The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1910-06-29

began again-one, two, three, four
one, two, three / lost count en-
tirely here, for nature demanded re-
lief and the sleep of utter exhaustion
overcame me.
I slept heavily, but not restfully,
for out of an abyss Of darkness I
heard Nancy calling, but could not
so to her. I saw her hand stretched
toward me, but could not reach it;
she beckoned and l could not follow.
Then, quite suddenly, the beckon-
ing, appealing hand was raised IN
denunciation. 1t was no longer
Nancy whom I loved. but Julia
Smith, from whom I had escaped,
whose voice l heard; and on the
threatening hand of Julia Smith
saw my signet ring.
CHAPTER VI.
I slept on through the AFTERNOON
and far into the night, waking finally
to find myself sitting upright, listen
ing with strained attention and every
nerve on the alert.
How still it was, and how dark!
I CROPPED for matches, but, not finding
them, fell back upon the pillows,
gazing into the blackness with wide
open eyes, bnt with nc desire for
dawn. For although I had slept pro-
foundly I had not rested, and the
sudden return to consciousness found
me unprepared to meet the light OF
day and be once more up and doing.
T heard the ticking of my watch
and the gnewing of a mouse in the
wainscot. My room was at the back,
so the noise of the street reached me
but family at the best of times, and
tonight they seemed to have ceased
entirely. Surely none Of these things
had walked me.
Then I sat upright again and lis
tened, for T distinctly heard a sound.
I knew the next room was empty, for
it belonged to Starr, and he was
missing. Could it be, I wondered,
that he too had come home unchal-
lenged, as I had done, though
wanted" even more than l?
Where were the matches? I
searched my pockets, although I knew
they were empty, then carefully felt
along the wall until my fingers
touched the door between the rooms,
moving cautiously that / might make
no noise. The door, usually socially
open, was closed, but as my fingers
touched it I hesitated. / knew it was
not locked, for Starr had lost the key
and never replaced it; nevertheless as
my hand closed upon the latch l
paused. For I heard again the sound
in the next room and this time I rec
ognized it: it was the swish Of silk
caused by a woman's skirts.
I did not open the door. L could
not, for something restrained me.
Try as I would, I could not force my
self to turn the knob. I could only
listen with strained attention and
wait breathless for developments.
But nothing developed.
There was silence in Stars room
now-the deep silence that succeeds
unwary movement. And so I lost my
opportunity.
At last the gray light of morning
broke. Little by little objects be-
came d%iscernible, and the rafting
of many milk-carts announced the
arrival of another day. Then, and
not till then, l opened Starts door
and went in. Call it cowardice if you
will. 1 only knew that with the
rustic of that siIken skirt came 4
peculiar lethargy. I could not act,
could not move, could not even think
clearly. AS Casey impressed upon
me afterwards, I could do nothing
but be an unmitigated chump. who
might have saved US all a lot of
trouble but flunked because of a wom-
ans skirts. 1t was no use explaining
to him the psychology of Unseen
Presences. That was and is Casey's
opinion, and it will probably remain
unchanged in spite Of arguments.
Just inside STAIRS door 1 paused.
The room was exactly IS usual. Over
the back Of a chair a coat was care
lessly flung, and the customary row
of neckties hung from the gas fix
ture. Starts slippers were beside
the bed, and his brushes were in their
accustomed place upon the dressing
table. Mechanically I advanced and
touched one of them. Everything was
so unreal of late that I almost ex-
pected it to vanish into thin air, but
the silver and bristles remained in
tact. Something else remained also
something I had not seen when I
first lifted the brush.
Caught in the bristles was a small
comb that I knew Starr had never
used, and to it chung two long, brown,
curling hairs. The comb was what
Nancy had once referred to as a side
comb" 1t lay confdingly nesting
in Starts brush, almost as though
it had a right to do so. Nevertheless,
/ sternly removed it. Gold-mounted
side-combs had no place on STAIRS
dresser. so far as l knew.
Holding it in my hand, I stared
stupidity, trying to extract some in
formation from its mere presence.
Did Aunt Harriet, l wondered, use
STAIRS brush before she vanished SO