Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1905-09-21
" Anna Katharine Green Author Gn fnn." ns Etc. o'"A
CHAPTER XXIII.

The artist returned to his rooms
aazed man. The triumph Of his rival
had Oyerw helmed him. He moved and
acted like an automaton. and passed
from object to object in his apartment
like one who has no further interest
In life. Not till he came upon the sig
norina's picture, cleaning IN SOFT
beauty from the corner where he kept
II enshrined, did fash of the old life
return to him. Then, indeed, he seemed
10 wake and soften to the influence
of the twilight and be man again
Of hopes and fears. But, after long
contemplation of it, he showed re-
newed signs of weakening; and anXi-
pus. probably, to stave off the torpor
which he felt overcoming him, ne
passed to the closet and reached up
bis hand for a certain decanter he
Sept there. 1t was dark, and he had
to grope along the shelf for it; but at
last he found 1t in what he thought a
rather remote corner, and, taking 1t
Gown, discovered, to his surprise, that
It was empty.
Now, as he had filled it that very
morning, he naturally thought this
somewhat suspicious, and looked about
the room to see if any one had been
In 1t during his absence. But he saw
no evidence of this. The intruder,
therefore, must have been some one
both sly and deft, for the room was
uuite small and much crowded with
furniture.
But who had the intruder been? His
landlord or his landlords wife? I'M
possible! Such people as they never
drink. The servant, then? But she
was as awkward as she was good ma
tured, and never came into the room
without upsetting table or so, and
knocking down two pictures at least.
1t must have been a stranger. But
what stranger? Henry Martin, his
fellow artist, whom he had originally
brought with him to this place, was up
in the hills sketching; besides, his
tastes were moderate almost to the
point of abstinence. 1t could not have
been he, nor any one else that he knew.
1t was, therefore, some one that he did
not know.
Arrived at this point he dropped the
subject. After all, what did he care
for this or anything else? He would
sleep; he would shut his eyes upon this
perplexing world. But here a knock at
the door startled him. He was not to
be allowed to rest. Some one demand
ed admittance.
Advancing to the door he opened 1t.
It had darkcncd considerably since he
first came in, and for moment he did
not recognize the face that confronted
him: then an exclamation Of relief left
Lis lips. and he stepped back with
cheerful alacrity, cxclaiming, in the
most welcoming of tones:
"Mr Gryce"'
"The same" was the hearty reiolnd-
er. II am glad to see you wcll.'
The artist, who still held the empty
decanter in his hand, gave short
laugh, and turned to light the lamp.
Il cannot express my pleasure at
seeing you" was his reply. "llave
you just come, and did the spirit of di-
vinaton bring you? You cannot know
how desirable your presence Is here
was just wondering if l would be
justified in sending for you or for Mr.
Byrd. did not think so, and yet, now
that you have come feel relieved of a
mountain weight Of uncertainty and
responsibility. Did you know you
were wanted so much?'
"My presence should be the best an
swer for that. l have no time for
jaunts, and no health to indulge In
them If had"
"Then the detective you sent here tel.
egraphed for your
'He did"
"rhen he is better fellow than I
thought"
"Oh, he Is all right"
Mr. Degraw, more and more cheerful.
showed the detective the empty decan-
ter.
Some one has been helping himself
to my best sherry" said he, "or
would offer you a glass after your
ride"
"WhOm do you mean"
"That don't know"
The detective moved nearer to tho
CRATE, upon which his eyes had been
Fixed ever since he entered the room.
"What Is thls?" he asked, pointing
to the ashes beneath, that were wet, or
appeared to be so.
II can't say; do you suppose 1t Is my
wine which has been poured there"
IL should like to take sniff and see.
But my rheumatism is too much for
me- I could not bend my back so low
If should try"
But can" and the artist went
down on his knees buried his nose in
the ashes, and rose up with perplcxed
face.
my wine IL there: what do you SUD-
pose it means?" he cried.
NIL "lytt Iltuu, uc was
already looking here and there about
the room as only a detective can.
"You leave your window openT he
remarked. .....
Generally"
"some one has jumped out Of it."
"How do you know thatT'
"Here Is the mark of foot In this
down pillow. Evidently flying leap
has been taken from this couch to the
grass beneath"
"Well, I did not see that"
"And IL that Is not a proof. look at