The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1910-11-17
CHAPTER XXI.
Anne Watson's Story.

Anne Watson's Story.
Liddy discovered the fresh break
in the trunkroom wall while we were
at luncheon, and ran shreking down
the stairs. She maintained that. as
she entered, unseen hands had been
digging at the plaster; that they had
stopped when she went in, and she
had felt gust of cold damp air. In
support of her story she carried in
my wet and muddy boots. that | had
unluckily forgotten to hide, and held
them out to the detective and myself.
What did l tell you?" she said
dramatically. Look at EN-. They're
yours, Miss RaChel-and covered with
mud and soaked to the tops. tell
you, you can scoff all you like; some
thing has bean wearing your shoes.
As sure as you sit there. there's the
smell Of the graveyard on them. How
do we know they weren't tramping
through the Casanova churchyard last
night, and sitting on the graves"
Mr.. Jameson almost choked to
death. Il wouldn't be at all surprised
if they were doing that very thing
Liddy.' he said. when he got his
breath. They certainly look like it,"
think the detective had a plan
on which he was working, but which
was meant to be a coup. But things
went so fast there was no time to
carry it into effect. The first thing
that occurred was a message from
the Charity hospital that Mrs. Wat
son was dying and had asked for me.
| did not care much about going.
| There is a sort of melancholy plea
! sure to be had out of a funeral. with
its pomp and ceremony, but I shrank
from a death-bed However. Liddy
got out the black things and the crepe
veil | keep for such occasions. and I
| went | left Mr.. Jameson and the
| day detective going over every inch
! of the circular staircase, pounding.
probing and measuring. was inward
ly elated to think Of the surprise | was
| going to give them that night: as it
turned out, | did surprise them-al-
most into spasms.
I drove from the train to the Chair.
~ hospital, and was at once taken
to a ward. There in a gray-walled
room in high iron bed, lay Mrs Wat
son. She was very weak, and she
only opened her eyes and looked at
me when ! sat down beside her.
was MISREPRESENTATION. We had been
so engrosscd that I had left this Door
creature to die without even a word
of sympathy.
The nurse gave her a stimulant
and in a little while she was able to
talk. So broken and halfcoherent
however, was her story that l shall
tell it in my own way. In an hour
from the time I entered the Charity
hospital l had heard a sad and pitiful
narrative, and had seen a woman sin
into the uncOnsCiousness that is only
a step from death
Briefly, then, the housekeepers
story was this:
She was almost 40 years old. and
had been the sister-mother of large
| family of children. One by one thew
had died, and been buried beside their
parents in little town in the middle
west There was only one sister left
the baby, Lucy. On her the older girl
had lavIshed all the love of an impul
sive and emotional nature. When
Anne. the elder, was 80 and Lucy 10
a young man had come to the town
He was going east, after spending the
summer at celebrated ranch in Wy.
oming-one of those places where
wealthy men send worthless and dis,
sipated sons for o season of temper