Democratic Sentinel, Volume 14, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 September 1890 — BERENICE ST. GIL [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

BERENICE ST. GIL

A Story of Love, Intrigue, and Crime.

BY DWIGHT BALDWIN.

CHAPTER HL CONCLUSIVE EVIDENCE.

T’S a clear easel* Mat Hyland, one of the shrewdest detec- . the Chicago (£3O force. closed his to- / b acco a sb ar P '/l/L V l click, and looked // I knowingly at his oomJ panion. rs '/i “What have you de- \ '/J 1 ?*tei mined?” / “Several things. ■Jr First and chiefest,

that thi« work, and bad work it is, was commenced from the inside. ” “Impossibie!” “Wait a moment, Mr. Sears. The crime was discovered shortly after 6 o’clock, and the police at once notified. I was just leaving the Twenty-second Street Station when the telephone came in from the patrol box, and was the first to reach the house.” “And you found ” “Everything in confusion. The old man was dead, and the safe rifled as you see now, the four servants in terror, and the daughter in a fainting condition under the care of a physician.” “But why do you suspect an inmate of the house? Speak, sir! That old man yonder has been a father to me, and I must be doing something to bring his murderers to justice." “Gently, my dear sir. That is exactly what I propose to help yon do. I found *ll the doors and windows secured, the •lectrio burglar alarms m perfect working order—not the slightest evidence, in fact, that an entrance had been forced." “But John Kedzie, the only man in the house, h's been in Uncle Paul’s service for twenty years. You surely don’t ” “Not a bit of it. But you are wrong. This house had another inmate last night.” “Who, in heaven’s name?” “You heard of the fire at the Exposition building?” “No. But—don’t bother with trifles. Who was here?” “Bead that.” The detective took a copv of one of the morning newspapers from his pocket and indicated a paragraph in a long article describing the fire of the preceding night. It consisted of a brief but graphic account of the awful peril of Berenice St. Cyr and her subsequent gallant rescue by an unknown young man, whose bravery was awarded unstinted praise. “He seems to have driven away in their carriage,” commented Sears, when he had completed the reading. “Yes. He is the murderer!” “You don’t mean it?" “I surelv do. I had read the account before news of the murder arrived, and at once acted upon that theory. The servant, John had shown him to his room on the floor above. I lost no time in getting there." “And you found ” “That the bird had flown. The room was without an occupant.” “Strange! What does John say?” “I’ve not had a chance to question him since?” “There he is now. This way, John.” “What is it, Mr. Almon?” asked the servant, as, with a look of mingled fear and horror, he approached the doorway from which, only an hour before, he had discovered the body of his murdered master. “What was this young man’s name?” queried Hyland, brusquely. “They called him Winters." “His first name?” “I didn’t hear that.” “Describe him!” “I’m not much in that line.” “Do the best you can.” “He is tall, straight, well made, has black hair, and no beard, except a mustache.” “Good enough. What else?” “Very bright eyes, and the look of a gentleman. “I know him!” cried Sears. “Indeed!" ejaculated the detective. “Yes. His name is (. ole Winters. He was employed for a time by a friend ■ of mine, Mr. Max Morris, who discharged him, something like a month ago, for stealing from his cash drawer.” “Good! He’s our man! No time must be lost! With his name and description, Xcan arrest him before noon.” “Wait!" urged Sears, laying his hand upon the officer’s arm. “For what? Time is valuable; seconds count in a game of this kind." “Did Mr. St. Cyr treat this Winters kindly?" ■ This question of the young man was addressed to John. “Kindly? I should say so. He just doted on him, while Miss Berenice " “Never mind her!” interrupted Sears, an angry flush sweeping his dark but rather handsome face. “What did Uncle Paul do?” “Treated him like a son, and gave him ” j “What?" ... r-’' 1 ' '' I

"The beautiful ring be always wore." "The one presented his dead son George? Impossible!" • “No. I’m sure of it. I saw it on his finger when he told me good-night in his room." “I oan’t understand it. Bnt what has he there?” The speaker pointed to the right hand of the dead man, which was fast clinched. In an instant the detective was bending over the prostrate foruj. “It may contain a clue— a lock of the murderer’s hair, a button from his coat, a fragment of cloth. Wait!" “Had we not better leave that for the coroner?" asked Sears, interrupting the officer, who was trying to force open the fingers which the rigidity of death had fast locked. “No matter." replied Hyland. “There are enough of us here to testify to what we find, and time is everything just now." A moment more and a triple exclamation went up from the trio of bended heads. In the half-open palm of poor Paul St. Cyr lay a curiously wrought ring, richly set with diamonds and rubies. “It’s the very ring!" cried Almon Sears, a touch of triumph in his hard tones. "I could swear to it any place!” “And I,” added the servant, sorrowfully. “What do you think of it?” asked the young man' of the detective, who was reading an inscription upon the ring. “That it will send Cole Winders to the gallows!" CHAPTER IV. EXCITING SITUATIONS. "You here’” With this question, Berenice St Cyr, tearful, agitated, heart-broken, struggled to a sitting posture upon the lounge where she had been reclining. “Where else should I be in the midst of this storm of trouble and woe?” returned Almon Sears, as he seated himself near by. “But father told you to come here no more.” “True, but the charges of ingratitude which he made against me werp entirely unfounded, as I am now prepared to prove. Besides, death has revoked the mandate.” The young man bowed his head, and to all outward appearances was deeply moved. “Well, I’m glad you came. Almon. How can I endure this and live?" “It is hard, Berenice, cruel, and words of consolation carry no relief. One small comfort remains, however.” “I can’t imagine what. For me all is dark, the very sun has ceased to shine. I care nothing for life itself, now.” “The murderer of your father is known!” “What? Where is he?” “Not yet in custody, but his arrest is certain. ” “Who is he?” “His name is Winters—Cole Winters.” “It is false!” The girl was on her feet now, her eyes flashing angrily through her tears. ” “The proof is conclusive—absolutely damning in its completeness." “Nothing could convince me of anything so horrible.” “You have great'faith in a stranger." “Ought not the saving of one’s life to excite faith? Do you call him a stranger, who won his way to my father’s heart?" “And yours?” sneered Sears. “Aye, end mine, if you will have it so. I thought a moment ago that I had nothing for which to live. I feel, differently now. The cause, the honor, of Cole Winters shall be as my own!” Overcome by the violence of her emotions, the girl sank trembling to the sofa. “When the police arrived,” the young man proceeded, seeing his opportunity, “he had left his room and the house. The detective in charge of the case has just learned that your father gave him a ring last night.” “As a memento of his deep regard—true.” “Then vou, too, admit it?” “Why should I not?” “It was found in Paul St. Cyr’s deathgrip ten minutes ago.” “Impossible!" The fair girl was trembling now, for she read truth in the other’s triumphant, gleam ng eyes. “In the struggle for his life he tore it from the hand of his assailant and retained it, providentially, that the great crime might not go unpunished.” Once more our heroine was upon her feet. Trembling and irresolute no longer, faith shone in her bright luminous eyes, and love inspired her with confidence. “Mr. Winters is innocent,” ahe sqid, calmly. “I believe, I know it! He is the victim of cruel circumstances, or, worse still, a horrid plot. What possible inducement could he have had?” “Inducement? The bonds to the value of $300,000 in the safe in the library were worth working for.” For an instant Berenice hesitated, her brows contracted somewhat, and a shrewd expression flitted across her face. 4 How could he have known that father had been so foolish as to place them there?” “Doubtless he learned it in the conversation last night.” “By the way, Almon, one question, please.” “Well?" “How came you to know this?" “I—you ” The young man pausedin his stammering reply, and, despite an evident effort at self-control, his face blanched. “You need not answer, sir. I know now myself. ” “How?” “While we were talking in the library last night I was twice startled by a reflection in the mirror over the fire place. I then ascribed it to the wind swaying the shrubbery without. I now know that it was your face. You were listening at the window!” . “Berenice! I protest ” “You are my father’d murder! Begone!” Almon Sears staggered as if struck a sudden, stinging blow. “Don't deny it!” the girl went on spiritedly. “It would but increase my loathing!" “I can show where I obtained my information, if .need be,” said he, something of his assurance returning. “Perhaps so, but I do not require it. Begone!” There was something quite dramatic in the pose and look of the orphan girl as she raised her finely formed arm and pointed toward the door. Without a word the scoundrel, vanquished by the ready wit of a girl in her teens, quitted the apartment. “Confusion!” he muttered, as he descended the stairs. “But still I’m in no danger. She has only a vague suspicion, still I must move quietly. ” In the drawing-room he found the detective, who was walking up and down evidently awaiting his arrival. “ Well?” queried Hyland, laconically. “She agrees as to the ring, and says that there were bonds of great value in the safe." * “I suspected that,” commented the officer. “And Winters?" “She knows nothing of him. He rescued her from a position of some embar-

rassment, and so ingratiated hhnsell with her father as to secure the gift of the ring and an invitation to spend the night here." “Good. You had better remain in charge, while I set in motion the police machinery which will soon start Mr. Winters on his journey toward the blackcap.” Then Hyland shook hands with his companion and hurried from the crimehaunted mansion. He lost no time in hailing a cab, and was soon at police headquarters in the massive City Hall. There he made his report, and an hour later a description of our hero, accompanied by an order to search for him and arrest him on sight, was in the hands of half the police officers of Chicago, while numerous detectives were specially detailed to work upon the case. As for Hyland, he ihad never before been so busy. He felt that the case in hand was to' win him a high place in his profession, and the hours fairly flew by. He had learned much of Cole Winters, his habits and life since his arrival in the city, but not the slightest clew as to his movements since his departure from the St. Cyr mansion, some time during the preceding night. As the light of the autumnal day was beginning to fail, he turned into one of the most disreputable portions of South Clark street. While thinking intently of the important case and his lack of success, he came suddenly face to fa<» with a man. “I arrest you, Cole "Winters!” cried he. seizing the latter by the arm with one hand, and drawing a revolver with the other. It was indeed our hero, but so changed that to have Recognized him reflected great credit on the officer’s sagacity. His clothing was disordered and soiled, his hair uncombed, his walk unsteady, while a curious glittering look was in his eyes. “Drunk, are you?” queried the detective, as he returned the weapon to his pocket and produced a pair of handcuffs. “No. I’m not drunk! Who are you?” “An officer of the law. You are my prisoner!” “What have I done?” “Only a trifle. Last night you robbed a safe in Calumet avenue, after murdering its owner, Paul St. Cyr!” “Merciful heaven!" “That’s an old dodge; it never amounted to much, ancl was outlawed long ago.” “But I protest ” “It won’t avail. Hold up your hand!” Hyland released his grip on his prisoner to adjust the circles of polished steel. Cole Winters- saw his opportunity and took it. With abound he left the officer’s side and before the latter could understand what had happened, had disappeared from view down a dark and narrow alley. Soon he heard sounds of pursuit, and a moment later a bullet whistled above his head. Vaulting lightly over a high board fence, he crossed a wide lot, climbed a brick wall, and, satisfied that he was not observed, ran into the rear door of a tumbled-down three-story structure. His brain was in a whirl, but he realized that if he escaped at all it must be by biding in the building, not by trying to leave it at that time. This decision reached, he Advanced down the deserted hall. * Soon he saw the outlines of a door, which he opened and entered a long room, once evidently used >is a salesroom of some kind, but now vacant except for piles of rubbish. By the time the eyes of the panting fugitive had grown accustomed to the dim light he was startled by the sound of footsteps in the hall. Among a pile of barrels stood a large box, the lid of which was partly open. Inside this Cole quickly ensconced himself, closing down the cover.. He was none too quick about it, for al- - immediately the door opened and he heard some one entering. The unhappy young man gave himself up as lost, when suddenlv a light gleamed through the chinks in the rude box, and he heard some one locking the door. “Now to business!” said a voice, which the listening prisoner thought familiar. Peering through a crack, Cole Winters saw three men, two of whom he recognized, one as Max Morris and the other as Almon Sears. “Good!” said the former. “I want to know exactly how this St. Cyr matter stands before I take another step in it. It’s business that may cut off our wind, you know. ” With a wildly beating keart our hero strained his hearing that he might not miss one word of what promised to be A startling revelation. [TO BE CONTINUED.]