"And sir, I also desire to give to the fund for properly providing
for the salaries of our professors and other teachers, the sum of
two hundred and fifty thousand dollars--those men who teach in our
Alma Mater.
"And I ask one word more: I have arranged that Professor Irving is
to be buried from my house. If you will permit me, I will leave now."
The alumni of Huntington College were silent. There was no sound,
save the occasional pushing of a chair, or the click of a plate or a
glass upon the table, as Martin Delano passed from the room.
It was after one o'clock. Martin Delano was in his library, his arms
flung across the table, his face between them.
In the opaque blur of swirling rain, his car had passed the corner
of Fourth Avenue and Ninth Street at precisely half-past four that
afternoon. He had happened to take out his watch at the moment the
Metropolitan clock struck the second quarter.
He would never know whether it had been his car or another!
SLOW POISON
BY ALICE DUER MILLER
From _The Saturday Evening Post_
The Chelmsford divorce had been accomplished with the utmost decorum,
not only outwardly in the newspapers, but inwardly among a group of
intimate friends.
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