The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser. (Upper Marlborough, Md.) 1882-1925, 1915-04-09
CHAPTER XIV.
The Telegram.

The Telegram.
This was the document and these
the words which Deborah, widow OF
the man thus doubly denounced. had
been given to read by the father OF
the writer, in the darkened room which
had been and still was to her, an abode
of brooding thought and unfathomable
mystery.
No wonder that during its reading
more than one exclamation Of terror
and dismay escaped her. There were
so many reasons for believing this
record to be an absolute relation Of
the truth.
Incoherent phrases which had fallen
from those long-closed lips took on
new meaning with this unveiling Of
an unknown past Repugnances for
which she could not account in those
old days, she now saw explained. He
would never, even In passing. give
look at the ruin on the bluff. SO attrac-
tive to every eye but his own. AS for
entering its gates--she had never
dared so much as to ask him to do SO,
Then the watch! Deborah knew we'll
that watch. She had often asked him
by what stroke of luck he had got so
fine timepiece. God! was her mind
veering back to her old idea as to his
responsibility for the crime com.
mitted in Dark Hollow? Yes; she could
not help it. Denial from a monster
like this-a man who with such memo
nva
to wife and child, with some gay and
confused story OF great stroke In
speculation which had brought him
in the price of the tavern it had long
been his ambition to own-what was
denial from such lips worth? The
Judge was right. Oliver-whose in
genuous story had restored his image
to her mind. with some Of its old
graces-had been the victim Of circum-
stances and not John Scoville.
Her thoughts had reached this stage
and her hand, in obedience to the new
mood. was lightly rufiing up the pages
before her, when she felt light touch
on her shoulder and turned with a
start.
The Judge was at her back. How
long he had stood there she did not
know, nor did he say, but when upon
feeling his hand upon her shoulder she
turned, he was there; and while his
lips failed to speak, his eyes were elo-
quent and their question single and i'm
perative
What do you think of him now?"
they seemed to ask. and rising to her
feet, she met him with smile. CHASTITY
perhaps with the lividness of the
shadows through which she had been
cropping, but encouraging withal and
soothing beyond measure to his anx-
ious and harassed soul.
"Oliver is innocent" she declared,
turning once more to lay her hand
upon the sheets containing his naive
confession. "The bastard who could
shoot his host for plunder Is capable of
a second crime holding out a similar
inducement. Nothing now will ever
make me connect Oliver with the
crime at the bridge. AS you said, ne
was simply near enough the hollow to
toss into 1t the stick he had been
whiting am his advocate from this
minute"
Her eyes were still resting mechan-
ically upon that last page lying spread
out before her, and she did not OBJ
serve in its full glcry the first CLEAN
of triumphant Joy which, in all prob
ability, Judge Ostrander's countenance
had shown in years. Nor did he see.
in the glad confusion of the moment.
the quick shudder with which she lift.
ed her trembling hand away from
those papers and looked up. squarely
at last, into his transf1gured visage.
Mrs Scovi.le, love my boy. T.
what's that?"
The front doorbell was ringing.