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Show TWO MEN, A PICTURE AND A PISTOL. Weldon threw down the paper impatiently, and Marton looked up with just a hint of question ques-tion in his dark eyes. Weldon lauglfefl, half apologetically. apol-ogetically. "One gets so out of patience with botchwork," he said. "I was reading that Heterick case. If I wanted to pommit suicide I'd do the job neatly or not at all." "Doubtless but I'm afraid we'll have to take your word for It." "Well, rather especially" and as Weldon broke off he turned, half unconsciously but wholly whol-ly lovingly, to the beautiful photographed face resting on the library table before him. Marston looked, too, and his eyes grew strange, while the drooping moustache which hid his mouth seemed suddenly to press closely down upon the rigid chin beneath. Then Weldon spoko again, half jesting, half serious:. "There is no excuse for such work as this. The man who deliberately plans suicide knows that he is preparing for his last act on earth. If he has never been careful before he should be so then. But look at Heterick! A note of explanation explana-tion which leaves everything at sea and the wretched bungle of the deed itself." "You would do better, doubtless." There was just a hint of sarcasm in the tone, and Weldon recognized and laughed over It in his own merry way. "To be sure," he said. 'To begin with" "Well?" "I would write a good-by note short and to the point one that even the stupidest could understand." un-derstand." "Ah, yes as for instance?" Weldon smiled hesitated then laughed aloud and drew a pencil and pad toward him. B "Wait," he said. H For a moment he wrote rapidly, smiling as he B did so Then lie pushed the pad across the table. B Marston picked it up curiously, and read aloud: B "To Whom it May Concern: This is my own B deed, for which no one is to blame but myself. B There are times when even to those seemingly B most fortunate life grows tiresome. B "ALBERT WELDON." B Marston smiled faintly. B 'It doesn't seem to explain much," he suggest- B ed- B "Well, no. But at least it would bar suspicion B from those who might profit by my death." B "Ye s, that is true, perhaps. And after wrlt- B ing-" B "After writing," said Weldon, opening his B drawer with a flourish "after writing would come B this!" B the other's grasp. Again Weldon's merry laugh B rang out. B "Upon my word!" ho said. "One would have B "Fr heaven's sake, Weldon!" said Marston, B reaching forward and wresting the pistol from B thought you believed me in earnest." Bf "You were very careless," said Marston. "And B the pistol is loaded, too," he added, and now belt be-lt neath his dark skin appeared suddenly a strange ML shade of pallor. B "Yes, it is loaded," said Weldon, carelessly, B "but" B Ho stopped shorT, staring. B Marston leaned swiftly forward. m B An instant later, with the report yet ringing B in his ears, Marston was wildly summoning the B household. But before he uttered his first cry B he had seen to it that the pistol lay just where It B might naturally have dropped1 from Weldon's B hand. Beside it was the writing pad with the B dead man's message. A red drop had somehow B fallen upon it; another stained the photograph. B George Homer Meyer, in Town Talk. |
