He has taken money. From Harry's mother--for
Desire. And this began within a month of our marriage. It shames me
so that I cannot live. Yet I must live. I can't leave the child. But
I can stop this hateful traffic in a dead man's honor. I will write
myself to England."
This was the last fragment. Spence looked again at the almost erased
date--January 13th. He felt the sweat on his forehead for, beside
that date, the unexplained postscript of Li Ho's letter took on a
ghastly significance.
"Respected lady depart life on January 14th."
She had not lived to write to England!
CHAPTER XXXVII
It seemed to Benis Spence afterward that during that last day, while
the train plunged steadily down to sea level, he passed every
boundary ever set for the patience of man. It was a lovely,
sparkling day. The rivers leaped and danced in sunshine. Long
shadows swept like beating wings along the mountain sides. The air
blew cool and sweet upon his lips. But for once he was deaf and
blind and heedless of it all. He thought only of the night--of the
night and the moon.
It came at last--a night as lovely as the day. Benis sat with his
hand upon his watch. They were running sharp on time. There could be
nothing to delay them now--barring an accident. Instantly his mind
created an accident, providing all the ghastly details. He saw him-
self helpless, pinned down, while the full moon climbed and sailed
across the skies. .
Pages:
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318