The Syracuse Journal, Volume 20, Number 40, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 2 February 1928 — Page 9

Idle Island By ETHEL HUESTON

STORY FROM THE START On the verge of nervous collapse, due io overwork. Gay Delane, successful New York artist, seeks rest at Idle Island She rents a cottage, the “Lone Pine." from an Island character, the ■’Captain," and his sister, Alice Andover, “administrator.” Gay finds the cottage is tenanted by an elderly lady. “Auntalmiry. - ’ who consents to move to another abode, the “Apple Tree.'’ Awaking from sleep. Gay Imagines she sees the face of a Chinaman peering in the window She settles down in her new home, anticipating months of wellearned rest and recuperation.

CHAPTER lll—Continued The farthest of these houses, built at the Inst, stand, where the forest and the shore-line merged, was the Lone Pine. Beyond all others, farther, •higher, alone It stood, aloof, remote. Beyond the Lone Pine, on the peninsula of forest land that ended In sheer rocky cliffs, was but one other building. This was known as the Little (Tub house. - The Little Club had been a daring social venture for a group of Portland business men in the years when sailing was the foremost summer sport along the coast. In chose days, every man of means In the city had his own boat, and the Little Club house was their summer rendezvous. As the men of Portland took up motoring, the vogue for sailboats passed. Year by year the Little club in the cove saw less and less of social life, and finally, for a period of seven years. It had been/opened but once each summer, when the remnant of the old group came by motor boat for a great week-end orgy of lobster, fish, and. it was rumored, forbidden brew. For the last three years even this mild burst of diversion had been abandoned, and the fatuous old Little duh was as dead as the oldest gray pine in the woodland. The Little Club house was built with the natural rock of the shore as a genera) base, as indeed were most , of the Island bouses along the coast. X A wide piazza circled three sides of the house, and on the north gave it a •far view of sea and sky. Gay was not long in discovering this deserted piazza. and sometimes went with her sketching pad, which she carried on all occasions, and sat there, idly -drawing in the pleasant shade. Gay often leaned far out over the piazza railing, trying to see beneafh, wishing the distance were less, that she could drop down. And then one day, when her strength had come again, and her most venturesome mood was upon her, she slipped under the Tailing on the eastern side of the dub house, and holding with both bands, now to the wild branches that grew in the crevices, now to the rough and ragged rocks themselves, slowly, stumbling, falling, splashing tierself with water in the lower places, cutting and bruising her hands, she struggled on until she reached the little stretch of sheltered beach. “I knew I could do It." she said <ockily, waving away the reproachful stinging of her torn bands. “I said I would, and I did.” She ran at once to the club house, under the She found a full lower story of the -se there, with a wide door, and two windows,' but they were heavily framed in wooden shutters, further protected by stout iron gratings, and secured with heavy patented locks. Gay shook the rusted lock Impatiently. “I’d love to get tn,” she thought “Perhaps it is a haunted chateau. Whoever heard of an island without a haunted chateau?” The little cove was a pretty one. marvelously well protected. On the left side the rocky ledge ran far out. curving like a bow. it was among the rocks on the left that the old boat house stood, but although Gay pulled at the lock, even banged at it with a stone, it would not yield. Ev■ery crack was seated, and the windows were boarded and barred. “Stingy things,” she said crossly. “The way they keep themselves locked up you’d think they were a band of bootleggers.” As she stood in the sandy beach, looking out. her eyes shone with pleasure. She forgot the hard struggle with the rocks, she did not think of her torn and bleeding bands. • The tide was coming in. nearly full, and she was obliged to move back a step or two to avoid a wetting. But •he could not tear herself from the place. And then, as she stood, she •aw the Incoming waves bore freight —a barrel—no, a sack—no— Gay watched it curiously and felt the little thrill of excitement that alwayr comes with thought of treasure borne by the sea. - “Treasure trove," she whispered. “Pirate’s prize. Finders keepers.” ~ Now it swept far forward on the wave. Then it receded again, sucked back by the outgoing water. But caught full at last by the surging tide. It swept close in to shore. “Oh, 1 do believ. It Is a sea-chest-wrapped In rugs—or—•omqtiiing,” she pried aloud Joyously. “oh, 1 believe It Is’” Slw* ran out a few steps, regardless r.f water that splashed about her. far forward, ready to

catch ik»i«i when It came nearer. Suddenly it turned, swung toward her Guy cried out. faintly. She saw It. plainly. It was the body of a man. The hands heneath the water showed faintly radiant, the face shone palely Grating tn the sand, surging in the water, it slid up on the shore, swung at her feet, and the receding waves sucked at It jealously. Stifling her innate repulsion. Gay thrust out a stiff, resentful, unwilling hand, closed her fingers firmly on the flapping lapel of the coat, and with the help of the next incoming wave, she drew It high up on the sand beyond the water line. No hope of resuscitation for that unfortunate. Already It was set in the rigidity u death. And over the temple gaped a great dark bulletwound. where the stiff hair, dripping salt water, clung thickly tn the blood that had drenched it. the edges washed flabby-white. Gay turned away from It. instinctively recoiling, her natural thought to run quickly far from the terrible sight But as she turned her eyes fell on the hand that lay flung out <>n the sand, a long fine hand, a hand that even in death suggested the emotions of life, desire, tenderness, passion. that had tingled In Its finger tips. Gay’s eyes hung to It. spellbound, and then, slowly, swept to the face again. It was a tired face. worn, all set Into grim hard lines; had probably been a handsome face in life, the head finely shaped, the forehead high, the chin slender and clear-cut. The lips had been delicate and fine before that last grim anxiety had locked them into this hard cast. Gay shuddered, buried her face in her hands. Then she stood jp. suddenly determined, and called for help again and again, her clear high voice ringing nnd reverberating among the She Struggled On Until She Reached the Little Stretch -of- Sheltered Beach. rock: that bound the cove. It was seldom that strollers came through the woods so far. and the cottages were far removed. There was no answer. although she continued to call even when she had ceased to expect response. And so at last, bravely, she took responsibility to herself, set her lips hard and bent down to draw the body higher on the sand, beyond reach of the tide at its highest point She lifted the outthrown hand and laid it gently back upon the breathless breast, and spread her wispy handkerchief. pitifully, over the pale set face. Then, tn a fresh accession of horror, she ran wildly upon the rocks of the cliff, clambering over them, struggling feverishly in her haste, and her terror was magnified by her flight, so that she sobbed aloud, fell often tn her foolish frenzy, and cut herself, but did not feel the pain. Out of the rocks, disheveled, soiled, her pale face streaked with tears, she stopped to recompose herself, adjusted her blouse and belt, and tried to wipe the telltale marks of fear from her face. In a semblance of order at last. she ran through the woods, and down the lane to the Captain's house. The Captain, sh.tcked by her white and frightened face even more than by the incoherent tale she told, extri cated himselt from the fold of dog and cats with nervous impatience, and brushed against two granddaughters in his haste to get Gay into a chair before she fainted. “Do tell.” he chattered gently, “dear, dear, now. what are things coming to?—Lida, give Miss Gay here some good hot tea. I’ll go right down there and—” “I’ll go back with you am' show you.” Gay proffered quickly. “No. no. miss, tea’s what you need, quiet’s what’ you need. Lida, give her some more tea—l’ll take the boys with me. We’ll have to work It up over those rocks some way." He hurried away, an eager, brave, frail little figure. Naturally, the Captain did not go direct to the cove. He went first to the Pier grocery store to recount the grewsome tale. Then he stopped by the way to pick up the Budlong boys, two drivers from the taxi stand, Mr. Allenby, the weather man, and Lumley Lane. With these enforcements, and followed by a • troop of a dozen or more small boys shouting directions and calling inquiries, with two or three of the hardier native women trudging along at a respectful distance in the rear, they at last began the hard descent over the rocky cliffs and ledges that bordered the cove. Helping one another as best they could, scrambling each man to keep pace with the man ahead, all alike anxious for the first frightful, horrid view, they stumbled over the rocks, grunting, swearing softly tn the nasal New England drawl, and reached the cove at last, leaning forward, staring about them. Then they stood erect, with sheepish grins, and looked the length and breadth of the cove. There were many 'ootprints tn the sand, there were scattered logs, bits of driftwood, the wreck of an old boat, there were shells and seaweqd and fatten trees. But there was Ino dren-hed Sea-

washed hotly on the sand, no trace or red blood on the clean yellow, no sign of human driftwood from the. sea. CHAPTER IV Satisfied at last that their eyes did not deceive tjiem, that In very truth there was no body in the cove, the men of the searching party drew to. get her, looked from one to another with sheepish deprecating grins. “By gar, she done us,” roared Lumley fjtne with his great guffaw. “The little New Yorker done us right* Led by the Captain, they tried the doors of the boathouse, of the Little club itself, but all were locked secure and silent. They called a few times, loud hulloos, but received no answer. “Was she flim-flammtn’, Gamp?’’ asked one of the Budlong boys. “No,” said the Captain, with his usual soft decisiveness. “She was cryin’, ner face all streaked and white, tremblin’ all over. She didn’t alm to slim-slam nobody. She thought she saw something, that’s all." They returned the way they had come, and although the men bung about the Captain’s door, hoping for a glimpse of the erratic New Yorker who had sent them on their hard chase for the wild goose, the Captain, considerately, left them without and closed the door behind him. Tlie Captain looked compassionately at Gay. “There wa’n’t nobody drownded.” he said gently. “There wa’n’t nobody shot. There wa’n’t nothing but sticks and stones In the cove.” Gay leaped to her feet giddily, and the women fell back, respectfully, to give her room. “There —wasn’t?" she gasped. “But (here was!’ He had dark hair, and long fine hands-Mth. nonsense!—l can see him this moment as plainly as— My handkerchief. I spread It over his poor face. 1 Did you bring my handkerchief?" “You’re all tired out. Gay,” he said gently. “Yon work too hard. You seen a hallucination, that’s all. It was driftwood ridin’ in. Seaweed, maybe. Things alius looks like men under the water. There a’n’t nobody in the cove. Gay.” Gay brushed past him, her hand on the door. “Where you goin’?” “To the cove. To see for myself. I don’t believe a word of It.” she de clared feverishly, with no thought for the rudeness of her words In the shock of her surprise. “Yon haven’t been there at all. You are deceiving me. Os course there is a body in the cove!” With ineffable patience, despite his weariness, the Captain set out to fol low. After a few hot running steps Gay watted for him tn cojne up to her “You needn’t go. Captain." she said kindly. “You are tired, and It is such a hard way." “Oh. that’s all right I’m still good on my legs ” “You oughtn’t to live there by your self. Gay. Women ha’n’t no call to live alone. - It a’n’t Recordin’ to natur' Thhy get queer. They get to thinkin things, they get to seein’ thlngsghosts an’ sech. Yon better go to the hotel. Gay, for the rest of the suit mer. I’ll let you off on the rest of the house. It a’n’t accordin’ to natur’ livin’ alone.” Gay made no answer, but she smiled at him, and when they came at last to the precipitous cliffs that girt the cove, she led the way. stumbling, sliding falling, while the Captain grunted and softly swore beneath his breath behind her. In the cove, at last, she turned with her usual brisk assurance, and flung out a hand toward the spot where the body had lain. Then her eyes widened, her Ifps parted and she stared, aghast. The captain was right There was no body on the sand. Except for themselves, the cove was void of life, as ft was void of death. Flashes of light swam before her eyes, and she swayed dizzily. ‘Tit just sff down a minute to get my wind back.” the Captain panted and dropped down heavily on a low rock, mopping away great beads of perspiration with his red handkerchief. Gay pulled herself together. “Somebody took him away whtte I was gone,” she said tn a low vofee. “I was not fooling you. I left him right here. See, rhe sand ts wet from where he lay.” “It splashed from the surf." be said. • “I put his hand on his breast, ami my handkerchief I spread over his •face. Captain, do you think I'm crazy?” she demanded indignantly. “No, Gay. no. I don’t think you’re crazy.” he said stoutly. “But you hadn’t ought .to live alone, it a’n’t good for women, makes ’em queer; a’n’t accord!; to natur’.” Gay smiled rather wanly. “1 am sorry for all the trouble I have caused you. I am sure you know that I had no desire to deceive -on, deliberately. lam very sorry. Will you go on home now, and leave me? I have my sketch pad In my pocket I am going to draw the face from memory, and perhaps you will recognize It. I want to do It while it is all fresh tn my thought.” The Captain demurred, but Cay stood firm against him. and his objections dwindled. He went off at last, a sturdy little figure, for all his frailty and his hent shoulders. Gay picked out a seat for herself among the rocks and fell at once to work. She could see it all so vividly that her flesh crawled as she reproduced the picture from memory—the small bit of sand below the rocks, the limp body in its drenched clothes, the dark hair, the fj.ne head, the gaping wound, and outflung on the sand the pale hand, long, slim and powerful, the hand of a gentleman, hand of a scholar, hand that betrayed tntenstly of feeling. It was the hand that had stirred Gay most deeply, and when it lay before her tn her penciled sketch, delicate and strong, she buried her face in her two hands and burst Into nervous weeping. But tn a moment she controlled herself, shook away her tears crossly, and dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, lacking the wispy handkerchief that was gone. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

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