Американская трагедия

Chapter 6

           Anditwasthenthathehadbeguntounderstandthattheywerejustcountrymenorguides—notaposseinpursuitofhim—andthatifhewerecalmandciviltheywouldhavenoleastsuspicionthathewasthemurdererthathewas.

           Butafterwardhehadsaidtohimself—"Buttheywillrememberme,walkingalongthislonelyroadatthishourwiththisbag,won’tthey?"Andsoatoncehehaddecidedthathemusthurry—hurry—andnotbeseenbyanyothersanywherethere.

           Then,hourslaterandjustasthemoonwasloweringtowardthewest,asicklyyellowpalloroverspreadingthewoodsandmakingthenightevenmorewretchedandwearisome,hehadcometoThreeMileBayitself—asmallcollectionofnativeandsummercottagesnestlingatthenorthernmostendofwhatwasknownastheIndianChain.Andinit,ashecouldseefromabendintheroad,afewpalelightsstilltwinkling.Stores.Houses.Streetlamps.Butalldiminthepalelight—sodimandeerietohim.Onethingwasplain—atthishouranddressedashewasandwithhisbaginhand,hecouldnotenterthere.Thatwouldbetofixcuriosityaswellassuspiciononhim,assuredly,ifanyonewasstillabout.AndasthelaunchthatranbetweenthisplaceandSharon,fromwhencehewouldproceedtoPinePoint,didnotleaveuntileight-thirty,hemusthideawayinthemeantimeandmakehimselfaspresentableaspossible.

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