Charred Wood

As the two men walked along, Mark Griffin, tall and of athletic build, offered a sharp contrast to the typical American beside him. With his gray tweeds, Mark, from his cap to s...

In the long after years Mark Griffin used to wonder at the strange way in which love for Ruth Atheson entered his life. Mark always owned that, somehow, this love seemed sent fo...

"Hurry! I'll tell you later. Pack only what you need. Here, you pay the bills." Mark shoved his purse into Saunders' hands. "Keep the rooms; we'll need them when we return. I'm...

The detective was sitting in Mark's bedroom, and the clock was striking midnight in the hotel office below. They had returned together from the bluff road and had been discussin...

All Sihasset was in the little church next morning. Mrs. O'Leary, grand even in her widow's weeds, had a front seat before St. Joseph's altar, where she could see everything, an...

A long, low-built limousine kept passing and repassing the Ministry, and taking excursions to the parks, in an evident effort to kill time. At last, the street being well clear...

The man lay in the tall grass. Behind him the wall of the Killimaga estate, from its beginning some fifty yards to his left, stretched away to his right for over a thousand feet...

It was early next morning when Saunders knocked at Mark Griffin's door. His knock was soft, for Mark's room adjoined Father Murray's. When Mark rose to let him in, the detective...

The autumn tints were full on the trees in Sihasset, but the air was still balmy enough to make the veranda of Father Murray's residence far more pleasant than indoors. The Past...

When Mark arrived at the church, which stood quite close to the little rectory, he heard the choir singing the _Veni Creator_, and remembered enough of former visits to church s...

Two days had elapsed since the unpleasant incident at the rectory, and Mark, engrossed in thoughts by no means in harmony with the peaceful country through which he wandered, wa...

It lacked but five minutes to the hour of ten next morning when the card of the Minister's secretary was handed to Father Murray. The priest sent down a polite request for the v...

"Then," answered the secretary, "I regret to say that he cannot receive you. A diplomat's time is not his own. I am in his confidence. Could you not give me some inkling as to w...

That night, tossing in bed, Mark Griffin found the lady of the tree occupying the center of his thoughts. He had to acknowledge to himself the simple truth, that she interested...

That night, Mark Griffin and Father Murray sat in the priest's room at the New Willard until very late. Father Murray was by far the more cheerful of the two, in spite of the st...

All next day Mark Griffin wandered about brooding. Father Murray had returned to his old place in his thoughts. Distress had bred sympathy between the two, and instinctively Mar...

Ann bustled into Father Murray's study next morning with something on her mind. When Ann had something on her mind the pastor was always quite likely to notice it, for Ann never...

"I must apologize, Father," he began, "that you had to come for me. I should not have let such a thing happen. But I thought it best not to break in upon you after--" Mark stopp...

A few hours later--about ten o'clock--an automobile stopped in front of the New Willard Hotel, and the Minister and his secretary alighted. The visitors were shown at once into...

"You must pardon me, Father," began Mark, "for coming so soon after your noon meal--" Mark hesitated about saying "luncheon," not knowing the habits of the rectory--"but, frankl...

Leaving Father Murray at the rectory, Mark went on to the hotel. Entering the lobby, he gave vent to a savage objurgation as he recognized the man speaking to the clerk. Mark's...

In an upstairs room of a Washington Ministry three men sat in conference. One, a stout, bearded man, was seated behind a flat-top desk on which he constantly thrummed with nervo...

Late that afternoon Mark sat alone in the great library at Killimaga, his head thrown back, his hands grasping the top of his chair. His thoughts were of the future, and he did...