Democratic Sentinel, Volume 22, Number 15, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 April 1898 — PAYING THE PENALTY [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

PAYING THE PENALTY

BY HESCOTT

CHAPTER II. —(Ciutinued.) “It takes a schemer to make a fortune in any reasonable lengtlj of time now days, my boy. My intention is to have the friendship of every member of this household before we have been here a week. Yon must do the same. I will guarantee that girl, Julia, is praising me to the skies to her mammy right now, and telling her what a beauty I am to have a son of your age.” “Mother, yoh are handsome, and if the invalid should die. I have no doubt but you could wed the banker if you chose. You would not have to change your name this time.” “True, son, true; and thank you for your compliment. We cannot proceed any further to-night. Help me lift that tray hack into the trunk, and I will bid you good-night You will have to unpack some of yonr own wearing apparel before you retire, I suppose.” “Yes, and if you wish me to captivate one of our host’s daughters, I must be very particular about my attire.” “Certainly. Not only particular about your attire, but in your deportment as well. I foresee that much depends on the impressions of to-morrow. It will be one of the critical days of a lifetime.” “I agree with you there, mother; but time will shape our destinies.” “Not so! If we wait for time to shape them, we shall die paupers. Fools do that. We must shape our own destinies. When I was younger, I might have listened to such logic. Not so now. \ If we manage shrewdly we have a life of'luxury and ease before us.” \ “Mother, you appear grand are excited. You should have been ax actress.” A silvery laugh emanated from madam’s lips, and the words, “Ha, ha! I should have been, indeed. But how know you that I have not?” “You have never told me much of your early life, mother, or of how ” “I know. Well, perhaps some day. But now I think we have each a part to act. Action, must be our motto! And it must be in the right direction. Good-night, my son.” The widow imprinted a kiss upon the lips of the young man, which was twice returned before he left the room. For a moment the madam stood, gazing apparently at the closed door through which he had made his exit. Then turning, she seated herself in a rocker and thus mused:

“To-morrow morning we shall meet the son and daughters, and later I shall meet the banker’s wife. I wonder if she is confined to her room constantly—if she is a hopeless invalid. I shall soon learn. If so, so much the better. I told the boy the truth. Action must be our motto! at least mine. Earl will unhesitatingly pursue any course I may direct. He would follow me through fire, and I wotild have it so. I have trained him well. The strongest will must have ascendency. The strongest will is mine.” And the madam smiled complacently. “Humph! I have had a checkered life; I may have until the end. But my life’s ambition must # be satisfied. Wealth, wealth—l must, I will have Avealth! Twice I have thought it mine, and eachtime I had sacrificed myself for naught. This time—well, this time? I wonder really what is this banker's wealth. It would scarce make millionaires of us all. There are too many in my brother-in-law’s family. Oh, well, we shall see. “I must retire at once, sleep well, and look my best in the morning. Let me see how I have borne the journey.” And arising, the madam soon stood before a mirror. “To my eyes I look a little jaded—a trifle pale. No matter, I will have roses in my cheeks after eight or ten hours’ rest. “That banker looks like a confiding soul. I could see from his demeanor that he admired me. He may not be so easy to mould as was Andrew; but then, he was as putty. Lord! what a whiner over his calamities. Andrew died, slowly but surely died; and I am again a widow. “Wliat a life Dick Newberry led me! Rich one day, and poor the next. Race horses and whisky, whisky and race horses! I tired of that —tired of Newberry, and left him. He drank himself into the tremens and blew out his brains. ‘ “Then there is that other—how my blood boils when I think pshaw! Let me not dwell on the past to-night. “ ‘The sins of the fathers shall be visited on the heads of the children to the third and fourth generation!’ or words to that effect. That is scripture, and that reminds me that I have heard that the devil could quote scripture to serve his purpose. “Now for sleep! ‘Sleep that knits np ttye raveled sleeve of care’—and on the uhorrow, a furtherance of my plans.” Ten minutes later the madam was in the land of dreams.

CHAPTER 111. At the very hour of the arrival of Mrs. Andrew Kellogg and son at the Chicago banker’s residence, Amos Kellogg of Wilmington, North Carolina, was seated in the library of his home in that city, smoking his favorite long-stemmed pipe. Amos seemed in a thoughtful mood, and from time to time, as the smoke gracefully curled aloft, he removed the stem of his pipe from his lips, stroked his iron gray beard, bent his head as in a listening attitude and glanced toward the library door. “Surely,” he presently muttered, “the note said eight o’clock. It is that now. Let me read it again;” and crossing to a high, old-fashioned desk, he withdrew from one of the receptacles of the same an envelope, from which he abstracted and in low tones read the following: “Amos D. Kellogg, Esq.—Dear Sir: I shall call at your residence at eight o’clock to-night. Please do not fail to be in your library. I must see you on a matter of the gravest importance. If my surmises are right, a stern duty confronts you. Mr. Sellars, the detective, will accompany me. “DAVID M. STRONG, M. D.” “Yes, the note reads eight o’clock. He must see me at eight o’clock, and on a matter of the gravest importance. Lang Sellars, our great detective, to accompany him. I am completely at sea. . “Ah, there is some one at the front door now. Yes, and here comes Chloe. What now, Chloe?” “Mars Amos, Doctor Strong an’ another gemmen is call to see s you. I spec it’s Mars Sellars, de detective, case he’s powerful tall an’ he eyes look mighty sharp.” “Show the gentlemen into this room, Chloe. I was expecting them.” A moment later the doctor and his companion entered the library. “Good evening, doctor! Good evening, Mr. Sellars!” exclaimed Amos, rising to his feet and extending a hand to each of his visitors. “Pray be seated. I declare, doctor, your note aroused my curiosity. I have been trying to conjure up in my mind what grave duty can confront me in case your surmises are correct. But I will give it up. Why, you look as sober jls a deacon. Even the countenance of our great detective appears perturbed—something unusual.” “I doubt not,” said the doctor, “that what I feel it a duty to state to yon tonight will greatly surprise yon. I have a revelation to make that should have been made before. Indeed, I feel that I have been remiss in a grave duty that confronted me. I brought Sellars with we that we might have the benefit of his experience and counsel. “Well, well! Chloe 1" “le* winter," ‘ j

“Bring the deeanter from the sideboard, a piteher of water, glasses and sugftr. If I am to be startled out of my senses, I must fortify myself. Ah, here yon come. You may go now, Chloe. Close the door behind you. Now, gentlemen, join me in a toddy, and then for your revelation.” Amos proceeded to mix the toddies, the three men disposed of them; the doctor advanced to the library door, turned the key, and seats were resumed. “Oh, that was an unnecessary move, doctor,” said Amos. “There is no danger of interruption.” “We must be sure,” was the reply. “Also must we be certain that our conversation will be heard by none save ourselves.” “I declare, I begin to grow alarmed,” said Amos, “but rest assured that ypu may safely proceed.” “In the first place, then,” remarked the doctor, “is it a fact that Andrew’s widow has left Wilmington?” “Andrew’s widow!” exclaimed Amos with no little surprise. “What on earth —bnt then, you warned me that I was to be surprised. Yes, Andrew’s widow and her son ere now, I suppose, are with my brother Stephen in Chicago. I knew nothing of their intention of leaving here until the evening of the day of their departure. Andrew, you know, died insolvent. It seems that he left a letter requesting Stephen to look after the future of his wife and step-son. I was prepared to offer the young man employment; but Elinor, his widow, stated that Andrew requested that they leave the scene of his misfortunes behind. “I suppose he thought there would be better opportunities for the young man West than here. And then, Stephen is a banker, wealthy, and able to look after them. I concluded, after thinking the matter over, that they pursued the right course. Elinor, it is true, has been twice a widow; but she-is yet a comparatively young woman, handsome, and may marry again. But I fail to see ” “Wait!” said the doctor. “Did you see this letter purporting to have been written by Andrew —I mean the one to Stephen’?’ “Certainly. I read it.” “You are sure Andrew wrote it?” w “Why, certainly I am.” “Poor, deluded man!” “What? Who?” “Andrew.” “And why, pray? What in heaven’s name are you driving at, doctor?” exclaimed Amos excitedly. “This, Amos.” At this point Dr. Strong arose from his chair, advanced to the door, quickly unlocked, opened it, and glanced into the hall. “In heaven’s name,” exclaimed Amos, rising to his feet, “explain yourself!” Sellars, during this time, had remained seated near the library window, smoking a long-stemmed pipe he had taken from a collection on the mantelpiece when he had entered the room. Dr. Strong closed and relocked the door, then advancing to the side of Amos, he placed one hand on his shoulder as he leaned forward, and said: “Andrew Kellogg I believe to have been ruthlessly murdered!” “Murdered!” gasped Amos.

“Yes, murdered. And I believe that woman, his wife, Elinor Kellogg, to have slowly and remorselessly murdered him;” “Impossible!” exclaimed Amos. “You are crazy! To my knowledge she nursed him as tenderly as though he had been a child. I cannot believe a word of it—not a word! Why, you stated not a week before his death that you were treating him for gastric inflammation of the stomach. It is a late day, doctor, a late day, that you have made your discovery. You have certainly given me a surprise. Pray, when did you discover that Andrew had been murdered? How was he murdered? Speak now, speak!” “Be seated, Amos, and let us calmly talk this matter over. There is one chance in a thousand that I may be mistaken.” “Then you are mistaken,” said Amos. “Why, for three months Andrew was day by day gradually sinking into the grave. You, his attending physician during that period, pronounced his condition critical. Why have you waited until he was in the grave before coming forward with such assertions?” “I told you, Amos, that I had been remiss in a duty; and yet I know not how I could have been otherwise. The tenth of May, I was first called to your brother’s bedside. I found him suffering from gastric inflammation of the stomach, but did not consider his condition serious. I prescribed the usual remedies, and he improved rapidly. I doubted not thftt he would soon be completely restored to health and had ceased my visits, when I was suddenly called to his bedside again. I found this second attack more serious than the first, but it yielded to treatment, and again he was in a fair way to complete recovery. “Apparently without cause, I one morning found him suffering intensely and completely prostrated. His wife, as you stated, seemed all devotion and was constantly at his bedside. He rallied for a day or two, then dropped back lower than ever. The case was very peculiar.” “Well, I ” “Wait! Thus the case progressed. Each time he rallied I believed he was on the safe road to recovery; each time I was disappointed; without apparent cause he would suddenly lapse back into the old condition. Thus, as you are aware, time passed on; one day I was encouraged over his condition, the next day, discouraged; but never did I consider his case truly alarming. “On the evening of May first, in returning from a visit to a patient, I thought I would call ip and see Andrew. As I passed the gate, Earl came out of the house hat in hand. “ ‘I was just going for you, doctor,’ he said; ‘Mr. Kellogg has another relapse.’ “I hastened to his bedside and fonnd him in -convulsions, his wife seated beside him, wringing her hands. Andrew was, of course, unconscious, and in five minutes he was a dead man. I was appalled. His wife seemed heart-broken. “I immediately notified you of hiß death. That night I paced the floor of my office until dawn, and when I left the house had determined that Andrew Kellogg had been murdered —that he had met death at the hands of a second Lucretia Borgia —had been poisoned. I realized that I had been made a dupe of—had been misled in my treatment of his case, and resolved that an inquest should be held over his remains at once. I doubted not that a post mortem would justify my conclusions. “I made all haste to the residence to view the corpse before calling on the coroner. At eight o’clock I was there. Andrew Kellogg had been but ten hours a dead man. His body had been already embalmed.”

“I am perfectly satisfied,” said Amos, “that my brother died from natural causes. As you have stated, there may have been many peculiarities about the case, but of one thing I assure you—Elinor Kellogg was a devoted wife, and in your surmises you are doing her the grossest injustice. As for Earl—pshaw, doctor! this is all bosh. But why did you not go on and hold the post mortem?” “Of what use? The body of Andrew, I stated, had been embalmed. Embalming fluid is composed of the most deadly poisons. The cavities and blood vessels of the frame were filled with it. I was too late. Now, why such haste in embalming the body of her husband, unless to destroy proofs that he had been poisoned ?” “Oh, you are wild, doctor, wild! I myself ordered the undertaker to embalm the body not an hour after you had notified me of his death.” “At whose suggestion?” “What? Oh, well, wife and I were at the house twenty minutes after yon had notified me. We found Elinor bowed down with grief, and no wonder—she had .loit bar lecond buibaml | rtftttd that l

wished Stephen could gaze upon his features ere his body was consigned to the grave. Between her sobs Elinor asked me if it would not be well to embalm the body. The weather otherwise, you know, would have precluded preserving the remains for any length of time. I judged it would be best and ordered it done at once.” “And yet Stephen was not present at the funeral. How could he have been when the body was interred two days later?” “True; I afterwards realized the uncertainty of his being able to be present, even a week later, nud thought that by consigning the body of Andrew to the grave, I might in some slight measure mitigate the sorrow of his widow. Thus, you see, not a step was taken except by me, and all your theorizing falls to the ground. Andrew died from natural causes. I doubt not that your diagnosis of his case was quite correct, but all your skill could not save his life. Pray think no more of this matter, nor mention elsewhere your foolish suspicions. There is not one particle of evidence to establish your claims.” “Too true! And yet lam perfectly satisfied that Andrew died from poison of some kind, subtly administered. I felt it my duty to inform you. Certainly, as I told Mr. Sellars, there is no proof. Perhaps he might discover evidence. I removed from Mr. Kellogg’s room after his death, the remnants of all medicines I bad prescribed—they had not been tampered with. I had no license to open or examine trunks.” “You would have found nothing condemnatory.” “Th<r servants might have been the guilty parties.” “Humbug, doctor! There were no guilty parties.” “Then you do not feel disposed to follow the matter up, perhaps by a search of the madam’s effects even now?” “Doctor, you became needlessly alarmed. The only poison administered my brother was after his death. But if he had been poisoned, how could you establish the fact? Ask Sellars.” (To be continued.)