Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1901-09-26

| ana rage against SldTlCe WHICH "ouiO
have colored her words had she spoken
when she first returned on the previous
day.
"And much good may it do her, my
dear girls. Perhaps We may get along
just as well, though we are dependent
upon her bounty to do us justice"
"Oh, mamma. don't say anything hard
of Clarice!' said Bertha, warmly. I'm
sure she will do all that's fair and hon.
orable by u.s."
| Yes ma said Lefty. ''Uncle Robert
| told US that he was quite sure young
Mrs. Grayson would carry out all his
| brothers wishes, and he thinks she's
just !ovely!'
| "Oh, indeed" exclaimed Mrs. Martin.
| grinding her white teeth in silent rage.
"Oh, why couldn't leave her wretch
ed and gain Philips money, too?" she
thought. But something must be sac
| rifced. and I suppose it must be re-
! venge."
| She quickly changed the subject, and
the mother and daughters chatted away
about more pleasing things and Mrs.
| Martin forgot everything for little
while.
When DR.. Bethune called on the fol-
| lowing day, Mrs. Martin took care to
| open the door for him herself. The
| young physician was so pale and worn
| that she could not forbear remarkins
| it.
yes" he answered, my mind has
been disturbed about my patient" and
he passed her quickly and fastened up
| the stairs.
| Mrs. Martin followed. more leisurely,
| and, as soon as he had entered Austin's
room, she flew to the eavesdropping
| closet.
| But she heard nothing to reward her.
DR.. Bethune stayed but a few minutes,
| and to Austin's eager question. if he
might soon venture to call on Clarice,
| answered that it all depended upon
himself.
| The doctor then administered some
medicine ind left, charging his patient
to be calm and hopeful, and promising
the chance that Shirley might venture
out within few days.
| Three days passed in this manner,
| and Mrs. Martin began to chafe with
| impotence, but at last she was reward
| ed by hearing a conversation that was,
to her, of the deepest Importance. take
place between Austin and DR.. Bethune.
The two young men We're already in
conversation. and the first words she
| heard when she reached the listening
| place gave her to understand that Shir-
| ley had been entreating his physician to
| allow him to make an effort to see Clar-
| ice.
| You see my dear Frank, have been
i up now for several hours every day for
| some time. feel it would do me good
and not harm to be out; and, oh, if you
but knew how my soul cries out for her
more than ever now know that she Is
| free! And what must she think of me
that I have not sooner sought her?
Since her husband is dead, she must ask
herself a thousand times a day, Why
does not Shirley come, If he has really
been faithful to ma? Why does he not
come, If only to upbraid me?' All.
Frank, cannot bear it any longer!
must see her or die
"And you shall see her this day, II
you are equal to it; but you have much
to hear in the meantime. Yes, you are
to hear me as your physician. and after
that as your friend. The fever from
which you have suffered is at last over
come, therefore, care and attention to
my directions is all that you require.
For the rest, agree with you that sus-
pense and anxiety are more wearing
than even the serious responsibility you
will presently find yourself burdeoed
With. The man whom Clarsce Now
bray married is dead it is true. but his
death was OF tragic and awful char
acter He was murdered in broad day.
light, and there are circumstances in
regard to the murder of so mysterious
and singular character that suspicion
has, quite naturally, fixed on you as the
murderer"
smothered exclamation Of horror OF
Indignation, and a movement which in
dicated that Austin had sprung violent
ly from his chair, was all that the list
ener heard in answer to these words;
and, poor, though she considered her
self, Mrs. Martin would, at that mo.
ment. have given large sum of money
for the privilege of seeing shirleys face
That being impossible. her ear was
more closely pressed to the partition. ir
order that she might make up for be.
ing unable to use her eyes.
''You must kweep calm, Austin,' she
heard DR.. Bethune say. in an impera.
tive tone. you know I would not tel
you this if could help it," and he pro.
ceeoe0 10 put, IN the br1efest and SIM
plest words, the story of Philip Gray.
sons death and all the attendant cir.
cumstances. as we'll as he knew them
concluding with: Il have kept ever,
newspaper account of the tragedy since
it happened and have even played the
spy in your service. The two strong
points against you are the weapon witt
which the murder was committed, anC
which Mrs. Grayson at once acknowl
edged to belong to her. while her moth
err was frightened into saying some
thing about her daughter having re-
ceived the stiletto from you. That, o,
itself, is not much, but it is supposed
that you possessed yourself of the st!i
etto in the church at the time wher
Clarice tainted in your arms; but, Of
course, it is the simplest thing in the
world for you to disprove that by &C.
counting for YOUR time from that mo
ment until you fell insensible at Mrs
Martins, the same evening. AS YOU
physician, 1 will account for your time
since then, and be your bondsman, II
necessary. The second and stronges
point against you is known only to tbs
| privata 1atacfiva in oh of tho G.