The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1892-03-06
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY MARCH 6, 8s2TwELvE PAGES

OF the wicked cord-round, and round and
round. Never resting for a second, never
missing detail OF changing the order Of an
action
he reached Euston In the dark Of tbs
autumn morning and left the station unob-
se-ved. He walked through the lonely gas
liz streeets by the Pentonville road. past
the Angel, along Essex road, down the New
North road into Old street, and 80 on to
Shoreditch- He broke bis fast at an early
coffee stall and walked on unnoticed TO the
Eastern Counties railway station. There
he stood for a few minutes whilst a shoe
black cleaned his boots, which were heavy
with country soil Within the station he
bought daily paper, and In its columns he
looked unreasonably for some intelligence of
the murder. he knew very well how i'm
possible it was that any knowledge Of the
crime could as yet have reached London,
but IN spite of that be felt q certain disap-
pointment IN finding no allusion to il. All
the while without intermissicn his thoughts
Travelled the same intOlerable monotonous
circle. he was inexpressibly weary by this
time. but there was no escape for him.
He was in fair time for the parliamentary
train to Colchester, and taking a ticket
thither. was once more borne away. He
had travelling companion this time, an in
Offensive, quiet, elderly gentleman who
folded himself in q great number of wrap
pings and at once composed himself TO
his presence was burden hard to bear, for
1t imposed upon Hetheridge the necessity
Tor careful, constant watch upon himself
The anguish of that monotonous repetition In
his mind, the dreary Unsuitable horror Of il
so weighed upon him, that he could have
groaned aloud. He dreaded to reveal any
sign of his own mental state, and sat reso.
lutely still and silent, though at every repe-
tition of the deed his tired hands had
longing Of their own to clutch the cord and
draw 1t tight again.
The day broke desolately, with streaming
rain clouds on the horizon. The fiat fields
were everywhere sodden with recent rains
and the landscape was as mOnotonous as his
own solitary and ceaseless fancy. The train
seemed to crawl. and slough he was in no
hurry to reach his destination he was full of
an angry fmpatience at its slowness. His
bead was heavy and hot
with the fever of the sleepless
night. his eye-balls burned. and from head
to foot he ached with fatigue. Sleep was an
impossibility. There was no repentance or
beginning of repentance in his mind. No
regret, or shadow of regret, but hts crime
had sentenced him already to the en-
durance OF an unimaginable boredom.
AT half-past 10 O'Clock he reached his des-
tination for the time, and having washed
and breakfasted, went into the town. pur-
chased a hand bag and a small supply of
linen and underclothing. Next he hired
fly aud was driven to Wellsted, travelling
the dreary circle of his thoughts the while.
Alighting at the one respectable hotel of the
town he secured quarters for the night and
inquired the way TO the house OF the Rev.
Jordan Farrell. The landlord took him
into the street and pointed out the parson-
age, building Of mellow red brick stand
ing little back from the roadway. Heth-
eridge walked toward it and fingered at the
gate for moment. A passing errand boy
with basket on his arm turned to stare at
him, and he moved quickly through the
gateway and walked along the gravel drive.
A trim maid answered bis ring at the hall
bell
The Rev. Jordan Farrell lives herep he
asked her.
Yes, SIR" the maid responded. "What
name shall sayP'
'Hetheridge-John Hetheridge."
To BE CONTINUED