File:Harper's New Monthly Magazine Volume 104 December 1901 to May 1902 (1902) (14596789858).jpg

Identifier: harpersnew0104various (find matches)
Title: Harper's New Monthly Magazine Volume 104 December 1901 to May 1902
Year: 1902 (1900s)
Authors: various
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Publisher: New York: Harper & Brothers Publishers
Contributing Library: Brigham Young University-Idaho, David O. McKay Library
Digitizing Sponsor: Brigham Young University-Idaho

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there wasa story of crime and murder bein actual-ly plotted under my roof, goin on, as itwere, in the drawin - room, I couldntsleep a wink! I reassured Mrs. Boxborough. Itisnt crime—at least—that is—the plotisnt criminal. Really! thats mysterious, at oncesmiled Mrs. Wallace. At. least the plot.What else is there to be criminal, if notthe plot ? The name, said Mrs. Hawkins. Itis full of mystery, to begin with; itsplagiarism, a great crime in itself. It occurs to me that it would be per-fectly delightful if you would read iissomething aloud, suggested Mrs. Chrich-ton. Something short, kindly interrupt-ed Mrs. Enderly, that could be finishedin one seance. Or, said Mrs. Hawkins, better still,tell us the plot of A Monstrous Moodwhen you join us in the drawing-room. She held back the tapestries to passfrom dining-room to drawing-room, anddisappeared, white and dazzling. Theheavy folds opened to let her through,then swung in place, a dark wall be-tween us, and all of me, save ears that
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(See Page 652J I AM WRITING A NOVEL Vol. CIV.—No. 622.-73 656 HARPERS MONTHLY MAGAZINE. heard from habit, and habit that smokedand sipped liqueur with the convives,went with her. Who is Mrs. Hawkins ? I asked, with indecent haste. Enderly laughed. The wiry little Scotsitting on the extreme edge of his chairwas less good form than the clothes hewore. He snapped, his lip curled withthe snarl: Thus by your question ar-guing yourself unknown, Prendergast!Why, my dear fellow, Mrs. JosiahHawkins, of Clubfoot Ranch, Texas!Her income is as large as reported, and Idont expect there are as many negativesof any other professional beauty on saleas there are of this same stunning Amer-ican. I scarcely looked at him, and turnedto the elder Boxborough. Where is Mr.Hawkins ? Again Enderlys horrid snarl: Wedont really know, Prendergast, but wehope for the best! What do you mean? Only charity! Hes dead! I smiled sicklily back at the cur; hisnews was so curious a relief that I hatedhim less for a seco

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