The Washington herald., 1913-12-28

the darkness. still half eXpeCtant. Then
the tension became more than l could
endure. l actually crept forward a step
of two. still peering blindly through the
darkness, still listening and waiting.
Then l caught my breath with a sud
den new suspicion, with a quick fear that
crashed bulletlike through the film of
consciousness. 1t was followed by a
sickening sense of shock, amounting al
most to physical nausea.
once more raised the fashlight- This
time my hand shook perceptibly as l
turned the electric ray directly in front
of me. let the minute circle OF ilumina-
ton arrow through the darkness, direct
to the white face that seemed to be await
ing it. Then let it come to a rest
remember falling back a step or two.
1 may have called out, but of that l am
not sure. Yet OF one thing / was only
too certain. There before me sat Anthony
Gubtill. He was quite dead.
My first feeling was not altogether one
of terror. 1t was accompanied by a
surge of Indignation at the injustice, at
the brutality, of it all.
l moved toward the dead man, forti-
fed by the knowledge of a vast new OBJ
legation. 1t was only after l had exam
ined the face for the second time and
seen how death had been caused by a
cruelty heavy blow dealt by some blunt
instrument, that the enormity of my
own intrusion into that house Of horror
came home to me. l felt a sudden need
for light, for SOLDERING and rationalizing
light Even the ticking from the brazen-
faced clock had become something phan-
tasmal and unnerving
l groped feverishly and blindly about
in search of an electric switch button.
Then, Of a sudden, l stopped again, my
movement arrested by a sound.
1 knew, as I stood and listened. that it
was only the purr OF an automobile, faint
and muffied, from the street outside. But
II suddenly brought home to me the
awkwardness of my own position. To be
found in that house, or even to be seen
leaving II, was no longer a desirable
thing. And thought came back at a
bound to the porcelain in my pocket. I
recalled the old-time rivalry between the
dead man and myself for THE Flame.
L recalled the details of my advent be-
tween those walls where 1 stood And
my blood went cold. 1t was not a mat
ter of awkwardness; IL was matter of
peril. For who, l again asked myself,
would believe story so absurd, or ac-
cept an excuse so eXtravagant?
The clock licked on accusingly. The
sound of the automobile stopped. I had
Just noticed this, with much relief, when
the thud of a quietly closed door came
to my startled ears. Then came the muir
muir Of voices. There was no longer any
doubt about the matter. A motor had
come to the door and from II certain
persons had entered the house.
crept to the library and listened. Then
tiptoed back and closed the door Of the
inner room. 1 felt more secure with even
half-inch panel between me and what
that inner room held.
Then 1 listened. 1 began to hear the
padded tread of feet Then came the
sound OF another opened door and then
the snap OF a light switch. There was
nothing secret about the new invasion. 1
knew, as shrank behind a high-backed
library chair, that the front of the house
was already illuminated
Then came the sound of calling voi-e.
apparently from the head of the stairs. 1t
was a cautious and carefully modulated
voice; 1 took 1t sor that Of a young man
Of about twenty. -. ...
is that you, Caddy?"
Then came a silence.
Il say, is that you, Orrie? was de-
manded in a somewhat somnolent stage
whisper. There was something strangely
reassuring in that commonplace boyish
voice. Anthony GubtiIl, 1 knew, had no
immediate family. 1 could vaguely re-
member. however. some talk of Canadian
nephew and niece who had at times viz
tied with him