Initials Only | Page 5

opened, and
George came in. There was news in his face as I rushed to meet him.
"Tell me--tell," I begged.
He tried to smile at my eagerness, but the attempt was ghastly.
"I've been listening and looking," said he, "and this is all I have learned.
Miss Challoner died, not from a stroke or from disease of any kind, but
from a wound reaching the heart. No one saw the attack, or even the
approach or departure of the person inflicting this wound. If she was
killed by a pistol-shot, it was at a distance, and almost over the heads of
the persons sitting at the table we saw there. But the doctors shake their
heads at the word pistol-shot, though they refuse to explain themselves
or to express any opinion till the wound has been probed. This they are
going to do at once, and when that question is decided, I may feel it my
duty to speak and may ask you to support my story."
"I will tell what I saw," said I.
"Very good. That is all that will be required. We are strangers to the
parties concerned, and only speak from a sense of justice. It may be that
our story will make no impression, and that we shall be dismissed with
but few thanks. But that is nothing to us. If the woman has been
murdered, he is the murderer. With such a conviction in my mind, there
can be no doubt as to my duty."
"We can never make them understand how he looked."
"No. I don't expect to."

"Or his manner as he fled."
"Nor that either."
"We can only describe what we saw him do."
That's all."
"Oh, what an adventure for quiet people like us! George, I don't believe
he shot her."
"He must have."
"But they would have seen--have heard--the people around, I mean."
"So they say; but I have a theory--but no matter about that now. I'm
going down again to see how things have progressed. I'll be back for
you later. Only be ready."
Be ready! I almost laughed,--a hysterical laugh, of course, when I
recalled the injunction. Be ready! This lonely sitting by myself, with
nothing to do but think was a fine preparation for a sudden appearance
before those men--some of them police-officers, no doubt.
But that's enough about myself; I'm not the heroine of this story. In a
half hour or an hour--I never knew which--George reappeared only to
tell me that no conclusions had as yet been reached; an element of great
mystery involved the whole affair, and the most astute detectives on the
force had been sent for. Her father, who had been her constant
companion all winter, had not the least suggestion to offer in way of its
solution. So far as he knew--and he believed himself to have been in
perfect accord with his daughter --she had injured no one. She had just
lived the even, happy and useful life of a young woman of means, who
sees duties beyond those of her own household and immediate
surroundings. If, in the fulfillment of those duties, she had encountered
any obstacle to content, he did not know it; nor could he mention a
friend of hers --he would even say lovers, since that was what he
meant--who to his knowledge could be accused of harbouring any such

passion of revenge as was manifested in this secret and diabolical
attack. They were all gentlemen and respected her as heartily as they
appeared to admire her. To no living being, man or woman, could he
point as possessing any motive for such a deed. She had been the
victim of some mistake, his lovely and ever kindly disposed daughter,
and while the loss was irreparable he would never make it unendurable
by thinking otherwise.
Such was the father's way of looking at the matter, and I own that it
made our duty a trifle hard. But George's mind, when once made up,
was persistent to the point of obstinacy, and while he was yet talking he
led me out of the room and down the hall to the elevator.
"Mr. Slater knows we have something to say, and will manage the
interview before us in the very best manner," he confided to me now
with an encouraging air. "We are to go to the blue reception room on
the parlour floor."
I nodded, and nothing more was said till we entered the place
mentioned. Here we came upon several gentlemen, standing about, of a
more or less professional appearance. This was not very agreeable to
one of my retiring disposition, but a look from George brought back
my courage, and I found myself waiting rather anxiously for the
questions I expected to hear put.
Mr.