The Waterbury Democrat., 1941-10-22
CHAPTER XIV

We were a gloomy pair, Maudie and I, and the sunlight on the lake after the dark, gray days failed to lift my spirits. Maudie was depressed because things hadn't been pro- gressing as she thought they should. Stush Veretti had been named the killer of Herbert Cord and was to be up for examination the next day. That, according to Maudie, was just foollshness. She still held to her original contention that the murder wasn't the work of the city numbers boy, and she hated to see the law so calmly close the case.
 My gloom was for another req son. Denny was gone. There would be little doing on the Cord case until the arraignment next week and that woud only take local coverage, and progress on the Morris murder seemed at an absolute standstill. The police had no ciews and Denny said his of- flee had called him in.
 Of course, I knew he couldn't be around indefinitely A lot of good 1t would have done me any way, with him spending all his i time away from the cottage, and our visits brief ones over the breakfast table.
 When he had come in that after- noon and announced he was taking his feet off our table, Maudie's face expressed both our feelings. { Come into town next week and we'll celebrate" he said, chuck ing her under her second chin. You lost your bet, but I'm big-hearted winner. I'm still taking you and | Mary on a swing around the town"
 He had kissed Maudie on the cheek and when he turned to me l managed to be clutching Finn Me- Cool, who was raising his usual fuss whenever he sees someone leaving.
 twill see you then next weekp" ne asked looking at me, and l said thanks for the invitation and that Maudie and would try to get in. wen let you know in time-so you won's be tied up with another en- Yagement," I said.
 I'd break 1t If I did have one" he said, but the straight look he gave me failed to make me forget Inc way he had sat there in the inn lobby hanging on every word uttered by that Dixon girl.
 "A u,,an Jannf,, neta. ta fafk and couldn't settle down to anything, Finally I took McCool and walked down to the inn. l thanked my starsI could always use the mail as an excuse to get out for awhile. Not that there was anything exciting at the inn. Tn fact, 1t was duller than ever had seen 1t. said so to Chris Gordon.
 People are leaving" he said dourly.
 Our guest just left, too" I said.
 "You mean Flynn, I suppose" he said and I nodded. "The Dix on girl checked out" he added. "Sorne folks came for her. If 1t got hot we might get some guests. but l guess 1t will have to be bllstering before folks would come around here after all the stories them newspa- per folks wrote"
 People soon forget" I told him. s'In another week they won't be thinking of murder; they'll prob- ably be thinking about the Trophy Race and whose boat stands the best chance"
 Folks let their imagInatIons go haywire though" he insisted, fid- ding with the buttons on his vest In that characteristic gesture and looking petulant and aggrieved. This must really be hitting his pocketbook, I decided going home, a little tired from the walk and grateful for being tired. I had no desire to lie in bed tossing wakefully or, in those half-asleep, half-awake moments thinking of Denny, and seeing his red head bending close to Margie Dixons surly black one.
 We'll, I did go to sleep that night. Maudle did too, for I could hear her rhythmic snores as l went by her door and waved to McCool, growing at having his own sleep disturbed.
 His wasn't the only sleep disturbed
 that night. drifted of eventually