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diff --git a/79047-0.txt b/79047-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..aceef2e --- /dev/null +++ b/79047-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4683 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79047 *** + + + + + DOUBLE JEOPARDY + + BY MARTIN M. GOLDSMITH + + NEW YORK + THE MACAULAY COMPANY + + Copyright, 1938, + BY THE MACAULAY COMPANY + + Printed in the United States of America + + _To_ + E. G. G. + + + "... And no person shall be subject to be twice put in jeopardy for + the same offence." + + --_Constitution of the State of New York_; Article I, Section 6 + + + + + DOUBLE JEOPARDY + + +Is it possible in this day of enlightened justice for a man to be +punished twice for the same crime? + +DOUBLE JEOPARDY answers this question, at the same time +uncovering the greatest of the many loopholes in our modern +jurisprudence. In this very human but striking novel are portrayed +the calamities that can be visited upon any ordinary citizen by the +cold, dispassionate judgment of our courts and our unimaginative and +often stupid juries. Through the eyes of the victim, Peter Thatcher, +this tense revelation unfolds, growing to ugly and utterly ridiculous +proportions. + +"Peter Thatcher has murdered his wife," people said. "I heard them +quarreling," announced one. "And I," added another, "saw the blood." + +To make matters worse, Thatcher himself could not be quite sure of his +own innocence! + +Not a problem novel, not a mystery novel, but rather a cross between +the two, this thrilling story will be appreciated by those who read +"The Postman Always Rings Twice." + + + + + PART ONE + + THE ROOTS + + +I suppose it was that five-point-nine that was to blame--or the gunner +who fired it; or maybe it was my own fault for lagging behind the +rest of my battalion as we advanced deployed through that ploughed-up +cemetery; but, somehow, I find myself laying it all before Anita's +door. She would never have permitted me to marry her, feeling the way +she did. As my mind wanders back over those days long ago I remember +that I was certain I would die if she refused me; now I may die because +she didn't. + +They are going to bury her tomorrow, or so I've been told, and they +are holding me responsible for her death. The District Attorney, +who visited me in my cell this morning, says that I am sure to get +the Chair. But I am not afraid. On the other hand, my own lawyer is +confident they will have to let me go free. In the event that he +is wrong and they do sentence me to die, it will not matter much. +After what I have been through, death no longer presents a terrifying +picture. And this is very strange for I have always been afraid to die. + +If only I had been born fearless, like Carter or Mullins or Sergeant +Wilkinson, maybe all this would not have happened. There is an old +saying that Fortune favors the bold. But because the thought of +dying and the rattle of machine-guns made me tremble, I crept into a +shell-hole and remained there, digging my fingers into the soft earth +while everyone else continued to advance. + +Practically the entire battalion was wiped out during the next half +hour. Had I not broken ranks and hidden myself, protected by the cover +of darkness, I would have been killed then and there with my comrades +and spared the subsequent nightmare that became my life. I would have +died a hero; not a murderer. But, naturally, I knew nothing of what the +future had in store for me. + +It was while I huddled in that shell-hole that a five-point-nine +shrieked close to my head. That is all I can remember until I +suddenly came to my senses more than three months later in a small, +French hospital forty kilometres from Paris. Little did I dream that +that shell would form one of the most important links in a chain of +circumstantial evidence which would indict me, try me, and convict me +of a crime later to be committed four thousand miles away! A theologian +would claim, no doubt, that God punished me for being a coward, and +perhaps that assumption is correct. I don't pretend to know. All that +I _do_ know is that I've certainly been through hell since the war and +that if I had known then what I know now and been given the choice +either of advancing with the rest and stopping a bullet or lagging +behind and living, I most certainly would have chosen the former. + +It has always been my custom to hide my unnatural timidity; but here, +in this confession, explanation of my peculiar behaviour, or what have +you, I have resolved to be absolutely frank and truthful. Since my +childhood, any action, sport or utterance of words which might in some +way lead to physical violence I have painstakingly avoided. It might +have been for this reason that I chose the career of doctor with the +altruistic ambition to help alleviate some of the world's suffering. +However, after two years of pre-medicine, my widowed mother passed away +and I was forced to give up my studies and use the small insurance in +the opening up of a drugstore. + +It wasn't much of a store, compared with the glittering chrome and +steel of modern places. The prescription room was only half the size +of this cell from which I write and the little wooden counter, where +my errand-boy dispensed bottled soda-pop and ice-cream, was scarcely +longer than this cot. But it was mine. I was proud to be its sole +proprietor. The first day I was in possession of the place I had a +large green and white sign painted: + + THE ITHACA DRUG COMPANY + Peter Thatcher + Apothecary + +All this was late in 1915, when I was only twenty-four years old, and +I suppose that my extreme youth did little toward establishing my +reliability as a competent pharmacist. The people of the town--and +when I say this I do not mean the Cornell students--a good many of +them knowing me from the time I was a little boy, could scarcely have +confidence enough to permit me to compound their ofttimes dangerous +prescriptions. My small store would probably have failed in that first +year had it not been for old Doc Turnbull who sent me all his work and +was instrumental in spreading around town the fact that I, at least, +never took a drink during business hours. In this manner he helped my +trade, at the same time doing much to damage the reputation of his +old-time enemy, Ray Cavender, who owned the apothecary shop on the +opposite corner. + +Those were comparatively happy days. I was working very hard building +up a business and time did not hang heavily on my hands. Also I was +single then; my heart was my own and I was not even contemplating +marriage. As a matter of fact, women have always awed me somewhat +and I have generally avoided them. As a boy I was inordinately shy +and whenever a girl schoolmate was thrust upon me as a partner for a +two-step, my chums would jeer: "Look at him blush!" Whereupon, sadly, +the color was sure to flood my cheeks. + +Perhaps it was this shyness that prevented me from having the multiple +"puppy-loves" people are always talking about. At least I know, if +there can be any satisfaction in that, that I have never been in love, +even momentarily, with anyone other than the girl I eventually made my +wife. You may be inclined to doubt that I loved even _her_. The press +has been very unkind. The reporters I have allowed to interview me did +not seem to understand that a man can kill someone he loves and still +feel no pangs of remorse. No, I am not sorry I killed Anita. As a +matter of fact, I'm not entirely sure I _did_ kill her. Theoretically +she killed herself and I was merely the instrument that brought about +her end. + +But I am running ahead of my story. The statements I have just made +sound contradictory and until you have all the facts I cannot hope that +you will understand. + +Just as I manifested no interest in women, women manifested no interest +in me. I am not bad to look at, I think. I am rather short but with +a good build. I am rarely ill and even now, after many years of +deciphering scrawled prescriptions, my eye-sight is perfect. But there +has never been anything about me that would attract a girl. I am not +very romantic and for this reason my life, up until the time I met +Anita, was curiously empty of heart throbs. + +I lived all alone in my mother's house. Although I could have made +excellent use of the money it would have brought, I could not part with +it. Quite a number of times I was approached by real estate investors +who offered "to take it off my hands." While their propositions were +inviting, I could not imagine myself living any other place. The house +was very old, built way back in the Civil War days by my father, and +not too large to be comfortable. It was situated on a quiet road lined +with great elm trees; and it had a garden which sloped down to the +bank of Lake Cayuga. In the summer I used to spend much of my time +there after I had closed the store, watching other young people drift +by in canoes or bathe on the opposite side of the cove. Their light +laughter as they splashed about came pleasantly to my ears and made +me feel very contented. Occasionally I thought of the European War as +the buzzing of mosquitoes around my head suggested the droning flight +of planes. It always seemed strange to me that humans can be social at +one moment and fired with the desire to destroy at the next. And as I +pondered this paradox of nature I was thankful that I lived in America +where there was so little discord. + +Some evenings Doc Turnbull would stop by in passing on his evening +round of patients and we would talk. I should say _he_ would talk for +most of the time I merely listened. He was a fat old man with a great +mop of white hair and very bushy brows. It was often impossible to see +his eyes but they were generally twinkling with good humour. He was not +a very cultured person for he was gruff, outspoken and perpetually +profane. However, even with his solecisms and epithets there was an +uncanny truth in whatever he said. Many of his homely observations +which at the time I decried I have since recognized to be correct. If +he were alive today, I would write to him and tell him that I have at +last discovered his greatness. + +"Pete," I can hear him saying, "people never thank you for the +truth. They expect you to lie; and if you don't live up to their +expectations.... Well, by the Jesus, they tie a tin can to your tail. +It's like a woman who asks you how she looks. If you don't praise +her ... off comes your head!" + +I ventured no comment to this because I had a sneaking feeling what he +was leading up to. Grateful as I was to Doc Turnbull, I did not want +him telling me how to run my business. I wanted to run it myself. + +"That's why you've just lost old lady Cahill as a customer, boy. +What? You didn't know you'd lost her? Well, you have. You see, Pete, +I've been treating that bitch for almost fifteen years. Treating +her for what, I don't know. There ain't really nothing the matter +with her except one helluva disposition. She just ain't happy 'less +she's got something to complain about. To use one of them new-fangled +names, she's a hypochondriac. Why, say, if I didn't hand her a fancy +Latin label for all her ailings, she'd up and have that young squirt +Carpenter over inside ten minutes. So, as far as I'm concerned, she's +suffering from a chronic _omnia gallia in tres partem_ complicated by +a slight _e pluribus unum_." Doc paused and spit reflectively before +adding, "You shouldn't have tipped her off that what I prescribed for +her was only a mixture of salt, bicarb and water. She raised hell, I'm +telling you. I had to change it to sugar, bicarb and water. And she was +so peeved at you for telling her she looked the picture of health that +I just know she'll take her trade somewhere else." + +I am reluctant to admit that there were other incidents like the one +described. At least five or six times I was unwittingly instrumental +in getting the Doc in hot water with his patients, not realizing that +there was such a thing as being _over_-sympathetic. I was certain that +it would make any person happier to know that there was nothing really +serious about his or her condition. How little I knew of life! But Doc +was always forgiving and while occasionally disgusted with me for being +so inept a pupil, he never ceased his frequent visits to my home until +after my marriage. + +Anita never liked Doctor Turnbull and I am positive he sensed it. After +he had gone home, she would very often become abusive. Also, whenever +I failed to hang up my clothes or neglected to wipe my feet before +entering the house she would accuse me of rapidly becoming "a pig like +that Turnbull quack." In the beginning, I tried to put in a quiet word +of defense for the old fellow who was my friend, reminding her that +were it not for him the drugstore would fail. Soon, though I took to +holding my tongue. It only enraged Anita and, being a person set in +her opinions, it did little good trying to make her like him as I did. +Besides, since I was in love with her, it always distressed me to see +her upset. Hence, Doc's visits became fewer, longer intervals elapsed +between them, and soon he did not come at all. The only chats I ever +had with him thereafter were at the store when I was too busy and he +too much in a hurry to linger long. + +But to get back to Anita. I first set eyes upon her on April 17, +1917, when business was booming and the nation was infected with war +hysteria. You may think it strange that I am able to remember the exact +date some twenty years later; but I have in my hand the prescription +she brought in to be filled. It was made out to Miss Anita Hunt by Leo +Carpenter, M.D., and called for a capsule (terpin, hydrate and codeine) +generally useful in relieving a minor chest congestion. I remember that +when she passed it over the counter she remarked that she was paying +the price for an early swim in the lake. + +I will spare you her description. Besides, you have probably seen her +pictures in the newspapers and marvelled at her beauty. One of those +pictures was taken shortly after we were married so you can see why my +heart stopped beating as I looked into her eyes. I think my hand must +have shook as I went about the business of filling the prescription. I +was infinitely grateful that there was no one in the store who would +cry, "Look at him blush!" for I feel sure that I would have dropped +through the floor. + +I remember that my fingers felt all thumbs as I worked, for her clear +voice distracted me. She casually remarked that she had just come to +town a few days before and asked me if I knew of any nice furnished +rooms. She went on to explain that at present she was stopping at the +Colonial House which was far too expensive for her new job at the Knit +Shoppe. After I had blurted out the suggestion that Mrs. Michaelson's +boarding house on North Tioga was perhaps the place she was seeking, +she thanked me warmly, handed me twenty cents for the package and left +the store. In my confusion I said nothing. The fact that I usually +charged a quarter for the capsules was forgotten. I only knew that the +girl was the most fascinating customer it had ever been my privilege +to wait on. + +I finished the remainder of the day in somewhat of a trance. I vaguely +recall having filled a prescription for fat Mrs. Burtleson and removed +a particle of dust from Joe Crespi's eye but the rest remains a blank. +My record book, which they have permitted me to keep in my cell and +which I hope will jog my memory of those days I am trying to describe, +states that I sold eight bottles of cough syrup on that particular day, +two hot-water bottles, six toothbrushes, fourteen rolls of bandages, +and that I filled twelve prescriptions. If I did, I can't remember. But +I know that when I sat near the lake that night and smoked with old Doc +Turnbull, I found myself strangely inattentive and, for the first time, +glad when he went home. + +I was thinking how wonderful it might be for any man to call such a +woman "wife." The usual vision of pipe, slippers and soft music on the +gramophone, a large dog, the evening paper and Anita darning socks +lingered to drug my mind; pleasant pictures even though slightly +absurd. I slumped down in my chair and smoked cigarette after cigarette +until it was very late. One by one the lights across Cayuga winked out. +The faint breeze that had been present all evening gradually whipped +itself into a wind. In the elms the night crickets fell silent and only +the quiet slap of the ripples on the shore came to my ears. + +It was not until after I had sneezed several times that I realized I +was catching cold. But more important still, it dawned on me that I was +falling in love. I rose from the chair, cramped and stiff, went into +the house and took two aspirin tablets before crawling sleepily into +bed. + + * * * * * + +During the weeks that followed Anita became the most popular girl in +town. She often came into my store just before closing time in the hot +evenings for some ice-cream or a bottle of cool soda. Usually she was +with young Doctor Carpenter whom I had known at medical school. + +Carpenter was a pleasant enough chap and I rather liked him--despite +Doc Turnbull's disgruntled remarks. He was the son of the town's +wealthiest realtor whose poor health forced him to spend much of +his time away from home at various resorts and spas. Therefore, Leo +generally lived alone, surrounded by servants in the big brick house on +the Heights. The boy was tall and handsome with a neat blond moustache. +It was his habit to finger it whenever he was perplexed. I recall +hearing the story that one day he was called into consultation at the +request of one of Doc Turnbull's patients. Leo took so long to arrive +at the simple diagnosis that the old medico became annoyed. "For the +love of God!" shouted Turnbull suddenly. "Will you quit yanking that +damned thing and tell the lady her bellyache's an acute appendicitis!" +In revenge, Leo spread it about town that old Doc's bedside manners +were as comforting as those of a callous veterinary. A feud ensued, +lasting for several months. Then it died as suddenly as it had started +and the two merely regarded each other with cold disdain. + +Of course it was only natural that Leo's good looks and custom +tailoring should make him popular with the town girls and even with +the young men. He was the proud owner of a Winton Six touring car, a +beautiful $2800 machine in which he made his professional rounds. In +the evenings during spring and summer it was his custom to pack his +car with young people and roar away in the direction of the Tompkins +Country Club. I say, _in the direction of_ because I was never invited +along on any of those rides. I am afraid that I was never popular with +any but the older people who were my customers and with whom I would +sympathetically discuss their various ailments. It may be that I was +too serious about myself and my little store; but I did want to succeed +and often I would dream of the time when the store would be larger. + +You may be sure that I went through considerable agony watching the +girl with whom I was in love constantly being escorted by the handsome +physician. The more times I saw her in his company the more I loved +her and the less attention I paid to business. My regular patrons soon +noticed my distraction. Doc Turnbull, with his customary rare insight +into human nature, almost hit upon my trouble. "You should soon be +thinking of getting married, son," he grunted as he chewed away at his +cigar. "We all need the womenfolk, you know. It ain't natural for you +to sweat all day in your dope-shop and then go home and cook your own +grub. Look around and pick yourself a slave!" + +I tried to cover up my embarrassment by offering the jocular comment: +"And be hen-pecked like you? Not on your life!" + +Turnbull winced. "Oh, a man can be happy," he insisted, "even though he +_has_ got a wife. That is, provided he knows the formula for marital +bliss." He paused, waiting for me to express the desire to hear this +formula but I am afraid my mind was wandering again. "Up to forty, +double bed; forty to fifty, single beds; fifty to sixty, separate +rooms; above sixty, separate homes." + +I laughed at this and asked him how old _he_ was. "Me? Oh, that's for +those who can afford it. You can't get rich shoving pills down people's +throats ... unless you've got a tricky moustache." + +Hurriedly, I changed the subject. I did not want him to start +discussing Carpenter. It might lead to mention of Anita. It had somehow +leaked out that they were already engaged and rumor had it that they +contemplated an undelayed marriage. + +In a small town a drugstore is invariably the center of +gossip--barber-shops running a close second--and I am sure that I was +the most informed person in town. I was always the first to know things +and very often people would ask me questions about what so-and-so +intended to do. Not wishing to be involved in the spreading of +malicious gossip, it was my policy to look innocent and even surprised +that they expected me to know. + +To the remarks I overheard concerning Anita and Dr. Carpenter I took +little heed. It would never do for anyone to suspect my own interest +in the girl. Folks might laugh or guy me about her. Besides it might +get back to Anita. So I contained myself as best I could and tried +to dismiss the remarks casually. In this, I pride myself on being +successful. Up until the day I married Anita before the Justice of the +Peace no one uncovered my true feelings. + +One Saturday afternoon Leo and Anita were in the store and fell to +quarreling. I can't remember how the argument started exactly but it +became more vigorous as the minutes passed until I felt embarrassed +witnessing it. I retired to the drug room, hoping that a customer +would come in so that they either would have to cease their quarrel +or continue it some place else. From what I overheard I gathered that +Anita wanted to attend some party or other and Leo did not. This seemed +to me to be a trivial cause for a scrap but, at length, Anita stamped +out of the store, slamming the screen door viciously behind her. Leo +remained where he was. + +As I came from the back, carrying some packages of supplies to explain +my disappearance from the scene of the dispute, Leo made the remark: +"Well, if that's the way she feels, to hell with her!" Then he turned +to me. "Aren't women the limit, Pete? Treat them nice, and the first +thing you know they think they own you!" + +From that time on, I am afraid I entertained the notion that Leo was +not in love with her; and that if she was capable of ranting at him the +way she had, the affair would not last long. I did not know then that +passion plays strange tricks on people. I did not know that the ones +who hate hard, love hard. + +The following day I learned that Anita had gone to the party unescorted +and, although the weather was too cold to be suitable, had taken a +swim. To my disappointment, I also learned that they had made up later +on and had driven off in his car for the remainder of the evening. + +Indeed, the graph of my hope was erratic; first up and then down as +weeks rolled by. Whenever she would come into the store to purchase +some item she would smile pleasantly and direct at me only those +impersonalities which had to do with the temperature or the weather. +Only once did she say, "And how are _you_ today?" Fearful that in a +moment of weakness I might let slip something which would give me +away, I retreated behind my best storekeeper's manner. + +The opinion might be formed by this time that I am something of a stoic +and, except for one instance which I set down at this point, I think I +did rather well in concealing my love. But I could scarcely keep myself +from vaulting the counter and striking Doctor Carpenter the day he +walked into my store and requested that I sell him a certain article +which, I had no doubt, he intended to employ in wooing the woman for +whom I yearned. Naturally, I did no such thing. Instead, I controlled +my temper and curtly informed him that I was completely sold out of +what he wanted. I think he looked at me in a puzzled way. My tone, +I suppose, was quite the reverse of the usual deferential manner I +adopted when speaking to customers. + +In that the doctor weighed fully twenty-five pounds more than I did, +and was well respected as an amateur boxer, you may draw the conclusion +if you like that I controlled myself because I was afraid of reprisals. +Carpenter was not the type of man to permit himself to be struck +without retaliating. But the truth of the matter is that at the moment +I was too enraged to think of what bodily harm any such action on my +part would involve. I held myself in check only because I knew it would +give me away. + +Through the plate-glass window, I watched the doctor cross the street +and enter Ray Cavender's place, proceed to the back of the store and +emerge a few minutes later putting something into his vest pocket. I +felt sick to my stomach and a little dizzy. I locked up the drug room +and, when my errand-boy returned from a delivery, I ordered him to take +charge of the place for the rest of the day. + + * * * * * + +The following events which immediately preceded my marriage seem now +to have happened with incredible swiftness but I imagine the days must +have appeared intolerably long at the time. My prescription record +informs me that on June 28, 1917, I began to make myself sleeping +powders out of mild opiates. Since I am usually a sound sleeper, this +suggests that I tossed and turned on my mattress as my mind tortured +me by conjuring up visions of Anita in the arms of my rival. + +It was Mrs. Michaelson, Anita's landlady, who first brought me the news +that Anita and Carpenter had set the Fourth of July as their wedding +day. My heart sank when I heard this. In despair I tried to persuade +myself that it was merely a rumor without the slightest foundation +of fact. To more or less substantiate my theory, Henry Liscombe, the +County Clerk, who frequently patronized my store, had made no mention +of issuing a license to the couple and Henry was the town's most +garrulous individual. That night, however, I learned to my dismay that +Anita had quit her job at the Knit Shoppe, telling her employer that +she was going to be married. + +As I was locking up on the evening of July 2nd I again encountered +Mrs. Michaelson. Being something of a pet of hers from the days when +I helped her carry bundles from the fruit stand (where I used to work +during summers) to her buggy, she was accustomed to confide in me many +interesting tidbits concerning her lodgers. So it was not without +precedent that she related to me, almost verbatim, the terrible scrap +that had taken place between Anita and the doctor in her back parlor. + +"When he showed her the telegram, Peter, I thought the roof would come +off! She was that mad! I was in the dining-room, mind you, setting the +places for supper. I couldn't help overhearing the whole thing!" + +That the Michaelson dining-room was immediately adjacent to the back +parlor, I was well aware; and she could very easily have retired to the +kitchen had she so desired. But, of course, I did not suggest this to +her. I was only too grateful for any news which had to do with Anita's +plans. + +"Never in all my born days did I see a body so unreasonable," went +on the old lady. "Here's that poor boy Leo with a telegram saying +that he'd better hike himself out to Phoenix right away if he wants +to see his father alive; and here's that Hunt baggage insisting that +they _both_ go ... after the wedding, of course! Well, Leo minced no +words, I can tell you! He said: 'That would be nice, wouldn't it? +Having a honeymoon while my dad's dying. I'm sorry, Anita. We'll have +to postpone getting married until I come back.' At that she flies +completely off the handle! But c-o-m-p-l-e-t-e-l-y! 'If you run off now +without taking me, after I quit my job and told everyone I was getting +married on the Fourth, you can stay away forever for all I care!' Well, +Peter, to make a long story short, as I've got to get back to the house +and see to it that that hired girl's cleaned up the kitchen before +sneaking home, Leo turns on his heel and leaves her standing there. +They were supposed to go out somewhere, too. I don't know if he'll +go through with his trip or not but there's a train out to New York +tonight at nine and if he isn't aboard it, I'll be mighty surprised!" + +Mrs. Michaelson hurried off down State Street, little dreaming that she +had caused a great jubilance to well up within me. My mental scoreboard +chalked up another point for my team. + +That same evening after I had cooked and eaten my solitary meal, I +decided to take a little stroll. It had been very warm all day but, +with the going down of the sun, a welcome cool descended, bringing me +renewed energy. This was rather a phenomenon because I usually felt +totally spent after ten hours on my feet, and walking, whether in +the evening cool or not, was an activity it was my habit to avoid. +Nevertheless, on that night I found myself irresistibly drawn to the +railroad station. + +Arriving there, I lingered in the shadows of the closed freight +warehouse, my attention riveted on the lighted interior of the +waiting-room. I looked at my watch. It was ten minutes to nine. I was +badly in need of a smoke but I did not want to risk revealing myself to +anyone who might happen by. From where I stood I could not of course +see the lights of Ithaca's famous crescent but the Trumansburg road +rose in a steep, broken line of lights, reminding me, for no apparent +reason, of Jacob's ladder. A west-bound freight, probably going to +Buffalo and Chicago, thundered past. The headlight of the locomotive +rested upon me for a brief moment and then flashed away. + +Soon I was rewarded for my patience. Doctor Carpenter stepped out of +the waiting-room and onto the platform, carrying two satchels. Far up +the track the whistle of a train came faintly mournful to my ears. I +looked around for some sign of Anita. I could see none. If she was +there, she must be still inside the waiting-room. The two pieces of +luggage, though, were a bad omen. Moreover, the doctor kept turning his +head this way and that as if he expected someone. + +Soon the train ground and hissed to a stop. A porter descended and +lifted the two bags into the Pullman and as the conductor cried, "All +'board!" and waved a signal to the engineer, the doctor reluctantly +climbed up as the train gathered speed. + +Well! No words of mine can express how elated I was! I could have +sung and, strangely enough, that is exactly what I did do. My voice, +at best, has never been much more than a nasal groan which, as it +increases in volume, gets worse. As the train disappeared in the +distance, its red tail-lantern shrinking smaller and smaller until it +could no longer be seen, I let loose my joy with such fervor that every +person within a mile of the station must have been seriously alarmed. I +remember the station-agent came out onto the platform and recognizing +me asked: "What's the trouble, Pete? Ya sick?" + +Of course I recalled that Carpenter and Anita had scrapped before and +had made up within a few hours. But this, I hoped, would be a permanent +rift which they would never allow their prides to bridge. While my own +suit was in no way furthered, at least I knew my most formidable rival +was temporarily out of the picture, leaving the field clear. It was now +up to me. + +But how? I had never had any great experience with women and, except +for one or two occasions at medical school when, in the company of some +classmates, I visited a house of ill repute, absolutely no intimate +relations with them at all. + +This problem occupied my mind that night as I returned to my house +and took up my usual position near the lake. That I could never be +happy without Anita had long ago impressed me; and I knew that unless +I worked fast the doctor might return and make up with her. Yes, or +she might become infatuated with someone else. There were so many nice +young men in town, business people and wealthy students from up on the +hill. I wondered at my conceit in hoping to succeed. + +Fortunately, the problem solved itself without my having to devise +any schemes by which she would fall in love with me and consent to a +marriage. And the very night that marked Doctor Carpenter's departure +from the scene marked the fulfillment of all my dreams. + + * * * * * + +I must have dropped off to sleep in my deck-chair for several hours on +that night of July 2nd; for when I opened my eyes the absence of any +lights across the lake made it obvious that midnight was a thing of the +past. I felt refreshed after my nap and, as my mind awakened and became +conscious of what had transpired earlier, I felt even buoyant. Despite +the fact that I would have to be at the store earlier than usual the +next morning to receive a shipment of fireworks, I decided not to turn +in. I was not the least bit sleepy and anyway I wanted to think. + +But on my back porch I had left a light burning and it annoyed me. +Although my back was to it, the yellow glow coming over my shoulder +seemed to intrude upon the welcome comfort of the darkness. The night +was unusually dark for that season of the year. The sky was a vast +expanse of mourning veils, uncontaminated by a moon or even by stars. +And the air was almost cold. + +Over Cayuga the wind seemed to moan the syllables of the lake's name +and the rustling leaves of the trees sounded like the applause of some +vast audience. Even with these noises, I got the strange feeling that +it was quiet. + +Always having been an ardent admirer of Nature and never having failed +to be impressed by each and every one of her miracles, I am also sadly +ignorant of her--like most people. I have never been able to remember +the names of stars or trees or to distinguish types of birds; but I +have always appreciated their beauty and often thought how strange the +world would be if there were no such things. At the moment, however, +even Nature could not force her way into my thoughts, occupied as they +were with Anita and the baffling problem of winning her. + +As I was about to extinguish the porch light, I was startled by the +sound of splashing in the lake. I left the light burning and made my +way to the shore. Something was emerging from the water. I could not +make out who it was or even if it was a human. At first I fancied it +might be some dog belonging to a neighbor. + +"Who's there?" I called, feeling very silly. + +I was rewarded by a groan of relief. "So you've awakened at last, have +you? I've been paddling around for over an hour! Didn't you hear me +call?" + +The voice shook me and I fumbled in my pockets for a match. I might +have spared myself the effort because I recognized her voice instantly. +The match flared and before it flickered out, burning the tips of my +fingers, I saw that she was in a bathing suit and shivering with the +cold. + +"Miss Hunt!" I gasped. + +"That's right," she replied, her teeth chattering. "And whoever you are +I'm sorry to have got you out of bed. I'm afraid I lost my bearings in +the dark. Am I anywhere near town? Lucky I saw your light." + +I struck another match so that she would recognize me. Needless to say, +this unexpected visit seemed most portentous and left me temporarily +tongue-tied. Of all the persons who might have been swimming in the +lake, it had to be Anita! And of all the places she might have come +ashore, it had to be at my own landing! I almost began to believe in +God. + +Now when I look back on it I can only regret that she came that night. +If I had not left that light burning, in all probability she would have +drowned or landed at some other point. In any case I am certain we +would never have been married and the marriage, I reiterate, was the +direct cause of my undoing. + +"I'm Peter Thatcher," I managed to say. + +"Yes, of course. I know. The druggist man." + +I became suddenly aware that her mouth was blue with the cold and that +her arms were goose-flesh. "Will ... will you come inside, Miss Hunt? +You've got to warm yourself or you'll catch your death of cold. I ... I +live alone here," I stammered apologetically as an after-thought. + +As I uttered this, I was sure she would refuse. Ladies did not visit +bachelor's homes unchaperoned in the dead of night. + +"I was waiting for you to invite me in." And she accepted my invitation +with a celerity that was not surprising when you saw how chilled she +was. + +"I was only thinking of the proprieties." I removed my Norfolk jacket +and placed it about her wet shoulders--not without misgivings because +the shirt I was wearing was rather shabby and none too clean. She +murmured her thanks. + +"Proprieties? I'm only interested in something warm." + +"Watch out for those sharp stones," I warned her. "You'll cut your +feet. I've been promising myself to clear this beach for years but +somehow I never got around to it." + +Guiding her with a hand on her bare elbow, we soon reached the house. I +led her around into the living-room. "If you'll wait here, Miss Hunt, +I'll run upstairs and find you some towels and maybe something to warm +you up inside. I'm afraid that there are no logs for this fire-place +but ... but it might be warmer in the kitchen if I light the stove." I +remember that I felt ashamed to suggest that. In those very formal days +one did not entertain their guests in the kitchen. Now, I understand +that parties are given in attics, cellars, kitchens and even in hotel +bedrooms. Such affairs twenty years ago were almost unheard of. + +But Anita smiled reassuringly. "O, let's do go into the kitchen. I'll +be lighting the stove while you fetch the towels." + +I must confess that I am not much of a housekeeper, and during the +years I lived alone, my place was generally very untidy. It was my +custom to hire a scrub-woman on the first of each month to do a +thorough job of hoeing out. Frequently, by the end of the month I would +find myself without a clean dish to eat from and all of my towels +black with shoe polish. Therefore I was infinitely grateful that this +was the _second_ of the month. With everything in good order the little +house was very presentable and I know that Anita was delighted with it. + +I changed my shirt while I was upstairs before I did anything else and +then I combed my hair. Besides three fresh towels, my best bathrobe and +a pair of slippers, I also unearthed a bottle of rare brandy which I +had set aside for some state occasion. I have never been an habitual +drinker of hard liquor, being partial to beer and light wines; but I +thought a glass or two of brandy might do her good after her cold swim. +Then too I was hoping that the spirit might loosen her tongue and put +us on more intimate terms ... make us friends. + +This accident of Fate, I realized only too well, could never happen +again. Therefore I was determined to make good use of the opportunity +and not sit there like a ninny, uttering asinine generalizations and +getting nowhere. I knew that I must make that night the key which some +day would open the door of her heart to me. + +I hurried back to the kitchen. Anita had the stove going full blast +and already it was comfortably warm. She thanked me for the towels and +without further ado, fell to rubbing herself vigorously. As she removed +her rubber cap (which I at once recognized as part of my merchandise) +her lovely yellow hair cascaded down her neck and shoulders. I had +never seen her this way before and she looked so unspeakably beautiful +with her hair unbound that I could not withhold an exclamation of +delight. The urge was strong in me to cast aside all restraint, to take +her in my arms; but she was my guest, at the moment helpless, so I +refrained. Besides, the inhibitions of civilization are hard to break +through. Seldom in my life had I given way to impulse. At the moment, +however, I had to summon the full force of my restraint. + +She flashed me a quick glance and for a moment I thought she would be +angry. I cursed myself silently for a fool. But, instead she laughed +and said: "Turn your back. I want to get out of this wet suit." + +"Wait," I cried. "I'll go, if you like." + +"O, don't bother. I trust you." + +I turned around to face the wall and heard the crisp snap of elastic +and the rustle of heavy taffeta. It gave me a pleasant sensation, her +saying that she trusted me. It proved that she considered me something +more than a chance acquaintance. There was also a breath-taking joy in +the knowledge that we were in the same room together while she engaged +in the intimate task of drying her naked body. My honorable intentions +were somewhat frayed and stretched to the breaking-point. For this +reason my voice sounded somewhat high and excited as I spoke to the +wall, striving to appear casual and completely at ease. "I'm afraid I +haven't much to offer you in the way of refreshment," I said, "except +that brandy on the table or some tea. I never drink coffee." + +"Did you say brandy? Lead me to it! You can turn around now." + +As I obeyed, I started to say, "It's not very good brandy." I never +finished the sentence. That first glimpse of her in my bathrobe--I'll +never be able to forget. The robe was dark blue, matching her exquisite +eyes; and her hair, tumbling down it.... But I have resolved not to go +into raptures. I am sure that she noticed my appreciative stare for all +the time we sipped away at our bandy I felt her eyes on me. + +Thirty minutes passed. "Perhaps you're hungry?" I suggested. + +"Famished! I could eat a horse." + +"Well, I haven't any horse," I told her, "but if you like...." + +Later, over bacon and scrambled eggs which she had insisted that she +prepare herself, I summoned up enough courage to say: "But you haven't +told me how you happened to be swimming so late at night. The water was +certainly too cold for you to have enjoyed it." + +A slight shadow flitted across her face. "I always go swimming when I'm +angry. That's the only way I can get it out of my system. Cold water +does wonders to my awful disposition!" She tried to laugh convincingly. +Of course she did not suspect that I knew what was wrong. And I never +told her that I had heard she had quarreled with Doctor Carpenter. + +"I don't believe it!" + +She looked up at me with a frown. "What? That I go swimming every time +I get a grouch on?" + +"No. That you've got an awful disposition." + +She seemed pleased at that. "Oh, you don't know me yet!" + +My heart thrilled at the "yet." + +"My misfortune," I returned, feeling that I was talking like some +hackneyed, if gallant, character in a cheap novel. "But how do you +manage in winter?" + +"Oh, I don't, really. You see I'm from the South where you can get +angry as often as you like without catching pneumonia or bunking your +head on a cake of ice." + +That got us onto the subject of her past life. I found out that she +came from Florida--Palatka--and had come North after her father died. +"But you don't sound like a Southerner," I said. "I haven't noticed +the slightest trace of an accent." + +"Why should I have?" she retorted. "My dad was an English teacher in +the Palatka school. What do you think? Only Yankees can speak the +King's English?" + +Lest the Civil War break forth anew, I changed the subject. + +Another hour flew by. I scarcely realized the passage of time. By +virtue of the four fingers of brandy I had consumed, I had grown more +bold and I was commencing to call her by her first name. She, sadly, +did not reciprocate. I remained, as far as she was concerned, nameless. +But this was better than being addressed as "Mr. Thatcher." + +We had discussed at some length the matter of her getting back to Mrs. +Michaelson's and had arrived at the decision that she had much better +wait until morning. I owned no car and she could not possibly walk that +long distance through the streets clad only in bathing costume and +wearing my slippers. Furthermore, it would not be right to awaken Mrs. +Michaelson at this ungodly hour of the morning and ask her to wrap up +one of Anita's dresses. Therefore, it had been agreed that we'd sit up +the few remaining hours until daylight, at which time I would pay a +call on Mrs. M. + +To my way of thinking, Anita proved herself to be a very good sport in +her predicament. Should anyone find out that she had been in my house +the entire night, clad only in my bathrobe, a dreadful scandal was +sure to follow, and her name, as far as Ithaca was concerned, would +be ruined. Nevertheless, Anita maintained a sublime indifference to +this possibility ... and even a reckless disregard for the accepted +conventions. I must admit that this rather surprised me. I had not +thought of Anita as daring. + +I remarked that I was spiritually drunk that evening; I am loathe to +admit that that was not all. I also become quite drunk with brandy +and, I am afraid, so did Anita. As I have explained earlier, I am +not accustomed to hard liquors and, in congenially keeping up with +my pretty guest, I soon felt my tongue thicken and my head begin to +spin. Although my faculties dulled with the alcohol, they did not take +leave of me completely and I can remember the events which took place +between the time Anita splashed into my life and the moment I first +took her into my arms. However, if some of the moments seem vague in +description, you may put it down as a combination of too much drink and +too many years having elapsed since. But to me, this night stands out +with absolute clarity. It was the happiest night in my entire life. + +Now nobody respects a drunken woman. Hence, I had better remind you +that Anita had every reason to try to drown her sorrows that night. +Besides, she did not look or act drunk ... except that she cried +continually. But her face did not grow red and ugly, and this is +funny because I have since witnessed many of Anita's tantrums and she +certainly erases her good looks with her tears. + +"I hate him! Oh, I hate him!" she kept muttering between racking sobs. + +I tried to comfort her as best I could but my soothing words seemed +to pass unnoticed. As she babbled on, I found myself unconsciously +hanging on her words. I wished to plumb her depths, learn her true +feelings. While I recognized that she was not herself and might easily +say something she would later regret, I was afforded the delicious +sensation of hearing her denounce Leo Carpenter. Her very vehemence as +she spoke his name began to infect me. I commenced to hate him, too. + +Previously I had regarded his attentions to Anita only with jealousy +and distaste; and except for that day in the store when he had tried to +induce me to sell him a contraceptive, I harbored no great hatred for +the man. After all, he had never been anything but friendly to me and, +I daresay, had he suspected how I felt about Anita, he would not have +come into _my_ store on such an errand. + +Anita's wrath seemed genuine enough and I had no suspicions but that +she really despised the man. Had I not been so happy that her love +for him had died, I think I would have been a little alarmed at her +capacity for enmity. + +After her rage had exhausted her and had subsided into dry, +body-racking sobs, she leaned forward on the kitchen table with her +head buried in her arms. Before her, like some grisly tombstone, stood +the empty brandy bottle. She had wrapped the bathrobe so tightly around +her body that every line of her form was clearly defined. Through the +thin material her breasts showed. They quivered an accompaniment to her +choking convulsions. + +I moved over to her and stood behind her, stroking her head soothingly +as though she were a little child. I put an arm around her shaking +shoulders and whispered that it was all right, Carpenter was gone and +she would never have to worry about him again. My words, this time, +took effect. But not in the way I intended. She began to feel sorry +for herself. Wave after wave of self-pity swept over her until she was +repeating that old, familiar masterpiece of spoiled children: "Nobody +loves me!" + +I wanted to do something--I don't quite know what--to reassure +her. I wanted to pour out my love for her all at once and take the +consequences. But ... no words came and I found that I couldn't +galvanize myself into any action. Finally, I managed to sink to my +knees beside her chair and raised her head by tugging at her shoulders. +The bathrobe came loose, much to my dismay, and I caught a glimpse of +one curved thigh. With her face between my palms, I looked into her wet +eyes and said: "You're wrong, Anita. Somebody does love you." + +I don't think that she heard me. If she did, she gave no sign. She +continued to sob with her head against my chest and I pressed my lips +to her forehead, her cheek and then at last I kissed her mouth. + +It may appear disgusting that I should make love to a drunken woman, +too befuddled with alcohol to fully realize what was being done to her. +But remember that I was drunk myself. Even with this excuse, I am quite +ashamed to confess that my marriage was born in such a fashion. You can +readily understand why I have kept it a secret until now. + +I vaguely recall lifting her in my arms and carrying her up the narrow +winding stairs to my bedroom. And she must have been nude, for the +next morning I came across my bathrobe lying on the kitchen floor. + +Not wishing to delve into intimate details which normally should be +discussed only between the parties concerned, it would definitely be +misleading if I neglected to mention that when we eventually sobered +up, Anita did not appear so very horrified upon finding herself in bed +with me. On the contrary, she seemed to accept it as a matter of course +and, had I had any regrets for my actions before she became sober, they +swiftly took wing at her warm responses to my wooing. + +I became thoroughly convinced that she had fallen in love with me. +Moreover, if her mind was still filled with resentment because of +Doctor Carpenter's desertion, at least she did not mention his name +again. + +When I returned to the house before ten that day with a bundle of +her clothes, Anita was still in bed and sleeping soundly. The covers +were tucked tightly under her chin but one arm, round and very white, +dangled over the side. I stood and looked at her for a long time, +scarcely breathing. I could not believe that such a thing had come to +pass, that I, Peter Thatcher, had possessed the one woman in all the +world. + +It was my plan not to awaken her. Since she no longer was employed +at the Knit Shoppe, there was no point in getting her up. But as I +deposited her clothes at the foot of the bed and turned to tiptoe out, +she called to me. + +"What time is it?" + +I whirled around and noticed that while she was certainly wide awake, +she was keeping her eyes tightly shut. I suppose that she did this out +of embarrassment. + +"Ten o'clock, Anita," I stammered. When she said nothing further, I +went on, "Is ... is there anything I can get you? Some ... some tea? +There's no coffee in the house." + +"No thanks. Nothing at all." + +"I've brought your clothes." + +"Thanks. I'll get up in a minute." + +"Oh, there's no great rush," I hurried on to say, lest she think that I +wanted her to vacate the premises which, you may be sure, was not my +wish. "Stay as long as you like. I.... It's nice having you here." + +"Thanks." + +I did not get to the store before half past ten that morning and +furthermore I didn't care. The place did not seem a bit attractive +to me and I did something that day that I had never thought of doing +before. I watched the clock. My errand-boy, a colored chap by the name +of Jiggs, remarked on my obviously distracted manner. "Boss," he said, +"you sure look like somethin' shot at and missed, you do. Yes, sir!" + +At five o'clock Anita made an appearance. I had half expected that she +would come around to the store. I couldn't think of any reason why +she should but.... Fortunately there were no customers present and I +immediately dispatched Jiggs on some needless errand so that we might +have privacy while I proposed to her. + +"Anita," I said after several false starts, "I want you to be my wife." + +I remember that she looked rather haggard and worn. There were faint +lines around her lovely eyes. I waited breathlessly for her to give me +her answer. + +"Why not?" she sighed. And while the tone she employed struck me at the +time as being somewhat unenthusiastic for one who was in love, I put it +down as just another sign that she had spent an enervating night. + + * * * * * + +We were married quietly on July 4th. I, myself, would have selected +another day but she would have none of it. "I planned on getting +married on the Fourth and the Fourth it shall be." Seeing how set she +was in this whim, I raised no objection although I did not like the +feeling that I was stepping into someone else's shoes. All through the +short ceremony I half expected the name Leo to slip from the Justice's +tongue instead of my own. + +I am not at all a superstitious person. Black cats and ladders and the +numeral 13 mean nothing to me. But in retrospect, marrying Anita on the +Fourth with firecrackers exploding out of doors and _Times_ headlines +reading: VICTORY FOR OUR NAVY IN 2 BATTLES, U-BOATS TWICE ATTACKED OUR +TRANSPORTS, OUR WARSHIPS SANK ONE, PERHAPS MORE, seems quite in keeping +with the turbulent events that ruined both our lives. + +I can recite the contents of that newspaper, _The Times_ of July 4, +1917, almost completely. You see, some practical joker phoned in the +news of our wedding, making it sound so important that it was printed +on the Society page. Mr. and Mrs. Peter Thatcher were not really "news" +then. Now they are--only not Society news. Murderers and their victims +rate much more space. Anyway, on July 4th President and Mrs. Wilson +went yachting as far as the mouth of the Potomac, Herbert Hoover warned +the public through the medium of the press that "America Must Save to +Win War," Gimbels advertised a Clearance Sale of ladies' parasols, and +I married Anita. + +No sooner had the ceremony ended, it seemed to me that Anita began to +make changes. I suppose all brides do that. I guess they like to have +some physical evidence about that by the token of marriage they are +effecting a radical metamorphosis not only in their husbands' lives but +in his effects as well. For several days following Anita's moving into +the house I stumbled over pieces of furniture which she had rearranged +and I felt very strange sleeping in what had always been my mother's +bedroom. After her death I had never thought of bunking there but had +kept my familiar little room at the head of the winding stairs. + +"Don't you think that this table would look better over by that +window?" she asked. + +"Oh, yes, Anita," I would reply. + +"No.... I guess not. I'll try it in that corner." + +"It looks fine there, Anita." + +"Well, it will do for now." + +On one or two occasions I kissed her while we were shifting the +furniture back and forth. Despite the dustcloth wound around her head, +the old house-dress and a pair of my slippers which were ludicrously +large on her feet, she looked very beautiful and I couldn't resist +taking her into my arms. However, when I did my best to maneuver her +onto the couch, she would push me away gently. "Oh, please, Peter! +We're so busy and I'm so tired." + +I think that only a few weeks elapsed between the day we got married +and the day I rented the vacant bakery shop adjacent to my store. I had +made up my mind to celebrate my good fortune by enlarging the business. +Soon the workmen were at work, tearing down the thick wall separating +the two shops and while this was going on I could not conduct business. +So it was decided that Anita and I would take a belated honeymoon. I +suggested Montreal but Anita had ideas of her own. + +"I want to spend all the time we can allow ourselves right in New +York City. We can go to the theatre every night and eat in the fine +restaurants and shop and...." She rambled on and on, becoming more +enthusiastic. When I reminded her that New York in summer was scarcely +the spot one would select for a vacation, she refused to listen. + +Luckily my finances were in good shape so we stopped at the Waldorf. +For two weeks we were miserable. The pavement and the walls of the +high buildings surrounding us were unbelievably hot that summer and +it seemed to me that we were slowly being baked in some great oven. +Nevertheless, Anita did not complain and tried to pretend to me that +she was enjoying herself. + +Every night found us in some stuffy theatre or cafe. We went to the +Ziegfeld Follies; we sat through "Hitchy-Koo," gasping for a breath of +air while Raymond Hitchcock, Grace LaRue, Leon Errol and Irene Bordoni +panted their speeches; but after a matinee of "The Thirteenth Chair," +when Anita expressed the desire to inspect the new William Desmond +film--"The Paws of the Bear" I think--I emphatically refused. She +sulked all evening. + +The trip itself would be unimportant had it not marked the birth of +Anita's yearning to live in New York. She did not suggest that we move +there--in so many words--but I was soon to note her waning interest in +the alterations I was planning to make in the store. While I was down +in the city, I ordered a very fine composition-marble soda fountain and +I was justly proud of my purchase. However, when I insisted that Anita +accompany me to the showroom to view it, she was totally lacking in +enthusiasm. + +"It's right down on Fourth Avenue, darling. We can hop a cab and be +there in five minutes." + +"I'll see it when it's up in Ithaca, Peter." + +Upon our return home, I lost no time in getting to the store for I +wanted to see what progress had been made in my absence. It was still +my dream some day to own a very large place--an elaborate place with a +long fountain and red-leather stools and a well-stocked drug department +with several clerks in white coats to wait upon customers. + +After a cursory inspection, I started home again. Anita had warned me +about being late for supper and I had lingered quite a while with Doc +Turnbull whom I had chanced to encounter. I hurried along down State +Street at a good clip. + +It was already growing dark as I passed the railroad station. The +lighted windows of a halted Pullman stretched like a string of yellow +beads far down the track. The train was preparing to creep out, +bound west; its engine snorted at ever decreasing intervals. The few +passengers who had alighted passed close to me, sweating beneath their +burdens of satchels and valises. They were all headed in the direction +from which I had come. + +"Travel," I chuckled to myself, "is not all it's cracked up to be. +Moving all the time, packing and unpacking, sleeping in cramped +quarters, trying to keep the dust out of your eyes and ears.... They +can have it. I'll stay here." + +One of the passengers looked very familiar and as he approached me +he saluted me with a cheerful wave of his hand. I squinted in his +direction. + +It was Leo Carpenter. + + * * * * * + +You can imagine what conflicting emotions took possession of me as I +continued toward home. Since my marriage I had not thought of him, so +busy was I in accustoming myself to a wedded state. Leo was something +out of the past--a smoked cigarette, a match which had flared for a +minute and then been extinguished. And while Anita, of course, had not +forgotten his existence, I was certain that she had dismissed him from +her thoughts. That she no longer cared for him, she had proven to me by +the solemn act of marriage. + +Yet, because we lived in a small community, we would have to rub elbows +with him often. It was a delicate situation and I was at a loss to know +the proper attitude to adopt. That Leo and Anita had been engaged was +common gossip; if we avoided contact with him it would seem as though +we were afraid of him. On the other hand, if we accepted him as a +friend and allowed him to call at our home, there might be malicious +rumors circulated that he still loved her and intended, if he could, to +win her away from me. + +Naturally I expected Anita to bear him a grudge and refuse to have +anything to do with him, but when I informed her that I had seen him, +she evinced no anger. Indeed she gave no sign that it mattered one way +or the other except that her hand shook a little as she cut me another +helping of pie. She offered no comments. Neither did I ask her for +any. Anita, I reasoned, would be capable of deciding what course to +pursue. As for myself, comfortably assured of my wife's devotion, it +did not matter how we treated Carpenter. + +There were two reasons, though, why I wished we could be friends with +him. First of all, I felt sorry for the fellow. He had lost what I had +won. Then, too, there was the store. Doctor Carpenter was a very good +customer. Like old Doc Turnbull, he brought me all his prescription +work. That trade alone netted me five hundred dollars a year and, in +the event that Anita decided to feud, he would be forced to trade at +Cavender's. + +The evening after his arrival he came into the place. I could see by +his face that the news had reached him. He looked pale and tensely +drawn and not at all the dapper man-about-town. Of course our marriage +might not have been the cause of it all. He was in mourning clothes. I +remembered about his father being ill. + +He came straight to the prescription counter with his hand +outstretched. "Congratulations, Pete," he said quietly. "I wish you +all the luck in the world. I know you'll make her happy." + +I hardly expected that he would be such a good sport about it. In his +place I knew that I would have been absolutely miserable. But then +I remembered that he had never loved her--or so it had struck me. +"Thanks, doctor. You bet I will. I suppose it was something of a shock +to you, eh? So sudden and all that!" + +"Yes. But that's the way things happen, you know. Suddenly." + +I looked at his black suit. "I'm sorry to hear that your...." + +He interrupted me before I could get any farther. I could see that he +wanted to change the subject. "Hmm. Store looks nice, Pete. But what +are you going to put in that big empty place?" He indicated the long, +bare strip where I intended to install my fountain when it arrived. + +"Secret, Doctor Carpenter. Come in next week and see for yourself." + +But he never did see it. Within a week, Carpenter closed up his big +house on the Heights, dismissed all the servants, recommended Doc +Turnbull to many of his patients, and enlisted in the army. Although +I enlisted shortly after, I never saw him again until a few weeks +ago--September 9, 1937 to be precise--in his handsome New York City +residence. + + * * * * * + +I bluntly admit that I am cowardly by nature; yet, despite this, I +was not drafted into the army. I volunteered. This is not a boast but +a statement of fact which, I presume, sounds paradoxical. But I have +met many like myself at the front who, listening to martial music and +the stirring speeches of wartime orators, could not resist rallying to +the colors. During many a night in muddy French dug-outs I wondered at +this rash act of mine. Volunteering had been so unlike me. At length it +dawned on me that I had done it to impress Anita. + +This seems to me to be the most logical reason because I have always +tried to impress her. I would never have dreamed of confessing my +timidity to her and, if she were still alive, I would not be confessing +it here. I remember that whenever a situation arose which required +firm handling, in her presence I would handle it firmly--instead of the +meek attitude I took when there were no witnesses. I am referring now +to the incident of the iceman, shortly after we were married. The man +had gotten into an argument with Anita over a late delivery. The food +in our ice-chest had spoiled and the tongue-lashing the man received +provoked him. He began to shout back at her insolently. I forced myself +to step in and ordered the fellow from the house. Curiously enough, he +obeyed. As he stood hesitantly in the open door, I shouted: "Get out +of here and don't come back!" After he had closed the door, I added +ferociously for Anita's benefit: "... or I'll dust off the furniture +with you, you worm!" + +All the eligible men in Ithaca were enlisting. Even students from up on +the hill and married men who were exempt. Although in my heart I knew +that I would make a poor soldier--being much more valuable at home, +keeping people fit--I was afraid that my reticence would be noticed. +I took to circling an entire block to avoid passing the enlistment +office on Seneca Street where a pretty town girl was drumming up +recruits. However, it did not matter so much what other people thought +of me, as long as Anita did not feel ashamed. + +One day when I came home from work I thought I'd test her. I figured +that her face would give her away if she really thought me a coward. I +mentioned the fact that I contemplated joining up. + +She did not throw her arms around my neck and beg me not to go as the +wives in plays did (and as I had hoped _she_ would do). She merely +nodded her approval and said: "Good idea, Peter. Uncle Sam needs +everyone. I've been thinking of joining the Red Cross. And don't worry +about the store," she went on quickly, "because that lame Murphy boy +has just graduated as a pharmacist. He can look after things until you +get back. The war can't last much longer now that we're in it." + +I saw then that there was no getting out of it. I silently cursed +myself for having left myself wide open. "But how do you know that Tom +Murphy...?" + +"Oh, don't worry, will you? He said he'd be only too glad to...." She +stopped in embarrassment. As my eyebrows went up in surprise, she +rushed on, "Oh, I knew you'd want to enlist sooner or later. So I +thought I'd sound him out before Ray Cavender thought of it." + +The following day as I stood in line before the recruiting office she +waited to one side. I remember that she was smiling--not broadly, but +only with the corners of her mouth--as though something amused her. I +think that she might have suspected my meek spirit and half expected +that I would make a break and run for it before it was too late! Of +course, I did no such thing; although I don't mind admitting that I +would have liked to have done so--and probably would have, had I not +foreseen the disgrace resulting from such an act. + +So I signed the enlistment papers with a great show of unconcern, +easily passed the physical examination, and rejoined Anita at the curb. +As we walked down Seneca toward North Albany where young Murphy lived, +my chest swelled with pride and my knees felt curiously weak. + +"Well, Peter," smiled Anita, "you're in the army now." + +"Yes," I replied. + +A few days later I received orders assigning me to Camp Mills, out on +Long Island, for training. I was to leave immediately. At the station +many of the men were hoping that their wives would not cry. Something +told me that Anita would not; but I was not so sure about myself.... + + * * * * * + +Anyway, late 1917 found me in France, a very bewildered apothecary +armed with a rifle in place of the familiar pestle. And a more peculiar +soldier never buttoned an ill-fitting uniform blouse over a quaking +heart. My quiet garden and the lake now were replaced by a filthy +trench, a sea of mud, tangled wire and the grim, ploughed furrows of +war. + +I will not bore you by going into a long dissertation on the causes, +results and horrors of international strife. More capable persons +have tried it before me to no avail. To the young, the exempt or the +uninitiated, war seems an adventure, a thrilling episode during which +one has the rare opportunity of becoming a hero. If that is so, all I +can say is that it was a thrill and an adventure I would prefer not +having again. And I am certainly not alone in this. + +Oh, yes, I can understand the quickening of the pulse whenever a +flag goes by and how handsome the boys look in their khaki and steel +helmets. But it is easy to feel heroic at home, far from the awful +front, surrounded by friends and pretty girls. I think that if recruits +were allowed one day of fighting before finally electing to join the +army, no country would be able to raise troops. + +But this is not a war story; it is a confession, if you wish to call +it that, of what led me to commit the crime of which I am supposed +to be guilty, and the war plays no part in it with the exception of +two incidents. One of them is the shell-shock I suffered; the other I +relate here. + +In my company were three men to whom I became very much attached. Two +of them--Carter and Mullins--were privates like myself. The third was +a huge fellow by the name of Wilkinson, my platoon sergeant. War and +the ever-present threat of death can forge close friendships, even +among people from different walks of life; but, I maintain, pinochle +can forge closer ones. We played through more than seven months of +front-line fire--the four of us--and it helped. At first I could not +keep my mind on the cards with the low rumble of the big guns and the +occasional screams of the German "minnies" in my ears; but when I saw +how unperturbed the others seemed, I felt ashamed to flinch and soon I +became almost as hardened to sounds as they were. + +Strange how four men can get together and become friends with no +more in common than a ragged deck of cards! Carter, in peace time, +was a shoe salesman; Mullins, a landscape gardener; and Wilkinson, a +policeman on the Yonkers force. Only infrequently did they mention +their professions. Carter once delivered a long and obscene monologue +on the subject of his regulation shoes. "I think they put hobnails on +the inside, too!" he grumbled. Mullins once or twice commented briefly +on the ravished landscape; and Sergeant Wilkinson, or "Sarge" as we +called him, never felt at home with a Springfield. At those times when +we had to mount the firing-step, he would pop away with his treasured +police revolver. I would stand beside him, firing round after round, +hoping that I was not hitting anyone. + +For war or no war, the world safe or unsafe for democracy, I could +not bring myself to want to kill anybody. Pointing a gun at a person +and pressing the trigger was still murder to my way of thinking. The +knowledge that I was legally entitled to do it did not seem to make the +slightest particle of difference. I did not hate anyone. Why should I +kill? + +Perhaps this was not a very patriotic attitude to take. Maybe I should +have taken a certain pride in killing off my country's enemies. But I +couldn't help feeling that the enemy ranks contained many young men +like myself into whose unwilling hands guns had been thrust. My own +life, up until the war broke out, had been spent in trying to relieve +pain, not to inflict it. But when I broached this subject, the Sarge +sniffed. "Either you fill their bellies with lead or they fill yours. +Take your pick." I solved the problem by keeping carefully out of the +line of fire whenever possible and by trying to miss each shot it was +my military duty to fire. + +One night in October, a second lieutenant came into our dug-out and +asked us to volunteer for a wire-cutting detail. "If you don't make too +much noise, there shouldn't be any trouble. The Boche are in Exermont, +drinking schnapps and eating pigs' knuckles and sauerkraut. I haven't +the foggiest notion why this wire must be cut unless we're going to +attack ... but orders are orders." + +The Sarge nodded affably and asked, "Is it all right with you guys?" + +Carter reached for his shoes without a word. Mullins, in disgust, threw +his cards face-up on the table. "You _would_ have to come in now and +bust up the first decent hand I've had in a month!" he grunted to the +lieutenant. + +I hesitated a second. Venturing out into noman's-land was something +I was not particularly anxious to do. But I felt four sets of eyes +turn my way. I tried my best to appear unafraid of the task which, I +knew very well, was within my province to refuse. "Oh, hell," I said +flippantly but with trembling lips, I'm afraid. "Why not? I could use a +breath of air." + +A shallow attempt at bravado but no one seemed to notice. + +A few minutes later the four of us squirmed over the trench parapet and +wiggled toward the wire entanglements. Luckily it was very dark and the +enemy opposite us were firing Very lights only once in a great while. +Notwithstanding, I was terribly frightened; so much so, that when I +caught my wrap-arounds on a strand of wire, I lost my head and yanked +them free with a loud ripping noise. Carter, Mullins and the Sarge +flung themselves face-downward on the soggy ground and lay still. I +quickly followed suit and heard Wilkinson cursing me roundly under his +breath. But when nothing happened, we resumed our cautious crawling. +My heart was pounding so hard against my chest that I felt certain it +could be heard by anyone within a mile of us. + +When at length we reached the wire we had been instructed to cut, the +four of us went into a whispered conference on our bellies. "You go off +to the right, Thatcher," the Sarge muttered between his teeth, "and get +into a shell-hole. Keep your eye peeled. For Chris' sake don't go to +sleep. The Heinies may have a party out, too. Mullins, you mosey over +to that stump on the left. Carter and I will tackle the wire." + +I was very glad to crawl into that shell-hole, believe me; and while +I didn't like the idea of being separated from the others, I was +infinitely grateful that I would be out of danger if shooting began. +However, no sooner did I flatten myself at the muddy bottom of the hole +when I felt something rub against my knee. Squinting into the inky +darkness, I drew my trench-knife, believing that I might have to kill a +rat. At that moment someone decided to fire up a light. + +I was lying beside a German private! + +He seemed as surprised as I was. We gaped open-mouthed at one another's +uniforms. Terror froze the blood in my veins for an instant; then +it galvanized me into action. I suddenly became conscious of what I +held in my hand and, as he muttered something guttural, I drove the +trench-knife deep into his neck. + +When you took up this book you expected a confession. Well, now you've +got one. That deed, in my own estimation, was a murder. You disagree? +It was self-defense? It really wasn't anything of the kind. He had +no weapon in his hand; neither did he show any sign that he meant to +attack me. But you still think I was right in killing him? I'm sorry, +but I don't understand such reasoning. If only someone would explain it +to me! Killing Anita who deserved to die--that was a crime? Killing a +boy whose only fault was having been born in Germany--that was not? + +Twenty years have passed since that awful night and this outrageous +misinterpretation of justice still remains to plague my logic. I have +asked everyone--priests, convicts, judges, cops--but no one seems to +know. Well, never mind. + +Ten short minutes seemed an eternity. I lay beside the man I had +killed, waiting for some signal from the Sarge. The enemy were firing +many more Verys now and that, I suppose, was the reason for the delay. +I tried to keep my eyes off the corpse but it was a difficult feat in +that small area. In my hand I still clutched the knife and, as light +after light went up, I stared horrified at the sticky blood that +covered my hand up to the wrist. I tried to wipe it off on my pants. + +My three comrades found me that way. The Sarge looked down at the body +and then patted me on the shoulder. "Nice work," he said in a whisper. +"You got him in the right place, kid. There was a Fritz party out +tonight. This guy must've been a look-out. We saw 'em in time. If this +baby had opened his yap, we'd all of us be pushin' up the daisies now." +Then he callously began to search the dead man's pockets. "Got to look +for maps and stuff," he explained. "Of course, he ain't carryin' any. +He's only a buck from the rear rank. But he might have a stogie on him +or a pack of butts." + +The next morning while I was shaving, I remembered that I had taken +a life. I peered at my reflection in the steel mirror, wondering how +much the deed had changed me. I knew that I had changed inside ... but +outside I looked the same. + +On the night of October 4, 1918 we made our bid for Exermont. I should +say, _they_ made _their_ bid; for I deserted. + +Deserted in the face of the enemy. Say it. Go ahead, I don't care. I +had had enough of the war. But before you condemn me, imagine what +might have happened if everybody had followed my example. There would +have been no more war. There would have been nothing left to shoot at. + +I lagged behind when we reached that ruined cemetery on the outskirts +of Exermont village. Machine-gun bullets were kicking up all around us +and shells were dropping, cutting off a retreat. I don't know when the +notion struck me that we were walking toward sudden and certain death, +but I was sure that nothing--not even a blade of grass--could escape +that heavy rain of lead. Taking advantage of the fact that it was dark +and there was a lot of confusion, I ducked into a convenient shell-hole +and allowed what was left of my company to go on without me. + +The last thing I can remember before I came to my senses in the little +French hospital was the ever-increasing whine of some great shell. A +five-point-nine. I could identify it by its sound. As it came down +upon me, making my ears vibrate, I tried to press my body into the wet +earth. My fingers frantically dug into the ground; my eyes filled with +mud; my teeth clenched until they hurt; and my bowels opened.... + + * * * * * + +Every soldier falls in love with his nurse. I, not much of a military +man anyway, did not. The war had not caused me to forget Anita and, +despite her very infrequent letters, my thoughts were ever full of her. +Yet, somehow, the picture was blurred, pleasurably blurred if you wish, +the imperfections blotted out. Moments dwelt on in memory, moments +very often of the flesh; memories of moments only to be whispered +when we were alone together. Desire is an insidious parasite gnawing +at one's body. And so, paradoxically enough, although it was Anita who +kept me away from women who could be had for the taking, women like +the pockmarked roads of France over which an army marched, it was also +Anita who made me glaringly conscious of a need for women. Celibacy is +the pathway to depraved thoughts, even as war is the pathway to power +of depraved minds. The very fact that Anita wrote so seldom made me +want her more. Man usually kills the thing he loves, and cherishes that +which ultimately destroys him. In the trenches, with death ever near +like a white bird flying, it was not so hard to hold one's emotions in +check. So frantically were we endeavoring to cling to life, we wooed +and clung to her as though she were our mistress. Then, too, we could +always look forward to being relieved, new troops to supplant us in +this war that was merely a prelude to all other wars, and then--a few +days in Paris. Actually, the fact that few of us ever got to Paris was +of little importance. Paris was a symbol. It represented any woman's +arms. + +Lest you suspect otherwise and visualize my nurse as some homely +harridan, I would like to make it clear that Mademoiselle Monet was a +very attractive person, one with whom many a man might fall in love. +And pray do not think that I was viewing her with the astigmatic eyes +of war which distorted everything. My nurse was truly beautiful. + +Furthermore, Gilberte Monet was in love with me. + +How this happened, I cannot explain. There have been many jokes +made about French girls. There is the story that they considered +it a patriotic duty to sleep with each and every one of the Allied +troops from the brigadier generals right on down the line. Gilberte +was not one of those and her love for me in no way hinged upon my +uniform. Well, whatever her reason for loving me, I only know that +when I eventually became aware that I was in a long, white ward, a +friendly-looking dark-eyed girl in nurse's garb was bending over the +bed and whispering some strange, incomprehensible syllables which she +later told me meant: "So you are awake at last, my darling." + +Her voice was gentle, soothing like the voice of a mother speaking +softly to her frightened little boy who lay hurt and shivering on his +bed, shrinking from imagined horrors. And I was that boy--but the +horrors were ghastly realities. No war has ever been won, not even by +the conquerors; and how can one describe that gray, terror-splashed +tumult that rages in the frontiers of the mind; that frontier where +reason locks with reality? Beyond the trenches lies a region like unto +the world in the beginning, without form and void. This I know, for I +have been there. + +Yes, Gilberte Monet loved me and it was good to be loved; especially +good while I lay broken mentally and physically, afraid to die, yet +more afraid to live in a world gone mad. + +You may laugh if you like. I wouldn't blame you at all. It does seem +ludicrous that I, a timid, small-town druggist could so play havoc with +a woman's heart. I am certainly no Don Juan. + +I was the only American in the hospital and I must have been there +quite a long time because none of the other patients were there when I +was brought in. The first thing I learned was that the Armistice had +been signed and that the war was at an end. You may be sure I rejoiced. +But the news that my entire company had been wiped out at Exermont +greatly disheartened me. + +Although I was out of danger of death, my mind was periodically unsound +and my memory as well. Sometimes for hours I would forget who I was, in +which ward I belonged and the name of my nurse. During those periods +I would suffer indescribable mental anguish until Nurse Monet came to +claim me. I would always recognize her and in a minute everything would +become clear again. I took to wheeling my chair after her wherever she +went. She did not seem to mind. + +Many evenings the nurse and I would be in the hospital garden. It was +very lovely there with the green lawn and the cultivated flower beds +and the stone fountain which played incessantly. She would sit beside +my wheel-chair and coax me to sing to her. My nasal interpretations of +"K-K-K-Katy" and "Over There" sent her into fits of laughter and she +never seemed to tire of them. I would laugh with her until my shrapnel +wounds began to hurt. To this day, whenever I undress for bed and +notice the scars on my left leg and thigh, I think of the evenings in +the garden with Gilberte Monet. + +One evening in particular would be much better forgotten; and I would +not mention it all were it not for my firm resolution to be frank. It +happened so naturally and so sweetly that I can scarcely believe it was +an adultery. Yet.... It will be hard to describe. I can only tell you +what we did--and that may sound very ordinary--but what we did and what +that night did to me is the important issue. That half-hour has since +served as a standard by which I weigh love to ascertain its value. +Gilberte's love was real, not feigned. It could, and did, weather +anything--even her realization that I could not reciprocate. + +Yes, she gave herself to me. And what is more, no one cared. Who cared +what anyone did during those topsy-turvy years--like roulette with the +play for human chips? The hospital staff was too preoccupied with a +macabre puzzle to be disturbed over absurdities connected with a normal +human function. They were attempting to put wrecks of men together +again and, far too frequently, important pieces were missing. + +And the important missing part in my own case was Anita. Gilberte +helped me to fill that gap, for which I shall be eternally grateful. +My only regret is the night I am trying to describe. There, and there +only, did we overstep the boundaries beyond which we should never have +passed. If I had loved Gilberte and not been in love with another woman +it would have been quite all right. But I never loved her and, since +she loved me, it must have hurt her no end to discover that she was +merely receiving the crumbs from Anita's table. + +However, it is too late to think about such things now. Even if we had +known, I doubt if we could have prevented what happened. Before either +of us realized quite what was happening, we found ourselves stretched +full-length on a secluded strip of lawn, protected by the enveloping +darkness. Gilberte's uniform was unfastened at the breast and my cheek +rested on her satiny flesh. I became suffused with a warm glow and +the intoxicating belief that nothing mattered but this one very human +moment. I kissed her on the mouth--the first time I had ever done so. +She responded by tightening her grip and literally melting to me. I +removed one arm from under her and in a few seconds nothing--not a +shred of clothing--separated us. + +"I love you, Gilberte," I moaned again and again. + +But, even at that time, while I held a woman in my arms for the first +time in almost two years, I knew I was lying. But, somehow, that seemed +the only proper thing to say. + +The greater portion of the A.E.F. sailed for home on the Leviathan and +other ships late in March of 1919; but I was still in no condition to +make such a long trip. I'd sit in my wheel-chair, staring off into +space, and think about Anita--how she was, what she was doing, and +wondering why she didn't answer my letters. + +It was my custom to write her each week. Gilberte provided me with +paper and pen and ink; and later she would take the letters to post +when she went off duty. I remember the first time I handed her a +finished letter she glanced curiously at the name and the address. + +"Your mothair?" she asked in her broken English. + +"No," I replied, not realizing I was being cruel, "my wife." And not +satisfied with that, I pulled out the picture of Anita I always carried +in my breast pocket. "How do you like her, Gilberte? Isn't she lovely?" + +She took the picture from my hand and studied it intently. There was a +look in her eyes like some hurt animal and instantly I was ashamed of +myself. Knowing how the girl felt about me, I should have known better. + +"Vairy nize," she murmured and returned it. I saw a tell-tale sparkle +under her lowered lids. + +Now please don't think for a minute that I am manufacturing this story +out of whole cloth. I can find no explanation for her misguided +affections. I certainly did nothing to inspire them. The only +observation I might truthfully make is that love is mighty strange +and ofttimes somewhat silly. But to prove that Mademoiselle Monet was +a real person and not a figment of a distorted imagination, you have +only to look up the transcript of my trial in Tompkins County. One of +the prosecution's major exhibits was a letter in the French language, +addressed to me and signed by her. I never found out what the letter +contained until I heard it translated in open court. Yes, it was a love +letter. I ought to know, because it helped to convict me. + +Gilberte showed her love for me in a way to which I could not possibly +object. She did not try to kiss me, caress me or hug me; and pray do +not imagine nightly assignations after the other patients in the ward +were asleep; she was just over-kind and ever willing to go out of her +way to please me. When she spoke of her love at all, it was quietly and +in her own language, which I could not understand. Of course, there was +no mistaking the meaning of her words. Behind them whispered something +else--an international esperanto which no one could fail to have +recognized. + +And if, while she administered my sponge-baths, she lingered a little +longer than was strictly necessary, what was so wrong in that? She +liked to fuss over me like some mother with a child. In the garden +on some of the nights when we were alone, she'd lean her head on my +shoulder or carry one of my hands to her breast. It was done so sweetly +and so lacking in the frenzied sex quality that endowed many of the +other women nurses in the hospital, that I was deeply moved. I daresay +had I not already lost my heart to Anita ... but that's the way it was. + +Have I made myself clear? Except for that night during the early +spring, there was nothing between us. And it was not Gilberte's fault +that there happened even that. If anyone was the aggressor--it was I. +Do not, please, get the impression that she egged me on. Her love was +on a higher plane and sex was not paramount. I still have the feeling +that I soiled something, strode ruthlessly across a priceless tapestry +with muddy shoes. + +Now, I often regret that I didn't find out more about Nurse Monet; but +at the time, you can understand, my mind was flooded with thoughts of +my wife and her picture blotted out everything else or threw them out +of perspective. As it was, I merely tolerated Gilberte. She was merely +an audience attending a nightly eulogy of Anita. Knowing where I stand +now, I am sorry that I paid her so little attention. I must have been +exceedingly cruel; especially do I regret taking her. If, by some +chance, she ever comes across this book, I hope that she will believe +me when I say that I will always hold her memory very dear. I get a +little comfort by telling myself that, although she was a few years +older than myself, she was still a young woman and I, probably, was +merely a fleeting fancy. + +But to continue, it was not for several months that I found out +Gilberte was not mailing my letters to Anita. This made me very angry +because, you remember, my company had been recorded as wiped out and +Anita had no way of knowing that I was still alive. I found out one +afternoon when Gilberte was shifting her quarters. The other nurses +were lending her a hand with the heavier paraphernalia. I would have +liked to have helped her myself, because I was very fond of Gilberte, +but I was permitted only to sit in my wheel-chair out in the corridor +and watch the proceedings. + +The lid of her trunk was open as they staggered out into the hall with +it. The letters were in the tray--all of them--tied neatly into a +packet. At first I only stared at them in astonishment. There could be +no mistaking my peculiar style of penmanship. And as the trunk passed +my chair, I got a chance to inspect them at closer range. None of them +had been opened. + +I am thankful that I had both the control and the good taste to +wait until the moving was over and the other nurses had gone before +confronting Gilberte with my discovery. At first she denied it +vigorously; but when I rolled myself into her new room and took the +packet from the trunk to wave it in front of her nose, she began to +cry. + +"Why did you do it?" I demanded furiously. "Answer me, you little +sneak!" + +I am sure she didn't understand what I was saying and this made me +angrier than ever. My temper completely got the better of me and I did +something I had never dreamed of doing to a woman before: I struck her +across the mouth with the back of my hand. + +Poor woman, if only I could erase the mark of that blow! If only there +was something, some sort of antidote for the deeds we do in this world +without thinking! What she had done she had only done because she loved +me. Probably I would have done the same, had I been in her position. +But it was several hours before I cooled off and realized this. + +That very night I wrote to Anita again. This time I posted the letter +myself. The staff raised a frightful rumpus when they discovered I had +wheeled myself all the way into the village to the postmaster, and, I +must admit, not without just cause. I returned to the hospital totally +spent and for the following two weeks I had to be confined to my bed. +Throughout this brief relapse, Nurse Monet continued to care for me. +I don't think that she bore me any grudge for my having struck her. +Nevertheless, I found out later that she had put in an application for +a change of ward and been refused. + +Before I was finally discharged from the hospital I wrote some ten +or twelve letters to Anita and received two in reply. I am still in +possession of them. The paper on which they are written is yellowed +with the years and the ink has faded until the writing is almost +illegible. Intrinsically they are worth nothing; however, I think that +if I copy them here, they might explain themselves and also how I +felt when I first read them. In this way I might possibly be able to +transfer to you the intangible mental unrest I suffered because of them. + +The first was a short note, written in a great hurry on a piece of +Ithaca Hotel stationery. It ran: + + June 3, 1919 + + Dear Peter, + + I am so glad to hear that you are alive and getting along nicely. + Of course, I am sorry to hear that you've been wounded but I think + you are very lucky to have gotten away so easily, don't you? You + know that the newspapers listed you in the casualties and getting + a word from you was like receiving a communication from a ghost. + As a matter of fact, I have been wearing mourning clothes for over + two months. And oh, Peter, I've been so dreadfully lonesome here in + Ithaca since the Armistice. I haven't been outside this house in + almost three weeks ... except to do my shopping. Please write to me + and let me know your plans. By all means do not leave the hospital + until you have been pronounced completely well. If it is advisable + that you remain another month or two, don't disregard the doctors. + I can wait. And don't, for heaven's sake, try anything juvenile + like surprising me. + + Your wife, + + Anita. + +There were two things that immediately struck me as being strange about +the letter. The first was the curious absence of the word "love." She +had not even said, "Your _loving_ wife." The second was that while +the stationery bore the insignia of the familiar Ithaca Hotel, the +envelope was stamped with the incongruous postmark of New York City. +If she had not been out of the house, how then could this letter have +been mailed more than two hundred and fifty miles away? This worried me +considerably. + +Her next and last letter I received just as I was preparing to leave +the hospital, bound for Paris. I thrust it into my pocket unopened, +deciding to read it after I had said my goodbyes. I had made +arrangements with the driver of a produce lorry to take me in with him +on one of his semi-weekly trips to the capital and he was parked before +the main gate, impatiently punching the rubber bulb of his horn. + +Hurriedly, I bade farewell to everyone--doctors, nurses, orderlies--but +Gilberte I could not find. At the risk of having the lorry proceed +without me, I raced through the entire hospital, thrusting my neck into +every room much to the annoyance of staff and patients. Just as I was +about to give up hope, I spotted her sitting alone at the far end of +the garden. I could see by her posture that there was something wrong. +Her shoulders sagged disconsolately. + +"Gilberte!" I called as I hurried over to her. "I'm leaving now. Didn't +you know? I've been searching all over for you. I couldn't bear the +thought of leaving without saying goodbye." + +"Goodbye," she said apathetically. + +I looked at her in astonishment. We had long since made up after our +quarrel about the letters and this passive attitude on her part puzzled +me. I raised her chin with one finger but she steadfastly refused to +meet my eyes. + +"What's wrong, Gilberte?" I asked. "Aren't you sorry to see me go? +We've been such good friends and all that. I'm going to miss you, you +know." + +"That is nize," she replied dully. + +It was then that I noticed her hands. They were clenched tightly in her +lap. The knuckles were white and the skin covering them was stretched +taut, almost to the point of being transparent. Her eyes she kept fixed +on the ground. Though her cheeks were pale and her lips quivered at +the corners, I knew that she had not been crying. I was glad of that, +at least. + +I moved to take her in my arms but she turned her head away. "Please," +she whispered, "don't kiss me." There was a harsh, but barely audible, +agony in her voice which brought a lump into my throat. At that moment +I knew the full tragedy of war. War injects the virus of sadness +into the veins of all and the innocent suffer along with the guilty. +Sometimes I feel that the dead are the fortunate for they, at least, no +longer have to look upon the wreckage. + +The lorry driver began to honk away with renewed vigor. I knew that if +I kept him any longer he was sure to drive off without me. Under my +breath I cursed the restless fellow and, stooping quickly, I kissed +Gilberte's forehead and ran to the road without a backward glance. + +Needless to say, I felt very sad. Instinctively, I was aware that I +would never see Nurse Monet again. My heart was cold with misgivings, +as though some strange, dark traveller had passed close by and I +had felt the swish of his cloak. Once beside my heavily-moustached +companion, I turned for a last glimpse of her but the thick foliage +above the low garden wall cut off the view. + +As the lorry rattled and banged along the rural roads, quaking in +every inch of its ancient frame, I tore open Anita's letter. This, +too, was short. The handwriting was a scrawl, almost childish in its +carelessness. + + July 22, 1919 + + Dear Peter, + + Received your letters and am happy to note that you have recovered + from your illness. I have some great news for you which ought to + cheer you up. The Great Eastern Drug Company is interested in + buying the store! They are offering an incredible sum. You know + that that is the chain with drugstores in almost every city and + town east of the Mississippi. We can consider ourselves fortunate + that they are interested in our place rather than Cavender's. + Probably, after they take over, they'll force him out of business. + Peter, maybe if we sell the store we can live in New York. What + do you think of that? You can open a place there, you know. We can + talk about it some more when I see you. Cable me what boat you'll + be on and I'll meet you at the dock. + + Anita. + +That's all there was. I turned the letter over and over in my hands, +searching for something that was not there.... + +Again no word of love. + + + + + PART TWO + + THE GROWTH + + +I believe that I have succeeded in giving you a rough résumé of the +events which preceded my homecoming from France. I have not gone into +any great detail; firstly, because it might in some way confuse the +main issue; and secondly, because many of the less important incidents +have blurred in my mind with the passing of the years. + +I have neither invented anything nor colored the events to favor +myself. I have not tried to find any excuse for the things I did or the +emotions I experienced. You will admit that the portrait I have painted +of myself in no way depicts a hero or a martyr. But I do pray that you +will credit my outspoken truthfulness--which I am essaying at any +cost--by learning the whole story before you turn thumbs down. + +I must confess that there was no malicious plot brewed to ruin me +and mark me a murderer; and I do not consider myself a victim of +circumstance. My trial on an indictment of First Degree Murder was the +essence of fair play; the jury that convicted me was composed of very +honest, unprejudiced citizens who, after hearing the preponderance of +unfavorable testimony in the case, voted the only plausible verdict. I +daresay had I myself been a member of that jury and somebody else been +on trial, I would have been quite in accord with that decision. + +Really, there is only one person to be blamed: myself. Of course when +you have learned of Anita's actions, you may form the opinion that she +did a frightful thing--and you will be quite right. However, if I had +not been such a blind idiot, the whole thing might never have happened. +And although I blame her for permitting me to marry her, I blame myself +more. Certainly, any half-witted child could have detected something +mighty peculiar about my marriage from the very first; and there is +nothing quite as inexcusable as utter stupidity. + +The entire voyage--from the time the ship left Havre until we sighted +the Statue of Liberty--I spent in trying to disperse the growing doubts +and fears which assailed me. If the war had done much to injure me--and +it undoubtedly had--it also did something to help. By virtue of my long +absence from her side, I was able to view Anita more objectively. I was +able to pick out motives for this and that which I had never noticed +before. The clearer insight, unfortunately, was not very pleasant +because not only could I see Anita less obscurely, I also took frank +stock of myself. What could she possibly have seen in me? + +It may be that I have an inferiority complex; a neurologist who visited +the prison during my term told me that I have. The fact that I always +have felt self-conscious in a new hat or overcoat seems to bear him +out in this contention. But whether it is true or not, when I married +Anita the successful outcome of my suit at once inflated my ego and I +began to feel that I was _somebody_. How could I have felt subservient +to anyone when I had the most sought-after woman in town as my wife? +It was not until the war took some of the wind out of my sails and I +had read and re-read several of her _friendly_ letters that I began to +seriously wonder if she really did love me. If she did, I reasoned, it +was a very cool sort of love and not at all like the fierce passions of +the French. + +Much to my dismay, she substantiated this dark thought of mine by +the way she greeted me at the dock. Surrounding us on all sides were +lovers, families and close friends being reunited, openly kissing and +embracing one another. But when I spotted Anita--looking perfectly +beautiful--and hugged and kissed her, she turned her face away to +preclude the possibility of any repetition. Not only that, she murmured +in a slightly irritated tone of voice: "Oh, please. Must you do that +here?" + +I laughed, though not very convincingly. "Darling, I don't care if the +whole world knows I love you! I want them to know!" + +I kissed her again, over and above her protests and she said, "Well, +that's very sweet of you and all that, Peter. But must you...?" + +At that moment a Customs officer interrupted the scene and I was +grateful. Her marked indifference to my happiness at seeing her hurt me +no end and, had we been alone, I think a scrap would have started. As +it was, an hour later in a taxicab my repressed anger cooled and I slid +an arm about her shoulders. She was far too exquisite to fight with +and since she did not draw away from me or try to remove my arm, any +suspicions I might have had--that she no longer cared for me--fled. + +We checked in at the Martinique Hotel, having decided to stay in the +city overnight before taking the train for Ithaca. The desk clerk, +a war veteran himself, kept me in conversation--much to Anita's +disgust--while I registered. Although I was very tired from the ordeal +of the dock formalities, she insisted that I immediately go out and +purchase some civilian clothes. + +"That uniform will be the death of me," she complained. "While you've +got it on, anyone, even a street-cleaner, feels he's your equal. +Besides, you're not an officer." + +At this, I demurred. "I want to bathe and take a nap for a few hours +first, darling. It's much too hot to shop in this sun. The stores stay +open until seven and I can buy them then. Right after I've put on the +new duds, we can eat dinner." + +Anita sighed wearily, as though I was some idiot whom she was eternally +fated to humor. "You're hopeless but I suppose there is nothing that +can be done about it. All right. Have your nap. But be sure you wake up +and get your shopping done in time for an early dinner. I want to go to +the theatre tonight." + +I stared at her stupidly. + +After having been separated from her husband for almost two years, she +wanted to spend the first night of the reunion in a theatre! + + * * * * * + +Because I was unable to finish my medical course due to the sudden +death of my mother, I am not a doctor; neither am I a psychoanalyst or +a physiologist; but I am of the opinion that the sexual appetite of a +person is the thermometer by which the degree of his or her love can +be measured. By this I do not mean to infer that love is mere animal +lust; certainly not. I do believe, though, that if a person is in love, +sex follows naturally and continues to fire both parties only just so +long as mutual adoration remains. + +All this, of course, is but a prelude to my telling you that Anita had +to be coaxed. + +I write of this in embarrassment for I cannot conquer the feeling that +I am revealing secrets rightfully belonging not to me alone, but to a +sacred partnership. As a matter of fact, this entire tale is difficult +to tell since the greater part of it concerns a woman now dead and +unable to admit or deny its implications. + +This self-consciousness comes not from reviewing events which cannot +be confirmed by concrete evidence, but because I realize that I am, in +part, admitting the charges against me as set forth in the indictment. +My attorney has pleaded with me to discontinue the writing of this +manuscript, warning me that should it find its way into unfriendly +hands it might be used against me. Despite everything he says, I have +decided to ignore this potential danger. It is far more important to me +that I be understood. Blame this on the newspapers which labelled me an +insane killer and deliberately misquoted and misconstrued everything I +said to reporters. + +Perhaps my digressions confuse; if they do it is unintentional. +Remember that I am only a druggist, temporarily borrowing the pen. +If this work is ever completed, I am sure that the desire to write +anything else will never infect me. As it is, I don't feel at all at +home writing and, were it not for the fact that I wish to offer my side +of the story, I would remain silent. + +I have said that Anita had to be coaxed; and while some of you will +disdainfully make the observation that I am hardly a person to arouse +in any woman the warm efflux of genuine passion, at least I can lay +claim that if this is so, I have always been the same. If Anita had +been in love with me once--and she must have been to have married +me--there was no plausible reason why she should suddenly change. + +Be this as it may, when we returned to the hotel from the theatre that +night, she manifested an obvious disinclination to retire to our room. +She hung back in the lobby. + +"Let's not go up yet," she begged. "I don't want to go to bed. We're in +New York so seldom, you know." + +"But we have a very long train ride tomorrow, Anita. We'll be all worn +out...." + +"Let's not, Peter. We can doze on the train." + +I looked at my watch. "But Anita darling! Don't you realize it's almost +one o'clock! Where would you want to go at this hour of the morning?" + +She hesitated and bit her lower lip. "You had a nap this afternoon so +you shouldn't be tired. We might," she suggested after a brief moment +of thought, "try one of those funny little cabarets below Fourteenth." + +Even with the nap I was feeling rather spent and I firmly objected to +this whim, trying to laugh her out of the notion. Moreover, having been +deprived of my wife for so long a time, I had eagerly anticipated the +moment when I might once more have her to myself. I do not think that +it was unreasonable of me to suppose that she shared this feeling. If +she loved me, as I was sure she did, she, too was thirsting for me. + +"But I _do_ want to see the Village, Peter!" + +"You will," I promised. "We'll come down here soon again, you and I. +And when we do," I added with forced gaiety, "we'll do New York up +brown." I took her elbow and gently urged her away from the revolving +door. "But not tonight, dear." + +"Is that a promise?" she asked skeptically. + +"Cross my heart!" + +Anita seemed to come along reluctantly and she was pouting as we +entered the elevator and shot up to our floor. I put the key into the +lock and kicked the door open with a bang. Happy that we were at last +by ourselves for the remainder of the night, I became jubilant as a +schoolboy. I lifted her slim body, kicking, in my arms and staggered +with her over the threshold. Still weak from my long convalescence in +France, I am afraid that I was breathing heavily as I deposited her on +the double bed. She sprang to her feet as though rebounding from the +bed-springs. + +"Peter!" she protested testily. "What under the sun has gotten into +you? You know better than to try that! You're certainly in no condition +to...." + +But I stopped the rapid flow of her words by covering her mouth with +kisses. With my mouth pressed hard against hers, I forced her back onto +the bed. Our feet in dusty shoes soiled the pillows. So tightly were we +together that I could feel her pelvis bones against me and her teeth +behind her closed mouth and her full, hard breasts.... With one hand I +felt for the snaps at the side of her dress. + +"I love you, Anita," I groaned. + +"You're hurting me," she answered. + +Some time later, as we lay on our backs and stared up at the dim +expanse of the ceiling, Anita touched my arm. "Peter dear," she +whispered softly. + +I thrilled at the affection in her tone. It at once brought to me a +sense of contentment which complemented the delightful tranquil state +that was now my body's. "Yes, sweetheart? What is it? Can I get you +anything?" + +Her voice came back to me, wistfully out of the shadows. "Can we live +in New York after the store is sold? You know how much I love it here +and ... well, Ithaca has never seemed like home to me." + +I sat up in bed with a start. Anita was taking it for granted that +I intended to sell out! Such, you may be sure, was not my plan. The +thought of disposing of the thing I had dreamed about and worked for +since its humble beginning four years before had not once merited my +consideration. My store was now the largest of its kind in Ithaca and, +since receiving Anita's letter informing me of Great Eastern's offer, I +had been playing with the idea of opening a branch. Maybe I, too, would +someday operate a chain of drugstores! + +Something cautioned me, however, and I held my tongue. Everything was +peaceful now; why spoil it? "We'll talk about it tomorrow," I said and +pounding my pillow with a fist, I dropped back and closed my eyes. + +"You're a darling, Peter," Anita went on and I felt cool fingers pass +over my face in a soothing caress. "I just know you will. We can have +a much better time here. Did you know that most of your friends have +moved away since you left? Mrs. Burtleson and the Crespis and Walt +Mandeville have all gone. Joe Crespi has a job selling Packards down +here. Doing very well, too, I understand. And Myra Parsons got married +to a Brooklyn man. He manages a factory or something. And she has a +baby almost a year old, too. What do you think of that! Somehow I never +thought of _her_ becoming a mother! Always liked to gad about when I +knew her. And oh, yes. Harvey Bond--you remember him, don't you? Tall, +funny-looking fellow with glasses and red hair? Sure you do. He used to +live right next door to the Carpenter place on the Heights...." + +She stopped short. I could almost hear her teeth snap shut. I am +positive that she had not meant to mention that name. But though I +opened my eyes in the darkness, I made sure not to move a muscle. I was +certain that if I showed any sign that I had noticed the slip, she +would be embarrassed or uncomfortable. + +In a second, to cover up, she went on with a show of defiance. "Yes, +and by the way, I hear that Leo Carpenter is down here somewhere. +Somebody--I think it was Tom Murphy--said that he plans to go to Vienna +soon to study. Lucky dog! His father left him a mint of money. He's +about the only thing I've got against New York and he won't be here +long, thank God." She paused for a few minutes until I thought that she +had gone to sleep. Just as I was congratulating myself that such was +the case, she recommenced the one-sided debate. "So you see. Peter, +about the only people left in Ithaca whom we know at all well are Mrs. +Michaelson and that awful Turnbull person. And you couldn't call them +friends very well, now could you?" + +I did not answer her. I pretended that I had fallen asleep. + + * * * * * + +The next morning, much to Anita's disappointment, we boarded a train +for Ithaca. I was in a state of high spirits; for returning to the +town of my birth--which many times during the war I had never expected +to see again--was a prospect both pleasant and exciting. I am one +of those, I guess, whom the Cornell students slurringly refer to as +"native sons." I have rarely had the desire to go to the big city +with its stale smells, its filthy streets and its unbearable noises; +preferring to remain peaceful and perhaps slightly bored in the country +areas. Anita, on the other hand, was moulded from different clay. But +she didn't reveal her restless spirit until after we had been married. + +To this very day, I don't know whether it was Ithaca or my own poor +company that fired her with the wish to live in New York ... or whether +it was the desire to be near Leo Carpenter. The whole thing is as vague +now as it was then. At times I am sure that her mind never toyed with +thoughts of infidelity; and, whatever the world may think, I still +accept Anita's statement that she was never untrue to me while I was +away at war at its face value. + +But I am forgetting myself and speaking of her as though she were +still alive and not lying so stiff in her coffin. + +The train had scarcely pulled out of the station when Anita introduced +the subject I had this far managed to evade. I tried my utmost to be +indefinite, reminding her that I had not as yet interviewed the agent +for The Great Eastern and that I could not possibly decide one way or +the other until a thorough examination of the terms they offered was +made. + +"Unless it is something extraordinary," I said, "I think it might be +wise to hold on to the place. The store has been newly equipped, you +know. Besides, the lease I hold is very favorable and still has quite a +long time to run. We don't need money badly enough to throw away a good +thing, do we? The Great Eastern wouldn't be interested in the place if +they didn't know it was a live investment." + +"Oh, you'll like the offer they're making, all right," predicted Anita +confidently. "Young Murphy couldn't believe his ears when the man +approached him and named a tentative sum. How long do you think it will +take before we can move, Peter? I've already spoken to the Carpenter +Realty Company about putting the house on the market. They don't +believe we'll have much trouble getting rid of it." + +I winced but said nothing. Fearful lest my face reveal disapproval of +these high-handed measures, I turned and looked out of the window at +the racing scenery. We were somewhere in Pennsylvania. The train was +whipping around sharp bends and the low mountains on either side of +us were studies in contrasting shades of green. Now and then we would +plunge into short tunnels and when we would emerge, the sunlight was +blinding. I had a headache. + +"Well?" persisted Anita. + +"Well what?" I asked without taking my eyes from the window. I have +never been much of an actor--my eyes give me away--and pretending not +to be aware of the subject being discussed would never get by if I +faced her. + +"Are we going to live in New York or not? Really, Peter, you're not +paying much attention. Have I been talking to myself this last half +hour?" + +"Eh? ... er, no, of course not, dear. Live in New York? Well ... if we +sell out, we'll talk about it. There's no great hurry, is there? After +all, I'm not even home yet!" + +She said no more about it after that. A colored nurse came to occupy +the seat opposite us leading one little girl of about five or six and +carrying a baby in her arms. Both Anita and myself amused ourselves +by playing with the tot until I whispered to Anita: "She's so cute! I +wouldn't mind having one like her myself." + +Anita dropped the little girl's hand as though it was red-hot and with +a wave sent her back to her nurse-girl. + +"Wouldn't you?" I stammered. + +She looked at me for a moment before replying. There was something cold +and piercing in her stare that I didn't like. I couldn't imagine what I +had said so wrong. + +"No," she said flatly, "I wouldn't." + +We had no sooner reached the front gate of our house when I stopped in +astonishment. The way the little place looked--run down, the garden +choked with weeds, the lawn grown up--was enough to bring tears of +disappointment to my eyes. The gate, usually so trim and bright, was +covered with rust and hanging crazily on a single broken hinge. I +looked toward Anita speechlessly. + +"Oh, I know things look pretty bad," she admitted with a shrug in +answer to my wordless question. "But you must remember that I was all +alone here. And don't forget that you haven't been here in two years. +Things change." + +"They certainly do," I remarked with ill-disguised meaning and she +flashed me a sharp look as we picked our way through the shabby yard to +the front door. Here, too, I found evidence that struck me as strange. +Before the door, rolled up but with the dates visible, were four copies +of _The Journal-News_. None of them had been opened. + +Before I could comment upon them, Anita sighed, "Oh, dear. I've been +so busy these last few days that I haven't even had time to read the +paper! And you, complaining about the grounds!" + +I let this pass and did not question her further although I was +totally innocent of what it was that occupied all of her time. Before +the war she had always been faced with the problem of how to while away +her leisure hours. + + * * * * * + +A few days spent in examining the books of my store and conferring +with the man from The Great Eastern definitely decided me that I would +be unwise to sell. Business was booming with prices right. The Ithaca +Drug Company was doing so well that I offered Tom Murphy the permanent +job of my assistant which he joyfully accepted. The store swarmed with +customers from the time we opened each morning until we reluctantly +closed the doors. I began to deliberate seriously the advisability of +inaugurating an all-night policy. + +As yet I had not informed Anita of my decision to refuse Great +Eastern's offer. I knew that she would be very disappointed and I +wished to delay as long as possible the verdict which she would +undoubtedly consider foolish and quite inconsiderate of her feelings in +the matter. + +After the passage of a week, however, I felt that I could not decently +withhold the news longer. I was not afraid of Anita in any sense of +the word, mind you, but I dreaded to see her unhappy. If only I had +suspected that the store was the match which would eventually cause +the terrible conflagration of our marriage, you may be sure that I +would have disposed of it at any cost! You see, before I married, my +life belonged exclusively to that store; afterwards it became entirely +Anita's. + +Just as I was about to put on my hat and go home to tell her, Doc +Turnbull entered the place and we got to talking. + +"You're doing a wise thing, boy. Those city fellers are a shrewd +bunch and no mistake. They'd skin the eye-teeth out of their own +grandmothers. Hold on to this joint if it's the last thing you do. At +the rate you're going now, Ray Cavender can't last much longer across +the street and this section will all be yours." + +"Yes," I said, "but Doc, suppose they buy out Cavender and try to break +me by under-selling? You know I can't buck a rich company like that." + +Doc spit. "It would take a hell of a lot of under-selling to make the +townspeople desert you in favor of them, son. The Great Eastern knows +that. If they can't work out a fair deal, they won't try to push their +way in. Don't worry." + +We chatted a while longer until I happened to notice the clock above +the soda fountain. "Good heavens! I've got to run now, Doc. Say, why +don't you drop around to the house tonight? Weather looks nice and +clear so there won't be many mosquitoes. We'll sit down by the lake and +chew the fat." + +Doc sighed profoundly. "You know, I miss that garden of yours, son. +Haven't set foot in it for over two years, would you believe it? But +I won't be able to make it tonight, I reckon. Too many patients are +yelling for pills." + +I laughed. "Now don't try to tell me that you deserted your favorite +spot just because I was away! Didn't you drop in on Anita?" + +Turnbull picked up his instrument case. "When? You know the only time +I can get around to paying social calls is on Friday or Saturday. Hell. +And you know your missus ain't shown hide nor hair around town during +weekends since you left for the other side." He grunted and mopped his +damp face with a pocket handkerchief. "I suppose because she bought one +of them week-end special commutation tickets on the railroad she just +felt she _had_ to use it up. Every Friday afternoon, regular as the +clock, she'd be on the train." + +Together we left the store. I think the old man must have seen +something in my face because, as we separated, he asked: "What's eating +you, son? Anything the matter? You're not looking so chipper tonight." + +"Oh, nothing, Doc, I guess," I hurriedly reassured him. "I suppose this +business about the store has got me going. Anita wants me to sell out." + +Doc shook his head. "Now don't you listen to her, Pete. Mind what I +say. You've got a nice living here. Lots of fellers would like to be in +your shoes. Me, for one." + +"'Night, Doc." + +"'Night, Pete." + +The information that Anita had spent every week-end away from home +during my absence, occupied my mind as I walked home that evening, +completely driving the business of the store from my thoughts. It was +not until I was seated at the dinner table that I remembered what I +would be forced to tell her. I was pondering the problem or what was +the easiest way to break the news when--as on previous nights--Anita +herself brought up the subject of the proposed transaction. + +"Well, Peter? Did you get the papers?" + +To forestall her, I had invented the story that they were drawing up +contracts for my approval or rejection. In the meantime, I was supposed +to be making a thorough investigation of the store's books, the value +of the stock on hand, and of business conditions in general. + +I forced myself to be direct. "Anita," I said, looking her squarely in +the eyes, "I'm not going to sell out." + +As I said this, she was pouring the iced tea. Pitcher in hand, she +leaned forward with a frown darkening her face. "You're what! You're +not going to sell?" + +"No. I think I'll hold on to the place." + +Her breast heaved as though she had suddenly become short of breath and +her lips tightened into that thin, white line I had come to dread. "But +I want you to sell," she said evenly. I could feel the wealth of fury +repressed in those six simple words. + +"I'm sorry, Anita," I replied quietly, trying not to look ashamed of +myself. "I've already turned the offer down." Then her eyes began to +blaze and I half-rose from the table. "Now look here. There's no call +for you to take on. That store is all we've got and the best thing we +can do is to keep it." + +I will never forget her lip curling into a sneer as she brought the tea +pitcher down onto the table with such force that a great crack appeared +in its heavy pottery from base to spout. "So that's how much you love +me, is it?" she cried. "You know I hate it here! Do you expect me to +slave for you in this dirty little hovel all my life? Well, I won't! I +won't, I tell you!" + +I can't remember my exact words but I made the rather caustic remark +that the house had always been presentable until she commenced taking +weekly trips to New York in my absence. As soon as I uttered this, I +was sorry for it. The sneer faded from her lips, leaving her quite pale +and defeated looking. Both of us remained silent for what seemed to be +a long time. + +At length, seeing that she made no retort in defense of herself, I +reseated myself and poured out the tea. Although I did not look up +at her, I could feel her heavy breath on my forehead. "I'm keeping +the store, Anita," I reiterated as though to put an end to the whole +dispute. + +Anita silently left the room and I had to finish my dinner alone. + + * * * * * + +I imagine a good many husbands would have insisted on knowing more +about the regular (or irregular?) week-end excursions of their wives; +and perhaps if I had done so I would not have had to spend so many +years in prison; but I was so confident that the trips were merely in +the category of mischievous outings, spent mainly in theatres that I +did not press the subject. Anyway, I did not want to further irritate +Anita. The turning down of the offer had done quite enough harm. + +For three days following the scene described, she would not speak to +me. The house became as gloomy and silent as a tomb. On the fourth day +she contracted a severe toothache. Her jaw was actually swollen and it +looked as if it might be terribly painful. Anita swathed her face in +napkins and at frequent intervals grudgingly employed the preparation +(chloroform, oil of cloves and creosote in equal parts) I had brought +her from the store. Although it was impossible for her to eat anything, +she flatly refused either to visit the dentist or to allow me to summon +one. + +"You never asked me why I went to New York almost every week-end," +she announced acidly out of the good side of her mouth, "so I never +mentioned my teeth. They've been giving me trouble for some time. But +of course you wouldn't be interested in that!" + +Her bitter sarcasm made me feel guilty and in the wrong. I made +haste to assure her that such was not the case and that indeed I was +interested in her health. My obviously earnest sympathy seemed to +placate her somewhat. + +"I've been going down there to visit a dentist," she went on, after a +sullen moment of silence. "The old fool we have in town here doesn't +know a tooth from a toe! If I'd let him, he'd yank them all! But this +man in the city is simply wonderful. I can't recall who it was that +recommended him to me, but he never hurts me with the drill." + +This voluntary explanation of her trips tore the veil of mystery which +had surrounded them and made me feel a suspicious idiot. I must confess +that for a time I had been harboring frightful thoughts: dreams of +Anita in alien arms. Now, with her story convincingly illustrated by +a badly swollen jaw, I could only curse myself inwardly for having so +filthy a mind. I was totally unworthy, I silently told myself, to be +the recipient of such a fine woman's love. + +All that night she tossed and turned in agony. Several times I was at +the point of dressing and going down to the store for a powder which +might induce her to sleep; but by the time I had made up my mind to do +this, she would fall into a light doze and I was afraid to awaken her. + +In the morning, at her suggestion, I put her aboard the eastbound train +for New York. She promised that she would return the same evening in +time to get me some dinner. I knew that that would not leave her much +time in the city but I didn't like the idea of her travelling at night +or, worse yet, spending the night in some city hotel. + +My day at the store was singularly eventful. Usually the hours would +pass filling prescriptions, interviewing pharmaceutical salesmen, or +chatting with the steady customers. But on that day the agent for The +Great Eastern reappeared upon the scene, hot and irritable and offering +fully a thousand dollars more than he had previously been authorized +to give. I took luncheon with him at the Ithaca Hotel and informed +him that I would consider his offer only upon the express agreement +that I would be given the management of the store. This, he assured me +in no uncertain terms, was a ridiculous demand. We parted, both of us +decidedly in bad temper. In my ears rang his farewell words: "Thatcher, +you are _the_ most pig-headed son of a bitch I've ever met!" + +This anger of mine was very unfortunate as I later found out. It made +me three enemies: Mrs. Wainscott and the parents of that incorrigible +little brat, Jackie Mackintosh. The former, when she sidled nervously +up to the counter and whispered a confidential something in my ear, +I brusquely answered: "What? For heaven's sake, madam! Can't you ask +for anything in a normal tone of voice? What are you afraid of? If you +want a box of suppositories, ask for a box of suppositories!" Of course +Mrs. Wainscott grew red in the face and abruptly left the store with +the muffled guffaws of the loungers at the soda fountain burning in her +ears. I did not see her again until she testified against me at the +trial. + +Not five minutes later, I administered a hearty spanking to +Jackie, whom I caught red-handed with both his pockets filled with +chocolate-covered cherries. He must have run home immediately to his +mother and complained of this treatment for later in the afternoon she +called upon me at the store, accompanied by her equally irate husband. +All of my patient explanations that Jackie's behaviour was not without +precedent made no impression and, at last, I flew into a rage and +ordered the trio from the store. As they departed, Mr. Mackintosh flung +back over his shoulder, "You'll pay for this, Thatcher. Mark my words!" + +But, angry as I was, I was more incensed at my own bad conduct. Never +before had I insulted customers with such abandon. I had always been +careful, despite any emotional upheavals among my clientele, to +maintain an imperturbed exterior. Sadly, on the day in question, I +bridged this self-imposed gap with a vehemence born of my knowledge +that neither Mrs. Wainscott nor the Mackintosh clan were valued +patrons. Little did I suspect at the time that those petty squabbles +would help to dig the grave I was soon to inhabit for many, many years. + +As a precaution, just before I started for home on that +never-to-be-forgotten night of August 20, 1919, I asked Tom Murphy to +make up an effective sleeping draught and bring it around to my house +on his way home. I realized that Anita might suffer further pain in +spite of, and with all due respect to, her city dentist. In any event, +I reasoned, it would do no harm to have something of the kind in the +house. Murphy agreed to deliver the stuff not later than nine o'clock. + + * * * * * + +When I sat down at the dinner table that night, Anita impatiently waved +aside my solicitous inquiries regarding her teeth and thrust a letter +into my hands: + +"This came for you today. I can see it's from some woman. You'd better +read it." + +From her tone of voice and the look in her eye, I gathered that Anita +was deriving some huge satisfaction from the letter. She was gloating +and nowhere, strangely, was I able to detect a sign of jealousy. +Ordinarily, I would say that these signs were the usual masochistic +antics of the wife who has caught her husband in some nefarious +practice; but in Anita I determined a note of triumph--like the +exclamation of a soldier who has just impaled the enemy on his bayonet. + +I realized immediately from the handwriting and the postmark that the +letter was from Gilberte. I ripped open the envelope with a show of +innocence. It wasn't a very long letter but I could not have read it +then or at any other time. It was in French. + +I will not ask you to believe me in this; the jury didn't. After nearly +two years in France, sojourning for the most part with people who spoke +no English, it doesn't sound plausible that I had not picked up enough +French to decipher Gilberte's simple message. Nevertheless, it is so. I +have never been good at learning languages and, except for a few choice +idioms of profanity garnered at the front, I am hopelessly incapable +of translating anything more than drugstore Latin. + +After a glance at it, I passed the letter across the table for Anita's +inspection. "What does it say?" she asked coldly. "Or is it too +personal for your wife to know?" + +"I don't know myself," I replied with a shrug. + +"Really!" + +"You can see for yourself. It's in French." + +She sniffed. "And you can't read it, eh?" + +"No." + +Anita turned the letter over and read the signature. "Gilberte. Who's +she?" + +"She was one of the nurses in the hospital. A nice old lady who was +kind to me," I lied for no other earthly reason than perhaps to divert +her attention from the letter. "I'll get someone to translate it for me +tomorrow. I think Mr. Ottavio, the Italian shoemaker, speaks a little +French. Or maybe one of the professors from up on the hill might come +into the store." + +And with that, I stuffed the letter into my pocket and promptly forgot +about it. There was nothing farther from my mind at that time than +Gilberte; and while I had come to miss her, other and more important +things kept cropping up before I had time to evoke any more than a few +pleasant memories. Like Doctor Carpenter, Nurse Monet was only a shadow +of the past, occasionally looming up to loiter near the more remote +fringe of the present. + +We continued to eat the meal in silence, Anita chewing cautiously +in one side of her mouth. As she brought in the dessert--a gelatin +pudding topped with whipped cream--I asked her what the dentist had +accomplished. As an answer, she reached into her apron pocket and +rolled two very large molars onto the table. The roots of the teeth +were still dark with traces of dried blood and the sight of them at +the dinner table was almost enough to make me ill. With difficulty, I +mastered my nausea and turned what I hoped were sympathetic eyes in her +direction. + +"Poor kid," I murmured and going over to her I took her in my arms. She +turned her back to me so that it was impossible to see her face, but +the gelatin in the dish she was holding trembled and almost bounced to +the floor. "Darling, I didn't know. It must've been awful." + +"Much you care!" she said, bursting into tears. I held her as close as +I could and straining myself, I managed to kiss the side of her mouth. + +"Now, now. You know I care!" + +"I ... I thought you ... loved me!" she whimpered. + +"But what an idea! Of course I love you! Have I ever said that I +didn't? Come now, Anita. What is it? Have I been nasty to you?" + +"You ... you don't care how I feel! You won't do the one thing in the +world I want you to do! You know I'm rotting here! You know everyone in +town hates me!" + +I tried to laugh her out of the idea although I suddenly realized how +few friends Anita really had. None of the other young married women +ever came to call on her. I had taken note of this once before and, +after much thought, had put it down as rank jealousy. Anita was far too +beautiful. But it was unnatural that she should not have at least one +friend among her own sex. + +"And I hate them, too!" she continued in that little, choking voice. +She had moved over to the table and, disregarding the dishes, some of +which were dangerously close to the edge, buried her face in her arms. +Her position reminded me of that night--July 2, 1917--when she had shed +alcoholic tears in almost the same spot. + +How long she continued to sob there and how long I stared blankly at +her quivering breasts and at the delicate tendrils of blonde hair that +curled at the nape of her neck, I do not know. For it was then that I +began to weaken a little in my resolution. As this was happening to +me, I became conscious of the fact that I was speaking, backing up my +gradually dying decision not to sell with forceful words of refusal. +Just exactly what I said and precisely what she replied to me, I am +unable to remember. It may be that a touch of my old shell-shock malady +came back and seized my memory for a little, twisting it out of focus. + +Because the next thing I can vividly recollect is Anita standing +on her two feet, pale and furious, with mother's discolored steel +carving-knife in her hand. On the floor around the legs of the table +were several chipped and broken dishes which her sudden leap must have +knocked down. + +"You're killing me!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. The shrill +quality of her voice sent a shuddering response through me. My heart +constricted, leaving me as cold as ice and dead certain that something +awful was about to happen. I could feel the hairs rise on me. "Don't +you know that you're killing me, you fool? Every day, every minute I +have to stay here! ... Oh, I can't stand it any longer!" + +Risking a nasty cut, I went toward her, hoping to get the knife away +from her; but she moved off a few paces as I approached. "Don't be +childish, Anita," I pleaded. "And stop that screaming. Do you want the +neighbors to hear?" + +It may seem silly that at a trying moment like that I should be +concerned about anyone other than the two of us; nevertheless, such +was the case. I have always secretly dreaded that my personal affairs +someday might be aired in public. This fear was born of a life spent +in a small town. I have seen too many people broken and unable +to hold their heads up after the malicious work of gossipers and +scandal-mongers. + +I continued to try to quiet her but she would not be hushed. "Why are +you doing this to me? You hate me, don't you? Oh, don't deny it! I know +you hate me! Well ... I hate you, too!" + +"Anita!" I gasped. + +"Yes, I do! I hate you! I can't stand the sight of you! You bore me, +see? You didn't know that, did you? Well, now you do!" + +The tears were drying on her face and in her eyes, leaving them rimmed +and reddened. The rouge on her cheeks stood out against her dead +white skin in round, uneven splotches. With her hair in disarray, she +looked almost mad and, I must confess, horribly ugly. Seeing her this +way after once having witnessed her beautiful, frightened me. It also +hastened me in my decision to do what she wished. + +I managed to get my hand on the hilt of the knife and I began to twist +it from her grasp. Struggling to retain it, Anita commenced to shout +again with still more rage. "Let me alone! Let me alone, do you hear? +I'll kill you if you take that away! Oh ... you're hurting me! God +damn you! I'll ... I'll ..." And here her words ran into one another, +becoming unintelligible expostulations of hatred. + +I suppose I did hurt her a bit; but it was absolutely necessary. In the +mood she was in, I was afraid either that she might attack herself with +the knife or use it against me. In any case, her being in possession of +the thing was a decided menace. + +To anyone outside who might have heard Anita's words, it would +undoubtedly seem that she really and truly despised me; I myself put +no stock in them. I was sure that her fit of temper was but a phase of +her physical condition and that she didn't mean any of the mean things +she said about me. You must know then that Anita was menstruating that +night and do not forget that earlier that very day she had had two +teeth extracted. What she had gone through was enough to make any woman +fly off the handle. + +I thought that if I could get the knife away from her and put her to +bed, in the morning everything would be peaceful again. She was still +screaming and clawing at my chest like some enraged lioness when I +finally managed to remove the dangerously sharp knife from her fingers. + +Then, to my dismay, the doorbell rang. + +Anita stopped her noise at once. Together we looked stupidly at one +another. Then she nodded that I should go and see who was outside. +The ringing of the bell evidently calmed her hysteria for, as though +thoroughly done in, she sank into a chair as I moved reluctantly toward +the front door, absent-mindedly dangling the captured knife from one +hand. + +Well, young Tom Murphy saw that carving-knife and he could not have +helped hearing all the screaming as he came up the walk. He gave me +a searching look as he handed me the package containing the sleeping +draught. + +"Here you are, Mr. Thatcher," he said. "This ought to do the trick." + +I accepted the package with the hand that held the knife, thanked him +in a hollow voice, and he hurried away as though he was anxious to get +out of the vicinity. + +When I got back to the kitchen, Anita was opening a large bottle of +beer which we were accustomed to drink after dinner during the hot +weather. She poured out two glasses recklessly, the foam spilling onto +the tablecloth. + +"It's a sleeping powder, Anita," I said, opening the packet and placing +the little fold of paper near her hand. "Your tooth may ache. Good idea +to drop it in your beer." + +She gave no sign that she heard me. Although she had stopped crying, +there was a wet shine to her eyes that I didn't like. In her silence +I could feel repressed a stony hatred for me and it absolutely took +away what few regrets I had regarding the store I was now so firmly +resolved to sell. Why I didn't tell her of my change of heart, I do +not know. Maybe if I had, things would have turned out differently. +However, I thought that if I waited until morning, Anita would be in a +more receptive mood. At the moment she was in a very unbalanced state +and the subject was one which would have to be handled delicately. If +I came right out and admitted defeat she might think that her weeping +and wailing had affected me. I did not want her to know that; she might +employ those tactics to wheedle me in the future. + +I made my way into the living-room in search of the evening paper. +Somehow it had found its way under one of the sofa pillows so that it +was almost five minutes before I returned with it to the kitchen. Anita +was no longer in the room. One of the beer glasses was empty and the +sleeping powder paper was crumbled into a tiny ball beside it. + +"Ah, she has taken it," I thought to myself, glad that the remainder +of the evening would be unspoiled by such scenes as had taken place at +dinner. + +Through the back window I could see Anita sitting woodenly on a +camp-chair, facing the lake. It looked so very peaceful out of doors +with the soft hand of twilight caressing the great trees, the ragged +lawn and the lake itself. It reminded me of the war, strangely enough. +After a heavy bombardment, when the firing ceased an unearthly +stillness seemed to shriek in one's ears and the relief of it all was +enough to drive one mad with happiness. And as I stared out of the +window, I was happy. The storm had blown over and, if I had anything to +do with causing it, it would never come again. + +With my glass of beer and my paper, I retired to the living-room. I +would have liked to sit outside with Anita but I did not wish to risk +any repetition of the quarrel. I was sure that she wanted to be alone +and I knew how unpleasant it was to have one's solitude trespassed +upon. So I made up my mind to let her alone. In the morning I would +tell her of my surrender, trying to make it sound as if it were my own +wish and not hers, and everything would be forgotten. We would dispose +of the store, the house, and all of the furniture which was sadly out +of date anyway. In New York we would start our lives all over again. + +Curiously, I began to anticipate making this fresh start with pleasure. +After all, Ithaca had not been very kind to us. True, we had made a +good living there, but we had had our scraps as well; and since our +marriage the war had forced its way between the two of us, brandishing +its most cruel weapon: estrangement. + +And the business I had built up out of nothing and struggled to keep; +what had it brought me? Trying to hold on to it in the face of Anita's +objections was a pyrrhic victory, a triumph as empty as the war. My +most precious possession, I told myself, was Anita's love. The rest was +only just so much baggage. + +These thoughts ran through my mind, bringing with them a conviction +that I had been a fool. When I took Anita as my wife I promised myself +that I would make her happy. + +Before I finished my beer or as much as read two columns of the +newspaper, I dropped into a deep sleep. + + * * * * * + +Now I come to the part of the story that is difficult to relate. During +the following hours I was still drowsy and feeling quite ill; then +again, it all happened so suddenly that before I actually became aware +of what was taking place, I found myself cooling my heels in the +Ithaca jail. + +I suppose I even looked guilty. Real emotions hardly ever seem real. +Stage performances have taken the edge off of them and stylized both +physical and mental reactions to such a degree that if a faint is +not executed in a certain way it looks bogus. My shocked expression, +throughout these proceedings I here set down, no doubt impressed the +police as being a very amateur affectation, attempted by me to conceal +my obvious guilt. I even heard one of the cell attendants informing +someone that I was "going to play nuts." + +If the following account of the morning I woke up sounds like a +falsehood, remember that it has since been proved the truth. + +It seemed to me that I had merely drifted off for a few minutes but +when I finally opened my eyes a bright morning sun was shining. So +brilliant was it that I was momentarily blinded and confused. I started +to rise from the chair but succeeded only in stumbling to the floor. My +legs were numb and my head felt inflated, like some child's balloon. +Before I could pick myself up from where I had fallen, I became +conscious that the doorbell was ringing. It was an insistent ring, as +though someone was belaboring the button in short, angry jabs. + +Still half asleep, I staggered to the door and opened it. I rubbed my +eyes, squinting up into the ruddy face of one of the town's constables. +It was Richter. + +"Sorry to get you up, Thatcher," he greeted me with apologetic +gruffness. "Say! You must have had one too many last night, eh?" + +"Hello, Captain. My God, what time is it?" + +"Almost ten. Young Murphy's going crazy down there at the store. +Business is certainly good this morning." He paused and fumbled in his +cap for a paper. "Say, Thatcher, I've got some bad news for you. I'm +afraid I'll have to bring you around to the station." + +This opened my eyes. Please believe that up until that time I had +never had any encounters with the police, having always been careful +not to violate any of the ordinances with the possible exception of +Prohibition. "What have I done, Captain? Murdered someone?" I asked. + +He laughed good-humoredly. "No. But you should have, while you were at +it. It's that Mackintosh kid. His old man swore out a warrant for your +arrest on a charge of assaulting his brat. I don't know if it's true or +not, but by God I'd like to assault him myself sometimes." + +"But look here, Captain," I protested. "I only..." + +"I know it's a damned nuisance. But orders, you know. The judge is a +pretty decent sort and he'll probably give you a medal. Better get your +hat." + +I shrugged my shoulders helplessly and told the constable to make +himself comfortable on the porch while I got myself ready. Since I was +so late for work anyhow, a little longer would make no difference. I +was positive, that when I made it clear to whomever was going to hear +the case exactly why I spanked Jackie, everything would be all right. + +As I turned to go inside, I felt Richter touch my sleeve. "Good Lord, +Thatcher! What did you do? Cut yourself?" + +"Why no," I answered, puzzled. "What makes you say that?" + +He pointed a finger at my trousers and, looking down at them, I saw +that they were stained with red! I stood there dumbfounded with my +mouth hanging open. + +"That's blood all right," I heard the policeman mutter. "Yes, sir. +That's blood. But where in hell did it come from?" + +Instantly I thought of the night just past. My mind was quick to grasp +the situation and it evoked a vivid picture of Anita, standing with the +carving-knife in her hand and threatening.... + +"Anita!" I shouted hoarsely and with my heart in my mouth I ran into +the house. I could hear Richter behind me, his ponderous weight making +the old floor-boards vibrate under my feet. + +I saw then that the living-room was a shambles. A table was overturned, +two lamps lay shattered on the carpet and everywhere were reddish +smears that looked suspiciously like bloodstains. In the kitchen we +found still more blood and a bloody apron of Anita's lying on the +table, still set with the dirty dinner dishes. On the apron we found +the carving-knife ... its blade a mess of crusted blood! + +In the face of all this horror, it is a wonder I didn't faint. However, +even so, it is impossible for me to describe my feelings of that +morning. Of course I was certain at once that Anita had committed +suicide, had severed her veins or something equally terrible. But on +racing through the rooms of the house, we could find no trace of her. +Only some clothes and the two teeth she had tossed onto the table +during dinner the night before spoke of her ever having been there. + +My frantic fear for Anita temporarily dulled my wits so that it was +not until the constable and I had picked about in the dark cellar for +some time that I remembered seeing Anita last sitting in the garden. +I seized the policeman's arm and all but pulled him up the stairs, +through the back hall and outside. + +But Anita was nowhere to be found. We searched the grounds thoroughly. +The camp-chair, where last I had seen her, was empty, the canvas back +of it still sagging from the weight of her shoulders. But, to our +horror, from the back porch to the very edge of the lake ran a dark, +repulsive trail of what was undoubtedly blood! In places there were +merely a few drops on the taller tufts of grass, hardly visible to the +eye; but mostly the awful trail ran wide.... + +"She's thrown herself in!" I gasped. "My God, Captain! What can we do?" + +I burst into tears, something I hadn't done for many, many years. The +constable waited in silence for me to control myself. He didn't try to +comfort me. + +"Oh, Anita!" I cried. "Why did you do it? Oh, why did you do it?" + +Richter spit into the lake. "That's what I'd like to know, Thatcher," +he said curtly. He was looking at me closely, his brows knit into a +frown. + +"Why, what do you mean, Richter?" I asked. + +"Oh, cut out that innocent stuff!" he growled disgustedly. "You know +damned well what I mean." + +I assured him that I did not. He surely wasn't insinuating that I... +Why the idea was absurd! Nevertheless, absurd or not, I saw the +constable's face stubbornly set. + +"You don't believe that she committed suicide?" I asked in confusion. +"Is it possible that she's still alive?" I stepped toward him and +seized the front of his uniform blouse. "Tell me what you're thinking!" +I demanded hysterically. + +"Alive hell!" was his comment and I suddenly felt my wrist encircled +by a steel cuff which clicked shut and pinched my skin. "I don't know +where you've hidden her, Thatcher, but she didn't commit no suicide!" + +"No?" + +"No. You better get yourself an alibi. How did you get that blood on +your pants?" + +"I don't know!" + +"Well for your own good you'd better find out." + +"But Anita...." + +"Oh, we'll fish her out all right. But not now." Richter tugged at the +bracelets. "I ain't got my water-wings with me. Come on," he added out +of the corner of his mouth as he led me away from the lake shore. + +I went along with him dazedly. There was nothing else I could do. + + * * * * * + +My trial was held in the Tompkins County Court house in Ithaca. The +State was represented by an obnoxious little Assistant District +Attorney who, nevertheless, I am forced to admit, handled his side of +the case magnificently. Point by point he scored tellingly until he had +almost convinced even me that I had done away with Anita. + +For the terrible part of it all was that I couldn't be quite sure +whether I had or not. As Assistant District Attorney Blackman pointed +out, I could very easily have committed the crime during one of my +unfortunate lapses of memory. True, this souvenir of the war had not +recurred since I was discharged from the hospital months before, but +there was no evidence to prove that it _couldn't_ recur. + +So when old Doc Turnbull, who visited me in my cell before the trial, +remarked kindly that he was sure I hadn't done it, I replied in +despair: "But that's just it! How can you say I didn't kill her when I +don't even know myself?" + +Unless my periodic amnesia was coupled with an unreasonable dementia, +there was no motive for my killing Anita--as far as I was concerned. +Gilberte's letter which I never read and which the State offered +in evidence, had had nothing to do with it. I certainly did not +murder Anita for Gilberte or for any other woman. Nevertheless, the +translation of the letter in court did sound bad. Blackman read it +aloud, punctuating each sentence with a knowing glance toward the jury +and stressing certain words and phrases which, I am sure, Gilberte had +never meant to be stressed. + +Translated, it ran something like the following: + + August 8, 1919 + + Dearest Peter, + + Perhaps I should not write to you ... but you forgot to forbid it. + It seems so long ago that we parted in the garden! I sit there + seldom nowadays because invariably it evokes sad memories and I do + not wish to think about you. That would be sheer masochism, nothing + more. Oh, Peter, if only you knew how wretched I am! By now you + are with your wife, _pretending_ that you are happy. For you are + pretending, you know. You can't possibly be happy with that woman. + From what you have told me about her, I am sure that she doesn't + care for you ... at least not half as much as I do. That is the + terrible part about life: the people who love are rarely loved + in return. Sometimes I find myself dreaming that one morning you + will awake and find her gone ... run off with another man or--yes, + you've guessed it--dead. With her out of the way, I know that you'd + come back to me, wouldn't you, Peter? But it is just a dream. I + cannot hope for so simple a solution to my problem ... the problem + that is turning me from a young girl into a sour old woman. I + suppose it is useless to ask you to write. You will, as always, + follow the dictates of your heart. + + Your miserable, + + Gilberte. + +Sitting there day after day in court, I watched the chain of +circumstantial evidence grow stronger. After each witness testified, +I saw the worried frown upon the face of my lawyer deepen. He was a +very conscientious chap, Mr. Bristol; and I am sure he believed me +absolutely innocent. If this was so, he was the only person, aside from +Doctor Turnbull, who did. + +They subpoenaed my assistant, Tom Murphy, who grudgingly +admitted that he had heard Anita and me quarreling; had seen the +carving-knife--State's Exhibit C--in my hand when I answered the door; +and that he had delivered to me, at my request, a potent compound of +sodium amytal upon the night in question. + +"Did you hear any of the words, Mr. Murphy?" + +"Yes, I'm afraid I did. I heard her scream...." + +"Go on, Mr. Murphy. What did she scream?" + +"I heard her yelling that he was hurting her." + +The prosecution then went on to establish that I had been in a rare +fury all through the day of August 20th. They called Mrs. Wainscott +and Mr. and Mrs. Mackintosh to the stand. The last mentioned witness +so deftly misused her words that the jury was left with the impression +that I had drawn and quartered her precious Jackie instead of mildly +spanked him. + +Next, to my astonishment, Anita's extracted teeth were offered in +evidence. The prosecution suggested that I had knocked them loose from +her mouth with an angry blow! + +Photographs depicting the scene of the crime, the wrecked kitchen and +living-room, the preponderance of blood and the gory trail to the +lake shore made the jury shudder and glance at me as though I were +some grotesque curiosity. The blood-encrusted carving-knife; a torn, +blood-soaked dress of Anita's which I had not been shown before; and +my own stained trousers completed the major points of the State's case. + +But they were unable to produce a _corpus delicti_. + +Counsellor Bristol made much of this; it was his entire case, in fact. +"How can there be a murder," he demanded, "without someone getting +killed? And if someone was killed, who has seen the body? Lord Hale and +Sir Edward Coke, those world-famous interpreters of law, positively +forbid convictions unless the fact of murder has been proven. A _corpus +delicti_ must be established! And to establish the same, there must +first be a body and proof that the deceased perished by a criminal +agency. It is easy to understand why these precautions must be taken. +To quote Blackstone: 'It is far better that ten guilty escape than +one innocent man be punished and made to suffer for naught.' In this +case, there were no eye-witnesses to the crime ... if such a crime did +actually take place. How then can we assume that on the night of August +the twentieth this man did feloniously assault and kill his wife? The +State has produced slim evidence indeed that this man was in love with +another woman! From the letter, State's Exhibit B, it is admitted that +the woman was in love with the Defendant. But by what evidence can the +State prove that my client reciprocated her feelings? As a matter of +fact, is it not more logical to suppose that, if my client really loved +this woman, he would not have returned to his wife at all? The State +has proved nothing of any importance. They have placed many articles +in evidence but they have not proved, within the faintest shadow of a +doubt, that these were used to commit a crime. The very weapon, this +blood-stained knife, which the State presumes was the death agent; by +what right can my worthy opponent claim such was the case? How does he +know that death was not brought about by poison, by strangulation, by +a pistol? How does he know there has been a death at all? Certainly +there is nothing more innocuous than a sleeping powder! How has the +State shown that it was used to drug a victim in order that murder +might be done without a struggle? And regarding the heated quarrel +the State makes so much of: does every petty argument between husband +and wife always lead to violence and homicide? Show me the man who has +never had words with his wife! And take note of this, gentlemen of +the jury. A man administers a much-deserved spanking; does that label +him a potential killer? If that were so, how many parents would now +be languishing in prisons! I have said before, and I will say again, +that it is up to the prosecution to prove my client guilty. He is not +required to prove his innocence! Has the State done so? Have they +proved that Peter Thatcher lies when he says that the teeth, marked +State's Exhibit D, were extracted by a New York City dentist? There is +no case here!" + +When my lawyer had finished summing up, Assistant District Attorney +Blackman got to his feet. "The overwhelming evidence of murder in +this case," he began, "is quite sufficient for us to presume death. +By the trail of blood leading down to the shore of the lake, we can +be certain, within the faintest shadow of a doubt, that the body was +dragged there and thrown in, perhaps weighted down with stones. It is +difficult to recover a body thus disposed of. The shifting currents +of any large body of water, particularly a so-called bottomless +lake like Cayuga, will ofttimes carry whatever has been thrown in, +back and forth. If the body is weighted, it is possible that it may +never be recovered." Blackman paused, pointed an accusing finger in +my direction, and then went on in a grand manner. "Are we to allow +a murderer to go unpunished because he has been clever enough to +successfully destroy the evidence of his guilt? Picture for yourselves, +gentlemen of the jury, what chaos would come if we established such +a precedent here in this courtroom! A fiend could commit a murder on +the high seas, before a hundred witnesses, and, tossing his victim +over the rail, laugh at our courts if the body was not recovered! +Here we have a man, a person _known_ to have suffered mental relapses +due to shell-shock; _known_ to have engaged in a furious battle with +his wife; _seen_ with this same knife, now covered with blood, in +his hand by one of the witnesses who inadvertently interrupted the +fight; _caught_ by an officer of the law, whose testimony you heard; +and _clad_ in these bloody trousers! What more can you ask? You have +heard read a passionate appeal from this man's mistress that he kill +his wife and return to her side. The Defendant swears that he was +unable to read that letter. Do you believe that? Would that woman +have written so dangerous a letter to him in a language she knew he +could not understand--_without getting someone to translate it for +him_? You know that the Defendant sent his victim into New York City +on the afternoon of August the twentieth. Isn't it logical to suppose +that, in view of the evidence, he did this to get her out of the way +so that he might more carefully set the scene for his heinous deed? +You have heard sworn testimony to the fact that Peter Thatcher ordered +a sleeping powder--ostensibly because his wife's teeth were giving +her trouble. Yet, we are unable to extract from him the name of the +dentist he claims she visited! Is it logical to suppose that a man +would be ignorant of the identity of his wife's dentist? Can we not +safely assume that the sleeping powder was intended--no, was actually +employed--for quite another purpose? We must not overlook the fact +that the Defendant was making use of a potent drug, the use of which +is forbidden unless upon a physician's written prescription. And +furthermore, gentlemen, remember that the Defendant, when I frankly +questioned him, _did not even bother to deny that he was guilty of +the charges as set forth in the indictment_! To the question, 'Peter +Thatcher, didn't you drug and kill your wife on the night of August +the twentieth, using this knife as a weapon and later disposing of +the body, by throwing it into the lake?' he replied: 'I don't know! +I really don't know! There was no reason why I should have killed +her!'" Here, the Assistant District Attorney waxed violent. He pounded +emphatically upon the jury-box rail. "Is that the answer an innocent +man would make? Is it? Can we, as citizens engaged in meting out +justice, possibly free a man who is not himself convinced of his own +innocence? How can there remain the slightest doubt but that somewhere +in the chill waters of Lake Cayuga floats submerged the ghastly +remains of the young wife Peter Thatcher so ruthlessly slew in order +that he might return to the obviously depraved woman he really loved! +Are we to permit this? You have noticed that the Defense is based only +upon one detail: that the forces of Nature have prevented us from +establishing the missing corpse. With the body of the woman, we would +have a clear case. _But_, are we so blind, so idiotic, so unwilling to +be intelligent that we must, like Doubting Thomas, peer into the very +wounds? Cannot even a child perceive that a murder has been committed +and that the perpetrator has been apprehended and brought to justice? +This man, Peter Thatcher, claims that he loved his wife and that she +loved him. If this is so, and he did not brutally murder her, I ask the +Defense just one thing: _Where is Anita Hunt Thatcher?_" + + * * * * * + +The jury went out on September the second. They remained locked up for +five and a half hours. During this time, I was taken back to my cell +where my lawyer, Mr. Bristol, gave me a good talking to. + +"You see," he ranted. "What did I tell you? When the District Attorney +asked you if you killed her, you should have denied it!" + +"But how do I know I didn't?" I asked him. + +"How do you know you did?" he countered sourly. "It's a good thing that +they're not entitled to convict without establishing the body ... or +you'd be sunk!" + +I looked up into Bristol's face anxiously. "Can't they do anything to +me?" + +The lawyer pulled at the roots of his hair and rolled his eyes upward +in despair. "Don't be an ass, Thatcher! Anything can happen if the +jury wants it to. If they take a fancy to you or believe that you're +innocent; the State can produce a hundred bodies, your signed and +notarized confession, even a picture of you committing the crime! You'd +still be acquitted!" He began to pace the floor distractedly. I really +believe that he was more nervous about the verdict than I was. + +This might be a good time to mention how I happened to engage Mr. +Bristol to handle my defense. He came to me, highly recommended by my +old friend Mrs. Michaelson, who was taking a great interest in the +case. Knowing very well that I had never had any large amount of ready +cash, she informed me that Bristol would be willing to represent me +without a retainer. I gratefully clutched at this opportunity, you +may be sure; and I at once engaged him. However, Mrs. Michaelson's +information proved quite inaccurate. Before the trial came up on the +calendar of Judge Foley, Counsellor Bristol was in possession not only +of four hundred dollars of my money, but of the deed to my home as well. + +I did not begrudge him this. First of all, I knew that with Anita +gone, I could never bring myself to enter that house again. Under its +roof brooded a secret which I might never be able to uncover. Every +nook and cranny of the place would taunt me. If I tried to live there +in the future, I would most certainly go mad. In the event that I was +exonerated of the charges against me, I was only too keenly aware that +my life could not continue without some radical change of course. +Ithaca would never accept me again; there were bound to be people who +would think me guilty; and my business was sure to suffer commensurate +losses. Then, too, I would be faced with memories there: persons who +had known her, walls which had once enclosed her, shops she had been +accustomed to patronize. + +It was of no use, you see. Anita's passing carried me along as though +in an unbreakable death hold; and so bewildered was I, that I was +almost wishing that I would not be acquitted. I would be at a loss what +to do. + +Of course the people from my home town were all very nice to me. Mrs. +Michaelson and Doctor Turnbull and several others came down to see +me, bringing little gifts of candy and cigarettes, and trying their +utmost to cheer me up. But these few were really the only friends I +had. To most of Ithaca's inhabitants, I was merely a familiar face, an +inanimate object that fetched what they demanded, like a retriever. + +The newspapers did not make much of the case. On the evening of August +21st, the day of my arrest, a short column was all that appeared in the +New York City sheets. The local paper, of course, came out with banner +headlines which read: DRUGGIST HELD FOR HOMICIDE. In the sub-headings, +and there were fully four of them, came the usual journalistic +hyperboles, and reading about myself and my affairs was quite puzzling. +Yes, indeed. To my amazement, I was described as prosperous, handsome +and popular! My little house and unpretentious grounds were declared +an estate! In fact, the only thing that the papers did not grossly +exaggerate and distort out of all proportion was Anita's loveliness. +"The body of beautiful Anita Thatcher has not as yet been recovered," +the _Journal-News_ announced, "but the police are confident that within +twenty-four hours ... etc., etc...." + +While my mind wandered back over the events that had transpired since +my sudden arrest, my lawyer continued to pace up and down, striking his +hands together frequently and muttering under his breath. "Yes," he +would reiterate, as though to convince himself, "they're not entitled +to convict you without a _corpus delicti_. How can there possibly be a +conviction for murder without proof that someone died?" He came to a +halt in front of me and looked down at me as I lay full-length upon the +cot. I could see that his eyes were troubled. "The worst they could do +would be to find you guilty of manslaughter. They haven't established +the weapon; neither have they proved premeditation. But juries are +funny," he went on, shaking his head dubiously from side to side. "They +do what they want." + +"Oh," I murmured, although I could not understand why that should +be permitted. It did not seem quite right that humans should judge +humans and wield the power of life and death which, according to the +theologians, should be vested solely in Divinity. + +"Blackman scored a good point," glumly admitted my attorney, "when he +demanded to know the whereabouts of your wife. I'd give a thousand +dollars to know that! Look, Thatcher, can't you try and think...." + +I sighed wearily. He had asked me the same thing at least ten times +before. "It's no use. I've tried, Mr. Bristol. There was absolutely no +reason for her to disappear. Besides ... how about that blood?" + +Bristol grunted his disappointment. "Yes, that's right. I keep +forgetting. Oh, no doubt she's dead all right. But who killed her? You +didn't." + +"No?" I asked earnestly. + +"I give up! You're impossible, man! How in hell can I defend you if you +talk like that?" The lawyer strode angrily to the cell door and shouted +for the turnkey to let him out. + +"Are you going up?" I asked disinterestedly. The way I was feeling +then, I didn't care what he did. + +"I suppose so," was the vexed reply. "The jury can't stay out much +longer. There's a rumor circulating in the court that they stand eight +to four for acquittal. But you know how those things are. Only God and +the jury can verify it." + +When the cell door had clanged shut behind him and his footsteps had +died away in the distance, I got up from the cot and began to pace a +bit myself. I felt utterly miserable. Anita's face kept coming back to +haunt me. Although I could not be certain that I was guilty, I felt +like a murderer. I felt like one of those ugly newspaper portraits +plastered under, above and between the lurid headlines I had so often +read during the quiet evenings in my garden. I began to think that +I _must_ have killed her. For I had taken a life once before, if +you remember. Was it not logical to suppose that I had plunged the +carving-knife into Anita just as I had done to the German boy a year +before? + +But why? + +Why indeed! Must there be a reason for everything, I asked myself. If I +had worn my uniform would I have been legally entitled to kill Anita? +If the knife had not been a carving-knife, but a trench-knife or a +bayonet stamped: PROPERTY OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, would I now +be freed? Would Carter have nodded his head and the Sarge patted me on +the back? + +These hysterical thoughts, these unanswerable questions, these +incoherent emanations of a tortured brain kept me occupied while I +waited for twelve strange men to decide my fate. + +But, unbelievable as it sounds, I was not so much interested in the +verdict--which might even mean my execution--as I was in finding out +whether or not I had been instrumental in bringing about my beloved +wife's end. That she was dead, I had no doubt. But was I her murderer? + +Footsteps sounded in the corridor. They approached and stopped before +my cell. "Come on, Thatcher," I heard the turnkey say. "The jury's come +in." When, at last, he had delivered me into the custody of two tall +deputies, he added: "Good luck, buddy. And whatever it is, take it +standing up." + +"Gentlemen, have you reached a verdict?" + +"We have, Your Honor." + +"Please read it." + +The sound of a throat being cleared reached my ears through a peculiar +ringing noise I was unable to catalogue. The courtroom began to spin +before me and only a vague impression of strange faces and dark wooden +benches remains even now. + +"We, the jury, find the Defendant, Peter Thatcher...." + +I took it standing up. + + + + + PART THREE + + THE FRUIT + + +Prison! I spent eighteen years of my life there. Only it wasn't life, +nor even an existence. Without exaggeration, I think that I can +justly call it hell. For while my physical body was hammering away at +unyielding bars and at the bare walls which held me captive, my mind +bruised as it battered itself upon its own uncertainty. By this, I +do not mean to corroborate the press statements which suggest that I +possess "the warped mind of a killer." I know that I am not insane; but +the mark of those years can never be erased. + +Unfortunately, there is no way I can find to adequately describe +my suffering. But then I am reasonably certain that even the great +Russian masters of tragedy--Tolstoi, Maxim Gorki, Dostoievski--would +be quick to perceive the emptiness of their words in the telling of +my story and would probably throw down their pens in despair. So I +will say again that it was simply hell ... the hell of living with +my own self and hating it; and tormenting myself with hopelessly +unsolvable problems. Even the war that I had managed to survive, with +its ever-present threat of pain or death, cannot be compared to the +eighteen years I was imprisoned. And that, you will admit, coming from +me, is saying something! + +By far my favorite book since I first stumbled upon it at the age of +twelve or thirteen in my father's library, is Dumas' masterpiece, _The +Count of Monte Cristo_. I have read it through many, many times and +have never grown tired of it. Even during my term at Sing Sing, I took +it out of the prison library at least four or five different times. My +cellmates, Bernie Dunbar and "Cupid" Moran, commented upon this. "Say, +Pete, ain't that the one you had out last year?" I admitted that it was +and persuaded Bernie to read it. "Cupid," after I had given him a brief +synopsis of the plot, disgustedly refused to "waste his time with such +crap." This rather surprised me. I remembered that "Cupid" was in for +life. However, he assured me in no uncertain terms that the Chateau +d'If was no worse than some of the "cans" he had been in; that Dantes +was a fool for not having hired a smart "mouthpiece" who might have +been able to "spring him on a writ"; and that he had never heard of +anyone getting by with "a gag like playing dead." But Bernie liked the +book very much. + +And while my hair did not turn gray and I grew no long beard and I did +not spend all of my leisure hours plotting an escape, I feel that I had +very much in common with Edmond Dantes. Both of us had left a woman on +the outside; both of us had been in love. I think, though--and in all +fairness to Dumas' hero--that I suffered the more; for his girl still +lived while mine was dead. Moreover, Dantes was not an alleged slayer. + +How often did I thump my forehead and try to jar from it some seemingly +unimportant fact which might establish either my innocence or my +guilt! It would not have made much difference if a jury believed ... +just as long as I did. + +I had better explain why, since my sentence only called for a maximum +of fifteen years, I served three in addition. These were imposed upon +me for my part in a scheme to break out. Although I feverishly desired +freedom--if for no other reason but to find out whether or not I had +really killed Anita--I had no desire to brave the inevitable peril +of getting shot. Besides, the plan as it was explained to me by Paul +Comstock and "Cupid," seemed utterly foolhardy and impossible. But +"Cupid" threatened to "push my face in" if I refused to do what he +asked and, remembering that this cellmate of mine had been a prominent +gunman in underworld circles, I reluctantly agreed to help out. + +It happened that Bernie Dunbar was nearing the end of his stretch. On +December 18th--I think it was in the year 1926--he was scheduled to be +released. The plan was that he should purchase a speedboat, with funds +"Cupid's" mother would provide, and station himself as close to the +prison as possible during the week immediately following Christmas. The +theory that the guards were paying little attention to the river during +the cold weather seemed to assure them of an easy escape. It would +prove a cold swim, but the two were determined to take a chance. + +I never found out just how they planned to get out of the prison and +down to the river. It seemed unfeasible, what with all the high walls, +the flood-lights and the guard-towers; and I guess they didn't trust me +enough to tell. When I asked "Cupid," he merely winked significantly +and announced that "five hundred berries goes a long way." Hence, long +having been a bookworm, I imagined stealthy slinking in the shadows +of the walls, wholesale slaughter of guards with smuggled pistols +equipped with silencers, and lightning, one-minute changes into prison +officials' uniforms. + +I was not to take part in the actual escape--for which I was inwardly +thankful. My reward was to be a crafty underworld lawyer who would +appeal my case gratis or pull some mysterious political strings with +the Parole Board. In either case, they told me, I could not fail "to be +out in no time." It occurred to me that if this was so, it was curious +that Bernie, "Cupid" and Paul were in prison at all. But I was shrewd +enough to keep my mouth shut. Except for Bernie--who, by the way, never +purchased the boat--they are in prison yet. + +However, since I was needed in the scheme, I had no choice in the +matter. At a given hour, I was to faint or otherwise act very ill. If +necessary, I was to thrust a finger down my throat so that I would +vomit. When the guards came to remove me to the infirmary, the machine +of escape was to be put into action. + +"You don't need to worry none," "Cupid" laughed when I expressed the +fear that there would be shooting in the cell. "Them guards what +are coming are O.K. They're wise and they'll take the count like a +gymnasium cowboy with a ten-spot in his glove. Just do like we told you +and it'll be as smooth as silk. Yeah. Smooth as silk." + +Well, it went smooth as silk. The night arrived and I played sick and +the guards came and "Cupid" tried to slug them. Two minutes later, +"Cupid" was removed to the prison infirmary instead of me. I was +placed in solitary confinement and, since the one guard "Cupid" had +managed to hit suffered a slight concussion, I was made to serve three +additional years. Paul Comstock, whom "Cupid" was to have released +after dispensing with the guards, was never discovered to be a part of +the plot. This seemed to me to be rather unfair. I drew the conclusion +that Justice was not alone blind, but stupid as well. + + * * * * * + +Prison, or at least the one I was in, was not very much like the +movies, books and plays would have you believe. They would have you +look upon it as a living death, with the idea of hoping to discourage +potential criminals from embarking upon dishonest careers. This is +not true. In all of my eighteen years, I saw no deliberate cruelty. +True, I saw a few men handled roughly upon occasion; but in every +case this treatment was merited. In Sing Sing, perhaps due to Warden +Lawes' admirable innovations, no man is abused if he behaves himself, +and no guard will molest a prisoner without justification. Moreover, +life is made as bearable for the inmates as possible. Vocations are +taught, athletics encouraged, and conditions are made as sanitary and +as pleasant as yearly appropriations will permit. + +Of course the absence of women companions makes men restless and +unhappy. Sex preys upon the minds of the prisoners far more than the +sins they are being punished for and the fact that they are no longer +free men. Very often insanity results, or perversions and unclean +habits are substituted for the normal act of intercourse. This, sadly, +is a prevalent practice in all penal institutions and there is nothing +that can be done about it. Pains are taken, of course, to segregate +those men who have succumbed to various forms of sexual perversion; but +it is not rare that a prisoner who begins his sentence normal, ends up +quite the reverse. This, in my own humble opinion, is the greatest +problem prison officials have still to face. + +The desire for women is intensified by the knowledge that they are +beyond reach. For myself, I make no pretence that I am of a higher +moral fabric than other men. At first I thought that I would lose my +mind, so violent was my need for a woman. And in my head, melodramatic +as it may sound, there seemed to be a constant beating of drums, +throbbing pains that grew more acute and frequent as weeks slipped by. +Then, set it down as madness, Gilberte came to me. I tried to fight +her memory as she emerged from the obscurity into which my idiocy had +plunged her. As I lay on my hard bunk, I tried desperately to replace +her vision by thinking of Anita. But Anita, I knew, was dead and during +these spells I found it difficult to remember what she looked like. + +So, in a semi-conscious state, I felt Gilberte's hand touch my brow and +I would suddenly find myself back in France, in the hospital garden. +The odor of the flower beds filled my nostrils once more, superimposed +upon the fumes of antiseptics and the stench of decaying flesh. In +that trance would I relive many moments and over and over would I +succumb to the beauty of that one mistake we made. + +In the morning when I awakened, I felt much refreshed. I no longer +cared that I was in prison for I knew that the dream would come again; +this became an obsession with me. But I came to dread the days; my mind +was preoccupied with thoughts of Anita. + +This is what makes of prison the hell I have named it. Naturally, I +consider my own case the most harrowing, but it is very possible that +many other convicts suffered equally--if for some other reason. For +prison forces men to live with themselves and with their own dark +thoughts. It removes the healing ointment of outside diversions: +people, changes of scene, any number of things which might help men to +forget the past. Now, you can understand why it was doubly bad in my +particular case. There was also this: I could not convince myself that +I had really murdered my wife, and there was no way I could uncover +the truth--my innocence or my guilt--while locked up in a cell. + +All through those eighteen years--from the time I went in at the age of +twenty-eight, until I grew to be forty-six--I was constantly plagued +by the need of knowing the truth. In the prison shop, no matter what +job was assigned to me, I took no interest. No activity could provide +the answer I so fervently craved. In the yard, the mess hall, the +cell-block, Anita's face followed me. + +My cellmate, Bernie Dunbar, tried his best to drive out my morbid +thoughts. He was a very young man, two or three years my junior. His +face was tanned and handsome and, even after eight years, he had not +developed what the novelists are pleased to term "prison pallor." His +crime was that of robbery and assault with a deadly weapon. + +"It wasn't really deadly," Bernie told me, "unless you can call a +blank-cartridge pistol a deadly weapon. I stuck up a drugstore. I +didn't want to hurt anybody. All I wanted was dough. But when I told +the fellow behind the counter to open up the safe, the damned fool +started yelling for the cops. Well, what could I do? Stand there and +get pinched? I conked him with the butt of the thing and he took a +nose-dive." + +I made the observation that such a blow might easily cause death. Being +myself a druggist, I felt that I should take sides against Bernie. +Consequently, when he sighed, shrugged helplessly and asked, "Well, +what would _you_ have done?" I forgot that he was putting me in _his_ +position and replied, "I would have shouted for the police, too." But, +come to think of it, I do not believe I would have done any such thing. +Always having carefully preserved my health, undoubtedly I would have +opened the safe. + +Bernie's method in trying to comfort me was to give detailed accounts +of what awful fates awaited many of the other prisoners. He seemed well +acquainted with the other inmates of the prison and, in the course +of three or four years, succeeded in telling me many ghastly tales. +Although he assured me that the stories were all true, I thought some +of them sounded somewhat extreme and implausible. + +"You know that guy, Barstowe, in the death house? He chopped his mother +and father to pieces with an axe. He wanted the insurance money, I +guess. And to make it look like someone else had done it, he chopped +off one of his own hands. He would have got away with it too, only the +damned fool left his finger-prints all over the handle of the thing." + +Then: "You know Middleton? He poisoned his girl only she didn't die. +Was he burned up! She testified in court and he's in here for twenty +years. He told me that he wouldn't have minded serving time, if he had +done the job right." + +Also: "You know Frank Juliano? As soon as he's finished his stretch +here, they've got something else to pin on him. Say, if that boy _ever_ +gets out of jail, it'll be a miracle. And you, kicking about your +troubles! Why, any day they might find out you didn't knock her off and +you'll get sprung. But that guy has _nothing_ to look forward to!" + +One day "Cupid," who was usually silent, broke into the conversation. +"Yeah? And look at me. I'm here for life. Of course that don't mean +forever. I may get paroled in about fifteen or twenty years. But what +the hell. I'll be sixty years old! What in Christ's name can a guy do +when he's sixty?" + +I pretended to sympathize with "Cupid." So did Bernie, for that matter. +But in my heart I believed that the world was much better off with +"Cupid" under lock and key. He was one of those habitual cases. He +was possessed of an inhuman courage that was almost brutishly stupid. +Bullets, police, and fellow criminals failed to impress him; for +"Cupid" was not intelligent enough to be afraid. Once released, he +was certain to re-embark upon his life of crime. And his record, at +the time I knew him, was literally dotted with robberies, killings, +kidnappings and terms in innumerable penitentiaries. You may be sure +that I took pains never to get on the wrong side of this one-man crime +wave. + +But, despite all Bernie's efforts, I could not forget. Often at night I +would have nightmares in which Anita's body would suddenly materialize +before me, bloody and full of gaping wounds. Twice, in the throes of +these horrible dreams, I rolled off the upper bunk, injuring myself +considerably on the cement floor of the cell. Bernie, sympathetic, was +gracious enough to change bunks with me, permitting me to take the +coveted lower. Even after the change, the nightmares continued. The +first night I occupied my new bed, I rolled off again. The fall, from +less altitude, did not hurt me much, but it woke up Cupid. He hoisted +himself out of bed, seized me roughly by the front of my undershirt, +and dealt me a heavy blow on the point of my jaw. Although I landed on +my bunk, I was unconscious for over a minute. When I came to, "Cupid" +jerked me to my feet and waved his big ham of a fist under my nose. + +"Spoil my night's sleep again, you little son of a bitch, and I'll pin +your ears back!" + +The dreams kept returning each night, but I made sure that I wouldn't +fall again. I slept with one wrist caught in the framework of the bunk. + + * * * * * + +Anita's body was never found. Several bodies were discovered floating +in the lake by the police during the years, but not one of them in +any way resembled her. Obviously, without the corpse, no hint as to +the identity of her slayer could be investigated; and there was no +reason why any other opinion should be formed but that I had committed +the crime. Accordingly, after the first year of my incarceration, my +lawyer, Mr. Bristol, lost all interest in the case. No appeal was ever +made in my behalf. + +Incidentally, I sold my store, too. With the money I got from The +Great Eastern Chain, I engaged the services of a private investigation +bureau. This organization unearthed nothing whatever and, when my +capital was exhausted, they had the colossal cheek to visit me in +prison and inform me that they believed me guilty. This made me very +angry. I would not have minded them telling me this if they could have +shown some sort of proof. I was spending every cent I had in the world +to find out--if only for my own satisfaction--that I was innocent; +or--if only to rid myself of doubt--that I was guilty. + +Late in the year 1930, Doc Turnbull paid me his last visit. It had +been the old man's habit to come once each year to see me. Usually, +it was during the summer--that being the only time he could get away +from Ithaca. "Sure, son, it's like a vacation. I haven't a relative +in the world, thank God, except Sarah. And, well, she's not exactly a +relative. She's my wife. So the only one I can visit is you." + +In spite of Doc's gruff dismissing of sentiment, I am sure that he +thought of me as a son. Through the wire screen of the visiting-room, +his homely words of wisdom did much to relieve the great weight I +carried. + +"Boy, you're looking through field glasses the wrong way. Know what +I mean? Hell, no one ever got to first base in this old ball game +by living in the past. To hell with yesterday, I say! Why, son, do +you know how many men I've killed since I began practicing medicine? +Practicing is right! I've been practicing for forty-three years! But +does that bother me?" + +"But Doc," I said, "if I only knew whether I did it or not! You know I +loved Anita and...." + +"I don't think you did do it, Pete. But what's the use of thinking +about it? No one will ever find out about it now. Too much water has +passed under the bridge. Forget it. You're serving time. It won't be +long now until you'll be let out. Think of that." + +"I am." + +"Good. It's only seven years more ... less than that, if you skip +Sundays. Why hell, it took me seven years to cure one case alone. The +fellow was an alcoholic. Wouldn't let old demon rum alone. Do you know +what my treatment was?" + +"No." + +"I kept drinking his stuff. Never left him much of anything. Gradually, +he got used to less and less until...." Here, Doc commenced to chuckle. +"... I had to take the cure myself." + +Through him, I learned what little there was to know about Ithaca. "You +know that Mrs. Michaelson had another heart attack? Third one, Pete. +No, nothing serious yet. And say, you ought to see what they've done +to your store! More chrome plate in it than a barber-shop! Can you +beat it, they sell perfume and _books_! I'm dealing at Ray Cavender's +now. Hate to do it, but what can a poor doctor do when he's got some +prescriptions to be filled? Those Great Eastern chumps only know how +to make sandwiches and sodas. And, oh yes! Remember Leo Carpenter with +the blonde moustache that thought he was a doctor? Well, he's not +practicing any more, I hear. He went to Vienna shortly after his old +man died, you know. Said he was going to study under some of those +foreign fakers. Well, Carpenter is writing books now. Medical books. I +got one but I can't figure out what it's all about! Every other word is +in Latin or Greek or some such uncivilized tongue! And the footnotes! +One page text, three pages footnotes! But let me see, there was +something else I wanted to tell you.... Sure, I know! Jackie Mackintosh +is in reform school! That kid is a regular Jesse James! He robbed three +Ithaca stores last summer and a grocery in Owego. They caught him, +though, and he confessed." + +As he left me that last time, his parting words were: "Now don't forget +that there is a future coming, Pete. Turn those old field glasses +around and look ahead. You're still a young man ... compared with me! +And I'm still looking ahead, you bet! There's plenty of practicing left +to do before I can sit back and consider myself a perfect undertaker! +Why, I expect to live to be a hundred!" + +A month later I learned that he was dead. + +Now, whenever I think of old Doc Turnbull, my eyes dim with tears. He +was such a fine person. The two of us got along so well together that I +like to think that it was only an accident of birth which prevented us +from being father and son. Yes, I loved that old man; and if there is +such a place as heaven, I know that he's there. + +There is little more to be said about the years I spent in prison. +For the most part they were dull, each day exactly like the one +before, with routine blunting the memory, fortunately. Contrary to the +accepted idea of scratching off the days and even the half-days on the +calendar, I did no such thing. Prisoners--I think I am safe in the +generalization--prefer to forget about time. Their terms seem to pass +more quickly if they do not keep themselves conscious of it. + +But if, because I have given so little space to my life in prison, you +get the erroneous impression that I did not miss so much, remember that +while I paced back and forth across twelve feet of cell, radio made its +initial appearance in the American home; motion pictures were greatly +improved and, at length, made to speak; and Harding, Coolidge, Hoover +and Franklin Roosevelt rested their troubled heads on White House +pillows. Yes, and much more than that. Came the boom times of '27 and +'28, the stock-market crash and the subsequent depression. Lindbergh +flew to Paris, Byrd to the Polar regions. European governments were +overthrown. Women's skirts grew shorter and longer and then shorter +again. Henry made a lady out of Lizzie. Buildings were erected higher +than the Woolworth. Fashion decreed that even portly matrons bob their +hair. Indeed, the very map of the earth changed during those eighteen +years! + +Prohibition gave birth to rackets, put teeth into gangdom and lined +their pockets with money--before Roosevelt's administration decided +to balance the budget. Dillinger played hide and seek. Hauptmann died +in the Chair. Bridge became the nation's pastime. Hitler removed his +corporal's chevrons. O'Neill managed to get some of his plays produced +and Sinclair Lewis tapped out a book or two. Gertrude Ederle swam the +Channel. Garbo demanded screen credit. Ice-boxes were made to freeze +without ice, stoves to burn without gas. Dollar bills grew smaller in +size as in purchasing power. + +To this very day I have not seen the George Washington Bridge, the +Holland Tunnel to Jersey, or been inside the Music Hall. I did manage +to catch a glimpse of the towering Empire State, but only from a great +distance. + +One day the warden sent for me and when I came into his office he +showed me his desk calendar. I saw that it was 1937 and September and a +Tuesday. Then he gave me a good cigar, asked me to sit down, and talked +to me for a long time. + +The next morning, I walked through the prison gates a free man, rather +timidly blinking my eyes at a strange world. + + * * * * * + +The first thing I did when I got out was to take a train for Ithaca. I +was fully cognizant of the fact that I no longer had connections there. +Doc Turnbull was dead and so was Mrs. Michaelson. However, there was +nowhere else to go and, had I not been so determined to find out the +truth of things, I really believe I would have turned about-face and +begged the Warden to take me in again. + +Here I was, penniless almost and without a friend, dead set on finding +out about something that had happened fully eighteen years before. +But, although it appeared a foolish notion and utterly pointless, I +found myself irresistibly drawn to the scene of the crime. Of course I +realized that if the police, lawyers and the private detectives I had +hired could unearth nothing, it was vain of me to think that I might +succeed where they had failed. Nevertheless, I bought my ticket for +Ithaca. + +There was one emotion I had which authors have described truthfully. +Even after several hours, when the novelty of freedom was wearing +off, I imagined that people were staring at me. It was decidedly an +uncomfortable feeling and I felt very guilty. I had all I could do to +assure myself that I had a right to liberty and that I was now once +again as much a part of the social scheme of things as anyone else. But +eyes continued to bore little holes into my back. Heads that turned, I +was sure were turning to stare at me. + +Then I realized that it was my clothes. My shoes were prison-made and +a size too large. My hat and stiff collar were hopelessly out of date. +Therefore, although the train was just pulling into the station, I +decided to wait in Ossining until the next one came along. I had a +little money--about forty odd dollars--and a small clothier's shop +across the street beckoned to me. + +"Yes? And what can I do for you, sir?" + +"I want almost everything." + +"Ah! The works?" + +"The works." + +"Come this way." + +And half an hour later I emerged, my appearance altered. Though the +forty dollars represented all the money I possessed in the world, I had +spent sixteen of it. Anything was better than being stared at. + + * * * * * + +Coming back to my home town after so long an absence brought a mist to +my eyes. I thought of Odysseus in Homer's epic, returning to Ithaca +and Penelope. I remembered the poem well because we had been forced to +study it at Ithaca High. Well, I was returning to Ithaca, all right; +but I had done no wandering, certainly; and there was no Penelope +weaving and waiting for me. That death shroud had been finished years +and years ago. + +There weren't many changes in the station, I noticed as I stepped from +the coach. There was a fresh coat of paint on the long row of wooden +freight warehouses; and the bricks of the waiting-room had lately been +sandblasted; but that was all. + +I walked up State Street toward the center of town. Ithaca had grown. +On many blocks which, in my time, had been devoted to homes, were +stores. Of course, many of the older markets and shops were familiar to +me, but State Street, as a whole, was disappointing. + +Ahead of me stretched the main thoroughfare, bordered on either side +by restaurants, two motion-picture palaces and department stores. Only +when it curved sharply up the hill toward the Cornell campus, was it +familiar. There, scattered beyond the few garage buildings, were houses +I knew. People I had once known lived in them.... But no. Probably not +any more. More likely they had retreated before the expanding business +area to the still lovely portions over-looking the lake. + +As I neared the corner where my store had been, I felt a stranger, +excommunicated, forgotten. The faces milling around me, going in and +out of the markets, were strange faces, and somehow I imagined that +they looked at me aggressively. I went along, half-expecting at any +moment that someone would recognize me and call out my name. But no one +did. + +It was then that I clumsily stumbled over a little boy who was +squatting at the curb, rolling some toy or other near the edge of +the sidewalk. I picked him up, made certain that he was unhurt, and +assisted him in dusting off his sailor suit. + +"You owe me a soda!" the child shrilled pompously. "You knocked me down +and now you'll have to treat me, mister." + +I patted him on the head and started to walk away. The little fellow +followed me closely. "Pay up or go to jail," he declared. + +"All right," I said quickly. "Come along." + +I took him by the hand and continued toward the store. Its +metamorphosis was complete. The front of the building was a solid +mass of show-window, in which were neatly arranged books, perfumery, +tobacco-humidors, soap and cameras. Placards announced "special" +luncheons, sales on toilet articles and giant malted milks. In one +corner of the window, unobtrusively printed on a little cardboard cut +in the shape of a mortar and pestle, were the words: "Prescriptions +Filled By Experts." A huge neon sign above the show-window kept +spelling out: + + THE GREAT EASTERN + DRUG COMPANY + +"You can get swell ones in here for a dime, mister," the little fellow +told me as he drew me up to the expensive black and silver soda +fountain. "I'll take a frosted chocolate," he commanded the youth in +the neat white jacket who came to wait on us. "And don't be stingy with +the whipped cream!" + +The clerk grinned and then turned to me. "And what will you have, sir?" + +"Me? Oh, I don't care for anything, thanks." As the young man started +away, glass in hand, I called him back. "Is there anyone here who can +tell me where I'd be likely to find a party named Tom Murphy?" + +"You mean Mr. Murphy, our store manager? You'll find him at the +prescription counter in the back. The crippled gentleman with the dark +moustache." + +I followed his finger and immediately recognized my former assistant. +This _was_ a stroke of luck. It had been a long-shot, my asking for +him. I had had no idea he worked there. + +"Here's the money for the soda," I told my diminutive companion. "I've +got to see someone." I slid a quarter along the counter and made my way +to the back of the store. I heard the child's words of thanks, muffled +by his noisy sipping at a soda straw. + +Tom Murphy did not look up as I approached. He was busy checking over +some figures on a sheet of wrapping paper. The only radical change in +his appearance was the moustache which, obviously, he had cultivated +to lend him a professional air. He looked much older, naturally. When +he had worked for me he had been only seventeen. That would make him +thirty-five. + +"Hello, Tom," I said quietly. + +Slowly Murphy lifted his eyes from the paper to a level with mine. He +frowned a little and I could tell that he did not know who I was. "You +are acquainted with me?" + +I laughed. "Tell me you don't know!" + +"Can't say I do. But your voice sounds...." He stopped suddenly and +leaned forward to inspect me more closely. Recognition dawned and the +pencil dropped from his fingers. "Why ... why ... Mr. Thatcher! I ... +I...." + +I am positive that it was fear I read in his eyes although I can't +imagine why he should have been afraid. We had always been the best of +friends. Maybe he felt as though he were standing face to face with +some ghost; but more likely he suddenly remembered what it was I was +supposed to have done. Murder is a terrible crime and the people who +commit it are not looked upon as human beings--no matter how much their +action might have been justified. The taking of a life--unless it be +during wartime, making the deed not only legal but noble as well--is +an action which at once destroys both friendships and hates. People +neither love nor hate murderers. They don't even feel sorry for them. +They treat them much like Murphy treated me that day in the store. Like +a freak. + +I smiled disarmingly. "That's right, Tom. I guess I've changed a lot. +I'm getting on in years, you know. But can I have a word with you?" + +His lips trembled a little. "But ... but I thought that.... When +did...?" + +"This morning, Tom. I've finished down there." + +"Come on into the back room." + +I knew that he was reluctant to leave the front of the store. Maybe he +was afraid to be alone with me, I don't know. If this were happening +to me now instead of a few weeks ago, I wouldn't be at all surprised. +Seeing the crude pictures of myself in the newspapers, I suppose I _do_ +look "haunted." But I vigorously deny the press insinuations that I +have a criminal face, merciless eyes and an unmistakable brutish skull +formation. The prison experts all agreed that I look somewhat weak with +my oval-shaped head and pointed chin. + +The thing I wanted to find out from Murphy was if there remained anyone +in town who had known Anita. I explained to him that I was trying to +find out more about the whole affair. Murphy puckered his brows in +thought. "Let me see, George Garrett!" + +"Garrett? Never heard of him." + +"Oh, yes. That's right. He moved here right after...." He stopped in +embarrassment. "Say, Mr. Thatcher, I hope you know that I never wanted +to testify against you at the trial. They made me do it. I...." + +"I know, Tom. You couldn't help it," I said. + +"And I never really believed you did it," he went on, trying to appear +convinced. "I always thought she committed suicide. But maybe you'd +rather not talk about it, eh?" + +"No, that's all right. I want to talk about it. I suppose everyone in +town thought I was guilty, didn't they? Things looked kind of bad, I'll +admit." + +"No, we never believed it, Mr. Thatcher. Honest we didn't. Even +Cavender who used to be across the street said you got a raw deal. +And you know how Cavender was. Even Leo Carpenter said you were +innocent...." + +"Carpenter?" I echoed. "When did you see him? I thought he went to +Vienna." + +"Oh, he was at the trial. Didn't you know?" + +"No," I muttered. "I didn't." + +"Well, maybe he was only there that one day. He left for abroad shortly +after. He's writing books now, you know. Lives in New York six months a +year and in Vienna the rest of the time. Doctor Fraser--you don't know +him--says that his surgical data is very valuable." + +"I heard he was writing books," I said. + +"Funny you didn't know he was at the trial. I saw him right after they +brought in the verdict." + +To this day, I don't know why I pursued the subject. Something drove +me on--a curiosity maybe, a desire to discover just what attitude a +man would take whose former sweetheart has been allegedly slain by his +rival. "What did Leo have to say?" + +"He looked angry as the devil. He was cursing, as I remember. I heard +him say to someone who was with him that he was positive they were +convicting an innocent man." + +"He said that?" I asked in disbelief. Although the doctor and I had +never been anything but friendly to one another, it seemed strange +that he should adopt that attitude after I had stolen his girl. There +was something fishy about it. + +"Is that all?" + +Murphy scratched his head. "Yes, I guess so. The fellow who was with +him tried to comfort him, I recollect. He said that you'd never see the +inside of a jail; that your lawyer was sure to appeal and the decision +would be reversed. The man said, 'Of course, if they find the body ... +in that case it might be different.' Leo was getting into his car then. +He said something that sounded like: 'They'll never find the body' +and drove off, leaving the man standing there. That's all I know Mr. +Thatcher." + +"Thanks a lot." + +"Can I do anything more for you? You know that if I can be of some...." + +"No, I guess that's about all. Goodbye, Tom." + +"Going to be around town again?" + +"No, I guess not. But who knows?" We walked back into the store proper. +I shook hands with Murphy and noticed that his hand was cold and his +grip limp. + +Before I left Ithaca on the evening train for New York, I strolled +around to my little house ... or what used to be my house. From a +distance it still looked the same as I had left it; but when I reached +the gate to the front yard I felt my heart sink. There was a noticeable +sag to the roof as though the supporting beams had been allowed to +rot away. The paint on both the picket fence and on the house itself +had peeled off, leaving bare, ugly patches. And it was unoccupied. A +chipped enamel sign informed the passerby that the property was for +sale or rent and that information regarding it could be obtained by +telephoning the Mervin Real Estate Company. + +It had been my thought to enter the place, asking permission of the +owner in the event that someone was living in it. I would have liked +to explore the house in hopes of stirring from my fading memory some +dormant fact which had escaped notice. Then too, I would have welcomed +an hour in the garden down by the lake. + +But looking at it a moment longer, I suddenly felt sick. My store, like +some fickle child, no longer knew its parent. My house, my wife, my +friends were all gone, breaking the last connecting link with the town +of my birth. + +I withdrew the hand I had reached out to unfasten the gate. I turned +back toward the station. + + * * * * * + +I will not mention where I got the gun because the pawnbroker who sold +it to me was breaking the law and I don't want anyone to get into +trouble on my account. My purpose in purchasing the pistol, I need +hardly say, was to take yet one more life: my own. + +There are some of you who hold that suicide takes a great deal of +courage and some to whom it appears a very cowardly act. I am not in a +position to argue the point. I merely tell you that I no longer cared +to live and the sooner I ceased living the better I would like it. + +But I did not sit down and brood like some twentieth century Hamlet. I +did not over-dramatize my plight. I only realized that I was unhappy, +broke, without friends or family, and with nothing whatever to look +forward to but continued mental depression. I had read that ex-convicts +find it extremely difficult to find positions and, although I was +a registered pharmacist, I had no references to show a prospective +employer. + +So what else was there for me to do? + +If I'd been young, I would no doubt have tried to hold on. When I +was twenty, life was precious and I thoroughly enjoyed being alive. +But remember that upon my release from prison I had just passed my +forty-sixth birthday. You will recall the day, for that was the night +of the Hindenburg disaster. + +I had given considerable thought to the subject of a suitable agent +which would bring about my end. I did not want to suffer if I could +possibly avoid it. I suppose that I could easily have managed to obtain +some sort of poison but I ruled this out immediately. Only a physician +or an apothecary can appreciate how terrible a death by poison can +be. Of course there are any number of mythical concoctions which the +writers of detective stories profess will result in instantaneous +death. Well, maybe I'm wrong, but if such poisons exist or at least +are stocked in drugstores, I have never handled any. The poisonous +substances I have come into contact with in my work all entail a +minimum of several minutes of intense pain while the drug stops the +heart or eats away the organs of the body. + +So I chose a gun. + +I decided this while sitting in my tiny hotel room, just off Times +Square. Looking around at the bare, cracked walls, the peeling plaster +and the single, dirty window, it struck me that this was as fitting +a room for a suicide as one would be able to find. Still, I would +be unable to use it. Since I would, of necessity, have to procure a +pistol, I would hardly have enough money left to stay there another +night. I would have to die in the park, or in some alleyway. + +It was while I sat in that room, pondering the problem of where I might +be able to get hold of a gun, that someone knocked on my door. I opened +it and a girl stepped in, closing the door behind her. I gaped at her. + +"Hello," she smiled. + +"Hello," I answered her. "You must have the wrong room." I saw that she +was well dressed and with a supple figure; her face, while not pretty, +was pleasant and carefully made-up. "This is Room 264, you know." + +"I know," she laughed, revealing white, though slightly crooked teeth. +"Well? Aren't you going to ask me to come in?" + +"You're in already," I observed. Then, for the first time in months, I +felt the need of her--the need of any woman. Usually, in prison, this +would sweep over me only once in a great while. It would last less than +a week and then it would pass on, leaving me enervated. But now my +fingers yearned for the feel of her and my knees grew unsteady. "Will +you smoke a cigarette?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even. + +She accepted one. My hand shook a little as I held the match. Puffing +away, she sat down on the bed, close to my chair. I could smell her +perfume and the faint female odor of her clothes. My head swam. + +Of course I knew that she was a prostitute. Her presence in my room +was merely an effort to solicit trade. But she was a woman. Mentally, +I counted up my money. No, there would not be enough for this. The +remaining few dollars would barely buy me a gun. I balanced the gun +against the woman. I chose the gun. + +"I like you," she murmured after a moment of silence. "But that, as +Shakespeare says, is not the question. Do you like me?" + +"I'm ... I'm broke," I stammered. + +Her face fell a little. "Well, I didn't expect to find Rockefeller in +here, you know. I don't ask much...." + +"I'm sorry. I haven't a penny to spare. I won't have this room +tomorrow," I confessed. + +The girl rose from the bed abruptly and started for the door. In +desperation, I got to it first and put my back to it. "Please don't +go," I begged. "If you only knew how much I want you to stay!" + +"Sorry, buddy. I'm no charity worker. You've got to lay it on the line." + +"Listen," I whispered hoarsely. "Don't you see? I haven't had ... +haven't had a woman in eighteen years!" + +She looked at me skeptically for a second; then a curiosity came into +her eyes. "What were you, mister?" she asked. "Priest, prisoner or +pauper?" + +I told her. + +"I've got a brother in stir. All right. I'm a sap for falling for your +baloney. But make it fast." + +"Thanks," I groaned, taking her into my arms. + +"Hurry up." + + * * * * * + +In the morning I looked up Doctor Carpenter in the telephone directory. +I located a CARPENTER L. MD with an East 70th street address and I +called the number to ask the party's first name. It was Leo all right +but he wasn't at home. The girl--informing me that she was the doctor's +secretary--instructed me to call again at three o'clock. When she asked +me to please leave my name, I hung up. I was afraid that Carpenter +might not want to see me. + +Thoroughly worn out, I walked along Eighth Avenue looking for a pawn +shop. Two places, when I entered and asked to see a revolver, demanded +that I produce my police permit; but in the third, the old fellow +beckoned to me to follow him to the rear. He sold me an old .38 Colt +automatic for six dollars and threw in a box of fifty cartridges to +boot. + +"Now remember, mister, I never sold you that gun, see? You never saw me +before in all your life." + +"I never saw you before in all my life," I assured him. "And thanks +loads. I won't forget it in a hurry." + +The old fellow threw up his hands. "Forget it! Forget it! Never mind +remembering!" + +Emerging from the shop with the pistol in my pocket, I found that I +still had four hours to kill before the doctor would be in. I wanted +to see him before I took the fatal plunge because there was ever so +faint a chance that he might know something which would throw light +onto Anita's death. Tom Murphy was not a person either to imagine or to +exaggerate. If he was telling the truth, there might be some reason +why Carpenter insisted that I was innocent. His remark, "They'll never +find the body," might have meant no more than a disdainful opinion of +the police.... But it was worth trying. + +I don't think that I would have considered suicide had I in some way +managed to solve the question that had been worrying my mind for so +many years. Even if I had discovered myself guilty. For if I _had_ +murdered Anita, it must have been done in a moment of insanity, during +which time I could not hold myself responsible for the deed. I loved +my wife. I had had nothing whatever to gain by her death. I had not +insured her life. I told the insurance agents who had called this to my +attention that, in the event of Anita's death, no amount of money could +possibly compensate me for her loss. + +I spent the next three hours in a movie, trying my utmost to stay +awake. I no longer had enough for a hotel room, having given all but a +dollar of the money remaining for the gun. Although sleep would have +been welcome to me after the adventure of the night before, I reasoned +that if I dozed off, I might not awaken in time to see the doctor. If I +missed him at his home, it would mean a night of wandering the streets, +of dozing in subways or sleeping in the park. Hence, I stayed awake by +prodding myself each time my head drooped forward onto my chest. Also, +I am afraid that I made a nuisance of myself by asking someone next to +me the time every now and then. + +Doctor Carpenter had an apartment in a neat, two-family brownstone +house between Park and Lexington. Entering the tiny vestibule on the +ground floor, I saw his name on a little white card under a brass bell. +I rang and in a few seconds, a uniformed maid ushered me into a foyer. + +"Is Doctor Carpenter at home?" + +"Is he expecting you?" + +I admitted that he was not. + +"Then it won't be possible for the doctor to see you today. He's very +busy in the study and left word that he was not to be disturbed. Why +don't you telephone him tomorrow morning and make an appointment?" The +maid was young and smiled pleasantly. + +"But I'm a personal friend of the doctor's. I've.... I've just come in +from out of town and...." + +"Oh, I see. Well, in that case, if you'll give me your name, I'll take +it in to...." She interrupted herself suddenly and bowed to someone +over my shoulder. I turned and saw a woman entering the front door. +"Good afternoon, Mrs. Carpenter. The man called about the rugs. I told +him to call later." + +The woman was veiled so that as she brushed past me, I could not see +her face. "Thank you, Lily. Is the doctor in the study?" + +"Yes, he is, Mrs. Carpenter. Mr. Miller just left." + +The woman opened the door at the far end of the living-room and went +inside. As in a trance, I moved after her. In my ears I could hear +Lily's voice call sharply: "You can't go in there!" but I did not stop. +The floor of the living-room was waxed and slippery and one of the +smaller scatter rugs shot out under my feet. I recovered my balance +and, as I was opening the door of the study, I felt the maid's arm +touch my sleeve. I shook it off and entered the room. + +Doctor Carpenter was seated at a large desk near a French door that +led out into a sort of garden or yard. He had his arm about the waist +of the woman who stood beside his chair. For a moment, as the sunlight +glared in my eyes, I could not make out anything more than the two +silhouettes. Then ... I knew. + +Both of them looked up as the door clicked shut behind me. They had +been talking; now they fell silent. The doctor slowly rose to his feet +and Anita--for I was sure it was she--started back and stifled a little +cry of fear. + +"Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter," I said. + +Just then the maid opened the door and looked toward the doctor for +instructions. I saw him hesitate. I knew, of course, that he did not +wish to be left with me and he opened his mouth to say something. Then +he closed it and his shoulders sagged perceptibly. In this attitude, he +looked old and I noticed that his hair was iron-gray. + +"It's all right, Lily. We don't want to be disturbed." The doctor's +voice sounded hollow and dry. He seemed to be choking, almost. + +"But the man about the rugs. What will I tell him when he calls?" + +"Tell him ... tell him anything. And if anyone comes, have them wait +outside." + +"Yes, doctor." + +As the maid closed the door behind her, I looked over at Anita. Somehow +I couldn't get used to the idea that she was really there. It was +like seeing a ghost in broad daylight. But it was the spectre who was +afraid. Through her veil I could see wide, terror-stricken eyes. + + * * * * * + +I suppose that this story I am telling is disappointing because I am +incapable of detailing or classifying my emotions. I do not think that +this is my fault so much as it is the fault of the emotions. During the +tense portions of my life they were never clearly defined and often +I experienced many freakish feelings: combinations of two or three +emotions at once. So far, I have given you only bare facts and left +you to imagine the gamut I have run. Sorrow, fear, love and morbidity +have all played important parts in my life. But--whether you choose to +accept this statement or not--although I have often been very angry, I +can't remember ever having hated anyone. And as I stood there in the +study, looking across the room at the two by the desk, I did not nurse +any hatred. + +Of course I know that it sounds a bit thick. I certainly had every +reason to hate them both, and the much-publicized fact that my pocket +contained a loaded revolver seems to indicate that I went to the +doctor's home prepared to commit a murder. Truthfully, I did not. The +revolver, as I have already explained, was intended only for myself. + +Well, if the doctor and Anita looked frightened and ashamed, I must +have looked bewildered. Try to picture it for yourselves. Here was my +wife ... alive! For the past eighteen years I had been mourning her +loss. I had over-taxed my mind in attempting to pierce the heavy cloak +of mystery which had surrounded her death. + +I didn't know what to think. Such a climax could not happen in real +life! We were not characters in a book or in the movies! But, after +the first shock of hearing her voice, I felt a great load lifted from +my shoulders. The knowledge that I had not killed her was evidently +the panacea for all my suffering. Soon, however, I began to recover my +stunned faculties; I began to wonder.... + +She had been called, "Mrs. Carpenter" by the maid. Since she wasn't +dead, where had she been? Why hadn't she come forward at the time I was +arrested? + +I was totally confused as I faced the two of them on that afternoon +of September 9th. So stupefied was I, it was not until Anita began +to plead with me and to pour out a tearful confession that I fully +realized what a contemptible trick had been played upon me. I stood +there stiffly as she tugged at my coat lapels and the picture became +clearer gradually. I could see her sitting in the garden that evening +many years ago. She was furious because she wanted me to sell the +store and move to New York--which wish I had refused.... + +"Oh, don't you understand, Peter? I've always been in love with Leo! I +married you, yes. I know I shouldn't have done it. But you caught me at +a time when I was too angry at him to think! I liked you, Peter. Please +believe that! Yes, I did like you a lot. But was it my fault that I +never loved you?" + +I glanced quickly at the doctor. He was slumped over his desk with his +face buried in his hands. I could see the cords of his neck, thick and +tight, disappearing into his wilted shirt collar. Sheets of typewritten +manuscript had slipped to the floor unnoticed. I felt jealous of him; +then, suddenly, a wave of pity for him drove off the first. He, too, +must have suffered. He, too, must have been tortured mentally all those +years I wasted away in prison. It occurred to me that it had not been +his doing. _He_ had not wanted me to pay for a crime I never committed. +What he had been heard saying at the trial was proof of that. But +Anita.... + +"Peter, you must let me explain! You've always been fair and I know +you'll understand how I felt! I married you but I loved him." She +pointed to Carpenter's lowered head. "I just couldn't stand being away +from him. You know how that feels. You've been in love, haven't you?" + +"I loved you," I reminded her tonelessly. + +Yes, I had been in love with her, it was true. But she had died a +long time ago. Besides, she was not the same. Time and the knowledge +of her evil deed had aged her. There were gray threads mingling with +the blonde that the hair dye had missed; there were little crow's +feet at the corners of her eyes; she looked sallow, unhealthy, a lean +caricature of her former self. The only familiar part of her was her +voice. And that wasn't pretty either. How often had I heard her sob +before! + +"Now I can understand why you wanted to live in New York," I heard +myself say quietly. My ears were ringing and my voice had the curious +quality of seeming to come from a great distance. + +"No, no! You mustn't believe that! I swear to you that there was never +anything between Leo and me until after ... after...." + +"Until after I was convicted of killing you?" + +She dropped her eyes. "Please, Peter. Don't think that I planned that. +I never intended that you should.... Do you remember the sleeping +powder? Well, I meant to take it and I put it in my beer. But then I +felt like swimming--you know how I used to swim off my grouches--so I +drank what was in the other glass and I forgot to empty my own. I guess +you drank the beer with the powder in it." + +I said nothing. There was still a lot of explaining to be done. + +"Well, I cut my foot on the sharp stones down by the lake shore. You +know where I mean. You used to warn me about them. It was a bad gash +and it bled a lot. I hurried to the house to bandage it. You were +asleep, Peter. I guess it was the powder. I held an old dress to the +cut to keep the blood from getting on the rug. Oh, I shook you and +shook you but you wouldn't wake up! I wanted you to go for a doctor. I +was getting faint and I was bleeding all over the furniture. Some even +got on your clothes...." + +I still said nothing. Hearing her confession was like living a scene +from life I had missed. + +Anita went on breathlessly. Her words tumbled out so rapidly that at +times I could scarcely understand her. But I began to see her for the +first time. I began to realize that there is more to a woman than a +lovely exterior and that even a devil may wear wings. + +"At last I gave up and went into the kitchen. I knew that there were +no bandages in the medicine-chest upstairs, so I began to cut strips +from my dress to bind up my foot. Finally, I managed to fix it. That's +how the blood got on the knife! Oh, Peter, I didn't have any idea what +would happen when I left you that night! Really, I didn't. I was so +angry at you for being so stubborn and I missed Leo and.... Oh, can't +you understand?" + +She was bordering on the hysterical but I remained unmoved. Indeed, I +was surprised at my own objective attitude. In the past, Anita's tears +had never failed to impress me. Like a dog responding to his master's +whistle, I had come running at the first sob. But not so now. + +"Oh, I know I did a terrible thing when I didn't come forward at the +trial. But I was so sure you'd be freed. After the verdict I would have +come forward, Peter ... but I thought that if the case was appealed, +the decision would be reversed! How could you have murdered me? I +wasn't dead. Then, right afterwards, we sailed for Vienna." She paused +to catch her breath. "Then, too, I thought that you might interfere, +try to take me away from Leo!" + +I looked toward my wife's lover. He had not moved nor had he put in a +word. "How did the lamps get broken and the table overturned?" I asked. + +She acted as though she hadn't heard me ... but I knew she had. "Oh, +please forgive me!" she wept. "It's all over now! If I had even dreamed +that leaving you would have brought all this!" + +"How did the lamps get broken and the table overturned?" + +"Peter, tell me you forgive me! It was all a mistake, I tell you! O, +God, I know I've done a terrible thing! If only I.... Will you, Peter?" + +I looked her squarely in the eyes. They were very dark blue now--almost +coal-black in the pupils like a sick animal's. No matter what the world +may think and no matter what the psychologists theorize, in that moment +I was saner than I had ever been before. No dramatic haze came before +my eyes; no fit of anger lashed me to a fury. So calm was I, that she +never saw me take the pistol from my pocket. I held her gaze and my +eyes did not give me away. + +"I forgive you, Anita," I said. + +Then I pressed the trigger. + +With the sound of the shot which echoed and re-echoed through the +house, the doctor sprang to his feet. His eyes were almost popping from +his head as he watched Anita slip to her knees and then drop limply to +the floor. + +"My God!" he moaned. + +I can't remember much more than just that. Faintly, I recollect hearing +the sound of feet running toward the room and the crash of the door +being flung open. Also, I was conscious that there were many people +pressing around me until I felt suffocated. But everything else is +vague. Maybe the shell-shock malady came back for a spell. + +Later on, I became aware of myself while riding down to police +headquarters in a Squad car, flanked on either side by a burly +plainclothesman. They did not seem to be paying much attention to me +for they were talking among themselves as though I wasn't there. + +"Right through the heart. He sure must have been close, too. Her dress +was burned." + +"Yeah. I wonder why he croaked her?" + +"Oh, we'll get it out of him down at headquarters." + +"Don't be so sure. I think he's a nut. If he ain't, he'll play like he +is. Christ, I'm ready to believe he is, right now! Who the hell ever +heard of knockin' anybody off before witnesses in the dame's own house?" + +"Good lookin' babe, too." + +"Naw. She was old." + +"Well, we'll get a chance at this guy after the line-up." + +The driver of the car, evidently having seen my face in his rear-view +mirror, called back over his shoulder. "Hey, boys. The guy's all right +now." + +With that, the detectives turned to me at once. One on either side, +they started to fire many questions. "Why did you kill her, Johnny?" +"Was that your rod we found on the floor?" "What's your name, anyway?" +"What was the exact time you did it?" "Where do you live?" "Ain't I +seen you some place before?" + +"Yes," I answered, "I killed her. Only not then." + +"Not then?" they chorused. "What do you mean by 'not then'?" + +"I killed her, yes. But that woman has been dead for eighteen years." + +They both stared at me for a minute. Then one of the cops described a +circle about his ear with one finger. The other one nodded his head +significantly. + + * * * * * + +Dig out your law books, all you students, all you judges, all you +members of the bar. Dust off _Corpus Juris_ and Blackstone and Wharton +and the Constitution; try, if you can, to convict me. On the surface, +it looks simple enough. Here I am, an ex-convict with a record of +eighteen years in the penitentiary, and I have just shot down a woman +in cold blood. Yes, it was in cold blood. I wasn't angry at her any +more than I was angry at that German boy I killed back in 1918. + +Come on all you prosecutors! My painfully young, court-appointed +counsel challenges the world! His briefcase is empty but for three +little slips of paper which, he claims, are enough to break any case +against me. Maybe he is right. Who knows? Well, whatever happens, it no +longer matters to me. Remember that only yesterday I intended to commit +suicide? If the case is lost you will only be doing the job for me. + +The District Attorney laughed at me when he visited me in jail the +other morning. But I think he was rather worried. He secured the +indictment easily enough ... although it might not have been so easy +had my lawyer's plea to go before the Grand Jury been granted. + +"You'll get the Chair, Thatcher," he threatened. "Better let me have +your confession and I'll see what I can do about getting you off with a +prison sentence. I can recommend leniency, you know." + +"Oh, I did it, Mr. District Attorney. Why should I deny it?" + +"Then you are not going to plead insanity?" + +"I don't know what my lawyer is going to do." + +"It'll be easier on you if...." + +"See my lawyer." + +I was really quite calm throughout all the days of questioning and +interviews. I imagine that all the rigamarole I was--and still +am--being forced through would be a great strain on a person. It was +not much of a strain on me. I had been through it before; and while my +first trial had me trembling and biting my nails down to the quick, +this one lacked the resulting tension. It reminded me of the pinochle +games I used to have with Mullins and Carter and the Sarge when we +were all of us broke and without a sou and had to play for no stakes. + +I have a late edition of a paper in front of me with my picture on the +very first page. It isn't a very complimentary study of me for, you +see, it was taken by a persistent staff photographer ... through the +bars. But, if I do not appreciate the picture, the article accompanying +it highly amuses me. The lead line reads: "While the alleged slayer +of pretty Anita Thatcher paces the floor of his cell in the Tombs, +brooding over the blood he is charged to have spilled, preparations are +being made for the burial of his victim tomorrow afternoon...." + +Brooding? What an imagination! I am not at all sorry that I killed +Anita. Should I be? Except that I was born a fool, I have her to blame +for what I have become. + +In the courtroom this morning, the prosecution trotted out a score of +witnesses in short order. By their testimony they placed me in the room +where the crime was committed and at the time specified. This time, of +course, the _corpus delicti_ was established and the jury learned that +I was seen committing the crime by one witness and found with the gun +in my hand by others. + +The District Attorney opened the case with a short speech that went +something like this: "I have never seen a more open and shut case of +murder in the first degree. We have everything--weapon, eye-witnesses +and motive. It will be proved in this courtroom that the Defendant +shot and killed his ex-wife because he was jealous of her marriage to +one of the principals in the case. We will show you that the crime was +premeditated, that the Defendant came to the apartment of the deceased +woman with a gun in his pocket for the express purpose of carrying out +his infamous plan of murder. We will prove to you, by means of expert +testimony, that the bullet which ended the life of the deceased came +from the gun belonging to the Defendant. After you have heard all the +evidence in the case, there will remain to you only one alternative ... +to return a verdict of Guilty." + +When the District Attorney had finished, my lawyer got to his feet +and said: "The Defense has nothing it would like to say at this time." +His immature voice rising in the court caused a titter of mirth to +circulate. Even His Honor concealed a smile as he rapped for order. + +Then came the parade of witnesses, one by one. I recognized a chauffeur +who had been parked before the doctor's door; the doorman from the +building across the street; and a salesman who had happened to be +passing as I entered the house. I heard Lily Pierce, the Carpenter's +maid, testify.... + +"Then he followed Mrs. Carpenter toward the study. I ran after him and +said that he had no right to go in there. He didn't listen to me. He +pushed me away and slammed the door in my face." + +"Did you go in after him?" + +"Yes, sir, I did. But when I got inside, the doctor told me that it was +all right and not to disturb him." + +"I see. Tell the court, Miss Pierce. Did the doctor act as usual? Or +did he appear nervous, excited, frightened?" + +"Well, he didn't seem quite himself." + +After many more questions, the State turned the witness over to my +attorney for cross-examination. "No questions!" sang out the youth. + +As Leo Carpenter, pale and haggard, took the stand, my lawyer leaned +over and whispered to me: "You've noticed that I haven't cross-examined +any of the witnesses. But there's one fellow I may have to. I've got to +establish the identity of the deceased, you know." + +"Doctor Carpenter," the District Attorney was saying. "You saw the +crime being committed?" + +"Yes. I was there in the room," he replied. As he said this, our +eyes met across the courtroom. I am sure that there was sympathy and +understanding in his and the reluctant manner in which he testified on +the stand seems to bear me out in this theory. Perhaps he felt that I +had only taken just redress for my injuries by killing Anita. + +When the State had finished with the witness, my own counsel approached +him. The prosecution rested. + +"Doctor Carpenter, what relation were you to the deceased woman?" + +He hesitated for a brief moment. "No relation whatever," he admitted. +"Anita was Mrs. Peter Thatcher." + +I heard a murmur of surprise in the court and a few newspaper reporters +tried to leave in search of telephones. Over the noise, I heard the +next question. + +"You were not the husband of the deceased?" + +"No, I was not." + +"In all the eighteen years you had been living together as man and wife +you never married her?" + +"No. How could I? She was Mrs. Peter Thatcher." + +"She was the same woman who was known to you as Anita Thatcher back in +the year 1919?" + +"She is ... she was." + +"Very well. That is all. Will the State allow the identification of the +deceased or shall I call more witnesses as part of the Defense?" + +"The State allows the identification." + +There was a two-hour adjournment for lunch, following which the Defense +resumed the floor. "Your Honor," called my boy gladiator, "I have here +three papers that I wish to offer in evidence. The first of these is +an indictment dated in the year 1919 which states that the Defendant, +Peter Thatcher, may be remanded to a court for trial on a charge of +murder in the first degree. The victim's name: Anita Thatcher! The +second of the papers is a certificate of conviction from the Tompkins +County Court, Judge Foley presiding. It states that in the same year +Peter Thatcher was convicted on a charge of first degree manslaughter +for the killing of the same woman. The third paper is an affidavit from +the Warden of the State Penitentiary at Ossining to the effect that +Peter Thatcher, sentenced by the forementioned court, did serve the +time specified and was formally released after having been imprisoned +for eighteen years. + +"Your Honor, under Article I, Section 6 of the Constitution of this +State which says, in part: 'No person shall be subject to be twice put +in jeopardy for the same offence,' I demand that the Court instruct +the jury to return a verdict of Not Guilty for the Defendant. According +to the law, the deceased was killed by the Defendant once already; and +he was convicted and sentenced and paid the penalty for the crime by a +prison term which lasted from 1919 up until the present year. + +"The Defendant committed a legal murder. Or, have it this way, if you +like. The Defendant, instead of committing the crime and paying the +penalty, paid the penalty and then committed the crime. He cannot be +tried on those charges again. In conclusion, I do not ask for clemency +for the Defendant. I ask Justice!" + +As I write this final portion of my story, which I trust has explained +those features which the press have distorted, I cannot refrain from +smiling a little. His Honor wore such a woe-begone look of bewilderment +when my lawyer passed the certificates to the stenographer with a +dramatic flourish! + +"Let me see those papers, please," the judge demanded. The stenographer +quickly handed them up to him. His Honor changed his glasses and, as +he read them through, an unusual stillness pervaded the room. Really, I +believe that of all the people who were crowded into the court, I was +the only person who was not holding his breath. + +Finally, after what appeared to be an eternity, the judge looked up. He +cleared his throat several times, fiddled with his glasses, and then +looked over toward the prosecution's table. + +"Well, Mr. District Attorney," he said with a puzzled frown wrinkling +his forehead, "what have you to say to that?" + + * * * * * + +As yet there has been no decision forthcoming. I know that the +prosecution is tearing its collective hair, trying to find some way +to get a conviction. My own lawyer is completely at ease. He left +this morning for a few weeks of fishing in Maine, promising me that +if decision is reserved too long, he'll apply for a writ of _habeas +corpus_. + +But I am not impatient to be free. There still remains the problem of +where to go. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79047 *** |