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Chapter 2 A TORN TELEGRAM

Word Count: 2674    |    Released on: 28/11/2017

s full of cars flying countryward for the Saturday half-holiday, toward golf and tennis, green fields and babbling girls. I gritted my teeth and thought of McKnight at Richmond

not been without effect. I did not transfer the notes to my pocket, and, if I had, it would n

ere were queer things coming, and to be on you

er on the trigger of a six-shooter (which is novelesque for revolver), the result would have been the same. And the next time you want a little

shortly. "Don't you suppose the whol

overboard when he hasn't any further use for them and drowns them; he forgets the coffee-pot and the frying-pan and all the other small essentials, and, if he car

unusual had ever happened to me; friends of mine had sometimes sailed the high seas of adventure or skirted the coasts of chance, but all of the shipwrecks had occurred after a woman passenger had been taken on. "Ergo," I had alw

ext week? Otherwise aren't you comfortable? Isn't your house in order? Do you want to sell a pony in order to have the library don

hat perhaps I did. I was confoundedly lonely. For the first time in my life its even course began to wa

man and woman dined together, a different atmosphere prevailed. My attention was first caught by the woman's face. She had been speaking earnestly across the table, her profile turned to me. I had noticed casually her earnest manner, her somber clothes, and the grea

g over his collar. He was probably fifty, bald, grotesque, sullen, and yet not without a suggestion of powe

and stress she rather interested me. I had an idle inclination to advise the waiter to remove the bottled temptation from the table. I

efulness later, and shamelessly watched the tableau before me. The woman's protest evidently went for nothing: across the table the man grunted mon

m in time!" she was say

ad I not met them again, later that evening, in the Pennsylvania station. The situation between them had not visibly altered: the same dogged determination

step by step, I had almost reached the window, a tall woman whom I had not no

you buy yours?" she asked. "I have

and a certain amount of stateliness, but the crowd was pushing behind me, and some one was standing

?" I asked. "Lower e

ce," she said. "Thank

o help her with her luggage. I followed them leisurely t

tween walls of dingy, breeze-repelling curtains, while the two seats at each end of the car were piled high with suitcases and umbrellas. The perspiring

and passed the time until nearly eleven with cigarettes and a magazine. The car was very close. It was a warm night, and before turning in I

he air was growing cooler as we got into the mountains. I said good night to the brakeman and went back to my berth. To my surprise, lower ten was already occupied-a suit-case projected

truder was asleep-very much asleep-and an overwhelming odor of whisky proclaimed that he would probably remain asleep until morning. I was ir

he merely grunted and turned over. As he did so, I saw his featur

d a solution of the difficulty. "There's no one in lower nine," he suggested, pulling open the curtains just acr

be just as unwakable as the man opposite. I undressed leisurely, making sure of the s

ly, putting my shoes out for the porter to polish, and stowing

and with the unhygienic-looking blanket turned back-I have always a dis

was something chilling in the thought of the second section pounding along behind us. Once, as I was dozing, our locomotive whistled a sh

perhaps ten minutes, possibly half an hour. Then, without the slightest warning, as the train rounded a curve, a heavy body was thrown into my berth. The incident, trivial as it seemed, was startling in its suddenness, for although my ears were painfully straine

s with an explosion that tears the very air. I was more and more irritable: I sat on the edge of the berth and hoped the snorer would choke to death. He had considerable vitality, however; he withstood one shock after another and surviv

t he blossoms into gaudy colors in his pajamas and dressing-gowns? It would take a Turk to feel at home befor

to dodge. The woman, however, was quicker than I; she gave me a startled glance, wh

bare ankles, my one match burned to the end and went out, and still I stared. For I had seen on her expressive face a haunting look that was horror, nothing less. Heaven knows, I am

ried to break into the house, and had startled the parlor maid into bed for a week. So I tried to assure myself that I had imagined the lady's distress-or caused it, perhaps-and to dismiss her from my mind. Perhaps she was merely anxious about the unpleasant gentleman of the restaurant. I thought smugly that I could have told

way to low hills. At intervals we passed smudges of gray white, no doubt in daytime comfortable farms, whic

urned with a shiver to go in. As I did so a bit of paper fluttered into the air and settled on my sleeve, like a butterfly on a g

he scrap, but it left me puzzled and tho

s my berth-the one I had b

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