The Tupelo journal., 1915-10-22

It was two now-it was three In the
morning. 1t began to grow light. 1t
was daylight when the sound of the
automobile was heard. 1t stopped be-
fore the house and Austin conducted
Daisy up to the door.
Robert stood on the threshold, fac
ing them.
Daisy sprang toward him, and re-
coiled from the look on his face.
You did not expect m till tomor-
row." he said grimly.
Robert, dear. there was an acci-
dent"
Where are the rest?"
I'VE saw them home by eleven and
were on the way back when the acci-
dent"
I'll talk to you, Clark" said Rob
ert. What have you to say. you
thief, you"
Listen, Robert; you are mistaken.
The car broke down, and"
You lie! You planned this, think
ing I would not be home. have your
letter to my wife, you curt"
Whatever you have to say can be
said when we are alone, not in front
of your wife"
Daisy stared, horror-stricken, at the
pair. Had Robert no reason left. She
ran to him again, she tried to speak.
She clasped her arms about him. He
flung her, staggering. away.
I'm ready to meet you when and
where you will, but l will no nnlp you
to humiliate your wife, cried Austin.
Meanwhile I'll take the car back to
the garage"
"Tll be ready for you when you re-
turn" cried Robert wildly.
Daisy saw Austin driving away.
She shrank from her husband In in
creasing fear, clutching the crying
child. Would he never believe? He
was pacing the porch like a mailman,
oblivious Of her presence. She tried
to enter the house. The door had
been locked by Susan, ~ensconced grim
ly behind the curtains, her thin lips.
dropping at the corners, set in a sar-
donic smile.
Presently the sound Of footsteps was
heard. It was Austin returning. At
the sight Of him Robert seemed to
stiffen into a statue.
Austin came toward them.
See here" he began more easily.
III you'fl only let me explain. 1t was
an"
With an inarticulate cry Robert
pulled a revolver from his pocket and
fired. Austin staggered and dropped.
The ball had pierced his heart.
For an instant Daisy stared speech.
lessly at the murderer; the next she
snatched up the child and ran wildly
along the road into the marshes.
She ran, gasping and sobbing, till
she had left the village far behind
her. And day came up, lurid and
scorching, and the sur beat down on
her. She ran till she could go no
farther. The child, which had ceased
to cry, had become a dead weight in
her arms.
At last, looking about her, she saw
only the marsh and forest, and, far in
the distance, a little blur against the
ga, Seabury.
And she realized that all this had
been prepared for her, and that ii
was part of the same evil thing which
had entered her life that afternoon
when she wrenched her foot in the
elevator. Nothing remained now-ex.
cept death.
She sank down by the roadside.
Vaguely she was aware that the leafy
curtain of trees across the way con.
cealed a little cottage. The pres.
ence Of humanity impelied her once
more to rise. She would 60 down to
the sea and end their two lives there.
far from all eyes. She rose.
A man was coming out of the cot.
tage. He was approaching her. He
stood before her and placed his hands
on her shoulders. She looked into the
face Of William Wright.
At a glance he understood that the
same Nemesis had followed her.
There was no need for questioning
He had seen Austin pass in his motor
car the day before, and he had read
Daisy's and Roberts names among
those Of the newly arrived.
Come with me. My mother Is wait.
ing to welcome you" he said. 4
He led her into the cottage.
e fig