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THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
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^^The black pile Is mine, the gay pile Is yours,” she went 
 on, turning toward the sleeping girl 
 
 {Page 47 ) 
 
THE HOLLOW 
 OF HER HAND 
 
 By 
 
 GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 GRAUSTARK, TRUXTON KING, ETC. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 A. 1. KELLER 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
Copyright, 1912 
 
 By GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON 
 Copyright, 1912 
 
 By DODD. MEAD AND COMPANY 
 
 Published^ September, 1919 
 
4jaK44:'/ICX0BY books (#> Ja S' 
 
 o 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I 
 
 March Comes In Like the Lion 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 II 
 
 The Passing of a Night 
 
 
 
 
 . 24 f 
 
 III 
 
 Hetty Castleton 
 
 
 
 
 . 48 
 
 IV 
 
 While the Mob Waited 
 
 
 
 
 . 66 
 
 ^ V 
 
 Discussing a Sister-in-Law . 
 
 
 
 
 . 85 
 
 VI 
 
 SOUTHLOOK 
 
 
 
 
 . 102 
 
 VII 
 
 A Faithful Crayon-point . 
 
 
 
 
 . 120 
 
 VIII 
 
 In Which Hetty is Weighed 
 
 
 
 
 . 137 
 
 IX 
 
 Hawkright’s Model . 
 
 
 
 
 . 151 
 
 X 
 
 The Ghost at the Feast 
 
 
 
 
 . 168 
 
 XI 
 
 Man Proposes .... 
 
 
 
 
 . 187 
 
 XII 
 
 The Approach of a Man Named Smith 
 
 . 204 
 
 XIII 
 
 Mr. Wrandall Perjures Himself 
 
 
 
 . 220 
 
 XIV 
 
 In the Shadow of the Mill 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 . 233 
 
 XV 
 
 Sara Wrandall Finds the Truth 
 
 
 
 . 247 
 
 XVI 
 
 The Second Encounter 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 . 265 
 
 XVII 
 
 Crossing the Channel . 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 . 280 
 
 XVIII 
 
 Rattling Old Bones 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 . 299 
 
 XIX 
 
 Vivian Airs Her Opinions . 
 
 
 
 
 . 317 
 
 XX 
 
 Once More at Burton’s Inn 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 . 332 
 
 XXI 
 
 Disturbing News .... 
 
 
 
 
 . 346 
 
 XXII 
 
 The Hollow of Her Hand . 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 . 361 
 
 XXIII 
 
 Sara Wrandall’s Decision . 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 . 380 
 
 XXIV 
 
 The Jury of Four 
 
 
 
 
 . S 95 
 
 XXV 
 
 Renunciation .... 
 
 
 
 
 . 41S 
 
/ 
 
 7 '. 
 
THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 MARCH COMES IN LIKE THE LION 
 
 The train, which had roared through a withering gak 
 of sleet all the way up from New York, came to a stand- 
 still, with many an ear-splitting sigh, alongside the 
 little station, and a reluctant porter opened his vesti- 
 bule door to descend to the snow-swept platform: a 
 solitary passenger had reached the journey’s end. The 
 swirl of snow and sleet screaming out of the blackness 
 at the end of the station-building enveloped the porter 
 in an instant, and cut his ears and neck with stinging 
 force as he turned his back against the gale. A pair of 
 lonely, half-obscured platform lights gleamed fatuously 
 at the top of their icy posts at each end of the station ; 
 two or three frost-encrusted windows glowed dully in 
 the side of the building, while one shone brightly where 
 the operator sat waiting for the passing of No. 33. 
 
 The train itself was dark. Frosty windows, pelted 
 for miles by the furious gale, white outside but black 
 within, protected the snug travellers who slept the sleep 
 of the hurried and thought not of the storm that beat 
 about their ears nor wondered at the stopping of the 
 fast express at a place where it had never stopped be- 
 fore. Far ahead the panting engine shed from its open 
 fire-box an aureole of glaring red as the stoker fed coal 
 into its rapacious maw. The unblinking head-light 
 threw its rays into the thick of the blinding snow storm, 
 fruitlessly searching for the rails through drifts denser 
 than fog and filled with strange, half-visible shapes. 
 
 An order had been issued for the stopping of the fast 
 express at B , a noteworthy concession in these 
 
4 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 You have been most kind. I did not expect you to meet 
 me.” 
 
 I took the liberty of telephoning to you. It was 
 well that I did it early in the evening. The wires are 
 down now, I fear.” He hesitated for a moment, star- 
 ing at her as if trying to penetrate the thick, wet veil. 
 
 I may have brought you on a fool’s errand. You 
 see, I — • I have seen Mr. Wrandall but once, in town 
 somewhere, and I may be wrong. Still, the coroner, 
 — and the sheriff, — seemed to think you should be no- 
 tified, — I might say questioned. That is why I called 
 you up. I trust, madam, that I am mistaken.” 
 
 Yes,” she said shrilly, betraying the intensity of 
 her emotion. It was as if she lacked the power to utter 
 more than a single word, which signified neither acqui- 
 escence nor approval. 
 
 He was ill-at-ease, distressed. I have engaged a 
 room for you at the inn, Mrs. Wrandall. You did not 
 bring a maid, I see. My wife will come over from our 
 place to stay with you if you — ” 
 
 She shook her head. Thank you, Mr. Drake. It 
 will not be necessary. I came alone by choice. I shall 
 return to New York to-night.” 
 
 “ But you — why, you can’t do that,” he cried, hold- 
 ing back as they started toward the door. No trains 
 stop here after ten o’clock. The locals begin running 
 at seven in the morning. Besides — ” 
 
 She interrupted him. May we not start now, Mr. 
 Drake I am — well, you must see that I am suffer- 
 ing. I must see, I must know. The suspense — ” 
 She did not complete the sentence, but hurried past 
 him to the door, throwing it open and bending her body 
 to the gust that burst in upon them. 
 
 He sprang after her, grasping her arm to lead her 
 
MARCH COMES IN LIKE THE LION 5 
 
 across tlie icy platform to the automobile that stood in 
 the lee of the building. 
 
 Disdaining his command to enter the tonneau, she 
 stood beside the car and waited until he cranked it 
 and took his place at the wheel. Then she took her 
 seat beside him and permitted him to tuck the great 
 buffalo robe about her. No word was spoken. The 
 man was a stranger to her. She forgot his presence 
 in the car. 
 
 Into the thick of the storm the motor chugged. 
 Grim and silent, the man at the wheel, ungoggled and 
 tense, sent the whirring thing swiftly over the track- 
 less village street and out upon the open country road. 
 The woman closed her eyes and waited. 
 
 You would know the month was March. He said: 
 
 It comes in like a lion,” but apparently the storm 
 swallowed the words for she made no response to them. 
 
 They crossed the valley and crept up the tree-cov- 
 ered hill, where the force of the gale was broken. If 
 she heard him say: ‘‘Fierce, wasn’t it? ” she gave no 
 sign, but sat hunched forward, peering ahead through 
 the snow at the blurred lights that seemed so far away 
 and yet were close at hand. 
 
 “Is that the inn?” she asked as he swerved from 
 the road a few moments later. 
 
 “ Yes, Mrs. Wrandall. We’re here.” 
 
 “ Is — is he in there? ” 
 
 “ Where you see that lighted window upstairs.” He 
 tooted the horn vigorously as he drew up to the long, 
 low porch. Two men dashed out from the doorway 
 and clumsily assisted her from the car. 
 
 “ Go right in, Mrs. Wrandall,” said Drake. “ I 
 will join you in a jiffy.” 
 
 She walked between the two men into the feebly 
 
6 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 lighted office of the inn. The keeper of the place, a 
 dreary looking person with dread in his eyes, hurried 
 forward. She stopped stock-still. Some one was 
 brushing the stubborn, thickly caked snow from her 
 long chinchilla coat. 
 
 You must let me get you something hot to drink, 
 madam,” the landlord was saying dolorously. 
 
 She struggled with her veil, finally tearing it away 
 from her face. Then she took in the rather bare, 
 cheerless room with a slow, puzzled sweep of her eyes. 
 
 No, thank you,” she replied. 
 
 It won’t be any trouble, madam,” urged the other. 
 
 It’s right here. The sheriff says it’s all right to serve 
 it, although it is after hours. I run a respectable, law- 
 abiding house. I wouldn’t think of offering it to any- 
 one if it was in violation — ” 
 
 Never mind. Burton,” interposed a big man, ap- 
 proaching. Let the lady choose for herself. If she 
 wants it, she’ll say so. I am the sheriff, madam. This 
 gentleman is the coroner. Dr. Sheef. We waited up 
 for you after Mr. Drake said you’d got the fast train 
 to stop for you. To-morrow morning would have done 
 quite as well. I’m sorry you came to-night in all this 
 blizzard.’^ 
 
 He was staring as if fascinated at the white, colour- 
 less face of the woman who with nervous fingers un- 
 fastened the heavy coat that enveloped her slender fig- 
 ure. She was young and strikingly beautiful, despite 
 the intense pallor that overspread her face. Her 
 dark, questioning, dreading eyes looked up into his with 
 an expression he was never to forget. It combined 
 dread, horror, doubt and a smouldering anger that 
 seemed to overcast all other emotions that lay revealed 
 to him. 
 
MARCH COMES IN LIKE THE LION 7 
 
 This is a — what is commonly called a ‘ road- 
 house’?” she asked dully, her eyes narrowing sud- 
 denly as if in pain. 
 
 The inn-keeper made haste to resent the implied crit- 
 icism. 
 
 My place is a respectable, law-abiding — ” 
 
 The sheriff waved him aside. 
 
 It is an inn during the winter, Mrs. Wrandall, and 
 a road-house in the summer, if that makes it plain to 
 you. I will say, however, that Burton has always kept 
 well within the law. This is the first — er — real bit 
 of trouble he’s had, and I won’t say it’s his fault. 
 Keep quiet, Burton. No one is accusing you of any- 
 thing wrong. Don’t whine about it.” 
 
 But my place is ruined,” groaned the doleful one. 
 
 It’s got a black eye now. Not that I blame you, 
 madam, but you can see how — ” 
 
 He quailed before the steady look in her eyes, and 
 turned away mumbling. 
 
 There were half a dozen men in the room, besides the 
 speakers, sober-faced fellows who conversed in under- 
 tones and studiously kept their backs to the woman who 
 had just come among them. They were grouped about 
 the roaring fireplace in the lower end of the room. 
 Steam arose from their heavy winters garments. Their 
 caps were still drawn far down over their ears. These 
 were men who had been out in the night. 
 
 There is a fire in the reception-room, madam,” said 
 the coroner ; and the proprietor’s wife to look out for 
 you if you should require anything. Will you go in 
 there and compose yourself before going upstairs? Or, 
 if you would prefer waiting until morning, I shall not 
 insist on the — er — ordeal to-night.” 
 
 I prefer going up there to-night,” said she steadily. 
 
THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 The men looked at each other, and the sheriff spoke. 
 
 Mr. Drake is quite confident the — the man is your 
 husband. IFs an ugly affair, Mrs. Wrandall. We had 
 no means of identifying him until Drake came in this 
 evening, out of curiosity you might say. For your 
 sake, I hope he is mistaken.’’ 
 
 Would you mind telling me something about it be- 
 fore I go upstairs? I am quite calm. I am prepared 
 for anything. You need not hesitate.” 
 
 As you wish, madam. You will go into the recep- 
 tion-room, if you please. Burton, is Mrs. Wrandall’s 
 room quite ready for her ? ” 
 
 I shall not stay here to-night,” interposed Mrs. 
 Wrandall. You need not keep the room for me.” 
 
 But, my dear Mrs. Wrandall — ” 
 
 I shall wait in the railway station until morning if 
 necessary. But not here.” 
 
 The coroner led the way to the cosy little room off the 
 office. She followed with the sheriff. The men looked 
 worn and haggard in the bright light that met them^ as 
 if they had not known sleep or rest for many hours. 
 
 The assistant district attorney was here until 
 eleven, but went home to get a little rest. It’s been a 
 hard case for all of us — a nasty one,” explained the 
 sheriff, as he placed a chair in front of the fire for her. 
 She sank into it limply. 
 
 Go on, please,” she murmured, and shook her head 
 at the nervous little woman who bustled up and in- 
 quired if she could do anything to make her more com- 
 fortable. 
 
 The sheriff cleared his throat. Well, it happened 
 last night. All day long we’ve been trying to find out 
 who he is, and ever since eight o’clock this morning we’ve 
 been searching for the woman who came here with him. 
 
MARCH COMES IN LIKE THE LION 9 
 
 She has disappeared as completely as if swallowed by 
 the earth. Not a sign of a clew — not a shred. 
 There’s nothing to show when she left the inn or by 
 what means. All we know is that the door to that room 
 up there was standing half open when Burton passed 
 by it at seven o’clock this morning — that is to say, yes- 
 terday morning, for this is now Wednesday. It is 
 quite clear, from this, that she neglected to close the 
 door tightly when she came out, probably through 
 haste or fear, and the draft in the hall blew it wider 
 open during the night. Burton says the inn was closed 
 for the night at half-past ten. He went to bed. She 
 must have slipped out after every one was sound asleep. 
 There were no other guests on that floor. Burton and 
 his wife sleep on this floor, and the servants are at the 
 top of the house and in a wing. No one heard a 
 sound. We have not the remotest idea when the 
 thing happened, or when she left the place. Dr. 
 Sheef says the man had been dead for six or eight hours 
 when he first saw him, and that was very soon after 
 Burton’s discovery. Burton, on finding the door open, 
 naturally suspected that his guests had skipped out 
 during the night to avoid paying the bill, and lost no 
 time in entering the room. 
 
 He found the man lying on the bed, sprawled out. 
 face upward and as dead as a mack — I should say, 
 quite dead. He was partly dressed. His coat and 
 vest hung over the back of a chair. A small service 
 carving knife, belonging to the inn, had been driven 
 squarely into his heart and was found sticking there. 
 Burton says that the man, on their arrival at the inn, 
 about nine o’clock at night, ordered supper sent up to 
 the room. The tray of dishes, with most of the food 
 untouched, and an empty champagne bottle, was found 
 
10 
 
 THE HOULOW OF HER HAND 
 
 on the service table near the bed. One of the chairs 
 was overturned. The servant who took the meal to the 
 room says that the woman was sitting at the window 
 with her wraps on, motor veil and all, just as she was 
 when she came into the place. The man gave all the 
 directions, the woman apparently paying no attention 
 to what was going on. The waitress left the room 
 without seeing her face. She had instructions not to 
 come for the tray until morning. 
 
 That was the last time the man was seen alive. 
 No one has seen the woman since the door closed after 
 the servant, who distinctly remembers hearing the key 
 turn in the lock as she went down the hall. It seems 
 pretty clear that the man ate and drank but not the 
 woman. Her food remained untouched on the plate 
 and her glass was full. ’Gad, it must have been a 
 merry feast! I beg your pardon, Mrs. Wrandall! ” 
 
 Go on, please,” said she levelly. 
 
 That’s all there is to say so far as the actual 
 crime is concerned. There were signs of a struggle, — 
 but it isn’t necessary to go into that. Now, as to 
 their arrival at the inn. The blizzard had not set in. 
 Last night was dark, of course, as there is no moon, 
 but it was clear and rather warm for the time of year. 
 The couple came here about nine o’clock in a high 
 power runabout machine, which the man drove. Thoy 
 had no hand-baggage and apparently had run out from 
 New York. Burton says he was on the point of refus- 
 ing them accommodations when the man handed him a 
 hundred dollar bill. It was more than Burton’s cu- 
 pidit}^ could withstand. They did not register. Tlie 
 state license numbers had been removed from the auto- 
 mobile, which was of foreign make. Of course, it was 
 only a question of time until we could have found out 
 
MARCH COMES IN LIKE THE LION 11 
 
 who the car belonged to. It is perfectly obvious why 
 he removed the numbers.” 
 
 At this juncture Drake entered the room. Mrs. 
 Wrandall did not at first recognise him. 
 
 It has stopped snowing,” announced the new- 
 com.er. 
 
 Oh, it is Mr. Drake,” she murmured. We have 
 a little French car, painted red,” she announced to the 
 sheriff without giving Drake another thought. 
 
 And this one is red, madam,” said the sheriff, with 
 a glance at the coroner. Drake nodded his head. 
 Mrs. WrandalPs body stiffened perceptibly, as if de- 
 flecting a blow. It is still standing in the garage, 
 where he left it on his arrival.” 
 
 Did no one see the face of — of the woman? ” asked 
 Mrs. Wrandall, rather querulously. It seems odd 
 that no one should have seen her face,” she went on 
 without waiting for an answer. 
 
 It’s not strange, madam, when you consider all the 
 circumstances. She was very careful not to remove 
 her veil or her coat until the door was locked. That 
 proves that she was not the sort of woman we usually 
 find gallavanting around with men regardless of — 
 ahem, I beg your pardon. This must be very distress- 
 ing to you.” 
 
 I am not sure, Mr. Sheriff, that it is my husband 
 who lies up there. Please remember that,” she said 
 steadily. It is easier to hear the details now, before 
 I know, than it will be afterward if it should turn out 
 to be as Mr. Drake declares.” 
 
 I see,” said the sheriff, marvelling. 
 
 Besides, Mr. Drake is not positive,'*^ put in the 
 coroner hopefully. 
 
 I am reasonably certain,” said Drake. 
 
12 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Then all the more reason why I should have the 
 story first,” said she, with a shiver that no one failed 
 to observe. 
 
 The sheriff resumed his conclusions. Women of 
 the kind I referred to a moment ago don’t care whether 
 they’re seen or not. In fact, they’re rather brazen 
 about it. But this one was different. She was as 
 far from that as it was possible for her to be. We 
 haven’t been able to find any one who saw her face or 
 who can give the least idea as to what she looks like, 
 excepting a general description of her figure, her car- 
 riage, and the out-door garments she wore. We have 
 reason to believe she was young. She was modestly 
 dressed. Her coat was one of those heavy ulster af- 
 fairs, such as a woman uses in motoring or on a sea- 
 voyage. There was a small sable stole about her neck. 
 The skirt was short, and she wore high black shoes of 
 the thick walking type. Judging from Burton’s de- 
 scription she must have been about your size and 
 figure, Mrs. Wrandall. Isn’t that so, Mrs. Burton? ” 
 
 The inn-keeper’s wife spoke. Yes, Mr. Harben, 
 I’d say so myself. About five feet six, I’d judge; 
 rather slim and graceful-like, in spite of the big coat.” 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall was watching the woman’s face. I 
 am five feet six,” she said, as if answering a question. 
 
 The sheriff* cleared his throat somewhat needlessly. 
 
 Burton says she acted as if she were a lady,” he 
 went on. ^^Not the kind that usually comes out here 
 on such expeditions, he admits. She did not speak to 
 any one, except once in very low tones to the man she 
 was with, and then she was standing by the fireplace 
 out in the main office, quite a distance from the desk. 
 She went upstairs alone, and he gave some orders to 
 Burton before following her. That was the last time 
 
MARCH COMES IN LIKE THE LION 13 
 
 Burton saw her. The waitress went up with a spe- 
 cially prepared supper about half an hour later.’’ 
 
 “ It seems quite clear, Mrs. Wrandall, that she 
 robbed the man after stabbing him,” said the coroner. 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall started. Then she was not a lady, 
 after ail,” she said quickly. There was a note of re- 
 lief in her voice. It was as if she had put aside a half- 
 formed conclusion. 
 
 His pockets were empty. Not a penny had been 
 left. Watch, cuff-links, scarf pin, cigarette case, purse 
 and bill folder, — all gone. Burton had seen most of 
 these articles in the office.” 
 
 Isn’t it — but no ! Why should I be the one to 
 offer a suggestion that might be construed as a de- 
 fence for this woman ? ” 
 
 You were about to suggest, madam, that some one 
 else might have taken the valuables — is that it ? ” 
 cried the sheriff. 
 
 “ Had you thought of it, Mr. Sheriff? ” 
 
 I had not. It isn’t reasonable. No one about 
 this place is suspected. We have thought of this, how- 
 ever : the murderess may have taken all of these things 
 away with her in order to prevent immediate identifica- 
 tion of her victim. She may have been clever enough 
 for that. It would give her a start.” 
 
 Not an unreasonable conclusion, when you stop to 
 consider, Mr. Sheriff, that the man took the initiative 
 in that very particular,” said Mrs. Wrandall in such 
 a self-contained way that the three men looked at her 
 in wonder. Then she came abruptly to her feet. It 
 is very late, gentlemen. I am ready to go upstairs, 
 Mr. Sheriff.” 
 
 I must warn you, madam, that Mr. Drake is rea- 
 sonably certain that it is your husband,” said the cor- 
 
THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 oner uncomfortably, You may not be prepared foi 
 the shock that — ” 
 
 I shall not faint. Dr. Sheef. If it is my husband 
 I shall ask you to leave me alone in the room with him 
 for a little while.” The final word trailed out into 
 a long, tremulous wail, showing how near she was to 
 the breaking point in her wonderful effort at self-con- 
 trol. The men looked away hastily. They heard her 
 draw two or three deep, quavering breaths ; they could 
 almost feel the tension that she was exercising over 
 herself. 
 
 The doctor turned after a moment and spoke very 
 gently, but with professional firmness. You must 
 not think of venturing out in this wretched night, 
 madam. It would be the worst kind of folly. Surely 
 you will be guided by me — by your own common 
 sense. Mrs. Burton will be with you — ” 
 
 Thank you. Dr. Sheef,” she interposed calmly. 
 
 If what w^e all fear should turn out to be the truth, 
 I could not stay here. I could not breathe. I could 
 not live. If, on the other hand, Mr. Drake is mis- 
 taken, I shall stay. But if it is my husband, I can- 
 not remain under the same roof with him, even though 
 he be dead. I do not expect you to understand my 
 feelings. It would be asking too much of men, — too 
 much.” 
 
 I think I understand,” murmured Drake. 
 
 Come,” said the sheriflp', arousing himself with an 
 effort. 
 
 She moved swiftly after him. Drake and the coroner, 
 following close behind with Mrs. Burton, could not take 
 their eyes from the slender, graceful figure. She was a 
 revelation to them. Feeling as they did that she was 
 about to be confronted by the most appalling crisis 
 
MARCH COMES IN LIKE THE LION 15 
 
 imaginable, they could not but marvel at her compos- 
 ure. Drake’s mind dwelt on the stories of the guillo- 
 tine and the heroines who w^ent up to it in those bloody 
 days without so much as a quiver of dread. Somehow, 
 to him, this woman was a heroine. 
 
 They passed into the hall and mounted the stairs. 
 At the far end of the corridor, a man was seated in 
 front of a closed door. He arose as the party ap- 
 proached, The sheriff signed for him to open the 
 door he guarded. As he did so, a chilly blast of air 
 blew upon the faces of those in the hall. The curtains 
 in the window of the room were flapping and whipping 
 in the wind. Mrs. Wrandall caught her breath. For 
 the briefest instant, it seemed as though she was on the 
 point of faltering. She dropped farther behind the 
 sheriff, her limbs suddenly stiff, her hand going out to 
 the wall as if for support. The next moment she was 
 moving forward resolutely into the icy, dimly lighted 
 room. 
 
 A single electric light gleamed in the comer beside 
 the bureau. Near the window stood the bed. She 
 went swiftly toward it, her eyes fastened upon the 
 ridge that ran through the centre of it: a still, white 
 ridge that seemed without beginning or end. 
 
 With nervous fingers, the attendant lifted the sheet 
 at the head of the bed and turned it back. As he let 
 it fall across the chest of the dead man, he drew back 
 and turned his face away. 
 
 She bent forward and then straightened her figure 
 to its full height, without for an instant removing her 
 gaze from the face of the man who lay before her: a 
 dark-haired man grey in death, who must have been 
 beautiful to look upon in the flush of life. 
 
 For a long time she stood there looking, as motion- 
 
16 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 less as the object on which she gazed. Behind her were 
 the tense, keen-eyed men, not one of whom seemed to 
 breathe during the grim minutes that passed. The 
 wind howled about the corners of the inn, but no one 
 heard it. They heard the beating of their hearts, 
 even the ticking of their w^atches, but not the wail of 
 the wind. 
 
 At last her hands, claw-like in their tenseness, went 
 slowly to her temples. Her head drooped slightly 
 forward, and a great shudder ran through her body. 
 The coroner started forward, expecting her to col- 
 lapse. 
 
 “ Please go away,” she was saying in an absolutely 
 emotionless voice. Let me stay here alone for a 
 little while.” 
 
 That was all. The men relaxed. They looked at 
 each other with a single question in their eyes. Was 
 it quite safe to leave her alone with her dead? They 
 hesitated. 
 
 She turned on them suddenly, spreading her arms 
 in a wide gesture of self-absolution. Her sombre eyes 
 swept the group. 
 
 I can do no harm. This man is mine. I want to 
 look at him for the last time — alone. Will you go? ” 
 Do you mean, madam, that you intend to — ” be- 
 gan the coroner in alarm. 
 
 She clasped her hands. I mean that I shall take 
 my last look at him now — and here. Then you may 
 do what you like with him. He is your dead — not 
 mine. I do not want him. Can you understand? I 
 do not want this dead thing. But there is something 
 I would say to him, something that I must say. Some- 
 thing that no one must hear but the good God who 
 knows how much he has hurt me. I want to it 
 
MARCH COMES IN LIKE THE LION 17 
 
 close to those grey, horrid ears. Who knows? He 
 may hear me ! ’’ 
 
 Wondering, the others backed from the room. She 
 watched them until they closed the door. 
 
 Listening, they heard her lower the window. It 
 squealed like a thing in fear. 
 
 Ten minutes passed. The group in the hall con- 
 v^ersed in whispers. 
 
 Why did she put the window down?” asked the 
 wife of the inn-keeper, crossing herself. 
 
 Drake shook his head. I wonder what she is say- 
 ing to him,” he muttered. 
 
 A wonderful nerve,” said Dr. Sheef. Positively 
 wonderful. Fve never seen anything like it.” 
 
 Her own husband, too,” said Mrs. Burton. 
 “ Why, I — I should have said she’d go into hysterics. 
 Such a handsome man he was.” 
 
 I guess, from what I’ve heard of this fellow, Wran- 
 dall, he’s not been an angel,” volunteered the sheriff. 
 
 Drake shook his head once more. 
 
 He ain’t one now. I’ll bet on that,” said the man 
 who stood guard. He’s in hell if ever a man — ” 
 
 Sh ! ” whispered the woman in horror. God for- 
 give you for uttering w^ords like that ! ” 
 
 Every one in the city knows what sort of a man 
 he’s been,” said Drake. 
 
 “ He comes of a fine family,” said the coroner. 
 
 One of the best in New York. I guess he’s never been 
 much of a credit to it, how^ever.” 
 
 They say he ran after chorus girls,” said Mrs. 
 Burton. The men grinned. 
 
 I’ve an idea she’s had the devil’s own time with 
 
18 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 him,’’ mused the sheriff, with a jerk of his head in the 
 direction of the door. 
 
 Poor thing,” said the inn-keeper’s wife. 
 
 Well,” said Drake, taking a deep breath, she 
 won’t have to worry any more about his not coming 
 home nights. I say, this business will create a fearful 
 sensation, sheriff. The Four Hundred will have a 
 conniption fit.” 
 
 « We’ve got to land that girl, whoever she is,” grated 
 the official. Now that we know who he is, it shouldn’t 
 be hard to pick out the women he’s been trailing with 
 lately. Then we can sift ’em down until the right one 
 is left. It ought to be easy.” 
 
 I’m not so sure of it,” said the coroner, shaking 
 his head. I have a feeling that she isn’t one of the 
 ordinary type. It wouldn’t surprise me if she belongs 
 to — well, you might say, the upper ten. Somebody’s 
 wife, don’t you see. That will make it rather difficult, 
 especially as her tracks have been pretty well cov- 
 ered.” 
 
 It beats me, how she got away without leaving a 
 single sign behind her,” acknowledged the sheriff. 
 
 She’s a wonder, that’s all I’ve got to say.” 
 
 At that instant the door opened and Mrs. Wrandall 
 appeared. She stopped short, confronting the hud- 
 dled group, dry-eyed but as pallid as a ghost. Her 
 eyes were wide, apparently unseeing ; her colourless Ups 
 were parted in the drawn rigidity that suggested but 
 one thing to the professional man who looks : the rtsis 
 sardonicm of the strychnae victim. With a low cry, 
 the doctor started forward, fully convinced that she 
 had swallowed the deadly drug. 
 
 For God’s sake, madam,” he began. But as he 
 spoke, her expression changed ; she seemed to be aware 
 
MARCH COMES IN LIKE THE LION 19 
 
 of their presence for the first time. Her eyes nar- 
 rowed in a curious manner, and the rigid lips seemed to 
 surge with blood, presenting the effect of a queer, 
 swuft-fading smile that lingered long after her face 
 w^as set and serious. 
 
 I neglected to raise the window. Dr. Sheef,” she 
 said in a low voice. It was very cold in there.” 
 She shivered slightly. Will you be so kind as to 
 tell me what I am to do now? What formalities re- 
 main for me — ” 
 
 The coroner was at her side. Time enough for 
 that, Mrs. Wrandall. The first thing you are to do is 
 to take something warm to drink, and pull yourself to- 
 gether a bit — ” 
 
 She drew herself up coldly. I am quite myself, 
 Dr. Sheef. Pray do not alarm yourself on my account. 
 I shall be obliged to you, however, if you will tell me 
 what I am to do as speedily as possible, and let me do 
 it so that I may leave this — this unhappy place with- 
 out delay. No ! I mean it, sir. I am going to-night 
 \ — unless, of course,” she said, with a quick look at the 
 sheriff, the law stands in the way.” 
 
 “ You are at liberty to come and go as you please, 
 Mrs. Wrandall,” said the sheriff, but it is most fool- 
 hardy to think of — ” 
 
 Thank you, Mr. Sheriff,” she said, for letting 
 me go. I thought perhaps there might be legal re- 
 straint.” She sent a swift glance over her shoulder, 
 and then spoke in a high, shrill voice, indicative of ex- 
 treme dread and uneasiness : 
 
 Close the door to that room ! ” 
 
 The door was standing wide open, just as she had 
 left it. Startled, the coroner’s deputy sprang forward 
 to close it. Involuntarily, all of her listeners looked 
 
m 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 in the direction of the room, as if expecting to see the 
 form of the murdered man advancing upon them. The 
 feeling, swiftly gone, was most uncanny. 
 
 Close it from the inside,'^ commanded the coroner, 
 with unmistakable emphasis. The man hesitated, and 
 then did as he was ordered, but not without a curious 
 look at the wife of the dead man, whose back was to- 
 ward him. 
 
 “ He will not find anything disturbed, doctor,” said 
 she, divining his thought. “ I had the feeling that 
 something was creeping toward us out of that room.” 
 
 “ You have every reason to be nervous, madam. 
 The situation has been most extraordinary, — most 
 trying,” said the coroner. I beg of 3^ou to come down- 
 stairs, where we may attend to a few necessary details 
 without delay. It has been a most fatiguing matter 
 for all of us. Hours without sleep, and such wretched 
 weather.” 
 
 They descended to the warm little reception-room. 
 She sent at once for the inn-keeper, who came in and 
 glowered at her as if she were wholly responsible for 
 the blight that had been put upon his place. 
 
 Will you be good enough to send some one to the 
 station wuth me in your depot wagon? ” she demanded 
 without hesitation. 
 
 He stared. ‘‘ We don’t run a ’bus in the winter 
 time,” he said gruffly. 
 
 She opened the little chatelaine bag that hung from 
 her wrist and abstracted a card which she submitted 
 to the coroner. 
 
 You will find. Dr. Sheef, that the car my husband 
 came up here in belongs to me. This is the card issued 
 by the State. It is in my name. The factory num- 
 ber is there. You may compare it wfith the one on the 
 
MARCH COMES IN LIKE THE LION 21 
 
 2 Sir, My husband took the car without obtaining my 
 consent.” 
 
 ‘^Joy riding,” said Burton, with an ugly laugh. 
 Then he quailed before the look she gave him. 
 
 If no other means is offered. Dr. Sheef, I shall ask 
 you to let me take the car. I am perfectly capable of 
 driving. I have driven it in the country for two sea- 
 sons. All I ask is that some one be directed to go with 
 me to the station. No ! Better than that, if there is 
 some one here who is willing to accompany me to the 
 city, he shall be handsomely paid for going. It is but 
 little more than thirty miles. I refuse to spend the 
 night in this house. That is final.” 
 
 They drew apart to confer, leaving her sitting be- 
 fore the fire, a stark figure that seemed to detach itself 
 entirely from its surroundings and their companion- 
 ship. At last, the coroner came to her side and touched 
 her arm. 
 
 I don’t know what the district attorney and the 
 police will say to it, Mrs. Wrandall, but I shall take it 
 upon myself to deliver the car to you. The sheriff has 
 gone out to compare the numbers. If he finds that the 
 car is yours, he will see to it, with Mr. Drake, that it 
 is made ready for you. I take it that we will have no 
 difficulty in — ” He hesitated, at a loss for words. 
 
 In finding it again in case you need it for evi- 
 dence? ” she supplied. He nodded. I shall make it 
 a point, Dr. Sheef, to present the car to the State after 
 it has served my purpose to-night. I shall not ride in 
 it again.” 
 
 The sheriff has a man who will ride with you to 
 the station or the city, whichever you may elect. Now, 
 may I trouble you to make answer to certain ques- 
 tions I shall write out for you at once? The man is 
 
22 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Challls Wrandall, your husband? You are positive? ^ 
 
 I am positive. He is — or was — Challis Wran- 
 dall.’’ 
 
 Half an hour later, she was ready for the trip to 
 New York City. The clock in the office marked the 
 hour as one. A toddied individual in a great buffalo 
 coat waited for her outside, hiccoughing and bandying 
 jest with the half-frozen men who had spent the night 
 with him in the forlorn hope of finding the girl. 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall gave final Instructions to the coroner 
 and his deputy, who happened to be the undertaker’s 
 assistant. She had answered all the questions that 
 had been put to her, and had signed the document with 
 a firm, untrembling hand. Her veil had been lowered 
 since the beginning of the examination. They did not 
 see her face ; they only heard the calm, low voice, sweet 
 with fatigue and dread. 
 
 I shall notify my brother-in-law as soon as I reach 
 the city,” she said. He will attend to everything. 
 Mr. Leslie Wrandall, I mean. My husband’s only 
 brother. He will be here in the morning, Dr. Sheef. 
 My own apartment is not open. I have been staying 
 in a hotel since my return from Europe two days ago. 
 But I shall attend to the opening of the place to-mor- 
 row. You will find me there.” 
 
 The coroner hesitated a moment before putting the 
 question that had come to his mind as she spoke. 
 
 “ Two days ago, madam? May I inquire where your 
 husband has been living during your absence abroad? 
 When did you last see him alive ? ” 
 
 She did not reply for many seconds, and then it was 
 with a perceptible effort. 
 
 I have not seen him since my return until — to- 
 night,” she replied, a hoarse note creeping into her 
 
MARCH COMES IN LIKE THE LION 23 
 
 voice. He did not meet me on my return. His 
 brother Leslie came to the dock. He — he said that 
 Challis, who came back from Europe two weeks ahead 
 of me, had been called to St. Louis on very important 
 business. My husband had been living at his club, I 
 understand. That is all I can tell you, sir.’’ 
 
 I see,” said the coroner gently. 
 
 He opened the door for her and she passed out. A 
 number of men were grouped about the throbbing mo- 
 tor-car, They fell away as she approached, silently 
 fading into the shadows like so many vast, unwholesome 
 ghosts. The sheriff and Drake came forward. 
 
 This man will go with you, madam,” said the sheriff, 
 pointing to an unsteady figure beside the machine. 
 
 He is the only one who will undertake it. They’re all 
 played out, you see. He has been drinking, but only 
 on account of the hardships he has undergone to-night. 
 You will be quite safe with Morley.” 
 
 No snow was falling, but a bleak wind blew meanly. 
 The air was free from particles of sleet; wetly the fall 
 of the night clung to the earth where it had fallen. 
 
 If he will guide me to the Post-road, that is all I 
 ask,” said she hurriedly. Involuntarily she glanced 
 upward. The curtains in an upstairs window were 
 blowing inward and a dim light shone out upon the roof 
 of the porch. She shuddered and then climbed up to 
 the seat and took her place at the wheel. 
 
 A few moments later, the three men standing in the 
 middle of the road watched the car as it rushed away. 
 
 By George, she’s a wonder ! ” said ^he sheriff. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THE PASSING OF A NIGHT 
 
 The sheriff was right. Sara Wrandall was an ex- 
 traordinary woman, if I may be permitted to modify 
 his rather crude estimate of her. It is difficult to un- 
 derstand, much less to describe a nature like hers. 
 Fine-minded, gently bred women who can go through 
 an ordeal such as she experienced without breaking un- 
 der the strain are rare indeed. They must be wonder- 
 ful. It is hard to imagine a more heart-breaking crisis 
 in life than the one which confronted her on this dread- 
 ful night, and yet she had faced it with a fortitude that 
 seems almost unholy. 
 
 She had loved her handsome, wayward husband. He 
 had hurt her deeply more times than she chose to re- 
 member during the six years of their married life, bat 
 she had loved him in spite of the wounds up to the in- 
 stant when she stood beside his dead body in the cold 
 little room at Burton’s Inn. She went there loving him 
 as he had lived, yet prepared, almost foresworn, to 
 loathe him as he had died, and she left him lying there 
 alone in that dreary room without a spark of the old 
 affection in her soul. Her love for him died in giving 
 birth to the hatred that now possessed her. While 
 he lived it was not in her power to control the unrea- 
 soning resistless thing that stands for love in woman: 
 he was her love, the master of her impulses. Dead, he 
 was an unwholesome, unlovely clod, a pallid thing to be 
 scorned, a hulk of worthless clay. His blood was cold. 
 He could no longer warm her with it ; it could no longer 
 kill the chill that his misdeeds cast about her tender 
 
 24 
 
THE PASSING OF A NIGHT 
 
 25 
 
 sensitiveness ; his lips and eyes never more could smile 
 and conquer. He was a dead thing. Her love was a 
 dead thing. They lay separate and apart. The tie 
 was broken. With love died the final spark of respect 
 she had left for him in her tired, loyal, betrayed heart. 
 He was at last a thing to be despised, even by her. 
 She despised him. 
 
 She sent the car down the slope and across the moon- 
 less valley with small regard for her own or her com- 
 panion’s safety. It swerved from side to side, skidded 
 and leaped with terrifying suddenness, but held its way 
 as straight as the bird that flies, driven by a steady 
 hand and a mind that had no thought for peril. A so- 
 ber man at her side would have been afraid ; this man 
 swayed mildly to and fro and chuckled with drunken 
 glee. 
 
 Her bitter thoughts were not of the dead man back 
 there, but of the live years that she was to bury with 
 him : years that would never pass beyond her ken, that 
 would never die. He had loved her in his wild, ruthless 
 way. He had left her times without number in the 
 years gone by, but he had always come back, gaily un- 
 chastened, to remould the love that waited with dog- 
 like fidelity for the touch of his cunning hand. But 
 he had taken his last flight. He would not come back 
 again. It was all over. Once too often he had tried 
 his reckless wings. She would not have to forgive 
 him again. Uppermost in her mind was the curiously 
 restful thought that his troubles were over, and with 
 them her own. A hand less forgiving than hers had 
 struck him dead. 
 
 Somehow, she envied the woman to whom that hand 
 belonged. It had been her divine right to kill, and yet 
 another took it from her. 
 
26 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Back there at the inn she had said to the astonished 
 sheriff : 
 
 Poor thing, if she can escape punishment for this, 
 let it be so. I shall not help the law to kill her simply 
 because she took it in her own hands to pay that man 
 what she owed him. I shall not be the one to say that 
 he did not deserve death at her hands, whoever she 
 may be. No, I shall offer no reward. If you catch 
 her, I shall be sorry for her, Mr. Sheriff. Believe me, 
 I bear her no grudge.” 
 
 “ But she robbed him,” the sheriff had cried. 
 
 From my point of view, Mr. Sheriff, that hasn’t 
 anything to do with the case,” was her significant 
 reply. 
 
 Of course, I am not defending 
 
 Nor am I defending her,” she had retorted. It 
 would appear that she is able to defend herself.” 
 
 Now, on the cold, trackless road, she was saying to 
 herself that she did have a grudge against the woman 
 who had destroyed the life that belonged to her, who 
 had killed the thing that was hers to kill. She could 
 not mourn for him. She could only wonder what the 
 poor, hunted terrified creature would do when taken and 
 made to pay for the thing she had done. 
 
 Once, in the course of her bitter reflections, she 
 spoke aloud in a shrill, tense voice, forgetful of the 
 presence of the man beside her: 
 
 Thank God, they will see him now as I have seen 
 him all these years. They will know him as they have 
 never known him. Thank God for that ! ” 
 
 The man looked at her stupidly and muttered some- 
 thing under his breath. She heard him, and recalling 
 her wits, asked which turn she was to take for the sta- 
 
THE PASSING OF A NIGHT 27 
 
 tion. The fellow lopped back in the seat, too drunk 
 to reply. 
 
 For a moment she was dismayed, frightened. Then 
 she resolutely reached out and shook him by the shoul- 
 der. She had brought the car to a full stop. 
 
 Arouse yourself, man ! ” she cried. Do you want 
 to freeze to death? Where is the station? ’’ 
 
 He straightened up with an effort, and, after vainly 
 seeking light in the darkness, fell back again with a 
 grunt, but managed to wave his hand toward the left. 
 She took the chance. In five minutes she brought the 
 car to a standstill beside the station. Through the 
 window she saw a man with his feet cocked high, read- 
 ing. He leaped to his feet in amazement as she entered 
 the waiting-room. 
 
 Are you the agent? ’’ she demanded. 
 
 No, ma’am. I’m simply stayin’ here for the 
 sheriff. We’re lookin’ for a woman — Say!” He 
 stopped short and stared at the veiled face with wide, 
 excited eyes. Gee whiz ! Maybe you — ” 
 
 No, I am not the woman you want. Do you know 
 anything about the trains ? ” 
 
 I guess I’ll telephone to the sheriff before I — ” 
 
 If you will step outside you will find one of the 
 sheriff’s deputies in my automobile, helplessly intoxi- 
 cated. I am Mrs. Wrandall.” 
 
 Oh,” he gasped. I heard ’em say you were com- 
 ing up to-night. Well, say! What do you think 
 of—” 
 
 Is there a train in before morning? ” 
 
 No ma’am. Seven-forty is the first.” 
 
 She waited a moment. Then I shall have to ask 
 you to come out and get your fellow-deputy. He is 
 
28 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 useless to me. I mean to go on in the machine. The 
 sheriff understands.” 
 
 The fellow hesitated. 
 
 I cannot take him with me, and he will freeze to 
 death if I leave him in the road. Will you come? ” 
 
 The man stared at her. 
 
 Say, is it your husband ? ” he asked agape. 
 
 She nodded her head. 
 
 ^‘Well, I’ll go out and have a look at the fellow 
 you’ve got with you,” said he, still doubtful. 
 
 She stood in the door while he crossed over to the 
 car and peered at the face of the sleeper. 
 
 Steve Morley,” he said. Fuller’n a goat.” 
 
 Please remove him from the car,” she directed. 
 
 Later on, as he stood looking down at the inert figure 
 in the big rocking chair, and panting from his labours, 
 he heard her say patiently : 
 
 And now will you be so good as to direct me to the 
 Post-road.” 
 
 He scratched his head. This is mighty queer, the 
 whole business,” he declared, assailed by doubts. 
 
 Suppose you are not Mrs. Wrandall, but — the other 
 one. What then? ” 
 
 As if in answer to his question, the man Morley 
 opened his blear-eyes and tried to get to his feet. 
 
 Wha — what are we doin’ here. Mis’ Wran’all? 
 Wha’s up ? ” 
 
 Stay where you are, Steve,” said the other. It’s 
 all right.” Then he went forth and pointed the way 
 to her. It’s a long ways to Columbus Circle,” he said. 
 
 I don’t envy you the trip. Keep straight ahead after 
 you hit the Post-road.” He stood there listening until 
 the whir of the motor was lost in the distance. “ She’ll 
 never make it,” he said to himself. “ It’s more than a 
 
THE PASSING OF A NIGHT 29 
 
 strong man could do on roads like these. She must be 
 crazy.” 
 
 Coming to the Post-road, she increased the speed of 
 the car, with the sharp wind behind her, her eyes intent 
 on the white stretch that leaped up in front of the lamps 
 like a blank wall beyond which there was nothing but 
 dense oblivion. But for the fact that she knew that this 
 road ran straight and unobstructed into the outskirts 
 of New York, she might have lost courage and decision. 
 The natural confidence of an experienced driver was 
 hers. She had the daring of one who has never met 
 with an accident, and who trusts to the instincts rather 
 than to an actual understanding of conditions. With 
 her, it was not a question of her own capacity and 
 strength, but a belief in the fidelity of the engine that 
 carried her forward. It had not occurred to her that 
 the task of guiding that heavy, swerving thing through 
 the unbroken road was something beyond her powers 
 of endurance. She often had driven it a hundred miles 
 and more without resting, or without losing zest in the 
 enterprise: then why should she fear the small matter 
 of thirty miles, even under the most trying of condi- 
 tions ? 
 
 The restless, driving desire to be as far as possible 
 from that horrid sight at the inn, with all that went to 
 make it repellant, put strength into her arms. The 
 car swung from one side of the road to the other, pick- 
 ing its way through the opaque desert, reeling from 
 rut to rut past hideous shadows and deeper into the 
 black abyss that lay ahead. No friendly light gleamed 
 by the wayside; the world was black and cold and dead. 
 She alone was on the highway, the only human creature 
 who defied the night. OIF there on either side people 
 lived, and slept, and were in darkness just as she was, 
 
so 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 but not in dreadful darkness. They were not pursued 
 by ghosts; they were not running away from a Thing! 
 They slept and were at peace, and their lights were 
 out for they were not afraid in the dark. She thought 
 of it : she was alone ! No other creature was abroad — 
 not one ! 
 
 Sharply there came to her mind the question: was 
 she the only one abroad in this black little world? 
 What of the other woman? The one who was being 
 hunted? Where was she? And what of the ghost at 
 her heels? 
 
 The car bounded over a railroad crossing. She 
 recalled the directions given by the man at the station 
 and hastily applied the brake. There was another 
 and more dangerous crossing a hundred yards ahead. 
 She had been warned particularly to take it carefully, 
 as there was a sharp curve in the road beyond. 
 
 Suddenly she jammed down the emergency brake, a 
 startled exclamation falling from her lips. Not twenty 
 feet ahead, in the middle of the road and directly in 
 line with the light of the lamps, stood a black, motion- 
 less figure — the figure of a woman whose head was 
 lowered and whose arms hung limply at her sides. 
 
 The woman in the car bent forward over the wheel, 
 staring hard. Many seconds passed. At last the for- 
 lorn object in the roadway lifted her face and looked 
 vacantly into the glare of the lamps. Her eyes were 
 wide-open, her face a ghastly white. 
 
 “ God in heaven! struggled from the stiffening lips 
 of Sara Wrandall. Her fingers tightened on the wheel. 
 
 She knew. This was the woman ! 
 
 The long brown ulster; the limp, fluttering veil! 
 
 A woman about your size and figure,” the sheriff had 
 said. 
 
THE PASSING OF A NIGHT 
 
 81 
 
 The figure swayed and then moved a few steps for- 
 ward. Blinded by the lights, she bent her head and 
 shielded her eyes with her hand the better to glimpse 
 the occupant of the car. 
 
 Are you looking for me?^ she cried out shrilly, at 
 the same time spreading her arms as if in surrender. 
 It was almost a waiL 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall caught her breath. Her heart be- 
 gan to beat once more. 
 
 ^‘Who are you? What do you want?” she cried 
 out, without knowing what she said. 
 
 The girl started. She had not expected to hear the 
 voice of a woman. She staggered to the side of the 
 road, out of the line of light. 
 
 I — I beg your pardon,” she cried, — it was like 
 a wail of disappointment, — ‘‘I am sorry to have 
 stopped you.” 
 
 Come here,” commanded the other, still staring. 
 
 The unsteady figure advanced. Halting beside the 
 car, she leaned across the spare tires and gazed into 
 the eyes of the driver. Their faces were not more than 
 a foot apart, their eyes were narrowed in tense scru- 
 tiny. 
 
 “ What do you want? ” repeated Mrs. Wrandall, her 
 voice hoarse and tremulous. 
 
 I am looking for an inn. It must be near by, I 
 do—” 
 
 An inn? ” with a start. 
 
 I do not recall the name. It is not far from a vil- 
 lage, in the hills.” 
 
 Do you mean Burton’s ? ” 
 
 ^^Yes. That’s it. Can you direct me?” The 
 voice of the girl was faint; she seemed about to fall. 
 
 “ It is six or eight miles from here,” said Mrs. Wran- 
 
32 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 dall, still looking in wonder at the miserable night- 
 farer. 
 
 The girPs head sank ; a moan of despair came 
 through her lips, ending in a sob. 
 
 So far as that? ” she murmured. Then she drew 
 herself up with a fine show of resolution. But I 
 must not stop here. Thank you.” 
 
 ^^Wait!” cried the other. The girl turned to her 
 once more. Is — is it a matter of life or death? ” 
 
 There was a long silence. Yes. I must find my 
 way there. It is — death.” 
 
 Sara Wrandall laid her heavily gloved hand on the 
 slim fingers that touched the tire. 
 
 Listen to me,” she said, a shrill note of resolve 
 ringing in her voice. I am going to New York. 
 Won’t you let me take you with me? ” 
 
 The girl drew back, wonder and apprehension strug- 
 gling for the mastery of her eyes. 
 
 But I am bound the other way. To the inn. I 
 must go on.” 
 
 Come with me,” said Sara Wrandall firmly. You 
 must not go back there. I know what has happened 
 there. Come! I will take care of you. You must 
 not go to the inn.” 
 
 You know? ” faltered the girl. 
 
 Yes. You poor thing!” There was infinite pity 
 in her voice. 
 
 The girl laid her head on her arms. 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall sat above her, looking down, held 
 mute by warring emotions. The Impossible had come 
 to pass. The girl for whom the whole world would 
 be searching in a day or two, had stepped out of the 
 unknown and, by the most whimsical jest of fate, into 
 the custody of the one person most interested of all 
 
THE PASSING OF A NIGHT 
 
 83 
 
 in that self-same world. It was unbelievable. She 
 wondered if it were not a dream, or the hallucinatioii 
 of an overwrought mind. Spurred by the sudden 
 doubt as to the reality of the object before her, she 
 stretched out her hand and touched the girl’s shoulder. 
 
 Instantly she looked up. Her fingers sought the 
 friendly hand and clasped it tightly. 
 
 “ Oh, if you will only take me to the city with you ! 
 If you only give me the chance,” she cried hoarsel3\ 
 I don’t know what impulse was driving me back 
 there. I only know I could not help myself. You 
 really mean it.^^ You will take me with you.^^ ” 
 
 Yes. Don’t be afraid. Come ! Get in,” said the 
 woman in the car rapidly. ‘‘You — you are real.?^ ” 
 The girl did not hear the strange question. She 
 was hurrying around to the opposite side of the car. 
 As she crossed before the lamps, Mrs. Wrandall no- 
 ticed with dulled interest that her garments were cov- 
 ered with mud; her small, comely hat was in sad dis- 
 order; loose wisps of hair fluttered with the unsightly 
 veil. Her hands, she recalled, were clad in thin suede 
 gloves. She would be half-frozen. She had been out 
 in all this terrible weather, — perhaps since the hour of 
 her flight from the inn. 
 
 The odd feeling of pity grew stronger within her. 
 She made no effort to analyse it, nor to account for it. 
 Why should she pity the slayer of her husband? It 
 was a question unasked, unconsidered. Afterwards 
 she was to recall this hour and its strange impulses, 
 and to realise that it was not pity, but mercy that 
 moved her to do the extraordinary thing that followed. 
 
 Trembling all over, her teeth chattering, her breath 
 coming in short little moans, the girl struggled up be- 
 side her and fell back in the seat. Without a word. 
 
34i 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Sara Wrandall drew the great buffalo robe over her 
 and tucked it in about her feet and legs and far up 
 about her body, which had slumped down in the seat. 
 
 You are very, very good,” chattered the girl, al- 
 most inaudibly. I shall never forget — ” She did 
 not complete the sentence, but sat upright and fixed 
 her gaze on her companion’s face. You — you are 
 not doing this just to turn me over to — to the police? 
 They must be searching for me. You are not going to 
 give me up to them, are you? There will be a reward 
 I—” 
 
 There is no reward,” said Sara Wrandall sharply. 
 
 I do not mean to give you up. I am simply giving 
 you a chance to get away. I have always felt sorry 
 for the fox when the time for the kill drew near. 
 That’s the way I feel.” 
 
 Oh, thank you ! Thank you ! But what am I say- 
 ing? Why should I permit you to do this for me? I 
 meant to go back there and have it over with, I know 
 I can’t escape. It will have to come, it is bound to 
 come. Why put it off? Let them take me, let them 
 do what they will with me. I — ” 
 
 Hush ! We’ll see. First of all, understand me : 
 I shall not turn you over to the police. I will give you 
 the chance. I will help you. I can do no more than 
 that.” 
 
 But why should you help me ? I — I — Oh, I can’t 
 let you do it! You do not understand. I — have — 
 committed! — a — terrible — ” she broke off with a 
 groan, 
 
 I understand,” said the other, something like grim- 
 ness in her level tones. I have been tempted more 
 than once myself.” The enigmatic remark made no 
 impression on the listener. 
 
THE PASSING OF A NIGHT 
 
 &5 
 
 I wonder how long ago it was that it all hap- 
 pened,” muttered the girl, as if to herself, It seems 
 ages, — oh, such ages.” 
 
 Where have you been hiding since last night ? ” 
 asked Mrs. Wrandall, throwing in the clutch. The 
 car started forward with a jerk, kicking up the snow 
 behind it. 
 
 ^^Was it only last night.? Oh, Pve been — ” The 
 thought of her sufferings from exposure and dread was 
 too much for the wretched creature. She broke out in 
 a soft wail. 
 
 You’ve been out in all this weather.?” demanded 
 the other. 
 
 I lost my way. In the hills back there. I don’t 
 know where I was.” 
 
 Had you no place of shelter.? ” 
 
 “ "Where could I seek shelter.? I spent the day in the 
 cellar of a farmer’s house. He didn’t know I was 
 there. I have had no food.” 
 
 Why did you kill that man.? ” 
 
 There was nothing left for me to do but that.” 
 
 And why did you rob him? ” 
 
 Ah, I had ample time to think of all that. You 
 may tell the officers they will find everything hidden in 
 that farmhouse cellar. God knows I did not want 
 them. I am not a thief. I’m not so bad as that.” 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall marvelled. Not so bad as that!” 
 And she was a murderess, a wanton ! 
 
 You are hungry.? You must be famished.” 
 
 No, I am not hungry. I have not thought of 
 food.” She said it in such a way that the other knew 
 what her whole mind had been given over to since the 
 night before. 
 
 A fresh impulse seized her. You shall have food 
 
36 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 and a place where you can sleep — and rest,” she said. 
 
 Now please don’t say anything more. I do not want 
 to know too much. The least you say to-night,' the 
 better for — for both of us.” 
 
 With that she devoted all of her attention to the car, 
 increasing the speed considerably. Far ahead she 
 could see twinkling, will-o’-the-wisp lights, the first 
 signs of thickly populated districts. They were still 
 eight or ten miles from the outskirts of the city and the 
 way was arduous. She was conscious of a sudden feel- 
 ing of fatigue. The chill of the night seemed to have 
 made itself felt with abrupt, almost stupefying force. 
 She wondered if she could keep her strength, her cour- 
 age, — her nerves. 
 
 The girl was English. Mrs. Wrandall was convinced 
 of the fact almost immediately. Unmistakably Eng- 
 lish and apparently of the cultivated type. In fact, 
 the peculiarities of speech that determines the London 
 show-girl or music-hall character were wholly lacking. 
 Her voice, her manner, even under such trying condi- 
 tions, were characteristic of the English woman of 
 cultivation. Despite the dreadful strain under which 
 she laboured, there were evidences of that curious se- 
 renity which marks the English woman of the better 
 classes: an inborn composure, a calm orderliness of 
 the emotions. Mrs. Wrandall was conscious of a sense 
 of surprise, of a wonder that increased as her thoughts 
 resolved themselves into something less chaotic than 
 they were at the time of contact with this visible condi- 
 tion. 
 
 For a mile or more, she sent the car along with 
 reckless disregard for comfort or safety. Her mind 
 was groping for something tangible in the way of in- 
 tentions. What was she to do with this creature? 
 
THE PASSING OF A NIGHT 
 
 37 
 
 What was to become of her? At what street comer 
 should she turn her adrift? The idea of handing her 
 over to the police did not enter her thoughts for an 
 instant. Somehow she felt that the girl was a stranger 
 to the city. She could not explain the feeling, yet it 
 was with her and very persistent. Of course, there 
 was a home of some sort, or lodgings, or friends, but 
 would the girl dare show herself in familiar haunts? 
 
 She had said to the sheriff that she hoped the slayer 
 of her husband would never be caught. She recalled 
 her words, and she remembered how sincere she had been 
 in uttering them. But she had not figured on herself 
 as an instrument in furthering the hope to the point 
 of actual realisation. What could be more incon- 
 gruous, more theatric, — yes, more bizarre, than her 
 attitude at this moment? It seemed impossible that 
 this shrinking, inert heap at her side was a living 
 thing; a woman who had slain a fellow creature, and 
 that creature the man who had been her husband for 
 six years. It seemed utterly beyond sense or reason 
 that she should be helping this murderess to escape, 
 that she should be showing her the slightest sign of 
 mercy. And yet, it was all true. She was helping her, 
 she was befriending her. 
 
 She found herself wondering why the poor wretch 
 had not made way with herself. Escape seemed out 
 of the question. That must have been clear to her 
 from the beginning, else why was she going back there 
 to give herself up? What better way out of it all 
 than self-destruction? Sara Wrandall reached a sud- 
 den conclusion. She would advise the girl to leave the 
 car when they reached the centre of a certain bridge 
 that spanned the river! No one would find 
 her • . . 
 
38 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Even as the thought took shape in her mind, she ex- 
 perienced great sense of awe, so overwhelming that 
 she cried out with the horror of it. She turned her 
 head for a quick glance at the mute, wretched face 
 showing white above the robe, and her heart ached with 
 sudden pity for her. The thought of that slender, 
 alive thing going down to the icy waters — her soul 
 turned sick with the dread of it! 
 
 In that instant, Sara Wrandall — no philanthro- 
 pist, no sentimentalist — made up her mind to give this 
 erring one more than an even chance for salvation. She 
 would see her safely across that bridge and many oth- 
 ers. God had directed the footsteps of this girl so 
 that she should fall in with the one best qualified to 
 pass judgment on her. It was in that person’s power 
 to save her or destroy her. The commandment. 
 
 Thou shalt not kill,” took on a broader meaning as 
 she considered the power that was hers: the power to 
 kill. 
 
 Back of all these finely human impulses was the mys- 
 terious arbiter that makes great decisions for all of us, 
 from which there can be no appeal, and which brooks 
 no argument: Self. Self it was that put a single 
 question to her and answered it as well : what personal 
 grievance had she against this unhappy girl? None 
 whatever. Self it was therefore that slyly thanked 
 her for an unspeakable blessing: she had brought to 
 an end not only the life of her husband but the false 
 position she herself had been obliged to maintain 
 through a mistaken sense of duty and self-respect. 
 And who was to say, outside the law, that this frail 
 girl had not just cause to slay? 
 
 A great relaxation came over Sara Wrandall. It 
 was as if every nerve, every muscle in her body had 
 
THE PASSING OF A NIGHT 
 
 39 
 
 reached the snapping point and suddenly had given 
 way. For a moment her hands were weak and power- 
 less; her head fell forward. In an instant she con- 
 quered, — but only partially, — the strange feeling of 
 lassitude. Then she realised how tired she was, how 
 fiercely the strain had told on her body and brain, how 
 much she had really suffered. 
 
 Her blurred eyes turned once more for a look at the 
 girl, who sat there, just as she had been sitting for 
 miles, her white face standing out with almost unnat- 
 ural clearness, and as rigid as that of the sphinx. 
 
 The girl spoke. Do they hang women in this 
 country? ” 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall started. In some of the States,” 
 she replied, and was unable to account for the swift 
 impulse to evade. 
 
 “But in this State?” persisted the other, almost 
 without a movement of the lips. 
 
 “ They send them to the electric chair — sometimes,” 
 said Mrs. Wrandall. 
 
 There was a long silence between them, broken finally 
 by the girl. 
 
 “ You have been very kind to me, madam. I have 
 no means of expressing my gratitude. I can only say 
 that I shall bless you to my dying hour. May I 
 trouble you to set me down at the bridge? I remem- 
 ber crossing one. I shall be able to — ” 
 
 “No!” cried Mrs. Wrandall shrilly, divining the 
 other’s intention at once. “ You shall not do that. I 
 too thought of that as a way out of it for you, but — 
 no, it must not be that. Give me a few minutes to 
 think. I will find a way.” 
 
 The girl turned toward her. Her eyes were burn- 
 ing. 
 
40 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Do you mean that you will help me to get away ? ” 
 she cried, slowly, incredulously. 
 
 Let me think ! ’’ 
 
 You will lay yourself liable — 
 
 Let me think, I say.’’ 
 
 But I mean to surrender myself to — ” 
 
 An hour ago you meant to do it, but what were you 
 thinking of ten minutes ago? Not surrender. You 
 were thinking of the bridge. Listen to me now: I am 
 sure that I can save you. I do not know all the — all 
 the circumstances connected with your association with 
 — with that man back there at the inn. Twenty-four 
 hours passed before they were able to identify him. 
 It is not unlikely that to-morrow may put them in 
 possession of the name of the woman who went with 
 him to that place. They do not know it to-night, of 
 that I am positive. You covered your trail too well. 
 But you must have been seen with him during the day 
 or the night — ” 
 
 The other broke in eagerly : “ I don’t believe any one 
 knows that I — that I went out there with him. He 
 arranged it very — carefully. Oh, what a beast he 
 was ! ” The bitterness of that wail caused the woman 
 beside her to cry out as if hurt by a sharp, almost un- 
 bearable pain. For an instant she seemed about to 
 lose control of herself. The car swerved and came 
 dangerously near to leaving the road. 
 
 A full minute passed before she could trust herself 
 to speak. Then it was with a deep hoarseness in her 
 voice. 
 
 “You can tell me about it later on, not now. I 
 don’t want to hear it. Tell me, where do you live? ” 
 
 The girl’s manner changed so absolutely that there 
 could be but one inference : she was acutely suspicious. 
 
THE PASSING OF A NIGHT 41 
 
 Her lips tightened and her figure seemed to stiffen in 
 in the seat. 
 
 Where do you live?” repeated the other sharply. 
 
 Why should I tell you that? I do not know you. 
 .You — ” 
 
 ‘Y^ou are afraid of me?” 
 
 ( Oh, I don’t know what to say, or what to do,” 
 came from the lips of the hunted one. I have no 
 friends, no one to turn to, no one to help me. You — 
 you can’t be so heartless as to lead me on and then give 
 me up to — God help me, I — I should not be made 
 to suffer for what I have done. If you only knew the 
 circumstances. If you only knew — ” 
 
 Stop ! ” cried the other, in agony. 
 
 The girl was bewildered. “ You are so strange. 
 I don’t understand — ” 
 
 We have but two or three miles to go,” interrupted 
 Mrs. Wrandall. We must think hard and — rapidly. 
 Are you willing to come with me to my hotel? You 
 will be safe there for the present. To-morrow we can 
 plan something for the future.” 
 
 If I can only find a place to rest for a little while,” 
 began the other. 
 
 I shall be busy all day, you will not be disturbed. 
 But leave the rest to me. I shall find a way.” 
 
 It was nearly three o’clock when she brought the car 
 to a stop in front of a small, exclusive hotel not far 
 from Central Park. The street was dark and the vesti- 
 bule was but dimly lighted. No attendant was in 
 sight. 
 
 Slip into this,” commanded Mrs. Wrandall, begin- 
 ning to divest herself of her own fur coat. It will 
 cover your muddy garments. I am quite warmly 
 dressed. Don’t worry. Be quick. For the time being 
 
42 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 you are my guest here. You will not be questioned. 
 No one need know who you are. It will not matter if 
 you look distressed. You have just heard of the 
 dreadful thing that has happened to me. You — ’’ 
 
 Happened to you?” cried the girl, drawing the 
 coat about her. 
 
 A member of my family has died. They know 
 it in the hotel by this time. I was called to the death 
 bed — to-night. That is all you will have to know.” 
 
 Oh, I am sorry — ” 
 
 Come, let us go im When we reach my rooms, you 
 may order food and drink. You must do it, not L 
 Please try to remember that it is I who am suffering, 
 not you.” 
 
 A sleepy night watchman took them up in the ele- 
 vator. He was not even interested. Mrs. Wrandall 
 did not speak, but leaned rather heavily on the arm of 
 her companion. The door had no sooner closed be- 
 hind them when the girl collapsed. She sank to the 
 floor in a heap. 
 
 Get up ! ” commanded her hostess sharply. This 
 was not the time for soft, persuasive words. Get 
 up at once. You are young and strong. You must 
 show the stuff you are made of now if you ever mean to 
 show it. I cannot help you if you quail.” 
 
 The girl looked up piteously, and then struggled to 
 her feet. She stood before her protectress, weaving 
 like a frail reed in the wind, pallid to the lips. 
 
 I beg your pardon,” she murmured. I will not 
 give way like that again. I dare say Pm faint. I have 
 had no food, no rest — but never mind that now. Tell 
 me what I am to do. I will try to obey.” 
 
 First of all, get out of those muddy, frozen things 
 you have on.” 
 
THE PASSIi^a 0 ¥ A NIGHT 
 
 43 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall herself moved stiffly and with un- 
 steady limbs as she began to remove her own outer 
 garments. The girl mechanically followed her ex- 
 ample. She was a pitiable object in the strong light 
 of the electrolier. Muddy from head to foot, water- 
 stained and bedraggled, her face streaked with dirt, 
 she was the most unattractive creature one could well 
 imagine. 
 
 These women, so strangely thrown together by Fate, 
 maintained an unbroken silence during the long, fum- 
 bling process of partial disrobing. They scarcely 
 looked at one another, and yet they were acutely con- 
 scious of the interest each felt in the other. The 
 grateful warmth of the room, the abrupt transition 
 from gloom and cheerlessness to comfortable obscur- 
 ity, had a more pronounced effect on the stranger 
 than on her hostess. 
 
 It is good to feel warm once more,” she said, an 
 odd timidness in her manner. You are very good to 
 me.’’ 
 
 They were in Mrs. Wrandall’s bed-chamber, just off 
 the little sitting-room. Three or four trunks stood 
 against the walls. 
 
 I dismissed my maid on landing. She robbed me,” 
 said Mrs. Wrandall, voicing the relief that was upper- 
 most in her mind. She opened a closet door and took 
 out a thick eider-down robe, which she tossed across 
 a chair. Now call up the office and say that you 
 are speaking for me. Say to them that I must have 
 something to eat, no matter what the hour may be. 
 I will get out some clean underwear for you, and — 
 Oh, yes ; if they ask about me, say that I am cold and 
 ill. That is sufficient. Here is the bath. Please be 
 as quick about it as possible.” 
 
44 ’ 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Moving as if in a dream, the girl did as she was 
 told. Twenty minutes later there was a knock at the 
 door. A waiter appeared with a tray and service 
 table. He found Mrs. Wrandall lying back in a chair, 
 attended by a slender young woman in a pink eider- 
 down dressing-gown, who gave hesitating directions 
 to him. Then he was dismissed with a handsome tip, 
 produced by the same young woman. 
 
 You are not to return for these things,” she said 
 as he went out. 
 
 In silence she ate and drank, her hostess looking on 
 with gloomy interest. It was no shock to Mrs. Wran- 
 dall to find that the girl, who was no more than twenty- 
 two or three, possessed unusual beauty. Her great 
 eyes were blue, — the lovely Irish blue, — her skin was 
 fair and smooth, her features regular and of the deli- 
 cate mould that defines the well-bred gentlewoman at 
 a glance. Her hair, now in order, was dark and thick 
 and lay softly about her small ears and neck. She was 
 not surprised, I repeat, for she had never known Challis 
 Wrandall to show interest in any but the most at- 
 tractive of her sex. She found herself smiling bitterly 
 as she looked. 
 
 To herself she was saying : It isn’t so hard to bear 
 when I realise that he betrayed me for one who is so 
 much more beautiful than I. He loved me because I am 
 beautiful. His every defection proves it. The oth- 
 ers have all been beautiful. And to think that this 
 gentle, slender creature should have been the one to 
 give him his death-blow. It seems incredible. If it 
 had been struck by some outraged husband, strong of 
 arm and fierce with vengeance, I could understand. 
 But — but this young, pretty, soft-eyed thing ! ” 
 
 But who may know the thoughts of the other occu- 
 
THE PASSING OF A NIGHT 
 
 45 
 
 pant of that little sitting-room? Who can put her- 
 self in the place of that despairing, hunted creature 
 who knew that blood was on the hands with which she 
 ate, and whose eyes were filled with visions of the death- 
 chair? 
 
 So great was her fatigue that long before she fin- 
 ished the meal her tired lids began to droop, her head 
 to nod in spasmodic surrenders to an overpowering de- 
 sire for sleep. Suddenly she dropped the fork from 
 her fingers and sank back in the comfortable chair, 
 her head resting against the soft, upholstered back. 
 Her lids fell, her hands dropped to the arms of the 
 chair. A fine line appeared between her dark eye- 
 brows, — indicative of pain. 
 
 For many minutes Sara Wrandall watched the hag- 
 gardness deepen in the face of the unconscious sleeper. 
 Then, even as she wondered at the act, she went over 
 and took up one of the slim hands in her own. The 
 hand of an aristocrat ! It lay limp in hers, and help- 
 less. Long, tapering fingers and delicately pink with 
 the return of warmth. 
 
 Rousing herself from the mute contemplation of 
 her charge, she shook the girPs shoulder. Instantly 
 she was awake and staring, alarm in her dazed, bewil- 
 dered eyes. 
 
 You must go to bed,” said Mrs. Wrandall quietly. 
 
 Don’t be afraid. No one will think of coming here.” 
 
 The girl arose. As she stood before her benefactress, 
 she heard her murmur as if from afar-off : Just about 
 your size and figure,” and wondered not a little. 
 
 You may sleep late. I have many things to do 
 and you will not be disturbed. Come, take off your 
 clothes and get into my bed. To-morrow w^e will 
 plan further — ” 
 
46 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 But, madam/’ cried the girl, I cannot take your 
 bed. Where are you to — ” 
 
 If I feel like lying down, I shall lie there beside 
 you.” 
 
 The girl stared. Lie beside me? ” 
 
 Yes. Oh, I am not afraid of you, child. You are 
 not a monster. You are just a poor, tired — ” 
 
 Oh, please don’t ! Please ! ” cried the other, tears 
 rushing to her eyes. She raised Mrs. Wrandall’s hand 
 to her lips and covered it with kisses. 
 
 Long after she went to sleep, Sara Wrandall stood 
 beside the bed, looking down at the pain-stricken face, 
 and tried to solve the problem that suddenly had be- 
 come a part of her very existence. 
 
 It is not friendship,” she argued fiercely. It is 
 not charity, it is not humanity. It’s the debt I owe, 
 that’s all. She did the thing for me that I could not 
 have done myself because I loved him. I owe her 
 something for that.” 
 
 Later on she turned her attention to the trunks. 
 Her decision was made. With ruthless hands she 
 dragged gown after gown from the innovations ” and 
 cast them over chairs, on the floor, across the foot of 
 the bed: smart things from Paris and Vienna; ball 
 gowns, street gowns, tea gowns, lingerie, blouses, hats, 
 gloves and all of the countless things that a woman 
 of fashion and means indulges herself in when she goes 
 abroad for that purpose and no other to speak of. 
 From the closets she drew forth New York “ tailor- 
 suits ” and other garments. 
 
 Until long after six o’clock she busied herself over 
 this huge pile of costly raiment, portions of which she 
 had worn but once or twice, some not at all, selecting 
 certain dresses, hats, stockings, etc., each of which 
 
THE PASSING OF A NIGHT’ 
 
 47 
 
 she laid carelessly aside: an imposing pile of many 
 hues, all bright and gay and glittering. In another 
 heap she laid the sombre things of black: a meagre 
 assortment as compared to the other. 
 
 Then she stood back and surveyed the two heaps 
 with tired eyes, a curious, almost scornful smile on her 
 lips. There ! ’’ she said with a sigh. The black 
 pile is mine, the gay pile is yours,” she went on, turn- 
 ing toward the sleeping girl. What a travesty ! ” 
 
 Then she gathered up the soiled garments her charge 
 had worn and cast them into the bottom of a trunk, 
 which she locked. Laying out a carefully selected as- 
 sortment of her own garments for the girl’s use when 
 she arose, Mrs. Wrandall sat down beside the bed and 
 waited, knowing that sleep would not come to her. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 HETTY CASTEETON 
 
 At half-past six she went to the telephone and called 
 for the morning newspapers. At the same time she 
 asked that a couple of district messenger boys be 
 sent to her room with the least possible delay. The 
 hushed, scared voice of the telephone girl downstairs 
 convinced her that news of the tragedy was abroad; 
 she could imagine the girl looking at the headlines with 
 awed eyes even as she responded to the call from roo!li 
 416, and her shudder as she realised that it was the wife 
 of the dead man speaking. 
 
 One of the night clerks, pale and agitated, came up 
 with the papers. He inquired if there was anything he 
 could do. He tried to tell her that it was a dreadful, 
 sickening thing, but the words stuck in his throat. She 
 stood before him, holding the door open; the light in 
 the hall fell upon her white, haggard face. He began 
 to tremble all over, as if with the ague. 
 
 ^‘Will you be good enough to come in?’’ she in- 
 quired, quite steadily. The newspapers — have they 
 printed the — the details ? ” 
 
 He entered and she closed the door. 
 
 “Just the — just the news that it was Mr. Wran- 
 dall,” he replied jerkily. “Later on they’ll have — ” 
 She interrupted him. “ Let me have them, please.” 
 Without so much as a glance at the headlines, she 
 tossed the papers on the table. “ I have sent for two 
 messenger boys. It is too early to accomplish much 
 by telephone, I fear. Will you be so kind as to tele- 
 phone at seven o’clock or a little after to my apart- 
 
 48 
 
HETTY CASTLETON 
 
 49 
 
 ment? — You will find the number under Mr. Wran- 
 dalPs name. Please inform the butler or his wife that 
 they may expect me by ten o’clock, and that I shall 
 bring a friend with me — a young lady. Kindly have 
 my motor sent to Haffner’s garage, and looked after. 
 When the reporters come, as they will, please say to 
 them that I will see them at my own home at eleven 
 o’clock.” 
 
 Can’t I — we — I should say, don’t you want us 
 to send word to your — your friends, Mrs. Wrandall, — 
 the family, I mean.? No trouble to do it, and — ” 
 
 Thank you, no. The messengers will attend to all 
 that is necessary. When my lawyer arrives, please 
 send him here to me. Mr. Carroll. Thank you.” 
 
 The clerk, considerably relieved, took his departure 
 in some haste, and she was left with the morning papers, 
 each of which she scanned rapidly. The details, of 
 course, were meagre. There was a double-leaded ac- 
 count of her visit to the inn and her extraordinary 
 return to the city. Her chief interest, however, did 
 not rest in these particulars, but in the speculations of 
 the authorities as to the identity of the myster- 
 ious woman — and her whereabouts. There was the 
 likelihood that she was not the only one who 
 had encountered the girl on the highway or in the 
 neighbourhood of the inn. So far as she could glean 
 from the reports, however, no one had seen the girl, 
 nor was there the slightest hint offered as to her 
 identity. The papers of the previous afternoon had 
 published lurid accounts of the murder, with all of 
 the known details, the name of the victim at that time 
 still being a mystery. She remembered reading the 
 story with no little interest. The only new feature 
 in the case, therefore, was the identification of Challis 
 
50 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Wrandall by his ‘^beautiful wife/’ and the sensational 
 manner in which it had been brought about. With 
 considerable interest she noted the hour that these 
 despatches had been received from special correspond- 
 ents/’ and wondered where the shrewd, lynx-eyed re- 
 porters napped while she was at the inn. All of the 
 despatches were timed three o’clock and each paper 
 characterised its issue as an Extra,” with Challis 
 Wrandall’s name in huge type across as many columns 
 as the dignity of the sheet permitted. 
 
 Not one word of the girl! Absolute mystery! 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall returned to her post beside the bed 
 of the sleeper in the adjoining room. Deliberately she 
 placed the newspapers on a chair near the girl’s pil- 
 low, and then raised the window shades to let in the 
 hard grey light of early morn. 
 
 It was not her present intention to arouse the wan 
 stranger, who slept as one dead. So gentle was her 
 breathing that the watcher stared in some fear at the 
 fair, smooth breast that seemed scarcely to rise and fall. 
 For a long time she stood beside the bed, looking down 
 at the face of the sleeper, a troubled expression in her 
 eyes. 
 
 I wonder how many times you were seen with him, 
 and where, and by whom,” were the questions that ran 
 in a single strain through her mind. Where do you 
 come from? Where did you meet him? Who is there 
 that knows of your acquaintance with him? ” 
 
 There was no kindly light in her eyes, nor was 
 there the faintest sign of animosity. Merely the look 
 of one who calculates in the interest of a well-shaped 
 purpose. She was estimating the difficulties that were 
 likely to attend the carr3dng out of a design as yet half- 
 formed and quixotic. There were many things to be 
 
HETTY CASTLETON 51 
 
 considered. At present she was working in utter dark- 
 ness. What would the light bring forth? 
 
 Her lawyer came in great haste and perturbation 
 at eight o’clock, in response to the letter delivered by 
 one of the messengers. A second letter had gone by 
 like means to her husband’s brother, Leslie Wrandall, 
 instructing him to break the news to his father and 
 mother and to come to her apartment after he had 
 attended to the removal of the body to the family 
 home near Washington Square. She made it quite 
 plain that she did not want Challis Wrandall’s body to 
 lie under the roof that sheltered her. 
 
 His family had resented their marriage. Father, 
 mother and sister had objected to her from the be- 
 ginning, not because she was unworthy, but because her 
 tradespeople ancestry was not so remote as his. She 
 found a curious sense of pleasure in returning to them 
 the thing they prized so highly and surrendered to her 
 with such bitterness of heart. She had not been good 
 enough for him : that was their attitude. Now she was 
 returning him to them, as one would return an article 
 that had been tested and found to be worthless. She 
 would have no more of him ! 
 
 Leslie, three years younger than Challis, did not hold 
 to the views that actuated the remaining members of 
 the family in opposing her as an addition to the rather 
 close corporation known far and wide as the Wran- 
 dalls.” He had stood out for her in a rather mild but 
 none-the-less steadfast manner, blandly informing his 
 mother on mere than one occasion that Sara was quite 
 too good for Challis, any way you looked at it : an at- 
 titude which provoked sundry caustic references to his 
 own lamentable shortcomings in the matter of family 
 pride and — intelligence. 
 
 imm 
 
 DNlVEStiSiTY OF ILLINOIS 
 
52 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 He and Sara had been good friends after a fash* 
 ion. He was a bit of a snob but not much of a prig. 
 She had the feeling about him that if he could be weaned 
 away from the family he might stand for something 
 fine in the way of character. But he was an adept 
 at straddling fences, so that he was never fully on one 
 side or the other, no matter which way he leaned. 
 
 He had not been deeply attached to his brother. 
 Their ways were wide apart. All his life he had known 
 Challis for what he was ; his heart if not his hand was 
 against him. From the first, he had regarded Sara’s 
 marriage as a bad bargain for her, and toward the 
 last bluntly told her so. Not once but many times had 
 he taken it upon himself to inform her that she was a 
 fool to put up with all the beastly things Challis was 
 doing. He characterised as infatuation the emotion 
 she was prone to call love when they met to discuss 
 the escapades of the careless Challis, for she always 
 went to him with her troubles. In direct opposition 
 to his counselling, she invariably forgave the erring 
 lover who was her husband. Once Leslie had said to 
 heFj in considerable heat: You act as if you were 
 
 his mistress, instead of his wife. Mistresses have to 
 forgive; wives don’t.” And she had replied: ‘‘Yes, 
 but I’d much rather have him a loA^er than a husband.” 
 A remark which Leslie never quite fathomed, being 
 somewhat literal himself. 
 
 Carroll, her lawyer, an elderh^ man of vast expe- 
 rience, was not surprised to find her quite calm and 
 reasonable. He had come to know her very well in 
 the past few years. He had been her father’s lawyer 
 up to the time of that excellent tradesman’s demise, 
 and he had settled the estate with such unusual des- 
 patch that the heirs, — there were many of them, — re- 
 
HETTY CASTLETON 
 
 53 
 
 garded him as an admirable person and — kept him 
 busy ever afterward straightening out their own af- 
 fairs. Which goes to prove that policy is often better 
 than honesty. 
 
 I quite understand, my dear, that while it is a 
 dreadful shock to you, you are perfectly reconciled 
 to the — er — to the — well, I might say the culmina- 
 tion of his troubles,” said Mr. Carroll tactfully, after 
 she had related for his benefit the story of the night’s 
 adventure, with reservation concerning the girl who 
 slumbered in the room beyond. 
 
 Hardly that, Mr. Carroll. Resigned, perhaps. I 
 can’t say that I am reconciled. All my life I shall 
 feel that I have been cheated,” she said. 
 
 He looked up sharply. Something in her tone puz- 
 zled him. ‘^Cheated, my dear? Oh, I see. Cheated 
 out of years and years of happiness. I see.” 
 
 She bowed her head. Neither spoke for a full min- 
 ute. 
 
 It’s a horrible thing to say, Sara, but this tragedy 
 does away with another and perhaps more unpleasant 
 alternative : the divorce I have been urging you to con- 
 sider for so long.” 
 
 Yes, we are spared all that,” she said. Then she 
 met his gaze with a sudden flash of anger in her eyes. 
 
 But I would not have divorced him — never. You 
 understood that, didn’t you ? ” 
 
 You couldn’t have gone on for ever, my dear child, 
 enduring the — ” 
 
 She stopped him with a sharp exclamation. Why 
 discuss it now? Let the past take care of itself, Mr. 
 Carroll. The past came to an end night before last, 
 so far as I am concerned. I want advice for the fu- 
 ture, not for the past.” 
 
54 ^ 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 He drew back, hurt by her manner. She was quick 
 to see that she had offended him. 
 
 I beg your pardon, my best of friends,’^ she cried 
 earnestly. 
 
 He smiled. If you will take present advice, Sara, 
 you will let go of yourself for a spell and see if tears 
 won’t relieve the tension under — ” 
 
 Tears I ” she cried. Why should I give way to 
 tears? What have I to weep for? That man up there 
 in the country? The cold, dead thing that spent its 
 last living moments without a thought of love for me? 
 Ah, no, my friend; I shed all my tears while he was 
 alive. There are none left to be shed for him now. He 
 exacted his full share of them. It was his pleasure 
 to wring them from me because he knew I loved him.” 
 She leaned forward and spoke slowly, distinctly, so 
 that he would never forget the words. But listen 
 to me, Mr. Carroll. You also know that I loved him. 
 Can you believe me when I say to you that I hate that 
 dead thing up there in Burton’s Inn as no one ever 
 hated before? Can you understand what I mean? I 
 hate that dead body, Mr. Carroll. I loved the life that 
 was in it. It was the life of him that I loved, the warm, 
 appealing life of him. It has gone out. Some one less 
 amiable than I suffered at his hands and — well, that 
 is enough. I hate the dead body she left behind her, 
 Mr. Carroll.” 
 
 The lawyer wiped the cool moisture from his brow. 
 I think I understand,” he said, but he was filled 
 with wonder. Extraordinary ! Ahem ! I should 
 say — Ahem ! Dear me ! Yes, yes — I’ve never really 
 thought of it in that light.” 
 
 I dare say you haven’t,” she said, lying back in 
 the chair as if suddenly exhausted. 
 
HETTY CASTLETON 
 
 55 
 
 By the way, my dear, have you breakfasted? ” 
 
 No. I hadn’t given it a thought. Perhaps it 
 would be better if I had some coffee — ” 
 
 I will ring for a waiter,” he said, springing to his 
 
 feet. 
 
 Not now, please. I have a young friend in the 
 other room — a guest who arrived last night. She 
 will attend to it when she awakes. Poor thing, it has 
 been dreadfully trying for her.” 
 
 Good heaven, I should think so,” said he, with a 
 glance at the closed door. Is she asleep ? ” 
 
 Yes. I shall not call her until you have gone.” 
 May I enquire — ” 
 
 A girl I met recently — an English girl,” said she 
 succinctly, and forthwith changed the subject. There 
 are a few necessary details that must be attended to, 
 Mr. Carroll. That is why I sent for you at this early 
 hour. Mr. Leslie Wrandall will take charge — Ah!” 
 she straightened up suddenly. What a farce it is 
 going to be ! ” 
 
 Half an hour later he departed, to rejoin her at 
 eleven o’clock, when the reporters were to be expected. 
 He was to do the talking for her. While he was there, 
 Leslie Wrandall called her up on the telephone. Hear- 
 ing but one side of the rather prolonged conversation, 
 he was filled with wonder at the tactful way in which 
 she met and parried the inevitable questions and sug- 
 gestions coming from her horror-struck brother-in- 
 law. Without the slightest trace of offensiveness in 
 her manner, she gave Leslie tb understand that the 
 final obsequies must be conducted in the home of his 
 parents, to whom once more her husband belonged, and 
 that she would abide by all arrangements his family 
 elected to make. Mr. Carroll surmised from the trend 
 
56 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 of conversation that young Wrandall was about to leave 
 for the scene of the tragedy, and that the house was in 
 a state of unspeakable distress. The lawyer smiled 
 rather grimly to himself as he turned to look out of 
 the window. He did not have to be told that Challis 
 was the idol of the family, and that, so far as they w^ere 
 concerned, he could do no wrong ! 
 
 After his departure, Mrs. Wrandall gently opened 
 the bedroom door and was surprised to find the girl 
 wide-aw’ake, resting on one elbow, her staring eyes fas- 
 tened on the newspaper that topped the pile on the 
 chair. 
 
 Catching sight of Mrs. Wrandall she pointed to the 
 paper with a trembling hand and cried out, in a voice 
 full of horror: 
 
 Did you place them there for me to read? Who 
 was with you in the other room just now? Was it some 
 one about the — ‘Some one looking for me? Speak! 
 Please tell me. I heard a man’s voice — ” 
 
 The other crossed quickly to her side. 
 
 Don’t be alarmed. It was my lawyer. There is 
 nothing to fear — at present. Yes, I left the papers 
 there for you to see. You can see what a sensation 
 it has caused. Challis Wrandall w^as one of the most 
 widely known men in New York. But I suppose you 
 know that without my telling you.” 
 
 The girl sank back with a groan. My God, what 
 have I done? What will come of it all?” 
 
 I wish I could answer that question,” said the other, 
 taking the girl’s hand in hers. Both were trembling. 
 After an instant’s hesitation, she laid her other hand on 
 the dark, dishevelled hair of the wild-eyed creature, who 
 still continued to stare at the headlines. I am quite 
 sure they will not look for you here, or in my home.” 
 
HETTY CASTLETON 
 
 57 
 
 In your home ? ” 
 
 You are to go with me. I have thought it all 
 over. It is the only way. Comej I must ask you to 
 pull yourself together. Get up at oncej and dress. 
 Here are the things you are to wear.” She indicated 
 the orderly pile of garments with a wave of her hand. 
 
 Slowly the girl crept out of bed, confused, bewildered, 
 stunned. 
 
 Where are my own things ? I — I cannot accept 
 these. Pray give me my own — ” 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall checked her. 
 
 You must obey me, if you expect me to help you. 
 Don’t you understand that I have had a — a bereave- 
 ment? I cannot wear these things now. They are 
 useless to me. But we will speak of all that later on. 
 Come, be quick; I will help you to dress. First, go 
 to the telephone and ask them to send a waiter to — 
 these rooms. We must have something to eat. Please 
 do as I tell you.” 
 
 Standing before her benefactress, her fingers fum- 
 bling impotently at the neck of the night-dress, the girl 
 still continued to stare dumbly into the calm, dark eyes 
 before her. 
 
 You are so good. I — I — ” 
 
 Let me help you,” interrupted the other, deliber- 
 ately setting about to remove the night-dress. The 
 girl caught it up as it slipped from her shoulders, a 
 warm flush suffusing her face, a shamed look springing 
 into her eyes. 
 
 Thank you, I can — get on very well. I only 
 wanted to ask you a question. It has been on my mind, 
 waking and sleeping. Can you tell me anything about 
 — do you know his wife?” 
 
 The question was so abrupt, so startling that Mrs. 
 
58 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Wrandall uttered a sharp little cry. For a moment 
 she could not reply. 
 
 I am so sorry, so desperately sorry for her,” added 
 the girl plaintively. 
 
 I know her,” the other managed to say with an 
 efFort. 
 
 If I had only known that he had a wife — ” began 
 the girl bitterly, almost angrily. 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall grasped her by the arm. You did 
 not know that he had a wife?” she cried. 
 
 The girPs eyes flashed with a sudden, fierce fire in 
 their depths. 
 
 God in heaven, no ! I did not know it until - — 
 Oh, I can’t speak of it ! Why should I tell you about 
 it? Why should you be interested in hearing it? ” 
 Mrs. Wrandall drew back and regarded the girPs 
 set, unhappy face. There was a curious light in her 
 eyes that escaped the other’s notice, — a light that 
 would have puzzled her not a little. 
 
 But you will tell me — everything — a little later,” 
 she said, strangely calm. Not now, but. — before 
 many hours have passed. First of all, you must tell 
 me who you are, where you live, — everything except 
 what happened in Burton’s Inn. I don’t want to hear 
 that at present — perhaps never. Yes, on second 
 thoughts, I will say never! You are never to tell me 
 just what happened up there, or just what led up to 
 it. Do you understand? Never!” 
 
 The girl stared at her in amazement. But I — 
 I must tell some one,” she cried vehemently. I have 
 a right to defend myself — ” 
 
 I am not asking you to defend yourself,” said Mrs. 
 Wrandall shortly. Then, as if afraid to remain longer, 
 she rushed from the room. In the doorway, she turned 
 
HETTY CASTLETON 
 
 59 
 
 for an instant to say : Do as I told you. Telephone. 
 Dress as quickly as you can.” She closed the door 
 swiftly. 
 
 Standing in the centre of the room, her hands 
 clenched until the nails cut the flesh, she said over and 
 over again to herself : I don’t want to know ! I don’t 
 want to know! ” 
 
 A few minutes later she was critically inspecting 
 the young woman who came from the bedroom attired 
 in a street dress that neither of them had ever donned 
 before. The girl, looking fresher, prettier and even 
 younger than when she had seen her last, was in no way 
 abashed. She seemed to have accepted the garments 
 and the situation in the same spirit of resignation and 
 hope: as if she had decided to make the most of her 
 slim chance to profit by these amazing circumstances. 
 
 They sat opposite each other at the little breakfast 
 table. 
 
 Please pour the coffee,” said Mrs. Wrandall. The 
 ■waiter had left the room at her command. The girl’s 
 hand shook, but she complied without a word. 
 
 Now you may tell me who you are and — but 
 wait ! You are not to say anything about what hap- 
 pened at the inn. Guard your words carefully. I 
 am not asking for a confession. I do not care to know 
 what happened there. It will make it easier for me to 
 protect you. You may call it conscience. Keep your 
 big secret to yourself. Not one word to me. Do you 
 understand? ” 
 
 You mean that I am not to reveal, even to you, the 
 causes which led up to — ” 
 
 Nothing — absolutely nothing,” said Mrs. Wran- 
 dall firmly. 
 
 But I cannot permit you to judge me, to — well^ 
 
60 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 you might say to acquit me, — without hearing the 
 story. It is so vital to me.” 
 
 I can judge you without hearing all of the — the 
 evidence, if that’s what you mean. Simply answer the 
 questions I shall ask, and nothing more. There are 
 certain facts I must have from you if I am to shield 
 you. You must tell me the truth. I take it you are 
 an English girl. Where do you live? Who are your 
 friends? Where is your family?” 
 
 The girl’s face flushed for an instant and then grew 
 pale again. 
 
 I will tell you the truth,” she said. My name is 
 Hetty Castleton. My father is Col. Braid Castleton, 
 of — of the British army. My mother is dead. 
 She was Kitty Glynn, at one time a popular music-hall 
 performer in London. She was Irish. She died two 
 years ago. My father was a gentleman. I do not say 
 he is a gentleman, for his treatment of my mother re- 
 lieves him from that distinction. He is in the Far East, 
 China, I think. I have not seen him in more than five 
 years. He deserted my mother. That’s all there is 
 to that side of my story. I appeared in two or three 
 of the musical pieces produced in London two seasons 
 ago, in the chorus. I never got beyond that, for very 
 good reasons. I was known as Hetty Glynn. Three 
 weeks ago I started for New York, sailing from Liver- 
 pool. Previously I had served in the capacity of gov- 
 erness in the family of John Budlong, a brewer. They 
 had a son, a young man of twenty. Two months ago 
 I was dismissed. A California lady, Mrs. Holcom.be, 
 offered me a situation as governess to her two little girls 
 soon afterward. I was to go to her home in San Fran- 
 cisco. She provided the money necessary for the voy- 
 age and for other expenses. She is still in Europe. 
 
HETTY CASTLETON 
 
 61 
 
 I landed in New York a fortnight ago and, following 
 her directions, presented myself at a certain bank, — I 
 have the name somewhere — where my railroad tickets 
 were to be in readiness for me, with further instruc- 
 tions. They were to give me twenty-five pounds on 
 the presentation of my letter from Mrs. Holcombe. 
 They gave me the money and then handed me a cable- 
 gram from Mrs. Holcombe, notifying me that my serv- 
 ices would not be required. There was no explanation. 
 Just that. 
 
 On the steamer I met — him. His deck chair was 
 next to mine. I noticed that his name was Wrandall — 
 ‘ C. Wrandall ’ the card on the chair informed me. 
 
 I—’’ 
 
 You crossed on the steamer with him? ” interrupted 
 Mrs. Wrandall quickly. 
 
 Yes.’^ 
 
 Had — had you seen him before? In London?’^ 
 
 Never. Well, we became acquainted, as people do. 
 He — he was very handsome and agreeable.” She 
 paused for a moment to collect herself. 
 
 Very handsome and agreeable,” said the other 
 slowly. 
 
 « We got to be very good friends. There were not 
 many people on board, and apparently he knew none of 
 them. It was too cold to stay on deck much of the 
 time, and it was very rough. He had one of the splen- 
 did suites on the — ” 
 
 Pray omit unnecessary details. You landed and 
 went — where ? ” 
 
 He advised me to go to an hotel — I can’t recall the 
 name. It was rather an unpleasant place. Then I 
 went to the bank, as I have stated. After that I did 
 not know what to do. I was stunned, bewildered. I 
 
62 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 called him up on the telephone and — he asked me to 
 meet him for dinner at a queer little cafe, far down 
 town. We — ’’ 
 
 And you had no friends, no acquaintances here?’’ 
 
 No. He suggested that I go into one of the rnusi- 
 cal shows, saying he thought he could arrange it with 
 a manager who was a friend. Anything to tide me 
 over, he said. But I would not consider it, not for 
 an instant. I had had enough of the stage. I — I 
 am really not fitted for it. Besides, I am qualified — 
 well qualified — to he governess — but that is neither 
 here nor there. I had some money — perhaps forty 
 pounds. I found lodgings with some people in Nine- 
 teenth street. He never came there to see me. I can 
 see plainly now why he argued it would not be — well, 
 he used the word ^ wise.’ But we went occasionally to 
 dine together. We went about in a motor — a little 
 red one. He — he told me he loved me. That w^as 
 one night about a week ago. I — ” 
 
 I don’t care to hear about it,” cried the other. 
 
 No need of that. Spare me the silly side of the 
 story.” 
 
 Silly, madam? In God’s name, do you think it 
 was silly to me? Why- — why, I believed him! And, 
 what is more, I believe that he did love me — even now 
 I believe it.” 
 
 I have no doubt of it,” said Mrs, Wrandall calmly. 
 
 You are very pretty — and charming.” 
 
 « I — I (jy not know that he had a wife until — well, 
 until — ” She could not go on. 
 
 Night before last? ” 
 
 The girl shuddered. Mrs. Wrandall turned her face 
 av/ay and waited. 
 
 There is nothing more I can tell you, unless you 
 
HETTY CASTLETON 63 
 
 i 
 
 permit me to tell aZZ/’ the girl resumed after a mo- 
 ment of hesitation. 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall arose. 
 
 I have heard enough. This afternoon I will send 
 my butler with you to the lodging house in Nineteenth 
 street. He will attend to the removal of your personal 
 effects to my home, and you will return with him. It 
 will be testing fate, Miss Castleton, this visit to your 
 former abiding place, but I have decided to give the 
 law its chance. If you are suspected, a watch v/ill be 
 set over the house in which you lived. If you are not 
 suspected, if your association with — with Wrandall is 
 quite unknown, you will run no risk in going there 
 openly, nor will I be taking so great a chance as may 
 appear in offering you a home, for the time being at 
 least, as companion — or secretary or whatever we may 
 elect to call it for the benefit of all enquirers. Are yon 
 willing to run the risk — this single risk? ” 
 
 Perfectly willing,’^ announced the other without 
 hesitation. Indeed, her face brightened. “ If they are 
 waiting there for me, I shall go with them without a 
 word. I have no means of expressing my gratitude to 
 you for — ’’ 
 
 There is time enough for that,” said Mrs. Wran- 
 dall quickly. And if they are not there, you will re- 
 turn to me? You will not desert me now? ” 
 
 The girPs eyes grew wide with wonder. Desert 
 you? Why do you put it in that way? I don’t un- 
 derstand.” 
 
 You will come back to me? ” insisted the other. 
 
 Yes. Why, — why, it means everything to me. 
 It means life, — more than that, most wonderful friend. 
 Life isn’t very sweet to me. But the joy of giving it 
 to you for ever is the dearest boon I crave. I do give 
 
64 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 it to you. It belongs to you. I — I could die for 
 you.” 
 
 She dropped to her knees and pressed her lips to 
 Sara WrandalPs hand; hot tears fell upon it. 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall laid her free hand on the dark, glossy 
 hair and smiled ; smiled warmly for the first time in — 
 well, in years she might have said to herself if she had 
 stopped to consider. 
 
 “ Get up, my dear,” she said gently. I shall not 
 ask you to die for me — if you do come back. I may be 
 sending you to your death, as it is, but it is the chance 
 we must take. A few hours will tell the tale. Now 
 listen to what I am about to say, — to propose. I offer 
 you a home, I offer you friendship and I trust security 
 from the peril that confronts you. I ask nothing in 
 return, not even a word of gratitude. You may tell 
 the people at your lodgings that I have engaged you 
 as companion and that we are to sail for Europe in a 
 week’s time if possible. Now we must prepare to go 
 to my own home. You will see to packing my — that 
 is, our trunks — ” 
 
 Oh, it — it must be a dream ! ” cried Hetty Castle- 
 ton, her eyes swimming. I can’t believe ” Sud- 
 
 denly she caught herself up, and tried to smile. I 
 don’t see why you do this for me. I do not deserve — ” 
 
 You have done me a service,” said Mrs. Wrandall, 
 her manner so peculiar that the girl again assumed the 
 stare of perplexity and wonder that had been para- 
 mount since their meeting: as if she were on the verge 
 of grasping a great truth. 
 
 What can you mean? ” 
 
 Sara laid her hands on the girl’s shoulders and looked 
 steadily into the puzzled eyes for a moment before 
 speaking. 
 
HETTY CASTLETON 
 
 65 
 
 My girl,” she said, ever so gently, I shall not ask 
 what your life has been ; I do not care. I shall not ask 
 for references. You are alone in the world and you 
 need a friend. I too am alone. If you will come to me 
 I will do everything in my power to make you comfort- 
 able and — contented. Perhaps it will be impossible 
 to make you happy. I promise faithfully to help you, 
 to shield you, to repay you for the thing you have 
 done for me. You could not have fallen into gentler 
 hands than mine will prove to be. That much I swear 
 to you on my soul, which is sacred. I bear you no 
 ill-will. I have nothing to avenge.” 
 
 Hetty drew back, completely mystified. 
 
 ‘‘ Who are you ? ” she murmured, still staring, 
 am Challis WrandalPs wife.” 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 WHILE THE MOB WAITED 
 
 The next day but one, in the huge old-fashioned man- 
 sion of the Wrandalls in lower Fifth Avenue, in the 
 drawing-room directly beneath the chamber in which 
 Challis was born, the impressive but grimly conventional 
 funeral services were held. 
 
 Contrasting sharply with the sombre, absolutely cor- 
 rect atmosphere of the gloomy interior was the exte- 
 rior display of joyous curiosity that must have jarred 
 severely on the high-bred sensibilities of the chief 
 mourners, not to speak of the invited guests who had 
 been obliged to pass between rows of gaping bystand- 
 ers in order to reach the portals of the house of grief, 
 and who must have reckoned with extreme distaste the 
 cost of subsequent departure. A dozen raucous-voiced 
 policemen were employed to keep back the hundreds 
 that thronged the sidewalk and blocked the street. 
 Curiosity was rampant. Ever since the moment that 
 the body of Challis Wrandall was carried into the house 
 of his father, a motley, varying crowd of people shifted 
 restlessly in front of the mansion, filled with gruesome 
 interest in the absolutely unseen, animated by the sly 
 hope that something sensational might happen if they 
 waited long enough. 
 
 Men, women, cliildren struggled for places nearest 
 the tall iron fence surrounding the spare yard, and 
 gazed with awed but wistful eyes at the curtained win- 
 dows and at the huge bow of crepe on the massive por- 
 tals. In hushed voices they spoke of the murder and ex- 
 pressed a single opinion among them all : the law ought 
 
 66 
 
WHILE THE MOB WAITED 
 
 67 
 
 to make short work of her ! If this thing had happened 
 in England, said they who scoff at our own laws, there 
 wouldn’t be any foolishness about the business: the 
 woman would be buried in quickdime before you could 
 know what you were talking about. The law in this 
 country is a joke, said they, with great irritabilit3^ 
 Why can’t we do the business up, sharp and quick, as 
 they do in England ? Get it over with, that’s the ticket. 
 What’s the sense of dragging it out for a jrear? Send 
 ’em to the chair or hang ’em while everybody’s inter- 
 ested, not when the thing’s half forgotten. Who wants 
 to see a person hanged after the crime’s been forgotten? 
 And then, think of the saving to the State? Hang ’em, 
 men or women, and in a couple of years’ time there 
 wouldn’t be a tenth part of the murders we have now. 
 Statistics prove, went on the wise ones, that only one out 
 of every hundred is hanged. What’s that? The jury 
 system is rotten! No sirree, we are ’way behind Eng- 
 land in that respect. Just look at that big murder case 
 in London last month! Remember it? Murderer was 
 hanged inside of three weeks after he was caught. 
 That’s the way to do it ! And the London police catch 
 ’em too. Our police stand around doing nothing until 
 the criminal has got a week’s start, and then — oh, 
 well, what can you expect? “ Now if I was at the head 
 of the New York department I’d have that woman be- 
 hind the bars before night, that’s what I’d do. You 
 bet your life, I would,” said more than one. And no 
 one questioned his ability to do so. 
 
 And then all of them would growl at the police- 
 men who pushed them back from the gates, and call 
 them scabs ” and mutts ” in repressed tones, and 
 snarl under their breath that they wouldn’t be pushing 
 people around like that if they didn’t have stars and 
 
68 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 clubs and a great idea of their own importance. If it 
 wasn’t for the family at home dependin’ on me for sup- 
 port, I’d take a punch at that stiff, so help me God, 
 even if I went to the Island for it I ” 
 
 And so it was and ever shall be, world without end. 
 
 Newsboys, hoarse-voiced and pipe-voiced, mingled 
 with the crowd, and shrieked their extras under the 
 very noses of the always-aloof Wrandalls, who up to 
 this day had turned them up at the sight of a vulgar 
 extra, but who now looked down them with a trembling 
 of the nostrils that left no room for doubt as to their 
 present state of mind. 
 
 Up to the very portals these assiduous peddlers 
 yelped for pennies and gave in exchange the latest head- 
 lines. All about Mr. Challis Wran’all’s fun’ral!” 
 
 Horrible extry ! ” Ding-donging the thing in the 
 very ears of the dead man himself ! 
 
 Motor after motor, carriage after carriage, rolled 
 up to the curb and emptied its sober-faced, self-con- 
 scious occupants in front of the door with the great 
 black bow; with each arrival the crowd surged for- 
 ward, and names were muttered in undertones, passing 
 from lip to lip until every one in the street knew that 
 Mr. So-and-So, Mrs. This-or-That, the What-do-you- 
 call-ems and others of the city’s most exclusive but most 
 garishly advertised society leaders had entered the 
 house of mourning. It was a great show for the ple- 
 beian spectators. Much better than Miss So-and-So’s 
 wedding, said one woman who had attended the afore- 
 said ceremony as a unit in the well-dressed mob that 
 almost wrecked the carriages in the desire to see the 
 terrified bride. Better than a circus, said a man who 
 held his little daughter above the heads of the crowd 
 so that she might see the fine lady in a wild-beast fur. 
 
WHILE THE MOB WAITED 69 
 
 Swellest funeral New York ever had, remarked another, 
 excepting one Vay back when he was a kid. 
 
 At the corner below stood two patrol wagons, also 
 waiting. 
 
 Inside the house sat the carefully selected guests, 
 hushed and stiff and gratified. (Not because they 
 were attending a funeral, but because the occasion 
 served to separate them from the chaff : they were the 
 elect.) It would be going too far to intimate that they 
 were proud of themselves, but it is not stretching it 
 very much to say that they counted noses with con- 
 siderable satisfaction and were glad that they had not 
 been left out. The real, high-water mark in New York 
 society was established at this memorable function. It 
 was quite plain to every one that Mrs. Wrandall , — the 
 Mrs. Wrandall, — had made out the list of guests to 
 be invited to the funeral of her son. It was a blue- 
 stocking affair. You couldn’t imagine anything more 
 so. Afterwards, the two hundred who were there 
 looked with utmost pity and not a little scorn on the 
 other two hundred who failed to get in, notwithstanding 
 there was ample room in the spacious house for all of 
 them. There wasn’t a questionable guest in the house, 
 unless one were to question the right of the dead man’s 
 widow to be there — and, after all, she was upstairs 
 with the family. Even so, she was a Wrandall — re- 
 motely, of course, but recognisable. 
 
 Yes, they counted noses, so to say. As one after the 
 other arrived and was ushered into the huge drawing- 
 room, he or she was accorded a congratulatory look 
 from those already assembled, a tribute returned with 
 equal amiability. Each one noted who else was there, 
 and each one said to himself that at last they really 
 had something all to themselves. It was truly a pleas- 
 
70 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 ure, a relief, to be able to do something without being 
 pushed about by people who didn’t belong but thought 
 they did. They sat back, — stiffly, of course, — and 
 in utter stillness confessed that there could be such a 
 thing as the survival of the fittest. Yes, there wasn’t 
 a nose there that couldn’t be counted with perfect 
 serenity. It was a notable occasion. 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall, the elder, had made out the list. 
 She did not consult her daughter-in-law in the matter. 
 It is true that Sara forestalled her in a way by send- 
 ing word, through Leslie, that she would be pleased 
 if Mrs. Wrandall would issue invitations to as many of 
 Challis’s friends as she deemed advisable. As for her- 
 self, she had no wish in the matter ; she would be satis- 
 fied with whatever arrangements the family cared to 
 make. 
 
 It is not to be supposed, from the foregoing, that 
 Mrs. Wrandall, the elder, was not stricken to the heart 
 by the lamentable death of her idol. He was her idol. 
 He was her first-born, he was her love-born. He came 
 to her in the days when she loved her husband without 
 much thought of respecting him. She was beginning 
 to regard him as something more than a lover when 
 Leslie came, so it was different. When their daughter 
 Vivian was born, she was plainly annoyed but wholly 
 respectful. Mr. Wrandall was no longer the lover; 
 he was her lord and master. The head of the house 
 of Wrandall was a person to be looked up to, to be 
 respected and admired by her, for he was a very great 
 man, but he was dear to her only because he was the 
 father of Challis, the first-born. 
 
 In the order of her nature, Challis therefore was her 
 most dearly beloved, Vivian the least desired and last 
 in her affections as well as in sequence. 
 
WHILE THE MOB WAITED 71 
 
 Strangely enough, the three of them perfected a cu- 
 riously significant record of conjugal endowments. 
 Challis had always been the wild, wayward, unre- 
 strained one, and by far the most lovable; Leslie, al- 
 most as good looking but with scarcely a noticeable 
 trace of the charm that made his brother attractive; 
 Vivian, handsome, selfish and as cheerless as the wind 
 that blows across the icebergs in the north. Challis 
 had been born with a widely enveloping heart and an 
 elastic conscience ; Leslie with a brain and a soul and 
 not much of a heart, as things go ; Vivian with a soul 
 alone, which belonged to God, after all, and not to her. 
 Of course she had a heart, but it was only for the pur- 
 pose of pumping blood to remote extremities, and had 
 nothing whatever to do with anything so unutterably 
 extraneous as love, charity or self-sacrifice. : 
 
 As for Mr. Redmond Wrandall he was a very proper 
 and dignified gentleman, and old for his years. 
 
 Secretly, Vivian was his favourite. Moreover, pos- 
 sessing the usual contrariness of man, and having been 
 at one time or other, a hot-blooded lover, he professed 
 — also in secret — a certain admiration for the beauti- 
 ful, warm-hearted wife of his eldest son. He looked 
 upon her from a man’s point of view. He couldn’t 
 help that. Not once, but many times, had he said to 
 himself that perhaps Challis was lucky to have got 
 her instead of one of the girls his mother had chosen 
 for him out of the minute elect. 
 
 It may be seen, or rather surmised, that if the house 
 of Wrandall had not been so admirably centred under 
 its own vine and fig tree, it might have become divided 
 against itself without much of an effort. 
 
 Mrs. Redmond Wrandall was the vine and fig tree. 
 
 And now they had brought her dearly beloved son 
 
72 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 home to her, murdered and — disgraced. If it had 
 been either of the others, she could have said : God’s 
 will be done.” Instead, she cried out that God had 
 turned against her. 
 
 Leslie had had the bad taste — or perhaps it was 
 misfortune — to blurt out an agonised I told you 
 so ” at a time when the family was sitting numb and 
 hushed under the blight of the first horrid blow. He 
 did not mean to be unfeeling. It was the truth burst- 
 ing from his unhappy lips. ^ 
 
 I knew Chal would come to this — I knew it,” he 
 had said. His arm was about the quivering shoulders 
 of his mother as he said it. 
 
 She looked up, a sob breaking in her throat. For a 
 long time she looked into the face of her second son. 
 
 How can you — how dare you say such a thing 
 as that? ” she cried, aghast. 
 
 He coloured, and drew her closer to him. 
 
 I — I didn’t mean it,” he faltered. 
 
 You have always taken sides against him,” began 
 his mother. 
 
 Please, mother,” he cried miserably. 
 
 You say this to me she went on. You 
 
 who are left to take his place in my affection. — Why, 
 Leslie, I — I — ” 
 
 Vivian interposed. Les is upset, mamma darling. 
 You know he loved Challis as deeply as any of us 
 loved him.” 
 
 Afterwards the girl said to Leslie when they were 
 quite alone : She will never forgive you for that, 
 
 Les. It was a beastly thing to say.” 
 
 He bit his lip, which trembled. She’s never cared 
 for me as she cared for Chal. I’m sorry if I’ve made it 
 
 5? 
 
 worse. 
 
WHILE THE MOB WAITED 
 
 73 
 
 See here, Leslie, was Chal so' — so ” 
 
 Yes. I meant what I said a while ago. It was 
 sure to happen to him one time or another. Sara’s 
 had a lot to put up with.” 
 
 Sara! If she had been the right sort of a wife, 
 this never would have happened.” 
 
 After all is said and done, Vivie, Sara’s in a posi- 
 tion to rub it in on us if she’s of a mind to do so. She 
 won’t do it, of course, but — I wonder if she isn’t 
 gloating, just the same.” 
 
 Haven’t we treated her as one of us? ” demanded 
 she, dabbing her handkerchief in her eyes. “ Since 
 the wedding, I mean. Haven’t we been kind to her? ” 
 
 Oh, I think she understands us perfectly,” said her 
 brother. 
 
 I wonder what she will do now? ” mused Vivian, in 
 that speech casting her sister-in law out of her narrow 
 little world as one would throw aside a bumt-out 
 match. 
 
 She will profit by experience,” said he, with some 
 pleasure in a superior wisdom. 
 
 In Mrs. Wrandall’s sitting-room at the top of the 
 broad stairway, sat the family, — that is to say, the 
 immediate family, — a solemn-faced footman in front 
 of the door that stood fully ajar so that the occupants 
 might hear the words of the minister as they ascended, 
 sonorous and precise, from the hall below. A minister 
 was he who knew the buttered side of his bread. His 
 discourse was to be a beautiful one. He stood at the 
 front of the stairs and faced the assembled listeners 
 in the hall, the drawing-room and the entresol, but his 
 infinitely touching words went up one flight and lodged. 
 
 Sara Wrandall sat a little to the left of and behind 
 
74 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Mrs. Redmond Wrandall, about whom were grouped 
 the three remaining Wrandalls, father, son and daugh- 
 ter, closely drawn together. Well to the fore were 
 Wrandall uncles and cousins and aunts, and one or two 
 carefully chosen blood-relations to the mistress of the 
 house, whose hand had long been set against kinsmen 
 of less exalted promise. 
 
 The room was dark. A forgotten French clock 
 ticked madly and tinkled its quarter-hours with sur- 
 passing sprightliness. Time went on regardless. One 
 of the Wrandall uncles, obeying a look from his wife, 
 tiptoed across the room and tried to find a way to 
 subdue the jingling disturber. But it chimed in his 
 face, and he put his black kid glove over his lips. The 
 floor creaked horribly as he went back to his chair. 
 
 Beside Sara Wrandall, on the small pink divan, sat 
 a stranger in this sombre company: a young woman 
 in black, w^hose pale face was uncovered, and whose 
 lashes were lifted so rarely that one could not know of 
 the deep, real pain that lay behind them, in her Irish 
 blue eyes. 
 
 She had arrived at the house an hour or two before 
 the time set for the ceremony, in company with the 
 widow. True to her resolution, the widow of Challis 
 Wrandall had remained away from the home of his 
 people until the last hour. She had been consulted, 
 to be sure, in regard to the final arrangements, but the 
 meetings had taken place in her own apartment, many 
 blocks distant from the house in lower Fifth Avenue. 
 The afternoon before she had received Redmond Wran- 
 dall and Leslie, his son. She had not sent for them. 
 They came perfunctorily and not through any sense 
 of obligation. These two at least knew that sympa- 
 thy was not what she wanted, but peace. Twice dur- 
 
WHILE THE MOB WAITED 75 
 
 ing the two trying days, Leslie had come to see her. 
 Vivian telephoned. 
 
 On the occasion of his first visit, Leslie had met the 
 guest in the house. The second time he called, he made 
 it a point to ask Sara all about her. 
 
 It was he who gently closed the door after the two 
 women when, on the morning of the funeral, they en- 
 tered the dark, flower-laden room in which stood the 
 casket containing the body of his brother. He left 
 them alone together in that room for half an hour or 
 more, and it was he who went forward to meet them 
 when they came forth. Sara leaned on his arm as 
 she ascended the stairs to the room where the others 
 w^ere waiting. The ashen-faced girl followed, her eyes 
 lowered, her gloved hands clenched. 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall, the elder, kissed Sara and drew her 
 down beside her on the couch. To her own surprise, 
 as well as that of the others, Sara broke down and wept 
 bitterly. After all, she was sorry for Challis’s mother. 
 It was the human instinct ; she could not hold out 
 against it. And the older woman put away the ancient 
 grudge she held against this mortal enemy and dis- 
 solved into tears of real compassion. 
 
 A little later she whispered brokenly in Sara’s ear: 
 
 My dear, my dear, this has brought us together. I 
 hope you will learn to love me.” 
 
 Sara caught her breath, but uttered no word. She 
 looked into her mother-in-law’s eyes, and smiled through 
 her tears. The Wrandalls, looking on in amaze, 
 sav»r the smile reflected in the face of the older woman. 
 Then it was that Vivian crossed quickly and put her 
 arms about the shoulders of her sister-in-law. The 
 white flag on both sides. 
 
 Hetty Castleton stood alone and wavering, just in- 
 
76 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 side the door. No stranger situation could be imag- 
 ined than the one in which this unfortunate girl found 
 herself at the present moment. She was virtually in 
 the hands of those who would destroy her; she was in 
 the house of those who most deeply were affected by 
 her act on that fatal night. Among them all she 
 stood, facing them, listening to the moans and sobs, 
 and yet her limbs did not give way beneath her. . . . 
 
 Some one gently touched her arm. It was Leslie. 
 She shrank back, a fearful look in her eyes. In the 
 semi-darkness he failed to note the expression. 
 
 Won’t you sit here? ” he asked, indicating the little 
 pink divan against the wall. Forgive me for letting 
 you stand so long.” 
 
 She looked about her, the wild light still in her eyes. 
 She was like a rat in a trap. 
 
 Pier lips parted, but the word of thanks did not 
 come forth. A strange, inarticulate sound, almost a 
 gasp, came instead. Pallid as a ghost, she dropped 
 limply to the divan, and dug her fingers into the satiny 
 seat. As if fascinated, she stared over the black heads 
 of the three women immediately in front of her at the 
 full length portrait hanging where the light from the 
 hall fell full upon it: the portrait of a dashing youth 
 in riding togs. 
 
 A moment later Sara Wrandall came over and sat 
 beside her. The girl shivered as with a mighty chill 
 when the warm hand of her friend fell upon hers and 
 enveloped it in a firm clasp. 
 
 His mother kissed me,” whispered Sara. Did 
 you see? ” 
 
 The girl could not reply. She could only stare at 
 the open door. A small, hatchet-faced man had come 
 up from below and was nodding his head to Leslie 
 
WHILE THE MOB WAITED 
 
 7T 
 
 Wrandall, — a man with short side whiskers, and a 
 sepulchral look in his eyes. Then, having received a 
 sign from Leslie, he tiptoed away. Almost instantly 
 the voices of people singing softly came from some 
 distant, remote part of the house. 
 
 And then, a little later, the perfectly modulated 
 voice of a man in prayer. 
 
 Back of her, Wrandalls ; beside her, Wrandalls; be- 
 neath her, friends of the Wrandalls ; outside, the rab- 
 ble, those who would join with these black, raven-like 
 spectres in tearing her to pieces if they but knew! 
 
 Sitting, with his hand to his head, Leslie Wrandall 
 found himself staring at the face of this stranger 
 among them; not with any definable interest, but be- 
 cause she happened to be in his line of vision and her 
 face was so singularly white that it stood out in cameo- 
 like relief against all this ebony setting. 
 
 The droning voice came up from below, each well- 
 chosen word distinct and clear: tribute beautiful to the 
 irreproachable character of the deceased. Leslie 
 watched the face of the girl, curiously fascinated by 
 the set, emotionless features, and yet without a con- 
 scious interest in her. He was dully sensible to the 
 fact that she was beautiful, uncommonly beautiful. It 
 did not occur to him to feel that she was out of place 
 among them, that she belonged downstairs. Somehow 
 she was a part of the surroundings, like the spectre at 
 the feast. 
 
 If he could have witnessed all that transpired while 
 Sara was in the room below with her guest — her 
 companion, as he had come to regard her without hav- 
 ing in fact been told as much, — he would have been 
 lost in a maze of the most overwhelming emotions. 
 
 To go back: The door had barely closed behind 
 
78 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 the two women when Hetty’s trembling knees gave way 
 beneath her. With a low moan of horror, she slipped 
 to the floor, covering her face with her hands. 
 
 Sara knelt beside her. 
 
 Come,” she said gently, but firmly; I must exact 
 this much of you. If we are to go on together, as we 
 have planned, you must stand beside me at his bier. 
 Together we must look upon him for the last time. 
 You must see him as I saw him up there in the country. 
 I had my cruel blow that night. It is your turn now. 
 I will not blame you for what you did. But if you 
 expect me to go on believing that you did a brave 
 thing that night, you must convince me that you are 
 not a coward now. It is the only test I shall put you 
 to. Come ; I know it is hard, I know it is terrible, but 
 it is the true test of your ability to go through with 
 it to the end. I shall know then that you have the 
 courage to face anything that may come up.” 
 
 She waited a long time, her hand on the girPs shoul- 
 der. At last Hetty arose. 
 
 You are right,” she said hoarsely. I should not 
 be afraid.” 
 
 Later on, they sat over against the wall beyond the 
 casket, into which they had peered with widely varying 
 emotions. Sara had said: 
 
 You know that I loved him.” 
 
 The girl put her hands to her eyes and bowed her 
 head. 
 
 Oh, how can you be so merciful to me.^ ” 
 
 Because he was not,” said Sara, white-lipped., 
 Hetty glanced at the half-averted face with queer, 
 indescribable expression in her eyes. 
 
 Then her nerves gave way. She shrank away from 
 the casket, whimpering like a frightened child, mut- 
 
WHILE THE MOB WAITED 
 
 79 
 
 tering, almost gibbering in the extremity of despair. 
 She had lived in dread of this ordeal; it had been 
 promised the day before by Sara Wrandall, whose will 
 was law to her. Now she had come to the very apex 
 of realisation. She felt that her mind was going, that 
 her blood was freezing. In response to a sudden im- 
 pulse she sprang up and ran, blindly and without 
 thought, bringing up against the wall with such force 
 that she dropped to the floor, quite insensible. 
 
 When she regained her senses, she was lying back 
 in Sara WrandalPs arms, and a soft faraway voice was 
 pleading with her to wake, to say something, to open 
 her eyes. 
 
 If Leslie Wrandall could have looked in upon them 
 at that moment, or at any time during the half an hour 
 that followed, he would have known who was the slayer 
 of his brother, but it is doubtful if he could have had 
 the heart to denounce her to the world. 
 
 When they were ready to leave the room, Hetty 
 had regained control of her nerves to a most surpris- 
 ing extent, a condition unmistakably due to the influ- 
 ence of the older woman. 
 
 “ I can trust myself now, Mrs. Wrandall,” said 
 Hetty steadily as they hesitated for an instant before 
 turning the knob of the door. 
 
 Then, I shall ask you to open the door,” said Sara, 
 drawing back. 
 
 Without a word or a look, Hetty opened the door 
 and permitted the other to pass out before her. Then 
 she followed, closing it gently, even deliberately, but 
 not without a swift glance over her shoulder into the 
 depths of the room they were leaving. 
 
 Of the two, Sara Wrandall was the paler as they 
 went up the broad staircase with Leslie. 
 
80 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 The funeral oration by the Rev. Dv. Maltby dragged 
 on. Among all his hearers there was but one who be- 
 lieved the things he said of Challis Wrandall, and she 
 was one of two persons who, so the saying goes, are the 
 last to find a man out ; his mother and his sister. But 
 in this instance the mother was alone. The silent, 
 attentive guests on the lower floor listened in grim ap- 
 proval: Dr. Maltby was doing himself proud. Not 
 one but all of them knew that Maltby knew. And yet 
 how soothing he was. 
 
 Thus afterwards, to his wife, on the way home after 
 a fruitful silence, spoke Colonel Berkimer, well knovm 
 to the Tenderloin : 
 
 When I die, my dear, I want you to be sure to have 
 Maltby in for the sermon. He’s really wonderful.” 
 
 You don’t mean to say you believed all that he 
 said,” cried his wife. 
 
 Certainly he snapped. That’s the point.” 
 
 Once at the end of a beautifully worded sentence, 
 eulogistic of the dead man’s character as a son and 
 husband, the tense silence of the room upstairs was 
 shattered by the utterance of a single, poignant word : 
 ^^God!” 
 
 It was so expressive of surprise, of scorn, of con- 
 tempt, although spoken in little more than a whisper, 
 that every one in the room caught his or her breath in 
 a sharp little gasp, as if cringing from the effect of an 
 unexpected shock to a sensitive nerve. 
 
 Each looked at his neighbour and then in a shocked 
 sort of way at every one else, for no one could quite 
 make out who had uttered the word, and each wondered 
 if, in a fit of abstraction, he could have done it him- 
 self. It unmistakably had been the voice of a woman, 
 but whose. ^ Hetty knew, but not by the slightest sign 
 
WHILE THE MOB WAITED 
 
 81 
 
 did she betray the fact that the woman who sat beside 
 her was the one to utter the brief but scathing estimate 
 of the minister’s eulogy. 
 
 The hatchet-faced little undertaker stood in the open 
 door again and solemnly bowed his head to Leslie, lift- 
 ing his dolorous eyebrows in lieu of the verbal question. 
 Receiving a simple nod in reply, he announced that as 
 soon as the guests had departed he would be pleased to 
 have the family descend to the carriages. 
 
 Outside, the shivering, half-frozen multitude edged 
 its way up to the line of blue-coats and again whis- 
 pered the names of the departing guests, and every neck 
 was craned in the effort to secure the first view of the 
 casket, the silk-hatted pall-bearers and the weeping 
 members of the family. 
 
 They’ll be out with ’im in a minute now,” said a 
 hoarse-voiced man who clung to the ornamental face 
 of the tall gate and passed back the word, for he could 
 see beyond the stream of guests into the hallway of 
 the house. 
 
 “ Git down out o’ that,” commanded a policeman 
 tapping him sharply with his night-stick. 
 
 “ Aw, I ain’t botherin’ anybody — ” 
 
 Git down, I say ! ” 
 
 Grumbling, the man slunk back, and a woman took 
 his place. This was better for the crowd, as her voice 
 was shriller and she had less compunction about mak- 
 ing herself heard. 
 
 A small boy crept beyond the line and peered, round- 
 eyed, up the carpeted steps. He received a sharp 
 push from a night-stick and went blubbering back into 
 the crowd. 
 
 And all through the eager, seething mob went sharp- 
 eyed men in plain clothes, searching each face with 
 
82 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 crafty eyes, looking for the sign that might betray the 
 woman who had brought all this about. They were 
 men from the central office. Another of their ilk had 
 the freedom of the house in the guise of an undertak- 
 er’s assistant. He watched the favoured few ! 
 
 There is a saying that a strange, mysterious force 
 drags the murderer to the scene of his crime, whether he 
 will or no, to look with others upon the havoc he has 
 wrought. He has been known to sit beside the bier of 
 his victim; he has been known to follow him to the 
 tomb ; he has been known to betray himself at the very 
 edge of the grave. A grim, fantastic thing is con- 
 science ! 
 
 At last the crowd gave out a deep, hissing breath 
 and surged forward. They were bearing Challis 
 Wrandall down the steps. The wall of policemen held 
 firm ; the morbid hundreds fell back and glared with 
 unblinking eyes at the black thing that slowly crossed 
 the sidewalk and slid noiselessly into the yawning mouth 
 of the hearse. No man in all that mob uncovered his 
 head, no woman crossed herself. Inwardly they re- 
 viled the police who kept them from seeing all that 
 they wanted to see. They were being cheated. 
 
 Then there was an eager shout from the foremost 
 in the throng, and the word went singing through the 
 crowd, back to the outer fringe, where men danced 
 like so many jumping-jacks in the effort to see above 
 the heads of those in front. 
 
 Here they come ! ” went the hoarse whisper, like 
 the swish of the wind. 
 
 Stand back, please ! ” 
 
 That’s his mother ! ” cried a shrill voice, trium- 
 phantly, — even gladly. She was the first to give the 
 news. 
 
WHILE THE MOB WAITED 83 
 
 Keep back ! ” growled the police, lifting their 
 clubs. 
 
 Which one is his wife? ” 
 
 Has she come out yet? ” 
 
 “ Get out of my way, damn you ! ” 
 
 “ Say, if these cops was doing their duty they’d — ” 
 ‘^That’s what I say! No wonder they never ketch 
 anybody.” 
 
 “ Say, they don’t seem to be takin’ it very hard. I 
 thought they’d be cryin’ like — ” 
 
 Is that his wife? ” 
 
 Poor little thing! Ouch! You big ruffian ! ” 
 
 Swell business, eh? ” 
 
 “ She won’t be sayin’ ^ Where’s my wanderin’ 
 boy — ’ ” 
 
 If we had police in this city that could ketch a 
 street car we’d — ” 
 
 That’s old man Wrandall. I’ve waited on him 
 dozens o’ times.” 
 
 Did they have any children? ” 
 
 Up in the front rank stood a slim little thing with yel- 
 low hair and carmined lips, wrapped in costly furs yet 
 shivering as if chilled to the bone. Four plain clothes 
 men were watching her narrowly. She was known 
 to have been one of Challis Wrandall’s associates^ 
 WTien she shrank back into the crowd and made her way 
 to the outskirts, hurrying as if pursued by ghosts, two 
 men followed close behind, and kept her in sight for 
 many blocks. 
 
 The m.otors and carriages rolled away, and there 
 was left only the policemen and the unsatiated mob. 
 They watched the undertaker’s assistant remove the 
 great bow of black from the door of the house. 
 
84i 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 By the end of the week the murder of Challis Wran- 
 dall was forgotten by all save the police. The inquest 
 was over, the law was baffled, the city was serenely 
 waiting for its next sensation. No one cared. 
 
 Leslie Wrandall went down to the steamer to see his 
 sister-in-law off for Europe. 
 
 Good-bye, Miss Castleton,” he said, as he shook 
 the hand of the slim young Englishwoman at parting. 
 
 Take good care of Sara. She needs a friend, a good 
 friend, now. Keep her over there until she has — for- 
 gotten.^’ 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 DISCUSSING A SISTEU-IN-I^W 
 
 Yojj remember my sister-in-law, don’t you, Brandy? ’’ 
 was the question that Leslie Wrandall put to a friend 
 one afternoon, as they sat drearily in a window of one 
 of the fashionable up-town clubs, a little more than a 
 year after the events described in the foregoing chap- 
 ters, Drearily, I have said, for the reason that it was 
 Sunday^ and raining at that. 
 
 I met Mrs. Wrandall a few years ago in Rome,’^ 
 said his companion, renewing interest in a conversation 
 that had died some time before of its own exhaustion. 
 
 She’s most attractive. I saw her but once. I think 
 it was at somebody’s fete.” 
 
 She’s returning to New York the end of the month,” 
 said Leslie. Been abroad for over a year. She had 
 a villa at Nice this winter.” 
 
 I remember her quite well. I was of an age then 
 to be particularly sensitive to female loveliness. If 
 I’d been staying on in Rome, I should have screwed up 
 the courage, I’m sure, to have asked her to sit for me.” 
 
 Lord love you, man, she’s posed for half the paint- 
 ers in the world, it seems to me. Like the duchesses that 
 Romney and those old chaps used to paint. It occurs 
 to me those grand old dames did nothing but sit for 
 portraits, year in and year out, all their lives. I don’t 
 see where they found time to scratch up the love affairs 
 they’re reported to have had. There always must have 
 been some painter or other hanging around. I re- 
 member reading that the Duchess of — I can’t remem- 
 ber the name — posed a hundred and sixty-nine times? 
 
86 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 for nearly as many painters. Sara’s not so bad as all 
 that, of course, but I don’t exaggerate when I say she’s 
 been painted a dozen times — and hung in twice as 
 many exhibits.” 
 
 I know,” said the other with a smile. I’ve seen 
 a few of them.” 
 
 The best of them all is hanging in her place up 
 in the country, old man. It’s the one my brother liked. 
 A Belgian fellow did it a couple of years ago. Never 
 been exhibited, so of course you haven’t seen it. Chal- 
 lis wouldn’t consent to its being revealed to the vulgar 
 gaze, he loved it so much.” 
 
 “ I like that,” resented Brandon Booth, with a mild 
 glare. 
 
 Lot of common, vulgar people do hang about pic- 
 ture galleries, you v/ill have to admit that, Brandy. 
 They visit ’em in the winter time to get in where it’s 
 warm, and in the summer time they go because it’s nice 
 and shady. That’s the sort I mean.” 
 
 What do you know about art or the people who — ” 
 
 I know all there is to know about it, old chap. 
 Haven’t we got Gainsboroughs, and Turners, and Con- 
 stables, and Corots hanging all over the place And 
 a lot of others, too. Reynolds, Romney and Rae- 
 burn, — the three R’s. And didn’t I tag along with 
 mother to picture dealers’ shops and auctions w^hen 
 every blessed one of ’em was bought? I know all about 
 it, let me tell you. I can tell you what kind of an ‘ at- 
 mosphere ’ a painting’s got, with my eyes closed ; and 
 as for ^ quality ’ and ‘ luminosity ’ and ^ broadness ’ 
 and ‘ handling,’ I know more this minute about such 
 things than any auctioneer in the world. I am a past 
 master at it, believe me. One can’t go around buy- 
 ing paintings with his mother without getting a liberal 
 
DISCUSSING A SISTER-IN-LAW 
 
 87 
 
 education in art. She began taking me when I was ten 
 years old. Challis wouldn’t go, so she made me do it. 
 Then I always had to go back with her when she 
 wanted to exchange them for something else the dealer 
 assured her she ought to have in our collection, and 
 which invariably cost three times as much. No, my 
 dear fellow, you are very much mistaken when you say 
 that I don’t know anything about art. I am a walk- 
 ing price-list of all the art this side of the Dresden 
 gallery. You should not forget that we are a very old 
 New York family. We’ve been collecting for over 
 twenty years.” 
 
 Both laughed. He liked Wrandall best when he 
 affected mockery of this sort, although he was keenly 
 alive to a certain breath of self-glorification in his 
 raillery. Leslie felt a delicious sense of security in 
 railing at family limitations: he knew that no one 
 was likely to take him seriously. 
 
 Nevertheless, your mother has some really fine 
 paintings in the collection,” proclaimed Booth amia- 
 bly, also descending to snobbishness without really 
 meaning to do so. He considered Velasquez to be the 
 superior of all those mentioned by Wrandall, and there 
 was the end to it, so far as he was concerned. It was 
 ever a source of wonder to him that Mrs. Wrandall 
 didn’t trade in ” everything else she possessed for a 
 single great Velasquez. 
 
 “ Getting back to Sara, — my sister-in-law, — why 
 don’t you ask her to sit for you this summer She’s 
 not going out, you know, and time will hang so heavily 
 on her hands that she will even welcome another por- 
 trait agony.” 
 
 I can’t ask her to — ” 
 
 I’ll do the asking, if you say the word.” 
 
88 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Don’t be an ass.” 
 
 I’m quite willing to be one, if it will help you out, 
 old man,” said Leslie cheerfully. 
 
 And make one of me as well, I suppose. She’d 
 think me a frightful cub after all those other fellows. 
 After Sargent, met Ho, ho ! She’d laugh in my 
 face.” 
 
 If you could paint that smile of hers. Brandy, 
 you’d make Romney look like an amateur. Most won- 
 derful smile. It’s a splendid idea. Let her laugh in 
 your face, as you say; then paint like the devil while 
 she’s doing it, and your reputation is made for — ” 
 
 Will you have another drink? ” 
 
 No, thanks. I can change the subject without it. 
 What time is it ? ” 
 
 Both looked at their watches, and put them back 
 again without remark to resume the interrupted con- 
 templation of Fifth Avenue in the waning light of a 
 drab, drizzly day. A man in a shiny slicker ” was 
 pushing a sweep and shovel in the centre of the thor- 
 oughfare. They wondered how long it would be be- 
 fore a motor struck him. 
 
 Brandon Booth was of an old Philadelphia family: 
 an old and wealthy family. Both views considered, he 
 was qualified to walk hand in glove with the fastidious 
 Wrandalls. Leslie’s mother was charmed with him be- 
 cause she was also the mother of Vivian. The fact 
 that he went in for portrait painting and seemed averse 
 to subsisting on the generosity of his father, preferring 
 to live by his talent, in no way operated against him, so 
 far as Mrs. Wrandall was concerned. That was his 
 lookout, not hers ; if he elected to that sort of thing, 
 all well and good. He could afford to be eccentric; 
 there remained, in the perspective he scorned, the bulk 
 
DISCUSSING A SISTER-IN-LAW 
 
 89 
 
 of a huge fortune to offset whatever idiosyncrasies he 
 might choose to cultivate. Some day, in spite of him- 
 self, she contended serenely, he would be very, very 
 rich. What could be more desirable than fame, family 
 and fortune all heaped together and thrust upon one 
 exceedingly interesting and handsome young man? 
 For he would be famous, she was sure of it. Every one 
 said that of him, even the critics, although she didn’t 
 have much use for critics, retaining opinions of her 
 own that seldom agreed with theirs. It was enough 
 for her that he was a Booth, and knew how to behave 
 in a drawing-room, because he belonged there and was 
 not lugged in by the scruff of an ill-fitting dress-suit 
 to pose as a Bohemian celebrity. Moreover, he was a 
 level-headed, well-balanced fellow in spite of his call- 
 ing; which was saying a great deal, proclaimed the 
 mother of Vivian in opposition to her own argument 
 that painters never made satisfactory or even satisfy- 
 ing husbands: the artistic temperament and all that 
 sort of thing getting in the way of compatibility. 
 
 He had been the pupil of celebrated draughtsmen and 
 painters in Europe, and had exhibited a sincerity of 
 purpose that was surprising, all things considered. 
 The mere fact that he was not obliged to paint in order 
 to obtain a living, was sufficient cause for wonder 
 among the artists he met and studied with or under. 
 At first they regarded him as a youth with a fancy 
 that soon would pass, leaving him high and dry and 
 safe on something steadier than Art. They couldn’t 
 understand a rich man’s son really having aspirations, 
 although they granted him temperament and ability. 
 But he went about it so earnestly, so systematically, 
 that they were compelled to alter the time-honoured 
 tune and to sing praises instead of whistling their in- 
 
90 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 suiting I-told-you-sos.” To the disgust of many, he 
 had a real purpose supported by talent, and that was 
 what they couldn’t understand in a rich man’s son. 
 They hated to see their traditions spoiled. The only 
 way in which they could account for it all was that he 
 was an American, and Americans are always doing 
 the things one doesn’t expect them to do, especially 
 along grooves that ought to be kept closed by tra- 
 dition. 
 
 When he said good-bye to his European friends and 
 masters, and set his face toward home, they took off 
 their hats to him, so to speak, and agreed that he had 
 a brilliant future, without a thought of the legacy that 
 one day would be his. 
 
 His studio in New York was not a fashionable rest- 
 ing place. It was a work-shop. You could have tea 
 there, of course, and you were sure to meet people you 
 knew and liked, but it was quite as much of a work-shop 
 as any you could mention. He was not a dabbler in 
 art, not a mere dauber of pigments : he was an artist. 
 People argued that because he was a thoroughbred 
 and doomed to be rich, his conscious egotism would 
 show itself at once in the demand for ridiculously high 
 prices. In that they happily were fooled, not to say 
 disappointed. He began by painting the portrait of 
 a well-known society woman of great wealth, who sat 
 to him because she wanted to take him up,” and who 
 was absolutely disconsolate when he announced, at the 
 end of the sittings, that his price was five hundred dol- 
 lars. She would not believe her ears. 
 
 Why, my dear Brandon, you will be ruined — ut- 
 terly ruined — if it becomes known that you ask less 
 than five thousand,” she had cried, almost in tears. 
 
 No one will come to you.” 
 
DISCUSSING A SISTER-IN-LAW 
 
 91 
 
 He had smiled. A master’s price is for a master, 
 not for a tyro. If they want to pay five thousand dol- 
 lars for a portrait, I can recommend a dozen or more 
 gentlemen whose work is worth it. Mine isn’t. Some 
 day I hope to be able to say five thousand with a great 
 deal more assurance than I now say five hundred, Mrs. 
 Wheeler, but it won’t be until I have courage, not 
 nerve.” 
 
 But nobody will sit for a five hundred dollar por- 
 trait,” she expostulated. Really, Brandon, I pre- 
 fer to pay five thousand. I can’t — I simply cannot 
 tell people that I paid only five — ” 
 
 « Will you give six hundred?” he asked, his smile 
 broadening. 
 
 Absurd ! ” 
 
 “ Seven hundred ? ” 
 
 Why, it sounds as if you were jewing me up, not 
 I trying to jew you down,” she cried, dismayed. 
 
 That’s the point,” he said, with mock gravity. 
 
 If my price isn’t what it ought to be in your opinion, 
 it is only fair that I should make concessions. My pic- 
 ture is worth five hundred dollars, but I am willing to 
 do a little better than that by you. I will make it 
 seven-fifty to you, but not a cent more.” 
 
 Can’t I jew you up any higher, dear boy? ” 
 
 No,” with a smile; but if jmu will consent to sit 
 to me ten years from now, I promise faithfully to ask 
 five thousand of you without a blush.” 
 
 Ah, but ten years from now I should blush to even 
 think of having my portrait painted.” 
 
 Ten years will make no change in you,” said he 
 gallantly, but I expect them to make quite another 
 artist of me.” 
 
 And so his price was established for the time being. 
 
92 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 He offset the chilling effect of the low figure by de- 
 liberately declining commissions to paint women who 
 fell below a rather severe standard of personal attract- 
 iveness. Gross women were not allowed to crowd his 
 canvases ; ugly ones who succeeded in tempting him 
 were surprised to find how ugly they really were when 
 the portrait was finished. He made it a point never 
 to lie about a woman, not even on canvas. It made him 
 very unpopular with certain ladies who wanted to be 
 lied about — on canvas. 
 
 As the result of his rather independent attitude, he 
 had more commissions than he could fill. When it got 
 about that he cared to paint only attractive women, his 
 studio was besieged by ladies of a curious turn of mind. 
 If they discovered that he was willing to paint them, 
 they blissfully dropped the matter and went happily 
 on their way. If they found that his time was so fully 
 occupied that he could not paint them they urged him 
 to reconsider — even offering to quadruple his price 
 if he would only do them. One exceedingly plain 
 woman, who couldn’t be reconciled to Nature, offered 
 him twenty thousand dollars if he would paint her for 
 the Metropolitan Museum. Another asked him if he 
 was a pupil of Gainsborough. Finding that he was not, 
 she asked why not, with all the money he had at his 
 command. 
 
 He had been in New York for the better part of two 
 years at the time he is introduced into this narrative. 
 Years of his life had been spent abroad, yet he was not 
 a stranger in a strange land when he took up his resi- 
 dence in Gotham. Society opened its arms to him. It 
 was like a home-coming. Had he been a bridge player, 
 his coronation might have been complete. 
 
 Booth was thirty, — perhaps a year or two older ; 
 
DISCUSSING A SISTER-IN-LAW 
 
 93 
 
 tall, dark and good-looking. The air of the thorough- 
 bred marked him. He did not affect loose flowing cra- 
 vats and baggy trousers, nor was he careless about 
 his finger-nails. He was simply the ordinary, every- 
 day sort of chap you would meet in Fifth Avenue dur- 
 ing parade hours, and you would take a second look 
 at him because of his face and manner but not on ac- 
 count of his dress. Some of his ancestors came over 
 ahead of the Mayflower, but he did not gloat. 
 
 Leslie Wrandall was his closest friend and harshest 
 critic. It didn’t really matter to Booth what Leslie 
 said of his paintings : he quite understood that he didn’t 
 know anything about them. 
 
 When does Mrs. Wrandall return.^” asked the 
 painter, after a long period of silence spent in con- 
 templation of the gleaming pavement beyond the club’s 
 window. 
 
 “ That’s queer,” said Leslie, looking up. I was 
 thinking of Sara myself. She sails next week. I’ve 
 had a letter asking me to open her house in the country. 
 Her place is about two miles from father’s. It hasn’t 
 been opened in two years. Her father built it fifteen or 
 twenty years ago, and left it to her when he died. She 
 and Challis spent several summers there.” 
 
 Vivian took me through it one afternoon last sum- 
 mer.” 
 
 It must have been quite as much of a novelty to her 
 as it was to you, old chap,” said Leslie gloomily. 
 
 What do you mean?” 
 
 Vivian’s a bit of a snob. She never liked the place 
 because old man Gooch built it out of worsteds. She 
 never went there.” 
 
 But the old man’s been dead for years.” 
 
 “ That doesn’t matter. The fact is, Vivian didn’t 
 
94 
 
 THE HOLI/)W OF HER HAND 
 
 quite take to Sara until after — well, until after Chal- 
 lis died. We’re dreadful snobs, Brandy, the whole lot 
 of us. Sara was quite good enough for a much better 
 man than my brother. She really couldn’t help the 
 worsteds, you know. I’m very fond of her, and always 
 have been. We’re pals. ’Gad, it was a fearful slap 
 at the home folks when Challis justified Sara by getting 
 snuffed out the way he did.” 
 
 Booth made an attempt to change the subject, but 
 Wrandall got back to it. 
 
 Since then we’ve all been exceedingly sweet on Sara. 
 Not because we want to be, mind you, but because we’re 
 afraid she’ll marry some chap who wouldn’t be accept- 
 able to us.” 
 
 I should consider that a very neat way out of it,” 
 said Booth coldly. 
 
 Not at all. You see, Challis was fond of Sara, 
 in spite of everything. He left a will and under it 
 she came in for all he had. As that includes a third 
 interest in our extremely refined and irreproachable 
 business, it would be a deuce of a trick on us if she mar- 
 ried one of the common people and set him up amongst 
 us, willy-nilly. We don’t want strange bed-fellows. 
 We’re too snug — and, I might say, too smug. Down 
 in her heart, mother is saying to herself it would be 
 just like Sara to get even with us by doing just that 
 sort of a trick. Of course, Sara is rich enough without 
 accepting a sou under the will, but she’s a canny per- 
 son. She hasn’t handed it back to us on a silver plat- 
 ter, with thanks; still, on the other hand, she refuses 
 to meddle. She makes us feel pretty small. She won’t 
 sell out to us. She just sits tight. That’s what gets 
 under the skin with mother.” 
 
 I wouldn’t say that, Les, if I were in your place.” 
 
DISCUSSING A SISTER-IN-LAW 
 
 95 
 
 “ It is a rather priggish thing to say, isn’t it? ” 
 
 Rather.” 
 
 You see, I’m the only one who really took sides with 
 Sara. I forget myself sometimes. She was such a 
 brick, all those years.” 
 
 Booth was silent for a moment, noting the reflective 
 look in his companion’s eyes. 
 
 I suppose the police haven’t given up the hope 
 that sooner or later the — er — the woman will do 
 something to give herself away,” said he. 
 
 They don’t take aiiy stock in my theory that she 
 made way with herself the same night. I v/as talking 
 with the chief yesterday. He says that any one who 
 had wit to cover up her tracks as she did, is not the kind 
 to make way with herself. Perhaps he’s right. It 
 sounds reasonable. ’Gad, I felt sorry for the poor 
 girl they had up last spring. She went through the 
 third degree, if ever any one did, but, by Jove, she 
 came out of it all right. The Ashtley girl, you re- 
 member. I’ve dreamed about that girl. Brandy, and 
 what they put her through. It’s a sort of nightmare 
 to me, even when I’m awake. Oh, they’ve questioned 
 others as well, but she was the only one to have the 
 screws twisted in just that way.” 
 
 Where is she now? ” 
 
 She’s comfortable enough now. When I wrote to 
 Sara about what she’d been through, she settled a neat 
 bit of money on her, and she’ll never want for anything. 
 She’s out West somewhere, with her mother and sisters. 
 I tell you, Sara’s a wonder. She’s got a heart of 
 gold.” 
 
 I look forward to meeting her, old m.an.” 
 
 I was with her for a few weeks this winter. In 
 Nice, you know. Vivian stayed on for a week, but 
 
96 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 mother had to get to the baths. ’Gad, I believe she 
 hated to go. Sara’s got a most adorable girl stay- 
 ing with her. A daughter of Colonel Castleton, and 
 she’s connected in some way with the Murgatroyds — 
 old Lord Murgatroyd, you know. I think her mother 
 was a niece of the old boy. Anyhow, mother and Viv- 
 ian have taken a great fancy to her. That’s proof of 
 the pudding.” 
 
 I think Vivian mentioned a companion of some 
 sort.” 
 
 You wouldn’t exactly call her a companion,” said 
 Leslie. “ She’s got money to burn, I take it. Quite 
 keeps up with Sara in making it fly, and that’s saying 
 a good deal for her resources. I think it’s a pose on 
 her part, this calling herself a companion. An English 
 joke, eh? As a matter of fact, she’s an old friend of 
 Sara’s and my brother’s too. Knew them in England. 
 Most delightful girl. Oh, I say, old man, she's the 
 one for you to paint.” Leslie waxed enthusiastic. A 
 type, a positive type. Never saw such eyes in all my 
 life. Dammit, they haunt you. You dream about 
 ’em.” 
 
 You seem to be hard hit,” said Booth indifferently. 
 He was watching the man in the slicker ” through 
 moody eyes. 
 
 Oh, nothing like that,” disclaimed Leslie, with un- 
 necessary promptness. “ But if I were given to that 
 sort of thing, I’d be bowled over in a minute. Posi- 
 tively adorable face. If I thought you had it in you to 
 paint a thing as it really is, I’d commission you myself 
 to do a miniature for me, just to have it around where 
 I could pick it up when I liked and hold it between my 
 hands, just as I’ve often wanted to hold the real thing.” 
 
 Come, come! You’re dotty about her.” 
 
DISCUSSING A SISTER-IN-LAW 
 
 97 
 
 Get Vivian to tell you about her,” said Leslie sweep- 
 ingly. Come down and have dinner with me to-night. 
 She’ll bear out — ” 
 
 I’ll take your word for it. Thanks for the bid, 
 but I can’t come. Dining at the Ritz with Joey and 
 Linda. I think I’ll be off.” 
 
 He stretched himself, took the final, reluctant look 
 of the artist at the slicker ” man, and moved away. 
 Leslie called after him: 
 
 Wait till you see her.” 
 
 All right. I’ll wait.” 
 
 Sara Wrandall returned to New York at the end of 
 the month, and Leslie met her at the dock, as he did 
 on an occasion fourteen months earlier. Then she 
 came in on a fierce gale from the wintry Atlantic ; this 
 time the air was soft and balmy and sweet with the 
 kindness of spring. It was May and the sea was blue, 
 the land was green. 
 
 Again she went to the small, exclusive hotel near the 
 Park. Her apartment was closed, the butler and his 
 wife and all of their hastily recruited company being 
 in the country, awaiting her arrival from town. Les- 
 lie attended to everything. He lent his resourceful 
 man-servant and his motor to his lovely sister-in-law, 
 and saw to it that his mother and Vivian sent flowers 
 to the ship. Redmond Wrandall called at the hotel 
 immediately after banking hours, kissed his daughter- 
 in-law, and delivered an ultimatum second-hand from 
 the power at home: she was to come to dinner and 
 bring Miss Castleton. A little quiet family dinner, 
 you know, because they were all in mourning, he said in 
 conclusion, vaguely realising all the while that it really 
 wasn’t necessary to supply the information, but, for 
 
98 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 the life of him, unable to think of anything else to say 
 under the circumstances. Somehow it seemed to him 
 that while Sara was in black she was not in mourning 
 in the same sense that the rest of them were. It seemed 
 only right to acquaint her with the conditions in his 
 household. And he knew that he deserved the scowl 
 that Leslie bestowed upon him. 
 
 Sara accepted, much to his surprise and gratification. 
 He had been rather dubious about it. It would not 
 have surprised him in the least if she had declined the 
 invitation, feeling, as he did, that he had in a way come 
 to her with a white flag or an olive branch or whatever 
 it is that a combative force utilises when it wants to 
 surrender in the cause of humanity. 
 
 Leslie was a very observing person. It might have 
 been said of him that he was always on the lookout for 
 the things that most people were unlikely to notice: 
 the trivial things that really were important. He not 
 only took in his father’s amiable blunder, but caught 
 the curious expression in Hetty’s dark blue eyes, and 
 the sharp almost inaudible catch of her breath. The 
 gleam was gone in an instant, but it made an impres- 
 sion on him. He found himself wondering if the girl 
 was a snob as well as the rest of them. The look in 
 her eyes betrayed unmistakable surprise and — yes, he 
 was quite sure of it — dismay when Sara accepted the 
 invitation to dine. Was it possible that the lovely Miss 
 Castleton considered herself — but no ! Of course it 
 couldn’t be that. The Wrandalls were good enough for 
 dukes and duchesses. Still he could not get beyond the 
 fact that he had seen the look of disapproval. ’Gad, 
 thought he, it was almost a look of appeal. He made 
 up his mind, as he stood there chatting with her, that 
 he would find out from Vivian what his mother had 
 
DISCUSSING A SISTER-IN-LAW 
 
 99 
 
 done to create an unpleasant estimate of the family in 
 the eyes of this gentle, refined cousin of old Lord Mur- 
 gatro3^d. 
 
 He was quite as quick to detect the satirical smile 
 in Sara’s frank, amused eyes as she graciously accepted 
 the invitation to the home whose doors had only been 
 half-open to her in the past. It scratched his pride a 
 bit to think of the opinion she must have of the family, 
 and he was inexpressibly glad that she could not con- 
 sistently class him with the others. He found himself 
 feeling a bit sorry for the old gentleman, and hoped that 
 he missed the touch of irony in Sara’s voice. 
 
 Old Mr. Wrandall floundered from one invitation to 
 another. 
 
 Of course, Sara, my dear, you will want to go out 
 to the cemetery to-morrow. I shall be only too ready 
 to accompany you. We have erected a splendid — ” 
 
 “ No, thank you, Mr. Wrandall,” she interrupted 
 gently. I shall not go to the cemetery.” 
 
 Leslie intervened. You understand, don’t you, 
 father? ” he said, rather out of patience. 
 
 The old gentleman lowered his head. Yes, 3^es,” 
 he hastened to say. Quite so, quite so. Then we 
 may expect you at eight, Sara, and you. Miss Castle- 
 ton. Mrs. Wrandall is looking forward to seeing you 
 again. It isn’t often she takes a liking to — ahem ! 
 I beg your pardon, Leslie? ” 
 
 I was just going to suggest that we move along, 
 dad. I fancy you want to get at your trunks, Sara. 
 Smuggled a few things through, eh? Women never 
 miss a chance to get a couple of dozen dresses through, 
 as you’ll discover if you become a real American, Miss 
 Castleton. It’s in the blood.” 
 
 Mr. Wrandall fell into another trap. Now please 
 
100 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 remember that we are to dine very informally,” he 
 hastened to say, his mind on the smuggled gowns. It 
 was his experience that gowns that escaped duty in- 
 variably were creations.” 
 
 Leslie got him away. 
 
 As soon as they were alone, Hetty turned to her 
 friend. 
 
 Oh, Sara, can’t you go without me? Tell them 
 that I am ill — suddenly ill. I — I don’t think it right 
 or honourable of me to accept — ” 
 
 Sara shook her head, and the words died on the girl’s 
 lips. 
 
 You must play the game, Hetty.” 
 
 It’s — very hard,” murmured the other, her face 
 very white and bleak. 
 
 I know, my dear,” said Sara gently. 
 
 If they should ever find out,” gasped the girl, 
 suddenly giving way to the dread that had been lying 
 dormant all these months. 
 
 They will never know the truth unless you choose 
 to enlighten them,” said Sara, putting her arm about 
 the girl’s shoulders and drawing her close. 
 
 You never cease to be wonderful, Sara ,^ — so very 
 wonderful,” cried the girl, with a look of worship in her 
 eyes. 
 
 Sara regarded her in silence for a moment, reflecting. 
 Then, with a swift rush of tears to her eyes, she cried 
 fiercely : 
 
 You must never, never tell me all that happened, 
 Hetty! You must not speak it with your own lips.” 
 
 Hetty’s eyes grew dark with pain and wonder. 
 
 That is the thing I can’t understand in you, Sara,” 
 she said slowly. 
 
 must not speak of it!” 
 
DISCUSSING A SISTER-IN-LAW 
 
 101 
 
 Hetty’s bosom heaved. Speak of it ! ” she cried, 
 absolute agony in her voice. Have I not kept it 
 locked in my heart since that awful day — ” 
 ''Hush!” 
 
 " I shall go mad if I cannot talk with you about — ” 
 
 "No, no! It is the forbidden subject! I know all 
 that I should know — all that I care to know. We 
 have not said so much as this in months — in ages, it 
 seems. Let sleeping dogs lie. We are better off, my 
 dear. I could not touch your lips again.” 
 
 "I — I can’t bear the thought of that ! ” 
 
 " Kiss me now, Hetty.” 
 
 " I could die for you, Sara,” cried Hetty, as she 
 impulsively obeyed the command. 
 
 " I mean that you shall live for me,” said Sara, smil- 
 ing through her tears. " How silly of me to cry. It 
 must be the room we are in. These are the same 
 rooms, dear, that you came to on the night we met. 
 Ah, how old I feel ! ” 
 
 "Old? You say that to me? I am ages and ages 
 older than you,” cried Hetty, the colour coming back 
 to her soft cheeks. 
 
 " You are twenty- three.” 
 
 " And you are twenty-eight.” 
 
 Sara had a far away look in her eyes. " About your 
 size and figure,” said she, and Hetty did not compre- 
 hend. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 SOUTHI.OOK 
 
 Sara Wrandall’s house in the country stood on a 
 wooded knoll overlooking* the Sound. It was rather re- 
 motely located, so far as neighbours were concerned. 
 Her father, Sebastian Gooch, shrewdly foresaw the day 
 when land in this particular section of the suburban 
 world would return dollars for the pennies, and wisely 
 bought thousands of acres : woodland, meadowland, 
 beachland and hills, inserted between the environs of 
 New York City and the rich towns up the coast. Years 
 afterward he built a commodious summer home on the 
 choicest point that his property afforded, named it 
 Southlook, and transformed that particular part of 
 his wilderness into a millionaire’s paradise, where he 
 could dawdle and putter to his heart’s content, where 
 he could spend his time and his money with a prodigal- 
 ity that came so late in life to him that he made waste 
 of both in his haste to live down a rather parsimonious 
 past. 
 
 Two miles and a half away, in the heart of a scat- 
 tered colony of purse-proud New Yorkers, was the 
 country home of the Wrandalls, an imposing place and 
 older by far than Southlook. It had descended from 
 well-worn and time-stained ancestors to Redmond 
 Wrandall, and, with others of its kind, looked with no 
 little scorn upon the modern, mushroom structures that 
 sprouted from the seeds of trade. There was no friend- 
 ship between the old and the new. Each had recourse to 
 a bitter contempt for the other, though consolation w^as 
 small in comparison. 
 
 202 
 
SOUTHLOOK 
 
 103 
 
 It was in the wooded by-ways of this despised do- 
 main that Challis Wrandall and Sara, the earthly 
 daughter of Midas, met and loved and defied all things 
 supernal, for matches are made in heaven. Their mar- 
 riage did not open the gates of Nineveh. Sebastian 
 Gooch’s paradise was more completely ostracised than 
 it was before the disaster. The Wrandalls spoke of it 
 as a disaster. 
 
 Clearly the old merchant was not over-pleased with 
 his daughter’s choice, a conclusion permanently ectab- 
 lished by the alteration he made in his will a year or 
 two after the marriage. True, he left the vast estate 
 to his beloved daughter Sara, but he fastened a stout 
 string to it, and with this string her hands were tied. 
 It must have occurred to him that Challis was a prof- 
 ligate in more ways than one, for he deliberately stip- 
 ulated in his will that Sara was not to sell a foot of 
 the ground until a period of twenty years had elapsed. 
 A very polite way, it would seem, of making his invest- 
 ment safe in the face of considerable odds. 
 
 He lived long enough after the making of his will, I 
 am happy to relate, to find that he had made no mistake. 
 As he preceded his son-in-law into the Great Beyond by 
 a scant three years, it readily may be seen that he 
 wrought too well by far. Seventeen unnecessary years 
 of proscription remained, and he had not intended them 
 for Sara alone. He was not afraid of Sara, but for 
 her. 
 
 When the will was read and the condition revealed, 
 Challis Wrandall took it in perfect good humour. He 
 had the grace to proclaim in the bosom of his father’s 
 family that the old gentleman was a father-in-law to 
 be proud of. A canny old boy,” he had announced 
 with his most engaging smile, quite free from rancour 
 
104 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 or resentment. Challis was well acquainted with him- 
 self. 
 
 And so the acres were strapped together snugly and 
 firmly, without so much as a town-lot protruding. 
 
 So impressed was Challis by the farsightedness of 
 his father-in-law that he forthwith sat him down and 
 made a will of his own. He would not have it said that 
 Sara’s father did a whit better by her than he would 
 do. He left everything he possessed to his wife, but 
 put no string to it, blandly implying that all danger 
 would be past when she came into possession. There 
 was a sort of grim humour in the way he managed to 
 present himself to view as the real and ready source of 
 peril. 
 
 Among certain of the Wrandall clan there was seri- 
 ous talk of contesting the will. It was a distinct 
 shock to all of them. Some one made bold to as- 
 sert that Challis was not in his right mind at the time 
 it was executed. For that matter, a couple of uncles 
 on his mother’s side were of the broad opinion that he 
 never had been mentally adequate. 
 
 During a famdly conference four days after the fu- 
 neral, Leslie launched forth at some length and with con- 
 siderable heat, expressing an opinion that met with 
 small favour at the outset but which had its results 
 later on. 
 
 Why,” he declaimed, standing before the fireplace 
 with his hands in his pockets, if Sara dreamed that 
 we even so much as contemplate making a fuss about 
 Chal’s will, she’d up and chuck the whole blooming 
 legacy in our faces, and be glad to do it. She’s got 
 plenty of her own. She doesn’t need the little that 
 Challis left her. Then, what would we look like, tell 
 me that.?^ What would the world say.^^ Why, it would 
 
SOUTHLOOK 
 
 105 
 
 say that she didn’t think our money was clean enough 
 to mix with old man Gooch’s. She’d throw it in our 
 faces and the whole town would snicker.” 
 
 Figuratively speaking, young man, figuratively 
 speaking,” said one of the uncles, a stockholder and 
 director. 
 
 What do you mean by that ? ” 
 
 That she — ^^ahem ! That she couldn’t actually 
 throw it.” 
 
 I’m not so literal as you. Uncle George.” 
 
 Then why use the word throw? ” 
 
 Of course. Uncle George, I don’t mean to say she’d 
 have it reduced to gold coin and stand off and take 
 shots at us. You understand that, don’t you? ” 
 
 Leslie,” put in his father, you have a most dis- 
 tressing way of — er — putting it. Your Uncle 
 George is not so dense as all that.” 
 
 “ I didn’t use the word ^ throw ’ in the first place,” 
 said Leslie, with a shrug. I said ^ chuck.’ ” 
 
 “ I distinctly heard you use the word ^ throw,’ ” said 
 Uncle George, very red in the face. 
 
 It was on the second occasion, George,” said Mrs. 
 Wrandall, loyal to Leslie. 
 
 In either case,” said her son, we’d be made ridic- 
 ulous. That’s the long and short of it. Even if she 
 handed it to us on a silver plate, — figuratively speak- 
 ing, Uncle George, — we’d be made to look like thirty 
 cents.” 
 
 “Well, I’m damn — ” began Uncle George, almost 
 forgetting where he was, but remembering in time. He 
 was afraid to utter a word for the next ten minutes, and 
 Leslie was spared the interruptions. 
 
 It was decided that the will should stand. Later 
 on, the alarming prospect of Sara’s perfect right to 
 
106 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 marry again came up to mar the peace of mind of all 
 the Wrandalls, and it grew to be horribly real without 
 a single move on her part to warrant the fears they 
 were encouraging. 
 
 Sara and Hetty did not stay long in town. The 
 newspapers announced the return of Challis WrandalPs 
 widow and reporters sought her out for interviews. 
 The old interest was revived and columns were printed 
 about the murder at Burton’s Inn, with sharp editorial 
 comments on the failure of the police to clear up the 
 mystery. 
 
 The woods were green and the earth was redolent of 
 rich spring odours ; wild flowers peeped shyly from the 
 leaf-strewn soil in the shadow of the trees ; some, more 
 bold than others, came down to the roadway, and from 
 the banks and hedges smiled saucily upon all who 
 passed ; the hillsides were like spotless carpets, the 
 meadows a riot of clover hues. The world was light 
 with the life of the new-born year, for who shall say 
 that the year does not begin with the birth of spring? 
 May! May, when the earth begins to bear, not Jan- 
 uary when it sets out in sorrow to bury its dead. New 
 Year’s day it is, when the first tiny flower of spring 
 comes to life and smiles on the face of Mother Earth, 
 and the sun is warm with the love of a gentle father. 
 
 I shall ask Leslie down for the week-end,” said 
 Sara, the third day after their arrival in the country. 
 The house was huge and lonely, and time hung rather 
 heavily despite the glorious uplift of spring. 
 
 Hetty looked up quickly from her book. A look 
 of dismay flickered in her eyes for an instant and 
 then gave way to the calmness that had come to dwell 
 in their depths of late. Her lips parted in the sudden 
 impulse to cry out against the plan, but she checked 
 
SOUTHLOOK 
 
 107 
 
 the words. For a moment, her dark, questioning eyes 
 studied the face of her benefactress ; then, as if nothing 
 had been revealed to her, she allowed her gaze to drift 
 pensively out toward the sunset sea. 
 
 They were sitting on the broad verandah overlook- 
 ing the Sound. The dusk of evening was beginning 
 to steal over the earth. She laid her book aside. 
 
 « Will you telephone in to him after dinner, Hetty? ” 
 went on Sara, after a long period of silence. 
 
 Again Hetty started. This time a look of actual 
 pain flashed in her eyes. 
 
 Would not a note by post be more certain to find 
 him in the — ” she began hurriedly. 
 
 “ I dislike writing notes,” said Sara calmly. Of 
 course, dear, if you feel that you’d rather not tele- 
 phone to him, I can — ” 
 
 I dare say I am finicky, Sara,” apologised Hetty in 
 quick contrition. Of course, he is your brother. I 
 should remem — ” 
 
 My brother-in-law, dear,” said Sara, a trifle too 
 literally. 
 
 He will come often to your house,” went on Hetty 
 rapidly. I must make the best of it.” 
 
 He is your friend, Hetty. He admires you.” 
 
 I cannot see him through your eyes, Sara.” 
 
 But he is charming and agreeable, you’ll admit,” 
 persisted the other. 
 
 “ He is very kind, and he is devoted to you. I 
 should like him for that.” 
 
 “ You have no cause for disliking him.” 
 
 “ I do not dislike him. I — I am — Oh, you always 
 have been so thoughtful, so considerate, Sara, I can’t 
 understand your failing to see how hard it is for me to 
 — to — well, to endure his open-hearted friendship.” 
 
108 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Sara was silent for a moment. You draw a pretty 
 fine line, Hetty,” she said gently. 
 
 Hetty flushed. You mean that there is little to 
 choose between wife and brother? That isn’t quite 
 fair. You know everything, he knows nothing. I wear 
 a mask for him ; you have seen into the very heart of 
 me. It isn’t the same.” 
 
 Sara came over and stood beside the girl’s chair. 
 After a moment of indecision, she laid her hand on 
 Hetty’s shoulder. The girl looked up, the ever-recur- 
 ring question in her eyes. 
 
 We haven’t spoken of — of these things in many 
 months, Hetty.” 
 
 Not since Mrs. Wrandall and Vivian came to Nice. 
 I was upset — dreadfuly upset then, Sara. I don’t 
 know how I managed to get through with it.” 
 
 But you managed it,” pronounced Sara. Her fin- 
 gers seemed to tighten suddenly on the girl’s shoulder. 
 
 I think we were quite wonderful, both of us. It 
 wasn’t easy for me.” 
 
 Why did we come back to New York, Sara?” 
 burst out Hetty, clasping her friend’s hand as if sud- 
 denly spurred by terror. We were happy over there. 
 And free!” 
 
 Listen, my dear,” said Sara, a hard note growing 
 in her voice : this is my home. I do not love it, but 
 I can see no reason for abandoning it. That is why 
 we came back to New York.” 
 
 Hetty pressed her friend’s hand to her lips. “ For- 
 give me,” she cried impulsively. I shouldn’t have 
 complained. It was detestable.” 
 
 Besides,” went on Sara evenly, you were quite 
 free to remain on the other side. I left it to you.” 
 
 You gave me a week to decide,” said Hetty, in a 
 
SOUTHLOOK 
 
 109 
 
 hurried manner of speaking. — I took but twenty- 
 four hours — less than that. Over night, you remem- 
 ber. I love you, Sara. I could not leave you. All 
 that night I could feel you pulling at my heart-strings, 
 pulling me closer and closer, and holding me. You were 
 in your room, I in mine, and yet all the time you 
 seemed to be bending over me in the darkness, urging 
 me to stay with you and love you and be loved by you. 
 It couldn’t have been a dream.” 
 
 It was not a dream,” said Sara, with a queer 
 smile. 
 
 You do love me.^ ” tensely. 
 
 “ I do love you,” was the firm answer. Sara was 
 staring out across the water, her eyes big and as black 
 as night itself. She seemed to be looking far beyond 
 the misty lights that hobbled with nearby schooners, 
 far beyond the yellow mass on the opposite shore where 
 a town lay cradled in the shadows, far into the fast 
 darkening sky that came up like a wall out of the east. 
 
 Hetty’s fingers tightened in a warmer clasp. Un- 
 consciously perhaps, Sara’s grip on the girl’s shoulder 
 tightened also: unconsciously, for her thoughts w^ere 
 far away. The younger woman’s pensive gaze rested 
 on the peaceful waters below, taking in the slow ap- 
 proach of the fog that was soon to envelop the land. 
 Neither spoke for many minutes: inscrutable thinkers, 
 each a prey to thoughts that leaped backward to the 
 beginning and took' up the puzzle at its inception. 
 
 I wonder — ” began Hetty, her eyes narrowing with 
 the intensity of thought. She did not complete the 
 sentence. 
 
 Sara answered the unspoken question. It will 
 never be different from what it is now, unless you make 
 it so.” 
 
110 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Hetty started. “ How could you have known what 
 I was thinking? ” she cried in wonder. 
 
 “ It is what you are always thinking, my dear. 
 You are always asking yourself when will I turn 
 against you.’’ 
 
 Sara ! ” 
 
 Your own intelligence should supply the answer to 
 all the questions you are asking of yourself. It is 
 too late for me to turn against you.” She abruptly 
 removed her hand from Hetty’s shoulder and walked 
 to the edge of the verandah. For the first time, the 
 English girl was conscious of pain. She drew her 
 arm up and cringed. She pulled the light scarf about 
 her bare shoulders. 
 
 The butler appeared in the doorway. 
 
 The telephone, if you please, Miss Castleton. Mr. 
 Leslie Wrandall is calling.” 
 
 The girl stared. ^‘^For me, Watson.^^ ” 
 
 Yes, Miss. I forgot to say that he called up this 
 afternoon while you were out,” very apologetically, 
 with a furtive glance at Mrs. Wrandall, who had turned. 
 
 Loss of memory, Watson, is a fatal affliction,” 
 she said, with a smile. 
 
 Yes, Mrs. Wrandall. I don’t see ’ow it ’appened.” 
 
 “ It is not likely to happen again.” 
 
 No, madam.” 
 
 Hetty had risen, visibly agitated. 
 
 What shall I say to him, Sara.^ ” she cried. 
 
 “ Apparently it is he who has something to say to 
 you,” said the other, still smiling. Wait and see what 
 it is. Please don’t neglect to say that we’d like to 
 have him over Sunday.” 
 
 A box of flowers has just come up from the sta- 
 tion for you, Miss,” said Watson. 
 
SOUTHLOOK 
 
 111 
 
 Hetty was very white as she passed into the house. 
 Mrs. Wrandall resumed her contemplation of the fog- 
 screened Sound. 
 
 “ Shall I fetch you a wrap, ma’am? ” asked Watson, 
 hesitating. 
 
 I am coming in, Watson. Open the box of flowers 
 for Miss Castleton. Is there a fire in the library?” 
 
 Yes, Mrs. Wrandall.” 
 
 “ Mr. Leslie will be out on Saturday. Tell Mrs. 
 Conkling.” 
 
 The evening train, ma’am? ” 
 
 “ No. The eleven-thirty. He will be here for lunch- 
 eon.” 
 
 When Hetty hurried into the library a few minutes 
 later, her manner was that of one considerably dis- 
 turbed by something that has transpired almost on 
 the moment. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes 
 were reflectors of a no uncertain distress of mind. Mrs. 
 Wrandall was standing before the fireplace, an exquisite 
 fignre in the slinky black evening gown which she af- 
 fected in these days. Her perfectly modelled neck and 
 shoulders gleamed like pink marble in the reflected glow 
 of the burning logs. She wore no jewellery, but there 
 was a single white rose in her dark hair, where it had 
 been placed by the whimsical Hetty an hour earlier as 
 they left the dinner table. 
 
 He. is coming out on the eleven-thirty, Sara,” said 
 the girl nervously, unless you will send the motor in 
 for him. The body of his car is being changed and 
 it’s in the shop. He must have been jesting when he 
 said he would pay for the petrol — I should have said 
 gasoline.” 
 
 Sara laughed. You will know him better, my 
 dear,” she said. Leslie is very light-hearted.” 
 
112 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 “ He suggested bringing a friend,’’ went on Hetty 
 hurriedly. A Mr. Booth, the portrait painter.” 
 
 I met him in Italy. He is charming. You will 
 like hmi^ too, Hetty.” The emphasis did not escape 
 notice. 
 
 It seems that he is spending a fortnight in the vil- 
 lage, this Mr. Booth, painting spring lambs for rest 
 and recreation, Mr. Leslie says.” 
 
 Then he is at our very gates,” said Sara, looking 
 up suddenly. 
 
 I wonder if he can be the man I saw yesterday at 
 the bridge,” mused Hetty. Is he tall.? ” 
 
 I really can’t say. He’s rather vague. It was 
 six or seven years ago.” 
 
 It was left that Mr. Wrandall is to come out on the 
 eleven-thirty,” explained Hetty. I thought you 
 wouldn’t like sending either of the motors in.” 
 
 And Mr. Booth.? ” 
 
 We are to send for him after Mr. Wrandall arrives. 
 He is stopping at the inn, wherever that may be.” 
 
 Poor fellow ! ” sighed Sara, with a grimace. I 
 am sure he will like us immensely if he has been stopping 
 at the inn.” 
 
 Hetty stood staring down at the blazing logs for a 
 full minute before giving expression to the thought that 
 troubled her. 
 
 Sara,” she said, meeting her friend’s eyes with a 
 steady light in her own, why did Mr. Wrandall ask 
 for me instead of you? It is you he is coming to visit, 
 not me. It is your house. Why should — ” 
 
 My dear,” said Sara glibly, I am merely his sis- 
 ter-in-law. It wouldn’t be neecssary to ask me if he 
 should come. He knows he is welcome.” 
 
 Then why should he feel called upon to — ” 
 
SOUTHLOOK 113 
 
 Some men like to telephone, I suppose,” said the 
 other coolly. 
 
 “ I wonder if you will ever understand how I feel 
 about — about certain things, Sara.” 
 
 ^^What, for instance?” 
 
 Well, his very evident interest in me,” cried the 
 girl hotly. He sends me flowers, — this is the sec- 
 ond box this week, — and he is so kind, so very friendly, 
 Sara, that I can’t bear it — I really can’t.” 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall stared at her. You can’t very 
 well send him about his business,” she said, unless 
 he becomes more than friendly. Nov/, can you? ” 
 
 But it seems so — so horrible, so beastly,” groaned 
 the girl. 
 
 Sara faced her squarely. See here, Hetty,” she 
 said levelly, we have made our bed, you and I. We 
 must lie in it — together. If Leslie Wrandall chooses 
 to fall in love with you, that is his affair, not ours. 
 We must face every condition. In plain words, we 
 must play the game.” 
 
 What could be more appalling than to have him 
 fall in love with me? ” 
 
 The other way ’round would be more dramatic, I 
 should say.” 
 
 Good God, Sara ! ” cried the girl in horror. How 
 can you even speak of such a thing? ” 
 
 After all, why shouldn’t — ” began Sara, but 
 stopped in the middle of her suggestion, with the result 
 that it had its full effect without being uttered in so 
 many cold-blooded words. The girl shuddered. 
 
 I wish, Sara, you would let me unburden myself 
 completely to you,” she pleaded, seizing her friend’s 
 hands. You have forbidden me — 
 
 Sara jerked her hands away. Her eyes flashed. 
 
114 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 I do not want to hear it,” she cried fiercely. Never, 
 never ! Do you understand ? It is your secret. I will 
 not share it with you. I should hate you if I knew 
 everj^thing. As it is, I love you because you are a 
 woman who suffered at the hand of one who made me 
 suffer. There is nothing more to say. Don’t bring up 
 the subject again. I want to be your friend for ever, 
 not your confidante. There is a distinction. You may 
 be able to see how very marked it is in our case, Hetty. 
 What one does not know, seldom hurts.” 
 
 But I want to justify myself — ” 
 
 It isn’t necessary,” cut in the other so perempto- 
 rily that the girl’s eyes spread into a look of anger. 
 Whereupon Sara Wrandall threw her arm about her 
 and drew her down beside her on the chaise-longue. I 
 didn’t mean to be harsh,” she cried. “We must not 
 speak of the past, that’s all. The future is not likely 
 to hurt us, dear. Let us avoid the past.” 
 
 “ The future ! ” sighed the girl, staring blankly before 
 her. 
 
 “ To appreciate what it is to be,” said the other, 
 
 you have but to think of what it might have been.” 
 
 “ I know,” said Hetty, in a low voice. “ And yet 
 I sometimes wonder if — ” 
 
 Sara interrupted. “ You are paying me, dear, in- 
 stead of the law,” she said gently. “ I am not a harsh 
 creditor, am I? ” 
 
 “ My life belongs to you. I give it cheerfulh^ even 
 gladly.” 
 
 “ So you have said before. Well, if it belongs to me. 
 you might at least permit me to develop it as I would 
 any other possession. I take it as an investment. It 
 will probably fluctuate.” 
 
 “ Now you are jesting! ” 
 
SOUTHLOOK 
 
 115 
 
 Perhaps,” said Sara laconically. 
 
 The next morning Hetty set forth for her accustomed 
 tramp over the roads that wound through the estate. 
 Sara, the American, dawdled at home, resenting the chill 
 spring drizzle that did not in the least discourage the 
 Englishwoman. The mistress of the house and of the 
 girl’s destiny stood in the broad French window watch- 
 ing her as she strode springily, healthily down the maple 
 lined avenue in the direction of the gates. The garden- 
 ers doffed their caps to her as she passed, and also 
 looked after her with surreptitious glances. 
 
 There was a queer smile on Sara’s lips that remained 
 long after the girl was lost to view beyond the lodge. 
 It was still on her lips but gone from her eyes as she 
 paused beside the old English table to bury her nose 
 in one of the gorgeous roses that Leslie had sent out 
 to Hetty the day before. They were all about the 
 room, dozens of them. The girl had insisted on having 
 them downstairs instead of in her own little sitting- 
 room, for which they plainly were intended. 
 
 A nasty sea turn had brought lowering grey skies 
 and a dreary, enveloping mist that never quite assumed 
 the dignity of a drizzle and yet blew wet and cold to 
 the very marrow of the bones. Hetty was used to such 
 weather. Her English blood warmed to it. As she 
 strode briskly across the meadow-land road in the di- 
 rection of the woods that lay ahead, a soft ruddy glow 
 crept up to her cheeks, and a sparkle of joy into her 
 eyes. She walked strongly, rapidly. Her straight, 
 lithe young figure was a j oyous thing to behold. High 
 boots, short skirt, a loose jacket and a broad felt hat 
 made up her costume. She was graceful, adorable; 
 a young, healthy, beautiful creature in whom the blood 
 surged quickly, stronghT-; the type of woman men are 
 
116 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 wont to classify as ineffably femininej’’ though why 
 we should differentiate is no small mystery unless there 
 really is such a thing as one woman possessing an 
 adorably feminine quality denied to her sisters. Be 
 that as it may, there is a distinction and men pride 
 themselves on knowing it. Hetty was alluringly fem- 
 inine. Leaving out the matter of morals, whatever they 
 are, and coming right up to her as an example of her 
 sex, pure and simple if you please, we are bound to 
 say that she was perfect. The best thing we can say of 
 Challis Wrandall is that he took the same view of her 
 that we should, and fell in love with her. He would 
 have married her if he could, there isn’t much doubt as 
 to that, no matter what she had been before he knew 
 her or what she was at the time of his discovery. No 
 more is it to be considered unique that his brother should 
 have experienced a similar interest in her, knowing even 
 less. 
 
 She was the sort of girl one falls in love with and 
 remembers it the rest of his life. 
 
 Take her now, for instance, as she swings along the 
 highway, fresh, trim and graceful, her chin uptilted, 
 her cheeks warm, her eyes clear and as blue as sapphires, 
 and we experience the most intense, unreasoning desire 
 to be near her, at her side, where hands could touch 
 her and the very spell of her creep out over one to make 
 a man of him. 
 
 The kind of woman one wants to draw close to him 
 because his heart is sweet. 
 
 She had the blood of a fellow creature on hpr hands 
 — the blood of one of us — and yet we men will over- 
 look one commandment for another. It is a matter of 
 choice. 
 
 What of her present position in the house and in the 
 
SOUTHLOOK 
 
 117 
 
 heart of the one woman who of all those we know is 
 abnormally unfeminine in that she subordinates the nat- 
 ural and instinctive animosity of woman toward an- 
 other who robs her of a husband, no matter how un- 
 worthy or how hateful he may have been to her behind 
 the screen with which she hides her sores from the 
 world. The answer is ready : Hetty was a slave bound 
 to an extraordinary condition. There had been no 
 coercion on the part of Challis Wrandall’s wife; no ac- 
 tual restraint had been set upon the girl. The situa- 
 tion was a plain one from every point of view: Hetty 
 owed her life to Sara, she would have paid with her 
 life’s blood the debt she owed. It had become per- 
 fectly natural for her to consider herself a willing, 
 grateful prisoner — -a prisoner on parole. She would 
 not, could not abuse the parole. She loved her gaoler 
 with a love that knew no bounds ; she loved the walls 
 Sara had thrown up about her ; she was content to live 
 and die in the luxurious cell, attended by love and kind- 
 ness and mercy. After all, Hetty was even more fem- 
 inine than we seem able to convey in words. 
 
 Not in that she lacked in pride or sensitiveness, but 
 that she possessed to a self-satisfying degree the ability 
 to subordinate both of these to a loyalty that had no 
 bounds. There were fine feelings in Hetty. She was 
 honest with herself. She did not look beyond her pres- 
 ent horizon for brighter skies. They were as bright 
 as they could ever be, of that she was sure ; her hopes 
 lay within the small circumference that Sara Wrandall 
 made possible for her. She knew that her peril, her 
 ruin lay in the desire to step outside that narrow circle, 
 for out there the world was cold and merciless. 
 
 She lived as one charmed by some powerful influence, 
 and was content. Not once had the fear entered her 
 
118 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 soul that Sara would turn against her. Her trust in 
 WrandalFs wife was infinite. In her simple, devoted 
 heart she could feel no prick of dread so far as the 
 present was concerned. The past was dreadful, but 
 it was the past, and its loathsomeness was moderated 
 by subtle contrast with the present. As for the future, 
 it belonged to Sara Wrandall. It was safe. 
 
 If Sara were to decide that she must be given up to 
 the law, all well and good. She could meet her fate 
 with a smile for Sara, and with love in her heart. She 
 could pay in full if the demand was made by the wife 
 of the man she had left in the grim little upstairs room 
 at Burton’s Inn on that never-to-be-forgotten night in 
 March. 
 
 The one great, inexplicable mystery to her was the 
 heart of Sara Wrandall. She could not fathom it. 
 
 She could understand her ovv^n utter subjection to 
 the will of the other woman ; she could explain it satis- 
 factorily to herself, and she could have explained it to 
 the world. Self-preservation in the beginning, self-sur- 
 render as time went on, self-sacrifice as the preroga- 
 tive. 
 
 And so it was, on this grey spring day, that she 
 gazed undaunted at the world, with the shadows all 
 about her, and hummed a sprightly tune through warm 
 red lips that were kissed by the morning mist. 
 
 She came to the bridge by the mill, long since deserted 
 and now a thing of ruin and decay. A man in knick- 
 erbockers stood leaning against the rail, idly gazing 
 down at the trickling stream below. The brier pipe 
 that formed the circuit between hand and lips sent up 
 soft blue coils to float away on the drizzle. 
 
 She passed behind him, with a single furtive, curious 
 glance at his handsome, undisturbed profile, and in that 
 
SOUTHLOOK 119 
 
 glance recognised him as the man she had seen the day 
 before. 
 
 When she was a dozen rods away, the tall man turned 
 his face from the stream and sent after her the long- 
 restrained look. There was something akin to cau- 
 tiousness in that look of his, as if he were afraid that 
 she might turn her head suddenly and catch him at it. 
 Something began stirring in his heart, the nameless 
 something that awakens when least expected. He felt 
 the subtle, sweet femininity of her as she passed. It 
 lingered with him as he looked. 
 
 She turned the bend in the road a hundred yards 
 away. For many minutes he studied the stream below 
 without really seeing it. Then he straightened up, 
 knocked the ashes from his pipe, and set off slowly in 
 her wake, although he had been walking in quite the 
 opposite direction when he came to the bridge, — and 
 on a mission of some consequence, too. 
 
 There was the chance that he would meet her coming 
 back. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 A FAITHFUL CFAYON-POrNT 
 
 Leslie Weandall came out on the eleven-thirty. 
 Hetty was at the station with the motor, a sullen resent- 
 ment in her heart, but a welcoming smile on her lips. 
 The sun shone brightly. The Sound glared with the 
 white of reflected skies. 
 
 I thought of catching the eight o’clock,” he cried 
 enthusiastically, as he dropped his bag beside the motor 
 in order to reach over and shake hands with her. 
 
 That would have gotten me here hours earlier. The 
 difflculty was that I didn’t think of the eight o’clock 
 until I awoke at nine.” 
 
 And then you had the additional task of thinking 
 about breakfast,” said Hetty, but without a trace of 
 sarcasm in her manner. 
 
 I never think of breakfast,” said he amiably. I 
 merely eat it. Of course, it’s a task to eat it sometimes, 
 but — well, how are you.?^ How do you like it out 
 here? ” 
 
 He was beside her on the broad seat, his face beam- 
 ing, his gay little moustache pointing upward at the 
 ends like oblique brown exclamation points, so expansive 
 was his smile. 
 
 I adore it,” she replied, her own smile growing in 
 response to his. It was impossible to resist the good 
 nature of him. She could not dislike him, even though 
 she dreaded him deep down in her heart. Her blood 
 was hot and cold by turns when she was with him, as 
 her mind opened and shut to thoughts pleasant and 
 
 120 
 
A FAITHFUL CRAYON-POINT 121 
 
 unpleasant with something of the regularity of a fish’s 
 gills in breathing. 
 
 I knew you would. It’s great. You won’t care 
 much for our place. Miss Castleton. Sara’s got the 
 pick of the coast in that place of hers. Trust old Se- 
 bastian Gooch to get the best of everything. If my 
 dad or my grand-dad had possessed a tenth of the 
 brain that that old chap had, we’d have our own taber- 
 nacle up there on the point, instead of sulking at his 
 back gate. That’s really where we’re located, you 
 know. His back gate opens smack in the face of our 
 front one. I think he did it with malice aforethought, 
 too. His back gate is two miles from the house. It 
 wasn’t really necessary to go so far for a back gate 
 as all that, was it.^ To make it worse, he put a big 
 sign over it for us to read: ^No trespassing. This 
 means pou.^ Sara took it down after the old boy 
 died.” 
 
 “ I suppose by that time the desire to trespass was 
 gone,” she said. One doesn’t enjoy freedom of that 
 sort.” 
 
 “ I’ve come to believe that the only free things we 
 really covet are passes to the theatre. We never 
 get over that, I’m sure. I’d rather have a pass to the 
 theatre than a ten dollar bill any time. I say, it was 
 nice of you to come down to meet me. It was more 
 than I — er — expected.” He almost said hoped 
 for.” 
 
 Sara was too busy about the house to come,” she 
 explained quickly. And I had a few errands to do in 
 the village.” 
 
 Don’t spoil it ! ” 
 
 I am a horribly literal person,” she said. 
 
 Better that than literally horrible,” he retorted. 
 
122 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 rather proud of himself for it. It’s wonderful, the 
 friendship between you two girls — Sara’s not much 
 more than a girl, you see. You’re so utterly unlike in 
 every way.” 
 
 It isn’t strange to me,” said she simply, but with- 
 out looking at him. 
 
 “ Of course, I can understand it,” he went on. I’ve 
 always liked Sara. She’s bully. Much too good for 
 my brother, God rest his soul. He never — ” 
 
 Oh, don’t utter a thing like that, even in jest,” she 
 cried, shocked by his glib remark. 
 
 He flushed. You didn’t know Challis,” he said al- 
 most surlily. 
 
 She held her breath. 
 
 After a moment, the points of his little moustache 
 went up again in the habitual barometrical smile. 
 Rather a priggish, supercilious smile, she thought, tak- 
 ing a glance at his face. 
 
 I say I can understand it, but mother and Vivian 
 will never be able to get it through those tough skulls 
 of theirs. They really don’t like Sara. Snobs, both 
 of ’em — of the worst kind, too. Why, mother has 
 always looked upon Sara as a — er — a sort of brig- 
 andess, the kind that steals children and holds them for 
 ransom. Of course, old man Gooch was as common as 
 rags — utterly impossible, you know — but that 
 shouldn’t stand against Sara. By the way, her father 
 called her Sallie. Her mother was a very charming 
 woman, they say. We never knew her. For that mat- 
 ter, we never knew the old man until he became promi- 
 nent as a father-in-law.’^ 
 
 The girl was silent. He went on. 
 
 Mother likes you. She doesn’t say it in so many 
 words, but I can see that she wonders how you can have 
 
A FAITHFUL CRAYON-POINT 
 
 123 
 
 anything in common with Sara. She prides herself 
 on being able to distinguish blue blood at a glance. 
 Silly notion she’s got, but — ” 
 
 “ Please don’t go on, Mr. Wrandall,” cried Hetty in 
 distress. 
 
 I’m not saying she isn’t friendly to Sara nowa- 
 days,” he explained. She’s changed a good deal in 
 the last few months. I think she’s broadening out a bit. 
 Since that visit to Nice, she’s been quite different. As 
 a matter of fact, she expects to see a good bit of Sara 
 and you this summer. It’s like a spring thaw, by 
 Jove, it is.” 
 
 When does she come to the country ? ” asked Hetty, 
 bent on breaking his train of confidence. 
 
 In three or four weeks. But, as I was saying, the 
 mater has taken a great fancy to you. She ^ — ” 
 
 It’s very nice of her.” 
 
 “ She prides herself, as I said before, but she always 
 makes sure by asking questions.” 
 
 Questions ” 
 
 Yes. Although she could see through you as if 
 you were plate glass, she made it a point to ask Sara 
 all the questions she could think of. Over in Nice, 
 you know. Of course Sara told her everything, and now 
 she’s quite sure she can’t be mistaken in people. 
 Really, Miss Castleton, she’s very amusing sometimes, 
 mother is.” 
 
 Hetty was looking straight ahead, her face set. 
 
 What did Sara tell her about me? ” 
 
 “ Oh, all that was necessary to prove to mother that 
 she was right. As if it really made any difference, you 
 know.” 
 
 Please explain.” 
 
 What is there to explain ? She merely gave your 
 
124 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 pedigree, as we’d say at the dog show, begging your 
 pardon, ma’am. Pedigrees are a sort of hobby with 
 the mater. She collects ’em wherever she goes.” 
 
 He gave his moustache a little twist. 
 
 Then my references are satisfactory, so to speak,” 
 said she, with a wry little smile. 
 
 Perfectly,” said he, with conviction ; if v/e are 
 to put any dependence in the intelligence office.” 
 
 “Doesn’t it stagger Mrs. Wrandall somewhat to 
 reconcile my pedigree to the position I occupy in Sara’s 
 household — that of companion, so to say.?” asked 
 Hetty, a slight curl to her lip. 
 
 He looked rather blank. “ I don’t believe she looks 
 at you in just that light,” said he uncomfortably. 
 
 “ I fancy you’d better enlighten her.” 
 
 “Let ‘well enough alone,” quoted he glibly. 
 
 “ But I am a companion,” insisted Hetty, a little 
 spot of red in each cheek. 
 
 “ In a sense, I suppose,” said he affably. “ Of 
 course, Sara puts you down as a friend.” 
 
 “ I think you’d better understand my real position, 
 Mr. Wrandall,” said she firmly. 
 
 “ I do,” said he. “ You are Sara’s friend. That’s 
 enough for me. The fact that your father was or is 
 a distinguished English army officer, and some sort of 
 a cousin to a lord, and that you have the entree to 
 fashionable London drawing-rooms, is quite enough for 
 mother. That qualifies you to be companion to any- 
 body, she’d say. And there’s the end to it.” 
 
 She was looking at him in amazement. Her Ups 
 were slightly parted and her eyes were wide. For a 
 moment she was puzzled. Then a swift smile illumined 
 her face. She understood. 
 
 “ Of course, in London, it really isn’t anything to 
 
A FAITHFUL CRAYON-POINT 125 
 
 boast about, getting into drawing-rooms,” she said, 
 vastly amused. 
 
 « Well, it is over here,” said he promptly. 
 
 And it isn’t always open sesame to be related to a 
 peer.” 
 
 I suppose not.” 
 
 Nevertheless, I am glad that your mother and Miss 
 Vivian take me for ’what I am. Do you, by any chance, 
 go in for pedigree, Mr. Wrandall? ” 
 
 The shaft of irony sped over his head. 
 
 Only in dogs and horses,” he replied promptly. 
 
 It means a lot when it comes to buying a dog or a 
 horse.” 
 
 How do you feel when you’ve been sold.^ ” 
 
 I take my medicine.” 
 
 As a good sportsman should.” 
 
 I dare say you think I’m a deuce of a prig for say- 
 ing the things — ” 
 
 On the contrary, I appreciate your candour.” 
 
 Don’t hesitate to say it. I’m used to being called 
 a prig. My brother Challis alv/ays considered me one. 
 I think he meant snob. But that was because our ideals 
 weren’t the same. By the way, you ought to like Viv- 
 ian.” 
 
 That depends.” 
 
 On Vivian, I suppose? ” 
 
 “ Not precisely. I should say it depends on your 
 sister’s attitude toward Sara.” 
 
 Oh, she likes Sara well enough. Viv’s not particu- 
 larly narrow. Miss Castleton.” 
 
 Hetty bestowed a smile upon him. 
 
 That’s comforting, Mr. Wrandall,” she said, and 
 he was silent for a moment, reflecting. 
 
 Do you know,” said he, as if a light had suddenly 
 
126 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 burst in upon him, you’ve got more poise than any 
 girl I’ve ever seen? ” 
 
 It’s my bringing up, sir,” she said mockingly. 
 
 Ancestral habit,” he explained, with a polite bow. 
 
 Pedigreeable manners, perhaps.” 
 
 I wish the mater could have heard you say that.” 
 admiringly. 
 
 Don’t you adore the country at this time of the 
 year? ” 
 
 When I get to heaven I mean to have a place in 
 the country the year round,” he said conclusively. 
 
 And if you don’t get to heaven? ” 
 
 I suppose I’ll take a furnished flat somewhere.” 
 
 Sara was waiting for them at the bottom of the 
 terrace as they drove up. He leaped out and kissed 
 her hand. 
 
 Much obliged,” he murmured, with a slight twist 
 of his head in the direction of Hetty, who was giving 
 orders to the chauffeur. 
 
 You’re quite welcome,” said Sara, with a smile of 
 understanding. “ She’s lovely, isn’t she ? ” 
 
 Enchanting ! ” said he, almost too loudly. 
 
 Hetty walked up the long ascent ahead of them. 
 She did not have to look back to know that they were 
 watching her with unfaltering interest. She could feel 
 their gaze. 
 
 Absolutely adorable,” he added, enlarging his esti- 
 mate without really being aware that he voiced it. 
 
 Sara shot a look at his rapt face, and turned her own 
 away to hide the queer little smile that flickered briefly 
 and died away. 
 
 Hetty, pleading a sudden headache, declined to ac- 
 company them later on in the day when they set forth 
 in the car to pick up ” Brandon Booth at the inn. 
 
A FAITHFUL CRAYON-POINT 127 
 
 They were to bring him over, bag and baggage, to stay 
 till Tuesday. 
 
 He will be wild to paint her,” declared Leslie when 
 they were out of sight around the bend in the road. 
 He had waved his hat to Hetty just before the trees 
 shut off their view of her. She was standing at the top 
 of the steps beside one of the tall Italian vases. 
 
 Sara did not respond. 
 
 By the way, Sara, is she the niece or the grand- 
 daughter of old Lord Murgatroy d ? Pm a bit mixed.” 
 
 Her father is Colonel Castleton, of the Indian 
 Army, and he is the eldest son of a second son, if you 
 don’t find that too difficult to solve. The second son 
 aforesaid mentioned, so to speak, was the brother of 
 Lord Murgatroyd. That would make Colonel Castle- 
 ton his Lordship’s nephew, but utterly without pros- 
 pects of coming into a title, as there are several healthy 
 British obstacles in the way. I suppose one would call 
 Hetty a grand-niece.” 
 
 “ Mother wasn’t quite certain whether you said niece 
 or grand-daughter,” explained Leslie. Her mother’s 
 dead, I take it. Who was she.^^” 
 
 Why are you so curious ? ” 
 
 Isn’t it quite natural.?^ ” 
 
 “ Her mother was a Glynn. You have heard of the 
 Glynns, of course?” She trusted to his vanity and 
 was rewarded. The question was a sort of reproach. 
 
 Certainly,” he replied, without hesitation. The 
 mere fact that she spoke of them as the Glynns ” 
 was sufficient. It was proof enough that they were 
 people one ought to know, by name at least, if one v/ere 
 to profess intelligence regarding the British aristoc- 
 racy. As a matter of fact, he had not heard of the 
 Glynns, but that didn’t matter. The Irish Glynns^ 
 
128 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 you mean? ’’ he ventured, taking a chance at hitting 
 the mark. He had a faint recollection of hearing her 
 say that Hetty was part Irish. 
 
 You have only to look into her eyes to know she’s 
 Irish,” she said diplomatically. 
 
 I’ve never seen such eyes,” he exclaimed. 
 
 “ She’s a darling,” said Sara and changed the sub- 
 ject, knowing full well that he would come back to it 
 before long. Is it true that Vivian and Mr. Booth 
 are interested in each other? ” 
 
 Yes and no,” he replied, with a profound sigh. 
 
 That is to say, she’s interested in him and he isn’t 
 interested in her — in the way I take you to mean it. 
 I suspect it’s an easy matter for a girl to fall in love 
 with Brandy. He’s a corking fine chap.” 
 
 Then it would be very nice for Vivian, eh? ” 
 
 Oh, quite so — quite so. His forbears came over 
 with Noah, according to mother. You know mother, 
 Sara.” 
 
 Indeed I do,” said she with conviction. 
 
 He laughed without restraint. Mother can rattle 
 off the best families in the Bible without missing a 
 name, beginning with the Honourable Adam. Of 
 course, she knows the Glynns and the Castletons and 
 the Murgatroyds, although I dare say they haven’t had 
 much to do with the Bible. Come to think of it, she 
 did go to the trouble of looking up the Castleton fam- 
 ily in the Debrett.” 
 
 She did? ” exclaimed Sara, with a slight narrow- 
 ing of the eyes. 
 
 Yes. She established the connection all right 
 enough. She’s keen for Miss Castleton.” 
 
 “ Oh,” said she, relieved. After a moment : And 
 
 you? ” 
 
A FAITHFUL CRAYON-POINT 
 
 129 
 
 I’m mad about her,” he said simply, and then, for 
 some unaccountable reason, gave over being loquacious 
 and lapsed into a state of almost lugubrious quiet. 
 
 She glanced at his face, furtively at first, as if uncer- 
 tain of his mood, then with a prolonged stare that wa^s 
 frankly curious and amused. 
 
 Don’t lose your head, Leslie,” she said softly, al- 
 most purringly. 
 
 He started. Oh, I say, Sara, I’m not likely to — ” 
 
 Stranger things have happened,” she interrupted, 
 with a shake of her head. I can’t afford to have you 
 making love to her and getting tired of the game, as 
 you always do, dear boy, just as soon as you find she’s 
 in love with you. She is too dear to be hurt in that 
 way. You mustn’t — ” 
 
 Good Lord ! ” he cried ; what a bounder you 
 must take me for! Why, if I thought she’d — But 
 nonsense 1 Let’s talk about something else. Yourself, 
 for instance.” 
 
 She leaned back with a smile on her lips, but not in 
 her eyes ; and drew a long, deep breath. He was hard 
 hit. That was what she wanted to know. 
 
 They found Booth at the inn. He was sitting on the 
 old-fashioned porch, surrounded by bags and boys. 
 As he climbed into the car after the bags, the boys 
 grinned and jingled the coins in their pockets and 
 ventured, almost in unison, the intelligence that they 
 would all be there if he ever came back again. Big and 
 little, they had transported his easel and canvases from 
 place to place for three weeks or more and his de- 
 parture was to be regarded as a financial calamity. 
 
 I could go to ten circuses this summer if that many 
 of ’em was to come to town,” said one small citizen as 
 Croesus rode away in a cloud of village dust. 
 
130 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Gee, I wish to goodness he’d come back,” was the 
 soulful cry of another. 
 
 I don’t like them pictures he paints, though, do 
 you?” observed another, more critical than avaricious. 
 
 ^^Naw!” was the scornful reply, also in unison. 
 
 From which it may be gathered that Mr. Brandon 
 Booth was not cherished for art’s sake alone, but for 
 its relation to Mammon. 
 
 The object of their comments was making himself 
 agreeable to the lady who was to be his hostess for the 
 next few days. Leslie, perhaps in the desire to be alone 
 with his reflections, sat forward with the chauffeur, 
 and paid little or no heed to that unhappy person’s 
 comments on the vile condition of all village thorough- 
 fares, New York City included. 
 
 By the way, Sara,” he said, suddenly breaking in 
 on the conversation that went on at his back, and 
 thereby betraying a secret wish that was taking shape 
 in his mind, what have you done with the little red 
 runabout you had a year or two ago? ” 
 
 She started. “You mean — ” 
 
 As she hesitated, he went on. “ It would come in 
 very handy for twosome tours.” 
 
 “ I disposed of it some time ago, Leslie,” said she. 
 “ I thought you’d remember.” 
 
 “ Oh, — er — by Jove ! ” he stammered in confusion. 
 
 He remembered that she had given it away a day 
 or two after that awful night in March, and he recalled 
 her reason for doing so. He twisted the tiny end of his 
 moustache with unnecessary vigour — I might say fury. 
 It was a most unhappy fauw pas. 
 
 “ Softening of the brain,” he muttered, in dismal 
 apology to himself. 
 
 “ And you painted those wretched little boys in- 
 
A FAITHFUL CRAYON-POINT 
 
 131 
 
 stead of the beautiful things that Nature provides for 
 us out here, Mr. Booth ” Sara was saying to the ar- 
 tist beside her. 
 
 Of course, I managed to get in a bit of Nature, 
 even at that,’’ said he, with a smile. Boys are pretty 
 close to earth, you know. To be perfectly honest, I 
 did it in order to get away from the eminently beauti- 
 ful but unnatural things I’m required to paint at 
 home.” 
 
 Your subjects wouldn’t care for that,” she warned 
 him, in some amusement. 
 
 Oh, as to that, the comments of the boys on the 
 things I did up here weren’t altogether flattering to me, 
 so I’m chastened. They were more than frank about 
 them. We live to learn.” 
 
 Where are the canvases ? ” 
 
 I immortalised them, one and all, by destroying 
 them by fire and sword, only the sword happened to be 
 a penknife. They made a most excellent bonfire.” 
 
 And so, you’ve nothing to show for your fort- 
 night.^ ” 
 
 Oh, yes. A most desirable invitation to forget my 
 failures at your expense.” 
 
 « Poof!” 
 
 ^^I don’t blame you. It was inane. Still, I can’t 
 help saying, Mrs. Wrandall, that it is a desirable invi- 
 tation. You won’t say ^ poof ’ to that, because I won’t 
 listen to it.” 
 
 On the other hand, it’s very good of you to come.” 
 
 It seems to me I’m always in debt to Leslie, with 
 slim prospect of ever squaring accounts,” said he 
 whimsically. But for him, I couldn’t have come.” 
 
 I suppose we will see you at the Wrandall place 
 this summer.” 
 
13£ 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Fm coming out to paint Leslie’s sister in June, I 
 believe. And that reminds me, I came upon an uncom- 
 monly pretty girl not far from your place the other 
 day — and yesterday, as well — some one I’ve met be- 
 fore, unless I’m vastly mistaken. I wonder if you know 
 your neighbours well enough — by sight, at least — to 
 venture a good guess as to who I mean.” 
 
 She appeared thoughtful. 
 
 Oh, there are dozens of pretty girls in the neigh- 
 bourhood. Can’t you remember where you met — ” 
 She stopped suddenl}^, a swift look of apprehension in 
 her eyes. 
 
 He failed to note the look or the broken sentence. 
 He was searching in his coat pocket for something. 
 Selecting a letter from the middle of a small pocket, 
 he held it out to her. 
 
 I sketched this from memory. She posed all too 
 briefly for me,” he said. 
 
 On the back of the envelope was a remarkably good 
 likeness of Hetty Castleton, done broadly, sketchily 
 with a crayon point, evidently drawn with haste while 
 the impression was fresh, but long after she had passed 
 out of range of his vision. 
 
 I know her,” said Sara quietly. It’s very clever, 
 Mr. Booth.” 
 
 There is something hauntingly familiar about it,” 
 he went on, looking at the sketch with a frown of per- 
 plexity. “ I’ve seen her somewhere, but for the life 
 of me I can’t place her. Perhaps in a crowded street, 
 or the theatre, or a railway train — just a fleeting 
 glimpse, you know. But in any event, I got a lasting 
 impression. Queer things like that happen, don’t you 
 think so.? ” 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall leaned for^vard and spoke to Leslie. 
 
A FAITHFUL CRAYON-POINT 133 
 
 As he turned, she handed him the envelope, without 
 comment. 
 
 Great Scott ! ” he exclaimed. 
 
 Mr. Booth is a mind reader,” she explained. He 
 has been reading your thoughts, dear boy.” 
 
 Booth understood, and grinned. 
 
 You don’t mean to say — ” began the dumfounded 
 Leslie, still staring at the sketch. Upon my word, 
 it’s a wonderful likeness, old chap. I didn’t know you’d 
 ever met her.” 
 
 Met her?” cried Booth, an amiable conspirator. 
 
 I’ve never met her.” 
 
 See here, don’t try anything like that on me. Flow 
 could you do this if you’ve never seen — ” 
 
 “ He is a mind reader,” cried Sara. 
 
 Haven’t you been thinking of her steadily for — 
 well, we’ll say ten minutes? ” demanded Booth. 
 
 Leslie reddened. “ Nonsense ! ” 
 
 That’s a mental telepathy sketch,” said the artist, 
 complacently. 
 
 When did you do it? ” 
 
 This instant, you might say. See ! Here is the 
 crayon point. I always carry one around with me for 
 just such — ” 
 
 All right,” said Leslie blandly, at the same time 
 putting the envelope in his own pocket ; we’ll let it 
 go at that. If you’re so clever at mind pictures, you 
 can go to work and make another for yourself. I mean 
 to keep this one.” 
 
 I say,” began Booth, dismayed. 
 
 “ One’s thoughts are his own,” said the happy pos- 
 sessor of the sketch. He turned his back on them. 
 
 Sara was contrite. He will never give it up,” she 
 lamented. 
 
134 ^ 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Is he really hard hit? asked Booth in surprise, 
 
 I wonder,’’ mused Sara. 
 
 Of course, he’s welcome to the sketch, confound 
 him.” 
 
 “ Would you like to paint her? ” 
 
 Is this a commission? ” 
 
 Hardly. I know her, that’s all. She is a very 
 dear friend.” 
 
 My heart is set on painting some one else, Mrs. 
 Wrandall.” 
 
 Oh!” 
 
 When I know you better. I’ll tell you who she is.” 
 
 Could you make a sketch of this other one from 
 memory ? ” she asked lightly. 
 
 I think so. I’ll show you one this evening. I 
 have my trusty crayon about me always, as I said be- 
 fore.” 
 
 Later in the afternoon Booth came face to face with 
 Hetty. He was descending the stairs and met her 
 coming up. The sun streamed in through the tall 
 windows at the turn in the stairs, shining full in her up- 
 lifted face as she approached him from below. He 
 could not repress the start of amazement. She was 
 carrying a box of roses in her arms — red roses whose 
 stems protruded far beyond the end of the pasteboard 
 box and reeked of a fragrant dampness. 
 
 She gave him a shy, startled smile as she passed. 
 He had stopped to make room for her on the turn. 
 Somewhat dazed he continued on his way down the 
 steps, to suddenly remember with a twinge of dismay 
 that he had not returned her polite smile, but had 
 stared at her with most unblinking fervour. In no lit- 
 tle shame and embarrassment, he sent a swift glance 
 over his shoulder. She was walking close to the ban- 
 
A FAITHFUL CRAYON-POINT 135 
 
 ister rail on the floor above. As he glanced up their 
 eyes met, for she too had turned to peer. 
 
 Leslie Wrandall was standing near the foot of the 
 stairs. There was an eager, exalted look in his face 
 that slowly gave wdij to well-assumed unconcern as his 
 friend came upon him and grasped his arm. 
 
 I say, Leslie, is — is she staying here?” cried 
 Booth, lowering his voice to an excited half- whisper. 
 
 ^^Who?” demanded Wrandall vacantly. His mind 
 appeared to be elsewhere. 
 
 « Why, thaPs the girl I saw on the road — Wake 
 up ! The one on the envelope, you ass. Is she the one 
 you were telling me about in the club — the Miss 
 WhaPs-Her-Name who — ” 
 
 “ Oh, you mean Miss Castleton. She’s just gone 
 upstairs. You must have met her on the steps.” 
 
 You know I did. So that is Miss Castleton.” 
 
 ‘^Ripping, isn’t she? Didn’t I tell you so? ” 
 
 She’s beautiful. She is a type, just as you said, 
 old man, — a really wonderful type. I saw her yester- 
 day — and the day before.” 
 
 I’ve been wondering how you managed to get a 
 likeness of her on the back of an envelope,” said Leslie 
 sarcastically. Must have had a good long look at 
 her, my boy. It isn’t a snap-shot, you know.” 
 
 Booth flushed. It is an impression, that’s all. I 
 drew it from memory, ’pon my soul.” 
 
 She’ll be immensely gratified, I’m sure.” 
 
 For heaven’s sake, Les, don’t be such a fool as to 
 show her the thing,” cried Booth in consternation. 
 
 She’d never understand.” 
 
 Oh, you needn’t worry. She has a fine sense of 
 humour.” 
 
 Booth didn’t know whether to laugh or scowl. He 
 
136 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 compromised with himself by slipping his arm through 
 that of his friend and saying heartily : 
 
 I wish you the best of luck, old boy.” 
 
 Thanks,” said Leslie drily. 
 
CHAPTER Vm 
 
 IN WHICH HETTY IS WEIGHED 
 
 Booth and Leslie returned to the city on Tuesday. 
 The artist left behind him a memory sketch ” of Sara 
 Wrandall, done in the solitude of his room long after 
 the rest of the house was wrapped in slumber on the 
 first night of his stay at Southlook. It was as sketchily 
 drawn as the one he had made of Hetty, and quite as 
 wonderful in the matter of faithfulness, but utterly 
 without the subtle something that made the other nota- 
 ble. The craftiness of the artist was there, but the 
 touch of inspiration was lacking. 
 
 Sara was delighted. She was flattered, and made 
 no pretence of disguising the fact. 
 
 The discussion which followed the exhibition of the 
 sketch at luncheon, was very animated. It served to 
 excite Leslie to such a degree that he brought forth 
 from his pocket the treasured sketch of Hetty, for the 
 purpose of comparison. 
 
 The girl who had been genuinely enthusiastic over 
 the picture of Sara, and who had not been by way of 
 knowing that the first sketch existed, was covered with 
 confusion. Embarrassment and a shy sense of gratifi- 
 cation were succeeded almost at once by a feeling of 
 keen annoyance. The fact that the sketch was in Les- 
 lie’s possession — and evidently a thing to be cherished 
 — took away all the pleasure she may have experienced 
 during the first few moments of interest. 
 
 Booth caught the angry flash in her eyes, preceding 
 the flush and unaccountable pallor that followed al- 
 most immediately. He felt guilty, and at the same 
 
 137 
 
138 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 time deeply annoyed with Leslie. Later on he tried to 
 explain, but the attempt was a lamentable failure. She 
 laughed, not unkindly, in his face. 
 
 Leslie had refused to allow the sketch to leave his 
 hand. If she could have gained possession of it, even 
 for an instant, the thing would have been torn to bits. 
 But it went back into his commodious pocket-book, and 
 she was too proud to demand it of him. 
 
 She became oddly sensitive to Booth’s persistent 
 though inoffensive scrutiny as time wore on. More 
 than once she had caught him looking at her with a 
 fixedness that betrayed perplexity so plainly that she 
 could not fail to recognise an underlying motive. He 
 was vainly striving to refresh his memory: that was 
 clear to her. There is no mistaking that look in a 
 person’s eyes. It cannot be disguised. 
 
 He was as deeply perplexed as ever when the time 
 came for him to depart with Leslie. He asked her 
 point blank on the last evening of his stay if they had 
 ever met before, and she frankly confessed to a short 
 memory for faces. It was not unlikely, she said, that 
 he had seen her in London or in Paris, but she had not 
 the faintest recollection of having seen him before their 
 meeting in the road. 
 
 Urged by Sara, she had reluctantly consented to 
 sit to him for a portrait during the month of June. 
 He put the request in such terms that it did not sound 
 like a proposition. It was not surprising that he 
 should want her for a subject ; in fact, he put it in such 
 a way that she could not but feel that she would be do- 
 ing him a great and enduring favour. She imposed 
 but one condition : the picture was never to be exhibited. 
 He met that, with bland magnanimity, by proffering 
 the canvas to Mrs. Wrandali, as the subject’s next 
 
IN WHICH HETTY IS WEIGHED 139 
 
 best friend/’ to have and to hold so long as she might 
 live/’ free gratis/’ with the artist’s compliments/’ 
 and so on and so forth, in airy good humour, 
 
 Leslie’s aid had been solicited by both Sara and the 
 painter in the final effort to overcome the girl’s objec- 
 tions. He was rather bored about it, but added his 
 voice to the general clamour. With half an eye one 
 could see that he did not relish the idea of Hetty posing 
 for days to the handsome, agreeable painter. More- 
 over, it meant that Booth, who could afford to gratify 
 his own whims, would be obliged to spend a month or 
 more in the neighbourhood, so that he could devote him- 
 self almost entirely to the consummation of this par- 
 ticular undertaking. Moreover, it meant that Vivian’s 
 portrait was to be temporarily disregarded. 
 
 Sara Wrandall was quick to recognise the first symp- 
 toms of jealousy on the part of her brother-in-law. 
 She had known him for years. In that time she had 
 been witness to a dozen of his encounters in the lists of 
 love, or what he chose to designate as love, and had 
 seen him emerge from each with an unscarred heart 
 and a smiling visage. Never before had he shown the 
 slightest sign of jealousy, even wdien the affair was at 
 its rosiest. The excellent ego which mastered him 
 would not permit him to forget himself so far as to con- 
 sider any one else worthy of a feeling of jealousy. But 
 now he was flying an alien flag. He was turning 
 against himself and his smug convictions. He was at 
 least annoyed, if not jealous. Doubtless he was sur- 
 prised at himself ; perhaps he wondered what had come 
 over him. 
 
 Sara noted these signs of self-abasement (it could 
 be nothing else where a Wrandall was concerned), and 
 smiled in^vardly. The new idol of the Wrandalls was 
 
14G 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 in love, selfishly, insufferably in love as things went 
 with all the Wrandalls. They hated selfishly, and so 
 they loved. Her husband had been their king. But 
 their king was dead, long live the king! Leslie had 
 put on the family crown, — a little jauntily, perhaps,-— 
 cocked over the eye a bit, so to speak — but it was there 
 just the same, annoyingly plain to view. 
 
 Sara had tried to like him. He had been her friend, 
 the only one she could claim among them all. And 
 yet, beneath his genial allegiance, she could detect the 
 air of condescension, the bland attitude of a superior 
 who defends another’s cause for the reason that it grati- 
 fies Nero. She experienced a thrill of malicious joy 
 in contemplating the fall of Nero. He would bring 
 dov/n his house about his head, and there would be no 
 Rome to pay the fiddler. 
 
 In the train that Tuesday morning. Booth elected 
 to chaff his friend on the progress of his campaign. 
 They v/ere seated opposite to each other in the almost 
 empty parlour-car. 
 
 Buck up, old chap,” he counselled scoffingly. 
 
 Don’t look so disconsolate. You’re coming out again 
 at the end of the week.” 
 
 Leslie had been singularly reticent for a matter of 
 ten miles or more after leaving the little station be- 
 hind. His attention seemed to be engaged strictly in 
 the study of objects beyond the car window. 
 
 ‘^What’s that? ” he demanded curtly. 
 
 I say you’re lucky enough to be asked again for 
 the end of the — ” 
 
 I’ve got a standing invitation, if that’s what you 
 mean. Sara gives me a meal ticket, as it were. Noth- 
 ing extraordinary in my going out whenever I like, is 
 there? ” His manner was a trifle offish. 
 
IN WHICH HETTY IS WEIGHED 141 
 
 Booth laughed. In spite of your disagreeable re- 
 mark, I wish you good luck, old man.” 
 
 ^^¥/hat the devil are you driving at. Brandy? ” 
 
 I only meant to cheer you up a bit, that’s all.” 
 Thanks ! ” 
 
 There was another interval of silence. Leslie fur- 
 tively studied the face of his friend, who had resumed 
 his dreamy contemplation of the roof of the car, his 
 hands clasped behind his head, his legs outstretched. 
 
 I say. Brandy,” he ventured at last, a trace of em- 
 barrassment in his manner, if you’ve nothing better 
 to do, come down and dine with us to-night — en fam- 
 ille, Viv said over the ’phone this morning that we 
 are dining alone in state. Come along, old chap, and 
 wake us up. What say? ” 
 
 A clever mind-reader could have laid bare the motive 
 in this cordial, even eager invitation. He was seeking 
 to play Vivian against Hetty in the game, which seemed 
 to have taken on a new turn. 
 
 Booth was not a mind-reader, although in jest he 
 had posed as one. “ I’m quite sure I’ve nothing better 
 to do,” he said. I’d suggest, however, that you let 
 the invitation come from some one in authority. Your 
 mother, for instance.” 
 
 “ Nonsense,” cried the other blithely. You know 
 you’ve got a meal ticket at our house, good for a million 
 punches. Still I’ll have Vivian call you up this after- 
 noon.” 
 
 “ If she wants me. I’ll come,” said Booth in the most 
 matter-of-fact way. 
 
 Leslie settled down with a secret sigh of relief. He 
 regained his usual loquaciousness. The points of his 
 little moustache resumed their uprightness. 
 
 How do you like Sara?” he asked. It was a 
 
142 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 casual question, with no real meaning behind it as it 
 was uttered. No sooner had it left his lips, however, 
 than a new and rather staggering idea entered his 
 mind, — a small thing at first but one that grew with 
 amazing swiftness. 
 
 “ She is splendid,” said Booth warmly. 
 
 I thought you’d like her,” said Leslie, the idea 
 growing apace: It did not occur to him that he might 
 be nurturing disloyalty to the interests of his own sis- 
 ter. Things of that sort never bothered Leslie. When 
 all was said and done, Vivian had but a slim chance at 
 best, so why champion a faint hope? Why don’t you 
 do a portrait of her? It would be a wonderful thing, 
 old chap.” 
 
 He sat up a trifle straighter in his chair. 
 
 She hasn’t asked me to, which is the best reason in 
 the world. 
 
 Oh, I can fix that.” His lively imagination was 
 full of it now. 
 
 Thanks. Don’t bother.” 
 
 And there’s this to be said for a portrait of Sara,” 
 went on Leslie, rather too eagerly: she wouldn’t ob- 
 ject to having it exhibited in the galleries. ’Gad, it 
 would do you a world of good. Brandy.” 
 
 The other’s eyes narrowed. I suppose I am to in- 
 fer that Mrs. Wrandall courts publicity.” 
 
 Not at all,” cried the other impatiently. What 
 I mean is this : she’s taken a fancy to you, and if her 
 portrait could be the means of helping you — ” 
 
 “ Oh, cut that out, Les, — cut it out,” growled Booth 
 coldly. 
 
 Well, in any event, if you want to paint her, I can 
 fix it for you,” announced his companion. 
 
 If you don’t mind, old chap, I’ll tackle Miss Cas- 
 
IN WHICH HETTY IS WEIGHED 143 
 
 tieton first,” said Booth, dismissing the matter with a 
 yawn. 
 
 I hate the word tackle,” said Leslie. 
 
 On a bright, sunny afternoon two weeks later, Mrs. 
 Redmond Wrandall received her most intimate friend 
 in her boudoir. They were both in ample black. Mrs. 
 Rowe-Martin, it seems, had suffered a recent bereave- 
 ment — with an aspect of permanency, — in the loss of 
 a four thousand dollar Airdale who had stopped traffic 
 in Fifth Avenue for twenty minutes while a sympathetic 
 crowd viewed his gory remains, and an unhappy but 
 garrulous taxi-cab driver tried to account for his 
 crime. He never even thought of the insanity dodge. 
 The Airdale was given a most impressive funeral and 
 was burled in pomp with all his medals, ribbons, tags, 
 collars and platinum leashes, but minus a few of the 
 uncollected parts of his anatomy. While it had been a 
 complete catastrophe, he was by no means a complete 
 carcass. 
 
 Be that as it may, his mistress went into mourning, 
 denying herself so many diversions that not a few of 
 her friends became alarmed and advised her husband 
 to put her in a sanitarium. He was willing, poor chap, 
 but not she. She couldn’t see the sense of confining 
 her grief to the four walls of a sanitarium while the 
 four winds of heaven were at her disposal. 
 
 The most distressing feature of the great Airdale’s 
 taking-off lay in the fact that his descendants — he 
 had several sets of great-grandchildren — appeared to 
 be uncommonly ordinary brutes, without a symptom of 
 good breeding in the lot of them. They were so unde- 
 viatingly gauche and middle-class, that already the 
 spiteful tongues of envy had begun to question his 
 right to the medals and ribbons acquired at the bench 
 
THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 IM 
 
 shows, where Mrs. Rowe-Martin was considered one of 
 the immortals. She could have got a blue ribbon on a 
 yellow dog any time. Of course, in defence of her 
 exotic Airdale, she unblinkingly fell back on the para- 
 phrase : It’s a wise father that knows his own son ” ; 
 or the other way round, just as you please. 
 
 Mrs. Rowe-Martin professedly was middle-aged — 
 that is to say, just rounding fifty. As a woman is al- 
 ways fifty until she is sixty, just as it is nine o’clock 
 until the stroke of ten, there may be some question as 
 to which end of the middle-aged period she was round- 
 ing, but as that isn’t material to the development of this 
 story, we will give her the benefit of the doubt and 
 merely say that sensibly she dressed in black. 
 
 She was Mrs. Wrandall’s closest friend and confi- 
 dante. It was Mrs. Rowe-Martin who rushed over and 
 gave the smelling salts to Mrs. Wrandall when that ex- 
 cellent lady collapsed on hearing that her son Challis 
 was going to marry the daughter of old Sebastian 
 Gooch. It was she who acted as spokeswoman for the 
 distressed’mother and told the world — that is to say, 
 their world — that Sara was a scheming, designing 
 creature, whose sole aim in life was to get into the smart 
 ' set by the easiest way. It was she who comforted Mrs. 
 Wrandall, after the lamentable deed was done, by pro- 
 claiming from the house-tops that old man Gooch’s 
 daughter should never enter society if she could prevent 
 it, and went so far as to invite Challis to all of her 
 affairs without asking his wife to accompany him, quite 
 as if she didn’t know that he had a wife. (In speaking 
 of her to Challis, she invariably alluded to Sara as 
 Miss Gooch, for something over a year after the wed- 
 ding — and might have gone on for ever had not Mrs* 
 Wrandall, senior, upset everything by giving a recep- 
 
IN WHICH HETTY IS WEIGHED 145 
 
 tion in honour of her daughter-in-law: a bolt from a 
 clear sky, you may be sure, that left Mrs. Rowe-Mar- 
 tin stunned and bleeding on the battlefield of a mis- 
 taken cause.) She never quite got over that bit of 
 treachery on the part of her very best friend, although 
 she made the best of it by slyly confiding to other stu- 
 pefied persons that Challis’s father had taken the bit 
 in his mouth, — God knows why ! — and that Mrs. 
 Wrandall thought best to humour him for the time be- 
 ing, at least. And it was she who came to Mrs. Wran- 
 dall in her greatest trial and performed the gentlest 
 deeds that one woman can do for another when all the 
 world has gone black and hateful to her. When you 
 put her to the real test, a woman will always rise above 
 herself, no matter how lofty she may have considered 
 herself beforehand. 
 
 They were drinking tea, with the lemon left out. 
 
 My dear,” said Mrs. Rowe-Martin, I quite agree 
 with you. Leslie should be thinking of it.” 
 
 “ It means so much to me, Harriet, his getting the 
 right sort of girl. I feel confident that he isdnterested 
 — very deeply interested in Miss Castleton.” 
 
 I am so glad you like her.” 
 
 She is a dear.” 
 
 My sister has met her in London, and at one or 
 two of the country places. I was inquiring only yes- 
 terday. When I mentioned that she is related to Lord 
 Murgatroyd, Frances remembered her quite well. She 
 sees a lot of them, you know, during the season,” ex- 
 plained Mrs. Rowe-Martin affably. 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall concealed her curiosity. In the most 
 casual way she remarked : 
 
 I must ask Miss Castleton if she remembers Mrs. 
 Roodleigh.” 
 
146 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Oh, I fancy she won’t recall her,” her friend made 
 haste to say. Young girls are not likely to remember 
 elderly persons whom they meet — Oh, you might say 
 in passing, for that’s what it really is, you know.” 
 
 Still, if Frances knows the Murgatroyds so inti- 
 mately it isn’t likely — ” 
 
 Did I say she knew them intimately?” protested 
 the other, somewhat plaintively. How like me ! So 
 stupid! As a matter of fact, my dear, I don’t believe 
 Frances knows them at all — except as one knows peo- 
 ple in a general sort of way. Drawing-rooms, you 
 know, and all that sort of thing. Of course, every oiie 
 knows Lord and Lady Murgatro3^d. Just as they 
 might know the Duke of — well any one of the great 
 dukes, for that matter.” 
 
 Or King George,” added Mrs. Wrandall softly, 
 without a perceptible trace of spite. 
 
 She has met them, of course,” said Mrs. Rowe- 
 Martin defensively. Somehow, a defence was called 
 for; she couldn’t sit there and sajr nothing. 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall changed the subject, or at least di- 
 vided it. She put the chaff aside, for that was what 
 Mrs. Rowe-Martin’s revelations amounted to. 
 
 Leslie is such a steady, unimpressionable boy, you 
 see,” she said, apropos of nothing. 
 
 And so good looking,” added her friend beamingly. 
 
 It wouldn’t be like him to make a mistake where 
 his own happiness and welfare are concerned,” said the 
 subject’s mother, speaking more truth than she knew, 
 but not more than Mrs. Rowe-Martin knew. That lady 
 knew Leslie like a book. 
 
 And he is really devoted to her? ” 
 
 I fear so,” said her hostess, with a faint sigh. The 
 other sighed also. 
 
IN WHICH HETTY IS WEIGHED 147 
 
 My dear, it would be perfectly lovely. Why do 
 you say that?” 
 
 I suppose it’s the way all mothers feel. Of course, 
 I want to be sure that he is to be very, very happy.” 
 
 That is perfectly natural. And he will be happy.” 
 
 If either of them recalled the strenuous efforts Mrs. 
 Wrandall had made a couple of years before to get her 
 only daughter married off to a degenerate young Eng- 
 lish duke, the thought was submerged in the present 
 sea of sentimentality. It speaks well for Vivian’s char- 
 acter that she flatly refused to be given in marriage, 
 although it appeared to be the fashion at the time. It 
 was the year of the coronation. 
 
 Miss Castleton is a most uncommon girl,” said 
 Mrs. Wrandall, again apropos of nothing that had gone 
 before. 
 
 Most English girls are,” agreed her friend, scent- 
 ing something. 
 
 I mean to say, she is so unlike the girls one sees in 
 society. My husband says she’s level-headed. Sound 
 as a rivet, he also says. Nothing silly or flip about 
 her, he adds when he is particularly enthusiastic, and 
 he knows I hate the word ^ flip.’ Of course he means 
 flippant. He is very much taken with her.” 
 
 Mrs. Rowe-Martin pondered a moment before risk- 
 ing her next remark. 
 
 I can’t quite understand her taking up with Sara 
 Gooch in this fashion. You know what I mean. Sara 
 is the last person in the world you’d think a gently bred 
 person would — ” Here she pulled herself up with a 
 jerk. I mean, of course, a gently bred girl. Nat- 
 urally she would appeal to men — and gently bred men, 
 at that. But this present intimacy — well, isn’t it 
 rather extraordinary? ” 
 
148 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Mrs, Wrandall drained her cup, without taking her 
 eyes from the face of her friend. 
 
 You must remember, my dear Harriet, that Miss 
 Castleton looks upon Sara as a Wrandall, not a Gooch. 
 She was the wife of a Wrandall. That covers every- 
 thing so far as the girl is concerned. I dare say she 
 finds Sara amusing, interesting, and we all know she 
 is kindness itself. It doesn’t surprise me that Miss 
 Castleton admires her, or that she loves her. Sara has 
 improved in the last seven or eight years.” She said 
 this somewhat loftily. 
 
 Mrs. Rowe-Martin was most amiable. “ She has, 
 indeed, thanks to propinquity.” 
 
 And her own splendid intelligence,” added Mrs. 
 Wrandall, 
 
 Isn’t it wonderful how superior they are when it 
 comes to intelligence ” cried her friend, almost plain- 
 tively. I’ve noticed it in shop-girls and manicures, 
 over and over again.” 
 
 Perhaps you got the effect by contrast,” said Mrs. 
 Wrandall, pouring a little more tea into her friend’s 
 cup. Mrs. Rowe-Martin was silent. Sara deserves 
 a lot of credit. She has made a position for herself, 
 a very decided position. We are all quite proud of 
 her.” 
 
 Mrs, Rowe-Martin was on very intimate terms with 
 the Wrandall family skeleton. She could afford to be 
 plain spoken. 
 
 It is hard to reconcile your present attitude, my 
 dear, to the position you held a few years ago. Heaven 
 knows you weren’t proud of her then. She was dirt 
 beneath your feet.” 
 
 My dear Harriet,” said Mrs. Wrandall, without so 
 much as the flutter of an eyelid, I am not saying that 
 
IN WHICH HETTY IS WEIGHED 149 
 
 I would select her as a daughter-in-law^ even to-day. 
 Don’t misunderstand me.” 
 
 I am not underestimating her splendid intelligence,” 
 said Mrs. Rowe-Martin sharply, and her hostess was 
 so long in working it out that it was allowed to pass 
 unresented. I dare say she will marry again,” went 
 on the speaker blandly. 
 
 Sara’s mother-in-law was startled. 
 
 It’s rather early to suggest such a thing, isn’t it? ” 
 she asked reproachfully. 
 
 Forgive me,” cried Mrs. Rowe-Martin, but she did 
 not attempt to unsay the words. She meant them to 
 sink in when she uttered them. It was commonly pre- 
 dicted in society that Challis Wrandall’s wife would 
 further elevate herself by wedding the most dependable 
 nobleman who came along, and without any appreciable 
 consideration for the feelings of her late husband’s fam- 
 
 iiy- 
 
 It is quite natural — and right — that she should 
 marry,” said Mrs. Wrandall, after a moment’s deliber- 
 ation. She is young and beautiful and we sincerely 
 hope she will find some one — But, my dear, aren’t we 
 drifting? We were speaking of Leslie.” 
 
 And Miss Castleton. You are quite satisfied, then? 
 You don’t feel that he would be making a mistake? ” 
 Mrs. Wrandall touched her handkerchief to the cor- 
 ners of her eyes. 
 
 We could not possibly raise any objection to Miss 
 Castleton, if that is what you mean, Harriet,” she said. 
 
 I am so glad you feel that way about it, my dear,” 
 said her friend, touching her handkerchief to her lips. 
 
 It would grieve me more than I can tell you if I 
 thought you would have to go through with another 
 experience like that of — Forgive me ! I won’t distress 
 
150 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 you by recalling those awful days. Poor, susceptible 
 Challis ! ’’ 
 
 No,’’ said Mrs. Wrandall firmly; “Leslie is safe. 
 We feel quite sure of him.” 
 
 The visitor was reflective. “ I suppose there is no 
 doubt that Miss Castleton will accept him/’ she mused 
 aloud. 
 
 “ We are assuming, of course, that Leslie means to 
 ask her,” said Leslie’s mother, with infinite patience. 
 
 “ I only mentioned it because it is barely possible 
 she may have other fish to fry.” 
 
 “ Fish.? ” 
 
 “ A figure of speech, my dear.” 
 
 And it set Mrs. Wrandall to thinking. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 hawkeight’s model. 
 
 Beandon Booth took a small cottage on the upper roadj 
 half way between the village and the home of Sara 
 Wrandall, and not far from the abhorred back gate 
 that swung in the teeth of her connections by marriage. 
 Pie set up his establishment in half a day and, being 
 settled, betook himself off to dine with Sara and Hetty. 
 All his household cares, like the world, rested snugly on 
 the shoulders of an Atlas named Pat, than whom there 
 was no more faithful servitor in all the earth, nor in 
 the heavens, for that matter, if we are to accept his own 
 estimate of himself. In any event, he was a treasure. 
 Booth’s house was always in order. Try as he would, 
 he couldn’t get it out of order. Pat’s wife saw to that. 
 She was the cook, housekeeper, steward, seamstress, 
 nurse and everything else except the laundress, and 
 she v/ould have been that if Booth hadn’t put his foot 
 down on it. He was rather finicky about his bosoms, it 
 seems — and his cuffs, as well, 
 
 Pat and Mary had been in the Booth family since the 
 flood, so to speak. As far back as Brandon could re- 
 member, the quaint Irishman had been the same wrinkled, 
 nut-brown, merry-eyed comedian that he was to-day, 
 and Mary the same serene, blarneying wife of the man. 
 They were not a day older than they were in the begin- 
 ning. He used to wonder if Methuselah knew them. 
 When he set up bachelor quarters for himself in New 
 York, his mother bestowed these priceless domestic 
 treasures upon him. They journeyed up from Phila- 
 delphia and complacently took charge of his destinies ; 
 
 151 
 
152 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 no matter which way they led or how diversified they 
 may have been in conception, Brandon’s destinies al- 
 ways came safely around the circle to the starting point 
 with Pat and Mary atop of them, as chipper as you 
 please and none the worse for erosion. 
 
 They stoutly maintained that one never gets too old 
 to learn, a conclusion that Brandon sometimes resented. 
 
 He had been obliged to discharge three chauffeurs 
 because Pat did not get on wel! with them, and he had 
 found it quite impossible to heep a dog for the simple 
 reason that Mary insisted on keeping a cat — a most 
 unamiable, belligerent cat at that. He would have 
 made home a hell for any well-connected dog. 
 
 As he swung jauntily down the tree-lined road that 
 led to Sara’s portals. Booth was full of the joy of 
 living. Dusk was falling. A soft bronze glowed in the 
 western sky. Over the earth lay the tranquil purple 
 of spent refulgence, the after-glow of a red day, for 
 the sun had shone hot since early morn through a queer, 
 smoky screen of haze. There was a deep stillness over 
 everything. Indolent Nature slept in the shadows, as 
 if at rest after the weary day, with scarcely a leaf 
 stirring. And yet there was a subtle coolness in the air, 
 the feel of a storm that was yet unborn ^ — the imper- 
 ceptible shudder of a tempest that was drawing its first 
 breath. 
 
 Before the night was half gone, the storm would be 
 upon them, to revel for a while and then pass on, leav- 
 ing behind it the dank smell of a grateful earth. 
 
 But Booth had no thought for the thing that was 
 afar o£F. He was thinking of the quarter-of-an-hour 
 that came next in the wheel of time, whose minutes were 
 to check off the results of a fortnight’s anticipation. 
 He had not seen either of the ladies of Southlook in the 
 
HAWKRIGHT’S MODEL 
 
 153 
 
 past two weeks, but he had been under the spell of them 
 so sharply that they were seldom out of his thoughts. 
 
 Sara was at the bottom of the terrace, moving among 
 the flower beds in the formal garden. He distinguished 
 her from a distance : a slender, graceful figure in black. 
 A black scarf edged with maribou covered her shoulders, 
 the line of a white neck separating it from the raven 
 hue of her hair. He paused at the lower gate to look. 
 Then his gaze was drawn to the gleaming white figure 
 at the top of the terrace, outlined distinctly against the 
 blue-black sky that hung over the Sound. Hetty stood 
 there, straight and motionless, looking out over the 
 water. So still was the evening wind that not a flutter 
 of her soft gown was noticeable. She was like a statue. 
 
 At the sound of his footsteps on the gravel, Sara 
 looked up and instantly smiled her welcome. When 
 Sara smiled the heart of man responded, long in advance 
 of his lips. Hers was the inviting, mysterious smile of 
 the Orient, with the eyes half shaded by drooping, 
 languorous lids : dusky, shadowy eyes that looked at you 
 as through a veil, and yet were as clear as crystal once 
 you lost the illusion. 
 
 It is so nice to see you again,” she said, giving him 
 her hand. 
 
 “ ‘ My heart’s in the highlands,’ ” he quoted, 
 waving a vague tribute to the heavens. And it’s nice 
 of you to see me,” he added gracefully. Then he 
 pointed up the terrace. Isn’t she a picture? ’Gad, 
 it’s lovely — the whole effect. That picture against 
 the sky — ” 
 
 He stopped short, and the sentence was never finished, 
 although she waited for him to complete it before re- 
 marking : 
 
 Her heart is not in the highlands.” 
 
154 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 You mean — something’s gone wrong — ” 
 
 Oh, no/’ she said, still smiling ; nothing like that. 
 Her heart is in the lowlands. You would consider 
 Washington Square to be in the lowlands, wouldn’t 
 you ? ” 
 
 Oh, I see,” he said slowly. You mean she’s think- 
 ing of Leslie.” 
 
 Who knows ? It was a venture on my part, that’s 
 all. She may be thinking of you, Mr. Booth.” 
 
 Or some chap in old England, that’s more like it,” 
 he retorted. She can’t be thinking of me, you know. 
 No one ever thinks of me when I’m out of view. Out 
 of sight, out of mind. No ; she’s thinking of something 
 a long way off — or some one, if you choose to have 
 it that way.” 
 
 In that case, it isn’t good for her to be thinking of 
 things so remote. Shall we shout ^ halloa the house ” 
 
 He shot a glance at her and responded gallantly: 
 
 If she isn’t thinking of us, why should we be thinking 
 of her.f^ Is it too near the dinner hour for you to let 
 me sit here and rest before attempting to climb all those 
 steps. ^ And will you sit beside me, as the good Omar 
 might have said? ” He was fanning himself with his 
 straw hat. 
 
 She searched his face for a second, a smiling but in- 
 scrutable expression in her eyes, and then sat down on 
 the rustic bench at the foot of the terrace. 
 
 <^Why didn’t you let me send the motor for you?” 
 she asked, as he took his place beside her. 
 
 I mean to have an appetite in the country,” he 
 said, taking a deep, full breath. Motors don’t aid 
 the appetite. Aeroplanes are better. I had a flight 
 with a friend up in Westchester last week. I was very 
 hungry when I came down.” 
 
Hetty stood there, straight and motionless, looking out 
 over the water 
 
HAWERIGHT’S MODEL 
 
 155 
 
 We’ll all be flying before we really know it,” said 
 she. Hetty tried it in France this spring. Have 
 you seen Leslie this week.^ ” 
 
 Fve been in Philadelphia for a few days. Is he 
 coming out on Friday ? ” 
 
 Oh, yes. He comes so often nowadays that we 
 call him a commuter.” 
 
 Attractive spot, this,” said he, with a significant 
 glance up the terrace. 
 
 So it would appear.” 
 
 He’s really keen about her ? ” 
 
 She did not reply, but her smile meant more than 
 words. 
 
 I am eager to get at the portrait,” said he, after 
 a moment. 
 
 Leslie tells me that you want to do me also,” said she 
 carelessly. 
 
 He flushed. Confound him ! I suppose it annoys 
 you, Mrs. Wrandall. He shouldn’t carry tales.” 
 
 “ But do you.? ” 
 
 I should say I do,” he cried warmly. ‘^For my 
 own pleasure and satisfaction, you understand. There’s 
 nothing I’d like better.” 
 
 « We’ll see how successfully you flatter Hetty,” said 
 she. If it is possible to make her prettier than she 
 really is, you ma; paint me. I shall be the first to 
 fall at your feet and implore yod to make me beautiful.” 
 
 His eyes gleamed. If I fail in that,” said he 
 warmly, it will be because I am without LAegrity.” 
 
 Again she smiled upon him with half-closed, shadowy 
 eyes, and shook her head. Then she arose. 
 
 Let us go in. Pletty is eager to see you again.” 
 
 They started up the terrace. His face clouded. 
 
 “ I have had a feeling all along that she’d rather 
 
156 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 not have this portrait painted, Mrs. Wrandall. A 
 queer sort of feeling that she doesn’t just like the idea 
 of being put on canvas.” 
 
 Nonsense,” she said, without looking at him. 
 
 Of course, I could understand her not caring to 
 give up the time to it. It’s a nuisance, I know. But 
 it isn’t that sort of feeling I have about her attitude. 
 There’s something else. Doesn’t she like me.^ ” 
 
 Of course she does,” she exclaimed. How ridicu- 
 lous. She v/ill love it, once the picture is under way. 
 It is the beginning of it that disturbs her. Isn’t that 
 always the way? ” 
 
 I am afraid you don’t know women,” said he ban- 
 teringly. 
 
 By the way, have you been able to recall where you 
 first saw her, or is your memory still a blank? ” she 
 asked suddenly. 
 
 I can’t think where it was or when,” said he, but 
 I am absolutely positive I’ve seen her before. Her 
 face is not the kind one forgets, you know.” 
 
 It may come to you unexpectedly.” 
 
 It’s maddening, not to be able to remember.” 
 
 The dusk of night hid the look of relief that came 
 into her eyes. 
 
 Hetty met them at the top of the steps. The elec- 
 tric porch lights had just been turned on by the butler. 
 The girl stood in the path of the light. Booth was 
 never to forget the loveliness of her in that moment. 
 He carried the image with him on the long walk home 
 through the black night. (He declined Sara’s offer to 
 send him over in the car for the very reason that he 
 wanted the half-hour of solitude in which to concentrate 
 all the impressions she had made on his fancy.) 
 
 The three of them stood there for a few minutes, 
 
HAWKRIGHT’S MODEL 
 
 157 
 
 awaiting the butler’s announcement. Sara’s arm was 
 about Hetty’s shoulders. He was so taken up with the 
 picture they presented that he scarcely heard their light 
 chatter. They were types of loveliness so full of con- 
 trast that he marvelled at the power bf Nature to create 
 women in the same mould and yet to model so differently. 
 
 They were as near alike in height, figure and carriage 
 as two women could be, and yet there was a subtle dis- 
 tinction that left him conscious of the fact that two 
 vastly different strains of blood ran through their 
 veins. Apart, he would not have perceived this marked 
 difference in them. Hetty represented the violet, Sara 
 the pansy. The distinction may be subtile. However, 
 it was the estimate he formed in that moment of com- 
 parison. 
 
 The English girl’s soft white gown was cut low in the 
 neck, her shapely arms were bare. Sara’s black cov- 
 ered her arms and shoulders, even to the slender throat. 
 The hair of both was black and rich and alive with the 
 gloss of health. The eyes of one were blue and velvety, 
 even in the glare of light that fell from above ; those of 
 the other were black. Oriental, mysterious. 
 
 As they entered the vestibule, a servant came up with 
 the word that Miss Castleton was wanted at the tele- 
 phone, ^Hong distance from New York.” 
 
 The girl stopped in her tracks. Booth looked at 
 her in mild surprise, a condition which gave way an in- 
 stant later to perplexity. The look of annoyance in 
 her eyes could not be disguised or mistaken. 
 
 Ask him to call me up later, Watson,” she said 
 quietly. 
 
 This is the third time he has called. Miss Castle^ 
 ton,” said the man. You were dressing, if you please^ 
 ma’am, the first time — ” 
 
158 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 I will come,’’ she interrupted sharply, with a curi- 
 ous glance at Sara, who for some reason avoided meet- 
 ing Booth’s gaze. 
 
 Tell him we shall expect him on Friday,” said Mrs. 
 Wrandall. 
 
 By George ! ” thought Booth, as she left them. 
 
 I wonder if it can be Leslie. If it is — well, he 
 wouldn’t be flattered if he could have seen the look in 
 her eyes.” 
 
 Later on, he had no trouble in gathering that it was 
 Leslie Wrandall who called, but he was very much in the 
 dark as to the meaning of that expressive look. He 
 only knew that she was in the telephone room for ten 
 minutes or longer, and that all trace of emotion was 
 gone from her face when she rejoined them with a brief 
 apology for keeping them waiting. 
 
 He left at ten-thirty, saying good-night to them on 
 the terrace. Sara walked to the steps with him. 
 
 Don’t you think her voice is lovely.^” she asked. 
 Hetty had sung for them. 
 
 I dare say,” he responded absently. Give you 
 my word, though, I wasn’t thinking of her voice. She 
 is lovely.” 
 
 He walked home as if in a dream. The spell was 
 on him. 
 
 Far in the night, he started up from the easy chair 
 in which he had been smoking and dreaming and racking 
 his brain by turns. 
 
 By J ove ! ” he exclaimed aloud. “ I remember ! I’ve 
 got it! And to-morrow I’ll prove it.” 
 
 Then he went to bed, with the storm from the sea 
 pounding about the house, and slept serenely until Pat 
 and Mary wondered whether he meant to get up at all. 
 
 Pat,” said he at breakfast, I want you to go to 
 
HAWKRIGHT’S MODEL 
 
 159 
 
 the city this morning and fetch out all of the Studios 
 you can find about the place. The old ones are in that 
 Italian hall seat and the late ones are in the studio. 
 Bring all of them.” 
 
 There’s a divvil of a bunch of thim,” said Pat rue- 
 fully. 
 
 He was not to begin sketching the figure until the 
 following day. After luncheon, however, he had an ap- 
 pointment to inspect Hetty’s wardrobe, ostensibly for 
 the purpose of picking out a gown for the picture. 
 As a matter of fact, he had decided the point to his own 
 satisfaction the night before. She should pose for him 
 in the dainty white dress she had worn on that occasion. 
 
 While they were going over the extensive assort- 
 ment of gowns, with Sara as the judge from whom there 
 seemed to be no appeal, he casually inquired if she had 
 ever posed before. 
 
 Two ladies’ maids were engaged in flinging the costly 
 garments about as if they represented so much rubbish. 
 The floor was littered with silks and satins and laces. 
 He was accustomed to this ruthless handling of exquisite 
 fabrics by eager ladies of wealth: it was one way these 
 pampered women had of showing their contempt for 
 possession. Gowns came from everywhere by the arm- 
 load ; from closets, presses and trunks, ultimately land- 
 ing in a conglomerate heap on the floor when cast aside 
 as undesirable by the artist, the model and the censor. 
 
 He watched her closely as he put the question. She 
 was holding up a beautiful point lace creation for his 
 inspection, and there was a pleading smile on her lips. 
 It must have been her favourite gown. The smile faded 
 away. The hand that dangled the garment before his 
 eyes suddenly became motionless, as if paralysed. In 
 the next instant, she recovered herself, and, giving the 
 
160 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 lace a quick fillip that sent its odour of sachet leaping 
 to his nostrils, responded with perfect composure. 
 
 Isn’t there a ^distinction between posing for an ar- 
 tist, and sitting for one’s portrait? ” she asked. 
 
 He was silent. The fact that he did not respond 
 seemed to disturb her after a moment or two. She made 
 the common mistake of pressing the question. 
 
 Why do you ask? ” was her inquiry. When it was 
 too late she wished she had not uttered the words. He 
 had caught the somewhat anxious note in her voice. 
 
 We always ask that, I think,” he said. “ It’s a 
 habit.” 
 
 Oh,” she said doubtfully. 
 
 “ And by the way, you haven’t answered.” 
 
 She was busy with the gown for a time. At last she 
 looked him full in the face. 
 
 That’s true,” she agreed ; I haven’t answered, 
 have I? No, Mr. Booth, I’ve never posed for a por- 
 trait. It is a new experience for me. You will have to 
 contend with a great deal of stupidity on my part. But 
 I shall try to be plastic.” 
 
 He uttered a polite protest, and pursued the question 
 no farther. Her answer had been so palpably evasive 
 that it struck him as bald, even awkward. 
 
 Pat, disgruntled and irritable to the point of pro- 
 fanity, — he was a privileged character and might have 
 sworn if he felt like it without receiving notice, — came 
 shambling up the cottage walk late that afternoon, 
 bearing two large, shoulder-sagging bundles. Pie had 
 walked from the station, — a matter of half-a-mile, — 
 and it was hot. His employer sat in the shady porch, 
 viewing his approach. 
 
 Plave you got them? ” he inquired. 
 
 Pat dropped the bundles on the lower step and stared, 
 
HAWERIGHT’S MODEL 
 
 161 
 
 speechless. Then he mopped his drenched, turkey-red 
 face with his handkerchief. He got his breath after a 
 spell of contemptuous snorting. 
 
 Have I got what?” he demanded sarcastically. 
 “ The measles ? ” 
 
 The Studios, Patrick,” said Booth reprovingly. 
 
 ‘‘No, sor,” said Pat; “I came absolutely empty- 
 handed, as you may have seen, sor.” 
 
 “ I knew I couldn’t be mistaken. I was confident I 
 saw nothing in your hands.” 
 
 “ I kept thim closed, sor, so’s you couldn’t see what 
 was r’ally in thim. I’ve been wid you long enough, sor, 
 to know how you hate the sight av blisthers.” 
 
 “ They must be quite a novelty to you, Patrick. I 
 should think you’d be proud of them.” 
 
 “ Where am I to put them, sor? ” 
 
 “ The blisters?” 
 
 “Yis, sor.” 
 
 “ On this table, if you please. And you might cut 
 the strings while you’re about it.” 
 
 Pat put the bundles on the wicker table and cut the 
 heavy twine in dignified silence. Carefully rolling it up 
 in a neat ball, he stuck it in his pocket. Then he faced 
 his employer. 
 
 “ Is there annyt’ing else, sor? ” 
 
 “ I think not, at present.” 
 
 “ Not aven a cup av tea, sor? ” 
 
 “ No, thanks.” 
 
 “ Thin, if you will excuse me, I’ll go about me work. 
 I’ve had a pleasant day off, sor, thanks to ye. It’s 
 hard to go back to work afther such a splindid spell of 
 idleness. Heigho ! I’d like to be a gintleman av leisure 
 all the time, that I would, sor. The touch I’ve had av 
 it to-day may be the sp’iling av me. If you’re a smart 
 
162 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 man, Mr. Brandon Booth, ye’ll not be letting me off 
 for a holiday like this again very soon.” 
 
 Booth laughed outright. Pat’s face wrinkled into a 
 slow, forgiving grin. 
 
 I love you, Pat,” cried the painter, in spite of 
 the way you bark at me.” 
 
 It’s a poor dog that don’t know his own master,” 
 said Pat magnanimously. Whin you’re t’rough wid 
 the magazines, I’ll carry thim down to the cellar, sor.” 
 
 What’s the matter with the attic ? ” 
 
 Nothing at all, at all. I was only finking they’d 
 be handier for you to get at in the cellar. And it’s a 
 dom sight cooler down there.” 
 
 With that he departed, blinking slyly. 
 
 The young man drew a chair up to the table and 
 began the task of working out the puzzle that now 
 seemed more or less near to solution. He had a pretty 
 clear idea as to the period he wanted to investigate. To 
 the best of his recollection, the Studios published 
 three or four years back held the key. He selected 
 the numbers and began to run through them. One after 
 another they were cast aside without result. In any 
 other cause he would have tired of the quest, but in this 
 his curiosity was so commanding that he stuck to the 
 task without complaint. He was positive in his mind 
 that what he desired was to be found inside the covers 
 of one of these magazines. He was searching for a 
 vaguely remembered article on one of the lesser-known 
 English painters who had given great promise at the 
 time it was published but who dropped completely out 
 of notice soon afterward because of a mistaken notion 
 of his own importance. If Booth’s memory served him 
 right, the fellow came a cropper, so to speak, in trying 
 to ride rough shod over public opinion, and went to the 
 
HAWICRIGHT’S MODEL 
 
 163 
 
 dogs. He had been painting sensibly up to that time, 
 but suddenly went in for the most violent style of im- 
 pressionism. That was the end of him. 
 
 There had been reproductions of his principal can- 
 vases, with sketches and studies in charcoal. One of 
 these pictures had made a lasting impression on Booth : 
 the figure of a young woman in deep meditation stand- 
 ing in the shadow of a window casement from which 
 she looked out upon the world apparently without a 
 thought of it. A slender young woman in vague reds 
 and browns, whose shadowy face was positively illu- 
 minated by a pair of wonderful blue eyes. 
 
 He came upon it at last. For a long time he sat 
 there gazing at the face of Hetty Castleton, a look of 
 half-wonder, half-triumph in his eyes. There could 
 be no doubt as to the identity of the subject. The face 
 was hers, the lovely eyes were hers : the velvety, dreamy, 
 soulful eyes that had haunted him for years, as he now 
 believed. In no sense could the picture be described as 
 a portrait. It was a study, deliberately arranged and 
 deliberately posed for in the artist’s studio. He was 
 mystified. Why should she, the daughter of Colonel 
 Castleton, the grand-niece of an earl, be engaged in 
 posing for what evidently was meant to be a commercial 
 product of this whilom artist? 
 
 He remembered the painting itself as he had seen 
 it in the exhibition at the National Academy when this 
 fellow — Hawkright was his name — was at the top 
 of his promise as a painter. He remembered going back 
 to it again and again and marvelling at the subtle, deli- 
 cate beauty of the thing. Now he knew that it was the 
 face, and not the art of the painter that had affected 
 him so enduringly. The fellow had shown other paint- 
 ings, but he recalled that none of them struck him save 
 
164 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 this oiiQ, After all, it mas the face that made the pic- 
 ture memorable. 
 
 Turning from this skilfully coloured full page re- 
 production, he glanced at first casually over the dozen 
 or more sketches and studies on the succeeding pages. 
 Many of them represented studies of women’s heads and 
 figures, with little or no attempt to obtain a likeness. 
 Some were half-draped, showing in a sketchy way the 
 long graceful lines of the half-nude figure, of bare shoul- 
 ders and breasts, of gauze-like fabrics that but illy 
 concealed impressive charms. Suddenly his eyes nar- 
 rowed and a sharp exclamation fell from his lips. He 
 bent closer to the pages and studied the drawings with 
 redoubled interest. 
 
 Then he whistled softly to himself, a token of simple 
 amazement. The head of each of these remarkable 
 studies suggested in outline the head and features of 
 Hetty Castleton ! She had been Hawkright’s model ! 
 
 The next morning at ten he was at Southlook, ar- 
 ranging his easel and canvas in the north end of the 
 long living-room, where the light from the tall French 
 windows afforded abundant and well-distributed light 
 for the enterprise in hand. Hetty had ndt yet ap- 
 peared. Sara, attired in a loose morning gown, was 
 watching him from a comfortable chair in the corner, 
 one shapely bare arm behind her head; the free hand 
 was gracefully employed in managing a cigarette. He 
 was conscious of the fact that her lazy, half-alert gaze 
 was upon him all the time, although she pretended to be 
 entirely indifferent to the preparations. Dimly he 
 could see the faint smile of interest on her lips. 
 
 By Jove,” he exclaimed with sudden fervour, I 
 wish I could get you just as you are, Mrs. Wrandall. 
 
HAWimiGHT’S MODEL 165 
 
 Do you mind if I sketch you in — just to preserve the 
 pose for the future — ” 
 
 Never!” she cried and forthwith changed her po- 
 sition. She laughed at the look of disappointment in 
 his face. 
 
 You’ve no idea hov/ — er — attractive — ” he be- 
 gan confusedly, but broke off with a laugh. I beg 
 your pardon. I couldn’t help it.” 
 
 “ The potent appeal of a cigarette,” she surmised 
 shrewdly. 
 
 Not at all,” he said promptly. He was a bit red 
 in the face as he turned to busy himself with the tubes 
 and brushes. When he glanced at her again, he found 
 that she had resumed her former attitude. 
 
 Hetty came in at that moment, calm, serene and love- 
 lier than ever in the clear morning light. She was wear- 
 ing the simple white gown he had chosen the day before. 
 If she was conscious of the rather intense scrutiny he 
 bestowed upon her as she gave him her hand in greet- 
 ing, she did not appear to be in the least disturbed. 
 
 You may go away, Sara,” she said firmly. I 
 shall be too dreadfully self-conscious if you are looking 
 on.” 
 
 Booth looked at her rather sharply. Sara indolently 
 abandoned her comfortable chair and left them alone in 
 the room. 
 
 “ Shall we try a few effects. Miss Castleton.? ” he in- 
 quired, after a period of constraint that had its effect 
 on both of them. 
 
 I am in your hands,” she said simply. 
 
 He made suggestions. She fell into the positions so 
 easily, so naturally, so effectively, that he put aside all 
 previous doubts and blurted out : 
 
 “ You have posed before. Miss Castleton.” 
 
166 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 She smiled frankly. But not for a really truly 
 portrait,” she said. Such as this is to be.” 
 
 He hesitated an instant. I think I recall a canvas 
 by Maurice Hawkright,” he said, and at once experi- 
 enced a curious sense of perturbation. It was not un- 
 like fear. 
 
 Instead of betraying the confusion or surprise he ex- 
 pected, Miss Castleton merely raised her eyebrows in- 
 quiringly. 
 
 ‘^What has that to do with me, Mr. Booth.?” she 
 asked. 
 
 He laughed awkwardly. 
 
 “Don’t you know his work.?” he inquired, with a 
 slight twist of his lip. 
 
 “ I may have seen his pictures,” she replied, pucker- 
 ing her brow as if in reflection. 
 
 He stared for a second. 
 
 “ Why do you look at me in that way, Mr. Booth.? ” 
 she cried, with a nervous little laugh. 
 
 “ Do you mean to say you — er — that is, you don’t 
 know Hawkright’s work.? ” 
 
 “ Is that so very strange .? ” she inquired plaintively. 
 
 “By Jove,” he muttered, quite taken aback. “I 
 don’t understand. I’m flabbergasted.” 
 
 “ Please explain yourself,” she said stiffly. 
 
 “ You must have a double somewhere, Miss Castle- 
 ton,” said he, still staring. “ Some one who looks 
 enough like you to be — ” 
 
 “ Oh,” she cried, with a bright smile of understanding. 
 “ I see ! Yes, I have a double — a really remarkable 
 double. Have you never seen Hetty Glynn, the ac- 
 tress ? ” 
 
 “ I am sure I have not,” he said, taking a long 
 breath. It was one of relief, he remembered afterward. 
 
HAWKRIGHT’S MODEL 167 
 
 If she is so like you as all that, I couldn’t have for- 
 gotten her.” 
 
 She is quite unknown, I believe,” she went on, ig- 
 noring the implied compliment. A chorus-girl, or 
 something like that. They say she is wonderfully like 
 me — or was, at least, a few years ago.” 
 
 He was silent for a few minutes, studying her face 
 and figure with the critical eye of the artist. As he 
 turned to the canvas with his crayon point, he remarked, 
 with an unmistakable note of relief in his voice : 
 
 That explains everything. It must have been 
 Hetty Glynn who posed for all those things of Hawk- 
 right’s.” 
 
 I dare say,” said she indiflPerently. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 THE GHOST AT THE FEAST 
 
 The next day he appeared bright and early with his 
 copy of the Studio, 
 
 There,” he said, holding it before her eyes. She 
 took it from his hands and stared long and earnestly 
 at the reproduction. 
 
 Do you think it like me?” she inquired inno- 
 cently. 
 
 Amazingly like you,” he declared with conviction. 
 
 She turned the page. He was watching her closely. 
 As she looked upon the sketches of the half-nude figure 
 a warm blush covered her face and neck. She did not 
 speak for a full minute, and he was positive that her 
 fingers tightened their grasp on the magazine. 
 
 The same model,” he said quietly. 
 
 She nodded her head. 
 
 Hetty Glynn, I am sure,” she said, after a pause, 
 without lifting her eyes. Her voice was low, the words 
 not very distinct. 
 
 He drew a long breath, and she looked up quickly. 
 What he saw in her honest blue eyes convicted her. 
 
 Sara Wrandall came into the room at that moment. 
 Hetty hastily closed the magazine and held it behind 
 her. Booth had intended to show the reproduction 
 to Mrs. Wrandall, but the girl’s behaviour caused him 
 to change his mind. He felt that he possessed a secret 
 that could not be shared with Sara Wrandall, then or 
 afterward. Moreover, he decided that he would not re- 
 fer to the Hawkright picture again unless the girl her- 
 self brought up the subject. All this flashed through 
 
 168 
 
THE GHOST AT THE FEAST 169 
 
 his mind as he stepped forward to greet the new- 
 comer. 
 
 When he turned again to Hetty, the magazine had 
 disappeared. He never saw it afterward, and, what is 
 more to the point, he never asked her to produce it. 
 
 There was a marked change in Hetty’s manner after 
 that when they were left alone together. She seemed 
 inert, distrait and at times almost unfriendly. There 
 v/ere occasions, however, when she went to the other ex- 
 treme in trying to be at ease with him. These tran- 
 sitions were singularly marked. He could not fail to 
 notice them. As for himself, he was uncomfortable, 
 ill-at-ease. An obvious barrier had sprung up between 
 them. 
 
 When Sara was present, the girl seemed to be her old 
 self, but at no other time. Frequently during the sit- 
 tings of the next few days he caught her looking at him 
 without apparently being aware of the intensity of her 
 gaze. He had the feeling that she was trying to read 
 his thoughts, but what impressed him more than any- 
 thing else was the increasing look of wonder and appeal 
 that lurked in her deep, questioning eyes. It seemed 
 almost as if she were pleading for mercy with them. 
 
 He thought hard over the situation. The obvious 
 solution came to him : she had been at one time reduced 
 to the necessity of posing, a circumstance evidently 
 known to but few and least of all to Sara Wrandall, 
 from whom the girl plainly meant to keep the truth. 
 This conviction distressed him, but not in the way that 
 might have been expected. He had no scruples about 
 sharing the secret or in keeping it inviolate; his real 
 distress lay in the fear that Mrs. Wrandall might hear 
 of all this from other and perhaps ungentle sources. 
 As for her posing for Hawkright, it meant little or 
 
170 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 nothing to him. In his own experience, two girls of 
 gentle birth had served as models for pictures of his own 
 making, and he fully appreciated the exigencies that 
 had driven them to it. One had posed in the alto- 
 gether.’’ She was a girl of absolutely irreproachable 
 character, who afterwards married a chap he knew very 
 well, and who was fully aware of that short phase in her 
 life. That feature of the situation meant nothing to 
 him. He was in no doubt concerning Hetty, She was 
 what she appeared to be: a gentlewoman. 
 
 He began to experience a queer sense of pity for her. 
 Her eyes haunted him when they were separated ; they 
 dogged him when they were together. More than once 
 he was moved to rush over and take her in his arms, 
 and implore her to tell him all, to trust him with 
 everything. At such times the thought of holding the 
 slim, warm, ineffably feminine body in his arms was 
 most distracting. He rather feared for himself. If 
 such a thing were to happen, — and it might happen if 
 the impulse seized him at the psychological moment of 
 least resistance, — the result in all probability would 
 be disastrous. She would turn on him like an injured 
 animal and rend him! Alas, for that leveller called 
 reason 1 It spoils many good intentions. 
 
 He admitted to himself that he was under the spell 
 of her. It was not love, he was able to contend; but 
 it was a m 3 ^sterious appeal to something within him 
 that had never revealed itself before. He couldn’t 
 quite explain what it was. 
 
 In his solitary hours at the cottage on the upper 
 road, he was wont to take his friend Leslie Wrandall 
 into consideration. As a friend, was it not his duty 
 to go to him with his sordid little tale? Was it right 
 to let Wrandall go on with his wooing when there ex^ 
 
THE GHOST AT THE FEAST 
 
 171 
 
 isted that which might make all the difference in the 
 world to him? He invariably brought these delibera- 
 tions to a close by relaxing Into a grim smile of amuse- 
 ment, as much as to say : Serve him right, anyway. 
 Trust him to sift her antecedents thoroughly. He’s 
 already done it, and he is quite satisfied with the result. 
 Serve them all right, for that matter.” 
 
 But then there was Hetty Glynn. What of her? 
 Hetty Glynn, real or mythical, was a disturbing factor 
 in his deductions. If there was a real Hetty Glynn and 
 she was Hetty Castleton’s double, what then? 
 
 On the fifth day of a series of rather prolonged and 
 tedious sittings, he was obliged to confine his work to 
 an hour and a half in the forenoon. Mrs. Wrandall 
 was having a few friends in for auction-bridge immedi- 
 ately after luncheon. She asked him to stay over and 
 take a hand, but he declined. He did not play bridge. 
 
 Leslie was coming out on an evening train. Booth, 
 in commenting on this, again remarked a sharp change 
 in Hetty’s manner. They had been conversing some- 
 what buoyantly up to the moment he mentioned Leslie’s 
 impending visit. In a flash her manner changed. A 
 quick but unmistakable frown succeeded her smiles, and 
 for some reason she suddenly relapsed into a state of 
 reserve that was little short of sullen. He was puz- 
 zled, as he had been before. 
 
 The day was hot. Sara volunteered to take him 
 home in the motor. An errand ii the village was the 
 excuse she gave for riding over with him. Heretofore 
 she had sent him over alone with the chauffeur. 
 
 She looked very handsome, very tempting, as she 
 came dbwn to the car. 
 
 By Jove,” he said to himself, she is wonderful!” 
 
 He handed her into the car with the grace of a cour- 
 
172 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 tier, and she smiled upon him serenely, as a princess 
 might have smiled in the days when knighthood was in 
 flower. 
 
 When she sat him down at his little garden gate, he 
 put the question that had been seething in his mind ail 
 the way down the shady stretch they had traversed. 
 
 Have you ever seen Hetty Glynn, the English ac- 
 tress? ’’ 
 
 Sara was always prepared. She knew the question 
 would come when least expected. 
 
 “ Oh, yes,” she replied, with interest. Have you 
 noticed the resemblance? They are as like as two peas 
 in a pod. Isn’t it extraordinary? ” 
 
 He was a bit staggered. I have never seen Hetty 
 Glynn,” he replied. 
 
 Oh? You have seen photographs of her? ” she in- 
 quired casually. 
 
 What has become of her? ” he asked, ignoring her 
 question. Is she still on the stage? ” 
 
 Heaven knows,” she replied lightly. Miss Cas- 
 tleton and I were speaking of her last night. We were 
 together the last time I saw her. Who knows? She 
 may have married into the nobility by this time. She 
 was a very poor actress, but the loveliest thing in the 
 world — excepting our Hetty, of course.” 
 
 If he could have seen the troubled look in her eyes 
 as she was whirled off to the village, he might not have 
 gone about the cottage with such a blithesome air. He 
 was happier than he had been in days, and all because 
 of Hetty Glynn! 
 
 Leslie Wrandall did not arrive by the evening train. 
 He telephoned late in the afternoon, not to Hetty but 
 to Sara, to say that he was unavoidably detained and 
 would not leave New York until the next morning. 
 
THE GHOST AT THE FEAST 
 
 173 
 
 Something in his voice, in his manner of speaking, dis- 
 turbed her. She went to bed that night with two 
 sources of uneasiness threatening her peace of mind. 
 She scented peril. 
 
 The motor met him at the station and Sara was 
 v/aiting for him in the cool, awning-covered verandah as 
 he drove up. There was a sullen, dissatisfied look in 
 his face. She was stretched out comfortably, lazily, 
 in a great chaise-longue, her black little slippers peep- 
 ing out at him with perfect abandonment. 
 
 Hello,’’ he said shortly. She gave him her hand, 
 ic Sorry I couldn’t get out last night.” He shook her 
 hand rather ungraciously. 
 
 We missed you,” she said. Pull up a chair. I 
 was never so lazy as now. Dear me, I am afraid I’ll 
 get stout and gross.” 
 
 Spring fever,” he announced. He was plainly out 
 of sorts. I’ll stand, if you don’t mind. Beastly 
 tiresome, sitting in a hot, stuffy train.” 
 
 He took a couple of turns across the porch, his eyes 
 shifting in the eager, annoyed manner of one who seeks 
 for something that, in the correct order of things, ought 
 to be plainly visible. 
 
 Please sit down, Leslie. You make me nervous, 
 tramping about like that. We can’t go in for half an 
 hour or more.” 
 
 Can’t go in? ” he demanded, stopping before her. 
 He began to pull at his little moustache. 
 
 No. Hetty’s posing. They won’t permit even me 
 to disturb them.” 
 
 He glared. With a final^ almost dramatic twist he 
 gave over jerking at his moustache, and grabbed up a 
 chair, which he put down beside her with a vehemence 
 that spoke plainer than words. 
 
174 < 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 I he began, scowling in the direction of the 
 
 doorway, how long is he going to be at this silly 
 job? ’’ 
 
 Silly job? Why, it is to be a masterpiece,” she 
 cried. 
 
 I asked you how long? ” 
 
 “ Oh, how can I tell? Weeks, perhaps. One can’t 
 prod a genius.” 
 
 It’s all tommy-rot,” he growled. “ I suppose I’d 
 better take the next train back to town.” 
 
 Don’t you like talking with me ? ” she inquired, with 
 a pout. 
 
 Of course I do,” he made haste to say. But do 
 you mean to say they won’t let anybody in where — 
 Oh, I say! This is rich! ” 
 
 Spectators upset the muse, or words to that ef- 
 fect.” 
 
 He stared gloomily at his cigarette case for* a mo- 
 ment. Then he carefully selected a cigarette and 
 tapped it on the back of his hand. 
 
 See here, Sara, I’m going to get this off my chest,” 
 he said bluntly. I’ve been thinking it over all week. 
 I don’t like this portrait painting nonsense.” 
 
 Dear me ! Didn’t you suggest it ? ” she inquired 
 innocently, but all the time her heart was beating vio- 
 lent time to the song of triumph. 
 
 He was jealous. It was what she wanted, what she 
 had hoped for all along. Her purpose now was to en- 
 courage the ugly flame that tortured him, to fan it into 
 fury, to make it unendurable. She knew him well: his 
 supreme egoism could not withstand an attack upon its 
 complacency. Like all the Wrandalls, he had the habit 
 of thinking too well of himself. He possessed a clearly- 
 defined sense of humour, but it did not begin to include 
 
THE GHOST AT THE FEAST 
 
 175 
 
 self-sacrifice among its endowments. He had never 
 been able to laugh at himself for the excellent reason 
 that some things were truly sacred to him. 
 
 She realised this, and promptly laughed at him. He 
 stiffened. 
 
 “ Don’t snicker, Sara,” he growled. He took time 
 to light his cigarette, and at the same time to consider 
 his answer to her question. In a way, yes. I sug- 
 gested a sort of portrait, of course. A sketchy thing, 
 something like that, you know. But not an all-summer 
 operation.” 
 
 But she doesn’t mind,” explained Sara. In fact, 
 she is enjoying it. She and Mr. Booth get on famously 
 together.” 
 
 She likes him, eh? ” 
 
 Certainly. Why shouldn’t she like him? He is 
 adorable.” 
 
 He threw his cigarette over the railing. Comes 
 here every day, I suppose ? ” 
 
 My dear Leslie, he is to do me as soon as he has 
 finished with her. I don’t like your manner.” 
 
 Oh,” he said in a dull sort of wonder. No one 
 had ever cut him short in just that way before. 
 
 What’s up, Sara? Have I done anything out of the 
 way ? ” 
 
 You are very touchy, it seems to me.” 
 
 I’m sore about this confounded portrait mo- 
 nopoly.” 
 
 “ I’m sorry, Leslie. I suppose you will have to give 
 in, however. We are three to one against you, — 
 Hetty, Mr. Booth and I.” 
 
 “ I see,” he said, rather blankly. Then he drew his 
 chair closer. See here, Sara, you know I’m terribly 
 keen about her. I think about her, I dream about her. 
 
176 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 I — oh, well, here it is in a nutshell : I’m in love with 
 her. Now do you understand? ” 
 
 I don’t see how you could help being in love with 
 her,” she said calmly. “ I believe it is a habit men 
 have where she is concerned.” 
 
 You’re not surprised? ” he cried, himself surprised. 
 
 Not in the least.” 
 
 I mean to ask her to marry me,” he announced with 
 finality. This was intended to bowl her over com- 
 pletely. 
 
 She looked at him for an instant, and then shook her 
 head. I’d like to be able to wish you good luck.” 
 
 He stared. You don’t mean to say she’d be fool 
 enough — ” he began incredulously, but caught himself 
 up in time. Of course, I’d have to take my chances,” 
 he concluded, with more humility than she had ever seen 
 him display. Do you know of any one else? ” 
 
 No,” she said seriously. She doesn’t confide in 
 me to that extent, I fear. I’ve never asked.” 
 
 Do you think there was any one back there in Eng- 
 land? ” He put it in the past tense, so to speak, as if 
 there could be no question about the present. 
 
 Oh, I dare say.” 
 
 He was regaining his complacency. That’s neither 
 here nor there,” he declared. The thing I want you 
 to do, Sara, is to rush this confounded portrait. I 
 don’t like the idea, not a little bit.” 
 
 I don’t blame you for being afraid of the attractive 
 Mr. Booth,” she said, with a significant lifting of her 
 eyebrows. 
 
 I’m going to have it over with before I go up to 
 town, my dear girl,” he announced, in a matter-of-fact 
 way. I’ve given the whole situation a deuce of a lot 
 of thought, and I’ve made up my mind to do it. I’m 
 
THE GHOST AT THE FEAST 
 
 177 
 
 not the sort, you know, to delay matters once my mind’s 
 made up. By Jove, Sara, yow ought to be pleased. 
 I’m not such a rotten catch, if I do say it who 
 shouldn’t.” 
 
 She was perfectly still for a long time, so still that 
 she did not appear to be breathing. Her eyes grew 
 darker, more mysterious. If he had taken the pains to 
 notice, he would have seen that her fingers were rigid. 
 
 I am pleased,” she said, very softly, even gently. 
 
 She could have shrieked the words. 
 
 He showed no elation. Why should he? He took 
 it as a matter of course. Settling back in his chair, 
 he lit another cigarette, first offering the case to her, 
 but she shook her head. Then he lapsed into a satis- 
 fied discussion of the situation as it appeared to him. 
 All the while she was regarding him with a thoroughly 
 aroused light in her dark eyes. She was breathing 
 quickly again, and there were moments when she felt a 
 shudder rush through her veins, as of exquisite excite- 
 ment. 
 
 How she hated all these smug Wrandalls ! 
 
 I came to the decision yesterday,” he went on, tap- 
 ping the arm of the chair with his finger tips, as if tim- 
 ing his words with care and precision. Spoke to dad 
 about it at lunch. I was for coming out on the five 
 o’clock, as I’d planned, but he seemed to think I’d better 
 talk it over with the mater first. Not that she would 
 be likely to kick up a row, you know, but — well, for 
 policy’s sake. See what I mean? Decent thing to do, 
 you know. She never quite got over the way you and 
 Chal stole a march on her. God knows I’m not like 
 Chal.” 
 
 Her eyes narrowed again. No,’^ she said, you 
 are not like your brother.” 
 
178 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Chal was all right, mind you, in what he did,” he 
 added hastily, noting the look. I would do the same, 
 ’pon my soul I would, if there were any senseless objec- 
 tions raised in my case. But, of course, it was right 
 for me to talk it over with her, just the same. So I 
 stayed in and gave them all the chance to say what they 
 thought of me — and, incidentally, of Hetty. Quite 
 the decent thing, don’t you think? A fellow’s mother 
 is his mother, after all. See what I mean?” 
 
 And she was appeased? ” she said, in a dangerously 
 satirical tone. 
 
 Hardly the word, old girl, but we’ll let it stand. 
 She was appeased. Wanted to be sure, of course, if 
 I knew my own mind, and all that. Just as if I didn’t ! 
 Ha! Ha! I was considerate enough to ask her if she 
 was satisfied I wasn’t marrying beneath the family dig- 
 nity. ’Gad, she got off a rather neat one at that. 
 Said I might marry under the family tree if I felt like 
 it. Rather good, eh, for mother? I said I preferred 
 a church. Nothing al fresco for me.” 
 
 She is quite satisfied, then, that you are not throw- 
 ing yourself away on Miss Castleton,” said Sara, with 
 a deep breath, which he mistook for a sigh. 
 
 Oh, trust mother to nose into things. She knows 
 Miss Castleton’s pedigree from the ground up. There’s 
 Debrett, you see. What’s more, you can’t fool her in 
 a pinch. She knows blood when she sees it. Father 
 hasn’t the same sense of proportion, however. He says 
 you never can tell.” 
 
 Sara was startled. What do you mean? ” 
 
 Oh, it’s nothing to speak of ; only a way he has of 
 grinding mother once in a while. He uses you as an 
 example to prove that you never can tell, and mother 
 has to admit that he’s right. You have upset every 
 
THE GHOST AT THE FEAST 179 
 
 one of her pet theories. She sees it now, but — whew ! 
 She couldn’t see it in the old days, could she? ” 
 
 I fear not,” said she in a low voice. Her eyes 
 smouldered. It is quite natural that she should not 
 want you to make the mistake your brother made.” 
 
 Oh, please don’t put it that way, Sara. You make 
 me feel like a confounded prig, because that’s what it 
 comes to, with them, don’t you know. And yet my at- 
 titude has always been clear to them where you’re con- 
 cerned. I was strong for you from the beginning. All 
 that silly rot about — ” 
 
 Please, please ! ” she burst out, quivering all over. 
 
 I beg your pardon,” he stammered. You — you 
 know how I mean it, dear girl.” 
 
 Please leave me out of it, Leslie,” she said, collect- 
 ing herself. After a moment she went on calmly : 
 
 And so you are going to marry my poor little Hetty, 
 and they are all pleased with the arrangement.” 
 
 If she’ll have me,” he said with a wink, as if to say 
 there wasn’t any use doubting it. They’re tickled to 
 death.” 
 
 Vivian?” 
 
 Viv’s a snob. She says Hetty’s rnucH too good 
 for me, blood and bone. What business, says she, has 
 a Wrandall aspiring to the descendant of Henry the 
 Eighth.” 
 
 “ What ! ” 
 
 The Murgatroyds go back to old Henry, straight 
 as a plummet. ’Gad, what Vivvy doesn’t know about 
 British aristocracy isn’t worth knowing. She looked 
 it up the time they tried to convince her she ought to 
 marry the duke. But she’s fond of Pletty. She says 
 she’s a darling. She’s right: Hetty is too good for 
 me.” 
 
180 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Sara swished her gown about and rose gracefully 
 from the chaise-longue. Extending her hand to him she 
 said, and he was never to forget the deep thrill in her 
 voice : 
 
 “ Well, I wish you good luck, Leslie. Don’t take no 
 for an answer.” 
 
 “ Lord, if she should say no,” he gasped, confronted 
 by the possibility of such stupidity on Hetty’s part. 
 
 You don’t think she will? ” 
 
 Her answer was a smile of doubt, the effect of which 
 was to destroy his tranquillity for hours. 
 
 It is time for luncheon. I suppose we’ll have to 
 interrupt them. Perhaps it is just as well, for your 
 sake,” she said tauntingly. 
 
 He grinned, but it was a sickly effort. 
 
 You’re the one to spoil anything of that sort,” he 
 said, with some ascerbity. 
 
 jp 
 
 Certainly,” he said with so much meaning in the 
 word that she flushed. 
 
 Oh, I see,” she mused, with understanding. Can’t 
 you trust Vivian to do that for you? ” There was in- 
 tense irony in the question. 
 
 He laughed disdainfully. Viwy wouldn’t stand 
 a ghost of a chance with you, take it from me.” He 
 stopped abruptly at the doorway, a frown of recollec- 
 tion creasing his seamless brow. Oh, that reminds 
 me, there is something else I want to discuss with you, 
 Sara. After luncheon will be time enough. Remind 
 me of it, will you? ” 
 
 Not if it is to be unpleasant,” she replied, with a 
 sudden chill in her heart. 
 
 It’s this, in a word : Viv would like to have Miss 
 Castleton over to spend a month or so with her after 
 
THE GHOST AT THE FEAST 181 
 
 the — well, after the house is open.’^ He came near 
 to saying after the engagement was announced. 
 
 Sara’s decision was made at once. Her face hard- 
 ened. 
 
 That is quite out of the question, Leslie,” she said. 
 
 We can discuss it, can’t we? ” he demanded loftily. 
 She did not condescend to reply. They were now in 
 the wide hallway, and she was a step or two ahead of 
 him. Voices could be heard in the recess at the lower 
 end of the hall, beyond the staircase, engaged in what 
 appeared to be a merry exchange of opinions. He 
 caught the sound of a low laugh from Booth. There 
 was something acutely subdued about it, as if a warn- 
 ing had been whispered by some one. Leslie’s sensitive 
 imagination pictured the unseen girl with her finger to 
 her lips. 
 
 He caught up with Sara, and, curiously red in the 
 face, snapped out with dogged insistence : 
 
 Mother is set on having her come, Sara. Can’t 
 you see the way the land lays ? They — ” 
 
 Hetty and Booth came into view at that instant, and 
 his lips were closed. The painter was laying a soft, 
 filmy scarf over the girl’s bare shoulders as he followed 
 close behind her. 
 
 Hello ! ” he cried, catching sight of Wrandall. 
 Train late, old cha-p? We’ve been expecting you for 
 the last hour. How are you ? ” 
 
 He came up with a frank, genuine smile of pleasure 
 on his lips, his hand extended. Leslie rose to the occa- 
 sion. His self-esteem was larger than his grievance. 
 He shook Booth’s hand heartily, almost exuberantly. 
 
 Didn’t want to disturb you. Brandy,” he cried, 
 cheerily. Besides, Sara wouldn’t let me.” He then 
 passed on to Hetty, who had lagged behind. Bending 
 
182 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 low over her hand, he said something commonplace in 
 a very low tone, at the same time looking slyly out of 
 the corner of his eye to see if Booth was taking it all in. 
 Finding that his friend was regarding him rather fix- 
 edly, he obeyed a sudden impulse and raised the girl’s 
 slim hand to his lips. As suddenly he released her 
 fingers and straightened up with a look of surprise in 
 his eyes ; he had distinctly heard the agitated catch in 
 her throat. She was staring at her hand in a stupefied 
 sort of way, holding it rigid before her eyes for a mo- 
 ment before thrusting it behind her back as if it were 
 a thing to be shielded from all scrutiny save her own. 
 
 You must not kiss it again, Mr. Wrandall,” she 
 said in a low, intense voice. Then she passed him by 
 and hurried up the stairs, without so much as a glance 
 over her shoulder. 
 
 He blinked in astonishment. All of a sudden there 
 swept over him the unique sensation of shyness — most 
 unique in him. He had never been abashed before in all 
 his life. Now he was curiously conscious of having 
 overstepped the bounds, and for the first time to be 
 shown his place by a girl. This to him, who had no 
 scruples about boundary lines ! 
 
 All through luncheon he was volatile and gay. 
 There was a bright spot in his cheek, however, that be- 
 trayed him to Sara, v^ho already suspected the temper 
 of his thoughts. He talked aeroplaning without ces- 
 sation, directing most of his conversation to Booth, yet 
 thrilled with pleasure each time Hetty laughed at his 
 sallies. He was beginning to feel like a half-baked 
 schoolboy in her presence, a most deplorable state of 
 affairs he had to admit. 
 
 If you hate the trains so much, and your automo- 
 bile is out of whack, why don’t you try volplaning down 
 
THE GHOST AT THE FEAST 
 
 183 
 
 from the Metropolitan tower? ” demanded Booth in re- 
 sponse to his lugubrious wail against the beastly luck 
 of having to go about in railway coaches with a lot of 
 red-eyed, nose-blowing people who hadn’t got used to 
 their spring underwear as yet. 
 
 “ Sinister suggestion, I must say,” he exclaimed. 
 
 You must be eager to see my life blood scattered all 
 over creation. But, speaking of volplaning. I’ve had 
 three lessons this week. Next week Bronson says I’ll 
 be flying like a gull. ’Gad, it’s wonderful. I’ve had 
 two tumbles, that’s all, — little ones, of course, — net 
 result a barked knee and a peeled elbow.” 
 
 Watch out you’re not flying like an angel before 
 you get through with it, Les,” cautioned the painter. 
 
 I see that a well-known society leader in Chicago was 
 killed yesterday.” 
 
 Oh, I love the danger there is in it,” said Wrandall 
 carelessly. That’s what gives zest to the sport.” 
 
 I love it, too,” said Hetty, her eyes a-gleam. The 
 glorious feel of the wind as you rush through it ! And 
 yet one seems to be standing perfectly still in the air 
 when one is half a mile high and going fifty miles an 
 hour. Oh, it is wonderful, Mr. Wrandall.” 
 
 I’ll take you out in a week or two. Miss Castleton, 
 if you’ll trust yourself with me.” 
 
 I will go,” she announced promptly. 
 
 Booth frowned. Better wait a bit,” he counselled. 
 
 Risky business, Miss Castleton, flying about with 
 fledgelings.” 
 
 “Oh, come now I” expostulated Wrandall with some 
 heat. “ Don’t be a wet blanket, old man.” 
 
 “ I was merely suggesting she’d better wait till you’ye 
 got used to your wings.” 
 
 “ Jimmy Van Wickle took his wife with him the third 
 
184 ^ 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 time up,’’ said Leslie, as if that were the last word in 
 aeroplaning. 
 
 It’s common report that she keeps Jimmy level, no 
 matter where she’s got him,” retorted Booth. 
 
 I dare say Miss Castleton can hold me level,” said 
 Leslie, with a profound bow to her, Can’t you, Miss 
 Castleton? ” 
 
 She smiled. Oh, as for that, Mr. Wrandall, I 
 think we can all trust you to cling pretty closely to 
 your own level.” 
 
 Rather ambiguous, that,” he remarked dubiously. 
 
 She means you never get below it, Leslie,” said 
 Booth, enjoying himself. 
 
 That’s the one great principle in aeroplaning,” 
 said Wrandall, quick to recover. ^Wivian says I’ll 
 break my neck some day, but admits it will be a heroic 
 way of doing it. Much nobler than pitching out of an 
 automobile or catapulting over a horse’s head in Cen- 
 tral Park.” He paused for effect before venturing 
 his next conclusion. It must be ineffably sublime, 
 being squashed — or is it squshed.? — after a drop of a 
 mile or two, isn’t it? ” 
 
 He looked to see Miss Castleton wince, and was 
 somewhat dashed to find that she was looking out of the 
 window, quite oblivious to the peril he was in figura- 
 tively for her special consideration. 
 
 Booth was acutely reminded that the term prig ” 
 as applied to Leslie was a misnomer ; he hated the 
 thought of the other word, which reflectively he rhymed 
 with “ pad.” 
 
 It occurred to him early in the course of this rather 
 one-sided discussion that their hostess was making no 
 effort to take part in it, whether from lack of interest 
 or because of its frivolous nature he was, of course, un- 
 
THE GHOST AT THE FEAST 
 
 185 
 
 able to determine. Later, he was struck by the curious 
 pallor of her face, and the lack-lustre expression of 
 her eyes. She seldom removed her gaze from Wran- 
 dalPs face, and yet there persisted in the observer’s mind 
 the rather uncanny impression that she did not hear a 
 word her brother-in-law was saying. He, in turn, took 
 to watching her covertly. At no time did her expres- 
 sion change. For reasons of his own, he did not at- 
 tempt to draw her into the conversation, fascinated as 
 he was by the study of that beautiful, emotionless face. 
 Once he had the queer sensation of feeling, rather than 
 seeing, a haunted look in her eyes, but he put it down to 
 fancy on his part. Doubtless, he concluded, the face or 
 voice or manner of her husband’s brother recalled tragic 
 memories from which she could not disengage herself. 
 But undoubtedly there was something peculiar in the 
 way she looked at Leslie through those dull, unblinking 
 eyes. It was some time before Booth realised that she 
 made but the slightest pretence of touching the food 
 that was placed before her by the footman. 
 
 And Leslie babbled on in blissful ignorance of, not 
 to say disregard for, this strange ghost at the feast, 
 for, to Booth’s mind, the ghost of Challis Wrandall was 
 there. 
 
 Turning to Miss Castleton with a significant look in 
 his eyes, meant to call her attention to Mrs. Wrandall, 
 he was amazed to find that every vestige of colour had 
 gone from the girl’s face. She was listening to Wran- 
 dall and replying in monosyllables, but that she was 
 aware of the other woman’s abstraction was not for an 
 instant to be doubted. Suddenly, after a quick glance 
 at Sara’s face, she looked squarely into Booth’s eyes, 
 and he saw in hers an expression of actual concern, if 
 not alarm. 
 
186 
 
 THE HOLLOW UF HER HAND 
 
 Leslie was in the middle of a sentence when Sara 
 laughed aloud, without excuse or reason. The next 
 instant she was looking from one to the other in a dazed 
 sort of way, as if coming out of a dream. 
 
 Wrandall turned scarlet. There had been nothing 
 in his remarks to call for a laugh, he was quite sure of 
 that. Flushing slightly, she murmured something about 
 having thought of an amusing story, and begged him to 
 go on, she wouldn’t be rude again. 
 
 He had little zest for continuing the subject and sul- 
 lenly disposed of it in a word or two. 
 
 What the devil was there to laugh at, Brandy ? ” 
 he demanded of his friend after the women had left them 
 together on the porch a few minutes later. Hetty had 
 gone upstairs with Mrs. Wrandall, her arm clasped 
 tightly about the older woman’s waist. 
 
 “ I dare say she was thinking about you falling a 
 mile or two,” said Booth pleasantly. 
 
 But he was perplexed. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 MAN PROPOSES 
 
 The young men cooled their heels for an hour before 
 word was brought down to them that Mrs. Wrandall 
 begged to be excused for the afternoon on account of a 
 severe headache. Miss Castleton was with her, but 
 would be down later on. Meanwhile they were to make 
 themselves at home, and so on and so forth. 
 
 Booth took his departure, leaving Leslie in sole pos- 
 session of the porch. He was restless, nervous, excited ; 
 half-afraid to stay there and face Hetty with the pro- 
 posal he was determined to make, and wholly afraid to 
 forsake the porch and run the risk of missing her alto- 
 gether if she came down as signified. Several things 
 disturbed him. One was Hetty’s deplorable failure to 
 hang on his words as he had fondly expected her to do ; 
 and then there was that very disquieting laugh of 
 Sara’s. A hundred times over he repeated to himself 
 that sickening question : What the devil was there to 
 
 laugh at?” and no answer suggested itself. He was 
 decidedly cross about it. 
 
 Another hour passed. His heels were quite cool by 
 this time, but his blood was boiling. This was a deuce 
 of a way to treat a fellow who had gone to the trouble 
 to come all the way out in a stuffy train, by Jove, it 
 was ! With considerable asperity he rang for a servant 
 and commanded him to fetch a time table, and to be 
 quick about it, as there might be a train leaving before 
 he could get back if it took him as long to find it as it 
 took other people to remember their obligations ! His 
 sarcasm failed to impress Murray, who said he thought 
 
 187 
 
188 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 there was a schedule in Mrs. WrandalPs room, and he’d 
 get it as soon as the way was clear, if Mr. Wrandall 
 didn’t mind waiting. 
 
 If I minded waiting,” snapped Leslie, I wouldn’t 
 be here now.” 
 
 It’s the thing most people object to in the country, 
 sir,” said Murray consolingly. Waiting for trains, 
 sir.” 4 ,. 
 
 And the sunset,” added Mr. Wrandall pointedly, 
 with a westward glare. 
 
 We don’t mind that, sir. We rather look forward 
 to it. It means one day less of waiting for the trains.” 
 It was rather cryptic, but Leslie was too deeply ab- 
 sorbed in self-pity to take account of the pathos in 
 Murray’s philosophy. 
 
 What time is it, Murray? ” 
 
 Five- twenty, Mr. Wrandall.” 
 
 That’s all, Murray.” 
 
 Thank you, sir.” 
 
 As the footman was leaving, Sara’s automobile 
 whirled up to the porte-cochere. 
 
 Who is going out, Murray? ” he called in surprise. 
 
 Miss Castleton, sir. For the air, sir.” 
 
 The deuce you say ! ” gasped the harassed Mr. 
 Wrandall. It was a pretty kettle of fish! 
 
 Hetty appeared a few minutes later, attired for mo- 
 toring. 
 
 “ Oh, there you are,” she said, espying him. I am 
 going for a spin. Want to come along? ” 
 
 He swallowed hard. The ends of his moustache de- 
 scribed a pair of absolutely horizontal exclamation 
 points. If you don’t mind being encumbered,” he re- 
 marked sourly. 
 
 I don’t in the least mind,” said she sweetly. 
 
MAN PROPOSES 
 
 189 
 
 Where are you going? ’’ he asked without much en- 
 thusiasm. He wasn’t to be caught appearing eager, 
 not he. Besides, it wasn’t anything to be flippant 
 about. 
 
 Yonder,” she said, with a liberal sweep of her arm, 
 taking in the whole landscape. And be home in time 
 to dress for dinner,” she added, as if to relieve his 
 mind. 
 
 Good Lord!” he groaned, do we have to eat 
 again? ” 
 
 “ We have to dress for it, at least,” she replied. 
 
 I’ll go,” he exclaimed, and ambled off to secure a 
 cap and coat. 
 
 Sara has planned for a run to Lenox to-morrow if 
 it doesn’t rain,” she informed him on his return. 
 
 Oh,” he said, staring. Booth gets a day off on 
 the portrait then.” 
 
 Being Sunday,” she smiled. We knock off on 
 Sundays and bank holidays. But, after all, he doesn’t 
 really get a holiday. He is to go with us, poor fellow.” 
 
 He looked as though he expected nothing. He could 
 only sit back and wonder what the deuce Sara meant 
 by behaving like this. 
 
 It was not by way of being a profitable excursion, if 
 we are to judge by the amount of pleasure Leslie de- 
 rived from the two hours’ spin through the cool, leafy 
 byways of the forest with the object of his heart’s desire 
 on the seat beside him. He tried to screw up his cour- 
 age to the point of asking her why he shouldn’t kiss her 
 band, which might have opened the way to more pro- 
 found interrogations, but somehow he felt unable to 
 cope with the serenity that confronted him. Moreover, 
 he had a horrible conviction that the chauffeur was a 
 brute with abnormally long ears and a correspondingly 
 
190 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 short sense of honour. No, it was not the time or the 
 place for love-making. He would have to be content 
 to bide his time till after dinner, which now began to 
 lose some of its disadvantages. There was a most en- 
 gaging nook, he remembered, in the comer of the gar- 
 den facing the Sound, where the shadows were deep; 
 where sentiment could thrive on its own ecstasy ; where 
 no confounded menial dared to show his face — al- 
 though he had to admit that the chauffeur was most 
 punctilious in that respect. 
 
 And so he was satisfied to sit back in the corner of 
 the seat and feed his senses on the lovely creature be- 
 fore him. He had never seen her so beautiful, so ut- 
 terly worth having as now. He was conscious of a 
 great, overwhelming sense of pride, somewhat smother- 
 ing in its vastness. She was a creature to be proud of! 
 His heart was vorj full. 
 
 They returned at seven. Dinner was unusually 
 merry. Sara appeared to have recovered from her in- 
 disposition; there was colour in her cheeks and life in 
 her smile. He took it to be an omen of good fortune, 
 and was immeasurably confident. The soft cool breezes 
 of the star-lit night blew visions of impending happiness 
 across his lively imagination; fanned his impatience 
 with gentle ardour ; filled him with surpressed sighs of 
 contentment, and made him willing to forego the delight 
 of conquest that he might live the longer in serene an- 
 ticipation of its thrills. 
 
 Ten o’clock came. He arose and stretched himself 
 in a sort of ecstasy. His heart was thumping loudly, 
 his senses swam. Walking to the verandah rail he 
 looked out across the moonlit Sound, then down at the 
 selected nook over against the garden wall — spot to be 
 immortalised — and actually shivered. In ten minutes’ 
 
MAN PROPOSES 191 
 
 time, or even less, she would be down there in his arms ! 
 Exquisite meditations ! 
 
 He turned to her with an engaging smile, in which 
 she might have discerned a prophecy, and asked her to 
 come with him for a stroll along the wall. And so he 
 cast the die. 
 
 Hetty sent a swift, appealing look at Sara’s pur- 
 posely averted face. Leslie observed the act, but mis- 
 interpreted its meaning. 
 
 Oh, it is quite warm,” he said quickly. You 
 won’t need a wrap,” he added, and in spite of himself 
 his voice trembled. Of course she wouldn’t need a 
 wrap I 
 
 “ I have a few notes to write,” said Sara, rising. 
 She deliberately avoided the look in Hetty’s eyes. 
 
 You will find me in the library.” 
 
 She stood in the doorway and watched them descend 
 to the terrace, a sphinx-like smile on her lips. Hetty 
 seemed very tall and erect, as one going to meet a sol- 
 dier’s fate. 
 
 Then Sara entered the house and sat down to wait. 
 
 A long time after a door closed stealthily in a dis- 
 tant part of the house — the sun-parlour door, she knew 
 by direction. 
 
 A few minutes later an upstairs door creaked on 
 its hinges. Some one had come in from the mellow 
 night, and some one had been left outside. 
 
 Many minutes passed. She sat there at her father’s 
 writing table and waited for the other to come in. At 
 last quick, heavy footfalls sounded on the tiled floor 
 outside and then came swiftly down the hall toward the 
 small, remote room in which she sat. She looked up as 
 he unceremoniously burst into the room. 
 
 He came across and stood over her, an expression of 
 
192 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 utter bewilderment in his eyes. There was a ghastly 
 smile on his lips. 
 
 Damn it all, Sara,” he said shrilly, she — she 
 turned me down.” 
 
 He seemed incapable of comprehension. 
 
 She was unmoved. Her eyes narrowed, but that was 
 the only sign of emotion. 
 
 I — I can’t believe — ” he began querulously. 
 
 Oh, what’s the use? She won’t have me. ’Gad ! I’m 
 trembling like a leaf. Where’s Watson? Have him 
 get me something to drink. Never mind! I’ll get it 
 from the sideboard. I’m — I’m damned ! ” 
 
 He dropped heavily into a chair at the end of the 
 table and looked at her with glazed eyes. As she stared 
 back at him she had the curious feeling that he had 
 shrunk perceptibly, that his clothes hung rather limply 
 on him. His face seemd to have lost all of its smart 
 symmetry; there was a looseness about the mouth and 
 chin that had never been there before. The saucy, ar- 
 rogant moustache sloped dejectedly. 
 
 I fancy you must have gone about it very badly,” 
 she said, pursing her lips. 
 
 Badly?” he gasped. Why — why, good heav- 
 ens, Sara, I actually pleaded with her,” he went on, 
 quite pathetically. All but got down on my knees 
 to her. Damn me, if I can understand myself doing it 
 either. I must have lost my head completely. Begged 
 like a love-sick school-boy! And she kept on saying 
 no — no — no ! And I, like a blithering ass, kept on 
 telling her I couldn’t live without her, that I’d make her 
 happy, that she didn’t know what she was saying, and 
 — But, good Lord, she kept on saying no! Nothing 
 but no ! Do — do you think she meant to say no ? 
 Could it have been hysteria? She said it so often, over 
 
MAN PROPOSES 193 
 
 and over again, that it might have been hysteria. I 
 never thought of that. I — ” 
 
 “ No, Leslie, it wasn’t hysteria, you may be sure of 
 that,” she said deliberately. She meant it, old fel- 
 low.” 
 
 He sagged deeper in the chair. 
 
 I — I can’t get it through my head,” he muttered. 
 
 ‘‘As I said before, you did it badly,” she said. 
 “ You took too much for granted. Isn’t that true? ” 
 
 “ God knows I didn’t expect her to refuse me,” he 
 exclaimed, glaring at her. “ Would I have been such 
 a fool as to ask her if I thought there was the remotest 
 chance of being — ” The very thought of the word 
 caused it to stick in his throat. He swallowed hard. 
 
 “ You really love her? ” she demanded. 
 
 “Love her?” There was a sob in his voice. “I 
 adore her, Sara. I can’t live without her. And the 
 worst of it is, I love her now more than I did before. 
 Oh, it’s appalling! It’s horrible! What am I to do, 
 Sara? What am I to do? ” 
 
 “ Be a man for a little while, that’s all,” she said 
 coolly. 
 
 “ Don’t j oke with me,” he groaned. 
 
 “ Go to bed, and when you see her in the morning tell 
 her that you understand. Thank her for what she has 
 done for you. Be — ” 
 
 “ Thank her ? ” he almost shouted. 
 
 “ Yes ; for destroying all that is detestable in you, 
 Leslie, — your self-conceit, your arrogance, your false 
 notions concerning yourself, — in a word, your ego-, 
 tism.” 
 
 He blinked incredulously. “ Do you know what 
 you’re saying? ” he gasped. 
 
 She went on as if she hadn’t heard him. 
 
194 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 “ Assure her that she is to feel no compunction for 
 what she has done, that you are content to be her loyal, 
 devoted friend to the end of your days.” 
 
 But, hang it, Sara, I love her ! ” 
 
 Don’t let her suspect that you are humiliated. On 
 the contrary, give her to understand that you are 
 cleansed and glorified.” 
 
 ^^What utter tommy — ” 
 
 ^^Wait! Believe me, it is your only chance. You 
 will have to learn some time that you can’t ride rough- 
 shod among angels. Think it over, old fellow. You 
 have had a good lesson. Profit by it.” 
 
 You mean I’m to sit down and twirl my thumbs and 
 let some other chap snap her up under my very nose? 
 Well, I guess not ! ” 
 
 Not necessarily. If you take it manfully, she may 
 discover a new interest in you. Don’t breathe a word of 
 love to her. Go on as if nothing had happened. Don’t 
 forget that I told you in the beginning not to take no 
 for an answer.” 
 
 He drooped once more, biting his lip. I don’t see 
 how I can ever tell mother that she refused — ” 
 
 Why tell her ? ” she inquired, rising. 
 
 His eyes brightened. By Jove, I shan’t,” he ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 I am going up to the poor child now,” she went on. 
 
 I dare say you have frightened her almost to death. 
 Naturally she is in great distress. I shall try to con- 
 vince her that her decision does not alter her position 
 in this house. I depend on you to do your part, Les- 
 lie. Make it easy for her to stay on with me.” 
 
 He mellowed to the verge of tears. 
 
 I can’t keep on coming out here after this, as I’ve 
 been doing, Sara.” 
 
MAN PROPOSES 195 
 
 Don’t be silly ! Of course you can. This will 
 blow over.” 
 
 Blow over? ” he almost gasped. 
 
 “I mean the first effects. Try being a martyr for 
 a while, Leslie. It isn’t a bad plan, I can assure you. 
 It may interest you to know that Challis proposed to me 
 three times before I accepted him, and yet I — I loved 
 him from the beginning.” 
 
 By Jove ! ” he exclaimed, coming to his feet with a 
 new light in his eyes. The hollows in his cheeks seemed 
 to fill out perceptibly. 
 
 Good-night ! ” 
 
 “ I say, Sara dear, you’ll — - you’ll help me a bit, 
 won’t you ? I mean, you’ll talk it over with her and — ” 
 
 My sympathy is entirely with Miss Castleton,” she 
 said from the doorway. His jaw dropped. 
 
 He was still ruminating over the callousness of the 
 world in respect to lovers when she mounted the stairs 
 and tapped firmly on Hetty’s door. 
 
 His hopes began to revive. A new thought had en- 
 tered in and lodged securely among them, bracing them 
 up amazingly. By Jove,” he said to himself, staring 
 hard at the floor, I dare say I did go about it badly. 
 Sara was clever enough to see it. I must have taken 
 her off her feet with my confounded earnestness. Girls 
 do lose their heads, bless ’em, if you go at them with a 
 rush. I’m sure she’ll look at it differently when she’s 
 had time to compose herself.” He was perplexed, how- 
 ever, over something he had not revealed to Sara, and 
 his sudden frown proved that it was still disturbing him. 
 
 I can’t for the life of me understand why she should 
 have been so damned horrified at the idea.” 
 
 He started for the dining-room, recalling his need 
 of a drink, but changed his mind in the hall. Grabbing 
 
196 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 up his hat and stick, he darted out of the house and 
 was soon swinging briskly down the moonlit avenue. 
 He had come to the conclusion that a long walk would 
 prove settling ; and moreover it wasn’t a stupid idea to 
 go over and have his drink with Brandon Booth. The 
 longer he walked, the more springy his stride. Sara 
 was quite right ; he had gone about it badly. He’d go 
 about it differ entlj^ next time. 
 
 Half way to Booth’s cottage his pace slackened. A 
 disconcerting thought struck him, almost like a dash of 
 cold water in the face: Was she in love with Booth? 
 He sat down on the rugged stone fence to ponder. A 
 cold perspiration broke out all over him. When he 
 next resumed his walk, his back was towards Booth’s 
 cottage. He attributed the perspiration to the vio- 
 lence of his exercise. 
 
 Hetty Castleton was standing in the middle of her 
 room when Sara entered. From her position, it was 
 evident that she had stopped short in her nervous, ex- 
 cited pacing of the floor. She was very pale but there 
 was a dogged, set expression about her mouth. 
 
 Come in, dear,” she said, in a manner that showed 
 she had been expecting the visit. Have you seen 
 him? ” 
 
 Sara closed the door, and then stood with her back 
 against it, regarding her agitated friend with serious, 
 compassionate eyes. 
 
 Yes. He is terribly upset. It was a blow to him, 
 Hetty.” 
 
 I am sorry for him, Sara. He was so dreadfully 
 in earnest. But, thank God, it is over ! ” She threw 
 back her head and breathed deeply. That horrible, 
 horrible nightmare is ended. I suppose it had to be. 
 
MAN PROPOSES 197 
 
 But the mockery of it — think of it, Sara ! — the damn- 
 able mockery of it ! ” 
 
 Poor Leslie ! ” sighed the other. Poor old Leslie.” 
 
 Hetty’s eyes filled with tears. Oh, I am sorry for 
 him. He didn’t deserve it. God in heaven, if he really 
 knew everything! If he knew why I could not listen 
 to him, why I almost screamed when he held my hands 
 in his and begged — actually begged me to — Oh, it 
 was ghastly, Sara 1 ” 
 
 She covered her face with her hands, and swayed as 
 if about to fall. Sara came quickly to her side. Put- 
 ting an arm about the quivering shoulders, she led the 
 girl to the broad window seat and threw open the 
 blinds. 
 
 Don’t speak of it, dearest, — don’t think of that. 
 Sit here quietly in the air and pull yourself together. 
 Let me talk to you. Let me tell you how deeply dis- 
 tressed I am, not only on your account, but his.” 
 
 They were silent for a long time, the girl lying still 
 and almost breathless against the other’s shoulders. She 
 was still wearing the delicate blue dinner gown, but in 
 her fingers was the exquisite pearl necklace Sara had 
 given her for Christmas. She had taken it off and had 
 forgotten to drop it in her jewel box. 
 
 I suppose he will go up to the city early,” she said 
 monotonously. 
 
 Leslie is a better loser than you think, my dear,” 
 said Sara, looking out over the tops of the cedars. 
 
 He will not run away.” 
 
 Hetty looked up in alarm. You mean he will per- 
 sist in — in his attentions,” she cried. 
 
 Oh, no. I don’t believe you will find him to be the 
 bugbear you imagine. He can take defeat like a man. 
 He is devoted to you, he is devoted to me. Your de- 
 
198 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 cision no doubt wrecks his fondest hope in life, but it 
 doesn’t make a weakling of him.” 
 
 I don’t quite understand — ” 
 
 He is sustained by the belief that he has paid you 
 the highest honour a man can pay to a woman. There 
 is no reason why he should turn his back on you, as a 
 sulky boy might do. No, my dear, I think you may 
 count on him as your best, most loyal friend from this 
 night on. He has just said to me that his greatest 
 pain lies in the fear that you may not be willing to ac- 
 cept him as a simple, honest, unpresuming friend 
 since — ” 
 
 Oh, Sara, if he will only be that and nothing more ! ” 
 cried the girl wonderingly. 
 
 Sara smiled confidently. I fancy you haven’t much 
 to fear in that direction, my dear. It isn’t in Leslie 
 Wrandall’s make-up to court a second repulse. He is 
 all pride. The blow it suffered to-night can’t be re- 
 peated — at least, not by the same person.” 
 
 I am so sorry it had to be Leslie,” murmured Hetty. 
 
 Be nice to him, Hetty. He deserves that much of 
 you, to say the least. I should miss him if he found 
 it impossible to come here on account of — ” 
 
 I wouldn’t have that happen for the world,” cried 
 the girl in distress. He is your dearest friend. Send 
 me away, Sara, if you must. Don’t let anything stand 
 in the way of your friendship for Leslie. You depend 
 on him for so much, dear. I can’t bear the thought 
 of—” 
 
 ^^Hush, dearest! You are first in my love. Better 
 for me to lose all the others and still have you.” 
 
 The girl looked at her in wonder for a long time. 
 
 Oh, I know you mean it, Sara, but — but how can it 
 be true ? ” 
 
MAN PROPOSES 
 
 199 
 
 Put youi’self in my place,” was all that Sara said 
 in reply, and her companion had no means of translat- 
 ing the sentence. 
 
 She could only remain mute and wondering, her eyes 
 fixed on that other mystery: the cameo face in the 
 moon that hung high above the sombre forest. 
 
 If it were not for the trip to Lenox,” she murmured 
 plaintively. 
 
 The trip is off,” announced Sara. She too was 
 staring at the cloudless sky. There will be rain to- 
 morrow.” 
 
 It is very clear to-night, Sara.” 
 
 Do you hear that little wail in the trees — as if 
 a child were whimpering out there ? That is the plaint 
 of the fairies who live in the buds and twigs, in the 
 flower cups and mosses. They famish, their gods will 
 hear. Their gods hear when ours is deaf. You will 
 see. There will be clouds over us to-morrow and we 
 will breathe the mist,” 
 
 The girl shivered. 
 
 Many minutes afterward she said, as one who mar- 
 vels : I hear the promise in the wind, Sara, — the new, 
 cool wind.” 
 
 The gods are whispering. Soon the fairies and 
 elves will come forth to revel. Ah, what a wonderful 
 thing the night is ! ” 
 
 The fairies,” mused the girl. You believe in 
 them?” 
 
 Resolutely.” 
 
 And I too.” 
 
 ^^We will never grow old, my dear,” said Sara. 
 
 That is what the fairies are for : to keep those who 
 love them young.” 
 
 Hetty had relaxed. Her soft young body was warm 
 
200 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 again ; that ineffably feminine charm was revived in her. 
 Poor Leslie,” murmured Sara, a long time after- 
 ward, a dreamy note in her voice. I can’t put him 
 out of my thoughts. He will never get over it. I have 
 never seen one so stricken and yet so brave. He would 
 have been more than a husband to you, Hetty. It is 
 in him to be a slave to the woman he loves. I know him 
 well, poor boy.” 
 
 Hetty was silent, brooding. Sara resumed her 
 thoughtful observations. 
 
 Why should you let what happened months ago 
 stand in the way of — ” 
 
 She got no farther than that. With an exclamation 
 of horror, the girl sprang away from her and glowered 
 at her with dilated eyes. 
 
 “ My God, Sara ! ” she whispered hoarsely. Are 
 you mad ? ” 
 
 The other sighed. I suppose you must think it of 
 me,” she said dismally. We are made differently, you 
 and 1. If I cared for a man, nothing in all this world 
 could stand between me and him. My love would for- 
 tify me against the enemy we are prone to call con- 
 science. It would justify me in slaying the thing we 
 call conscience. In your heart, Hetty, you have not 
 wronged Leslie Wrandall by any act of yours. You 
 owe him no reparation. On the contrary, it is not far 
 out of the way to say that he owes you something, but 
 of course it is a claim for recompense and resolves itself 
 into a sentimental debt, so there’s really no use discuss- 
 ing it.” 
 
 Hetty was still staring. You don’t mean to say 
 you would have me marry Challis Wrandall’s brother? ” 
 she said, in a sort of stupefaction. 
 
 Sara shook her head. I mean this : you would be 
 
MAN PROPOSES 
 
 201 
 
 justified in permitting Leslie to glorify that which his 
 brother desecrated; your womanhood, my dear.” 
 
 My God, Sara I ” again fell in a hoarse whisper from 
 the girl’s lips. 
 
 I simply voice my point of view,” explained Sara 
 calmly. As I said before, we look at things differ- 
 ently.” 
 
 I can’t believe you mean what you have said,” cried 
 Hetty. Why — why, if I loved him with all my heart, 
 soul and body I could not even think of — Oh, I shud- 
 der to think of it ! ” 
 
 I love you,” continued Sara, fixing her mysterious 
 eyes on those of the girl, “ and yet you took from me 
 something more than a brother. I love you, knowing 
 everything, and I am paying in full the debt he owes 
 to you. Leslie, knowing nothing, is no less your debtor. 
 All this is paradoxical, I know, my dear, but we must 
 remember that while other people may be indebted to 
 us, we also owe something to ourselves. We ought to 
 take pay from ourselves. Please do not conclude that 
 I am urging or even advising you to look with favour 
 upon Leslie Wrandall’s honourable, sincere proposal of 
 marriage. I am merely trying to convince you that 
 you are entitled to all that any man can give you in 
 this world of ours, — we women all are, for that mat- 
 ter.” 
 
 I was sure that you couldn’t ask me to marry him. 
 I couldn’t believe — ” 
 
 Forget what I have said, dearest, if it grieves you,” 
 cried Sara warmly. She arose and drew the girl close 
 to her. Kiss me, Hetty.” Their lips met. The 
 girl’s eyes were closed, but Sara’s were wide open and 
 gleaming. It is because I love you,” she said softly, 
 but she did not complete the sentence that burned in her 
 
202 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 brain. To herself she repeated : It is because I love 
 you that I would scourge you with Wrandalls ! ” 
 
 You are very good to me, Sara,’^ sobbed Hetty. 
 
 You will be nice to Leslie? ’’ 
 
 Yes, yes ! If he will only let me be his friend.’’ 
 
 He asks no more than that. Now, you must go to 
 bed.” 
 
 Suddenly, without warning, she held the girl tightly 
 in her arms. Her breathing was quick, as of one moved 
 by some sharp sensation of terror. When Hetty, in 
 no little wonder, opened her eyes Sara’s face was turned 
 away, and she was looking over her shoulder as if cause 
 for alarm had come from behind. 
 
 What is it? ” cried Hetty anxiously. 
 
 She saw the look of dread in her companion’s eyes, 
 even as it began to fade. 
 
 I don’t know,” muttered Sara. “ Something, I 
 can’t tell what, came over me. I thought some one was 
 stealing up behind me. How silly of me.” 
 
 Ah,” said Hetty, with an odd smile, I can under- 
 stand how you felt.” 
 
 “Hetty, will you take me in with you to-night?” 
 whispered Sara nervously. “ Let me sleep with you. I 
 can’t explain it, but I am afraid to be alone to-night.” 
 The girl’s answer was a glad smile of acquiescence. 
 “ Come with me, then, to my bedroom while I change. 
 I have the queerest feeling that some one is in my room. 
 I don’t want to be alone. Are you afraid? ” 
 
 Hetty held back, her face blanching. 
 
 “ No, I am not afraid,” she cried at once, and started 
 toward the door. 
 
 “ There is some one in this room,” said Sara a few 
 moments later, when they were in the big bedroom down 
 the hall. 
 
MAN PROPOSES 
 
 203 
 
 I — I wonder,” murmured Hetty. 
 
 And yet neither of them looked about in search for 
 the intruder! 
 
 Far into the night Sara sat in the window of Hetty’s 
 dressing-room, her chin sunk low in her hands, staring 
 moodily into the now opaque night, her eyes sombre and 
 unblinking, her body as motionless as death itself . The 
 cooling wind caressed her and whispered warnings into 
 her unheeding ears, but she sat there unprotected 
 against its chill, her night-dress damp with the mist 
 that crept up with sinister stealth from the sea. 
 
 In the flats below, a vast army of frogs shrilled in 
 ceaseless chatter ; night birds and insects responded to 
 the bedlam challenge; the hoarse monotonous grunts 
 of a fog-horn came up from the Sound. There were 
 people out there, asleep in passage. 
 
 A cat mewed piteously somewhere in the garden. 
 She was curiously disturbed by this. She hated cats* 
 There had never been one on the place before. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE APPKOACH OF A MAN NAMED SMITH 
 
 Me. Redmond Wrandale, grey and gaunt and some- 
 what wistful, rode slowly through the leafy lane, at- 
 tended some little distance behind by Griggs the groom, 
 who slumped in the saddle and thought only of the 
 sylvan dell to curse it with poetic license. (Ever since 
 Mr. Wrandall had been thrown by his horse in the Park 
 a few years before his wife had insisted on having a 
 groom handy in case he lost his seat again: hence 
 Griggs.) It sometimes got on Mr. Wrandall’s nerves, 
 having Griggs lopping along like that, but there didn’t 
 seem to be any way out of it, nor was there the re- 
 motest likelihood that the groom himself might one 
 day be spilled and broken in many places while engaged 
 in this obnoxious espionage. 
 
 Mr. Wrandall was grey because he was old, he was 
 gaunt because he was old, and he usually was somewhat 
 wistful for the same reason. He nourished the lament 
 that he had grown old before his time, despite the sixty 
 odd years that lay behind him. He was always a trifle 
 annoyed with himself for not having demanded more of 
 his youth. Griggs, therefore, was a physical insult, 
 any way you looked at him: his very presence in the 
 road behind was a blatant, house-top sort of proclama- 
 tion that he, Redmond Wrandall, was in his dotage, and 
 that was something Mr. Wrandall would never have 
 admitted if he had had anything to say about it. 
 
 To-day he was riding over to Southlook to visit his 
 daughter-in-law and one whom he looked upon as a 
 prospective daughter-in-law. It was Wednesday and 
 
 204 
 
THE APPROACH OF SMITH 
 
 205 
 
 the family had been in the country since Monday. His 
 wife and Vivian had motored over on Tuesday. They 
 were letting no grass grow under their feet, notwith- 
 standing a sudden and unexplained period of procras- 
 tination on the part of Leslie, who had gone off for a 
 fortnight’s fishing in Maine. Moreover, so far as they 
 knew, he had departed without proposing to Miss Castle- 
 ton : an oversight which deprived his mother of at least 
 two weeks of activity along obvious lines. Naturally, 
 it was quite impossible to discuss the future with Miss 
 Castleton under the circumstances, and it was equally 
 out of the question to discuss it with security in the 
 very constricted circle that Mrs. Wrandall affected in 
 the country. It really was too bad of Leslie! He 
 should have known better. 
 
 Half way to Southlook, Mr. Wrandall, turning a 
 bend in the road, caught sight of two people walking 
 some distance ahead : a man and a woman. They were 
 several hundred yards away, and travelling in the di- 
 rection he was going. He pulled his horse down to a 
 walk, a circumstance that for the moment escaped the 
 attention of Griggs, who rode alongside before he quite 
 realised what had happened. 
 
 Griggs,” said his master, staring at the pedestrians, 
 when did my son return?” 
 
 Griggs grasped the situation at a glance — a rather 
 vague and imperfect glance, however. This morn- 
 ing, sir,” he replied promptly, although he was as much 
 at sea as his master. 
 
 I understood Mrs. Wrandall to say he was not ex- 
 pected before Saturday.” 
 
 Yes, sir. He came unexpected, sir.” 
 
 Well,” said Mr. Wrandall, with an indulgent smile, 
 we will not ride them down.” 
 
206 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 No, indeed, sir,” consented Griggs, with a wink 
 that Mr. Wrandall did not see. 
 
 The pleased, satisfied smile grew on Redmond Wran- 
 dalPs gaunt old face: not reminiscent, I am bound to 
 say, yet reflective. 
 
 The tall young man and the girl far ahead apparently 
 were not aware of the scrutiny. They appeared to be 
 completely absorbed in each other. At last, coming to 
 a footpath diverging from the macadam, they stopped 
 and parleyed. Then they turned into this narrow, tor- 
 tuous path over the hillside and were lost to view. 
 
 Mr. WrandalFs smile broadened as he touched his 
 horse lightly with the crop. Coming to the obscure 
 little bypath, he shot a surreptitious glance into the 
 fastnesses of the wood, but did not slacken his speed. 
 No one was in sight. 
 
 I dare say the danger is past, Griggs,” he said 
 humorously. They are safe.” 
 
 I believe you, sir,” said Griggs, also forgetting him- 
 self so far as to steal a look over his right shoulder. 
 
 It was Mr. WrandalFs design to ride on to Southlook 
 and surprise Leslie and his inamorata at the lodge gates, 
 where he would wait for them. Arriving there, he dis- 
 mounted and turned his steed over to Griggs, with in- 
 structions to ride on. He would join Mr. Leslie and 
 Miss Castleton and walk with them for the remainder of 
 the distance. 
 
 He sat down on the rustic bench and lighted a cigar. 
 The lodge-keeper saluted him from the garden below. 
 Later the keeper’s small son came up and from the op- 
 posite side of the roadway regarded him with the wide, 
 curious gaze of a four-year-old. Mr. Wrandall disliked 
 children. He made no friendly overtures. The child 
 stood his ground, which was in a sense disconcerting, al- 
 
THE APPROACH OF SMITH 
 
 20T 
 
 thought he couldn’t tell why. He felt like saying 
 shoo ! ” Presently the keeper’s collie came up and 
 sniffed his puttees, all the while looking askance. Mr. 
 Wrandall said: Away with you,” and the dog retreated 
 with some dignity to the steps where he laid down and 
 fixed his eyes on the stranger. 
 
 Half-an-hour passed. Mr. Wrandall frowned as he 
 looked at his watch. Another quarter of an hour went 
 by. He changed his position, and the dog lifted his 
 head, without wagging his tail. 
 
 ’Pon my soul,” said Mr. Wrandall in some annoy- 
 ance. 
 
 Just then the dog and the child deflected their com- 
 mon stare. He was at first grateful^ then interested. 
 The child was beaming, the dog’s tail was thumping a 
 merry tattoo on the wooden step. Footsteps crunched 
 on the gravel and he turned to look, although it was not 
 the direction from which he expected his son and Miss 
 Castleton. 
 
 He came to his feet, plainly perplexed. Miss Castle- 
 ton approached, but the fellow beside her was not Leslie. 
 
 How are you, Mr. Wrandall? ” called out the young 
 man cheerily, crossing the road. 
 
 Good afternoon, Brandon,” said Mr. Wrandall, 
 nonplussed. How do you do. Miss Castleton ? De- 
 lighted to see you looking so well. ^ Where did you 
 leave my son? ” 
 
 Haven’t seen him,” said Booth. Is he back? ” 
 Mr. Redmond Wrandall swallowed hard. 
 
 I was so informed,” he replied, with an effort. 
 
 Are you not coming up to the house, Mr. Wran- 
 dall? ” inquired Miss Castleton, and he thought he de- 
 tected a note of appeal in her voice. 
 
 Certainly,” he announced, taking his place beside 
 
208 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 her. To himself he was saying: This young blade has 
 been annoying her, confound him.’’ 
 
 Miss Castleton had a note from Leslie this morn- 
 ing, saying he wouldn’t start home till Friday,” said 
 Booth, puzzled. You don’t mind my saying so. Miss 
 Castleton ? ” 
 
 Not at all. I am sure he said Friday.” 
 
 I fancy he did say Friday,” said Mr. WrandalL 
 I think Griggs had been drinking.” 
 
 Griggs ? ” inquired the two in unison. 
 
 He volunteered no more than that. He was too bus- 
 ily engaged in wondering what his son could be think- 
 ing of, to leave this delightful girl to the tender mercies 
 of a handsome, fascinating chap like Brandon Booth. 
 He didn’t relish the look of things. She was agitated, 
 suspiciously so ; and Booth wasn’t what one would de- 
 scribe as perfectly at ease. There was something in the 
 air, concluded Leslie’s father. 
 
 I hear you are coming over to spend a fortnight 
 with us. Miss Castleton,” said he pleasantly. 
 
 Hetty started. I beg your pardon, Mr. Wran- 
 dall,” she said, although he had spoken very distinctly. 
 
 Leslie mentioned it a — oh, some time ago, my 
 dear. This is the first time I have seen you, otherwise 
 I should have added my warmest appeal for you to 
 come early and to stay late. Ha-ha! Hope you will 
 find your way to our place, Brandon. You are al- 
 ways a most welcome visitor.” 
 
 The girl walked on in silence, her lips set with curi- 
 ous firmness. Booth looked at her and indulged in a 
 queer little smile, to which she responded with a painful 
 flush. 
 
 Vivian expects to have a few friends out at the 
 same time — very quietly, you know, and without much 
 
THE APPROACH OF SMITH 
 
 209 
 
 of a hurrah. Young ladies you ought to know in New 
 York, my dear Miss Castleton. I dare say you will 
 remember all of them, Brandon.” 
 
 I dare say,” said Booth, without interest. 
 
 I understand the portrait is finished,” went on the 
 old gentleman, blissfully oblivious to the disturbance he 
 had created. Mrs. Wrandall says it is wonderful, 
 Birandon. You won’t mind showing it to me.^ I am 
 very much interested.” 
 
 Glad to have you see it, sir.” 
 
 Thanks.” 
 
 He slackened his pace, an uneasy frown appearing be- 
 tween his eyes. 
 
 I am almost afraid to tell Sara the news we have 
 had from town this morning. She is so opposed to 
 notoriety and all that sort of thing. Poor girl, she’s 
 had enough to drive one mad, I fear, with all that 
 wretched business of a year ago.” 
 
 Hetty stopped in her tracks. She went very white. 
 
 What news, Mr. Wrandall? ” 
 
 They say they have stumbled upon a clew, — an ab- 
 solutely indisputable clew. Smith had me on the wire 
 this morning. He is the chief operative, you under- 
 stand, Miss Castleton. He informs me that his original 
 theory is quite fully substantiated by this recent dis- 
 covery. If you remember, he gave it as his opinion a 
 year ago that the woman was not — er — I may say, 
 of the class catalogued as fast. He is coming out to- 
 morrow to see me.” 
 
 Things went suddenly black before her eyes, but in 
 an instant she regained control of herself. 
 
 “ They have had many clews, Mr. Wrandall,” she 
 complained, shaking her head. 
 
 I know,” he replied ; and this one may be as futile 
 
210 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 as the rest. Smith appears to be absolutely certain this 
 time, however.” 
 
 I understood that Mrs. Wrandall — I mean Mrs. 
 Challis Wrandall — refused to offer a reward,” said 
 Booth. These big detective agencies are not keen 
 about — ” 
 
 There is a ten thousand dollar reward still stand- 
 ing, Brandon,” said Mr. Wrandall. 
 
 Again the girl started. 
 
 That isn’t generally known, sir,” observed the 
 painter. Leslie told me there was no reward.” 
 
 It was privately arranged,” explained Leslie’s 
 father. 
 
 They came in sight of the house at that moment, and 
 the subject was dropped, for Sara was approaching 
 them in earnest conversation with Mr. Carroll, her 
 lawyer. 
 
 They met at the edge of the lower basin, where the 
 waters trickled down from an imposing Italian foun- 
 tain on the level above, forming a deep, clear pool to 
 which the lofty sky lent unfathomable depths. To the 
 left of the basin there was a small tea-house, snug in 
 the shadow of the cypresses that lined the crest of the 
 hill. A series of rough stone steps wound down to the 
 water’s edge and the boathouse. 
 
 Mr. Carroll is the bearer of startling news, Mr. 
 Wrandall,” said Sara, after the greetings. There was 
 a trace of the sardonic in her voice. 
 
 Indeed? ” said Mr. Wrandall gravely. 
 
 I was not aware, sir,” said the old lawyer stiffly, 
 and with a positive glare, that your detectives were 
 such unmitigated asses as they now appear to be.” 
 
 I fail to understand, Mr. Carroll,” with consider- 
 able loftiness. 
 
THE APPROACH OF SMITH 211 
 
 That confounded rascal Smith called to see me this 
 morning, sir. He is a rogue, sir. He — ” 
 
 I beg your pardon, Mr, Carroll,’’ protested Mr. 
 Wrandall, in a far from conciliatory manner. 
 
 It seems, in short, that he has been working on a 
 very intimate clew,” said Saraj, staring fixedly at her 
 father-in-law’s face. 
 
 So he informed me over the ’phone this morn- 
 ing,” said he, rather taken a-back. However, he did 
 not go into the details. I am here, Sara, to tell you 
 that he is coming out to-morrow. I want to ask you to 
 come over to my place at — ” 
 
 That is out of the question, sir,” exclaimed Mr. 
 Carroll vehemently. 
 
 My dear Mr. Carroll — ” began Wrandall angrily, 
 but Sara interrupted him to suggest that they talk it 
 over in the tea-house. She would ring for tea. 
 
 If you will excuse me, Mrs. Wrandall, I think I will 
 be off,” said Booth. 
 
 Please stay, Mr. Booth,” she urged. I would 
 like to have you here.” 
 
 She fell behind with Hetty. The girl’s eyes were 
 glassy. 
 
 “ Don’t be alarmed,” she whispered. 
 
 Booth pressed the button for her. Thank you. 
 You will be surprised, Mr. Wrandall, to hear that the 
 new clew leads to a member of your own family.” 
 
 Mr. Wrandall was in the act of sitting down. At 
 her words he dropped. His eyes bulged. 
 
 Good God!” 
 
 It appears that Mr. Smith suspects — me! ” said 
 she coolly. 
 
 Her father-in-law’s lips moved, but no sound issued. 
 His face was livid. 
 
212 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 The stupid fool ! ’’ hissed the irate Mr. Carroll. 
 
 There was deathly silence for a moment following this 
 outburst. Every face was pale. In Hetty’s there was 
 an expression of utter horror. Her lips too were 
 moving. 
 
 “ He has, it seems, put one thing and another to- 
 gether, as if it were a picture puzzle,” went on Sara. 
 
 His visit to Mr. Carroll this morning was for the 
 purpose of ascertaining how much it would be worth 
 to me if he dropped the case — 
 
 The infernal blackmailer ! ” gasped Mr. Wrandall, 
 finding his voice. I will have him kicked off the place 
 if he comes to me with — My dear, my dear! You 
 cannot mean what you say.” 
 
 He was in a shocking state of bewilderment. 
 
 I’d advise you to call off your infernal blackmailer, 
 Mr. Redmond Wrandall,” snarled Mr. Carroll, pacing 
 back and forth. 
 
 My dear sir,” stammered the other, — I — do 
 you mean to imply that I know anything about this 
 infamous business?” 
 
 He is your dog, not ours,” declared the lawyer, 
 pacing the brick floor. 
 
 Peace, gentlemen,” admonished Sara. Let us dis- 
 cuss it calmly.” 
 
 Calmly? ” gasped Mr. Wrandall. 
 
 Calmly 1 ” snapped the lawyer. 
 
 At least deliberately. It appears, Mr. Wrandall, 
 that Smith has been working on the theory all along that 
 it was I who went to the inn with Challis. You re- 
 call the description given of the woman? She was of 
 my size and figure, they said at the time. Well, he 
 has — ” 
 
 It is infamous!” shouted Mr. Wrandall, spring- 
 
THE APPROACH OF SMITH 213 
 
 ing to his feet. He shall hear from me to-night. I 
 shall have him lodged in jail before — ” 
 
 You will do nothing of the sort,” interrupted Sara 
 firmly. I think you will do well to hear his side of 
 the story. And remember, sir, that it would be very 
 difficult for me to establish an alibi.” 
 
 Bless me ! ” groaned the old man. Then his eyes 
 brightened. But Miss Castleton can prove that for 
 you, my dear. Don’t forget Miss Castleton.” 
 
 Miss Castleton did not come to me, you should re- 
 member, until after the — the trouble. It occurred 
 the second night after my arrival from Europe. Mr. 
 Smith has discovered that I was not in my rooms at the 
 hotel that night.” 
 
 You were not?” fell from Mr. Wrandall’s lips. 
 
 Where were you?” 
 
 I spent the night in our apartment — alone.” She 
 shivered as with a chill as she uttered these words. 
 
 What!” 
 
 Leslie met me at the dock. He said that Challis 
 had gone away from town for a day or two. The next 
 day I telephoned to the garage and asked them to send 
 the big car to me as I wanted to make some 
 calls. They said that Mr. Wrandall had discharged 
 the chauffeur a week or two before and had been us- 
 ing my little French runabout for a few days, driving 
 it himself. I then instructed them to send the run- 
 about around with one of their own drivers. You can 
 imagine my surprise when I was told that Mr. Wran- 
 dall had taken the car out that morning and had not 
 returned with it.” 
 
 I see,” said Mr. Wrandall, beads of perspiration 
 standing on his forehead. 
 
 “ He had not left town. I will not try to describe 
 
214 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 my feelings. Late in the afternoon, I called them up 
 again. He had not returned. It was then that I 
 thought of going to the apartment, which had been 
 closed all winter. Watson and his wife were to go in 
 the next day by my instructions. Challis had been liv- 
 ing at a club, I believe. Somehow, I had the feeling 
 that during the night my husband would come to the 
 apartment — perhaps not alone. You understand. I 
 went there and waited all night. That is the story. Of 
 course, it is known that I did not spend the night at 
 the hotel. Mr. Smith evidently has learned as much. 
 It is on this circumstance that he bases his belief.^’ 
 Booth was leaning forward, breathless with inter- 
 est. 
 
 May I enquire, Mr. Carroll, how the clever Mr. 
 Smith accounts for the secrecy observed by Mr. Wran- 
 dall and his companion, if, as he proclaims, you were 
 the woman Is it probable that husband and wife 
 would have been so mysterious ? ” 
 
 Mr. Carroll answered. He is rather ingenious as 
 to that, Mr. Booth. You must understand that he does 
 not specifically charge my cli — Mrs. Wrandall with 
 the murder of her husband. He merely arranges his 
 theories so that they may be applied to her with a 
 reasonable degree of assurance. He only goes this 
 far in his deductions: If, as he has gleaned, Challis 
 Wrandall was engaged in an illicit — er — we’ll say dis- 
 traction — with some one unknown to Sara his wife, 
 what could be more spectacular than her discovery of 
 the fact and the subsequently Inspired decision to lay a 
 trap for him? Of course, it is perfect nonsense, but 
 it is the way he goes about it. It has been established 
 beyond a doubt that Wrandall met the woman at a 
 station four miles down the line from Burton’s Inn. 
 
THE APPROACH OF SMITH 
 
 215 
 
 She came out on one of the local trains, got off at this 
 station as prearranged, and found him waiting for 
 her. Two men, you will recall, testified to that effect 
 at the inquest sixteen months ago. She was heavily 
 veiled. She got in the motor and drove off with him. 
 This was at half past eight o’clock in the evening. 
 Smith makes this astounding guess ; the woman instead 
 of being the person expected, was in reality his wife, who 
 had by some means intercepted a letter. Our specula- 
 tive friend Smith is not prepared to suggest an arrest 
 on these flimsy claims, but he believes it to be worth 
 Mrs. WrandalPs while to have the case permanently 
 closed, rather than allow these nasty conclusions to get 
 abroad. They would spread like wildfire. Do you 
 see what I mean ? ” 
 
 It is abominable ! ” cried Hetty, standing before 
 them with flashing eyes. “ I know she did not — ” 
 
 Hetty, my dear ! ” cried Sara sharply. 
 
 The girl looked at her for a moment in a frenzied 
 way, and then turned aside, biting her lips to keep back 
 the actual confession that had rushed up to them. 
 
 It is blackmail,” repeated Mr. Wrandall miserably. 
 
 In the most diabolical form,” augmented Carroll. 
 
 The worst of it is, Wrandall, we can’t stop his tongue 
 unless we fairly choke him with greenbacks. All he has 
 to do is to give the confounded yellow journals an in- 
 kling of his suspicions, and the job is done. It seems to 
 be pretty well understood that the crime was not com- 
 mitted by a person in the ordinary walks of life, but 
 by one who is secure in the protection of mighty influ- 
 ences. There are those who believe that his compan- 
 ion was one of the well-known and prominent young ma- 
 trons in the city, many of whom were at one time or 
 another interested in him in a manner not at all compli- 
 
THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 216 
 
 mentary. Smith suggests — mind you, he merely sug- 
 gests — that the person who was to have met Wrandall 
 in the country that night was so highly connected that 
 she does not dare reveal herself, although absolutely 
 innocent of the crime. Or, it is possible on the other 
 hand, he says, that she may consider herself extremely 
 lucky in failing to keep her appointment and thereby 
 alluring him to take up with another, after she had writ- 
 ten the letter breaking off the engagement, — said let- 
 ter not having been received by him because it had fal- 
 len into the hands of his wife. Do you see? It is in- 
 genious, isn’t it? ” 
 
 What is to be done? ” groaned Mr. Wrandall, in a 
 state of collapse. He was sitting limply back in the 
 chair, crumpled to the chin. 
 
 The sanest thing, I’d suggest,” said Booth sar- 
 castically, is the capture of the actual perpetrator of 
 the deed.” 
 
 But, confound them,” growled Carroll, “ they say 
 they can’t.” 
 
 I shall withdraw my offer of reward,” proclaimed 
 the unhappy father, struggling to his feet. I never 
 dreamed it could come to such a pass as this. You do 
 believe me, don’t you, Sara, my child — my daughter? 
 God hear me, I never — ” 
 
 Oh,” said she cuttingly, you, at least, are inno- 
 cent, Mr. Wrandall.” 
 
 He looked at her rather sharply. 
 
 The confounded fellow is coming to see me to- 
 morrow,” he went on after a moment of indecision. “ I 
 shall be obliged to telephone to the city for my attorney 
 to come out also. I don’t believe in taking chances 
 with these scoundrels. They — ” 
 
 May I enquire, sir, why you entrusted the matter 
 
THE APPROACH OF SMITH 
 
 217 
 
 to a third rate detective agency when there are such 
 reputable concerns as the Pinkertons or — ” began Mr. 
 Carroll bitingly. 
 
 Mr. Wrandall held up his hand deprecatingly. 
 
 We had an idea that an unheard of agency might 
 accomplish more than one of the famous organisations.” 
 
 Well, you see what has come of it,” growled the 
 other. 
 
 I was opposed to the reward, sir,” declared Mr. 
 Wrandall with some heat. Not that I was content 
 to give up the search, but because I felt sure that the 
 guilty person would eventually reveal herself. They 
 always do, sir. It is the fundamental principle of 
 criminology. Soon or late they falter. My son Leslie 
 is of a like opinion. He has declared all along that 
 the mystery will be cleared up if we are quiescent. A 
 guilty conscience takes its own way to relieve itself. 
 If you keep prodding it with sharp sticks you en- 
 courage fear, and stealth, and all that sort of thing, 
 without really getting anywhere in the end. Give a 
 murderer a free rope and he’ll hang himself, is my be- 
 lief. Threaten him with that self-same rope, and he’ll 
 pay more attention to dread than to conscience, and 
 your ends are defeated.” 
 
 Sara was inwardly nervous. She stole a glance at 
 the white, emotionless face of the girl across the table, 
 and was filled with apprehension. 
 
 Can you be sure, Mr. Wrandall,” she began ear- 
 nestly, that justice isn’t the antidote for the posion- 
 ous thing we call a conscience.? Suppose this woman 
 to have been fully justified in doing what she did, does 
 it follow that conscience can force her to admit, even 
 to herself, that she is morally guilty of a crime against 
 man.? I doubt it, sir.” 
 
218 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 She was prepared for a subtle change in Hetty’s 
 countenance and was not surprised to see the light of 
 hope steal back into her eyes. 
 
 Fully justified?” murmured the old gentleman 
 painfully, 
 
 “ Perhaps we would better not go into that question 
 too intimately,” suggested Mr. Carroll. 
 
 My son Leslie has peculiar views along the very 
 line — ” began Mr. Wrandall, in great distress of mind. 
 He fell into a reflective mood and did not finish the sen- 
 tence. 
 
 I shall see this man Smith,” announced Sara calmly. 
 Her father-in-law stood over her, his face working. 
 My dear,” he said, I promise you this absurd busi- 
 ness shall go no farther. Don’t let it trouble you in 
 the least. I will attend to Smith. If there is no other 
 way to check his vile insinuations, I will pay his price. 
 You are not to be submitted to these dreadful — ” 
 
 She interrupted him. You will do nothing of the 
 kind, Mr. Wrandall,” she said levelly. Do you want 
 to convince him that I am guilty ? ” 
 
 “ God in heaven, no ! ” 
 
 Then why pay him the reward you have offered for 
 the person who is guilty? ” 
 
 It is an entirely different propo — ” 
 
 It amounts to the same thing, sir. He tells you 
 he has discovered the woman you want and you fulfil 
 your part of the bargain by paying him for his services. 
 That closes the transaction, so far as he is concerned. 
 He goes his way fully convinced that he has put his 
 hands on the criminal, and then proceeds to wash them 
 in private instead of in public. No. Let me see this 
 man. I insist.” 
 
 He will be at my place to-morrow at eleven,” said 
 
THE APPROACH OF SMITH 219 
 
 Wrandall resignedly. I wish Leslie were here. He is 
 so level-headed.” 
 
 Sara laid her hand on his arm. He looked up and 
 found her regarding him rather fixedly. 
 
 It would be just as well as to keep this from Mrs. 
 Wrandall and Vivian,” she said meaningly. 
 
 You are right, Sara. It would distress them be- 
 yond words.” 
 
 She smiled faintly. May I enquire whether Mr. 
 Smith is to report to you or to Mrs. Wrandall? ” 
 
 He flushed. My wife — er — made the arrange- 
 ments with him, Sara,” he said, but added quickly: 
 
 With my sanction, of course. He reports to me. As 
 a matter of fact, now that I think of it, he advised me 
 to say nothing to my wife until he had talked with me.” 
 
 Inasmuch as he has already talked it over with me, 
 through counsel, I don’t see any reason why we should 
 betray his gentle confidence, do you ? ” 
 
 I — I suppose not,” said he uncomfortably. 
 
 Then, bring him here at eleven, Mr. Wrandall,” 
 said she serenely. He has already paved the way. I 
 imagine he expects to find me at home. Put the things 
 here, Watson.” 
 
 Watson had appeared with the tray, 
 hot day, he did not bring tea. 
 
 It being a very 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 MR. WRANDALL PERJURES HIMSELF 
 
 Smith arrived at eleven, somewhat after the fashion of 
 the Hawkshaws of yellow back ’’ fame, who, if our 
 memory serves us right, were so punctual that their ap- 
 pearance anywhere was described as being in the nick 
 o’ time,” only in this instance he was expected and did 
 not drop from the sky,” as the saying goes. 
 
 Mr. Wrandall met him at the station and escorted him 
 in a roundabout way to Southlook, carefully avoiding 
 the main village thoroughfare and High street, where 
 the fashionable colony was intrenched. Mr. Smith, be- 
 ing an experienced detective, was not surprised to find 
 (after the introduction), that Mr. Wrandall’s attorney 
 had been a fellow-passenger from town. If he was im- 
 pressed, he did not once betray the fact during the four 
 mile spin to Sara’s. On the contrary, he seemed to be 
 entirely absorbed in the scenery. 
 
 Mr. Wrandall had said, without shaking hands : We 
 will repair at once to Mrs. Challis Wrandall’s house, 
 Mr. Smith. She is expecting you. I have informed 
 her of your mission.” 
 
 I think we’d better discuss the matter between our- 
 selves, Mr. Wrandall, before putting it up to — ” 
 
 There Is nothing in connection with this unhappy 
 affair, sir, that cannot be discussed first-hand with 
 her,” said his employer stiffly. 
 
 Just as you like, sir,” said Smith indifferently. 
 
 I have talked it over with old man Carroll. He un- 
 derstands.” 
 
 I am quite sure he does, Mr. Smith,” said the other, 
 220 
 
MR. WRANDALL PERJURES HIMSELF 221 
 
 with emphasis. Mr. Smith successfully hid a smile. 
 
 He took his seat beside the chauffeur. 
 
 I am surprised,” he observed to the driver, as a 
 
 feeler,” “ that you haven’t changed bodies.” 
 
 Mr. Wrandall ordered the limousine, sir,” said the 
 chauffeur. 
 
 Oh, I see. Keeps it on hand for rainy days, I sup- 
 pose.” 
 
 “ It’s Mrs. Wrandall’s idea,” explained the man. 
 
 Women are fussy about their hair. We always have 
 a limousine handy.” 
 
 It is a handy thing to have about,” said Mr. Smith 
 drily, as he looked out of the corner of his eye and 
 remarked the two men behind him. They were in very 
 close conversation. 
 
 The boss usually takes the other car. He likes the 
 wind in his face, he says. I don’t know why he ordered 
 the limousine to-day.” 
 
 Probably there’s something in the wind to-day he 
 doesn’t like,” remarked Smith, after which he devoted 
 himself assiduously to the road ahead, not being a prac- 
 ticed motorist. 
 
 As they were ascending the steps in Sara’s exotic 
 garden. Smith ventured a somewhat sinister remark. 
 
 These steps are not good for a man with a weak 
 heart, Mr. Wrandall. I hope yours is sound.” 
 
 Quite, Mr. Smith. Have no fear,” said Mr. Wran- 
 dall, with an acute sense of divination. You will 
 also find it to be in the right place.” 
 
 Umph,” said Mr. Smith. 
 
 Sara did not keep them waiting long in the morning 
 room. She came in soon after they were announced, 
 followed by Mr. Carroll, who had spent the night at 
 Southlook. Hetty Castleton was not in evidence. 
 
222 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 She motioned them to seats after Mr. Wrandall had 
 ceremoniously introduced his lawyer, and as uncere- 
 moniously neglected to do as much for Smith. 
 
 This is Mr. Smith, I presume,” said she, with a 
 slight uplifting of her eyebrows. She took ^ chair 
 facing the detective. 
 
 Yes, my dear,” said her father-in-law. Joseph 
 Smith.” 
 
 ^‘Benjamin, if you please,” corrected Mr. Smith. 
 
 I regret to state that my memory for names does 
 not go back to the Old Testament,” said Wrandall, with 
 a frosty smile. 
 
 There are no Smiths in the Old Testament,” said 
 the detective grimly. 
 
 I understand, Mr. Smith, that you are prepared to 
 charge me with the murder of my husband.” 
 
 She said it very quietly, very levelly. Smith was a 
 bit staggered. 
 
 ^^Well, I — er — hardly that, Mrs. Wrandall,” he 
 said, disconcerted. 
 
 Will you be good enough to come to the point at 
 once.? ” 
 
 My report in this matter, madam, is to be made to 
 Mr. Wrandall here, as I understand it,” said the de- 
 tective, his jaw stiffening. ^^We don’t, as a rule, re- 
 port our findings to — well, to the person we suspect. 
 It isn’t what you’d call regular. Mr. Wrandall has 
 employed me to make the investigation. He can hardly 
 expect me to reveal my findings to you.” 
 
 My dear Sara — ” began Mr. Wrandall. 
 
 As this is a rather intimate conference, Mr. Smith,” 
 interrupted Sara, with a gracious smile for her father- 
 in-law, I fancy we have nothing to gain, one way or 
 another, by recriminations. You have already con- 
 
MR. WRANDALL PERJURES HIMSELF 223 
 
 suited Mr. Carroll, and I have talked it over with Mr. 
 Wrandall. That was to have been expected, I believe. 
 As I understand the situation, you are somewhat curious 
 to know just how much it is worth to me to have the 
 matter dropped.” 
 
 Smith eyed her steadily. 
 
 That is the case, precisely,” he said briefly. 
 
 Then you are not really interested in having the 
 guilty person brought to justice? ” 
 
 I am not an officer of the law, madam. I am a pri- 
 vate individual, working for private ends. It is for 
 Mr. Wrandall to say whether my discoveries shall be 
 related in court. I respectfully submit that I am act- 
 ing within my rights. My deductions have been formed. 
 That is as far as I can go without his authority. He 
 has offered a reward, and he has gone farther than that 
 by engaging us to devote our time, brains and energies 
 to the case. I am in this position at present : our Arm 
 cannot accept the reward he has offered without de- 
 liberately declaring to the world that we can put our 
 hand on the slayer of his son. As I cannot produce the 
 actual proof that we have found that person, I am in 
 honour compelled to submit our findings so far as they 
 have gone, and then either to withdraw from the matter 
 or carry it on to the end, as he may elect. Our time is 
 worth something, madam. We have made a careful and 
 exhaustive investigation. We have come to the point 
 where we can go no farther without more or less pub- 
 licly associating you with our theories. I spoke to Mr. 
 Carroll yesterday, it is true, and I am here to-day to 
 lay my facts before Mr. Wrandall — and his attorney, 
 I see. Mr. Carroll chose to call me a blackmailer. He 
 may be correct in his legal way of looking at it. But 
 he is wrong in assuming that my motives are criminal. 
 
224 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 I submit that they are fair, open and above board.” 
 
 There was a moment’s silence following this astonish^- 
 ingly succinct summing up of his position. The three 
 men had not taken their eyes from his shrewd, frank 
 face during that clever speech. They had nothing to 
 say. It had been agreed among them that Sara was 
 to do the talking. They were to do the watching. 
 
 You put the case very fairly, Mr. Smith,” said she 
 seriously. I think your position is clear enough, 
 assuming of course that you have any real evidence to 
 support your theories, whatever they may be. I am 
 perfectly free to say that you interest me.” 
 
 “ Interest you? ” he said, in some exasperation. He 
 had expected her to fly into a passion. Don’t you 
 take me seriously, madam? ” 
 
 As far as you have gone, yes.” 
 
 Mr. Wrandall could hold in no longer. He was most 
 uncomfortable. 
 
 See here. Smith, out with it. Let us have your 
 story. My daughter-in-law is not in the least alarmed. 
 You’ve been on the wrong track, of course. But that 
 isn’t the point. What we want now is to And out just 
 where we stand.” 
 
 You put it in a rather compromising way, Mr. 
 Wrandall. The pronoun ^ we ’ is somewhat general, if 
 you will permit me to say so. Do you expect me to dis- 
 cuss my findings in the presence of Mrs. Wrandall and 
 her counsel? ” ♦ 
 
 Certainly, sir, certainly. You need have no hesi- 
 tancy on that score. I dare say you came here know- 
 ing that what you were to say would go no further than 
 these four walls.” 
 
 Would you say that, sir, if I were to submit proof 
 that would make it look so black for Mrs. Wrandall 
 
MR. WRANDALL PERJURES HIMSELF 225 
 
 that you couldn’t very well doubt her complicity in the 
 crime, even though you saw fit to let it go no further 
 than these four walls? ” 
 
 Mr. Wrandall hesitated. A heavy frown appeared 
 between his eyes; his fingers worked nervously on the 
 arm of the chair. 
 
 I may say to you, Mr. Smith, that if you produce 
 conclusive proof I shall do my duty as a law-respecting 
 citizen. I would not hesitate on that score.” 
 
 Sara looked at him through half-closed lids. His 
 jaws were firmly set. 
 
 Smith seemed to be reflecting. He did not speak for 
 a long interval. 
 
 In the first place, it struck me as odd that the man’s 
 wife did not take more interest in the search that was 
 made immediately after the kill — after the tragedy. 
 Not only that, but it is of record that she deliberately 
 informed the police that she didn’t care whether they 
 caught the guilty party or not. Isn’t that true? ” 
 The question was directed to no one in particular. 
 
 It was Sara who answered. 
 
 Quite true, Mr. Smith. And if it will interest you 
 in the least, I repeat that I don’t care even now.” 
 
 You were asked if you would offer a reward in ad- 
 dition to the small one announced by the authorities. 
 Why didn’t you offer a reward? ” 
 
 Because I did not care to make it an object for 
 well-meaning detectives to pry into the affairs of indis- 
 creet members of society,” she said. 
 
 I see,” said he reflectively. May I be so bold 
 as to ask why you don’t want to have the guilty pun- 
 ished? ” 
 
 She looked at Mr. Wrandall before offering a reply 
 to this direct question. 
 
226 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 I can’t answer that question without publicly 
 wounding Mr. Wrandall.” 
 
 We understand each other, Sara,” said the old man 
 painfully. I think you would better answer his ques- 
 tion.” 
 
 Because my husband courted the fate that befell 
 him, Mr. Smith. That is my reply. While I do not 
 know what actually transpired at the inn, I am reason- 
 ably certain that my husband’s life was taken by some 
 one who had suffered at his hands. I can say no more.” 
 
 The eye for an eye principle, eh? ” There was 
 deep sarcasm in the way he said it. As she did not 
 respond to the challenge, he abruptly changed tactics. 
 
 Where were you on the night of the murder, Mrs. 
 Wrandall? ” 
 
 She smiled. I thought you knew, Mr. Smith.” 
 
 “ I have reason to believe that you were at Burton’s 
 Inn,” he said bluntly. 
 
 But you wouldn’t be at all sure about it if I said I 
 wasn’t there, would you, Mr. Smith? ” 
 
 I don’t quite get you, Mrs. Wrandall.” 
 
 I mean to say, if I made it worth your while to 
 change your opinion,” she said flatly. 
 
 He cleared his throat. You couldn’t change my 
 opinion, so there’s an end to that. You could stop me 
 right where I am, if that’s what you mean. I’m per- 
 fectly frank about it, gentlemen. You needn’t look as 
 if you’d like to kill me. I’m not anxious to go on with 
 the investigation. I don’t know enough up to date 
 to be sure of a conviction, but I guess I could get the 
 proof if it is to be found. This is a family affair, I 
 take it. Mr. Wrandall here doesn’t want to — ” 
 
 Mr. Wrandall struck the arm of his chair a violent 
 blow with his clenched fist. 
 
MR. WRANDALL PERJURES HIMSELF 227 
 
 You have no authority, sir, to make such a state- 
 ment ! ” he exclaimed. I want it distinctly understood 
 that I would give half of what I possess to have the 
 slayer of my son brought to justice.’’ 
 
 But you don’t want this thing to go any further 
 so far as Mrs. Challis Wrandall is concerned,” said 
 Smith coolly. 
 
 Of course not, you miserable scoundrel ! ” cried 
 the other in a rage. She’s no more guilty than I am.” 
 
 Don’t call names, Mr. Wrandall,” said Smith, a 
 steely glitter in his eyes. I am prepared to lay be- 
 fore you certain facts that I have unravelled, but I am 
 not willing to give them to Mrs. Wrandall.” 
 
 My daughter-in-law spent the night at her own 
 apartment, waiting for my son,” said Wrandall, regain- 
 ing control of himself. That is positively known to 
 me, sir. Positively ! ” 
 
 How can you be sure of that, Mr. Wrandall.^” 
 asked Smith sharply. 
 
 The gaunt old face, suddenly very much older than it 
 had been before, took on a stern, defiant expression. 
 
 I spoke with her over the telephone at half past 
 nine o’clock that night,” said he steadily. 
 
 Smith was not the only one to be surprised by this 
 startling declaration. Sara Wrandall’s eyes widened 
 ever so slightly, and one might have detected a sharp 
 catch in her breath. 
 
 She called you up.^^ ” asked Smith, after a moment 
 to collect his wits. 
 
 Mr. Wrandall was not to be trapped. He had made 
 up his mind to lie for Sara in this hour of need^ and he 
 had considered well his* methods. 
 
 No. I called up the apartment.” 
 
 How did you know she was at her apartment ” 
 
228 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 I did not know it. I called up to speak with my 
 son. She answered the call, Mr. Smith.’^ 
 
 He arose from the chair. Smith also came slowly 
 to his feet, the look of astonishment still on his face. 
 
 And now, sir,’’ went on the old man, levelling a 
 bony finger at him, I think we can dispense with your 
 services. I will give you credit for one thing: you are 
 plain-spoken and above board. You want money and 
 3^ou don’t beat about the bush. If you will instruct 
 your office to send to me a bill for services, I will pay 
 it. I engaged you, and I am ready to pay for my 
 stupidity. My car will take you back to the sta- 
 tion.” 
 
 Smith picked up his hat and fumbled with it for a mo- 
 ment, plainly dismayed. 
 
 If I have been on the wrong lead, Mr. Wrandall, I 
 am willing to drop it and start all over again. I sup- 
 pose your reward still stands. I am sure we can — ” 
 
 It does not stand, sir. I shall withdraw it this 
 very day. God knows if I had thought it would lead 
 us to this pass, it should never have been offered. Now, 
 go, sir.” 
 
 Smith held his ground doggedly. There are a few 
 points I’d like to — ” 
 
 « No ! ” 
 
 For the sake of justice and — ” 
 
 Sara interrupted the man. She had crossed to Mr. 
 Wrandall’s side, a queer light in her eyes. Her hand 
 fell upon his trembling old arm and he felt a thrill pass 
 from her warm, strong fingers into the very core of his 
 body. 
 
 Mr. Smith, will you give me an off-hand estimate of 
 what your services amount to in dollars and cents up to 
 date? ” 
 
MR. WRANDALL PERJURES HIMSELE 229 
 
 You don’t owe me anything, Mrs. Wrandall,” said 
 Smith, flushing a dull red. 
 
 You came here to give me a chance, Mr. Smith, 
 feeling that I was actually implicated. You had a 
 price fixed in your mind. You still have your doubts, 
 in spite of what Mr. Wrandall says. It occurred to 
 you that it would be worth considerable to me if the in- 
 vestigation went no farther. You realised that you 
 could not have brought this crime home to me, because 
 you could not have found real, satisfying evidence. 
 But you could have gone to the newspapers with your 
 suspicions, and you could have made one-half the world 
 believe that an innocent person was guilty of a foul 
 crime. The world loves its sensations. It would have 
 gloated over the little you could have given it, and it 
 would have damned me unheard. I owe you something 
 for sparing me a fate so wretched as that. Your price : 
 What is it? ” 
 
 Sara ! ” cried Mr. Wrandall, aghast. 
 
 My dear Mrs. Wrandall,” cried Carroll, blinking 
 his eyes, you are not thinking of — ” 
 
 I am thinking of paying Mr. Smith his price,” said 
 Sara calmly. 
 
 Why, damn it all,” roared Carroll, you counte- 
 nance his ridiculous assertions — ” 
 
 No ; I do nothing of the sort, Mr. Carroll, and Mr. 
 Smith knows it quite as well as you do. He still has 
 it in his power to set the tongues to wagging. We 
 can’t get around that, gentlemen. I want to pay him 
 to drop the case entirely. The reward has been with- 
 drawn. Will it satisfy your cupidity, Mr. Smith, if I 
 agree to pay to you a like amount ? ” 
 
 Good Lord ! ” gasped Smith, staggered. 
 
 I cannot permit — ” began Mr. Wrandall. 
 
230 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 She looked him squarely in the eye and the words 
 died on his lips. 
 
 I prefer to have it my way,” she said. “ I will not 
 accept favours from Mr. Smith — nor any other man.” 
 Wrandall alone caught the significance of the last four 
 words. She would not accept the favour of a lie from 
 him ! And yet she would not humiliate by denying him 
 in the presence of others. Mr. Carroll will attend to 
 this matter for me, Mr. Smith, if you will call at his 
 office at your convenience. I shall make but a single 
 stipulation in addition to the one involved: you are to 
 drop the case altogether. Mr. Wrandall has already 
 dismissed you. You are under no further obligations 
 to him or his family. I respectfully submit to all of 
 you, gentlemen, that when the investigations go so far 
 astray as they have gone in this instance, it isn’t safe 
 to let them continue with the possible chance of proving 
 unwholesome to other innocent persons, toward whom, 
 in some justice, attention might be drawn. The young 
 woman now in the far West is a sickening example. I 
 refer to the Ashtley girl. If, by any chance, the right 
 person should be taken, I will do my part, Mr. Wran- 
 dall, with the same purpose if not the same spirit that 
 actuates you, but I am opposed to baring skeletons to 
 gratify the morbid curiosity of a public that despises 
 all of us because, unhappily, we are what we are. I 
 trust I make myself plain to you. I loved my husband. 
 I have no desire to know the names of women who were 
 his — we will say — who were in love with him.” 
 
 Mr. Wrandall bowed his head and said not a word. 
 His attorney, who had been a silent listener from the 
 beginning, spoke for the first time. 
 
 If Mr. Smith will call at my office to-morrow, I 
 will attend to the closing of this matter to his entire 
 
MR. WRANDALL PERJURES HIMSELF 231 
 
 satisfaction. Mr. Wrandall has already authorised me 
 to settle in full for his time and — patience.” 
 
 I don’t like to take money in this way — ” 
 
 We won’t discuss ethics, Mr. Smith.” 
 
 “ Just as you like, then. I’m only too happy to be 
 off the job. Good morning, madam. Good morning, 
 gentlemen.” 
 
 He stalked from the room. Watson was waiting in 
 the hall. 
 
 This way,” he said, indicating the big front door. 
 
 Smith grinned sheepishly. ’Gad, they don’t even 
 think I can find a front door,” he said. 
 
 Redmond Wrandall turned to the two men after he 
 heard the door of his automobile slam in the porte-co- 
 chere. 
 
 Gentlemen, I believe it is unnecessary to announce 
 to you that I did not speak over the telephone with my 
 daughter-in-law on that wretched night,” he said slowly. 
 
 They nodded their heads. 
 
 I am not a good liar. Do you think the fellow be- 
 lieved me.f^ ” 
 
 No,” said Sara instantly. “ He is accustomed to 
 better lying than you can supply. But it doesn’t in 
 the least matter. He knows, however, that you spoke 
 the truth when you said I was in my apartment, even 
 though you are not sure of it yourself, Mr. Wrandall. 
 I will not presume to thank you for what you did, but 
 I shall never forget it, sir.” 
 
 He regarded her rather austerely for a moment. I 
 am glad you do not thank me, Sara,” he said. You 
 are not to feel that you are under the slightest obliga- 
 tion to me.” 
 
 “ I regret that you felt it necessary to perjure 
 yourself,” she said levelly, and then broke into a soft 
 
232 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 little laugh as she laid her hand on his arm once more. 
 
 Come ! Let us have a semi-public view of Hetty’s 
 portrait.” 
 
 He looked up alertly at the mention of the girl’s 
 name. 
 
 By the way, where is Miss Castleton ? ” he asked, 
 drawing a long breath as if the air had suddenly become 
 wholesome. 
 
 She is back yonder in the living-room, having her 
 last sitting to Brandon Booth. Just a few finishing 
 touches, that’s all. I hear them laughing. The day’s 
 work is done.” 
 
 She led the way down the kng hall, followed by the 
 old gentlemen, who came three abreast, hoary retainers 
 at the heels of youth. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 IN THE SHADOW OF THE MIEE 
 
 Later on Sara, in sober reflection, endorsed what had 
 appeared at the time to be a whimsical, quixotic pro- 
 ceeding on her part. She brought herself completely 
 to the point where she could view her action with com- 
 placency. At first, there was an irritating, nagging 
 fear that Mr. Wrandall had been genuinely soul-sacri- 
 ficing in his effort to defend her; that his decisive false- 
 hood was a sincere declaration of loyalty to her and not 
 the transparent outburst of one actuated by a sort of 
 fanatical selfishness, in that he dreaded the further 
 dragging in the dust of the name of Wrandall, and all 
 that in spite of his positive belief that she was being 
 wrongly, unfairly attacked. She knew that her father- 
 in-law had no doubt in his mind that she could success- 
 fully combat any charge Smith might bring against her ; 
 that her innocence would prevail even in the opinion of 
 the scheming detective. But behind all this was the 
 Wrandall conclusion that a skin was to be saved, and 
 that skin the one which covered the Wrandall pride. 
 
 His lie was not glorifying. She even consented that 
 it might be the first deliberate falsehood this honoura- 
 ble, discriminating gentleman had told in all his life. 
 At the moment, he may have been actuated by a motive 
 that deceived him, but even unknown to him the Wran- 
 dall self-interest was at work. He was not lying for 
 her, but for the Wrandalls ! And she would have to re- 
 main his debtor all her life because of that amiable 
 falsehood ! 
 
 She intuitively felt the force of that secret motive 
 233 
 
234 * 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 almost the instant it found expression, and she resented 
 it even as she applauded it in the first wave of inward 
 enthusiasm. She might have marked it down to his 
 credit, and loved him a little for it, had not his rather 
 distorted integrity impelled him to confess his trans- 
 gression to the lawyers, whereas it was perfectly plain 
 that they appreciated his distortion of the truth with- 
 out having it explained to them in so many words. 
 That virtuous little speech of his was all-illuminating ; 
 it let in a great light and laid bare the weakness that 
 was too strong for him. 
 
 Her abrupt change of front, her suddenly formed re- 
 solve to pay the man his price, was the result of a nat- 
 ural opposition to the elder Wrandall. She acted has- 
 tily, even ruthlessly, in direct contradiction to her 
 original intentions, but she now felt that she had acted 
 v/isely. There could be no doubt in the mind of the 
 keen-witted Smith that Mr. Wrandall had lied; his lips 
 therefore were sealed, not by the declaration, but by 
 her own surprising offer to remunerate. 
 
 When she told Hetty what she had done, the girl, 
 who had been tortured by doubts and misgivings, threw 
 herself into her arms and sobbed out her gratitude. 
 
 I could die for you, Sara. I could die a thousand 
 deaths,” she cried. 
 
 Oh, I dare say Smith is quite delighted,” said Sara 
 carelessly. He had come up against a brick wall, 
 don’t you see. He could go no further. There was 
 but one thing for him to do and he did it. He had no 
 case, but he felt that he ought to be paid just the same. 
 Mr. Wrandall would never have paid him, he was sure 
 of that. His game failed. He thinks better of me now 
 than he ever did before, and I have made a friend of 
 him, strange as it may appear.” 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF THE MILL 235 
 
 Oh, I hope so.” 
 
 Sara stroked her cheek gently. Don’t be afraid, 
 Hetty. We are quite safe.” 
 
 Hetty secretly gloated over that little pronoun ^ we.^ 
 It spelt security. 
 
 And wasn’t it splendid of Mr. Wrandall to say 
 what he did.^ ” she mused, lying back among the cush- 
 ions with a sigh of relaxation. 
 
 Sara did not at once reply. She smiled rather oddly. 
 
 It was,” she said succinctly. I am sure Leslie 
 will go into raptures over his father’s decline and fall.” 
 
 Must he be told.^ ” in some dismay. 
 
 Certainly. Every son should know his own father,” 
 she explained, with a quiet laugh. 
 
 The next day but one was overcast. On cloudy, 
 bleak days Hetty Castleton always felt depressed. 
 Shadowless days, v/hen the sun was obscured, filled her 
 with a curious sense of apprehension, as if when the 
 sun came out again he would not find the world as he 
 had left it. She did not mope ; it was not in her nature. 
 She was more than ever mentally alert on such days, for 
 the very reason that the world seemed to have lapsed 
 into a state of indifference, with the sun nowhere to be 
 seen. There was a queer sensation of dread in knowing 
 that that great ball of fire was somewhere in the vault 
 above her and yet unlocated in the sinister pall that 
 spread over the skies. Her fancy ofttimes pictured 
 him sailing in the west when he should be in the east, 
 dodging back and forth in impish abandon behind the 
 screen, and she wondered at such times if he would be 
 where he belonged when the clouds lifted. 
 
 Leslie was to return from the wilds on the following 
 day. Early in the morning Booth had telephoned to 
 enquire if she did not want to go for a long walk with 
 
S36 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 him before luncheon. The portrait was finished, but 
 he could not afford to miss the morning hour with her. 
 He said as much to her in pressing his invitation. 
 
 To-morrow Leslie will be here and I shan’t see as 
 much of you as I’d like,” he explained, rather wistfully. 
 
 Three is a crowd, you know. I’ve got so used to 
 having you all to myself, it’s hard to break off sud- 
 denly.” 
 
 I will be ready at eleven,” she said, and was in- 
 stantly surprised to find that her voice rang with new 
 life, new interest. The greyness seemed to lift from the 
 view that stretched beyond the window ; she even looked 
 for the sun in her eagerness. 
 
 It was then that she knew why the world had been 
 bleaker than usual, even in its cloak of grey. 
 
 A little before eleven she set out briskly to intercept 
 him at the gates. Unknown to her, Sara sat in her 
 window, and viewed her departure with gloomy eyes. 
 The world also was grey for her. 
 
 They came upon each other unexpectedly at a sharp 
 turn in the avenue. Hetty coloured with a sudden rush 
 of confusion, and had all she could do to meet his eager, 
 happy eyes as he stood over her and proclaimed 
 his pleasure in jerky, awkward sentences. Then they 
 walked on together, a strange shyness attending them. 
 She experienced the faintness of breath that comes 
 when the heart is filled with pleasant alarms. As for 
 Booth, his blood sang. He thrilled with the joy of be- 
 ing near her, of the feel of her all about him, of the de- 
 licious feminine appeal that made her so wonderful to 
 him. He wanted to crush her in his arms, to keep her 
 there for ever, to exert all of his brute physical strength 
 so that she might never again be herself but a part of 
 him. 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF THE MILL S37 
 
 They uttered commonplaces. The spell was on them. 
 It would lift, but for the moment they were powerless 
 to struggle against it. At length he saw the colour fade 
 from her cheeks ; her eyes were able to meet his without 
 the look in them that all men love. Then he seemed 
 to get his feet on the ground again, and a strange, in- 
 effably sweet sense of calm took possession of him. 
 
 I must paint you all over again,’’ he said, suddenly 
 breaking in on one of her remarks. Just as you are 
 to-day, — an outdoor girl, a glorious outdoor girl in — ” 
 
 In muddy boots,” she laughed, drawing her skirt 
 away to reveal a shapely foot in an American walking 
 shoe. 
 
 He smiled and gave voice to a new thought. By 
 Jove, how much better looking our American shoes are 
 than the kind they wear in London ! ” 
 
 Sara insists on American shoes, so long as I am 
 with her. I don’t think our boots are so villainous, do 
 you? ” 
 
 “ Just the same, I’m going to paint you again, boots 
 and all. You 
 
 Oh, how tired you will become of me ! ” ‘ 
 
 Try me ! ” 
 
 Besides, you are to do Sara at once. She has con- 
 sented to sit to you. She will be wonderful, Mr. Booth, 
 oh, how wonderful ! ” 
 
 There was no mistaking the sincerity of this rapt 
 opinion. 
 
 Stunning,” was his brief comment. By the way, 
 I’ve hesitated about asking how she and Mr. Wrandall 
 came out with the detective chap.” 
 
 Her face clouded. “ It was so perfectly ridiculous, 
 Mr. Booth. The man is satisfied that he was wrong. 
 The matter is ended.” 
 
238 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Pure blackmail, I’d call it. I hope it isn’t ended 
 so far as she is concerned. I’d have him in jail so 
 quick his — ” 
 
 She’s tender-hearted, and sensitive. No real harm 
 has been done. She refuses to prosecute him.” 
 
 You can’t mean it.” 
 
 If you knew her as I do, you would understand.” 
 
 But her lawyer, what had he to say about it? And 
 Mr. Wrandall? I should have thought they — ” 
 
 I believe they quite approve of what she has done. 
 Nothing will come of it.” 
 
 He walked on in silence for a couple of rods. I 
 have a feeling they will never know who killed Challis 
 Wrandall,” he said. It is a mystery that can’t be 
 solved by deduction or theory, and there is nothing 
 else for them to work on, as I understand the case. 
 The earth seems to have been generous enough to swal- 
 low her completely. She’s safe unless she chooses to 
 confess, and that isn’t likely. To be perfectly frank 
 with you. Miss Castleton, I rather hope they never get 
 her. He was something of a beast, you know.” 
 
 She was looking straight ahead. You used the 
 word generous, Mr. Booth. Do you mean that she de- 
 serves pity ? ” 
 
 Without knowing all the circumstances, I would 
 say yes. I’ve had the feeling that she was more sinned 
 against than sinning.” 
 
 Would you believe that she acted in self-defence? ” 
 
 “ It is quite possible.” 
 
 Then, will you explain why she does not give her- 
 self up to the authorities and assert her innocence.^ 
 There is no proof to the contrary.” She spoke hur- 
 riedly, with an eagerness which he mistook for doubt. 
 
 For one reason, she may be a good woman who was 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF THE MILL 239 
 
 indiscreet. She may have some one else to think of 
 besides herself. A second reason: she may lack moral 
 courage.’’ 
 
 Moral courage ! ” 
 
 It is one thing to claim self-defence and another 
 thing to get people to believe in it. I suppose you 
 know what Leslie thinks about it? ” 
 
 He has not discussed it with me.” 
 
 He believes his brother deserved what he got.” 
 
 Oh!” 
 
 For that reason he has not taken an active part 
 in hounding her down.” 
 
 She was silent for a long timoj so long indeed that he 
 turned to look at her. 
 
 A thoroughly decent, fair-minded chap is Leslie 
 Wrandall,” he pronounced, for want of something bet- 
 ter to say. Still, I’m bound to say, I’m sorry he is 
 coming home to-morrow.” 
 
 The red crept into her cheeks again. 
 
 I thought you were such pals,” she said nervously. 
 
 I expect to be his best man if he ever marries,” 
 said he, whacking a stone at the road-side with his walk- 
 ing stick. Then he looked up at her furtively and 
 added, with a quizzical smile : Unless something hap- 
 
 pens.” 
 
 “ What could happen? ” 
 
 He might marry the girl I’m in love with, and, in 
 that case, I’d have to be excused.” 
 
 Where shall we walk to this morning? ” she asked 
 abruptly. He had drawn closer to her in the roadway. 
 
 Is it too far to the old stone mill? That’s where 
 I first saw you, if you remember.” 
 
 Yes, let us go there,” she said, but her heart sank. 
 She knew what was coming. Perhaps it were best to 
 
240 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 have it over with ; to put it away with the things that 
 were to always be her lost treasures. It would mean the 
 end of their companionship, the end of a love dream. 
 She would have to lie to him: to tell him she did not 
 love him. 
 
 One would go many a fruitless day in quest of a 
 more attractive pair than they as they strode swiftly 
 down the shady road. They lagged not, for they were 
 strong and healthy, and walking was a joy to them, 
 not an exercise. She kept pace beside him, with her 
 free stride; half a head shorter than he, she did not 
 demand it of him that he should moderate his stride 
 to suit hers. He was tall and long-limbed, but not 
 camel-like in his manner of walking, as so many tall 
 men are apt to be. His eyes were bright with the ex- 
 citement that predicted a no uncertain encounter, al- 
 though he had no definite purpose in mind. There was 
 something singularly wistful, unfathomable, in her vel- 
 vety blue eyes that gave him hope, he knew not why. 
 
 Coming to the jog in the broad macadam, they were 
 striking off into the narrow road that led to the quaint 
 old mill, long since abandoned in the forest glade be- 
 yond, when their attention was drawn to a motor-car, 
 which was slowing down for the turn into Sara’s do- 
 main. A cloud of dust swam in the air far behind the 
 machine. 
 
 A bare-headed man on the seat beside the driver, 
 waved his hand to them, and two women in the tonneau 
 bowed gravely. Both Hetty and Booth flushed uncom- 
 fortably, and hesitated in their progress up the forest 
 road. 
 
 The man was Leslie Wrandall. His mother and sis- 
 ter were in the back seat of the touring car. 
 
 ^^Why — why, it was Leslie,” cried Booth, looking 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF THE MILL 241 
 
 over his shoulder at the rapidly receding car. Shall 
 we turn back, Miss Castleton? ” 
 
 No,’’ she cried instantly, with something like im- 
 patience in her voice. “And spoil our walk?” she 
 added in the next breath, adding a nervous little laugh. 
 
 “ It seems rather — ” he began dubiously. 
 
 “ Oh, let us have our day,” she cried sharply, and 
 led the way into the by-road. 
 
 They came, in the course of a quarter-of-an-hour, to 
 the bridge over the mill-race. Beyond, in the mossy 
 shades, stood a dilapidated, centurion structure known 
 as Rangely’s Mill, a landmark with a history that in- 
 cluded incidents of the revolutionary war, when eager 
 patriots held secret meetings inside its walls and plot- 
 ted under the very noses of Tory adherents to the 
 crown. 
 
 Pausing for a few minutes on the bridge, they leaned 
 on the rail and looked down into the clear, mirror-like 
 water of the race. Their own eyes looked up at them ; 
 they smiled into their own faces. And a fleecy white 
 cloud passed over the glittering stream and swept 
 through their faces, off to the bank, and was gone 
 for ever. 
 
 Suddenly he looked up from the water and fixed his 
 eyes on her face. He had seen her clear blue eyes fill 
 with tears as he gazed into them from the rail above. 
 
 “Oh, my dear!” he cried. ^^What is it?” 
 
 She put her handkerchief to her eyes as she quickly 
 turned away. In another instant, she was smiling up 
 at him, a soft, pleading little smile that went straight 
 to his heart. ^ 
 
 “ Shall we start back? ” she asked, a quaver in her 
 voice. 
 
 “ No,” he exclaimed. “ I’ve got to go on with it 
 
242 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 now, Hetty. I didn’t intend to, but — come, let us go 
 up and sit on that familiar old log in the shade of the 
 mill- You must, dear ! ” 
 
 She suffered him to lead her up the steep bank be- 
 yond and through the rocks and rotten timbers to the 
 great beam that protruded from the shattered founda- 
 tions of the mill. The rickety old wheel, weather-beaten 
 and sad, rose above them and threatened to topple over 
 if they so much as touched its flimsy supports. 
 
 He did not release her hand after drawing her up 
 beside him. 
 
 “ You must know that I love you,” he said simply. 
 
 She made no response. Her hand lay limp in his. 
 She was staring straight before her. 
 
 You do know it, don’t you? ” he went on. 
 
 « I _ Qod knows I don’t want you to love me. I 
 never meant that you should — ” she was saying, as if 
 to herself. 
 
 I suppose it’s hopeless,” he said dumbly, as her 
 voice trailed off in a whisper. 
 
 Yes, it is utterly hopeless,” she said, and she was 
 white to the lips. 
 
 « I — I shan’t say anything more,” said he. Of 
 course, I understand how it is. There’s some one else. 
 Only I want you to know that I love you with all my 
 soul, Hetty. I — I don’t see how I’m going to get on 
 without you. But I — I won’t distress you, dear.” 
 
 There isn’t any one else, Brandon,” she said in a 
 very low voice. Her fingers tightened on his in a sort 
 of desperation. I know what you are thinking. It 
 isn’t Leslie. It never can be Leslie.” 
 
 Then, — then — ” he stammered, the blood surging 
 back into his heart — “ there may be a chance — ” 
 
 ‘^No, no! ” she cried, almost vehemently. I can’t 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF THE MILL 243 
 
 let you go on hoping. It is wrong — so terribly wrong. 
 You must forget me. You must — ” 
 
 He seized her other hand and held them both firmly, 
 masterfully. 
 
 See here, my — look at me, dearest ! What is 
 wrong? Tell me ! You are unhappy. Don’t be afraid 
 to tell me. You — you do love me? ” 
 
 She drew a long breath through her half-closed lips. 
 Her eyes darkened with pain. 
 
 No. I don’t love you. Oh, I am so sorry to have 
 given you — ” 
 
 He was almost radiant. Tell me the truth,” he 
 cried triumphantly. Don’t hold anything back, dar- 
 ling. If there is anything troubling you, let me shoul- 
 der it. I can — I will do anything in the world for you. 
 Listen: I know there’s a mystery somewhere. I have 
 felt it about you always. I have seen it in your eyes, 
 I have always sensed it stealing over me when I’m with 
 you — this strange, bewildering atmosphere of — ” 
 ^‘^Hush! You must not say anything more,” she 
 cried out. I cannot love you. There is nothing 
 more to be said.” 
 
 But I know it now. You do love me. I could 
 shout it to — ” The miserable, whipped expression in 
 her eyes checked this outburst. He was struck by it. 
 even dismayed. My dearest one, my love,” he said, 
 with infinite tenderness, what is it? Tell me! ” 
 
 He drew her to him. His arm went about her shoul- 
 ders. The final thrill of ecstasy bounded through his 
 veins. The feel of her! The wonderful, subtle, fem- 
 inine feel of her! His brain reeled in a new and vast 
 whirl of intoxication. 
 
 She sat there very still and unresisting, her hand to 
 her lips, uttering no word, scarcely breathing. He 
 
244 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 waited. He gave her time. After a little while her 
 fingers strayed to the crown of her limp, rakish pan- 
 ama. They found the single hat-pin and drew it out. 
 He smiled as he pushed the hat away and then pressed 
 her dark little head against his breast. Her blue eyes 
 were swimming. 
 
 Just this once, just this once,” she murmured with 
 a sob in her voice. Her hand stole upward and 
 caressed his brown cheek and throat. Tears of joy 
 started in his eyes — tears of exquisite delight. 
 
 Good God, Hetty, I — I can’t do without you,” he 
 whispered, shaken by his passion. Nothing can come 
 between us. I must have you always like this.” 
 
 ‘‘ Che sardy sard,^* she sighed, like the breath of the 
 summer wind as it sings in the trees. 
 
 The minutes passed and neither spoke. His rapt 
 gaze hung upon the glossy crown that pressed against 
 him so gently. He could not see her eyes, but somehow 
 he felt they were tightly shut, as if in pain. 
 
 I love you, Hetty. Nothing can matter,” he whis- 
 pered at last. Tell me what it is.” 
 
 She lifted her head and gently withdrew herself from 
 his embrace. He did not oppose her, noting the serious, 
 almost sombre look in her eyes as she turned to regard 
 him steadfastly, an unwavering integrity of purpose in 
 their depths. 
 
 She had made up her mind to tell him a part of the 
 truth. Brandon, I am Hetty Glynn.” 
 
 He started, not so much in surprise as at the abrupt- 
 ness with which she made the announcement. 
 
 I have been sure of it, dear, from the beginning,” 
 he said quietly. 
 
 Then her tongue was loosed. The words rushed to 
 her lips. I was Hawkright’s model for six months. 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF THE MILL 245 
 
 I posed for all those studies, and for the big canvas in 
 the academy. It was either that or starvation. Oh, 
 you will hate me — you must hate me.” 
 
 He laid his hand on her hair, a calm smile on his lips. 
 
 I can’t love and hate at the same time,” he said. 
 
 There was nothing wrong in what you did for Hawk- 
 right. I am a painter, you know. I understand. 
 Does — does Mrs. Wrandall know all this.^ ” 
 
 “Yes- — everything. She knows and understands. 
 She is an angel, Brandon, an angel from heaven. But,” 
 she burst forth, I am not altogether a sham. I am 
 the daughter of Colonel Castleton, and I am the cousin 
 of all the Murgatroyds, — the poor relation. It isn’t 
 as if I were the scum of the earth, is it? I am a Cas- 
 tleton. My father comes of a noble family. And, 
 Brandon, the only thing I’ve ever done in my life that 
 I am really ashamed of is the deception I practised on 
 you when you brought that magazine to me and faced 
 me with it. I did not lie to you. I simply let you be- 
 lieve I was not the — the person you thought I was. 
 But I deceived you — ” 
 
 No, you did not deceive me,” he said gently. I 
 read the truth in your dear eyes. 
 
 “ There are other things, too. I shall not speak of 
 them, except to repeat that I have not done anything 
 else in all my life that I should be ashamed of.” Her 
 eyes were burning with earnestness. He could not but 
 understand what she meant. 
 
 Again he stroked her hair. I am sure of that,” he 
 said. 
 
 My mother was Kitty Glynn, the actress. My 
 father, a younger son, fell in love with her. They were 
 married against the wishes of his father, who cut him 
 off. He was in the service, and he was brave enough to 
 
246 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 stick. They went to one of the South African gar- 
 risons, and I was born there. Then to India. Then 
 back to London, where an aunt had died, leaving my 
 father quite a comfortable fortune. But his old friends 
 would have nothing to do with him. He had lived — 
 well, he had made life a hell for my mother in those 
 frontier posts. He deserted us in the end, after he had 
 squandered the fortune. My mother made no effort to 
 compel him to provide for her or for me. She was 
 proud. She was hurt. To-day he is in India, still in 
 the service, a martinet with a record for bravery on the 
 field of battle that cannot be taken from him, no matter 
 what else may befall. I hear from him once or twice a 
 year. That is all I caiii tell you about him. My 
 mother died three years ago, after two years of invalid- 
 ism. During those years I tried to repay her for the 
 sacrifice she had made in giving me the education, 
 the — ” She choked up for a second, and then went 
 bravely on. Her old manager made a place for me 
 in one of his companies. I took my mother’s name, 
 Hetty Glynn, and — well, for a season and a half I 
 was in the chorus. I could not stay there. I could 
 not,” she repeated with a shudder. “I gave it up after 
 my mother’s death. I was fairly well equipped for 
 work as a children’s governess, so I engaged myself 
 to — ” 
 
 She stopped in dismay for he was laughing. 
 
 “ And now do you know what I think of you. Miss 
 Hetty Glynn ” he cried, seizing her hands and regard- 
 ing her with a serious, steadfast gleam in his eyes. 
 
 You are the pluckiest, sandiest girl I’ve ever known. 
 You are the kind that heroines are made of. There is 
 nothing in what you’ve told me that could in the least 
 alter my regard for you, except to increase the love I 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF THE MILL 247 
 
 thought could not be stronger. Will you marry me, 
 Hetty? ’’ 
 
 She jerked her hands away, and held them clenched 
 against her breast. 
 
 No ! I cannot. It is impossible, Brandon. If I 
 loved you less than I do, I might say yes, but — no, it 
 is impossible.” 
 
 His eyes narrowed. A grey shadow crept over his 
 face. 
 
 There can be only one obstacle so serious as all 
 that,” he said slowly. You — you are already mar- 
 ried.” 
 
 “ No ! ” she cried, lifting her pathetic eyes to his. 
 
 It isn’t that. Oh, please be good to me ! Don’t ask 
 me to say anything more. Don’t make it hard for me, 
 Brandon. I love you — I love you. To be your wife 
 would be the most glorious — No, no ! I must not even 
 think of it. I must put it out of my mind. There is 
 a barrier, dearest. We cannot surmount it. Don’t 
 ask me to tell you, for I cannot. I — I am so happy 
 in knowing that you love me, and that you still love me 
 after I have told you how mean and shameless I was in 
 deceiving — ” 
 
 He drew her close and kissed her full on the 
 trembling lips. She gasped and closed her eyes, lying 
 like one in a swoon. Soft, moaning sounds came from 
 her lips. He could not help feeling a vast pity for her, 
 she was so gentle, so miserably hurt by something he 
 could not understand, but knew to be monumental in its 
 power to oppress. 
 
 “ Listen, dearest,” he said, after a long silence ; I 
 understand this much, at least : you can’t talk about it 
 now. Whatever it is, it hurts, and God knows I don’t 
 want to make it worse for you in this hour when I am so 
 
248 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 selfishly happy. Time will show us the way. It can’t 
 be insurmountable. Love always triumphs. I only 
 ask you to repeat those three little words, and I will 
 be content. Say them.” 
 
 I love you,” she murmured. 
 
 There! You are mine! Three little words bind 
 you to me for ever. I will wait until the barrier is 
 down. Then I will take you.” 
 
 The barrier grows stronger every day,” she said, 
 staring out beyond the tree-tops at the scudding clouds. 
 It never can be removed.” 
 
 Some day you will tell me — everything? ” 
 
 She hesitated long. Yes, before God, Brandon, I 
 will tell you. Not now, but — some day. Then you 
 will see why — why I cannot — ” She could not com- 
 plete the sentence. 
 
 I don’t believe there is anything you can tell me 
 that will alter my feelings toward you,” he said firmly. 
 “ The barrier may be insurmountable, but my love is 
 everlasting.” 
 
 I can only thank you, dear, and — love you with 
 all my wretched heart.” 
 
 You are not pledged to some one else? ” 
 
 « No.” 
 
 That’s all I want to know,” he said, with a deep 
 breath. I thought it might be — Leslie.” 
 
 No, no!” she cried out, and he caught a note of 
 horror in her voice. 
 
 Does — does he know this — this thing you can’t 
 tell me? ” he demanded, a harsh note of jealousy in his 
 voice. 
 
 She looked up at him, hurt by his tone. Sara 
 knows,” she said. There is no one else. But you 
 are not to question her. I demand it of you.” 
 
 I will wait for you to tell me,” he said gently. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 SARA WRANDALL RINDS TKK TRUTH 
 
 Sara had kept the three Wrandalls over for luncheon. 
 
 My dear,” said Mrs. Redmond Wrandall, as she 
 stood before Hetty’s portrait at the end of the long 
 living-room, I must say that Brandon has succeeded 
 in catching that lovely little something that makes 
 her so — -what shall I say? — so mysterious? Is that 
 what I want? The word is as elusive as the expres- 
 sion.” 
 
 Subtle is the word you want, mother,” said Vivian, 
 standing beside Leslie, tall, slim and aristocratic, her 
 hands behind her back, her manner one of absolute in- 
 difference. Vivian was more than handsome; she was 
 striking. 
 
 There isn’t anything subtle about Hetty,” said 
 Sara, with a laugh. She’s quite ingenuous.” 
 
 Leslie was pulling at his moustache, and frowning 
 slightly. The sunburn on his nose and forehead had 
 begun to peel off in chappy little flakes. 
 
 Ripping likeness, though,” was his comment. 
 
 Oh, perfect,” said his mother. Really wonder- 
 ful. It will make Brandon famous.” 
 
 She’s so healthy-looking,” said Vivian. 
 
 English,” remarked Leslie, as if that covered 
 everything. 
 
 Nonsense,” cried the elder Mrs. Wrandall, lift- 
 ing her lorgnette again. “ Pure, honest, unmixed 
 blood, that’s what it is. There is birth in that girl’s 
 face.” 
 
 249 
 
250 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 You’re always talking about birth, mother,” said 
 her son sourly, as he turned away. 
 
 ^‘It’s a good thing to have,” said his mother with 
 conviction. 
 
 It’s an easy thing to get in America,” said he, pull- 
 ing out his cigarette case. Have a cigarette, mother? 
 Sara? ” 
 
 I’ll take one, Les,” said Vivian. She selected one 
 and passed the case on to her mother. Sara shook 
 her head. 
 
 No, thanks,” she said. 
 
 Mrs. Redmond Wrandall laid her cigarette down 
 without attempting to light it, a sudden frostiness in 
 her manner. Vivian and Leslie blew long plumes of 
 smoke from the innermost recesses of their lungs. 
 
 ‘^Nerves?” asked Vivian mildly. 
 
 I don’t like Leslie’s brand,” explained Sara. 
 
 They’re excellent, I think,” said Mrs. Wrandall, 
 and thereupon accepted a light from Leslie. 
 
 ‘^Weil, let’s be off,” said he, somewhat irritably. 
 
 Tell Miss Castleton we’re sorry to have missed her.” 
 
 It was then that Sara prevailed upon them to stop 
 for luncheon. She always takes these long walks 
 in the morning, and she will be disappointed if she 
 finds you haven’t waited — ” 
 
 Oh, as for that — ” began Leslie and stopped, but 
 he could not have been more lucid if he had uttered 
 the sentence in full. 
 
 Why didn’t you pick her up and bring her home 
 with you?” asked Sara, as they moved off in the di- 
 rection of the porch. 
 
 She seemed to be taking Brandy out for his morn- 
 ing exercise,” said he surlily. ‘^Far be it from me 
 to— Umph!” 
 
SARA WRANDALL FINDS THE TRUTH 251 
 
 Sara repressed the start of surprise. She thought 
 Hetty was alone. 
 
 She will bring him in for luncheon, I suppose,’^ 
 she said carelessly, although there was a slight con- 
 traction of the eyelids. He is a privileged char- 
 acter.” 
 
 It was long past the luncheon hour when Hetty came 
 in, flushed and warm. She was alone and she had 
 been walking rapidly. 
 
 Oh, I am so sorry to be late,” she apologised, 
 darting a look of anxiety at Sara. We grew care- 
 less with time. Am I shockingly late ? ” 
 
 She was shaking hands with Mrs. Redmond Wran- 
 dall as she spoke. Leslie and Vivian stood by, rigidly 
 awaiting their turn. Neither appeared to be espe- 
 cially cordial. 
 
 ^‘What is the passing of an hour, my dear,” said 
 the old lady, to one who is young and can spare it? ” 
 
 I did not expect you — I mean to say, nothing 
 was said about luncheon, was there, Sara.^ ” She was 
 in a pretty state of confusion. 
 
 “ No,” said Leslie, breaking in ; we butted in, that’s 
 all. How are you ? ” He clasped her hand and bent 
 over it. She was regarding him with slightly dilated 
 eyes. He misinterpreted the steady scrutiny. Oh, 
 it will all peel off in a day or two,” he explained, going 
 a shade redder. 
 
 When did you return ? ” she asked. “ I thought 
 to-morrow was — ” 
 
 Leslie never has any to-morrows, Miss Castle- 
 ton,” explained Vivian. He always does to-mor- 
 row’s work to-day. That’s why he never has any 
 troubles ahead of him.” 
 
 What rot ! ” exclaimed Leslie. 
 
253 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Where is Mr. Booth.?” inquired Sara. Wouldn’t 
 he come in, Hetty ? ” 
 
 — I didn’t think to ask him to stop for lunch- 
 eon,” she replied, and then hurried off to her room to 
 make herself presentable. 
 
 Don’t be long,” called out Sara. 
 
 We are starving,” added Vivian. 
 
 Vivian ! ” exclaimed her mother, in a shocked voice. 
 
 “ Well, I am,” declared her daughter promptly. 
 
 You know you never eat anything in the middle 
 of the day,” said her mother, frowning. As Sara was 
 paying no attention to their remarks, Mrs. Wrandall 
 was obliged to deliver the supplemental explanation 
 to Leslie, who hadn’t the remotest interest in the mat- 
 ter. She’s so silly about getting fat.” 
 
 Hetty was in a state of nervous excitement during 
 the luncheon. The encounter with Booth had not re- 
 sulted at all as she had fancied it would. She had 
 betrayed herself in a most disconcerting manner, and 
 now was more deeply involved than ever before. She 
 had been determined at the outset, she had failed, and 
 now he had a claim — an incontestable claim against 
 her. She found it difficult to meet Sara’s steady, ques- 
 tioning gaze. She wanted to be alone. 
 
 I suppose you have heard nothing recent from 
 poor Lord Murgatroyd,” Mrs. Wrandall was saying 
 to her, in a most sympathetic tone. 
 
 Hetty scarcely grasped the importance of the re- 
 mark. She looked rather blankly at their guest. 
 
 Sara stepped into the breach. What do the morn- 
 ing despatches say, Mrs. Wrandall.? ” 
 
 He is sinking rapidly, I fear. Of course, his ex- 
 treme age is against him. How old is he. Miss Cas- 
 tleton? 
 
SARA WRANDALL FINDS THE TRUTH 253 
 
 I — I haven’t the remotest idea, Mrs. Wrandali,” 
 said the girl. He is very, very old.” 
 
 Ninety-two, the Sun says,” supplied Vivian. 
 
 There was an unaccountable silence. 
 
 I suppose there is — ah — really no hope,” said 
 Mrs. Redmond Wrandall at last. 
 
 I fear not,” said Hetty composedly. Except 
 for the heirs-at-law.” 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall sat up a little straighter in her 
 chair. Dear me,” she said. 
 
 They’ve been waiting for a good many years,” 
 commented Hetty, without emotion. Of course, 
 Mrs. Wrandall, you understand that I am not one 
 of those ’who will profit by his death. The estate is 
 entailed. I am quite outside the walls.” 
 
 I did not know the — ah — ” 
 
 My father may come in for a small interest. He 
 is in England at present on furlough. But there are 
 a great many near relatives to be fed before the bowl 
 of plenty gets to him.” 
 
 Dear, dear!” murmured Mrs. Wrandall, quite ap- 
 palled by her way of putting it. Leslie looked at 
 her and coughed. What a delicious dressing you 
 have for these alligator pears, Sara,” she went on, 
 veering quickly. You must tell me how it is made.” 
 
 After luncheon, Leslie drew Sara aside. 
 
 must say she doesn’t seem especially overjo 3 ^ed 
 to see me,” he growled. She’s as cool as ice.” 
 
 What do you expect, Leslie ? ” she demanded with 
 some asperity. 
 
 I can’t stand this much longer, Sara,” he said. 
 
 Don’t you see how things are going ? She’s losing 
 her heart to Booth.” 
 
 I don’t see how we can prevent it.” 
 
254 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 By gad. I’ll have another try at it — to-night. 
 I say, has she said — anything? ” 
 
 She pities you,” said she, a malicious .joy in her 
 soul. That’s akin to something else, you know.” 
 Confound it all, I don’t want to be pitied ! ” 
 
 Then I’d advise you to defer your ^ try ’ at it,” 
 she remarked. 
 
 ^^I’m mad about her, Sara. I can’t sleep, I can’t 
 think, I can’t — yes, I can eat, but it doesn’t taste 
 right to me. I’ve just got to have it settled. Why, 
 people are beginning to notice the change in me. They 
 say all sorts of things. About my liver, and all that 
 sort of thing. I’m going to settle it to-night. It’s 
 been nearly three weeks now. She’s surely had time 
 to think it over; how much better everything will be 
 for her, and all that. She’s no fool, Sara. And do 
 you know what Vivian’s doing this very instant over 
 there in the corner? She’s inviting her to spend a 
 fortnight over at our place. If she comes, — well, that 
 means the engagement will be announced at once.” 
 
 Sara did not marvel at his assurance in the face of 
 what had gone before. She knew him too well. In 
 spite of the original rebuff, he was thoroughly satis- 
 fied in his own mind that Hetty Castleton would not 
 be such a fool as to refuse him the second time. 
 
 “ It is barely possible, Leslie,” she said, that she 
 may consider Brandon Booth quite as good a catch 
 as you, and infinitely better looking at the present 
 moment.” 
 
 It’s this beastly sunburn,” he lamented, rubbing 
 his nose gently, thinking first of his person. An in- 
 stant later he was thinking of the other half of the 
 declaration. That’s just what I’ve been afraid of,” 
 he said. I told you what would happen if that por- 
 
SARA WRANDALL FINDS THE TRUTH 255 
 
 trait nonsense went on for ever. It’s your fault, Sara.” 
 
 But I have reason to believe she will not accept 
 him, if it goes so far as that. You are quite safe 
 in that direction.” 
 
 ’Gad, I’d hate to risk it,” he muttered. ^ I have 
 a feeling she’s in love with him.” 
 
 Vivian approached. Sara, you must let me have 
 Miss Castleton for the first two weeks in July,” she 
 said serenely. 
 
 “ I can’t do it, Vivian,” said the other promptly. 
 
 I can’t bear the thought of being alone in this big 
 old barn of a place. Nice of you to want her, but — ” 
 
 Oh, don’t be selfish, Sara,” cried Vivian. 
 
 You don’t know how much I depend on her,” said 
 Sara. 
 
 I’d ask you over, too, dear, if there weren’t so 
 many others coming. I don’t know where we’re going 
 to put them. You understand, don’t you.^” 
 
 “ Perfectly,” said her sister-in-law, smiling. 
 
 But I’ve been counting on — Hetty.” 
 
 I say, Sara,” broke in Leslie, you could go up 
 to Bar Harbour with the Williamsons at that time. 
 Tell her about the invitation, Vivie.” 
 
 It isn’t necessary,” said Sara coldly. I scarcely 
 know the Williamsons.” She hesitated an instant and 
 then went on with sardonic dismay : The37’re in trade, 
 you know.” 
 
 That’s nothing against ’em,” protested he. 
 ‘^Awfully jolly people — really ripping. Ain’t they, 
 Viv.? ” 
 
 “ I don’t know them well enough to say,” said 
 Vivian, turning away. I only know we’re all snobs 
 of the worst sort.” 
 
 ‘‘Just a minute, Viv,” he called out. “What does 
 
THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Miss Castleton say about coming? It was an eager 
 question. Much depended on the reply. 
 
 I haven’t asked her,” said his sister succinctly, 
 
 ^ How could I, without first consulting Sara?” 
 
 Then, you don’t intend to ask her? ” 
 
 ^ Certainly not.” 
 
 Oh, I’ll fix it up with Sara,” said he confidently. 
 ‘^Eh, Sara?” 
 
 I’d suggest that you ^ fix it up ’ with Miss Cas- 
 tleton,” said Sara pointedly. 
 
 Vivian shot a swift glance over her shoulder at her 
 sister-in-law, and then broke into a good-humoured 
 laugh. She joined Hetty and Mrs. Redmond Wran- 
 dali. 
 
 Sometimes I feel that I really like Vivian,” ob- 
 seiwed Sara, as much to herself as to Leslie. She’s 
 above the board, at least.” 
 
 Disagreeable as the devil at times, though,” said 
 he, biting his lip. 
 
 After the Wrandalls had departed, Sara took Hetty 
 off to her room. The girl knew what was coming. 
 
 Hetty,” said the older woman, facing her after 
 she had closed the door of her boudoir, what is going 
 on between you and Brandon Booth? I must have 
 the truth. Are you doing anything foolish? ” 
 
 Foolish ? Heaven help me, no ! It — it is a 
 tragedy,” cried Fletty, meeting her gaze with one of 
 utter despair. 
 
 ^^What has happened? Tell me!” 
 
 ®^What am I to do, Sara darling? He — -he hm 
 told me that he^ — he — ” 
 
 Loves you?” 
 
 Yes.” 
 
 And you have told him that his love is returned? ” 
 
SARA WRANDAIX FINDS THE TRUTH 267 
 
 I couldn’t help it, I was carried away. I did 
 not mean to let him see that I — ” 
 
 You are such a novice in the business of love/^ 
 said Sara sneeringly. You are in the habit of being 
 carried away, I fear.” 
 
 ^^Oh, Sara!” 
 
 You must put a stop to all this at once. How 
 can you think of marrying him, Hetty Glynn? Send 
 him — ” 
 
 I do not intend to marry him,” said the girl, sud- 
 denly calm and dignified. 
 
 I am to draw but one conclusion, I suppose,” said 
 the other, regarding the girl intently. 
 
 What do you mean ? ” 
 
 Is it necessary to ask that question? ” 
 
 The puzzled expression remained in the girl’s eyes 
 for a time, and then slowly gave way to one of ab- 
 solute horror. 
 
 How dare you suggest such a thing? ” she cried, 
 turning pale, then crimson. How dare you?” 
 
 Sara laughed shortly. Isn’t the inference a nat- 
 ural one? You are forgetting yourself.” 
 
 “ I understand,” said the girl, through pallid lips. 
 Her eyes were dark with pain and misery. “You 
 think I am altogether bad.” She drooped perceptibly. 
 
 “ You went to Burton’s Inn,” sententiously. 
 
 But, Sara, you must believe me. I did not know 
 he was — married. For God’s sake, do me the jus- 
 tice to — ” 
 
 “But you went there with him,” insisted the other, 
 her eyes hard as steel. “ It doesn’t matter whether 
 he was married — or free. You went.^’ 
 ir Hetty threw herself upon her companion’s breast 
 and wound her strong young arms about her. 
 
268 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Sara, Sara, you must let me explain — you must 
 let me tell you everything. Don’t stop me! You have 
 refused to hear my plea — ” 
 
 And I still refuse ! ” cried Sara, throwing her off 
 angrily, Good God, do you think I will listen to 
 you? If you utter another word, I will — strangle 
 you ! ” 
 
 Hetty shrank back, terrified. Slowly she moved 
 backward in the direction of the door, never taking her 
 eyes from the impassioned face of her protector. 
 
 Don’t, Sara, please don’t ! ” she begged. Don’t 
 look at me like that! I promise — I promise. For- 
 give me! I would not give you an instant’s pain for 
 all the world. You would suffer, you would — ” 
 
 Sara suddenly put her hands over her eyes. A 
 single moan escaped her lips — a hoarse gasp of pain. 
 
 Dearest ! ” cried Hetty, springing to her side. 
 
 Sara threw her head up and met her with a cold, 
 repelling look. 
 
 ^^Wait!” she commanded. The time has come 
 when you should know what is in my mind, and has 
 been for months and months. It concerns you. I ex- 
 pect you to marry Leslie Wrandall.” 
 
 Hetty stopped short. 
 
 “ How can you jest with me, Sara? ” she cried, sud- 
 denly indignant. 
 
 I am not jesting,” said Sara levelly. 
 
 ^^You — you — really mean — what you have just 
 said?” The puzzled look gave way to one of revul- 
 sion. A great shudder swept over her. 
 
 Leslie Wrandall must pay his brother’s debt to 
 3^ou.” 
 
 My God ! ” fell from the girl’s stiff lips. You — ^ 
 
 you must be going mad — - mad ! ” 
 
SARA WRANDALL FINDS THE TRUTH 259 
 
 Sara laughed softly. I have meant it almost from 
 the beginning,” she said. It came to my mind the 
 day that Challis was buried. It has never been out 
 of it for an instant since that day. Now you under- 
 stand.” 
 
 If she expected Hetty to fall into a fit of weeping, 
 to collapse, to plead with her for mercy, she was soon 
 to find herself mistaken. The girl straightened up 
 suddenly and met her gaze with one in which there 
 was the fierce determination. Her eyes were steady, 
 her bosom heaved. 
 
 And I have loved you so devotedly — so blindly,” 
 she said, in low tones of scorn, You have been hat- 
 ing me all these months while I thought you were 
 loving me. What a fool I have been! I might have 
 known. You couldnH love me.” 
 
 When Leslie asks you to-night to marry him, you 
 are to say that you will do so,” said Sara, betraying 
 no sign of having heard the bitter words. 
 
 I shall refuse, Sara,” said Hetty, every vestige of 
 colour gone from her face. 
 
 There is an alternative,” announced the other de- 
 liberately. 
 
 ^^You will expose me to — him? To his family?” 
 
 I shall turn you over to them, to let them do what 
 they will with you. If you go as his wife, the secret 
 is safe. If not, they may have you as you really are, 
 to destroy, to annihilate. Take your choice, my 
 dear.” 
 
 And you, Sara?” asked the girl quietly. ‘^What 
 explanation will you have to offer for all these months 
 of protection ? ” 
 
 Her companion stared. Has the prospect no ter- 
 ror for you? ” 
 
THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 260 
 
 Not now. Not since I have found you out. The 
 thing I have feared all along has come to pass. I am 
 relieved, now that you show me just where I truly 
 stand. But, I asked: what of you? ” 
 
 The world is more likely to applaud than to curse 
 me, Hetty. It likes a new sensation. My change of 
 heart will appear quite natural.” 
 
 Are you sure that the world will applaud your 
 real design? You hate the Wrandalls. Will they be 
 charitable toward you when the truth is given out? 
 Will Leslie applaud you? Listen, please: I am try- 
 ing to save you from yourself, Sara. You will fail 
 in everything you have hoped for. You will be more 
 accursed than I. The world will pity me, it may even 
 forgive me. It will listen to my story, which is more 
 than you will do, and it will believe me. Ah, I am 
 not afraid now. At first I was in terror. I had no 
 hope of escape. All that is past. To-day I am 
 ready to take my chances with the big, generous world. 
 Men will try me, and men are not made of stone and 
 steel. They punish but they do not avenge when they 
 sit in jury boxes. They are not women! Good God, 
 Sara, is there a man living to-day who could have 
 planned this thing you have cherished all these 
 months? Not one! And all men will curse you for 
 it, even though they send me to prison or to the — 
 chair. But they will not condemn me. They will hear 
 my story and they will set me free. And then, what 
 of you ? ” 
 
 Sara stood perfectly rigid, regarding this earnest 
 reasoner with growing wonder. 
 
 My dear,” she said, you would better be think- 
 ing of yourself, not of me.” 
 
 Why, when I tell my story, the world will hate 
 
SARA WRANDALL FINDS THE TRUTH 261 
 
 you, Sara Wrandall. You have helped me, you have 
 been good to me, no matter what sinister motive you 
 may have had in doing so. It is my turn to help 
 you.” 
 
 To help me ! ” cried Sara, astonished in sp^te of 
 herself. 
 
 Yes. To save you from execration — and even 
 worse.” 
 
 There is no moral wrong in marriage with Leslie 
 Wrandall,” said Sara, returning to her own project. 
 
 No moral wrong ! ” cried Hetty, aghast. No, 
 I suppose not,” she went on, a moment later. It is 
 something much deeper, much blacker than moral 
 wrong. There is no word for it. And if I marry 
 him, what then.^ Wherein lies your triumph.^ You 
 can’t mean that — God in Heaven ! You would not 
 go to them with the truth when it was too late for 
 him to — to cast me off ! ” 
 
 I am no such fool as that. The secret would be 
 for ever safe in that event. My triumph, as you call 
 it, we will not discuss.” 
 
 How you must hate me, to be willing to do such 
 an infamous thing to me 1 ” 
 
 I do not hate you, Hetty.” 
 
 In heaven’s name, what do you call it.?” 
 ‘^Justification. Listen to me now. I am saying 
 this for your good sense to seize and appreciate. 
 Would it be right in me to allow you to marry any 
 other man, knowing all that I know.? There is but 
 one man you can in justice marry: the one who can 
 repair the wreck that his own blood created. Not 
 Brandon Booth, nor any man save Leslie Wrandall. 
 He is the man who must paj\” 
 
 “ I do not intend to marry,” said Hetty. 
 
262 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 But Leslie will marry some one, and I intend that 
 it shall be you. He shall marry the ex-chorus girl, 
 the artist’s model, the — the prostitute! Wait! Don’t 
 fly at me like that! Don’t assume that look of vir- 
 tuous horror ! Let me say what I have to say. This 
 much of your story shall they know, and no more. 
 They will be proud of you ! ” 
 
 Hetty’s eyes were blazing. You use that name — 
 you call me that — and yet you have kissed me, ca- 
 ressed me — loved me ! ” she cried hoarse with passion. 
 
 He will ask you to-night for the second time. 
 You will accept him. That is all.” 
 
 “ You must take back what jon have just said to 
 me — of me, — Sara Wrandall. You must unsay it! 
 You must beg my pardon for that! ” 
 
 I draw no line between mistress and prostitute.” 
 
 «But I—” 
 
 Enough ! ” 
 
 You wrong me vilely! You must let me — ” 
 
 I have an excellent memory, and it serves me well.” 
 
 Hetty suddenly threw herself upon the couch and 
 buried her face in her arms. Great sobs shook her 
 slender frame. 
 
 Sara stood over her and watched for a long time 
 with pitiless eyes. Then a queer, uneasy, wondering 
 light began to develop in those dark, ominous eyes. 
 She leaned forward the better to listen to the choked, 
 inarticulate words that were pouring from the girl’s 
 lips. At last, moved by some power she could not 
 have accounted for, she knelt beside the quivering body, 
 and laid her hand, almost timorously, upon the girl’s 
 shoulder. 
 
 Hetty, — Hetty, if I have wronged you in — in 
 thinking that of you, — I — I — ” she began brokenlyr 
 
SARA WRANDALL FINDS THE TRUTH 
 
 Then she lifted her eyes, and the harsh light tried to 
 steal back into them. No, no! What am I saying? 
 What a fool I am to give way — 
 
 You have wronged me — terribly, terribly!” came 
 in smothered tones from the cushions. I did not 
 dream you thought that of me.” 
 
 What was I to think ? ” 
 
 Hetty lifted her head and cried out: You would 
 not let me speak! You refused to hear my story. 
 You have been thinking this of me all along, holding 
 it against me, damning me with it, and I have been 
 closer to you than — My God, what manner of 
 woman are you ? ” 
 
 Sara seized her hands and held them in a fierce, 
 tense grip. Her eyes were glowing with a strange fire. 
 
 Tell me — tell me now, on your soul, Hetty ; — 
 were you — were you — ” 
 
 ‘^No! No! On my soul, no!” 
 
 Look into my eyes ! ” 
 
 The girl’s eyes did not falter. She met the dark, 
 penetrating gaze of the other and, though dimmed by 
 tears, her blue eyes were steadfast and resolute. Sara 
 seemed to be searching the very soul of her, the soul 
 that laid itself bare, denuded of every vestige of guile. 
 
 I — I think I believe you,” came slowly from the 
 lips of the searcher. ^^You are looking the truth. 
 I can see it. Hetty, Hetty, I — I don’t understand 
 myself. It is so — so overwhelming, so tremendous. 
 It is so incredible. Am I really believing you? Is 
 it possible that I have been wrong in — ” 
 
 Let me tell you everything,” cried the girl, sud- 
 denly throwing her arms about her. 
 
 Not now! Wait! Give me time to think. Go 
 away now. I want to be alone.” She arose and 
 
£64 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 pushed the girl toward the door. Her eyes were fixed 
 on her in a wondering, puzzled sort of way, and she 
 was shaking her head as if trying to discredit the 
 new emotion that had come to displace the one cre- 
 ated ages ago. 
 
 Slowly Hetty Castleton retreated toward the door. 
 With her hand on the knob, she paused. 
 
 After what has happened, Sara, you must not ex- 
 pect me to stay with you any longer. I cannot. You 
 may give me up to the law, but — ” 
 
 Some one was tapping gently on the door. 
 
 Shall I see who it is ? ” asked the girl, after a 
 long period of silence. 
 
 ‘^Yes.’’ 
 
 It was Murray. “ Mr. Leslie has returned, Miss 
 Castleton, and asks if he may see you at once. He 
 says it is very important.” 
 
 Tell him I will be down in a few minutes, Murray.” 
 
 After the door closed, she waited until the footman’s 
 steps died away on the stairs. 
 
 I shall say no to him, Sara, and I shall say to 
 him that you will tell him why I cannot be his wife. 
 Do you understand.^ Are jmu listening to me? ” 
 
 Sara turned away without a word or look of re- 
 sponse. 
 
 Hetty quietly opened the door and went out. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE SECOND ENCOUNTER 
 
 Booth trudged rapidly homeward after leaving Hetty 
 at the lodge. He was throbbing all over with the 
 love of her. The thrill of conquest was in his blood. 
 She had raised a mysterious barrier; all the more zest 
 to the inevitable victory that would be his. He would 
 delight in overcoming obstacles — the bigger the bet- 
 ter, — for his heart was valiant and the prize no 
 smaller than those which the ancient knights went out 
 to battle for in the lists of love. He had held her in 
 his arms, he had kissed her, he had breathed of her 
 fragrant hair, he had felt the beating of her frightened 
 heart against his body. With the memory of all this 
 to lift him to the heights of divine exaltation, he was 
 unable to conjure up a finer triumph than the winning 
 of her after the manner of the knights of old, to whom 
 opposition was life, denial a boon. 
 
 It was enough for the present to know that she 
 loved him. 
 
 What if she were Hetty Glynn? What if she had 
 been an artist’s model? The look he had had into the 
 soul of her through those pure blue eyes was all-con- 
 vincing. She was worthy of the noblest love. 
 
 After luncheon — served with some exasperation 
 by Patrick an hour and a half later than usual — 
 he smoked his pipe on the porch and stared reminis- 
 cently at the shifting clouds above the tree-tops, and 
 with a tenderness about the lips that must have sur- 
 prised and gratified the stubby, ill-used brier, inan- 
 imate confederate in many a lofty plot. He recalled 
 
 265 
 
266 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 all she had said to him in that sylvan confessionaij 
 and was content. His family? Pooh! He had a soul 
 of his own. It needed its mate. 
 
 He did not see the Wrandall motor at his garden 
 gate until a lusty voice brought him down from the 
 clouds into the range of earthly sounds. Then he 
 dashed out to the gate, bareheaded and coatless, for- 
 getting that he had been sitting in the obscurity of 
 trailing vines and purple blossoms the while he thought 
 of her. 
 
 Leslie was sitting on the wide seat between his 
 mother and sister. 
 
 Glad to see you back, old man,’’ said Booth, reach- 
 ing in to shake hands with him. Day early, aren’t 
 you? Good-afternoon, Mrs. Wrandall. Won’t you 
 come in ? ” 
 
 He looked at Vivian as he gave the invitation. 
 
 ‘^No, thanks,” she replied. Won’t you come to 
 dinner this evening? ” 
 
 He hesitated. I’m not quite sure whether I can, 
 Vivian. I’ve got a half-way sort of — ” 
 
 Oh, do, old chap,” cut in Leslie, more as a com- 
 mand than an entreaty. Sorry I can’t be there my- 
 self, but you’ll fare quite as well without me. I’m 
 dining at Sara’s. Wants my private ear about one 
 thing and another — see what I mean? ” 
 
 We shall expect you, Brandon,” said Mrs. Wran- 
 dall, fixing him with her lorgnette. 
 
 I’ll come, thank you,” said he. 
 
 He felt disgustingly transparent under that inquisi- 
 tive glass, 
 
 Wrandall stepped out of the car. I’ll stop off for 
 a chat with Brandy, mother.” 
 
 Shall I send the car back, dear? 
 
THE SECOND ENCOUNTER 
 
 267 
 
 Never mind. I’ll walk down.’’ 
 
 The two men turned in at the gate as the car sped 
 away, 
 
 ^^Well,” said Booth, ^St’s good to see you. Pat!” 
 He called through a basement window. Come up and 
 take the gentleman’s order.” 
 
 No drink for me, Brandy. I’ve been in the tem- 
 perance State of Maine for two weeks. One week more 
 of it and I’d have been completely pickled. I shall 
 always remember Maine.” He dropped into a broad 
 wicker chair and felt tenderly of his nose. ’Gad, I’m 
 not quite sure that the sun did it, old man. It was 
 dreadful.” 
 
 Booth grinned. Do any fishing ” 
 
 “ Yes. The first day. Oh, you needn’t look at me 
 like that. I’m back in the narrow path.” After a 
 moment of painful reflection, he added, We didn’t 
 see water after the first day. I’m just beginning to 
 get used to the taste of it again.” 
 
 Never mind, Pat,” said Booth, as the servant ap- 
 peared in the doorway. Mr. Wrandall is not suf- 
 fering.” 
 
 You know I’m not a drinking man,” declared Les- 
 lie, a pathetic note of appeal in his voice. I hate 
 the stuff*.” 
 
 It is a good thing to let alone.” 
 
 And don’t I let it alone.? You never saw me tight 
 in your life.” 
 
 Booth sat down on the porch rail, hooked his toes 
 in the supports and proceeded to fill his pipe. Then 
 he struck a match and applied it, Leslie watching him 
 with moody eyes. 
 
 How do you like the portrait, old man.?” he in- 
 quired between punctuating puffs. 
 
S68 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 “ lEs bully. Sargent never did anything finer. 
 Ripping.” 
 
 I owe it all to you, Les.” 
 
 ^^Tome?” 
 
 You induced her to sit to me.” 
 
 So I did,” said Leslie sourly. I was Mr. Fix-it 
 sure enough.” He allowed a short interval to elapse 
 before taking the plunge. I suppose, old chap, if 
 I should happen to need your valuable services as 
 best man in the near future, you’d not disappoint me? ” 
 
 Booth eyed him quizzically. I trust you’re not 
 throwing yourself away, Les,” he said drily. I mean 
 to say, on some one — well, some one not quite up to 
 the mark.” 
 
 Leslie regarded him with some severity. Of course 
 not, old chap. What the devil put that into your 
 head ? ” 
 
 I thought that possibly you’d been making a 
 chump of yourself up in the Maine woods.” 
 
 Piffle ! Don’t be an ass. What’s the sense pre- 
 tending you don’t know who she is?” 
 
 “ I suppose it’s Hetty Castleton,” said Booth, puff- 
 ing away at his pipe. 
 
 ^'Who else?” 
 
 Think she’ll have you, old man?” asked Booth, 
 after a moment. 
 
 I don’t know,” replied the other, a bit dashed. 
 
 You might wish me luck, though.” 
 
 Booth knocked the burnt tobacco from the bowl of 
 his pipe. A serious line appeared between his eyes. 
 He was a fair-minded fellow, without guile, without 
 a single treacherous instinct. 
 
 I can’t wish you luck, Les,” he said slowly. You 
 see I’m — I’m in love with her myself.” 
 
THE SECOND ENCOUNTER 
 
 269 
 
 “ The devil ! ” Leslie sat bolt upright and glared 
 at him. I might have known ! And — and is she 
 in love with you? ’’ 
 
 My dear fellow, you reveal considerable lack of 
 tact in asking that question.’^ 
 
 ^^What I want to know is this,” exclaimed Wran- 
 dall, very pale but very hot : “ is she going to marry 
 you? ” 
 
 Booth smiled. I’ll be perfectly frank with you. 
 She says she won’t.” 
 
 Leslie gulped. So you’ve asked her? ” 
 
 Obviously.” 
 
 ^^And she said she wouldn’t? She refused you? 
 Turned you down? ” His little moustache shot up at 
 the ends and a joyous, triumphant laugh broke from 
 his lips. Oh, this is rich ! Ha, ha ! Turned you 
 down, eh? Poor old Brandy! You’re my best friend, 
 and dammit I’m sorry. I mean to say,” he went on 
 in some embarrassment, I’m sorry for you. Of 
 course, you can hardly expect me to — er — ” 
 
 Certainly not,” accepted Booth amiably. I quite 
 understand.” 
 
 Then, since she’s refused you, you mi^ht wish me 
 better luck.” 
 
 That would mean giving up hope.” 
 
 ^^Hope?” exclaimed Leslie quickly. ‘^You don’t 
 mean to say you’ll annoy her with your — ” 
 
 No, I shall not annoy her,” replied his friend, 
 shaking his head. 
 
 Well, I should hope not,” said Leslie with a scowl. 
 
 Turned you down, eh? ’Pon my soul!” He ap- 
 peared to be relishing the idea of it. Sorry, old 
 chap, but I suppose you understand just what that 
 means.” 
 
270 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Booth’s lips hardened for an instant, then relaxed 
 into a queer, almost pitying smile. 
 
 And you want me to be your best man?” he said 
 reflectively. 
 
 Leslie arose. His chest seemed to swell a little; 
 assuredly he was breathing much easier. He assumed 
 an air of compassion. 
 
 I shan’t insist, old fellow, if you feel you’d rather 
 not — er — See what I mean?” It then occurred to 
 him to utter a word or two of kindly advice. I 
 shouldn’t go on hoping if I were you, Brandy. ’Pon 
 my soul, I shouldn’t. Take it like a man. I know 
 it hurts but — Pooh ! What’s the use aggravating 
 the pain by butting against a stone wall?” 
 
 His companion looked out over the tree-tops, his 
 hands in his trouser pockets, and it must be confessed 
 that his manner was not that of one who is oppressed 
 by despair. 
 
 I think I’m taking it like a man, Les,” he said. 
 
 I only hope you’ll take it as nicely if she says nay 
 to you.” 
 
 An uneasy look leaped into Leslie’s face. He 
 seemed noticeably less corpulent about the chest. He 
 wondered if Booth knew anything about his initial 
 venture. A question rose to his lips, but he thought 
 quickly and held it back. Instead, he glanced at his 
 watch. 
 
 I must be off. See you to-morrow, I hope.” 
 
 So long,” said Booth, stopping at the top of the 
 steps while his visitor skipped down to the gate with 
 a nimbleness that suggested the formation of a sud- 
 den resolve. 
 
 Leslie did not waste time in parting inanities; he 
 strode off briskly in the direction of home, but not 
 
THE SECOND ENCOUNTER 
 
 271 
 
 without a furtive glance out of the tail of his eye as 
 he disappeared beyond the hedge-row at the end of 
 Booth’s garden. That gentleman was standing where 
 he had left him, and was filling his pipe once more. 
 
 The day was warm, and Leslie was in a dripping 
 perspiration when he reached home. He did not en- 
 ter the house but made his way direct to the garage. 
 
 Get out the car at once. Brown,” was his order. 
 
 Three minutes later he was being driven over the 
 lower road toward Southlook, taking good care to 
 avoid Booth’s place by the matter of a mile or more. 
 He was in a fever of hope and eagerness. It was 
 very plain to him why she had refused to marry Booth. 
 The iron was hot. He didn’t intend to lose any time 
 in striking. 
 
 And now we know why he came again to Sara’s in 
 the middle of a blazing afternoon, instead of waiting 
 until the more seductive shades of night had fallen, 
 when the moon sat serene in the seat of the Mighty. 
 
 • ••... 
 
 He didn’t have to wait long for Hetty. Up to the 
 instant of her appearance in the door, he had revelled 
 in the thought that the way was now paved with roses. 
 But with her entrance, he felt his confidence and cour- 
 age slipping. Perhaps that may explain the abrupt- 
 ness with which he proceeded to go about the business 
 in hand. 
 
 I couldn’t wait till to-night,” he explained as she 
 came slowly across the room toward him. She was 
 half way to him before he awoke to the fact that he 
 was standing perfectly still. Then he started for- 
 ward, somehow impelled to meet her at least half- 
 way. ‘^You’ll forgive me, Hetty, if I have disturbed 
 you.” 
 
272 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 I was not lying down, Mr, Wrandall,” she said 
 quietly. There was nothing ominous in the words, but 
 he experienced a sudden sensation of cold. Won^t 
 you sit down.^ Or would you rather go out to the 
 terrace? ” 
 
 It’s much more comfortable here, if you don’t 
 mind. I — I suppose you know what it is I want to 
 say to you. You — ” 
 
 Yes,” she interrupted wearily ; and knowing as 
 much, Mr. Wrandall, it would not be fair of me to 
 let you go on.” 
 
 Not fair? ” he said, in honest amazement. Butj 
 my dear, I — ” 
 
 “ Please, Mr. Wrandall,” she exclaimed, with a 
 pleading little smile that would have touched the heart 
 of any one but Leslie. Please don’t go on. It is 
 quite as impossible now as it was before. I have not 
 changed.” 
 
 He could only say, mechanically: ** You haven’t?’^ 
 
 No. I am sorry if you have thought that I might 
 come to — ” 
 
 Think, for heaven’s sake, think what you are do^ 
 ing ! ” he cried, feeling for the edge of the table with 
 a support-seeking hand. I — I had Sara’s word 
 that you were not — 
 
 Unfortunately Sara cannot speak for me in a 
 matter of this kind. Thank you for the honour you 
 would — ” 
 
 ‘‘ Honour be hanged ! ” he blurted out, losing his 
 temper. I love you ! It’s a purely selfish thing with 
 me, and I’m blowed if I consider it an honour to be 
 refused by any woman. I — ” 
 
 Mr. Wrandall!” she cried, fixing him with her 
 flashing, indignant eyes. You are forgetting your- 
 
THE SECOND ENCOUNTER SI'S 
 
 self.” She was standing very straight and slim and 
 imperious before him. 
 
 He quailed. I — I beg your pardon. I — I — ” 
 
 There is nothing more to be said,” she went on 
 icily. Good-bye.” 
 
 Would you mind telling me whether there is any 
 one else.?” he asked, as he turned toward the door. 
 
 Do you really feel that you have the right to ask 
 that question, Mr. Wrandall? ” 
 
 He wet his lips with his tongue. Then, there is 
 some one ! ” he cried, rapping the table with his 
 knuckles. He didn’t realise till afterward how vig- 
 orously he rapped. Some confounded English no- 
 body, I suppose.” 
 
 She smiled, not unkindly. There is no English 
 nobody, if that answers your question.” 
 
 Then, will you be kind enough to offer a reason 
 for not giving me a fair chance in a clear field? I 
 think it’s due — ” 
 
 “ Can’t you see how you are distressing me? Must 
 I again go through that horrid scene in the garden? 
 Can’t you take a plain no for an answer?” 
 
 Good Lord ! ” he gasped, and in those two words 
 he revealed the complete overturning of a life-long 
 estimate of himself. It seemed to take more than his 
 breath away. 
 
 Good-bye,” she said with finality. 
 
 He stared at the door through which she disap- 
 peared, his hopes, his conceit, his self-regard trailing 
 after her with shameless disloyalty to the standards 
 he had set for them, and then, with a rather ghastly 
 smile of self-commiseration on his lips, he slipped out 
 of the house, jumped into the motor car, and gave a 
 brief but explicit command to the chauffeur, who lost 
 
274^ THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 no time in assisting his master to turn tail in igno- 
 minious flight. 
 
 Hetty was gloomily but resolutely employed in lay- 
 ing out certain of her personal belongings, prepara- 
 tory to packing them for departure, when Sara entered 
 her room. 
 
 They regarded each other steadily, questioningly 
 for a short space of time. 
 
 “ Leslie has just called up to ask ^ what the devil ’ I 
 meant by letting him make a fool of himself,’’ said 
 Sara, with a peculiar little twisted smile on her lips. 
 
 Hetty offered no comment, but after a moment 
 gravely and rather wistfully called attention to her 
 present occupation by a significant flaunt of her hand 
 and a saddened smile. 
 
 “ I see,” said Sara, without emotion. If you 
 choose to go, Hetty, I shall not oppose you.” 
 
 My position here is a false one, Sara. I prefer 
 to go.” 
 
 This morning I should have held a sword over 
 your head.” 
 
 It is very difficult for me to realise all that has 
 happened.” 
 
 You are free to depart. You are free in every 
 sense of the word. Your future rests with yourself, 
 my dear.” 
 
 It hurts me more than I can tell to feel that you 
 have been hating me all these months.” 
 
 It hurts me — now.” 
 
 Hetty walked to the window and looked out. 
 
 “ 'V^Hiat are your plans.?” Sara inquired, after an 
 interval. 
 
 I shall seek employment — and wait for you to 
 ac*l.” 
 
THE SECOND ENCOUNTER 
 
 275 
 
 You mean?” 
 
 I shall not run away, Sara. Nor do I intend to 
 reveal myself to the authorities. I am not morally 
 guilty of crime. A year ago I feared the consequences 
 of my deed, but I have learned much since then. I 
 was a stranger in a new world. In England we have 
 been led to believe that you lynch women here as readily 
 as you lynch men. I now know better than that. 
 From you alone I learned my greatest lesson. You 
 revealed to me the true meaning of human kindness. 
 You shielded me who should not. Even now I believe 
 that your first impulse was a tender one. I shall not 
 forget it, Sara. You will live to regret the baser 
 thought that came later on. I have loved you — yes, 
 almost as a good dog loves his master. It is not for 
 me to tell the story of that night and all these months 
 to the world. I would not be betraying myself, but 
 you. You would be called upon to explain, not I. And 
 you would be the one to suffer. When you met me on 
 the road that night I was on my way back to the inn 
 to give myself into custody. You have made it im- 
 possible for me to do so now. My lips are sealed. It 
 rests with you, Sara.” 
 
 Sara joined her in the broad window. There was 
 a strangely exalted look in her face. A gilded bird- 
 cage hung suspended in the casement. Without a 
 word, she threw open the window screen. The gay lit- 
 tle canary in the gilded cage cocked his head and 
 watched her with alert eyes. Then she reached up and 
 gently removed the cage from its fastenings. Putting 
 it down upon the window sill, she opened the tiny door. 
 The bird hopped about his prison in a state of great 
 excitement. 
 
 Hetty looked on, fascinated. 
 
276 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 At last a yellow streak shot out through the open 
 door and an instant later resolved itself into the bob- 
 bing, fluttering dicky-bird that had lived in a cage all 
 its life without an hour of freedom. For a few sec- 
 onds it circled over the tree-tops and then alighted 
 on one of the branches. One might well have imagined 
 that he could hear its tiny heart beating with terror. 
 Its wings were half-raised and fluttering, its head jerk- 
 ing from side to side in wild perturbation. Taking 
 courage, Master Dicky hopped timorously to a nearby 
 twig, and then ventured a flight to a tree-top nearer 
 the window casement. Perched in its topmost 
 branches he cheeped shrilly, as if there was fear in 
 his little breast. 
 
 In silence the two women in the window v/atched the 
 agitated movements of the bird. The same thought 
 was in the mind of each, the same question, the same 
 intense wish. 
 
 A brown thrush sped through the air, close by the 
 timid canary. Like a flash it dropped to the twigs 
 lower down, its wings palpitating in violent alarm. 
 
 Dicky ! ” called Sara Wraiidall, and then cheeped 
 between her teeth. 
 
 A moment later Dicky was fluttering about the 
 eaves ; his circles grew smaller, his winging less rhyth- 
 mic, till at last with a nervous little flutter he perched 
 on the top of the window shutter, so near that they 
 might have reached to him with their hands. He sat 
 there with his head cocked to one side. 
 
 Dicky ! ” called Sara again. This time she held 
 out her finger. For some time he regarded it with 
 indifference, not to say disfavour. Then he took one 
 more flight, but much shorter than the first, bringing 
 up again at the shutter-top. A second later he hopped 
 
THE SECOND ENCOUNTER 277 
 
 down and his little talons gripped Sara’s finger with 
 an earnestness that left no room for doubt. 
 
 She lowered her hand until it was even with the open 
 door of the gilded cage. He shot inside with a whir 
 that suggested a scramble. With his wings folded, 
 he sat on his little trapeze and cheeped. She closed 
 and fastened the door, and then turned to Hetty. 
 
 My symbol,” she said softly. 
 
 There were tears in Hetty’s eyes. 
 
 Leslie did not turn up at his father’s place in the 
 High Street that night until Booth was safely out of 
 the way. He spent a dismal evening at the boat club. 
 
 His father and mother were in the library when he 
 came in at half-past ten. From a dark corner of the 
 garden he had witnessed Booth’s early departure. 
 Vivian had gone down to the gate in the low-lying 
 hedge with her visitor. She came in a moment after 
 Leslie’s entrance. 
 
 Hello, Les,” she said, bending an inquiring eye 
 upon him. “Isn’t this early for you.^ ” 
 
 Her brother was standing near the fireplace. 
 
 “ There’s a heavy dew falling, Mater,” he said 
 gruffly. “ Shan’t I touch a match to the kindling.? ” 
 
 His mother came over to him quickly, and laid her 
 hand on his arm. 
 
 “ Your coat is damp,” she said anxiously. “ Yes, 
 light the fire.” 
 
 “ It’s very warm in this room,” said Mr. Wrandall, 
 looking up from his book. They were always doing 
 something for Leslie’s comfort. 
 
 No one seemed to notice him. Leslie knelt and 
 struck a match. 
 
 “Well.?” said Vivian. 
 
278 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Well what?’’ he demanded without looking up. 
 
 His sister took a moment for thought. Is Hetty 
 coming to stay with us in July?” 
 
 He stood erect, first rubbing his knee to dislodge 
 the dust, — then his palms. 
 
 No, she isn’t coming,” he said. He drew a very 
 long breath — the first in several hours — and then 
 expelled it vocally. She has refused to marry me.” 
 
 Mr. Wrandall turned a leaf in his book; it sounded 
 like the crack of doom, so still had the room become. 
 
 Vivian had the forethought to push a chair toward 
 her mother. It was a most timely act on her part, 
 for Mrs. Wrandall sat down very abruptly and very 
 limply. 
 
 She — what? ” gasped Leslie’s mother. 
 
 Turned me down — cold,” said Leslie briefly. 
 
 Mr. Wrandall laid his book on the table without 
 thinking to put the bookmark in place. Then he arose 
 and removed his glasses, fumbling for the case. 
 
 She — she — what? he demanded. 
 
 Sacked me,” replied his son. 
 
 ^‘Please do not jest with me, Leslie,” said his 
 mother, trying to smile. 
 
 He isn’t joking, mother,” said Vivian, with a 
 shrug of her fine shoulders. 
 
 He — he mwst be,” cried Mrs. Wrandall impa- 
 tiently. What did she really say, Leslie?” 
 
 The only thing I remember was good-bye,’ ” said 
 he, and then blew his nose violently. 
 
 Poor old Les ! ” said Vivian, with real feeling. 
 
 It was Sara Gooch’s doing ! ” exclaimed Mrs. 
 Wrandall, getting her breath at last. 
 
 Nonsense,” said Mr. Wrandall, picking up his 
 book once more and turning to the place where the 
 
THE SECOND ENCOUNTER 279 
 
 bookmark lay, after which he proceeded to re-read four 
 or five pages before discovering his error. 
 
 No one spoke for a matter of five minutes or more. 
 Then Mrs. Wrandall got up, went over to the library 
 table and closed with a snap the bulky blue book with 
 the limp leather cover, saying as she held it up to let 
 him see that it was the privately printed history of the 
 Murgatroyd family: 
 
 ^^It came by post this evening from London. She 
 is merely a fourth cousin, my son.’’ 
 
 He looked up with a gleam of interest in his eye. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 CROSSING THE CHANNEL 
 
 Booth, restless with a vague uneasiness that had come 
 over him during the night, keeping him awake until 
 nearly dawn, was hard put during the early hours of 
 the forenoon to find occupation for his interest until 
 a seasonable time arrived for appearing at South- 
 look. He v/as unable to account for this feeling of 
 uncertainty and irritation. 
 
 At nine he set out to walk over to Southlook, real- 
 ising that he should have to spend an hour in profitless 
 gossip with the lodge-keeper before presenting himself 
 at the villa, but somehow relishing the thought that 
 even so he would be nearer to Hetty than if he re- 
 mained in his own door-yard. 
 
 Half-way there he was overtaken by Sara’s big 
 French machine returning from the village. The car 
 came to a standstill as he stepped aside to let it pass, 
 and Sara herself leaned over and cordially invited him 
 to get in and ride home with her. 
 
 What an early bird you are,” he exclaimed as he 
 took his seat beside her. 
 
 She was not in a mood for airy persiflage, as he 
 soon discovered. 
 
 Miss Castleton has gone up to town, Mr. Booth,” 
 she said rather lifelessly. I have just taken her to 
 the station. She caught the eight-thirty.” 
 
 He was at once solicitous. No bad news, I hope.^ ” 
 There was no thought in his mind that her absence was 
 other than temporarj^ 
 
 280 
 
CROSSING THE CHANNEL 
 
 281 
 
 She is not coming back, Brandon.’’ She had not 
 addressed him as Brandon before. 
 
 He stared. You — you mean — ” The words 
 died on his lips. 
 
 She is not coming back,” she repeated. 
 
 An accusing gleam leaped into his eyes. 
 
 What has happened, Mrs. Wrandall? ” he asked. 
 She was quick to perceive the change in his voice 
 and manner. 
 
 She prefers to live apart from me. That is all.” 
 
 When was this decision reached?” 
 
 But yesterday. Soon after she came in from her 
 walk with you.” 
 
 Do — do you mean to imply that that had any- 
 thing to do with her leaving your home? ” he de- 
 manded, with a flush on his cheek. 
 
 She met his look without flinching. “ It was the 
 beginning.” 
 
 You — you criticised her? You took her to 
 task — ” 
 
 I notifled her that she was to marry Leslie Wran- 
 dall, if she marries any one at all,” she said in a 
 perfectly level tone. 
 
 Good Lord, Mrs. Wrandall!” 
 
 But she is not going to marry Leslie.” 
 
 I know it — I knew it yesterday,” he cried tri- 
 umphantly. She loves me, Sara. Didn’t she say as 
 much to you ? ” 
 
 “ Yes, Brandon, she loves you. But she will not be 
 your wife.” 
 
 What is all this mystery? Why can’t she be my 
 wife? What is there to prevent? ” 
 
 She regarded him with dark, inscrutable eyes. 
 Many seconds passed before she spoke. 
 
282 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Would you want her for your wife if you knew 
 she had belonged to another man? ” 
 
 He turned very cold. The palms of his hands were 
 wet, as with ice-water. Something dark seemed to flit 
 before his eyes. 
 
 I will not believe that of her,’’ he said, shaking his 
 head with an air of finality. 
 
 That is not an answer to my question.” 
 
 Yes, I would still want her,” he declared steadily. 
 
 I merely meant to put you to the harshest test,” 
 she said, and there was relief in her voice. She is 
 a good girl, she is pure. I asked my question because 
 until yesterday I had reason to doubt her.” 
 
 Good heavens, how could you doubt those honest, 
 guiltless eyes of — ” 
 
 She shook her head sadly. To answer you I would 
 have to reveal the secret that makes it impossible for 
 her to become your wife, and that I cannot, will 
 not do.” 
 
 Is it fair to me? ” 
 
 Perhaps not, but it is fair to her, and that is why 
 I must remain silent.” 
 
 Before God, I shall know the truth, — from her, if 
 not from you, — and — ” 
 
 If you love her, if you will be kind to her, you will 
 let her go her way in peace.” 
 
 He was struck by the somewhat sinister earnestness 
 of her words. 
 
 Tell me where I may find her,” he said, setting his 
 
 jaw. 
 
 It will not be difficult for you to find her,” she 
 said, frowning, if you insist on pursuing her.” 
 
 You drive her away from your house, Sara Wran- 
 dall, and yet expect me to believe that your motives 
 
CROSSING THE CHANNEL 283 
 
 are friendly. Why should I accept your word as 
 final ? ” 
 
 “ I did not drive her away, nor did I ask her to 
 stay.” 
 
 He stared hard at her. 
 
 Good Lord, what is the meaning of all this ? ” he 
 cried in perplexity. What am I to understand?” 
 
 The car had come to a stop under the porte cochere. 
 She laid her hand on his arm. 
 
 If you will come in with me, Brandon, I will try 
 to make some things clear to you.” 
 
 He left in half-an-hour, walking rapidly down the 
 drive, his coat buttoned closely, although the morning 
 was hot and breathless. He held in his hand a small 
 scrap of paper on which was written : If I loved you 
 less, I would come to you now and lie to you. If you 
 love me, Brandon, you will let me go my way. It is 
 the only course. Sara is my friend, and she is yours. 
 Be guided by her, and believe in my love for you. 
 Hetty.” 
 
 And now, as things go in fairy stories, we should 
 prepare ourselves to see Hetty pass through a season 
 in drudgery and hardship, with the ultimate quintes- 
 sence of joy as the reward for her trials amd tribula- 
 tions. Happily, this is not a fairy tale. There are 
 some things more fantastic than fairy tales, if they 
 are not spoiled in the telling. Hetty did not go forth 
 to encounter drudgery, disdain and obloquy. By no 
 manner of means ! She went with a well-filled purse, 
 a definite purpose ahead and a determined factor be- 
 hind. 
 
 In a manner befitting her station as the intimate 
 friend of Mrs. Challis Wrandall, as the cousin of the 
 
m 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Murgatroyds, as the daughter of Colonel Castleton of 
 the Indian Corps, as a person supposed to be pos- 
 sessed of independent means withal, she went, with 
 none to question, none to cavil. 
 
 Sara had insisted on this, as much for her own sake 
 as for Hetty’s ; she argued, and she had prevailed in 
 the end. What would the world think, what would 
 their acquaintances think, and above all v/hat would 
 the high and mighty Wrandalls think if she went with 
 meek and lowly mien? 
 
 Why should they make it possible for any one to 
 look askance? 
 
 And so it was that she departed in state, with a 
 dozen trunks and boxes ; an obsequiously attended seat 
 in the parlour-car was hers ; a telegram in her bag' as- 
 sured her that rooms were being reserved for herself 
 and maid at the Ritz-Carlton ; alongside it reposed a 
 letter to Mr. Carroll, instructing him to provide her 
 with sufficient funds to carry out the plan agreed 
 upon; and in the seat behind sat the lady’s maid who 
 had served her for a twelve-month and more. 
 
 The timely demise of the venerable Lord Murga- 
 troyd afforded the most natural excuse for her trip 
 to England. The old nobleman gave up the ghost, 
 allowing for difference in time, at the very moment 
 when Mrs. Redmond Wrandall was undoing a certain 
 package from London, which turned out to be a com- 
 plete history of what his forebears had done in the 
 way of propagation since the fourteenth century. 
 
 Hetty did not find it easy to accommodate her pride 
 to tlij plan which was to give her a fresh and rather 
 imposing start in the world. She was to have a full 
 year in which to determine whether she should accept 
 toil and poverty as her lot, or emulate the symbolic 
 
CROSSING THE CHANNEL 
 
 285 
 
 example of Dicky the canary bird. At the end of the 
 year, unless she did as Dicky had done, her source of 
 supplies would be automatically cut off and she would 
 be entirely dependent upon her own wits and re- 
 sources. In the interim, she was a probationary per- 
 son of leisure. It had required hours of persuasion 
 on the part of Sara Wrandall to bring her into line 
 with these arrangements. 
 
 But I am able and willing to work for my living,’’ 
 had been Hetty’s stubborn retort to all the arguments 
 brought to bear upon her. 
 
 Then let me put it in another light. It is vital to 
 me, of course, that you should keep up the show of 
 affluence for a while at least. I think I have made 
 that clear to you. But here is another side to the mat- 
 ter; the question of recompense.” 
 
 Recompense.? ” cried Hetty sharply. 
 
 Without your knowing it, I have virtually held 
 you a prisoner all these months, condemned in my own 
 judgment if not in the sight of the law. I have taken 
 the law unto myself. You were not convicted of mur- 
 der in this Unitarian court of mine, but of another sin. 
 For fifteen months you have been living under the 
 shadow of a crime you did not commit. I was reserv- 
 ing complete punishment for you in the shape of an 
 ignoble marriage, which was to have served two bitter 
 ends. Well, I have had the truth from you. I be- 
 lieve you to be absolutely innocent of the charge I 
 held over you, for which I condemned you without a 
 hearing. Then, why should I not employ my own 
 means of making restitution?” 
 
 You have condescended to believe in me. That 
 is all I ask.” 
 
 True, that is all you ask. But is it altogether 
 
286 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 the fair way out of it? To illustrate: our criminal 
 laws are less kind to the innocent than to the guilty. 
 Our law courts find a man guilty and he is sent to 
 prison. Later on, he is found to be innocent — abso- 
 lutely innocent. What does the State do in the prem- 
 ises? It issues a formal pardon, — a mockery, pure 
 and simple, — and the man is set free. It all comes 
 to a curt, belated apology for an error on the part of 
 justice. No substantial recompense is offered. He is 
 merely pardoned for something he didn’t do. The 
 State, which has wronged him, condescends to pardon 
 him! Think of it! It is the same as if a man knocked 
 another down and then said, before he removed his 
 foot from the victim’s neck: ^I pardon you freely.^ 
 My father was opposed to the system we have — that 
 all countries have — of pardoning men who have been 
 unjustly condemned. The innocent victim is pardoned 
 in the same manner as the guilty one who comes in 
 for clemency. I accept my father’s contention that 
 an innocent man should not be shamed and humiliated 
 by a pardon. The court which tried him should re- 
 open the case and honourably acquit him of the crime. 
 Then the State should pay to this innocent man, dol- 
 lar for dollar, all that he might have earned during 
 his term of imprisonment, with an additional amount 
 for the suffering he has endured. Not long ago in an 
 adjoining State a man, who had served seventeen years 
 of a life sentence for murder, was found to be wholly 
 innocent. What happened? A pardon was handed 
 to him and he walked out of prison, broken in spirit, 
 health and purse. His small fortune had been wiped 
 out in the futile effort to prove his innocence. He 
 gave up seventeen years of his life and then was par- 
 doned for the sacrifice. He should have been paid 
 
CROSSING THE CHANNEL 287 
 
 for every day spent in prison. That was the very 
 least they could have done.” 
 
 “ I see now what you mean,” mused Hetty. I 
 have never thought of it in that way before.” 
 
 Well, it comes to this in our case, Hetty: I have 
 tried you all over again in my own little court and I 
 have acquitted you of the charge I had against you. 
 I do not offer you a silly pardon. You must allow me 
 to have my way in this matter, to choose my own 
 means of compensating you for — ” 
 
 You saved my life,” protested Hetty, shaking her 
 head obstinately. 
 
 My dear, I appreciate the fact that you are Eng- 
 lish,” said Sara, with a weary smile, “ but won’t you 
 please see the point ? ” 
 
 Then Hetty smiled too, and the way was easier after 
 that for Sara. She gained her quixotic point, and 
 Hetty went away from Southlook feeling that no 
 woman in all the world was so bewildering as Sara 
 Wrandall. 
 
 When she sailed for England, two days later, the 
 newspapers announced that the beautiful and attrac- 
 tive Miss Castleton was returning to her native land 
 on account of the death of Lord Murgatroyd, and 
 would spend the year on the Continent, where prob- 
 ably she would be joined later on by Mrs. Wrandall, 
 whose period of mourning and distress had been sof- 
 tened by the constant and loyal friendship of this 
 exquisite Englishwoman.” 
 
 Four hundred miles out at sea, she was overtaken 
 by wireless messages from three persons. 
 
 Brandon Booth’s message said : I am sailing to- 
 morrow on a faster ship than yours. You will find 
 me waiting for you on the landing stage.” fler heaii: 
 
288 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 gave a leap to dizzy heights, and, try as she would, 
 she could not crush it back to the depths in which it 
 had dwelt for days. 
 
 The second bit of pale green paper contained a cry 
 from a most unexpected source : Cable your London 
 address. S. refuses to give it to me. I think I under- 
 stand the situation. We want to make amends for 
 what you have had to put up with during the year. 
 She has shown her true nature at last.’’ It was 
 signed Leslie.” 
 
 From Sara came these cryptic words: ^^For each 
 year of famine there will come seven years of plenty.” 
 
 All the way across the Atlantic she lived in a state 
 of subdued excitement. Conflicting emotions absorbed 
 her waking hours but her dreams were all of one com- 
 plexion: rosy and warm and full of a joyousness that 
 distressed her vastly when she recalled them to mind in 
 the early morning hours. During the day she inter- 
 mittently hoped and feared that he would be on the 
 landing stage. In any event, she was bound to find 
 unhappiness. If he were there her joy would be short- 
 lived and blighting; if he were not there, her disap- 
 pointment would be equally hard to bear. 
 
 He was there. She saw him from the deck of the 
 tender as they edged up to the landing. His tall fig- 
 ure loomed in the front rank against the rail that held 
 back the crowd; his sun-bronzed face wore a look of 
 eager expectancy; from her obscured position in the 
 shadow of the deck building, purposely chosen for 
 reasons only too obvious, she could even detect the 
 alert, swift-mo^dng scrutiny that he fastened upon the 
 crowd. 
 
 Later on, he stood looking down into her serious 
 blue eyes ; her hands were lying limp in his. Plis own 
 
CROSSING THE CHANNEL 
 
 289 
 
 eyes were dark with earnestness, with the restraint that 
 had fastened itself upon him. Behind her stood the 
 respectful but immeasurably awed maid, who could not, 
 for the life of her, understand how a man could be on 
 both sides of the Atlantic at one and the same time. 
 
 Thank the Lord, Hetty, say I, for the five day 
 boats,” he was saying. 
 
 You should not have come, Brandon,” she cried 
 softly, and the look of misery in her eyes was tinged 
 with a glow she could not suppress. It only makes 
 everything harder for me. I — I — Oh, I wish you 
 had not come ! ” 
 
 But isn’t it wonderful? ” he cried, that I should 
 be here and waiting for you ! It is almost incon- 
 ceivable. And you were in the act of running away 
 from me, too. Oh, I have that much of the tale from 
 Sara, so don’t look so hurt about it.” 
 
 I am so sorry you came,” she repeated, her lip 
 trembling. 
 
 Noting her emotion, he gave her hands a fierce, en- 
 couraging pressure and immediately released them. 
 
 Come,” he said gently ; “ I have booked for Lon- 
 don. Everything is arranged. I shall see to your 
 luggage. Let me put you in the carriage first.” 
 
 As she sat in the railway carriage, waiting for him 
 to return, she tried in a hundred ways to devise a 
 means of escape, and yet she had never loved him so 
 much as now. Her heart was sore, her desolation 
 never so complete as now. 
 
 He came back at last and took his seat beside her 
 in the compartment, fanning himself with his hat. 
 The maid very discreetly stared out of the window at 
 the hurrying throng of travellers on the platform. 
 One other person occupied the compartment with them, 
 
290 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 a crabbed Englishman who seemed to resent the fact 
 that his seat was not next the window, and that maids 
 should be encouraged to travel first class. 
 
 Isn’t it really wonderful?” whispered Booth once 
 more, quite *.as if he couldn’t believe it himself. She 
 smiled rather doubtfully. He was sitting quite close 
 to her and leaning forward. 
 
 The Englishman got up and went i^^to the corridor 
 to consult the conductor. One might have heard him 
 say he’d yery much prefer going into another com- 
 partment where it wouldn’t be necessary for him to 
 annoy a beastly American bride and groom — her 
 maid and perhaps later on his man — all the way up 
 to London. 
 
 How I love vou. Hetty — how I adore you ! 
 Booth whispered passionately. 
 
 Oh, Brandon ! ” 
 
 And I don’t mean to give you up,” he added, his 
 lean jaw setting hard. 
 
 You must — oh, you must,” she cried miserably. 
 
 I mean it, Brandon — ” 
 
 The Englishman came back and took his seat. He 
 glared at Booth through his eye-glass, and that young 
 gentleman sat up in sudden embarrassment. 
 
 What are your plans ? ” asked he, turning his back 
 on their fellow-passenger. 
 
 Please don’t ask me,” she pleaded. You must 
 give it up, Brandon. Let me go my own way.” 
 
 Not until I have the whole story from you. You 
 see, I am not easily thwarted, once I set my heart on 
 a thing. I gathered this much from Sara: the ob- 
 stacle is not insurmountable.” 
 
 “ She — said — that ? ” 
 
 In effect, yes,” he qualified. 
 
CROSSING THE CHANNEL 291 
 
 “What did she tell you?” demanded Hetty, laying 
 her hand on his arm. 
 
 “ I will confess she didn’t reveal the secret that you 
 consider a barrier, but she went so far as to say that 
 it was very dark and dreadful,” he said lightly. They 
 were speaking in very low tones. “ When I pinned 
 her down to it, she added that it did not in any sense 
 bear upon your honour. But there is time enough to 
 talk about this later on. For the present, let’s not 
 discuss the past. I know enough of your history from 
 your own lips as well as what little I could get out of 
 Sara, to feel sure that you are, in a way, drifting. I 
 intend to look after you, at least until yon find your- 
 self. Your sudden break with Sara has been ex- 
 plained to me. Leslie Wrandall is at the back of it. 
 Sara told me that she tried to force you to marry him. 
 I think you did quite right in going away as you did, 
 but, on the other hand, was it quite fair to me? ” 
 
 “ Yes, it was most fair,” she said, compressing her 
 lips. 
 
 He frowned. 
 
 “ We can’t possibly be of the same opinion,” he said 
 seriously. 
 
 “ You wouldn’t say that if you knew everything.” 
 
 “ How long do you intend to stay in London ? ” 
 
 “ I don’t know. When does this train arrive 
 there? ” 
 
 “ At four o’clock, I think. Will you go to an hotel 
 or to friends? ” He put the question very delicately. 
 
 She smiled faintly. “ You mean the Murga- 
 troyds ? ” 
 
 “Your father is here, I am informed. And you 
 must have other friends or relatives who — ” 
 
 “ I shall go to a small hotel I know near Trafalgar 
 
292 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Square,’’ she interrupted quietly. You must not 
 come there to see me, Brandon.” 
 
 I shall expect you to dine with me at — say 
 Prince’s this evening,” was his response to this. 
 
 She shook her head and then turned to look out of 
 the window. He sat back in his seat and for many 
 miles, with deep perplexity in his eyes, studied her 
 half-averted face. The old uneasiness returned. Was 
 this obstacle, after all, so great that it could not be 
 overcome ? 
 
 They lunched together, but were singularly re- 
 served all through the meal. A plan was growing in 
 her brain, a cruel but effective plan that made her 
 despise herself and yet contained the only means of 
 escape from an even more cruel situation. 
 
 He drove with her from the station to the small 
 hotel off Trafalgar Square. There were no rooms to 
 be had. It was the week of Ascot and the city was 
 still crowded with people who awaited only the royal 
 sign to break the fetters that bound them to London. 
 Somewhat perturbed, she allowed him to escort her to 
 several hotels of a like character. Failing in each 
 case, she was in despair. At last she plucked up the 
 courage to say to him, not without constraint and 
 embarrassment : 
 
 I think, Brandon, if you were to allow me to ap- 
 ply alone to one of these places I could get in without 
 much trouble.” 
 
 Good Lord ! ” he gasped, going very red with dis- 
 may. ^^What a fool I — ” 
 
 I’ll try the Savoy,” she said quickly, and then 
 laughed at him. His face was the picture of distress. 
 
 I shall come for you at eight,” he said, stopping 
 the taxi at once. Good-bye till then.” 
 
CROSSING THE CHANNEL 
 
 293 
 
 He gx)t out and gave directions to the chauffeur. 
 Then he did a very strange thing. He hailed another 
 taxi and, climbing in, started off in the wake of the 
 two women. From a point of vantage near the cor- 
 ridor leading to the American bar,” he saw Hetty 
 sign her slips and move off toward the lift. WTiere- 
 upon, seeing that she was quite out of the way, he 
 approached the manager’s office and asked for accom- 
 modations. 
 
 Nothing left, sir.” 
 
 Not a thing.? ” 
 
 “ Everjrthing has been taken for weeks, sir. I’m 
 sorry.” 
 
 Sorry, too. I had hoped you might have some- 
 thing left for a friend who expects to stop here — a 
 Miss Castleton.” 
 
 Miss Castleton has just applied. We could not 
 give her anything.” 
 
 Eh.? ” 
 
 Fortunately we could let her have rooms until 
 eight this evening. We were more than pleased to 
 offer them to her for a few hours, although they are 
 reserved for parties coming down from Liverpool to- 
 night.” 
 
 Booth tried the Cecil and got a most undesirable 
 room. Calling up the Savoy on the telephone, he got 
 her room. The maid answered. She informed him 
 that Miss Castleton had just that instant gone out 
 and would not return before seven o’clock. 
 
 I suppose she will not remove her trunks from the 
 station until she finds a permanent place to lodge,” 
 he inquired. Can I be of any service? ” 
 
 I think not, sir. She left no word, sir.” 
 
 He hung up the receiver and straightway dashed 
 
294 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 over to the Savoy, hoping to catch her before she left 
 the hotel. Just inside the door he came to an abrupt 
 stop. She was at the news and ticket booth in the 
 lobby, closely engaged in conversation with the clerk. 
 Presently the latter took up the telephone, and after 
 a brief conversation with some one at the other end, 
 turned to Hetty and nodded his head. Whereupon 
 she nodded her own adorable head and began the 
 search for her purse. Booth edged around to an ob- 
 scure spot and saw her pay for and receive something 
 in return. 
 
 By Jove!’’ he said to himself, amazed. 
 
 She passed near him, without seeing him, and went 
 out into the court. He watched her turn into the 
 Strand. 
 
 When the night boat from Dover to Calais slipped 
 away from her moorings that evening, Hetty Castle- 
 ton and her maid were on board, with all their bags 
 and trunks, and Brandon Booth was supposed to be 
 completely at sea in the heart of that glittering London- 
 town. 
 
 The night was fog-laden and dripping, and the 
 crossing promised to be unpleasant. Wrapped in a 
 thick sea-ulster Hetty sat huddled up in the lea of 
 the deck-house, sick at heart and miserable. She re- 
 proached herself for the scurvy trick she was playing 
 on him, reviled herself and yet pitied herself. After 
 all, she was doing him a good turn in forcing him to 
 despise her for the shameless way in which she treated 
 his devotion, his fairness, his loyalty. He would be 
 happier in the end for the brief spasm of pain and dis- 
 gust he was to experience in this second revelation of 
 her unworthiness. 
 
 Crouching there in the shadow, with the foghorn 
 
CROSSING THE CHANNEL 
 
 295 
 
 chortling hoarsely over the shabby trick, — so it 
 seemed to her, — she stared back at the misty glow 
 of the pier and tried to pierce the distance that lay 
 between her and the lights o’ London, so many leagues 
 away. He was there, in the glitter and glamour of it 
 all, but black with disappointment and wonder. Oh, 
 it was a detestable thing she had done! Her poor 
 heart ached for him. She could almost see the despair, 
 the bewilderment in his honest eyes as he sat in his 
 room, hours after the discovery of her flight, defeated, 
 betrayed, disillusioned. 
 
 There were but few people crossing. Sailors stood 
 by the rail, peering into the fog, but it seemed to her 
 that no one else was afoot on board the steamer. Al- 
 ready the boat was beginning to show signs of the un- 
 easy trip ahead. Many foghorns, far and near, were 
 barking their lugubrious warnings; the choppy waves 
 were slashing against the vessel with a steady beat; 
 the hobbling of the ship increased as it plunged deeper 
 into the cross-seas. But she had no thought of the 
 ship, the channel or the perils that surrounded her. 
 Her mind was back in London with her heart, and 
 there was nothing ahead of her save the dread of to- 
 morrow’s sunlight. 
 
 She was a good sailor. A dozen times, perhaps, she 
 had crossed the English Channel, in fair weather and 
 foul, and never with discomfort. Her maid, she knew, 
 was in for a wretched brawl with the waves, but Hetty 
 was too wise a sailor to think of trying to comfort 
 the unhappy creature. Misery does not always love 
 company. 
 
 A tall man came shambling down the narrow space 
 along the rail and stopped directly in front of her. 
 She started in alarm as he reached out his hand to 
 
296 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 support himself against the deck house. As he leaned 
 forward, he laughed. 
 
 You were thinking of me, Hetty,” said the man. 
 
 For a long time she stared at him, transfixed, and 
 then, with a low moan, covered her eyes with her hands. 
 
 Is it true — is it a dream?” she sobbed. 
 
 He dropped down beside her and gathered her in 
 his strong, eager arms. 
 
 "^^You were thinking of me, weren’t you? And re- 
 proaching yourself, and hating yourself for running 
 away like this? I thought so. Well, you might just 
 as well try to dodge the smartest detective in the 
 world as to give me the slip now, darling.” 
 
 You — you spied on me?” she cried, in muffled 
 tones. She lay very limp in his arms. 
 
 I did,” he confessed, without shame. ’Gad, when 
 I think of what I might be doing at this moment if I 
 hadn’t found you out in time! Think of me back 
 there in London, racing about like a madman, search- 
 ing for you in every — ” 
 
 Please, please ! ” she implored. 
 
 But luck was with me. You can’t get away, 
 Hetty. I shan’t let you out of my sight again. I’ll 
 camp in front of your door and you’ll see me wither 
 and die of sleeplessness, for one or the other of my 
 eyes will always be open.” 
 
 “ Oh, I am so tired, so miserable,” she murmured. 
 
 Poor little sweetheart 1 ” 
 
 “ I wish you would hate me.” 
 
 Lie where you are, dearest, and — forget ! ” 
 
 If I only could — forget 1 ” 
 
 Rest. I will hold you tight and keep you warm. 
 We’re in for a nasty crossing, but it is paradise for 
 me. I am mad with the delight of having you here, 
 
CROSSING THE CHANNEL 
 
 297 
 
 holding you close to me, feeling you in my arms. The 
 wilder the night the better, for I am wild with the joy 
 of it all. I love you ! I love you ! ” He strained her 
 closer to him in a sort of paroxysm. 
 
 She was quiet for a long time. Then she breathed 
 into his ear: 
 
 You will never know how much I was longing for 
 you, just as you are now, Brandon, and in the midst 
 of it all you came. It is like a fairy story, and oh, I 
 shall always believe in fairies.” 
 
 All about them were the sinister sounds of the fog 
 — the hoots, the growls and groans of lost things 
 in the swirl of the North Sea current, creeping blindly 
 through the guideless mist. To both of them, the 
 night had a strangely symbolic significance: whither 
 were they drifting and where lay the unseen port.^ 
 
 A huge liner from one of the German ports slipped 
 across their bows with hoarse blasts of warning. 
 They saw the misty glow of her lights for an instant, 
 and even as they drew the sharp breath of fear, the 
 night resumed its mantle and their own little vessel 
 seemed to come to life again after the shock of alarm 
 and its engines throbbed the faster, just as the heart- 
 beats quicken when reaction sets in. 
 
 A long time afterward the throbbing ceased, bell- 
 buoys whistled and clanged about them; the sea sud- 
 denly grew calm and lifeless; they slid over it as if it 
 were a quavering sheet of ice; and lights sneaked out 
 of the fog and approached with stealthy swiftness. 
 Bells rang below and above them, sailors sprang up 
 from everywhere and calls were heard below; the rat- 
 tling of chains and the thumping of heavy luggage 
 took the place of that steady, monotonous beat of the 
 engines. People began to infest the deck, limp and 
 
298 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 groaning, harassed but voiceless. A mighty sigh 
 seemed to envelop the whole ship — a sigh of relief. 
 
 Then it was that these two arose stiffly from their 
 sheltered bench and gave heed to the things that were 
 about them. 
 
 The Channel was behind them. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 EATTLING OLD BONES 
 
 They journeyed to Paris by the night mail. He was 
 waiting for her on the platform when she descended 
 from the wagon lit in the Gare du Nord. Sleepy pas- 
 sengers crowded with them into the customs depart- 
 ment. She, alone among them all, was smiling 
 brightly, as if the world could be sweet at an hour 
 when, by all odds, it should be sleepiest. 
 
 I was up and on the lookout for you at Amiens,” 
 he declared, as they walked off together. “ You might 
 have got off there, you know,” with a wry grin. 
 
 “ I shall not run away from you again, Brandon,” 
 she said earnestly. I promise, on my honour.” 
 
 By Jove,” he cried, that’s a relief ! ” Then he 
 broke into a happy laugh. 
 
 I shall go to the Ritz,” she said, after her effects 
 had been examined and were ready for release. 
 
 I thought so,” he announced calmly. I wired 
 for rooms before I left London.” 
 
 Really, this is ridic — ” 
 
 Don’t frown like that, Hetty,” he pleaded. 
 
 As they rattled and bounced over the cobble-stones 
 in a taxi-metre on the way to the Place Vendome, he 
 devoted the whole of his conversation to the delicious 
 breakfast they were to have, expatiating glibly on the 
 wonderful berries that would come first in that always- 
 to-be-remembered meal. She was ravenously hungry 
 by the time they reached the hotel, just from listening 
 to his dissertation on chops and rolls and coffee as 
 they are served in Paris, to say nothing of waffles and 
 
 ^99 
 
800 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 honey and the marmalade that no Englishman can do 
 without. 
 
 Alone in his room, however, he was quite another 
 person. His calm assurance took flight the instant 
 he closed the door and moodily began to prepare for 
 his bath. Resolution was undiminished, but the facts 
 in the case were most desolating. Whatever it was 
 that stood between them, there was no gainsaying its 
 power to influence their lives. It was no trifle that 
 caused her to take this second flight, and the sooner 
 he came to realise the seriousness of opposition the bet- 
 ter. 
 
 He made up his mind on one point in that half-hour 
 before breakfast: if she asked him again to let her go 
 her way in peace, it was only fair to her and right 
 that he should submit to the inevitable. She loved 
 him, he was sure of it. Then there must be a very 
 good reason for her perplexing attitude toward him. 
 He would make one more attempt to have the truth 
 from her. Failing in that, he would accept the situa- 
 tion as hopeless, for the time being at least. She 
 should know that he loved her deeply enough for that. 
 
 She joined him in the little open-air cafe, and they 
 sat down at a table in a remote corner. There were 
 few people breakfasting. In her tender blue eyes there 
 was a look of sadness that haunted him, even as she 
 smiled and called him beloved. 
 
 Hetty, darling,^’ he said, leaning forward and laj^- 
 ing his hand on hers, can’t you tell me what it is ? ” 
 
 She was prepared for the question., In her heart 
 she knew the time had come when she must be fair 
 with him. He observed the pallor that stole into her 
 warm, smooth cheeks as she regarded him fixedlj" for a 
 long time before replying. 
 
RATTLING OLD BONES 
 
 301 
 
 There is only one person in the world who can 
 tell you, Brandon. It is for her to decide. I mean 
 Sara Wrandall/’ 
 
 Pie felt a queer, sickening sensation of uneasiness 
 sneak into existence. In the back of his mind, a hate- 
 ful fear began to shape itself. For a long time he 
 looked into her sombre eyes, and as he looked the fear 
 that was hateful took on something of a definite shape. 
 
 Did you know her husband? ” he asked, and some- 
 how he knew what the answer would be. 
 
 “ Yes,” she replied, after a moment. She was 
 startled. Her lips remained parted. 
 
 He watched her closely. Has this — this secret 
 anything to do with Challis Wrandall?” 
 
 It has,” said she, meeting his gaze steadily. 
 
 Plis hands clutched the edge of the table in a grip 
 that turned the knuckles white. 
 
 Hetty!” he cried, in a hoarse whisper. You 
 — • can’t mean that you — ” 
 
 You must go to Sara,” she cried hurriedly. 
 Haven’t I told you that she is the one — ” 
 
 <JfiWere you in love with that infernal scoundrel?” 
 he demanded fiercely. 
 
 Sara knows everything. She will tell you — ” 
 Were you carrying on an affair with him while 
 professing to be the friend of his wife? Tell me that! 
 Did she find you out and — ” 
 
 “Oh, Brandon, why will you persist?” she cried, 
 her eyes aflame. “ I can tell you no more. Why do 
 you glare at me as if I were the meanest thing on 
 earth? Is this love? Is this your idea of greatness? 
 Isn’t it enough for you to know that Sara is my loyal, 
 devoted friend; that she — ” 
 
 “Wait!” he commanded darkly. “Is it possible 
 
302 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 that she did not discover your secret until the day 
 you left her house so abruptly? Does that explain 
 your sudden departure? ’’ 
 
 I can answer that,’’ she said quietly. She has 
 known everything from the day I met her. I have not 
 said anything, Brandon, to lead you to believe that I 
 was in love with Challis Wrandall, have I? ” 
 
 His eyes softened. No, you haven’t. I — I hope 
 you will forget what I said. You see, I knew Wran- 
 dalPs reputation. He had no sense of honour. 
 He — ” 
 
 Well, I Ifiwve! ” she said levelly. 
 
 He flushed. I am a beast ! I’ll put it in this way, 
 then: Was he in love with you? ” 
 
 “ You are still unfair. I shall not answer.” 
 
 He was silent for a long time. And Sara’s lips 
 are sealed,” he mused, still possessed of doubts and 
 fears. 
 
 Until she elects to tell the story, dearest love, my 
 lips are also sealed. I love you better than anything 
 else in all this world. I could willingly offer up my 
 life for you, but — well, my life does not belong to me. 
 It is Sara’s.” 
 
 For heaven’s sake, Hetty, what is all this?” he 
 cried in desperation. 
 
 I can say no more. It is useless to insist, Bran- 
 don. If you can wrest the story from her, all well 
 and good. You will hate me then, dear love. But it 
 cannot be helped. I am prepared.” 
 
 Tell me this much : when you refused to marry 
 Leslie, was your course inspired by what had happened 
 in — in connection with Challis Wrandall?” 
 
 You forget that it is you that I love,” she re- 
 sponded simply. 
 
RATTLING OLD BONES 
 
 803 
 
 “ But why should Sara urge you to marry Leslie 
 if there is anything — ” 
 
 “ Hush ! Here is the waiter. Come to my sitting- 
 room after breakfast. I have something to say to 
 you. We must come to a definite understanding. 
 This cannot go on.” 
 
 He was with her for an hour in that pinched little 
 sitting-room, and left her there without a vestige of 
 rancour in his soul. She would not give an inch in 
 the stand she had taken, but something immeasurably 
 great in his make-up rose to the occasion and he went 
 forth with the conviction that he had no right to de- 
 mand more of her than she was ready to give. He 
 was satisfied to abide by her decision. The spell of 
 her was over him more completely than ever before. 
 
 Two days later he saw her off at the Gare de Lyons, 
 bound for Interlaken. There was a complete luider- 
 standing between them. She wanted to be quite alone 
 in the Alpine town; he was not to follow her there. 
 She had reserved rooms at the Schweitzerhof, and the 
 windows of her sitting-room looked straight up the val- 
 ley to the snow-covered crest of the Jungfrau. She 
 remembered these rooms ; as a young girl she had occu- 
 pied them with her father and mother. By some hook 
 or crook. Booth arranged by wire for her to have them 
 again, not an easy matter at that season of the year. 
 Later she was to go on to Lucerne, and then to Venice. 
 
 The slightest shred of hope was left for Booth. 
 Even though he might accomplish the task he had set 
 unto himself — the conquest of Sara in respect to the 
 untold story — he still had Hetty’s dismal prophecy 
 that after he learned the truth he would come to see 
 why they could not be married. But he would not de- 
 spair. 
 
304 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 ‘‘ We’ll see,” was all that he said in response to her 
 forlorn cry that they were parting for ever. There 
 was a grimness in the way he said it that gave her 
 something to cherish during the months to come; the 
 hope that he would come back and take her in spite 
 of herself. 
 
 He sailed from Cherbourg on the first steamship 
 calling there. Awake, he thought of her; asleep, he 
 dreamed of Challis Wrandall. There was something 
 uncanny in the persistence with which that ruthless 
 despoiler of peace forced his way into his dreams, to 
 the absolute exclusion of all else. The voyage home 
 was made horrid by these nightly reminders of a man 
 he scarcely knew, yet dreaded. He became more or 
 less obsessed by the idea that an evil spell had de- 
 scended upon him in the shape of a ghostly influence. 
 
 The weeks passed slowly for Hetty. There were 
 no letters from Sara, but an occasional line or so from 
 Mr. Carroll. She had made Brandon Booth promise 
 that he would not write to her, nor was he to expect 
 anything from her. If her intention was to cut her- 
 self off entirely from her recent world and its people, 
 as she might have done in another way by pursuing 
 the time-honoured and rather cowardly plan of enter- 
 ing a convent, she was soon to discover that success 
 in the undertaking brought a deeper sense of exile 
 than she could have imagined herself able to endure 
 at the outset. She found herself more utterly alone 
 and friendless than at any time in her life. The 
 chance companions she formed at Interlaken, — de- 
 spite a well-meant reserve, — served only to increase 
 her feeling of loneliness and despair. The very nat- 
 ural attentions of men, young and old, depressed her, 
 instead of encouraging that essentially feminine thing 
 
RATTLING OLD BONES 
 
 305 
 
 called vanity. She lived as one without an aim, with- 
 out a single purpose except to close one day that she 
 might begin the next. 
 
 After a time, she went on to Lucerne. Here the 
 life on the surface was gayer, and she was roused 
 from her state of lethargy in spite of herself. Once, 
 from her little balcony in the National, she saw two 
 of her old acquaintances in the chorus at the Gaiety. 
 They were wearing many pearls. Another time, she 
 met them in the street. She was rather quietly 
 dressed. They did not notice her. But the prosper- 
 ous Hebraic gentlemen who attended them were not 
 so careless. 
 
 One day a card was brought to her rooms. For the 
 next two weeks she had a true and unavoidable friend 
 in Lucerne. It would appear that Mrs. Rowe-Martin 
 had not been apprised of the rift in the Wrandall 
 lute. She had no reason to consider the exclusive 
 Miss Castleton as anything but the most desirable of 
 companions. Mrs. Rowe-Martin was not long in find- 
 ing out (though how she did it, heaven knows!), that 
 Lord Murgatroyd’s grandniece was no longer the inti- 
 mate of that impossible person, Sara Gooch. She 
 couldn’t think of Sara without thinking of Gooch. 
 
 But at last Mrs. Rowe-Martin departed, much to 
 Hetty’s secret relief, but not before she had increased 
 the girl’s burthens by introducing her into a cold- 
 nosed cosmopolitan set from which there were but 
 three ways of escape. She refused to marry one of 
 them, denied another the privilege of making love to 
 her, and declined to play auction bridge with all of 
 them. They were not long in dropping her, although 
 it must be said there was real regret among the men. 
 
 From Mrs. Rowe-Martin and others she heard that 
 
806 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Mrs. Redmond Wrandall and Vivian were to be in 
 Scotland in October, for somebody-or-other’s christen- 
 ing, and that Leslie had been doing some really won- 
 derful flying at Pan, 
 
 I am so glad, my dear,’’ said Mrs. Rowe-Martin, 
 
 that you refused to marry Leslie. He is a cad. 
 Besides, you would have been in a perpetual state of 
 nerves over his flying.” 
 
 Of Sara, there was no news, as might have been ex- 
 pected. Mrs. Rowe-Martin made it very clear that 
 Sara was a respectable person, — but heavens! 
 
 The chill days of autumn came and the crowd began 
 to dwindle. Hetty made preparations to join in the 
 exodus. As the days grew short and bleak, she found 
 herself thinking more and more of the happy-hearted, 
 symbolic dicky-bird on a faraway window ledge. His 
 life was neither a travesty nor a tragedy; hers was 
 both of these. 
 
 Something told her too that Brandon Booth had 
 wormed the truth out of Sara, and that she would 
 never see him again. It hurt her to think that while 
 Sara believed in her, the man who loved her did not. 
 It is a way men have. 
 
 On the eve of her departure, an event transpired 
 that was to alter the whole course of her life; or, 
 more properly speaking, it was destined to put her 
 back into an old groove. 
 
 She was walking along the quay, in the dusk of 
 early evening, her mind full of the next day’s jour- 
 ney over the mountains to Milan. The wind was cold ; 
 about her neck there was a boa of white ostrich 
 feathers, one end of which fluttered gaily over her 
 shoulder. She was continually turning half-way about 
 against the wind to reclaim the truant end of the boa. 
 
RATTLING OLD BONES 
 
 307 
 
 It was in the act of doing so on one occasion that her 
 attention was drawn to two men who sauntered across 
 the avenue from the approach to the Schweitzerhof. 
 
 She stopped still in her tracks, petrified by amaze- 
 ment — and alarm, if we may anticipate the sensation 
 by a second or two. 
 
 One of the men was Leslie Wrandall, the other — 
 her own father! 
 
 In a flash came the impulse to avoid them, to fly 
 before they recognised her. But even as she turned 
 and started off with a sudden acceleration of speed, a 
 shout assailed her ears, and then came the swift rush 
 of footsteps over the hard pavement. 
 
 ^ Hetty 1 As I live ! ” cried Leslie, planting him- 
 self in front of her. His astonishment alone kept him 
 from laying hands upon her, to make sure that she 
 was really there. Well, of all the — ” 
 
 She extended her hand. This is a surprise,” she 
 said, with admirable control. I hadn’t the faintest 
 notion you were in Lucerne.” 
 
 By Jove!” he mumbled, shaking hands with her 
 but still dazed and uncertain. He suddenly remem- 
 bered his companion. Turning with a shout, he 
 brought the soldierly, middle-aged gentleman about- 
 face with scant ceremony. Hey ! Colonel Castle- 
 ton ! See who’s here ! Doesn’t this bowl jon over 
 completely ? ” 
 
 Colonel Castleton, sallow, ascetic, deliberate in his 
 movements, raised his glass to his eye as he came to- 
 ward them. 
 
 ’Pon my soul ! ” burst from his astonished lips a 
 second afterward. He stopped short and his jaw 
 dropped in a most unmilitary fashion. ’Pon my 
 soul ! It can't be my daughter ! ” He seemed to be 
 
808 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 having difficulty not only with his head but with his 
 feet; neither appeared to be operating intelligently. 
 As a matter of fact, he stood for an instant on his 
 toes and then on his heels. He was perilously near 
 to being bowled over completely and literally. 
 
 Hetty was the first to recover. She advanced with 
 a fair assumption of warmth in her manner. Her 
 heart, belying her, was as cold as ice. 
 
 ^‘Father!” she cried, holding out her hands. 
 
 He grasped them, and looked wildly about. 
 
 Kiss me ! ’’ she whispered imperatively. 
 
 He stooped and brushed her cheek with his long 
 moustache. 
 
 Good God ! ’’ he muttered, still incredulous. 
 
 She turned to the excited Leslie with a quavering 
 smile on her lips. 
 
 We haven’t seen each other in twelve years, Mr. 
 Wrandall,” she said. 
 
 Ton my soul ! ” added her father for the third 
 time, thereby reaching the limit of emphasis, having 
 placed it diflFerently each time. 
 
 Leslie surprised himself by rising to the occasion. 
 It occurred to him that they would like to be alone for 
 a little while at least. 
 
 Then, Fll stroll on, Colonel,” he said. By 
 Jove!” The mild expletive was a tribute to Provi- 
 dence. 
 
 Not a word was spoken by father or daughter until 
 Wrandall was many rods away. 
 
 Where did you meet Leslie Wrandall.?” she de- 
 manded, showing which way her thoughts ran. They 
 were far from filial. 
 
 Aviation field — somewhere,” said he in a vague 
 sort of way. Pau, I dare say. What are you do- 
 
RATTLING OLD BONES 
 
 309 
 
 ing here? I hear you’ve cut loose from WrandalFsi 
 sister-indav/^. Was that a sensible thing to do? ” 
 
 I fancy you’ve been misinformed/’ said she in an 
 emotionless voice, but offered no further word of ex- 
 planation. 
 
 Shan’t we sit down here on this bench, my dear? ” 
 suggested the Colonel, distinctly ill at ease. 
 
 For the sake of appearances, yes,” she assented. 
 
 Leslie, looking over his shoulder from a distance, 
 saw them sitting together on one of the outer benches. 
 
 “ By Jove! ” he said to himself once more, this time 
 with accumulative perplexity. 
 
 See here, Hetty, my child,” began the Colonel nerv- 
 ously, it’s all nonsense your taking the stand you do 
 toward me. I am your father. I repeat, it’s all 
 nonsense — damned nonsense. You’ve got to — ” 
 
 Has it taken you all these years to find out that 
 it’s nonsense?” she demanded, her eyes flashing. 
 “ It’s no good arguing, father. I don’t like you. 
 There is a very good reason why I should despise j^ou. 
 We won’t go into it. After this meeting, we go our 
 separate ways again. This, it seems, was unavoidable. 
 I shan’t ask anything of you, and I advise you to ask 
 nothing of me.” 
 
 ^‘My God, that a child should utter such words to 
 a father ! ” he groaned. 
 
 A father ! ” she cried so scornfully that he must 
 have shrivelled had he been any one else but Colonel 
 Castleton of the Indian Corps. As it was, he had the 
 grace to turn a very bright red. A noble father 
 you have been! And what a splendid, self-sacrificing 
 husband you were. No! I can’t forget how my 
 mother lived and died. You call it nonsense. Well, I 
 call it something else. You took a most effective way 
 
310 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 to punish my poor mother for having the temerity to 
 marry an English gentleman. Thank God, I have my 
 mother to look back to for my own ideas of gentility.” 
 
 You never understood the way things went wrong 
 between your mother and me,” he said harshly. She 
 wasn’t all you may be pleased to think she was. 
 She — ” 
 
 How dare you insinuate — 
 
 She chucked me. That’s the sum and sub — ” 
 
 Oh, I was old enough to know that she left you — 
 chucked you, if you will — and to know why she did it. 
 I — I suppose you are looked upon by — these people 
 here — Leslie Wrandall and every one else, as a fine 
 English gentleman, a cousin of the great Lord Murga- 
 troyd. Are you.?” 
 
 Confound you, Hetty, how dare you use such a 
 tone in speaking to me? ” he exclaimed. 
 
 “They think you are a gentleman, do they?” 
 
 “ Think? Why, dammit, I am a gentleman. The 
 only ungentlemanly thing I ever did in my life was 
 to — ” He checked the angry words, biting his lips 
 to keep them down. 
 
 “Was to desert your wife,” she supplied scathingly. 
 
 “No! To marry her!” He blurted it out in his 
 rage. 
 
 “ Oh ! ” she cried, shrinking farther away from him, 
 cut to the quick. 
 
 He regarded her with cold, fishy eyes. She was un- 
 commonly pretty, he was bound to admit that. Her 
 mother’s eyes, her mother’s exquisite skin, but singu- 
 larly like certain Castleton portraits that he knew. 
 It somehow galled him to find that there was quite as 
 much of the blue-blooded Castleton in her as there 
 was commonplace Glynn; galled him more particular!}^ 
 
RATTLING OLD BONES 311 
 
 because she was his own flesh and blood after all and, 
 in spite of that, could taunt him with it, 
 
 I didn^t mean to hurt you, Hetty,’’ he said, to his 
 own surprise. The touch of tenderness had a brief 
 life. He scowled an instant later. We won’t dis- 
 cuss the past, if you please. God knows I don’t want 
 to dig up rotten bones. You are against your own 
 father. That’s enough for me. I shan’t impose my- 
 self upon you. You — ” 
 
 « Why couldn’t you have treated her with — ” be- 
 gan Hetty hotly. 
 
 Sh ! No more of that, I say. I will not be up- 
 braided by my own child. Now, see here, what do 
 you mean by letting a chance like that get away from 
 you.?” He jerked his head in the direction Leslie 
 had taken. 
 
 Chance? ” 
 
 ^^Yes. This Wrandall fellow. ’Gad, I’ve known 
 him less than a fortnight and he’s told me every secret 
 he ever knew. Why don’t you marry him? He’s not 
 a bad sort.” 
 
 That is my affair,” said she coldly. 
 
 I’d take him like a shot if I was a gel in your 
 shoes.” 
 
 “ He told you I had refused to marry him? ” 
 
 A hundred times.” 
 
 ‘^D4d you reward his confidence by relating the 
 whole history of the Castleton family?” 
 
 He stared at her. Good Lord, do you think I’m 
 an ass?” 
 
 ^^What have you told him?” 
 
 Nothing. I permitted him to do all the telling. 
 He gave me a highly commendable account of myself, 
 of you, of the fine old family of Glynns and — God 
 
S12 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 knows what ail. He restored my pride, ’pon my soul 
 he did.” The Colonel laughed as he twisted his mous- 
 tache with ironic fondness. 
 
 She was quite still for a minute or two. I heard 
 you were in England,” she said, changing the subject. 
 
 It may interest you to know that the old man over- 
 looked us completely,” he said, striking the calf of his 
 leg with his thin walking-stick. 
 
 Why should he leave anything to you.^ ” 
 
 ^^And why not, curse him?” he growled. “Am I 
 not his brother’s son? What do you mean by asking 
 a question like that ? ” 
 
 “ I think I will say good-bj^e to you now, father,” 
 she said deliberately. “We may never see each other 
 again.” She arose and stood before him, cold and 
 proud, without a spark of emotion in her eyes. 
 
 He sat still, looking up at her in surprise. “ Do 
 you think you’re doing the right thing, Hetty?” he 
 asked, annoyed in spite of himself. “ Remember that 
 I am your father. I can and will overlook all you 
 have said and done — 
 
 If you will go to her grave and kneel there and 
 ask her pardon, I may think differently of you be- 
 cause, after all, I am your daughter. You will not 
 find her buried among the stately Castletons, but in a 
 poor little spot far, far away from them. I can tell 
 you how to find it. You have never inquired, I sup- 
 pose? ” 
 
 His eyes narrowed. By Jove, you are a mean lit- 
 tle beggar ! ” 
 
 Mean? ” she cried, clenching her hands. Then she 
 laughed suddenly, shrilly. “ Oh, if my mother could 
 hear you say that to me ! ” 
 
 Damme!” he exclaimed, coming to his feet in eon- 
 
RATTLING OLD BONES 
 
 31S 
 
 iiiderable agitation. Do you want people to hear 
 us ragging each other? Don’t go into hysterics, 
 Hetty! See here, do you forget that I have written 
 to you — loving letters they were — from the heart 
 — written, I say, over and over again and what do I 
 get in return? Not a single stroke of the pen from 
 you, except the note a year ago telling me where you 
 were and — ” 
 
 And that was merely to relieve your anxiety when 
 you found I’d given up my work on the stage and 
 might become a burden on you. Oh, I read between 
 your lines.” 
 
 Nothing of the sort. I never wanted you to go 
 on the stage. Why have you persistently refused to 
 answer my subsequent letters ? ” 
 
 Because I read between the lines in all of them,” 
 she said levelly. 
 
 You have no right to say that I expected you to 
 get money out of that bally Wrandall woman — the 
 goods merchant’s daughter. That’s downright insult- 
 ing in you. I shan’t let it go undefend — ” 
 
 “ You knew I couldn’t lend you a thousand pounds, 
 father,” said she, very slowly and distinctly. 
 
 He coughed, perhaps in apology to her but more 
 than likely to himself. 
 
 You are at liberty,” she went on, to tell Mr. 
 Leslie Wrandall all there is to tell about me. He 
 doesn’t know, but it won’t matter much if he does 
 have the truth concerning me. Tell him all if you 
 like.” 
 
 My child,” said he, with a fine display of wounded 
 dignity, I am not quite the rotter you think I am.” 
 
 He did not feel called upon to explain to her that 
 he had already borrowed a thousand pounds from her 
 
THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 314 
 
 disappointed suitor, and was setting his nets for an- 
 other thousand or two. 
 
 It really won’t matter,” she said wearily. 
 
 Good-bye. I am leaving at nine to-morrow for 
 Italy.” 
 
 See you at dinner? Or afterward, just for a — ” 
 
 I think not. I do not care to see Mr. Wrandall.” 
 
 Think it over again, Hetty. Don’t — ” 
 
 ‘‘'Oh, father! How can you say such things to 
 me? ” she cried, a break in her voice. 
 
 “ Good God, my dear, isn’t it na^ral for a father 
 to want to see his daughter well provided for? ” 
 
 She turned away. 
 
 “ I am contemplating a visit to the States shortly,” 
 he remarked, following after her. 
 
 She whirled on him. “ What 1 ” 
 
 “ Young Wrandall has asked me over for a month 
 or two about the first of the year. His people are in 
 Scotland now, I hear.” 
 
 “ Are you through with India ? ” she asked in a 
 very low voice. 
 
 “ Resigned,” said he succinctly. 
 
 ‘‘ Truly? ” 
 
 He flushed and muttered an oath. She understood. 
 He had been “ kicked out ! ” 
 
 “ Hello 1 ” called out a sprightly voice from the 
 gathering darkness, and the next moment Leslie joined 
 them. “Have dinner with us to-night, Hetty? Just 
 the three of us. Please do.” 
 
 “ No, thank you, Mr. Wrandall. I am getting 
 ready to leave to-morrow. Packing and all that sort 
 of thing.” 
 
 “ Did Colonel Castleton tell you that I’m oflF for 
 New York on Saturday? Mother and Viv are to get 
 
RATTLING OLD BONES 315 
 
 the boat at Southampton. I thought you’d be inter- 
 ested to know what’s just turned up over there? ” 
 
 What has happened?” she cried quickly. 
 
 Leslie hesitated. A curious gleam stole into his 
 eyes. Was it of triumph? 
 
 Father’s got rather old-fashioned ideas about cer- 
 tain things,” he observed, by way of preface. “ He 
 writes that Sara is contemplating a second venture 
 into the state of wedded bliss.” 
 
 Hetty stared at him. I — I don’t believe it^^’ 
 she said flatly. “How can it be possible? She sees 
 no one.” 
 
 He laughed. “You’re wrong there,” said he men- 
 daciously. “ She’s been seeing a great deal of a cer- 
 tain mutual friend of ours — all summer long.” 
 
 You mean?” 
 
 Brandon Booth. Father says that rumour has 
 it they are to be married after the holidays. I fancy 
 he needed consolation, after what happened to him 
 earlier in the year. He was pretty hard hit, believe 
 me.” After a moment, he went on boldly : “ I ought 
 to be in a position to sympathise with him, I suppose, 
 but I don’t. It isn’t in me to — ” 
 
 “You say they are to be married?” cried Hetty, 
 dazed and bewildered. 
 
 They had fallen behind Colonel Castleton, who 
 walked on stiffly ahead of them. 
 
 Leslie treated her to his most engaging smile. 
 
 “Looks very Goochy, doesn’t it? I’m coming to 
 believe more than ever that blood will tell. Sara 
 knew what she was doing when she cleared her decks 
 for action a few months ago. ’Gad, I understand 
 now why she was so eager to bring off the — well, 
 another match we know about. Pretty canny, eh?” 
 
316 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 It is incredible/’ said she, with unnecessary ve- 
 hemence. 
 
 Not in the least. Clever person, Sara is. Sets 
 her heart on a thing, and — woof! she gets it, whether 
 or no. Now, don’t misunderstand me. I’m fond of 
 Erandon Booth. We all are. We don’t object to him 
 as a sort of family attachment. But if she’s going 
 to marry him, we want to know where we stand in a 
 business way. You see, he will not only step into my 
 brother Chal’s shoes at home, but at the office. And, 
 heaven knows. Brandy is not a good business man. 
 He’s great on portraits, but — I beg pardon ! ” 
 
 I must leave you here, Mr. Wrandall. Good- 
 bye ! ” 
 
 Oh, I say, can’t we see something of — ” 
 
 I am afraid not.” 
 
 He kept pace with her through the hall. 
 
 “I suppose your father told you that I — I haven’t 
 altogether given up hope of — you.” 
 
 “ He spoke of going to America with you, if that’s 
 what you mean,” she said coldly, and left him at the 
 foot of the staircase. 
 
 Leslie’s hand trembled as it went up to his mous- 
 tache. I can’t understand her beastly obstinacy,” 
 he said to himself. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 VIVIAN AIRS HER OPINIONS 
 
 Chief among Booth’s virtues was his undeviating loy- 
 alty to a set purpose. He went back to America with 
 the firm intention to clear up the mystery surrounding 
 Hetty Castleton, no matter how irksome the delay in 
 achieving his aim or how vigorous the methods he 
 would have to employ. Sara Wrandall, to all pur- 
 poses, held the key; his object in life now was to 
 induce her to turn it in the lock and throw open the 
 door so that he might enter in and become a sharer in 
 the secrets beyond. 
 
 A certain amount of optimistic courage attended 
 him in his campaign against what had been described 
 to him as the impossible. He could see no clear rea- 
 son why she should withhold the secret under the new 
 conditions, when so much in the shape of happiness 
 was at stake. It was in this spirit of confidence that 
 he prepared to confront her on his arrival in New 
 York, and it was the same unbounded faith in the be- 
 lief that nothing evil could result from a perfectly 
 just and honourable motive that gave him the needed 
 courage. 
 
 He stayed over night in New York, and the next 
 morning saw him on his way to Southlook. There 
 was something truly ingenuous in his desire to get ta 
 the bottom of the matter without fear or apprehension. 
 At the very worst, he maintained, there could be noth- 
 ing more reprehensible than a passing infatuation, 
 long since dispelled, or perhaps a mildly sinister epi- 
 sode in which virtue had been triumphant and vice 
 
 317 
 
318 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 defeated with unpleasant results to at least one per- 
 son, and that person the husband of Sara Wrandall. 
 
 Pat met him at the station and drove him to the 
 little cottage on the upper road. 
 
 Ye didn’t stay long,” said he reflectively, after 
 he had put the bag up in front. He took up the reins. 
 
 Not very,” replied his master. 
 
 After a dozen rods or more, Pat tried again. 
 
 Just siventeen days, I make it.” 
 
 Seems longer.” 
 
 Perhaps you’ll be after going back soon.” 
 
 ‘^Why should you think that, Patrick?” 
 
 Because you don’t seem to be takin’ much interest 
 in your surroundin’s here,” said Pat loftily. He de- 
 livered a smart smack on the crupper with his stubby 
 whip, and pursed his lips for the companionship to 
 be derived from whistling. 
 
 I suppose you know why I went to Europe,” said 
 Booth, laying his hand affectionately on the man’s 
 arm. 
 
 Sure I do,” said Pat, forgetting to whistle. 
 ^^And was it bad luck you had, sor?” 
 
 A temporary case of it, I’m afraid.” 
 
 ^^Well,” said the Irishman, looking up at his em- 
 ployer with the most profound encouragement in his 
 wink, if it’s anny help to you, sor. I’ll say that I’ve 
 niver found bad luck to be annything but timporary. 
 And, believe I’ve had plinty of it. Mary was 
 dom near three years makin’ up her mind to say yis 
 to me.” 
 
 ^^And since then you’ve had no bad luck?” said 
 Booth, with a smile. 
 
 Plinty of it, begob, but I’ve had some one besides 
 meself to blame for it. There’s a lot in that, Mr. 
 
iVIVIAN AIRS HER OPINIONS 
 
 S19 
 
 Brandon. Whin a man marries, he simply divides his 
 luck into two parts, good and bad, and if he’s like 
 most men he puts the bulk av the bad luck on his 
 wife and kapes to himself all he can av the good for a 
 rainy day. That’s what makes him a strong man and 
 able to meet trouble when it comes. The beauty av 
 the arrangement is that bad luck is only timporary 
 and a woman enjoys talking about it, while good luck 
 is wid us nine-tinths of the time, whether we know it 
 or not, and we don’t have to talk about it.” 
 
 This was &ie philosophy, but Booth discerned the 
 underlying motive. 
 
 Have you been quarrelling? ” 
 
 I have said Pat wrathfully. But I won’t 
 
 say as much for Mary. The point av me argument 
 is that I have all the good luck in havin’ married her, 
 and she claims to have had all the bad luck in marryin’ 
 me. Still, as I said before, ’tis but timporary. The 
 good luck lasts and the bad don’t. She’ll be after 
 tellin’ me so before sundown. That’s like all women. 
 You’ll find it out for yourself wan o’ these days, Mr. 
 Brandon, and ye’ll be dom proud ye’re a man and can 
 enjoy your good luck when ye get it. The bad luck’s 
 always failin’ behind ye, and ye can always look for- 
 ward to the good luck. So don’t be down-hearted. 
 She’ll take you, or me name’s not what it ought to be.” 
 
 Booth was inclined to accept this unique discourse 
 as a fair-weather sign. 
 
 Take these bags upstairs, Pat,” said he on their 
 arrival at the cottage, and then come down and drive 
 me over to Mrs. Wrandall’s.” 
 
 Will ye be after stayin’ for lunch with her, Mr. 
 Brandon ? ” inquired Pat, climbing over the wheel. 
 
 I can’t answer that question now.” 
 
mo 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Hiven help both av us if Mary’s good luncheon 
 goes to waste,” said Pat ominously. That’s all I 
 have to say. She’ll take it out av both av us.” 
 
 Tell her I’ll be here for lunch,” said Booth, with 
 alacrity. From which it may be perceived that mas- 
 ter and man were of one mind when it came to con- 
 sidering the importance of Mary. 
 
 Pat studied his watch for a moment with a cal- 
 culating eye. 
 
 It’s half-past eliven now, sor,” he announced. 
 
 D’ye think ye can make it ? ” 
 
 Booth reflected. I think not,” he said. I’ll have 
 luncheon first.” Whereupon he leaped from the trap 
 and went in to tell Mary how happy he was to be 
 where he could enjoy home-cooking. 
 
 At four he was delivered at Sara’s door by the astute 
 Patrick, announced by the sedate Watson and inter- 
 rogated by the intelligent Murray, who seemed sur- 
 prised to hear that he would not have anything cool 
 to drink. Sara sent word that she would be down in 
 fifteen minutes, but, as a matter of fact, appeared 
 in less than three. 
 
 She came directly to the point. 
 
 Well,” she said, with her mysterious smile, she 
 sent you back to me, I see.” He was still clasping 
 her hand. 
 
 Have you heard from her.?” he asked quickly. 
 
 No. But I knew just what would happen. I 
 told you it would prove to be a wild goose chase. 
 Where is she ? ” 
 
 He sat down beside her on the cool, white covered 
 couch. 
 
 In Switzerland. I put her on the train the night 
 before I sailed. Yes, she did send me back to you. 
 
VIVIAN AIRS HER OPINIONS 821’ 
 
 Now I’m here, I want the whole story, Sara. What 
 is it that stands between us ? ” 
 
 For an hour he pleaded with her, all to no purpose. 
 She steadfastly refused to divulge the secret. Not 
 even his blunt reference to Challis Wrandall’s connec- 
 tion with the affair found a vulnerable spot in her 
 armour. 
 
 I shan’t give it up, Sara,” he said, at the end of 
 his earnest harangue against the palpably unfair stand 
 both she and Hetty were taking. “ I mean to harass 
 you, if you please, until I get what I’m after. It is 
 of the most vital importance to me. Quite as much 
 so, I am sure, as it appears to be to you. If Hetty 
 will say the word. I’ll take her gladly, just as she is, 
 without knowing what all this is about. But, you see, 
 she won’t consent. There must be some way to over- 
 ride her. You both admit there is no legal barrier. 
 You tell me to-day that there is no insanity in her 
 family, and a lot of other things that I’ve been able 
 to bring out by questioning, so I am more than ever 
 certain that the obstacle is not so serious as you would 
 have me believe. Therefore, I mean to pester you un- 
 til you give in, my dear Sara.” 
 
 « Very well,” she said resignedly. When may I 
 expect a renewal of the conflict 
 
 Would to-morrow be convenient ” he asked 
 quaintly. 
 
 She returned his smile. Come to luncheon.” 
 
 Have I your permission to start the portrait 
 
 “ Yes. As soon as you like.” 
 
 He left her without feeling that he had gained an 
 inch along the road to success. That night, in the 
 gloaming of his star-lit porch, he smoked many a pipe- 
 ful and derived therefrom a profound estimate of the 
 
322 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 value of tact and discretion as opposed to bold and 
 impulsive measures in the handling of a determined 
 woman. He would make haste slowly, as the saying 
 goes. Many an unexpected victory is gained by dila- 
 tory tactics, provided the blow is struck at the psycho- 
 logical moment of least resistance. 
 
 The weeks slipped by. He was with her almost 
 daily. Other people came to her house, some for 
 rather protracted visits, others in quest of pillage at 
 the nightly bridge table, but he was seldom missing. 
 There were times when he thought he detected a tend- 
 ency to waver, but each cunning attempt on his part 
 to encourage the impulse invariably brought a certain 
 mocking light into her eyes and he veered off in defeat. 
 Something kept telling him, however, that the hour 
 was bound to come when she would falter in her resolu- 
 tion ; when frankness would meet frankness, and the 
 veil be lifted. 
 
 A rather impossible relative in the person of an 
 aunt came to spend the month of August with Sara — 
 her father’s sister. She was a true, unvarnished 
 Gooch. Booth shuddered at times when she emerged 
 flat-foot from the background and revelled in the 
 Goochiness that would not stay put, no matter how 
 hard she tried to subdue it. She was a good soul, — 
 much too good, in fact, — and her efforts to live up to 
 requirements were not only ludicrous but exasperating. 
 Sara was quite serene about her, however. She made 
 no excuses for the old lady; in fact, she appeared to 
 be quite devoted to her. Booth was beginning to ap- 
 preciate something of the horror the Wrandalls must 
 have felt when Challis took unto himself a Gooch. He 
 berated himself in secret for his snobbishness and in 
 public made atonement by being expansively polite to 
 
VIVIAN AIRS HER OPINIONS 
 
 323 
 
 Mrs. Coburn. The good lady had the habit of telling 
 every one what a wonderful person Sebastian Gooch 
 had been, sometimes comparing him not unfavourably 
 with Napoleon Bonaparte and George Washington: he 
 was like the Corsican in getting the better of his ad- 
 versaries, no matter how he had to go about it, but 
 like the Father of his Country in the matter of verac- 
 ity. So far as she knew, Sebastian had never told a 
 lie. To Mrs. Coburn, Sebastian was Saint Sebastian. 
 
 / The portrait was finished before Mrs. Coburn left. 
 She liked everything about it except the gown, the 
 drapery and — yes, the hands. They were too long 
 and tapering. No Gooch ever had a hand like that. 
 The Gooch hands were broad and strong: like her 
 own. All this, notwithstanding the fact that Sara’s 
 hand lay exposed all the time she was speaking, a 
 physical contradiction to her assertion. 
 
 She stayed the month and then re-entered Yonkers. 
 
 There were no letters from Hetty, no word of any 
 description. If Sara knew anything of the girl’s 
 movements she did not take Booth into her confidence. 
 
 Leslie Wrandall went abroad in August, ostensibly 
 to attend the aviation meets in France and England. 
 His mother and sister sailed in September, but not 
 before the entire colony of which they were a part had 
 begun to discuss Sara and Booth with a relish that 
 was obviously distasteful to the Wrandalls. 
 
 Where there is smoke there is fire, said all the gos- 
 sips, and forthwith proceeded to carry fagots. 
 
 A week or so before sailing, Mrs. Redmond Wrandall 
 had Booth in for dinner. I think she said en famille. 
 At any rate, Sara was not asked, which is proof 
 enough that she was bent on making it a family affair. 
 
 After dinner. Booth sat in the screened upper bal- 
 
324 } 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 cony with Vivian. He liked her. She was a keen- 
 witted, plain-spoken young woman, with few false 
 ideals and no subtlety. She was less snobbish than 
 arrogant. Of all the Wrandalls, she was the least self- 
 centred. Leslie never quite understood her for the 
 paradoxical reason that she thoroughly understood 
 him. 
 
 You know, Brandon,’’ she said^ after a long silence 
 between them, they’ve been setting my cap for you 
 for a long, long time.” She blew a thin stream of 
 cigarette smoke toward the moon. 
 
 He started. It was a bolt from a clear sky. The 
 deuce ! ” 
 
 Yes,” she went on in the most casual tone, “ moth- 
 er’s had her heart set on it for months. You were 
 supposed to be mine at first sight, I believe. Please 
 don’t look so uneasy. I’m not going to propose to 
 you.” She laughed her little ironic laugh. 
 
 So that is the way things stood, eh?” he said, 
 still a little amazed by her candour. 
 
 “ Yes. And what is more to the point, I am quite 
 sure I should have said yes if you had asked me. 
 Sounds odd, doesn’t it? Rather amusing, too, being 
 able to discuss it so unreservedly, isn’t it? ” 
 
 Good heavens, Viv ! ” he cried uncomfortably. I 
 — I had no idea you cared — ” 
 
 Cared ! ” she cried, as he paused. I don’t care 
 two pins for you in that way. But I would have mar- 
 ried you, just the same, because you are worth marry- 
 ing. I’d very much rather have you for a husband 
 than any man I know, but as for loving you! Pooh! 
 I’d love you in just the way mother loves father, and 
 I wouldn’t have been a bit more trouble to you than 
 she is to him.” 
 
VIVIAN AIRS HER OPINIONS 
 
 825 
 
 ’Gad, you don’t mind what you say ! ” 
 
 Failing to nab you, Brandy, I dare say I’ll have to 
 come down to a duke or, who knows? maybe a mere 
 prince. It isn’t very enterprising, is it? And cer- 
 tainly it isn’t a gay prospect. Really, I had hoped 
 you would have me. I flatter myself, I suppose, but, 
 honestly now, we would have made a rather nice look- 
 ing couple, wouldn’t we? ” 
 
 You flatter me,” he said. 
 
 But,” she resumed, calmly exhaling, you very 
 foolishly fell in love with some one else, and it wasn’t 
 necessary for me to pretend that I was in love with 
 you — which I should have done, believe me, if you 
 had given me the chance. You fell in love, first with 
 Hetty Castleton.” 
 
 First?” he cried, frowning. 
 
 And now you are heels over head in love with my 
 beautiful sister-in-law. Which all goes to prove that 
 I would have made just the kind of wife you need, 
 considering your tendency to fluctuate. But how 
 dreadful it would have been for a sentimental, loving 
 girl like Hetty ! ” 
 
 He sat bolt upright and stared hard at her. 
 
 See here, Viv, what the dickens are you driving 
 at? I’m not in love with Sara — not in the least, — - 
 and — ” He checked himself sharply. What an ass 
 I am! You’re guying me.” 
 
 In any event, I am right about Hetty,” she said, 
 leaning forward, her manner quite serious. 
 
 If it will ease your mind,” he said stiffly, I plead 
 guilty with all my heart.” 
 
 She favoured him with a slight frown of annoyance. 
 
 And you deny the fluctuating charge?” 
 
 “ Most positively. I can afford to be honest with 
 
226 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 you, Viv. You are a corker. I love Hetty Castleton 
 with all my soul.’’ 
 
 She leaned back in her chair. Then why don’t 
 you dignify your soul by being honest with her? ” 
 
 What do you mean ? ” 
 
 For a half-minute she was silent. Are you and 
 1 of the same stripe, after all? Would you marry 
 Sara without loving her, as I would have done by 
 you? It doesn’t seem like you, Brandon.” 
 
 Good heaven, I’m not going to marry Sara ! ” 
 he blurted out. It’s never entered my head.” 
 
 Perhaps it has entered hers.” 
 
 Nonsense! She isn’t going to marry anybody. 
 And she knows how I feel toward Hetty. If it came 
 to the point where I decided to marry without love, 
 ’pon my soul, Viv, I believe I’d pick you out as the 
 victim.” 
 
 Wonderful combination!” she said with a frank 
 laugh. The quintessence of ^ no love lost.’ But to 
 resume! Do you know that people are saying you 
 are to be married before the winter is over? ” 
 
 Let ’em say it,” he said gruffly. 
 
 Oh, well,” she said, despatching it all with a ges- 
 ture, if that’s the way you feel about it, there’s no 
 more to be said.” 
 
 He was ashamed. I beg your pardon, I shouldn’t 
 have said that.” 
 
 You see,” she went on, reverting to the original 
 topic, people who know Sara are likely to credit 
 her with motives you appear to be totally ignorant 
 of. She set her heart on my brother Challis, when 
 she was a great deal younger than she is now, and she 
 got him. If age and experience count for anything, 
 how capable she must be by this time.” 
 
VIVIAN AIRS HER OPINIONS 327 
 
 He was too wise to venture an opinion. I assure 
 you she has no designs on me.’’ 
 
 Perhaps not. But I fancy that even you could 
 not escape as St. Anthony did. She is most alluring.” 
 
 You don’t like her.” 
 
 Obviously. And yet I don’t dislike her. She has 
 the virtue of consistency, if one may use the expres- 
 sion. She loved my brother. Leslie says she should 
 have hated him. We have tried to like her. I think 
 I have come nearer to it than any of the others, not 
 excepting Leslie, who has always been her champion. 
 I suppose you know that he was your rival at one 
 time.” 
 
 He mentioned it,” said Booth drily. 
 
 I should have been very much disappointed in her 
 if she had accepted him.” 
 
 Indeed?” 
 
 I sometimes wonder if Sara spiked Leslie’s guns 
 for him.” 
 
 I can tell you something you don’t know, Vivian,” 
 said he. Sara was rather keen about making a match 
 there.” 
 
 Vivian’s smile was slow but triumphant. That is 
 just what I thought. There you are! Doesn’t that 
 explain Sara?” 
 
 In a measure, yes. But, you see, it developed 
 that Hetty cared for some one else, and that put a 
 stop to everything.” 
 
 “ Am I to take it that you are the some one else? ” 
 
 Yes,” said he soberly. 
 
 Then, may I ask why she went away so suddenly? ” 
 
 You may ask but I can’t answer.” 
 
 Do you want my opinion? She went away because 
 Sara, failing in her plan to marry her off to Leslie, 
 
328 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 decided that it would be fatal to a certain project of 
 her own if she remained on the field of action. Do 
 I make myself clear ? ” 
 
 Oh, you are away off in your conclusions, Viv.” 
 
 Time will tell,’’ was her cabalistic rejoinder. 
 
 Her father appeared on the lawn below and called 
 up to them. 
 
 You are wanted at the telephone, Brandon. I’ve 
 just been talking to Sara.” 
 
 Did she call you up, father.?^” asked Vivian, lean- 
 ing over the rail. 
 
 Yes. About nothing in particular, however.” 
 
 She turned upon Booth with a mocking smile. He 
 felt the colour rush to his face, and was angry with 
 himself. 
 
 He went in to the telephone. Almost her first words 
 were these: 
 
 What has Vivian been telling you about me, Bran- 
 don ? ” 
 
 He actually gasped. Good heavens, Sara ! ” 
 
 He heard her low laugh. So she has been saying 
 things, has she.^” she asked. I thought so. I’ve 
 had it in my bones to-night.” 
 
 He was at a loss for words. It was positively un- 
 canny. As he stood there, trying to think of a trivial 
 remark, her laugh came to him again over the wire, 
 followed by a drawling good-night,” and then the 
 soughing of the wind over the open ” wire. 
 
 The next day he called her up on the telephone quite 
 early. He knew her habits. She would be abroad in 
 her gardens by eight o’clock. He remembered well that 
 Leslie, in commenting on her absurdly early hours, had 
 once said that her early bird ” habit was hereditary : 
 she got it from Sebastian. 
 
VIVIAN AIRS HER OPINIONS 
 
 329 
 
 What put it into your head, Sara, that Vivian 
 was saying anything unpleasant about you last night? ” 
 
 Magic,” she replied succinctly. 
 
 Rubbish!” 
 
 I have a magic tapestry that transports me, hither 
 and thither, and by night I always carry Aladdin’s 
 lamp. So, you see, I see and hear everything.” 
 
 “ Be sensible.” 
 
 Very well. I will be sensible. If you intend to 
 be influenced by what Vivian or her mother said to 
 you last night, I think you’d be wise to avoid me from 
 this time on.” 
 
 Prepared though he was, he blinked his eyes and 
 said something she didn’t quite catch. 
 
 She went on : “ Moreover, in addition to my attain- 
 ments in the black art, I am quite as clever as Mr. 
 Sherlock Plolmes in some respects. I really do some 
 splendid deducing. In the first place, you were asked 
 there and I was not. Why? Because I was to be dis- 
 cussed. You see — ” 
 
 Marvellous ! ” he interrupted loudly. 
 
 You were to be told that I have cruel designs 
 upon you.” 
 
 Go on, please.” 
 
 And all that sort of thing,” she said sweepingly, 
 and he could almost see the inclusive gesture with her 
 free hand. He laughed but still marvelled at the 
 shrewdness of her perceptions. 
 
 I’ll come over this afternoon and show you wherein 
 you are wrong,” he began, but she interrupted him 
 with a laugh. 
 
 “ I am starting for the city before noon, by motor, 
 to be gone at least a fortnight.” 
 
 What ! This is the first I’ve heard of it.” 
 
330 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Again she laughed. To be perfectly frank with 
 you, I hadn’t heard of it myself until just now. I 
 think I shall go down to the Homestead with the Car- 
 rolls.” 
 
 Hot Springs? ” 
 
 Virginia,” she added explicitly. 
 
 I say, Sara, what does all this mean? You — ” 
 
 And if you should follow me there,^ Vivian’s esti- 
 mate of us will not be so far out of the way as we’d 
 like to make it.” 
 
 True to her word, she was gone when he drove over 
 later on in the day. Somehow, he experienced a queer 
 feeling of relief. Not that he was oppressed by the 
 rather vivacious opinions of Vivian and her ilk, but 
 because something told him that Sara was wavering in 
 her determination to withhold the secret from him and 
 fled for perfectly obvious reasons. 
 
 He had two commissions among the rich summer 
 colonists. One, a full length portrait of young 
 Beardsley in shooting togs, was nearly finished. The 
 other was to be a half-length of Mrs. Ravenscroft, 
 who wanted one just like Hetty Castleton’s, except 
 for the eyes, which she admitted would have to be 
 different. Nothing was said of the seventeen years’ 
 difference in their ages. Vivian had put off posing 
 until Lent. 
 
 The Wrandalls departed for Scotland, and other 
 friends of his began to desert the country for the city. 
 The fortnight passed and another week besides. Mrs. 
 Ravenscroft decided to go to Europe when the picture 
 was half-finished. 
 
 You can finish it when I come back in December, 
 Mr. Booth,” she said. I’ll have several new gowns 
 to choose from, too.” 
 
VIVIAN AIRS HER OPINIONS 331 
 
 I shall be busy all winter, Mrs. Ravenscroft,” he 
 said coldly. 
 
 How annoying,” she said calmly, and that was the 
 end of it all. She had made the unpleasant discovery 
 that it wasn't going to be in the least like Hetty Cas- 
 tleton’s, so why bother about it? 
 
 Booth waited until Sara came out to superintend 
 the closing of her house for the winter. He called 
 at Southlook on the day of her arrival. He was struck 
 at once by the curious change in her appearance and 
 manner. There was something bleak and desolate in 
 the vividly brilliant face: the tired, wistful, harassed 
 look of one who has begun to quail and yet fights on. 
 
 Will you go out with me to-morrow, Brandon, for 
 an all-day trip in the car? she asked, as they stood 
 together before the open fireplace on this late Novem- 
 ber afternoon. Pier eyes were moody, her voice rather 
 lifeless. 
 
 Certainly,” he said, watching her closely. Was 
 the break about to come.^ 
 
 I will stop for you at nine.” After a short pause, 
 she looked up and said : I suppose you would like to 
 know where I am taking you.” 
 
 It doesn’t matter, Sara.” 
 
 I want you to go with me to Burton’s Inn.” 
 
 Burton’s Inn ? ” 
 
 That is the place where my husband was killed,” 
 she said, quite steadily. 
 
 He started. Oh ! But — do you think it best, 
 Sara, to open old wounds by — ” 
 
 I have thought it all out, Brandon. I want to 
 go there — just once. I want to go into that room 
 again.” 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 ONCE MORE AT BURTON’s INN 
 
 Again Sara Wrandall found herself in that never-to- 
 be-forgotten room at Burton’s Inn. On that grim 
 night in March, she had entered without fear or trem- 
 bling because she knew what was there. Now she 
 quaked with a mighty chill of terror, for she knew not 
 what was there in the quiet, now sequestered room. 
 Burton had told them on their arrival after a long 
 drive across country that patrons of the inn invari- 
 ably asked which room it was that had been the scene 
 of the tragedy, and, on finding out, refused point- 
 blank to occupy it. In consequence, he had been 
 obliged to transform it into a sort of store and bag- 
 gage room. 
 
 Sara stood in the middle of the murky room, for 
 the shutters had long been closed to the light of day, 
 and looked about her in awe at the heterogeneous mass 
 of boxes, trunks, bundles and rubbish, scattered over 
 the fioor without care or system. She had closed the 
 door behind her and was quite alone. Light sneaked 
 in through the cracks in the shutters, but so meagrely 
 that it only served to increase the gloom. A disman- 
 tled bedstead stood heaped up in the corner. She did 
 not have to be told what bed it was. The mattress 
 was there too, rolled up and tied with a thick garden 
 rope. She knew there were dull, ugly blood-stains 
 upon it. Why the thrifty Burton had persevered in 
 keeping this useless article of furniture, she could only 
 surmise. Perhaps it was held as an inducement to the 
 
 339 
 
ONCE MORE AT BURTON’S INN 833 
 
 morbidly curious who always seek out the gruesome 
 and gloat even as they shudder. 
 
 For a long time she stood immovable just inside 
 the door, recalling the horrid picture of another day. 
 She tried to imagine the scene that had been enacted 
 there with gentle, lovable Hetty Glynn and her whilom 
 husband as the principal characters. The girl had 
 told the whole story of that ugly night. Sara tried 
 to see it as it actually had transpired. For months 
 this present enterprise had been in her mind : the desire 
 to see the place again, to go there with old impressions 
 which she could leave behind when ready to emerge in 
 a new frame of mind. It was here that she meant to 
 shake off the shackles of a horrid dream, to purge her- 
 self of the last vestige of bitterness, to cleanse her 
 mind of certain thoughts and memories. 
 
 Downstairs Booth waited for her. He heard the 
 story of the tragedy from the surly inn-keeper, who 
 crossly maintained that his business had been ruined. 
 Booth was vaguely impressed, he knew not why, by 
 Burton’s description of the missing woman. I’d say 
 she was about the size of Mrs. Wrandall herself, and 
 much the same figger,” he said, as he had said a thou- 
 sand times before. My wife noticed it the minute 
 she saw Mrs, Wrandall. Same height and every- 
 thing.” 
 
 A bell rang sharply and Burton glanced over his 
 shoulder at the indicator on the wall behind the desk. 
 He gave a great start and his jaw sagged. 
 
 Great Scott ! ” he gasped. A curious greyness 
 stole over his face. It’s — it’s the bell in that very 
 room. My soul, what can — ” 
 
 “Mrs. Wrandall is up there, isn’t she?” demanded 
 Booth, 
 
334 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 It ain’t rung since the night he pushed the button 
 for — Oh, gee! You’re right. She is up there. My, 
 what a scare it gave me.” He wiped his brow. Turn- 
 ing to a boy, he commanded him to answer the bell. 
 The boy went slowly, and as he went he removed his 
 hands from his pockets. He came back an instant 
 later, more swiftly than he went, with the word that 
 the lady up there ” wanted Mr. Booth to come up- 
 stairs. 
 
 She was waiting for him in the open doorway. A 
 shaft of bright sunlight from a window at the end of 
 the hall fell upon her. Her face was colourless, hag- 
 gard. He paused for an instant to contrast her as 
 she stood there In the pitiless light with the vivid crea- 
 ture he had put upon canvas so recently. 
 
 She beckoned to him and turned back into the room. 
 He followed. 
 
 This is the room, Brandon, where my husband 
 met the death he deserved,” she said quietly. 
 
 Deserved.? Good heavens, Sara, are you — ” 
 
 I want you to look about you and try to picture 
 how this place looked on the night of the murder. 
 You have a vivid imagination. None of this rubbish 
 was here. Just a bed, a table and two chairs. There 
 was a carpet on the floor. There were two people 
 here, a man and a woman. The woman had trusted 
 the man. She trusted him until the hour in which 
 he died. Then she found him out. She had come to 
 this place, believing it was to be her wedding night. 
 She found no minister here. The man laughed at her 
 and scoffed. Then she knew. In horror, shame, des- 
 peration she tried to break away from him. He was 
 strong. She was a good woman; a virtuous, honour- 
 able woman. She saved herself.” 
 
ONCE MORE AT BURTON’S INN 335 
 
 He was staring at her with dilated eyes. Slowly 
 the truth was being borne in upon him. 
 
 The woman was — Hetty?” came hoarsely from 
 his stiffening lips. “My God, Sara!” 
 
 She came close to him and spoke in a half-whisper. 
 “ Now you know the secret. Is it safe with you? ” 
 
 He opened, his lips to speak, but no words came 
 forth. Paralysis seemed to have gripped not only his 
 throat but his senses. He reeled. She grasped his 
 arm in a tense, fierce way, and whispered: 
 
 “ Be careful ! No one must hear what we are say- 
 ing.” She shot a glance down the deserted hall. “No 
 one is near. I made sure of that. Don’t speak ! 
 Think first — think well, Brandon Booth. It is what 
 you have been seeking for months : — the truth. You 
 share the secret with us now. Again I ask, is it safe 
 with you ? ” 
 
 “ My God 1 ” he muttered again, and passed his hand 
 over his eyes. His brow was wet. He looked at his 
 fingers dumbly as if expecting to find them covered 
 with blood. 
 
 “Is it safe with you?” for the third time. 
 
 “Safe? Safe?” he whispered, following her exam- 
 ple without knowing that he did so. “I — I can’t 
 believe you, Sara. It can’t be true.” 
 
 “ It is true.” 
 
 “ You have known — all the time? ” 
 
 “ From that night when I stood where we are stand- 
 ing now.” 
 
 “ And — and — she? ” 
 
 “ I had never seen her until that night. I saved 
 her.” 
 
 He dropped suddenly upon the trunk that stood 
 behind him, and buried his face in his hands. For a 
 
336 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 long time she stood over him, her interest divided be- 
 tween him and the hall, wherein lay their present peril. 
 
 Come,” she said at last. “ Pull yourself to- 
 gether. We must leave this place. If you are not 
 careful, they will suspect something downstairs.” 
 
 He looked up with haggard eyes, studying her face 
 with curious intentness. 
 
 What manner of woman are you, Sara? ” he ques- 
 tioned, slowly, wonderingly. 
 
 I have just discovered that I am very much like 
 other women, after all,” she said. For awhile I 
 thought I was different, that I was stronger than my 
 sex. But I am just as weak, just as much to be 
 pitied, just as much to be scorned as any one of my 
 sisters. I have spoiled a great act by stooping to do 
 a mean one. God will bear witness that my thoughts 
 were noble at the outset; my heart was soft. But, 
 come! There is much more to tell that cannot be told 
 here. You shall know everything.” 
 
 They went downstairs and out into the crisp autumn 
 air. She gave directions to her chauffeur. They were 
 to traverse for some distance the same road she had 
 taken on that ill-fated night a year and a half before. 
 In course of time the motor approached a well-remem- 
 bered railway crossing. 
 
 Slow down. Cole,” she said. This is a mean 
 place — a very mean place.” Turning to Booth, who 
 had been sitting grim and silent beside her for miles, 
 she said, lowering her voice : I remember that cross- 
 ing yonder. There is a sharp curve beyond. This 
 is the place. Midway between the two crossings, I 
 should say. Please remember this part of the road, 
 Brandon, when I come to the telling of that night’s 
 ride to town. Try to picture this spot — this smooth. 
 

 For a long time she stood over him, her interest divided 
 between him and the hall 
 

 
 
 I 
 
 " ,. I''. . ",/*?, i* 
 
ONCE MORE AT BURTON’S INN 887 
 
 straight road as it might be on a dark, freezing night 
 in the very thick of a screaming blizzard, with all the 
 world abed save — tvfo women.” 
 
 In his mind he began to draw the picture, and to 
 place the two women in the centre of it, without know- 
 ing the circumstances. There was something fascinat- 
 ing in the study he was making, something gTuesome 
 and full of sinister possibilities for the hand of a virile 
 painter. He wondered how near his imagination was 
 to placing the central figures in the picture as they 
 actually appeared on that secret night. 
 
 At sunset they went together to the little pavilion 
 at the end of the pier which extended far out into 
 the Sound, Here they were safe from the ears of 
 eavesdroppers. The boats had been stowed away for 
 the winter. The wind that blew through the open 
 pavilion, now shorn of all its comforts and luxuries, 
 was cold, raw and repelling. No one would disturb 
 them here. 
 
 With her face set toward the sinking east, she leaned 
 against one of the thick posts, and, in a dull, emotion- 
 less voice, laid bare the whole story of that dreadful 
 night and the days that followed. She spared no de- 
 tails, she spared not herself in the narration. 
 
 He did not once interrupt her. All the tim.e she 
 was speaking he was studying the profile ©f her face 
 as if fascinated by its strange immobility. For the 
 matter of a full half-hour he sat on the rail, his back 
 against a post, his arms folded across the breast of 
 the thick ulster he wore, staring at her, drinking in 
 every word of the story she told. A look of surprise 
 crept into his face when she came to the point where 
 the thought of marrying Hetty to the brother of 
 
338 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 her victim first began to manifest itself in her designs. 
 For a time the look of incredulity remained, to be suc- 
 ceeded by utter scorn as she went on with the recital. 
 Her reasons, her excuses, her explanations for this 
 master-stroke in the way of compensation for all that 
 she had endured at the hands of the scornful Wran- 
 dalls, all of whom were hateful to her without excep- 
 tion, stirred him deeply. He began to understand the 
 forces that compelled her to resort to this Machiavel- 
 lian plan for revenge on them. She admitted every- 
 thing: her readiness to blight Hetty’s life for ever; her 
 utter callousness in laying down these ugly plans ; her 
 surpassing vindictiveness ; her reflections on the triumph 
 she was to enjoy when her aims were fully attained. 
 She confessed to a genuine pity for Hetty Castleton 
 from the beginning, but it was outweighed by that 
 thing she could only describe as an obsession ! . • . 
 How she hated the Wrandalls! . . . Then came 
 the real awakening: when the truth came to her as a 
 revelation from God. Hetty had not been to blame. 
 The girl was innocent of the one sin that called for 
 vengeance so far as she was concerned. The slaying 
 of Challis Wrandall was justified! All these months 
 she had been harbouring a woman she believed to have 
 been his mistress as well as his murderess. It was not 
 so much the murderess that she would have foisted 
 upon the Wrandalls as a daughter, but the mis- 
 tress ! , . . She loved the girl, she had loved her 
 
 from that first night. Back of it all, therefore, lay 
 the stern, unsuspected truth: from the very beginning 
 she instinctively had known this girl to be innocent of 
 guile. . , . Her house of cards fell down. There 
 
 was nothing left of the plans on which it had been 
 constructed. It had all been swept away, even as she 
 
ONCE MORE AT BURTON’S INN 839 
 
 strove to protect it against destruction, and the 
 ground was strewn with the ashes of fires burnt 
 out. . . . She was shocked to find that she had 
 
 even built upon the evil spot! . . . Almost word 
 
 for word she repeated Hetty’s own story of her meet- 
 ing with Challis Wrandall, and how she went, step 
 by step and blindly, to the last scene in the tragedy, 
 when his vileness, his true nature was revealed to her. 
 The girl had told her everything. She had thought 
 herself to be in love with Wrandall. She was carried 
 away by his protestations. She was infatuated. 
 (Sara smiled to herself as she spoke of this. She 
 knew Challis Wrandall’s charm !) The girl believed 
 in him implicitly. When he took her to Burton’s Inn 
 it was to make her his wife, as she supposed. He had 
 arranged everything. Then came the truth. She de- 
 fended' herself. . . 
 
 I came upon her in the road on that wild night, 
 Brandon, at the place I pointed out. Can you picture 
 her as I have described her? Can you picture her 
 despair, her hopelessness, her misery? I have told you 
 everything, from beginning to end. You know how 
 she came to me, how I prepared her for the sacrifice, 
 how she left me. I have not written to her. I can- 
 not. She must hate me with all her soul, just as I 
 have hated the Wrandalls, but with greater reason, I 
 confess. She would have given herself up to the law 
 long ago, if it had not been for exposing me to the 
 world as her defender, her protector. She knew she 
 was not morally guilty of the crime of murder. In 
 the beginning she was afraid. She did not know our 
 land, our laws. In time she came to understand that 
 she was in no real peril, but then it was too late. A 
 confession would have placed me in an impossible po- 
 
340 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 sition. You see, she thought of me all this time. She 
 loved me as no woman ever loved another. Was not I 
 the wife of the man she had killed, and was not I the 
 noblest of all women in her eyes? God! And to think 
 of what I had planned for her ! ” 
 
 This was the end of the story. 
 
 The words died away in a sort of whimpering wall, 
 falling in with the wind to be lost to his straining earso 
 Her head drooped, her arms hung limply at her 
 side. 
 
 For a long time he sat there in silence, looking out 
 over the darkening water, unwilling, unable indeed, to 
 speak. His heart was full of compassion for her, 
 mingling strangely with what was left of scorn and 
 horror. What could he say to her? 
 
 At last she turned to him. Now you know all that 
 I can tell you of Hetty Castleton, — of Hetty Glynn. 
 You could not have forced this from me, Brandon. 
 She would not tell you. It was left for me to do in 
 my own good time. Well, I have spoken. What have 
 you to say? ” 
 
 “ I can only say, Sara, that I thank God for every- 
 thing^''^ he said slowly. 
 
 For everything? ’’ 
 
 “ I thank God for you, for her and for everything. 
 I thank God that she found him out in time, that she 
 killed him, that you shielded her, that you failed to 
 carry out your devilish scheme, and that your heart 
 is very sore to-day.” 
 
 You do not despise me? ” 
 
 No. I am sorry for you.” 
 
 Her eyes narrowed. I don’t want you to feel 
 sorry for me.” 
 
 You don’t understand. I am sorry for you be- 
 
ONCE MORE AT BURTON’S INN 341 
 
 cause you have found yourself out and must be despis- 
 ing yourself.” 
 
 You have guessed the truth. I despise myself. 
 But what could be expected of me ? ” she asked iron- 
 ically. As the Wrandalls would say, ^ blood will 
 tell.’ ” 
 
 Nonsense! Don’t talk like that! It is quite un- 
 worthy of you. In spite of everything, Sara, you are 
 wonderful. The very thing you tried to do, the way 
 you went about it, the way you surrender, makes for 
 greatness in you. If you had gone on with it and suc- 
 ceeded, that fact alone would have put you in the class 
 with the great, strong, virile women of history. It — ” 
 
 With the Medicis, the Borgias and — ” she began 
 bitterly. 
 
 “ Yes, with them. But they were great women, just 
 the same. You are greater, for you have more than 
 they possessed: a conscience. I wish I could tell you 
 just what I feel. I haven’t the words. I — ” 
 
 I only want you to tell me the truth. Do you 
 despise me.^ ” 
 
 Again I say that I do not. I can only say that 
 I regard you with — yes, with awe.'^ 
 
 As one might think of a deadly serpent.” 
 
 Hardly that,” he said, smiling for the first time. 
 He crossed over and laid his hand on her shoulder. 
 
 Don’t think too meanly of yourself. I understand 
 it all. You lived for months without a heart, that’s 
 all.” 
 
 You put it very gently.” 
 
 I think I’m right. Now, you’ve got it back, and 
 it’s hungry for the sweet, good things of life. You 
 want to be happy. You want to love again and to 
 be loved. You don’t want to be pitied. I understand. 
 
S42 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 It’s the return of a heart that went away long months 
 ago and left an empty place that you filled with gall. 
 The bitterness is gone. There is something sweet in 
 its place. Am I not right? ” 
 
 She hesitated. If you mean that I want to be 
 loved by my enemies, Brandon, you are wrong,” she 
 said clearly. I have not been chastened in that par- 
 ticular.” 
 
 You mean the Wrandalls? ” 
 
 It is not in my nature to love my enemies. We 
 stand on the same footing as before, and always shall. 
 They understand me, I understand them. I am glad 
 that mj project failed, not for their sake, but for 
 my ov/n.” 
 
 He was silent. This woman was beyond him. He 
 could not understand a nature like this. 
 
 You say nothing. Well, I can’t ask you to under- 
 stand. We will not discuss my enemies, but my friends. 
 What do you intend to do in respect to Hetty? ” 
 
 I am going to make her my wife,” he said levelly. 
 
 She turned away. It was now quite dark. He could 
 not see the expression on her face. 
 
 What you have heard does not weaken your love 
 for her?” 
 
 No. It strengthens it.” 
 
 You know what she has done. She has taken a 
 life with her own hands. Can you take her to j^our 
 bosom, can you make her the mother of your own chil- 
 dren? Remember, there is blood on her hands.” 
 
 Ah, but her heart is clean ! ” 
 
 True,” she said moodily, her heart is clean.” 
 
 No cleaner than yours is now, Sara.” 
 
 She uttered a short, mocking laugh. It isn’t 
 necessary to say a thing like that to me.” 
 
ONCE MORE AT BURTON’S INN 343 
 
 I beg your pardon.’’ 
 
 Her manner changed abruptly. She turned to him, 
 intense and serious. 
 
 She is so far away, Brandon. On the other side 
 of the world, and she is full of loathing for me. How 
 am I to regain what I have lost.^ How am I to make 
 her understand.^ She went away with that last ugly 
 thought of me, with the thought of me as I appeared 
 to her on that last, enlightening day. All these 
 months it has been growing more horrible to her. It 
 has been beside her all the time. All these months she 
 has known that I pretended to love her as — ” 
 
 I don’t believe you know Hetty as well as you 
 think you do,” he broke in. You forget that she 
 loved you with all her soul. You can’t kill love so 
 easily as all that. It will be all right, Sara. You 
 must write and ask her to come back. It — ” 
 
 Ah, but you don’t know ! ” Then she related the 
 story of the liberated canary bird. Hetty under- 
 stands. The cage door is open. She may return 
 when she chooses, but — don’t you see.^^ — she must 
 come of her own free will.” 
 
 You will not ask her to come.^” 
 
 “ No. It is the test. She will know that I have 
 told you everything. You will go to her. Then she 
 may understand. If she forgives she will come back. 
 There is nothing else to say, nothing else to consider.” 
 
 “ I shall go to her at once,” he said resolutely. 
 
 She gave him a quick, searching glance. 
 
 “ She may refuse to marry you, even now, Brandon.” 
 She can't! ” he cried. An instant later his face 
 fell. “By Jove, I — I suppose the law will have to 
 be considered now. She will at least have to go 
 through the form of a trial.” 
 
Sii THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 She whirled on him angrily. The law? What has 
 the law to do with it ? Don’t be a fool ! ” 
 
 “ She ought to be legally exonerated,” he said. 
 
 Her fingers gripped his arm fiercely. I want you 
 to understand one thing, Brandon. The story I have 
 told you was for your ears alone. The secret lives 
 with us and dies with us.” 
 
 He looked his relief. Right ! It must go no far- 
 ther. It is not a matter for the law to decide. You 
 may trust me.” 
 
 I am cold,” she said. He heard her teeth chatter 
 distinctly as she pulled the thick mantle closer about 
 her throat and shoulders. It is very raw and wet 
 down here. Come ! ” 
 
 As she started off along the long, narrow pier, he 
 sprang after her, grasping her arm. She leaned 
 rather heavily against him for a few steps and then 
 drew herself up. Her teeth still chattered, her arm 
 trembled in his clasp. 
 
 ^VBy Jove, Sara, this is bad,” he cried, in distress. 
 
 You’re chilled to the marrow.” 
 
 Nerves,” she retorted, and he somehow felt that 
 her lips were set and drawn. 
 
 You must get to bed right away. Hot bath, mus- 
 tard, and all that. I’ll not stop for dinner. Thanks 
 just the same. I will be over in the morning.” 
 
 When will you sail?” she asked, after a moment. 
 
 I can’t go for ten days, at least. My mother goes 
 into the hospital next week for an operation, as I’ve 
 told you. I can’t leave until after that’s over. Noth- 
 ing serious, but — well, I can’t go away. I shall 
 write to Hetty to-night, and cable her to-morrow. By 
 the way, I — I don’t know just where to find her. You 
 see, we were not to write to each other. It was in 
 
ONCE MORE AT BURTON’S INN 845 
 
 the bargain. I suppose yon don’t know how I can — ” 
 
 Yes, I can tell you precisely where she is. She 
 is in Venice, but leaves there to-morrow for Rome, by 
 the Express.” 
 
 Then you have been hearing from her? ” he cried 
 sharply. 
 
 Not directly. But I will say this much: there 
 has not been a day since she landed in England that 
 I have not received news of her. I have not been out 
 of touch with her, Brandon, not even for an hour.” 
 
 Good heaven, Sara ! You don’t mean to say you’ve 
 had her shadowed by — by detectives,” he exclaimed, 
 aghast. 
 
 Her maid is a very faithful servant,” was her am- 
 biguous rejoinder. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 DISTURBING NEWS 
 
 He walked home swiftly through the early night, his 
 brain seething with tumultuous thoughts. The revela- 
 tions of the day were staggering; the whole universe 
 seemed to have turned topsy-turvy since that devas- 
 tating hour at Burton’s Inn. Somehow he was not 
 able to confine his thoughts to Hetty Castleton alone. 
 She seemed to sink into the background, despite the 
 absolution he had been so ready, so eager to grant 
 her on hearing the story from Sara’s lips. Not that 
 his resolve to search her out and claim her in spite of 
 everything was likely to weaken, but that the absorb- 
 ing figure of Sara Wrandall stood out most clearly in 
 his reflections. 
 
 What an amazing creature she was! He could not 
 drive her out of his thoughts, even when he tried to 
 concentrate them on the one person who was dearest 
 to him of all in all the world, his warm-hearted, ador- 
 able Hetty. Strange contrasts suggested themselves 
 to him as he strode along, head bent and shoulders 
 hunched. He could not help contrasting the two 
 women. He loved Hetty; he would always love her, of 
 that he was positive. She was Sara’s superior in every 
 respect, infinitely so, he argued. And yet there was 
 something in Sara that could crowd this adored one, 
 this perfect one out of his thoughts for the time be- 
 ing. He found it difficult to concentrate his thoughts 
 on Hetty Castleton. 
 
 How white and ill Sara had looked when she said 
 good-night to him at the door! The memory of her 
 
DISTURBING NEWS 
 
 347 
 
 dark, mysterious eyes haunted him; he could see them 
 in the night about him. They had been full of pain; 
 there were torrents of tears behind them. They had 
 glistened as if burnished by the fires of fever. 
 
 Even as he wrote his long, triumphant letter to 
 Hetty Castleton, the picture of Sara Wrandall en- 
 croached upon his mental vision. He could not drive 
 it out. He thought of her as she had appeared to 
 him early in the spring ; through all the varying stages 
 of their growing intimacy ; through the interesting 
 days when he vainly tried to translate her matchless 
 beauty by means of wretched pigments; up to this 
 present hour in which she was revealed, and yet not 
 revealed, to him. Her vivid face was always before 
 him, between his eyes and the thin white paper on 
 which he scribbled so eagerly. Her feverish eyes were 
 looking into his ; she was reading what he wrote before 
 it appeared on the surface of the sheet! 
 
 His letter to Hetty was a triumph of skill and di- 
 plomacy, achieved after many attempts. He found it 
 hard not to say too much, and quite as difficult not 
 to say too little. He spent hours over this all-im- 
 portant missive. At last it was finished. He read 
 and re-read it, searching for the slightest flaw: a fatal 
 word or suggestion that might create in her mind the 
 slightest doubt as to his sincerity. She was sure to 
 read this letter a great many times, and always with 
 the view to finding something between the lines: such 
 as pity, resignation, an enforced conception of loyalty, 
 or even faith! He meant that she should find nothing 
 there but love. It was full of tenderness, full of hope, 
 full of promise. He was coming to her with a stead- 
 fast, enduring love in his heart, he wanted her now 
 more than ever before. 
 
348 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 There was no mention of Challis Wrandall, and but 
 once was Sara’s name used. There was nothing in 
 the letter that could have betrayed their joint secret 
 to the most acute outsider, and yet she would under- 
 stand that he had wrung everything from Sara’s lips. 
 Her secret was his. 
 
 He decided that it would not be safe to anticipate 
 the letter by a cablegram. It was not likely that any 
 message he could send would have the desired effect. 
 Instead of reassuring her, in all probability it would 
 create fresh alarm. 
 
 Sleep did not come to him until after three o’clock. 
 At two he got up and deliberately added a postscript 
 to the letter he had written. It was in the nature of 
 a poignant plea for Sara Wrandall. Even as he 
 penned the lines, he shuddered at the thought of what 
 she had planned to do to Hetty Castleton. Staring 
 hard at the black window before him, the pen still 
 in his hand, he allowed his thoughts to dwell so in- 
 timately on the subject of his well-meant postcript that 
 her ashen face with its burning eyes seemed to take 
 shape in the night beyond. It was a long time before 
 he could get rid of the illusion. Afterwards he tried 
 to conjure up Hetty’s face and to drive out the like- 
 ness of the other woman, and found that he could not 
 recall a single feature in the face of the girl he loved! 
 
 When he reached Southlook in the morning, he 
 found that nearly all of the doors and windows were 
 hoarded up. Wagons were standing in the stable-yard, 
 laden with trunks and crates. Servants without livery 
 were scurrying about the halls. There was an air of 
 finality about their movements. The place was being 
 desolated. 
 
 Yes, sir,” said Watson, in reply to his question, 
 
DISTUHBING NEWS 
 
 349 
 
 we are in a rush. Mrs. Wrandall expects to close 
 the ’ouse this evening, sir. We all go up this after* 
 noon. I suppose you know, sir, we ’ave taken a new 
 apartment in town.” 
 
 ‘^No!” exclaimed Booth. 
 
 Yes, sir, we ’ave, sir. They’ve been decorating it 
 for the pawst two weeks. Seems like she didn’t care 
 for the old one we ’ad. As a matter of fact, I didn’t 
 care much for it, either. She’s taken one of them 
 hexpensive ones looking out over the Park, sir. You 
 know we used to look out over Madison Avenue, sir, 
 and God knows it wasn’t hinspirin’. Yes, sir, we go 
 up this afternoon. Mrs. Wrandall will be down in a 
 second, thank you, sir.” 
 
 Booth actually was startled by her appearance when 
 she entered the room a few minutes later. She looked 
 positively ill. 
 
 My dear Sara,” he cried anxiously, this is too 
 bad. You are making yourself ill. Come, come, this 
 won’t do.” 
 
 I shall be all right in a day or two,” she said, 
 with a weary little gesture. I have been nervous. 
 The strain was too great, Brandon. This is the re- 
 action, the relaxation you might say.” 
 
 Your hand is hot, your eyes look feverish. You’d 
 better see your doctor as soon as you get to town. 
 An ounce of prevention, you know.” 
 
 ^^Well,” she said, with a searching look into his 
 eyes, have you written to her.^ ” 
 
 Yes. Posted it at seven o’clock this morning.” 
 
 I trust you did not go so far as to — well, to 
 volunteer a word in my behalf. You were not to do 
 that, you know.” 
 
 He looked uncomfortable. I’m afraid I did take 
 
850 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 your name in vain,” he equivocated. You are a — 
 a wonderful woman, Sara,” he went on, moved to the 
 remark by a curious influence that he could not have 
 explained any more than he could have accounted for 
 the sudden gush of emotion that took possession of him. 
 
 She ignored the tribute. You will persuade her 
 to come to New York with you?” 
 
 For your sake, Sara, if she won’t come for mine.” 
 
 She knows the cage is open,” was her way of dis- 
 missing the subject. I am glad you came over. I 
 have a letter from Leslie. It came this morning. You 
 may be interested in what he has to say of Hetty — - 
 and of yourself.” She smiled faintly. He is de- 
 termined that you shall not be without a friend while 
 he is alive.” 
 
 Les isn’t such a rotter, Sara. He’s spoiled, but 
 he is hardly to be blamed for that.” 
 
 “ I will read his letter to you,” she said, and there 
 was no little significance in the way she put it. She 
 held the letter in her hand^ but he had failed to notice 
 it before. Now he saw that it was a crumpled ball of 
 paper. He was obliged to wait for a minute or two 
 while she restored it to a readable condition. He 
 was in London when this was written,” she explained, 
 turning to the window for light. She glanced swiftly 
 over the first page until she found the place where 
 she meant to begin. ^ I suppose Hetty Castleton has 
 written that we met in Lucerne two weeks ago,’ ” she 
 read. ^ Curious coincidence in connexion with it, too. 
 I was with her father. Col. Braid Castleton, when we 
 came upon her most unexpectedly. I ran across him 
 in Paris just before the aviation meet, and got to 
 know him rather well. He’s a fine chap, don’t you 
 think? I confess I was somewhat surprised to learn 
 
DISTURBING NEWS 
 
 351 
 
 that he didn’t know she’d left America. He explained 
 it quite naturally, however. He’d been ill in the north 
 of Ireland and must have missed her letters. Hetty 
 was on the point of leaving for Italy. We didn’t see 
 much of her. But, by Jove, Sara, I am more com* 
 pletely gone on her than ever. She is adorable. Now 
 that I’ve met her father, who had the beastly misfor- 
 tune to miss old Murgatroyd’s funeral, I can readily 
 see wherein the saying blood will tell ” applies to 
 her. He is a prince. He came over to London with 
 me the day after we left Hetty in Lucerne, and I had 
 him in to meet mother and Vivian at Clarridge’s. They 
 like him immensely. He set us straight on a good 
 many points concerning the Glynn and Castleton fam- 
 ilies. Of course, I knew they were among the best 
 over here, but I didn’t know how fine they were until 
 we prevailed on him to talk a little about himself. You 
 will be glad to hear that he is coming over with us 
 on the Mauretania. She sails the 27th. We’ll be on 
 the water by the time you get this letter. It had been 
 our intention to sail last week, but the Colonel had to 
 go to Ireland for a few days to settle some beastly 
 squabbles among the tenants. Next year he wants me 
 to come over for the shooting. He isn’t going back 
 to India for two years, you may be interested to hear. 
 Two years’ leave. Lots of influence, believe me ! 
 We’ve been expecting him back in London since day 
 before yesterday. I dare say he found matters worse 
 than he suspected and has been delayed. He has been 
 negotiating for the sale of some of his property in 
 Belfast — factory sites, I believe. He is particularly 
 anxious to close the deal before he leaves England. 
 Had to lift a mortgage on the property, however, be- 
 fore he could think of making the sale. I staked him 
 
352 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 to four thousand pounds, to tide him over. Of course, 
 he is eager to make the sale. ’Gad, I almost had to 
 beg him to take the money. Terribly proud and 
 haughty, as the butler would say. He said he wouldn’t 
 sleep well until he has returned the filthy lucre. We 
 are looking for him back any hour now. But if he 
 shouldn’t get here by Friday, we will sail without him. 
 He said he would follow by the next boat, in case any- 
 thing happened that he didn’t catch the Mauretania." ” 
 Sara interrupted herself to offer an ironic observa- 
 tion: If Hetty did not despise her father so heartily, 
 I should advise you to look farther for a father-in- 
 law, Brandon. The Colonel is a bad lot. Estates in 
 the north of Ireland ! Poor Leslie ! ” She laughed 
 softly. 
 
 He’ll not show up, eh.^ ” 
 
 Not a bit of it,” she said. He may be charged 
 to profit and loss in Leslie’s books. This part of the 
 letter will interest you,” she went on, as if all that had 
 gone before was of no importance to him. ^ I hear 
 interesting news concerning you, my dear girl. My 
 heartiest congratulations if it is all true. Brandy is 
 one in a million. I have hoped all along to have him 
 as a full-fledged brother-in-law, but I’m satisfied to 
 have him as a sort of step-brother-in-law, if that’s the 
 way you’d put it. Father writes that every one is 
 talking about it, and saying what a fine thing it is. 
 He has a feeling of delicacy about approaching you in 
 the matter, and I fancy it’s just as well until every- 
 thing is settled. I wish you’d let me make a sugges- 
 tion, however. Wouldn’t it be wise to let us all get 
 together and talk over the business end of the game? 
 Brandy’s a fine chap, a corker, in fact, but the ques- 
 tion is: has he got it in him to take Challis’s place in 
 
DISTUUBING NEWS 
 
 353 
 
 the firm? You’ve got to consider the future as well as 
 the present, my dear. Vfe all do. With his artistic 
 temperament he might play hob with your interests, 
 and ours too, for that matter. Wouldn’t it be wise 
 for me to sound him a bit before we take him into the 
 firm? Forgive me for suggesting this, but, as you 
 know, your interests are mine, and I’m terribly keen 
 about seeing you get the best of everything. By the 
 way, wasn’t he a bit gone on Hetty? Passing fancy, 
 of course, and not deep enough to hurt anybody. 
 Good old Brandy ! ’ ” 
 
 There is more, Brandon, but it’s of no conse- 
 quence,” she said, tossing the letter upon the table. 
 
 You see how the land lays.” 
 
 Booth was pale with annoyance. By Jove, Sara, 
 what an insufferable ass he is!” 
 
 The shoe pinches ? ” 
 
 Oh, it’s such perfect rot ! I’m sorry on your ac- 
 count. Have you ever heard of such gall? ” 
 
 Oh, he is merely acting as the family spokesman. 
 I can see them now in solemn conclave. They think 
 it their indisputable right to select a husband for me, 
 to pass upon him, to accept or decline him as they see 
 fit, to say whether he is a proper man to hang up his 
 bat and coat in the offices of Wrandall & Co.” 
 
 “ Do you mean to say — ” 
 
 Let’s not talk about it, Brandon. It is too silly.” 
 
 They fell to discussing her plans for the immediate 
 future, although the minds of both were at work with 
 something else. 
 
 Now that I have served my purpose, I suppose you 
 wiU not care to see so much of me,” she said, as he 
 prepared to take leave of her. 
 
 “ Served your purpose? What do you Tnean? ” 
 
354 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 “ I should have put it differently. You have been 
 most assiduous in your efforts to force the secret from 
 me. It has been accomplished. Now do you under- 
 stand? ’’ 
 
 That isn’t fair, Sara,” he protested. If you’ll 
 let me come to see you, in spite of what the gossips 
 and Mr. Redmond Wrandall predict, you may be sure 
 I will be as much in evidence as ever. I suppose I have 
 been a bit of a nuisance, hanging on as I have.” 
 
 I admire your perseverance. More than that, I 
 admire your courage in accepting the situation as you 
 have. I only hope you may win her over to your way 
 of thinking, Brandon. Good-bye.” 
 
 I shall go up to town to-morrow, kit and bag. 
 When shall I see you? We have a great deal left to 
 talk about before I sail.” 
 
 Come when you like.” 
 
 ‘^You really want me to come?” 
 
 Certainly.” 
 
 He studied her pale, tired face for a moment, and 
 then shook his head. You must take care of your- 
 self,” he said. You are unstrung. Get a good rest 
 and — and forget certain things if you can. Every- 
 thing will come out all right in the end.” 
 
 It depends on what one is willing to accept as the 
 end,” she said. ^ 
 
 The next morning she received an expected visitor 
 at her apartment. Expecting him, she made a desper- 
 ate effort to appear as strong and unconcerned as she 
 had been on the occasion of a former meeting. There 
 was little in her appearance to suggest worry, illness 
 or alarm when she entered the rather unsettled little 
 library and confronted the redoubtable Mr. Smith. 
 
 The detective had dropped her a line earlier in the 
 
DISTURBING NEWS 355 
 
 week asking for an audience at the earliest possible 
 moment. 
 
 You are worried, madam,” he said, after he had 
 carefully closed the door leading to the hall, and so 
 am L” 
 
 “What do you want now?” she demanded. “You 
 have received your money. There is nothing else 
 that we — ” 
 
 “ Beg pardon, Mrs. Wrandall, but there is some- 
 thing else. Fm not after more money, as you may sus- 
 pect. The size of the matter is, I’m here to put you 
 wise to what’s going on without your knowing any- 
 thing about it. Right or wrong, I’m still interested 
 in this case of yours. Understand me, I haven’t lifted 
 a finger since that day in the country. I’ve quit cold, 
 just as I said I would. The trouble is, other people 
 are still nosing around.” 
 
 “ Sit down, Mr. Smith. Now, tell me what you are 
 here for.” 
 
 Smith followed her example and sat down, drawing 
 a chair quite close to hers. He lowered his voice. 
 
 “ Well, I’ve got next to something I think you ought 
 to know. Maybe old man Wrandall is back of it, but 
 I don’t think he is. You see, so far as outsiders are 
 concerned, that reward still stands. A murder’s a 
 murder and that’s all there is to it. There are men 
 in this business who are going to hunt for that woman 
 until they get her. See what I mean? ” 
 
 “Please go on. I suppose some one else suspects 
 me, and may have to be bought off,” she said so sig- 
 nificantly that he turned a bright red. 
 
 “ Now don’t think that of me, Mrs. Wrandall. I 
 am not in on this, I swear. You paid me of your own 
 free will and I laid down on the job. I don’t deny 
 
356 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 that I expected you to do it. Fm not what you’d call 
 a model of virtue and integrity. I served time in the 
 pen a good many years ago. They say it takes a 
 thief to catch a thief. That’s not true. A detective 
 has to be dead honest or the thief catches him. I 
 think most of the men in my business are honest. 
 They have to be. You may not agree with me, but I 
 thought I was doing the square thing by you last sum- 
 mer. I had a theory and I was honest in believing it 
 was the right one. I thought you’d pay me to drop 
 the matter. I’m now dead sure I was wrong in sus- 
 pecting you for a minute. I’m no fool. I — ” 
 
 Sara interrupted him. 
 
 Will you be good enough to come to the point, Mr. 
 Smith? ” she said coldly. 
 
 “Well,” he said, leaning forward and speaking 
 very deliberately, “ I’ve come here to tell you that the 
 police haven’t quit on the job. They’re about to make 
 a worse mistake than I made.” 
 
 She felt herself turn pale. It required a great ef- 
 fort of the will to suppress the start that might have 
 betrayed her to the keen-eyed observer. 
 
 “ That would be impossible, Mr. Smith,” she said, 
 shaking her head and smiling. 
 
 “ They’ve been watching that Ashtley girl you sent 
 out West just after the — er — thing happened. The 
 show-girl, you’ll remember.” 
 
 He must have observed the swift look of relief that 
 leaped into her eyes. 
 
 “ What arrant stupidity,” she cried, unable to 
 choose her words. “ Why, that unhappy girl is dying 
 a slow and awful death. Surely they can’t be hound- 
 ing her now. Her innocence was clearly established 
 at the time. That is why I felt it to be my duty to 
 
DISTURBING NEWS 357 
 
 help her. She went out to her old home, to die or to 
 get well. They must be fools.” 
 
 “ I’m just telling you, Mrs. Wrandall, that’s all. 
 Maybe you can call ’em off, if you know for a certainty 
 that she’s innocent.” There was something accusing 
 in his manner. 
 
 She became very cautious. My opinion was 
 formed upon the girl’s story, and by what the police 
 said after investigating it thoroughly.” 
 
 It’s a way the police have, madam. They were 
 not satisfied at the time. They simply gave her the 
 rope, that’s all. All this time they’ve had men watch- 
 ing her, day by day, out there in Montana. They say 
 they’ve got new evidence, a lot of it.” 
 
 It is perfectly ridiculous,” she cried, very much 
 distressed. And it must be stopped. I shall see the 
 authorities at once.” 
 
 “ You may be too late. I heard last night that she 
 is to be re-arrested out there and put through a fierce 
 examination. They believe she’s weakening and will 
 confess if they go after her hard enough.” 
 
 Confess.?^ How can she confess when she knows 
 she is innocent ? ” she said sharply. 
 
 You don’t know much about the third degree, Mrs. 
 Wrandall. I’ve known innocent people to confess un- 
 der the bullying — ” 
 
 It must be stopped! Do you hear me? This 
 thing cannot go on.” She began to pace the floor in 
 her agitation. Yes, I have heard of those third de- 
 gree atrocities. You are right, they may brow-beat 
 the poor, sick thing into a confession. Does she know 
 they have been watching her ? ” 
 
 Sure. That’s part of the game. They make it a 
 point to get on the nerves. Something is bound to 
 
358 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 give, sooner or later. They’ve got her scared to death. 
 She knows they’re simply waiting for a chance to 
 catch her unawares and trip her up. I tell you, it’s 
 a fearful strain. Strong men go down under it time 
 and again. What must it be to this half-dead girl, 
 who hasn’t much to be proud of in life at the very 
 best ? ” 
 
 Tell me what to do,” she cried, sitting down again, 
 her eyes suddenly filling with tears. 
 
 I don’t know, ma’am. You see, if we had a grain 
 of proof to work on, we might be able to turn ’em 
 back, but there’s the rub. We can’t say they’re wrong 
 without having something up our sleeves to show that 
 we are right. See what I mean ? ” 
 
 But I tell you she is innocent ! ” 
 
 Can you swear to that, Mrs. Wrandall ? ” 
 
 I — I believe I can,” she said, and then experi- 
 enced a sharp sense of dismay. What possessed her to 
 say it.^ That is, I could stake my — ” 
 
 All that won’t count for anything, if they get a 
 signed confession out of her. Now we both know she 
 is innocent. I’m willing to do what I can to help you. 
 Turn about is fair play. If you want to send me out 
 there. I’ll try to spike their guns. Maybe I can get 
 there in time to put fresh heart in the girl. She’s 
 safe if she doesn’t go to pieces and say something she 
 oughtn’t to say.” 
 
 Oh, this is dreadful,” she cried, harassed beyond 
 words. 
 
 It sure is. You see, the police work on the theory 
 that some one’s just got to be guilty of that crime. 
 If it ain’t the girl out yonder, then who is it? They 
 know her private history. She said enough when she 
 was in custody last year to show that she might have 
 
DISTURBING NEWS 
 
 359 
 
 had a pretty good reason for going after your hus- 
 band — begging your pardon. You remember she 
 said he’d given her the go-by not more than two days 
 before he was killed. They’d been good friends up to 
 then. All of a sudden he chucks her, without cere- 
 mony. She admits she was sore about it. She says 
 she would have done him dirt if she had had the chance. 
 Well, that’s against her. She did prove an alibi, as 
 you remember, but they’re easy to frame up if neces- 
 sary. I don’t think she was clever enough to do the 
 job and get away as slick as the real one did. She 
 was a booze-fighter in those days. They always mess 
 things up. A mighty smooth party did that job. 
 Some one with a good deal more at stake than that 
 poor, reckless girl who didn’t care much what became 
 of her. But the trouble is here: they’ve got her half 
 crazy with fear. First thing we know, she’ll go clear 
 off her head and believe she did it. Then the law will 
 be satisfied. She’s so far gone, I hear, that she won’t 
 live to be brought to trial, of course. There’s some 
 consolation in that.” 
 
 Consolation ! ” cried Sara bitterly. She is bad, 
 as bad as a woman can be, I know, but I can’t feel 
 anything but pity for her now.” 
 
 I guess your husband made her what she was,” 
 said Smith deliberately. I don’t suppose you ever 
 dreamed what was going on.” 
 
 She regarded him with a fixed stare. You are 
 mistaken, Mr. Smith,” she said, and it was his turn to 
 stare. Come back this evening at six. I must con- 
 sult Mr. Carroll. We will decide what action to take.” 
 
 I’d advise you to be quick about it, Mrs. Wran- 
 dall. Something’s bound to happen soon. The time 
 is ripe. I know for a positive fact that they’re expect- 
 
S60 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 ing news from out there every day. It’d be a God’s 
 blessing if the poor wretch could die before they get a 
 chance at her.” 
 
 She started. A God’s blessing,” she repeated 
 dully. 
 
 Pretty hard lines, though,” he mused, fumbling 
 with his hat near the door. Even death wouldn’t 
 clear her of the suspicion. Pretty tough to be branded 
 a murderess, no matter whether you’re in the grave or 
 out of it. I’ll be back at six.” 
 
 She stood perfectly still, and, although her lips 
 were parted, she allowed him to go without- a word in 
 response to his sombre declaration. 
 
 Half an hour later Mr. Carroll was on his way to 
 her apartment, vastly perturbed by the call that had 
 come to him over the telephone. 
 
 While waiting for him to appear, Sara Wrandall 
 deliberately set herself to the task of concocting a 
 likely and plausible excuse for Intervention in behalf 
 of the wretched show-girl. She prepared herself for 
 his argument that the police might be right after all, 
 and that it would be the better part of wisdom to 
 shift the burden to their shoulders. She knew she 
 would be called upon to discount some very sensible 
 advice from the faithful old lawyer. Her reasons 
 would have to be good ones, not mere whims. He was 
 * not likely to be moved by sentimentality. Moreover, 
 he had once expressed doubt as to the girl’s innocence. 
 
 It did not once occur to her that it was Mr. Carroll’s 
 business to respect the secrets of his clients. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 To her secret amazement, the old lawyer did not offer 
 a single protest when she repeated her convictions that 
 the girl was innocent and should be protected against 
 herself as well as against the police. There was some- 
 thing very disquieting in the way he acquiesced. She 
 began to experience a vague, uneasy sense of wonder 
 and apprehension. 
 
 I am beginning to agree with that amiable scoun- 
 drel, Smith,’’ he said, fixing his inscrutable gaze on the 
 snapping coals in the fireplace. A cleverer woman 
 than this Miss — er — What’s-Her-Name managed 
 that affair at Burton’s Inn.” 
 
 She watched his face closely. Somehow she felt that 
 he was about to mention the name of the woman he sus- 
 pected, and it seemed to her that her heart stood still 
 during the moment of suspense. 
 
 He lifted his eyes to her face. She saw something in 
 them that set her to trembling. 
 
 Why not be fair with me, Sara ? ” he asked 
 calmly. She stared at him, transfixed. Who killed 
 Challis WrandalL?” 
 
 She opened her lips to protest against this startling 
 question, but something rushed up from within to com- 
 pletely change the whole course of her conduct; some- 
 thing she could not explain but which swept away 
 every vestige of strength, and left her weak and trem- 
 bling, open-mouthed and pallid, with the liberated 
 truth surging up from its prison to give itself into 
 
 361 
 
362 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 the keeping of this staunch, loyal old friend and coun- 
 sellor. 
 
 Carroll heard her through to the very end of the 
 story without an interruption. Then he crossed over 
 and laid his hands on her shoulders ; there was a gleam 
 of relief and satisfaction in his eyes. 
 
 I am sorry you did not come to me with all this 
 in the beginning, Sara. A few words from me, — 
 kindly words, my dear, — would have shown you the 
 error of your ways and you would have cast out the 
 ugly devils that beset you. You would not have 
 planned the thing you are so ashamed of now. To- 
 gether we could have protected Hetty and she would 
 not be your accuser now. You began nobly. I am 
 sorry you have the other part of it to look back upon. 
 But you may rest assured of one thing: you and Miss 
 Castleton have nothing to fear. We will keep the se- 
 cret, if needs be, but if it should come to the worst no 
 harm would result to her through the law. The main 
 thing now is to protect that unhappy girl out West 
 against the inquisition.” 
 
 She sat with bowed head. 
 
 When Smith returned at six o’clock, he found not 
 only Mr. Carroll waiting for him but Brandon Booth 
 as well. His instructions were clearly defined and con- 
 cise. He was to proceed without delay to Montana, 
 where he was to bolster up the frail girl’s courage and 
 prevent if possible the disaster. Moreover, he was to 
 assure her that Challis Wrandall’s wife forgave her 
 and would contest every effort made by the police to 
 lay the crime at her door. He was empowered to en- 
 gage legal counsel on his arrival in the Western town 
 and to fight every move of the police, not only in be- 
 half of the girl herself, but of Sara Wrandall, who 
 
THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 363 
 
 thus publicly pronounced her faith in the young 
 woman’s innocence. 
 
 It was all very cleverly thought out, and Smith went 
 away without being much wiser than when he came. 
 Before departing he offered this rather sinister con- 
 clusion for Sara’s benefit: 
 
 Of course, Mrs. Wrandall, you understand that 
 the police will wonder why you take such an interest 
 in this girl. They’re bound to think, and so v/ill 
 every one else, that you know a good deal more about 
 the case than you’ve given out. See what I mean ? ” 
 
 They are at liberty to think what they like, Mr. 
 Smith,” said she. 
 
 After Smith had gone, the three discussed the ad- 
 visability of acquainting Hetty with the deplorable 
 conditions that had arisen. 
 
 I don’t believe it would be wise to tell her,” said 
 Booth reflectively. She’d be sure to sacrifice her- 
 self rather than let harm come to this girl. We 
 couldn’t stop her.” 
 
 No, she must not be told,” said Sara, with finality. 
 
 She is almost sure to find this out for herself 
 some time,” said the lawyer dubiously. I think we’d 
 better take her into our confidence. It is only right 
 and just, you know.” 
 
 Not at present, not at present,” said Sara irri- 
 tably. It would ruin everything.” 
 
 Booth appreciated her reasons for delay much more 
 clearly than they appeared to the matter-of-fact law- 
 yer. 
 
 The girl may die at any time,” he explained, ad- 
 dressing Mr. CarroU, but not without a queer thrill of 
 shame. 
 
 That is not what I meant, Brandon,” she ex- 
 
364 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 claimed, I want Hetty to come back with but one 
 motive in her heart. Can’t you see? ” 
 
 As Booth and the lawyer walked down Fifth Avenue 
 toward the club where they were to dine together, the 
 latter, after a long silence, made a remark that dis- 
 turbed the young man vastly. 
 
 She’s going all to pieces, Booth. Bound to col- 
 lapse. That’s the way with these strong-minded, se- 
 cret, pent-up natures. She has brooded all these 
 months and she’s been living a lie. Well, the break 
 has come. She’s told you and me. Now, do you 
 know what I’m afraid will happen ? ” 
 
 I think I know what’s in your mind,” said the 
 younger man seriously. You are afraid she’ll tell 
 others? ” 
 
 The lawyer tapped his forehead significantly. It 
 may result in 
 
 Never!” cried the other emphatically. It will 
 never be that way with her, Mr. Carroll. Her head 
 is as clear as — ” 
 
 Brain fever,” interrupted Carroll, with a gloomy 
 shake of his head. Delirium and all that sort of 
 thing. Haven’t you noticed how ill she looks ? Fever- 
 ish, nervous, irritable? Well, there you are.” 
 
 It is a dreadful state of affairs,” groaned Booth. 
 
 Not especially pleasant for you, my friend.” 
 
 God knows it isn’t ! ” 
 
 I believe, if I were in your place, I’d rather have 
 the truth told broadcast than to live for ever with that 
 peril hanging over me. It would be better for Miss 
 Castleton, too.” 
 
 I am not worrying over that, sir,” said the other 
 earnestly. I shall be able and ready to defend her, 
 no matter what happens. To be perfectly honest with 
 
THE HOLLOW OE HER HAND 
 
 365 
 
 you, I don’t believe she’s accountable to any one but 
 God in this matter. The law has no claim against 
 her, except in a perfunctory way. I don’t deny that 
 it is only right and just that Wrandall’s family should 
 know the truth, if she chooses to reveal it to them. 
 If she doesn’t, I shall be the last to suggest it to her.” 
 
 On that point I thoroughly agree with you. The 
 Wrandall family should know the truth. It is — 
 well, I came near to using the word diabolical — to 
 keep them in ignorance. There is something owing 
 to the Wrandalls, if not to the law.” 
 
 Of course they would make a merciless effort to 
 prosecute her,” said Booth, feeling the cold sweat start 
 on his brow. 
 
 I am not so sure of that, my friend,” was the 
 rather hopeful opinion of the old man. He appeared 
 to be weighing something in his mind, for as they 
 walked along he shook his head from time to time and 
 muttered under his breath, the while his companion 
 maintained a gloomy silence. 
 
 The perceptions of the astute old lawyer were not 
 far out of the way, as developments of the next day 
 were to prove. When Booth called in the afternoon 
 at Sara’s apartment, he was met by the news that she 
 was quite ill and could see no one, — not even him. 
 The doctor had been summoned during the night and 
 had returned in the morning, to find that she had a 
 very high temperature. The butler could not en- 
 lighten Booth further than this, except to add that a 
 nurse was coming in to take charge of Mrs. Wran- 
 dall, more for the purpose of watching her symptoms 
 than for anything else, he believed. At least, so the 
 doctor had said. 
 
 Two days passed before the distressed young man 
 
366 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 could get any definite news concerning her condition. 
 He unconsciously began to think of it as a malady, not 
 a mere illness, due of course to the remark Carroll had 
 dropped. It was Carroll himself who gave a definite 
 report of Sara. He met the lawyer coming away 
 from the apartment when he called to inquire. 
 
 She isn’t out of her head, or anything like that,” 
 said Carroll uneasily, but she’s in a bad way, Booth. 
 She is worrying over that girl out West, of course, 
 but I’ll tell you what I think is troubling her more 
 than anything else. Down in her heart she realises 
 that Hetty Castleton has got to be brought face to 
 face with the Wrandalls.” 
 
 The deuce you say ! ” 
 
 To-day I saw her for the first time. Almost im- 
 mediately she asked me if I thought the Wrandalls 
 would treat Hetty fairly if they ever found out the 
 truth about her. I said I thought they would. I 
 didn’t have the heart to tell her that their grievance 
 undoubtedly would be shifted from Hetty to her, and 
 that they wouldn’t be likely to forgive her for the 
 stand she’d taken. She doesn’t seem to care, however, 
 what the Wrandalls think of her. By the way, have 
 you any influence over Hetty Castleton?” 
 
 I wish I were sure that I had,” said Booth. 
 
 Do you think she would come if you sent her a 
 cablegram ? ” 
 
 I am going over — ” 
 
 She will have your letter in a couple of days, ac- 
 cording to Sara, who seems to have a very faithful 
 correspondent in the person of that maid. I shudder 
 to think of the cable tolls in the past few months! I 
 sometimes wonder if the maid suspects anything more 
 than a loving interest in Miss Castleton. What I was 
 
THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 367 
 
 about to suggest is this: Couldn’t you cable her on 
 Friday saying that Sara is very ill? This is Tues- 
 day. We’ll be having word from Smith to-morrow, I 
 should think.” 
 
 I will cable, of course, but Sara must not know that 
 I’ve done it.” 
 
 Can you come to my office to-morrow afternoon ? ” 
 Yes. To-morrow night I shall go over to Phila- 
 delphia, to be gone till Friday. I hope it will not be 
 necessary for me to stay longer. You never can tell 
 about these operations.” 
 
 I trust everything will go well, Brandon.” 
 
 Several things of note transpired before noon on 
 Friday. 
 
 The Wrandalls arrived from Europe, without the re- 
 calcitrant Colonel. Mr. Redmond Wrandall, who met 
 them at the dock, heaved a sigh of relief. 
 
 He will be over on the Lusitcmia^ next sailing,” 
 said Leslie, who for some reason best known to himself 
 wore a troubled look. 
 
 Mr. Wrandall’s face fell. I hope not,” he said, 
 much to the indignation of his wife and the secret un- 
 easiness of his son. These predatory connections of 
 the British nobility — ” 
 
 Predatory ! ” gasped Mrs. Wrandall. 
 
 — are a blood-sucking lot,” went on the old gentle- 
 man firmly. If he comes to New York, Leslie, I’ll 
 stake my head he won’t be long in borrowing a few 
 thousand dollars from each of us. And he’ll not seek 
 to humiliate us by attempting to pay it back. Oh, I 
 know them.” 
 
 I 
 
 Leslie swallowed rather hard. “ What’s the news 
 here, Dad?” he asked hastily. “Anybody dead?” 
 
368 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Sara is quite illj I hear. Slow fever of some sort, 
 Carroll tells me/’ 
 
 Is she going to marry Brandy Booth? ” asked his 
 
 son. 
 
 Mr. WrandalPs face stiffened. I fear I was a lit- 
 tle hasty in my conclusions. Brandon came to the 
 office a few days ago and informed me in rather plain 
 words that there is absolutely nothing in the report.” 
 
 The deuce you say ! ’Gad, I wrote her a rather 
 intimate letter — ” Leslie got no farther than this. 
 He was somewhat stunned and bewildered by his private 
 reflections. 
 
 Mr. Wrandall was lost in study for some minutes, 
 paying no attention to the remarks of the other occu- 
 pants of the motor that whirled them across town. 
 
 By the way, my dear,” he said to his wife, a trifle 
 irrelevantly, don’t you think it would be right for 
 you and Vivian to drop in this afternoon and see Sara? 
 just to let her know that she isn’t without — ” 
 
 It’s out of the question, Redmond,” said his wife, 
 a shocked expression in her face as much as to say 
 that he must be quite out of his head to suggest such 
 a thing. We shall be dreadfully busy for several 
 days, unpacking and — well, doing all sorts of neces^ 
 sary things.” 
 
 ‘‘ She is pretty sick, I hear,” mumbled he. 
 
 /^Hasn’t she got a nurse?” demanded his wife. 
 
 I merely offered the suggestion in order — ” 
 
 ^^Well, we’ll see her next week. Any other news?” 
 
 Mrs. Booth, Brandon’s mother, was operated on 
 for something or other day before yesterday.” 
 
 Oh, dear! The poor thing! Where?” 
 
 Philadelphia, of course.” 
 
 I wonder if — let me see, Leslie, isn’t there a good 
 
THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 369 
 
 train to Philadelphia at four o’clock? I could go — ” 
 
 “ Really, my dear,” said her husband sharply. 
 
 You forget how busy we are, mother,” said Vivian, 
 without a smile. 
 
 ‘^Nonsense!” said Mrs. Wrandall, in considerable 
 confusion. Was it a serious operation, Redmond?” 
 
 They cut a bone out of her nose, that’s all. 
 Brandon says her heart is weak. They were afraid of 
 the ether. She’s all right, Carroll says.” 
 
 “ Goodness ! ” cried Mrs. Wrandall. One might 
 have suspected a note of disappointment in her voice. 
 
 I shall go up to see Sara this afternoon,” said 
 Vivian calmly. What’s the number of her new 
 apartment ? ” 
 
 You have been up to see her, of course,” said Mrs. 
 Wrandall acidly. 
 
 He fidgetted. I didn’t hear of her illness until 
 yesterday.” 
 
 “ I’ll go up with you, Viv,” said Leslie. 
 
 No, you won’t,” said his sister flatly. I’m going 
 to apologise to her for something I said to Brandon 
 Booth. You needn’t tag along, Les.” 
 
 At half-past five in the afternoon, the Wrandall 
 limousine stopped in front of the tall apartment 
 building near the Park, a footman jerked open the 
 door, and Miss Wrandall stepped out. At the same 
 moment a telegraph messenger boy paused on the side- 
 walk to compute the artistic but puzzling numerals on 
 the imposing grilled doors of the building. 
 
 Miss Wrandall had herself announced by the ob- 
 sequious doorman, and stood by in patience to wait 
 for the absurd rule of the house to be carried out: 
 
 No one could get in without being announced from 
 below,” said the doorman. 
 
3T0 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 I c^n get in all right, all right,” said the messen- 
 ger boy, I got a tellygram for de loidy.” 
 
 Go to the rear ! ” exclaimed the doorman, with 
 some energy. 
 
 While Miss Wrandall waited in Sara’s reception hall 
 on the tenth floor, the messenger, having traversed a 
 more devious route, arrived with his message. 
 
 Watson took the envelope and told him to wait. 
 Five minutes passed. Miss Wrandall grew very un- 
 comfortable under the persistent though complimen- 
 tary gaze of the street urchin. He stared at her, 
 wide-eyed and admiring, his tribute to the glorious. 
 She stared back occasionally, narrow-eyed and reprov- 
 ing, her tribute to the grotesque. 
 
 Will you please step into the drawing-room. Miss 
 Wrandall,” said Watson, returning. He led her 
 across the small foyer and threw open a door. She 
 passed into the room beyond. 
 
 Then he turned to the boy who stood beside the hall 
 seat, making change for a quarter as he approached. 
 
 Here,” he said, handing him the receipt book and a 
 dime, that’s for you.” He dropped the quarter into 
 his own pocket, where it mingled with coins that were 
 strangers to it up to that instant, and imperiously 
 closed the door behind the boy who failed to say 
 
 thank you.” Every man to his trade ! 
 
 There was a woman in the drawing-room when 
 Vivian entered, standing well over against the win- 
 dows with her back to the light. The visitor stopped 
 short in surprise. She had expected to find her sister- 
 in-law in bed, attended by a politely superior person 
 in pure white. 
 
 “ Why, Sara,” she began, I am so glad to see you 
 are up and — ” 
 
THE HOLLOW OF HER HANR 
 
 371 
 
 The other woman came forward. But I am not 
 Sara, Miss Wrandall,” she said, in a well-remembered 
 voice. How do you do ? ” 
 
 Vivian found herself looking into the face of Hetty 
 Castleton. Instantly she extended her hand. 
 
 This is a surprise ! ” she exclaimed. When did 
 you return? Leslie told me your plans were quite set- 
 tled when he saw you in Lucerne. Oh, I see! Of 
 course! How stupid of me. Sara sent for you.” 
 
 She has been quite ill,” said Hetty, non-commit- 
 tally. We got in yesterday. I thought my place 
 was here, naturally.” 
 
 Naturally,” repeated Vivian, in a detached sort 
 of way. How is she to-day? May I see her? ” 
 
 She is very much better. In fact, she is sitting up 
 in her room.” A warm flush suffused her face, a shy 
 smile appeared in her eyes. She is receiving two 
 gentlemen visitors, to be perfectly honest. Miss Wran- 
 dall, her lawyer, Mr. Carroll, and — Mr. Bootii.” 
 
 They were seated side by side on the uncomfortable 
 Louis Seize divan in the middle of the room. 
 
 Perhaps she won’t care to see me, after an audi- 
 ence so fatiguing,” said Miss Wrandall sweetly. 
 
 And so exasperating,” she added, with a smile. 
 
 Hetty looked her perplexity. 
 
 But she will see you. Miss Wrandall — if you 
 don’t mind waiting. It is a business conference they’re 
 having.” 
 
 An ironic gleam appeared in the comer of Vivian’s 
 eye. Oh,” she said, and waited. Hetty smiled un- 
 certainly. All at once the tall American girl was im- 
 pressed by the wistful, almost humble look in the Eng- 
 lishwoman’s eyes, an appealing look that caused her 
 to wonder not a little. Like a flash she jumped at an 
 
372 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 obvious conclusion, and almost caught her breath. 
 This girl loved Booth and was losing him ! Vivian ex- 
 ulted for a moment and then, with an impulse she 
 could not quite catalogue, laid her hand on the other’s 
 slim fingers, and murmured somewhat hazily : Never 
 mind, never mind ! ” 
 
 Oh, you must wait,’^ cried Hetty, not at all in 
 touch with the other’s mood. Sara expects to see 
 you. The men will be out in a few minutes.” 
 
 I think I will run in to-morrow morning,” said 
 Vivian hastily. She arose almost immediately and 
 again extended her hand. So glad to see you back 
 again, Miss Castleton. Come and see me. Give my 
 love to Sara.” 
 
 She took her departure in some haste, and in her 
 heart she was rejoicing that she had not succeeded in 
 making a fool of herself by confessing to Sara that 
 she had said unkind things about her to Brandon 
 Booth. 
 
 Hetty resumed her seat in the broad French window 
 and stared out over the barren tree-tops in the Park. 
 A frightened, pathetic droop returned to her lips. It 
 had been there most of the day. 
 
 In Sara’s boudoir, the doors of which were carefully 
 closed, three persons were in close, even repressed con- 
 ference. The young mistress of the house sat propped 
 up in a luxurious chaise-longue, wan but intense. 
 Confronting her were the two men, leaning forward in 
 their chairs. Mr. Carroll held in his hand a number 
 of papers, prominent among them being three or four 
 telegrams. Booth’s face was radiant despite the se- 
 rious matter that occupied his mind. He had reached 
 town early in the morning in response to a telephone 
 message from Carroll announcing the sudden, unan*^ 
 
THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 873 
 
 noiinced appearance of Hetty Castleton at his ofSces 
 on the previous afternoon. The girl’s arrival had 
 been most unexpected. She walked in on Mr. Car- 
 roll, accompanied by her maid, who had a distinctly 
 sheepish look in her eyes and seemed eager to explain 
 something but could not find the opportunity. 
 
 With some firmness, Miss Castleton had asked Mr. 
 Carroll to explain why the woman had been set to spy 
 upon her every movement, a demand the worthy law- 
 yer could not very well meet for the good and sufBcient 
 reason that he wasn’t very clear about it himself. 
 Then Hetty broke down and cried, confessing that she 
 was eager to go to Mrs. Wrandall, at the same time 
 sobbing out something about a symbolic dicky-bird, 
 much to Mr. Carroll’s wonder and perplexity. 
 
 He sent the maid from the room, and retired with 
 Miss Castleton to the innermost of his private offices, 
 where without much preamble he informed her that he 
 knew everything. Moreover, Mr. Booth was in pos- 
 session of all the facts and was even then on the point 
 of starting for Europe to see her. Of course, his let- 
 ter had failed to reach her in time. There was quite 
 a tragic scene in the seclusion of that remote little 
 office, during which Mr. Carroll wiped his eyes and 
 blew his nose more than once, after which he took it 
 upon himself to despatch a messenger to Sara with the 
 word that he and Miss Castleton would present them- 
 selves within half an hour after his note had been de- 
 livered. 
 
 A telegram already had come from Smith in the 
 far-away Montana town, transmitting news that dis- 
 turbed him more than he cared to admit. The show- 
 girl was lying at the point of death, and he was hav- 
 ing a very hard time of it trying to keep the resolute 
 
S74< 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 authorities from swooping down upon her for the ante- 
 mortem statement they desired. It would appear that 
 he arrived just in time to put courage into the girl. 
 He would see to it that any statement she made would 
 be the truth! But Mr. Carroll was not so sure of 
 Smith’s ability to avert disaster. He knew something 
 of the terrors of the third degree. The police would 
 fight hard for vindication. 
 
 The meeting between Sara and Hetty was affecting. 
 . . . Almost immediately the former began to 
 
 show the most singular signs of improvement. She 
 laughed and cried and joyously announced to the pro- 
 testing nurse that she was feeling quite well again ! 
 And, in truth, she got up from the couch on which she 
 reclined and insisted on being dressed for dinner. In 
 another room the amazed nurse was frantically appeal- 
 ing to Mr. Carroll to let her send for the doctor, only 
 to be confounded by his urbane announcement that 
 Mrs. Wrandall was as right as a string ” and, please 
 God, she wouldn’t need the services of doctor or nurse 
 again for years to come. Then he asked the nurse if 
 she had ever heard of a disease called nostalgia.’’ 
 
 She said she had beard of home-sickness.” 
 
 << Well, that’s what ailed Mrs. Wrandall,” he said. 
 
 Miss Castleton is the cure.^'* 
 
 Booth came the next morning. . . . Even as 
 
 she lay passive in his arms, Hetty denied him. Her 
 arms were around his neck as she miserably whispered 
 that she could not, would not be his wife, notwithstand- 
 ing her love for him and his readiness to accept her as 
 she was. She was obdurate, lovingly, tenderly ob- 
 durate. He would have despaired but for Sara, to 
 whom he afterwards appealed. 
 
 ^^Wait,” was all that Sara had said, but he took 
 
THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 375 
 
 heart. He was beginning to look upon her as a sor- 
 ceress. A week ago he had felt sorry for her; his 
 heart had been touched by her transparent misery. 
 To-day he saw her in another light altogether; as the 
 determined, resourceful, calculating woman who, hav- 
 ing failed to attain a certain end, was now intensely, 
 keenly interested in the development of another of a 
 totally different nature. He could not feel sorry for 
 her to-day. 
 
 Hetty deliberately had placed herself in their hands, 
 withdrawing from the conference shortly before 
 Vivian’s arrival to give herself over to gloomy conjec- 
 tures as to the future, not only for herself, but for 
 the man she loved and the woman she worshipped with 
 something of the fidelity of a beaten dog. 
 
 Carroll had in his hand the second telegram from 
 Smith, just received. 
 
 This relieves the situation somewhat,” he observed, 
 with a deep sigh. She’s dead, and she didn’t give 
 in, thanks to Smith. Rather clever of him to get a 
 signed statement, however, witnessed by the prosecut- 
 ing attorney and the chief of police. It puts an end 
 to everything so far as she is concerned.” 
 
 Read again, Mr. Carroll, what she had to say 
 about me,” said Sara, a slight tremour of emotion in 
 i her voice. 
 
 He read from the lengthy telegram: ^ She wants 
 me to thank Mrs. Wrandall for all she has done to 
 make her last few months happy ones, such as they 
 were. She appreciates her kindness all the more be- 
 cause she realises that her benefactress must have 
 known everything. Almost the last words she spoke 
 were in the nature of a sort of prayer that God would 
 
me THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 forgive her for what she had done to Mrs, Wran- 
 dall.’ ’’ 
 
 Poor girl ! She could not have known that it was 
 justice, not sentiment that moved me to provide for 
 her,” said Sara. 
 
 Well, she is off our minds, at any rate,” said the 
 matter-of-fact lawyer. Now are you both willing 
 to give serious consideration to the plan I propose? 
 Take time to think it over. No harm will come to 
 Miss Castleton, I am confident. There will be a nine 
 days’ sensation, but, after all, it is the best thing for 
 everybody. You propose living abroad. Booth, so 
 what are the odds if — ” 
 
 I shan’t hve abroad unless Hetty reconsiders her 
 decision to not marry me,” said the young man dis- 
 mally. ’Gad, Sara, you must convince her that I 
 love her better than — ” 
 
 I think she knows all that, Brandon. As I said 
 before, wait! And now, Mr. Carroll, I have this to 
 say to your suggestion: I for one am relentlessly op- 
 posed to the plan you advocate. There is no occasion 
 for this matter to go to the public. A trial, you say, 
 would be a mere formality. I am not so sure of that. 
 Why put poor Hetty’s head in the lion’s mouth at this 
 late stage, after I have protected her so carefully all 
 these months? Why take the risk? We know she is 
 innocent. Isn’t it enough that we acquit her in our 
 hearts? No, I cannot consent, and I hold both of you 
 to your promises.” 
 
 There is nothing more I can say, my dear Sara,” 
 said Carroll, shaking his head gloomily, except to 
 urge you to think it over very seriously. Remember, 
 it may mean a great deal to her — and to our eager 
 young friend here. Years from now, like a bolt from 
 
THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 377 
 
 the sky, the truth may come out in some way. Think 
 of what it would mean then.” 
 
 Sara regarded him steadily. There are but four 
 people who know the truth,” she said slowly. It 
 isn’t likely that Hetty or Brandon will tell the story. 
 Professional honour forbids your doing so. That 
 leaves me as the sole peril. Is that what you would 
 imply, my dear friend.? ” 
 
 Not at all,” he cried hastily, not at all. I — ” 
 That’s all tommy-rot, Sara,” cried Booth ear- 
 nestly. ‘‘ We just couldn't have anything to fear 
 from you.” 
 
 With curious inconsistency, she shook her head and 
 remarked : Of course, you never could be quite easy 
 
 in your minds. There would always be the feeling of 
 unrest. Am I to be trusted, after all.? I have proved 
 myself to be a vindictive schemer. What assurance 
 can you and Hetty have that I will not turn against 
 one or the other of you some time and crush you to sat- 
 isfy a personal grievance.? How do you know, Bran- 
 don, that I am not in love with you at this very — ” 
 Good heavens, Sara ! ” he cried, agape. 
 
 — at this very moment ? ” she continued. It 
 would not be so very strange, would it.? I am very 
 human. The power to love is not denied me. Oh, I 
 am merely philosophising. Don’t look so serious. 
 We will suppose that I continued along my career as 
 the woman scorned. You have seen how I smart un- 
 der the lash. Well.? ” 
 
 But all that is impossible,” said Booth, his face 
 clearing. You’re not in love with me, and never 
 can be. That ! for your philosophy ! ” 
 
 At the same instant he became aware of the singu- 
 lar gleam in her eyes; a liquid. Oriental glow that 
 
378 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 seemed to reflect light on her lower lids as she sat 
 there with her face in the shadow. Once or twice be- 
 fore he had been conscious of the mysterious, seductive 
 appeal. He stared back at her, almost defensively, 
 but her gaze did not waver. It was he who first looked 
 away, curiously uncomfortable. 
 
 Still,” she said slowly, I think you would be wise 
 to consider all possible contingencies.” 
 
 Fll take chances, Sara,” he said, with an odd 
 buoyancy in his voice that, for the life of him, he could 
 not explain, even to himself. 
 
 Even admitting that such should turn out to be 
 the case,” said Mr. Carroll judicially, I don’t believe 
 you’d go so far as to put your loyal friends in 
 jeopardy, Sara. So we will dismiss the thought. 
 Don’t forget, however, that you hold them in the hol- 
 low of your hand. My original contention was based 
 on the time-honoured saying, ^ murder will out.’ We 
 never can tell what may turn up. The best laid 
 plans of men and mice oft — ” 
 
 Sara settled back among the cushions with a per- 
 emptory wave of her hand. The loose, flowing sleeve 
 fell away, revealing her white, exquisitely modelled arm 
 almost to the shoulder. For some strange, unaccount- 
 able reason Booth’s eyes fell. 
 
 I am tired, wretchedly tired. It has been a most 
 exhausting day,” she said, with a sudden note of weari- 
 ness in her voice. Both men started up apologetically. 
 
 I will think seriously of your plan, Mr. Carroll. 
 There is no hurry, I’m sure. Please send Miss Wran- 
 dall in to me, will you? Perhaps you would better tell 
 Hetty to come in as soon as Vivian leaves. Come back 
 to-morrow afternoon, Brandon. I shall be much more 
 cheerful. By the way, have you noticed that Dicky, 
 
THE hollow: of. her hand 
 
 379 
 
 out in the library, has been singing all afternoon as 
 if his little throat would split? It is very curious, but 
 to-day is the first time he has uttered a note in nearly 
 five months. Just listen to him! He is fairly riotous 
 with song.’’ 
 
 Booth leaned over and kissed the hand she lifted to 
 him. He is like the rest of us, Sara, inordinately 
 happy.” A slight shiver ran through her arm. He 
 felt it. 
 
 I am so afraid his exuberance of spirit may annoy 
 Vivian,” .said she, with a rare smile. She detests 
 vulgarity.” 
 
 The men departed. She lay back in the chaise- 
 longue, her eyes fixed on the hand he had touched with 
 his lips. 
 
 Watson tapped twice on the door. 
 
 Miss Wrandall could not wait, ma’am,” he said, 
 opening the door softly. She will call again to- 
 morrow.” 
 
 “ Thank you, Watson. Will you hand me the 
 cigarettes? ” 
 
 Watson hesitated. The cigarettes, ma’am?” 
 
 Yes.” 
 
 But the doctor’s orders, ma’am, begging your par- 
 don for — ” 
 
 I have a new doctor, Watson.” 
 
 I beg pardon, ma’am ! ” 
 
 The celebrated Dr. Folly,” she said lightly. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 SARA WRANDALL’s DECISION 
 
 When Smith returned from the Far West, a few days 
 after the events narrated in the foregoing chapter, he 
 repaired at once to Sara’s apartment, bringing with 
 him not only the signed statement of the Ashtley girl, 
 but the well-worn and apparently cherished prayer- 
 book that had been her solace during the^ last few 
 months of her life. On the fly-leaf she had written: 
 
 I have nothing of God’s earthly gifts to leave be- 
 hind but this. It has brought me riches, but it is a 
 poor thing in itself. I bequeath it, my only earthly 
 possession, to the kind and merciful one who taught 
 me that there is good in this bad world of ours.” It 
 was. inscribed to Mrs. Challis Wrandall.” 
 
 She made me promise to give it to you with my 
 own hands, Mrs. Wrandall,” said Smith, in the library, 
 putting as much emotion into his voice and manner 
 as he thought the occasion and the audience demanded. 
 Miss Castleton and Mr. Booth were also present. 
 
 She was a queer girl. I never saw one just like her, 
 believe me. Just after she signed that paper, I had a 
 chance to be alone with her for a minute or two. She 
 asked me to stoop over so’s I could hear what she had 
 to say, and she made me promise not to say a word 
 about it until after she was gone. Well, it will sur- 
 prise you just as much as it did me, what she had to 
 say with her dying breath, so to speak.” He paused 
 for the effect. 
 
 ‘‘What did she say to you.?” demanded Sara. 
 
 “ Well, sir, do you know that that girl knew all 
 380 
 
SARA WRANDALL’S DECISION 
 
 381 
 
 along who it was that went up to Burton’s Inn that 
 evening with your husband? What do you think of 
 that? ” 
 
 There was not a sound in the room. Even the coals 
 in the fireplace seemed to take that instant to hush 
 their blithe crackling. Smith’s listeners might have 
 been absolutely breathless, they were so rigid. Each 
 had the grotesque fear that he was about to point his 
 finger at Hetty Glynn and call upon her to answer to 
 an accusation from the grave. 
 
 The next moment they drew a deep, quivering breath 
 of relief. The detective went on, almost apologet- 
 ically. I tried to bluff her into telling me who she 
 was, Mrs. Wrandall, but she wouldn’t fall for it. 
 After a little while, I saw it was no use questioning 
 her. She was as firm as a rock about it. And she 
 was pretty near gone, I can tell you. As a matter of 
 fact, her heart went back on her suddenly not ten 
 minutes later, sort of surprising all of us. But she 
 did manage to whisper a few things to me while the 
 others were conversing in the hall. She said that she 
 saw another girl with Mr. Wrandall about a week 
 before the murder, a stranger and a very pretty one. 
 He knew how to pick out the pretty — I — I beg your 
 pardon, ma’am. That sort of slipped out. You 
 see — ” 
 
 Never mind. I understand. Go on.” 
 
 Right after that he told her he was through with 
 her. Chucked her, that’s the sum and substance of it, 
 for the new one, whoever she was. She raised a row 
 with him about it, and he laughed at her. For nearly 
 a week she spied on him, and she saw him out in the 
 car with the stranger at least half a dozen times. 
 Now comes the queer part of it, and the thing that 
 
382 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 made her keep her lips closed at first, right after the 
 killing — the murder, I mean. She laid for him in 
 front of his home on the very day of the murder and 
 swore she’d do something desperate if he didn’t give 
 the other one up. He took her to a cheap restaurant 
 on the West Side, and she was sure that several waiters 
 saw that they were quarrelling. To get her out of 
 the place, he induced her to get in his car and they 
 went for a ride out as far as Van Courtlandt Park. 
 The police never got onto all this. But she lived in 
 terror for a few days, believing that the waiters might 
 remember them, although neither of them had ever 
 been in the place before. When she was taken up for 
 examination, she still wondered if they would be called 
 on to identify her. Nothing doing. It was right 
 then, Mrs. Wrandall, that you stepped in and said 
 that her alibi was sufficient, and staked her for life 
 out there in the West. She says she saw the other 
 girl after the murder, but she wouldn’t say where it 
 was or when. Of course, she couldn’t swear that this 
 girl did the job up there at Burton’s, but she was 
 pretty nearly dead certain she was the one who went 
 up there with him. She was just on the point of tell- 
 ing the police about this girl, to save herself, when you 
 helped her out of the fix, and then she got to thinking 
 strange things, she said. This is what she said to me, 
 there on her death-bed, and I want to tell you it gave 
 me an idea of character that I had never come across 
 before in all my experience. She said that if Mrs. 
 Wrandall here could be fine enough to befriend her, 
 knowing all you did, ma’am, about her and your hus- 
 band, it oughtn’t to be hard for her to help another 
 erring girl by keeping her mouth shut. And that’s 
 just what she did. She kept still. That sort of rea- 
 
SABA WRANDALL’S DECISION 
 
 883 
 
 soiling was new to me. But, when you stop to think 
 it over, maybe she was right. A word from her might 
 have sent a fellow creature to the chair. She had had 
 her lesson in charity from you, Mrs. Wrandall, and, 
 while you didn’t mean it to have that effect, you un- 
 doubtedly spoiled the best chance we’ll ever have to 
 get the real woman in the case.” 
 
 There was a moment of tense silence. Booth was 
 the first to risk the effort at speech. 
 
 And she wouldn’t say a word more? She gave 
 you no — no clue ? ” 
 
 Not the faintest idea, sir. She took that girl’s 
 name to the grave with her.” 
 
 Her name! She knew her name?” cried Sara, 
 leaning forward. 
 
 She heard it a day or two after you had her set 
 free, Mrs. Wrandall. Don’t it beat all? Now, don’t 
 you see what might have happened if we’d let the po- 
 lice put the screws on her out there? Why, the 
 chances are, a hundred to one, she would have broken 
 down in the end, and told who this other woman is. 
 There is where we made a fatal mistake. But it’s too 
 late now, confound it.” 
 
 Yes, it’s too late now,” said Sara, relaxing in her 
 chair. 
 
 I’m telling you this, although maybe I wasn’t ex- 
 pected to. She made me promise not to tell the police. 
 Well, I guess I can keep that promise. You ain’t the 
 police.” 
 
 It is a most remarkable story, Mr. Smith,” said 
 Sara, but I do not see that it leads us anywhere. 
 We are quite as much in the dark as before.” 
 
 The detective studied the pattern in the rug at his 
 feet, a defeated look in his eyes. 
 
THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 384 
 
 I suppose I might have forced her to tell mej^Mrs. 
 Wrandall, but I — I didn’t have the heart to bully 
 her. I suppose you’ll always have it in for me for let- 
 ting the chance slip ? ” 
 
 I think I have already told you, Mr. Smith, that I 
 am not at all curious.” 
 
 With the departure of the detective, the three con- 
 spirators fell into an agitated discussion of the reve- 
 lations he had made ; so grave had their peril appeared 
 to be at the opening of his narrative that they were 
 still in a state of perturbation from which they were 
 not to recover for a long time. Their cheeks were 
 white and their eyes were dark with the dread that 
 remained even after the danger was past. Hetty’s 
 arms hung limp and nerveless at her sides as she lay 
 back in the chair and stared numbly at her friends. 
 
 Do you really believe she knew that I was the 
 one? ” she asked miserably. Do you think she knew 
 my name? ” she shuddered. 
 
 ^^What if she did?” demanded Booth with an as- 
 sumption of indifference he was not yet able to feel. 
 
 She was a brick to keep it to herself. The danger’s 
 past, dearest. Don’t let it worry you now.” 
 
 But just think of it! At any time she could have 
 told this story to the police and — Oh, wasn’t it 
 appalling? I thought my heart would never beat 
 again ! ” 
 
 We never loiew till now how close we were to the 
 abyss,” said Sara, drawing the thin wrap closer about 
 her shoulders. Suddenly she laughed. But why 
 contemplate the disaster that didn’t occur? We are 
 more secure than ever. This girl was the only one 
 who knew, because no one else could have had the same 
 incentive to spy upon him, Hetty. She is dead. 
 
SARA WRANDALL’S DECISION 
 
 •385 
 
 Your name isn’t likely to be shouted from the house- 
 tops, for the simple reason that it is safely locked up 
 in a grave.” She hesitated for a moment and then 
 added : In two graves, if it makes you feel more se- 
 cure.’^ 
 
 The others looked at her in open astonishment. 
 
 Booth was frowning. Sara glanced at his stem 
 face and her eyes fell. If that sounded cold and un- 
 feeling, I am sorry, Hetty. It was my unfortunate 
 way of trying to convince you that there is nothing 
 left for you to fear.” 
 
 She left them a moment later, bending over to kiss 
 Hetty’s cheek as she passed by her chair. 
 
 Now, you see what I mean, Brandon, when I in- 
 sist that it would be a mistake for you to marry me,” 
 said Hetty in a troubled voice. We could never be 
 sure of immunity.” 
 
 ‘^You refer to that remark of hers?” 
 
 She is a strange woman. I sometimes have the 
 feeling that she wants to keep me with her for ever. I 
 feel that she will not let me go.” 
 
 That’s pure nonsense, Hetty,” he said. She 
 wants you to marry me, I am positive.” He may 
 have thought his tone convincing, but something 
 caused her to regard him rather fixedly, as if she were 
 trying to solve an elusive puzzle. 
 
 He took her by the arms and raised her to her feet. 
 Holding her quite close, he looked down into her ques- 
 tioning eyes and said very seriously: 
 
 You are suspicious, even of me, dearest. I want 
 you. There is but one way for you to be at peace 
 with yourself: shift your cares over to my shoulders. 
 I will stand between you and everything that may 
 come up to trouble you. We love one another. Why 
 
386 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 should we sacrifice our love for the sake of a shadow? 
 For a week, dearest, Fve been pleading with you; 
 won’t you end the suspense to-day — end it now — 
 and say you will be my wife?” 
 
 The appeal was so gentle, so sincere, so full of long- 
 ing that she wavered. Her tender blue eyes, lately 
 so full of dread, grew moist with the ineffable sweet- 
 ness of love, and capitulation was in them. Her 
 warm, red lips parted in a dear little smile of surren- 
 der. 
 
 You know I love you,” she said tremulously. 
 
 He kissed the lovely, appealing lips, not once but 
 many times. 
 
 God, how I worship you,” he whispered passion- 
 ately. I can’t go on without you, darling. You 
 are life to me. I love you ! I love you ! ” 
 
 She drew back in his arms, the shadow chasing the 
 light out of her eyes. 
 
 We are both living in the present, we are both 
 thinking only of it, Brandon. What of the future? 
 Can we foresee the future? Dear heart, I am always 
 thinking of your future, not my own. Is it right for 
 me to bring you — ” 
 
 And I am thinking only of your future,” he said 
 gravely. The future that shall be mine to shape 
 and to make glad with the fulfilment of every promise 
 that love has in store for both of us. Put away the 
 doubts, drive out the shadows, dearest. Live in the 
 light for ever. Love is light.” 
 
 If I were only sure that my shadows would not 
 descend upon you, I — ” 
 
 He drew her close and kissed her again. 
 
 I am not afraid of your shadows. God be my wit- 
 ness, Hetty, I glory in them. They do not reflect 
 
SARA WRANDALL’S DECISION 
 
 88T 
 
 weakness^ but strength and nobility. They make you 
 all the more worth having. I thank God that you 
 are what you are, dear heart.’’ 
 
 Give me a few days longer, Brandon,” she pleaded. 
 
 Let me conquer this strange thing that lies here in 
 my brain. My heart is yours, my soul is yours. 
 But the brain is a rebel. I must triumph over it, or 
 it will always lie in wait for a chance to overthrow 
 this little kingdom of ours, ^o-day I have been terri- 
 fied. I am disturbed. Give me a few days longer.” 
 
 I would not grant you the respite, were I not so 
 sure of the outcome,” he said gently, but there was a 
 thrill of triumph in the tones. Her eyes grew very 
 dark and soft and her lips trembled with the tide of 
 love that surged through her body. Oh, how ador- 
 able you are ! ” he cried, straining her close in a sud- 
 den ecstasy of passion. 
 
 The door-bell rang. They drew apart, breathing 
 rapidly, their blood leaping with the contact of op- 
 posing passions, their flesh quivering. With a shy, 
 sweet glance at him, she turned toward the door to 
 await the appearance of Watson. He could still feel 
 her in his arms. 
 
 A drawling voice came to them from the vestibule, 
 and a moment later Leslie Wrandall entered the li- 
 brary, pulling off his gloves as he came. 
 
 Hello,” he said glibly. I told that fellow down- 
 stairs it wasn’t necessary to announce me by tele- 
 phone. Silly arrangement, I say. Why the devil 
 should they think everybody’s a thief or a book agent 
 or a constable with a subpoena.^ He knows I’m one 
 of the family. I’m likely to run in any time, I told 
 him, and — Oh, I say, I’m not butting in, am I, Miss 
 Castleton ? ” 
 
388 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 He shook hands with both of them, and then offered 
 his cigarette case to Booth, first selecting one for him^ 
 self. Hetty assured him that he was not de trop^ 
 sheer profligacy on her part in view of his readiness 
 to concede the point without a word from her. 
 
 “ Nipping wind,’’ he said, taking his stand before 
 the fireplace. Where is Sara? Never mind, don’t 
 bother her. I’ve got all the time in the world. By 
 the way. Miss Castleton, what is the latest news from 
 your father? ” 
 
 I dare say you have later news than I,” she said, 
 a trace of annoyance in her manner. 
 
 I thought perhaps he had written you about his 
 plans.” 
 
 My father does not know that I have returned to 
 New York.” 
 
 Oh, I see. Of course. Um — um ! By the way, 
 I think the Colonel is a corker. One of the most 
 amiable thoroughbreds I’ve ever come across. Rip- 
 ping. He’s never said anything to me about your an- 
 tipathy toward him, but I can see with half an eye 
 that he is terribly depressed about it. Can’t you get 
 together some way on — ” 
 
 Really, Mr. Wrandall, you are encouraging your 
 imagination to a point where words ultimately must 
 fail you,” she said very positively. Booth could 
 hardly repress a chuckle. 
 
 It’s not imagination on my part,” said Leslie with 
 conviction, failing utterly to recognise the obvious. 
 
 I suppose you know that he is coming over to visit 
 me for six weeks or so. We became rattling good 
 friends before we parted. By Jove, you should hear 
 him on old Lord Murgatroyd’s will ! The quintessence 
 of wit! I couldn’t take it as he does. Expectations 
 
SAKA WRANDALL’S DECISION 
 
 889 
 
 and all that sort of thing, you know, going up like a 
 hot air balloon and bursting in plain view. But he 
 never squeaked. Laughed it off. A British attribute, 
 I dare say. I suppose you know that he is obliged to 
 sell his estate in Ireland.” 
 
 Hetty started. She could not conceal the look of 
 shame that leaped into her eyes. 
 
 I — I did not know,” she murmured. 
 
 Must be quite a shock to you. Sit down. Brandy. 
 You look very picturesque standing, but chairs were 
 made to sit upon — or in, whichever is proper.” 
 
 Booth shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 I think I’ll stand, if you don’t mind, Les.” 
 
 I merely suggested it, old chap, fearing you might 
 have overlooked the possibilities. Yes, Miss Castie- 
 ton, he left us in London to go up to Belfast on this 
 dismal business.” There was something in the back 
 of his mind that he was trying to get at in a tactful 
 manner. “By the way, is this property entailed?” 
 
 I know nothing at all about it, Mr. Wrandall,” 
 said she, with a pleading glance at her lover, as if to 
 inquire what stand she should take in this distressing 
 situation. 
 
 “ If it is entailed he can’t sell it,” said Booth quietly. 
 
 That’s true,” said Leslie, somewhat dubiously. 
 Then, with a magnanimity that covered a multitude of 
 doubts he added : “ Of course, I am only interested in 
 seeing that you are properly protected. Miss Castle- 
 ton. I’ve no doubt you hold an interest in the es- 
 tates.” 
 
 “ I can’t very well discuss a thing I know absolutely 
 nothing about,” she said succinctly. 
 
 Most of it is in building lots and factories in Bel- 
 fast, of course.” It was more in the nature of a ques- 
 
390 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 tion than a declaration. “ The old family castle isn’t 
 very much of an asset, I take it.” 
 
 I fancy you can trust Colonel Castleton to make 
 the best possible deal in the premises,” said Booth drily. 
 
 I suppose so,” said the other resignedly. He 
 is a shrewd beggar, I’m convinced of that. Strange, 
 however, that I haven’t heard a word from him since 
 he left us in London. I’ve been expecting a cable- 
 gram from him every day for nearly a fortnight, let- 
 ting me know when to expect him.” 
 
 Hetty had gone over to the window and was looking 
 out over the darkening park. 
 
 Perhaps he means to surprise you, old man,” said 
 Booth, with a smile that Leslie did not in the least in- 
 terpret. 
 
 With a furtive glance at the girl, whose back was 
 toward them, he got up from his chair and came quite 
 close to Booth, frowning slightly as he plucked at his 
 moustache with nervous fingers. Lowering his voice to 
 a cautious half-whisper, he inquired : 
 
 I say. Brandy, what do you know about him.? Is 
 he on the level, or is he a damned old rascal.? ” 
 
 Did you lend him any money .? ” asked Booth, with 
 a malicious grin. 
 
 Leslie gulped. A fine perspiration broke out on his 
 forehead. Yes, I did,” he replied, and, on reflection, 
 slyly kicked himself on the ankle, making sure how- 
 ever that Hetty was still looking the other way. 
 
 Go on! Break it rudely. He’s no good, eh.? A 
 shark, eh.?” 
 
 “ Believe me, I don’t know anything about him, 
 Les,” said Booth, with a sudden feeling of loyalty to 
 the Colonel’s daughter. He may pay up.” 
 
 Leslie snapped his fingers while they were on the 
 
SARA WRANDAIX’S DECISION 
 
 391 
 
 way to his upper lip, and almost missed his moustache 
 by the digression. At any rate, he seemed to be fum- 
 bling for it. 
 
 I did it on her account,” he explained, nodding his 
 head in Hetty’s direction. He thought hard for a 
 moment. “ Of course, he won’t be such a blithering 
 fool as to come over here, will he?” 
 
 I shouldn’t, if I had been able to get what I wanted 
 at home, as he very obviously did,” said Booth piti- 
 lessly. How much was it? ” 
 
 Leslie waved his hand disdainfully. Oh, a few 
 hundred pounds, that’s all. No harm done.” 
 
 Are you. going to California this winter for the 
 flying? ” asked Hetty, coming toward them. 
 
 Sara entered at that juncture, and they all sat down 
 to listen for half an hour to Leslie’s harangue on the 
 way the California meet was being mismanaged, at the 
 end of which he departed. 
 
 He took Booth away with him, much to that young 
 man’s disgust. 
 
 Do you know, Brandy, old fellow,” said he as they 
 walked down Fifth Avenue in the gathering dusk of the 
 early winter evening, ever since I’ve begun to sus- 
 pect that damned old humbug of a father of hers, I’ve 
 been congratulating myself that there isn’t the remot- 
 est chance of his ever becoming my father-in-law. 
 And, by George, you’ll never know how near I was to 
 leaping blindly into the brambles. What a close call 
 I had!” 
 
 Booth’s sarcastic smile was hidden by the dusk. He 
 made no pretence of openly resenting the meanness of 
 spirit that moved Leslie to these caddish remarks. He 
 merely announced in a dry, cutting voice: 
 
 “ I think Miss Castleton is to be congratulated that 
 
392 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 her injury is no greater than Nature made it in the 
 beginning.” 
 
 What do you mean by ^ nature ^ ” 
 
 Nature gave her a father, didn’t it?^^ 
 
 Obviously.” 
 
 Well, why add insult to injury.?^” 
 
 By Jove! Oh, I say^ old man!” 
 
 They parted at the next corner. As Booth started 
 to cross over to the Plaza, Leslie called out after him: 
 
 I say. Brandy, just a second, please. Are you 
 going to marry Miss Castleton? ” 
 
 I am.” 
 
 Then, I retract the scurvy things I said back 
 there. I asked her to marry me three times and she 
 refused me three times. What I said about the bram- 
 bles was rotten. I’d ask her again if I thought she’d 
 have me. There you are, old fellow. I’m a rotten 
 cad, but I apologise to you just the same.” 
 
 You’re learning, Leslie,” said Booth, taking the 
 hand the other held out to him. 
 
 While the painter was dining at his club later on 
 in the evening, he was called to the telephone. Watson 
 was on the wire. He said that Mrs. Wrandall would 
 like to know if Mr. Booth could drop in on her for a 
 few minutes after dinner, to discuss a very important 
 matter, if you please, sir.” At nine o’clock, Booth 
 was in Sara’s library, trying to grasp a new and re- 
 markable phase in the character of that amazing 
 woman. 
 
 He found Hetty waiting for him when he arrived. 
 I don’t know what it all means, Brandon,” she 
 said hurriedly, looking over her shoulder as she spoke. 
 
 Sara says that she has come to a decision of some 
 sort. She wants us to hear her plan before making 
 
SARA WRANDALL’S DECISION 
 
 393 
 
 it final. I — I don’t understand her at all to-night.” 
 
 It can’t be anything serious, dearest,” he said, but 
 something cold and nameless oppressed him just the 
 same. 
 
 She asked me if I had finally decided to — to be 
 your wife, Brandon. I said I had asked you for two 
 or three days more in which to decide. It seemed to 
 depress her. She said she didn’t see how she could 
 give me up, even to you. She wants to be near me 
 always. It is — it is really tragic, Brandon.” 
 
 He took he hands in his. 
 
 We can fix that,” said he confidently. “ Sara 
 can live with us if she feels that way about it. Our 
 home shall be hers when she likes, and as long as she 
 chooses. It will be open to her all the time, to come 
 and go or to stay, just as she elects. Isn’t that the 
 way to put it ? ” 
 
 I suggested something of the sort, but she wasn’t 
 very much impressed. Indeed, she appeared to be 
 somewhat — yes, I could not have been mistaken, — 
 somewhat harsh and terrified when I spoke of it. 
 Afterwards she was more reasonable. She thanked me 
 and — there were tears in her eyes at the time — and 
 said she would think it over. AU she asks is that I 
 may be happy and free and untroubled all the rest of 
 my life. This was before dinner. At dinner she ap- 
 peared to be brooding over something. When we left 
 the table she took me to her room and said that she 
 had come to an important decision. Then she in- 
 structed Watson to find you if possible.” 
 
 ’Gad, it’s all very upsetting,” he said, shaking his 
 head. 
 
 I think her conscience is troubling her. She hates 
 the Wrandalls, but I — I don’t know why I should 
 
394f 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 / 
 
 feel as I do about it^ — but I believe she wants them 
 to know ! ” 
 
 He stared for a moment, and then his face bright- 
 ened. And so do I, Hetty, so do I ! They ought 
 to know ! ” 
 
 I should feel so much easier if the whole world 
 knew,” said she earnestly. 
 
 Sara heard the girPs words as she stood in the door. 
 She came forward with a strange, — -even abashed, — 
 smile, after closing the door behind her. 
 
 I don’t agree with you, dearest, when you say that 
 the world should know, but I have come to the con- 
 clusion that you should be tried and acquitted by a 
 jury made up of ChaUis Wrandall’s own flesh and 
 blood. The Wrandalls must know the truth.” 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE JURY OP POUR 
 
 The Wrandalls sat waiting and wondering. They 
 h^d been sent for and they had deigned to respond, 
 much to their own surprise. Redmond Wrandall oc- 
 cupied a place at the head of the library table. At 
 his right sat his wife. Vivian and Leslie, by direc- 
 tion, took seats at the side of the long table, which 
 had been cleared of its mass of books and magazines. 
 Lawyer Carroll was at the other end of the table, per- 
 ceptibly nervous and anxious. Hetty sat a little apart 
 from the others, a rather forlorn, detached member 
 of the conclave. Brandon Booth, pale-faced and 
 alert, drew up a chair alongside Carroll, facing Sara 
 who alone remained standing, directly opposite the four 
 Wrandalls. 
 
 Not one of the Wrandalls knew why they, as a 
 family, were there. They had not the slightest pre- 
 monition of what was to come. 
 
 The strong glare of an electric chandelier, seldom 
 used in this quiet, subdued little library, threw its 
 light down upon the group, outlining every feature 
 with a sharpness that almost created shadows. It was 
 a trying light. No play of the emotions could be lost 
 under its convicting glow. A clock struck nine. Out- 
 side the first savage storm of the winter was raging. 
 
 The Wrandalls had been routed from their comfort- 
 able fireside — for what ? They were asking the ques- 
 tion of themselves and they were waiting stonily for the 
 answer. 
 
 It is very stuffy in here,” Vivian had said with 
 395 
 
396 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 a glance at the closed doors after Sara had success- 
 fully placed her jury in the box. 
 
 Kieep still, Viv,’’ whispered Leslie, with a fine as- 
 sumption of awe. It’s a spiritualistic meeting. 
 You’ll scare the spooks away.” 
 
 It was at this juncture that Sara rose from her 
 chair and faced them, as calmly, as complacently as 
 if she were about to ask them to proceed to the dining- 
 room instead of to throw a bomb into their midst that 
 would shatter their smug serenity for all time to come. 
 With a glance at Mr. Carroll she began, clearly, firmly 
 and without a prefatory apology for what was to 
 follow. 
 
 I have asked you to come here to-night to be my 
 judges. I am on trial. You are about to hear the 
 story of my unspeakable perfidy. I only require of 
 you that you hear me to the end before passing judg- 
 ment.” 
 
 At her words, Hetty and Booth started perceptibly; 
 a quick glance passed between them, as if each was in- 
 quiring whether the other had caught the extraordi- 
 nary words of self-indictment. A puzzled frown ap- 
 peared on Hetty’s brow. 
 
 ‘^Perfidy?” interposed Mr. Wrandall. His wife’s 
 expression changed from one of bored indifference to 
 sharp inquiry. Leslie paused in the act of lighting 
 a cigarette. 
 
 It is the mildest term I can command,” said Sara. 
 
 I shall be as brief as possible in stating the case, Mr. 
 Wrandall. You will be surprised to hear that I have 
 taken it upon myself, as the wife of Challis Wrandall 
 and, as I regard it, the one most vitally concerned if 
 not interested in the discovery and punishment of the 
 person who took his life, — I say I have taken it upon 
 
THE JURY OF FOUR 
 
 S9T 
 
 myself to shield, protect and defend the unhappy 
 young woman who accompanied him to Burton’s Inn 
 on that night in March. She has had my constant, 
 my personal protection for more than twenty months.” 
 
 The Wrandalls leaned forward in their chairs. 
 The match burned Leslie’s fingers, and he dropped it 
 without appearing to notice the pain. 
 
 ^^What is this you are saying?” demanded Red- 
 mond Wrandall. 
 
 When I left the inn that night, after seeing my 
 husband’s body in the little upstairs room, I said to 
 myself that the one who took his life had unwittingly 
 done me a service. He was my husband; I loved him, 
 I adored him. To the end of my days I could have 
 gone on loving him in spite of the cruel return he gave 
 for my love and loyalty. I shall not attempt to tell 
 you of the countless lapses of fidelity on his part. You 
 would not believe me. But he always came back to 
 me with the pitiful love he had for me, and I forgave 
 him his transgressions. These things you know. He 
 confessed many things to you, Mr. Wrandall. He 
 humbled himself to me. Perhaps you will recall that 
 I never complained to you of him. What rancour I 
 had was always directed toward you, his family, who 
 would see no wrong in your king but looked upon me 
 as dirt beneath his feet. There were moments when I 
 could have slain him with my own hands, but my heart 
 rebelled. There were times when he said to me that I 
 ought to kill him for the things he had done. You 
 may now understand what I mean when I say that the 
 girl who went to Burton’s Inn with him did me a serv- 
 ice. I will not say that I considered her guiltless at 
 the time. On the contrary, I looked upon her in quite 
 a different way. I had no means of knowing then 
 
398 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 that she was as pure as snow and that he would have 
 despoiled her of everything that was sweet and sacred 
 to her. She took his life in order to save that which 
 was dearer to her than her own life, and she was on 
 her way to pay for her deed with her life if necessary 
 when I came upon her and intervened.’’ 
 
 You — you know who she is?” said Mr. Wran- 
 dall, in a low, incredulous voice. 
 
 I have known almost from the beginning. Pres- 
 ently you will hear her story, from her own lips.” 
 
 Involuntarily four pairs of eyes shifted. They 
 looked blankly at Hetty Castleton. 
 
 Speaking swiftly, Sara depicted the scenes and sen- 
 sations experienced during that memorable motor jour- 
 ney to New York City. 
 
 I could not believe that she was a vicious creature^ 
 even then. Something told me that she was a tender, 
 gentle thing who had fallen into evil hands and had 
 struck because she was unevil. I did not doubt that 
 she had been my husband’s mistress, but I could not 
 destroy the conviction that somehow she had been jus- 
 tified in doing the thing she had done. My gravest 
 mistake was in refusing to hear her story in all of its 
 details. I only permitted her to acknowledge that she 
 had killed him, no more. I did not want to hear the 
 thing which I assumed to be true. Therein lies my 
 deepest fault. For months and months I misjudged 
 her in my heart, yet secretly loved her. ^ Now I under- 
 stand why I loved her. It was because she was inno- 
 cent of the only crime I could lay at her feet. Now 
 I come to the crime of which I stand self-accused. I 
 must have been mad all these months. I have no other 
 defence to offer. You may take it as you see it for 
 yourselves. I do not ask for pardon. After I de- 
 
THE JURY OF FOUR 
 
 899 
 
 iiberately had set about to shield this unhappy girl, — ■ 
 to cheat the law, if you please, — to cheat you, perhaps, 
 ' — I conceived the horrible thought to avenge myself 
 for all the indignities I had sustained at the hands of 
 you Wrandalls, and at the same time to even my ac- 
 count with the one woman whom I could put my finger 
 upon as having robbed me of my husband’s love. You 
 see I put it mildly. I have hated all of you, Mrs. 
 Wrandall, even as you have hated me. To-day, — 
 now, — I do not feel as I did in other days toward you. 
 I do not love you, still I do not hate you. I do not 
 forgive you, and yet I think I have come to see things 
 from your point of view. I can only repeat that I 
 do not hate you as I once did.” 
 
 She paused. The Wrandalls were too deeply sub- 
 merged in horror to speak. They merely stared at 
 her as if stupefied; as breathless, as motionless as 
 stones. 
 
 There came a day when I observed that Leslie was 
 attracted by the guest in my house. On that day the 
 plan took root in my brain. I — ” 
 
 Good God! ” fell from Leslie’s lips. You — you 
 had that in mind?” 
 
 It became a fixed, inflexible purpose, Leslie. Not 
 that I hated you as I hated the rest, for you tried to 
 be considerate. The one grudge I held against you 
 was that in seeking to sustain me you defamed your 
 own brother. You came to me with stories of his mis- 
 deeds ; you said that he was a scoundrel and that you 
 would not blame me for ^ showing him up.’ Do you 
 not remember? And so my plot involved you; you 
 were the only one through whom I could strike. There 
 were times when I faltered. I could not bear the 
 thought of sacrificing Hetty Castleton, nor was it 
 
400 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 easy to thoroughly appease my conscience in respect 
 to you. Still, if I could have had my way a few 
 months ago, if coercion had been of any avail, you 
 would now be the husband of your brother’s slayer. 
 Then I came to know that she was not what I had 
 thought she was. She was honest. My bubble burst. 
 I came out of the maze in which I had been living and 
 saw clearly that what I had contemplated was the 
 most atrocious — ” 
 
 Atrocious ?” cried Mrs. Redmond Wrandall be- 
 tween her set teeth. Diabolical ! Diabolical ! My 
 God, Sara, what a devil you — ” She did not complete 
 the sentence, but sank back in her chair and stared 
 with wide, horror-struck eyes at her rigid daughter- 
 in-law. 
 
 Her husband, his hand shaking as if with palsy, 
 pointed a finger at Hetty. And so you are the one 
 we have been hunting for all these months. Miss Cas- 
 tleton! You are the one we want! You who have sat 
 at our table, you who have smiled in our faces — ” 
 
 Stop, Mr. Wrandall I ” commanded Sara, noting 
 the ashen face of the girl. Don’t let the fact escape 
 you that I am the guilty person. Don’t forget that 
 she owed her freedom, if not her life to me. I alone 
 kept her from giving herself up to the law. All that 
 has transpired since that night in March must be 
 placed to my account. Hetty Castleton has been my 
 prisoner. She has rebelled a thousand times and I 
 have conquered — not by threats but by love! Do 
 you understand.^ Because of her love for me, and be- 
 cause she believed that I loved her, she submitted. 
 You are not to accuse her, Mr. Wrandall. Accuse 
 me! I am on trial here. Hetty Castleton is a wit- 
 ness against me, if you choose to call upon her as 
 
THE JURY OF FOUR 401 
 
 such. If not, I shall ask her to speak in my defence, 
 if she can do so.” 
 
 This is lunacy!” cried Mr. Wrandall, coming to 
 liis feet. I don’t care what your motives may have 
 been. They do not make her any the less a murder- 
 ess. She — ” 
 
 We must give her over to the police — ” began 
 his wife, struggling to her feet. She staggered. It 
 was Booth who stepped quickly to her side to support 
 her. Leslie was staring at Hetty. 
 
 Vivian touched her father’s arm. She was very pale 
 but vastly more composed than the others. 
 
 Father, listen to me,” she said. Her voice trem- 
 bled in spite of her effort to control it. We are 
 condemning Miss Castleton unheard. Let us hear 
 everything before we — ” 
 
 ^^Good God, Vivian! Do you mean to — ” 
 
 How can we place any reliance on what she may 
 say?” cried Mrs. Wrandall. 
 
 Nevertheless,” said Vivian firmly, I for one shall 
 not condemn her unheard. I mean to be as fair to 
 her as Sara has been. It shall not be said that all the 
 Wrandalls are smaller than Sara Gooch ! ” 
 
 My child — ” began her father incredulously. 
 His jaw dropped suddenly. His daughter’s shot had 
 landed squarely in the heart of the Wrandall pride. 
 
 If she has anything to say,” — said Mrs. Wrandall, 
 waving Booth aside and sinking stiffly into her chair. 
 Her husband sat down. Their jaws set hard. 
 
 “ Thank you, Vivian,” said Sara, surprised in spite 
 of herself. You are nobler than I — ” 
 
 Please don’t thank me, Sara,” said Vivian icily. 
 
 I was speaking for Miss Castleton.” 
 
 Sara flushed. I suppose it is useless to ask you 
 
402 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 to be fair to Sara Gooch, as you choose to "call me,’' 
 
 Do you feel in your heart that we still owe you 
 anything? ” 
 
 Enough of this, Vivian,” spoke up her father 
 harshly, If Miss Castleton desires to speak we will 
 listen to her. I must advise you. Miss Castleton, that 
 the extraordinary disclosures made by my daughter- 
 in-law do not lessen your culpability. We do not in- 
 sist on this confession from you. You deliver it at 
 your own risk. I want to be fair with you. If Mr. 
 Carroll is your counsel, he may advise you now to refuse 
 to make a statement.” 
 
 Mr. Carroll bowed slightly in the general direction 
 of the Wrandalls. “ I have already advised Miss Cas- 
 tleton to state the case fully and completely to you, 
 Mr. Wrandall. It was I who originally suggested this 
 — well, what you might call a private trial for her. 
 I am firmly convinced that when you have heard her 
 story, you, as her judges, will acquit her of the charge 
 of murder. Moreover, you will be content to let your 
 own verdict end the matter, sparing yourselves the 
 shame and ignominy of having her story told in a 
 criminal court for the delectation of an eager but 
 somewhat implacable world.” 
 
 Your language is extremely unpleasant, Mr. Car- 
 roll,” said Mr. Wrandall coldly. 
 
 I meant to speak kindly, sir.” 
 
 Do you mean, sir, that we will let the matter rest 
 after hearing the — ” 
 
 That is precisely what I mean, Mr. Wrandall. 
 You. will not consider her guilty of a crime. Please 
 bear in mind this fact: but for Sara and Miss Castle- 
 ton you would not have known the truth. Miss Cas- 
 tleton could not be convicted in a court of justice. 
 
THE JURY OF FOUR 40S 
 
 Nor will she be convicted here this evening, in this 
 little court of ours.” 
 
 Miss Castleton is not on trial,” interposed Sara 
 calmly. “ I am the offender. She has already been 
 tried and proved innocent.” 
 
 Leslie, in his impatience, tapped sharply on the ta- 
 ble with his seal ring. 
 
 Please let her tell the story. Permit me to say. 
 Miss Castleton, that you will not find the Wrandalls 
 as harsh and vindictive as you may have been led to 
 believe.” 
 
 Mrs. Wrandall passed her hand over her eyes. To 
 think that we have been friendly to this girl all 
 these - — ” 
 
 Calm yourself, my dear,” said her husband, after 
 a glance at his son and daughter, a glance of unspeak- 
 able helplessness. He could not understand them. 
 
 As Hetty arose, Mrs. Wrandall senior lowered her 
 eyes and not once did she look up during the recital 
 that followed. Her hands were lying limply in her 
 lap, and she breathed heavily, almost stertoriously. 
 The younger Wrandalls leaned forward with their 
 clear, unwavering gaze fixed on the earnest face of the 
 young Englishwoman who had slain their brother. 
 
 You have heard Sara accuse herself,” said the 
 girl slowly, dispassionately. The shock was no 
 greater to you than it was to me. All that she has 
 said is true, and yet I — I would so much rather she 
 had left herself unarraigned. We were agreed that I 
 should throw myself on your mercy. Mr. Carroll said 
 that you were fair and just people, that you would 
 not condemn me under the circumstances. But that 
 Sara should seek to take the blame is — ” 
 
 Alas, my dear, I am to blame,” said Sara, shaking 
 
404 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 her head. But for me your story would have been 
 told months ago, the courts would have cleared you, 
 and all the world would have execrated my husband 
 for the thing he did — my husband and your son, Mrs. 
 Wrandall, — whom we both loved. God believe me, I 
 think I loved him more than all of you put together ! 
 
 She sat down abruptly and buried her face in her 
 arms on the edge of the table. 
 
 If I could only induce you to forgive her,’’ began 
 Hetty, throwing out her hands to the Wrandalls, only 
 to be met by a gesture of repugnance from the grim 
 old man. 
 
 Your story. Miss Castleton,” he said hoarsely. 
 
 From the beginning, if you please,” added the law- 
 yer quietly. Leave out nothing.” 
 
 Clearly, steadily and with the utmost sincerity in 
 her voice and manner, the girl began the story of her 
 life. She passed hastily over the earlier periods, 
 frankly exposing the unhappy conditions attending her 
 home life, her subsequent activities as a performer on 
 the London stage after Colonel Castleton’s defec- 
 tion ; the few months devoted to posing for Hawkright 
 the painter, and later on her engagement as gover- 
 ness in the wealthy Budlong family. She devoted 
 some time and definiteness to her first encounter 
 with Challis Wrandall on board the westbound steamer, 
 an incident that came to pass in a perfectly natural 
 way. Her deck chair stood next to his, and he was 
 not slow in making himself agreeable. It did not oc- 
 cur to her till long afterwards that he deliberately had 
 traded positions with an elderly gentleman who occu- 
 pied the chair on the first day out. Before the end 
 of the voyage they were very good friends. 
 
 When we landed in New York, he assisted me in 
 
THE JURY OF FOUR 
 
 405 
 
 many ways. Afterwards, on learning that I was not 
 to go California, I called him up on the telephone to 
 explain my predicament. He urged me to stay in 
 New York; he guaranteed that there would be no diffi- 
 culty in securing a splendid position in the East. I 
 had no means of knowing that he was married. I ac- 
 cepted him for what I thought him to be: a genuine 
 American gentleman. They are supposed to be par- 
 ticularly considerate with women. His conduct toward 
 me was beyond reproach. I have never known a man 
 who was so courteous, so gentle. To me, he was the 
 most fascinating man in the world. No woman could 
 have resisted him, I am sure of that.” 
 
 She shot a quick, appealing glance at Booth’s hard- 
 set face. Her lip trembled for a second. 
 
 I fell madly in love with him,” she went on reso- 
 lutely. I dreamed of him, I could hardly wait for 
 the time to come when I was to see him. He never 
 came to the wretched little lodging house I have told 
 you about. I — I met him outside. One night he 
 told me that he loved me, loved me passionately. I - — 
 I said that I would be his wife. Somehow it seemed 
 to me that he regarded me very curiously for a mo- 
 ment or two. He seemed to be surprised, uncertain. 
 I remember that he laughed rather queerly. It did 
 not occur to me to doubt him. One day he came for 
 me, saying that he wanted me to see the little apart- 
 ment he had taken, where we were to live after we were 
 married. I went with him. He said that if I liked 
 it, I could move in at once, but I would not consent to 
 such an arrangement. For the first time I began to 
 feel that everything was not as it should be. I- — I 
 remained in the apartment but a few minutes. The 
 next day he came to me. greatly excited and more 
 
406 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 demonstrative than ever before, to say that he had 
 arranged for a quiet, jolly little wedding up in the 
 country. Strangely enough I experienced a queer 
 feeling that all was not as it should be, but his eager- 
 ness, his persistence dispelled the small doubt that 
 had begun even then to shape itself. I consented to go 
 with him on the next night to an inn out in the coun- 
 try, where a college friend who was a minister of the 
 gospel would meet us, driving over from his parish a 
 few miles away. I said that I preferred to be married 
 in a church. He laughed and said it could be ar- 
 ranged when we got to the inn and had talked it over 
 with the minister. Still uneasy, I asked why it was 
 necessary to employ secrecy. He told me that his 
 family were in Europe and that he wanted to surprise 
 them by giving them a daughter who was actually re- 
 lated to an English nobleman. The family had been 
 urging him to marry a stupid but rich New York girl 
 and he — oh, well, he uttered a great deal of nonsense 
 about my beauty, my charm, and all that sort of 
 thing — ’’ 
 
 She paused for a moment. No one spoke. Her 
 audience of judges, with the exception of the elder 
 Mrs. Wrandall, watched her as if fascinated. Their 
 faces were almost expressionless. With a perceptible 
 effort, she resumed her story, narrating events that 
 carried it up to the hour when she walked into the lit- 
 tle upstairs room at Burton’s Inn with the man who 
 was to be her husband. 
 
 I did not see the register at the inn. I did not 
 know till afterwards that we were not booked. Once 
 upstairs, I refused to remove my hat or my veil or my 
 coat until he brought his friend to me. He pretended 
 to be very angry over his friend’s failure to be there 
 
THE JURY OF FOUR 
 
 407 
 
 beforehand, as he had promised. He ordered a sup- 
 per served in the room. I did not eat anything. 
 Somehow I was beginning to understand, vaguely of 
 course, but surely — and bitterly, Mr. Wrandall. 
 Suddenly he threw off the mask. 
 
 He coolly informed me that he knew the kind of girl 
 I was. I had been on the stage. He said it was no 
 use trying to work the marriage game on him. He 
 was too old a bird and too wise to fall for that. Those 
 were his words. I was horrified, stunned. When I 
 began to cry out in my fury, he laughed at me but 
 swore he would marry me even at that if it were not 
 for the fact that he already was married. ... I 
 tried to leave the room. He held me. He kissed me 
 a hundred times before I could break away. I — I 
 tried to scream. ... A little later on, when I 
 was absolutely desperate, I — I snatched up the knife. 
 There was nothing else left for me to do. I struck 
 at him. He fell back on the bed. ... I stole 
 out of the house — oh, hours and hours afterward it 
 seemed to me. I cannot tell you how long I stood 
 there watching him. ... I was crazed by fear. 
 I — I—” 
 
 Redmond Wrandall held up his hand. 
 
 “ We will spare you the rest. Miss Castleton,” he 
 said, his voice hoarse and unnatural. There is no 
 need to say more.^’ 
 
 You — you understand.^ You do believe me.^’’ 
 she cried. 
 
 He looked down at his wife’s bowed head, and re- 
 ceived no sign from her; then at the white, drawn 
 faces of his children. They met his gaze and he read 
 something in their eyes. 
 
 I — I think your story is so convincing that we — ■ 
 
408 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 we could not endure the shame of having it repeated 
 to the world.’’ 
 
 I — I cannot ask you to forgive me, sir. I only 
 ask you to believe me,” she murmured brokenly. “ I 
 — I am sorry it had to be. God is my witness that 
 there was no other way.” 
 
 Mr. Carroll came to his feet. There were tears in 
 his eyes. 
 
 think, Mr. Wrandall, you will now appreciate 
 my motives in — 
 
 Pardon me, Mr. Carroll, if I suggest that Miss 
 Castleton does not require any defence at present,” 
 said Mr. Wrandall stiffly. Your motives were doubt- 
 less good. Will you be so good as to conduct us to a 
 room where we may — may be alone for a short 
 while? ” 
 
 There was something tragic in the man’s face. His 
 son and daughter arose as if moved by an instinctive 
 realisation of a duty, and perhaps for the first time 
 in their lives were submissive to an influence they had 
 never quite recognised before: a father’s unalterable 
 right to command. For once in their lives they were 
 meek in his presence. They stepped to his side and 
 stood waiting, and neither of them spoke. 
 
 Mr. Wrandall laid his hand heavily on his wife’s 
 shoulder. She started, looked up rather vacantly, and 
 then arose without assistance. He did not make the 
 mistake of offering to assist her. He knew too well 
 that to question her strength now would be but to in- 
 vite weakness. She was strong. He knew her well. 
 
 She stood straight and firm for a few seconds, trans- 
 fixing Hetty with a look that seemed to bore into the 
 very soul of her, and then spoke. 
 
 You ask us to be your judges? ” 
 
Her audience of judges, with the exception of the elder 
 Mrs. Wrandall^ watched her as if fascinated 
 
THE JURY OF FOUR 
 
 409 
 
 ‘‘I ask you to judge not me alone but — your son 
 as well,” said Hetty, meeting her look steadily. You 
 cannot pronounce me innocent without pronouncing 
 him guilty. It will be hard.” 
 
 Sara raised her head from her arms. 
 
 You know the way into my sitting-room, Leslie,” 
 she said, with singular directness. Then she arose 
 and drew her figure to its full height. Please re- 
 member that it is I who am to be judged. Judge me 
 as I have judged you. I am not asking for mercy.” 
 
 Hetty impulsively threw her arms about the rigid 
 figure, and swept a pleading look from one to the 
 other of the four stony-faced Wrandalls. 
 
 They turned away without a word or a revealing 
 look, and slowly moved off in the direction of the 
 boudoir. They who remained behind stood still, mo- 
 tionless as statues. It was Vivian who opened the 
 library door. She closed it after the others had 
 passed through, and did not look behind. 
 
 Half an hour passed. Then the door was opened 
 and the tall old man advanced into the room. 
 
 We have found against my son. Miss Castleton,” 
 he said, his lips twitching. He is not here to speak 
 for himself, but he has already been judged. We, his 
 family, apologise to you for what you have suffered 
 from the conduct of one of us. Not one but all of us 
 believe the story you have told. It must never be re- 
 told. We ask this of all of you. It is not in our 
 hearts to thank Sara for shielding you, for her hand 
 is still raised against us. We are fair and just. If 
 you had come to ws on that wretched night and told 
 the story of my son’s infamy, we^ the Wrandalls, 
 would have stood between you and the law. The law 
 
410 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 could not hare touched you then; it shall not touch 
 you now*. Our verdict, if you choose to call it that, 
 is sealed. No man shall ever hear from the lips of a 
 Wrandall the smallest part of what has transpired 
 here to-night. Mr. Carroll, you were right. We 
 thank you for the counsel that led this unhappy girl 
 to place herself in our hands.” 
 
 “ Oh, God, I thank thee — I thank thee ! ” burst 
 from the lips of Sara Wrandall. She strained Hetty 
 to her breast. 
 
 It is not for us to judge you, Sara,” said Red- 
 mond Wrandall, speaking with difficulty. ^^You are 
 your own judge, and a harsh one you will find your- 
 self. As for ourselves, we can only look upon your 
 unspeakable design as the working of a temporarily 
 deranged mind. You could never have carried it out. 
 You are an honest woman. At the last you would 
 have revolted, even with victory assured. Perhaps 
 Leslie is the only one who has a real grievance against 
 you in this matter. I am convinced that he loved Miss 
 Castleton deeply. The worst hurt is his, and he has 
 been your most devoted advocate during all the years 
 of bitterness that has existed between you and us. 
 You thought to play him a foul trick. You could not 
 have carried it to the end. We leave you to pass judg- 
 ment on yourself.” 
 
 I have already done so, Mr. Wrandall,” said Sara. 
 “Have I not accused myself before you.? Have I not 
 confessed to the only crime that has been committed.? 
 I am not proud of myself, sir.” 
 
 “ You have hated us well.” 
 
 And you have hated me. The crime you hold me 
 guilty of was committed years ago. It was when I 
 robbed you of your son. To this day I am the leper 
 
THE JURY OF FOUR 
 
 411 
 
 in your path. I may be forgiven for all else, but not 
 for allowing Challis Wrandall to become the husband 
 of Sebastian Gooch’s daughter. That is the unpar- 
 donable sin.” 
 
 Mr. Wrandall was silent for a moment. 
 
 You still are Sebastian Gooch’s daughter,” he 
 said distinctly. You can never be anything else.’^ 
 
 She paled. This last transaction proves it, you 
 would say?” 
 
 This last transaction, yes.” 
 
 She looked about her with troubled, questioning eyes. 
 
 I — I wonder if that can be true,” she murmured, 
 rather piteously. ^^Am I so different from the rest 
 of you? Is the blood to blame? ” 
 
 ‘^Nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Carroll nervously. 
 
 Don’t be silly, Sara, my child. That is not what 
 Mr. Wrandall means.” 
 
 Wrandall turned his face away. 
 
 You loved as deeply as you hate, Sara,” he said, 
 with a curious twitching of his chin. My son was 
 your god. We are not insensible to that. Perhaps 
 we have never realised until now the depth and breadth 
 of your love for him. Love is a bitter judge of its 
 enemies. It knows no mercy, it knows no reason. 
 Hate may be conquered by love, but love cannot be 
 conquered by hate. You had reason to hate my son. 
 Instead you persisted in your love for him. We — we 
 owe you something for that, Sara. We owe you a 
 great deal more than I find myself able to express in 
 words.” 
 
 Leslie entered the room at this instant. He had 
 his overcoat on and carried his gloves and hat in his 
 hand. 
 
 We are ready, father,” he said thickly. 
 
412 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 After a moment’s hesitation, he crossed over to 
 Hetty, who stood beside Sara. 
 
 ‘‘I — I can now understand why you refused to 
 marry me. Miss Castleton,” he said, in a queer, jerky 
 manner. Won’t you let me say that I wish you all 
 the happiness still to be found in this rather uneven 
 world of ours ? ” 
 
 The crowning testimonial to an absolutely sincere 
 ego! 
 
CHAPTER XXY 
 
 RENUNCIATION 
 
 On the third day after the singular trial of Hetty 
 Castleton in Sara’s library, young Mrs. Wrandall’s 
 motor drew up in front of a lofty ofBce building in 
 lower Broadway; its owner stepped down from the 
 limousine and entered the building. A few moments 
 later she walked briskly into the splendid offices of 
 Wrandall & .Co., private bankers and steamship-own- 
 ers. The clerks in the outer offices stared for a mo- 
 ment in significant surprise, and then bowed respect- 
 fully to the beautiful silent partner in the great 
 concern. 
 
 It was the first time she had been seen in the offices 
 since the tragic event that had served to make her a 
 member of the firm. A boy at the information desk, 
 somewhat Impressed by her beauty and the trim ele- 
 gance of her long black broad-tail coat, to say nothing 
 of the dark eyes that shone through the narrow veil, 
 forgot the dignity of his office and went so far as to 
 politely ask her who she wanted to see and what 
 name, please.” 
 
 The senior clerk rushed forward and transfixed the 
 new boy with a glare. 
 
 A new boy, Mrs. Wrandall,” he made haste to ex- 
 plain. To the new boy’s surprise, the visitor was con- 
 ducted with much bowing and scraping into the private 
 offices, where no one ventured except by special edict 
 of the powers. 
 
 Who was it ? ” he asked, in some awe, of a veteran 
 stenographer who came up and sneered at him. 
 
 413 
 
4<U THE HOLLOW OP HER HAND 
 
 ^^Mrs. Challis Wrandall, you little simpleton,’’ said 
 she, and for once he failed to snap back. 
 
 It is of record that for nearly two whole days, he 
 was polite to every visitor who approached him and 
 was generally worth his salt. 
 
 Sara found herself in the close little room that once 
 had been her husband’s, but was now scrupulously held 
 in reserve for her own use. Rather a waste of space, 
 she felt as she looked about the office. The clerk 
 dusted an easy chair and threw open the long unused 
 desk near the window. 
 
 We are very glad to see you here, madam,” he 
 said. This room hasn’t been used much, as you may 
 observe. Is there anything I can do for you?” 
 
 She continued her critical survey of the room. 
 Nothing had been changed since the days when she 
 used to visit her husband here on occasions of rare 
 social importance: such as calling to take him out to 
 luncheon, or to see that he got safely home on rainy 
 afternoons. The big picture of a steamship still 
 hung on the wall across the room. Her own photo- 
 graph, in a silver frame, stood in one of the recesses 
 of the desk. She observed that there was a clean 
 white blotter there, too; but the ink wells appeared 
 to be empty, if she was to judge by the look of chagrin 
 on the clerk’s face as he inspected them. Photographs 
 of polo scenes in which Wrandall was a prominent fig- 
 ure, hung about the walls, with two or three pictures 
 of his favourite ponies, and one of a ragged gipsy 
 girl with wonderful eyes, carrying a monkey in a crude 
 wooden cage strapped to her back. On closer obser- 
 vation one would have recognised Sara’s peculiarly 
 gipsy-like features in the face of the girl, and then 
 one would have noticed the caption written in red ink 
 
RENUNCIATION 
 
 415 
 
 at the bottom of the photograph : TUe TrvmibelV s 
 Fcmcy Dress Bally J armary 10, ’07. Sara as Gipsy 
 Mabr 
 
 With a start, Sara came out of her painful reverie. 
 She passed her hand over her eyes, and seemed thereby 
 to put the polite senior clerk back into the picture once 
 more. 
 
 No, thank you. Is Mr. Redmond Wrandall down 
 this afternoon.^’’ 
 
 He came in not ten minutes ago. Mr. Leslie 
 Wrandall is also here. Shall I tell Mr. Wrandall 
 you wish to see him? ” 
 
 You may tell him that I am here, if you please,” 
 she said. 
 
 I am very sorry about the ink wells, madam,” 
 murmured the clerk. ^^We — we were not expect- 
 ing— ” 
 
 Pray don’t let it disturb you, Mr. Bancroft. I 
 shall not use them to-day.” 
 
 They will be properly filled by to-morrow.” 
 
 Thank you.” 
 
 He disappeared. She relaxed in the familiar, com- 
 fortable old leather-cushioned chair, and closed her 
 eyes. There was a sharp little line between them, but 
 it was hidden by the yeil. 
 
 The door opened slowly and Redmond Wrandall 
 came into the room. She arose at once. 
 
 This is — er — an unexpected pleasure, Sara,” he 
 said, perplexed and ill-at-ease. He stopped just in- 
 side the door he had been careful to close behind him, 
 and did not offer her his hand. 
 
 came down to attend to some business, Mr. 
 Wrandall,” she said. 
 
 Business ? ” he repeated, staring. 
 
416 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 She took note of the tired, haggard look in his eyes, 
 and the tightly compressed lips. 
 
 I intend to dispose of my entire interest in Wran- 
 dall & Co.,’’ she announced calmly. 
 
 He took a step forward, plainly startled by the 
 declaration. 
 
 ^‘What’s this.^^” he demanded sharply. 
 
 We may as well speak plainly, Mr. Wrandall,” she 
 said. You do not care to have me remain a member 
 of the firm, nor do I blame you for feeling as you do 
 about it. A year ago you ofi*ered to buy me out — ► 
 or off, as I took it to be at the time. I had reasons 
 then for not selling out to you. To-day I am ready 
 either to buy or to sell.” 
 
 You — you amaze me,” he exclaimed. 
 
 Does your offer of last December still stand.?^ ” 
 
 I — I think we would better have Leslie in, Sara. 
 This is most unexpected. I don’t quite feel up to — ” 
 Have Leslie in by all means,” she said, resuming 
 her seat. 
 
 He hesitated a moment, opened his lips as if to 
 speak, and then abruptly left the room. 
 
 Sara smiled. 
 
 Many minutes passed before the two Wrandalls put 
 in an appearance. She understood the delay. They 
 were telephoning to certain legal advisers. 
 
 ‘‘What’s this I hear, Sara?” demanded Leslie, ex- 
 tending his hand after a second’s hesitation. 
 
 She shook hands with him, not listlessly but with 
 the vigour born of nervousness. 
 
 “ I don’t know what you’ve heard,” she said point- 
 edly. 
 
 His slim fingers went searching for the end of his 
 moustache. 
 
RENUNCIATION 417 
 
 <^Why, — why, about selling out to us,” he stam- 
 mered. 
 
 I am willing to retire from the firm of Wrandall 
 '& Co.,” she said. 
 
 Father says the business is as good as it was a 
 year ago, but I don’t agree with him,” said the son, 
 trying to look lugubrious. 
 
 Then you don’t care to repeat your original prop- 
 osition ? ” 
 
 Well, the way business has been falling off — 
 
 ‘^Perhaps you would prefer to sell out to me,” she 
 remarked quietly. 
 
 ^^Not at all!” he said quickly, with a surprised 
 glance at his father. We couldn’t think of letting 
 the business pass out of the Wrandall name.” 
 
 ^^You forget that name is Wrandall,” she re- 
 joined. There would be no occasion to change the 
 firm’s name; merely its membership.” 
 
 Our original offer stands,” said the senior Wran- 
 dall stifiiy. We prefer to buy.” 
 
 And I to sell. Mr. Carroll will meet you to-mor- 
 row, gentlemen. He will represent me as usual. Our 
 business as well as social relations are about to end, I 
 suppose. My only regret is that I cannot further 
 accommodate you by changing my name. Still you 
 may live in hope that time may work even that won- 
 der for you.” 
 
 She arose. The two men regarded her in an ag- 
 grieved way for a moment. 
 
 ‘‘I have no real feeling of hostility toward you, 
 Sara,” said Leslie nervously, in spite of all that you 
 said the other night.” 
 
 I am afraid you don’t mean that, deep down in 
 your heart, Leslie,” she said, with a queer little smile. 
 
418 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 But I do/’ he protested. Hang* it all, we — we 
 live in a glass house ourselves, Sara. I dare say, in a 
 way, I was quite as unpleasant as the rest of the fam- 
 ily. You see, we just can’t help being snobs. It’s in 
 us, that’s all there is to it.” 
 
 Mr. Wrandall looked up from the floor, his gaze 
 having dropped at the first outburst from his son’s 
 lips. 
 
 — we prefer to be friendly, Sara, if you will 
 allow us — ” 
 
 She laughed and the old gentleman stopped in the 
 middle of his sentence. 
 
 We can’t be friends, Mr. Wrandall,” she said, sud- 
 denly serious. The pretence would be a mockery. 
 We are all better off if we allow our paths, our inter- 
 ests to diverge to-day.” 
 
 Perhaps you are right,” said he, compressing his 
 
 lips. 
 
 I believe that Vivian and I could — but no ! I 
 won’t go so far as to say that either. There is some- 
 thing genuine about her. Strange to say, I have 
 never disliked her.” 
 
 ^^If you had made the slightest effort to like us, no 
 doubt we could have — ” 
 
 My dear Mr. Wrandall,” she interrupted quickly, 
 
 I credit you with the desire to be fair and just to 
 me. You have tried to like me. You have even de- 
 ceived yourself at times. I — but why these gentle 
 recriminations? We merely prolong an unfortunate 
 contest between antagonistic natures, with no hope of 
 genuine peace being established. I do not regret that 
 I am your daughter-in-law, nor do I believe that you 
 would regret it if I had not been the daughter of Se- 
 bastian Gooch.” 
 
RENUNCIATION 
 
 419 
 
 ^^Your father was as little impressed with my son 
 as I was with his daughter,” said Redmond Wrandall 
 drily. I am forced to confess that he was the better 
 judge. We had the better of the bargain.” 
 
 I believe you mean it, Mr. Wrandall,” she said, 
 a note of gratitude in her voice. Good-bye. Mr. 
 Carroll will see you to-morrow.” She glanced quickly 
 about the room. I shall send for — for certain ar- 
 ticles that are no longer required in conducting the 
 business of Wrandall & Co.” 
 
 With a quaint little smile, she indicated the two pho- 
 tographs of herself. 
 
 By Jove, Sara,” burst out Leslie abruptly. 
 wish you’d let me have that Gipsy Mab picture. I’ve 
 always been dotty over it, don’t you know. Ripping 
 study.” 
 
 Her lip curled slightly. 
 
 As a matter of fact,” he explained conclusively, 
 
 Chal often said he’d leave it to me when he died. In 
 a joking way, of course, but I’m sure he meant it.” 
 
 ‘^You may have it, Leslie,” she said slowly. It is 
 doubtful if he correctly interpreted the movement of 
 her head as she uttered the words. 
 
 Thanks,” said he. I’ll hang it in my den, if 
 you don’t object.” 
 
 ^^We shall expect Mr. Carroll to-morrow, Sara,” 
 said his father, with an air of finality. Good-bye. 
 May I ask what plans you are making for the win- 
 ter.^ ” 
 
 They are very indefinite.” 
 
 say, Sara, why don’t you get married?” asked 
 Leslie, surveying the Gipsy Mab phot^raph with un- 
 disguised admiration as he held it at arm’s length. 
 
 Ripping ! ” This to the picture. 
 
420 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 She paused near the door to stare at him for a mo- 
 ment, unutterable scorn in her eyes. 
 
 Fve had a notion you were pretty keen about 
 Rrandy Booth,” he went on amiably. 
 
 She caught her breath. There was an instant’s 
 hesitation on her part before she replied. 
 
 You have never been very smart at making love 
 guesses, Leslie,” she said. It’s a trick you haven’t 
 acquired.” 
 
 He laughed uncomfortably. “ Neat stroke, that.” 
 
 Following her into the corridor outside the offices, 
 he pushed the elevator bell for her. 
 
 “ I meant what I said, Sara,” he remarked, some- 
 what doggedly. You ought to get married. Chal 
 didn’t leave much for you to cherish. There’s no rea- 
 son why you should go on like this, living alone and 
 all that sort of thing. You’re young and beautiful 
 and — ” 
 
 Oh, thank you, Leslie,” she cried out sharply. 
 
 ^^You see, it’s going to be this way: Hetty will 
 probably marry Booth. That’s on dit^ I take it. 
 You’re depending on her for companionship. Well, 
 she’ll quit you cold after she’s married. She will — ” 
 
 She interrupted him peremptorily. 
 
 If Challis did nothing else for me, Leslie, he at 
 least gave me you to cherish. Once more, good-bye.” 
 
 The elevator stopped for her. He strolled back to 
 his office with a puzzled frown on his face. She cer- 
 tainly was inexplicable ! 
 
 The angry red faded from her cheeks as she sped 
 homeward in the automobile. Her thoughts were no 
 longer of Leslie but of another. . . . She sighed 
 
 and closed her eyes, and her cheeks were pale. 
 
 Workmen from a picture dealer’s establishment were 
 
RENUNCIATION 
 
 421 
 
 engaged in hanging a full length portrait in the long 
 living-room of her apartment when she reached home. 
 She had sent to the country for Booth’s picture of 
 Hetty, and was having it hung in a conspicuous place. 
 For a long time she stood in the middle of the room, 
 studying the canvas. Hetty’s Irish blue eyes seemed 
 to return the scrutiny, a questioning look in their 
 painted depths. The warm, half smiling lips ap- 
 peared to be on the point of putting into words the 
 eager question that lay in her wondering eyes. 
 
 Passing the open library door, Sara paused for an 
 instant to peer within. Then she went on down the 
 hall to her own sitting-room. The canary was sing- 
 ing glibly in his cage by the window-side. 
 
 She threw aside her furs, and, without removing her 
 hat, passed into the bed-chamber at the left of the 
 cosy little boudoir. This was Hetty’s room. Her 
 own was directly opposite. On the girl’s dressing- 
 table, leaning against the broad, low mirror, stood 
 the unframed photograph of a man. With a furtive 
 glance over her shoulder, Sara crossed to the table 
 and took up the picture in her gloved hand. For a 
 long time she stood there gazing into the frank, good- 
 looking face of Brandon Booth. She breathed faster ; 
 her hand shook ; her eyes were strained as if by an in- 
 ward suggestion of pain. 
 
 She shook her head slowly, as if in final renuncia- 
 tion of a secret hope or the banishment of an unwel- 
 come desire, and resolutely replaced the photograph. 
 Her lips were almost white as she turned away and re- 
 entered the room beyond. 
 
 He belongs to her,” she said, unconsciously speak- 
 ing aloud ; and he is like all men. She must not be 
 unhappy.” 
 
422 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND 
 
 Presently she entered the library. She had ex- 
 changed her tailor-suit for a dainty house-gown. 
 Hetty was still seated in the big lounging chair, before 
 the snapping fire, apparently not having moved since 
 she looked in on passing a quarter of an hour before. 
 One of the girPs legs was curled up under her, the 
 other swung loose; an elbow rested on the arm of the 
 chair, and her cheek was in her hand. 
 
 Coming softly up from behind, Sara leaned over the 
 back of the chair and put her hands under her friend’s 
 chin, tenderly, lovingly. Hetty started and shivered. 
 
 Oh, Sara, how cold your hands are!” 
 
 She grasped them in her own and fondly stroked 
 them, as if to restore warmth to the long, slim fingers 
 which gave the lie to Mrs. Coburn’s declarations. 
 
 I’ve been thinking all morning of what you and 
 Brandon proposed to me last night, dear,” said Sara, 
 looking straight over the girl’s head, the dark, lan- 
 guorous, mysterious glow filling her eyes. It is 
 good of you both to want me, but — 
 
 Now don’t say ^ but,’ Sara,” cried Hetty. We 
 mean it, and you must let us have our way.” 
 
 It would be splendid to be near you all the time, 
 dear ; it would be wonderful to live with you as you so 
 generously propose, but I cannot do it. I must de- 
 cline.” 
 
 And may I ask why you decline to live with me? ” 
 demanded Hetty resentfully. 
 
 Because I love you so dearly,” said Sara. 
 
 THE END 
 
t iiWMWWT i M aBWMBW^CT WBWffai^^ umiw ii i wmn— i wwi m 1 1 iiii i l aiMai ' Mniw i wwwKwm i' . 
 
 THE NOVELS OF 
 
 GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON 
 
 SRAUSTARK. 
 
 A story of love behind a throne, telling how young 
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 BEVERLY OF GRAUSTARK. 
 
 Beverly is a bewitching American girl who has gone to 
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 A young man is required to spend one million dollars in 
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 CASTLE CRANEYCROW. 
 
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 COWARDICE COURT. 
 
 An amusing social feud in the Adirondack® in which ars 
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 THE DAUGHTER OF ANDERSON CROW. 
 
 The story centers about the adopted daughter of the towr, 
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 NEDRA. 
 
 A young couple elope from Chicago to go to London 
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 THE SHERRODS. 
 
 The scene is the Middle West and centers around a maffi 
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 A handsome good natured young fellow ranges on thf 
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 Grosset & DunlaPj 526 West 26th St., New Yor^ 
 
GROSSET & DUNLAP’S 
 
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 be had whsreirer boaks ara sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list 
 
 WITHIN THE LAW. By Bayard Veiller & Marvin Dana. 
 Illustrated by Wm. Charles Cooke. 
 
 This is a novelization of the immensely successful play which ran 
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 WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY . By Robert Carlton Brown. 
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 BOUGHT AND PAID FOR. By George Broadhurst and Arthia 
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 A stupendous arraignment of modern marriage which has creat^ 
 an interest on the stage that is almost unparalleled. The scenes are laid 
 in New York, and deal with conditions among both the rich and poor. 
 
 The interest of the story turns on the day-by day developments 
 whicl^shov/ the young wife the price she has paid. 
 
 Ash for comfhte free list of G. ^ D. Popular Co^ynghed Fiction 
 
 Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York 
 
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