The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-11-25
CHAPTER XVIII.

cart.
 CHAPTER xxvI1L
 THE VOICE IN THE DARK.
 ~ ARBARA rested i'll in her cabin
 bed that night. Confused
 dreams troubled her. mingling
 familiar thoughts In kaleido- scopic confusion. dragging her from one tangle to another in a wearyins rapidity against which she struggled in vain. One thing ran through them all-the gold lacquer Buddha that had stood on the Sendai chest In her bed. room at the embassy. only it seemed to be also that lost image before which she had used to sit as child
 She had no feeling of awakening, but all at once the visions were gone and she lay open eyed. swinging to the movement of the sea, feeling sthe night to be very long. There came over her creeping oppression. sense of terror of the night. of its hidden mysteries and occult forces. The dark. ness seemed to be holding some dread. full. stolid. lethargic things that sprawl ed from horizon to horizon.
 A small. noiseless clock was hung beside the bed. She could see it's pale face in the light of the thick ground glass bulb that served as night lamp. It was nearly 4 o'clock.
 She twisted back the tawny brown surge of her hair. rose and dressed as hastily as she could in the iurchins space. Then she opened the door and yacht slammed to the cabin door and left her in darkness. She felt for the electric switch. but before she could find it another movement sent her reel ing against a stand. She threw out her arm to stay her fall and struck something.
 There was a clickir sound. q soft whir. and then the music of samisen filled the dark room. She realized that she had staggered against the phono- graph In the corner and that the shock had starred it's mechanism. Wincing. she groped her way to a chair and sat down. trembling
 The music died away. There was . pause. a sharp click. a curious confn- sion of sounds, and then, husky and f1lmy. a human voice:
 "Barbarai"
 She caught her hands to her throat, her blood chilling to ice. It was the voice of Austen Ware speaking. it seemed to her. from the world beyond. She crouched back. breathing fast and hard. while the voice went on in strange broken periods. threaded by . whir and clamor that seemed the noise of the wind outside.
 ''What is that I knocked over2 It's Duzzing. and wheels are turning in it. or is it the pain? Can't you stop it, Barbara? No; know you, aren't here really. I'm all alone. 1 must be light headed How stupid!"
 The strange truth came to her in a stab of realization. What she heard was no supernatural voice. In it's fall that night the phonograph's spring had been released. and the samisen record had registered also the delirious nut. terings of the dying man. She felt herself shuddering violently.
 'T can't go any farther. You-yOu have done it for me. Phil. It was the second blow. It seemed to crash right through"
 Barbara's heart was beating to burst ing. Austen. Austen" she whispered to herself. in an agony. "Teil me! Was it Phil? You can't know what you're sayingl"
 {. "No one must know it. The law would-no, no! What good would il do now? He's bad egg. but I--I was always proud of the family name. Barbara! Remember. 1t wasn't Phil! 1t wasn't Philip
 She fell on her knees, her hands clasping the arms of the chair. thrill ing to the truth beneath that pitiful denial. Phil. not Dauntt The man she had loved had no stain of blood on his soull She sobbed aloud. Witt the whir of the machinery there mixed a grating. scratching discord. as thougt an automaton had attempted to laugh
 How ridiculous it seems to die like this! Only this morning 1 was so near so near to what 1 wanted most. IL was your losing the iocket that check. mated me. Why couldn't 1 have found it instead of PhlY Did 1 tell you was there that day. Barbara-behind the shikiri. when you followed the Jap. anese girl into the house? 1 could see just what you were thinking. would never have told you the truth never"
 With faint cry Barbara dragged herself backward In the illusion ev. erything about her for the instant van- tshed The yachts walls had rolled away. She was on a gloomy hillside, and stricken man was speaking-con. fessing.
 (To Be Continued.) |