The Washington times., 1913-03-18
THE DESTROYING. ANGEL
By Louis Joseph Vance @@g@@! Louis Joseph ys@g2-

4 She drew a deep breath. stepped back
| without removing her gaze from his
face, then with gesture OF helplessness
took UP her lamp.
Good night. Hugh"
Good night he replied, turning
| away to find his own lamp.
But when he turned back she was still
hesitating in the doorway. He lifted
inquiring brows.
Hugh"
"Yes?'
II trust you. Be faithful, dear"
THANK, you," he returned. not with
out flavor of bitterness. "Tll try to be.
Good night"
She disappeared. The light Of her
lamp faded, flickering in the draft OF
the hall, stenciled the wall with its
evanescent caricature Of the balustrade,
and was no longer visible.
"Hughi' her voice rang from the up
per floor.
straction. and replied inquiringly.
lyon won't forget to lock the door,
He swore violently beneath his breath;
controlled his temper, and Responded
pleasantly: Certainly not ..,,
J Then he shut the OUTSIDE door Win
..If this be marriagew He smiled his
twisted smile, laughed a little quietly,
and became again his normal; good
| natured self. If little unusually pre-
occupied. ,u,
leaving the kitchen light turned low,
| he went to his own room. ana, as on
fha preyious night, threw himself upon
the bed without undressing; put 'hiS
time with no thought OF sleep.
Indeed. he had no expectation OF
| closing his eyes in slumber before tne
next night, at the earliest, ne hao 10
| Intention of anything other tnan Az
| attempt to swim to the nearesd an, raau
worked upon by his emotions, that plan
vbich had during the afternoon sug-
gested itself, been thoroughly conslo-
cred. rejected as too desperately Dan
geroue. and then reconsidered in the
| iiSht OF their only possible chance of
| escape at any reasonably early GATE;
| began to assume deceptive guIse OF
feasibility. "a.
| perils: the tides that swept through
| that funnel-shaped channel were un-
| questionably heavy; heavier than even
| SO strong a swimmer as he should De
called upon to engage; the chances OF
being swept out to S sea Ii.,I 70 Ihe IS south his
vision. The slightest error in Judgment:
l the least miscalculation of the turn OF
luck, by leaving the house shortly
| the tide, and he was as good as lost
| On the other hand, with little good
| after the moonrise. he should be able
| to catch the tide just as it was near
/ ing high water. Allowing II to swing
him northwest until 1t fulled, ne
ought to be a third of the way across
| OF the distance before it turned sea-
| ward again. And the distance was only
| three miles or so.
| And the situation on the island had
| grown uncomfortable. He doubted his
strength 10 stand the torment and the
provocation of another day.
| Allow an hour and a half for the
| swim-say, two; another hour to find a
boat; another 10 row or sail back;
four hours; he should be back upon
the island before early twilight, even
| IL delayed.
Surely no harm could come 10 her in
that time, surely he ought to be able
TO reckon on her sleeping through his
! absence. worn down by the stress of
the days emotions as she must GER
tainly be- True he had given her to
understand he would not leave her;
but she need not know until his return,
and then his success would have earn
ed him forgiveness.
An hour dragged out its WEAR length.
and the half OF another while he rea-
soned with himself drugginy his con-
science with sophistry an1 his judgment
with trust in his sucky star. In al 'rat
above him; and for his part he lay quite
unstirring, his whole body relaxed. Test
, ing against the hour - iriai {" colne.
1nsensibly the windows of his room.
that looked eastward, filled with the
pale spectral promise of the waning
moon.
He rose, with infinite precaution
against making any noise. and looked
out. The night was no less placid than
the day had been. The ruins of his
three beacons were like red, winking
eyes In the black face of the island.
Beyond them the sky was like dome
Of crystal, silvery green. And as he
looked an edge of silver shonc OH the
distant rim of the waters; and then the
moon misshapen. wizened and darkling,
heaved sluggishly up from the deeps.
Slowly, on tiptoes, Whitaker stole
toward the door, out into the hall; at
the foot Of the stairs he paused for
several minutes. listening with every
nerve tense and straining: he fancied
he could just barely detect the slow,