Jasper County Democrat, Volume 17, Number 2, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 April 1914 — The Hollow of Her Hand [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Hollow of Her Hand

by George Barr McCutcheon

Author of “Gran stark." “Truxton Kingletc. I ILLUSTRATIONS by ELLSWCSmTOG

COFVRiaHT-1912 - BY GEORGE BARR M c CUTCHEOB COPYRIGHT .1914-BY ■ODODD, MEAD COMBABY

Hetty Castreton. At half past six she went to the telephone and called for the morning newspapers. At the same time she asked that a couple of district messenger boys be sent to her room with the least possible delay. The hushed, scared voice of the telephone girl downstairs convinced her that news of the tragedy was abroad; she could imagine the girl looking at the headlines with awed eyes even ae she responded to the call from room 416, and her shudder as she realized that It was the wife of the dead man speaking.

One of the night clerks, pale and agitated, came up with the papers. Without as much as a glance at the headlines, she tossed the papers on the table. “I have sent for tw T o messenger boys. It is too early to accomplish much by telephone, I fear. Will you be so kind as to telephone at seven o’clock or a little after to my apartment?—You will find the number under Mr. Wrandall’s name. Please inform the butler or his wife that they may expect me by ten o’clock, and that I shall bring a friend with me—a young lady. Kindly have my motor sent to Haffner’s garage, and looked after. When the reporters come, as they will, please say to them that I will see them at my own home at eleven o’clock.”

The clerk, considerably relieved, took his departure in Borne haste, and she was left with the morning papers, each of which she scanned rapidly. The details, of course, 1 were meager. There was a double-leaded account of her visit to the inn and her extraordinary return to the city. Her chief interest, however, did not rest in these particulars, but in the speculations of the authorities as to the identity of the mysterious woman—and her whereabouts. There was the likelihood that she was not the only one who had encountered the girl on the highway or in the neighborhood of the inn. So far as she could glean from the reports, however, no one had seen the girl, nor was there the slightest hint offered as to her identity. The papers of the previous afternoon had j published lurid accounts of the murder, with all of the known details, the name of the victim at that time still being a mystery. She remembered reading the story with no little interest. Thq only new feature in the case, therefore, was the identification of Challis Wrandall by his “beautiful wife,” and the sensational manner in 1 which it had been brought about. With considerable interest she noted 1 the hour that these dispatches had been received from “special correspondents,” and wondered where the shrewd, lynx-eyed reporters napped while she was at the inn. All of the dispatches were timed three o’clock and each paper characterized its issue as an “Extra,” with Challis Wrandall’s &&xn6 in huge type across as many columns as the dignity of the sheet permitted. Not a word of the girl! Absolute mystery! Mrs. Wrandall returned to her post beside the bed of the sleeper in the adjoining room. Deliberately she placed the newspaper on a chair near the girl’s pillow, and then raised the window shades to let in the hard gray light of early mom. It was not her pfesent intention to arouse the wan 6tranger, who slept as one dead. So gentle was her breathing that the watcher stared in some fear at the fair, smooth breast that seemed scarcely to rise and fall. For a long time she stood beside the bed, looking down at the face of the sleeper, a troubled expression in her eyes. “I wonder how many times you were seen with him, and where, and by whom,” were the questions that ran in a single strain through her mind. “Where do you come from? Where did you meet him? Who is there that knows of your acquaintance with him?”

Her lawyer came in great haste and perturbation at eight o’clock, in response to the letter delivered by one of the messengers. A second letter had gone by like means to her husband’s brother, Leslie Wrandall, instructing him to break the news to his father an<) mother and to come to her apartment after he had attended to the removal of the body to the family home near Washington square. She made it quite plain that she did not want Challis Wrandall’s body to lie under the roof that sheltered her. Hie family had resented their marriage. Father, mother and sister had Objected to her from the beginning, not because she was unworthy, but because her tradespeople ancestry was not bo remote as his. She found a curious sense of pleasure in returning to them the thing they prized so highly and surrendered to her with such bitterness of heart. She had not been good enough for him; that was their attitude. Now she was returning him to them, as one would return an article

that had "been tested and found ho he worthless. She would have no more of him! Carroll, her lawyer, an elderly man of vast experience, was not surprised to find her quite calm and reasonable. He had come to know her very well in the past few years. He had been her father’s lawyer up to the time of that excellent tradesman’s demise, and he had settled the estate with such unusual dispatch that the heirB —there were many of them —regarded him as ; an admirable person and —kept him J busy ever afterward straigtening out I their own affairs. Which goes to prove that policy is often better than honj esty.

“I quite understand, my d£ar, that while it is a dreadful shock to you, you are perfectly reconciled to the — er—to the —well, 1 might say the culmination of his troubles,” said Mr. Carroll tactfully, after she had related for his .benefit the story of the night’s adventure, with reservation concerning the girl who slumbered in the room beyond. “Hardly that, Mr. Carroll. Resigned, perhaps. I can’t say that I am reconciled. All my life I shall feel that I have been cheated ” she said. He looked up sharply. Something in her tone puzzled him. "Cheated, my dear? Oh, I see. Cheated out of years and years of happiness. I see.” She bowed her head. Neither spoke for a full minute.

“It’s a horrible thing to say, Sara, but this tragedy does away with another and perhaps more unpleasant alternative; the divorce I have been urging you to consider for so long.” “Yes, we are spared all that,” she said. Then she met his gaze with a sudden flash of anger in her eyes. “But I would not have divorced him—never. You understood that, didn’t you?” “You couldn’t have gone on for ever, my dear child, enduring the —” She stopped him with a sharp exclamation. “Why discuss it now? Let the past take care of itself, Mr. Car-

! rofl. The past came to an end night before last, so far as I am concerned. I | want advice for the future, not for the : past.” j He drew back, hurt by her manner. 1 She was quick to see that she had offended him. “I beg your pardon, my best of ' friends,” she cried earnestly. He smiled. "If you will take pres- ! ent advice,' Sara, you will let go of yourself for a spell and see if tears I won’t relieve the tension under —” | “Tears!” she cried. “Why should I | give way to tears? What have I to weep for? That man up there in the country? The cold, dead thing that . spent its last living moments without a thought of love for me? Ah, no, my i friend; I shed all my tears while he was Alive. There are none left to be shed for him now. He exacted his full share of them. It was his pleasure to wring them from me because he knew I loved him. She leaned forward and spoke slowly, distinctly, so - that he would never forget the words. “But listen to me, Mr. Carroll. You aleo know that I loved him. Can you believe me when I say to you that I hate that dead thing up there in Burton’s inn as no one eVer hated before? Can you understand what 1 mean? 1 hate that dead body, Mr. Carroll. I loved the life that was in it. It‘ was the life of him that 1 loved, the warm, appealing life of him. It has gone out Some one less amiable than 1 suffered : at his hands and—well, that is enough. I hate the dead body she left behind her, Mr. Carroll.” ! The lawyer wiped the cool moisture from his brow. ! “1, think I understand.” he said, but he was filled with wonder. “Extraordinary! Ahem! I should say—Ahem! Dear me! Yes, yes—l’ve never really thought of it in that .light.” "I dare say you haven’t,” she said, lying back in the chair as if suddenly exhausted.

**By the way, my dear, have you breakfasted?” "No. I hadn’t given it a thought Perhaps it would be better if I had some coffee—”

"I will ring for a waiter,” he said, springing to his feet ”lfot now, please. I have a young friend in the other room—a guest who arrived last night She will attend to It when she awakes. Poor thing, It has been dreadfully trying for her.” “Good heaven, I should think so,” said he, with a glance at the closed door. “Is she asleep?" “Yes. I shall not call her until you have gone.” “May I inquire—” “A girl I met recently—an English girl,” said she succinctly, and forthwith changed the subject “There are a few necessary details that must be attended to, Mr. Carroll. That is why I sent for you at this early hour. Mr. Leslie Wrandall will take charge— Ah!” she straightened up suddenly. “What a farce it is going to be!” Half an hour later he departed, to rejoin her at eleven o’clock, when the reporters were to be expected. He was to do all the talking for her. While he was there, Leslie Wrandall called her up on the telephone. Hearing but one side of the rather prolonged conversation, he was filled with wonder at the tactful way in which she met and parried the inevitable questions and suggestions coming from her horror-stricken brother-in-law. Without the slightest trace of offensivene6s in her manner, she gave Leslie to understand that the final obsequies must be conducted in the home of his parents, to whqm once more her husband belonged, and that she would abide by all arrangements his family elected to make. Mr. Carroll surmised from the trend of conversation that young Wrandall was about to leave for the scene of the tragedy, and that the house was In a state of unspeakable distress. The lawyer smiled rather grimly to himself as he turned to look out of the window. He did not have to be told that Challis was the idol of the family, and that, so far as they were concerned, he could do no wrong! After his departure, Mrs. Wrandall gently opened the bedroom door and was surprised to find the girl wideawake, resting on one elbow, her staring eyes fastened on the. newspaper that topped the pile on the chair. Catching sight of Mrs. Wrandall she pointed to the paper with a trembling hand and cried out, in a voice full of horror:

“Did you place them there for me to read? Who was with you in the other room just now? Was it some one about the —some one looking for me? Speak! Please tell me. I heard a man’s voice—” The other crossed quickly to her side. “Don’t be alarmed. It was my lawyer. There is nothing to fear—at present Yes, I left the papers there for you to see. You can see what a sensation it has caused. Challis Wrandall was one of the most widely known men in New York. But I suppose you know that without my telling you.” The girl sank back with a groan. “My God, what have I done? What will come of it all?” “I wish I could answer that question,” said the other, taking the girl’s hand in hers. Both were trembling. After an instant’s hesitation, she laid her other hand in the dark, dishevelled hair of the wild-eyed creature, who still continued to stare at the headlines. “I am quite sure they will not look for you here, or in my home.” “In your home ?” “You are to go with me. I have thought it all over. It is the only way. Come, 1 must ask you to pull yourself together. Get up at once, and dress. Here are the things you are to wear.” She indicated the orderly pile of garments with a wave of her hand. Slowly the girl crept out of bed, confused, bewildered, stunned. “Where are my own things? I—l cannot accept these. Pray give me my own—” (TO BE CONTINUED.)

“You Did Not Know He Had a Wife?” She Cried.