Isabel Ostrander

“ The Norman Storm whom he had known had vanished; indeed, had never existed. In his stead this dissembling creature with a murderer’s black heart had walked among men, free until this hour!
Trembling, George laid the sticks one by one across the couch and examined them. No mid-iron could have struck that blow; it would have crashed through the temple and left a frightful, gaping, ragged wound. It must have been something round and smooth, not unlike the brass knob on the fender, since the doctor and coroner had both been easily deceived. Not the putter nor the brassie nor the cleek,—the driver! ”

“ Surely no suspicion could attach to him for that! It was public property, the path was free to all and there would be nothing strange about a midnight stroll after the terrific heat of the day should anyone chance to cross his path.
Could he do it? Could he bring himself to walk slowly, steadily up that incline, to pass without faltering that place against the wall where Horton’s body had crumpled; to go on without a backward glance into the shadows that would lurk behind? Surely no other man in the world would dare such a supreme test of his fortitude, his strength! ”

“ With the waning afternoon the sky had become overcast, and twilight brought a gentle summer rain through which Storm plodded doggedly. Food was distasteful, the thought of a restaurant was abhorrent to him in his morose mood, and yet he shrank from hours of solitude in his apartment. He was afraid of himself, afraid to think, and he longed desperately for the companionship of a fellow being; not George nor anyone connected with his life of the past ten years, but someone unconcerned in his affairs, someone with whom he could talk and forget. ”

“ Potter’s quarters in town would at least bear no reminders to mock and accuse him at every turn, and drag his treacherous thoughts back to a past which must be buried. He would be free, too, from Brewster and Millard and the rest of them; but on the other hand George would be constantly thrusting his society upon him.
Undecided, he wandered out to the veranda, but the vines which Leila had tended peered at him over the rail and whispered together; in the library her books, her desk, the foolish, impractical reading lamp she had bought for him all mutely recalled her vanished presence. ”

“ Shuddering with horror at the vision, Storm climbed into the first open taxi that he saw and giving his Riverside Drive address, sank back against the cushions with closed eyes. He felt that never in his life had he so wanted human companionship, not even on that night when he had encountered Jack Horton in the rain; yet he dared not summon anyone. George would drop his affairs with Abbott and come, of course, but George was the last person in the world whom he would want near if he were not to be in full possession of his faculties. There was no one he could trust; he stood alone! ”

“ Here was where they had walked when Horton boasted so about his girl! What a complacent, self-satisfied creature he had been! Common, too; how a few years of roughing it brought out the bourgeois streak in a man! Everything about him had grated, repelled; his swagger, his laugh, the animal-like gusto with which he ate and drank and smoked. What a boor!
Yonder was the street lamp and here the place where Storm himself had halted ostensibly to light a cigarette, but in reality to wait until the approaching figure of the policeman should have advanced into the surrounding shadows. ”

“ George closed the notebook and put it back slowly into his pocket. Tall, thin, smooth-shaven, in mourning, with the inevitable cigarette! It was Storm to the life! His heart, all the accumulating affection of years cried out against the justice of that verdict. A tall, thin man dressed in dark clothes; were there not thousands in the city? But that methodical, inexorable brain of George’s had gone back swiftly to the night after that on which the murder must have taken place, when he and Storm had motored out in Abbott’s car up the road for dinner. ”

“ What did it matter that a clod like Horton had dropped out of existence? Yet somehow Storm could not quite dispel the memory of that shrunken, inert figure slumped helplessly against the wall; he could not quite close his ears to that good-natured voice prattling of the trust reposed in him, of the love of the girl who was “aces high”.
Bah! Was he getting squeamish now? One could only rise on the shoulders of another, and it had been the way of the world through countless ages that the strong, the ruthless, the resourceful should triumph! ”

“ Storm would certainly have been mad to commit a crime; but Storm was certainly not mad! He was nervous and worn out and grief-stricken, but he was unquestionably sane. By what ruse could he have gotten Horton’s pistol from him? How separated him from the bag in his charge and how and why become possessed of his hat?
These were but trivial details and immaterial to the mass of circumstantial evidence, George realized, and his heart sank once more. Storm could easily have persuaded Horton to leave the bag and pistol there in his own rooms while they went for a short midnight stroll. ”

“ Surely that mere impulse would not have been strong enough to force him to murder! What had he to get away from? Only grief-stricken memories of his dead wife; and other men lived down such sorrow. Grief alone could not drive a man from his assured place in the world to become a wanderer in strange lands, a self-exiled pariah! Nothing but the consciousness of guilt could do that, and the fear of retributive justice; but Storm had been guiltless of anything then. George could well imagine his desire to flee the country after Horton was found with his head crushed in—
So, too, had Leila died! ”

“ At Headquarters, while Millard searched for the official who was to be their guide, Storm gazed reflectively at the ornate brass plate let into the wall on which were inscribed the names of the former Chiefs and Commissioners. Each had held his own pet theories of the detection of crime, each had had his widely published successes, his obscure failures, and each of them in turn had passed on and out of the office. He could have faced them all just as he was about to face their successor, and he could have beaten them at their own game! ”

“ Could it be that Horton was a fugitive from justice? Storm smiled at the thought. Why, he himself, if the world only knew——!
But Horton’s ebullient spirits bubbled over when they emerged on the street level, and a hasty glance about assured him that no other pedestrians were near.
“Lord, but it’s good to be in New York again, Norman!” he exclaimed. “The old burg is the greatest little spot on God’s green earth, let me tell you! The sight and sound and smell of it get into a fellow’s blood. Talk about the East a-calling! It’s deaf and dumb compared to the urge of little old Manhattan!” ”

“ Storm had had rather the better of the argument, as usual, for the other’s slower mind was not sufficiently agile to grasp his brilliant but shallow points and turn them against him, and he started homeward in high good humor. How peaceful and still everything lay under the pale shimmering haze of moonlight! Leila would be fast asleep by now. What a child she was at heart, in spite of her twenty-eight years! How she had hesitated, even over that little white lie that she had been to Ferndale Inn with Julie Brewster, and how stupid he had been to force it by questioning her before George! ”

“ In health and strength, with the guard of reticence about him, he could walk among men, but at the first weakening, the first inkling of the truth all mankind would be upon him like a pack of wolves, tearing him down!
As the taxi turned into the Drive at length a breath of cooler air blew up from the river, and when they reached the door of his apartment house Storm felt more at ease, although his head still throbbed and a weight seemed dragging at his limbs. ”

“ Sometimes when I can’t sleep I walk along this path for hours, watching the lights and the river; there is a bigness and impersonality about it that is restful.” Storm spoke truly, but back of his mind was the shuddering consciousness that never again would he find peace and tranquility in this nocturnal haunt. After tonight the shadows would be peopled with ghosts, the dark river would run red and the frowning cliffs on the farther bank would echo with the doings of this hour.——What matter? He would be far away with the means to live his own life and not a trace left behind him! ”

“ There could be no other construction than the obvious one! He recalled her cool, unruffled assurance at the breakfast table, her charming air of solicitude at his own haggard appearance, and his blood boiled with rage. Did she think to deceive him, to keep him indefinitely in the state of fatuous complacency in which he had pitied other husbands? Was he to be spoken of, for instance, as George Holworthy had spoken of Dick Brewster the night before?
With the thought Storm glanced about him at his neighbors in the club car. If what he suspected were true, did any of them know already? ”

“ After the first shock of horror and remorse had passed together with the fear of detection, a sense of triumph began to dominate him, a sort of pride in himself and his achievement. He had hoodwinked them all! He, who had fancied himself a weakling merely because luck had been against him in the past, had proved his strength, his invincibility now. Old George, sitting there so placidly, blinking at him with those good-natured, near-sighted eyes of his: how little he suspected, how little he could ever suspect of the truth! ”

“ The Alsace! For a moment Storm stood as though petrified; then, turning, he dashed hatless from the apartment and out into the street. The newsboy raced toward him and he tore a paper from the grasp of the foremost, thrust some silver into his hand and made for the apartment once more. He dared not halt beneath a street lamp to read the staring headlines; he must be secure from observation behind closed doors when he learned the truth. ”

“ Not a soul in sight, not a sound save the rustle of the wind in the trees across the drive!
Storm caught up the tray from the table and gripping it firmly flung its contents far outward with all his strength lest any of the cigar stumps fall upon the sidewalk or in the gutter directly before him. On the instant the wind rose in a sweeping gust, and it seemed to him that he could see the gray handful spread out in a haze and swirl away into the void of night. ”

“ Storm thumped his pillow viciously. Dogs had been kicked from the path before and would be again! There, within reach of his hand behind the panel lay the price of all that he asked of the future! A little more of George Holworthy’s puttering solicitude, of Nicholas Langhorne’s sleek patronage and domineering authority, a week or two still perhaps of the mask of mourning, the treadmill of the office, the dodging of hypocritical, unctuous sympathy over Leila’s loss; and then freedom! Freedom at last and the wide world in which to forget it all! ”

“ Leila turned upon the hearth rug and faced him, her head proudly erect to meet the menace in his eyes. “You were eavesdropping, spying upon me in your insane, unfounded jealousy and suspicion! Why did you not follow me as well? Then you would have learned the truth for yourself!”
“It was not necessary. It was sheer accident that I came upon you at the telephone, but I did not have to dog your footsteps to learn the truth. My judgment was better than yours; I knew that you would walk into the first trap I set for you, that you would give yourself into my hands. And you have!” ”

“ But Barker was on hand promptly with the smart little car which consumed such an incredible amount of gasolene, and the air of the soft spring twilight was infinitely grateful after the smoke and stuffiness of the train. As they drove swiftly past the rolling lawns of one spacious landscape garden after another, each burgeoning with its colorful promise of the blossoming year, his taut nerves relaxed, and he settled back in contented ease. What if he had been unlucky in past speculations, if old Foulkes did consider him an unstable weakling? Leila believed in him, and she was his, all his! ”

“ The minister went on to the end, and then the voices of a hidden choir chanted softly: “Lord, thou hast been our refuge: from one generation to another . . . .”
In the front pew Norman Storm rested his sleek head upon his black-gloved hand, and George Holworthy beside him cleared his throat huskily. In the moment of stillness which followed the Psalm, a woman’s sob rose from somewhere back in the church, the sound jangling in Storm’s ears like a touch upon naked nerves. ”

“ Every minute that he lingered there increased his danger, and yet he felt a loathsome repugnance at the thought of touching Horton again.
Nerving himself desperately he slipped his arms beneath the body and gave a convulsive heave. It jerked, swayed suddenly but slumped back again, and Storm’s breath came in a sobbing gasp. God, how heavy it was! Could he ever get it up to the top of the wall? ”

“ The casual, unpremeditated cases are the ones which give us the most trouble because as a rule they leave fewer clues. The man who plans a crime most carefully is bound to over-reach himself in some particular, but the one who picks up a weapon lying innocently or accidentally to his hand, strikes with it and lays it down again, is the man who gives us the longest run.”
Storm could feel the blood ebbing from his face. Could this genial, smiling person be reading his mind, probing to the depths of the secret he guarded; or was he merely voicing his own favorite theory? ”

“ To his apprehensive imagination their manner held a deeper significance than that of mere masculine inability to voice their sympathy, and with gnawing persistency the menacing possibilities rankled in his brain.
At the office, after the formal condolences of his associates, Storm slipped mechanically into the old, well-ordered routine; but here, too, he fancied that he was being eyed askance. He could at least avoid running the gauntlet of his clubs for a time without occasioning remark, but the thought of Greenlea itself and all that it held for him had become obnoxious, hideous! ”