Chapter Six: Brought Upon Himself

..Brought Upon Himself..

But night came without explanation. Nothing happened. He slept soundly. There was no other guest at the inn but an elderly man, apparently a tourist like himself. He wore gold-rimmed glasses, and in the morning Earzo overheard him asking the landlord what direction he should take for Winters Valley. His teeth began to chatter and a weakness came into his knees.
"You turn to the left at the crossroads,'' Earzo broke in before the landlord could reply.
''You'll see the signpost about two miles from here, and after that it's a matter of four miles more."
How in the world did he know, flashed horribly through him.
"I'm going that way myself," he was saying next. "I'll go with you for a bit - if you don't mind!" The words came out impulsively and ill considered; of their own accord they came. For his own direction was exactly opposite. He did not want the man to go alone. The stranger, however, easily evaded his offer of companionship. He thanked him with the remark that he was starting later in the day . . . They were standin, all three, beside the horse-trough, in front of the inn, when at that very moment a tramp, slouching along the road, looked up and asked the time of day. And it was the man with the gold-rimmed glasses who told him.
"T'ank you." the tramp replied, passing on with his slow, slouching gait, while the landlord, a talkative fellow, proceeded to remark upon the number of French that lived here and were ready to swell the Teutonic invasion which he, for his part, deemed imminent.
But Earzo heard it not. Before he had gone a mile upon his way he went into the woods to fight his conscience all alone. His feebleness, his cowardice, was surely criminal. Real anguish tortured him. A dozen times he decided to back upon his steps, and a dozen times the singular authority that whispered he had no right to interfere prevented him. How could he act upon knowledge gained by eavesdropping? How interfere in the private business of another's hidden life merely because he had overheard, as at the telephone, its secret dangers? Some inner confusion prevented straight thinking altogether. The stranger would merely think him mad. He had no 'fact' to go upon. He smothered a hundred impulses . . . and finally went on his way with a shaking, troubled heart.

Author's Note

this is the final chapter of 'the clairvoyant murder'

Reviews

[PyroKitty24]

Oh wow. I'm not fully sure what to think. This was so good, a bit confusing, but good. That poor old man. I wonder what will happen?

[JulieZee]

"How in the world did he know, flashed horribly through him." This sentence seems awkward.