Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1896-07-09

were careful not to say SO, had really
very little hope that they would ever sue
coed n tracing the assassin.
Meanwhile, Penlyn had nerved himself
Tor another interview with Ida Raugh-
ton, an interview in which he was to tell
her everything, and he went down to
Belmont to do 50.
He found her alone in her pretty draw
ing room, Sir Paul having gone to Wind
sor on some business matter. and Miss
Motifs being out for u walk.
She was still looking very pale, and
her lover noticed that paper was lying
beside her in which was i column head
ed, THE Murder of Mr.. Cundall."
Had she been reading that, he wonder
ed, at the very time when he was on his
way to tell her Of the relationship that
had existed between him and that other
man who had loved her, so dearly?
When he had kissed her, wondering as
he did so if it was the last kiss she would
ever let him press upon her lips after she
knew Of what he had kept back from her
at their last interview, she said to him:
''And now tell me what you have done
towards finding Mr.. Cundalls murderer:
What steps have you taken, whom have
you employed to search for that man.
1T is thought" he answered, that
there is some man, now i'll England, who
may nave done it. A man whose name is
Corot, and who was continually obtaining
money from him.
How is this known
''By some letters that have been found
amongst CundalPs papers. Letters ask
ing for money, and, in one case, threaten
ing him if some was not sent at once;
and with notes in his handwriting saying
that different sums had been sent when
demanded"
"Corot," she said. repeating the name
to herself in whisper. "Corot.' Then,
after pause, she said, mo! That man
is not the assassin
'Not the assassin, Ida!" Penlyn said.
"Why do you think he is not?'
Because I have never known him. be-
cause the form Of the man who slew
him in my dream was familiar to me. and
this mans form cannot be so.'
"My darling" he said, ''you place too
much Importance on this dream. Re-
member what fantasies OF the brain they
are, and how few of them have ever any
bearing on the actual events Of life"
"This was no fantasy" she answered,
"no fantasy. When the murderer is dis
covercd-if he ever is-it will be- seen that
I have known him. l am as sure of it as
that am sitting here. But who was he!
Who was he? I have gone over and
over again every man whom have ever
known, and yet / cannot bring to my
mind which of all those men it is that that
shrouded figure resembles She paused
again, and then she asked: "Has it been
discovered yet whether he had any rela-
tions?"
"Yes, Ida" he said, rising from his
scat and standing before her, while he
knew that the time had come now when
everything must be told. eyes, he had
one relation"
'Who was he?" she asked. springing to
her feet, while strange luster shone IN
her eyes "Who was he? Tell me that"
ooh, Ida." he said, '.there is so much to
tell! Will you hear me patiently while
tell you ALP"
"Tell me everything" she replied. IL
will listen"
Then he told her, standing there face
to face with her.
AS he proceeded with his story, he
could give no guess as to what effect it
was having upon her, for she made no
sign, but, from the seat into which she
had sunk. gazed fxedly into his face.
Once she shuddered slightly, and drew
her dress nearer to her when he confess
cd that he had refused to part from him
in peace; and, when she had read the let
ter that he had written on the night Of
his death, she wept silently for a few
moments.
ITO no continued