Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1899-02-18
AS IF SHE WE'RE ASLEEP.

staircase in front and an open door at
the left. On the threshold of this open
door man stood, who a sight of him dOff
ed his hat Passing by this man. Mr.. Suth-
eriand entered the room beyond. table
spread with eatables met his view, beside
which, in an attitude which struck him at
the moment peculiar sat Philemon
Webb the wcl!-known master of the house
AstOnished at seeing his old friend in this
room and in such position. he was about
TO address him, when Mr. Fenton stopped
him.
Wait" said. he. Take a look at poor
Philemon before you disturb him. He was
sitting just as you him when we broke
into the house a half hour ago, and we have
let him be for reasons you can easily APP
preciate. Examine him closely, Mr.. Suth-
erland; he won't notice it
But what ails him? Why does he sit
crouohed against the table? Is he hurt,
tcO?'
No; look at his eyes
Mr.. Sutherland stopped and pushed aside
the long gray locks that half concealed the
countenance of his aged friend.
Why" he cried, startled, they are clos
ed! He isn't dead?'
No, he is asleep
Yes He was asleep when we came in.
and he is asleep yet. Some of the neighbor5
wanted to wake him, but l would not LEI
them His wits are not strong enough to
bear a sudden shock.
mo, no, poor Philemon. But that he
should sit sleeping here while she-~but
what 90 these DOttlcS mean anu CHlS parade
of supper in the room where they were not
accustomed to eat in ~
we don't know Ii has not been eaten,
you see. He has swallowed Il glass of port,
but that is all. The other glasses have had
no wine in them, nor have the victua.s
been touched
Seats set for three and only one occu-
pied" murmured Mr.. Sutherland. Strange!
Could he have expected guests?'
ut looks like it. 7 didn't know that his
wife allowed him such privileges, but she
was always too good to him, and fear has
paid for it with her life
Nonsense, he never killed her. Had his
love been anything short of the Worship
it was. he stood in too much awe of her to
lift his hand against her, even in his most
demented moments
II don't trust men of uncertain Wits re-
turned the other. You have not noticed
everything that is to be seen in this ROOM
Mr.. Sutherland, recalled to his duty by
these words, locked quickly about him.
With the exception of the table and what
was on and by it there was nothing else in
the room. Naturally his glance returned
to Philemon Webb.
II don't see anything but this poor sleep
ing man." he began.
Look at his sleeve
Mr.. Sutherland. with a start. again bent
down. The arm of his old friend lay crook
ed upon the table, and on its blue cotton
sleeve there was smear which might have
been wine but which was-blood
AS Mr.. Sutherland became assured of this
he turned slightly pale and looked inuuir-
ingly at the two men, who We're intently
watching him.
This is bad" said he. amy other marks
of blood below stairs?'
No: that smear is ALL
"Oh, Philemon burst from Mr. Suther-
land, in deep emotion. Then, as he looked
long and shudderingly at his friend he
added slowly:
lie has been in the room where she was
killed; so much Is evident. But that he I'M
defstood what was done there / cannot
believe. or he would not be sleeping here
like log. Come, let US go upstairs
Fenton, with admonitory gesture
toward his subordinate, turned directly
toward the staircase. Mr.. Sutherland fol-
lowed him, and they at once proceeded to
the upper hall and into the large front
room, which had been the scene of the
| tragedy.
1t was the parlor or sitting room of this
small and unpretentious house A rag car
pet covered the floor and the furniture was
OF the plainest kind but the woman who
lay outstretehed on the stiff, old-fashioned
lounge opposite the door was far from be-
ing IN accord with the homely type of her
surroundings. Though the victim of a vio-
lent death. her face and FORM both of
beauty seldom to be found among women
OF any station were majestic in their
calm reoose that Mr.. Sutherland accus-
toned as he was to her noble appearance
experienced a shock of surprise that found
vent in these words:
Murdered! She? You have made some
mistake, my friends. Look at her face,''
But even in the act of saying this his
eyes fell on the blood which had dyed her
cotton dress and he cried:
Where was she struck and where is the
weapon which made this CHASTITY wound?"
"She was struck while standing or sitting
at this table,, returned the constable
pointing to two or three drops Of blood on