Jasper County Democrat, Volume 16, Number 100, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 March 1914 — The Hollow of Her Hand [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Hollow of Her Hand

by George Barr M c Cutcheon

Author of “Grau stark.’ “Truxton King”etc.

ILLUSTRATIONS fry ELLSWORTH TOG

' COWRIGHT-1912 - BY GEORGE BARR MCCUTCHESW COPYRIGHT. 1912--BY • MEA.D COMI.X'NY

“I had not. If isn’t reasonable. No one about this place is suspected. We have thought of this, however: the murderess may have taken all of these things away with her in order to prevent immediate identification of her victim. She may have been clever enough for that. It would give her a start”

“Not an unreasonable conclusion, when you stop to consider, Mr. Sheriff, that the man took the initiative in that very particular,” said Mrs. Wrandall in such a self-contained way that the three men looked at her in ■wonder. Then she came abruptly to her feet. “It is very late, gentlemen. I am ready to go upstairs, Mr. Sheriff.” “I must warn you, madam, that Mr. Drake is reasonably certain that it is your husband,” said the coroner uncomfortably. “You may not be prepared for the shock that—” "I shall not faint, Dr. Sheef. If it is my husband I shall ask you to leave me alone in the room with him for a little while.” The final word trailed out into a long, tremulous wail, showing how’ near she was to the breaking point in her wonderful effort at selfcontrol. The men looked away hastily. They heard her draw two or three deep, quavering breaths; they could almost feel the tension that she was exercising over herself. The doctor turned after a moment and spoke very gently, but with professional firmness. “You must not think of venturing out in this wretched night, madam. It would be the worst kind of folly. Surely you will be guided by me—’by your own common sense. Mrs. Burton will be with

. you—” “Thank you, Dr. Sheef,” she interposed calmly. “It* what we all fear should turn, out to be the truth, I i could not stay here. I could not breathe. I could not live. If, on the other hand, Mr. Drake is mistaken, I shall stay. But if it is my husband, I cannot remain under the same roof with him, even though he be dead. I do not expect you to understand my feelings. It .would .be asking, too much of men—too much.” “I think I understand,” murmured Drake. ( “Come,” said the sheriff, arousing himself with an effort. She moved swiftly after him. Drake and the coroner, following close behind with Mrs. Burton, could not take i their eyes from the slender, graceful I figure. She was a revelation to them, j Feeling as they did that she was about to be confronted by the most appalling , crisis imaginable, they could not but marvel at her composure. Drake’s mind dwelt on the stories of the guillotine and the heroines who went up to it in those bloody days without so much as a quiver of dread. Somehow, to him, this woman was a heroine. They passed into the hall and mounted the stairs. At the far end of the corridor a man was seated in front of a closed door. He arose as the party approached. The sheriff . signed for him to open the door he 1 guarded. As he did so, a chilly blast i of air blew upon the f-'ces of those in the hall. The curtains in the window of the room were flapping and whipping in the wind. Mrs. Wrandall caught her breath. For the briefest ipstaut it seemed as though she was !on the point of faltering. She dropped farther behind the sheriff, her limbs . suddenly stiff, her hand going out to the w-all as if for support. The next i moment she was moving forward resolutely into the icy, dimly lighted room. A single electric light gleamed in the corner beside the bureau. Near the window stood the bed. She went swiftly toward it, her eyes fastened upon the ridge ’ that ran through the center of it: a still, white ridge that seemed without beginning or end. With nervous fingers the attendant lifted the sheet at the head of the bed and turned it back. As he let it fall across the chest of the dead man he drew back and turned his face away. She bent forward and then straightened her figure to its full height, without for an instant removing her gaze from the face of the man who lay before her: a dark-haired man gray in

deattn who must have been beautiful to look upon in the flush of life. For a long time she stood there looking, as motionless as the object on which she gazed. Behind her were the tense, keen-eyed men, not one of whom seemed to breathe during the grim minutes that passed. The wind howled about the corners of the inn, but no one heard it. They heard the beating of their hearts, even the ticking of their watches, but not the wail of the wind.

At last her hands, claw-like in their tenseness, went slowly to her temples. Her head dropped slightly forward, ari a great shudder ran through her body. The coroner started forward, expecting her to collapse. ,

“TPlease "go away"” "she was saying in an absolutely emotionless voice. “Let me stay here alone for a little while.”

That was all. The men relaxed. They looked at each other with a single Qufestion in their eyes. Was it quite safe to leave her alone with her dead? They hesitated. She turned on them suddenly, spreading her arms in a wide gesture of self-absolution. Her somber eyes swept the group.

“I can do no harm. This man is mine. I want to look at him for the last time—alone. Will you go?” “DO you mean, madam, that you intend to—” began the coroner in alarm. She clasped her hands. “I mean that I shall take my last look at him now—and here. Then you may do what you like with him. He is your dead—not mine. I do not want him. Can you understand? I do not want this dead thing. But there is something I should say to him, something that I must say. Something that no one must hear but the good God who knows how much he has hurt me. I want to say it close to those gray, horrid ears. Who knows? He may hear me!”

Wondering, the others backed from the room. She watched them until they closed the door. - * • • * v * • • Listening, they heard her lower the window. It squealed like a thing in fear. Ten minutes passed, The group in the hall conversed in whispers. “Poor thing,” said the innkeeper’s wife. ■

“Well,” said Drajce, taking a deep breath; “she won’tfhave to worry any more about his hot coming home nights. I say, this business will create a fearful sensation, sheriff. The Four Hundred will have a conniption fit.” “We’ve got to land that girl, whoever she is,” grated the official. “Now that we know who he is, it shouldn’t be hard to pick out the women he’s been trailing with lately. Then we can sift ’em down until the right one is left. It ought to be easy.” “I’m not so sure of it,” said the coroner, shaking his head. “I have a feeling that she isn’t one of the ordinary type. It wouldn’t surprise z me P she belongs to —well, you might say the upper ten. Somebody’s wife, don’t you see. That will make it rather difficult, especially as her tracks have been pretty well covered.” , “It beats me, how she got away without leaving a singje sign behind her,” acknowledged the sheriff. “She’s a wonder, that’s all I’ve got to say.” At that instant the door opened and Mrs. Wrandall appeared. She stopped short, confronting the huddled group, dry-eyed but as pallid as a ghost. Her eyes were wide, apparently unseeing; her colorless lips were parted in the drawn rigidity that suggested but one thing to the professional man who looks: the “risis sardonicus” of the strychnae victim. With a low cry, the doctor started forward, fully convinced that she had swallowed the deadly drug. “For God’s sake, madam,” he began, But as he spoke her expression changed; she seemed to be aware of their presence for the first time. Her eyes narrowed in a curious manner,

and the rigid lips seemed to surge with blood, presenting the effect of a queer, swift-fading emile that lingered long after her face was set and serious.

“I neglected to raise the window, Dr. Sheet, ’’ she said in a low voice. “It was very cold in there.” She shivered slightly. “Will you be so kind as to tell me what I am to do now? What formalities remain for me —” Tlsfe coroner was at her side. “Time enough for that, Mrs. Wrandall. The first thing you are to do is to take something warm to drink, and pull

yourself together a bit-—” She drew herself up coldly. “I am. quite myself. Dr. Sheef. Pray do not alarm yourself on my account. I shall be obliged to you, however, if you will tell me what I am to do as speedily as possible, and let me do it so that I may leave this—this unhappy place without delay. No! I mean it, sir. I am going tonight—-unless, of course,” 3he said, with a quick look at the sheriff, ‘‘the law stands in the way.” “You are at liberty to come and go as you please, Mrs. Wrandall,” said the sheriff, “but it is most for'hardy to think of—”

"Thank you, Mr. Sheriff,” she said, “for letting me go. I thought perhaps there might be legal restraint.” She sent a swift glance over her shoulder, and then spoke in a high, shrill voice, indicative of extreme dread and uneasiness: “Close the door to that room!” The door was standing wide open, just as she had left it. Startled, the coroner’s deputy sprang forward to close it. Involuntarily, all of her listeners looked in the direction of the room, as if expecting to see the form of the murdered man advancing upon them. The feeling, swiftly gone, was most uncanny.

"Close it from the inside,” commanded the coroner, with unmistakable emphasis. The man hesitated, and then did as he was ordered, but not without a curious look at the wife of the dead man, whose back was toward him.

"He will not find anything disturbed, doctor,” said she, divining his thought. “I had the feeling that something was creeping toward us out of that room.” “Yqu have every reason to be nervous, madam. The situation has been most extraordinary—most trying,” said the coroner. “I beg of you to come downstairs, where we may attend to a few necessary details without delay. It has been a most fatiguing matter for all of us. Hours without sleep, and such wretched weather.”

They descended to the warm little reception room. She sent at once for the inn keeper, who came in and glowered at her as if she were wholly responsible for the blight that had been put upon his place. “Will you be good enough to send some one to the station with me In your depot wagon?” she demanded without hesitation.

He stared. “We don’t run a ’bus in the winter time,” he said, gruffly. She opened the little chatelaine bag that hung from her Wrist and abstracted a card which she submitted to the coroner.

“Yon-will find, Doctor Sheef, that the car my husband came up here in belongs to me. This is the card issued by the state. It is in my name. The factory number is there. You may compare it with the one on the car. My husband took the car without obtaining rny consent.” “Joy riding,” said Burton, with an ugly laugh. Then he quailed before the look she gave him. _ “If no other means is offered, Doctor Sheef, I shall ask you to let me take the car. I am perfectly capable of driving' I have driven it in the country for two seasons. All I ask is that some one be directed to go with me to the station. No! Better tfian that, if there is some one here who is willing to accompany me to the city, he shall be handsomely paid for going. It is but little more than 30 miles. I refuse to spend the night in thisr house. That is final.”

They drew apart to confer, leaving her Bitting before the fire, a stark figure that seemed to detach itself entirely from its surroundings and their companionship. At last the coroner came to her side and touched her arm. “I don’t know what the district attorney and the police will say to it, Mrs. Wrandall, but I shall take it upon myself to deliver the car to you. The sheriff has gone out to compare the numbers. If he finds that the car is yours, he will see to it, with Mr. Drake, that it is made ready for you. I take it that we will have no difficulty in—” He hesitated, at a loss for words.

“In finding it again in case you need it for evidence?’’ she supplied. He nodded. “I shall make it a point, Doctor Sheef, to present the car to the state after it has served my purpose tonight. I shall not ride in it again.” “The sheriff has a man who will ride with you to the station or the city, whichever you may elect. Now, may I trouble you to make answer to certain questions I shall write out for you at once? The man is Challis Wrandall, your husband? You are positive?” “I am positive. He is—or w’as — Challis Wrandall.”

Half an hour later she was ready for the trip to New York city. -The clock in the office marked the hour as one. A toddied individual in a great buffalo coat waited for her outside, hiccoughing and bandying jest with the half-frozen men who had spent tho night with him in the forlorn hope of finding the girl. Mrs. Wrandall gave final instructions to the coroner and his deputy, who happened to be the undertaker’s assistant. She had answered all the questions that had been put to her, and had signed the document with a firm, untrembling hand. Her veil had been lowered ..since the beginning of the examination. They did not see her face; they only heard the calm, low voice, sweet with fatigue and dread. “I shall notify my brother-in-law as soon as I reach the city,” she said. “He will attend to everything. Mr. Leslie Wrandall, I mean. My husband’s only brother. He will be here in the morning, Doctor Sheef. My own apartment is not open. I have been Etfixing, ia a. Uatel since mv retain

j from Europe two days ago. But I shall attend to the opening of the place tomorrow. You will find me there.” The coroner hesitated a moment bei fore putting the question that had. come to his mind as she spoke. . “Two days ago, madam? May I inquire where your husband has been living during your absence abroad? When did you last see him alive?” I She did not reply for many sec- - onds, and then it was with: a perceptible effort. "I have not £eeh him since my return until—tonight,” she replied, a ! hoarse note creeping into her voice; “He did not meet me on my return. His brother Leslie came to the dock; He- hu said that Challis, who came back from Europe two weeks ahead of me, had been called to St. Ixmls on very important business. My husband had been living at his club, I understand. That is all I can tell you, sir.” "I see,” said the coroner, gently. 1 j opened the door for her and she passed but. A number of men were grouped about the throbbing motor car. They fell away as she approached, silently fading into the shadows like so many vast unwholesome ghosts The sheriff and Drake came forward. “This man will go with you, ma-

dam,” said the sheriff, pointing to an unsteady figure beside the machine. “He is the only one who will undertake it. They’re all played out, you see. He has been drinking, but only on account of the hardships he has undergone tonight. You wili be quite safe with Morley,” No snow was falling, but a bleak wind blew meanly. The air was free from particles of sleet;, wetly the fall of the night clung to the earth where it had fallen.

“If he will guide me to the Postroad, that is all I ask,’ said she hurriedly. Involuntarily she glanced upward. The curtains in an upstairs window were blowing inward and a dim light shone out upon the roof of the porch. Sfcie shuddered ami then climbed up to the seat and took her place at the wheel. A few moments later the three men standing in the middle of the road watched the car as it rushed away. "By George, she’s a wonder!” said the sheriff. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

A Great Shudder Ran Through Her Body.

"This Man Will Go With You, Madam," Said the Sheriff.