The Idaho Springs siftings-news., 1913-02-08
CooXe1GH[ I2X. 4 c cHFcZLy7c s ca

weak and wasted, and with as little
brains as sinew. So, with enough
none for a new mast and sail, we
had put ntm and his dory ashore at
our first landing, and had forthwith
forgotten him.
acLeDd had been inclined to con-
tinue he search, but l argued that
any further efforts in that direction
would be only a waste of time. The
craft We were lookingfor might have
come from any one OF a thousand
places and returned to any one of
thousand more. Some more effective,
general and far-reaching steps must
be taken, | held, and taken quickly.
Indeed felt now that to keep secret
longer the conspiracy, as indicated in
those mystic letters. would be little
short OF criminal. The aid OF the po-
lice and the press must be invoked at
once, and nothing left undone to trace
the crime to its source
But my first and most onerous task
was to acquaint Evelyn Grayson with
the facts as I knew them. How
shrank from that duty is beyond any
thing | can put into words. ! know
1t would have been far easier for me
to have carried her definite news of
her uncle's death. What l had to
tell was horrible in its stark obscurity.
And yet, if | could have foreseen just
what was to follow, l might have
spared myself a goodly share Of dis
tress.
I imagined I knew Evelyn Grayson,
before this. I thought l had sounded
the protundtes OF her fortitude and
courage on the night that spread be-
fore her and read with her that third
and last letter. But my fancy did her
an injustice. She was even more Of
a woman than I dreamed.
Recently | chanced upon these lines
by Thomas Dunn English. which must
have been inspired by such a one as
she:
So much Is clear,
Though little dangers they may fear,
When greater perils men environ.
Then women show a front of iron,
And. gentle In their manner. they
Do bold things in q quiet way.
Evelyn Grayson did bold thing In
a quiet way that morning. l have MOI
yet forgotten how marble white SHE
was and yet how bravely she came
with springing step and lifted chin
and fearless eyes. 1 had waited hel
coming in the music room, with Its
score of reminders of happy evenings
In which he had participated. The
chair he usually chose. in the corner
near the great bow window against
which the east wind was now driving
the rain in gusty splashes, took on
pathos which moved me to weakness
The Baudelaire lyric, spread open
PACED upon the music rack of the pi'
ano, stirred memories scarcely less
narrowing. A photograph, an ash
tray, a paper knife, all commonplace
objects OF themselves. but SO linked
to him by association, became, sud
denly, instruments Of emotional tor
ture.
In this environment, under these
influences, l rose to meet her, word
less. Yet my expression and attitude
must have spoken loudly enough to
confirm the dread that was in her
heart, for even before she spoke | was
sure that she knew. And then she
had taken my two outstretched hands
in hers and raised her brave eyes to
mine, and low-voiced. but sure and
tremorless. was saying:
81 feared it, Philip. From the very
first, feared It,"
And when l told her all, to the
smallest detail, 1t was as though she
the recital had been for me a very
painful confession OF my own incom-
petence, and its conclusion LETT me
more nervously unstrung than at any
time since the night of the strange
catastrophe. With what heroic fortl-
tude she heard the narrative may best
be indicated by the statement that
throughout it all she sat calmly atten-
tive, but unquestioning, and with no
sign of emotion beyond her continued
pallor and a recurrent tensing of her
small white hands. At the end l
leaned forward and with left elbow on
knee rested my forehead in my palm.
She sat beside me on the same settee; ;
and now she drew closer, and laying
her cool right hand over my own dis
engaged one, began stroking my hair
with her left. For full minute she
said nothing. Then, in soothing &C
cents:
81 am glad you didn't find the boat.
That means he is on it If you had
found 1t, 1t would have been some or
dinary thing having no connection
with this affair, whatever"
1t was odd reasoning, but very fem
inine, and in an esoteric way, forceful.
But you made one mistake, Philip,
she went on. "You should not have
let that fisherman, Peter Johnson, go.
At this raised my head and regard
ed her with something like astonish'
ment.
"He was one Of them" she explained
in tone of conviction.
How can you say that?" l asked
a little nettled 1t ANNOYED me that