The Double Barrelled Detective Story | Page 6

life took on a new complexion for her. She said,
"The future is secure--I can wait, and enjoy the waiting." The most of
her lost interests revived. She took up music again, and languages,
drawing, painting, and the other long-discarded delights of her

maidenhood. She was happy once more, and felt again the zest of life.
As the years drifted by she watched the development of her boy, and
was contented with it. Not altogether, but nearly that. The soft side of
his heart was larger than the other side of it. It was his only defect, in
her eyes. But she considered that his love for her and worship of her
made up for it. He was a good hater--that was well; but it was a
question if the materials of his hatreds were of as tough and enduring a
quality as those of his friendships--and that was not so well.
The years drifted on. Archy was become a handsome, shapely, athletic
youth, courteous, dignified, companionable, pleasant in his ways, and
looking perhaps a trifle older than he was, which was sixteen. One
evening his mother said she had something of grave importance to say
to him, adding that he was old enough to hear it now, and old enough
and possessed of character enough and stability enough to carry out a
stern plan which she had been for years contriving and maturing. Then
she told him her bitter story, in all its naked atrociousness. For a while
the boy was paralyzed; then he said:
"I understand. We are Southerners; and by our custom and nature there
is but one atonement. I will search him out and kill him."
"Kill him? No! Death is release, emancipation; death is a favor. Do I
owe him favors? You must not hurt a hair of his head."
The boy was lost in thought awhile; then he said:
"You are all the world to me, and your desire is my law and my
pleasure. Tell me what to do and I will do it."
The mother's eyes beamed with satisfaction, and she said:
"You will go and find him. I have known his hiding-place for eleven
years; it cost me five years and more of inquiry, and much money, to
locate it. He is a quartz-miner in Colorado, and well-to-do. He lives in
Denver. His name is Jacob Fuller. There--it is the first time I have
spoken it since that unforgettable night. Think! That name could have
been yours if I had not saved you that shame and furnished you a

cleaner one. You will drive him from that place; you will hunt him
down and drive him again; and yet again, and again, and again,
persistently, relentlessly, poisoning his life, filling it with mysterious
terrors, loading it with weariness and misery, making him wish for
death, and that he had a suicide's courage; you will make of him
another Wandering Jew; he shall know no rest any more, no peace of
mind, no placid sleep; you shall shadow him, cling to him, persecute
him, till you break his heart, as he broke my father's and mine."
"I will obey, mother."
"I believe it, my child. The preparations are all made; everything is
ready. Here is a letter of credit; spend freely, there is no lack of money.
At times you may need disguises. I have provided them; also some
other conveniences." She took from the drawer of the typewriter-table
several squares of paper. They all bore these typewritten words:
$10,000 REWARD
It is believed that a certain man who is wanted in an Eastern state is
sojourning here. In 1880, in the night, he tied his young wife to a tree
by the public road, cut her across the face with a cowhide, and made his
dogs tear her clothes from her, leaving her naked. He left her there, and
fled the country. A blood-relative of hers has searched for him for
seventeen years. Address . . . . . . . . . , . . . . . . . . . . , Post-office. The
above reward will be paid in cash to the person who will furnish the
seeker, in a personal interview, the criminal's address.
"When you have found him and acquainted yourself with his scent, you
will go in the night and placard one of these upon the building he
occupies, and another one upon the post-office or in some other
prominent place. It will be the talk of the region. At first you must give
him several days in which to force a sale of his belongings at
something approaching their value. We will ruin him by and by, but
gradually; we must not impoverish him at once, for that could bring
him to despair and injure