Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1896-10-31
THE
PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY.
THE
BY OSCAR WILpE

How quickly IL had ali been done! He
felt strangely calm, and walked over to the
window, opened it and stepped out on the
balcony. The wind had blown the fog away
aud the sky was like a monstrous peacock's
tail, starred with myriads of golden eyes
He looked down aud saw the policeman 90
ing his rounds and flashing IA bull's-eyC
lantern on the doors of the silent h"uses
The crimson spot Of a proving ha.sun
cleaned at the corner, and then vanished
A woman in ragged shawl was c~reoping
round by the ratings, staggering as she
went. Now and then she stopped, and
peered back. Once she began TO sing IN n
hoarse voice. Tn policeman strolled over
and said something to her. She stumbled
away, laughing. A bitter blast swept across
the square. The gas-lamps fickered, and
became blue, and the ~lcafless trees shook
their black iron branches as if in pain. He
shivered, and went back, closing tho win
dow behind him.
: He passed 10 the door, turned the key,
and opened il. He did not even glance at
the murdered man. He felt that the secret
of the whole thing was not TO realize the
situation. The friend who had painted the
fatal portrait, the portrait TO which all his
misery had been due, had gone out of his
life. That was enough.
Then he remembered the lamp. II was a
rather curious one of Moorish workmanship,
made of dull silver inlaid with ar~abesques
of Furnished steel. Perhaps it might be
missed by his servant, and questions would
be asked. He turned back and took il from
the table. How still the man was! How
horribly white the long hands looked He
was like a dreadful wax image.
He locked the door behind him, and crept
quietly downstairs. The woodwork creaked
and seemed to cry ont as il in pain. He
stopped several times, and waited. No;
everything wa still. 1t was merely the
sound of his own footsteps.
When he reached the library, he saw the
bag and coat in the corner. They must he
hidden away somewhere. He unlocked IA
secret press that was in the wainscoting,
aud put them into it. He could easily burn
them afterward. Then he pulled out his
watch. 1t was twenty minutes to two.
He sat down, and began to think Every
year-ovcry month, almost-men were
stranglcd in England for what he had done.
There had been a madness of murder in the
air. Some red star had come too close 10
the earth.
Evidence' What evidence was there
against himi Basil Hallward had left the
house at eleven. No one had seen him come
in again. Most Of the servants were ut
Selby Royal. His valet had gone TO bed.
Paris! Yes. 1t was TO Paris that Basil
had gone, by the midnight train, as he had
intended. With his curious reserved habits,
it would be months before any suspicious
would be aroused. Months! Everything
could be destroyed long before then.
a sudden thought struck him He put
on his fur coat aud hat. and went out into
the hall. There he paused, hearing the
slow, heavy tread of the policeman outside
on the pavement, and seeing the fash of
the lantern reflected in the window. He
waited, holding his breath.
After a few moments he opened the front
door, and Slipped out, shutting it very gently
behind him. Then he began ringing the
hell. In about ten minutes his valet APP
peared, half dressed, and looking very
drowsy.
IL am sorry TO have had to wake you up,
Francis, " he said, stepping in; 'but had
forgotten my latch-key. What time is it?"
Five minutes past two, sir" answered
the man, looking at the clock and yawning.
Five minutes past Two. How horribly
late! You must wake me at min" tomorrow.
] have some work TO do"
"All right, SIR
"Did any one call this evening""
"Nlr. Hallward. sir. He stayed here till
eleven, and then he went away to catch his
train
"Oh! / I'M sorry ] didn't see him. Did he
leavo any mcssagc:'
mo, sir, except that he would write to
you"
''That will do, Francis. Don't forget TO
call me at nine tomorrow"
"No, sir"
The man shamblcd down the passage In
his slippers.
Dorian Gray threw his hat and coat upon
the yellow marble table, and passed into tho
library. He walked up and down the room
for "A quarter of an hour, biting his lip, and
thinking. Then lie took the Blue Book
down from one Of the shelves, and began TO
turn over the leaves. ALAN Campbell, l52
HEREFORD Street, Mayfair" Yes that was
the man he wanted