I looked around in a
confused sort of a way, and discovered, to my surprise, that I was
standing almost at the water's edge on one of the docks near Battery
Place. It was daylight, and the sun was shining overhead. I then
concluded that I must have been out of my head for some time, and
questioning a stranger, who stood nearby, I learned that just fourteen
hours had elapsed since I had bade Arletta good-bye, and I could form no
recollection of the slightest incident that happened since then.
After watching the steamer until it had disappeared from view, I slowly
walked to a bench in Battery Park and sat down, in the depths of
despair, to reflect upon the strange occurrence. I must have sat there
for about an hour in deep meditation, when my attention was attracted by
a newspaper urchin, shouting at the top of his voice: "Paper! Extra! All
about the great murder." At the same time he rushed up to me, pushed a
paper into my hand, took the penny I offered him mechanically, and
scampered along.
"Another murder," mused I; "what a pity human beings cannot dwell
together without taking each other's lives."
Glancing over the headlines, I learned from the big black type that a
beautiful young woman had been murdered in cold blood. Reading further,
I was horrified to find that the young woman's name was Arletta Fogg,
and that she was murdered in her own rooms, at the Seraglio Apartments,
Central Park West. I could hardly believe my eyes saw the thing aright.
Pages:
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194