The herald., 1895-02-10
BY
E. H.
Clough.

E. H. and Darcal as he gazed upon
it, began to understand what
Clough. he had dene. Perhaps even at
that moment, he began to fear
the consequences of his crime. Yes, the
woman was dead there could be no doubt
on that score. The grip had been too
firm, and the 1.-the, sinewy, rage-strength-
ened fingers had clutched the white, soft,
slender neck with a ferocity that only
death could appease.
The brutality of the crime did not move
Darcal SO much as wonderment that
his purpose had been accomplished so
easily She had scarcely struggled when
his fingers closed upon her throat. She
could not scream and her gurgling sobs
were smothered by the other hand of the
murderer, close pressed upon the woman s
mouth. Darcal was calm enough now, as
he stood there looking down into that face
so cold and still, the eyes almost closed
and the lips parted as if the sleeper were
trying to utter the incoherent thoughts of
her dreams. And now he wondered why
he had killed her. 1t was too soon for re-
morse; but an indefinable fear began to
creep into his heart, chilling it and op-
pressing its action. A fear of what? The
hangman? Not yet. Justice, even at her
swftest, is but leaden-heeled and the
ahngman stands long in the shadow of
the crime. No; Darcal did not fear the
hangman, for reason told him that if he
did not betray himself he was safe from
evil consequences. Nobody had seen him
enter the house. 1t was growing dark.
Nobody need see him leave the place
Those who should discover the corpse need
never know the perpetrator of the deed or
his motive. The secret was safe enough
in the keeping of himself living and the
one dead.
Still he could not rid himself of that OPP
pression-that feeling OF heart-numbn
and brainweight so akin to fear, and vet
was not fear; so nearly related to remorse,
and was not remorsc.
He looked about him, half expecting to
find someone or something close by, at his
elbow, also looking down at the face of the
dead woman. The little ivory clock on
the mantel struck six. The chimes
startled him and the silence oppressed
him. He looked once more at the face of
the woman, peering through the twilight
to observe more closely the features
of the woman that had died by his hand.
1t seemed to him that they were
of ghastlier hue; the eyes were open
ing, and there was a CLEAN of teeth be-
tween the parting lips-a hideous, sinis-
ter smile, such as only the dead can smile.
Darcal began to feel uncomfortable, and
he would have gone away if he could
have overcome the strange fascination
that had begun to exercise its influence
upon him-a fascination one element of
which was the danger of discovery if he
remained
He wanted to reason out why he had
killed her. He wanted to analyze and
make clear to his understanding the mo-
tives that had impeled him to this muir
der. Yes, murder; he would not try to
disguise or palliate the truth; and having
admitted the truth, he derived an inten-
sity of pleasure in contemplation of his
crime that can be appreciated only by
those who have wantonly, or in cold
blood, slain fellow being.
Why had he killed her? That he was
justified, Darcal did not doubt for an in
slant. 1t was only necessary that he
should collect his thoughts, arrange the
details in their proper order, and trace the
logic of events to find ample justification
for the murder. 1t was not necessary that
his theory of self-defense should satisfy
any one but himself, for it was impossible
that any one else should ever know who
had murdered the woman or why she was
murdered. Only in the rarest instances
are murderers unable to arrive at this self
Justification, and Darcal was confident
that his was not an exceptional case.
Going back to that manipulating under
the apple blossoms, in that distant land
where the flowers are perennial beneath
skies that are forever blue, Darcal sought
for his Justification and found it net,
though he saw dimly through the mists of
the years a fatelful shadow creeping
athwart the sunshine If those happy,
hopeful hearts. Then he came to the lit