Genre Mystery & Crime. Page - 2

the powers of nature as were the plants or the animals. When the sun shone they were open-hearted and merry, at evening they became silent, and the night, which seemed to them so all-powerful, robbed them of their strength. And now the green light that fell through the reeds and drew out from the water strips of gold, brown, and black-green, smoothed them into a sort of magic mood. They were completely shut out from the outer world. The reeds swayed gently in the soft wind, the rushes murmured,

--just enough to have made Connery believe, at first, that probably he had seen the man meeting some passenger at the station."You are--" Connery ventured more casually. "In private employ; yes, sir," the man cut off quickly. Then Connery knew him; it was when Gabriel Warden traveled on Connery's train that the conductor had seen this chauffeur; this was Patrick Corboy, who had driven Warden the night he was killed. But Connery, having won his point, knew better than to show

dozen times. Folding the paper into minute dimensionshe tucked it carefully inside his vest pocket and glanced sidewaysat Clymer. The banker hardly noticed his uneasy movements as hesat regarding Helen McIntyre standing in the witness box. Althoughpaler than usual, the girl's manner was quiet, but Clymer, a closestudent of human nature, decided she was keeping her composure bywill power alone, and his interest grew.The Judge, from the Bench, was also regarding the handsome witnessand the

ice was sharpened as from anxiety. "Won't you come and see him about the petrol?"He looked at her curiously. The smile had gone from her lips, and her face was pale. She was frowning, and in her eyes there showed unmistakable fear. She was not looking at him, and his gaze followed the direction of hers. The driver had come out of the shed, the same dark, aquiline-featured man as had passed him on the bridge. He had stopped and was staring at Merriman with an intense regard in which

rtainly, sir. The page is off duty. He sees to orders in the lounge, but I'll attend to you myself.""What a hotel!" thought the murderer, solitary in the chilly lounge, and gave a glance down the long passage. "Is the whole place run by the hall-porter? But of course it's the dead season." Was it conceivable that nobody had heard the sound of the shot? Harder had a strong impulse to run away. But no! To do so would be highly dangerous. He restrained himself. "How

s life. He might go on now and become a bad man, or he might cheapen and become an imitation desperado. In either event, his third man left him still more confident. His courage and his skill in weapons gave him assuredness and ease at the time of an encounter. He was now becoming a specialist. Time did the rest, until at length they buried him.The bad man of genuine sort rarely looked the part assigned to him in the popular imagination. The long-haired blusterer, adorned with a dialect that

at he was in the hands of the police. Garth noticed also as he entered the car that the passengers were not aware of the substitution. He resented the repugnance in the glances they turned on the mask. Simmons' attitude toward life became comprehensible. But, as the journey extended itself interminably, Garth grew restless. He realized he was in the position of a man entering a cavern without a light. He must feel his way step by step. He must walk blindly toward innumerable and fatal