ONE OE SILVIA’S- “STORIES.”

Lyttelton Times, Volume CV, Issue 12398, 11 January 1901, Page 9

ONE OE SILVIA’S- “STORIES.”

(By GERTRUDE ATHERTON). Author of ‘Senator North,” “Parian® B Spsunhawky” "His Fortfonate Grace, “A Daughter of the Vine, ©tc., etc. While Sylvia Hunt was in the height fer career oh the “ Sait Francisco Searcher tend when matrimony had no place amo - her ambitious plans for the future, the [Editor called her to has office one Ued her brusquely to he seated. Sylv™ took the indicated chair with an iiert of her eyebrow; when the Chty Emtor waa brusque he was nervously persuading -Idmself that there was no reason why a girl should not be sent on a peculiarly senBotional and.possibly dangerous assignmen ’ “It looks as if they couldn t convict thus mm Tteadway,’hhe began, referring to a man'on- trial’ forhis life. “ There are several Wmwmr JinfcfAhX believe he’s guilty myself, •*Qd it would'be a great feather on the Cap if wo could prove it and inert ahead of the District Attorney. I iwadt' iVou to interview him- &nd size him top. Then”—he hesitated —“it is suspected Iftafr he spent the last night before be was •nested in a certain house at North Beach. Jl have had inquiries made concerning that house, and have gone myself to look at it. m looks like an ordinary,-old, ramatoohle, !gah Francisco building—one oritheiett[overs ,of the ' days of forty-nine. But to my Imind ■ thereV wmething suspicious about it. [The aim they’ve got out, ‘Room® to let, fcokahamles® enough, but when I rang the Wl W -aeked) to see the rooms, the woman L»a, rill sorts of excuses: said first that !tbey were all occupied. Then when I saad [that the-neighbouring grocer had told me [♦hat no one was ever seen coming, out of |tha house ' but herself, she got very red, and feud that-the rooms were all in need of rer’ jjr and that she was too poor to fix them. told'her that I would bring my own furniture that I was an author ana wanted ■ iamtet - She told me she could! not cook for W jrentleman. I told her I 'would, get my teeals' out; whereupon she slammed the floor in my tface. ’ Now I , want you to go •ad get insidte of this house. You [have a ...iw»y of getting what you want, and there toref a dozen, excuses 'you trump up. I hope you.don’t mind.” . ; “ Hot in the least; but it is probably a ioounterfeiter’s den, or something equally commonplace.” . . “Thave an idea-it isn’t; but the point is to find out the truth, commonplace or not, tend Treadway’s 'connection with it.” “Yery well. I may as well start now. tan .1 see Treadway- this morning'?’’ “.Yes, here is -the order.’ An hour later.-Sylvia entered Treadways hell in the City Prison. Sho had not had time to attend: the trial, and her large eyes, naturally keen, 1 but innocent for the occasion, examined Mmin detail as she took a jehair opposite him and apologised for her Intrusion. ’ , “ Oh, don’t mention it,” he said, with a curl of his lip, “I don’t mind) so long k’ou haven’t brought- a bouquet. Pm sick tef these here morbid females that writ till they think a man’s committed murder to fall in love with him.”

He had passionless grey eyes? a short nose and a compressed mouth. It -was not the conventional murderer’s face, nor was Ms head! flat on top and Mg between the ears; it was well shaped 1 without being striking. Nevertheless, Sylvia conceived an instant ■lmpression pf his guilt . His hands were narrow and. tliin, with heavy wrists, and he Jtept them clenched. His supposed victim had/ been throttled and packed away in the loWer drawer of a large bureau. She was-a little; milliner who had amassed, a respectable banking account: Treadway had pursued: her without success for a year. His alleged murder was attributed to revenge; but the prosecution was confessedly ■weak on this point. Nor had he anything (to gain by her death; her will.was,in fayour of a, sister, who could hot he found. •Moreovei’tiTread'yiaj. was a man of cool tern*, per,* so that the theory that he had murdered! her in a fit of passion was also in danger of falling to the ground. ' Nevertheless, She had been with her on the last evening ■that she had been seen alive, and the prosecution proved that she had' expressed fear iof him more than once. When asked why ’(die did not. forbid him. the. house, she had replied that he had an/influence over her, and that she was afraid he’d many her in the end. : . ■’ Sylvia, : meeting the cold steady regard iof his grey eyes, 'wondered if he were , a hypnotist. • . ■ ,■ “Well,” he said, “what can I do for yon? The ‘ Searcher ’'wants a confession, I suppose?” ; “ Oh, of course, we don’t expect that. We’re convinced of your innocence. You /can’t be convicted.; The evidence is . too flimsy:” “It is,” he replied, drily. “It ■ wouldn’t lewing a cat. I shall live to be a leading citizen,, and leave money to a hospital, with » bust of myself over the front door.” > “ You intend to be a rich man, then?” ■' His eyes-flashed for the first time. “Thatgirl would have been a good sfeppingistone,” he continued, coolly, “but as she’s 'gone I’ll find another. Murderers seem to .be popular with women. Judging from the flow«rs/and the notes and the visits I’ve had Bnoo lcame here,,so doubtless I’ll find,one, ■of ’em-ready;. tomaxry Wand.be thankful, il can easily persuade a female of that sort ;that I committed the crime and got off.” I “You certainly are cynical, Mr Treadfway, and as you understand human nature you’ll doubtless make a success of your life. Have you any theory who committed ' the {murder?”

!■ “I neither know nor care. Facts are I facts os far as I am concerned. I never ; bother my head ahojit reasons or causes. ! There’s too much else to think about.”

i Sylvia, having received her impression, .and Joiowiag that, he wp-uldnever commit himself, left after and' took a [cftr over to North Beach. The house the iCity Editor had indicated stood alone at the fend of the sand-lot, and within a street or {two of the water. The houses about it were 'pld, and some of them swarming, and there jwere several low shops. It was a poor quar|ter of the city, hut not lonely. The suspectled house had once been handsome, but had •toot been painted!,for many a year, and two jof its windows were broken.' She mounted the long flight of steps and rang a bell, which nearly came off in her hand>, and ■danged through the house with the discords ‘induced, by rusty sides and clapper. Sylvia [rang if three times before a woman opened (the door. ■ She was a comely young woman, with jblue eyes ’as. innocent as Sylvia’s own, and dressed in black, -with a certain smartness. [She opened the door» wide enough to reveal ■her person, and no more. Her expression Ifor a moment was rminviting, and she merely said “Well?” - Sylvia made no reply. She gradually drew her eyelid&kogether, and between them jthere grew an expression of deep and persistent meaning. It was gradually returned Iby one so similar that the two girls for the ■moment looked as curiously alike as man 'and wife -sometimes come to look after years of mental association. But still she, who |was evidently mistress of the premises, hesitated. ,1;'" - ■, i’■ 'y ; “Let me in,” whispei-edl Sylvia, scarcely Ifibove' her breatii. ;

j Tie other, girl wfthdreAV her eyes slowly ffrom Sylvia's face -and deliberately scanned jier gown. It was, : the richest in the young journalist’s wardrobe, and Sylvia spent a jgreat deal of money on her clothes. She (•lowly slipped her hand into her pocket, drew out a bulging purse, and handed it to (the'.other. “,You may as well take it first as (last,” she whispered, this time with an ugly cynical twist of her mouth. “ And I shall leonje often.”

j The girl opened the door at once and /admitted her, then closed and locked it.

! “ You are a beginner, I suppose?” she /■aid. “ How much cun you stand?” < “ More than you think, and I want to be [where there, are no questions asked.” I “This is the place, then,” said the^ other curtly. “There am’t so many here’ tins Week. I can let you have one of the large rooms.” •, Sylvia followed her silently up the stairs fntp a.conyfortahly furnished back bedroom. > “ Will yatl take it right now?” asked the ■

- “ Yes ; aud I guess lil stay a week. I’m supposed to have gone to Carson City on a visit. My trunk is at the station, but I’ve got all I'll need here in this hand bag.” The girl left the room’, and Sylvia sniffed sat down, and impatiently awaited her return. “ I’m nearly sure now,” she thought “If it’s anything else I’ll sell mvself for ten cents.” The girl re-entered, hearing a small tray containing an opium outfit, and laid it on the table, Sylvia raised the pipe and caressed it lovingly, » Tliere -s nothing like it in all this world* ” she said slowly, “ nothing—particularly to me.” Then she added impulsively. “I’m a poet, and) this has inspired me to grand things. I simply can’t write a line--without it. But I came too near being found out no less than four- times, although I write in the garret. So I thought I’d try you. A whole week! I’ll write another ‘ Kubla Kalm.’ ” “Oh !” exclaimed the girl. “ Well, you’re the first I’ve known to put it to any use. Generally they just come and soak themselves. We-only lake in swells, and it’s a vice and nothing more with them.” “It’s Shocking what a habit it has become.” “ Oh, there aren’t so many of them, but they come regular, and we charge high. What you gave me—a hundred dollars—wasn’t more than enough for a week.” “I knew that was about it, although I don’t mind paying more.” -Sylvia had seen the pipe used many times in China Town, and she began to prepare tbe opium. But suddenly &he pushed it aside. “ Somehow, I don’t feel like it just now. In fact, I always like to think about it awhile first. Anticipation is almost half. Sit down and talk to me, and i’ll,keep one eye on it. Don’t you ever smoke?” h The girl sat down, and Shook Her head. “ I don’t, for I’ve got to keep my wits about me. My brother, who runs this place with me, is no better than any old soak in China Town. If there wasn’t so much money in it I’d have cut long ago, and gone to live with my poor sister, who was a milliner, and wanted to teach me. She used to lecture me terrible whenever she got hold of’ me, but I always -said that I’d have made enough .by the time I was thirty to ride in my own carriage, and be an honest woman.” But she drew a heavy sigh. * Sylvia moved her innocent wide-open eyes from their loving contemplation 'of the opium pipe, and fixed them on her hostess. “ But making hats is -safer,” she said, and as she spoke a look of -alarm grew in her eyes and she gave a faint gasp. “ You might be raided any minute,” she whispered. “ I hope to heaven it won’t be this week.”

The girl laughed. “ They’re solid with the cops. Don’t you worry.” Sylvia drew a long breath of relief. “ Well, then, I don’t blame you for preferring to get rich in a hurry. Making hats must be. mighty slow work. Still, the way they charge in this town-—well !”■ “ My sister got good prices, and was rising fast. Sometimes I wish-—” “Has she gone back on you?”

The girl pointed solemnly to her black frock, then dabbed at her eyes with a deeplybordered pocket handkerchief. Sylvia, whose heart had beaten uncertainly for. some moments, almost: lost her breath, but not a muscle of her face twitched. She was young, but she was a finished product of American journalism. She put out her band and patted that of the girl, who was little over her own age and who, like her, was earning her'bread by her wits.

“lam so sorry,” she said. “ Was she your only sister-?” “ My only living relative but my brother '—whom I hate. But that isn’t the'worst.” She hesitated for a full moment, then moved her chair ..close to Sylvia’s. “ I don’t ■mind telling you,” she said, “although I don’t dare go to court and own it, for fear they’d find this out. But I never have a living soul to speak to. My sister was that milliiier that was murdered in Ellis Street on the fourteenth of last month.” “ Good heavensl And do you believe that man did it?” ■' , / The. girl flushed- deeply.' “ No—no—l don’t. He’s—-he’s really my beau. He wanted to marry my sister at first, but once she sent him here on a message to me, and after that he didn’t care any more for her. She never was in love with him, and they kept on being friends.” - “ Wasn’t she jealous of you?” “We never told her.' This last year I scarcely saw her, arid I’ve only known him a few months.” ■ “ Well, I wonder you didn’t marry him at once and get out of this.” ~ “He hasn’t got any money. It was arranged that we were to wait till he got a real good position, and I had saved enough but of this business. Sometimes one of the ladies gets into a funk when she’s going, and gives me an extra fifty to keep my mouth shut. The Lord knows I’d never open it. I only wish 1 dared claim the money my sister left me and get out of the country with him. Of course, he’ll get off.” ‘“ Of course he will. There’s positively no evidence against him. Well, I wish I could help you. I’ll turn it over in my mind. Guess I’ll take a pipe now. I’ll only take one so as not to spoil my appetite for dinner.”

The girl took the hint and left the room. Sylvia gave vent to her repressed excitement and paced up and down the room. “I do believe I’m the luckiest girl in American journalism,” she thought. And then she added piously; “May°the Lord place all those fibs to the account of the 1 San Francisco Searcher.’ But a truthful journalist would either be a genius or a failure.” She snapped her fingers, dismissing that phase of the question. “ How is this to work out?” she thought. “How am I going to work it out? If I’m convinced that girl’s innocent she’s got to be taken care of first. She’ll be dreadfully in the Way. I almost hope that, like me, she’s not so innocent as she looks.’' At six o’clock she filled the bowl of the pipe and burnt the opium, whose odour rapidly impregnated the room. “I could only smoke one pipe,” she said as the girl entered with the dinner tray, “I’ve been thinking so hard about you. I want to help you out of your tight place—and this bole into the bargain.” The girl, who • looked hot and frowsy, gave her a grateful glance. “ Well, I just wish you would. Perhaps, as you’re clever, you’ll think of something. I’ve got four more dinners to cook—though they eat precious little—so I must go now. And there’s six gentlemen coming tb-night for a bout. But I can come back again by eleven or twelve.”’ “Do. But do you mean to say those men will come in by the front door?” “ Oh, no; they come across the sand-lot at the back, and I let them in by the kitchen door. I wonder whoever told you about this place, didn’t tell you not to come to the front door.” “She did, but I clean forgot it.”

At ten o’clock Sylvia ventured out into the dark hall, and hung over the bannisters. Tho doors of a large brilliantly lighted, heavily curtained room were open, and two men already lay on tbs soft couch which was built about every side of it. They were in evening clothes, and were toying with the pipes, which lay on low tables beside them. It was evident that they were waiting for the others. . Their four companions’ entered one by one, and threw themselves on the couch. They were of varying ages, and all in evening clothes. Sylvia recognised two ol them and puckered her mouth. The girl entered the room, and struck a match for each in turn, then came out and dosed the door. Sylvia retired hastily to her room, but when tho girl entered she confessed impulsively that sfio had been watching. “ I couldn’t help it,” she exclaimed. “It was too fascinating.” The girl shrugged her shoulders. “It wouldn’t interest you much if you was me,” she said. “But I, like them well enough, fur they treat me well, and pay up like gentlemen. I’ve got so sharp, now that 1 know a cad the minute I see him ; and I charge him double, for I know he’ll Jew me down. Some of those down there are real respectable family men, but they say they must have a spree occasionally or bust. Have you been writing; any poetry?”

“ No. I’ve dona nothing but think about you.” “ You’re really good.” “Do you know, I’ve come to a terrible conclusion. I believe that man murdered your ; sister so that you would get the money.” The girl turned deathly pale. She beat her hands against the’ air, but was apparently unable to articulate. “Of- course, I don’t know him- as you do, and I may be mistaken; but he has made a very unfavourable impression on everybody, and all that is wanted is the motive to convince the jury. If I were you I’d come out and make a clean breast of it. If he’s innocent no harm will be done, and if- he is guilty, he ought to swing, and you will be well rid of ham.”

The girl had crouched down in her chair and covered her face with her hands. She shook her head. “ I can’t,” she said, in a moment. “ I just worship him, and even if T -didn’t I couldn’t own up to this. I’ve always been ashamed of it.” “ How much money have you saved?” “ A couple of thousand dollars.” “And you inherit eight from your sister. You could go to another city—in the east—change your name and begin life over again. Hero you are liable to be found out and thrown into -prison any day. You’d be much wiser to -take the bull by the horns. And I’ll help you in every way I can. I could pull a lot of wires.” “ You’re awful good, but I can’t- peach on him. They’d convict him, sure’s fate, lor-1 can see the conclusion they’d jump at if it got out that I knew him, and, of course it would. They’d ask me when I wa son the witness stand, and they’d worm' it out of me. I think I’d be too scared -to lie there.” , Sylvia meditated. The idea of betraying the giri horrified her; moreover, she had no desire to expose a half-dozen family skeletons. But fail she-would not.

The girl suddenly raised her head and fixed her swollen eyes o-n-JSylvia’s. “You won’t peadh, will you?” she growled. “If I thought you would you’d never get out of this house alive; I’d take'’my chances.” Sylvia replied calmly:" “What earthly interest would I have in peaching? And do you suppose I’d disgrace, myself by admitting that I was an opium fiend? I belong to one of the very -swellest families in San Francisco. Good: Lord!”

“Well, I didn’t think you would; but if you’re clever enough to write poetry perhaps you’ll find me another- wav cut. ■ And I’d advise you to give up. this while you can. Some of those womeniuve'got to look terrible, and they come -oftener and oftener.”

“I’ll give it up. the moment I write my great poem. I promise you that.”

“Well, I must go, and look after my gentlemen. Good night.” At the door she turned. “ Don’t think that any more,” she said!; and although her voice was imploring, there was, unconsciously perhaps, a warning note in it. Sylvia undressed and went to bed. There wa,s no key to her door, and she reflected tbit her life was possibly in danger. If the truth should dawn into the girl’s mind she would undoubtedly kill her, if she had courage enough. “ However, ’ she thought, “ she’ll probably wait a day or two to make sure, know-: ing.l .can’t get put,” and she fell asleep. Awakening in the small hours she became aware that someone was in the room, and struck a match at once. The girl, who 'had changed her frock for a loose wrapper, was sitting in the armchair. “ Well!” exclaimed Sylvia, and she forced herself to smile.

The girl smiled back with equal candour. “I couldn’t sleep, and I thought I'd like to be near you. Do you mind?” “ Not in the least. I’m* sorry there isn’t a sofa. But I can’t keep awake. That opium ” But she slept no more that night. At daybreak the girl left the room. Sylvia rose and dressed at once. “I’ve got pretty good nerves,” she thought, “but I couldn’t stand another night in this house. That silent girl in that chair in the dark—ugh! ” When the girl brought up the breakfast Sylvia said, “ It was.-so good of yon to come here last’night. I -was a: little frightened, as there is no key in the door: Couldn’t you move in a cot and sleep Here?” . “ Well, I might. You don’t look a bit as if you’d been smoking opium.” , “ Heaven knows what I’d look like by now if I hadn’t had you to talk, to and think about yesterday. Do you think I could give it up?” “ I’d break off right now.” But my poem— — ” “ Your soul’s of iriore consequence than' poetry.” She wheeled about suddenly. “I suspected you last night,” she exclaimed, “and lam sorry. I don’t know what put such an idea into my head, but the daylight’s put it out. I know you’d never peach.”

Sylvia groaned in spirit, but she answered promptly, “ I wouldn’t do am- harm to you for the world. I give you my word of honour that I’ve only spoken for your own good.” “!'

The girl sat down suddenly and placed her elbow on the table, moving her uplifted fingers nervously. “It’s Just this,” she said, “and I ought to have thought of it before; but I took to you, and it was a God-send to speak to someone. Sometimes I feel as, if I was dumb. But. it’s just this. Some day, when you’re in a frenzy after taking too much opium, you may blurt the whole thing out.” “It will be a long time before I take enough opium to get into frenzies. The trial will be concluded this week, and if Mr Treadway is acquitted, as he is sure to be, all the evidence in the world couldn’t put him on trial again. Whatever people thought, he’d be as secure as any innocent man the moment the Court had "discharged him.” , “Yes—l forgot—l’ve read 1 that in the papers. There’s a good many murderers wandering round loose. Well, I’ll just keep, you here till-the, thing’s settled one way or another.” “ Oh, I wouldn’t leave before my week’s out for the world.” “I guess I’ll have to keep you longer if the trial hangs on. I didn’t oughter speak out, as I did. And I couldn’t believe you even if you promised never to touch opium again. They’re always promising that.” “But if I stay too long there’ll be a hue and cry after me. And if I’m traced here I’ll he ruined—and you too.” . “You could sav that j r ou came here to be quiet and -write poetry. Poets are always a little cracked, I’ve heard.” “ That’s not a bad idea, and perhaps the longer I stay the more chance I’ll have to talk you over. I want to get out of this. Tell me one thing—if you were convinced that that man murdered your only sister wouldn’t you be willing to see him hanged ?” “ No !” she said stubbornly, and left the room.

Sylvia heard the key turn in the lock, and set her teeth. Nevertheless she finished her breakfast;. Ten minutes later the girl entered with a morning newspaper in her hand. .. ..

“The trial’s postponed for two weeks,” she announced. “ I’m awfully sorry, but you’ll have to stay here.” “ Well, do give me the ran of the house. I can’t poke in one room for a fortnight.” “All right. I’ll lock all the doors. I couldn’t stay in one room myself.” “That- is , the City Editor’s doing,” thought Sylvia. “ He’s got that trial postponed to give me time. 1 wonder if he’ll have this house raided if I don’t turn up ? I never told him I’d sleep here, and he may think I’m just.prowling round.” The girl had not locked her door again, and Sylvia left her room and opened each of the other doors in the upper corridor. A woman lay on every bed, and the opium fumes that rushed out of each room were sickening. The curtains were drawn, and the only light in the several rooms was given out by tapers burning in cups of oil. Sylvia could not distinguish the. features of the women, nor did sho wish to. ' The halls were ventilated from an open skylight. She went down to the parlour. The gentlemen had gone—carried home in tho small hours by their servants or friend .9, the girl had informed her, and would not return until next Saturday night. To-day was Sunday. There was small chance of the City Editor giving her a thought till to-morrow. She , suddenly remembered; that she had noticed .before entering the, houre that one or two of tile ■window paries were broken, and went at once to the narlour windows.

But they were covered with felt, fastened down with closely-set nails. Then she remembered that it was an upper window whose pane had been broken. She returned to her room at once and wrote on a slip of the “ copy ” paper in her bag “ If you don’t hear from me by Man-day noon come to my rescue in North Beach House, but don’t bring any policemen.” She addressed, the’ note to the City Editor, advised the “ bearer” that he would receive five dollars upon delivery, and waited as patiently as she could for night.

It was a very long -day, although she had several conversations with her hostess, and used all her powers -of argument to shake the infatuated girl’s resolution. At six o’clock, when the girl was safe in the kitchen, she opened the door of the front bedroom, entered, and went softly to the .bed. A woman raised a dishevelled head and bloated face from the pillow, stared at- her unseeingly, and then mechanically filled her pipe.- Sylvia went to the window, and feltwith her hand for the cold spot, then jerked the felt from its fastening and flung out the note tied round a lead pencil. She heard its faint impact with the side-walk, drew the curtain across the displaced felt, and returned to her room. The girl entered shortly after and placed the dinner on the table. She stood silent for a moment, then flung herself into a chair, and threw her arms above her head. “What is it?” asked Sylvia, sympathetically. “ Don’t you think you had) better leave this house with me to-night? You can come to mine, and I’ll look after you.” But the girl had burst into a fit of weeping, and made no reply. ‘‘l know what it is,” said Sylvia, after a time. “You’ve been thinking it over, and have come to the conclusion that he did it.’

The girl did not answer for some moments. Finally she lifted her head. “ That’s it,” she said, “ and I’ll go mad unless I hear that he didn’t from his own lips. I’d go to see him to-night, for one of the gentlemen that comes here would manage it for me, if you’d give me your word of honour that yon wouldn’t leave this house till I came bade. You haven’t taken much to-day, so I could trust you, and I’d lock the opium up.” Sylvia hesitated a moment. Then she said: “ Very tvell, I promise on my word of honour that I will stay here. you come up and see me when you return?” “ Yes, I’ll' tell you what he says. And I’ll go this minute.” , Sylvia heard her run downstairs. She went at once to the front bedroom and peered out. The street lamp was directly in front of the house. Her note was gone. Shortly after she heard the front door close, and aat down with what patience she could muster. As she was a “ beginner ” she was not restricted to a taper, and she lit both gas jets. It was a foggy night, and the great syren on the “FaraUones” was groaning. Once she heard a strange sound in the lower hall and peered over the bannisters. A creature with long hair and a ragged dressing-gown was prowling rou'nd talking to himself. Sylvia guessed it to be the brother, and- retired hastily to her room, dragging a heavy piece of furniture before the door. It was about midnight that the bell clanged. It made a hideous clatter in that silent house. Sylvia shoved the furniture aside and ran downstairs, glancing about fearfully for the brother. But. he was nowhere to be seen. She tried to open, the front door, but it was locked and the key was gone. Beside the door .was a line of narrow panes of glass stained a dark opaque red. Sylvia fetched an umbrella from the hatstand and crashed the handle through one of the panes. • The next moment she and the City Editor were facing each other. “ Well!” they exclaimed simultaneously. “ I think I can let you in by the kitchen door,” said Sylvia-, “but you’ll have to stay here for a time, for I’ve promised to remain till the girl comes back. She went to see Treadway.” “-She won’t return,” said the City Editor, grimly. “ She committed, suicide outside : his cell three-quarters- of ah, hour ago,”