The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-06-13

AND DID NOT KNOW THE MAN.
whose agency found myself unable
to conceive. had neither the wit nor
the experience to untangle this con-
fused web.
And so the afternoon passed.
With the coming on Of night my
mood changed. I wanted air, move
ment. The closeness Of my rooms had
become unbearable. AS soon as the
lamps were lit in the street started
out, and went-toward the cemetery.
1t was cold night, and there were
but few people in the streets. On the
boulevard / met nobody. AS 1 neared
the cemetery / passed one man; other
wise was to all appearance alone on
this remote avenue. The effect was
sinister, or my mood made it so. Yet
I did not hasten my steps-the hours
till midnight had to be lived through
in some way, and why not in this?
The cemetery gates were shut. This
I had expected, but / did not need to
enter the grounds to have view of
Adelaide's grave. The Cumberland lot
occupied a knoll in close proximity II
the fence, and my only intention had
been to pass this spot and cast one
look within in memory of Adelaide.
To reach the place, however, l had to
turn a corner, and on doing so I saw
good reason, as 1 thought, for not car
rying out my intention at this especial
time
Some mani could not recognize him
from where I stood, had forestalled
me. Though the night was a dark
one, sufficient light shone from the
scattered lamps on the opposite side OF
the way for me to discern his intent
figure, crouching against the iron bars
and gazing with an intentneSs which
made him entirely oblivious of my
presence at the very spot and on the
very grave which had been the end of
my own pilgrimage. So motionless he
stood and so motionlesS L myself be-
came at this unexpected and signifi-
cant sight that 1 presently imagined /
could hear his signs in the dread quiet
into which the whole scene had sunk.
Grief deeper than mine spoke in
those labOring breaths. Adelaide was
mourned by some one as 1 for all my
remOrse could never mourn her.
And did not know the man.
Was not this strange enough to rouse
my wonder?
I thought so and was on the point
Of satisfying this wonder by quick
advance upon this stranger when
there happened an uncanny thing
which held me in check from sheer
establishment. 1 was so placed in ref
erence to one of the street lamps l
have already mentioned that my shad-
ow fell before me plainly along the
snow. This had not attracted my at
tention until at the point of moving j
cast my eyes down and saw two shad-
Cws where only one should be.
AS 1 had heard no one behind me
and had supposed myself entirely
alone with the man absorbed in con-
temptation of Adelaide's grave I ex-
perienced q curious sensation, which,
without being fear, held me still for a
moment, with my eyes on this second
shadow. It did not move any more
than mine did This was significant,
and 1 turned
A man stood at my back-not look
ing at me, but at the fellow in front
of US. A quiet Hush" sounded in
my ear. and again I stood still, but
only for an instant
The man at the fence, aroused by
my movement perhaps, had turned
and, seeing our two figures, started to
fly in the opposite direction. Instinc-
lively / darted forward in pursuit, but
was soon passed by the man behind
me. This caused me to slacken, for I
had recognized this latter as he flew
by as Sweetwater. the detective, and
knew that he would do this work bet
ter than myself.
But 1 recSxoned without my host.
He went only as far as the spot where
the man had been standing When in
my establishment I advanced upon
him there he wheeled about quite nat
urally in my direction and. accosting
me by name, remarked in his genial |
offhand manner:
There is no need Tor us to tire our |
legs in chase after that man. know |
him well enough
land who / began
- HNHiNoA dLS "Clcu luts Hc
light was now in our faces and I had |
a perfect view of his. It's expression |
quite disarmed me, but I knew, as well |
as If he had spoken, that should re-
ceive no other reply to my half formed |
question.
Are you going back into town. he |
asked, as l paused and looked down |
at the umbrella swinging in his hand. |
L was sure that he had not held this |
umbrella when he started by me on |
the run. IF so, will you allow me to |
walk beside you for little way?'
1 could not refuse him: besides. |
was not sure that l wanted to. You
are quite welcome" said |, and again
cast my eye at the umbrella.
"You are wondering where 1 go |
this" he remarked, looking down at ii |
in his turn. II found it leaning against |
the fence. 1t gives me all the clew |
need to our feet footed friend. Mr.. |
Ranelagh, will you credit me with |
good intentions if / ask a question or
two which you may or may not bel
willing to answer" y