Thus they walked through the soft spring air, she wishing he would do that which he in his ignorance felt would be the unwisest thing he could attempt. Thus is life made up of paradoxical situations where a word, a look, an otherwise insignificant gesture, would clear away at one fell swoop mountainous clouds of doubt and misunderstanding.
Jane stood, one foot on the ground, the other on the step, her hand resting on the opened door of the car. A faintly provocative smile flitted over her face. Kenneth longed to seize this elusive, seductive girl in his arms, press her close to him, and tell her of his love. She wanted him to. Instead he steeled himself against yielding to the impulse that almost overcame him, and helped her with complete decorum into the car. …
They did not say much on the way home. Jane bade him good night, he thought somewhat coldly—as though she were vexed. He told her he was leaving the next morning for Atlanta to operate on Mrs. Tucker. She made no comment. He wondered as he drove home what he had done to offend her. …
As he neared the house, he suddenly remembered that he had promised to look in on old Mrs. Amos, whose “rheumatics” had been giving her considerable pain. It was charity work, as she would never be able to pay him. She had sent for him several times during the day, but he had been kept so busy he had had no time to go. He was annoyed at himself for promising to call to see the quarrelsome old woman who was far more dictatorial and exacting than most of the patients who paid him promptly. With a muttered imprecation at being bothered with her just after his annoying experience with Jane and her inexplicable behaviour, he drove through the darkened streets to Mrs. Amos’ home. He found her sitting in a creaky rocking-chair. She began immediately to pour maledictions on his head for neglecting her all day. He answered her shortly, gave her her medicine, and left.
Carefully guiding the car through the gullies and holes in the unpaved street, he set out for home. Nearing the corner of Harris and State Streets, he heard a sound as of several automobiles. He looked down Harris Street just in time to see three closed cars stop suddenly at the corner. From one of them two white-robed figures descended, lifting a large, black bundle that seemed exceedingly heavy. This done, the figures jumped hurriedly into the car, and it with the other two speeded away in the direction from which they had come.
Kenneth, his curiosity aroused, turned his car around and drove to the spot to see what was going on. As he slowed his car at the corner, a muffled groan came from the object lying there in the street. Hastily getting down, he turned it over and in the half-light found it to be the body of a human being. His hands felt sticky. Holding them close to his face, he found them smeared with tar.
He got from his car a small flashlight. Going back to the inert mass, he turned the ray of light on the body and found it to be that of a naked woman, covered with tar yet warm to the touch. Between the dabs of the sticky mess on the woman’s back were long welts, some of them bleeding, as though a heavy-thonged whip had been applied with great force. The hair was dishevelled and in its strands were bits of the melted tar. Kenneth experienced a feeling of nausea at the revolting sight. The woman lay on her face. From her mouth and nose there ran a stream of blood which already was forming a little pool beneath her face that became bloody mud as it mixed with the dust in the road. Seizing her by her left shoulder, Kenneth half raised the body and turned his flashlight on the woman’s face. It was Nancy Ware, the wife of the Negro killed by George Parker. Half carrying, half dragging the limp form, Kenneth managed in some fashion to get Nancy to her own home a few doors away. The door stood open as though Nancy had left it for a minute to call on one of her neighbours. On the table in the front room, there stood a lamp yet burning, the chimney blackened with the soot caused by the wind blowing upon it. Beside the lamp lay a garment on which Nancy had been sewing.
Kenneth placed her on the bed and hurried next door to summon help. His efforts were unsuccessful. He pounded on the door with both fists, calling out in his excitement to the occupants to open up. After what seemed an infinite delay, a window to the left of the door cautiously opened and an inquiring voice wanted to know what was the matter. Seeing who it was, the owner of the voice disappeared and a minute later opened the door. Kenneth hastily told what had happened, brushing aside a muttered excuse that the delay in answering was due to the fact that “I didn’ know but whut you might ’a’ been the p’lice.”
On going back to Nancy’s cottage, Kenneth gave her a restorative and endeavoured to relieve her suffering. She began to revive after a few minutes. In the meantime the neighbours called by Kenneth arrived, and they removed as much as they could of the tar from Nancy’s body. Kenneth then examined her back, finding it covered with long
