A Wonderful Secret, or Marion Marlowe's Discovery — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

18 Miss Allyn was behind them in the space of a second. Then the three stood in con- sternation and stared for another minute. The body of-a man was lying in one cor- ner of the room, and as they gazed at it in _ horror, Marion suddenly found her voice: “Oh, father! Alma! It is he, Matt Jenkins! He has been murdered in his own house! Who could have done it?” CHAPTER X, SUSPICION. A shout from the men outside brought Deacon Marlowe to his senses. The build- ing they were in had taken fire and they must make their escape instantly. “Come, quick, Marion! The place is afire!” he yelled, but his daughter did not heed him. She was picking up the scattered papers and stuffing them into her pocket. “Go on, father! I’m coming!’ she an- swered, calmly. “These papers are about Bert and I am going to save them! There's the safe in the corner, do please shut it, Alma! Who knows how many birthrights are in there—stolen by that man, Matt Jen- kins!” ‘‘He’s gone ter his reward,” said the dea- con, solemnly, as another shout from outside warned him to hurry. Miss Allyn slammed the heavy door of the old-fashioned safe and fastened it securely; then the three made their way through a cloud of smoke that was fast filling the little entry. As Deacon Marlowe reached the stepstone he tried to speak, but the smoke had choked him so he could not utter a syllable. Miss Allyn took him by the arm and led, him away, but Marion still stood in the door- way of the poor farm, as if reluctant to leave It. The other buildings were in ruins now, and the roof of the structure she was in was burning vigorously. Boys and men had turned their attention toward the last remaining remnant of the old farm, but they were powerless to save it, for there was no more water, As Marion stood outlined against a cloud of smoke, a sudden shaft of light from the setting sun fell squarely upon her features. For an instant her danger was forgotten by them all, for there was something in her appearance that was almost weird and un- earthly. . Slowly she raised one arm above her heautiful head, and her voice rang out across the meadows like the blast of a bugle: “Tlas any one seen Bert Jackson since the MY QUEEN. fire started? Or does any one know that he was in the poor farm?” | There was no reply, and the men and bovs only stared at each other. eS ‘ithout waiting a second the young gir went on: es a _"“Has any one seen Constable. Perkins since the fire broke out, or has any one seen the overseer, Matt Jenkins?” | _ Still there was no reply except the crack- ling of the flames and the sudden ominuos snapping of burning timbers. -* Come, Marion, do!” cried Alma Allyn, Sharply. “It is not safe for you to stay there a minute longer; besides, the men must go in at once, if they want to bring out that body!” Marion moved down the steps—she had completely forgotten Matt Jenkins. . Her senses seemed dazed through her anxiety about Bert’s welfare. There was a groan of horror as Miss Allyn spoke and, in an instant Bill Bennett and Dan Robbins rushed into the building. When they emerged the whole group on the outside had moved to a safer distance, for the wind had shifted and was driving the flames toward them. “It’s him, as true as gospel, an’ he’s bin murdered,” said Bennett, hoarsely, as they laid the body of the dead overseer under the lee of the well curb. “His throat’s bin jabbed by a jack-knife, as sure’s I’m alive. Now, who in thundera- tion could her done it?” 7 A sharp laugh from one of the poor farm boys drew every one’s attention. The poor ill-treated child had caught a glimpse of the dead face and had promptly gone into a fit of hysterics. “They ain't none on ’em sorry, I reck’n,” muttered Deacon Marlowe. “Matt wuz er brute tew most on ’em an’, of course, thev hate him, but ther warnt one on ‘em thet would er dared tew cut up thet air caper!” He pointed to the dead man’s throat as he spoke, and every one shivered; then Dan Robbins, the assistant overseer, moved a lit- tle nearer to the body. “Thar’s them thet would dare ef they got ther chance,” he said, grimly. ‘“Thar’s Black Jim, ther nigger, he hez walloped so often; he'd hev give him ther knife at enny min- ute; an’ ther’s lame Charley, he aint one ter fergit old scores! Matt hez horse-whipped him within’ an inch er his life, but Charley wuz out in ther field, so he couldn't er done at - “Think again, Dan Robbins,” spoke up a familiar voice, and old Judge Walters came sp. puffing from the hate vith. wbich he had.