Henderson daily dispatch. (Henderson, N.C.) 1914-1995, 1940-03-16
CHAPTER EIGHT

AFTER A DOZEN or more steps |
in the darkness a faint light ap-
reared to the left. We turned to-
ward il and came to the bottom OF
a stairway at the top of which was
a window with the moonlight
streaming through. My captor
poked me from behind to lnolcale
that I was to climb.
There were cobWebs on the walls
and dust on the steps. We SOUNDED
like a cat and horse-I in my pare
feet and the boatman in his heavy
shoes
At the top of the stairs we found
a second flight, going up to announcer
floor. The building here was not as
ruinous as it appeared in its lower
regions, for on this second STAIR
way there were no cobwebs and the
dust had been swept clean.
We came into a great warehouse
room, dimly lighted on one side by
many windows and piled high with
boxes and sacks that threw black,
mysterious shadows. The indescrlp-
able odor Of onions and potatoes
and straw pervaded the place
Through the windows I saw the
tops of trees growing on the river
levee.
My captor, who had not yet
spoken a word, pushed me to pile
of sacks, ripped the gag from my
mouth, and gave me a shove that
dropped me on top of them, face
down, with my hands still tied be-
hind me. He knotted a rope swift
Iy around my bare ankles. 1t was
a hard rope, and hurt.
When his footsteps retreated l
rolled over and strained my ears
to listen. He was among the sacks
and boxes at the far end of the
huge room. There seemed to be no
one else in the place. The next mo-
ment the sound of door opening
and the click of it's latch as it
closed, told me I was alone.
The stiffness was complete, ex-
cept for the throbbing in my head.
I felt the warmth of blood trick
ling down over my forehead. 1t
collected on my eyebrows.
I struggled with my bonds. My
efforts were of no use. My hands
were numb. I could not tell what
I was doing with my fingers, The
ropes around my ankles only cut
deeper as I tried to loosen them.
I gave up, and lay still, trying
to think. I was in a desperate
plight. My absence from the club
house would probably convince the
police that I was guilty of Alfred
Markham's murder, and had fled.
Perhaps that was the purpose of
this kidnapping, to increase the sus-
picion against me--if my captor
had been afraid the police would
suspect him.
What had this huge boatman
been doing in the garden by tie
clubhouse? What did he know
about the murder?
The questions sent such a throb-
bling through my head that 1 reso-
lutely stared out the windows and
tried to make my mind blank.
Then I closed my eyes and lay
back on the sacks, knowing must
conserve my strength.
Dawn could not be far off, I told
myself.
Hours passed. The windows
were tinged with the pink of tie
sunrise, driving the shadows back.
Still my captor did not return.
Once or twice there was the
sound of a rat scurrying across
the floor or rafting in one of the
boxes. was very thirsty.
I began to wonder if the boat
man intended me to lie here until
Twas found by the rightful owners
of the place when they came to
work. My heart leaped when a
door opened and heavy footsteps
approached across the floor be-
hind ME. But it was the boatman
again, I decided from view OF
tina long hairv arm, that can,e