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Updated: June 19, 2025
I wonder that I made so blind a bargain. I wonder that I did not ask him, before it was too late, what his conversation with Margaret Murchie in the garden had meant and what secret it was that lurked like a clawed creature of the night, ready to eat away, bit by bit, the happiness of an innocent man. When I left Judge Colfax that day, the only questions in my mind concerned Julianna.
With the aid of a friend who accompanied him, Mr. Murchie pried up the car and removed from beneath it the dead body of a young man which was later identified as that of J. M. Bassett, a student at Ridgley, whose home is in Denver, Colorado.
Hostages were taken, as usual, these including Major Henry L. Higginson, President A. Lawrence Lowell of Harvard University, Major James M. Curley, Edward A. Filene, Margaret Deland, William A. Paine, Ellery Sedgwick, Mrs. John L. Gardner, Charles W. Eliot, Louis D. Brandeis, Bishop William Lawrence, Amy Lowell, T. Jefferson Coolidge, Thomas W. Lawson, Guy Murchie, and Cardinal O'Connell.
Do you suppose your wife knows she is out of it?" "I don't believe so," said he. "I watched the window all the time we were taking Margaret into this limousine. The curtains never moved." "Good!" I cried. "Now, Miss Murchie, listen to what I say. How often does your mistress call you during the day?" "Every three or four hours, I think, sir." "Very well. Take this umbrella and go back. Use Mr.
Crazed with the lack of it, I always at last gave up my struggle, and with my heart filled with the tormented affections of a father, I went back to my watching and waiting, to my interest in her school, her clothes, her young friends, her health, her afternoon walks. I watched Margaret Murchie, too, with strange memories that caught me by the throat. And ever and ever I watched the Judge.
His literal sense of honor, his narrow conscience which led him into inexpediency, seemed to me a part of a feminine rather than of a masculine nature, and more ridiculous than high-minded. "Well, wait here, then," I snapped back at him as Margaret Murchie opened the door. "If necessary I will call you." The old servant said nothing until we were in the hall, but her face was white with fear.
The Judge waited for a moment before a door opened slowly somewhere beneath the balcony and a stream of artificial light escaped through the crack and for a brief second lay like a piece of yellow ribbon across the grass. Then he was joined by some one whose voice I recognized as that of Margaret Murchie. "I came back," I heard him whisper, "because I saw that you had something to say to me.
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