The Winslow mail., 1923-11-16

! fallen TO Wnere ne lay while climbing
! that narrow passage above. But the
wound? There was none visible-not
even a bruise on the face. AS q wom-
an, Deborah shrank from touching the
body, but her training as a nurse In
| stantly conquered. She must learn the
truth, disagreeable as the task might
be. On her knees, exertlng all her
strength, she partially turned the body
the man had been shot in the back
She seemed to comprehend it all in
fash, visioning the scene as she rose
quickly to her feet. He must have
done the deed-that older man with
the beard-shooting t.eacherously.
from behind. 1t had been deliberate
murder. But the purpose was not so
clear. To all appearances the assassin
had never even approached his victim
after he fell. Confident of the deadly
accuracy Of his aim, he had left the
inert body lying where it struck, un-
touched, not even the dead mans gun
being removed from its holster, or the
folded bit Of paper released from those
gripping fingers.
The unspeakable, treacherous horror
Of the act appalled, Deborah. There
must be some reason behind it all.
It was too cold, cruel, deliberative not
to have definite cause No speculation
now could solve the mystery, but the
murderer still lived; he was back
yonder in the darkness she had just
I4PA
than he had shown mercy to this other
victim. If he still slept she must take
advantage Of the moment for escape
the one chance up that long passage
toward the CLEAN of light at the top.
She stepped across the dead body,
grasping her skirts tightly in one
hand; then hesitated for an instant,
obsessed by a new thought. Perhaps
that paper might explain all, might
prove the very key to all this mystery.
She bent, and wrested 1t from out the
stiffened fingers, hastily endeavoring
to learn what it contained. 1t was a
thick, tough sheet, the folds showing
yellow and dirty as though it had been
carried a long while, and there was
writing inside. in fine penmanShip, but
so indistinct her eyes were unable to
decipher a single word in that dim
light. She thrust it into the bosom
Of her blouse, her eyes anXiOusly
searching the only possible way out.
1t scarcely promised even that, as
revealed by that single ray barely illu-
minating the passage. Apparently an
irregular sized hole, worn between
layers of solid rock by the action of
water, it led upward at a sharp angle,
and, while wide enough at the lower
extremity to permit the entrance of
full-grOWn man, seemed to contract at
the upper opening so as to make it
very doubtful if an ordinary body
could squeeze through into the open
air beyond. Yet Deborah felt that she
had no choice but to accept this single
chance of deliverance. She could not
remain there with the dead man, nor
retrace her steps backward to where
the murderer remained asleep on
guard. Her belt was still about her
waist but it's holster was empty. Be
fore beginning to climb, she drew the
dead mans gun from it's scabbard, and
stuck it into her own. AS she did so
the light from above glimmered on
pearl-studded handle, and a barrel
of blue steel.
At first the climbing was not diff
cult, the slope gradual with the walls
sufficiently wide apart to afford COM
paratively easy passage. Drawing
herself forward by her hands, with
feet cropping in the darkness below
for any projection against which they
could rest, she won her way upward,
almost inch by inch, soon creeping
over narrow shelf, able, finally, to
sit upright within a shallow niche at
one side where the stone had been
followed out for a few inches. She
was breathless from the hard climb,
her heart beating rapidly. She could
see nothing, hear nothing, yet her mind
pictured again the dead face of that
boy staring up at her-she could not
go back to that! Nor to that other
living horror beyond She must go
on; better to die there, caught help
lessly in that rocky hole, than ever
to fall again into the power of that
beast She listened intently, hearing
nothing; then lifted her hands to feel
upward. She lifted one foot, seeking
fragment of rock to rest upon Then
q i7dfe Of red lit the inferno, a dull,
muffled report echoed along the i'm
prisoning walls, and a bullet brushed
her hair, f1attening itself on the rock
beyond.
She shrank back into the little niche,
scarcely certain of her escape, and
rested there on her knees, not ventur-
ing to move. The shot had come from
below; of that there could be no doubt,
but there was no other report, no
movement to reveal any presence
Deborah had no question as to who
had f1red-it must be the man she
had fed from In the outer cave. He
,,ouCt hoUn coon bor Out1ipo6