Rock Island daily Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1886-1893, 1891-02-06

umn for Mr.. RedStOck was a we'll known
man, and his death was strau pe. sad
tragedy, over which the reporter fondlv
fingered lie had gone to his off ca. so it
wa. stated, on the evening previous with
ths e.esgn of making up some arrears of
correspondence. In tossing the papers in
bis desk about he had come upon A re-
volver, which he had picked up and started
30 load. Through some careless ness on
his part the weapon was fired while pointed
at his breast, and the shot had proved NOR
tai. The report was heard by several per
sons in the building, and forcing the door
they found table,su which told the entire
story as plainly as though each act had
been witnessed and recorded On the desk
were letters laid out to be answered.
Drawers were open and papers scattered
about, showing That he had been IN search
Of some document when he happened upon
the weapon. In the center of the desk was
box of cartridges and the pistol ramrod
and cleaner, and near the feet of the dead
man lay the weapon, four chambe IS empty,
one loaded and one filled with o she'll
The discovery was made at IL o'clock in
the evening.
VI hen lie reached the end of the nara
tive Mostyn laid down the paper nd stared
at the wall. lie was ddzed for the moment
ana could not m&A2 an effort to accommo-
cate the facts that he had just read with
what he had known before. At last it be-
came clear TO him, for one thing that Red
stock was dead, and he heaved a long sigh
of relief
That danger was passed.
Was it an accident? he asked himself:
or was it not more likely suicide, with
this arrangement of things about the desk
cunningly designed for the purpose of
throwing off suspicion? Well, what did it
matter? Mostyn's secret was safe.
Safe he muttered; "safe-res-but
hold!-the people at the house-they heard
him cry out TO me from the stleet--must
have heard it-why, that can't he-let me
see-ll o'clOck?-but it was O'Clock when
he called TO me-dead at Ill know it was
3-yes, and later it was 5-the second time
-Impossible-there is some mist-.ke-the
paper Is wrOnG-no, | am wrong-but |
certainly heard its o'clock-11 O'CLOCK
why, that is five hours-yes, five hours"
Repeating it over and over did not make
II any clearer. In the end the only conclu-
sion which MOstyn reached was that some
thing was wrong-and this meant nothing
at all
As he was ostensibly one of he nearest
that lac should make inquiries about the
accident. \ small amount of investiga-
ton satisfied him, beyond all doubt, that
Basil RedSjOck had shot himself intention
ally, and also that he was dead by IL
O'clock in the evening.
But that was before | went to bed ~
thought Mostyn.
That evening he expected to hear his fell
low boarders refer to the strange noises of
the night before; but no one spoke of them.
Then MoStyn himself told about Il drunken
man who was crying out in front of the
house-abOut o'clock in the morning, and
surprise was manifested by his listeners.
None of them had heard sound.
Having had no sleep in thirty-six hours.
Edgar Mostyn was inclined to retire early.
lie went To his room at Q O'Clock, and as q
preliminary of undressing took the revolv-
er out of his pocket and put it away in the
desk. The act brought back to his mind
the singular half dreams of the previous
night, when he had repeatedly seen him
self shot and felt himself ling After
he got into bed, in the dark and stiffness,
the weird and awful panorama began once
more TO whirl past his tightly closed eyes.
In vain he tried to drive it away. There
was always the same scene-varying in de
ments-Basil Redstock aiming the weapon.
firing, and MOstyn falling.
AT last, in spite of it all, he was becom-
ing drowsy, and almost ready to sleep.
"MOstyn! Coward! Come out and be
shotr'
There it was again-loud and clear, al
most shrek. 1t came from the middle
of the street and was the voice-yes, plain
ly the vOice-of Basil Redstock Why, he
was deadl But this was his voice What
did it mean? A dream? A hoax. Or mad
nesss
Before Mostyn knew what he did ne
stood by the window looking into the
street. There was no one to be seen. He
shivered and turned back toward the bed
room
Then ne heard noise of talking in the
nall just outside his door Plainly this
time the cry had reused the house, and he
hurriediy slipped on a dressing gown to be
ready should any one enter the room.
No one came. Presently be opened the
door and looked out. Two men stood at
the front end of the hall in the large bay
window which overhung the street. They
were fellow dodgers of Mostyn, and thew
were converslnS with appare ut unconcerp.
Did you hear it?" asked Mostyn.
rear WnaC! SaIu one OF 5he men,
''The-the crazy man yelling in the
street,
Not a sound"
"How long have you been standing herer'
"Ten-fifteen minutes"
Mostyn noticed that one of the windows
was open. How was it possible that the
cry should have penetrated to his bed
room, to rouse him-haH asleep-and yet
be unnoticed by these men standing by
the open window?
As he turned this question over in bis
mind, gazing in dumb wonder at the man
who had last spoken, the words came again
to his startled ears. this time in a wild and
terrible yell:
'Mostyn! Coward! Come out and be
shot"
1t was such a cry as might have belched
from the jaws of some fierce animal that
had acquired the power of speech. 1t
seemed to echo and re-echo through all the
house. making the windows rattle and the
doors shake and Mostyn listened for an
answering uproar. He looked to see the
men at the window turn upon him with
horror in their faces, and demand to know