Crawfordsville Weekly Journal, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 28 December 1900 — Page 15

THE MYSTERY OF AGATHA WEBB.

By Anna Katharine Green, Author of "The Leavenworth Case," "Lost Man's Ixine"Hand aiui Ring," Etc., Etc.

COPYRIGHT,

1900,

BY ANNA KATHA11LNE GHBffN.

Let us follow the party now winding up the hillside. In a deeply wooded spot on a side road stood a little house to which John and James Zabel had removed when their business on the docks had terminated. There was 110 other dwelling of greater or lesser pretension on that road, which may account for the fact that none of the persons now approaching it had been in that neighborhood for years, though it was by no means a 'long walk from the village in which they all led such busy lives.

The heavy shadows cast by the woods through which the road meandered were not without their effect upon the spirits of the three men passing through them, so that long before they reached the opening in which the Zabel cottage stood silence had fallen upon the whole party. Dr. Talbot especially looked as if he little relished this late .isit to his old friends and not till they caught a glimpse of the long, sloping roof and heavy chimney of the Zabel cottage did not shake off the gloom incident to the* nature of his errand. "Gentlemen," said he, coming to a sudden halt, "let us understand each other. We are about to make a call on two of our oldest and most respectable townsfolk. If in the course of that call 1 choose to make mention of the $20 bill left with Loton, well and good, but if not you are to take my reticence as proof of my own belief that they had nothing to do with it."

Two of the party bowed. Knapp only made 110 sign. "There is no light in the window," observed Abel. "What if we find them gone to bed?" "We will wake them," said the constable. "I cannot go back without being myself assured that no more money like that given to Loton remains in this house." "Very well," remarked Knapp, and going up to the door before him he Btruck a resounding knock that was startling in that place of silence.

But loud as the summons was it brought no answer. Not only the moonlighted door, but the little windows on each side of it remained shut, and there was no evidence that the knock bad been beard. "Zabel! John Zabel!" shouted the constable, stepping around the side of the house. "Get up, my good friends, and let an old crony in. James! John! Late as it is we have business with you. Open the door. Don't stop to dress."

But this appeal received no_ more recognition than the first, and after rapping on the window against which he had flung the words he came back and looked up and down the front of the house.

It had a solitary aspect and was much less comfortable looking than he bad expected. indeed, there were_ signs of poverty or at least of neglect about the place lliat astonished him. Not only had the weeds been allowed to grow over the doorstep, but from the unpainted front itself bits of board had rotted away, leaving great gaps about the window ledges and at the bas,e of the sunken and well nigh toppling chimney. The moon flooding the roof showed up all these imperfections with pitiless insistence, and the torn edges of the green paper shades that half concealed the rooms within •were plainly to be seen as well as the dismantled knocker which hung by one nail to the old cracked door. The vision of Ivnapp, with his ear laid against this door, added to the forlorn and sinister aspect of the scene and gave to the constable, who remembered .the brothers in their palmy days, when they were the life and pride of the town, a by no means agreeable sensation as he advanced toward the detective and asked him what they should do now. "Break down the door," was the uncompromising reply. "Or wait! The windows of country houses are seldom fastened. Let me see if 1 cannot enter by some one of them." "Better not," said the coroner, with considerable feeling. "Let us exhaust all other means first." And he took hold of the knob of the door to shake It, when tJ his surprise it turned, and the door opened. It had not been locked.

Rather taken aback by this, he hesitated. But Knapp showed no such scruples. Without waiting for any man's permission ho glided in and stepped cautiously, but without any delay, luto a room the door of which stood wide open before him. The constable was about to follow when he saw Knapp come stumbling back with a face whiter than his own. "Devilish work," he muttered and drew the others in to see.

Never will any of them forget that sight. They had not as yet recovered any more than the mass of their townsfolk from the shock of seeing Agatha Webb lying in her blood on the old horsehair sofa. But this—this was so unexpected and so deplorable that, hardy men though they were, they succumbed without being able to resist the overpowering impression made upon them.

On the floor near the entrance lay one brother in a streak of moonlight which showed every feature of his worn and lifeless face, and at a table drawn up in the center of the room sat the other, rigid in death, with a book clutched in his hand.

Both bad been dead some time, and i^.r

on the faces and in the aspect of eltner was visible a misery that added its own gloom to the pitiable and grewsome scene and made the shining of the great white moon, which filled every corner of the bare room, seem a mockery well nigh unendurable to those who contemplated it. John dead in his chair! James dead on the floor! What could be sadder and what more piteous?

Knapp, who of them all would naturally feci this least, was of course the person to speak first. "Both wear long beards," said tie, "but tliis one on the floor was doubtless Loton's customer. Ah!" he cried, pointing at the table, as lie carefully crossed the floor. "Here is the bread, and"— Even he had his moments of feeling. The appearance of that loaf had stunned him one corner of it had been gnawed off. "A light! T.et 11s have a light!" cried Mr. IYiitou, speaking for the first time since his entrance. "These moonbeams are horrible. See how they cling to the bodies as if they delighted in lighting up these wasted and shrunken forms." "Could it have been hunger?" began Abel, tremblingly following Knapp's every movement as he struck a match and lit a lantern which he had brought in his pocket. "God help us all if it was," said Fenton in a secret remorse no one but Dr. Talbot understood. "But who could have believed it of men who were once prosperous. Are you sure that one of them has gnawed this bread? Could it not have been"— "These are the marks of human teeth." observed Knapp, who was examining the loaf carefully. "I declare, it makes me very uncomfortable, notwithstanding it's in the line of regular experiences." And he laid the bread down hurriedly.

Meantime Mr. Fenton, who had been bending over another portion of the table, turned and walked away to the window. "I am glad they are dead." he muttered. "They have at least shared the fate of their victims. Take a look under that old handkerchief lying beside the newspaper, Knapp."

The detective did so. A three edged dagger, with a curiousiy wrought handle, met his eye. It had blood dried on its point and was, as no one could doubt, the weapon with which Agatha Webb had been killed.

CHAPTER XV.

TWO CORPSES. V\'

"Gentlemen, we have reached the conclusion of this business sooner than I expected," announced Knapp. "If you will give me just ten minutes, 1 will endeavor to find that large remainder of money which we have every reason to think is hidden away in this house." "Stop a minute," said the coroner. "Let me see what book John is holding so tightly. Why," he exclaimed, drawing it out and giving it one glance, "it is a Hible!"

Laying it reverently down, he met the detective's astonished glance and seriously remarked: "There is some incongruity between the presence of this book and the deed we believed to have been performed down yonder." "Not at all," quoth the detective. "It was not the man in the chair, but uic one on tne floor who made use of that dagger. But I wish you had left it to me to remove that book, sir." "l'ou? And why? What difference would it have made?" "I.would have noticed between what pages his finger was inserted. Nothing like knowing the details, sir."

Dr. Fenton gazed wistfully at the book. He would like to have known himself on what especial passage his friend's eyes had last rested. "I will stand aside," said he, "and hear your report when you are done."

The detective had already begun his investigations. "Here is a spot of blood," said he. "See, on the right trousers leg of the one you call James. This connects him indisputably with the crime in

"Stop a minute," said the coroncr. "It is a Bible!" which this dagger was used. No signs of violence on his body. She was the only one to receive a blow. The rest was the result of God's providence." "Or man's neglect," muttered the constable. "There is no money in any of their pockets, or on either wasted figure," the detective continued, after a

feAV

minutes of silent search. "It must be hidden in the room, or— Look through "that Bible, sirs."

The coroner, glad of an opportunity to do something, took up the book, and ran hurriedly through its leaves, then turned it and shook it over the table. Nothing fell out the bills must be looked for elsewhere. "The furniture Is scanty," Abel observed, with an inquiring glance about him. "Very, very scanty," assented the constable, still with that biting remorse at his heart. "There is nothing In this cupboard," remarked the detective, swinging open a door in the wall, "but a set of old china more or less nicked."

Abel started. An old recollection had come up: some months ago he had been present when James had tried to sell this set. They were all in Warner's store, and James Zabel—he could see his easy attitude yet and hear the offhand tones with which he tried to •carry the thin.: oil'—'had said, quite as if he had never thought of it before, "By the by, 1 have a set of china that came over in the Mayflower. John likes it, but it's grown to be an eyesore to me, and if any of you hear of any one wanting such a thing send him up to the collage. I will let the old tiling go for a song." Xoliodv answered, and

James had soon disappeared. It was! the last time. Abel remembered, that he had been seen about town. "1 can't stand if," cried the lad. "1 I can't stand it. If they died of hunger 1 must know it. 1 am going to take a look at their larder." And before any one could stop him he dashed to the rear of the house.

THE CRAWFORDSVILLE WEEKLY JOURNAL.

The constable would have liked to have followed him, but ho looked about the walls of the room instead. John and James had been fond of pictures and had once indulged their fanry to the verge of extravagance, but there were no pictures 011 the walls now, nor was there so much as a candlestick 011 the empty and dust covered mantel. Only 011 a bracket in one corner there was a worthless trinket made out of cloves and beads which had doubtless been given them by some country damsel in their young bachelor days. But nothing of any value anywhere, and Mr. Fenton felt that he now knew why they had made so many visits to Boston at one time and why they always returned with a thinner valise than they took away. He was still dwelling on the thought of the depth of misery to which highly respected folk can sink without the knowledge of the nearest neighbors, when Abel cauie back looking greatly troubled. "It's the saddest thing I ever heard of," said he. "These men must have been driven wild by misery. This room is sumptuous in comparison to the ones at the back and as for the pantry, there is not even a scrap there a mouse could eat. I struck a match and glanced into the flour barrel. It looked as if it had been licked. I declare it makes a fellow sick."

The constable with a shudder withdrew toward the door. "The atmosphere here is stifling," said he. "I must have a breath of outdoor air."

But he was not destined to any such Immediate relief. As he moved down the hall the form of a man darkened the doorway and he heard an anxious voice exclaim: "All, Mr. Fenton, is that you? 1 have been looking for you everywhere."

It was Sweetwater, the young man who had previously shown so much anxiety to be of'service to the coroner.

Mr. Fenton looked displeased. "And how come you to find me here?" he asked. "Oh. some men saw you take this road, and 1 guessed the rest." "Oh, ah. very good. And what do you want, Sweetwater?"

The young man, who was glowing with pride and all alive with an enthusiasm which he bad kept suppressed for hours, slipped up to the eonstable and whispered in his ear: "1 have made a discovery, sir. I know you will excuse the presumption, but 1 couldn't bring myself to keep quiet and follow in that other fellow's wake. I had to make investigations on my own account, and—and"—stammering in his eagerness—"they have been successful, sir. I have found out who was the murderer of Agatha Webb."

The coustable, compassionating the disappointment in store for him, shook his head with a solemn look toward the room from which he had just emerged. "You are late, Sweetwater," said he. "We have found him out ourselves, and he lies inside there, dead."

It was dark in this narrow passageway and Sweetwater's back was to the moonlight, so that the blank look that must have crossed his face at this announcement was lost upon the constable. But his consternation was evident from the way he thrust out either hand to steady himself against the walls, and Mr. Fenton was not at all surprised to hear him stammer out: "Dead! He! Who do you mean by he, Mr. Fenton?" "The man in whose house we now are," returned the other. "Is there any one else who can be suspected of this crime?"

Sweetwater gave a gulp that seemed to restore him to himself. "There are two men living here, both very good men, I thought. Which of them do you mean, and why do you think that either John or James Zabel could have killed Agatha Webb?"

For reply, Mr. Fenton drew him toward the room in which such a great heart tragedy had taken place. "Look," said he, "and see what can happen in a Christian land, in the midst of Christian people living not 50 rods away. These men are dead, Sweetwater, dead from hunger. The loaf of bread you see there came too late. It was bought with a $20 bill, taken from Agatha Webb's cupboard drawer."

Sweetwater, to whom the whole scene seemed like some horrible nightmare, stared at the figure of James lying 011 the floor, and then at the figure of John seated at the table, as if his mind had failed to take in the constable's words. "Dead!" he murmured. "Dead! John and James Zabel. What will happen next? Is the town under a curse?" And lie fell on his knees before the prostrate form of James, only to start up again as he saw the eyes of Knapp resting on liitn. "Ah," he muttered, "the detective!" And after giving the man from Boston a close look he turned toward Mr. Fenton. "You said something about this good old man having killed Agatha Webb.

1 was too dazed to take 1

What was it'.' it in." Mr. Fenton. not understanding the young man's eagerness, but willing enough to enlighten him as to the situation, told him what reasons there were for ascribing the crime in the Webb cottage to the mad deed of these starving men. Sweetwater listened with open eyes and confused bearing, only controlling himself when his eyes by chance fell upon the quiet figure of the detective, now moving softly to and fro through the room. "But why murder when he could have had his loaf for the asking?" remonstrated Sweetwater. "Agatha Webb would have gone without a meal any time to teed a wandering tramp. How much more to supply the necessities of two of her oldest and dearest friends.'' "Yes," remarked Fenton, "but you forget or perhaps never knew that the master passion of these men was pride. James Zabel ask for bread! 1 can much sootier imagine him stealing it, yes, or striking a blow for it, so that the blow forever shut the eyes that saw him do it." "Y011 don't believe your own words,

Mr. Fenton. How can you?" Sweetwater's hand was 011 the breast of the accused man as he spoke and his manner was almost solemn. "You must not take it for granted." he went on, his green eyes twinkling with a curious light, "that all wisdom conies from Boston. We in Sutherlandtown have some sparks of it if they have not yet been recognized. You are satisfied"— here he addressed himself to Knapp— "that the blow which killed Agatha Webb was struck by this respectable old man?"

Knapp smiled, as if a child had asked him this question but he answered him good humoredly enough. "You see the dagger lying here with which the deed was done, and you see the bread that was bought from Loton with a $20 bill of Agatha Webb's money. In these you can road my answer." "Good evidence," acknowledged Sweetwater "very good evidence when we remember Mr. Crane's story of the old man he met rushing from the gateway with something glittering in his hand. I never was so beat in my life, and yet—and yet—if 1 could have a few minutes of quiet thought all by myself 1 am certain I could show you that there is more in this matter than you think. Indeed, I know that there is, but 1 do not like to give my reasons till 1 have conquered the difficulties presented by these men having had that S20 bill." W "What fellow is this?" suddenly broke in Knapp. "A fiddler, a nobody," quietly whispered Mr. Fenton in his ear.

Sweetwater heard him and changed in a twinkling from the uncertain, half battled, wholly humble person they had just seen to a man with a purpose strong enough to make him hold his head with the best. "I am a musician," he admitted, "and I play on the violin for money whenever the occasion offers, something which you will yet congratulate yourself upon if you wish to reach the root of this mysterious and dastardly crime. But that I am nobody, 1 deny, and mean that this fellow shall agree with me before this very night is over. Only give me an opportunity for considering this subject and the permission to walk for a few minutes about this house." "That is my prerogative," protested the detective firmly, but without any display of feeling. "I am the man employed to pick up whatever clews the place may present." "Have you picked up all that are to be found in this room?" asked Sweetwater calmly.

Knapp shrugged his shoulders. He was very well satisfied with himself. "Then give me a chance," prayed Sweetwater. "Mr. Fenton," he urged earnestly, "I am not the fool you take me for. I feel, I know, I have genius for this kind of thing, and though I do play the fiddle, I swear there are depths to this affair which none of you have as yet sounded. Sirs, where are the $9S0 in bills which go to make up the clean thousand that was taken from the small drawer at the back of Agatha Webb's cupboard?" "They are In some secret hiding place, no doubt, which we will presently come upon as we go through the house," answered Knapp. "Umph! Then I advise you to put your hand on them as soon as possible," reported Sweetwater. "I will confine myself to going over the ground you have already investigated." And with a sudden Ignoring of the others' presence, which could only have sprung from an intense egotism or from an overwhelming belief in bis own theory he began an investigation of the room that threw the others' more commonplace efforts entirely In the shade.

Knapp. with a slight compression of his lips, which was the sole expression of anger he ever allowed himself, took up his hat and made his bow to Mr. Fenton. "I see," said he. "that the sympathy of those present is with the local talent. Let local talent work, then, sir, and when you want me send to the tavern on the docks, where I will be found till I am uotified that my services are no longer required." "No, no!" protested Mr. Fenton. "This boy's enthusiasm will soon evaporate. Let him fuss away if he. will. His petty business need not interrupt us." "But he understands himself," whispered Knapp. "I should think he had been on our own force for years." "All the more reason to see what he's up to. Wait, if only to satisfy your own curiosity. I shan't let many minutes go by before I pull him up."

Knapp, who was really of a cold and unimpressionable temperament, refrained from further argument, and confined himself to watching the young

man. whose movements seemed to fas-1 cinnte him. ".Astonishing!" Mr. Fenton heardhim mutter to himself. "He's more

like an eel than a man." And indeed

the way Sweetwater wound himself out and In through that room, seeing everything and examining everything that ca ne under his eye, was a sight .Ml worth any professional's attention. Pausing before the dead man on the floor, he held the lantern close to the white, worn face. "Ha!" said lie, picking up something from the long "Here's a crumb of that same

sharp that the detective came near replying to it: but he bethought himself and said nothing. "That settles which of the twe gnawed the loaf," continued Sweetwater.

The next minute he was hovering over the still more pathetic figure erf John, sitting in the chair. "Sad! Sad!" lie murmured.

Suddenly he laid his linger 011 a small rent in the old man's faded vest. "You saw this, of course," said he, with a quick glance over his shoulder at the silent detective.

No answer as before. "It's a new slit," declared the officious youth, looking closer, "and—

"Ha! Here's a crumb of that same bread. Did you see that, Sir. Knapp?" yes—tnere uiuou on iue eugea. riere, take the lantern, Mi. Fenton, I must see how the skin looks underneath. Oh, gentlemen, no shirt! The poorest dockhand has a shirt! Brocaded vest and no shirt but he don't want my pity, not now. Ah, only a bruise over the heart. Sirs, what did you make out of this?"

As none of them had even seen it Knapp was not the only one to remain silent. "Shall I tell you what I make out of it?" said the lad, risiug hurriedly from the floor, which he had as hurriedly examined. "This old man has tried to take his life with the dagger already wet with the blood of Agatha Webb. But his arm was too feeble. The point only pierced the vest, wiping off a little blood in its passage. Then the weapon fell from his hand and struck the floor, as you will see by the fresh dent in the old board I am standing on. Have you anything to say against that?"

Again the detective opened his lips and might have spoken, but Sweetwater gave him 110 chance. "Whore Is the letter he was writing?" he demanded. "Have any of you seen any paper lying about here?" "lie was 'ftot writing," objected Knapp "he was reading—reading In that old Bible you see there."

Sweetwater caught up the book, looked it over and laid it down, with that same serious twinkle of his eye they had noted iu him before. "He was writing," lie insisted. "See, here is his pencil." And he showed them the battered end of a small lead pencil lying 011 the edge of his chair. "Writing at some time," admitted Knapp. "Writing just before the deed," insisted Sweetwater. "Look at the fingers of his right hand. They have not moved since the pencil fell out of them." "The letter, or whatever it was, shall be looked for," declared the constable. I

Sweetwater bowed, his eyes roving I restlessly into every nook and corner 1 of the room. "The brother, James, was flie stronger," lie remarked "yet there is 110 evidence that he made any attempt at suicide." "How do you know that it was suicide John attempted?" asked some one. "Why might not the dagger have fallen from James' hand in an effort to kill his brother?" "Because the dent in the floor would have been to the right of the chair Instead of to the left," he returned. "Besides, James' hand would not have failed so utterly, since he had strength to pick up the weapon afterward and lay it where you found it." "True, we found it lying on the table," observed Abel, scratching his head in forced admiration of his old schoolmate. "All easy, very easy," Sweetwater remarked, seeing the wonder in every eye. "Matters like those are for a child's reading, but what is difficult and what 1 find it hard to come by, is how the $20 bill got into the old man's hand. He found It here, but how"— "Found it here? How do you know that?" "Gentlemen, that is a point 1 will make clear to you later, when I have laid my hand on a certain clew I am anxiously seeking. You know this is new work for me, and 1 have to advance warily. Did any of you gentlemen, when you came into this room, detect the faintest odor of any kind of perfume?" "Perfume?" echoed Abel, with a glance about the musty apartment. "Itats, rather."

Sweetwater shook his head with a discouraged air, but suddenly brightened, and, stepping quickly across the

Tl,

beard. bread. Did you see that, Mr. Knapp?" backaeho but, not, very bad, mv princiThe question was so sudden and so

15

WHY IT SUCCEEDS,

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tl 1

Bccausc hs for 0ae Thl

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and Crawfordsville is Learn' ing This.

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Mrs. William Thompson, of lul west College .street, savs: "I had some

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trouble being from other disorders

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llnor. paused at one of the windows—It was that one in which the shade had been drawn down.

Peering at this shade he gave a grunt. ••You must excuse me for a minute.' said he. "1 have not found what 1 wanted in this room and now must look outside for it. Will some one bring the lantern "I will." volunteered Knapp, with grim good humor. Indeed, the situation was almost ludicrous to him. "Bring it round the house, theu, to the ground under this window," ordered Sweetwater without giving any sign that he noticed or even recognized the other's air of condescension. "And. gentlemen, please don't follow. It's footsteps I am after, and the fewer we make about the house ourselves the easier it will be for me to establish the clew 1 am after."

Mr. Fenton stared. What had got Into the fellow?

TO UK CONTINUED.

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To our oiil stand in the Daviess burn,

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