The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1901-09-26
THE MU|IR[DIEIR[EIR
BY BARRY PAIN.

Mrs. Mace, the landlady, asked the
question of the nice looking young BIZ
cyclist who rode up to her inn.
well, not particularly. I'm begin
ming tour. suppose you couldn't
put me up here for day or two?'
In an hour the stranger, refreshed by
his bath and change of clothes, came
back to the bench in the courtyard. He
had still an hour or more to wait for
dinner. He began to smoke cigarette,
] let it go out, stared at the ground in
tently and suddenly started up and
looked down the road in the direction
from which he had come. There was
no one on the road. He gave a sigh of
relief, relit a cigarette and sat down
again.
With a burst of laughter three little
girls came out from the inn into the
courtyard. They were the landlords
children, clad in blue serge, brown and
healthy, and they had come out to
catch the strangers dinner. The chase
was brief, and the huntress marched
off with the spoils.
"Would you like to see the chicken
killed?"
He shivered. "No, nor he said.
Then he thanked her warmly. He was
fond of children. 1t was queer, but he
did not like to see things killed.
After dinner he crossed the court
yard and again looked eagerly down
the long white road There was no
one in sight. The light was waning
rapidly. He came back to the sitting
room. 1t boosted an old cottage piano.
On it were copy of Moody and San
keys hymns and some sheets of easy
music, given away as an advertisement
by the proprietors of patent medi-
cine He went to the other end of the
room and sat by the open window,
listening intently. He looked now like
a man worried almost to the point of
madness. He started when the door
opened, and Mrs. Mace brought in the
lighted lamp. He wanted to ask her to
send her husband to smoke a pipe with
j him, but he could not find the right
phrases. He sat alone for half an hour
and then went up to bed. He was
careful to leave his candle still burn
ing when he went to sleep. He woke
with the daylight, put out the candle
and looked from his window down the
empty road. Then he crept back to
bed and slept again.
His spirits seemed better after break
fast next morning. He went out for a
stroll across the moor. The mists were
clearing from the hilltop. The sun
shone out bright and hot, the air was
still, and on every side he heard the
chirping of the grasshoppers. He lay
down and rested, fiat on his back, with
one arm over his eyes. In this scene of
quiet and lonely peace it seemed al
most impossible to believe that the fact
of yesterday was really fact, that the
thing was done which could not be
undone and that the consequences
must inevitably follow.
When he got back to the inn, he
heard the sounds of music. The piano
was being played laboriously and in
efficiently. The music was a hymn
tune and abominable. When he enter
ed the sitting room, he saw that the
performer was the chief huntress of
/ the afternoon before. The other chill
dren listened open eyed. They would
! have run away when he came in.
Don't CO." he said. 'I'll play you
something if you like" He sat down
to the piano and ran his fingers over
! the keys. 1t was a poor instrument,
but fairly in tune. He played the
piano very much better than he rode
the bicycle. Mrs. Mace came in, and
| her husband, and che clumsy boy. The
hired girl stood outside in the passage
and said that it was heaven. Have
some more,'' said the chief huntress
when he stopped. He laughed.
After the midday meal he blew up
the tires of his bicycle and went up
stairs to pack his wallet. Looking out
from his window. he saw that it was
all over. The mounted policeman clat-
tered into the courtyard. and Mrs.
Mace came out to speak to him.
Eyes. that's the man. | must go up
and take him. Tell your husband to
get his cart out We shall want it,
He swung himself from his horse.
whats he done!" asked Mrs. Mace,
GREATNESS and aghaSt.
KILLED his girl outside Birnly yester-
day morning.
From the upper room Of the inn there
rang out the sound of revolver shot.
clear and fatal. Blue smoke stole
through the open window Without
another word the officer dashed into
the inn and up the stairs. The chill
dren ran out and chung to their moth
er's skirts, crying and frightened
Black and White.