The daily Gate City. [volume] (Keokuk, Iowa) 1855-1916, 1911-08-29
The Marrow
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The pig. staring headlines had
| startled him, shocked him; and vet
he was not really surprised. AL, xlorg
| he had felt that sooner or latNr. this
would happen. He knew ;hem both
| so well. From the premises 1t had
not been difficult to work out the CON
| clusion. There had been moments. Il
| is true. when optimistically he had
| dared hope that some accidental turn
of events might intervene 10 avert this
grim ending of romance which had
| been luckless from its birth. But of
late the woman had grown more ard
more reckless. and he had seen that
the inevitable could not much longer
be delayed.
Kent Hollis, seated on the side of
his tossed bed, leant forward with the
newspaper outspread between lis pa
5ama-clad knees, and gripped lightly
at either side by tense, nervous
| hand. Save for muttered expletive
at first sight of the sensational cap
ton, he had not spoken.
/ Old Joe Parrish, Warren Stanton's
dresser, had brought the news;
/ brought 1t, at this unconscionable hour
of four in the morning, N a copy OF
that premature theatrical and sport
| ing daily which meets you at the res
taurant door after your late supper.
Hollis had been awakened out OF q
sound sleep by the fellows persistent
knocking, and had risen in a half
daze to switch on the light and go to
the door. Drowsy and bewiloered as
he was, the little mans pallid face
and excited manner as he had thrust
into his hand the crumpled paper.
damp from rain, had conveyed the con-
tagion OF alarm. And swift glance
had revealed the cause.
Then he had staggered back, with
that one muttered exclamation,
through the parted curtains that sep
arated his two rooms, and had sunk
Imply to the beds edge. Parrish,
! stopping beneath the archway, still
stood there, his disregarded umbrella
shedding trickling stream OF water
which was forming a pool on the
| waxed floor between the rugs.
For a moment the printed lines had
mingled into gray blur under Hol-
Hiss Unlicensed gaze. But now he was
reading with burning interest the brief
/ story of the tragedy. The facts owing
to the lateness of the discovery Of the
crime were necessarily meagre. War
rem Stanton, whose recent success in
1 the eccentric role of Jonas Herr!cE in
THE Soul of the Town" a., the Avon
| Theater, had lifted him from the ruck
of character actors, into The ranks of
the genius-endowed had shot and
Il 1T JokA nf ho
"Tasker's Girl" company, in her apart
ments a. THE Clydesdale," on West
Ninety-eighth Street The crime had
been committed between the hours OF
/ nine and ten the previous evening. but
it's discovery had been delayed until
an hour later, when Miss Thornton's
colcred maid, returning after an even
4 Ing out, had found the dead body of
her mistress on the drawing-room floor.
The elevator boy, however. had heard
the shot fired According to his reck-
oning the time was about nine forty
five or fifty He had taken Stanton to
Miss Thornton's apartment at about
nine o'clock. A few minutes after the
report of the pistol, he had seen him
descend the stairs and leave the house.
Careful search of the rooms had failed
to discover the weapon used. And this
was supposed to do away with the pos
sibility of suicide. Moreover, It was
| known that Stanton and Miss Thorn
ton had frequently uuarreled Of late.
More than once he had teen heard to
threaten her life. And, most conv.nc-
ing argument of all, he had fed.
These were the facts, hastily gath
cred, boldly stated: all the facts which
the article contained II seemed to
Hollis that there must certainly be
something more. He turned the page
and ran his eye up and down the col
umns, without reward. Then he looked
4 up and caught little old Joe Parrish g
grave gaze fixed upon him
There's nothing more, str" Hav-
| ing said it. the dresser seemed to hang
waiting on Hollis's comment.
"But-why-why, don't you see, the
young man stammered, TIT isn't
possible. After all, 1t isn't possible.
You know It isn't, Parrish" And then
he got up suddenly, with little short,
grim, hysterical laugh, and stood with
a nervous hand futtering uncertainty
about the brass ball final of the bed
post.
Il quite see, sir 1t isn't possible.
unless"
Unless what?"
Unless they've got the time wrong
sir"
Yes Hollis agreed Unless they've
got the time wrong. Which they
haven't" he added, after seconds
pause Which they haven't"
Its odd they haven't mentioned
$500" the old man began. but Hollis
interrupted him.
They're pack Of fools" he do
clared excitedly. mot to see how pro.
posterous 1t is. You know. and
know that at the hour they give there
why, everybody knows-thc com
pany, the orchestra, the stage hands
the eleven hundred applauding souls
in the audience, every solitary one OF
them, that at that hour Warren Stan
ton was on the stage OF the Avon
Theater, playing Jonas Herrtck, just
as he has been playing 1t every week
day night for the past month. It's an
alibi, Parrish; complete, an irrefat
able alibi"
The dresser appeared relieved. Fol-
Rrrt TINA ba hooapoa c0ngriniie M