Dark Hollow

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Dark Hollow

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Title: Dark Hollow
Author: Anna Katherine Green

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DARK HOLLOW
By ANNA KATHARINE GREEN
Author of "The House of the Whispering Pines," "Initials Only," "That
Affair Next Door," Etc.

With Four Illustrations By THOMAS FOGARTY

BOOK I
THE WOMAN IN PURPLE
I
WHERE IS BELA?
A high and narrow gate of carefully joined boards, standing ajar in a

fence of the same construction! What is there in this to rouse a whole
neighbourhood and collect before it a group of eager, anxious,
hesitating people?
I will tell you.
This fence is no ordinary fence, and this gate no ordinary gate; nor is
the fact of the latter standing a trifle open, one to be lightly regarded or
taken an inconsiderate advantage of. For this is Judge Ostrander's place,
and any one who knows Shelby or the gossip of its suburbs, knows that
this house of his has not opened its doors to any outsider, man or
woman, for over a dozen years; nor have his gates--in saying which, I
include the great one in front--been seen in all that time to gape at any
one's instance or to stand unclosed to public intrusion, no, not for a
moment. The seclusion sought was absolute. The men and women who
passed and repassed this corner many times a day were as ignorant as
the townspeople in general of what lay behind the grey, monotonous
exterior of the weather-beaten boards they so frequently brushed
against. The house was there, of course,--they all knew the house, or
did once--but there were rumours (no one ever knew how they
originated) of another fence, a second barrier, standing a few feet inside
the first and similar to it in all respects, even to the gates which
corresponded exactly with these outer and visible ones and probably
were just as fully provided with bolts and bars.
To be sure, these were reports rather than acknowledged facts, but the
possibility of their truth roused endless wonder and gave to the
eccentricities of this well-known man a mysterious significance which
lost little or nothing in the slow passage of years.
And now! in the freshness of this summer morning, without warning or
any seeming reason for the change, the strict habit of years has been
broken into and this gate of gates is not only standing unlocked before
their eyes, but a woman--a stranger to the town as her very act
shows--has been seen to enter there!--to enter, but not come out; which
means that she must still be inside, and possibly in the very presence of
the judge.

Where is Bela? Why does he allow his errands--But it was Bela, or so
they have been told, who left this gate ajar ... he, the awe and terror of
the town, the enormous, redoubtable, close-mouthed negro, trusted as
man is seldom trusted, and faithful to his trust, yes, up to this very hour,
as all must acknowledge, in spite of every temptation (and they had
been many and alluring) to disclose the secret of this home of which he
was not the least interesting factor. What has made him thus suddenly
careless, he who has never been careless before? Money? A bribe from
the woman who had entered there?
Impossible to believe, his virtue has always been so impeccable, his
devotion to his strange and dominating master so sturdy and so
seemingly unaffected by time and chance!
Yet,