Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1900-09-08
The Flttest Survives
BY ]. H.

hensible way involved i'm it's meshes,
and how he had reached his home aft
er the awful revelation that had been
made to him, he never clearly knew.
No doubt he and the inspector smiled
at each other, bowed, perhaps shook
hands, and said good day." and he
had gone out in quiet, ordinary, every
day fashion, as men oftentimes do
when their mentality is temporarily
completely numbed. Rut the last
thing he remembered in the interview
was that he he asked if he might not
be allowed to see the unhappy young
man already practically doomed, to
which the inspector gravely replied:
Tomorrow, perhaps, but l must re-
iuse at present. He will have to re-
main today alone with his thoughts.
tonight L shall probably get a fun
confession from him"
The confession was made. but hard
ly in the way the inspector antici.
pated. About 8 o'clock that evening
he visited the prisoner in his cell, The
young mar was by that time in a
nervous and highly agitated condi-
tlon. AS yet he had not been per-
mitted TO know why the petty offense
ior which he was arrested had not
already been passed upon in a police
court, why he had been transferred
from the station house in which he
was hrst incarcerated to the cell at po-
lice headquarters, why he could not
open communication with anybody or
see any n but his ~jailors, who
seemed to be mutes when he ques-
toned them. Whatever fortunes he
suffered from the stabs Of his guilty
conscience he managed to conceal
wei, maintaining a courageous and
even placid exterior, and doubtless he
ana gain some confidence in his mex
perlence from the length of time
which had passed without any indica-
ton appearing to him that he WA
suspected of any graver crime than
that for which he had been arrested.
when the inspector visited him, he
protested energetically against his
treatment, likening himself TO the
martyrs OF h inquisition, the VIC
TINS OF the council of ten and the hu.
man prey of the car. His nervous ex-
citation urged him to volubility, but
the calm, stern detective listened to
him patiently, imperturbably, with
out interruption. Finally he demand
ed:
IF l had committed a technical Of
Tense, why did they not at once fine
me and be done with ito"
Sudden as lightning the gray eyes
hurled into his a bolt of light that
seemed to dart down into his heart
and cleave a way for the appalling
question:
Would you have paid it out of the
price of Richard Wilmarth's blood?"
Chester Sewall staggered backward,
and supporting himself by an out
stretched hand against the white
washed wall behind him stood silent,
painting, with the terror-stricken look
OF a hunted creature in his wide di-
lated eyes. Taken thus unawares,
with his nerves already all unstrung,
he had no time to think OF. dissimula-
ton, If even the strength for it was
still in him, and his guilt was blaz-
oned upon his countenance.
You had better make a clean breast
of it, my lad. The proof against you
is perfect, and escape impossible. Con-
fess, make up your mind to the inevi-
table like a man, and you will feel
better than you have since the deed
was done"
The prisoner uttered not a word,
but slowly sank TO a sitting posture
on the bench over which he had
been leaning against the wall, keep
ing his eye fixed as If fascinated upon
those of his terrible master.
If you had accomplices, make to So
ciety what atonement you IAN for
your crime by giving them up to JUS
tice. If misfortune drove you to the
deed alone, confess it., and you will
find sympathy, even in the heart Of
the girl you have made an orphan
instead of a wife"
Chester, with a cry of agony and
despair, buried his face in his hands
and sobbed aloud.
The inspector allowed a few min
utes' grace to his paroXyism of emo
ton and then renewed his attack.
Come" he said. you will tell me
all about it, will you not?"
Yes, yes" sobbed the culprit, "but
give me time to think-an hour-only
II hour-and them
Without another word the inspec-
tor noiselessly left the cell, secured
its door, turned down the iaring let
of gas in the corridor outside, so that
the place was plunged in almost
sepulchral gloom, and returned to
his private Office to wait with conf
dence for the expiration of the
allotted time.
Chester, still weeping, arose totter-
ingly to his feet and staggered to
and fro from end to end of his cell.
wringihg his hands and moaning.
Finally his outburst of violent grief
climaXed in a despairing shriek:
"Oh, my God, my God, is this the
end of all? Oh, my lost youth,
my hope, my love! What have |
done with them ALP"
Supporting himself against the wall.
he passed his hand over his brow with
a dazed, uncertain gesture, as if try
ing to control himself, to think, to re-
call something. Suddenly he paused
and stood erect. The thought had
come to him.
With trembling fingers he fumbled
hurriedly THROUGH his pockets until
he found a small pocket comb that
had been in his possession when he
was searched by the police. On one
side, of it's celluloid handle, into which
the comb closed like the blade of a
razor, was set n tiny mirrcx. He had
little difficulty in prying from it's place
the bit of glass. Thrusting half its
width into the groove intended to
hold the comb, he pressed firmly upon
the protruding half until it gave way,
breaking lengthwise. in doing so he
cut one of his thumbs severely, but
did not seem to notice the fact. With
the two bits of glass in his hand he
laid down upon the bench and turned
his face to the wall.
CHAPTER XIII.
XNLo. H. snnnaa4A. Aa.o