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If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The leading lady - -Author: Geraldine Bonner - -Release Date: November 9, 2022 [eBook #69322] - -Language: English - -Produced by: D A Alexander and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by University of California - libraries) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LEADING LADY *** - - - - - -THE LEADING LADY - - - - - _The_ - LEADING LADY - - _By_ - GERALDINE BONNER - - AUTHOR OF - _To-morrow’s Tangle, The Pioneer, - Rich Men’s Children, The - Book of Evelyn_ - - INDIANAPOLIS - THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY - PUBLISHERS - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1926 - BY THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY - - - _Printed in the United States of America_ - - - PRINTED AND BOUND - BY BRAUNWORTH & CO., INC. - BROOKLYN, NEW YORK - - - - - _The_ - LEADING LADY - - - - -_PROLOGUE_ - - -ONE of the morning trains that tap the little towns along the Sound ran -into the Grand Central Depot. It was very hot in the lower levels of -the station and the passengers, few in number--for it was midsummer and -people were going out of town, not coming in--filed stragglingly up the -long platform to the exit. One of them was a girl, fair and young, with -those distinctive attributes of good looks and style that drew men’s -eyes to her face and women’s to her clothes. - -People watched her as she followed the porter carrying her suit-case, -noting the lithe grace of her movements, her delicate slimness, -the froth of blonde hair that curled out under the brim of her -hat. She appeared oblivious to the interest she aroused and this -indifference had once been natural, for to be looked at and admired -had been her normal right and become a stale experience. Now it was -assumed, an armor under which she sought protection, hid herself from -morbid curiosity and eagerly observing eyes. To be pointed out as -Sybil Saunders, the actress, was a very different thing from being -pointed out as Sybil Saunders, the fiancée of James Dallas of the -Dallas-Parkinson case. - -The Dallas-Parkinson case had been a sensation three months back. James -Dallas, a well-known actor, had killed Homer Parkinson during a quarrel -in a man’s club, struck him on the head with a brass candlestick, -and fled before the horrified onlookers could collect their senses. -Dallas, a man of excellent character, had had many friends who claimed -mitigating circumstances--Parkinson, drunk and brutal, had provoked -the assault. But the Parkinson clan, new-rich oil people, breathing -vengeance, had risen to the cause of their kinsman, poured out money -in an effort to bring the fugitive to justice, and offered a reward -of ten thousand dollars for his arrest. Of course Sybil Saunders had -figured in the investigation, she was the betrothed of the murderer, -their marriage had been at hand. She had gone through hours of -questioning, relentless grilling, and had steadily maintained her -ignorance of Dallas’ whereabouts; from the night of his disappearance -she had heard nothing from him and knew nothing of him. The Parkinsons -did not believe her statement, the police were uncertain. - -As she walked toward the exit she carried a newspaper in her hand. -Other people in the train had left theirs in their seats, but she, -after a glance at the head-lines, had folded hers and laid it in her -lap. Three seats behind her on the opposite side of the aisle she -had noticed a man--had met his eyes as her own swept back carelessly -over the car--and it was then that she had laid the paper down and -looked out of the window. Under the light film of rouge on her cheeks -a natural color had arisen. She had known he would be there but was -startled to find him so close. - -Now as she moved across the shining spaciousness of the lower-level -waiting-room she stole a quick glance backward. He was following, -mounting the incline. It was the man who had gone up with her on -Friday. She had been out of town several times lately on week-end -visits and one of them was always on the train. Sometimes it was a new -one but she had become familiar with the type. - -She knew he was behind her at the taxi stand as she gave the address -in a loud voice. But he probably would disappear now; in the city they -generally let her alone. It was only when she left town that they were -always on hand, keeping their eye on her, ready to follow if she should -try to slip away. - -The taxi rolled out into the sweltering heat; incandescent streets -roaring under the blinding glare of the sun. Her destination was the -office of Stroud & Walberg, theatrical managers, and here in his -opulent office set in aerial heights above the sweating city, Mr. -Walberg offered her a friendly hand and a chair. Mr. Walberg, a kindly -Hebrew, was kindlier than ever to this particular visitor. He was sorry -for her--as who in his profession was not--and wanted to help her along -and here was his proposition: - -A committee of ladies, a high-society bunch summering up in -Maine, wanted to give a play for charity. They’d got the chance -to do something out of the ordinary, for Thomas N. Driscoll, the -spool-cotton magnate who was in California, had offered them his -place up there--Gull Island was the name--for an outdoor performance. -Mr. Walberg, who had never seen it, enlarged on its attractions as -if he had been trying to make a sale--a whole island, just off the -mainland, magnificent mansion to be turned over to the company, -housekeeper installed. The crowning touch was an open-air amphitheater, -old Roman effect, tiers of stone seats, said to be one of the most -artistic things of its kind in the country. The ladies had wanted a -classic which Mr. Walberg opined was all right seeing the show was -for charity, and people could stand being bored for a worthy object. -_Twelfth Night_ was the play they had selected, and as that kind of -stage called for no scenery one thing would go as well as another. - -The ladies had placed the matter in Mr. Walberg’s hands, and he had -at once thought of Sybil Saunders for Viola. She had played the part -through the provinces, made a hit and was in his opinion the ideal -person. There was a persuasive, almost coaxing quality in his manner, -not his usual manner with rising young actresses. But, as has been -said, he was a kindly man, and had heard that Sybil Saunders was -knocked out, couldn’t get the heart to work; also, as she was a young -person of irreproachable character, he inferred she must be hard up. -That brought him to compensation--not so munificent, but then Miss -Saunders was not yet in the star class--and all expenses would be -covered, including a week at Gull Island. This opportunity to dwell in -the seats of the mighty, free of cost, with sea air and scenery thrown -in, Mr. Walberg held before her as the final temptation. - -He had no need for further persuasion for Miss Saunders accepted -at once. She was grateful to him and said so and looked as if she -meant it. He felt the elation of a good work done for the charitable -ladies--they could get no one as capable as Sybil Saunders for the -price--and for the girl herself whose best hope was to get back into -harness. So, in a glow of mutual satisfaction, they walked to the door, -Mr. Walberg telling over such members of the cast as had already been -engaged: Sylvanus Grey for the Duke, Isabel Cornell for Maria, John -Gordon Trevor for Sir Toby--no one could beat him, had the old English -tradition--and Anne Tracy for Olivia. At that name Miss Saunders had -exclaimed in evident pleasure. Anne Tracy would be perfect, and it -would be so lovely having her, they were such friends. Mr. Walberg -nodded urbanely as if encouraging the friendships of young actresses -was his dearest wish, and at the door put the coping stone on these -agreeable announcements: - -“And I’m going to give you my best director, Hugh Bassett. If with you -and him they don’t pull off a success the Maine public’s dumber than I -thought.” - -Later in the day he saw his director and told him of Miss Saunders’ -engagement. - -“Poor little thing,” he said. “She looks like one of those vegetables -they grow in the dark to keep ’em white. But it’ll be the saving of -her. Now you go ahead and get this started--three weeks rehearsal here -and one up there ought to do you. And keep me informed--if any of these -swell dames turn up asking questions, I want to know where I’m at.” - -Her business accomplished, Miss Saunders went home. She lived in one -of those mid-town blocks of old brownstone houses divided into flats. -The flats were of the variety known as “push button” and “walk up,” -but she pushed no button as she knew hers would be tenantless. Letting -herself in with a latchkey she ascended the two flights at a rapid run, -unlocked her door and entered upon the hot empty quietude of her own -domain. The blinds in the parlor were lowered as she had left them. -She pulled one up with a nervous jerk, threw her hat on a chair, and -falling upon the divan opened the paper that she had carried since she -left the Grand Central Station. - -The news of the day evidently had no interest for her. She folded -the pages back at the personal column and settled over it, bent, -motionless, her eyes traveling down its length. Suddenly they stopped, -focussed on a paragraph. She rose and with swift, tiptoe tread went -into the hall and tried the front door. Coming back she took a pad and -pencil from the desk, drew a small table up to the divan, spread the -newspaper on it, and copied the paragraph on to the pad. It ran as -follows: - - “Sister Carrie: - - Edmund stoney broke but Albert able to help him. Think we ought to - chip in. Can a date be arranged for discussing his affairs? - - Sam and Lewis.” - -She studied it for some time, the pencil suspended. Then it descended, -crossing out letter after letter, till three words remained--“Edmunton, -Alberta, Canada.” The signature she guessed as the name he went by. - -She burned the written paper, grinding it to powder in the ash-tray. -The newspaper she threw into the waste-basket where Luella, the mulatto -woman who “did up” for her, would find it in the morning. She felt -certain Luella was paid to watch her, that the woman had a pass-key to -the mail-box and every torn scrap of letter or note was foraged for -and handed on. But she had continued to keep the evil-eyed creature, -fearful that her dismissal would make them more than ever wary, -strengthen their suspicion that Sybil Saunders was in communication -with her lover. - -The deadly danger of it was cold at her heart as she lay back on the -divan and closed her eyes. Through her shut lids she saw the paragraph -with the words of the address standing out like the writing on the -wall. She had heard directly from him once, a letter the day after he -had fled; the only one that even he, reckless in his despair, had -dared to send. In that he had told her to watch the personal column in -a certain paper and had given her the names by which she could identify -the paragraphs. She had watched and twice found the veiled message and -twice waited in sickening fear for discovery. It had not happened. -Now he had grown bolder, telling her where he was--it was as if his -hand beckoned her to come. She could write to him at last, do it this -evening and take it out after dark. Lying very still, her hands clasped -behind her head, she ran over in her mind letter-boxes, post-offices -where she might mail it. Were the ones in crowded districts or those in -secluded byways, the safest? It was like walking through grasses where -live wires were hidden. - -A ring at the bell made her leap to her feet with wild visions of -detectives. But it was only Anne Tracy, come in to see if she was -back from her visit on the Sound. It was a comfort to see Anne, she -always acted as if things were just as they had been and never asked -disturbing questions. In the wilting heat she looked cool and fresh, -her dress of yellow linen, her straw hat encircled by a wreath of -nasturtiums had the dainty neatness that always marked Anne’s clothes -and Anne herself. She was pale-skinned and black-haired, satin-smooth -hair drawn back from her forehead and rolled up from the nape of her -neck in an ebony curve. Because her eyebrows slanted upward at the ends -and her eyes were long and liquid-dark and her nose had the slightest -retroussé tilt, people said she looked like a Helleu etching. And other -people, who were more old-fashioned and did not know what a Helleu -etching was, said she looked like a lady. - -She was Sybil’s best friend, was to have been her bridesmaid. But she -knew no more of Sybil’s secrets since Jim Dallas had disappeared than -any one else. And she never sought to know--that was why the friendship -held. - -They had a great deal to talk about, but chiefly the _Twelfth -Night_ affair. Anne was immensely pleased that Sybil had agreed to -play. She did not say this--she avoided any allusions to Sybil’s -recent conducting of her life--but her enthusiasm about it all was -irresistible. It warmed the sad-eyed girl into interest; the Viola -costume was brought from its cupboard, the golden wig tried on. When -Anne took her departure late in the day, after iced tea and layer cake -in the kitchenette, she felt much relieved about her friend--she was -“coming back,” coming alive again, and this performance off in the -country, far from her old associations, was just the way for her to -start. - -Anne occupied another little flat on another of the mid-town streets -in another of the brownstone houses. Hers was one room larger, for her -brother, Joe Tracy, lived with her when not pursuing his profession -on the road. There were hiatuses in Joe’s pursuit during which he -inhabited a small bedroom in the rear and caused Ann a great deal of -worry and expense. Joe apparently did not worry, certainly not about -the expense. Absence of work wore on his temper not because Anne had -to carry the flat alone, but because he had no spending money. - -They said it was his temper that stood in his way. Something did, for -he was an excellent actor with that power of transforming himself into -an empty receptacle to be filled by the character he portrayed. But -directors who had had experience of him, talked about his “natural -meanness” and shook their heads. When his name was mentioned it had -become the fashion to add a follow-up sentence: “Seems impossible the -same parents could have produced him and Anne.” People who tried to be -sympathetic with Anne about him got little satisfaction. All the most -persistent ever extracted was an admission that Joe was “difficult.” No -one--not even Sybil or Hugh Bassett--ever heard what she felt about the -fight he had had with another boy over a game of pool which had nearly -landed him in the Elmira Reformatory. Bassett had dragged him out of -that, and Bassett had found him work afterward, and Bassett had boosted -and helped and lectured him since. And not for love of Joe, for in his -heart Bassett thought him a pretty hopeless proposition. - -That evening, alone in her parlor, Anne was thinking about him. He had -no engagement and no expectation of one, and it was not wise to leave -him alone in the flat without occupation. “Satan” and “the idle hands” -was a proverb that came to your mind in connection with Joe. She went -to the window and leaned out. The air rose from the street, breathless -and dead, the heated exhalation of walls and pavements baked all day by -the merciless sun. Passers-by moved languidly with a sound of dragging -feet. At areaways red-faced women sat limp in loose clothing, and from -open windows came the crying of tired little children. To leave Joe to -this while she was basking in the delights of Gull Island--apart from -anything he might do--it wasn’t fair. And then suddenly the expression -of her face changed and she drew in from the window--Hugh Bassett was -coming down the street. - -The bell rang, she pushed the button and presently he was at the door -saying he was passing and thought he’d drop in for a minute. He was -a big thick-set man with a quiet reposeful quality unshaken even by -the heat. It was difficult to think of Bassett shaken by any exterior -accident of life, so suggestive was his whole make-up of a sustained -equilibrium, a balanced adjustment of mental and physical forces. He -had dropped in a great deal this summer and as the droppings-in became -more frequent Anne’s outside engagements became less. They always -simulated a mutual surprise, giving them time to get over that somewhat -breathless moment of meeting. - -They achieved it rather better than usual to-night for their minds were -full of the same subject. Bassett had come to impart the good news -about Sybil, and Anne had seen her and heard all about it. There was a -great deal of talking to be done that was impersonal and during which -one forgot to be self-conscious. Finally when they had threshed out all -the matters of first importance Bassett said: - -“Did you tell her that Walberg wanted Aleck Stokes for the Duke?” - -“No, I didn’t say a word about it. What was the use? It would only have -upset her and you’d put a stop to it.” - -“You can always be relied on, Anne, to do the tactful thing. Walberg -was set on it. Stokes can’t be beaten in that part and he’s at liberty. -But I wasn’t going to take any chances of her refusing, and if Stokes -was in the company I was afraid she might.” - -“I don’t know whether she’d have gone that far, but it would have -spoiled everything for her and for the rest of us too. It’s all plain -sailing now except for one thing”--she stopped and then in answer -to his questioning look--“about the police. If they have her under -surveillance, as people say, what’ll they do about it up there?” - -The big man shrugged: - -“Camp in the village on the mainland--they certainly can’t come on the -island. We’ve special instructions about it--no one but the company -to be allowed there till the performance. Did she speak to you about -that?” - -“No, she hardly ever alludes to the subject. But they _would_ keep a -watch on her, wouldn’t they?” - -He nodded, frowning a little at a complication new in his experience: - -“I should think so--a woman in her position. Men under sentence of -death have been unable to keep away from the girl they were in love -with. And then she may know where he is, be in communication with him.” - -“Oh, I don’t think that,” Anne breathed in alarm. “She’d never take -such a risk.” - -“Well, we’re her friends and we’re as much in the dark as anybody. I -only know one thing--if they try to hound her down on that island--the -first chance she’s had to recuperate and rest--I’ll--” - -A slight grating noise came from the hall. Anne held up a quick -cautioning hand. - -“Take care,” she murmured. “Here’s Joe.” - -Joe came in, his Panama hat low on his brow. He gave no sign of -greeting till he saw Bassett, then he emitted an abrupt “Hello” and -snatched off the hat: - -“Little Anne’s got a caller. Howdy, Bassett! How’s things?” - -There was a jovial note in his voice, a wide grin of greeting on his -face. It was evident the sight of Bassett pleased him, and he stood -teetering back and forth on his toes and heels, looking ingratiatingly -at the visitor. He was like Anne, the same delicate features, the same -long eyebrows and the same trick of raising them till they curved high -on his forehead. But his face had an elfish, almost malign quality -lacking in hers, and the brown eyes, brilliant and hard, were set too -close to his nose. He was two years younger than she--twenty-two--but -looked older, immeasurably older, in the baser worldly knowledge which -had already set its stamp upon him. - -He launched forth with a suggestion of pouncing eagerness on the -_Twelfth Night_ performance. He had heard this and that, and Anne had -told him the other. His interest surprised Anne, he hadn’t shown much -to her; only a few laconic questions. And she was wondering what was -in his mind, as she so often wondered when Joe held the floor, when a -question enlightened her: - -“Have you got anybody to play Sebastian yet?” - -“No. I wanted that boy who played with her on the southern tour last -year, but he’s in England. He gave a first-rate performance and he -_did_ look like her.” - -“That was a lucky chance. You’ll search the whole profession before you -get any one that looks like Sybil’s twin brother.” - -“He ought to bear some resemblance to her,” and Bassett quoted, “‘One -face, one voice, one habit, and two persons.’ I wonder if Shakespeare -had twins in his eye when he wrote the play.” - -“Not he! They did the same in his day as they do now--dressed ’em up -alike and let it go at that. Why, Mrs. Gawtrey, the English actress, -when she was over here, had a boy to play Sebastian who looked as much -like her--well, not as much as I look like Sybil.” - -Bassett had seen his object as Anne had and was considering. He had -been looking forward to the week at Gull Island with Anne, it loomed in -his imagination as a festival. There would be a pleasant, companionable -group of people, friendly, working well together. But Joe among them---- - -The boy, looking down at his feet, said slowly: - -“What’s the matter with letting me do it?” - -“Nothing’s the matter. I’ve no doubt you could, but you and she have -about as much resemblance as chalk and cheese.” - -Joe wheeled and gathering his coat neatly about his waist walked across -the room with a mincing imitation of Sybil’s gait. It was so well -done that Bassett could not contain his laughter. Encouraged, the boy -assumed a combative attitude, his face aflame with startled anger, -and striking out, at imaginary opponents, shouted: “‘Why there’s for -thee, and there and there and there. Are all the people mad?’” Then as -suddenly melted to a lover’s tone and looking ardently at Anne said: -“‘If it be thus to dream then let me sleep.’” - -“Oh, he _could_ play it,” she exclaimed, and Bassett weakened before -the pleading in her eyes. - -He understood how to manage Joe, he could keep him in order. The boy -was afraid of him anyway, and by this time knew that his future lay -pretty well in Bassett’s hands. If there was anything Anne wanted that -was within his gift there could be no question about its being hers. - -She was very sweet, murmuring her thanks as she went with him to the -door and assurances that Joe would acquit himself well. Bassett hardly -heard what she said, looking into her dark eyes, feeling the soft -farewell pressure of her hand. - -Joe had left the sitting-room when she went back there and she supposed -he had gone to bed. But presently he came in, his hat on again and said -he was going out. She was surprised, it was past eleven, but he swung -about looking for his cane, saying it was too hot to sleep. She tried -to detain him with remarks about the new work. He answered shortly -as was his wont with her, treating it as a small matter, nothing to -get excited about--also a familiar pose. But she noticed under his -nonchalance a repressed satisfaction, the glow of an inner elation in -his eyes. - - - - -I - - -THE performance was over and the audience was dispersing. Gull Island, -colored to a chromo brightness by the declining sun, had not showed so -animated an aspect since the reception for the Spanish ambassador last -July. People in pale-tinted summer clothes were trailing across from -the open-air theater and massing in a group as gay as a flower garden -at the dock. Some of them had gone into the house, taken the chance to -have a look at it--when the Driscolls were “in residence” you couldn’t -so much as put your foot on the rocks round the shore. Others lingered, -having a farewell word with the actors, congratulating them--it was the -right thing to do and they deserved it. The committee was very affable, -shaking hands with Mr. Bassett the director and Miss Saunders the star, -who, in her page’s dress with the paint still on her face, looked -tired, poor girl, but was so sweet and unassuming. - -It had been a complete success. The matrons who had organized it -scanned the crowd converging toward the dock and smiled the comfortable -smile of accomplishment. The summer home for tenement children could -build its new wing and employ that man from Boston who had such modern -scientific methods. And the matrons, stiff in the back and unbecomingly -flushed after sitting two hours in the sun on the stone seats of -the theater, drew toward one another on the wharf and agreed that -everything had gone off beautifully and the board should at once write -to Mr. Driscoll and thank him for lending the island. - -The fleet of boats, rocking gently on the narrow channel that separated -Gull Island from the mainland, took on their freight and darted off. -They started in groups then broke apart. Speed boats that had come from -points afar, whizzed away with a seething rush and a crumple of crystal -foam at the bow. The launches skimmed, light-winged, the white flurry -of their wakes like threads that stretched back to the island. - -People turned and looked at it--sun-gilded in an encircling girdle -of Prussian blue sea. The rocks about its base, the headlands that -rose above, were dyed to an orange red and against this brilliancy of -primary colors the pines stood out darkly silhouetted. On the rise -above the wharf the long brown structure of the house spread, rambling -and irregular, built, it was said, to suggest an outgrowth of the rocky -foundation. The watchers could see in the open place beyond the side -balcony the actors standing motionless, spaced in a group. Yes, having -their photographs taken; there was the camera man who’d been taking -pictures during the performance. And they craned their necks for a last -look at the lovely scene and the picturesque assemblage of players. - -Part of the flotilla carried the Hayworth villagers--all-year residents -of the little town on the mainland. Some of the more solid citizens -were in the launch that old Gabriel Harvey owned, which had been used -by the actors in their week’s stay. Hayworth had gathered a great deal -of information about these spectacular visitors, some from Gabriel and -some from Sara Pinkney who was Mr. Driscoll’s housekeeper, living in -Hayworth all winter and in summer reigning in the Gull Island kitchen. -Mr. Driscoll had wired Sara to go over and open up and take charge -while they were there--spare nothing, those were his orders. And Sara -had done it, not wanting to, but apart from its being Mr. Driscoll’s -wishes which she had followed for the last ten years, she had felt it -her duty to keep an eye on the property. Every day she came over to -Hayworth for supplies and had to appease the local curiosity, which she -did grudgingly, feeling her power. - -Now at last the Hayworth people had had a first-hand view of the -actors--the whole company, dressed up and performing--and they fitted -Sara Pinkney’s description to them. Olivia, that was Miss Tracy, -the one she said was so refined and pleasant-spoken. And the Duke -was Alexander Stokes. He was the feller that had come after the -others because the first man took sick--wonderful the way he did it -considering, didn’t miss a word. And the woman who stood round and -“tended on” Olivia was his wife. Sara hadn’t said much about her. Well, -she wasn’t of much importance anyhow or she’d have had more acting to -do. But that boy who was Viola’s twin, he was Miss Tracy’s brother, and -Sara had said he and Miss Saunders didn’t get on well, _she_ could see -it though they didn’t say much. And here piped up the butcher’s wife -who was more interested in the play than in personalities: - -“I don’t see how Olivia took him for the page she was in love with. He -didn’t look like Viola in the face. She was real pretty, but he’d a -queer sly mug on him, that boy.” - -“Aw, you can’t be too particular. You don’t need to have it so real.” - -“I guess she was meant to be blinded by love. And him dressed the same, -hair and all, might lead her astray.” - -“I don’t see how you could have ’em look just alike unless they’d get -an actress who had a real twin brother, and maybe you’d go the whole -country over and not find that.” - -“He ain’t like her no way,” growled old Gabriel from the wheel, “I seen -’em both when they wasn’t acting and he’s an ugly pup, that one.” - -Then the boat grating on the Hayworth wharf, Gabriel urged them off. He -hadn’t got through yet, got to go back for part of the company who were -calculating to get the main line at Spencer, and after that back again -for the Tracy boy. He muttered on as they climbed out, grumbling to -himself, which nobody noticed as it had been his mode of expression for -the last thirty years. - -The swaying throng of boats emptied their cargoes and the thick-pressed -crowd, moving to the end of the wharf, separated into streams and -groups. Farewells, last commending comments, rose on the limpid -sea-scented air. Everybody was a little tired. The villagers, dragging -their feet, passed along the board walks to their vine-draped piazzas. -They would find their kitchens hot and dull that night after two -hours in the enchanted land of Illyria. The waiting line of motors -absorbed the summer visitors, wheeled off and purred away past the -white cottages under the New England elms. The matrons sank gratefully -upon the yielding cushions, rolling by the dusty buggies, the battered -Fords, the lines of bicycle riders, into the quiet serene country -where the shadows were lying long and clear. Yes, it had been a great -success; from first to last there hadn’t been a hitch. - - - - -II - - -THAT was how the audience saw it, but they were outsiders. There was -one outsider left on the island, Wally Shine, the photographer sent -by the Universal Syndicate to take pictures of what was a “notable -society event” in a place of which the public had heard much and seen -nothing. He had arrived that morning with two cameras and a delighted -appreciation of the beauty he was to record. But, unlike the other -outsiders, his impressions extending over a longer period had not been -so agreeable. He had seen the actors at close range, in their habits as -they lived, lunched with them, watched the last rehearsal, taken a lot -of pictures of Miss Saunders in the house and garden. And he had sensed -an electric disturbance in the atmosphere, and come upon evidences of -internal discord. - -That was at the last rehearsal, when the poetic Viola had lost her -temper like an ordinary woman and jumped on the Tracy boy--something -about the place he stood in--nothing, as far as Shine could see, to get -mad about. And the boy had answered in kind like the spitting of an -angry cat. An ugly scene that the director had to stop. - -Then the man Stokes who played the Duke, a handsome, romantic-looking -chap--something was the matter with him. “Eating him” was the phrase -Shine used to himself and it wasn’t a bad one. He had a haunted sort -of look, as if his mind was disturbed, especially when he’d turn his -eyes on Miss Saunders. Shine had noticed him particularly when they -gathered for the group pictures; his hands were unsteady and the -perspiration was out on his forehead though the air was cool from the -sea. His wife--the woman they called Flora--was on to him. Shine saw -her watching him, sidelong from under her eyelids, the way you watch a -person when you don’t want them to see it. - -The photographer was a fat easy-going man, inured to the vagaries of -those who follow the arts. But he was sensitive to emotional stress and -he felt it here--below the surface--and was moved to curiosity. - -The photographs were finished and the group broke up. Part of the -company were going and they ran toward the house--a medieval route--the -big Sir Toby with a rolling amble, Sir Andrew, long and lank, cavorting -like a mettlesome steed. Their antic shadows fled before them over the -dried sea grass, and their voices, shouting absurdities, rang rich and -deep-throated on the crystal atmosphere. - -Miss Saunders and Miss Tracy linked arms and moved off toward the -headlands. Receding in the amber light they were like a picture from -some antique romance--the noble lady and her page. One in narrow -casings of crimson brocade, the other in short swinging kilt and -braided jacket of more sober gray. Shine, fascinated, watched them -pacing slowly over the burnished grass. Flocks of sea-gulls, roused by -their voices, rose into the air, poised and wheeled, one moment dark, -the next floating shapes of gold. He turned to go and saw that Stokes -was watching them too, intent like a hungry dog, the hand that held a -stalk of feathered grass against his lips, trembling. - -The photographer shouldered his camera and went toward the house. A -jeweled brightness of garden extended along its seaward front. Beyond -this was the one stretch of cultivated turf on the island, an emerald -slope leading to the cuplike hollow that held the amphitheater. He -skirted the side balcony, the wide-flung doors giving a glimpse of -an entrance hall, and turning the corner emerged upon the land front -of the long capacious building. The surroundings on this side had -been left as nature made them--rock shelves and ledges, devoid of -vegetation, a path winding round them from the entrance to the wharf. -Hayworth showed across the channel in a clustering of gray roofs from -which smoke skeins rose straight into the suave rose-washed sky. The -water rushed between, a swollen tide, threads of white dimpled eddies, -telling of its racing speed. - -The door on this side of the house opened directly into the -living-room. No hall within or porch without interfered with the view; -the path ended unceremoniously at the foot of two broad steps that -led to the threshold. On the lower of these steps Shine found a lady -sitting smoking a cigarette. This was the Maria of the cast, Mrs. -Cornell in private life. She was still in her costume, her redundant -figure swelling over the traditional laced bodice, the rouge on her -cheeks hardly showing against the coat of sunburn a week at Gull Island -had laid on. He had found her as easy as himself, good-humoredly -loquacious and not involved in the prevailing discord. An admirable -person to clear up mysteries. He sank down beside her on the step and -took the cigarette box she flipped toward him. - -“Wouldn’t you think,” she said, “a man as rich as this Mr. Driscoll -would fix up round here better?” - -Shine, who had artistic responses, had long learned not to intrude them -on the uninitiated. - -“I guess he liked it wild,” he suggested, and lit a cigarette. - -“But it looks so rough, not a flower bed or a vase--just paths. That -one there,” she pointed to a path that skirted the side of the house -and dipped to a small grove of pines below, “goes through those -pines and up to that summer-house. Nothing on the way and what’s the -summer-house when you get there? Old style rustic work with vines. -You’d suppose he’d build a temple and have some marble benches round. -The way the rich spend their money always gets me.” - -Shine had been in the grove of pines, a growth of stunted trees filling -in a hollow. He had followed the path through it, up the slope to the -summer-house and beyond to where the bluff dropped away in a sheer -cliff to the channel. They called the place “The Point” as it projected -beyond the shore line in a rocky outthrust shoulder, gulls circling -about it, water seething below. He looked there now, let his glance -slip along the curve of headlands till it reached the two girls, -perched on a boulder like a pair of bright-plumaged birds. He was -thinking how to approach the matter in his mind, when Mrs. Cornell went -on: - -“I don’t see what any one wanted to build a house here for--cut off -this way. It’s too lonesome. With the tide at the full as it is now -you can’t get ashore without a motor-boat. You know that current’s -something fierce.” - -He looked down at it, its rushing corded surface purple dark: - -“Looks to be some current.” - -“It would carry you out and ‘Good night’ to you. Gabriel who runs the -launch told me. Set’s right out to sea someway. And the rise and fall -to it--I couldn’t tell you how many feet it is, but you’ll see for -yourself to-night if you’re awake--all the channel bare, nothing but -rocks and mud. And across the middle of it to Hayworth, a causeway. -That’s the only way you can get ashore at _low_ tide. High or low -you’re pretty well marooned. It’s seclusion all right if that’s what -you’re after.” - -Shine was after information and with the talk running on tides and -causeways he saw no chance of getting it. So he tried to divert the -garrulous lady: - -“That’s Miss Saunders and Miss Tracy out there looking at the sunset.” - -Mrs. Cornell answered with emphasis: - -“Yes, _they’re_ friends.” - -“Aren’t you all?” - -“Some of us knew each other before we came here,” was her cryptic -reply. Then she added pensively: “Six months ago you’d never have found -Sybil Saunders looking at a sunset. She was the _brightest_ thing!” - -“Awful misfortune that what happened to her.” - -She gave a derisive sound at the inadequacy of the word: - -“Hah--awful! Took the heart right out of her. If you ever saw a girl in -love it was she--bound up in him. Everything ready, the wedding day -set, the trousseau made.” Tears rose in her eyes and she dove into her -tight bodice for a handkerchief. “Never to be worn, Mr. Shine--that’s -life.” - -Shine gave forth sympathetic murmurs and Mrs. Cornell, dabbing at her -eyes, furnished data between the dabs: - -“Two men drinking too much and then a fight, and before anybody knew, -murder! If there hadn’t been a brass candlestick near Jim Dallas’ hand -it would never have happened. Honest to God, Mr. Shine, there was -nothing evil in that young man. But the Parkinson family are camped on -his trail. The evil’s in them, if you ask me, with their rewards and -detectives.” - -“I wonder if she knows where he is.” - -“I guess there’s more than one wondering that,” the lady murmured. - -“Terribly hard position for her if she does know--or if she doesn’t.” - -Shine looked at the page’s figure on the rock. She carried the thing -stamped on her face. He had noticed it particularly where he had taken -the photographs of her in the living-room. They were time exposures -with his small camera, attempts to catch her fragile prettiness in -artistic combinations of light and shade. Once or twice the mask had -been dropped and he had seen the drooping lines, the weariness, and -something like fear on the delicate features. - -For a space they smoked in silence. Round the corner of the house the -tall figure of Stokes strolled into view. He looked at the seated -girls, then turned and glanced behind him with a quick and furtive -sweep of the eyes. At the sight of them he nodded, walked down to the -wharf and dropped on a bench. - -Shine lowered his voice: - -“What’s the matter with him?” - -Mrs. Cornell met his eyes; her own were narrowed and sharp. - -“What makes you think anything is?” - -“His whole make-up--something’s wearing on him.” - -She blew out a long shoot of smoke and, watching it, murmured: - -“Yes, it’s out on him like a rash. He oughtn’t to have come, but the -first man they had, Sylvanus Grey, took sick and Mr. Walberg engaged -Stokes in a hurry and sent him up. It’s spoiled everything for the rest -of us. He’s crazy about Sybil if you want to know what’s the matter -with him.” - -“Oh!” It came with an understanding inflection, the haggard glances -rising on Shine’s memory. - -“Can’t hide it, doesn’t want to hide it. There’s no shame in him, -tracking after the girl. And it’s not as if he got any encouragement. -She can’t bear him; that’s why she has Anne Tracy out there, afraid if -she sits alone five minutes he’ll come loping up. You’d think if he -didn’t have any pride he’d have some feeling for his wife. She’s half -crazy with jealousy, burning up with it. These purple passions are all -right in books, Mr. Shine, but believe me they’re not comfortable to -live with.” - -“I felt it.” - -“I guess you would, it’s in the air. All of us cooped up in this place -where you can’t get off. I thought it was going to be such a nice -restful change. But lord! It’s about as restful as camping on the side -of Vesuvius. Sybil and Joe Tracy ready to fight at the drop of the hat -and Flora going round in circles and Stokes like one of those fireworks -that starts sputtering and you don’t know whether they’re going to -explode or die on you. I tell you I’ll be glad when we get out of here -to-morrow morning.” - -There was a footfall in the room behind them and Mrs. Cornell turned to -see who was coming. - -“Oh, Flora,” she said. “Come out and take a look at the sunset. It’s -something grand.” - -The woman stepped out and stood beside them. She had changed her -costume and her narrow blue linen dress outlined her too slender -figure. Shine thought she would have been pretty if she had not looked -so worn and thin. He noticed the brightness of her dark eyes, brilliant -and quick-moving as a bird’s. There was red on her cheek-bones, a -flushed patch that was not rouge. Mrs. Cornell’s expression recurred to -him, “burning up”--the meager body, the hot high color, the dry lips -resolutely smiling, suggested inner fires. - -“Yes,” she answered, “it’s a wonderful evening.” - -“Take a cig.” Mrs. Cornell offered the box. - -“Sit down, there’s plenty of room.” Shine moved up. - -“No, I can’t sit down. There’s something about the air that makes you -restless--too stimulating maybe.” She raised her voice and called to -her husband, “Aleck, aren’t you coming in to change your clothes?” - -Without moving the man called back: - -“Not yet. There’s no hurry.” - -She turned to Shine with a little condoning air of wifely tolerance: - -“Mr. Stokes has been shut up so long in town he can’t get enough of the -fresh air.” - -“He’s enjoying the scenery, too,” Shine answered, and saw her eyes -travel to the two figures on the rock. - -“Oh, that of course--that’s the best part of it.” Then in a tone of -bright discovery: “Why look where Anne and Sybil are! Have they been -there long?” - -“Ever since I’ve been here.” Mrs. Cornell’s voice was more than -soothing, bluffly reassuring as the voice of one who tells a child -there is no ghost. “And ever since Mr. Shine got through the pictures! -Wallowing in the beauties of nature like the rest of us.” - -“Won’t you wallow, too?” Shine indicated the long unoccupied space on -the step. - -She shook her head: - -“I like moving about. Something in this place gets on my nerves, it’s -like being in a jail.” On a deep breath she shot out, “I hate it,” and -stepped back into the room. - -“Going?” Mrs. Cornell veered round to follow her retreating figure. - -“Yes. I enjoy the scenery better when it hasn’t got people in it.” - -They looked at each other; a still minute of eye communication. - -“She’s all worked up,” he murmured. - -Her answer was to point to the two girls and then to Stokes: - -“Now she’ll keep her eye on them from somewhere else--probably the side -piazza. That’s the way you are when you’re jealous--the sight of it -kills you and you can’t stop watching.” - -“Lord!” whispered Shine into whose life no such gnawing passions had -entered. And he thought of the girl in the page’s dress who was afraid -to sit alone, and the man on the wharf brooding within sight of her, -and the woman who was hovering round them like a helpless distracted -bird. - - - - -III - - -THE launch was on its way back for those of the actors who were -leaving. Gabriel, squatting by the engine, calculated the distribution -of his time. After he’d taken them across he’d have his supper and -then go back for Joe Tracy, who was leaving on the seven fifteen for -his vacation. When Joe was disposed of, Gabriel was to meet two Boston -sports who had engaged him for a week’s deep-sea fishing at White -Beach, twenty-five miles down the coast. It was a strenuous program for -the old man and he grumbled to himself about it, the grumbling gaining -zest by anticipations that some of them would be late. If it was any of -the actors, by gum, he wouldn’t wait for them, with the sports ready -to take him along in their car at seven. By the time he drew near the -island he had grumbled himself into a state of irascible defiance -against any one who would dare upset his plans. - -To warn them of his coming he sounded the whistle and its shrill -toot acted like a magic summons. A group of men, bearing suit-cases -and bags, emerged from the entrance and ran down the path, Bassett -following. Miss Pinkney’s helper, a native of Hayworth, hurried from -the kitchen wing, a suit-case in her hand, and even the august Sara -herself appeared in the doorway of her domain. - -Gabriel quieted down--they were all ready and waiting--and then saw Joe -Tracy come round the corner of the house in his Sebastian dress. The -old man muttered profanely--why wasn’t the d----d cub getting ready? -And as the boat made its landing, he called out: - -“Say, you’d better be gettin’ them togs off. I’ll be back here for you -at a quarter to seven.” - -The boy, leaping lightly from rock to rock, grinned without answering. -The picturesque dress suited him, he looked almost handsome, and with -the feathered cap on his golden wig set rakishly aslant, he moved -downward with a taunting debonair swagger. Gabriel didn’t like him -anyway and now his impudent face, framed by the drooping blond curls, -looked to the launch man malignantly spiteful. - -Gabriel could say no more then for the confusion of good-bys possessed -the wharf. The actors shouted them out even to Miss Pinkney, flattering -assurances of their inability to forget her and her cooking. She waved -a condescending hand and permitted herself a smile, for she was very -glad to get rid of them. - -But Gabriel wasn’t going to go till he’d made things clear. He appealed -to Bassett whom he had privately sized up as the only one of the outfit -who was like the rational human males of his experience. Besides he had -seen that Joe Tracy respected, if not feared, the director: - -“I’ll be back here at quarter to seven for the Tracy boy, and I’m -tellin’ him he’s got to be ready. I can’t waste no time settin’ round -waitin’ and if he’s not here on the dot--” - -“That’s all right,” Bassett put a comforting hand on his shoulder and -turned to Joe. “You heard that, Joe?” - -The boy answered with his sneering grin: - -“What’s got the old geezer? Does he think I’m as deaf as he is?” - -Gabriel’s weather-beaten visage reddened. He was not in the habit of -being called an “old geezer” and he was not deaf. But the actors, all -in the boat, were clamoring to start. They had a train to make--get in -ancient servitor, and turn on the current. Miss Pinkney’s helper, with -her hat on one side and her face crimson, giggled hysterically, and in -a chorus of farewells the boat chugged off. - -The three men left on the wharf went up the path to the doorway where -Shine and Mrs. Cornell had resumed their seats. Shine was struck by -their difference of type,--if you went the world over you couldn’t -find three more varied specimens. The only one he liked was Bassett, -something square and solid about him and a good straight look in his -eyes. The kind of chap, Shine thought, you’d ask directions of in the -street and who’d give ’em to you no matter what hurry he was in. And -he’d a lot of authority--the way he managed this wild-eyed bunch showed -that. Shine had noticed, too, a sort of exuberant quality of good will -about him--like a light within shining out--and set it down to relief -at having got through without any one blowing the lid off. - -They stopped at the steps and Joe Tracy made his good-bys. He was going -camping in the woods with his friend Jimmy Travers, who was to meet -him at Bangor to-night. They’d stay there twenty-four hours getting -their stuff together, then be off for the northern solitudes--no beaten -tracks for them. He left, jauntily swinging his kilted skirts, a -whistled tune on his lips. Soon after, Stokes departed, saying he was -going to change his clothes. His air was nonchalant, lounging up the -steps and crossing the living-room with a lazy padding stride. - -A door to the right opened into the entrance hall. Here he and his -wife occupied a ground-floor room. It was on the garden front of the -house opposite the stairway that led to the second story. He listened -at the panel before he entered, then softly turned the knob, and, -inside, as softly closed the door. Shut in and alone his languid pose -fell from him like a cloak. An avid eagerness sharpened his features -and directed his hands, pulling open his valise and taking from it -a small leather case. Moving back from the window he pushed up his -sleeve, took the hypodermic from the case and pressed in the needle. -When he had restored the bag to its place, he threw himself on the bed -and lay with closed eyes feeling the ineffable comfort, grateful as an -influx of life, vitalize and soothe his tortured being. - -Mrs. Cornell and Shine rose up and followed him. Mrs. Cornell had her -packing to get through and wanted Miss Pinkney’s help. Shine was going -to see if the pantry would do for a dark room, intending to take some -flashlight photographs of the company that evening. He had found in -a cabinet all the flashlight requisites and thought it would be an -interesting memento of their visit--each of them to have a picture. - -“They’ve got everything here,” he said as he pointed to the corner -where he had made his find. “Not alone all the supplies, but two -first-class cameras and a projector. I suppose some of the family took -it up for a fad.” - -Mrs. Cornell opined it was to occupy the young men. There were several -Driscoll boys and if you didn’t give them something to do they’d get -into mischief. Though, if you asked her, she didn’t see any chances for -mischief in _this_ jumping-off place, unless the high tide washed in a -few mermaids. - -Then they passed on through the left doorway, into the side wing of -the house. Here Shine, who was domiciled in the butler’s bedroom, -disappeared into the adjoining pantry and Mrs. Cornell trod resolutely -on into the kitchen, being one of the few members of the company who -was not afraid of the housekeeper. - -Miss Pinkney, who was sitting upright in a stiff-backed chair, -rose respectfully. She was a lean slab-sided woman of fifty, with -tight-drawn hair and a long horse face. She had disapproved bitterly of -the intrusion of the actors upon the sacred precincts of Gull Island -and though she had been rigidly polite hoped that her disapproval had -got across. Anyway, she had had the satisfaction of putting cotton -sheets on their beds and serving their meals on the kitchen china. If -they did any damage to the house or premises she was ready to assert -her authority, and she had been on the watch. But they had been careful -and orderly and treated her with the proper deference, and in her heart -the revolutionary thought had arisen that they were equally considerate -and more amusing than the usual run of Gull Island guests. Also they -gave her a subject of conversation that would last out the winter. - -Mrs. Cornell broached her request and Miss Pinkney agreed. She was even -very pleasant about it, showing a brisk friendly alacrity--with the -helper gone there’d only be a cold supper and she could dish that up -in two shakes. Together they left the kitchen and on the stairs Mrs. -Cornell hooked her plump arm inside Miss Pinkney’s bony one and said -when Mr. Shine took the flashlights that night he must take one of them -as the “feeder” and the other as the “fed.” - - - - -IV - - -BASSETT had gone into the house too. As he crossed the living-room he -noticed its deserted quietude, in contrast to the noise and bustle that -had possessed it an hour ago. - -It was a rich friendly room, comfortably homelike in spite of its size, -for it crossed the center of the house, its rear door opening on the -garden as the one opposite did on the path. It was spacious in height -as well as width, its walls rising two stories. Midway up a gallery -ran, on three sides of which the bedrooms opened. The fourth side, on -the seaward front, was flanked by a line of windows, great squares of -unsullied glass that looked over the garden and the amphitheater to -the uplands and the open ocean. There were tables here, raking wicker -chairs, and low settees with brilliant cushions, books lying about and -smokers’ materials. In the room below the character of a hunting lodge -had been suggested by mounted deer heads, Indian blankets, baskets of -cunning weave and animal skins on the floor. But it was an idealized -hunting lodge, with seats in which the body sank luxuriously, and -softly shaded lights. Round the deep-mouthed chimney the scent of wood -fires lingered, the fires of birch logs that leaped there when Gull -Island lay under storm and mist. The architect had not diminished the -effect of size and unencumbered space by stairs. The second story was -reached by two flights, one in the entrance hall, one in the kitchen -wing. - -Bassett opened the door into the hall where again all was quiet, none -of the jarring accents that occasionally rose from the Stokes’ room. -He walked across the gleaming parquette to the library which he had -used for his office. There were no signs of the hunting lodge here--a -scholarly retreat, book-lined, with leather armchairs and lights -arranged for readers’ eyes, a place for delightful hours if one had -time to drowse and poke about on the shelves. Two long French windows -framed a view of the channel and Hayworth dreaming among its elms. He -went to one of the windows and looked out. The girls were still sitting -there, and, as he looked at them, an expression of infinite tenderness -lay like a light on his face. It was the light Shine had noticed, -allowed to break through clearly now that no one was there to see. - -He sat down at the desk; there were letters for him to answer, addenda -of the performance to check up. He moved the papers, looked at them, -pushed them away, and, resting his forehead on his hands, relinquished -himself to a deep pervading happiness. Yesterday Anne had promised to -marry him. - -His mind, held all day to his work, now flew to her--memories of her -face with the down-bent lids as he had asked her, and the look in her -eyes as they met his. Brave beautiful eyes with her soul in them. It -had been no light acceptance for her, it meant the surrendering of her -whole being, her life given over to him. He heard her voice again, and -his face sank into his hands, his heart trembling in the passion of its -dedication to her service. Anne, whom he had coveted and yearned for -and thought so far beyond his reach--his! He would be worthy of her, -and he would take such care of her, gird her round with his two arms, a -buckler against every ill that life might bring. She’d had such a hard -time of it, struggling up by herself with Joe hung round her neck like -a millstone. - -At the memory of Joe he came to earth with a jarring impact. He dropped -his hands and stared at the papers, his brows bent in harassed thought. -Joe had broken the charm, obstructed the way to the paradise of dreams -like the angel with the flaming sword--though angel was not exactly the -word. Bassett had heard something that morning from Sybil which must -be looked into--something he could hardly believe. But Joe being what -he was you never could tell. It had been a mistake to bring him, with -Sybil a bunch of nerves and Stokes shunted unexpectedly into their -midst. And now he felt responsible, he’d have it out with Joe before he -left. One more disagreeable scene before they separated to-morrow, and -Bassett, like Mrs. Cornell, felt he’d thank Providence when they were -all on the train in the morning. Meantime he’d go over his papers while -he waited for the boy who had gone to his room to dress. The door was -open and he could hear him as he came down the stairs. - -Anne was approaching the house, a slender crimson figure, her hair -in the sunset light shining like black lacquer. She was smiling to -herself--everything was so beautiful, not only Gull Island and this -hour of tranquil glory, but the mere fact of existing. Then she saw -Flora Stokes sitting on the balcony and realized that in this golden -world there were people to whom life was a dark and troublous affair. -She wanted to comfort Flora, let some of the happiness in her own heart -spill over into that burdened one. But she knew no way of doing it, -could only smile at the haggard face the woman lifted from her book. - -“Oh, Mrs. Stokes, reading,” she cried as she ran up the steps. “How -can you read on such an evening as this?” - -Flora Stokes said she had been walking about till she was tired, and -then glanced at the distant rock: - -“You’ve left Sybil out there.” - -There was no comfort or consolation that could penetrate Mrs. Stokes’ -obsession. Anne could only reassure: - -“She’s coming in soon. She just wanted to see the end of the sunset.” - -She passed into the hall, sorry--oh, so sorry! But the library door -was open and she halted, poised birdlike for one glance. The man at -the desk had his back to her and she said nothing, yet he turned, gave -a smothered sound and jumped up. She shut her eyes as she felt his -arms go about her and his kisses on her hair, her senses blurred in a -strange ineffably sweet confusion of timidity and delight. - -“Oh, Anne,” she heard his voice between the kisses. “I was waiting for -you.” - -“Some one will see us,” she whispered. “Take care.” - -She could feel the beating of his heart through his coat. Her hands -went up to his shoulders feeling along the rough tweed and with her -lids down-drooped she lifted her face. - -“Darling,” he breathed, when the kiss was over, “I thought you were -never coming.” - -“I had to stay with Sybil. She didn’t want to be alone.” - -“But _you_ wanted to be here?” - -“Just _here_,” she laid a finger on his breast and broke into -smothered, breathless laughter. - -He laughed too and they drew apart, their hands sliding together and -interlocking. It was all so new, so bewilderingly entrancing, that they -did not know how to express it, the man staring wonder-struck, the -girl, with her quivering laughter that was close to tears, looking this -way and that, not knowing where to look. - -“I ought to go,” she whispered. “They’ll be coming,” but made no move. - -“Wait till they do.” Then with a sudden practical facing of realities, -“When will we be married?” - -“Oh, not for ages! I’m not used to being engaged yet!” - -“I am--I never was before but I must have had a talent for it, I’ve -taken to it so well.” - -“Oh, Hugh!” Her laughter came more naturally, his with it. They were -like a pair of children, delighting in a little secret. “Won’t they be -surprised when they hear? Nobody has a suspicion of it.” - -She looked so enchanting with her eyebrows arched in mischievous query -that he made a movement to clasp her again, and then came the creak of -an opening door from the floor above. - -“Hist!” she held up a warning hand and slid away, her face, glancing -back for a last look, beautiful in its radiant joy. - -Bassett moved to the stair-foot. Once again he had to come down to -earth with a bump. He passed his hand over his face as if to wipe off -an expression incompatible with disagreeable interviews. This must be -Joe. - -It _was_ Joe, dressed for travel in knickerbockers and a Norfolk -jacket, a golf cap on the back of his head. He carried an overcoat -across his arm, in his hands a suit-case and a fishing-rod done up in -a canvas case. At the sight of Bassett he halted, and the elder man -noticed a change in his expression, a quick focusing to attention. - -“Oh,” he said. “Want to see me, Bassett?” - -“Yes, I want to speak to you before you go.” - -Joe descended. Stopping a step above Bassett, he set down his baggage -and leaned on the banister, politely waiting. - -Bassett spoke with lowered voice: - -“I heard something this morning that I can hardly believe--an -accusation against you. That you’ve been using your position here to -act as one of the police spies who’ve been keeping tab on Sybil.” - -The boy looked at him with impenetrable eyes and answered in the same -lowered key: - -“Who told you that?” - -“She did. She accuses you of having come here with that intention, got -the job knowing that no outsiders were to be allowed on the island.” - -Bassett was certain he had paled under his tan, but his face retained a -masklike passivity. - -“Sounds as if she might be losing her mind.” - -“You deny it?” - -The boy gave a scornful shrug: - -“Of course I deny it. I shouldn’t think it would be necessary to ask -that. She’s had a down on me for some time--everybody’s seen it, -snapping and snarling at me for nothing--and I suppose she wants to get -an excuse for it.” - -“She says she came upon you examining a letter of hers, holding it up -to the light. And three days ago she found you in her room looking over -the papers in her desk.” - -“Ah!” he made a gesture of angry contempt. “It would make a person -sick--examining her letters! I was looking through the mail bag to see -if there was anything for me. If I took up one of hers by mistake does -that prove I was examining it?” - -“How about the other thing?” - -“Being in her room? Yes, I was there. I went in to get a stamp. I had -an important letter to go when Gabriel took over the mail and it was -time for him. All the rest of you were out. Her room was next to mine -and I went in. I never thought anything about it, no more than I would -have thought about going into Anne’s or yours or anybody else’s. She’s -nutty, I tell you. You can’t trust her word. And if she says I’m hired -to spy on her she’s a damned----” - -He stopped. Basset’s eye was steady on him in a cold command he knew. -There was the same cold quality in the director’s voice: - -“If the position Sybil’s in has made her suspicious, that’s all right. -I’d like to believe it was the case. But if any of us--supposedly -her friends--had inserted themselves in here to carry on police -surveillance, using _me_ to get them in--well, I’d not think _that_ all -right.” - -Joe leaned over the banister. His control was shaken, his voice -hoarsely urgent: - -“You got to be fair, Bassett, and because you’re sorry for her is no -reason to set her word over mine. It’s _not_ true. Don’t you believe -me?” - -Bassett did not answer for a moment. He wanted to believe and he -doubted; he thought of Joe’s desire to come, of the reward: - -“I guess you know, Joe, you can trust me to be fair, but I’m not going -to commit myself till I know. It won’t be hard to do that. I can find -out when I get back to New York. And take this from me--if what Sybil -says is true I’m done with you. No more help from me, no more work in -any company I manage. And I fancy the whole theatrical profession will -feel the same way.” He drew back from the stair-foot. The disagreeable -interview was over. “There’s no good talking any more about it. -Accusations and denials don’t get us anywhere. We’ll let it rest till -I’ve made my inquiries. I’ll say good-by now and hope you’ll have a -good time in the woods.” - -He turned and walked up the hall to his room on the garden front next -the Stokes’. Joe gathered his luggage and went the opposite way, down -the hall and into the big central apartment. He stepped with gingerly -softness as if he were creeping away from something he feared might -follow him. At the entrance door he set down his luggage and as he bent -over it a whispered stream of curses flowed from his lips. He cursed -Bassett and his luck, but Sybil with a savage variety of epithet and -choice of misfortune, for she had undone him. Straightening up he -looked blankly about--his inner turmoil was such he hardly knew where -he was--and he retraced his steps, seeking the seclusion of his room, -went up the stairs in noiseless vaulting strides like a frightened -spider climbing to its web. - - - - -V - - -ANNE had taken off her costume and slipped into a negligée to do her -packing comfortably, and then decided she had better bid good-by to -Joe first. Bidding good-by was not an obligation between them, but -she had to get the key of his trunk--it was going back to New York -with hers--and her heart in its new warmth yearned to him, her only -relation. She wanted to tell him her great secret, see an answering -joy leap into his face, for he thought more of Bassett than anybody, -and he’d be so surprised to hear that Anne, her charms held at a low -valuation, had won such a prize. - -Her room was the first on the left side of the gallery, Joe’s next to -Sybil’s on the land front of the house. She passed the long line of -closed doors, voices coming from behind Mrs. Cornell’s, and reaching -Joe’s, knocked. A “Come in,” uninvitingly loud and harsh, answered her -and she entered. Joe was sitting in a low armchair, bent forward, his -hands holding a cane with which he was tapping on the floor. The bright -square of the window was behind him, framing rosy sky and the green -shore-line. He looked up to see who it was; then, without greeting or -comment, drooped his head and went on lightly striking the cane on -the carpet as if he were hammering in a nail and it required all his -attention. Anne felt dashed, his manner might have been the same to -an intruding stranger. She asked about the key, and he nodded to the -bureau where it lay. The trunk was packed and locked? To that he gave -an assenting grunt, then raised his head and looked at her--what have -you come here for, the look said. - -It was not a reception to encourage confidences and she stood -uncomfortably regarding him, trying to find something to say that would -dispel his somber ill humor. - -“You’re all ready? Where’s your luggage?” - -“Down by the door. Is there anything else you want to know?” - -“_I_ don’t want to know, I was thinking of you. You’re always late, and -it’s different here with only one way to get ashore and Gabriel never -willing to wait.” - -He made no answer, continuing his play with the cane. She knew that -something was wrong and sat down on the arm of a chair, uneasy, -wondering what it was: - -“I’m glad you’ve managed this holiday. And it’s so jolly having Jimmy -Travers, he’s such a sport. You’ll meet him to-night at Bangor. At the -Algonquin Inn--wasn’t that the name of it?” - -“Um.” - -“I want to be sure because if any important mail should come for you I -could send it there to meet you on your way back. Algonquin Inn--I’ll -remember that. Then off to-morrow morning--it’ll be lovely in the woods -now.” - -“Any place would be lovely after this beastly hole.” - -“Beastly hole! I thought you liked it!” - -“Did you? Take another guess.” - -“You expected to like it. You wanted to come.” - -He made no answer, but slanting his body sidewise with an air of -ostentatious endurance, took out his watch and looked at it. She -ignored the hint--you couldn’t be sensitive with Joe--and leaning -toward him asked: - -“What’s the matter, Joe?” - -“Matter--with what?” - -“You! Has anything happened?” - -“Oh, no, nothing’s happened.” His words were mincingly soft. “What -_could_ happen with such a charming lot of people and Miss Saunders -playing the star rôle in the performance and out.” - -It was Sybil then--he’d been working himself into a bad temper over -her treatment of him. Anne had thought it odd he had not mentioned it -before: - -“You’re angry with Sybil, and I don’t think she has been very nice -to you. I’ve noticed it, especially the last three days and this -afternoon when we were sitting out there on the rock I tried to make -her tell me why.” - -He raised his head; the profile sharply defined against the window -showed a working muscle in the cheek: “And did she tell you?” - -“No, she didn’t seem to want to talk about it. She changed the subject.” - -“How considerate!” - -“There’s no sense getting annoyed about it because I don’t think she -has any reason. You have to make excuses for her. She’s gone through -this awful experience and her nerves are all wracked to pieces. You -have to be patient and take her as a sort of afflicted person--” - -He dashed the cane down and jumped to his feet in a volcanic explosion -of rage: - -“I don’t take her that way. I take her for what she is, a damned lying -hypocrite.” - -“Joe!” She was amazed, not so much at the words, as at the suddenness -of the outburst and the contorted passion of his face. - -“She thinks she can treat me any way she wants and get away with it. -Well, she’ll find her mistake, she’s taken the wrong turning this time. -She takes me for a yellow dog she can kick whenever she feels like it. -But I got teeth, I can bite. Patient--be patient--God, I’d like to -wring her neck, the damned----.” - -He used an epithet that brought Anne to her feet, breathing battle: -“Don’t dare to say that of my friend, Joe Tracy.” - -He stood in front of her, hump-shouldered, with outthrust jaw, brows -drawn low over eyes gleaming like a cat’s. She had never seen him look -like that; he seemed a stranger, a horrible stranger, and she drew -away, aghast at the revelation of a being so sinisterly unfamiliar. -Her look brought him back to self-control. He jerked his head up, ran -a hand over his hair, and turned away to the window. Standing there he -said: - -“Well, I take that back. I didn’t mean to say it. But she’s made me -mad; I think she’d make anybody.” - -The tone, surly still, had a placating quality; it was as near an -apology as Joe could ever come. She felt immeasurably relieved for -he had frightened her. To see the family cat, whose vagaries of -temperament she knew by heart, suddenly transformed into a tiger, had -given her a shock. She accepted his amends without comment, but she -could not resist a sisterly admonition: - -“If you’d only stop getting mad over small things you’d find life so -much easier.” - -He laughed: - -“Good advice from little sister! It doesn’t cost anything and it’s the -correct _ingenue_ pose.” - -He turned from the window smiling, Joe at his most amiable. If he -had met her this way she would have poured out her secret. But her -high mood had fallen and besides he wanted her to go--he said he had -a letter to write yet. Lounging toward her he put his hands on her -shoulders, gave her a light kiss on the cheek and pushed her toward the -door. - -On her way back along the gallery she recalled his face in that -moment of rage with troubled question. She wondered if there was more -disturbing him than she knew--it was an extraordinary exhibition of -anger for such a cause. Also she had not felt sure that his change of -mood was genuine, his laugh had rung false, and when he had laid his -hands on her shoulders she had felt their coldness through the thin -stuff of her negligée. She heaved a sigh of relief at the thought that -he was going. In his present mood there was no knowing what clashes -there might be, and it was the last evening, and there would be a full -moon, and she and Bassett would walk like lovers under its magic light. - -When her door had closed, the gallery and living-room became as quiet -as though the house were unoccupied. Sybil, approaching it, heard no -sound of voices, a fact that reassured her, for the long day had tired -her and she had no mind for talk. She was coming in by the balcony when -she saw Flora Stokes sitting there reading and deflected her course -toward the path that skirted the building’s front. If Flora noticed -her she made no sign, her eyes glued to her book, and Sybil, stepping -softly, for she dreaded the woman’s resentful glances, passed along to -the entrance of the living-room. The place was deserted and she stopped -on the threshold for a last look at the sky’s fading splendors. - -Across the depths of the room the door into the hall opened, but so -gently that she did not hear it. Stokes made this noiseless entrance in -the hope that she might be there, and now, seeing his hope fulfilled, -closed the door as carefully, standing against it watching her. - -If the conventional garb of the street was not as becoming to his -darkly Byronic style as the trappings of the Duke, he was still -unusually handsome. A figure of distinction in its lean grace, with -proud hawk features and the deep-set melancholy eyes that the matinée -girl loves. Even his pallor had charm in their opinion, adding to his -romantic suggestion. Gull Island sun and breezes had left no trace upon -it; his face against the background of the door was a yellowish white. - -Seeing that she did not turn he pronounced her name. At that she -wheeled, lightning-quick, and came forward from beneath the deep jut of -the gallery assuming as unconcerned a manner as she could. - -“Lovely evening,” she said as she advanced. “It’s been hard to come in.” - -“Evidently from the length of time you stayed out there. I’ve been -waiting for you.” - -It was not a propitious beginning, especially as he still stood against -the door as if intending to bar her exit. - -“I’m going up-stairs to dress now.” - -“There’s plenty of time. You can give me a few minutes. I’ve something -I want to say to you.” - -“Oh, Aleck!” She stopped with an air of weary expostulation. “_Don’t_ -say anything more. _Don’t_ begin that dreadful subject. I’m sick of it, -I loathe it and _can’t_ you see it isn’t any use?” - -He went on as if he hadn’t heard her: - -“I’ve been trying for days, ever since I came here. And you keep -avoiding me, always having some one with you. Now we’ll be going -to-morrow, we may not have another chance, and I must see you and tell -you”--he stopped and looked at the gallery. “Did I hear a step up -there?” - -She had heard nothing and thought it odd that he should be so suddenly -cautious. Discretion had been the last quality he had heretofore shown. - -“I _have_ avoided you and I’m going to continue doing it. Please move -away from the door. It’s silly to stand in front of it for I can go -round by the garden, but I’m tired and I don’t want to.” - -He came forward, speaking as he advanced. - -“This isn’t what you think. I’m done with that. You’ve made me -understand, you’ve got it across, Sybil. I’m not going to bother you -any more with that subject you loathe and think so dreadful. But I -can’t help loving you and wanting to help you.” She gave an exasperated -gesture and made a move to pass him. As she did so, he said: “I’ve -heard something of Jim Dallas.” - -She stopped as if all animating force had been stricken out of her, a -“What?” expelled on a caught breath. - -“Just before I left town I met an actor who says he saw him.” - -“Are you telling me the truth?” - -“Why should I lie? What do I gain by it? I swore the fellow to secrecy -and came up here to tell you and I’ve been trying----” - -She broke in: “Was he sure? Where was it?” - -The change in her manner would have crushed the hope in any man. -Shunning him like a leper, she now drew close and laid her hand on his -arm. - -“I can’t tell you here. It’s too dangerous, too many people coming and -going.” - -“It _was_ Jim?” - -“It _was_. It’s quite a story, more than just seeing him. But we’ve got -to get somewhere away from all these damned doors----” - -One of them opened--that into the hall behind them. They heard it and -wheeled round, faces sharp-set in defensive interrogation. It was -Flora Stokes. She rested on the threshold looking at them, and Stokes, -his senses more alert than the girl’s, withdrew his arm from her clasp. - -“Oh, Flora,” he said, his voice supremely light and easy. “Were you -looking for me?” - -Mrs. Stokes said no, she had come to put her book back. She walked -slowly to a table and placed her book on the corner. The room was very -still as she did this. Stokes, his hands deep in his pockets, moved -his head, following her progress as if it roused his curiosity. The -girl stood without a sound, the scene passing under her eyes with a -mirage-like unreality. - -“It seems I’ve intruded,” said Mrs. Stokes, each syllable meticulously -clear and precise. “But if you want to be alone I should think you’d -have chosen another place.” - -“Having chosen this is a pretty good proof we didn’t want to be alone,” -retorted her husband. - -She gave a light jeering sound of disbelief and walked to the entrance. -On the sill she turned and looked at them with smoldering eyes: - -“Don’t be afraid I’ll stay. I’m going for a walk on the front of the -island. That’s as far away as I can get; I’d go farther if I could.” - -She passed out of the door and Stokes turned to the girl: - -“There--that’s what I was afraid of. Some of the rest of them may come -in at any minute. We’ve got to get out of here, some place outside.” - -“The Point--the summer-house. I’ll go down there now--you follow me.” - -She ran to the entrance, he at her heels. Walking leisurely up the -path to the summer-house was Shine. She threw out her hands with a -distracted gesture and struck a foot on the floor in a frantic stamp. -Stokes smothered an oath. “Tell me here,” she implored, but he answered -with an imperative shake of the head. - -“The garden.” She was half-way across the room before he caught her up, -and this time it was he who laid his hand on her arm: - -“Sybil, have some sense. You’ll get us in wrong every way. You don’t -want any of these people to see us out there whispering together. -That’s just the place they’ll go while they’re waiting round for -supper. Listen now, get a hold on yourself. Jim’s safety is more -important than your anxiety. That photographer chap’s just strolling -round killing time; he’ll move on from there presently. Go up to your -room and wait. You can see the Point from your window. If he’s gone by -seven, come down and go along to the summer-house. I’ll watch too and -I’ll meet you there.” - -She opened her lips for a last protest, then evidently seeing there -was nothing else for it, gave out a groaning “All right” and left the -room. He followed her, saw her mount the stairs, and walked out on the -balcony. It was exquisitely still, the colors paling, the pines black -and motionless as if painted on the orange sky. He could see the figure -of his wife moving slowly toward the ocean bluffs. A newspaper lay on a -table near him and he took it up, slumping down in his chair as one who -relinquishes himself to a regained interest, but he did not read. - - - - -VI - - -ANNE packed for a space, then gave it up. She couldn’t go on with it, -she wanted to be down-stairs, not lose one minute of the last evening -at Gull Island. Her spirits, oppressed by Joe’s behavior, began to -bubble again, foam up in sparkling effervescence. You couldn’t pack -clothes in a trunk when you felt like dancing and the hour was too -beautiful for belief and your lover might be waiting for you in the -garden. She slipped off her negligée and chose her most becoming dress, -leaf-green crêpe that made her look slim as a reed and turned her skin -to ivory. She smoothed the black satin of her hair and hung round her -neck the chain of green beads she had bought for a dollar but you’d -never guess it. And she figured in front of the glass, studying her -reflection this way and that, trying to see herself with new eyes and -judge if she was a girl a man might be proud of. - -While thus engaged she heard the chug-chug of the launch. It must -be Joe going, and anxious to see the departure of that darkling and -uncomfortable spirit she went to the window. It looked out across the -slant of roofs that covered the kitchen wing and commanded a side-view -of the channel. Across the swift-sweeping current the boat came into -view, skimming forward like a home-faring bird. Anne leaned over the -sill, following it with startled eyes--where was Joe? There was Gabriel -in front at the wheel, but in the back--she stretched her neck trying -to see to the bottom of the cock-pit, there certainly was no one on the -seat. - -“Oh, _could_ he have missed it?” she groaned and cast up her eyes as if -invoking the protection of Heaven against such a calamity. - -But he couldn’t have, he wanted to go, it was his holiday and he -thought Gull Island was a beastly hole. He must have been where she -couldn’t see him. It was difficult to think where this might be--but -he _might_ have been bending down to put something in his suit-case. -A chair could have hidden him. She remembered what he had said about -leaving his baggage at the living-room entrance. If it was still there -then he had missed the boat and she ran down-stairs, hoping with a -prayerful earnestness that she would not find it. It was not there. -“Then he _is_ gone,” she said to herself with a satisfied nod and drew -a freer breath. The weight lifted, she went across to the garden where -she might find Bassett, and as she covered the space between the doors -the picture of the launch rose on her inner vision with Gabriel the -only visible occupant. - -Bassett was not in the garden, but Shine was, sauntering into view from -the balcony end. He’d been loafing about he said, just come up from the -Point. He’d been all round it, wonderful down there now and going to -be more wonderful, and he pointed to a pale glow on the horizon where -the moon was rising. They strolled about on the lanes of turf between -the massed colors of parterre and border, the air languishingly sweet -with the scent of the closing flowers. Then they went in, luxuriously -embedding themselves in two vast armchairs. Bassett found them here -and tried to look genial at the sight of Shine. He’d been writing some -letters in his own room and he dropped into a third armchair with the -sigh of well-earned rest. - -They talked about the moon and moonlight effects. Shine wanted to take -some photographs after supper, get the pines against the sea and the -silvered bulk of the Point, and he spoke of his flashlight picture -which they’d have as a remembrance of Gull Island. Anne said that was a -jolly idea, but she didn’t think they’d need a picture to remind them -of their stay, and she and Bassett exchanged a smile. - -It was still on their lips when a sound came from outside, a single -sharp detonation. It fell upon the evening’s tranquil hush, sudden and -startling, like something alien and unrelated. - -“What was that?” said Anne. - -“Sounds like a shot,” Shine thought. - -“It couldn’t be!” Bassett got up. “Nobody has a pistol here and if he -had he couldn’t use it--one of the special stipulations Driscoll made -when he lent us the place.” - -He moved to the land entrance and looked out. - -“What could it have been?” Anne looked questioningly at Shine, who, -having no other suggestion to offer, shrugged and shook his head. - -The door of Mrs. Cornell’s room opened on the gallery and Miss Pinkney -emerged, Mrs. Cornell behind her. - -“Mr. Bassett,” she cried, a hand on the railing. “Where’s Mr. Bassett?” - -Bassett drew out from under the gallery and looked up at her: - -“Did you hear that?” - -“I did and I told you that Mr. Driscoll never allowed any shooting on -the premises.” - -“Do you think that was a shot?” - -“Well, what else was it?” - -Mrs. Cornell, leaning comfortably on the railing, suggested that it -might be an auto tire. - -This drew a snort from Miss Pinkney: - -“How’d a motor get here--swim or fly?” Then to Bassett: “Mr. Driscoll’s -very strict about that. He won’t have the wild game or the gulls -disturbed and----” - -Bassett interrupted her: - -“That’s all right, Miss Pinkney. We were given those orders and we’ve -obeyed them. And none of us could shoot here if he wanted to--there’s -not a pistol in the outfit. Don’t you know it’s against the law to -carry one?” - -“Then some one’s taken mine,” she exclaimed, and straightening up with -an air of battle, “I’m coming down.” - -She left the gallery for the rear stairs, Mrs. Cornell in her wake. - -“What does she mean--hers?” Anne asked. - -“I don’t know what she means,” Bassett looked irritated. “It’s the -first I’ve heard of it.” - -“I don’t see what there was to shoot at anyhow,” came from Shine. -“Looked to me when I was out there as if all the gulls had gone to bed.” - -Miss Pinkney, entering, focussed their attention. - -“What’s this about a pistol of yours?” Bassett asked. - -She answered as she walked across the room to a desk under the gallery: - -“It’s the one Mr. Driscoll gave me, thinking it might be useful when I -was here alone, opening or closing the house. I was to keep it loaded -and have it handy, but I’d trust my tongue to get rid of any man and -here it’s lain with the poker chips.” She pulled out a side-drawer of -the desk. “There!” she exclaimed, turning on them in gloomy triumph, -“What did I tell you! It’s gone.” - -Bassett looked into the drawer: - -“You’re sure it was here?” - -“Didn’t I see it this morning when I put away the counters you were -playing with last night?” - -“Umph!” Bassett banged the drawer shut in anger. “I’ll see that this -is explained to Mr. Driscoll. And whoever’s taken it, they’ll get -what’s coming to them. A damned fool performance! To get us in wrong -just as we were leaving----” - -The hall door opened and Stokes entered. - -“Who’s shooting round here?” he said. “I thought it was taboo.” - -“That’s just what we want to know. Where were you?” - -“Sitting out on the balcony.” - -“See anybody?” - -“No. I’ve been looking about. I went down the path to the pine grove -and round the house but I didn’t see a soul.” - -“Why, who could it be?” said Anne. “Aren’t we all”--she looked over the -standing figures--“No, we’re not all here. Who’s outside?” - -“Mrs. Stokes is.” Shine spoke up. “I saw her walking along the ocean -bluffs as I came up from the Point.” - -“Sybil is, too,” Mrs. Cornell added. “She went out just a few minutes -ago. I saw her from my window.” - -“It can’t be either of them.” Bassett’s vexation had given place to a -sudden uneasiness. “I don’t understand. Nobody could have come over -from the mainland with the tide up. I’ll go out there----” - -A sound from outside stopped him. It was a cry in a woman’s voice, -close by. - -“What’s that?” some one said, and before an answer could come, the cry -rose again--a high wailing scream carrying words: - -“Sybil! Sybil! Sybil’s dead--Sybil’s killed!” - -A clamorous mingling of voices rose from the group, combined in a -single up-swelling note of horror. The men rushed for the entrance and -met Flora Stokes. She burst in between them, white as the ghost of -Cæsar, with her opened mouth a dark cavity. - -“Sybil’s murdered--dead--shot.” Each word was projected in a screaming -gasp. - -Bassett shouted at her, “Where?” - -And she waved an arm toward the channel. - -“There--from the Point. She’s gone--she’s dead! She went over into the -water. On the top of the cliff. She’s murdered--dead--murdered!” - -As if she were dead, too, and of no more consequence, they fled past -her--a line of people streaming out into the serene evening that held -a hideous catastrophe. Only Anne stayed, her face as if overlaid by a -coating of white paint. She went to Flora and seized her by the arm. - -“Who was it?” she whispered. “Who did it?” - -The woman looked at her at first as if not knowing who she was. Then -jerking her arm free, clasped her hands against the sides of her head -and went across the room staring upward and crying out: - -“I don’t know. I didn’t see---- It’s God’s truth, I don’t know.” - -Anne ran out after the others. - - - - -VII - - -THE moon had risen and hung on the edge of the sky like a great disk -of white paper. Anne saw the others running this way and that along -the edge of the Point. A boat was pushing out from the dock, Stokes -in it, and, caught by the current, it shot down the gleaming surface -of the channel. There were cries in men’s voices and Stokes’ answer, -bell-clear from the water. Then Shine ran by her, back to the house, -grim-visaged with staring eyes. The scene had the fantastic quality of -a nightmare, the solemn splendors of the setting and the gesticulating, -shouting figures darting about like grotesque silhouettes. - -She ran on through the pine wood up the path beyond. Mrs. Cornell met -her, tried to speak with chattering teeth, but ended in a scream and -fell upon her shoulder. Over her head Anne saw Bassett flying down the -slope to the wharf. Then presently boats moving out from Hayworth. They -came with incredible speed, sliding forward in a group that spread and -broke into units scattering across the channel. Here they sped back and -forth, up and down, swift black shapes that seemed to be executing some -complicated maneuvers along the glittering track of moonlight. She was -aware of Bassett’s figure leaving the wharf and racing to the house, of -Shine thudding by and calling: - -“They’re here already! I got some one on the wire and I told him to go -like hell.” - -Miss Pinkney’s voice answered him from the edge of the Point where she -stood like a black basalt statue: - -“Oh, they’re here, all right. Every feller that has a boat’s out. But -it’s no use; no one who’s ever got caught in _that_ current’s been -found.” - -Shine muttered an invocation and came to a stop. They all stood -speechless staring at the boats--the boats looking for Sybil who half -an hour ago was alive like themselves and now was--where? - -As soon as he saw the fleet in operation, Bassett ran to the house. He -had to find Flora and get fuller information from her before he called -up the police, and not seeing her outside, he supposed she was still -there. The great room was almost dark. He felt for one of the standard -lamps and pulled the string. The gush of light fell directly over her, -close to him, sunk in an armchair, as still as if she, too, had ceased -to live. He had expected difficulties in getting a coherent statement -from her, but she told him what she had seen, briefly and clearly, as -if she had known he was coming and was ready for him. - -She had skirted the island and come to that part of the path which -faced the Point. A hollow intervened, extending to the water’s edge -in a mass of shelving rock. Across this hollow she saw Sybil appear -on the end of the Point, coming up from the opposite side, and almost -immediately heard the shot. Sybil had thrown up her arms, staggered -forward and gone over the bluff. It all happened in a flash and Flora, -though describing herself as dazed, had run down the path into the -hollow and out on the rocks thinking she could catch her. But she saw -the body go swirling by--far out of her reach, caught and borne along -in the current. She had watched it, stunned, then had come to her -senses and staggered back to the shore--she thought she had fallen more -than once--and ran to the house. On the way there she had seen no one -and heard nothing. - -Bassett left her and went to the library to call up Forestville, the -county seat. He knew the place well--a small town on the edge of -northern solitudes. It was the starting point for hunting parties to -New Brunswick, and Bassett, a sportsman in his leisure hours, had -stayed there several times assembling his guides and gear. On his last -trip, two years ago, trouble with a guide had brought him in contact -with the sheriff, Abel Williams. Over legal wrangling they had struck -up a friendship and he remembered Williams as a man of some capacity, -straight and fair-minded. If he was still in office it would simplify -matters; to start out with confidence in the director would be a vital -gain. He waited, the receiver against his ear, a foot drumming on the -carpet, then a deep and growling voice hummed along the wire. It was -Abel Williams. - -Williams would be down as soon as he could, with Mr. Rawson, the -district-attorney--an hour and a half to two hours, the roads being -bad. The shore people had been told it was an accident--that’s all -right, couldn’t hold an inquest anyway without a body and it was a good -thing to keep ’em off. Better not let anything come out till they’d got -the situation in hand, easy to fix at that end as the United American -Press man was off fishing. They’d do a good deal better if the press -was held off for a spell. The place was small, they’d clutter it up, -tramp out foot-prints, get in the way searching for clues. Seeing where -the island was and that there was no one on it but their own crowd, it -would be possible to keep things out of the public eye till they had -the work well started. - -Bassett looked at his watch--nearly eight--probably two hours to wait. -The best thing he could do was to get them together and keep them as -quiet as he could. As he went down the path his mind collected and -marshalled in order the facts he would have to present. They had all -been in the house except Stokes on the balcony and Flora walking round -the island. Stokes eaten into by a hopeless love, Flora on fire with -jealousy and hate--passions that make for murder. “God, what’s going to -be the end of this?” he groaned to himself. - -He found them in a group near the pine grove, excitedly conferring -together. They had been back and forth to the house and the wharf, some -aimlessly running about, others trying to do something intelligent and -helpful. Stokes had just returned with the electric torch and they were -preparing to search the ground for foot-prints. Bassett brought their -activities to an end and shepherded them to the house. With dragging -feet and lowered heads they trailed up the path and filed into the -living-room. - -Here, under the radiance of the lights, they looked at one another as -if expecting to see startling changes and fell groaning into chairs, -or sat, stiff and upright, with rigid muscles. The effect of the shock -showed in Mrs. Cornell, Stokes and Shine, in a sudden outburst of -loquacity. They went over and over it, what they were saying, where -they were, what had entered their minds when they heard the shot. -“And I thought to myself,” sentence after sentence started that way. -Then the feverish talk began to die. Bassett had told them when the -authorities might be expected and as the hour drew near, dread of the -drama in which they found themselves stilled their tongues. The sea -breeze, freighted with the acrid odors of uncovered mud and seaweed, -blew through the room. Bassett rose and closed the garden door, and -eyes shifted to him, hung on his hand as it slid the bolt. - -“What are you shutting the door for?” Mrs. Cornell quavered. - -“I thought there was too much draught.” - -“Oh, what does that matter,” she wailed, “with Sybil killed and -floating out to sea?” - -She broke into loud hiccoughing sobs. Stokes shifted in his chair and -snarled out: - -“Can’t you stop making that noise?” - -Bassett crossed to where Anne was sitting by the entrance. She had her -back to the room and was looking out at the lights of Hayworth dotting -the shore. He stood behind her chair and put his hand on her shoulder. -Her fingers stole up and rested on his, icy cold. He bent till his head -was close to hers and whispered: - -“Bear up. Thank God this can’t touch you in any way.” - -Her fingers pressed an answer but she said nothing. - -Shine came toward them: “Those fellers were lucky who got off this -afternoon. I might have gone with them if I’d had the sense.” - -Anne answered this time: - -“Yes, they were more fortunate than we are.” - -Mrs. Cornell, her sobs under control, spoke up: - -“But even if we _were_ here they can’t suspect us. We’ve got alibis, -we’re all accounted for. We were all in----” - -She realized where she was going and stopped. There was a portentous -silence. Shine almost shouted, pointing out at the channel: - -“The tide’s falling fast. They can’t get into the dock here. How will -they make a landing?” - -Bassett answered: - -“In a cove at the upper end of the island. They’ve a dock there for low -water. They have to make a detour, that’s all.” - -Flora, who had been sitting with her hand over her eyes, dropped it -and sat erect. Her breath came from her in a loud exhalation that -was almost a groan. Every pair of eyes shifted to her, watchful, -questioning, apprehensive. - -“Do you feel ill, Flora?” said Bassett, moving to her side. - -“No--no,” she looked wildly about. “But this waiting--it’s so awful.” - -Miss Pinkney suggested a glass of water, but Flora waved a hand as if -pushing it away. Stokes rose and moved to a seat beside her. - -“They’ll be here soon now.” - -She sank back and closed her eyes. Her husband bent a somber, sidewise -look toward her, then laid his hand on one of hers. Her own turned and -the thin fingers twined like clinging roots about his. - -“It won’t be hard,” he reassured. “Just give them a clear account of -what you saw.” - -She waved the other hand in front of her face, like a person in -unendurable pain, who makes a vague distracted gesture for silence. - -Anne spoke from the door: - -“There’s a light moving out from the shore.” - -The statement shook them. There was a simultaneous stir of feet and -bodies, a heave of labored breaths. - -Bassett went to the entrance: - -“Yes--that’s a launch. They’re coming. I must go to meet them.” - -He looked over the company, the haggard faces all turned toward him. -Some of them wore an expression of yearning appeal as if he was their -only source of strength in this devastating hour: - -“Now remember there’s nothing to get scared or rattled about. -They’ll ask you questions and what you must do is to answer them -accurately--not what you think or imagine but what you _know_. Keep -that in the front of your minds. The clearer you are in your statements -the quicker you’ll get through. And please stay here, just as you are. -They’ll probably want to see you right off.” - -A benumbed silence followed his departure. Anne moved from the door to -a chair nearer the others. Stokes withdrew his hand from Flora’s and -straightened himself, jerking down his waistcoat and craning his neck -up from his collar. The low rippling murmurs of the receding tide were -singularly distinct. Suddenly the shrill whistle of a launch pierced -the night outside. Mrs. Cornell leaped as if the sound had been a -weapon that had stabbed her: - -“Oh!” she cried, “why do they do that? Isn’t Sybil being murdered -enough to stand!” - -“For Christ’s sake, keep your mouth shut,” Stokes flung at her, glaring. - -The savage quality in his voice penetrated Mrs. Cornell’s encasing -terrors. She shrunk and slid the look of a frightened animal at Shine. -Then the silence settled and they sat like those who have looked upon -the head of Medusa. - - - - -VIII - - -BASSETT on the wharf in the cove watched the launch approaching over -the glistening floor of water. As it grated against the boards he heard -his name in a deep-throated bass voice and the big body of the sheriff -climbed over the side. A rough padded hand grasped his, and “Well, Mr. -Bassett, the law’s got us together again,” was growled into his ear. - -Two more figures followed him. One was Rawson, the district-attorney, -whom the vivid light revealed as a man much younger than Williams, -tall and narrow-shouldered, with a lean New England visage and a pair -of horn spectacles astride a high-bridged nose. The other was disposed -of with a casual hand-wave and a murmur of “Patrick,” brought, it was -explained, to take charge of the causeway. Rawson, it appeared, knew -Gull Island well, having been there several times on legal business -for Mr. Driscoll. - -As they walked back Bassett told his story. He noticed that the younger -man’s questions were sharp and to the point and before they had gone -half-way realized that Rawson was of a much higher grade of education -and intelligence than his coadjutor. A smart chap, he thought, and felt -his burden lightened--they could do good teamwork. Stopping by the edge -of the pine wood he pointed out the scene of the shooting and was again -struck by the man’s quick comprehension. - -Moving on, Williams observed with grim relish: - -“You couldn’t have a murder committed in a better place than -this--better for us. Once you’re on here it’s a damned hard business -getting off. These folks are as good as in prison. Now, Mr. Bassett, -just where does that causeway lie?” - -The channel stretched before them, a shining expanse, ripple-creased, -summits of rock emerging. The receding water was like a silver veil -being slowly withdrawn, its delicate tissue torn by sharp-edged -projections. Bassett pointed beyond the wharf: - -“There! Below the water there are steps cut in the rock that lead down -to it. It goes straight across to a breakwater and landing outside the -village, a bank and a belt of trees above. The whole stretch won’t be -clear till nearly midnight.” - -Williams gave his instructions to the man Patrick--a watch on the -causeway, any one stopped who came from the mainland or attempted to -leave the island. Patrick, a silent massive countryman, with a stolid -bull-dog face, thrust out his chin and nodded. He slouched off, the -sound of his heavy boots loud on the rocks. The others turned toward -the house, the light from its opened door falling outward in a long -golden square. - -The occupants of the room heard them and looked at one another. Mrs. -Cornell, with clenched hands, slowly stood up, and the rest, like -people in church who see a figure rise and simultaneously follow its -example, got to their feet. They stood by their chairs, motionless, all -facing the same way. It was like an ensemble scene in a theater. - -The three men entered and under the shadow of the gallery paused for a -moment surveying the standing figures much as they might have looked at -some spectacle arranged for their approval. William was surprised at -their number and their line ranged like a battle front. Rawson’s sharp -eye ran over the faces, mentally ticketing them, and Bassett, with no -precedent to guide him, walked toward his associates and announced: - -“Ladies and gentlemen, the authorities have come. Mr. Rawson and Mr. -Williams.” - -They bowed and then not knowing what to do next, subsided into their -seats. The men came forward, moving to the long table where Williams -sat down, fumbling in his pocket for a fountain pen and paper and -clearing a space for the taking of notes. Rawson, surveying the seated -assemblage, said: - -“This is the whole of your company, Mr. Bassett?” - -“All who were here at the time of the murder. Several of the actors and -assistants left at five-thirty and Joe Tracy, one of the company at a -quarter to seven.” - -“You saw them go?” - -“I saw the first lot go. I didn’t see Tracy. But,” he looked at Anne, -“this is his sister, Miss Tracy. She probably did.” - -“Did you, Miss Tracy?” said Rawson. - -Her voice was very low but steady and clear: - -“Yes, he went.” - -“Well, that disposes of them,” said Rawson, and drawing up a chair, sat -down facing the line of solemn people. - -There were a few formalities to go through. A general agreement on the -time of the murder--a few minutes before seven disposed of that, and -the interrogation of Mrs. Stokes, the one eyewitness, followed. - -She began well, telling the story she had told Bassett. When she -described her first view of Sybil running to the edge of the Point, -Rawson interrupted with a question: - -“Was she running fast, as if some one was after her, as if she was -frightened?” - -“Yes, she was running fast but I don’t know whether she was frightened. -I wasn’t close enough to see anything like that, and I didn’t have time -to see. Just as I was looking at her the shot came.” - -“Did you notice the direction it came from?” - -“No--it was like a sort of loud snap in the air. I heard it and she -staggered along a few steps and went over.” - -“Did you hear any sounds--footsteps? A person makes a noise on this -rocky ground.” - -“I didn’t hear a thing.” She leaned toward Rawson with haggard -insistence. “I _couldn’t_ hear anything. I was stunned. Mr. Bassett -asked me that and you all seem to think I ought to have heard the -person--the murderer--or tried to catch him. But I hadn’t any sense, I -just stood there paralyzed, not grasping what had happened.” - -“Mr. Bassett says you went out on the rocks and tried to catch the -body.” - -“Oh, yes. _Then_ I came back to life. I ran down into the hollow and -out on the rocks as far as I could go. And she was going by on the -current--her hair and her dress all whirled about. Oh God, why was I -the one to see it!” - -Stokes addressed her, his voice low and urgent: - -“Flora, just try to answer quietly.” - -She paid no attention to him, her eyes riveted on Rawson. - -“And then you came back to the house?” - -“Yes, but I stood there watching her for a few minutes. I don’t know -how long, desperate, not knowing what to do. And then I started to run -back here and I fell down. I suppose I was shaking so and the rocks -were slippery. I think I fell twice, but I don’t know. I seemed to be -half-crazy.” - -“You saw or heard nothing on your way back?” - -“No, no, I keep telling you,” her voice grew higher. “I _never_ saw -anybody. If anybody was there he must have been hiding. They could -have heard me--I was screaming.” She turned to the others. “Wasn’t I -screaming?” - -Bassett confirmed her statement and she went on, her voice still -higher, the cords in her neck starting out: - -“Of course they heard me and hid--got out of the way. Some stranger. -We were all in the house, everybody here was in the house. It couldn’t -have been any of them.” - -Stokes half rose: “Flora--_please_!” - -She turned violently on him: - -“Why shouldn’t I say it? I’m not afraid. I was the only person outside -and it couldn’t have been me.” She faced round on Rawson. “Nobody could -think that. Ask them--these people. They’ll tell you.” - -“That’s not at all necessary, Mrs. Stokes.” Rawson was mild and suave. -“Now if you’ll try to be calm----” - -“Calm, calm,” she groaned and bent almost double, dropping her face -into her hands. Stokes got up, chalk-white in the lamplight: - -“My wife’s pretty well knocked out, Mr. Rawson.” - -“Quite understandable, Mr. Stokes. We won’t trouble her any more just -now. And if the rest of you ladies and gentlemen will refrain from -saying what you think or offering suggestions we’ll get on a good deal -quicker.” - -Stokes took his chair. Flora raised herself and dropped against -the back of hers with upraised chin and closed eyes. Bassett had a -photographic impression of Williams, striking softly on his teeth with -his fountain pen and looking at her. - -They went on to Stokes who was very clear and composed. He had walked -about--down the path to the pine wood and round that end of the house. -It was absolutely still and he had heard nobody. He was not sure of the -direction of the shot as he had been reading a paper at the time. Like -the rest of them he had had no suspicion of anything serious or, of -course, he would have investigated. - -Everybody else was in the house. Bassett indicated their positions, -pointing them out as he explained their whereabouts. - -Miss Saunders’ movements followed. She had spent the earlier part of -the evening sitting on the cliffs with Miss Tracy. Miss Tracy had left -her some time after six, Miss Saunders saying she would follow but -wanted to see the end of the sunset. No one had seen her come back but -she had come back, for shortly before seven Mrs. Cornell had noticed -her leaving the house. - -Mrs. Cornell, invested with the grisly excitement of the hour, was -eager to tell what she knew. She had been standing at the window of -her room, and she saw Sybil on the path below passing the end of the -balcony. Mrs. Cornell was surprised for it was not far from supper-time -and Sybil was still in her Viola dress. She had not watched her, but -had gone back to lock the trunk. Both she and Miss Pinkney agreed -that the shot had followed soon after--about six or seven minutes they -thought. - -They diverged to the place of the murder, the Point. The last person -who had been there was Shine, somewhere round six-thirty, though he -couldn’t swear to the time. He’d stayed there perhaps ten minutes, -walking round, and had then gone up to the garden. As far as he could -see the place was deserted. In answer to the question had he seen any -one on his way back, he said he had seen Mrs. Stokes walking along the -ocean bluffs and Mr. Stokes reading a paper on the balcony. - -This ended the interrogations for the time being. The company was told -they might retire to their rooms. But they were to understand that they -were held on Gull Island for the present, no going off on any pretext -or holding communication with any one on the mainland. Also--and Mr. -Rawson was emphatic--once in their rooms they were to stay in them -unless sent for by him. He did not want any wandering about in the -halls or talking together. - -They rose weariedly and prepared to go. Stokes helped his wife to her -feet and Bassett edged between the chairs toward Anne. - -“How are you?” he murmured, for her appearance shocked him. - -“All right. There’s nothing the matter with me.” - -“Try to get some rest.” - -“Will they want us any more to-night?” - -“I don’t think so--not you anyway.” - -Stokes and Flora moved toward the hall door, the woman limply hanging -on her husband’s arm. Rawson’s voice arrested them: - -“Mr. and Mrs. Stokes, just wait a minute.” - -Everybody stopped in mid-transit, holding their positions as if they -were standing to be photographed. - -“Where is your room or rooms?” - -“We’re together in a room on this floor out in the hall here opposite -the stairs.” - -“I’d rather Mrs. Stokes went up to the second floor.” He turned to -Bassett, “You have space up there I suppose?” - -“Space!” It came from Miss Pinkney before Bassett had time to -answer--these hirelings of the law did not realize where they were. -“We’ve put up more people here than you could get into one of those -flea-bitten hotels up your way.” - -“Take her things up there. You help her.” - -Flora turned stricken eyes on her husband. He said nothing but very -gently loosened her fingers on his arm. They trailed away, Miss Pinkney -stalking ahead. Mrs. Cornell and Anne made their exit by the opposite -door. Both were silent as they climbed the stairs. Mrs. Cornell’s door -opened and closed on her, and Anne fared on to hers on the side stretch -of the gallery. She looked down into the lighted room, saw Shine move -toward the entrance, heard his voice, loud and startled: - -“Why, there’s some one down by the dock!” - -The other men wheeled sharply, on the alert. She stopped, head bent, -listening. - -“Patrick--the damned fool.” It was Williams. “Told to watch the -causeway and standing up there like a lighthouse.” - -“Oh, it’s your man. I’ll go down and tell him.” Shine wanted to help -all he could before his retirement to the butler’s bedroom. “He ought -to be where he won’t show, is that it?” - -“Yes, tell him to stow his carcass somewhere out of sight. He ain’t -there to advertise the fact he’s on guard.” - -“If he gets in the shadow under the roof of the boat-house,” said -Bassett, “he can command the whole length of it and not be seen from -either side.” - -“That’s the dope. The neck of this bottle’s the causeway and it’s going -to be corked good and tight to-night.” - -Anne’s door closed without a sound. - -The three men turned back from the entrance. “Is that woman gone -up-stairs yet?” Rawson murmured to his assistant as Williams stepped to -the middle of the room and watched the gallery. He continued to watch -it till Flora and Miss Pinkney appeared and finally were shut away -behind their several doors, then he looked at Rawson and nodded. - -“Now,” said the district-attorney to Bassett, “I want you to show me -where that pistol was.” - -Bassett indicated the desk: - -“In the third drawer of the desk. Miss Pinkney is certain it was there -this morning.” - -“And you know it wasn’t there when you looked after the shooting?” -Rawson went to the desk as he spoke. - -“I can swear it wasn’t.” - -Rawson pulled out the drawer and thrust in his hand. - -“Well, it’s here now,” he said, and drew out a revolver. - -He held it toward them on his palm. They stared at it, for the moment -too surprised for comment. Rawson broke it open; there was one empty -chamber. - -“Can we get into some room where there’s more privacy than this -place?” he said. “I want some more talk with you, Mr. Bassett.” - -Bassett directed them to the library. He put out the living-room lights -and followed them. - - - - -IX - - -BASSETT was prepared for what he had to tell. During the long wait for -the officers of the law his mind had been ranging over it, shaking -bare from unnecessary detail the chain of events that had ended in -murder. It was impossible to conceal the situation between Sybil and -the Stokeses; he could not if he had wished it and he did not wish -it. A girl had been brutally done to death, a girl innocent of any -evil intention, and his desire to bring her murderer to justice was -as strong as either Williams’ or Rawson’s. And they could get the -facts better from him than from the muddled stories of the others, -their minds clouded by prejudice and hearsay. He hoped that what he -said would be coldly unbiased, the naked truth as he knew it. That his -revelations would involve a woman whom he liked and pitied would not -induce him to withhold what ought to be known. Chivalry had no place -in this grim drama. As he had discharged his duties as director of a -theatrical company rent by passions and dissensions, he now prepared to -discharge them as the most responsible and fair-minded member of the -group. - -Sitting by the desk in the library he unveiled the situation, what he -had heard, seen and knew. The men gave an unwinking attention, now and -then stopping him to plant a question. The trend of Williams’ thoughts -was soon revealed--he suspected Flora Stokes. When the matter was -threshed out he came to an open admission with the remark: - -“Well, you have only one person here who had the provocation necessary -to commit murder.” - -Bassett made no answer. If his duty required him to tell all he knew, -it did not require him to give his own opinions. - -Rawson who was smoking, his long, loose-jointed frame slouched down in -an armchair, took his cigar from his mouth: - -“Of course the woman’s the first person you’d think of. She had the -necessary provocation and the state of mind. But the way she came in -and told them--as Mr. Bassett describes it--doesn’t look to me like a -guilty person.” - -“Why not?” - -“Sounds too genuine, too like real excitement.” - -“Don’t you think it’s natural to get excited if you’ve killed some one?” - -“Yes, but not just that way.” - -Williams leaned over the arm of his chair: - -“You got to remember something about these people, Rawson--and it -counts big--they’re all actors.” - -Bassett spoke up quickly: - -“No, she wasn’t acting. You’d have known that if you’d seen her. What -she did was natural--a woman suffering from a fearful shock.” - -“Couldn’t an actor put that on?” - -“Yes, some could, but I’m certain she wasn’t.” - -“When Stokes came into the room after the shot,” said Rawson, “how did -he behave?” - -“He seemed all right. But I can’t honestly say that I noticed him much. -The light was fading and I was so irritated by the thought that some -one had been shooting that I didn’t pay any attention to him.” - -“Oh, rubbish!” Williams made a rolling motion in the scoop of the big -chair. “You can’t suspect the man; he was in love with her. He didn’t -want to kill her, he wanted to keep her alive.” - -“Men _do_ kill the women they love, especially when they can’t get her.” - -“Yes, they do. I’ve known of such cases. But that’s impulse. This was -premeditated.” The sheriff pointed at the revolver lying on the desk. -“Sometime to-day somebody located that gun, took it for a purpose--not -to shoot sea-gulls as you thought, Mr. Bassett.” - -Rawson looked at the pistol: - -“Premeditation, all right. Was there anybody in the outfit who didn’t -know you’d opened that drawer and found the revolver gone?” - -Bassett considered: - -“Stokes didn’t know. He came in after I’d shut the drawer. I didn’t -speak of it because just as I’d got through asking him if he’d seen any -one, we heard Mrs. Stokes’ scream.” - -“And _she_ didn’t, of course,” commented Williams. - -“While you were running round at the Point the house was empty?” - -“I think Mrs. Stokes was here all the time. I never saw her outside.” - -“Any of the others come up?” - -“I’m not certain of all of them. I know Shine did; I sent him back to -phone over to Hayworth for the boats. And Stokes did, he came up for -the electric torch when I was in here telephoning to you.” - -“Then neither of them knew the loss of the revolver had been discovered -and they had plenty of opportunity to return it to the desk?” - -Bassett nodded, and after a minute’s cogitation Rawson went on: - -“Doesn’t it seem odd to you that no one saw Miss Saunders when she came -back to the house?” - -“No. They were all in their rooms, except Shine who was down at the -Point and Mrs. Stokes who was reading on the balcony. I asked her -particularly if she’d noticed Sybil pass and she said no, she’d been -interested in her book and wouldn’t have noticed anybody.” - -“I’d give a good deal to know what Miss Saunders did in that time. I -think it would let in some light.” - -“How so?” - -Rawson narrowed his eyes in contemplation of an unfolding line of -thought: - -“Well, what took her out again to the Point after she’d come in? She -hadn’t a good deal of time and she wanted to change her clothes before -supper. It looks to me as if she met some one in the house, some one -who wanted her to go down there with them.” - -“Mrs. Cornell says she was alone.” - -“She might have started alone and gone to meet them.” - -“Then it couldn’t have been Stokes,” said Williams, “for Mr. Bassett -says she wouldn’t speak to him if she could help it.” - -“That’s right,” Bassett nodded in agreement. “She’d never have made a -date with him. She shunned him like the plague. If you knew her you -wouldn’t see anything in that going out. She was restless and unhappy -and the place here--the sea, the views--fascinated her. It was our last -evening and it was like her not to want to miss any of it, slip out for -a minute to enjoy the end of it.” - -“And came upon some one waiting for her--lying in wait and----” - -Rawson did not finish. A thud and crackling crash came from the -living-room. The three men rose with a simultaneous leap and ran for -the door. - - - - -X - - -OF ALL the people gathered in the house that evening Anne had been the -most silent. Her ravaged face, the contours broken by gray hollows, -bearing the stamp of shock and horror, had been unnoticed among the -other faces. Now and then a pitying glance had been directed to her, -grief as Sybil’s friend must have added a last unbearable poignancy to -the tragedy. - -After her question to Flora her mind had seemed to blur and cease to -function. She had run from the house not knowing what she did, gone -hither and thither with the others, looking, speaking, listening in -a blind daze. It was not till they returned to the living-room that -her faculties began to clear and coordinate. The lights, the familiar -setting, the talk that could not leave the subject, shook her back to -reality. It was then that she went to the window and sat with her back -to the room. She wanted no one to see her face; she was afraid of what -it might betray. - -Her thoughts circled round the image of Joe as she had last seen -him--the vision of him as some one strange and sinister. And the -boat--the boat with only Gabriel in it--it kept coming up like a -picture revolving on a wheel--going and returning, going and returning. -Had he stayed and what for? That question revolved with the picture of -the boat. She could not get free of them, their obsessing force held -her like a somnambulist staring into the night. - -She thought of telling Bassett and gave that up--with the police -expected she could not get him alone, and why add to his burden with -her suspicions? Yes, that was what it was--nothing but a suspicion. -She had no certainty, Joe might have been in the boat, Joe might have -got off the island some other way. To-morrow something might come to -light that would make these hideous fancies seem like the dreams of -delirium. That was the state of mind she tried to maintain when she -went up-stairs and overheard a man was on guard at the causeway. - -With that knowledge her outlook changed. Her passive rôle was over. She -sat down on the side of the bed and with a grim desperate resolution -faced what she had tried to flee. - -If Joe had done it and if he was on the island he would try to get -off at low tide. It was safe to assume that he was outside, hidden -till the causeway was open. To go out to find him would be useless, -he would never reveal himself to her, and if she was seen suspicion -would instantly be aroused. She must get somewhere that would command -the causeway and its approaches. Her mind ran over every nook and -angle, every shadow and rock ledge between the house and the shore. -Impossible--it was too open and the light was like day. The best -place--the only place--was the living-room entrance. From there she -could see in all directions, the balcony end, the kitchen wing, the -pine grove. She would try to wave him back, possibly get to him--she -had to take her chances and trust to Heaven. - -And then he might never come--it might be just an awful nightmare and -he was with Jimmy Travers on his way to the northern woods. She dropped -her face in her hands and sent up broken words of pleading that it -might be so. - -The tide was at full ebb at midnight. At a quarter before she made -ready. She took from the bureau a book she had been reading--if she -met any one she could say she had come down to find it--and opened -her door with the stealth of a burglar. A dead silence reigned as she -stole down the stairs and into the living-room. Here the great line of -windows--the moon not yet upon them--shone in gray oblongs diffusing a -spectral light that did not touch the darkness under the galleries. - -At the entrance, pressed against the door, she looked out. It was a -world of white enchantment, breathlessly still. She could see the -patterned surfaces of leaves, the cracks and fissures of the rocks. -Below the channel lay almost bare, pools glistening like dropped -mirrors, mounds of mud casting inky shadows. In the middle--a restless -silvery sparkle--ran a narrow stream carrying a glinting line of -radiance to the ocean beyond. The pungent smell of mud and seaweed came -from it along with the sleepy lisp of rippling water. - -She could hear the murmur of the men’s voices from the open library -windows, and like the throbbing of a muffled engine, the beating of her -own heart. - -Into that deep enveloping quietude came a sound, so faint, so -infinitely small and hushed, that only expectant ears could have -caught it. It came from the room behind her, and turning, she slid -back against the wall, her body black against its blackness. The -sound continued, the opening of a door opposite, the door into the -kitchen wing. It seemed no door in the world had ever opened so -slowly--creaking, stopping, resuming, dying away. She could see -nothing, for the darkness of the gallery lay impenetrable over that -furtive entrance. - -There was a footstep, light as the fall of a leaf, and she saw him -coming toward her in that high luminous pallor from the windows. He was -like a shadow, so evenly dark, a shape without detail, moving with a -shadow’s noiseless passage. She saw the outline of the cap on his head -and that he carried his shoes in one hand. - -She came forward with a hand raised for caution, sending her voice -before her in an agonized whisper: - -“Go back, Joe. The causeway’s watched. You can’t get over that way. -_Go!_” - -He was gone, a fleet flying, vanishing back into the darkness under the -gallery. Out of it came the soft closing of the door. - -The room swayed, pale light and darkness swam and coalesced. She knew -she was near a table and put out her hand to steady herself by it, -something solid to hold to for one minute. The polished surface slid -under her fingers and she groped out with the hand that held the book. -The book slipped from her clasp, fell with a thud like a thunderclap, -and a grasping snatch to save it swept a lamp crashing to the floor. -Panic dispelled her faintness and she made a rush for the door. She had -gained it. Her fingers clutched round the knob, as she heard the steps -of the men in the hall and knew it was too late to escape. - -They burst in, thrust into the room’s dim quiet as if shot by a blast. - -“It’s nothing,” she called, hearing her voice thin and hoarse. -“Nothing’s happened. It’s only Anne Tracy.” - -The lights leaped out and she saw them, Bassett with his hand on the -electric button, stricken still, looking this way and that. His eye -found her first, backed against the door, a small green-clad figure -with an ashen face. - -“What’s this mean?” said Rawson. - -“Nothing.” She was afraid the handle would rattle with the shaking of -her hand so let it go. “I upset the lamp in the dark. I didn’t see it -that’s all.” - -“What are you doing here?” - -“I came down to get my book. I forgot and left it when I went -up-stairs.” - -She could get her breath now and her voice was under control. She felt -strength oozing back into her body and with it courage. - -“You’re as white as a sheet,” Williams blurted out. - -“Did something frighten you?” demanded Bassett. - -“No, but a sort of faintness came over me, there by the table, and I -grabbed at it and upset the lamp.” - -Rawson looked at the table with the shattered fragments of the lamp -beside it. It was not far from the entrance door. - -“Did you see anything--anything outside?” - -“No, not a thing and I didn’t hear a sound.” - -“What do you suppose made you feel faint?” - -“Oh!” She dared to make a gesture, upraised hands that dropped limply. -“Hasn’t there been enough here to make anybody faint?” - -“You’ve got to remember, Rawson,” said Bassett who thought the man’s -insistence unnecessary, “what a shock this has been--especially to Miss -Tracy who was Miss Saunders’ friend.” - -“I remember.” Then to Anne: “Miss Tracy, if you should withhold any -information from us you’d get yourself into a very uncomfortable -position.” - -“I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t,” she breathed. - -Rawson’s glance remained on her, dubiously intent. Bassett noted it -with a resentment he found it difficult to hide. - -“You can absolutely rely on Miss Tracy,” he said. “She would be -perfectly frank with you if she had anything to tell.” - -“No doubt, no doubt,” said the other, and walked to the entrance. “I’m -going out to have a look around.” On the sill he turned and addressed -Anne. “I gave some instructions to you ladies and I expected to have -them followed. You’ll please remember them in the future.” - -He passed out into the brilliancy of the moonlight. Now that he was -gone Bassett felt he must make her understand. He had been astonished -at what she had done. It was so unlike her, a disobedience of orders at -such a time as this. - -“You must do what they tell you, Anne. They have to make these rules -and it’s up to us to keep them.” - -“I will now. You can trust me. Mr. Williams, you can see how it was. I -couldn’t sleep and my mind was full of this awful thing, and I thought -if I could put it on something else--get free from my thoughts even for -a few minutes!” - -Williams grunted his comprehension. He felt rather tenderly toward her, -she looked so small and wan and her voice was so pleading. - -“Where was your book?” he asked. - -“On the table behind you. I was feeling round for it and I think I -pushed it off with the lamp.” - -“What was the name of it?” - -“_Victory_, by Joseph Conrad.” - -He went to the table. His back turned, she and Bassett exchanged a long -look. Williams picked up the book and came back with it. - -“Here it is,” he said, giving it to her. “And just make a note of the -fact that you’re not to go round the house at night after books or -anything else.” - -She assured him she would not, she would give them no more trouble, -and opening the door she slipped away. They remained without speaking -till she came out on the gallery and walked to her room. Bassett stood -looking up after she had disappeared, the memory of her face as they -burst in upon her added a new peculiar distress to his harrowed state. - -“Well,” said Williams, “her book _was_ there.” - -Bassett stared at him: - -“_Was_ there! Why shouldn’t it be?” - -Williams gave an upward hitch of his shoulders: - -“Words come easy, Mr. Bassett.” - -“Good God!” exclaimed Bassett in horrified amaze. “You have any idea -she was _lying_? If you have, get it out of your head. I’ve known Miss -Tracy for three years and she could no more say what wasn’t true -than--well, she _couldn’t_, that’s all.” - -“I don’t think she did. It sounded to me a perfectly straight story.” - -“It was. You can take my word for that.” - -They were back in the library when Rawson reappeared with Shine. Shine, -unable to sleep, had been sitting by his window when Rawson, scouting, -had stopped to inquire if he had seen any one. Shine had not, but had -volunteered to join in a hunt and the two had been about the house and -the immediate vicinity. Nothing had been discovered and Patrick had -seen no sign of life or heard no sound. Now they had come back for -the electric torch and were going to extend their search. A person -concealed on the seaward side of the island might be moving at this -hour when the causeway was free. Bassett said he would go with them and -the three men left the room by one of the long windows. - -Williams opened the library door and turned off the lights. The noise -of the departing trio would suggest to any one on the watch that the -house was free of police supervision and there might be developments. -He took the desk chair as easier to rise from than the deep-seated -leather ones and settled himself to a _resumé_ of what they had so far -gathered. - -He was convinced of Mrs. Stokes’ guilt and ran over the reasons. A -hysterical woman, frantic with jealousy--that alone was enough. But -that woman had been the only member of the party who at the time of -the shooting had been some distance from the house. She had taken the -pistol with the intention of using it if an occasion offered. Her walk -had been undertaken with the hope that she might find that occasion -in the hour before supper when they were all in their rooms. The -occasion _had_ offered. Miss Saunders, unable to resist the beauty of -the evening, had gone to the Point alone. He set no store by Rawson’s -opinion that the woman’s state of mind was too genuinely distracted. -He considered it as part of a premeditated plan carried through with -nerve and skill. She would have known that the report of the pistol -would have been heard at the house. This, when Miss Saunders did not -return, would have suggested foul play. And she, Mrs. Stokes, was the -only person out on the island. A later entrance, with an assumption of -ignorance, would have turned suspicion on her like a pointing finger. -She was too intelligent for that--had called her abilities as an -actress to her aid and put them all off with her screaming excitement. - -Another point that he wanted to look into was the length of time she -had been at the shore after the report--a great deal too long for what -she said she had done. Too paralyzed to think or move, her explanation -was stunned. Williams was divided in his opinion as to that--either -pulling herself together for the grand-stand play she was to make or -possibly pushing the body into the water. - -It was at this juncture that he suddenly cocked his head and let his -hands drop softly to the arms of the chair. From the stairs outside -came a faint creak, a pause and then again, step by step a bare or -stockinged foot in gradual descent. - -The big man arose as noiselessly as he could and made for the hall. But -his bulk and his boots were not adapted to rapid movements or silent -surprise. As he reached the hall he heard the pattering flight of light -feet and cursed under his breath as he felt for the electric button. -Her room--the one he had seen Miss Pinkney put her in--was just beyond -the stair-head to the right. And her husband’s--he turned and faced the -secretive panels of its closed door. - -Williams dropped his head and trod thoughtfully back to the library, -but this time he left the hall lights on. Also he lit the library ones -and allowed himself the solace of a cigar. “She won’t try that again -to-night,” he said to himself and dropped into an easy chair. - -Then Stokes must know. They had had opportunity for private conference -in that hour after the murder when the others were out of the house. -She had either told him or he had accused her; for all they knew he -might have seen her do it. Anyway she wanted to get speech with him and -it might be support, counsel, the matching up of their stories--but -whatever it was she must have been in dire straights to take such a -risk. - -Williams smoked on, comfortably sprawled in the deep chair, thinking -out a line of attack on the Stokeses. - - - - -XI - - -THE night search of the island had given up nothing and a daylight -exploration was set for the morning. Before this, however, Rawson -wanted to go through Miss Saunders’ room, which by his orders had been -locked and left untouched. It occupied the corner of the second floor -directly above the library, the first of the long line of bedchambers -that stretched across the land front of the house. Their doors opened -upon a hall that traversed the building from end to end, its central -section forming one side of the gallery. - -In her short stay the girl seemed to have impressed the place with her -dainty charm. It was beauty’s bower, a bright and scented nest, chintz -bung, with white fur rugs on the floor and silken cushions which bore -the impress of her light weight. Steeped in the morning sun, warm and -still, it extended its welcome as if waiting for her entrance. The -signs of feminine occupation caught the eyes of the men and held them -chilled on the threshold. Enhancements of her beauty were strewn on -the bureau, the garments that had clothed her graceful body lay on the -bed where her hand had thrown them. A delicate perfume filled the air, -the fragrance of her passing habitation still lingering in ghostlike -sweetness after the living presence had gone. - -Rawson moved first, shaking off the spell. He looked into the open -wardrobe trunk, completely packed but for the last hanger. “Going to -put her costume there,” he said, touching it with his index finger. -He pulled out the drawers and ran his eye over their contents. A gray -crêpe dress lay across the foot of the bed, beside it a cloak and a -black hat with a water-lily garnishing the brim. “These,” he said, -“were the clothes left out to wear.” - -Bassett nodded. He could see Sybil in the gray dress with her hair a -golden fluff below the edge of the black hat. She had worn them on the -way up and been pleased when he had admired her costume. - -They went over the desk; a few postage stamps and a writing tablet. But -the desk had evidently not been used--the square of new blotting paper -in the carved leather holder was unmarked. The waste-paper basket only -contained a torn veil and the wrapper of a package of hair pins. On the -bed-table was a book and a candy box containing two chocolate bonbons. - -By the bureau an open bag stood on a chair. There was nothing in this -but a book, one of the many treatises on self-development and the -achievement of spiritual calm and control. Poor Sybil! Bassett turned -away with a sick heart--had she found now what she had been striving -for? - -The dressing-table was the only place in the room that her neat -arranging hand had not touched. It was covered with a litter of toilet -articles, cold-cream jars, rouge boxes, powders and scents, a silver -hand mirror, a pair of long white gloves. Williams picked up a bead -bag and opened it. It contained a wisp of handkerchief, a bunch of -keys, a lip-stick and a gold change purse. In the central compartment -were three five-dollar bills and in the gold purse one dollar and -thirty-five cents in coin. - -“This couldn’t have been all the money she had,” he queried. - -“Why not?” said Bassett. “I guess some of us haven’t that much. She -didn’t need any. All our expenses were paid and she was going straight -home. One of those bills was probably intended for Miss Pinkney.” - -Nothing more came to light. The closets were empty, the bathroom -contained a few toilet articles and a nightgown and negligée hanging on -the door. Obviously a place swept clean for a coming departure by one -who had no premonition that that departure would be final. - -They passed out and along the hall, Rawson wanting to see the -disposition of the passages and stairs. At the door next to Miss -Saunders’ he stopped, asking who occupied that room. It was vacant now -but had been Joe Tracy’s. He opened the door and looked in upon another -chintz-hung chamber, all signs of recent habitation removed that -morning by Miss Pinkney’s energetic hand. A steamer trunk in the corner -caught his attention and Bassett explained it was young Tracy’s trunk -which his sister was to take back to New York with her. - -Beyond that the hall ran into the gallery passing under an arch of -carved wood. They traversed it, looking down into the richly colored -expanse of the room below, and fared on under a companion arch into the -last stretch of the hall. At the stair-head Rawson halted: - -“Only two flights connecting with this floor, the one in the front by -the library and this. Now the top story--how do you get to that?” - -Bassett showed them a staircase at the end of the hall. He had never -been up there himself, but some one, Mrs. Cornell, he thought, had. -It was the servants’ quarters and had not been occupied during their -stay, Miss Pinkney and her helper having had rooms on the gallery. - -Later on they would take a look up there, the island was their business -now. According to Williams, all this searching was merely a formality, -and they descended the stairs conferring together. It was their -purpose to keep Stokes and his wife from any possibility of private -communication. Shine had been delegated to stay beside one or other -of them, and so far, they had made no attempts to get together. Their -amenability added to Williams’ suspicion and it was his suggestion -that they should bring Stokes with them on their hunt. When that was -finished they planned taking Mrs. Stokes to the place of the murder and -making her rehearse just what she had seen. - -Starting from the Point they explored the island foot by foot, scouting -across the open expanses where a rabbit could hardly have hidden and -prying into the hollows and rifts of the boulders on the shore. On -the sea front, wedged between miniature cliffs, there were triangles -and crescents of sand, bathing beaches with small pavilions built -against the cliffs. But no foot-prints marred the sand’s wave-beaten -smoothness, no trail of broken grass and brambles indicated the passage -of a body. The path that followed the bluff’s edge, making a detour -round the ravines, yielded neither trace nor clue. The dressing-rooms -back of the amphitheater behind a clump of cedars, gave no sign of -having harbored an alien presence. The little amphitheater itself, sunk -in its green cup, lay open to their eyes as they stood on its brink. -They walked among the stone seats, seamed with a velvet padding of -moss, and gathered up a few programs, a pair of woman’s gloves and a -necklace of blue beads. - -That brought them to the end. The house had no outbuildings; garages, -barns and sheds were in the village across the channel. There was no -one in hiding on the island. - -They found Flora, Shine and Mrs. Cornell on the balcony. As they came -up Flora looked at them and then averted her glance as if in proud -determination to show no curiosity. Rouge had been applied to her -cheeks and her dry lips were a vivid rose color. The high tints showed -ghastly on her withered skin but her dark eyes were scintillant with an -avid burning vitality. It was like a face still holding the colors and -hot warmth of youth suddenly stricken by untimely age. - -Williams, halting at the foot of the steps, told her what they -wanted--her position and Miss Saunders’ at the time of the shooting, -going over the ground and making it clear to them. She rose alertly -with a quick understanding nod--she would be glad to, it was her -earnest desire to be of help to them in any way she could. Rawson -noticed that she did not look at her husband but kept her eyes on -Williams with an intent frowning concentration, moving her head in -agreement with his instructions. - -At the shore she was eager to explain everything, took her place on the -path where she had been when she saw Sybil appear on the other side of -the hollow. Her rendering of the scene was graphic and given with much -careful detail. The men, grouped about, followed her indicating hand, -stopping her now and then with a question. Stokes stood back watching, -his face in the searching daylight smoothly yellow like a face of wax. - -Williams’ questions were many and pointed, and it soon became evident -to Bassett what he had in his mind--that her explanation of her -actions did not account for the length of time she had been on the -shore. Whether she saw it or not he could not tell; checked in her -story she would answer patiently, reiterating her first statement -that her stunned condition had robbed her of the power of thought or -motion. But he was sure Stokes had grasped the trend of the query; he -drew nearer, his flexible lips working, the hand hanging at his side -clenching and unclenching. Once he assayed to speak, a hoarse sound -throttled in escape. It pierced the strained attention she was giving -her questioners, and, for the first time, she hesitated and fumbled for -her words. - -When it was over and they returned to the house, Stokes dropped to her -side and drew her hand through his arm. She drooped against him; her -narrow body looked nerveless, as if but for his support it would have -crumpled and sunk. But he planted his feet with a hard defiance, each -step drew a ringing echo from the rocks and he held his head high. -Bassett, following them, noted his rigid carriage, and when he turned -his profile, the wide nostril spread like that of a winded horse. - -There was a ghastly lunch. The men of the law ate greedily and without -words. Shine was ashamed that he had any appetite and tried to appease -it with bread which he could extract from the plate in front of him -without notice. There was almost no speech. Miss Pinkney, executing her -duties with an automatic precision, did what waiting was necessary, and -her voice, inquiring their needs and proffering second helpings, broke -desolate expanses of silence. - -When it was over Williams and Rawson took up the trail again. They -were now going to direct their attention to the Point, especially the -summer-house, from which a path led to the summit of the bluff whence -Sybil had fallen. Bassett, who had hoped to get a word with Anne, was -bidden to join them, and the three left the house step by step tracing -the passage of the dead girl. - -They began with the pine grove. Needles carpeted the ground, slippery -smooth, a beaten trail winding between the tree trunks. Beyond it the -path ascended the bare slope to the summer-house. “No place to hide -here,” Rawson said. “The murderer, if Mrs. Stokes’ story is true, was -either in the open or in the summer-house.” They paused, moved on, bent -for a closer scrutiny of the dry grass, searched for an imprint in the -pebbled walk. Secretive as the rest of the island, the way divulged -nothing. Sybil’s light foot had made no faintest mark, she had gone to -her death leaving no track nor trace. - -The summer-house, a small, six-sided building, was covered by a thick -growth of Virginia creeper that swathed its rustic shape. In four of -its walls the vines, matted into a mantle of green, had been cut away -to form windows. Framed in these squares sea and land views were like -pictures brilliantly bright from the shaded interior. The other two -sides held the entrances, one giving on the path that descended to the -pine grove, one to its continuation to the Point. A circular seat ran -round the walls and a table in the same bark-covered wood was the only -movable piece of furniture. This was drawn up against the seat at one -side. Rawson moved it out as the other two ran exploring eyes over the -walls, the door-sills and the floor of wooden planking upon which a few -leaves were scattered. - -“Here,” he cried suddenly. “What’s this?” and drew from a crevice where -the legs crossed, some scraps of a coarse gold material. - -He held them up against the light of the opening--three short strands -of what might have been the gilt string used to tie Christmas packages. - -“What do you know about this?” he said, offering them to Bassett’s -gaze. - -Bassett looked, and Williams with craned neck and lifted brows looked -too. They were exactly of a length, broken filaments of thread attached -to the end of each. - -“They’ve been torn off something,” Rawson indicated the threads, -“caught in that joint of the table legs and pulled off. Did she have -anything like this on her dress anywhere, a trimming or----” - -“Fringe,” Bassett interrupted, “the fringe on her sash.” - -“Ah!” Rawson could not hide his exultation. “_Now_ we’ve got something -we can get our teeth into.” - -“Yes.” Bassett took the pieces and studied them in the light. “That’s -what it is. She wore a wide sash round her waist with ends that hung -down edged with gold fringe. This is a bit of it.” - -“Well,” said Williams, “that’s a starter anyhow. She was in here.” - -Rawson sat on the bench and drew the table into its former position: - -“It not only proves she was in here, but it proves a good deal more. -This is the way she was, with the table as we found it close in front -of her. The ends of her sash would have been in contact with the table -legs. Now she jumped up quickly--do you get that? If she’d gone slow or -had time to think she’d have felt the pull and unloosed the sash--but -she sprang up, didn’t notice.” He looked from one to the other, his -lean face alight. - -“Frightened,” said Bassett. - -“So frightened she didn’t feel it, and moved with such force she tore -the fringe off. That scare took her up from the seat and sent her -flying through the doorway for the Point.” - -“Hold on now,” said Williams. “If she was as scared as that why didn’t -she go for the house where there were people?” - -“Because she was too scared to think. Some one with a pistol was on the -other side of the table.” He rose and went to the entrance facing the -Point. “And the person with the pistol shot at her from here--winged -her as she ran.” He turned to Bassett. “That’s why you saw no one when -you looked out after you first heard the shot. The murderer was in here -lying low.” - -“Yes.” Bassett thought back over the moment when he had stood in the -living-room doorway. “That’s the only place he could have been or I’d -have seen him. But they wouldn’t have been any time together--couldn’t -have had a quarrel or a scene. According to Mrs. Cornell it was only -six or seven minutes after she saw Sybil go out that she heard the -shot. That would give them only two or three minutes in here.” - -“Time enough to draw a gun and back it up with a few sentences. It -bears out what I’ve thought from the start--not an accidental meeting -but a date, to which the woman came unsuspecting and the other primed -to kill.” - -“Then Mrs. Stokes got on to that date,” said Williams, “and broke -in on it. And there’s only one person that date could have been -with--Stokes.” - -Bassett’s nerves were raw with strain and anxiety. This reiteration of -a rendezvous with Stokes maddened him: - -“But it couldn’t have been. I’ve told you. I knew Miss Saunders well. -I know what she felt about the man, and besides I have the evidence -of my own eyes that she avoided him in every way she could. Make an -appointment to meet him alone! She’d as soon make an appointment with -Satan.” - -Neither of the men answered him for a moment. Williams regarded his -sentiment with respect. He had been a friend of the dead girl’s and -it was natural he should stand up for her, whether rightly or wrongly -Williams was not yet sure. Rawson was impressed; he had formed a high -opinion of the director’s candor and truthfulness and his words weighed -with him: - -“I go a good deal by what you say, Mr. Bassett, and as to this meeting -of which I’m convinced--whom it was with I don’t know. Williams here -has made up his mind and worked out his case. I don’t agree with -him. I believe Mrs. Stokes is telling the truth. What she says hangs -together all right. I think her explanation of the passage of time when -she was on the shore is entirely plausible. That she may know something -is possible, but I don’t think she’s guilty.” - -“Then you must think it’s Stokes,” said Williams with some heat. -“There’s nobody else it could be.” - -Rawson considered before he spoke: - -“I don’t see Stokes as deliberately murdering the woman he was in love -with. That’s generally an act of impulse, sudden desperation. And -there was no impulse here. Careful premeditation--the stealing of the -revolver, luring her to this summer-house, the threats or rage when she -got here that made her fly. It’s more like the working out of revenge -than the act of blind passion. Stokes doesn’t look to me the kind of -man that would kill so carefully. He’s too soft.” - -“Then who is it?” Williams exclaimed. “Somebody killed her.” - -Rawson moved toward the doorway: - -“That’s about all I’m willing to agree to at present. But I’d like to -see Stokes again. He and his wife may know more than they say--I don’t -deny _that_--but she’s got a better nerve than he has. We’ll get him -into the library and have a whack at him.” - - - - -XII - - -BASSETT was detailed to find Stokes and bring him to the library. -A summons from the director would have an air of informality which -might put Stokes off his guard. Rawson did not communicate this to his -messenger, but told Williams when they were alone. He had been watching -Stokes and thought the man showed signs of strain. That morning at the -beach Stokes’ manner and appearance had suggested a nerve tension which -might rise from anxiety about his wife, but might also be the result of -some knowledge he was struggling to withhold. - -Bassett found Flora and Shine on the balcony and heard that Stokes had -gone to his room to try to get some sleep. He knocked on the door and -to a gruff “Come in” entered to find Stokes lying on the bed. He rose -quickly, exhibiting the same alacrity his wife had shown earlier in -the day. - -“Of course,” he said. “I’m ready to come whenever they want me. In fact -I’ve been lying here expecting it, going back over last evening, trying -to think of anything I may have overlooked that might help them.” - -There was a willing bruskness in his manner, an almost hearty readiness -to do what was asked of him that seemed not quite genuine, adopted, -perhaps, to hide the natural nervousness of a person in his position. -Seated in an easy chair before the two men, Bassett back of them by -the window noticed that his hands were restless, smoothing and pulling -at his clothes, settling his tie. Despite his disquiet he assumed an -attitude of expectant attention, gravely awaiting their will, his eyes -glancing from one face to the other. He might readily have been a -guilty man primed for attack, or an innocent one shaken by the untoward -circumstances in which he found himself. - -Rawson’s manner was friendly and reassuring. They wanted to get all -possible information on the movements of the company the evening -before. Last night the examinations had been cursory and fuller ones -were necessary. They would like to know just what he had done from the -time he entered the house to change his clothes to the time when he had -heard the shot. - -He answered promptly with businesslike directness. Went to his room, -changed his clothes, laid on the bed resting for a while, then sat on -the balcony reading the paper. - -While he was sitting there Miss Saunders must have passed the end of -the balcony by the path that led to the Point. - -She must have, but he had not seen her, being occupied with his paper. - -Had he while in the house seen Miss Saunders or heard her voice? - -He had not. He had no idea she had come in. - -Had he seen his wife? - -“My wife? Yes, I saw her for a moment. In the hall when I came out of -our room after dressing.” - -“Did she tell you she was going to take a walk round the island?” - -“Well, I hardly remember.” He tilted his head sidewise with an air of -careful consideration. “Yes, I believe she did say something about -it--it’s very vague in my mind. It made no impression on me. We -exchanged a few words and parted.” - -“She said nothing to you about Miss Saunders being in the house?” - -“Why no, she didn’t know it. We didn’t mention Miss Saunders at all.” - -“But she was--she had been--a frequent subject of conversation between -you?” - -His eyes, looking at Rawson, seemed to harden and grow more fixed: - -“We _had_ talked of her--naturally being in the same company.” - -“Your wife and Miss Saunders were not very friendly?” - -A fierce light rose in the fixed eyes, the nostrils widened. - -“What are you getting at, Mr. Rawson?” - -“Our business, Mr. Stokes. We’re here to investigate a murder and we -can’t spare people’s feelings or shut our eyes to disagreeable facts.” - -“Have I shown any signs of expecting that? I’ve put myself at your -disposal, my wife has. We’re ready to give you any help we can, but I’m -not ready to back up any damned suspicions that have been put into your -mind.” - -“We’re not asking you to,” said Rawson. “But we know what was going on -here before the shooting.” - -Bassett spoke up: - -“I’m the person that told them, Aleck. It had to be done. They had to -be acquainted with the whole situation, and they got it from me. But -they heard no lies, no suppositions--you know you can trust me for -that.” - -Stokes’ glance shifted to him. Through its savage defiance Bassett -could detect the torment of his soul, despairingly betrayed to the one -person he knew would be just. - -“Oh, I’m not blaming you,” he answered: “You couldn’t do anything -else. And they can hear it all from me.” He looked at the two men. “I -don’t want to keep anything back. You don’t have to use any of your -third-degree methods with me. I’m willing to tell. I was in love with -her, madly, like a fool, hounded her, dogged her footsteps. You’ve -heard that. And my wife was jealous--so jealous they all could see. -You’ve heard that too.” - -The confession of his passion, remorseless in its bitter revelation, -was horrible, like the tearing aside of wrappings from a raw wound. - -“Yes, we’ve heard it,” muttered Williams. - -“She hated me. I don’t know whether you’ve heard that too, but I’m -telling you and perhaps you’ll believe what I say if it’s against -myself. She hated me, and I wouldn’t let her alone. My wife was -jealous. Do you see--is it clear? Oh, we’re in damned bad, my wife and -I, but we’re not in so bad as you’re trying to make out.” He jumped to -his feet, the shine of sweat on his forehead. - -“I don’t see, Mr. Stokes,” said Rawson quietly, “where you get that. We -haven’t made out anything yet.” - -“Oh, I can see. We were the only people outside the house--that’s -enough to build a theory on. And motives--who had a motive? That’s the -way you go to work. Find a motive, fit some one to it. My wife had a -motive, that’s sufficient. Don’t ask what kind of woman she is, don’t -look any further, you have to get some one and she’s the easiest. -Christ!” he cried, throwing out his arms with a dramatic gesture, “it -would make the gods laugh!” - -“Mr. Stokes, if you’d take this calmly----” - -“Calmly! Seeing what you think and where you’re trying to land us! But -just let me ask you something.” He thrust his head forward, the chin -advanced, the eyebrows in arched semicircles rising almost to his hair. -“Do you happen to remember there were five hundred people on the island -that afternoon? Any kind of person could have been here on any kind of -errand.” - -Rawson answered with a slight show of impatience: - -“Just leave our business to us, Mr. Stokes. You’re here to answer -questions.” - -“Oh, that’s plain--questions all pointing one way. But there were other -people on the island besides that crowd--besides us--who might have had -a motive. Isn’t anger a motive?” - -He projected the sentence with a malevolent force, the words enunciated -with an actor’s incisive diction. - -“Anger!” ejaculated Williams. “Where does that come in?” - -“Here, on Gull Island. Oh, we’ve had more than jealousy. Rage and spite -will go as far. Take your eyes off my wife and me for a moment--look -somewhere else.” - -Rawson’s face showed no surprise, blankly inscrutable, but Williams -wheeled in his chair and turned an expression of startled inquiry on -Bassett. Bassett, in his turn, was staring in astonishment at Stokes. - -“What are you talking about?” he said. “Rage and spite--whom do you -mean?” - -“I mean Joe Tracy,” was the answer. - -“Joe Tracy!” exclaimed Williams, looking vaguely about in a baffled -searching of memory. “Who’s he?” - -“Good God, Aleck!” Bassett made a step forward: “Get a hold on -yourself--think of what you’re saying. He wasn’t here, he’d left the -island before that.” - -Stokes paid no attention but went on, glaring into Rawson’s -expressionless face: - -“A damned devil of a boy with a record. Ask him,” he pointed to -Bassett, “ask any of them what kind he was and how he acted here. It -isn’t I alone that saw it. Yesterday morning at the rehearsal he’d have -struck her if Bassett hadn’t interfered. What was the matter--I don’t -know. I don’t pretend to know everything, but I know rage and hate when -I see them.” - -“Aleck, you’re crazy,” Bassett’s voice was raised in exasperated -insistence: “He’d _gone_.” - -“Couldn’t he come back? Aren’t there boats to be hired at Hayworth?” -He turned to Rawson. “I don’t accuse him, I’m not like you, I don’t -jump at conclusions, point and say ‘There’s the murderer!’ But I want -a square deal and I won’t get it till you’ve looked up Joe Tracy. -Call your dogs back from the scent they’re on and put them on his. -Justice--that’s all I ask for--justice for my wife. For myself----” -He stopped. His excitement seemed suddenly to die. He looked old and -wearied, his body relaxed, the fire in his sunken eyes extinguished in -a profound gloom. “It doesn’t matter what happens to me. I’ve thrown -everything away--and Sybil’s dead.” - -There was a slight pause. Rawson broke it, clearing his throat and -rising from his chair: - -“That’s enough for the time being, Mr. Stokes. You can go now, if we -want you we’ll call on you later!” - -Without a word Stokes turned and left the room. When the door had -closed on him Bassett said: - -“He’s out of his mind--Joe Tracy--when he knows he wasn’t here.” - -Williams gave a bearish shrug: - -“Oh, pshaw, what’s the matter with him’s easy to size up. Breaking -down, losing his nerve. Whether he knows his wife did it or not he sees -everything points there and he’s just laying hold of anything to mark -time. They go like that--I’ve seen ’em before.” - -Rawson, who had been standing with his hands deep in his pockets and -his eyes fixed on the floor, moved to the chair: - -“Let’s hear about this boy, Mr. Bassett--all this anger and hate -business he’s been buzzing round.” - -He sat down and lit a cigar. Through the smoke he watched Bassett -with a narrowed glance as the director unfolded the story of Joe, the -quarrel and Sybil’s accusation. - -When it was over Rawson knocked the ash from his cigar, meditatively -looking at the crumbling gray heap: - -“Are you under the impression, Mr. Bassett, that her story was -true--that the boy _had_ been spying on her?” - -“I don’t know. Of course she was in a high-keyed emotional state that -might engender unjust suspicions. On the other hand you couldn’t trust -his word, and there was big money offered.” - -“And when you returned to New York you would have found it out.” - -“Yes, I told him that.” - -“And he would have realized that it would go hard with him, where you -were concerned, and with the rest of the profession?” - -“Yes, he’d know. She was very popular and there was a general sympathy -for her. Any one acting against her interests would have met with a -pretty cold reception.” - -Williams stretched and rose from his chair: - -“Well, it’s all right to gather up everything, but it doesn’t get us -any further. If the boy’d been here, seeing what he was and how he -felt, there might be something in it. But as he got out before the -shooting it leaves us just where we were before. What do you think -about going up and looking over that top story--routine business we -ought to get through.” - -“Not now,” Rawson moved to the door. “I’m going across to the mainland.” - -“Mainland--what’s that for?” - -“Look up some things--that boy’s movements for one. I’ll take Patrick -and the launch and send him right back. The causeway’s covered so we -don’t need him there. If Mr. Driscoll ever wanted to sell this place -I’d recommend it for a penitentiary, save the state some money, only -want guards twice in twenty-four hours. Come down to the dock with me, -Mr. Bassett, and tell me which way Tracy was going.” - -Bassett went with him feeling for the first time that he could give -information with the tranquillizing assurance it would react on nobody. -When he left Rawson at the dock he went to look for Anne. - - - - -XIII - - -TO THE outside eye Anne had presented no more dolorous and dejected -an aspect than any of the others. If she could not eat, neither could -they, and if she sat sunk in somber gloom they either did the same or -gave expression to their nerve-wracked state by breathless outbursts of -speech. No one, not even Bassett, noticed that Anne’s demeanor was in -any way other than what might have been expected. - -Had they been able to see into her mind the group at Gull Island would -have received its second staggering shock. - -She kept as much to herself as she could without rousing curiosity. She -had to think and to be alone where she would focus her thoughts, hold -them trained on what she knew and what might develop. She wanted to -keep her mind on the main issue, inhibit any fruitless speculations, -wait and be ready. Joe was on the island and with the guarded causeway -would stay on the island till after they had gone. Her hope, giving her -strength to go through the automatic actions of behavior, was, that -suspicion not being directed to him, he could lie hidden till they left -and then make his get-a-way. She knew that Gabriel had gone to White -Beach for a week’s deep-sea fishing, and Gabriel was the one person -besides herself who knew that Joe had not crossed to the mainland. They -surely would be moved away before a week and if, during that time, the -belief that he had gone remained unshaken, he was safe. - -So far she was confident that no suspicion had touched him. She did -not see how it could. They were all satisfied that he had left, her -answer to Rawson had been accepted in good faith. There would be no -investigating of his movements for there would be no reason for doing -it. He had passed outside the circle of the tragedy, was eliminated as -the actors were who had gone on the earlier boat. - -If they didn’t find him! - -Where was he? He had entered the living-room by the door that led to -the kitchen wing and rear staircase. That would look as if he was in -the house. But she knew that no doors were locked on Gull Island and -that he might have come from outside, choosing a passage through the -darkened building rather than expose himself to the moonlight. If -he was in the house he must be in the vacant top story and she was -certain--every sound of heavy footsteps had been noted by her listening -ears--that the men had not been there yet. That would argue that they -felt no need of hurry. Were they taking things in a leisurely way -because of their assurance that no one could escape, or were they so -convinced they had their quarry that no further search was necessary? -What conclusions were they coming to behind the closed doors of the -library--had they fixed on some one of the party, the obvious ones, -Flora or Stokes? - -She checked these disintegrating surmises, drew her mind back with a -fierce tug of will. That would come later. If Joe got away she would -tell, confess it all, go to jail. It didn’t matter, what happened then. -Only what was here before her counted now. - -When the search of the island started she went up to the side of the -gallery that skirted the line of windows. From there she could command -the whole seaward sweep of its ten acres. She would be alone here, -secure against intrusion; she could drop her mask, let her face show -what it might, not watch from beneath her eyelids for the questioning -looks she dreaded. - -The group of men came into her line of vision, moving across the flat -land between the house and the ocean. She sat crouched, watching with -set jaw. Presently they dropped over the edges of the cliffs, then -inarticulate surges of prayer rose in her, blind pleadings; and, her -hands clasped against her breast, she rocked back and forth as if in -unassuagable pain. But they always reappeared without him, went down -again, came up, scrambling through the stony mouths of ravines--always -without him. When they returned to the house, she fell back in the -chair, her eyes closed, whispering broken words of thanksgiving. - -With her breath and her voice under control she went down-stairs. She -knew now that he must be in the house. - -After lunch she drifted out on the balcony with the others and from -there saw Bassett and the two officers of the law go down the path to -the pine grove. Following Sybil’s movements on the Point--that would -take them some time. Mrs. Cornell said she was going to the kitchen -to help Miss Pinkney (if it wasn’t for that work she thought she’d go -crazy), and she advised Anne to go up-stairs and lie down. - -“You look like the wrath of God, honey,” she said, hooking her hand -through Anne’s arm and drawing her with her. “You can’t sleep, no one -expects that of you. But stretch out on the bed and relax--you get some -sort of rest that way.” - -Anne went with her, Mrs. Cornell’s step dropping to a crawling pace as -they crossed the living-room, her arm drawing Anne closer, her hearty -voice dwindled to a whisper: - -“Do you know anything?” - -“No, how should I?” - -“I listen all I can but they’re as tight as clams when we’re around. I -think they’ve got a hungry sort of look as if they were on some trail. -Haven’t you noticed it?” - -Anne hadn’t noticed anything. - -“Well, I have. I sit there slumped together and acting helpless, but -I’m not like the Foolish Virgins--my lamps are lit.” - -“Do you think they have any one in mind?” - -“They have two, dearie, as we all have.” They had reached the door -and she opened it warily. “And one moment I’m thinking it’s one and -the next moment I’m thinking it’s the other and the third moment I’m -thinking it’s neither of them.” - -They passed through the doorway and went down the hall, stopping at the -foot of the stairs. Mrs. Cornell offered a last consoling word: - -“You can be thankful for one thing, Anne, Joe’s not being here.” - -“Joe?” - -“Oh, I’m not saying he had anything to do with it. But these cases--you -read about them in the papers. Every little thing traced up. And she -and Joe having been at loggerheads they’d be pouncing on that--not -telling you anything, sending up your blood pressure with their -questions. You’re spared that and it’s worth keeping your mind on. -Nothing so bad but what it might be worse.” - -She went on down the hall. Anne, on the stairs, waited till she heard -the sound of the opening door and Miss Pinkney’s welcoming voice, -then she stole upward very softly. She did not go to her room as Mrs. -Cornell had advised, but tiptoed to the end of the hall where the -staircase led to the top story. - -She ascended with delicate carefulness letting her weight come -gradually on each step. Despite her precautions the boards creaked. The -sounds seemed portentously loud in the deep quiet and she stopped for -the silence to absorb them, and then, with chary foot, went on. At the -top she stood, subduing her deep-drawn breaths, looking, listening. - -The middle of the floor was occupied by a spacious central hall -furnished as a parlor and lit by a skylight. Giving on it were -numerous small bedrooms, the doors open. They were like rows of neat -little cells, all the same, bed, dresser, rocking-chair, with a white -curtained window in the outer wall. The windows were open, the sashes -raised half-way, and the fresh sweet air passing through fanned -the muslin curtains back and forth in curved transparencies. Anne -remembered Miss Pinkney saying something about opening the top-floor -windows to air the servants’ quarters before the house was closed for -the season. - -The stirrings of the curtains, billowing out and drooping, were the -only movements in the place. She moved to the middle of the room and -sent her voice out in a whisper: - -“Joe, Joe--are you here? It’s Anne.” - -Her ears were strained for an answering whisper, her eyes swept about -for a shape creeping into view, but the silence was unbroken, the -emptiness undisturbed. She entered the rooms, peered about, opened -cupboards, looked for signs of occupation. Again nothing--vacancy, dust -in a film on the bureau tops, beds untouched in meticulous smoothness. - -One door was closed, near the stair-head. Opening this she looked into -a store-room, a large, dark interior lit by two small windows. They -were dust grimed, and the light came in dimly, showing upturned trunks -and boxes, pieces of furniture, lines of clothes hanging on the walls. - -“Here,” she thought, and with her heart leaping in her throat, crossed -the threshold: - -“Joe, it’s Anne. I’ve come to help you.” - -Nothing stirred in the encumbered space, no stealthy body detached -itself from the shadows. - -“Oh, answer me if you’re there!” Her voice rose the shade of a tone. -It came back from the raftered roof in smothered supplication; the -silence it had severed closed again, deep and secretive. - -She feared to stay longer and slipped, wraith-like, down the stairs. In -her room she sat down and considered. He must have been there. Where -else could he be unless in one of the unoccupied apartments in the -lower floors. But he hardly would have dared that with people coming -and going. He had been afraid, doubted her as he had always done, -or possibly found a hiding-place too shut away for her whisper to -penetrate. To-night she would have to get food to him, take it up when -the men were in the library and the others safe in their rooms. - -She could do nothing more and went down-stairs in the hope of seeing -Bassett. Since morning she had longed for a word with him. Through the -darkling obsession of her fears he loomed as the one loved and familiar -being in a world where she fared in solitary dread. Not that she had -any idea of telling him, the direful secret was hers alone to be -confessed later on some awful day of reckoning and retribution. But she -wanted to see him, get courage from his presence, feel the solace of -his arm about her. She was so lonely with her intolerable burden. - -The living-room was empty, but listening at the hall door she heard the -murmur of men’s voices in the library. They were in conference again -and might be long. She passed out into the garden and sank down on one -of the benches. The air had grown chilly and a little wandering breeze -was abroad. It moved among the flowers and sent shivers down the great -wisteria vine trained up the house wall and ascending to the chimneys. -She looked at it, its drooping foliage; stirred by a quivering unrest, -showing the fibrous branches intertwined like ropes--an old vine such -as city dwellers seldom see. She tried to fix her attention on it, -picturing it when the blossoms hung in lilac cascades, a riot of color -from ground to roof. But her mind was like the needle in the compass, -inevitably swinging back to the same point. - -There were clouds in the sky, hurrying white masses driving inland -and carrying the breath of fog. They had blotted out the sun and were -sweeping their torn edges over the blue. If they kept on it would be -dark to-night--no moon--but there was the man at the causeway. - -She sat with drooped head immersed in thought, her hands thrust into -the pockets of her sweater. It was thus that Bassett found her. Life -leaped into her face at his voice and she stretched a hand toward him. - -“Oh, I’ve been hoping to see you,” she breathed, already trained to a -low wariness of tone. - -The words, the gesture, pierced his heart. She looked so disconsolate, -so wan, her face the pallor of ivory, her black hair always shining -smooth, pushed back from her brow in roughened strands. He had charged -himself to keep from her any knowledge of the interest in Joe, but had -he been of the loose-tongued sort that unburdened itself, the sight of -her devastated beauty would have sealed his lips. - -He sat down beside her and took her hand in his. In her turn she had -been shocked by his appearance, worn, his ruddy firm-fleshed face riven -with lines. - -“I thought I was never going to get a word with you,” he said. “This is -the first moment I’ve had. How are you?” - -She asserted her well-being, and he studied her face with anxious eyes. - -“Dear Anne,” he murmured, and lifting her hand, pressed it to his lips. -The two hands remained together, the woman’s upcurled inside the man’s -enveloping grasp. - -“That faint feeling last night, I suppose that will bleach you out for -a while?” - -“Oh, I’m all over that. It was a crazy thing for me to do, going down -and then knocking the lamp over. They didn’t think anything of it, did -they?” - -“Anything of it? Why no, what would they think? You explained it to -them and they were satisfied with what you said. And afterward I told -Williams that he could absolutely trust your word.” - -“I gave a great deal of trouble and----” Her voice was husky and she -cleared her throat. He was worried by the coldness of her hand and -sought to warm it by enclosing it more tightly in his. After a moment -she went on: - -“I suppose you can’t tell me anything--anything of what they’re doing?” - -“No. It’s all a mess so far--feeling about in the dark--nothing sure.” - -“But they must be feeling about after some one?” - -“Darling, what’s the good of talking about it? It’s only going round -and round the same subject like a squirrel in a cage. We don’t get many -minutes together and we don’t want to spoil them. Let’s try to forget -just while we’re here.” - -“Forget!” she exclaimed. “Nothing would make me do that but being dead -myself.” - -She leaned her head on his shoulder and drew her hand from his to clasp -it round his arm. He said nothing for a moment, perturbed by her words -and tone. He had thought of getting her away, having her moved to -Hayworth. Now he felt he must do it at once, the shadow of the tragedy -was too dark on her spirit. - -“I’ve got to get her out of here if I go to jail for it,” he said to -himself. “She can’t stand much more of this.” - -She too was silent for a space, stilled by the attack of a sudden -temptation. His tenderness had weakened her, the gulf between them -seemed too much to bear when the way was so perilous to travel alone. -She wanted to be close to him again, break down the barriers and extend -her arms to him for succor and support. He would calm the upwellings -of terror that rose in her, perhaps have some man’s solution for her -desperate problem. The desire to tell him gripped her, undermined -her will like a disintegrating drug. She did not dare to broach it -suddenly, sense enough remained in her to go carefully, step by step. - -“I wonder if any one here _does_ know something and is keeping it back.” - -“It may be--too frightened to speak.” - -“Well, if they did--I mean something that looks suspicious, might be a -help--they’d be expected to tell, wouldn’t they?” - -“If it were anything definite. Just to take up their time with a lot -of vague surmises is the last thing they want. People get stampeded in -a case like this, butt in with all sorts of silly leads and theories.” -He gave her an uneasy side glance. “Are you imagining that you know -something you ought to tell?” - -“No, oh, no. But I keep thinking of it, all kinds of possibilities.” - -“Can’t you stop thinking of it? I wish you would.” - -“Oh, Hugh, how can any one? It fills up your mind so that nothing -else can get in. It would be so terrible to have to confess something -against another person.” - -He nodded and murmured, “Terrible, all right.” - -“I don’t see how one could do it. Now, you, if you were in that -position--had suspicions of some one?” - -“I don’t tell them, that’s not my province. I’m here to assist, not to -direct them.” - -“Just say what you’re sure of?” - -“Exactly. What I know, what I can vouch for as fact. I wish to God I -_could_ furnish some that would lead us in the right direction.” - -She said nothing, her cheek against his shoulder, her head bent down -till her face was hidden from him. He looked at the grass at his feet -in harassed survey of his obligation: - -“I’m the only person here they know anything about, that they care -to trust. It’s a devilish position, trying to hide what you think, -trying to state only what you know, fairly, without personal feeling -or prejudice. But it’s up to me to do it till we round up something. I -don’t want to get anybody in wrong, but, good lord, if I knew any one -was--didn’t guess, was _sure_ of it--I’d give the information up just -as quick as I could get across to that library.” - -Her hope was over and she saw now how wild it had been. With a heart -like stone she sat by him, feeling the contact of his body, his arm -pressed against her side, knowing herself as far removed from his -comfort and help as though an ocean lay between them. - -The light in the garden was fading, an even soft dusk was gathering. -There were no splendors of sunset to-night, day was dying without -ceremonial rites. The hurrying clouds had thickened and were a sagging -gray pall with rays of fog drifting below. Suddenly the doorway of the -living-room sprang into the dimness, an illumined square, and Miss -Pinkney was visible moving about lighting the lamps. - -“No moon to-night,” said Bassett, and getting up, drew her to her feet. -“Come, let’s go in. It’s too chilly for you out here.” - -It was not till they had gathered round the supper table that Rawson’s -absence was revealed. Miss Pinkney, coming in with the teapot, saw the -empty chair and frowned. Though subdued, her spirit was not broken, and -she could not tamely submit to these minions of the law disregarding -the meal hours. - -“Is Mr. Rawson coming to his supper?” she remarked with an acid note. - -“Mr. Rawson’s away on business,” Williams answered. “You can keep -something for him.” - -No more was said and the meal proceeded on its dismal way. - - - - -XIV - - -AFTER supper Bassett and Williams retired to the library. They were -surprised and intrigued by the length of Rawson’s absence. He had been -gone over two hours and what could have held him on the mainland so -long was difficult to imagine unless a new lead had developed. This -was Bassett’s idea, also his hope. To have suspicion lifted from Flora -would be the first lightening of the grinding distress he had felt -since the murder. Williams wondered if he could have come on anything -about Joe Tracy; but Bassett shook the suggestion off with a shrug. He -could check up on Joe in half an hour; besides, there was nothing to be -looked for in that line. His confidence was not assumed, his mind was -untroubled by any fears about Joe. That something had turned up which -might head the chase in a new direction was so encouraging a thought, -that, by contrast to his sensations for the last twenty-four hours, he -felt almost cheerful. - -In the relaxation of the strain he was conscious of fatigue for the -first time. He threw himself on the sofa and in a moment had sunk into -the deep deathlike sleep of exhaustion. Williams, sitting near the -telephone also nodded, his big body sagged together in the chair, his -chin embedded in his chest. - -The group in the living-room, viewed by the uninformed spectator, -might have been the usual evening gathering of an informal Gull Island -house-party. They had shut the garden door against draughts and with -the inland entrance open wide the place was scented with a sharp sea -tang and cool with the breath of the ocean. The tide, full-brimming, -lay a dark circle about them, no moonlit path or silvered eddies -to-night, the channel a solid swath of black between them and the -clustering shore lights. - -They made a deceptively quiet picture, pleasant, agreeable-looking -people resting in reposeful attitudes after a day in the open air. -Shine was looking at a book of engravings spread on the end of the -table. Mrs. Cornell had brought in Miss Pinkney after the business of -washing up--Mrs. Cornell found Miss Pinkney’s society so fortifying -that she sought it at all hours--and together they made a feint of -playing a double solitaire. Anne and Flora sat near by reclining in -armchairs, both silent, with the fixed eyes of preoccupation. Stokes -was the sole member of the company whose inner unrest broke out in -movement. He paced back and forth before the fireplace, quick long -strides over the bear rug to the hall door and back again. Once or -twice the edge of the rug caught his toe and he kicked it out of his -way with a violent angry jerk of his foot. - -When the minutes ticked away and no one came to overlook or overhear, -a cautious trickle of talk began to flow. Question and answer crossed, -low-toned, interrupted by warning looks at the hall door. Where had -Rawson gone, what could he be after? That the question lay uppermost -in all their minds was shown by the quick response to the first, -murmured tentative, the comprehension of sentences left unfinished -with only the query in the eyes to point their meaning. The drooping -attitudes gave place to a tense eagerness of pose, heads thrust forward -on craned necks. Shine forgot his book, the cards lay scattered beneath -the hands of Mrs. Cornell and Miss Pinkney, and Flora edged her chair -closer. Their voices, hushed by fears, were fused in a murmurous hum, -rising as the subject swept their interest higher, checked in sudden -minutes of listening alarm. - -Rawson must have got hold of some information, gone afield on a -new clue. Then followed speculations, surmises, suggestions--wild, -fantastic, probable. It might have been nothing Shine thought, simply -a trip to the county-seat on business connected with the case. At this -Anne crept into the circle of lamplight, nodding an avid agreement. -Stokes coming forward caught his foot in the edge of the bear rug, -stumbled and broke into a stream of curses. Miss Pinkney, who thought -oaths anywhere reprehensible and on Gull Island profanation, grimly -bade him lift his feet. He glared at her, more curses imminent, and -Flora groaned, clutching the arms of her chair and rolling her eyes -upward. - -“For God’s sake don’t mind anything anybody says,” implored Mrs. -Cornell slapping her hands down among the cards. “This is a murder -case, not a social function.” - -They calmed down and presently, with no more ideas to exchange, grew -silent listening for the returning launch. It was a listening so wrapt -that the room became as still as a picture and they as motionless as -pictured figures. The ticking of the clock was audible, the sucking -clinking sounds of the water along the shore. The significance of what -they awaited grew with the minutes till the coming of the launch seemed -an event of fearful import upon which their fates hung. - -The entrance of Williams shook them from their terrors. If his face -told them nothing, his manner was kindly gruff--they must be tired, -best thing for them to go to bed. As they rose and trailed limply to -the doors he beckoned Shine to remain. He would want him later, had a -job for him, so he’d better go now and get some sleep. His room was on -that floor, the butler’s? All right, he’d find him. Shine departed, -grateful. He was half-dead with sleep, but had kept it hidden as he -had his hunger, regarding both as unmanly weaknesses in the hour of -calamity. - -Williams went back to the library where Bassett still slept. He looked -at his watch--a quarter to nine. He couldn’t understand it--what -could Rawson have got hold of on the mainland when it was as plain as -printing Mrs. Stokes was the guilty party. He started and moved to the -window; the throbbing beat of an engine came through the silence, a low -spark of light was advancing from the opposite shore. - -When he heard the boat grinding against the wharf he waked Bassett. - -“Rawson’s coming. And it’s nearly nine.” - -Rawson came in by the window, his eyes blinking in the room’s -brightness. He came briskly, with something of theatrical effect in -his silent entrance, his purposeful walk to the desk. Bassett at once -noticed a change in him, a suggestion of enhanced forces, of faculties -recharged with energy. He tried to look stern but satisfaction shone in -his eyes and lit his long lantern-jawed face. He was like the bearer of -good tidings who would have worn the high smile of triumph if a smile -were fitting. - -“Well,” said Williams, “where the devil have you been?” - -“Down the coast, twenty-five miles, on roads that would have put -anything but a flivver out of commission.” - -“You got something?” - -“I did--this time. We’re on the right track now if I’m not much -mistaken.” - -Williams gave an incredulous grunt. He did not believe in new material -and in advance placed himself in stubborn opposition: - -“What did you go down the coast for?” - -“To find a man called Gabriel Harvey.” - -Bassett, about to sit down, stopped in surprise: - -“Gabriel Harvey?-- That’s our launchman.” - -“Exactly. And I had a devil of a time to find him. Down in a place -called White Beach, hidden away with friends in a shack without a -telephone.” - -“But why----” - -“I’ll tell you.” Rawson dropped into the desk chair, and, his elbows -on the arms, leaned forward, his eyes behind their glasses traveling -from one face to the other. “I went over there to look into Joe Tracy’s -movements. I couldn’t find any one who’d seen him come ashore and -learned that the man Gabriel who took him over, had gone to this place -White Beach for deep-sea fishing. Not being able to get hold of him I -went to the station to see if I could gather up anything. And I did. -The baggage man told me Gabriel had been there before he left for White -Beach leaving a suit-case and fishing-rod to be held till Tracy called -for them. They’re there now. I saw them.” - -Williams said nothing, not ready with argument till more was divulged. -Bassett, in blank amazement, ejaculated: - -“Why, that’s the most extraordinary thing----” - -“Wait, Mr. Bassett,” Rawson raised a long commanding hand. “I hung -round till the evening train came in; that’s the train Tracy was to -take. I saw the conductor--it’s a small branch road and travel is light -at that hour--and he remembered his passengers, two women and a child. -Those were the only people who left Hayworth on the seven-fifteen, the -last evening train. I went back to the village and made inquiries. -Tracy had hired no vehicle at the garage or livery stable, nor had he -been seen anywhere about the place. Then I got a car and went to White -Beach. I was some time locating the old chap, but I finally ran him -down. He said he had not taken Tracy across to the mainland last night.” - -Rawson dropped back in his chair. In answer to Bassett’s expression he -nodded soberly: - -“Yes, it’s a pretty queer business. Gabriel said he’d told the boy to -be on time; made it clear to him that he wouldn’t wait. When Tracy was -not on the wharf he went to the house to look for him, saw his bag -and fishing-rod in the doorway and took them. No one was about and he -left--not sorry, I inferred from what he said, to give ‘the young cub’ -as he called him, a lesson.” - -Bassett got up: - -“But it’s incomprehensible,” he exclaimed. “I can’t make head nor tail -of it. No one ever questioned that he’d gone.” - -“No one said they’d seen him go but his sister,” came from Williams. - -Bassett wheeled on him: - -“Yes, you asked her. Didn’t she say she’d seen him?” - -“No.” Rawson’s voice was dryly quiet. “I’ve thought of that. What she -said was that he went. In all fairness to her she probably thought -so--took it for granted as you all did--that he’d gone.” - -“But why? What’s the meaning of it? If he’d missed the boat he’d have -turned up, he’d be here now.” - -“Oh, he didn’t miss the boat,” said Rawson. - -“Well, then, what was he doing? What made him stay?” In the turmoil of -his amazement, this sudden precipitation of a new mystery, Bassett had -not yet grasped the sinister trend of the other’s thoughts. - -“Why,” said Rawson slowly, “he might have been staying for a purpose.” - -“What purpose?” - -“Can’t you imagine a purpose, Mr. Bassett?” - -“Good God, you don’t mean to say you think he _did it_?” - -“I’m not saying anything yet. But I’d like you to tell me how you -explain it. He says he’s going, leads every one to think he’s going, -makes all the preparations for his departure, then secretly, without -divulging any change of plans, doesn’t go. Aren’t those actions--well -to put it mildly--questionable?” - -“Yes--the whole thing’s inexplicable as we see it now.” - -“And note this. He had cause for anger against Miss Saunders--she’d -given him away to you--and you yourself have told us that he had an -ungovernable temper.” - -“He had a devilish temper and a damned mean disposition and I make no -doubt he was blazing mad with her. But that he’d go to work to kill her -in cold blood, lay in wait for her--no--you can’t make me think that.” - -“Same here,” said Williams. “You ain’t got enough provocation. With -Mrs. Stokes you have--a woman jealous of her husband.” - -“And you’ve got a man,” retorted Rawson, “moved by one of the passions -that lead oftenest to murder--revenge.” - -“Revenge?” echoed Williams. - -“Miss Saunders’ accusation, if true,--and I think it was,--would ruin -him in his profession. He learned what she’d done to him just before he -was due to leave.” - -A chill passed through Bassett--revenge was a word that fitted Joe. But -he cast the thought out, moving away from the desk and exclaiming with -angry repudiation: - -“Oh, it’s unthinkable, preposterous.” - -“What but an evil intention could have made him act as he did?” - -“Any number of things. It may be a prank--a practical joke we’ll get -an explanation of later. He may have invented the story of his fishing -trip and gone off with a girl.” - -“Had he a girl?” - -“I don’t know--also he may have done something dishonest, got in -wrong some way--he was capable of it, I’m not defending him--and been -frightened and lit out.” - -“How did he get off?” - -Bassett’s voice was raised in his exasperation: - -“Good lord, Rawson, we weren’t jailed here then. He could have had a -boat hidden in one of the coves. This place wasn’t escape-proof till -you turned up. He could have rowed ashore and landed anywhere, and -that’s what he’s done.” - -“Unless he’s here.” - -“Here on the island?” - -“That’s my opinion, in hiding on the island.” - -Williams spoke with an air of patient reminder: - -“Ain’t we gone over it with a fine-tooth comb?” - -Rawson pointed to the ceiling: - -“How about that top story? A person--we won’t say who--could have -killed the woman, entered the house while the rest of you were on the -beach, put back the pistol, and gone up-stairs.” - -Williams made a motion to heave himself up from his chair. - -“Well, if that’s how you feel about it let’s go up and have a look for -the person.” - -“We needn’t do that just now. They’re as safe as if they were behind -bars. There’s something I want to do down here first--have a talk with -Miss Tracy. She may be able to give us a little light.” - -“She can’t help you,” said Bassett. “They weren’t on confidential -terms. She’d be the last person he’d tell anything to.” - -He believed what he said, but his heart sank. Anne to be dragged -through another interrogation, an interrogation with a hideous -suspicion behind it! - -Rawson rose: - -“Perhaps so, but it’s worth trying. She may know more than you think; -sisters sometimes do. And she certainly must have more knowledge of him -than any of us. We’ll soon see.” - -He moved toward the door. - -“I’ll go up and get her now.” - - - - -XV - - -WHEN Anne went up to her room she took a seat by the window where she -could see the channel. It was an undecipherable blackness, its farther -limit defined by the shore lights. But the night was very still, the -sagging weight of cloud hung low pressing down sounds. She could hear -the barking of dogs, the cries of children, a snatch of song from -the mainland. In this intense quiet the first explosive throbs of a -starting launch would be carried clearly across the sounding board of -the water. - -She kept telling herself that Rawson’s absence had nothing to do with -Joe. She had been telling herself the same thing ever since Williams’ -remark at supper. She gave her reasons for thinking so, as if she -were trying to convince an adversary who was maintaining an opposing -position. It was as Shine had said, Rawson had gone on some business -they knew nothing of. There must be endless business connected with -such a case. She remembered murder cases she had read of in the -papers--accounts of false leads, trails picked up and dropped, legal -questions of state and county authority. - -Then across the water, running along the surface in stuttering -reverberations, came the sound of the launch’s engine starting. -She saw the light leave the shore and come sliding forward, moving -smoothly like a light held in a steady hand. Below it a golden dagger -stabbed down into the glossy blackness of the current. She watched it -approaching, the inside of her mouth like leather, her clenched hands -wet. - -When it had disappeared round the end of the house she faced the door -and stood waiting. Her power to argue with herself was gone--if he had -found out anything he might come for her. She calculated his movements: -in the library now, talking with the others. A long time seemed to -pass. The stifling pulsations of her heart died down, and moving with -an exquisite quietness as if any sound she made might bridge the space -and call them running to surprise her guilty terror, she stole to the -door and opened it a crack. The living-room was lighted but empty; they -were in the library, shut in. Again a time passed and again her heart -calmed to a slower beat. It must be business, the business that had -nothing to do with Joe. - -She closed the door and decided now she might rest, not go to bed yet, -but lie down and try to get back to courage and control. She took off -her dress and put on her negligée, and with hands raised to loosen her -hair heard a step on the stairs. It struck upon her ear, heavy and -quick, a man’s step, and she remained as she was, her arms lifted, her -eyes staring into her reflected eyes in the mirror. She stood thus till -it stopped at her door. When the knock came and Rawson’s voice spoke -her name, the hands dropped and she moved to the door. - -“Can you come down-stairs for a minute?” the voice said, low and -guarded. “I’m sorry to ask you to get up.” - -She opened the door. “I hadn’t gone to bed. Yes, of course I’ll come. -You want to----” - -“Just ask you a few more questions. I’m glad I didn’t wake you.” - -She followed him along the passage and down the stairs. They crossed -the living-room side by side, Rawson with long strides, she with short -quick steps. There was a sense of hurry in their progress as if they -were hastening to some ominous goal. When she entered the library her -glance fell on Bassett facing her across the room, his brows drawn -low over the dark trouble of his eyes. His look told her of anxiety, -apprehension and a passionate concern for her. She gave it back, -feeling a desperate cold courage run to her fainting senses. - -Williams indicated an armchair near the desk: - -“Take a seat, Miss Tracy. Sorry we’ve had to call you down.” - -She fell into it and, as the men settled themselves in theirs, ran her -tongue along her dry lips and took a deep breath of air into her lungs. -Then she raised her chin and looked at them, inquiringly attentive. -During the passage of the look she laid the charge on her mind to go -cautiously and not be afraid. - -“We’ve been making some inquiries about your brother, Miss Tracy,” -Rawson began. “About his leaving here. You told us, as I remember, that -you knew he went.” - -“Why, yes, he went.” - -“Did you see him go?” - -“Well, no, I didn’t actually _see_ him, but that wouldn’t prevent--” -She stopped and looked from one to the other of the watching -faces--“What do you mean?” - -She must find out what they knew before she ventured. - -“Then you _didn’t_ see him?” - -“No--I didn’t see the boat go, I was up-stairs, but of course he went.” - -“We’ve found out that he didn’t,” said Rawson. - -“Didn’t go, didn’t go back with Gabriel? Wh--why--” She swept them with -an alarmed look which fetched up on Bassett. “Why, that’s not possible!” - -“Mr. Rawson’s seen Gabriel.” Bassett spoke very gently. “And he says he -didn’t take Joe over.” - -“But I don’t understand. He was all ready. I said good-by to him.” - -“When was that?” - -“In his room, just a little while before he went. He was waiting there, -everything packed and ready, waiting for the boat.” - -“And he said nothing to you about changing his plans?” - -“No, I don’t believe he had changed his plans. It was his holiday, he’d -been looking forward to it, he was crazy to go.” - -“Did he make any mention of an interview he’d had with Mr. Bassett?” - -“No--I don’t think he said a thing about Mr. Bassett.” - -“And he told you he was going, wanted to go. Was he jolly and -good-humored like a person starting on a holiday?” - -“Yes--why shouldn’t he be? It was what he’d been longing to do for -years. After I left him I went to my room and dressed and when I went -down-stairs I saw that his bag and fishing-rod, which he told me he’d -left by the entrance, were gone, and I thought of course he was. And he -has, he’s gone some other way.” - -Bassett looked at Rawson and murmured: - -“That’s the explanation.” - -Rawson went on without noticing: - -“Do you know of any adventures, schemes, he might have had in his head -that would make him want to fool you, steal off without letting you -know?” - -“No, but I wouldn’t. He didn’t tell me much. Boys don’t like their -sisters interfering.” - -“When you saw him in his room did he say anything about Miss Saunders?” - -“Miss Saunders? No--he was talking about his trip. But what are you -asking me all these questions for? If he didn’t go the way you thought -what does it matter?” - -“_You’re_ sure he’s gone?” Rawson’s emphasis on the pronoun was heavy. - -She looked at him with startled eyes: - -“Yes, aren’t you? Why, you don’t think he’s _here_?” - -It was evident that she had not grasped the sinister aspect of -Joe’s mysterious actions. It struck Bassett as odd, for he knew her -intelligence and her anxious doubts of the boy. What she had been -through, shock and lack of sleep, had blunted her perceptions. He -prayed she would get through the interview without comprehending and he -did not see how she could. - -“How could he be here?” she went on, that look of naive astonishment -fastened on Rawson. “What for? And if he was--if he’d missed the boat -or changed his mind--wouldn’t he be with us all, here among the rest of -us? Of course he’s gone--he’s on his way to the woods now where he was -going.” - -Rawson addressed Bassett: - -“Didn’t you tell me he was to stop to-night in Bangor and meet his -friend?” - -“Yes--they were to start out in the morning.” - -“Where were they staying?” - -“Some hotel, I don’t know the name. Do you remember it, Anne?” - -She shook her head: “No. If he told me I’ve forgotten. I’ve no idea -what it was.” - -“Hold on a minute,” said Williams, stretching out his hand. “Shine -spoke to me about that. He was asking about a hotel in Bangor young -Tracy recommended--the Algonquin Inn. That may be it.” - -Rawson swung the desk chair round and drew the telephone to him: - -“We can find out in a minute.” - -They sat without moving while Rawson made the connection. As he spoke -the two men leaned forward, eagerly waiting, the girl drooped back in -her chair, her hands in her lap, her glance on the floor. - -“Is there a Mr. Tracy there--Joe Tracy?” And then a period of -listening, punctuated with grunts of assent from Rawson. Then, “Mr. -Travers has gone--left on the six-fifteen this evening--I see.” A -silent stretch and a final “Thanks--that’s all I wanted. Much obliged.” -The receiver clicked into its hook, and Rawson swung the chair toward -them: - -“Travers has been there waiting since last night. Tracy never showed -up. Travers had no message from him and left this evening for Moosehead -Lake.” - -For a moment there was no comment. Anne raised her eyes, the sides of -the room looked a long way off and the light seemed to have intensified -to a violent glare as if she were sitting in the midst of a dazzling -illumination. The men’s faces were turned to her, glazed by the -radiance like glistening masks. - -“I don’t know what to make of that,” she said, the words dropping -slowly with spaces between. - -“Neither do we, Miss Tracy,” said Rawson, and leaning back, his -hands clasped over his stomach, he gazed intently at her through his -horn-rimmed glasses. - -The glow increased, wrapped her round in a flame-like heat that ran -along her skin in prickling points. It shone on the lenses of Rawson’s -glasses which seemed to grow larger and come nearer, malignly glaring. - -“Yes, you do,” she said and heard her voice hoarse and changed. “You’ve -made something of it already. And what you’ve made is lies--wicked -lies.” - -Then she had seen it. Bassett made a step forward, but she leaped to -her feet, oblivious of him: - -“You think he did it, just because you can’t find him. That’s all he’s -done, gone away. You must be crazy. What would he do it _for_? Don’t -you have to have a reason to commit murder?” - -Williams was sorry for her, a pallid panting creature shaken out of her -gentle semblance by an unexpected revelation. “Come now, Miss Tracy,” -he urged. “Don’t get worked up.” - -But she paid no heed, pouring out her words at Rawson who remained -without change of position, looking fixedly at her. - -“They weren’t good friends. I don’t know why--I asked her but she -wouldn’t tell me. And what was it--a quarrel, a grievance? But that -wouldn’t make him want to _kill_ her!” - -“I’ve told them that, Anne,” Bassett implored; “there’s no use going -over it.” - -She made a motion for him to keep silent and moved nearer Rawson. - -“It is strange his going away like that--I’ll admit it. But he -did strange things; and does every one always do what’s sensible -and reasonable? Because he happened to act in a way that we can’t -understand is no proof he’s a murderer. He didn’t do it, he couldn’t -have done it. And to think that he’s here! Where would he be? Haven’t -you searched the whole island? He’s gone, even if he didn’t meet Jimmy -Travers. He’s gone somewhere else.” - -Rawson leaned suddenly forward and caught her by the wrist: - -“What did you see last night in the living-room?” - -If he had meant to surprise her he failed of his purpose. She hung back -from his grip and said with defiant emphasis: - -“_I saw nothing!_” - -“Are you sure it was a book you came down for?” - -“It was a book, as I told you.” - -“You could read a few hours after your friend was murdered?” - -“I could try to read--it was better than thinking.” - -“You’ve got a pretty cool head, Miss Tracy,” he added, and relinquished -her hand. She fell back in her chair as if his hold upon her had been -all that sustained her in an upright position. He rose, looking down at -her, curious and unsatisfied: - -“I guess we’ll call a halt for a while. We’ve other work to attend to. -But wait here till we come back; we may have to do some more talking.” -He turned to Williams and gave a jerk of his head toward the hall. -“Come on, we’ll go up there now.” - -He walked to the door, Williams following him. As it shut after them -Bassett went to her and bent over her chair. She held him off with a -hand on his breast and whispered: - -“Where are they going?” - -“Up-stairs, to the top story.” - -She clutched the lapels of his coat: - -“He’s there, he’s up there.” - -“He--who?” - -“Joe!” - -Bassett stared into her eyes. He thought her senses were giving way: - -“Anne, darling, what’s the matter? Joe’s not here--you’ve just said so -yourself.” - -“I said what wasn’t true--he’s there.” - -He caught her arms and drew her to her feet: - -“What do you mean?” - -“I know it, I’ve seen him.” - -“Seen Joe himself?” - -“Last night when I came down for the book. He’s hiding up there--I -thought he was safe. And now they’ll find him.” - -Bassett knew she was telling the truth. His mind took a sweep backward -over the last twenty-four hours--she had known it all along, played -a desperate game single-handed. In flashes of retrospect came her -questions to him in the garden, her ashen face when they had burst in -upon her the night before. The situation, accepted and familiar, was -suddenly shaken apart like the pattern in a kaleidoscope and had fallen -into another shape, a shape so unexpected and horrible that he stood -frozen looking over her shoulder into its unfolding dreadfulness. - -“What can I do--what can I do?” Her whisper pierced to his brain and -her hands jerked at his coat in frantic urgency. - -“Nothing now. They’ve gone, we can’t stop them. But tell me the -rest--how did you know--tell me everything.” - -“I saw the launch go without him and I was going to speak to you, but -Shine was there and I couldn’t. Then she was killed and I didn’t know -what to think, where he’d gone, anything! But that night I heard them -say there was a man on guard at the causeway, and I came down to tell -him in case he was here and would try to get across. And then I saw -him.” - -“Where?” - -“In the living-room. He came from the door into the kitchen wing and I -whispered it.” - -“Did he say anything?” - -“No--just ran the way he’d come in. And then I knew--” she stopped -and closed her eyes. “Oh, I didn’t know it but I thought it. _Can_ it -be true--could he have done it? One minute I’m sure and then I can’t -believe it; and I don’t know, I don’t know.” - -She pressed her face against his chest and he held her close, saying -anything he could think of that might sustain her--they knew nothing -yet--it was all guesswork--something might turn up that would explain -it. He did not believe what he said--knowing more than she he had no -doubts--and under his words his thoughts searched wildly for possible -ways of coming to her aid. - -“Oh, God grant it, God grant it!” she groaned, and drawing away from -him ran to the door, and opening it, stood listening. He followed her -and with pauses for that tense listening, she told him of her visit to -the top floor. - -“He didn’t answer you?” he said. “Then he might not have been there.” - -“Where else could he be?” - -“Outside. He could see us going over the island from one of those upper -windows. After we’d finished he could have slipped out again, knowing -he was safe there.” - -She saw the possibilities of this and hung on them, left the door and -conning them over, paced about the room. Presently they could bear the -shut-in space no longer and crept through the hall to the living-room. -They stood on the threshold, subduing their breathing that no sound -might interfere with their entranced attention. The silence of the -house lay round them like an enshrouding essence. Far away the rhythm -of the waves came and went, faint and regular, like the pulsing of the -world’s heart tranquilly beating in some infinitely remote realm of -peace. - -They returned to the library and, as the minutes passed and the strain -increased, stood motionless and dumb as statues, waiting, listening. -They felt as if everything but that room and their suspense had ceased -to exist, as if time had stopped and this one fearful hour was to -stretch out forever. - -Then a sound from the distant reaches of the house broke it--the -descending feet of the men. Bassett pulled her away from the door, -closed it and drew her to the middle of the room. - -“Will you help me?” she whispered. “Will you help me whatever happens?” - -He nodded, there was no time now for words. He motioned her to sit -down, and moved back from her, listening to the steps which were -crossing the living-room, entering the hall. Were they louder than -they had been going up, were there three pair of feet where there had -been two? They stopped at the door, it opened and Rawson and Williams -entered. - -Williams threw an electric torch on the desk and said to Bassett with a -sardonic grin: - -“Nothing doing.” - -Rawson spoke to Anne: - -“You can go up-stairs, Miss Tracy. We’ll put off the rest of our talk -till to-morrow. You better try to get some rest. And kindly remember to -stay in your room. I don’t want any mistakes made about that to-night.” - -She murmured words of compliance and rising with pale composure left -the library. - -When the door shut on her Bassett said: “You got nothing up there at -all?” - -It had been difficult to frame the question. Since they had left his -position with regard to them had undergone a horrible change. He did -not know how horrible till this first moment of encounter when he saw -them ready to meet him in his old rôle. He felt a surge of repudiation -and then heard Anne’s whisper at his ear. It drowned the call of his -conscience, was louder than the guiding voices that had heretofore -governed his life. She was fighting alone, she had begged his help and -he was her lover. - -“Not a thing,” answered Rawson. “But we were at a disadvantage; not -enough light, and it’s a good-sized place. There’s a big store-room -full of junk, messed up with stuff, and one of the electric bulbs is -broken. We couldn’t go over that thoroughly, and he may have found -a cache there. We’ll comb it over to-morrow morning by daylight. Of -course he could have got out on the island--all that kitchen wing’s -kept open. He might have been lying low up there all yesterday and have -come down last night.” - -“And his sister saw him.” Williams laughed with good-humored derision. -“You didn’t get anything out of her, Rawson.” - -“No, I didn’t. She’s either a very smart young lady, or an entirely -innocent one. I’m not sure which. But she _did_ lead us to believe -he’d gone when he hadn’t, she _did_ come down-stairs on a pretty -fishy errand, and she _did_ forget the name of the hotel he’d gone to. -All quite possible but--well, we’ll know to-morrow.” He walked to the -window and looked out. “Dark as a pocket!” He turned to Bassett: “When -the tide’s full out could a person get across that channel except by -the causeway?” - -“There are places where they might swim the stream in the middle. It’s -a deep strong current but a good swimmer could do it.” - -“He might try it--he must be pretty keen about getting off here. You -know this shore-line. Suppose you go down and take up a station below -the boat-house among those juniper bushes. That’s a place a person -might use as a sheltered start for a get-away. You can’t see but you -can hear. Take Williams’ gun, and if there’s a sound, challenge, if -there’s no answer, shoot. I’ll come down with you, I want to take a -look at Patrick and I’ll stay round myself for a while.” - -He stepped to the sill of the window but Williams, feeling for his -revolver, stopped him: - -“Hold on a minute. I got an idea that I think’ll help a bit. I’ve been -thinking of it all day and if I’m not mistaken it’ll land your man or -your woman neater and easier than lying in wait for them outside where -they know by this time we’ve got a guard.” - -Rawson turned back into the room: - -“Let’s hear it--we want to clear this up to-night. But, Mr. Bassett, -you go on. Stop and tell Patrick what you’re doing and see that he’s on -the job. I’ll be down with him later, unless Williams’ idea opens up -something new.” - -Bassett took the revolver and stepped out of the window. - -The night was muffling dark; beyond the long squares of light the -windows cast, it lay a velvet blackness, the murmurs of the falling -tide issuing from it as if it had a voice which was whispering its -secrets. - -The outside darkness had a reflex on his own soul. As his body moved -forward into its shadowless density, his spirit sank deeper into an -enshrouding gloom. He saw Anne in a circling whirlpool, being sucked -nearer and nearer to the vortex. She knew Joe had never gone, had -connived at his concealment, had lied to them at every turn--accessory -after the fact. If they got the boy there was no way of extricating -her and it was impossible that they should not get him, held here, all -means of escape cut off. To-night, at the latest to-morrow, Joe would -be haled before them. He thought of anything he could do, any wild -act within the compass of human daring and ingenuity, and could find -nothing. - -He reached the boat-house and groped his way about it to find Patrick. -Coming round the angle where the man was stationed he pronounced his -name and was surprised to get no answer. He stretched a feeling hand -which came in contact with a large warm bulk, immovable under his touch -and giving forth a sound of heavy regular breathing. His own breathing -stifled, his movements noiseless as a cat’s, he struck a match and -sheltering it with his curved hand, held it out. In its glow he saw -Patrick huddled on the bench, his shoulders braced against the wall, -his head drooped forward in profound sleep. - -He dropped the match and put his foot on it. With the extinguishing of -its tiny gleam the darkness closed blacker than before and he had to -feel for the wall behind him, drawing close against it. The thought of -his trust rose hazy in the hinterlands of his mind like the memory of -some distant state of being in which he once had existed. - -Pressed against the wall, he calculated the distances about him. The -approach to the causeway was to his right, an incline of rocky steps, -and in the stillness he could hear the lightest foot descending them. -On such a night Joe might venture again--would venture if his nerve -still held. If he did it would be within the next hour, and if Patrick -slept and Rawson did not come he would go by unchallenged. - -A fitful breeze arose, carrying sea odors. He saw the lights in the -house go out, and the darkness close, solid and even, over where they -had been. He heard the murmurings of the tide growing lower, fainter, -till they sunk to silence and he knew the bed of the channel was -uncovered. - - - - -XVI - - -WILLIAMS thought highly of his idea. It had come to him that morning -while thinking of the person he had heard descending the stairs, the -person he insisted was Mrs. Stokes. In its inception it had been -directed chiefly at that lady, but now with the mystery complicated by -the intrusion of a new figure its usefulness would be extended. The -thing that was aimed at Mrs. Stokes, would include Joe Tracy. That was -how he put it to Rawson to gain the consent and cooperation of his -superior. For he had little interest in Joe Tracy himself, inclining -to agree with Bassett and Anne that the boy had nothing to do with the -murder and was not on the island. - -It was a simple and practicable plan--a watch kept for the rest of the -night on the stairs and certain points of exit. In the face of positive -orders two people had come from the upper floor the night before, Miss -Tracy on an errand that Rawson thought suspicious, Mrs. Stokes, in -Williams’ opinion, to communicate with her husband. Even if both men -were wrong some powerful incentive was making them take such risks and -it was natural to suppose that incentive might be strengthened after -twenty-four hours of strain and uncertainty. They might try it again, -and to catch them at it, surprise them in the act--if they didn’t break -down on the spot--a little grilling would do the job. - -As for the boy--if he was still in the top story as Rawson thought, -he’d certainly not stay there after they’d been searching the place for -him. He’d know they were on his trail, that his only hope was getting -away and the night was dark enough to tempt him. If he was outside he’d -discover his escape was cut off and what would he want then--food? He’d -see himself faced by starvation and the place he’d make for would be -the kitchen. - -Rawson looked at his assistant with an approving eye. The idea -was good, excellent, and without waste of time they arranged the -distribution of the watch. - -Williams would take the front stairs, his particular prey was there -and he had already located the position of the electric-light button. -Rawson would station himself in the kitchen with its two doors one -to the outside, one to the hall. As Williams had pointed out it was -the place to which Joe, escape blocked, would inevitably turn. The -living-room they would assign to Shine, less important than either of -the other ambushes, but commanding the entrance to the side wing and -the path to the causeway and dock. Any one descending the back stairs -to make an exit from the house would either turn to the kitchen or go -through the living-room, and whichever way they took, would run into -a trap. The men were satisfied, each one was detailed to the spot -where he might expect to apprehend the object of his suspicion. The -living-room, central and exposed, might safely be left to Shine. - -They found Shine in the butler’s room sleeping soundly on the outside -of the bed. He was acquainted with the plan, and stumbling and -heavy-eyed followed them. In the hall Rawson left them, taking his way -to his hiding-place, the other two faring on to the scene of Shine’s -duties. Here he received his instructions, special emphasis being laid -on the door that led to the kitchen wing and the back stairs. Shine -looked from the door to Williams with a perplexed frown. He did not -like to admit--no more than he had liked to display the healthy vigor -of his appetite--that he was so sleepy it was doubtful whether he could -keep awake. In this embarrassing position, when he desired to acquit -himself creditably and feared the weakness of his flesh, he too had an -idea. He did not know if it would be acceptable and broached it with a -cautious preamble. - -They just wanted to know who the person was, didn’t they? He wouldn’t -have to catch them, which would be nearly impossible in the dark and -was unnecessary as no one could get off the island. To see them, be -able to identify them, get on to who was stealing round the house, -was the point. If that was enough he’d a way of doing it, the surest -and most efficacious way it could be done, no scrambling round the -furniture, no uncertainty--he’d set his small camera for a flashlight -photograph. The materials were all at hand, he’d gathered them together -for a flashlight picture of the company. All he had to do was to get -them ready and if any one entered by the door he was to watch, he’d -have their number before they knew it. - -Williams was interested--it was a neat trick and tickled his fancy. -As he was ignorant of the process, Shine explained it, getting his -properties from the cabinet as he spoke. The flashlight powder in a -saucer on the table, then a double wire extending from it to a point -above the door--the pair of antlers would answer. There the wire would -be cut, one-half hanging down from the antlers, the other twisted round -the door handle, its end standing out. When the door was opened the two -severed ends would come in contact and make the circuit which would -set off the powder. He did not tell Williams that the taking of the -picture could be achieved whether he was asleep or awake, but that the -camera would make its record whatever his state was an immense relief -to his mind. - -Williams left and he quickly completed his preparations. The antlers -served his purpose well, the depending cord was in exactly the right -position and before he made his final adjustment of the two wires -he unloosed the latch of the door that it might open easily and -noiselessly at the first push of a stealthy hand. Then, his camera in -place, he turned off the lights. The room was suddenly plunged into -Egyptian blackness; he had to feel for the chair he had pulled up and -grasping the tripod, nearly upset it. Swearing under his breath he -found the arms of the chair and let himself down upon it carefully, to -avoid creaking. The silence of the house closed round him, a silence -that was like oblivion. The darkness showed no break as his glance -traveled over it. A solid impenetrable wall, it was hard to look at, -the eye required something to rest upon. After he had stared into it -for what seemed a measureless stretch of time, he felt he must shut -his eyes for a moment of respite. He did so, his head drooped, nodded, -sunk, and he lay a big crumpled figure held in the embrace of the chair. - -A bang--in that silence as loud as a cannon shot--a rending burst of -light, waked him. He leaped to his feet his senses scattered, not -knowing where he was or what had happened. Then from every side of -the house noise broke, groans, screams, slamming of doors, thudding -footfalls. It was terrifying in the darkness, like a company of ghosts -wailing and running about in some black inferno. Williams’ voice -shouted the first intelligible words: - -“You got them--good work! Where the hell are the lights?” - -That shook Shine into consciousness, and he called to the gallery -whence a patter of bare feet and shrill female cries rose: - -“It’s all right. Don’t be scared. It’s only a flashlight.” - -Male voices followed, harsh and loud as the men came rushing in: - -Rawson’s from the left with the crash of the door flung back against -the wall. - -“What are you doing in here? What was that?” - -Bassett’s from the entrance, his body colliding with furniture as he -ran blindly forward. Somewhere in the darkness behind, Stokes’ high and -choked, breaking into curses. And over all Miss Pinkney’s riding the -tumult like the war cry of the Valkyries: - -“Why don’t some of you fools turn on the electricity? The button’s on -the right side of the door.” - -Bassett’s hand found it and the room was flooded with light. - -The women in straight white nightgowns stood on the gallery huddled -together. The dreadful darkness lifted, they leaned over the railing, -their faces pallid between hanging locks of hair, dropping a shower of -questions on the men below. One of them was hysterical and gave forth a -sobbing wail, and Williams shouted with angry authority: - -“Keep quiet up there. Nothing’s the matter. Didn’t you hear it was a -flashlight?” - -Some one strangled a scream--Williams thought it was Flora but could -not be sure. Then they made a simultaneous retreat to the bedrooms for -negligées and slippers, while the men, gathered round Shine, listened -to his explanation. No, he’d seen nothing and heard nothing, but he’d -got the picture all right, whoever it was, he had them. Now he’d go -and develop it--he could do that in a few minutes--and there was the -projector in the corner he could use, throw it on to something where -they’d all see. A sheet over that screen by the desk would do. And when -it’s on there, large as life, there won’t be any use lying, there’ll be -nothing for it but to come across. - -They urged him out, they’d attend to everything: hurry up with -the picture. Williams was unable to hide his elation. His idea, -augmented by Shine’s, was a bull’s-eye hit, and his voice showed an -exultant excitement as he called to Miss Pinkney to bring a sheet. -Rawson’s satisfaction was less apparent, but his eye was alight with -anticipation. If it was the boy, he had run back up-stairs, for no exit -had been attempted through the kitchen. With the whole house astir -he’d be afraid to come down and they had him safe as a rat in a trap. -Impatient at the wait for Shine’s reappearance he left the room, saying -he was going to the boat-house for a word with Patrick. - -Bassett saw him go and made no move--he could not leave Anne now. The -detonation and fire-work illumination that had made him leap for the -path had roused Patrick. As he ran, not knowing what had taken place -in the house, he had heard the man’s grunt of returning consciousness -and a hoarse expletive thrown into the night. Rawson would find him -awake and his dereliction never be known. But this mattered nothing to -Bassett. An inner anguish held him; his eyes and Anne’s had met as she -stood on the gallery and for the despair in hers he had no consolation. -He saw Miss Pinkney and Williams pulling out the screen and draping -it with a sheet, he saw Stokes walking stiffly to a chair, his hands -curved over its back, his face a curious shining white--he saw and -his mind registered nothing. If it was Joe, if it was Joe--what would -become of her, what could he do? - -The noise of the women’s footsteps on the stairs came in a descending -rush. They burst in, their voices going before them, a scattering of -gasped explosive utterances. - -Flora went to Stokes and caught at his arm. “What is it, what is it?” -she kept repeating, jerking at his arm, till he started away from her -pushing her off. - -Williams heard and answered with veiled gusto. Some one had been -walking about the house at night against orders. It had been important -to find out who was doing it and so Mr. Shine had set his camera -and caught them, him or her--Williams’ voice was heavy on the last -pronoun--in a flashlight picture. Mr. Shine was developing it now and -as soon as he was ready they’d see it thrown on the sheet. - -“It wasn’t me,” came Mrs. Cornell’s voice in loud relief. - -“Nor me, nor me.” Flora’s followed. - -“Can’t you damned women keep still,” Stokes ground out between his -teeth. - -Rawson reentered. He had heard them as he came up the path and stopped -on the threshold looking at Anne, waiting to see if she would speak. -But she said nothing, standing by Bassett, her hand braced against -a table, her glance on the floor. She knew Rawson was watching her -and willed her form to an upright immobility, her face to a stony -blankness. If she could hold herself this way, not move or speak, she -could bear the tension. A touch, a word, and she felt that her body -might break to pieces and her voice ascend in long-drawn screams to the -skies. - -The screen under its white covering was set in the place Shine had -indicated, the projector put some distance back, facing it. To some -of them these preparations had the hideous significance of those -preceding an execution and all of them felt the deadly oppression of -the approaching climax. The room was very still as if an enchantment -lay on it. At intervals Mrs. Cornell drew her breath with a low moaning -sound, Stokes’ hands clenched and unclenched on the chair-back and -Williams looked at his watch. He began a guttural mutter of impatience -and stopped as the door opened and Shine came in. - -He came quickly, bringing an air of excitement to the already highly -charged atmosphere. There was a bewildered agitation in his face, and -his words were broken and uncertain as he answered Williams’ questions: - -“Oh, yes, I got it--something--I can’t quite make out--got me sort of -flustered hurrying so. You’ll have to stand away there, folks.” He made -a waving gesture and they drew back, pushing against one another till -they stood massed in the rear of the room. He turned to the projector, -adjusting it, then held the negative out toward Williams. “We’ll -probably lose this, Mr. Williams. Doing it so quickly I couldn’t fix -it. It’ll likely melt with the heat in here, won’t last more than a few -minutes. You don’t want to keep it, do you?” - -“Go ahead. It’s only the picture--that’s all that concerns us.” - -“All right--it’s your say-so. You’ll get it in a minute now and by gum, -I want to see--” he stopped, his breath caught, his hands busy over the -machine. “Now then, we’re ready. Some one please put out the lights.” - -Miss Pinkney pressed the button and the room dropped into darkness. -Through it the projector cast a golden shaft that rested on the screen -in a bright circle. The reflection painted their faces with a spectral -glow. Every face, eyes staring, lips dropped agape or pressed together -in a taut line, watched the bright disk of gold. - -“Now,” came Shine’s voice whisperingly. - -A picture leaped into being on the screen. A door-frame backed by -solid indistinguishable black, the edge of a door, and beyond it, -the outlines melting into the darkness, the suggestion of a head and -shoulders only the face showing clear, looking at them with wide -questioning eyes--Sybil Saunders’ face. - -The silence held for a moment, then broke in an explosive volume of -sound. The women’s shrieks rose simultaneously--“Sybil! Sybil!” The -name ran about the room, beat on the high ceiling and was buffeted from -wall to wall. - -“The dead woman!” Williams shook Shine’s arm in his incredulous -amazement. - -“It is--it’s her. I saw it when I developed it and I don’t -know--something’s gone wrong.” - -A raucous cry rose above the chorus of female voices. Stokes had -dropped his hold on the chair, his starting eyes fixed on the picture. -From his lips, curled back like an angry dog’s, came a strangling rush -of words: - -“She’s dead. She’s dead for I killed her. I shot her--she’s dead. She -can’t come back, she never can come back. I shot her as she ran--I -killed her--I saw her fall--she’s dead--dead!” - -The words died in a groan. He pitched forward and lay a writhing -moaning shape with hands that clawed and dug into the carpet. The men -rushed at him, clustered about him, the women watching in dumb horror -while the picture behind them slowly faded from the screen. - - - - -XVII - - -WHEN they carried Stokes to his room they thought him dying, so ghastly -was his appearance, so deathlike his collapse. Bassett telephoned to -Hayworth for a doctor and before the man came, Flora, singularly cold -and collected now the fight was over, told them her husband was a -morphia addict and showed them the case in his bag with the empty vial. -In the two days’ detention on the island his supply had been exhausted, -the greatest strain of the many that had ended in his frantic -confession. - -When the doctor had made his examination and heard the facts he looked -grave--the man was in desperate case, a complete breakdown of the whole -organism and an overstrained heart. He thought there was little or no -hope, but there might be a return to consciousness. If there was he -promised to call the officers who were keen to get a fuller statement. -Meantime he wanted the room cleared of everybody but Mrs. Stokes, and -the men left, returning to the living-room to find Shine and get an -explanation of the picture. - -In the excitement of the Stokes sensation they had forgotten all about -the picture and now, walking down the hall, they swung back to it. -Bassett and Williams were baffled and confounded by it; it was one -of the most startling of the whole chain of startling circumstances. -Rawson was neither baffled nor confounded having already arrived at a -solution: Shine had played a trick, done it on purpose to see if it -might not accomplish just what it had accomplished. He was loud in -his praise of the photographer, it was a clever ruse that had brought -things to a climax when they might have gone on bungling for days. -Rawson was willing to admit his mistakes--he’d been sure of the boy and -now it appeared that Bassett and Miss Tracy were right. Joe Tracy had -evidently lit out secretly on some business of his own. - -He dismissed the company with a curt command and as they made their -hurried exits, jocularly congratulated Shine as the man who had pulled -off a successful hoax. But the photographer showed no responsive pride, -on the contrary he looked rather shamefaced and denied the charge. He’d -meant to take a picture, no funny business or fooling about it--but--he -rubbed his hand over his tousled hair and grinned sheepishly. He was -sleepy, that’s what had been the matter, just plain doped with sleep so -he didn’t know what he was doing. - -“Well, how do you account for the picture?” said Rawson. “Are you one -of these people who can take spirit photographs?” - -Shine wasn’t that--there was only one way of accounting for it. He -hadn’t opened the shutter and the picture was one of those he had taken -of Miss Saunders the day of his arrival. - -“Of course,” he said, staring perplexedly at the carpet. “I’d swear I -opened the shutter and I’d swear I closed it after I got my wits back. -But there you are--you can’t take a picture of a dead woman and I -had a lot of her on that film. That’s how it came about, being waked -up sudden by Mr. Williams and trying to pretend I was on the job, and -being naturally rattled by all that’s transpired here. Oh, you can -understand it!” - -“You’d taken her like that--coming through a doorway?” - -He’d taken two or three like that--he couldn’t be sure how many. But -he did remember posing her at both the front and rear entrances of -the living-room, trying to get effects of a dark background with her -figure dimly suggested and the light on her face. It was evidently one -of those pictures, must have been the last he’d done, but he couldn’t -trust his memory on any small points. He’d been more shocked than he -had any idea of but he knew it now. - -He described his amazement at having seen it in the negative. He said -he couldn’t believe his eyes and hadn’t mentioned it as he thought he -was “seeing things” what with the murder and all the excitement. And -he couldn’t study it or compare it with those on the rest of the film -because it was gone. After they’d taken Stokes away and he’d got the -women quieted down he’d turned to the sheet--and there it was, blank as -it is now and the negative melted. As for the explosion of the powder, -that was easy to explain, and he told of his precautions in unlatching -the door. Any light air could have swung it open and as he was sinking -to sleep, he had felt a breeze blowing in from the entrance. Rawson -verified this; a wind had arisen that had kept him on the _qui vive_ in -the kitchen, moving the curtains and making the doors creak. - -So that was that! Nobody’s brains, nobody’s deductive powers, or -perspicacity or psychological insight had brought them to the goal. The -bungling of a sleepy man had done the trick. - -They were talking it over when the sound of Flora’s voice stopped them. -She was standing in the doorway very white and very calm. Stokes was -asking for them. Yes, she nodded in answer to Rawson’s look, he was -quite himself. The doctor had wanted him to wait till he was stronger -but he had insisted: - -“He says he must speak now while his mind is clear. He seems to know it -won’t last and he can’t rest till he’s told everything.” - -They found him bolstered up in bed, a haggard spectacle, his eyes, sunk -in darkened hollows, seemed to hold all the life left in his body. They -hung on the entering men, then swerved to his wife and he made a motion -for her to sit beside him. When she had taken her place and he had -groped for her hand, his eyelids dropped and he lay for a moment as if -gathering strength. - -“I’m glad you’ve come,” he whispered. “Glad it’s over. If I’m going on -now it can’t be to anything worse than this last thirty-six hours.” - -The desire to free his mind possessed him. Rest, he said, rest was all -he wanted and it was not for him till he had unloaded the intolerable -burden he had carried since Sybil Saunders’ death. In his own words the -recital was broken by digressions, memories of his torturing passion, -assurances of good intentions that failed of execution, remorse for the -wrong he had done his wife. Robbed of the theatrical quality that was -of the man’s essence, it was the stark revelation of a soul’s tragedy. - -He had never intended to kill her--that was the one point of -exculpation he insisted on. His love had made him mad, carried him -beyond the inhibiting forces of honor, feeling, reason. That it was -hopeless seemed to increase its obsessing power, and she had never for -one moment led him to think it was anything but hopeless. Unwaveringly, -from the first, her attitude had been dislike, aversion, a horror of -his state of mind and himself. - -His knowledge of the coming separation had been the igniting motive -that caused the inner explosion. After their stay on the island she -would go her way, keep her whereabouts hidden from him, and he might -never see her again. The thought became unbearable, and led him to -a resolution of wild desperation--he would get her alone, once -more confess his passion, and if she met it with the old scorn and -abhorrence, kill himself before her eyes. He had seen the revolver in -the drawer of the desk and on the day of the performance, taken it. To -prevail upon her to grant him the interview was the problem, and the -evil inspiration came to him to tell her he had news of Dallas, her -lover. It was a lie, he knew nothing of the man, but truth, decency, -self-respect no longer existed for him. - -He described the interview in the living-room, her roused interest and -demand for the information. The intrusion of his wife worked with his -plan and he had insisted on a rendezvous where they would be free from -interruption. They started for the summer-house on the Point, saw Shine -there, and made the arrangement to meet in the place at seven. Then she -had gone up-stairs to her room and he to the balcony to wait for her. - -When he saw her pass the balcony he had risen and followed her. She -had moved rapidly, not waiting for him, and he had not tried to catch -up with her as he knew she did not want any one to see them together. -When he entered the summer-house she was sitting on the bench close to -the table on which her elbows rested. His hysterical state, accelerated -during the long wait, had reached a climax of distraction and he burst -into a stream of words--he had lied to her, he knew nothing, but he -had to see her, he had lured her there for a last interview, a final -clearing up, and he drew out the pistol. The sight of it, his mad -babble of disconnected sentences, evidently terrified her. She leaped -to her feet and made a rush like a frightened animal for the opening. -Before he could speak or catch her she had brushed past him and fled -from the place. - -Then something had gone wrong in his head--he couldn’t explain--a -breaking of some pressure, a stoppage of all mental processes. In the -vacuum one fact stayed--that she had got away from him and he never -would see her again. A blind fury seized him and he shot at her as -she ran. She was at the summit of the cliff, staggered, threw up her -arms and went over. When he saw her body lurch and topple forward the -darkness lifted from his brain. He came back to himself as if from a -period of unconsciousness and realized what he had done. - -He described his state as curiously lucid and far-seeing. The insane -outbreak seemed to have freed his intelligence and temporarily -suspended the torment of his nerves. The situation presented itself -with a vision-like clarity and all the forces of his mind and will -sprang into action, combining to achieve his safety. From the shadow of -the vines he looked at the house, saw Bassett come to the living-room -entrance, glance about and go back. The sound of the shot had evidently -roused no forebodings and when no face appeared at window or door, he -ran to the pine grove. There he was safe and slipped unobserved to the -balcony. He waited here for a moment to get his breath and compose his -manner. He was the actor, playing a difficult part with a high-keyed, -heady confidence when he entered the room. - -His wife--that had been the unforeseen retribution. He had not realized -that suspicion would turn on her, and then saw that it might, saw that -it did. His hell began when he grasped the danger she was in, listened -to Rawson’s questions on the night of their arrival, sensed Williams’ -line of thought when the scene was rehearsed on the shore. He had tried -to turn them to Joe Tracy, snatching at anything to gain time, but he -would have told, he was ready to tell. He kept reiterating the words, -his burning eyes moving from one face to the other--he had broken her -heart, ruined her life, but he was not so utterly lost as that. - -It was her assurances that quieted him. She had known from the first he -would tell as she had known from the first he had done it. He relaxed -and sank back, his eyes closing, and the doctor motioned them to go. -Flora followed them to the door and held them there a moment to repeat -what she had said--as if, like him, wanting to rid her mind of all its -secret agony. It wasn’t surmise; she had seen him. When she had turned -from the water after her attempt to catch the body she had had a clear -view of him stealing through the pine wood, moving noiselessly and -watching the house. - -“He never knew it,” she said. “That night when you, Mr. Williams, -nearly caught me on the stairs, I was going to see him, say I knew what -he’d done and that I’d help him and lie for him and stand by him. Oh, -yes--I don’t care what I tell now. He was my husband, I’d loved him and -he’d been cursed--cursed and destroyed.” - -The men closed the door softly as upon the dead. What they had heard -and left behind them had taken the zest from their accomplishment and -in the glow of the hall lights their faces looked drawn and hollowed -with fatigue. Rawson drew out his watch--half past two. The best thing -they could do was to get a little sleep. The day would be on them in a -few hours, there would be a lot of business to get through and he, for -one, was dead beat. They wouldn’t take off their clothes, just turn in -on the sofa and divan, and stepping gently, as befitted a place where -so dark a doom had fallen, he and Williams passed into the library. - -Sleep was far from Bassett. He would like to have seen Anne, but -it would have been inhuman to rouse her, and he went toward the -living-room where he could think in quiet. The screen still covered -by the sheet and the projector facing it were untouched and gave the -place the air of a scene set for a play. Silence brooded over the room, -a silence so peaceful and profound that it seemed as if the hideous -tumult of the last hour must be a nightmare illusion. He dropped into -a chair, his breath expelled with a groaning note, then heard Anne’s -voice from the gallery above: - -“I’ve been waiting for you. May I come down?” - -There she was, dressed, leaning against the railing. - -“Come,” he beckoned, his heart expanding, his depression lightened, -and as she disappeared he pulled up a chair for her. She came in, -soft-footed across the rugs, with the whispering words: - -“I couldn’t rest till I’d seen you and heard. He’s told?” - -“Everything.” They sat, facing each other, close together. “It’s solved -and ended--the Gull Island murder.” - -“Is it all right for you to tell me?” - -It was all right and he told her. - -She listened absorbed, eyes intent on his, now and then nodding her -head in confirmation of an agreement in her own mind. When he had -finished, she sat looking down, apparently lost in musing contemplation -of the story. - -“So, as it turns out, Anne dearest, all that misery you and I went -through was unnecessary.” - -“Yes,” she said slowly. “It wasn’t Joe, he wasn’t in it at all. But -I don’t understand. I’ve been sitting in my room while you were with -Stokes thinking about it and I can’t make it out. Hugh”--she leaned -forward and rested her hand on his knee, dropping her voice though no -one was there to hear--“this is what I can’t explain--_whom_ did I see -in here last night?” - -Bassett’s answer was prompt, delivered in the brisk tone of common -sense: - -“I can. It’s very simple. You didn’t see anybody.” - -“Nobody?” - -“Nobody. I’ve been thinking about it, too. There’s only one -explanation, and that’s it.” - -She looked beyond him at the lamp, her eyebrows drawn in a puzzled -frown: - -“You think I imagined it?” - -“I know you did. Just consider:--You were in a wrought-up condition, -you expected to see him, came down for that purpose. The room was -almost dark, quite dark under the gallery where you say he came from. -After what you’d gone through--first a murder, then a suspicion that -would have undermined the strongest nerves--you were in a state to see -anything.” - -She continued to stare at the light, her face set in troubled thought. - -“I suppose that could be.” - -“Why, Anne dear, it must have been, it could have happened to any one. -And there’s another point--if it had been Joe, wouldn’t he have spoken -to you, one question even to find out what was going on, what we were -doing?” - -“Yes, yes. I’ve thought of that. It didn’t occur to me at the time. But -he would have said something.” - -“Of course he would. You never saw anything more substantial than a -shadow in the moonlight.” - -“That must be it,” she murmured. - -“I ought to have realized it but I was stampeded myself. We were all -ready to go off like a pack of fire-crackers. God”--he took her hand -and held its soft coldness against his forehead--“its a wonder we -didn’t all break to pieces like Stokes.” - -She was silent for a moment then said: - -“Well, where _is_ Joe? What’s he doing?” - -“Gone off on some business of his own. You were telling the truth -when you told Rawson and Williams that Joe’s actions weren’t always -calculable, weren’t you?” He saw her answering nod. “Well, he’s -evidently chosen the occasion of his leaving the island to light out in -some new direction. You can’t tell what may have been in his head--a -joke on Jimmy Travers, on us, any sort of lark or tom-foolery. We’ll -find it all out soon.” - -He had his own opinion of Joe’s behavior which he was not going to tell -her now. The boy, found out in his spying, knowing himself condemned by -his associates and black-listed in his profession, might have departed -for good, taken the opportunity to disappear from a part of the country -where closed doors and averted faces would be his portion. It would be -like him and Bassett fervently hoped that it might be the case. - -“Come,” he said, rising and drawing her to her feet. “There’s no good -bothering about that any more. Leave it to me and when we’ve got -through the rest of this horrible business I’ll look around for him. -And anyway, he’ll see it in the papers, and if he wants to show up, -he’ll do it himself within the next few days. Now you must go to bed -and let your poor tired brain rest.” - -They walked to the door and there he caught her against his breast and -looked into her face: - -“It’s all over--that fighting and struggling alone, Anne. After this -we’ll be together, as soon as we can get away from here and find a -clergyman to marry us.” - -They kissed and parted, Bassett going to his room--he could sleep -now--and Anne faring slowly up the stairs to hers. - - - - -XVIII - - -ANY one watching Gull Island from the shore would have seen the yellow -shape of one bright window set like a small golden square in the -darkness. The bright window was Anne’s and over against it Anne sat on -the side of the bed looking at the floor. She sat perfectly still, held -in a staring concentration of thought, reviewing the happenings of the -night. The inability to understand that she had expressed to Bassett -had come back to her, there were things that she could not explain -away. Like a child piecing together the disconnected bits of a puzzle, -she contemplated separate facts, studied them, dropped each one in turn -and went on to another. - -While Bassett had talked to her she had accepted his theory. His belief -in it had been so absolute and it was so plausible. Of course a person -in her state might have imagined anything. And as she dwelt on the -sentence to persuade herself, the vision of the dim shadowy room rose -before her with the figure coming toward her from the darkness of the -gallery, moving spiritlike as an hallucination might move. But as the -memory grew in vividness the shape took form and solidity, the slim -boy’s shape. She saw again its rapid advance, its sudden stoppage at -her words, its lightning-quick turn and soundless flight. The snap of -the closing door came to her mind as a last confirmation and she knew -it was no delusion. - -“I did,” she said in a whisper, and raised her eyes as if confronting a -doubter with the truth. “I _know_ it--I _did_ see somebody.” - -Somebody! - -The word struck her ear with a startling effect, an effect of -discovery, of impending disclosures. Her body shrank together as if -in fear of them, her riveted glance grew fixed as a sleep-walker’s. -She lost all sense of her surroundings, her entire being contracted to -a point of inner activity. Before that intensified mental vision a -series of pictures passed like the slides in a magic lantern:--Shine’s -photograph, the worn, wide-eyed face of Sybil; Joe playing Sebastian, -his costume, his movements, a replica of Viola’s; the living-room as -they heard the shot, dusk falling outside; in the summer-house--with -its shrouding vines--it would have been almost dark. - -The pictures were disconnected like spots of light breaking through -darkness. If the darkness could be dispelled and the spots of light -joined, fused into continuity, she would reach something, something she -was groping toward, fearfully groping toward. Suddenly a recollection -flashed up, clairvoyantly distinct--Joe at the flat trying to make -Bassett give him the part of Sebastian, imitating Sybil’s walk. That -picture brought her to her feet, brought a smothered cry to her lips. -The spots of light had joined, run together in a leaping illumination. - -On the bureau lay the key of Joe’s trunk that she had brought from his -room after their last interview. She snatched it up and ran to the -door, out of it, along the gallery. In Joe’s room she turned on the -light and unlocked his trunk. She went through it to the bottom looking -for his Sebastian costume. It was gone, every appointment of it. She -had not needed the proof, she knew that she would not find it, that it -was Joe, dressed in that costume, Stokes had killed. - -The rest of it--Sybil alive, hiding somewhere! She saw the gray dawn -on the window--the night was over, the house would soon be stirring. -She locked the trunk, turned off the light and stole out on the -gallery. She did not go back to her room but kept on down the hall to -the top-floor staircase. Half-way up she heard from the floor above a -sound, so faint, so furtive, that it would only have been audible in -the dead dawn hush. She made a rush upward sending her voice, low-keyed -but passionately urgent, ahead of her: - -“Sybil, Sybil, if it’s you, wait. It’s Anne. I’m coming to help you.” - -The door of the bedroom opposite the stair-head was open. Against -the pale light of the window, poised with one hand resting on the -raised sash, was a boy’s figure--surely the figure she had seen in the -living-room two nights before. It was so completely boyish, the cropped -round head, the knickerbockers and belted jacket, that she could not -yet be sure and went forward with slackened gait, peering and murmuring -fearfully: - -“Sybil, it _is_ you?” - -The figure left the window, came nearer, silently, creepingly, with a -hand raised for caution. She saw the face then, pinched and haggard, -strangely altered with the curling frame of hair clipped close, but -still Sybil’s. - -It was so extraordinary--such a gulf of unknown happenings lay between -them--that at first they said nothing. In the spectral light they were -like two ghosts come together in some debatable land beyond earth’s -confines--too astonished at their encounter to find speech, too -removed from the recognized and familiar to drop back to its facile -communications. They stared, eye to eye, breath coming brokenly -through parted lips, drawing together as if each were a magnet -compelling the other. Anne spoke first. - -“Joe,” she said. “It’s Joe that’s dead.” - -“Yes. Do they know?” - -“They know nothing. They think it was you. It’s all over, Stokes has -told. But, oh, what is it? I can’t understand--it’s like a fearful -dream.” - -The words died away and a sudden violent trembling shook her. With -the joints of her knees like water she sank on the side of the bed, -gripping the other with her shaking hands, pulling her down beside her. - -“Tell me, tell me,” she implored. “Why is he dead? Why did he pretend -he was you? What was he doing?” - -They sat, clinging together, two small huddled figures in the gray -light. Though the house below was as silent as the tomb they spoke in -subdued voices, question, answer, surmise. Each knew a different aspect -of the story, brought her own knowledge of Joe’s motives and actions. -In that whispered exchange they pieced together the separate facts, -combined them in coherent sequence and came to a final enlightenment. - -Joe had met his death in his last effort as a police spy, his last -effort to get the Parkinson reward. Leaving his room to come down -and make ready for his departure, he had heard the voices of Stokes -and Sybil in the living-room. Sybil remembered Stokes’ upward look -and question about some one moving in the gallery--Joe creeping to -concealment behind the arch. The nature of their conversation would -have held him listening: here was his last opportunity to get the -information he sought. He had heard the rendezvous in the summer-house. -Its open situation offered no hiding-place outside, but knowing that it -would be almost dark inside, he had conceived the idea of putting on -his Sebastian costume and impersonating Sybil. He probably thought he -risked no more than Stokes’ rage, and he also probably thought that he -might escape before Stokes had discovered his identity. - -His room was next to Sybil’s. He had heard her come up-stairs and from -his window could command the Point. When Shine left it he had gone -down, passed the balcony where Stokes was waiting, and hearing his -following footsteps, moved with that close imitation of Sybil’s gait -to the summer-house. There the dim light and the drooping curls of his -wig enabled him to carry through the deception. Stokes’ wild speech, -followed by the drawing of the pistol, had terrified him. Confronted by -a man armed and half-mad, panic had seized him and he had made a rush -from the place. - -So Joe had died, a body clad in gala dress swirling out on currents -that would never bring him back. Anne said nothing. She did not feel -any special grief, or feeling of any kind. Too much had happened, she -was benumbed. She had a vague sense that in some future time, when she -had recovered from her dulled and battered state, she might be sorry, -cry perhaps. Her eyes fell on her hand with Sybil’s clasped around -it and the sight of the linked fingers roused her. They were like a -symbol of the intertwined closeness of their lives, so much closer -than hers and Joe’s had ever been. That brought her back to Sybil and -Sybil’s inexplicable actions. She lifted her head and looked at the -face beside her: - -“But--but--why did you do all this? Hide, not say anything, let them -think you were dead?” - -“I wanted to get away.” - -“Get away! What for--where?” - -“To Jim Dallas. I know where he is.” - -“You’ve known?” - -“For a month. I’ve written him telling him I’d come if I could, if -I _ever_ could. Oh, but it’s been hopeless. I was spied on, dogged, -followed--” Her voice rose on a hoarse note, stopped, and after a -scared listening hush, went on whisperingly: “I want to stay dead, -never come to life here again. It’s my chance--the only chance I’ll -ever have. You’ve found me now and I’ll tell you everything.” And she -told Anne the story--the story that no one else has ever heard. - -Since she had received his address the longing to join her lover had -possessed her. She had written she would come, she knew he was waiting -for her, but the watch kept upon her made any move impossible. Whatever -her anguish, she could not risk betraying his whereabouts; if it had -been only herself she would have dared anything. In this position, -growing daily more unbearable, had suddenly come the means of escape. -Tragedy, swift and terrible as a bolt from the blue, had been her -opportunity, and she had desperately seized it. - -From her window, after the interview with Stokes, she had seen Joe, -in his Sebastian dress, pass below. She had known it was he because -of the costume and was astonished, supposing him already gone. Stokes -came into view following him and the disturbing idea seized her that -he had mistaken the boy for herself. She had run to the door to go -down and end the misapprehension, and then stopped--at close quarters -Stokes would see who it was, and to let Joe--evil-tongued and -hostile--discover their rendezvous, was the last thing she wanted. She -went back to the window to watch the outcome and saw neither of them. -This frightened her--the only place they could have disappeared to was -the summer-house. Stokes might say too much before he discovered his -mistake, and panic-stricken, she was about to rush out, when Joe ran -from the doorway and the shot followed. - -For a space--she had no idea how long--she was paralyzed, not believing -her senses. She remembered moving back into the room and from there she -saw Stokes issue from the summer-house and flee to the shelter of the -pine wood, _that_ told her what she had seen was real, a murder had -been committed under her eyes, and she went to the door to go down. -Holding it open she paused on the threshold, heard the voices below, -heard Stokes’ entering words and had made a forward step to run down -and denounce him, when a sound from outside stopped her. Flora’s cry -that Sybil was killed. - -It was that wild screaming voice that gave her the idea, sent it -through her brain like a zigzag of lightning. While the people below -made their clamorous rush from the house, she stood in the doorway, -motionless in contemplation of the possibilities that opened before -her. The excitement that had shaken her a few minutes earlier died, her -mind steadied and cleared, she felt herself uplifted by an invincible -daring and courage. There was no danger of a recovery of the body for -she had heard from Gabriel and Miss Pinkney that bodies carried out on -the tide were never found. - -Alone on the second floor with little fear of interruption she had gone -about her preparations at once. She had taken nothing from her own room -but money from her purse (leaving a small amount to avert suspicion) -the candies from the box on the table, a few crackers she had brought -up the night before from supper, and a pair of scissors. Then going to -Joe’s room she had gathered the clothes he had discarded, lying ready -to her hand on the bed--everything from the shoes to the cap--and -stolen out and upward to the top floor. Here she had put on the clothes -and cut off her hair--she showed Anne the ends of the yellow curls in -her jacket pocket--hiding her own clothes in a box in the store-room. - -As to when the police would be summoned and of what their procedure -would consist, she knew nothing. Her hope was to escape by the causeway -that night. From this Anne had saved her. In her terror of recognition -she had kept silent knowing her voice would betray her. - -The next day she had been a prey to a rising tide of alarm. From behind -a curtain she had watched the search of the island and realized a hunt -through the top floor must follow. Every sign of her presence was -obliterated and she studied her surroundings for a hiding-place. The -windows, opened half-way to air the rooms, suggested the possibility -of a cache outside. Climbing up the wall and extending to the roof was -the great wisteria vine, its outspread branches twisted into ropes and -covered with a mantle of dense foliage. The main trunk passed close -to the window of the room that faced the stair-head, the place where -she sat waiting for ascending footsteps. When Anne had made her visit, -she had heard the first creak of the stairs and crawled out under the -raised window. With a foothold on the gutter she had slipped behind the -curtain of the vine, her hands gripped round its limbs. Even from the -garden below she thought it would have been impossible to detect her. -Of Anne’s whispered pleadings she had heard nothing; she had supposed -the intruder one of the men. When they came up she had had plenty of -time to hide for she had heard their footsteps when they came along the -hall. - -“Sleep!” she said, in answer to Anne’s question. “I never thought of -sleep. I was in this room all the time, waiting and listening. I didn’t -even dare to lie on the bed for fear I couldn’t get it smooth again. -The candies and crackers kept me from being hungry. But when your whole -being is on such a strain you don’t think of those things, you forget -your body.” - -After the visit of Rawson and Williams she knew the danger of detection -increased with every hour. Also the necessity for food could not be -denied much longer. The one chance left her was to get away that night, -make what she felt would be a last attempt to gain the freedom that -meant life to her. The darkness was in her favor and she resolved -to slip from the house and cross the bed of the channel below the -causeway. She was a good swimmer and though the central stream was -deep and swift she was ready to match her strength against it. If she -failed--but she hadn’t thought of failure--the goal to be reached was -all she saw. - -At the foot of the stairs she had hesitated, undecided whether to go -by the living-room or the kitchen. Finally she chose the way she knew -best, where she was familiar with the disposition of the furniture. As -the flashlight burst she had made a noiseless rush for the stairs, was -in the upper passage when the women’s doors flew open and Rawson came -running along the hall below. The darkness and noise had covered her -flight, but in her eyrie on the top floor she had crouched at the head -of the stairs sick with uncertainty and dread. The concerted shrieks of -the women had come eerily to her--cries of her own name. She guessed -then a picture had been taken, they had seen it, and she waited not -knowing what was coming. She had stayed there a long time, listening -with every sense alert, heard silence gathering over the house and then -gone back to her place by the window: - -“I hadn’t given up, I had the spirit to fight still. But it was so -awful not knowing anything, what they were doing, if they’d found out -I was alive. And what was I to do--stay here, get out on the island? I -couldn’t tell, I was all in the dark, and I felt my nerve weaken for -the first time. And then I heard your voice, Anne, ‘I’m coming to help -you,’ it said.” She drew back and looked with solemn meaning into the -other’s face. “You meant it? You will help me?” - -“Sybil, you know it.” - -“There’s only one way you can.” - -“Any way.” - -“Let me go.” - -“Never tell--that you were here--that it wasn’t you?” - -“Yes, let me stay dead. Everybody believes it, let them go on -believing. It _was_ death, my life since that night when Jim -disappeared. It wasn’t worth going on with. Now I can go to him, be -with him, there’ll be no one watching Sybil Saunders any more. Even -if I looked like myself it would be only the chance resemblance to a -murdered woman. And do I look like myself?” - -She turned her face to the light, bright now with the coming of the -sun. Below the smooth sweep of hair across her forehead it was so -changed in its pallor and thinness, so bereft of its rounded curves and -delicate freshness that it was only a dim reflection of Sybil’s--the -face of a way-worn lad in whom the same blood ran. - -The havoc worked by the suffering that had so transfigured it drove -like a knife to Anne’s heart. She felt the prick of tears under her -eyelids and lowered her head--Sybil gripping at her happiness with the -fierce courage of despair, and now Sybil going, breaking all ties, -going forever. For a moment she could not speak and the other, thinking -her silence meant reluctance to agree, caught at her hands, pleading, -with breathless urgence: - -“They’ve accepted everything--it’s all explained and ended. Joe has -gone, dropped out of sight. Boys of his kind do that, do something -they’re ashamed of and disappear. What good would it do Stokes or -Bassett or the police to know it was Joe who was killed? It’s not lies, -it’s not being false to any one, it’s only to keep silent and let me -go. Oh, Anne, we’ve been real friends, we’ve loved each other-- Love me -enough to let me be happy.” - -The rim of the sun slipped above the distant sea line and sent a ray of -brilliant light through the window. It touched their seated figures and -lay rosy on Anne’s face as she raised it. - -“Go,” she said softly. “Go. I’ll never tell--I’ll keep that promise as -long as I live.” - -She could stay no longer, the house would be waking soon. There was a -rapid interchange of last injunctions, information for Sybil’s safety. -To-night at low tide she would cross on the causeway. Every evidence -of her occupation would be removed and with this in mind she took -her Viola dress from its hiding-place and gave it to Anne. No one, -ransacking the top floor at Gull Island would ever find a trace of her. - -At the head of the stairs they clung together for a moment--a life-long -good-by. There was no time for last words and they had no need of any. -It was too solemn a farewell for speech. They were like shipwrecked -comrades parted by tempest, Anne to find a haven, Sybil to ride forth -on unknown seas, rapt and dauntless, following her star. - -That night was cloudy--great black banks passing across the heavens. -At times they broke and through serene open spaces the moon rode, -silvering the sea, turning the pools and streamlets of the channel -bed to a shining tracery. A boy’s figure that had started across the -causeway in the dark, was caught in one of these transitory gleams, -a flitting shadow on the straight bright path. It stood out in sharp -silhouette, running on the slippery stones, then clouds swept across -the moon and in the darkness it gained the shore and the sheltering -trees. Padding light-footed on the wayside grass, it skirted the edge -of the village. - -Dogs scented its passage and broke out barking; the sound following its -progress till the houses were passed and the road stretched on between -quiet fields to the railway. - -Some people heard the dogs--light-sleeping villagers who turned and -wondered if a tramp was about and lapsed into comfortable slumber. In -the stillness of the room where Stokes lay unconscious, drawing toward -the hour of deliverance, the barking sounded loud and insistent. The -nurse was disturbed by it and went to the window and looked out, but -Flora never heard it. Anne did and sat up in bed following it along the -edge of the village till it died on the outskirts. - - - - -_EPILOGUE_ - - -THREE years later Bassett and Anne had a friend at dinner. He was -a writer who had just returned from a successful lecture tour in -Australia. On his way back he had ranged through the pleasant reaches -of the South Seas and had fallen under their spell--a little more -money in his pocket and for him it would be a plantation on some isle -of enchantment. Not the accessible places, they were already spoiled, -steamers had come, jazz music, and tourists in pith helmets with red -guidebooks were under your feet. It was the remoter islands, still out -of the line of travel, where a trading schooner was the sole link with -the world. - -He had made a point of visiting some of these--hired an old tub with -a native crew and gone batting about and had a glimpse of the real -thing that Stevenson saw. And he enlarged on a particular island, the -endmost of a scattered group, where he had found an American and his -wife running a copra plantation. Delightful people called Whittier, -he’d stayed several days with them in a long bamboo house on the edge -of a lagoon--you couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful. - -Anne smiled at his enthusiasm and said she thought such a life might -pall, especially on the lady. But he was convinced of the contrary, -in fact Mrs. Whittier had told him she never wanted to come back, she -couldn’t stand the futile strain and bustle of the world. And it was -not as if she were a person unused to the refinements of life, she was -a pretty intelligent woman, cultivated and fond of the arts, especially -the theater. She had asked him any amount of questions about plays and -players--said it had been the thing she loved most in the old days. But -she didn’t regret it; she had told him she regretted nothing but the -separation from her friends. - -After dinner, moving about in the sitting-room, the guest had stopped -before a photograph standing on a side-table, picked it up and asked -whose it was. Bassett had answered--a friend of his wife, now dead. But -he would remember--it was Sybil Saunders who had met with such a tragic -death some years ago. The guest nodded; of course he remembered, a -horrible affair. Then after a last look at the photograph he turned to -Anne: - -“It’s like that Mrs. Whittier I was telling you about. Just the same -eyes--quite remarkably like, only she’s a bit stouter and more mature. -It might have been her picture when she was a girl.” - -When the evening was over Bassett escorted the guest to the door. On -his way back to the sitting-room he thought he would suggest to Anne -that she put away the photograph--people noticed it and the subject -kept coming up. It was evidently unbearably painful to her for she -rarely spoke of it; that dark chapter in her life was a thing closed -and sealed. He had the words on his lips as he entered the room and -then saw that she held the picture in her hands and was looking -intently at it, softly smiling, her expression tranquil, even happy. -That was good--the wound had healed--so he said nothing. - - -THE END - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - -On page 12, fianceé has been changed to fiancée. - -On page 47, head-lands has been changed to headlands. - -On page 73, fishing rod has been changed to fishing-rod. - -On page 79, dispell has been changed to dispel. - -On page 157, contanied has been changed to contained. - -On page 179, ejactulated has been changed to ejaculated. - -On pages 247, 250, 251, 254 and 291, flash-light has been changed to -flashlight. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LEADING LADY *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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