The Caldwell watchman. (Columbia, La.) 1885-1946, 1911-07-14

WIG. nitSl -boOiSy . 1itd1 ouu Con
yiction, her father and friends urged
her to take advantage of that merci-
full law which would almost automatic
ally free her from such CALLING chains.
However, Grace was a devout
churchwoman, and refused to heed
these entreaties, claiming tearfully
that she had married the man for
better or worse" She even wanted to
attend the trial and subsequently visit
the condemned criminal in jail; but
here Mortimer Williston put his foot
down fatty and carried her off to Los
Angeles for an indefinite stay. But
she wrote several letters to the man
who had SO grossly deceived her.
Freedom came about in an almost
miraculous manner. One day the
newspapers contained black-faced
front-page articles telling of sue.
cessful breakaway and escape at Sing
Sing. 1t seemed that a gang OF men
were working on the outer wall of the
prison on the river side. The month
was February; a dense fog hid the
Hudson from shore to shore; the river
was frozen to mid-channel.
When the whistle blew at five
o'clock three of the convict gang
made dash for liberty-"Pete'
Skent, skinny Toler and Bill Dab
ney-all old-time pals and longterm
men. Across the railroad tracks they
ran. dashed down the low bank, and
out on the ice. Rife flashes stabbed
the fog and bullets sang around the
trio, but the case was hopeless under
the conditions. It was learned after
ward that the fugitives had made for
the channel with the intention OF
swimming across to the ice on the
Jersey shore.
That some one had been wounded
was evidenced by bloodstains on the
snow: next day it was learned that
Skenf had been picked up by pass
ing tug-boat: he was shot through the
back. and lived only long enough to
declare almost with his dying breath
that he had seen Toler and Dabney
sucked under by the swiftly-fowing
tide.
'Ir that case" said the warden,
look for their bodies in Gravesend
Bay next spring"
So, accident or the justice of God
had freed Grace Williston. Upon her
return to New York, her beauty chas-
tened and refined by the fires OF sui
fering, Stephen Dawlish was one OF
the first to show his sympathy and
appreciation. Their friendship began
again where it had left off two years
before; the instant that convention
permitted, Dawlish proposed again
and was accepted, the wedding being
set for the ensuing autumn; this time
the ceremony was to be very quiet
a house wedding at "The Larches,"
the Williston place at Great Neck,
some ten miles from the Dawlish es-
tate at Locust Valley, and within easy
reach by motor.
So much of the story Finney Valen-
tine recalled during the tedious jog
ging of the train on his way to obey
the urgent summons Of Steve Daw-
lish. From what the ex-inspector
could gather from the young mans
agitated message it looked as though
a tragedy threatened once more to
mar the life of Grace Williston-for
she had resumed her maiden name on
the death of Bill Dabney.
But was he dead after all? Daw-
lish had distinctly mentioned the
FIRST husband" then "blackmail,"
and Just killed man." Such piquant
sentences were enough to scorch the
wires. However, speculation was use
less until all the facts were on tap.
Ten. minutes over the hard North
Shore roads brought Finney Valen.
tine and Stephen Dawlish face to face
in the snug library of "The Boulders.'
Steve was pale, nervous and on edge
with excitement, pacing restlessly up
and down the long low-ceiled room.
Cad! l thought you'd never get
here!" exclaimed Dawish.
"Sit down. man, and get a grip on
Yourself commanded Valentine.
Things may not be as bad as you
imagine
"Bad! Imagined" almost shouted
the other. "They couldn't be worse!
Not that l regret putting that dirty
dog out of business. but just see the
hole it puts me in. I'm engaged to be
married in three days from now. Sud-
denly that hound, her husband, re-
member, whom everyone supposed to
be dead, turns up and threatens to
stop the proceedings-as of course he
could, So in sudden passion and dis
gust I kill him. Justifiable, you say.
Yes. but where does that leave me?
Would any woman marry the slayer
of her husband, no matter how big a
Villain he WASP"
By the end of this incoherent TRADE
Stephen Dawlish was on his feet once
more, pacing up and down the wide
rue In front of the drift-wood fire.
How did it happen?" queried Val
entine. IF l am to help you must
have the facts as they occurred, and
without any Mysteries. mind YOU"
This little bit of sarcasm Gained
the speaker; he poured himself stiff
drink of Scotch and soda, and went
on more connectedly:
81 was due at The Larches for din