THE FILIGREE BALL.

Golden Bay Argus, Volume XIII, Issue 51, 19 May 1910, Page 2

THE FILIGREE BALL.

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f it was iateu.v:tled nov as tay $/• fan ofar tW clumsy earring which added to the discomfort of iU high •Uaight back and on 1 stosit ih* ■mell of its moldy and possibly mouse-haunted cushions. A crawling

,HiiSj of dread took the place of my Mfthit instinctive repugnance; not boanuse superstition had oh ye* laid its grip upon me, Although tja* place, the hour and the near &ad heritable presence of were j enough to rouse Uuj imagination past * the hounds of the ivtua.l. but because of a discovery I had ma.de —a discovery which emphasized the tradition that all who had been found dead under the mantel had fallen as if from the end of this monstrous and patriarchal ttcaah. Do you ask wl*4t this disicovery was? It can bn told in a Iword. This one end and or.ly tide end had been ine.de comfortable ics ( tho sitter. For • space scarcely jvide enough for cue, the seat and jfeaek at this special poiot had been luphoisteiatj w>ib leather, fastened to Uiue wood with h*a'. y wrought nails. fiPbe reuioin**ipcrl'iwo, streithed out

|barc, hard au'd iaaxpreaaibly forbidtfling to ono who sought ease there, j or ovt«n a momwat of casual rest. The ! natural inference was that the owner oJ thds quaint piece of furniture had been a very salfien man Wo* WfaMOgbt only of hiu own comforh (that might lit «et have had some wther reouan lor hie tops roni silgAs i a*ked myself tide fjueation and noted how the long and embracing arm wldcb guarded IhU tiial.luaurt retreat *«s flattened on iop for the convenient holding of decanter and glees, lutings to which ] can £lv.e no name om- which I had goodly believed mywdf proof againet. 3beg*ca to take the piece of juojjuetu end reason. B*foi* I r**t«**d tile nature of iof own impale* or to V/hat it was arivtng me. i found myself moving slowly and steadily toKtrd *ha formidable seat, trader an desire to Ilia# mys<*f (lowa upon these old cuthlors and — ! But here the, creaking oi tome far* off fchuttei'--posaibly the oat I had '-teen swaying from t.ha opposite sicU of the RtrceSi--recalled me to the dutiew of the hour, and, remembering that my investigations were but half completed <rad that I might be Interrupted any mcmeat by detectives from headquarters, 1 broke front the accursed charm, which horrified ino the inonuwi 1 eaaapod it, gad quitting the roan* by ft door at the farther end, sought to fled in some of the adjacent roonue the d*fi,»iU traces I had failed to discover an this, the actual scene of the •• , ' ’ " it WHO % dismal search, revealing at every turn the almost maddened haste with which the house ,had been abandoned. The dining-room especially roused the feelings which were far from pleasaat. 'Hm table, evidently set for the wedding breakfast, had been denuded in such breathless hurry that the food had been tossed #r«« the dishes and now lay* in Bi«M«fii*g heaps on the Horn*. The waddiag cake, which lomo on* had drapped, 1 possibly in the effort to save It, bad been stop pad o«; and bmken gla&3, crumpled napary and .withaiwi flowers made all tho corners ‘/Unsightly and rendered stAppiag over the uawbolesonsa flours at once di«grsting and. daugarous The pantries opening out *f this room were in no better 'vuu*. Shrinking f»om the sights and smells I found there, i ptusswl out into the hitcher, and eo on by a clotf* and narrow passage to the negro quarters clustered ia the rear.

Her« I made » discovery. One o i the window!) 'in this long disused portion of tho bouse wa/; not only unlocked but partly oper.. But as I >•-*;nf upon no marks showing that this outlet had been used by the escaping murderer, I made my way back to the front of the house and thus to the stairs communicating with the upper floor. It was on the rug lying at the foot of these stairs that I came upon the first of a dozen or more burned' matches which lay in a distinct j trail up the staircase and along the floors of the upper halls. As these matches wore all burned as short as fingers could hold them, it was evident that they had been used to light the steps of some one seeking, refuge above, possibly in the very room where we had. seen the light which had first drawn us to this house. How then? Should I proceed oj£ await tho coming of the •"boys'’ before pushing in upon a possible murderer? I decided to proceed, fascinated, I -think, by the nicety of the trail which lay before me. . But when, after a careful following In the steps of him who had so lately preceded me, I came upon a tightly closed door at the end of, a side passage, I own that I stopped a moment before lifting hand to-it. So much may lie behind a tightly closed door! But my hesitation, if hesitation it was, lasted but a moment. My natural impatience and the promptings of my vanity overcame the dictates of my judgment, and, reckless of consequences, perhaps disdainful of them, I soon had the knob 'in my grasp. I gave a slight push ko the door and, on seeing a crack £>f light leap into life along the kamb, pushed the door w.ider and fwider till the whole room stood repealed. 'v* ® The instantaneous banging of a ‘•Shutter in one of its windows proved the to be the very one wtvhich we had "seen lighted from beA]qw. Otherwise all was still; nor was I able to detect, in my first hurried glance, a-ny 1 other token of human presence than a candle sputtering in its own greasy, at the bottom of a tumbler- placed' on one corner of an old-fashioned; -dressing table. This, jthe one toiich of incongruity in a room otherwise rich if not stately in its appointments, was loud m its suggestion of some hidden presence given to expedients and reckless of but of this presence nothing was to be seen. Not satisfied with this short surXey ( —g survey, which had. given pae

Impnahot •< a spacious oldfashioned chamber, fully furnished but breathing of tho by-gone rather tbaa of . the present-— and resolved to know, »r, rather, to dare the worst and be done with it, I strode straight Into the center of the room and cast about me quickly a comprehensive glance which spared nothing, not even the shadows Lurking in the corners. But no low-lying figur* started up from these corners, sier did any crouching head rise into sight from beyond tho leaves of the big screen behind which I was careful ic look.

Greatly reassured, and indeed quite 'convinced that wherever lhe criminal lurked at that moment he was not in the same room with me. I turned my attention to my surroundings, which had many points of interest. Foremost among these was the big fourposter which occupied a large space at my right. I had never seen its like in use before, and I was greatly attracted by its size and tho air of uiyatory imparted to it by its closely drawn curtains of faded brocade. In fact, this bed, whether from its appearance or some occult influence inherent in it, had a fascination for mo. I hesitated to approach it, yet could not forbear surveying it long And earnestly. Could, it be possible that those curtains concealed some j one In hiding behind them? Strange to say I'did not feel quite ready to lay hand on them and see. ■ A dressing table laden with woman’s fixings and various articles of the toilet, all of an unexpected value and richness, occupied the space between the two windows; and on the floor, immediately in front of a , high mahogany anantel, tli&re lay, amid a number of empty boxos t an . overturned chair. This chair and . the conjectures its position awakea- | ed led mo to look up at the mantel ( with which it seemed to be in some , way connected, and thus I became i a ware of a wan old drawing hanging | o fl the wall above it. Why this pictur* which was a totally uninteresting scotch of a simp«ri«g girl face, shottid h*v* held my ey* after the firs* glance, 1 can not w»y even now. Jt toad no beauty even of the sentimental kind and very lilxlii, if any, meaning. Its lines, weak at the bo*t, were nearly obliterated and in aoiiie places quite faded out. Yet I n_jt oniy paused to Uk*lc at it, but in locking at It forgot mynoif and wellnigh ray errand. Yet tksro was no apparent reason lor ths spoil it exerted over me, nor could J account 4n any way fur th* realSy superstitious dread which h'om this moment r-elzed me, making my head move einwlv round with sta'inking backward looks as that swaying shutter ereaked or some of the fitful noises, which grow out of silence in answer to our inner expectancy, drew my attention or appalled my sense.

To all appearance there was less here than below to affect a man’s courage. No inanimate body with the mark of the slayer upon it lent horror to these.walls; yet sensations which I had easily overcome in the library 'below clung with strange insistence to me here, making it an effort for me to move, and giving to the unexpected reflection of my own imago in the mirror I chanced to pass, a ** power to shock my nerv-es which has never been repeated in my experience. It may seem both unnecessary and out of character for a man of my calling to acknowledge these chance Benaations, but only by doing so can I account for tho minutes which elapsed before I summoned sufficient self-possession to draw aside the closed curtains of the bed and take 'the quick look inside which my preaent doubtful position demanded. But once I had broken the spell and taken tho look just mentioned, _ I found my manhood return and with it my old ardor for clues. The bed held no gaping, chattering criminal; yet was it not quite empty. Something lay there, and this something, while commonplace in itself, was enough out of keeping with the place and hour to rouse my interest and awaken my conjectures. It was a lady’s wrap so rich in quality and ot such a festive appearanco that it was astonishing to find it lying in a neglected state in this crumbling old house. Though I know little of tho cost of women’s garments, I do know the value of lace, and this garment was covered with it.

Interesting as was this find, it was followed by one still more so. Nestled in tho folds of tho cloak, lay tho withered remains of what could only have been tho bridal bouquet. Unsightly now and scentless, it was once a beautiful specimen of the florist’s art. As I noted how the main bunch of roses and lilies was connected by long satin ribbons to | the lesser clusters which hung from it, I recalled with conceivable horror, the use to which a' similar ribbon, had been put in the room below. In the shudder called up by this coincidence I forgot to speculate how a bouquet carried by the bride could hifve found its way back to this upstairs room when, as all accounts agree, she had fled from tho parlor below without speaking or staying foot tho moment she Was told of the catastrophe which had taken place in the library. That her wrap should be lying here was not strange, but that the wedding bouquel> That it really was the wedding bouquet and that this was the room in which the bride had dressed for the ceremony was apparent to the most casual observer. But it became an established fact when in my further course about the room I chanced on a handkerchief with the name Veronloa ! embroidered in one corner.

This handkerchief had an interest apart from the name on it. It was of dainty texture and quite in keeping, so far as value went, with the other belongings of its fastidious owner. But it was not clean. Indeed it was strangely soiled, and this soil was of a nature I did not readily understand. A woman would doubtless have comprehended immediately the cause of the brown steaks I found on it,, but it took me several minutes to realize that this bit of cambric, delicate as a cobweo, had been used to remove dust.< To remove dust! Dust from what? From the mantel-shelf probably, upon one end.of which I found it. But no! one look along the polished boards convinced me that whatever else had been dusted in this 'room this shell had not. The accumulation of days, if not of months, was visible from one end to the other of its unrelieved surface save where the handkerchief had lain, and—the greatest discovery yet where five clear spots just to the left of the center, showed

where' some man’s finger-tips had rosted. Nothing but the pressure of finger-tips could have caused just the appearance presented by these spots. By scrutinizing them closely I could even tell where the thumb had rested, and at once foresaw the possibility of determining by means of these marks both the size and shape of the hand which had left behind it so neat and unmistakable a clue. Wonderful! but what did it all mean? Why should a man rest his finger-tijjs on this out-of-the-way ehelf? Had he done so in an effort to balance himself for a look up the chimney? No; for then the mark’s made by his fingers would have extended to the edge of the shelf, whereas these were in tho middle of it. Their shape, too, was round, not oblong; hence, the pressure had come from above and —ah! I had it, these impressions in the dust of the shelf were just such as would be made by a person steadying himself for a close look at the old picture. And this accounted also for the overturned chair, and for the handkerchief used as a duster. Some one’s interest in this picture had been greater than mine; some one who was either very near-sighted or whose temperament was such that only the closest inspection would satisfy an aroused curiosity.

This gave me an idea, or rather impressed upon me the necessity of preserving the outline of these telltale marks while they were still plain to the eye. Taking out my ponknife, I lightly ran the point of my sharpest blade around each separate impression till I had fixed them for all time in tho well worn varnish of the mahogany.

This done, my thoughts recovered to the question already raised. What was there in this old picture to arouse such curiosity in one bent on evil if not fresh from a hideous crime? I have said before that the picture as a picture was worthless, a mere faded sketch fit only for lumbering up some old garret. Then wherein lay its charm, —a charm which I myself had felt, though not to this extent? It was useless to conjecture. A; fresh difficulty had been added to my task by this puzzling discovery, but difficulties only increased my interest. It was with and odd feeling of elation that, in a further examination of this room, I came upon two additional facts equally odd and irreconcilable.

One was the presence of a penknife with the file blade open, on a small table under the window marked by the loosened shutter. Scattered about it were some filings which shone as the light from my lantern fell upon them, but which were so fine as to call for a .magnifying-glass to make them out. The other was in connection with a closet not far from the great bed. It was an empty closet so far as the hooks went and the two great drawers which I found standing half open at its back; but in the middle of the floor lay an overturned candelabrum similar to the one below, but with its prisms scattered and its one candle crushed and battered out of all shape on the. blackened boards. If upset while alight, tho foot which had stamped upon it in a wild endeavor to put out the flames had been a. frenzied, one. Now, by whom had this frenzy been shown, and when? Within the hour? I could detect no smell of smoke. At some former time, then? say on the day of the bridal? Glancing from the broken candle at my feet to the one giving its last sputter in the tumbler on tho dressing table, I owned myself perplexed. Surely, no ordinary explanation fitted these extraordinary and seemingly contradictory circumstances.

CHAPTER IV.; I am in some ways hypersensitive. Among my other weaknesses I have a wholesome dread of ridicule, and this is probably why I failed to press my theory on the captain when he appeared, and even forbore to mention the various small matters which had so attracted my attention. If he and the experienced men who came with him saw suicide and nothing but suicide in this lamentable shooting of a bride of two weeks, then it was not for me to suggest a deeper crime, especially as one of the latter eyed me with open scorn when I proposed to accompany thorn upstairs into the room where the light had been seen burning. No, I would keep my discoveries to myself, or, at least, forbear to mention them till I found the captain alone, asking nothing at this juncture but permission to remain in the house till Mr. Jeffrey arrived. I had been told that an officer had gone for this gentleman, and when 1 heard the sound of wheels in front I made,a rush for the door, in my anxiety to catch a glimpse of him. But it was a woman who alighted. As this woman was in a state of great agitation, one of the men hastened down to offer his arm. As she took it, I asked Hibbard, who had suddenly reappeared upon the scene, who she was. He said that she was probably the sister of the woman who lay inside. Upon which I remembered that this lady, under the name of Miss Tuttle—she was but half-sister to Miss Moore—had been repeatedly mentioned by the reporters, in the accounts of the wedding before men-1 tioned as a person of superior attainments and magnificent beauty. This did not take from my interest, and flinging decorum to the ■ winds, I approached as near as pos- 1 siblo to the threshold which she must, soon cross. As I did so I was astonished to hear the strains of Uncle David's organ still pealing from the opposite side of the way. This at a moment so serious and while matters of apparent 'consequence were taking place in the house to which he had himself directed the attention of the police struck me as carrying stoic-, ism to the extreme. Not very favorably impressed by this display of open if not insulting indifference on the part of the sole remaining Moore —an indifference which did not appear quite natural even in a man of his morbid eccentricity I resolved to know more pf this old man and, above all, to make myself fully acquainted with the exact relations which had existed between him and his unhappy niece. . . Meanwhile Miss Tuttle had stepped within the circle of light cast by our lanterns. • I have never seen a finer woman, i nor one whose features displayed a ! more heartrending emotion. This ; called for respect, and I, for one, endeavored to show it by withdraw- . ing into the background. But 3 [ soon stepiiQc} forward again,.. My jto,

sire to understand her was tos. great, the impression made by her bearing too complex, to be passed over lightly by one on the lookout for a key to the remarkable tragedy before us. Meanwhile her lips had opened with the cry: “My sister! Where is my sister?” > , . , The captain made a hurried movement toward the rear and then with the laudable intention, doubtless, ol preparing her for the ghastly sight which awaited her, returned and opened a way for her into the'draw-ing-room. But she was not to be turned aside from her course. Passing him by, she made directly for the library which she entered with a bound. Struck by-her daring, we all crowded up behind her, and curious brutes that we were, grouped ourselves in a semicircle about the doorway as she faltered towaid her sister’s outstretched form and fell on her knees beside it. Her involuntary shriek and the fierce recoil she made as her eyes fell on the Ion" white ribbon trailing over the floor from her sister’s wrist, struct me as voicing the utmost horror ol which the human soul is capable. It was as though her very soul was pierced. Something in the fact itself, something in the appearanco of t.liis snowy ribbon tied to the scaice whiter wrist, seemed to pluck at the very root of her being; and when her glance, in traveling its length, lighted on the death-dealing weapon at its end, she cringed in sucli appaient anguish that we looked to see her fall in a swoon or break out into delirium. We were correspondingly startled when she suddenly burst forth with this word of stern command: “Untie that knot! Why do yor leave that dreadful thing fast to her? Untie it, I say, it is killing me; I can not bear the sight.” And from trembling she passed to shuddering till her whole body shook convulsively.

The captain, with much consideration, drew back the hand he had impulsively stretched toward the libbon.

“No, no,” he protested; “we can not do that; we can do nothing till the coroner comes. It is necessary that lie should see her just as she was found. Besides, Mr. Jeffrey has a right to the same privilege. We expect him any moment.”

The beautiful head of the woman before us shook involuntarily, but her lips made no protest. I doubt if she possessed the power of speech at that moment. A change, subtile, but quite perceptible, had taken place in her emotions at mention of her sister’s husband, and, though she exerted herself to remain calm, the effort seemed too much for her strength. Anxious to hide this evidence of weakness, she rose impetuously; and then we saw how tall she was, how the long lines of her cloak became her, and what, a glorious creature she was altogether. “It will kill him,” she groaned in a deep inward voice. Then, with a certain forced haste and in a tone of surprise w'hich to my ear had not auite fi natural ring, she called aloud on her who could no longer, either listen or answer: “Oh, Veronica, Veronica! What pause had youflKr" death? And why do we And you lying here in a spot you so feared and detested?” ‘‘Don’t you know?” insinuated the captain, with a mild persuasiveness, such as he was seldom heard to use. “Do you mean that you can not account for your sister’s violent end, you, who have lived with her—or so I have been told—eyer since her marriage with Mr. Jeffrey?” “Yes.”

Keen and clear the word rang out, fierce in its keenness and almost too • clear to be in keeping with the halfchoked tones with which she added: “I know that she was not happy, that she never had been happy since the shadow which this room suggests fell upon her marriage. But how could I so much as dreani that her dread of the past or her fear of the future would drive her to suicide, and in this place of all places! Had 1 done so—had I imagined in the least degree that she was affected to this extent —do you think that I would have left her for one instant alone? Mono of us knew that she contemplated death. She had no appearance of it; she laughed when I— ’’ What had she been about to say? The captain seemed to wonder, and after waiting In vain for the completion of her sentence, he quietly suggested: “You have not finished what you had to say. Miss Tuttle.’’ She started and see'med to come from some remote region of thought into which she had wandered. “I don’t know—l forget,” she stammered, with a heart-broken sigh. “Poor Veronica! Wretched Veronica! How shall I ever tell him! How, how, can we over prepare him!”

The captain took advantage of this reference to Mr. Jeffrey to ask where that gentleman was. The young lady did not seem eager to reply, but when pressed, answered, though somewhat mechanically, that it was impossible for her to say; Mr, Jeffrey had many friends with any one of whom he might bo enjoying a social evening. “But it is far past midnight now,” remarked the captain. Is he in tho habit of remaining out late?” “Sometimes,” she faintly admitted. “Two or three times since his marriage he has been out till one.. Were there other causes foV the young bride’s evident disappointment and misery besides the one intimated? There certainly was some excuse for thinking so. Possibly some one of us may have shown his doubts in this regard, fpr the woman before us suddenly broke forth with this vehement Assertion :

“Mr Jeffrey was a loving husband to my sister. A very loving husband,” she emphasized. Then, growing desperately pale, she added, “I have never known a better man,” and stopped. Some hidden anguish in this cry, some self-consciousness in this pause, suggested to me a possibility which I was glad to see ignored by the captain in his next question. “When did you see your sister last?” he asked. “Were you at home when she left her husband’s house?”

“Alas!” she murmured. Then seeing that a more direct answer was expected of her; she added with as little appearance of effort as possible: “I was at home and heard her go out. But I had no idea that it was for any purpose other than to join some social gathering." "Dressed this way?”

The captain pointed to the floor and her eyes followed. Certainly Mrs. Jeffrey, wae nftt jed.. aa

evening company. As Miss Tuttle realized the trap into which she had been betrayed, her words rushed forth and tripped each other up. “I did not notice. She often wore black —it became her. My sister was eccentric. ”

Worse, worse than useless. Some slips can not be explained away. Miss Tuttle seemed to realize that this was one of them, for she paused abruptly, with the words half finished on her tongue. Yet her attitude commanded respect, and I for one was ready to accord it to her. 'Certainly such a woman was not to be seen every day, and if her replies lacked candor, there was a nobility in her presence which gave the lie to any doubt. At least, that was the effect she produced on me. Whether or not her interrogator shared my feeling 1 could not so readily determine, for his attention as well as mine was suddenly diverted by the cry which now escaped her lips.

“Her watch! Where is her watch? It is gone! I saw it on her breast and it’s gone. It hung just—just where —’’ “Wait!” cried one of the men who had been peering about the floor. “Is this it?” J-Ie held aloft' a small object blazing with Jewels. ‘‘Yes,’’ she gasped, trying to take it. But the officer gave it to the captain instead. “It must have slipped from her as she fell,” remarked the latter, after a cursory examination of the glittering.trinket. “The pin by which she attached it to her dress must have been insecurely fastened.” Then quickly and with a sharp look at Miss Tuttle: “Bo you know if this was considered an accurate timepiece?” “Yes. Why do you ask? Is it —” “Look!” He heid it up with the face toward us. The hands stood at thirteen minutes past seven. “The hour and the moment when it struck the floor,” he declared. “And consequently the hour and the moment when Mrs. Jeffrey fell,” finished Burbin. Miss Tuttle said nothing, only gasped. “Valuable evidence,” quoth the captain, putting .the watch in his pocket. Then, with a kind look at her, called forth by the sight of her misery: “Boas this hour agree with the time of her leaving ,tlio house?”

“I can not say. I think so. It was some time before or after seven. I don’t remember the exact minute.” “It would take fifteen for her to walk hero. Bid she walk?” ”1 do not know. I didn’t see her

leave. My room is at the back of the house.” “You can say if she left alone or. in the company of her husband?” “Mr. Jeffrey was not with her?”

“Was Mr. Jeffrey in the house?” “He was not.” This last negative was faintly spoken. The captain noticed this and ventured upon interrogating her further. ‘‘How long had he been gone?” Her lips parted; she was deepl-y agitated; but when she spoke it was coldly and with studied precision. “Mr. Jeffrey was not at home tonight at all. He has not been in all Cday.” ■ ■ • “Not at home? Bid his wife know that he was going to dine out?”“She said nothing about it.” The captain cut short his questions and in another moment I understood why. A gentleman was standing in the doorway, whose face once seen,

was enough to stop the words on any man’s lips. Miss Tuttle saw this gentleman almost as quickly as we did and sank with an involuntary moan to.her knees. It was Francis Jeffrey come to look upon his dead bride, i I have been present at many tragic scenes and have beheld men under almost every aspect of grief, terror and remorse; but there was something in the face of this man at this dreadful moment that was quite new to me, and, as I judge, equally new to the other hardy officials about me. To be sure he was a gentleman and a very high-bred one at that; and it is but seldom we have to do with any of his ilk. Breathlessly we awaited his first words. Not that he showed frenzy or made any display of the grief or surprise natural to the occasion. On the contrary, he was the quietest person present, and among all the emotions his white face mirrored I saw no signs of what might be called sorrow. Yet his appearance was one to wring the heart and rouse the most contradictory conjectures as to just what chord in his evidently highly-strung nature throbbed most acutely to the horror and astonishment of this appalling end of so short a married life. His eye, which was fixed on the prostrate body of his bride, did not yield up its secret. When he moved and came to where she lay and caught his first sight of the ribbon and the pistol attached to it, the most experienced among us were baffled as to the nature of his feelings and thoughts. One thing alone was patent to all. He had .no wish to touch this woman whom he had so lately sworn to cherish. His eyes devoured her, he shuddered and strove several times to speak, and though kneeling by her side, he did not reach forth his hand nor did ho ' let a tear fall on the appealing feaj tures so pathetically turned upward as if to meet his look. Suddenly ho leaped to his feet. "Must she stay here?" he demanded, looking about, for the person most in authority. The captain answered by a question: "How do you account for her being here at all? What explanation have you, as her husband, to give for this strange suicide of your wife?" For reply, Mr. Jeffrey, who was an exceptionally handsome man, drew forth a small slip of crumpled paper, which he immediately handed over to the speaker. » "Let her own words explain,” said he. "I found this scrap of writing in our upstairs room when I returned

home to-night. She must have written it just before—'before—” A smothered groan filled up the break, but it did not come from his lips, which wore fixed and set, but from thoso of the woman who crouched amongst us. Did he catch this expression of sorrow from one whose presence he as yet had given no token of recognizing? 1-Ie did not

seem to. His eye was on the captain, who was slowly reading, by the light of a lantern held in a detective's hand, the almost illegible .TO# sflteh had 3 ust

said were his wife’s last communication. Will they seem as pathetic to the eye as they did to the ear in that room of awesome memories and present death? “I find that I do not love you as I thought I did. I cannot live knowing this to be so. I pray God that you may forgive me. Veronica.”

A gasp from the figure in the corner; then silence. We were glad to hear the captain’s voice again. “A woman's heart is a great mystery,” he remarked, with a short glance at Mr. Jeffrey.

It was a sentiment we could all echo; for he, too, whom she had alluded in these few lines as one she could not love, was a man whom most women would consider the embodiment of all that was admirable and attractive.

That one woman so regarded him was apparent to all. If ever tire heart spoke in a human face, it spoke in that of Miss Tuttle as she watched her sister’s husband struggling for composure above the prostrate form of her who but a few hours previous, had been the envy of all the fashionable young women in Washington. I found it hard to fix my attention on the next question, interesting and valuable as every 6mall detail was likely to prove in case my theory of this crime should ever come to bo looked on as the true one.

“How came you to search hero for the wife who had written you this vague and far from satisfactory farewell? I see no hint in these lines of the place where she intended to take her life.”

“No! no!” Even this strong man shrank from this idea and showed a very natural recoil as his glances flew about the ill-omened room and finally rested on the fireside over which so repellent a mystery hung in impenetrable shadow. “She said nothing of her intentions; notning? But the man who came for me told me where she was to bo found. llq was waiting at the door of my house. He had been on a search for me up and down tho town. We met on the stoop.” The captain accepted this explanation without cavil. I was glad he did. But to me the affair showed inconsistencies which I secretly felt it to be my especial duty to unravel.

.CHAPTER y, No further opportunity wat/ afforded me that night for studying the three leading characters in the remarkable drama I saw unfolding before me. A task was assigned me by the captain which took me from the house, ' and I missed the next scene —the arrival of the coroner. But I repaid myself for this loss in a way I thought justified by the importance of my own theory and the evident necessity there was of collecting each and every point of evidence which could give coloring to the charge, in the event of this crime coming to be looked on at headquarters as one of murder.

Observing that a light was still burning in Uncle David's domicile, I crossed to his door and rang the bell. I was answered by ' tho deep and prolonged howl of a dog, soon cut short by h>s master’s amiable greeting. This latter was a surprise to me. I had heard so often of Mr. Moore's churlishness as a host that I had expected some rebuff. But I encountered no such tokens of hostile ity. His brow was smooth and his smile cheerfully condescending. Indeed, he appeared anxious to have mo enter, and cast an indulgent look at Rudge, whose irrepressible joy at this break in the monotony of his existence was tinged with a very evident dread of offending his master. Interested anew, I followed this man of contradictory impulses into the room toward which he led me. The time has now come for a more careful description of this peculiar man. Mr. Moore was tall and of that refined spareness of shape which suggests the scholar. Yet he had not the scholar's eye. On the contrary, his regard was quick, if not alert, and while 'it did not convey actual malice or ill-will, it roused in the spectator an uncomfortable feeling, not altogether easy to analyze. He wore his iron gray locks quite long, and to this distinguishing idiosyncrasy, as well as to his invariable* custom of taking his dog with him wherever he went, was due the interest always shown in him by street urchins. On account of his whimsicalities, he had acquired tlio epithet of Uncle David among them, despite his aristocratic connections and his gentlemanlike bearing. His clothes formed no exception to the general air of individuality which marked him. They were of different cut from those of other men, and in this us in many other ways he was a law to himself; notably so in the following instance: He kept one day of the year religiously, and kept it always in the same way. Long years before, he had been blessed with a wife who both understood and loved him. He had never forgotten this fact, and once a year, presumably on the anniversary oi her death, it was his custom to go to the cemetery when? she lay and to spend tho whole day under the shadow of the stone he had raised to her memory. No matter what the weather, no matter what the condition of his own health, he was always to be seen in this spot, at the hour of seven, leaning against the shaft on which his wife’s name was written, eating his supper in the company of his dog. It was a custom he had never omitted. So well known was it to the boys and certain other curious individuals in the neighborhood that he never lacked an audience, though woe betide the .daring foot that presumed to invade tho precincts of the lot he called his, or the venturesome voice which offered to raise itself in gibe or jeer. He has but to cast a glance at Rudge and an avenging rush scattered the crowd in a twinkling. But he seldom had occasion to resort to this extreme measure for preserving the peace and quiet of his solemn watch. As a rule he was allowed to eat his meal undisturbed, and to pass out unmolested oven by ridicule, though his teeth might still be busy over some final tid-bit. Often the great tears might be seen hanging undried upon his withered cheeks. So much for one oddity which may stand as a sample of many others.' One glance at the room into which he ushered me showed why he cherished so marked a dislike for visitors. It was bare to the point of discomforts and had it not boon for.

a certain quaintness in the shape oi the few articles 1o be soon there, I should have experienced a decided feeling of repulsipn, so pronounced was the contrast between this pov-erty-stricken interior and the polished bearing of its owner. He, I am sure, could have shown no .more elevated manners if ho had been doing tho honors of a palace. The organ, with the marks of home construction upon it, was the only object visible which spoke of luxury or even comfort.

But enough of these possibly uninteresting details. I-did not dwell on them myself, except in a vague way and while waiting for him to open the conversation. This he did as soon as he saw that I had no intention of speaking first. “And did you find any one in tho old house?” he aeked.

Keeping him well under my eye, I replied with intentional brusquenes*: “She has gone there once too often! ” The stare he gave me was that ot an actor who feels that some expression of surprise is expected; tom hiaa. “She?” lie repeated. ‘‘Whom ciw you possibly mean by she?” The surprise I expressed at thiii bold attempt at ingenuousness wait better simulated than his, I hop*. “You don’t know!” I exclaimed, “Can you live directly opposite a place of such remarkable associations and not interest yourself it* who goes in and out of its deserfiad doors?” “I don’t sit in my front window, *a he peevishly returned. I let my eye roam toward a chair. standing suspiciously near the wji] window he had designated. “But you saw the light?” I suggested.

“I saw that from the door-step when I went out to give Rudge hi* usual five minutes’ breathing spell on the stoop/ But you have not answered my question; whom do you mean by she?” “Veronica Jeffrey,” I replied. “She who was Veronica Moore. She has visited this haunted house of hers for the last time.” “Last time!” Either he could not or would not understand me.

VWhat has happened to my niece?” he cried, rising witlj an energy that displaced tho great dog and sent him, with hanging head and trailing tail, to his own special sleepingplace under the table. “Has she run upon a ghost in these dismal apartments? You interest me greatly. I did not think she would ever have tho pluck to visit this house again after what happened at her wedding.” “She has had the pluck,” I assured him; “and what is more, she has had enough of it not only to re-enter the house, but to re-enter it alone. At least, such is the present inference. Had you been blessed with more curiosity and made more frequent use of the chair so conveniently placed for viewing the opposite house, you might have been in a position to correct this inference. It would help the police materially to know positively that she had no companion in her fatal visit.” “Fatal?” he repeated, running his finger inside his neckband, which suddenly seemed to have grown too tight for comUiUt. it be that my niece has been frightened to death in that old place? .You alarm me.”

He did not look alarmed, but then ,ho was not of an impressible nature. Yet he was of the same human clay as the rest of us, and, if he knew no more of this occurrence than he tried to make out, could not be altogeth* er impervious to what I had to say next.

"You have a right to be alarmed,*'. I assented. "She was not frightened to death, yet is she lying dead' on the library floor.” Then, with a glance at the windows about me, I added lightly: "I take it that a pis-tol-shot over there could not be heard in this room."

He sank rather melodramatically into his seat, yet his face and form did not lose that sudden assumption of dignity which I had observe in him ever since my entrance into tho house.

“I am overwhelmed by this news,” he remarked. “She has shot herself? Why?”

"I did not say that she had shot herself,” I carefully repeated. ‘‘Yet the facts point that way and Mr. Jeffrey accepts the suicide theory without question.” *‘Ah, Mr. Jeffrey is there!” ‘‘Most certainly; he was sent for at once.” “And Miss Tuttle? She cams with him af course?” “She came, but not with him. She is very fond of her sister.” , (To be Continued.) 1123.