’5 ,‘éfi 5‘s.) 5 5% 3‘ 6:5 l.vr4!=*:it!un W ‘ 'l > '1' u |1i V ‘ tullllmama‘m‘II ‘ , (‘01)yr1ghted.1897. by READ”; AND ADAMS. )«lxn-tman .H Sums“ Puss MATTER AT THE _\r,w You. 3'. Y.. POST OFFICE. Man-h .1. 1397- Ten Cents a Copy. I“ 7 5A. 1 ) ’0 F f v" —»(j ' ) I ' >7» 7 _ N0. Publllhodlvcry ,Bwullp q J] lrz7n.s,\ 1 11127137uj a, D “may!” wwnmh" an WILLIAM smrtm. NEW 3mm. m Ruunn-Hnnm-ann sum >m BY J- C- CO W BRICK- m4 W'%' F‘ “K at“: _ s: _';‘.;h 3‘ ‘ .. . 4!“ d ' . .‘ $ng 1;; | 4“ . “ YOU SAY YOU Am; mxm m: 0k“ Hm « um mm.“ mm; 1..\\\'u;n. “ As INNW EXT A“ \‘0I:,,A.m:,” WM Tm; REPLY. .; A' ' 3 2 The . THE Round-About-Town Sport: on, The Lawyer Detective’s Tangle. An Episode of New York City Court. and Life. BY J. C. (10\\'I)ltl(,‘l\', \U'mon or “(titan-arr or" oo'rnnr," “DUKE BANIELs,” “Purser: 1'.\t'r.,“ “snrnurvr‘ srervoon,” me, are. CHAPTER I. UNDER cover: or“ xron'r. THERE was a moon, but the, night was dark in spite of that. It was one of those nights upon which Dame Nature bestows a unique touch of her handiwork for sake of variety. Not a star could be seen, and even the: moon could barely peer through the upper cloud-Vail, while below the stornrscud was’ speeding inland, as though in flight to es-l cape the rising wrath of its parent—Oldi Ocean. A cemetery, of all places. is most dolorous , on such a night; and of all cemeteries. white- | sentincled Greenwood, that silent city of the dead, in its awful vastness, was, on this night, particularly gruesome. Nevertheless, i shadowy forms Were moving among the , ghostly slabs and monuments. I Not that the place was full of these shad- ows; there Were but four, and one of these i was a, “shadow” in a double sense. i Three of the forms Were moving together, While the other came stealing after them si- t lently anti cautiously, as though determined I to learn the meaning of their nocturnal visit. The latter was a man of heavy build, grim of visage and roughly clad, and in his right hand‘he carried a heavy (Jolt revolver. Of the other three, one was a tall man, wearing a slouch hat, and enveloped in a long and ample cloak; another, walking bc- side the first, was shorter in stature and bearded, wearing a rough but and heav coat, and carrying a pick; while the thin, who followed a pace behind these two, un- mistakably a laborer, was armed wrth spade and bar The man in the big cloak, in which he seemed to hug himself, was clearly the lead- in spirit of the party. It was he who led the way, and he seemed to understand whet e he was going thoroughly ' well, and not to be in arty uncertainty re- , garding his course, dark as it was, and un- piloted. In this manner they proceeded for a con- : siderable distance, shadower and shadowed, i till at last, coming upon a rise of ground Where the rays from a distant electric light fell faintly upon them, they stopped, and the man in the big cloak looked carefully around. The moment they stopped the man with the revolver sunk down behind a convenient headstone, letting his unbuttoned outer coat slip from his shoulders as he did so, and, with revolver ready for instant use, watched to learn what was gorng to be done, his left hand clutching a sturdy sapling to steady his kneeling position, precaution against be. traying his presence. ‘ “This is the spot," spoke the tall man hoarsely, hugging himSelf in his big cloak. “ You are certain of it, are you?‘ question- ed the bearded man. “ We cannot afford to make a mistake, you know." “ I am positive it is the spot,” the tall man sub'oined. “ I came here by daylight, stu ied the surroundings, and marked this grave, us you see.” “ There can be no question about it. then. We will get down to business immediately, for the sooner the disagreeable task is done and we are out of here. the better." He struck the pick into the grave as he finished, and the laborer. throwing ofl? hat , and coat, seized it and began to ply it. vigor- ‘ ously. The watcher retained his position, silent and alert, and the other men. while the la- borer prepared the clay for the spade. spread out a big cloth close to the edge of the round- ' ed mound. “1.... ‘ ’ - s51; ‘ .4“. 3.305.. , gun to remove the earth, taking care to throw each spadeful upon the cloth that had been laid to receive it, the tn o men standing si- lently by and watching the progress made; the man with the revolver in hand crouching lower anti awaiting the result. Larger and higher grew the heap of dirt upon the spread cloth, lower sunk the hole from which it was being taken, and finally the spade struck upon a box, the hollow sound it gave forth signaling that the work was nearly done. A little longer and the cover had been bared, and the laborer handing out his pick and spade, set about opening the box and getting at the cotlin it inelosed. Still the watcher made no Sign or move- ment to betray his presence, but patiently waited. ~ The box was opened; then the coffin, and a body was dragged forth, Now the grim and alert shadower leaned forward with renewed interest, his revolver ready for deft nse or aggression, either, as . tits servit-c might be required. Ilis Wm‘k done, the laborer stepped back out of the way, and the other charge of the, body that had ilttfll exltumetl. It did not seem to be their purpose to take it away with them. The bearded man stooped beside the cold and lifeless clod. tore open in front the gar- ments in which it was clad, and then, by the light of a small bull'seye, now brought into play for the first time, in the hands of hnn in the big cloak, the watcher caught the 3 glint of a. bright knife. \Vhat followed was the woi‘k of a few mo— ments only. The bearded man plied his knife with skill and dispatch, something was renmvcd from the body which was quickly wrapped in a waiting piece of rubber cloth, and the operator rose, his task done. They stepped back, this man and he of the big cloak, the light already out of sight again, and the laborer was told to replace the body where he had found it. Still the shadower took no action in the matter. The work of replacing the body, and of filling the rave and rounding it up as it had been found, occupied quite as much time as had been spent already. It was done with care, that there might be no suspicion that it had been disturbed, as the use of the cloth to keep the dirt oil? the grass had witnessed. Finally they departed as silently as they had come, the watcher retaining his position until they had passed well out of hearing as well as out of sight,wh0n he rose anti stretch- cd himself, having now put away his weapon. “ Well, this goes ahead of anything of the kind I ever seen," he said to himself. “ If they were diggin’ fer treasure, I meant to ‘ come in for a share, or if they was goin’ to 'take the body, I had anotion I’d demand hush-money of ’em; but when they coolly took out the dead man’s in’ards, that knocked me tlabbergt‘tsted.” He picked up his discarded overcoat and hung it upon his shoulders again as it had been at first, not because it was cold, but to keep oil’ the driving mist that was spraying upon him. “ Yes. that beats all, even in my line,” he said further, looking around. “I wonder what it all means, anyhow-‘2 They ain’t no school students. they ain't; they’re too old fer that, and students don’t dig they're own cadavers, as a rule. Besides, they want the whole thing, while these fellows took some- thin’ of the insides. Here is a puzzle, Ilugh AWstin, as sure as you’re born!” lIe reflected, rubbing his chin, as he stood and looked at the grave that had been so newly rounded up afresh. What Could it mean, anyhow? “This was the spot they wanted, that's certain, for the big fellow said he had been here by daylight and marked it. It’s a new plant—anyhow not very old, and there’s no headstone up yet, or I might find out who the cadaver was. Iiellol here’s a stick; that may tell the story jest as good as a granite shaft! Where's my matches? I must get onto this thing if I Can llal here we are; and now to see what we’ll see—if I can make a match hold fire in this beastly wea- ther.” Bending over the stick and sheltering it ‘ Taking up the spade, next, the laborer be- with his‘ooat, he struck a match. 3 v . . . « e.‘ '.. ' g x - . » >. . . .k i . . r . , If a , J . . \t “I F .. Ii. -, 4,. \ .a . ’3‘ wk“ :r- ~.. M, t. - - _ 'uxv‘ .- L,’ RefinthboutiTown Sport: men took 3 “Good enough!” he ejaculated, after a moment of silence. “That tells the story. The dead man was Philip Kassinger. Now. who was he? Kassinger—Kassinger? 1 am sure I have heard that name before, but where and when was it? Kassinger? It is .‘ familiar enough to me— Ha! now I haVeit. ; It. is the name my boy John has mentioned lof late. What mystery is here, anyhow? 1 Hang it! what an idiot I was not to follow ‘them and learn where they went! I could have come back here by daylight and got 3 this information. \Vell, it‘s too late now to l mourn about that; I’ll see John, and we‘ll iget at the bottom facts in this case, or bu’st!” I CHAPTER II. | UNCLE AND NIECE. t GowER TERWILLIGER brought his fist down upon the massive table with a thump . akin to thunder. g “ Girl, have a care what you say!” he stormed “ You are not of age yet, and I am your lawful guardian. 1 say you shall marry Theodore l’eyterson!" “ And I declare as tirmly and emphatically that I will not!” was the (leliant retort. “ I eare not if you are my uncle and guardian; r I would refuse even Were you my father. I do not like the man." " Pshaw! What does it matter whether . you like him or not? This is a matterof pure business, and I am looking out for your best interests—” - “ And your own!" “ Zonnds! llow dare you talk like this to me? \Vhy, Miss Impudence, I have a good notion to shut you up and keep you on bread and water till you come to your senses. You do not know what is good for you. I am leoking to your best interests, I tell you, and i you are standing in your own light.” 1 “I do not ask you to look after my in- terests so closely as to choose a husband for me, Gowcr Terwilliger. If you are really concerned for my interests, suppose you show it by restoring to me the fortune of my dead mother, which you have robbed me of. I know you, sir; I know that my welfare is the last thing you have in mind in this scheme you propose." Gower Terwilliger was a “ close-fisted, red- faced, mutton-chopped, bull-necked British beef-eater," as a certain indignant man had one day called him to his face, and indigna- tion had prompted a description that was more truthful than elegant. It was a de- scription that fitted his character and person like a. garment made to order. He Was all of that, and more; and now, as his niece glared at him, her fists clinched and eyes flashing. he seemed on the point. of choking. " Zonnds! Eternal zonndsl" he raged. “What is this you say to me, girl? If you were not my sister’s child, I would —— would—” ' “The fact that I am your dead sister’s child, sir, has never brought me justice at your hands. 0n the contrary, you have taken advantage of me on the strength of that in every wn possible.” “Mildred Daniels, I’ll cast you out a pan- er on the streets, for this sort of talk to me!” the guardian cried, fairly purple in his rage. “You ought to be ashamed, after the way in which I have been father and mother both to you ever since you came under my care!" “Hyper-rite!” the girl sneered. “ So you would like to have the World believe, I know. Two weary years more and I shall be of age, and then will come your day of reckoning. And it is of that you stand in fear. You know you have wasted my fortune, and can- not restore to me my rights when I shall come of age, and hence you are so eager to have ‘ me marry as you desire}: “This to me—to met’ v ” Yes, to you, sir! You have at last roused the tiger of my nature. H The wildcat of our accursed American blood, you mean. '1 he one [Dislith of your mother‘s life was when she married your fa- ther.” ' “ The grandest mistake she ever made was when she sent for you to manage her busi- 11658 for her after my father's death. Would to God that. I had never seen your face at all ” “ Where would that business have'been to. day, 1th me ask, only for me 1" r. I. ~ , . ._514 L‘ I .‘,-~ . ‘ .«. H's“ ‘ . .: f" ~ i“ "i" M ma . “or...” r 1- ,~ g, ~z, Hm;- e- —- --+¢ a... :4 right and power!”- floor tremble. .y.‘.'v“‘-V5-“m\ : s r > -. .. an» ‘L d; :9" N just you understand fluttx’” 5 «95.: have picked out for you ‘3" “That is just what I want you to under- stand; I will not marry the man!” “ Well. I want you to understand me: You "shall marry Theodore Peyton-son, and that within amonth. Make up your mind toil, and prepare yourself accordingly. a». Ham: 5 r is all I have to say to you ” them even did I love him. have to use the rod." hasn't the right to w contempt of such a-wretch ll? .. " Hat that firesyaou up..does'lt1 I would strike the right note if I mentioned , ‘ the name of William Gerrc‘dsnn. "That is 3“ where your affection lies, is it? Well, you'll' ‘ never wed lu'm ,' that I assure you. : is not he engaged to your other ('ousiti, 'l‘be- resa’s sister? It is a poor rule, that will not werk‘both wayshmy angelic Mildred. . ’ could T'nol; ate between him and Beatrice, i ' could you? ,ome, thatwould not be honor- _: ‘ able, you know." "I have no intention of doing so, dear _ uncle l" with some ofhis own irony in the tone. 3 ;_’«...;,,ff=fBut,.if I cannot marry where I do love, ‘ " néii‘s‘éeiygiu ‘83; pm)ng the secret, I certainly will I” r “alias,” 3. cannot fercegmgjrw: . 5l “ . ilk-defy you hereto»! . r d ‘ posed like. a young Dianna r and defiant. , ,_ ,“ Have a care.” rem .. "r. hetero l'would yield." ” You will have the chance. a 'Vwould not, 4 ;you.”' - ‘ “Oh, you managed it Well, very well in- deed, I havetoadmit; you managed it. [-0 well that in lesra than two years the bulk'of it was in your owu name, owing to my poor mother's blind confidence in you and her ignorance of business matters.” “Curse your impudenee! I am going to manage. all my business as suits me, in my l 3 own wa '. My business is to manage you ' and by Ileavens I’m going to do it, too! f » '3 you understand that? I have the right and I ‘ power to do it, and I'm going to exercise my He brought his fist down again twice upon the heavy table with a force that made the “ You may have the right and power. but you will find that I have a will of my own as , well. and that I am going to exercise it more in the future than I have done in the past; . “ Then you would give me to understand '. ,_ that you positively will not marry the man I “ You have lu-ard my answar. not marry the man were I sure of going in rags and tatters uli the days of my life. " do not love him. Besides. you know very well that he is engaged to mvcousin, Theresa aningcr, and I would n It step between into your vile body! doubly balked in your base scheme!” _ “Ballad. am I? We'll see about that! have that young man in my power. and when I put the screws on him he’ll be glad enough. to give up Theresa and wed on. not know everything, 'et,vmy car. have some romantic vs nonsense in. your head concerning that beggar, William Ger- redson, but I’ll knock that. all out of you if’I in her eyes before. ' CHAPTER III. THE KASSINGER momma MYSTERY. Murder! ‘Murder!" The startling cry came from the library of the Kassinger residence. , In a few moments a trembling, white-faced group was athered at the door, under which ‘ k-red stain had Issued. It Was “What! Do you dare intimate that you would attempt such a thingr as violence?” “ Would I? You just carryon in this way 2 allttle longer and I‘ll show you whether I .would..or not. I’m the same as a parent to, yonpyoulmust understand, and in the eyes of the law you are, only a child. Jr a stout pod unruly ch! ; than we had better give up altogether?” . ' ’. " " That is just what you had better do unmasked villain! Why. did you do such a thing in that. I believe I would take your life! I feel that Iwould kill you in spite of myself! ‘ "~1_Ydtt.cletiestable coward .’ You ought to blush ‘with shame at the thought of doing such a thitth Really, I cannot find words strong enough to express my supreme I ltumtln carpet lay twoi-gir , dagger buried in her-asidogtho across the body of the first, meticulous. * ‘ ’ . The first was dead, as the drawn, waxy features plainly indicated, and the other No wonder the servants stood spellbound, their own faces like unto death itself in the ashy paleness of each one. ,“ What is thematter?" the feeble voice of Leonard Kassiuger was calling. down from _ , , “ What has happened?” “My God, afri’the butler managed to asp, “One of ‘ourduughter‘s has been mur- seemed to be. A the floor above. def. A . 1:39: till he . ilien; wheeled’into tile 1 f" on is arr}: God-‘lmdenisjlmi for nothing! I would take my ' " his time silencer I. would do any despemte'thing. ‘ -_ . fitter death to a life of ease and wealth with ' 2‘ . Theodore‘l’e tensor), go ahead; your demise ' ’ jnconvenience me any, I assure - “‘1‘ maniac: a; no deed you might at- .i" oculdrnfinso me. even to murder ‘ ’ you 3' ,ll‘heverwed Gerredson, for will lit a veto to that. '18,, r or'yoluéo do tsdto '11“. '70“ . i I ha taken oath to it. I’ll show you who is going to be master in this matter.” V ' “ Then hear my vow," the girl cried, wild- ly and desperately, throwing herself upon her knees and raising her clasped hands on “ Spirit of my dead mother, hear me! Rather than submit to what my very soul re- CUIIS from, I will free my spirit and go to I ll do anything, no matter what, to bulk these villainous machinations against me! I hold my life as naught!” For a moment longer she remained there, silent, as if in prayer; then she rose, her whole manner changed. Ileretoforc shd had been all meekness, and had submitted to the will of her uncle-guar dian in all things. At last she had turned Now, as she rose. she was calm and composed, outwardly. “Ila! that was pretty!” the villain up- “You ought to be on the stage Mildred, on my soul you ought! win fame and fortune there, Iknow. pose you try it when I turn you out. is what I am going to do, unless you do as I command you.” “If you do that I'll expose your villainy at once and show you to the world as you are ——an infamous scoundrel.“ You dare to threaten? care, girl. or out you go this moment!" [In ro.~e and advanced upon her, his brow lowvringr and hi; “hole aspect that of a des— perate than equal own to murder itself. “Back!” she warned him. drawing a slen— der dagger from a fold of her dress. you lay one finger on me I‘ll (IIIVc this blade I hale you-oh! how I hate you, execrable sconndrel that you are!” ‘ He recoilcd fromrhrfure her, as she no- companied her vvhement Words. with a look such as he had never sren upon her face or The next moment she turned and was gone from the room—he staring at the door for a moment when it had closed, and then shaking his fist IOWard it You would Sup That Have a self on the velvet ‘ ‘ yous, with a ‘ .moae; “ Great heaVensl . Come and ’ carry“ me downwcarry me down instantly il’ . Leonard Kassingcr was achronic invalid . who had been confined to the house for years“ and to his room the greater part. of the time. When he (lid come down he hadto be car- ried and placed in an invalid’s chair that ‘J . The butler and another servant sprung im- mediatel to obey his imperative and urgent, though eeble, command,and he washronght had been placed in. . his} . moans, had been observed -'~' new truths nuance broken by cries an "isobs from menus and terrified servants as they recalled from the fearful sight. the bereaved father's grief hav- ing awakened them from their apath . ' ” Which is it?’_’ the butler repeats the de- mand, addressing the housekeeper. not Beatrice ‘2" .. “ Oh! I do not know, I do "not know,” the 5’" Mrs“ Kissinger. dl- he “Is it ~ ' erand Theresa were‘tdiiiiéb I Tso‘ucarlyhhke in ks and form that it was” wore. Under the present extmnrdimu-y cl . “PWKBewW-ppmhmcéifi smug harrnnei‘; Wowfil’h“ " - ‘ err-shoestammd to where he sat» ’Theresa?”Mr. a, “Whitinm, M r hfi.,igwg .., .__ ...._- .N —5—._~._—. 7.....-s- . -.« This Was done, and the limp. warm body that -had lain prone across the one that was cold in death was laid upon a lounge. " Is she dead, too?" inquired the inval‘l father, with a calmness that was plainly forced. “ Do not tell me she is, for that V would kill me. Great Heavens! who can- have dime so hellish a deed “.7” “No, sir; she lives,” the butler quickly reported. “Evidently she just made file discovery, sir, and fainted as soon. as she gave the alarm.” " See which one it is—quiekly, quickly. Look at her watch, that will tell you.” The butler drew the girl‘s watch from its pocket, and glancing at it, said: ‘ “This one is Theresa. sir.” A, great sigh escaped the feeble man, and he turned his gaze upon his other child. “ \V'no can have done it? who can have done it?” he muttered. “ Where was the mo=ive for so terrible a crime?” ._ By this time the butler had left the living young lady, and now he laid his band tender. by upon the forehead of the one that was end. " “Dead,” be said briefly. “She is cold. sir. and has been dead for hours. Icannotv understand it. Well may you ask who can have done so heinous a deed." lie was an intelligan man, this butler—.- C‘ranford by name; ju . ’thgwe‘apon with which the, deed was'd “Yes, yes, it is mine; I do not deny it." The accused man appeared half crazed. He held yet more tightly to the chair, at the same time pressin his hand the more franv tit-ally to his be It had the manner of forced acting. "Then you are the man we want." said the ollieer with the handcuffs. “ Take care that you do not otl'er resistance." With quick and powerful action he laid hold upon the prisoner, and the handcuffs were snapped into place on his wrists, the horror of the situation causing a perspiratiOn to break out upon the prisoner‘s forehead. “This is terrible," he gasped, faintly. sinkin down upon the chair. “I am inno~ cento any murder—J swear to you I am innocent! Who has been killed? You haw- not told me that.” ' . “It is hardly necessary, sir. Your tine acting will not save you.” “ IIeavensl will you not believe me when I .‘rl/‘(WI' I am innocent of any such deed? 'l‘ell lll(‘, tr/m has been killed?” “ Beatrice Kassinger." “My tied! Oh, my God! —it can not be true!” He sprung to his feet at mention of the name, his eyes fairly starting out of their sockets. The detective—sergeant and his assistant looked at each other and smiled. It was so plain a case that there could be no doubt about it, and the man’s acting only served to amuse them. “When was she killed, and how?” the prisoner demanded. “Tell me all about it, I beg of you! It is newsto me. I swear it is news tome! Poor Beatrice! Greatheavensi it is more than I can bear!" IIc clapped his manaclcd bands to his face, and sobs shook his frame. If acting, it was superb. “ How can you deny it, in the face of such proof?” the detective-sergeant demanded. “ Your dagger was found buried in her side, and here we have taken you in the act of cleaning blood from your overcoat. You were heard Quarreling with he! t_night..’.’,. ., “ Idid not do it! ' It is a horrible mystery to me, and“ I cannot corn rehend it.” ' “ t me warn you that whatever you may 99. Inow will be used against you at your trla .” “ I can say nothing but the truth—that I am innocent.” “ All the proof is against you.” ' “ Yes. I see it is. cannot understand. 1 am bewildered “ and shrokon with grief. It is not true .- 'Beatrioe dead-s-oh, my Godl Beatrice, my 'love my life!” “ This has been carried about far enou h," spoke the detective—sergeant, coldly. “§ou must come with us, sir. I will release one of your hands while you prepare for the street.” “First tell me all about this terrible affair, I beg of you. You do not believe me inno- cent—I cannot bionic on; but.~~yet again do I swear that I am as nnocent of this crime as eilhorot ‘yougzond I im lore you to tell me the particulars of the aw ul matter." “Do you promise not to try to escape. or to do injury to yourself, if I release your hand ?" ” YES. 3'08. I promise that.” “Very well. The wors'e fm‘ make such attempt. ' 1 viii). mention the facts of the case while you arodressmg.” And this Was done, while the prisoner was nervously preparing himself to accompany his captors, the facts beingislated substan- tiall as they are known to‘the render. “ yste , mystery,” the prisoner sorrow- t'ully muse , when he had heard all. “Then you still hold out? You still pro. tend that you are innocent. whenthe evidence against you is so dark and dammngec , “ I speak on] the truth when I innocence. W on I» parted fromlflss Kas- singer last night she was alive and in health, standing by the table In the libratx. It is true that we ported to an ger.” "How, then, came this blood on cost?" . “ I do not know; I discovered it this morn- ing, and it puzzled me.” , ' I , “ And how come this dagger of.yonrs to. 56 . We know '1‘ ~5,,(10-1003‘ I do ‘ has 1’ swear 1 di "not dditi C' yam. 1?” ‘ lure my your _ ' ii. - .‘V, v.9. ‘ .. '-.Lh:o"““=pi~ 2m; .. wrw» -. Mum. . m‘ ark-i J» , 45va r. ‘wrn a.” w. y'e...‘ I ,a ‘ _ some time. I always kept it therc'on the mantel, as an ornament.” » - “How long hadyou missed it?" “ It must now be nearly a momh since I first noticed that it was gone.” i “ Here is the first appearance of proof for your statement of innocence, then. (if course you made inquiry about it, when you missed it, and can easily prove that.” .f The prisoner’s face darkened. { “Everything is against me,” he said do» Spondently. “Imade no mention of it. I did not value the thing highly, anyhow, and thought if I kept still about it I would be just as likely to find it as though I made much ado.” “Away goes that slight prop, then. Mr. GerredsOn, the ease looks dark for you, in- deed." “ I can but admit it, sir. Still, I am inno- cent; nor can I imagine who the guilty one . can be.” u “ Nor can we, if not yourself. The proof is enough to send you to the chair, however, and I don't see a ray of hope {or you." “ Is it certain it was not suicide ‘2” “ So we have decided. The dagger was in such aposition that it could not have been , driven there by her own hand. But your 1 L quarrel with her; what was that about?" c‘. .W. 311". I 3 .«g “ It was her own fault. She wrought me , to anger by her persistent misconstruing of 5;: ”' whatever said. It appeared to me that she'Was 'lGSOiVCd upon working me into a r s rage. I have nothing to deny so far as the quarrel goes, and it all came John A“ stin.” “Who is he?" about my rival, : a .“He is a nobody, sir. Somehow he has g , , gotten a foothold in socilrz‘tg, but he is a cur, , at best, and what ange me most was to have comparisons drawn betWeen «him and me to my disadvantage. Inever had seen Miss Kassinger so unreasonable before in my life, and that's why I asked“ it was positive- ly not‘suicide. She seemed to be out of her right mint .” “ Even could it be said that it might have been suicide, that would not explain the ,, blood upon your coat.” " No, that is true. it is more than my be- wildered mind can grasp." “ Perhaps this fellow Awstin is the man?" “ I cannot think him so base as that. He’s too much a coward for so terrible adeed- No, no; i will not think that ‘of him, much as I despise him; then, where was the mo. tive? And. too, what motive could I have had ?—1 who loved her so?” x The points could not be settled. and a little later on the otlicers left the house with their prisoner in charge. ~_.._._ CHAPTER V. , , fl \somwosrmcm 110,313». "it-scuttle and awful hush hh‘come over the Kassinger residence. it affected the morbidly curious crowd in the street, holding them in respectful silence. They simply stood gazing in awe. The news of the crime had spread by this time, and for an hour reporters had been . - ruling fer particulars at the door, only to ' ' he turned away unsatisfied and to a degree antagonistic. Presently another man sprung up the steps, as those who had preceded him had done, trend the crowd expected to see him, too, - .".t?rmdaway, but in this they were’one and all; ,. Jamie!“ Kiomptly admitted {Into the hoses Q!- t, butler saw who e was. . -_ I ;‘ This iersonagewas i“ ‘ 1 ” FWD" . of thirty or tllereaboutsyWB“ ressdsdmrid wealin well the an ofagentleman. ' " j ‘ ' His ace was pale and his manner expres-' 5 airifotkeenest grief. « t- “ "foul, is this terrible repOrt true i" he made haste to inquire of the butler. l A “ Alas! it is Mr. PeytersonQ' was the solemn, respectful answer. “It is too tem- ple for belief, almost. No one can realize t 5”.” V “it almost struck me dumb‘when I heard it.-;Crnn.ford. . But, what of Mr. Kassinger? ' tribe-hear up under the blow? And gainsflfimingort~l suppose it has , t. , \ said blow for th em both. sir, iss .Iiivsd very little in me, lately. «I 1; room upstairs, sir. She told me to say this “I will go up at once.” ding had been set for a day not far distant. to enter He found his aflianeed alone with her I grief. l “ My )oer Theresa!” he cried, hurrying to , her, ho] ing outJlis hands. “No words can . express the sympathy I feel for you at such l a time as this." i She rose and yielded herself to his em- ‘ brace, laying her head upon his shoulder, si- ' lently weeping. They stood thus for some moments. Finally she drew herself gently away, re- suming her seat, and mdiioned for him to take a chair at her side. . , “ You have heard all aboat it:" she asked. “I have heard the one terrible fact," was the response. “ Do not attempt to give me the particulars; I will learn them else— where." “Iappreciate your wish to spare me the pain of talking about it, Theodore, but that is nothing, now, after the great first shock struck numb every nerve in my whole body ——almost paralyzed me.” Slowly and sadly she gave him the par- ticulars. “ And the olice found no clue?” he asked, when she h done. " That brings me to the most painful part, f possible,” was the reply. ‘I Why, whomdo they suspect? Does sus- picion point to somevknown person? I have not heard.” ‘ ‘ “ They suspect Will Gerredson." “Her lover? Impossibh’.’ They might as well suspect me." “It is true, and it looks dark. indeed, for him. They quarreled last night, and the dagger is marked with his initials—W. G.” “ This makes it more terrible than ever. to think of such a thing as possible. What can have been his motive? But, it is folly to think of him as a murderer!" “If he did do it, it was jealousy." “Jealous of whom?” “ ohn Awstin.” . -' -«Pshawt It cannot be possible. Why, Bcatrice ileyeghad a thought for that fellow, had shat-"1‘, r .. , . “I am sure‘i’do riot know. She confided . now she went out Wlth him frequently, and his name was. mentioned in their high words last night." ‘ ' I “It is terrible, truly. But, I cannotthink of Will Gerredson as a murderer. I'would sOuner suspect AWStin himself ." “ But,‘ where was his molive?" b ""To keep Will from wedding her, it might e. ., ” I should think he would have thohght first of putting his rival out of the way, and not the girl he loved.” ‘ " I do not know. It is all a terrible mys- tery, and it is a sad blew for you and our father—for all of us. for that matter. ow our happiness must bedeferred, mydariing!’ “ lt ls a sad time. now, to s ak of—L” “ Pardon it, Ispoke before thought. Let it not be mentioned between us, at any rate not now.” “ Since you have spoken of it, however, I will tell you what I think about it, Theodore.- we can be married, in the most quiet man- uer, at the time set—J " You mean it Theresa?” _ - ' ._“Certainly.g This and event is'sometbing :unlooked,*'for, something that could not -be foreseen. and nothing can make any difieré once to poor Beatrice now. What the world say8,'tilat we need: not aerator. ,. ding will be best." i I I r v ;. “Bless (you, my'darlin'gr. I Would not have dare to suggest it, ut it is the most: sensible thing for us to do, Ithi'nk. How- but 3% and event, anyhow, at the” Thercsll. you will find her in her own silting- i to you, if you should call, sir.” " Theodore Peyterso'n and Theresa Kassingcr ; leave you, now, and were engaged to be married, and the wed- l What you need most of all is to be alone and I ' ,’ _ I qlllet When the caller reached the door of the ‘prlvatc sitting-room, he tapped, and was told ; rdumb under the burden of her great and sud- ?sione. .1 will try to make up for it i hope; ever, no more needs be said about it at pres- ent. When will the inquest-beheld ‘2" “ Tomorrow, at ten o'clock.” , “Then you must compose yourself all you? can to face that trying ordeal. it will tax; your strength to the utmost, perha s.” l “I am prepared for anything, Theodore first ' am more an automaton than I am a living and breathing woman. My very blood atoms to be standing still.” “ No one can wonder, my darling. I will go to your father. “ Maybe you are right. You will find papa in his room.” The lover embraced his afiianced, imprint- ed a kiss upon her fair cheek, and withdrew, leaving her as he had found her—all but den grief. l’eylerson wentdirect to the room of Mr. Kassinger, where he found him in a great arm chair, which be occupied by day when. he remained in his room. . He had been carried up again after the ‘ departure of the detective-sergeant and his « “' men. ' The old man held out his hand to him in - silence. “ It is a sad blow, Mr. Kassinger. and you ha"; my fullest sympathy,” the younger man Sp') 8. ‘ A pressure was the response. “I have just come from Theresa, and. she _ , seems quite comp0sed.‘ The wonder is that the shock did not kill both her and you. Would that I could do something to assuage your grief.” ~ ' “ Sit down,” the invalid‘invited. to talk with you.” . Pcyterson drew up a chair and sat down -, close by the old gentleman, giving him all? attention. I . ' \ ‘.~ “ Yes. it is a terrible blow,” the feeble old man said, “ but it. might have been yet mo terrible had it been my favorite, Th ; Thank God, she is spared to meyetl” ' , g - Peyterson was Silent. With the inlet“. -- he had at stake, heconld say nothing without ' ‘ appearing selfish. . * “ Sire is spared to me," the old man re 7 " ed, “and I can bear it. Not that I d'. not ' ‘ ‘ leve Beatrice, but Theresa was my favorite, 1 _; Ever at my side in times of trouble—I'm. " her even now when there is the best rife;- cuses‘for her absence. « She thinks he: grief makes mine the harder to bear, poor child!” “ . “I feel sure she holds your sorrow first in r mind, sir.” - ' “There is no question about that. Bills." ,_ what do you think about the terribiei , ' g cion aoainst Gerredson? Do you ‘ “ i want” ' n‘v can be true that he is the guilty mang'i‘her, dore?" 3, . “ It does not seem possible, Mr. K ' " I would never have believed itot et—"b , ~ :: ’ “ Yetall theproof safaris against hittn hope it is’not so, I hope he can clear himself}; for I always liked the boy. The ,moti ,, seems such- a silly one, for a fellowof his? strength of character.” _ .. g “It does. truly. I hope, with you, he will be found guiltless. But, wherein!!! can suspicion fall?" , ‘ , ~' “ The poor child had another lover}; *- “Awstin?” . « “ Yes." r « “ Do you suspect him i" ' ' ' ‘ "No, nor do not understand me that way ~ I merely mention him." » “I had rather suspect him than Mix.) r'edson, Mr. Kassinger. though it is h ,_ think him capable of so heinous a deed." “And then the lack of mom-e." ‘~Jw is a weak motive, it seems to me, for; case the rivals would have been more to have sought the lives of each other —“ You are right. It is impenetrable. ‘ Presently their taikwss coming in 011‘ _ 4. ’ ' ‘ i“ " You must pardon me, ."she ; withsadsweetnsss,“for lea ng you so w ‘ a . rs ,. Marches filled tho-calm in." . . . She took a seat on the other side? ’ gamut, taking one of his withered ers and fondling it tenderly. The old man looked at her tum . out speaking. tears filling bisiflfli r " .. A little later on the detectim‘m announCed. and Mr. Kassingel' End. tinns to have him shown? up W‘tb't‘m and when he came 11951008“ “Wm earning .» my place we nose! mien ~ finv‘ x:',j.->-_V . . ._.‘ .. A w a". u ;; I hand on his arm beseechingly. 6 I The Round-About—Town Sport. good deal of the young man. The proofs in hand were such as could not be doubted, and the (letective-sergeant declared it to be the plainest case he had ever had anything to do with in his life. CHAPTER V I. A wocrrnxm. vIsI'rou. WILLIAM (licnmtostzu had been, of course, lodged in the Tombs prison. IIerc, besides prisoners awaiting trial in the police courts and special sessions, per- sons accused or convicted of higher crimes are always imprisoned. - A gloomy and forbidding pile by day, by night the Tombs is suggestive of some gaunt and grisly relic of ages past. By a very slight stretch of the imagination, a famished Babylonian lion may be expected to emerge from the lugubrious portico, or a hideous crocodile of the Nile to drag its slimy length along the wide, dark stone steps. This building, if you have never seen it, is said to be, and undoubtedly is, the most perfect specimen of pure Egyptian architec- ture anywhere outside of Egypt, and it ought to be one of the most imposing struc‘ turcs in the metropolis. Perhaps it would be, did not its situation detract from its ap- pearance, for it is situated in a hollow, and its massive proportions are really dwarfed into insignificance by the unfortunate loca- tion in which it is discovered. The night following in order the events of the preceding chapters was one of radiant moonlight. A turn of the wind had driven back the storm-clouds of the previous night, and Nature was in one of her mildest moods. As the moonlight fell aslant upon the Tombs prison, a beautiful effect in light and shadow was prodlICed; and the gloomy pile shown in all its massive grandeur. The hour was not early when a woman emerged into the moonlight from the north side of the block the prison occupies, and hastened along to the main entrance. This main entrance is on Centre street, and the moonlight was falling full upon the steps and spacious portico. The woman was clad in a gown more befit ting the drawing-room than the street, and a gfie mantle enveloped the upper part of her Ayhood attached to the mantle was drawn over her head, and it being large and held by her hand in front, nothing of her face could be seen save the eyes, bright and flash- in . There Was nothing of uncertainty about her manner. She proceeded straight to the broad steps, sprung upon them, and entered the forbidding place, still holding her hood closed in-front, making it 8(3er the purpose of a mask. She was noticed as soon as she entered where the light within fell upOn her, and an employee stepped up and stopped her. “Which way, madam?" he demanded. "What do you want?” ” My son,” she almost gasped a reply—“I must see my son 1" “ And who is your son '2" “ William Gerredson. He has been arrest- ed—cruelly and falsely arrested—for murder, and I must see him! 1 have just reached the city, and have not lost a moment in coming here. Do not refuse me, oh! do not refuse me!" The subkecper looked closely at the little of the face he could see within the folds of the hood, and caught sight of the woman’s front hair, low upon her forehead, and noting that it was almost snowy white, had no rea- son to suspect her of untruth. “ But, you will have to wait till to-morrow, and come in the regular way, you know,” he declared. _ “No! no!" the woman pleaded, laying a “Do not doom me to the torture of this night without seeing my boy! I must hear.it from his own lips that he is innocent :" “Impossible, madam!” was the stern de- crec. “ You cannot come in at this hour without a special permit, and it will be more trouble than it’s worth for you to try and get one, at this time of night. You Wi l have to go away and come again. Don’t be foolish, now—” “ But I have a special permit—I have a pass,” the woman interrupted, with eager haste, in a low tone. “ Oh! Why didn‘t you say so, then? Let me see it.” “ It is a hundred dollars, ’ in a whisper. “No, no!" the man refused, with a light laugh. but at the same time in a low tone like her own. “ My job is worth more than that, madam.” I “Then it is two hundred—two hundred . and tifty, and the money in your hand. I tut/st see my boy; I cannot live till morning and not hear him say he is innocent. ()hl have pity on a sorrowiug mother!" “But it can't be done, madam. I’d be seen, and there would be the deuce to pay inuntulintely. That’s quitca bait to dangle at a fellow, but I dare, not bite. No, no, it, can‘t be done. Please go away, and never let on about yourtryin’totempt me. I ought to pull you in.” “ It isjinc hundred, my man—live hundred dollars all in crisp new bills, and you can give up your miserable employment here and strike out for yourself, That will carry you a long distance, you know. and put you on your feet. You must admit me; I cannot go away and not see my boy. Had I a thousand dollars, I would give that as cheerfully.” “We are watched, lady; make believe you are done and let me show you out. I must not be suspected, you know. Go around to the west entrance, hide there in the shadows. and wait till you hear the door open Don’t be afraid. I’ll take the risk. for the five hun- dred you promise, but it has got to be in my hand before I let on in. That’s right; let on your business Is done and you’re going. Don‘t get tired of waiting, even if it is two hours or longer.” The woman understood and acted, and with a how she turned and lctt the place the way she had come. “Who was that?” another keeper imme- diately asked. “Oh! only a dame wantin' to sce Curley the Crook,” was the answer, in a tone of dis- gust. “ She made me tired. she did.” It was more than an hour later when a door on the opposite side of the prison was cautiously opened. ~ As soon as it swung back on its hinges a woman appeared, ready to enter. “ I thought you would never, never come,” she said, in an impatient Whisper, “ t-nt I would have waited here till daylight. I must see my boy—my poor boy!” “ VVhere‘s that pass?" the traitorous t'e low demanded, eagerly. “Let us have that, and I’ll See that you do see your bov. Step right in, quick. Now, the money, if you please ” “Here it is. here it is, sir; it is all right, but you can step aside and count it if you want to.” There was enough light for the fellow to see he had a fistful of good money, and de— ciding quickly that he would take the wo man's Word for the amount, he thrust it into his pocket and bade her follow him. Presently he stopped and faced her. “Now, here's the keys,” he said, giving some keys into her hand. “I‘ll keep back, after I indicate the door to you. If you get found out, nobody will find me, that I tell you, and you will have to face the music. But, you mustn’t stay more’n two minutes, and I’ll let you out, then, the same way you came in.”. " My stay will be short,” was the eager re- ply. “I only want. to hear one word from my b0 '3 lips—~that he is innocent.” “AII right, then, you’ll likely get out again.” The man led on, soon descending a short flight of three or four steps, by a barred win dow through which the moonlight was streaming, and indicating that the door was the first one on the left, drew back into a corner where a dark shadow concealed him. The woman let go her hold upon her hood, preparatory to putting the key in the lock, and as she did so, the hood fell back upon her shoulder, exposing her faCe to the gaze of the rascally keeper, who, though some distance away, quickly noted that she was young and fair, and that the white hair was not her own. With a startled glance in his direction, she Zingerted the key in the heavy, bolt-riveted oor. The door opened readily, and once more pulling her hood over head and face, she passed uickly in. 0 til 8 cot lay the prisoner, feverishly ' f “s 1’. w", 7533:1- as... 531‘ mass...» * . ’ a: “- v1“_.. sleeping, but as the reflection ot the moon- light, came into his cell, he started up, rub- bing his eyes. “ My boy! oh, my poor boy!" the woman exclaimed, juvt loud enough for the ears of the hiding keeper without, as though thinkv int; to deCeive him still, and in the same mo- ment she was at the side of the cot, whisper— lllfl'i “ Ilerc, tnkethis. It is poison. You must. not suffer the di>gracc of the executioner's touch. Guilty though you must be, you shall have this chance to cheat the law. Take it, as: soon as I am gone, and be out of your trouble so far as this matter is cen- cel'ned.” “Ilut who are—” “ Not, a word! I‘m a friend, of course; one who would do you this kindness. I told the keeper I was your mother. Not a word, now; I will answer nothing; I am geing at Once as l cuInc—secretly.” She had moved to the door, and was out and had closed it before (let'redson was able to spring up to detain lur. Quickly turning the key, she motioned to the trailorous keeper and sprung up the steps out of the stream of moonlight, he fol- lowing her promptly. “Get out now, just as soon as you can,” he whispered. “This is my last night of duty here, but I want to go off in the morn- {)ng a," right. They Won't see me again, you c “The safest thing you can do,” the wo- man advised. “ My boy may be dead before morning, for I delivered poison into his hands with which to take his life." " You are a rather young Woman, to have a son as old as that, madam. You can’t fool me that way.” “You saw my face, then ‘2” “ I did.” “ Would you know me again?" “Can’t say; it was only a glimpse when you turned my way.” “ Well. never betray me, but stick to your resolve to go away, for if you remain you may get into more serious trouble than you think.” “Don’t worry; I’m going. I’ll get leave out after you go, and that’ll be thelast they’ll ever see. of yours truly. Go, now. quick, and don’t be seen, or you may not get away," He had received his keys back aga’n. and now he opened the door and the woman whisked out quickly and was gone. “ That woman wasn’t any fool,” he said to himself. “She wasn’t afraid to tell me she’d left poison with the prisoner, after she had me in her power; she knowed I daresnft tell on him." He walked along through the dismal cor- ridor, taking no precaution now to be silent, and when he was passing Gerredson‘s cell the prismter called to him. “ What‘s wanted ‘2" the keeper demanded. “ Was I dreaming?” was asked, “or did some one come in here a moment ago?” “I guess you must been dreaming." the keeper answered, but smiling within himself at the thin deception. “Yes, it must have been a dream," Ger- redson carried it. on. “I thought my mother came in to see me. It. was a dream I had, of course. How could any one get in?" “That’s what’s the matter; could any one get in? Better go back to sleep again and think no more about it. It would be as hard a matter for any one to get in as it would be for you to get out.’ So saying. the traitor passed on, leaving Gerredson puzzled. ' CHAPTER VII. INQUEs'r AND VERDICT. TIIE result of the inquest had been a fore- gone conclusion from the time when the facts were first made known. _ It was a great occasion, and the double parlors of the house were packed as full of people as could be allowed, while the street in front was almost black. There were reporters from all the papers in the city. detectives in disguise, both police and private, and many friends of the family. Besides these were a great many drawn by morbid curiosity. Only for Cranford. the butler, aided by the police, the house would have been ever- run, .nd in fact it had required their be“! ~ / r .t‘ w. ,‘r .3“ ., . quiry, at that time?” r The, Round-About—‘I‘own efforts to turn back some of those who had been determined to enter regardless of the ; fact that they had no claim whatever to the , right to do so. . Reporters, generally, had been admitted, , for Mr. Kassinger now courted the fullest| and fairest investigation, determined that the ! truth should be brought to light if pOssible and the guilty person punished for the hein- 1 ous deed. l \Villiam Gerredson, the prisoner, was there ‘ in the hands of the detective-sergeant and , two men, looking pale and haggard but ' facing everybody with steady look and unfal-,, tcring mien. In the face of the proofs against him, gen- ' erally known, this was taken to be sheer bravado, while his pale, drawn countenance , told against his inuocent’:e. .Iohu Austin, his rival, too, was there, like- wise pale, but appearing not a little uneasy in manner or demeanor. He was about twenty-four years of age, l with something of the air of a Iiowery “ gen. tleman ” clinging to him in spite of the fact ; that. he had a foothold in better society than ‘ could be found there. \Vhen the coroner had obtained his jury, and all things were ready, the first witness called to the stand was Theresa Kas- singer. Shc had the sympathy of all as she rose and took her place in the witness’s chair. Her testimony was simple and direct, as was also that of the other members of the household who followed her. Needless to repeat it, since it is already known in sub- stance. Finally the prisoner was called, and every person in the room lent close attention. I ” At what time did you leave this house night before last?" he was asked. “ A little after eleven o’clock, air,” the firm and steady response was given. “ How did you leave the subject of this in- “She was standing by the table, very pale and very angry.” “ Did she bid you good-night?" “She did not. She refuscd to speak for some moments, and I left her id‘silence and went home." “ You‘had quarreled with her?" “ Yes.” “ What was the cause of that quarrel?” Here the priSOner told briefly the story of the‘ rivalry of John Awstin, telling how the' quarrel had commtlncegand how it had pro- gressed to its climax—that was. to a point where Miss Kassinger ordered him to leave her presence and he obeyed. “Can you explain how this dagger, ad- mitted to be yours, came to he the weapon used?" " I can not, sir." “ Can you tell us how the blood came to be on your coat, blood which you were in the act of washing off when you were ar- rested?" “ I cannot." “You do admit that the dagger and the coat are yours?" “ I do!" peremptorily. The next witness called to the stand was the rival lover, John Awstin. He took his place with much nervousness of manner. apparently unaccustomed to any- thing of the kind, which would account for it, perhaps. After the preliminary questions had been asked, he told what he knew about the mat- ter. very briefl —that he had reason to be- lieve that he imself had been the favored suitor, and that Miss Kasslnger had feared Gerredson. “What reason have you for thinking she feared him?" the coroner asked " From what she told me. In a conversa- tion with her, she said—" “' Mr. Coroner, I object!" The voice, clear, bold. firm, and strong, interrupting at that point, came from near the center of the room, and every eye was turned in that direction. . A man was seen standing upon his feet, a oung man of medium height and muscular build with dark hair, eyes, and complexron; a man whose manner was perfectly cool and easy. as he faced the coroner and the jury. “ Who are you, sir? and what is the point of objection you raise ?” the coroner de- manded. 'all. sir. 'my death, of course, whatever was left “My name is John Gale, sir, a lawyer by profession,” was the. Calm response. “ The point of objection I raise is, that the law does I not permit a witness to testify as to conver- sation held with a deceased person.” “ But, by what right do you raiSe your ob- jeetion here? This is an inquest, and not a trial. ’ “To show your jury that they have no right to give weight to such te~timony, is 1 am going to defend the prisoner, if he is held for trial, sir.” “That will be the proper time, then, for you to make yourself heard," said the coro- ner, with a showing of dignity. “I am the coroner, and my duty is to throw all the1 ; light possible upon this matter, hence I shall i , take me away,” the prisoner then made 5 known. allow the witness to proceed with what he was about to say." The lawyer sat down, and the coroner bade the witness go on. “I was going to say, sir,” Awstin con- tinued, “that in a conversation with her only i a few (lays ago she told me that Gerredson had vowed he would kill her it" she did not discard me, and——” “That is a lie, you rascal!’ the prisoner exclaimed, hotly. “1 neVer made such a threat! ’ “It is not a lie, so far as [am concerned," was the spirited rejoinder;“ and I cannot be- lieve that Beatrice Kassinger would tell such a faISehood.” “Can you prove that conversation by wit~ nesses?" asked one of the jury. “ No; it was in private,” was the answer. i Awstin was dismissed, at that, and the last I witness, Mr. Kassinger, was called. He was in his wheeled chair, and was not a required to be moved from the place where his chair was stationed. Numerous questions were put to him. to, all of which he answered promptly an] with f all apparent frankness. He courted the full- ' est investigation. “Who profits most by the death of your a daughter, sir?” the coroner inquired. “ No one profits by her death, sir,”wss the I answer. “I mean financially.” “So I understood you to mean. Her death brings little profit to any one, for my fortune has been on the wane for years. At would have been divided between her and her sister." “ Then your remaining daughteris the one who really profits most, in the way of money, by this untimely death." “ Oh! this is terrible, terriblel-" cried Ther- esa. covering her face with her hands. “As though I would not give all my OWn fortune to bring Beatrice back again, if it could be done!” “ You don‘t understand the situation. sir.” said Mr Kassinger. “Myliving daughter is worth far more than I am worth myself to- day. One of her godmothers—thc one for Whom she was named, at death. left hera vast fortune in her own right. She, rcallv, has kept up our establishment for years " ~ " Why need you let that out, papa?” the girl asked “The truth is what's wanted," the father responded, “ and that is the truth, Theresa.” “Yes, what we want is light. and all we can get of it." the coroner added to that. “ Ian you throw any more light upon it, Mr. Kassinger?" “I fail to see where. Ihave been able to shed any at all, so far,” was the response. “There is nothing further I can think of to tell. I must say, though, in spite of all the proof, that it is hard for me to think Mr. Ger- redson guilty.” Almost everybody looked at the old man in surprise, at that. It seemed strange that such a statement should be made, when the prisoner’s guilt was St) patent to everybody else. , “I thank you for your words, sir," the prisoner spoke up, his voice shaking for the first time. “I am innocent, sir; before God and man Isrrear it!” He said it with much earnestness of man- ner, and it was taken at once as further proof against him—an effort to work upon the sympathies of his hearers by his dramatic vehemencc. There the inquest closed, and the case went to the jury. ..~,~ (.4. u...“ ... .n—“m a: port. Preparations were being made for them to '7 retire to another room, when the foreman announced that their verdict was ready. Order was called immediately, and the ver- diet was handed iii—that, Beatrice KaSsinger had come to her death by a, dagger in the hand of her lorer, \Villiani Gerredson—held to Illl\\\'(‘l' for the crime. lt was what had been expected, as said. The result hazl been a foregone conclusion from the very start. The prisoner merely dropped his head loWer, sorrmvfully, saying nothing. When the crowd had gone out, the. detecv tire-sergeant tapped him on the shoulder, savingz—- V“ Come!" “ I have one request to make before you “I would like to see the body of the-poor victim of this terrible crime.” The detective-sergeant looked at Mr. Kas- singer questioningly. “ His request shall be granted,” the sor— ‘ rowing fatherdeclared promptly. “He shall not be denied, for by his words he has im- pressed me even more strongly that he is in— nocent of this awful crime.” The butler was directed to wheel Mr. Kassinger into the room where the hodv lay, and the officers were told to follow with the prisoner. The body was lying on a table, awaitin further the care of the undertaker who ha charge of it, and when the COVer was drawn i away from the dead face the prisoner broke dorvn, Weeping aloud. He pressed kiss after kiss upon the cold, white forehead, finally turning away with a heavy moan. “ I would have laid dewn my life for her, willingly,” he declared sadly. “ I am inno- cent of her blood. May God bring the truth to light, placing the crime where it rightful- ly belongs.” He was taken away then, and the solemn hush once more fell over that sorrowing household. One man remained behind when all the others had gone, and this one was John Gale. the lawyer. He desired a talk with Mr. Kassinger, privately. and making ,* known his request to the butler, was taken up to the invalid gentleman’s private room. CHAPTER VIII. 'rnE noun'rs ALL REMOVED. Jonx GALE found the invalid gentleman and his daughter together in the mom. the daughter seated upon a stool at her father's feet. fondling his hand, as washer habit. “ You will. I am sure, sir, pardon the im- pertinence of a stranger, under the circum- stances,” the lawyer spoke “I heard you declare your belief in the innocenco of Mr. Gerredson and as that is my own belief, too, I desire to have a talk with you about the matter.” “What is your object?" Mr. Kassinger inquired. “To solve the mystery, if it lies in my power to do it,” was the answer. “ You are, then, a detective?" “No, a lawyer, but mv intention is to assume the role of detective in this instance, in the interest of justice.” “ We are only too glad to welcome your service, sir, I am sure, spoke up the daughter. “If Mr. Gerredson is innocent. he must be cleared. But, the proof is most damaging.” “I must admit it is,” the lawyer agreed, and he said it seriouslyenough. ‘ But there are some points which stand out boldly in his favor. nCVt-rtheless. ln my own mind I am satisfied that William Gerredson is as inno- cent of the crime as am 1 mvself." ' “ How came you to be interested in the case 7” asked Mr. Kassinger., “That can be briefly told, sir. Will Ger- redson and I were class-mates and chunzs at school. I had not seen him since we left school until to-day. leame from the West yesterda ', went to call on him this morning, and then heard of his arrest for this terrible crime. Immediately I decided to set to work 1n his behalf, for I was sure he must be in- nocent, and am more than ready to try to prove it.” “I noticed that he started quickly, when he heard your name at the inquest, and that for a second his face lighted up,” observed , Theresa. a.“ Yes, for my coming was a surpvi-e to him. Poor fellow! There is proof 0.0th I ._,, , ' "h _ ._ r. . ' V,“ 39.7, > __ ,fl. 8 ,_.-..~— 7. .. a“, {The Round-About—Town Sport. to hang him a dozen times over, but in spite I hope that. he can tell me something that will of it all I feel sure of his entire innocence. l start me upon the right track.” His big heart is as true and tender as a wo- man‘s; I was not his constant companion four years without learning his true charac- ter. I am ready to stake my life that VVil- liam Gerredson never committed the crime with which he is charged. and 1 atn going to establish his innocence if I can}? “God speed you in the task!" spoke Mr. Kassinger, fervently “ But, how will it be possible to overthrow the terrible circumstantial evidence that stands arrayed against him?” asked Theresa. "Impossible to say, at this time," the law- yer answered. “ You say some points stand out boldly in his favor.” “Yes, that is true.” “Will you mention them, sir?" “ There is no reason why I should not do so, here among ourselves. It will be well to keep it secret, however.” “Have no fears on that score, sir," assured Mr. Kassinger. “ My daughter and I are only too eager to have the mystery cleared up, and whatever you say will never be breathed aloud.” “Well, here are the points: Supposing him guilty, he has done more than any one else to fasten the crime upon himself. The most asinine piece of folly of all was the leaving of the dagger in the body. Then, his being unable to explain how the blood came upon his coat. A guilty man would have invented some excuse for that, no mat- ter how flimsy.” “Good points, truly,” agreed Mr. Kassin- ger. “ I had not thought of them." “Supposing him guilty. mind you,” said the young lawyer, “which I do not for one moment believe.” “We understand that, of course," spoke Theresa. “Supposing him guilty, are not these very points you mention even more conclusive proof of his guilt? If he did the deed it must have been in a moment of ex- treme passion.” “ Unless Will Gerredson has changed wen— derfully since I knew him intimately, he was not the person to be thrown into a state of passion so extreme as this would indicate. That he was angry, hoWever, and that he anti your sister quarreled, is not to be questioned; he admits it.” ' “Like you, sir, I am onlyr supposing him guilty. God knows I woud not open my lips like this to any one who was not his friend. But,.supposing he did give way to an almost insane rage, and do the deed, is if not likely that he would he so horrified at what he had done that he would go away as guickly as possible and never think about the agger?’ “That is plausible, I must admit, suppos- ing for the moment that it may have been as you suggest.” The lawy er had fixed his gaze upon the floor. and his brows contracted as he bent his mind to the study of the new point that had been raised. “It looks dark. terribly dark,” he mused aloud. “Still, I will not believe him guilty until I hear him Confess it with his own lips. He 113.8 declared his innocence, and I believe him. ” Of course, sir," Theresa hastened to add, “ we only hope you can prove him innocent; but, if he did do the deed, he must suffer for it. W'hile we Welcome your aid in the task of solving the mystery, you must not allow your friendship for the prisoner to stand in the way of justice.” “ It shall not.” “What my daughter has said I can ap- prove,” said Mr. Kassinger. “This awful crime must be avenged, no matter where the blow fails. I can easily imagine, sir, that if you become convinced that Gerredson did do the deed, you will drop the case and leave him to his fate.” “ I certainly would not work to bring him to his death. If it comes to that, the prose- cution will have no need for any assistance from me. But, as I said. only a. confesflion front his own lips will convince me of his guilt. for, even as it stands at resent, the proof against him could not we l be darker \or more damning than it is. I almost trem- ble at the task before me." “Of course on intend to visit him.” “ At the ear iest possible moment. I have “It is hardly likely, or he would have mentioned it at the inquest, one would nat urally think. But, as papa has said, God speed you in what you have undertaken. If he is innocent, he tnust be saved.” “ Now, is there any one else upon whom suspicion can rest?" “There is no one, sir,” answered the in- valid father. “I have thought well on that point.” “ We know the proof against Gerredson is so overwhelming that it is likely to cast into complete obscurity some minor circumstance that might lead us to the truth of the mys- tery, could it be brought. to light." “Like papa, I can think of nothing that will direct suspicion to any one but him,” affirmed Theresa. “ As you say, the awful proofsthrow everything else into the shade so far that it is almost impossible to look be- yond them. \Vho would have dreamed that an arrest could have followed so quickly the discovery of the crime, and Last of all the arrest of him?“ There was further talk among the three, but nothing new was brought out, and final- ly the lawyer took his leave. “ Papa, what do you think of that man asked ’l‘heresa, when he had gone. “ I think he is an honest man, my child, one who is thoroughly in earnest in the work he is undertaking.” “Which I hope he is.” “ Then you doubt him?" “I hardly know, papa. - One thing. I think he will let his friendship stand in the way of justice, if opportunity offers.” “ He can hardly do anything to defeat justice, my child. Whatever he does he will have to do openly, and unless other evidence is produced to counterbalance these terrible proofs. Gerredson is doomed.” “And the proofs are not all in, either, ,apa." “ What do you m'ean, Theresa?" “I have found something that is still more damaging to Gerredson." “What have you found? Tell me what it is,” eagerly. " Where (lid you discover it? Why did you not produce it at the inquest? it was no time for holding anything back, Theresa.” “I did not find it till after the inquest, papa. It is a scrap of paper, and I found it in Beatrice‘s waste-paper bag. The thought came to me to look and see what might be there, and I found this almost immediately. It is a note she must have started to write.” “ But, what is it ‘?—what is it?" She had taken a wrinkled half-sheet of paper from her pocket as she spoke. “ It is addressed to John Awstin. and it supports the testimony he gave. at the in- quest which that man wanted to bar out. Read it for yourself.” Mr. Kassinger had put on his glasses, and was holding out, his hand to receive the pa- per. llc took it, and in eager anti trembling haste read it. It was worded thus: 5)" “ Dma JOHN:— “ You must be on your guard against W. G. lie is getting desperate. lie has even gone so far as to threaten my life if I do not give you up for him. Be very careful and very watchful for yourself; 1 do not think he would harm me. He is coming—” There the writing broke off abruptly, and that was all. “This is terrible evidencc,” admitted Mr. Kassinger. “There seems to be no doubt whatever of his guilt; now. The jury will render a verdict against him without leaving the court-room. This is Beatrice’s writing, any one who knew her hand can swear to that. It is damning evidence—alas for it!” “The hand of Providence seems to be in it,” said the girl, devoutly. “That man would have closed Mr. Awstin’s lips regard- ing what ‘Beatrice had told him, and no doubt it will be barred out at the trial, but here is the same thin in writing, and no one can dispute it. Whle it is terrible to say so. papa, I now feel sure Gerredson is guilty.” ' “And this would seem to show that the crime was premeditated.” “The dag er certainly is proof enough that he came ere prepared to do the deed. ' “ Then why, in the name of heavens, did I t M r r; V . ,3: may... . r~ up .. he leave the dagger where he did, to direct suspicion against himself immediately?” " Who can say? Maybe some noise startled him, and he had to make his escape in all haste immediately after striking the blow. No doubt he will explain all when he con- fesses.” “He must be guilty; there can no longer be any doubt. I wish you had shown this paper when that young man was here; it would have Set him right without further trouble. William Gerredson a murderer—is it possible ‘Z—can it be possrble? Great ,Iieavensl it is a terrible thought!” CHAPTER IX. FRIEND rro FRIEND. FROM the Kassinger residence John Gale went direct to the prison where the accused man had been lodged. Those familiar about the place could tell at a glance that he was a stranger there, but they could not help recognizing, too, that he was a pretty cool and self-possessed one. This latter was tnade still more clear when he stepped up and addressed one of the officials of the place. “ 1 want to see your latest prisoner, unless you have one later than William Gerredson.” IIis demand was as cool and easy as his appearance and manner. “ Who are you?" was asked. “ John Gale, lawyer. I am going to tiefzind Gerredson when his case comes to tria ." “ Oh! If that is the case, we’ll let yen in, of course. You are a stranger, Mr. Gale; don’t think you have ever been here before. Where do you swing your shingle, if I may ask ‘3" “ You’ll find it dangling in Kearney street, San Francisco.” As he spoke, the young lawyer produced a card and handed it to the prison oflicial. “Ila! So. you are from away out there, are you? No wonder I didn’t recognize you at sight. Personal friend to the prisoner, I take it, thm, seeing you are here so prompt after the verdict. Seems like a pretty clear ea -c against. him, from all accounts.” “ Seems that way, yes, at present. Yes, I‘m a friend, and if there’s a chance to prove him innocent I’m going to do it. I’m going to nntke a fight for him, anyhow, I promise you. ’ “That’s right; the friend in need’s the ft icnd indeed. Here's vour pass; go right in, Mr. Gale.” The young lawyerhad met the official half- way in his free and friendly manner of draw- ingr him out, which Gale had seen through plainly enough, and had tnade an easy task for him. Taking the pass. he turned away and was soon eond teted to the cell in which Gerred- son was incarcerated. The prisoner was sitting on his bed, his head held between his hands, but he looked up as the coming footsteps stopped at his door, and at sight of Gale, sprung to his feet. ' As soon as the door was opened, the two elas )ed hands warmly. “ ’m glad to see you, ole. boy, but sorr to find you in such a deuced fix as this," ale greeted. “ And so am I glad to see you, John,” the prisoner returned. “It was a big surprise to me when I heard your familiar voice at the inquest. I knew you’d come here as soon as you could.” They sat down for a talk. “\Vell, now for the business in hand,” said the lawyer, in a businesslike way, when they had made a hasty exchange of experiences since they had last seen each other. “You say you are innocent of. tlus crime.” “As innocent as you are, John.” “ And you swear it—to me, your old-time friend ?" “I do, and most solemnly. only the truth. I’m innocent.” “That settles it, and l believe you. Now the next thing is to prove it to the world.” ’ “And it looks as though that is not going to be an easy thing to do, John. See how ’ quiifikly’ the coroner’s jury decided that I was gu v. ' “ You must help me to prove it for you. I have told " 55'ma,:yoa‘ z ‘ “faded nbothh “,9, .1 I’m going to play the detective in your be- half: and youmust give me the clew. I have had a littlerxperience in this line.” “Would that 1 could place the clue in your hands—the clue to the murderer, I mean. ’ ‘ “ That is what you must do, Will." “It is what I can‘t do.” “ Have you no suspicion how that dagger came to be missing out of your room, as you told at the inquest?’ “Not the slightest, except that it must, have been taken by somebody at some time when I was absent, But by whom I cannot say—can't even suspect." “ Have you been able to guess yet how the blood came to be on your coat? it" you could only explain that point satisfactorily, it would go a long way in your favor, you know." v “ It‘s rather late now. John. Anythingl might say now would be considered a clever invention. you see." “ I know it; but, if you. could, onLy guess the truth—” ' “But I can't. -I have racked my brain trying to solve that part of the mystery, but al in vain." “ Well, now, see here: IIaVe you any foe who might. want to place you in just such a fix as this? Would not that fellow Awstin be capable of doing such a thing?" ‘ “He is my only t'0e, far as i know, but I I do not think he is bad‘enough to do a deed like this. If he wanted to kill, why did he not kill me? No, I am not willing to believe it of him.” “'Why not?" - t.“ Well, he loved Beatrice” “And may have killed her to cheat your love". _ , " Cnt‘ofl his nose to spite my face, eh? I don't believe it." “ You put it in a atrangeway; but} on know the man and I’ll accept your opi’ 0n., Who, then, did kill the lady?” “ I have not the slightest suspicion, John. ‘ It is the most profound mystery I evdr heard of. It has dach me, almost. I can hardly urealize the terrible position I am in." “And it is just as bad as it can be, Will. You are as, good as executed, unless we can ~ ut this~crime where it belongs. You can ' v not: for: no help, from the police, for tin-:5 have dune'thclr duty in. arreati on, will look no further. “3 y the prosecutor to convict you. “I know it.” ‘ "You can, though, employ a private de- tective." “Do you suppose one would take hold of the case with any heart in it, with everything against me as it is t" . “Are on willing to trust your case in my mini? “mm mug J h v V "' one ' jaw , o my ouare m _ believe In: innocent, and I end trust on." “I ave not for tten the time you saved my life at school, ill. and now is my chance mto repay the debt perhaps. I’ll save you it it lies in my power to do it. ', every energy to the work.” I’ll devote my The ner d the right hand of his gowx: and pressed it Zervcnt- ly, saying: “John, God bless you! You are the only friend upon whom [can rely in this time of - danger and trial I gladly accept what you offer, and once more I swear to you by all I t I am an innocent man." con, ' Nothing but your a,“ m n ,can'chan my belief, it“ «,5? make. I may fail in that» 11mm; 1 dare not promise anything; ,butgl‘go ' thatI will devote all myenergiec tot , work Were 1119-” r‘ ' - 2 "Another pressure of hands sealed the agreement. ‘ . “I have one favOr to ask, DOW. Will.” the Lawyer Detective went on to say. . “And you have only to ask "3. 88 you ought to know. What sit?" " I want to lod e in your rooms.” ‘ ‘ “Youjahall; Iere are my keya— No, ' the warden has them; forgot that for the moment. No matter. I will give you an wafer-«them. and will write you a letter of ‘: ., notionto the family." ‘ - “i . S‘Itma'y‘not amount to led maritime; but I’ll it It oniyfiunain‘sitor; stolen dagger, if p03sible." semething.” ‘ , “ The one terribly bad thing was this blood on your coat. Only for that it might be, easier to clear you.” discow-r 1mm it came there. point upon which the whole matter will hinge, I am certain. Hare you seen Mr. Kassingcr?" “Yes. and his daughter, too. They lute confront them iike mountains.” “ Yes, yes, I am guilty in the sight of all, I know. ’ - ' 'l‘heir conversation. lasted an hour or lon- ger. but try as he would the Lawyer Detective could get hold of no point upon which to be» gin his task. It was evident enhugh that Gerredson knew absolutely nothing about the crime, that was —-evident enough to his friend, and (idle had 'no more to Work upon than he had when he came. .Finally he was ready to take his leave. “But, the keys—-tlie letter of introduc- tion?” he suddenly recollectcd. " We had forgotten them, Will.” “ That’s true. Have you paper and pencil with you? If not—~—" “ Yes, here are both." The prisoner,wrote first 'an order to the warden for the delivery of his keys to his friendmand «then a letter of introduction to his landlady, a Mrs. Carvingham, of whom he said: ' widow and in reduced circumstances. has a charming daughter. by the way, John. They-will receive you well when they know "hands. bowinahis head in silent anguish. “Another i your behalf, if need be ?" “ Impossible to tell,” was the sad response. “When a fellow gets in a fix of this kind, friends are generally few. 51 again.” live prearrath them rlaon. ’One thing thcii“ ' terious woman on the the occasion of his next visrt to his cell. - CHAPTER X. - 'rm'r morva LAWYER'B rasx nmvu. himae‘lf,aahe‘-waiked away-fromvthe - ‘ n. “In ion of .Will‘s room and may will bringthetrut toll ht. JohnG'ile, you have a task to try your 3 ill.” First going to his hotel for his personal ef- fects, he proceeded thence to the cod-look- ing house on the quiet street w ere Mrs. Melina Garvin; ham kept a few select and very exclusive odgers. . rs. Carvingbam was one of those unfor- tunate ladies who, by the untimely (incense .of her husband, lad become suddenly reduced hiflcumatanm’.‘ A by birth, it‘was a rheavy’blow, yfor. wbén her. husband’s were 8m“? her house. - A 1 This, naturally, was a crusherto her do, but she made her house so very Halli-give that the force of the fall was mitigated to a certain degree. ' She had but one child, Julia by name, then onlya little girl, but now a young lady in her twenty second year, pretty and accomplished. When the Lawyer Detective rung the'bell, glgmr'was opened by a cappedand aproned r . ,., r anyhow. I want" to get on track of that “ If you can only do that it may lead to “ int, the blood was there, and you must That is the to believe you guilty, but the terrible proofs “She has been wealthy, but is now 3 She you are my friend—that is——— But, my God! forget that I am now branded a murderer!” The prisoner covered his face- with his lag; Will," said. the friend in need: “Can you name any'truc and tried friends in whom‘I can place confidence, in I’ll wait and see how many remain true, before I name any.” “ Very well; I will not press you on that ;filint now. And now, keep upyour courage “ Audibthéyggated, and the Lawyer Detec- not told him, and that was about the‘viait or the an. .revior‘tcj’mphti" ind" her leaving poison in h a hands. ‘ Whyhe' had not «disclosed that, he could not haVe ex- plained; but, thinking it well over, he had decided to keep it to himself for the time be- ing. ’ Perhaps he would tell Gale about it on “ Now for it, ” the Lawyer Detective said to . 'eys. 1. e :able to ct hold of some clue that , _' enameled littlejcft sewn" There wasibutdte and; to heard-int. the she could 866.3183 that“ wach takelodgers. and he distinctly handled”: “03 and rustle of papers. ‘ .r ~~ . “ Idesiretosee Mrs. Carvingham,” he made known. “What name, please?" the maid inquired.“ Gale had no cards, save a few of his home bus'ness cards, so he presented one of these. and waited in the hall while the girl delivered it. The maid scon returned and admitted him into the reception-room, saying her mistress would shortly favor him with her presume. In a little time she put in her appearance. She was very dignified. Hhe found the caller standing, awaiting her, and glancing at the card in her hand: she queried: ~ “ .\[r. .lohn htle?" ._ The Lawyt r Ut'it‘tzth‘t‘ bowed acknowledg- " ment, responding in suitable Words, and suc- ceeded in making a good impression upon the lady at the start, , “Pray be seated, sir,“ she invited. “As you are a stranger tome. I presume your call is in the nature of bliRllll‘SS—r-Sllfe you have made knowu your profession by your card.” I , ' “I bring a letter of introduc'ion to you. madam, which kindly allow me to present.” He rose and extended, the letter with a bow. . ,.. -. Mrs. Carvingham adjusted her glasses, and , taking the sheet from its unsealed envelope, ; read it. "From Mr. Gerredsonf" she exclaimed; .. “ Yes, madam. I am his friend, who have V, undertaken the task of proving his innocenee.‘ of the crime of which he stands accused.” , “Is it possible? Why, he desires the to, surrender his room.to you, sir. freely“. fully, to occupy and to hold the same as. though ypu were he himself. This is a strange request, trulv.” -‘ ~ " “He has left it for me to explainmore ., fully, madam. lie and I were college‘chumS; and almost like brothers. He desires mefio take charge of his effects, keeping his room until his fate is decided one way or the other.f As a law er, I have charge of his case.” “ Has 6 given you his keys, sirt”. , , _ “ As you sec.. madam; not only the keys-to his room and the street door, but tabla trunks; and drawersas well.” . . ‘. I, x ,‘ “That isall I can ask. If he has 1W you thus far, there is no reason why Inhou ' not trust you. The room is at yourservio'e Mr. Gale. Poor Mr. Gerredaon, he is a. tgrrible position." I - f " What do you think about it, Carvingham?" . ' “Why, sir, one is forced to thiukaillfl guilty in spite of one‘s self. though L'Wfiula _, never have thought it of him." v , ' _.“ I-am'one who does not think hint. t3? : madam: on the contrary, I believe con ‘ ly in hiscntire innocence. I am glad» hi? *- hear you say you would never have , it of him.” “ But how—" “ It is useless to question at p , Corvingham. The proofs are i- " , damslgg, but I hope to overt-ind w" - “I .. “ Innly hope you can do 06, sizing , your have-cpoken so confidently, I am . caumgeddo hope. It seems so im ” that such a gentleman as Mr. 'Ge ,, could be guilty of so terrible a deed: ‘ ‘ the terrible proofs} “ He is innocent, madam. be at: And now, if you please, Iwill take of th; room.’ 1 I A “ es, certain . will 0‘ . myself, Mr. Golgi” 3'" I -She rose and led the way i, when she stopped newel‘Whiie Gale took uphic- Brim ‘ preceded harm ' mm 7 Attire headpf ‘ e‘fllghthestep .tho-w'oma'n to lead the way did, conducting him to the d front’rocm; taking hold of the door and walk straight in. ' The door however, to here ,. was Insurned, and she . it With not a little force. \v ' ‘1 ' The Lawyer Dreaming” was at the. door about as flow hastily within. withthe 11' I it I “ Why. write. 1 ringham med total,“ “are It“ ‘ .« 1‘ it’d ‘3" . L." .‘A ."~J‘ H n.1, -’ . «I... . ., sonar. .uhfi ‘ ‘ " ‘ “9513*. r‘ ‘3.- I ‘10 " The Road-AbouteTown Sport. ? I is in this room?"aloud. “Open this door immediately. Sarah, is it you? Open the door right away. By what right have you bolted it?” “It is not Sarah, but I, mamma,” a SW(et voice answered. “I was just putting things in perfect order, that was all—" She opened the door while speaking, and at sight of a stranger, stopped short in what she was saying, the blood mounting to her . face, and she was abaslicd and confused. The Lawyer Detective saw Mrs. Carving- ham give her a keen, searching look. “But, why did you bolt the door?” the mother asked. “Why, you know how abrupt Sarah is. mamma, and I merely slipped the little bolt against her. I was just done when you came.” This she said easily and smilingly, and with a cold apology for a courtesy to the stranger, was about to go away when Mrs. Carvinghain detained her further, saying: “One moment, Julia. Let me’ introduce Mr. Gale, Mr. Geri‘edson's friend and law- yer, who is going to oCcupy this room in the absence of Mr. Gerredson. Mr. Gale, this is my daughter.” The introduction was briefly but suitably acknowledged, and the young lady Went away immediately afterward apparently even more confused than she had been at being discovered in the room at first. The Lawyer Detective asked himself what it all meant. “This is the room, Mr. Gale," the woman went on to say. “Everything is just as Mr. Gerredson left it, exce t that it has been set in order, as you see. give it over to you as he has requested.” “ Thank ou,” Gale said, settin down his grip. “If am a little irregular in my com- ings and goings, think nothing of that, niad- am. The task I have undertaken is one cal- culated to demand all my time and attention, and Ishall probably be in and out at all hours.” “ I can understand that, sir. Mr. Gerred- son’s introduction is sufficient guarantee for your conduct, and that is the important thing. My house, as he must have informed you, is exclusive, very." “Yes, I understand all about that, Mrs. Carvingham. It is just such as I would seek as a matter of choice. You need have no apprehension " So he bowed her out politely, and closed and bolted the door when she had taken her leave. - “ Now, what means this?" he demanded of himself as he looked around the room with searching scrutiny. “ What was that young lady doing in here? What were the papers I heard her handling?” The room seemed to be in perfect order, and was, and no papers were anywhere to be seen. Crossing the floor, the Lawyer Detective took another surVey from the opposite side, and immediately an exclamation rose to his 11 s. p“ This is not like Will Gerredson,” he said to himself. “ IIis bump of order was big at school, and he had a place for everythingr and everything in its place. No paper was ever seen protruding from his. trunk like this.” There were two trunks, placed along the wall behind the door, and from under the ' lid of one the corner Of a sheet of paper was n sticking. Gale stepped forward immediately and tried the lid to see if it was locked. It was not locked, but opened to his easy effort. There was disclosed a lot of letters and apers, all in disorder, as though they had een taken up in haste and thrown into the trunk. “This explains it," the Lawyer Detective said. “ Isee it all now. She has been going through this trunk, as they say, and was probably seated here in front of it with these papers in her lap. When the door was tried .ghe sprung up and dumped them back into the trunk with haste and closed down the lid. She had not the time to try to lock it again. What was she after?” , He scratched his head in a thoughtful wa . . 3’I’ll investi te this thing a little my- self," he decidefi. “ I’ll take a look at these papers, and if she had not found what she was after when she was interrupted, I may find it.” Drawing up a chair he sat down before the trunk and began to examine the letters and papers one by one. “Some of my own letters among others,” he observed, as he came across them. “ A great follow for preserving letters and papers. l’ll bet he hasn‘t made a burning in five years. So much the better, for right here I may get on the track of the mystery of the murder." As he continued his investigation, he was busy in thought trying to conceive why the young woman had been in that room—rather what she had been searching for among these papers. It was easy to trace just how far her inves- tigation had progressed, for the letters and papers themselves revealed whether they had been opened or not. Those she had not yet touched were still pressed flat and firm; the others were more loose and bulky. Gale was a close observer, and it was his business to be a close. observer now, if ever. He noticed thatonly such letters as appeared to be in a female hand had the appearance of having been opened and read; Others had merely been glanced at. It was easy to note the dill'erenee, as hinted or explained, in the preceding paragraph. And with this dis- covery came a new thought. He believed the girl loved Gerredson, and that a spit it of jealousy had been at the bot- tom of her stooping to the business of read- ing his letters. There was Something deeper than that, however, as he was yet to find. And when at length he discovered a letter written to Gerredson by herself, a sudden revelation of a new motive for the dark crime broke upon him. IVas it possible that this fair young woman had done the deed? CHAPTER XI. MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. IN the mean time, as soon as Mrs. Carving- ham had left the room, she had sought her daughter. “Julia,” she demanded, “ what in the world were you doing in that room with the door locked? I was never so mortified in all my life!" “ Why, mamma, did I not tell on what I was doing there?‘.’ was the bol counter~ question. “I was putting things in per- fect order, for no telling who would come to see that room.” “ And some one did come, at a very unex- pected time for you, my child, and one upon a far different errand from that of the many reporters who have been bothering us lately. I demand to know what you were doing there, for I distinctly heard papers rattle.” “ You heard papers?” “Positively. ’ “Well, I cannot explain, mamma. But, say,do you think this Mr. Gale a proper per- son?” “ He brou ht a letter from Mr. Gerredson, and has all his keys, so there can be no doubt concerning his right to take charge of the room, that I can see.” “The thought has come to me that he might be one of those dreadful detectives who had come merely to prowl around and learn allhc could. But you say he has all of Mr. Gerrcdson’s keys?’ u ch.i) . “Then he will discover—" ' “Discover what? What are you talking about, Julia?" “ I must go to that room and have a pla'n talk with this man immediately, mamma. I must—" "You shall do nothing of the kind, las- sure on. A pretty manner for you to com— romise yourself, truly! But, I demand to ignow what all this means.” “I cannot tell you, mamma, I cannot tell you; forgive me, but I positively cannot tell you. I must see this man, I must confess to him what I cannot tell you—at any rate not now—” ~ “Merciful goodness! J ulia Carvingham, have on taken leave of our senses? You would make a confessio . to this stranger which you cannot make to your own mother? What am I to think of you. anyhow? You shall tell me what all this mystery is. and that at once.” “I’ cannot tell you. momma—I positiVely will not tell you, so do net press me.” “Then you certainly shall not see this man.” “I tell you 1 must!” “You shall not! What is more, I'll dis- miss him from the house'immetiiately, and so put him out of your reach. A pretty pass! that my daughter would confess some- thing to an utter stranger that she dare not tell her mother; a pretty pass, trulyl” “But, mamma, you do not—you cannot understand; and—" “Of course I do not understand; how can I?" “And I dare not tell you. Oh! I wish I were dead!” She sunk back in her chair, covering her face with her hands, and the mother could only stare at her. “You say he is Mr. Gerredson‘s friend?” the girl presently demanded. “ You say he is going to try to prove him innocent of this terrible crime with which he is charged?" “Yes, so I said,” stiflly. “Then you must not dismiss him from the house. Rather, let us lend him all the aid we can.” “Julia Carvinghaml I believe that some- thing I liavc been suspecting for some time is true—that you love William Gerredson l” “ Mamma, Ido .”’ “And you a Carvinghaml There is all the more r‘ttson why I should demand to know “by you were in that room, and what you were doing.” “ And all the more reason why I should not tell you, mamma. It is a secret I desire to keep all to myself, and it is for that reason I desire to see this man to make a strange request of him.” “ Julia Carvinghaml Are you not aware that you may be running yourself into n H danger! {I “Danger?” “Yes. You admit that you love Gerred- son, and if that‘s so you were the rival of this young woman who has been murdered. What if some circumstance should bring the crime-around to you ?” The girl was upon her feet in an instant, ‘ pale as death. “ That is impossible," she gasped. “ You do not think such a thing possible, do you, mamma?” Mrs. Carvingham gave a shrug of the shoulders. “How can I tell,” she answered, “ when you will not confide in me?” “But, no, it is impossible,” the girl said more calmly. “ No one could for a moment suspect me of such a crime as that— Ughl the thought makes me shiver! No, no; that’s horribly impossible.” “ If she was our rival, though, you could wish her out 0 your way.” “But, stop and think: Would I put the crime Upon the man I lose? That is hardly in keei'iing.” “ But, you must tell me what this secret is, Julia. “’0 can never be the same to each other until you have done so. I fear it must be something shocking. Had Mr. Gerredson sought your love? t is certain he never came to me about the matter. Can it be that you are married to liim— ’ " Would he still have continued to pay at- tention to Miss Kassinger, if that were so? lie is an honorable man, mother." “ Impossible for me to Say what would or would not have been done, when things so - very extraordinar are coming to light in my own house an concerning my own child. And you a Carvingham!” “I must see this man, momma; I must have a talk with him. Ma be i can start him upon the right track in t e work he has begun. ’ t‘ (37! “Yes, I!” n “ What do you know? ” Nothing; but I must see the man—I will see him!” ’ She started to the don!" but Mrs. Carving- ham sprung forward and intercepted her. "Julia!" she exclaimed, in low excited tone. “Think what {you are doing,' Do not compromise ourfiel 1 Whatever was be- tween you an Gerfedsoni this man can know nothing about it— “But he Will know, and so will all the world, unless I can prevail upon him not to expose n.e. ’Mamma. let. me pass!” "‘i-r- is? woman was dot, emincd’ whuo ,wu.c—'r- vqm. .. mg. "a... r. wag», mo '. skifibflsfl'uo e' . f- ‘ .4 Q! ,4. ; “ ~.,',Ii if , e I . ly blame you for the risks you were taking true friend of Mr. S *1 ex smilln .uinvspitcof; herself, and unable to re- ‘ Detectiveinvitet. “ _. aflor . «Julia looked at him in alarm, and the ‘ siltajndindutls her mother was 'nale, trembling in her e'x-~ citement. “ And you a Carvingham!” she gasped. “" A (,ttrct'ngham.’ ' “ Iixactl ; and not .without a little of‘ the famin prit e, 1 hope," the girl retorted rather sharply. “ Which, it seems, you would drag through the mud.‘ To think that child of mine would ever keep a secret from me! And you a Carvmgham! A Carvingham! A Carving. qun.’ I am more than shocked.” The girl left her mother and went straight to the room which had been taken by (lcr- redson‘s friend. She tapped at the door just a few moments after Gale had made his discovery. "One moment,” he said, and silently re- plaCed the letters and papers in the trunk and closed the lid. Then he opened the door. He was not greatly surprised when he saw who it was. “I desire to have a few moments’ talk with you, sir,” the girl made known. “I believe you are Mr. Gerredson's friend.” “ May I invite you to come in?" Gale asked. “ Yes, I am Gei‘redson’s friend. 1 can assure you of that. Not only so, but a friend to his friends, as well.” ’ As he said this, he looked the girl Squarer in the eyes, and she was not in any way slow to take in his meaning. She understood him; perhaps Gerredson had told him. “Yes, I will step in a moment, sir,” she said, “for I have a confession to make”to ‘ou.” . 3 “A confession? to me?" “ Yes,” falling on her knees. “ When you came upon me so suddenly. I was in the get (ofsehrching through one of Mr. Gerredson’s tru nks-ageconfess‘ it. with shame, relying. upon— y‘ou to k , p my secret.” “I know all about it, Miss Carvingham," Gale declared. “Get up. I have found what you were looking for, and here it is,” placing a letter in her hands. “I can un- derstand the motive you hat, and can hard- in order to carry it out." “ How can I thank you, sir?” “ By trusting me fully, and by confiding in me." ‘ I f‘ That I will do. I now know you are the Gerredson. and, as you said. a friend’to his friends as well." ' ~ ' “ I did not make that statement idly. Miss Carvingham. We have both reason to ut forth eVery effort to save him from‘the ate that threatens him. Now, can you be of ser- vice to me?” “ If I can, sir, I will, believe me. You know thatI would die for him, if it came to that. If you want an ally, and I can be of use to you, I’ll go to an; ength. All I ask is, that on williwithhot my secret from my mother; yr the present. ,I will tellher all in due time." " - . u ) “ It is a bargain. Open. the door and call to your mother, that she may hear some ques‘ tions I w ish to ask you. Be not alarmed; the secret is safe." ' ‘ They had been speaking in low tones, and now Julia opehed the door as the detective had'requestcd. ’ There stood Mrs. Carvingham, having fol- lowed her daughter to the room. John Gale smiled. He had suspected she was there. ‘ “ And you a Carvingham!” c aimed her daughter, playfully, sist t g her I 9 favorite expression; « , _mo “‘2‘” s u Mrs. Garvin ham consign, me hwy" his matter ms it. won be ex lained now as any time, for cannot (Ito stand in a false light at this thne.” , mother asked what he meant.‘ “You had better tell your mother all about it, Miss Carvingharn, ‘ Gale said: then. “I understand the reason whv you did not want'to do so; you dreaded her scorn; but now I think on will be able to bear it, for it probabl wi not be very severe, all things con'side .” r - ‘ ’ Garvin ha‘m flushed, the daughter three sat down and a clean devoted ally, one whom he could trust and upon whom he coald, rely in any matter where devotion to William (xerredson and his cause was the chief concern. 0r—'so he be- lieved. at that interview. , ".— ClIAPTER XII. WHAT luvs wr-z HERE? “So, you see,” Gale summed up, after a conversation‘of some length upon the point, “ there is every reason why we should work together to the best of our ability to estab- lish Gerredson‘s innocence and set him free " ' “Yes, if he is innocent,"saiers. Carving- ham. “ lf guilty, he ought to get what he deserves, And anyhow. his name will always hear the scar." “Not in the sight of any fairqninded per- son, mamma.” “ He is innocent,'be sure of it,” declared Gale. “ I would be willing to stake my life upon that.” . “ So would I!” Julia avbwed, as firmly. “ Well, i hope he is, that is all," said Mrs. Carvingham. “ But, Julia. yv-u must take care not to compromise your good name in this affair. Remember, you are none the less a (thrvingham.” would not let me if I would. But, have no fear; it was to save y good hame that I was so eager to see Mr. Gale and make my humble and shameful confession to him. There is no danger further, I am sure. Do not fear for that.” “And now, let us give this case a little study,” the Lawyer Detective changed the subject. “I, sup 059 on both remember »the small dagger (for son‘used to keep here on the mantel, do you not i” , “ Quite well," answered Mrs. Carving. ham. " flan you say how long it has been miss- ing rom its place?” , "It must be several weeks, at the least, now," said Julia. thoughtfully. ,. “I missed it one day when dusting the mantel, assisting Sarah.” One point in support of Gerredson’s story, anyhow. “ You said nothin about it?” “No; I supposed r. Gerredson had put it away, and thought no more about it. I do not think it ever entered my mind again 338114791: .7. ~ ” Ggyrsdsomchifiuit Wasgtolen from his room. , - , _ “Indeed?” r‘ “r... vants would be guilty of sue a thing, Mrs; Carvingham?” ,- “ Oh, not” t If it was taken, of COurse some one took "‘ But, I cannot think so. evil of any one in my” house, Mr. Gale; I really cannot think so ’ hold, for I accept Mr. Gerredson's' statement about the matter as ‘strictl true." “ You have great confl ence in him." “ As I have reason to have, Mrs. Carving- ham. We are like brothers to each other—’ or used to be. Were he guilty, I believe he would own it to me rather than see me w: ste time in trying to prove otherwise. He swears he is innocent, and [have no choice but to believe him implicitly.” “ And such confidence almost inspires me with the same; but the proofs, the terrible proofs t” , ' , ' ‘.‘ There .is.only one way of explaining them, .Mrs..Carvingham.” . - “And‘how is that 2" ‘(Good heavenst" 7', " _. " It had been said firmly and convincin ly, and Mrs. Carvingham’s’ face paled. asgher fact he was quick to note and which set/him thinking. . Was t possible this woman could know an thin about the crime? . v ad h shot struck home? / er tiv ind M It was certain, belie-Vin Gerredson innoi daggerh‘ad _ takenout of “1 (tan never forget that, mamma; you’ “Do you imagine that'an" oifi‘you? sen,“ "‘ Then we must look, outside of the house-A * that Mnflale know myjrigend and . ., . ' stands~me,he might suspect that ":The'Wl'etGhv who killed. Beatrice Kasst‘ n-. 881‘. had premeditated the crime. and’had it all planned toslayfthercrime upon g 90“ ' ‘ I .' '. -mpfifil’ed. eyes met the steady gaze of the detective, ‘a ‘ his room in this house laysune l‘fl‘:~ntl. and where, so easily, could blood hare bet u put on his coat without his knowledge?"\ ’l‘he’ mystery Was a dense one, and GaIe was groping for light in any and every direc- tion. It mattered not to him‘where the crime fell, so long as he could put it where it. be longed and clear his friend That was the Work he had undertaken to do; that was the task he must accomplish. . “ Do you think that can be true?” Mrs. Carvingham gasped, after her excited ex- clamation. ‘ ~ "Can on see it in any other light. madam, holding ‘erredson to be Innocent ‘2” the young lawyer demanded. ' Well, no; or at any rate that looks rea- sonable; but, is it possible that the awful deed had been in contemplation ever since that dagger wris first missing from this room? It is a horrible thought!” . _ “It must. he so. We must search out the person who took that dagger, and that brings ' us back to the point we were about to con- sider; that is, to look outside of the house- 4 hold to find the person who took the weapon ' from this room. How are We going to get at the truth ?” l. “I only wish that I could suggest, the way”, the woman earnestly declared. " But you can not.” “ No." “ Well, let us see: visitors?" “ Nota great many, sir. A friend dropped ‘= A in occasionally to spend the evening-With“, him." -» l ' “ “'hat friend was that?" , i ' “I refer to his friends generally. Tt was sometimes one, sometimes another. lie had not many, and theyvrere apparently gentle: men, every one.” A e. ‘* “No need to tell me that;Inever.kne’w... Had Gerredson “many I , Will to keep thecompany of anyoth'ers. Had ‘ be any lady callers at any time?” ‘ ‘ ‘ “ ever, sir." “ _ . f “ You forget Miss Kassinger herself, mam- ' ma," reminded Julia. ' . ‘ ” But she was only here once. Julia, In kingw; and that was when Mr. Gerrcdaonm sc .' ' - ,. “When was that?" the Lawyer Detective- asked. _ f .7. '~ . "It was about six weeks ago, sxr." ,. “ She called to see him, knowing sick, then?” " Yes; but he was not in. it was his day out of the house.” . '3 1 “ Had he been sick ion ‘2" a .1 , - "Several days. He h Lafitiph‘ea , “She-did notcome n to his roomthen “Yes: she'had broa t some flowers; requested leave ’to place them‘in hislr with her own hands. ’ v ~ Gale was thoughtful. , “ And you ought to have seen how Julia was,” remarked Mrs. Carv‘i H thoughtlessly. " But for me she wont , ' ' thrown the flowers away, l'do ought to have uemd the truth their “What n to mention that, may the irl demanded, impetuously. , t “ ad why not, since," you have told a. Gale everything? I remember dialect: 01:. gave the lady. as though on would‘i, tn tear her hair for her, an it is aw" Was so blind as not to guess your se _artful miss. I know I could not he" again ” ' ‘ The detective was watching'bot 1,131 talked, and he noted that the gi " cidctily pale. . ; . “ Mamma, you had tongue,” {she sahi,_1forcihly’. {‘1 W I Mina-Kissinger. . ~ , flint-c camel” ‘ “Isn‘t t so, Mr. Gale?” the Ir! 1: “The one who hit M ger must certainly have lulled bar, H ma ls-doing her best to makeit'w hated her.” "My goodness! Juliet how? of such a thing?" the alarm ' “You know very well, 1. thou ht in mind." 9 - V . . “ course I know that; ,lntwm'é "A rsoncaanotmo it! if” '~ twig!“ .g. .. 12 H .v. "- - m-r The Round-About—Town Sport.- there might be room for suspicion against your daughter, Mrs. Carvingham.” “What is the one thing you speak of, then? I am glad to know what 1 have said cannot be taken against my child.” “The fact that all the suspicion has fallen upon Gerredson. You, Miss Carvinghani, would have taken the best of care that it should fall as far away from him as possible, I can well believe.” “ Be assured of that, were I capable of do— ing such a deed.” “ Well, you say, then, this young lady came up to this room and left the flowers. Was she here long? ‘ “ Only a few minutes.” “ Was she in tire room alone ?" “ Only while I stepped down to get a jar in which to put the flowers she had brought. She wanted to leave them in water, you un- derstand.” “ I see. H ly'il ‘7 7’ es. ” Well, was that dagger missing before that visit, or afterward?” “Really, I cannot say; can you, Julia? And she went away immediate- It was missed by you, first, I think. Do you remember?" “It was after her visit, mamma.” “How soon after?” Gale asked. “ I would not attempt to say, sir. I think it was the next week when I helped Sarah with her dusting." “And you think that perhaps Miss Kassin- ger had taken it?" “ \Vhy, no; why should I? I simply noted that it was gone, and thought no more about it.” “ Do you think she did take it?" “ It is just possible that she may have done “ Did you see it on the mantel the day she was here, Mrs. Carvingham?” turning to the mother. “Idid not notiCe its presence or absence either, sir. It may have been there or it may not; I cannot say. Do you suspect her of having taken it?” “ A detective must be suspicious of every- body and everything, madam, and that is the role I am playing now. She may have taken it. But, if so, with what object in view?" “ Suicide?" suggested Julia. “No, positively. It was not suicide. If she had wanted to die, would she have taken such pains to obtain a. certain weapon with which to take her life? 1 cannot believe it. We have, I imagine, about reached the end of. our tether, and nothing more is to be brought out. We shall have to look further and probe deeper. ’ 80 it I C'HAPTER x111. THE FUNERAL AND AFTER. THE funeral of the murdered young wo- man, on the following day, was largely at- tended. Friends and flowers were abundant, for the: Kassinger sisters had been dearly liked by a large circle of acquaintances. Many were the words of sympathy offered to Theresa; and she needed them all, for she appeared to feel her great loss most keenly. It would have been strange had she not.. The famil connections were all present, and the num er, on the Kassinger side of the house, was large. On the other side they were few indeed. Mrs. Kassinger, now dead, had been an Englishwéman, Terwilliger by name, and her on] relations in this country were a brother an a niece—the latter a chi d of a. deceased sister. These two have already been made known to the reader. Theywere GowerTerwiliiger and Mildred Daniels. They were present, too, but not in com- Pfig- . . . iidred was With Theresa, the cousins having always been favorites with each other —more so than had Mildred with Beatrice. The body" was laid to rest in Greenwood, in the same plot where, only a. few short weeks before. Philip Kassinger, brother to Leonard and uncle to the murdered girl, had ‘ been buried. _ His grave was still new and fresh-looking, and now leaving another beside it, the fami y . VIM. i “Jun “a ‘ turned away with heavy and sorrowing hearts indeed. Leonard Kassinger took it very hard, but Theresa and Mildred did all in their power to comfort him. The young lawyer was on hand, his keen eyes taking in everything. \Vhen it was over he went to the Tombs to see Gerredson. He had not been there since the occasion of his first visit, and Gerredson was greatly cheered by a sight of his face. “ I have just come from the funeral,” Gale said, after first greetings. “ I’oor Beatrice!" sighed the prisoner. “ She has a cousin, I learn,” “ You mean Mildred Daniels? very fine girl, too, she is." Yes, and :1 “She was present at the funeral, with her ‘ uncle. He looks like a British bulldog.” “And he is, with an apology to dogs in general. If you had likened him to the por- cine species you would have done better.” He looks it all. What do you know about him I" “ Little that is to his credit." “ Then he is a rascal, I take it." “lie is all of that. It is,liinted that he has so mismanaged his dead sister's affairs that the business is about all his instead of being Mildred’s.” “ There is, little love between them, then, I imagine. I notiei-d she did not go near him or speak to him. She seemed very de- voted to Theresa." “ You imagine about right. She under»- stands him. Yes, she. and Theresa were al- ways good friends and companions.” “ Theres a question I want to ask, Will: Did )ou miss that dagger ‘l)(‘l'orc or after B atrice put the flowers in your room after your sickness?" “ I see you are a detective in earnest. But, of course, you got this from Mrs. Carving- ham or Julia. it was some days after." “ Did you see the dagger at all after that visit ?” " “Impossible for me to say.” “Then I am baikcd on that point. I wanted to know whether it was possible that Beatrice herself could have taken it.” “ Not to be thought of. What object could she have in taking it?” “ I don't know. You don't imagine Julia Carvingham can be the one who killed her, I su pose?" he prisoner smiled sadly. ' Iunderstand what you are coming at," Gerredson answered. “I let you have all my keys so that you might the more fully satisfy yourself that I am the same Will you used to know. It was an open invitation for you to Search through my trunks and draw- ers.” . “ So I knew it to be; but that’s only one side of the matter: When I took your room yesterday I was just in time to catch Julia Carvingham in the act of overhauling your trunks." “The deuce l” “ She was in search of a certain letter.” “ Well, I’ll forgive her. I can hardly blame her for not wanting that read by other eyes than mine.” “ [came upon her too soon, however, and when she had gone I carried on her search and found it, and so learned her secret.” (i Ha!" I “ Yes; and when she came back again shortly to confess to me, I understood the matter. She is going to be my ally on the case. But you see there was reason why she should hate Beatrice ” “She did not love her, that is sure, but that she would kiil her— Oh! that was im- possible. Besides. would she have used that weapon? Would she have allowed suspicion to fall upon me i? No; on will have to look further, John— But, know you do not suSpect her,” “True, I do not; but another might, not. knowing what we know.” “I have something to tell you which I withheld when you were here before, my friend. I had a mysterious visitor the first night I was here.” “ Tell me about it.” “ It was a woman. I awoke to find her in my cell. She had a cloak over her head so I could not reco nize her, and spoke in a hoarse, strained w isper. She gave me poi- son, telling me to take it _and escape the " ... '2: . . H. m. ,1 .g u l a», ‘ I. hf; ‘ mtflg. tug, . H“ “.7, Jew _. -‘ ..,.._. , . .... shame of being killed for the murder. She said I must be guilty, of course.” “ Ali-hat here is something to build on, if we can only get on track of that woman." “ But, how are you going to do it?” “ Have you no suspicion who it was?" “ Not the slightest. She was going before I had my eyes opened, almost, and was gone before I knew it ’ I “ How did she get in?" “I do not know. The jailer came along soon after she went out, and I spoke to him, but it seemed that he ha'i not seen her, and I did not tell him the particulars. I tried to let him infer I had been dreaming, thinking it as well to keep the matter to myself for a time, if he really did not know anything about it.” “ What is the poison?" “ A powder in a bit of white paper." “ You have no use for it?” t i H “You would not take it, even if it came to the worst?" “ Positively not. cide would brand me guilty. through to the end.” "Then let me have the powder and 1'“ put it in the hands of the police and let them hunt the matter up, if they can do it." “ Will it not hinder your own work, when you make it known that a woman has been here? She will hear of it, and that will make her keep closer than she might otherwise.” “‘You may be right, but I must at least speak to the heal official here about it. We must know how she got in, She might come again with a dose of murder instead of sul- eide. You said she actually entered your cell?” “Yes. I might be deceived in thinking it a dream, were it not for the poison,wluchjs real enough. Here it is.” The tiny packet was delivered to the Lawyer Detective. “That’s so; it was no dream. Some one did visit on, and we must put forth every effort to earn who that woman was. The . fact that she entered your cell points to as- , sistance from seine employee of the prison. \- I’ll see the head of the institution at once and see what he can tell me." Other points were talked about, more or less at length, and Gale took his departure. He stopped to talk with his friend the prison official. “ There’s a loose screw about your estab- lishment, sir, that needs your attention," he informed. “ Why, what's that?” the official asked. “Poison was delivered to my client the night before last, sir, and there must be a traitor in your camp.” " Hal that accounts for it! One 'of our under keepers is missing. and this explains his sudden departure. Ie is the rascal who was bribed to take it to him.” “ It was worse than that. He admitted a woman into the cell, and her errand might have been murder just as well as mercy—to call it that. The fellow must be caught and made to tell what he knows.” “ I'll put the police after him at once. He asked to ste out that night, on some excuse or other, an he never stepped in aga'm. He has been bribed, and it may be that this fel- low Gerredson is innocent after all and this woman knows it, the reason she came here.” “ Her words wouldn’t go to indicate that, however.” _ Gale gave the circumstances in full, en- joining upon the official the necessity of Working upon the matter quieti in order that no suspicion might be arou . _ “I knew there was something back of it all," the official declared. “ We’ll have that fellow if the police of New York are any good at all, and when we get him I Will let you know.” ' From the prison the Lawyer Detective went to the Kassinger reSldence for the ur- pose of making the acquaintance of iss Daniels. , He was not disappomted, for she was still there after returning from the funeral. “ I’m glad you have dropped in, sir," said Mr. Kassmger- ” It Is no use for you to look further for the murderer of my child. The police have made no mistake.” 0f 09‘11'36 Gale Was eager to know what new thing had been discovered, and the scrap 0f writing that had been found in the waste- I am innocent, and sui- l’ll see, it '1 5.. _ ‘ v . L — . .. ,4 ‘ . . ,. ..,_, . . ..... _,a\ H ..m- . s _ I , ._ '1, pg“, My,“ i "a .5,” ‘OP' magi-,1 , '. r. ht.” . 4 1(1“ ' man is guilty and I know it. an. —-rn.n-.nah..w"' The Round-About-Town Sport. paper bag was shown to him, and for a mo- ment he was staggered. IIis faith in his friend, however, rose up- permost, though he did not there declare it, but finally took his leave as though this latest development had discouraged him in 'his task. On reaching his room he was non- plused indeed, for there was a letter that had come for him during his absence—one which gave him food for reflection. The letter was city—postmarked, but who- ther in a woman's hand or a man's the dc- tective could not decide It was a scrawl at best, with a heavy stub pen, evidently, but was correctly spelled and worded. It was as follows: “JonN GALE, L.-\WYER'—- “You are on dangerous ground. The You had bet- ter drop quietly out anti go away. Take this as a gentle warning. The house you are in is full of danger for you. Your false friend is willing to let you take all manner of risks with the hope that you can save him. He is playing with you. .Common sense ought to tell you he is gmlty. Drop the matter at once. ” OBSERVING FRIEND.” CHAPTER XIV. THE TRIAL AND FOLLowixc me’rs were so shaped that William Ger- redson was given a speedy trial. And that trial, like the inquest, came out just as eVerybody had expected—a verdict of guilty and a sentence of death. It Could not have been otherwise, in the face of the evidence presented. No sane jury Could have doubted for a moment. It was so plain a case, as the prosecution made it out. But, then, it needed no “making out,” it stood forth in its own strength, unaided and alone. In spite of his sincere and solemn declaration of his innocence, the prisoner was looked upon as an artful hypocrite. IIis )past counted for nothing; at last the mask had been torn away. No need to dwell upon the particulars. The circumstantial evidence lacked no link to make it complete. And being complete, its ends were brought together and welded by the scrap of paper which had been found by Theresa KaSSinger in her sister's bag for waste-paper, in support of which the further testimony of John Awstin was admitted in full. The motive for the deed? Well, murders are sometimes committed for very trifling reasons. The motive in this instance was of that nature. That only served to make the crime the more terrible . and black. It was shown that William Gerredson had loved Beatrice Kassinger madly, and seeing himself supplanted by Awstin, he resolved upon killing her rather than allow her to be- come his rival’s bride. To have killed Awstin would have been useless; her love lost to him, he must kill her. The prisoner had not been defended by John Gale alone. Gale had employed one of the ablest crimi- nal lawyers of the city, taking only a sec- ondar part in the case himself. He iad felt his deficiency in knowledge of the State statutes, fresh from (‘alifornia as he was, though in San Francisco he ranked high as a criminal law er himself; and was de- termined that his riend should have the best help to be had. ’ Every speck and flaw was fastened upon, and when the case closed the defense ave notiCe of their intention to appeal. his would mean delay, and that was the one thing important. Time was needed for the young Lawyer Detective to test his skill in establishing the innOCence in Which he 80 firmly believed. _ Even his associate in the case declared it useless to look further; that the prisoner must be the murderer. , When, however, Gale had told him every- thing he knew about the life and character of Gerredson, then he admitted that possibly he might be innocent; but, in that case, who was the guilty one? What could be the double motive—the murder and the putting of the guilt upon him—Gerredson? - ..,~~..:§.;,. , ,. , ., ,.__..,,.I_: ‘2‘“ ‘ Int?" , A... ~,. I , . ._ . r. hi v- ,..., .gn . .. r .i A”. The Lawyer Detective could not answer; ‘ death of Beatrice Kassinger. and which for that was the task he had before him—t0 find 1 two years to come he will have the handling out. Immediately after the trial Gale visited his friend in his cell. “ Do you give it tip, now, John?’ the prisoner asked. “Not by a mighty sight!" was the cm- phaiic answer. "I am now going to get down to business, and I’ll show to the world that ciicumstantial evidence is not to be relied on.” “ God help you in the work. If you have hope you have more than I dare lay claim to, now. I feel that effort will be useless, and that I am doomed, but still I declare to you now as I did at first, John, that I am inno- entirely innocent, of that frightful deed.” “Did I not believe you I would not try to serve you, for it was as dastardly a crime as I ever heard of." And so they parted, the one to work and the other to wait. The Lawyer Detective went home at once, to study the case in the quiet of his own room. Arriving there, however, he found a caller awaiting him, one who was to open up to his mind’s eye a new vista of ideas in the same connection. It was Mildred Daniels! He had met her before and been introduced to her, as we have seen. “Well,” she remarked, after their greetv ing, “ the trial is over, and an innocent man is doomed to death.” “How can you call him innocent now?" Gale asked. “ I hope you have not turned against him, sir!” in a tone of much alarm. “ What is the use of trying to do anything more ?" the Lawyer Detective insisted, to draw her out. " I came to you, sir, hoping I should find you more determined than ever to establish the innocence of your friend. Say you have not given up." “ lladI anything to build upon I certainly would not give up." “ Maybe I can help you." “What do you know? You call Mr. Gerredson an innocent man in spite of all you have seen and heard.” “ I know nothng, Mr. Gale, but I suspeet much. I am more than half afraid I have been holding back the very thing that was needed in the prisoner's defense.” “And what is that?” , “ It is possible that I can point out the murde rer. ” ' “ Hal now you claim my interest. Let me hear what it is you have to tell, Miss Daniels, and I will weigh it well.” “ You know who I am, of course—~tlmt is. my relation to the family of the murdered young lady.” “ You are cousin to the twin sisters.” “That is it. Their mother and my me- ther were sisters. M uncle and guardian is the only living one 0 that family.” “ Gower Terwilliger?" “Yes. Does it seem possible to you that he can be the one who killed poor Beatrice ?” “It certainl does not, with nothing upon which to built but the suspicion you would evidently throw upon him. Why do you suspect him?” “ I do not suspect him; that would be too terrible, bad as I know him to be; but, at the same time 1 cannot close my eyes to certain facts that connect him with the matter." “Let me have them, please." “To do so I must tell you other things, briefly. Otherwise you cannot see it in the same light." “ Certainly; tell me everything as fully as possible ” “ In the first place, then, there is a. certain small property at stake which, in the event of the death of/ one of the twin sisters, would come to me. It is small, but it would be very accsptable to one in straitened circum- stances. Gower Terwilliger has misapplied the fortune my mother left to me, so that to- day I am penniless.” ' Hal" “And he, himself, which serves him right for his rascality, is little better off. Most of . his business has gone wrong for months past, and he is in tight circumstances. This ittle sum which now comes to me by the of, might serve to tide him over. Now, is it possible that he killed her for that?” “ lIardly. He would not dare take the risk.” -. “ You do not know Gower Terwilliger, sir. lie is dogged enough to undertake any desperate thing. Still, 1 do draw the line in his favor at murder; I merely tell you these facts because I feel they ought to be known.” “ Then, too, why would he place the crime at Gerredson’s door ?” the detective asked “ I have not yet told you all, sir. Terrible as it is to think such a thing possible, it has preyed upon my mind till I can bear the se- cret no longer. There is a reason why Mr. Gerredson should be removed, for he stands in the way of that man‘s ambition in another direction. “'hat I am coming at now. sir, involves a confession from me which costs a great effort to make known. I hope you will not needlessly betray my confidence and allow me to be held up to ridicule.” “I promise you." “ Well, it is this, simply: I love William Gerredson, and my uncle-guardian is eager to force me to marry another person—” “Whom?” the detective interrupted. “ Mr. Theodore Peyterson, who is engaged to my cousin Theresa.” “How can be hope to bring that about.. when the man is already engaged to another lady?” “ He says he only needs my consent, as he has Peyterson in his power and can brin him to terms whenever he will. He knows? love Gerredson, andso is aware it is he who stands in his way.” ' “ And it is because you love Gerredson that you are willing to have the suspicion cast upon your uncle?” “ Yes, and because I hate my uncle. Not only that but I want matters stirred up so that other things may be made to appear. If my uncle has Peyterson in his power, I fear in." cousin is making a false step in marrying 1m. ’ “ It grows complicated, that is true, Miss Daniels.” “What can you do. then, sir?" “ 1 can only act upon the knowledge you have given 'me, and learn whether it is possi— ble this uncle can be the guilty one. Have you ever heard him speak in a threatening way about Gerredson?" "Yes, I have. On the very night of the crime I had a quarrel with him, and he said he would see to it that Gerredson was re~ moved—or words meaning the same thing " “ But, you hesitate about thinking he killed your cousin.” ' “Yes; bad as he is, I am not willing to charge him with that terrible crime. What I have told you are facts; I dare not follow them out to the worst and make such a terri- ble charge.” “ Nor will I, yet. It hardly looks reason- able. 1 cannot see how aman in his right mind could kill so young and handsome a lady so deliberately. Still, a murderer does not stop to draw any differences of this sort, and his crime is horrible enough in any case.” ‘ ‘ How, then, do you look at it, sir?” “ I have made up my mind that the slayer of your cousin had the crime in mind fora considerable time, and had everything ar- ranged for the time and manner of its execu tion. Another thing, how would this uncle get hold of a dagger belonging to Gerred son?" The young woman was thoughtful. “ I cannot tell you.” she slowly answered. ” Still, he may have taken such measures as would place it in his hands.” “ You are determined not to spare him if you can possibly make out a case against im, I can see.” ' “ I had rather see him in prison than Mr. Gerredson." “Would you know his writing were you to see it, do you think?” “Yes, I think I would, sir." “ Is this it?" As he put the question he presented to her gaze the note of warning he had received. “ If it is not," was the calm reply, “it is a. very close imitation of it, sir. \Vhere did you get this? But, I see it has been sent to you here. Did you desire me to read it t" - 13. n.- 2" :quu.»-i-r.-.4 w ~ .m.aa “um-Wax“ » m;u6§1wm 1“;l"‘~_\"fA—V£b JIEUM‘.‘.J c \ . . ' “APS'WVZJ'WIWJSI‘L 31‘ E ..~: r #:129334 ~.~':' ‘.1 .29”: ' ié ‘1‘, '13 1'7 ‘tainly do not suspect you. i and the young lady took her leave. - and he would never take such terrible risks. 14 ‘ The Round-Ab'out-Town Sport. . ...,..........__.,_. CHAPTER XV. GALE IN 'ru'r; nrou'r PLACE. WITH permission to read it, the young wo- man did so. “That sounds like him, too!” she cried. “ I would not say he did write it, however, mind you." “Certainly not; I understand. You sim- ply say the writing looks like his, and that the tone of the missive sounds about like the manner of the man. I understand." “ That is it.” “ Well, do you want to have him arrested at once ?” The girl gave a start. “ I only placed these facts in your hands, sir, so_that you could weigh them, and act upon them as you thought best.” “ But,‘you would not care if the suspicion was transferred from Gerredson to_ your uncle, even though both may be innocent of the crime. Your love for the one and hate cf the other makes it natural." “ You speak the truth; I cannot deny it.” “ What if suspicion should turn upon yourself?” “ Good heavens!" growing pale to the lips. “ You are only joking!” “ But, look the matter squarely in the face, Miss Daniels. You love the man who loved your cousin, and hence she was your rival.” “ And you insinuate that I would kill her?" “Not at all; but, there would be a mo- tive.” “ But, how could I get that dagger? And would I, of all persons, turn the suspicion upon Mr. Gerredson ?” “ Then you have thought of it all before ?" “ Not till you spoke about it. It never entered my head that I could be suspected.” “Nor are you likely to be, either. I eer- Can you, how- ever, throw suspicion upon any one besides your uncle?" “ I cannot. And regarding him I have told only bare truths. If he is the guilty wretch, et him suffer. If not, then of course he must not be charged. You are going to be very sure before you move, of course.” “Naturally. Another question: What do you know about that fellow, AWstin ‘2” “Little or nothing. It has been a wonder to me, though, what Beatrice could see in him that she should turn Will Gerredson away for him. 1 take him to be aman of very low breeding.” “ M own impression, exactly, MiSs Dan- iels. Was there any interest at stake in this fellow’s favor, if he could dispose of both your cousin and her lover at one blow, do you think “I” “ None whatever, so far as I can see.” “ Would you think him capable of such a deed?" “I would not; I look upon him as a cow- ard at heart.” “ And is not this the work _of a coward?” “ I would say not; it is either the deed of an insane person, or one with a grimly de- termined will.” “ There is no insane person whom we can suspect." . “ True." “ And that narrows it to the second class you name, and such a man you say this uncle of yours is?” r “ The description fits him well.” “ You have told me all you can?” “ I think I have.” “Then I am greatly obliged to on. Keep your own counsel, and say not ing to an- other soul about it. I will give attention to the matter from this new point of view, and we’ll see what will come of it.” Some further conversation, of no moment, Gale went into a brown study. Could it be possible that this man was the murderer? That was the leading question in his mind. He decided not. He had seen the man more than once, now, and while he had set him down as a hard man, he drew the line at murder. That he would do anything for the sake of gain he did not doubt—anything but that. Gower Terwilliger was a hard-headed man, Still, here was room for suspicion and it would not do to let it pass without givmg it stranger entirely. .tht icoking intO'it deserved. It was nearly night before Gale came out of his profound studying of the situation in all its bearings, and he had to acknowledge that he was li tlc better off. Time after time had he made the circuit of all the evidence in the case, on every hand, and each time it had all come around to the one place, and there stopped, with the ac- cusing index pointing straight at—VVilliani Gcrredson. “ If he did do the deed. he was insane at the time, and does not know it now." was his final decision on that point. “ But, if I thought that possible I would give it up just where I am; and as I do not give it up, ergo, 1th not think it possible. No; my friend is innocent!" When he went out he went in disguise, to a certain extent. and intended paying a visit to Mr. 'l‘erwilliger. As he neared the place of lllS destination, however, he saw that gentleman come out of the house and start off down the street ahead of him. “ This pleases me just as well,” he said to himself. “1 may be able to fall in with him casually, and make his acquaintance as a I‘ll follow him, any- how.” For a man of his build, Terwilliger was a lively walker, and one who seemed tireless. Block after block was laid behind, andstill he kept on. Nor did he once pause till he had made his way thus for fullya mile and a half, ,and was well down on the Bowery. Here he entered an English alehouse, so- called, and:took a seat at one'of the tables. Gale waited some minutes, then entered after him. He had located him, and sauntering along, dropped upon an inviting chair at the same table. , He saw that Terwilliger surveyed him with something of a semi, but paid no attention to that, ordering for himself a glass of a light beverage. There was a stage in the place. and a per- formance was going on all the time, of one sort and another. Terwilliger was facing this, while Gale had his back toward it. The Law er Detective was quick to note that this h little attraction for the English- man. He scarcely looked at the stage, and frowned when the cro‘Wd in the bluce ap- plauded anything that was said or done. He glanced ate his watch, too, in an im- patient way, and Gale drew his conclusions. He believed the man was looking for some one; that he had, no doubt, come there to keep an appoinlment with some person. If so, it Were better that he should not en- gage him in conversation, or try to—for it was not likely that he would make much of a success of it, anyhow, but wait for develop- ments. So deciding, he turned his chair nearly around, rested his back against the table, and pretended to be absorbed in the perform- ance. A mirror at an angle just ahead of him on- ablcd him to see Terwilliger and others in line. He had not. long to wait for something to turn up. He was using care, whenever he allowed his eyes to turn upon the mirror, for fear Terlivilliger might discover and suspect his tric . Once when he looked he saw another face that was familiar to him, and at the sight he almost gave vent to an ejaculation that rose to his lips. It was the face of John Aws- tin! The young man, looking more at home here than anywhere the Lawyer Detective had yet seen him, was clearly looking for some one, and as his eyes fell upon the form of Gower Terwilliger, his face lighted up and he came forward to where he sat, clapping his hand on his back in a familiar way. “Been waiting long ?” he demanded, cheer- il . y“Long enough, young man, long enough,” was the surly response. “Well, that’s your fault, then, for [see I’m right on time,” with a glance at his watch. ‘ “What would you expect to be, behind time? Sit down, now, and have something, and we‘ll talk matters over." This had been said in low tone, but Gale “wish,” u. A, .~‘ I, 3‘. irvh.‘ .r ,, " .m- fi‘i.-.‘-..A: " ' heard everything, and was well pleased with the arrangement; and Something calling for applause just. then, he gave it with a will, to prove that all his interest was centered on the stage . Putting his hat back upon his head, he leaned yet more comfortably against the table, and was evidently absorbed in interest —:tutl‘so he was, of another sort than was suspet"ed. “ Well, it fizzled," he heard Awstin say. “Yes, and worse luck—or maybe better, if we can make it work another way, and that’s what I wanted to see you about.” “ \Vhat do you mean ‘2” “ I want you to marry the other one, now. That never looked possible before, and I did not spend any thought upon it; but now it has {M to be,” “Whew! Theresa Kassinger will never have me, old fellow; no use figuring on. that.” “ I m not so sure she wont. to be seen.” _ “ You expect me, then, to- enter rival to Peyterson the same as I did to Gerredson‘?” “Exactly, and you can do it as well as not. There may b‘ a chance for you, for l have other things laid out for Mr. Peyterson.” “But, it's so saon after the death of’ Beatrice, you know; and, too, she is alread engaged to Peyterson, and I hear the we - ding is not going to be postponed on account of the death.” “ I’ll take care of Peyterson, or try to, at any rate. All I want you to do is to show yourself his rival.” “And maybe get a knife'plunged into me for it—” “That is what you must look out for. That is your part of the business. If you can only marry this one, then your fortune will be immense, and so much the more I will reap for aiding you. See ‘I” “ I’d like to see it, I can; assure you of that.” “ Then no reason why you' shouldn’t. Go- in to win, and I’ll help you, and. between us we are sure to win the day. If Peyterson had no money I'd see the whole thing clear as it stands, for I could probably make terms with him; but as he has a fortune. too,I must lay plans to draw interest on that as- well. I am not asleep, young man, and not afraid to show my hand, either.” That remains CHAPTER XVI. MORE MYSTERY s'rrLL. LITTLE need to say that John Gale was in- terested in what he heard». Here, again, opened another view in the great case upon which he had ventured in the behalf of his friend. Came now with renewed force the sus- picion which Mildred Daniels had cast upon this rascally uncle of hers, newer and great- er reasons why he might be the guilty one who had done the deed. There was wealth at stake; he evidently had the man Peyterson and this other rascal in his power to a certain extent, and bring» ing about the marriages in the manner he desired, his own pay for his trouble in the matter was assured. scheme. On the one hand he sought to realizc upon marrying off his protegee to advantage; on the other, by selecting the right man for his other niece. Gale congratulated himself on happening to be in the right place at the right time. He was interested particular] in one re- mark that had been let fall, that made by Awstin regarding the ossibility of_ getting knifcd at the hands oPPeyterson it he 'be- came his rival. There had been no particnlar stress laid upon the pronoun; if there had been he would have felt sure of his ground, almost, One thing he did suspect, that these rascals knew who had killed Beatrice Kassinger, even if they were not indeed the very part who had done the deed. I But. there was more to be heard. “ It’s all very Pm“! 88 you plan it, old man,” said Awfitm, thoughtfully, "but there- is a mighty big doubt whether it is going to work that Wily. .I don’t believe Theresa Kassinger will ~iotiee me, much less listen to .my suit." “You must make her notice y:u '.-..... .. _ m, ’ ‘...; _ 3.. at... “r ‘ ,y‘. than... _,I It was certainly a big‘ ' 10.1. to: .,. ‘ .,~\:-w..... . - .4'. :7 ' “1.3;! ..‘Cv', ‘ . . , ’ r. - « amid—‘59! .. 953‘ I "‘5‘ The Round-AboutsTown-‘ Sport. ‘ can cause just as much trouble there as you 1' did in the other case, if you make up you mind to You can arouse the spirit or jealousy Peyterson, at least, and that i one of the main points to be accomplisheds you know.” ‘ ; “ By George, I wouldn’t want to cause as much trouble as there was in the other case, old fellow. I wouldn‘t want to see Theresa murdered in cold blood." “ Nor are you likely to. the cause of that, you know." “No, I don‘t know. I made Gerredson madly jealous, and this was what came of . ,, .. You we re not “If he Wanted to kill the girl, you could not help that, could you? You had no way of knowing what crazy thing he would do, had you?" . “That case is a warning for the one you propose now, however. I tell you we are on dangerous footing all around, old man. If there should be another murder, or anything like it, we might at into trouble.” “ Nonsense! ow could we? We had nothing to do with the other case, and we certain y have no thought or intention in that line. That was an accident, as it were; something no one would have thought of. If you are going to scare out you are of no use to me.” “I’m not scared out yet, though, old boss. I’m' only telling you how impossible it looks to me. There was a good deal of difference between those girls. Theresa is a good deal more reserved than Beatrice was, and mighty careful of her company. She never took any more notice of me than oliteness demanded of her, ‘and it: isn't likely I will find much favor no ." ‘ _ ‘ “Well, a fortune depends on your tryin , and I Want” to know ‘what you mean to do about it." - “ l’ll give it a try, of course.” “All right; that’s all I want you to do. Your first work is to get Peyterson out of the _ field if you can, and after that we must find means for carrying it further. The whole matter is 'ust here: You have got to marry Theresa assinger, and that ward of mine shall marry Peyterson.” “I’m willing enough, far as I am con- corned: You will haye no trouble with me. But, have you‘an plan thought of by which I can work the th rig?” “If a New York sport of your brass hasn‘t ideas of his own, 0 had better close up shop.” “ Which is the same as sayin r you haven't. _ Well, I’ll give it a try, as I sai , and will get there if I can. ness, don’t it i" 4 “Yes, that is all, for this time. I will put in a good ward fox-you there, and at the same time will do all I can toesslst in ousting Pey- Suppose that ends our busi- 'terscrn; but in that I have to’becarcful, since Mildred and Theresa are good friends, and one will t‘ell the other ever thing. It is not an easy thing to accomplis , but it must be done in one way or another." * . “By the way, Mr. Terwilliger," the younger man asked, "what is your honest ,epinion about that murder? Do you really -’ think Gerredson did it?” “As I wasn't there, and didn’t see it, I can’t swear that he did,” was the answer. “It looks like a pretty plain ea,:‘ I 20. .l .c “ ;. "tx .3'-1..m. ‘ rushed into the Police Headquarters, casting herself at the feet of some otiicers standing just within the main entrance, in excited ac- cents declaring she was guilty of murder. . The first surprise ever, she. was lifted up and asked to tell her story. . She was young and fair, and looked any thing but a murdercss, but her eyes Were red and her fare worn. It took but a few moments to begin to get at the thing in proper shape. and a detective sergeant took it in hand to learn the facts, whatever they might be. “ \Vhat is your name?" he asked. “Mildred Daniels,” the anSWcr. “ Whom have you killed?" “ It was I who killed Beatrice Kassinger, sir.” ‘ The deuce!” This detective-sergeant was the one who had been first on the ground after that iiiur» der, anti who had arrested William Gerred- son for the crime. “It is true,” the girl assured. “ I am the guilty wretch. Please let him—I mean Mr. Gerredson—please let him go, and put me in ‘ his place." I “ I thought I had seen your face before,” l I said the detective-sergeant. “But, can you prove that you are guilty, as you confess you are ‘2" “Prove it?” and the girl eyed him won- deringl V. I “Exactly. unless you can prove what you say. already condemned one person for that crime.” l “But, I did do it, sir; I confess that I did t it; is not that enough?” i “ No; it must be proven.” t The girl seemed bewildered at this. It f was something which, evidently, had never } occurred to her—had never been known—l never dreamed of. “ What. kind of law have we, then?” she ! demanded. “If a guilty person comes and 5 confesses, must there be a trial to prove the [ person so? Can you not even arrest me and lock me up?“ ' “ We’ll detain you, of course, but not ar- rest you. But, let me question you a little , further: It you are the guilty one, why did t you kill Miss Kassinger?" “ Because I loved her lover, and could not ‘ see her win him.” 5 " It seems, thou ii, that she was not likely ‘ to win him; she id not want him; it was shown at his trial that she had that night cast ‘ The law cannot deal with you, ' It has ‘ him off. " l f “ Yes. yes; I know; it was because she l abused him, too, that I killed her. I could not hope to win him, as he had never noticed ; me, but I was determined he should not waste himself upon her.” i “ Then you heard their quarrel it" . “ 1 es, yes. I was hiding in the room. I killed her—” . é “ Where and how did you get the dagger? E And how came the blood upon the coat Mr. Get-redson had on?" i “ Yes, yes, I can explain all that. sir. Beatrice herself had the dagger in the house, sir, and I knew where it was—” : “lllold on; why did you not tell this at the tria ‘2” l “ Can you not see? I hoped Mr. Ger- l redson would get free, and I certainly did ' not want to stiffer for it myself.” i “ But you have now changed your mind.” “ Oh! I could not bear it, I could not bear g it! To think of the man I love dying for a ' crime I had done— It was too terrible!“ , “ You say the dagger had beeniii Beatrice‘s possession— How did she get it? [low did Wu know she had it and where she kept it? hen did it come into her possession? ’ i " She took it one day when she visited his room. after he had been sick. She went wrth .flowers, and seeing it on the mantel, took it. She told me about it, said it was’ only forajoke. I ha pened to see it one day, and asked her w at the letters‘W. G. meant.” “This is getting serious," spoke the detec- tive-sergeant to those around him. “Now explain about the blood, Miss Daniels.” “When I left the house my arm was all blood, sir, and I ran to get home as quickly as possible. I left the house only a few mo- ments after Mr. Gerredson, and i had not gone far when I saw him ahead of me on the street. I ran faster, and wanted to get past ‘ ,.. _ , J ; v Mi ,-.. him without letting him guels who it was. and just as I was about to pass he stepped in my way air! 1 ran against him.” " And so smeared the blood on his coat." “ Yes, yes. Oh! will you not believe me, sir? Will you not let him go and put me iii his place? ' “ You have confessed that you love him: maybe this is only a crazy desire to sacrifice yourself for him. it is not for me to let him go; no one can do that but the courts.” “ Then it them hear ine— Do something, sir, something that will set him free and let me suffer for what I have done.” “ It will take time. It cannot be done in a moment. if you are telling the truth there will be a way to prove i’, l have no doubt. Officers, detain her a moment till I return." The result was, that Mildred Daniels was held while investigation could be made. Just as soon as possible the police detective- sergeant paid a visit to the Tombs for the purpose of questioning Gerredson. His badge admitted him. “ I have dropped in to ask you a question or two concerning the events of the night of Miss Kassingcr‘s death,” he announced. “ All that has been passed upon once, sir,” the poor prisoner reminded, sadly. ~ “ You of the police have done the worst you can for me; you have made out your case against me.” “ D.) not feel too bitter toward us, sir; the case was one that worked itself out, all the circumstances being against you.” “ Well, maybe I am too severe. \Vhat are the questions you want to ask? ’ “ Something has taken place that may possibly lead to your liberation, if you are iiidctd innocent, as you so determinedly maintain.” “And I am—I’ll swear it with my dying breath." “ Well, give attention, and do not inter- rupt me till I am done: On that night when on left the house, after your quarrtl with Iiss Kassmger, you were walking a ray when a woman ran against you, at some dis- tance from the house, I do not know just how far. Did you recognize her ?” “ Nothing of the kind happened, sir." said the prisoner, quietly “I walked only to the corner, where I boarded a car. No one ran against me.” “ You are sure upon this point?" “Yes, for I have gone over the events of that night a thousand times trying to account or the blood on my sleeve. Now, tell me, why have you come to ask me these ques- tions?” “ A person has surrendered to the police, confessing the crime ” “Thank God! At last, at last!" The face of the prisoner lighted tip, and' he almost sprung from his seat on the cot at the good news. . Immediately, however, his bright look vanished. “ I cannot believe it, however, if that. per- son claims she ran against me after i left the house, in that way accounting for the blood on my coat. That Certainly did not. happen. But who is she ‘I” “It is Mildred Daniels.” “Impossible!” “ Not at all; I tell you only the truth.” “She has given herself up to the police, sayingr she killed her cousin?” “Yes.” “I do not believe it—I cannot believe it. Why, what motive could she possibly have for such a deed as that? It‘s out of reason.” “She has given a reason. She sa's she did it because of her love for you—” “ Why, she is mad-—she must be mad l” “One other thing, and a-very important point, she explains how she got the dagger with which the deed was done.” ‘ “Tell me, how ‘2” This the detective-sergeant did. “She has told that she saw the dagger in the possession of Beatrice, you say. That Beatrice acknowledged to her that she had taken it from my room." Gerredson said this more in the way of musing than questioning. “Just as I have told you,” the detective affirmed. “Says Beatrice took it one day when she visited your room. Mildred saw it act-idemally in her possession. 1 under- stand it, and Beatrice told her all about it. .a ~ a. . . . y. ' .sq. Wt, » .. v . ~ ., i A V a . ~. .- _ .. n , - a .‘ne ‘ S‘R’ -- Did you get a glimpse of her facetl ‘ J I - ..>~ «i. 1 revs; 51 55%“ v» 3 v -w-?r'a2 .. Faun t? .‘f- sf 1. .3. fl" A 2O 4 The H ound-Abo‘ut-Town Sport. She had taken it in a joke, as I get at the facts." “ Well, well, I do not know—I cannot un- derstand. But, it is impossible that Mildred can be the 'guilty one; and yet, why would she come and confess—” “ To save you.” “No, no,'shc cannot do that—she must not do that, if she is guiltless, and she must be. Is she not out of her right mind? Is she not insane? Surely there must be some- thing wrong.” “ You speak as though you know she did not do it, sir.” “ I cannot swear that she did not do it, but I do not believe she did. Why, it is out of reason.” “ But, see her motive: She loved you, and she hated her cousin because you loved her. She was present at your quarrel that night, and in her rage she killed her cousin as soon as you had gone.” “My God! Can it be true—can it be true?“ “ You are sure on the point that no woman ran againzt you on the street, before you took the car ‘2” “I can swear to it, sir. I met few per- sons, and no one passed Inc going in the same direction. Will you do me a favor?" “What is it?” “ Send word to my lawyer about this stran e occurrence." “ es, I will do that, certainly, sir. I hope you will get clear, even yet, if you are innocent.” “ Whether I do or not, sir, I am innocent none the less.” ‘1;You have impressed me during this brief tal ."' The detective-sergeant took his leave, at that, and the prisoner threw himself upon his cot and tried to think the matter out. That, however, he could not do. There was only one thing of which he was sure, and that was—his own innocence. All the rest be- sides was guessing—dark, dark guessing. CHAPTER XXII. FOLLOWING THE THREAD. IT had been arranged that any communi- cation from the prisoner to his friend, the Lawyer Detective, was to be made through the law otlice of Hough and Brief, the law- yers who, with John Gale, had the prisoner’s defense in charge. ' In this manner the Lawyer Detective could remain in the background, if need be. And so it was, when the detective-sergeant kept his word and sent a report of the new phase in the case to these lawyers, as the prisoner had requested, he had no knowledge that he was sending it to a rival detective. But that would have made no difference anyhow; he would have done it just the same, undoubtedly; still, the precaution was not out of place. As said, it was early, and as Gale had in- tended dropping into the otiice of llough & Brief that morning, he reached the office about the same time the detective‘s message came in. “ Great Scott!” exclaimed Hourrh, when he read the brief note the boy hiltf delivered. “This will interest you, Gale.” He gave it into the hand of the Lawyer Detective as he spoke, and a similar excla- mation escaped his lips as he grasped the meaning of the contents. The messenger was dismissed, and the two men fell to considering the new turn events had taken. “ What do you make of it?" asked Gale. “ You must see the prisoner at once. and caution him to keep tight lips, and then in- terview this girl.” advised Hough. “Little need to see Gerredson,” Galo rc- g‘oined. “Nothing will escape him but the nth, and on that and that alone his defense must rest. I'll go and see the girl." “If she can rove she did the deed, that will clear your riend, of course. But, little use to speculate till we know more about it. I’ll dr0p around and see the prisoner myself, and prepare him for this new feature, so that he can take advantage of it.” Gale quickly executed the business that had brought him there, and set out in haste to see Miss Daniels. . , Inquirin at Headquarters, he found she was at the ease of Detention. l He was quickly in l.cr preSence. She was weeping, greatly excited and ner- vous, almost overcome. At sight of the Lawyer Detective her tears poured forth afresh. “What great story is this you have been telling?" Gale gently demanded. “ l have told only the truth," was the bro- ken response. “Then all you told me before were lies— nothing but lies? I can hardly believe it of you.” Her sobs were his answer. “ It is plain that you lied then or are lying now," he added. “ Now, for your own sake, and for the sake of all concerned, let me have nothing but the simple truth from you.” “ Yes, yes, it is true—is true,” she de- clared, in gasps, almost. “ it was l who killed Beatrice. You must make it known, Mr. Gale, and so get Mr. Gerredson out of prison. I should be in his place; 1 could not stand it any longer-and had to confess. I had hoped he would get clear." The Lawyer Detective put questions simi- lar to those which had been asked by the police-sergeant, and soon had the whole story. He was a puzzled man. In his heart he believed the girl was lying; she was too tender and gentle to be guilty of such a crime. But, here she had come, of her own will, confessing the deed, knowing well her fate if the facts she might present would bear out her declaration. Could it be she had gone mad ?” About the time Gale was in possession of all the facts, in walked the detective-ser- geant. He greeted the Lawyer Detective in a friendly way. “Well, 1 have been to see the condemned man," he said. “and his story and that of ytlnirs do not hang well together, Miss Dan- ie 8.” “ How is that?” asked Gale. “ First let me ask this lady a question, please: Where was it you ran against him, as you explained to me, Miss Daniels? ’ “ I do not know exactly, sir.” “ Was it near the house? He must have had time to walk quite a distance before you overtook him.” The question was artfully asked, and as artfully the anSWer directed. Right here would hinge the keynote of the whole mat— ter, the oflicer believed. “ Oh! I hardly know,” was the reply. was some distance away, I think.” “Yes, it must have been. Several blocks, no doubt.” “ It was several blocks.” The detective-sergeant smiled, giving Gale a swift glance. “ Well, there is a mistake out somewhere,” he now said, “for Mr. Gcrredson declares he took a car at the avenue, and is positive no woman ran against him on his way there. And the avenue, you know, is not far from the house " He looked at the girl sharply, and she seemed for a moment confused. “ You seem to have caught yourself,” ob- served Gale. “ No, no,” she then quickly cried. “ I see it all, I understand how it must be. He recognized me, and for my sake he is willing to deny that any one ran against him on the street.” “ Yes; but he says he took the cars at the avenue, while you say you overtook him some blocks away.” “It is he who is telling the falsehood, then, sir.” The two detectives looked at each other in a puzzled way, and he of the police gave Gale a signal that they would talk in pri- vate. Gale excused himself, saying he would return, and followed the detective sergeant out. “What do you think about it?” the ser- geant asked. “ I have reason to believe the girl is lying,” answered Gale, bluntly. “So have I. and the best reason is, that the proof is so tightl wedged upon the prisoner that she can’t rcak it.” “ What’s her motive in placing herself in this osition t" ” he loves him, and thinks to clear him.” “It “ I suppose you take little 1nterest in her further, having made up your mind she tells a falsehood.” “ You strike it about right, I think. I don't believe the police will hold her, if she can't bring better proof in support of her story. There is a way to prove it ” “ How is that?” “ The dress she wore that night must show stains of blood upon it, if she was so be- smeared that her running against Gerredson daubcd him up as he was.” “I have thought of that, and mean to in- vestigate. Everything is a clew, for me, working as I am to establish the innocence of. my friend. Even if this younrr woman is lying, some good may come out o it.” “ Go ahead. The only thing we shall do will be to have her examined as to her sanity ” ’l‘hey parted, and Gale returned to the young woman. “ Now, Miss Daniels. see here,” he said; “you know i am the friend of the man you profess to love, and I want you to give me the plain and simple truth. You are mis- taken in thinking you can save him in this way, unless you can prove at your trial you are guilty of the crime, and that you cannot do. You may only get yourself into a bad fix and do him no good whatever.” “ How do you mean?” “They may judge you insane, and confine you in an asylum. Once there, you might find it difficult to convince them of your sanity afterward.” " That will be better than the death-chair; I think I should prefer that. I am guilty, Mr. Gale.” She said it in a way to indicate that it was true, or that her mind was fully made up to stick to it, at any rate. There was nothing for the Lawyer Detec- tive to do but to leave her. “ Very well, if you are determined to play this role, there is only one thing for me to do,” he said, “ And what is that?” “ Prove whether you are telling the truth or not." “ You can do that only by prevailing upon Mr.y Gerredson to admit the whole truth, srr.’ “ I believe he has told the whole truth now. and has nothing further to disclose. I still hold him innocent, and 1 cannot think. either, that you are guilty of the awful deed.” Twenty minutes later he was at the resi- dence of Gower Terwilliger. It was Gower himself who opened the. door to him, having been on the point of go- ing out when Gale rung the bell. His face was dark, showing that he was in a rage over something, and recognizing the Lawyer Detective at sight, he did not greet him pleasantly. “Well?” he grufliy demanded. Gale had done some rapid thinking in that brief moment, and meant to sound this gen- tleman at once. “ I want to see Miss Daniels, sir,” he an- nounccd. “ Not at home, sir, not at home,” was snarled at him. “That being the case, my business is with on.” y “You‘ll have to call again, have to call again,” hastily. “ I am going out on busi- ness of importance.” ' “This business of mine is important, sir, and must be attended to. I must have afew minutes of private talk with you.” “ What about, sir, what about?” “ About the murder of Beatrice Kassin- er.” ’l‘he Lawyer Detective looked him squarely in the eyes, and it appeared to hlm that the Englishman looked troubled. “ What about it?" he demanded. ” Well, there is some suspicion that points toward this house. Sit. and it is for you to clear it away.” Gower now pnled a little. " Suspicion here," he gasped. “Who is suspected? What are you talking about, anyhow?" . “if you will ask me in we 'can talk more at ease, I think. Then I can give you all the particulars, and hear what you have to say.” “ But. I‘m in a hurry now, sir. Can’t you call again? That confounded fool of a niece - V._.,___I_ A? “fit it fl. ‘ ‘ thin}.r is just here: 1+ ._ 'rf-u ~ Transatlan- b allergen ‘ ' of mine has run away, and I want to set the police on track of the silly jade. " ‘ “ if that is all, you need not trouble your self, Mr. Terwilliger. She is in the hands of the police now. Whether they hold her or not will depend on what I shall learn here, perhaps. No need for you to go out to find her; she is in safe keeping.” Gower Terwilliger‘s face assumed an ashy hue, and he clutched the side of the doorway for support. Nothing of which was lost to the detective. CHAPTER XXIII. GALE CONFRHNTS (:mvrili. Tim Lawyer Detective waited for the British bulldog to speak first. “ Wit—what do you mean?” Terwilliger presently managed to gasp. “ You don’t mean to say she has been arrested for the Crime!" “ Not arrested, no; but she is held, and I want to find proof of her: innocenco or guilt, whichever it may be. And you are the man to hcl me. But this is no place for us to talk a at it." “ What did you mean by asking to see her, when you k new she was in the hands of the police, then?" " I wanted to learn Whether you knew about it yet.” “ You are a tricky rascal. that‘s what you are, sir, a tricky rascal. int, come in and We’ll have it out.” “ Thank you for the compliment, sir," said Gale, in even tone, as he entered and closed the door after him. “One has to meet kind with kind, sir, in this tricky world.” , The «thick-necked Englishman merely granted as he led the way into’a room, and he threw himself upon a chair without any invitation to Gale to be seated. This did not matter, however, for Gale took a seat all the same, and proceeded direct to business. ' “Now, Mr. Terwilliger,” he said, the Was it, your more who killed Miss Kassinger? or was it yourself?" 'i‘erwilliger almost dropped from his chair to the floor. His face grew deathly, and then assumed a , - urple color as if/he was about to chokehto \ . «- ’ :t' 2 IWMU‘G.” .1 , ' ovgrsome of the points, briefly ,against us, bring them out. venue ‘ ' . against you. ' oath. . . . “ That’s what .I want _ to know."- Gale rcssed him. “ The man who killed-Philip {assinger would have about the same motive for killing the girl, and there is a suspicion in our direction.” . wer Terwilliger gasped, trying to speak, 7&1th not utter a sound. ‘ Then he began to flutter his hands helplessly. “ Whoever it Was poisoned Philip Kassin ger, I say,"the lawyer detective urged home, speaking slo‘wly, deliberate! and distinctly, ~ "that Iperson probabl-too the life of the girl. ow, sir, defen yourself of the ’seri- ous suspicion that you are the man who did both.” “ Great heavens!" the bewildered man ex: y t loded. “You don‘t mean to say Philip fussinger died of poison, do you?" , “Exactly, sir. lie was murderer .” “It can’t be possible! How do you know this thing], young man? And what do you mean by inting at such a thing as my hav~ ing committed the crime? By heavens, I have a notion to pitch you out of this he mopped the?” v U . g “ I’m as innocento it,” I believe is my niece. If youth “5, . k b r } a position, I thinkfyo'ung“ " Not at all, sir. I am making no charges I am merely showing you some suspicions indications. 1 our mere denial does not do much to sweep them away. Can't you do that l" ' " I have no call to do so. yourself in a serious ‘ s n “ unless I am ar- rested. If you want to do that. 30 “lead”. "I do not consider that my proofs! are suf- norm, sir. I had mlherthink you Innocent. Bohjsow about your niecet” , ,7“ ,3: you proveéshe did it?” _ ~. .“1 wontto prove that she did. not do it. and unhelpf': ~- ' ~ ' " ' ; ed Terwilliger. s r“ . knowe I.“[ to? v.8". i think I can explain her conduct without miss- ing the mark " “ How do you explain it?” . “I’ll tell you, plainly. Last night 1 had another stormy interview with the stubborn thing, and I‘ told her what was what—that she had to marry a man whom I have selected for her. The ill‘ti~(filt defied me, and declared she. would place lit-rsell' beyond my reach, and this is the way she has done it." - (lale fr it that he had come at the truth. He Could not believe Gower ’l‘t-rwilliger guilty of the crimes that had been committed, in spite of all appearances, and he certainly did not believe Mildred had killed her corr- srn. '. “ I am convinced that you are right, sir,” he said. “ l meant to get at the truth of the matter if I could, and came here with their]- tention of placing the facts before you just. as they are. I will say. now, that i do not believe you guilty of the crimes that have been done. Now, there is a question I must ask, and on your answer to it will depend much.” ' “\Vhat is it?“ “ (‘an you tell me what dress Mildred Dau- iels had on upon the night on which her cou- sin was killed?" . - “ No, I don't know one dress from another, for I never look at a woman’s toggery. I’ll tell you who can, though, and that’s Mary, the girl here.” “Call her." Mary was called, and the same question was put to her. , “ Yes, I do know, sir,” she said, promptly. “ It was her gray own, the same one she had on this morning w on she went out, and the same light Sack, too.” “The sack, too, eh? that night i” ‘ “ Yes, sir.” . “ Do you know' where?” “I do not, sir.” Here the Lawyer Detective had run up against another snag, as he mentally de- cided. . ' ' ' Ifthe girl was out on that ni ht, and it appeared she was, and she could eep secret where she had been, it would be one point toward the support of the confession she had made. “ How do you remember the dress and pack, she had on upon that particular night, my cod woman?” Gale pressed further. " “t girl hasn't an over supply of things, si, rind really, it is about the only own she as that its-anything like new and ecent tp wes‘r, if I must’tell thésrhoie truth and shame the devil. ’ I ‘ 'i‘ V ‘1 Then shé was out on The answer was a chapter of revelation. ;' “That’s all that’s wanted of you,” growl- “ Are you satisfied now, sir?’ to Gale. “ Yes, I’m satisfied on some points,” was the answer. '“ I must know, howsver,where Miss Daniels was that evening. I’ll find that out somehow. This work has barely begun e ’ ' The servant had left the room in haste, and it was now Gower’s turn. , ‘ . “ Now," said he, "' if ‘ouare don/e, youn man, I’ll take ahand in his thin in self. want to know how you learned gPhil! Singer died of poison, if he did, which very much doubt.” ' “The' body has been taken up and the stomach examined.” 9 . ,“ Is that so? By whose orders was it done, I shpuld like to ask? But I suppose it was done by the olice, who are suspicious of everything. r, more likely still, by your a gem, thinking thus to prove a double ,0! ,in the interest of, that murderer friend , yours" ‘ Ifi’fiégrgmisiuken all agonnd,‘ I the facts '5'?“‘ i :: And hooidoyoem may“ That I prefer not to tell.) "I can, how— ever, put you on track of the information.” “Well, do that, then.” r o “ Your young friend, Mr. Awstin, can probably tell on all about it.” , ' “ My frien Mr. Awstin?" ' _. ~ _“ Yes; the young Bower blood whom yo want to marry Theresa assinger. in order thatyou may reap some of her fortunes. the hen", you have Ina.de ” Cheat! takcn'i'n. Mons you ex act to reap some of Mr. Po um .. a; “p - ’7 "Zt)undsl"criedthe enraged rascal. “This V .H to incl” 7. “Exactly. You can't deny it; i‘ see through your game. 'i hat is the pretty ' scheme you have at work.” 3 “Eternal zounds! Why, you young up- start, are. you aware to whom you are talk- ing? 1 atn one of the solid men of this city, ' and do you think I’d stoop to anything so low and base?" “ That's a fine showing of dignity, sir, but it won't serve as a mask. What I assert is sometling l [CM/if.” ‘ “And lmw do you know it?" “In the same way as I know a good many things, sir. What is more, I can prove it. This, however, is another matter, and, I care little about it. I‘Vhat I am after is to find the slayer of Beatrice Kassingt-r. Your questions have led to this new diselosure.’l “But, tell me, how comes Awstin to be concerned in it?" . . “Ask him. If he will take you into his confidence, well and good; if not, I will not have betrayed him." And with that the Lawyer Detective took his leave. refusing to enlighten the bulldog llritislrer further in the matter, and leaving ‘ him a very puzzled and anxious man, in’ deed. This interview had satisfied Gale upon ,, two points: First, that Terwilliger was not ' the murderer, and second,‘that he did not know who was. In fact, a previous con?— versation he had overheard had established these points. , , . 5 Then, too, he believed he now; saw through Miss Daniels's object in declaring , ..~ , herself guilty, ' ‘ From here 'he went direct to see, her .. again. , ~ " “Well, now I have the proof that you, did not do the deed,” he confidently assented, ” What is your proof?” very apathetically. “This. is the dress you were on that. ' night, and there is no blOOd on it. The ' same with your sack. Where are the stains '- " " of the blood with which you smeared Gets? redson in passing him?” , ' ' » r “How did yen find' out?" the girl asked, wonderin gly. . . 2,. “Never mind; Iknow.” - ,. “Then of‘eourse I didn‘t do the deem.” , “ To be sure you did not. Your ject in playing this part is to escape the we sccutions of your uncle-guardian, " ‘l g “ Then I must be insane, I suppose: diff: didn't do it, and am so sure I did/1&2? there must be something wrong, and I had better dc'Ishut up in a mad-henna... you think so?" " ‘2? ’ fiobefly,eamest?sbe said‘it.~ . 3= ,' "That will he or’ somebody else lode?" cide," answered Gale. “I will call see you again ere long, if you remaining f Leaving fier, hei went home, mm is a yreat or anyth , require of her, and, wi h herhiige v " Police Head usrters. The result etin was, that J u la.Carvingham was the house of detention to watch dred Daniels and be companion to her; ‘ CHAPTER XXIV. ‘ , TERRIBLY access-.1). «' Tim New York sport who eats hik- .teeth on the Bowery, and has his with" ened by constant "friction against” is _ class, is seldom to becaaght ’ It sometimes happens nevertheless, when the tinlé‘us'. the city’s peace get after hing-in, some oflense. but it is generally ' and tireless chase,” and when he is t: a wide awake. - _, o - s I ‘ John Awstin was a follower this swap. ,Hc hsdbeen'nnder singleton several, undersnot er, but. so llkef . .And new there was small he nor would be, havi digger-ted his native a ‘ one over to the camp" . Hundgred, where he halls- ' fcotin’g. , -‘ .Being a fellow of this t ‘, wits well about him—and. ’ Hg ed 2 he had of the Kafiinger» your focused his "mind ,n new . . ~ _ "'st wt Mn 'lif'""’ v _-u-ss-:~g-l Wle’t-‘x—wv-w 4;".-. -. .22 . “’Tlfew'RodéAbout-Town Sport. On the afternoon of the day following events in order, he presented himself at the door of the Kassinger residence and asked for Theresa. He was admitted, but coolly received. “ I have called on a matter of sentiment and business combined,” he humbly announced. “ You will patiently hear me, I trust.” “ Come to the point at once, Mr. Awstin,” the young woman coldly requested. “ WhatI have to say is of a very delicate nature,” he proceeded to reface, leaning for- ward and speaking in a ow tone. “ it con- cerns you,and is something that must not be overheard.” “ Gouon,” she said simply. She was pale and worn- ooking and her man- ner was freezing. “ There is so little difference—was so little difference, in looks, between you and your sis- ter that to love one was to love both, and—” H Sir,” She fastened her eyes upon him, as though to pierce him through with the very fire of their glance. “I mean it,” he said, earnestly. “ If I lOVed your sister, that love has now gone out to you with even greater force, and I have totellyou of it. You are to me all —” “ That is quite enough, sir,” she interrupted stifliy, rising. “ Please take your leave as promptly as you know how, and never enter this house again. If you deceived my poor sis- ter as to your true character and intention. you cannot deceive me, and [bid you go!” The rascal smiled confidently, but made no move to obey the order. “That’s quite pretty acting,”he said, “but you can’t do it to perfection. You can’t quite get the natural touch, you see.” “ Wretch! what do you mean!” “ Do you think you can shut my eye, Beatrice Kassingeri” “My God! What do you mean! I thought you a fool; now i believe you must be crazy.” “ Not so crszyas you might imagine, my dear. Beatrice, I know you, in spite of all your fine retending, and you have got to marry me, or ’1! blow out on you. Do you see?” The young woman, as pale as death, pressed her hand to her forehead, staggered, and grabbed a chair for support. “I cannot—cannot comprehend,” she gasped. " In heaven’s name, what do yen mean!” “ Well played, very well layed, but it won’t work. I mean just this: hat you. Beatrice Kassinger, murdered your sister Theresa, and now you are playing her part in the life dram'i—” “0hr God! Has it come to this! Wretch! Miserable, vile scoundrel! Have you dared to come here and make such a charge against me! Was not my grief alone hard enough to bear! But y0u shall prove it! Come! Come with me to my father! You shall prove it, I sa !” She laid hold upon his arm and tri to drag him toward the door. “ Wait,” he said. "Listen. This is all very nice playing, but it will not serve you—” “ (Jews! I say. Come with me! You shall face my father! The wonder is that a just Ven- eance does not strike you dead where you stand. ome! I say. Come!’ Her voice was pitched aloud, and her com- mand imperative. Awstin tried to hold back, tried to say fur- ther, but she would not hear him. She would not let him speak. “Cranford!” she called aloud to the butler. “ Cranford! Come here quickly! Y1 lu shall face my father, you heartless knave! If he does not haVe you arrested it will be strange. The rascal now lost some of his boldness, turn- ing pale. t looked as though he had made a mistake, shrewd as he thought himself to be. He was given no chance to argue the matter, however, for the butler was very prompt in answering the urgent call, coming running into the room. " Lay hold upon that rascal, Cranford, and drag him up topapa's room, the fierce beauty ordered. “ You need take no cure in handling him gently, ither, if he resists. He is the worst viper that ever entered our house.” Awstin made a show of resisting, but he was no match for the powerful butler, who forced him from the room in a hurry. “ You need not be rough about it," the young rascal said. ‘ I’ll go along with you without your tearing me all to pieces. Remember, I am a gentleman, sir!” “ A gentleman!” sneered Theresa, who was following them. “ And you will go willingly— because you have to. Do not mind him, Cran- ford; papa and I will be responsible for all." She sprung ahead, on reaching the top of the stairs, and threw open the deer of her father’s room without ceremony. “Mr. Kassiuger, in his invalid’s chair, stared at her questioni ngl y. “Oh! Papa!" Boshe cried, and threw herself upon her kn... before him, grasping his thin hand in her usual fond way. . ‘ ' “ Great heavens !” the old man gasped. “ What is the matter , my child? What is the matter? What is it, Cranford i” “I don't know, sir: she ordered me to bring this fellow to you by force.” “ Oh! it is too terrible, to terrible!" cried the sobbing girl. “ After all we have suffered, to have this added.” “But, my child, what is it! What is—” “That wretch!” and the girl pointed at the cowering Awstin, her eyes flashin with hatred. “He says I am Beatrice, and t at I am the murderer of my sister—that it is Theresa who is dead!” With a gasp, almost, the old man laid both hands on the shoulders of his favorite child, pushed her 0!! a little, and gazed long and earn- estly into her face. She met his look steadily, her great, soft eyes swimming in tears, and he at length drew her to him, embracing her. “ Could you doubt me, papa!” she sobbed. “ Oh! could you doubt me!" “I am almost crazed, Theresa,” was the sor- rowful response. “ The possible and the im- possible are as one. I know not my own thoughts.” “ But, what will you do with this wretch who makes so terrible a charge a ainst me? What ought to be done to him? he wonder is that the spirit of poor Beatrice does not confront him here and now.” “ What is to be done, Cranford?” the helpless man asked. ' “I’d ii rst hear what he has to say, sir," was the respectful suggestion. “ Yes, yes, that’s so; what have you to say for yourself, sir! What do you mean by such a mean accusation as you have made?" “ It seems that [missed my guess, sir that is all I can say,” was the answer made. ‘ Every- body is guessing about the mystery, and this was my guess. I’m willing to take it back.” “ Why don’t you have him arrested, papa!” “ Ought I to, Cranford 1” ~ “He is not worth the trouble, sir. Give me leave to kick him out of the house, and I’ll do that for him.” “ He deserves it—vile, miserable scoundrel that be is!” cried Theresa. “ He came to me with an offer of marriage. thus showing clearly what he is, and what his intentions were toward poor Beatrice." “ An offer of marriage! The presumptuous rascal! And so soon after the terrible death of Beatrice, whom he professed to love! You dog! it would be too good for you were you tarred and feathered and turned loose. What put such a suspicion in our mind, I want to know!” “ Well, the act that your brother was poison- ed, and that his death and that of Theresa would be of great van e to Beatrice, if she could only play the rule, an take the place of Theresa.” “ Fool !” Theresa cried. ‘ May Heaven’s curse rest on you, for the mean suspicion you would cast upon my dead sister’s memOry !” “ Worse than fool !” echOed Mr. Kassinger. “ You shall he kicked out of the house as Cran- ford has suggested; and you may thank your luckv stars that we do not have on arrested.” “ Which ought to be done, urged Theresa, quickly. There was just then a tap at the door. “ Come!" A servant entered with a card. “ Show him right up here,” directed Theresa, promptly. “Papa, it is Theodore, and I have made, up my mind to a resolve concerning him. “What is that?” “ It is this: I will marry him this hour, unless you forbid. I ought to have a protector, and I think it is folly to put off our marriages. few weeks or months, when lam soin need. You, dear papa, are helpless, you know—a circum- stance this rascal ought to be grateful for, I can tell him.” “You are right! iVere I as I used to be 1 would flin‘g him from a window of this very room, let t e result be what it might!” “ I can well believe it.” Theodore Peyterson now entered, and looked inquiring] at the excited faces of these there. ' What Is wrong?” he respectfully asked. “This villain, this worse than villain," an- swered Theresa. “ He has presumed to ask me to marry him, so soim aftsr the death of Bea- trice; yet, worse, claiming that [am Beatrice!” Peyterson could only stare in amazement, while the facts were quickl y placed before him, standing with clinched fists and blazing eyes, glaring at Awstin. And as soon as he heard all, he cried: , “Mr. Kassin er, give me leave to kick this cur out of the ones!" CHAPTER XXV. snsrrcxou surroarnn. Awsrrs was returning his stare with stub- born defiance. “ You had better let a larger man undertake that job,” he said, doggedly. “ You could not do it, The. Peyterson. ’ “ I have already ven Cranford orders to do that very thing, r. Peyterson,” the aged invalid amwered. “Cranford, put him out of the house straightway. And you, sir, never show your face here again.” “ I’ll go without any force, sir. If force is used, you may hear of it again. Yes, I’ll go, and I don"t make no threats, I don‘t,” drop- ping into Bowery lingo; “ but maybe I haven’t shown my hand in full. Theresa Kassinger, I won’t forget this deal in a hurry.” “ It’s to be hoped you won’t,” snapped Peyter- son. “ If I thoughtyou would, I’d impress it with my boot.” The butler was already removing the fellow, though, and the door closed after them be- frlwe Awstin was given chance to make any re- p Y- iie was conducted to the front door, a ris- oner, and there was thrust out with orce enough to make him aware of the fact that he had not taken leave of his own free will. No sooner had he been taken from the room than Theresa turned to Peyterson, saying: “Theodore, I have just disclosed to papa a determination I have arrived at, and which I will now make known to gou, though I dread that you will think it too old in me.” He was looking at her questioningly. “I am sure anything you have determined upon must be all right, Theresa," he said. “ Well, it is this: Thuinsult of the past few minutes has shown me that I am in need ofa natural protector, and I am ready to become you’l; wife this hour if you will take me. It is— “ Bless you! my darling!” “It is onlya little sooner than the day set, anyhow, and as it is our own concern, we need not care what others sav about it.” “ But your father—Mr. Kassinger, do you reei‘ “My daughter’s will is my will, Mr. Peyter- son,” was the reply. “ I am helpless here in my chair, and she certainly ought to have a strong arm to loan upon; and as it is to be, anyhow, it may as well be now, I suppose.” “ Of course I would never say no to such an agreeable proposition,” declared the happy JOVer. Nothing that could have happened would have pleased him more than this. It was playing right into his hands. “ Then here is my hand,” and Theresa extend- ed her hand to him. “Papa, if you will send for the clergyman it can be speedily done and over with.” “ If you desire it, my child.” “ Is it not better so!‘ “Perhaps you are right, and I will do your bidding.” Accordingly a message was sent forth by the butler, and in due time it was answered by the clerfgyman in person, and the ceremony was per ormed. It was a relief to Peyterson when it was over. Now he could defy Grower Terwilliger, and pow he was sure of a finger in the Kassiuger for- une. The minister had just taken his leave when John Gale was announced. He was conducted to the invalid’s room. Naturally he showed surprise when he was in- troduced to Theresa as Mrs. Peyterson, but it was no more than natural. “ This is quite a surprise,” he remarked. “ I can offer hearty congratulations to you both. And, if you have surprised me, perhaps I will be able to surprise you in return.” “ In what wayi” asked the blushing bride. “There is one question I would ask before I tell you. That answered. I will explain—unless you have heard.” “ What is the questiOn !” “ This: Was ‘ur cousin Mildred here on the night upon wbic y: or sister was murdered!” “ She was nut. to my knowledge.” It was evident to the Lawyer Detective that none of these had heard the news, for they looked at him inquirirgly. “Then it must be true that she is out of her mind, I think. She—~” “ Out of her mind i" exclaimed Theresa. “ Yes. ‘She has given herself up to the police, saying that she, and not Will Gerredson, was the slayer of your sister.” '“ Impossible!" Theresa cried, while her father gave voice to a similar exclamation. “So I think it, too,” agreed Gale, “but she strong! y insists upon the truth of the statement she has made." ‘ “ I say it’s impossible,” Theresa repeated. “ In the first place, she was not in the house that night, and in the second place why would she put the crime upon Mr. Gerredson !’ “ She explains every point cleverly and well.” Gale thereupon gave them the particulars, but reserving to himself the facts to the con- trary which he had gleaned. And here was another fact to the contrary— the fact that Mildred Daniels had not been in the houseon that night. He could see no mm why any false statement should be made re- garding that. This had been his errand, to this point, Iand after some further couverm he tOok his cave. When he reached home he found a visitor awaiting him. ‘ The Round-Abofityvn 'Sprt. It was John A wstin. He was waiting in the reception-room, and as soon as the Lawyer Detective saw who it was he asked him up to his own room. “ Well, this is unexpected,” Gale observed, when he had seated his visitor. “ Yes, I s‘pose it must be,” Awstin agreed. “ I mi ht almost say it‘s unexpected to me my— self. ’«m here on biz.” “ As 1 naturally supposed.’ “ You are the lawyer fellow who is trying to clear Gerredson of the murder of Beatrice as- sin er, ain’t you.” ‘ I am he." “ Then you are the man I want to see. I knowed you. but I wanted to come at it in that way. I think it won’t be hard for you to do the business up for the prisoner and bring him out all right." “ After it was partly your testimony that sent him below.” “ WhatI told was gospel, every word of it. Now I‘m onto somethin’ else, and somethin’ that looks to pan big. You’ll excuse my easy talk; it comes more natural to me than the nicey-nice sort, you see.” “ Then you have discovered something new!” ” I think I have, and somethin’ that will make a big stir if you can get our grip onto it.” “ Let me hear what it s.” “ Well, my honest belief is that Beatrice Kas- singer is not dead at all.” “ Oh, pshawl man; there is no use talking that we ." Gale suspected what the fellow had in mind, something he himself had considered secretly, but in this way he wanted to draw out more. “ I ain’t sayin’ the murdered one wasn't dead enough,"Awstiu explained, “ but I don’t believe that one was Beatrice.” “ Then you think it was Theresa!” “ I certainly do.” Gale was thoughtful for some time, looking at his visitor keenlg. o This t housht ad come to him, l ut he had not dared harbor it. The very hideousness of it had shocked him. No, it could not be true. To hint such a thing would be to bring grief anew upon that family, and perhaps invite arrest, if the point could be covered by a charge that would hold. And yet— But, he did not speculate further. “ Have you any proof of this!" he asked Aw- stin. "What has made you suspect so terrible a thing!” “ No, I can‘t prove it, but I believe it all the l ‘ as me." “ And my other uestioni” “ A; good many ittle things have made me suspect it. Who would have a bigger interest in the death of Philip and Theresa Kassinger than Beatrice herself! “ Ex lain.” _. “ Wh , Theresa was rich, and the death of her unc e made her doubly so. Now if Beatrice could take her lace, don’t you see, she would be in v lover if no y found it out.” “ Would you dare to go and make this charge to her face?” “ That is 'ust what I have done, sir.” “ Hal and with what result!” “ The worst. She rose up, defied me, had that giant of a butler drag me to her father, blowed out to him, and wanted me arrested. Raised the Very dickens in eneral." “ All of which wm well for her inno— cence and for your e.” “I know it; but all the same I think I’m right.” ‘It does not look so. But who could suspect a woman of such a deed as that! There they were, twin sisters,a parently loving and happy, and— Oh, you b better get the thought out of our mind, Mr. Awstin.” . ‘ She did fire up as though she was innocent, that’s so.” “The wonder is, the rested on the spot. on had a nerve to go there and make such a charge, I must say.” “It was make or break, and —— well, I broke.” ’ “I think I understand it. You loved Bea- trice. and, she dead, you thought you would simply titushfer mgr affezittions to the other and come n or er or une. was a but it seems it did not work." 800d game’ It was now Awstin’s turn to show surprise. “Failing in that, you made this charge, thinking it possible it might be true,snd if it was, she would throw herself into your arms -andbeg on to keep the secret. .But this she did not o—further proof of her innocence and of your mistake. And now. 011'; 91 “gene, you «come to me with the same sun’me “Lawyer, you are the devil at 8110881 . I own up to the corn. But, all the same. I t D]! . it’s so, and that she is going to face the matter tothe end and win in spite of everything. If it is so, she’s, got to fight, and don’t you forget it; and sheis just the one to do it. t(90- She! got nerve enough for a whole detective force. tad if yout beat hler athhe‘r olvlvn’ game, you will ' vetoge u eary,t at". , “ You had tter give up the idea," advised Gale. tbwh he had no intention of doing so. He was to Awmn, and lave-tints did not have you ar-, for himself in a very quiet manner. “ She cer- tainly is not guilty, or she would have broken down when you made the charge against her. No, no; that is not to be thought of. And, if I were you, I would take care how I mentioned this thing around. You had better keep it to yourself. I tell you this in a. friendly way, as a lawyer." CHAPTER XXVI. PICKING HIS visitor gone, John Gale did some hard thinking. This suspicion that had been laid before him by the bafiled rascal, whose only object had been revenge, was one that had been thought of by him. It was, however, one he had not dared to har- bor, for the Very hideousness of it had appalled him. It did not look either reasonable or possi- ble, that it could be as had been suggested. And yet—well, he must prove that it was not so. ~ This was the only way to dispose of the matter in a right manner. There must be some way of getting at it. “- One thing I would like to know,” he said to himself. “ I would like to know the persons who dug up that body and removed the stomach for examination. I want to learn what kind of poison was used.” Taking out his ocketbook, he opened it and took from it a sma 1 white packet neatly folded. This he opened, looking intently at its con- tents. It held apowder, of a peculiar tint and ap- pearance, something he had newr seen before. That, however, did not signify anything, for he had no knowledge whatever of poisOns, save the simpler sort. This was the poison that had been furnished to Gerredson in prison. “ If the poison given to Phillip Kassinger and this that was carried to Gerredson in the Tombs were the same, then it would be pretty certain that the poisoner and the slayer of Beatrice Kassinger were one and the same person, and that rson a woman 7" W ile he sat loooking at the poison, thinking, a thought struck him with the suddenness of lightning. This paper in which the poison was contained —-he had seen it before, and under circumstances gist had caused him to take particular notice of UP POINTS. Where and when! “I have it!” he exclaimed. “ It is identical with the paper of that mysterious note of warn- ing I received 1” He laid the poison on the table at his elbow, and took the letter from his pocket and looked at it. It was the same kind of paper, a heavy note, unruled, having a ale tint. “ Here is something,” e told himself. “The writer of this note and the poisoner were one and the same, no doubt of it. But, the note is su posed to have been written by Gower Ter- wi liger, while this poison was placed in the hands of Gerredson b a woman.’ How could these po nts be reconciled! Did it not make it appear the more certain that Mildred Daniels hadahand in it, as she confessed? It was altogether bewildering, and it puzzled his brain to keep all the points separate and dis- tinct, one from another, while he thought it all over, trying to untangle the whole. “ I’ll pay another Visit to Gower,” he decided. “I must know whether this paper came out of that house or not.” 9 went strai htwa , and the door was 0 nod to him promptlyg. y pa “ I want to see Mr. Terwilliger,” he made known. “ He is not in, sir,” was told him. “ Then the housekeeper will do. her immediately. This was the woman, Mary, whom he had seen before, and she romptly received him. “There is some writing-paper in the house like this,” the Lawyer Detective said, positively. “ I want to get some of it. Will you oblige me?” He held out for her inspection the note he had receIVed. “ Yes, that’s poor Mildred’s paper, the woman immediately declared. “ She has some of it in her room. Isee Mr. Terwilli er has used it to write this, for I know his writ ng.” You know the writing then 1” queried Gale. :t0h, yes, sir." I am triad you told me. I was not sure it was his. Could you show me some of his writ- ‘, so that I might compare them i" No; I would not dare to do that, sir, in his absence. You had better wait till he comes in. He can’t be out much longer. I think. But, I’ll get §ou the paper if you want it." “ es, get me a sheet.” She left the room to go for it, leaving Gale al- most bewildered. It was more than he had expected, that he would find this paper here so easily and so promptly- Here was further proof against Mildred Dan- against Let me see iels, as also Gower himself. But, it looked impossible that these two could have been in the heinous work together. What was the secret? Gale ran his eye over the letter while he wait- ed. It did not, really, show guilt against Grower, but, if Mildred was guilty, as she confessed, it did show that Terwilliger had knowledge of it. His purpose had been to protect her in order that he could make use of her to his own inter- est. And yet, what of the other facts going to prove her innocent? He was still puzzling his brain when the wo- man returned with the paper. It needed but a glance to show she had not been mistaken; the paper was positively;I the same as that he had brought with him. ere, then, were proofs not to be denied. He decided to wait till Terwilliger came. That was not long after, and the greeting the bull-dog Englishman gave him was not flatter- ing. “ What do you want again!” he snarled. “ l have come to have a word with you regard- ing the note you sent me, sir.” “The note I sent you? I have sent you no note. ’sir. What are you talking about, any— how ?‘ “ You know your Own writing when you see it, I suppost i” “ It w0uld be strange if I didn’t." “ And here is a. sample of it.” Gale held up the missive that was in uestion. “ Efernal zoundsi” cried the Eng ishman. “ Where did you get that ?” “Then it is yours, as your exclamation ad- mits. You recognize it at sight. Now, why did you send it to rust” “But, I have sent you no note, young man. That I’ll swear to. Give it here and let me see what it is about, anyhow. No, it isn’t my writing, as I see now at a second glance.” “ Rather late for you to say so now, after re~ cognizing it as you did.” “ But. the paper, I never used paper like that in my life.” . “ You did so this time with a special object in view. That was, to enable you to deny author- ship of the letter, if need be.” “’Zoundsl Don’t I tell you I did not write 1‘ “ And don’t the writing prove that you did?” “If I wanted to deny it, as you charge, would I not have disguised my hand? Would l-take other paper, and then write in my natural hand? Besides, where would I get the paper! No; somebody has been forging my hand.” “ The question of getting the paper is a sim- ple one enough,,for I have just discovered it is the ind used by your niece—” “The sly cati Has she been up to such a trick as this i” “ Here is the paper, just taken from her room, and you can see it is the same. It would have been easy for you to get a sheet of it.” .. h _, “ But I didn’t, I tel you! Can’t you get that through your thick head yet? I never wrote anything on paper like that, not a scratch. That little shedevil has been forging my hand i” “ You a ply a strong name to er.” - “ Not a hit stronger than she deserves, sir.” “ Well, here! read the note, and say why she should write it to me.” - “ I have to admit that I don’t know,” the Eng- lishman said, after reading it. “ I swear, how- ever, that I did not write it.” ’ " You see,” argued Gale, “the writer of this declares belief in the guilt of Gerredson. That does not sound like Mildred Daniels, who loves the prisoner and who has now offered to take his place.” “ That’s so.” “ But here is the paper found in her room, and the writing is so nearly like your own that even you could not tell the diflerence. " “ I am puzzled, puzzled, puzzled. I wish I had never heard of that accursed Kassinger tribe in my life. Nothing but worry and trouble has ever come of it since I have been connected with them.” “ And your worst trouble now is that on cannot get hold of the Kassinger thousands.’ “ What, sir! What i” “ Your last little scheme has miscarried badly. Awstin has made the worst kind of a flunk of his part, and Peyterson has stepped in and mar— ried the girl.” Terwilliger w purple, clawed the air, and fairly gasped or breath. “ h siswhat you tried to deny at our last interview," Gale added. “ I was not guessing then, and 1 am giving you cold facts now. Theresa Kaseinger is the wife of Theodore Peytsrson and your game in that direction Is blockgd. ’rhe pair Were married this after- oon. “ He’ll repent it!” Gower cried, in hot ion. “He'll repeat it, and so will shei I’ll make them sweat, both of them!” ' “ Why will you do that!" the Lawyer Detec- tive quietlyas ed. “You denied on your dig- nityas one of the solid men of this city that you would stoop to anything of this sort. ’ “ You mind our own business,” was the sav- retort. “ f'you don’t. you may repent it. interferes th the plans I had laid for win“ «a» 3’53“ '5: ‘r " s-sm- 4,\3W.p' «- 24: O’Roud9A’bout—Tow 1? , ._ .....“...... , my niece, that’s what is the matter, and only that. , “ I know it does. You wanted Peyterson‘s fortune for her, and you wanted to place young Awstin where he could draw upon the Kassinger money-bags for you. Now it appears that you are out al around.” ” Curse your impudencel” Gower stormed. “ Get out of my house, sir—get out at oncel” “ Yes, I will do so, having finished my busi- ness.” “ And see to it that you never set foot inside of it again. too. You have been making a fool of yourself and of everybody else ever since you got the idea into your head that Bill Ger- redson did not kill Beatrice Kassinger. I don’t want to see your face again.” “ I cannot promise you that you won’t, sir, but this interview is sufficient for this time. I have learned more than I have revealed to you, and there may be a surprise in store for you before you are much older. Keep 0001, now; I’m going. I would not want to feel that. I were res nsible, should you go off in a choleric fit. If have occasion to call again, it will probably be on business that will mean busi- ness. CHAPTER XXVII. PUSHING STRAIGHT FORWARD. GALE went to the Tombs, for two urposes. One was, to see his friend and tel him how matters were pro ressing; the other, to inquire concerning the stl 1 missing under-keeper. He was now more desirous than ever that this man should be found. It was, in fact, a neces- sary part of the case, for, if he had seen the face of the woman whom he admitted that night, he held the clue to the whole. As we know, he did see her face. Gale had not expected to find his friend, the warden, in, but he happened to be on hand and there was a cordial greeting. “ Have you got hold of that missing man yeti” Gale asked. “ No; but our men have struck his track at last ” was the reply. “ hat is good, for now he is wanted badly. Gerredson’s fate may depend on him entirely.” “ He will be brought here, I think you can de- nd on it as settled. One of the keenest ferrets know is after him, hot." Some further exchange, and Gale went in to the cell where Gerredson was confined, an inno- cent man as the Lawyer Detective so stron ly believed —-a belief shared by few others indeed. “3e11, are you ready to give up?” Gerredson “ Not b any means ” the positive answer. “ Li ht is ning to dawn, I believe.” “ certain y hope so. But, tell me, have you cleared Mildred yet? Have you shown that it was impossible she could have done the deed i” “ She insists that you are lyin , lying to save her, Will. That you saw her see, and rather than a: bier suflfi you wilibear thiggtrilme ,our- so . n , proo s appearing er. “ That is nonsense, John. 5%: I know who killed Beatrice Kassin er I would tell, let the blow fall where it migh . There is no soft senti- ment of that falsel heroic sort about me as you ought to know. 0 it is not so; Mildredbaniels is telling a false out of the whole cloth.” “ On that we agree, in spite of all, so far. You ' have told me you did not see the face of the woman who came into your cell that night and left the lean with you, I believe.” “ The ’s right.” “ Well, can you say whether she was old or young, b her appearance?" “I to) you she was gone almost before I had time to observe her but by her movements I would say she certainly was not old." “ You could not recognize the clothing.” “ It was too dark to see.” “ Was she large, small, short, tall—did you notice 1” ~ “She was about the medium size, as women go, I should say, the brief look I had of her.” “an more: Do you think it can have been Mildred Daniels!” Gerredson started. “ W hat has put that into your head?” he asked. “ I could not say that it was, or was not, she.” “ There is a s icion in my mind that it may have been she. hat poison was in a piece of henv note-paper, you remember, and I have fonn some of the same kind in her room.” “ Impossible 1" “ The plain and sim le fact. That irl is a mystery, and so are al the facts with w ich she is concerned.” “ But, her innocence stands its own proof. She was not the girl to kill any one, no matter how great the provocation. And least of all her own cousin. It must be she.is mad.” “ Which would be the worse, for cousin to kill cousin or sister to slay sister?" “Heavens! What do you mean i” “ Do on think it ,possible that Theresa can have k led Beatrice? “ My Godl no! You hinted at that before. What do you meant Do you dream of such a thin as possible!” ' “ oppose it had been Theresa that was killed, would you think Beatrice capable of having done the awful deed i” “ No, no, no, John, it is madness to talk thus. What can you possibly find to support such a suspicion? It is madness.” “ Think about it, think about it till I see you again, but say nothing. You may be able to re- call something that will be of use to me.” “ You have taken away all hope of sleep for me for this night, John. I shall torture my brain till morning about this terrible suspicion you have named.” “I’m sorry; but, if that is the case I hope you will torture the truth out of it all. I’ll leave you now and let the torture begin. When next I see you I may have news.” ' “ I hope it will be good news.” It had been Gale‘s intention to go yet again and see Mildred, with the new points he had gleaned, but when he left the Tombs he decided it was too late. Instead, he went out to the Bowery and bent his steps in the direction of the English ale-house where he had already met with such good suc- cess in his newly-assumed Mle. He wanted to fall in with Awstin pére if poasi- ble, to have a talk with him concerning the resurrection he had witnessed. Luck favored him, for he was almost the first man he saw On entering. Gale laid a hand on his shoulder. Awstin gave a start, looking quickly around to see who had him. “Good-evening, Mr. Awstin,” Gale greeted, pleasantly. “ How good is your best health this evening?’ “ You have got the best of me, sir,” the rough man declared, in something of a startled manner. “ M health igofiood enough though, thank ’e.” “ hat is g , glad to hear it. So, you don’t know me, eh? Well, that is no wonder. I know you, however, and want to have a talk with you. Let’s sit down here, and it’s my treat.” Hu h A wstin complied, but eyed the detective sharp y, suspicions that all was not right. Gale was now vs ithout any disguise, and it was not likely the man would recognize him as the one he had seen there once before. “ In the first place, Mr. Awstin,” the Lawyer Detective tried to reassure, “ I want to tell you I am not your enemy and mean you no harm. All I want is a little information.” ' “Tell me who you are, then. police 1” “ No, sir; I am a lawyer. My name is Gale. You need have no fear of me; I only want to talk with you, to get some factswhich I happen to know are in your possession.” “ All right; set your mill to runnin’, and we’ll see about it, then. “ Well, don’t be startled when I begin. I want to learn something about that resurrec- tion you witnessed on the night of the tenth.” Awstin stared at him in wonder, his eyes at their widest. “ What do I know ’bout any resurrection l” he demanded. “ You know something about it, and maybe enough by this time to help me out in the point I am after.” “And what is yer p’inti” “ I want to learn who the persons were who took that body u , and what it was done for. Can you tell me t at!” “ I simply can’t.” “ Because you don’t know i" “ That’s just it—because I don’t know.” “ Would ten dollars sharpen up your memory any. think you!” “I’m giVing it to you straight; I don’t know who the men was at all. But how did you git onto it?” “ That does not matter. You have the proof that I did, anyhow. Do you think you could find ’out who these persons were. if I pay Are you of the how I’d go about it, at this late da . I lost my chance when I didn’t foller them t at ht. lf I’fd damn that, I might have made somet in’ out it. " It isn’t too late to make something out of it at if you can only put me on tree of them. Tell me about the affair, will you!” “Yes, I don’t mind, seein’ that you have got your p’ints straight and know I was there and the more ’s ially as I didn’t have any hand in that business. Don't make no mistake on that ’int.” “ h, I know that; I know you had no part in it.” “ All right, then ; if you have got that straight, I’ll tell you all about it. It ain’t much to tell but it was a good deal to see.” And the man related the facts of the matter substantially as they had taken place. “ Can you describe the men 1’” Gale asked. “ Yes, in a way. One was a big, tall fellow, in a big cloak, and the other was shorter, with a heard. The short one was the one that done the carving. The other was only a common fellow brou ht along to do the work.” " on didn t know him!” H No." “But you would know him if you saw him again?” ' u “ I ain’t promisin’ that I could. Don’t know" “I might and I mightn’t; can’t say. I 'lidn’t. notice him over well, anyhow. I have been kickin’ myself ever since for not follei in’ ’em.” “ Well Mr. Awstin, will you agree to do me a favor?’ Gale finally asked. ” Yes, if it’s anything I can do, and there‘s anything in it,”was the conditioned reply. “ It is all right in both respects. If you do, by any means, get on the track of these fellows, will you let me know at once who they are?" “I will, certain.” “Then it is a bargain. All you will have to do will be to leave word at the ofiice of IIough &. Brief,” giving their address, “and I will meet you here as soon as I get it.” This the rough fellow agreed to, and while they talked on the younger Awstin put in an appearance. He was surprised, naturally, to find Gale and his worthy father in company. “It is all right young man,” said Gale, promptly; “it is all right, old man; we are known all around, and no need to hang back. Sit down, John, and join us in a social draught. There is no reason why we should not be friends.” “ May as well be that as anything, maybe better. That other dog is dead, dad, and the jig is up. Shall I speak out before this gent? Well, it is all up; but, if we can only get on the track of that night-job you know about we may not be out of the clover yet. Maybe there is a cinch in it for us, if we can only get onto it in shape.” CHAPTER XXVIII. HALE mains AMAZEMENT. AWSTIN the father wanted to know what had miscarried, of course, and when the worthy son was assured that Gale was “in it,” he made known. “ And that’s the very business what brought this gent to me, Johnny,” said the father. “ There may be wool on the stars yet, if we can help "him out and git on the track of these men. “That‘s what’s got to be done,” the young Bowery sport declared. “We are out of it, now, after the secret has gone into other bands; and it puzzles me to know how you got onto it, sir,” to Gale. “ We’ll have to help this gent out, and trust to him for a divvy.” " And I want your help,” Gale assured. “ It need not matter, as Isaid, how I got hold (f ydur secret, since you know I have it. Iain playing the detective, you know, and if you will play it with me you may render great help in saving the life of an innocent man; for you can rest assured that William Gerredson never killed Beatrice Kassinger, condemned though he “ Do you know who did it?” asked Awstin pr’re. “ If I didi, my work would be done, or nearly so. No, I 0 not, but I am on the right. track, thou h there is not much light ahead ye ” “ ow about that so icion you had, Johnny f” 2‘ égai’pst old Terwllfigeri” ‘ es. “1 don’t give it up. The way he’s fishing for that fortune makes it look a good deal sue-- picious in his direction. Don’t you say so, Mr. Gale?" “Appearances count for little in this dark and terrible game,” the Lawyer Detective made re 1y. “ Look at the appearances against Ger-- son. And see how the proof is coming up to an port the confession made b Miss Daniels. I tefi ou, circumstantial evi once is not to be, reli on.” “ Then you don’t belieVe in it?” “ It is all ri ht to hold a person on it, but when it comes taking the li e of a suspected rson on the strength of it, that’s going too it u. “ Just what I’ve allus stuck to,” averred Mr. Awstin, with vigor. “If you can’t at eye- witnesses to a crime, he mighty care hi how you 0 ahead to hang—or execute by ’tricity, whic I hold is worse. “ Then you wouldn’t like that, ehi" “ Give me hangin’, every time i" Gale made such arrangements with these fel- lows as necessary, and took his departure, leav- ing them talking together. One thing he desired, now, was to have a strictly private talk with Leonard Kassinger, and late as the hour was, he made his way from the Bowery to the Kassinger residence. . He thought he might find t e old man still up, and if so, he would pmhtbly be alone, he named. His in uiry of the butler prayed the correct- ness of his guaning. . Mr. Kassinger had not retired, but was alone in his room, readng and writing. He seldom retired earl . ' Gale was {dmitted and greeted cordially. ‘ “ I have poms for a private talk, sir,” the Lawyer Detectiva made known. “ It is upon a matter of serious moment, too.” “And I shall beglad totalk with you,"the poor invalid made onse. “ I am eager and anxious to do whatever may be in my power to aid on in your effort to clear your friend.” “ on are still of the same mind, then, that it is possible he is innocent?” .. - <——.I The “ it has never seemed possible to me that he can be guilty, Mr. Gale. Would that he could be cleared.” It was said despairingly, as though there was no hope. “There is only one thing that can clear him, Mr. Kassinger. That is, the crime must be placed upon some other person with stronger force than it now rests upon him.” “And that looks like an impossibility." “ It does, truly. But, to the matter that brought me here: Are you aware, Mr. Kas- singer, that a terrible suspicion has been breathed against your living daughter? A suspicion al- most t00 terrible to be named.” . The old man paled, and his trembling in- creased. ' “Yes, yes, I am aware of it,” he ansWered. “That rascal of a John Awstin had the impu- dence to breathe it here.” " It is a report that must be silenced at once, Mr. Kassinger. How best can it be done, do you think?” “I do not think the scoundrel will dare to breathe it further, for we have threatened him with arrest if he docs.” “ Still, it was he who brought it to me. I did my best, however, to lead him to drop it, telling him it was not safe for him to be spreading such a report. It is just possible he may take my advice.” " Ought we not to have him arrested?” “That would be to make the matter public. No, the best thin is to disprove it, and make it so plain that the ellow cannot doubt. If that is done, I will take it upon myself to silence his ton e.” “ hat proof is needed, then!" “ You know in full what has been hinted at?” H Yes.” “ That it is Theresa who is dead, and that this other is Beatrice, playin the réle of her dead sister, after having mur ered her. The twins looked so very much alike that this was possible —that is to say, more correctly, it is madeto appear possible, spite of the horror of it all.” ' Yes, yes, that is it!” “ But you, the father, could not be blinded.” “ Not easily. I have talked with Theresa, upon matters which Beatrice could not possibly have had any knowledge, and there is no doubt.” “ Then you did have a slight suspicion!" “ It seemed to me that I did notice some of Beatrice’s manners in her, but a close study Shith-fd me it was only imagination on my part.” _ “ And now you are well satisfied regarding the matter? It is a heinous suspicion to enter- tain for a moment, Mr. Kassinger; but we are not doing that, we are clearing it away.” “ Yes, I am satisfied. The girls have, in times past, fooled me regarding their identity, in play, but in the earnest of every-day life that would be impossible. No, it is folly to think of such a thing, and that rascal who breathed it had better take care. . _ “ What first put the idea in his head?” “ The scant ideas of fools are not to be ac- counted for air. If you see him, impress it upon his mind that he had better not breathe the . hought further, if he desires to keep out of trouble.’ “ I will do so.” Gale had thus gained the point he wanted, the knowledge whether the father had any suspicion against his child. He was satisfied that he had not, for Mr. Kas- siuger was one who could not easily conceal his real emotions or ruling thoughts. '1 here was no longer a doubt in his mind, plainly. Still, he had a suspicion, sufficiently to lead him to put his daughter to the test. Would that count for anythin ? Was it possible that this woman could be we an artful thing as this would imply? No, no, it did not look either reasonable or possible. “ Since you have come to me in this way, Mr. Gale," the invalid went On to say, “and since you are dispOSed to clear the terrible thought away from my child, I will tell yen something more.” “ And what is that" “John Awstln was not the only one-is not the only; one who has that thought, or one nearly d as be . “Ah! is that so?" " It is so. You recall what you told us about your discovery that the body of my brother had been taken up, of course. ” “ Certainly; I could not forget. “ Well we have had a call from the man who did that thing.” Gale’s heart dgave a leap, but he 'put on the breaks hard an did not let his excitement be seen. “ Yes!" he said aim 1y. , “Yes, and a rains-sable matter it is, too. I’m going to tell on about it, for you may be abletosee further uto the thing than I have been able to penetrate. That man was a detec- the." “ ludeedl” " Y9; and, strangest of all, he was employed by my dead daughter to do the work. What do you make of this?” - . -,.. .. _, Gale was staggered. What new aspect was this most wonderful case about to assume! “ I know not what to make of it,” he truth- fully answered the question. “Can you give me the name of this detective?” “No, for I did not think to ask Theresa for it. She will know, however, and I’ll call her and find out. She [113 not retired, for she has not been to say her good-night to me.” “ No, do not call her, at any rate not yet. Let me know all about this matter first. I am deep- ly interested. Is it certain that it was your daughter who put this case in his handsi” “ Yes; and there was a strange thing about her manner of doing it. She gave her name as Theresa, and when the man came here to re- port what he had discOVered it was a matter of surprise to my child. Was there ever such a mystery in the world before as this?” “ t is certain that I never came upon one to equal it, sir. What possible object had she to gain by saying her name was Theresa?’ “Impossible to guess. She went to the office of tins man some time ago, and engaged his services for the purpose named. She said she suspected Philip had been poisoned, but she wanted the matter kept a profound secret, and it was arranged that the detective should ad~ vertise as soon as he had done the work and she was then to go again to his office.” " And he did so ad vertise?” - “So he said, and getting no response, he came here in person, asking to see Theresa; and great was the shock and surprise to her.” “ I can well imagine it.” “8) the great question is: Whom did Bea- trice suspect? Why did she suspect? That de- tective scamp hinted at the possibility of my Theresa’s having poisoned her uncle, driving the poor child almost mad. He said the police might entertain that theory, if the knowledge came to them. Supposing for a moment it was Gerredson who killed my child, was it he who isoned Philip? And what were the motives? ave I done right in telling you this! Any- how, it is done. Can you help us in arriving at the truth of it all!” CHAPTER XXIX. MURDEROUS ASSAULT. HAD J )hn Gale been a veteran professional instead of amateur detective, he might have been able to control his profound amazement at what Mr. Kassiuger had been revealing. lie might have been able, but it was almost enough to have betrayed even the most staid and sturdy veteran into committing the un ro- fessionil offense of showing surprise. An , as Gale was only an amateur, his face did betray something of the great emotion that stirred him. And the thoughts, too, which surged upon him, were almost too many, and came too thick and fast for him to handle. Was Mildred Daniels suilty? he asked himself. Was this the secret Beatrice had known? Was it possible Gerredson wastelling a falsehood to clear her— No, no! As soon as it came t i the integrity of his friend their] it came to something upon which he could ui . What then? Had Theresa killed Beatrice! or was this Beatrice who, having killed Theresa, was living in her assumed identity ? Or, was it suicide, after all? If that, how bad the crime come to be fastened upon Garredson? No; eni- cide appeared to be out of the question; that had been a settled point from the very first. There was no use looking at it in that light. Could it be that Theresa was the guilty one, in spite of all? It did not look reasonable, in the face of her treatment of Awstin when be accused er. “ Why don’t you say something?” the feeble old man urged, as Gale did not offer response. “I am too greatly puzzled to say anything, Mr. Kussinger,” was the reply. “ This mys- tery grows deeper at every step.” “ It is almOst driving me mad.” “Your daughter came to you as soon as this detective had accused her as you have told me, did she? That is what I understood.” ” Yes, as soon as she had ordered him out of the liouse—” “ She did that?” “ Most certainly she did, sirl Would she, in- nocent, hesitate one moment in that?” Gale had to admit to himself that it was the natural thing, holdin her innocent. And all the appearances, so ar as her acts were con- cerned, pointed to her entire innocence. " You think she has not retired!” “ I know she has not, sir." ' “ Will you call her now?” The invalid touched a bell at his elbow, or rather, the button connecting with a bell, and in a few moments Theresa entered. She bowed slightly to Gale, stegfling promptly to her father’s side and taking hand in her old familiar way. " What is it, papal” she asked. ' “Mr. Gale has come here regarding that ac- cusation Awstin made, and We have been having a talk.” The girl ve a start before he ended, and looked at G e in a frightened manner. Bound:Ab0ut-T9W SW:- 25' “The wretch told you. that?” she demanded. “ He did,” Gale answered. “ Then he shall be arrested, papa; he shall not be spared longer. I care nothing for what the public ma think or say.” She sai it with all the fire of aroused indig- nation. “ No, no, not so fast, my child,” the old man spoke rapidly. “ Mr. G lie is going to attend to him. He Will see to it that the matter is speedi- ly h'ished up for us. I have told him about the detective.” The face of the young woman paled instantly. “ Why did you do that, papa?” she cried, in tone not easy to interpret. “ You have by so doing exposed the good name of poor Beatrice to suspicion.” “Have no fear, Theresa; Mr. Gale is seeking only the truth, and if this Will help him, let him have it by all means. If he can rove the innocence of his friend and put t a crime where it belongs, we ought to help him in. ever way possible.” “ es, yes, that is true; I was unreasonable in my blind first thought for the memory of thendead. You know what the detective hint- ;‘ What was that, Mrs. Peyterson?” Gale asked. “ That it might have been Beatrice who i- soned our uncle, and who, thinking she been found out, or unable to carry the burden longer, took her life.” “ But, suicide was out of the question.” “ Who was there to see how it was done?” That Iitfuestion seemed to be a clincher; at any rate G e did not follow up the same line fur- ther. “ By the way,” he asked, “ will you give me the name and address of that detective, Mrs. Peytersoni I will go and see him, and by hav- ing a talk with him I may be able to get at. the gruth.” _ ” h red fl am so sir, s e answe promp y “but I do nrgty’recall what it was. He di leave a card, but I was so indi at that I burned it without looking at it. do not even recall now what his name was. He was a tall man, with rather a dark face, and that is about all I can ve you.” She spo e openly and frankly, and there did not appear reason to doubt her. “ It is too bad,” the Lawyer Detective mused aloud. “Finding him, I might be able to clear my friend, even though it fastened the crime upon Miss Daniels.” " That would be horrible l” “ Not to be compared with the horror of the crime. I tell you, no matter where it falls, when I find the guilty Person I am going to bring the truth tolight. . would not spare my own bro- ther, were he villain enough to endanger Will Gerredson for his own safety 1” He did not speak in a loud tone, but his words were forceful and his manner earnest and im- pressive. “ A friend worth having,” murmured Theresa. “Push on, and may your labors be rewarded. No matter Where it falls, bring the guilty one to justice. I cannot think Mildred guilty, though why she should confess it is beyon my power to imagine; but I cannot speak so confidently about Gower 'I'erwilliger— God forgive me for saying so! I mean, if Gerredson is innocent.” Never had she spoken more earnestly in the hearing of the Lawyer Detective, and her man- ner impressed him favorably in her behalf. The matters were talked over quite at le h, and the hour was late, indeed, when ale de rted. is mind was busy as he walked homeward, and he paid little or no attention to his surround- ings, merely noting his direction close enough not to go out of his course. He had roceeded some distance, when a pecu- liar soun behind him caused him to turn his head quickly, and he was none too soon. Right upon him was a man, hat pulled down over his face, and in his hand a knife raised for murderl Just behind the would-be assassin was a tall, dark man, sprin ing forward to the rescue, though he would ave been too late had Gale not turned, for the blow was already aimed. The knife descended, but Gale’s turning and now his starting back an it came at him, he escaped the blow, and the force of it almost turned the murderer around. The next moment the tall man caught hold of him by the collar and gave him a fling that sent him staggering out into the street! “ Wh didn’t you hold him i" cried Gale, half- , 33‘. _ an . “But, I‘ll have him l” « My blunder,” said the an man. “ But. he can’t get away.” He, too, started to run, but in doi so be sot ‘ in the way of the Lawyer Detective, t ere was a com-100i Bud both came near to measuring their length on the pavement. ‘ Confound you for the stupid ass you are!” Gale exploded. “ Now that fellow has got awa l “ on ran against me, sir; it was your fault as much as mine.” “ You should havo held him.” “ And get his knife plunged into me. 1 gas. ' .rywws; a as 31.3,}.- f'. . ., ,3. . <3 26 not. Myonly thought was to sive your life, foil-,yvhich you do not appear to be thankful at al . “ I had cleared the fellow’s blow before you came near enough to interfere in any way.” “True; but if I had not made the warning noise that caused you to look around, where Would you be now? But, no matter, it is all over and you are safe." “That puts it in a different light, sir," and Gale,offered his hand. “May I ask who you i “ Oh, that does not matter at all, sir; we are strangers. and as such we may as well remain; you‘i e w -lcorne to the small favor, I'm sure.” And (1 swing away, without taking the prof- fered hand, he started to go. “ Hold on, just a word more,” Gale requested. The man paused. “ Did you know that fellow?" “ Certainly not, sir. Do I look like the asso- ciate of murderers?” “ Not at all, sir, not at all; still, I thought you might have some knowledge of him. When did you first notice bimi" . “Just before he struck at you, sir. I was suspicious of his actions, and at the moment I gave you the alarm I realized what he intend- ed doing. That is all I know, sir; good-night.” And with that, and a wave of the hand, he walked rapidly away. Gale looked after him for a moment, then turned and started on his way, when some- thing drew his attention. On the ground at his feet were several bits of p .ner, as they looked to be, for it wasdark j'lst there, comparatively, and he stooped to gather them, finding, on touching them, they were cards. Taking them all, and making sure nothing further of the kind was to be picked up, he passed on. As seen as he came where it was light enough to do so, he examined the cards to learn some- thing about them. They were plain name and business cards, bearing the name of Bear Henry, and stating his business as that of pr vate detective, with the address. Some had only the name alone. This was something to set Gale thinkin . Of a sudden he started, as a new thought struck him. The detective who had visited Miss Kassinger was a tall. dark man! “He lied to mel” the Lawyer Detective ex- claimed. "He was following me or that assas- sin, one or the other, for some purpose. He 1?!” ,probably following him, and if so,,)mew m. For some minutes he stood undecided what to do, but finally went on his way and entered his lodging. He had the satisfaction of knowing one thing —or of believing one thing, at any rate: His ition in the great murder case had made Ki; dangerous enough to some one to lead to an attempt upon his life. Hence, he reasoned, he must be getting close to he guilty person, and his belief in the entire innocence of his friend was well established—that was, in his mind. He must now have the proost CHAPTER XXX. AMATEUR unoouurnns PROFESSIONAL. WHEN the Lawyer Detective left his room the next morning he went forth carefully armed. He had been carrying a revolver all along, but now it was where he could get at it with the least possible loss of time, in the true West- ern style, a trick in which he was Well versed. The first business of the day as planned, was a visit to the ofiice of the detective, Henry Henry. He wanted to have a plain talk with that gen- tleman about the case. Through him he must reach the doctor who had made the examination of Philip Kassinger’s stomach, an important ste . The hour was early, and he was the first caller at the detective’s Office of the morning. As he opened the do r and stepped in, he I caught just the shadow of an expression of sur- prise on the detective’s face. “ Good-morning, Mr. Henry,” he greeted. “ Mr. Gale, good-morning,” was the response, civilly given. “ You know me, then?” . “As you have the proof. I saw you at the inquest of the Kassinger murder, and again at the trial of William Gerredson.” “The explanation is simple. I have come to express my thanks for the great favor you ren- dered me last night, and to have a talk with you’on other matters as well, if you are will- 11 . ’ . E Particularly the talk, as I can easily under- stand. I now know where it was I lost the cards out of my vest pocket. That was an unpardon- able blunder for a detective to make but acci- dents will hup ,n to the best of us. i‘low that we understan each other, go ahead.” Mr. Henry spread himself in his chair, one foot on top of his desk. “ What is your honest opinion aboutthis Kas- singer mystery, Mr. Henry f" the amateur Law- yer Detective asked. , “ I consider it a plain case of suicide, sir. in I spite of all evidence to the contrary. *'»‘1>-...V«n : J n, . Your The Round-About—Town Sport. i “ You believe your friend innocent; you do friend, Mr. Gerredson, is an innocent man, Mr. ! do not believe it was suicide; whom, then, does Gale.” “ Oi" the latter I have the fullest belief. _ how can you hold it to have been a care of am- your suspicion rest upon? Maybe a hint will I But, I enable me to help you out.” “ As you have refused the kind of help I most Cidc, when cxp‘rt testimony has been given ! needed, I do not require any other sort, Mr. showing the impossibility of such a thingi" “’Expert testimony is not always infallible, sir. ’ “ You must have a theory, then.” “I have. That knife was in such a position that the dead girl’s band could not have driwn it there, but ims any thwught been iiven to the fact that she may have cast herself upOu its point, against the table or on tho il mri" “ Do you hold such a thing possible?” “ Can you say it is impo : sime reason, took his life. A secret of some kind was shared between them, and it was ,1 something that demanded the sacrifice of their ‘ lives-J “ Hold on,” the attentive woman ordered. She had been paying cl0:est atten'ion to every word. “ What is the matter?” “You are going too far. That theory will ‘5 never w0i'k. The double suicide is out of ' reason, unless the reason for it is given. Philip Kassinger was murdered, sir, and my sister - held the secret of that; there is no other way around it. It was for this she took her life. Now, who wins it killed our unclei—or, whom did she suspect?" “ Was it possible that she could suspect you ?" “ No, that was impossible, for she could have but for your sister’s suicide and the accidental 109i of her written confession, together with the damning evidence that appeared against Ger- redson. I foresee no trouble, if you exercise all i the care and nerve you are capable of in this 1 no gr mods for such a suspicion against an inno- : cent person." " Let me see, then what you can suggest.” “ it seems to me I have paid my money for 1 ineffi :ient help, Mr. Henry.’ “ You know better than any one else what that money was paid for, and what the balance of the ten thousand is to he paid for. You cannot, then, suggest anything?” “ I cannot, sir.” “ Then let me take a fresh start. When yen I interrupted me and told me I was wrong, I {thought Iwould let you set me right. As I ; said, your uncle’s death was plain suicide. Your 1 sister was not sure of it, 'but she suspected it. 1 She had been the innocent means of providing him with thepoison—seei She felt that almost as badly as if she 'had murdered him. She had to be sure on the point, you know. She paid me five hundred dollars to perform the work for her—you remember on lent her that amount . about that time, not nowing what is was for. Every circumstance must be made to fit every 1 other, you understand. No. no, do not inter- rupt me; I understand your point of objection 1 before you raise it. As she took her life before l she had heard from me. you were about to say, she did so without the proof that her uncle had , killed himself with the poison she had innocently 3 provided.” “ You seem to read my thoughts, air.” “it is my business to read thoughts and— srcrets. But, to explain the important point: I On that night she discovered a paper which gave ‘ her the knowledge she desired, and knowing her I hand had given him the poison, though inno- , cently, she was no longer able to endure the | horror of the t'nought, and so wrote her con— 1 fessicn and ended it all. And now we come i to the m itter of explaining away the circum- stances that have combined to bring the crime home to an innocent man. This, at first look. does not seem easy, but let us see. Openly, I have suggested that possibly she did it on pur- pose, havingpo no t: dislike him, but that Wlll not do in this scheme, and the more so as this must be different from anything I have men- tioned to anybody. The fact of the matter is, he is innocent entirely, and thatii all there is about it. In her written confession, which you are sure to find somewhere in the house, she will mention the dagger, say h w she came by it. and forbil emphatically that any suspicion of murder shall attach to any person.” “ But, sir, such a confession as that would be found in the most open place in which she could have placed it.” ‘ “ Certainly; and when you discover it, it will be found to have simply mislodged from where she evidently laid it, falling out of sight. It must not be found stored away like a hidden Will or something of that sort. A little study on your part will solve the whole mystery, ex- cept perhaps the reason for your uncle’s suicide, which isn timportant. And then people will see how little reliance is reallyto be placed in circumstantial evidence.” " But whatif Gerredaon still cannot account for the blood on his coat?" “ And he certainly cannot; be has had ample time to explain it if he would, but he simply cannot. Never mind that point. let it take care of itself. The points raised by his lawyers will have all the stronger bearing, and it will be accepted as the fact that he must have rubbed against blood somewhere without knowing it. It was argued,you remember. that the blood on his coat had evidently been daubed there and not spattered, and there was nothing on the dress of your dead sister to show a similar smear,showing where he had got it. The prose- cution, however, disposed of that bv s lying the appearance was due to his having tried to wipe it off soon after doing the deed. No. no; let his case take care of itself, so far as that is con- cerned. The letter of confession. in your dead sister‘s well—known hand, will be all that will be needed to clear him. The matter is very simple, after all, when one sees through it. and Gerredson will be acquitted and people will be sorry they misjudged him as they have done.” “But the other writing that has been found—” “ Will count for nothing, now. The lovers’ quarrel was nothing, after all; thousands of worse quarrels can be brought to light. if need be; it would never havo been thought of again .3 x.‘1_’..' . , you will find the sum in full agreed upon. nutter. lt’ you fail—well, you will be out just five tuiusand dollars, and will hare me for a wi'ncs< on the other side. My standing is too high for any story of yours to d i me harm. I say this to disabuse your mind of any idea of that sort that may suggest itself to you. And this is all. The day the matter is settled, and William Gerredson goes forth a free man, cr as min after ward as possible, you may pay me the balance that will then be due. And you are getting my services cheap, all things 0 insiders-d. A receipt for the money! Mrs. Peyterson. pray do not take me for a fool, even though you may be well satisfied that i am a knave. Let me bid you good-morning.” CHAPTER XXXll. GALE svoass A BIG POINT. SOON after the departure of the veiled woman from his ofii :e, Detective Henry came forth and walked away down the street. The I .awyer Detective had not left his post, and giving his man lenty of advance. set out to follow him, with allpthe care he could exercise. He kne v if he once aroused this man’s suspicion he could gain nothing. But the professional had no thought of being followed, evidently, for he did not once trouble himself to look around, pushing straight ahead toward his objective point, wherever it might be-nnd Gale had little hope that it would be the place he desired-to learn, so soon. In this he was destined to be pleasurany mis- taken. The man finally sprung lightly up the steps of a well-todo house and rung the bell. Gale could not turn back. or do anything but; go straight on, which he did, at the same time doing his best to carry on the deception he was playing. and he passed the house just after the door had cloned behind the detective. , Henry had not looked in his direction, he knew, for the recess of the door had concealed the professional from his view, and he hid not stepped back into sight again after going up. And, as said, he had entered when the Lawyer Detective came where he mi. ht have been seen. As he passed the house, Gale glanced at it as any one might casually do, but as he did so a n riveted his attention. t was a japanned tin placard on the right of the door, and on it was this wording: \ “ PAUL KAYSLEE, M. D." Gale felt like shaking hands with himself, al- most, for he was sure he had discovered the man he most wanted to find in this same Doctor K-iys- lee. He did not pause, but passed straight on, turned the corner, Went arounl the blouk. and came up again in the same relative position to the house which he had occupied when approach— in . Est us follow the detective. ' He had inquired for Dr. Kayslee, and the doctor greeted him in his ofii e, where he hap- pened to be disengaged at the time. “ Well, Doctor Kayslee, it is all. right,” the detective cheerfully announced. “ I have seen the party, explained the matter, and what we dreaded would be an ugly situation has not so turned out.” “ I’m glad to hear that. for the matti r has been on my mind not a little. It was terrible, to have that murder come right on top of our night‘s work—” “ Suicide, doctor, suicide.” “ Hal has it been proven so, then!" “ N); but that’s my belief, hard and fast.” “ How do you explain it?" “ I don’t explain it at all, air; can’t; merely give you my opinion.” And the detective gave the doctor such n view .of Kassinger affairs as would best serve his own ends. " Yes, it does appear as though it may have been suicide, poor child l” the doctor remarked. “ W hat her secret was will probably never be known. And, the police ought to know of this matter, Mr. Henry.” “ The family are going to make it known, shortly. Of course I have held our name back, but if ccmsion requires we wi l have to appear and tell what we know. If so, there will be pay for the service, so that need not trouble is great- ly. since we have done nothing criminal.” “It was nothing to be proud of, in the manner of the doing of it.” “ N o matter, my reputation as a detective is your shield. and I am responsible for it all.” “ Well, if it becomes necessary, of course I’ll give my testimony regarding in share in the Work. It is all I can do. and if t will s we the life.” of the young man I will givo it most glad— 1‘All right; if it comestothst I will let you now. Here is the balance of your piy, Wigch n- egg you have to testify in the matter, \ our work is done. And, l’m greatly obliged for the ser- vice you have rendered." ’ . ,;l",¥‘V r r K 4. “rm-'4 Pv'l'x ~v ’u ..5 as" ' mWawm-w- - 5,- “an 3'. 's. 5:3“.3. _.s 28 The- Roeeitéheut-Tewn__§pért- And so they parted, and the detective left the house and retraced his steps in the direction of his (flies. The Lawyer Detective was strongly tempted to (“ii on the doctor at once, but after thinking it over decided it would not do. He had no means of knowing what Henry’s errand had been, and thought he might spoil his own chances by putting in his appearance so soon, so decided to delay his visit a little. He had not forgotten his intention to call ain on Mildred Daniels, and having madenote o the dOCtor’s street and number, set out to pay that visit now. Mildred was found in a melancholy mood, and with her was Julia Carvingham, acting the part of nurse and companion, so far as the office of nurse was needed; it was more the nature of guard. There was no sign of recognition between Gale and her, and at a signal from him she with- drew. “ Well, Miss Daniels,” were Gale's first words, “ the proof in support of the confession you have made is beginnin to appear.” She started, pa ed, but immediately reassumed her melancholy state of unconcern. “ I hope, then, you are ready to believe me,” she said, sadly. “ Yes, if some minor points can be cleared away, Miss Daniels, I shall have to believe u. “ And what are these?” “ In the first place, how could Will Gerred- son get blood on him in passing you, or you ing him as you claim, when you positively find no blood on your own clothes? That is one point in the way.” “ But I had blood on me; my whole sleeve was smeared with it." _ “I happen to know better; you have on the dress now you had on that ni ht, and Iehave seen and examined the same sac y0u wore.” “ But [—1 changed them. That is,” in some confusion, “ I had on an old sack which I threw away before I went home again. So, you see, you have not made so great a point in my favor.” ‘ Can you prove this?” “ Well, maybe not, but I say it's so, and I’ll stick to that. “ Which is not satisfactory, if you cannot prove it. Then, you were not at the Kassinger residence at all that night.” “ Who says so?" “ No matter; the fact is well enough known.” “ Can you prove I was not there!" “If your case comes to a trial, I shall en- deavor to do so, by showing just where you were that evening.” “ But you began by saying the proof of my guilt was beginning to appear. In what man- ner do you mean? You have not told me any- thin to show it in that light.” “ have decided not to tell you. I see you are treasuring up every little point, and I guess I will hold these in reserve, for it is not necessary for me to go about seeking your conviction ” “ You will have to do that, in order to set your friend free.” “ I do not believe it. I hope to free you both, if things work as I now think they will. Why did you not tell me you recognized the paper on which that note was written when I showed it to you the other day?” “The paper!" “ Yes; you knew it was like paper Beatrice had used.” The girl flushed, then paled, hardly knowing what to say. If she had noticed the paper, she had forgOtten it. This moment of confusion, however, was all the satisfactory evidence Gale got in payment for his (flort for the next moment the girl was ready with her keen retort in support of her “or? “ on mean the note you supposed Uncle Gawer had written l" she exclaimed with a faint smile. “ I wrote that myself. It was on paper such as I use, and such as you will find in my room this moment. Have I not got you now, sir? You thought you had me fast.” Here. though, was his second chance. “ You have not got me very badly.” he denied. “ You profess to love Gerredson, and you have in this note, if you wrote it, done all in your power to hang him. That is a poor way to show your love.” “You can’t understand a woman, and on never will." was the prompt rejoinder to t at. “ Can you not see tha I was angry with him be- cause he did not love me!” Gale, took out his pocketbook, and from it took the small packet of poison-he was carefully preserving. “ Then it was you who wrapped this poison in the same kind of paper, was it!” he de- manded. She stared at the powder, and then at him, for the moment hless. ‘ “ You see t e paper is the same,” he called at- tention - “ wa'm did you get it?" she asked. “ Tell me where you left it,” his counter-quot Olen, imperativer put. “ No, I will not,” she refused. “ You can see by the paper I know all about it, though.” “ Yes, but the paper is not all, this time. Do you imagine you can guess where the remainder of the sheet is from which this piece was out?” She stared, wonderingly. It was enough for him; he was satisfied she had never seen the paper before, as well as that she had not written the note signed Observing Friend. He had replaced the packet in his pocketbook carefully, and that in his pocket, and now rose to take his leave. “ I am more satisfied than before that you are innocent,” he declared. “ Then you are further than before from the truth, that is all,” the quick response. “ Your reason for taking this desperate step. Mildred Daniels, was for the one purpose ( f escaping the persecutions of that rascally guardian of yours." She looked at him. “And in addition to that when you became desperate you came to the resolve to attempt to sacrifice yourself and save, if possible, the life of the‘man on love. You need not tell me I am right; know it.” “ Little fear of my telling you you are right.” she answered, sadly. “ Death Will be welcome, none theless, rather than the fate Gower Ter- williger had in store for me. That, however, (ices not make me innocent of the great crime I have committed, and for which i must die." With a few more remaiks Gale left her, and outside spoke to J ulia. “ She is innocent, Mr. Gale,” the girl said, earnestly. “ Her mad love for Mr. Gerredson is the secret of her action. But for the hope of saving him, she would have killed herself to escape that devil uncle who has been goading her to desperation. My own re ard for Gerreil- son was nothing as com red w th her devotion, and Isurrendereveryth ng in her favor. i know, now, that I was only blindly charmed and noth- ing more. This I say to you because yOu are m friend.” Ore was said, and when they parted John Gale had something new to thin about. The case was beginning to have a double concern for him. CHAPTER XXXIII. , DETECTIVE GALE FLoomtD. EARLY in the afternoon the Lawyer Detective set out to pay the important visit to the office of Dr. Paul Kayslee. His ring at the bell was answered by a trim- looking colored youth, who showed him into the doctor’s office, where two or three patients were waiting to have their ills attended to. There was an inner office, and presently the door of that o .ned and a wenian came out. A moment ater a mild, bearded face appear- ed, the owner saying; “ Now, next in turn, please step in here." A man rose in response to the call and went in, and this was repeated until at length Gale was the only one there. “Now, sir, what can I do for you?" asked the doctor, coming out and addressing him in the reception-room, seeing that he was the only one of the batch left. . “ I have not called as a patient, sir,” the Law- yer Detective answered, “ but on a little matter of business.” “ Ahl Very well, sir, [will hear what you have to say." “ You are Dr. Keysleei” “ Yes, sir.” “ I wanted to be certain on that point. You are considered something of an expert in the matter of poisons, I believe.” “I am occasionally called upon to analyse. sir. I am, besides doctor, an analytical chemist. Is there something in this line on want me to do for you! If so, I’ll be gl to serve you.” “I have- here a small quantity of poison,” said Gale, taking out his pocketbook, “ vfliich I want you to name. It is no trifling matter, but one of greatest importance. I say this, so that {00: ,i’nay, if necemary, put it to the closest t He had now taken out the small packet, which he delivered into the doctor’s hand with extreme care. “The man and manner convince me there is something important at stake, sir," the doctor said, “and I will make doubly sure I am right before I speak.” He rose to go into the inner room. “ May I accompany you, sir?" Gale asked, also rising. “ it is important that I should not lose sight of this powder for a moment. It may be called into question if I do.” “ Yes, you may come in,of course, sir. Your serious manner leads me to ask if you are not a detective!” “ I am a law er, sir,” Gale explained. They n'o the office proper, the doctor still tel ng; and,making ready for the tests, the work was begun. At the first test a look of disappointment came over the doctor’s face—a look that deep- ened when the second test had been applied, and aloud he muttered: “ Well, I am fooled. at first. I took it for a simple poison, but if it is a poison at all, it is something beyond that. I will test for some- thin different, as l have the means ready at han . It is hardly likely it can be that, how- ever.” Clearing the deck for action again, so to speak, he applied a further test, and immediate- ly an exolamation escaped him. “ Is it possible!" he cried. “ I am amazed. I had occasion to test for this very poison not a long time ago, which accounts for my being pre. pared fir it. This drug is-” . He named it—a most powerful, p01son, indeed; one not commonly known. “ New , sir,” Gale further requested, “ will you take a small portion of this and put it in an- other packet, and carefully preserve it, marking both packets sothat you can identify them again under oath, if necessary, and also provide me with a written certificate of analysis!" “ Why, sir, it seems to be more than usually important.” “And it is. Do not be anxious, it is in an honorable cause, and your pay is ready hr ou.” “ Don’t mention the pay,” the doctor waived disdainfully. “ if the matter is honorable I’d serve without pay, if need be. Yes, I’ll do as you ask, sir, as you are clearly in deep earnest.” “ I was never more in earnest. It is a matter of life or death.” The work was done quickly and well, and the doctor then sat down in his chair and leaned back, asking: “Now, sir, are you willing to tell me some- thin about this matter?” “ have one more question to ask first,” re— sponded Gale. “ Upon your answer to that will depend everything. ‘ Well sirl” “ Is this lson Doctor Kayslee, the same as that you ound in the stomach of Mr. Phili Kassiuger, which you examined not long ago The doctor gave a great start, looking at his visitor wondering] y. “ What do you know about that?” he de- mended. “ I know all about it, sir,” was t‘se reply. “ Please answer the question, and I will then ex- plain further.” “ Tell me, first, who you are." “ My name is John Gale.” “ Hzil you are the lawyer who is working to clear Mr. gerredson of that crime of murder.” 66 a . “ Who directed you to me?" . ‘ " Well. your question is prudent, sir; I learned of you through Detective Henry Henry.” “ That is enough, sir; that is enough. I will tell you everything you want to know. Yes, this is the same poison that was found in the stomach of Philip Kassiuger. There is enough here to kill forty men.” “ How much of it was found in his stomach I” “ Nearly half as much as you have in this packet.” “ A small quantity would have done the work as well?" “ Even with better efiect." “ Then the person who gave it evideutl knew little about it, save that it was a d y p01. son?" “So it would appear.” _ “ Now, can you tell me where such p01son can be bought? I want, if possible, to learn where this was prorured.” “It is in the stock of any strictly first-class chemist, sir.” “ Has it a common name i” “ It is sometimes called . ‘ . “Would it be given to a person asking for it without prescription 1" “ Very probably not, unless that person was known and could give a gOod reason for want- in it.” F‘ That is all I will trouble you with now Doctor Kayslee. I may have occasion to oali on you again, and anyhow you will be called as a witness when the time comes to have the mat- ter sifted out.” By this time some patients had again gather~ ed in the reception-room, and after a few passing remarks further Gale tOok leave. He was highly elated over the succe- he had won. And, too, he could not but wonder what would be the amazement of Detective Henry when he learned the use he had made of his name. Gale had told no lie- he had indeed learned of this doctor through r. Henry, but the pro- fessional detective was entirely without any knowledge of having imparted the information. N w the next move Ggle'thought well, and decided to follow up his auceeos by trying to make it the more com- 10”» p Renaming his slight disguise. he made his way to the neighborhood of the Kassinger resi- dence, taking note of the drug-stores in that vicinity. He entered the one nearest the house. There heasked for the drug the doctor-chemist had named, but was told it was not in stock. “ Do we knew of any one near by who does keep it i” — H ,- Ti}? ROPW‘AWW “ No; it is expensive and seldom called for. ' Reaching home, he rapped at the door of Mrs. You can probably ii nil it over at De More’s, on Fifth avenue; but it is doubtful whether you can buy it or not.” " I do not want to buy; I want to inquire con~ cerning some that has been sold. I suppose you kn0w of Dr. Kayslee?” “Oh, y s.” - “ Well, I have gotten some information from him, but not enough; I must learn where a cer- tain purchase of the drug was made. I Will drop around to De Moro’s and inquire there." “ You may be able to learn what you want to ‘ know.” Gale did not go there immediately, however, but made about the same inquiries in the other stores in the neighbuhood. with more or less unsatisfactory results. Finally he set out for the place to which he had been directed, feeling that he was but fool- ing away time to no end, thinking there he would be more likely to gain something defin- itc. On his way he passed the window of a dingy- loo‘iing drug store, over which was the sign— “ Deutch Apotheke.” He had gone some distance when the thought struck him that he was throwing away a possi- ble chance of learning something, since this shop was on a direct route from the Kassinger residence to the avenue. Still he went on, till at last the thought so impressed him that he stopped short and went back. (lale could talk German fluently. He said. in that language, he had dropped in to learn the name of the party to whom a quantity of the drug in question had been sold about a couple of months before: speaking as though he knew such a sale had been made. “ Yes, I did sell some about that time,” the “apotheke” acknowledged. “I did not have it in stock, and sent out to get it, the reason I re- member. It is a thing so dom called for, owing to the expense." “ To whom did you sell it!” “ I can tell you that in a minute, sir; just let me get my book.” Gale’s heart was heating with more excite- ment than the cold-blooded detective ought to allow, but he could not help it. “ Yes, hereitis,” the man presently announced. “ It was over three months ago. It was sold to a Mrs. Carvingham, of West —th street. She bought it to kill a large favorite dog of which the family had become afraid.” John Gale was so taken aback that he knew his face must betray his amazemenr. He had been fixin his attention solely up n the Kas- sinfer fa ynow, and here the proof was turned su denly inst the very house in which he had taken lodgi. How was he to understand it! What con d e make of it! He was nonplused. CHAPTER XXXIV. vrcrosr ALMOST assuaan. Tn Lawyer Detective thought for some mo- ments before speaking further. All his former suggestive suspicions against this woman or her daughter came back to him with renewed force. The dagger taken from Gerredson's room, the chance to put blood on his coat was there per- fect, and here now the fact that she had bought the very poison which had kined Philip Kas- singer. But was there no room for doubt? “ Was this woman known to you i" he asked the druggist. “She was not,” was the answer, “ but I found her name in the Directory, and so believed her story.” “ Could you describe her?” This was done, and Gale had to confess it was not unlike the daughter, Julia, though the do scri tion was not in detail. T nking the druggist for his kindness, and letting fall the hint that there had been at least an attempt to use the poison for another pur- Eoeeomz'Gale left the place and turned his steps One point he could not understand. Why bud Mm Cminshsm. or Julia—as it more likely had been—why had she come so far from home i0 9‘7 “30 son! She must have had some know edge of he place, orperhaps had tried every other store in vain. The old druggist had admitted that the wo- man had not asked for that drug in particular, but had told the story of the pet dog and asked what would be the quickest and least painful poison to give it, and he himself had suggested the ——-. And, he had directed h0w to ive it. Further, Gale had been particular to as if he would be able to iientify the woman, should he see her again, and the man was positive he would know her at sight, no matter where. There had been nothing nervous or excited about the customer, he explained, and her story had been simple and straightforward. .She had apt used German, but English, in talking with In. All of which points the Lawyer Detective stored away carefully for future reference. \. Carviiigham’s sitting- room. She was there, and bade him come in. “ What became of that big dog you used to own, Mrs. Carvingham?” he asked, after some passing remarks: “ A big dog! Why, sir, I never owned a dog in all my life.” “Did you not, on March twelfth, buy poison to kill a big dog with i” “No, penitively. What are you getting at?” “Are you willing to go with me to the shop of a Dutch apothecary on -—- street, to see if you can identify a signature on his book?" “I am, sir, perfectly willing.” “ Very well. I Will go and bring your daugh- ter, for this is a matter of deepest concern. Say nothing to a living soul about it, but be ready to go with us when I return.” She promised, and Gale hastened on. When he confronted Julia be promptly and seriously demanded: “ For whom did you buy that poison on March twelfth at the little drug~shcp on ————- street ?” Her ook was one of such genuine amaze- ment that he could not for a moment doubt her innocence. “ Why, I never bought poison in my life for any urpose,” she declared, most emphatically. “ on are quite sure?" “ I will swear to it, if you desire.” “No, I will not ask you to do that, but you must come with me to that shop and see if you recognize the handwriting of a certain signature on his book.” “ Which I will do cheerfully, for I would not have such a suspicion as you have named rest upon me." She was quickly ready, and stopping on the way for her mother, in due time the Lawyer Detective conducted them into the shop of the dru gist where the suspicious purchase had been ma 6. “Will you show me that book again, friend i” he r nested. “ es, with pleasure,” was the ready compli- ance. It was ogned to the place where the signature was, and ale called the atttention of mother and dau hter to it. i “ G heavens l" gasped Mrs. Carvingham, in a startled manner. “ My own name and ad- dress. as I live.” “ Why, mamma, when and why did you ever come away up here?" demanded Julia. “ Is that my writing?" the mother de- mended. The daughter looked more closely, and rompt- 1y decided that it was not. It was noth g like her mother’s hand. This, however, was not Gale’s point, and he now asked the apothecary if he could identify either of these as the one who had bought the poison of him, and he was positive in his state- ment that neither was the ma. Gale drew a breath of reflzf This proof served, now, to convince him the mmMcughly that his other suspicion was homeward, Gale havin first told the he would probably cal again to see him, and as they walked to the nearest cars, Gale said: “Well you are both cleared, and promptly, too, of this sea icion which has been directed toward you. hoever it was bought that poison, it was some one who knew of you and your house, Mrs. Carvingham, and I think I can now lace my finger upon the very person.” “ ho was it! “ I dare not reveal the name, yet. It is bound togcome out in a short time now, and it will be a sensation, I promise you.” At the cars e left them, taking his way once more toward the Kassinger residence. His every movement, now, had to be a study. A little mistake on his part mi ht give rise to suspicion, and make his chance or success the more difficult. It had been a matter of study to guess who it was had made the attempt on his life, but now he believed he knew, and seeing everything in the new light, the wtole matter was plain. The visit of Theresa Kassinger to the office of the private detective was significant. He knew not what had been said there, but he suspected a good deal. She had once ordered him out of the house, highly indignant, and here sh'i'lsloufiht him Sisal: ofilce, secretly. e aw er tive bell W right track.y eved he as on the chug: hlie reiaiahedb th: Kassinger home he s m n a o - tered his course. u some the”, “d ‘1 He would, he decided, let matters take their own way for a time, while he awaited the ar- rest of the runaway keeper from the Tombs, who might be the holder of so important a link in the chain of evidence. With this uppermost in mind, he went to the Tombs now. No, the fell0w had not been heard from fur- ther, but something definite was expected at ang momrnt. co The three left the shop and turned their drum ale expressed the hope that it might be , Peyterson, together with Jadson, the Kassinger speedily realized, and went in to the cell where “awn.-. .n, r» _ -Town S ort. his friend was wearing away the weary hours (fit his terrible confinement, uncertain of his ate. “ I am glad you have come,” was the greet— ing. “I have not had an easy moment since I saw you last.” “ Why, how is that?” “ Thinking about what you said at parting. " “I had reason to believe it would keep your mind busy till I came again.” “ The thought has not left me for a moment, and, terrible as the idea is, it has grown upon me till I cannot shake it off.” “ I am now well assured it is the truth.” “ Then you have made further discoveries i" “I have. Would that 1 had a photograph of Beatrice Kassinger, but I dare not take the risk of trying to get one. I must wait patiently and abide mytime.” “ Ha! I believe I can help you out, there!" “ You have one?” “No; but I know who has, and that is John Awstin.” “ Ha! Excellent!” . “ She gave it to him to anger me, and I sup- pose the rascal has it yet; there is scarcely any doubt about it.” Gale talked with his friend for some time, giving him the particulars of what he had been doing and what he had accomplished, and final~ ly went away, leaving the poor prisoner greatly encouraged. He had ere this learned where to find young Awstin at almost any time, and in less than an hour he found him. “ I want a favor of you,” he said. “ What‘s that?” “I want you to lend me the photograph you have of Beatrice Kassinger.” “ You detectives beat the deuce for finding out things. I won‘t try to deny it, seeing there’s no reason I shoul'l. Come to my lodging, and it’s yours.” They set out, Gale talking freely, as it seemed, but at the same time guardedly, and in due time the prize was in his passession. As he looked at it, he could swear it was the picture of either girl, as thought might for the moment direct. If Beatrice. it was Beatrice' if Theresa, then it was she—that was, her 11 e- ness. It was late in the day when he next presented himself at the shop of the apothecary where the poison had been bought. “ Back again i” he was in surprise. “ Yes, and with anox her woman for you to identif ,” was the reply. The grgggist g‘ancei‘l at the door, as if expect- ing some y else to follow in, and Gale smiled. ‘ No, she is here in my pocket,” he said. He drew out the photograph and gave it into the man‘s hand. “ That’s her i” the apothecary cried,with more force than grammat cal correctness. “That’s the very woman who bou ht the poison l” Gale almost trembled in his so ressed ex- citement. Victory was now his, he new. On] one thing more, to learn positive] whether t was Beatrice or Theresa that was sad, and his friend’s innocence would be established. But how carefully must he handle the case nowl Not a dream of suspicion must be amused. 'v-iLLAINY ovnanonn. Warn John Gale went home to his lodgin for the night, after the excitement and wor o: the day, another surprise awaited him t ere. It was in the form of a letter from Hough & Brief, under a special-delivery stamp, and it called for his presence at the ofiice at ten in the morning sharp. The Kassingers had discovered new and im- rtant evidence, was stated, and were to be here at that hour to present the facts. It was believed it would clear their client. Here again Gale was all at sea. It was a ion time before he could fall asleep, and, when he _id, it was to dream fitfully that the whole affair was only a huge joke, after all, and that no crime had been done. Bright and early he was up. and was at the office long before the hour appointed. “ We had no doubt about your being here- early enough for a chat before the others come,” said Mr. Hough, in greeting. “ What in the name of mystery is in the wind now ?" Gale eagerly asked. ' ing that the case was one of suicide, after all.” “ Impossible!” “So it seems to us, but that remains to be 89911. There must be fsomething in it. or their first concern would not be to save Gerredson, as their coming direct to us goes to prove.” “ I’m staggered,” Gale bad to admit. “ I have been working like a beaver, and had an- other theory almost prove", as I thought. I have always said circumstantial evidence is the most treacherous thing in the world. and I’m more convinced of it than ever before.” A few minutes after ten came Mr. and Mrs. housekeepe . CHAPTER XXXV. é “ A written confession has been found, prov- 2 30 it - Tliéfll'fiodebout-Tovvn Spo. U I Theresa. carried in her hand a folded letter, upon which she seemed to have taken a grip that was not to be broken easily. The letter lwas something, evidently, she did not care to ose all took seats.- “ You are here on the matter of business men- tioned in yonrim course,” said Mr. ough. “ Yes, sir,” answered Theresa. “As I told you then, we have found a written confession, in my dead sister’s writing, and here it is.” She handed over the letter as she spoke. “ Where was this found, madam?” the lawyer asked. “It was found where it ought to have been discovered on the Very morning of the discovery of poor Beatrice’s body, sir. She evidently had placed it on the table, but it somehow became dislodged and dropped into a crack and fell down into the hollow upper support where the legs join.” ‘And on claim it ought to have been dis- .covared t are that morning?" “ I meant, sir, it ought to have been found on the table, had it been where she clearly in- tended to leave it.” ' - “ That crack must be a wide one.” ” It is, sir. It is where the table joins, and as the table is old it is seldom closed. I have seen it so wide apart that 1 could put my finger in. A shock will jar it open easily." “ And who found the letter?” “ The housekeeper, Jadson, here. She and I were in the room, and she was dusting. When she came to dust the under part of the table, shenfound it, and drew it out and gave it to me. “ Was this the first time the room had been dusted since the tragedy 1” “Yes; it was the first time for a general sweeping, sir. Things have been alldisarranged She spoke to Gale, offering him her hand, and , l since the awful time of the inquest. We had no i heart to do anything at all, till fol‘t'ed to it.” “ The explanation is satisfactory, being all in reason. NOW, let us see what the confession has to say. I suppose it can be shown that it is in her writing beyond any doubt!” “ That is easy to prove, sir. Any quantity of her writing can be produced for Comparison. There is no doubt. If there was, I would be the last one to bring shame upon-her memory.” She wiped her eyes as she said this. Mr. Haugh had now taken the letter from its envelope, and he proceeded forthwith to read it Out aloud. It ran thus: “DEAR PAPA AND THERESA:— "Can you ever forgive me for what I am about to do? I cannot bear the horror longer, so must end my life. I am innocent of any wrong, but the terrible secret I carry is eatin m heart away. God forgive me for m d w an it shall have been carried out! ymy hand innocently, Uncle Philip was poisoned, and I’feel as thOugh I were really guilty of mar- der, for it was I who procured the poison for him. I wish I could die without the shame of confessing suicide, but that I dare not do» 199‘ : Tomb, the crime be thought murder, and some one be suspected of the deed. Leaving this confession, I have no fear of us ng the dagger with which you will find my rash deed to have been done. took it from Mr. G.’s room one day when 1 called, and he was out. He will see how little I care for him when he finds the base use I make of itl I procured the poison for uncle innocent ly, be telling me what to buy, and where to buy it, but when his death it ,1l0wed immediater afterward, then I suspected and set out to learn 7 at first looked like an impossible task the truth. I employed a detective, to take the body up and have it examined. This, Theresa, will account to you for‘the use I made of the money I borrowed. Shortly afterI had seen the detective, though, I found a written word of confession from uncle to papa, and knew what I had done. Ohl it almost craze-.1 mel I cannot carry that secret and live! SJ. I bid you good- by. 1 do not know why uncle killed him~elf, but I suspect it was owing to his ill health, for you know he hroooed over that a good deal. I can to you and to the world. I have not been happy, I l l l l l | | l l for it is my nature to be otherwise, I think, and 1 if I can only sink into nothingncss, and never me if you can, and keep this letter and the knowledge of uncle’s shame from the public, if possible. No one can be suspected . By my own hand I die. “ BEATRICI KASSINGER.” “ P. S. The detective will discover the truth, and if he comes to the house, as he will when I do not keep my agreement with him, give him money to keep secret what he has learngl. K ” As he concluded reading, the lawyer folded the letter, looking around at the others present while doing so. , “ You will leave this letter in our hands?" he asked. , l l “ Yes, sir,” the young woman answered. “ It ’ must be used to clear Mr. Gerredson ” strange than ever, if possible, how that blood came on his coat. Can you account for it, madam?” “I cannot, sir. I think now he has told the truth, and that he does not know how it came there. He must have rubbed against something with blood on, and without knowing it." “That must be it, for it is clear enough now rtant note of yesterday, of i that he isinnocent.” “There is no longer room for doubt.” “ What do you think, Mr. Gale?” “ This letter is the very best thing that could have happened," the Lawyer Detective declared emphatically. “ My friend will now walk forth a free man, and the world will see how it has misjudged him.” “ And I will testif in his behalf only too gladly,” Theresa dec ared. “ I am glad the truth has come to light at last, and you have only to call upon me when I am wanted. I am glad the truth has been learned before it was too late. If it had only been found as Beatrice in- tended i” There was further talk among them all, con- gratulations all around, and woen the party left the office it could be seen they were in better spirits for having performed a duty in simple justice t i an innocent m-in. John Glle waited until he saw them on the street before he said a word, and then, turning to Mr. Bough, he cried: “Unartl that letter as the apple of your eye, Mr. Honghl Itis the best bit; of proof I could have got hold ofl Take the proper steps to put it in evidence at once, and meantime I’ll go on with my work.” “ You don’t believe in it, then i” asked Hongh, in some surprise. “ Believe in it! Why, sir, it stamps itself the’rankest bit of rascall y forgery I ever heard F orthwith, then, Gale let him into the secrets he had discovered, and neVer was man more amazed. It was too unreal to be true, and yet the rod was there to support it. “ ' ave no fear of my losing the letter, sir,” he promised. “I will be its guardian day and night until you have accomplished your work. The end is not far off, now.” ‘ , “ Why has this letter appeared at this late date!" Gale questionei. u “ gave you forgotten her visit to that detec- ve “ N 0; do you suppose he has had anything to do with it?” “ What you have told me of his visit to the house goes to prove that he knows the truth.” “ And you suspect—” “That his silence has been bought, but that he would not a ree to kee the secret unless Gerredson could freed. e would not have any part in taking a life by holding his tongue.” “ I believe it must be as you say, sir. I‘ll have them, one and all. Y0n go on as though noth- ing was suspected, and I’ll attend to springing the trap that will be death to them. Yet, spite of all the proof we have, it does not seem pos- sible it can be so.” When Gale went out he went straight to the His friend the warden had good news for him. Word had been received that the runaway had been caught, far in the West, and was being brought back again a sadder if not a wiser man. At this Gale was overjoyed, almost. Everything seemed to be playing into his hands, now, and the outcome looked certain. It was with a light heart he went into the cell where Gerredson was as patiently as possible awaiting the result of his efforts in what had The light on Gale’s face cheered him, even be- fore he h'ld spoken a word. “ What is it?" he eng: rlv asked. “ The game is ours,” Gale answered. have only to set the trap and take it in.” And he told what more had taken place since their last interview. ” Now," he proceeded to ask, when done, “ think well, and tell me if either Theresa or Beatrice had a distinguishing mark of any kind, H I ll say no more: I have no more to say. Goal-by I w“ you 9"" hard on “ I have heard that spoken of, John, and have heard it said that neither of them had.” “That is bad, for I hoped something of the l n more realize being, that is all I ask. Forgive ’ kind could mahown' “ If it were only a romance, non', so that the strawberry blrthmark could be shown on the pink-and-white shonlder-blade—but, that is al- ways in story.” “Well, never mind, when that runaway jailer is brought back he will, I hope, be able to iden- tify the woman who brOught you the poison, and if so, that will be all the proof we shall need. That is, if he saw her face, and there‘s the rub." - CHAPTER XXXVI. coxanrnto Tan cmcnl. Tau: Lawyer Detective left the Tombs with the fact firmly impressed u n him that the question of identity was go ng to be a serious . one. ‘ “ Yes, it must be used for that. It is more In either event, the living sister was in E a bad situation in her relation to the crime that ' had been done, but he must be able to show whether or not the living one really was Theresa. How was this to be accomplished? lie bethought him of John Awstin oncc more. He had kn0wn the young woman well, and something of this kind might have been told him. Awstin was found in one of his usual haunts, and was eager to learn all that had been devel- oped in the matter, but, afraid to trust him with anything really important, Gale told but little. “ But, you wanted to see me for something, that’s certain,” Awstin rightly guessed. “ You have hititstraight,”Gale admitted. “I want toask you if you ever heard of a distin- guishing mark on either There~a or Beatrice by which the one could be positively identified.” “ BY George! you have made me think of something that would be of use, if it came to a question of identity.” “ What was thati Give me the particulars, and in payment I’ll give you, in a day or th, the liveliest sensation you er‘l‘ heard of in your life. I have it in part now, but then I‘ll have it all.” “ Well, it came of Beutrice’s fondness for cycling. She and I used to go out frequently 1 :st year, that is to sav, as frequently as I could steal her away from Gerredson and others, and one day she met with an accident. lier wheel ran away with her down the side of a bank—it was out in the country, you understand, and she ran into a wire-fence." “What can that have to do with the point in question?” “The wire was of that infernal barbed kind, and asshe fell against it one of the barbs caught the underside of her right arm, cuttinga gash almost from elbow to arm-pit. If it did not leave a scar it is funny. We had to go to the nearest doctor and have it dressed.” Gale gave his hand to the fellOW, thanking him for this, and, bidding him hold a still tongue for a time, hastened off to another quar- ter. He went now to see Mildred Daniels. “Another question to trouble you with,”he said, having drawn her aside so as tospeak in private. , She was in the same state of mind as before, evidently determined to play her role to theend, desperate enough, in her desire to escape her uncle. to accept whatever came to her. “ What is iti” she asked. “ About that cyclin accident your couain Beatrice met with la summer. Do you re member it?” “ Yes, uite well. It about cured her of her fondness or that sort of thing, for she gave it up almost entirely after her arm got well.” ‘t‘ilgo you know whether that cut left a scar or no “I know it did. There was a little white, thread-like line nearly the whole length of the under part of her right arm.” “ That is all, and I am greatly obliged to you for the information. I suppose you still insist that you are guilty of killing her?” “ It you can prove to the contrary, do so; un- til ou do, I am guilty of the crime." he Lawyer Detective smiled, and went away. Now he had something upon which to work— something that would give him the desired proof l Without loss of time he obtained from the police and other proper authorities the right to open the grave of Beatrice Kaszinger in Green- wood, and, so armed, went thither, taking proper and competent witnesses with him. The work done need not be described in de— tail. Both arms of the dead girl were examined critically by every person t f the party, par- ticularly the right one, but not a seam or scar was anywhere visible! The Lawyer Detective was now in possession of proof positive f r what he had suspected, andto establi~h which he had wrrked so per- severingly, and, so armed, could now go ahead toward an endirg. But he couhl afford to wait a little. If the evidence of the runaway jailer could be had—that is, if he had seen the face of the so- mnn who had bribed him, that would make his case so much the stronger and the confusion of the guilty wretches all the more confounded. The confession that had been discnfered was kept no secret; the paper! #0?! b0“ 0f lllt Bml the persons who came up ready With the" “I told you sol” were legion. But the end was not yet. It was a couple of days longer before the run- away jailer wes' brought back, and Gale was promptly notified of his arrival. The arrangement had been that he should not be questioned regarding the mysterious woman until Gale could have the opportunity of being the first to put the questions. “ This is the fine fellow we have been looking for," the warden said, by way of introduction. “80, vou are the runaway, are you?" Gale greeted him. “ Did you have time to spend all the money the woman gave you!" ..___.~..J;a --‘ Ave i “ There wasn’t no woman, nor nothin’ of ther kind,” was the stubborn growl. “ Oh, but we know better than that,” Gale de— clared, smiling. " We have proof for all that. We want t ) know what lel did with her body after you killed her for the rest of her money— ’ “Good heavens!” the fellow gasped, pale as death. “ I didn't kill h. rl I never seen her after I let her out, and I didn‘t go till a good while afterwards. I don’t know the least thing about her; that I’ll swear to.” . “ Maybe it wasn’t the woman we think,” Gale observed, aside to the warden. “ It is possible,” the warden agreed. ” And if that’s the case, of course this fellow can’t be held for murder. My man, did you see her face?” “Yes, yes!” was the eager answer. “ I seen her face in the moonlight where it came in at the window by the steps next to that fellow’s cell. I seen it plain, when her cloak fell back.” _ “ And she was an elderly lady, very dark and "inite wrinkled, with—” “ No, no, no!” the man hastened to correct. “ She wasn’t nothin’ of that kind at all, sir; she wasgoung. and pretty, too.” “ on are sure about that!" “ Yes, I am. She did have white hair on, though, or somethin' white on her own hair, in front, but when I seen her face I knowed she was oun .” “ Voulfi you know that face if you saw it again!” “ You bet I would!” “ See if you find it among these photographs, then.” The Lawyer Detective had procured a couple of doze-n of photographs 0 women, among which he had put the one obtained from young Awstin, and these he gave into the prisoner’s hands. The fellow ran them over rapidly, till he came to the one of Beatrice Kassinger, when he stop- ped short. “ That’s her i” he declared, holding the picture u . p“ Get out i” cried Gale. “ Impossible! You are clear of! now, my man. “ That’s the one, ’ the fellow insisted, em- hatically. “ Didn’t I pick it out on sight! Don’t you s’pose I know what I know?” “ What better proof do we want?" Gale asked, turning to the warden. “ You are my witness to the test in the matter, and to the promptness with which the fellow has made his selection.” ‘ “It is all that can be desired,” the warden a-sonted. ” And you will hold the fellow as a witness, of 4 course.” “ He will be held; never fear.” “ But, it ain’t no murder ob, is it!" the man asked, in fright. "’Cause i it is, I ain’t in it, thatJ’ll swear to.” - “ No you are all right, my ood fellow," Gale assured. “ You are only he] on the bribery charge, and as a witness on another case. You will be required to tell in court what you have told us here.” “ All right, all right: if that is all it is, I don’t care; but if it was anything like murder, then I wasn’t in it.” “It is nothing like that; the worst that can he pen to you will be on the bribery question.” he prisoner was locked up, and Gale took the opportunit to tell Gerredson how complete the chain had I: made. From there he dropped around to the office of Bough & Brief, where his face told its own story before he had need to say a word about what had been accomplished. “ Well, the thing is done,” he gladly an- nounced. _ “ Have you been able to cover every pomt?” asked Brief—Mr. Bough was out. “Every one, sir. Not a thing has been left undone. The circle is perfect, and that beauti- ful monster cannot escape.” “But how about Detective Henry? Have you thought that he ought to be entrapped, too, if he is concerned in this thing in the manner we think? Mr. Hough and I havo been talking it over.” "In In one object to clear Gerredson, I ad- rlnit 1Tb almost overlooked him. What can be rone “ If guilty, he must be taken with the rest.” “ Most aBSuredly.” , ‘ “ But, if a rascal, he is a wily one, being a detective, and no doubt he has taken means to forestall his exposure if anything miscarries in which he is concerned. He must be taken red- handed.” “ What is his reputation f" ” Scaly, but he has never been trapped fit my '0‘ hi! trickS. If you can do it, you will put a feather in your cap. ” “ What conclusion have you and Mr. Hough reached?” “ This: that we take the rosecution in with us, and show our hand and have Gerredson set free. That the first step. If Henr is in the villainy, it is only to win a reward or holding his tongue, which he will robably not do unis. “ edson is saved from t e chair.” I see, sir, I see, I see. If guilty, he will probably comein for a reward when his plans T139 Reundeebeut-Tvfipfi- ' have been brought to success. I have no doubt. now, but he was the promoter of this letter of confession. It came out, you notice, shortly al‘ter,the visit of the young woman to his of- “You think the same as we, sir. If he is guilty, he must be trapped, and the only way to do it is to lull him to sleep and then pounce down upon him when he isn’t expecting any- thing of the sort. And you are the man to ( o it, as you have proved.” CHAPTER XXXVH. SPRINGING ran SURPRISE. ALL of one accord, the is w yers and the courts speedily adjusted the matter of William Gerred- son, and he was pardoned, or exonerated, and let go free. The same with Mildred Daniels, who when it was so clearly shown that the case had been one of suicide, confessed that she had played the part merely to escape, in her desperation, the persecutions of her uncle. She had little cared what became of her, and if she could save the life of him she loved she was willing to do it. She had the idea that her simple confession would be accepted without question, and that she would be put in the dis- mal Tombs cell and he Would be liberated. Now, t‘emun Peyterson having married, she had nothing to fear in that direction, and Gower Terwnlliger had received a hint from competent authority that he had better go slow in his de- algns against the friendless girl. In fact, she did not again make. her home under the same roof with him, but took up her abode in the Kassinger residence upon the invxtation of Leonard Kassinger. Nothing strange could be thoaght of this, since Theresa and she had ever been intimate friends. In fact, it was looked upon as a most desirable arrangement, and it was one that pleased Mr. Kassinger highly. Theresa having married, of course her time was not her own as it had been before, and another arrangement of the household was to provide a nurse for Mr. Knssinger. And who could fill this post so acceptably as J ulia Carvingham, recommended by Mildred Daniels? 80 it was that two of the Lawyer Detective’s aides were placed in the house without suspicion, chiefl v for the purpose of seeing to it that Leon- ard Kassinger did not share the fate of his hro- ther Philip. _ Besides this, they were to act the part of de- tectivas in Gale‘s interest, who was determined not to give up until the truth had been exposed to the ight of justice, and the guilty one made to suffer for the deed she had done. This was the understood agreement. Gale and Gerredson roomed together in Mrs. Carvingham's very exclusive establishment, and together were quietly at work on the case, with at es to help them seeking to entrap the wily and rascally detective. One evening as they were together in their room there came a tap at the door, and Julia Carv ngham walked in. Sight of her face revealed that something was up. “ The thing is coming to a head now,” she an- nounced. “ That monster goes to-morrow to see the detective. ” “ Hal this is good news!” cried Gale. “ With this information we can prepare to give them a grand reception and surprise. The denouement will be worth all the worryand trouble.” “ And it will be a good thing to have it over,” the girl said, “ for there is no doubt but the life of her father is in danger. it has taken the constant Watching of both Mildred and myself to prevent her from carrying out her purpose—- we are sure of it, sir.” “ Protect him till to-morrow,” said Gerredson, “and the guilty one will be in the place where she put me, and her evil work will be at an end. “ How does her married life progress?" asked the Lawyer-Detective. The young lady laughed. “ Did you ever see that comic picture of she parrot and the monkey ?” she suggestiver in- quired. “That is enough,” answered Gale. “It is about as I expected. It is a case in which both sides have been neatly trapped, I take it. And it serves them both right.” “ The man has decidedly the best of it! though,”Julia declared;“or he would have i they could carry on their prett game. he knew the secret when he marri her, and at once used it aglainst her to extort money, which she has been andin part tnOught him ric , and he is scarcely worth a dollar. ” “ To supply the demands of Gower Terwilli- ger,il have no doubt,” observed the Lawyer De- tect ve. “ Yes, your guess is right; he is in the power ‘ of that man.” “ And I ha 11 to know the secret.” “They are sl in for it,"averred Gerredson. “ Not one of them shall esca , if we can help it, and we are going to do our evel best." The young woman had quite a story to tell, out freely. ‘ She, on her 5 31 i and a good deal of gossip to deal out, but finally I she took her leave, when the two men reviewed 1. the situation and laid their plans for the mor- - I‘OW. They were astir early, and sought out the lawyers, Rough and Brief, before the time for 1 their going to their office. Arrangements were i completed, the aides busy with their respective | parts, and all the persons interested were seen I and notified to assemble at a certain place at a l given hour. I The time of the intended visit of “ Theresa” to 3 the detective's ofihe was known, and the fact 5 that she was to go alone. ; The lawyers understood this part of the ar- l rangement, knowing the detective would have 1 no witness firesent in his dealings with the wo- 9 man. for t * power. i At a very early hour a visit was paid to his , office, and a gimlethole was bored through the I door so that the trap could be sprung at precise- l l at would be to place him in her ly the right time. A few minutes to nine the rascal] detective : came to his ofi‘ice, opening it for the usiness of . i the day. Not five minutes later a vailed woman came ; down the street and entered. ' As soon as she had been seen in the ( flice, men entered silently and ascended the stairs, and a. ; policeman in uniform stood with his eye fixed to the hole that had been made in the door. ; Fora man in citizen's dress to be seen doing I such a thing might have caused somebody to 1 question what it meant, and so the plans all i brought to naught; but, for an officer to be in > that manner engaged would at sight tell the j story in part and command respect. The wait was not a long one; the cfiicer soon i gave a signal and threw open the door. ‘3 He stepped in, with John Gale, Will Gerred- 1 son, and others, each armed with a revolver, | and Detective Henry was commanded to throw up his hands and surrender. That unworthy had a rung to his feet, a big sum of money clutched n his hand, and ” Ther- esa " Kassinger, her vail thrown back, stared at the invaders like one struck powerless, her face like death. Before there was a chance for either to recover, handcuffs were upon their wrists and they were helpless prisoners. ‘ What means this?” demanded the detective, with a fine show of dignity. Q‘;No need for you to ask that,” answered a e. " There is every need why I should ask it. I demandtoknow the meaning of this outrage, why I should be arrested in my own office!” “ Very well, we will tr and satisfy you, then,” spoke up Mr. Brief. “ all in all the witnesses } and others, Mr. Gerredson, and we’ll give them ‘ all they want of explanation.” The guilty woman could only sit and stare, her face the picture of agony and fear, her brow damp with perspiration. Gerredsnn stepped out for a moment, soon re- turnin with nearly or quite a score of others. As t ey filed in, it was explanation enough. Neither the detective nor the guilty woman could doubt that the truth was fully known. "Beatrice Peyterson,” spoke the Lawyer De— tective then, “ you are arrested for the murder of your uncle, Phili Kassinger, and for the murder of your sister, Theresa Kassinger. There is no room for denial.” She knew it' she hung her head sullenly. “And you, i-Ienry Henry,” he went on, “ are arrested on the charge of receivin a bribe from this woman to keep her secret, it having become known to on, and hence on have a share in her ilt. on thought to eceive me, but you see have overreached ycu, after all." Among the others who had come in were Gower Terwilliger and Theodore Peyterson, botlyirisoners, and Gale now turned to them. I “ eed I say upon what charges you are ar- ' arrested 1" he demanded. “ You, Theodore Pey- ‘ terson, If :r your share in suppressing the matter, 1 as also for the murder of one Antrim Barton, j some years ago: and you, Gower Terwilliger, for your holding of that secret for your gain, aswell as for the robbing of your orphaned niece and , ward.” , The rascals, all around, were helpless to say , anything in their defense, for well they knew the ; work of this Lawyer Detective had been only too I, thoroughly done. Among those present, besides the names which , have been mentioned, were Dr. Paul Kayslee, _ the Awstins, Mildred Daniels, Mrs. Carvingham and Julia, the trosecuting attorney who would ' have charge of the matter, and others. The thought of having Mr. Kassinger resent ‘ had been considered, but it had been ecided that the shock would be too great fcr him. it were better it was thought, that the awful ; gglth should be broken to him as lightly u PO" ‘ e. The arrests having been made, the Lawyer Detective proceeded to an wpoaé of the crime. “ Here we have,” he said “ the explanation of , what has been a most wonderful mystery. Here l were twin sisters, looking so nearly alike that it i was in: his to tell one from the other, al- ‘ most. neof thuewasan angel in character 5,-5.4, . . 32 " The" Bound-About-Town Sport.“ and d sition, comparatively ; the other a devil. eatrice was the latter. Theresa was rich, having been left a big fortune by one of her godmothers,‘ and would come into still greater fortune upon the death of her Uncle Phtillip, who had willed the bulk of his property to er. “ Leonard Kassiiiger had become reduced in circumstances, and Beatrice had little save what was given her by her sister, and Theresa was far more generous than Would have been expected. She, practically, kept up the establishment, and Beatrice lacked for nothing which she herself had. Beatrice had money from her at; any time, and in almost any amount, merely for the ask- ing. This, however, did not satisfy her. She was jealous, and all her evil nature rose to the concocting of a scheme whereby she could dis- ess her sister and come into all the wealth erself. “The first step was to remove the uncle, so that his fortune would be assured, and that was done. Poison was procured and secretly ad- ministered, and his death was so sudden that it was attributed to heart failure, be having suf- fered from heart trouble for years. Then came the task of removing the sister, and in such a ! way that no suspicion could attach to herself. And in this there were more motives than one to be considered. First, the great fortune at stake. Then, Theresa was engaged to marry this rascal Peyterson, who was considered very rich. To take her sister’s place fully, and wed this man, Beatrice must dispose of her own lover. Why not throw the suspicion of the murder on him? “ So it was done. The secret procuring of the dagger from his room, the quarrel which she forced upon him that night, the blood which she daubed on the sleeve of his coat as it hung in the hall—all these matters were the outcome of long and careful planning on her part. nothing undone. Theresa had kept a private diary, which Beatrice had discovered and] studied, and this made it the more easy for her to play the mile she was undertaking. Whe'n Gerredson left her in anger that fatal night, she somehow got Theresa into the library, and there took her life. The wonderful nerve of the woman has been shown. It is plain to you now, as she-sits here before you, the mask torn away at last. Who could so well imitate the hand- writin of the dead Beatrice as she? Her great- est tas was to deceive her father, but even in that she succeeded, proving well her native cun- ning—her devilish art! And see, too, how well she used this sharp sport, Awstin, as a tool to further her designs.” CHAPTER XXXVIll. TRAGIC wmn UP. THE eat-pose there in the office of the rascally detective was all that could be desired. . It was more fully made, indeed, than we have indicated, but to detail all was not neces- sary, since the reader has followed the progress ste by step and is in possession of all the nts. p0The proof of the guilt of the prisoner was con- clusive. Every point had been covered. In buying the poison, the thougitrhad come to her to use the name of Mrs. vingham, know- ing of her and taking the first name that sug- gested itself when required to give her name and address. The Law or Detective had left nothin want- ing. All h s witnesses were there, in 0 or that each one mi ht share in the denousment he had lanned and the evidence lacked not a single link. There was the druggist to testify con- cerninxgnthe buying of the poison; there was the analy g chemist, to support Gale in further proof- there was the traitor-jailer to swear it was this woman who had bribed him; and here they had the forged written confession, sup- porting the wholel—evidence enough, surely. Gale had not quite done, when the woman raised her eyes from the floor, where she had been holding them, and said: “You need not go further, sir; I admit it in the main. You are wron in one point, how- ever: I am the dear, ange ic Theresa, after all! I defy you to rovo to the contrar if you can." “Vain liel' returned Gale, in is cool, quiet way. “ That is the point I was just comingl at, having laid bare everything else. If on. ave a scar on your ri ht arm, on the un er side, a ion , thread-like ine, then you are Beatrice; an you have, for we have taken up the body of our’mnrdered sister, and no such mark is upon ori' This was then explained and the proof stated, whrn the prisoner was ordered to stand up in order that or arm might be bared. She stood u , saying as she did so: “I do not eny it ongerl Release my hand, and I will show my arm. You have overcome me, and I give up.” Her hands were freed, and no sooner done than she clapped something into her mouth and swallowed it. ‘ “ Ha, ha, ha!” she defiantly laughed, “ I have been prepared for it, from the flrstl Examine my arm if you want to; in a few minutes I shall be dead at your feet.” It was what had been looked for-that is. that She left ‘ had been thought she would have to produce the poison from her pocket, or garments, and so lcould be prevented in any attempt to thwart the aw. She sunk back upon her chair as she finished speaking, when, almost at once, a change came over her face. It was death; no one could doubt i if; the doctor present said it was, and that no- : thing on earth could avert it, for it was prussic acid she had swallowed! And. as they looked upon her, one and all silently agreed that it was better so. i I she would attempt something of the kind; but it i Leonard Kassinger bore the shock better than | could have been expected. , I-le mourned for Theresa, his beloved daugh- l ter. but for the immeasurably wicked Beatrice ; he had neither tear nor regret. l She had been cwl from birth, he declared. 4 Evil and good had not been commingled in the ' natures of the twins; one had possessed all the good, the other all the bad, a parently. The rascals of the frightquscheme were pun- ished, every one, getting their full deserts for their crimes. The Lawyer Detective, so-called, received highest credit for what he had done, and it was the acknowledged fact that, but for him, William Gerredson would have suffered death. Mildred Daniels had her fortune restored, the , little that Terwilliger had left of it, but she in- ; herited the Kassinger wealth besides. As Ger— redson came to know her better, he loved her, i and in due time they were made one. The same fate overtook John Gale and Julia Ca vingham. At last the love affairs of these . gir 3 had been directed in the right channels. , Tris END. l Beadle’s Billie Library. i nunnsno mu. NOVELS. By Colonel Prentiss [ligralinnn 950 Buffalo Bill at Bay. 943 Buffalo Bill’s Block (lame. 936 Buffalo Bill s Black Purd. ’ 927 Buffalo Bill's Bluff; or, Du kv Dick the Snort. 921 Buffalo Bill‘s uandui'y: or. Velvet Bill's Vow. 915 Buffalo Bill an the SurgeonScout. 909 Buffalo Bill’s League; or. Red Butterfly. 904 Buffalo Bill‘s Tangled ’l rail. 900 Buffalo Bill‘s Bough Riders. Buffalo Bill‘s Secret Ally. 899 Buffalo Bill’s Life-Stake. I 88:2 The Three Bills: Buffalo l ill Wild Bill and Bands 1 box Bill: or. The Bravo in Broadcloth i 874 Buffalo ill’s Buckskin Braves. ; 869 Buffalo Bill‘s Road-Agent Round-up. I 863 Buffalo Bill's Dea‘h Charm. ‘ 857 Buffalo Bill’s Royal Flush. 851 Buffan Bill‘s Double Dilemma. , 845 Buffalo Bill‘s Redskin Ruse. 830 Buffalo Bill‘s Boxsin Blue. 8‘36 Buffalo Bill‘s Sha Shooters. 822 Buffalo Bill‘s Best ower. 816 Buffalo Bi l‘s Red Trail. 812 Buffalo Bill's Death-Knell. 794 Buffalo Bill's Winning Band. 787 Buffalo Bill’s Dead Shot. 781 Buffalo Bill's Brand. 777 Buffalo Bill’s Spy Shadower. 769 Buffalo Bill‘s Sweepstake. 765 8 halo Bill‘s lkzen: or, Silk Ribbon Sam. 761 Buffalo Bill‘s Mascot. , 757 Buffalo Bill‘s Double. 750 Buffalo Bill‘s Bid Four;or. (‘uster‘s Shadow. 748 Buffalo Bill‘s Flush Hand. 739 Buffalo Bill‘s Mind: or, The Masked Driver. 735 Buffalo Bill lllfl H s Merry Men. . Buffalo Bill‘s Bear: es: or, Silk Lasso Sum. 727 Buffalo Bill‘s 1:0th Guard. 722 Buffalo Bill on the \\'rr~patli 716 Buffalo Bill's Scout Shadowcrs. 710 Buffalo Bill Baffird: or. The. lieserterDesperado. 69" Buffalo Bill‘s Buckskin Brotherhood. 691 Hiiffalo Bill’s l liiid Trail; or. Mustang Madge. ' Buffalo Bill‘s Snoop; or. The King of the Mines. 658 The Cowb xv Clan; or, The 'l igress of Texas. 653 Lasso King‘s League; or. Brick Taylor in Texas. 649 Buffalo Bill‘s Chief of Cowboys; or. Buck Taylor tiff Buffalo Bill‘s Bonanza; or. Si ver ('ircle Knights. 362 Buffalo Bill‘s Grip: 0r. Oath Bound’to Custer. 329 Buffalo Bill’s Pier go: or. The League of Three. 189 H ild Bill‘s Gold Trail; or, The Desperate Dozen. 175 Wild Bill’s Trump Card: or. The Indian Heiress- 168 Wild Bill. the Pistol Dead Shot. lly II u "is lo Bill. 839 The Ranch King Dead-Shot. 820 White Beaver ’s Still Hunt. 807 Wild Bill, the Wild West Duelist. 800 Wild Bill. the Dead (‘enter Shot. 639 Buffalo Bill‘s (fold King. 599 The. Dead Shot blue: or, My Pards of the Plains. .' 414 Red Renard. the indiuii Detective. l 461 One-Armed l‘urd; or. Borderland Retribution. 397 The Wizard Brothers: or, White Beaver’s Trail. 1 391 White Beaver, the Exile of the, Platte. . 319 Wild Bill, the Whirlwind of the West. 1 304 Texas Jack. the. Prairie Rattler. 243 The Pilgrim Sharp: or. The Soldier‘s Sweetheart. 83 Gold Bullet Snort; or, Knights of the Overland. {52 Death-Trailer. the Chief of Scouts. Q 5 U! U»: .— E; 1 fly Leon Lewis, Ned lluntllne, etc. 773 Buffalo B We Bun; or. Cody to thc Rr‘sclle. : 682 Buffalo Bill’s Secret Service Trail. _ 629 Buffalo Bill‘s Daring Role; or, Daredeath Dick. - 517 Buffalo Bill‘s First Trail; or. The Express Rider. i 15% Buffalo Bill, (‘hief 1 f Scouts. . _ l 117 Buffalo Bill 5 Strange Ford; or, Dashing Dandy. 92 Buffalo Bill. the Buckskin King. A LIIEIIT “H AIKEN'S NOVELS. Dick Talbot Series. 741 Dick Talliot‘s Close Cull. ’" “ Dick Talbot in Apache 1 and. Dick Talbot. the Ranch King. 729 Dick Talbot.‘s Clean~0ut. . 7' 3 Dick Talbot in No Man’s Crimp. i 1 Dick Talbot: oi. The. Brand of Crimson Cross e; flick Talbot; or, The DeutlrShot of Shasta. a}- 95:» 5.x v ;.'.I.,ii Aikcn’s Fresh 01' Frisco Series. H's?) Fresh. the Race-Track Sport. 666 The Fresh in Montana: or, Blake‘s Full Hand. 65:? 'l‘: c ll‘resh‘s Rustic flit Painted City. 617 The Fresh at Santa Fe: (r. ’i'lil- Strange: Sharp. 556 l‘Tt‘Sll, the. Sport: or. The Bi;r Racket at Slide Out. 537 Fresh Against the Field: or. Blake. the Lion. 497 The Fresh in Texas; or. The Bscobwio Millions. 461 The. Fresh of Frisco on the Rio Grande. ” The. Fresh in Big Walnut (.‘amp; or Bronze Jack Aikcn’s Joe l’liciiix Series. The Bloctor‘fram ir- gas; or, Joe Plieiiix‘s ( ‘lue. . . or term s lg ll mver. B65 Tllle l’tEi‘nnlc Barber llt‘t(‘CllV ; or, Joe Plienix in Si vcr ity. I'tlfl .](l(' l’lieuix’s Great. Blue llinmf lid (‘ascz or, Thu» Neu York Sport at Long Branch. 793 Joe l’liciiix’s Decoyl‘I: or,' 1110 Ma“ ,,f '1 rm,“ 760 .lf ‘l’ll lnix’s Lone (UK. 749 Jill! l’llf‘lllX'S Big Bulge, 715 J We l’lieiiix's )lnd (Misc. 768 Joe I’hcnix‘s Siren; or. The Women lirwlzsl aw 700 Joe Phenix’s Unknown; or. Crushing the (‘rooks 681 Joe Pheuix's Specials; or. The Actress llcte-ctive u r-s ’ i l ‘ ' p ' ‘ a v v V 33-; 33?. iwiiiiiislé“illi‘éirk‘éliifli. 628 Joe l‘heiiix’s (‘oinhin ;\ r,tlie Dandy (‘onsp'rator 6'. Joe i‘licnix’s Silent Six. 601 Joe l‘lieiiix‘s bll:l(l0\\‘20r.ll'(‘ Detective's Monitor 419 Joe i’henix., the King of Detectiw s. 161 Joe Phenix‘s (irezit Man limit. 112 Joe Phenix, Private Detective. or, The League. 79 Joe Phenix, the Police Spy. i ,! Aiken‘s Misc clinneous Novels. 940 Captain Jack, the Scalper 935 The hawks and \\ olves of New York 93:! Dctt‘ctivc Gordon's Grip. 926 Old Sunflower. the Silent Smiter. 92% Old SunlloWer. the Hayseed Detective. 901 The Hotel Swell-Slznrp; t r, The Siren Sliadower. 892 The Countrymau Detective 876 Gold Button Sport; or, The Miner Sharps. 812 Tetou Tom the Half-r]. od. 835 The King-Pin Detective. 814 The New Yorker Au one Texas Sports. 775 King Dandy. the Silver Sport. 75‘! Gideon’s Gri at l‘ahylon 1 ar. 717 Captain Pat IllicGowen, tl e (lreeucout Detective. 674 Uncle Sun Up, the Born Detective. 670 The Li btw eight Defective. ' _ 666 The Fr sco DefectiVe; or, The Golden Gate Find. ‘ 613 Keen Billy, the Sport. 607 Old Benzine, the “Hard CaSe ” Detective. 591 Fire Face, the Silver King's Foe. 58.5 The Silver Sh arp Detective. 577 Tom, of Calif( mm: or, DetectiVe’s Shadow Act. 576 The Actress Detective: or, The invisible Hand 562 Lone Hand. the Shadow. 520 The. Lone Hand on the Caddo. 490 The Lone Band in Texas. 75 Chin Chin, the Chinese Detective. 465 The Actor Detective. 440 The High Her e of the Pacific. 4% The Lone Hand; or, The Red River Recreants. ((8 Doc Grin, the Vendetta of Death. 381 The Gy sy Gen tleman: r r. Nick Fox. Defective 376 Black Beards: 0i. ’lhe Rio (v‘raizde High Horse 370 The Dusky Detective: or. Pursued to the End. 363 Crowningshield. ili'- Detective 320 The Genteel Spo ttcr: or The N. Y Night Hawk. 252 The Wall Street I loud; (1‘. The Telegrth Girl, 293 The Double Detective: l r.The Midnight Mystery. 196 La Marmoset. the Lerrcilve Queen. 101 The Man from New York. 91 The Winning Car: or. The Innkeeper’s Daughter. 84 Hunted Down: or. The League of Three. 81 The Human Tiger: or. A Heart of Fire. ‘ 75 Gentleman George: or. Parlor. Prison and Street. 7:! The Phantom Band: or. The 5th Avenue deiress. 56 The Indian Mazenpa: or, Madman of the Plains. 49 The Wolf Demon: or. The Kaiiawha ueen. 42 The. California Detective: or, The Wife es of 31 The New York Sharp: or, The Flash of Lightning. 27 The Spotter Detective: or. Girls of New York. BY J \V. OSBON. 922 Gilbert Golds ur, the Dandy Sport. 905 Shasta 8am, he Sparkler. 877 Cool Creede, the Dead-Shot. 759 The S rt from St. Louis. 518 Boys Richard, the Thoroughbred. NEW ISSUES. 957 The King-Pin Sport. By Jos E. Badger. Jr- 958 The Round-About-Town Sport. BY J- C COW- drick. 959 J0e Plienix‘s Double Deal. BY Albert W- Aiken. 960 Buffalo Bill’s Blue Belt Brigade. By Col. P. In ,1 graham. JUST ISSUED. 953 Dashing Charlie‘s Minute. Men, By Col. Ingraham 954 Joe Plienix in Chicago. By Albert w_ Aiken. 955 The Secret Service Special of New York By Ed. Gaines Burnes. 936 Buffalo Bill‘s Volunteer Vigilantcs. By Ingrabam A new issue every Vi’ednecday. Beadle’n Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers. ten cents per copy. or sent by mail on receipt of twelve cents each. BEADLE & .ADAMS, Publishers, 92 William street, New York.