Lost Man's Lane: A Second Episode in the Life of Amelia ButterworthGreen, Anna Katharine
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Lost Man's Lane: A Second Episode in the Life of Amelia Butterworth
Green, Anna Katharine
Detective and mystery stories; New York (State) -- Fiction
"You are asking the impossible not only of the community, but yourself.
William can never re-establish himself. He is of too rude a make. The
girls may recover the esteem they seem to have lost, but William--Why,
if the cause of those disappearances was found to-day, and found at the
remotest end of this road or even up in the mountains, where no one
seems to have looked for it, William would still be known throughout the
county as a rough and cruel man. I have tried to stand his friend, but
it's been against odds, Miss Butterworth. Even his sisters recognize
this, and show their lack of confidence in our friendship. But I would
like to oblige you."
I knew he ought to go. I knew that if he had simply lingered the five
minutes which common courtesy allowed, that curious eyes would be
looking from Loreen's window, and that at any minute I might expect some
interference from Lucetta, who had read through this man's forbearance
toward William the very natural distrust he could not but feel toward so
uncertain a character. Yet with such an opportunity at my command, how
could I let him go without another question?
"Mr. Trohm," said I, "you have the kindest heart and the closest lips,
but have you ever thought that Deacon Spear----"
He stopped me with a really horrified look. "Deacon Spear's house was
thoroughly examined yesterday," said he, "as mine will be to-day. Don't
insinuate anything against him! Leave that for foolish William." Then
with the most charming return to his old manner, for I felt myself in a
measure rebuked, he lifted his hat and urged his horse forward. But,
having withdrawn himself a step or two, he paused and with the slightest
gesture toward the little hut he was facing, added in a much lower tone
than any he had yet used: "Besides, Deacon Spear is much too far away
from Mother Jane's cottage. Don't you remember that I told you she never
could be got to go more than forty rods from her own doorstep?" And,
breaking into a quick canter, he rode away.
I was left to think over his words and the impossibility of my picking
up any other clue than that given me by Mr. Gryce.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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