Spencer and he had
come from the west en route to New York without any intention of
stopping off in Shelby. But once involved in play, they got so
interested that when within a few miles of the town, Spencer
proposed that they should leave the train and finish the game in
his own house. Whether circumstances aided them, or Spencer took
some extraordinary precautions against being recognised, will
never be known. But certain it is that he escaped all observation
at the station and even upon the road. When Scoville returned
alone, the storm had reached such a height that the roads were
deserted, and he, being an entire stranger here at that time,
naturally attracted no attention, and so was able to slip away on
the next train with just the drawback of buying a new ticket. I, a
boy of fifteen, trespassing where I did not belong, was the only
living witness of what had happened on this night of dreadful
storm, in the house which was now a ruin.
I realised the unpleasantness of the position in which this put
me, but not its responsibility. Scoville, ignorant that any other
breast than his own held the secret of that hour of fierce
temptation and murder, naturally scented no danger and rejoiced
without stint in his new acquisition. What evil might I not draw
down upon myself by disturbing him in it at this late day. If I
were going to do anything, I should have done it at first--so I
reasoned, and let the matter slide. I became interested in school
and study, and the years passed and I had almost forgotten the
occurrence, when suddenly the full remembrance came back upon me
with a rush.
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