Jasper County Democrat, Volume 17, Number 10, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 May 1914 — The Hollow of Her Hand [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Hollow of Her Hand

by George Barr M c Cutcheon.

Author of “Grau st ar kJ “Truxton King,"etc. ILLUSTRATIONS by ELLSWCKTHTOUNG z L COPY-RIGHT-1912 - BY . - GEORGE BARK M°CUTCREfIM COPYRIGHT. 1912. BY -—^JDODD, MEAH COMPANY

SYNOPSIS. CHAPTER I—Challis Wrandall is founl murdered in a road house near New York. :Mrs. Wrandall is summoned from the city and identifies the body. A young woman who accompanied Wrandall to the inn and subsequently disappeared is suspected. Wrandall, it appears, had led a gay life and neglected his wife. Mrs. Wrandall starts back for New York in an auto during a blinding snow storm. CHAPTER II —On the way she meets a young woman in the road who proves to be the woman who killed Wrandall. Feeling that the girl had done her a service in ridding her of the man who. though she loved him deeply, had caused her great sorrow, Mrs. Wrandall determines to shield her and takes her to her own home. CHAPTER lll—Mrs. Wrandall hears the story of Hetty Castleton’s life, eicept that portion that relates to Wrandall. The story of the tragedy she forbids the girl ever to tell her. She offers Hetty a home, friendship and security from peril on account of the tragedy. / CHAPTER IV—Mrs. Sara Wrandall and Hetty attend the funeral of Challis Wrandall at the home of his parents. Sara had always been treated as an interloper by the snobbish Wrandall family, but the tragedy seems to draw them closer together. i

CHAPTER VI.

Southlook. Sara Wrandall’s house in the country stood on a wooded knoll overlooking the sound. It was rather remotely located, so far as neighbors were concerned. Her father, Sebastian Gooch, shrewdly foresaw the day when land in this particular section of the suburban world would return dollars for pennies, and wisely bought thousands of acres: woodland, meadowland, beachland and hills, inserted between the environs of New York city and the rich towns up the coast. Years afterward he built a commodious summer home on the choicest point that his property afforded, named it Southlook, and transformed that particular part of his wilderness into a millionaire’s paradise, where he could dawdle and putter to his heart’s content, where he could spend his time and his money-with a prodigality that came so late in life to him that he made waste of both in his haste to live down a rather parsimonious past. Two miles and a half away, in the heart of a scattered colony of purseproud New Yorkers, was the country home of the Wrandalls, an imposing place and older by far than Southlook. It had descended from wellworn and time-stained ancestors to Redmond Wrandall, and, with others of its kind, looked with no little scorn upon the modern, mushroom structures that sprouted from the seeds of trade. There was no friendship between the old and the new. Each had recourse to a bitter contempt for the other, though consolation was small

in comparison. It was in the wooded by-ways of this despised domain that Challis Wrandall and Sara, the earthly daughter of Midas, met and loved and defied all things supernal, for matches are made in heaven. Their marriage did not open the gates of Nineveh. Sebastian Gooch’s paradise was more completely ostracised than it was before the disaster. The Wrandalls spoke of it as a disaster. Clearfy the old merchant was not over-pleased with his daughter’s choice, a conclusion permanently established by the alteration he made

in hiq will a year or two after the marriage. True, he left the vast estate to his beloved daughter Sara, but he fastened a stout string to it, and with this string her hands were tied. It must have occurred to him that Challis was a profligate in more ways than one, for he deliberately stipulated in his will that Sara was not to sell a foot of the ground until a period of twenty years had elapsed. A very polite way, It would seem, of making hie investment safe in the face of considerable odds. He lived long enough after the making of bls will, I am happy to relate, to find that he had made no mistake. As he preceded his son-in-law Into the great beyond by a scant three years, It readily may be seen that he wrought too well by far. Seventeen unnecessary years of proscription remained, and he had not Intended them for Sara alone. He was not afraid of Sara, but for her. , When the will was read and the condition revealed, Challis Wrandall took It in perfect good humor. He had the grace to proclaim in the bosom of his father’s family that the old gentleman was a father-in-law to be proud Of. “A canny old boy,” he had announced with his most engaging smile, quite free from rancor or resentment. Challis was well acquainted with himself. And so the acres were strapped together snugly and finely, without «o much as a town lot protruding. So impressed was Challis by th • .farsightedness of his father-indaw that he forthwith sat him down and made a will of his own. He would not have It said that Sara's father did a whit better by lier than he would, do. He

left everything he possessed to his wife, but put no string to it, blandly Implying that all danger would be past when she came into possession. There was a sort of grim humor in the way he managed to present himself to view as the real and ready source of peril. Sara and Hetty did not stay long in town. The newspapers announced the return of Challis Wrandall’s widow and reporters sought her out for interviews. The old Interest was revived and columns were printed about the murder at Burton’s inn, with sharp editorial comments on the failure of the police to clear up the mystery. “I shall ask Leslie down for the week-end,” said Sara, the third day

after their arrival in the country. The house was huge and lonely, and time hung rather heavily despite the glorious uplift of spring. Hetty looked up quickly from her book. A look of dismay flickered in her eyes for an instant and then gave way to the calmness that had come to dwell in their depths of late. Her lips parted in the sudden impulse to cry out against the plan, but she checked the words. For a moment her dark, questioning eyes studied the face of her benefactress; then, as if nothing had been revealed to her, she allowed her gaze to drift pensively out toward the sunset sea. They were sitting on the broad verandah overlooking the sound. The dusk of evening was beginning to steal over the earth. She laid her book aside. “Will you telephone in to him after dinner, Hetty?” went on Sara, after a long period of silence. Again Hetty started. This time a look of actual pain flashed in her eyes. “Would not a note by post be more certain to find him in the —” she began hurriedly. “I dislike writing notes,” said Sara calmly. “Of course, dear, if you feel that you’d rather not telephone him, I can—” “I dare say I am finicky, Sara,” apologized Hetty in quick contrition. “Of course he is your brother I should

remem—” , “My brother-in-law, dear,” said Sara, a trifle too literally. “He will come often to your house,” went on Hetty rapidly. "I must make the best of it.” “He is your friend, Hetty. He admires you.” “I cannot see him through your eyes, Sara.” “But he is charming and agreeable, you’ll admit," persisted the other. “He is very kind, and be is devoted to you. I should like him 'for that." “You have no cause for disliking him.” “I do not dislike him. I —l am —Oh, you always have been so thoughtful, so considerate, Sara, I can’t understand your failing to see how hard it is for me to—to—well, to endure his open-hearted friendship.” Sara was silent for a moment. “You draw a pretty fine line, Hetjty,” she said gently. Hetty flushed. “You mean that there is little to choose between wife and brother? That isn’t quite fair. You know everything, he knows nothing. I wear a mask for him; you have seen into the very heart of me. It isn’t the same.” • - '' * ’ Sara came over and stood beside the girl’s, chair. After a moment of indecision she laid her hand on Hetty’s shoulder. The girl looked up, the ever--jecurring Question in her eyes." . ' “We haven’t spoken of—of these things in many months, Hetty.” “Not since Mrs. Wrandall and Vivian came to Nice. I was upset—dreadfully. upset then, .Sara. I don’t know how I managed to get through with it.’’ ' “But you managed it,’’ pronounced

Sara. Her fingers seemed to tighten suddenly on the girt’s shoulder. "I think we were quite wonderful, both of u-. It wasn’t easy for me.” “Why did we come back to New York, Sara?” burst out Hetty, clasping her friend's hand as if suddenly spurred by terror. “We were happy over there. And free!” “Listen, my dear,” said Sara, a hard note growing in her voice: “this is my home. I do not love it, but I can see no reason for abandoning it. That is why we came back to New York.” Hetty pressed her friend’s hand to her lips. “Forgive me,” she cried Impulsively. “I shouldn’t have comcomplained. It was detestable.” “Besides,” went on Sara evenly, “you were quite free to remain on the, other side. I left it to you.” “You gave me a week to decide,” said Hetty In a hurried manner of speaking. “I —I took but twenty-four hours—less than that. Over night, you remember. I love you, Sara. I could not leave you. All that night I could feel you pulling at my heart strings, pulling me closer, and holding me. You were in your room, I in mine, and yet all the time you seemed to be bending over me In the darkness, urging me to stay with you and love you and be loved by you. It couldn’t have been a dream.” “It was not a dream,” said Sara, with a queer smile. “You do love me?” tensely. “I do lovelyou,” was the firm answer. Sara was staring, across the water, her eyes big and as black as night itself. She seemed to be looking far beyond the misty lights that bobbled with nearby schooners, far beyond the yellow mass on the opposite shore where a town lay cradled In the shadows, far Into the fast darkening sky that came up like a wall out of the east.

Hetty’s fingers tightened in a warmer clasp. Unconsciously perhaps, Sara’s grip on the girl’s shoulder tightened also; unconsciously, for her thoughts were far away. The younger woman’s pensive gaze rested on the peaceful waters below, taking In the slow approach of the fog that was soon to envelop the land. Neither spoke for many minutes: Inscrutable thinkers, each a prey to thoughts that leaped backward to the beginning and took up the puzzle at its Inception. “I wonder —’’ began Hetty, her eyes narrowing with the intensity of thought. She did not complete the sentence. Sara answered the unspoken question. “It will never be different from what it is now,, unless you make it so.” Hetty started. “How could you have known what I was thinking?” she cried in wonder. “It is what you are always thinking, my dear. You are always asking yourself when will I turn against you,” “Sara!” “Your own intelligence should supply the answer to all the questions ydu are asking of yourself. It is too late for me to turn against you.” She abruptly removed her hand from Hetty’s shoulder and walked to the edge of the veranda. For the first time, the English girl was conscious of pain. She drew her arm up and cringed. She pulled the light scarf about her bare shoulders. ' The butler appeared in the doorway. “The telephone, if you please, Miss Castleton. Mr. Leslie Wrandall Is calling.” (TO BE CONTINUED.)

Hetty Looked Up Quickly From the Book.