The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1898-01-30
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, JANUARY 30, 1898.

ana had secretly accomplished his revenge.
If he let him live, he would be the first
upon whom the suspicion of robbery would
fan.
He began to creep silently round the bed
a red cloud was before his eyes, a strange.
fierce EMULATION in his heart. He lost
sense of the object Of his intended action.
The lust of murder absorbed him.
He reached the side of the bed. rose to
his feet and gripped the knife hard It's
long, tapering blade glittered in the moon
light. Only patch of the travellers face
was visible between the night cap and
the counterpart, and that patch was dis
! figured by a portion of a great raised scar
He was lying on his right side, with his
left arm thrown forward. Only the coun-
terpane and sheet covered him, as Jonas
had ascertained. and these were drawn
taut over his body
Jonas stood for a moment hesitating.
with uplhted hand. Then suddenly he
brought down the blade with the speed Of
lightning. A horrible jerk. two or three
! convulsive quivers through all the limbs,
and then absolute stiffness. The knife had
been driven through the sleeper's heart.
For some time Jonas remained motionless
staring like man struck with catalepsy
| Then he picked up one bag, replaced the
other in the box, and sped through the
window. Safe in his cockloft again. with
the ladder carefully replaced, Jonas sat
' down upon his bed, put the bag of money
"
his forehead, and tried to realize what
had happened
Though his heart beat violently, ne was
quite free from terror or TemOrse. What
mainly exercised his fancy was the cX-
ceeding simplicity of the deed. He pom
dered over it with a morbidly speculative
interest. If he could only make sure of
the place to strike, he could kin a camp
of hundred sleeping men-stabbing them
stealthily one after another. The idea fas-
cinated him. He grasped a broken whip
STOCK that was lying on the bed and went
| through, the movement of plunging it into
mans breast. The non-resistance of the
flesh to the passage of the knife had sur
prised him. The blade had seemed to sink
in like trowel into a wet mould. 1t had
caused him an indefinable sensation which
ii fascinated him to recall.
| For a long time mans blood had been
| upon his head without causing MIN
! culver in his sleep. But he had never seen
the death of any one of his victims. They
/ had been stray travellers concerning whose
| movements he had sold informatio to
! gentlemen of the road, and if they had
/ proved contumacious when bidden to stand
! and deliver and had been punished with
4 bullet through the head, 1t was none of
I his business. From which it may be gath
/ cred that Jonas Games had attained that
/ moral insensibility which is as indis2ens-
/ able to the comfort of the criminal as
| delicately sensitive conscience is to that
! of the Christian gentleman. The blood
/ money had procured him much personal
qualification in the way of strong waters
and that was the end of the matter. But
now he had KILLED a man with his own
hand. Il could ha' done 1t again and
again. he muttered with a horrible pride.
His foot happened to touch the bag OF
money, and the contact aroused him from
! his preoccupation. What was he to do?
| Fly at once on the strangers horse, or
hide the money in the cavity at the back
of the mortise of the loosely lifting beam,
| where he had already hidden many a
| squab-shaped bottle of Struggled Schie-
dam from the prying eyes of Mrs Settle
| He sat for moment hesitating, while the
| thought of the gallows shook him. His
| flesh crept with an uncomfortable shiver
! and his throat became dry. Instinctively
| he reached out his hand for the bottle of
| Hollands. Two or three gulps restored
| his equanimity, and set his wits at work.
| In a few moments he had decided. He
would secrete the money cunningly, go to
| bed, drink himself helpless, as he had often
done and sleep until he was awakened next
morning. But first he must see to chance
bloodstains on his hands or clothing, and
| examine his treasure.
For this purpose he closed the open door
of his loft and lit stump of tallow candle
| fixed by shapeless grease droppings in the
| mouth of a bottle. Satisfied by close per-
| sonal scrutiny that he bore no traces of
| blood. he took up the bag of money with
| a throb of delight. 1t seemed heavier than
| when he had carried it from the dead
mans room. Holding it by the neck with
one hand, he felt with the other it's bel
| lying sides and a thrill passed through
his flnger-tips and stirred his heart. Two
hundred pounds at least-a fortune to be
| spent in unimaginable joys in some sea-
port town miles and miles away from Tur-
| rell. He dallled with the pleasure of un-
| holy anticipation.
At last he settled himself upon the bed
with the glaring candle by his side. and
the bag between his knees, and fumbled
| with the sealed Irvine around the neck
Then for the first time he noticed that
written label was fixed to the string Out
of curiosity he brought it to light But
no sooner had his eyes fallen on the writ
ing than it held them in a wide amazed
! stare
For Mr.. Jonas Eames."
Mistake was impossible. The words were
traced in a round, clerky hand
A nameless fear seized upon hitn-tbe
| fear of the supernatural the uncanny-
the fear of the mysterious, terrible land
of Destiny He quaked in supersttious
| terror. Again the sweat beaded on his
forehead. His heart thumped like a
thresher's fail against his sides For a
while he was too dizzy and stupeGed 10
perceive the grim irony of the incident
When, at last it dawned upon his scared
senses that he had put his head in the
gallows' moose just to obtain what was
coming to him as a gift, his gorge rose
with sickening feeling of disgust. For
moment he cursed himself for not having
taken the other bag. Perhaps that was
meant for him, too. Or was it all some deep
witchcraft that had suddenly summoned
the label into being and was thus threat
ening him with unknown horrors?
He sat cross-legged on the bed. his ell
BOWS on ms knees, snawing at his great
dirty fingers. There was the writing. "For
Mr.. Jonas Eames,' staring him in the
face. For the while the desire TO open
the bag had gone.
His thoughts went back to the murder