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Updated: June 11, 2025
Wrandall?" asked Smith sharply. The gaunt old face, suddenly very much older than it had been before, took on a stern, defiant expression. "I spoke with her over the telephone at half past nine o'clock that night," said he steadily. Smith was not the only one to be surprised by this startling declaration.
"Do do you mean to imply that THAT had anything to do with her leaving your home?" he demanded, with a flush on his cheek. She met his look without flinching. "It was the beginning." "You you criticised her? You took her to task " "I notified her that she was to marry Leslie Wrandall, if she marries any one at all," she said in a perfectly level tone. "Good Lord, Mrs. Wrandall!"
Trembling all over, her teeth chattering, her breath coming in short little moans, the girl struggled up beside her and fell back in the seat. Without a word, Sara Wrandall drew the great buffalo robe over her and tucked it in about her feet and legs and far up about her body, which had slumped down in the seat. "You are very, very good," chattered the girl, almost inaudibly.
She had lived in dread of this ordeal; it had been promised the day before by Sara Wrandall, whose will was law to her. Now she had come to the very apex of realisation. She felt that her mind was going, that her blood was freezing.
An accusing gleam leaped into his eyes. "What has happened, Mrs. Wrandall?" he asked. She was quick to perceive the change in his voice and manner. "She prefers to live apart from me. That is all." "When was this decision reached?" "But yesterday. Soon after she came in from her walk with you."
"I regret to state that my memory for names does not go back to the Old Testament," said Wrandall, with a frosty smile. "There are no Smiths in the Old Testament," said the detective grimly. "I understand, Mr. Smith, that you are prepared to charge me with the murder of my husband." She said it very quietly, very levelly. Smith was a bit staggered. "Well, I er hardly that, Mrs.
Seventeen unnecessary years of proscription remained, and he had not intended them for Sara ALONE. He was not afraid of Sara, but for her. When the will was read and the condition revealed, Challis Wrandall took it in perfect good humour. He had the grace to proclaim in the bosom of his father's family that the old gentleman was a father-in-law to be proud of.
Not once had the fear entered her soul that Sara would turn against her. Her trust in Wrandall's wife was infinite. In her simple, devoted heart she could feel no prick of dread so far as the present was concerned. The past was dreadful, but it was the past, and its loathsomeness was moderated by subtle contrast with the present. As for the future, it belonged to Sara Wrandall. It was safe.
"He has not discussed it with me." "He believes his brother deserved what he got." "Oh!" "For that reason he has not taken an active part in hounding her down." She was silent for a long time, so long indeed that he turned to look at her. "A thoroughly decent, fair-minded chap is Leslie Wrandall," he pronounced, for want of something better to say.
Not that his resolve to search her out and claim her in spite of everything was likely to weaken, but that the absorbing figure of Sara Wrandall stood out most clearly in his reflections. What an amazing creature she was!
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