The Washington herald., 1921-05-01
Young Love Finds the
Way in the Shadow of an
Old Mans Tragedy.

Y the green switch targets had shift
ed from green to red In the semaphore
arms at the North Branch bridge while
we watched over John Benedicts dead
body; and yet there had been somthing
balefuIly ominous in the sudden fash Of
the lanterns from emerald to ruby as We
stood there in the storm. gazing at each
other with the stupid astonishment OF
people who stumble upon death in the
midst of life. So mechanical did the op-
GRAFTON appear. however. 50 removed
from human impulse. that we never
thought to associate 1t with the drama
of which IT blinked until circumstances
showed US into q corner from which We
had to grope back through every instant
of those portentous moments. Then 1t
was not we, but Kenneth Winnerly, who
found its significance in the chain of
events that began for US when they
ended for John Benedict
The Sunset Trail Limited had gone by
in a swirl of snow as 1 passed the gate
of the Benedict plant on Carpenter ave-
nue., a square distant from the station,
and 1 knew that I had time enough to
reach the local that follows the other
train out of the terminal beyond the
bridge I had been coaching the Wednes-
day evening drama class at the Carpen-
ter settlement. and left in good season.
since there is no later direct train to
Glenwood. but 1 remembered. as 1 came
by Deane street, that Rita Kubal had
told me that Mrs. Foran was dead I
had not known her even as well as her
husband, whom had met once in q while
in my comings and. goings, for she was .
strange, furtive creature, resenting her
neighbors quite much as she resented
us settlement helpers. The Forans had
lived in almost defiant seclusion, child
less and friendIess. The thought Of the
old mans loneliness in his grief rather
than any feeling of acquaintanceship
with him had turned me down to the
shack by the river.
Had 1 not known the neighborhood
quite as well I knew Glenwood, where
we Hagars had lived since Natalie and
were children, I might have drawn back
in terror from the darkness of Doane
street Carpenter avenue Is forbidding
,nough' on those nights when the Bene-
dict plant Is plunged into darkness. but
occasional motor and street cars pass,
and there are always the broad bands of
light from the settlement windows and
the narrow stream from the watchman's
box at the gate of the plant. Doane
street. however. plunging through lumber
yards to end at the river, is q blind alley
so unlighted that only the whiteness of
the whirling snow guided me toward the
Foran's shack.
Through one Of the windows. as
came abreast Of the house, I saw the
gleam of tapers. 1 tried the door and
found 1t locked. I knocked upon it, but
no one answered. I turned away with
the thought that Mrs. Foran had in DEATH
as she had in life. kept out Of the Ntle
world OF her neighborhood. II was not
the ways of the poor. and, since comrade-
-
of poverty. I sighed over the pathos OF
the old man who denied 1t to himself
while he brooded over his dead.
All thought of the Forans went from
my mind, swept like flashes in the grow
ing gale, however, as 1 went down the
long platform of the railroad station.
The Carpenter station is deserted at
niEhtfall and used only by work belated
commuters. who signal the few trains
that stop there. With a single oil Ian
tern hanging before it. the place has the
aspect of some little way station in the
West. for all it is set in the heart of a
city's factory district. In the three years
of my work at Carpenter house 1 had
come to know it too well to regard 1t
with fear and 1 had swung well down
the full length OF the platform before 1
glimpsed a scene which pierced me with
cold beyond the storm.
On the railroad toward the bridge .
man bent over a huddled heap. Some
thing within me kept saying that the
heap was a dead man. 1t said. too. al
though tried to put away the thought
that the scene was not a casual accident.
Tragedy brooded too near to be denied.
But. with all my forebodings, 1 was not
ready for my part. For. when 1 steeled
myself to step from the platform and go
down the track, the STOPPING man turned
toward me. l was near enough to touch
Justin Terry before could see his face.
Afterward it seemed strange to me that
never questioned his presence there any
more than he questioned mine. But whe n
he said. Don't look. Edith. It's Bene-
dict" an icy hand closed over my heart
l stood. stupidity staring. while the sema-
phore signal lights changed color.
rs he-dead?"
Yes"
'How?'
7 don't know. The Sunset Trail struck
him. suppose"
What can I dor
60 back to the gate and call the
watchman. can't leave him here. We
must get him on before the local comes"
sped down to the street and stumbled
on through the snow toward the ribbon
of light at the watch box. John Bene.
oiSI ueao-hilleo- Only tnose OF US Wno
had worked in the shadow of his great
plant could be numbed by his passing
1t was as IL the ship engines had stopped
in the night without warning. For Ben.
edict, ruthless. rugged. dominated the
district as monarch. Upon him de-
pended lives and livelihoods. Ever sine,
l had come to Carpenter house 1 hat
been forced into admiration of the man.
energy even as had held hatred of hi,
means and methods of using It. Onl,
tonight the hatred had famed anew