The Substitute Prisoner | Page 7

do you think of that?" Collins asked, turning toward his brother-in-law. "My wife loves another man. And he's urging her to wreck her home!"
Ward's eyes alternated between his sister and her husband.
"Of course, she's not going to do it," he said as if expressing an inevitable conclusion.
"I'm going to leave here this very day," she declared firmly.
"And plunge into the scandal of a divorce proceeding?" Her brother bestowed a reproachful glance upon her. "Grace, you know how I feel toward your husband. Long ago I urged you to divorce him, but you refused. Now you must consider me. Think of the notoriety! My approaching marriage must not be overcast by the awful scandal that will follow your trip to Reno. Were we less prominent socially, it might be different. But the newspapers will be full of it. No, Grace, don't do anything hasty--not just now."
"You counsel me to continue living with him?" she inquired.
"I simply ask you to continue as you're doing."
She bent forward in her chair, her face set in an expression of unalterable determination.
"I love Herbert," she declared calmly, unmindful of the amazement which her avowal produced. "I have loved him a long while," she continued undismayed. "I crave him--I loathe the man to whom I am wedded."
"I sympathize with you," the brother hastened to assure her, "and, were it not for my marriage, I should urge you to leave him at once. He's a cad--"
"I'm not the sort of cad that permits another man to destroy his home," blurted Collins.
The others ignored his interruption.
"Lester," said the wife, "I shall leave this house to-day. Regardless of your marriage, I shall apply for a divorce and marry Herbert Whitmore."
The strained silence which followed was broken by Collins. He arose and walked to the door.
"You'll never marry Whitmore," he said. "There is a higher law that protects the home."
"Why--what do you mean?" the wife inquired in a tone of alarm. Something in her husband's face, something she had never seen there before, frightened her.
"I'm going to kill Whitmore," he said, leaving the room.
CHAPTER III
A premeditated killing wherein the murderer makes no provision to protect himself from the sure consequences of his act, requires a certain amount of perverted courage. Neither Mrs. Collins nor her brother credited Collins with the possession of even this low courage--at least not in sufficient degree to induce him to relinquish the comforts of freedom for the inconveniences of a prison. So they offered no objection to his departure, permitting him to leave without a word, as though they were entirely unconcerned in what he did.
Knowing Collins intimately as they did, it was impossible to take his assumption of the r?le of an outraged husband seriously. They saw, only too clearly, the ridiculous figure he made in the false light with which he had invested himself. But when he was gone, with his threat still echoing through their brains, they began to doubt their first impression of his cowardice.
"That's a fine mess you've made of it," said Ward, who had grown palpably uneasy.
"I made the mess when I married him," replied the sister. "I shall now proceed to disentangle myself from it. Until I start for Reno I shall live at your house."
"You don't think, really, that he would shoot?" The brother's face expressed incredulity, mixed with worry.
Her forehead contracted in thought.
"As he is now, I feel certain he would not dare. But should he start drinking--"
Ward was on his feet, his pale face grown paler.
"That's just it!" he exclaimed. "We must forestall him."
The same thought had flashed through her brain and she was already on the way to the telephone. She called up Whitmore's house and asked for the merchant.
"He didn't come home last night," the butler informed her.
Although burning with anxiety she made no further inquiries of the servant. Instead, she rang up Whitmore's office.
"No ma'am, he hasn't been here this morning," the office boy said.
"Then give me Mr. Beard, his secretary."
"He hasn't been here, either."
She hung up the receiver and turned a bewildered countenance to her brother.
"There is something singular about Herbert's absence from home and his failure to appear at the office," she said. "I don't know why I should think so--but I do."
"It's impossible for your husband to have reached the city," Ward answered reassuringly. "He won't get there for twenty-five minutes and the chances are he'll stop in various saloons before he tries to find Whitmore. I'll have my car here in ten minutes and we'll proceed at once to Whitmore's office and wait for him. Now hurry and get dressed."
Ward paced the drawing-room while waiting for his sister to finish her toilet. He had telephoned for his automobile and heard the car draw up at the gate. In the presence of Mrs. Collins and her husband, Ward had maintained