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About Omaha daily bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 187?-1922 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 10, 1913)
semi-monthly magazine 9 4- C then enter my cabin to shoot him self?" "I do not know, sir." Captain Hayward stooped down and opened the dead man's shirt, exposing a small blue hole In the breast. "Shot through the left lung," he said as he stood up; "and the bullet may have grazed the heart. There are no powder marks. Ho was shot from a distance. You tell a somewhat fishy ynrn, Mr. John Wilson. You'll have to tell It In court." "Do I look nnd act like one who had Just shot down a fellow man, Cap tain?" I asked, warmly. "What yarn can von tell In court. Who, after all, really took my pistol, and whero were you when It shot him?" "In my berth, d n you, and the shot woke me up. D' you mean to ac cuse me?" "I have the samo right to accuse you as you have to accuse me. If you were asleep how could you tell which cabin he was In?" He glared at me, but I returned his glare and added: "Why not consult your daughter, Captain? She must have heard the shot?" He stiffened as though struck a blow. Ills chin dropped and the glare left Ills eyes as they opened wider. The glare must have left mine, too, for I smiled. "GPme that gun first," ho said, with a choke in his voice. "I don't want you to pot me, too." "I '11 empty It first," I answered; "I don't want you to pot me," suiting the action to the word and ejecting the cartridges upon the table. I was vaguely hoping to find the whole ten. But, no, there were only nine. "This gun killed him, Captain," I said, quietly handing It over. "I ad mit that much." TIE stupidly pocketed the pistol, en tered the after cabin, and called, audibly: "Florence, Florence, are you awake?" Then, In a moment, his voice came in a roar: "Great God, what devil's business Is this?" And now his face, ghastly gray in the lamplight, appeared at the swing ing door. "Steward," ho called. "Come In here and lend a hand. My girl Is dead, too." The stewnrd made a detour to avoid the body and followed him, while I stood over It and waited, mystified, wondering, trying to understand. I had heard but one shot. Soon the Captain appeared, calmer now, but with a set face. "Mr. Wilson," he said,, sternly, "the steward says she is only In a deep faint, and he Is trying to bring her to. Meanwhile, will you go into your room, quietly, and stay there while the carpenter puts -a lock on your door or shall I call all bunds and put you in Irons?" "I '11 submit without force, Captain Hayward," I replied. "But what's the need of It. I 'm harmless now, and as anxious to solve this mystery as you are." "It's already solved Just as I said. He was a good friend of my girl and must have seen you from the main deck, sneaking out of your room and heading aft. He followed you to protect my girl, and you shot him. The shot scared her into a faint, for she is full dressed and must have been awake." Disdaining to ask that he wait for her testimony, I merely said: "Very well, sir. Have it your own way." And went to my room, where I lay In my berth smoking, while the carpen ter fitted a lock to the door. When I was properly locked In I heard the sound of the body being dragged out, and an occasional order from the Cap tain, who had taken the deck. I was not alarmed at my situation; but sleep was Impossible, and I smoked and pondered over the prob lem, a few factors of which could not be eliminated. That Taynter should take my pistol while I slept and re turn to the deck to deliberate, was feasible. That a girl should be awake and dressed at three In the morning might well accord with an Intended elopement on shore. Hut at sea? No. It Indicated an exactly opposite state of mind, thoroughly In keeping with her laughter of the evening before. And why had not my mental alarm clock aroimed me at four bells In stead of waiting until six? I mused on these things until about daylight, then fell into a doze from which I was awakened by the open ing of my door. Captain Hayward stood looking nt me, with the key In his hand. "Turn to," ho said, gruffly. Then, tossing the key Into my berth, he added: "My girl wants to see you In the after cabin. Get through with It, quick. It 's your watch on deck." I rolled out and reached for a hair brush. "Don't primp," ho growled. "She looks tougher than you." LIE departed, and, first rubbing the Asleep from my eyes and smoothing my tousled hair, I passed through tho forward cabin, wondering what had happened and why this unpleasant, flirtatious, and mischicf-muklng girl wanted to see me. After a prelimi nary knock I pushed through tho swinging door and looked at her standing near tho chronometer but did not immediately know her. I only recognized her dress, which was wrinkled and soiled from the sea-dust of the floor. Her, brown hair a wealth of It was free from pins and combs, hnnglng loose, one-half down her back, the other flung over her right shoulder. Her face wns tho face of an old woman, white, drawn and twitching: her lower Hp drooped and quivered, while In her wide-open, staring, brown eyes was a look which, as a boy, I had once seen In the eyes of a captured and frightened wood pigeon. "Your father said that you wished to see me," I ventured, nfter a mo ment of mutual scrutiny. "Yes," she answered, in a voice not her own not the soft, mimical volco that had sung Taynter on to his fate. There was n raspy, unnatural sound to it that seemed hardly human. "Yes," she repeated, and tottered, rather than walked, toward me. "I I Oh, John, they ahall not they shall not they must not hang you. Tho speech had begun with a gasp, risen to a shriek, and sunk to a moan; then she threw her arms around my neck and clung to me. Does a man know that ho loves a woman? Not always only when his sleeping consciousness is awakened. Does ho know that ho dislikes her? As certainly not. For such secondary emotions as jealousy, pique and ap prehension arise equally from lovo and hate, and often domlnato the primal emotion. No sooner had that limp, clinglrg form touched mo than I had my arms around the girl taut and stiff and tenso as two hand' spikes while unknown assailing pulses surged through me, and I planted kiss after kiss upon the white and wasted face. "Oh," sho articulated, in a volco that held neither gasp nor shriek, but rather the note of a preacher speaking over tho dead, "you did did care for me, John Just a little. And you '11 bo sorry when I 'm gone?" "Gono where?" I demanded, still holding her tightly. "To the gallows or tho chair. John, dear, do they hang women In California, or do they do they " "Electrocute?" I Interrupted. "Neither, In that state. Hut what aro you talking about?" 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