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Mart Brenner's wife laid down the ladle with which she had been stirring the contents of a pot that was simmering on the big, black stove, and, dragging her crippled foot behind her, she hobbled heavily to the door. As she opened it a new horde of fog-wraiths blew in. The world was a gray, wet blanket.
Dick Roamer helped him, and between them they drew him to the door, his heart-broken calls and cries piercing every corner of the room. They whisked him out of Mrs. Brenner's sight as quickly as they could. The other men piled out of the door, blocking the last vision of her son, but his bleating cries came shrilling back on the foggy air. Mart closed the door. Mrs.
But her eyes kept returning to the clock and thence to the darkening square of window where the fog pressed heavily into the very room. Out of the gray silence came a shattering sound that sent the ladle crashing out of Mrs. Brenner's nerveless hand and brought a moan from the dozing old woman!
Dick Roamer helped him, and between them they drew him to the door, his heart-broken calls and cries piercing every corner of the room. They whisked him out of Mrs. Brenner's sight as quickly as they could. The other men piled out of the door, blocking the last vision of her son, but his bleating cries came shrilling back on the foggy air. Mart closed the door. Mrs.
Brenner's hand closed with convulsive force on Tobey's shoulder. "Tobey!" she screamed desperately, "where was you this afternoon? All afternoon?" "On the beach," mumbled Tobey, shrinking into himself. "Tobey! Tobey! Where'd you get blood on the box?" He looked around. His cloudy eyes rested on her face helplessly. "I dunno," he said.
There was something touching in her frightened old face. "A man a stranger was killed up on the hill," Munn told her. "What's that got to do with us?" she countered. "Not a thing, Mrs. Brenner, probably, but I've just to make sure where every man in the village was this afternoon." Mrs. Brenner's lids flickered.
Just beyond the great, glass-roofed building, wherein in happier times the visitors went daily to drink the medicated waters, was the hotel. A rheumatic old woman with a sash, who acted as carriage opener, with a young boy for porter, met "Captain von Brenner's sister." In the hall the corpulent host bowed before her. "Captain von Brenner?" queried Ruth. "I am his sister." Mine host paled.
"Come in," she told them. They came in, pulling off their caps, and stood huddled in a group in the center of the room. Her husband reluctantly stood up. "Evening!" he said, with his unusual smile. "Bad out, ain't it?" "Yep!" Munn replied. "Heavy fog. We're soaked." Olga Brenner's pitiful instinct of hospitality rose in her breast. "I got some hot soup on the stove.
Brenner's hand closed with convulsive force on Tobey's shoulder. "Tobey!" she screamed desperately, "where was you this afternoon? All afternoon?" "On the beach," mumbled Tobey, shrinking into himself. "Tobey! Tobey! Where'd you get blood on the box?" He looked around. His cloudy eyes rested on her face helplessly. "I dunno," he said.
Dripping! Olga! Blood!" "But the road to the beach begins there too," Mrs. Brenner cried, above the cracked voice, "and Tobey saw his pa before he came home. He said he did. I tell you, Mart was on the hill. He put on Tobey's shoes. Before God I'm telling you the truth." Dick Roamer spoke hesitatingly, "Mebbe the old woman's right, Munn. Mebbe those tracks are Brenner's." Mrs.
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