by three o’clock to-day the body of the girl, concerning
whom nothing is known here, other than that she came
here with her companion, was brought up and turned
over to the authorities. That of the man has not yet
been found. The water in the immediate vicinity of the
accident in some places being over thirty feet deep, it is
not certain whether the trolling and dredging will yield
the other body or not. In the case of a similar accident
which took place here some fifteen years ago, neither
body was ever recovered.
To the lining of the small jacket which the girl wore was
sewed the tag of a Pittsfield dealer. Also in her shoe
lining was stamped the name of Jacobs of this same
city. But other than these there was no evidence as to
her identity. It is assumed by the authorities here that if
she carried a bag of any kind it lies at the bottom of the
lake.
The man is recalled as being tall, dark, about thirty-five
years of age, and wore a light green suit and straw hat
with a white and blue band. The girl appears to be not
more than twenty-five, five feet five inches tall, and
weighs 130 pounds. She wore her hair, which was long
and dark brown, in braids about her forehead. On her
left middle finger is a small gold ring with an amethyst
setting. The police of Pittsfield and other cities in this
vicinity have been notified, but as yet no word as to her
identity has been received.
This item, commonplace enough in the usual grist of
summer accidents, interested Clyde only slightly. It seemed
odd, of course, that a girl and a man should arrive at a
small lake anywhere, and setting forth in a small boat in
broad daylight thus lose their lives. Also it was odd that
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648
afterwards no one should be able to identify either of them.
And yet here it was. The man had disappeared for good.
He threw the paper down, little concerned at first, and
turned to other things—the problem that was confronting
him really—how he was to do. But later—and because of
that, and as he was putting out the light before getting into
bed, and still thinking of the complicated problem which his
own life here presented, he was struck by the thought (what
devil’s whisper?—what evil hint of an evil spirit?)—
supposing that he and Roberta—no, say he and Sondra—
(no, Sondra could swim so well, and so could he)—he and
Roberta were in a small boat somewhere and it should
capsize at the very time, say, of this dreadful complication
which was so harassing him? What an escape? What a
relief from a gigantic and by now really destroying problem!
On the other hand—hold—not so fast!—for could a man
even think of such a solution in connection with so difficult a
problem as his without committing a crime in his heart, really
—a horrible, terrible crime? He must not even think of such
a thing. It was wrong—wrong—terribly wrong. And yet,
supposing,—by accident, of course—such a thing as this
did occur? That would be the end, then, wouldn’t it, of all
his troubles in connection with Roberta? No more terror as
to her—no more fear and heartache even as to Sondra. A
noiseless, pathless, quarrelless solution of all his present
difficulties, and only joy before him forever. Just an
accidental, unpremeditated drowning—and then the
glorious future which would be his!
But the mere thinking of such a thing in connection with
Roberta at this time—(why was it that his mind persisted in
identifying her with it?) was terrible, and he must not, he
must not, allow such a thought to enter his mind. Never,
never, never! He must not. It was horrible! Terrible! A
thought of murder, no less! Murder?!!! Yet so wrought up
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649
had he been, and still was, by the letter which Roberta had
written him, as contrasted with the one from Sondra—so
delightful and enticing was the picture of her life and his as
she now described it, that he could not for the life of him
quite expel that other and seemingly easy and so natural a
solution of all his problem—if only such an accident could
occur to him and Roberta. For after all he was not planning
any crime, was he? Was he not merely thinking of an
accident that, had it occurred or could it but occur in his
case…. Ah—but that “could it but occur.” There was the
dark and evil thought about which he must not, he must not
think. He MUST NOT. And yet—and yet, … He was an
excellent swimmer and could swim ashore, no doubt—
whatever the distance. Whereas Roberta, as he knew from
swimming with her at one beach and another the previous
summer, could not swim. And then—and then—well and
then, unless he chose to help her, of course….
As he thought, and for the time, sitting in the lamplight of
his own room between nine-thirty and ten at night, a
strange and disturbing creepiness as to flesh and hair and
finger-tips assailed him. The wonder and the horror of such
a thought! And presented to him by this paper in this way.
Wasn’t that strange? Besides, up in that lake country to
which he was now going to Sondra, were many, many
lakes about everywhere—were there not? Scores up there
where Sondra was. Or so she had said. And Roberta loved
the out-of-doors and the water so—although she could not
swim—could not swim—could not swim—could not swim.
And they or at least he was going where lakes were, or they
might, might they not—and if not, why not? since both had
talked of some Fourth of July resort in their planning, their
final departure—he and Roberta.
But, no! no! The mere thought of an accident such as that
in connection with her, however much he might wish to be
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650
rid of her—was sinful, dark and terrible! He must not let his
mind run on any such things for even a moment. It was too
wrong—too vile—too terrible! Oh, dreadful thought! To think
it should have come to him! And at this time of all times—
when she was demanding that he go away with her!
Death!
Murder!
The murder of Roberta!
But to escape her of course—this unreasonable,
unshakable, unchangeable demand of hers! Already he
was quite cold, quite damp—with the mere thought of it.
And now—when—when—! But he must not think of that!
The death of that unborn child, too!!
But how could any one even think of doing any such thing
with calculation—deliberately? And yet—many people were
drowned like that—boys and girls—men and women—here
and there—everywhere the world over in the summer time.
To be sure, he would not want anything like that to happen
to Roberta. And especially at this time. He was not that kind
of a person, whatever else he was. He was not. He was
not. He was not. The mere thought now caused a damp
perspiration to form on his hands and face. He was not that
kind of a person. Decent, sane people did not think of such
things. And so he would not either—from this hour on.
In a tremulous state of dissatisfaction with himself—that any
such grisly thought should have dared to obtrude itself upon
him in this way—he got up and lit the lamp—re-read this
disconcerting item in as cold and reprobative way as he
could achieve, feeling that in so doing he was putting
anything at which it hinted far from him once and for all.
Then, having done so, he dressed and went out of the
house for a walk—up Wykeagy Avenue, along Central
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651
Avenue, out Oak, and then back on Spruce and to Central
again—feeling that he was walking away from the
insinuating thought or suggestion that had so troubled him
up to now. And after a time, feeling better, freer, more
natural, more human, as he so much wished to feel—he
returned to his room, once more to sleep, with the feeling
that he had actually succeeded in eliminating completely a
most insidious and horrible visitation. He must never think
of it again! He must never think of it again. He must never,
never, never think of it—never.
And then falling into a nervous, feverish doze soon
thereafter, he found himself dreaming of a savage black
dog that was trying to bite him. Having escaped from the
fangs of the creature by waking in terror, he once more fell
asleep. But now he was in some very strange and gloomy
place, a wood or a cave or narrow canyon between deep
hills, from which a path, fairly promising at first, seemed to
lead. But soon the path, as he progressed along it, became
narrower and narrower and darker, and finally disappeared