Американская трагедия

Chapter 7

           "

           AndClydeunconsciouslywethisdrylipswithhistongueandswallowedtomoistenhisalreadydrythroat.

           "Idon’tsupposeanyofto-day’spaperswouldhaveanythingaboutityet.Hasanyonelooked?"inquiredWynettePhant,whohadnotheardSondra’sopeningremark.

           "Thereain’tnopapers,"commentedBurchardTaylor."Besides,it’snotlikelyyet,didn’tSondrasayshejusthearditfromBlancheLockeoverthephone?She’supnearthere."

           "Oh,yes,that’sright."

           AndyetmightnotthatsmalllocalafternoonpaperofSharon—TheBanner,wasn’tit—havesomethingastothis?Ifonlyhecouldseeityetto-night!

           Butanotherthought!ForHeaven’ssake!Itcametohimnowforthefirsttime.Hisfootprints!Werethereanyinthemudofthatshore?Hehadnotevenstoppedtolook,climbingoutsohastilyashedid.Andmighttherenothavebeen?Andthenwouldtheynotknowandproceedtofollowhim—themanthosethreemensaw?CliffordGolden!Thatridedownthismorning.HisgoingouttotheCranstons’intheircar.ThatwetsuitoverintheroomattheCranstons’!Hadanyoneinhisabsencebeeninhisroomasyettolook,examine,inquire—openhisbag,maybe?Anofficer?God!Itwasthereinhisbag.Butwhyinhisbagoranywhereelsenearhimnow?Whyhadhenothiddenitbeforethis—thrownitinthelakehere,maybe,withastoneinit?Thatwouldkeepitdown.

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