his shoulder. Ever since his first sight of him -he had been trying to conceal the fact that Kenwick's altered appearance -was a shock to him. And like the attempts of most straightforward men, -the effort had been a failure. "Why, buck up, man," he admonished now. -"They can't convict you, you know; not under--the circumstances. You -haven't been thinking that?" - -"I've been thinking a good many things since I came back to Mont-Mer," -Kenwick answered slowly. "You see, Morgan, I know more now than I did -when I was trying to ferret this thing out up in the city. For one -thing, I know a little more about my adversary. As I've figured out this -story now, it goes something like this. - -"After that adventure out at Rest Hollow, Glover found himself in a -hole. But there were three ways out of it for him. If he wanted to -retain the grip that I think he has upon my estate, he had to choose -between these. The first one was to make it appear that I was dead. This -seems, at first thought, to be a hazardous venture, but it was not so -difficult in my case as it would have been under normal circumstances. -And when he first decided to take it I think he supposed that I was -dead. He had every reason to think so. The man to whom he had entrusted -me had mysteriously disappeared, and he had some strange woman come down -and identify as himself a stranger who had been killed in an automobile -tragedy; a very easy thing, in reality, you see. When Glover discovered, -upon inquiry around town, that there had been such an accident, he -concluded that I had been killed and that the man who was responsible -for it was afraid to let him know and had made his escape after having -himself declared dead. I haven't a doubt that Glover thought I was the -man who was shipped up to San Francisco in a casket. And believing this, -the whole thing seemed to play right into his hands. He knew, of course, -that he couldn't keep his hold on my fortune forever, but he wanted to -play the game until he got as much as he could out of it. - -"But suddenly he discovered, by some means, that his whole hypothesis -was wrong. He discovered that I was alive, and what was infinitely more -appalling, that I was apparently restored to competency. He had been -willing to risk my possible reappearance, you see, for if I were ever -discovered wandering about deranged somewhere, I would have no means of -identifying myself and, after a medical examination, would simply be -committed to some institution. He would not have to connect himself with -that at all. But since I had come to life mentally as well as -physically, he had to take the second course--prove me irresponsible and -have me sent to an asylum. How he went about this I don't know, but I'm -sure that he must have attempted it. And I don't know either why he -failed, for as I look back now upon some of my moves I can see that they -might have appeared--erratic." - -"I think," Clinton told him dryly, "that any of us could furnish -convincing proof that we have been, at certain periods of our lives, -dangerous to the public safety." - -But Kenwick went on, unheeding this attempted solace. - -"At any rate, Glover apparently failed in this attempt. So in order to -get himself out of this mess, there is only one thing now for him to -do." He broke off, eying his visitor with somber eyes. "You know what -that is, Morgan. In order to save himself, he must prove me to be a -cold-blooded murderer. Can he do it? Why shouldn't he? I'm certainly not -in a position to offer any convincing opposition. A contemptuous pity is -what I have read in the eyes of every person whom I've seen since this -thing came to light. I don't suppose there is a person in this town who -thinks I am innocent. I don't know whether Dayton himself does." - -"But what motive could you have had for murder, Kenwick? You say that -you never saw this Regan in your life." - -"_I_ say so, but what does my testimony amount to? And especially what -does it amount to when I am trying to save my own skin? I told you once, -Morgan, and I tell you again that it's impossible for a man to live down -my sort of a past. He may get his eyes back out of the bramble-bush, but -he'll never be able to make the world believe that he can really see -with them. I feel sorry for Dayton. He's working day and night on this -case, and he's a nice fellow. But he hasn't got any chance to make good -on it. I feel sorry for him." - -"I have been thinking," Clinton mused, "that there might be something -out at Rest Hollow that would furnish a clue to help solve the question -to the satisfaction of the jury, as to just when you arrived at that -house, how long you stayed, and so on." - -"The place is full of clues, of course," Kenwick admitted. "But by this -time they have all been carefully arranged. Dayton went out there, and -he told me that the public are not being admitted to the grounds at all. -The place is under guard night and day. There may be danger there for -Glover; I don't know anything about that, of course, but he knows. And -whatever else you may say about him, you can't say that he has been -asleep on this job." - -The door opened to admit the sheriff. He shook hands with Clinton Morgan -and nodded to Kenwick. In absolute silence the trio walked through the -semitropical grounds to the court-house. As they entered the packed -audience chamber the buzz of conversation stopped, and in deathly -silence Roger Kenwick took his place. - -The barrage of eyes leveled upon him was only partly visible through the -haze that for the first few moments blurred his vision. He told himself -that it was like that last charge, through blinding smoke, that he had -made across No-Man's-Land. Then the scene cleared and individual faces -emerged from the mist. There were the weather-beaten faces of ranch -workers, the smug, complacent faces of those whom life has petted, the -resolute faces of those who have come to see grim justice administered. -Among them, here and there, was a scattering of veiled faces; women -eager to see, but ashamed of being seen. Kenwick wondered contemptuously -if some of the writers of the perfumed notes were among these. - -During his dispassionate survey of the spectators he was acutely -conscious of the presence of a man sitting at the far end of the table -around which the lawyers were assembled. He had felt this personality -when he first entered, but had reserved his attention until the blur of -his surroundings should clear. Now he turned slowly in his chair and -looked straight into the "tiger eyes" of Richard Glover. There was -neither anger nor appeal in his own face; only a curious, questioning -expression. An anthropologist who has stumbled upon some strange human -relic unknown to his research might wear such an expression. Any -physiognomist could have read in Kenwick's gaze the question, "What is -this all about?" - -And here again his adversary had him at a disadvantage. For his was not -the mobile temperament which gives visible response to its emotional -experiences. Life played upon Kenwick as upon a highly strung -instrument, and drew from him whatever notes she needed in the universal -symphony. But Richard Glover permitted no hand but his own to manipulate -the keys of his life-board. - -It was ten o'clock now but the trial seemed long in beginning. The judge -had barely noticed Kenwick's entrance and continued an inaudible -conversation with some one at his high desk. The district attorney, a -florid little man who seemed to find difficulty in keeping on his -eye-glasses, fussed with a mass of papers at the end of the long table -and spoke occasionally to the bald-headed man on his right, who was -evidently his colleague. Dayton leaned back in his chair and tapped the -table impatiently with his pencil. Kenwick was surprised to see that the -nervousness which his attorney had shown when he had visited him in jail -seemed now to have completely disappeared. - -There was an eminent surgeon among Kenwick's New York acquaintances who -suffered from a nervous malady that was akin to palsy, and yet who, in -the vital crisis of an operation, had a hand as steady as an embedded -rock. He found himself wondering curiously now whether Dayton would -develop under pressure an abnormal sagacity. Some miracle would have to -intervene if he was to be saved from the ravenous clutches of fate. - -Other persons were entering the court-room now and taking places that -had evidently been reserved for them. Dayton leaned over and presented -them at long distance to his client. "That fellow that just came in is -Gifford, the undertaker. He got the jolt of his life when this thing -blew up. Don't think he'll be much of a witness. He gets rattled. That -chap with him is Dr. Markham. Ever see him before?" - -Kenwick nodded. "He bandaged my leg that night in the drug-store. He'll -remember it, too, for he was a little suspicious at the time that the -sprain was older than I admitted. And I think he knew the man whose name -I chanced to give as mine." - -"Yes, that was a bad break, your chancing upon the name of Rogers. A -fellow by that name was visiting out at the Paddington place, and -although the doctor had never seen him, he had an engagement to play -golf with him that afternoon out at the country club. Fortunately the -man himself left town the next day so it wasn't as bad as it might have -been. But it was an unfortunate thing, such a beast of a thing, that you -should have given an assumed name at all." - -"I suppose so. But that one seemed safe enough; it was my own name -backwards. And I'd been through enough during the last twenty-four hours -to make me cautious and secretive. And as it turned out, the taking of -another name _was_ the thing to do, Dayton. If I had hurled 'Roger -Kenwick' into that group, I imagine that some one would have made -connections and turned me over to the lunacy commission. My guardian -angel was on the job when I decided to keep my identity a secret that -night." - -Dayton surveyed him with obvious satisfaction. It was a good sign that -Kenwick had thrown off some of his former apathy. And yet there still -remained a cold indifference about him, a sort of contemptuous disregard -of the crowded room, that for a man of Kenwick's caliber and social -position seemed to him inexplicable. He had an uncomfortable conviction -that this inscrutable self-possession would not take well with the -jury; that it somehow gave credence to the theory of the prosecution -that the prisoner was a hardened criminal. The local reporters were -already busy with their pencils. And Dayton could visualize a paragraph -in the evening sheet beginning, "Roger Kenwick himself showed a complete -indifference to the proceedings which----" - -The conference with the judge had ended and he was rapping for order. -The charge against the prisoner was read and the tedious task of -impaneling the jury began. Dayton paid little attention to the formal -process of getting the legal machinery into action, except to object in -a decisive voice to three or four of the prospective jurymen. Aside from -these interruptions, he continued to identify the various witnesses to -his client, in an impersonal, entertaining manner, like the official -guide on a personally conducted excursion. - -A short, ruddy man in long overcoat entered and cast impatient eyes -about the room for a seat. One was immediately brought in for him from -an adjoining room. "Annisen, ex-coroner," Dayton explained. "He's got a -fine position now as health officer somewhere in Missouri. He hated like -hell to come back and get mixed up in this fracas. You see, he never was -a howling success out here; made the mistake of knocking the climate -when he first came out, and no southern California town can stand for -that. And then, he had too many irons in the fire all the time, and -neglected his official position sometimes. I have a haunting suspicion -myself that he didn't spend any too much of his valuable time over the -examination of your supposed remains. We don't need to fear him; he'll -be a reluctant witness." - -He swung about in his chair to announce himself satisfied with the -twelve men who had been selected to try the case, and then engaged for a -moment in conversation with the district attorney. - -Kenwick turned his gaze to the window where he could see the date-palms -from a new angle, their curving leaves motionless now in the still -wintry air. The swinging doors of the court-room fanned incessantly back -and forth, but he no longer felt any interest in the hostile faces of -the witnesses. His mind was wandering back along the sun-lighted path of -his boyhood to the days when he had mother, father, and brother, and had -never suspected that he would ever lose any of them. It was a good -thing, though, he told himself bitterly, a good thing that they were -gone; that the last of the Kenwicks should go down in disgrace without -spreading the cankerous taint to anyone else of that proud name. The -imminent exposé appeared to him all at once in the guise of a mighty -tree, which was holding its place in the earth only by a single -supporting root. Now that root was to be chopped away. The house of -Kenwick was to fall. But in its fall it would harm no one else. For the -tree had long stood alone, solitary and leafless amid the white wastes -of life. - -He became aware at last that the buzzing noise of the court-room had -increased. There seemed to be some new excitement in the air. He brought -his eyes back from the courtyard and glanced inquiringly at Dayton. But -he had leaned forward in response to a curt signal from the district -attorney. Every one except the jurymen was talking in low tones with -some one else. In their double row of seats the twelve newly-sworn -judges sat solemnly silent, freighted with a sense of their -responsibility. - -Whence the news came Kenwick never knew, for during the moments just -preceding he had been deep in reverie and had lost connection with his -surroundings. But whatever it was, it seemed all at once to be upon -every one's tongue. Those who did not know were eagerly seeking -information from their neighbors. Kenwick's eyes swept the room, -puzzled. Dayton would doubtless tell him when he finished his -conference. But before he had time to gain the knowledge from this -source, it was hurled at the court-room from behind the lawyer's table. -The district attorney evidently deemed this the only way to quiet the -increasing tumult. He got to his feet, and flapping the fugitive -eye-glasses between his fingers, faced the judge and made one brief -statement, unembellished by explanation or judicial comment. - -"Your Honor, news has just been received from a reliable source that the -house at Rest Hollow has burned to the ground!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -The case of the people of the State of California against Roger Kenwick -opened with the testimony of Richard Glover, chief witness for the -prosecution. Glover took the stand quietly and told his story in lucid, -clear-cut sentences, pausing occasionally to recall some obscure detail -or make certain of a date. The court reporter found it easy to take down -his unhurried statements. From time to time the "freckled" eyes of the -narrator rested upon the man in the prisoner's box with an impersonal, -dispassionate glance. And always he met those of Kenwick fixed upon his -face with a sort of awed fascination. Just so might the victim of a -snake-charmer watch him while he disclosed the secret of his power. - -Richard Glover told how on the afternoon of February 10, 1918, he had -been summoned to the home of Everett Kenwick in New York and entrusted -with a commission. He was not known to the elder Kenwick, personally, he -said, but had been a boyhood friend of Isabel Kenwick, his wife. -Prompted by her recommendation, Mr. Kenwick had chosen him for the -delicate family confidence which they imparted. - -It appeared that the younger brother and only living relative of Everett -had enlisted in the service, and after several months of severe fighting -at the front had been wounded. He had been sent to a convalescent home -in England where his physical health had been almost completely -restored. But the surgeons had discovered that the blow on his head had -caused a pressure upon the brain, which they deemed incurable by means -of surgery, and which they said would ultimately result in some form of -mental aberration. So they had sent him back to New York, diagnosed as a -permanent invalid, and had recommended that a close watch be kept upon -him until such time as it might be necessary to commit him to an -institution. - -During the first few weeks after his return it became apparent to the -brother and sister-in-law that this diagnosis of the unfortunate young -man's condition was correct. He was given isolated quarters upon the -third floor of the house and unostentatiously watched. Letters which he -wrote were intercepted and his friends notified that he had become -irresponsible. Valuables and possessions which had been intimately -associated with his past life were removed from his reach, since they -appeared to confuse him and hasten his mental collapse. At the time when -he, Glover, was summoned to the Kenwick home, prominent brain -specialists had been consulted and had agreed that an operation would be -extremely dangerous to the patient and might not succeed in restoring -him to normality. And Mr. Kenwick, after what must have been weeks of -painful pondering, had decided not to risk it but to follow the advice -of the physicians and provide for his brother unremitting guardianship. -Mrs. Kenwick had strongly favored a private sanitarium, but to this her -husband would not consent. He was stricken with grief and was determined -that Roger Kenwick's share of the family estate should be spent upon his -comfort. And he refused to relinquish all hope of his brother's ultimate -recovery. In spite of the consensus of professional opinion to the -contrary, he still clung to the hope that the patient, aided by rest and -youth, would recuperate. And he was a shrewd enough business man to -realize that private sanitariums for the mentally disabled thrive in -proportion to the number of incurables which they maintain. Complete -recovery for his brother was the last thing that he might expect if he -surrendered him to the mercies of such an asylum. - -And so he had commissioned the witness to rent for him the California -home of Charles Raeburn, an old family friend, who had built it for his -bride about twelve years before, but had closed it and returned East -following her tragic suicide there a few months after their marriage. -Raeburn had offered it to the Kenwicks with the stipulation that the -apartments which had been his wife's boudoir and sitting-room should not -be used. And Everett Kenwick accepted the suggestion, feeling that if he -were in his brother's position he would wish to be as far away as -possible from the surroundings in which he had grown up, and -particularly from the curious eyes of former acquaintances. Glover had -undertaken the errand and departed immediately for Mont-Mer to open the -house and employ a suitable caretaker. - -"Just a moment, Mr. Glover." It was Dayton who interrupted him. "On the -occasion of your call at the Kenwick home, did you see--the patient?" - -"I did not. They had particularly chosen a time for the interview when -he was undergoing treatment at a physician's office." - -"Why did they object to your seeing him?" - -"I don't think they did object, but they felt that it would be unwise -just at that time. The young man was obsessed with the idea that the -house was full of strange people; that there was a constant stream of -guests coming and going. There was no reason why I should see him, so -they planned to avoid a meeting." - -"As a matter of fact did you ever see him while he was under your -surveillance?" - -"No." - -"On what occasion did you first see him?" - -"On a street in San Francisco about two months ago." - -"On that occasion did he see you?" - -"I think not." - -"Proceed." - -The witness went on to relate how he had departed that same evening from -New York, had opened up the house at Mont-Mer, and secured the services -of a man whom he chanced to meet on the train and who was able to -produce evidence that he had once been head physician at a Los Angeles -sanitarium. - -Here Dayton cut in again. "What was the name of this man?" - -"Edward Marstan." - -"Proceed." - -Arrangements having been made with him, the witness communicated with -Everett Kenwick, according to agreement, and the patient was sent West -in care of an attendant, one Thomas Bailey, now deceased. Glover himself -had been in Los Angeles at the time of their arrival, but had received -word from Marstan that the patient was properly installed at the Raeburn -residence, and the attendant returned to New York. - -Dayton's voice interposed once more. "Is the Charles Raeburn home known -by any other name, Mr. Glover?" - -"Yes--by the name of Rest Hollow." - -"Proceed." - -"My own concern in the affair was simply that of business manager," the -witness continued, "so I remained in Los Angeles for I could manage the -financial end of it just as well from that short distance." - -The district attorney suddenly broke the thread of the story here. "Then -you deliberately avoided an encounter with the patient?" - -"I did." - -"Why?" - -"The maladies which are classed as mental are particularly repugnant to -me. I was under no obligation to see him, and I had a business of my -own to which this was merely a side issue." - -"But it is true, is it not," Dayton cut in, "that you received a -generous salary from Mr. Everett Kenwick for this--long distance -supervision?" - -"I received from him an allowance to be spent upon the upkeep of the -grounds, the comfort of the patient, the wages of an attendant, and so -on. I sent him a monthly statement of the bills when I had received and -checked them." - -"You say you had another business; what was it?" - -"Publicity writer for the Golden State Land Co. of Los Angeles." - -"They own large mineral spring holdings in our neighboring county on the -south, do they not?" - -"Yes." - -"And how long had you been interested with them at the time of this -interview at the Kenwick home?" - -"About six months, I think." - -"Did Mr. Kenwick know of this other business interest?" - -"Certainly. That is one thing that led to his choosing me as his agent. -He knew that I was permanently located in southern California and that -I had established myself with a reputable company. It was a guarantee of -permanence--and character." - -"One moment longer, Mr. Glover, before you go on. Was the elder Mr. -Kenwick aware of the fact that while you were in his employ you never -visited Rest Hollow but once?" - -"I did visit Rest Hollow. I went there every month to see that the place -was properly kept up and the attendant on duty. But I always went at -night. I held my interviews with Dr. Marstan alone." - -"Go on." - -The narrative skipped now to the following November when the witness -told of having received a communication from Dr. Marstan informing him -that, owing to a mechanical accident, Roger Kenwick had recovered his -sanity; that he, the physician, had carefully tested him and was fully -convinced of this. It had been impossible just at that time for Glover -himself to go to Mont-Mer as he was ill. And before he had had time to -send more than a brief note in reply, the attendant wrote again saying -that his former patient was bitterly opposed to having his brother know -of his recovery, and had threatened him, the doctor, if he betrayed the -news. Kenwick, he said, wished to use his present position to get more -money out of his brother for some investment that he was then planning, -for he knew that in case his recovery were known, it would be a long -time before the court would grant him the control of his property, and -his father's will had provided that he was not to inherit his half of -the estate until he should have reached the age of twenty-five. - -The witness had not thought it expedient to notify Dr. Marstan of the -elder Kenwick's death, so that he could not report this to the patient. -They had evidently had hot words upon the subject of the disclosure of -the patient's condition, Marstan being highly scrupulous and not being -willing to retain his position as keeper when it was merely nominal, an -arrangement upon which the young man himself insisted. - -In order to prevent the patient from carrying out some sinister threat, -Marstan had locked his charge into the house and gone into town probably -to consult a lawyer upon the proper course for him to pursue. This much -he could surmise from a half-written letter which the witness himself -had found on the evening that he returned to Mont-Mer. - -"And that was the state of things when you arrived at Rest Hollow on -the evening of November 21?" Dayton asked. - -"That was the state of things." - -"Describe the condition of the house and grounds on the evening of the -tragedy." - -The witness did so, with the same unhurried attention to detail. - -"And when you came upon the body of the dead man under the dining-room -window, why did you conclude that it was your former charge, Roger -Kenwick?" - -"Every circumstance seemed to point to it. And I found upon the body -possessions that seemed unmistakable evidence." - -"Describe those possessions." - -"A wrist-watch with the initials R.K. upon the inside; a silver -match-case with the one initial K.; a linen handkerchief with that -initial." - -"But you said, did you not, in the early part of your testimony, that -the patient's personal possessions had been taken from him when he -became incompetent?" - -"They had. But all of his things were in Doctor Marstan's possession. -They were in his apartments, and any normal person could easily have -found them, and naturally Kenwick would have demanded them." - -"Had you ever seen a picture of Roger Kenwick to aid you in your -identification of his body?" - -"No. But I knew his age, and it seemed to correspond exactly with that -of the dead man. Furthermore he looked like a person who was wasted by -ill health. I hadn't a doubt that it was he." - -"How did you think that he had met his death?" - -"By suicide. I believed then that the doctor had been mistaken and that -he had not made a complete recovery." - -"When did you begin to suspect, Mr. Glover, that instead of being dead, -the prisoner was a deliberate murderer?" - -"Not until I discovered that he had made his escape from Rest Hollow. I -saw his name on a hotel register in San Francisco and I became alarmed -and put a detective on his track, for I felt responsible for him and was -not convinced that he should be at large. But the detective reported to -me that Kenwick showed absolutely no signs of abnormality. Then I came -down here and followed the back trail. And I discovered that Marstan had -been killed in an automobile accident on the day when he had come into -town for legal aid. By inquiring of the gardener at Rest Hollow I -learned that he had seen a young man out under the dining-room window -talking to Kenwick early in the afternoon. The prisoner was entreating -this stranger to let him out and----" - -"Let that witness give his own testimony. That will do, Mr. Glover." -Then, as he was about to leave the stand, "No, just a minute. You say it -was about midnight when you discovered the body. Did you notify the -coroner?" - -"That was my first impulse; but I found that the telephone was out of -order, so I decided to wait until it was light before going in for him. -But in the morning, just as I finished dressing, he came. He told me -that he had been notified by some one else." - -"By whom?" - -"I don't know. He said that he was out of town when the message came in, -and found it awaiting him when he returned. I got the impression that he -didn't know himself who had reported the tragedy." - -This last testimony corresponded in every detail with that given by -Annisen, who described minutely his findings upon the body, the -discovery, a short distance away, of the loaded revolver with a shot -fired out of it, and the haggard condition of the face, indicating long -invalidism. The body, he said, had lain in the morgue until the -following afternoon and been viewed by scores of the morbidly curious. -Not one person had recognized it, nor apparently entertained the -slightest suspicion that it was not the unfortunate inmate of Rest -Hollow. And so he had felt justified in accepting Richard Glover's -declaration of the dead man's identity. He knew that the patient's -keeper had been killed in an automobile accident the day before, and -every circumstance seemed to point to a suicidal frenzy. - -His story was followed by that of a gawky, frightened-looking boy who -kept his eyes riveted upon the prosecution's chief witness while he -talked. He disclaimed all knowledge of the arrangements concerning the -patient's guardianship, his business being merely to care for the garden -and furnace. He had never come into close contact with the patient -himself; had only seen him at a distance sometimes, wandering about the -grounds alone. He had always seemed perfectly quiet and harmless, but -he, the gardener, had been afraid that he might some time have a "spell" -such as he had heard of in similar cases, and so had kept carefully out -of his way. - -In the late afternoon of November 21, he reported, when he returned from -a far corner of the place where he had been pruning, he had found the -patient lying in a faint on the floor of the garage. With some effort he -had dragged him into the house and left him in the drawing-room, after -bandaging his swollen leg as well as he could and forcing part of a -glass of whisky down his throat. Then he had departed, after first -making sure that the doors and windows on the ground floor were securely -fastened. Late the following afternoon he had seen the prisoner standing -at the dining-room window and had heard him call out in a threatening -way to him. A moment afterward, without the slightest warning, the -patient had doubled his fist and smashed the pane of glass to fragments. -Convinced that this was one of the "spells" which he had dreaded, he had -waited until he thought the patient was in bed and had then returned and -boarded up the window. - -Here Dayton interrupted. "And you believed the man in the house to be -ill and alone, and yet you felt no concern about his care?" - -"I didn't think he was alone. I had seen a woman around the place that -afternoon, and I thought she was his nurse." - -A murmur swept around the breathless court-room. Everybody in the -audience made some comment to his neighbor upon this new development. -The judge rapped sharply for order. "Go on," commanded the district -attorney. - -The witness proceeded to relate that he had gone to bed that night -feeling nervous over the patient's conduct and had resolved to give up -his employment at Rest Hollow. About eleven o'clock he had been roused -from a fitful sleep by a knock at his door. Upon opening it he had found -Gifford, the undertaker, standing on the threshold. Here he endeavored -to recollect the exact words of the night caller, and after a moment's -pause, produced the greeting: "Get up, boy. Do you know that there's -been murder committed on this place to-night?" With Gifford he had -hurried around to the dining-room side of the house and had discovered -the dead body lying there under an oleander bush, near the very window -which the patient had so unaccountably broken that same afternoon. -Terrified, he had not paused to give the body even a fleeting glance, -but had stumbled back to his room and made a hasty bundle of his -clothes, determined not to pass another hour on that place. He -remembered Gifford calling after him that he was not going to touch the -body until the coroner had seen it. Ten minutes later he had fled, -leaving his door unlocked behind him. - -He was dismissed from the stand, and after a moment of whispered parley, -came the demand, "Call Arnold Rogers." - -A young man wearing heavy-rimmed glasses took the stand and told of his -encounter with the prisoner on the evening of November 21. He described -the scene at the gate in careful detail, halting frequently to correct -himself. The district attorney interrupted him in mid-sentence. - -"Did it strike you at any time during the dialogue, Mr. Rogers, that the -man inside the grounds might be--irrational?" - -"Yes, but that idea did not occur to me until the end of the interview. -Being a complete stranger in the community, I knew nothing about him, of -course, but his voice and method of appeal struck me as being a little -abnormal, and when I was starting away and he stretched a letter through -the gate and asked me to mail it for him I was convinced that he was not -rational. I was formerly a director at one our State hospitals for the -insane and I know that the mania of patients to write letters and ask -visitors to mail them is one of the commonest symptoms of their -affliction." - -"And so you paid no attention to that appeal?" - -"I was escorting a lady. I planned to take her home first and then -return or send somebody. My car was disabled and I felt responsible for -my companion." - -"Who was the lady?" - -"My sister, Mrs. Paddington. I was visiting at her home. And when we had -gone on our way she told me, what I had already begun to suspect, that -the inmate of Rest Hollow was a mental invalid; that he was well cared -for, and although the case was pathetic, we need feel under no -obligation to return. His attendant, we reasoned, had already discovered -him by that time and taken him back to the house. We had both dismissed -him from our minds when about half an hour later a woman rushed up to -our door, breathless from a long trip by foot, and told us that the -inmate of Rest Hollow had killed himself; that she had found him lying -dead under the dining-room window. I don't remember just who 'phoned the -news in to the proper authorities, but I think it was she. My sister -offered to send her into town in one of her cars, and did so. We never -knew her name nor saw her again." - -"And you credited the woman's story as it stood?" - -"We saw no reason to doubt it. It fitted exactly with our encounter at -the gate. The time was a coincidence, too. We assumed that the young -man's attendant had not arrived in time to save him from suicide. And -there was another reason, too, why we did not care to give the matter -more intensive investigation." He stopped and glanced appealingly at his -questioner, but there was no relenting in the lawyer's eyes. "My sister -had a guest visiting her to whom the name of Roger Kenwick -brought--unhappy associations. She was unfortunately present at the -arrival of the woman from Rest Hollow, and after the shock of the -announcement was over we carefully avoided all further discussion of the -tragedy. The following morning, in courtesy to our guest, I went over to -the Raeburn house with some flowers from the Utopia gardens, and -verified the report that the patient was dead. The next day my sister's -friend left for her home in San Francisco and we considered the affair a -closed incident." - -The testimony of the other witnesses for the prosecution was given in -due order, and the case summed up against Roger Kenwick charged him -with having laid a deliberate plot to murder Marstan, his former keeper, -he being the only man, he thought, who could interfere with his -financial plans, and prevent him from playing upon his brother's -chivalric affection. - -It was pointed out that only a month before his recovery the Kenwick -estate had trebled its value, owing to the fact that leather goods, -which were the source of the Kenwick income, had trebled in value since -the beginning of the war. From newspaper accounts and discussions with -Marstan himself, the recovered patient had shrewdly sized up the -situation and laid his plans. It was previously stated that the elder -Kenwick had, before his brother's misfortune, kept a jealous grip upon -the family purse, and that during his college days at the State -University, Roger Kenwick had been obliged to eke out his allowance by -doing newspaper work on one of the San Francisco dailies. Only in his -softened mood was Everett Kenwick to be counted upon for continued -generosity. - -On the day of the tragedy, the ward had watched Marstan closely and had -seen him depart for town. Earlier in the afternoon he had himself shown -signs of violence in order to sustain the impression that he was still -irresponsible. Kenwick's plan to kill his warden was perfectly safe, -for he knew that if the crime ever came to light he could be cleared on -an insanity charge. His worse punishment would be commitment to an -institution, from which he could later be released by proving himself -cured. - -On the way out from town the doctor's car had pitched over a cliff, -killing him instantly. Kenwick, ignorant of the tragedy and lying in -wait for his victim, saw a man steal in late at night through the side -entrance. No callers ever came to the place, so having no doubt that it -was the returning warden, he had crept up behind him in the darkness and -shot him in the head with the revolver which his attendant always kept -loaded for an emergency, and which the patient by spying upon his warden -one night, had discovered. - -A few minutes previous to the murder he had played a skilful part at the -front gate, holding up the first person who passed and telling an -incoherent story which he knew, coming from him, would not be believed, -and which would be of valuable assistance in case it were ever necessary -to prove an insanity charge. - -When he discovered that he had killed the wrong man, he adopted a plan -which proved him not only rational but unusually astute. From a -previous conversation with the dead man, whom he now recognized as a -fellow who had once come in to assist with some work on the car, he knew -him to be a stranger in the community. He knew himself to be equally -unknown, except by name, and it was an easy matter to exchange -identities. So Kenwick had transferred to the dead man certain of his -own personal possessions which he discovered after his mental recovery. -He had selected these carefully and with diabolical cunning, placed them -in the other man's pockets, and then made his escape from the place -either by foot or in the wagon of the undertaker, which must by this -time have arrived. - -When he reached Mont-Mer, the testimony continued, he had given a -fictitious name, gained the sympathy and credence of the doctor and -undertaker, and finally, by a clever ruse, escaped from town as -custodian of the body of the very man whom he had planned to kill. -Knowing that Marstan was dead, he felt himself completely secure and -foot-free to carry out his designs. The only person upon whom he did not -reckon, because he didn't know of his existence, was Richard Glover. - -The one missing link in the story was supplied by evidence which, -although circumstantial, seemed undeniably convincing to the jury. The -woman who had notified the coroner must also have been an inmate of Rest -Hollow, the mistress of Marstan, who had lived in ease and luxury, -unknown to the physician's employer or any one else. She knew that her -reputation lay in Kenwick's hands. She was tired of Marstan and was -eager but afraid to escape. The criminal had supplied her with the means -at small cost. The time of the disclosure of the crime had been -skilfully worked out between them. And it had been executed with a -masterly skill. Depot authorities had reported later that a woman -traveling alone had bought a ticket on the late train for San Francisco -that evening. The station-agent remembered the incident perfectly. By -good luck Kenwick had caught the same train. They had traveled to the -city together. - -Glover, who had been recalled to the stand and was giving this -testimony, stated that upon dismissing the detective from his employ he -had followed the case himself and was certain that Kenwick and his -accomplice had lived together intermittently in San Francisco, and that -he had been supplying her with funds. - -It was at this point that Roger Kenwick, who had been sitting like a man -frozen to his chair, suddenly electrified the court-room by springing -to his feet. He had forgotten his surroundings, was contemptuous of the -formalities, oblivious to everything save the insolent assurance in -Richard Glover's eyes, and the steady gaze with which Marcreta Morgan's -brother was regarding him. His sensitive nostrils quivered like those of -a highly strung race-horse. His hands, those hands so impatient of -delay, were clenched till the knuckles showed through the drawn skin -like knobs of ivory. He struggled to speak but no words came. Then he -became aware of the fact that the sheriff was forcing him back into his -seat. Dayton leaned over and whispered sharply to him. "Sit down, man. -You'll kill your case. What do you want them to think of you?" - -The words recalled him to his surroundings. From sheer physical weakness -he sank back into his chair. Another moment intervened while the -auditors relaxed from the moment of tension. Then out of the deathly -silence came Dayton's voice again, calm and with no trace of excitement. - -"You say that when you first discovered the prisoner in San Francisco -you employed a detective to help you on his case, Mr. Glover. Look -around the court-room. Is that man present?" - -"He is." There was a shade of reluctance in the reply. - -"What is his name?" - -"Granville Jarvis." - -The next moment Glover had stepped down from the stand and resumed his -place at the far end of the long table. Dayton leaned across to his -client. "Jarvis?" he inquired, his pencil poised above his pad. -"Granville Jarvis; is that the name?" - -The light had gone out of Kenwick's eyes and the fire out of his voice. -He had crumpled down in his chair like a man suddenly overcome with a -spinal disease. He looked at Dayton with dead eyes. - -"The name," he said bitterly, "is Judas Iscariot!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -It was two o'clock before court, which had been dismissed for lunch -after Richard Glover's testimony, convened again. During the noon hour a -tray containing the only tempting food which the prisoner had seen since -his incarceration was brought up to his cell. It had become apparent to -the jailer that he had friends, and perhaps he was moved thereby to a -tardy compassion. But Kenwick, despite Dayton's admonition to "Brace up -and eat a good meal," waved it indifferently aside. - -"I'm done for," he said simply. "I don't see how any twelve men could -hear the evidence that was presented this morning and find me innocent. -And by the time Jarvis gets through telling anything he likes, and -proving it----Well, it appears that every person who has been connected -in any way with me since this trouble fell upon me has taken advantage -of my misfortune to enrich himself. I don't care much now what they do -with me. When you lose your faith in humanity it's time to die. I'm no -religious fanatic, Dayton, but for these last two months I've thanked -God on my knees every night of my life for having brought me back into -the light. Now I wish that I had died instead." - -Dayton made no further effort to rouse him from his despair. For -although not of a sensitive or particularly intuitive temperament -himself, he had come to realize the utter impossibility of finding this -other man in his trouble. "You don't seem to have much faith in me," was -all he said as he made some notes on the back of an envelope. But he -finally induced his client to eat some of the food upon his tray and -after the first few mouthfuls Kenwick was surprised to find that he was -ravenously hungry. - -"That's something like," the lawyer approved, as they made their way -back through the court-house grounds. "Now you're good for another three -hours." - -It hadn't seemed possible to Kenwick that he was, that his nerves could -stand the strain of hours and hours more of this, and there was no -assurance that the ordeal would end to-day or to-morrow. But Dayton's -easy assurance gave him a new grip upon himself. - -They found the audience waiting and eager. None of them seemed to have -moved since they had been dismissed for recess two hours before. Only -the jury were absent, but five minutes after Kenwick's arrival they -filed in and took their places. The district attorney appeared to have -lost interest in the case. He sat staring out of the window with a sort -of wistful impatience as though he were visualizing a potential game of -golf. Dayton glanced at some notes on the table at his elbow and issued -his first command. "Call Madeleine Marstan." - -In response to this summons one of the veiled women in the rear of the -room rose and came forward. She was quietly dressed in a gown of -clinging black silk and a black turban with a touch of amethyst. Every -eye in the court-room was fixed upon her, but she took the oath with the -unembarrassed self-possession of one long accustomed to the public gaze. -Kenwick, turned toward her, detected a faint odor of heliotrope. - -"Where do you live, Mrs. Marstan?" Dayton inquired. - -She gave a street and number in San Francisco. - -"What is your occupation?" - -"I am an actress." - -"Do you know the prisoner?" - -Without glancing at him she replied, with her unruffled composure, "I -do." - -"How long have you known him?" - -"About two months." - -"Describe the occasion on which he was first brought to your notice." - -She settled back slightly in her chair, like a traveler making herself -comfortable for what promised to be a long journey. "It was on the -afternoon of November 19 that my husband, a physician, came into our -apartment in San Francisco and announced to me that he had just secured -a remunerative position with a wealthy man down at Mont-Mer. He said -that the work would begin immediately and we must be ready to leave the -following day. I asked him for more details and he told me that the -position was a secretaryship which would involve little labor and afford -us a luxurious home with excellent salary. He had never been a success -in his profession, owing chiefly to the fact that he was dissipated, and -I had seriously considered leaving him and going back to the stage. But -I had decided to give him another chance, and since he appeared to find -my questions concerning this new work annoying, I agreed to go and allow -him to explain more fully when we should arrive. - -"We went down in our own car and arrived at Rest Hollow in -mid-afternoon. My husband showed me over the house and grounds and I -thought I had never seen such a beautiful place. There was no one about -when we came, and after he had given me every opportunity to be -favorably impressed with the new home, we went to an upstairs -sitting-room in the left wing, and he told me, while he smoked one of -the expensive-looking cigars that he found there, further details -concerning his employer. I learned that he was an invalid, a young man -by the name of Roger Kenwick, who was recuperating from too strenuous -service overseas. We discussed the matter for only a few minutes before -my husband announced that it was time for him to go to the depot and -meet his charge, who was being brought up from Los Angeles by the -previous companion, who had taken him there to be outfitted with winter -clothes. - -"This development in the case rather startled me, and as we walked along -the upper hall and over into the right wing, which he said had been -recently cleaned but was not to be used, I demanded more specific -details concerning the arrangement. I wanted particularly to know why -there was to be a change of 'secretaries' and whether the young man -himself was willing to accept the companionship of people whom he had -never seen. - -"My husband had been drinking. I think he must have found a well-stocked -wine-closet at Rest Hollow. And he finally grew furious at my -insistence. The more angry he became the more he betrayed to me the fact -that there was something to conceal. He had never told me the name of -the man who had offered him this position, but I knew that there must be -an intermediary. While I continued to question him he opened the door of -one of the rooms in the right wing, hoping, I suppose, to distract my -attention. We went on with our discussion there. And at last I refused -pointblank to have anything to do with the affair, and told him that I -was going to leave him and go back to the profession that would afford -me an honest living. This infuriated him. He lost all self-control and -confessed then, what I had already begun to suspect, that young Kenwick -was a mental patient and had been in no way consulted in the -arrangement. This disclosure terrified me, for I knew that my husband -was not a competent person for such a responsibility. Hot words followed -between us, and ended in his knocking me senseless on the floor. When I -recovered consciousness, perhaps an hour later, I found myself locked -into the room with no possible means of escape. The blow had dislodged a -vertebra and I was in horrible pain. For a long time I lay on the bed -massaging the injured place and trying to get comfortable. - -"Early in the evening I heard some one being dragged into the house from -the rear. I was unable to see anything, of course, but I could -distinctly hear footsteps and the subsequent running around of an -attendant. I concluded that my husband had returned drunk, and I was -relieved to know that he had evidently not brought the patient with him. -I knew that I had no recourse but to wait until the stupor had worn off -and my husband came to release me. I spent a wakeful and wretched night. -In the morning----" - -Here a vivid and convincing description of her first encounter with the -patient ensued. She drew a clear-cut picture of her own horror in -hearing footsteps outside her door and of having the name "Roger -Kenwick" called in through the closed portal; of her terror at finding -herself unaccountably alone with a man whom she believed to be a violent -maniac. - -Here Dayton held up the narrative. "What evidence did he give to -convince you of his insanity?' - -"None at first. He seemed to talk quite rationally, and fearing that I -might make him angry if I kept silence, I made evasive answers to his -questions. He prepared food and sent it up to me at what I know now must -have been immense physical cost to himself. I had come to the conclusion -that he, like myself, was the victim of some foul conspiracy and had -decided to risk confiding in him when all at once his manner changed. He -began to talk wildly of finding a loaded revolver and of shooting any -one who came near the place. A few minutes later, for no apparent -reason, I heard him smash a window in the room just under mine. My -terror increased a hundredfold, for I know absolutely nothing about the -proper care of the insane. Late that same night I heard him crawl out -through the broken window, and he called up to me that he was either -going to get help or commit suicide. - -"Almost insane myself now with terror, I waited until I heard his -footsteps grow faint in the distance, then worked at the lock of my -door, and at last succeeded in picking it with a pen-knife. Then I -rushed downstairs, turned on the lights, and tried to make my escape. I -had several of my own personal keys in my possession, and with one of -these I opened the front door, which had been securely locked, I suppose -by the gardener. My one frantic object was to get away and find my -husband. - -"But just as I got the door open I heard a shot fired from the side of -the house. I hurried around there, and when I reached the spot from -which the sound had come, I found just what I feared--a man lying dead -under the window. I thought, of course, that it was the patient who had -killed himself in a mania, as he had threatened to do. Filled with -horror at the idea of leaving him there alone and uncovered in the -storm, I ran back to the living-room, picked up the first thing at hand -(an Indian blanket), and threw it over him. Then I hurried to the -nearest house, about a mile away, and gave the alarm. - -"Believing that it was my husband's neglect that had caused the tragedy, -my purpose was to find him and get his version of the story before I -betrayed him. So I furnished no further information to the authorities -in town save that Roger Kenwick, the inmate of Rest Hollow, had -committed suicide. I really knew nothing else about it but that bare -fact. - -"But that night I discovered, when I reached Mont-Mer, that my husband -had been killed in an auto accident while coming out from the depot. I -went to the morgue and identified his body, ordered the remains to be -shipped north for interment, and left, unknown to any one, on the late -northbound train. The undertaker told me that there had been no other -victim of the tragedy, so I reasoned that the story which Mr. Kenwick -had told me about a sprained leg was true, after all, that he had been -injured in the catastrophe and had, by a curious freak of chance, found -his way back alone to the very place that was awaiting him and in which -he had been living for the preceding ten months." - -Dayton declared himself satisfied with the testimony and turned the -witness over to the prosecution. The district attorney had recovered his -interest. "Mrs. Marstan," he said, groping for his glasses, "can you -produce a certificate of marriage to Dr. Marstan?" - -"I cannot. Important papers, including that, were among the few things -that I took to Rest Hollow in November, and you have been informed that -the place is completely destroyed." - -"That will do." - -She stepped down from the stand, and for the first time her eyes rested -upon the prisoner. In them was an expression that would have given him -new courage had he seen it, but Roger Kenwick sat motionless as a -statue, his gaze fixed immutably upon the floor. It was only when the -name of the next witness was called that he came back to a sense of his -surroundings. "Call Granville Jarvis." - -Dayton surveyed the Southerner sharply before he put his first question. -"You are the detective whom Richard Glover employed in San Francisco to -shadow the prisoner?" - -"I am." - -"How long were you in Mr. Glover's employ?" - -"About two weeks." - -"Two _weeks_? Why did you give up the case then?" - -"Because at the end of that time I was convinced that Roger Kenwick was -neither mentally unbalanced nor guilty of any crime. I communicated this -opinion to Mr. Glover and resigned from further service." - -"But you still continued to shadow the prisoner?" - -"I still continued to cultivate his acquaintance. I considered him one -of the most interesting men I had ever met." - -"And your connections with him since then have been of a purely -friendly character? Not in any way professional, Mr. Jarvis?" - -"No, I can't say that. For a few weeks after I had resigned from Mr. -Glover's service I was asked to take up the case again from a different -angle; employed, I may say, by some one else." - -"By whom?" - -For just an instant the witness hesitated. Then, "By Mr. Clinton -Morgan." - -"Describe that incident, please." - -Jarvis clasped his hands behind his head and stared off into space. "It -was near the end of December that Professor Morgan came to my rooms one -evening and asked my assistance on the case of Richard Glover." - -For the first time since the beginning of the trial, the chief witness -for the prosecution betrayed an unguarded emotion. The narrow slit of -amber, showing between his drooping lids, widened. - -"My caller," Jarvis went on, "explained to me that he and his sister, -who were friends of Roger Kenwick, had stumbled upon a clue the previous -day that had made them suspect that there was foul play about his death; -that perhaps he might even be alive after all, and a base advantage -taken of his helplessness." - -Here Dayton interjected a question. "Was there any special reason why -Professor Morgan should have chanced upon you as the detective for this -investigation? Had you had any previous connection with him?" - -"Only an academic connection. He knew, through university affiliations, -that I was out here on the coast doing some research work for Columbia -in my chosen profession--criminal psychology." - -"Then you are not a detective?" - -"Not in the strict sense of the word. The finding out of a criminal is -only the introductory part of my interest." - -"Proceed with your story, Mr. Jarvis." - -"Well, Professor Morgan and I had lunched together several times over at -the Faculty Club on the campus, so I was not greatly surprised to -receive a call from him. Furthermore, having heard the other side of -this case, I was much interested in the opportunity to study it from a -new angle. For while I was in Mr. Glover's employ, I had, unsuspected by -Kenwick himself, subjected him to a variety of exacting psychological -tests. Under the pretext of making some photographic experiments in -which I was at that time interested, I had enlisted his aid on several -occasions and in this way had made a rather thorough examination of his -five senses, his power of association, his memory (both for -retentiveness and recall), and had tried him out, by means of various -athletic games, for muscular coördination, endurance, poise, and many -other essentials of normality. In only one of these did I find him -defective. And that one was memory. - -"My research was made the more interesting by the fact that shortly -after I undertook the work for Mr. Glover the subject gave me, -voluntarily and quite unsuspectingly, the complete story of his strange -adventure at Rest Hollow, an adventure for which he frankly confessed -that he could not account. It coincided exactly with the hypothesis -which I had established for him; that he had at one period of his life -been mentally unbalanced, and that he had in some way re-gained his -sanity but not completely his memory. When I knew that there was likely -to be a crime attributed to him (for Mr. Glover had hinted as much) my -interest doubled. For Mr. Kenwick had on various occasions shown himself -possessed of the highest ideals and a fineness of caliber which I have -not often encountered. And so, in the employ of Professor Morgan, I -shifted the focal point and turned the search-light of science upon the -accuser. It has resulted in the most startling revelations." - -There was an inarticulate stir in the crowded room. From the rear seats -men and women strained forward to catch every word as it fell, clear-cut -and decisive, from the scientist's lips. Jarvis sat with one hand thrust -into his pocket, and his keen eyes fixed upon the group of lawyers -below. A casual observer of the scene might easily have mistaken his -position and assigned to him the role of prosecuting attorney. - -"There was an insurmountable barrier, of course," he continued, "to my -making any personal examination of Mr. Glover, as I had done with the -former subject. One man was innocent and unsuspecting; the other, I felt -certain, would be on his guard. And he was. Since I left his service, -Richard Glover has avoided me. So a more indirect means of accomplishing -my task had to be devised. After some consideration I decided to enlist -the aid of an ally whom I knew to be both clever and discreet." - -A long-drawn sigh swept the court-room. It was that sigh, a mixture of -eagerness and satisfaction by means of which an audience at a theater -indicates to the actors that the performance is living up to its -advertisements. - -"Mr. Kenwick himself," the witness went on in his calm, even voice, "had -called my attention to a certain Madame Rosalie, a spiritualistic -medium, who was taking the city by storm. He had interviewed her for his -paper, and from his description I imagined that she might be able and -willing to assist me. So I went to see her, and at the first mention of -Mr. Kenwick's name she became intensely interested." - -Here Dayton's voice, sounding a curious little note of exultation, broke -in again. "You have referred to this medium as 'Madame Rosalie.' Was -that her professional or her real name?" - -"Her professional name. Her real name, as she disclosed it to me on the -occasion of my first call, was Madeleine Marstan." - -Another moment of silence and then the witness proceeded. "Having told -me her real name, she went on to describe her unexpected encounter, a -few days previously, with Roger Kenwick, who she had thought was dead. -It seemed that when Kenwick had come to her for a sitting, his name had -been accidentally revealed to her by another client, and it had struck -her with the force of a blow. For it recalled to her mind a horrible -adventure at Mont-Mer, which she narrated for me then in detail. At -first she had surmised that this must be some relative of the -unfortunate young man, and she had done all she could, she said, to -start him upon the track of the tragedy. When she discovered that it was -the man himself, she was glad to place all her powers at my disposal. -For she had returned to the city in November with two dominating -purposes; first to find some employment which would bring in quick money -and so pay her husband's debts and clear his name, and second to -discover, if possible, the identity of the man who had led them both -into the miserable Mont-Mer trap, which resulted so disastrously for -every one concerned in it. She had not been able to make a stage -contract, she said, for the season was too far advanced, and so she had -turned to the occult, in which she had always felt a deep interest, and -for which she knew herself to have an unaccountable talent. Fortunately -her strange psychic ability had caught the attention of one of the -university faculty and she had been given just the publicity which she -needed. - -"And so we deliberately plotted between us the scientific testing of -Richard Glover. I prepared a list of apparently random words in which -were mingled what I call 'dangerous terms'; that is, words which were -connected with the adventure at Rest Hollow. When these and the other -tests were ready, I induced Glover, by means of a casual suggestion from -a mutual acquaintance, to seek the aid of 'Madame Rosalie.' I felt -certain that if he were not intimately connected with the tragedy he -would scorn this idea, and that if he were, it was exactly the time that -he would turn to the supernatural for aid. And I was not mistaken. For -almost immediately he called upon the clairvoyant. And his response to -the tests for association was amazing even to me. If I may quote from -the list of words----" He drew a folded paper from his pocket. "Among -many perfectly irrelevant terms I had smuggled in such words as -'blanket' and 'window' and 'oleander.' Madame Rosalie reported that his -gaze always returned to such suggestive words (despite her admonition to -look at something else) before she could change the card. The -subconscious response to evil association was almost perfect. There were -many other tests, of course, and by the time he had completed them he -had shown an intimate knowledge of the crime at Rest Hollow and an -uneasiness from which any skilful psychologist could take his -starting-point. And then, as a culminating incident, he supplied to the -medium, quite of his own accord, the name 'Rest Hollow,' and put to her -the unexpected question, 'Where is Ralph Regan?' - -"Having been thus convinced that he was the man we sought, Mrs. Marstan -and I continued our investigations together. She went out with him, upon -several occasions, and once, by pre-arrangement, accompanied him to the -theater. On the same evening I invited Kenwick, and, all at once, called -his attention to Glover. The response was like match to powder. The -visual image of his former warden restored, in large degree, his memory. -He was eager to reëstablish the connection. Mrs. Marstan had been -careful to point out Kenwick to her escort, and the result was just what -we had foreseen. It was he who evaded the encounter, supplying a pretext -upon which he and Mrs. Marstan immediately left the theater. - -"But Glover now suspected that he was entrapped. He had already, I knew, -put another detective upon Kenwick's track. When news was published of -Mrs. Fanwell's arrival in Mont-Mer, and the subsequent demand to have -the disappearance of her brother investigated, he decided that his only -course was to act at once. Mrs. Marstan, aided by her unmistakable -psychic ability, had advised him to follow his third plan, and this -plan was to have Kenwick convicted of murder." - -"And this was the report that you turned over to Professor Morgan at the -end of your investigation?" Dayton inquired. - -"This was the report. I was working on it with him up in San Francisco -until late last night. We almost missed the train trying to fit together -the final details. But I think the story, as I have given it to you, is -now complete." - -"Now, one other thing, Mr. Jarvis. In the first part of your testimony -you said that Mr. Morgan told you that he had stumbled upon a clue that -had made him suspicious of Glover. Did he disclose to you the nature of -that clue?" - -"Not at first. I told him that I preferred to work upon some theories of -my own, unprejudiced by any evidence that he might have to offer." - -"And how many times have you seen Mr. Morgan since then?" - -"Only once. We came down from San Francisco together last night." - -"Then you made no reports to him before?" - -For the first time, the witness hesitated. Then his reply came with the -customary clearness. "Not to him. I have reported to Miss Morgan on -several occasions." - -"Then you have been really working with her upon this case?" - -"Yes, almost entirely with her." - -There was a very obvious reluctance in his voice now, but Dayton went on -imperturbably. "When you came down from San Francisco last night, Mr. -Jarvis, was Professor Morgan's sister in your party?" - -"Yes." - -Dayton swept a glance over the rows of faces before him. "Is Miss Morgan -in the court-room now?" - -"She has just come in." The promptness with which the witness had given -his earlier testimony served to make his present reluctance the more -apparent. - -Dayton brought his eyes back to the witness-stand. "That will do." - -Jarvis stepped down. The voice of the auditors, beginning in a subdued -murmur, rose in marked crescendo. No word in it could be distinguished -from another. Yet upon Roger Kenwick's sensitive nerves this message -from the outer world registered. It was unmistakably applause. - -For the first time since the trial began, he felt his mask of graven -indifference slipping from him. He was trembling in every fiber, and -with one unsteady hand he made a pathetic effort to quiet the other. And -then there fell upon his ears like the crash of thunder Dayton's curt -command, "Call Miss Morgan." - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - -As the men standing in the far aisle made way for the new witness, -Kenwick sat with averted eyes. Through the open window he stared out at -the court-house palms which grew to gigantic size and then diminished -under his blistering gaze. It was a monstrous thing, he told himself, -for Clinton Morgan to allow this; to permit his sister to subject -herself to such a strain. What could he be thinking about? But -underneath his miserable apprehension for her there was something else; -something else that sent the fiery blood rioting through his veins. For -she must have been willing. Over and over he repeated to himself this -assurance. She must have been willing to come to his defense, for had -she not been, they could have found a way to avoid it. - -Marcreta Morgan, in long fur-trimmed motor-coat and dark veil, took the -place which Granville Jarvis had vacated. She had none of Madeleine -Marstan's calm self-assurance, but although she gave her testimony in a -low voice, it was distinctly audible throughout the court-room. She sat -with one gloved hand clasping the arm of the chair and her eyes resting -upon Dayton. Only once, at the very end of the examination, did she -raise them to meet the argus-eyed spectators. Dayton put his questions -in an easy conversational tone as though he and the witness were alone -in the room. - -"Miss Morgan, how long have you known the prisoner?" - -"About two years." - -"Describe the occasion of your first meeting." - -She did so in words that sounded carefully rehearsed. - -"And after he left San Francisco to go East and visit his brother did -you ever hear from him?" - -"Yes. He wrote frequently, telling me about his brother's recovery from -illness and other affairs, and then later that he had decided to enlist -in the army." - -"At that time, Miss Morgan, had you ever known the State's witness here, -Richard Glover?" - -"It was about that time that I first met him." - -"Describe your first encounter with him." - -Again the carefully prepared report. But she was gaining in -self-possession now, and the veil seemed to annoy her. With steady -fingers she reached up and removed it. Clinton Morgan, watching her -from the front row of seats, with a hawklike vigilance, was suddenly -reminded of that Sunday night in the old library when she had first -broken her long silence concerning Roger Kenwick, and had seemed all at -once to come into a belated heritage. - -The jurymen were leaning slightly forward in their seats, their eyes -fixed upon the regal, fur-coated figure with delicately flushed profile -showing clear-cut as a cameo against the frosted window-pane. Dayton -thought that he caught an elusive fragrance that reminded him of -something growing in his mother's garden. - -"And how many times," he proceeded, "how many times have you seen -Richard Glover during the past year?" - -"I can't say exactly. For several months after our first meeting I -didn't see him at all. But during the last three months his calls have -been more and more frequent." - -"Has your brother known of these visits?" - -"My brother was in government service in Washington until about two -months ago. He didn't know of them until he returned." - -"And has he approved of them?" - -"No, I can't say that he has." - -"Did he ever give any reason for his opposition?" - -"He told me that he suspected Mr. Glover of being an adventurer who was -in need of----" - -Here the district attorney interrupted. "We object. The suspicions of -another person are irrelevant, incompetent, and have nothing to do with -the case." - -"Sustained," the judge decreed. "Stick to the facts, Mr. Dayton." - -"During those three months, Miss Morgan, has Richard Glover made an -effort to induce you to marry him?" - -Her reply was given in a very low voice, but Dayton was sure that the -jury caught it and he did not ask her to repeat. It was evident that the -audience heard it, too, for another murmur rose and trailed off into -silence before the lawyer went on. "Is it true that _you_ were the one -who discovered the clue which led you and your brother to seek the -services of Mr. Jarvis on this case?" - -She acknowledged it with a single word. - -"And what was that clue?" - -The gloved fingers closed a little closer over the arm of the chair. And -then followed a story which caused Roger Kenwick to tear his gaze away -from the fantastic palm-trees and fix it upon Richard Glover's face. -There was no resentment in his eyes, but only the dawning of a great -light. Granville Jarvis, watching him as a physician might watch beside -the bedside of an unconscious patient, knew by the leaping flame in -those somber eyes that the last lap of the long journey had been -covered, and that Roger Kenwick's memory had come home to him. But if -that knowledge brought him a scientist's satisfaction, he gave no sign -of it. After that one intent moment, his eyes returned to the -witness-stand and fixed themselves upon Marcreta Morgan's face. Dayton -was proceeding relentlessly. - -"If you knew from the first that Richard Glover had stolen this story -which he read to you as his own, why didn't you relate the circumstance -to Mr. Kenwick when you saw him on the night that he was arrested for -murder?" - -The reply came haltingly, as though the witness were feeling her way -over uneven ground. "My brother and I had consulted Mr. Jarvis about -that and he had advised against it. He didn't wish to arouse any -suspicions in--in the prisoner's mind just then. And--well, you see, Mr. -Kenwick and I had not seen each other since his--illness and during -that first meeting we both avoided everything connected with--with the -tragedy as much as possible. Of course if we had known that this charge -of--of crime was to be preferred against him, I suppose we would have -acted differently." - -This was no carefully rehearsed response, but nothing that she could -have said would have disclosed more clearly the inside workings of the -opposition's conspiracy. The web that had been woven around the prisoner -had enmeshed with him every one who had ever been intimately associated -with his past. - -And now that romance had entered upon the sordid scene the whole aspect -of the case was changed. The air became charged all at once with an -electric current of sympathy. To every man and woman in the room Richard -Glover now appeared in the guise of a baffled adventurer, and Roger -Kenwick as a man who had loved, and because of cruel circumstance had -lost. But had he really lost? The crux of public interest shifted with -the abruptness of a weathercock, from mystery to romance. - -"You assert, Miss Morgan, that you knew this story, 'A Brother of -Bluebeard,' to be the one which the prisoner had read to you before he -left for the East almost two years ago. What proof could you furnish of -this?" - -"At the time that Mr. Glover read the story to me I had in my possession -the sequel to it, which Mr. Kenwick had sent me in manuscript for my -criticism, just before he left for training-camp. It used many of the -same characters and was rooted in the same plot." - -"Could you produce that manuscript?" - -"Mr. Jarvis can produce it. I turned it over to him." - -The former witness leaned forward and laid a heap of pencil-written -manuscript upon the table. But Dayton scarcely glanced at it. With one -hand he pushed it aside, and then shifted the current of his interest -into another channel. "When, and by what means, Miss Morgan, did you -discover that Roger Kenwick had returned from France mentally disabled?" - -Her reply to this question came in a voice that was struggling against -heavy odds for composure. "It was exactly one year ago to-day that I -received that news. Several letters of mine to--the prisoner were -returned to me unopened. And with them came a communication from Mr. -Everett Kenwick telling me that--that it had become necessary for them -to send his brother to a private asylum." - -"Did you know where that asylum was?" - -"Not then. He told me that he was debating over several different places -but that he had almost decided upon a friend's home in southern -California. He didn't tell me where this home was. I think he realized -that--that I would rather not know." - -"And when did you discover that that place was Mont-Mer?" - -"On the night that Mr. Kenwick was reported dead." - -A murmur that was distinctly a wave of sympathy filled the chamber. But -eagerness to catch the next question quieted it. - -"After that first letter telling you about the prisoner's misfortune, -did you ever hear from Mr. Everett Kenwick again?" - -"Only once. Just a week before he died, he wrote again. He had just lost -his wife and he seemed to have a premonition that he was not going to -live very long." - -She was feeling for her handkerchief in the pocket of the fur-trimmed -coat. Some of the men in the court-room averted their eyes. The face of -more than one woman softened. Clinton Morgan sat regarding his sister -with a curious composure. In his eyes was that mixture of compassion and -awe that he had worn on the night when the gold and ivory book had -betrayed to him her secret. - -"Yes?" Dayton went on gently, but with the same relentless persistence. -"He wrote to you again? And what did he say?" - -"He said that he wanted me to have something that had belonged--to his -brother. He told me that he felt that Roger Kenwick would have wished me -to have it. And with the letter there came a box in which I found----" - -She had finished her search in the pocket of the motor-coat, and now she -held something between her gloved fingers. "Mr. Everett Kenwick himself -had only received it a short time before. There had been some delay and -confusion about it, owing I suppose to his brother having been sent -home--in just the way that he was. He himself never knew that he had won -it. But it was such a wonderful display of courage----And the French -officer whose life he had saved sent a letter, too, saying that France -was grateful and wanted to express her appreciation in some way so----" - -And then she held it up before them; before the lawyers and the jury -and the crowd of spectators--a bit of metal on its patch of ribbon. -Holding it out before them, she sat there like a sovereign waiting to -confer a peerage. And not the judge's gavel nor the commanding voice of -the district attorney could still the tumult that rose and swelled into -tumultuous applause. - - * * * * * - -On the day following the notorious Kenwick murder trial, the Mont-Mer -papers carried little other news. A special representative from the "San -Francisco Clarion" and several Los Angeles journalists fed their copy -over the wires and had extras out in both cities by eight o'clock. - -"Kenwick Acquitted" was the head-line which his own paper ran, with his -picture and one of Richard Glover sharing prominence upon the front -page. And because of Kenwick's previous connection with this daily and -the fact that the two star witnesses for the defense were well known in -the Bay region, the "Clarion's" story was the most comprehensive and -colorful. - -It opened with a report of Dayton's speech which, it appeared, had -electrified every one in the court-room, including the prisoner himself. -But it had been unnecessary for the attorney to make a plea for his -client, after the quietly dramatic testimony of the last witness for -the defense. In thrilling terms the "Clarion" described Kenwick's final -service at the front, when he had made his way alone across -No-Man's-Land and saved for France one of her most gallant officers, and -had given in exchange that thing which is more precious than life -itself. Only through an accident, which had killed the man who had meant -to batten upon his misery, had he been released from a pitiable bondage. - -Having thus sketched in his "human interest," the reporter proceeded to -tell the story which had proved so overwhelmingly convincing to the jury -and audience. How, in his skilfully planned narrative, Richard Glover -had transposed the identities of the two dead men. How, upon receiving -his commission from Everett Kenwick, he had first turned over his charge -to Ralph Regan, admitted by his own sister to be an addict to drugs and -a ne'er-do-well whom she was helping, in a surreptitious way, to -support. How the accounts, forwarded from the Kenwick lawyer in New -York, showed that Regan must have received out of the arrangement only -his living and enough of the drug to keep him satisfied but not wholly -irresponsible. How, upon his own infrequent visits to the patient (whom -he himself had conducted across the continent instead of the mythical -Bailey) Glover had foreseen two months before the tragedy that Regan -could no longer be relied upon and had told him that he was about to be -dismissed. - -How he had then secured the services of one Edward Marstan, whom he -believed to be without family, and who represented himself as a -physician in good standing but heavily in debt. How the arrangement had -been made that he assume charge of the patient at the Mont-Mer depot, -whither Kenwick was to be brought up from a day's sojourn in Los Angeles -by Regan. How the physician, accompanied by his wife, had arrived from -San Francisco that very day; how Marstan had quarreled with his wife, -and leaving her unconscious in a room at Rest Hollow, had gone into town -to get his charge. How, on the way out from town he had been killed in -an accident while driving his own car, and how, by a curious fate, -Kenwick had been restored to sanity and had found his way back alone to -his former asylum. - -The story then went on to relate how Ralph Regan, evidently desperate -over his loss of a home and drug supplies, had returned to Rest Hollow -by stealth the following night, either to make a plea to the new -caretaker or to search for drugs, and of how, finding the house dark and -apparently deserted, he had forsaken all hope of reinstatement and had -ended his life with the revolver which he had brought either for murder -of Marstan or for suicide. The shot which he fired, the paper stated, -had evidently been used to test his own nerve or the cartridges; and it -had done its work. Letters written to his sister a few weeks before the -tragedy, and produced by her in court, indicated a depression amounting -to acute melancholia. - -Recalled to the witness-stand and subjected to crucial -cross-examination, the gardener at Rest Hollow had broken down in his -testimony, admitted that he was afraid of Glover, and that although he -had been in too dazed a condition on the fatal night to examine the body -of the dead man, he knew Ralph Regan to have been the former attendant -and had frequently talked to him about the patient's symptoms, about -which Regan appeared to know little and care less. - -The narrative then went on to tell how Richard Glover had discovered -among the possessions of his charge certain manuscripts which he deemed -suitable for publication, and how he had, after the death of the elder -Kenwick, sold one of them under the name of Ralph Regan, choosing a -real rather than a fictitious name in order that he might shift the -theft to helpless shoulders if it were ever discovered. How he had, with -the Kenwick capital entrusted to him, invested in large realty holdings -which had completely absorbed his attention. How he had padded his -accounts in order to wring extra money from Everett Kenwick under the -guise of "special treatments" for the patient and so on. How on the -night of the fatality he had driven to Rest Hollow from Los Angeles to -give some final instructions to the new employee, and how, stumbling -upon the dead body of Regan, he had been shocked to find himself -involved in a tragedy. How he had then cold-bloodedly decided to have -the body identified as Kenwick, partly to save himself from the charge -of criminal neglect and partly because he knew that Everett Kenwick had -left in his will a bequest that was to come to him "for faithful -service" upon the death or recovery of his brother. How, not dreaming -that his charge would ever recover, he had thus used his death as a -means of gaining extra funds which he badly needed just at that time. - -How he had accordingly selected certain of the patient's personal -possessions with which he had been entrusted, to deceive the coroner. -How all the subsequent action had seemed to play into his hands: the -coroner's easy acquiescence in the suicide theory and the identity of -the body; the chance discovery, through Arnold Rogers, that the story of -Kenwick's self-destruction had already been accepted by the community. - -How, preceding the coroner's inquest, Glover had spent the morning -tracing the antecedent action of the tragedy and had heard of the -accident which had killed Marstan. How he had erred in suspecting that -the real victim of the tragedy was Kenwick and that the attendant had -had the body identified as his own and then made his escape, fearing to -communicate the news of the disaster to his employer. How he, Glover, -had been startled to discover later that Kenwick was not only alive but -had apparently recovered his mental health. - -The remainder of the story was given as the testimony of Madeleine -Marstan, well-known favorite in the former Alcazar stock company, and -Granville Jarvis, expert psychologist, whose skilful work was a strong -plea for the admission of that newest of the sciences into court-room -procedure. - -During this latter testimony, the "Clarion" asserted, interest had been -divided between the ultimate fate of the accused and the valuable -contributions which the laboratory experiments of the witness had given -the case. The word-tests which he had provided to the medium were, he -had explained, one of the surest means of discovering the train of -associations which lodge in the guilty mind. He had never been convinced -that Glover himself had committed a murder, but suspected that his crime -lay in trying to fasten it upon a man whom he knew to be both innocent -and helpless. The cards, containing a mixture of irrelevant and relevant -words, had been shown him and then he had been instructed to turn his -head in the opposite direction. These instructions he had carefully -observed except in the cases of terms which held evil associations. In -such cases his eyes almost invariably turned back to the card with the -printed word. Such terms as "gravel" and "oleander" had produced this -attraction. But they had also aroused his suspicions. And from the day -of his first call upon "Madame Rosalie" the situation between them had -been a succession of clever manoeuvers. Neither one of them had dared -to let the other go. But in this encounter Mrs. Marstan had had the -advantage. What he was able to find out about her was little compared -with what she had discovered concerning him. - -That she possessed unmistakable psychic powers could not be disputed. By -a means of communication, which she could not herself explain, she had -received at the time of Roger Kenwick's interview with her a message -from the spirit of Isabel Kenwick, confessing that it was she who had -unwittingly brought Richard Glover into his life, and entreating his -forgiveness. - -As to the concluding story of the actress, it was concerned with her -description of how she had identified the body of her husband at the -morgue on the evening of her flight from Rest Hollow; of how she had -turned all arrangements for its shipment and burial over to the Mont-Mer -and San Francisco undertakers, desiring to figure as little as possible -in connection with the death of the man who had ruined her life. Of how -she had succeeded in paying the debts against his name and had recently -signed a stage contract with an eastern theatrical company. - -When the trial was ended the crowd that jammed the room rose and surged -toward the man in the prisoner's box, like a human tidal wave. "Keep -them back, Dayton," Kenwick implored. "I don't want to talk to them." - -Somehow his attorney managed to check the onrush, and the throng of -congratulatory spectators was headed toward the exits. The room was -almost empty when some one touched the prisoner's arm. - -"Can you give me a few words?" It was one of the local reporters. -"You're a newspaper man yourself, Mr. Kenwick, and you know how it is -about these things." - -Kenwick shook him off. "Come around later, to the hotel, if you like," -he said, and turned to take a hand that was timidly held out to him. - -"I didn't know whether you'd be willing to speak to me or not, Mr. -Kenwick. But I just wanted to tell you that I'm satisfied, more than -satisfied with--the way it has all come out." - -"I am glad to hear that, Mrs. Fanwell," Kenwick told her gravely. "I -would never have been quite satisfied myself unless I had heard you say -that. I wish you would leave your address with Dayton, for, you see, I -feel a little bit responsible for you, and I would like to put you in -the way of getting a new hold on life." - -The only other person in the room with whom he stopped to talk was -Madeleine Marstan, who stood in conversation with Dayton near the door. -To her his words of thanks were the more eloquent perhaps because they -came haltingly, impeded by an emotion which he could not master. - -"It was nothing," she told him. "Nothing that I didn't owe you, Mr. -Kenwick." - -"I don't see that you owed me anything," he objected. "As the affair has -developed, we were both the victims of an ugly plot. It certainly was -not your fault. And once out of that accursed house, _you_ were free." - -"Not my fault--no," she repeated, "but my responsibility afterward." She -gazed past him out of the window where, at the curb, Arnold Rogers was -assisting a fur-coated figure into the Paddington limousine. "You see, -Edward Marstan was my husband and----Well, some day you may come to -realize, Mr. Kenwick, that when a woman has loved, there is no such word -as 'free.'" - -At the foot of the stairway Kenwick spoke with an almost curt -suppression to Granville Jarvis. "I'm going over to the hotel with -Morgan. Come over there." - -The other man made no reply save a slight inclination of his head, and -there was in his eyes an expression which haunted and mystified the -released prisoner. - -"Jarvis is a wizard," he said to Clinton Morgan as they walked the few -short blocks to Mont-Mer's leading hostelry. "If they ever let down the -bars of the court-room to men like that, they'll revolutionize legal -procedure. He seems to have seen this case from every angle." - -"From more angles than you imagine," his friend replied. "And he had let -me in on some of the most interesting of his findings that were not -revealed in court. For instance, he examined that gardener this morning, -just for his own satisfaction. The boy was willing, even flattered by -the attention. Jarvis told me afterward that a witness like that ought -to be ruled out of court. And he is typical of the mass of men and women -who assist in acquitting the guilty and sending the innocent to the -gallows. The average physician examining him would pronounce him normal. -He can hear a sound distinctly, for instance, but he is afflicted with -that common defect, the equivalent, Jarvis says, of color-blindness in -the visual realm, which makes it impossible for him to tell whether the -sound comes from behind or in front of him. And he lacks completely a -visual memory. He could recall the exact words that Gifford said to him -on the night of the suicide but he couldn't remember whether the body -was covered or uncovered when he saw it. And as for the tests with -Glover----By the way, what are you going to do with Glover?" - -"I don't know yet. I haven't got that far. I think I can forgive him -everything except that infamous story about Everett being close with me -while I was under age. Why, I had too much money while I was in college, -Morgan. That's the chief reason why I didn't push my literary work with -greater zeal. The creative temperament is naturally indolent. It -requires a spur, not necessarily a financial one, but so much the better -if it is. Of course Glover and I will have to have a financial -reckoning. I can see now why my frantic messages to our family lawyer -were never answered. I suppose he's had dozens of communications from -people purporting to be connected by blood or marriage with the Kenwick -estate. Yes, Glover has got some things to answer to me for, but----" -His mind flew back to that last evening that he had spent in the -fire-lit living-room on Pine Street. "He brought hell into my life for a -time," he ended slowly. "But he brought--something else into it, too." - -It was half an hour later, after Kenwick had bathed and dressed for -dinner, that Granville Jarvis came up to his room. Kenwick admitted him -with an inarticulate word of greeting. Then while with fumbling fingers -he put on a fresh collar, he made an attempt at normal conversation. - -"Been expecting you," he said. "Morgan is down in the lobby. We'll all -have dinner here first and then----" - -"Can't do it," Jarvis cut in. "I have another engagement for dinner, and -I'm leaving town on the eight-forty northbound. I just ran up to say -good-by and--good luck." - -"Where are you going?" - -Jarvis smiled. "To Argentina, so far as you are concerned. But you can -call it Columbia if you like. I'm returning to my work there. You see, -I've been away on leave." - -"You've got to stay long enough for me to tell you something," Kenwick's -voice cut in authoritatively. "But you couldn't stay long enough, -Jarvis, for me to thank you for what you've done." - -His caller held up a hand. "Please don't. Not that--please." - -"But," Kenwick went on, "you've got to hear an apology. I was just about -on the verge of a collapse over there, and when you got up in court as -the representative of Glover----Well, I didn't know the game, you see -and I thought----" - -"I know; Brutus." It was Jarvis who finished the sentence. "And in a -sense, you were right," he went on slowly. "For what I did, I did--not -for you." - -"You did it for science, of course; because to you I was an interesting -case. But what can I ever do to repay you? How can----" - -"I have been paid." The same haunting, baffling expression was in the -scientist's eyes, and he was not looking at the man whom his testimony -had freed. - -"Oh, I don't mean money!" Kenwick cried hotly. "I know you have that!" - -"I don't mean money, either." He forced his gaze back to his host. And -then that sixth sense which is in the soul of every creative artist -awoke in Kenwick's being and made his eyes luminous with understanding. - -Jarvis picked up his hat from the chair into which it had dropped. "I'm -going out to the Paddingtons' for dinner," he said casually. "I'll have -about----" He snapped open the cover of his watch, then closed it again. -"The most devilish thing about life on this planet, Kenwick, is that we -can't do very much for each other. The game is largely solitaire. But -for any good that I ever did I've been well repaid. Any man ought to be -satisfied, I think, when the gods allow him two full hours--in Utopia." - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -It was the morning after his acquittal that Kenwick and Marcreta Morgan -drove out of the Paddington gateway in one of the Utopia machines. They -turned to the left and took the stretch of perfect asphalt road that led -to the old Raeburn house. - -The mystery of its destruction had never been explained. Richard Glover, -and every one else who was connected with the case of Ralph Regan, had -proved a satisfactory alibi. The owner of Rest Hollow had been notified -by wire of its destruction and he had replied with orders that the -grounds were to be kept locked and admission denied to all callers. It -had undoubtedly been one of the handsomest homes in a community of -handsome homes, but since the first days of its existence fate had -destined it for tragedy. And perhaps its owner was relieved to know that -only a pile of whitening ashes marked the grave of his own romance and -the prison of another man's hope. At all events, the mystery of its -passing never has been solved, and conjecture concerning it is still a -favorite topic around the tea-tables of Mont-Mer's fashionable suburban -district. - -"But I want to _see_ it in ruins," Kenwick had told Marcreta after their -first radiant hour together. "I want to know that it is really gone off -the face of the earth, so that when it comes to me in memory I can -assure myself that it is only a dream." - -They turned the last corner and came suddenly in sight of the tall iron -gate. Across it a sinister chain swung ominously, warning the world away -from communication with that most dreadful affliction that can befall a -human soul. The ruins of Rest Hollow loomed somber and shapeless before -them, and Roger Kenwick brought his car to a stop in the very spot where -Arnold Rogers had once halted, hesitated, and then gone on his way. -Guarding the pile like a battered but relentless sentinel was the tall, -charred chimney of the dining-room. As he looked at it, Kenwick's hand -sought instinctively for that of the woman beside him, as though to -assure himself of her reality. And then he heard himself ask the -question that for so long had beaten against his brain. - -"How could you do it? How could you send me away that night, dear, into -the horrors of war and--this, without hope?" - -"I couldn't know," she told him desperately. "I couldn't foresee what was -coming. And I wanted you to win a place in the world. I wanted you to -win, as I knew you could if you were unhampered by----" - -"Unhampered!" He echoed the word incredulously, as though it were quite -new and its meaning not clear. "Is any one ever hampered by love and -inspiration and all that----" - -"You don't understand," she said. "Nobody can understand physical -disability except those who have suffered it. My mother had a sister who -was a bed-ridden invalid. She helped her husband to find his place in -the world and keep it. But he never seemed to realize that she had -helped him. He always thought, though I suppose he never said, that his -marriage had held him back. And she died at last of a broken heart. -Through all my youth I had her tragedy before me." - -There was a moment of silence between them. And then Kenwick spoke -slowly. "You hadn't much faith in me, Marcreta. You admit now that you -loved me, yet you hadn't much faith--in my character or my----" - -"But love comes a long time before faith, Roger. It always does. And I -was younger then. I didn't know so much about life and--and character. -But, oh, when they wrote me about this! I would have given anything on -earth to have lived over again our last night together!" - -"I know! I know!" His voice was vibrant with self-reproach. - -"Your brother must have been splendid," she went on. "He wrote me such a -wonderful letter. But he couldn't soften it; nobody can ever dilute the -big tragedies of life. We must drink them unstrained. I knew that you -were somewhere in this county, and when I came down here, just that one -time, I liked to feel that I was near you. I couldn't have endured to -see you, but I wanted to be near you for a little while before--I did -anything else. And then that night when you came back, I couldn't be -sure----Everything was so changed. You were so different from the -carefree boy who had gone away. I knew, of course, that you would be; in -a sense, I wanted you to be. But I didn't want you to feel bound by -anything that had gone before. I was afraid you might feel that way. Oh, -a woman is at such a disadvantage, Roger. She is always at a -disadvantage if the man she loves is honorable and chivalrous." - -"I had work to do," he reminded her gently. "I had to quiet the title to -my name. For when a woman marries a man, Marcreta, she marries his past, -every bit of it. Before I could offer my life to you again, I had to be -certain that every minute of it was clean and decent and above reproach. -I was not willing to let any of it go on the grounds of -irresponsibility. I never would have been satisfied. And you never would -have been satisfied. There would always have been for both of us -terrible moments of doubt. The bramble-bush lay between us. I had to -tear it away first; I had to tear it away and look bravely at whatever -lay underneath." - -A shaft of golden sunlight suddenly broke through the January clouds and -slanted across the road. Roger Kenwick's eyes followed it as though -seeking for the treasure that might lie revealed at last at the end of a -rainbow. A sharp exclamation escaped him. And he felt the quick response -of the hand that still lay in his. - -Drawing the heavy motor-cloak closer about her, he helped Marcreta -Morgan out of the car and guided her to a spot about a hundred yards on -the other side of the iron gate. "I remember now!" His words came in the -low, awed voice of one who suddenly encounters in broad daylight some -object that has played conspicuous part in an evil and oft-recurring -dream. - -"At last!" he said, and stood rooted to the roadside gazing at the thing -for which, during the last two months, he had been so desperately -groping. "This one thing," he went on, "this one thing about those -impenetrable months here I do remember. I believe that if I had chanced -to see it on that afternoon of my recovery, if I had only chanced to -come this way instead of around by the other road, it might have -restored to me some memory of this place." - -They stood now on the edge of the strip of pavement, where dead leaves -spread a spongy carpet between the asphalt and the barbed-wire fence -that bordered the opposite estate. And what they looked upon was a huge -boulder, half embedded in the earth. By some mighty and persistent force -it had been rent asunder, and now, up through the cleft which tore its -surface with a long jagged scar, a sapling eucalyptus-tree, perfectly -shaped and beautifully proportioned, had pushed its way. A zephyr or -perhaps a bird had sown the seed in this rock-bound prison. And with a -vitality that appeared incredible it had taken root and grown there, -stretching vigorous, red-tipped leaves heavenward. In some miraculous -manner its tap-root had found the sustaining soil, and its flame-colored -crown the sunlight. There it stood, on the lonely road to Rest Hollow, a -living torch of liberty, flaunting its heroic triumph above the -shattered body of its foe. - -"On the day that Glover first brought me here, I saw that tree." -Kenwick's voice was scarcely more than a whisper. "I remember looking -out at it from an opening in the fence. I didn't know just why I was -here, but I had a sense of--I can't describe it to you--but it was a -sense of _imprisonment_. I knew that if I wanted to get out of that -place I couldn't do it, and there's no feeling on earth like that. And -then I saw--this, and it thrilled me. In a curious, unexplainable way it -gave me hope. I don't recall anything else about the place, and I don't -remember whether I ever saw this again. But during these last two months -I have been looking for something that I knew I had lost out of my life, -and here it is." - -Marcreta Morgan reached over and touched the sapling's damp bark with -reverent fingers. From a cleft in the conquered boulder came the pungent -odor of the crushed leaves that were sustaining this new life. She -turned to the man beside her with shining eyes. - -"The resurrection!" she cried. - -He drew her close to him beneath the tender branches of the valiant -little sapling. - -"An imprisoned soul," he whispered, "liberated at last--by the miracle -of love." - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Rest Hollow Mystery, by Rebecca N. 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