The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1896-06-19

on, relentlessly, her face growing colder
and harder with every word. Hear me
through. and then decide for yourself.
Let no opinion Of mine bias your judg-
ment. / stood there a moment longer,
and then, when suspended volition
came back to me, / fed from the place.
Margie, words cannot express to you
my distress, my bitter, burning an
guish! 1t was like to madness! But
sooner than have divulged my suspic-
ions, l would have killed myself For
l loved Archer Trevlyn with a depth
and fervor which your cool nature has
no conception of. love him still,
though | feel convinced, from the bot
tom of my soul, that he is a murderer"
Her cheeks grew brilliant as red
roses, her eyes sparkled like stars.
Margie looked into the bewilderingly
beautiful face with suspended breath.
The Woman's passionate presence
scorched her; she could not be herself,
with those eyes of fire blazing down in
to hers.
Alexandrine resumed, 81 am wasting
time. Let me hurry on to the end, or
your lover will be here before I finish"
MY lover" cried Margie, in a dazed
sort of way, my lover? o yes, 1 re-
member, Archer Trevlyn was coming.
Is it nearly time for him?"
A~lexandrine took the shrinking, cow
ering girl by the shoulders, and lifted
her into a seat.
Rouse yourself, Margie. I have not
done. | want you to hear it all"
Eyes, l am hearing"
1t was pitiful to see how helpless and
weak the poor child had become. All
sense of joy and sorrow seemed to have
died out of her.
Il feared so much that when the
body Of the murdered man should be
discovered. there would be some clue
which would point to the guilty party!
Such a night as I passed, while they
searched for the bodyi I thought I
should go mad," She hid her face in
her hand and her figure shook like a
leaf in the autumn wind.
when the dog took us to the grave
yard, I thought I would be the first in
side l would see if there was any
thing left on the ground to point to
the real murderer. You remember that
1 picked up something, do you not?"
Il do. Your glove, was it not?"
eyes. 1t was my glove, defy the
whole world to take it from me! I
would die before such proof should be
brought against the nan 1 love-" she
cried wildly. "See here"
She drew from her bosom a kid glove,
stained and stiff with blood.
"Margie, have you ever seen it be-
fore? Look here. 1t has been
mended; sewed with blue silk! Do
you remember anything about it?"
Eyes: I saw you mend it at Cape
May" she answered, the words forced
from her, apparently, without her Volt
ton.
You are right. He had torn it while
rowing me out, n morning. l saw
the rem and offered to repair it. He
makes his gloves wear we'll, doesn't
20 don't! don't, how can You? Alex
andrine, wake me, for mercy's sake!
This is some horrible dream"
81 would to heaven it were! It woul1
be happier for US all. But if you feel
any doubt about the identity of the
glove, look here" She turned back
the wrist, and there on the inside,
written in the bold characters, which
were a popularity of Arch Trevlyn's
handwriting, was the name in full
Archer Trevlyn.
Margie shrank back and covered her
eyes, as if to shut out the terrible proof.
Alexandrine returned the glove to her
bosom. and then continued:
The handkerchief found near Mr..
Linmere was marked with the single
A. Whose name begins with
that letter."
Stop. 1 implore you! 1 shall lose my
reason! l am blinded cannot see!
o. if l could only die, and leave it all" i
ITO BE CONTINUED