Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1902-11-19
A KnaVe of
Conscience
BY FRANCIS LYNDE.
Copyright 1900, by Francis Lynde.)
CHAPTER XIV


CHAPTER XIV.
The threatening storm had blown
over and the moon was shining fair
and full upon a placid lake when the
family dinner party at DR.. Farm
hams adjourned to the veranda
Griswold and the Raymers were the
only guests, and in the marshalling
of chairs Griswold was skillful
enough to cut Charlotte out of the
group and so secure her for himself.
At the dinner table the talk had
turned upon the pivotal point of the
strike, but that subject was coming
to be pretty well threshed out, and
on the veranda Charlotte spoke of
the wind-blown incident of the after
noon and of the castaway ON Oak
island.
ut was a terribly reckless thing
for you to do-to 60 out after him
in the Sprite." said Miss Farnham.
Now next to being exalted as a
demigod by the woman of his choice
man loves best to have her. believe
him fearless. So Griswold dismissed
the matter lightly.
"What is a man for?" he asked.
But as for that, the danger isn't
worth mentioning"
"You may think so, but Gertrude
and I did not. We stood up here on
the veranda and watched you, going
and coming. Gertrude says I pinched
her black and blue grabbing her and
saying: oh, she's gone!' when the
scud or big wave would hide you"
Here was a small admission which
no mere human sympathy could &C.
count for, and Griswold pinched him.
self black and blue in the ecstasy of
it. 1t was coming, slowly, perhaps,
but surely, and the name of it was
love.
"But think of it," he said, willing
to make that string vibrate some
more; "think of how you and Miss
Gertrude would have shone in the
borrowed effulgence of me if I had
been capsized. The Morning Argus
would have had you out to identify
the remains, and"
"Oh, please hush!" she said, and
her hand was on his arm; where
upon he went obediently from the
grewsome to the matter-of-fa
REALLY, there wasn't any danger
worth speaking of: and the fellow
was glad enough to be picked up. !
assure YOU"
"Who was hep" she asked.
mo one whom you know; a man
named Griffin-a summerer, I fancy"
II do know him. she asserted.
And then: II don't like him.
Griswold was both puzzled and
curious.
May ask how and why?-how
you came to meet him and why you
don't like him?''
She was silent while one might
count score, and when she spoke
her rejoinder was a half reluctant
question.
II wonder if I might dare to tell
you about it?"
II have been hoping that the time
would come when you would dare to
tell me anything"
She passed over the implication
and went on, following out her own
thought.
ut is rather dreadful, and
haven't told anyone about my part
in it; that is, not anyone but this
Mr.. Griffin, and he had a right to
ask" she said; and from this as a
beginning she told him the story of
the bank robbery in New Orleans,
and of her part in the apprehension
Of the robber.
Griswold's lips were dry and there
was an invisible hand clutching at
his throat when she came to the
end, but he made no sign.
"They arrested him in St. Louis,
you say?"
ayes; but he escaped again.
He moistened his lips to say: II
didn't hear of that mean I didn't
read of it in the papers,"
'Nor did l." she admitted. "This
Mr. Griffin told me-"
''Then he is a-a-"
"A detective; yes. It seems that
he came to the conclusion that a
woman had written the letter to Mr..
Galbraith. He took the Belle jules
passenger list and sought out every
one of the women on it till he came
here and found me. T was sorry,
but had to tell him what I knew"
"Of course. But why should you
be sorry?"
SLOW can you ask! Is it so light a
thing to help ever so little to set
q snare for the poor fellow!"
Griswold's laugh was almost harsh
II shouldn't waste any sympathy on
him if I were you. He is hardened
criminal, by his own admission to
you"
mo, he was not that" she said
quickly. II understood him better
than that-better than I have made
you understand him. He was not a
hardened criminal"
Griswold's blood, which had been
slowly turning to ice in his veins, be-
gan to thaw out again at that.
Then you don't condemn him ut.
lterly? You are willing to admit that
his own conscience may have acquit.
ted him?"
Il am very sure that it did; or
at least. am sure that his own
point of view was so obscured by
what he had suffered that he could
not rightly see the guilt of the thing
he had DONE"