The Salt Lake tribune. [volume] (Salt Lake City, Utah) 1890-current, 1908-11-08
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Tenantless House

Dark was falling keen and COOL for
frost was in the air, touching the fall
foliage on the hills to crimson and am
Der, silvering the long curving road that
skirted the river bluff, and etching deli
cate hoar tracery on the spidery frame
work of the long black railroad bridge
that hung above ''the hole. " The
warning light from a signal post threw
crimson splash on the ground. Its
green pane cast pallor on n bearded
face turned out over the gloomy water.
The man who had paused there had
come from far, and his posture be-
tokened weariness, but his features were
sharp and eager. He turned and paced
back along the track to the signal post.
stood a moment, his hands clenched.
1.-The new life began here. Here, then,
is where the old life ended From
where he stood he could see blossoming
the yellow lights Of the little city, five
miles away. He set his shoulders, whis-
tied to the small dog that nosed nearby,
AID set off at quick pace down the
road.
What had brought him there7 He
scarcely could have told. Partly, per-
haps, a painful curiosity, flagellant
longing 20 press the iron that had scared
him to his soul So, after a fortnight
of drifting. the dark maelstrom Of his
thoughts had swept him TO its dead cen
ter This was the spot that held the
key to the secrecy whose shame had sent
him hither by night, like a jailbird re-
visiting the haunts that can know him
no more. He came at length to fork
in the road; he mechanically took the
right, and IL led him soon TO n paved
road and TO more cheerful thorough
fares.
Once in the streets, bar to curious
glances. he turned up his coat collar
and settled the brim Of his felt hat
more closely over his eyes. He halted
once before a shadowed door with a
barred window set in its upper panel
the badge of a gambling house, AS he
had walked battling hints of pictures,
untitled outlines like q painter studies
had been fitting before him, as faces
fit noiselessly across the Opaque ground
of camera -obscura. Now, down the
steps from that barred door, a filmy,
faded, Chesterfieldian figure seemed to
be coming toward him with outstretched
band-one Of the ghosts Of his world Of
shadows.
He walked on. lie crossed an open
square and presently came to the gate
of Il Gothic chapel, set well back from
the street. It's great rose window was
alight. for on tins evening was, to be
held 4 memorial service for the old man
whose money had built the pile, who
had died fortnight before in distant
saratorium. A FURNISHED brass plate
was set beside the gate, bearing the
legend; est. James Chapel. Reverend
Henry Sandcrson, Rector The gaze
with which the man s eye traced the
words was as mechanical as the move
ment with which his hand, in his pocket,
closed on the little gold cross; for or
gan practice was beginning, and the air.
throbbing to it, was peopled with con-
fused images-but no realization of tho
past emerged.
He turned at the sound of wheels. and
the blur shocked itself apart to reveal
a kindly face that looked at HIM for an
instant framed in the window of a
passing carriage. With the look a
specter pIuclsed at the flesh of the way
farer with intangible fingers. He
shrank closer against the palings.
Inside the carriage Bishop Ludlow
settled back with sigh. "Only face
! on the pavement he said to his wife,
"but it reminded me somehow Of Harry
Sanderson.'
''How strange il isl - she said---the
bishop had no secrets from his wife
"never word or sign, and every
thing in his study lust as he left it.
What can you do, joint 1t is four