Evening Star Newspaper, April 17, 1921, Page 64

2 THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C., APRIL 17, 1921—PART 4. DOOM RED RIVER ARDNERS' is one of the few remaining haunts of peace J in a country overrun with feverish tourists. It stands remote and embowered in a live-oak grove fronting & bay of tha Diadem chain, half a mile from the nearest approach of the excursion steamers which ply up into the orange coun- try. An hour's paddling takes the am- bitious angler to the mouth of Doom river, deepest and widest of Florida's streams, a paradise of game, infested with venomous snakes and itself winding like a still serpent out of the heart of a whispering and treacherous swamp. LI Out of the current of Florida's hurry- ing, spendthrift, overdressed, overpress. ed winter pilgrimage, a tiny trickle o tired folk finds its way to the planta- tion house which old Miss Gardner, depleted of 4 once handsome fortune, conducts for such paying guests as come reliably introduced. Most of us Who seek the quietude are, in the favorite euphemism of the place. “not Quite well.” 1t may be a suspicious cough, as in the case of elderly Miss French, or it may be indefinite “nerves.” such as the middle-aged and commonplace Betterfields are sup- posed to suffe tions in this belief in_spiritistic may be, though young is the sole entry under drink. . It would have seemed to be no il- ment or disability that brought Sylvia Glenn to us, in March., when were all well settled into our Across our _semi-fossilized & she swept like a vitalizing he was a splendidly feminine long-limbed. deep-bosomed. instance of a childlike messages), or it Peter Delano’s this head. we creature, supple and strong as a young tree in on e suggestion of pas: . with th g and the in her wide-set gray eyes < surance of strength to control it in her firmly modeled chin, She had come in. unheralded, from Jas nville, with a letter from cousins of the Gardners. needing, but certainly not looking as if she needed. “a month to rest up in, $0 she said. She took up her quarters alone in Honeysuckle cottage. a few yards from the main plantation house Where the rest of us roomed. Immedi- ately the atmosphere of the place changed. To say that every unattached man among us at once fell in love with the newcomer would perhaps be ex- cessive. Certainly young Peter Delann did. In his boyish, ill-controlled and somewhat blatant way he made that apparent. No less prompt and obvious was the subjection of Gorman Gard- ner. the easy-going. ineffectual but charming nephew of the proprietress; but his was the wistful and humble attitude. 1 suspected. also from the first, Hecker, the ferret-faced. pros- perous lawyer from Washington, chiefly because, upon Miss Glenn's ar- rival, he ceased to talk and think about his dyspepsia, and began ob- viously to think., if not always to talk, in terms of Miss Glenn. which was doubtless good for his ailment, whatever the effect upon him glher- wise. Concerning the two remaining bach- elors. Prof. Rainey and Sherwood Charlton, it would have been difficult to make an early estimate. The pro- fessor, an oldish young man. who held the chair of psychology in Havil- den College, had been sent to Gard- | ners’ with strict medical injunctions to put on twenty pounds or make his will. Him 1 judged to enjoy a nat- ural immunity from undue feminine influences. Chariton was a more un- certain quality. He was a tall, silent young man, with a face which would have been almost beautiful were it not that in repose the expression was that of one haunted by vague but unescapable dread. A late arrival among us, he had shown, while scru- pulously polite and considerate, no dis position toward any Comvlnlonlhla with the exception that twice he h: joined me in my walks. Now he be- came all unobtrusive attention to Sylvia Glenn. PR THE Tl accepted anything with simple. and spEny matwmliness. Homage of mén was clearly fhe nor- mal atmosphere of her life. Here she returned Yor it a frank and trustful, but always self-respecting, comrade- ship extended to all, to the wistfully slavish .Gardner as to the mild and pedantic professor—even to Hecker, ‘whom, I tbink, she_really- disliked. Againat young Peter Delano's open siege—for it promptly developed into that—she defended herself with good- humored MKughter and gentle ridi- cule. Yet I think she felt the charm ©of the boy—his effervescent cheeri- ne: which was, however, prone to cloud over upon provocation into th black humors of the spoiled child. From my viewpoint of disinterested observer it was the developing rela- tion between her and Sherwood Charl- ton. which ‘became most interesting. Almost from the first it seemed to me that for him. her defenses were down. ‘There was a look in her eyes when they strayed to his face—questioning, puzzled, almost anxious. Hecker amd Delano observed it; and so hatred came into our peaceful circle, and eventual tragedy. That I should have been the one in whom Charlton confided his troubles ‘was, I think, a matter of chance and the confidential influence of night alr. Restless, I had risen, dressed and ‘walked down to the little pier one morning about 2 o'clock. When I saw & canoe, the only craft then in com- mission at Gardners’, rise on the swell of the down-bound excursion steamer Just passed. it seemed to be unoccu- Died and adrift; but presently a figure straightened up from the bottom of it; and when I hailed it answered me in Charlton’s quiet voice. “Trying to sleep,” he said, paddling in and climbing to a place beside me. ‘Any Juck?" ot much. Sometimes I can get to sleep in the open air when the four walls of a room seem to choke me. Do you know the cold sulphur spring?” ““The one just off the main road, a couple of hundred yards from the bouse” “Yes. They don’t use it now. There's & clump of tall palmettos there. very | thick. I've thatched the leaves to- gether for a rough shelter and swung & hammock there to lie in nights when my room s too much for me. You could walk along the road ten feet away and never know any one ‘was there. But tonight even that was t00 shut in for me." This was unwonted expressiveness from our Jocal hermit. But more was to come. “You're an older man,” he £aid, hesitantly. “And I need advice If my brain was clear. I'd think it out for ‘myself. But insomnia twists tings w0 for one. It makes you ex- gerate where your ow. &re concerned ™ g GiRereats “For example?* Well—Delano,” he said after a pause. ello! I didn't suspect that you were specially interested in young Peter. mr""l:.ve been lcarning some things about “Are you collecting data on the cles?” 1 asked, rather amused. I'm not.” he denied, a slight flush illuminating his tired face the contrary me unsought.” “Well, what's wrong with Peter?" “Oh, wrong' That's a loose word. Of course, he isn't a criminal, But he's & good deal of a rounder, a follower of the white light. He isn't—well. he fsn't ] ~On the information came to the sort of fellow you'd want your sister going ‘about with.” “Miss Sylvia Glenn, rather maliciously, te 1 pointed out s not your sis- 'No: I wish to heaven she were!™ he answered. with such passionate sincerity that I was amazed. “I could protect her, then.” “There are other relationships. suggested, “which would give you that right. If it is not an imperti- nent question, why not enter the list 1 he said simply. yourself against Delano? Thereupon I got another shock. love her too much JA curious reason. surely.” thoughtfully troubles on you. r from (with complica- | a curious world, and not alto- gether a fair one,” returned Charlton and quite without bit- terness. “It's a curious thing, for in- stance, that I should be inflicting my But I've been mor- bid 20 Jong that, now whex'I've be- gun to come back to life, I've got to have some one to talk to. And 1 thought you wouldn't mind.” | "“No, 1 don't mind. What brought you back to life, &8 you put it?” ‘She did." He spoke as if there were only one woman in the whole world. I judged him to be of that rare type for whom eventually and fatally there I3 only one woman in the whole world. Had Sylvia with her fine sensitiveness subconsciously felt and responded to this? ‘;l‘vh)' not, then, play the man's part oz : “Ah, but, you see, I'm not a man. | I'm a derelict. Unless, I find some- thing to take me out of myself, it seems to be a choice between drugs and insanity for . If you've ever been cursed wnnnvhe damnation of insomnia—I suppose this must sound like childish whining to you."” “Do you care to tell me about it?" I asked. * k ¥ X E told me. A terrific war experi- ence of desperate wounds and ex- | posure had left him in such condition that, although his forceful body had reconstituted itself, some subtle in- jury to tMe spirit had left him not only an insomniac, but with certain infringements upon his will power. “I'm @ coward,” he said. “I'm afraid | of life now. And anyway, I don't care for life, or didn't until—" He broke off. There was no need for him tq conclude. “How much of this does Miss Glenn know " “A good deal. She did nursing in a psychopathic ward during the war. So she understands and sympathizes.” Understanding and sympithy—are you sure that's al He turned a ghastly face to me. “It must be all. 1 give you my word of | honor. I've never for an instant tried to make love to her.” “It seems to me," said I gently, “that you've never done anything else, with every look you turn on her and’ every tone of your voice when you speak to her.” “Is that true? Then I've got to go away. I'd be worse than a black- ! guard, things being as they are with me. to take even the ghost of a risk of her caring. But it isn't of myself that I wanted to talk, but of Delano. | Do you think she’s—she's interested? “Amused—nothing more,” 1 an. swered, positively. hey're a great deal together.” Natural enough. They're nearly of an age. He's always pressing her to go in his car or play games, or one thing and another, and to be generous is part of her nature and | charm.” “I hope you're right.” he said. “But | when I go, I'd like to leave some evi- dence in your hands to be used in case you think it wise.” “Behind young Peter’s back!" I sald, frowning. “I don't quite like that. 1 t behind his back. He Kknows I've got it. I've told him. “What did he say?” “Threatened to kill me. Made such i ;lm‘l that I had difficulty in quieting ‘Were you a coward then?” " he answered, with his dim ‘I'm not particularly afraid of death. It's life that scares me. But he didn't really mean it. He'd been drinking, I think.” “Once or, twice I've suspected him. ‘Where does he get it?" “There's always-moonshine in the { turpentine camp up the road between ihere and Doom river, and he's quite chummy with some of those chaps;) they go off on fishing trips together. A tough_ lot—crackers and poor whites. Well, I'm going back to bed: maybe I'll get a couple of hours’ sleep now.” s Four days of rain threw our little community in upon itself, intensify- ing the internal hostility which was now manifest to the point of mak- ing me uneasy. Both Delano and Hecker lost no opportunity of show- ing their hostility toward Sherwood Charlton—the former, like an un- licked cub, grossly and abusively, the latter through sly attacks and half- veiled slurs. Chariton bore it ad- mirably—though perhaps indiffer- ently would be the better term. All his thought was for Sylvia: Glenn. He was_ going at the e of the week. So, as I figured it, he was giving himself his last taste of hap- piness. Thursday broke brilliant and crisp. So many were the invitations and requests focused upon Sylvia that to avoid discrimination she organized a walking party for all those able to go. Peter Delano flung away in a huff, and we heard his car roar out! through the gate as if it, as well as its master, had evil temper to work off. Our leader took in a sev- en-mile jaunt, the second stage of which skirted Doom river as far up as the Hanging bridge. a picturesque ope-swing, single-path crossing, and swerved east to bring us out on the main road near the turpen- tine camp. At the roadside stood Delano's dark-green car. 1 The pettish youth. looking now as, if his equanimity were quite restored, | was seated on a 10g with two of the | limped on a pecuilarly twisted foot, hastily retired as we <ame-in sight, and, 1 thought, concealed something in a palmetto clump. Noting young Peter's high color and roving eye, I had a shrewd guess that the meal had not been a totally dry one. Upon learning that we had been near Doom river, Delano aske ~Didn't see any wild turkeys about, aia_you?" Nobody had. “I've heard there was a flock seen fear there last week, | though.” said Gorman Gardner. i | Bylvia Glenn's eyes sparkled. “I'd {1ove to have a wild-turkey fan.” she {sald. “Would there be any chance fof_a shot?" ! Charlton - spoke up at once. *I; T'll try to get| | thave a shotgun here. | you one. * ¥ X ¥ 1 ETER got up from his log and| came forward. not quite steadily. | He pointed a finger at Charlton. “You keep out of this,” he said in a! voice thick with anger. his is my game: T heard about those tur- keys. That's why T asked if any- body’s seen ‘em. ¥ou keep out of those woods if you know what's good for you.” The threat was gross. Sylvia's swift color ran to her cheeks. Charl- iton straightened up. “I go where [ choose” he began hotly; but an imploring glance from the ‘girl checked him. The suave voice of Hecker cut in: “As Mr. Delano had first news of the flock, it is his right to gbt the first chance.” “I'll_ go with you, Mistah Petah." offered his second companion of the log. an old, hugely fat but still active man, named Tapley, reputed tn he a skillful woodman. “Me an' Saul Carshow" (pointing to the semi- | | i | cripple. who had returned). “We kin take you direck to whah them tuckeys roost. “I go alone.” said Peter. “This is my game. I'll bring you that fan on my own, Miss Sylvia.” “Yo'll git los. Mist' Petah,” warned ‘arshow, in his soft. cracker drawl. “Yo' won' git no tuckeys ‘thout yo' know the groun’ Young Peter laughed boastfully. “See that?' he cried. pulling a roll of bills from his pocket. “Any part of three hundred that I get a turkey tonight, and I get it alome. Any takers?”" Then Charlton did a silly and child- ish thing. “I'll take your bet” he said. instant, catching Sylvia's reproachful glance, he tried to recant *“No, 1 won't”'he said. “I spoke too quickly.” “Well, you will,”” reterted the other, “unless you want to be called yel- low before all these people. What about it?" “It's a bet said Hecker, unpleas- antly. Legally, of course, it has no force, but as a question of honor- He left the conclusion suggestively unsaid. “Very good. said Charlton, list- lessly. The remainder of the walk was spoiled, except for Peter Delano, who ran_ his car along beside us at a snail's pace. jubilantly elaborating his plans. He would go as far to- 'u& | lumination. I drew my s in his car, leave it there, cross the bridge and strike off into the swamp. A full moon would help him find his way. He intended to start after midnight. “For I might get a sight of 'em on the roost,” he said. “If not, Fll wait till sun-up, when they rise out of the trees. Anybody want any more of my mone, ve still got some left."” He touched his pocket. Nobody did. Three of us sat up to see him off. We were a queer trio, little Rainey. with his bulging forehead, his meek, weak eyes and deprecating manner, played cribbage with Sylvia Young Peter, in high spirits, poked me because 1 warned him of the danger from water-moccasins and possibly the gigantic diamond-back rattler. I felt vaguely uneasy about the venture. And even the dreamy psychologist seemed dubious and tried to dissuade | the hunter. “And pass up my bet aftér Charl- ton tried to crawfish on it?" cried Peter. “I'll come back covered with mud and glory, and make him eat the turkey. Where is he, anyway?” Charlton, it appeared had gone to his room at 10 o'clock. At half-past THERE WAS A LOOK IN HER EYES WHEN THEY STRAYED Prof. | Sylvia did. too, I think. | One of Samuel Hopkins Adams Best Stories more unpleasant jerk. “That's mere guesswork.” 1 protested, “I'd swear to them.” Again h paused. “Why isn't Delano back he sal “Why should he be?” “Why shouldn’t he be?” his two turkeys." “Perhaps he missed them. You can’'t m turkeys at roost with a shotgun, if that was a shot- He's got seeing an easy shot used it instead of his shotgun. Peter's just sport enough | for that.” “And just shot enough to bore the ace of hearts six times running. I've seen him do it. He isn't missing tur- —not that boy! Therefore, again, ou're certain he isn't?" “His car isn't in the garage. There's quite a bit of interesting absenteeism to be explained.” “Just what are you driving at, | Hecker?" I queried, sharply. “Well, where's Chariton?” 1 thought that I knew well enough where Charlton was, but that was ALMOST ANXIOUS. gun that we heard—which it wasn't.” | “*Very likely he took his revolver | along,” 1 suggested hopefully, “and TO HIS FACE—QUESTIONING, Sylvia Glenn joined us. I thought that she looked pale and unrested, but her voice was gay as she asked: “Where ar emy mild turkey feath- ers? Isn't Mr. Delano back ye | Nobody answered. We took our seats t the table. Two remained vacant—Delano's and Charlton’s. The conversation, fragmentary, but ex- cited, concerned itself with the young hunter's failure to return. Old Uncle Jarvey, a relic of slavery days, who waited on table, preferred the first direct contribution to the subject in his discreet and_confidential voice. “Dey done fin' Mist' Petah’s car.” he said, in Sylvia's eaa. Hecker, whose faculties seemed abnormaily stimulated, overheard. Where?” he snapped. “In a sideroad close on de Doom Rivah trail to Hangin' bridge.” The door opened, and in walked Sherwood Charlton. His eyes were pinched and hot, as if fever had ! burned them out. Without a word to any one, he shambled to his seat. So foreign was this to his usual quiet courtesy that every one stared at him. Sylvia Glenn gave him good YL e it " PUZZLED, twelve young Peter Delano left us on his last adventure. Out of an uneasy sleep I was awak- | ened by a flood of light in my fac My first thought was of a flash- something hzd happened: 1 ing summoned. I jumped bed, and the radiance swiftly with- turpentin hands. lunching, for it Was|drew. Then I recognized it as the the noon hour. One of his com-:beam from the up-bound steamer.| panions, a tallish, sallow man, wWho|which in its twistings and turnings to follow the tortuous channel whirled its flaring ray about as if seeking| some hidden malefactor Gf the coun- | tryside. Leaning out of the window, 1 beheld the broad, whitish-yellow beam settle for a moment upon the highroad that led past the sulphur| spring and Charlton’'s nest, and I wondered whether that victim of in- somnla might also have been roused from his hammock by the luminous intruder. Two distant shots came to my ear. “Peter has got his turkey.” I re- flected. and returned to bed. But first, recalling thit the down-river boaf also might be prodigal of its Some spirit of restlessness have infused the air that night. the flash from the sccond boat. faint though its glow upon my shade was, roused me again. this time beyond hope of further slcep. After thershing about for a tormented half hour I got up, Aressed and went out. It was then For about 2:30. Other uneasy spirits, T perceived, felt the tingle in the at- mosphere. A low light was burning in Sylvia Glenn's cottage. In the ground-floor room of the main house, occupied by Sherwood Charlton, the acetylene gas was on, full head. Di- recting my steps thither, for I felt an unwonted desire for companionship. 1 was brought up short by a low whistle. My taut nerves leaped. “Here,” 8aid a volce. In the black shadow of a live oak 1 made_out the wiry figure of Heck- er, seated on a bench. This was not the companionship I wanted. But I went to him. . are you doing. up and “What 7" he asked with a mirthless grin. ‘Sleeplesaness.’ “Same here,” he said. “Same there!" He pointed to Charlton’s darkened room. 'Have you seen hi he isn't there. ot in his room?” For the mo- ment T was startled, until I recalled the hammock in the palmettoes. However, this was none of Hecker's business. “Hasn't " he cnnx(nus'k How do you kndw?" 7" T queried. been for two hours, at flash into his window when I first got_up." “Really, Mr. Hecker—"" broke in the lawyer. “But I've a ng that something is going on. uneasy.” “Oh, that's all right,’ sharp-faced fe. in; 'What are you uneasy about?” “Two shots in the night.” “I heard them.” “Then you could verify the time?" «“Certainly. It was about two minutes after the steamer turned in at the buoy. Therefore about 1:15." “What did you make of them?”’ “That Peter Delano has got a tur- key fan for Miss Glenn—or perhaps two.” “The ledge wWhere the turkeys roost is nearly five miles away, and in thick forest. Pretty far for shots to be heard 8o plainly,” he said slowly. “They may have shifted to a nearer spot. Hecker seemed to reflect at tha “Beside: he added at length, “those were pistol shots.” Hanging bridge as he could My nerves gave another and even - must | I elimbed the ledge and threw a | His tone was convinc-} none of this busybody's affair. made no reply. “He's got to be accounted for frofl o'clock. or thereabouts, about the the shots were fired.” ) have vou," | ted bluntly. ! But, e," returned Heck- er, in his suavest voice, “I had ng grudge against Delano.” “Are vou daring to charge “Oh, 1 charge nothing. 1 only say that if anything has happened to | Delano, some explanations will be due.” * ¥ X ¥ XCITEMENT must have put an edge on our voices, for 1 saw a | igure appear at an upper window, | and the moon glistened from the high | and bulbous forehead of Prof. Rainey. ! Presently he had joined us, clad in dressing gown and slippers. “Is anything wrong, gentlemen?” he Gueried, in his precise and gentle voice. othing at all,” I answered prompt- thinking to forestall Hecker. 1 aw no reason for spreading his ugly surmises further. “Has Mr. D:lan returned?” *“No,” said L. Why do you ask?" said Hecker. The professor laughed pologetic- ally. “What might be termed, un- scientifically, a foreboding. There is something in the air, as we say when we mean something in our nervous status. 1 have not slept well. Two revolver shots, heard as 1 was about falling aslecp—" Not revolver, surely,” 1 protested, “I took them to be shol | | | He shook his big head. “In the war I was instructor in pistol practice: It is unlikely I should be in error.” “You see” said Hecker, trium- phantly. “What do revolver shots at 2 o'clock in the morning mean? Mur- der?” “Possibly,” assented Prof. Rainey. “Possibly not. Conceivably it might be self-defense—or a casual venture at a night-prowling animal—or even a drunken spree. “Is Charlton likely to have gone on a drunken spree?’ rasped Hecker. “Chariton?" The psychologist turn- ted to him a face of suppressed in- quiry. © “He's missing from his room. “Come, gentlemen!” sald I, with de- cpsion, "This has gone quite far {enough.” “1 concur in that view said the i professor, gravely. “When we come to breakfast and }find Delano there with or without his iprey, we will laugh at ourselves as ;victims of the night air. 1 propose ithat that we go back to our rooms iand try to forget this foolishness in !sleep.” The others agreed—Hecker, sullen- |1y, the professor, readily. For my- yself, I sat an hour waiting, then crept out and made for the sulphur spring. Underfoot the pathway was still wet and soft. I had no difficulty in identifying Charlton’s palmetto- clump. The hammock was there, os- cillating in the breeze. It was empty. Breakfast was at 8:30 sharp. I went down to it, after a pallid and =leep- less night, without appetite, my mind possessed of dread. In the hallway I encountered Hecker. . “Charlton came in at 6:45,” he said in my ear. So he had been watching! I might have foreseen it. “And Delano?" 1 asked, little hope. % He shook his head. At the door of the dining room but with » So 1| morning, with a solicitous look. replied mechanically, and self with drooping head. It was most extraordinary. but all of us were too intent ups Uncle Jarvey’ news to let ythi 1se int “Who found his c Tom Fenser's boy the turpentiners. Dey’s out searchin’ the swamp.” “They won't find him there.” It was Sherwood Charlton Who spoke. His voice was low but cu- riously positive. He had not raised his head. Hecker leaned over him. “Find whom?” he asked, softly. “The dead man.” 0ld Miss grench gave a little hys- terical cry. Some one repeated, “Dead?” {n a tone of annoyance and incredulity, as if something un- seemly had been presented for our consideration. What it was that drew attention to Prof. Rainey at this moment I cannot say. The lit- tle man was sitting stifly upright, with a strangely alert look in his eyes .which were fixed upon Charl- ton's downcast face in a painful in- tensity of concentration. “How do you know he's dead?” mur- mured Hecker, as gently as If he feared to awaken a sleeping person. “The hyacinth closed over his face, was the instant rcsponse. “De watah-hyacinf!" wailed Uncle Jarvey. “Once it close ovah you, it | nevah give you up.” But the river was xed.” said Charl- ton, lifting his face and staring di- rectly in front of him with blenk; un- noting regard, “——red in the light of the flash “Red, honey?" The old negro's voice was tremulous with awe. He thrust his wizened face close to Charlton’s. “Doom river red? Don' say dat, Mist' Cha'lton, honey. . “Red, red, red,” retorted the other with a_touch of petulance. He drummed on the table for a moment with clumsy fingers, then pottered off: “Doom river clear, Naught to fear. Doom river red, Spews its dead.” Upon the black ancient this dog- gerel |produced a shocking effect. “Oh, Gawd a mussy!” he moaned, pressing his head between his hands. S0 ain” heard dat sence de- bloody ays.” * ok ok % PROF. RAINEY took him by the shoulders and shook him gently. “An old song, uncle?” FKe asked eagerly. “Yassuh. Ap’' ol' sayin’, an’ a bloody one. Time o' de slave hunts! Don’ nobody remembah it, I didn’ reckon, but a few poh ol’ niggahs like me, an’ the trash-whites dat hunted ‘em foh de rewa'd, dead or alive.” “That's very curious,” mused the professor, gazing speculatively at Charlton’s dream-bound face. “Where, I wonder, could he——" “What does it matter?" broke in Hecker peremptorily. “We've got something more serious to consider than folklore.” He bent over the en- tranced man. “Where is he?' he fmurmured. *Is he in Doom river?” “Yes. Under Hanging bridge,” was the prompt response. “How do you know, Chariton?" The words came in a roar from Hecker's working throat. Charlton’s head snapped around. He straightened up. His eyes met the savage challenge of Hecker's. Hi half -turned, lifted his arms with a ludicrous, flopping motion and went » He | ted him- | over backward. Sylvia Glenn was at his_side instantly. “He's fainted,” she said. *Let him lie." Then, to Hecker, in a voice that quivered: “How dare you! T'll prove it to you,” he answered. “Suppose we find the body where he said. 'Will you belleve it then?" ‘Never,” she said passionately. He turned quite white. “You'li have to. I'm going to Hanging bridge in the canoe to search the hyacinth for ! the body. “T'll go with you,” said Gorman Gardner. “Won't you wait," put in little Mrs. Betterfield, all aflutter, “until we have consulted ouija? Jt was quite re- markable last ni, 3 spellin| out trouble. s L b “It may save you valuable time.” urged Betterfield.” “It might even in- dicate the exact spot—" Come along.” said Hecker. * ko x % CHARLTO.\‘, revived, appeared to be In a hazy mental condition. He ‘wzs helped into the sitting room and Put on a lounge before the fire. If he remembered the extraordinary events of the breakfast table ne gave no evidence of it, but seemed quite content to doze and smile at Sylvia Glenn, who was caring for him, be- tween naps. At 10 o'clock he roused himself, demanded a cup of the strongest available coffee, and, hav- ing swallowed it, declared himself fit, asked if he had been any trouble to any one and apologized if he had. “I had a rather bad night,” he said. ruefully, “—dreams.” He.shuddered. “They left me muddled when 1 woke up. Have I made a fool of myself” Prof. Rainey shook his head. After Hecker's departure he and 1 held a consultation which concluded with his going alone to the clump of pal- mettoes near the spring. He return- ed. looking thoughtful. Tacitly, Syl- via Glenn and 1 left it to him to handle Charlton. Why? That would be difficult of explanation. The little man seemed to have developed a fudden unsuspected quality of com- petency which, without yet really manifesting itself, made itself felt. id Delano get his turkey?" asked Charlton. “Do I lose?" “No,” answered the professor. “He got none. Mr. Charlton, do you mind answering a few questions?’ “I suppose not. What's wrong? Has something happened?” “Possibly something serious. You did not sleep in your room last night.” L “No—at least, only part of the night.” “Where did vou go to sleep”™ “In a hammock which I strung in the open.” . “Were you—pardon me, but the sit. uation warrants my asking—under the influence of a drug?’ Charlton frowned. hesitating. “Oh, answer him!" pleaded Syl “Yes—lethargol—a double dos “A powerful soporific, and a treach- erous one. Do you take it often?" “Only when 1 can't endure the in- somnia any longer.” “Does it leave you in the condi- tion you were in this morning “It never has before. It w double dose, I expect. My memories of last night are like those of a man in a trance. They're blurred; yet I feel as if I were just on the verge of recalling them. You know that feeling " “Very well. You smoked several cigarettes in your hammock, didn't you?" “Yes.” Charlton stared. you know?" “I found the ashes underneath. Then you took the drug. What time was that?” “About half past 12.” “It acts promptly on you?” “Not very.” “But by 1 o'clock you would be thoroughly under?” “No. I wasn't. The headlight of the up-lake boat partly roused me. Both boats flood the road with light when they make the turn. When I did get to sleep later 1 suppose the uncon- scious recollection got into my brain, for 1 remember dreaming of a sort of pressure of light on my eyes.” “That would be the down-bound boat.” murmured his interrogator. “It fixes the time as 2 o'clock.” “I don't know what you mean. Time of what?” “You didn't see anything?" “No. Yet I had a sense of something horrible happening and my knowing all about it, although 1 wasn't really present. It held me paralyzed for a itime, as dreams will. Then I tried to get away. I think I did get away. { “From your harimock?" i *“From wherever 1 was. Yes, of course, from the hammock in the pal- mettoe: “Where did you go then?” “I can't remember.” “Try,” urged Prof. Rainey. “I must have wandered. dreamed of somebody saying: ‘Go to sleep. It's all right. Go to sleep.’™ “Who was it?" A thin flush mounted to Charlton’s gensitive face. He was silent. I have “How did could hear Sylvia’s d breathing. “I don’t kno finally. | “And you woke up this morning in | your room?* “Yes—if you can call it waking. In- stinct took me into the dining room. But I was still in the dream— couldn’t get out of it “And you can recall nothing of what you did after you left the pal- mettoes? “Nothing but that vague ugly dream.” Prof. Rainey looked at a large sil- ver watch. “I wonder how long it would take Mr. Hecker to get there in the canoe?’ “Oh, I forgot to tell you smaid Sylvia. “They didn’t go in the canoe. It was missing when they looked for it." “Ah!” said the “Missing was it? That explains— hum! Yes—yes,” he muttered. “Much quicker that way with the south What did Mr. Hecker do for e he added, more briskly. “They were to borrow one at the railroad bridge.” “In that case we may expect to hear from them soon. Now, Mr. Charlton, we phychiatrists, you know, have our own queer way of getting at things. T propose, with your con- sent, to try a stimulant upon your memory. Please let your mind rel Now.": He recited slowly: Doom river clear— An expression of agonized groping distorted Chariton's face. ‘‘Naught,” he sald stumblingly, “naught—to—to fear.” Then, more fluently: Doom river red Spews its dead. “Where did I hear that stuff? he demanded. Suddenly he jumped to his feet. “There’'s been murder done!” he cried. “Who did it?” “I don’'t know. How should I? Is it Delano? “We fear so. He failed to come back.” “My God! And all this question- ing of yours! What does it mean? “It may be important that you @ao- count . for your movements last night.’ “Am.I accused—" “No,” broke in Sylvia, “there is no accusation. w; don't ;'Gn know that anything has happened.” "’1 kn‘;v, It's murder. Delano’s been killed.” There was a rush and rustle in the hall outside, and the Betterfields burst in, leaving open the door, around which clustered the awed, eager faces of half a dosen colored serv- ants. “The ouija—the ouija! they gasp- ed in a breath. = “It {?u ‘glel:c." began Prof. Rainey a pained and protesting tone. “It keeps spelling out Murdes! i little professor. - l | | ! ' | Murder! Murder!”” stammered Mrs. Betterfield. “Naturally! Under your hand with your mind full of inspired theories. “Do mnot blaspheme,” said Bettei fleld solemnly. “Never was a more convincing manifestation of spirit control. And that not all.” Indeed it jisn confirmed Mrs. Betterfield. “When we asked her who the murderer. ‘Rachel'” interrupted sband. e rupted her hu: "I will speak! The words are not mine. They are ouija’s. It gave the initials 8. R. C.” ced at Sherwood Chariton it ilisk gleam. If you mean me. Mrs. Betterfleld.” aid calmly, “my initials are S. V. perfectly evident what ouija X she snapped. “The usual method among ouija's dupes.” murmured the professor. “Ad- just the manifdstation to suit the suspicion.” The loud droning hum of a high- powered car sounded outside. De- lano's green racer drew up at the gate. Hecker jumped out and came into the sitting roo “We've found him, Dead? I asked. : “Yes. Two bullets in his body.” Sylvia Glenn gave a little gasp. “Poor Peter! Where was the body? she whispered. “Under Hanging bridge, in the h cinth. He was shot while crossing the bridge.” “How do you know that?" I queried “Spots of blood on the bridge. He jumped and tried to swim for it. He must have come up under the hya- cinth “Poor Peter! Oh. poor Peter!” said Sylvia again, brokenly. “And I sent him to his death.” “No—no.” said Prof. Rainey. gently. “You mustn't blame yourself, Miss Glenn. Did you notice the river, Mr Hecker?" “Did I notice the river?" repeated the lawyer, contemptuous! “We've been working in it for an hou “Was it red?" * x ¥ % ORMAN GARDNE Hecker, answer. “Yes, it was slightly reddish. That's caused by a minute waterweed which comes up from the bottom at times. What on earth does it matter?" “Curiosity,” murmured fessor. “Keep your curiosity for a more fit- ting time,” barked Hecker. “Gentle- men."—his manner became forensic. as if he werc addressing a jury— “what we listened to at breakfast from Mr. Charlton was a confession of murder—unconscious, perhaps, but nevertheless a confession.” he announced. entering after the pro- *“I told you!" cackled Mrs. Better- field. hysterically. ‘The ouij G!S8. v.C!” “She has altered the second initial. murmured the professor. “Quite typ! cal. Quite typical!” 2 Although he spoke to me, his eves were fixed on Hecker. Through the clustered group of negroes outside another wave of emotion fanned at the potent touch of spiritism. The lawyer raised his arm and pointed at Chariton. “Sherwood Charlton,” he declaimed, *“I charge you with the deliberate and unprovoked murder of Peter Del- ano. I shall put you under arrest.” “You?" Chariton got slowly to his feet. “I advise you not.” Drawing a revolver from his pocket, Hecker cocked and lifted it Instantly Prof. Rainey blocked the muzzle with his body. So close was he that the grim little mouth all but touched his waistcoat. 5 “Stand out of the wa; Hecker. “Please to put your weapon up. Mr. Hecker,” said Rainey, in a tone of mild protest. “If you undertake to protect a murderer you must take the conse- quences: Hecker's face was twist- ed with rage. Hé thrust at the little professor's throat with his left hand. What happened next was covered from my eyes by the violent but quickly stilled movements of the two bodi ‘The revolver fell upon the carpet, and there was Hecker. held helpl in the grasp of the paychologist. It was an amazing ex- hibition of strength and adroitness in that pudgy flgure. Prof. Rainey loosed his hold and picked up the weapon. There followed a still greater surprise. He handed it back to_its owner. “I will be responsible for Mr. Charl- ton.” he said. Bewildered and a little cowed. Hecker pocketed the arm after a moment’'s hesitancy. I conceived a new respect for psychology us : science. Obviously, it was of morc practical use than one might sup- pose. “Very .well,” Hecker acquiesced. glad to save his face. “That's sat- 1sfactory—until the officers arrive.” Drawn by the return of the search- ers, the other guests had assembled in the large room. At Hecker's dir: accusation. a2very one drew aw from Charlton except Sylvia Glenn. She stood close to him. tall. pale lovely and lo; Hecker glanced at them with hatred in his features. “You need have no fear of my try- shouted ing to get away.” said Charlton. evenly. “Nothing could get me away until T'm cleared. You've accused me of killing Peter Delano. Now you've 8ot to make good on it." “Where were you last night?" re- torted the lawyer. “Right here at this place.” “You didn't sleep in your bed.” “I was restless and went to a ham- mock which I have slung in a pal- metto patch near the spring.’ “Even if we accept that unlikely tale, what proof is there that you stayed there all night?" “I didn’t stay there all night.” “No? Where were you the rest of the night?” “I don't know,” replied Charlton. “You don’t know! Why don’t you know?>" E “Wait a moment.” I interposed. “It Mr. Charlton is charged with murder, surely it is not fair that he should be exposed to the unofficial and unwar- ranted——" “Oh. let him go on.” broke in Charlton, impatiently. 'm just as anxious to have the facts brought out as any one else.” “You don't know.” repeated the cross-examiner, “Most of us know Wh'er;lw': spend our nights “1 think I was walking in m. part of the time.” % i “Ah! Laying the foundation of your defense? * Possibly you'd like us to believe that you waylaid and shot down Delano in your sleep.” The lawyer's suggestion was, of course. sardonic. Yet for the mo- ment 1 saw the shock of a terrific surmise stiffen Charlton’s face. “I—T- " he began: but he broke off. shaking his head indeterminately. “Since you can't tell how you spent your night. I will tell you,” continued the self-appointed prosecutor, ven- omopsly. “In detail! Under pretense of ng to bed early, you sneaked down to the dock, got out your canoe and paddled down the lake to Doom river, and up-river to Hanging bridge. There you waited for Delano. In the moonlight he was a fair mark as he stepped onto the bridge. You couldn’t miss him, and you dido’t But he $ti11 had strength enough left to jump and try to save himself. Or perhaps you climbed to the bridge, pushed the body off and thrust it under the hyacinths.” “Having flrgt robbed §t?”.The in- quiry was in the psychologist's mild voice. “The Dody wasw't robbed,” retorted Hecken with 2 note of triumph. *“We found the roll of bHills intmct—nearly four hundréd dollers. Therefore the motive was som: else—jealousy. foe e > His provided a wvivid illustration of that emotion as he glanced towasd Sytvia, “Or may- hft'- revenge upoRl & man he couldn’t stand Up to 08 falr and terms.” ony” invited the professor. #Tou make out am Inferesting case. “The authorities will find it so, I romige you. Having finished the Job, ‘our murderer. whom you seem 80 keen on defending, professor, pad- dles comforiably back, comes ashore and sets bis canoe adrift.” “Wiy?" The professor's voice was most blandly interested. “How do I know?" other impatiently. returned the know the fact, be an odd thing for him to do.” pointed out the psychologist, “since the missing canoe might direct suspicion, whereas if it were In its place no one would ink s m'.ml&'u‘:;' do 034 and stupid “St1, | things.” argued the lawyer. “Others wise fewer would be caught. For ex. ample, Charlton's own obvious ref. to the murdér this morning*f , as you justly say, Mr. Heck er. And oddest of all is the bit of local doggerel which he repeated.” “I have no time for insignificant trifies—" began Hecker. “Surely not insignificant—a verse which none hereabout recalls or has ever heprd of. except one very old negro. Of quite singular interest, iv the circumstances'” *x x “THE circumstances are that Charl- ton disappears at night, re- turns in the morning: an enemy of his is killed in that time, and he i totally unable to account for him- ®elf and his actions. Add to that his confession, the irrepressible out- burst of a guilty conscience, and the case is complete.” “No.” said Sylvia Glenn Every one turned toward her. The air quivered with unspoken que tions. The silence itself seemed waiting. “I can account for Mr. Charlton's movements last night,” she continued steadily “Where was he”" demanded Hecker “In my cottag Again there w Then old Miss ¥ long whisper “Shameless '™ “I'm not ashamed.” i And if ever 1 saw pride and hig! courage and purity in arms against a deadiy challenge. they were in her tace “Sylvia™ eried Charlton. Tt isn't true “A touch of the theatrical” said Hecker in a rather hollow v “And if Miss Glenn will pardon m. rather a stale and unconvincing a alibi tempt at a 7 said ‘Yes— and for once ma with his prosecu word of truth in course, remember Mi: Glenn.” “I'm not sure that you did see me answered the girl. smiling wanly. ‘Your e, were open, but you s *d in a trance. You stumbled against the back steps, and I went out, and after trying to rouse you by speak- ing to you, brought you in It s sometimes cangerous to a somnam- bulist to wake them too roughly ™ “You have courage, Miss Sylvia,” sald the professor. “I've had experience. 1 nursed over- seas in the war., and have handled psychopathic cases. | got Mr. Charl- to to lie down on the sofa. and he closed his eyes and seemed to be resting. In the morning he was gone.” Miss French sniffed audibly . and with obvious signification. In the ex- pression of Mrs. Betterfield 1 could see the formulation 1o further queries for ouijt to answer. Hecker, who had looked puzzied and downcast, now showed signs of renewed determina- tion ’ “For the moment accepting youf statement, Miss Glenn—" “I tell you it isn't true” asserted Charlton. obstinately. “Can you tell us what time it was when the ac—when Mr. Charlton ar- rived?” “Two-thirty. T looked at my watch —a nurse’s habi “Rather fast time to have made in 1 canoe from Hanging bridge if the <hooting was at 1:15," observed Prof. Rainey. There was a touch of m licious enjoyment in his voice. “He may have come back by road.” aid Hecker. doggedly. “In that case he could have made it, you'll ad- mit.” . “Easily. And in that case he aban- doned the canoe in Doom river.” “Obviously.” “£nd it should be found stranded i/ the river or drifted into the lake. ‘As it doubtiess will be. “Permit me an exception to your ‘doubtless.’ Is your case concludeu™ “For the present. 1 shall turn over my notes to the prosecuting official for use in Charlton’s trial.” “If that interesting event ever takes nlace.” returned the other. smiling. “Meantime. Mr. Hecker, let me com- mend to your consideration the sub- ject of local proverbs in verse. * % % % ATE that afternoon a sheriff's of- ficer from Jasonville arrived, having come by train to the railroad station five miles distant. After talking with Hecker, he set himself o guard Sherwood Charlton, thouzh without putting the suspect under irrest. Shortly after his arrival Prof. Rainey disappeared. It was almost supper time when he returned, with 4 face upon which I noted the first avidence of_ discomposure. “ls anything wrong?' I asked, drawing him aside. “There is—that Infernal ouija board. Its message has spread, and the turpentine camp is discussisz the charge of the spirits accusing asir. Charitdn of the murder.” ou've been over to the cam ve just come from there. Youl remember that obese old ruffian and the tall, lank cripple, who toid Mr. Delano about the turkeys?” “Yes, Tapley and—I've forgotten - the lgme man’'s name “Carshaw—Saul Carshaw. And a precious pair of rascals they are. They are inciting the others to come over here this evening and lynch our young friend. So much,” he added bitterly, “for a dangerous toy and & pair of fools who do not comprehend unconscious muscular reflex.” "Do_you think they'll come “I fear it. Young Delano was popular with the turpentiners. The puir of rascals have overruled th objections of the camp foreman, who is the strongest man in the lot, and who, 1 think, dislikes and distrusts them, an_element of possible impo; tance. Mr. Heckler's revolver,” ob- served the psychologist with i Wry - smile, “may yet have opportunity to . prove its value.” » b “But the women!" I exclaimed. “We must get them out of the way, if there is to be a fight.” . “I shall lay the situation before a committee of the whole imme- diately.” The whole white populace of the place was all removed at once 1o the sitting room. Prof. Rainey laid be- fore them his information and sus- picions. Old Miss Gardner burst into frightened tears. “Theyll burn down the house, as they burned by grandfather's” she wept. Hecker shot a glance full of trium- phant malignance at Charlton. It might suggest itself to Mr. Charly ton's mind,” he said_ smoothiy. : escape while there is time and relieve § us of the danger of his presence. 4 Charlton, only & few hours before a2 vacillant, nervous wreck, was Bow _ quite master of himself in the face of a manifest peril. “Certainly.” he said. “Will some one loan me & gun?” ~If he goes, I go with him” said Sylvia Glenn. . Her tone was as cool and quiet as « if she were discussing the weather. Yet the most passionate avowal of love could have carried no clearct meaning. Hecker became livid. Be- - fore Charlton colud speak. the sher- ifr's officer stepped forward. He was a lank, sallow young man, with squinting eyes and a soft dra’ 5 "“This is my business, now. ladies ' and gentlemen,” he announced, “Mr. Chariton, you're my priloner:mlmh. “You put him under arrest?” asked Hecker: uny one as gits him has to ~ take him from me.” “Then take him away from here as quickly as possible, before the mob comes,” urged the lawyer. “] don't reckon that's quite so easy done,” rwturned the other, in his gentie tones. I reckon if the turpens tiners is up to anythin' they'll have the roads and trails all guarded be- fore mow. No; I'd rather fight frgm 1% Piiase, Mr. Officer.” pleaded Mi Gardner, “can‘t you take him somk- where? You surely dom't expect to be able to defend this place ugainst b not very good,” admitted 'm aimin’ to o Fifth Page.) ‘ v |