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The Blue Wall

Chapter 7 A SHADOW ON THE CURTAIN

Word Count: 2794    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

Why? Because the very manner of narration is indicative of the man's character. He belongs to the dry, dessicated, and abominably respectable class of our society. Pah! I have no patience with the

is handsome face when he mentioned the name of Estabrook. Why, even the menace to his beautiful Julianna was not quite sufficient to cause this egotist to forget his duties toward himse

bedroom wall, about MacMechem's notes on the case, the game of life and death I was playing, my conversation with the old servant, and for full measure, I told him where I

and, clasping his hands behind his back, in the

o fear. And it strikes me that, though my own experience has been bizarre enough, your observations and that of this other doct

ment may not find them at once. But the first thing to recognize is the one important fact; neither of us doubts that your wife is in some grave danger. Personally

e heard me, but after a moment he

t it would mean pu

" I argued, feeling cert

aloud, but neverthele

aned. "I've given he

owed myself in my rage to be all three. It was to no purpose. Estabrook would not consent to tearing

vexation. "The death of your wife ma

e only living soul to whom I have confessed the presence of a skeleton in my married life, and I want you to help me.

t disagree

, is Margaret Murchie

t of

onceal her excitement, how she treated me as a spy, how guilty she seemed, and you have

am sure that she knows. But what

low," I said

nds and sprang out

f chagrin. "I've been under a strain, I suppos

er nip of the brandy. I prescribe it for you.

ha

se," I

at me with

years. I have punched you in the neck. You are now my patient and my guest. You have confided in me. You have made an unconscious appeal to me

iled sourly,

ubbornness. We cannot expect to go to her to obtain information. I have lived in the house with her for more than six years. Can I say whether she is a saint or a crafty villainess? No. I kn

ld of turbulence and mystery, let us be turbulent and mysterious. All that

o induce he

g your hand over her mouth and struggling with her, while we take her out. Personally I prefer a cone containing the

ul Estabrook

he doubtfully. "Do you plan

uarantee that she will tell all she knows. I cannot ask my chauffeur to go with me, for I tr

l being blown slantwise across the foggy radiance of the arc lights. There is a trace of the criminal in me. Perhaps all men feel it at times. Just t

he wet cobblestones and bending our shoulders to the drive of the cold rain, we had groped through the black alley

You are always wanting to see your way to the end. And the way there oft

eevishly; "but since you are satisfied, I will be, too. If I understand your plan, however, w

of gasoline, swore, and forgot to submit my new chauffeur to the inspection of his fir

did not wish undue attention attracted to our course. The windows in front of me and to the right and left were covered with streaks of water and fogged with the smoke of my cigarettes which, in my pleasurable excitement, I smoked one after the other; therefore everything outside-the spots of light which lengthened into streaks, the shadows, the other vehicles, the glaring fronts of theatres in Fe

the first time, seriously, that I had no assur

ife I realized the feeling of uncertainty about a physician's diagnosis which a patient must endure. A doctor delivers his opinion as a matter of self-assertion; the layman receives it as a matter of self-preservation. Riding in that flying car, I found myself in both posi

ide of the blue wall," I thought, with a twinge of the superstitious fear w

h the glass and over Estabrook's broad shoulders,

e lives," said I to myself

out into the swash of the rain. "Frankly, I har

ering. "I'm afraid I'm a poor assistant f

warmer," I said, clapping him on the

ute?" he repea

s', if you don't

movement water ran from him as from a squeezed sponge. "Oh, I forgot your patient,"

up the Marburys' steps; indeed, that night taught me ho

he window in her night vigil, watch

?" sa

de has

r stony, expressionless face. The Sphi

do you

pered. "I supposed that was why

fought with disease not only, as in a common struggle, with carnivorous D

ead!" I said,

ged the coldne

. "She is goin

wled, under my breat

," she answere

rting up the stair

rays were changed to a pink, reflected on the wall, sending their rosy lights into the depths of that bottomless blue; the breaking of a clear

eeping quietly, her innocent face turned a little toward me and in the faint, illusive smile at her mouth, and in the relaxation of her beautiful hands, I read the confi

d the bony nurse when I h

nary rally the child had made. That was her way; she always invited

gain. "A relapse might be fa

" she said as she tu

treatment till then must

ws?" she

a sharp jump of my thoughts, wondering how we were to accomplish the work we had come to do. I descended, however, and when I had reached the door of my limousine, I

said to me. "Lo

glance over my shoulder, I saw a shadow on the curtain-the shadow of a figu

e?" I asked in

don't know," he said. "It looks-its motions, its attitudes, its

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