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242
The Destroyers
In the morning I was released, and told that Miss de Bar would not prosecute the charge. I had my freedom, but it meant nothing t o me. The papers had the full story, and I knew I could not stamp out the lie in many years, if ever. I hastened home ; Josephine would stand by me — and God knows I needed her comfort. But Josephine was not there. She had left a note for me. There is no need to give it here. It was the land of note that breeds murder in a man's soul ; and if Lawler had been in the room, I would have killed him with my bare hands. He had done his work well — so well that my wife believed I was a villain, and had left me. He had sworn revenge, and well had he kept his word.
It was a pathetic letter, telling me that she had no words of censure for me, that her happiness was ended. She had gone South to her mother's home,
"She sent you to me? Man, man, do you know what you
are saying?"
and begged me to make no attempt to see her again.
M y first impulse was to rush South, to force her to realize that it was a plant of Lawler's to ruin me. But calmer reasoning assured me that I would gain nothing b y impetuosity. For a day or two I shut myself from my friends and did a little stealthy detective work. Among other things, I found a couple of letters purporting to have been written to me by Coralie. One of them told me that she was 'would not entertain the thought of advances from a married man." The other threatened to inform my wife that I was making love to Coralie. The maid — who had disappeared — had probably been bought by Lawler and had placed the letters where Josephine was sure to find them. They had had much to do with the credence Josephine gave to the story of my escapade in the Lamont Street house.
£a good woman" and