The Case of Jennie Brice

room that I had made into a temporary kitchen, with a candle, and with a bedquilt around my shoulders. The water rose fast in the lower hall, but by midnight, at the seve

ew hours' sleep. I think I had been sleeping only an hour or so, when some one t

, Mrs. Pitman," he said. "They

ggested. "That dog is always

an row a boat," sai

was a minute or so after two o'clock as we left the room. The boat was gone, not untied, but cut loose. Th

f the house catches fir

urb the Ladleys. "I've been awake, and I heard no boat come in. And yet, if no

sit there in the darkness on the stairs, with the arch of the front door like the entrance to a cavern, and see now and t

ly nothing worse the matter than some drunken mill-hand on a

he cold. The water, driven in by the wind, swirled at my feet. And something dark floated in and lodged on the step below. I reached down and

soon, and reported the

ne of the third-floor rooms," h

ywhere, and the door might have blown shut, we d

lighted and my door open. I did not sleep: the dead cat was on my mind, and, as if it were not bad enough to have it washed in at my feet,

ccasional crunch of one ice-cake hitting another in the yard, everything

r. But he was sleeping soundly. Peter snarled and ran out into the hall, and the nex

trying to tie it to the staircase. The rope was short, having been cut, and he was h

said, civilly enough. "Mrs. Ladley was n

two hours going to th

went into his room. He closed and locked the door behind him,

really ill. I knocked at the door, and asked if I could do anything. But he only

and I knew the danger was over. Peter came, shivering, at dawn, and got on to the sofa with me

ct, and to having to take impudence from everybody who chose to rent a room from me, and to being called a she-devil. From that I got to thinking again about the Ladleys

e was a tall man of about fifty, neat and orderly in his habits, and he

n," he said. "I'll get a cup of coffee at the other end of

I heard him push off from the stairs with an oar and r

and called to me: "Just bring in a cup of cof

ime. He opened the door just wide enough for the tray, and took it without so much as a "thank you." He had a

oor, so he could not quite close it. It smelled to me as if he had accidental

Mrs. Ladley?

he was ill

he wasn't very si

bring her

ordered. "No. She doesn't

t h

ing to make such a fuss about? The Lord knows I'd be

an my hous

the neighborhood. Your house is all that could be desired for the money. If we

r, or it was dying away: I took my foot away fro

early. I rowed her

he looked horrible. There were lines around his eyes

er," he said, licking his lips and looking pas

t although Mr. Ladley had been as fond of the animal as it was in his nature to be fond of anything, he paid no attention. As I started down the hall after

picked it up and looked at it-a black one with a beaded toe, short in the vamp and high-heeled

u want now?" he calle

ley's," I said. "Peter found

er, much better than when Mrs. Ladley was about. He looked at the sli

r wear it a h

with the water. Throw it out. And, by the way, I'm sorry, but I set fire to one of the

d no slip, and the ticking cover had a scorc

d there's a sign nailed on the door that forbids smoking in bed. If

. "Is there any sign on the door saying that boarders are c

ith my boarders. I took the pillow and the slipper and went out. The telephon

gone away

ou mean? M

ion," I replied. "She isn't

a hum of conversation from the other end,

ut where Miss B

ll

and knocked. Mr. Ladley

asking where M

arled, and shut the door. I too

swore and hung

re was no sound from the Ladleys' room, and the house was quiet, except for

t, carrying his little cold body, and after that I was good for nothing. I went and sat with Peter on the stairs. The dog's conduct ha

into the water came to me as I sat there. All at once I seemed to see it all: the quarreling the day before, the night trip

ack at half past eleven,

stairs, "I hope you've

he asked, not

treets. You've had

poke to the dog. "Good morning, Peter," he s

d when he came back I heard him wheezing. But what he brought back was not the stick of wood. It was the knife I use for cutting bread. It had been on a shelf in

bed and painted, in Molly Maguire's kitchen next door. And perhaps now and then a bit of luck would come to me-a dog kennel or a chicken-house, or a kitchen table, or even, as

e I was using up-stairs the night before, and hadn't touched it since

aid in his impudent Irish way. "I hate to g

through the window at the top of the stairs, and shining on the rope that was tied to the

me back for me in a half-hour." Then I turned and went up-stairs, weak in the knees