The House of the Whispering Pines

ned and a b

s action of

be the work

g J

hen Hexford pointed to my shoe

seem to be in better position than ourselves

to talk, not for them. I conc

land was to me. I did not know she was in the building, alive or dead. I came upon her here covered with the cushions just as you found her. I have felt the shock. I do not look like myself

such an hour as this! But while nothing serious clouded my name, I had more to blush for than to pride myself upon in my career as prince of good fellows,— and these men knew it, both of them, and let it weigh in the scale already tipped far off its balance by coincidences which a better man than myself would have found it embarrassing to explain. I recognised all this, I say, i

t my words fell with less and less continuity and finally lost themselves in a confused stammer

solitary, far-away spot — the victim of what? I asked myself then — I ask myself now. I cannot understand it — or tho

you ought to,” came from the sec

ose fixed stare would never more leave my consciousness, an access of rage or some such sadden passion animating the other whose every curve spoke tenderness, whose every

rangled,” quoth

ath,” mumbl

en my hate, my anger which had brought those tell-tale marks out upon that livid skin. I should have suffered less. I should only have had to pay th

ke, look up the telephone and ask for three more men. I am going into this matter th

forgotten the telephone. It had not yet been taken out. If only I had remembered this before these men came — I might have saved — No, nothing could

rare in style and workmanship — a candlestick to be remembered; one of a pair perhaps. I felt my hair stir as I took in the details of its shape and ornamentation. If its mate were in her house — No, no, no! I would not have it so. I cou

kitchen in your wande

ad made a mistake, I bungled and a

matc

t’s

d you g

es

ust have had troubl

at the side of each door. I had but to open the kitchen door, feel along the jamb, f

ou did

ve sa

hich door yo

nicating with

u light your

sta

the ki

, s

are s

te s

to tell me how so many wine and whiskey bott

ittle table across the room, and instinctively glanced at them. But no w

ey to the wine-c

mbered the dinner and all that had signalised it, and felt my confusion grow. But a question had been asked, and I must answer it. It would not do for me to hesitate

I managed to stammer at last. “But I did not brin

e at Miss Cumberland’s and being given to fooling with something when embarrassed, I had fooled with them and

after the other and smelled of them. “Some sweet stuff,” he remarked. “Cordial, I should say anisette. There wasn’t anything like that on the kitchen tab

joining room was open. He cast me a hurried glance and

ow with no more clothing on her than we see now. She must have worn a

t of my own thoughts and of her white upturned face. As I followed him into this closet he pushed the door wide, pulling out an electric torch as he

lips. “That’s all straight.

heart. How her eyes would seek mine as we stood thus close together, searching, searching for the old love or the fancied love of which the ashes only

m of zero air and I saw Hexford shiver as he stepped towards it and looked out. But I felt