Laura Brayton — page 202: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

a tht a TT eee et ithe = he lel” 2 ee Ve bel a eee Si) Sag ‘ . a fy : 5 ah ps! ah oe at ASO vy MENON (ery bt thal gin Neteat" VAltiwes' |) ¥ ’ 7 , ee *) rue | : 7 a A “," : : ‘ . *s LAURA BRAYTON. 193 horror silenced him, so terrible was the sight he saw. There, with his eyes wildly staring at him, his face purple with the hue of suffocation and horrible in its distortion, rigid already—upright against the shelves of the safe, was the dead body of the ruffian! Fully an hour and a half in that double-doored, air-tight safe, what else but death could have oc- curred? ‘Too closely confined to make noise enough to be heard, perhaps at first afraid, and then too weak to do it, for nothing destroys strength so sud- denly as suffocation. “Dead?” groaned Enoch Sharp, at last. “Dead!” came in a hollow groan through the room. “Great Heaven! am I never to rest?” moaned the lawyer. “Never! never/” came the echo, in the same hol- low, terrible voice. “Hiends! mock me as you will, I will conquer! If this man’s arm is gone, my own shall do the deed. I will not let Luke Withers live to rob me of my years of savings, years of toil. Alone—alone I will do the——” “Murder !” The word was spoken for him, and, gaspingly, he moaned it out again: “Yes, the murder!” “Ha, ha, ha!” That horrible, mocking laugh was too much for him. He fled from the room, but only to a closet where he could get a drink; for in stimulants alone could he gather courage now. Glass after glass of strong brandy was taken by Enoch Sharp before he cold return to the room. (Efe) Eomicbook