Democratic Sentinel, Volume 22, Number 22, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 June 1898 — PAYING THE PENALTY [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

PAYING THE PENALTY

CHAPTER XlV.—(Continued.) “But how on earth ” “Yon must to-night write Stephen. State in your letter that a change of dimate might be the means of restoring Janette to health, and urge him, if she is able to bear the journey, to send her to you at once. I will speedily follow your missive to Chicago, bearing with me a letter of introduction from you; for I never met your brother. If I find your niece alive and not beyond the hope of recovery, she shall be saved. I will have her beneath your roof in a week’s time. If she is unable to bear the journey, I will take other steps. Leave that to my judgment.”

“Doctor, you are firm in your convictions. I will write Stephen at once; but why not state in the letter that Dr. Strong, my family physician, will visit Chicago and take charge of Janette on her Southern trip? Better yet, why not include all in your letter of introduction?” “By no means must you state that Dr. Strong will visit Chicago with any such intent, nor that he will visit Chicago at all—else of a surety I might not find Janette alive.” “Then the other course?” “My plan is best. I prefer that your brother receive your letter. He will submit it to the widow. She will protest that the journey would certainly prove fatal to Janette.” “Perhaps this Dr. Hewit win be of the same opinion.” “Leave the doctor to me. Of course the matter will be mentioned to your niece. It may be decided that she will visit you as soon as she is able to travel. She will never be able if the widow remains her nurse. No, sir, she will only leave your brother’s home a corpse.” “I submit to your will, doctor, in all matters pertaining to this affair.” “I have it. I will bring both girls. Laura, you say, is the elder. That plan will be far the better.” ? “Why, certainly, that plan would probably be necessary in order to accomplish our object. We shall be glad to have them here. They will not get away soon.” “Now there is another matter,” said the doctor, “about the past of Elinor Kellogg.” “We know nothing save that she was the Widow Newberry of Charleston, South Carolina, before my brother married her.” “Yes, I am aware of that. Andrew married her in Charleston.” “He did.” “She became the wife of Richard Newberry in Norfolk on the. twenty-seventh day of February, 1833.” “Impossible! Why, she was a girl in short dresses then.”

“No; she was eighteen years of age. She is over forty now.” “How did you ascertain all of these facts, doctor?” “You know how culpable I felt after Andrew’s death. I determined to learn more of Elinor Kellogg. I placed the matter in the hands of Mr. Sellars. He traced Newberry and wife. Will you make a statement of vour experience, Mr. Sellars?” “Oh, I simply visited Charleston and took a back trail, as it were. I traced the Newberry man and wife to Augusta, next to Savannah, thence to New Orleans, then to Memphis, Nashville, Baltimore and New York in the order named. From New York Newberry and wife sailed for Europe. It was difficult to find the trail after their return; but I found it at last, and it eventually led me to Norfolk. Newberry was a sporting man and follower of horse racing, or it would have been a more difficult matter.” “I judge so,” remarked Amos. “I found several in Norfolk who had a remembrance of Newberry. I visited the court house and inspected the regis ter of marriage licenses granted. I found one printed on the twenty-seventh of Feb ruary, 1833, authorizing the marriage of Richard Newberry and Elinor Clifford.” “So that was her maiden name—Clifford. She was always reticent as to her past, I think. At least I was unaware until now as to what name she bore prior to becoming the wife of Newberry.” “The registrar searched for and found the license granted,” continued the detective. “The document had been filed by ♦he justice of the peace who had performed the ceremony on the date that the license was granted. His signature had been affixed to the same. It stood there in bold letters, though somewhat faded—‘John R. Little, J. P.’ The names of two witnesses to the ceremony appeared, ‘Alonzo Rush’ and ‘O. L. Holmes.’ The magistrate, Little, had been dead some years. Rush had disappeared. Holmes I succeeded in finding. He remembered distinctly all the circumstances. Stated that the marriage took place in the justice’s private office, and that, as he was passing, he was called in to witness the ceremony. He was slightly acquainted with Newberry, but had never before beheld Elinor Clifford. He stated, however, that she was a very beautiful young woman.”

“I can well believe that,” said Amos. “It was not a difficult task to trace Newberry back to the date of his birth; but it was an entirely different matter with regard to Elinor Clifford. I was unable to trace her history one hour into the past from the time when, with Newberry, she stood before the justice.” “Strange, very strange!” exclaimed Amos, who was again mixing the toddies. “That name—Clifford—l should suppose that would have aided you.” “Well, it did lead me to discover more Cliffords than I dreamed existed. Yes, two Elinor Cliffords; but neither was the Elinor whom I was tracing.” “So you gave it up?” said Amos, as he sipped his toddy. “I returned and reported to the doctor the progress that I had made. I had no desire to give the matter up, but one thing was now absolutely necessary to insure further success—l must have a photograph of Elinor Kellogg. I was unable to obtain one.” “You remember, Amos,” remarked Dr. Strong, “my calling one evening and inquiring if any member of your family had a photograph of Andrew’s widow?” “Yes, doctor, I do. I have no recollection of ever having seen a photograph of Elinor—not even in the home of Andrew. It seems strange, too, particularly as she is a very handsome woman.” “That is it,” said the doctor. “One would naturally suppose she would have had a dozen in her album, and in as many different poses; certainly that your family would have several.” “Net one,” Amos said thoughtfully. “Well, I had already expended something like twelve hundred dollars on the case, and as everything seemed to be moving smoothly in Stephen’s family, I concluded that we would suspend further operations for a while.” “Twelve hundred dollars! But why, doctor, did you not call on me for funds? You should not have expended a dollar in the matter.” “Feeling as you did then,” was the physician’s answer, “you would not have cared to take any part in the matter. I felt it a duty. I believed murder would follow the advent of that woman into your brother’s family.” “And'now?” ■ “I propose to take Sellars with me to Chicago. He may be able to take up the broken threads of over two years ago and ascertain more of the past life of Elinor Kellogg, if he accomplishes nothing else.

It may be necessary, furthermore, to have him within reach.” * » “Can yon go, Mr. Sellars?” asked Amos. “Oh, yea, I will go. And while there, I may be able to work for that reward offered by the express company.” “I hope you will win it,” said Mr. Kellogg. “We will leave you now,” the doctor said, rising from his chair. “Be sure and write and ma 2 that letter to-night. Mr. Sellars and myself will take the 11 a. m. train to-morrOw. We shall arrive in Chicago but a few hours after Stephen has received the letter. I will call in the morning for the letter of introduction. State in it that I was called to Chicago on business and will accompany his daughters to your home. Come, Sellars. Good night, Amos.” “Doctor, I will give you a check for the expenses of this trip. Wait.” “It is unnecessary. The expense is a matter for after consideration. If I am right in my conclusions, the Chicago banker will be glad to defray all bills. If I am not, I am willing to stand the loss.” “But I insist.” “Oh, well, we will talk about that in the morning. However it turns out, 1 shall never become reconciled to Andrew Kellogg's death. Half the time I feel like a criminal.” “I shall see you before you take the train, Mr. Sellars?” “Yes, I will call during the morning. I think you have received letters from Elinor Kellogg?” “Certainly.” “I would like one of them, or some part of it. It may be of no use to me, but there have been times when a sample of handwriting has helped me greatly. Good night.” After his visitors had departed, Amos wrote the desired letter to his brother, which he sent at once to be mailed. He next wrote the letter of introduction which the physician was to take with him. Then, taking his check book from the desk, he filled out a check payable to Sellars for two hundred dollars. “It will never do for Dr. Strong to be bearing all these expenses,” he remarked. “He feels so culpable over the death of Andrew that he would expend his last dollar to unmask Elinor if she is guilty.” A few minutes later, when Mr. Kellogg joined the other members of his family, he informed them that he had written his brother inviting his nieces to visit them as soon as possible, and that, if Janette was equal to the journey, they might look for them in the near future. “Oh, papa,” said Agnes, the elder daughter, “I am so glad! If Janette can only come, we will take the best of care of her.” Amos bent and kissed the glowing cheek of his daughter, remarking: “If she is here within ten days, my child, I fear you will never see her.” "What is her ailment, husband?” asked his -wife. “Gastric inflammation of the stomach, her physician pronounces it.” “Why, the same malady that killed poor Andrew!” “The same, the very same!” said Amos, as he shaded his eyes with the evening paper.

CHAPTER XV. On the morning of the seventeenth of July, while Stephen Kellogg and family, aside from Janette and Laura, were seated at the breakfast table, Thomas entered the dining room with the early mail. “Ah, here is a letter from Amos,” said the banker. “I will first read that. I know my brother sympathizes with me over Janette’s illness. I can see that Dr. Hewit is at his wit’s end. I almost fear that we shall lose Janette.” “Oh, my dear Stephen, it cannot be!” moaned the widow. “Janette is so young that she will surely rally.” “Ah, Elinor, you doubtless had hope in Andrew’s case until the very last, and yet he died. Why, Amos urges me to send both of my daughters to him at once. He states that a change of climate and the ocean air might be the means of fully restoring Janette to health.” “He does not realize how low the poor child is,” said the widow. “In her condition it would be impossible. Your daughter would not survive the journey. Here there is a prospect for her recovery. Remember that with a like ailment, Andrew died in Wilmington.” “True! For a malady of this kind, I doubt if a change of climate would avail. And in any case, I fear my brother’s invitation comes too late.” “Laura might visit her Southern cousins.” . “What, and leave the entire burden of nursing Janette to you, dear? I could never consent to that. But Laura could not be prevailed upon to leave the city while Janette is so low.” “Caring for her is no burden to me, Stephen.’’ “Oh, I am well aware that you do not consider it such. But Laura would not go South unless Janette accompanied her. That being so, the matter is ended.” “I think, father,” observed Robert, “that it would be well to submit the matter to Dr. Hewit. He may decide that Janette is equal to the journey. You know she could be made as comfortable in a sleeping car as she now is in hep room. There would be but two transfers, one at Baltimore for the Chesapeake steamer, the other at Portsmouth.” “Oh, I will speak to the doctor in regard to the matter, but I feel certain he would deem it unwise.” “If he is at his wit’s end, as you state, with regard to her case, he may think any change would be well. I am ready to accompany my sisters South. Something should be done to save Janette’s life.” “God grant that something may be done, my son; but I much fear that you will never accompany Janette South. Why, here is a letter for Laura. It bears the Wilmington postmark. I presume it is from one of Amos’ daughters.” “Agnes, probably,” observed the widow. A few minutes later Mr. Kellogg entered the room of the invalid, where he found Janette in tears, and his elder daughter with moist eyes, striving to rekindle the spark of hope in her bosom. The banker strove to put on a cheerful appearance and aid in the task; but it was with poor success. He motioned Laura into the hall as he left the room, and gave her her uncle’s letter with the remark: “Perhaps, Laura dear, you had best not make Janette acquainted with its contents. I fear it is too late; it would but pain her.” Tears were tracing their way down the banker’s cheeks as he descended the stairs. The widow tenderly removed them with her handkerchief, as she kissed him good-by at the outer door. “Too late! My brother’s letter comes too late,” moaned the despairing father as he entered his carriage. Earl had taken his departure while Mr. Kellogg was on the floor above; but Robert remained, and soon after his father left the house he ascended the stairs. He found Laura yet in the hall, reading her cousin’s letter. “Oh, Robert,” she sobbed, “if but. two months ago we had received this letter! If but two months since we had left Chicago, this might not have been. Janette might have been saved. But now ” “It may not yet be too late, Laura,” the young man said. “Did father inform you of the request of Uncle Amos?” “Yes, brother, and here is a letter from Cousin Agnes, urging me to bring Janette to them. Oh, if we could but go!” “Does Janette know of these urgent invitations?” “No, Robert; father thinks she could not bear the journey. He deemed it unwise for me to acquaint her-with the costents of the' letters.” “I favor your going, and at once. lam prepared to accompany you. Father will consult Dr, Hewit in regard to the mat-

ter, and I algo will see him. If he regards Janette’s case as hopeless here, I do not see how her removal conld be nn“It would be terrible should she not survive the journey,” “We would be with her, sister, and'all attention that can be bestowed upon her here we could bestow on her during the journey.” “Why, brother, could not Dr. Hewit accompany us?" “He could; but she does not seem to* thrive under the doctor’s care. I wish to see a complete change in regard to our sister’s treatment." “Papa thinks that no physician equals Dr. Hewit.” “I know. I also have all faith in our good friend; but am not satisfied with his treatment of Janette’s case. I must go now. Say nothing to sister until I return.’*' “I shall not. I wonder what aunt will say about the matter.” _ T “That the journey would prove fatal to Janette. She has already said so. She feels that it is too late. But that does not alter my determination.” An hour later when Robert entered his father’s office, he found him in consultation With Dr. Hewit. The physician’s face wore a very grave expression. “I do not think,” he said as the young man approached the desk at which the two men were seated, “that Janette would survive the journey. I also doubt if she would derive any benefit from the transfer should she do so.” “Robert,” said his father, “you hear what the doctor says—it is too late.” “But, doctor, do you see any hope for my sister it she remains here?” “I must confess,” replied the physician, “that I see very little. The case has completely baffled my skill.” “Then, doctor, there would be no risk.” At this moment the door of the office was opened and the porter ushered Dr. Strong into the apartment.

(To be continued.)