The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1937-03-11
FRIDAY-Continued

were with me or against me on the
trip home. All I know is that I
didn't stop for anything. Some of
our Satuit traffic policemen, how
ever, are silent and in the morning
our side roads are empty. I have
an idea that / sped through red
lights as casually as through
green.
Perhaps Sarah Darbe knows the
sound of my machine. At any rate
she is always at the door to help
me out, to gather up my bundles
and to give me the telephone mes
sages that have accumulated dur
ing my absence. She saw at once
that something had happened and
! saw that she saw. But she asked
no questions, made no comment. /
volunteered nothing, but I chung to
her as we walked through the hall
and across the floor of my living
room to the door leading onto the
piazza.
There I was confronted by a
strange picture.
Seated in one of the hammocks
were Caro- and Hopestill. They sat
close, bolt upright, her hand
clasped tightly in his. They were
looking straight ahead. 1t was OBJ
vious that they had not heard the
car or my footsteps.
They started apart and then their
hands came together again -
clasped. tottered through the
door. They saw at once that some
thing cataclysmic had happened.
They leaped to their feet, hurried
toward me.
''What is it, Aunt Nary" Hope
still asked. Dear Mrs. Avery!"
Caro- quavered, what has hap
pened?"
Some water, Sarah!"
Sarah appeared with a glass of
water. I drank it to the last drop.
Listen, both of you-and listen,
Sarah!" Even I myself caught the
strange hollow resonance of my
voice. "And don't tell anybody yet!
have just come from Bruce Hex
sons camp. He shot himself just
as got there. He's dead. He
killed Ace Blake. He's left con-
fession."
For an instant Hopestil said
nothing. Then "Great God!" he
muttered.
Caro- burst into tears. ooh how
horrible!" she exclaimed. "How
horrible!" Her voice rounded and
deepened with her emotion. But
as she went on repeating, "Horri-
BILE! Horrible! Horriblel" that emo
ton went out of her voice and an
other came in its place-relief. sob
as long as it had to come out, dear
Mrs. Avery, I'm glad that it has
come out now. For how / suffered
all night long! I have been so
afraid that they would arrest my
grandfather. Grandfather told me
the whole story last night. I know
now that my real name is Caroline
Blake and that I'm Ace Blaikie's
daughter, but I cannot realize it
yet. / have scarcely thought about
it, for last night grandfather told
me that / must be prepared at
any moment for his arrest. He
was so exhausted that he went
straight to bed. l asked him if
could tell Hopestill and he said
that could. We've been talking it
over this whole morning long. We
could see no way out-but what a
comfort Hopestill's been to me.
And now in an instant everything
is changed. Grandfather is out of
all danger. BIT this is horribly self
ish- Why did Bruce Hexson kill
my father?"
81 know no more about it than
you do, my dear Child" I an
swered. 1--WE shall all know soon,
however"
"I can wait" Caro- commented
in kind of dreamy apathy. 81
want to feel for awhile this re-
lease from that awful strain"
''Take her for drive, Hopestill,"
I begged.
For myself, I went upstairs to
my room. I have vague recol-
lection that Sarah Darbe helped
me to undress. When I sank into
the cool sheets, the midday sun
was faring in the blue sky. And
then nature, reinforced by this Sec
ond horrifying shock, proceeded to
take her toll. I sank Immediately
into a coma so thick-it was
though I had been knocked on the
head, chloroformed At any
rate l did not open my eyes until
the morning sun was streaming in
to the room.
Bruce Hexson's confession lies
before me as write. But not his
confession as I shall set it forth
here. It is on first sight curious,
insane document. He had poured
it out in one night, writing against
time. had read it-and cried over
it-again and again before I saw
in it two entities. One is the insane
Bruce Hexson, trying illogically to
Justify from the Old Testament
what the sane Bruce Hexson would
never have misunderstanding an I'M
repentant man into the presence of
his Maker, sending himself tc his
Maker with blood on his hands.
Here, I am quoting phrases in the
confession itself. ALI these pas
sages have what my husband used
to call the rhythm of insanity.
Some are nearly unintelligible,
some grotesquely incoherent. Once,
he has covered a page with strange
DIAGRAMS or drawings with tha
Ark of Covenant and Solomon's
temple in the center.
But when he is dealing with
events, and especially when he is
trying to produce that effect which
is the purpose of this document,
he becomes Bruce Hexson the log
ical. observing lawyer. In my pity