Atlanta tri-weekly journal. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1920-19??, 1923-04-05

TITS voice trailed on. In the stiffness,
II David sat, touching with tender, trem-
ulous fingers what might be Dick last
message, and gazing at the picture in his uni
form. He knew what they all thought, that
Dick was dead and that he held his final
words in his hand, but his militant old spirit
refused to accept that silent verdict. Dick
might be dead to them, but he was living. He
looked around the room defantly, resentfully.
OF all of them he was the only one to have
faith, and he was bound to chair. He knew
them. They would sit down supinely and
grieve, while time passed and Dick fought his
battle alone.
No, by God, he would not be bound to a
chair. He raised himself and stood swaying
on his shaking legs.
you've given up" he said scornfully.
"You make few days search, and then you
say he's dead. I'm going out there myself
and I'll make search
He collapsed into his chair again, and
looked at them with ashamed, appealing eyes.
Bassett was the first to break the silence,
speaking in carefully emotionless tone
Il haven't given up for minute. I've
given up the search because he's beyond find
ing just now Either he's got away, or he is
beyond help We have to go on the
hypothesis that he got away, and in that case
sooner or later you'll hear from him. He's
bound to remember you in time. The worst
thing is this charge against him.
He never killed Howard Lucas" David
said, in tone of conviction. Harrison, read
Mr.. Bassett my statement to you ="
Bassett took the statement home with him
that night, and studied it carefully. 1t ex-
planned a great deal that had puzzled him be-
fore: Mrs. Wasson's story and pavids arrival
at the mountain cabin. But most of all it ex-
planned why the Thorwald woman had sent
him after Dick. She knew then, in spite of
her protests to David. that Jud Clark had
not killed Lucas.
He paced the floor for an hour or two, sunk
in thought, and then unlocked desk drawer
and took out his bank book. He had saved
little money. Not much but it would carry
him over if he couldn't get another leave of
absence. He thought, as he put the book
away and prepared for bed, that it was
small price to pay for finding Clifton Hines
and saving his own soul.
Dick had written his note, and placed 1t
where Bassett would be certain to see it. Then
he found his horse and led him for the first
half mile or so of level ground before the trail
began to descend. He mounted there, for he
knew the animal could find its way in the
darkness where he could not.
He felt no WEAKNESS and no hunger, al
though he had neither slept nor eaten for
thirty-odd hours, and as contrasted with the
night before, his head was clear. He was able
to start train of thought and to follow 1t
through consecutively for the first time in
hours. Thought, however, was easier than
realization. And to add to this perplexity, he
struggled to place Bassett and failed entirely.
He remained mysterious and Incompetent
sive figure, beginning and ending with the
trail.
Then he had an odd thought, that brought
him up standing. He has only Bassett's word
for the story. Perhaps Bassett was lying to
him, mad. He rode on after a moment,
considering that; lest there was something,
not in Bassett's circumstantial narrative but
in himself; that refused to accept that loop
hole of escape. He could not have told what
it was.
And with his increasing clarity he began
to make out the case for Bassett and against
himself; the unfamiliar clothing he wore, the
pad with the name of Livingstone on it and
the sign R-X, the other contents of his
pockets.
He tried to orient himself in Bassett's story.
A doctor. A DEVILS irony of it! Some poor
hack, losing sleep and bringing babies Ped
ding pills, too. Leading what Bassett had
called life of usefulness. That was career
for you a pill peddler God!
But underlying all his surface thinking
was still the need of flight and he was con-
tinually confusing it with the earlier one. One