Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1912-08-27
Unto This Last.

Unto This Last.
Betty Lumsden made up the fire care
fully, bent tenderly over the bed where
Deborah Remington lay; the heavy white
eyelids were closed and the lashes lay
dark on the cheeks that weer like sculp-
tured stone. Only for that breathing
long, regular and stertorous, 1t would
have seemed to any one looking at that
still figure that this was death. SO, with
out speech or movement, with only such
sign Of life as the breathing gave, or a
sudden occasional quickening of light in
the dull eyes, Mrs. Rimington had lain
ever since the night when Jack Riming
ton, by one. of those miraculous coin
cidences of real life that are so much
stranger than fiction, had stumbled on
that cottage during his mad bid for free
dom
She would sleep for hours now, or at
least she would lie with eyes clase shut
and Betty felt herself free to go her own
way for a while.
Betty drew the door softly behind her
and went through the kitchen to the front
door of the cottage. She had not been
free of the invalid's bedroom since the
morning. save for flying visits to Super
intendent William Vogel, at work in the
kitchen.
William the Silent has been living up
to his reputation during these days which
had elapsed since Rimington's recapture
but his eyes, so strangely pale and age
less, had been full of eloQuence. Their
irony and amused contempt had pierced
through to Betty's soul. Almost as plain
Iy as though he had accused her of it
she knew that he believed her to have
engineered her lovers abortive escape
and "bunged Itch by faith-as only
womenfolk can. 'Tain't your fault the
miserable wretch is not cold clay The
words spoke from his eyes. But today
he had spoken several times and of the
subject the girl always felt to be present
between them.
1t was of his words that Betty thought
now as she opened the door and looked
out on to the face of the moor.
"They'm caught tother chap, so il
seems. Caught him the day arter so
I'm told-thought like as not you know
that-trust female. An you'm by way
Of knowing what they'm like to get for
it,"
He had made significant slashing
movement in the air with his gnarled
right hand. and in spite of herself Betty
had shuddered.
Three dozen for Winch-as sure as
He III d S4HIei- ana richly he ~ ueSSlNS
it. sure that him do
He had enlarged on the enormity of
Winchs offerse-his brutal struggle with
the wardens. his mad, determined resist
ance in the face of overwhelming odds.
"As for tother''- He had broken off
with curious pursing UP Of his lips. and
Betty had been too proud to question him.
though she had been conscious of a sick
ening sinking of the heart.
70 Three dozen Betty Aeeded no eN-
PLANTATION of those dread words. But it
wasn't possible that Jack
A little beading of sweat started out on
her brow and upper lip at the thought
that had sprung into her mind She
stood there staring out before her with
eyes that took in no picture of the moor.
stretching ridge on ridge. gray and desc
late and mysterious in the frightening
twilight of the February afternoon.
The eternal vision of the iron cell had
been replaced by something more ghast-
" stilI-the triangle with its trapped
victim, that last surviving instrument
of torture this twentieth century knows
Three dozen! Her lips formed the
words mechanically. For this other des-
perado who had made his brutal attack
on the warders, yes; rough justice, no
doubt, but justice still But for Jack
IT wasn't possible!
The wild weather was rolling up over
the moor; rain that drove in gray,