The Waterbury Democrat., 1938-03-03

AOiOWCN AV-LAlc 4ull seven IulleS- half running, half waking, but keeping everlastingly on.
 She huddled now, like a terrified lost kitten, outside the dark rail- road station in Burlington. Her hair flew around her face in wild disorder, for the wind had come up strong. In the light of the street lamp, her dark eyes loomed large with fear, and her lips quivered. : t'!th one hand, she drew her coat tightly around her, and the other hand-the one for which she had lost the glove-she tucked inside, to keep it warm.
 Her black slippers were scratched and soiled, and there was a long run in her left stocking. There were dirty marks upon her coat, too, for twice she had stumbled in the dark and fallen.
 Each time she had wondered vaguely what had made her get up. She was so tired, so tired that it was good to fall and lay for a moment on the cold ground. But a fierce, impelling force drove her on, and in her wild fancy she heard footsteps behind her; heavy relent- less footsteps which would follow her to the ends of the earth. =.
 The fate of her father pursued her. She could never escape it, no matter what persuasion Dorothy used.
 She was caught, as he had been, ill the same inevitable net of cir constance. MT. Hendry had been murdered, and they would say that she had done it. For 40 thousand dollars. Yet in her purse was scarce ly more than ten dollars: Not enough for another escape. Ten dol lars, and when that was gone, the police would find her.
 It had been wrong to run away. She knew that. She was a coward Every step of the seven miles she had travelled, the words rang in her ears: You're a coward! You're afraid!" Yet she could not stop, for the fear drove her on.
 Even now, she trembled more be- cause she was no longer running. She must keep on, hurrying before the fate which pusued her. But the road ahead lay along main street, and she must compose herself. Policemen patrolled main streets, and one would think it peculiar to find girl running along the streets at such an hour. And if he stopped her, he would guess what she was running from -.
 She knew so well what that would mean. Months in a tiny cold cell, with bars to shut one in, and never another breath of sunshine A long trial; hours of sitting in a crowded courtroom, surrounded by Scornful eyes, seeking in vain for one kindly face, one friend who might believe . And then the in- evitable doom-a rope about ones neck-or here in New York, the electric chair.
 MT. Hendry had been murdered. It was impossible, it was incon- ceivable, but it had happened A man can't put a knife into his own back.
 But who could have done it? Who could have hated a man so gentle, so trusting, so kindly, as to do a thing like that?
 Someone who had wanted the 
 There are men who would kill another for 40 thousand dollars. But | they are clever men. The police | never find them. They would never | know who killed MT. Hendry. They | would look for her, instead.
 She could see the headlines in yhe morning papers; she could hear ] thousand tongues convicting her.
 Her father was murderer! It's in her blood, to kill"
 Sybil would tell them, of course. Sybil would have no need to bar gain with her now.
 And Bob! He would be dragged !. into the whole sordid affair, wheth- er she wanted it or not. His pie ture would be in every paper; in bold-face type they would refer . to him as "the killers fiance."
 He would protest, of course. He would know that she had never killed man. MT. Hendry, whom they both loved. ..
 But who would listen to him? Who had listened to her mother?
 There was another problem. Bob . would search for her; he would followed her, day and night, to . make her return and convince them . that she hadn't done it. Poor Bob! i He would think she could do that. :. He did not know ...
 She must hurry on.
 A green bus, empty save for the