The Miller press. [volume] (Miller, S.D.) 190?-current, 1909-07-01

The door of the room which Basil
had first been shown into when he ar
rived at the flat-the room with the
mezzotints and aesthetic scheme OF
furniture-was closed. Grant opened
it, supporting the heavy spirit stand
with his left hand as he did so. Mar
riott was a little behind him.
Suddenly the great athlete gave a
startled cry!-a shout Of alarm, high
in the palate-an odd cry, half wild
establishment and half dismay.
There was a crash, as the tantalus,
with its three heavy cut-glass bottles,
its massive mahogany and silver, fell
upon the floor. Grant rolled back
against his companion.
What is it? What is it," Basil
cried.
Grant did not speak. His face was
perfectly white. The long arm, out
stretched toward the room, the point
ing finger, shook like a withered leaf.
Basil dashed into the room. Then
he, too, cried out aloud, though the
SlsullNduCS VI "udL HC saw ulu hOl
mean as much to him at that actual
moment as it did to his host.
Seated in an armchair on the other
side of the fire was the body of a tall,
MISUNDERSTANDING woman. Her
face was very long and thin, lined and
marked by experience and time.
Large black eyes, now set in the fixed
and CLASSY stare of death, seemed yet
to blaze in her face with something Of
the fires OF life.
The thin lips were Curled away a
little from the teeth in the rigor
mortis, and the face seemed to yea
a hooking and sinister smile. Indeed,
so upright was the pose, so natural
and life-like the manner, that it was
difficult to believe what the eye nev-
~ertheless, showed to be an indubitable
fact that here was the mere shell
and tenement of what had once been
a woman.
AS Marriott looked at this awful
sight, and then began to walk toward
the body, Grant staggered into the
room.
What is it? Who is it? What
does it all mean?' Basil asked him, in
a low, trembling voice. "Who is it,"
"she that was Miss Augusta DeCies,
the aunt of the duchess, or, as we
have learned today, the Baroness Won
Ravenstein!"
The two men looked at each other.
What horrible tragedy is this?" said
Basil. Miss Decies dead! Good
heavens!"
Then, instinctively, and at the same
moment, their glances fell once more
upon the stiff, ashen figure in the arm
chair. 1t was like some horrible wax
work.
But why here?" Basil whispered at
last. Why here?"
Grant wrung his hands with a ges-
ture of despair.
81 do not know" he said: Il do not
know. What must we do?"
Look" Basil answered, suddenly
pointing to a small table which stood
by the side of the body. Upon the
table was an ordinary, dark blue bot
tie, with the word 'Poison" upon it,
on a red liable. There was also an en-
velope, and it was addressed, they
Jaw, to Michael Grant.
Marriott, whose nerves were the
most stable of the two, walked up to
the table. He lifted the bottle, which
was uncorked, and smelled. A faint
odor, as of peaches, came to him.
That "a very simple" he said;
"prussic acid"
He put down the bottle.
Then he bent over the dead woman,
took one long hand in his, and felt for
the thin wrist among the laces. The
body was hardly yet cold.
Good Lord! The woman must
have been alive less than an hour
ago!" Basil said.
GrSnt took up the letter with shak-
ing hands, succeeded with some diff
Guilty in tearing open the envelope, and
took out a sheet Of paper. He open
ed the paper. On it was written in a
firm, even handwriting:
t. "a Continued