Omaha daily bee., 1919-07-13

J.
fusion. ...
Because" the coroner insisted
gently.
Because my husband was not as
a rule communicative about his bust
ness affairs" answered the witness,
raising her chin with faint touch
of defiance. HE did not-did not
think they would interest me, and as
a rule referred to them as little as
possible. That is why l was rather
surprised when he told me that he
had sent Mr.. Marlowe to Southamp-
ton to bring back some important
information from a. man who was
leaving for Paris by the next days
boat. He said that Mr.. Marlowe
could do it quite easily if he had no
accident He said that he had start
ed in the car, and then walked back
home a mile or SO, and felt all the
better for it,"
Did he say any more?
Nothing, as we'll as | remember"
the witness said. 81 was very sleepy,
and l dropped off again in a few
moments. | just rememb:: my hus.
band turning his light out and that
is all. | never saw him alive again"
"And you heard nothing in the
night?"
No; I never woke until my maid
brought my tea in the morning at
7 o'clock. She closed the door lead
ing to my husbands room, as she
always did, and I supposed him to
be still there's He always needed
a great deal of sleep. ~ sometimes
slept until quite late in the morn
ing. l had breakfast in my sitting
room. 1t was about 10 when heard
that my husbands body had been
found" The witness dropped her
head and silently waited for her
dismissal.
But it was not to be yet.
Mrs. Henderson," The coroner's
voice was sympathetic, but it had
hint of flrmness in it now "The
question | am going to put to you
must, in these sad circumstances, be
painful one; but it is my duty to
ask 1t. Is it the fact that your re-
lations with your late husband had
not been, for some time past, rela-
tons of mutual affection and con-
fidence? Is it the fact that there
was an arrangement between your"
The lady drew herself up again
and faced her questioner, the color
rising in her cheeks. IF that ques-
ton is necessary" she said with cold
distinctness, II will answer it so that
there shall be no misunderstanding.
During the last few months of my
husbands life his attitude towards
me had given me great enxiety and
sorrow. He had changed towards
me; he had become very reserved
and seemed mistrustful l saw much
less of him than before; he seemed
to prefer to be alone. | can give
no explanation at all of the change.
l tried to work against it; I did
all | could with justice to my own
dignity, as l thought. Something
was between us, did not know
what, and he never told me. Ny
own obstinate pride prevented me
from asking what it was in so many
words; only made point of being
to him exactly as I had always been,
so far as he would allow me. I sup
pose | shall never know now what
it was" The witness, whose voice
trembled in spite of her self-control,
over the last few sentences, drew
down her veil when she had said
this, and stood erect and quiet.
One Of the jury asked question,
not without obvious hesitation
Then was there never anything of
the nature of what they call words
between you and your husband,
ma'am?"
Never" The word was color
lessly spoken; but everyone felt that
a Grass misunderstanding of the pos
sibllities of conduct in the case of
person like Mrs. Henderson had
been visited with some severity
Did she know, the coroner asked,
of any other matter which might
have been preying upon her hus-
bands mind recently?
Mrs. Henderson knew of none
whatever. The coroner intimated
that her ordeal was at an end, and
the yelled lady made her way to
the door, The general attention,
which followed her for a few mo-
ments, was now eagerly directed
upon Martin, whom the coroner
had proceeded to call.
T. ,,-o-
appeared at the doorway, and edged
his way into the great room. But
he did not look at Martin. He was
observing the well-balanced figure
that came quickly toward him along
an opening path in the crowd, and
his eye was gloomy. He started,
as he stood aside from the door
with a slight bow, to hear Mrs.
Henderson address him in low
voice. He followed her a pace or
two into the hall.
II wanted to ask you" she said
in voice now weak and oddly
broken, IF you would give me your
arm part of the way to the house.
| could not see my uncle near the
door, and I suddenly felt rather
faint. * l shall be better in
the air. No, no! l cannot
stay here-please, Mr.. Trent!" she
said, as he began to make an OBJ
vious suggestion. Il must go to
the house" Her hand frightened
momentarily on his arm as if, for
all her weakness, she could drag
him from the place; then again she
leaned heavily upon it, and with that
support, and with bent head. she
walked -owly from the hotel and
along the oak-shaded path toward
White Gables.
Trent went in silence, his thoughts
whir1ing. dancing insanely to a
chorus of Fool! fool!' All that he
alone knew, all that he guessed and
s,1snected of this affair rushed,