Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1896-07-11

ell or his grave, you will never meet me
again. Twill leave the city in the morn
ing at 8 :S0."
CHAPTER VI
It is October. Nearly four months
have dragged along since Cochrane start
ed on his search. He has not been sue
cessful, and hope that he will be has
died in the hearts Of the two anxious
ones in New York. Frequent letters
have been received detailing his prog
ress. He has been constantly travelling,
searching, cropping for the key to unlock
the secret of Powell's journey.
IT am confident he wrote in one
letter, "that Powell carried part Of
his time table in his head. Possibly q
day, or even two, may have intervened
where he drew the line through the col
umn. have studied out several other
combinations and shall continue to fol-
low them as long as have strength
enough to do so. I am not yet discour-
aged, but distressingly puzzled
In letter a few weeks later he wrote:
II have less hope tonight than at any
time since left you, and it is only by
the exercise Of every particle Of will
power possess that am kept from go
ing to bed and sending for doctor"
Still later he wrote: II have spent
an entire week here in fruitless search.
Twice I picked up what believed
might be clews worth following, but
after running them to the ground am
disappointed again and can only write
you Of failure and heaviness of heart.
Yesterday drove and walked nearly
so miles over some of the most horrible
roads I ever saw. I leave here in the
morning"
Early in September he had written
again. It was evident that he was al
most hopeless, and Kendall read his
words with a sinking heart. Cochrane
did not wholly give up, however, for in
the last few lines he said he would go
to Pittsburg and try a steamer route
down the river from that point "f
this falls" he wrote, "my resources
will have been exhausted, and shall
be compelled to admit that can do
nothing more God only knows what
will happen to me when I stand face to
face with another failure"
Since that time Kendall had heard
nothing from MIN. The days dragged
YEARLY along and hope sank with each
as twilight faded into evening. For q
time Kendall avoided his wife's in
quiries and tried to put her. off by de-
claring that he was saving up good
news as surprise for her, but she saw
him grow daily more nervous and ap-
prehensive, and finally, in response to
pleading, he confded to her his gravest
fears.
At this time he has become but
shadow of his former self His eyes
dark and hollow, his face pale and
drawn, his form bent and shrinking,
his step unsteady and hesitating, his
hands cold, clammy and clinched- He
starts suddenly when spoken to. he is
abstracted and wandering in his talk,
he can set himself at no task at which
he can remain, he can sleep but little,
and walks bis bedroom at night with
head bent forward listening, ever lis
tening for news of the missing.
And no wonder. Honest John Ken
dali, in whom there is not the faintest
trace of deceit, guile, dishonesty, cruel
ty or wrong, who would sooner submit
to death itself than become the possess
or of a dollar dishonesty secured, is
the suspected murderer of his employer.
The terrible strain begins to tell upon
him as hope of success by Cochrane dies
out. Men shake their heads and say:
IT told you so! He's breaking down,
and some of these days you'll read in
the papers of his collapse and confes
sion. The detectives are watching him
very closely now. How well they've
planned it all! They let him take his
own way and made him believe they
had no suspicion whatever. They'll
have him yet, and much good the han
ding of poor Powell's thousands will
do him then"
But Kendall is not unaware Of this.
He sees it in their faces, hears it in
their voices, feels it in their presence,
knows it by the way they act. His home
is watched, he is watched at the office,
he is followed in the street. He is sus-
pect, against whom nothing can be
proved, but who cannot prove his innc-
cence.
Last night he walked the floor till
daylight saw him stagger and fall upon
couch, where scarcely IN hour passed
in fitful slumber. His fearful, anxious
wife came to him, as she had many
times before, and put her arms about his
neck and tried to whisper words of en-
couragement. my poor, dear boy, " she
said, "this cannot last always Good