Classic Audiobook Collection - The Secret of Lonesome Cove by Samuel Hopkins Adams ~ Full Audiobook [mystery]

Episode Date: May 9, 2023

The Secret of Lonesome Cove by Samuel Hopkins Adams audiobook. Genre: mystery A body is found on the beach not far from a New England town one morning. Curiously, nobody recognizes the dead woman, and nobody in or near the town seems to be a suspect in a possible murder, therefore most of them assume that she simply washed ashore from a passing vessel. Only problem is vessels didn't pass that stretch of the coast because of it's peculiar tides and eddies; hence its name, Lonesome Cove. Following the finding of the body, the officials of the town start acting a bit peculiar towards how to handle the dead body. The sheriff, the attorney in the town, the village gossip, and even the town doctor all seem to want the identification of the body hushed up. And therefore the body is immediately buried, and the officials hope all will be forgotten and done with. Cause of death: drowning. Enter Chester Kent, who isn't convinced in the same way that the townspeople are, and is willing to pull at his ear lobe in an effort to determine the identity of the body, and how it came to it's demise. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:22:50) Chapter 02 (01:12:24) Chapter 03 (01:27:51) Chapter 04 (01:56:17) Chapter 05 (02:06:39) Chapter 06 (02:13:46) Chapter 07 (02:26:11) Chapter 08 (02:39:36) Chapter 09 (03:01:00) Chapter 10 (03:14:43) Chapter 11 (03:29:33) Chapter 12 (03:34:47) Chapter 13 (04:04:18) Chapter 14 (04:17:06) Chapter 15 (04:48:00) Chapter 16 (05:01:42) Chapter 17 (05:24:45) Chapter 18 (05:56:30) Chapter 19 (06:25:13) Chapter 20 (07:09:04) Chapter 21 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

chapter i of the secret of lonesome cove by samuel hopkins adams chapter one the body on the beach lonesome cove is one of the least frequented stretches on the new england sea board from the land side the sheer hundred-foot drop of hawk hill cliffs shuts it off access by water is denied denied with a show of menacing teeth when the sea curls its lips back amid a swirl of angry currents from its rocks and reefs warning boats away there is no settlement near the cove the sombreepute suggested by its name has served to keep cottagers from building on the wildly beautiful uplands that overbrewed the beach sheep browsed through the thickets of ash and wild cherry extending almost to the brink of the height and the straggling pathways along the edge worn by the feet of their herders afford the only suggestion of human traffic within half a mile of the spot a sharp-cut ravine leads down to the sea by a rather treacherous descent near the mouth of this opening a considerable gathering of folk speckled the usually deserted beach at noon of july sixth they centered on a dark object a few yards within the flood-tide limit some scouted about peering at the sand others pointed first to the sea then to the cliffs with the open gestures of those who argue vehemently but always their eyes returned drawn back by an unfailing magnetism to the central object from some distance away a lone man of a markedly different type from the others observed them with an expression of displeasure he had reached the cove by an arduous scramble possibly only to a good climber around the jutting elbow of the cliff to the northward it was easily to be read in his face that he was both

surprised and annoyed to find people there before him. One of the group presently detached himself and ambled over to the newcomer, with an accelerated speed as he drew nearer. "'Swanny!' he ejaculated. "'If it ain't Professor Kent! "'Didn't know you at first under them whiskers! "'You remember me, don't you? "'I used to drive you around when you was here before.'

"'How are you, Jarvis?' returned the other. other? Still in the livery business, I suppose? Yes, what brings you here, Professor? Holidays. I've just come out of the woods. And as you have some very interesting sea currents just here, I thought I'd have a look at them. Nobody really knows anything about coast currents, you know. Now my opportunity is spoiled, he indicated the crowd by a movement of his head. "'Spoiled! I guess not. You couldn't have come at a better time,' said the local man eagerly. "'Ah, but you see, I had planned to swim out to the eddy and make some personal observations.' "'You was going to swim into dead man's eddy?' asked the other, aghast.

"'Why, Professor, you must have turned foolish. They ain't a man on this coast would take a chance like that.' superstition retorted the other curtly on a still day such as this there would be no danger to an experienced swimmer the conditions are ideal except for this crowd what is it has the village gone picnicking not scarcely ain't you heard another one's come in through the eddy lies over yonder professor kent's eyebrows went up as he glanced as he glanced towards the indicated spot, then gathered in a frown. "'Not washed up there, surely,' he said. "'That's what,' answered Jarvis. "'When?' "'Somime early this morning.'

"'Shah!' said the other, turning to look at the curving bulwark of rocks, over which the soft slow swell was barely breaking. "'If it were the other end of the cove now, could understand it. Yes, agreed Jarvis. They mostly come in at the other end on this tide. Mostly, always, the professor's tone was positive.

Unless my charts are wrong, but this, well, it spoils at least one phase of my theory. Theory, exclaimed the livery man, his pale eyes alight. You got a theory? But I thought you didn't. know anything about the body till I told you just now. Oh, my ruined theory has reference to the currents, sighed the other. It has nothing to do with the dead men as such. Neither has this, was the prompt response, delivered with a jerk of the thumb toward the dark object.

No, what is it then, if not a dead man? A dead woman. Oh, all the same. it shouldn't have come in on this section of the beach at all. That ain't half the strangeness of it, the way it washed in. Lonesome Cove has had some queer folks drift home to it, but nothing as queer as this. Come and see for yourself.

Still frowning, Professor Kent suffered himself to be led to the spot. Two or three of the group, as it parted before him, greeted him. He found himself looking down on a corpse, clad in a dark silk dress and stretched on a wooden grating to which it was last with a small rope. Everything about the body indicated wealth. The dress was expensively made. The shoes were of the best type and the stockings were silk. The head was marred by a frightful bruise which had crushed in the right side and extended around behind the ear. Blood had clotted thickly in the short close-curled hair. The left side was unmarked. The eyes were closed, and the mouth was

slightly open, showing a glint of gold amid very white and regular teeth. An expression of deadly terror distorted the face. Professor Kent bent closely over it. That's strange, very strange, he murmured. It should be peaceful. But look at the hand, cried. Jarvis. Here, indeed, was the astounding feature of the tragedy, the aspect that brought Kent to his knees the more closely to observe. The body lay twisted slightly to the right, with the left arm extended. The left wrist was enclosed in a light-rusted handcuff, to which a chain was fastened. At the end of the chain was the companion cuff, shattered, evidently by a powerful blow, and half buried in the sand. As Kent leaned over the corpse, a fat, powerful, grizzled man

with a metal badge on his shirt front pushed forward. Them's cast-iron cuffs, he announced. That kind ain't been used these forty years. What kind of a ship'd be carrying him nowadays? asked someone in the crowd. And what kind of a seaman would be putting of him on a lady's wrists? growled a formidable voice which kent looking up perceived to have come from amid of growth of heavy white whiskers sprouting from a weather-forrowed face seafaring man aren't you inquired kent no more fifty year of it man and boy has put me in harbor that sailor smith explained jarvis who had assumed the duties of a self-appointed cicerone not much about the sea and its ways good or bad that he don't know true for you confirmed several voices then mr smith will you take a look at those lashings and tell me whether in your opinion they are the work of a sailor asked kent the old hands fumbled expertly the old face puckered judgment came forth presently the knots is well enough the lashing's a passable job what gets me is the rope well what's wrong with the rope

nothing in particular only i don't know what just that style of rope would be doing on shipboard unless it was to hang the old man's wash on suppose we lift this grating kent suggested at this the man with a badge interposed say who's running this thing anyhow i'm sheriff here and this body ain't to be moved till a doctor has viewed it of course said kent mildly but i thought you might be interested to see mr sheriff whether a ship's name was stamped somewhere on this grating well i don't want any amateur learning me my business declared the official importantly nevertheless he heaved the woodwork up on edge and held it so while eager eyes scanned the underpart murmurs of disappointment followed in these kent did not join he had inserted a finger in a crevice of the splintered wood and had extracted some small object which he held in the palm of his hand examining it thoughtfully what you got there demanded the sheriff Professor Kent stretched out his hand, disclosing a small, grayish object. I should take it to be the cocoon of Ephesia Cuchniela, he announced. And what does he do for a liven? inquired the official, waxing humorous.

Destroyes crops. It's a species of grain moth. Oh, grunted Schlager. You're a bug collector, huh? exactly answered the other transferring his trove to his pocket thereafter he seemed to lose interest in the center of mystery withdrawing to some distance he paced up and down the shore whistling lively tunes not always in perfect accord from which a deductive mind might have inferred that his soul was not in the music nearer and nearer to high water mark his pacing took him presently though all the time continuing his whistling he was scanning the tangled debris that the highest tide of the ear had heaped up almost against the cliff's foot his whistling became slow lugubrious minor it sagged it died away when it rose again it was in march time where to the virtuoso stepped brist toward the crowd. By this time the group had received several additions, but had suffered the loss of one of its component parts, the sheriff. Conjecture was buzzing from mouth to mouth

as to the official's sudden defection. "'Whatever it was he got from the pocket,' Kent heard one of the men say. It started him quick. "'Look to me like an envelope,' hazarded someone. no contradicted sailor smith paper would have been all pulped up by the water marked handkerchief maybe suggested another like as not said jarvis you bet that len schlager figured it out there was something in it for him anyways i could see the money gleam in his eye that's right too confirmed the old sailor he looked just like that when he brought in that half-wit peddler thinking he was the thousand-dollar reward thief last year trust len schlager to look out for number one first and be sheriff afterward observed someone else amidst this interchange of opinion none of which was lost upon him professor kent advanced and bent over the manacled corpse

have to ask you to stand back professor said jarvis lenz appointed me special deputy till he comes back and he says nobody is to lay finger on hydener hair of the corpse not even the dock if he comes quite right assented the other sheriff schlager exhibits commendable zeal and discretion wonder if he knowed the corpse suggested somebody in the crowd tell you who did if he didn't said another man who then elder irey dennet didn't none of you hear about his meeting up with a strange woman yesterday evening shocks this couldn't be that woman said jarvis how'd she come to be washed ashore from a wreck between last night and this morning how'd she come to be washed ashore from a wreck anyway counten said Sailor Smith. They ain't been no storm for a week, and this body ain't been dead twenty-four hour. It plumb beats me, admitted Jarvis.

Who is this, Dennett? asked Professor Kent. Irie? He's the town gab of Martindale Center. Does a little plumb and tinkering on the side. Just now he's up to Katie's town. Took the ten o'clock train last night. Then it was early when he met this woman? Little after sundown. He was rise in the hill beyond the nook,

that Sedgwick's place, the painter-feller, when she comes out of the shrubbery, pop. He quizzed her. Trust the elder for that. But he didn't get much out of her until he mentioned the nook. Then she allowed she'd guessed she'd go there, and he watched her go.

you say a man named sedgwick lives at the nook is that francis sedgwick the artist asked kent that's him said sailor smith paints right pretty pictures lives there all alone with a chinese cook well the lady went down the hill continued jarvis just as sedgwick came out to smoke a pipe on his stone wall irey thought he seemed surprised when she bespoke him. They passed a few remarks, and then they had some words, and the lady laughed loud and kind of scornful. He seemed to be pointing at a necklace of queer, fiery, pink stones that she wore, and trying to get something out of her. She turned away, and he started to follow, when all of a sudden she grabbed up a rock and let him have it, blip! Keeled him clean over! Then she ran away up the road toward Hawk Hill Cliffs. That's the way Iry Dennett tells it.

But I ain't never heard of a story losing anything in the tellin when it comes through Irie's lips. Well, this corpse ain't got no pink necklace, suggested somebody. Bodies sometimes gets robbed, said Sailor Smith. Chester Kent stooped over the rhythm face, again peering close. Then he straightened up and began pulling thoughtfully at the lobe of his ear. He pulled and pulled until, as if by that process, he had turned his face toward the cliff. His lips pursed. He began whistling softly and tunelessly. His gaze was abstracted.

"'Ain't seen nothing to make you feel bad, have you, Professor?' inquired temporary Deputy Sheriff, with some asserbity. "'A? What?' said Kent, absently. "'Seen anything? Nothing but what's there for anyone to see.' Following his fixed gaze, the others studied the face of the cliff, all but sailor Smith. He blinked near-sightedly at the corpse. "'Say,' said he presently, "'what's them queer little marks on the neck under the ear?' back came kent's eyes those he said smiling why those are one might suppose such indentations as would be made in flesh by forcing a jewel setting violently against it by a blow or strong impact

then you think it was the womp began the old seaman when several voices broke in there goes len now the sheriff's heavy figure appeared on the brow of the cliff moving toward the village who is it with him inquired kent gansett jim answered jarvis an indian gosh you got good eyes said jarvis he's more indian than anything else comes from down amygansett way and gets his name from it huh when did he arrive while you was traipsin around up yonder did he see the body yep just after the sheriff got whatever it was from the pocket gansett jim hoven's sight len went over to him quick and said something to him he come and give a look at the body but he didn't say nothing only grunted never does say nothing Only grunt, put in Sailor Smith. That's right, agreed Jarvis. Well, the sheriff tells me to watch the body.

Then he says, and I'll need somebody to help me. I'll take you, Jim. So he and the Indian goes away together. Professor Kent nodded. He looked seaward where the reefs were now bearing their teeth more plainly through the racing currents, and he sighed. that sigh meant in effect i want to play with my tides and eddies and here is work thrown at my very feet then he bade the group farewell and set off up the beach

seems kind of interested don't he remarked one of the natives who is he anyway inquired another oh he's a sort of a harmless scientific crank explained jarvis with patron kindliness comes from washington something to do with the government work kind o loony i think conjectured a little thin piping man musses and moves around like it is that so said sailor smith who still had his eyes fixed on the scarified neck well i ain't any too dumb sure that he's as big a fool as some folks i know that thinks likelyer of their selves. Others, however, supported the little man's diagnosis, and there was some feeling against sailor Smith who refused to make the vote unanimous. No, sir, he persisted sturdily. That dude way of talking of his has got something back of it, I'll bet. He's seen there was something queer about that rope, and he asked me about the knots right off. He knows enough not to spit to windward, and don't you forget it. Wouldn't surprise me

none if he was pointing pretty nigh as close up into the wind as Len Schlaeger. Possibly the one supporter of the absent would have wavered in his loyalty had he seen the trove that Professor Chester Kent had carried unostentatiously from the beach in his pocket, after picking it from the grading. It was the fuzzy cocoon of a small and quite unimportant insect. Perhaps the admiring Mr. Smith might even have come around to the majority opinion regarding Professor Kent's intellectual futility. Could he have observed the absorbed interest with which the Washington scientist, seated on a boulder, opened up the cocoon, pricked it until the impotent inmate wriggled in protest, and then, casting it aside to perish, threw himself on his back and whistled the whole of Chopin's funeral march, mostly off the key.

End of Chapter 1. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 2 of The Secret of Lonesome Cove by Samuel Hopkins Adams. This Livervox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Malene. After two. Professor Kent makes a call. Between the roadway and the broad front lawn of the nook, a four-foot, rough stone wall interposes. Looking up from his painting, Francis Sedgwick beheld,

in the glare of the afternoon sun, a spare figure rise alertly upon the wall, descend to the road, and rise again. He stepped to the open window and watched a curious progress. a scrubby bearded man clad in serviceable khaki was performing a stunt with the wall as a basis he was walking from east to west quite fast and every third pace stepping upon the wall stepping sedgwick duly noted not jumping the change of level being made without visible effort now sedgwick himself was distinctly long of leg and limber but but he realized that he would be wholly incapable of duplicating the stranger's gracefully accomplished feat without violent and clumsy exertion consequently he was interested leaning out of the window he called hello there good afternoon said the stranger in a quiet cultivated voice would you mind telling me what you are doing on my wall not in the least replied the bearded

man, rising buoyantly into full view, and subsiding again with the rhythm of a wave. Well, what are you doing? Taking a little exercise. By this time, having reached the end of the wall, he turned and came back, making the step with his right leg instead of his left. Sedgwick hurried downstairs and out into the roadway. The stranger continued his performance silently. At closer inspection, it appealed to the artist as even more mysterious, both in purport and execution, than it had looked at a distance. "'Do you do that often?' he asked presently.

The gymnast paused, poised like a mercury on the high coping. "'Yes,' said he. "'Otherwise I shouldn't be able to do it at all.' "'I should think not, indeed.' has it any particular utility that form of exercise certainly it is in pursuance of a theory of self-defense what in the world has wall-hopping to do with self-defense i shall expound said the stranger in professional tones taking a seat by the unusual method of letting himself down on one leg while holding the other at right angles to his body do you know know anything of Jiu-Jitsu? Very little. In common with most Americans. For that reason alone, the Japanese system is highly effective here, not so effective in Japan. You perceive there the basis of my theory. No, I don't perceive it at all. A system of defense is effective in proportion

to its unfamiliarity. That is all. then your system consists in stepping up on a wall and diving into obscurity on the farther side perhaps suggested sedgwick ironically defense i said not escape escape is perhaps preferable to defense but not always so practicable no the wall merely served as a temporary gymnasium while i was waiting waiting for what for you you have distinctly the advantage of me said sedgwick with a frown for he was in no mood to welcome strange visitors to return to my theory of self-defence said the other imperturbably my wall exercise serves to keep limber and active certain muscles that in the average man are half atrophied you are familiar with the ostrich with his proverbial methods of obfuscation replied sedgwick the other smiled that again is escape or attempted escape my reference was to other characteristics however i shall demonstrate he rose on one foot with an ease that made the artist stare descended selected from the roadway a stone of ordinary cobble size and handed it to sedgwick let that lie on the palm of your hand said he and hold it out waist high

as he spoke he was standing two feet from the other to his right sedgwick did as he was requested as his hand took position there was a twist of the bearded man's lithe body a sharp click and the stone flying in a rising curve swished through the leafage of a lilac fifty feet away how did you do that cried the artist the other showed a slight indentation of a lyeyeyeye on the inside of his right boot heel, and then swung his right foot slowly and steadily up behind his left knee and let it lapse into position again. At shoulder height, he explained, I could have done the same, but it would have broken your hand. I see, said the other, adding with distaste, but to kick an opponent? Why, even as a boy, I was taught, we were not speaking of child's play said the visitor coolly nor am i concerned with the rules of the prize ring as applied to my theory when one is in danger one uses knife or gun if at hand i prefer a less deadly and more effective weapon kicking sidewise either to the front or to the rear i can disarm a man break his leg or lay him senseless it is the special development of such muscles as the sartorius and planteris he ran his long fingers down from the outside of his thigh round to the inside of his ankle

that enables a human being with practice to kick like an ostrich since you found me exercising on your property i owe you this explanation i hope you won't prosecute for trespass mr long-leen leggy sedgwick leggy the artist had whirled at the name nobody's called me that for ten years just ten years ago that you graduated wasn't it yes then i knew you in college you must have been before my class the bearded one nodded senior to your freshman said he the younger man scrutinized him chester kent said he softly what on earth are you doing behind that bush kent caressed the maligned whiskers utility he explained patent impenetrable mosquito screen i've been off in the wilds and am or was going back presently not until you've stopped long enough to get reacquainted declared sedgwick just at present you're going to stay to dinner very good just now you happen to be in my immediate line of interest it is a fortunate circumstance for me to find you here possibly for you too most assuredly returned the other with heartiness come in on the porch and have a hammock and pipe old interests sprang to life and speech between them and from the old interests blossomed the old easy familiarity that is never wholly lost to those who have been close friends in college days

presently francis sedgwick was telling his friend the story of his feverish and thwarted ten years in the world within a year of his graduation his only surviving relative had died willing to beaversive and thwarted ten years in the world within a year of his graduation his only surviving relative had died willing to him a considerable fortune the income of which he used in furtherance of a hitherto suppressed ambition to study art paris his mecca was first a taskmistress then a tempteress finally a vampire before succumbing he had gone far in a few years toward the development of a curious technique of his own followed then two years of dissipation a year of travel to recuperate and the return to paris which was to be once more the task mistress but to his terror and self-loathing he found the power of application gone the muscles of his mind had become flabby he quoted to kent with bitterness the terrible final lines of rosetti's known in vain when work and will awake too late to gaze after their life sailed by and hold their breath ah who shall dare to search through what sad maze thenceforth their incommunicable ways follow the desultory feat of death when work and will awake too late repeated kent but is it too late in your case surely not since you're here and at your task but think of the waste man yet here i am as you say and still able to fight all by virtue of a woman's laugh the laugh of a woman without virtue

it was at the moulin de la galette perhaps you know the dance-hall on the slope of montmartre and she was one of the dancers the wreck of what had once been beauty and one must suppose innocence probably she thought me too much absintheote to hear her understand as i sat half asleep at my table at all events she answered full-voiced her companion's question who is the drunken foreigner by saying he was an artist the studios talked of him five years ago look at him now that is what life does to us mon ami i'm the woman of it-i i'm the woman of it it that's the man of it i staggered up made her a bow and a promise and left her laughing last month i redeemed the promise sent her the first thousand dollars i made by my own work and declared my debt discharged a heavy cloud of smoke issued from kent's mouth followed by this observation that formula about the inability to lift to lift oneself by one's own bootstraps fails to apply in the spiritual world right you can pull yourself out of the ditch that way but afterward comes the long hill slide life has seemed all tilted on edge at times and pretty slippery with little enough to cling to work suggested kent briefly wisdom lurks behind your screen work is there the answer. Good or bad, it's the only thing. Which kind is yours? Presently, you shall sit in

judgment. Meantime, suppose you account for yourself." Chester Kent stretched himself luxuriously. A distinguished Secretary of State has remarked that all the news worth telling on any subject can be transmitted by wire for twenty-five cents. The short and simple analyst, of the poor, in my case, can be recorded within that limit. Postgraduate science. Agricultural Department job. Lectures. Invention. Judiciary Department expert. Signed, Chester Kent. Ten words. Count them. Ten.

Interesting, but unsatisfying, retorted his friend. Can't you expand a bit? I suppose you haven't any. dark secret in your life? No secret, dark or light, sighed the other. The newspapers won't let me have. Eh? Won't let you? Am I to infer that you've become a famous person?

Pardon the ignorance of expatriation. Have you discovered a new disease, or formulated a new theory of life, or become a golf champion, or a senator, or a freak aviator? or invented perpetual motion? Do you possess titles, honors, and ribbon decorations? Odd I to bat my brow against the floor in addressing you? What are you, anyway? What I told you?

An expert in the service of the Department of Justice. On the scientific side? Why, yes, generally speaking. I like to flatter myself that my pursuit is scientific. Pursuit? What do you pursue? Men and motives. Sedgwick's intelligent eyes widened. Wait, he said.

Something occurs to me, an article in a French journal about a wonderful new American expert in criminology who knows all there is to know and takes only the most abstruse cases. I recall now that the article called him le professor chate or cannot that would be about as near as they would come to your name it's a good deal nearer than that infernal french journalist whom wily brought to my table at the idlers club got to the facts stated kent then you are the professor kent but look here the frenchman made you out a most superior species of highfalutin detective working along lines peculiarly your own. Rot,

interjected Kent. The only lines a detective can work along successfully are the lines laid down for him by the man he is after. Sounds more reasonable than romantic, admitted the artist. Come now, Kent, open up and tell me something about yourself. Only last month a magazine put that request in writing and accompanied it with an offer of twenty five hundred dollars which i didn't accept however as i may wish to ask you a number of leading questions later i'll answer yours now you remember i got into trouble my senior year with the college authorities by proving the typhoid epidemic direct against a forgotten defect in the sewer system it nearly cost me my diploma but it helped me too later

for a scientist in the Department of Agriculture at Washington learned of it and sent for me after graduation. He talked to me about the work that a man with the true investigation instinct, which he thought I had, could do by employing his abilities along strictly scientific lines, and he mapped out for me a three years postgraduate course, which I had just about enough money to take. while i specialized in botany entomology and bacteriology i picked up a working knowledge of other branches chemistry toxicology geology mineralogy physiology and most of the natural sciences having been blessed with an eager and catholic curiosity about the world we live in once in the department i found myself with a sort of roving commission i worked for a sort of roving commission i worked under such men as wily howard and merriam and learned from them something of the infinite and scrupulous patience that truly original scientific achievement demands at first my duties were largely those of minor research then by accident largely i chanced upon the plot to bull the cotton market by introducing the bull weevil into the uninfested cotton area and checked that

soon afterward i was put in the deodorized meat enterprise and succeeded in discovering the scheme whereby it was hoped to sell spoiled meat for good you might have heard of those cases but you would hardly have learned of the success in which i really take a pride the cultivation of a running wild grape to destroy ruse toxicodendron the common poison ivy what spare time i had i devoted to experimenting along mechanical lines and patented an invention that has been profitable some time ago the department of justice borrowed me on a few cases with a scientific bearing and more recently offered me incidental work with them on such favorable terms that i resigned my other position the terms include liberal vacations one of which i am now taking and here i am is that sufficient hardly all this suggests the arts of peace what about your forty horse power kick you don't practice that for drawing-room exhibitions i take it sometimes confessed the scientist i have found myself at close quarters with persons of dubious character the fact is that an ingenious plot to get rid of a very old friend dr lucius carter the botanist drew me into the criminal line and since then that phase of investigation has seemed fairly to obtrude itself on me officially and unofficially even up here where i hope to enjoy a month's rest do you know he said breaking off that you have a most interesting inset of ocean currents hereabouts

of course lonesome cove but kindly finish that even up here i recollect your saying that you are waiting for me haven't traced any scientific crime to my daughter have you?" "'Let me forget my work for a little while,' pleaded his visitor. "'And look at yours.' Sedgwick rose. "'Come upstairs,' he said, and led the way to the big, bare, bright studio. From the threshold, Chester Kent delivered an opinion after one approving survey. "'You really work, I see.'

"'I really do.' where do you see it though all over the place no draperies or fripperies or fopperies of art here the bearer of the room the more work done in it he walked over to a curious contrivance resembling a small hand-press examined it surveyed the empty easel against which were leaning face in a number of pictures all of a size and turned half a dozen of them over ranging them and stepping back for examination standing before them he whistled a long passage from la bohem and had started to re-whistle it in another key when the artist broke in with some impatience well good work pronounced kent quietly and in some subtle way the commonplace words conveyed to their hearer the fact that the man who spoke them knew it's the best there is in me at least said sedgwick kent went slowly around the walls keenly examining silently appraising there were landscapes genre bits studies of the ocean in its various moods flashes of pagan imaginings nature studies a wonderful picture of wild geese settling from a flight a no less striking sketch of a mink startled as he crept a drink among the sedges a group of country children at hopscotch on the sands all the varied subjects handled with a deafness of truth and drawing and colored with a clear softness quite individual

have you found or founded a new system of coloring asked kent as he moved among the little masterpieces no don't tell me he touched one of the surfaces delicately it's not paint and it's not pastel oh i see they're all of one size of course he glanced at the heavy mechanism near the easel their color prints sedgwick nodded monotypes said he i paint on copper make one impress and then foot a sponge across the copper makes each one an original you certainly obtain your effects The printing seems to refine the color. For instance, moonlight on white water, a thing I've never been able to approach, either in straight oils or water. See here! From behind a cloth he drew a square, and set it on the easel.

Kent whistled again, casual fragments of light and heavy opera, intermingled with considerative twitches of his ear. "'It's the first one I've given a name to,' said Sedgwick. i call it the rough rider a full moon brilliant amid blown cloud rack lightened up the vast procession of billows charging in upon a near coast in the foreground a corpse the face bent far up and back from the spar to which it was lashed rode with wild abandon headlong at the onlooker on the crest of a roaring surge the rest was infinite clarity of distance and desolation the rough rider murmured kent then with a change of tone for sale i don't know hesitated the artist fact is i like that about well enough to keep i'll give you five hundred dollars for it five hundred man alive a hundred is the most i've ever got for any of my prints the offer stands But see here, Kent, can you afford it?

Government salaries don't make men rich, do they? Oh, I'm rich enough, said the other impatiently. I told you I'd made inventions, and I can certainly afford to buy it better than you can afford to keep it here. What's that? asked the painter, surprised. Kent repeated his final sentence, with slow emphasis. Do you understand what I mean? he asked, looking flatly into Sedgwick's eyes.

No, not in the least. Another suggestion of mystery. Do you always deal in this sort of thing? Very seldom. However, if you don't understand, so much the better. When did you finish this picture? Yesterday. Hmm, has anyone else seen it?

That old fraud of a plumber, Elder Dennett, saw me working on it yesterday when he was doing some repairing here, and remarked that it gave him the creeps. Dennett? Well, then, that's all up, said Kent, as if speaking to himself. There's a streak of superstition in all these New Englanders. He'd be sure to interpret it as a confession before the fact. However, Elder Dennett left this morning for a trip to Katie's town. That's so much to the good.

he may have left for a trip to hades town for all i care stated sedgwick with conviction what's it all about anyway i'll tell you as soon as i've mulled over a little just let me cool my mind down with some more of your pictures he turned to the wall border again and faced another picture out what's this you seem to be something of a dab and black and white too oh that's an imaginary face said sedgwick carelessly imaginary face studied from several angles commented kent it's a very lovely face and the most wistful i've ever seen a fairy prisoned on earth by cock-crow might wear some such expression of startled wondering purity i fancy poetry as well as mystery kent you grow and expand on acquaintance there is poetry in your study of that imaginary fay imaginary uh-huh continued kent dryly as he stooped to the floor i suppose this is an imaginary hairpin too my chinaman began sedgwick quickly when the other caught him up don't be uneasy i'm not going to commit the beatise of asking who she is if you did i'd give you my word of honor i couldn't tell you i only wish i knew there was silence between them for a moment then the painter broke out with the air of one who takes a resolution see here kent you're a sort of detective aren't you i've been called so and you like my picture of the rough rider five hundred dollars worth you can't have that

and any other picture in my studio, except this one, he indicated the canvas with the faces, if you find out for me who she is. That might be done, we shall see. But frankly, Sedgwick, there's a matter of more importance. Importance! Good heavens, man! There's nothing so important in this world. Oh, is it as bad as that? A heavy knock sounded from below, followed by the Chinaman's voice, intermingled with boyish accents, demanding Sedgwick in the name of the Western Union Telegraph Company.

Send him up, ordered Sedgwick, and the boy arrived, but not before Kent had quietly removed the Rough Rider from its place of exhibit. Special from the village, announced Young Mercury. Sign here. After the signature had been duly set down, and the signer had read his message with knit brows, the urchin lingered big with news. Say, heard about the body on the beach? Kent turned quickly to see Sedgwick's face.

It was interested, but unmoved as he replied. No, where was it found? Lonesome Cove! Woman! Dressed sway. well, washed up on a grating last night or this morning. It's curious how they all come in here, isn't it? said the artist to Kent. This is the third this summer.

And it's a corcorino, said the boy. Sheriff's on the case. Body was all chained up, they say. I'm sure they need you at the office to help circulate the news, my son, said Kent, and I'll bet you this quarter, payable in advance, that you can't get back in half an hour on your wheel. With a grin the boy took the coin. I got you, he said, and was off. And now, Sedgwick, said Kent decisively, if I'm to help you, suppose you tell me all that you know about the woman who called on you last evening. Last evening?

Ah, that wasn't the girl of the picture. It's an interminable six days since I've seen her. No, I know it wasn't she, having seen your picture, and since then your visitor of last night. The question is, who was it? Wait, how did you know that a woman came here last night? From common gossip? And where have you seen her since? On the beach, at her.

Lonesome Cove! Lonesome Cove, repeated Sedgwick mechanically. Then with a startled glance, Not the dead woman! Kent nodded, watching him closely. For a space of four heartbeats, one very slow and three very quick, there was silence between them.

Kent broke it. Do you see now the wisdom of frankness? you mean that i shall be accused of having a hand in her death strongly suspected at least on what basis you are the last person known to have seen her alive surely that isn't enough not of itself there's a bruise back of your right ear involuntarily sedgwick's hand went to the spot who gave it to you pursued Kent. You know it all without my telling you, cried Sedgwick. But I never saw the woman before in my life, Kent. I give you my word of honor.

She came and went, but who she is or why she came or where she went, I have no more idea than you have. Perhaps not nearly so much. There you are wrong. I'm depending on you to tell me about her. not if my life hung on it and how could her being found drowned on the beach be connected with me i didn't say that she was found drowned on the beach you did no pardon me it was the messenger boy but you said that her body was found in lonesome cove that is quite a different matter she wasn't drowned i should be very much surprised if the autopsy showed any water in the lungs but the boy said that the body was lashed to a grating and that there were chains on it is that true it was lashed to a grating and manacled

manacled what a ghastly mystery sedgwick dropped his chin in meditation if she wasn't drowned then she was murdered and thrown overboard from a boat is that it chester kent smiled inscrutably suppose you let me do the questioning a while you can give no clue whatsoever to the identity of your yesterday's visitor there was the slightest possible hesitation before the artist replied none at all if i find it difficult to believe that what will the villagers think of it when elder dennet returns from katie's town and tells his story as he is sure to do does dennet know the woman no but it isn't his fault that he doesn't he did his best in the interviewing line when he met her on her way to your place she wasn't on her way to my place objected sedgwick dannott got the notion that she was accordingly with the true home-bred delicacy of our fine old new england stock he hid behind a bush and watched did he overhear our conversation he was too far away he saw the attack on you now just fit together these significant bits of fact the body of a woman dead by violence is found on the beach not far from here the last person as far as is known to have seen her alive is yourself she called on you and there was a colloquy apparently vehement between you culminating in the assault upon you she hurried away one might well guess that later you followed her to her death

i did follow her said sedgwick in a low tone for what purpose to find out who she was which you didn't succeed in doing she was too quick for me the blow of the rock had made me giddy and she got away among the thickets that's a pity one more point of suspicion dennet you say saw your picture the rough rider he will tell every one about it you may be sure what of it the strange coincidence of the subject and the apparent manner of the unknown's death people will hardly suspect that i killed her and set her adrift for a model i suppose said the artist bitterly particularly as dennet can tell them that the picture was finished before her death not that but there will be plenty of witch-hangers among the yankee populace ready to believe that a fiend inspired both picture and murder in your mind why the very fact of your being an artist would be prima facie evidence of a compact with the devil to some people and you must admit a certain diabolical ghastliness in that painting evidently some devil of ill fate is mixing up in my affairs what's your advice in the matter tell me the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth suggested chester kent easily done the question is whether you'll believe it if i hadn't felt pretty sure of your innocence i shouldn't have opened the case to you as i've done i'll believe the truth if you tell it and tell it all very well

i was sitting on my wall when the woman came down the road i noticed her first when she stopped to look back and her absurd elegance of dress expensive and ill-fitting attracted my closer attention she was carrying a bundle wrapped to look back and her absurd elegance of dress expensive and ill-fitting attracted my closer attention she was carrying a bundle wrapped in strong paper. It seemed to be heavy, for she shifted it from hand to hand. When she came near, I spoke to her. You spoke to her first? Well, we spoke simultaneously. Why should you speak to her if she was a stranger to you? See here, Kent. You'll have to let me tell this in my own way, if I'm to tell it at all. So long as you do tell it, what did you? What did you? she say to you? She asked me the time. Casually? Not as if she were making it a pretext to open a conversation, if that's what you mean. It is. Certainly it wasn't that. She seemed anxious to know. In fact, I think she used the word exact, the exact time, she said. Presumably she was on her

way to an appointment then. Very likely. When I told her she seemed relieved. I might even say relaxed. As if from the strain of nervous haste, you know. Good. And then? She thanked me and asked me if I were Mr. Sedgwick. I answered that I was, and suggested that she make good by completing the introduction. She wasn't a woman of your own class, then? sedgwick looked puzzled well no i thought not then or i shouldn't have been so free and easy with her for one thing she was painted badly and the perspiration running down her forehead had made her a sight yet i don't know her voice was that of a cultivated person her manner was awkward and her dress weird for that time of day and for all that-that she carried herself like a person accustomed to some degree of consideration that i felt quite plainly i felt too something uncanny about her her eyes alone would have produced that impression they were peculiarly restless and brilliant insane questioned kent not wholly sane certainly but it might have been drugs that suggested itself to me

a possibility proceed she asked what point of the headland gave the best view anywhere from the first rise on is good i said it depends on what you wish to see my ship coming in said she it will be a far view then i told her this is a coast of guardian reefs what difference she said and then gave me another surprise for she quix quoted and though thy soul sail leagues and leagues beyond still leagues beyond those leagues there is more sea that's interesting remarked kent casual female wearfarers aren't given to quoting the house of life nor casual ships to visiting this part of the coast however there was no ship i looked for myself when i was trying to find the woman later. What are you smiling at? Nothing. I'm sorry I interrupted. She walked away from me a few paces, but turned and came back at once. I follow my star, she said, pointing to a planet that shone low over the sea. Therein lies the only true happiness, to dare and to follow. It's a practice which has got many people into trouble and some into jail, I remarked.

Do not be flippant, she replied in her deep tones. Perhaps under that star you move on dim paths to an unknown glory. See here, I broke out, you're making me uncomfortable. If you've got something to tell, please tell it, kindly omitting the melodrama. Remember this meeting, she said in a tone of solemnly. command, for it may mark an epic in your life. Some day in the future, I may send for you, and recall today to your mind by what I have just said.

In that day you will know the hidden things that are clear only to the chosen minds. Perhaps you will be the last person but one to see me as I now am. Kent pulled nervously at the lobe of his ear. Is it possible? that she foresaw her death he murmured it would look so in the light of what has happened wouldn't it yet there was an uncanny air of joyousness about her too i don't like it announced kent i do not like it by which he meant that he did not understand it what chester kent does not understand chester kent resents love affair perhaps perhaps suggested the artist a woman in love will take any risk of death however he added rubbing his bruised head reminiscently she had a very practical bent for a romantic person after her mysterious prophecy she started on i called to her to come back or i would follow and make her explain herself as to what everything her being there her act

her her apparel the jewelry you know and all that you've said nothing about jewelry haven't i well when she turned just a moment was it the jewelry that you were going to speak of when you first accosted her yes it was some of it was very valuable i judge wasn't it found on the body no not robbery then probably well she came back at a stride her eyes were alive with anger there came a torrent of words from her strong words too nothing of the well-bred woman left there i insisted on knowing who she was and she burst out on me with laughter that was somehow more insulting than her speech but when i told her that i'd find out of her that i'd find out of her about her if I had to follow her into the sea, she stopped laughing fast enough. Before I could guard myself, she had caught up a rock from the road and let me have it. I went over like a ten-pin. When I got up, she was well along toward the cliffs, and I never did find her trail

in that maze of copses and thickets. Show me your relative positions when she attacked you. The artist placed Kent and moved off five paces. About like that, he said. Did she throw overhand or underhand? It was so quick I hardly know, but I should say a short overhand snap. It came hard enough. I do not like it at all, said Kent again.

He wandered disconsolately and with half-closed eyes about the room until he blundered into collision with a cot lounge in the corner spread with cushions these he heaped up threw his coat over them stretched himself out with his feet propped high in the mound just erected and closed his eyes sleepy inquired sedgwick busy retorted his guest like some more pillows no I'd like ten minutes of silence." The speaker opened one eye. At the end of that time, perhaps you'll think better of it.

Of what? Of concealing an essentially important part of your experience, which has to do, I think, with the jewelry. At the end of the ten minutes, when Kent opened both eyes, his friend forestalled him with another query. say that no jewels were found on the body? Was there any other mark of identification? If there was, the sheriff got away with it before I saw it.

How can you be sure, then, that the dead woman was my visitor? Dennett mentioned a necklace. On the crushed flesh of the dead woman's neck, there is the plain impress of a jewel setting. Now, come, Sedgwick, if I'm to help you. you in this, you must help me. Had you ever seen that necklace before? Yes, was the reply, given with obvious reluctance. Where? On the neck of the girl of my picture. Kent's fingers went to his ear, pulling at the lobe until that unoffending pendant stretched like rubber. You're sure? he asked.

There couldn't be any mistake. The stones were matched rose topazes. You mightn't find another like it in the whole country. Kent whistled, soft and long. I am afraid, my boy, he said at length. I'm very much afraid that you'll have to tell me the whole story of the romance of the pictured face, and this time without reservation. That's what I've been guarding against. retorted the other.

It isn't a thing that I can tell, man to man. Don't you understand? Or, he added savagely, Do you misunderstand? No, I don't misunderstand, answered Kent very gently. I know there are things that can't be spoken, not because they're shameful,

but because they're sacred. Yet I've got to know about her. Here, I have to have. it. When I'm gone, sit down and write it out for me, simply and fully, and send it to my hotel as soon as it is done. You can do that, can't you?' "'Yes, I can do that,' decided Sedgwick, after some consideration. "'Good, then give me some dinner. And let's forget this grisly thing for a time, and talk of the old days. Whatever became of heartness of our class, do you know?'

between them that evening was no further mention of the strange body in lonesome cove end of chapter two recording by roger maline chapter three of the secret of lonesome cove by samuel hopkins adams this librovoc's recording is in the public domain recording by roger maline chapter three my lady of mystery being a single autobiographical chapter from the life of francis sedgwick with editorial comment by professor chester kent dear kent here goes i met her first on june twenty second at three o'clock in the afternoon some wonderful cloud effects after a hard rain had brought me out into the open i had pitched my easel in the hollow on the martindale road so as to get that clump of pine against the sky there i sat working away with a will when i heard the drumming of hoofs and a horse with a girl in the saddle came whizzing round the turn almost upon me just there the rain had made a puddle of thick sticky mud the mud pie variety as the horse went by at full gallop a fine fat mud pie rose soared through the air and landed in the middle of my painting i fairly yelped to get it all off was hopeless however i went at it and was cursing over the job when i heard the hoofs coming back and the rider pulled up close to it-and i went up close to it-and was cursing over the job when i heard the hoofs coming back and the rider pulled up close to me.

I heard you cry out, said a voice, very full and low. Did I hurt you? I hope not. No, I said without looking up. Small thanks to you that you didn't. My tone silenced her for a moment. Somehow, though, I got the feeling that she was amused more than abashed at my resentment, and her voice was suspiciously meek when she presently spoke again.

You're an artist, aren't you? No, I said, busily scraping away at my copper plate. I'm an archaeologist, engaged in exuming an ancient ruin from a square mile of mud. She laughed, but in a moment became grave again. I'm so sorry, she said. I know I shouldn't come plunging around turns in that reckless way. May I—I should like to be. I should like to buy your picture?

You may not, I replied. That isn't quite fair, is it? she asked. If I have done damage, I should be allowed to repair it. Repair, said I. How do you propose to do it? I suppose that you think a picture that can be bought for a hundred-dollar bill can be painted with a hundred-dollar bill? No, I'm not altogether a bill. a Philistine, she said, and I looked up at her for the first time. Her face, elision and comment by Kent, I know her face from the sketches.

Why could he not have described the horse? However, there's one point clear. She is a woman of means. She said, I don't wonder your cross, and I'm truly sorry. Is it quite ruined? At that I recovered some decency of man. manner. Forgive a hermit, I said, who doesn't see enough people to keep him civilized. The dobb doesn't matter. She leaned over from the saddle to examine the picture.

Oh, but it isn't a dob, she protested. I know a little about pictures. It's very interesting and curious. But why do you paint it on copper? I explained. Oh, she said, I should like to see your print. Nothing easier, said I. My shack is just over the hill. And there is a Mrs. Her eyes suggested that I fill in the blank. Sedgwick, I finished.

No, there is no one but my aged and highly respectable Chinaman to play propriety. But in the case of a studio, Le convenance are not so rigid, but that one may look at pictures unshaperoned. I'm afraid it wouldn't do, she answered, smiling. No, I'll have to wait until... A shadow passed over her face. I'm afraid I'll have to give it up. Chance settled that point then and there.

As she finished, she was in my arms. The girth had loosened, and the saddle had turned with her. I had barely time to twist her foot from the stirrup when the brute of a horse bolted. As it was, her ankle got a bit of a wrench. She turned quite white and cried out a little. In a moment she was herself again. King Cole has been acting badly all day, she said. I shall have a time catching him.

She limped forward a few steps. Here, that won't do, said I. Let me. You couldn't get near him, though, perhaps if you had some salt. I can get some at my place, said I, gathering up my things. Your horse is headed that way. You'd better come along and rest there while Ching Long and I round up your mount. Comment by C.K.

Here follows more talk. showing how young people imperceptibly and unconsciously cement an acquaintance. But not one word upon the vital point of how far the horse seemed to have come, whether he was ridden out or fresh, etc. At the bungalow I called Ching, and we set out with a supply of salt. King Cole, comment by C.K., probably a dead black horse, was coy for a time, before he succumbed to temptation.

On my return, I found my visitor in the studio. She had said that she knew a little about pictures. She knew more than a little, a good deal, in fact, and talked most intelligently about them. I don't say this simply because she tried, before she went, to buy some of mine. When I declined to sell, she seemed put out. But surely these principles,

of yours aren't the work of an amateur, she said. You sell? Oh yes, I sell, when I can, but I don't sell without a good bit of bargaining, particularly when I suspect my purchaser of wishing to make amends by a purchase. It isn't that at all, she said earnestly. I want the pictures for themselves. Call this a preliminary then, and come back when you have more time. She shook her head, and there was a shadow over the brightness of her face. I'm afraid not, she said, but I have enjoyed talking again with someone who knows and loves the best in art. After all, she added with a note of determination, almost of defiance. There is no reason why I shouldn't sometime.

Then I may look for you again, I asked. She nodded as she moved out across the porch. If you'll promise to sell me any print I may choose. Goodbye, and thank you so much, Mr. Sedgwick. She held out her hand. It was a hand for a sculptor to model, as beautiful and full of character as her face. Comment by C.K.

Bosch. Afterward, I remembered that never again in our friendship did I see. see it ungloved. Comment by C.K. Bosch retracted. Some observation in that. Orevoir, then, I said. But you have the advantage of me, you see.

I don't know what to call you at all. She hesitated. Then, with a little soft quiver of her eyelids, which I afterward learned to identify as an evidence of amusement, said, "'Daw is a nice name, don't you think?' "'C.' "'C.'

"'Fault name, of course, but highly probable "'first name is Marjorie. "'By the way, what time is it?' "'Quarter to five, Miss Daw.' "'She smiled at the name. "'King Cole will have to do his best "'if I am to be back for dinner. "'Good-bye!'

"'Comment by C.K. good the place where she is staying is a good way off assuming a seven-thirty dinner hour say twelve to fifteen miles that was the first of many visits of days that grew in radiance for me it isn't necessary for me to tell you kent how in our talks i came to divine in her a spirit as wistful and pure as her face you do not want a love-story from me yet that is what it was for me almost from the first. Not openly, though. There was that about her which held me at arm's length, the mystery of her, her quickly given trust in me, a certain strained look that came into her face, like the startled attention of a wild thing poised for flight, whenever I touched upon the personal note. Not that I ever questioned her. That was the understanding between us, I should leave to her her incognita without effort to penetrate it.

While I talked, I sketched her and studied her. Young as she seemed she had been much about the world, knew her Europe, had met and talked with men of many pursuits, and had taken from all sources tribute for her mind and color for her imagination. She had read widely, too, and had an individual habit of thought. combined with all her cosmopolitanism was a quaint and profound purity of standards. I remember her saying once, it was one of her rare flashes of self-revelation, I am an anomaly and an anachronism, a Puritan in modern society.

After her first visit, she did not ride on her horse, but came across lots and through the side hedge, swinging down the hillside yonder with her light-dipping stride that always recalled to me the swoop of a swallow, her gloved hands usually holding a slender stick. All those sketches that you saw were but studies for a more serious attempt to catch and fix her personality. Comment by C.K. Couldn't he have given me, in two words, her height and approximate weight? I did it in pastel, and if I missed something of her tender and changeful coloring, I at least caught the ineffable wistfulness of her expression,

the look of one hoping against hope for an unconfessed happiness. Probably I had put more of myself into it than I had meant. A man is likely to, when he paints with his heart as well as his brain and hand. When it was done, I made a little frame for it. it and lettered on the frame this line and her eyes dreamed against a distant goal it was the next day that she read the line i saw the color die from her face and flood back again why did you set that line there she breathed her eyes fixed on me with a strange expression comment by c k rosetti again the dead woman of the beach quoted the house of life also why not i asked it seems to express something in you which i have tried to embody in the picture don't you like it she repeated the line softly making pure music of it i love it she said at that i spoke as it is given to a man to speak to one woman in the world when he has found her she listened with a

eyes on the pictured face. But when I said to her, You who will have all my heart and whose name even I have not, is there no word for me? She rose, and threw out her hands in a gesture that sent a chill through me. Oh, no, no, she cried vehemently. Nothing except goodbye. Oh, why did you speak? I stood and watched her go. At the end of the garden walk, she stooped and picked a rose with her gloved fingers,

and as she disappeared in the thicket at the top of the hill, I thought she half turned to look. That was five interminable days ago. I have not seen her since. I feel it is her will that I shall never see her again. And I must! You understand, Kent, you must find her. I forgot to tell you that when I was sketching her,

I asked if she could bring something pink to wear, preferably coral. She came the next time with a string of the most beautiful rose topazes I have ever seen, set in a most curious old gold design. It was that necklace and none other that the woman with the bundle wore half concealed when she came here. Today, it is yesterday, really, since I am finishing this at 3 a.m., the messenger boy brought me a telegram. It was from my love.

It had been sent from Boston, and it read, Destroy the picture, for my sake. It tells too much of both of us. The message was unsigned. I have destroyed the picture. Help me. F. F. S. End of Chapter 3.

Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 4 of The Secret of Lonesome Cove by Samuel Hopkins Adams. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 4. An Inquiry. Am I running a stranger's rest here? Francis Sedgwick asked of himself when he emerged upon his porch the morning

after Kent's visit? The occasion of this query was a man stretched flat on the lawn, with his feet propped up comfortably against the stone wall. In this recumbent posture, he was achieving the somewhat delicate feat of smoking a long, thin, clay pipe. Except for this plebeian touch, he was of the most unimpeachable elegance. His white serge suit was freshly pressed, his lavender silk hose descending without a wrinkle under his buckskin shoes accorded with a lavender silk tie and lavender striped shirt a soft white hat covered his eyes against the sun glare to put a point to this foolishness a narrow silken ribbon also pure white depending from his lapel buttonhole suggested an eye-glass in his pocket sedgwick who had risen late having returned to his house at daybreak after delivering his manuscript at kent's hotel regarded this sartorial marvel with a doubt as to whether it might not be a figment of latent dreams making a detour across the grass he attained to a side view of the interloper's face it repaid the trouble it was a remarkable face both in contour and in coloring

from chin to cheek the skin was white with the tint of blue showing beneath but the central parts of the face were bronzed the jaw was long lean and bony the cheek bones were high the mouth was large fine-cut and firm the nose solid set like a rock at the sound of a footstep the man pushed his hat downward revealing a knobby forehead and half-closed eyes in which there was a touch of sombreness of brooding the artist remembered having seen that type of physiognomy on the venetian coins of the sixteenth century the likenesses in bronze of men who were of iron and gold scholars rulers and poets the eyes of the still face opened wide and fixed themselves on sedgwick and the expression of melancholy vanished good morning said the artist and the artist and the artist and then all but recoiled from the voice that replied, so harsh and raucous it was. You rise late, it said. I hear your opinion on it, retorted Sedgwick, a bit nettled. Am I to infer that you have been waiting for me?

You wouldn't go far wrong. And what can I do for you, before you leave? said Sedgwick, significantly. Take a little walk with me presently. said the man in another voice, brushing the hat clear of his face. "'Kent!' exclaimed the artist. "'Well, you appear surprised. What kind of artist are you, not to recognize a man simply because he shaves his beard and affects a false voice?' "'But you're so completely changed. And why this disguise?'

"'Discise?' returned the other, astonished in his turn. I'm not in disguise. Your clothes. They're, well, except for being offensive, I'd call them foppish. Not at all, protested the other, warmly. Just because I'm a scientific man, it is to be assumed that I ought to be a frump. I'm fond of good clothes. I can afford good clothes. I wear good clothes. It's a hobby of mine, but I deny that it is a weakness. of course not assented the other somewhat amused by the way though your socks and tie don't match they do absolutely replied the other with asperity

perhaps in fact but not in effect in matching smooth silk with ribbed silk you should get the latter one shade lighter is that so said kent with interest You've told me something I never knew. I'll remember that. Now, I'll trouble you to tell me some more things. While taking that walk you spoke of? That comes later. I've read your story. Already? Already? Do you know it's ten o'clock? However, it's a good story. Thank you. As a story. As information. it leaves out most of the important points. Thank you again.

You're welcome. Color, size, and trappings of the horse? I didn't notice particularly. Black, I think. Yes, certainly black. Rather a large horse. That's all I can tell you. Huh.

Color, size, and trappings of the rider? Reddish-brown. hair with a gloss like a butterfly's wing, said the artist with enthusiasm. Deep hazel eyes. Clear sun-brown skin. Tall, I should say quite tall, but so, so feminine that you wouldn't realize her tallness. She was dressed in a light brown riding costume with a toque hat, very simple, tan gauntlets and tan boots. That is the first time I saw her. The next time, hold on. A dressmaker's catalog is no good to me. I couldn't remember it all. Was she in writing clothes on any of her later visits? No. Any scars or marks? Certainly not.

That's a pity, although you seem to think otherwise. Age? Well, twenty perhaps. add five say twenty-five what for demanded sedgwick indignantly i'm allowing for the discount of romance did you notice her boots not particularly except that she was always spick and span from head to foot huh was it pretty warm the last week she called on you piping did she show it never a bit always looked fresh as a flower then although she came far she didn't walk far to get here there's a road back of the hill yonder and a little copse in an open field where a motor-car has stood i should say that she had driven herself there and come across the hill to you could we track the car asked sedgwick eagerly No farther than the main road. What is the latest she ever left here when she arrived afoot? Once she stayed till half-past six.

I begged her to stay and dine, but she drew into herself at the mere suggestion. Half-past six. Allowing for a half-past seven dinner and time to dress for it, she would have perhaps twelve to fifteen miles to go in the car. car. That figures out with the saddle-ride, too. Now we have, as your visitor, a woman of rather inadequate description eeked out by some excellent sketches. Young, passably good-looking. Don't lose your temper, Sedgwick. Passably good-looking,

at least. With command of some wealth, athletic, a traveller, well-informed. The name she gave is obviously not her own, not even I judge her maiden name." Sedgwick turned very white. Do you mean that she is a married woman? he demanded. How could you have failed to see it? returned the other, gently. But what is there to prove it? Proof? None. Indication? Plenty. Her visits in the first place. A young girl of breeding and social experience would hardly have come to your studio. A married woman might, who respected herself

with full confidence, and knew, with the same confidence, that you would respect her. And, my dear boy, added Kent, with his quiet, winning smile, you are a man to inspire confidence. Otherwise, I myself might have suspected you of having a hand in the death of the woman on the beach. Never mind the woman on the beach. This other matter is more than life or death. Is that flimsy supposition all you have to go on? No.

Her travel. Her wide acquaintance with men and events. Her obvious poise. All might be found in a very exceptional girl such as she is. Why shouldn't she tell me if she were married? Oh, don't expect me to dissection. sex feminine psychology. There I'm quite beyond my depth. But you'll note she doesn't seem to have told you any slightest thing about herself. She's let concealment, like a worm in the bud,

prey on your damask cheek. Confound your misquotations. It's true, though, but there might be many reasons. Doubtless, only my imagination doesn't seem to run to them. and reverting to tangible fact, as clenching evidence, there are her gloves, which she always wore. What about her gloves? You never saw her left hand, did you? Oh, I see. You mean the wedding ring. Well, I suppose, continued Sedgwick, with a tinge of contempt in his voice.

She could have taken off her ring as easily as her gloves. there was no answering contempt in chester kent's voice as he replied but a ring constantly worn and then removed leaves an unmistakable mark perhaps she gave you greater credit for powers of observation than you deserve i'm afraid frank that she is a married woman and i'm sure from reading between your lines that she is a good woman what the connection between her and the corpse on the beach may be is the place is the problem, my immediate business is to discover who the dead woman is. And mine, said Sedgwick, hoarsely, to discover the living. We'll at least start together, replied Kent. Come! Capacity for silence, that gift of the restful gods, was possessed by both men.

Intent, each upon his own thoughts, they strode up the hill-south. side and descended into a byway where stood a light runabout empty throwing on the switch kent motioned his companion to get in twenty minutes of curving and dodging along the rocky roads brought them to the turnpike inside of the town of annalaka not until then did kent offer a word the inquest is set for eleven o'clock he said all right said sedgwick with equal taciturnity they turned a corner and ran into the fringe of a crowd hovering about the town hall halting his machine in a bit of shade kent surveyed the gathering at one point it thickened about a man who was talking eagerly the vocal center of a small circle of silence elder dennet said kent back from katie's town You'll have to face the music now. I'm ready. You're ready for attack. Are you ready for surprises?

No one is ever ready for surprise, or it wouldn't be surprise, would it? True enough. One word of warning. Don't lose your head or your temper if the suspicion raised against you by Dennett is strengthened by me. By you? Unfortunately, my concern is to get to the bottom of this matter. There is something the sheriff knows that I don't know. Probably it is the identity of the body. To force him into the open, it may be necessary for me to augment the case against you. Odd I to be ready for arrest?

Hardly probable at present. No, go on the stand when you're called and tell the, the truth and nothing but the truth. But not the whole truth? Nothing of the necklace. You won't be questioned about that. By the way, you have never kept among your artistic properties anything in the way of handcuffs, have you? No.

I didn't suppose you had. Those manacles are a sticker. I don't. I absolutely do not like those manacles. and on one wrist only. Perhaps that is the very fact, though. Well, we shall know more when we're older, two hours older, say.

Whether we shall know all that Mr. Sheriff Len Slager knows is another question. I don't like Mr. Slager either, for that matter. Dennett has seen me, said Sedgwick in a low voice. Indeed, the narrator's voice, had abruptly ceased, and he stood with the dropped jaw of stupefaction. One after another of his auditors turned and stared at the two men in the motor car. Stay where you are, said Kent, and stepped out to mingle with the crowd.

No one recognized, at first, the immaculate flannel-clad, elegant, as the bearded scientist whose strange actions had amused the crowd on the beach. A heavy, solemn man addressed him. Friend of his, he asked, nodding toward the artist. Yes. He'll need him. Going to give evidence? To hear it, rather, replied Kent pleasantly.

Where's the body? Inside, just brought it over from Dr. Breeds. He's the medical officer, and he and the sheriff are running the show. your friend want a lawyer maybe the thought struck kent that while a lawyer might be premature a friend in the town might be very useful yes he said from to-morrow on meaning that you're in charge to-day surmised the big man shrewdly kent smiled i dare say we shall get on very well together mr his voice went up interrogatively bane adam bane attorney and counsellor at law for thirty years in the town of annalaka thank you my name is kent you already know my friend's name what kind of man is this medical officer? Breed? Not much. More of a politician than a doctor, and more of a horse-trader than either.

Fidgety as a sandpiper under shirt. Did he perform the autopsy at his own house? Him and the sheriff last evening. Didn't even have an undertaker to help lay out. The lobe of Kent's ear began to suffer from repeated handling. the body hasn't been identified i suppose nobody's had so much as a wink at it but those two and ira dennet he viewed the corpse last night that's why i guess your friend needs his friends and maybe a lawyer exactly mr denna doesn't seem to be precisely a deaf mute lawyer bane emitted a bubbling chuckle of the fat-throated it's quenna it's quaver quite some time since ire won any prizes for silent thought he stated you are known hereabouts he added after a pause very little gansett jim yonder looks as if he kind of cherished the honor of your acquaintance over his shoulder kent caught the half-breed's glance fixed upon him with stolid intensity a touch on his arm made him turn to the other side where Sailor Smith faced him.

Didn't hardly know you with your beard off, piped the old man. Howdy, Professor. You're finickyed up like your own weddon. Good morning, said the scientist. Are you going inside? No hurry, said the other. Hotter and Toffit in there. I want a good seat, so I think I'll go in at once, said Kent.

Sit with us, won't you? Mr. Sedgwick is with me." The ex-sailer started. "'Him?' he exclaimed. "'Here?' Kent nodded. "'Why not?' "'No reason, no reason at all,' said the old seaman hastily.

"'It's a public proceeding.' "'But you're surprised to see him here?' "'There's been quite a lot of talk. Suspicion you mean Well, yes People are inclined to connect Mr. Sedgwick with the death of the woman? What else can you expect? returned the old man, deprecatingly. Iry Dennett's been telling his story.

He's certain the woman he's seen talking to Mr. Sedgwick is the dead woman, willing to swear to it anywhere's. What about Gansett Jim? has he contributed anything to the discussion no jim's as close-tongued as iry as clatter-mouthed and probably with reason muttered kent well i'll look for you inside he returned to join sedgwick together they entered the building while behind them a rising hum testified to the interest felt in them by the villagers within a tall wizened man with dead fishy eyes stalked nervously to and fro on a platform beside which a hastily constructed coffin with a hasped cover stood on three saw horses on a chair near by slouched the sheriff his face red and streaming a few perspiring men and women were scattered on the benches outside a clock struck eleven there was a quick inflow of the populace and the man in the platform lifted up a chittering voice fell our citizens he said as medical officer i declare these proceedings opened

meaning no disrespect to the deceased we want to get through as spry as possible first we will hear witnesses anybody who thinks he can throw any light on this business can have a hearing then those as well as well as witnesses everybody who thinks he can throw any light on this business can have a hearing then those as wants may view the remains the burial will take place right afterwards in the town burying-ground our fellow-citizen and sheriff mr lenzschlager having volunteered the expenses that man said sedgwick in kent's ear is a great deal more nervous this minute than i am perhaps he has more cause to be whispered the scientist here comes the first one witness. A sheep herder had risen in his place and without the formality of an oath, told of citing the body at the edge of the surf at seven o'clock in the morning. Others, following, testified to the position on the beach, the lashing of the body to the grating, the wounds, and the manacles. Dr. Breed announced briefly that the deceased had come to her death by drowning, and that the skull had been crushed,

in, presumably, when the waves hammered the body upon the reefs. Then the corpse must have come from a good ways out, said Sailor Smith, for the reefs wouldn't catch it at that tide. Nobody knows how the dead come to lonesome cove, said the sheriff in his deep voice. There was a murmur of assent. The people felt a certain pride in the ill-omened locality. Elder Ira Dennett was the next and and last witness called somewhere beneath the elder's dry exterior lurked the instinct of the drama stalking to the platform he told his story with skill and fervor he made a telling point of the newly finished picture he had seen in sedgwick's studio depicting the moonlit charge of the wave-mounted corpse he sketched out the encounter between the artist and the dead woman vividly as he proceeded the glances turned upon sedgwick darkened from suspicion to enmity kent was almost ready to wish that he had come armed when dennet with a final fling of his arm

the artist stepped from the platform and resumed his seat amid a surcharged silence then sedgwick rose he was white but his voice was under perfect control as he said i presume i have the right to be heard in my own defense nobody's accused you yet growled schlager public opinion accuses me that is not to be wondered at in view of what elder dennet has just told you. It is all true, but I do not know the woman who accosted me. I never saw her before that evening. She spoke strangely to me and indicated that she was to meet someone and go aboard ship, though I saw no sign of a ship. You couldn't see much of the ocean from your house, said the medical officer. I walked on the cliffs later, said Sedgwick, and a murmur went through the courtroom. But I never found the woman. And as for throwing her out of a ship, or any such fantastic nonsense, I can prove that I was back in my house by a little after nine o'clock that

night. He sat down, coolly enough, but his eyes dilated when Kent whispered to him, Keep your nerve, the probability will be shown that she was killed before ten o'clock. Now, however, Dr. Breed was on his feet again. Form in line, ladies and gentlemen, said he, and passed the coffin as spry as possible. At this, Sheriff Schlager stepped forward and loosened the hasps, preparatory to removing the cover. The body has been left, said he, slipping the lid aside, just as... Of a sudden his eyes stiffened. a convulsive shudder ran through his big body he jammed the cover back and with fingers that actually drummed on the wood forced the hasps into place

she's come to life cried a voice from the rear no no rumbled the sheriff whirling upon the medical officer he whispered in his ear not more than a single word it seemed to the watchful kent the doctor turned ghastly gents he said in a quavering voice to the amazed crowd the program will not be carried out as arranged the the well the condition of the deceased is not fit'n he stopped mopping his brow but yankee curiosity was not so easily to be balked of its food it found expression in lawyer adam bane that ain't the law doc he said i'm the law here declared sheriff slager planting himself solidly between the crowd and the coffin one hand crept slowly back toward his hip don't pull any gun on me retorted the lawyer quietly. It ain't necessary. You heard Doc Breed say the body wasn't fitting to be viewed, pursued the sheriff. That's all right, too, but the dock hasn't got the final word. The law has. A quick murmur of assent passed through the room. And the law says, continued Bain, that the body shall be duly viewed. Otherwise, and the deceased being

buried without view, an order of the court to exhume may be obtained. Look at Breed, whispered Kent to Sedgwick. The medical officer's lips were gray as he leaned forward to pluck at the sheriff's arm. There was a whispered colloquy between them. Then Breed spoke with a pitiful effort at self-control. Lawyer Bain's point is correct, undubidably correct. But the body must be able to be able to. must be prepared it ought to have been looked to last night but somehow i we will six citizens kindly volunteer to fetch the coffin back to my house

ten times six offered their services the box was carried out swiftly followed by the variable hum of excited conjecture quickly quickly the room emptied itself except for a few stragglers end of chapter four R. R. R. Chapter 5 of The Secret of Lonesome Cove by Samuel Hopkins Adams. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Moline. Chapter 5. One use for a monocle. Sedgwick, who had followed the impromptu cortege with his vision, was brought up sharply by the glare of a pair of eyes outside the nearest window.

the eyes were fixed on his own their expression was distinctly malevolent without looking around sedgwick said in a low voice kent no answer came kent said the artist a little louder huh responded a muffled and abstracted voice behind him see here for a moment there was neither sound nor movement from the scientist An Indian-looking chap outside the window was trying to hypnotize me, or something of the sort. This information, deemed by its giver to be of no small interest, elicited not the faintest response. Somewhat peaked, the artist turned, to behold his friend stretched on a bench, with face to the ceiling, eyes closed, and heels on the raised end. His lips moved faintly.

Alarmed lest the heat had been too much for him, Sedgwick bent over the upturned face. From the moving lips issued a musical breath, which began its career softly as Raf's Cavatina, and came to an inglorious end in the strains of Honeyboy. Sedgwick shook the whistler insistently. "'Eh, what?' cried Kent, wrenching his shoulder free. "'Go away! Can't you see I'm busy? I'll give you something to think about. Look at this face of a cigar-store Indian at the window. No, it's gone. Gansett Jim probably, opined Kent. Just where his interest in this case comes in,

I haven't yet found out. He favored me with his regard outside, and he had some dealings with the sheriff on the beach. But I don't want to talk about him now, nor about it. anything else. Acting on this hint, Sedgwick let his companion severely alone, until a bustle from without warned him that the crowd was returning. Being aroused, Kent accosted one of the villagers who had just entered. Body coming back, he asked. Yep, on its way now.

What occurred in the house where they took it? Search me. Everybody was shot out by the sheriff. and the dock. They had that body to themselves nigh twenty minutes. At this moment the sheriff entered the hall, followed by Dr. Breed, who escorted the coffin to its supporting saw-horses. The meager physician was visibly at the fag end of his self-control. Even the burly sheriff looked like a sick man, as he lifted aside the coffin lid and spoke. "'There was reason, neighbors,' said he,

why the corpse wasn't suitable to be looked at nobody had seen it since last night we've fixed it up as good as we could and you'll now please pass by as quick as possible in the line that formed kent got a place behind elder dennet who had decided to take another look for good measure as he said the look was a productive one no sooner had it fallen on the face of the dead than dennet jabbed an indignant indicator finger in that direction, and addressed the sheriff. Hey, Len, what's this? What's what? growled Schlager. Why, there's a cut on the lady's right cheek. It wasn't there when I seen the corpse last night.

Ah, what's the matter with your eyes? demanded the sheriff, savagely. You want to hug the limelight, that's your trouble. This was evidently a shrewd lash at a recognized weakness, and the elder moved on amid jeering comments. But Sedgwick, whose eyes had been fixed upon Kent, saw a curious expression flicker and fade across the long-jawed face. It was exactly the expression of a dog that pricks up its ears.

The next moment a titter ran through the crowd, as a bumpkin in a rear seat called out, The dude's eyes ain't mates! Chester Kent, already conspicuous in his spotless white flannels, had made himself doubly so by drawing out a monocle and deftly fixing it in his right eye. He leaned over the body to look into the face and his head jerked back the merest trifle. Bending lower, he scrutinized the unmanacled right wrist.

When he passed on, his lips were pursed in the manner of one who whistles noiselessly. He resumed his seat beside Sedgwick. His eyes grew dull and melancholy. One would have thought him sunk in a daze or a doze while the procession filed past the unknown dead. His monocle, which had dropped from his eye as he turned from the coffin, dangled against his hand. Chancing to look down at it, Sedgwick started and stared. Kent's knuckle, as seen through the glass, stood forth, monstrous and distorted, every line of the bronze skin showing like a furrow. The monocle was a powerful magnifying lens. The sheriff's heavy voice rose,

Anyone here present recognize or identify the deceased? He droned, and, without waiting for a reply, set the lid in place and signaled to the medical officer. fellow citizens began the still-shaking physician we don't need any jury to find that this unknown drowned woman the deceased was not drowned emerging from his reverie chester kent had leisurely risen in his place and made his statement not drowned gasped the medical man certainly not as you must know if you made an autopsy no autopsy was necessary replied the other quickly there's plenty of testimony without that we've heard the witnesses that saw the drowned body on the grating it washed ashore on the body never washed ashore on that grating a murmur ran through the crowd how do you figure that called a voice on the underside of the grating i found a cocoon of a common moth half an hour in the water would have soaked the cocoon through and killed the insect inhabitant the insect was alive how'd the grating get there then dragged down from the high water mark on the beach it was an old half-rotted affair such as no ship would carry ask sailor smith that's true said the old seaman with conviction

you're an expert mr smith now was that grating large enough to float a full-grown human body why as to that a body ain't but a mite heavier than the water i should say it had just barely floated maybe exactly but plus several pounds of clothing and some dead metal extra no the clothes would have been soaked and handcuffs waist something, said Kent calmly. There might have been extra spars under the grating that got pounded loose on the beach and washed away, propounded the medical officer desperately. Look at the face, said Kent with finality. This is a bad coast. Most of you have seen drowned bodies.

Did anyone ever see an expression of such terror and agony on the face of one who came to death by drowning? no by thunder shouted somebody he's right others took up the cry clamor rose and spread in the room the sheriff silenced it with a stentorian voice what are you trying to get at he demanded facing kent the truth what are you slager's eyelids flickered but he ignored the counterstroke look out it don't lead you where you don't want to follow he returned with a significant look at sedgwick this is as far as it has led me said kent in his clear even voice the body already dead was dragged down and soaked in the sea and then lashed to the grating by a man who probably is or has been a sailor then the deceased met death on shore and presumably by violence said lawyer Bain. It's murder, cried a woman shrilly.

Bloody murder, that's what it is. Murder, echoed a voice from the doorway. Gansett Jim, his half-Indian, half-negrove face, alight with fury, stood there, pointing with stiffened hand at Sedgwick. There, the murderer! End of Chapter 5. Recording by Roger Malene. Chapter 6 of The Secret of Lonesome Cove by Samuel Hopkins Adams.

This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 6. The Retreat in Order No one moved in the courtroom for appreciable seconds after that pronouncement. As a flashlight photograph fixes an assemblage poised, with eyes staring in one direction, thus the half-breed's words had cast a spell of immobility over all. It was a stillness fraught with danger. No man could say in what violent form it might break.

First to recover from the surprise was the sheriff. You, Jim, set down, he shouted. If there's to be any accusin done here, I'll do it. I do it, persisted the half-breed. Blood is on his hand. I see it. Involuntarily Sedgwick looked at his right hand. There was a low growl from the crowd. Steady, came Kent's voice at his elbow.

Mistakes like that are Judge Lynch's evidence. Where was he the night of the killing? cried Gansett, Jim. Asked him, where was he? Where was you, if it comes to that? retorted the sheriff. and bit his lip with a scowl. At that betrayal, Chester Kent's eyelids flashed up, and instantly drooped again into somberness. This hearing is adjourned, twittered the medical officer.

Burial of the unknown will take place at once. All are invited. Invitation respectfully declined, murmured Sedgwick to Kent. I don't know that I'm exactly frightened. but I think I'd breathe easier in the open country. Well, I'm exactly frightened, replied Kent in the same tone. I want a run, which would probably be the end of us.

Curious things about those handcuffs, isn't it? He went on in a louder and easily conversational voice. During their slow progress to the door, he kept up a running comment, which Sedgwick supported with equal coolness. the crowd darkling and undecided pressed around them as they went through the doorway they were jostled by a sudden pressure following which kent felt a touch in his shoulder he turned to face the sheriff better get out of town quick advised schlager in a half-whisper thank you said kent in a clear and cheerful voice where can i get some tobacco starritt's grocery keeps the best said some informant back of him end of the square to the right much obliged said kent and strolled leisurely to his car followed by sedgwick as they took their seats and started slowly through the crowd sedgwick inquired earnestly do you crave tobacco at this particular moment worse than you do the peace and loneliness of the green fields

policy my young friend retorted kent i wish i could think up a dozen more errands to do the more casually we get out of town the less likely we are to be followed by a flight of rocks i don't want a perfectly good runabout spoiled by a mob both of them went into starratt's store where kent earned the reputation from starrot of being awful dang choosy about what he gets and came out into a considerable part of the populace which had followed as they re-embarked the sheriff put his foot on the running board better take my tip he said significantly very well returned kent there will be no arrest then not just now a peculiar smile slid sidewise off a corner of the scientist's long jaw nor at any other time he concluded he threw in the clutch leaving schlager with his hand in his hair and the crowd which might so easily have become a mob to disperse slowly and hesitantly having lacked the incentive of suggested flight on the part of the suspect to be sparked to its powder. When the car had won the open road beyond the village, Sedgwick remarked,

Queer line the sheriff is taking. Poor Schlager, said Kent, chuckling. No other line is open to him. He's in a tight place. But it isn't the sheriff that's worrying me. Who then? Gansett Jim. What did the...

sheriff mean by asking Gantz at Jim where he was on the night of the murder?" "'Murder,' said Kent quizzically. "'What murder?' "'The murder of the unknown woman, of course.' "'I don't know that there was any murder.' "'Oh, well, the death of the unknown woman, then.' "'I don't know that there was any unknown woman.' "' Quit it.

"'From what you do know, what do you think there's a woman?' sheriff meant? What do you think? I think that Gansett Jim killed her and is trying to turn suspicion on me. But if the sheriff knows where Gansett Jim was at the time of the killing, he can't suppose me guilty. I wonder if he really does believe me guilty. If he does, he doesn't care. His concern is quite apart from your guilt. it's too much for me confessed the artist and for me that is why i am going back to the village but i thought you were frightened if i stayed away from everything that alarms me said kent i'd never have a tooth filled or speak to a woman under seventy i'm a timid soul sedgwick but i don't think i shall be in any danger in annalaca so long as i'm alone here we are out with you i'll be back by evening end of chapter six recording by roger maline chapter seven of the secret

of Lonesome Cove by Samuel Hopkins Adams. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 7 Simon P. Groot does business. To his surprise, Kent, turning into the village square, found the crowd still lingering. A new focus of interest had drawn it to a spot opposite Sterrett's store,

where a wagon, decorated in the most of the market. advanced style of circus art, shown brilliant in yellow and green. Bright red letters across the front presented to public admiration the legend, Simon P. Groot, Simon Pure Goods. A stout projection rested on one of the rear wheels. Here stood the proprietor of the vehicle, while behind him in a window were displayed his wares. It was evident that Simon P. Groot followed the romantic career of an itinerant hawker, dealing in that wide range of commodities, roughly comprised in the quaint term, Yankee notions. Before the merchandising voice came to the new arrival's ears, as anything more than a confused

jumble, Kent was struck with the expanse of splendor of the man's gestures, the dignity of his robust figure, and the beauty of a broad whitening beard that spread sideways like the ripples from a boat stern. Two blemishes unhappily marred the majesty of Simon P. Grute's presence, a pair of pinhead eyes, mutually attracted to each other, and a mean and stringent little voice. Freed of these drawbacks, his oratory might well, one could not but feel, have rolled in any of our legislative chambers more superbly and just as ineffectually as much of the other orator. therein practiced. That the Annalakins were truly spelled bound by it was obvious.

Indeed, Kent was at a loss to understand the depth of their absorption until he had come within the scope of the high-piping words. "'There, gentlemen and ladies,' Simon P. Grute was saying, "'there, in that place of vast silences and infolding shadows, I met and addressed one who was soon to be no more. madam i said you are worn you are wan you are weary trust the chivalry of one who might be your father rest and be comforted as with balm standing by the roadside she drooped like a flower there is no rest for me said she in mournful tones i must away upon my mission stay i bade her ere you go but touch your lips to this revivifying flagon. DeLorimer's life-giving tonic, free from intoxicants, poisons, and

deception, a boom to the blood, a bomb to the nerves, a prop to the flagging spirit. She looked, she tasted, she drank. New colors sprang to her cheeks. Her form pulsated with joyous vigor. Aged sir, said she, I know not your name, but if the blessing of a harried spirit are of a veil, your sleep will be sweet this night. Of this wonderful bomb, ladies and gentlemen of Anilaka, I have still a few bottles left at the low price of half a dollar each. Sickness flies before it, amalgamating at once with the blood, it clears the precious life fluid of all impurities, and rehabilitates man, woman, and child, body, soul, and mind.

The shrill voice rose and fell. The wide beard quivered with the passion of salesmanship. The gaudy bottles on the shelf were replaced by half dollars until the market flagged. Whereupon again the orator took up his tale. Ever shall I give thanks for that inestimable privilege? The privilege of having given cheer to one on the brink of a dreadful doom. She vanished that fair creature into the forest.

I looked at my watch. The unerring warranted 16-jeweled chronometer, which I shall presently have the honor of showing to you at the unexampled price of 370, and saw that the hour was exactly, for these timepieces vary not one fraction of a second in a day, 8.45. When next I looked at the face of Father Time,

trustiest accountant it was to mark the hour of the horrid shriek that shook my soul precisely nine thirty one and later when i heard the dread news i realized that my ears had thrilled to a death-cry he looked about him with a face of controlled emotion his voice dropped to a throaty and mesmeric gurgle how frail he continued how frail and unduly and unremonted uncertain is the life of mankind. Who of these happy faces before me may not tomorrow be bathed in tears for the loss of some loved one? Best be prepared against the time of sorrow. I show you here a unique collection of framed mottoes, suitable alike for the walls of the humblest home or the grandest palace. Within these tasty frames are enshrined comforting mortuary verses, delicately ornamented by the hands of our leading artists, such poetry as distills assuagement upon the wounded heart.

And these priceless objects of art and agents of mercy I am distributing at the nominal charge of one dollar each." Kent moved away, his chin pressed down upon his chest. He went to the office of lawyer Adam Bain and spent an hour waiting with his feet propped up on the desk. When the lawyer entered, Kent remarked, You rather put our two official friends in a hole this morning. Just a mite, maybe, but they've crawled out. I guess I spoke too quick. How so? Well, if they'd gone ahead and buried the body as it was, we could have had it exhumed,

and then we'd have seen what we'd have seen. True enough, and you didn't see it as it was? See what? Did you? Kent's quiet smile sidled down from the corner of his mouth. Suppose, he said, you give me the fullest possible character sketch of our impulsive friend, the sheriff. Half an hour was consumed in this process. At the end of the time, Kent strolled back to the square, where Simon P. Groot had been discoursing.

There he found the ornate wagon closed, and its ornate proprietor whistling over some minor repairs that he had been making. An invitation to take a ride in Kent's car was promptly accepted. "'Business first,' said Kent. "'You're a seller. I'm a buyer. You've got some information that I may want. If so, I'm ready to pay.' was any of your talk true yep replied simon p grout austerely it was all true but the frills will you trim off the frills for ten dollars

fair dealing for a fair price is my motto you'll find it in gilt lettering on the back of the wagon i will what were you doing on hawkhill cliffs sleeping in the wagon and you really met this mysterious wanderer sure is your standing there what passed between you i gave her good evening and she spoke to me fair enough but queer and said that my children's children might remember the day now i ain't get any children to have children so i wouldn't have thought of it again but for the man that came inquiring after her when was that Not 15 minutes after. Did you tell the crowd hear that? Yep, I sold two dozen wedding rings on the strength and romance of that point. From my description, they allowed it was a painter man named Sedgwick. I thought maybe I'd call in and have him touch up the wagon a bit where she's rusty.

And you heard the woman cry out less than an hour later? That's a curious thing. I'd have almost sworn it was a man's voice that yelled. It went through me like a sharpened icicle. All this was night before last. What have you been doing meantime? Drove over to Marcus Corners to trade yesterday. There I heard about the murder and came back here to make a little business out of it.

I've done fine. You made no attempt to trace the one. woman. Look here, said Simon P. Groot after a spell of thoughtfulness. Your ten dollars is good, and you're a gent all right, but I think I've talked a little too much with my mouth around here, and I'm afraid they might dig up this lady and start something new and want me for a witness. Witnessing is bad for business. I'm safe, said Kent. So far so good. now would it be worth five dollars to you likely a relic of the murderer suggested the old man quite likely mums the word then for my part in it that next morning i followed her trail-aways

you see the yell in the night had got me interested it was an easy trail to follow for a man that's acquainted in the woods and i used to be a yard grubber do a little of it now sometimes She had met somebody in a thicket. I found the string and the paper of the bundle she was carrying there. Then there was a fight of some sort, for the twigs were broken right to the edge of the thicket, and the ground stamped down. One or both of them must have broken out into the open, and I lost the trail.

But this is what I found on a hazel bush. Do I win the five on it? Kent's eyes drooped, fixing themselves on a small object which the other had laid on his knee. His lips pursed. Nothing that could be interpreted as an answer came from them. Simon P. Groot waited with patience. Finally, he said, That's an awful pretty tune, your whistling, mister, but sad and terrible long.

What about the five? Do we trade? the car came to a stop digging into his pocket kent produced a bill which he handed over and still whistling the long meter china took possession of simon p grout's relic it was an embroidered silver star with a few torn wisps of cloth clinging to it end of chapter seven recording by roger maline chapter eight of the secret of lonesome cove by samuel adams this librivox recording is in the public domain recording by roger maline chapter eight reckonings facts that contradict each other are not facts pronounced chester kent fumes of tobacco were rising from three pipes hovered about the porch of the nook where kent sedgwick and lawyer bane were holding late counsel a discouraged observation from the artist had elicited Kent's epigram. Not all of them, anyhow, said Bain. The chore in this case is to find facts enough to work on.

On the contrary, declared Kent, facts in this case are as plentiful as blackberries. The trouble is that we have no pale to put them in. Maybe we could borrow Lenshleggers, suggested the lawyer, dryly. Kent received this with a subdued. snort. It is remarkable that the newspapers haven't sent men down on such a sensational case, he said. On the contrary to you, sir, retorted Bain, so much fake stuff has come out of Lonesome Cove

that the papers discount any news from here. All the better. The only thing that worries me more than the stupidity of professional detectives is the shrewdness of trained reporters. At least we can and work this out in our own way. We don't seem to be getting much of anywhere, complained Sedgwick. Complicated cases don't clear themselves up in a day, remarked Kent. In this one, we've got opponents who know more than we do. Schlaeger, asked the lawyer.

And Dr. Breed. Also, I think, Gansett Jim. What do you think, Mr. Bain, is the main spring of the shawl? sheriff's action. Money, said the lawyer, with conviction. He's as crooked as a snake with a colic. Would it require much money to influence him? As much as he could get,

if the case was in the line of blackmail, he'd hold out strong. He's shrewd. Dr. Breed must be getting some of it. Oh, Tim Breed is Lenn's little dog. He takes orange. orders. Of course he'll take money, too, if it comes his way. Like master, like man. Those two, said Kent slowly, know the identity of the body. For good and sufficient reasons, they are keeping that information to themselves. Those reasons we aren't likely to find out from

them. Murderer has bribed him, opined Bain. Possibly. But they're not. That presupposes that the sheriff found something on the body which led him to the murderer, which isn't likely. How improbable it is that a murderer, allowing for argument that there has been murder, who would go so far as to cover his trail and the nature of the crime by binding the body on a grating, would overlook anything like a letter incriminating himself.

What did the sheriff find, then, in the dead woman's pocket? perhaps a handkerchief with a distinctive mark and that would lead him to the identity of the body presumably also to someone we may assume who was willing to pay roundly to have that identity concealed that would naturally be the murderer wouldn't it asked sedgwick no i don't think so it looks to me so said the lawyer said the lawyer he's the one naturally interested in concealment. I'm almost ready to dismiss the notion of a murderer at all. Why so? demanded both the others. Because there was no murder, probably. How do you make that out? queried Bain.

From the nature of the wounds that caused death. They look to me to be just such wounds as would be made by a blow with the heavy, club. Several blows with the heavy club might have caused such wounds, but the blows would have had to be delivered peculiarly. A circle on the skull, six inches in diameter, impinging on the right ear, is crushed in. If you can imagine a man swinging a baseball bat at the height of his shoulder, repeatedly, and with great force, at the victim's head, you can infer such a crushing in of the bone. my imagination hardly carries me so far. Beating down from above would be the natural way, said Bain.

Certainly, no such blow ever made that wound. Then how was it made? asked Sedgwick. Probably by a fall from the cliff to the rocks below. And the fall broke the manacle from the right wrist? The broken mannacle was never on the right. wrist. That's merely conjecture, said the lawyer. No, it's certainty. A blow heavy enough to break that iron, old as it is, must have left a mark on the flesh. There was no mark. Why should anyone put one handcuff on a woman and leave the

other dangling? Suppose the other was not left dangling. Where was it then? on the wrist of some other person possibly a man had chained the woman to himself said sedgwick incredulously more probably the other way around that's even more unbelievable not if you consider the evidence you will remember that your mysterious visitor while talking with you carried a heavy bundle the manacles were i infer in that but what conceivable motive could the dead woman have in dressing herself up like a party going to meet a man and chaining him to herself when you have a bizarre crime you must look for bizarre motives just at present i'm dealing with facts the iron was on the left wrist of the body therefore it was on the right wrist of the unknown companion it is natural to perform a quick deft act like snapping on a handcuff with the right hand. Hence, presumably, your visitor was the one who clamped the cuffs. And the man broke off his?

Yes, but only after a struggle, undoubtedly. If I could find a man with a badly bruised right wrist, I should consider the trail's end in sight. You'll make inquiries, will you, Mr. Bain? I will, and a little. I'll keep an eye on Len Schlager and the dock. Anything more now? If not, I'll say good-night. After the lawyer had made his way into the darkness, Kent turned to his host. This affair is really becoming a very pretty problem. Why didn't you tell me of your meeting

with Simon P. Groot? Who? The Patriarch in the circus wagon. Oh, I'd forgotten. Why, when I was trying to trail the woman, I chanced upon him and asked if he had seen her. He hadn't. He had. Also, he heard a terrified cry shortly after. The cry, he thought, was in a man's voice. Simon P. Groot isn't wholly lacking in sense of observation.

A man's voice in a cry? What could that mean? Oh, any one of several hundreds. unthinkable things, said Kent patiently. Wait, she must have attacked some other man as she did me. She was going to her rendezvous, wasn't she? Then she and the man she went to meet quarreled, and he killed her by throwing her over the cliff. And the handcuffs?

Sedgwick's hands went to his head. That, of course, is the inexplicable thing. But don't you think that was the way she met her death? No. Then what do you think? Never mind that at present. The point is that Simon P. Grute naturally supposed you to have been mixed up in whatever tragedy there was going. You've an unfortunate knack of manufacturing evidenced against yourself, Sedgwick.

The redeeming feature is that the sheriff can't very well use it to arrest you. I don't see why. Kent chuckled. Don't you see that the last thing the sheriff wants to do is arrest anybody? No, I don't. Why, he has the body safely buried now. You'll remember that he was in a great hurry to get it buried. Identification is what he dreaded.

Danger of identification is now over. If anyone should be arrested, the body would be exhumed and the danger would return in aggravated form. No, he wants you suspected, not arrested. He is certainly getting his wish. For the present. Well, I'm off. Why don't you move your things from the hotel and stay here with me?

Suggested Sedgwick. Getting nervous? inquired Kent. It isn't that, but I think I think a... could make you more comfortable." Kent shook his head. Thank you, but I don't believe I'd better. When I'm at work on a case, I need privacy. And so you stick to a public hotel?

Queer notions you have of privacy? Not at all. A hotel is absolutely mine to do with as I please, as long as I pay my bills. I'm among strangers. I'm not interfered with. no house not even a man's own can possibly be so private as a strange hotel perhaps you're right admitted the other with a laugh then lapsing into pronounced gloom for the first time he said it seems pretty tough that i should be in all this coil and tangle because a crazy woman happened by merest chance to make a call on me kent's pipe glowed in the darkness and silence before he replied

then he delivered himself as follows sedgwick puff try puff to forget if you can puff puff that stuff about the crazy woman puff puff puff forget it how should i why should i because puff you're absolutely on the puff puff wrong track good night slowly kent climbed the road to the crest of the hill then stopped and looked back into the studio which had sprung into light as soon as he left sedgwick's figure loomed tall and spare in the radiance the artist was standing before his easel looking down at it fixedly kent knew what it was that he gazed on and as the lovely wistful girl face rose in his memory he sighed a little i mustn't forget that quest he said poor old sedgwick but once in his room the picture faded and there came before his groping mental vision instead the spectacle of the two dark figures chained together and battling the one for life the other for some mysterious elusive motive that fluttered at the portals of his comprehension like a half-remembered melody and the second struggling figure whose face was hidden flashed in the moonlight with the sheen of silver stars against black end of chapter eight recording by roger maline chapter nine of the secret of lonesome cove by samuel hopkins adams this librivox recording is in the public domain recording by roger maline chapter nine chester kent

declines a job. Sundayman's Creek Road, turning aside just before it gains the turnpike to airy hotel to evade a stretch of marsh, travels on wooden stilts across a deep, clear pool fed by a spring. Signs at each end of the crossing threaten financial penalties against any vehicle traversing the bridge faster than a walk. Now, the measure of a walk for an automobile is dubious, But the most rigorous constable would have found no basis for protest in the pace maintained by a light electric car, carrying a short, slender, elderly man, who peered out with weary eyes into the glory of the July sunshine. At the end of the bridge, the car stopped to allow its occupant a better view of a figure prostrate on the brink of the pool. Presently, the figure came to the posture of all fours.

The face turned upward, and the motorist caught the glint of a monocle. Then the face turned again to its quest. Are you looking for something lost? asked the man in the car. Yes, was the reply. Very much lost. When did you lose it, if it's not an impertinent question? Not in the least, answered the other, cordially. I didn't lose it at all. ah the motorist smiled when was it lost then across the monocled face passed a shadow of thoughtful consideration

about four million years ago i should judge and you are still looking i perceive that you are an optimist said the elderly man just at present i'm a limnologist pardon me a limnologist limnology is the science of the life found on the banks of small bodies of water it is a fascinating study i assure you there is only one chair of limnology in the world and you i presume are the incumbent asked the other politely no indeed the merest amateur on the contrary i'm humbly hoping to discover the eggs of certain neuropterous insects we know the insects and we know they lay eggs but how they conceal them has been a secret since the first dragonfly rose from the first pool ah you are an entomologist then to some extent so was i once when i had more time business has drawn my attention though never my interest away from it i've entirely dropped my reading in the last year by the way were you here in time to witness the swarm of antioppa's last month rather unusual i think no i missed that what was the feature specially the suddenness of the appearance you know helman says that pardon me who helmand the belgian oh yes certainly go on the stranger went on at some length he appeared to be an interested rather than a learned student of the subject as he talked sitting on the step of his car

from which he had descended, the other studied him, his quiet but forceful voice, his severely handsome face, with its high brows, harsh nose, and chiseled outlines, from which the eyes looked forth, thoughtful, alert, yet with the gaze of a man in pain. Presently, he said courteously, If you are going back to the hotel, may I take you along? I am Alexander Blair. thank you i'll be glad of a lift my name is chester kent not the professor kent of the ramsay case the same you know mr blair i've always believed that you had more of a hand in ramsay's death than i now if you wish to withdraw your offer of a lift not at all a man who has been so abused by the newspapers as i can stand a little plain speaking

for all that on my word professor kent i had no hand in sending ramsay on that dirty business of his the scientist considered him thoughtfully well i believe you said he shortly and got into the machine this meeting is a fortunate chance for me said blair presently chance murmured kent interrogatively the car swerved sharply but immediately resumed the middle of the road certainly chance said the motorist what else should it be of course agreed Kent, as you say. I said fortunate, continued the other, because you are, I believe, the very man I want. There is an affair that has been troubling me a good deal. I haven't been able to look into it personally because of the serious illness of my son, who is at my place on Sundayman's Creek, but it is in your line being entomological and perhaps

criminal. What is it? asked Kent. An inexplicable destruction of our stored woolens by the clothes-moth. You may perhaps know that I am president of the Kinsella Mills. We've been having a great deal of trouble this spring, and our superintendent believes that some enemy is introducing the pest into our warehouses. Will you take the case?

When? Start to-night for Connecticut. chester kent's long fingers went to the lobe on his ear give me until three o'clock this afternoon to consider can i reach you by telephone yes at hedgerow house my place that is how far from here fourteen miles but you need not come there i can return to the hotel to conclude arrangements and i think he added significant that you would find the project a profitable one. Doubtless, are you well acquainted with this part of the country, Mr. Blair? Yes, I've been coming here for years. Is there an army post nearby?

Not within a hundred miles. Nor any officers on special detail about? None, so far as I know. Kent produced from his pocket the silver star with the shred of cloth hanging to it. This may or may not be an important clue to a curious death that occurred here three days ago. Yes, I've heard something of it, said the other, indifferently. I took it to be mostly gossip. Before the death there was a struggle.

The star was found at the scene of the struggle. It looks like, you know, the star from the collar of an officer. I should say positively that it was from an army or navy uniform." "'Positiveness is the greatest temptation and snare that I have to fight against,' remarked Chester Kent. "'Otherwise, I should say positively, that no officer, going to a dubious rendezvous, would wear a uniform which would be certain to make him conspicuous. Are you yourself an expert

in woolen fabrics, Mr. Blair? I have been. Could you tell from that tiny fragment whether or not the whole cloth is all wool? Without replying, Blair gave the steering handle a quick sweep and the car drew up before a drugstore. He took the star and was gone a few minutes.

Not all wool, he announced on his return. Exit the army or navy. Navy officer, remarked Kent. Why so? Because regulations require all wool garments, and get them. What is the fabric? A fairly good mixture from the very elemental chemical test I made. Something in the nature of a worsted Batiste, I should judge, from what I could make out under the inferior magnifying glass that they loaned me. Thank you, Mr. Blair. You've eliminated one troublesome hypothesis for me.

I'll telephone you before three o'clock. Good day. From the woolen manufacturer, Chester Kent went direct to the Martindale Center Library, where he interviewed the librarian. Do you get the Agriculture Department publications? Yes. Have you a pamphlet issued by the Bureau of Interpol?

entomology, Helmand on the swarm phenomenon in Lepidoptera? Yes, sir. It was inquired for only yesterday by Mr. Blair. Ah, yes, he's quite interested in the subject, I believe. It must be quite recent, then, said the librarian. We haven't seen him here for a long time until two days ago, when he came and put in a morning reading on insects. so mr alexander blair said kent addressing the last fence post on the outskirts of the town after a thoughtful walk that was a fatal break on your part that mention of helmond amateurs who have wholly dropped a subject since years back don't usually no publications issued only within three months that casual meeting with me was well carried out and you called it chance

a very palpably manufactured chance but why am i worth so much trouble to know and why does alexander blair leave a desperately ill son to arrange an errand for me at this particular time and is hedgerow house fourteen miles distant and possessing just such an electric car as a woman would use in driving round the country perhaps the place whence came sedgwick's sweet lady of mystery? Finally, what connection has all this with the body lying in Anilacca burying ground? Eliciting no reply from the fence post, Kent returned to the airy, called up Hedro House, and declined Blair's proposition. Early that evening, Francis Sedgwick came to the hotel.

The clerk, at first negligent, pricked up his ears and exhibited unmistakable signs of human interest when he heard the name for the suspicion attaching to the artist had spread swiftly moreover the caller was in a state of hardly repressed excitement mr kent i'm afraid you can't see him sir he isn't in his room isn't he about the hotel the clerk hesitated i ought not to tell you sir for it's mr kent's strict orders not to be disturbed, but he's in his special room. Is it anything very important? Any new evidence or something of that sort? That is what I want Mr. Kent to decide. In that case, I might take the responsibility, but I think I had better take you to him myself. After the elevator had carried them to the top of its run, they mounted a flight of stairs, and walked to a far corner of the building nobody's been in here since he took it explained the clerk as they walked turned all the furniture out special lock on the door some kind of scientific experiments i suppose he's very quiet about it

having reached the door he discreetly tapped no answer came somewhat less timidity characterized his next effort a growl of surpassing savagery from within was his reward you see mr sedgwick said the clerk raising his voice he called mr kent i've brought get away and go to the devil cried a voice from inside in fury what do you mean by it's i kent sedgwick i've got to get away and go to the devil cried a voice from inside in fury what do you mean by it's i kent sedgwick i've got to see you." There was a silence of some seconds. "'What do you want?' asked Kent at length. "'You told me to come at once, if anything turned up.' "'So I did,' sighed Kent.

"'Well, chase that infernal bell-boy to the stairs, and I'll let you in.' With a wry face the clerk retired. opened the door and his friend squeezed through into a bare room. The walls were hung and the floor was carpeted with white sheets. There was no furniture of any kind, unless a narrow mattress in one corner could be so reckoned. Beside the mattress lay a small pad and a pencil. Only on the visitor's subconscious self did these peculiarities impress themselves, such was his absorption in his own interests. It's happened, he announced.

Has it? said Kent. Lean up against the wall and make yourself at home. Man, you're shaking. You'd shake, too, retorted the artist, his voice trembling. No, anger doesn't affect me that way. Wait, now don't tell me yet. If I'm to have a report, it must be from a sane, man, not from one in a blind fury, take time and cool down. What do you think of my room?

It looks like the abode of white silence. Have you turned trappist monk? Not such a bad guess. This is the retreat of my mind. I think against the blank walls. What's the game? asked Sedgwick, interested in spite of himself. It dates back to our college days. Do you remember that queer freshman Berwyn? The mind reader? Yes. The poor chap went insane afterwards.

Yes, it was a weak mind, but a singularly receptive one. You know, we used to force numbers or playing cards upon his consciousness by merely thinking of them. I recollect. His method was to stand gazing at a blank wall. He said the object we were thinking of would rise before him visually against the blankness. Did you ever figure out how he managed to do it? Not exactly, but his notion of keeping the mind blank for impressions

has its points. If you throw off the clutch of the brain, as it were, and let it work along its own lines, it sometimes arranges and formulates ideas that you wouldn't get from it under control. Sort of self-hypnosis? In a sense, for years I've kept a bare white room in my Washington house to do my hard thinking in. When you're a fair promise to become difficult for me, I rigged up this spot, and I'm trying to see things against the walls.

Any particular kind of things? Kent produced the silver star from his pocket and told of its discovery. The stars in their courses may have fought against Cicero, he remarked, but they aren't going out of their way to fight, to fight, to... To... Kent's jaw was sagging down. His lean fingers pulled savagely at the lobe of his long-suffering ear. The stars in their courses. In their courses. That's it, he half-whispered.

Sedgwick, what was it your visitor said to you about Jupiter? She didn't mention Jupiter. No, of course not, not by name. But what was it she said about the planet that she pointed out, over the sea? Oh, was that Jupiter? How did you? How did you? you know?" "'Looked last night, of course,' said Kent impatiently. "'There's no other planet conspicuous over the sea at that hour, from where you stood. That's not important, at least not now. What did she say?'

"'Oh, some rot about daring to follow her star and find happiness, and that perhaps it might lead me to glory or something.' a kind of snort came from kent where have my brains been he cried he thrust the bit of embroidery back into his pocket then with an abrupt change of tone well is your temper in hand for the present tell me about it then you remember the-the picture of the face said sedgwick with an effort nobody would easily forget it i've been doing another portrait from the sketches it was on opaque glass an experimental medium that i've worked on some late this afternoon i went out leaving the glass sheet backed against a lightboard on my easel the door was locked with a heavy spring there is no possible access by the window yet somebody came in and smashed my picture to fragments. If I can find that man, Kent, I'll kill him. Kent glanced at the artist's long, strong hands. They were clenched on his knees.

The fingers were bloodless. I believe you would, said the scientist with conviction. You mustn't, you know, no luxuries at present. Don't joke with me about this, Kent. Very good, but just consider, please, that I'm having enough trouble clearing you of a supposed murder of your doing to want a real one, however provoked, on my hands. Keep the man out of my way, then. That depends. Anything else in your place damaged? Not that I noticed, but I didn't pay much attention to anything else. I came here direct to find you.

that's right well i'm with you for the nook locking his curious room after him kent led the way to the hotel lobby where he stopped only long enough to send some telegrams the sun was still a few minutes short of its setting when he and his companion emerged from the hotel kent at once broke into a trot end of chapter nine recording by roger maline chapter ten of the secret of lonesome cove by samuel hopkins adams this librivox recording is in the public domain recording by roger maline chapter ten the invasion such ruin as had been wrought in sedgwick's studio was strictly localized the easel lay on the floor with its rear leg crumpled around it were scattered the fragments of the glass upon which the painter had set his labor of love. A high, old-fashioned chair faced the wreckage. On its peak was hung a traveling cap. Lopping across the back sprawled a Norfolk jacket belonging to Sedgwick. Chester Kent lifted the coat and after a swift survey let it drop.

Did you leave that there? he asked. I hung it across the back of the chair, answered Sedgwick. North window closed? Yes, as you see it now. And West One open? Nothing has been changed, I tell you, except this. Sedgwick's hand outstretched toward the destroyed portrait condensed itself involuntarily into a knotty fist.

The lock on the door hasn't been tampered with, said Kent. As for this open window, he leaned out, looking around, any man gaining access here must have used a ladder, which is unlikely in broad daylight. How about a pass-key for the door? There's a simpler solution nearer at hand, I fancy. You didn't chance to notice that things have happened to the coat,

as well as the easel. Then the invader went through the coat, and not finding what he was looking for, smashed my picture, cried Sedgwick. Through the coat, certainly, agreed Kent, with his quiet smile. Now, hang it across the chair back, just as it was, please.

Sedgwick took the Norfolk jacket from him. Why, there's a hole through it, he exclaimed. Exactly. The path of the invader. A bullet! right again instead of murdering as you pine to do you've been murdered that the picture was destroyed as merely a bit of ill-fortune that you weren't inside the coat when the bullet went through it and cut the prop from your easel is a bit of the other kind hang up the coat please sedgwick obeyed there said kent viewing the result from the window at a distance of say a quarter of a mile that arrangement of coat and cap would look uncommonly like a man sitting in a chair before his work at least i should think so

and yonder thicket on the hillside he added looking out of the window again is just about that distance and seems to be the only spot in sight giving a straight range suppose we run up there sound as was his condition sedgwick was panting when he brought up at the spot some yards behind his long-limbed leader as the scientist had surmised the arrangement of coat and cap in the studio presented at that distance an excellent simulacrum of the rear view of a man lounging in a chair bidding the artist stay outside the cops kent entered on hands and knees and made extended exploration after a few moments the sound of low lugubrious whistling was heard from the trees and presently the musician emerged leading himself by the lobe of his ear evidently you've found something commented sedgwick who had begun to comprehend his friend's peculiar methods of expression nothing then why are you so pleased with yourself that is why because you've found nothing exactly it seems an easy system observed the artist sarcastically so it is to a reasoning being i'm satisfied that some one fired a shot from here the marksman a good one saw you as he supposed jerked to the shot as if with a bullet threw you and went away satisfied leaving no trace behind him added Sedgwick. No trace that is tangible. Therein lies the evidence.

Of course, you don't expect me to follow that. Why not? Look at the ground in the thicket. What is there to be seen there, since you've said there are no marks? The soil is very soft. Yes, there's a spring just back of us. Yet there's not a footprint discernible on it. i've got that part of the lesson by heart i think use your brain on it then someone designing to make you his target has been in this thicket been and gone and left the place trackless that someone was a keen soft-footed woodsman putting it in words of one syllable i should say he probably had the racial instinct of the hunt does that flush any idea from the deep and devious coverts of your brain racial instinct gansett jim said sedgwick exactly if i had found tracks all over the place i should have known it wasn't he finding nothing i was naturally pleased that's more than i am retorted the other i suppose he's likely to resume his gunnery at any time unless we can discourage him as i suspect we can by having him arrested difficulties might be put in your way sheriff lenshleger and the half-breed are in some sort of loose partnership in this affair as you know

Gansett Jim honestly thinks that you had a hand in the lonesome Cove murder, as he believes it to be. It isn't impossible that the sheriff has subtly egged him on to kill you in revenge. Why does the sheriff want me killed? Nothing personal, I assure you, answered Kent with mock courtesy. I've already explained that he will not arrest you, but you're the suspect, and if you were put out of the way, everyone would believe you the murderer there would be a perfunctory investigation the whole thing would be hushed up and the body in anilaca churchyard would rest in peace presumably a profitable peace for the sheriff flat out kent do you know who the dead woman is flat out i don't but i've a shrewd guess that i'll find out before long from gansett jim

no hope there he's an indian what i'm going to see him about now is your safety now where do you expect to find him in the village i hope it wouldn't do for you to come there but i want you to go to the spot where you met the circus wagon man and wait until i bring jim it was a long wait for the worried artist in the deep forest that bounded the lonely road along hawkhill heights ten o'clock had chimed across the hill from the distant village when he heard footsteps and at a call from kent stepped out into the clear holding the lantern above him the light showed a strange spectacle kent watchful keen ready as a cat to spring stood with his eyes fixed upon the distorted face of the half-breed terror rage overmastering amazement and the sole panic of the supernatural glared from the blue-white eyeballs of the negro but the jaw and chin were set firm in the stoicism of the indian in that strange racial conflict of emotions the fiercer finer strain won gansett jim's frame relaxed he grunted good boy jim chester kent's voice at the half-breed's ear was the voice of one who soothes in a frightened horse i didn't know whether you could stand it or not you see you didn't shoot mr sedgwick after all do know what you mean grunted gansett jim and you mustn't shoot at em any more continued the scientist the tone was soft as a woman's but sedgwick felt in it the tensity of a man ready for any extreme

perhaps the half-breed too felt the peril of that determination for he hung his head i've brought you here to show you why pay good heed now a man traveling in a wagon was met here as he says by a woman you understand who questioned him and then went on he followed the trail through the brush and found the signs of a fight the fight took place before the death here's the lantern take his trail from here without a word the half-breed snatched the light and plunged into a by-path after a few minutes of swift going he pulled up short in an open copse of ash and set the lantern on the ground hound-like he nosed about the trodden earth suddenly he darted across and seizing sedgwick's ankle lifted his foot almost throwing him from his balance sedgwick wrenched himself free and with a swinging blow into which he put all the energy of his repressed wrath knocked the half-breed flat hands off damn you he growled gansett jim got to his feet a little unsteadily expectant of a rush his assailant stood with weight thrown forward but the other made no slightest attempt at reprisal catching up the lantern which had rolled from his hand he threw its light upon sedgwick's forward foot then he turned away kent whistled softly The whistle had a purring quality of content.

Not the same as the footprint, hey? he remarked. Footprint too small, grunted Gansett, Jim. How many people? Two? Three. Three, of course. I had forgotten the circus wagon man. He came later. But Jim, you see, it wasn't Mr. Sedgwick. What he followed?

for, demanded the other, savagely. No evil purpose. You can take his trail from the circus wagon and follow that, if you want to satisfy yourself further that he wasn't here. I'll let you have the lantern. Only, remember now, no more shooting at the wrong man. The half-breed made no reply. And you, Sedgwick, here's the destroyer. Do you still want to kill him? I suppose not, replied the artist, lifelessly. Since his design was only against your life and not against your picture, commented Kent with a smile,

Well, our night's work is done. Lifting the lantern, he held it in the face of the half-breed. Jim! Huh? When you really want to know who made those footprints, come and tell me who the body in Annalaka burying ground is, is. A trade for a trade. You understand? The eyes stared, immovable. The chin did not quiver. Reaching for the lantern, Gansett Jim, now nine of Indian to one of Negro, turned away from

them to the pathway. No, he said stolidly. As the flicker of radiance danced and disappeared in the forest, Sedgwick spoke. Well, do you consider that we've made a friend? No, answered Chester Kent. But we've done what's as good. We've quashed an enmity. End of Chapter 10.

Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 11 of The Secret of Lonesome Cove by Samuel Hopkins Adams. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. recording by Roger Maline Chapter 11 Hedgerow House Answers to the telegrams Chester Kent had dispatched arrived in the form of night letters

bringing information regarding the blairs of Hedgerauhaus. Not sufficient information to satisfy the seeker, however. Therefore, having digested their contents at breakfast, the scientist cast about him to supply the deficiency. the feat of hope led him to the shop of elder ira dennet besides being an able plumber and tinker elder dennet performed by vocation the pleasurable duties of unprinted journalism that is to say he was the semi-official town gossip as professor kent was a conspicuous figure in the choicest tidbit the elder had acquired in stock for many years and as the elder had been unable to come to speech with him since the inquest kent had achieved some skilful dodging there was joy in the plumber tinker's heart over the visit unhappily it appeared that kent was there strictly on business he did not wish to talk of the mystery of lonesome cove he wished his acetylene lamp fixed at once if elder dennet pleased

glum was the face of the elder as he examined the lamp which needed very little attention it lightened when his visitor observed i've been thinking a little of getting an electric car to run about herein there was a neat little one in town yesterday old blairs replied dennet i seen you in it known mr blair long he offered me a lift into town very kindly he was a stranger to me said kent truthfully and with intent to deceive who did you say he was gosh sakes don't you know who alec blair is blair blare said kent innocently Is he the author of Blair's Studies of Neuropterai? Elder Dennett snorted. He's a millionaire, that's what he is. Ain't you read about him in the Fabric Trust Investigations? Oh, that Blair!

Yes, I believe I have. Kent yawned. It was a well-conceived bit of strategy and met with deserved success. Regarding that yawn is a challenge to his vote. vocational powers, the elders set about eliminating the inhuman difference of which it was the expression. Floods of information poured from his eager mouth. He traced the history of the Blair's in and out of concentric circles of scandal, financial, political, social, and mostly untrue. Those in which the greatest

proportion of truth in haired dealt with the escapades of Wilfred Blair, the only son and heir of the household, who had burned up all the paternal money he could lay hands on, writing his name in red fire across the nightlife of London, Paris, and New York. Tiring of this, he had come home and married a girl of nineteen, beautiful and innocent, whose parents, the elder piously opined, had sold her to the devil, per Mr. Blair agent. The girl whose maiden name was Marjorie Dorrance, Kent's fingers went to his ears at this, had left Blair after a year of marriage, though there was no legal process, and he had returned to his haunts of the gutter until retribution overtook him in the form of tuberculosis. His father had brought him to their

place on Sundayman's Creek, and there he was kept in semi-saclusion, visited from time to time by his young wife, who helped a care for him. That's the story they tell, commented the elder, but some folks has got suspicions. It's a prevalent complaint, murmured Kent, and highly contagious. Dennett stared. My own suspicions, he proceeded firmly, is that the young feller hasn't got no more consumption than you have.

I think old Blair has got him. here to keep him out of the papers. Publicity is not to Mr. Blair's taste, then? Not's no word for it, declared the Human Bureau of Information, delighted at this evidence of drawing interest on the part of his hearer. He's crazy against it. They say he pays town tidbits a thousand dollars a year to let young Blair's name a loan. I don't believe the old man would hardly stop short of murder.

to keep his name out of print he's kind of loony on the subject you've been to his country place only once mostly they have one of them scientific plumber fellers from boston the elder's tone was as essence of gall and wormwood once i had a job there though and i seen young blair mooting around the grounds with a man-nourke quite a place i hear suggested Kent. Sailor Milt Smith is the fellow that can tell you about the place as it used to be. Here he comes, up the street. He thrust his head out of the door and called. Sailor Smith, sturdy and white, entered and greeted Kent courteously. Mr. Dennett was saying, remarked Kent,

that you know something of the history of Hedgerow House, as I believe they call it. they call it repeated the old sailor who calls it if you mean the blair place that's hogs haven that is you can't wipe out that name while there's a man living as knew the place at its worst old captain hogg built it and lived in it and died in it and if there's a frying pan in hell the devil is fryin bacon out of old hog today for the things he'd done in that house how long since did he die oh twenty year back and the house was sold soon after stood vacant for ten years then this rich feller blair bought it i don't know him but he bought a weevilly biscuit there a bad house it is rotten bad what's wrong with it men's bones in the brick and women's blood in the mortar was the old boy a cannibal asked kent amused by the sea veterans heroics just as bad slave-trader have you ever been in the house many's the time when it was hogshaven only one since. They do tell that the curse has come down with the house and is heavy on the new owner's son. So I've heard." The old white head wagged boatingly.

"'The curse of the blood,' he said. "'It's on all that race.' "'But that wouldn't affect the Blairs?' "'Not Alec Blair, but the boy.' "'How so?' "'Didn't you know. there was the same strain in young Wilfred Blair as there was an old Captain Hogg's oldest sister was the grandmother of this young feller's mother wasn't she put in elder Dennett that's right Wilfred Blair's great-grandmother and a bad on too I guess

continued the elder relishingly don't you say it cried the old seaman the curse of the blood was on her She was, and beautiful, so my mother used to tell me, but not bad. She came in at Lonesome Cove, too. Drowned at sea? asked Kent. They never knew. One day she was gone, the next night her body came in. They said in the countryside that she had the gift of second sight and foretold her own death. Huh, mused Kent.

now the blairs have changed the name of the place. No wonder. There's one thing they haven't changed, the private burion plot. Family? Hogs there all right, and never a parson in the countryside dared to speak to God about his soul when they laid him there. His nephew, too, that was as black-hearted as himself. But the rest of the graves has got no headstones. slaves them as he kept for his own service and killed in his tantrums nobody knows how many you can see the bend of the creek where they lie from the road and the old willows that lean over him cheerful sort of person the late mr hogg seems to have been any relics of his trade in the house relics you may say so his old pistols and compasses guns, nautical instruments, and the leaded whalebone whip that they used to say he slept with. They've got him hung in the walls now for ornaments. Orniments! If they'd seen him as I've seen

them, they'd sink the dumbed things in a hundred fathom a clean sea. Sailor Smith was cabin-boy on one of the old Hogfleet one voyage, explained Elder Dennett. "'God forgive me for it,' said the old man. there they hang and with him the chains and isn't that lamp finished yet demanded kent turning sharply upon elder dennet having paid for it with something extra for his curtness he led the seaman out of the place you were going to say and handcuffs weren't you he inquired why yes what of that asked the veteran puzzled suddenly he brought his hand down with a slap on his thigh where was my wits he cried them irons on the dead woman's wrist i knew i'd seen their like before slave manacles they must a come from hogshaven very likely but that suspicion had better be kept quiet at present ay ay sir agreed the other more devilment from the old haven a bad house a rotten bad house yet i've a pressing desire to take a look at it said chester kent musingly

going back to annalaka mr smith i'll walk with you as far as the road to mr sedgwick's freed of the veteran's company at the turn of the road kent sat down and took his ear in hand to think miss dorrance he mused marjorie dorrance what simpler twist for a nickname than to transform that into marjorie poor sedgwick at the nook he found the object of his commiseration mournfully striving to piece together as in a mosaic the shattered remnants of his work sedgwick brightened at his friend's approach for heaven's sake come out and do me a couple of sets of tennis he besought i'm no sport for you i know particularly as my nerves are jumpy but i need the work sorry my boy said kent but i've got to make a more or less polite call didn't know you had friends in this part of the world said sedgwick in surprise oh friends said kent rather disparagingly say acquaintances people named blair ever know em used to know a wilfrid blair in paris said the artist indifferently What kind of a person was he? Unagreable enough, little beast, but a rounder of the worst sort.

I won't go so far as to say that he shocked my moral sense in those days, but he certainly offended my sense of decency. He came back to America, and I lost track of him. Is he the man you're going to see? No such luck, said Chester Kent. I never expect to see Mr. Wilfred Blair. Probably I shan't even be invited to his funeral. Oh, is he dead?

His death is officially expected any day. Sedgwick examined his friend's expression with suspicion. Officially? Then he's very ill? No, he isn't ill at all. Don't you think you overdo this, business of mystification sometimes, Kent? Merely a well-meant effort, smiled the other,

to divert your mind from your own troubles before they get any worse. With which cheering farewell, Kent stepped out and into his waiting car. End of Chapter 11. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 12 of The Secret of Lonesome Cove by Samuel Hopkins Adams. this librovoc's recording is in the public domain recording by roger maline chapter twelve the unbidden visitor

one of kent's washington friends once criticized the scientist's mode of motoring as follows kent's a good driver and a fast one and careful but he can never rid himself of the theory that there's a strain of hunter in every well-bred motor-car cross-country travel was in fact rather a fad of kent's and he had trained his light car to do everything but take a five-barred gate after departing from the nook it rolled along beside sundayman's creek sedately enough until it approached the wide bend where it indulged in a bit of path-finding across the country and eventually crept into the shade of a clump of bushes and hid its occupant emerged and went forward afoot until he came in view of hedgerow house at the turn of the stream he leaped a fence and made his way to a group of willows beneath which the earth was ridged with little mounds professor chester kent was trespassing he was invading the territory of the dead from the seclusion of the graveyard amid the willows a fair view was afforded of head hedgerow house. Grim, as was the repute given it, it presented to the intruder an aspect of homely, hospitable sweetness and quaintness. Tall hollyhocks lifted their flowers to smile in at the old-fashioned windows. Here and there, on the well-kept lawn, peonies glowed, crimson and white. A great clambering

rose-tree had thrown its arms around the square porch, softening the uncompromising angles into curves of leafage and bloom. Along the paths, pansies laughed at the sun, and mignonette scattered its scented summons to bee and butterfly. The place was a loved place, so much Kent felt with sureness of instinct. No home blooms except by love. But the house was dead, its eyes were closed. Silence held it. The garden buzzed and flickered with vivid, multicolored life. But there was no stir from the habitation of man. Had its occupants deserted it?

Chester Kent, leaning against the headstone of Captain Hogg of damnable memory, pondered and wondered. From the far side of the mansion came the sound of a door opening and closing again. Moving quickly along the sumac-fringed course of the creek, made a detour which gave him view of a side entrance and had barely time to efface himself in the shrubbery when a light wagon with a spirited horse between the shafts turned briskly out into the road kent well sheltered caught one brief sufficient glimpse of the occupant it was dr breed the medical officer looked as always nerve beset but there was a greedy smile on his lips kent's mouth puckered he took a deep breath of musical inspiration and exhaled it in painful noiselessness flattening himself amid the greenery as he saw a man emerge from the rear of hedgerow house the man was gansett jim he carried a pick and a spade and walked slowly presently he disappeared in the willow-shaded place of mounds the sound of his toil came muffled to the ears of the hidden man.

Cautiously, Kent worked his way, now in the stream, now through the heavy growth on the banks, until he gained the roadway. Once there he went forward to the front gate of Hedgerow House. The bricked sidewalk runs thence, straight and true to the Rose-Boward square porch, which is the mansion's main entry. Kent paused for the merest moment.

his gaze rested on the heavy black door heavier and blacker against the woodwork a pendant waved languidly in the faint breeze to the normal human being the grisly insignium of death over a portal is provocative of anything rather than mirth but chester kent viewing the crepe on hedgerow house laughed as he turned to the open road end of chapter twelve recording by roger maline chapter thirteen of the secret of lonesome cove by samuel hopkins adams this librivox recording is in the public domain recording by roger maline chapter thirteen loose ends meditation furrowed the brow of lawyer adam bane customarily an easy-minded participant in the placid affairs of his community he had had been shaken out of his rut by the case in which Kent had enlisted him, and in which he had thus far found opportunity for a little more than thought. Nobody versus Sedgwick, grumbled he. Public opinion versus Sedgwick, he amended.

How's a self-respecting lawyer going to earn a fee out of that? And Len Schlegger standing over the grave of the corpus delecti with a warrant against searching, so to speak, in his hand. For that matter, this Professor Kent worries me more than the sheriff. A sharp humming rose in the air and brought the idle counselor to his window, whence he beheld the prime author

of his bewilderment descending from a car. A minute later, the two men were sitting with their feet on one desk, a fairly good sign of mutual respect and confidence. Blair, said lawyer Bain, No, I don't know him, not even to see. Took Hogshaven, didn't he? Then he doesn't use this post office?

No, might use any one of half a dozen. See here, he drew a county map from a shelf. Here's the place. Seven railroad stations on three different roads within ten miles of it. Anilaka would be way out of his reach. Yet Gansett Jim seems to be known here. Oh, is it Blair that the Indian works for? I never knew.

Closer and a deaf-mute with lockjaw he is. Well, I expect the reason he comes here occasionally is that it's the nearest licensed town. Lo, the poor engine, when he wants a drink, will walk ten miles, as easy as you'd wink. Do you know most of the most of the same thing? of the post offices around here? There isn't but one postmaster within 20 miles that I don't call by his first name,

and she's a postmistress. Then you could probably find out by telephone where the Blair family get their mail? Easy. And perhaps what newspapers they take? Hmm, yes, I guess so. Try it, as soon as you get back. back from where back from the medical officer's place i think he must have returned by this time you want to see tim breed no just his records burial permits i suppose are a matter of public record yes all you have to do is go and ask for him you won't need me regrettable as his bad taste is said kent with a s

solemn face. I fear that Dr. Breed doesn't regard me with that confidence and esteem, which one reads of in illuminated resolutions. And you want me as an accelerator, eh? smiled the lawyer. All right, it's the Jane Doe permit year after, I suppose. Which? Jane Doe. They buried the corpse from Lonesome Cove under that name. Unidentified dead, you know. of course of course assented kented kent if you're looking for anything queer in the official paper you won't find it you've examined it yourself yes good nevertheless i'd like to see the record together they went to the medical officer's quarters dr breed had come in fifteen minutes before without preliminary lawyer bain said i want to see that i want to see that jane doe's certificate again aren't you afraid of wearing out the ink on it adam retorted the other with a furtive grin

and i said chester kent in his suavest manner venture to trouble you to show me the certificate in the case of wilfrid blair something like a spasm shook the liniment of dr breed's meager face blair he repeated how did you know he stopped short how did i know that wilfrid blair is dead kent finished for him why there has been time enough hasn't there the physician's hands clawed nervously at his straggling hair time enough he murmured time enough i'm only just back from the blair place myself news travels faster than a horse observed kent it don't travel as fast as all that retorted the medical officer and shut his teeth on the sentence as if he could have bitten the tongue that spoke it ah commented kent negligently then he died within two hours or so this morning retorted the other it's all in the certificate all inquired kent so significantly that lawyer bain gave him a quick look all that's your business or anybody else's said breed recovering himself a bit doubtless and i'm to be permitted to see the this document? Brede pushed a paper across the table. There it is. I just finished making it out. I see, said Kent, giving the paper a scant survey,

that the cause of death is set down as cardiac failure. Well, what's the matter with that? Just a trifle non-committal, isn't it? You see, we all die of cardiac failure, except those of us who fall from airships. That record's good enough for the law, declared the medical officer, doggedly. Who was the attending physician? I was. Indeed.

And to what undertaker was the permit issued? It was issued to the family. They can turn it over to what undertaker they please. Where is the interment to be? Say, looky here, Mr. Mann, cried the physician, breaking into the sudden whining fury of hard-pressed timidity. Are you trying to learn me my business? You can go to hell.

That's what you can do. With your signature on my certificate? inquired the scientist, unmoved. I won't trouble you so far, Dr. Breed. I thank you. Outside on the street, lawyer Bain turned to his client. you didn't look at the jane doe paper at all no i'm not so interested in that as in the other something queer about this blair death why the fact that the attending physician and the certificating officer are one and the same that there doesn't appear to be any real cause of death given or any undertaker and that the interment is too private for breed even to speak of with equanimity might seem to be any reason for a crime

so to a man looking for trouble not another murder said the lawyer one side of Chester Kent's face smiled no he said positively certainly not that there has been a lot of scandal about young Blair I'm told perhaps they're burying him as quietly as possible just to keep out of the papers I shouldn't consider his method of burial likely to prove particularly quiet, returned Kent. Of course, I may be wrong, but I think not. The most private way to get buried is in public. Well, if a death was crooked, I'd want no better man than breed to help cover it up.

By the way, the sheriff has been away since yesterday afternoon on some business that he kept to himself. That also may mean something, remarked Kent. thoughtfully. Now, if you'll find out about that newspaper matter, I'll go on over to Sedgwick's. You can get me there by telephone. In the studio, Kent found Sedgwick walking up and down with his hands behind his back and his head forward. Why the caged lion effect? inquired the scientist. Someone has been having a little fun with me, growled Sedgwick.

Apparently it was one-sided. What's this on the easel? What would you take it to be? Let's have a closer look. Walking across the room, Kent planted himself in front of the drawing board, upon which had been fixed, by means of thumb-tacks, a square of rather soft white paper, exhibiting evidence of having been crumpled up

and subsequently smoothed out. on the paper was a three-quarter drawing of a woman's head the delicate face beneath waves of short curly hair turned a little from the left shoulder which was barely indicated setting his useful monocle in his eye kent examined the work carefully i should take it he pronounced at length to be sort of a second-hand attempt at a portrait you recognize it though it bears a resemblance to the face of the corpse at lonesome cove pretty good likeness for a thing done from memory i think memory whose memory well mine for instance oh no that won't do you know it isn't your style of drawing at all setting up for an art critic are we aside from which you certainly wouldn't be using this sort of paper when you've cardboard to your hand." "'So you're not to be caught, I see,' said Sedgwick with a nervous laugh. "'Not in so plain a trap, at any rate. Where did that precious work of art come from?'

"'Heaven knows! Ching Lung found it lying on the doorstep, with the cobblestone holding it down. I'd like to lay my hands on the artist.' you'd crumple him up as you did this little message eh smiled kent at least i'd have an explanation out of him it's a fact though that i lost my temper and threw that thing into a corner when ching first handed it to me then it occurred to me that it might be well worth saving interesting little sketch don't you think no what you don't find it interesting profoundly but it isn't a sketch what would you call it then a copy how can you tell that you haven't seen the original from which it was made have you no then what's the basis quite simple if you had used your eyes on it instead of your temper you might have seen it once that it is a tracing look for yourself now now. Taking the magnifying monocle that Kent held out, the artist scrutinized the lines of the picture. By Jove, you're right, said he. It's been transferred through tracing paper and touched up afterward.

Rather roughly, too. You can see where the copyist has borne down too hard on the lead. What's your opinion of the likeness, if it is the likeness which you suppose? inquired kent why as i remember the woman this picture is a good deal idealized the hair and the eyes are much the same but the lines of the face in the picture are finer the chin and mouth are more delicate and the whole effect softer and of a higher type do you see anything strange about the neck on the left side badly drawn that's all just below the ear there is a sort of blankness isn't there why yes it seems curiously unfinished just there if you were touching it up how would you correct that with a slight shading just there where the neck muscle should be thrown up a bit by the turn of the head or by introducing a large pendant earring which the copier has left out can't you're a wonder that would do it exactly but why in the name of all that's marvellous should the tracer of this drawing leave out the earring obviously to keep the picture as near like as possible to the body on the beach then you don't think it is the woman on the beach no i don't who else could it possibly be

perhaps we can best find that out by discovering who left the drawing here that looks like something of a job not very formidable i think suppose we run up to the village and ask the local stationer who has bought any tracing paper there within a day or two as the demand for tracing paper in martindale center was small the stationer upon being called on had no difficulty in recalling that elder dennet had been in that afternoon and made such a purchase then he must have discovered something after i left him said kent to sedgwick for he never could have kept his secret if he'd had it then but what motive could he have cried the artist just mischief probably that's enough motive for his sort turning to the storekeeper kent asked do you happen to know how mr dennett spent the early part of this afternoon i surely do he was up to dimmock's rummage auction and he got something there that tickled him like a feather but he wouldn't let on what it was the original said sedgwick what does dimmock deal in all kinds of odds and ends he scrapes the country for bankrupt sales and has a big auction once a year everybody goes you can find anything from a plow handle to a second-hand marriage certificate at his place we now call on elder dennet said kent that worthy was about closing up shop when they entered don't your lamp work right yet professor kent he inquired perfectly responded the scientist we have come to see you on another matter mr sedgwick and i

first let me thank you said sedgwick for the curious work of art which you left at my place hey inquired the elder with a rising inflection don't take the trouble to lie about it put in kent just show us the original of the drawing which you traced so handily the town gossip shifted uneasily from foot to foot how do you know i got the picture he giggled i didn't find it myself till i got back from the auction never mind the process have you the original here yes said elder dennet and going to his desk he brought back a square of heavy bluish paper, slightly discolored at the edges. "'That's a very good bit of drawing,' said Sedgwick, as he and Kent bent over the paper. "'But unsigned,' said his companion. "'Now, Mr. Dennett, whom do you suppose this to be?' "'Why, the lady that stopped to talk with Mr. Sedgwick, and was killed in Lonesome Cove.'

"'Then why did you leave out this earring?' in copying the picture. "'Ah, well,' explained the other in some confusion. "'She didn't have no earrings on when I seen her, and it looks a lot more like without it. "'You're bent for gratuitous mischief amounts to a passion,' retorted the scientist. "'Someday it will get you into deserved trouble, I trust.' "'I guess there ain't no law to prevent my giving away a picture,

if I like," sulked the elder. Perhaps you'd like to give away another one. Yankee shrewdness sparkled in the eye of Mr. Dennett. Mr. Sedgwick said that was a good drawn, and I guess he knows. I guess it's worth money. How much money would you guess? Five dollars, replied the other in a bold expulsion of breath. At this moment Sedgwick,

who had been studying the picture in the light, made a slight signal with his hand, which did not escape, Kent. $5 is a big price for a rough pencil sketch, said the scientist. I'd have to know more of the picture to pay that for it. Where did you find it? In this book?

I bought the book at Dimmick's rummage auction. He produced a decrepit, loosely-bound edition of the Massachusetts Agricultural Reports. The picture was stuck in between the leaves. No name in the book, said Kent. The fly leaf is gone, but here's the date of publication, 1830. That would be just about right, said Sedgwick with lively interest.

Right for what? demanded Dennett. Before there was time for return, reply, Kent had pressed a five-dollar bill into his hand with the words, You've made a trade. Wait, protested the elder, but the sketch was already in Sedgwick's possession. It's an Elliot, said that gentleman. I'm sure of it. I've seen his sketches before, though they're very rare, and there's an unmistakable touch about his pencil work. In that case, said King.

Kent, suavely, Mr. Dennett will be gratified to know that he is sold for five dollars, an article worth fifty times that. They left him, groaning at his door, and went to look up Dimmock, the rummage man. But he was wholly unable to throw any light on the former owner of the reports, in which the drawing had been tucked away. There the investigation seemed to be up against a blank wall. Isn't it astounding, said Sedgwick? Here's a portrait, anti-dating 1830, of a woman who has just died young.

What was the woman I saw, a revenant in the flesh? If you ask me, said Kent slowly, I should say, rather, an imitation. Further, he would not say, but insisted on returning to the nook. as they arrived the telephone bell was ringing with the weary persistence of the long unanswered to kent's query lawyer bain's voice announced i've been trying to get you for an hour sorry said kent is it about the newspapers yes said the lawyer i've got the information and he stated that four newspapers went regularly to hedge row house the new york star and messenger and the boston eagle to alexander blair and the boston free press to wilfrid blair over this information kent whistled in such melancholy tones that his host was moved to protest you're on the track of something and you're keeping it dark from me i'm not traveling the most brilliantly illuminated paths myself my young friend replied kent and lapsed into silence

the artist set the elliott's sketch beside the copy and compared them for a time then he fell to wandering desolately about the studio suddenly he turned walked over to his friend and laid a hand on his shoulder kent for the love of heaven can't you do something for me you mean about the girl sedgwick nodded i can't get my mind to stay on anything else even this infernal puzzle of the pictures doesn't interest me for more than the minute the longing for her is eating the heart out of me my dear frank said the other quietly if there were anything i could do don't you think i'd be doing it it's a very dark tangle and first of all i have to clear you never mind me what do i care what people think or what she may think sedgwick's head drooped i didn't consider that it may be the very center point for consideration if there were only something to do fretted the artist it's this cursed inaction that is getting my nerve if that's all returned kent slowly i'll give you something to do and i fancy he added grimly. It will be sufficiently absorbing

to take your mind from your troubles for a time at least. Bring it on. I'm ready. All in good time. Meantime, here's a little test for your intelligence. Problem, continued Kent, with a smile. When the bewildered medieval mind encountered a puzzle too abstruse

for ordinary human solution, what was its refuge? magic i suppose said sedgwick after some consideration good you get a high mark the medival mind i may observe was at times worthy of emulation explain i am seriously thinking my dear young friend said kent solemnly of consulting an astrologer you're crazy retorted sedgwick i wish i were for a few hours said kent with entire seriousness it might help well that's where i'll be if you don't find something for me to do soon so come on and materialize this promised activity if you regard a trip to the martindale public library as activity i can furnish that much excitement what are you going to do there consult the files of the newspapers and pick out a likely high-class astrologer from the advertisements that has a mild nutty flavor but it doesn't excite any profound emotion in me except concern for your sanity you've said that before retorted kent however i'm not sure i shall take you with me anyway then that isn't the coming adventure

no nothing so mild and innocuous are you asking me to run some danger is it to see her said sedwick eagerly leave her out of it for the present there is no question of seeing her now the artist sighed and turned away but the danger is real enough and pretty ugly life isn't so wholly delightful to me just at present that i wouldn't risk it in a good cause but this is a bigger risk than life there's an enterprise forward which if it fails means the utter damning of reputation. What do you say? Kent, said Sedgwick after a moment's thought. I'm 32 years old. Ten years ago, I'd have said yes at the drop of the question. Perhaps I value my life less and my good name more than I did then. What's the inducement? The probable clearing up of the case we're on. Is that all the information I get? I'd rather not tell you any more at present.

It would only get on your nerves and unfit you for the job. Again, Sedgwick fell into thought. When I come to tackle it, continued Kent, I may find that one man could do it alone, but— Wait! You're going into it, are you? Oh, certainly. With or without me? Yes.

why couldn't you have said so at first and saved this discussion cried his host of course if you're in for it so am i but what about your reputation it's worth a good deal to me confessed the scientist and i can't deny i'm staking it all in my theory of this case if i'm wrong well it's about the finny of my career see here chet broke out his friend do you think i'm going to let you take that kind of a chance for me it isn't for you declared the other with irritation it's for myself can't you understand that this is my case you're only an incident in it i'm betting my career against well against the devil of mischance that i'm right as i told you i'm naturally timid i don't plunge except on a practically sure thing so don't get any foolish notions of obligation to me think it over meantime do you care to run over to the library no well for the rest of the evening i can be found no i cannot be found though i'll be there in room five seventy one All right, said Sedgwick, you needn't fear any further intrusion. But when is our venture?

Tomorrow night, replied Kent, Wilfred Blair having officially died, as per specifications, today. End of Chapter 13. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 14 of The Secret of Lonesome Cove by Samuel Hopkins Adams. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 14. The lone fisherman.

Trout are a tradition rather than a prospect in Sundayman's Creek. Some, indeed, consider them a myth. Hope springs eternal in the human breast, however, and a fisherman, duly equipped, might have been observed testing the upper reaches of the stream in the morning of July 10th. Although his rod and tackle were of the best, his apparel was rough, not to say scrubby. An old slouch hat was drawn down over his forehead,

and staring blue glasses sheltered his eyes against the sun, which was sufficiently obscured, for most tastes, by a blanket of gray cloud, promising rain. Under arching willow and by promising rock, his brown hackle flickered temptingly, placed by an expert hand. But, except for one sunfish who had exhibited suicidal curiosity, there was none to admire his proficiency. One individual indeed had witnessed it, but without admiration,

an urchin angling under a bridge for bullheads. "'What are you getting with that rig?' he had inquired with the cynicism of the professional. Oh, some snags and an occasional branch, and now and then a milkweed, returned the angler, amiably. Well, you can't fish below the next bend, the urchin informed him. Them folks that bought Hogshaven has wire-fenced off the creek. I had just as leaf get tangled in a wire fence as any other kind, replied the angler, with cheery pessimism, whipping his fly into a shaded spot where a trout would surely have been lurking if the entire Salmo family hadn't departed for the happy fishing grounds several generations back in consequence of the pernicious activities displayed by an acquisitive sportsman with an outfit of dynamite and sticks suit yourself retorted the boy you won't get nothin anyhow the rumble of a vehicle distracted his attention and he looked up to observe with curiosity a carriage full of strangers pass across the bridge

the strangers were all in black the angler had looked up too but immediately looked away again and turned to continue his hopeful progress toward the bend not until he had rounded the curve did he pause for rest beyond sight of the youthful isaac walton he waited out upon the bank produced a glass and applied it to his eyes turning it upon the willow grove on the borders of the blair estate the briefest of surveys satisfied him and he resumed his fishing and his waiting he was waiting for the funeral service of wilfrid blair notices in the boston and new york papers had formally designated the burial as private that invaluable aid lawyer adam bane who seemed to have his fingers on the pulse of all the county's activities had informed kent that telegraphic summons had gone out to a few near relatives and that the relatives together with a clergyman were expected that morning that is why chester kent a famous master of the art of fly fishing was whipping a dead stream for a patient hour longer his questing flies explored unresponsive nooks and corners at the end of that time he cited a figure coming from head Hedro house and dodged into a covered of sumac. The glass brought out clearly the features of Alexander Blair, set, stern, and pale.

Blair walked swiftly to the willow thicket where lay Captain Hogg and his unnamed victims, looked down into the raw fresh excavation and turned away. Another man, issuing from the house, joined him. From his gestures, Alexander Blair seemed to be explaining and directing. Finally, both returned to the house. Handling the whole business himself, commented Kent. I like his courage, anyway. Half an hour afterward, the little funeral procession moved from the house.

There was no hearse. Six men carried the coffin. They were all strangers to care. Kent, and their clothes gave obvious testimony of city origin. Half a dozen other men, and three women, heavily veiled, followed. Kent thrust his glass into his pocket and lifted his rod again. By the time the clergyman had begun the service, Kent was close to the obstructing fence. He could hear the faint, solemn murmur of the words.

Then came the lowering of the casket. the onlooker marked the black and silver sumptuousness of it and thought of the rough hemlock box that enclosed the anonymous body in anilacca churchyard and as his fly met the water he smiled a little grim rye smile it was over soon the black-clad group drifted away one member paused to glance with curiosity at the roughly clad angler making his way upstream for kent judged it wise to absent himself now foreseeing the advent of one keener-eyed than the mourners whose scrutiny he did not desire to tempt shortly gansett jim came to the grave hastily and carelessly he pitched in the earth tramped it down and returned carriages rolled to the door of hedgerow house and rolled away again carrying the mourners to their train not until then did kent snug up his tackle and take the road no sooner had he reached the hotel and changed into dry clothes than he made haste to the nook and thus addressed sedgwick now i'm your man for that tennis match kent i don't like your looks observed his friend remarking the scientist's troubled eyes don't you where are the implements of warfare here they are said the other producing rackets and balls you look to me done up

well the great game is always something of a gamble and being usually played for higher stakes than money is likely to get on one's nerves the great game repeated sedgwick inquiringly giving the words kent's own emphasis yes the greatest of all games you know the kipling verse don't you go stock the red deer or the heather ride follow the fox if you can but for pleasure and profit together afford me the hunting of man so we're manhunting then to-night said the artist quickly far from it replied kent with fervency let's drop the subject for the time being, won't you? I've had a morning none too pleasant to look back on, and I've got an evening coming none too pleasant to look forward to. Therefore I shall probably give you the licking of your life on the tennis court. As to the evening, began Sedgwick, while I'm—' Frank, cried Kent, there is a query trying to dislodge itself from your mind and get put into words. Don't let it.

Why? Because at one single question from you, I'll either bat you over the head with this racket or burst into sobs. It's a toss-up witch. He threw the implement in the air. Rough or smooth, he called. Kent played as he worked,

with concentration and tenacity, backing up technical skill. Against his dogged attack, Sedgwick's characteristically more brilliant game was unavailing, though the contest was not so uneven but that both were sweating hard as, at the conclusion of the third set, they sought a breathing space on the terraced bank back of the court.

That's certainly a good nerve sedative, said the artist, breathing hard, and not such rotten tennis for two aged relics of better days like ourselves. Not so bad by any means, means, agreed his opponent cheerfully. If you had stuck to lobbing, I think you'd have had me in the second set. Wonder how our spectator enjoyed it, he added, lowering his voice. What spectator? There's no one here but ourselves.

Oh, I think there is. Don't be abrupt about it, but just take a look at that lilac copse on the crest of the hill. can't see anyone there said sedgwick no more can i then what makes you think there's anyone the traditional little bird told me meaning specifically literally what i say there's the bird on that young willow you can see for yourself it's trying to impart some information i see a grasshopper sparrow in a state of a state of a small little bit of a state of a little bit of a state of a little bit of a little bit of a small one of a little bit of a place of a little bit of a little bit of a little bit of a little bit of the i see a grasshopper sparrow in a state of some nervousness but grasshopper sparrows are always fidgety this particular one has reason to be she has a nest in that lilac patch a few minutes ago she went toward it with a worm in her beak hastily dropped the worm and came out in a great state of mind hence i judge there is some intruder near her home any guess who it is why it might be gansett jim replied kent in a louder voice though it's rather stupid of him to pick out a bird inhabited bush as a hiding-place the lilac bush shook a little and gansett jim came forth he went to carr's junction said the half-breed curtly you found his trail asked kent

the other nodded this morning he said find anything else no i kill him if i get him he turned and vanished over the rise of ground back of the court now what does that mean demanded sedgwick in amazement that is gansett jim's apology for suspecting you explained kent he is our ally now and this is his first information what a marvelous thing the bull-dog strain in a race is nobody but an indian would have kept to an almost hopeless trail as he has done the trail of the real murderer cried sedgwick kent shook his head you're still obsessed with dubious evidence he remarked let me see your time-table having studied the schedules that the artist produced for him he nodded considerably boston it is then he said as i thought sedgwick i'm off for two or three days of travel if we get through this night without disaster end of chapter 14 recording by roger maline chapter 15 of the secret of lonesome cove by samuel hopkins adams this libervox recording is in the public domain recording by roger maline chapter 15 the turn of the game night came on in murk and

as the clouds gathered thicker chester kent's face took on a more and more satisfied expression sedgwick on the contrary gloomed sorely at the suspense nothing could be elicited from the director of operations who was for him in rather wild spirits the tennis match seemed to have sweated the meagrims out of him he regaled his shafing friend with anecdotes from his varied career the comedy of the dynamiter's hair the tragedy of the thrice fatal telephone message at the standard club the drama of the orchid hunt on weehawken heights from time to time he thrust a hand out of the window shortly after midnight there was a splatter of rain on the roof good said kent stretching elaborately couldn't be better life's a fine sport couldn't be worse i should think contradicted sedgwick depends on the point of view my boy no longer can my buoyant spirit support your determined melancholy without extraneous aid the time has come for action be thankful get on your coat sedgwick brightened at once right-oh he said get your lamps lighted and i'll be with you no lights ours is a deep dark desperate devilish dime novel design ending most likely in the clutch of some nighthawk constable for violation of the highway laws possibly we've got to chance it come into the garden maud chanted the scientist sedgwick started i thought we were going to motor somewhere what about the garden

about the garden why somewhere about the garden there must be i should guess certain implements which we need in our enterprise he executed a solemn dance step upon the floor and warbled oh a pickaxe and a spade a spade for and a shrouding sheet a sudden thought struck cold into the heart of sedgwick be sensible can't you he exclaimed what do you want with a pickaxe and spade my wants are few and small if you haven't a pick two spades will do in fact they'll be better i was merely sticking to the text of my hamlet his shoulders slumped his jaw slackened and as his figure warped into the pose of the grave-digger he weezed out the couplet again the cold thought froze around sedgwick's heart he visioned the wet soil of anilaca burying-ground heaped above a loose-hast pine box within which went forward the unthinkable process of earth reclaiming its own good god is it that he muttered the mummer straightened up in plain prose do you possess two spades he inquired speechless sedgwick went out into the dark presently returning with the tools. Kent took them out and disposed them in the car. Get in, he directed.

If we had to do this, Kent, said Sedgwick, shuddering in his seat, why haven't we done it before? The other turned on the power. You're on the wrong track as usual, he remarked. It couldn't be done before. Well, it can't be done now, cried the end. artist in sudden sharp excitement. It won't do. Stop the car, Kent. Kent's voice took an ominously deliberate measure. Listen, said he. I am going through with this. Now, tonight. If you wish to withdraw, that's enough, growled the artist. No man alive can say that to me. The car slowed up. I beg your pardon, Frank.

said Kent. We're both of us a little on edge tonight. This is no time for misunderstandings. What is on your mind? Just this. Anilaka burying ground is watched. Lawyer Bain said as much. Don't you remember?

He told us that the house next door is occupied by an old sleepless asthmatic who spends half her nights in her window overlooking the graves. The car shot forward again. Is that all? asked Kent. Isn't it enough? Hardly. We're not going within miles of Anilaka. Then our night's work is not...

Kent could feel his companion's revolt at the unuttered word and supplied it for him. Grave robbery? It is. Where? In a private... at burying ground on the Blair's estate. Wilfred Blair's grave?

When was the funeral? This morning, I was among those present, though I don't think my name will be mentioned in the papers. Why should you have been there? Oh, set it down to vulgar curiosity, said Kent. Probably you'd say the same if I asked you the motive for this present expedition. i suppose you fully appreciate the chance we are taking didn't i tell you that it was rather more than a life and death risk something cold touched sedgwick's hand in the darkness his fingers closed around a flask

no no dutch courage for me where is this place on sundayman's creek some fourteen miles from the nook as the motor-car flies fourteen miles repeated sedgwick musingly following a train of thought that suddenly glowed a beacon-light of hope and these blairs have some connection with a dead woman of the cove the woman who wore her jewels his fingers gripped and sank into kent's hard-fibored arm chet for the love of heaven tell me is she one of these blairs No nonsense, Sedgwick, returned the other sternly. You're to act, yes, and think, under orders till the night's job is done. There was silence for nearly half an hour while the car slipped ghost-like along the wet roadway. Presently it turned aside and stopped. Footwork now, said Kent.

Take the spades and follow. He himself. leading the way carried a coil of rope on his shoulders for what sedgwick reckoned to be half a mile they wallowed across soaked meadows until the whisper of rain upon water came to his ears keep close directed his guide and preceded him down a steep bank the stream was soon forded emerging on the farther side they scrambled up the other bank into a thicker darkness where sedgwick colliding with a gnarled tree trunk, stood lost and waiting. A tiny bar of light appeared. It swept across huddled and half-obliterated mounds, marked only by the carpet of Myrtle,

that faithful plant whose mission it is to garland the graves of the forsaken and the forgotten, shone whitely back from the headstone of the old slave trader, came to arrest upon a fresh garish ridge of earth, all pasty and yellow in the rain and abruptly died too dangerous to use the lantern murmured kent take the near end and dig delving even in the most favorable circumstances is a fairly stern test of wind and muscle in the pitch blackness under such nerve-thrilling conditions it was an ordeal both men fortunately were in hard training the heavy soil flew steadily and fast soon they were waist deep kent in a low voice bade his fellow toiler stop mustn't wear ourselves out at the start he said take five minutes rest at the end of three minutes sedgwick was groping for his spade i've got to go on chet he gasped he gasped he gasped the silence and idleness are too much for me it's just as well assented his commander the clouds are breaking worse luck and someone might possibly be up and about in the house go to it

this time there was no respite until with a thud which ran up his arm to his heart kent's iron struck upon wood both men stood frozen into attitudes of attention. No sound came from the house. Easy now, warned Kent after he judged it safe to continue. I thought that Jim dug deeper than that. Spade it out gently and feel for the handles. I've got one, whispered Sedgwick. Climb out then and pass me down the rope. As Sedgwick gained the earth's level, the moon, sailing from behind a cloud, poured a flood of radiance between the tree trunks. Kent's face, as he raised it from the grave, stretching out his hand for the cord,

was ghastly, but his lips smiled encouragement. All right, one minute now and we're safe. Safe, repeated the other. With that opened grave? I shall never feel safe again. I shall never feel safe again. From between the earthen walls, Kent's voice came, muffled. Safe as a church, he averred. From the minute that we have the coffin, take this end of the rope. Got it? Now this one. It's fast, for and aft. Here I come. With a leap he clambered out of the excavation. He took one end of the rope from Sedgwick's hand all ready to haul he inquired in matter-of-fact tones wait what are we going to do with this this thing demanded his co-laborer we can never get it to the car

a low chuckle sounded from the shrubbery back of them the resurrectionist stood stricken an owl whispered sedgwick at length no replied sedgwick at length no replied kent in the same tone then in full voice and with vivid urgency haul up came the heavy casket bumping and grating even through the rope sedgwick felt with horror the tumbling of the helpless sodden body within with a powerful effort kent swung his end upon the mound the lantern flashed by its gleam by its gleam Sedgwick saw Kent striving to force his spade edge under the coffin lid to pry it loose. The chuckle sounded again. That's enough, said a heavy voice with a suggestion of mirthful appreciation. Sheriff Len Schlager stepped from behind a tree. He held a revolver on Kent.

Sedgwick made a swift motion, and the muzzle swung accurately on him. steady frank warned kent anxiously i'm steady enough returned the other what a fool i was not to bring a gun oh no contradicted the scientist of what use is my gun we're in the light and he is in the shadow so you've got a gun on you eh remarked the sheriff his chuckled deepening i didn't say so? No, but you gave yourself away. Hands up, please, both of you. Four hands hands went up in the air. Kent's face in the light was very downcast, but from the far corner of his mouth came the faintest ghost of a whistled melody, all in a minor key. It died away in the night air, and the musician spoke in rapid French. Gagne.

Conlou d'Anre le coup de pi, Batel a tear. What's that gibberish? demanded Schlager. Very well, said Sedgwick quickly, in the tone of one who accepts instructions. I'll be still enough. Go ahead and do the talking.

Better both keep still, advised the deceived sheriff. Anything you say can be used against you at the trial. and the penalty for body snatching is twenty years in this state yes but what constitutes body snatching murmured kent you do i guess retorted the humorous sheriff steady with those hands which pocket please professor right-hand coat if you want my money answered the scientist sullenly nothing like that laughed the eye officer. Your gun will do at present. I haven't got any gun. I heard you say it. Remember, mine is pointed at your stomach.

Correct place, approved Kent, quietly shifting his weight to his left foot. It's the seat of human courage. Well, as Schlager tapped pocket after pocket without result, you can't say I didn't warn you. now frank with the word there was a sharp spat as the heel of kent's heavy boot flying up in the coup depeier of his own devising caught the sheriff full on the wrist breaking the bones and sending the revolver a spin into the darkness as instantly sedgwick struck swinging full-armed and schlager went down half stunned pin him frank ordered kent but sedgwick needed no directions now that resolute action was the order of the moment his elbow was already pressed into the sheriff's bull neck schlager lay still moaning a little

good work my boy approved kent who had retrieved the revolver who clubbed me groaned the fallen man i didn't see no third feller and what good's it gonna do you anyway there you are and there's the robbed grave exaggerated by assault on an officer of the law he added technically that is right too kent added sedgwick with shaking voice whatever we do i don't see but what we are disgraced and ruined unless suggested kent with a mild-toned malice we rid ourselves of the only witness to the affair a little gasp issued from the thick lips of len schlager but he spoke with courage and not without a certain dignity you got me he admitted quietly if it's killin why i guess it's as good as a way to go as any an officer in the discharge of his duty not so sure about the duty schlager said kent with a change of tone but your life is safe enough in any event pity you're such a grafter for you've got your decent points let em up sedgwick relieved of his assailant's weight schlager undertook to rise set his hand on the ground and collapsed with a groan too bad about that wrist said kent i'll take you back in my car to have it looked after as soon as we've finished here i suppose you know i'll have to arrest you just the same don't bluff retorted the other carelessly it wastes time steady here comes the rest of the party

across the moonlit lawn moved briskly the spare alert figure of the owner of hedgerow house his hand grasped a long-barreled pistol he made straight for the grove of graves within five yards of the willows he stopped because a voice from behind one of them had suggested to him that he do so i also am armed the voice added hesitancy flickered in mr blair's face for a brief moment then with set jaw he came on two men of courage to deal with in a single night that's all out of proportion commented the voice with a slight laugh Mr. Blair, I really should dislike shooting you. Who are you? demanded Mr. Blair. Chester Kent. What are you doing on my property at this hour? Digging.

Ah, it was hardly an exclamation. Rather, it was a contained commentary. Mr. Blair had noted the exhumed casket. You might better have taken my offer, he continued after a pause of some seconds. I think, sir, you have dug the grave of your own career. That remains to be seen. Schlegger, are you there?

Yes, Mr. Blair. They've broken my wrist and got my gun. Mr. Blair took that under consideration. It doesn't strike me that you are much of a man-hunter, he observed. served judicially. Who are they? Francis Sedgwick is the other, at your service, answered the owner of that name. An extraordinary convulsion of rage distorted the set features of the elderly man.

You, he cried, haven't you done enough without this? I would come on now if hell yawned for me. Stricen with amazement at the hatred in the tone, Sedgwick stood staring. But Kent stepped before the advancing man. This won't do, he said firmly. We can't any of us afford killing. I can, contradicted Mr. Blair. You would gain nothing by it. If one of us is killed, the other will finish the task. You know what I am here for, Mr. Blair. I propose to open that coffin and then go.

no said the master of hedgerow house and it was twenty years since his no had been over-born yes returned chester kent quietly mr blair's arm rose steady and slow with the inevitable motion of machinery if you shoot pointed out kent you will rouse the house is there no one there from whom you wish to conceal that coffin the arm rose higher until the muzzle of the pistol glared like a baleful lustreless eye into kent's face instead of making any counter motion with the sheriff's revolver the scientist turned on his heel walked to sedgwick and handed him the weapon i'm going to open the coffin frank he announced that pistol of mr blair's is a target arm it has only one shot true put in its owner but i can score one hundred and twenty with it at a hundred yards range if he should fire frank wing him and then whatever happens get that casket open that is the one thing you must do for me and yourself. But he may kill you, cried Sedgwick in an agony of apprehension.

He may, but I think he won't. Won't he? muttered the older man on an indrawn breath. I'd rather it was the other scoundrel, but either or both. Sedgwick stepped to within two paces of him. Blair, he said with a snarl. You so much as think. with that trigger finger and you're dead no no killing frank countermanded kent in his place you'd perhaps do as he is doing

don't take any chances mr blair besought the sheriff they're desperate characters look what they'd done to me there's a testimonial murmured kent as he picked up his spade for one who has always worked on the side of law and order. He worked the blade craftily under the lid and began to pry. The cover gave slightly. Mr. Blair's pistol sank to his side. I should have shot before warning you, he said bitterly. Violating graves is, I suppose, your idea of a lawful and orderly proceeding? The rending crackle of the hard heavy wood was his answer. answer. Kent stooped and struggled up, bearing a shapeless, heavy object in his arms. The object seemed to be swathed in sacking. Kent let it fall to the ground, where it lopped and lay. All right, said he, with a strong exhalation of relief. I knew it must be. And yet, well, one is never absolutely uncertainty. And if I'd been wrong, I think, Frank. we could profitably have used that gun on ourselves.

You can drop it now. Come over here. Courageous, though Sedgwick was, his nerves were of highly sensitive order. He shuddered back. I don't believe I can do it, Chet. You must, as a witness. Come, brace up. Setting the bullseye lantern down, Kent produced a pocket-knife. Sedgewick drew a long breath and walking over crouched, stealing his nerves against the revelation that should come when the cord should be cut and the swathlings reveal their contents.

If I keel over, don't let me tumble into the grave, he said simply, and choked the last word off from becoming a cry of horror, as he beheld his friend drive the knife blade to the hilt in the body and then whip it across, and downward with a long ripping draw under which the harsh cloth sang hideously open your eyes look look cried kent heartily a strong trickle of sand flowed out of the rent in the sack and spread upon the ground that is all said kent relief clamored within sedgwick for expression he began to laugh in short choking spasms. Quiet, warned Mr. Blair in a broken tone of appeal. You've found out the secret. God knows what you'll do with it, but there are innocent people in the house. I see a light stirring there now.

We, I must do what I may, to shelter them. A glimmer shone from the ground floor of one of the wings. Thither Mr. Blair ran. calling out as he went. When he returned, his face was like a mask. Now, said he, what is this matter? Blackmail? Kent's face withdrew, as it were, behind his inscrutable half-smile. Peace, if you will, said he, a truce at least. I should like to know just how much you know.

An offer. I will tell you whenever you are ready to tell me all that you know. I think we are mutually in need of each other. I wish you were at the bottom of that pit, retorted the other, grimly. You and your scoundrel of a friend with you. Thank you for myself, said Sedgwick. If you were twenty years younger, I would break every bone in your body for that steady frank put in kent judge no man by his speech who has been through what alexander blair has been through to-night mr blair he added you've refused my offer it is still open and as an extra i will undertake for mr sedgwick and myself that this night's affair shall be kept secret and now the next thing is to cover the evidence. Spades, Frank.

The two men took up their tools. I'll spell you, said Alexander Blair. While the sheriff, mourning softly over his fractured wrist, sat watching the house in case of alarm, the scientist, the painter, and the trust magnate, sweating amid the nameless graves, hurriedly reintered the sack of clean sand which bore the name of Wilfred Blair.

"'And now,' said Chester Kent, petting his blistered palms, as the last shovelful of dirt was tamped down, "'I'll take you back with me, Mr. Sheriff, to Sedgwick's place, and do the best I can for you till the morning. About six o'clock we'll find you unconscious below the cliffs where you fell in the darkness.

"'Eh?' Despite his pain, the sheriff grinned. I guess that's as good as the next lie, he acquiesced. You fight fair, Professor. Then answer me a fair question. What were you doing at Hedgerow House tonight? Why, you see, drawled the official, I saw you fish in that stream, and had come to my mind that you was casting around for more than trout that wasn't there.

But I didn't hardly think you'd come so soon, and I was asleep when the noise of the spade on the coffin woke me. Bad work and clumsy, commented Kent with a scowl. Come along. My car will carry three. Sedgwick can sit on the floor. Good night, Mr. Blair. All aboard, Frank. There was no answer. What became of Sedgwick? demanded Kent.

He was here half a minute ago, I'll swear to that, muttered the sheriff. Kent stared anxiously about him. Frank, Frank, he called half under his breath. Not too loud, besought Alexander Blair. The clouds closed over the moon. Somewhere in the open, a twig crackled. Sedgwick had disappeared. End of Chapter 15.

Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 16 of The Secret of Lonesome Cove by Samuel Hopkins Adams. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 16. The Meeting Hope had surged up, sudden and fierce in Sedgwick's heart, at the gleam of the candle in Hedrow House. He was ready for any venture after the swift climax of the night, and his hope hardened into determination.

Faithfully he had taken Kent's orders. But now the enterprise was concluded, to what final purpose he could not guess. He was his own man again, and perhaps, Behind that gleam from the somber house, waited the woman, his own woman. Silently he laid his revolver beside his spade and slipped into the shadows. He heard Kent's impatient query.

He saw him as he picked up the relinquished weapon and examined it, and, estimating the temper of his friend, was sure that the scientist would not stop to search for him. In this he was right. taking the sheriff by the arm kent guided him through the creek and into the darkness beyond mr blair walking with heavy steps and fallen head made his way back to the house sedgwick heard the door close behind him a light shone for a time in the second story it disappeared with infinite caution sedgwick made the detour gained the rear of the house and skirting the north wing stepped forth in the bright moonlight the prescience of passion throbbing wildly in his breast she sat at the window head high to him bowered in roses

her face was turned slightly away her long fine hands lay inert on the sill her face purity itself in the pure moonlight seemed dimmed with weariness and strain a flower glowing through a mist with a shock of remembrance that was almost grotesque sedgwick realized that he had no name by which to call her so he called her by the name that is love's own she did not change her posture but her lips parted her lids drooped and quivered she was as one in a lovely dream he stepped toward her and spoke again you she cried and her voice breaking from a whisper into a thrill of pure music you there was in the one syllable so much of terror that his heart shivered so much of welcome that his heart shivered so much of welcome that his heart leaped, so much of joy that his heart sang. Bending, he pressed his lips on her hands, and felt them tremble beneath his kiss. They were withdrawn and fluttered for the briefest moment at his temples. Then she spoke hurriedly and softly,

You must go, at once, at once! When I have just found you? If you have any care for me, from me from my. my happiness, for my good name, go away from this house of dread." "'What?' said Sedgwick, sharply. "'Of dread? What do you do here, then?' "'Suffer,' said she, then bitter lips. "'No, no, I didn't mean it. It is only that the mystery of it, I am unstrung and weak.

Tomorrow all will be all right. Only go!' i will said sedgwick firmly and you shall go with me i where he caught her hand again and held it to his heart to see the gold air and the silver fade and the last bird fly into the last light he whispered don't she begged not that it brings back that week too poignantly oh my dear please please please go. Listen, he said, heart of my heart. I don't know what curse hangs over this house. But this I do know,

that I cannot leave you here. Come with me now. I will find some place for you tonight, and tomorrow we will be married. With a sharp movement, she shrank back from him. Married! Tomorrow!

The words seem to choke her. don't you know who i am fear chilled his mounting blood as kent's analysis of the probabilities came back to him if you are married already he said unsteadily it-it would be better for me that kent had let him shoot who she cried what has been passing here you have been in danger what does it matter he returned what does anything matter but hark she broke in a spasm of terror contracting her face footsteps sounded within there was the noise of a door opening and closing around the turn of the wing alexander blair stepped into view his pistol was still in his hand still here sir he inquired with an effect of murderous courtesy you add spy to your other practices then?" He took a step forward and saw the girl. "'My God!

Marjorie!' he cried. Sedgwick turned white at the cry, but faced the older man steadily. "'I fear, sir,' he said, that I have made a terrible mistake. The blame is wholly mine. I beg you to believe that I came here wholly without the knowledge of your wife. "'Of whom?' exclaimed Blair. And in the same moment, the girl cried out, "'Oh, no, no, not that!'

"'Not?' exclaimed Sedgwick. "'Then—' "'Marjorie,' interrupted Mr. Blair. "'Do you know this man?' "'Yes,' she said quietly. "'Since when?' "'Since two weeks.' "'And he has come.

come here before?" No. Then why do I find him here with you tonight, this night of all nights?" He is not here with me," said she, flushing. I came from—from where you saw me," began Sedgwick, on a reckless impulse. Believe me, sir. One moment. Marjorie, I think you had best go to your room."

The girl softly softly. The girl's soft lips straightened into a line of inflexibility. "'I wish to speak to Mr. Sedgwick,' she said. "'Speak, then, and quickly.' "'No, I wish to speak to him alone. There is an explanation which I owe him.' "'And there is one which he owes you,' retorted Blair. As he seems to have been too cowardly to give it,

I will supply his deficiencies. in order that there may be no misunderstanding let me present mr francis sedgwick the murderer a low cry the most desolate the most stricken sound that sedgwick had ever heard from human lips trembled on the air before he could gather his senses to retort and deny she had drawn herself to her feet and the rose-bowered window framed only emptiness sedgwick whirled upon the other man of course he said with deceptive calmness you know that you lie i know that i speak truth retorted mr blair with so profound a conviction that the other was shaken is it possible that you really believe it he exclaimed so possible that but for the scandal i would do what i can not to involve the law to do and exact life for life and to crown all i find you with my son's wife your son's wife the cry burst from sedgwick's lips in the dead of night at a rendezvous concluded blanche "'That is a lie,' said Sedgwick, very low, "'for which I shall kill you if you dare repeat it,

"'even to your own thoughts. "'It was no rendezvous. "'Is your mind so vicious that you can't believe in innocence? "'Stop and think. "'How could it have been a rendezvous "'when I came here, as you know, for another purpose?' "'That is true,' said the other, thoughtfully. that still remains to be explained by you returned the artist you speak of your son's wife to carry out the farce of the sham burial shouldn't you have said his widow

the widow of a day as you well know answered mr blair bitterly as i do not know at all but i think i begin to see light the rube rose topazes on the dead woman's neck, her topazes. That helps to clear it up. The dead woman was some past light of love of Wilfred Blairs. She came here either to reassert her sway over him or to blackmail him. He gave her his wife's jewels. Then he followed her to the cliffs and killed her, perhaps in a drunken frenzy. And you, Mr. Alexander Blair, to save your son, have concealed him somewhere, bribed the sheriff and the medical officer, contrived this false death and burial, and are now turning suspicion on a man you know to be innocent further to fortify your position. But what damnable lie have you told

her? During this exposition, Alexander Blair's face was a study in changing emotions. At the close his thin lips curled in the suggestion of a sardonic grin. I leave you to the company of your theory, sir, said he, and the door closed sharply after him. Three hours later, wet and bedraggled, but with a fire at his heart, the nightfarer came to his home and roused Kent from slumber on the studio couch. "'And where have you been?' demanded the third. scientist. She was in the house. I've seen her. Exactly what I wish to prevent. I don't think you've done yourself any good. Any good, groaned his friend. She left me believing that I am the

murderer of the unknown woman. Indeed, you've done worse even than I had feared. Tell me. In brief outline, Sedgwin. told of the Moonlight interview. Kent gripped at his earlobe and for a time sought silently to draw clarification of ideas from it. "'Do you know,' he said at length, "'I wouldn't wonder if Blair really thought you the murderer.' "'I would,' declared Sedgwick savagely. He knows who murdered that woman. It was his own son, whom he pretended to bury for a blind. and the artist proceeded to outline eagerly his newly developed idea that's an interesting theory said chester kent slowly a very interesting and ingenious theory

i'll admit to you now that something of the sort occurred to my mind early in the development of the mystery but i forsook it because of one fact that rather mitigates against its probability what is that the fact replied kent with a slow smile that wilfrid blair was dead before his father ever learned of the tragedy of lonesome cove end of chapter sixteen recording by roger maline chapter seventeen of the secret of lonesome cove by samuel hopkins adams this librovoc's recording is in the public domain recording by roger maline chapter seventeen chance sits in suit-case at his side chester kent stood in the platform of the martindale center station waiting for the morning train to boston before him paced sedgwick with a face of storm this is something i must do for myself the artist declared with that peculiar flatness of obstinacy which goes with an assertion repeatedly made not you nor any other man can do it for me not you nor any other man should attempt it at all now retorted the scientist that's the view of the pedant cried Sedgwick. What do you know of love? Nothing, except as a force obstructive to reason. But Chet, I must see her again, pleaded Sedgwick. I must.

Exhibit that tact and delicacy which you displayed at your last meeting, broke in Kent curtly. Asking a woman to marry you on the day of her husband's burial? It wasn't her husband's burial. she supposed it was sedgwick checked his nervous pacing do you think so you believe she wasn't a party to that ghastly fraud certainly not she attended the funeral ceremony in good faith in my belief the real circumstances of blair's death are as unknown to her as they are to-to you assuming always that he is dead your confidence being so sound it must be based on something how did he come to his death if i knew that i shouldn't be going to boston to consult an astrologer have you still got astrology on the brain hopelessly smiled kent luck go with you and i yes and you queried kent as the other hesitated

i am going back to hedgerow house concluded the artist obstinately if i were employed to work on this case observed kent dispassionately if it were a mere commission undertaken on money terms i should throw it up right here and now he took a long strong pull at the extension end of his ear and whistled a bar or two of pagliacci do you know room five seventy one at the airy he asked abruptly no yes i do too that's your temple of white silence isn't it correct humor me thus far walk up to the hotel give this card to the clerk get the key go to that room at once. Lie down on your back with your eyes open and think for one hour by the watch. If at the end of that time, you still believe you're right, go ahead.

Will you do it? Agreed. It's a bargain. But it won't change my mind. A bargain's a bargain. It won't need to, said Kent coolly. By that time, if I have any understanding of Mr. Alexander Blair, he will have put your lady of mystery on the morning train which leaves for Boston by one of the other roads. If not, why, you may take

your chance. "'Trict,' said Sedgwick. "'Well, I owe you too much to go back in my agreement. But see here, Kent. She's going to Boston. You're going to Boston. You can easily find out where the Blairs live. Go to her for me and find— Heaven forbid, cried Kent piously. Why?

Haven't I told you that I am a timid creature, and especially about females? Over seventy I like them, and under seven I love them. Between, I shun them. I'll do anything for you but that, my boy, he concluded as the train came rumbling in. then i shall have to follow and look her up myself returned his friend i'll wire you before i come good-bye

by the way said kent leaning out from the car step upon which he had swung himself don't be disturbed if you miss that drawing which we bought from elder dennet at a bargain miss it why where is it in my suit-case What's it doing there? Why, you see, if it's a sketch for a finished portrait by Elliot, as I suspect, some of the art people in Boston might recognize it. Good luck! I hope not to see you soon, too soon, that is. Chance and a deranged railway schedule conspired against the peace of mind of the shy in shrinking Kent.

Outside of Boston a few miles is a junction. and a crossing. Here Kent's train was held up by some minor accident. Here, too, the train from the north on the other road stopped for orders. Thus it was that Kent, stepping out to take the air, found himself looking into an open Pullman window at a woman's face framed in deepest black, a young face, but saddened and weary, whose unforgettable appeal of wistfulness had looked out upon him from the canvas in Sedgwick's studio. Mrs. Blair! For once in his life, Chester Kent's controlled tongue had broken the leash.

Immediately he would have given a considerable sum of money to recall his impulsive exclamation. He was in an agony of shyness, but it was too late. The girlish face turned. The composed eyes scanned a serious-looking man. of indeterminate age, clad in the cool elegance of light gray, and obviously harassed by some catastrophic embarrassment. "'I beg pardon,' stuttered the man. "'Are you, Mr. Blair?

I'm Mrs. Kent.' At this astonishing announcement, amusement gleamed in the woman's eyes, and gave a delicate up-twist to the corners of the soft mouth. I don't recognize you in your present attire, Mrs. Kent, she murmured. No, of course not. I meant to say, that is, you know, Kent gathered his forces, resolved desperately to see it through now. I'm Mrs. Blair, and I suppose you're Mr. Kent. The soft music of her laughter made Kent savage.

Damn, he muttered under his breath, and then went direct to the point. There are things I want to speak to you about. I wish to get on your car. Certainly not, replied she, decisively. I do not know you. I am a friend of Francis Sedgwick's. The warm blood flushed her cheeks rose color and died away. Her lips quivered. So much of mute helpless misery did her face show now that Kent's embarrassment vanished.

"'Try to believe me,' he said earnestly, "'when I tell you that I wish only to save both of you misunderstanding and suffering.' "'Needless misunderstanding and suffering,' he added. "'It is too late,' she said hopelessly. "'Forgive me, but that is foolish. Your mind has been led astray. Sedgwick is absolutely blameless. Please, she begged and a half-whisper.

I can't listen. I mustn't listen. I have tried to make myself believe that he acted in self-defense. But even so, don't you see, it must stand forever between us? Now what cock and bull's story has Alexander Blair told her, kent demanded of his mind how much does she know or how little the jar and forward lurch of the car before him brought him out of his reverie can i see you in boston he asked hurriedly she shook her head not now i can see no one and remember i do not even know you kent cast about rapidly in his mind as he walked along with the car for someone who might be a common acquaintance. He mentioned the name of a very great psychologist at Harvard.

Do you know him? he asked. Yes, he is my mother's half-brother. And my valued friend, he cried. May I get him to bring me? He was almost running now beside the window. Yes, she assented, if you insist. but I will hear no word of of your friend." "'I understand,' agreed, called Kent.

"'Tomorrow morning, then.' And he walked, whistling a melancholious theme to the platform. Another whistle answered his. It was that of his train, disappearing around the curve a mile down the track. Belated but elated, Kent. after some inquiries reached his destination by an intricate exchange of trolley lines and went direct to cambridge he found his friend one of the finest and profoundest philosophers of his time sitting in a closed house over a game of that form of solitaire appropriately denominated idiot's delight very soothing to the mind murmured the professor after welcoming his guest so many matters turn out wrong in this world that one finds relief in a problem which usually turns out right i have a little problem of my own which may or may not turn out right said kent and i want your help

it is long since you have done me the honor to consult me said the old scholar smiling not indeed since the insistence of the cabinet member who was obsessed with the maniacal hatred of apples without you i should never have so much as approached the solution of mr caroline's recall returned kent but this present affair calls for aid not advice either is equally at your service replied the philosopher courteously kent outlined the case to him you see he said there is an obvious connection between the unknown body on the beach and the blair tragedy poor marjorie exclaimed the old man for her marriage i blame myself largely when marjorie dorrance was left an orphan i was her nearest relative of an age in position such as to constitute a moral claim of guardianship she visited here when she was eighteen came like a flood of sunlight into this house a beautiful vivid girl half child half woman with a beautiful vivid girl half-woman with a beautiful beautiful Vivid Mind. For her mother's sake, if not for her own, I should have watched over her, and warded her against the danger of an advantageous marriage, such as is always imminent in the set which she entered. Ah, well, I live among the dust and cobwebs of my own dim interests, and when

I returned from one of my journeys into the past, I found that Marjorie was engaged to that wretched creature. Now he is dead. Let be. I have seen little of her in late years. God grant the life with him is not crushed out of her all the sweetness and happiness. While I am no judge of women, said Kent judiciously, I should venture to aver that it hasn't. But about calling on her, my being a stranger, you see, and in the first days of her widowhood, social conventions, and that sort of thing. The old scholar made a sweeping gesture of surprising swiftness, suggesting incongruously the possession of great muscular power.

The cards flew far and wide from the stand. Mist and moonshine, my dear sir. Moonshine and mist. Marjorie is one of those rare human beings who deal honestly with themselves. Her husband's death can be nothing but a woman. welcome release. She feels no grief. She will pretend to none, not even to herself. I will take you to her tomorrow. Blair ill-treated her? asked Kent. Oh, ill-treatment. That is a wide term. I believe that the

poor weakling did his best to keep faith and honor, but ropes of mud are strong. Those with which he had bound himself drew him resistlessly back to the sewers. Hers was but a marriage of glamour at best, and at the first scent of foulness in her nostrils, it became only a marriage of law. Society does her the justice to believe her faithful to him, and praises the devotion with which, since his breakdown and retirement,

she has given up her world to devote herself to his care. essentially the girl is puritan in her concepts of duty does she know anything of the manner of blair's death no one knows much of it from what i understand unless it be alexander blair one of the family who went to hedgerow house for the funeral called upon me as a courtesy due to mrs blair's nearest relative alexander blair he said was reticent his dread of publicity is notorious but from what he the relative could ascertain the affair was substantially this on the evening before the woman's body was found wilfrid blair who had been exhibiting symptoms of melancholia left the house secretly no one saw him go but about the time that he left the unknown woman was seen in the vicinity of hedgerow house by whom by a half-breed indian a devoted servant of the family who is practically young blair's body servant gansett jim that helps to explain whether or not wilfrid blair had arranged a meeting with this woman is not known as you know she was found with her skull crushed on the sea beach blair was afterward discovered by his half-breed servant mortally injured and was brought home to die that is alexander blair's version of the tragedy as i understand it well it's ingenious

but untrue in one vital particular at least are you at liberty to state what it is wilfrid blair never was brought home ah in any case alexander blair is striving to conceal some scandal the nature of which i have no wish to guess by the way i should have added that he suspects a third person an artist resident not far from his place of being his son's assailant francis sedgwick you know the man It is on his behalf that I am acting, replied Kent. My informant, however, inclines to the belief that Alexander Blair is wrong, that Wilfred Blair killed the woman and then inflicted mortal wounds upon himself. Perhaps you would better see my informant for yourself. Unnecessary, thank you.

Mr. Blair is not telling quite all that he knows. Nevertheless, the theory which he propounds as to his son's assailant is natural enough, from his point of view. Although, added Kent thoughtfully, it will be most unfortunate if it leads him to distrust Mrs. Blair. Marjorie, am I to infer that her good name is involved? demanded the old man. Hardly her good name. Mr. Blair believes, if I correctly follow his mental processes, that Francis Sedgwick met his son in the night of the tragedy, by chance or otherwise, and that in the encounter which he believes followed, Wilfred Blair was killed. Unfortunately, some color of motive is lent to this by the

fact that Sedgwick had fallen desperately in love with Mrs. Blair. Impossible! Marjorie is not the woman to permit such a thing, without blame to her, or indeed to either of them. She also believes now that Sedgwick killed her husband. And she was interested in your friend? asked the old scholar slowly. I fear, that is, I trust so. You trust so? With this horror standing between them? it must be cleared away said kent earnestly circumstantial evidence is against sedgwick but i give you my word sir it is wholly impossible that he should have killed your niece's husband

to doubt your certainty would be crassly stupid and you are hopeful of clearing up the circumstances there i want your aid the night of the tragedy a person wearing a dark garment embroidered with silver stars was on Hockhill Heights. I have reason to believe that this person came there to meet someone from the Blair Place. Also, that he can tell me, if I can find him, the facts which I lack to fill out my theory. It is to run him down that I have come to Boston. A man wearing a dark garment embroidered with silver stars, said the philosopher, surely a strange garb in this age of sartorial orthodoxy not for an astrologer ah an astrologer and you think he came from boston i think said chester kent drawing some newspaper clippings from his pocket that somewhere among these advertisements taken from the newspapers which are subscribed for at hedgerow house he is to be found. There, I ought to be able to help. Through my association with the occult society,

I have investigated many of these gentry, great rascals, most of them. Whom would you consider the most able of the lot? The old man set a finger on one of the clippings. Preston Jacks, said he, is the shrewdest of them all. Sometimes, I have thought that he had dim flashes of real clairvoyance. Be that as it may, he has a surprising clientele of which he makes the most, for he is a master hand at cousining women out of their money. More than once he has been in the courts. Probably he is my man.

Anyway, I shall visit him first, and if I find that his office was closed on July 5th, it was and for a day or two thereafter as i chanced to know because one of the occult society's secret agents was to have visited him and could not get an appointment good i shall see you then to-morrow sir clarity of vision go with you amid your riddles said his host with the smile shuffling the cards which kent had gathered up for him here is my all-sufficient riddle watch me now how i meet and vanquish the demon mischance he turned up a card ah said he with profound satisfaction the seven of spades my luck runs in sevens end of chapter seventeen recording by roger chapter eighteen of the secret of lonesome cove by samuel hopkins adams this libervox recording is in the public domain recording by roger maline chapter eighteen the master of stars ten o'clock of the following morning found the harvard professor formally presenting his friend chester kent to mrs wilfrid blair at the house of the cousin with whom she was staying my dear said the old gentleman you may trust professor kent's judgment and insight as implicitly as his honor i can give no stronger recommendation and will now take my leave

kent resisted successfully a wild and fearful desire to set a restraining hold upon the disappearing coat tails for embarrassment had again engulfed the scientist's soul he seized himself by the lobe of the ear with that grip which drowning men reserved for straws and to continue the comparison the ear sank with him beneath the waves of confusion mrs blair's first words did not greatly help him have you an earache professor kent she inquired maliciously yes no it's a habit muttered the collar releasing his hold and his hold and he inquired maliciously yes no it's a habit muttered the caller releasing his hold and and immediately resuming it. Isn't it very painful? Of course it is, said he testily, when I forget to let go in time, as I frequently do.

As you are doing now, she suggested. Kent bestowed a final yank upon the dried fount of inspiration and gave it up as hopeless. I don't know exactly how to begin, he complained. Then I will help you, said she, becoming suddenly grave. You are here to speak to me of some topic, wholly distinct from one forbidden phase.

Exactly. You make it difficult for me by that restriction. And I rather like difficulties, in reason. Let me see. Have you lost any jewels lately, Mrs. Blair? The girl widow started. Yes, how did you know? you have made no complaint or publish no advertisements for them i have kept it absolutely secret father blair insisted that i should do so they were valuable these jewels

the rings were intrinsically but what i most valued was the necklace of rose topazes they were the grovener topazes a family relic not my own family my husband's mother left them to me they came down to her from her grandmother camilla grovener you speak that name as if it should be recognizable by me perhaps it would if you were a new englander she was rather a famous person in her time c l elliot painted her one of his finest portraits i believe and-and she was remarkable in other respects would you mind being more specific it isn't mere curiosity on my part why my uncle could have told you more he knows all about the groveners my own own my own my uncle could have told you more he knows all about the groveners my My own knowledge of Camilla Groverner is merely family tradition. She was a woman of great force of character and great personal attraction, I believe, though she was not exactly beautiful. When she was still under thirty she became the leader of a band of mystics and star-worshippers.

I believe that she became infatuated with one of them a young German, and that there was an elopement by water. I remember at least, her body washed ashore on the coast, not very far from Hedgerow house. At Lonesome Cove? Yes, the very name of it chills me. For my husband it had an uncanny fascination. He used to talk to me about the place. He even wanted to build there, but Mr. Alexander Blair wouldn't listen to it.

Would you know the face of Camilla Grovener? Of course. The Elliott portrait hangs in the library at Hedgerow House. Kent took from under his coat the drawing purchased from Elder Dennett. That is the same, said Mrs. Blair unhesitatingly. It isn't quite the same pose as the finished portrait, and it lacks the earring which is in the portrait. But I should say it is surely Elliot's work. Couldn't it be a preliminary sketch for her portrait?

probably that is what it is can you tell me where it came from from between the pages of an old book it must have been carelessly thrown aside the book has just been sold at an auction in martindale center and the drawing found by a man who didn't appreciate what it was i bought it from him that's rather wonderful isn't it there are more wonders to come tell me how your necklace was lost please i don't know on the afternoon of july fifth i left hedgerow house rather hurriedly my maid whom i trust implicitly was to follow with my trunks including my jewel case she arrived a day later with part of the jewels missing and a note from father blair saying that there had been a robbery, but that I was to say nothing of it. July 5th, remarked Kent, with his lids dropped over the keen gaze of his eyes. It was the following morning that the unknown body was found on the beach near Mr. Near the Nook.

Her face showed no comprehension. I have heard nothing of any body, she replied. Did none of the talk come to your ears of a strange woman? woman found at Lonesome Cove? No. Wait, though. After the funeral, one of the cousins began to speak of a mystery, and Mr. Blair shut him off.

Your necklace was taken from that body. Her eyes grew wide. Was she the thief? She asked eagerly. The person who took the necklace from the body is the one for whom I am searching. Now, Mrs. Blair, will you tell me, in a word, how your husband met his death? Her gaze did not falter from his, but a look of suffering came into her eyes, and the hands in her lap closed and opened and closed again.

Perhaps I can save you by putting it in another form. Your father-in-law gave you to understand, did he not, that Wilfred Blair met and quarreled with a certain person and was killed in the encounter which followed? How shall I ever free myself from the consciousness of my own part in it? She shuddered. Don't, don't speak of it again. I can't bear it. You won't have to, very long, Kent assured her.

Let us get back to the jewels. You would be willing to make a considerable sacrifice to recover them? Anything. perhaps you've heard something of this man drawing a newspaper page from his pocket kent indicated an advertisement outlined in blue pencil it was elaborately displayed as follows your fate is written in the heavens consult the star master past present and future are open books to his mystic game be guided a right in business love and health thousands to whom he has pointed out the way of the stars. Bless him for his aid. Consultation by appointment. Preston Jacks, Sweet 77 Mystic Block, Ten Royal Street. Mrs. Blair glanced at the announcement. Some of my friends have been to him, she said. For a time he was rather a fad.

But you haven't ever consulted him yourself? No, indeed. That is well. I want you to go there with me today. To that, charlatan? Why, Professor Kent, I thought you were a scientific man. Translate science down to its simplest terms in Saxon English, said Kent. It would be knowing, I suppose. Exactly. When I think a man... knows something which i wish to know but do not know i try to possess myself of his knowledge whether he is a microscopist astrologer or tinsmith to that extent i am a scientist

and you expect the stars to tell us something about my lost topazes they seem to have had some influence on the career of the original owner said kent with his half smile and one star has already lighted up the beginning of the trail for me i can't understand your motives she said but i know that i can trust you when do you wish me to go i have an appointment for us at high noon as the clock struck twelve kent and mrs blair passed from the broad noonday glare of the street into the tempered darkness of a strange apartment it was hung about with black cloths and lighted by the effulgence of an artificial half-moon and several planets contrived kent conjectured of eisenglass set into the fabric with arc lights behind them a soft-footed servitor clad throughout in black appeared from nowhere provided chairs set a pitcher of water beside them and vanished silently a faint heavy but not unpleasant odor as of incense hovered in the air. The moon waxed slowly in brightness, illumining the two figures. Very well fixed up, whispered Kent to his companion. The astrologer is now looking us over. In fact, at that moment, a contemplating and estimating eye was fixed upon them from a dead star

in the farther wall. The eye beheld a girl whose delicate but vivid loveliness was unduelled, dimmed by the grisly trappings of mourning which a christian civilization has borrowed from barbarism to belie its own christianity withal rest at a moment and passed with more of scrutiny to her companion preston jacks did not as a rule receive more than one client at a time police witnesses travel in pairs and the star master was of a suspicious nature only an extraordinary fee and the cultured languor of the voice which requested the appointment over the telephone had induced him to relax his rule now however his uneasiness was appeased he beheld a gentleman clad in such a peril as never police spy nor investigating agent war a rather puzzling swellness the term is called from mr jack's envious thoughts since it appeared to be individual without being in any particular conspicuous. Mr. Jacks, an adept in extracting information, wondered if he could persuade the visitor to disclose his tailor to the stars,

for he was himself in light vacational moments at Atlantic City and in the Waldorf Astoria something of a dresser. One point, however, the connoisseurship of the Starmaster could hardly approve. The monocle displayed in his visitor's left eye, though it was reassuring to his professional judgment. The visitor was obviously light. Quitting his peephole, the Starmaster pressed a button. Strains of music, soft and sourseless, filled the air

from a phonograph muffled in rugs. The moon glow paled a little. There was a soft rustle and fluctuation of water. wall draperies in the apartment. The light waxed. The starmaster stood before his visitors. They beheld a man of undistinguished size and form, eeked out by a splendid pomposity of manner. To this his garb contributed. All the signs of the zodiac had lent magnificence to the long, black, loose robe with gaping sleeves which he wore. Mrs. Blair noted with vague interest that it was all hand-embroidered.

Pale and hard the face rose from this somber and gorgeous appareling. It was a remarkable face, small, calm, and compacted of muscles. Muscles plumped out the broad cheeks. Muscles curved about the jaws. Muscles worked delicately along the club of a nose. The chin was done. just one live twitching muscle even the faint screwed lines at the eye corners suggested muscle and withal there lurked in the countenance a suggestion of ingenuousness the man looked like a bland and formidable baby he looked even more like a puma with a rhythmical motion of arms and hands he came forward performed a spreading bow of welcome

and drew back putting his hands to his brow as if in concentration of thought marjorie blair felt an unholy desire to laugh she glanced at professor kent and to her surprise found him exhibiting every evidence of discomposure he fidgeted fanned himself with his hat mopped his brow and palpably flinched under the solemn regard of the mage stupid of me he muttered in apology gets on one's nerves you know awesome and all that sort of thing fussing with the stars preston jacks bestowed a patronizing smile upon his visitor protectiveness benign and assured radiated from him fear nothing said he the star forces respond to the master will of him who comprehends them madam the date year month and day of your birth if you please march fifteenth eighteen eighty nine replied mrs blair propelled by an unseen force a celestial globe mounted on a nickel standard rolled forth the starmaster spun it with a practised hand slowly and more slowly it turned until as it came to a stop a ray of light mysteriously appearing, focused on a constellation. "'Yonder is your star,' declared the astrologist.

"'See how the oral light seeks it.' "'Oh, I say,' murmured he of the monocle. "' Weird, you know. Quite gets on one's nerves. "'Quite!' "'Sh,' reproved Preston Jacks. "'Silence is the fitting medium of the... the higher stellar mysteries. Madam, your life is a pathway between happiness and grief. Loss, like a speeding comet, has crossed it here. Happiness, like the soft moon glow,

has beamed upon it, and will beam again in fuller effulgence. With beautifully modulated intonations he proceeded, while one of his visitors regarded him with awestruck reverence, and the other waited with patience, but unimpressed, so the orator felt, by his gifts. His voice sank by deep-toned gradations into silence. The ray winked out. Then the woman spoke. Is it possible for your stars to guide me to an object which I have lost?

Nothing is hidden from the stars, declared their master. Their radiance shines not all, alone upon the broad expanses of existence, but also into the smaller crevices of life. You seek jewels, madam? Kent had let this much out, as if by accident, in the morning's conversation. Yes. Your birthstone is the bloodstone. Unhappy indeed would be the omen if you lost one of those gems. He was fishing and came forward toward her. almost brushing Kent.

But I say, cried Kent in apparently uncontrollable agitation, did your stars tell you that she had lost some jewelry? Tell me, is that how you knew? In his eagerness he caught at the astrologer's arm, the right one, and his long fingers, gathered in the ample folds of the gown, pressed nervously upon the wrist. Preston Jacks winced away. All the excited vapidity passed from Kent's speech at once.

The jewels which this lady has lost, he said very quietly, are a set of unique rose topazes. I thought, in fact, I felt that you could, with or without the aid of your stars, help her to recover them. Blackness, instant and impenetrable, was the answer to this. There was a subdued flood. sound of drapery, as if someone were brushing along the wall. Kent raised his voice,

the merest trifle. Unless you wish to be arrested, I advise you not to leave this place, not by either exit. Arrested on what charge? came half-chokingly out of the darkness. Thief. I didn't take them. Murder, then. my god so abject was the terror and misery in the cry that kent felt sorry for the wretch then with a certain dogged bitterness i don't care what you know i didn't kill her that is very likely true replied kent soothingly but it is what i must know in detail find your foot lever and turn on the light the two visitors could hear him grope heavily as the light flashed on they saw with a shock that he was on all fours it was as if kent's word had felled him instantly he was up however and faced around upon marjorie blair who was she he demanded your sister mrs blair was very pale but her eyes were steady and her voice under control as she answered i do not know you must know don't torture me i'm a rat and a trap

i'm sorry she said gently that i can't help you but i do not know you then the starmaster turned upon kent what am i up against how did you find me thrusting his hand in his pocket the scientist brought out a little patch of black cloth with a single star skilfully embroidered on it wild blackberry has long thorned thorns and sharp, he said. You left this tatter on Hock Hill Cliffs. At the name, the man's chin muscle throbbed with his effort to hold his teeth steady against chattering. At first, I suspected an army officer. When I found that the cloth was below grade, the only other starred profession I could

think of was astrology. As the highest class astrologer now advertising, you seemed likely to be the man. When I found first that you were out of town on July 5th, and just now, by a somewhat rough experiment, that you had suffered a wound of the right wrist, I was certain. What do you want? A fair exchange.

My name is Chester Kent. The Starmaster's chin worked convulsively. The Kent that broke up the coercephalcée. coordinated spiritism circle? Yes. It's ill bargaining with the devil, observed Preston Jack's grimly. What's the exchange?

I do not believe that you are guilty of murder. Tell me the whole story, plainly and straight, and I'll clear you insofar as I can believe you innocent. For the first time, the seer's chin was at peace. You want me to begin with this lady's necklace? Why, yes, but after that, begin at the beginning. The topazes are cast under a rock near the cliff. I couldn't direct you, but I could show you.

In time you shall. One moment. As you realize you are under presumption of murder. Do you know the identity of the victim? of astrea that's all i know about her i don't even know her last name why estraya that's the way she signed herself she seemed to think i knew all about her without being told and you played up to that belief well of course i did yes you naturally would but if you had no name to write to how could you answer the letters? Through personal advertisements. She had made out a code. She was a smart one in some ways, I can tell you. Have you any of the letters here? Only the last one.

Bring it to me. Obediently as an intimidated child, the astrologer left the room, presently returning with a plain sheet of paper with handwriting. on one side. Kent, who almost never made a mistake, had forgotten in his absorption in the matter of the document the presence, even the existence, of Marjorie Blair. He was recalled to himself with a shock as he felt her shoulder touch his. Involuntarily, he whirled the sheet behind him. "'Let me see the rest of it, please,' she said calmly enough. Kent nodded. With drooping head and chin a twitch,

the Master of Stars stood studying them while they read the letter together. It was in two hand-writings, the date, address, and body of the letter being in a clear running character, while the signature, Astrea, was in very fine, minute, detached lettering. The note read,

All is now ready. you have but to carry out our arrangements implicitly the place is known to you there can be no difficulty in your finding it at two hours after sundown of july the fifth we shall be there our ship will be in waiting all will be as before fail me not your reward shall be greater than you dream astraya blair she was very white and her sensitive lips quivered a little but she contrived with an effort of courage which he marked with a flashing access of admiration to smile reassuringly don't fear for me she said we dorrances are of firm fiber so i see he said warmly he folded and pocketed the letter have you ever been to this place before kent asked of jacks no then how did you expect to find it she sent me a map i lost it that night what about the ship i wish you'd tell me there wasn't any ship that i could see and the reference to all being as it was before you've got me again there. In most every letter there was something about things I didn't understand. She seemed to think

we used to know each other. Maybe we did. Hundreds of them come to me. I can't remember them all. Sometimes she called me Herman. My name ain't Herman. Right up to the time I saw her on the heights, I was afraid she was taking me for somebody else and that the whole game would be queer, as soon as we came face to face. It seems quite probable, said Kent with a faint smile, that you were taken for someone else. Your personal appearance would hardly betray the error, however. Well, if I was taken for another man, said the puzzled astrologist,

why didn't she say so when she saw me? What did she say when she saw you? Why, she seemed very much. just as tickled to set eyes on me as if I were her herman twice over." "'Exactly,' replied Kent, with satisfaction. "'Well, how do you account for that?' Passing over the query, the other proceeded. "'Now, as I understand it, you put yourself in my hands unreservedly.'

"'What else can I do?' cried Preston Jacks. "'Nothing that would be so. wise, so do not try. I shall want you to come to Martindale Center on call. Pack up and be ready. But the police, quavered Jacks. You said the place was guarded, and I'll be pinched if I tried to get out. Oh, no, retorted Kent with a smile. That wouldn't have been true, and I never lie. You inferred that, and wrongly, from my little ruse to keep you from running away. That you would be arrested eventually if you attempted escape

was true. It still is true." "'I believe it,' replied Preston Jacks, fervently, with you on my trail. "'Come, Mrs. Blair,' said Kent. "'Remember, Jacks, fair play, and we shall pull you through yet.' In the taxi, Marjorie Blair turned to Kent. you are a very wonderful person she said kent shook his head and i think a very kind one kent shook his head again be kind to me and leave me go home alone kent stopped the cab stepped out and raised his hat she leaned toward him just a moment she said perhaps i ought not to ask But it is too strong for me. Will you tell me who that woman was?

Kent fell back a step, his eyes widening. You don't see it yet, he asked. Not a glimmer of light, unless she was some, some unacknowledged member of the family. No, not that. And you can't tell me who she was? Yes, but not just now. Now. Try to be patient for a little, Mrs. Blair."

"'Very well. Your judgment is best, doubtless. Of course you know whose hand wrote the body of that letter?' "'Yes. Try not to think of it,' advised Kent. "'It isn't nearly so ugly as it seems.' She looked at him with her straight, fearless, wistful glance. "'He had left me nothing to love. she said sadly but to find disgrace and shame even to the end of his life that is hard that it should have been my husband who gave the thing most precious to me to another woman but why did he write the letter to Preston jacks for her to sign chester kent shook his head end of chapter eighteen recording by roger maline chapter nineteen chapter nineteen

19 of the Secret of Lonesome Cove by Samuel Hopkins Adams. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 19. The Strange Trist. Midnight found Kent in the throes of literary effort. He was striving to compose a letter to Sedgwick that should, in turn, compose the recipient's perturbed feelings. It concluded, with some asserbity,

You've made a pretty complete idiot of yourself once. Don't try to eclipse your own record. By which he proposed to convey to the artist the fact that his presence in Boston was neither desirable nor advisable. As he was about to affix his signature, a knock brought him to the door of his hotel room. Letter for you, announced the messenger. boy. Kent signed the book and received a broad, thin envelope sealed in golden-hued wax

with the impress of a star and addressed in typewriting to his own name. "'Confound all fools who signed their letters on the outside,' said Kent, scowling at the seal. "'What has that planetary lunatic got to say that won't keep?' What Preston Jacks had to say was, first, in the form of it. of a very brief note, secondly in the shape of a formidable-looking document. The note began, esteemed sir, concluded, yours remorsefully, and set forth in somewhat exotic language, that the writer, fearing a lapse of courage that might confuse his narrative when he should come to give it, had taken pen in hand to commit it to writing, and would the recipient

kindly pardon haste? Therewith twenty-one typed pages. Haste, cried Chester Kent grievously, why he's written me the story of his life. Indeed, at a cursory glance,

it appeared so. The initial paragraph opened, I was born of poor but honest parents. Chester Kent groaned. A little farther down, the page the phrase oh that those innocent days of my happy childhood might return rose and smote him in the eyes Chester Kent snorted a desperate leap landed him in the midst of page five where he encountered this gem with these fateful words the kind old

minister laid a faltering hand upon my head but enough quite enough agreed Chester Kent and kicked the Starmaster's document into a corner. It fell in a crumpled heap with one sheet, curving in upward protuberance, conspicuous to the eye. On this sheet there was handwriting, and the handwriting was the same as that of the note Marjorie Blair had identified. Kent retrieved the paper, laid it on his desk,

selected a likely spot for one more plunge, and dived into the turn. turbid flood of words. And behold, as he turned, so to speak, the corner of the narrative, the current became suddenly clear. The muddled eloquence fell away, and the style crystallized into the tense, quick testimony of the prime actor in a drama, intensely and shudderingly felt. The reader ran through it with increasing absorption. Then pencil and hand, he attacked the first part of the precious screed, and emerged from a scene of literary carnage with one brief paragraph in hand and the slaughtered body of many eloquent pages strewing the floor. That one paragraph stated

that Preston Jacks, whose real name was John Preston, had, after a rebellious boyhood, run away to sea, lived two years before the mast, picked up a smattering of education, been assistant and caper for a magnetic healer, and had finally formulated a system of astrological prophecy that won him a slow but increasing renown. The gist of the system was to assign some particular and often imaginary star to every subject, and by a natural aptitude for warming out secrets from the credulous lead them along the celestial paths of mysticism to a point where he could reach their pocketbooks. He had been specially successful with women. One bit of his philosophy, Kent had preserved, unaltered. They bite slower than men, but when they do take hold, they swallow the hook

so deep that you're lucky to get it back at all. An hour's work with a pencil that should have been blue resolved the document, under Kent's skillful and remorseless editorship, into its salient elements. Obviously it was impossible to put it into alien hands for copying. Kent ordered up a typewriter and copied it himself. The duplicate he enclosed in his letter to Sedgwick, the original he put aside to sleep upon. Thus it ran. This Estreya affair looked good from the first, so began Preston Jacks' confession as, beheaded and stripped down by its editor. It looked like one of the best. You could smell money in it with half a nose. She bit first on one of the occult ads, the number four of the old

series, a double column with display in heavy-faced italics and let it out strong. That ad always was a good woman, fetcher. Her first letter came in on a Monday, I recollect. It was a big mail, There were a lot of curiosities and a couple of suspiciouses, and this was one of half a dozen in the true believers pile. Irene, my assistant, had put the red pencil on it, when she sorted out the mail, to show it was something special. But don't get her into this, Professor Kent. If you do, it's all off, jewels and all. Irene has always been for the straight star business and forecast game, and no extras or sidelines besides we were married last week what attracted irene's red pencil and caught me right away was the style of the thing the handwriting was classy the paper was elegant

there was something rich about it all this was no biddy pinching out the missus stationery to make a play with she quoted poetry swell poetry first off she signed herself an adept i gave her the personal number three and followed it up with the special friendly number five irene never liked that number five she says it spooney just the same it fetches them but not this one she began to get personal and warm-hearted all right and answer it up with the kindred soul racket but come to boston not a move said she couldn't there were reasons it looked like the old game flitter-headed wife and jealous husband nothing in that game unless you go in for the straight hold-up and blackmail was always too strong for my taste so i did the natural thing gave her special readings and doubled on the price she paid like a lamb Then, blame if it didn't slip out, she wasn't married at all. I lost that letter. It was kind of endearing.

Irene put up a howl. It was getting too personal for her taste. I told her I would cut it out. Then I gave my swell lady another address and wrote her for a picture. Nothing doing. But she began to hint around at a meeting. One day a letter came with a hundred-dollar bill in it, loose too, just like you or me might send a two-cent stamp.

For expenses, she wrote, and I was to come at once. Our souls had returned to recognize and join each other, she said. Here is the only part of the letter I could dig up from the waste-basket. Here, the specimen of handwriting that had caught Kent's eye was pasted upon the document. You have pointed out to me that our stars, swinging in mighty circles, are rushing on to a joint climax. Together we may force open the doors to the past, and sway the world as we sought to

do in bygone days." And so on, and ceter, continued the narrative. Well, of course, she was nutty, that is, about the star business. But that don't prove anything. the dippiest star-chaser I ever worked was the head of a department in one of the big stores, and the fiercest little businesswoman in business hours you ever knew. It's the romantic in the sex that sets them skidding when it comes to stars and such like, and Estreya was not a patch of some of them that has been paying me good sane money for years.

That was the letter she first called me Herman in and signed Assreya. stray a two. She said there was no use pretending to conceal her identity any longer from me. Seemed to think I knew all about it. That jarred me some, and, with the change of writing in the signature, it all looked pretty queer. You remember the last letter with the copper-plate writing name at the bottom? Well, they all came that way after this, the body of the letter very bold and careless, signature written in an entirely different hand. I took it to Chorio, the character reader, and he said so too. What's more, he advised me to quit the game, said there was trouble back of that handwriting.

Those character fellows ain't such fools either. But hundred-dollar bills loose in letters mean a big stake. I wrote her, I would come, and I signed it, Herman, just to pay. play up to her lead. Irene got on and threw a fit. She said her woman's intuition told her there was danger in it. Truth is, she was stuck on me herself, and I was on her. But we did not find it out until after the crash. So I was all for prying Estrella loose from her money, if I had to marry her to do it. She wrote some slush about the one desperate plunge together. and then the glory that was to be ours. That looked like marriage to me. You saw the last letter.

It had me rattled, but not rattled enough to quit. There was a map in it of the place for the meeting. That was plain enough. But the hour and wee business in it bothered me. It looked a bit like a third person. I had not heard anything about any third person. What is more I did not have any use for a third person in this business. The stars forbade it. I wrote and told her so, and said if there was any outsider rung in, the stellar courses would have a sudden change of heart. Then I put my best robe in a bag and bought a ticket for Carr's Junction. You can believe that while I was going through the woods, I was keeping a bright eye out for any third party. Well, he was not there, not when I arrived anyway. Where he was all the time, I do not know. I never saw him,

but I heard him later. I can hear him yet at night, God help me. She was leaning against a little tree at the edge of the thicket when I first saw her. There was plenty of light from the moon, and it sifted down through the trees and fell across her head and neck. As need a bit of stage-setting for my business as I could have fixed up myself. And I am some hand at that. You have seen my place, and you know. I noticed a queer circlet around her neck. The stones were like soft pink fires. I had not ever seen any like them before, and I stood there trying to figure whether they were rubies and how much they might be worth. While I was wondering about it, she half turned and i got my first good look at her face she was younger than i had reckoned on and not bad to look at but queer queer

something about her struck me all wrong gave me a sort of ugly shiver another thing struck me all right though that was that she had jewels on pretty much all her fingers in one of my letters to her i gave her a hint about that that she had jewels on pretty much all her fingers in one of my letters to her i gave her a hint about that told her that gems gave the stars a stronger hold on the wearer and she had taken it all in she certainly was an easy subject a bundle done up in paper was on the ground near her i ducked back very still and got into my robe the arrangement in her letter was for me to whistle when i got there i whistled she straightened up come she said i am waiting her voice was rather deep and soft but it wasn't a pleasant softness some way i did not like it any better than i liked her looks it was too late to back out though i stepped out into the open and gave her the grand bow the master of the stars at your command i said you are not as i expected to see you she said that was a sticker it might mean most anything i took a chance oh well i said we all change it went we change as life changes she said they never found you did they from the way she said it i saw she expected me to say no so i said it i saw she expected me to say no so i said said no. That was left for me to return and do, she went on with a kind of queer joy that gave me

the shivers again. Yes, I agreed, wishing I knew what she was driving at, but sticking to my text, and here we are. Together, says she, isn't it wonderful? After all these years? The instant I saw your statement in the newspaper, I knew it was your soul. calling to mine across the ages. You know, Professor Kent, I thought that was so good I made a note of it for future business use. While I was saying it over to myself,

she gave me a jar. Our boat is at the shore, she said. In that last letter she mentioned a ship, and now here was this boat business. Afterward I looked for a sign of either, but could not find any. I thought perhaps it would explain the other part of the we and our. If I was going to elope by sea, I wanted to know it, and I said as much. "'Are you steadfast?' she asked.

"'Well, there was only one answer to that. I said I was.' She opened her package and took out a coil of rope. It was this gray-white rope, sort of clothes line, and it looked strong. What now, I asked her. To bind us together, she said, close, close together, and then the plunge. This time there shall be no failure. They shall not find one of us without the other. You are not afraid?

Afraid, my neck was bristling. The woman was proposing, as near as I could make out, that we go out in a boat, tie ourselves together, and jump overboard. She seemed to think it was an encore to some previous performance. Go slow, I said, thinking mighty hard. I don't quite see the point of this. All, all is at it is foreordained in the stars, the curve of the astral courses,

the illimitable, unchangeable curve that has made us what we are, and shall draw us on and on to our mighty destiny. You, you have pointed out the way. That is what she gave me, waving her arms in the air. Didn't I curse myself for not remembering what I had written her? No clue, except that the poor soul was plum-dippy, too dippy for me to marry at any price. It wouldn't have held in the courts.

Yet, there might have been five thousand dollars, of diamonds on her. It was a tight place. I wanted to duck the whole thing, but the rings held me. I have always been doughty about diamonds. I suppose she felt me weakening. Women are queer that way. You dare to break our pact, she says in a voice like a woman on the stage. Then she changed and spoke very gently. You are looking at these gougas, she said, and took a diamond circlet from her finger. What do these count for? And she put it in my hand. Another ring dropped at my feet. Mind, she was giving them to me. I don't know if it would hold in law, she being a lunatic, but I was going to take all I could on the chance and watch for a getaway. The diamonds had

me hypnotized. These are as nothing compared to what we shall have, she went on, after the plunge. Wait! She had dropped the rope, and now she went into her paper parcel again, kneeling at my side. I had stooped to look for the fallen ring when I felt her hand slide up my wrist, and then a quick little snap of something cold and close. A bracelet, I thought. and it was a bracelet forever together she said and stood up beside me chained to me by the handcuffs she had slipped on my right wrist and her left

never you think your nerve is sound till you have felt something like that i thought mine was and i squalled aloud like a child at a ghost hush she said and her free arm pressed across my mouth how much to let me off i asked as soon as i could get breath you see it flashed on me that it was a trap you can never tell in our line when the detectives may be after you or what kind of a game they'll put up i looked around for the rest of the bunch to come and jump me but i didn't see a thing her next words put me on the stars the stars she whispered "'See ours how they light our pathway across the sea? "'The sea that awaits us?' "'More breath came back to me. "'It wasn't a trap then. "'She was only a crazy woman that I had to get rid of.

"'I looked down at the handcuff. "'It was of iron and had dull rusted edges. "'A hammer would have made short work of it, "'but I did not have any hammer. "'I did not even. even have a stone. There would be stones in the broken land beyond the thicket. I thought I saw away. Yes, let's go, I said. We set out. At the edge of the thicket was a flatish rock with small stones near it. Here I pretended to slip. I fell with my right wrist across a rock and caught up

a cobblestone with my left hand. At the first crack of the stone on the handcuff, I could feel the old iron weaken. I got no chance for a second blow. Her hands were at my throat. They bid in. Then I knew it was a fight for my life. She was light, but she was strong like a panther.

If her dress bound her, I was as bad off in my robe. At the first grip I was forced back into a bush and sprawled there in a tangle of branches and flying cloth. Somehow I twisted her fingers from my throat. We struggled out into the moonlight again. I got a fair look at her face, and I guess I went mad myself with the terror of it. The next thing I remember clearly,

she was quiet on the ground, and I was hammering, hammering, hammering hammering at my wrist with a blood-stained stone i do not know if it was her blood or mine both maybe for my wrist was like pulp when the iron finally cracked open and i was free i caught a glimpse of blood on her temple i suppose i had hit her there with the stone she looked dead all i wanted was to think to think to think to think How could I think with her lying there? I crept out of sight of her and kneeled down. Her star, the star I had faked for hers, was shining in my eyes like a cold glare.

That very minute a wisp of cloud blew across and wiped it out, and I heard myself squeal again. I was pretty much doddy, I guess. While I was trying to think she came alive. she didn't stir slow and moan like i have seen men in my sea-days when they were knocked out she was on her feet before i knew it and off at a dead run the broken handcuff went jerking and jumping around her as she ran that was an awful night full of awful things but the one worst sight of all worse even than the finding of her afterward was that mad figure leaping over the broken ground toward the cliff's edge even if i had tried to follow i never could have caught her and she was going straight for her death she dropped down out of sight into a hollow and came up on the rise beyond i yelled to her to stop for god's sake to stop then i held my breath to listen for her scream when she went over

i never heard it but i heard something else i heard a man's voice it was clear and strong and high there was death in it i tell you mr kent living horror gripped at the throat that gave that cry then there was a rush of little stones and gravel down the face of the cliff that was all beyond me the ground rose i ran up i ran up on it. It gave me a clear view of the cliff top. I thought, sure, I would see the man who had cried out from there. Not a sight of him. Nothing moved in the moonlight. I thought he must have gone over the cliff, too. I threw myself down and buried my face. How long I lay on the ground, I do not know. The wisp of cloud had blotted out the woman's star now, and by that I I knew she was dead. But the moon was shining high.

It gave me light enough to see my way into the gully, and I stumbled and slid down through to the beach. I found her body right away. It lay with the head against a rock, but there was no sign of the man's body, the man who had yelled. So I thought perhaps he had not gone over the cliff, and I sat and waited to see if he would come and care for her.

It was quite clear to me what I must do if he did not come. Perhaps my own brain was queer from the shock and the beating she had given me with her manacled wrist, but I felt that before I went away from there, I must conceal the cause of her death and everything about it that I could. If it was known how she was killed,

they would be more likely to suspect me. I went back and got the rope. I got an old grating from the shore. I dragged the body into the sea and let it soak. I lashed it to the grating. I stripped the jewelry from her, but I could not take it. That would have made me a murderer.

There is a rock in the gully that I marked. Nobody else would ever notice it. Under it, I hid the jewelry. i can take you to it and i will i got on my coat and sunk my robe in a creek and got myself to the railroad station for a morning train and when i got home i married irene and i am through with the crooked work forever this is the whole truth i did not kill her i do not know to-day who or what she is i have looked in the papers and the papers and that-you-she is i have looked in the papers and there is nothing, and that is so strange that I would think it was all a fearful dream, if it was not for my smashed-up wrist. But if any human being knows more about the death of Estreya,

it must be the man who shouted as she fell from the cliff, and who went away and did not come back. And may God have no mercy for me if this is not all a true statement so far as I know the truth. Signed, Preston Jacks, S. M. End of Chapter 19. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 20 of The Secret of Lonesome Cove by Samuel Hopkins Adams.

This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 20. In the White Room. Anilaca, July 15. to hotel ary martindale center dust five seventy one and send up seven chairs chester kent now i wonder what that might mean mused the day clerk of the airy as he read the telegram through for the second time convention in the room of mystery maybe to satisfy his curiosity he went up to the room himself its white bareness confirmed a suspicion of long standing any man he remarked to the scrub woman who would pay five a day for a room just to put nothing at all in it has sure got a kink in his cogs

nor did the personnel of the visitors who in course of the late afternoon arrived with request to be shown to five seventy one served to efface this impression first came the sheriff from annalaka he was followed by a man of unmistakably african derivation who gave the name of jim and declined to identify himself more specifically while the clerk was endeavoring with a signal lack of success to pump him lawyer adam bame arrived and so emphatically vouched for his predecessor as to leave the desk lord no further excuse for obstructive tactics shortly afterward alexander blair came in with a woman heavily veiled and was deferentially conducted aloft finally chester kent himself appeared a company by Sedgwick and a third man, unknown to the clerk, pompously arrayed in frock coat and silk hat, and characterized by a painfully twitching chin. Who have come? Kent asked the clerk.

That functionary ran over the list. Looks like something to do with the woman found in Lonesome Cove last week, he assayed, hopefully. Kent glanced out of the window. It looks like rain. he observed and it looks like wind and it looks like a number of things that aren't anybody's business Furthermore, I may mention that we shall not need in 571 ice water Stationery casual messages calling cards or any other form of espionage

He favored the Wilting clerk with a sunny smile and led his companions to the elevator Sedgewick put a hand on his arm. The woman with Blair, he asked under his breath. Kent nodded. I rather hoped that she wouldn't come, he said. Blair might better have told her, so far as he knows. Then he doesn't know all? No, and perhaps she would be content with nothing else.

It is her right, and she is her right, and she is. is a brave woman is marjorie blair as jacks here can testify we have seen her under fire she is that confirmed the man with a twitching chin this then is the final clear-up asked sedgwick final and complete thank god it will be a weight off my shoulders off many shoulders said kent here we are greetings among the little group so strangely and harshly thrown together by the dice cast of the hand of circumstance were brief and formal only preston jacks was named by kent with the comment that his story would be forthcoming the seven guests seated themselves the blairs at one end of the half circle sedgwick and the astrologer at the other kent leaning against the wall humbled uncertainly at his ear. I hardly know where to begin, he said, his eyes roving along the intent line.

Not that the case isn't perfectly clear, but there are certain startling phases, which, which, he glanced toward the Blairs. Marjorie Blair smiled bravely at him. Don't be alarmed for me, Professor Kent, she said. What I most want is to have everything clear it up, everything. First, your jewels, then.

Kent turned to Preston Jacks, who handed him a package. Opening it, Kent displayed the wonderful Grovener Rose Topazes, with a miscellaneous lot of rings sparkling amid their coils. With a cry, Marjorie caught up the necklace. Are all the remainder of the lost valuables there, Mrs. Blair? asked Kent. she glanced carelessly at the rings i think so yes but this is what matters to me these are all that preston jacks found on the body alexander blair leaned from his seat the better to take preston jacks at the other end of the crescent under consideration it was you who found the body he demanded

yes said the astrologer uneasily were you alone when you found it yes no i don't know there was a man somewhere's near i heard him but i never saw him was mr francis sedgwick with you that night pursued mr blair in measured tones i never saw mr sedgwick until to-day there was a little sedgewick with you that night pursued mr blair in measured tones i never saw mr sedgwick until to-day there was a little soft sigh of relief from where marjorie blair sat that may or may not be true said alexander blair sternly it is the word of a man who has robbed a dead body if indeed he did not also kill steady mr blair broke in chester kent perhaps considering who is present we would better approach this in a somewhat calmer spirit i didn't kill or rob anyone the word seemed to be jerked out from between preston jack's teeth by the spasmodic quiverings of his chin how came you by my daughter's jewels then if you did not take them from the body whoever said i didn't take em from the body retorted the other i did take em but it wasn't robbery and what i want to know is how did they come to be a in the body anyhow. What was that Estreo woman doing with your daughter's rings and necklace? Tell me that.

Wait a moment, put in Kent. Explain to Mr. Blair, Jax, what your purpose was in taking the jewels. To hide them. I thought the less there was in the body to identify it, the better chance I'd have of getting away. I was so scared that I guess I was half. crazy anyway and now I hear she never has been identified is that right sheriff slager half rose from his chair ain't you told him professor Kent Kent shook his head nor you mr. Blair no then I don't see why we can't keep it amongst ourselves said the sheriff Gantz at Jim's tight as

a clam. Nobody'll ever get anything out of him. And Lord knows, the less that's known of it, the better I'm suited. I ain't none too proud of my part in it. There is no reason why it should ever be known outside of this room, said Kent, and, at the words, Alexander Blair exhaled a pent-up breath of relief. But it is due to one person here that she should know everything. The question is how to make it clear in the best and the kindest way. If it will make it easier for anyone here to speak, said Marjorie Blair, I can say that I understand certain phases of my husband's past life thoroughly. There is no need to spare me on that ground. But this pertains to a phase that you do not understand

at all. Yes, I think so, she persisted gently. This dead woman had some hold over my husband. To maintain it, she came to live near Hedgerow House, and while she was blackmailing Wilfred, she got into communication with Mr. Jacks. Perhaps they were in collusion, suggested lawyer Bain. Oh, no, no, broke in Alexander Blaine.

layer impatiently. You're wide of the truth. I understand, persisted the young woman, that the woman persuaded or compelled Wilfred to write the letter to Mr. Jacks, which she signed Estreya. And that when she went to keep the rendezvous, she took my jewels,

which, I suppose, she forced poor Wilfred to steal for her. Am I not right, Professor Kent? No. far from it why not cried sedgwick eagerly she certainly had the jewels on when she met me and the handcuffs must have been in the bundle i heard them clink exactly the handcuffs said kent dryly what use to your mind would a woman of that sort have for manacles in those circumstances yes put in adam Bain, they fit in about as nice as a pink silk hat at a funeral. I know what use she had for him, muttered Preston Jacks, caressing his wrist. It's simply a case of crazy woman, isn't it, Professor Kent?

No, not if you mean that your assailant was a crazy woman, said Kent patiently. Then who, in heaven's name, is or was astray? cried Sedgwick. Astrea is, I take it, a lady long since dead. A very strange and interesting lady who adopted that name for her own particular pursuits along our friend Jacks's line of interest. They call themselves all sorts of things,

observed the astrologer philosophically. I had a follower once that used to sign herself Carrie Nation, and she was, wasn't the real carry at all. No name is sacred to him when they go dippy over the stars. Then the woman of Lonesome Cove borrowed that name from some old record? asked Sedgwick. Follow me through a page of unwritten local history, said Chester Kent, straightening up. The beginning of this story goes back some 75 years, when there lived, not far from Hogshaven, in a house which has since been destroyed an older sister of captain hogg who married into the grovener family she was from the evidence of the grovenor family historian who by the way has withheld all this from his pages

a woman of the most extraordinary charm and magnetism not beautiful in the strict sense of the word she had a gift beyond beauty and she led men in chains her husband appears to have been a weakling who counted for nothing in her life after the birth of her children seeking distraction she flung herself into mysticism and became the priestess of a cult of star-worshippers which included many of the more cultivated people of this region. Among them was a young German mystic and philosopher who had fled to this country to escape punishment for political offenses. Herman von Milz was his name. That's why she called me Herman, broke in Preston in an awed half-whisper.

Don't jump to wild conclusions, said Kent, smilingly. some of their correspondence is still extant she signed herself astraya in handwriting similar to the signature of that note of yours jacks there seems to have been no guilt between them as the law judge's guilt the bond was a mystic one but it was none the less fatal it culminated in a tragedy of which the details are lost perhaps it was an elopement that they planned perhaps a double suicide with the idea that their souls would be united in death there are hints of that in the old letters in the historian's possession and in the library at hedgerow house this much is known the couple embarked together in a small boat von milt's was never again heard of camilla grovener's body came ashore in lonesome cove she was the cove's earliest recorded victim the sketch which that mischiefmonger elder dennet left at your door sedgwick supposing it to be a likeness of the unfortunate creature he had seen in the road to your house is a charles elliott sketch for the portrait of camilla grovener my god jacks burst out was it a ghost i met up with that night on hawkhill heights as near a ghost as you are ever likely to encounter probably answered kent but see here said adam bane

i'm a lawyer the law doesn't deal with ghosts or near ghosts are you trying to tell us professor kent that the soul of this long-dead astraya camilla grovener came back to inhabit the body of the jane doe of lonesome cove not precisely that either everything is strictly within the limits of the law's cognizance mr bane as you will see now i'm going to make a long jump down to the present. If I fail to keep the trail clear anywhere, you are any of you at liberty to interrupt me. First, then, I want you to follow with me the course of a figure that leaves Hedgerow House on the late afternoon of July 5th. By chance, the figure is not seen, except at a distance by Gansett Jim, who suspected nothing, then. Otherwise, it would have been stopped, as it wears Mrs. Blair's necklace and rings. Dressing the part of Australia, guessed lawyer Bain.

Precisely. Our jeweled figure, in a dress that is an old one of Mrs. Blair's, and with a package in hand, makes its way across country to the coast. To join me, said Preston Jacks. To join you! Chance brings the wayfarer face to face. face with that gentleman of the peek-a-boo mind, Elder Dennett. They talk. The stranger asks, quite by chance, though the elder assumed it was otherwise, about the home of Francis Sedgwick.

At the entrance to Sedgwick's place, the pair met. There was a curious encounter, ending in Sedgwick's demanding an explanation of the Rose Topaz's, which he knew to be Mrs. Blair's. How did he know that? demanded Alexander Blair. Because I had warned them when I sat to him, said Marjorie Blair quietly. You sat to Sedgwick, for your picture? Why didn't you tell me of this? No explanation was due you. It was a matter of chance, our acquaintance. Mr. Sedgwick did not even know who I was. nor who his other visitor was, I suppose, said Blair with a savage sneer.

No, said Sedgwick, nor do I know to this day. The stranger, continued Kent, refused to give Sedgwick any explanation, and when he threatened to follow, stunned him with a rock and escaped. Some distance down the road, the wayfarer encountered Simon P. Groot, the itinerant merchant. Sedgwick afterward met him and made inquiries, but obtained no satisfaction. Why was Mr. Sedgwick so eager to recover the trail if he had not murder in his mind, demanded Blair?

You are proceeding on the theory that Sedgwick, knowing who Mrs. Blair was, and who the strange visitor was, deliberately killed the latter for motives of his own. But Sedgwick can prove that he was back in the house by nine o'clock, and we have a witness here who was talking with the wearer of the necklace at that hour. Jacks, let us have your statement. Holding the copy of the confession in his hand, in case of confusion of memory, the starmaster told of his rendezvous of the swift savage attack, of the appalling incident of the manacles of the wild race across the heights and of the final tragedy i've thought and wondered and figured day and night he said in conclusion and i can't get at what that rope and the handcuffs meant the handcuffs must have come from that dreadful collection of captain hoggs things in the big hallway at hedgerow house said marjorie blair

yes assented kent and the dim clue to their purpose goes back again i fancy to the strange mysticism of the original austria the disordered mind with which we have to deal seems to have been guarding against any such separation as divided in death astrea from her herman but chester objected sedgwick you speak of a disordered mind-you speak of a disordered mind and yet you've told us that it isn't a case of insanity never contradicted kent you've misinterpreted what i said in the early stages of the affair i told you if you remember that a very bizarre situation indicated a very bizarre motive what could be more bizarre than insanity was it suicidal insanity then asked bane not in the ordinary and intentional sense then it was the other man that killed her said preston jacks the man i heard yell when she went over but what became of him simon p grute spoke of hearing that man's scream too confirmed bane have you got any clue to him professor kent the other man was francis sedgwick declared Alexander Blair doggedly. Chester Kent shook his head.

"'I've got a witness against that theory "'from your own side, Mr. Blair,' said he. "'Gansett Jim at first thought as you do. "'In that belief he tried to kill Mr. Sedgwick. "'Now he knows his mistake. "'Isn't that so, Jim?' "'Yeah,' grunted the half-breed. You were out through the countryside that night trying to trace the wanderer.

Yeah. And later, when I showed you the footprints at the scene of the struggle, you saw that they were not Mr. Sedgwick's? Yeah. You examined the cliff for footprints. Do you think anyone pushed or pursued the victim over the brink? No. Whose were the footprits? prints that you found, Jim," demanded Alexander Blair.

The half-breed pointed, in silence, to Preston Jacks. Of course. His and—and the others. But there were the marks of a third person, weren't there? No. There must have been, insisted Mr. Blair. Are you positive? Yeah.

then did the other man the man whom jacks heard cry out walk without leaving any trace there was no other man said chester kent don't you understand mr blair he added with significant emphasis the source of that cry in the night heard by jacks and simon grute a flash of enlightenment swept blair's face ah ah he said said in a long-drawn breath. Then, I was wrong. I beg Mr. Sedgwick's pardon. Sedgwick bowed. Marjorie Blair's hand went out, and her fingers closed softly on the tense hand of her father-in-law.

No third person had any part whatsoever in the drama which Jacks has recounted to us, pursued Kent. In the morning the body was discovered. Sheriff Slager was sent for. He found in the pocket something that betrayed the connection of the body with Hedgerow House. A bit of writing paper with the heading still legible, said the sheriff. With this he accosted Gansett Jim, who, after a night-long search, had come out on the cliff. Jim, assuming that the sheriff knew all, told him of the identity of the body. The sheriff saw a chance for money in it. If I do you an injustice, Schlegger,

you'll correct me. Go right ahead. Don't mind me. I'll take my medicine. Very well. Schlegger adopted the ready-made theory which Mr. Jacks had prepared for him, so to speak, that the body was washed ashore and arranged with the connivance of Dr. Breed, the medical officer, to bury him. it as an unknown. For this perversion of their duty, Mr. Blair rewarded them handsomely. As I understand it, he dreaded any publicity attaching itself to Hedro House and his family. God knows I had suffered enough of that, murmured Blair. Let us hope it is now ended. To avoid this, Mr. Blair was willing even to let the supposed

murderer, whom he believed to be Sedgwick, go unscathed of justice. By chance, however, I saw the body on the beach. The most important discovery of all I missed at that time very stupidly, the more so in that I had a clue in the character of the assault upon Sedgwick, but I could not overlook the fact that the corpse had not been washed ashore. Moreover, the matter of the manacles stimulated my interest. Not until the inquest, however, did I realize the really startling and unique feature of the case. There is where you and Dr. Breed made your fatal error, Mr. Sheriff. That's right. You saw the face when we lifted the lid, I suppose. No, you were too quick in replacing it. Then how did you get on to the thing?

from seeing the face after the body was returned to the courtroom hold on a bit interrupted lawyer bane i remember there was a fuss about the corpse not being publicly shown for identification some of us insisted the sheriff gave in the coffin lid wasn't quarter off when breed gave a yell and clapped it on again and they took the body back to his house and shut themselves in with it for half an hour, before they took it to the hall again. Naturally, being suspicious, I looked at it pretty close, but I didn't see anything queer. Possibly you didn't notice a cut on the cheek, suggested Kent. Yes, Dennett spoke of it, and the sheriff shut him up. But what of it? It might have been done in any one of a dozen ways. but it wasn't there when the body lay on the beach. In the rolling and tossing of the journey,

there might easily be minor scarifications, said Sedgwick. True, but Frank, what did you suppose that sudden shift on the part of the officers of the law meant? Perhaps that the body was not in fit condition to be viewed. In that case, what could they have done to make, it more fit." Nothing, I suppose. I didn't consider that.

I rather opined, said lawyer Bain, that someone had changed bodies on him. That's what made you so cussed curious, was it, Adam? barked the sheriff. There was no exchange of bodies, said Kent, but there was a change in the body itself. What kind of a change? asked Sedgwick. Has it ever occurred to you to think that after death the hair grows fast? I've heard it said, said lawyer Bain, that it grows faster than in life. And that it grows not only on the head but on the face as well?

The face, a woman's face? exclaimed Sedgwick. No, a man's. What man? The man in the coffin. Have you lost your mind, chat? The body in the coffin was that of the woman who met me at the entrance to the nook. No, it was the body of the man who, dressed in woman's clothing, met you at the nook, and knocked you down with a stone flung overhand, as not one one woman's clothing.

woman in a thousand could have thrown it that in itself ought to have suggested the secret to me long before i discovered it but how did you discover it inquired sedgwick in bewilderment since you didn't see the growth of beard on the dead face yourself by the cut on the cheek you see the sheriff had failed to foresee that tell-tale beard so when indifferent to Mr. Bain's protest against burial without a formal view of the body, they opened up the casket and saw the obvious change in the face. There was nothing for the officials to do but remedy their carelessness. They had the body taken to the house and did the best they could. That cut on the cheek was a razor cut. Having realized that much, I had to deal thenceforth with the mystery of a dead man masquerading as a woman and being abetted in the deception by the officers of the law astraya a man broke in preston jacks his chin in a spasm no wonder she he put up such a fight who was he my son wilfrid blair said alexander blair

took a swift involuntary step toward margery but kent was before him setting a firm hand on his shoulder not now frank he said then turning to the girl widow you see mrs blair he said very gently it isn't so bad as you feared there was no other woman in the case no disgrace no shame you need feel nothing but pity for an unhound happy, wrecked mind, for which death was the happiest refuge. Marjorie Blair sat very still and white. Let me think, she whispered. Let me think. But the man's voice, exclaimed Jacks, the voice of the man in the cliff. Wilfred Blairs, said Kent. In the final moment he came to himself. At last he resumed his voice.

Up to then he had been, in voice, manner, thought, purpose, unconsciously playing a part. "'Astraia!' said Sedgwick and Jacks, in a breath. "'Yes, it was one of those strange and complete assumptions of personality which puzzle the alienists. Wilfred Blair's diseased mind had fastened upon a strange, history of his ancestress, and brooded on it until he became convinced that her spirit was reincarnated in himself.

Undoubtedly, his striking likeness to the portrait of Camilla Grovener powerfully aided the obsession. There were her letters in the library to give color to his unconscious imitation. As is common in this form of dementia, he was secretive. But there can be no doubt that from the time when he recognized in Preston Jacks's advertisement, the call of Estreus Kindred Soul, Herman von Milz, his one overwhelming desire was to reenact the drama of the last century in his own assumed personality. Jacks has told us how cleverly and secretly the plan for the double suicide was matured.

This obsession must have been of long-stage. We thought it melancholia, said Alexander Blair. As you say, he had been very secretive, very silent, too. We kept Gansett Jim with him as a sort of bodyguard. Marjorie Blair got to her feet. She was ghost white, but her voice and eyes were steady as she faced Kent. I must understand this all, she said. Wilfred's body is where?

In Analaka churchyard. Then who, what, is buried in his grave at Hedgerow House? Nothing, said Alexander Blair. A mock funeral? My dear, said the man, he seemed to have grown suddenly old under the unspoken arraignment. I could not tell you what I thought the truth, I thought then that Wilfred had encountered Mr. Sedgwick, and that—that there had been a fight in which he was killed.

Rather than face the scandal of a murder trial, a scandal in which the family name would have been dragged through the mire of the public prince again, I chose the part of deceit. I'd have bribed a hundred officers of the law, rather than have had you dragged to the witness stand, and have been compelled to give testimony myself. There has been enough of public shame in my life. But you made me believe that Mr. Sedgwick killed Wilfred, she accused. I believed it myself, he retorted. But what basis had you for suspecting me of the crime?

cried Sedgwick, turning to Marjorie Blair. You didn't know of his visit to me in woman's clothes, you knew nothing of the quarrel, it seems, until just now. For what possible reason in your belief should I have killed him? She flushed to her temples. I thought, she murmured, that he might have known of our acquaintance and have misconstrued, that he might have gone to find you and attacked you, and that you killed him, in self-defense, I mean.

Thank you for that last, at least, said Sedgwick rather bitterly. Then as he saw her wince, Forgive me, he added in a low tone. But to be suspected by you, even though you were misled, he stopped, catching Kent's frowning glance. Who discovered that the burial was a false one? She asked after a pause. "'Professor Kent,' said Blair.

He and Mr. Sedgwick exhumed the coffin. "'That was the night,' her eyes questioned Sedgwick. "'That I found you at Hedrow House. Yes,' he said gently. "'And that my father-in-law charged you with being my husband's murderer.' "'My dear Mrs. Blair,' said Kent, uncomfortably, remember what justification he thought he had. She considered a moment. You are right, she said with an effort.

I don't mean to be unjust. Her head dropped in thought. Whatever Wilfred may have been, she continued, after a moment's silence, he was my husband. I bear his name. And to leave him in a nameless grave, is to dishonor not him alone but myself. You would claim the body, cried Alexander Blair.

What else is there for us to do? she countered. And bring down upon us unavoidably the publicity which we have escaped at so bitter a price, cried the elder Blair. Have we not suffered enough from the scandal of his life that we should be further involved in the scandal of his death? He's right, miss, it won't do, said the sheriff kindly. Silence is best, said Sedgwick. What the papers would do with this, opined Preston Jacks, would be a plenty. My advice is to let be, proffered lawyer Bain.

Yeah, grunt. wanted the half-breed. Oh, are you all against me? she cried. Mr. Kent, you too? Do you think me wrong? No, said Kent. Will you drag our name, hers as well as mine, in the mud? cried the head of the house of Blair. No, said Kent again.

But how, then, tell me what you intend. No. said Kent, and with such absolute flat finality that the others looked at him in blank silence. The silence was broken by a tremendous sigh. All eyes turned to Preston Jacks, who had risen and was leaning against the wall, his chin jerking galvanically. Well, said Kent, What about me? asked the starmaster, miserably. Kent's fingers twitched at his earlobe. "'Well, what about you?' he repeated.

"'What are you going to do with me?' "'You—oh, you go back to Irene,' said Kent, with his half-smile. "'That's your sentence, if Mrs. Blair approves.' The astrologer drew a quick breath. The light of a great relief softened his hard little eyes. eyes. A startled look widened them, as Marjorie Blair, her own trouble forgotten for the moment, rose and went over to him, the reflection of another's happiness shining in her face and making it doubly lovely. A ring glinted in her outstretched hand. "'Take this,' she said softly, "'for your Irene. May you be very, very happy together?'

for the space of five seconds preston jack's chin was motionless then a minor cataclysm convulsed it speech emerged from that facial quake and a half-stutter half blubber wholly absurd and laughter-provoking and heart-moving what what'll i say what'll i do to thank you ma'am i-i'll just tell you this it's me for the straight and narrow from now on and if ever you or professor kent or any of you want an a one special charted extra celestial star reading for self or friends you-you come he made a rush for the hallway and the door banged a period to his emotion. I think, said Chester Kent gravely, that lesson will last. As Marjorie Blair stood smiling, soft-eyed at the door

whence the overcome Starmaster had disappeared, Sedgwick started to pass. With quick and unexpected tact, Alexander Blair drew the sheriff and the lawyer aside, giving to the young people their moment. She looked up at Sedgwick with lifted eyebrows. Are you not going to speak to me? she said sorrowfully. What is there to say, except one thing, and that I may not say now.

No, no, she whispered in a fright, but say you forgive me. You, for what? For having believed, even for an instant. what Father Blair said that you were the murderer." Sedgwick smiled bravely. That is all passed. And you'll think of me at least kindly? I'll think of you with every beat of my heart, he said passionately.

Across her face passed the look of fairy wistfulness that was all her own. No, she said, said, "'It would be better for both of us that you should forget for the time.' He leaned over her. "'What shall assuage the unforgotten pain and teach the unforgettable to forget, he quoted very low?' "'And yet,' she persisted, "'it would be easier now that I am going away.'

"'Going away? For long?' she nodded with compressed lips sedgwick turned very white oh don't look like that she faltered i can't bear it can't you see that after what has happened i must go i must have time to forget there is so much to forget surely you can be patient and trust again he smiled at her with a courage shining through his pain that brought the quick tears to her eyes yes i can wait and trust and love again he leaned to her and think how she far from me with like eyes sees through the untuneful bow the wingless skies He drew her gaze to his own, held it for the space of a heartbeat, and was gone. End of Chapter 20. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 21 of The Secret of Lonesome Cove by Samuel Hopkins Adams.

This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 21 Rewards Summer had waned from the coast, and with it had passed the keenness of local interest in the strangest victim of Lonesome Cove. Even the indefatigable tongue of Elder Dennett had almost ceased to clack on the topic by the fall of the first snow. Other subjects of absorbing interest supervened during the long winter, the wreck of the schooner yacht off dead men's eddy,

the coming of the new Presbyterian minister at Martindale Center, whose wife was reported to be a suffragette, the mysterious benefaction that had befallen old Mrs. Orcutt late in February, enabling her to leave her home next to Anilaca churchyard and take her asthma southward in search of a cure. The rumor that Hedgerow House was to be sold before summer. And young Blair's body along with it, I expect, remarked, the elder malevolently, "'Seems to me, if I was a millionaire like Alexander Blair,

I wouldn't sell my own flesh and blood, dead or alive.' Of Alexander Blair himself, nothing had been seen in the neighborhood since mid-July, nor of his daughter-in-law. Hedgerow House was in charge of Gansett Jim as caretaker. Professor Kent had left about the same time as the Blairs. But Francis Sedgwick had stuck to the nook, studying first the cold grays and browns of November,

and later the wonderful blazing whites and subtle blues of drift and shadow spread before him in winter's endless panorama, with the same enthusiasm that he had devoted to October's riot of color. Though the work prospered, the worker had paled. It was the opinion of Martindale Center and Anilaca alike, that the painter feller was looking right peeky and piney like one whose conscience ached. But Sedgwick had nothing worse than a heartache, and the fates were making medicine for that. Wind-born on the blast of a mid-March gale, Chester Kent dropped down at the door of the nook one wild afternoon, without warning. As always, he was impeccably clad, though his stout boots showed the usage of recent heart,

where. Leaving Austin that morning, with his light valise slung to his shoulder, he had footed the fifteen miles of soggy earth to Sedgwick's place in a luxurious tussle against the wind. Throwing open the door, he called his friend's name. Instantly, the artist came loping down the stairs and had him by the shoulders. "'I've got a collar up above,' he said, after the usual greetings and questionings were over. Yes, have you gone in for local society? Not exactly local. It's Alexander Blair.

Hello, said Kent in surprise. What brings him? Why, he came down to Hedrow House to look after certain books and papers and ran over here to make his amend honorable in form. Chet, I hate being apologized to. of course everyone does nevertheless it's good exercise for mr a blair esqa brings into action some muscles of his soul that might otherwise have atrophied from disuse he's the grim-jawed hard-bitted blair of old just the same he made his apology as handsomely as need be i'll bring him down here

the fabric magnate descended from the studio and greeted kent briefly then turned to his host you will excuse me if i ask mr kent to step outside i have some business with him stay here said the artist i'll go back to my studio which he did when a man once declines employment with me said alexander blair to kent i never give him him a second chance. That rule I am going to break. I need your assistance." "'Onard, indeed,' murmured Kent. "'Will you accept the commission?' "'Not if it is like your former offer.' "'It is not. It is bona fide. Someone has been tampering with my son's grave.' "'You mean the grave at Hedgerow House?'

"'Yes. Gansett Jimmer. reports that there are signs of recent digging. It looks as if ghouls had been at work there, with the idea of getting the body and holding it for ransom. They would have had a fine surprise if they had got the coffin out. Because they'd have found no body in it, you mean? Certainly. But suppose they discovered that there were no remains, nothing but a punctured sandbag. Do you see the potentialities of blackmail? "'No.' "'Then you are stupider than I ever took you for,' growled the magnate.

"'Like most things, it depends on the point of view. "'I don't think that you are in any danger of blackmail. "'But if I understand the matter, "'you want your mind relieved of anxiety on the point. "'Very well, I'll take the case.' "'That is settled, then,' said the older man briskly. Now, this being a strictly business deal, we will discuss terms. Oh, there is no room for discussion as to my terms, said Kent easily.

I make them, and you accept them, that's all. Alexander Blair's eyebrows drew down in a heavy scowl. Do you know of an old lady named Orkut in Analaka? Pursued the scientist. No. She owns the high. house just next to Anilaka churchyard, where your son was buried as Jane Doe. She is a very worthy old lady, but she suffers severely from asthma. In fact, it keeps her awake most of the night.

So some interested persons have subscribed money and sent herself to a sanatorium. I'd like to get you interested in her case. You wish me to subscribe? Oh, more than. that, I think it would be a good idea if you were to assume the entire expense of the proceedings. You mean reimburse the subscribers? Exactly. For a few seconds the millionaire studied Kent's candid face. Very well, he agreed. How much?

Sheriff Schlager can tell you. He is keeping the accounts. You see, it was necessary to get her out of the way. way. Her windows overlook the churchyard. So you took occasion to indicate before. Repetition of a really relevant point is excusable. She left two weeks ago, very much mystified, but pathetically thankful, poor old girl. She has no monopoly on being mystified, observed Mr. Blair with pursed lips. Probably she never will understand. That's where you have the advantage of her, for I think you'll see quite clearly

the reason for her trip and the propriety of your footing the bills. Go on! When she was safely out of the way, and no longer overlooking Anilaka churchyard by night from her window, Schlaeger, Adam Bain, and I paid a visit to the place. Technically, what we did there amounts to grave robbery, I suppose. But we covered our tracks well, and I don't think anybody will ever discover what has been done. Well, queried his hearer with twitching jaw. What lay nameless in Anilaca Churchyard, said Kent gravely,

now rests in its own place at Hedgerow House. The marks found by Gantz and Jim were made by us. So your alarm is groundless. But I wish that you might have heard the little prayer made by that simple country lawyer over your son's grave. Once in a while I meet with a really through-and-through good man like Adam Bain, and then I have to reconstruct my whole formula on the average cussedness of human nature. Alexander Blair's clenched hands went to his temples in a singular gesture and dropped again. What interest did Schlager and Bain have in the matter, he added in a low tone?

Why, Schleger had done some dirty work for you, and wanted to even account with his own conscience. As for Bain, we needed a third man we could trust. I asked him and got him. It was no small risk for him. If you felt that his risk is worth some reward, you might— Yes, yes—' interrupted the moment. other eagerly. Do you think a thousand or perhaps more? Kent smiled. By thinking hard, I could think a thousand, he said, but not more, in this case. It wouldn't be safe. Bain might not survive the shock. Thank you very much, Mr. Blair.

And now, said the older man, I am still in the dark as to your interest in the matter. mine why for one thing i dislike to leave any affair unfinished i have the satisfaction of knowing now that this is forever settled and done with besides there was a promise practically a promise as nearer promises i often permit myself to go in a world of accidents errors and uncertainties made to mrs blair is she back from europe She is at Hedgerow House." Blair communed with himself for a time, then said abruptly, "'By the way, do you think your friend Mr. Sedgwick would come over to a pick-up dinner before we leave?' Kent's face lighted up. "'Ask him,' said he heartily, and see.

"'I will as soon as I get home. Good day!' Blair hesitated. He seemed to have difficulty in going and embarrassment in staying. He coughed and cleared his throat, looked over Kent's head and down at his feet, and finally got himself into words. "'Kent,' he blurted, "'I realize now why you won't take my money. I can always buy brains, but I can't buy the bigger, better thing.

It isn't in the market. Thank you.' he caught the scientist's hand in a swift hard grip and strode off down the road chester kent went back into the house with a glow at his heart he shouted upstairs to sedgwick go on with your work frank i want a loaf and invite my soul for an hour where's your reading matter shelf in the corner answered the artist you'll find a few things in your life line, Darwin's origin of species, Leconce, The devil take Darwin, cried Kent impiously. I want bab ballads, or through the looking glass, or something like that, really fit for an aspiring intellect.

Never mind, I'll forage for myself. Three minutes later, he was stretched luxuriously on the die van, with the window shade pulled down, and the big electric-shade. chandelier glowing, immersed in the joyous nonsense of rhyme and reason. The wind alternately shouted profane protests at the window, because it couldn't get in, and then fell silent, waiting for an answer. In one of these lulls, Kent heard footsteps outside. He dropped his book.

The footsteps approached the window. Then the gale rose again, and the loose end of a garment flashed. softly against the glass. He half rose, listening. There was silence outside. Have I fallen into another mystery? groaned Kent. Is there no rest for the weary? The footsteps mounted the side porch. Kent awaited a knock. None came. Odd, he observed to his pillow. Few people find the outside of a door so fascinating that they stand for two minutes in a wet gale admiring it. Tiptoeing to the door, he threw it open.

There was a startled cry from without and an equally startled grunt from within. Chester Kent and Marjorie Blair stood face to face. I beg your pardon, gibbered Kent, whelmed instantly in a morass of embarrassment. I-I didn't mean to fright. you." Feminine-wise, she built up her self-possession on the ruins of his. "'I wonder,' she said with a smile, "'whether I'm the worst frightened one of us.' "'You see,' he said lamely, "'it was so sudden you're coming that way. I didn't expect you.'

"'And for that reason you intend to bar me from the house?' "'It's quite disgustingly wet. out here. With a muttered apology, Kent stepped aside, and she entered. Even amid his ill-ease he could not but note how the girlish loveliness had ripened and warmed, yet without forfeiting anything of that quaint, appealing wistfulness, which made her charm unique. But they're glinted now in her deep eyes an elfish spirit of mischief, partly inspired by the confusion of the helpless male creature before her, partly the reaction from the mingled dread and desire of the prospective meeting with Sedgwick, for she had come on a sudden uncontrollable impulse to see him,

and would have turned and fled at the last minute, had not Kent surprised her. Perhaps there was a little flavor of revenge for this, too, in her attitude toward him. what a surprise to find you here mrs kent she remarked sweetly or are you calling yourself mr blair nowadays and how is your poor ear chester kent immediately seized that unoffending member and clung to it with much the lost and anguished expression of the pale martyr in the once popular rock of ages chromo his tormentor considered him with malicious eyes did any woman ever say boo to him suddenly i wonder she mused aloud like a saving grace there came into kent's mind a fragment of the hunting of the snark in which he had just been revelling said he gravely he would answer to hi or to any loud cry such as fry me or fritter my wig she caught up the stanza to what you may call him or what's his name but especially thingam-a-jig so you know lewis carroll how really human of you it is better to be humane than human murmured kent relinquishing his oral grip as he began to touch bottom is that a plea very well i shall be very gentle and soothing

but oh she burst out irrepressibly may the kindly fates give me to be among those present when you fall in love kent favored her with an elaborate bow your presence would be the one essential really she approved you're progressing i begin to feel repaid for my visit already this time kent looked her in the eye you're not very demanding in the matter of returns for your trouble he remarked to come through all this wind and rain and then be content merely to contemplate the outside of a door that argument a humble spirit. To be sure, however, it's a very good door, one of the most interesting features of our local architecture, and may lead to all sorts of things. It was her turn to grow red. You haven't asked me about Sedgwick, he continued. Is he well, she inquired formally, but with quickened breath. He is more than that. he is cured and a man a man he added meaningly for any woman to be proud of there was a step on the floor above marjorie blair's hand went to her heart

i didn't know he was here she panted affrightedly i came just to look at the place then i saw the light and i wanted so to come in but i didn't dare i came just to look at the place then i saw the light and i wanted so to come in but i didn't dare i didn't dare i came just to look at the place i came and i can't see him now. I must go. Don't tell. Chester Kent raised his voice. Frank, he called. Come down here, quick. Not twice in his life had Sedgwick heard that tone in his friend's voice. The bungalow shook to his long tread across the floor. The studio door opened and flew shut behind him. He took the stairs at a leap, and on the landing stopped dead.

dead. Marjorie, he whispered. She shrank back a little from the light in his eyes. What do you do here? He said very low. Still, she did not speak, but stood tremulous, her face half panic, half passion. Unobtrusively Kent slid along the wall like a shadow and vanished into the night. Where have you been?

asked the woman of his love. Everywhere, nowhere, what does it matter? she faltered. I've come back. He went forward and took her hands in his. Cold little hands that clung as they touched. Why did you never write me? he asked gently. I don't know. I couldn't. Don't ask me to explain.

It was just that I felt I must have. come back to see you as I had come to you first, unexpected and without a word. Can you understand? No, he said. No, I suppose not. A man couldn't. Good God, he burst out. Do you realize what it is to live in such a hell of uncertainty and longing as I've lived in since you left? To wait and hope and lose hope? And hope and wait again for a word that never comes? To eat your heart out with waiting? A slow, wonderful smile trembled on her lips. My dear, she said, I have waited for you all my life.

Suddenly her arms were around him. Her cheek was pressed to his own. The breath of her whisper was at his ear. Oh, forgive me, I will make it up. to you, my dear, my dearest. Out in the wind and the rain, Chester Kent drew in the deep breath of satisfied and rounded achievement.

He had beheld, against the wide window-shade, two shadows, which, standing motionless for a moment, a few feet apart, had drawn slowly together as by some irresistible magnetism, and suddenly merged into one. The unintentional eavesdropper nodded in grave gratulation to the house, then turned away.

Finished, he said, Se conclude, finie, telo, das end, and any or all other words of whatever language, meaning a sound conclusion. Half an hour later he entered, with due preliminary stamping of mud from clogged feet, instantly marjorie went over to him why you're wet as a rag she cried with a sweetly unconscious assumption of proprietary interest you must go and change at once she added patting his shoulder kent reached for his ear changed his mind midway and scratched his nose all right he said meekly over his rather sternest he turned his ear over his rather sternest he had set face there came a singularly winning smile. You too, he said, that's as it should be. That's worth everything.

No other congratulations will ever sound so good as that, Chet, said Sedgwick in a low voice, or so unselfish. You've had all the heat and toil of the great game, and I have all the happiness. Not quite all, I fancy, returned Kent, smiling at Marjorie. She took his wet hand between her own. But it doesn't seem quite fair, she protested. Frank and I have found each other. But you who have fought our battle for us so splendidly,

what reward do you have? Chester Kent shook his head. My dear, he said gently, The great game isn't played for prizes. The end. End of Chapter 21. End of The Secret of Lonesome Cove by Samuel Hopkins Adams.