The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1890-10-05


at times gloomy during the day.
''Yes, go and have sharp walk" | said.
1T will do you good. when shall you be
back"
''Oh, before H. But send the servants to
bed, and go to bed yourself l can let my
self in"
NO | will wait for you. Twelve o'clock
is not late. You will find me here"
As the clock on the chimney piece struck
the last quarter before midnight, my hus-
band reappe,red in the library. was glad
to see that his walk had done him good. His
eyes were bright, his cheeks ruddy and he
looked cheerful and happy.
Where have you been?" asked.
"All over London, this side the Thames,
think. 1 must have done ten miles at the
very least. | shall sleep Tonight"
And he did-soundly.
The next days newspapers contained an
account of dreadful murder committed in
the east of London. Late on the night be-
fore the mangled body of a wretched woman
had been found in dark court, near busy
thoroughfare Besides its peculiar atrocity,
the crime was remarkable for the seeming
absence of motive on the part of the perpe-
traitor, and his ruthless audacity. Though
he must have destroyed his victim almost
in public no one had seen him, and the
police were completely at fault They even
failed to identity the murdered woman.
What do you think about it?" | asked
George. Can there be such thing as a
motiveless murder?"
Il think not, unless the murderer be
raving lunatic."
But in this case there was premedita-
ton"
obviously"
And reconciliation implies a certain de-
gree of sanity. But what | am at a loss to
understand is how any human beng can
overcome the natural horror of murder so
lar as to take fellow creatures life in cold
blood"
rs there any such natural horror? TAX
ing life is nothing when you get used to it."
Taking lie is nothing when you get used
to 1t! Good heavens, George, what do you
mean? You make my blood run cold"
"9ou misunderstood me, Myra. did not
mean-l was thinking of Africa, where the
horror which you think so natural is so ex-
ceptional that the life of human being is of
no more account than the life of a wild
animal. My remark was merely the state
ment OF a psychological fact"
~ wish you had not so stated it as to half
frighten lie tu DEATH" | said, shuddering.
gu spoke as If 1t were based on your own
peIS experience"
Yet, though | did my best to regard
George explanation as satisfactory, not all
my efforts could eiface TIL Impression left by
these words OF sinister import, Taking life
Is nothing when YOU get usei b. it, And in
spite OF myself the question would obtrtde
ltseif on my MUD, Were they not, after all,
DdHtu Oh pt ISUIdl experience
am now approaching part of nv con-
fe-Sion so painful ana terrible thlt cannot
dwell upon 1t. Let me hurry on to the fate
ful dsnuunient, COMPRISING into few lines
stnry which, were | only to describe
1.-THE OF The fearful suspicion that haunted
my mind and the anguish | endured and
have endured since, would fill a volume
My husbands first solitary walk was fol-
lowed 10y second and a third. They be-
came frequent Sometimes he made as many
as three nocturnal promenades in week,
always on the same preteXt, that he was
bilious ana needed exercise. Occasionally
he did not set out until nearly midnight, re-
turning more than once as late as 5 o'clock
Al length l began to entertain grave doubts
both as to his sincerity and his loyalty for it
seemed Incredible that his object on these
occasions was merely the pursuit of health
Meanwhile Tour more mysterious murders,
similar In almost every detail to the one |
have already described, had been committed
i'll the East End. The victim was always a
wretched woman, the locality always a court
or alley, and the murderer invariably es-
caped without leaving trace behind him.
1t was about a month after the last, or.
rather. the fourth, OF these murders that
resolved on the first opportunity to satisfy
my curiosity as to the purpose of my hus-
bands untimeiy walks by following him.
1t was desperate expedent, but was in a
desperate mood, and halt mad with jealousy
and suspense
The opportunity was not long tn coming.
A few nights later, shortly before 10 clock,
he rose suddenly from his chair and said he
was going for his constitutional.
Very WELL" l say coldly, 81 will wait
up for YOU"
And then. while he is upstairs changing
his evening dress, | make myself ready, put
on pair of thick boots, shabby old cloak
that had not worn for years, and a COM
mon bonnet with a thick veil. This done, |
plUself poisalasSIy o,f nd nit nm ha
opposite side of the street until George also
comes out wearing an Inverness cape, with
the collar turned up and SLOUGH hat.
He sets OF at brisk walk; l follow.
keeping him well in view but not so near as
to attract his attention. He takes turn,
leading toward New Oxford street. AT the
corner OF TOttenham Court road he gets on
the top of an omnibus. / so inside and take
ii seat near the door, feeling sure that even
though George sees me he will not recognize
me.
The omnibus goes eastward; its destina-
ton is the bank, and at the bank George
gets out. So do l. He goes up Lombard
street. follow hin. Where he goes next
am unable to say. The locality is strange to
me. The streets, dmly lighted and wind
ing between lofty warehouses and silent
offices, are well nigh deserted.
| am beginning to feel afraid. and ask
myself whether had net better turn back,
when George is accosted by disrepu-
ldDie Wohlail, WHO is sprung from L
don't know where. She has scarlet
feather in her hat, and wears yellow
bodice. | slip into the shadow of door
way and watch. George takes his left hand
from under his cape and gives her some
thing, probably coin. Then they 90 up a
dark passage, the woman leading the way.
Shall l follow them?" l ask myself, for
if the passage has another exit | shall lose
George entirely.
While am still debating the question in
my mind, and as the clock of neighborng
church strikes twelve, George returns
alone, and resumes his walk.
| feel that | have done him a cruel injus-
tice, that my jealousy has been as baseless
as the fabric of vision, and that his walks
have been taken, as he said, simply for ex-
ercise How good of him to relieve that
forlOrn woman and take her to her wretched
homel
Aud then, fearful lest George should reach
home before me, retrace my steps.
As hurry past gin palace tile flaring
gas-ights In the window show me that |
have just turned out of CroZier street. go
on without knowing WHITTIER for dare not
ask my way even OF the policemen, who, as
pass them, eye me suspiciOusly. At length
find myself in a broad thoroughfare and
hailing solitary hanson tell the driver
where to take me.
THAT is a long way lady," he says.
Never mind. | will pay you well. Drive
fast and you shall have a sovereign"
He does drive fast 1 am at my own door
in less time than | had thought possible.
| let myself in with my latch-key A
glance at the hat-stand shows me, to my
great relief, that l am in time. | take off
and put away my cloak and bonnet, 90 into
the library, and after turning up the gas
and lighting the asbestos fire, sit down with
book. Half an hour later the door opens
and George comes in, bright and cheerful,
as he always is after one of his long walks.
why are you not in bed?" he asks re-
proachfully. "These long vigils will make
you ill.,"
How could 60 without your 1t is both
my pleasure and my duty TO sit up tor YOU"
answer, putting my arms round his neck
and kissing him; for | feel that in being
Jealous and suspicious without cause |
! ~ !s!z!F5 4 . n r4i.,s
! s,A7fHldAT WIN,
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