The Hardin tribune-herald. [volume] (Hardin, Mont.) 1925-1973, 1937-05-07

That question wa answered the night
Trafford asked M,agda Deane to marry
him.
They were sitting in the living room
OF Magda'S " apartment, where you
could reasonably expect 'herst0 remain
Trafford's hating, blushfu suggestion
that she consider doing him the great
honor of becoming his wife could
hardly have come as a complete sur
prise to Magda. Yet the moment he
spoke the words, Magda Deane-Traf-
ford had nc other term for it in his
acknowledgement dead"
It was as if one had touched a
muscle, expecting a definite reaction,
eyes refused to look into Trafford's
eyes when at last the mouth began to
talk. The voice slurred over words.
Kind Of you," Trafford heard. More
than kind. Beautiful. If only 7 could,
but all" The last was a sigh.
But what?" he said, with an urgent
gentleneSS.
Just that can't" Her eyes still
held s~teadfastly away from his eyes,
which were raking her gone dead"
face; "I5don't you remember about
"Remember?" He rubbed his chin;
thought with absurd ~irreleNance that
his razor might have done better that
morning.
I'm the newspapers a few years ago.
Magda said. THAT trial People against
Magda Deane. Up in the town where
I used to live. Trial for murder"
Trafford's subconscious took its re-
venge, now, for the previous snubs. It
slapped the essential fact into his
"Why," he exclaimed, "the mercy
| killing easel"
Magda nodded, as one who cannot
hope or care.
$50 you see," she said after a time,
with a brave attempt. at Diminishing the
whole matter, IT couldn't marry you.
It wouldn't be fair to either of US"
that he didn't see why, if they loved
each other, but his lawyer caution
leaped to snap a lock on his tongue.
clustering would help little. What he
needed was time to think and plan.
II see," he said quietly. well, per-
haps you're right. One thing, though.
and then, can't we?"
The paralyzed muscle all but moved:
There was an instant's frightening Of
Swallowed eyes, a CLEAN Of hope.
"Oh, I'd love It," Magda said, IF you'd
really care to. I can't tell you what
ouV o11C AC4I J110 SC11USUC6 u1111111oA1COS
went dead" again. AS for Trafford, he
left here as Dol as he could, and the
next morning he had one of the juniors
in his law office go to the newspaper
room at the public library and draw
up a summary Of the news reports of
the now nearly five-year-old murder
cast Of People VS.. Magda Deane. The
summary was typed and ready for him
by S O'Clock that afternoon. He spent
the evening at his apartment, before
his beloved canned coal fire, reading
the manuscript until he knew portions
Of it by heart.
At II the next morning Trafford
handed the summary to his old friend,
Judd Cowles. In what Cowles called his
consultation room. If Cowles couldn't
help, Trafford had no idea who could.
The tall, blonde Trafford and the
stocky, swart Cowles had been Don
mates at college. Cowles, at first ticket
ed Tor medical school, had become in
terested IN psychology, chiefly Of the
tnnumerable abnormal varieties, and
had ridden this hobby to and through
Paris. Vienna and Leningrad. He was a
full-blown p6ychiatrist nowadays. His
consultation room, sleek with satinwood
paneling and modern office furniture
and q case full Of books on psychology
tcal subjects, "a part Of the large pent-
house In which CoWles lived.
let me get this straight, now" said
Cowles, theoretically thumbing the
typed manuscript. His thick, firm,