The Watertown weekly leader. [volume] (Watertown, Jefferson County, Wis.) 1912-1917, 1916-09-13
CHAPTER III
MRS. Morten."

elor rooms. Whitaker shut the hall
door and turned back YEARLY into his
livingroom. II was three in the morn
ing; his body ached with fatigue, yet
ne made no move toward his bedcham-
Der.
Picking his way across a floor lit
tered with aliases, charts, maps and
guide-boOks he went to the bathroom
and took a bottle of choral from the
medicine closet.
What he took brought him three
hours of oblivion. He rose at eight,
ordered his breakfast up by telephone,
bathed and dressed. When the tray
came up. his mail came with it. Among
others there was one letter in which
he read:
Dear Hugh: / can call you that, now,
because you're Peters dearest friend and
therefore mine and the proof of that is
that I'm telling you first of all of our
great happiness. Peter and l found out
that we loved one another only yesterday,
so we're going to be married the first OF
June and -
Whitaker read no more. He could
guess the rest, and for the moment
he felt too sick man to go through
to the end. Indeed, the words were
blurring and running together beneath
his gaze.
After long time he put the letter
aside absent-mindedly swallowed
cup of lukewarm coffee and rose from
an otherwise untasted meal.
'That settles that, of course" he
said quietly. and it means I've got
to hustle to get ahead of Peter"
Whitaker packed handbag with
few essentials, not forgetting the bottle
of choral. BE yrs not yet quite sure
what ne meant to do after he had de-
finitely put himself out of Peter Stark's
sphere of influence, but he hadn't much
doubt that the drug was destined to
play most important part in the ulti-
mate solution, and would as readily
have thought of leaving it behind as
of going without toothbrush or rail
way fare.
Leaving the bag in the parcels-room
at the Grand Central Station he went
downtown to his office. Happily his
partner, Drummond, was out of town
for the day. He worked expeditiously,
having no callers until just before he
was ready to leave. Then he was
obliged to admit one who desired to
make q settlement He took Whitaker's
receipt for the payment in cash, leay-
ing behind him fifteen one-hundred-
dollar notes. Whitaker drew his per-
Sonal check for the right amount and
left it with a memorandum under the
paper-weight on Drummonds desk;
put a match TO a shredded pile of per-
SonaI correspondence in the fireplace;
and caught Il train at the Grand Cen
trail at one-three.
Not until the cars were in motion did
he experience any sense of security
from Peter Stark. He had been ap-
prehensive until that moment of some
unforeseen move on the part of his
friend; Peter was capable of wide but
sure casts of intuition on occasion,
especially where his affections were
touched. But now Whitaker felt free,
free to abandon himself to meditative
brain like a delirium-horror of him.
self, of his morbid flesh, of that mort
bund body unfit to sheathe the clean
fire of life.
At about four o'clock the train
stopped to drop tae dining-car. Wholly
swayed by blind impulse Whitaker got
Yp, took his handbag and left the car.
On the statioE platform he found
himself pelted by a pouring rain. He
imprisoned himself in the body of an
aged and decrepit four-wheeler, and
as they rocked and crawled away, the
blind windows wept increasingly. and
Increasingly the rain drummed the
long roll on the roof.
In time they stopped before
rambling structure whose weather
boarded facade, white with haKins
paint, bore the legend: Commercial
House" Whitaker carried his handbag
up the steps and across the rain-swept
veranda into dim. cavernous hall.
A cubicle fenced off in one corner
formed the office proper. Whitaker
waited by the desk, gauDt weary
man. hagridden by fear There was in
his mind desolate picture of the room
upstairs when he-hiS soul: the inn
perishable essence of himself-should
have finished with it.
At his elbow lay the hotel register,
open at page neatly headed with a
date in red ink. Whitaker registered:
but two-thirds of his name was all he
entered when it came to Whitaker"
his pen paused and passed on to write
"Phiiadelphia" in the residence col
umn.
The thought came to him that he
must be careful to obliterate all laun-
dry marks on his clothing.
In his own good time the clerk ap-
peared. His welcome was an indiffer-
ent nod and glance at the register
which seemed unaccountably to mod
crate his apathy.
Mr. s!orton-uh?" he inquired.