The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1905-11-12
III.
Arson Durand.

j A$~ dismayed heart, L stared at
Wv the fallen jewel as at some
i hateful thing menacing both my life
1 and honor.
~ have had nothing to do with it,
4 z vehemently asserted. 81 did not put
i The gloves in my bag, nor did l know
I the diamond was in them. l tainted at
the first alarm, and
posed h1 the INSPECTOR tnetsi kindly Il Do
/ not doubt you in the least; not when
5 there is a man to doubt. Miss Van
4 Arsdale, you had better let your uncle
take you, home, I will see that ting
nall is cleared for you. TomorroW !
I viii spare you all further Importantly
1 I Shook my head. It would require
/ more courage to leave at that moment
than to stay Nesting the Inspectors
"If Mr.. Durand's good name Is to
/ suffer in any way. I will not forsake
| him. I have confidence in his integ-
/ city, if you have not. It was not his
4 hand, but one much more guilty, which
N9eP so! so! do not be too sure Of that,
4 little woman. You had better tak Ike
4 your lesson at once. It will be easier
i For you, and moro wholesome for him.
Here he picked. up the jewel:
/ tion. 'I am not surprised, now that
4 q have seen great gem, at the famous
stories I have read of men risking life
and honor for their possession. If only
no blood had been shed!'
IL "Unclel uncle!" I walled aloud in
my agony.
It was all my lips could utter, but
Il to uncle, it was enough. Speaking up
for the first time, he asked to have a
passage made for us, and when the
Z = I 1H IN " q
threw his arm about me, and was en-
deavorinc to find fitting words with
which to fill up the delay, when short
alteration was heard from the. door
way, and Mr.. Durand came rushing in,
/ followed immediately by the inspector.
4 at the bag, which still hung from my
arm. AS [ noted this action, my whole
q inner self seemed to collapse, dragging
my happiness down with it. But, my
countenance remained steady, too
steady, for when his eve finally rose
him recoil and turn with something
(. like ferceness on his companion.
you have been talking 3e1 to her. he
have gone further than. that. What
has happened here9 I think I ought to
Dalzell; SO perfectly free from all con-
nection with this crime. Why have
you shut her up here, and piled her
with questions, and made her look at
me with such an expression, when all
you have against me TEL, Is Just what you
that I was weak enough, or unfortu-
a nate enough, to spend few minutes
with that unhappy woman in the
L alcove before she died9n
H dale herself would answer you,n was
ID Che inspectors quiet retort. 'sWhat
5I you have said may constitute all that
we have against you, but it is not all
EE we have against herr
nF not the 80 mofve st Of fh7 Mhef
believed myself to understand, but at
III received by Mr.. Durand.
k What do you mean9" he demanded.
81 with certain odd breaks in his voice.
"aa' t siN aGg 'G ret9rned ' the in
spector,. with a, look in my direction
not to be mistaken.
II do not e call it a II. t1iv III I
was found without gloves on her arms
a AS she certainly wore them on entering
Che alcove, the police have naturally
Il been looking for them. And where do
rs. you think they have found them:F Not
IN the alcoye with her.Lnot il the
B
4 s sd5y carried them away with him
nosrs. knq owl T kP99F Fo Ma NJ D 1eF nd
any more: Oh, my poor Rital what
haze y; ! brought upon you by my weak
Weakness!'
He started; started; my voice wa.
Il Totally unrecognizable.
~ should give it another NAME"
II added, coldly.
For a moment he seemed to lose
4 heart, then he lifted his head again
Il and looked as handsome as when h
/ had plead for my hand in the little
Il conservatory.
"You have that right,'' said he
ssbesides, weakness at such time
4 and under such exigencies, is little
! short Of wrong. 1t was unmanly in MI
4 to endeavor to secrete these gloves
than Hnmapy for tn me to eheog
an article belonging exclusively tt
yourself I acknowledge it, Rita, AM
Shall meet only my just punishment i
4 YOU deny me in the future both you
4 sympathy and regard: But you mus
let me assure you and these, gentlemen
- unpleasant for me, that consideration
& for YOU much more than any miser
+ able anxiety about myself, lay at tn
/ bottom Of what must strike you all a
II an act OF unpardOnaDle cOWard1ce
From the moment l learned Of thi
I woman's murder in the alcove, wher
j had visited her, realized that every
one who had been seen to approach
4 her within a half hour of her dealt
would be subjected to more or les
rigid investigation, and feared j
Il her gloves were found in my posses
sion, some special attention might b
directed my way. which you'd caus
you unlnerited distress. So, yieldin
TO an impulse which I now recogniz
Is most unwise, as we'll as unworth
one,% I took advantage Of the bustl
about us, and of the insensibility int
j which you had fallen, to tuck thes
lying on the floor at your side. I wi
not ask your pardon, My whole futu1
life shall be devoted to winning that
simply wish to state fact. -
Very. good. It was the inspecto
who spoke 7 could not Ct have :. utter
YOU will now feel that you owe it t
This young lady to add how you cam