Forest City press. (Forest City, Potter County, D.T. [S.D.]) 1883-19??, 1918-11-21
robbed him o. all his remaining

energy.
With no hatred III him, since
Arsene Lupin no longer lived,
with, no love, since Florence was
no more, he looked like a man
who had lost his last motive for
existence.
Twice his lips uttered the name
of Florence. Was he regretting
his friend9 Having reached the
last Of that appalling series of
crimes, was he imagining the sew
eral stages, each marked with a
corpse9 Was something like a
conscience making itself felt deep
down in that brute2 Or was it
not rather the sort of physical
torpor that numbs the stated
beast of prey, glutted with flesh,
drunk with blood, a torpor that is
almost voluptuousnesss
Nevertheless, he once more re-
peated Florencc's name and tears
rolled down his cheeks.
He lay long in this codndition,
gloomy and motionless; and
when, after taking a few sips of
his medicine, he went back to his
work, he did so mechanically,
with none of that gayety which
had made him hop on his legs and
set about his murder as though he
were going to a pleasure party.
He began by returning to the
bush from which Lupin had e
him emerge. Behind this bush,
between two trees, was a shelter
containing tools and arms, spades,
rakes, guns, and rolls of wire
rope.
Making several journeys, he
carried them to the we'll, intend
ing to throw them down it before
he went away. He next examined
every particle of the little mound
up which he had climbed, in order
to make sure that he was not
leaving the least trace of his pass
age.
He made a similar examination
of those parts of the lawn on
which he had stepped. except the
path leading to the we'll, the in
spection of which he kept for the
last. He brushed up the trodden
grass and carefully smoothed the
trampled earth.
He was obviously anxious and
seemed to be thinking of other
things, while at the same time me-
%chanically doing those things
which a murderer knows by force
of habit that it is wise to do.
One little incident seemed to
wake him up. A wounded swal-
low fell to the ground close by
where he stood. He stopped,
caught it, and crushed it in his
hands, kneading it like a scrap
of crumpled paper. And his eyes
shone with a savage delight as he
gazed at the bl~od that trickled
from the poor bird and Redeemed
his hands.
But, when he flung the shape
less body into a furze bush, he
saw on the spikes in the bush a
hair, a long, fair hair; and all his
depression returned at the men,
DRY of Florence.
He knelt in front of the ruined
'grotto. Then, breaking two sticks
of wood, he placed the pieces in
the form Of a cross under one of
the stones.
AS he was bending over, Q lit
tie looking glass slipped fl ,m his
waistcoat pocket and, striking a
pebble, broke. The sign of ill
luck made u great impression Oh
him. He cast a suspicious leak
around him and, shivering with
nervousness, as though he felt
threatened by the invisible pow
ers, he muttered:
"I'm afraid-I'm afraid. Let g
go away"
His watch now marked half
past four. He took his jacket
from the shrub on which he had
hung it, slipped his arms into the
sleeves, and put his hand in the
righthand outside pocket, where
he had placed the pocketbook
containing his papers:
"Hullo!" he said, in great sur